History isn't always what it seems. The Fall of the Crystal Empire was very, very different from what the ancient books say....
History is a funny thing--so easily twisted to fit the one pony's opinion, and then that opinion can become widespread, now viewed as unchangeable fact. The Crystal Empire is one prime example of that. It is very different from what everypony thinks to this day...
Outside, the moon of the Lunar Princess beams down on a field of fresh, thick snow, casting navy shadows over the pristine white. The air is clear and cold, carrying the distant scent of pine as well as the more dominant scent of frozen water. The dark silhouettes of trees dot the horizon, spots of black against the backdrop of velvety blue sky. Tiny speckles of diamond-like stars flicker in and out of sight—first masked by a stretch of wispy gray clouds, then clearly visible against the darkness.
And in the middle of all this serene beauty stands a pony.
She exhales, watching the cloud of her steamy breath evaporate into the cold air. Her ears twitch beneath the thick, fur-lined hoof of her warm cloak, picking up the muted babble of voices ahead. Her hooves crunch into the deep snow and she bites back a shiver as the cold seeps into her unprotected lower legs.
She left the village behind her not long before sundown—it has only been a few hours since then. Some of the friendlier locals told her of an inn where she could stay, a ways down the road, and she assumes that’s the source of the noise she hears.
After a few minutes of steady trotting her suspicions are proven correct. The black silhouette of a tall, squat building appears, windows glowing with golden light. Dark shapes of bodies can be seen moving beyond those windows, even from here can the pony detect conversation and song.
She gives a cry of happiness, breaking into a run. After getting caught in the evening’s earlier snowstorm, she’s quite ready to be out of the cold—and she’s never seen anything quite as inviting as those inn lights.
When she arrives in the courtyard, she slows down, reigning in her gallop to a trot. The space before the building is strewn with discarded wagons and other vehicles, blankets thrown carelessly over the objects to keep out the snow. Scraggly bushes surround the perimeter, their leafless silhouettes sharp and black.
The pony’s hooves make clopping noises on the hard-paved path that leads to the door, leaving wet patches on the stone. Somepony had obviously swept the snow off it earlier, leaving the frozen substance piled along the path.
Once she’s directly outside the inn, the babble seems even louder. She takes a deep breath, waiting for her limbs to stop trembling, composing herself after her mad dash to reach the warmth. After she feels ready, she reaches out a hoof, pushing open the wooden door.
A wave of heat and sound washes over her. Though the slew of new sensations are somewhat jarring, a slightly bewildered smile crosses her face and she closes her eyes to help process it. The leftover snow clinging to her coat melts away, dripping off in steady streams. She trots in.
The inside of the building is packed and noisy. The floor is crowded with rickety wooden tables, most of them surrounded by ponies. The babble of talk is all that can be heard, with strains of some bard’s warbling music from one corner. The air smells like hot, wet bodies, woven around the deep, earthy smell of some kind of stew. The pony can also detect an undercurrent of some kind of tang…unmistakably alcohol.
The pony lets the door swing closed behind her, shaking out her dripping hooves. She forces her way through the crowd to an empty table—unfortunately, one near the bards.
She winces, muzzle wrinkling with distaste as their grating music drills into her skull.
“Anything I can get for you, hun?” A large, middle-aged mare appears from the crowd, squeezing over to the table. Her tan-colored face is creased with age, graying brown mane pulled up into a tight bun. A stained, spotted apron encases the majority of her substantial girth, just barely blocking her cutie mark—all the pony can see is the edge of a pot and a spoon.
The pony takes a moment to appreciate the mare’s skill—there's a tray of empty wooden tankards balanced perfectly on her hoof, not a single one has tipped over, even with the jostling of the crowd.
“Just a bowl of stew, please,” the pony’s voice is soft and quiet.
“You got that.” The mare sets down the tray she’s carrying, pulling a crumpled notepad and short, chipped pencil from a pocket on her apron. She balances the notepad on her hoof, clenching her teeth down on the chewed-up eraser of the pencil. “Anything else?”
“No thank you.” The pony shakes her head. The matron gives a nod, scribbling down the order, then grabs the tray again and trots off.
The pony gives a barely-perceptible sigh, glancing around her. Nopony has registered her presence yet, something she’s grateful for. The nearest tables are engaged in intense conversation and she only catches snatches of it--
“And then I said: ‘watch where ya goin’, ya prancing pipsqueak!’ The lil’ guy didn’t seem to like that, ‘cause he said—”
“I can’t believe the price of carrots these days. Honestly, you’d think there’s a famine or something—”
“Hey, did you hear the news? Old Farmer Hay Bale’s barn burned down the other day—!”
The pony’s ears twitch in annoyance. She wishes the bards would stop singing.
“Hello weary traveler.~”
Her head jerks up in surprise and she stares, wide-eyed, at the bard who addressed her. She bites back the incredulous laugh trying to force its way through her lips—he looks ridiculous. From the floppy feathered cap perched on his curly, purple mane; right down to the outlandish, puffy-sleeved shirt he wears. Even the color palette of his outfit was strange—vibrant shades of red and green that made him look like a Hearth’s Warming tree.
“Yes?” she says politely, eyeing the odd-looking instrument perched in his hooves—same as the one emblazoned on his flank.
“You strike me an admirer…of ancient lore!”
Now her ears perked up in interest—she was, in fact, an admirer of ancient lore. She was on a journey for it, in fact.
“With a penchant I see…for old history…as you’ve never heard it before.~”
“Very much so.” The pony leans forwards, excited and invested. “But what would you know that I haven’t already read?” Here the bard winks, readjusting his grip on the instrument.
“It’s a familiar tale.~” He sings. “Of a once mighty king! But the story you know…goes much deeper, so…sit back as I tell you and see~.”
“Quick Strings!”
Both ponies jump as a scolding voice rings through the air.
“What have I told you about annoying the customers?” The matron pushes her way back through the crowd, a scowl on her face. Here the bard, Quick Strings, steps back and sweeps into a bow.
“Forgive me, madam,” he says, his voice changing from the warble of his song to a high-pitched, polite tone of a colt. “I am merely sharing my tale with a fellow history lover.” The pony is surprised at how much younger he sounds without the vibrato in his voice.
“Do not fret over his manner,” she assured the matron. “I am interested in his story.”Quick Strings shoots her a wink and a thankful grin.
“Well…” The mare frowns reluctantly, placing a steaming bowl of carrot and mushroom stew before the pony. The pony in question inhales deeply, breathing in the savory smells. Her stomach gives a growl.
Finally, the matron sighs.
“Very well," she says, giving in. “But if she gets tired of you, back away!” Quick Strings give a quick nod, a barely-concealed grin on his face.
“You enjoy your meal, hun. If he gets annoying, you come find me.” The mare turns, trotting away.
“Now.” A spoon levitates upwards, supported by the turquoise glow of the pony’s magic. “Relay to me your tale.”
Quick Strings nods, striking a chord on his instrument and bursting into song.
The Crystal Empire was by far one of the brightest places Celestia had ever been in.
Her sun had never shone so extravagantly, throwing down it’s rays like they were rain from the newly-founded Cloudsdale. Even the grass shimmered like a precious stone, deep emerald beneath the sun’s light.
In the distance, the spiraling crystal towers of a castle refracted iridescent beams of light in all colors of the spectrum. From where she was, Celestia could faintly see a bustling city sprawled around it’s feet, flashing and sparkling in ways that only a gemstone could. White clouds faintly streaked the sapphire sky, glowing almost impossibly bright in the sun—a stark contrast to the frozen wasteland Celestia and her sister had just arrived from.
Indeed, this place seemed nearly a paradise in comparison.
Outside of the Empire’s protective shield, there had been a raging tempest of snow and ice. Traveling through the air had become too hazardous, forcing the princesses and their squadron of royal guards to the ground. Luna had been convinced that they would freeze to death before reaching safety, in spite of the heavy, fur-lined cloaks worn by guards and royals alike. But that was merely Luna being over dramatic—now that they’d passed through the magical shield, they were perfectly fine.
The paved stone road was warm and smooth beneath Celestia’s hooves—she’d taken off her heavy, warm boots in order to change to lighter, more decorative finery. But now that she was freed of her weighty clothing, she couldn’t resist spreading her wings, soaking in the warmth of her lovely sun.
“Sister, should we not begin to move forwards?” Her fellow princess, Luna, pranced restlessly by her side. The Unicorn attempting to neaten Luna’s disheveled mane darted back, seconds before her horn would have thwacked into his unprotected muzzle. Celestia gave the servant an apologetic smile, stepping over to her sister.
“My dear Luna, I know you are anxious to be off.” She adopted a scolding tone, straightening her sister’s crooked crown. “But kindly refrain from acting like such a young foal. This is a great moment in history—a step forwards in expanding our reign, and I should prefer it if this event goes smoothly.”
Luna let out a gusty sigh, slumping over. She let her head droop, lowering it to a point where it almost scraped against the stony ground. Her dusty blue mane fell over her face, and her crown was knocked askew yet again.
“Try to retain some decorum.” Celestia resisted the urge to groan. Her sister could be a real hoofful sometimes.
An accompanying servant stepped forwards, bringing out Celestia’s decorative shoes. They were made of solid metal, pale gold in color, beaten thinly into graceful swirls. They were stiff, and the most uncomfortable thing Celestia had ever felt.
But, they were proper in the gravity of this moment. She had to wear them.
The shoes slid cleanly onto her hooves, reaching halfway up her lower legs. The thin edges rubbed against her skin, and Celestia could tell she’d have blisters by the end of the day. For a second, she almost envied Luna’s small, crystal-cut hoofwear, and how little of her hoof they covered.
A brush tugged through Celestia long, wavy pink mane, pulling it back into the elaborate coiffure it had been in before they’d began the journey. She wished all the preparation they’d done before hadn’t gotten blown about and almost completely ruined in the storm—if they didn’t have to stop and fix it, they’d be at the castle by now, discussing what came next.
Celestia didn’t like to postpone important things.
“Your highness, we are now ready to move forwards.” The captain of the guards that had accompanied them approached Celestia, giving a nod down the road. The Sun Princess let out a breath of relief, rearranging her wings and straightening her royal regalia for one last time.
She worked the muscles in her face for a second, then let them fall into she desperately hoped was a regal, gracious smile.
That expression would not drop till night fell, and she was alone.
In stark contrast to her sister, Luna jerked her head upwards, knocking her crown askew, unbridled excitement clear on her face. Celestia’s horn lit up with shimmering gold, readjusting the crown, and she bit back another sigh.
“Come.” She said, stepping onto the waiting chariot next to them. Water dripped from the dashboard, clear evidence of ice that had melted upon entry into the warmth of the sun. “Let us move on.”
