There were certain complications that came with being the Princess of Night and Guardian of Dreams.

Luna took a moment to reflect upon them as she trotted into her bed chambers, pausing just long enough to offer a kind smile and nod to her faithful guards posted at the door. A sense of calm and comfort washed over her as she entered a room adorned with walls colored midnight blue, polished black wood furnishings, and the old statues of ponies, goblins, and tricksters she collected during her younger years—those her beloved sister managed to save, of course. Immortal princess or not, the ravages of time were not so kind to ancient artifacts.

Still, it was a kind gesture. One she could never truly repay Celestia for. Her trinkets and statues were the last remnants of the age before her fall, a grounding point to which she could always return as she adjusted to the modern age.

She strode over to the balcony door and opened it with a deft flick of her magic, then stepped out into the night. With a bright smile, she closed her eyes and basked in the light of her moon. Truly, there was nothing like a cool night such as this.

Her best work in the dream realm always came when she cast her spell from the balcony under the moon’s watchful gaze, and blanketed her little ponies with her protection from the nightmares that threatened their dreams. Like a mother pegasus covering her foals in a downy embrace.

A plush blue cushion awaited her at the center, put out by one of her faithful House Guard no doubt. They never failed to make everything perfect for her to enjoy a night of dream walking, even in the midst of the harshest weather.

Luna didn’t have the heart to tell Moonlit Meadow that she knew full well the mare would open a hole in the clouds just wide enough that she wouldn’t feel a speck of rain or snow. Her House Guard so loved to think the little things they did to please her went unnoticed. Her smile was enough thanks, Sleepless Night would say.

Shaking her head, Luna chided herself. “Focus. There is work to be done.” It was an argument she’d have to save for another day. Tonight, she had business.

She took her seat in the cushion, shifted around a bit to get comfortable, then closed her eyes. The waking world faded from her consciousness. Instead, she stood in a grand hallway filled with thousands upon thousands of doors. Each of them led to the dreams of all the ponies, stallion, mare, and foal alike, who slumbered across the land. Every couple seconds, another would flash into view as one of her subjects surrendered to the sweet embrace of sleep and entered her realm.

Why ever had she taken this sacred bond for granted? Luna shook her head sadly. “Such a young, stupid mare, I was,” she muttered as she trotted along in search of one specific door.

Idly, she felt the ripples of a nightmare from one of the doors. Her brows furrowed, she glanced to one of the doors hovering hundreds of feet above her. That was Mythic Haze’s door. What in Equestria was that colt dreaming about this time?

Luna split her consciousness, another of her gifts to aid her duty as Guardian of Dreams, and sent a piece of herself to observe. A frown marred her face. A nightmare about a history test? Luna turned her attention to the hallway and continued on her trek. As long as you studied hard and—oh. Oh, you didn’t study. You played games instead. The scholar in her demanded a lecture, but she put it aside. The colt needed help feeling better. Fret not, one poor grade isn’t the end of the world. Take this as a lesson in prioritizing, young colt.

Her piece said, Luna continued her trot, splitting her mind here and there to check in on her ponies. Every so often she would send a piece off to a newborn foal’s door to lull them into a restful slumber, a good night’s sleep as important to their growth as a good meal. Others, she would send to allay their nightmares, like poor Whimsy Mimsy worrying her mother wouldn’t like the birthday present she made.

She hesitated for a split second. The last time she entered this door herself, without splitting her mind, she was treated to a rather private dream. The very sort she swore never to reveal to any living soul unless harm was implied when she accepted her mantle countless moons ago.

For a split second, she questioned whether or not entering Twilight’s dream realm was the right idea. Luna banished those thoughts and began her spell. There were certain complications to the mantle Guardian of Dreams, but none forbade her from playing favorites every now and then.

So what if it seemed like something Tia would do? Luna could check in on her friends if she wished. What was the point, Discord would ask teasingly, of the power to dream walk if you didn’t take the chance to make sure your friends were well?

The notion was almost enough to give her pause. Luna shook her head. “I’ve got to stop listening to that creature,” she muttered, lighting her horn and pulling the door open. “He’ll drive me mad one of these days. Besides, I’m just checking. For Twilight’s sake.”

