//------------------------------// // IV - For Nightmare Night! // Story: The Night Mare's Nightmare Night Nightmare // by Corejo //------------------------------// The afternoon passed in a blur.  Preliminary forms and notifications had come and gone in a whirlwind, and the sun sloped toward the edge of the sky far faster than Luna would have hoped, against all usual desire.  The time to take her seat on the throne as Regent of the Night drew too near too soon.  She had much yet to prepare if she was to petition against the PBWAYFC in the morning.  But the sun sang no sorrows for her plight, and as it slipped beyond the furthest reaches of the world she withdrew from her plans to shoulder her nightly responsibilities. Luna sat upon her throne in the darkened silence.  She afforded herself an itch of the collar, her yellow sweater not one for comfort.  In her tradition, ‘days’ began at the stroke of night’s first hour, so that her holidays passed into the first morning light of the true day, Ugly Sweater Day no exception. Hers was an itchy thing, a present from Celestia upon her return.  Its little pink, smiling hearts and balloons were the first indication her sister hadn’t changed one bit in her thousand years away.  Insulting at first, Luna had come to understand it as an apology, a wish for things to return to the way they were.  So she wore it, once a year, itches and all. Night Eye, standing at the left foot of the throne, scratched an itch beneath his yellow-and-orange polka-dotted sweater.  At least she wasn’t the only uncomfortable one in the room.  That, though, was almost a fact by default. Predictably, the night was her lone charge in the lonelier hall, as nopony bothered appearing before her, instead electing for Celestia’s less stringent view on life and law.  So it behooved her to take advantage of the stillness.  Luna centered herself with a sigh, closing her eyes. And she dreamed. She was a beggar on a rainy Manehattan street.  She was a soldier sheathing his blade after battle.  A princess.  An athlete.  A mother. She swung through the tallest treetops with the nimblest of monkeys and swam the deepest depths of the ocean, where the bug-eyed and ripple-finned dwelled.  Laughter bubbled from her lungs in the wake of a friend’s unexpected belch.  She snoozed by the hearth, cuddled up in her favorite blanket.  A firefly alighted on her nose, and a million more lit up the expanse of meadow beyond her mind’s comprehension. She dreamed.  And it was with all of Equestria she drifted in sweetest slumber. She spread her wings wide, bent her head low.  The faintest trickle of magic she let slip into her mind, dribble its way down to her heart and into those of the ponies she cradled within her breast. It tasted like nectar as it took hold of their dreams, formed them to her bidding.  She became more within them, drawn out from the modest shells that bound her in forms both terrible and great, humble and beautiful. She became the blazing sun, the vociferous general, the howling wind through crag and grotto.  A whisper in the darkness, a quiet smile on the other pillow.  But all forms heeded the same voice: The Night is fading.  The little ones know.  Listen. And with that, her power faded.  She receded from her dream forms—infernos to candles, floods to trickles, all as they should be. Luna opened her eyes.  Still the throne room sat in silence.  The moon’s glow had disappeared from the stained glass across the hall, already low toward its resting place beyond the horizon as the slimmest trimmings of dawn’s purples and pinks encroached upon the sky. Dreams were captivating things, and even she held no control over the ebb and flow of time within them. She glanced down at the tri-folded paper beside her throne.  Tentatively, she picked it up.  Best get started on what she could. First thing’s first: the application.  She righted the page to better size up the maze of boxes and dotted lines.  She grimaced.  Such superfluous details.  Name and date she could understand, but age?  How exactly did that apply to her?  There weren’t even enough digits, come to think of it.  Why the box had four to begin with confused her to no end. She produced a quill from the folder and paused, its feather to her chin, brows steepled, before squeezing in her details.  She took care in rounding down.  Nopony would know. Second, title.  Easy.  Ponies of the Night.  Simple and to the point.  Moreover, it shouldn’t raise any fuss with the SPCCPANA. Next, social security number.  Luna rolled her eyes.  She scratched in the number ‘2.’  Honestly, none of this was really necessary.  Well, no.  It was, because the ponies seemed to love making simple concepts overly complicated.  But as far as true necessity went...  References?  Did she even need references?  Certainly, her name would be sufficient.  She put Celestia down anyway.  