Chap. 3 - Perchance to Dream
To Sleep, Perchance to Dream Chapter 3
--Georg (Editing by AlicornPriest)
To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.
Hamlet (3.1.64-98)
Fits and starts of sleep was all that came to her now. The constant commotion as the castle prepared for the upcoming Gala only two nights away continued to awaken Luna even in her shielded room with two pillows over her head. Perhaps if she were to leave the room for a bit, she thought. Somepony could replace the window and shut out the noises from outside. And replace the curtains so Celestia’s sun would not shine so brightly into her room.
It was the work of an hour to get a hoof out of the comfortable bed, a second hour to bring the other three along, and nearly fifteen minutes to actually stand up with a prodigious yawn. “Good night, my one and only friend in this life,” she said, patting the softly tempting and fluffy mattress. “I shall return shortly to make your acquaintance once more.”
The Princess of the Night took little care preparing for the day other than to make certain the Royal Accoutrements were correctly in place. There were more than one servant, and at least one foalish Night Guard who reacted negatively to seeing their Princess less than fully dressed, she reflected. Despite her fatigue, she made certain to hold her head high and regal as she exited the Royal Bedchambers and addressed the guards outside.
“Guard. I have need of a walk about the castle to stretch my legs.” The regal mask slipped for a moment as she tried to think of what day it was, other than ‘Sometime after noon’. “Are there any activites ongoing that I might attend in proper form?”
Oh no, he wasn’t going to do it, she thought. It was so crude, so disgusting, oh no he was really going to... The Day Guard scratched his white head with one hoof while thinking. At least he had the sense to remain standing on three legs, instead of crashing to the floor.
“Well, Your Highness. There is a planning meeting for the Gala organizers in about an hour in the Butterfly Ballroom. Princess Celestia is supposed to preside over it, but every year she winds up getting stuck at Court until it’s over. If you so desire, I shall inform them you are attending in her stead this year.”
When swine fly and turtles tapdance, she thought coldly while trying to maintain her Royal Composure. If she had known release from the moon had included being trapped for hours listening to the high society ponies discuss the relative values of floral arrangements, she would have — she wrenched her thoughts away from the everpresent idea. Take the power sounded a whisper in her mind, an echo from a dream.
“No, We think not.” She shook her head, remembering where she was and looked back at the guard. “It is her place, We would not intrude. What else.”
The concept of rejecting Death By Planning Meeting seemed to bounce off the Guard like an arrow off armor, to be replaced by yet another slightly-less idiotic idea. “Oh, I know. The Princess said she had made arrangements with the Royal Dressmaker to see if they could make you a gown for the upcoming event.”
Luna looked blankly at the Guard, wondering just how he managed to have forgotten the actual name of the Grand Galloping Gala, but decided not to press the subject. “Yes, that would be acceptable for us. While we are gone, have someone repair the window in my room. And clean up.”
The Royal Dressmaker’s area was a leisurely half-hour stroll through the castle, tucked away in a less-traveled quarter and bearing signs of recent renovation. Inside there were a half-dozen servants working their hooves off when Luna was properly announced by her bodyguard.
“All Hail Her Highness, Princess Luna, Diarch of Equestria and Princess of the Night!” The guardspony had gotten better at his job announcing Her Royal Presence, she mused as she proceeded regally into the small room with nearly a dozen dressmaker dummies scattered about in no particular order. The half-dozen servants remained bowing while a slightly-tubby dark red pony with a greying coppery mane scurried over at her entrance and flattened down in a full bow, arising only after he had kissed the Royal Hoof as proper protocol indicated.
“Your Highness! I am so glad to see you here today, we had nearly given up hope that we would have time to properly garb you before the festivities. I am Rusty Pin, Royal Seamstress.” The earth pony with the silver straight pin cutie mark seemed to giggle nervously whenever he talked, and danced from place to place in his shop with his weight only on the tips of his hooves. It was all rather distracting, but she attempted to make the best of it. She looked around the shop at the dressmaker dummies scattered about the room. There were nearly a dozen outfits in various stages of completion, but none of them seemed to be very...Celestia sized.
