Clocks marked the boundaries of hours because without them time is an illusion or a metaphor to describe undemarcated Experience. Twilight knew this somewhere beneath her conscious thought. It is what drove her mounting frustration with the noise. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. No, not mounting. Beside her bookishness there is at least a small bit of her that remembers the Sparkles were once a noble house. Tick. Tock. She refused to be lured into passion by something as mundane as a clock.
Tick.
Tock.
Sleep eluded her and she was both resentful of it and ashamed of the irrationality of being resentful of it. Why should she resent a concept? It was not as if she had lost much by the difficulty. No, if anything she enjoyed the deep night. She’d gotten some long overdue reading done. Gotten a week ahead on her reports and paperwork. Had much needed time to herself.
The little fireplace in her study flared and Twilight eagerly grabbed the scroll that emerged in her magic’s hold.
The other good thing about her recent bouts with insomnia? Chess with Luna.
She opened the scroll and read the move for Luna’s turn at the top of the missive as she walked over to the little side table in her study. She carefully mirrored Luna’s own board and then considered the board for a few minutes. Yes, her plan was more or less intact. She made her own move and sent her answer before noticing that there was more than a simple direction in the message.
I have quite enjoyed matching wits with you, Twilight Sparkle. I am curious, however, as to what the youngest of the realm’s Princesses is doing at such late hours these last few nights. Consider myself interested professionally, being that I am mistress of more than mere darkness.
Twilight’s brow furrowed.
She wrote another message and threw it into the little sending fire. No need to wake Spike just to spend the night sending chess moves. The little guy needed his sleep.
It’s nothing. Just a bit of insomnia.
And it was, wasn’t it? Late nights where she wore herself out with books or idle thoughts until sleep came, late but always it came. Books and idle thoughts… Peculiar thoughts. Thoughts that would not leave, no matter what arguments Twilight brought against them.
That was an interesting thing she had noticed about herself over time, how peculiar her thoughts grew once the sun retreated. It wasn’t if there was any sudden shift. It was simply… some things which were unthinkable at noon were all too thinkable around midnight. An image that horrified at noon, one that might repulse her with its affront to decency, suddenly seemed less awful and more palatable. Very palatable.
She swallowed and returned to Hippolyta in Furs. It was an absolutely idiotic thing to be reading at the moment, if she were honest. She would only fuel these thoughts. And yet.
Every page compelled her onward. She licked her lips and continued--
“Be then my slave, and know what it means to be delivered into the hooves of a mare.”
--and smirked softly to herself. There was something about the book that evoked in her feelings and expressions which the Twilight of the daytime would find alien. She remembered standing before the mirror one night and imagining herself there also, herself twinned, as one watched and one… performed. The half-feigned fear, the delicious uncertainty, on the face of one and predatory smile of the other.
Somewhere on the liminal boundary between fillyhood and adulthood, Twilight had found herself drawn to strange things. Specifically, the idea of having a pony at her mercy. No, more than that, the idea of a pony who would offer themselves to her mercy. Of course, inquisitive as she was, there had been an investigation of sorts into the why, but there had never been a satisfying answer. The idea had just refused to be examined.
Well. Examined in a more scientific way. She spent plenty of time examining the idea of a beautiful mare beneath her hooves in other ways, in the small hours of the night. And as she grew older? Sometimes they came off-white and well-spoken, or brightly colored and flying and brash, until she tamed them. And then the next morning she would feel strange in their company and resolve not to think such things again. She would burn with shame because it was so indecent.
The thing about shame was that it built over time if you held on to it, and it became something else. Where others might find that the feeling warned them off such behavior, her unease had only served to make her ever more powerful fantasies seem more appealing. It was the forbidden fruit which tasted sweetest upon the vine, after all. A slightly embarrassing daydream about a beautiful friend was just that, slightly embarrassing. But the idea of that being shameful and secret?
And so on. Again and again. Vexing, to be sure, but always private and hidden. And perhaps she was projecting, a bit. No, not projecting. What was it called? She was too hard on herself.
She was drawn back into the roiling of the book again. Severe Look, caught again in the baleful sight of--
Another move. She almost growled as she looked up, but then forgot her irritation. Perhaps it was better this way. She could perhaps send a slightly longer letter, spread out the reply. It might be just what she needed. A little bit of time. She knew what came next. It was not the first time she had read this brief novella in the late hours of the night.
Knight to c-4.
Now, let us speak honestly, young Twilight. I am mistress of many things, as you know. The glorious night. Shadows. Dreams. Desires. Yes, you will pause, but it was true in the old days.