Hopefully they wouldn’t gripe over the immediacy of their relationship. Luna scratched and muttered her way through the remaining fields on the page, silently wishing with each and every box and line that she had conquered Equestria all those years ago and saved it from such a ludicrous state of affairs.  A poor taste in methodology, perhaps, but her heart was in the right place.  Nopony could disagree with that, except maybe Bushel Brow. It was as she punctuated her signature on the line titled Terms and Services that she heard a bump against the throne room door.  She glanced up, expectant. The doors swung open, and the first sounds Luna had heard since taking her seat filled the room.  In streamed ponies of every color, less for their coats and more for the ugly sweaters they had been festive enough to don. Frills of white and blue.  Checkers and stripes of all the rainbow.  Plaids and spirals intent on hypnosis.  A lopsided daffodil.  Family crests with block letters.  The sight would have made her smirk had she not known who they were.  Though light chatter bubbled among them, there remained a purposefulness to their stride, the way they looked at her, stared her down from afar.  The PBWAYFC—or whatever they called themselves after the agreement at Bushel Brow’s—seemed ever intent on destroying her Nightmare Night.  Bright and early.  Must have been how they organized so quickly to begin with. Rhetorical Rhetoric III walked among them.  Ever one for proper appearance, he busied himself with flattening his tie beneath his sweater vest, into which had been knitted a dashing portrait of himself.  He, at least, didn’t seem to hold the same fire in his eyes the others did.  Rather, his was the sparkle of pride, of a job well done. “Night Eye,” Luna said, her gaze still locked on the crowd.  The guard saluted her, climbing the steps to her throne.  “Take this to Bushel Brow immediately.  It is urgent.”  She trifolded the application paper, signed and sealed the outside, then floated it before him. “Who?” She afforded him a stare.  “Bushel Brow.  In the Laws and Corrections office.”  He still appeared confused.  “The one who hath the whole of the Everfree upon his brow?” He lit up in recognition.  “Oh!  Right away, Ma’am.”  He snatched the form, stowed it, and was off. Luna scanned the crowd for want of spotting Pea Body before rising to address them.  To her surprise, the mare was nowhere to be seen.  She stepped down from her throne. The crowd stopped as she descended, and Rhetorical came forward, an eager smile on his face. “Good morning, your Highness,” he said, bowing.  “A wonderful start to this fine day, don’t you think?” “Quite.”  She reserved for him no softer gaze than she had prepared for the rest of the lot.  It might have been her fault for not realizing the angle of his counter petition, but she still held him accountable for never clarifying. He wavered under her stare, tried smiling through it, and failed, glancing away.  A cough and a cinch of his tie.  “The PBFC are here to petition for the removal of Nightmare Night.”  He smiled, but blanked at her continued stare.  “Y-your Highness,” he added. Forever a spokespony.  She wondered why he bothered doing their dirty work when Pea Body seemed so eager to do it herself.  Gleaning whatever information she could would prove useful.  For effect, she feigned omniscience in the hardness of her face, hoping he would see it as a test of honesty.  “I know who they are, Rhetorical.  What I am curious to know is why you speak for them.  Is Pea Body not of the mind to stand for herself?”          He opened his mouth, wanting to speak but apparently having lost his words.  His ears fell back against his head.  “Ahh, yes."  He coughed into a hoof, recovering some semblance of himself.  "I’m here because I enjoy watching the closure of my work.  I find pleasure in seeing my labors come to fruition.”  He scratched the back of his neck.  “Pea Body, however… I was, um.  I was asked to speak in her stead.” “That does not answer the question.” He looked over his shoulder at the crowd, where many helpless ponies shrugged back at him.  He gave his own shrug toward Luna.  “Her whereabouts are unknown.  We don’t have any idea where she is.  We were hoping she would be here already with the city reps.” Certainly odd.  Yesterday, Pea Body had been more than early by morning’s standards.  Luna had half expected the mare to have barged into the throne room well before dawn, gloating up a storm.  But all had thankfully remained quiet until the crowd had entered. “I am sorry to say that she is not yet here, nor have any of the layland representatives arrived.  You are, however, welcome to—” A loud bump came from the side hall.  She glanced, curious what the noise might have been.  Some among the crowd had looked as well, so indeed it wasn’t simply her lack of sleep playing tricks on her.  