> Chasing Stardust
>  by Wuten
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> A Nightmare Night Reunion
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The crisp autumn evening air carries the scent of spices and mulled cider as you shuffle along the lamp-lit streets of Ponyville. All around you, festive decor adorns shop windows and doorways–twinkling jack-o-lanterns, paper bats fluttering on strings, and cheerfully macabre scenes depicting smiling ghosts and other innocuous symbols.

It's Nightmare Night in this quaint little pony village, the annual celebration when everypony dons spooky costumes and gorges on sugary treats well into the wee hours. You can already hear the squeals of delight as tiny hooves prance from door to door, demanding sacrifices of candy and sweets from the households.

A gaggle of fillies and colts swarms past in a blur of frills, capes and mismatched accessories. One particularly rambunctious filly–her bright orange mane only partially contained by a haphazard witch's hat–nearly bowls you over in her headlong rush. "CanDY CANNNNDYYYYYY!" she shrieks joyfully, a dervish of sugared chaos.

Chuckling to yourself, you stride on towards the center of town where the main festivities sprawl. The town square has been utterly transformed into an autumnal fantasyland. Carved pumpkins by the hundreds cast their flickering, toothy leers from every available perch. Garlands of crispy leaves and twisting vines adorn the pavilion where local bakers peddle their wares of candied apples, spice cookies and other saccharine temptations.

And there, presiding over the entire celebration with stoic majesty, looms a masterfully crafted effigy of Nightmare Moon herself. The scorned alicorn glowers from on high, chiseled features ominously cast in shadow. A shiver of delicious unease trickles down your spine just staring up at her terrible, fanged visage rendered in such vivid detail.

Still, despite the air of gleeful spookiness, you find yourself appreciating this festival's emphasis on innocuous, family-friendly frights. Back in your younger days, Nightmare Night often proved a time of... well, actual terror, thanks to the efforts of more malicious spirits. You shudder, banishing those unpleasant memories in favor of simply enjoying this quaint town's festivities for the evening.

A hush gradually ripples across the ebullient crowd, their raucous cheers and chatter subsiding into expectant murmurs. Something's happening...

"IT'S NIGHTMARE MOON! RUNNNN!" you hear a shrill squeal reverberating across multiple buildings in the small town of Ponyville, and then you see the source; a pink earth pony mare, clad head-to-toe in feathers of her chicken costume, galloping with a bunch of young fillies and colts as fast as their little legs can carry them.

As you stand amongst the gathered crowds in the town square for Nightmare Night, the sky begins to darken and howling winds cause the decorations to thrash wildly. In the sky, you spot what looks to be a chariot pulled by batponies flying at a breakneck speed, before slowing to a hover just above the town square. A hooded pony leaps down from the chariot, throwing her head up to toss the hood behind it, revealing the visage of Princess Luna at last, her midnight coat and sparkling mane glistening under the moonlight as her coat flutters away as glamored, magical bats. Her eyes gleam as she addresses the cowering crowd in her booming voice. "CITIZENS OF PONYVILLE!"

Ah, that Royal Canterlot Voice, it never lets her down... except, probably now, that is. "WE HAVE GRACED YOUR TINY VILLAGE WITH OUR PRESENCE SO THAT YOU MIGHT BEHOLD THE REAL PRINCESS OF THE NIGHT!" she bellows; you idly wonder how she's managed to not shatter any windows so far.

"A CREATURE OF NIGHTMARES NO LONGER, BUT INSTEAD A PONY WHO DESIRES YOUR LOVE AND ADMIRATION!" she continues, eyes closed; she doesn't seem to notice that many of the ponies are attempting to scoot back and away from her. "TOGETHER WE SHALL CHANGE THIS DREADFUL CELEBRATION INTO A BRIGHT AND GLORIOUS FEAST!"

"Did you hear that, everypony? Nightmare Moon says she's gonna FEAST ON US ALL!"

The ponies around you cower and scream, hiding behind barrels and stampeding in panic. Joy collapsing into bewilderment, Luna can only watch as her subjects flee in terror from their princess. "HALT, PONIES OF PONYVILLE! WE MEAN THEE NO HARM THIS NIGHT!" Her plea reverberates through the emptying square.

Ah, sweet, sweet irony. At least the mask and long cloak you're wearing for Nightmare Night seems to be working? No one's really questioned the sudden appearance of a towering creature with hands instead of hooves that just blew in from the west, but you figure they probably think you're just a unicorn with a very elaborate costume setup.

"Now now, my little ponies, it is no time for fright!" you attempt to corral some of the townsfolk and bring them back out of their hiding spots. "For Princess Luna has graced us with her presence on this Nightmare Night!"

You turn back towards the princess and dip a low bow. "An honor it is, to see royalty here," you continue. "We... assume thou bring nothing to fear?" Shit, you're falling back into your own 'royal we' from centuries ago; dial back the archaisms and rhymes, Anon!

She studies you with a curious look, head tilting slightly at your words. "We sense no malice from thee, strange creature." Luna's gaze narrows, taking in the details of your elaborate 'costume.' "Though we must confess, thy guise is... most perplexing."

Her wings give a slight ruffle, ethereal mane shimmering faintly. You can't help but admire how majestic she appears, even when so clearly bewildered by your presence. Those ancient eyes search yours with a hint of recognition, as if she senses something… deeper. "We humbly request that thou make plain thy nature to us." Luna arches one regal brow. "State thy business in our fair borough this eve."

Around you, the fleeing ponies have started to peek out tentatively from their hiding spots, drawn by curiosity at your exchange with their princess. Clearly they wonder what sort of creature could be so unfazed by Luna's imposing Royal Canterlot voice and presence.

You feel dozens of eyes fixing upon you, waiting with bated breath for your response. Time to tread carefully, lest you reveal too much about your true identity and origins. "Merely a traveler, nothing more," you smile behind your mask, gesturing to yourself with a hand. "Passing through this fair town to set up shop in Canterlot, that's what I'm here for," you chuckle lightly, though internally you're slapping yourself across the face; stop rhyming you fuck!

As you utter those words, Luna's eyes narrow, a slight frown creasing her features. The little ponies peering out watch with bated breath, wondering how their princess will respond to this strange 'traveler'.

"Prithee, speak plain," Luna says sternly, giving your disguise an appraising look. "We perceive thou art no mere peddler or vagabond."

Damn, she's sharper than you recalled. Then again, you muse, glancing sidelong at the curious onlookers, this is Luna you're dealing with–the Princess of the Night itself, blessed with insight to see through deceptions and illusions like a dagger through silk.

Her tail swishes behind her, wings giving an impatient flutter as she waits for you to elaborate. Every inch the imperious monarch expecting full candor from her subjects. "We bid thee unmask thyself before us," Luna commands, leaning down to stare you square in the eye through the slits of your disguise. "Let us look upon thy true visage, stranger."

A bead of sweat trickles down your neck as her gaze bores into you. The townsponies watch with rapt attention, some whispering frantic speculations to each other about just what manner of beast lurks behind the mask. To reveal yourself now, a human amid ponies? Your old betrothed would surely recognize you... but can you truly defy a royal decree?

You swallow hard, hooves–er, boots–rooting to the cobblestones as Luna's penetrating stare demands you make a difficult choice.

"Aha... right... but is that not the point of Nightmare Night?" you rub the back of your head nervously, hesitantly taking a step backwards. "To don costumes and masks and... enjoy treats of delight?" STOP IT, ANON, STOP RHYMING.

Luna's piercing gaze holds you frozen in place like a fawn cornered by a timberwolf. She sees right through your feeble attempt to deflect with that silly rhyme. "We perceive thou dost deflect with japes and jests," the Princess huffs, taking another step closer, wings spreading slightly in an unconscious display of intimidation. "Surrender now thy guise, knave, or suffer our royal displeasure."

A tremor runs down your spine at the subtle threat in her tone. Clearly the millennia have done little to diminish Luna's imperious streak. Those ancient eyes narrow dangerously, hooves pawing at the ground as she waits for compliance.

All around, the wary ponies watch with bated breath, no doubt wondering if their Princess will have to bring the full force of her power down upon this strange, uncooperative creature masquerading as some gaudy performer or vagabond. You can see their tails twitching anxiously, bodies tense and ready to flee at the first sign of violence.

Your mind races, trying to formulate a strategy to defuse the increasingly volatile situation without revealing too much about yourself. One wrong move and Luna may very well tear off your mask by force to unveil the truth.

Heart pounding in your ears, you take a steadying breath and force yourself to meet Luna's imperious glare head-on. "Your Highness," you begin, struggling to keep your voice level and placating. "I assure you, there is no deception at play here. 'Tis merely an... eccentric guise, in keeping with the spirit of this evening's revels." Good job not rhyming, Anon; that was definitely not helping the 'deception' angle.

It's a definite gamble, though; there's not much you could do against one of the diarchs of Equestria. You spread your arms in a disarming gesture, taking care not to make any sudden movements that could be misconstrued as aggression.

"Surely, one as enlightened as yourself can appreciate a harmless folly on this night of celebration and mirth?" you venture, praying the flattery might soothe her royal hackles. "I meant no offense, merely to... revel in the magic and mystery of the eve. If it pleases you, I shall gladly remove this 'guise' once festivities have concluded."

