Luna regretted waking up.
She couldn’t even open her eyes at first because they were caked with sleep sand and dried tears. When she finally managed to pry them open they were seared by the sunlight streaming through her window and when she tried to turn her face away her neck screamed with soreness. She tried to move her limbs and though she could command them they dragged as if she were moving through water.
Good Faust, what is happening to me--
Oh no…
Luna groaned and then winced at how the sound reverberated in her head, now pulsing with pain.
And Celestia does this for fun? What is wrong with her? I swear I’ll never touch wine again as long as I live.
She reached out with her magic, which was difficult since her achiness made it hard to focus, and pulled a pillow over her face. With the sunlight blocked the pain in her skull dimmed slightly but it did nothing to help the rest of her body.
Oh Bor, I wish I was dead. I never want to move again.
“Luna?” Cadence’s voice wasn’t loud at all but it was still like a hammer to Luna’s head. “Are you awake now?”
Luna simply moaned in reply.
She thought she heard Cadence walking away but wasn’t sure and didn’t really care. It was only when she heard heavier hoof falls and felt the pillow being tugged from her face that she reacted.
“Noooooooo,” she wailed.
“Luna let me just look at you,” Mama’s voice came, very low and soft.
Reluctantly and whimpering, Luna allowed her to remove the pillow. She flinched as the sunlight struck her face again, glowing through her eyelids.
“Open your eyes, beloved.”
Luna thought she might just start crying. “It hurts.”
The sunlight vanished and she felt Mama’s breath fanning her face, she must have been leaning over Luna now. “What does, beloved?”
“Everything.”
“Can you move?”
Luna lifted her right leg in response.
“What hurts most?” Mama asked.
“My head.”
“Do you feel like you’re going to be sick?”
“No.”
Mama must have pulled away because the light lashed Luna’s face again. Luna grabbed the pillow with both hooves and pulled it back over her face.
“You have a hangover,” Mama said. “I’ll have the cook prepare something to soothe your head.”
Luna mumbled something and Mama said, “What?”
“Ask Celestia.” Celestia had a slew of concoctions she ingested and acts she performed to dispel her hangovers. Luna had once found her soaking in a bathtub full of warm milk, her body smeared with mashed rowan fruit and a sack over her face. When Luna asked if it helped, she had sighed: “No.”
“Alright,” Mama said but something in her tone told Luna she wasn’t going to consult her other daughter.
Luna heard her walk out and shut the door behind her.
“Can I get you anything?” Cadence asked. Luna hadn’t even remembered her coming back in.
A swift death, she thought but just said, “No.”
“If you do need anything just ask me, okay?”
“I will.”
She heard Cadence clambering onto her own bed and start talking softly to her stuffed toy, Richard.
Stuffed toy...
Suddenly, Luna shot up in bed, the pillow flying off her face. Her skull roared with pain and she almost fell over from a wave of dizziness but she forced her head to turn, first left then right, her eyes straining through the blurred double vision.
“Luna?” Cadence said, sounding wary.
“My dolls,” Luna said. “Where are my dolls?”
“You mean those up there?” Cadence motioned to the shelf above Luna’s bed.
Luna whirled around, almost tipping off her bed again from loss of balance, and saw her ten dolls lined up on the shelf.
These dreams are getting far too vivid. I could have sworn on my soul that I--
She frowned and drew closer to the dolls. After a moment she said, “Who put them here?”
“Didn’t you?” Cadence asked, now sounding genuinely concerned.
“No. They’re out of order.” She pointed at each doll in turn. “First comes blue, then orange, then red--”
“Maybe Mama put them back.”
“But they…” Luna trailed off. She stepped off the bed, having to pause to let her head stop swimming, and then staggered over to the roped cord that hung by her door. She magically yanked it as Cadence asked, “Do you need my help?”
“I need Mama,” Luna said.
A young serving mare entered the room within a few minutes and was sent to fetch Mama. As soon as she was gone, Luna had to go and sit down at her desk because she was so lightheaded she thought she might collapse. When she sat down, she noticed the page she had torn last night was lying on her desk, whole and untorn, and the spell she had been unable to compete written out.
“What the…” She levitated the paper before her face and kept rubbing her eyes with her hooves until her eyes began to ache.
I did not do this. I couldn’t figure this spell out for the life of me.
The door opened and Luna turned to see her mother entering the room.