“Mr Pin, my sister has decreed that you shall have the honor of garbing me for the upcoming festival. We command you to show us the clothing you have prepared for your Princess of the Night.”
There was a nearly inaudible squeak of joy as Rusty Pin presented a nearby dummy clothed in midnight blue and silver, a magnificent gown that set off her own indigo coloring favorably and swept the floor with great majesty. And probably mopped and waxed it too from all the weight of fabric that went into its sturdy construction, as well as the distinct possibility of steel beams and concrete. It gave her a great and long-forgotten pleasure to reject the design as unsatisfactory. It had been many years even before her exile since she had actually attempted to...shop. And rejecting the offers was the best part.
The second dress just as pleasurable to reject; it would have taken a dozen strong servants to get her strapped and laced into the black monstrosity, and with the high collar, the Guard would have to guide her like an animal, since she would have been only able to see directly ahead. She lingered over the rejection as if it were a fine glass of cider, bringing up just enough attention to make Rusty Pin lean forward in anticipation, then crushing his overblown ego. It made her feel light on her hooves again. Even before Nightmare Moon, it had been many many years since she and Celestia had browsed the dressmakers, and her sister had never gotten the art of the Royal Hope Crushing quite to the level that Luna practiced. It was a competition between them she could always win.
And the third one was...Red. Not just any red, but a blood-red hue that lay across the dressmaker’s dummy like a bloody corpse with black crepe ribbons for intestines, a wafting flow of exsanguination and burned flesh that brought the smell of that murderous night back to her nostrils. Luna recoiled in horror, trying not to think of Nightmare Moon and the horrible night her sister confronted her with the Elements of Harmony. So much blood, so many blackened and dead bodies. She wrenched her thoughts away and stared at the door into the shop, and the one Day Guard who had the decency to look somewhat concerned.
“Perhaps Her Royal Highness would consider—” Rusty Pin cut off abruptly at the thunderous expression on Princess Luna’s face and tried to think of words that would not end badly.
A feminine voice from the shop asked, “How about this one, Your Majesty.” Luna turned to the voice, but the sharp response she had framed for the misuse of the incorrect royal title melted off her tongue as she saw the ethereal floating dress the young pegasus mare carried. Light delicate strands of diamond flecked thread floated through a web of gauzy layers; from the hock to the flank it seemed to be almost translucent, with glowing bits and sparks that resembled a nebula streaming out from the birth of a star. Luna was speechless from awe. She did not want to even levitate the dress out of the hooves of the servant for fear of breaking the spell.
“I-I wanted to make something that you...that would show the world your true majesty.” As Luna tore her eyes away from the dress and looked at the servant, the compliment she was about to speak dried up in her mouth like dust. The young Night Pegasus mare looked back at her with admiring golden cat-like eyes, her sleek black coat shimmering in the dressmaker’s shop lights and her leathery wings tucked back along her flanks underneath an immaculately tailored cloak.
“My name is Laminia, My Princess. I’ve heard so much about you! My family told me stories about the Creation, about how you blessed our kind with sight and power in the night. When I heard you would be attending the Gala, my sole desire was to create a masterpiece that would make you proud. Something that all the stuck up highborn would look at and know that you truly are the Goddess of the Night.”
Luna remained frozen in place, her face a mask that concealed the chaotic thoughts that churned her insides into glass and ice while the Night Pegasus mare babbled on. “All the major designers will be attending, and since the Princess of the Sun never wears anything to the Gala more elaborate than her Accoutrements, we never get to truly showcase our skills.” She stroked the fabric, causing the stars to ripple like an Aurora Borealis and points of starfire to glitter in the darkness. The beauty was all lost to Luna as her mind was fought an inner battle with her memory.
Her creation of the Night Pegasi a millenia ago had been fueled by Nightmare Moon’s power, drawn from the forbidden depths of the Everfree Forest. When that dark power was removed by the Elements of Harmony and she was returned to the castle by her sister, it had seemed to only be a dream she could leave behind and forget ever happened.
