A series of multi-genre romance short stories, one shots, and drabbles, collected here for easier reading. Rated T for snarkiness and such. Context with the first story, at the least, is to be expected, seeing that this is marked as sequel. Stories are related, but have no strict chronological order. While marked as complete, expect updates whenever I feel like it. Chapters marked with ‘Q’ have queer themes. Some stories were previously published in Missing Pages & Scrawled Footnotes. Contribute to the TVTropes page!
Luna briefly surveyed the interior of Sombra's pocket dimension, noting all the minor changes that had taken place since she had last seen it - when it was anchored to the interior of the Sky Scraper and-
A sudden rustling noise directed her attention elsewhere, to the tree-like äerint shelves that supported all the books Sombra had in his collection, which numbered in the hundreds. Against the 'trunks' of them, large scrolls that couldn't be anything other than the large maps that she recalled giving him a while ago leaned, waiting to be used again.
Swords - they were few and number, but Luna didn't bother to count all the blades that made up Sombra's small stash of weapons. Sombra would show them to her soon enough - he did say that he had a surprise to show her, after all and that it was impressive enough for him to finally invite her over. It wasn't that Luna didn't think shoplifting things in disguise or going to parks, libraries, and seeing the sights of Canterlot were bad dates - the times when she was able to share a few hours with Sombra were her favorite parts of the day.
But what was the surprise? She took a closer look at her lover's - the modern 'coltfriend' never felt like it described the bond they shared as well as the more familiar 'lover' did - home and noted every minor change since she had last seen the place.
Blankets were still scattered about, though now they were piled on a bare mattress instead of the gray crystal ground that stretched far off into the distance, blurring until it indistinct as she looked onward, to where no furnishings lay.
Sombra had also added a very nice desk - the insignia and scratch marks it bore told how Sombra likely obtained it by breaking into an airship that had been docked at an opportune time - which was covered with many small piles of books and papers - the latter of which also stuck out of the many drawers the piece had. Cups of pens, pencils, a protractor and a few other tools that were certainly not surprising for Sombra to have were circled by paper gliders that rode nearly transparent clouds of crimson aura, flying lazily about like little birds. Yet, they were in plain sight... so those couldn't be the surprise, nor was the swivel chair that sat unoccupied.
Finally, Luna turned her gaze to Sombra himself, who stood in the center of the rather marginal portion of the pocket dimension that his living space occupied - it was equal to the layout of three studio apartments in Canterlot, only lacking walls and a ceiling.
She looks at Sombra, and raises a single questioning eyebrow. Where was this surprise?
Sombra simply smirked and took another bite of the apple he was eating. It was a silent suggestion that she look around again, and just as Luna was about to, she caught him wink at her and smirk again, clearly anticipating something.
Unable to resist a smile, Luna winked back and stuck her tongue out, laughing when he rolled his eyes and returned to what was likely his entire lunch - that single apple.
But she saw where his eyes flicked - a little structure of äerint that looked as though it made a nice table for one, complete with an obvious hasty second addition in the form of a complimentary pile of äerint that leveled off and made the pseudo-table fit for two, presuming the meal was modest.
Luna's eyes landed on the trash can, and it was rather hard not to notice the lidless metal container stuffed with plastic salad containers and singed pizza boxes. Propped against the jagged, but thankfully safe, side of Sombra's table was a box of plastic sporks. She knew this to be the only silverware Sombra owned other than the swords - yes, the swords - which Sombra had always insisted were nature's knives.
Those weren't what interested Luna. On top of the table was a box that had yet to be opened - it wasn't even very big either.
She looked back to him. "You couldn't possibly have fit dinner in those, the packaging isn't right. Did you honestly order something?"
"I did," Sombra confirmed, flashing her a sly smile. "In fact, I even paid for it."
"With stolen money."
"Since when do I pay for goods with anything else?" There was the small, silly smirk that he gave only to her.
"Indeed," Luna said. She felt herself smile, but her gaze instantly went back to the box. "Is this surprise specifically for me? Or is it just some amusing thing you found and wanted to show me?"
"It's for us," Sombra replied between a mouthful of apple and a painfully enigmatic smirk that told her so very little other than he knew something she didn't.
She teleported to the box as soon as that smirk had burned itself into her memory.
Her horn lit up with turquoise magic that began to shape itself into a blade-like shape that cast peculiar shadows across the cardboard - but it also illuminated a label and on it, she read the word 'plates' among everything else.
"Sombra!" Luna gasped excitedly. "You bought plates? Are you going to cook for me?"
"You can bet you're divinity that I will. Wouldn't have got them for anypony but you. They're real nice too."
"Nice how?" Luna asked, shooting Sombra a questioning look while her magic still blazed, hissing a bit as though it were curious about the contents of the box too.
"As in they won't break."
Luna gave Sombra a wide, cheerful smile. "Oh, that's splendid! You have finally obtained something more durable and nicer than paper plates to eat off of."
"Paper plates are easy to shoplift," Sombra grumbled.
"And they are also rather juvenile in my opinion. Sombra finally bought grown up plates!"
Whirling back around from looking at her grumpy demon lover, Luna gleefully dug her magic into the tape on the box and from the plastic she withdrew-
"Sombra, what exactly are these?"
Grasped in Luna's magic was a small plastic plate with a surprisingly colorful bee on it, that had a beady, dead-eyed stare and a smile that begged for the mercy of oblivion. It was very cute.
"The plates," he deadpanned.
"Sombra," Luna said, carefully enunciating his name as though it needed to be drawn out for scolding. "These plates are for foals."
Sombra looked at her and quietly took another bite of the apple, before burning the core to cinders that fell to the floor and were suddenly the loudest sound in the ominous silence that hung between the two gods.
"Why did you purchase these?" Each word was said quickly, tersely, and with contempt.
"Do you really have a problem with them? They're good plates." Sombra fixed her with a level glare.
"Sombra, once again, do I need to remind you that these are for children? Which is something we are not?" With the first word of disdainful emphasis, she stomped her forehoof slightly, and with the second, she thrust the offending object in his direction a bit.
"Good. Quality. Plates," Sombra spat through gritted teeth, his tone laced with a slight growl.
"They are utterly ridiculous in every way. Why would you waste money you stole on something so... underwhelming."
"They're our gods-damned plates and if you don't like them, you can just complain to Celestia about them. Maybe you and her can pass a mandate on which kind of dinner plates are allowed to which age group-"
"That is absurd!"
"So is this argument! And your sister!"
"These plates are stupid," Luna huffed, "and please leave my sister out of this particular spat. But these plates... they really re rather silly, Sombra."
"I'm a grown demon, I'll buy and steal whatever the fuck I want."
"Is it really necessary to slip into such outdated vulgarities, hmm?"
Sombra scrunched up his muzzle. "What if it is?"
"Oh? You are not going to make the 'grown demon' argument again?" Luna sneered slightly.
Sombra narrowed his eyes in response and the pocket dimension grew deathly quiet. Even Luna's magical grip on the plate wavered for a moment.
"Fight me," he whispered, just loud enough for Luna to hear over the tension building in the air that practically buzzed between them.
And it turns out that Sombra was right, the plates didn't break.
I do not take liars lightly, not even within the meditations of a moment. I know full well that I am abnormally honest, but all Bearers of the Element are, and shall be throughout their lives. Why, it might as well be in our bones, our magic!
It is a such a thing that reminds me I am in a world of liars.
No, they are hardly those who seek to wound with their words or bring about maliciousness through intended deceit, but most ponies are liars. Is it any wonder I do not meddle with them so much, at least for that alone?
I think not.
Many, many ponies feel that truth may harm them, wound them, and twist them so, and that little lies strung together might be kinder. I have heard too many a pony snap to an automatic 'I'm fine' and other dull excuses they think could ever cloak how transparent they are to me. Sometimes, I really cannot help but roll my eyes, to sigh, to ask myself again if these ponies really think that they can be believed. The foals, I wonder which of their faces I shall see in dreams.
I require no magic that I peer past these cracked facades of lies, surprised to see how quick they are accepted, digested, and believed... even the more problematic ones.
To be the Element of Honesty can mean that there are moments when you can only feel that you are the actor in some play, but only you know that the story is mere production. You think so much on all the falsehoods that clutter the places you go and what could compel others to distort their identity, their thoughts... I know much of secret, but little of the flimsy liars.
There is still no other Element I would have wished in its place, for it is strong in the ways that others are not. I still feel its imprint; I know if I could ever reconnect to my Elements again, I should always have Honesty.
Honesty is pride in oneself, and that is something I treasure being returned to me, because I can rise every day with a smile in an empty room and the feeling lingering, if not the expression, when ponies are present.
Cadance I get along well, not simply because we are true companions and she is my only friend, but because I have learned that there are few differences between Honesty and Love.
The Element does have splinters of undesirable things with it, and with being honest in general. Being an honest goddess is one of many reminders of how very alone I can be... even if that is not so wrong and unwanted a thing. Still, it means to be brave, to be out spoken, to carry integrity when perhaps nopony else will, at least for me. I cannot say that Applejack is the same Bearer as I, because we are so very, very different. She is a mortal pony, and I am neither, and so much more. All Bearers tend to have such differences, because ponies can be so varied.
But lies often feel the same.
Sighing, I run a hoof through the dark locks of my mane, watching it comb through sparkles and long navy hairs. Purple highlights spiral around my bare hoof and my magic reaches through the sky, touching the clouds and beyond.
The weather, I think, is quite an honest thing. Evening light pours over the world as my sister's sun sinks below the horizon. Of course, she would maintain her schedule, her dear order so. I do not have to look down at Canterlot below to know that if I could see the right castle balcony from this far up on Canterhorn mountain, she would be there.
Celestia is like ponies. She tells me many things, and many lies, thus, she is far from honest than most. Often, it is she who wraps 'I'm fine' and it's many other equivalents in with the unneeded pleasantries that weigh down her conversations, or other words her tight smiles are willing to give up. She relishes in things I find little more to be hollow consolations, and I don't know if sometimes she doesn't say things about her day and her thoughts simply because she is busy, or because there are things she won't admit bothered her, content to bite her tongue and be polite.
...Even if that means there is the feeling of gaping holes in our conversations, and our sisterhood if I dwell on why she can't admit she disliked my idea, or a delegate, or anything when that calm of hers slips. I may be aloof, but it is an honest aloofness.
As though to remind me of somepony else wit greater aloofness than I, a forehoof wraps itself around my withers and pulls me closer. Sombra's grip is never harsh, but from the pressure this time, I know he is trying to offer comfort, for he listens to my silence as much as I do his.
I can't say I smiled, not this time, but I feel a bit lighter and we carefully lean into one another a bit more.
The last lights of day, oranges, scarlet, and golds are swallowed up by the sky. Rich shadows begin to creep forth, spilling tinges of delightful midnight and edging darkness that has always made my heart leap at the sight of this time, when the ghosts of stars become visible in the sky. No matter how different that feeling of pure wonder is from the happiness my dear Sombra can bring me, I couldn't chose between the two if I tried! One is ancient, one is newer, and none feel old at all.
Beneath us, the mountain grass already feels cool because of the night air, and stars are clearer in the sky. But it is by their light, and that of the emerging moon I raise with the utmost care that I turn my head, resting a cheek on his wither as I shift, so that I can see how our tails have brushed against the other's, loosely intertwining.
A sound like a small hum of acknowledgement escapes me, the sound becoming a mumble into Sombra's coat. My horn is still lit; the moon continues to rise, and I watch our shadows grow long across the mountain.
There is a small nibble on my ear, and then another. I have to bury my face as far into his coat as possible, letting the familiar feeling try to offer some comfort. I'm not mad at him, he knows. He always knows, but that never stops him from trying to help in ways only he can, even if it means listening to me say nothing...
I'm only relieved to have such an honest pony in my life.
If this had been a happier visit, who knows what we would be doing. He could try to take my out to dinner, letting me have whatever I wanted while he just sipped foul black coffee. Or maybe he would have made something for the both of us, and we could stargaze as we ate. Maybe he wanted to show off a new dress, and would've let me braid his mane, and things might have spiraled into soothing mutual grooming. He might have new books, new stories, new trinkets and so much to show me. We might've dueled with spell and blade, and for every sly battle taunt he'd have to know the wrath of my divine raspberries... because all those things and more were the usual activities when we were both happy.
Instead, I'm raising the moon while the two of us sit without a word. I know he rests his head on top of mine and a rumbly purr loud and clear. My eyes are shut and my throat feels tight, but I'm safe. Today, that should b enough for an over-emotional mare like I, and I could be content to listen to fireflies.
But tonight I am not.
I sense the moon is at its proper place and dim my aura.
I love honest ponies, but I do know so few of them. I'm not sure if the worst things about this matter is the truth that... my sister still lies to me, even over nothing and... our squabbles can be stupid... or that they still can hurt, and that sometimes, being an honest pony means its hardest to be honest to yourself.
The Tantabus, now long-gone, comes to mind, if just for a moment.
My throat feels that familiar, swollen sensation. Now, more than ever, I've found it far easier to admit to those I care about that I can be such a crybaby.
Finally reciprocating Sombra's embrace properly, I know that somepony is always here, tears or smiles, honesty or lies.
Luna tells me that when we duel, we dance. Together, we can move with strength and agility, and our flurries of magic and strikes of any weapon are precise. The adrenaline of these interactions and the power in our movements is addicting. The both of us are powerful, she is entrancing, and I'm nothing short of captivating. In her eyes, I see how awestruck she is by me in those times, and I catch my reflection in her eyes, and it offers me a confirmation of how mutual that look is between us.
Dancing has to be like that, how Luna makes it seem: dynamic... and remotely enjoyable.
I wince when I accidentally step on one of her hooves again; and grit my teeth before I can stop myself.
But her half-smile never leaves her muzzle, and her laughter fills the air. Of all the things she wanted to do today, dragging me off to sneak around the groves that populate the edge of Canterlot's city limits, where waterfalls pour down the southern side of mountain and spill into parks, vast private estates I hardly bother with, secret places, and best of all: isolated spaces where her and I were not likely to be disturbed.
With the sound of that laughter carried away with the same breeze that swept through the grass, leaves, and my mane, it was difficult to hold back the slightest curve of a smirk.
One look of adoration from her, and a touch of her forehoof - the one she moved upward, winding it into my mane - and I was pulled close for a quick kiss.
When I pulled away, my smile was wide and crooked, and I certainly felt better. Stepping on her hooves and managing to stumble with some amount of dignity for so long was not something I thought she would be looking forward to. The nuzzle I accepted from her said otherwise. "There's no need to look so sullen-"
I stop her mid-sentance with a single eyebrow arched knowingly.
Now that we've stopped, Luna's focus is primarily on me. Her eyes watch mine, and her ears prick forward quickly in a clear sign of recognition. "There's no need to look more sullen than usual, Som. I have seen much worse."
"And how bad could that be?"
Smiling, she rubs one of my withers and I catch an intriguing, coy twinkle in her eyes. "Let me say that you have been blessed to never see Twilight Sparkle dance. I know formal dancing does not suit you, but with Cadance and I, you fare fine without restriction."
I chuckle slightly, levitating a few strands of mane from my bangs back into place. "I guess that's encouraging enough, even if these waltzes are monotonous I might just need practice. Do you really think I'm still okay on my own?"
"Without a skirt to trip over, you are doing wonderfully for a beginner!"
While her words were earnest in their encouragement, I still couldn't help but give her a proper flat stare. Every bit of her was radiating impishness, and her eyes were shining with a familiar look of mischief I can't be anything but fond of.
"Maybe," I begin, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, "next time I will wear a dress. The leading role is usually carried out by a stallion, isn't it?"
Luna gasps a little at the sly edge in my tone, as eager for our shared tastes in playfulness as I can be. "It is," she whispers back.
"I think it would be fitting for me to bring one of my dresses next time, so I can look the part."
When I start to nibble gently on her ear, she begins to giggle softly and leans forward. Two dark forelegs pull me into a crushing hug and together, we're pulled to the ground in an abrupt pile of legs and wings.
"Murp!"
With the both of us spilled out on the mountain meadow, and still half-tangled in the other's embrace, we would be a sight to see. But we aren't, and this isolation is invigorating.
