Chapter 29: Far Side of the Moon
Princess Luna and her army returned to their previous encampment. On the way, the astronomically necessary alicorn traveled in a gilded silver carriage; she could exert herself to keep the sun near the horizon at the same time that she was walking or talking, but not both. Her loyal magicians kept pace with her and assisted; they could not reach the sun, but they could impart some of their energy and concentration to her.
Applejack told Luna how Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Fluttershy had come to them. Luna was interested to note that the six of them were together again. Applejack did not, however, mention Celestia. All she said of the bizarre little pegasus was that Twilight thought she held the key to raising the sun. She hated the feeling of not telling the whole truth, but she didn’t know how to say it to Luna. Each time the major came close to revealing her theory, she stumbled over the apparent absurdity of it and second-guessed her reasoning.
Luna told her the details about the destruction of Ponyville and reassured her that it had indeed been evacuated. Then Luna departed her side with the intention of arriving in camp well ahead of the main force. She felt awful that she hadn’t been able to prepare the Princess for what she would soon face.
It was uncharacteristic Premier to leave her soldiers without explanation. Troops wondered what was going on as true night fell. For a while, the full moon hung reassuringly in the middle of the sky, but then it too began a slow descent.
Reaching the camp, Applejack immediately found Luna’s tent. The guards outside told her to wait. “The Premier is not to be disturbed,” they insisted. Time passed, and other officers and messengers joined the major. The guards began to sense they were obeying their orders to the point of foolishness; the Princess had not said she was indisposed for a great deal of time, and the pressure of things that needed her attention was building. Even so, no pony would be the first to enter; they loved Luna, but she was an angel of darkness to be feared and respected.
Finally Applejack felt that her errand was too important to wait; she took off her hat and entered the tent alone. There were two chambers to the place; the outer room was laid out as a war room. Maps with scattered formation markers were spread over tables. A long distance radio sat in one corner; on the other side was an area for assisting magicians to wait on her, complete with high-end spell books and potions.
The freckled pony cautiously advanced through the space to the curtain-door of the inner chamber. She looked up to see the magical warrior’s armor hanging as if it was itself on watch. It was one articulated piece, giving it the appearance of a sinister silver skeleton. Applejack noticed a small dent on its slick surface, and wondered if anyone else had seen it.
“Princess Luna?” she said, but received no reply. She pulled the curtain aside just enough to see. She was not prepared for the sight.
The noble alicorn was sprawled across her bed in an undignified posture. She snuggled with a misshapen dragon doll and the old abacus, and snored softly. The Princess seemed smaller now. The edge of a warm wool blanket lay haphazardly over her side, with her flank poking out awkwardly. No longer framed as geopolitical heraldry, the dark sky of her cutie mark blotched playfully across her rump and chest. Her mane and tail lay still as they rarely did these days; they were a lighter blue than the skin they pooled around and scarce a twinkling star was to be seen. Her face had released the tension that usually held it firm, but her tightly shut eyes kept a sense of concern. Her expression was wistful. It seemed to Applejack that the Princess had been abducted and replaced with something… vulnerable… and cute.
It was no surprise that Luna’s private apartment was royally furnished, but Applejack did not expect its character. Rich tapestries formed a wall of cool tones around the bedroom. Depicted in excellent quality were innocuous and youthful nighttime scenes. Several showed Luna as a filly or young pony, curled up tightly, prancing on clouds, or flying with the moon. All of these were incomplete, though. They were asymmetrically framed, as if they were meant to face an equal embroidery that complemented them. Some had clearly been cut down the middle, heedlessly dissecting elements of the tranquil scenes.
One showed the diurnal cycle; it was the classic image of the yin and yang of the sun and moon, Celestia and Luna forever circling each other. Since it was Luna’s, it may have even been the original. Now it was split in two, and only the night remained. Applejack appreciated it as a gesture of independence, but could not shake the fact that it was somehow sad. The disconnected portrait showed unnatural yang without yin. Luna was caught in a teardrop falling through space.
Completely apart in style and theme was a painting of what must have been the moon. It was painted with quick, decisive black brush strokes. Applejack wasn’t sure it was the moon though; there was no mare in the moon. Instead, the white orb was cracked and battered, its pristine surface viscerally damaged.
Applejack caught herself gawking. She stepped in to give the Princess a gentle shake.
Luna inhaled sharply and jerked her head up. On reflex she started to hide the abacus under herself, but she froze and looked up into her faithful subject’s eyes. She glanced around her comforting little sanctuary and back to Applejack, who followed her gaze. Luna sighed. Mutual awareness could not be retracted.
