//------------------------------// // The Answer From Out of the Storm // Story: Have You Considered My Servant, Twilight? // by Cynewulf //------------------------------// There was a storm that night. Of course there was. Twilight Sparkle had overheard Rainbow talking about it at lunch. She’d been there, but more in spirit than in truth. She’d not slept in days, and it had showed. Rarity had spent most of their weekly lunch date fretting over her, and frankly Twilight had sort of not minded. Partially because minding took effort, and she had little energy for effort. Partially because she was… rattled. Rattled was a good word for it. She hoped it hadn’t come across in her letters. She fervently hoped it didn’t. Her mantra as the sun slowly rose over a sleepy Ponyville had been keep it together, Sparkle, keep it together. It was stupid. It was really, really stupid. Nightmares are things that vanish when one wakes. The others had been that way. But last night… last night was different. She’d woken in a cold sweat, fumbling for her own name. Every little thing had been frightening. The sound of her hooves against the cold floors, the rustle of her own sheets as she left the bed, the sound of tea brewing. All of it. The scratch of her own quill had threatened to drive her mad. Of course, even such a state as that did not linger without some alteration. She’d gotten better. But as soon as Rainbow had mentioned that storm… for a moment, perhaps for the first moment, the powerful temptation to abuse her new royal privileges had been overwhelming. Twilight had opened her mouth to call it off, and stalled as an eager Rainbow Dash was halfway through describing how “awesome” it was going to be to a bemused Applejack. And then she’d gone home, made sure Spike kept everypony politely out of her mane, and slept all day long. And that brought her to here. To this moment. Sitting at her private desk near the window of her own bedchamber, looking at Luna’s reply. Twilight Sparkle, There will be no more dreams. I will see you tonight. I pray you sleep well. Luna And that was it. That’s all she wrote. Twilight read it for the twentieth time. She had counted. Precision was important. It wasn’t exactly what she’d hoped for. Yes, Luna had said she would help. The letter was technically affirmative. But it was also laconic, and that was troublesome in a wholly new way. Luna’s correspondence had always been delightful precisely because it was so florid and passionate. This was the mare who drew all over her missives, including everything from unflattering but frankly hilarious caricatures of her sister and various dignitaries to, twice now, full portraits of herself and of Twilight and oil paints. She had written reams in complicated, archaic verse—in another language, even!—and expected prompt replies. Twilight had found it insanely difficult, taxing, and deeply enjoyable. And here was a letter that was a single line on a page. Well. Three lines. One was actual body-text, and the other two were just names. So basically one line. The point was that it was unnerving. A quick glance around the bedroom—still brightly lit, possessing perhaps one of the only windows through which light still shone at this hour—and saw nothing. No threats, no monsters, no dumbfounded Celestia. Just the room. When she had been small, Twilight had learned to calm her fears this way. What are you afraid of? And then focusing on the present. It was easy, too easy, to fear what may or may not come. Luna said there would be no more nightmares, and Luna would be the one mare who could say that with the most unshakeable conviction, and that should be enough. It would be enough. Her gut feeling be damned, Twilight Sparkle would take it. Or she would aggressively try to and lie in bed worrying about it until she wore herself out. Which was, functionally, the same thing. Probably. With an aggressive suddenness, Twilight pushed away from her desk and stood on her own four legs for a moment. She turned stiffly towards her own bed, stared at it for a moment, felt incredibly silly about her own worry, and turned in for the night. And outside, the storm continued. Luna, in Highest Canterlot, stalked the private galleries of her sister like a revenant. Celestia, for the first time, joined her. They did not speak. They had spoken already. Instead, Celestia watched her sister inspect the damage her outburst had done, and look to the other pieces. One by one, she approached them, taking measure of her sister’s craft. Her preferred medium had been paints and charcoal, but Luna was no stranger to the shaping of primordial forces. She herself had played with fire and ice as a