Chapter 3
Resist. Feeling conflicted, Princess Luna knew that going to sleep was the only way to sort this out, but she did not want to go to sleep. The feeling of violation was still with her from her last dream. That dream had been different than all of the dreams previous, and Luna hoped that it was not a sign of things to come.
Luna was terrified of a future of dreams where that sort of violation happened and she had no power, no means to protect herself, no method available to make it stop. An unwilling thought crept into her mind, a dark and horrible thought, a bleak and depressing thought.
Humans had short lifespans. This was bound to end in some form or another.
“Okay Luna… using the mirror, I’ve made a sort of catch-all that I hope will work to detect dimensional rifts. I don’t actually know if this will work just yet, so we might not get it right on the first try… or it might not work at all. But if this works as I hope it will, we might be able to detect dimensional protrusions as realities begin to overlap. Maybe. If all goes well. If it all goes bad, I might cause reality to collapse in upon itself.”
“What?” Luna turned to look at Twilight Sparkle.
“Oh… did I say that last part out loud? I’m sorry… that was supposed to be my internal dialogue. Don’t worry, the chances of that are so infinitesimally small…” Twilight lapsed into a nervous titter. “It only took me two tries to calculate them instead of taking dozens of attempts to determine the miniscule odds, so, uh, nothing to worry about, I assure you.”
Blinking, feeling alarmed, Princess Luna did not feel reassured by Twilight Sparkle’s words. This was not the sort of calm, comforting conversation that was conducive to a good sleep. There was more nervous laughter from Twilight Sparkle and a sheepish grin as well. Looking at Twilight, Luna did not feel as optimistic about this as she should.
“Twilight, do you think it is possible for humans to have magic?” Luna asked as she watched Twilight scribble something down inside of a notebook. “Strong magic I mean. Sorcery. I know what happened to you on the other side of the mirror, but this seems different somehow. I do not know how to put it into words.”
The quill ceased to move and the faint scratching sound it produced went silent. Twilight lifted up her head, her expression thoughtful. “Humans have stories about magic, magical creatures, wizards, they even tell stories of unicorns and pegasi, but they stopped believing in magic, or most of them did, and magic seemed to go away as human belief gave way to rationalism. I don’t know… it doesn’t seem rational to to refuse to believe in magic.”
“What if human beings still had magic, some of them anyway, but did not know how to control it? Like a unicorn foal with reflexive magic.” Allowing herself to be distracted, Luna began to look at the many books in the room. So many different colours of bindings, so many titles, so many names.
Books allowed an author immortality, of a sort. A collection of thoughts arranged into words, a means to communicate and share ideas even after death had claimed them. Books were a magic all their own.
“I suppose anything is possible.” Twilight tilted her head sideways as she pondered Luna’s question. “I used to scoff at the idea that friendship could be magical.”
Moving, her head held low, Princess Luna began to pace around the bed that Twilight Sparkle had moved into the portal chamber. The fresh bedding smelled of lavender and hibiscus. Looking at the bed, Luna felt her stomach tighten. It was like having centipedes crawl over the soft, tender, exposed flesh of one’s belly, little prickles, hundreds of them, a lingering sensation of pure ickiness.
Much like a recalcitrant foal, Princess Luna did not want to go to bed.
Sensing Luna’s hesitation, Twilight Sparkle’s face became pinched with fretful concern. Splaying out sideways, Twilight’s ears expressed her inner emotions and her eyes appeared to be as heavy as her ears. Her whole face was tugged down by the invisible weight of fear and worry for Luna. She took a single step closer, her drooping tail sliding around her hind legs as she moved forwards, and then she stood with her front hooves almost touching one another, her neck bowed, and her posture, combined with her facial expression, made Twilight appear to be struggling to stand up.
As Luna stared at the bed, she realised she had something in common with Maeve. A fear of going bed, a phobia of what might happen next once the body settled down against the soft, smooth, cool sheets that slid against the skin as one slipped between the mattress and the blankets. With this realisation, the bed became a waiting maw, a hungry orifice waiting to devour Luna, swallowing her and sending her down into the blackness.