“Sorry, I didn’t know,” Applejack sympathized.
“You were not meant to, but it is alright,” Luna allowed. “Do not speak of it,” she requested softly. With reserved consideration, she added, “I suppose it will not really matter at the end.”
“If you’ll pardon my asking, what’s that?” Applejack asked, gesturing at the mysterious painting.
“It is the moon,” Luna stated simply.
“But—“ Applejack started to object, but hesitated, not wanting to offend.
“But that is not what it looks like?” the Princess completed knowingly. “That is how it appears from the other side, but it only shows one face to Equestria. That is what Equestria needs.”
They reflected on the figureless, blasted landscape a moment before Luna inquired, “How long have I been asleep?
“Maybe a couple hours,” the major reported.
The Princess shook her head; she had not meant to desert her post so. “What requires my attention?”
“Twilight and the others are waiting to speak with you like you said,” Applejack remembered.
The alicorn gingerly lifted the blanket off of her wounded wing and rose up to her full height. It was only an illusion, but she seemed to stretch herself larger. She stepped past Applejack and closed the curtain behind them. “I hope you do not think me dishonest. What am I supposed to do?”
Applejack was silent.
With a deep breath, the Princess donned her crown. She continued to wonder, “Have I done wrong? I wanted to protect my ponies, but I may have led them to death.” She stepped under her armor and let it close around her.
“You stood up for what was right, it’s not your fault it didn’t go your way,” Applejack reassured. Luna nodded her helmeted head.
“Are you gonna see them in private?” the earth pony asked.
“No,” Luna replied. “My soldiers have given up everything for me and their country, and now they are losing hope. They deserve to hear what is left to fight for.” She closed her eyes tightly as the spirit of strength and determination rose inside her again. Dark blue flowed out of her body along the hairs of her mane and tail, and they began to ripple once more. Sharp points of light appeared as the stars reasserted themselves. The warrior Princess opened her eyes. “Let us now choose our history.”
A bare hill to the west of the camp made a natural meeting area. By the time Luna arrived to take her place on top of the hill, it had been prepared for her arrival. Not by her insistence but by her supporters’ devotion, a small shrine awaited her. She sat on ample cushions under a pavilion of gold lace on purple linen, flanked by large Lunar banners. Magicians and guards stood to either side. A carpet was rolled partway down the gentler slope of the hill to delineate the area of royal audience. Troops trampled down the grass and low weeds as they gathered, and officers lined up to form an aisle leading up to her.
Usually, the Senate would have been present for decisions of great importance and necessary to authorize action. Fortunately, it was already arranged that the Premier would be granted emergency war powers should the Empire invade, and costly delays could be avoided.
Applejack left the Princess to collect her friends. Those six mares who seemed to somehow fall into destiny moved up the hill together to the bottom edge of the carpet. As the two Solars seeking audience, Doctor Sparkle and Captain Dash advanced toward the Princess, who waited with her moon shining behind her. They were aware of multiple weapons, including anti-magic weapons, readied in case the commando and dark magician threatened Luna.
The precautions were understandable, but Luna was not concerned. She started the meeting by addressing the crowd, “This is Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash. While they may have been our enemies, they have come peacefully. Even yesterday they saved the lives of many Solar and Lunar soldiers.” Having cleared their names, she opened the floor: “You have come seeking my audience, and now you have it.”
Twilight found herself nervous under the gaze of Luna and her army, especially with the message she had to tell. Rainbow Dash’s nonchalant presence and the sheer necessity helped her steady herself, and she raised her voice, “Princess Luna, you are powerful, but your arts are not enough to raise the sun. Regardless of who wins, Equestria cannot survive without its light.”
Luna gave a nod.
“This war started when Celestia disappeared and the sun fell; I believe there’s hope for peace if it rises again,” Twilight asserted more boldly. “I’m here because I know where Celestia is, and that she wants to stop the war.” The assembled troops murmured doubtfully. The Princess, too, was suspicious of her sister’s intentions.
“She has been—hurt—and the General has taken control of the Empire,” she continued. “As strange as it may be, she is asking for your help.”
After a moment of shocked silence, dissenting and even mocking voices could be heard. Luna frowned; she feared the situation would force her hoof. Should the world go on if it could only be ruled by evil? She had not decided. In any case, she was not entirely convinced that her sister was alive; she could not imagine herself being separated from the moon while she still had breath. “Where is she and what help does she require?”
“I think she should tell you herself,” Twilight replied, and signaled.