The castle servants preferred the outer shortcuts and the kitchens to the hallway lining the throne room, and it was far too early for any other pony besides those present to be about the place. A plate clattered to the floor, again from the hallway.  Hooves took off into the silence.  She looked to Leather Wing beside her.  “See what is going on.” The guard rolled his shoulders, perhaps to settle an uncomfortable sweater tag, before starting forward, hoof at the hilt of his blade.  He hesitated at the door, his hoof resting on the handle, preparing himself for what might lie beyond.  He pushed it open, and immediately something metal crashed to the ground. “Hey!  Get back here!” he shouted, lunging through the door. Luna ran after him, through the doorway in a flash.  A suit of armor had been knocked over, all its pieces splayed out on the floor except the head.  Down the hall, she saw Leather Wing wrestling with a tiny pony in a suit of armor whose helmet was much too large. As she ran to catch up, the tiny one conked Leather Wing on the knee with a pointed stick.  “Ow!”  He dropped the pony with an ‘oof!’, and he clutched at his knee. The little armored pony bounced to its hooves.  “Take that, you scurvy dog!” came the most valiant Trottingham accent Luna had ever heard.  Stick gripped between his little teeth, he swung wildly at the air, the massive helmet shaking back and forth as if wishing it had never been knocked from its stand. “Why, you little...”  Leather Wing bopped him on the head with the flat of his sword. “Stay thy blade!”  Luna strode forward, gaze set on Leather Wing, the air darkening behind her with the power of Night. He stepped away, frightened, an accusing hoof pointed at Pipsqueak.  “He-he hit me first!”  Her gaze became a glare, darker than the blackness between stars. Dying plants withered less than he did at that moment.  “I’ll just—” a weak smile, eyes darting about “—go guard the throne again.”  He dashed past her in a rush of wind. Luna knelt beside her wobbly champion.  She steadied him with a hoof, and lifted up the over-sized visor to see a silly, cross-eyed smile on his tobiano face.  He shook it off. A salute and a triumphant smile.  “Pipsqueak the Partisan, at your service, m’lady!”  His ‘armor,’ she noticed, had been made from cardboard and duct tape. “And quite the partisan, indeed,” Luna said, smiling.  “But tell me, little Pipsqueak, why do I always find you skulking about after bed?  And why in Equestria are you in Canterlot?  How, even?” “Conductor Full Steam brought us on the midnight train.  We came to fight for Nightmare Night!”  Pipsqueak lifted his spear high.  “Just like you said!” Luna blanked.  “Fight?  We?” A guard shouted down the hall.  Around the corner popped another colt—no more than four years—dashing their way.  The bells of his green-and-red jester costume rang a high frenzy as he neared, and louder so when the red-sweatered guard snagged him by the hind leg.  He thrashed about in the air.  “Nightmare Night!  Nightmare Night!” he chanted in defiance. The guard looked thoroughly confused, holding the colt away from his face, more as if the sound hurt his ears than for avoiding his flailing hooves. Pipsqueak glared righteous fury and flipped down his visor.  “Nopony messes with Nightmare Night, you dirty swine!”  Pipsqueak rushed him, and the guard stared at him as a wolf might a charging rabbit.  “Have at thee!”  He poked the guard in the ribs with his stick. “Ow!”  The guard dropped the jester-colt, and the two made their escape past Luna. Luna watched them dash into the throne room with the most confused of expressions.  When she turned it to the guard, he looked just as perplexed.  She shrugged, and the two followed Pipsqueak into the uproar of the throne room. The first word that came to mind was ‘pandemonium.’  But Luna remembered Celestia’s constant nagging about archaic words and settled on a more modern ‘bedlam.’ Children.  Everywhere. Running around the pillars.  Clinging to the tapestries lining the walls.  In and out of the hallways running the length of the throne room.  Their costumes of giant fruits and monsters and nurses and gargoyles and all sorts of other things of both mare and magical origin danced a colorful chaos as they screamed and shouted over each other.  'Nightmare Night' made up the bulk of it, and were the only words Luna could pick out of the tangle.   The guards were having a field day of it, their own ‘costumes’ of minimal help in their attempts to round them up.   Polka-dots of green and blue.  Snowflakes and reindeer.  Cotton balls made to resemble marshmallows inside crocheted cups of steaming cocoa.  Even a striped turtleneck among one of the pegasus guards.  Not even the travelling circuses of Old Equestria could have put on a performance the likes of this.   Thankfully, the guards had the sense not to draw their weapons in such a situation.  But by the moon, they needed something—and the PBFC wasn’t of any help. The children had them outclassed.  