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// Memories of a Time Long Gone and Lives We Lost 
// Story: From the Eternal Love of a Sister 
// by Scootareader 
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The chariot flight back to Canterlot beside my sister is contentedly silent. We ask her several smaller questions about the current state of affairs, large technology leaps, and the relocation of our home.

These revelations are jarring enough to make us introspective, needing to mull over these differences and reconcile them before we are prepared to face them. Equestria is not quite what was expected after being gone for so long, but we will love this new and foreign land all the same.

My sister keeps glancing at us nervously. We do not blame her; the last time she saw us was 1000 years ago, and we were attempting to kill her. Her furtive eyes darting searchingly into my impassive gaze belies her suspicion. She fears a relapse.

We will not lie: This is a fear my sister and I both share. To succumb to the darkness so quickly again, after countless years spent in loneliness and misery—we shudder at the thought. We would surely go mad were we to be imprisoned again.

This does not stop our ponderances, however. We care not for what my sister thinks of my silence; let her worry and fret over her little sister. It is more than she has ever done in the past.

We want to believe that Celestia has changed. We know that she has missed us. We have seen it ourselves. That does not mean a radical change in stature or attitude. Celestia is still Celestia, whether she will admit it to us or not, and we can see the arrogance still in her eyes.

We will not let it anger us, though. Nightmare Moon will win if we do. We are stronger than the darkness, and we will show my sister that there is naught to fear.





I glance with concern at my sister. She’s even more absorbed in her own thoughts than usual.

This isn’t surprising, I admit. She has spent the last 1000 years thinking to herself, perhaps even talking to herself. The only other living things she may have seen are Nightmare Moon, ponies in dreams, and likely the hallucinations she created out of her own mind.

Perhaps a psychologist would be a good idea at this point. Or a psychiatrist. Anypony to help Luna find herself again.

I love her so much. I can’t stand to see her unhappy anymore. I just want to talk and talk until my voice grows hoarse, then drink some water and keep talking until my vocal cords give out on me. Not even then would I be able to tell Luna everything she means to me, and I wouldn’t have even gotten through the apologies I owe her.

So what stays my voice now?

Why can’t I tell Luna how important she is to me? Am I afraid that she will ignore me? Disbelieve me? Dismiss me?

As I’ve done to her in the past. As I’ve ignored, disbelieved, and dismissed all my sister has ever told me.

I’m as afraid of her as she was of me. Yet, Luna never once backed down or didn’t make her feelings known. I’m a coward, unfit to rule a nation.

Is she any better than I?

Luna gave in to the darkness inside her 1000 years ago. She has had 1000 years to consider her actions and learn from them. Yet, here I am, frozen in fear that she won’t accept how I feel about her.

I look at her again. She looks so young.





The last time I saw Luna this young, I was not much older than she. One might say we had some semblance of a normal life, back then.

We were born alicorns, as far as the both of us know. We asked Mother many times about who we were, and always received dodgy or cryptic answers. As far back as our memories go, they simply began one day.

Luna and I both remember our first day. We have not gone back to those days for a long time. It was only her and me for what felt like forever.

It can’t have been more than a few hours that we were left alone. I remember feeling hungry and setting up a bit of a wail, Luna’s own cries matching mine in intensity, until Mother came and quieted us.

Nothing will ever make me forget those first few hours spent with my sister, though. It was only her and me in a strange new world, the both of us full of life, potential, and adventurousness.

It wasn’t until we discovered our cutie marks and our destinies that we lost ourselves—who we were for who we are. It was then that we realized what we were born to do, what die had been cast over the rest of our lives.

We traded innocence for immortality that day. We had forsaken love for duty. We became opposites, both in embodiment and in our minds.

We’ve never forgotten who we were; it just can’t change who we are.





So, I keep my mouth shut. Whatever thinking Luna is doing, I will only irritate her if I disrupt it.

At least, that’s what I say to myself to justify my cowardice.