Had he ever really just sat back and thought about his situation? Really just took a good hard look at the events as they'd transpired?
Well, no. He'd only been conscious for about an hour or so, now. Putting it like that, a ridiculous amount of things had happened in such a short span of time. Really, he was going to just absolutely crash when things calmed down.
Well, regardless of future trauma, here was a time to think about it. And thinking about it now, in the situation as it was: he was coming to a very quick, inarguable conclusion.
"That is enough; take a seat, open your ears, and listen."
It was probably in his best interest to listen.
Light Flow's mouth closed with a silent clack of teeth; a gesture made relatively meaningless by his apparent lack of committal to speech. Whatever scathing retort he'd prepared about Her contrived 'remorse' was stowed safely away for a rainy day. Specifically day.
He simmered in his heady air of contempt for a reasonably silent moment, wondering just whether he should take his chance to sock Nightmare Moon in Her big, dumb mouth.
She was certainly leaving Herself wide open for it; laying down, nearly on his level. Still quite a bit taller than him due to the natural height difference with the added terrain advantage, but much closer than he'd ever normally be.
But no, he'd just be swiftly murdered or something. Oh sweet catharsis, how it evaded him.
With no small amount of regret for the idea disposed: he allowed himself to flop to a sitting position, as directed. He glared up at the bored face that so tormented him, and did his best to convey that the topic left behind wasn't forgotten through sheer force of his vitriolic expression.
He wouldn't let Her crimes go unaccounted, no matter how meekly he might have and still might step aside!
Nightmare Moon caught his glare with all the admirable lack of effort of an experienced goalie, though one with a terribly loose eye. "Yes, thank you," She drawled, with extra special attention paid to the dry sarcasm in that 'thank.'
With the preamble apparently done and over with, and with him getting used to the feeling of passively miming Her eye-rolls: Nightmare Moon cleared Her throat with a soft rumble, and- if he wasn't imagining it- puffed out Her chest.
Posture was important for speaking, he supposed. Still, kinda funny.
"Now, it's not something you've asked, or even given much thought to, as I so impulsively proved: but I'll enlighten you as to why I attacked your mind in such a way. At least to find an easy in to the greater topic, if nothing else." She began, speaking with just as much purr and grandeur as usual, but also rather briskly. Not quite choppily, or short, or even very concise- that wasn't Her style- but just very pointedly.
But- not sharply pointed. He- ugh.
Okay: he was losing track of apt comparisons and metaphors, but he was pretty sure Her usual tactics of 'use scorn to hit under the belt' would probably qualify as sharp; but it didn't quite cross to when She was feeling informative. She was speaking to a point, but She wasn't looking to point him.
Did that make sense? It was a bit of a reach in terminology, but he'd always liked throwing darts.
Great, distracted again. He had missed the start of... whatever She was saying now.
"-difficult to see your thought process as you puzzled over why I would bring you of all ponies here. It was obvious: you thought only of your abilities, so single-mindedly leaving every other option having you would bring to my table."
Her glance turned askew; an almost questioning tilt to the narrowing of Her eyes. "I had thought you'd have learned to not be so limited in your thinking."
Her mouth tightened, and his next breath caught. "Thought I had taught you."
Now that was a blow that actually stung. His eyes averted from Hers as- yes, he would admit it- a creeping feeling of uncomfortable shame swept and draped across his withers like a blanket.
That was true, wasn't it? He wasn't being very creative with his thinking. He'd come up short, and in his desperation: gone with the simplest of answers. Like some kind of novice.
The one thing he was good at, and he was failing there, too. How wonderful. All sorts of good news today. Great night to be Light Flow.
"So- so what?" he mumbled, cautiously raising his eyes to meet Her gaze again. He was feeling disparaged, true; a dark cloud that threatened to drag his hooves down to the ground. But it was feeling easier to keep talking rather than just stewing in his regret. "You tore my mind apart as a- a punishment? For not being flexible enough?"
He didn't even need a response. As his eyes fell back to the floor, and a burning sensation of sickness rose in the very back of his throat: he didn't think he could believe anything else. Maybe it was childish of him. Maybe it was the opposite.
This kind of cheapened the already fairly cheap apology, in a certain way.
Seemingly disregarding his ill feelings and face on the matter, Nightmare Moon hummed thoughtfully; Her head adopting a contemplative tilt. "That's an interpretation, if you'd like," She said, searching the corners of Her eyes in an apparent quest for the right words. She found them fairly quickly, and Her eyes returned to him with an air of airy certainty. "My own wording wouldn't be quite so direct, though. I'd say it was more of a... matter of proof."
He stared for a moment as his face warped in confusion. He was in genuine disbelief; there was no way She meant what it sounded like She meant. "A matter of proof?" he repeated. His head shook slightly as he struggled to find the words to express his discontent, though it was increasingly difficult. "What does that mean? Like- like proving that you could do that to me?"
Nightmare Moon's expression tightened, perhaps in constrained anger. How strange, what did She have to be mad about? "Not so victimizing a truth, you'll find." Her voice was terse, and came out in a rough grumble. "I was attempting to prove, as a mere fact of life, that your power is insignificant. That in comparison to me: you are but a lacking child.
And then, as though Her previous expression of anger was some kind of joke: She smiled. Beautifully, glimmeringly. "For what need would a Goddess such as I have for you in the case as it is?"
Where Her mouth should have kept moving, to some kind of exonerating truth beyond the insults and scorn: it instead stopped; and he was left leaning in for a guilt-clearing bombshell that never came.
There was no way She was going to leave it there, was there? She... She had to have some better reason? Why would She apologize if.. if this was it?
Eventually, as the loaded silence made it clear that She was done, and that She wasn't going to provide any other life-saving testimony: shock set in with a chill, before quickly being cleared away with a long brush of disappointment.
The kind of disappointment that one would feel getting to the end of a long book series, and finding out that the entire adventure had been a dream. Actually, no, it wasn't really like that at all. This feeling was a lot angrier.
"You wanted to prove that I couldn't stop you?" The words as they rolled off his hot tongue felt unbelievable, even as he ran through the logic again and failingly again.
