A Dark Knightmare

by Danger Beans

Doll Room

The house was empty.

The foal knew this as certainly as she knew her own name. She’d known it the moment she awoken into the darkened stillness of her bedroom. Yet despite her tacit conviction, she spoke out into the darkness. “Hello? Mommy?” No answer came. She called again, louder this time. “Mommy?”

The house was empty.

But she was not alone.

This too the foal knew with the same dreaded certainty. If asked, she would not have been able to say how exactly she knew this, merely that she did.

Suddenly, on the other side of her bedroom, came a dull scraping noise. The foal yelped in surprise, searching for the source of the noise. It was dark in her room, but not so dark that nothing could be seen. The scraping noise came again, and the foal realized where it was coming from: behind her closet door.

She pulled the covers up to her muzzle. “Mommy? Is that you?” she called feebly.

The scratching grew more intense, becoming almost feverish. The foal whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the scratching ceased and silence flooded in.

It stayed that way—dark and still—for a long time. But the foal didn’t move. She stared at the door with bated breath; she knew, with that same terrible confidence, that there was something behind the door. Something bad.

The handle turned.

The door fell into blackness.

Clutching her stuffed kitten tightly in her mouth, the foal kicked off the covers and got out of bed.

As she approached the entryway, the seamless black seemed to fade somewhat, allowing her to see the thin veneer of what lay beyond. Not enough to make out her surroundings, but enough to see the floor ahead.

The foal crossed over the edge of nothing.

All at once, the meager light from her bedroom disappeared and the shadow enveloped her like black, viscous liquid. There was no sound save the tender knocking of her hoof-falls on the wood and the swift, unsteady rhythm of her breathing.

Slowly her surroundings came into focus: she was in a long, black corridor. Rows of hung coats and dresses surrounded her on either side. They were much too large for her, and smelled of mildew and dust.

The foal strode forward, hesitantly at first, but more surely as she progressed. There was a faint light at the end of the corridor. The foal stepped towards it, unblinking, like a moth to the flame.

Dolls.

The foal is in a room filled with dolls. A doll room.

Hundreds of dolls lined the shelves, the dresser, and even the floor corners. Garbed in white dresses, with bright blue eyes and bright red lips painted onto their smiling faces. They all had white coats and lush golden curls about their manes. Their features were petite, almost waiflike; they looked as serene and delicate as angels. The foal stared at the dolls, her fear momentarily forgotten amongst the painted faces and porcelain smiles.

“Hello.”

The foal shrieked, jumping back as she did so. “Hello? Is somepony there?” She called, looking for the source of the voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said a voice from somewhere in the shadows. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Where are you?” asked the foal. She looked over the room, searching the porcelain faces.

“I’m right here, silly.”

“Where?”

“Up here.”

“Up?” The foal looked up, and froze. Standing above her, on the dresser, was another porcelain doll, dressed and painted like all the rest. But this one was looking down at her.

“Hi,” said the porcelain doll. “What’s your name? Mine’s Spangled Summer.”

Do not speak.

The foal didn’t say anything.

Spangled Summer tilted her head curiously. “I asked you a question. It isn’t polite not to answer when somepony asks you a question.” The dolls tone didn’t falter in its politeness. “I asked you what your name was?”

Do not give it your name.

The foal opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Spangled Summer tilted her head to the side. “What’s wrong? Are you shy? That’s okay, you don’t have to be nervous. But if we’re going to be friends, then you need to tell me your name.”

The doll is not your friend.

“Please?” Spangled Summer implored. “Once we’re properly introduced, we can have all kinds of fun.”

“I’m Cutie Pie,” said the foal at last.

No . . .

“Cutie Pie . . .” said the doll. “You have a very pretty name.”

Cutie Pie smiled and blushed. “Thank you. So do you.”

“Do . . . you . . . want . . . to . . . play . . . a game . . . with . . . us?” Spangled Summer asked, her porcelain muzzle cracking with every word.

Cutie Pie said nothing, staring at the doll as exultance gave way to horror.

