Chapter Text
Once, long ago and far away, the Sun and the Moon met each sunrise and sunset at an old willow tree by a duck pond to exchange greetings and office. One summer evening, as the Sun approached their agreed-upon spot, the Moon met her with a larger than usual smile.
It was an evening made to smile upon. The deep indigo of the sky seemed so close and soft you’d need only stand on your tiptoes to reach up and run your fingers through its star-dusted velvet. Now and then a slight breeze would stir the warm air, setting the reeds sighing and the willow-leaves rustling, dragging ripples through the pond's reflection of the sky and surrounding woods. The rose-rimmed horizon was the only thing left of the day, growing dimmer with each step the Sun took.
“My dear Sun,” The Moon began when she entered the canopy of the willow’s branches, “I trust there was nothing to delay the passage of your official rounds?”
“Nothing whatsoever my dear Moon,” she returned, “I pray there has been no complaint?”
“No complaint” replied he, “But an observation my Lady of the Dawn; for though I spend my days perusing the astral libraries of Isis and Thoth, and contemplating the mysteries sacred and profane I cannot but notice that as of late your rays linger at the door of a certain blacksmith; you send the four winds to blow and stoke the fires of his forge, command the Brùnaidh to calm the horses that he shoes, and blaze so fiercely at the high noon he strips to his breeches when he works outside lest he die of the heat.”
And here the Sun smiled as well.
“You observe with as clear an eye as ever my Lord of the Dusk, but I wonder that you comment at all; for though I spend my nights ripening the fruits of the fields into their proper colors, and debating the Archons and Aeons in their immaterial halls, I cannot but notice that as of late your rays shine bright through the window of this same blacksmith; that you set your light upon his late night labors, that you hush the crickets 'round his dwelling lest he be disturbed in his sleep, and set the Hyades running about this countryside when he leaves his clothes to dry outside overnight, so he must collect them in the rain while bare-skinned.”
At this they both laughed, for they were after all the closest of friends
“Well you bring him up,” said the Sun at last, “For he is well worth speaking on; as comely as he is clever, and as clever as he is caring. If you are sincere in your pursuit of him, I will not obstruct, though it pains me to give him up.”
“Where comes this surrender before battle even declared? I speak not to stake my claim but to share it. Have we not since those most ancient of days shared one sky, one duty, one goal? Have we not on the days and nights of eclipse danced in each others arms, two halves of an essential whole? Let us court this charming mortal together, that our conquest may be all the more assured.”
“Ah!” And how the Sun’s eyes gleamed at that thought!
“But we tarry too long, I’m afraid” continued the Moon, “and already the owl and the wolf stir in their dens, and the lovers and poets cry to start to their pursuits. Let us talk more in the morning. ”
“Indeed, even now the skylark and hedgehog wend to their dens, and the farmers and merchants grouse to end to their labors. We shall indeed talk on the morrow.”
“Good night, Aurora”
“Good night, Astraeus”
And the Sun retired along her path, leaving the Moon to watch her retreat. Only once she’d disappeared into the woods, drawing down the last traces of pink and purple from the sky did he turn and continue into the night.