A Cold Night's Date


                                            >Winter Solstice

                                            >The longest night of the year, and the official first day of Winter in the Equestrian calendar.

                                            >Of course, as usual, it had already felt like winter for a few weeks now.

                                            >Snow had coated Canterlot a few weeks ago, and the daily struggle against the ice, dark and cold had become a regular part of your life.

                                            >Not that you were complaining – you always liked the season.

                                            >It was comfy.

                                            >And you’d had all the more reason to like it since meeting Luna.

                                            >You were told that the shortening of the days, culminating with the solstice, was a gift from to her sister from Celestia, the enigmatic pony princess and prime mover of the sun.

                                            >Apparently, the two had fought over the distribution of day and night some thousand years ago, and had relatively recently reached a compromise on the issue.

                                            >It was all a bit above you, really.

                                            >All you knew was that Princess Luna, Princess of the Night, Princess of Dreams, and your special somepony, favoured the night, and so your appreciation of it grew in turn.

                                            >On this particular winter solstice, you’d decided to make a little celebration of the occasion.

                                            >You’d spent the day decorating, baking, cleaning and cooking.

                                            >Your modest downtown apartment was bedecked with holiday fare – most of it traditional Equestrian Hearth’s Warming decoration, and some more personalized Christmas decorations from your home.

                                            >The latter included a stealthy mistletoe tucked away above your kitchen’s doorframe.

                                            >That was a little forward of you, but it wasn’t a tradition Luna was familiar with, so you thought you could get away with it.

                                            >You peer outside your window, watching as the sun set below the line of apartments and palatial buildings on the horizon.

                                            >Canterlot had a charming beauty to it this time of the year – Already, lanterns in the street were lit and strung with garlands, holly and silver bells.

                                            >As it begins to darken, you check the clock on the wall.

                                            >Barely after 4.

                                            >With excitement bubbling up in your chest, you await Luna’s arrival.


                                            >You aren’t kept waiting long.

                                            >Almost the instant the sun sets, you hear a knock on the door.

                                            “Comi-”

                                            >Before the response has left your mouth, your door flings itself open with a loud bang.

                                            >On your threshold is Luna, stance wide, head held high, and a determined, fiery light in her eyes.

                                            >”Happy Winter Solstice, Anonymous!”

                                            >She’s nearly yelling, stopping just short of using her Royal Canterlot Voice™

                                            “Yeah, you too. You, uh… Want to come in?”

                                            >”Indeed! Um, I mean, yes!”

                                            >She’s maintaining a curiously manic demeanour, far removed from her usual stuffy, awkward royal attitude.

                                            >You found the latter endearing, if a bit weird.

                                            >You weren’t sure that you preferred whatever was going on here.

                                            >She trots in confidently, carrying a bag in her aura beside her.

                                            “Here, let me take that.”

                                            >”Oh yes, it’s a gift for you, not a big deal or anything...”

                                            >Her voice loses a bit of its intensity as she speaks, and she coughs awkwardly into her hoof before pulling it back together.

                                            >”Open it up, We- er, I think you’ll like it.”

                                            “Cool, thanks Luna.”

                                            >Curious, you take the bag and peer inside.

                                            “Oh thanks, I, uh, don’t think I’ve tried this before.”

                                            >It’s a fair-sized bottle of vodka.

                                            >You didn’t know much about Equestrian alcohol, but you knew your way around the local liquor shop well-enough to know that this was the shittiest brand bits could buy.

                                            >You raise it up to Luna questioningly.

                                            “Want a shot?”

                                            >Luna smiles a slightly pained smile and nods enthusiastically

                                            >A few moments later, you’ve retrieved a couple of glasses from your cabinet, pouring a light ounce each for Luna and yourself.

                                            >She eyes it suspiciously as you hand it to her.

                                            “Well, na zdarovya!”

                                            >”What?”

                                            “Oh, it’s a Russian… a cheer you make with vodka, where I come from.”

                                            >”Oh, I see. Yes, nasdarova!”

                                            >With that, you both down your shots.

                                            >It tastes like burning rubbing alcohol, with faint undercurrents of piss and gasoline.

                                            >As you drink, out of the corner of your eye you catch Luna gag and cough as she downs her beverage.


                                            >”Keep your dates cheap, he’s yours to keep.”

                                            >Luna mutters under her breath as she turns her cup around in front of her with a look of profound distaste, barely audible.

                                            “What?”

                                            >”What?”

                                            “Did you just say something?”

                                            >”Oh, no, no, I was just appreciating the vodka’s, uh… value.”

                                            “Want some more?”

                                            >”No! No, the night’s still young.”