Luna is laughing at vocalizations I make that she cannot, but she claims they're adorable. I can't whinny or nicker like she can, but she has loved my trills and purrs immensely. Even some of my softer growls gain affection from her.
I just smile slightly, stuck between looking at the cascade of her mane across grass, glimpses of her eyes and smile, and the vast blue sky far above the two of us. Can I really be blamed for being happier around her, and because of what we bring one another? Because of us?
Even when we trip over one another, our time together is always worth it.
No matter how many times I stumble on her hooves, and she steps on mine and I glare and growl and sulk, this will do.
Moonlight shone brightly upon my city of Canterlot tonight. I sighed quietly and took in the crisp night air. It was becoming so easy to call this city mine, for even though the ponies always had more unrealatble qualities than normal, this city was made for me. Magefolk bustled through the streets and magical knowledge was plentiful.
I reclined on the cool grass of one of the numerous quiet spots in Canterlot, free from the stately buildings that made up nearly all of Canterlot. Towards the edge of my night's vision, I caught the expected sight of benches and more maintained grass that bore the obvious signs of being trod upon, and clear evidence of casual grazing.
But all was quiet in this part of the city. Lamps holding merry werelights illuminated things more clearly, letting greater, more peculiar shadows dart about.
What could be better for a pleasant, tranquil date than moonlight respite with nopony but Sombra and I? It was a lovely get-away from any day's royal routines, and a fine way to spend time when I had no dreams calling to me, and nights did not require my management.
Lying with his head resting against my side, and cuddling close to me, was Sombra. He basked in the midnight-hour moonlight, clearly content. As my barrel rose and feel, I could feel how relaxed he was, as though the soft, low purr he was making.
Smiling, I carefully moved one forehoof so I could reach back and pet his mane without disturbing him. I had to adjust myself slowly, and move my hoof towards him in such a manner as well, to try and refrain from startling him.
What I get instead is my hoof getting headbutted lightly and nuzzled as I stroke two fuzzy ears. A smile quickly spread across my face, and I giggle. Joy and warm feelings are absolutely infectious when it comes to Sombra, and I still am in awe at these feelings, from time to time. They're something I haven't had for anypony else, and I appreciate them more deeply the longer he and I are together.
"I was beginning to think that you had fallen asleep, Som."
He still had problems when it came resting at healthier hours, or even consistent ones, even when his nightmares and night terrors did not trouble him. There were still times when he would be quick to fall asleep if he was brought somewhere quiet, dark, and he felt safe with me. The last one was something he had repeatedly confided in me, so there were times when I had to worry.
He mumbled something that I didn't quite catch and nuzzled deeper into my side, prompting me to unfurl my wings and hold them over him. On one side, each feather grazed him gently and he stirred again.
Repositioning myself so I could nuzzle him, I soon was able to lean close enough to see that Sombra did indeed look sleepy, and there was a tiredness to him. One forehoof was brought over his eyes, much like an improvised sleeping mask, and I would say he was near being half asleep as he lay at my side and under the gentle shadow of my wing stretched above him.
At least, until he made a properly grouchy grumble and his ears perked up. I could sympathize with not being in the mood to talk. Thankfully, we didn't have to. I did not have to go through nearly a dozen guesses with him to know what he was feeling, like I had to with Celestia when she was all mumbles and undignified attempts to shove her mane and head under her many pillows when I tried to convince her to get up and remind her to raise the sun.
Nudging my wing aside, Sombra lifted his head, still rubbing his forehoof across his muzzle tiredly. I caught sight of the crimson of his eyes as his eyes met mine.
"Will we be parting soon?" I asked him quietly, not that I really wanted to hear certain answers. We had been enjoying walking, banter, and quiet time together, but if he was exhausted, it would be best for us to focus on that instead. With his always-irregular sleeping pattern, I would have to accompany him back to his pocket realm, and...
A bit fatigued or not, no matter if Sombra looked worn from his day, his eyes could still read mine clearly, and he knew the thoughts that crossed my mind. "...Would you like to stay the night with me?"
"Of course, I would." I rolled onto my back, and then over again before standing tall and agile. Without my crown, necklace, and shoes, such movement came even more easily. "Spending the night with you would be wonderful-"
I was just about to refold my wings at my sides when I felt something uncomfortable, a bristle, a poke, and something not right... and I cringed.
Sombra ceased even the faintest purr and his eyes looked toward my wings. Usually, we would walk together, up the mountain, to his realm. Other times, I would fly close and we would make the trip, enjoying time well-spent in the other's company. Teleportation was best reserved for when I didn't want to deal with anypony else, such as around the castle, for the nagging and mindless prattle of the staff could be all too bothersome at times.
Though I may rule each and every one of them, and it was in my every power to command such ponies if I simply desired to, there were many who I was not proud to have in those halls. Idle hooves and gossips were not rare there, but my sister enjoyed them, and how I do not know. Others were nearly obscenely cheerful, and exhausted my energy and dampened my spirits.
What I did know was that I did not like how my feathers rested, or rather, how they didn't. While most weren't broken at the tips and caught among the others, there were feathers that were out of place, dislodged... oh, it really did not look so good.
I had been in such a hurry to see him... but, really, why did I roll over like that? Oh this, is no good...
"Luna?"
My gaze flicked up toward him shyly, through my eyelashes. My head had been bowed slightly to allow me to examine my wings better, but I had not raised it to look at him properly out of instinctual embarrassment. "Y-Yes, Sombra?"
He nodded towards my wings, which would be harder to see for him, since he lacked my night vision. He saw and heard better in the dark than most, and he knew me, and my voice. I couldn't even hope a silly idea like hiding this now - or at all - would actually work.
"What's wrong with your wings?"
"I..." I swallowed a bit. "I forgot to preen them... and when I rolled over... they're a bit of a mess, Sombra."
"Preen?" he echoed back to me, voice more than a bit tired. He wasn't in the mood for wit, so there was a familiar brusqueness to it, but nothing that was uncaring. He wanted to learn, to seek answers, and to get things done.
And I can't believe that I had never preened around him. Oh, it probably ought to have struck me sooner, but I simply cannot believe that I hadn't. We share so much with one another, and I love him so dearly. We keep no secrets, and it is him I can be totally honest with... and he with me. Our relationship was founded on love, and on honesty, and all the happiness we bring one another... and so much more. So, to think that I have never, ever... oh, it's a bit silly now.
"Preening is taking care of one's wings and feathers properly, and as much a form of personal grooming as picking one's hooves, currycombing, and teeth-brushing."
To think that Sombra had never seen a winged equine, or even a griffon preen is curious. It certainly is not something anypony would do in public, but I always just... assumed, I suppose, that maybe he had seen Cadance do so nervously at some point. Or that he had seen me do so. That still nagged at me, just a bit.
"...Though," I stressed, fluttery nervousness feelings return and warmth crossing my cheeks, "preening can be a romantic gesture as much as a platonic, familial one and..."
I heard myself squeak faintly. It certainly could be romantic and...
I'm truly terrible when it comes to anything past that. I know I am, or, at least I think I am. Sombra doesn't agree, and he discourages such thought. We learn about love together, and through one another, even if there are still times when one of us will stumble. I help him up, and he does with me.
Sombra tilts his head to the side, ears flicking. "Teleportation is always-"
"No," I say quietly, "it's alright... I wanted to..." I look at my forehooves, letting my forelock fall into my face and my words die in the night air.
His ears flicked again, and I saw his tail swish. "Do you need anything for this? A brush of some sort, privacy, anything?"
Privacy for something he didn't understand was a terribly kind offer, and one that would be expected of anypony who did, and was still gracious. Not only was it kind, but a kindness that was one I could respect wholeheartedly.
"Sombra, preening is grooming feathers, rearranging them, and removing broken ones from wings using one's teeth. I don't really need anything for it, and at this hour, there's no worry about privac-"
Sombra directed one of his forehooves at himself, a gesture that gave a clear indication of what he meant.
"Oh!" I gasped. "You don't have to go anywhere... I wanted to show you how."
I got no remark about how he didn't have wings, but the usual fire was in his eyes, and for a moment they looked quite focused instead of drowsy. "There is a ritual of sort to this, then?"
Something like courtship.
"Yes! Yes, yes!" I chime with a touch of soft, nervous laughter. "Preening is a romantic gesture. One of the things I have learned from Cady is that couples like her and Shining - one winged, the other not - use it as... a milestone, and a sign of trust and love."
I finally looked up at Sombra. Trust was cemented between us some time ago, and not a worry; I did not expect or get any remark about how I could allegedly be 'not trusting' him by 'suggesting' this.
Instead, it was clear to me that Sombra was flushing a bit in the dark, looking just a bit surprised. There were few occasions when I could still get such a reaction from him, and they were glorious. He was deeply sentimental, and I knew just how to help it show! How could I not adore that? No matter how deeply I love this stallion, it will always be him that is the romantic between us.
I smiled nervously, but earnestly. Sombra's ears perked forward at the awkward, but well-meant gesture and he trotted forward. He leaned in for a quick, caring nuzzle first. I was glad to have some reassurance and nickered softly, gently returning his affection before we parted.
I do not recall who did so first.
He looked to one of my wings, still loosely outstretched. "Do you want me to try...?"
I hummed quietly. "Perhaps... Here, watch me first."
Plopping backwards onto the grass with intentional gracelessness, I lit my horn with a gentle glow and bid Sombra to sit down at my side, and he did, but with much more care than I.
With him sitting to my right, I extended my right wing and lifted it up. It hid my face, and I was glad to have that minor privacy for now. I had lit my horn for Sombra's sake, and though there was a division of feathers between us, he would still have an idea of what was happening.
The full condition of my feathers was revealed to me, and I quickly took up a broken primary in my mouth and delicately pried it out, dropping it to the ground when I was done. I took extra care to go slowly, and exaggerate the delicate motions that were needed to do this. He may learn easily, but having a good teacher helped.
I wanted to make sure he observed properly as I pulled away all the weakened and broken, taking care to manage whatever would be the most sensitive first. He would be doing this for his first time, and I did not wish to make it more difficult for either of us. With his sharper teeth, I couldn't imagine him having an easy time with so many obstacles.
When all of those were taken care of, I felt more relaxed. Celestia always taught me to take good care of my wings, for her and I had more magnificent examples than most. My feathers were strong and sure, perfect for fast flight and powerful. If my pegasus subjects had wings like little songbirds, I was a falcon. My sister had to preen more than most, for her wings are great and downy. She preens when stressed as I comb touch my mane when the same feelings and nerves can trouble me, but the gesture is still relaxing, though I would prefer other forms of mutual grooming instead.
I look towards Sombra, who watches curiously, tail swishing across the grass. "Do you understand?"
He nodded, not once looking away from my wing. That worn look now had his sharp curiosity to duel with, for I saw both in his eyes.
"Do you understand well enough that you feel you would be able to try?"
"I think so." Ah, he still sounded quite tired. Sombra nodded to my wing with a short, pragmatic gesture. "May I?"
I extended my wing to its full length, allowing him to see the feathers that required straightening, and the primary and secondary feathers to be tended.
At ease, I closed my eyes and exhaled in a long, deep breath. This was going to be quite lovely!
Getting to share this with Sombra was important. Already, I leaned closer to him because I could feel his magic caressing my feathers and could not hold back a soft sigh. Sombra may be divine now, and could attempt to greatly wean himself off sleep if he wished, and I am sorely tempted to encourage it and take advantage of his irregular sleeping pattern, no matter how it complicates things, if it means we can bond over intimate gestures like this.
At least, I thought so until he actually began to try and preen me. The faint rumbles of a gentle purr had died quickly, and the stallion had nearly lunged into my feathers and clamped down on a few.
I made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a yelp, but found most of it stifled by Sombra's forehoof against my mouth.
"Purr-murr?" He blinked at me, worried and confused with one ear flopped downward in confusion and the other swiveled to the side. His bangs fell with the tilt of his head, mostly covering one eye.
His concerned sounds were mostly muffled by the bunch of blue feathers that were sticking out of his mouth.
My feathers.
I shoot him quite the icy stare, and a pouty scowl with it. "That. Hurt."
As soon as I had spoken those words, worry overcame any confusion and tiredness in his expression, and my roguish stallion spat out my feathers, eyes wide with worry and leaned forward to nuzzle my cheek.
"Luna, I'm sorry. I should have been far more careful-"
Pouting in full, I shaped my aura differently and scooped him into a hug. "Shh, I forgive you. What do you say we teleport tonight? You do need your beauty sleep. When the moon is lowered tomorrow morning, I think we can work on those preening lessons."
He opened his mouth wide, letting it gape at me in a large yawn that exposed his fangs. Then, I received another nuzzle, one that was clearly a proper nuzzle of agreement.
There was a smile upon my muzzle again, and I gave Sombra a kiss on his cheek. Preening was the last thing he needed to be stressing over.
"It seems even the God of Knowledge must put time into learning little things."
No matter his fatigue, Sombra chuckled warmly as he only does with me. "I wouldn't be much of a God of Knowledge if I didn't."
I did the noble thing, and replied with an eloquent raspberry that got quite the flat stare from him.
"Luna?"
"Yes~?" I couldn't help but grin at this mischief.
"Your feathers taste terrible."
And for that, I couldn't help but light my horn and assault his ears with flicks of my aura.
"The answer to that is rather obvious. You know full well that trust can be foolish."
"That is true..."
"...And so do I..."
"But you trust me."
"...I do. Of course I do."
"And I trust you."
"Oh, absolutely."
"Ooh, Sombra, I'm trying to be as sappy as you are! Stop with that face!"
"What face~?"
"THAT FACE!"
"You're going to have to tell me about my face."
"I am aiming for sinceretiy, and you are so terribly smug right now."
"I am."
"Som!"
"Yes, Luna?"
"You are only doing this because I called you a sap, are you not?"
"Is that really a question that you need to ask?"
"Hush. It is not. I do mean that I trust you... and..."
"I love you too."
"...me too. But..."
"Yes?"
"I trust you with anything. With my life. Anything, Som."
"I trust you too."
"...Is it wrong then, that sometimes I still get nervous about telling you things? Such a thing must seem so silly but..."
"No, Luna, not at all."
"I don't keep secrets from you."
"I know. I didn't think you did."
"Do you... Do you sometimes... wish you didn't have to say things? Not lying, Sombra, just not telling anypony."
"Luna...? Is something wrong?"
"I... I am not sure. Telling my sister that sometimes I... sometimes I still have the thoughts that I need to be punished o-or that... They are nearly gone now, really. Really. Shh, you don't need to look at me like that. I feel confident because of you. I tell you everything... telling Tia things is hard. I do. I've been trying, and sometimes it has been working. She's so worried sometimes, but she doesn't really understand and... I think she's always worried about me. I don't want her to always be worried so..."
...
"Is it like that for you...? When I just feel all my thoughts think like that? A-And I try to berate myself over such little things? Are you always worried about me?"
"Sometimes, Luna. Not always. You can always tell me anything."
"I know... thank you, for reminding me. And caring."
"...I do mean anything, Luna."
"Yes, and thank you... you can always tell me anything too."
"I know."
"Even if it scares you. Perhaps especially then."
...
"Anything about the past. Anything about your thoughts. I always wish to hear them."
"...I know."
"Shh, it's only a reminder. Unless...? Do you want to talk about something to day?"
"No, Luna."
...
...
"Thank you for listening."
"It's never a problem, Luna, and neither are you."
"...Oh?"
"There's a look in your eyes that says that sometimes."
"Do you ever feel that ponies are uncomplicated?" Luna asked, twirling a lock of his mane in her magic. Below them, Canterlot sat basking in the evening light, unaware of the chatter of two gods perched farther up on Canterhorn itself.
"Most are," Sombra said with a shrug, watching Luna cradle lavender in her forehooves with great care.
"And yet," she replied, "there are many who would deny this. My sister is a mare who speaks equally of 'all good life is a gift' with sillier things still like simplistic notions being ideal, as if anything was beautiful about the slice of an overrated cake of life. Oh, and do not get me started about the 'everypony is special' mantra of hers." Luna focused her magic upon some of the lavender flowers, popping off some of the blossoms and tossing them into her mouth.
Sombra quietly looked out at the horizon, as he was prone to, marveling at his own contemplation and the sight of the mountains and their vastness. The wilds of Equestria, coexisting with towns, villages, and cities as easily as clouds did with wind was an untamed, intoxicating thing for such an drifter like himself.
At the words of his lover, he flicked an ear. "This will be a meeting of venting?" It wasn't a harsh question, nor was it uncommon for either of them to discuss their problems with one another, or to ruminate upon things. They were thinkers, and it was all thoughts that called to them, for they found like more enjoyable perched among daydreams and musings than among the mindless squabbles bound to be found the closer one was drawn to the everypony.
"Yes, I just... you see what I am talking about. That is more than I can find from anypony in the castle, and most ponies at all. There is something boring about how my sister dictates things, and thinks. I cannot help but feel if anypony did what she does long enough they would be quite unwell, and yet she is filled with such a... flat cheer and... oh, I know not what word might fit the enthusiasm she has that feels... wrong, in ways."
"Generic," Sombra supplied, listening carefully. "Would that work?"
Luna pulled her muzzle out of the lavender she had been nibbling. "Is that not more typical a way to describe a product?"
"I thought it might suit her mood."
Luna sighed, licking a few petals off her lips. "I do suppose that is true. I am tired of discussions with her, about all these irksome things that bubble up over the centuries. I know why it is why you are so quick to recognize ponies as tiresome and not bother with them if you can, for is this not what it can feel like?"
Chuckling mirthlessly, Sombra just nodded. "You know exactly what it is I think of ponies-"
"And yet," Luna said with a smile, "I do always love to hear the further depths and developments of your thoughts. A like mind is something to love."
Sombra rolled his eyes a little, brushing off the interruption with the carefree gesture. "What is it that has you calling them 'uncomplicated' today?"
"A lot of things, I suppose," Luna mumbled through a bunch of lavender petals she was chewing. "Petitioners at the castle have been... just another pony to deal with, and not much more, I suppose. At least, for the most part. It is not as bad as it was, thank goodness. After Discord's banishment, and when the nation was young, just about anypony could walk into open court. Celestia adored it, but it was a disaster. I'm surprised she got rid of it, really. Having mayors bother with trivial problems is a blissful improvement... it's just... stupid ponies never go away."
Luna smashed her face into the flowers and groaned.
Sombra chuckled at her plight, even after she used her magic fling petals at him. "Sister won't let me deal with them properly either."
After combing petals out of his mane, Sombra looked toward Luna instead. "Are you saying that after all these years, you've never had a better way to manage things?"
"Not always. I just... I know things could be better, Sombra. That is what makes things obnoxious."
Sombra nodded in silent understanding, leaning over to nuzzle her nearest wither.
"I think that it is dreaming that reveals the extent of it. Ponies are not all bad, but there is a part of me that just thinks... maybe this pony has great dreams. Maybe they are talented, and their thoughts great. Perhaps there is something about them that feels different and new, and within them are layers of anxieties, fears, thoughts, and memories. Those sorts of things, you understand. I see those things in dreams, yearning to find a true dreamer like yourself. To tell myself this always would be a foolish thing, but there are times when the speculations seem so just for this individual and that."
Sombra steals a few flower petals when she pauses, earning a small glare before Luna continues.
"Instead I find something dead at the very depth of their soul. Gone are all complexities, and I am reminded of the things you say of ponies. They aren't things ponies like to hear, oh no. However, they are so largely true that I'm sure there is somepony who realizes it... and just lies, going on about how a lump of coal is a real diamond and how everypony is dear and great, not because they work to be, but oh, that they just are. It can make dealing with certain foals, and adults that act like spoiled foals very hard. I find so much coal sometimes, and it..." Luna deflated, her withers sagged, and she frowned ears lowered. "...It hurts, when everypony wishes to drag you through the doldroms and desires you to think trash is treasure. I would like to see those in their dreams reflect their true selves, and sometimes there is just nothing to reflect but lint of the soul."
"No cobwebs? Just lint? That's an equine tragedy if I've ever heard one."
With that, Luna finally laughed earnestly. "It is! Be glad you are not called to such dreams, dear Sombra, for you shall find coal a-plenty, and if ponies are but melodies in life, then I have heard the same lackluster song far too often in my travels through the dreamscape."
"Luna?"
She blinked. "Hm? Yes, Som?"
He leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek. "No matter what, keep looking for diamonds. Coal is only useful, to power the worthless wheel and all its meaningless cogs. Diamonds are wanted. Don't they tend to be the ones buried below all the filth in the first place?"
Smiling, Luna looked at him fondly and stroked his mane. "For a long time, you were," she said softly, levitating a few petals into his mane.
I gripped the mane-brush gently in my magic and pulled it through Sombra's mane again, humming softly as I worked. He had a very nice mane, and the brush tended to glide right through. Only when he had been out in the elements did it really become tangled, but he liked to keep it in its natural disheveled state. I adored petting it, twirling it, and playing with it in all fashions. I also had the extra-exclusive privilege of braiding his mane, something nopony else could dream of.
He sat before me, and I behind him. A mirror before us both properly reflected my aura and all the light of his gray-hued pocket realm so that we could see one another much more clearly.
I was no particularly skilled mane-stylist, and most cosmetology was baffling to me. Though, I did not really find much to 'study' in such a field, as it struck me as very superficial. I was adequate, I should think, for one cannot expect to be an Alicorn and get by with improper mane and tail management. Caring for such a mane from learning various styles, using specially-made shampoos, and even learning what magics can actually have an effect on it are all things I had to learn. Because of that, I am good with braiding and some things.
Sombra cannot braid, and adores it when I brush is mane. Is it not only fitting that I would help him with braiding and styling his mane in a mare's style.
His eyes watched each stroke of the brush patiently, ears perking where I needed them to be while I gathered what I need of his mane. I did not even have to say anything; he observed all my movements carefully, and sensed the rest of what he needed to know through the movements of my magic.
He purred softly as tied back a portion of his mane I had separated with a sky-blue ribbon. With only his mane left to work with, Sombra's look would soon be complete. The robin's egg blue of his his skirt spilled out beneath me, and the silver trim looked so new and clean in the glow of my magic, with faint dapples of a lighter, wispier blue visible too.
And why would they not look so well taken care of? All Sombra's cloaks and less feminine things were patched, worn, and any combination of such things. The dresses he laid out, however, were all too good at bringing out other facets to his more his flamboyant side. He was an incredibly striking stallion, and though his dresses did not attract me the same way they attracted him, he knew how to pull them off and appear so alluring. Sundresses, cocktail dresses, gowns, flowing skirts, layered skirts, and many more things that were absolutely mind-boggling could all be worn by him so well.
He was such a great diva, and I adored it so, and how his confidence bled into everything, no matter what he wore.
A few more careful twists of his mane later, and he had a nice braid crowning his completed manestyle. His purring stopped, and I watched as his eyes widened when he finally saw everything in the mirror. I smiled warmly at the image of him, and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek.
"There," I whispered, "your look is complete."
Sombra flicked a few strands of his bangs with his telekinesis. "I'm not sure it is."
My smile faded, and a look of thoughtfulness replaced it. "What else could be done before we leave?" I thought of the opera tickets I had tucked in my saddlebags, waiting for us. While we had much time to spare, and a private, royal box reserved, I still thought it would be best to make sure to leave at a reasonable time, or even earlier. Canterlot always had plenty to see every evening, and I did love helping Sombra with his photo albums, but there was still much to do!
I watched Sombra lit his horn and began to rummage through a few things quickly, his aura running across various objects, whether they were in plain sight or not, in order to touch what it was he was looking for.
I sat down, waiting and thinking of what we might do in the city. I wanted to refrain from encountering too many ponies on the way, so not to dampen the fun of travelling through Canterlot. Sombra's magic could be used to help with that, and he would not be wearing his dresses or anything. He only did that when we were both in disguise, or alone together.
Thankfully, unbraiding his mane would be easier than braiding it was.
Excitement burned softly in his eyes, and Sombra presented me what his magic had found: his camera, a secondhoof thing that appeared as most cameras did. It was bulky, with a large round lens, and a harness-like strap that could be put around one's neck. I accepted it when he past it to me, taking a familiar, experimental peek behind the viewfinder, and slipping the strap around my neck before looking at what else he had clutched within his magic.
What he held was a simple make-up container. Through the plastic lid I could see various eyeshadows and a place to keep lipstick.
I cocked my head to the side, feeling the strap of his camera brush against my usual necklace. "You want this to complete your look?"
"I would like you to put on a little of this." He tapped a soft blue-gray eyeshadow through the case.
"Sombra, you manage eye shadow even better than I do, why would you like me to do this?"
He sighed with faux annoyance, reached out with his magic again and produced one of his photo albums, and swiftly threw it at me, knowing I would catch it with ease. And I did!
"I want you to do it because I love you." He winks at me playfully, knowing it'll make me smile.
And it does. I sit down, close to him, and give his latest photo album a quick glance. The pages' contents make it clear that these might as well be our albums. Sombra and I are visible in all the pages, and if it is not an image of us alone or us together, it is something we saw fit to photograph. I often added images of Canterlot and neighboring locations, or the many impressive airships that made their way to the city.
They were one of my favorite things to photograph by far, and now that I've sparked an interest in my hobby in Sombra, I have somepony that I can show my photographs to, and one who will appreciate them as well! All my art was private to me, regardless of what it was, with only the night sky as an exception, and all my charts of the stars. Though, there was something private and to be treasured about even that art of mine. I did not seek to share them, but appreciated them with a quiet love. It was something to revel in, though quietly, to learn anypony did appreciate my art even a little. To have Sombra become so closely involved in my habits and with me was something more wonderful than any hoard of followers, be they genuine or a blind herd.
He claimed to not be artistically-inclined, and this was true, but he had an appreciation for most of the things I made. My photographs, poems, songs, sketches, and even my sloppy amateur still-lifes all were finally appreciated by a stallion of fine intellect, and one who I loved dearly. I no longer had to simply store away all the pictures I had found myself taking since my return. We shared many passions, and while I was by far the more artistic, we both took to photography as something we could share. After all, Sombra came along to operas and symphonies because he knew how passionate I was about them and he could spend time with me, even if they did 'entertain him enough', as he told me before.
With his ability to pull off such a variety of clothes so confidently, and how much he photographed himself as though he were some enigmatic, one-pony modelling company, it was only a matter of time before we filled entire pages with fantastic images of him, in whatever secret corner of Canterlot would be perfect to put him, and in whatever he declared was the outfit of the day.
And we helped each other orchestrate it all.
I scanned past projects for ideas of what I might wish to do with his eyeshadow to day, and what might appear to match his outfit and work against the gray atmosphere of his pocket dimension. I simply had the same makeup, as it was nice and practical, so for things like this I felt as though I floundered on what to do whenever I had to do something so much more...
Feminine?
I let the word swirl about in my thoughts. Was it the one I'm looking for? I... maybe. Sombra certainly has more a few feminine interests than me, though I am a mare, and he's so much more stylish. I am beautiful, he tells me, and I am stunning and gorgeous, he says. Sombra does make me feel beautiful, but there is something curious that remains in this, though I try to get used to his habits - the fun of our photography is one thing. My thoughts still remain, and I try to adjust.
Even as I look at pictures from weeks ago, I know I've never met anypony like Sombra. That has always been true, but I've also never known a way to understand the peculiar allure he has when he's like this. A hobby is a good way to put this, for it is that to him, and there might be something more to it as well.
And I love him through it all.
Finding a satisfying example of Sombra's eyeshadow in the past, I present it to him. "How do you think this one would look?"
He looks at it with eyes that are always the same, regardless of how Sombra decides to be Sombra, and there is a critical understanding in them, something I never bothered to have when considering my own cosmetics. I did like to look pretty, and to feel pretty, but that never struck me as the way to really feel so.
However, Sombra looked gorgeous.
"I think it would be great," he said eventually, the slightest of adorably crooked smiles showing on his muzzle.
I gently opened the lid of his makeup container and smiled back.
Sombra would look great, and I would get to help. Today, that was one of the few things I needed.
I could love Sombra, but not like this. The turquoise hue of my aura dimmed, and I saw the result of my spell.
Sombra was far shorter, as was expected from a successful, consensual age spell, but he was still clearly quite tall for a youth.
Before I could take in his other features, I frowned thoughtfully. With my great skill in magic, one that is world-class even among the divine, I can safely perform various enchantments that usually would result in death, disaster, or persecution.
Age spells never really manifested if a lower unicorn tried to perform them, but for skilled and higher powered unicorns, age spells were risky, largely due to the last part. Age spells were only ever to be performed safely and with clear, informed consent in specific and negotiated scenarios. To do otherwise was a violation of the law.
Sombra raised one of his forehooves up closer to his eyes to he could examine it. "I... I never thought I would ever see myself like this again," he said, voice low and clearly rather nervous. His movements were not shy, and yet his usual confidence was softened now, as his gestures were quiet and careful.
The sound of his voice astounded me. Never had I heard his baritone so... underdeveloped. He did not sound like an immature youth, whose voice cracked with every other word, but he sounded so terribly young, far, far younger than I was used to. Moodiness I do not think he intended to communicate had a sort of snap at the edge of his syllables, and where his posture was not as I knew it, his tone was still confident.
And there was something sad and far away in his voice. His eyes did not look young, not if you really looked at them. I have no doubt that Sombra's eyes, though they would have been the same crimson I knew, would be different had I looked into them when he was a hurt and miserable colt.
His coat looked more notably scruffy in this state, and it was not winter, but the tips of Sombra's ears and chest were slightly fluffier looking.
I walked toward him and carefully sat myself down close to him. "Sombra, are you alright?"
He swallowed and nodded, and I watched him with calm concern. Sombra's ears were nearly folded back. He bit his lip delicately and I could see adorable little fangs. They were clearly not what he would have had in youth: they were smaller, and clearly worn. Sombra had to have more teeth than a creature his age did, since age spells don't remove adult teeth or add them, but properly performed ones can accompany these developments painlessly.
"Why don't you come here?"
He swished his tail and looked around shiftily, a look of deep thought in his eyes. Once a few moments of that had passed, he walked expertly on his lanky legs over to me, and with the curve of my wing, I batted at him a bit as he lowered himself.
Sombra growled sharply at my wing and his pupils widened with surprise. Yes, those certainly did not sound like adult growls.
"I would like it very much if you would stay under my wing."
The endearing little growls ceased, and Sombra's ears pricked up. He blinked at me. "Why didn't you say so?"
It was true that normally I wrapped my wing around Sombra gently, slipped it over him, or he decided when he would be under my wing. For be to 'steer' him with it was new, and... motherly.
Sombra's eyes were on me again. Even as a foal, he stood at a height close to the jawline of an average pony, so we were quite close. Instinct gripped me and I wrapped my wing around him more tightly. "Luna, why are you blushing?"
I tried to look away, and Sombra poked my cheek with one of his forehooves in retaliation. His usual cloak and metal boots were ill-fitting now, and in a pile upon the mountain grass.
"I never knew you used to be so unbearably adorable."
"I am not," he muttered, and oh how absolutely moody it sounded! "Or, I was not at this age."
I giggled. Somepony had grown tolerant of being told he was cute in a gruff, sassy, and absolutely wonderful sort of way. "You're delightful!"
A certain agitated 'teenager' rolled his eyes and cuddled closer to me. "Yes, I'm sure I am."
He is quite the delightful demon, but there are days when 'cute' and 'delightful' get the same reaction from him.
Maybe it was wrong to say I didn't love him like this. I did still hold him closer than any other, but right now it did not go past that boundless emotional attachment. Our romance was paused now that he was under this spell because I felt nothing knowing his body was that of a foal's.
"How does it feel?" I asked him softly.
"Being like this again? It... brings back memories."
"Unpleasant ones?"
He sighed heavily, and it hurt to hear that even in the voice of a youth there was weight to it. "Not yet."
"Please," I asked gently, "just let me know when to undo the spell. I would loathe for this to be a horrid experience for you."
Sombra snuggles further into my wing, nodding an affirmative into my coat.
Together, we let more moments of the afternoon slip by in peaceful silence. He purred softly, and I was surprised at how much more innocent it sounded with his adolescent voice, for it was not as deep coming from a smaller creature.
And then I asked him: "Why is it I could not make you any younger?"
It was asked only because I desired to satisfy curiosity, and still, when I felt him stir there seemed to be something deeper in his response.
"I've never been any younger. There is nothing to further for your spell to find."
This was the single most fascinating result of a full age spell in any recorded history on the whole Eastern Continent, as far as I knew. And that, of course, was quite a lot. On ponies and other creatures, a full age spell brought that being back to infancy. That was it. Nothing had ever happened where such an age spell had achieved anything less than infancy, except in cases where accidents occurred, and death, injury, and surges resulted. I could not speak of any results on Alicorns, since no such thing had ever been done to one before, nor was any mortal powerful enough to perform such a feat upon one.
Or perhaps there were simply none that I knew of. It did not change that I was exposed to something riveting: a full age spell that brought a creature down, not to infancy, but to fourteen years of age. Yes, both were the earliest ages of two creatures, but spells did have a habit of 'correcting' things upon occasion, often depending on how they were channeled.
This would mean that what were thought of as 'infancy spells' by many a sorcerer today were actually no such thing, regardless of most ways the magic for the spell was focused. Instead, they were 'full age spells' meant to bring a creature down to its earliest possible age safely. For most mammals, that meant a soft and weeping infant with many memories lurking in a fog of magic as a result. For Sombra, it meant he was fourteen until our experiment was done.
Such a discovery, no matter how small, was absolutely fascinating! I wanted to scoop him up in my forehooves and nuzzle him; I wished for us to fall into the banter of magical semantics that passed so easily between us, blissfully absorbed by jargon and technicalities as much as we were with one another.
Just like many more things were, this was to be one of our many secrets. I could feel it. One day, we might put forth our findings, but it certainly was not to be any time soon. I had little desire to offer up information gathered as a result of our various experiments and discoveries, no matter the less-than-ideal state of magic in the world. But I knew Sombra would, one day. He could refine things like this expertly.
So we watched great clouds move across the sky instead. Below this mountain outcropping, there were darker clouds being pushed toward Canterlot. Weather imports were reaching their destination, and the magic of many sorcerers of the city where it would be sorted, prepared, and distributed properly.
Today would call for rain in the city, and I found my mind swept up in the inevitable cold splashes of a drizzle that would grace my coat on my flight back. A sigh escaped me, and I nuzzled the top of Sombra's head.
"An afternoon storm will be nice, don't you think?"
He nods as well as he can with my muzzle resting between his ears. With Sombra, silence can often mean he's deep and thought, and a familiar itch to know his musings creeps over me.
"What are you thinking about, Som?"
"You."
Deeper into the locks of his mane my muzzle goes. "Oh?" I whisper, hoping for the dark locks to muffle the sounds. "What about me?"
"What if we weren't together?"
I know he could feel me swallow quickly. "...Are you feeling alright?"
"Yes, and I'm sorry. That was a poor way to phrase things." One of his ears flicked and it nearly hit my face in a playful bat, but I knew the gesture was meant to be one of reassurance, no matter how many times my mind immediately thought to worry over something first.
"How did you mean it, then?" I asked curiously.
"What I meant was what if something about how we met was different and we didn't or couldn't have gotten together? Had I first faced you on the day of my banishment and been a colt instead of a stallion by some twist of things, we would have reunited as a mare and a colt."
"An immortal colt, if we have things proceed largely the same way," I chimed in.
"Exactly. And regardless of any feelings I had toward you... they wouldn't be mature. Or, they wouldn't be what I have for you now. If I were to be stuck as a colt for all eternity with you, we couldn't have a relationship."
"Nor would any feelings of anything but the deepest camaraderie have developed between us," I murmured. "Though, it would be adorable if you at least had a bit of an infatuation with me, hm?" I giggled teasingly into his mane.
"I think it would hurt a bit too," Sombra said quietly.
"Oh, Sombra. I am so sorry, that is not what I meant-"
"Luna, it's nothing to worry about. And yet... what would I have been to you if that was our circumstance?"
"An immortal youth and a maiden goddess?"
"Yes."
"I think you would be something like a brother to me, or as Twilight Sparkle is to my sister, only a much deeper bond, of course. In fact, though I have desired no apprentice, I think you would be an all-too-worthy exception, and I would adore you as my ward. I shall need some company in eternity, and no matter the reality, you will always be wonderful."
"Thank you," he whispered.
I wrapped a foreleg around him in response and pulled him into a quick embrace. "No, Sombra, thank you. I think it is best that we acknowledge any reality without you is bound to be a lonely one, aside from the fact you have halted disasters and the near-end of the world, which certainly would have made for a 'lonely' future indeed. That, few could have done, and fewer still I would consider fine company... and with the miserable time in my life I was at," I said more carefully, "I do not think I would have ever felt anything for anypony and given up on looking for a lover. Something would just be so empty in the eyes of others, and a part of myself. I would look into some great hollow in their being, and feel nothing. With you as a cherished ward, I could live well, though, even if nothing sparked between myself and another."
Sombra slipped out from under me, turning around to purr comfortingly and nuzzle my cheek. "I would always want otherwise... even if it did hurt me."
I couldn't help but sit up and pull him into a hug, and of course I had to tear up over something so silly.
"I love you, Sombra, and maybe it is possible, but considering our circumstances... and everything, about myself, about you... I would find it hard to love somepony else, in this world or another."
Touching my horn to his, I held him close and ignited my magic. My eyes were shut to blink away the little sentimental tears that had come about from our conversation.
When I opened them, I held Sombra as he should be: a grown, roguish stallion with eyes that held stubborn fire and intelligence, and a handsomely scruffy coat that was soft and comforting.
We were both smiling, and though he was no colt, I could still see it in him. I saw the difference in height, the different lines of his build, and something subtle about how his jaw had altered.
And I loved it, because he may be this tall, rugged, and wonderfully flamboyant stallion but he could also wear makeup better than me, and sometimes he was taller in spirit because of his confidence. I don't care how much taller I am than him, or whether he is dressed as a stallion or a mare, I don't really mind his 'high maintenance' status or his loathing of others.
He is beautiful. I have no qualms about that, about telling him. I do it often.
So for now I just tackle the poor fellow back to the ground, because I can.
I have something to tell him, anyway.
"I know that even were we adults in some other time, meeting on an airship, in other time," I begin, at least when I know he is listening, "that regardless of whether I favored mares romantically, or none at all, I would still love you ins some way. And Sombra, I would hope that in any world, something could work out between us. You could be my lover, my ward, my family, and many other things, but you'll always be the best of best friends. Aye?"
My hooves touched down on the grass of Canterhorn mountain silently, the dew on the blades dampening my bare hooves. I hadn't had the time to slip on my regalia, and it was so trivial right now. The moon I had raised so carefully earlier was high in the sky, and the tapestry of stars I had worked so excitedly on this dusk hid behind dark clouds gathered around the mountains. Such a sight matched my mood, as a storm of anxious feelings was brewing in me and my throat felt tight.
I could spot where Sombra's pocket dimension was anchored easily in the dark because of the amount of hoofprints that were visible.
I lit my horn, tried to swallow and tried to focus on anything other than the feel of my heartbeat and how warm with worry I felt on this night.
A pocket of grey appeared, and I hurried inside with one swift leap.
...
My night vision was not muddled by the dim shadows of Sombra's home, and I glimpsed more than the mere outlines of his things. Sombra, however, was not in sight. My chest tightened, and the quickened beat of my heart felt like it was fueling me to look around more.
Where is he? Has he left?
I swallowed again, and whispered his name, "Sombra?"
I think I heard something. Or somepony.
"Sombra?" I called again, but not with enough volume I might frighten him.
Please answer me.
The worry all wound up in my double-knotted itself. I think I know what as happened now, and it makes me feel worse.
A single sound breaks my increasingly frenzied thoughts: a shaking, muffled, and miserable sort of warble. It lasts briefly, and the sound is a bit deep to be called a 'warble', but I am familiar with the choked tone it has. It is how I know that it is the equivalent of a whimper for Sombra, and one of the few sounds like it he can make.
Please, please, please, comes the involuntary thoughts begging for any clue to where he is. I cannot see him, so he might be lurking among the more distant shadows of his plain realm, and his whimper could be distorted. I also worried he might be possessing something, and I would have to dig through objects and have to console him and coax him out from there.
There is that slight swelling in my throat again, and all because I know he's in distress.
A blur of motion occurs near gray crystal, moving blankets.
A crimson glow sparks in the dark.
There he is.
...
My heart is now hammering and aching, because I have found Sombra. He lies on his stomach, frozen with fear, and tangled up in blankets. His muzzle and face are pushed into his forehooves as much as he can, but he cannot quite hide his eyes, which are wide with fear. The poor fellow is shivering, and his ears are pinned back.
I sit beside him immediately, slipping a forehoof under his mess of quilts to rub his withers and pet what I can find of his mane. My vision is blurred by how watery my eyes are when I realize how tense he is.
"You're alright now," I whisper gently, even though I find it hard to make the words come out as calmly as I would like. "I promise you're going to be okay, Sombra."
And when it comes to these matters, I keep my promises.
When he nuzzles his head deeper into his forehooves, I snake one forehoof along his mattress until I reach his. To let him know that he has no reason to fear this contact, regardless of what his mind is experiencing, my touch would bring him no harm. He needed those reminders sometimes, so I rest my forehoof firmly on his own.
We were both lucky that he hadn't been overwhelmed with his terrors into thinking he must still fight something.
Wanting to soothe him to the point where we could interact with more ease, I drew as many deep breaths as I could, knowing I had to prepare my voice. Shutting my eyes to clear my budding tears and my mind, I searched for what I might sing to Sombra tonight.
My singing calmed him when my words failed me, and helped him to focus. They were an important part of these routines we had, and managed to ease his anxiety attacks, panic attacks, nightmares, night terrors, and various other episodes. Because of him, I had somepony to sing to, and in his better moments he would tell me how he found it lovely and that it guides him in dark times. I'm always trying to find what songs work best for different situations, but he mostly just seems to like my singing itself rather than anything specific. However, I find that my old folk songs and lullabies are often the most effective.
His love for lullabies is such an odd, fragile, and wholly unexpected thing to me, even now. Small melodies usually reserved for foals can help calm him when he needs it, and he'll hardly react to them outside of these times of mental troubles, epspecaily if I'm not the one singing them. He tends to be especially non-reactive then.
Deciding a lullaby will work tonight, I open my mouth and sing. The short melody is familiar to him, as well as many other foals throughout Equestria, and is little more than a timeless, anonymous song that I have been hearing versions of since the Tribal Era. Many young foals who struggle in their dreams have had me sing this to them as well.
"Hush now, quiet now It's time to lay your sleepy head Hush now, quiet now It's time to go to bed."
I want to talk to Sombra, not have him sleep, but this is such a gentle song that he's grown accustomed to hearing from me, even though I used to worry that Sombra would find me singing him lullabies to be condescending. It is nearly effortless to sing, too. All I need to do is repeat the single verse as needed, something that lulls young foals - and Sombra - into much calmer states when other things may fail.
And it appears as though this will be one of those nights.
"Hush now, quiet now It's time to lay your sleepy head Hush now, quiet now It's time to go to bed."
I move a forehoof to his mane, feeling traces of cold sweat under them as I stroke the ragged dark locks.
"Hush now, quiet now It's time to lay your sleepy head Hush now, quiet now It's time to go to bed."
I light my horn softly, let a galaxy of small werelights in a variety of teals, blues, and turquoise reflect across the gray and shadows. Darkness may soothe Sombra and I, but soft glows hurt so few, and tonight, I think he needed a little something else to focus on. The sparkles and purple highlights of my mane are lit up brightly and beautifully. It takes me a few minutes to realize that I am smiling, if only a little. With another few sparks of my magic, a miniature galaxy of cheery stars swirling about glittering aura dances about just for Sombra.
Seeing one of his forehooves inch away from his eyes to behold what I've created for him warms my heart.
I keep petting his mane, murmuring to him about how he's going to be okay, that I'm here for him, and all the usual promises I always follow through on. He doesn't shiver any longer, and he's not as tense. While I am thankful for that, he still feels anxious and is not breathing right.
I know my lullaby worked well enough, thankfully, and my starry lights were a welcome distraction. With that known, I moved my forehooves and quickly flipped him onto his back as efficiently and kindly as I could, provoking a sharp intake of breath from him and a startled sort of yelp.
His eyes were still wide even when it was done, and he drew a few shallow breaths. I moved one of my forehooves to rest oh his chest, applying gentle, firm pressure.
"Breathe, Sombra."
He swallowed forcibly, making an awkward noise in the back of his throat. His forelegs shook slightly.
"Breathe in, Sombra," I said again. My tone was gentle and clear, just like it was supposed to be for the breathing exercises I had him do in times like these. I took one calm breath in and tapped his chest lightly. "In," I said quietly.
He took one shaky breath, and I wanted to scoop him up into a hug right there.
"Breathe out," I told him.
Sombra exhaled raggedly, and he didn't look as though he was focusing right. There was a still-wild gleam in his eyes, but not his usual sharp one. It was on edge and unsettled. I stirred the small display of stars I had created for him, hoping the overt presence of my magic would act as a sensory aid, knowing that he was intrigued and attracted to the feeling.
"Breathe in," I repeated, noting that his next breathe was easier.
His gaze was fixed on my little stars now, and the movement of his eyes traced their paths, with his mane spilling out across his face and behind him. Were he not so upset, I would say he was a very handsome sight.
The sour feeling in my stomach had eased, too. I still felt that his heartbeat was racing.
"Breathe out," I told him once more, pulling a few blankets from his tangle of them, and stuffing a few behind him in order to prop him up.
He did, and it was not as shaky. I think I saw more focus in his eyes too.
"Breathe in," I repeated yet again, watching as he scooted slowly into something closer to sitting upright.
There were times when we had to do this for close to an hour or more, where I worked to pull him closer to me with every breath, look, touch, and use of his name. There were entire nights he was distraught, but I could never find it in my heart to be impatient with him.
I was prepared to do this until dawn.
"Breathe out."
Sombra's exhale held a sigh too heavy for him to bear alone.
...
Twenty-two excruciating minutes later, Sombra leaned against my wither, wrapped in his worn quilts and one of my wings, and was drawn as close to me as possible. He was exhausted, and I worn and concerned. I nuzzled him tenderly behind his ears and in his mane, because he looked miserable: his mane was in disarray, his eyes were weary, and he looked so gloomy and pained.
I used careful nibbles and licks to groom Sombra, gently working through as much as his mane and work through his coat where it was uncovered. On most days, even the bad ones, Sombra would sigh happily, or in relief from my efforts, all his fears dissolving into his more usual behaviors. Oftentimes, he would nip my ears, neck, or even my rippling mane in an enticing display of playfulness that was far too irresistble to refuse.
Tonight Sombra was so forlorn it hurt.
I nickered into his mane softly and stroked his cheek with my feathers, and he cuddled closer to me, still so weary from his ordeal.
I planted a kiss on his head and let him adjust himself as he needed, wanting him to be comfortable. Now was about time we talked.
...
"Was it just a nightmare tonight?" I ask, twirling a bit of his mane in my magic. My display of magic was done, and now I was free to toy with his mane however I pleased.
Sombra gave one exhausted breath and shook his head. Due to how he had arranged himself, all he ended up doing was nuzzling further into my coat. Times like these are when he normally does not wish to talk, or he'll ramble so frantically in hopes that I will listen, even though he has a harder time focusing on things.
I always do listen, and my heart aches with him.
Perhaps today might not be one of those days, where he needs me to watch what he says with every little gesture alone. He might have something to get off his chest tonight. I certainly do.
"I woke up fighting..." He wants to say a name, or what he saw. Or he might just be fixating on it so intensely, as he often does, because his words hang so abruptly that I stifle a little gasp, expecting an ending, an identity to his latest terror, or a memory burned into his fitful slumber to be outlined so vividly for me, word by word.
"Again," he says instead, the word so blunt to the both of us. He said it with the impact I would expect from a cursed tomb being sealed at last.
I don't offer up the hollow platitudes and empty condolences my sister would; not now and not ever. I have never even done so to foals. My wing around Sombra, how I lean into him after he has spoken, and the look we share seals more than those such terribly needless words ever could right now.
We are direct with one another, whether it be through words or looks, and I look right into those crimson eyes of his and see that always he remains unbroken, though he still is so weary tonight.
