//------------------------------//
// third 
// Story: Oneiromance 
// by gloamish 
//------------------------------//

The sunset had been awkward, even I could recognize that. Celestia stared at the sun with far more focus than it required, and was retrieved by her own seneschal, who said she was expected at some dinner party or another. I knew she wouldn't invent an event as an excuse to leave, but I also knew her seneschal did not typically lead her around by the snout. No doubt it was a rehearsed exit.

I huffed in annoyance with myself for not putting the issue to rest then, but there was something sacred about the balcony on which we typically changed shifts. It was a place of peace, not to be broached by posturing nor bickering, however sisterly it may have been. That was fine. Once I discussed the nature of things with Twilight, she'd no doubt be as eager to correct Celestia's mistaken impression as I was, and that would save me pleading my case of not having violated her student's innocence.

I did not have court, today, which I was happy for. Like my sister's, it was stocked with nobles, who had become ostentatious and demanding in my absence. Unlike hers, some artists had slipped into those ranks: painters, performers, and poets; they were the stars twinkling between the blank expanses of prattle and pomp. However, I had a second court, one the sun's guardian envied. One where I was the courtier, and our little ponies the sovereigns.

I laid on a cushion in this court's audience chamber. Lavender, fresh and calming, lined the walls, and a fountain borrowed a fragment of the mountain river's cool flow to suffuse the room with mist. The windows flanking the fountain mirrored its flow with moonlight. Most ponies would collapse on the floor, sound asleep, but to me it was the perfect amount of calming. I stepped from this realm into dreams as simply as one steps off a train.

The calm bloomed into joy as I opened my dreaming eyes. I cantered in circles, marveling like a filly at the surrounding stars, as I always did. Oneiromancy never seemed to lose its charm — while I was in awe of the moon, the work of raising and setting it was routine, but dreams were always new even in their familiarity. The light from the oneirospheres surrounding me was the same quality as the starlight above, and I often wondered if those distant points were clusters of dreamlands beyond our world. I hoped our cluster was part of a beautiful constellation and not a lone star.

The first step of oneironavigation, or dreamwalking, required careful control of one's mind. Not domination of the ego over the id, but understanding of the wholeness of the domain, and acceptance that each part, even the dark corners, was in fact part of oneself. In the years before the nightmare, my own mind became harder and harder to confront — because it had, at some point, become an adversary rather than a friend — and eventually I lost the ability to dreamwalk altogether. The claustrophobia accelerated my descent to a dive.

Once the mind was understood, in breadth if not depth, it could be folded. At first, my work was artless, as I had a goal and attempted to force my mind into conformance. It was only when my sister shook me from a tearful sleep that I stepped back and tried a different approach, feeling along the fabric for the places my oneirosphere would fold naturally. A pony's dream domain is explored primarily through the oneiric self, a construct of the ego, the thinking mind reaching as an appendage into the subconscious from which it sprouted, as the mind observes the soma. But just as the mind only observes through the eyes that form part of the body, and the ego sits in the brain which wafts with the endocrine system's chemicals, the division between the dreamer and their domain is never so clear as it seems.

Mantling folds the oneirosphere around the self, making them one and the same, dissolving the division wholly, apart from a single length of dream-twine leading back to its seat to follow back to the body. Encircled in the whole of its domain, the mere avatar transcends to truth, and is free to walk the greater dream plane as ponies walk in waking. Oneironavigation had all the same risks, as well: it was the difference between testing cold waters with a hoof and diving in with a cannonball. Fortunately, the nature of dreams as inviolable privacies meant the mind developed no immune system for foreign agents such as myself.

"... Luna..." My ears perked up at the sound, breaking me from my considerations. "Luna..." A voice whispered through the dreams, and I swiveled my ears around, seeking it out. "Luna!" Surely a cry such as that could only be drawn out by pain or fear! I broke into a gallop, warm assurance flickering in my heart. Only a few years back among the living and already ponies in their dreams called out to me for aid, for a soothing hoof against their fear. To have become this, not fear itself but a bulwark against it, meant more to me than I could ever say.

So it was with haste and confidence I breached the dream's boundary, ready to face whatever dared harm one of our little ponies. I was not prepared for the fright that awaited me. The pony who called for aid lay tangled in her sheets, slick with sweat, eyes screwed up as she moaned. That was where the resemblance to terror ended. In the bedroom of her lost Golden Oak Library, the afternoon sun filtering in from the balcony, Twilight Sparkle was whimpering with pleasure as I ravished her.

The disconnect froze me on my hooves. Seeing myself licking and nipping at the purple fur on her neck, a hungry smile twisting my lips and my stomach. The possessiveness with which my hooves clutched her, and the way her spine arched to be closer to me. Anger and fear fought for control of my mind, any calm I could hope to muster lost in the frenzy. My perception of myself snapped free from this mockery, and time moved again.

"Twilight Sparkle!" I bellowed with the full force of the Royal Voice. It had its intended effect, my target's legs going stiff and bucking her figment of me across the room, where she was buried in an avalanche of books. I reflected on the closeness of fear and pleasure for a moment as my would-be suitor's lather renewed itself.