A hundred porcelain necks begin to crack and twist unnaturally with a sound like a cascade of glass falling to the floor, a hundred smiling faces deforming with vicious glee. “We . . . know . . . lots . . . of games,” said the doll. Its face was now a black spider web of cracks. “But our . . . favorite . . . game is . . . playing . . . with . . . scissors.” Her right arm jerked upward with a crack, then her left, and then her hind legs, and she was suddenly free of the stand on which she stood. “It’s a really, really . . . fun game,” the doll said, jumping onto the floor. “You’ll see.”

Run.

More than a dozen dolls had broken free of their stands now, walking towards her with cracked porcelain smiles. Staring at her with dead eyes. “We’re going to have so much fun together!” the dolls spoke in unison, like a cacophonous choir.

Run!

The foal didn’t move. She stood there frozen in the black ice of terror.

RUN!

Several of the dolls were carrying scissors now. Overlarge and crusted brown with age . . . or perhaps something worse.

RUN AWAY, YOU LITTLE FOAL! NOW!

She snapped out of her stupor and ran.

“Where are you going?” said the dolls in unison. “You can’t leave yet!”

The foal ran blindly back through the pitch-black closet; the clothes hung therein tearing at her like brambles.

“Come back!” cried the dolls from behind her. “This isn’t how you play the game!” From behind her, came the sound of a thousand porcelain hooves on wood.

Stop!

The foal stopped, skidding on the carpet. The foal realized that she was back in her bedroom.

Close the door and lock it!

The foal stared back at open door, and understanding dawned. She ran to the door, and slammed it shut. No sooner had she turned the lock, however, then there was a terrible thump on the door, so forceful it threw her back on her haunches.

“YOU’RE NOT PLAYING THE GAME RIGHT!” screamed the dolls. “YOU CAN’T RUN UNTIL YOU HAVE THE SCISSORS!”

A pair of scissor blades pierced the doorway; the foal screamed.

“NOW STAY THERE AND WE’LL GIVE YOU THE SCISSORS!” Their voices had changed. They sounded like grown-up voices now, but horribly mashed together.

More blades pierced the door; blue eyes peered out at her from the torn holes. “PEEK-A-BOO! WE SEEEEE YOU!”

Get up, little one.

Sobbing now, the foal got to her hooves and backed into the farthest corner of the room.

The door buckled and groaned and finally broke, falling down in a crumpled heap. For a second, there was silence, and then, slowly, the dolls began filing through. “It’s time to play . . .” crooned the dolls in eerie unison. Though they barely resembled dolls anymore. Their porcelain bodies were menageries of cracks and torn clothing. “We’re going to have . . . so . . . much . . . fun.”

The first doll crossed the threshold into the bedroom, and Luna felt it: the nightmare bringing itself fully into the foal’s mind.

The trap was sprung.

Luna revealed herself.

From out of the window she erupted, horn blazing. She hit the nearest dolls with a lance of magic before her hooves touched the floor. A dozen exploded in a shower of sparks and porcelain. Luna felt the nightmare try to pull away—to retreat from the dream—only to impact against the ward which she’d left around the foal’s mind.

The dolls reared up towards her and roared. “Don’t try to ruin our game!”

Luna stepped between the dolls and the foal. “Your game is at an end, nightmare,” and lit her horn. A brilliant blue light lanced forth into the remaining dolls; as one, they screamed and shattered. Luna stood still for a moment, sweeping out with her senses for any remaining traces of the nightmare, and once she was satisfied that there were none, turned her attention to the foal.

“Are you all right, little one?” she asked.

The little foal was shivering like a leaf in a storm, but managed a nod. “Y-y-yes. Thank you.”

Luna smiled. “Do not be afraid, little one.” She lit her horn, and the darkened bedroom fell away in a haze of blue light.

---

“Tag! You’re it!” the giant kitten yelled, tapping the foal upon her head and running away.

“No I’m not! I’m gonna get you!” the foal screamed back, and took off after the kitten.

They were in a field of wildflowers. The Sun was shining brightly overhead and the foal’s parents could be seen off in the distance enjoying a picnic. Luna sat on a cloud above them, watching as they played and laughed. If she still had any memory of the nightmare, then she showed no sign of it. Luna felt only happiness coming from her heart, and saw no trace of the dark happenings in her thoughts.