“What is it?” Mama said. “I was getting some tea for your head.”
“Did you fix my dolls?” Luna asked.
Mama stared at her for a moment, then shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“They were broken, all of them. Now they’re fixed.”
“They were fine when I came in to check on you last night,” Mama said.
Luna then levitated the paper towards her mother. “Did you write this?”
“No.”
Luna dropped the page back on her desk and tried to stand up, falling back immediately into her seat as the room began to spiral. Mama trotted quickly to her side.
“You need to lie down, Luna,” she said.
Luna’s head felt like an anvil on her neck and she had to strain to force the words to come coherently out of her mouth, “Did Majere fix my dolls?”
“He hasn’t been in here.”
Luna pressed her hooves to her temples. “Then how…?”
“Luna you need to lie down right now.”
She had Luna stand to her hooves and helped her back to her bed. Luna crumpled onto her bed and Mama pulled the covers over her.
“Just rest,” Mama crooned. “We’ll talk about your dolls later, beloved.”
But they were broken. I broke them.
***
“Why did you break me?”
The doll with the golden hair and clothed in ruby, sapphire and pearl stood before her, grown to Luna’s size. Her black button eyes reflected Luna’s and the doll’s eyes mirrored in Luna’s own reflection, back and forth for infinity.
“Why did you break me?” the doll asked again.
“I was angry,” Luna answered but her voice sounded distant as if coming up from a deep well.
“But why with me?”
“Because you are beautiful and regal, and I am not.”
The doll’s eyes glistened but Luna could not tell if the tears were in her eyes or from the doll’s, as their reflections blurred and fused into an indistinguishable pool.
“Did you think taking what I had would give it unto you?”
Luna had to drag her answer out, as if it it were weighed down by hooks and stones. “No.”
“Then what did breaking me gain?”
“Vengeance.” That answer came out quick as if it had been crouching behind her teeth waiting to spring.
At her words, rips began to break out over the doll’s body, the seams unravelling and severing. The cloth that made up her skin peeled back and now before her stood Celestia, except her eyes were the same hollow black buttons.
When she spoke it wasn’t Celestia’s voice, “All love a smiling doll, but a frowning one is thrown out.”
Her black eyes widened and Luna saw herself or perhaps it was her reflection (but weren’t they one and the same?) being stretched out like a ribbon and drawn in, in, in, into the fathomlessness.
***
Luna was grateful to wake this time. The dream was like a sour taste that lingered in her mind and made her feel as ill, if not more, than her hangover had.
But when she sat up and didn’t feel dizzy or nauseous she thought, Alright, that’s a lie. This is preferable to a hangover.
She glanced around her room and saw that the sunlight now was bronzed and muted, meaning the sun was now setting.
Good Faust, I have been in bed all day. How much of that was spent in my dream? Did I wake because of my dream? How can you even tell how long a dream lasts or when it happens in your sleep?
Luna shook her head; she actually didn’t care right now, she just needed to get out of the room. All of a sudden it felt bizarrely small, as if all the walls and the floor and ceiling had inched closer together while she slept. That reminded her of a story where an evil mage locked a lover who scorned him into a room with walls lined with spikes and caused it to slowly close until it skewered her.
With that thought Luna almost leapt out of bed, nearly falling right on her face because she was still tangled in her covers. She glanced at the shelf of her dolls again; they were still out of order but also still in one piece.
Think Luna, think. Your imagination is getting far too potent, there is an obvious explanation for this. Somepony simply came in and fixed your dolls.
But what about the spell…? Majere, it had to be Majere. But he never would have come to the room without Mama knowing.
Stop it. It doesn’t matter right now and you’re still too unwell to think clearly.
She started for the door but hesitated and turned to the door that lead to Celestia’s room. She didn’t really want to recall last night, but when she did compel herself to she had to admit that it was Celestia who had garnered their father’s wrath. Her relationship with Discord had been exposed and then she had been banished from the festivities, even though she had been the one to assist Luna.
Luna began to feel guilt twist in her stomach. She had told of Celestia’s private affairs to Sunset, the sister who had never treated her with any love or respect, yet only after a few mouthfuls of wine Luna had considered her a friend over Celestia, who had never done anything willful to harm her and had since their childhood defended her from Sunset’s tyranny.
Luna’s face was beginning to burn with shame despite being utterly alone in her room. I’m such a fool.
