//------------------------------// // Luna's Children of the Night // Story: EqD Writer Training Grounds short stories by Georg // by Georg //------------------------------// Week 13 - Sweetie Belle -or- Luna’s Children of the Night After a thousand years, Princess Luna returns to the Dreamscape to once again make the night safe for her little ponies, but her world will be shaken to the very core by what she finds there. Her children. EqD prompt: Guiding the dreams of the realm is no easy task. Few realize, however, that Princess Luna has friends who help her do just that. This story is inspired by the fabulous animation First Nightmare’s Night, and the FimFiction story Children of the Night by Dark0592, although it diverges rather sharply from his fanfic, and is probably closer to my Nocturne Saga. 12 - For Whom The Sweetie Belle Tolls -or- Luna’s Children of the Night I can tell by her expression that my sister would rather chew off her own leg than to let me go. It is that same damnable countenance of cool compassion she wraps around her like a blanket whenever she is uncomfortable with a situation, a tranquil bliss of peace and harmony that her, that is our little ponies flock to like candy to foals. I have tried the expression myself, heavens and stars know I’ve tried, but our subjects only glance at me out of the corner of my eyes when I try, and edge as quickly out of the room as possible afterwards. She is their mother, their grandmother infinite times removed, while I am the cruel and pitiless night which conceals the monsters within. They do not love me, but they respect my power and bend the knee to me as quickly or even quicker than her when we approach. I can hear their whispers in the corridors as I pass, fearful for their lives and homes as they serve the one who was Nightmare Moon, and who might become so again. Still, they serve, despite their fear, not because of it. I was such a fool to think that giving myself to insanity would yield to me the love I so desired from them, but I am not so much a fool as to tread the same idiotic path again. Nightmare Moon is dead. Princess Luna lives. Before our time, the Night was a terrifying place, and our ponies could not even escape their fears in blessed slumber. While my sister forged the three pony tribes into one nation to drive the monsters away, I purged the Dreaming of creatures who fled her terrible vengeance. They can never be destroyed, but they could be driven back as long as we were united in our efforts. I have waited for far too long to return to the Dreaming, held back by infantile fears of my weakness and the constant assault of doubt. No longer shall I hesitate. The Dreaming waits for me. I shall not fail. I reach for the regalia of my sacred task gently, out of some forlorn hope that the intervening years would reduce it to dust at my touch. Alas, it remains just as soft and plush as the day it was created for me, patched in small and loving spots by a generous pony who took it upon herself to travel all the way to Canterlot for the humble task of mending a sleeping mask. Embroidered upon it in exquisitely precise stitches is the motto of the Dreamwalkers, Quis custodiet somniator. The broken threads and tattered corners of my ancient symbols of office have been refreshed with soft new material, and as much as I wish to complain about other hooves having touched my most precious possessions, I can not. The stuffed bear held under one cannon nestles tightly to my side as the gentle glide of cotton from my pajamas touches the sheets, my sister tucking me underneath the covers as she had done so many times before. I want to protest that I am a big princess now, and no longer need my big sister to tuck me in, but the words will not come. I am Princess Luna. I am the Guardian of Dreams. I have a responsibility. Even though the sleep mask is over my eyes, I can still hear the gentle clunk of a glass of water being placed on my bedside table, not full, as to spill when moved, but only filled halfway with a tissue draped over the top to keep out any curious moths. My heart wishes so much for her to sing to me before she leaves, but I cannot ask. She has not sung those words to me since centuries before I rebelled against her, not since I was very young and just learning to tread the starry expanse of the Dreamscape. I can hear her hoofsteps as she turns to leave, but she pauses, taking a moment to adjust the thick curtains on my bedroom and make a few tiny adjustments to my covers. Then the voice I have been wishing to hear for a thousand years gently raises itself in welcome song. ♫ Hush now, quiet now, it’s time to lay your sleepy head Hush now, quiet now, it’s time to go to bed Drifting off to sleep, exciting day behind you Drifting off to sleep, let the joy of dream land find you ♫ I shiver in anticipation as the Dreamscape enfolds me in its warm embrace, much like stepping back into a comfortable pair of slippers that had been lost under the bed for years. I must not lower my guard. The Dreamscape has been without guidance for far too many years, and the malevolent creatures who roam the Sea of Dreams will have run wild, spreading darkness across the minds of uncounted children. Braced as I am for the destruction and chaos of unleashed fears as I enter the realm, I am shocked beyond words as it opens up in front of me like a curtain parting upon a play. It is beautiful. The sparkling paths which the dreamers tread are pristine lines of beauty through the darkness, lit by my beautiful moon and the stars in glorious array above. I can see the dreamers, each in their own portion of this ethereal realm as they laugh and play without a single shriek of fear or agony. The only other sound I can hear is a light giggling, as if some playful foals were hiding behind clumps of dreamstuff in my vicinity, but when I approach, the young ponies tumble out in a chaotic pile at my hooves. “Good evening, Princess Luna,” they chorus, spread out in a small group of a dozen or so little foals, their bright, shining eyes looking at me with overwhelming joy. At first, I do not recognize them. There have been so many ponies who I have met over my centuries, but at last their names become obvious in a crush of sorrow. Wind Whisper. Spirit. Magpie. Gari. Their faces blur before me with my tears, and I can not bear to look at them any more. It is my worst nightmare brought to life, and I spread my wings to leap into the air and leave them all behind, to flee the Dreamscape forever as I feared I might need— They all leap at once onto me before my wings can even extend to their full reach, clutching onto every limb and my neck, their faces wet with sudden tears of their own. I cannot bear to strike them and make my escape. When I first raised my banner of