//------------------------------// // Chapter 11 // Story: Waning and Waxing // by Calliope Pony //------------------------------// A guard enters the room and executes a quick bow. “Excuse me, Your Highness, but Princess Celestia wishes you to come to the stage now.” She expects me to be at her beck and call, does she? She’s so arrogant. But I will go. This will be a chance for me to show the ponies the real Princess of the Night, so they can finally begin to show me the proper respect. I make my way out into the courtyard. The crowd is babbling and chattering. They don’t even look up when I step outside. They should fall silent and bow to me. They’ll learn soon. They’ll learn what it means to snub the Moon Princess. As I approach the stage I hear snippets of their conversations: “This is so exciting!” “I can’t believe we all get to watch Princess Celestia raise the sun!” “I wish the sun was already up. It was so creepy coming through the forest in the dark.” “I know, right? It was so dark and cold, brr!” “It’s going to be so wonderful to see Princess Celestia up close as she brings the day.” “Can you believe it’s the longest day of the year?” “I can’t wait to watch the sunrise!” “This festival was such a great idea!” There was a time when these comments and the lack of appreciation for the night would have sent me flying away, crying like a foal. Now they just serve to fuel my rage. These foolish little ponies are so blind they can’t even see the splendor of the night around them! They just stand around, complaining about the dark and whining for their precious sun. Celestia and I mount the stage from opposite ends and approach the center, just as she planned. The crowd stops talking and begins cheering. From the ramparts, guards trumpet a fanfare. Celestia and I stand near each other in front of a pillar supporting a golden sun. She’s smiling and waving; I’m standing still and silent. At last, the guards finish their fanfare, and the crowd quiets, looking up expectantly. All these stupid little ponies are staring at us, waiting for me to end the night. Look at them! They’ve never respected me, never cared for me at all. Why should I give them what they want? The seconds drag on. Celestia gives me a sideways glance. The ponies start to shift from hoof to hoof and look around for some explanation of the delay. At last Celestia whispers, “Luna, it’s time to lower the moon.” I will not do as she orders! It’s time these ponies, all of them, learned to appreciate me! “Luna, it’s ti-“ “No.” “Luna, what are you-“ “NO! WE SHALL NOT LOWER THE MOON NOR END THE NIGHT! THE PONIES OF THIS LAND HAVE NEGLECTED AND ABUSED US FOR THE LAST TIME! ALL THESE YEARS, NAY, ALL THESE LONG DECADES AND CENTURIES HAVE PONIES FLOCKED TO THE SUN’S LIGHT AND SHUNNED THE MOON! THOU HAST BEEN THE RECIPIENT OF UNENDING RESPECT AND ADORATION WHILE WE HAVE BEEN CAST ASIDE AND UNCARED FOR! THE DENIZENS OF THE LAND CARE NOT FOR THE NIGHT NOR THE PRINCESS OF THE NIGHT! “NO MORE! WE HAVE HAD ENOUGH! IF THE PONIES OF THIS LAND CANNOT APPRECIATE US THEN LET THEM LEARN TO! LET THIS NIGHT BE UNENDING!” And with that, I teleport away.