Luna smiled. Everything was as it should be. This, was how children's’ dreams were supposed to be. Joyous and carefree.

Luna.

Luna felt jerked upward on her cloud.

Luna, I need you.

With a start, Luna realized what was happening: she was being summoned. She’d not been summoned directly since before the Long Night. Luna lit her horn, and dissolved into mist.

---

Luna enjoyed flying in the rain. She had returned to the Canterlot immediately upon exiting the dreamscape and had been pleasantly surprised to find dark clouds tearing open over the city. It wasn’t until she had touched down on the balcony of the East Tower that she had realized just why it had been so surprising: it never rained in Canterlot. The city had no need for rainfall, grew no crops. Possessed no natural flora. There was simply no reason why the weather ponies would expend the effort.

Luna threw open the door to her sister’s chambers and stormed in. “Sister! I have arrived.” Nothing. Celestia’s chamber was dark and empty. Her sister's bed was untouched, her fire unlit. Everything was clean and immaculate, as if nothing had been touched since the roomkeepers had come in the morning. Curious, Luna thought. She crossed the room and threw open the doors to to the exterior corridor, startling a pair of guards on the other side. “Where is my sister?” Luna demanded.

They pair of stallions gaped at her blankly for a moment, and one said, “Princess Celestia?”

“Yes, Princess Celestia. My Sister,” Luna said as politely as she could. “Where is she?”

“In the dungeon.”

Before another word could be said, Luna was mist, traveling down through the floor, through the stairs, the antechamber, the throne room, cellar pantry, and finally, the dungeon. Honestly, she thought, walking down the stone corridor. Why her sister had deemed it necessary to send her most competent guard ponies to the Crystal Empire was beyond her. Princess Cadence was protected by the Crystal Heart. And Shining Armor was an aegismancer of the highest order besides.

Luna’s ruminating was cut short when she came around the corner and spied her sister, surrounded by an assorted group of guards and servants scurrying around her like bees on comb. She cleared her throat.

Celestia looked up quickly. “Luna!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She dismissed the assorted ponies with a word, and once they were alone said, “Did you have a good hunt?”

Luna shrugged. “Twas successful.” She paused for a moment, and then added, “I trapped the Doll Maker tonight.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news, Luna! You’ve been on that one’s trail for what, two months now? You must be happy.”

“Yes, I am,” Luna lied. It was not a complete lie. She was pleased that the Doll Maker was no more, but the nightmare had been cautious, not bringing its essence fully into the dream until just before it could gorge itself. Allowing such a beast to terrify a young foal before she could destroy it had left a sour taste upon upon her tongue.

“But I did not come here to exchange pleasantries. Why did thou summon me, Sister?” Luna asked, returning to the subject at hoof. “And why is it raining in Canterlot?”

Celestia’s smile grew wry. “Always to the point, Luna.” She turned to a wrought iron metal door set into the stone of the far wall. “Shortly after you left for the night, there was a magical surge in the everfree.”

“What caused this surge?” Luna asked. “Does a threat to Equestria loom on the horizon?”

Celestia shook her head. “That is why I called you here, Sister. When reports of wild storms from the everfree began coming in, I had a scouting party sent out to ascertain the cause.”

“What did they find?”

Celestia opened the door. “They found a creature. Badly wounded and unlike any creature that I've seen before.” She turned to Luna. “And they found these.”

Luna stepped through the door. At first, she wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. Luna could see in the dark better than she could in the light--or sometimes it so seemed--but strewn about the cell was as bizarre a collection of detritus as she had ever seen before.

There was a large black cloth, tattered and torn beyond repair, a coiled length of rope, a collection of small yellow saddlebags, black marbles of varying sizes, a glowing green rock, several items which Luna would have been hard pressed to describe at knifepoint, and finally, a dozen pieces of warped metal, scattered around the floor like crows on a carcass.

“Sister . . . what, what is this?”

“I was hoping that you could tell me the answer to that question,” Celestia said, following her into the cell. “You did spend near a century exploring the lands beyond our borders after all.”