Nope, a fifth time now in hindsight still sounded outrageous for any sane circumstance.
His hoof raised to press against his forehead as pain began to pulse behind his eyes; the onset of a headache that he had a sneaking suspicion wouldn't be clearing for a while. "To- to demonstrate that I was a wimp, who couldn't possibly help you in any material way: you attacked me?! You thought that was justified?!"
He didn't quite shout the heated words, but his voice was raising; gods help him: he couldn't quite help it. Slowly and gradually, like a tide; where Nightmare Moon would take the place of- funnily enough- the moon in the metaphor.
Slowly pushing and kneading the tides of rage along; until, with a simple stare of thoughtless nonchalance, She would pull him into a roaring thunderstorm with a simple word of-
"Yes."
He exploded.
His hoof flew off his forehead to halt in the air next to its similarly thrown twin in a magnificent presentation of Her Royal Majesty, The Queen of All Monsters: Nightmare Moon! "How am I not supposed to feel victimized about that!" he screamed, as his voice nearly tore from the force of his primal vocation.
He threw his hooves into the air, letting them hang as a boundless sense of freedom overtook him. Freedom away from the fear of speaking up. What use was there is stifling himself when everything was so clear!? "There are dozens of different ways you could have demonstrated that! You- You could have just said it! To have the first thought of- The way you did it was so- It was just- I- I-"
Words failed him as so many things often did, and he sputtered in nonsensical, gesturing, red-faced frustration for a moment. He didn't think he had ever been this purely indignant before. He was speechless. He was flabbergasted. He was- in every sense of the word- gobsmacked.
What possible deficiency could have propped itself in Her head to not only think of the asinine idea in the first place: but then to gain a conscience, and have the sheer ignorance of will to apologize?!
Now, if only he could manage to scream that at Her.
Rather than chagrin at his clear anger, as he might have dreamed of: Nightmare Moon's expression instead turned aggressively defensive. Angry, but not spiteful. Almost genuinely at an affront to his accusations, if anything about Her could be called- as a matter of insult- genuine.
Given: She seemed mostly unaffected from the loudness of his emotions, but at least She wasn't ignoring him. For all Her terrible mannerisms, obvious belittlement, and brutal shows of strength: at least She cared enough to yell when it was relevant.
"Yes, I realize that. That is why I apologized, child; because I realized that my actions were needlessly crass and harmfully brutal. I know of my folly already." She replied tepidly, to match the vaunted, tolerant frown on Her face.
That was no throwaway adjective, he was identifying that correctly. She was indulging him; that's how She saw this. She was letting him work out his 'issues' like a parent would suffer a tantrum.
That stuck in his craw. The thought burned like acid behind his eyes as it crossed, and it brought his red-faced sputtering to a sudden end; to be replaced coldly by a quiet, tempestuous frown. Better to let the rage wreak havoc on his mind than make a fool of himself.
He was mad. He wanted, more than anything in the world, to leap at Her, screaming his head off with vile curses of Her and Her 'indulgence.' To do whatever it took to stake his claim for defiance.
But he couldn't. He wouldn't. That was what She wanted.
He wouldn't play into Her little scenario.
Her head leaned back slightly as She turned Her frowning gaze away from him; his eyes trailing unfailingly after. "There is no reason to have a fit. I would say that we've done a fine job of making my error well enough evident." She muttered, quite petulantly because he was right and She was wrong!
He took a deep breath, and covered his face with his hooves as he tried to calm the rage in his heart. Blocking out the sight of Her seemed to help a little, and it wasn't long before burning heat that shook his head and his hooves was turning to cold chill.
What did he even say? What could he even say?
It was great to get confirmation that even gods could be dumb.
His hooves dropped from his face to impact against his lap, while he shook his head roughly. "So what? What would you need me for, when you've done such a great job of proving my relative worthlessness," he spat, as his mind helpfully conjured wonderful little images of dumb dream queens for him to shred.
His jaw clenched, his brow knitted, and his teeth ground. Quiet rage; kept inward so that She wouldn't be right. His eyes stuck like glue to the ground in a useless bid to spite the very sight of Her; as if he needed to look to know that She was probably just staring the same, stupid stare of apathy.
All She'd done to him... all he'd done for Her- and She was probably just going to use him as- as a equine-shield or something. He didn't even know what against. She wouldn't tell him.
She didn't care. She didn't care.
So much for Her great big plans for him.
Bitch.
Storm clouds gathered and thundered behind his eyes, and his hooves itched with pent-up energy as the inexplicable urge to smash something gripped tightly onto his throat. Something or somepony.
Her voice raised in a cleared throat was an unwelcome draw out of his mutually destructive thoughts, and it was all he could do to just turn a hateful glare on Nightmare Moon's disgusting visage.
At his shaded expression: Her mouth turned sideways in a bitter sneer, and Her eyes narrowed to glowing slits. "Oh, how apt. My endearment is simply that: but here you are giving weight to the moniker, child. Pouting and glaring as though I've stolen the candy straight from your hooves."
She threw Her head back as She barked out a shout of a laugh; returning Her eyes to him with mocking prejudice behind them. "Have you a new reason to hate me? Have you the utter abandon to attack me?"
She smiled at that; a small showing of Her many sharp teeth, somehow twisted in a genuine expression of sick, ironic enjoyment. "You are making a joke of yourself, Light Flow. You must know that this transgression among many sizes so insignificantly in comparison? How has something so light broken your back?"
Her eyes glittered like fire in the dark, casting long shadows across Her face like streaks of black ink. "Well, here is something for your new whim: I welcome the attempt. I am bated for your daring move."
She stayed smiling like that; eyes hooded and head purposefully tilted up. It was a challenge, clearly.
If he used his teeth, went right for the throat...
Was this the final straw? Was this when he'd snap, lose his mind, and take his chance for sweet, bloody revenge? It'd certainly serve Her right, losing Her his cooperation by forcing Her to put him down.
The thought was intoxicating. It was like a curse. It swirled in the raging storm of his thoughts like the plague bearer of dark clouds; the heaviest of them all, and the last to die.