Luna’s control over her emotions slipped, her guard dropped; she let out a fearful whimper, a soft pained sound that was very foalish, a wordless communication of fear, apprehension, and anxiety.
Hearing Luna, Twilight Sparkle felt her own spirits dropping. This seemed bad. Luna was afraid, and Twilight Sparkle had never known Luna to be afraid of anything.
“I’ll be right here to watch over you, Luna. I promise I will not leave this room, I will stay with you until you wake,” Twilight Sparkle said in a soft voice, the same voice that she used to reassure and comfort Spike when he was feeling dejected, hurt, or afraid.
It was a voice that few ponies ever heard.
When Luna at last worked up enough nerve to reply, her voice was shrill. “Thank you. The fear is overwhelming. I do not know if I can deal with it.”
There was the sound of claws tapping on the stone floor and Spike waddled forwards towards Luna, clutching a small, white stuffed pony in his arms. The dragon looked solemn, worried, but somehow brave as well. He approached Luna, raised his arms, and held the stuffed white pony aloft.
Her eyes narrowing, Luna saw that it was a small, stuffed Rarity doll. It appeared to be well loved, somewhat threadbare, and some of the velveteen had been rubbed away by many hugs.
“This always helps me feel brave,” Spike said, still holding the stuffed pony aloft, offering it to Luna. “Rarity made this for me, she said she made it so she would always be there for me when I needed her.”
Twilight Sparkle felt her eyes watering.
“I was listening outside of the door… I’m sorry… I was worried.” Spike felt his Rarity doll pulled from his claws and he gave it a final, loving pat as Luna took it.
“Thank you, Spike… of all of the dragons I have met, you are the most brave and most noble,” Luna said as she accepted the doll. She held it aloft, noticing how Spike had touched it one final time, and looked it over. The care and love that had gone into its creation was obvious. She saw the blankets pulled back from the bed, tugged by Twilight Sparkle’s magic. Closing her eyes, Luna took a deep breath. Opening her eyes, she climbed into bed, clutched the doll against her neck, got comfortable, and rested her head upon the pillow. She felt the blanket pulled over her. She watched as Spike climbed up into a chair not far from the bed, settle in, and get himself situated.
“We’ll both be here for you.” Twilight Sparkle hopped into the chair with Spike, squishing the dragon against the arm of the chair, and then pulled Spike close to her with her foreleg and wing.
Sighing, Luna settled herself into the cozy bed, glad to have two watchful guardians. With her eyes locked on Twilight Sparkle and Spike, she waited for sleep to claim her.
Luna did not wait very long.
There was an endless expanse of stars stretching in all directions. Luna found herself adrift in the horizonless sea space once more. The sensation of floating was pleasant, almost comforting. She saw Maeve floating beside her, laying on her back, staring upwards at the stars above them.
The silence seemed like an uncrossable chasm between them, at least for Luna.
Kicking her legs and waving her arms, almost as though she was swimming on her back through an unseen current, Maeve drifted closer to Luna, a sad smile upon her face. “I would give anything to come and visit your pony kingdom. I daydreamed about it in class today. I checked out a book about ponies, horses, and mythology from the library.”
“Had I the power, I would bring you to Equestria,” Luna replied in a somewhat strangled voice. She felt a painful tightness in her throat, a dull ache that she could not swallow nor make go away. “Is there no one you can turn to for help?”
“When I was a little girl, we came across the ocean on a steamer ship. We left our family behind, our old farm, our old lives. Now, I am the little red haired girl from across the sea that talks funny and has too many freckles. I spend too much time with my nose in books and all of my teachers worry about my overactive imagination.” Maeve’s face darkened and she looked troubled. “Everyone says my daddy is doing the best he can. It’s hard to be a widower. Not long after my mama died, I complained about my daddy drinking… and I got shamed real bad for it.”
Luna did not know what to say. She knew that Maeve still loved her father, even with all of his faults, even with the horrible things he was doing.
“Folk told me I had no gratitude for all the hard work my daddy does and how he works his fingers to the bone in the mill. When I complained about his drinking, I got a whipping in front of all my classmates.”
