Equestria Was A Mare. It Was Always A Mare
At first glance, this year’s Grand Galloping Gala was the same as every other that came before it. Dazzling lights and delicate music enfolded the ocean of the Canterlot elite in constant conversation, all dolled up in their finest suits and most gorgeous of dresses as they came together to celebrate the founding of this great city once more.
And certainly, to almost every prestigious pony in the room, this evening would just be like any other evening. The founding of the city, reduced to another social event. Nothing more than a blur blanketed in frugal banter and fine wine.
Even so, Princess Twilight Sparkle silently looked on with a smile as the grand festivities steadily unfolded before her eyes, stopping only to take a sip or two from the glass of wine she had been levitating by her side. She was dressed up for the occasion in yet another one of Rarity’s many masterpieces—a charmeuse gown richly hued in a deep and dazzling shade of dark violet, the colour pairing very nicely with her gilded horseshoes and her almandine-encrusted crown. One would think from her radiance and glamour that she would be subject of everyone’s attention, that all the ponies in the room would be falling over each other to have the chance to talk to her.
But of course, even though she may quite possibly be the most important pony in the room, Twilight remained content with taking up the familiar role of an impassive observer. It wasn’t as though she was averse to the company of the nobility and gentry—she was happy to engage in small talk with any guest that had mustered enough courage to approach her. No, the incoming ruler of Equestria just felt no immediate need to mingle with this crowd of strangers, especially when they seemed to be enjoying themselves already. To her, the contentment of her guests was crucial, first and foremost. Her participation might stifle that.
And so she watched from afar the aristocrats in their chattering circles, satisfied at a gala well organised. She chuckled at herself, recalling how she spent the past few weeks agonising over the idea of making this year’s function more interesting, only to have her responsibilities be relegated to Spike instead when she almost tore upon a rift into another dimension while deciding what colour the tablecloths should be. Were it not for Princess Celestia interfering in time, Equestria would certainly be floating in some tessellating hexahedral mesh by now.
Part of Twilight was disappointed at herself for needing her mentor to step in and help her out anyway, especially after all those months of learning the inner workings of royalty from her. There’s only so long that she could depend on Princess Celestia, Twilight knew that. Now, however, with her and Princess Luna officially retiring and departing for Silver Shoals in a matter of weeks, the realisation was really starting to sink in.
That these days were finally coming to a foreseeable end.
Twilight tensed up. She had caught a leveled stare from across the room, her form instinctively standing to attention as the other mare broke away from conversation and began striding towards her. The silk of her sky-blue dress billowed like a springtime breeze, flashing at times the yellow of sun-kissed chiffon sewn underneath. Without further ado, Twilight took a few steps forward herself to meet the other pony in the middle, the clink of wine glasses well met music to her ears.
“Congratulations on a gala well hosted, Princess Twilight.”
“You’ve been congratulating me all night, Princess Celestia.”
“That’s Celestia to you, first of all. You need to get used to that,” the soon-to-be former princess tutted with a grin. “Second, I wouldn’t be doing it if you weren’t so susceptible to my praise in the first place, Twilight. Even now, you’re blushing as we speak.”
“I can’t help it, you know that!” Twilight squeaked with laughter, trying her best to wave the scarlet off her cheeks. “How are you finding everything so far?”
“Delightful as they come, which isn’t saying much unfortunately.” The two alicorns quietly giggled between themselves. “I will say though, the shortcake definitely helped with smoothing out the overall experience. Seems even as I’m on my way out, the royal chef strives to impress.”
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear that.” Twilight surveyed the crowd, making out a few familiar faces in between, only to realise one particular pony was missing. “Where’s Princess Luna?”
Celestia shook her head. “I was hoping you’d know where she is,” she said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she had left early. Luna was never really fond of these sorts of things anyway.”
“I should look for her,” Twilight opted. “It’s her last gala, after all. She should at least make it a memorable one, spend it with us. Any idea where she might’ve gone?”
“The gardens, most likely. That’s where I’d usually find her by the end of the night.” Celestia stopped Twilight briefly with a tap on her shoulder just as she was about to set out. “Word of advice, if I may Twilight, don’t feel the need to hurry back with her. Take as much time as you need.”
“Okay? Sure, I guess.” A pause. “Is something wrong?”
A shake of the head. “Nothing of that sort. You’ll understand when it happens.”
Perplexed but determined nonetheless, Twilight soon excused herself from the ballroom, parting from the glitz and glamour to venture into the earthly dark. The cool air of the night lacquered her cheeks as she made her way across the grass, guided only by the moon in full bloom.