He couldn't do any real damage to Her, going for the throat or otherwise; and imagining the contrary was just a fun way to pass the time. But if he went mad, gave Her no other choice but to end him...
Was it worth it?
...
No. No it was not.
His eyes drifted closed to rid his sight of the obvious bait, and his nostrils flared as he diverted his focus instead to controlling his ramped breathing.
Mind over matter, or at least imagination over action.
This wasn't worth it, and She was right. She was always right. A petty betrayal for short-sighted reasons though it was: it was not the first. The total loss of his memory in direct consequence of Her presence was a far more painful wound, and he hadn't attacked Her because of that.
He was being childish, as much as that curdled his stomach to realize.
His teeth ground against each other in a desperate attempt to relieve pressure in the darkness; and a grinding edge caught his tongue painfully as heated rage pushed back against better, more rational thought.
A slight taste of cloying iron, though it did little for his mood. Now wasn't the time to go out in a whimpering attempt at spiteful half-victory. If he just... took a second to just calm down- everything would continue just fine.
His anger boiled and bubbled, and leapt and spattered at his attempts to knead it back into compliance. His hooves were shaking with adrenaline at the very thought of that sweet, sweet end; and clamping down on the feeling was physically painful.
He wanted it. More than anything.
It was so easy to compartmentalize in hindsight, and- looking back on it- this outburst wasn't that out of the ordinary. He'd never been good at dealing with his emotions in the moment. He had a long, long history of letting himself be carried away by his lesser instincts.
A wordless walk to a farm... A breakdown over a bunny... Screaming at a mass of pink... Running off to a cursed forest..
A missed event he would never stop regretting... A change of locale to stop the pain...
Sudden melancholy pushed in against the fire, helping to douse it slightly, and making him sigh quietly.
He just couldn't handle emotions.
But... maybe that was the key, though? Not handling them? Just... put it all behind him, and think it through later?
That sounded good, he could handle some baggage in addition to his extra large carry-on of trauma.
It wouldn't stop it from hurting, but.. diverting his thoughts was helping to make his chest a little less heated. A slow cooldown was just as good as any other; like a gradual sink into a bath of ice.
Focusing on that feeling for a moment made him shiver a little, and- okay, he was good. What was he upset about, again?
If only it were that easy.
Opening his eyes to the darkened night wasn't as irritating as it had been, and neither was the sight of its queen sat mantled with an awaiting frown.
"...You're right," he said in a dampened, carefully controlled tone; drawing a questioning line across Nightmare Moon's face that was so instantly aggravating, and-
Deep breath, just forget about it for the moment. Maybe he couldn't just kill his emotions, but loosening the collar would help...
The cool air did sooth his inflamed throat the tiniest bit, letting his chest ease barely from its strain, and his posture to bend slightly. He'd been ramrod-straight through his entire emotional blowout, and he hadn't even noticed. His back stung from the unfamiliar posture, and working the muscles in his lower shoulders did even less than he'd thought to ease the pain.
Thinking about it, he'd never come around to fixing his muscles. Something to work on, in the near future.
Nightmare Moon's quiet voice broke him from his momentary reverie of flexing his strained body any way he could; though, at first: he wasn't even sure he'd heard anything.
The inaudibly whispered words had him instinctively perking his ears, as he fixed his eyes on Her hooded gaze. "What?" he questioned; though he actually wasn't sure if he was asking what She'd said or what She'd meant.
She'd said 'And there it is', right? She could stand to be a little louder.
Wait, no. He remembered what it was like when She was loud. He liked this more.
Either way, She must have taken his question for its second meaning, as, in stunning defiance of the mood in the air: She smiled. Not as mad and reck-flaunting as Her previous one, but more similar to Her regular, more conniving smiles.
"Oh, I was simply taking note of one those delightful little qualities that make each pony worthwhile in their own special way," She hummed, nearly talking through Her cat-like smile.
It weirded him out when She did that. Her mouth barely moved, yet She still showed so many teeth and sounded perfectly clear. Some kind of ventriloquist's trick; probably picked up along Her long lifespan.
Did She practice? No, don't think about that. Imagining Her sitting with one of those magically-controlled hoof puppets was just... Well, he couldn't tell whether the feeling was funny or sickening. Both might've been a good answer.
Given his mood, both might've been correct.
Instead of vocalizing the idle question of whether Nightmare Moon ran some kind of circus troupe, he narrowed his eyes, and decided on an old favorite. "What," he started dumbly, though after a few seconds of holding the silence, he managed to follow it up. "-does that mean? What quality?"
His question must have been amusing, somehow: because She let out a decadent chuckle. A rich noise found completely at odds with the way She'd been not-so-subtly goading him to attack Her. She was intent on completely disregarding the very recent past, apparently.
The quickly changing mood was a highly upsetting disparity, and- like the simpering wimp he was- he could feel the simmering anger he was still holding onto begin to slip sadly away. Just... fading, like it had barely been a presence at all.
Like an unwelcome guest, asked to leave before the party ended. Why did that make him feel kind of bad?
Unaware of his sudden inner turmoil that may have been weirdly skewing his frown: Nightmare Moon moved on. She tilted Her head, and narrowed Her eyes as Her grinning maw set a strangely demure side-profile. "You recall what I said about the other options afforded to even the most ordinary of citizens, do you not?"
He blinked lethargically as he processed that; and, coming out of a little ill-mourning for his anger, set to sifting wearily through his memories. A pile of mix-matched trash and sad photos, at this point; his head really needed a cleaning.
Now, She'd said something about being disappointed that he was limiting his thinking to only the abilities of a pony. Um... Did... Was that the same thing?
"I'm... not sure you said it in so many words," he edged out with a cautious frown. Was it wrong it wish that She would be a little more plain, sometimes? Just cut out a little of the verbose mystique?
Apparently. His non-committal response killed the knowing smile that Nightmare Moon wore, as She cast eyes filled with disappointment at him. Even with how familiar it was at this point, the stare set weird little butterflies tickling his throat; and he instinctively edged backward from the uncomfortable look.