Luna narrows her eyes at your feeble attempt to placate her curiosity. The midnight blue alicorn steps even closer, wings unfurling to their full intimidating span behind her. "We detect a faltering in thy tongue, creature," she intones, looking down her muzzle at you with that haughty demeanor so characteristic of nobility. "Art thou certain thou wishest to test our patience further?"

Uh oh. You swallow hard, feeling dozens of wide-eyed stares from the gathered ponies burning into you. There's no easy way out of this jam. If you continue to deflect, Luna may very well resort to more... forceful measures to unmask you.

Those ancient eyes bore into yours, a slight sneer curling her lips as the Princess's famed impatience starts to show. With a quiet sigh of resignation, you reach up your hands (causing a few gasps from the tittering crowd) and grasp the edges of your disguise.

"Very well then, Your Majesty." With that, you tug the mask and cowl free, letting your hood fall back and mask drape down your neck.

A stunned hush falls over the town square. Slack-jawed gapes and gawking galore as the ponies behold your very human visage for the first time. Some faint, others shriek in terror, still more recoil as if struck.

Luna herself takes an involuntary step back, those wings flaring wide in shock and alarm as she beholds... you. 









Soft moonlight filters through the bedroom window, bathing you and your lover in a silvery glow as you lay tangled amid rumpled sheets. Luna's ethereal mane ebbs and flows lazily, spilling across the pillow like a starry river. Her cheeks are flushed, chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath.

"Thou hast a rather... voracious appetite this eve, my dearest Anon," she murmurs throatily, giving you a sidelong glance through half-lidded eyes.

A roguish grin tugs at the corner of your mouth. "What can We say? Thou bringest out the beast in Us, my Stardust."

Luna snorts indelicately at that, one slender wing unfurling to drape itself possessively across your torso. "A beast, art thou? Mayhap we ought put that to the test on the next full moon."

She nuzzles her muzzle against the crook of your neck, drawing a shiver as you feel the warmth of her breath ghosting across your skin. Those feathery wingtips trail lower, teasing along the contours of your abdomen in a way that has your pulse quickening once more.

"Unless of course..." Luna purrs, leaning in until her lips are a mere hair's breadth from yours. You can taste the sweet pollen on her breath, smell the intoxicating scent of night-blooming jasmine. "Thou findest thyself too spent from our amorous exertions to sate this insatiable mare's desires?"

A delicate hoof traces patterns along your inner thigh as she awaits your response, leaving you struggling not to squirm beneath her touch. The hungry gleam in Luna's turquoise eyes promises wonders untold.

"Thou art incorrigible, even by Our standards," you playfully swat her hoof with a hand, before pulling her in close, pressing a small kiss to the crook of her neck. "Seven days... seven days until we are wed at last. No more need for secret trysts, nor coy deflections in court of our affections, simply..." You let out a small sigh, draping your arms around her withers. "Us. The royal Princess of the Night, and her ever-esteemed Royal Consort."

A gentle wing drapes itself across your chest as Luna studies your features, pupils dilating ever so slightly. There's an almost predatory glint in those turquoise depths, one you've come to know signals the awakening of her baser desires. Her royal composure cracks, if only for a fleeting instant, offering a glimpse of primal hunger lurking beneath.

"Incorrigible, are We?" the Princess murmurs, tilting her head as she considers your playful rebuke. "Perhaps 'tis thou who doth inflame our passions beyond tempering, beloved."

Her sultry tone sends a delicious shiver racing down your spine. Luna leans in close once more, the tip of her pert nose brushing yours in an equine's approximation of a kiss. You can't resist reaching up to run fingers through the shimmering strands of her ethereal mane. Like silken stardust, it slips through your grasp, utterly weightless yet possessing a strange, cosmic gravity that draws you inexorably nearer.

"Seven days feels a veritable eternity away, Our heart's flame," Luna sighs wistfully against your lips. "Though We shall endeavor to abide the tiresome pomp and ceremony, if only to hasten the eve of our blessed union."

As she speaks, her words take on an oddly formal cadence, as if reciting some grand proclamation. The back of her hoof strokes lazily along your side in a meandering path, leaving a tingling trail of warmth in its wake. Despite her prim royal diction, the Princess's touch remains smolderingly intimate, belying the baser intentions simmering beneath that cultured facade.

"Whereupon, Sir Anon," Luna continues, her smoky voice lowering to a sultry purr. "We shall waltz the night celestial, thou and Us, bared both in flesh and spirit alike..."

She punctuates that vow by leaning in to claim your lips with hers in a fervent, open-mouthed kiss. The velvety warmth of her tongue brushes brazenly against yours in a tantalizing promise of carnal delights to come. Rainbows of stardust swirl and eddy through Luna's ethereal mane as her ardor rises. When at last she breaks the kiss, her chest rises and falls with quickened breaths. A certain vivid hunger burns behind those hooded eyes. "Seven days and seven nights of rapturous bliss to revel in, untroubled by aught but our own quenchless desires."

Your lips curl into a knowing smirk as Luna's smoky words hang thick in the air between you. Of course she couldn't resist adding that extra flourish, that little extra drizzle of royal piquancy to her seductive overtures. It's one of the things you find so utterly endearing about your lunar paramour–that effortless blend of feral desire and cultured nobility she exudes.

"Mmmm, how delightfully decadent those words sound upon thy lips, my Stardust," you purr, idly stroking the silken fur along her jawline. "Though We do wonder if the reality shan't far outstrip the sweetest of thy heated vows, once thou art well and truly ours before the eyes of the realm." You let that salacious suggestion linger with a wolfish grin. Luna's pupils blow wide, dark pools swallowing those turquoise irises as her nostrils flare. The tip of her tail swishes from side to side in a clear tell of simmering anticipation.

With exaggerated nonchalance, you affect a prolonged stretch, toned muscles rippling beneath your skin as you extend your limbs in a slow, languid motion. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the Princess tracking the movement with naked hunger writ plain across her features.

"Why, We daresay our soon-to-be nuptial bliss could very well birth new stars into the firmament," you continue in a tone of wry musing. "Or perhaps craft new rivers and seas with the sheer... abundance of our joined devotions." A rich chuckle rumbles up from your chest at Luna's visible shudder. You can practically see the gears turning behind those half-lidded eyes, imagining all the delirious, sweat-slicked delights your words promise.

"So yes, sweet moonbeam," you conclude, rolling onto your side to better regard her with an expression of pure, unabashed lust. "Seven days and seven nights sounds a delightful way to commence our marital rapture."

You pause, taking a moment to slowly rake your gaze up and down Luna's lithe, equine form. "Though in truth," you add in a low, heated rasp. "We highly doubt even a solid fortnight would prove sufficient to sate this beast thou hast so thoroughly roused within Us..."

You can practically see the firelight dancing in Luna's widening eyes as she takes in the full import of your sultry insinuation. The Princess shifts her weight upon the downy mattress, a tremor rippling through her withers as she visibly struggles to maintain her regal composure. Yet that lascivious glint in her turquoise gaze betrays the rising tide of primal want roiling just beneath the surface.

"Ah, so the beast doth bare its fangs..." Luna husks, pausing to wet her lips with a dainty swipe of her tongue. You track the motion, utterly transfixed. "Pray tell, sirrah, how dost thou intend to slake this thirst thou hast so artfully whetted?"

With that provocative challenge laid bare, the Princess arches her lithe frame in an unconscious display of equine allure. Those feathery wings extend in a slow, languid sweep, ethereal mane tumbling in a starry cascade to pool about her hindquarters. For a breathless instant, Luna holds the pose–poised, regal, yet utterly dripping with sensual promise.

You swallow hard against the sudden aridity in your throat. Celestia's sun-blazed radiance couldn't hold a taper to the smoldering heat now radiating from your lunar lover. Not trusting your voice, you slowly lean in, tangling your fingers through those silken sky-strands... 









"It's... good to see thee again, O Stardust mine," you pause, leveling your gaze with her. You look... perhaps four or five? Years older than you did the night you left. Aside from the increased height and calm demeanor, you're the spitting image of yourself from a thousand years prior.

Princess Luna feels her heart stutter in her chest. Those ancient, fathomless eyes go wider than fullmoons themselves upon beholding features she knows all too intimately. Features indelibly etched into her psyche across a millennia's worth of endless nights.

It cannot be... 

"Anon..." The name ghosts from her lips as little more than a tremulous exhalation, barely audible over the murmuring hubbub of bewildered onlookers. "Is that truly thee, mine own heart's flame?"

For the span of several suspended heartbeats, the Princess simply stares, rendered utterly insensate by the impossible sight before her. Anon–HER Anon–stands revealed at long last, as if the bygone centuries had been a mere wink of slumber. That tousled hair trimmed ever so neatly in that roguish, disheveled style she'd always loved to run her hooves through. Those intense eyes, burning with an inner fire brighter than a thousand stars. And that lantern-jawed visage; the very countenance that had graced her most blissful dreams and darkest nightmares alike these thousand years past.

Without conscious thought, Luna finds herself drifting closer, one trembling wing outstretched as if to cradle your cheek. A kaleidoscope of fractured memories come flooding back in a torrential tide.

Your tender smile that fateful night you met in the palace gardens. The reverent brush of your lips against hers as you shared your first, faltering kiss. Your first passionate tryst by the light of the setting moon, hooves and hands entwined, whispers and sighs echoing off the hills. Your eventual union before all the realm, love sealed before the stars themselves.