Do you avoid sleep, or does it avoid you? I begin to think perhaps it is mostly the former. Tell me, Twilight Sparkle, what you hope to accomplish by this.
Twilight sighed. That was the problem of trying both to sink into lust and trying to distract oneself from it. Either would be fine, but being of two minds was intolerable.
She marked her place in the book and retrieved yet another bit of stationary. She wrote.
I just have things on my mind. It’s nothing world-shattering, I promise. Just… some issues. Personal baggage. It really is nothing.
She levitated the letter back and watched it burn in the sending fire.
She did not return to her reading. She realized that she hadn’t made a move, but before she could return to the board Twilight was struck by an odd realization. What had Luna’s letter said, exactly? She turned back to it. That was it. Desire. What an odd thing to bring up. Especially to Twilight. What could--
She pushed away from her desk with a sudden stab of fear.
Certainly not. Hadn’t Luna once told her that she rarely ventured into dreams except where there was need? What need would she have to interfere in… in those dreams? In the ones that, yes, she was avoiding. The ones that had started up again. Except now they had a specific object, didn’t they? Those old fantasies, dreams and imaginations before the mirror and between her sheets and on the couch late at night when she was alone.
Twilight swallowed and shook her head. Nonsense. Luna didn’t--
Another missive. She snagged it and tore it open.
Let us cease this dance. Would you kindly open your window?
Twilight sat still as could be, reading those two sentences over and over. She shivered and stood. With automatic skill she opened the window and let in the night, and then she waited. A few minutes passed in utter silence apart from the slight crackling of her forgotten fire. She did not look at the window but stood beside her desk focusing on the shadows that the fire cast. It was dark. Not totally so, but mostly. There was a lamp on her desk. Candles unlit here and there, more for smell and ambience than for light. The fire. Dancing lights on the walls. Anything but the window.
She heard the rush of wings and took a deep breath.
“Hello, Princess Luna.”
“I shall refer to you by your title if you refer to me by mine, friend.”
Twilight smirked, again automatically. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.”
“That they do.”
Luna strode into her vision. She was, as always, beautiful. Absolutely stunning. Even diminished as she had been when first Twilight had laid eyes on her, her first thought had been--Stars, but she is beautiful. Had it been those wide, expressive eyes? Perhaps. The way she curled in on herself, near tears? That picture had bothered her for awhile, in more ways than one. It had a realism about it that her fantasies of a tamed and submissive Rainbow Dash had lacked, a certain truth of feeling--
No stop it. There had to be a hard line between this disease of her mind and the waking world. Left to herself in the unhappy hours after midnight, her thoughts grew strange.
Luna had always been stunning. She was still, and Twilight quailed before her stern look. She sat on her haunches in front of the desk. Her starry mane billowed with no wind to move it. This was a creature of darkness in her element, and Twilight felt for a moment like a rabbit caught in a vice. It was a nice feeling. It was also a very unwelcome one.
“What brings you here this late?” Twilight asked.
Luna raised an eyebrow. “Did I not express my desire to move beyond games? Let me be frank with you. I’ve seen your dreams. I know what you want.”
Twilight did not panic. She did not deny anything. She cocked her head to the side and she lied. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
Luna’s glory seemed to flare. Her face hardened. “Speak not your deceptions to me, young Twilight! Wouldst thou presume to slip past Us with thy casual mockeries of Our power?”
“I-I don’t know what you me--”
“If thou… If you were to dream,” she began again, intensely but quieter now, “then we would know. Not details, without need or cause, but we have felt more dreams than could ever be counted in the most simple of ways. You cannot hide from us in the Aether.”
“What dreams have you seen?” It tumbled out of her in a rush. Her legs felt a little weak. Her face burned. Three dozen images flashed before her eyes and she saw… she saw things she would rather her friends and family not see unadulterated.
There was a pause. Some of the fire in Luna’s eyes died away and she smiled. If anything, her annoyance had become something almost sultry. Twilight tried very hard not to think of it as such. She also failed.
“What dreams,” she echoed. “My, what dreams you have.”
Twilight swallowed.
“Oh. Those dreams.”
“Yes. Those.”
Twilight took a deep breath. Then another. “All of them?”
She was already calculating just how much damage there would be. Luna would want to know what these strange urges
“Many of them. And to forestall your inevitable question: I was not merely snooping on your unshielded and private thoughts. You all but shouted your desires at me. In fact, the first time, I was so caught off guard that I rushed into your dreaming blind, thinking you had been calling for my aid. I found that you were decidedly not doing so only afterwards.”
