Sometimes, after a tiresome day, when the moon and stars showered overhead and the night beckoned for her company, Celestia dreamed of her childhood.

She dreamed of milky skies, of a time when Luna and her soared. Two youthful alicorns, lost in play, where the concept of life and death weren’t relatable, and almost even forbidden to even think about. 

During those times life wasn’t a challenge, but her life was filled with challenging Luna. Scavenger hunts.  Hide and seek. And racing. It was their favorite of an endless assortment games. They raced everywhere: through the courtyard, through the stratosphere, across the fertile sea. They raced against the Wonderbolts, soldier trainees, or Earth pony speedsters. And most of the time, they won. 

When they raced against each other, Celestia usually won. Luna called her a cheater because she was a foot taller, but they still kept racing nevertheless. Once, she posed a game to breach the open air—Luna, to the moon, while she, to the sun. Celestia knew she wouldn’t burn. It'd burn other ponies, it'd burn Luna. But not her.

The race never happened. It was deemed unfair. 

Sometimes, she was jealous of Luna’s mark. The moon was serene, almost majestic, and probably as cool as ice. 

But even ice can burn. Who knew that the moon and its long, cold stare, could burn such a hole through her heart? 

That was when Celestia truly understood life and death. And eventually, Spring came. 

***

Sometimes, Twilight would recall the time when she didn’t have wings. 

It was a curious time. What she lived for was studying and trying to live up to Celestia’s standards. 

Friend was just a word on a paper. An intrinsic notion that most ponies seemed to relate to, seemed to identifiably need, but it was something that Twilight, in all her delusions, felt was unnecessary. 

But then she had friends. Then she had wings. And then she could finally understand life from Rainbow’s perspective. 

But while Rainbow was born to fly, Twilight wasn’t. And, though she would never say this to her, Twilight knew that Rainbow didn’t truly understand what it meant to [i]fly[/i]. Certainly, Rainbow knew the feeling: the cold wind whipping her face, the steady beating of her wings with the tingling sensation of every feather building layer upon layer of airborne magic, and most importantly, the ecstasy and thrill of freefall where , for a moment, just for a moment, everything aligned, and you and the sky were one, and gravity and its indispensable laws of tethering you to earth, were unable to keep its grip on you.

For that moment, a barrier was broken. And the world and everything in it finally made sense. 

***

Sometimes, after waking from his long nap, nostalgia hit, and Spike would faintly remember the feeling of flying on Twilight’s back. He was a baby back then, a laughable youth, and even as he cringed at the naivety of that lifetime, he still missed those days. 

He used to love riding on Twilight’s back, but once he had outgrown Twilight, they flew together. Or, sometimes, Spike gave her a ride. Those were the later years, when her wings weren’t working as well as before. 

He had a late growth spurt, his wings growing as fast as his lanky, scaly body. And though he tried not to be, he had, in a sense, grown lazy. It was too be expected since he was a dragon. Being prone to sleep everything few years or so often made a dragon lazy, though Spike tried his hardest to combat it. 

Nowadays he was used to solitary flight. He’d travel the western skies, take in the smell of salt and sulfur as he rode to the Dragon Lands to have monthly tea with Ember. Sometimes, even Garble. Or he’d go back to Canterlot, and most often always, meet with Celestia. 

They’d talk about dreams. Of sights from long ago, if not from the present. 

“I dreamed of the Golden Oak today” or “I dreamed of the Equestria games,” he’d say. He tried not to give too much detail. 

But somehow, he’d still say it: “I dreamt about Twilight today.” 

“As did I,” Celestia would reply. 

And before the tears could come, they’d take to the skies. And though they both were two friends, with memories filled with a multitude of lifetimes, they still chased. Chased after their own lives, soaring after the unknown.