And of course, that shattering betrayal on the night that should have been your most joyous of evenings.

Luna rears back, shaking her head as though to rouse herself from that maelstrom of reminiscence. All at once, those fragmented shards of remembrance coalesce into a singular, razor-tipped emotion, slicing through her being with all the force of a broadsword.

Fury. Incandescent rage whips through her veins like liquid starfire.

"'Twas thee..." the Princess snarls, fanged muzzle contorting into a feral rictus as the full gravity of those nights without end come crashing down upon her. "'Twas thy heedless forsaking that cracked Our heart into splinters and set Us on this path of ruin!"

Her mane blazes and writhes like a serpentine corona; pinpricks of light sputtering into existence amidst those ethereal strands. A concussive boom akin to thunder reverberates through the square, scattering debris as the first tendrils of Nightmare magic begin to seep into Luna's aura like black ichor.

"The pain of Our abandonment... the bitter agony of unworthiness that consumed Our heart in those benighted years!!" she screeches, arcane power gathering in billowing swathes around her withers. "And all the while, thou breathed freely whilst We languished in solitary torment?!"

The townsfolk scatter and flee in earnest at this point, panicked whinnies filling the air around the seething Princess. But Luna is blind to it all, her senses narrowed entirely upon this singular point of unimaginable anguish and betrayal made flesh before her.

"Give Us one good reason," she hisses in a tone dripping with menace, plumes of darkness now roiling from her mane and tail, "why We shouldst not unmake thee here and now, thou wretched wraith!"

You watch as Princess Luna's eyes blaze with fury, her mane and tail whipping about like living serpents of night itself. Thunder booms, and the air grows thick with suffocating darkness gathered around her regal form.

This is... not quite how you envisioned your reunion going.

Luna's voice drips with venom as she snarls those incendiary words, demanding justification for your millennial vanishing act. Her feathered wings flare wide, ethereal radiance now swallowed by roiling swathes of Nightmare energies. This is the raw, untamed power of an immortal goddess made incarnate. You can practically taste the ozone crackling through the air.

'One good reason', she challenges. Her eyes narrow to slits, promising untold agonies should you fail to convince Nightmare Moon's re-emergence is unwarranted. The ponies around you cower and flee in abject terror.

Your heart pounds like a drum in your breast as you struggle to formulate a response. What CAN you say to soothe the fury of a spurned alicorn so wronged by your selfish pursuit of immortality all those centuries ago? One false syllable, and it's quite likely Luna will tear you asunder down to your composite atoms with her boundless cosmic might.

You lick your dry lips, fighting to maintain a steady tone as those smoldering turquoise eyes bore into your very soul. "I... My st-" No, a long-winded appeal will only further rile her up. You swallow hard and opt for brutal candor instead. "I wronged thee most grievously, this truth cannot be denied. I forsook the realms of ponykind in blind pursuit of that which I held most dear–the dream of eternity by thy side."

A tremor runs through Luna's form, but you forge onward, pressing a hand to your chest. "Yet I speak naught but sincerest truth when I say every waking moment across that endless desert of years was a torment in itself. To be denied thy radiant light and warmth, my guiding star across that infinite–" you pause, holding up a hand to stay the tirade you sense building behind Luna's tightly clenched jaw.

"I KNOW my selfish exodus set in motion a cataclysmic circle of grief and suffering set to echo throughout the epochs." Your voice drops to a hoarse whisper as you hold her turbulent gaze. "If unmaking me is the only path to atonement thou deemst worthy, then let it be so... but I beg of thee, seared into thine immortal psyche as my countenance clearly remains: know that not a single tick of my hourglass has passed these thousand years removed from my enduring love for thee, sweet moonbeam. Make of that meager remembrance what thou wilt."

You steel yourself for the oncoming onslaught. Whether dematerialization by entropic force, immolation via lunar hellfire, or some wilder, more severe eldritch torment... you'll accept it with grace. After all, it would only be the infinitesimal penance owed to the one you so profoundly betrayed.

The air itself seems to tremble under the sheer force of Nightmare Moon's fury. Tendrils of eldritch night snake through her whipping mane and tail as she glowers at you, turquoise eyes blazing hotter than the corona of a sun. This is no mere physical manifestation of rage–you can feel the weight of eons of heartbreak and bitterness suddenly crashing down upon you like a tidal wave.

Princess Luna–sweet, gentle Luna, the very spirit of the night itself–regards you with a look of such searing anguish and hatred that you find yourself reflexively recoiling despite your resolve. A snarl curls those delicate lips, exposing a hint of gleaming fangs amidst her draconic snarl.

"Thou hast wounded Us deeper than any blade could rend, foul wretch," she spits, each word dripping venom. "Thy honeyed tongue may as well be serpent's venom for the agony it hath wrought upon Our soul!"

A stray arc of black lightning sizzles through the thunderhead storm of Nightmare energies billowing around her imposing form. Those wings–a cosmic tapestry woven of stardust and moonlight–flare out in an unconscious display of barely-leashed power. You watch, gut clenched, as Luna fights for mastery over the dark forces swirling malevolently through her essence.

For an endless, harrowing moment, the Princess simply trembles there in silence, nostrils flared, chest heaving with ragged breaths as her inner duality wages ethereal war. Her eyes squeeze shut, the very air around her seeming to bend and warp under the strain. Then at last, that dreaded darkness retreats–though not entirely. When next Luna's gaze falls upon you, there's still a lingering tinge of Nightmare simmering in those azure depths.

"We ought flay the flesh from thy wretched bones for the torment thou hast subjected Our heart to across this benighted millennium," she hisses in a voice gone hoarse with raw feeling. "Every waking moment an unending hell of abandonment, betrayal and self-recrimination without surcease! Thou hast DESTROYED Us, Anon! Shredded Our very soul asunder with thy fleeing!"

You stand there, unflinching, as Luna's scornful tirade pummels you with the force of a cosmic storm. Each lash of her tongue is a razor-sharp recrimination flensing deeper and deeper into the raw wound of your shame. By all rights, you should cower, beg her forgiveness on bended knee for the grievous sins committed.

Yet something unyielding within you refuses to simply roll over and accept her wrath uncontested. You are Anon, once the beloved of this peerless mare and consort true of the Night Court itself. Though you fled like a craven wretch all those centuries ago, it was in pursuit of a solution–the ability to stand as her equal unbounded by mortality's cruel constraints. A dream unforgivably poorly realized, but born of naught but the purest desire to spend eternity at her side.

When at last Luna's raging torrent of rancor ebbs, you meet that Nightmare-tinged glare with an inscrutable look of your own. "I hear thee, Princess. Loud and clear as the night itself doth thy condemning words strike this penitent heart." You suck in a sharp breath, straightening to your full towering height in an unconscious display of human pride.

"I'll not rebut nor downplay the severity of my grievous error. On that fateful eve, I did in truth deliver the unkindest cut a lover could inflict upon their heart's true mate." Your jaw sets stubbornly, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at your sides. "Yet I bid thee hold that righteous, withering contempt for but a moment and hear me out. If still you deem me deserving of thine utmost wrath upon hearing my tale, then so be it. I shall weather the judgment without complaint, whatever form it taketh."

You hold her baleful stare for a pregnant few seconds, awaiting some signal to continue. Whether it's a curt nod or simply the absence of her unleashing terrible vengeance upon you in that instant, you'll take what you can get. For if there exists yet one flickering spark of the profound love you once shared, surely it's worth pursuing till the bitter end?

Luna's blazing glare holds you rooted in place like a field mouse pinned beneath the imperious stare of a hungry falcon. That azure inferno blazes undimmed, the lingering taint of Nightmare energies swirling in those turquoise depths like a vortex of cosmic rancor.

Yet for that briefest of instants, the Princess's features flicker–a minuscule crease furrows her brow, those winged nostrils flaring. Outwardly it's scarcely a reaction at all. Yet some instinct within you (perhaps the byproduct of centuries spent studying Luna's every nuance) detects the briefest waver in that otherwise impenetrable facade.

"Speak then, thou louse. Unbridle thy forked tongue and spew forth thine rationalizations and weavings of hollow justification." Despite the acidic words, Luna's tone lacks some of the visceral venom from before. "But heed well my warning: naught but the whole unvarnished truth shall even begin to sway Us from meting out thy deserved punishment."

The Princess settles back upon her haunches, wings furling ever so slightly into a posture more poised than outright aggressive. Her tail lashes once in agitation, that eternal mane writhing in cosmic slow-motion. Yet for all her outward bluster, she seems to begrudgingly accept your request for an audience, if only for a moment.

All around, you become vaguely aware of the townsfolk cautiously peeking out from behind wagons and market stalls. More than a few fillies and colts can be spied trembling in their frilly Nightmare Night costumes, no doubt disappointed by the interruption of their favorite holiday festivities. One particularly brazen young filly with a scattering of freckles even pokes her muzzle out to gape at you with unabashed curiosity before an older mare quickly yanks her back into hiding.

It would appear Her Royal Majesty's wrath has drawn quite the audience. All eyes–equine and otherwise–are presently riveted upon you, awaiting your words with rapt expectation.

