//------------------------------// // Entry Forty-Five // Story: Diary of an Aspiring Tyrant // by SugarPesticide //------------------------------// November 1, 1000 ANM Last night was a strange occasion. How else can one describe the odd relationship between the common pony’s appreciation for their rightful ruler, and their unease regarding her? Let me regale future readers on these events, so they may come to their own conclusions. I required guards to transport me to Ponyville, so I summoned a pair of batponies for that purpose. I believe I had been told of their names before, but they elude me. Astounding Puma? Daisy Chain? Whatever they are, they are certainly fitting for members of the Night Guard, as they have informed me that they and their comrades have become an appropriate presence in the night. That is to say, I have my doubts, for it is a simple matter to falsify a report in such a setting. But as they asked no questions about my cloak of bats, I was generous enough not to press the issue. Soon we were off, soaring through the dark and stormy night. Beneath me, Moonbeam was quite as comfortable as she had been in previous millennia. Truly I am blessed to have such a loyal chariot. But such thoughts were not what occupied my mind then, as I had for consideration the more pressing matter of how events would transpire. Not that I held the slightest doubt that all would be well, of course! It was clear for all to see that I was worthy of a warm welcome. But I knew that it would nevertheless be quite strange to arrive in the town where Nightmare Moon had first set hoof after a thousand years. After the previous two occasions on which I set eyes on those ponies — once through the eyes of a vicious demon, and once in the blinding brilliance of a triumphant sun — it would be an experience to view them from an ordinary perspective. My obvious assurance was sufficient to distract me from these misgivings. Soon enough, however, I drew closer to Ponyville, passing the tops of the Everfree trees along the way. Knowing that my arrival drew ever closer, I concealed myself in the hood of my cloak, preparing to reveal myself to the unsuspecting commoners at the correct moment. Harnessing moonlight, I arranged for us to burst through the cloud cover in a surge of cold brilliance. Below us was a small herd of ponies in strange dress, crowded around a menacing statue, but those details seemed of little importance. We descended in a rush of wind, and a wide smile graced my features in anticipation of their unbridled joy. A pony dressed as a chicken screamed. “It’s Nightmare Moon! Run!” She galloped off for town, and her companions followed suit. My grin did not falter. I would not allow a little history to destroy this chance, no! I would be the bigger mare and gently persuade them to love me. Is that not the tyrannical thing to do? The chicken and her ponies arrived just barely before I did, which was fortunate. All the better for my presence to be realized under my own terms! Indeed, the citizens gazed up in astonished awe, as they rightfully should. Here and now, they would accept my glory as their true beacon toward which the moths should flutter on the pursuit of their own fiery doom! … I am uncertain as to what has become of that sentence. It reminds me too much of Micah Jayfill, a connection which I hope to avoid in the future. The guards slowed us once we had arrived at the town square. I patted Moonbeam on the seat in farewell, then stepped fearlessly lovelessly from her confines and descended without wings. In truth, I had forgotten them in the excitement, so it is fortunate indeed that I have the resilience of an earth pony and the arcane aura of a unicorn. I landed. The ponies gaped in obvious adoration. The time had come, so I did not delay: I threw back my hood, letting my gorgeous mane flow freely across my shoulders. I was the perfect picture of the princess, gazing knowingly at the dozens of bowing subjects before me. Truly this was what I had always dreamed of, to be respected and feared loved as is my right! With purposeful hooves, I approached them. My wings unfurled, and the cloak of bats dissolved into an aimless flock at the motion, chittering as they departed into the depths of the sky. I paid them little heed, for in truth there was little to be bothered by their abrupt absence. Considering my subtle enmity with all manner of beasts, it was a small miracle that the creatures had consented to remain long enough for the ponies to witness. “Citizens of Ponyville!” My use of the Royal Canterlot Voice was necessary, for what else would convince them of my clear superiority? Ah, but that would-be rhetorical question found an unexpected answer in a passing stroke of genius. “We have graced your tiny village with our presence, so that you might behold the real princess of the night! A