“I… which one?”
“Rarity.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.” Luna began to move about her office. Only now did Twilight notice that her fire had gone out. The lamp on her desk was on, but now it was alone. Luna had faded back into the shadows, and perhaps that was right. Twilight felt hunted. Cornered. “One could say that I grow weary of your aetheric shouting, young Princess, but that would be dishonest of me to speak. No, I am here because I am utterly delighted in what I have found in you.”
“Delighted?”
What tone was this? Soft, and yet it promised. Her eyes glittered in the dark like stars. “Yes. Absolutely delighted. I have found a kindred spirit. It has been far, far too long. Tell me, do you know much of the secrets of my court? Have they been unearthed by the long years?”
“No,” Twilight said. “I mean, I gather they haven’t. All I found was--”
“Records,” Luna said, and chuckled. “Good, I did my work well, then.”
“Your… work?”
“What if I told you that these… dreams of yours, especially the ones that I know you fabricated artificially, were not so foreign to me? That I, in fact, presided over the rites that were their precursor in a more heroic age? Hm? I had been wondering how the secret arts of love had progressed in my absence, but I had not yet sought out likeminded individuals. And here you have fallen onto my back midflight, as it were.”
“You… You’re talking about…” Twilight shook her head. “We’re talking about the same dreams, right?”
“The one I stepped into involved a rather fascinating spectacle. Rarity had a suppressor on her horn, of course. Eyes blindfolded. A bit in her mouth… I thought the hogtie was a bit crude, but isn’t that part of the merriment of it? I confess I stayed awhile. I did so enjoy the music she made for us both--and, for that matter, I found myself strangely moved to see your delight in her abandonment. Even in your dreams you cared. I trust you do not mind.”
Twilight shivered. Part of her wanted to be horrified.
The rest of her, the majority of her, was remembering that exact scene. That exact sight. Rarity, helpless on her bed, the strange and intoxicating mixture of ecstasy and worry in those beautiful, expressive eyes. How they had shone! The dismay had not all been feigned, but beneath it the comfort of an ultimate safety, that this space was a fantastic one...
It had been a long dream.
“I’m not sure, but I don’t think I do,” she said evenly. The idea of Luna watching invisibly all the while… no, she’d called her there, apparently. Accidentally, yes, but still. She would deal with that later.
“But, I had planned to keep silent a bit longer,” Luna continued. Her glittering eyes moved now, back and forth. Twilight watched them. “Just a time to watch and be sure. There were, even in my days, young mares and young bucks who played at such things but had not the stomach or the heart for true indulgence… no, true commitment to the art, and to another pony. Or several. I wished to be sure before I approached you. And then I saw your last dream. I tasted its artificial air, acrid on my tongue, knew you had crafted this one with the crude lore my sister’s lone rule produced. I saw her. Mind you, only for a second. But…”
“I wasn’t sure. I had started worrying about whether or not you would notice dreams I tampered with using Sign Weaver’s Theorem.” Twilight bit her lower lip. “But I wanted to do it anyway.”
“And would you still like to? What if I told you that I could arrange for such a thing, hm?”
“I… I guess you could, couldn’t you?” Twilight said softly. “Something not created by me would be… would be much better, I think. My versions were so predictable. They never felt satisfying.”
She saw it immediately. The vision, the one that precipitated all others. Herself. And… Celestia. And Luna could make that, couldn’t she? She could create such a thing perfectly with centuries of eye for detail.
Night’s soveriegn lady hummed. “Satisfying… no, it would not be, would it? Shall I play my hand so early?” Before Twilight could ask, she cast a spell.
There was only the tiniest spark along her horn to light her up in the inky black, and then Twilight found she could no longer feel the floor. Panic wedged its way into the forefront of her mind, and she flailed.
But something--somepony--caught her. She was wrapped up tightly in a firm embrace, gentle in that it did not hurt, vicelike in that she knew immediately there was no escape. Her panic died immediately and was replaced with a feeling of safety. This was Luna. She knew it was Luna, only Luna would have caught her.
And so it was Luna, for she spoke now in Twilight’s ear as the darkness shaped itself into new shapes. “You are not dreaming. Yet. But I have decided to lay my full design before you, as recompense for your earlier deed.”
Twilight saw… herself. She paced her study. She poked at books. She scribbled on paper and then tore her notes to shreds or wadded them up and tried to sink yet another trashball in the basket. She missed. Again. Hours and hours.
