It was the third year of the reign of Celestia, the Unconquered Dawn, Vanquisher of the Night and sole Princess of Equestria, and tonight she had thrown another grand party, one of the endless celebrations she found cause for each week.

The Princess roamed amongst the throng of ponies, and a drink always floated alongside her. She never stopped smiling, never stopped laughing, immersing herself in the energy of the crowd, yet always moving onwards, seeking...something.

And then her eyes fell upon him, and she smiled. The stallion was of hardy stock, fit and young, and most importantly, new. Yes. He would do.

“My, my, what brings you to my little...gathering?” she cooed as she stepped alongside him. Celestia laughed as he flinched, whinnied in startlement at her sudden appearance.

“P-Princess! I didn’t see you! I - well, that - this is a wonderful party!”

“That does not answer the question,” she chuckled, seating herself beside him. “Come, my little pony. What is your name? Where are you from?”

“H-Heart Throb, your highness. My mother is Duchess Rose Blush, and she could not come tonight, so she asked me to come in her stead.”

“You are Rose Blush’s colt?!” she cried out, turning heads, and then laughed and dropped her voice. “I had no idea she was keeping such a strapping young stud from me.”

“Yes, well, ah,” he began, “She had always said it was not time, yet, but this week she...said I had a duty to be here. That ‘The time has come for you to present yourself to the court’.”

“Really,” she said, and a faint batter of her eyelashes coincided with an ignored little voice in the back of her mind. “How fascinating. Would you do me the honor, perchance, of accompanying me this evening? The night is always far less cold when one has company to warm the heart.”

“I…” he began, and glanced about. A waiter had appeared beside him, and he took the drink offered, took a deep swallow, and then turned to her. “Yes, of course, Princess. It would be my...honor.”

As the night wore on, she plied him with honeyed words while the food and drink flowed freely, and she was always waiting his return those few times he found excuse to separate himself for more than a minute. She plied him with honeyed words, soothing away his nervousness until at the end of the night, she invited him to her chambers.

And there, beneath the Mare in the Moon whose visage Celestia would not look at, she lived as if the night would never end, as if morning would never come. She lived in the moment, refused to think of past or future. So long as she had something to cling to, something to hold, the rest fell away. She could deny the voice that called out to her, deny the sadness existed, deny that there was anything wrong.

There was only tonight. Only now. And when she finally fell asleep, she dreamt of running, fleeing a formless darkness she would not acknowledge.