She immediately walked over to the door to Celestia room, determined to apologize to her sister. She was already fashioning her apology, full of pleas and tears, when she wrenched the door knob. The door stuck and Luna had to try again before she realized it was locked.
Luna frowned. This door was never locked, the four sisters were forever rushing in and out of one another’s rooms to borrow clothes, hair brushes and hairpins, makeup and toys.
Luna knocked on the door. “Celestia?” she said.
There was no answer.
She’s probably up and about, it’s so late.
Just at that moment she heard hoofsteps from the other side of the door. She pressed her ear against the door.
“Celestia?” she called again.
Maybe she’s angry with me. After all I got Papa angry with her.
The hoofsteps drew near to the door and then stopped, but the door was not unlocked.
Oh good Faust, I hope it isn’t Sunset--I never want to look at her face again.
Suddenly a piece of paper slipped from underneath the door. Luna levitated it to her face and read Celestia’s scrawled writing: Papa says I can’t speak to any of you for a week. I can’t leave the room either.
Luna now was very glad for the door between them, her shame was so great now she didn’t know if she could have looked Celestia in the eye. She considered just walking away but felt that would be cowardly, she was here to apologize and she would. At least she wouldn’t have to face her sister as she spoke, that might make it easier.
“Celestia, I’m so sorry for everything I did last night,” Luna began, already feeling a lump rising in her throat from embarrassment and regret. “I’m sorry I told Sunset about Discord, I’m sorry I called you a nag and a hussy and a harlot, I’m sorry Papa is angry with you when it’s all my fault.”
She had imagined a far finer and more eloquent speech but she had forgotten the words when she started speaking. She had started to cry and had to stop for a moment to swallow. Now the silence on the other side of the door felt damning, condemning. Now she wished she could see Celestia’s face and know how she was taking this pathetic apology.
“I’ll do anything if you’ll only forgive me,” she said. After a moment, she added quickly before she lost her nerve, “I’m going to tell Papa Sunset was the one who got me drunk. And I’ll tell him I knew about Discord for some time but didn’t tell Mama.”
Just the thought of confessing the latter point to her father made her feel ill; she could already imagine his face growing dark and his voice coming out cold and demanding, how could one daughter be threatening her honor with some strange male and the other say nothing about it?
Another piece of paper popped out from under the door. After Luna had levitated it and rubbed the dampness out of her eyes, she read: Don’t do that. There’s no point in you being punished for my mistakes. Just tell him about Sunset, after all it was you who was wronged by that.
As if an afterthought, another paper came slipping out: You’d better go now, Papa said no one is to speak with me.
Luna thought of Celestia, so sociable and talkative, who hated silence and isolation as much as Luna herself craved it, and she felt she couldn’t leave. If the situation had been reversed, Celestia would have stayed and spent hours entertaining her. Luna was always stuck by her sister’s paradox; she could be so astonishingly selfish and yet in the same instant selfless to the point of martyrdom, and never seemed capable of differentiating the actions.
On the other hoof, Papa was not one to be defied. He actually rarely was the one to punish them, considering how consumed he had always been first with his father and now with the kingdom, but when he did his punishments were absolute and nonnegotiable.
Luna chewed her bottom lip, and then slowly lifted her hoof, rapping it in a deliberate rhythm against the door.
I wonder if Celestia even remembers this; we haven’t used this code since before Little Uncle died.
Then a series of sharp knocks came in response through the door.
I remember.
Luna felt a sigh of relief escape her lips. And something else, nostalgia perhaps?
She lifted her hoof and knocked.
We’re not speaking, so Papa shouldn’t mind.
Celestia replied: You’re so sneaky. I’m impressed.
After a pause, she added: When this is over, I'll teach you to drink. So this won't happen again.
Luna never wanted to touch liquor again but she knew Celestia was only trying to be kind.
Thank you.
A thought struck her and she knocked out the question: Did you fix my dolls?
What?
Did you fix my dolls?
Your princesses? Did they break?
Well there was her answer.
Nevermind, Luna said.
Luna and Celestia spent around a half hour conversing in this manner, until Celestia finally said she was tired and going to bed early. Luna wondered how tired she could be having been locked in a room all day, but then thought perhaps she had been crying most of it. When Celestia truly cried (as opposed to false tears she used to milk sympathy) she tended to cry for so long and so profusely she had to lie down to recover.