simpler, happier alicorn upon an ancient tableland. If she were honest, some of the allure of more traditional forms of expression had laid in how they were received. Her elemental creations had always… troubled. That was the word. They were troubling. Another difference, she thought sourly as she admired Celestia’s statuary. She recognized the scene—another of Maldon, their worst and greatest hour, back to back upon the beaches stained with blood, captured forever in onyx that glowed with pleasant, low light. The light gave it a strange quality, hazy yet likelife, as if the small Luna with her hammer held high was not merely a graven image but a small mare on the move. Ah, she saw how it was done now. The stone was but a canvas, the light an illusion. No, not an illusion. She was confidant that it would be solid to the touch. Celestia had always played with light, and she had always reveled in darkness. Both had felt secure in safe in their choice, both enjoying wholesome and honest in their manipulation of their Glory. The older sister found being fully exposed to the light calming, and it baffled the younger sister who lounged in thick shadows and felt safe and at perfect peace. They understood that there was no harm in opposites. Others had not been so understanding. Maldon. She had been far happier before that lonely island and its proud city. It was a tale she might tale some other time, to some other pony, for her sister knew it as well as she. Words flowed from her easily, from some other place. Thought shall be harder, hearts the keener Courage the greater, as our might lessens. And Celestia, continued in a voice so soft that perhaps only Luna could have heard it from where she stood, slipping back into the old tongue they had sang in those days. “Old in age am I; I will not hence. By my lady will I die, my lady dearly loved.” “Aye,” Luna said evenly. “She was a wonderful mare.” “She was. And to see me in my current state would have driven her to mad grief, sister.” “She would have shared in your sorrow, Luna.” “Aye.” “Is it time?” “Almost.” They were silent again. Luna moved on from the battle, moved on from the visions of the past where she held aloft a hammer which felled cities and drank delight of battle with her peers. Those were long gone times. No more returning. “She is probably asleep by now,” Celestia said. “Are you ready?” “No.” “That’s unfortunate. But you are going, are you not?” Luna winced. There was steel there. Not a lot. A little. Enough. “I am going. I do not yet know what I will say. Some of what I will say, certainly. But… but how one frames a thing is important,” she said. “How one explains it. How one…” “May I offer a suggestion?” Celestia said, softer now. “I suppose. Proceed.” “Perhaps you should put the pageantry aside. All of this… mess,” she paused, hesitated for just a moment, “All of it arose out of your need for pageantry, Luna. Trials and tests, invoking the Deep Magic. If you would choose a starting point…” Luna nodded stiffly. “Perhaps.” “Be that as it may… the hour is late.” “Aye.” Silence. “Tia?” “Yes?” “You, ah… You mentioned to me that you had trouble sleeping. On the first night.” Luna looked down at the ground. “Would you—” “Yes. I would appreciate your blessing.” Luna looked up, startled. “You would?” And Celestia smiled at her. “Yes, I would. I will count on you for good dreams, Luna. As I did before.” “As you did before,” her sister replied faintly. She leaned forward as Celestia bowed her head, and their horns touched briefly. She glowed, but only for a moment. “I will retire now. Shall I see you in the morning?” “I hope. I am sorry, sister.” “I know.” Outside, the storm raged unabated. Luna looked out into the night, and saw the storm. Something in her approved of its savagery. She shared the pegasus’ love of the wild wind and the pounding rain. She’d stalled. She’d waited and waited and the night had sunk deeper and the storm had raged and… Now was the time. She strode to her bed and laid down, still looking out her balcony, still watching the rain and the occasional lightning, still watching the curtains buffeted by strong winds. She did not close the doors. She cared very little about such trifling things. Her mind was already somewhere else. And soon, her body followed. The Aether, shining and beautiful, filled with the dreams met her but she felt no joy. She hardly noticed most of them. She had already visited her sister’s dreams and crafted them with all of her heart, but it had not helped her mood much. She swam to Twilight, and Twilight’s dream rose to met her from the field of sleepers. She did not touch it. She did not alter it. This time, she dove in, squeezed