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// Entry Fourteen 
// Story: Diary of an Aspiring Tyrant 
// by SugarPesticide 
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July 4, 1000 ANM

Today there happened to be a most pleasant surprise. Sister Dearest requested that I accompany her to the garage — not the small menial place where busy servants tidy up the chariots, but the grand chamber where said chariots are normally stored. In this not much has changed since my banishment; as then, there are mainly the bulky yet sleek golden monstrosities that she is so fond of, with a few less garish vehicles for unofficial use. It would not do for the royal princess of Equestria to be seen seated in a haphazard hearse of common wood and metal.

I noted a horrifically pink chariot near the main entrance, which she was pleased to point out and detail its every moment of history. It belongs to Mi Amore Cadenza, she told me, as if I could not guess as much from the fat shimmering blue heart adorning its front. She had been granted access to her own chariot since she was a filly, though she was still in the process of learning how to drive it for herself. Despite this, she much preferred to ride on her simple bicycle, which was propped up unceremoniously against that great pink abomination.

Why she would do such a thing when soldiers could easily to the travelling work for her is beyond me, for is that not their job? To serve their princesses in whatever way they (the princesses) see fit? If only those foals would listen to me. The Royal Guards seem to have a vendetta against me, ever since I critically injured some of their number while entrapped in my madness. It was an accident at its core, as they well know. I must find a way to sway them to my cause. Subtly, of course. It would not do to blab my dearest secrets to those whose first and only priority is to preserve Sister Dearest's physical and political safety.

Anyways, Sister Dearest led me around a particularly jewel-crusted creation, where I abruptly found myself facing my own sleek dark chariot, my wonderful Moonbeam. She is a thing of spikes and darkness, black as night. The glorious insignia of my cutie mark glimmers on either side, each directly above a jagged wing-like protrusion. The mark of a pupil-slitted eye adorns her front, a stark reminder of the watchfulness ever present in her royal rider. She has been a loyal companion to me throughout the centuries, bold and proud as the night. A pony might go so far as to say that Moonbeam is my greatest friend, aside from Sister Dearest, of course.

"I've done my best to keep it in prime condition," Sister Dearest managed to say once my squeals had died down to an appropriate level. "I hope that you can take it from here; all of those preservation spells I cast on it were quite taxing. I knew how much it meant to you, so I've taken the liberty of keeping it well until your return."

"Moonbeam!" I exclaimed, enveloping her lidless eye in a warm embrace. "How I neglected you in my time of troubled possession! How you rusted within the sad confines of Everfree, alone and forgotten! But no more. From this day forth, you shall be at the forefront of my concerns!"

This was, of course, a gentle lie, for Moonbeam is a tricky sort and requires much love and affection to function properly, and my goals of overthrowing the diarchy are rather more pressing. Inwardly I promised to ride out upon her once my conquest is complete, as she cuts an intimidating figure and strikes fear love and awe into even the most casual of bystanders. She will have a garage of her own, and a maintenance crew as well. No common member of the horse-carts is she. The names of Luna and Moonbeam will reverberate throughout history.

"It looks like my job here is done." Sister Dearest stifled a giggle. "I'll be holding court soon, Luna, so I must go. Spend as much time out here as you like."

And so I did. I lounged within the marvelously soft interior, gazing at the ceiling with an unbecoming grin on my face. I fear love that I may have frightened away an approaching pair of chariot cleaners with my unnatural expression, but that is of little concern to me. Moonbeam is old, older than any of those golden nonsense chariots, and her sturdiness is a testament to her faithfulness.

She has borne me across the majestic city Everfree gleaming like a jewel in the sun, the vast shimmering Crystal Expanses shining blue and silver, the mighty mossy mountains of the alpaca tribes, and the cool purple twilight above the Endless Plain. There was more than that, of course, but the ones I mentioned were the most poetic. And with any luck, we may find more poetry together soon enough.

"I shall ride you," I told her, stroking her chain-like reins. "No matter how trivial the pursuit, or how small the distance, all will bow before the might of Moonbeam."

I wonder sometimes if talking to my chariot is a healthy endeavor. Such wondering is, of course, utter foolishness, for Moonbeam is a sensitive vehicle and requires the utmost respect. Now that I ponder on it, there is little wonder that Sister Dearest's chariots keep breaking down. Nopony treats them as I would. Chariot equality will be a considerable issue to take on when I am empress, but I am certain that all will treat the topic with the appropriate seriousness.