Luna actually felt acutely disappointed; she couldn’t remember the last time she had a wholly enjoyable communication with Celestia. And the knocking code had brought back memories from their childhood, before Cadence was born and when Sunset was still the brazen bully who shunned their company unless she could control it.
They had invented the code specifically to circumvent Sunset’s tyranny and to mock her without threat of reprisal, first just little sharp raps to signify words like nag and eventually longer, complex patterns to hold entire conversations. They had never given the code to anypony else, not even Mama, though Sunset after realizing what they were doing attempted to torment them into confessing.
Luna recalled feeling closest to Celestia in those days, it had been so pronounced that they had been confused for twins by strangers. In fact, Luna’s birth had followed so quickly after Celestia's that Grandmama had called them Pleiades Daughters. Pleiades was a constellation wherein two stars in particular appeared like they were one great star unless examined with a telescope or very keen eyes.
A long time ago, Luna had read, it was required by all military recruits to be able to see both stars, to ensure their sharp eyesight. What Luna remembered most about the stars is Majere telling her that despite how close they looked there were actually millions of miles between them and it was only their distance that made them look so closely pressed. Luna used to spend hours staring at them through her telescope, trying in her mind's eye to fit the millions of miles into the infinitesimal space between.
Her and Celestia’s closeness seemed strange to Luna now, from the distance of years; despite their close birth, Celestia and Luna had always quite polarized in their personalities. For example, Celestia began speaking at the age of two but Luna did not speak even a word until she was almost four.
She remembered their parents had been exceedingly concerned about this, and meant to consult the court physician or Majere, but Grandpapa had told them, "The little cheat doesn't speak for she has no need, she lets the bright one make all the demands for her. Separate them and this darkling will be forced to speak."
Mama was against it but Papa saw reason in it and so Celestia and Luna were separated.
It went very poorly.
Celestia threw such a tantrum, Luna later heard, she did nothing but scream and throw herself on the ground until she was exhausted. Luna’s reaction was more subdued; she sat in the corner of their nursery and cried quietly.
After two hours, Mama had enough. She brought Celestia back to the nursery. When she came through the door, Celestia sprawled out wearily on her back supported between her wings, Luna leapt up from her place and cried: "Tia!"
And that was her first word.
When Grandpapa was told, he said, "Don't be so happy, that darkling has years worth of thoughts stuffed in her head. Now you've opened the floodgates."
Celestia’s name was my first word, Luna thought, finally walking away from the door dividing their rooms. She was my first friend. She walked first, talked first. She’ll come of age first, marry first, have children first. Sunset is the eldest, but somehow it’s Celestia who will always be first.
For the first time, it didn’t seem to bother her so much. Perhaps it was the events of yesterday and today, but she felt if she had to choose she supposed better attentive and amiable Celestia, than wicked and cruel Sunset.
Or morose and temperamental Luna.
***
Luna stood before the double doors of her parents’ room, suddenly feeling very resistant to her mission.
When she was little, her parents’ room had been across from the children's; but after her grandparents death they had moved to the royal bedroom.
The wooden doors were massive, three times the height of her father, and carved with the images of Faust and her husband, Wotan, and Borr and his second wife, Frigg. Luna recalled she had been afraid of these carvings as a child because their eyes were precious gems driven into the wood so they gave the impression of staring into every corner and every face directly. This thought did little to calm her as she tentatively raised her hoof to knock.
Remember poor Celestia and wicked Sunset. Think of them and knock.
She gave the wood two quick raps and waited anxiously.
The right door opened and Luna was relieved to see her mother standing there, looking surprised.
“Are you well, best beloved? Does your stomach still hurt?”
“I’m fine, Mama,” Luna said. “I...I’ve come to speak to Papa.”
Mama seemed extraordinarily pleased by this and immediately hurried Luna in. The room was painted in varying hues of gold, which was the Borrson royal color, and hung with rich tapestries that depicted great feats and events of their family. Luna remembered that her mother had brought her here once to show how many of the tapestries’ events she could recognize and recount to Grandmama.
Papa was seated at a large desk, leaning over a pile of papers, a quill pen suspended in the air before him.
“Odin,” Mama said in a bright yet persuasive voice. “Luna’s here to speak to you.”
Papa turned to look them, his face lined with exhaustion. The golden patch over his injured eye gleamed in the light of the candles set in the wall over his desk and the scar running from his temple to his cheekbone looked almost purely white in the waxy light. Mama nudged Luna right up to her father so she could see how red-rimmed and dull his eyes were. She was now wishing she had waited a little longer to come here.