Leaning forward, I guide him into a short kiss, knowing that he really is so terribly our of sorts to accept my gentle guidance instead of leaning into it himself.
When we part, I tell him what has lurked in my thoughts: "I thought I had sensed your presence calling to me on dream-errands, and yet you've been so curiously absent these bast few days. Why is that?"
He sizes up every feature of concern I bear to him, knowing that no matter what, I have always made the effort to recognize the call of his dreams above other ponies'. I place his dreams and our encounters within as a higher priority than many other dream-visits that are so much more like trivial errands in comparison. "I haven't been sleeping."
That's why...
The problem practically clicks into much greater clarity. The absence of any indicators he was sleeping at all meant exactly what it sounded like. With absolutely no way for me survey all the dreams and sleeping creatures there are, I relied on the intangible pulses of 'calls' - though, sometimes they were audible - of dreamers to show me where to go. Nightmares and night terrors had a strong tug to them, as did dreams with great intensity in general. Lucid dreams were usually just droll occasions where I would have to show up and find some fool who had to have it explained to them that just because they know that they are dreaming does that mean that they can scream out wantonly that they have the ability to challenge me, because they have no such thing.
These signals are distinct, and that means that those with recurring dreams will often be easier to recognize when such calls go out. Sombra has one of the most distinct calls, and I have put great effort into working my magic to get as much information out of the impression he has in the world of dreams, something that I have not done for anypony else. This way, I can make more educated guesses on how much sleep he has been getting to deduce not only when his work means he'll be travelling, but so that I can answer incidents like these as I need to.
All of it is work I am immensely proud of.
Reaching up with a foreleg, I stroke Sombra's cheek with soft, affectionate movements. "Why is that?" I asked him between pets, "You only just got back from Las Pegasus, and you mean to tell me you have not slept since...?"
I waited for him to supply an answer, and he did quickly.
"Not since before I left."
That meant that Sombra's mercenary work-trip to the great city along the bay, he hadn't gotten...
Poor Sombra...
Without hesitation, I pulled him into a great big bear hug, muffling his sounds of surprise and protest by wrapping him up in both wings and forelegs, so that he was in a tight, proper embrace of feathers and might.
No sleep for two weeks was dangerous for any mortal, it was not uncommon for the divine. I was used to going for months without sleep and my sister is capable of doing so for years, but only after we have allowed ourselves to adjust to putting our minds and bodies through such conditions.
Sombra could go long without sleep, but it was his mental health that had me worried... and his sleep cycle was still so poor.
"What is it that keeps you from sleep for so long, Som?"
Sombra pulls me closer. "I..." I felt him swallow and rubbed one forehoof into his mane to caress it, and used the other to hold him closer.
"What troubles you, hmm? To not sleep on your entire trip... is it insomnia? Is your slumber off?"
Those were the usual problems. Though his enjoyment of coffee helped with keeping him awake when he needed to be, it could make him oddly anxious at times. If I hadn't suspected he might have either gone on an unhealthy binge to prolong this condition, or his own paranoia was keeping him so restless, I would suggested he have some, no matter how ill I think of the foul stuff.
He appeared slightly twitchy still, and didn't smell like he had been drinking any coffee recently, so my guess was on his own mind. It was a great, dark, dangerous thing and I loved him for it, even if sometimes it was Sombra who fought himself most of all. Sometimes, even referring to some of his habits as 'paranoid' hurt because he really did have such reason to be, and I didn't want to invalidate any of his concerns and worries.
"I don't want to go to sleep," he mumbled sullenly.
"'Don't want to'?" I echoed back to him, trying to nudge him towards a proper answer.
"...I'm..."
I patiently pat the top of his mane. A faint glow of my aura appears, and I use my telekinesis to give slow, deep scratches behind Sombra's ears.
"Mmrph. Luna that-"
"Feels nice?"
Exhaling deeply, Sombra nods into my withers. "Oh, yesss~."
"Just tell me what you must when you can. I shall not be departing any time soon."
"Mmm, lucky me."
"You are very lucky indeed. I bet you're lucky I'm a wonderfully good listener too! Does that not tempt you to want divulge anything to me?" I move the forehoof that was helping with keeping Sombra close to me down so I could properly prod him in his exposed stomach.
"Mur-arp! Luna!" he protested, and since we were all but muzzle-to-muzzle, I got to watch how silly he looked. Not every time I had to encourage and help him communicate his thoughts and problems was peppered with jokes; there were times when we hurt too deeply to be laughing at all.
"Just tell me what's wrong," I whispered into his ear.
"...I'm afraid to sleep."
All my playfulness melted to a look of pure worry. "Is it your night terrors?"
"I'm not entirely sure," he admitted, "I just don't want to. I can't. I don't want to have to dream knowing what I'll feel or..." He gulped. "Wake up afraid. Finding myself alone when I... I want you..."
"To be here with you?"
He bobbed his head in a few somewhat anxious nods. I just let the ebb of the newly returned sour feeling in my stomach to carry, and let my sadness spread.
Sombra and I knew one another's dreams like a foal knows their backyard. I have revealed all that can be told to him, and there are few things Sombra has not confessed to me. We have both admitted to knowingly nearly everything of one another in all ways. We meet in our dreams when we cannot in the waking world. Together, we'll walk worlds of dreams all our own. There are rare times when I will take him dream walking with me to see others.
He fights so many inner battles and I am in awe of him for that, both due to personal experience and how his determination he has paid off. Sombra has confided in me that he would not trade his nightmares and the battles he has with them. I know that he would rather have them over no dreams at all, and there are some he can bear on his own. Lately, I feel as though he might be considering otherwise, at least when it comes to how often he has them. Twice a week tends to be the minimum for nightmares, and that is including those he can face on his own...
...but the ones he cannot...
Sighing, I tucked a few stray strands of his mane behind his ear with my feathers. "I think I have a solution for tonight."
We did tend to deal with this one night at a time. Daytime is when we held more lengthy discussions about all these occurrences and how they might be dealt with long-term.
"You do? What is it?"
"I shall stay here and sleep with you."
Only now did Sombra's gaze waver. One forehoof could not mask his unexpected smile entirely, and his chuckle grew into a wonderful sort of laugh. Combined with the knowing slyness spark shining in his eyes, we both knew he was at the point of insomnia where anything could prove funny.
Oh, and maybe I did trot right into that one. At least just a little bit.
"Absolutely, Luna! I'm all for that option," he said so lightly, laughing still, and shooting me a wink, "regardless of how you meant it."
I crossed my hooves and shot him an immense pout right back and absolutely did not smile.
My face did feel a bit warm though. Sombra was terribly handsome in cunning in equal measures, and knew how to extract pouts as he pleased.
I simply had to pout even longer because it wasn't fair he could do such a thing to get such a reaction.
Sombra leaned over, making a series of soft trills in my ears, and scooped me into an embrace. He was as hopeless a cuddlebug as he was a romantic, and the most successful plan to combat his nightmares so far were all the ones where I woke up to find he had wrapped his forelegs around me and held onto me the whole night. With night terrors, things were not always so easy: he mumbled in nightmares at times, but with nightmares he screamed. He would shout out entire conversations and heated fights into the darkness.
He lashes out, and wakes me with small bruises about my legs, back, hindquarter, and stomach.
And when I pull him from his memories, he's the one who is beaten, cursing himself and apologizing non-stop at the sight of them. And no self-hate and loathing is within Sombra's heart and mind. He adores himself almost as much as he expresses love to me, but I know there are deeds of his that he is troubled by, and times when he is too emotional to bother distinguishing them from each other.
With heartbroken eyes closer to tears than I could ever be used to, I meet his eyes over and over again, completely unafraid. We heal them together, I never blame him, and rebuke the severity he gives such actions. Bruises are rare, but their impact on him is all that really hurts. I cannot say I've ever been more than a bit startled by those; his fear and shouting is what really makes me afraid.
Afraid for him, if I am to be precise.
Is it really any wonder he can be so sullen? With so much on his mind, and how he does indeed lose sleep over his own dreams, how can he not feel drained now and then?
Quiet settles around us, and Sombra flops back onto his mattress. We both collapse together, in a tangle of limbs, with me lying atop him. Quilts surround us like twigs in a nest, creating a warm and protective feeling so deeply personal to us.
I can feel Sombra's heartbeat with how I am positioned.
He isn't afraid any more. I think that his eyes will be worried, though.
"Goodnight, Sombra," I whisper.
"I love you," he tells me, and he'll tell it to me again when we wake up. In place of every good morning, afternoon, evening, and night he only ever tells me he loves me.
He does not ask about what my sister will think when she realizes I am not in the castle either. I don't care if she fusses over something so silly, it matters not to me. Somepony truly needed me.
"I love you too, Sombra. See you in your dreams."
And I shall. There will be no dreamless sleep and similar slumber-spells tonight.
"Luna," I said firmly, "this is absolutely unacceptable."
Two turquoise found me, and a pouty, confused frown emerged on her muzzle. "Whatever could be wrong? Am I not doing this right?"
I tug at the hem of my cloak and raise an eyebrow, steadily training my gaze on her. "Must that really be asked?"
Luna's gaze falls to the empty containers covering my table, and the confused light of her eyes only deepened. "I fear that the answer is yes, because I do not see how making coffee the coffee you gave me suit my tastes is anything other than what you wanted."
"I told you to add some creamer, and we would see if that could help you."
Luna blinks. "Is that not what I did?"
My eye twitches, and I point a forehoof towards everything around her, all eighteen containers already on the ground, and the twelve all over the table. "What in Tartarus' name is this supposed to be, then?"
"Oh, Sombra," she says, smiling slightly, "this is all the creamer I added!"
Her magic flickers as she finishes emptying the container she currently clutched in her aura, and then she withdraws a new one from her saddlebags and opens it. The milky liquid pours right into one of my enchanted mugs, because I can feel the residual unseen crackle in the air where Luna had activated the pocket-space I had inlaid in each.
After all, that creamer had to be going somewhere.
"Luna," I said again, this time a bit more sternly, "have you even tried drinking it yet?"
Without looking up, she answers, "Yes, a few dozen creamers ago I most certainly did."
I sighed. "How did it taste?"
"Far too bitter, which is why I continue to distill the foul substance."
"Alright. Luna, stop it."
Concern sparking in her eyes, Luna's magic snaps the creamer shut and she finally sets it down and looks at me. "Som, I'm sorry. Was something wrong?"
Technically, no. And there's no reason not to be honest with her. "No, but you should try the coffee now."
Luna looks skeptical, but shrugs and scoops up the mug with another whirl of her magic and takes one long sip while I watch stoically.
Her muzzle wrinkles.
"What's wrong with it this time?" I ask.
"I think," Luna says carefully, "that perhaps I should not have neglected to add sugar."
"Which do you think would look better?" Sombra asks, holding two tubes of lipstick in his magic. The label on one simply reads 'scarlet' and the other is something bizarre labelled 'urban decay' and reminded me why I do not delve into cosmetics as deeply as my lover.
My muzzle crinkles in thought, and I try to sneak a peek at Sombra's outfit as subtly as possible for a comparison. He was wearing a fashionably cut sundress with a plain sash and faintly ruffled hem, and while it was quite nice I was not as drawn to it as he.
The straps rubbed the coat around his withers in such a way to make it extra scruffy in a way he would never admit was adorable, but did not chafe his coat like the dreadful fishnets I had him try one time, only to regret it when I had seen his displeasure. He has such a better eye for these sorts of styles beyond just describing them and quietly sorting them as feminine as I do. If I did these things with anypony else, I think I would wonder if there was something wrong with me.
Everything I suggest just seems so grossly exaggerated compared to what he wants to wear, and something embarrassing just happened every time we had a mishap. It felt like a little bit of it was my fault.
So I tried to look at his skirt carefully, for some secret of high-femininity to be revealed to me as it was to other mares, one that could help me select the proper kind of lipstick for my boyfriend. The pale shade of butterscotch merely continued to appear delicate and pastel. When his coat was colored a little differently for going out today, it would look even better.
I tried to think of this being like a painting, and I needed to just pick the next color, but all my mind did was remind me that I was selecting lipstick and this became infinitely more puzzling.
Should this not be fairly easy? He wanted to look pretty, he was already so pretty, and he made me feel beautiful for who I was.
But there was something complicated in all this, wasn't there?
Eventually, I thrust a forehoof toward his scarlet tube of lipstick. "This one looks a bit bolder, I think."
And really, I did think so, I just wasn't sure I was certain about it.
...
Sombra scrutinized his reflection carefully. His critical eye examined every inch of himself in the mirror he kept, and while the gray of his pocket realm was visible in the background, Sombra was the absolute star of all that was shone in his mirror.
I sat quietly next to him, only visible because I bothered to lean over and peer into the shining surface. I was faced with the frank sight of my owlish stare, and how my mane rippled and sparkled with an air of clear curiosity. My dark tiara and necklace were in place for now, but I was prepared to exchange all my regalia for more suitable apparel for a disguised date.
Sombra decided that today was a day to dress as a mare for such an occasion, and something about his dress wasn't satisfying him. I was not sure what it was, for at first glance it appeared to be fine, but Sombra's horn was lit steadily and he tugged at it.
The fabric of minidress was a bit tight, but I think that was how they were supposed to be. I would not be able to stand wearing such a thing, but Sombra wanted to. The low-cut wine colored fabric gave a wide view of his withers and clung to his hips and sides. He had told me that he had to get it custom made because there were places on a mare's garment that should be tight that a stallion would not desire. To me, that was immensely understandable, if for different reasons.
I think I liked that he chose to have the skirt longer than most dresses of its kind. Som loves long, flowing skirts dearly, so something more akin to a pencil skirt - that was what Cadance said they were called - was an odd sight to see on him. While the way that it clung to him made it very clear he was no mare, and could not pass for one all that well, he did look very charming.
I continued to quietly watch as he tugged at the smooth fabric, adjusting it near his hips so it did not wrinkle. His jaw, his hips, and other signs made it so obvious that he wasn't a mare, and I liked them. A lot.
His horn dimmed and he cocked his head to the side, eyes still trained on himself. I scooted closer to him, and gently laid a hoof on his wither. He flinched slightly, and I caught a glimpse of momentary surprise in his eyes, even if all the glittery eyeshadow he had on might be distracting, it couldn't take away the constant allure of his eyes.
"It's just me," I assured him, and he gave a slight nod, looking down slightly.
"I know, I-"
"Shh, it still happens sometimes. I understand that, but what I hope you understand is that I would adore doing your mane."
He turned his head and looked at me quickly, any hint of momentary worry gone and his ears perked with interest. His mauve lipstick made his odd, tiny frown of latent interest - a subtle quirk only I knew how to read on him - all the more cute, in a weirdly reassuring sort of way. I think this would go okay.
"Do you want to braid it?" he asks, quickly running his magic through the usual disheveled locks.
I nod eagerly, reaching up to stroke it absentmindedly. With how close we are, the smell of his shampoo is strong, and it has the aroma that I've come to understand is more strongly associated with stallion's mane care products - and expensive ones at that. There was the faint hint of mint in the air, along with the usual smell of wind, warmth, and wild places he carried.
Sombra clearing his throat was what pulled me from my happiness and made me realize that I had wrapped my forelegs around his neck and pulled him into a hug, my cheek casually pressed into his chest fluff that on some occasions maybe did look a little goofy.
"For the mare who is cruel enough to constantly accuse me of being a 'cuddlebug', you're being awfully huggy."
"Mmph," I protested.
"No," he scoffed, "of course I'm not complaining."
Being turned away from the mirror meant that Sombra saw a reflection of my mane, and thus missed the roll of my eyes. "Mmph mmh."
"Get your face out of my coat and say that to my face like a real mare." Sombra pulled me off of him with his magic brusquely, but not cruelly, and he glared at me without any genuine irritation.
I looked at his reflection again, watching his tail flick back and forth. "You really do love to be spoiled though, don't you?"
Sombra grumbled something I couldn't catch and was poor at pretending he didn't see the faint coloring of his own cheeks in the mirror.
"You're going to have to speak up," I whispered into his ear, and watching as he grouchily flicked it as my breath met it. I settled back down to where I was, giggling into a forehoof while he sighed.
"Maybe," he grumbled, sitting down with careful grumpiness and a glamorous wink at his reflection.
