Millennium Alone
“Though reliable written records from the period remain scarce, comparing the 384 SE map of Equestria to the Griffonian charts from 509 SE supports the hypothesis that the fifth century of the Solar Era was a time of great prosperity in Equestria. Ponies were generally wealthier and happier than ever before[3]. This surplus is therefore speculated to be the primary factor leading to the founding of Canterlot in 433 SE.”
– “Brief History of the Solar Era”, 4th edition, 987 SE
“Nothing of note happened this year.”
– Personal diary of Princess Celestia, entry for 437 SE
“I used to find my inspiration in seeing your beautiful Sun reflect in gold and silver every morning. The metals would sing to me of what they wanted to become. Ever since Canterlot sprouted from the mountainside and deprived me of this sight, the quality of my work has dramatically declined.”
“It saddens me to see that our new icon of hope brought sorrow to one of my subjects,” Princess Celestia said with a concerned expression. “Equestria is a wondrous place, is there nothing else that could serve as inspiration for your craft?”
“All those wonders pale in comparison with the sunrise that you so graciously bestow upon us every day. Please, Princess, –” the stallion bowed “– jewelry is as much of an art form as it is a craft.”
“I see.” The Princess nodded slowly. After a moment of silence that nopony dared to interrupt, she asked, “Do you consider yourself an expert? Answer honestly, fake modesty is often worse than boasting.”
“Yes,” the jeweler said, raising his head. “I’ve spent all my life working with precious metals and gems, and I’ve apprenticed with Diamond Dogs and Minotaurs before returning to Equestria.”
“Contrary to what you might believe, I can’t move the entire mountain. You, however, can move to Canterlot if you wish to continue your craft. You won’t find a sunrise more beautiful anywhere else. Here, show this to the pony in charge of the Silver District.” She levitated a scroll to the jeweler.
“Thank you, Princess, that’s incredibly generous of you. But…” he hesitated.
“Hmm?” Princess Celestia raised a brow.
“I lack any ties to nobility.” He shook his head. “Even if some of them have heard of me, it would take years before they would begin to officially acknowledge my work. I’m an old stallion, Princess, I don’t want to be forced to smith horseshoes again.”
Princess Celestia looked around at the nobles who gathered in the courtroom. They were silently observing and judging her every move for centuries. They weren’t the same individuals as the first advisors she appointed three hundred years ago, of course, but in the grand scheme of things that didn’t matter much. Especially when, in the recent decades, she found it harder and harder to remember names and faces. She ignored them for a moment, adjusted the crown lying on her head, and addressed the earth pony in front of her, saying, “I understand but I hope you reconsider. I’ve long wanted to replace this ostentatious chunk of metal. If you move to Canterlot, I would like to order a replacement from you… a tiara, perhaps?” Surprised whispers from the back of the room convinced her that her plan had been successful.
As the jeweler realized what exactly her offer meant for his future in Canterlot, his face lit up with a wide smile. He bowed low. “A commission from our good Princess herself? I’d be honored!”
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Princess Celestia, silencing the gossiping nobles with her soft voice. “Something tells me you’ll find plenty of work in the city,” she added, dismissing the artisan with a subtle nod.
For a moment, she was sure that she saw a certain pink-maned alicorn filly in the crowd.
Before leaving the courtroom, the jeweler rose to his hooves and said, “I cannot thank you enough! I promise that instead of one tiara, I will make two – one for the Day and one for the Night. It’ll make everypony remember how much we all owe you, Princess of the Sun and Moon, for your illustrious rule, regardless of the time of the day.”
Princess Celestia quickly turned her head away. She hoped that the commotion caused by the jeweler leaving the room masked the sudden change in her expression. Luckily for her, the earth pony was the last audience scheduled for the day. And the nobles, who otherwise always stuck around trying to earn her favor with pointless platitudes, left mercifully quickly as well, following closely behind him, outbidding each other with ever more extravagant orders.
…
The Princess watched as Canterlot’s newest star was led to a nearby cafe where somepony procured a quill and a ridiculously long scroll. She stared silently at the scene below for a few moments, then turned to her aide and asked, “Could you reschedule the rest of my plans for tomorrow? I need to think some things through.”
“Of course, Princess. Would you like me to call in some of the royal advisors?”
“Thank you but that won’t be necessary,” she said with a polite smile plastered on her face. “I’d rather be alone today,” she added with the slightest shakiness in her voice.
“As you wish.”