Until she met her Night Guards.
Every night since she had been reminded of their reality as the Night Pegasi made up a large portion of her Royal Guard. They stood by her constantly as she attempted to carry out her Royal Duties, a fearsome and persistent memory of her failure. She lived in mortal fear that someday she would see one of the earth ponies or unicorns she had converted while under that terrible majestic power. It was a unsubstantiated fear, she had seen all of her followers wither and die during that terrible fight as if it were yesterday. She had no idea how the Night Pegasi had avoided being consumed by her dark powers, devoured in a frantic blast of power when Nightmare Moon had fought Celestia. When her own sister had used the Elements of Harmony to exile her to the moon. When she had killed her own ponies. When she had become a murderer.
The room seemed to come back into focus as she heard a word in Laminia’s babbling.
“Rarity?” Luna blinked. “The Element of Generosity will be at the Gala?”
“Oh, all of the Element Bearers will be there. Loyalty, Magic and the others. Rarity is supposed to have created display pieces for all of them. Although...” She stroked the fabric again with a sea of rippling stars. “They will all look like rags compared to our Queen of the Night garbed in a dress this powerfu—”
Luna burst out from the dressmaker’s shop at a velocity far in excess of the assigned Guards and flew through the castle as if she were pursued by all the legions of Tartarus, stopping only when she reached her room and slammed the door behind her, this time making a noise loud enough to satisfy even her.
An hour later, Princess Celestia sat in her private receiving room gently removing tissues from a box and handing them over to a sobbing Night Pegasus mare. A rap at the door preceded the entry of one very groggy Night Guard escorted by a older Day Guard whom the Princess nodded at in recognition.
“Sergeant Stonehammer. Stay.” Celestia looked quizzically at Pumpernickel. “Again?”
The Night Guard caught himself before bowing. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I live closest to the castle, so I was the first one they found.”
She sighed. “Very well. You all know I am very concerned about my sister Luna, and this afternoon I’m afraid she may have taken a very strong turn for the worse.” The Princess of the Sun seemed to dim as she looked down at the floor. “And I’m responsible.”
“Harrumph,” grumbled the older Guard. “Pish posh and fiddlesticks. Princess, you’ve done everything you can for your sister—”
“That’s the point,” she said, interrupting the old stallion. “I’ve been at her side every day since Nightmare Moon was defeated. She is wallowing in guilt because she thinks she betrayed me, and now she thinks I don’t trust her, and nothing I say or do seems likely to change that. My very presence is disturbing her and chipping away at her mind. I can not send her away to live elsewhere, and I can not run away myself, which would make things worse because she would think I was afraid of her either way. Which I am not.”
“So why are you bringing the Elements of Harmony to your party tomorrow night?” snuffled Laminia. “You’re afraid she’s going to turn into Nightmare Moon again, and you want them here to stop her and put her back in the moon again. That’s why she ran.” The Night Pegasus mare burst out in tears again and buried her head in a clump of tissues.
The Princess of the Sun leaned into the young mare and sympathetically covered her with a wing. “No, I don’t. No matter what she may think, my sister does not have a bit of that horrible monster in her. I most certainly do not need to bring Twilight and her friends to use the Elements again. They are just going to be here because it’s a party. I am thankful they released my beloved sister from her imprisonment, so it is the least I can do to show my appreciation.” Celestia paused. “Perhaps they can even free my sister from the prison of her own mind with the friendship they show each other. I certainly hope so, and I’m willing to give it a chance. I’m afraid it may be my last opportunity."
* * *
As Pumpernickel walked the young Night Pegasus back to her house in the harsh afternoon sunlight, he could not help but puzzle at the edges of the problem with Laminia.
“Do you think Princess Luna....do you think it will do her good to go to the Gala?”
The young Night Pegasus mare shook her head sadly. “No. You did not see her in the shop. She hides it well, but she is terrified, I think, of herself. Before I thought it was a wonderful idea, her gliding across the dance floor in my beautiful gown, getting to know the cream of Canterlot Royalty. When she bolted....If that were to happen at the Gala, she would never recover.”