Your throat constricts as you swallow hard. How to even begin explaining the agonizing yet noble motivations that launched you upon your ill-fated exodus a millennium ago? One misspoken phrase, the slightest misstep, and you'd likely find yourself swiftly and painfully unmade for your seeming effrontery.

Yet as you meet Luna's smoldering stare, that familiar connection rekindles deep within your soul. Her eyes alone hold whole galaxies' worth of emotion and memory. Love, heartache, longing and fury swirl together in those hungering cosmic pools.

For an infinite beat, you're transported back to that pivotal, fateful eve... 









The flickering torchlight casts an amber glow over the cramped study, elongating the shadows that lurch across the towering stacks of esoteric tomes surrounding you. Pushing away a teetering pile of salt-stained scrolls with a weary sigh, you rub at your strained eyes and glance forlornly at the hourglass on the corner of the desk.

Most of the grains have already slipped away into the bottom chamber. Once more, night has fallen over the royal library while you fruitlessly toiled away, seeking... what, exactly? Some mythic key to cheat mortality itself?

A humorless chuckle escapes your lips as you contemplate your increasingly obsessive pursuits. Ever since stumbling across that dusty old text detailing the zebra alchemists of the faraway Farasi Kingdom, your restless thoughts have spiraled down a maddening path.

Immortality origins, plausibility, varied methodologies–you've perused them all in the scant few weeks since hatching this perhaps-foolhardy notion. Finding a way to shed your mortal coil and spend eternity by Luna's side has become your singular obsession.

And why? She's already a blessed Alicorn, granted perpetual life and cosmic power by the very whims of fate itself. Surely your union should be cause for unmitigated celebration? Yet you can't seem to shake this... nagging insecurity.

How long until your sweet Luna grows weary of her increasingly decrepit partner? The notion alone fills you with cold dread. You care not for wealth, power or prestige–only for her glorious radiance to forever illuminate your soul as it has all these passing years. And what cruel fate awaits should you be parted by death's icy talons?

Nay, you cannot abide such a cruel injustice. If these 'Farasi' truly hold the alchemical keys to everlasting life, you absolutely must seek them out. No risk is too great if it culminates in the capacity to stand as Luna's immortal equal, after all.

She'd certainly understand, though so close to your wedding... five days away. Once you would be wed, you'd have no chance of seeking them out; your duties would be to the royal court and to your beloved. And certainly if you were to tell her, she'd try to dissuade you from this path.

You wrack your brain, pouring over the archaic glyphs, losing yourself once more in study. For Luna, you would spare no effort–endure any hardship and sacrifice any comfort, if need be.

After all, what good is a lifetime of love if it cannot span the endless tides of eternity?

The torchlight casts dancing shadows across the dusty old tomes surrounding you in the library's study nook. With a furrowed brow, you lean in closer, squinting at the faded zebra hieroglyphs on the yellowed pages before you. What secrets might they hold about achieving your heart's fervent desire?

Your eyes narrow as a familiar glyph catches your attention amidst the esoteric scribblings. That rune unmistakably represents 'longevity' or 'eternity' from what you can recollect of your studies. Stifling an eager gasp, you pore over the accompanying inscriptions with rapt intensity.

"Mmm, most intriguing..." The words tumble out in a hushed murmur as you stroke your chin thoughtfully with one hand. "The text speaks of a mystic draught, distilled from the nectar of a rare desert bloom. Said to 'grant the imbiber reprieve from death's icy clutches' according to the translations."

A slight furrow creases your brow as you reach the bottom of the page. "'Course, it also notes the nectar must be harvested under the light of a solar eclipse to properly catalyze the infusion. And from the look of these star-charts and celestial calendars..."

Your voice trails off into a contemplative silence as you flick through several richly illustrated pages covered in bizarre zodiac symbols and cosmic diagrams. At last you let out a soft 'ah-hah!' and tap one star-marked chart with emphasis.

"It seems the next such eclipse won't grace this realm for another... seven-thousand days." You blow out a weary sigh, scrubbing one hand over your face. "Just my luck–embarking on a potential decades-long quest a scant few days before my own bloody nuptials!"

You gaze at the star charts with dismay. Seven thousand days until the next eclipse–nearly two full decades. Far too long to reasonably postpone your impending nuptials without raising Luna's suspicions.

A wry chuckle escapes your lips. Of course the path to immortality would prove nigh insurmountable, requiring a quest akin to somepony's gran'pony tale. You shake your head ruefully, absentmindedly stroking the cover of the weathered tome. What to do, what to do?

Then, like a bolt of inspiration striking your caffeine-addled brain, the answer crystallizes. You don't NEED Luna's blessing, nor can you postpone the wedding itself without arousing her curiosity. No, you'll simply take your leave immediately under some pretense.

"An extended diplomatic tour of the outlying fiefdoms, perhaps?" you muse aloud. "Or maybe finally pursue mastering dream-walking like we'd discussed? Yes, yes... that could well provide cover for my absence without drawing undue suspicion."

Emboldened by this solution, you quickly rise from your seat. A few hurried strides carry you across the study to the arched windows overlooking the courtyard. There, gilded in the silvery caress of Luna's night, the magnificent Castle of the Two Sisters looms–a breathtaking monument to the Diarchy's power and glory.

You feel a slight pang in your chest as your eyes trace the distinctive spires and towers. This mighty edifice is far more than simple stone and mortar. It stands as the living heart of Equestria itself–the epicenter of your beloved Luna's benevolent domain. Soon it shall officially become your home and dominion as well.

The longing to remain by your lover's side wars with your intense yearning to gift her with the ultimate token of undying fealty. You would brave any hardship, defy any cosmic obstacle, all to ensure an eternity of rapture in her radiant light.

"For you, my Stardust," you murmur, gaze lifting to that lustrous full moon burning amidst the diamond-dusted tapestry overhead. "I shall cross realities themselves if that's the price to pay."

With a sigh of finality, you turn and stride from the library, already plotting the weavings of your deception. Most ponies would balk at the very notion of deceiving their betrothed. But they do not possess your advantage of perspective–sometimes a little white lie can bear universes' worth of joy in the everlasting future.








"And so I left," you explain, "Not out of wishing to spurn our love, but to gift you that which you were most deserving of: a love that is truly, truly eternal. Not mere platitudes of 'love everlasting' but a true, tangible thing!" You fix your gaze with her. "For what is a millennium in the life of one who is immortal? You are here, now, standing before me, just like I am you."

Princess Luna regards you with an inscrutable expression as you finish your impassioned explanation. For several moments, an almost palpable tension hangs in the air between you, thick as a morning fog.

You can't help but drink in every detail of her visage, cataloging each familiar curve and angle etched by time's indelible touch. Those regal features you know as intimately as the cosmic map of her starry mane. The slight quirk at the corner of her mouth as she processes your words. Those ethereal eyes blinking slowly, pinpricks of teal flame flickering within their very depths.

"So..." Luna's melodic voice breaks the fraught silence at last, regal head tilting inquisitively. "'Twas in pursuit of immortality itself that you forsook Us those many centuries past? To stand eternal vigil at Our side as Our... consort everlasting?"

A muscle twitches almost imperceptibly along the feminine line of her jaw. Despite the apparent evenness of her tone, you sense a simmering turmoil roiling just beneath that carefully cultivated exterior. Something dark and turbulent, like the eddying currents preceding a maelstrom.

"And thou didst succeed in this brazen quest?" The Princess leans in a bit closer to scrutinize you from beneath a slightly furrowed brow. "Forsooth... We admit to being somewhat dubious. Thy mortal visage appears scarcely altered since our last... tumultuous parting."

She pauses, one feathery wing giving the barest of agitated flutters as her piercing stare grows almost accusing.

"Yet speak truly, knave–hast thou in truth unlocked the secret to infinite longevity? Or doth some fouler deception tak'st root here?"

You swallow hard, painfully aware of the dozens of nervous ponies peeking out from their hiding spots to gape in wide-eyed wonder at this unfolding spectacle. No matter how you respond, it would seem all of Ponyville is bearing witness to this pivotal reunion.

"Yes, I've succeeded," you nod. "Though it is not a permanent measure of immortality, I've secured a method; one that does not require dark pacts or eldritch arcanas. That far-flung land of Farasi... within the halls of its royal palace, I found the answers I sought."

You unclasp the buckle from your satchel, reaching in to grasp one of the vials you've brought with you. You'd hoped that you would be able to share this in the privacy of the royal court, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Holding it in your hand for Princess Luna and the ponies immediately around you to see, you grasp upon a glass vial of a shimmering amber liquid. "Sun orchid elixir," you declare. "Capable of returning to and maintaining one's youthful form for a full twenty years."

Princess Luna's winged brows knit together as her smoldering gaze fixes upon the vial clutched in your hand. You can practically see the gears turning behind those ancient turquoise eyes. While she regards the glass phial with obvious skepticism, it's clear the alicorn is at least momentarily willing to indulge your outlandish claims.

"Sun orchid elixir..." she echoes in a measured tone, the words rolling off her tongue with that distinct Canterlot lilt. "How didst thou happen upon such an obscure draught all the way in that far-flung zebra kingdom?"

Luna inches a bit closer, muzzle twitching faintly as she examines the amber liquid sloshing gently within its crystal confines. For a fleeting instant, her regal mask slips–you glimpse a hint of childlike curiosity flash across her elegant features before that imperious poise reasserts itself.