“How are you feeling Luna?” Papa asked, his voice slow as if he had to focus to speak.
“Better, Papa,” she said.
“Did you rest well?”
“Yes, Papa.”
There was a pause, Papa staring at her yet his eye didn’t seem to be seeing her and Luna wondering how he could look so aged, Papa was young by Alicorn standards but he looked haggard up close.
“Did you have something in particular you wanted to tell your father?” Mama said, looking at Luna expectantly.
Luna had no idea how to say this and she was beginning to rethink her decision. After all, Celestia was being punished for her inappropriate relations with Discord, not because Papa assumed she was behind Luna’s public humiliation. And Sunset had a history of exacting vengeance when her cruelties were exposed; one time Luna had told Mama how her older sister had called her names and Sunset took her favorite storybook and threw it into the fireplace.
“Luna, I’m quite occupied at the moment so unless you have something immediate to speak with me about…” Papa said but Mama cut him off with a scathing glare.
“It wasn’t Celestia’s fault.” The words burst out of Luna before she had time to check them.
Well, damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
Papa blinked slowly and touched his temple with the tip of his wing. “What?”
“It wasn’t her fault I was drunk,” Luna said more slowly.
Papa nodded. “So she said.”
“It was Sunset. She got me drunk.”
Now Papa’s eye seemed to focus and grow a little sharper. “Excuse me?” He said and now his voice had an edge to it.
Luna swallowed. “Sunset, who must have known that it was my first permitted drink, kept having my glass refilled and encouraging me to drink. And then she questioned me about how things had gone about the house since she had been gone and when I told her of Celestia’s actions with Discord, which I assumed was in confidence, she immediately left to tell you.”
Papa was silent for a moment then said deliberately, “So what you seem to be implying is that your sister purposely inebriated you with the intent of using any information she gathered against your sister?”
Papa’s tone was reminding Luna of a judge presiding over an execution but she still answered, “Yes.”
Papa’s expression grew very dark and Mama said from her place besides Luna, “Did I not tell you? I know my own daughters.”
Papa stood up so suddenly Luna nearly jumped out of her skin and strode over to the servant’s chord which he yanked violently. When a serving stallion appeared he ordered, “Bring the heir to me.”
Luna stood awkwardly in her place, glancing at her mother in hopes she might tell her to leave but Mama was watching Papa, who stood staring at the door and didn’t move until Sunset arrived.
Upon entering the room Sunset greeted him with a confident, “You summoned me, Papa?”
But her expression shifted when she saw his face and before she could say another word, he bore down on her and demanded with something almost akin to ferocity, “Did you get your sister drunk?”
Sunset stared at him and Luna wasn’t sure if the astonishment on her face was from confusion or fear. “What?”
Papa leaned down so his eyes were on level with Sunset’s; Luna noted for the first time that Sunset was actually rather short of stature for an Alicorn, Celestia was quite a few inches taller than her.
“Maybe I spoke too quickly for your mind to grasp my meaning,” Papa said and now his voice was deathly cold. “Let me repeat my words again and slower so you might comprehend: did you purposely get Luna drunk last night? Answer only yes or no.”
There was a terrible pause where Sunet stared at Papa with a look of almost terror, and Luna could see her eyes twitching as if her mind were tumbling over itself to find some kind of escape in those impossible narrow margins he had given her.
But finally, she spoke, very quietly and slowly: “Yes.”
For a split second Papa’s good eye seemed to flash with some kind of white, wild fire and Luna felt her breath catch in her throat. She thought of Grandpapa and his sceptre coming down across Papa’s face, and wondering if Sunset, the only one of them who had witnessed it, was recalling the scene herself.
But instead the look passed and was replaced with an icness that seeped into his voice: “Did you ask her questions to gather unfavorable information about Celestia?”
“Yes,” Sunset said, her own voice sounding as if it were struggling to maintain an even tone.
“Did you then come and report the matter of the creature Discord to me with the express purpose of putting your sister out of grace with me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” When Sunset didn’t reply right away he hissed: “Answer me, Sunset.”
“Because Celestia is disrespectful towards me and would have done the same and done it first if given the chance.” Sunset spoke the words quickly, as if trying to rush them out as a blade was plummeting towards her neck.
