From the Eternal Love of a Sister

by Scootareader

A New Home

We feel the icy grip of unconsciousness as it wraps around our mind.

In a world of nothingness, a void of blank, vast expanse, we are cursed.

Luna dreamed once, many years ago. Now it is our curse to never have dreams of my own, only observe those of others.

We have come up with some idea as to why the world of dreams eludes us.

When we use our magic to enter where ponies dream, we feel the sensation of swimming in a river of water, though we are well aware that there is no river and there is no water. It feels like a substanceless mass, and we stay buoyant not with friction but with magic. As such, the “paddling” we do in the world is actually a fluctuation of our magic; too much magic, and we dive past the wispy layer of strangeness and find ourselves in a pure quiet, a dark nothingness similar to what we experience when I sleep.

Too little magic causes us to rise away from the river and toward an eerie bright light above. We have explored this light at some length, but as far as we can tell, it symbolizes a return to consciousness. Any sleeping pony need only look up in this world and seek out the light to wake up.

So, what is this strange river which we hold ourselves in? We believe it to be a weaving together of the subconscious minds of all the sleeping creatures—so many, in fact, that it looks like a river flowing in this realm revealed by my magic. It has surges and ebbs dependent on how many ponies are in this frame of mind, giving the illusion that it is like a river as we perceive it in the real world.

When we look just below this river of subconsciousness, we see dreams. We need only look down to see what ponies are thinking, their deepest hopes, fears, and inhibitions coming to life in a way that only we can experience. These dreams often come out tattered or incomplete on the other end, so they may make little sense to the pony, but we remember clearly what happens here, bound to it as we are by a magical connection rather than a mental one.

So, why are we unable to experience these dreams?

A large part of the burden of being the Princess of the Night is that we must be awake when so many slumber. It is our fate to stand vigil and watch all that happens around us when the darkness stays even my sister’s judgmental hoof. As such, we only share our time sleeping with a very small number of ponies. In fact, we have never met another pony who truly shares the night with us.

Without the subconscious minds of so many ponies traveling through the river, the light beams downward, through the depths of the mind to reach further. One can still escape the light if it retreats far enough into the darkness, but the ever-present glare from above sifts past where the subconscious lies far more clearly when there are less subconscious minds present.

Before taking on the duties of the night, I slept away the world at its most beautiful and serene, as my sister had. I dreamed back then as well. We’ve yet to meet a pony who shares our vigil, so we cannot ask if they too do not dream.

This is a better hope to us than the pessimistic, if rational, explanation that our duties have stripped such a right away from us.

Today, as with every other day, we share the darkness of sleep only with ourselves. We do not mind the solitude, the silence, and the ever-present nothingness.

We often wish we could share it with another, though.

Eventually, my body feels itself returning to consciousness. My mind surfaces, and I am thinking again.

There is nothing.

I panic immediately. I see nothing, I hear nothing, I feel nothing. There is nothing, but I am here.

I am conscious, but trapped. Trapped in my mind? Trapped in the realm of dreams? Where am I?

“Do not fear the darkness, Luna. I am your ally.”

---

I awake with a start, a strangled scream escaping from my throat as my eyes snap open and I bolt upright. The blankets cling to my cold, sweat-coated body, unwilling to let go of the host they so lovingly held when she felt so lost and alone.

A guard slams the door open. It is a white Pegasus. “Princess, what has happened?”

“We are fine, we thank thou for asking. It was only...” we pause thoughtfully, “a dream. A bad dream, fair subject.”

Not even my sister knows that we do not dream anymore.

“My apologies for intruding, Princess.” The guard lounges about the door for a few moments, seeming to have a purpose, but unsure how to approach it.

“Speak now, or forever hold thy tongue.”

“S-sorry, it’s just... I was knocking on the door when you awoke. I wasn’t sure if you had heard it.”

We care little for this waste of time. “What news dost thou have to impart?”

The guard makes an exaggerated bow, his nose briefly tapping the ground. “Your presence is requested in the West Wing Study immediately.”

“Then we shall go immediately. Escort me there.”

The shock on the guard’s face is comical. We realize somewhere in our mind that he does not view the situation as quite so humorous, but we ignore such notions. We do not know the way ourselves, so it is beneficial that he lead us there as well.