"Regale us with thy tale, Anon," the Princess murmurs. Though her tone remains clipped and cautious, you detect the slightest undercurrent of... wistfulness? Resignation? It's difficult to parse, truly. "Spare no detail in recounting thy self-imposed exile from Our realm. For We must admit..." She hesitates, then continues in a slightly softer cadence. "A full millennium's breadth hath weighed heavily indeed."

With a silent flutter of those cosmic wings, Luna lowers herself onto her haunches. Her tail swishes idly, almost expectant, as she regards you with an inscrutable look. All around, the gathered ponies seem to hold their collective breath, ears perked towards you in rapt attention.

It would seem Her Majesty's Lunar Court is now in session, with you poised to give testimony. One false syllable, one misstep in phrasing, and she may very well find you in contempt. Yet... you also sense a flicker of optimism–a desperate yearning for an explanation that might cauterize the deep wound your disappearance inflicted upon her heart.

A chance, no matter how faint, to reconcile the grievous schism in her soul that fateful night etched.









The clanging echoes of ceremonial gongs reverberate through the ornately decorated throne chamber. Twin columns of zebra warriors in resplendent obsidian plate stand at stiff attention, flanking the regal pathway leading toward the raised dais where four imposing thrones sit vacant in four perpendicular corners of the circular room.

Your heart pounds in your ears as you stride forth, hands clasped behind your back in a purposeful display of composure. Despite your outward calm, the beads of sweat prickling along the nape of your neck betray your inner trepidation at petitioning the royal family. Two years of preparation... one misplaced step, one breach of etiquette you've studied so intently, could see you jailed or worse.

At last you reach the center of the throne room and execute a low, sweeping bow, movements measured and deliberate. "Royal brothers and esteemed custodians of the royal court," you intone formally. "This unworthy traveler seeks indulgence to petition the wisdom of thy support." You've spent your travels practicing your rhymes; you knew that would go a long way for their trustworthiness if you did so.

For a heartbeat, utter silence reigns within the cavernous throne room. Then, a subtle stir from one of the four empty seats draws your gaze.

"A petitioner humble and bold, his plea We shall unfold." The baritone voice booms from one of the thrones as its previous occupant simply... fades into view. A towering, muscular zebra draped in ornate golden robes, bedecked with glittering jade and turquoise. Prince Azante, master of traditions. Tilting his regal striped head, he regards you with unblinking amber eyes.

"Within our storied realm there be, few as well-versed in courtesy." This time, the speaker materializes upon the throne to your left–a reclining figure swathed in shimmering veils the color of a desert sunset. Prince Marazho, master of deserts. Despite his diaphanous nature, each silken layer seems to contain a faint, shifting pattern reminiscent of tiny hieroglyphs. "Well met, thou well-spoken shade," the zebra rumbles in a smoky alto. "Thy purpose plied, let it now fade."

Another flicker of motion claims your peripheral vision. Another prince, adorned in layers of fine linen and draped with strings of ivory shark teeth, leans forward to appraise you with a lupine grin. "This seeker driven by desperation's tide," he intones with a chuckle. "Quest most fateful doth herein reside." Prince Zhevaka, master of the hunt.

Finally, the last of the four royals shimmers into view in a swirl of midnight plumes. His imposing frame is cloaked in darkest onyx, offset by subtle embroidery in pale moonglow thread. Prince Nohanze, master of night's secrets. "For immortal secrets here be won," the ebon-furred ruler declares solemnly. "Or a life forever undone."

Their rhymes flow in an almost hypnotic rhythm, challenge and promise intermingled in equal measure. Immortal secrets await here, they say. Or perhaps utter ruination for those ill-prepared? Well, you've come too far to balk at such dramatic overtures.

With a deferential dip of your head, you raise your left hand open and accept their ultimatum.

"If immortality be the prize to claim, then steep any cost in its relentless flame," you declare, pitching your voice to carry through the vaulted chamber. "For Our quest is steeped in purpose most true–to gift the greatest love this world doth knew."

You punctuate the statement by dropping to one knee, right hand pressed to your chest in a symbolic vow. For a beat, the only sound is your own hammering heartbeat thrumming in your ears. A series of inscrutable looks pass between the four princes, their judgments unspoken yet tangible in the fraught silence.

At long last, Prince Azante leans forward, muscular frame creaking faintly in the throne. "An earnest soul beset by love's cruel plight," he rumbles in that deep baritone voice. "Stands before us this eventide night." His amber eyes seem to bore straight through you, gleaming with flecks of inscrutable starlight. "Yet to unlock the vaults of endless life, a sterner challenge must outweigh such strife."

A subtle shudder courses through the assemblage at those cryptic words. You can't help but swallow hard, all too aware of the stakes riding on these regal brothers' judgment.

Prince Marazho drapes himself languidly over the armrest of his throne, vaporous veils shimmering hypnotically. "One most tenacious to seek our mystic arts," he drawls in that smoky alto. "Yet still green as the moss on forest hearts." The lithe royal quirks a bemused look at his kin before returning his half-lidded scrutiny to you. "While admirable in ways vast and small, so too is the hubris lurking to ensnare all."

Next, Prince Zhevaka lounges back against his throne of polished bone and embroidered linen. His grin remains fixed and unwavering as he considers you with an almost predatory gleam. "A bold soul drunk on dream's decadence, ye be. Though paved in bliss, the path is thorned sea to sea."

You can't repress a slight shiver–not of fear or intimidation, but at the primal spark burning in the prince's pale orange eyes. As if he could scent the churning tempest of your desires like a lion scenting blood.

All the while, the eldest prince, Nohanze, regards you with an inscrutable and decidedly disquieting silence. Those onyx depths give no quarter, no sliver of emotion or judgment to guide you through these treacherous straits. He is the sea of night itself–glassy, fathomless, and capable of dragging you under into oblivion with nary a ripple.

Prince Azante leans forward, his musculature rippling beneath ornate robes and jade adornments. "Thy quest is noble in its underpinnings, we admit," he rumbles, fixing you with that piercing amber glare. "Yet danger most dire lurks in equal measure, a heavy price indeed you'll be forced to acquit."

You incline your head respectfully, unmoved by such dramatic proclamations. "Then let the toll be levied, good Prince, that We might settle accounts whole. We shall not let this stand in the way of Our goal."

A flicker of what might be amusement ghosts across Marazho's vaporous countenance. With a sinuous motion, he unfurls from his lounging repose to drift closer, shimmering veils trailing in his wake like an aurora's afterglow. "Bold words from a sprightly soul so untested," he murmurs, smoke-shrouded tones carrying an undercurrent of dark promise. "We shall see if that ardor can stand bravely invested."

As the lithe prince settles at the very edge of the dais directly before you, Zhevaka leans in with a sound that almost sounds like a pony’s nickering. "This desert flower prove too thorny for thy tender dispositions?" he challenges with a smirk. "Or shalt thou bend knee and charter expedition?"

You level a steady look between the two, offering a diplomatic shrug. "Just so, good Princes, set forth your terms and see them met with ready resolve. For Our beloved awaits on the other side of this trial, thus I shall not dissolve."

At last, Prince Nohanze stirs within the shadowed recesses of his throne. "Then sworn be thy will to the old rites," he rumbles in a voice like stones grinding together in the dark. "Surrender thy life entire on this night. Only once unmade and remade anew shall the path of forever open unto you."

A chill trickles down your spine at the ebon ruler's foreboding proclamation. Yet some core part of your being remains unshakable even in the face of his dire ultimatum. You came too far and sacrificed too much to be deterred now.

Looking each prince in the eye, you proclaim: "Then let tonight mark the first breath of Our second verse. We shall give all to transcend Our mortal curse."

The zebra rulers exchange inscrutable looks. "So let it be woven," they reply in chilling unison. "The young ward hath spoken." All four stand and stamp their hooves in a rhythmic unison. "If immortality doth be what thou request, for nine-hundred ninety-nine years will thee serve at our behest."









"In Farasian culture, the number nine is oft associated with selflessness and the desire to serve others," you explain, dipping your head respectfully to the Night Princess. "Thus, in exchange for divulging the secrets of the elixir that giveth youthful vigor, I was to serve the royal family for nine-hundred and ninety-nine years. During which time, I would practice alchemy and potion-brewing alongside their royal apothecaries, serving in the palace until such time as my agreement was completed."

Princess Luna's ethereal mane undulates in a cosmic downpour, starry strands flickering and pulsing with each shift of her mood. Her regal features remain inscrutable as you recount the tale of your ill-fated deal with the Farasian princes all those centuries ago.

She blinks slowly, turquoise eyes glimmering with hints of something indiscernible. Resignation? Amusement? Skepticism? Discerning the true root of her thoughts proves difficult. With Luna, you've always sensed layers upon layers of emotion and wisdom lying beneath that cultured facade of regal propriety.

"So..." Her rich alto tones roll forth, profoundly resonant yet velveteen-soft. "Thou didst truly trade the lion's share of a mortal life's duration for this..." One winged brow arches in a delicate curve as the Princess gestures vaguely toward the phial clutched in your hand. "Alchemical panacea, as it were?"

A subtle edge of sardonic incredulity laces those words, dripping from Luna's tongue like sweet poison. You can't deny a slight twinge of indignation at her dismissive tone. What, did she expect you to simply recount the secret to limitless longevity like a trifling court jester's punchline?

