“Sure, you can have your pick of stallions,” Doug starts, his tone more curious than condemning. “Assuming they say yes, of course. But who wouldn’t?”

The joking tone and accompanying grin fails to lighten Luna’s sour expression, her fixed gaze and harsh stare not easing one iota.

Doug’s smile falters as he realizes that a considerable number of stallions might have said yes if Luna asked, but only for Celestia’s sake or from the status gained by consorting with a Princess. And others would have said no because of her past. And she knows this more intimately than anypony else; she has seen their lust-laced dreams, their torrid nightmares, their deepest hopes and darkest fears. She knows how many of those terrors involve her at a primal level. After all, generations have grown up knowing nothing about her except from tales told to frighten foals into compliance, that the ‘big bad Nightmare Moon’ would gobble them up if they didn’t eat their hay.

How true is this for himself? More likely than he would like to admit, that’s for sure. It’s hard for him, even now with them having a foal together, to disentangle Princess Luna from Nightmare Moon and the horrors she inflicted on him. Can he even separate them, given how Celestia flirts with her flame-tinged alter ego any time passion threatens to overrun her senses? It seems an impossible task.

A frown peeks out from his tightly pursed lips as he considers how exactly to phrase his next question. He finally breaks the silence by asking, “But what makes you think that a perfect match exists for you?”

His careful consideration doesn’t stop the lunar alicorn from manifesting afterimages of glowing cobalt daggers as she glares at him. “Explain thyself,” Luna grits out between clenched teeth.

Rarity glances back with a momentary flicker of worry as Doug leans even further into her side, as if he had a chance to escape or hide from Luna’s wrath. She quickly turns away and tries to appear as if she is not prying into the two’s affairs, her insatiable curiosity somewhat appeased by the potential to hear anything juicy straight from the Princess’ mouth. Two of her herdmates, Applejack and Fluttershy, creep closer; their heads are low, ears folded back, attempting to stay silent as they approach to a more suitable location to listen in and intervene if necessary.

Doug collects his thoughts, staring off into the void of night. “There are many things we look for in a partner,” he explains, slow and methodical. He winces as Grubber continues piercing into his left forearm, the black outline of Rarity’s mark gradually taking shape. “So many that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to list them all. And yet you have to, to increase the chance your suitor is compatible. But the more requirements you list the harder it is for your potential stallion to meet all of them, or that they might be incompatible with each other.”

“Then what should we do?” Luna demands. “Should we not look at all, given the impossibility of our search? Or are our standards unreasonably high, that we shall never be satisfied unless we deign to accept thy imperfections?”

“Um,” Doug starts, one eye twitching to a brief squint. He frowns. “You’re partly right. I mean, nopony is perfect, so they’re going to have some area where they fall short. And a big part of life is trying to improve, to be the pony you want to be, but also the pony the other pony wants you to be.”

“We appreciate the sentiment,” Luna starts diplomatically, though her eyes betray a lack of complete sincerity. “And we acknowledge our own imperfections. But we cannot help but wonder as to the fount from which thy concern springs. Art thou truly seeking kinship with ourselves? Or is thy purpose to paper over our perturbations and restore the tenuous harmony we held before?”

“Wow,” Doug says with a sheepish grin, scratching at the back of his head. “You really cut to the heart of the matter, huh?” He meets Luna’s gaze but briefly, glancing to the side as the corners of his smile pull tighter. “I mean, I want to get to know you better. There’s definitely a part of me that wants to remedy whatever conflict comes up. That sees this, um, friction as a blemish that needs correcting, not because I desire a deeper relationship with you but because it makes me look bad. I don’t like that part of me, but it exists, and I think we get to a better place by admitting our faults and utilizing them as incentives than by wishing they didn’t exist.”

Luna carefully considers him as the other ponies around tense. “Thou art remarkably honest,” she says thoughtfully. “We have never met somepony as brazen in their forthrightness, yet simultaneously lacking the impertinence and obdurance of one who disregards the sentiments of others.”

Doug’s scratching hand digs a little deeper into the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he says with a subdued chortle. He finds Applejack, a warmth entering his smile. “I’d like to say it has served me well, yet it seems like it just adds to the plates I need to keep spinning.”