Luna joined her, looking stiff and uncomfortable in all her finery.
The two Pegasi hitched to the chariot nodded, digging their hooves into the ground as surged forwards. Eventually, they gained enough momentum and began beating their wings, pulling the chariot off the ground. The rest of the Pegasi followed them into the air, but the Unicorns and Earth Ponies remained on the ground, following the vehicle from below.
Celestia winced as a breeze picked up, gusting past her face. She hoped it wouldn’t dishevel her mane too much.
“Luna!” She gasped, scandalized as her sister hung over the edge of the chariot. “Have some shame!” Luna pouted, reluctantly pulling back. Celestia bit back a groan—not the first she’d been tempted to release today, and certainly not the last.
Though at the age of approximately two-hundred—though, it was closer to eighteen in Alicorn years—her sister still acted like a young, mindless foal at times.
The ground below sped past, and the single, wide road changed to many—all branching out amidst the outskirts of the city. For now, the buildings were few and far between, but all shimmered with the pallor of crystal. The tall spires of the castle grew ever closer, till they loomed above the princesses and their chariot—impossibly tall, seeming to scrape against the dome of sky.
A clamor of celebration filled the air, startling the two monarchs.
Luna whirled to the side, putting her legs up over the edge of the chariot once again. Celestia was far too dignified to do such a foalish thing, so she craned her neck to see over the side of the vehicle…which made her look something like a short, white giraffe.
The streets below were filled with ponies, ponies whose coats glittered like the buildings they were surrounded by. They were cheering, waving the Equestrian flag and tossing hooffuls of multi-colored confetti into the air. All heads were angled upwards, watching the princess and their entourage soar above.
The crowds thickened, to the point where Celestia’s and Luna’s guard force on the ground could no longer fight through the surging mass of ponies. They were waylaid, but the chariot moved on, leaving them far behind.
In spite of her calm facade, a slight tremor of unease ran over Celestia’s spine. She hadn’t expected such a huge celebration—they were only entering the Empire, after all.
The chariot touched down in front of the palace. The princesses and Pegasi of their guard were greeted by a line of crystalline guards, all of whom were standing at attention, bordering a path that stretched from a door a few feet away.
A wizened Earth Pony stallion appeared from next to the door, clearing his throat. It was obvious he was quite old—his pale brown coat hung off him, dull and cloudy instead of brightly shining like the ponies’ in the crowd. His face was deeply lined, and the few strands of faded blue mane that still clung to his skull were stringy, streaked with dusty white.
“Now presenting, hi—” Here the old stallion broke into a fit of coughing, dropping the scroll he was carrying in his hoof. One of the guards stepped forwards, reaching out a hoof to help him, but he waved the pony away. After a second he straightened up, clearing his throat.
“Now presenting, his most Royal Majesty, King Sombra of the Crystal Empire!” He managed to creak out, voice quickly dissolving into another cough. He hobbled away as a trumpet fanfare filled the air, though Celestia couldn’t tell from where it came.
Then the door flew open, and King Sombra himself appeared.
He had a dark gray coat and slick black mane, both of which were colors unnatural for a Crystal Pony. His horn was curved back, the dark gray fading to a scarlet. His eyes were deep crimson—not blood-red, but rather the color of rose petals and sunsets. Dull silver armor encased his neck, and a regal scarlet cloak swept over his back, trimmed with white fur.
“Welcome, your highnesses!” King Sombra strutted the length of the carpet, extending a hoof as if to indicate the city around him. “Welcome, my dears!”
Though she kept her face impassive, Celestia gave the tiniest, inward cough of amusement.
He’s trying to impress us.
That’s what it was all about. The celebrating ponies, the dramatic entrance, the display of wealth…he just wished for his kingdom to make an impact on them.
It wasn’t as if they’d never seen him before. They’d talked many, many times—most through specifically enchanted objects, and once he’d even made the arduous journey up to Canterlot. But they’d never been to his domain.
Equestria could certainly use such a powerful and rich ally.
“Thank you for your most gracious welcome, mighty king.” Celestia lowered herself into the properly respectful bow—and beside her, she felt Luna do the same.
“Please rise.” The king sounded almost embarrassed. “I am not fit to have such divine beings bow before me…”
Divine?
I suppose that means he believes the rumors about Luna and I being gods—or perhaps he’s simply flattering us.
The Alicorn sisters were far from divine. Though their ancestry was murky, she knew for sure that at the most, they were only demigods. Descendants of some higher form.
But perhaps it is best for him to believe he deals with goddesses, for now.
“The pleasure is all ours, your majesty.” Celestia rose, giving him a smile.
“There is no need for such formality.” King Sombra gave a small laugh. “You may simply call me ‘Sombra’, if you so desire.”
So informal, so soon? Interesting move…and unexpected.
“Well then, if you insist…Sombra.” Celestia thought the word felt foreign and heavy on her tongue, but she kept her smile. “We must thank you again for your most wonderful and…unexpected welcome.”
“I suppose I did spring this all on you rather suddenly.” King Sombra admitted, clearly detecting the hesitation in her voice. Celestia bit her tongue. She should not have paused while speaking.
“Not at all!” She lied, forcing her smile wider. “We are as overjoyed as your kingdom for this union. But…mayhaps it is best if we take this conversation inside.”
“Yes…” King Sombra agreed, eyeing the noisy crowd surrounding them. “Perhaps it is.”
At some point behind them, the princesses’ servants and royal guard finally forced their way through the edge of the crowd, disheveled and weary.
Celestia stifled a sigh of relief. They could discuss this in the quiet of the palace, and have the whole ordeal settled soon.
She didn’t like to postpone important things. “Oh, no, please!”
Both monarchs were startled by the voice, and both looked to the pony who’d spoken. Luna shrunk back slightly, avoiding the gaze of both.
“I-I mean…” She stuttered. “We’ve only just arrived. The city seemed so beautiful from the air—I would so like to see it firsthoof…and the ponies do look so friendly—!” She glanced up, briefly met Sombra’s eye, then glanced down again with a blush on her cheeks.
“But if this business is more important…” She mumbled.
Celestia opened her mouth to declare that yes, it was more important than sightseeing. The city could certainly wait. This business could not.
“I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to see those streets firsthoof.” The king stepped towards her sister, a warm smile on his face. Luna raised her head, and her blushed darkened further.
Celestia began to wish there was a way to slap her sister and tell her to stop drooling and close her mouth…but without Sombra noticing.
“After all, the business can wait.” King Sombra offered his hoof to Luna. “And this city can not.”
Luna took the king’s offered hoof, a slow, shy smile spreading over her face. Her turquoise eyes were bright with stars, and her gaze was fixed on Sombra’s, clearly missing the frantic head shakes and mouthing of the word “no” from her sister.
King Sombra glanced back at Celestia, who instantly froze, forcing her face into a tight smile.
“Yes.” She said, her voice mechanical and transparent to her ears—but nopony else seemed to notice. “The business can wait…let us explore more of this beauteous kingdom first.
Luna let out a high-pitched, foalish squeal of joy, then flushed when King Sombra gave a laugh. He smiled, leading her away into the crowd, who parted for them. Celestia trotted behind, just barely, but even that small distance bothered her slightly.
And what’s more, Luna’s behavior worried her.
This marriage was purely political. It wouldn’t be a bad thing for Luna to grow fond of the king along the way, but the young princess seemed to be head over heels for this stallion and his kingdom.
She was far, far too attached already.
Celestia fought the frown trying to creep it’s way on to her face. She had to find some way to tell Luna to calm down and back away, to not hold on so tight. Because if she didn’t…
King Sombra was mortal.
And an Alicorn with a broken heart was a dangerous thing.
Exhaustion dragged at Luna’s frame, laying heavily over every one of her limbs. She was too tired to even fold her wings, and they hung half-open at her sides, an echo of the disheveled mane that hung wildly over her face. Her hooves throbbed in pain, and thin red lines streaked over her coat where her jeweled hooves pinched.
Luna had never spent so much time outside, with others, enthusiastically greeting ponies who came up to her.
She had never spent so much time smiling.
She had never spent so much time laughing.
Public appearances were more of her sister’s forte. But today…today had been an exception. An exception that Luna had enjoyed immensely.
The Lunar Princess raised her head slightly, wincing at the ache in her muscles. She forced her limp, weary wings open, reveling in the warm night breeze that tickled her feathers, then took a short, stumbling step forwards, hooves clinking on the iridescent crystal of the balcony she stood on.
Before her, the sky was thick, velvety, and black. The moon shone palely, a half-circle of glowing white looking down on the sleeping town below. The streets of the Crystal Empire were still, lamp-posts casting pools of warm golden light on the purple road, which was now indigo beneath the night.
Now, Luna was just arranging the stars. Streaks of multi-colored dots were sprayed across the sky, like a painter who had been careless with his brush. An aura of shimmering turquoise briefly lit up on Luna’s horn, and she nudged one into place, completing the constellation of a pony facing down an Ursa Major.
Subtle patterns decorated the backdrop of indigo and navy—historic events, documented in glowing dots of light; animals chasing each other through the sky; and when Luna wanted to be humorous, she threw in a constellation in the shape of a star itself.
But there was one design the princess always paid special attention to—it was stark enough to be seen clearly, but subtle enough to only be seen by those looking for it, a delicate balance. It was a phrase—three simple words, outlined by stars:
You are loved.
Luna liked to think there were ponies who sat out at night, searching the sky for the message she displayed every evening. She just wished to let her subjects know that even during the night…they weren’t forgotten.
She was there. Her sister watched the day, she would guard the night, and everypony in it. No matter who they were. And she wished them all to know that.
Sometimes, Luna wished she could arrange the weather. Her canvas of night was beautiful as it was, but could use the purple tint of a cloud or two…perhaps one artfully painted over the moon, halfway covering it, but the silver would still shine through the veil.
It would be a perfect scene, one straight from a book of poems, even. Her fellow artists would stare at it, then splash paint over their own canvases…maybe even document her secret message.
It would be her one dream.
The creak of a door jolted Luna from her thoughts, also bringing her head up sharply. A flash of light from her horn was all it took to smooth her mane and straighten her regalia, and she took a deep breath, wishing she could rub the sleepiness from her eyes.
She turned, catching sight of the door—it hung wide open, revealing the hall beyond, and Luna expected to see her sister, a guard, perhaps a servant, or some other official—really, she expected to see somepony come to fetch her back to the political gathering her sister was currently in. She had been able to briefly escape, in order that she might raise the moon, and she had dawdled for quite some time as she arranged the stars.
But no, it was none of those.
It was King Sombra.