"Indeed." You meet her pointed look with one of utmost sincerity. Head held high despite her obvious skepticism. "Nine centuries and ninety-nine years I labored–first in apprenticeship, transcribing the Farasian masters' knowledge of alchemy and potions. Not... unlike a unicorn's tutelage, I suppose."

The faintest ghost of a wistful smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Their brews were... potent, if unsubtle in methodology. Not at all like the ethereal tinctures of Equestrian magic. Luckily, for a non-magical creature such as myself, the zebras' arts relied only upon fertile imagination and tireless study of this world's natural bounties."

You raise the phial, allowing the soft torchlight to render its syrupy amber contents in molten hues. "This particular infusion was derived from the nectar of the golden bloom that gives it its name. A rare desert orchid only grown in the Farasian royal palace, harvested under the light of a solar eclipse."

Unbidden, your gaze flits toward Luna of its own accord. You find her studying you with that same inscrutable intensity–burning curiosity warring with ingrained skepticism. A muscle twitches ever so faintly along her jawline as her tongue moistens full lips in an equine gesture of pensive contemplation.

Squaring your shoulders almost unconsciously, you forge onward. "The harvested nectar was then fermented with the distillate of an artisan grain spirit, catalyzing the orchid's latent rejuvenating properties over a two-year period."

You can't resist a rueful chuckle. "I nearly went mad with impatience during that second year, I'll admit. Unwittingly acting the part of fretful groom pining for a bride that was, in truth, every aspect of immortality itself."

Those words seem to strike a chord within the regal alicorn. You notice her throat constrict in a faint swallow, stormy gaze momentarily fracturing to reveal a glimpse of some deeper emotion simmering beneath the surface. Just as quickly, those teal irises glaze over once more as Luna reasserts her air of haughty aloofness.

You stand before her silent majesty for what feels like a small eternity, the air heavy with tension and the weight of too many bygone years. Princess Luna regards this phial of alleged immortality in your grasp with an inscrutable gaze. Her regal head tilts, ethereal mane swirling like cosmic dreamcatchers cast in deepest navy.

Those cerulean eyes narrow, brimming with swirling eddies of skepticism and... something deeper–a hint of yearning, perhaps? Or even dread? Whatever emotions churn behind that stoic facade, the Princess of the Night does not yet deign to voice them.

Instead, Luna straightens her regal bearing, feathery wings giving an agitated twitch as she glances sidelong at the small gathering of Ponyville citizens gawking nearby. A slight sneer pulls at the corner of her muzzle.

"Thou hast our indulgence for the present moment, knave," the alicorn decrees in a tone that brokered no disagreements. "Yet our patience shall not be tormented indefinitely. Make plain what keenness of enlightenment thou seekest to impart upon us, and swiftly–lest we lose what little remains of our aristocratic restraint."

From the corner of your eye, you spy a pair of young fillies goggling in awestruck stupor, having crept halfway out from their hiding spot behind a nearby apple cart. Even through their frilly Nightmare Night costumes, their eyes remain locked on Luna with an enraptured gaze that seems to drink in her every imposing movement.

Before you can so much as open your mouth, however, the Princess beats you to the proverbial punch. "Hasten thy tale," she commands brusquely, giving a terse flick of her swan-like neck. "For there is but one truth We crave with Our soul entire–the reason thou didst abandon Us to suffer in desolation for a thousand years bereft of thy light."

Ah, and so to the heart of the issue the Princess strikes. Her voice drops to a darker timbre, resonating with that fathomless depth of wisdom and emotion only an immortal could muster. Luna's radiant mane billows, aurorae flickering behind her eyes like foxfire.

"Deliver unto Us this... revelation of purpose behind thy betrayal. And then..." She pauses, throat constricting in an equine swallow. "And then We shall determine what further judgments must needs be rendered."

Beside you, a hushed, almost reverent silence descends over the townsponies. Clearly, they sense this pivotal moment you now find yourself thrust into. A dozen pairs of eyes watch you with rapt attentiveness, waiting alongside their Princess for the explanation that–fairly or not–may ultimately decide your fate here tonight.

Perhaps, in hindsight, you reflect, leading with a dramatic unveiling of your rejuvenating elixir wasn't the subtlest move. The look of utter skepticism–bordering on outright scorn–plastered across Luna's noble features is evidence enough of that tactical misstep.

And yet, how else to impress upon this immortal mare the gravity of your quest? The lengths to which you willingly subjugated yourself in pursuit of a gift worthy of her eternal radiance? Words alone seem cheap by comparison.

Her mane ripples and billows with cosmic energies, turquoise depths burning like twin supernovae. You can all but see the exasperation radiating outwards in waves.

Yet you stand your ground, squaring your shoulders against the coming storm. For a beat, you simply regard this immortal majesty–your heart's one true desire, the guiding star that pulled you across a thousand years. All the justifications, rationales and pretty words seem to shrivel upon your tongue in the face of such brutally candid hurt and anguish.

"As you've surmised already, most regal and insightful majesty," you begin in an even baritone, "my intentions were never to inflict agonies upon you. Quite the contrary..."

Your words trail off as you unconsciously lift the phial of rejuvenating elixir towards the moonlight. The syrupy amber liquid catches those silvery beams and glows like molten citrine.

"I sought only to ensure my insignificant light might join yours in perpetuity. To gift you a love unbroken by mortality's cruel march and the ceaseless turning of time's dread wheel."

You can't resist quirking the faintest of rueful smiles, even as you feel your heart constrict within your breast.

"Was it childishly naïve of me? Yes. But I was young and painfully enamored by you–the immortal personification of the cosmos themselves, cloaked in mere mortal flesh. How could I not thirst for a way to stand eternal vigil by your side?"

"And so I left–not out of scorn or malice, but in the prideful, selfish pursuit of this vision." You shake your head slowly, unable to quell a rueful edge to your tone. "I wished to remain by your side forevermore–not as a mere memory, but as flesh and blood, youthful evermore..."

"Instead, all I ended up doing was subjecting you to a thousand years of torment..."

The confession hangs in the air between you and the Princess of the Night like a guillotine blade. Luna's ethereal mane writhes and swirls with celestial energies, giving her an utterly otherworldly, nigh-godlike air as she regards you from the corner of her eye. Those turquoise depths gleam brighter than any star, ancient and inscrutable.

For a long, pregnant pause, naught but the skittering of ponies shifting on their hooves and the occasional creak of wagon wheels punctuates the fraught silence. Then, with tantalizing slowness, Luna pivots to face you fully. Wings rustling in an unconscious display of poise and power, she draws herself up to her full, statuesque height.

"Let Us ensureth We grasp thy tale accurately, knave..." Her regal tones drip with acid, each syllable etched in icy disdain. "Thou didst abandon your betrothed bride on the eve of our holy union, fleeing into the blackest night like a craven thief absconding with ill-gain'd bounty."

The Princess stalks towards you in a series of disciplined, almost predatory strides. Townsponies squeak and scatter to clear a wide berth. Those terrible wings flare in silent threat, blotting out the very moon itself in their unfurled vastness.

"All to undertake a fool's quest in pursuit of imbibing..." Her regal muzzle curls in a contemptuous sneer as she gestures towards the phial still clutched numbly in your hand. "... Some fanciful, zebra-spun necromancy."

Despite her diminutive stature compared to you, the sheer oppressive aura of Luna's presence makes her seem to loom like an unfurling stormfront. The air itself grows heavier, thicker–redolent with the metallic tang of ozone and smoldering embers.

"And let Us not dissemble, knave," the Princess spits, her baleful gaze locked squarely with yours. "For it was THAT arrogance, that pathetic mortal vanity which loosed Nightmare Moon upon Our benighted realm!"

Shockwaves of pure force ripple outward in concentric rings from Luna's withers. Panicked whinnies and shrieks fill the air as ponies cower and flee for cover. Even the earth itself seems to tremble, quailing beneath the Princess's unleashed fury.

Yet despite the maelstrom of rage scorching the air around you, you find your footing remains inexplicably steady. Resolve settles into your soul like an anchor in a raging tempest as you meet Luna's withering onslaught with unflinching calm. For it is only NOW, with the bitter truth laid bare between you at long last, that the burden of a thousand years begins to lift.

"Your anger is just, Princess," you reply, making sure to keep your tone even and respectful. "I'll not rebut the severity of the burden my selfish exodus inflicted upon you and your subjects. Any pleas for exculpation would only cheapen the suffering you endured."

"I stand before you tonight, bruised and battered by the relentless march of lifetimes, yet nevertheless here, accepting of whatever fate you would have for me." An near imperceptible sigh parts your lips as those ancient eyes–eyes you know more intimately than your own–hold you transfixed like a butterfly pinned to cotton wool.

"My quest met with success, and yet the true victory remains incomplete..." You cannot resist reaching out to her, pleading expression writ plain across your face. "For what good is life, whether mortal or eternal, without thy radiant light to share it with, sweet Moonbeam?"

The air hangs thick with tension, charged particles bristling in the space between yourself and the Princess of the Night. Her ethereal mane writhes and crackles like a living corona, luminous strands shimmering with stray arcs of energy. Those smoldering turquoise irises burn hotter than small suns, reflecting the inferno of righteous fury blazing within Luna's regal soul.