“That’s all?” Papa sounded scandalized. “You haven’t even seen your sister in three years, what could she have done in one evening to convince you of this?”
“Celestia has always hated me and tried to usurp my place!” Sunset all but shouted, seeming to ascribed to the Damned if you do, damned if you don’t philosophy, as Luna recalled she had a few moments ago. Before Papa could respond Sunset went on, her voice became more heated and wild as if it were a torrent she had been suppressing for some time:
“I am the eldest and yet all our tutors, servants, guests and even our relatives honor her above me, just because she knows how to please everyone with her mincing words and smiles.
“I should have been first at last night’s affair, but all the young stallions asked her to dance before me and all the guests went to speak with her before me and our relatives only said hello and then went after her as well!
“And did she once defer them to me, correct them or turn them away? No, rather she encouraged them! She pranced and simpered with all of them, eating up their attentions that should by all rights and traditions and decorum belong to me!
“This is my court, my inheritance and yet she reaps all the esteem as if she were All-Mother already! What will happen when I gain my throne and yet she has the hearts of all my subjects? She is stealing my throne from me even now and yet nopony sees it or stops it, so I must fight for it myself!”
The entire time Sunset had ranted Papa had stared at her with an expression that was something like incredulity. When she was finished he spoke in an amazed tone, as if he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation:
“This is not a political opponent or a rebellious noble whom you must cut down before he strikes, this is your sister! Celestia doesn’t seek your throne, she hasn’t the mind or ambition to even know to desire it, all she will ever want in life in comfort and entertainment, as she has been since her birth! There is no creature whom your paranoia could have more deceived you as to their nature than her!
“Sunset, you cannot treat your family like the enemy, they are the only ones who will always remain faithful to you. They are the only ones who do not cling to you for the sake of prestige or power or protection. All others you will know in this life will seek to exploit you and defeat you, that is the sad state of a ruler. But your family will always have your best interests at heart.”
“Like Grandpapa had yours at heart?”
The second Sunset spoke those words Luna saw her eyes widen as if she had not even realized what she said until she heard it. But it was far too late by then. There was a brief, unbearable moment of suspended silence; then all exploded into movement and hysteria as Papa’s right hoof drove right into Sunset’s face and she was sent reeling back.
Luna stood rooted to the spot as Mama rushed to Sunset’s side, immediately putting herself between her husband and her daughter, using her wings to wipe the blood that was dribbling down Sunset’s muzzle.
Papa strode forward but Mama wrapped her wings around Sunset and drew her close.
“Get away, Frigga,” Papa snarled. Luna had never in her life heard him speak like that to her mother.
“Odin,” Mama voice was stony, like she was using them to form a wall between herself and Sunset and her husband. “Enough. Enough. She understands. Nothing more is needed.”
Papa actually glared at her. His one eye burned with such a wrath that Luna thought, in that strange detached way the mind does when in the midst of distress, like the eye at the center of the storm, how unlike Grandpapa’s it was. His had been sudden and explosive, quick to wither and die. This was deep and boiling like the heat that stoked in the roots of a volcano, waiting and simmering and never unquenched.
But Mama didn’t flinch. Her expression remained utterly implacable and she held Sunset close to her breast, her feathers spread across the young Alicorn’s head as like a shelter and a shield. Luna had always seen her mother as something soft and tender but now she saw something like iron in here, a stone driven into the earth, battered and lashed at by the elements but untouched and intransient.
Luna remembered there was an old wizard riddle: When the wind and the water go to war, who wins?
Majere had told her there were many answers and the one he had given his master was: “None, but all else suffers.”
Luna felt that if in this moment her parents clashed there would be no victory but it wasn’t her parents who would be the defeated ones.
“Odin,” Mama said again, a low thrumming rising in her voice, a sound that suddenly made Luna feel strangely dulled. “Think. Think about what you are doing. Think about what you are about to do. Think, Odin.”
Luna watched as the fire in her father’s face began to drain out of it, not like being doused or blown out, but rather as if it were being inhaled back into some furnace within him. The glare went out of his eye and was replaced with a deep, intense exhaustion; his entire countenance became haggard and for the second time that day Luna thought he looked terribly old.
He stepped back and looked at Mama like he intended to speak. But instead he turned and went out the door.