Luna stood for a second, mouth hanging slightly open, trying desperately to fight back the blush creeping over her face. A gentle smile graced Sombra’s features, and he approached her, making Luna’s brain short circuit.
“It’s certainly a beautiful night outside.” His voice was deep, smooth and calming. He pulled up next to her, gazing out over the kingdom. Luna opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to speak, but all that came from her throat was an odd gurgling noise—it reminded her something of a duck drowning in toffee.
…not that she knew what that sounded like…
“Y-yes.” She eventually managed to choke out. “I suppose i-it is…”
“It is you who decorates the sky, is it not?” Sombra met her eyes, looking curious. Luna’s heart did a cartwheel, and she gave a slight nod.
“…I often wonder if anything can feel quite as refreshing as a breath of cool night air.” Sombra’s eyes drifted closed, and he inhaled deeply. Luna followed his example, and pure darkness temporarily enveloped her, accompanied by the dry chill of air rushing into her limbs. A small smile flickered across her face.
“No…I don’t think anything can feel like this.” The words sprang from her limbs in a murmur, though not by any conscious decision on her part. Her wings sprang open the slightest bit, and tiny whispers of breeze danced between feathers and coat, cooling her body. The air had cleared Luna’s head, and she now felt confident of her ability to speak complete sentences without stuttering once again.
Luna opened her eyes, turning her head to Sombra, who still stood by her side.
“Do you know where my sister is?” She questioned, then realized she may have sounded rude, and hastily tacked on another sentence. “I expected her to come for me as soon as the meeting was done.”
“Well…” The king gave a sheepish chuckle, sending a jolt of surprise tingling up Luna’s spine. “I must admit that the political gathering is…not finished quite yet. But…” His voice grew quiet. “I had the desire to escape. I wanted to…see you.”
Luna was rendered speechless once again—not only by the fact that he had slipped away, like her…but also because he had come to see her. The king glanced away, the tiniest hint of a blush appearing on his face.
There was a slightly uncomfortable moment of silence, in which neither of them knew quite what to say. Luna tapped a hoof restlessly against the ground. Sombra’s eyes roved over the sky, as if he was searching for words to break the stillness.
“Your night is beautiful.” He blurted, making the both of them jump slightly with his sudden words. “That is…there’s an ethereal beauty to it that I feel the day is sorely lacking in—and I mean no offense to your sister of course. The day is also beautiful, but…in a different way.”
A brief smile darted over Luna’s face, accompanied by a flood of warmth that countered the cool air.
King Sombra thought her night was beautiful. For some reason, Luna felt as if she’d rather hear it from him than from any other pony…
“I must agree with you on that sentiment.” She said,nodding. A thoughtful expression fell over her face. “Though all the same…sometimes I wish there was just a tad more color. The sky is beautiful as it is, I should really have no grievance with it, but…well, is it odd for me to say I wish there were green?”
Sombra was silent for a second, studying the dome above. Luna began to worry that perhaps her question was bit too odd, and he was beginning to rethink the wisdom in coming out to see her.
“Green?” He asked. Luna nodded, letting her gaze trail upwards over the sky, mirroring his.
“And pink.” She added. She felt a flood of words inside her gather speed, till they began to tumble from her mouth like a river loosed from its floodgates. “For instance, if it were possible for clouds to be those colors—and if I were allowed to arrange the weather. I would paint them so liberally over the sky! And they would add such a vibrant touch of color, it would change the night, and the dark cold nightmare that others usually see it as. But if the night did have more color, I wonder if it would lose it’s appeal to those who enjoy the darkness, with it’s muted tones. All the same…that does happen to be one thing I envy the day for. It’s amount of color.”
And the ponies who worship it, she added mentally. The thought sent a ripple of melancholy through her, and her face fell for a second.
Luna realized Sombra was looking at her, with a faintly amused smile on his face. She realized she had been babbling, and felt her cheeks flame up.
“You know…” Sombra glanced over the kingdom. “I think there is a way to interject more color into the night sky.”
Luna’s eyes widened in surprise. Sombra shot her the tiniest of winks—so tiny that she almost thought she had imagined it—and took a step towards the edge of the balcony.
He closed his eyes, raised his head, and let flickering ruby consume his horn. His magic aura shimmered like a precious stone, and Luna was so busy marveling the color that she jumped and let out a loud cry when a vibrant flash of light streaked across the sky.
Her mouth dropped open, heart still pounding from the sudden shock. Sheets of emerald and magenta light—in the exact shades Luna had been imagining—rippled and danced, weaving around each other in a breathtaking display of beauty. It was something Luna had never seen before—it made her heart race, and dazzled her eyes in a way that was both breathtaking and bewildering.
“…what is it?” She asked, nearly breathless.
“It’s called an aurora,” Sombra said, stepping back over to her, a smile on his face as he observed her wide, starry eyes and open-mouthed expression. “I believe the ability to create it comes with the power of the Crystal Heart, for some strange reason. But all the same…I think it’s beautiful.”
“It’s breathtaking.” Luna forced her mouth shut before she began to drool, unable to tear her gaze away from the hypnotic dance of color. “Where did the name come from?”
“…my mother.”
With that odd answer, Luna dragged her eyes from the aurora, instead fixing on Sombra’s face. He was gazing at the light, and the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth was both mournful and wistful.
“Queen Aurora Borealis of the Crystal Empire.” Sombra continued, his tone as far away as the expression on his face. “She discovered the ability to create light…light to shine across the night sky—not masking its beauty, but only enhancing it even more. Every other month the kingdom would hold a celebration of the night—called the Lunar Festival—and my mother would light the sky with an aurora. The colors would be chosen by the subjects, by popular vote, and—”
Sombra broke off, a chuckle bubbling up from his throat.
“Forgive me, Luna.” He said. “I am babbling by now.”
“No, don’t think you have to apologize.” Luna shook her head. “Your story has…well, it’s given me such happiness to hear. A celebration for the night, and it’s beauty…” A smile flickered across her face. “It’s my one dream.”
She decided she didn’t particularly want others to know about her dream of artists painting her sky…it would only make them laugh at her. Sombra was understanding, more understanding than anypony she’d ever met, but it was still just a foalish dream. Not one fit for a princess of Equestria.
“Thank you a million times over.” Luna let out a sigh, sitting down and curling her tail around her hooves like a cat. “This is…the most incredible sight I have ever had the privilege of laying my eyes on.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Sombra gave another rumbling chuckle, taking a seat next to the Alicorn.
The two sat in silence for some time, but it was a silence much more comfortable than the one before. The gaze of both was fixed on the aurora, watching it dance from the vast and great unknown.
“Luna…” Sombra glanced away slightly. “I just wanted to say…you’re very…lovely.”
Luna’s face burned with the compliment, and she rubbed a hoof against it, reveling in the coolness of her jeweled shoes.
“I know that this union is mostly political,” Sombra continued, “but…I hope we can be happy together. I don’t think happiness is too much to ask for…no matter the stature of the pony asking for it.”
“I agree.” Luna gave a nod, smiling. “Tonight, with your simple act of kindness…just showing me this aurora, and telling me the story of your festival, it’s made me happier than I can remember being in a long time.” Now it was her turn to glance away shyly. “This marriage does root from politics, I agree, but…I don’t believe it’d be a bad thing if we…fell in love along the way.”
Sombra gave a soft smile, holding out his hoof to her. Luna laid hers on to of it, gently, cautiously leaning against him. He accepted her slight weight, letting his head drop on top of her own. A small shiver ran over Luna’s spine as she realized she could feel the warmth radiating from his coat.
The two sat in silence again, letting the sounds and sensations of the night wash over them. The aurora shone ever brighter, dancing and flickering against its backdrop of dark, velvety sky.
“…Is that all?” A frown crosses the pony’s face as the bard falls silent, thought it’s a frown nopony can see. She keeps forgetting her face is obscured by the heavy hood.
Her frown is carried on in her voice, which falls heavily in the silence of the tavern. It seems as though Quick Strings can detect the hint of accusation in her voice as well, and he hurries to reassure her.
“There is much more to my tale.” He says. “But…as you may have noticed, it is quite late.”
The pony glances towards of the nearest window, and has to agree.
Though the time had already been late when the tale begun, nearly an hour has passed since then. In that short hour, the fire has died down, leaving naught but flickering embers in the hearth. The crowd has thinned drastically, leaving only a few stragglers left, all of whom are clustered around the pony’s table, listening to Quick Strings’ song.
The pony is amazed by how much the atmosphere changed, and by how deeply engrossed in the story she was, that she didn’t even notice.
“If I had to guess, the hour is near midnight, if not past.” Quick Strings continues. “Perhaps it is best if we continue this tomorrow?”
The pony heaves a sigh. She had hoped to hear the tale and be on her way, but…she sees the wisdom in the bard’s reasoning. A scraping sound fills the air as she pushes her chair back from the table.
“Very well.” She says. “I shall stay the night, and tomorrow we can continue. Do you agree?”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself!” Quick Strings beams at her, sweeping an exaggerated bow. “Till tomorrow, mystery mare!”
He then trots off, steps deceivingly perky, but the pony can see his hooves dragging every so slightly. She can tell, for certain, that at least he is tired, and a prickle of guilt runs over her spine for keeping him up so late.
The other ponies turn away, muttering amongst themselves, discussing the bard’s story. The pony listens to them for a second, then tunes them out, finding their conversation uninteresting.
“Well, I suppose that means you’d like a room?”
She jumps as a voice addresses her from across the room. She turns to the source of the voice, which ends up being the kind-faced mare, and gives a weary nod.
“Very well.” The matron gives her a warm smile. Follow me, hun.”
The pony willingly obeys, trotting after the mare.
That’s when she realizes just how tired she is.
An aching, bone-deep weariness has settled over her, as if heavy weight have been strapped to her limbs. She stumbles slightly, then shakes her head, biting her tongue to keep herself awake.
The mare leads her out of the tavern, onto a wide wooden staircase lined with flickering candles encased in glass bulbs. The stairs lead up, to a long, silent hallway lined with doors.
All of this the pony recognizes in the back of her mind, but she assigns no worth to her current observations. A majority of her focus is spent on moving forwards, putting one hoof in front of the other, all the way down the stretch of the thin, threadbare carpet.
“Here we are.” The mare’s voice is hushed, respectful of those sleeping around them. She pulls a ring of keys from her apron, unlocking the door before them, then hands the certain key to the pony. “Sleep tight.”
“Thank you.” The pony takes the key, forcing herself to stay upright. “Ms…?”
“Ladle.” The mare smiles at her. “Tin Ladle. Now you go have a nice rest.”
The pony nods thankfully, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.