"Princess Luna!" she yelped, glancing wildly around the room. "I— I was just—" She scrabbled for some excuse, clearly caught off guard, but just then the other me popped her head out from the books, catching Twilight's gaze. "Oh, right," she muttered, looking back to me reproachfully. "This."

I hadn't planned to start it like this, but I supposed there was nothing for it, now I was here. "I received your letter. I will be coming to Ponyville on the morrow to discuss it with you personally, but I want to make it clear: I am not angry with you, just—"

"Goodness, it sounds just like my sister," the figment tittered.

"I guess it's no wonder my shame would have a little of her in it, too..." Twilight mumbled, looking down at her hooves. Her eyes flickered to my copy. "You... did get my letter, didn't you Luna?"

She tilted her head. "That is how we got to this point, is it not? I wished to show my adoration." She licked her lips, and I twitched at this utter perversion of my character.

"When you didn't write back, I worried..." She ran a hoof through her sheets, not meeting her imaginary lover's eyes, her ears lowered. I stepped forward unconsciously — put it together, Twilight! You're smarter than this!

Her figment struck the wood beneath her with a hoof, catching Twilight's attention. She looked suitably contrite. "I apologize. I never meant to make you doubt us... Do you know how awkward it is to ask your own sister to send her student a love letter from you?" That predatory look returned to her eyes. "I merely thought I could wait a day and show you in pony exactly how much you mean to me, Twilight. I even couldn't resist granting you a preview." She licked her lips and began stalking toward the bed, tail flicking as if prepared to demonstrate.

I scrambled across the wooden floor, blocking her advance. Alas, this part of her was intelligent too. "Twilight Sparkle... My friend," I said, trying to meet her gaze, but she only looked past me. "We— I am the true Luna. You've been taken in by a dream. Please, step away from this, so we may talk on the morrow."

My pleas went unheard. "Perhaps waiting would be better. In the waking world, this part of you will not stand in our way."

"... Won't it? Even if it's more assertive here, it's still something I feel. What if I..." Twilight bit her lip and looked out the window, toward Canterlot. "I'm sick of living with this shame. I know I deserve what I have. I deserve to love you."

It hurt me deeply, to see her use me as a bludgeon against herself. I was making no progress here. I stepped back, resolving to leave this dream and let it sink to whatever lurid depths Twilight wished to dive. Then I would ensure she could not fall for a delusion such as this again.

But something was bothering me, pulling at my mind. I mentally withdrew from Twilight's conversation with herself. What was it? I guess it's no wonder my shame would have a little of her in it. There was a hint of Celestia in this dream, not in me but my shadow. Something about the figment reminded me of my sister. Of course Twilight would likely seek a lover more patient than I, more giving, and twist my likeness with those traits. I had no idea where she'd pulled the flirtiness from, however. But it was something else which was bothering me.

Her tone, I realized. It slipped into something didactic at times, and I wondered for the first time what this figment really was. If I was shame, to Twilight, what was the Luna she thought to be true, beneath the delusion? Her love for me? Her gaping loneliness?

Thinking of a dream geometrically, the figments within are intersections of the psyche with the dream plane, where the oneiric self is simply the ego's intersection. But where these outcroppings of the psyche intersected depended on the parts of the collective unconscious they were bound to. Mundane psychology was often enough to understand, to trace the common symbols back to what they represent, but some complicated snarls of geometry required oneiromancy.

I reached out with a neglected portion of my skillset, and touched the mind of Twilight.

Love, fear, all sorts of feelings were tangled up in the false Luna. I dared not pick at the knot, but I could feel in its depths something more. A strand that led somewhere higher, something beyond the symbols of pony concerns. Something true. I'd met prophets in dreams, and it was not unheard of for a pony's psyche to entangle some strand from beyond their oneirosphere, so I was not shocked. But I was curious — exactly what truth would be tangled up in Twilight's picture of me? And was it where she picked up this didactic streak, wrapped in Celestia's tone?

"I'm tired of losing to my fears, Luna." Twilight leaned forward, resting her head against the figment's barrel. "I want to be strong like my friends believe I am. You could chase my shame away, but it would return as soon as you left." My heart twinged at hearing Twilight disparage her own strength, and my resolve to help her was renewed. But now a new curiosity tugged at me. This was the height of my duty, helping ponies who found something beyond themselves in their dreams.

"You always were one to tackle the root of the problem, Twilight. I've always loved that about you," her figment said with a smile, nuzzling against an ear. "Dreams can make us feel helpless, but everything in here is simply a part of you. It is your domain, and you are its master. Your studies under Celestia helped control your magic — my lessons in oneiromancy are their mirror for your dreams."

I froze as the question of what lay at the base of this figment was answered with a ringing peal. Nopony knew about oneiromancy. Not one, besides my sister and myself. One of the more sullen parts of my work here was to check that no whispers of the magic of dreams spread among our subjects, to ensure it remained as unknowable a domain as the movement of the sun. How had Twilight uncovered a truth we'd buried for centuries?