Criss-crossing their paths, tripping their hooves, kicking the shins of those who had captured fellow foals, setting them loose again.  One guard staggered about, struggling against the tangle of a fallen tapestry, before smacking into the wall and falling over.  He laid still, apparently giving up on life.  A mime-filly hopped on top of him and roared her loudest roar—which was to say, more of a growl. What little of the Guard and PBFC that had managed to outdo the children simply had their hooves too full of them, unable to manage the numbers.  It was evident on their faces, like prey backed into a corner. Luna turned to the guard who had entered with her.  He had paled at the sight, and Luna already saw nightmares of unruly triplets back home flitting through his head.  “You’re excused,” she said in the most dignified tone she could manage. He smiled as if Hearth’s Warming had come early.  Quick as lightning, he took off before she could change her mind. Luna turned her attention back to the chaos around her.  The children still dashed and weaved every which way.  She watched as a pair of guards chasing two different colts collided and fell in a heap.  She winced.  That’d leave a mark. “So I thought I heard Philomena jumping up and down on my bed as I was out on my balcony raising the sun,” came Celestia’s voice from the hallway behind Luna.  She strode through the door, a worried eye taking in the scene around her, and in she towed a yellow filly dressed as a flapper girl—black forehoof stockings, feathered headband and all—intent on never letting go of her tail, face dragged flat against the floor.  “Needless to say, it seems the castle has been breached.”  There was something about her voice, the way it hovered flat rather than floated, that conveyed more than her incriminating stare. Luna cut in before she could make another witty comment.  “I assure you, sister, I am just as surprised as you are.”  Celestia’s stare became even more level.  “Truly!  It must have been the little Pipsqueak’s doing.” “Luna, this is no time for games.” “By the stars, sister, I had no hoof in this.” Celestia’s stare turned weary.  She let out a long sigh, lowering her head toward the floor.  “Well, whatever the truth is, Luna, at least it can’t get any worse than this.” A few of the children halted their romp and turned their little heads toward the door.  Luna followed their gazes, swivelling her ears at the faintest of noises.  Slowly, the noise grew—chanting, indecipherable through the doors. The adults noticed, too, their eyes turning, hearts dreading.  Drums thundered in the cavernous dark of their minds.  The children scattered in the stillness as the chant outside reached a rolling boil. A massive thud reverberated through the hall.  The door lurched as if beneath the force of a battering ram, but its weight held firm.  It settled back into place before another jarring slam pushed the door to the point of opening. The princesses exchanged glances.  Luna shrugged.  A roll of the eyes, and Celestia cast her magic about the door.  It swung open, and in cascaded a pile of goblins and ninjas, jack o’ lanterns and police officers, astronauts and zombies, who it appeared had stacked atop one another to push open the door with all their foalish strength.  The children gathered themselves to their hooves, and their chant back to the tops of their lungs. “Nightmare Night!  Nightmare Night!  Keep the season full of fright!” They marched into the hall, those inside parting to make way.  Behind the vanguard entered a column of foals carrying a pole over their shoulders, ropes winding around the middle like those about a mast. Hog-tied beneath the ropes, Luna noticed, was a pony who looked as though she couldn’t have dreamt a worse nightmare—Pea Body, whose eyes practically popped out of their sockets upon seeing her. The children stopped before the throne, dropped the pole, and scattered every which way, cheering and jumping off pots and steps and other things that children had no right jumping off. Celestia was the first to step forward.  Her horn shone golden, and the ropes about the terror-stricken pony fell away.  Before even shrugging off the limp coils of rope, Pea Body struggled backward, away from Luna, eyes fixed wide upon her. Somehow, the mare had found an even uglier sweater for the occasion—robin’s egg blue, with cherry-red candy buttons sewn along green stripes like Hearth’s Warming lights.  Though, her mane looked as if she had been dragged out of bed rather than of her own choosing.  Perhaps ugly sweaters were merely pajamas to her, Luna ventured. “Keep her away from me!” Pea Body shouted.  “That she-devil put them up to this!  She cursed them, I tell you!  Cursed them!”  She tripped over backward on a lump of rope.  A satisfying thud echoed off the walls. Luna stepped forward, amused.  “I did nothing of the sort.”  She curiously eyed a filly that scurried between her legs, out of reach of a pursuing guard and his skull-and-crossbones sweater.  “This is of the children’s own volition.” “Liar!  I saw you in my dreams!” “I’m afraid I must agree,” Rhetorical said, stepping forward.  “I saw you in my dreams as well, I did.” Luna could feel Celestia’s gaze on the nape of her neck.  Many times she had promised not to interfere too strongly with dreams.  Their wild nature lent to their unpredictability, and it became apparent that her magic had seeped into one she hadn’t intended. “Luna—” “We did not incite this riot, sister.”  She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm herself.  “That message was to the parents of the children and the parents alone.  I am no stranger to being cryptic.  No, I did not command these children to assail our walls, nor foalnap this one… however much I am enjoying it.”  She let slip a smile—with just enough teeth—at the one cowering before her. “That still doesn’t answer why I returned from my balcony to children jumping on my bed,” Celestia quipped.  She glanced at the filly playing with her tail as if it were a boa.  “Philomena didn’t take too well to them trying to fit inside her cage, either.” “I may,” Luna started, before Celestia could continue, “have an explanation for that.”  She looked about, hoping for a glimpse of her champion and his shining armor.  “Pipsqueak.” Pipsqueak poked his head above a crowd of foals gathered around the tapestry-tangled guard.  He galloped over, the visor of his helmet clanking up and down.  A salute knocked it askew. Celestia took the hint.  She bent her head to his level and allowed herself a warm smile, despite the filly having found a friend to play jump rope with her tail.  “My little Pipsqueak.  How are you this morning?” “Wonderful, princess.”  He relaxed his salute, fixing his helmet. “I’m glad to hear it.  But tell me, why exactly are you and all your friends here in Canterlot?” “Because we’re here to save Nightmare Night, just like Princess Luna said.”  He waggled his stick in the air at an invisible enemy. “I see.  And were those her words?” “Um...”  He put a hoof to his chin. “Did I not say to tell your parents to protest?” Luna guided. He blanked in realization.  “Oops.” Celestia looked between Luna and Pea Body.  “Well, there you have it.  Thank you, Pipsqueak.  Now run along with your friends.” “Yes, Ma’am!”  A final salute, and he was off to join the foals that had dogpiled on top of the tangled guard.  Which reminded Luna—they should probably do something about that. She stepped forward to intervene when a hoof tapped her on the flank.  She turned, expecting Celestia, but was surprised by the fuzzy mane of Bushel Brow.   She hadn’t noticed him among all the helter-skelter children, and his shirt-and-tie sweater—complete with pocket protector—only served as camouflage.  He thrust a tri-folded paper at her, wiggling his moustache and mumbling something she couldn’t hear. She took the paper in her magic, unfolding it.  It was her requisition for privileges to petition for party petitioning privileges application.  The ‘additional signatures’ section was circled in red.  Right.  She had forgotten that part. Luna opened her mouth to voice a question, but closed it.  Looking around, there were no parents available to sign.  None willing to, anyway.  The PBFC members nearby afforded glares that were probably threats to rip the paper into tiny bits.  She bit her lip. Bushel Brow harumphed, tapping his hoof in impatience.  She gave him a glance, unsure what to do.  Then it hit her.  Child’s play.  That very idea was what had gotten her to this point. Luna cleared her throat.  “Children.”  The chaos settled immediately, all eyes turned toward her.  “Do you wish to save Nightmare Night?” “Yeah!” they shouted. Luna smiled.  “Then gather ‘round.”  To Bushel Brow: “We will be needing a new requisition form, dear sir.” Bushel Brow snorted, the faintest trace of a smile evident behind his moustache.  He drew a folder from his saddlebags and rifled through it.  As the children circled around, he pulled out a clean requisition form. Luna took it, drawing her quill from its place beside the throne and filled in its fields.  All but title and signatures remaining, she paused, pondering a name befitting her little army.  Ponies of the Night no longer worked.  Children of the Night?  No, too obvious, unbecoming of their valor.  Guardians of Nightmare Night.  That had a nice ring to it.  She smiled, floating the paper and quill around to each and every foal. “Signing your name indicates your bravery in the face of adversity, your triumph over the forces conspiring to bring about the end of our most glorious season.”  Luna glanced about at the children, who stared back, clueless.  Even Celestia looked at her funny. “Err, thank you for your courage and willingness to save Nightmare Night.  I am honored to call each and every one of you champions of Equestria.”  