creature of nightmares no longer, but instead a pony who desires your love and admiration. Together we shall change this dreadful celebration into a bright and glorious feast!” For the convenience of future readers, I will remark that in the previous millennium, protocol required us royals to speak on behalf of each other when in the public eye. It was a sign of unity, or so the reasoning went. Not only did it connect the speaker with her noble family; it also illuminated the deep ties between her and her subjects. For what is a ruler without ponies to guide her, and to be guided? The trust they place in me is not something I would lightly abuse, even though experience has taught me their need for a firm hoof to lead them in the right direction. The whole matter is a complicated business. The point I wish to make is that I conveyed to them the truth — or rather, the version of the truth they wished to hear. For reasons unknown, ponies shun the idea of a tyrant, a sad fact that makes my cause all the more difficult. The chicken pony was quick to twist my words, however, claiming that I, as Nightmare Moon, wished to devour them. Screams echoed against charming houses as she and her entourage of foals bolted off, leaving me wondering at their disrespect. Did they see a trace of armor on my person? Of course not. Why, then, should they be blind to such an obvious fact? Nightmare Moon was a terrible creature, but she has become a creature of the past. And such is thanks to members of their own community, no less! It is concerning that they should forget my previous appearance there in the space of a few short months. I called after them, assuring that their fear love was misplaced. Yet they seemed unwilling to listen to anything but their own caterwauling. Deciding they were a lost cause, I addressed the mayor in an effort to find a connection in authority, but she was just as reluctant to respond positively as they had been. Likewise, the others who remained preferred quivering in their horseshoes to lifting their voices in reverence. Only one did not shiver and shake. A particular unicorn, garbed in the familiar hat and cloak of an old friend, looked on with calculating eyes … though even she had bowed to me, along with her dragon familiar. What game was she playing? Perhaps she wished to mock me for my simple return to grace? I could imagine her writing to Sister Dearest in a moment of weakness, inquiring as to whether I had pawed through any forbidden tomes of eldritch lore. It was in that moment I realized they would not accept me. To them I was cold and distant as the stars, and twice as terrifying in the vast gulf that separated us. Even in spite of my attempt to show them the solidarity of my intentions! My heart sank; my breath caught. I watched as if from a distance as I stalked off, nose turned toward the sky in a laudable imitation of Blueblood. I could not stay here, I realized. This had been a mistake. It would have been simpler, even safer, to remain in the palace and continue to play chess as though this were a night like any other. How might a pony hope to overthrow a thousand years of prejudice? Even in the face of Sister Dearest’s campaign to divorce me from the specter of Nightmare Moon, they clung to the memories of the old terrors she wrought in their dreams. I knew not where my hooves were taking me until I looked up and saw that statue again. A snarling face glared back at me, and for a sobering moment it was like looking into a mirror. A tremor wracked my body, and I knelt there at its base, falling into its shadow. It was weak of me, but what pony would dare approach me now, even after my personable entrance? Truly I was alone, with naught but my darker half to keep me company. “Princess Luna?” I snapped to attention. I knew that voice intimately. She had followed me, had seen me in my moment of weakness. I could not let her gain the upper hoof, even if despair threatened to cloud my mind. This was my nemesis, after all. It was imperative that I remained a figure that she would respect. “Hi.” She sounded tentative. “My name is—” “Starswirl the Bearded. Commendable costume.” I hoped that my aloof expression would mask my desire to cringe. In truth, I had no idea why I said those words. What is there to say to the pony who saved you and destroyed you in a single stroke? The situation was steeped in more discomfort than a pegasus trapped in the belly of a mine. Still, there was no direction to go but forward. “You even got the bells right.” To my surprise and mild concern, she was delighted. She was quick to reveal that no other had known the origin of her garb, suggesting the astounding ignorance of the common pony. Upon noticing my expression, however, she slipped back into a shade of caution, and began to introduce herself. I was astounded at her gall. Did she honestly think I