She has no time to observe her surroundings—that is, other than the small bed tucked in the far left corner. She stumbles eagerly over to it, collapsing onto the soft mattress, not even bothering to remove her cloak.
Her weariness fully overcomes her, and soon she is in the hooves of the Lunar Princess.
The thing that first wakes the pony is the sunlight streaming through the window.
The thing that does next is the loud, high-pitched crow of a rooster.
She lets out a groan, rolling over in her bed. Her limbs are restricted by the edges of her cloak, which entangled itself with her legs during the night. Somehow, she manages to struggle upright, blinking blear-eyed at her surroundings.
The room is sparse, but somehow homey. A squat wooden table sits by the head of her bed, set with a single, unlit candle. The floor is of wood, worn smooth by the many hooves of the ponies before her. A brightly-colored rug decorates the center of the floor, made of what the pony guesses is braided wool.
A table borders the door, and a small bookcase sits next to that. The shelves are mostly empty, except for a few thin novels stacked on one side. The pony finds her wondering what they are about, and what it would be like if she could even read them…
Directly across the room sits an ill-fitting door, which is currently open. It reveals a tiny room beyond—the pony guesses it’s a washroom, judging by the mirror and basin currently visible. She catches a glimpse of herself in the streaky glass, and she bites back a shudder of repulsion. Her horn briefly flares with light, and the door slams closed.
The pony’s next move is to get out of bed—which she accomplishes with some difficulty, kicking her legs free of the cloak. She doesn’t bother to straighten her mane, but lifts the hood of her cloak over her head again, shadowing her face.
After making sure she is sufficiently hid, she trots out of the room, locking the door behind her.
The hallway is now flooded with light—natural light, streaming from large windows on either side. One other pony is trotting down the hall—a Pegasus, with ruffled wings and a disheveled mane, eyes staring blearily into the distance as he trots downstairs.
From below, the pony can hear a murmur of talk, as well as spoons clinking on bowls. The scent of cinnamon and honey floods into her nostrils, prompting her to leap forwards, trotting quickly down the stairs and into the tavern.
The room is once again filled with ponies, though not quite as many as the night before. The smell of cinnamon has only grown stronger, and now it’s accompanied by the sweet scent of fruit, as well as frying butter. The pony’s stomach gives a growl of anticipation.
“Morning, hun!” The pony turns to face the smiling Tin Ladle, who has a tray of crumb-streaked dishes balanced in her hoof.
“Hello, Ms. Ladle.” The pony smiles.
“Did you sleep well?” Tin says conversationally, collecting the dishes from a table without bothering to look. Once again, the pony has to marvel at her skill.
“Very well, thank you.” She says. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept so solidly.”
“Well, that’s high praise!” Tin beams at her. “And by the way, Quick Strings is up and waiting for you.”
She jerks her head towards the corner of the room, where the pony sat last night. True to her word, the yellow Earth Pony is sitting at the table, strumming his instrument with a thoughtful expression on his face. Through the background noise, the pony can faintly hear the twangy, lighthearted tune.
“He’s been waiting for quite some time.” Tin chuckles, wiping a wet cloth over the table she’s just cleared. “I reckon he’s pretty eager to continue his song—he’s never had such an avid listener as you. At least, no pony who would stay overnight to finish the story.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” the pony draws a coin purse out from beneath her cloak. “I believe I owe you now.” She offers the mare a jingling hoofful of bits, accompanied by a chip of crystal or two.
“Thank you kindly, hun.” Tin sets aside both tray and cloth temporarily, fishing her own wallet from a pocket in her apron. She adds the bits to the collection, then cinches the bag tight.
The pony replaces her own wallet, trying not to think about how limp it is.
Or how reluctant she is to part with those bits.
Money doesn’t come easily to her.
“I’d suggest going and taking a seat with Quick.” Tin nods towards the table. “And I’ll bring you breakfast in a jiffy. What would you like?”
“A bowl of oat mash.” The pony says, then quickly adds, “please.”
“You got it. Coming right up!” The mare takes up the tray again, trotting into the kitchen and disappearing. The pony heads towards the table.
Upon hearing her approaching hoofsteps, the bard spins around to face her, and the pony feels a twinge of amusement as his face lights up.
“Top of the morning to you, mystery mare!” He beams, giving a small bounce of excitement.
It’s clear his energy has returned in tenfold. It almost makes the pony exhausted.
“Good morning.” She greets. “How are you?”
“Never been better!” Quick Strings says, an uncontrolled grin on his face. “And you?”
“Well rested.” The pony says, taking a seat opposite the table from him. “Now, where did we leave off in your tale?”
I believe the princesses had just returned from the Empire.” The bard informs her. “Now, there—”
“Here you are.”
Quick Strings is interrupted by Tin Ladle, who sets a bowl down on the table. The pony beams in delight, taking up the spoon.
The oats themselves are a plain, dull gray color, but coupled with a thick layer of yellow cream, and sprinkled with liberal amounts of cinnamon sugar, it seems much more inviting.
“Now, you just call me if you need anything.” Tin says. “All right, Quick, get on with your story now! I imagine this poor pony doesn’t want to wait any longer than she has to.”
The pony gives a chuckle as an embarrassed blush forms on the bard’s face.
“I don’t take that long to tell a story.” He argues.
“Sure you don’t.” The mare chuckles. “Take care.” She trots away to care for the others.
“…Well, I’ll just continue now…” Quick Strings mutters, eyes following Tin Ladle. The pony bobs her head in agreement, placing a spoonful of sweetly-flavored porridge in her mouth. The bard clears his throat.
Well, perhaps “trotted” wasn’t exactly the right word. “Bounced” would certainly fit better.
Indeed, it seemed as if the carpet beneath her hooves could be made entirely of springs. Her every step bounced energetically, propelling her quickly towards her destination.
Bobbing up and down in the air before Luna’s muzzle was a small chest, made of dark oak. The Princess’s eyes were fixed on it, only occasionally snapping up to check the way before her.
She didn’t need to pay much attention to her path, however. This wing of the Canterlot castle wasn’t often populated and today certainly was not an exception. She’d only passed three other ponies so far, all royal guards, and all they had to offer the Princess was a quick bow of acknowledgment.
These days, a happily-trotting Luna, such as she was now, was a common sight.
Especially at this time of day.
The sun was just barely beginning it’s descent, leaving the sky splashed with the faintest sheen of gold. The pale light filtered through the tall windows of the palace, casting soft, gray shadows on the crimson carpeting. Streaks of clouds were spattered over the blue-gold dome, like an artist who’d been careless with their brush. The downy white mounds were outlined in vibrant yellow, a yellow that would darken to orange and then scarlet as the sun grew lower.
Indeed, it was the perfect start to a peaceful evening. An evening Luna would certainly enjoy.
After all, she always enjoyed talking to Sombra.
It’d been months since the Equestrian monarchs’ first visit to the Crystal Empire. The few days they’d spent in the foreign kingdom were deeply ingrained in Luna’s memory as a magical time, full of light and laughter. Since then, Luna and Sombra had made every opportunity to talk—it didn’t happen as often as they would’ve liked, but often enough for them to learn much more about each other.
Luna had discovered that Sombra was a fan of art as well. Barely a meet passed where they didn’t find themselves lost in a conversation over complexity in literary characters, or a discussion of the more abstract form of art that was taking hold of Equestria’s artists.
Luna felt as if she finally had somepony who understood every part of her, who she could speak freely around. Sombra never told her she was being ridiculous or that she was wrong.
It was…a foreign experience to her.
The Princess finally reached her room, tucked far away from the main section of the castle, just as she preferred. She threw open the sleek ebony doors, then shut them quickly behind her; trotting into the overly-fancy first room—one only set up to impress others, if they ever happened to stumble across her private chambers.
Luna trotted to the room beyond, her bedchamber.
This one was much sparser than the one before. Her bed was nothing more than a large couch—made so by her own request—so unlike the heavy four-poster of her sister. The frame of the bed was coal-black in color, shaped like a half-moon. Her sheets were dark blue, silken pillows pale lilac in color, and they were accompanied by a threadbare stuffed animal or two—precious artifacts from the Princess’s foalhood, and a clear indication of her more childish side.
The floor was dark wood, decorated only by a blue ombre rug at her bedside. The walls were painted icy, bluish-white, like the reflection of moonlight off water. But the color could barely be seen, as it was liberally coated with canvas after canvas, from floor to ceiling, all around the room—only caving to make way for the tall windows, of course.
The paintings were all different—some were large enough to come to Luna’s shoulders, but others were barely half the size. Some were dark in color—mountains in the rain, midnight landscapes, and the such—but even more were vibrantly colored, like a field of flowers in the sunlight. One or two were abstract, taking off the style that was quickly growing popular, but a vast majority of them were clear and easy to understand.
A half-painted canvas sat next to the window, it’s sunset-tinted colors beginning to match those from outside as the sun continued it’s inevitable descent behind the horizon.
Luna placed the wooden chest she’d been carrying at the foot of the bed, flipping open it’s worn lid. Four small, unassuming purple stones lay at the bottom, glinting in the light. Luna levitated them out, placing them on a bedside table, in the shape of a small square.
As soon as she placed them so, a flash of purple light ignited between the stones, shooting upwards a few inches to form a flat screen of fuzzy purple.
“Hello?” A static-filled voice crackled out from the square screen, “Luna?”
“I’m here, Sombra,” Luna squinted at the light, trying to discern anything from the blurred projection. “Can you hear me? I can’t see you.”
“You’re coming in loud and clear,” Sombra said. “Ugh. Curse these newfangled spells. I can never figure out how to get them to work.”
“You sound like my sister.” the Princess stifled a giggle.
“I can’t tell if that was meant to be a compliment or not,” Sombra said, his voice amused.
“Have you tried disabling the spell, then enabling it again?” Luna asked. “That usually works.”
A loud, high-pitched blip emanated from the magical screen, making her wince and flatten her ears against her head. Then the crackles of static faded, replaced by Sombra’s voice again.
“There. Did that fix it?”
“Sort of,” Luna squinted at the projection. The streaks of blurry purple had faded, showing something beyond, as if looking through a window. The Princess could see the edge of a table, as well as a blue crystal wall. “I can see part of a room, but not you.”
“Sorry. Hold on a second.” There was a brief cackle, and the scene shifted, making Luna slightly dizzy. But then Sombra appeared on the screen, a smile on his face. “There—can you see me now?”
“Yes!” Luna waved a hoof, returning his smile. “How are you doing?”
“Not bad.” Sombra chuckled, taking a seat on some unseen piece of furniture. “I had to attend a council today, and all they talked about was the ‘proper’ price of oats. I nearly died from boredom.”