“Do you think the Princess is truly afraid of her sister?”
Laminia shook her head. “I cannot imagine Princess Celestia being afraid of anything.”
“Wrong princess.”
“Oh.” The mare walked with her head cocked to one side while thinking. “Why?”
“I have an idea. If the reason for this depression of hers is because Princess Luna is afraid of her sister, then every day she is in her presence just makes it worse. She needs a break, away from here. Somewhere she can find herself.”
The mare rolled her eyes. “You heard Princess Celestia. If she sends Luna away, or leaves herself, that will just make our Princess worse. How can they be separated if they don’t leave?”
“But. What if Luna were to leave on her own. Go away for a while. Away from her sister and everything associated with her.”
Laminia shook her head until her mane rustled. “No, wherever she goes, she will have guards. She must have guards to protect her. And she knows those guards have sworn loyalty to Celestia, they would be a constant reminder.”
"Perhaps. I have an idea."
* * *
Just after midnight that night, Princess Luna was awakened from a fitful doze by a familiar light tapping on the door. At first she attempted to block it out, but it continued until she snapped, “Go away.”
“Princess of the Night,” came a relatively quiet familiar voice. “Your subjects hereby request an audience with you about issues of the greatest importance.”
A cold prickling traveled up Luna’s spine as she heard the familiar phrase. “Go away,” she called out weakly. “You know not what you request.”
“By ties of blood and bone we are your subjects. Your magic created us, we live to serve you. A second time we call out to you, hear our plea.”
“No,” she whispered, hiding under the covers. “Do not do this. Please.”
“Our lives are yours to command. We live or die at your word. A third time we call out to you, hear our plea.”
Long moments passed, then there was an almost inaudible click as the door to Luna’s bedchamber swung open, revealing the Princess of the Night standing in the doorway, fully dressed with all the accoutrements of office. With expressionless eyes she looked at the two score of Night Guard lying prostrate in the hallway, all with faces placed firmly against the cold stones.
“Arise, and speak. Your Princess of the Night will listen.”
Pumpernickel got carefully to his hooves, and knelt at the feet of Luna, Princess of the Night, followed by the rest of the Night Guards at his flank. “All of your people in your Night Guard have discussed this, and we all are in agreement. If you so desire, we shall discontinue our allegiance to Princess Celestia and swear exclusive loyalty to you, as our Queen.”
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Ooh, I can't wait to see how Celestia reacts to this.
The dressmaker batpony....so cute and so sad.
When Luna rejected her I basically saw her life flash before my eyes. Becoming a dressmaker despite being a batpony, living to see Luna come back, making a dress for the gala, giving it to her... Luna running away.
Hah. Let Celestia deal with that mess.
Hooboy. Laminia, girl, you seem to have the Art of Saying the Wrong Things While Looking Starry-Eyed down pat
Compared to Rarity'd designs? Wow. Someone sure is full of herself
Then, she kicked out the poor ponies replacing her window
Two score? How on earth did forty ponies cram themselves into a hallway?
...you complete morons. It's obvious that it's your very creation and existence that's causing her anxiety. You're as much a reminder of NMM to her as the Bearers of the Elements at the Gala
Remarks and corrections:
> I am Rusty Pin, Royal Seamstress.
"Seamstress" is female. If this is a male, just "tailor" seems more appropriate.
See also, http://www.realmofthewombat.com/2011/11/16/what-is-a-male-seamstress-called/
> “How about this one, Your Majesty.”
I think that should have a question mark.
That ending scene kicked serious flank.
Poor Luna.
This is a beautifuly written paragraph. My writer skills are in awe.
10395520 Oh, I've written better. This is actually the first place where I wrote Pumpernickel's Plea, although I think Monster in the Twilight is where it worked the best. Even Dust Storm, an actor in Baltimore gets to use it against Luna in Letters. (Seems to be the proverbial 2x4 used to get the attention of a particularly stubborn alicorn)