A strange silence fell over the throne room.
Only the crackling of the fire burning in the hearth broke the quiet, casting its light on the starkly different expressions of the two ponies.
Nightmare Moon remained standing where she was, her tall frame like a frozen sculpture.
Her slitted teal eyes were out of focus, clearly still reeling from the massive shock of Ye Ziji’s words, unable to calm down for a long time.
Seeing this, a flash of understanding crossed Ye Ziji’s eyes.
He knew that pushing too hard would only backfire.
Now was the time to give this queen—whose heart was already riddled with holes—an out, a way to gracefully set aside her misplaced pride and bewilderment.
In fishing, one had to give and take.
He wiped the sincere, earnest expression from his face and resumed his deferential demeanor.
Stepping with measured paces, he walked up to the base of the dais leading to the throne.
Without raising his head, he bowed slightly and spoke in a soft, thoughtful, yet respectful tone:
“Your Majesty, it is much more comfortable to ponder matters while sitting down. That seat is waiting for its master.”
His words were like a gentle breeze, blowing away the chaotic thoughts swirling in Nightmare Moon’s mind.
She snapped back to reality, her gaze refocusing and landing on the Unicorn before her.
She gave him a long, deep look.
Her eyes held a chaotic mix of complex emotions—the shock of having her thoughts laid bare, confusion at his “thoughtfulness,” a reassessment of his motives, and perhaps even a sliver of comfort, which she herself had not yet realized, from being understood by another pony for the first time after a thousand years of solitude.
In the end, she said nothing more.
Withdrawing her gaze, she slowly turned to face the throne that belonged to her.
Lifting her hooves, she climbed the steps one steady pace at a time.
Her movements were elegant and solemn, full of royal dignity.
The moment she finally sat upon that cold stone throne, a long-lost sense of absolute control returned to her.
Sitting on high, she looked down at the entire hall, down at Ye Ziji below.
The physical height allowed her to reclaim a touch of sovereign majesty and composure.
She was ready—ready to continue this conversation in the manner of a queen.
Yet, just as she adjusted her mindset and prepared to speak again, Ye Ziji’s actions below completely caught her off guard once more.
Once he saw that she was safely seated, the respectful expression on Ye Ziji’s face vanished without a trace.
In its place was his signature lazy look, as if he had discarded a disguise.
He stretched casually and flicked his tail, making it seem as if the earnest, humble subject from moments ago had been nothing but her hallucination.
He didn’t even spare her another glance on her throne.
Instead, he turned around and strolled back to the stone pillar from earlier.
Using the wind element to float himself back up, he resumed his unfinished, meticulous restoration work.
Now, he was going back to minding his own business.
The atmosphere in the throne room became incredibly bizarre at this moment, yet it carried an indescribable sense of harmony.
A lonely queen sat upon her reclaimed throne, lost in thought.
Meanwhile, beneath her throne, her first subject was leisurely sweeping and tidying, completely ignoring her presence as if no one else were there.
***
Time flowed quietly amidst the crackling of the fire.
Ye Ziji’s restoration work finally came to a temporary close.
He cleaned out the last crack in the relief carvings, admiring his masterpiece with satisfaction for a moment.
Then, he exhaled a long breath, his focused expression instantly replaced by laziness.
Under the watchful gaze of Nightmare Moon’s sharp eyes from atop the throne, he let out an incredibly exaggerated stretch, the joints in his limbs popping with a series of soft clicks.
He wiggled his body and flicked his tail, as though what he had just finished wasn’t a mentally draining, delicate task, but merely some ordinary manual labor.
Right after that, he did something that made Nightmare Moon’s pupils contract sharply.
He did not ask to be excused, he did not bow, and he didn’t even look at her again.
He simply strolled directly beneath the throne, sat down on the floor about ten hoof-steps away, completely at ease.
Then, adjusting his posture, he finally stretched his entire body out flat.
Utterly disregarding her presence, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he lay lazily on the cold but clean stone floor, closed his eyes, and began to rest.
Sitting high up on her throne, Nightmare Moon was utterly stunned.
Her mind went temporarily blank.
What…
what was he doing?
How dare he?
To lie down and rest so presumptuously right beneath her throne?
To lie beside her with such peace of mind?
Looking at the sprawling figure below, an unprecedented wave of shock mixed with absurdity washed over her.
A flare of indignation at being offended began to rise from the depths of her heart.
This was a direct provocation of her royal authority.
According to the protocol engraved deep within her soul for over a thousand years, she should have spoken immediately, commanding him to get up from the floor in her coldest, most majestic, and solemn voice, demanding he repent and apologize for his impudence and transgression!
The impulse was so strong that the scolding words had already rushed to the tip of her tongue.
She hesitated.
That command symbolizing a queen’s absolute authority, which was on the verge of escaping her lips, felt blocked by an invisible barrier.
Try as she might, she could not utter it.
Why?
Why did she hesitate?
Was it because he had just restored this cold castle ruin?
Was it because his actions had proven his “sincerity”?
Was it because of the flattery and praise he had showered upon her earlier?
Or was it because…
she was afraid?
When this thought crossed her mind, she found it absurd and ridiculous.
She—the Queen of Eternal Night, the mistress of the moon, the wielder of nightmare power, the future ruler of Equestria, Nightmare Moon—afraid?
How could that be!
Could it be…
that she was afraid that if she spoke, she would shatter this bizarre yet oddly peaceful silence, leaving this place to become nothing but a cold throne and a realm of absolute solitude once more?
Was she afraid that this creature—the only being who could stand in the same room as her without trembling in fear—would change, becoming just like those ignorant, ordinary ponies who feared and shunned her?
She…
did not know.
A thousand years of exile had left her with an almost pathological craving for any form of “companionship.”
Even if this companionship was presented in a manner that was far from proper royal etiquette.
But—as long as it was companionship, it was enough.
Nightmare Moon fell silent.
Her eyes simply watched, quietly and steadily, the Unicorn resting peacefully beneath her throne.
She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, feeling his very real, calm presence as he lay there defenseless, lazily resting beneath her throne.
The majestic indignation that had been rising within her quietly fizzled out before she even realized it.
Forget it.
In the end, she still did not speak.
She chose to acquiesce.
Acquiescing to this offense, acquiescing to this companionship.
Acquiescing to this pony, her very first subject, falling fast asleep beneath her throne.