                                            >She blushes a little, embarrassed by her sudden outburst of fear at the prospect of a second shot of the mislabelled paint thinner.

                                            “Well, here, I have something to wash that down. Just a moment, take a seat.”

                                            >Luna directs herself through the kitchen towards your living room, looking up a the candle-lit garlands and ornaments you’ve decorated with.

                                            >You give yourself a moment to admire the beauty of the Christmas lights reflected in her wide, starry eyes before making for your stovetop.

                                            >You’ve had a hot apple cider sitting just below a simmer for the last hour or so, wafting its cinnamon-nutmeg fragrance through your apartment tantalizingly.

                                            >You pour a couple in travel mugs, adding a hint of rum for flavour as you replace their lids.

                                            “Here you go. I was thinking we could go for a walk, check out some lights, that sort of thing. I think there’s a Hearth’s Warming choir performing in the town square, too.”

                                            >Luna takes a small sip, eyes lighting up as the spiced apple flavour hits her tongue.

                                            >”Oh my goodness that’s so much better than- Oh yes, of course! That sounds lovely. We’ll get through the vodka later.”

                                            >You raise an eyebrow.

                                            >”If you want to.”

                                            “We’ll see how we’re feeling. Come on, let’s get going.”

                                            >As you wrap yourself up in your scarf, boots and jacket, you hear Luna make a nearly-silent affirmation to herself under her breath.

                                            >”If you don’t have a plan, just get drunk with your man.”

                                            >What?


                                            >The cold air hits you with a forceful briskness the moment you open the door to the Canterlot street

                                            >Your breath comes out in vapour-white plumes, you feel your nose reddening and ice crystals start to form around your beard.

                                            >It’s a pleasant contrast to the toasty warmth of your apartment, and you breath deep of the fresh, pine-scented winter air.

                                            >Luna trails a half step behind you out the door, smiling serenely as she looks around at the sights of the quiet city street.

                                            >Some ponies walking by bow in a quick gesture of deference as they pass, but for the most part, the presence of a Princess amongst the Canterlot citizenry doesn’t cause much disturbance.

                                            >Something for which you’re very grateful.

                                            >Suddenly, you feel the firm tug of a magical aura on your hand.

                                            >You turn to its source and let it guide your hand to a warm spot on Luna’s back.

                                            >Smiling aggresively at you, Luna motions up the street with a turn of her head.

                                            >”Want to get going, Anonymous?”

                                            “Of course. Someone’s eager.”

                                            >You add the last remark with what you hope is a teasing, playful smile.

                                            >It may be the cold or the shitty vodka, but Luna’s cheeks under her velvet-smooth coat seem particularly red.

                                            >”Oh well, you know, I’ve been looking forward to tonight for a while.”

                                            “Me too. How long has it been since our last date? Two weeks, roughly?”

                                            >You knew full well that it had been 17 days since your last date with the ever-busy, nocturnal princess, but you didn’t want to seem clingy.

                                            >”17 and a half days. Not that I’ve been counting”

                                            >Unable to keep the smile from your face, you stop your languid walk down the snowy street to kiss Luna’s nose.


                                            >You two hadn’t actually kissed yet, and the gesture had become one of your favourite little expressions of love for the horse princess.

                                            >As you do, however, you feel the familiar tug of magical aura at the back of your head, moving your mouth downwards to where it meets Luna’s.

                                            >The kiss – your first kiss with Luna, your confused and flushed brain reminds you – is awkward.

                                            >Your lips press up against hers, your teeth very nearly driving up against your mouth before you realize what’s happening.

                                            >Her lips break contact, leaving yours tingling with the sensation in the cold air just as quickly as it had happened.

                                            “Uhhh”

                                            >If Luna’s cheeks were red a moment ago, it was nothing compared to their flushed hue now.

                                            >She averts her eyes, blushing furiously.

                                            >”Sorry, that was very unprincessly of me…”

                                            “No, no, it’s okay. It’s fine.”

                                            >You’re suddenly very aware of the possibility of gossipy, vigilant ponies watching from the many, many windows lining the street.

                                            >Time seems to have slowed, the snowflakes descending from above almost suspended in the air, breathless, waiting for the moment to end.

                                            >You watch them melt on Luna’s full, thick eyelashes, her cheeks, her lips…

                                            >You realize you’re staring, and cough under your breath in an awkward attempt at breaking the tension.

                                            “Unprincessly or not, that was good.”

                                            >It wasn’t, really, but you weren’t really sure what to make of it yet.

                                            >You rub her back reassuringly.

                                            “Want to keep going?”

                                            >Luna nods, clearly still embarrassed and at a similar loss for words.

