Princess Luna found herself staring at her exact copy, forming from nothing before her eyes. Flesh grew over bones and cyan eyes sprouted from the skull, staring back at her without any hint of comprehension or life.
Luna panicked and tried to teleport back out. She kept trying even as the clone disappeared from before her, as she fell to the smooth floor of the mysterious dark gray sphere she was trapped within. And when she landed, the echoing ring of her horseshoes hitting the unidentifiable material of the sphere marked the first and only sound she'd heard since her arrival.
She was beginning to hyperventilate. She couldn't fly, didn't have magic, and could see no exit nor even so much as another thing besides her and what little she had on her when she teleported. And if it weren't for her superior dark vision, she was quite sure she wouldn't be able to tell even that much about the place. There certainly were no visible light sources, after all.
Oh stars and skies, was this to be her new prison? Could she really not have had even a few more days of freedom?
"One thousand years..."
The voice filled the sphere, bouncing off the walls to make it seem as if it came from every direction, even though it definitely didn't. It came from one very specific direction. The direction in which a black fog seemingly flowed out of the ground, filling up a full third of the large sphere right before Luna's eyes. And in the center of that darkness grew two golden eyes, staring down at her in contemplation and perhaps even a hint of disdain.
She recognized those eyes, that wise, matronly voice, and she knew immediately that if this was more than mere hallucination or a nightmare she shouldn't have been able to get, then she might as well have been dead already.
"Concordia," Luna spoke breathily, "is that you? How are you alive? We saw you dead!"
"You are standing in the answer," the voice whispered with audible sneer. "But I did not come to sate your curiosity. It is I who have questions. How are you here, and not on the moon? Or in Nightmare form?"
"You think We'll answer you?" Luna shot back. "If you're going to kill Us, just do it already. We have no patience for interrogation."
A deep laugh filled the room. "Foolish filly. You are already dead, and even if you speak not a word to me, the answers I seek will reach me soon enough."
"Then why bother coming?"
"Perhaps I just wanted to see you again," Concordia answered, sounding highly amused, but also mocking. "It has been so very long, after all. Besides, you should be grateful for my visit. I so rarely directly involve myself like this anymore. I even cleaned your sphere up, just for this occasion."
"Our sphere? Have you built some kind of prison for Us then? Is this your version of revenge?"
"Revenge?" Concordia's voice echoed back, almost surprised. "No. I am above grudges. This is pure necessity, and only incidentally a prison."
"We see." Luna considered for a moment, staring into those golden eyes. "You must have some greater purpose then. Do all ponies that teleport get sent to one of these? Well? Speak!"
A moment of silence hung in the air. "...you would command me? Oh, little Luna. I would be offended were the notion not so foolish... and entirely typical of you and your sister."
"Our sister?" Luna felt almost nauseous. "What have you done to her?"
Concordia chuckled, a noise that sounded utterly vile on those formless lips. "I have done nothing that she did not bring upon herself."
"So, a place like this does appear for all teleportations then."
"...very clever, Luna. I should have remembered that. Especially after Silverbright spoke so loftily of your capabilities."
"Silverbright?" Luna blinked in confusion. "What does a thousand-years dead commander of Our guard have to do with this? How do you even know her name?"
"I learn all things, given sufficient time and effort." The obscured mare paused, as if waiting to build suspense. "...I was there, you know. When she hanged herself."
Luna's breath hitched. "She... she did what? No, she wouldn't. Why?"
"She thought you abandoned her. All your supporters did. And, in a way, you did, didn't you? Because nothing was ever enough. The love of a few meant nothing, when your sister had so much more."
Luna felt tears welling up. No matter the source, she knew the truth of those words. She had abandoned them. Before now, it had been so easy to pretend she'd only ever hurt herself and her sister. But Concordia knew how to use truth as a spear—to break her opponent's resolve—and so she did her best to bite back those tears, meet those golden eyes.
Stars, why was it so hard?
"Silverbright," that voice continued in the same tone one would use to correct a misinformed foal, "spent those dark times like many of your supporters did: fighting amongst themselves, becoming displaced from society, watching everything they loved crumble apart... until there was nothing left for them in this world. They all gave up, in one way or another. Fled Equestria, attacked your sister, lost themselves in the deep jungles of Tzinacatlia…
“She did it under the light of the full moon, you know. Your favorite commander—your friend—probably thought you were looking down on her from your prison, but you weren’t, were you? How much of that time do you even remember?”
“Enough,” Luna muttered bitterly, defeated.
“Indeed.” She could almost hear Concordia smile. “And now would you like to answer my questions? How have you returned? What happened to that foul creature within you? I promise, this imprisonment shall be far less painful than the last.”
Luna considered for a moment. “Less painful how?”
“You already know this imprisonment can only end in death. I will provide you the proper tools to end things on your own terms, painlessly. And until then, you shall be treated as a prisoner of war. I assure you, that’s much better than most get.”
“And are we at war?”
“You tell me. It was you and your sister who attacked me, as I recall.”
Luna slowly nodded. It was strange, but even as enemies, she could always trust Concordia’s words. And now, it seemed, she had little choice. Historically, Concordia rarely ever got anything she wanted, no matter how hard she tried, but today she would.
“Very well,” Luna began, “We’ll tell you.”
Luna jolted out of her sleep, gasping for air like a drowned mare resuscitated. What? What was that!
A nightmare? More like a daymare, given the sunlight still shining through her room’s dark blue curtains.
It didn’t make sense. She didn’t get nightmares, at least not ones she didn’t cause herself. Her mastery of the dreamscape made sure of that. Worse, she already couldn’t remember a wink of it—just feelings. And she always remembered her dreams.
She shook herself, jumping out of bed in the process as she immediately began donning her royal regalia. She wouldn’t be going back to sleep.
Perhaps she shouldn’t be so alarmed. Recent events were bound to have some odd effects upon the mind. First, she and her sister received urgent news telling of the dangers of teleportation, then they and their unicorn allies led a series of missions into places that would give nightmares nightmares, and then she'd been forced to exhaust herself even further working with that zebra—Zecora—to save a badly damaged Rarity. The last of those efforts finally succeeded, much to her pride, only a few days before.
It really was no wonder her grip on the realm of dreams was temporarily a bit looser. She'd need to focus on her own recovery, but first, Celestia.
Her sister had locked herself away since their successful missions to Twilight's, Starlight's, and their own pocket dimensions. Seeing so much carnage in Twilight's pocket dimension, followed by the cackling madmare they pulled out of Starlight's, and then the neat lines of bodies in their own pocket dimensions had driven Celestia to the edge of her ability to cope. Worse, her sister had to live with the fact that she'd taught that very spell to many of her more adept students throughout the last thousand years. In a way, Celestia considered herself guilty of mass murder.
Yes, Celestia would need help, and Luna intended to give it even if she had to monitor every second of her sister's dreams. But there was only so much one pony could do. Convincing Celestia to come out of her room and interact with somepony, anypony, would be far better for her mental health than simple dream watching. And come to think of it, Luna had just the pony in mind.
It seemed a visit to the now hornless Twilight—who everypony called Light—was in order. She was the only one who could offer the forgiveness Celestia so dearly needed to hear. Luna only hoped she hadn’t misjudged the young mare. If things went wrong, if she ended up more like that crazy Starlight they found and promptly placed in a mental ward, then this could only do more damage.
She charged up her horn, then came to a screeching stop once she realized what she was about to do.
Okay, maybe let’s not teleport. Yes, very bad. I'll just have to find another way to contact her then. Perhaps in a few days, once she's had a chance to recover. In the meantime, it seems I must tend to Tia in other ways.
Luna nodded to herself. This would be for the best. Her sister and nation both needed a calm, rational mind in these times. The best way to start would be to temporarily suspend some of Celestia's more meaningless duties whilst delegating or else taking on the rest herself. That would give Celestia the time she needed to work through her current blues without also lumping on guilt at neglecting her responsibilities.
Luna stopped her pacing abruptly, then made for the door. With a plan in mind, it was time she find one of her sister's aides: Raven Inkwell. That one would know exactly what kind of work she could take off her sister's hooves. Only after meeting with her could Luna get to work on her rearrangements.
Gray placed eye to telescope, watching the silhouette of Princess Luna move about the royal bedchambers. It was difficult to make her out, what with that window and those not-quite-opaque curtains between them, but her viewing spot in the tower that was once Princess Twilight Sparkle’s home could not be more perfect.
She’d been forced to break in, of course, but her unique skillset made it laughably easy to get by the one royal guard watching the way. Though maybe “break” in wasn’t the right term. Nopony would find anything amiss, not so much as a mote of dust out of place, and she’d be sure to lock it back up when she left.
She’d rather not have to do it at all, but she was still working on getting proper clearance to the palace at large—where sneaking about would be impossible on account of so many prying eyes—and her mission would only be made harder not knowing the princess’s schedules. And that wasn’t to mention her personal reasons.
Gray lowered the telescope, rubbing at her chin before readjusting her black bolero hat with one hoof. It looked like Princess Luna was gone. She’d have to keep her ears open as to where. That one could be formidable, when she didn’t land herself in the jaws of trouble.
Gray turned back from the window, silently cursing to herself. Thinking back, the Princess had woken up too swiftly, her movements anxious or perhaps stressed. She must have seen something, become agitated. And if Luna did anything too extreme, then chances rose that Gray might have to jump in and bail her out. The chance of doing that covertly was frustratingly small.
Gray made her way to the exit, slipping her picking tools onto a strap around one hoof so that she might lock the door from outside.
The tower really wasn’t a perfect solution to her princess problem. She’d just have to find another way to watch them, one where she could be close enough to intervene if their lives were threatened. Those two didn’t know it yet, but things in Canterlot were about to heat up, and if the princesses became as involved as she suspected they might, an assassination attempt was not out of the question.
Gray growled in frustration as she worked the lock. Any number of disasters could occur, brought on by one of countless enemies. And here she was, an earth pony with no more than a few useful skills and some less than trustworthy contacts. And it was up to her to somehow keep this whole mess under control?
No, she’d need allies—her own, not ones brought on by the boss—and she was beginning to think she knew just where to get them. But first, she’d need a good story.