Hadn't they just been at each others' throats? Why was She going back to half-playfully admonishing him? What was going on?
"Yes, well," Nightmare Moon said dryly, as if seeing into his ever strange thought-process. With mild disgust coloring the action: She cleared Her throat with a cough, and drew Her shoulders up to a more formal posture. "My meaning was there, and my meaning here is that of a pony's state as they approach their breaking limit."
Her mouth curled up in memory of Her previous sly grin, as Her words gained new definition to slink their way off Her curved tongue. "What they'd do when pushed. How they'd react to extreme stimulus. What they'd plan. What they'd think. How they wouldn't. How they'd deal with it. How they'd recover."
Each checked box on Her list creeped his own frown down and down, and raised a spike of discomfort along his spine. It worsened and worsened as She leaned Her head in and in; and By the time She'd made it to the end of all Her creepy checks, he was nearly visibly squirming from the sheer uncomfortable presence Her increasingly breathy voice was giving off.
"Each is a weapon to be used, Light. A pony at the end of their rope is an entirely different creature from whom they once were; and that can be exploited indefinitely." She finished with a foreboding series of brusque chuckles. Each single exclamation that dropped from Her mouth drove an intruding sense of dread further and further into his achingly cramped chest; until, with clenched eyes and a tight jaw, the feeling peaked.
Too familiar. Too familiar.
"Okay!" he shouted, throwing his eyes open to finally stop that acidic chuckle. His chest heaved as his breathing flew way off kilter for a moment from his forceful exclamation; before he swallowed heavily, and stopped it with a breath.
"Okay," he said again, thankfully quieter this time. "I get it. A pony with nothing left to lose is easier to exploit. So what? How does it relate?"
It felt like he'd asked that so many times, as Nightmare Moon held her promise of truthful answers just over his grasping hooves. When was She going to stop needling him and just tell him anything?!
Maybe never; as She continued to simply hold that lofty smile over him; leaning Her head back from its gradual lean with a smug air. "There's something I feel you must understand if we're ever to continue, Light. When I say that a pony is a weapon, I want you to see outside of the traditional meanings.
"They, and you: are far more than a one-dimensional list of strengths and weaknesses constrained by paltry ability. Truthfully: what I've posed is just one unrelated example among many; I was simply using it as a basis."
As She went on, each off-putting emphasis that She was so fond of throwing at him drained from Her voice, leaving an empty basin of tactful, unusually informative language. It was the tone and relative posture his old grade-school teacher would often adopt; though obviously twisted in a certain way.
A drone, but not without emphasis. Each word sharply accentuated to add memorability that lasts in the mind. He wasn't an expert in teaching techniques, but he knew enough to know that energy in any form set things apart.
That's why he would never ever forget Pinkie Pie. Not even in the throes of amnesia.
"You have been doing nothing but thinking of what you can do; but the Honest truth is that these circumstances would never apply to your..." She stopped, and seemed to lean against the edge of Her words. Tilting Her head in a laughing hum as anticipation built; before She fixed him with a mischievous, glittering smile.
"...skillset."
His face instantly fell into an annoyed huff. Did She have to mock him and his insignificancies at every chance? One was funny, ten was repetitive: now She was just being rude.
The moment passed, and Nightmare Moon shed Her playful demeanor yet again; straightening Her back, though keeping a small smile as She spoke. "There is no need to raise the dead, nor an army; even if you could manage either." She rolled Her eyes, and sighed graciously. "Really, what were you thinking to suggest such a thing? Foolish at the least; stupid at any higher mark. A shameful show."
Why was this turning into a game of 'insult Light Flow'? What in Tartarus' name had he done to warrant this battery?!
No way he was taking this sitting down.
He planted his hoof down firmly from his sitting position, and sneered in indignant anger at the shaking head in front of him. "Are we going to sit around and needle the unicorn until he looks like a pincushion, or are we going to move on?! Aren't you on some kind of schedule or what?"
His snarled words did little more than wash off Nightmare Moon's sleek back, as She sighed breathfully and put a hoof to Her cheek, nodding. "Yes, yes; you strike a point, for once. You simply make it so easy: the urge to belittle you sometimes nearly overpowers me."
Her eyes turned to the wall, conveniently missing the way his face sunk below the low line of burdened discontent. "I'm so sorry to tempt you so much," he muttered in an emotional deadpan. Except he didn't really like that angle, so he flipped the feeling, and raised his voice into an aggravated groan as he rolled his head. "Can you just tell me about the stupid manipulation, already?"
His exclamation caught Her gaze, and dragged its curious sight back to him again. Her eyebrows raised as She took in his frowning face, almost as if She found it an oddity. "There is little to tell," She started easily, drawing his own eyebrow up to turn his expression into a question. "I was simply using an easy example to more effectively demonstrate the topic, so that you would have an easier time in understanding. The art of manipulation, subtle and important though it may be, has as little to do with your use as your special talent."
Her eyes swept to the wall again, the same spot. "Nothing but an easy detour. A stepping stone to reach the broader field of alternative thinking. Do you see?"
Well, that wasn't confusing.
He huffed out a tired breath as his shoulders sagged, and his head lolled as his gaze similarly found a distraction on the floor. "Yeah, I see." His tepid tone turned quietly scathing, and he raised a hoof to rub at his eyes. "I wish you would make things a little more clear, sometimes; but that doesn't mean I don't understand."
He really did understand, easy as it was to say She could just... tell him stuff. Cruel as it seemed to keep him dancing on his hooves like a trained dog for treats, it had an adage of honest kindness behind it.
He was overwhelmed. Far, far and away the most uncertain he had ever been in his entire life. Facing and holding a scary future full of change and upheaval, not more than half a day since he'd been a blank slate of crudely adopted mannerisms held together by brittle glue.
It was scary to think about, to confront. He had already established that as being something he was very bad at.
But to have a solitary moment of honest reflection, to really just bare his own soul to himself: his most egregious offender; he was really only keeping it 'together' because... it would be dangerous to fall apart. To drop to his knees and sob, weep, and cry for some kind of generous relief.