all of herself down into the small infinity of Twilight Sparkle’s dreaming. Twilight Sparkle was back in her library again, sorting books. Curiously, she never seemed to run out of books. The pile beside her never shrank. But this didn’t bother her. Nor did the storm outside. Until, all at once, it did bother her. Deeply. Everything did. She dropped the book that she had been shelving, and stared in disbelief as it hit the floor and evaporated. She turned to the pile to see the same volume lying on the top. More than that, that every book in the stack was the same copy. The shelves—all of them the same book over and over. She stepped back, confused. “What? What is this? I… I’m dreaming.” She blinked. “This is a dream. I… I know that. I was lying in bed, and then…” A crash of lightning. She jumped. “R-right. Right, it’s storming, of course I can hear it. Do dreams work that way? Like…” she shook her head. “I’ll ask Luna next time I see her.” She looked around, still unsure. Everything was just slightly off. The table in the center of the room was too small, and the old bust on it too large. The books were all the same—she tried not to think about that too much, it made her a little anxious—the windows were warped. The stairs actually hurt her eyes to look at because she was mostly sure what she was seeing was not possible. Angles didn’t work that way. She looked away quickly. Right! Dreams. That was interesting. Only one mildly disturbing thing so far, which to be honest in her usual line of study was actually pretty great progress. Magic got a little unfortunate some times. Now, if only the storm would die down, so she could go outside and see what the town looked like… Maybe not, if the stairs and their uncomfortable twisting was any indication. Still, it would be nice if she could find some way to talk to Luna. This was already better than the last three nights, but now she had several hours of nothing to do but sit. No books, in an environment she didn’t understand. Well, it was a dream. She cleared her throat and spoke to the air. “Luna? Hey, if you can hear me… I’m guessing you did this. I appreciate you answering but, I’m not sure what’s going on. Could you come down here?” Nothing. Obviously. She sighed. Twilight laid down on the floor and thought of her two letters again. Celestia’s reply had been wonderful, even if she’d been so nervous reading it. So gracious, even with Twilight’s weird twisted confession. Twisted is a bit harsh, don’t you think? She thought, frowning. Still. It had been awkward, and then it had been wonderful. Young Twilight may be a bit put out about not being the Princess’ purple paramour, but she would have been giddy at the idea of being honest to goodness penpals with Celestia. So, all in all, it was a win-win. More time passed. She tried again. “Luna? Hey… are you there? I mean, this probably won’t work. I don’t really understand how your powers work. Actually, in hindsight, I’m amazed I haven’t pestered you to distraction about that yet…” She coughed. “Anyhow, it would be awesome if I could get some explanation here. Or… I don’t know, anything? Cause I was also wondering about having nightmares back to back. I mean, I didn’t wanna say anything, but don’t you usually keep that from happening? At least, I think you do. Annnnd I’m talking to myself. Because it’s just me. Alone. In the weird dream library. Awesome. Well, I—” There was a crash of lightning so loud she had to cover her ears. Twilight cried out and shied away from the noise, but it was everywhere. Which was what her library wasn’t after another crash. The walls didn’t break up so much as dissolve. It was as if some god had plucked her library like a flower from the ground. It just… left. All of it, at once, tearing up from the foundation and littering the air with debris. But none of it came back towards her. The winds howled. It wasn’t a storm. It was a whirlwind. She could see it all now, without the walls to muffle the sound and the fury. The town was in shambles, pieces flying off to join the great cloud wall bearing down on her. She tried to pick herself up and run, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. Something was here. Something beyond the whirlwind, heavy and imposing, something that warped the world and bent it to a new shape to fit its own design. Absurdly she thought of the world as a great sheet stretched out with a cannonball dropped in the middle. The tornado plowed right through Sugarcube Corner, and a terrified Twilight whimpered as it came closer and closer. “Luna? Luna! LUNA, FOR STAR’S SAKES!” It ate up the street. It flung doors and crossbeams. It devoured the thatch roofs of