She found the Princess of the Night in a dress several sepulchral shades shy of navy-blue, strolling down the dirt path adjacent to the outer walls of the hedge maze and slowing down at times to appreciate the potted blossoms placed along the way, before stopping at one particular thicket of flowers near the end of the route to admire at length. Her Highness must’ve noticed her at some point, as Twilight didn't even take two steps in her approach before the other alicorn turned to her and greeted her with a nod of acknowledgement.
“Princess Luna.”
“That’s Luna to you, Twilight Sparkle.”
“Luna,” Twilight sheepishly corrected herself. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“At my sister’s behest, I presume.” Luna smiled. “Tell my sister she need not fret. I’ll return to her side once the gaggle has dwindled some.”
“Of course, though I’m starting to think that she sent me here to keep you company.” Twilight shot a glance back, trying and failing to spot her mentor from among the cluster of silhouettes spilling from the distant windows. “I take it you’re not a fan of the reception?”
“The gala, it’s an exorbitantly embellished charade, all of it.” Luna turned her snout up and away from the unwitting guests. “I have no intention of participating, lest I become beguiled by their masquerade. One wonders how my sister has the patience to put up with them.”
“Experience, I’d hope.” Experience that Twilight wished would one day come to her.
She shifted her gaze back to the bush of flowers Luna had been admiring earlier. They were as white and plentiful as the stars themselves, their petals evenly unfurling into pallid trumpets that sang in silent chorus to their twinkling counterparts high up above. “What were you looking at?”
“Daturas. Though you may be more familiar with their common name.”
“Thornapples,” Twilight answered with a nod, remembering how Applejack would curse them as she ripped these weeds out of the soil whenever she came across them around her farm. “Aren’t they poisonous?”
“Oh, very much so. I suppose you find it strange that the royal garden would include such a curiosity among their collection.”
“Mmmmaybe?”
“You most certainly are,” Luna retorted, making Twilight chuckle. “I’m told it was a misunderstanding. Foolish, maybe. Hazardous, certainly. Still, an amusing misunderstanding all the same. These flowers were a gift from my dear sister, you see. To celebrate my coming home.”
Twilight glanced back to the daturas.
Back at Luna’s studious expression.
Back to the daturas.
“Yikes.”
“Indeed,” Luna concurred with the tiniest of grins. “My sister had thought to surprise me with a bouquet upon my return. Thus, she decided to take it upon herself to place an order for some moonflowers in preparation. Alas, at the time, she did not know that the daturas shared a common name with the flower she intended. It certainly didn’t help that they somewhat looked alike either, so she never thought to specify the species when she placed the order, which led to this innocent mistake arriving in its place instead.”
Twilight couldn’t decide whether to laugh or squirm in embarrassment. “It must’ve felt awful receiving that.”
“The opposite, quite actually,” Luna said, hiding a soft laugh behind her hoof. “I had a fun time teasing my sister over it. I swear, Celestia can be absolutely careless on the most mundane of matters at times, so much so that I sincerely wonder to this day how she was able to rule all of Equestria in my absence for such a long time. It must’ve taken a miracle, frankly speaking.”
“Maybe it’s the same thing she had to figure out with the gala. Just years and years and years of experience. You know what they say, Canterlot wasn’t built in a day.”
Luna smiled, just as a particularly resonant spell of uproarious laughter swelled from the palace. “That much is certainly true.”
The Princess of the Night turned her gaze to the stars, prompting Twilight to do the same. Like many times before now, it didn’t take long for the younger alicorn to indulge in her foalhood sensibilities as she lost herself in the vast splendour swirling over her.
Twilight settled onto the dirt despite her dress, allowing herself to be captivated by the cosmic tapestry before her. She took her time to learn them again. Every glistering sequin she could find, every jeweled whirlwind she could name, every lacelike cloud flowing in between, all of it. Committed to memory.
“Do you like it?”
“Mmm…” Twilight exhaled, only to leap back into herself when she remembered that she wasn’t alone. “Wait. No! I mean yes! I-I mean, of course I do! It’s great! It’s beautiful!”
“I’m honoured to hear that, Your Highness.”
“Hm? Oh! Right! Yes. Uh-huh?”
Luna smirked at her. “You should get used to being referred to by that soon.”
“Heh, yeah, I—” Twilight drew her lips together, stretching them into a thin crooked line. “I, uh, don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to that, to be honest.”
“There are just some things you’d unfortunately have to get used to,” came a rebuttal soft and somber. “Some of them are obvious. For one, the crown, the duty and responsibility that came with it, these are things one needs not a throne to grasp. No, it’s the ones that slowly creep up on you, that only dare show their faces in between. Those are the insidious ones, Twilight Sparkle. Those are the ones you have to look out for.”
Luna turned to once again face the darkness in between the stars.