revolt against my sister, these were the first children I took with me into exile at the Winter Castle. Abandoned by their elders in orphanages and on the streets of Canterlot, I was going to create a new world for them where they would be loved and cared for. Instead, I killed them, as I killed all who followed me in my insane quest for adoration as Nightmare Moon. I fall to the ground in the Dreamscape, waiting for the restless shades of my past to tear me apart as I deserve. Celestia was right. I was not ready to face my own fears, so why did I think I could help others face theirs? The pain does not come, but instead, a warmth begins to spread as the ghosts of the little ponies hold me tight in their damp embrace. “Don’t leave us, Princess.” Little Gari’s words fairly squeaked out in a panic. The little unicorn was always the one who was the most outspoken, overcoming her fear and challenging the world horn-first. When the Nightmare transformed our followers, she bounded around in the lead of the rest of the young ones, eager to show how her new powers could help me build our new city. Instead, I drew those powers away when I fought Celestia, slaying their innocent lives in a futile effort to save my own worthless hide. “Away, foul spirits,” I manage to gasp. “Torture me not with my deeds, for I shall ever be in anguish over them far greater than the worst pain you could inflict.” “We know.” One at a time, the little ponies release their tight grasp upon my body, remaining gathered around me as if they fear I will vanish like a popped bubble. I regain my hooves, but continue to watch them as they watch me in return. The faces I remember before their transformation were much less worn with care and age, with tiny indications of their activities in the centuries I was gone. Here a missing tooth, there a tip stubbed off an ear from wrestling with the fractious residents of the Dreamscape, but the joyful grins of their foalhood ever so slowly return under my anxious gaze. Seeming so real, little Gari looks up and clears her throat, clearly the most worried of the little ones. “When the rest of your followers were destroyed by Nightmare Moon, their spirits willingly departed the world for Elysium Fields, where they could forever be with their loved ones. Only we twelve remained, for the only pony to ever show us love had been banished to the moon. We were so angry that we determined to haunt your sister’s dreams in vengeance for what she had done. “It took weeks before she slept, and in that time, the dark creatures of the Dreaming gathered. Without you to keep them under control, they hungered for your sister’s time of vulnerability, when they would finally be able to break free and unleash their madness upon all of the dreamers who dared enter what they believed to be their exclusive domain. We gathered with them, but when she finally slept, we saw it was your loss that tortured her mind more than anything else. Her pain was our pain, and our anger turned to compassion as we thought of you. The twelve of us united to chase away the dark creatures rather than have one more pony suffer through their tortures. “Over the years, we ranged out into the Dreaming in your name, first to keep the nightmares away from your few followers who escaped death on that terrible night, then their families, and after a long time, we found our place in keeping the Dreaming as you would, protecting all who venture into the land. “When you returned…” Gari bows her head, as do the rest of the foals. “We saw the doubts that plagued your dreams, but did nothing. Can you forgive us, Princess?” It takes more effort than I have ever expended to remain standing instead of sweeping them all up in my embrace and covering them with kisses. “Thou asks if thy transgressions can be forgiven? The Domain of Dreams hast been guarded by thy presence since my descent into insanity, and kept with such care that it exceeds my best efforts, and thou begs my forgiveness? Nay, children. ‘Tis I who should beg at thy hooves for forgiveness. I foolishly sought love from the rest of Equestria, blind to what I had within my grasp. I struck you down in my insanity, and you have returned blessings beyond measure for my heinous crimes.” “All is not perfect in the Dreaming,” says Gari, still with head downcast. “There are still those whom we cannot reach, and dark beings who still stalk the far reaches.” I reach down and lift her chin up so that I may look into her glimmering eyes, still damp with ghostly tears. “The darkness will always be there, my child, as will those who will not see. It is time to rest now, my children. Thou hast stayed far too long from thy journey’s end and thy proper reward. I shall guard the dreamers now, as thou hast in my absence, while you continue on to Elysium Fields.” They do not move, but remain huddled around me without a single sound. Finally, Gari looks up, her voice a bare whisper. “No.” The others look up also, their eyes all fixed on me with a sincerity of determination that I have never seen before. They speak of their love for me that has carried them through the ages, and their love for the ones who they shepherd through the night. They tell me tales and stories about the young and the old, small ones who fear the shadows that move in their bedrooms and the old ones who can sense their upcoming departure from the world as well as all kinds between. They speak of of griffons and minotaurs, of the surreal dreams of seaponies and flutterponies and breezies until the air seems filled with their desires. And they speak of their love for me. They take me through the Dreaming to the places that seem foreign to me now, where ponies once huddled in the darkness and prayed for the rising sun, or bent under the lash of dominion, begging for an end to their pain. Now the dark places are filled with moonlight as little fillies and colts chase fireflies while the dark creatures lurk far away, unwilling to expose their ugliness to my sparkling night. When they are done, they return with me to the place of my entrance, covering me with damp kisses and hugs while extorting promises of future adventures and exploration when I return. I kiss them back, my beloved children who have been through so much. The burden of duty that pressed so heavily upon my back before seems light as a feather, spread about their smiling faces and laughter. They gather around one last time to see me depart, with tears of joy and smiles instead of the grief and pain I had feared. Little Gari is the last to speak before I leave, with her head held high and a joyous pride that fills her voice. “Sleep well, Princess, and return soon. We shall guard thy night while you slumber.” Traveling Through Time and Space by Alice4444dm on DeviantArt, used by permission.