quaint Ponyville. Closer. Closer. Shards of glass like knives flitted through the air. Twilight had never felt what she felt now. Terror, yes, she knew it well. Fear for life and limb, certainly. But awe of this type was new. This was power. It was raw, devestating, apocalyptic power. The old ponies had worshipped many things, and some worshipped still the stars in the sky and named them one by one, but this was a power that deserved terrified worship. It was going to swallow her whole without even knowing. “Luna? Luna, please, where are you? Answer me!” She struggled to her hooves. It stood at the door, or where the door had been, once. But her legs would not obey her fevered commands to flee. The storm marched, and she screamed Luna’s name as it devoured her. But she was not destroyed. She was not harmed. The storm was everywhere now, and she was in its heart, wind and smoke and lightning and detritus flying. The storm answered her. “You called for me.” Twilight stared up, hoping to see Luna, but saw only a growing darkness, formless, shifting. Nothing made sense. It was as if her eyes had simply failed. The storm, the darkness, none of it. She comprehended nothing. “Luna? Luna, where are you?” Luna answered her. “I am here, Twilight Sparkle. I have come as you asked, to give you the answers you wished but would not seek.” “What? What the h-hell are you talking about?” Lightning. “Ask yourself: why else would nightmares come to you, most beloved of Ourselves as the catalyst of our salvation? Three nights of nightmares without rescue? Ask yourself what this could mean!” Twilight grit her teeth. “I don’t understand! If you were angry with me for asking for help, then why—” And then she arrived. She being the last mare Twilight had expected, the one she had hoped not to see again. Nightmare Moon fell like a shooting star, wrapped in billowing smoke and ashes followed in her wake. Where she landed split as if torn by earthquake, warped as if strangled with magic, and began to come unglued. Reality itself around her—as real as a dream could be, and Twilight felt it was very real—phased and twisted in accordance with her progress as she strode towards the still struggling Twilight. “No.” Twilight shivered as she said it. She repeated it again and again, as if that would change anything. “You… you can’t! Please, Luna, don’t tell me… I don’t know what’s happened, but we can fix this! We can…” “It is time for you to be quiet,” Nightmare Moon hissed. “And it is time for you to listen. I will explain myself to you.” Twilight, and she was ashamed to admit it, whimpered. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Luna… what does this all mean?” “I have tested you. Three nights and three trials. Behold!” And, striding out of the storm, came two mares: Luna and Celestia. Celestia was different, strange and foreign. She shone like the sun. Her eyes were fire, and her hooves were burnished bronze. Her mane was color itself. Her wings were gold. And Luna was a creature the likes of which Twilight had never seen. Fangs peeked out from her lips and around her pooled night itself. Her mane was full of stars and her eyes were black as onyx. Nightmare Moon circled and stood beside her. Twilight shivered, but the spectre of evil did nothing to her. “Listen,” she said, and like that the roar of the storm faded to a distant rumble. “One day, two sisters spoke to each other, the older ready to retire for the evening and the younger coming to present herself.” Celestia, with a smile that was equal parts imperial and familiar, spoke. “And where have you come from, sister?” And the Luna before her answered. “From roaming to and fro along the earth, and in dreams, back and forth. I have seen many things and delighted in none of them. The world is a trick.” She almost sneered it. It was shocking to see Luna so… “Ah. And have you considered my servant, Twilight? There are few like her, blameless and upright, possessed of integrity without question and courage without faltering. Surely this would please you.” Neither noticed her. It was like watching a play. Luna answered, again with a sneer. “Ah, does Twilight not fear her princess for nothing? Have you not put a hedge about her house and a guard at her door? Have you not paved a path for her through every wilderness? You have blessed the works of her hooves and horn, and multiplied her possession tenfold, set her up in a palace all her own and given her every honor. Ah, but if you were to retract your aegis but for a moment…” Luna shrugged. Celestia frowned. “Very well. Ask her yourself if you must, and try her with words, and you will surely see what she is made of, sister.” But Luna shook