If Nightmare Moon didn't keep him constantly circling in little spirals, keeping his emotions moving and changing; he would probably just pass out. The shock and trauma he'd endured... if he wasn't being constantly distracted...
It might kill him. His poor little heart might just give out.
It was quiet. A sobering moment of realization that nopony was speaking, then another moment to think why.
It might've been fear that focused him back into the silent night. The primal desire to keep himself safe could've been what drove him to raise his head in an instant, to stare widely with wet eyes at the only other pony in the room, sitting just as silently as melancholy he was.
She was staring back. Soft eyes rimmed with sincere solace in between cold steel. She had sat and waited for him to bear his burden, like a quiet sentinel standing sanctified vigil. She could've yelled, screamed for him to pay attention, to make better use of Her time.
Their eyes met, and She smiled. There was no trick, no cunning. It was just a smile, for him and his benefit.
"Come, child; do not look so down." The soft whisper of Her voice sent blissful shivers down his weary back, and his eyes fluttered closed to savor the sound. A divine sound of caring, such that he imagined for a moment, in the chill and the cold, that he was warm.
He could lose himself in this moment. This one, different moment of love. If he really just let go, there was a genuine possibility that he could be happy here. Bleedingly peaceful, and maybe, just maybe, after all the hardship, he could rest.
If only it wasn't Her.
It was harder than he'd imagined to tear himself away from the emotion. To plunge back into the cold, and to lock it deep away where it should never have wormed its way in from a forgotten half-pony's mind. To steady himself with a shaky breath, and to fool his racing thoughts into ignoring what had just happened.
It could never be Her. Not for the pony who remembered.
It wasn't fear that filled him as his eyes crept open, to see the cold stone floor of the castle's throne room. A room where he would fight not for his life, but for what he had.
It was a sober sense of knowing. He could not be the Light Flow that Nightmare Moon wanted. The simpering child that took shelter beneath Her wing and asked Her if She was okay. Who blindly followed Her whims for the world with a smile and love in his eyes.
Because he knew what She had done to him. He was the Light Flow who knew. He was the Light Flow that smirked against the forcibly deadened feeling in his cold chest. He was the pony who could only stand to look at the floor, and not at the Goddess who offered him salvation.
As two perfectly halved parts of his mind tore each other to pieces.
"Don't know what you mean; I'm perfectly fine." The contradiction was almost funny, as he could not keep the waver from his voice. He heard it, and She heard it too. It would've been impossible not to, it was nearly predominant.
That just wouldn't do, he'd just have to deny harder.
It was a concentrated effort to raise his eyes just to look at Nightmare Moon. To even acknowledge that She was there. To see those creased eyes above a frown that would've seemed sad in the right light.
In the right light, heh.
It was all he could really do for the moment to just stare. Staring at those tight facial lines as they worked for some kind of nameless answer, to absolve his proposed discrepancy to the situation. He'd thrown Her off, obviously. There She was all ready to comfort and coddle him like some kind of doting caregiver, and he'd seemingly just shrugged it all off.
It must've been real fun to be in Her head right then. Probably more fun than his, at least.
The air of silent mourning around Her was lifting bit by bit, but the melancholic sadness still burned in small cinders in Her lidded eyes as She literally looked down on him. "Are.. you sure?" came the quiet, affirming voice filled with promises to let him. Maybe it was his dramatic flair, but he'd almost expected Her voice to be weaker, more choked with tears at his brazen shunning of Her kindness.
As it was: She sounded sort of regretful, but mostly just quiet. Too bad; luxuriating in her misfortune would've helped to shore up his spiteful confidence.
He nodded, relishing the moments taken not looking at that painful face. "I'm sure. I'm.." His throat ran suddenly dry for a screaming moment of need, but it was nothing that a quick swallow and a fake smile couldn't clear. "Fine. Let's move on. We were talking about my use, right? Nothing to do with my burgeoning ability to manipulate, but some other less-seen alternative?"
He forced a brisk tone, and he tried to keep his eyes on Nightmare Moon's as much as he could, but the unrest he felt behind the airs might've bled through. He didn't think he could've stopped it even if he wasn't devoting ninety percent of his focus to stopping his body from just shaking.
Whatever Nightmare Moon really thought of his denial, She didn't seem keen on sharing. Sure, She took a long moment after with Her eyes closed and Her head slightly sagged, but She drew Herself back up eventually. Neither of them were emotionally worse the wear at all. Indubitably.
"If you say so." She murmured, as Her eyes crept open. She blinked sluggishly once or twice, before taking a deep breath, and nodding Her head firmly once. She spoke again, in a steady breath. "Yes.. yes, you are right. We should be getting back to our track. It's been enough time spent dawdling when we have much more important ideals to focus on."
His ever weakness-searching eyes caught the barest hint of a taught jawline, and tiny flexes in Her throat as She swallowed. Her eyes trailed away from him to stare out the nearby window, to the night outside. "We.. I believe we would be best served to... forget the moment, for now. Let us simply cross any such bridge when it comes, and immediately place ourselves onto a more appropriate topic. It is the prompt thing to do."
He took a moment to consider that, to sift through the impermeable wall that was Her dialect; before he eventually found meaning, and nodded his assent.
He didn't really think about whether She saw it with Her eyes on the window, but he didn't really need to, because She sure acted like She had. She drew in a short breath, and nodded Her own head again as She turned back to him. "Very well; then I would pose the next question immediately."
That was fine, he was good with questions. He didn't even care that She hadn't answered the last one.
"Child, do you believe in destiny?"
...
The rushed moment immediately after the question was so... empty, he nearly fooled himself into thinking that nothing had actually happened. It would've been easier to believe, at least. Just him hallucinating again. Oh, silly Light Flow with his waking delusions.
No, She really asked that. In a bit of an awkward slew as though She were throwing words at him, but asked all the same.
He was still kind of emotionally recovering, so all he could really do was blink in empty disbelief for a moment, before idly rubbing his ear with a hoof. What was he thinking.. he must've misheard Her, there was no way She was asking something so... strange. It... it just didn't fit Her..