She let her gaze sweep over the room and searched through a crowd of ponies chatting and milling about while they sipped at drinks. The furnishings were all a polished wood, pictures of sports stars and actors and actresses alike adorned the walls. A bar counter stood on the opposite side of the room, where ponies sat upon stools and nursed their drinks.

It was there she found who she was looking for. Luna would recognize Twilight Sparkle’s mulberry coat and tricolored mane anywhere. Not to mention the mare sitting beside her was a dead giveaway.

Luna watched Spitfire wave her hooves as if she hoped to paint a scene for Twilight. She regaled Celestia’s former student with wide, sweeping gestures, a bright smile, and her gravelly voice loud enough to carry over the dull roar of conversation.

If not for the fact that they were in a dream, Luna wagered such volume wouldn’t be appreciated in public. Her lips twitched. “Or perhaps, this is how Twilight sees her right now—loud, exciting, and more important than the world around her.”

The dream realm was wonderful that way. Ponies could bare their feelings without consequence, or even their own knowledge. A bond Luna once took for granted.

She slipped through the crowd with ease, weaving around laughing stallions and beaming mares, their conversations little more than a senseless jumbled of words that was typical of bystanders in dreams. They weren’t of interest to Luna anyway.

Stopping just a few steps from Spitfire and Twilight, Luna stood silently and listened. Any hint she could glean from the scene Twilight’s subconscious painted would be helpful.

“… Okay, so, we make it through the show with our dignity and selves more or less intact,” Spitfire said in between snorts of laughter. Her wings twitched excitedly. “At this point, I’m about eight different flavors of done, so I get out of my gear, shower, and try to slip out before they start calling out names of pubs to crawl for the night. You can guess about how well that went.”

Twilight hid a laugh behind a hoof. “I’m guessing Fleetfoot or Soarin caught you before you made it to the door.” On cue, both Wonderbolts seemed to float into existence, wandering up to the bar and taking their seats on Twilight’s opposite side while they ordered drinks.

“Oh, I wish! They’d have at least slipped out with me! Freaking Firestorm caught me!” Fleetfoot and Soarin faded away just as quickly as they’d come. “Called me out and asked if I was too scared to try taking a shot at his drinking title, the little punk!”

“Course not!” Spitfire gave a firm nod. “Can’t back down when a mouthy subordinate tries calling my tolerance into question. I’d hear it until the day I retired.”

“You know, you could’ve just put him on latrine duty or something,” Twilight replied, glancing off to the side.

Curious, Luna followed her gaze. The bar wall faded away to blue and gold checkered tiles with an open bathroom door. A stallion’s grumbling, tinged with irritation, floated to her ears along with the sound of a tiny brush scrubbing against porcelain. “Ricken’ nag!” he groused. “‘Rushin’ uh ‘oilet ‘owl wiff a oofruff! ‘Isgutin’!”

Scoffing, Spitfire waved her hoof. The tile vanished. “Wouldn’t work. I could make him do it, but that’d just encourage them to mess with me about it later. If I give them a hint of weakness and pull rank for something like that, they take it as hiding.”

Twilight seemed to consider her point for a moment. In a flash, a stack of books arose around them, shaping into a structure almost resembling a fort—a perfect hiding place. Well, perfect if one weren’t trying to find Twilight Sparkle.

A frown crossed Twilight’s face. Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash poked their heads over the bar counter, their lips tugged into playful grins. Their eyes darted about the bar. Rainbow laid her hooves atop the counter and called, “Twilight! Come out, come out, wherever you are! It’s Friday night! Drinks are half off at Berry’s, so let’s move so we can get a seat!”

The book fort popped out in a blinding flash. The hunting mares hadn’t even noticed it was there. Their eyes fell upon Twilight and shone with glee.

Pinkie vaulted over the counter and looped a foreleg around Twilight’s shoulders. “C’mon, Twilight!” she teased. “Come to Berry’s with Rainbow and me! Party drinks can be all sorts of fun!”

“Yeah, don’t be a chicken, Egghead!” Rainbow crowed, fluffing her feathers. “Live a little! You can take a break from those books for a night and hang with us!”

