//------------------------------// // Chapter 37 // Story: Luna's Lacunae // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Lucid dreaming. The strange in between state of dreaming and consciousness, when one realises they are dreaming and the dreamer attempts to take some control over their dream. Some dreamers might fly, others might re-experience a terrible situation and emerge triumphant, having finally changed everything that went wrong. For Maeve, the past few nights had been filled with dreams that she was a curious little rabbit with a cute, adorable twitchy nose, long ears, and a fluffy, fuzzy-wuzzy tail. She quite enjoyed these dreams, and it was getting easier to take control. For all intents and purposes, lucid dreaming was Maeve’s homework, given to her by Princess Luna, to help her learn to control her own dream magic. She had gone from being able to turn herself into a bunny to being able to manifest carrots in her dream—overall, a most enjoyable and pleasurable experience. Certainly better than carving her way out of a castle full of horrible goblins and treacherous fay. The nightmares were becoming fewer in number and Maeve was learning to forcibly exit a nightmare, a difficult, but not impossible feat. With the fewer nightmares, Maeve was becoming a much happier girl. In Maeve’s dream, she had endless green fields, blue skies, thickets, tall trees, perfect, white, fluffy clouds, with nothing troubling or upsetting. These were the dreams she had always wanted, these were the happy, life affirming dreams she had always desired. There could be no doubt, things were getting better. Blueblood awoke to the sounds of strange screaming, a piercing high pitched squealing screech that dove deep into his ear and right into his brain. He was out of bed in a second, on his hooves, and then he ran. He burst through the door to his chambers, out into the hallway, almost skidding, and right to Maeve’s door, which seemed to be the source of the screaming. He didn’t knock, nor did he hesitate, but he threw the door open and stormed inside, his horn blazing with eldritch fire, his teeth bared, and murder in his eyes, ready to give whatever was hurting his ward a good what for. He looked around the room and found nothing. His eyes narrowed and he glanced about, wary and cautious. His gaze fell upon the bed, which had something moving in it. He crept forward, horn glowing, ready for anything, or so he thought. He was not ready for what he found when he pulled back the blanket. There was a gasp from Blueblood when he saw the rabbit in the bed where Maeve should have been. A black rabbit with strange pink eyes, long, floppy ears, and a fluffy, fuzzy tail. The rabbit was screaming, it’s mouth open, its eyes wide with terror. It took several long seconds, but to Blueblood’s credit, he did realise that Maeve was the rabbit. He heard other guards arriving and he let out a sigh, wondering what to do, how to fix this, and how to make the rabbit stop screaming. “Maeve, can you hear me?” Blueblood asked, unsure if Maeve would be able to understand spoken language. Bjarke could understand spoken words in bear form, but Blueblood was making no assumptions. “Maeve… it’s me… be calm.” Relaxing his magic, Blueblood reached out and scooped up Maeve from her bed, lifted her, and cradled her in a bubble of telekinetic energy. He had a closer look at her. The inside of her ears were pink with tufts of white fur. Each of her four little paws were white. “Shh.” Blueblood lifted up a blanket and wrapped it around the terrified rabbit, and much to his relief, it began to calm. He could hear heavy breathing and a few muffled, whimpering cries, but the horrible screaming ceased. He glanced around the room, spotted Maeve’s clock, and noticed that it was about three ‘o'clock in the morning. At this time of night, there was only one thing to do, and that was to find Princess Luna. He hoped that she would know what to do. Ears perking, Blueblood realised that Bjarke should also be consulted as well. He turned to leave the room, carrying the still whimpering rabbit pressed close to his neck. Blueblood, nervous, stood at attention while Princess Luna examined the rabbit, fearing that somehow, he would be blamed for this. He and Luna did not always see eye to eye—there were things from the past that caused a bit of a rift between the two of them. “Well, this makes a lot of sense,” Princess Luna muttered as she stroked the rabbit’s ears with her wing. “Sense, Majesty?” Blueblood asked, curious about how this could possibly make sense. “While inside of Maeve’s head, inside of her own private dreamscape, I encountered a small, breathing stuffed rabbit. It was a most curious living thing, one of the many curious things that exist within her mind. At the time, it was puzzling, but now, now it all makes sense.” Princess Luna turned and looked at Blueblood. “At ease. It is too late at night to stand at attention.” Blueblood relaxed a little, but held on to his formal, starchy posture. He looked at the rabbit, which seemed calm and relaxed now. It was sitting in the middle of a wadded up blanket, looking around the room, its pink eyes glittering, and its cute little nose twitching. “Is she stuck this way?” Blueblood stood rooted to the spot, but he tilted his head as he studied the rabbit sitting on the blanket. “That is a good question. I know absolutely nothing about lagomorph shapeshifters.” Princess Luna returned her attention to Maeve. “Since entering adolescence and puberty, her magic is becoming stronger and a bit unstable, just like a unicorn.” Princess Luna moued, looking concerned. She thought of Maeve’s accident, setting her arm on fire. With sudden movement, she whirled about and faced Blueblood. “If she does become human again, she is going to need a nightgown. She has a real fear of nudity. I know you are not a common servant, but could go and fetch her bedclothing?” “I don’t mind at all.” Blueblood nodded, turned tail, and left the room at once. When Blueblood returned, he saw Bjarke. Bjarke, whatever he was, mystified Blueblood, but he rather liked the stern fellow. Bjarke had purpose, he had honour, and from what Blueblood could tell, Bjarke was now a faithful, devoted follower of Princess Celestia, a fellow guard. He carried with him Maeve’s clothing, which he had found in her bed, tangled up with