But pressing his hoof in to listen to the white noise of his heart made it clear that his ears were working just fine. There was always the possibility that he had gone insane again from the unresolved emotional tension that was still thick in the room, but his ears were just fine.
"Destiny?" he repeated, before tilting his head questioningly and squinting his eyes. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could see the ill intent hidden behind the question. "Do I believe in it?"
Nightmare Moon unhelpfully affirmed his question with a nod, but little else; leaving him sitting and staring dumbly while he tried to just... process that.
Weird question to drop on a pony immediately after mutual heartbreak.
His mind was still moving sluggishly, so he let his mouth open and move autonomously as he tried to fit his scattered thoughts into something coherent. "Destiny... well... I... That's an odd question to just... spring on a pony."
He searched the corners of his eyes, while his tongue restlessly explored his mouth. "I.. suppose I do, yes," he managed, after failing to find much of meaning. "It's sort of hard not to, you know? I mean..." He let his sentence trail off as he turned slightly, and pointed one hoof towards his rear.
Actions spoke louder than words, and all that.
Some kind of nameless relief filled his chest as he eyed his flank for the first time that night, sitting perfectly and thankfully cutie mark'd. It was a little cheesy, he knew: but he couldn't quite manage to stop himself from just.. smiling.
An open-faced book bound in brown with meaningless scribbles on its pages, topped off with a groaning unicorn skull.
He hadn't missed it, obviously; but... then he had. His cutie mark was who he was, and- both literally and metaphorically- he hadn't been him without it.
It completed him.
He was staring, he realized. At himself, but still. He coughed to hide a small flush as he quickly swung his body back to face Nightmare Moon, purposefully not meeting Her eyes as his voice fell to a low mutter. "Cutie marks and all that, obviously."
His ears pressed tightly against his head in embarrassment as Nightmare Moon burst into a fit of laughter, and he suddenly wished he had the ability to tunnel through stone. Or maybe turn gray, or just into stone. Anything to get him away from here.
He'd welcome Nightmare Moon getting fed up and murdering him right about now.
"Oh, Light Flow: you are adorable." The put-on affection in Her voice certainly wasn't helping. He raised his burning eyes to meet Her face just as Her hoof came to rest on Her smiling cheek, and She shook Her head playfully at him.
"Don't worry, child: no one will know of your mooning." She dragged out the double 'o' far longer than necessary, and Her eyes glimmered with mirth as a laughing hum rose in Her throat. "Let's call it our little secret."
Well, She recovered quickly.
He groaned as he rolled his eyes, and sagged his shoulders. He was never going to live this down, even if he somehow managed to murder Her. "Fine, whatever; what about destiny?! I believe in it, okay?" he managed to grind out through the line of his tight frown, as his eyebrow did a remarkable impression of twitching jelly.
Excuse him for enjoying the fact he wasn't horribly disfigured anymore. Maybe he was the dumb one for daring to be happy for a second.
His not-so-small flush was still reddening his cheeks slightly as he raised his attention to Nightmare Moon as She began to speak again, still sounding just amused enough to remind him that he really had just stared at his butt for a minute.
Again, excuse him.
"Well, the matter of a cutie mark isn't quite the destiny I'd meant, but for once I feel as though our wasted time was well used." She smiled gleamingly again, which he did his best to set his jaw and ignore.
He wouldn't rise to every bait. Just most of them.
After a moment of him staring stonily, Her smile faded slightly; though it never seemed to fully die. Instead, Her eyes narrowed slyly as She turned Her head to the right slightly. His eyes widened and his breath quickened as sparkling blue light shimmered to life around Her horn, and he took a suddenly shaky step back as the unmistakable sound of magic filled the silence.
What was She doing? Was She going to attack him again? Was this about denying Her?!
His whirling thoughts were speeding him along the short path to a panic attack, but his fears quickly died down as his eyes tracked to the dark corner of the room far behind Nightmare Moon: where a similar blue light was flashing its existence.
Oh, She was just pulling something. That begged another question, though.
He blinked in a mild stupor as the soft sound of something being dragged reached his ears, before the short distance was promptly crossed, and the object Nightmare Moon held in Her grasp was brought into the dim-
"That's mine!" he shouted on pure instinct as his hooves carried him a few restless steps forward. His mind caught up faster than he could travel the distance, and he managed to halt his itching hoof mid-air a few steps away from the two of them, though just barely.
The two of them of course being Nightmare Moon, who was staring at him very knowingly; and the very plain box that sat next to Her.
Well, he was assuming it was his, anyway. Not like boxes had many distinguishing features.
The momentary mania danced away as quickly as it had come, and he was left with the realization that he had gotten quite close to Nightmare Moon. Uncomfortably close, in fact. Close enough to see the subtle rise and fall of Her chest.
It was a bad idea to be this close to Her.
Still, he wanted that box. "That's mine," he repeated stubbornly as he took a cautious step back, and another for good measure.
Nightmare Moon tutted at his show of petulance, and raised the box that was definitely his into the air. "Do not look at me as though I am some sort of thief, Light Flow. It is unbecoming." She shook the container from side to side in a classic mocking gesture, though he couldn't deny that his eyes followed it unfailingly.
She chuckled at the display, before setting the box on the floor again, as his eyes followed. "Yes, this box is yours; but it's not as if I've stolen it away from you. You shall have it back just as soon as I am done with it." He started forward with uncertain energy as Her hoof crept over to rest on its surface, though he again stopped himself from leaping to grab it away from Her.
Her unnatural eyes watched his every agitated move as She slid the box to Her breast, where her hoof curled around to hug the precious object to Her breast. Secure and safe, directly in the hooves of another pony who should never have had it.
His. His. His. His. It was his!
All he could see was the offending black hoof holding his box, even as Nightmare Moon's voice wound around his ears. "Besides, it would only be stealing if I were not welcome in the place from where it was taken." He blinked in sudden surprise as Her words registered, and She hummed quietly. "I think this is more akin to borrowing."
Wait, what did She say?