“It does sound dreadfully dull,” Luna agreed, giving a small giggle.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Sombra rolled his eyes. “Dear Quillfeather didn’t even try to make it look as if he was paying attention. He spent the entire time fast asleep in his chair.”
Quillfeather was Sombra’s closest—and oldest—advisor. He’d served during the previous King’s time, and had been his closest friend.
Apparently, he was remarkably old now—nearly a hundred years of age. According to Sombra, his wits were beginning to grow dull, but Sombra was too close to him to let him go.
“If only everyone could be that unashamed,” Luna said. Sombra snorted a laugh of agreement.
“How about you?” The King asked. “How are you faring?”
“I’m fine,” Luna responded, giving a small shrug. “I woke up at around midday, and attended a small lunch with my sister, who was able to pull herself away from her duties to spend some time with me. I read a few more chapters from Haykespeare’s Haymlet—oh, that reminds me! Have you had time to pursue Poneo and Juliet, like I suggested?”
“As a matter of fact, I finished it,” Sombra informed her.
“What did you think?” Luna gave a tiny hop of excitement. “The ending was so beautifully tragic, wasn’t it?”
“It certainly was,” Sombra agreed. “And I enjoyed the play, for the most part. I did find some parts of it slightly frustrating, however…for instance, the recklessness of the two young lovers.”
“Recklessness?” Luna questioned, raising both eyebrows in surprise.
“Well, yes,” Sombra said. “They rushed headlong into a secret marriage, trying to force the hooves of their parents. They were both young, and had plenty of their lives left to work for peace in a situation that was complicated at the least, considering all the bad blood in between.”
“But don’t you think that their parents would have been more interested in peace knowing that their children were married?” Luna pointed out, settling into a comfortable position on her bed.
“They never tried to tell them, though,” Sombra reminded her.
“When would they have had an opportunity?” Luna asked.
“For one, the time when Poneo was attacked by Juliet’s cousin,” Sombra said. “If he’d just admitted his marriage to Juliet, perhaps Tybalt would have been less reluctant to duel him, and Poneo could have saved the lives of both his friend and Juliet’s cousin.”
“Maybe he was afraid,” the Princess countered. “Perhaps he thought it would be better if he waited till a moment when the mood was right, and the revelation was more likely to be accepted.”
“There’ll never be a wrong time to tell the truth,” Sombra argued. “It was always come out eventually, no matter what, so there’s no point in delaying it.”
“But what if the listener is not ready to hear it?” Luna asked. “Then it might not be the right time. If they’re not ready to accept it and it will cause more suffering, it’s more prudent to wait till a better moment. After all, aren’t some secrets are too beautiful to be shared right away?
“I, personally, believe that the romance between the two was sweet and touching—most especially at the end, when they showed the depths of their love in clear unwillingness to live without each other. And after all, their deaths did bring peace between the families—the peace that they’d hoped for.”
“But unbearable tragedy was the price,” Sombra argued. “In contrast to the proper quote, the ends really don’t justify the means. Actually, if you think about it, in the end the story isn’t about love after all. Love was simply a way for Hakespeare to deliver to us his real message—'Ponykind, look at what your senseless feuds and intrigues do to your own lives. Imagine how beautiful it would've been if the two families weren't murderously opposed to each other. Do you really want to be like them?'”
“With that mindset, the message is a good reminder to those in positions of power to be concerned about the welfare of everypony, rather than their own personal desires,” Luna realized. “If a leader chooses to act according to petty differences…it can cause widespread suffering.”
“Excellent observation.” Sombra gave a nod. A small smile crossed his face. “You know, you didn’t strike me as one to apply something from a work of fiction such as this to politics.”
“I didn’t strike me as one like that either.” Luna admitted, giving a faint giggle. “It just kind of…came to mind.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Did you paint that?” Sombra changed the subject, pointing a hoof at something behind Luna. The Princess turned, catching sight of the half-finished painting sitting in the light of the dying sun.
“Oh! Yes.” She flushed slightly with embarrassment—though she didn’t know why, Sombra wasn’t going to criticize her on it.
But…nopony had ever seen one of her unfinished paintings so far.
Or…any of her paintings in general.
“It’s incredible!” Sombra said, his eyes wide with amazement.
“T-thank you!” Luna stuttered, now blushing not from embarrassment, but from the compliment. “It’s not quite finished yet, I’m afraid. I’ve requested the same weather for every evening, till the end of this week…I must say, having Cloudsdale is quite useful.”
“I wish the Empire had something like that.” Sombra sighed. “Though I don’t suppose there is currently a force known to ponykind that could tame the winds of the frozen north. Actually, the weather within the Crystal Heart’s magical borders is largely controlled by the Heart itself.”
“Really?” Luna said, surprised. “I didn’t know you could control weather with the Heart.”
“Neither did we, till recently.” Sombra chuckled.
“The Heart really is fascinating.” Luna gave a small, wistful sigh. “And the Empire itself is simply wonderful…I wish I’d had more time when I was there last.”
“I wish the same,” Sombra echoed her sigh.
There was another brief second of silence.
“I wish you were here,” Sombra said quietly.
“I wish I was there too,” Luna admitted.
“I’m so tired of only seeing you through this blurry screen…” The King said. “I wish there was some way to simply…teleport you to the Empire.”
“That’d be amazing!” Luna agreed. “If there was just some way to convince my sister to make another journey…
“Well, even if she did agree, it would take simply forever to organize the trip. All these ridiculous ‘diplomatic’ things that have to happen first.”
“It would all be worth the effort if we could just see each other again, face to face,” Sombra insisted. Luna gave a shy smile, glancing down to hide the blush on her face.
“I’ll bring it up with my sister at the nearest opportune moment,” She said. “In the meantime…I suppose we must make do with this spell.”
“It’s really not the same.” Sombra sighed. “But…it’s better than nothing.” He gave Luna a smile.
A loud knock broke the comfortable silence, making Luna jump—and judging by the crackles of static that accompanied the sound, it came from Sombra’s side.
“Enter,” he said. “Who is it?”
There was a slow creak, then a respectful voice spoke up, so quiet Luna had to strain her ears to hear it.
“Your majesty,” the voice said. “You have another appointment in approximately ten minutes.”
“Oh, blast.” Sombra sighed, turning back to Luna. “I forgot. I absolutely detest cutting our meeting short, but…I have another council to attend.” He rolled his eyes, apparently not caring about the other pony now watching them converse. “It’s most likely about oats again.”
“Try not to die from boredom.” Luna giggled.
“I shall do my best.” Sombra gave her a rueful smile. “Till next time!” He offered a wave as he blinked out of sight, and the light faded away, disappearing into the stones.
Luna stared at them for a few seconds, lost in thought.
Maybe it was worth a try after all. She hoped she could convince Celestia to make another visit to the Crystal Empire…
It would be lovely to see Sombra face-to-face again.
A blizzard raged around Luna, tearing at her thick cloak with icy fingers, trying to peel it away and expose the warm coat beneath. Through the help of a handy spell, her hooves didn’t sink into the snow below, but she could still the cold shooting up her legs in spite of the warm fur wraps she wore. Occasionally, her horn flared with light, sending out a blast of heat that would melt the ice building up and weighing down her cloak.
But it always faded, and the cold sank back in, numbing her limbs.
Another body struggled against the howling wind next to her—Celestia, who could barely be seen, thanks to her cream-white cloak. Luna’s was dark blue, matching her fur, and stood out starkly against the snowy landscape.
A squadron of other ponies surrounded them—the majority were royal guards, but a few were servants chosen to accompany the royals on this visit. Luna knew that her personal maid, Lily Petals, was somewhere behind her.
She couldn’t see Lily, however. It was nearly impossible to see Celestia, and she was barely two feet from Luna. The roaring veil of ice and snow blotted out the entire world around her, other than the occasional flashes as the Unicorns in the guard lit their horns and warmed themselves in the same way Luna did.
The Moon Princess didn’t envy the Pegasi who had to pull the chariot. It was hard enough walking against the wind with no burdens, and though the wheels of the chariot were enchanted to balance on top of the snow, it most definitely wasn’t easy.
Hopefully, that would all change soon. Luna knew they were heading in the right direction, even if she couldn’t see the Empire’s force field ahead of her. She blinked away snowflakes that were clinging to her eyelashes, casting about her mind for something that would bring her focus off her freezing body and the ice clinging to the edges of her cloak.
For some reason, it fell upon the discussion she’d had with Celestia while trying to convince her sister to visit Sombra’s kingdom again. A frown dug into her face, and she nearly stumbled over an uneven drift as she recalled the conversation.
Tia hadn’t wanted to go. She tried to talk Luna out of it.
But why?
Why was she so against it?
Luna huffed out a sigh, watching her breath crystallize in the cold air. She didn’t understand her sister at all.
A fur-clad hoof suddenly appeared in front of Luna’s face and she bumped against it, blinking in surprise. She glanced to the owner of the hoof, only to discover it was Celestia, and her sister was staring at something right in front of them.
Luna turned her head, nearly jolting backwards when she realized they were inches from the curved blue dome of the Crystal Empire’s borders. She took a deep breath, shuddering as the frigid air stung her throat, then entered the force field.
There was a blast of heat and light, almost a sensory overload after the dull white of the blizzard. Luna slammed her eyes closed as pain blazed across them, stumbling forwards to allow the other behind her to pass through.
She shook off the sudden furs clinging to her legs, crusted with dripping ice. A dull, painful prickle stabbed at the flesh of her numb hooves, like a million needles with rounded tips. The light seared her eyes like it was being directly refracted into her face, even when they were closed. Luna pressed a wing to her face, welcoming the brief relief of darkness it brought.
“Sister.”
Luna lowered her wing, squinting painfully through the glare at Celestia, who’d cast aside her own cloak already.
A glass bottle was suspended before her, shimmering not only from the golden aura of her magic, but also from the iridescent liquid it contained. Luna stared at the bottle in confusion, wondering what Celestia could want.
“Drink it.”
The Moon Princess raised an eyebrow at her sister’s request. It didn’t necessarily look as if the liquid would taste unpleasant, and she knew Tia would never give her something that would harm her, but…she had long since learned not to stick glowing substances in her mouth.
“It’ll help,” Celestia insisted. A raspy sigh slipped from Luna’s lips as she gave in, taking hold of the bottle in her own magical, turquoise aura. The cork popped out easily and, with some hesitation, Luna took a sip of the concoction.
Almost immediately she broke into a coughing fit, and would have dropped the bottle had Celestia not taken quick hold of it. The taste was unpleasant, contrary to Luna’s earlier expectations; yet it felt cool and refreshing to her cold-parched throat, and simultaneously sent out a tingling warmth that rid her of the uncomfortable prickles lingering beneath her skin.