"Do you hear yourself?" she seethes, words etched in acid. "Such petulant, self-serving justifications you offer up in the face of your betrayal!"

Each syllable lashes across your exposed soul like a scorpion's sting. Yet you remain steadfast in the face of Luna's onslaught, though gears grind furiously behind those ancient eyes. The Princess practically vibrates with the force of her mounting indignation, tail thrashing like an enraged dragon's.

"An immortal gift, was it? A 'labor of love' to eternally bind our souls in sacred communion?!" she snarls, wings flaring to their fullest span. The raw, cosmic energies swirling about her frame intensify, forcing any nearby ponies to stagger back from the oppressive aura unleashed.

"Lies..." Dark, oily smoke begins seeping from the corners of Luna's eyes, tears of celestial ichor tracking crimson paths down her cheeks. "Every last honeyed syllable naught but craven lies and pathetic self-aggrandizement!"

The increasingly haggard Princess throws back her regal head and SCREAMS–a hollow, lancing note of purest distilled torment that reverberates to your very marrow. Ponies shriek and cower as the sound tears across the night like a physical force. Windows rattle in their frames. The very earth itself quakes beneath your feet.

And through it all, you remain transfixed, unable to tear your gaze from Luna's terrible visage. She sucks in a ragged breath, starry mane undulating in slow, grieving sweeps.

"Your vows of eternal fidelity ring hollow from between lips that abandoned me one thousand endless nights ago!"

You can only watch as the Night Princess buckles forward in the fervent emotional storm. Her entire lithe frame trembles, racked by unnamed agonies older than mortal time itself.

And then she lifts her head to bestow upon you a look of such naked, wounded betrayal that it cleaves straight to the primal core of your soul. Her next words come hushed, a stark whisper that cuts deeper than any scream or raging cry could hope to achieve.

"Do you even comprehend what you stole from me by your selfish vanishment, Anon?" she pleads, ancient eyes glistening. "The desolation of an eternity spent without the one sole light I craved?"

Tears spill freely down those azure cheeks, viscous starlight streaming unheeded for all of Ponyville to behold. And in that heart-shredding moment, you catch a glimpse of the child beneath the god... your Dream Princess, utterly devastated by your choices.

Turquoise eyes ablaze with the cosmic fire of a thousand dying suns bore directly into you. You feel the smoldering heat of Luna's wounded gaze searing past all physical barriers to penetrate straight to your very essence. Those azure depths reflect a universe of anguish and rage–turbulent nebulae swirling amidst infinite blacknesses too deep to fathom.

The Princess of Night commands all your focus. Your entire world narrows to that single, stricken visage of betrayal made manifest. Her full lips part, venting a rattled sob that sounds as old and weary as entropy itself. Streaks of celestial starlight drip unheeded down those regal, azure cheeks, tracing glistening paths through the sleek fur.

Despite the grandeur of her winged splendor, in this moment, Luna seems so achingly, heart-wrenchingly small. Not a timeless archon of cosmic mystery, but simply an achingly vulnerable soul laid raw from eons of unslakable loneliness and bitter despair. The absolute personification of pure, distilled heartbreak.

It's only now that you fully comprehend the magnitude of what you wrought by your selfish pursuit of immortal life at Luna's side. More than a mere romantic slight or youthful impulsiveness, your flight from her was an act of utter and complete soul-rending.

For so long, you've carried the weight of your perceived "noble" quest like a battle standard, marching forth with zealous conviction. Surely your dedication and sacrifices would sway Luna's heart once the full narrative of your exodus unfolded, right? Yet confronted by the stark, naked reality of her devastation, every honeyed justification withers on your tongue to bitter ash.

You want to reach out, to gather this immortal spirit into your arms and beg her forgiveness a thousand times over. Yet all you can do is remain anchored in place, letting that unravelling tide crash over you again and again. Within those blazing turquoise irises, you behold whole galaxies of sorrow swirl amidst infinite lightless voids. To gaze too deeply invokes a soul-level vertigo, the existential dread of confronting mysteries too vast for mortal minds to ponder overlong.

A tremor wracks your frame as the enormity of your sins settles in your gut like a leaden weight. You collapse to your knees, hands only moving in time to catch yourself from smacking upon the cobblestones. The Princess is right–no boons of longevity or promises of eternal union could ever atone for the metaphysical trauma your actions inflicted upon her very essence. You don't just stand accused of abandoning a lover. No, your sin cuts far deeper–maiming the very Spirit of Night itself in ways mortal psyches could scarcely conceive. With your thoughtless exodus, you inflicted a metaphysical trauma beyond quantifying.

How could you, a mere mayfly flickering in and out of existence, ever hope to encompass the true depths of Luna's devastation during her thousand years of harrowing isolation? Of course no ephemeral boon of longevity or rejuvenating alchemies could ever atone for such a cosmic transgression. The Four Princes were right, all those centuries ago–you'd let your hubris, your greed, cloud everything. All this time... you thought you'd been serving others, but in reality? You only did so as a means to serve yourself. Truly, a craven knave to the very end.

For the first time since embarking on your ill-fated journey, you find the path ahead utterly obfuscated. Every carefully laid stone of your grand design lies in shattered ruins at your feet, pulverized by cosmic forces too infinite to circumvent. Even if granted literal forever by the Zebras' fabled alchemies, how could you ever hope to redress such devastation?

You open your mouth to speak, but the words simply won't come. What's left to say, pray tell?

"I... I'm so, so sorry, princess..." you tremble, head dipping down to the cobblestones. "I'm sorry, love..." You squint your eyes shut, hands shaking as you press them together, as if prostrating in fervent prayer. "I-I'm so, so sorry..." you repeat, muttering over and over again as tears begin falling from your face, the anguish and realization of what you've done too much for your soul to bear, mortal or not. "I don't deserve you... I'm a damned fool to the end..."

The penitent words spill from your lips like droplets of blood. You kneel before Princess Luna, head bowed, your entire being a study in contrition given mortal flesh. All about you, the townsponies of Ponyville gawp in mute astonishment at this unfolding spectacle.

Luna herself draws in a shuddering breath, turquoise eyes burning with the cosmic fire of a thousand dying suns. Her mane writhes with celestial energies, arcs of stray power crawling across those ethereal strands. For a span of several heartbeats, she regards you with an expression too complex, too devastated to parse.

Then, with a subtle inclination of her regal head, the Princess wills herself to composure. The wild corona of her mane smoothes, currents of magic ebbing like the outgoing tides. When at last she speaks, her words ring forth in that cultured Canterlot locution.

"Rise, Anon. We shall have... words, thee and I." Luna holds your gaze steadily, the barest hint of naked vulnerability flickering behind those Stygian depths.

Around you, ponies scramble in a bustle of flustered whispers and sidelong glances. Parents usher foals towards the fringes while others simply gape with unabashed curiosity. Even oblivious to the scrutiny, you can't help but feel the full weight of Luna's imperious presence searing straight through to your very soul.

With a trembling sigh, you haul yourself upright to face Her Majesty. Those terrible wings give a slight ruffle, azure plumes rearranging themselves in an almost self-conscious display. The Princess pivots on one hoof, then gestures with an infinitesimal tilt of her horn.

"Let us depart this spectacle." Her next words drop to a conspiratorial murmur clearly intended only for your ears. "We grow... weary of prying eyes."

Without awaiting your assent, the alicorn mare turns in a sweep of ethereal tresses and strides towards the outskirts of the town square. Over one withers, she tosses a final cryptic glance your way–one that brooks no refusal.

"Come along. There are... matters requiring further elucidation."

You follow behind as the Princess beckons with a subtle inclination of her horn. Her ethereal mane flows behind like rivulets of stardust, obscuring much of her petite frame from view. Yet you catch glimpses–the slight sway of her flanks, the imperious angle of those feathery wings furling and unfurling in a subconscious display of regal poise. Your eyes flick towards the gathering crows of rubbernecking onlookers and you suppress a wince. Just another public spectacle for Equestria's never-ending rumor mill to chew over; even a thousand years later you're aptly familiar with the notion.

Up ahead, Luna leads on in a measured, unhurried stride, clearly masking a disquiet that simmers beneath that unflappable exterior. Her tail swishes in tight, agitated arcs, the only outward betrayal of whatever maelstrom roils just beneath that placid surface. You fall in step silently several paces behind, uncertain whether to match her pace or give some deference with added distance. She approaches the chariot from earlier that night, her thestral batpony guards ever-vigilant as they cast you a suspicious eye.

Princess Luna's horn glows faintly as she floats herself up into the chariot, wings furling and unfurling with patrician grace. Those thestral guards–their flared nostrils and narrowed eyes tracking your every move–bristle ever so slightly at your forward momentum.

She catches your tentative pause, however, arching one slender brow in an unmistakable challenge. "Our words were not mere suggestion, sirrah. Board this conveyance and accompany Us, post-haste."

Her regal tones brook no further dissension. With a muted snort, the Princess settles herself amidst the chariot's plush cushions, swishing her ethereal tail idly as she awaits your compliance.

The thestrals exchange a look, hulking shoulders rising and falling in an approximation of a shrug. One knuckles his brow in a gruff salute as their wings unfurl with an audible rrrrrRIP of stretching membranes.