her head. “No, words are for the weak and the dying, the little ones that rot away with time. But if I were to reach out and strike what she has, not even overturn but upset it, then perhaps she would curse you to your face.” Celestia’s aura no longer glowed. It was not light but fire. She seethed in a way more intense than Twilight had thought possible, and had she been able she would have cowered. Already just being near them was starting to weigh on her. What was this? Why did they appear so, and act so? What did this mean? “You will not touch her, nor strike her, nor in anyway will I allow you to harm her.” “Ah, but you know the Law.” Celestia stomped her hoof, and fire spread from the cracks she left in the library’s foundations. “I know the Law, the Deeper Magic. So do you! Leave off this foolishness.” “I will not.” “Then I bind you: you will touch no hair upon Twilight Sparkle’s head, nor harm her surroundings or her friends, nor shall you wound in anyway a single pony in the material world. I cannot stop you in the realm you rule alone, but if you bring your madness into mine--” “Then I will not,” Luna cut her off. Celestia seemed to want to say more. But before she could, the images vanished, and Nightmare Moon took her place before an astonished Twilight. “So the wager,” she began. “Aye, so I touched no hair upon your head nor dealt any wound to your loved ones, and yet still I tested you. I am Luna, Luna as she has always been.” “No, you’re a nightmare,” Twilight said. “Luna, this… if this is you, stop all of this and just talk to me!” “I need to know how you endured,” Nightmare Moon continued. “How? Even when I went beyond the bonds of decency, even when I broke the oaths I made to myself, even then! Why does your heart stand fast? Why do you not…” the Nightmare growled. “Why will you not yield to yourself?” “Because they were dreams!” Twilight shouted. “And they didn’t happen! They aren’t real!” “But you did not know that at the time.” “And because this is stupid! Luna, please, just…” “I have come to you as I am. This is closer to the truth. I have sought answers from you and found none! What helped you to stand fast where… where…” She stopped. The Nightmare… No. Luna’s chest heaved. Twilight saw her fully now. Her eyes were wild. Dressed in armor and taller than what Twilight was used to, fearsome in every way, and yet. And yet. So she softened her tone. “Luna. Please release me. Don’t… you don’t have to impress me.” The Nightmare flinched. “I have not done this for you!” “I didn’t say you had. I said you don’t need to impress me. What I probably should have said is that you don’t have to hide from me.” The Nightmare flared with magic and the storm increased. I AM NOT HIDING. “Yes you are!” Twilight struggled to keep from shouting. “You are. I… okay, so you gave me nightmares because… I don’t even know! You’re stuck in some kind of weird need to play a part and you don’t have to!” The Nightmare seethed. “You don’t have to. Just be Luna, and I’ll just be me. Explain it. Explain yourself.” Her tormentor backed away. “Please.” And, bit by bit, the storm died. The winds stopped howling. The flying debris vanished. The lightning did not strike and the thunder did not sound. Nightmare Moon remained herself. “You form.” “It is fitting.” Twilight sighed. “Can I move? Yes, okay, I can move my legs… thank the stars. Luna, what is the meaning of this?” “I don’t know!” It was not what she’d expected because it was raw and almost maddened. “I don’t know!” “You know. I mean… you put all this effort into it.” “Because I was desperate! Because I… I…” The Nightmare dissolved. Luna diminished. She looked like she had before, small and fragile. She looked like the Luna that Twilight had first seen, shivering on the floor of an ancient ruin. “Because if I could lose myself and be as old and as experienced and loved as I was, then why can’t you? You… You don’t understand.” Twilight closed the gap between them, and knew she was right. She was in the dark. But she saw pain and she reacted with blind uncertain bravado. She hugged a stiff, panicked Luna. “I don’t. Tell me. Why did you do this?” “I don’t know,” she said, miserably. Twilight released her. “Then I’ll wait until you do.” The scene changed. Luna lay again on the floor, but bound like a criminal. Twilight sat upon a high seat, like an ancient warlord in judgement. Luna spoke. “Have you ever done something so awful that you wanted to die?” Twilight sputtered. “N-no? No, I haven’t.” “Something so great that not even a city could cover it?” “Luna, is this about…” “Don’t call me that. Please.” “It’s your name.” “It was. When I was Just Luna. Merely Luna.” “Your sister