He let my magic tease a lock of his mane and accepted the signal to scoot closer to me. I began to hum as I combed through the dark hairs in order to make a proper braid while Sombra observed everything.
"What are you doing differently?"
My humming ceased. "Whatever do you mean, Som?"
"The way you're moving my mane is different this time. I think it's obvious you're going to be doing something differently too."
I smiled down at him. "I was thinking that a single Prancian braid would be nice. It would give your mane a nice wave when we take it out. Would you like that?" My magic moved down, ruffling his bangs teasingly. "I'll leave these as you like them."
This must have meant more to him than I thought, because after a brief silence, he answered me. "Yeah," Sombra said softly, searching his reflection for something I hoped he found, though I know not what it was, "I would like that a lot."
"Well, huzzah! That will be splendid, because after so many years of knowing these terribly ancient beauty secrets-" I winked at him "-I would love to do this for you."
He smiled at our reflection, but there was something unsure in his eyes. "Where did you learn to do this?"
"My sister," I replied, gathering more of his mane. There was something about stallions who kept their mane long that was enticing, and Sombra's was absolutely divine. Long manes on stallions and mares, and short coltish looks on mares were fine things. "She loved all things beauty as a a filly, or at least what she knew. As fillies, before all our travels, she would always want to play together. Now, I loved playing with her, but she only ever wanted to play together, not alone, and to play alone was so much more fun to me. She had whole hosts of dolls, dresses, tea sets, and such but made me her favorite. I was her daughter in every game of house and her dress-up baby before, when I was too young to protest, and everything else she sought to control in our games."
"That sounds like an incredibly one sided game," Sombra says, frowning in thought. I shall probably have to explain to him what things like 'house' are some other time, because I don't think he would know.
"They often could be, but hardly in any offensive way. She ruled, and wanted me to follow because I was the little sister. I didn't like having our mother's make up on me in excess, or dressed up in her dolls' clothes, and my mane styled every possible way, but it never hurt. Maybe there were times when my pride was wounded from awkwardness, but nothing else. Growing older was much more fun because then I finally got to be things I was more comfortable with. Those things were much more interesting, like being the knight to her queen. But it is because of her that I learned many things about beauty beyond the extent of which I would have normally thought to look into. She helped there just as much as she buys me admittedly embarrassing dresses to wear to galas and coronations."
And I would have given you those dresses if any of us had actually liked them and I really thought that they should be worn by anypony.
Sombra's braid was coming along well. He was so eager to watch my movements, to listen to what I had to say, and...
I love him. Poets spend lifetimes writing of love, philosophers war over matters of the heart, and here I am, having watched and read so much of it, but I just collect every little thing about being in love with him and cherish it.
I want me braiding his mane today to be a way that I tell him I love him, and I want him to know that. I have these peculiar doubts that I must ruminate on, and these complications all regarding a dress, and him, and all of it together and I must say them right. I don't want to say them, but I will have to. I don't want to talk about these things, not now when we have a date.
When his braid and done, and house is explained, and we've had more words to share, I make the extra effort to show Sombra himself in the mirror. I know it is always him because... well, Sombra is male. He never asks to be called otherwise, he gets confused when he is, and yet he doesn't quite correct anypony. I think I should understand this by now, about him and his dresses, but I do not, not fully. I don't know why. I always have questions I do not know how to ask him, or if I should.
What I do know is that sometimes, when he decides to dress like this, and is disguised properly, ponies will look at me with something like disgust when I refer to Sombra as male.
But right now, I really do try not to worry about that, and I get to see his expression. Now that I've finished, his bangs are slightly adjusted so the disheveled part of his mane covers one eye a bit more than the other, and his thick mane is in a fine Prancian braid.
He's smiling his crooked smile at the sight and his eyes look happy. And yet, that makes me feel rather crumpled inside, because I know that this isn't unhealthy, not in the slightest. But in all this, I'm missing something. I've been missing something about this, though Sombra has been wonderful enough to explain all to be, and I still don't understand something.
I'm missing something, and my emotions are rather... haphazard, I would say.
But stars, he looks pleased and confident. He even leans over to give his reflection a big kiss that leaves a clear lipstick imprint on the mirror.
He pulls away from the surface, giving an extremely satisfied look to his reflection, a lazy smirk on his face, and his lipstick in need of touching up. "I'm certainly looking forward to tonight, especially when I look like this. Are you ready to leave?"
I nod, knowing we can work on our disguises on the way without notice. "You're going to have the attention of everypony at the symphony."
"I'd rather have your undivided attention." The way he's watching me so calmly in the mirror, his stare so reasonable and sharp makes me think that he suspects something.
He can't know, can he?
...
"I truly doubt that I can pull this off properly," Sombra grumbles. He looks tired, or perhaps just dissatisfied behind his sharp cat-eye glasses, and ones he doesn't really need. He teases his messy mane once and lets his aura fidget with his pearl necklace freely. "And I can pull most things off. But a secretary?"
He shakes his head at the sight of his pencil skirt. "As much as I like my own butt, there's something dreadfully underwhelming about this costume. I just don't like it."
"Well," I said, watching him inspect the red blouse that he seemed to have moderate satisfaction with, "I thought that if we were going to do couple's Nightmare Night costumes, we should go as something with clothes we like. I would be the businesspony and you would be my secretary."
"Secretaries aren't even intimidating, and isn't that half of what the costumes are supposed to be?"
I looked at my own sharp suit in the mirror, and how it contrasted with my ceremonial cuff links and the tacky tie I had selected. I thought the goldfish pattern had some merit to in it, in a goofy and foalish sort of way that would appeal to the holiday, but my diva of a lover was quick to deem it tacky, though I didn't mind."That is half of it, but dressing up in disguise as something you are not is the other half, and you are certainly not like any secretary I have met. My sister's secretary is a gossipy, meek, and obsessive little mare and it seems that some of her habits are a bit of a trend in the profession. I thought you might wish to wear the dress."
Had I gotten it wrong? I would love to see how handsome Sombra would look in a suit for this, and a more conservative and practical secretary costume would be one I would enjoy pulling off, even if it did have a little skirt. A longer one could be substituted, if I wished it. But had I been wrong? Did Sombra not want to wear mare's clothing this time? Was I being presumptive? Or pressuring him?
He flipped the collar of the crimson shirt up. "The blouse is very nice, though. I really think we should try different costumes. This one really doesn't work, and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with it. What are Pink One and Glitter Sprinkle going as for this?" He toyed with the pearls some more, clearly intrigued by them. "I like this idea, the couple's costumes," he muttered. "It's... nice."
How romantic, I thought, knowing I might have something to tease Sombra about later.
"Cadance is going to be a cheerleader and Shining will be a hoofball player. He was the one who picked their costumes this year, going by those choices."
Sombra ran a forehoof through his mane. "Maybe we should do something equally plain then?"
"Perhaps we could. What did you have in mind?"
Sombra smirked, approaching me for the sole purpose of winding one of his forehooves into my mane and nibbling at my ear flirtatiously, and wrapping one forehoof around my withers. It was enough for me to see his telling smirk and the gleam in his eyes. These were the little signs that told me he liked how I smiled back, and every little reaction I had. His breath was warm on my ear, and I could feel him purr with the gesture.
"I was thinking," he whispered, "that we go as the handsome rogue and the clever maiden he loves so dearly."
"With pleasure," I said, laughing happily and nuzzling him. "I would adore it!"
We were already those things, to some degree, but we loved getting a chance amuse one another with those roles in more lighthearted, purely affectionate, and rather romanticized ways compared to how we really were.
And I really would adore it if the mood was right. The thought of Sombra and I dressed up as we chose and getting to indulge in affection and banter with one another so cleverly was exciting, and we were good actors, too. This lead to such sweet fun.
He happily returned the nuzzle and I was already imagining how he might look. With careful telekinesis, I pried off his sunglasses and kissed him right below the horn. There was a terrible inequality between a secretary and their employer, too, and it was not a status that held any joy, even in jest. On the other hoof, there was too much fun to be had when teasing one another so had roots in our natural behaviors.
"Enough with a secretary's guise then, Sombra. I want you to surprise me with what you pick. Cady and Shining will probably find our costumes underwhelming, but I think it will be splendid! Can I help with your mane?"
Sombra chuckled warmly and nuzzled into my mane. "Of course you can. Who else could I possibly consider?"
"Mhm, perhaps Cady? She taught you far too much about cosmetics-"
"Are you implying that my skills are dangerous?"
"Aye, they are as dangerous as your ability with spell and sword, Sombra," I said, gently guiding his forehoof from my mane with my own.
I looked into his eyes and knew that my words meant much more than I thought to him. Something very warm shone and grateful showed in his eyes.
I felt a bit guilty because of it. This was something that mattered to him, something secret that only I knew the extent of and Cady some of, and yet I was unable to understand something so fundamental about this.
I would tell him one day, for the sake of both of us.
...
My mane spilled out beneath me and I sighed contentedly, enjoying the sensation of the firm ground against my back. Grass brushed my coat and feathers, and the fresh air of the mountains was in my lungs, a scent that was familiar, crisp, and clear.
And the best part? It was just Sombra and I sprawled on this area of the Canterhorn, where we could laze above Canterlot and enjoy the peace of this place.
I was absorbed in the sight of the clouds and all their details as they floated across a vivid blue sky. They were large, thick, and silvery things that would be delightful to dip my feathers into.
My only interruption was when I heard the rustle of paper, and the thud of something being thrown. The impact of something against the nearby grass surprised me, and I swiftly sat up to see what it was, my mane rippling quickly. Like my ears, it flicked with interest, and I saw what had been tossed to me.
It was a newspaper. One of the page's corners had been folded purposely, though the paper itself was turned to the cover. The headline made it clear that of the capital's many newspapers, this one was Galloping Gazette, and one of the few I've known Sombra to read. He actively avoided getting much in terms of information from The Celestial Equestrian and The Canterlot Chronicle. There certainly were some present biases within those two, but he was quick to pick up the Gazette, which tended to just report on societal topics quite frankly, without needless equine interest stories shoved in to generate interest. Such a pragmatic paper was suitable for my pragmatic lover.
I scooped it up with my magic and flipped past the first few stories until I came to where Sombra folded the page. I quickly looked over the large photograph I was greeted with. Like many newspapers in Equestria, whether this one would contain primarily colored photographs, monochrome ones, or general infographics and similar visuals was uncertain, since it was one of the few things every paper had some bias towards. One instead of all, depending on what was desired.
This particular paper had a large colored photograph, which was a bit uncommon. In it, a mare with a broad smile and exaggerated makeup was sitting in what was clearly the foal's section of a library. She wore fine gloves and clutched a picture book. Her mane was styled boldly and wild curls were every which way, and her glittery dress swept downward like a waterfall of sequins to where a cluster of foals sat around her.
I looked over to Sombra, who sat beneath a small tree, enjoying the shade. He was clad in his usual cloak and nothing more. Despite the peaceful shadows, his hood was drawn. Sombra looked quite comfortable, but raised an eyebrow when he noted that I was watching him.
"Did you read the article?"
"Oh," I said, blowing a bit of my forelock out of my face. "I'm afraid I haven't."
He looked elsewhere, quickly finding something on the horizon to capture his attention. "It's interesting," Sombra said just loud enough for me to hear. "I thought you might like it."
I simply had to read it now, and dove into the article. The very headline I had so carelessly glanced over all but screamed about why Sombra was interested: these dramatic mares who outfitted themselves so notably were drag performers who dressed in finery the Canterlot elite found particularly trendy and entertained. In this instance, they read to foals throughout Canterlot at scheduled storytime events in libraries.
I admit, I probably should have paid greater attention to the details of this picture, but this mare did not look that unusual to me, and though I may be part of this sort of culture, I think, if only by some sort of technicality, I do not think I could be more greatly divorced from it, as I am from most things.
My only real exposure to these things are the confessions, revelations, and all the encouragement I offer to youth in their dreams over such matters. Quite a few have a favorite dragmare or stallion as an idol and are interested in this little subdivision of performing arts. Though, I do observe more than that on occasion. Sombra and I have our private celebrations of all these parts of identity, and it is impossible to avoid any of this in the era we live in. This is doubly true with Cadance as my friend and fellow princess, for she is just as excited for every June as she is each February.
"This whole event is rather sweet," I said, calling to him.
Sombra nodded, but looked distant. "I..." he trails off, gathering thoughts and playing with his tone carefully. "I like it too. The idea of these things..."
He trails off. Again. I frown. Rarely is he so reticent with me, and not like this.
"Som?" I probe gently.
His withers sag visibly despite his cloak. "...This appeals so much to me. The confidence, the boldness, the aesthetics... and I'll be damned if it can't be funny. Luna, I don't know how to tell you this..."
Sombra stopped, and swallowed. One of his ears flicked in frustration. "I don't know how to tell you this..."
He growled, lit his horn up with crimson, and teleported away. I know I didn't have to follow, that he needed time to sort things out, and that he needed this.
I didn't know something was bothering him so badly too.
But I didn't know how to respond.
...
I stared at the dress in the shop window. It was a canary and lilac sort of thing, and had the refinement I would expect from Canterlot tastes, but was also thoroughly unable to identify with. I would loathe to be in it, though loathe might be a bit strong, I would hardly enjoy the experience... as much as a mare I might be.
Sometimes things with Sombra made me wonder otherwise, but that only led to confusion and frustration at whatever this was. My identity was stable as well as familiar, and he was confident in his too... there were just communication issues.
Without any bother for elegance, I blew my bangs out of my face. My beloved blue mane had been exchanged for a cascade of darkish purple, one that hid a hint of sparkles of divinity that would not be easily hidden, and few, if any, would notice.
I looked very much the same too, for my eyes and coat were not exactly the subtlest guise, and my current mark may be fake, but was star related. My reflection confirmed this, and I continued to stand and stare curiously at the dress and ponyquin in the window with wide eyes. A walk in Canterlot was perfect for letting my thoughts stew and flow where they may, and nopony noticed me, so all was well.
I'm sure most thought me just another unicorn, and one that must be painfully average, as far as most residents of Canterlot go. I quietly enjoyed my unicorn disguise, for it was one I used when needed and felt like a comfortable extension of myself when I must use it at all.
The poster next to the ponyquin showed the Prancian-born model Fleur-de-Lis wearing the same type of dress in the boutique window. She was poised with the sort of cultured regality and dignity that was seeded so easily in Canterlot, but could appear a bit... stiff, in a way, like how any marble statue is still cold stone at every sunset, regardless of the wondrous detail and life of the carving.
Her and my sister were on the same sort of social circle form of acquaintanceship all the elite and royalty of Canterlot tended to have at some point, however brief. I spoke with her only a few times, because she was one of the few ponies that was interesting at the Gala, in the moments I bother to show up, and does not find the love of fencing we share to be 'unladylike' or unusual, and that is all I know of her. Her and her husband can prove socially exhausting, though I do not think they mean to be.
She is studded across so many beauty magazines, advertisement, and her name is frequently whispered at fashion events. Though, I only know most of this secondhoof. Twilight Sparkle's fiancée is knowledgeable on such matters, and though I am close to neither of them, I do hear most all that is sound around the castle.
I wonder what Sombra thinks of her, this mare who is such a conventional symbol of mortal beauty, and I know that is something I will have to ask him. I am sure he must have encountered the work she does in all his browsing of style.
I'm not sure I'll grasp it, how he has an interest in this and clearly something more, as well as all the other great passions and eccentric interests he has, shared or otherwise. I've learned to adore some of them, even if it is not as great as he, and we fuel something special by sharing them.
But I cannot dismiss this as a mere eccentricity. I am determined to know this as completely as I can, and support Sombra in something dear to him. This isn't what I thought it was, or whatever I am observing goes deeper than I thought.
Staring at this dress, and Fleur-de-Lis in her dainty gold jewelry doesn't give me much insight into anything feminine, and I feel deflated.
Sombra is not dainty, delicate, and he does not have this passive pastel pretentiousness some of these styles radiate, intentional or otherwise, even if he is in a dress. Sombra is alluring, he is bold... and wonderful. He is so terribly sassy and vivacious... and...
And I think I might understand this now, even a little. Perhaps.