“What was that?” she asked, rubbing a hoof against her throat.
“A potion,” Celestia responded simply. “I had it made before we left. I figured it would be useful after traipsing through that snow storm.”
Luna nodded, shrugging off the heavy folds of her own cloak. Lily Petals, who’d been waiting behind her, quickly took it from her and stored it in the chariot. She came back, clutching a hairbrush with one wing, and immediately began to try and sort out the snow-dampened tangles of Luna’s mane.
Luna made a noise of protest, dodging a swipe from the brush. Lily gave a sigh, falling back a step.
“Your Highness,” she said exasperatedly. “Please.”
Luna subsided, albeit reluctantly. No reason for her to make Lily’s job any harder than it already was.
After yanking a brush through the tangles—while Luna made some very undignified whimpering noises—the white-furred Pegasus stepped back, storing the brush again.
“Can we leave now?” Luna asked, rubbing the small tears of pain from her eyes. Celestia—who’d suffered through the same thing as Luna, although she’d reacted in a much more dignified way—nodded at her sister.
The two princesses mounted the chariot and Luna fidgeted in place, trying to fight back the wide smile growing on her face.
We’re almost there.
Soon I can see him again.
There was just as much fanfare as the first time the sisters had visited. The streets were once again choked with cheering ponies, all of whom tossed confetti at the monarchs flying above them.
Warmth flooded through Luna’s core at the sight. All these ponies, Earth, Unicorns and Pegasi, they were celebrating them. Not just her sister, but both of them.
And they were excited! They didn’t merely bow in solemn awe, they were cheering! They expressed their excitement by gathering in joyous celebration!
Luna put a hoof over the rail of the chariot, leaning out as far as she dared. The ponies beneath called out louder at the sight, and she fought hard to counter the delighted blush threatening to creep over her face.
From behind her, she heard Celestia give a disapproving sigh and reluctantly slunk back. But there was no stopping the excitement pounding through her veins. They were almost there.
This time, when the chariot came in before the palace, Sombra was there waiting for them. Luna’s heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, and the smile that lit up his face when he saw her made her feel like flying.
“Sombra!” she cried, practically leaping from the chariot before it had even stopped moving.
“Luna!” Sombra caught her in his forelegs, spinning her around. Luna let out a breathless laugh, hugging him tight.
Celestia cleared her throat.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sombra chuckled, an unabashed smile on his face. The bubble of happiness swelling in Luna didn’t fade, even when she caught sight of the indecipherable expression on Celestia’s face.
Was it surprise, perhaps?
Shock?
Disgust?
“Greetings, Your Highness,” Sombra let go of Luna to give Celestia a bow, which she stiffly returned. “I hope your journey was pleasant?”
“As pleasant as it could be,” Celestia muttered.
Luna frowned. Something was decidedly off.
Her sister was acting…odd.
“Well.” Sombra gave an awkward laugh that sounded wrong in the suddenly chilly mood, “Perhaps you would…like to refresh yourselves in your rooms? The journey here must have…taken it’s toll.” He gave the tiniest of coughs, as if he was trying to clear his throat without anypony noticing.
“Yes,” Celestia said, still in an oddly stiff tone of voice. “That would be excellent.”
Sombra nodded, looking as if he was unsure of what to say. It seemed that Celestia’s manner had caught him completely off guard. But then, he turned to Luna with a smile.
“I have something to show you, my dear,” he said.
“Really?” Luna’s eyes sparked with excitement.
“Yes!” Sombra said, sounding just as eager as her. “It’s inside, though. Shall we?” He offered his hoof to the Moon Princess. She giggled, taking it, and he lead her inside; Celestia trailed after them with the rest of their entourage.
Luna’s room was breathtaking.
Perhaps it wasn't so familiar and cozy as her room back in Canterlot, but it more than made up for that in beauty and delicacy.
The walls were of light-blue crystal, which caught the light pouring in from the tall windows that lined the three outward-facing walls. The ceiling was painted, depicting a convergence of dusk and dawn. The sun was painted at one corner and the salmon-pink sky that surrounded it gradually faded to a navy blue, punctuated with the silver orb of the moon on the opposite corner. The bed was of light, silvery wood, blanketed with silk sheets of pale blue. The floor was carpeted from wall to wall, and the carpet itself had an ombre design—much like Luna’s rug at home, but violet instead of blue.
In all, it felt as if the room had been custom-made for her.
Luna flopped backwards onto the bed—she knew it was undignified for a Princess, but she didn’t care. It was soft and more comfortable than anything Luna had slept on for days.
Of course, the keepers of the inns they’d stopped at during their journey had been practically bursting with pride to receive such royal customers, and had always offered their very best, but nothing could quite match the comfort of a palace featherbed.
“Your Highness.”
Luna raised her head, looking at the pony who’d addressed her. Lily Petals stood in the doorway, a pile of suitcases balanced precariously on her back.
“Enter,” The Princess said, dropping her head back down. She heard the maid give a barely-imperceptible sigh of exasperation and squirmed around so that she was lying stomach-down on the bed.
“Is Your Highness tired from the journey?” Lily asked politely, flitting around the room and unpacking the suitcases.
“No, not really,” Luna admitted. “I have plenty of energy,” she gave a small bounce on the bed, as if proving her point. Lily chuckled.
“Your Highness always did seem to have more energy than your sister,” she commented.
“Well, that’s cause Tia’s working all the time,” Luna pointed out, rolling onto her back again. “And she has to deal with all kinds of stuffy nobles all the time. I know if I had to do that, I’d be dead by the end of the day.”
The maid and the Princess shared a giggle.
“Sister.”
Luna leapt up, darting off the bed as Celestia walked into the room. She felt…guilty for some reason. The Sun Princess frowned and Luna tried not to fidget under her baleful glare.
“Y-yes?” she stuttered, kicking a hoof against the carpet before she caught herself and pressed it firmly against the ground.
“We need to have a talk,” Celestia said, trotting farther into the room. “Alone,” she added with a glance at Lily.
Luna forced herself not to swallow nervously, and a lump built up in her throat. The maid gave a respectful bow, trotting out of the room and closing the door.
“W-what do you want to talk about?” she asked, internally kicking herself for stuttering like a frightened foal. What was she so scared of?
“I think you know what,” Celestia gestured for Luna to take a seat on the bed, which Luna resented.
She wasn’t a foal anymore—she didn’t need her sister looming over her like a disappointed schoolteacher. So she held her ground, refusing to move.
Celestia’s frown deepened.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Luna insisted.
“It’s about the King,” Celestia sighed. “Don’t you think you’re…overdoing it just a bit?”
“‘Overdoing it’?” Luna said, confused. “Tia, what are you talking about?”
“Oh, sister,” Celestia rubbed a hoof against the bridge of her muzzle with a pained expression. “I think you should…not spend so much time with him as you did the last occasion we visited.”
“What?” Luna cried, alarmed. “Why?”
“It’s a very delicate matter,” Celestia said, which only added to Luna’s confusion. “And if you can’t figure it out on your own, that just proves even more than you should listen to me.”
“That’s completely unreasonable!” Luna argued. Her heart beat slightly faster and a wild thrill filled her at the notion of this rebellion. She couldn’t remember when the last time was that she’d spoken against her sister.
“If you could see my point, it wouldn’t be,” Celestia sighed again.
“No,” Luna shook her head, stepping around her sister and walking towards the door. “This is ridiculous.”
“Don’t walk away from me!” Celestia snapped, whirling around. “I’m talking to you!”
“You are not my mother!” Luna shot back, almost surprised by how angry she felt. “Stop pretending you are!”
She saw Celestia opening her mouth, no doubt to scold her again and bolted from the room before she could hear another word.
“So, what was it you wanted to show me?” Luna asked.
She was followed Sombra down a long hallway lined with tall windows, perfectly identical to the last nine hallways they’d passed through. They were now far from the heart of the palace and Luna was completely and totally lost.
Once she married Sombra, she’d have to familiarize herself with the layout of the palace. Otherwise she’d have to have a servant direct her everywhere.
“It’s right this way,” Sombra said, giving a tiny hop of excitement. Luna couldn’t help but giggle at his foalish behavior—he looked like an excited young colt, not a regal monarch who ruled a beautiful kingdom of shimmering ponies.
“Did you like your room?” the King asked. Luna nodded eagerly, a smile spreading over her face.
“It’s beautiful!” she said. “It feels almost like it was made for me.”
“That’s because it was.” Sombra winked at her, “I had it put together with you in mind, my dear.”
Luna blushed, fighting back the cheesy grin threatening to break over her face.
“Oh, we’re finally here!” Sombra paused. They’d reached a door at the end of the hallway. “Close your eyes.”
The Princess did as he requested, fighting back an amused giggle. Her twitching ears picked up the slow, heavy creak of an opening door, then Sombra took her hoof and led her on.
The light shifted from either side to all around her, telling her they’d moved into a room rather than another hallway. Sombra bade her stand still and she shifted restlessly from hoof to hoof, listening to the sound of something being dragged across the floor.
“Okay,” Sombra said, “you may look now.”
Luna carefully opened her eyes, blinking slightly as her vision adjusted to the greater amounts of light streaming in from the windows. A tall, wooden easel stood before her, covered in a heavy white cloth.
“What is it?” she asked.
Sombra’s horn lit up with ruby, pulling the covering off dramatically. Luna’s eyes widened in surprise, and her mouth dropped open.
Luna supposed she should’ve figured it out from the start, because what else could it be but a painting? It was quite large, much larger than her head at any right, and she felt as if she needed to take a step back in order to see it fully.
It was a depiction of the night, but not the same flat black and navy as was common. The sky was of a medium blue, which faded to a slightly greener blue in the lower right corner. A shimmering belt of peach and sky blue streaked across the middle, disappearing in a pink glow behind the silhouette of a hill that crossed the bottom of the canvas. The figure of a pony stood on the left side of the hill—a pony, Luna realized, that was her. The sky was practically encrusted with stars, stars that were arranged into familiar shapes that she recognized.
This was not just a picture of the night sky, but her sky. The sky she stared up at each night till there was a crick in her neck, all to make sure it looked perfect for any who might look up. A sky worthy of recognition.
A sky she’d always dreamed to see a painting of.
“So, um…do you like it?” Sombra looked nervous.
Luna’s reply was to throw herself at him, a strangled sound escaping her lips—whether it was a laugh or a sob she couldn’t tell. Sombra let out a muffled “oof”, stumbling backwards a few steps as her forelegs wrapped around his neck.
“I take it that means you like it?” he chuckled, returning the hug.
“It’s perfect!” Luna wiped the tears from her eyes, letting go of him and turning back to scour over the painting.