forgave you.” Twilight refused to be apart of this charade. This was ridiculous. She left the chair and started to pull on the chains, but they refused to move. “She shouldn’t have!” “Isn’t that her choice?” The scene changed. Twilight knew this place. Everfree, in its old glory. Celestia, flat upon the ground. They stood on either side of her body. “I am a kinslayer,” Luna said hoarsely. “And yet she lives.” “Aye, but she might not have! Not because I spared her!” “And yet she lives,” Twilight repeated. “She forgave you. The past is done with, Luna.” The scene changed, but this time a frustrated Twilight tried to alter it herself. She thought of herself and Celestia, after the debacle with Smarty Pants. She visualized it, focused on how it felt and what it was like. They stood on either side of a miserable unicorn Twilight and her disappointed teacher. “It wasn’t so bad,” Twilight said. “It could have been worse. This isn’t a comparison. But she forgave me too. I shamed all of her teaching, betrayed the trust of my neighbors, played with ponies like toys. She forgave me too.” “It isn’t the same.” “It’s not. It doesn’t have to be! Don’t be stubborn. Please don’t,” she added. “Luna, do you not trust me?” “I want to.” “Do you trust your sister?” “Yes.” Twilight sighed and sat. Celestia lectured silently between them and she tried not to look. “You decided to test me. But why? Because you thought I would betray you or her or…” Luna also sat. Celestia and her student faded. They were in the library, pristine as it had been. “I am no longer sure,” she began. “At first, I told Celestia that I feared you would make my mistake because you were young. I thought surely I could tempt you in dreams and a bad reaction would prove my case. I did not want to discredit you, or so I thought. I merely wanted to show my sister that her trust was too blind.” “But why? Do you really worry that she’s wrong about me?” Twilight tried to keep the hurt out of her voice but failed. She looked away. The idea of Luna really believing that any moment she would turn on her friends, turn on Celestia was painful. When Luna didn’t answer, Twilight looked up. And then it was Luna’s turn not to meet her eyes. “No. No, I think perhaps I wanted her to be less sure of me.” “I thought, with the tantabus… hadn’t we…” “Not all troubles are worked out in one go, like knights at tilting,” she replied with something like a smile. “The more I try to explain myself to myself, the more I come back to how easy it was. To come back fueled by my old madness and be forgiven so readily. How do you live up to that? But it is worse than that even still.” The scene changed. Twilight stood in Ponyville’s town hall, and Luna was on the balcony, the one she had stood on so proudly, so defiantly the first time Twilight had ever seen her. “Do you remember? Filled with ambition, yes, but with something darker still. Despair is a powerful thing, Twilight. Insidious, aye, but we make too much of that sometimes. Methinks perhaps its true nature is closer to fangs at the throat.” And she bared her own again, and Twilight shivered. “I felt a kind of burning madness, but I was frightfully sane. Like wine without the dulling of the senses, all force and no motive but to kick at the legs of the world until it broke.” “And you changed.” “Have I? I reached in your heart and drew out the first agonizing thing I could find, with little regard. I was so overcome by my need to, I don’t know, either best you or pull you down to dwell with me below that I overstepped all bounds. Once, I did just what I did to you. But you experienced it once, and they a thousand times. Did you feel different in the morning?” Twilight felt cold. “Yes.” “Aye, so you should. Weak, perhaps? Frightened? Confused? Cold? So did they, again and again. You think of me as a boon companion, but what do you know of me?” “I know that you’re my friend. I know that you’re better than this.” “Then you don’t know me at all.” Twilight growled. “Luna, what do you want? For me to hate you? Do you just want me to tell you that you suck? Is that what you want? Because I’m not going to do it.” “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” “Alone? You have a sister! She lives in the same palace!” “And she’s blind. But you aren’t anymore. You know what I’m like now! You know what I’m capable of, don’t you?” Luna asked. She leaned over the balcony. They were silent for a bit. Luna deflated. She sat back on her haunches. She covered her eyes. “Twilight,” she began again. “I am struggling. I’m so… I am so angry. I do not know why. I am not even angry at you, but at myself. I came here to apologize and all I’ve done is frustrate