Luna paced slowly through the cell, glancing at the various accoutrements. Eventually, she grasped one of the warped metal pieces. “Well I can tell you that these are weapons.”

“A weapon?” Celestia asked, eyeing the metal dubiously. “I don't see how that could possibly serve as a weapon. Perhaps it could be used as a knife in close quarters but--”

“It has been warped by a great heat.” Luna cast a minor spell over the metal; slowly, its twisted frame became straight and its edges sharp.

Luna held it out.

Celestia took the blade in horn. “Admittedly, that does look more like a blade, but how would one use such a thing without magic? Trying to stab or cut with such a blade would also cut the wielder.”

Luna took the blade back and held it above her head. “During my travels I came across a curious species of sapient. They looked not unlike rats, but they were the size of ponies, and thy traversed by hopping on their hind legs like hares. We did not share a common tongue, so I christened them rat-hares.”

“And these ‘rat-hares’ hunted with such blades?” Celestia asked.

“No, they hunted with a curved piece of flattened wood. More like a throwing club than a knife.” Luna spun the metal piece and flicked it towards the far wall. It spun through the air with a sound not unlike the flapping of tiny wings, and embedded itself halfway into the stone. “But they were very effective.”

“Oh my,” Celestia said, staring at the cracked wall.

Luna returned her attention to the floor. Every object on the floor had been burned, or warped by an intense heat, and yet she smelled no trace of smoke or charcoal. “What manner of spell did your scouts use to subdue the creature?”

“They didn't subdue him.”

Luna looked up sharply. “Explain.”

“According to the report he was unconscious when the scouting party found him. And he was so badly burned that they flew him to the nearest hospital in Ponyville.” Celestia paused a moment. “It wasn’t until they started to remove his clothing that they realized he might be dangerous. So they went to Twilight’s castle and sent me a message via dragonflame. I came here and brought the creature to the castle where I had to teleport it off of him piece by piece. And that leads us to our current position.” She shook her head. “I have honestly never seen the like.”

“Burned . . .” Luna said, stretching out with her senses. “He was burned by something horrendously powerful. I can feel the residual energies. Strange . . . it feels not unlike the Dread Lord Tirek’s arcana.”

“Tirek? Do you think that he could have been a casualty of the attack?” Celestia asked.

“For now I think nothing.” Luna picked up the green rock in her aura and conjured a lead box around it. “This rock is enchanted. To what end I know not.”

Celestia took the box in her own aura. “I'll take it to the university and have them examine it.”

“And these would appear to be grievers,” Luna said, taking two pieces of metal in her aura. “What is the creature's shape?”

“Bipedal. Straight spine. About the size of a diamond dog. Handed arms and supple feet.”

“Ah. Definitely grievers then. And that would make this a gauntlet, and this a . . . boot, I believe the word is.” Slowly, Luna pieced the larger pieces together until she had a rough shape. “It is an armor,” Luna said at last.”

Celestia pursed her lips together. “Are you sure?”

“Reasonably.” She placed a hoof onto the chest piece. “This is not apparel worn for dancing, Sister. It is worn for war. The important question to ask, for war with whom?.”

Luna turned back to find her sister had put on her mask, staring at the curious collection with cold indifference. “We will make no assumptions, Luna. The lands and seas beyond the everfree are largely unexplored and populated by many dangerous beasts. It is not implausible that he armed himself in order to traverse those lands safely.”

“Nor is it implausible that this creator of yours is the advance scout for an invading force,” Luna replied.

Celestia narrowed her eyes. “It is the Equestrian way to offer friendship to all those we encounter, and until evidence to the contrary appears, so too is it the case here.”

Luna shrugged. “As you wish. But I would like to see this creature, Sister.”

---

The subject has proven very receptive to our healing magic,” said Dr. Bonesaw as he led the pair of sisters to the creature’s suite in the medical ward. “But I don't think that it's going to be ready or even able to communicate any time soon.”

“How soon then do you believe the creature will be able to speak?” Luna asked.