“Thanks,” Sombra gave an embarrassed laugh. “I…um, I made it. I’ve never really painted before, and I had to have help from the court artist, but…I think it turned out better than I expected.”
Luna froze, her eyes widening. The painting seemed to take on a new light.
She could see the flaws. The blending between the pink and blue was somewhat stark, and occasionally a star was oddly large, as if there had been too much paint on the brush. The legs on Luna’s figure were shorter than they were in real life, and her outspread wings were a bit lopsided.
But he’d made it.
For her.
Somehow the flaws made it even more perfect.
Luna flung herself at him for the second time, again managing to catch him off guard. But instead of wildly laughing, now she was just crying.
She didn’t fully understand it. She’d never been happier—why was she crying? She buried her face in Sombra’s shoulder, simultaneously embracing the tears and wishing she could make them stop.
“Thank you,” she said in a muffled voice. “It’s…amazing. I…don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Sombra said gently, returning the hug. Luna sniffed.
“How can I ever repay you?” she wondered, more to herself than to him. “You’ve been so kind to me—more than anypony ever has. I…how?”
“…marry me.”
Well, that was…unexpected, to say the least.
Luna pulled back, a confused look on her face. Sombra seemed completely serious.
“But…I am,” she said. “Eventually. It just…seems to be taking a long time to arrange, that’s all. But we will be married, eventually.”
“It’s…too long for me to wait,” Sombra admitted.
“But…my sister would never allow it!” Luna said, her mouth dropping open in shock.
“She doesn’t have to know,” Sombra said, sending another jolt of utter surprise through Luna. “I can make arrangements for as early as tonight. The only one who will know is the priest.”
“I…” Luna stumbled back, head reeling. She didn’t know what to think or to say, she was struck silent by what he was suggesting.
“Please, Luna,” Sombra begged, reaching for her. “Even if we must stay apart, just knowing that we are bonded would make it so much more bearable. The political marriage will still happen, of course, but that would just be fanfare.
“We’ll be married, Luna.”
The Princess blinked, still unsure.
The thought of defying Celestia sent a strange, not altogether unpleasant thrill through her, even as it made her afraid.
“Please,” Sombra begged.
“Yes,” Luna said, hardly aware that the word had slipped from her mouth. Sombra hugged her, laughing with joy, and she returned the contact, somewhat in shock.
Yet still, a smile crept over her face.
Her sister didn’t get to control her.
She could make her own decisions.
And really, what was the worst that could come from true love?
She felt distinctly uncomfortable. This wasn’t any fault of her environment—Luna's bed-chamber was small, but luxurious, and held a delicacy that seemed to fit the Moon Princess. Two of the three windows were covered by heavy curtains, but the third looked out onto the city below. The kingdom outside was mostly silent under the night sky; only occasionally broken up by the glow of a rowdy tavern, still open at this late hour.
The moon was nearly at its peak, signaling the approach of midnight. Celestia should have long since been asleep…yet still she paced, anxious and restless in this beautiful room.
Just why was she so anxious?
Celestia hated the answer to that question. She hated herself for worrying. She…well, no, she didn’t hate Luna. She couldn’t. She…didn’t know how to feel about her sister at the moment.
It’d been five days since their arrival at the Crystal Empire. As it turned out, Luna’s infatuation with the King was even more serious than Celestia had originally thought.
In fact, it was serious to the point of being downright dangerous. And Luna…well, she was so blind to it that she turned against Celestia’s hoof and marched away like a toddler throwing a tantrum. After that, Celestia had barely a chance to talk with her.
Something was decidedly wrong with her sister...something was going to be fixed tonight.
Celestia abruptly stopped pacing, flaring her wings. It suddenly seemed as if the walls were caving in around her, squeezing the breath out of her lungs and burying her in a pile of glass-sharp shards of crystal. She was itching to break through the window and soar away, far from this room and what would take place in it.
But…she didn’t, of course.
That would be ridiculous, not to mention completely inappropriate for a Princess.
This wasn’t the first time she’d felt that. The feeling of the walls crumbling in around her was a common one, a sensation that followed her everywhere she went and struck at the most inconvenient of times.
In time, she’d learned to control it; but now it seemed worse than ever.
Celestia folded her wings again, even if it was like bending an iron bar with just her hooves, then continued her restless pacing. Her mind ran through what she planned to say to her sister, spinning out endless scenarios for what could happen.
…Somehow, they always ended in darkness and despair. Not exactly the most healthy mindset for what she was hoping would be nothing more than a polite talk.
Luna was a reasonable pony—most of the time, that is. It would be fine.
…But oh, why was Celestia so nervous?
She could face roaring griffons, an all-powerful chaos god, even politicians—a remarkable feat within itself.
But why, why couldn’t she simply face her sister?
The Princess grabbed a passing windowsill to keep herself from wearing tracks in the carpet, which just happened to be the window currently open to the view of the warm, summer-like darkness outside. Celestia took a deep breath, letting her eyes flutter closed with the familiar movement.
It would be fine. They would talk reasonably and it would be fine.
The words repeated like a mantra in her head, drowning out the dark truth lurking in the shadows—the truth that Luna was a volatile, unpredictable young mare, dangerous to talk too.
It would be fine. Everything would be fine.
The Princess took another deep breath, feeling some of the ever-present tension in her shoulders relax. She now felt more confident about the situation and let her eyes wander out the window, tracing the subtle patterns in the stars above.
As they always did, the glowing points of light pulled a memory to the forefront of her mind; a memory that wasn’t altogether unwelcome, but certainly not helpful in the current situation. It was of a tall, slender, white-coated figure who’s pale blue mane wafted about as if blown by an invisible, ever-present wind. The image was fuzzy in Celestia’s mind, and the face itself was blurred beyond recognition, but Celestia could still remember the cutie mark.
Three pale yellow stars, surrounded by an aura of dark blue. The cutie mark of Queen Stellar...of her mother.
Celestia bit back a sigh, wishing she could recall more of The Queen other than the faint sensation of her voice and a cutie mark. The Sun Princess herself, unsurprisingly, had been closer to her father, King Solaris; and even his square, friendly muzzle was beginning to fade from her memory. But at least she could call to mind their encounters…and they were surrounded in an ethereal kind of light, enshrined in the glow of childish innocence.
However, her mother had been a familiar, beautiful, but distant presence throughout the stretch of Celestia’s foalhood.
Something like the stars were to her now.
The Queen had always known how to talk to Luna—it seemed only natural, they were both mares of the night, after all. That gene had clearly fallen flat when it came to Celestia, leaving her with agonizing insecurity and flimsy confidence in this moment.
“Mother…please help me now,” she murmured under her breath, unsure if she was speaking to her as a goddess or simply as a deceased ancestor. Whatever it was…the stars made no response.
Celestia turned suddenly from the window, yanking the curtains violently closed behind her.
For some reason, she could no longer bear to look upon the night sky.
A careful, quiet patter of light hoofsteps outside of the door jerked Celestia from her churning thoughts. She shifted nervously, turning to face the fragile slab of wood. It creaked open slowly, revealing the slender frame of Luna, who glanced back as she entered, therefore missing Celestia. The dawn-bringer took a deep breath.
“Luna,” she said sternly.
“Tia!” the Moon Princess jerked backward, pressing against the closed door with an expression that was both guilty and alarmed, “w-what are you doing in my room?”
“Waiting for you.” Internally, Celestia winced at her tone—she sounded like an enraged mother who’s teenager had missed curfew. "Do you have any idea just how late it is?"
“It's very late,” Luna said, raising her eyebrows in a way that gave a mild sting of annoyance to the older Alicorn. She looked so smug, as if she knew something that Celestia didn’t. “What’s it to you?”
“Come,” Celestia said, brushing away the irritation. She couldn't afford to be irritated at the moment. “We need to talk.”
Luna frowned, making Celestia bite her lip and realize she had no plans for what to do if Luna chose to defy her, as she looked very close to doing now. Would she simply turn around? Leave? What would happen then?
The young Princess heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes, but trotted forward reluctantly.
"What do you want?" she asked.
Celestia would have been relieved…if what was to come next wasn’t even worse.
She took a seat on the edge of Luna's bed, which was just as light and airy as the rest of the room, motioning for the Moon Princess to do the same. To her surprise, Luna actually obeyed, placing herself a few feet from Celestia.
The dawn-bringer eyed her sister.
Luna...was confusing. Her face was turned downwards, an odd expression on her face. Did she know what was happening?
....maybe she did. Celestia stifled a sigh of relief—this would make it...somewhat easier.
Celestia cleared her throat, then when that didn’t prompt anything from Luna, did it again, but louder. The Moon Princess’s eyes snapped to her sister, an, oddly, annoyed frown replacing the quiet stare.
“We…should talk,” Celestia said, unsure of how to feel about Luna’s current mood, “about King Sombra.”
“About Sombra?” Luna raised an eyebrow. “...okay, I suppose."
“We're leaving tomorrow, and there's an urgent conversation we must have before that,” Celestia said, forcing the words out past the lump of nerves in her throat. If Luna noticed that her sister’s voice sounded slightly choked, she made no comment. “Mainly because I assume that you’d prefer to do this face-to-face, rather than over some spell.”
“Do what?” the younger Princess asked, looking confused. She seemed to be completely missing what the conversation was supposed to be about.
Had she noticed anything during the week? Celestia’s constant glares, the hints that she should do something other than spend time with the King, had all of that flown over her head?
Goodness, she really was blind. Celestia had come with this conversation none too soon, it seemed.
The Sun Princess bit back a sigh, steeling herself to address the matter head-on. Luna needed to hear this.
It was for the greater good.
“You are very, very fond of him,” she said, trying to make her voice as gentle as she could.
“Well, of course!” Luna said, interrupting before her sister could continue. Her tone made it clear she was surprised by Celestia's addressing of the matter. “It’s only natural, right? We...are getting married.”
“Yes, I can see how that would be your mindset,” Celestia sighed, more to herself than to Luna. “Well, that is what I need to talk to you about. You need to stop.”
Luna flinched at the harsh words, though it seemed to be more of an automatic reaction, rather than saying that she understood the full meaning. Celestia forced herself not to mirror the movement—it had sounded so much gentler in her head than it did aloud.
“What do you mean?” the Moon Princess asked. She didn’t sound sad, or angry, just…confused.
“You have to let go,” Celestia tried, but it didn’t sound any softer. Perhaps there really was no way to voice it gently.
Maybe this wouldn’t go as well as she hoped.
“You’re very, very attached to him,” she rushed on before Luna could say anything else. “Too attached. And it’s dangerous—you know that. You’re young, Luna…and I know you haven’t had to face the danger of earthly attachments such as this. But you should’ve known better—you know that this is not our way.”