                                            >Judging by the scrunching of her muzzle and hard line of her brow, she seems frustrated more than anything.

                                            >You walk together in silence for a block or so, the distant sound of Hearth’s Warming carols growing louder as you go.

                                            >Without the human option of holding hands available to you, you walk with your hand on her wither, feeling the muscles of her shoulder move under her coat with an easy grace as you keep pace with one another.

                                            >She’s wearing a decorative scarf for the occasion.

                                            >Most ponies could do just fine without winter gear in anything but the coldest of winter days, you’d found out.

                                            >Luna was no exception, and usually wore nothing except for her characteristic black peytral and horseshoes.

                                            >The change of costume was painfully cute, if you were being completely honest with yourself.

                                            >The silence had gone on long enough to the point of being nearly painfully awkward, and you decide to break it, for better or worse.


                                            “You seem… different, since the last time we went out.”

                                            >Your words snap Luna out of something of a reverie, and she turns to you apprehensively.

                                            >”Oh?”

                                            >You shrug, feigning nonchalance.

                                            “A little more forward, I guess. Not that that’s a bad thing.”

                                            >Luna gives a pained smile.

                                            >”Oh yes, I’ve been… ah, taking some classes the last few weeks.”

                                            “Classes.”

                                            >”Oh, you know-”

                                            >Luna waves a hoof around, searching for words.

                                            >”Manners classes. Er, mannerisms, I guess. Coaching? Social coaching.”

                                            >She frowns, and lowers her voice to a disgruntled mutter.

                                            >”Relationship advice.”

                                            >You almost snicker before you catch yourself, but Luna catches the trace of a smirk on your face.

                                            “You, relationship advice? No way. If anything, I’m the one who needs a relationship coach.”

                                            >You gesture to your very human, non-pony body, hoping to convey your social awkwardness in Equestria sufficiently.

                                            >That gets a giggle out of her, at least.

                                            >”Well you say that Anonymous, but I’m the one who was stuck on the moon for a thousand years. I was so out of touch, and being with you made me realize how behind the times I was.”

                                            >She sighs helplessly, and takes a sip of her cider.

                                            >”I was worried I was too old-fashioned and clumsy, so I took on a coach to help me catch up. Some motivational speaker minotaur with all these trendy catchphrases.”

                                            >Luna strikes an intimidating pose and puts on her best low, gruff, masculine voice.

                                            >”If you know he’s yours, you gotta use force! Things like that.”

                                            >Luna takes another dejected sip from her apple cider.

                                            “Ah, that makes sense. What the hell though, where did you find that guy?”

                                            >”My sister recommended him. She said he was very modern.”

                                            >Her eyes harden fiercely at the memory.

                                            “I think she might have been fucking with you.”

                                            >”It’s very possible.

                                            >She laughs a little, then, as the absurdity of the situation catches up with her, and you join her as her musical laughter proves too contagious to resist.


                                            >The rest of the walk proves much more comfortable, as you plan elaborate and ridiculous schemes together to get back at Celestia for her bullshit.

                                            >The sound of carols and the scent of pine, roasting chestnuts and warm spiced drinks grows ever stronger until you reach the town square.

                                            >The scene is full of lights, laughter, song and sensation, as winter solstice celebration is well and fully underway.

                                            >You buy Luna some snacks and trinkets from the street vendors, fighting off their insistences that they give their wares to the Princess pro bono.

                                            >After a short time you stop and stand together near the eaves of a decorated tree, listening to a stage quartet of musicians headlined by a talented grey-coated cellist performing traditional Equestrian carols.

                                            >Though alien to you, they remind you warmly and fondly of home.

                                            >Luna’s rapt, her eyes sparkling with joy at the scene before her.

                                            >So much was foreign to her after coming back to Equestria after a thousand-year absence, and you realize that these traditions must be one of the few things about modern Equestria that felt familiar to her.

                                            >You put your arm around her happily, letting the night’s tranquillity cover you like a warm blanket.

                                            >She leans into your arm, resting the weight of her neck and withers against you, letting her mane flow over your back in a magical cascade.

                                            >”Thank you, Anon. Sorry about everything, tonight.”

                                            “No, thank you, Luna. Tonight was wonderful, don’t let some Minotaur's bad advice get you down.”

                                            >”Speaking of ‘some Minotaur's bad advice’…”

                                            >She looks up at you, the familiar red flush of blush creeping up her cheeks.

                                            “Did you want to try that again?”

                                            >She smiles and cranes her head deliberately, slowly towards yours, closing her eyes.

                                            >You lower yours, your lips meet, and this time the kiss is warm, welcoming, soft as a snow bank and as gentle as a warm December night.