The paper circled around to Bushel Brow, who scrutinized the myriad of scratch marks and squiggles that were the children’s signatures, nodded, and stowed it in his saddlebags.  Another nod toward Luna, and he hobbled his way out the door. “Y-you can’t be an official party.”  Pea Body looked around at the children.  “You haven’t elected any officials.” “Of course I have,” Luna said.  She gazed upon the children around her.  “Sherry Surprise as treasurer.”  The little filly, still wearing her bat mask, lit up at her mention.  “Pipsqueak as vice president.”  An ‘oh, boy!’ sounded from somewhere in the crowd.  “And myself as president and speaker.  It’s all in the paper we signed.” Pea Body appeared no less than flabbergasted.  “But you… but they...”  She took a moment to gather herself.  Slowly, she found her signature scowl, and she laid it dead on Luna.  “I don’t care what you have done to poison the minds of these children.  Candy and frights have no place in civil society, and we in the PBFC will not be bullied by the likes of you or these unruly mongrels.”   Every child stopped what they were doing, and Luna sensed a tension gathering in the air, a turning of bodies toward the one that so readily defamed their favorite holiday. “If anything,” Pea Body continued, “this has only affirmed the need for reforming this... festivity and others like it.  I will stop at nothing to see each and every last bit of disease-inducing trash removed from this horrible perversion of the word ‘celebration.’”  Her glare bounced between each and every one of the faces before her, and slowly, realization dawned. “Chaaarge!” Pipsqueak yelled, and the whole of the child army was upon her like a tsunami upon the beach, her flailing hooves useless against the force of the tide.  The mass of costumes crashed overtop and swallowed her, again taking up their chant.  “Nightmare Night!  Nightmare Night!  Keep the season full of fright!” Luna smirked at the renewed chaos.  Euphoric at best, cathartic at worst.  Like waiting on the eve of a supernova, and enjoying the splendor of its faraway blaze—a glorious death into new life. She could feel Celestia glaring at her, counting down the seconds until it was acceptable to reprimand her for remaining idle.  As sharp as those words would be, she more than happily let the clock run its course. “I hope there is a reason better than revenge for why you haven’t stopped this yet, Luna.” Luna took a deep breath, savoring every last drop.  “It pays to pay attention, sister.” “Luna.” A bit more.  “Could we not perhaps let her learn that lesson a little first?” “Luna.” Luna rolled her eyes.  “If you insist.”  She stepped forward.  “Children, that is enough.” The shouts died down, and one by one their little eyes turned toward her.  They backed away, the dogpile dissipating, a freshly hogtied Pea Body staring frazzled into space.  She came to enough to notice Luna lording over her. “L-let me go!  This isn’t fair!” “‘Not fair?’” Luna said.  “‘Not fair’ is making a decision on behalf of but without the consent of the affected party.  ‘Not fair’ is overreacting and attempting to destroy a time-honored tradition on your personal crusade for what is ‘right.’”  She narrowed her eyes.  “‘Not fair’ is neglecting—nay, refusing to voice your concerns with me before treading on hooves best left untread.” Any ounce of fighting spirit fled in that instant.  Given how her lip quivered, Luna wouldn’t have been surprised had she soiled herself.   “Perhaps, if I may, your highness...”  Rhetorical stepped out from the crowd of on-looking adults trembling in the corner.  He made nervous glances at the children he passed by.  “May I bring the argument back to its original point?  Come full-circle, if you will.  I am for maintaining a proper dialogue, after all.  Why—” “The argument pertains very much to myself, Rhetorical,” Luna said.  “I am The Night, and was once the nightmare for which this was all constructed.”  She straightened herself for effect.  “I am the argument.” Rhetorical nodded away her statement.  “Yes, but—”   “There is more to Nightmare Night than just candy.  Surely a well-renowned tautologist such as yourself could plumb its origins.  I fight for that and everything derived from it.” He held his mouth open, then closed it.  While he wrapped his head around her words, she noticed Celestia out the corner of her eye.  Sternly she stared, and Luna knew it to be a reminder. “But if you insist on returning to her original argument…”  She turned back to Pea Body, making no attempt to hide her disdain.  “The shoe is on the other hoof now, isn’t it?”  The mare looked at her like she was the Grim Reaper come to drag her down to Tartarus.  However much Luna would have loved to do so, she had something better in mind.   “Do not misunderstand me, Pea Body, when We say this: thou art by far the rudest, most insulting pony We have ever met.  