There is nothing exaggerated about him in a way that feels purely for performance, though he has an honest sense of humor, even if it can be wicked. He does not do this to be sultry, though I'm sure there's something attractive about this to him...
I flick a few locks of my mane aside, and see a look of something brazen and hopeful on my face.
...
On a day when my confidence in myself is certain, I find Sombra halfway up my leisurely trek of Canterhorn Mountain. He stands aloofly, with a long, loose floral skirt billowing in the wind. His mane is teased by the breeze and his bangs fall freely into his eyes, but he looks at me with cool stoicism. The rest of his mane and tail have a few odd curls worked into their natural state, but he's tried pulling his mane up in a bun.
...And I actually rather like it.
"Hello, Sombra," I offer with cautious affection in my tone.
There is a sullen downward curl to his mouth. "Hello yourself," he mumbles, horn lit with a light amount of crimson aura and tugging at one of his curls.
The gesture is one that holds a terribly irresistible quality to it. I trot a few places closer, listening to the sound my shoes make in the grass.
"We need to talk." There, I have said all that must be said in order to begin this.
"I know," Sombra says, nodding towards a cluster of rocks where we might sit. "But you know that I wish we didn't have to."
I alight myself carefully upon a stone, and Sombra leans against one in his stubborn, nonchalant way, one that I'm much more used to than seeing the way the fabric of his off-wither shirt pressed against the gray of sun-touched stone. Despite everything, his shadow was a crooked constant, and his eyes were the same. I could never doubt those eyes.
"I do too, Sombra, though you know we must. Would you wish to start this off?"
"No," he says quickly and with an assurance I wish I had right now, "I need to hear what you have to say first, and I need to hear it badly."
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I can't believe that we've told each other everything before, and we couldn't tell each other this."
"We will." He flicks an ear with a hint of impatience, but there's a much softer look in his eyes. "And we're going to do it now. For the mare who understands everything and more about me, I don't know what I did wrong that could make this so difficult."
I laid my ears back slowly and nodded sadly, rubbing one of my fetlocks against the stone's coarse surface idly and trying to avoid wincing. Or Sombra noticing. My throat feels tight with all this foolish, congesting guilt.
Scowling, Sombra snatches up my forehoof in his magic roughly enough to make me yelp. "Don't," he growls. "We're going to do this together, and what reason could either of us have to come out hurt?"
"I apologize," I whisper again, flinching at how breakable my voice sounds. And yet, aren't I as fragile as I am strong? And as wounded as I can be defensive, at least when I feel so scraped up by these silly mistakes?
Sombra teleports and reappears next to me. He adjusts himself so that we can sit wither to wither, but insists on wrapping a foreleg firmly around me and pulling me close.
Stars, I love this stallion.
"Luna, I want to know what's wrong. Grant me that, because this situation can go many ways, but it will not go away."
I...
"I can do this?"
I sounded far more unsure of myself than I meant to, which is terrible to think, since my self-esteem is awfully fragmented right now.
"I certainly think you can," Sombra says, and he turns to me just so he can place a kiss on my neck. I know the effort is meant to comfort me, and I truly feel more properly pieced together because of the effort... but there is lipstick in my coat.
Sombra got lipstick on my coat.
And I did something horrible by tensing when he did that, and twitching because of the imprint it left on my coat. Usually I have time to brace myself for when I came in contact with his lipstick so I would not hurt him by appearing uncomfortable. I would also wonder what was wrong with me and why the sensation of lipstick was so detestable to me when I should be savoring Sombra's affections.
I have to face Sombra because I hurt him. I look at him directly, and stare into the eyes of a stallion I've hurt so deeply because of one terrible reaction, and watch him swallow visibly. His eyes look damp because of what I've done, and all he does is watch me.
He watches me look away, and make a choked gasp. He watches tears blur my vision because the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt him, but he refuses to let me hide my face behind my mane and forehooves.
I'm seized and pulled into a fierce hug, and one I keep telling myself I don't deserve throughout its duration. I know I should not think like that. I know I need to think about everything I can earn and do. I know I can't hurt myself by thinking about what I deserve, because then I really will hurt myself and every thought will be a Tantabus again, and I will keep telling myself that I must hurt myself because I deserve it.
I know I should listen to Sombra, because I have before for these things, and how we have extracted all catharsis and confessions from each other.
I know I should listen to Sombra right now because he is telling me that he loves me.
...
"Shall I begin?" I ask him softly. When we pulled away from each other, I found myself quickly absorbed with fidgeting with my mane, and twirling the thick, blue locks 'round my forehooves.
We still sat next to one another. To do so was instinct now, and we enjoyed being next to one another in calm content. I did not feel him lean against my wither today, and that was how I knew he was upset instead of seeking the peculiar solitude we could still share side-by-side when most ponies would want to spoil such tranquility with wasted words.
Sombra nodded with his usual assurance and melancholy both. It was a melancholy of character that he had, one of experience and reticence. He bore it well, and it was a facet of strength he had, but I was always saddened to see how it could flare when his mood was disturbed.
"I have finally found something about you that I struggle to understand, and it terrifies me." There. That was how I shall begin.
Sombra looks at me with distress in his eyes. "Luna..." he lowers his ears, "I don't know how to begin if that's how you-"
"Shh," I cooed softly, placing one forehoof to his muzzle delicately. "You do not have to say anything, remember? Not right now. I know you have much to say too, but may I continue?"
Him lightly cuffing my foreleg away was not a gesture I would find offensive, not from Sombra. He nodded, but emotion brewed so very strongly in his eyes, for he was ruminating.
"As soon as I knew you were a demon, I knew you were not like other stallions. You aren't grounded in what makes a pony a pony, and... a sliding spectrum of gender that other creatures fall under, you do not. And I have loved you no less for it."
There was a faint, thoughtful crinkle in Sombra's muzzle. "Is this about how I'm grouped in with transgender ponies?"
It was Sombra who came to me at times, confused as to why ponies kept referring to him as female, among other things when he went out, disguised and dressed up. I had to explain to him that these ponies thought he was a transgender mare, and were aiming to be respectful. Both were things Sombra was not used to. He only knew so much about the particular demographic of ponies because of my work with queer youth in dreams, and Cadance's work in matchmaking. Otherwise, he had little reason to acknowledge or look into these ponies as anything but just another demographic.
"...No, I do not think so. Maybe. Sombra, both you and I are queer, as separate as we are from everything that involves the culture. Your demisexuality and my asexuality count as as such, even if we don't count ourselves in."
Even if I've never come out to anypony other than him and Cadance, and how the same is true for him.
Sombra nodded in clear understanding despite how awkward I felt something about the atmosphere of our conversation was. Then, he laughed shortly and shrugged. "And here I can't help but love who I love. Though, I admit that having a name for it helps."
I couldn't say I was quite the same way. "Sombra... have you ever known any word that describes you beyond 'genderless'?"
"I can't say I have." He didn't ask a question, but his eyes gleamed with the question of what I might know.
So I told him: "Sombra, have you considered... that you might be agender?"
I watched how he grew serious again so quickly, and how reflective too. "Agender...? I..." I watched him swallow and grit his teeth. "I don't know... I'll have to think about it."
I smile calmly at Sombra and let my aura twirl one of his curls soothingly. "You have all the time in all worlds to think of anything, Sombra. I would hope that you spare me the wait of eternity for an answer."
"Luna?" Sombra asks when my toying is done, and there is a nervous flicker in his expression regardless of how steady his tone is.
"What is it, dear Som?"
"I don't think it would actually matter if I was agender and..."
"Som, it would matter to you. I'll love you always, regardless of who you are... but would you ever wish to be called anything different? To be addressed as female when you look so? Or as neither when you desire?"
"No, Luna, I'm male. Can't I continue?" The last three words hold the softest of growls.
"I apologize-"
"You don't need to," he says more levelly. The look he gives me next is direct and honest, an indicator that now he has something to say. "Do you hate it when I dress like this? I know I don't do it often, but it's been enough to lead to this."
And really, he doesn't do it often. Most of the time I am presented with Sombra clad in a masculine manner.
"There's nothing I could hate about you," I said, petting his mane and watching as Sombra flushed slightly. "Nothing," I repeat in a murmur, withdrawing my hoof.
Though we may sit apart, Sombra's forehoof finds mine and rests atop it now that my fidgeting is done.
I think I can continue more clearly now.
"You look beautiful, Sombra." I smiled when I saw how Sombra finally give a tiny smile, followed by a low, delighted trill.
There was still some color in his cheeks, too.
"And you know what, Sombra?" I ask him, running the barest touch of telekinesis on the fuzzy edge of his ear. "You always look beautiful, and I thought that me saying I didn't understand this would make you feel less beautiful."
Right when I need it, Sombra wraps a foreleg around my withers for support and pulls me close to him. "We could have talked about this sooner. I can look good in anything, if it really was a problem, and you matter more than any clothes."
"I know, and I really am sorry, Som. But you don't feel less pretty, do you?"
"Tartarus no. If even you think I'm gorgeous, what's the real problem?"
"I... I don't like the feeling of lipstick against my coat or lips, and I knew that telling you would upset you," I blurt. "That is one thing."
I watch Sombra's expression darken. "I'm far more upset that I have been putting you through something you aren't comfortable with."
The silence weighing atop us is suffocating.
"Luna?" Sombra asks, voice low.
The comforting presence of his foreleg now feels like a terrible yoke I cannot free myself from, and he's only pulled me closer to him.
Is it because he's upset?
"Yes, Sombra?"
"What would the rest be?"
Taking one deep breath, I found the words I must say. "I find your glamour to be confusing, though you've explained it to me before. I still feel like when I stumbled across you in your red dress because I have not stopped stumbling through my thoughts on this. As beautiful as you are, I don't know this part of you. I have helped you to find clothes you like, to do your mane, and work to understanding and embracing this because I love you. Instead, I don't think I came any closer."
I paused to look at Sombra, who eyed the grass rather forlornly. Before he could notice, I leaned close to his chest. His off-wither top allowed me to carefully tuck my head near his fluffy chest and to tuck my crest under his chin, nudging him a so a few times to comfort him before retreating to my previous position.
I was able to get a few faint rumbles out of him, the worn purr an acknowledgement of some level of emotional comfort.
"May I continue?"
Sombra nodded, then adjusted himself so that his head rested on my wither. I wanted to tell him that the style he did so carefully would now be disheveled now, and that he need not gravitate to me if he was upset with me. I was unable to find those words, and I knew Sombra didn't care. More importantly, I knew that if Sombra did not care, little could change his mind. Thus, the pleas to liberate my wither would not be heeded.
I sat still while he got comfortable, wishing that he had soft purrs, dry jokes, and inquisitive remarks to offer. The absence of these things were telling enough to how he was feeling.
He did not look to be in the mood to have his mane teased either, though I would have liked to play with his curls.
"When I think of you, some of what comes to mind is how handsome you are. I know most ponies say otherwise, but they have very poor judgement. I think of you as a very rugged, roguish, and... very, very dashing, in looks and heart alike."
I concentrated on the great mountains in the horizon to calm myself, finding my thoughts steadied by this. Sombra was the only stallion I had ever thought truly handsome and the sole one I have loved.
Truthfully, Sombra may look wonderful, but his personality was more handsome than the face he was so proud of.
"Sombra, I think of you as a stallion, not because you inherently are one, but because you make an effort to say that is who you are. What was I supposed to think when..." I stopped, and bit my lip. "What was I supposed to think when I learned you you enjoyed expressing yourself like a mare too? I know you are a diva, but this was a lot for me to try and piece together."
"Luna, this is more of a hobby for me than anything... and sometimes it feels right. You know I don't really understand the standards for any of these clothes. Don't get me wrong, I like to go out like this sometimes, and it can be too spectacular not to flaunt. I..."
"When you showed me that news article, you were going to tell me you wanted to participate in drag shows, weren't you?"
I can feel Sombra shift against my wither. "...I would. I know you don't understand it, but this is something that I feel strongly about and is bound to be misunderstood in ways like your dress and behavior was in the Tribal Era. I want you to understand this, and why there are times when I want to dress like this and have everypony get to hear my jokes and see me as I am, though they'll never really know me. I have a change to engage in something I find unusually interesting that caters to some of what I like to indulge in. I don't want to pass up on this."
I comb my magic through his mane quietly, wanting him to accept the affection while my stomach turns over on itself.
"Was this your piece then, dear Som?"
There was a thoughtful pause before he said, "I'm not sure you realize how badly I want you to understand this."
Sombra and I find ourselves in a rare time where the silence between us is awkward.
"Sombra?" I asked eventually, my voice coming out shyer than I had anticipated.
"What?" he replies, and I sense a kernel of irritation buried deep in his tone.
I don't know if he would be grateful to hear an apology, or if it would make my stomach feel any less ill.
"...W-What would your stage name be?"
I read the silence that follows as more of a stunned one, as Sombra sits right up and looks at me. Even without looking directly at him, I can feel his gaze looking over me.
"Cadance suggested 'Rhinestone Eyes'. I couldn't come up with anything better, and it does have a ring to it, don't you think?"
I look at Sombra, taking in his slightly rumpled skirt and the new untidy element to his mane. I think of the vivid look in his eyes, and the sunglasses he likes to wear. They have tiny ruby rhinestones in the frames that accentuate his eyes and gleam alongside them. I recall how he told me he didn't want expensive ones with real ruby shards, for it would be so dreadful if he ended up losing those. Instead, he go sharp, sleek shades that Cadance had declared suitably 'retro' or some similar thing.
"I like it," I admit with a whisper so unlike how strong I want to sound. Even Sombra notes this cursed, rare meekness and lowers his ears a bit more, knowing that I sound so much stronger when all is well.
"Luna, is there something else you need to tell me?" Now Sombra's tone was free of extremes. There was no apparent softness or concern, nor was there any gruffness or anger. His question was level and cool.
But his word choice made me feel dizzy. Sombra was one who knew life without luxury and that the needs of everypony were really quite pragmatic. He was commanding with others, but never about what they needed. Such things were not of primary importance like what he wanted somepony to do.
This doubled as one of the most honest courtesies, and one I could say that I was actually grateful for. He never told me about what I needed unless it was obvious or things seemed dire. I didn't need to tell him what was on my mind at all times. I didn't need to move. I didn't need to do this or that, and so on.
"I..."
Just tell him.
"I'm not attracted to you."
Sombra arches one eyebrow, and there is a boost of sassiness in the gesture because of the touch of makeup he has on. "Haven't we been over this? There's never been a problem with you not being sexually attracted to me."
"No, no... it isn't that. Som, when you wear these things, you are pretty. You... you just are not..."
There was that worry starting to spark in his eyes again, even if he remained unflinching and his eyebrow was still arched, it was unmistakable. How could I say such a thing to him? I was tormenting him, wasn't I?
"I'm not what, Luna?"
"You don't feel pretty to me. I look at you and know you are the one I love, but I think I hate myself for not seeing you in any way that feels as passionately as before. You're still you... but you feel like a mare too... a-and Som, I don't think I like mares."
Sombra's expression softens and his horn glows. A moment later, he's conjured a small scrap of fabric that he presses to my face to dry the tears that have started rolling down my muzzle.
"Well, Luna, I suppose one of us was going to wind up being straighter than the other."
When I am able to shake off a few low sob-shudders, I try and force a question past the swollen feeling in my throat. "...Y-You aren't mad at me?" I sputter, and dare to reach for one of his hooves.
In the back of my mind, I marveled at how steady his hoof was as he slipped it into mine.
"No," he mumbles. I know he means it, but he says it so that I know there's a lot on his mind.
"Som?" I ask, trying to focus on the clouds to help me relax. When all my tears were dried, I passed the cloth back to Sombra.
"Yes?"
"I like stallions."
"I can tell."
For that, I jabbed Som in the wither and was rewarded with a flat stare.
"Mares are different." I gave a heaving, frustrated sigh and looked down at my forehooves. In response to my mental exhaustion, my mane flowed languidly. "So, so different."
"What I've been doing has been making you uncomfortable, then?"
"...It was really just the lipstick. I know that I shall get the rest, in time. Lipstick just feels... slimy. I feel it and think of contact with the lips of the most lush, delicate, girlish little mare. And these mares that prance unwanted into my mind and the sensation are typical girly creatures, with such things embodied by most of the Element Bearers, yes? A regular cast of Fluttershys, Pinkamena Pies, Miss Rarities, and Twilight Sparkles. I feel that in lipstick... and yes, Som, that is what made me uncomfortable. I appear to have a stars-forsaken lipstick phobia of some sort."
