It had been a long, tiring night, but Celestia was finally sure that everything was ready.

Still, one last check couldn’t hurt.

“The attendees will arrive by evenfall, yes?” she asked, only half-listening to the answer as she looked around the hall.

“The expectation has been impressed upon them, yes,” answered her lead organizer, Big Pitch, “I’ve personally spoken to more than a few of the ponies you’ve invited, and I have no doubt that there will be a large crowd by then.”

“See that there is. I don’t want a half-empty ballroom when she arrives.”

“I’ll be personally overseeing the crowd, your highness. If it seems to sparse as the time approaches, I’ll deal with it myself.”

Celestia nodded absently. “And they’ll be a mix of different classes, of course? I don’t want only nobles. It needs to be a cross-section of all of Equestria.”

“Yes, you may have mentioned that once or twice.” Big Pitch barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “With all due respect, your highness, why don’t you leave the worrying to me? Everything’s set up, just the way you wanted it. If anything goes wrong, it won’t be because you forgot to check on it.” He met her eyes as she looked down at him, his expression somewhere between a smile and a smirk. “Anyway, if anything does go wrong, you’ve got me here to take care of it. Trust me, I’ve handled plenty of celebrations before, and this one’s going as smoothly as any of them.”

Celestia shook her head, but there was a twinkle of amusement behind the tiredness in her eyes. “I suppose you’re right, aren’t you? Forgive an old pony her worrying.” Big Pitch snorted, and Celestia looked up to the walls once more. “But this one… I would appreciate it, mister Pitch, if this one was perfect.”

“Perfect’s what I do, your highness.”

“Yes…” Celestia’s gaze wandered across the tapestries filling the hall, each depicting Luna in her role as tireless protector of the ponies of Equestria; here was one illustrating the time she had driven the ursa major away from Oxenford, there was another depicting her negotiating the Draconic-Equinnic Alliance with King Ferrous Draconis; there was one which showed her bringing dreams of peace and comfort to the children of Mareseilles after the Great Fire had left them homeless.

In a few hours time, the hall would be filled with ponies from across Equestria, some of whom had been among those children—but all of whom had been touched by Luna, in some way. All of whom had been invited to this celebration so that they could tell Luna how much she had done for them.

A cough from Big Pitch brought Celestia back to the present. “Yes,” she began again, “I’m sure it will be perfect, with you in charge.” Pitch smiled, and Celestia smiled with him. “Luna will be so surprised when she wakes up to discover all this. Thank you for your hard work.”

“Aw, it wasn’t really that hard. The toughest part was dealing with my micro-managing boss.”

Celestia laughed then. “I see how it is. Very well, mister Pitch, I’ll leave the rest to you.” She sighed. “I’m sure that with your help, Luna will see how much she’s loved.”

A guardpony stepped through the door at that moment, saluting smartly. “Begging your pardon, Princess, but the sun needs to be raised. It’s already a few minutes late.”

Celestia clucked her tongue. “Of course, of course. Thank you for the reminder.” The guard saluted again, then left. Celestia returned her attention to Big Pitch. “Luna and I will be back at sunset.”

He adopted a mock-serious expression, and mimicked the guard’s salute. “All shall be as ye would have it, oh Princess mine!”

Celestia laughed again, then left the ballroom. Stepping outside, she saw the full moon still high in the sky. Celestia looked up and down the roads; though it was nearly morning—though morning was late already—hardly anypony walked the streets, and those few who did kept their heads down and their gaits hurried. She shook her head.

After today, Celestia told herself, everything’s going to be better.

She reached beyond the horizon, and took the sun in her magic. With a gentle nudge, she urged the day to come forth, and the night to slip away.

The night did not retire.