would forget who she is? I reminded her rather forcefully of this fact, and the clouds gathered behind me as I projected power into my voice. To use the vernacular, she was blown away by my words, a fact which gave me no small measure of satisfaction. When she spoke next, it was a gentle reproach. She claimed that my Royal Canterlot Voice was unnecessary. What foalishness! Surely, I thought, they would respect the adherence to tradition, regardless of whether its practitioner had once been a monster. She told me it was a fault that could be fixed. I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. My nemesis, informing me that I had made a mistake? Perhaps reports of her intellect had been exaggerated. Nevertheless, she was willing to help me, so I decided to humor her. We made our way to a charming cottage outside of town, where we encountered another of the bearers of Harmony. She was Fluttershy, and it showed. Her hesitance to speak with us did not endear me to her, nor did her immediate belief that I was Nightmare Moon. What truly disturbed me, however, was the look in her eyes. This was not a pony who cared for her fellow equines. She is a disturbing creature, though the exact nature of her uncanny aura is not something I can easily place a hoof upon. I attempted to conceal my suspicions through the use of physical affection, confident in the belief that anypony who put that much effort into being unobtrusive would not expect a pony to shower her with care. She was frantic to stay away from me, however, and eventually shut us out for good. By then, at least, she had helped me to see that in this time it was acceptable to quiet myself to an ordinary tone, so the endeavor was not a complete loss. Unfortunately, the chicken pony happened to be passing by at that moment, and of course misconstrued the situation as an act of aggression on my part. She and the foals screeched as they fled the scene. Forgetting my earlier decision to let them be, I pled with them to see reason, but they refused. Not even lowering my voice would convince them otherwise. I was beginning to truly dislike that pony. Twilight Sparkle had another idea, as seemed her tendency. Leading me back into the town square, she brought me to another of her friends, the loyal Applejack. Imagine my relief when this earth pony only cowered for a few seconds before informing me of a strange invention! To think, that mortals could create something as abstract as this “fun!” I must search for methods of discovering the nature of whatever it was. I shall admit, the next few minutes were a blur of amusement and spiraling rage. All I know for certain is that spiders were involved, and my head spun in a peculiar way as chaos accelerated to nearly the force of a stampede. For whatever reason, one voice — my own — sticks in my memory. “Since you choose to fear your princess rather than love her, and dishonor her with this insulting celebration, we decree that Nightmare Night shall be canceled! Forever!” Now that I consider this, I realize that I could have simply canceled the holiday upon first hearing of it. Is it not my right to defend my reputation, or at least what remains of it? When I regained control of my senses, I had fled the scene. My shame could not be put into words. How dare I dishonor myself with such a disgraceful display? Was that not precisely what I hoped to avoid by arriving there? Before, I had been in essence a victim of their prejudice. Now I had actively fed it. I had none to blame but myself. It was not the action of a kindly tyrant to terrify them so. It was something a far, far worse pony would do … or perhaps a demon. Was this not how I had acted before my ultimate fall from grace? Entitled beyond what even I deserved, and willing to shock others in order to get my way? I cannot rightly say what injured me more: the rejection of the ordinary ponies, or the realization that I had not, in fact, improved myself since my return. Twilight Sparkle met me on a bridge, which I suppose would mean something in another time and place. She apologized for the fiasco, attempting to reason with me by claiming that they truly loved Nightmare Night. I was skeptical of this, of course, and wished to retreat further to piece together the shattered remains of my pride. But she was insistent, so I decided, once again, to humor her. We cornered the chicken pony in an alley. She clucked in an aggravating manner at the sight of me, but at least she did not shriek again. As Twilight Sparkle addressed her as Pinkie Pie, I fixed upon the latter my least amused glare, hoping to convey my displeasure at having this night slide steadily down the slope of dignity. It was the least I could do, in truth. Still, I was willing to make amends. Is that not what I am obligated to do, to cement myself as a ruler who is destined to lead the ponies to