As we journey through the corridors, a pale light beams through the stained-glass windows which line us on both sides and cast strangely faded shapes along the floor. “What hour is this?”

The guard is confused briefly before he realizes what we were asking. “It’s around 3 in the morning, Princess.”

“Why were we not awoken sooner?”

“We tried, Princess.” The guard sidles away from us. He seems afraid he may be struck. “I tried, actually. You didn’t answer the first several times we knocked, then I entered and tried to awake you. It’s as if you were comatose.” He swallows and cringes, expecting rebuke. We offer none, instead nodding encouragingly. “We called for a doctor, who said you were fine, just sleeping deeply. I was ordered to stand guard and wait for you to awake.”

“Thank you for informing me of this.” We smile encouragingly at him, and his posture straightens, the ghost of a smile flickering past his own mouth before it disappears just as quickly.

Upon first seeing Canterlot Castle, we noted that it was large. Upon entering, we saw an enormous room which seemed to engulf the entirety of the building. Since then, we have been led down corridor after corridor, moving from one place to another and remembering nothing. Granted, we would have lost track of my tail frequently were it not attached to my flank, but the veritable maze which we now live in would take a full decade simply to explore, much less memorize the layout.

Much has changed. If only the layout of this castle were more simplistic and logical, like the earth ponies had built Canterlot before. This twisting labyrinth reeks of unicorn engineering.

Abruptly, the guard halts in front of a door, bowing and taking his leave.

I set my eyes upon the ornately carved handle. We have never been one to enjoy mysteries.

My magic wraps around the handle and pulls the door open carefully, my eyes peeping into the slowly widening crack so as not to be surprised by what lay within.

There is only a single pony. She has a cream-colored coat and a muted brown mane, an intense look of boredom on her face which is only accentuated by her librarian’s glasses. She yawns loudly as she looks up at us. “Welcome to my office, Princess.”

Despite my best efforts to steel myself, this has still taken us quite off-guard. “We were expecting my sister.”

“And why were you expecting her, Luna?”

“Because we have not spoken to her in several hours. Who art thou?”

The pony yawns again and stands, stretching her legs briefly. “My name is Pathologicopeer—I know, quite a mouthful, but my parents were... shall we say, exotic.” She laughs briefly at some joke she made for herself. “Most of my patients just call me Pathy, though. I find it easiest to simply allow them to use the nickname, as—”

“Patients?”

The mare winces as if struck. “Yes, patients.” She hisses the word through gritted teeth, as if she could not believe we just interrupted her.

So, I leave the room, closing the door behind me. We will find our own way back.

Comments

[Scootareader]

3849120
Submitting to Equestria Daily? Well...

I once submitted a one-shot I'd written which I felt was worthy of Equestria Daily promotion. I received an e-mail back telling me my story was a train wreck, despite having nothing but positive reviews otherwise. My story was good, but not worthy of Equestria Daily.

If I wanted this to make it to EqD, I'd first have to hire about three editors to ensure continuity of the I/we sentence structure (which I sometimes break the rules of to preserve sentence flow), as well as rereading them three or four times to make sure I'd gotten all the glaring errors (I'm a great natural proofreader), and finally submit it, take all of their critique to heart and make whatever fixes they so desired, and hope for a pre-reader that likes my story premise enough to not English language it to death.

I'm happy with the story in its current form, and I don't mind nopony knowing who I am; it makes me happy just knowing that you like it enough to want it to have more exposure. For that flattery, I thank you.

If you would like more people to read this story, feel free to discuss it in places where interested readers may be. I could submit it to EqD, but I'm fairly certain it would just be denied.

[vampyr-pony]

So, I leave the room, closing the door behind me. We will find our own way back.

i think i died from laughter at this...i did the same thing once so i know the doctors face at the time of it closing too.

[Scootareader]

3849880
I can honestly say I've never closed the door on someone's face, so I can't actually relate here. It just felt like something Luna would do in this situation.

[PaulAsaran]

Well done. Luna sitting around for a psychologist strikes me as rather... not her style. some people have done it, supposedly to good effect, but I always thought she'd find the task beneath her.