Rarity and Fluttershy stood aside from Dusk, who had been largely unnoticed. Luna’s eyes shot to Applejack, who returned an apologetic expression. Dusk, looking dreary and slightly pathetic, loped up the aisle with her head down. She passed Dash and Twilight, and proclaimed feebly, “I am Celestia.”
Some laughed at the implausibility of it. Luna knew when she saw Dusk what she would say. Instead of reacting as she did at first, Luna resolved to hold back her emotions until she was sure they would not be wasted. “If you are Celestia, remove your disguise and show yourself,” she demanded.
“I can’t. There is no disguise,” Celestia said, shaking her head. “This is how I am now.”
One of the magicians attending the moon Princess cast a dissolution spell on her, but the small grey one remained the same. “The F! She’s not even an alicorn!” somepony shouted.
“Dusk” pulled back her carefully arranged mane to display her stumpy horn. The surrounding eyes stared at her, and some narrowed hatefully. “Celestia should die!” a voice called. “Kill her!”
Twilight and Rainbow Dash moved to protect her, but aid from Solars only fed the crowd’s anger.
“SILENCE! ORDER!” Luna’s great voice boomed. “She is under my protection until I make my judgment.” The ranks were hushed; none would disrespect her authority.
She fixed her gaze intensely on Dusk. The diminutive alicorn sweated and her mouth went dry. “How can you be Celestia? What has happened?”
“A force that I don’t understand struck me down and changed me so that I can’t control the sun,” Celestia explained. “I’ve consulted an artifact, and I think there is a way for me to be restored, but I need your help to do it.”
Still in denial, Luna probed, “Speak like my sister, and show us what you know.”
Celestia considered the challenge, before replying, “I know you.” She shook her head again, lamenting, “I should’ve loved you, but I was an awful bitch to you.”
Refocusing on the test she continued, “I know what you’ve been doing. Every day I caused death and discord within your borders. I hid my attacks in my light and in ripples of cause and effect. Every day I wondered how to cause you pain in secret. Every night I waited for your move. What shadows would conceal you, and how would you work your revenge?”
The Imperial media held as fact that Luna regularly infiltrated their territory to stir up evil deeds and havoc. Even many in the Republic clung to the idea to ease their frustration.
Celestia admitted the truth of the matter, “Every night you shamed me and stood resolute above me, for you made no reply to my insults and attacks. You never broke the treaty and you always watched over your own subjects. After all I’ve done, how can I say ‘I’m sorry’? It would be an insult. I’m shit next to you.”
“You are perceptive,” the Premier said, “but Celestia is far too proud to grovel so.”
“I was,” the fallen ruler insisted. “I know you. No one else does, do they? I still remember the truth, though I claimed you were all darkness and nightmares. Your own ponies know you as a light in the darkness, which is also who you are. They see a ruler, a warrior, a guardian. But that’s not what you wanted to be. You wanted…”
Celestia came closer so that she would not have to speak as loudly. It seemed so wrong, so alien to the present world, that it was hard to verbalize. “You wanted to be the fairytale princess everyone told you that you would be while they made you grow up so fast. I remember when you weren’t a bold light. You were a pretty light—a sweet dream. That’s what you always said. When you went to sleep, I told you ‘Good morning,’ and then I made sure you did have a good morning. And every night, you told me, ‘Sweet dreams,’ and I knew I would have sweet dreams.”
They were innocent words from polluted lips. The words hurt, as did the recollection. Each of them shared their most tender memories with their worst enemy. It was only pitiful, and agonizingly sad, to talk about the kind of innocence that they could never have again.
Finally, this was testimony enough for Luna. She held her head high and looked down, her eyes wet with angry tears. All were motionless and silent. She stood like a monument, a worn but menacing gargoyle that watches over a cemetery. The air was heavy and oppressive as darkness gathered involuntarily around the Princess. Righteous wrath pooled in her chest like deep waters behind a dam. Here was everything that had hurt her and her ponies, a font of bitterness and betrayal. She felt too the loneliness of the moon forced to wander the sky alone, for her sister had long been dead to her, leaving no one who understood her existence. What mercy could she give to one so pitiless? She longed inwardly for a reunited family. But after all that she had been through, her mind reeled in horror at the thought of once again seeking Celestia’s love.
“Leave!” she commanded from the darkness in a pained but stern royal voice. The servants and soldiers retreated from the hill. The ashen alicorn stood unflinching until she was carried away by royal guards. The moon rapidly abandoned the night sky, casting the land into real shadow. Total blackness and silence shrouded the crest of the hill from all else.