He shook his head to distract himself from the itching, burning feeling of wrongness to instead focus on the garbage She was spewing. "Wha- welcome?!" His angry mouth worked to add a scathing follow-up; something like: 'You are not welcome in my home you delusional witch,' but he only managed to come up with vague noises of discontented rage.
Nightmare Moon raised Her head from where it was low next to his box, and Her eyes narrowed at his wordless consternation; as if he was the one offending her. "Yes, child: welcome. I have long since extracted an offer of shelter from your becalmed mind, so that I may have ease of guilt-free access to your home."
His mouth gaped open in pure disbelief as Nightmare Moon sniffed quietly, and raised Her hoof to tap against Her chin as Her eyes rose to the ceiling. "Now, whether I should feel as badly for so blatantly coercing somepony so defenseless is yet another question..." She mused with an air of idleness, while he internally exploded.
Sometime during his madness or in his dreams: Nightmare Moon had made him tell Her She was welcome in his home?! So She wouldn't feel bad?!
What in Tartarus's unholy name was wrong with Her?!
"I want my box back!" he yelled at the monstrous intruder as he stomped his hoof as authoritatively as he could manage. He narrowed his eyes, widened his shoulders, and puffed up his chest. He snorted hotly with every breath in an animalistic display of intimidation, and swept his hoof on the floor in a clear prelude to a charge.
He was dangerous. He was clearly mad.
Nightmare Moon scoffed.
Every single tactic of childish intimidation he had put on seemed suddenly insignificant as Nightmare Moon rolled Her eyes, and scowled at him. Two gestures laden with more affected meaning than everything he had just done. "Do not be a fool; now sit down and listen."
Well, he tried.
His eyes softened, his shoulders sagged, and he blew out a long, tired breath as his chest fell. His butt stung as he flopped down into a seat, though his hooves still itched with the desire for violence as he crossed them over his stomach.
"Fine," he muttered, as he stared venomously at the unamused face of the tyrant.
He couldn't even pretend like he was dangerous anymore.
With his played-out theatrics over and done with, Nightmare Moon's still scowling face softened slightly as Her horn lit again, and the flaps of his box flapped open. Angry though he was, he still watched with slightly bated breath as She stared down into the contents of the container for a moment with a plainly unreadable face.
What did She want with his box? For that matter, which box was it? Of the two options...
The sound of pulling paper reached his ears a moment before a familiar flowery envelope pulled itself out into the air. Nightmare Moon carelessly flipped the back of the letter open and pulled the paper inside out, before tossing the empty envelope over Her shoulder.
He bit his tongue as the hot urge to scream tore through his body. How thoughtful She was with other ponies' possessions. What a dream it would be to show that same thoughtfulness to Her face.
Not even registering Her own horrid manners: Nightmare Moon unfolded the paper and held it in front of Her face for a moment. After what he guessed was probably a quick read, She turned it around to face him, and stared at him expectantly. "You remember this, I assume?"
It was somewhat startling to be called out of his momentary wondering about a Nightmare Moon with reading glasses, but it was easy to gather the wherewithal to squint at the faded, wrinkled edges of the held-aloft letter.
And just like that: a familiar feeling of tearing discontent brushed up against his spine, sending a stiff pain through his back as he instinctively stood a little straighter. The letter was too far away to read, of course: but he knew what it was, and- much more importantly- what it said.
Honestly? He'd sort of forgotten about it.
"Of course I remember it, I'm not stupid," he said haughtily, as the profound weight of self-hatred descended on his mind. Because he was stupid; he just wasn't going to tell her that.
The letter of very great importance about his now greatest enemy that he'd received no more than a week ago, and he'd forgotten about it. Sure, he'd had amnesia, but he didn't anymore. He couldn't just turn to something so contrived for every excuse.
No, this was just him being plain forgetful. All those years, and Applejack might've had a point.
Despite the internal civil war going on behind his eyes, his unconcerned face seemed to fool Nightmare Moon enough that She kept speaking relatively unconcernedly. Though Her expression was just a bit more mocking than it had been a moment ago.
He swore, She still had some kind of access to his mind.
"Then you remember what this says about me, then?" Her tone was a bit more snide than She might've meant, but he nodded all the same. He actually did remember the contents of the letter, and he was beginning to gain a bit of much needed perspective.
If She wanted him because of something in the note, then there weren't many options. And of those options, there was really only one that made sense..
That was making him feel sort of nervous.
Despite the worsening trepidation itching along his twitching face, Nightmare Moon just smiled; which somehow made him feel more like she was frowning at him. "Yes, and of course you remember what it says about what's supposed to happen tonight?"
Yeah, if he could pardon his own cliché: he had a bad feeling about this.
He sucked in a pained breath as audible crinkling filled the air from the tightly-held edges of the floating paper. He mouthed a warning to be careful as he nodded with wide eyes, which seemed to placate the increasingly brittle smile on Nightmare Moon's face.
She seemed upset.
He danced on his hooves as a nervous energy screamed at him to grab the paper away as one corner of the page bent inwards, and he nearly screamed as the small earmark tore off.
Seemingly satisfied with the marring of one of his most treasured possessions, what was left of the letter fluttered to the ground as She let go; though She kept that one torn corner to Herself.
If only it had been him.
The torn paper floated and twirled in the air as Nightmare Moon stared at it with surprisingly little care. "Yes, it seems as though destiny has called for my loss here, tonight. I'm to be bested by six upstart heroes only just coming into their new virtues." She hummed a pleasant tune as the paper danced in the air, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that She was describing Her own loss.
Could he apply regular problems to a Goddess? If he could, then She was disassociating from Her words; and whether it was intentional or not, it was concerning.
That, or She was just pretending with startling efficiency that She wasn't feeling anything. That would upgrade the requisite feeling to terror.
"And it's not just what's been written in this fool letter by a fool wizard who thought he'd found the best of fate." She shook Her head shortly, as the paper flattened itself out, before crumpling tightly into a ball, and repeating the action. "I have my own methods of prognostics, and I've seen the truth just as well. The stars have always been very clear on this matter."