“What…I…how can you say this to me?” Luna stared at her sister with something between shock and confusion in her eyes. It seemed that the full meaning of Celestia’s implications were sinking in. “Is it a crime to be happy? Is it a crime to share a bond?”
“It’s not a crime,” Celestia assured her, feeling some of her initial worry seep back. “But it’s unwise—very, very unwise. As Alicorns, our sole duty is to protect Equestria. We are the guardians of all ponykind—and that is our priority. Not…love.”
“Priorities?” Luna echoed, eyes widening. “What is that even supposed to mean? He’s a king. This whole marriage is for the better of Equestria anyway! And it was your idea!”
“I know he is a King,” Celestia said, struggling to keep her emotions under control. “But he is also mortal. Time passes far too swiftly for us, you know that. The years will melt away before your eyes, and you will move on, staying youthful forever. He will be left behind, Luna. You know that.”
“That doesn’t matter!” the young Princess declared hotly, springing to her hooves. “At least, not to me it doesn’t! We will know and love each other in his lifetime, and I will have those memories wh…when I do move on!”
“Those memories will only make it worse!” Celestia pressed, rising from her own seat. “And it will matter, very much so, in fact. You’ll be left alone for the rest of eternity, Luna. Can’t you see what that means? You will linger, facing nothing but grief till the end of your days! He will die, Luna!” Now her own temper was rising. She was trying to remain calm, but she desperately just wanted Luna to listen to her.
Luna flinched at the near-shout, backing away as if she expected to be hit.
Celestia caught sight of the borderline terrified expression on her sister’s face, forcing herself to take a deep breath and calm down a bit.
“No more, please,” Luna whispered, her voice shaky. She glanced to the side, squeezing her eyes shut as if trying to hide the tears spilling out of the corners.
“The crown we bear is heavy,” Celestia said, trying to model her voice after the memory of her mother’s—regal, gentle, kind...understandable.
“Oh, why does it have to be mine?” Luna cried, flinging herself to the ground in a sudden fit. “Curse immortality, and all of the vile responsibilities it carries!”
“Cursing your duty will not make it go away, Lunaris,” Celestia said mildly—or at least, what she hoped was mildly—addressing her sister by her rarely-heard full name.
“I KNOW!” without warning, the younger Princess flared up again, like an angry, blue flame. She flung her crown from her head with enough force to shatter it and it would have been destroyed, had Celestia not caught hold of it in her magic.
Luna stared at the dawn-bringer, eyes smoldering with a strange, undecipherable flame. Celestia internally winced at hate broiling in her sister’s turquoise eyes.
“It is our duty, Princess Lunaris,” she said, hoping the sound of the Moon Princess’s real name would knock some sense into her. “We must bear it, whether you find it to your liking or not. Just as you must let go of your fantastical connection to the King.”
“…you would do that,” the words were not a question, they were a solid realization of reality. “You would be so callous, so cold, so unfeeling as to make us separate our hearts…yet still join in the bond of marriage?” The fire drained slowly from Luna, till she looked tired—very tired, almost as tired as Celestia was.
The Sun Princess had no response for her sister’s accusation. What could she say, anyway? No matter what was exchanged, Luna would still think of her in such a way. It was completely unavoidable.
And so, she was silent.
Seconds passed and with each one Luna seemed to shrivel before Celestia’s eyes, folding in on herself as if she wished she could disappear.
“Don’t think of it as a…marriage,” Celestia blurted, immediately wishing she’d kept quiet. Well, now she had to continue. “Think of it as another coronation. Just a title. That was all it was meant to be from the beginning.” She sighed. “I didn’t mean for you two to fall in love.”
Now, she knew she’d said too much. Luna’s face contorted, the pitiful beginnings of a sob tearing themselves from her throat. Celestia almost wished she could reach out and hug her sister, but…she would only be refused. Shame welled in her.
Slowly, Luna turned and left, trotting dejectedly for the door. It swung quietly closed behind her.
Celestia inhaled deeply, squeezing her eyes shut as her wings slowly flared open. She was exhausted—drained, empty. Her limbs trembled beneath her, threatening to give out at any second.
She felt trapped—trapped within these beautiful, cruel walls; trapped beneath the weight of the crown that forced her to do such things to her sister.
In tragic romance novels, heartbreak was always described as worse than what Luna felt now. Wasn't it supposed to be more acute, more piercing? Instead, there was this...dull ache in her ribs, as if she'd been struck with a blunted sword edge. A constant throb, pulsing with every step she took.
She’d never felt this before. Every tragic romance novel in the world could not have prepared her.
But what only made it worse was that she shouldn’t have been feeling it at all.
It was hard to imagine that only an hour ago, she had been happy and content, overflowing with love and joy. It seemed like a distant memory now, as if she’d been dreaming and had just woken up to the bitterness of reality.
Miraculously, the path Luna was currently taking through the crystal hallways remained empty and silent. In some corner of her mind yet untouched by pain, the Princess was grateful for this. She didn’t think she could bear wandering across another, who would no doubt comment on her distraught appearance.
She was very obviously distraught--it would take a blind pony to miss that. Tears streaking her face, head hanging low, ears flat against her neck…the ache was driving her mad.
She wanted to scream, to sob loudly, to let everypony know of her misery.
But…she didn’t.
The hall remained quiet--the only sound was the soft clatter of her hooves against the floor.
Her mind focused dully on the quiet repetition, mapping out words to the noise. Eventually, all the sentences running through her mind merged into one word: duty.
You have no choice.
All too soon, Luna reached the door to Sombra’s chambers…and that was when she realized she didn’t know what to say.
She couldn’t even justify this to herself, how could she do it for somepony else? Panic welled in her core, almost overpowering the stabbing pain still digging at her.
For a minute, Luna contemplated running. Turning tail and fleeing back to her chambers, leaving the matter unspoken.
Perhaps…perhaps she actually could get away with that. After all, how would anypony ever find out? Sombra didn’t have to know about the conversation that just took place…
Maybe this would work.
…Oh, who was she trying to fool? That was an unrealistic dream.
Somepony would find out, it didn't matter who. The news would spread till finally it reached Sombra's ears. He would be hurt, that much was certain. Hurt that she was hiding such a thing from him, that she was trying to distance herself while keeping up the pretense of being just as close as before. She didn't want to see him hurt...and knowing that it would be she who caused his pain? The idea was too much to bear.
You have no choice.
The young Princess took a deep breath, lifting a wing to wipe the remaining tears from her face, and finally worked up the fortitude to knock on the door.
It opened almost immediately, bathing her and the darkened hallway in a warm glow.
“Luna?”
The Princess’s heart gave another throb as Sombra’s face lit up at the sight of her, “Hello, my dear. I thought you’d gone.”
“Well, y-yes,” Luna stuttered, “I had. But now…we…well, we, um, we…um, w-we, um…” She cursed her stumbling tongue.
“Here, come in,” Sombra stepped back to admit entrance. Luna’s heart shrank further, but she trotted forlornly in.
“Now,” the King said, letting the door swing closed behind them, “what is—oh! Luna, you’re so pale. Is something wrong?”
“No,” Luna replied, wanting to throw up at the sweet concern in his voice. Just half an hour before, it would’ve made her blush and smile. Now it made her stomach twist into even more knots. “Well, yes. It’s…well…I’ve been thinking.”
“Yes?” Sombra took a seat on one of the decorative couches in the room, gesturing for her to sit next to him. Luna’s limbs moved automatically, lowering her slowly onto the cushions as well, even as the shards grew sharper and dug deeper. Sombra patted her hoof gently, giving her a smile that didn’t quite mask the concern in his eyes.
“Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be,” Luna whispered, wincing at every quaver in her voice. “Please.”
“Luna?” Sombra frowned. He tucked a hoof beneath her chin, slowly lifting her head. He was gentle, so sweet that Luna wanted to scream. “Oh, my dear, you’re trembling. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
“My heart’s been…” Luna trailed off. Her heart had been throbbing, aching, shattering, “…sinking. And…we…well, we can’t go on.”
“What?” Sombra’s worried frown shifted to one of puzzlement. “Is this some joke? Luna, I appreciate your sense of humor, but this isn’t very funny.”
“I wish it was a joke,” Luna said numbly, standing up and taking a few paces forwards, as if the air would be easier to breathe the further away she was from him. “But…we…can't love each other anymore. We have to stop.”
“…what?” Luna didn’t dare to look at Sombra’s face.
You have no choice.
“But what of the marriage? Both of them? Luna, what is happening?”
“Purely political,” the night-bringer said bleakly. “And…nothing else.”
“Oh, Luna,” the King said helplessly. “What did I do? Where did I go wrong?”
“No, please!” Luna begged, turning around and almost turning taking a step towards him. She barely managed to stop herself and the stallion stared at her hopelessly, as if he’d seen her involuntary twitch. “It’s not you. Don’t blame yourself.”
“Then who was it?” Sombra asked, an odd edge to his voice. “What was it? You were so happy…we were so happy. What could’ve changed your mind?”
Luna looked away, unable to take his piercing gaze. She bit back the name that hovered on the tip of her tongue, hoping against hope he would take her silence as a suitable answer.
“…Celestia.”
His tone made it clear he was not asking a question—he was stating a fact. Luna squeezed her eyes shut, as if closing them would make everything go away.
“It is her,” he pressed, “isn’t it? This was all her.” Apparently, he couldn’t just sit with the realization. He needed confirmation. Luna bit her lip, hard enough to pierce the skin. A trickle of blood ran down her lip, dropping to the floor below.
Yes, her mind screamed. It was her. I don’t want this. Don’t listen to her.
“…why?” Sombra sounded nearly angry. "Why would she do this?"
In spite of her best efforts, tears spilled from Luna's eyes, trickling down her face.
“I’m immortal,” she said, feeling her breath hitch. The next sob was strangled, coming out as a painful cough. “I’m going to outlive you. I…can’t do that,” her voice became a high whisper. “Please don’t make me do that.”
“But that doesn’t have to happen,” Sombra urged, sounding desperate. “There still might be a way. I don’t have to die! There has to be a spell, or—”
“No.” Luna shook her head. She should have been excited, eager to look for a solution, but she couldn't summon the energy. Her chest throbbed.
“Luna…please,” Sombra begged. “Don’t give up on me.” The Night Princess shook her head wearily, backing towards the door.
“I have to leave,” she said, hating herself for saying it. “Goodbye, Sombra.”
“Please!” the King’s last words echoed into the darkened hallway as the door swung shut.
Luna wanted to scream.
But all that escaped her throat was another gasping sob as she fled the hallway.
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