“Why? Why would anyone do that to you? What sort of world do you live in?” Luna asked, trying comprehend the barbarity of Maeve’s statement.
“My mother said the world is a good place, but I think she said that just to make me feel better. We just had a great world war where a whole bunch of men fought and killed one another and then there was a plague and now we’re heading for something called a depression and I don’t understand what it means, but it sounds bad, and we just had a depression just before the great world war,” Maeve replied.
Perplexed, Luna contemplated the word depression, wondering what else it might mean.
“We’re told not to complain. As children, we’re supposed to be seen and not heard. You do what you are told, you speak only when spoken to, and you obey the rules. If you don’t follow the rules, things go bad for you.”
“Your world sounds awful,” Luna said as she turned her head towards Maeve. “Is there no happiness? Is there nothing that brings you comfort? Do you have any means of solace?”
Maeve shrugged. “My daddy gave me a bottle of my mother’s perfume for being a good girl. Now when he hugs me he, he starts to sniff me and I can feel his beard against me and it tickles. I start laughing and he starts laughing and neither one of us have laughed much together since mama died. When I smell her perfume, I can close my eyes and it is like she is right there next to me, like she hasn’t gone away, and I feel happy.”
Feeling empty inside, Luna wished there was some way to fill the void. Then she thought about the girl smelling like her mother, and the full connotations of the girl’s father smelling her struck Luna like a physical force. She felt ill.
“Are there any other pony princesses?” Maeve asked, her eyes now bright and cheerful. “I imagine that there are… what are they like?”
“I have a sister, her name is Celestia. She is kind and good. There is Princess Cadance, she is the Princess of Love and she lives in a crystal castle. There is Princess Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship, she also lives in a crystal castle, and she is a librarian—”
“That sounds so perfect… like the best fairy tale ever. I wish I could see it. I wish it was real,” Maeve said as she pressed her hands into her cheeks and squeezed her face. She kicked her legs and closed her eyes. “Do you live in a crystal castle?”
There it was, the painful reminder that neither of them truly believed the other was real. For a moment, Luna had forgotten that Maeve might be just a dream, something intangible and out of reach, a bit of madness, a dream gone wrong. She had felt empathy for something that may or may not be real. This realisation caused Luna to overflow with melancholy despair.
“No Maeve, I do not live in a crystal castle. I live in a city called Canterlot. The castle I live in is made of white and pink marble, and—”
“And I bet you have a big luxurious bedroom at the top of the tallest tower, just like a beautiful fairy princess in one of my books!” Maeve looked at Luna, her green eyes were wide and glittering with happiness.
Sighing, Luna thought of her aerie. It was at the top of the second tallest tower. Luna now understood that any answer she might give would only add to Maeve’s fantasy, reinforcing the notion that this was all a pleasant dream, a distraction, a place she went to while she escaped from the horrible embrace of her father.
“The book I checked out said you can use chalk to draw doorways between this world and the world of the fairies… I wonder if I could draw a chalk door into the world of the ponies?”
“Maeve, it is my heart’s fondest wish that you could,” Luna replied, offering Maeve a brave smile.
“I wish I never woke up. I wish I could sleep forever and that this dream would never end. I wish I could be with you, you’re nice. But you're only nice because you’re a dream and I want you to be nice.” Maeve sighed. “The dream is still better than being awake though.”
“Maeve, while I am here, and we are dreaming together, there is something I want you to try to do… could you do it for me?” Luna asked.
“What is that?”
“Close your eyes, believe with all of your heart, and try to make something appear in your dream. It can be anything you want… just try to wish for something with all of your heart and soul, and then see if it appears.”
“Okay Luna… I can try…”
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Sooo... she's 19th century Irish?
OK I can buy that, Narnia time must be in effect. If that isn't the case, it still adds something to the story.
That dream had been different than all of the dream previous,
dreams
a beak and depressing thought.
bleak
She watched as Spike climbed up into a chair not far from the bed, settle in, and get himself situated.
Eh, not sure what you want to do on this one. from the bed, settle in, and get himself situated.
But your only nice because you’re a dream and I want you to be nice.”
you're
“The dream is still better then being awake though.”
than
I like where this appears to be going.