“Indeed,” Luna says with narrowed eyes as Applejack blows Doug a kiss. “Though we fear the comparison to a circus routine needing periodic correction, however apt, to reveal the root of our discord.”

Doug glances around, half expecting some explosion or other to herald the draconequus’ arrival. But that would just be predictable, wouldn’t it? He turns back to Luna, her gaze likewise returning to him as if she had the same fear of a chaotic arrival. “I get that. And I don’t like how it sounds, either. Life would certainly be easier if I had less going on: less mares, less foals, less responsibilities. But it wouldn’t be better, especially if I had to cut some of those things out. And how would I know what my limits are unless I push up against them?” He looks around for Rainbow Dash, knowing how she would appreciate the statement, but he can’t find the cerulean pegasus. “And then break through them, becoming more than I thought I could be?”

Luna frowns, even as she finds the sentiment endearing. “We do not wish to be a mere addition to your ‘responsibilities’. And neither do we desire a halfhearted or belabored attempt to claim our devotion. If thou art satisfied with filling our belly with foal, then say it and allow us to search for passion elsewhere. We would still play the part as thou desires, a mare to her stallion, a Princess to her Prince, returning affections and raising our tail when it comes time to bed us.”

“That’s not what I want at all,” Doug asserts, his voice raising. It bothers him that Luna can talk of such a relationship as a possibility and it shows in his dour countenance. “But what you said is true. I don’t want to see you as a trophy, some prize to be won. I don’t want a superficial relationship for appearances’ sake. And I don’t think that’s what you want, either.”

“No,” Luna concedes, turning her head to the side and looking away. “That is not what we wish.”

“Then what do you want?” Doug demands. When Luna doesn’t reply he continues, his tone softening, “Look, I’m sorry I can’t read you perfectly. I don’t know you well enough to predict your every impulse. I understand you feel rushed into this relationship, that you would have preferred somepony who gets you better, who makes you laugh without trying, who isn’t scared for his life every time you narrow your eyes at him.”

The last line gets Luna to look back at him, breath catching in her throat. She would have worried more except for his cheesy grin stretching from ear to ear that would give Pinkie Pie a run for her bits.

“But you’re stuck with me.” Doug thumps his chest with his free hand, nodding superfluously. The exaggerated banality draws a faint smile from Luna. “So we’re going to have to make the best of this. It’s hard to look at something imperfect and know that it could be so much better. But we have to work with what we’ve got. And the only way to mold this clay into something more appealing to your taste is to shape it yourself.”

“Thou proposes that we undertake the ignominious task of refining away your impurities?” Luna smirks, matching Doug’s. “How wilt thou make this up to us?”

A spark of revelation goes off in Doug’s mind. “No,” he states with a bit of force behind his words. Half of his mouth curls upward, besting Luna’s smirk with his own. “I think you need to make this up to me.”

“Oh?” Luna’s horn flares, gently lifting her Sister and setting her off to the side. Celestia fidgets for a moment before going still, her head facing them with closed eyes and a lengthening smile. Luna takes her time marching forward two steps, a growing dread filling the pits of everypony nearby’s belly. She dips down, a hoof reaching to tilt Doug’s head upward so they might stare into each other’s eyes.

Doug gulps, failing to return Luna’s unblinking gaze without flinching.

“We do not think it fair,” Luna states with a twinkle in her eyes that rivals the stars above, “that Chrysalis is the only one of us whom thou hast ridden.”

“Hmm.” Doug pulls away from her gaze to glance at the starry night. “But if you start singing about showing me the world? I’m bailing, parachute or no.”

“If thou dost not care for shining, shimmering splendor,” Luna counters as she bends low, allowing Doug to mount her by swinging a leg over her withers and adjusting himself against her neck. “Then that may be for the best.”

With one graceful motion Luna leaps off the deck of the Lunaris Priestess, tucking her wings in a rapid dive toward the dark desert below. Cool air rushes past, her star-encrusted mane and tail billowing behind as she revels in the moment. Hands clasp against the Lunar insignia on her peytral, pressing the familiar metal into her chest; his legs grip into her sides, head just outside the corner of her eye as he avoids the buffeting mane.