Time moved on. Her usual features seemed to go slack with time. Her eyes were not bright. She looked, it seemed, as exhausted and unwell as she felt.
“Perhaps you can begin to understand,” Luna was saying. “This cannot stand. Something is eating away at you, and instead of meeting your foe head on as a Princess should you have simply given it power over you and waited the day of your demise. Why, it is almost blasphemous that a mare of your stature would be brought low by nothing more than her own mind at war with itself. Truly, it is a sad sight. I want to help you.”
“Help?”
“Help. I offer you the aid of… a safe place. I recognize some of this turmoil--I know some of these frustrations. Speak plainly: for all of your dreaming, have you laid with another mare?”
Twilight was grateful she couldn’t raise her hoof to smack herself across the face, for her own sake. “For the love of Celestia, really?”
“Tis but a question.”
“Oh Song and Stars, yes. Yes, technically.”
“Technically?”
“It was…” she grumbled the rest.
“Unsatisfying?” Luna asked, mirroring her earlier thought.
“I guess.”
“Hm. But not for… ah. So it is not merely that. There are a few ailments I find lurking in you. The first is that you have desires of various sorts that are harmful. Not because they are wicked but because you have made them monsters by your own fretting. Is it truly such a sin in this time to find one’s friends beautiful? Your thoughts have been chaste for the most part, have they not? Outside of the small hours of our night…”
“This cannot be a conversation I am having.”
Luna chuckled. “It is very much happening. Now, moving beyond your own unfounded worries over yourself… there are other things. My proposal is that you cease this worrisome trend of self-flagellation and instead explore these images. These thoughts you’ve had, these dreams… yes, I know they concern you. Some of them rightly so.”
Twilight wanted to hide. “Luna, I can’t just--”
But she was shushed into a sullen silence. “Listen to me first, friend. Explore them. All of them, from the ecstatic to the grim, under my aegis. I will be with you when you desire me to be, and my protection shall be yours regardless. Nothing can hurt you this way. Nothing will happen but that you shall see yourself reflected and be able to understand. Do you truly think that you can grow without first facing yourself?”
Twilight had no answer. She hung limply, watching the beleaguered image of herself continue to avoid sleeping or thinking, trying to focus on…
On anything that wasn’t her libidinous daydreams. “It’s alright? I mean… I know you probably won’t tell anyone, but it’s not going to… to bleed over, will it? There’s feeling freer and more at home in one’s skin and then there is radically changing behavior out of the blue. Can I really indulge my fantasy without becoming a different pony? I like being the pony I am.”
“Only if you wish to change,” Luna said. “I certainly will not force change upon you. For that matter, I will offer you a sign of grace. I had planned to offer this regardless, but hear me now: when you are within a dream crafted by my touch, you shall find a pendant upon your neck on a silver chain in the shape of the waning moon. If you feel that you are in danger, that you have been driven beyond a place where you can feel comfortable or at the very least safe, then you would simply crush it into the ground with your hoof. Destroy my sigil in some way, and then the dream shall end immediately. There is no need to worry about some sort of corruption, but if you ever felt that the fantasy has gone too far…”
“It’s a safeword. I guess? Except one that I don’t need to be able to speak to use. I’m assuming you would probably be designing things that no matter what, I would have a way to use it? And now that I’m thinking about it and rambling already, there’s probably something a little cathartic about being able to smash it.”
“Yes.”
Twilight swallowed nervously. She hadn’t expected this, never this, not in a million years. She felt hot all over, as if any moment might see her slick with anxious sweat. But it was true, and the more she considered Luna’s words she found them without much room for her to maneuver out of the trap. She was running herself ragged with recriminations over private fantasies. She had always wanted to experience so many things, and when she was too shy to pursue those desires it left her frustrated and feeling weak. The frustration fueled further desire… it was a cycle. An unfortunate one.
Perhaps she could break it. If she could just… taste. Just a taste, and then she could put all of this strange, weird obsession behind her and just be normal. No more daydreams about bindings, no idle and indecent thoughts. Just… calm again. Or something.
And, if she were honest--if honesty was what she was going to commit to, with herself--she was a little turned on thinking about what Luna might craft for her. The slightest touch of Luna, still covering her, clutching her as she sat into that darkness peering, was electric. The touch of any pony was electric, interesting, but Luna was something she knew so little about. She was a great question mark. Twilight had always found mystery enticing. So, she took a deep breath, and said--
“I’ll do it.”