To my surprise, he chuckles. "I won't wear it as much, then."
I managed to offer a murmured 'thank you'.
I heard Sombra sigh in relief, but before I could look at him, I felt a soothing scratch behind one of my ears. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the glow of Sombra's horn.
With a comforting gesture, the weight on both of us felt lifted.
"Luna?"
"Yes?"
"If I were a mare, would that be a problem for you?"
My heartbeat echoes in my ears. "Had you been physically a mare instead of a stallion, I would still love you. If you felt you were a mare in a body not right for you, I would still love you, and though you might be neither and nothing in your mind... I feel the same."
Sombra made a small mur in the back of his throat to acknowledge my words. "What is it that you would like in a mare? Maybe in the future, many ages from now, I would be interested in applying for the position of your marefriend."
"Oh, much that one would find in a stallion, I would think. Strength, courage, independence, introspection, wit, the ability to assert one's beliefs, masculinity-"
"Masculinity?" Sombra repeats slyly. "I think I understand now."
"Y-You do?" I look at him, and see how his eyes meet mine. There is the hint of a relaxed smile on his face.
"I wouldn't be saying that if it weren't true. You like stallions."
"Oh, absolutely! I care not whether a stallion is masculine, feminine, or born in such a way he had no say... it's like how you said, no? You love who you love, regardless of what they are?"
"I would think so," he replies, flicking at one of my ears with a brief display of aura.
"For me, that is what I know what I feel with stallions. You, however, are the most special, and far superior than of any mere guard who gets a moment of slight acknowledgment within my thoughts as pleasant-looking."
Sombra lets out a rumbly trill and leans forward to accept a kiss on the cheek. "And with mares?"
"I like tough mares. Mares like stallions. Not gentle, cute, and... ah, 'dorky' mares. I think that is how it is said? Androgynous ponies are darlings, and especially so with mares. Tomcolts are truly cute, hm?"
A wide smirk spread across Sombra's face. "Of course I would know," he said all too playfully, "I have the most terrible little imp to braid my mane."
I dodge another ear flick and end up getting prodded sharply in my side with his forehoof. Because of this, I wind up laughing deeply and uncontrollably, and all tension melts away. With all the worry gone from his face, it is so obvious that Sombra's crooked half-smile is the same as ever, and his eyes are just as warm as I know them to be, with or without skillfully applied mascara.
I can't pretend to know anything about what I'm doing other than trying to adjust to this part of Sombra, but I think I'm doing it much better than before. I certainly feel a bit giddier about things, and even if it doesn't last, Sombra's here.
Sombra's here and we have the whole day ahead of us for anything to happen. I have one problem solved, but of course that doesn't last.
I've quickly found myself in quite the dire straits, with Sombra hugging me almost desperately with all his might before I can recover from what I had suggested:
That maybe it was time Rhinestone Eyes was gifted their first show-dress.
Sometimes, I think Sombra had two of everything. His pocket realm home had two toothbrushes in a cup, one was there just for me. He always had just enough dishes for the two of us. There were always more than enough blankets to spare. He cooked enough to share.
I rarely had to ask.
He had plenty of time for me when I was upset, and just as much when I was joyous. There was an extra cloak around for when I was cold. He had an abundance of scarves stashed around, all good, warm things of solid colors or basic patterns. Each was knitted or hoof-made by somepony, at the least, and they were always at hoof when Sombra needed them for trips or thought I was cold.
Sometimes, it was I who managed to have the needed double. I gifted him a key to my tower, a few extras of books I had no need for, and an extra bunch of flowers from the many castle gardens. As a result, we discovered that some of the flowers I savored as snacks were ones he enjoyed too. I was always sure to bring him more of the blossoms he found tastiest. (When overcome by giddiness, I would let him try and stack them on my tongue.)
For all my gifts and trinkets, it was still Sombra who had the practical stash. As a princess, I was never short on things to call my own, but Sombra was entirely self-made.
I was certain he obtained things the way he did on purpose. Why select just one curry comb when he knows that two will be enough for the both of us? I stay with him enough that they are quietly needed. Every one of his gifts are appreciated.
Often, I let him know by planting a kiss on his cheek. Once. Twice, for I can not think of a more appropriate amount to go with two very important words: thank you.
one thing i adore more than most things in my cherished life is to stick out my tongue when the rain falls
they splash cool and heavy with a great big plop and a burst of sky-flavor fresh and cool in my mouth
in them i taste not the city above where they have been made or the wilds they have known i know the mountains and paradise with hints of far-away places in each drop
my tip: savor them alone for then rain's flavor is best when your laughter weaves with thunder any hooves can fly with a leap meant to catch the sweet taste of rain
listen if you wish to taste more then out into my night please run be fleet on your hooves and quiet in the darkness because the rain will dance louder stick your tongue out during any night's storm without a single word you shall know the flavor of stars
best when had alone is any kind of rain but if there is someony special who makes you the eye of every storm so you can share the world's center together then give them the rain for nopony else
with sombra i can share every storm each calm after the chill of flavor like no other and rain-flavored kisses and in them i taste everything
Anything that tears me away Starswirl and the Sirens had better be worth my time. The light on my horn flared with my alerted senses, shining a reddish tint through my pocket realm. Around me, makeshift äerint book-trees that boasted my collection were the most notable feature observable by hornlight. I narrowed my eyes in the direction of one of the 'branches'. Had one of the books been shifted? Or had one fallen?
That could've been the sound I heard. The faint thump still played in my mind, and my ears were still perked forward, anticipating more.
Magic flowed to my horn, morphing the hornlight to a different magic. Shimmering in the grasp of my telekinesis was the hilt of a sword, materializing from where I had leaned it against a box. Virtue's pale blade reflected my aura and aided in letting me see in the near-darkness.
I likely wouldn't need to use the blade, habit was just habit.
I felt safer with it.
I knew I wouldn't need it when the familiar enrapturing presence prickles along my coat. Blue-green pulsed faintly through the gray of my domain, weaving through the very fabric of this realm.
In tumbled Luna, tiara askew.
I released the spell I had on Virtue, dissolving it from my grip and letting it return to where it had rested. A trill rumbled in my throat as my last shred of suspicion faded. Only Luna and I had access to this realm. Despite that, I was prone to vigilance... and paranoia.
"I see you're finally back." A werelight sparked to life on my horn again, flaring bold and crimson.
Luna rubbed at her eyes, blinking at my werelight. In the glow, I saw that she looked weary; her usually bright, curious eyes were hazy.
I received a mumble that sounded like it could've been a 'Hello, Sombra' before she rose. The gesture was quick and quiet, but without any of her usual fluidity. Before I could say anything else, she placed a kiss on my cheek.
"Did something happen in Maretonia?"
Luna shook her head 'no' and slide her cheek down my neck in an exhausted, languid gesture before nuzzling into my wither. I flicked my gaze to observing how her mane flowed sluggishly just below my muzzle. "You're just tired, then?"
I could try and guess why now, or I could let her rest and ask her when she woke up. Knowing how much my lovely ace of spades enjoyed travel, the trip itself was unlikely to be what had her like this.
I leaned into the awkward embrace we were maintaining as much as I could without disturbing her. The sight of her, the feeling of her magic, and how her coat was so warm against mine were downright blissful after not seeing her for two weeks.
"Did the conference at least go well?"
"Bed," Luna mumbled, and I could feel the pout in her voice.
I chuckled and nuzzled into her mane, which flowed around my cheek, no doubt Luna's worn effort to tease me with any amount of affection. "Bed it is."
With one wing draped across my back, she minds her long stride enough that I don't have to do anything to guide her beyond helping her mind her direction. She may be the one who can see in the dark, but right now she certainly didn't care enough to do anything but follow along and keep trying to snooze in my mane.
She has the advantage of superior height - if not by much. I have the advantage of being coherent enough to know where we're going.
Once we're close enough to the mattress I have, she leaps forward and flops onto it, utilizing one last moment of agility for the sole sake of catapulting into the books I had hidden among the quilts there.
I had books stashed and stacked just about everywhere in here, since it was part of the hazard of having an always-expanding library resorting to impulsive self-education. I was lucky enough that Luna hadn't disturbed my usual tangle of blankets where I had been reading.
"Thank you for that." After rolling my eyes, I took my place next to her. As soon as I was comfortably lying on my stomach, one large blue wing smacked me right in the face, disrupting my horn's light.
"Myurp! Myurp!"
Among the blankets, Luna's giggles were muffled by how she was content to keep lie face down, oblivious to the full extent of my protests to her relentless aggression. In retaliation, I pull at a lock of her mane teasingly.
"Now that you've so unjustly attacked me, will you surrender the reason you're so drained?"
The stifled sounds of a hum of consideration drifted up from the blankets. As a response, I reached to her and closed the space between us by stroking her mane with my hoof. Getting to wind my hoof through her cascading mane always relaxed me and gave me a chance to return the happiness I felt when she pet mine. Feeling how she loosened up below my hoof elicited a purr from me and the steady sound of it coaxed a response from her.
"The dreams of ponies and all the company I had to keep solely for the purpose of politics in Maretonia was tiring. How Tia doesn't wish to throw up after having such interactions border on leeching off of her is... puzzling, to say the least. The Duchess Ice Mirror throws too big, too grand of parties that are difficult not to get pushed into. Too much smiling and chatter of unimportant things."
I scratch behind her ear and move my foreleg down to give her wither a squeeze of sympathy. As much as I detest her, I'm glad to hear that her mood wasn't from arguing with her sister. Long-distance teleportation, fussing over transportation, and the general jumble conferences are hardly desirable ways to spend time to me too.
"Did you have a bad encounter dream-walking?"
I may have an unusual amount of control over my own dreams, but that never stopped me from wanting to be able to dreamwalk with Luna. She came to me with an array of stories she never shared with anypony else about her experiences and the ponies she counseled, sometimes wanting my input on issues when her own knowledge was exhausted or Luna's doubts stuck to the rest of her thoughts.
"No, I was with Gleaming Tide again. Every night. For two weeks. She still is struggling to listen to me."
My hoof moves through Luna's mane again, continuing the long, steady strokes. I shift my magic so that telekinesis buds alongside my horn's light and reach out, probing my various belongings for a mane-brush.
"Was it anything specific this time?" I produce the blue brush I keep around just for when she stays over and pull it through her mane with expert strokes. Every pony that she visits, Luna brings up with me at least once. Any one of her subjects that she visits on a regular basis is better known to me. The particular name she mentioned was a filly she had been keeping up with for three months since the first dream.
I've heard about each one. I'm not sure that 'filly' is the best word for a young hippogriff, either. Experience with that particular hybrid species isn't one I have much of, and my knowledge is meager and second-hoof. I do have experience in being an outcast in ways Luna doesn't, as much as we've been a merry couple of misfits.
"I don't think she's eating enough."
I think back to what Luna has told me about this particular kid before. She's a hippogriff filly living in Fillydelphia with her pony father. Luna told me that she was bullied too much at flight camp to stay and thinks that her griffon hindquarters make her look fat. Her diet was specialized not just due to her species, but allergies that Luna says cause her great grief and greater anxiety.
This is one of the cases Luna has that I'm not sure of how specialized my advice can be. "Did she say why? The kid's got a number of reasons to why she might not be. Does she want somepony to see this?"
"Ty says she hasn't been doing so for long, and she certainly doesn't appear to have skipped more than a few days. Oh Som, she just gets sick so easily that I'm worried she'll really be hurt, no matter how long she has been putting herself through this. Body image is plaguing her again, and so deeply is she troubled by these dark roots."
I pulled the brush through her mane again, frowning in thought. "If she isn't sick now, she will be soon. I'm sure it's been... two, maybe three days without food by the sound of it? Did she say anything about how she's been hiding it? That's usually what someone with these inclinations does."
"I'm afraid she didn't admit to much else." Ever since she began her story, Luna has adjusted herself so that her forelegs are folded under her head, though she still lies flat. "Her father does not dine with her and has been working more. I think she simply lies about eating dinner."
"She's still picked on at her new school, isn't she?"
"Not nearly as much. Overall, it has been an improvement. She just feels so alone. Fillydelphia is a city with a mostly earth pony presence. I do not think her father fully realizes that his home town may not welcome his daughter."
Few griffons and fewer hippogriffs can be found the farther east you go in Equestria, save for areas right near Griffonstone. I try to avoid griffons and their frequent hunting. That hasn't stopped me from encountering at least a few, just never in Fillydelphia. There might not even be any there, which is something that would be doubly unfortunate for this filly.
"Luna, maybe you shouldn't be the one to solve this."
"Som!" Luna protested, squirming. "I cannot leave Ty to harm herself-"
I keep running the brush through her mane as best as I can despite her sudden movement. "I never said you would. I think you should pass this on to somepony who has more access to her if she won't listen to you in her next dream."
"But Som-"
"Luna, there's others who are going to be more immediately receptive to your aid, and whose dreams will call to you even when you're in hers."
"Som, I know-"
"You're exhausted." I bopped her on the head with the brush's handle and Luna squeaked. I'm not one to interrupt her, and I really don't feel very good about doing it. Luna just needs to hear this.
Everypony else lauds Celestia for engaging in traditional politicking like it's the hardest thing in the world, but nopony else really thinks about what Luna deals with in dreamwalking. As amazing as Luna is at this, I still want to help her, no matter how little ability I have to engage with her subjects the way she does.
By night, she prods through the deepest parts of everypony's minds, uncovering crimes thought buried, traumas, and more than just fillies and colts having problems with cutie marks and siblings. Luna is talking ponies out of throwing themselves of a bridge in the epicenter of their despair; Celestia is hosting dances. Is it any surprise that I find this split outrageous?
As carefully as I can, I use my magic to work through her feathers. The way she is breathing is causing her sides to shake with frustration and the choice that I know is weighing on her. "I cannot abandon Ty."
"You won't." I don't care how many similar conversations we've had, I just want to steer Luna in the right direction. I lean down and nuzzle her, hoping that even if she's exuding gloom on the outside, she might feel comforted. "Writing somepony a royal letter alerting them of an emergency isn't abandoning her. Tartarus, it doesn't even have to be a letter."
Luna whimpers. I try to purr and rest my head on the base of her neck, near her withers. Her mane doesn't hit me as much and I rub my cheek against her. "Grant me this, Luna. Not for me. For the both of us. I'll help in any way I can."
One of my hooves tries to tease at her feathers again. Usually, I would be tempted to start preening them. Luna enjoys it whenever I surprise her with that. I just don't think she is going to want her wings touched so intimately when she's upset like this. Letting my purr fade, I work on nibbling at her crest and mane instead.
As time passes, I get a few whickers for my efforts. Feathers brush against me as a gentle thank you.
"Why don't you sleep on it?" I suggest, headbutting her. Luna has always been my protector and a source of strength for me as much as she's confided that I am one to her. Moments like this are the ones when I know that she wants me to protect her too. I've always been used to having her be the one to protect me, to suggest I be the one to get rest, that I be guided from whatever has seized my emotions...
Getting to nuzzle her and see her again is a reminder that I miss this. I do enjoy getting the chance to be supportive and indulge in be the protector too. I pull myself closer to her and purr loudly.
"I love you, Luna."
Under me, I feel Luna twitch and know she expected me to say something different. "Som...?"
"You flew all the way up here just to see me and sleep. Now that you've seen me, I think you know what you should do."
We've always taken care of one another. Rarely does Luna pass up on the chance to remind me that I'm her emotional support boyfriend and I always want to show her that I'll be here for her.
"Fine," Luna huffs, squeaking again when I nip her withers lightly. "Som!"
"Yes?" I feed the light on my horn again, hiding my smirk within the safe confines of her mane, along with most of my face.
"We still have to discuss this."
"After you get some rest, we can talk about anything." Purring deeply, I nuzzle her again. This time, I target the spot where I nipped her. No mark is there because I am careful to never leave one. It'd be too much for me, to really bite somepony. Ear nibbles have always been superior.
"...I ...alright, Som."
We shift, reading each other's mutual want clearly so that we don't end up fumbling or crashing into one another to claim a kiss.