“There’ll come a day where you might find yourself inclined to make some sacrifices in favour of your position. That you may think to adopt some behaviours in service to the crown. And while some of it may be true, know that not every sacrifice is equal. Not every sacrifice is worthwhile. Know that you are your own princess first and foremost, and that the land you rule can only be as much as you give yourself.”
Twilight nodded, glowing in the wake of those words. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the advice.”
“Oh?” Luna looked surprised, though Twilight could espy the faint shades of amusement stenciled in between. “I wasn’t aware that what I had given you was advice.”
“It’s not?”
“It was more so a warning. Though I suppose one could constitute it as advice. Perhaps not advice that would come from me, at least. My sister however, most definitely. I hear she’s prone to making such maudlin declarations in your presence should the opportunity arise.”
“Maybe?” Twilight began to laugh the longer she thought about it. “Okay, yeah, I can see why somepony would say that about her.”
“She can be persuasive with them regardless. I should know.” Luna gazed back at sky. “As for myself… well now, I wonder what dispositions I might have had.”
“Maybe—and this is, you know, just a thought here, by the way—but maybe you can give me some of your own advice yourself?” Twilight suggested, “You know, advice about the future from here on out. Preferably about what might be waiting for me once I’m on the throne.”
“I… I suppose I could try.” Luna stopped to ponder for several seconds. “Something like ‘always read the fine print’, perhaps. Does that suffice?”
A tremulous giggle spiraled from the confines of Twilight’s throat. “Maybe something a lot more comprehensive than that. Something that’s a lot more you.”
“A lot more me?”
“You know, advice that only you can give.”
“I see,” Luna murmured, furrowing her brows in deep thought as she took her time to consider those words.
Slowly, the seconds turned to minutes. The stars watched them in their dainty silence. Twilight’s eyes scurried down to the blades of grass bending at her hooves. She held her breath, some part of her beginning to wonder if she had asked too much of Luna without realising it. Those worries, however, were quickly set aside when she heard a dulcet hum in the air, prompting her to perk up and find the Princess of the Night with a rosy grin, as though she had emerged from her bowels of introspection glimmering with enlightenment.
“Tell me something, Twilight Sparkle, was there anything you’ve ever regretted not doing?”
There was a weight that came with the question. Twilight could hear it in the ridges of time and memory. The echoes of a most remarkable Summer Sun Celebration.
She could see it too. A candlelight, flickering brightly in the cyan of Luna’s eyes. Yet it did not seem frail or forlorn as she had expected. Rather, there was a vivacity in it. A mischief. As though this was all according to plan.
“I have more than a couple, I think,” Twilight played along. “What brought this on?”
“Do you know what an aisling is?” The shake of her head prompted Luna to elaborate. “It’s a type of poem. One not unlike the ballads composed by the troubadours of old. It speaks of a dream. Not just any kind of dream, mind you, but one where the dreamer is paid a visit by the land they reside in.”
“The land they reside in?”
“Equestria. Our country. Made manifest.”
Twilight blinked. “I… okay?”
“It all sounds horribly conceited, that much I agree.” Luna chuckled warmly at her baffled expression. “But I wouldn’t be indulging such fantasies if I had not seen them myself in my visits to the dream world. And I’ve seen a fair few of them.”
“What was it like?” Twilight asked. “Equestria, I mean. What was it like?”
“Equestria was a mare. It was always a mare.” Luna looked to her moon. “Sometimes, it’s a mare I do not recognise, perhaps a face from a past long forgotten. Sometimes, the mare resembles my sister. Sometimes, the mare resembles me. Yet regardless of who it was, this mare would talk about the troubles that plague her. She would speak on and on and on about every imperfection that has marred her. And before I go on, I must admit, listening to her complaints time and again is certainly a test of one’s patience.”
Twilight smiled in agreement. “I can imagine.”
“By the end, however, things change.” Luna brought her gaze back down to earth, meeting Twilight’s curious own. “This mare, Equestria, will speak of the days ahead of her. She would sing of a better time coming, and of how her citizens will rejoice as they emerge from the bitter darkness they have toiled through. That hope shall come regardless.”
“Huh.” Hope shall come regardless. Those words sounded like the beginning of a song that would be stuck on repeat in Twilight’s head. “So what does this have to do with regrets?”
“I had a dream like that once,” Luna professed, much to her surprise. “Equestria, I suppose. Coming to me in the form of a mare bright and beautiful, one whom I did not recognise initially but would eventually become familiar with. She confided in me her many worries, her anxieties of every striking hue. The volume of them plaguing her was remarkable, so much so that even as we neared the end of our conversation, I fear they remained frightfully abundant. Yet when she was done, she would still make time for me to share my own afflictions. And in that time, I shared many, perhaps as many as she shared with me. And she listened. No matter how dark, no matter how distressing, she listened.”