5977973
I see nothing wrong with the Spike part.
Help?
5977986
Eh, maybe it's just me but it reads funny, when you say out loud.
"She watched as Spike climbed up into a chair not far from the bed, settle in, and get himself situated."
It's the way it uses present tense on settle and get that throws me off, like I said it might be just me.
Like settle should be settled, but then get looks wrong, but changing it to got looks odd too XD
5978045
Might be a southern thing.
Go on, get over there and settle in.
Get in the back of the car and settle!
Did you settle in okay after the move?
5978057
Yeah it's just me, I get it now lol.
Sorry about the false alarm!
light chapter, took me a while to get the time to read this whole things
good way to make all people relax
i find this fic dark yet at the same time i want to read more of it
Hmm, a HiE story. . not sure if want.
Kudzu, I do respect that you made this story. You had an itch to write something, and you wrote it with full knowledge that the subject matter would make others uncomfortable. It's a wonderful and grim story so far, by the way.
5978437
No, this is a pony in the human world...
There is a difference.
5978739
Yes it is technically a Pony On Earth or POE story, my bad.
5978760
Quoth the pony, "Nevermore."
5978830
o.0
5978850
E. A. Poe, The Raven... just in case you didn't get the reference. POE/Poe.
5979109
So... are you basing this comparison on modern sexually aware little girls that are bombarded with sexual imagery and television and media from a young age, or are you basing this comparison from say, a little girl from the say, 1930s and 1950s America.
Maeve does not come from America, but from another place entirely, but this is a comparable milemarker for her psychological makeup.
Let's look at some clues, shall we? She came to wherever she currently lives on a steam ship. That is not at all modern technology. She is talking about a world war, two depressions, and a world that has just been decimated by a plague. This sounds similar to war era America. WWI came and it brought about a flu pandemic. We had a depression. We had another world war.
These are indicative of the times she lives in.
And then there are the other factors of her time, her era, and her psychological makeup. "Seen and not heard" being one of the big ones.
The girl seems perfectly normal when viewed with the proper perspectives.
She reads because there is no television. She still believes in fairy tales and princesses and fantasy.
Wait wait wait, is that a tear rolling down my cheek? The hell. I was suppose to be the asshole critic who took this fic with a grain of salt, acting like he's lived harder than anything this fic could throw at him. I rehearsed and everything! Fuck! Fuck!!! God... dammit. I remembered something sad because of this damn thing. The hell Kudz...
Oh goodness, Maeve's an Irish immigrant circa 1930. Because she didn't have enough problems.
Still, I can follow Luna's logic here. If she can't control the dream and she's sharing it with someone else, perhaps control over it has been transferred. Maeve's a smart one; she'll probably be able to pick it up quickly if she can bring herself to believe. We'll have to see...
5977920
I would say she born around the early XX. She mention the world war, the spanish flu after it, and heading to the depression... so i would say time is around middle 20s.
5979131
Not to mention people, in general, tend to be naive when they're going through such a traumatic time in life. No better way to run away from reality than to believe in a better life and dream it.
This girl seems very much real. This is why i like what you write.
5979131 from what ive got from the story so far its early world history after the first world war.. as for dates yours is as good as mine lol. its a shame her father treated her that way, maybe its an old woman who is mentally damaged reliving her childhood and is say in her last years trying to escape her reality.. either way im interested in where this story is going.
5980425 Ok. At that point in history I can believe an 11 year old would not know much if anything about sex.
You solved my problems. Thank you.
5977986
It could be phrased:
She watched as Spike climbed up into a chair not far from the bed, settled in, and got himself situated.
Then all the tenses would match.
Now i know why she has no clue what her dads doing to her, it's ninteen twenty sex ed wasn't a thing back then
Time out! "Steamer" "world war" "depression"... An Irish immigrant, escaping that artificial famine, stuck during the dustbowl. And raped by a widowed father. Well that's a sad life right there. But, now the story makes more sense. Yep, sadly, a lot more sense.
6454988 It's more than the Charleston that's being done, that's for sure.
Ugh...