The aide left the courtroom, leaving Celestia alone with the alicorn filly. The Princess stood up from her throne and sighed. “I haven’t changed much after all, have I? Fake smiles wherever I go, that’s who I am.”
Instead of responding, the filly trotted to the window and pointed at the cafe where the jeweler was still surrounded by numerous nobles. The day was heading to an end but – judging from the size of the group – it’d take hours before everypony finished ordering what they wanted.
“If I’m choosing to help by abusing the respect of my subjects, isn’t it even worse?” Celestia asked with her eyes closed. “I’ve been repeating the same mistakes for centuries.”
Her horn glowed and the Sun outside finished its voyage for the day, hiding behind the western horizon. In its place, the full Moon rose higher up until it reached the middle of the sky. Celestia turned away from the window with tears in her eyes. “How foolish I was to think it’d get easier with time. Ten years, a hundred, four hundred…”
The filly walked closer, concern painted on her face. “Why do you insist on making the wait so hard on yourself? You’re surrounded by wonderful ponies who’d do all they could to help you,” she said.
“Indeed, I am,” Celestia said bitterly, “Unlike a certain pony who’s now paying for my mistakes. It’s all my fault; I must carry this burden alone.”
“Luna wouldn’t want that,” the filly’s soundless voice wistfully reverberated in the Princess’s ears, “and it won’t bring her back a day early.”
“She didn’t want to be banished to the Moon either, and yet I did just that.” Celestia tried to fight back the tears welling up in her eyes; she failed. Her crown fell to the floor with a metallic clang.
“Luna, oh Luna,” she cried out, “I’ll find a way to make things right, I promise.”
But just like the previous thousand times she made that promise, there was nopony who could hear her.
“NO!” Luna shouted as she darted into the air. Fueled by hatred and pain, she was faster than any pegasus could dream of being. Her wings turned into a blur and her dark mane left a shadowy trail. Faster and faster she accelerated, leaving the ground far below. A smirk crept across her face. Centuries of practice were paying dividends. Perhaps this time… she thought.
Suddenly, her escape was stopped by an invisible force she was all too familiar with. Ghostly manacles bound her legs and wings, dragging her back to the moon. Moondust blew away from the spot where her body hit the surface and yet another small crater was created next to a thousand others. The anger she felt drowned out the pain and all other emotions. For a moment she didn’t even care about being humiliated anymore.
“Savor your little victory while you still can, sister,” she hissed, raising herself from the ground. “Your spell will break, and so will you.”
“Is that what you really want?” she heard a familiar voice.
“Yes!” Luna glared at the blue alicorn filly sitting on a nearby rock. “Look at what she’s done to Us! All We wanted was the respect We rightfully deserved. Not anymore, now We will turn her life into a nightmare she won’t ever wake up from. Then We’ll finally be even.” She grinned.
The filly shook her head. The whites of her teal eyes were reddened. “I know you’re hurting, but this isn’t the way to heal.”
She was interrupted by a burst of hollow, sinister laughter. “And helplessly crying every day and night is? We are Nightmare Moon,” said Luna, “and she will pay dearly for every second of Our exile.”
“I… I’m sure she thought that what she was doing was for the best.” The filly looked up at Equestria.
“The best?” Luna said with a scowl. “For herself, perhaps. Now she can rule all on her own, without a useless sister getting in her way. She can be the undisputed star of every gala she organizes, partying and laughing at the Moon. But not for long, not for long.”
The filly flew up and looked Luna in the eyes. She pleaded, “You have to remember that she’s not like that!”
“Do We? We once thought We did.” Luna’s voice wavered. For the shortest moment, her coat became lighter, regaining some of its former blue color. She shook her head, turning her back to the filly. For once she was glad that nopony could see her here. “We won’t make that mistake ever again!”
“Then why do you still spend every night covertly guiding the dreams of ponies?” The little filly desperately raised her voice. “If all you care for is revenge, why aren’t you sending them nightmares? What does Nightmare Moon stand to gain from that?!”
“Leave Us,” commanded Luna.
The Princess of the Night sat down on the cold and empty surface of the Moon. With a bitter smile on her face, she pondered the irony of what she just said. There wasn’t a single pony left to care about her. Not even herself.
Luna looked up. The happiness and love coming from Equestria, her home, reached far and wide but here, on the Moon, she could only sense an echo of it. To her, it was like a hail of glass shards pricking her skin. A single tear hit the ground. “Sister, why?” she called out into the endless void of the night sky.
But just like the previous thousand times, her question hung unanswered in the air.