It was here that the deepest sigh of the night burst forth from Luna’s lungs, one rich in what Twilight could only understand to be awe and admiration.
“Yet in spite of that. Somehow, in spite of all of that, she made the same promise in the very end. That she will soon be better. That in turn, I will be better. That we will all be better. Hence, my regret.”
Before Twilight could inquire any further, Luna trotted up to her and, without any hesitation, wrapped the smaller alicorn in a tight hug.
Twilight immediately tensed up. Her cheeks seethed red. Her petrified stare was trapped in the space between the stars hanging just above the fur of Luna’s shoulder, though every so often it would skip back towards the Princess of the Night as she tried and failed to catch a glimpse of anything more than her cheek.
“P-Princess Luna?”
“That’s Luna to you.”
“Luna,” she hastily corrected herself. “What are you doing?”
“Hush.”
Twilight did as she was told. Trapped in the embrace of the night with nowhere else to go, she allowed herself to submerge into the softness surrounding her, the warmth. The rhythm of her breathing crumbled alongside her form, her every exhalation shaky as it was quiet, but as her eyes steadied to a close, she found herself listening to Luna’s instead. She found herself guided by it, a shepherd leading her to the calm waiting at the end of a winding road, and in a matter of seconds, she was breathing once more.
And then Twilight heard, in the dark behind her, a whisper.
One that sounded more like a sob.
“I should’ve done this sooner.”
Twilight bit her lip when she realised what was happening. She craned her neck downwards as much as Luna’s hug would allow her, burying her forehead into the other mare’s shoulder blades. “How long?”
“Long enough.”
Twilight brought her own hooves around Luna’s neck. “I… I’m sorry… I didn’t know…”
“Don’t be. I had never intended for you to know.”
“I’m sorry, Luna,” Twilight gasped regardless. “I-I’m sorry, I—if I knew, I would’ve—” she paused to swallow the shivers scratching at her every word. “Maybe we could’ve worked something out. Maybe we could’ve, I—”
Luna pulled her away from her embrace, providing Twilight reassurance in the form of a cordial grin. Her turquoise gaze was shimmering with serenity, as though the pain and sorrow that had been rattling her earlier was rinsed away. She reached down to clasp Twilight’s hooves in hers, disentangling them from her neck and lowering them down into the narrow gap between their chests.
“But you can’t.”
Twilight’s breath hitched. Her lips quivered. “But I c-can’t.”
Luna carried their joined hooves up again, this time tucking them upon Twilight’s chest. Her grip was tight, whether to gain strength or to give it, Twilight couldn’t be sure.
“There’s somepony else.”
“There’s—” Twilight was torn between nodding and shaking her head. “There’s somepony else.”
“I know.”
Luna was smiling.
Somehow, Luna was smiling.
“It’s okay, Twilight. I’ve always known.”
“This feels cruel,” Twilight couldn’t help but protest. “I’m sorry, Luna, I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but it’s just… I can’t, it’s too cruel.”
“It’s necessary, Twilight Sparkle. Sometimes, what might seem cruel may be the kindest thing you can do.” Luna closed her eyes and leaned down to rest her forehead against Twilight’s own. “Don’t ever feel guilty about all that had transpired here this night. Remember, I wanted this to happen. I wanted it to end this way.”
“B-But—”
“No more of that now. This is my regret. This is how I wish to drown it. All I ask of you now is to honour it, and to help me do one last thing for me.”
Knowing that no amount of fussing would ever change her mind, Twilight resigned with a limp nod.
Thus, came one last gentle request: “In time, you will find, as your days on the throne goes on, that you will feel lonely. You may think that such a thing is normal, that loneliness is part and parcel with the royal crown. But know that it never does. Know that no pony in history, princess or otherwise, has ever deserved to be alone, for nopony ever does.”
Luna withdrew her hooves, only to reach back out and place them onto each of Twilight’s shoulders.
“Do not allow yourself to be alone, Twilight Sparkle,” she continued, almost pleading. “Do not make the same mistake that I did. Seek comfort, should you need it. Tell yourself that you deserve it. Force it upon yourself, if you must. And when you find it, keep it. Keep them close. For there is no greater comfort than knowing there’s somepony in your life who wants to take care of you.”
One last smile. One last question.
“Can you do that, Twilight Sparkle? For me?”
“Yes,” Twilight readily answered in spite of her sniffles. “I-I can. I will.”
To those words, Luna smiled in place of a verbal gratitude, before rising onto her hooves and setting loose one last feverish sigh upon the stars.
“I wish you two the best of luck.”