She can feel him tense against her coat as she draws close to the barren land below, yet he has the sense to not caution her or question her prowess. He merely tugs closer, trusting the pony who has been flying longer than he has been alive. Her wings spread, catching the wind and turning their sharp dive to a gliding coast. She has to strain to keep from toppling over, the unfamiliar weight suddenly going from nearly non-existent to pressing against her neck at an unexpected angle.

“Oof,” Doug moans from behind her as she recovers, flapping her wings. “Glad I was ready for that this time.” He loosens his tight grip on her withers, sinking in her coat as one hand raises to nuzzle the corner of her mouth. He surprises her with a kiss to the opposite cheek and a gentle squeeze of his head against hers.

“Mm,” Luna replies, tilting her head to return the kiss. Except he has pulled away, staring at the silver moon that looms large above the dunes that sporadically crest the horizon. Pinpricks of bright light sporadically fill the remainder of the darkened sky, casting everything in an ethereal glow. She can barely make out their airship by the lighter underside, steadily making her way north, and presses harder to keep up.

“It’s hard to understand why ponies stopped loving your night,” Doug comments, full of awe. He gives her neck a gentle squeeze as she snorts. “Yeah, cliched, I know. I bet you have books filled with ballads about their beauty.”

“Thou hast no idea,” Luna quips sardonically. Then she sighs, shaking her head wistfully. “Sadly, the multitudes of amours declined much like the moon sinking beneath the horizon, many would-be admirers shifting their focus to our more visible Sister.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Doug says softly, caressing her side. “And…”

“And?” Luna asks, turning to the side to regard him.

Doug’s mouth purses to a tight grimace. “For whatever role I played in perpetuating any continued distaste for the night.”

Luna scoffs. “Whatever role thou hast played pales to our own, much like the moon against the sun.” She frowns as Doug grumbles, his objection unvoiced. As the silence lengthens she regrets dismissing whatever apology he was attempting, however insignificant it may or may not be. She inquires, “What role did thou play in continuing the repugnance of our night?”

It takes Doug a second to respond. “I modified the weather patterns to better suit ponies’ needs. They wanted more sunny days, so I shifted any rain I could to the night. Now they’re even less inclined to do things during the night, worsening the problem. And even if they did go out, they wouldn’t see your majestic splendor but a roiling mass of black that threatens to ruin their plans.”

“A conundrum indeed,” Luna says. Her heart swells at the compliment to her night, as trite as it might be. “How wilt thou solve it?”

“Honestly?” Doug shrugs to himself. “It’s not a problem I’ve considered. But off the top of my head? I’m going to blame any increase in clouds during the day on an increased demand for rainfall. It may be a shot at the moon, me attempting to avoid blame for something ponies need but don’t want, but Equestria needs to start growing more food to feed all these new mouths.”

A sly smile crosses Luna’s muzzle. “Thou would fit in well with the noble council, for all they spin their oversights into opportunities for themselves.”

“Ugh, I hope not,” Doug says, inwardly grateful for the teasing banter.

“And thou hast already landed a shot in the moon,” Luna continues. Her tail rubs against his back, curling around his waist. “Dost thou wish another attempt?”

“Much as I love ravishing you?” Doug pinches at her mane and runs his hand through the shimmering hair. “I bet you love the attention they shower you with on the Night Court.”

Luna laughs, hard and piercing. “Yes; they art akin to a shower of meteors, initially dazzling to behold with craters in their wake.” She shakes her head even as the wind clears any tears that might surface. “If we could abolish their overindulgences we would do so in a heartbeat. But dost thou really wish us to wax on about injustices they inflict and attempt to elude?”

“You know, it’s not how I initially thought this trip would go,” Doug concedes. “But compared to spouting eloquence about how beautiful the night is, and you are, and how difficult it was to appreciate where I came from because of light pollution? I’d rather hear about your thoughts on how to curtail abuses and avoid introducing new ones.”

“Hmm,” Luna considers, a hoof stroking at her chin as they speed along. It certainly is a difficult problem, but perhaps Doug would serve as a sounding board and, much as she detests the term, lunar advocate against her ideas.

Next Chapter: Ch. 54 - Volley Fire, Part Four Estimated time remaining: 23 Hours, 15 Minutes