Whether through raw defiance or simple bemusement at the sheer absurdity of it all, you can't quite decide. Nonetheless, you steel yourself with a breath and step forward, clambering up into the chariot to settle gingerly on the padded seat across from Luna.

Almost immediately, the thestrals leap skyward, powerful wingbeats kicking up miniature cyclones in their wake. They pull the chariot aloft with startling swiftness, clearing the rooftops of Ponyville in the span of a few heartbeats.

Beneath you, the panicked townsponies look on in awestruck silence as their regal ruler simply... spirited away into the night along with that strange, imposing creature seemingly at the heart of this cosmic unraveling.

Luna regards you sidelong during your rapid ascent, inscrutable thoughts churning behind those ancient, fathomless depths. The chariot's motion grows smoother as the thestrals find their cadence, gliding on the currents of cool autumn winds.

"Doth this conveyance bring thee discomfort?" the Princess inquires after a contemplative pause. "'Tis admittedly ill-suited to thy lack of wings, We must confess."

There's an undercurrent of something in her tone just then. Idle curiosity? A subtle attempt at levity following your... rather fraught reunion? Perhaps even the beginnings of yet another subtle barb, readied to be loosed at a moment's provocation?

Regardless, those mercurial irises remain locked to yours, awaiting your response with what you can only describe as placid expectation. Whatever inner storm rages behind that facade, for now at least it holds its peace–albeit tenuously.

"No, um, princess, 'tis fine," you murmur, unsure of what to say. Still, as always, you forge ahead. "I fear I've... dashed your hopes for a joyous Nightmare Night in the most thoughtless fashion imaginable."

You're not quite sure how to respond to Princess Luna's tentative overture. The surreal spectacle of cruising through the night sky in Her Majesty's royal chariot has a way of rendering mere words clumsily impotent. Does one quip about the accommodations? Wax philosophical about the scenic vistas afforded by open air flight? Hah, fat chance.

Navigating the mercurial temperaments of alicorn princesses is already a fraught affair without piling on sardonic bon mots. Especially when said alicorn remains visibly teetering on the precipice between righteous fury and... something far more dangerous. Something tender and vulnerable that you sense would shatter like spun glass at the slightest misstep.

Still, sitting here in charged silence quickly grows stifling. The thestrals' rhythmic wingbeats provide a steady cadence, but do little to fill the palpable void. Luna casts you sidelong glances from beneath hooded lids, each one carrying faint hints of unnamed emotions flickering through those azure irises.

At last, she breaks the stillness, words measured with regal bearing. "One-thousand years past, you spurned our intended union in pursuit of..." She pauses fractionally, as though tasting the words before uttering them. "Immortal congress. A goal thou now claimst attained."

Oh? Is that a subtle note of... skepticism lacing her tone? The Princess leans in infinitesimally, feathery wingtips giving an agitated twitch. "Wherefore then, didst thou return to Equestria now after all this age? What inscrutable aim guides thy course on this hallowed of nights?"

Those ancient eyes pin you in place with their cosmic intensity, daring you to so much as omit a single undergirding truth. At her core, Luna has ever been relentlessly forthright – a seeker of unvarnished realities beneath layers of obfuscation.

At this point, you're not even sure. Making good on your promise? You shattered that trust the moment you left. Yet she demands an explanation, and so you shall give.

"Truthfully... I know not anymore," you mutter, clasping your hands together as you look down at them. "My servitude in Farasi ended months ago. Immediately I gathered my things and made for Equestria as soon as I was able."

You pause a few seconds, tilting your gaze back up tentatively to the princess. "I'd planned on traveling to Canterlot proper to have made my appearance, giving us both time to... prepare, but I was traveling through Ponyville tonight and decided to enjoy some of the festivities before making my way further towards the capital. I hadn't expected an appearance from royalty this far out, but..." you trail off, unsure of how to continue from there.

You'd also chosen this route in order to take some time to pay reverence at the ruins of the Castle of the Two Sisters; you spent plenty of time traveling its long-wasted away halls, revisiting old paths you'd traveled: the royal archives, where your nights of research took place leading up to you leaving; the winding staircase towards Luna's personal bedchambers you'd always fantasized about being able to walk along unmolested, up to your awaiting paramour... all fallen to ruin after that fateful night.

"I... saw what happened to the castle in the Everfree. I'm... sorry about that, too," you say, not an ounce of the characteristic coyness or mirth behind your tone.

"I'm afraid there was no grand cosmic plan behind my return, Princess," you admit with a rueful shake of your head. "Only ever a foolish old man, wishing to reunite with his beloved and reclaim those halcyon days of passion and romance." You sigh. "Though I suppose such notions are that idealistic youthful vigor of mine shining through even after all this time... or stubbornness. Or both."

Princess Luna's ethereal mane dances in cosmic ripples, mirroring those heavenly lights flickering across her midnight coat. She regards you sidelong through hooded turquoise spheres, fins quirking in that peculiar equine gesture of piqued curiosity.

"Thou hast spoken plainly of thy aims," she murmurs at length, words carrying the weight of a royal decree. "Yet We confess to sensing... obfuscations shrouded 'neath thy pledges of affection eternal."

A delicate winged brow angles upward, wordless challenge to rebut her accusation. Those terrible cosmic eyes narrow infinitesimally as she drinks in the sight of you squirming beneath her imperious scrutiny.

"Art thou certain no ulterior motivations steer thy course, strange one?" Luna intones, every syllable etched in acid skepticism. "Some deeper ambition lurking obscured behind honeyed vows of courtly dalliance?"

The Princess leans in until you can taste the electric tang of magic on the air gusting from her flared nostrils. Here is the full, terrible brunt of a nigh-immortal spirit's incisive discernment focused squarely upon you. Like a butterfly pinned beneath a cosmic lens, your every involuntary twitch and furtive eye movement is mercilessly catalogued and dissected for hidden meanings.

"Speak true, Sirrah," she commands in a tone that brooks no dalliance. "We would have this entire truth set plain ere proceeding any further down whate'er tangled path fate hath woven."

"Never have, never would dream of it," you shake your head, meeting her gaze steadily now. "My only singular motivation, ambition, was always you, whether foolish or not. As my betrothed, I..." you trail off, lost for words as you search her eyes for something, anything. "I wished only for your happiness, love."

For the span of several beats, Princess Luna simply... regards you, nostrils twitching almost imperceptibly as she mulls over your plaintive avowal. That starswept mane billows in a cosmic tide, ethereal tresses rippling across her withers in mesmerizing undulations.

At last, the regal alicorn leans back with an inscrutable dip of her head. Begrudging acknowledgment? Fleeting amusement at the sheer audacity of your claims? Or perhaps some deeper sardonic musing upon the vagaries of fate that seem to endlessly draw you both into its tangled weave, no matter how frayed those threads may become?

Regardless, the Princess's voice rings forth, rich and resonant when next she speaks. "So be it, strange one." Her words hold an exploratory cadence, as if testing the very syllables upon her tongue. "For present, We shall accept thy claims of... singular ardor at humble face value."

One feathery wing extends in an unconscious sweep, azure primaries trailing idle patterns across the chariot's cushioned interior. "Though We must confess, the mind boggles at the implications therein. A love so profound as to tempt the very laws of celestial reality?"

Those turquoise irises gleam with a hint of sardonic whimsy. "One might be forgiven for mistaking such fervent convictions as the maunderings of a madpony, sirrah. Or..." She hesitates fractionally, as if considering whether to veer her line of inquiry down a new avenue. But for once, discretion prevails in the Princess of the Night's domain.

"No matter." She demurs with a negligent toss of her radiant mane. Her gaze bores into yours, smoldering like the hearts of long-dead stars. "Suffice to say, We are... intrigued to plumb these mysteries in greater depth. If thou art truthful in thy vigor, then what unspools from here shall prove most elucidating indeed for us both."

The Princess pauses, as if awaiting acknowledgement. But you know better by now than to speak over her regal silences unbidden. Sure enough, she presses on after those few charged heartbeats.

"For make no mistake, strange one–We shall be watchful for even the faintest deceptions or failings in thine intent." There's an undercurrent of hardness behind those words, echoing like the grinding of cosmic gears. "See that no veils of honeyed artifice sully what vows and oaths thee makest unto Us going forth."

With a swish of her ethereal tail, Luna leans back into the chariot's cushions, regarding you with an imperious aspect. The achingly vulnerable creature from mere moments before seems to withdraw behind that cultured veneer once more. Yet you cannot shake the sense that those turquoise depths remain focused with laserlike keenness upon your every minute reaction, probing for the slightest slippage or falter in your presented facade.

The thestral guards overhead bank in a wide, lazy turn, steering your conveyance away from Ponyville proper. As the thatched rooftops and bustling town square recede into the distance, you spot an even more looming silhouette resolving itself against the midnight horizon ahead.

Canterlot Castle. Home of the Diarchical rule of Equestria's day and night royalty. The grand, sweeping spires gleam like polished obsidian and opalescent pearl beneath the waxing moon's lambent glow. Your heart begins to quicken despite your best efforts to soothe its anxious cadence.

After over a thousand years, you've finally returned to the hallowed halls of Luna's celestial palace. Whatever destiny awaits you within those vaunted towers remains unwritten–but bound to prove utterly pivotal. One way or another, this fateful reunion between immortal Princess and prodigal paramour shall be set into the eternal annals.