you and be… aggrandizing.” “Then stop it. You don’t have to. I don’t bite.” The corner of Luna’s lips turned up, but then her expression flattened again. “I spent the majority of my waking hours vacillating between pathetic misery and righteous loathing, both directed at myself, over myself. As you have noticed, I lack my sister’s self-control.” “Ponies are different. You don’t have to be like Celestia.” “Such words you speak, and yet!” Luna chuckled weakly, and Twilight flushed. “Okay, I get it. That’s a bit rich coming from me, but honestly who else would know better?” “That is a valid point, I suppose.” “So you want to trust me, but feel you can’t. You trust your sister. You wish she wouldn’t trust you. You’re afraid of what you are and who you are. Am I getting this so far?” “Aye.” “You came here to apologize, and you were afraid to do it. I was going to ask if I was right, but you’re nodding so I’ll keep going. What frightens you so much about Celestia loving you?” “She loved me last time.” “Don’t you think you’ve learned from last time? You aren’t that pony anymore.” “I want to be. She was whole!” Twilight flared her wings, took to the air, and landed on the rim of the balcony beside Luna. Glad that its easier to balance in the dream. “No you don’t. She was a you that didn’t have what you have. Namely, the knowledge that you gained the hard way.” Tentatively, carefully, Twilight reached out and touched Luna’s foreleg. When Luna did not pull away, she continued. “I’m hurt. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m hurt that you didn’t feel able to trust me. I’m hurt that instead of just asking me for help, you went through all of this… as if I wouldn’t have always wanted to help you. And, yes, you kind of dug up some unfortunate stuff and aired my dirty laundry.” “Dreams formed from the threads… ah, you would not know. The dreams woven from what I find in a pony’s heart I do not make myself. I was trapped in it much as you were. When I realized what lay ahead… I do not know how I can ever undo it.” “You can’t,” Twilight said, and then took a deep breath. “You can’t, but you can be sorry, and you are. You know what? If anything, I think it shows you’re not the only one who's got insecurities locked away. You aren’t some solitary broken being in a world of perfect statues.” “I know.” “Do you?” she did not say it angrily. “Do you really? Because I don’t think you did. I think you acted without really thinking, without stopping to wonder how much of what you perceived was true and how much of it you were forcing to appear true, because you were hurt and angry and frustrated with yourself and you lashed out. And, yes, I feel a little betrayed.” Luna whined softly. “But…” Twilight sighed. “You can’t drag somepony down to be with you. You don’t even belong there. You haven’t been testing me. I think you wanted to test yourself, and I think you failed. Is that fair?” “Yes.” Twilight chuckled softly. “You know, I used to panic about tests. Even when there was no way I could fail. Celestia said something to me when I was younger that I should have remembered, and that I try to remember, though usually I do a poor job of it. She told me that when I failed, it wasn’t the end so much as it was a beginning.” “She said the same to me.” “See? Just pulling out all the old lessons now. If you failed here, there is no reason you will fail again. There’s no reason you necessarily must fail again. “All along, you’ve been so afraid of what I might do, or what Celestia might do, or what you might do, and all this time you never bothered to just ask us. You’re so convinced that she shouldn’t trust you, or that she should not have forgiven you, but isn’t that for her to decide? “You asked why I ‘stood fast’. I can tell you pretty easily: because I love Celestia, just as I love my friends, and I love you. Yeah, even you, scary night princess. I know, somewhere, that loving ponies is hard and that there’s always the possibility they will disappoint me gravely. I mean… think about all of this.” “I wish I could stop thinking about it.” “You will. But you know what, you were right about one thing. Problems don’t just roll over and die everytime. There’s so much to go into with the Schism that I honestly don’t know where to start.” She sighed and shrugged. “I don’t. But I know that this isn’t the way. Even if you don’t think you’re better than this… I think we both know you’re smarter than it.” “Insulting my intelligence is a bit much,” grumbled Luna, who slouched over the balcony rail. “Maybe. Luna, sometimes the answer is both much simpler and much more complicated than we’d like. Celestia forgave you and she loves you, and that’s it. The more you doubt that, the more you try to poke holes in it, the more holes you’ll see. Not because they were always there, but because you convinced yourself they had been. Doubt is the first step towards truth, but it’s just the first step. Eventually you have to accept.” Twilight leaned against the railing. “I’m sorry,” Luna said. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I apologize most fervently for having tried to drag you into my own insecurity.” “I accept that apology,” Twilight said softly. “I don’t know what to do now,” Luna said. “I’ve made a mess of everything, and now find myself without a stage and it is discomforting to realize just how much I relied upon showmareship. How much of all of this has been vanity? Just playing a role instead of living as myself? How much of this was some twisted need to play Tartarus’ advocate?” “That’s fair. Maybe all of it. Maybe only some. You don’t have to be that.” “I’m not sure what else there is of me,” Luna said with a smile. “Scratch me and I bleed hubris and shallow art, and then what? I knew a farmer once who swore that he could taste the quality of soil. A bit strange, was he, but I remembered it. I taste of myself nothing, and find little to cling to. If I cannot become by playing the role, then what am I, Twilight? I’m just a husk with a long list of sins.” “Forgiven sins, I would add.” “Yes, forgiven, as if that fixes them.” “Maybe only mercy can,” Twilight said, remembering another mare in another place, telling her just the same. “If we paid for everything there would be no one left to pay, I think.” “And so we end with what? Nothing?” Luna shook her head. “How dissatisfying.” “No, not nothing. We’re still friends, I think.” “If you say, then I hold no desire to part from you.” Twilight hummed softly. “What is the Deeper Magic?” “A division of realms,” Luna grumbled. “Oaths carved into our spirits by the world itself to regulate our sovereignty. There are places I cannot go and things I cannot do, and it goes likewise for her. There are rules to how we can act, limits to what we can do to check one another. Only existential threats bend them.” She paused. “Well. Only such bends them without immense consequence.” “Ah.” “It is of no matter. It explains little. I thought Celestia was bound by the Law not to hold me by force, but perhaps she knew I would waste myself like a foal against the wall and she let me fall into your clutches.” “Or maybe she just doesn’t want to lose you,” Twilight said. “You act like she plans everything.” “Doesn’t she?” Twilight chuckled. “Sometimes, I think she’s rolling the dice.” “Ha. She was a poor gambler in our days.” “I can believe it.” Luna stirred. “Twilight, I would swear to you an oath, and bind it by the Deeper Magic, that I might never break it.” Twilight started. “What? Whoa, slow down. I still don’t—” But Luna silenced her with a gesture. “Hear me out. I, Luna Songbourne, Shepherd of the Moon and Defender of the Night, swear on the Law and the Deeper Magic beneath the Field of Arbol itself, that I shall not enter the dreams of Twilight Sparkle nor disturb them in any fashion, without her consent. I shall not interfere ever again with her heart and it shall travel in the Aether unmolested until she relieve me of this oath whilst awake and in her sound mind.” Luna glowed, but only for an instant. “There,” she said. “It is done. You are the one soul in all of creation above my reach. If you will forgive me, then I will try and be worthy of it.” “You didn’t have to do that,” Twilight said, but she felt… better. Safer. And she did not know how to feel about that. “I did, actually.” Luna shrugged. “It is only right. After what I have done, even if it is as you say, and there are no lasting effects, I have still stepped my bounds and there must be some consequence.” “That’s fair.” Twilight smiled. “As for what happens next… nothing and everything, I guess. I didn’t have a nightmare tonight, for starters, so we’re on the right track. You wanted to accomplish something, and whether or not you meant to, you accomplished this: I’m more aware now than ever what troubles you. I’m not happy it happened like this, but I’m also glad it did. I’m glad that all I had were nightmares.” Luna smiled back, a bit more hesitantly. “Having done a poor job of my apology, the least I could do is leave you with some happier dream. Do I, ah, might I? And when you visit our sister, might you and I speak at length? I need to talk to somepony who is not her, who I will not run around in circles with about the sickness of my heart.” She reached out a hoof. Twilight looked at it, met her eyes. She touched it with her own. “Always.”