As suddenly as they came, the pair dispelled into wisps of smoke. “I know exactly what you mean,” Twilight said.

Luna made sure to log that one away. Modern language fascinated her in so many ways. And the warmth in Spitfire’s tone and the way she paused to smile and meet Twilight’s eyes did not go unnoticed.

How very interesting. Luna had to chuckle at the way Twilight tried to hide a wobbly smile as she fluffed her feathers. Even in her dream, the poor mare squirmed.

“But yeah, Firestorm caught me and called me out,” Spitfire continued. “Challenged me to a contest so we could see who could hold down more shots of Thundering Herd.” She paused a beat and raised a brow. “I’m guessing you’ve never tried it?”

Twilight wrinkled her snout. “Nopony? What? Did you both fall over at the same time?”

“No. I won the drinking contest, but Firestorm got up on the bar, ripped off his jacket, and started trying to show dance while singing Ragtime Mare. Everypony who saw lost.” Spitfire made a show of flattening her ears against her scalp. “I want you to picture a full grown stallion on this bar, hon. Kicking his legs and pretending he’s wearing a dress. I have seen things. Things I could never wash away.”

They were silent for several seconds. The crowd’s low murmur subsided, Luna flicked her ear at the sound of boisterous laughter and a stallion’s voice, his words slurred by alcohol. Somepony’s feathers brushed against her side, then a shoulder bumped against her. She turned, her brows furrowed in a confused frown, then disappeared beneath her starry bangs.

A stallion wearing a blue dress with frills, a most unflattering look with his pearl white coat and bright orange mane, staggered toward the bar. His face was split in a wide grin—too wide to be his real face. In fact, Luna would daresay his mouth was two or three sizes larger than before. He seemed to be mumbling something under his breath, more to himself than those around him. It took Luna a second to realize who he was and just what he planned to do.

Firestreak hopped onto the bar counter with a few clumsy flaps of his wings. His hooves slipped as he landed, a nervous laugh escaped his lips. Once he righted himself, he stood on his hind legs, took the hem of his dress in his hooves, lifted it to his knees, and began a strange, kicking dance. All the while, he sang as loud as he could:

“Hello, my filly!
Hello, my honey!
Hello, my ragtime maaaaaaaaaaaare!
Send me a kiss by wiiiiiiiiire!
Baby, my heart’s on fire!
If you refuse me,
Honey, you’ll lose me!
Then you’ll be left alone!
Oh baby,
Telephone,
And tell me I’m you’re oooooooooowwwwwwwn!”

Firestorm threw his head back and kicked his left leg high as he belted out the last note. His balance slipped, his forehooves pinwheeled and he swung his left leg high in the air. Luna politely turned her gaze upon the pair of mares lest she see more of Staff Sergeant Firestorm than she ever intended.

The mares burst out laughing, Spitfire howled and slapped a hoof on the counter while Twilight tried her best to bury her face in her hooves and muffle her own mirth, betrayed by her shaking shoulders.

The dream continued on in similar vein. The mares swapped their favorite stories of friends’ follies, even some of their own—Luna had to admit, her personal favorite was the one where Twilight broke into the Archives when she could’ve just asked Celestia and walked straight in. That one had Spitfire laughing for quite some time.

With each story they shared, Luna’s smile broadened. They were answering her questions without prompt. Fun, laughter, a sense of relaxation and level-field for both of them, and, most of all, inclusion. Spitfire was happy to hold Twilight close and share in her experiences.

What more could a young princess like Twilight ask out of her first relationship?

Happiness and a chance to experience romance, Luna mused. A chance to find what she wants and to learn from her own mistakes and successes in a different way.

Luna stepped away from the pair and turned to walk toward Twilight’s door. She had seen plenty. Sometimes, her ponies didn’t need her to guide them along to the lessons they needed to learn.

Chuckling to herself, Luna returned to her hallway and pulled the door shut, sealing it off from whatever nightmares might try to sneak in through her realm. Whether or not she approved of their pacing was irrelevant. Whether or not Celestia would approve was the same.

Twilight Sparkle was happy. It was up to her to determine how things progressed.

Glow

by Carapace

Interlude 3. Dreamwalker