Of course. She was the Element of Magic. She had an innate connection to all things magical, and here in dreams she could tap into parts of the collective unconsciousness which had been forgotten. I had been blinded by the quarrels of common ponies, the fears of lost relationships and spurned friends. Twilight Sparkle was studying oneiromancy under the tutelage of oneiromancy itself, as I had so long ago. That it had become entangled with her perception of dream magic, and its associations with me, had proved as effective a distraction for me as it did her.

How much had she learned? It was a deep domain, but not a wide one, and Twilight was a voracious student. Had she dreamwalked already? No, if she had, she would have learned this Luna was a fake. Instead, she seemed to be taking the same path I had, learning the mind inside and out before finally stepping outside it. Which meant — control. She had spoken of control.

I stumbled over myself as I whipped around, running at full tilt, hooves scrabbling on the wood. Not caring for decorum, only survival. For the first time in over a millennium, a dream was not safe. I was in the mind of a budding oneiromancer who intended to turn her powers on herself and wipe a problem from her own mind, a problem who happened to be a Princess of Equestria. And worse, I had no doubt she could do it.

The mental reconstruction of her beloved oak was true to life: out the door, down the stairs. Space in the mind was a slippery thing, but I only had to breach the boundary of Twilight's projection, and I'd be safe in the cool absence of the greater dream plane. As soon as I awoke, I'd head down to Ponyville and clear up this misunderstanding. After a cold shower.

It pained me to have to break the heart of my dear friend, but I couldn't let this delusion persist. Even if I had been a manifestation of her own shame as Twilight believed, she was essentially performing unlicensed brain surgery on herself by attempting to erase me like this. There was a reason my sister and I hadn't allowed oneiromancy to be absorbed into the general literature: it was far too easy to twist your own psyche into something terrible.

I skidded to a stop, the doorway blocked by my reflection. Beyond it was a scrap of Ponyville lit by a sunny day, and beyond that, the shifting starscape of freedom. I could see it receding as hoofsteps sounded on the stairs behind me, the egocentric construct of the oneirosphere recentering around Twilight's avatar. "Don't let it escape, Luna," she said, arriving at the bottom of the stairs. "It's time I fix this."

I whirled around, facing the younger alicorn. "Twilight, please!" I stuck my hoof out at the fake. "Would I allow you to blast holes in your own mind in the name of self improvement? I'm sorry that you're ashamed of what you feel for me, but this isn't the way to fix it!"

The fake Luna looked reproachfully at my hoof and pushed it away with her own. "Twilight, you've long wrestled with monsters in your dreams. That is what they are for — a safe place, a proving ground to grapple with your own mind. Nothing you do here can hurt you."

"Liar!" I hissed, jumping at my copy. Violet magic held me back, but I pushed against it, hooves flailing at my spiteful mirror image. "Turning our magic on ourself brought us to utter ruin! When we finally struck down Celestia in our own dreams, the Nightmare filled the hole she left! I won't let Twilight do that to herself!"

Twilight strengthened her aura, pulling me down to the ground and holding me there. As I struggled against it, my thoughts went back to my body in Canterlot, no doubt restlessly twisting in the sheets. If Twilight had her way... If she obliterated me here... my mind would be gone. The Luna in Canterlot would never wake up, and Celestia wouldn't even know why until Twilight realized what she'd done.

Tears ran down my face in hot streaks. A millennia missing my sister, punctuated by a scant few happy years together, and now what awaited? Would my soul even survive to move on to whatever was past this place, that plane above the dream I saw glimpses of like shadows on the creekbed? Surely there was something I could do, some way to get Twilight to see reason—

A soft touch on my cheek interrupted my thoughts. "Shh, it's okay," Twilight said, shushing me like a foal. "I know it's scary. I've needed you for so long, to control my impulses, to keep myself from ruining my relationship with Luna. But she loves us. She truly does. And now that we're an alicorn too, we can be with her. We can be happy, not just here in dreams, but in the real world too." I wanted to scream at her that this was all too real already.

The Luna in front of me smiled. It was a perfect replica of mine, from the crinkle at the corner of her eyes to the dimples on her cheeks. I knew, then, that even if the concept of oneiromancy was tangled in it, this was purely the Luna that lived in her mind, the likeness anypony forms of a loved one. And I knew, then, that I couldn't defeat it, because it was perfect to Twilight in every way.

I hung my head as my executioner ran her hoof through my mane. "We'll be so happy," Twilight Sparkle assured, eyes glimmering as they met the gaze of the fantasy that would kill me. I searched my mind, looking for one last argument, anything but last words. Anything but telling Twilight how to set the moon, or how to comfort Celestia when she found her dear little sister sleeping, never to wake up. My mouth wouldn't open, and all those sentiments only leaked out as more tears.

Luna didn't even feel it when Twilight wiped her away like she was a colt's doodle on a blackboard.