her blankets. He had done his best to smooth them out, fold them, and he had dutifully carried them back to Princess Luna. He set them down upon the edge of the blanket where bunny Maeve was still sitting, then backed away to the door to stand and watch. “Our magic isn’t always controllable… especially when we are young. Maeve is becoming a woman, which is a wild, tumultuous time for our kind, and I’m not sure what having human blood is going to do to her.” Bjarke stood, ramrod straight, his hands folded behind his back. His blades, all of them, hung from his belt, and he wore a tabard emblazoned with the seal of the Royal Pony Sisters, a half sun, half moon merging together, the symbolic balance of light and darkness. “All the more reason to crack down upon Maeve and her magic lessons.” Princess Luna’s gaze fell upon the rabbit, which was grooming itself, rubbing its face and being adorable. “I have been far too lax. She exists in such a fragile emotional and mental state. I worried about putting too much strain on her. I fear I have made a mistake.” Luna glanced at Bjarke. “Tell me about the ljásálfar, how does your kind deal with magic and its instruction?” Bjarke shifted, looking a bit uncomfortable. He blinked, tilted his head back, and looked at the ceiling. His hands unfolded from behind his back, and one hand came to rest upon the pommel of his sword, the other began to rub his thin, pointed chin. “Our ways, our rituals, they have all but died out. The war has not been kind to us. We are refugees now… Alfheim was destroyed and laid to waste by the dokkálfar and the svartálfar, along with their allies in the Unseelie Court. I watched the fall of everything, but I have a long memory.” Bjarke closed his eyes and swayed from side to side. “As children, when our magic began to develop, we would be made to drink a draught made from the sap of sacred white oaks. It would give us visions. Make us see things.” Bjarke shuddered and his eyes opened. He looked at Luna, his expression one of intense pain. “I saw the utter end. That was my vision. I saw the fire, the blood, the burning, I saw it all end. It had a profound effect upon me as a child.” “I would imagine,” Luna said in a soft, gentle whisper. “I trained as a warrior, hoping that I could change the future somehow. Not all visions come to pass… I was assured that the future isn’t certain, but I cannot help but feel that I was lied to… to ease my mind.” Bjarke stiffened and his hand clenched the pommel of his sword. “After experiencing the dreaming way, we would begin magic instruction. For us warriors, it was harsh, brutal even. The weak were thinned out. Not killed, there were too few of us, but only the strongest, fittest, and the very best would earn the title of warrior. Near the end though, desperation drove us… our standards fell… and so many died in those battles.” Bjarke shook his head. “For the girls, their various gifts were divined, discovered… they were tested. Some became healers. Some became enchanters. There were spellcasters of every stripe, but the most important were the battle arcanists. They were the spellcasters equal to us as warriors. The defenders of our kind. They were few and far between. Only the greatest among us became battle arcanists. Maeve’s mother was slated for this path…” Bjarke’s words trailed off. “What happened?” Luna asked. Bjarke looked at Luna, his strange violet eyes locking onto hers. “Maeve, my sister, she knew of my vision. She knew the end was coming. She knew that there was no force in existence that could stop what was going to happen. She refused to take part in the mass suicide that my race committed, throwing themselves against impossible odds and dying terrible deaths on the many battlefields.” Luna let out a sad sigh and shook her head. “We left. She convinced me to betray my own honour and to go with her. Her reasoning, at the time, was sound. We had to live. Our kind had to continue. Otherwise, the light would extinguish and the darkness would conquer all.” Bjarke shook his head. “She kept her hope for a long, long time. Much longer than I thought she would. But with time and many passings of dear friends, loved ones, and with the destruction of Alfheim, Maeve slipped into hopelessness and despair. She could no longer bear the crushing weight of an immortal existence. She stopped believing in her own inspiring words and pithy phrases.” “Immortality is both a curse and a blessing,” Luna said in a solemn whisper. “Many seek it, and such an act is folly. Very few are capable of dealing with such long stretches of time. It requires a special sort of strength.” “It does indeed.” Bjarke relaxed a little bit and his hands folded behind his back once more. “If I may be honest, I am quite glad to have found this place. Princess Celestia is wise and kind. She knows the soul crushing weight of immortality. She knows the pain of loss as the eons stretch ever onward. The comfort she offers is sincere and spoken from the lips of one that truly knows the pain of so much loss.” “It helps to have a fellow immortal about,” Princess Luna said. As she spoke, she felt the crushing guilt of betraying her sister pressing down upon her. One thousand turns of the seasons, Celestia had been alone. Luna felt a painful lump in her throat, the old ache, the old pain that never seemed to go away. She blinked a few times and hoped that Bjarke did not notice the tears welling up in her eyes. “I have Maeve… at least for a while. She might live a hundred years, she could live for thousands. I am content with any precious time I might get from her.” Bjarke looked down at the rabbit sitting on the blanket. “When the end comes, and it will come, she is part human, I think I will stay with Princess Celestia… and you of course. I like this place and I do believe I can be a dutiful guardian.” Standing in the corner, Blueblood sighed. Immortals. He felt a strange pang of regret. Death would interrupt his duties and he would no longer be able to serve and protect his ward, his charge. The thought made him sad. Old age would rob him of his ability and his will to perform a meaningful task. “Bjarke,” Luna said in a low voice as she gestured towards Maeve, “tell me more about your kind. The more I know, the more I can help Maeve… she needs instruction… otherwise, we might be stuck with a thousand year old rabbit…”