It was like breath returned to the room; Luna suddenly realized she had been holding hers and inhaled in a gasp. Mama let out a deep sigh like her spirit was departing her body and Sunset made a choking noise that Luna might have called a sob, except she had never heard her sister cry so she had no reference for such a sound.
“Shhhh, shhhh…” Mama said, stroking Sunset’s mane with her wing. “It’s over.”
Sunset was touching her muzzle daintily with her hoof, pulling it away and stared intently at the blood on it. Suddenly her face twisted hatefully and smashed her hoof against her bloody muzzle. Luna’s gasp was covered by Sunset’s snarling shriek.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Sunset snarled.
Mama immediately cast a spell to pin Sunset’s offending hoof down and another to hold Sunset’s head still, as she had begun to trash it back and forth like she was attempting to smash it against something.
“Enough,” Mama said firmly. “I said enough.”
Sunset’s body loosened and Mama released her from the spell. She rubbed Sunset’s back with her hoof and said softly, “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes it was,” Sunset said and her voice sounded as heavy as lead. “I was stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything. Next time, I’ll be more cautious, I won’t speak.”
Mama cast a spell, a pain reliever Luna assumed, and she seemed about to say something but paused and suddenly turned to Luna.
“You can leave now, beloved,” she said gently.
Luna felt guilty at how she rushed to the doors, casting a quick glance at Sunset, who didn’t seem to notice her and simply stared ahead with eyes full of a terrible, suppressed burning. Like Papa’s.
When Luna got back to her room Cadence was there, sitting at her little desk Papa had ordered to specially made for her, working on what seemed to be a mathematics lesson.
As Luna walked past her and crawled into bed, Cadence said, “You’re going back to sleep again?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel any better?”
No. “Yes.”
“I’m glad. Papa promised me we would all go picnicking this week, just like we used to before he became All-Father.”
Luna shut her eyes tightly as the image of Sunset’s bloody muzzle flashed across them.
Was that something brought out by being the All or had that always been in him?
“Are you excited, Luna?”
“I’m tired,” she said and pulled the covers over her head.
“Do you want your dolls?”
“No, I don’t.”
***
Those Without A Maker
On Morals in Warfare:
I have heard many belaboring and accusing one another over the argument of transgressing morals in warfare. Whether it is right to raze a village where we know the enemy to dwell but know also to be an orphanage; to execute doctors assisting the enemy forces, providing them with enough care so they might rise and return to their ranks to attack us, for treason; or to kill an entire household, women and children and servants, to prevent a vengeful retaliation.
To all these points I turn to the proverb: "All in love is fair to the eyes"; meaning firstly that to eyes of one smitten their lover is without fault or blemish, and secondly that in the affairs of love no act to gain, preserve or revenge it is deemed excessive or unjustified.
So it is that in warfare every measure seems righteous and justified in the eyes of the perpetrators. A mother who has held her dead child, rent in pieces by an enemy attack, will see no wrong in a retaliation that kills their babes.
So where is the sin in war? It goes the was of righteousness, buried deep with the bodies of the slain and under the debris of broken kingdoms. There is neither good nor evil only what seems best to achieve a victorious end.
Once war has been declared there is only the living and the dead, who are called the victorious and the defeated, for those who live under the rule of those who have murdered their families are as good as dead.
So I say strike! Strike first, strike hardest, and do not slow or stop until you are the victor.
Note From Luna Odinmaden:
"Those Without A Maker" was a book on the philosophy of war, written by Frigyes Kolos, a Pegasus stallion living during the Felling Times. In these days the warfare between the realms was so constant and savage that many thought the Great Tree would be uprooted or felled, hence the name.
His greatest belief was with the absence of a supreme creator with the authority to establish eternal and unchanging morals and therefore execute justice and judgement for them, that there was no logical or naturalistic purpose to follow any ethical concepts.
Survival was the only universal constant to serve and be adhered to, and given it's efficient process (due to the complete lack of concern towards collateral damage or injustice towards the innocent) it was utilized by many rulers and warmongers during this time, and in fact heralded the most brutal era of the Felling Times. The connection between the vast public acceptance of his philosophy and the increased savagery of the warfare has not been overlooked by later historians.
Frigyes Kolos himself went mad shortly after the publishing of his book and died in destitution. His last words, overheard by a priest attending him in a poorhouse (ironic, given his stance on religion), were said to be: “I see we are all of us tangled in the grasp of a great nightmare, of which there is no waking.”