The doctor opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “The subject is in an induced coma. The dermis has been regenerated fully, but a large quantity of what we think is glass has melted and fused into the eyes. We’ll have to find a way to remove it or else replace the eyes outright. And then there's the underlying damage to the nerves.”

“How awful,” said Celestia.

The doctor stopped still. “He’s right through here, Your Majesties.”

“Is the creature cognizant?” asked Luna.

“As I said before, the subject has been remarkably receptive to our healing spells. With continuous treatment he may be restored to consciousness within the week. But to awaken him now would put him in terrible agony.”

“Duly noted, Doctor,” Luna said. “But I do not need the creature to be conscious; I need it to be cognizant.”

Bonesaw looked back and forth between Luna and Celestia. “I . . . I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Can he dream,” Celestia said simply.

Comprehension flooded the doctor’s features. “Oh! I-I suppose he could. Yes! Most certainly!”

“Good,” Luna said. “You are dismissed, Doctor. I have no further need of you.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Always happy to be of service.” The stallion bowed curtly and trotted off.

“Ever the diplomat, Luna.” Celestia remarked.

Luna ignored her, and pulled aside the curtain, revealing the creature.

Luna’s first thought was of a large, hairless rat. The creature laying on the table was completely pink, and completely devoid of hair. It’s face was repulsively flat and squished together. White bandages covered its eyes.

“Well, do you know what it is?” Celestia asked from behind her.

Luna shook her head. “No. I have never any creature such as this before.” Her eyes fell between the creature’s legs. “External penis and testacles. A rarity in this part of the world. I doubt that it is native to Equestria.” She pressed her nose to its skin. “Warm Blooded. Soft Skinned. It is mammalian.” She grasped one of the creature's arms in horn and held it up. “It does not appear to have talons or claws on its hands.” She lifted its feet. “Very supple feet indeed, Sister. The creature is very likely indigenous to flatland.”

“But is he dangerous?” Celestia asked.

Luna cocked an eyebrow. “Every animal is dangerous under the correct circumstance, Sister. The question is whether he is dangerous to us.”

She lifted the creature’s head up and pried its lips open. “Curious . . .”

“What?” Celestia brought her head closer to its mouth.

“The creature’s teeth are mostly flat—not unlike a pony’s—but do you see the two teeth on either side of the two front teeth?”

“Yes?”

“They are sharper. Pointed. They are the teeth of a predator. This creature is probably descended from a race of scavengers. Able to subsist on both plants and meats.”

“What does that mean?” Celestia asked.

Luna shrugged. “Impossible to say. But interesting nonetheless.”

Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Luna smiled. “I take my pleasures where I may.”

She lowered the creature’s head softly, and pressed her horn to its forehead.

It was raining in the dream, but Luna took no pleasure in flying through it. It tasted rank, not unlike blood, and radiated the unlovely warmth of summer night. She was in a city. Not a city of marble like Canterlot, but stone and glass, like Manehatten. How curious, Luna thought, as she flew above paved streets and between stone spires. She hadn't known what to expect upon entering the creature’s mind, but it surely had not been this.

This dreamscape was far larger and more detailed than most. All around her she could see the evidence of the dream’s exquisite detail: the cracks in the stone buildings and windows. Roiling dark clouds filling the sky above her; lightning shearing through the clouds on its way to the ground below; thunder bellowing its victorious roar. A vast and detailed cityscape that stretched out in front of her; a sweeping labyrinth of roads and alleyways below her. It was truly something.

Luna could sense the creature’s presence some distance away, which was also surprising. Usually the dream’s epicenter was the dreamer, and everything beyond a certain distance away from the dreamer held no more substance than fog. She banked right, towards a brightly lit palace, to where she felt the creature’s presence.

She landed in the street with a dull splash, and after pausing shortly to again marvel at the lucidity of the demimonde, trotted briskly off. Something was strange about this creature’s mind, she thought as she crossed a street on her way towards a darkened alleyway. She could usually tell at a glance what lay within a being’s heart the moment that she entered their mind. But this one’s mind was still closed off to her. Guarded. Almost as if—

Luna froze mid-stride. In the center of the alley way, was a round mass of pulsating, roiling black. A shivering sphere of darkness. Nightmares. Dozens of them. More than she had ever seen in a single dream. Swarming like parasprites atop carrion. Curiouser and curiouser.