a glorious future? Unfortunately, a poorly-timed stormcloud positioned by a rainbow pegasus nearly ruined everything, and I was forced to watch as Twilight Sparkle confronted the earth pony before she could flee the scene entirely. I nearly resolved in that moment to find my guards and leave, lest this night truly become a nightmare. They spoke for a moment, and then Twilight Sparkle felt compelled to drag me about once again! I wondered if she were secretly enjoying this. But that did not make sense, I realized. Her concern throughout the night was genuine, if inexplicable. She is a very strange pony. I nearly put my hoof down upon realizing we were coming back to the statue of Nightmare Moon, but she explained her theory. Pinkie Pie, she said, took pleasure in being scared, as did the foals that followed her. It was some bizarre piece to the puzzle known as “fun.” To test this idea, she wanted me to intentionally scare the foals by donning the appearance of the true Nightmare Moon! I was flabbergasted. But at length, I reasoned that if they saw a monster when they looked at me, the armored visage of the Nightmare would not make much of a difference. The worst they could do was scream and run again … and hurt me further still, but it was a feeling I had become accustomed to over the night. I agreed to assist Twilight Sparkle in her scheme. Somehow I took the place of the statue. I am uncertain as to what Twilight Sparkle did with it, though its fate does not intrigue me. I could not care less if she pulverized it. What was a statue of Nightmare Moon doing so close to a civilized place, anyway? Regardless, I spooked the children when they provided their candy offerings. They darted away, but when I saw them peeking around a bush close by, I knew for certain that they bore me no ill will. What truly lightened my heart, though, was the statement of the little piebald colt with the amusing accent, made upon my revoking of the ban on Nightmare Night. “You’re my favorite princess ever!” I could not find the words to thank him. So astonished was I to find myself adored in the eyes of the foals, that for a few seconds the well-oiled gears of my mind ceased to turn. It was as if the moonlight did not simply illuminate all it touched, but rather cast everything in a sheen of pale brilliance. They were only foals, but their love was, and is, much appreciated. That said, it is entirely out of the question to assume that a tear sparkled in my eye. Such a situation is surely impossible, I defend, for what is there to feel sorrow about? Much as I enjoyed their exhilarated terror, I felt more inclined to pass further time with Twilight Sparkle. She had been the pony to solve this problem, after all, and it would be an insult to repay her kindness by ignoring her entirely. Thus we lingered at the base where the statue once stood, laughing in an area where shadows had once gathered, while foals occasionally darted by with a delighted shriek. There is something symbolic about such an event, but the exact nature of this eludes me. We did not speak of much important. I do trust her, at least as far as one can trust a terrifying nemesis, but it is not enough to reveal the variety of schemes up my sleeves. After all, I can hardly do so when I am undesirous to unveil such matters to Sister Dearest herself. I heard somepony clear her throat, and found that none other than Pinkie Pie had approached. To my perplexion, she expressed no desire to cluck in my face, nor was she on the verge of screaming in that way I had so come to despise. Rather, her eyes were cast to the side in an sheepish manner I knew well, and she scuffed at the ground with a restless hoof. Her costume was missing. “Pinkie,” Twilight Sparkle said testily, “I don’t want to make you feel bad, but every time you’ve seen Luna tonight—” “I know.” Pinkie Pie’s childlike voice was not boisterous as before, but instead small like a foal hiding from a monster. “That’s why I came to say sorry.” I lifted an eyebrow. “Pray continue.” “I never meant to hurt your feelings by calling you evil. I mean, I do it to Fluttershy all the time, and she doesn’t mind. I figured, ‘Hay, if Princess Luna had ponies screaming at her before, she’d be fine with it again, right?’ I guess there’s a lot more difference between you and Black Snooty than I thought.” “If you refer to the relationship between myself and Nightmare Moon,” I replied, “it is a matter of delicate complexity. She and I are, in some ways, more alike than you are to your family. In some perverse way, I am almost glad that you reminded me how I still must work to redeem my image in the eyes of the ponies. I would, of course, thank you to remember that I am emphasizing ‘almost’ in this case, for I did not appreciate your behavior earlier.” “And we’re back to the sorry,” she said, looking at me. “At first I thought you were playing along by pretending to fake innocence and be even spookier for the foals. When I heard that you’d canceled Nightmare Night, after we’d had all our fun by yelling that you were gonna eat us … I felt like a balloon that kissed a needle. I never wanted you to feel unwelcome, and I definitely didn’t wanna make everypony in Equestria feel bad by hurting one of our favorite holidays.” Her ears pinned back. “That isn’t very Pinkie-like at all.” “Calm yourself,” I said, patting her head awkwardly. “You are not the only pony who has made mistakes tonight. I should have considered the possibility that my grand entrance would at best make ponies nervous, and my generous application of the Royal Canterlot Voice did not help matters. Occasionally I do not consider every angle of a plan before executing it, it is true. But the past is in the past, and Twilight Sparkle has taught me that even fear can be a form of love.” Her head tilted, allowing her ears to flop to the side. “Your philosophi-clutter could make more sense, but I’m glad you don’t still have hurt feelings!” She leaned forward on the tips of her hooves, and a grin lit her face. “Friends?” “Pinkie Pie,” I said, “after your admirable apology, I would be pleased to call you my friend.” She positively trembled with happiness. “Ooooh, this is super-duper fantastic! How long are you staying in Ponyville? Because I should throw you a real Pinkie Pie welcome party, since you were sick the first time and you’re on important all this Royal Canterlot business this time, but maybe I can steal your time before the end of this time and we’ll have a time to end all times!” I laughed. “I am afraid I will soon be required to return to Canterlot, as my extended absence would make Celestia nervous. Nevertheless, I would love to attend one of your parties at a later date. I am certain they are the epitome of fun.” “Perfect! That’s something to put in my Pinkie’s Ponyville Party Planner!” She pulled a notebook and pencil from her mane and scribbled in its depths. I was surprised enough by her unexpected action that I nearly missed the crescent moon shape she drew within, surrounded by doodles of hearts. “I’m gonna pull out all the stops for it.” “Your friend is unusual,” I confided in Twilight Sparkle once Pinkie Pie had merrily bounced off to rejoin the celebration. “Or I suppose I should say, our friend. It is strange to simply forgive her for her misconduct, yet I could not find it in myself to disregard her request.” “Pinkie has that effect on ponies.” Twilight Sparkle smiled. “She can be a little unusual at times … but then again, all six of us are pretty unusual.” “True, there are six of you,” I mused. “Aside from you and Pinkie Pie, I encountered Fluttershy and Applejack … Rainbow Dash provided that meddlesome stormcloud … so I believe the only one of you I have not met again is Rarity, if I remember correctly.” “She’s been pretty busy these last couple days. Apparently she usually does some extravagant costume or other, but after all those dresses she’s been making for Hoity Toity and his Canterlot show, she’s probably exhausted.” “A shame,” I said. “She has a lovely voice. Perhaps I will have the opportunity to speak with her for the upcoming Grand Galloping Gala. She seems the sort to enjoy the social intrigue one often finds at such events.” Twilight nodded. “Maybe even sooner than that. Her sister has a field trip to the palace gardens in a few days, and she might go along as a chaperone.” “Splendid!” I exclaimed. “I will look out for her, then. And will you be attending the Gala as well?” She replied in the affirmative, and we discussed the history of the event. I was intrigued and dismayed to learn that in the past thousand years it has degenerated in a show for the nobility to parade around each other. Alas! Gone are the days when anypony could appear there and make themselves known. It is the sort of stagnation Sister Dearest would tolerate. On the whole, this was an enjoyable night. But all must end, and now I sit in my chambers recounting these happenings. I shall retire for bed quite soon, as I have not had much sleep since waking up yesterday and therefore require rest. Nightmare Night is not objectionable in and of itself, I now realize. It requires effort on my part to step in and improve matters, which I think has been the case in Ponyville. Perhaps next year I might repeat this in another town, such as Trottingham? Though it will not quite be the same, for Twilight Sparkle and her friends will not be there. Truly I am beginning to understand more of how she holds such power. But such musing is not the occupation of the hour! Now I sleep, and with such sleep may I find the dreams of my subjects. I have become a princess who has spoken and laughed with her subjects, and it would be a shame to let such progress fade into obscurity.