Confusion gripped him as She went on, Her monologue making less and less sense without context. Virtues? A fool wizard? The stars? It was beginning to feel like he was sitting in on somepony else's private conversation.
She didn't stop to answer his unasked questions, amazingly; instead continuing to focus Her eyes on the floating scrap paper as it twisted in on itself. "It's no freak prophecy, or strange quirk of fate. There is no question: I was never meant to win this fight."
She sighed, barely melancholy enough for the tone of Her words. A fake tone to imply the emotion. The paper bent in, then out; folding concentric triangles as its captor shook Her head in mock of regret. "What a pity: to have defeated the great evil that is my sister, only to fall and fade as a forgotten villain in another's story."
Her words trailed in a thoughtless meander, as though She had simply lost interest in favor of the small refuse She still played with. "Do you not see the tragedy, Light? Do you not wonder what might have been?" Her own words sounded like echoes of themselves, as Her eyes fell into a trance on the folding paper.
"How many times must I have besought a different fate from those who whisper to me. How many years I spent in soiled silence, knowing without fail that my wings would one day unfurl to their largest, only to be clipped so soon. How tired it all is, to know that you are doomed to fail no matter what you may try; for there is no struggle large enough to halt the turn of the world."
He was left in silent wonder as Nightmare Moon's hollow degree came to a sudden halt, and he was left leaning in for the next tragic verse that never came.
The wonder that gripped him so tightly turned quickly to fear as, in a single moment, Nightmare Moon's horn flashed with surging light, and the paper held in Her grasp burst into cold, blue flames.
Though his first ridiculous thought was of his box in danger, his first action was to skirt skittishly back as crackling sparks consumed the small sliver of fuel. From practically nothing grew an entire self-sufficient blaze; leaping to shade Nightmare Moon's face with bright shadows and dark light as it bent in a sickeningly sweet smile.
"Ah, but if only it would end there," She whispered, the ghostly sound reverberating seeming to come directly from the flames, as they grew impossibly larger; beginning to eclipse what little he could see of Her face between each higher leap.
He didn't quite cower- that was undignified- but Nightmare Moon did sort of look like a demon as the apparently self-sustaining flames seemed to creep across and engulf Her entire face. It was harder and harder to see Her fur and flesh through the blue wall of heat; but impossibly, chillingly: he could still clearly make out the narrowed slots of Her eyes through the flames.
"Tales always end with a period, as do legends and prophecy; but not this one. The tale of the mad queen who turned day into night merely trails, dying with a whimper and an uncertain question. Something has changed it."
A dark, humming chuckle reverberated in his head as he struggled to breathe through the demonic visage choking him. He felt as though he was being suffocated; as the flames, to his eyes, engulfed the entire room.
"Do you remember? Do you see? There: a worn hole in the fabric of the page. There's a way out, and I know what it is."
He could scarcely even remember what they were talking about, anymore; but he had just enough awareness to choke out a question, through the ash and smoke clogging his throat. "What is it?" he whispered hoarsely, the sound more like a whimper than a sentence.
A cold wind blew suddenly through the room, as if summoned by the lacking weight of his words. The chilling breeze sent his mane whipping as it rallied against the growing heat of the colored flames, pushing and killing the rising danger until it lowered into a small core, fighting and bursting in all directions.
He couldn't think, and he couldn't stand to look to see Her. All he could see was that little ball of pure fire.
From there: the spectacle seemed to gain a mind of its own, twirling and trailing in small circles that he watched with enrapt eyes. Patterns like a practiced show, filled with sharp turns, twirling leaps, and double-back to cross its own trailing tail.
Every so often, like a gift from the gods: his dry eyes caught a small show of the face behind the flame. Glimmering hints of a flashing smile, or mind-numbing glances from slotted eyes like long-forgotten dreams.
It was a wonderful trance of his own: watching the beautiful azure light show. The fire moved so quickly, the air was hardly unoccupied in any space but for wispy tails of flame. Yet it kept lonesome tracks in any place but those that it obviously meant to. A stunning circus show of blazing performance.
It was such a departure. Such a lonely, forgotten moment; amidst the screaming and the plotting and the intimidation. A wonderful little show for all the world.
But all too soon, it ended.
Like a forced exodus of itself, the fire wavered, then split into streaking, screaming lines that exploded outwards into the room. He could scarcely track any number of the pin-sized missiles, and his head whipped in every direction it could to try anyway to watch them all at once.
Each little spark made light impact somewhere against any of the far walls; lighting the entire room in one, glorious moment of enlightenment as a hundred flames settled all at once.
Over the door, where it had been too dark to see before: a massive carving of an intricate sun over an equally considered moon. Lines denoting light dripping and rising in opposite directions, swirling in sweeping lines to connect and lengthen into each other.
His eyes widened, and he was left breathless. Then, the flames moved.
Like silent rapids, the flames blurred into a formless mass that- as his unfocused eyes followed on rapt strings- converged, and centered into one, tiny ball. So many points from so much, and the resulting mass from all its exertion was barely the size of his hoof.
It hung there, completely alone in its entire universe. Surrounded on all sides by shade and emptiness, to die without cause after the sum of all its betters. He blinked for the first time in what felt like years, and took a heavy swallow; the moisture running like ragged knives down his withered throat.
Could he reach it in time? Give it one last moment of companionship before it sputtered out?
Like a shadow, jaws like giant knives cut the silence, and ripped out of the darkness to close like a snapping trap around the ball of fire.
What felt like every muscle in his body convulsed in a sort of disgusted fear as fire seethed through the grinning teeth of Nightmare Moon, fighting and raging with grasping claws against the shining prison that entrapped it. It battered against the taut skin of Her jaws like water on wax paper, to as much effect: as each hardened press of powerful muscles killed the flames just a bit more.
Smoke plumed from two flaring nostrils; and he inhaled sharply as Her draconic eyes widened and focused like long needles on him. A grotesque, broken smile parted like tearing flesh and literally blew blue fire as one, single word ripped from the formless mass that was the inferno that engulfed Her.
"You!"