Everfree tree slugs have better manners, and meeting one would be far less repulsive.” Pea Body had turned white as snow, and she trembled ever so slightly.  Out the corner of her eye, Luna saw Celestia glaring hard at her. “She needed to hear it, sister.”  Luna said.  She continued before Celestia could speak.  “But hear this as well: there is no reason to target Nightmare Night as the culprit of your children’s health issues.  You as a parent are in charge of all aspects of your children’s lives.  That includes teaching them risk and reward, friendship and self-expression, the sacredness of life.  Is it not your responsibility to see to that?” Pea Body’s mouth hung open, seemingly no longer out of fear, but for lack of words.  “I… I just wanted what’s best for my kids.”  She hid her face.  “I don’t want them to go through the things I did.” Luna lowered her head to Pea Body’s, a tender hoof drawing her gaze back to her own.  “Your heart is in the right place.”  She offered a smile, reminiscent of days long past.  “But sometimes the paths we walk to reach them only lead us further away.”  A glow of her horn, and the ropes unravelled from her hooves. She helped the mare regain her hooves, allowing a smile to grace her lips.  And for the first time, Pea Body smiled back.  Though weakly, it was a smile nonetheless. Rhetorical cleared his throat, but Luna held up a hoof at him.  “You already said it once, Rhetorical.”  To Pea Body: “You desire better health for our children.  I desire the preservation of Nightmare Night and all its symbolism.  Those two ideals do conflict, but perhaps there remains a way that we can come to an agreement.”  She shifted her gaze to Rhetorical just long enough for it to be apparent.  He blushed, but seemed otherwise afraid of showing his embarrassment. Pea Body rubbed a leg.  “So, what do you suggest?” Luna detected a slight shrug of the shoulders—a mare truly without ideas.  “Perhaps shortening the trick-or-treating hours?  More funding for healthcare and education?” Pea Body paused as if surprised.  “Those sound like good places to start.”  She smiled, invigorated.  “And maybe pushing for sugar-free bubblegum?” The mare’s newfound enthusiasm brought a grin to her face.  “We can discuss details tomorrow.” Luna glanced past Pea Body to the adults still backed into the corner.  A hoofful had the courage to break their gazes from the foals and stare intently at her.   “What should I tell them?”  Pea Body had also looked.  Apprehension pulled her features taut. “Tell them the truth.  The meaning and symbolism of Nightmare Night, our plans to compromise.  You convinced them to loathe it.  I do believe you can convince them otherwise.”  She winked, a courage-inspiring trick she had learned from Celestia. Pea Body looked down, at her hooves.  Slowly, she nodded.  Another smile.  “Tomorrow.” “Tomorrow.” They shook hooves. Peabody turned, taking care to step around the children whose patience had run dry and had taken to ‘tag’ and other foalish games.  Though knocked down a peg, Luna had no doubt in her mind Pea Body would come out on top. “So,” Luna said, turning her attention to Celestia.  “Is this ‘a clear and appropriate resolution to a defined problem,’ sister?  And more importantly...”  She raised a brow, the slightest smirk on her lips.  “Was it worth it?” Celestia glanced about the tattered and battered throne room, eyes distant, ears flat.  There appeared an answer on the tip of her tongue, but whatever it might have been, she withheld it.  She sighed, defeated.  “I think we both know the answer to that, Luna…” Yes.  Yes they did.  Luna gave Rhetorical and Pea Body across the room a quick glance, then back to Celestia.  “It has been wonderful chatting with you all.  But if you’ll excuse me, I have two days of sleep to catch up on.” “I’ll be sure to wear my ear plugs,” Celestia groaned, still surveying in disbelief the consequences of her sweet tooth, shaking her head in a ‘never again’ manner. Luna laughed, turning to leave.  Through the door, down the hall.  All was quiet, finally, and she listened to the ringing silence in her ears.  A glorious sound it was, one that could be bested only by the nightsong of insects.   It followed her upstairs to her chamber.  The drawn curtains glowed about their edges like miniature solar eclipses, and the silk draped about her four-poster bed twinkled a nighttime sky of its own, welcoming her back after far too long apart. She slumped into the soft plush of her mattress, sighing, content.  Although she had dreamed through the night alongside Equestria, she had not rested.  Dreams were merely another state of consciousness for her. As she lay in the darkened solitude of her chamber, she relaxed her mind.  Tomorrow would bring another night busy with safeguarding Nightmare Night, but the worst had passed.  She had earned her rest. And so she heaved a final sigh and let herself slip into the deep, deep darkness of slumber’s loving nothingness.