Luna moved closer to the swirling mass of nightmares. If they noticed her they gave no sign. They were gorging themselves, Luna realized. So intent were they on their feast that they did not even realize that Luna was there. She lowered and lit her horn to wipe the wretches from existence . . . and paused. What could be so enchanting to these nightmares that would drive them to such a frenzy?

Luna touched the nightmares with her consciousness.

putthatdownsorrydaddybatsbirthdayicecreamalfredparkrowstrangergunshotpearlsfallingtothestonebabyscrymommyscreamingblooddeathbatsbatsbatsmommypleasewakeuppleasewakeupmommypleasemommymommymommybatsbatsbatspleasewakeupmommywearecomingforyoulittleboytofeastonyourpainandsufferingandtormentyourmommysdeadwekilledheryoukilledhertheykilledherandshesnevercomingbackandtheworldwillburnindarkenessandlaughandlaughandlaughhahahahahahahayourmommysdeadyourmommysdeadyourmommysdeadyourmommysdeadyourmommysdeadYOURMOMMYSDEAD!

“ENOUGH!” Luna screamed in the Royal Voice, incinerating most of the cravens and scattering the rest. Luna shook herself and blinked tears out of her eyes. The pain. The torment. So raw. Like an open wound eternally bleeding. It was no wonder that the nightmares had been drawn so. Such pain. Unhealed. Marinated by the festering of time. I would have smelled like a feast of delicacy.

The last remnants of the nightmarish penumbra faded into the natural shadow, and Luna looked upon the creature.

It was a child. Small and frail, and covered in blood. He was dressed in finery: a suit and tie, not unlike the nobles of Canterlot proper whence they took leave of their dwellings. He was sobbing and grasping onto the limp form of another creature. An adult. His mother. Luna knew at once that she was his mother. Just as she knew that the dead body laying next to her was the boy’s father. Without the nightmares’ obfuscating presence, she saw far too clearly.

Once long ago, Celestia had given one of her students a rabbit as a gift. The foal had taken the rabbit everywhere she went—holding the snow-white hare in either hoof or horn. The foal had loved the rabbit, as only one with the unbridled heart of child could love anything. The foal had loved her rabbit so much, that she had unintentionally smothered it to death. The child before her now was grasping at his dead mother as that foal had grasped the dead rabbit: with the incomprehension that what you love is no more, and that love of all things, could cause such torment.

Luna knew what she had to do.

There was a flash of light, and it was done.

Luna held up her hand to examine it, bending the fingers experimentally. The child—the boy—had not noticed her, but no matter.

Luna put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

She felt him stiffen, and then he looked up at her. His eyes were blue as the spring sky, red and swollen from crying. When they saw her they went wide. He uttered a single word which Luna did not know but required no translation. The mother’s dead body disappeared in an instant, and the boy threw his arms around her, sobbing with a hysterical mix of horror and elation.

“Do not worry, little one. I am here. I will watch over you. I will protect you.”

Luna stood there, in the guise of the boy’s mother, and held him.

Author's Note:

Thanks to PaulAsaran for his help with this chapter.

Comments

[badninja]

We all know that this is all Batman really ever needed but if she is going to try and heal him it will take more then a few treatments and boy will Luna need help from helping Batman. Great chapter and glad to see this story back!

[HIEfan]

Ok, she caught him with his "Shields" down, Batmans mind is usally coverd by friggin iron walls, whomever did this must have really messed him up, so bad that even his mental blocks are down.

[Jarimor]

oh that wont end well....

[Awesomo3000]

So this is how Luna met Bruce? Deep...

[Worthy King]

Can't wait for more

[NiXioX]

I thoroughly enjoy everything about this story; the writing, the presentation, the characterization, the life and detail you've brought to bear. Everything. I would absolutely love to read every bit of text you can come up with for this tale. If you ever decide to resume this, you can definitely expect me to follow it intently.

[Gizmo Gear]

Sooooo, was this a sort of flash beck to six months ago? Ooooorr...........