1,000 Years Later
Several school fillies sat around their teacher in front of the memorial to the victims of the Dollmaker. A menacing bronze mare, cloaked in shadows, loomed over a small building and several silver ponies. Several trees were planted around, creating a small grove that rustled in the gentle breeze.
“. . . and that is the story of the Dollmaker. Each year on Nightmare Night we honor the ponies captured by the Dollmaker. Our tradition here in the town of Harmony is to leave one doll per filly and colt as an offering to her, so that the Dollmaker is never alone. That way, she will not return to Equestria and begin stealing ponies again,” The teacher explained.
“Hey, my mother said one of our ancestors was there,” a mint green filly said. “Why are there no Heartstrings on the memorial?”
“Bonnie, it was a millenia ago. Our town was founded by some of the survivors, and I’m sure if you had an ancestor who was involved, her name would be on the memorial.”
The teacher gestured back to the memorial. The Dollmaker’s wings cast a shadow over her face in the moonlight. She stared down at several tiny ponies that shimmered silver. They stood their ground against the evil of the Dollmaker.
Beneath that, etched into obsidian, were the names of every pony that went missing so long ago. Every single one of them was accompanied by the symbol of their cutie mark, and for a thousand years they had been honored. The Dollmaker was now as much a part of Equestrian history as Nightmare Moon, yet nopony knew who the Dollmaker was. Only the fallen had their names preserved.
“Well, Miss Cherry, I bet my ancestor would have kicked her flank.” She giggled and trotted up to leave a small doll on the memorial.
“If you’re so sure, why don’t you take your doll back? Maybe the Dollmaker will come for you tonight,” an earth pony mocked.
“Nuh-uh, everypony knows she’s dead,” Bonnie said.
“Then why are we leaving offerings?” the earth pony asked. “I bet she’s still out there, watching us all right now. That’s why I brought her two dolls to play with! I don’t want her stealing my little brother either.”
“Tia, must you get this way every year? It has been a millenia,” Luna said.
Celestia picked at her cake, not eating it. A millenia had passed, and she still withdrew into her shell at this time of year. Old wounds ached and forgotten sins resurfaced. “Do you remember her name?” Celestia asked.
Luna was caught off guard by the question. She searched her memories, reaching back into the past, but came up empty. “I—no. I do not recall her name. Only that she was a student of yours. Surely whatever happened between you two is not your fault. I trusted your decision to expunge her name from the history books.”
Celestia set down her fork, still staring at the cake. “It is my fault. Nightmare Moon, the Dollmaker. . .” Celestia recounted each pony she had lost, and how many she could have saved. How many friends had she failed? How many must have died wondering where Celestia was? She looked up, and her sister could see the tears in her eyes. “Lulu, why do I always hurt the ponies closest to me?”
Luna had gotten used to her sister being more vulnerable. Ever since the Dollmaker, the walls she built around herself to keep the pain of loss out had crumbled. Comforting her and increasing her responsibilities in ruling the nation was the least she could do.
Luna got up and went around the table, hugging her sister with her wings. “Tia, you are my better half, the pure and unstained pony who has ruled for a millennium in my absence. I have always looked up to you, sister. If I have to help you cope with the grief for another thousand years, I would not hesitate. Your honesty and purity are worth protecting. It was not your fault. I chose to become Nightmare Moon, just as the Dollmaker made her choice.”
“You’re right, I think I’ll get some sleep.” Celestia stood up and walked towards the door.
“What was it?” Luna asked.
Celestia paused. “Hmm?”
“The Dollmaker’s name, what was it?”
Celestia bit her lip for a second, not turning to face her sister. “. . .I forgot.”
She left the dining hall and hurried to her room. She locked the doors and closed the windows. Already Celestia was on the verge of tears. She cast a spell revealing a false wall in her wardrobe. She levitated a dusty chest out and blew it off. Celestia set it on the floor and opened it as she had once every year.
A single scroll levitated up as she began to read through them again, hoping that someday she’d learn where she went wrong.
Dear Princess Celestia,
I’ve learned that one of the joys of friendship is sharing the blessings, but when there are not enough blessings to go around, having more than your friends can make you feel pretty awful. So, although I appreciate your invitation, I will be returning both tickets to the Grand Galloping Gala. If my friends can’t all go, I don’t want to go either.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle.