The Night's Stars

by SC_Orion

Dreamwalk

The Dreamscape stretched out before her, teal and white and stars swirling together, reminiscent of the Plain of Ascension. Hundreds of tiny white orbs lazily floated by as if bubbles in an endless sea, each one a window into the dreams of some pony or another, and beyond them, the entire dreamscape glowed from the countless thousands, countless millions of ponies dreaming.

A dream drifted by, and another took its place, and in turn, that one drifted by for another, and another, to take its place, and so on it went as long as ponies slept in her moonless night. Each passing orb, a quick glance into whether their dreams were peaceful or troubled, or whether they dreamed at all.

Some came of fields and day, flowers and meadows and forests, blanketed with the radiant warmth of her Sister's sun, sheltered beneath a feeling of security, of hope, that the future would be better. Some came of better days and nights, long since past, long since forgotten, longed for, for when she was not and Sister was. Some came of starry nights, filled with the wonders of the aurora and nebulas and stars and watching distant storms sweep over the Equestrian heartland. Some came of flying, feeling the wind beneath their wings as they soared, crowned by the sun or moon, warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze.

Some came dreaming of other ponies. Fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, friends and lovers. Some came dreaming of wonders that made no sense to the waking mind, that she herself recognized but could hardly explain. Some came as nothing more than feelings of warmth and love and happiness that they radiated back out to others when they awoke. Some came as random series of events that had neither rhyme nor reason, yet to the sleeping mind, somehow made perfect sense-because they did not question it.

Some dreamed lucidly, shifting their dreams to the best of their abilities so that they could enjoy them more, though they were rare and always seemed to pop! and wink out of existence whenever they drew too near to her.

She called on her memories of how Luna had in the past, and by instinct, wove through the dreams, paying only cursory attention to them as she sought out the ones that felt wrong, and by instinct and with her magic, she turned to face the ones which were not dreams, but nightmares.

They came as shadowy orbs, some tinged red, though most weren't, radiating darkness yet always confined to their own little bubbles, unable to spread to even the nearest dreams no matter how hard they might try. They shot towards her, each one offering a window up to a sleeping pony's nightmares and fears. Few at first, then overwhelming in number. Hundreds. Thousands. More. And the dreamscape blackened as if tendrils of hardness had stabbed at the light to steal it away, to invoke an unnatural, primal fear upon all who had dreamed.

And she herself felt unease.

Yet none of those nightmares and fears were unfamiliar to her; she had seen each countless times before. She was intimately familiar with them; such was a part of her domain.

She bore the title, 'Guardian of Dreams.' And there was not one nightmare that could stand against her.

It did not matter what the nightmare was, nor who was having it. With the countless nightmares she had seen over the centuries, with her own intimate knowledge of waking nightmares and horrors she would not wish anypony to see, she could deal with whatever fears ponies dreamed up. Dragon attacks, darkness, being 'gotten' by something, loss, falling, drowning, and burning, she was familiar with so many nightmares. She had seen the nightmares of both foals and adults, of every pony who dreamed. Some pegasi had nightmares of their wings being clipped or ripped off. Some unicorns had nightmares of their magic failing them, or of their horns being shattered. Some earth ponies had nightmares of being too frail and weak to do anything, or their legs being cut off.

The first nightmares came the worst, those of young foals who were barely old enough to understand the world, and they came solely as being alone or having their parents stripped away from them. They cried out in terror, they cried out in crushing isolation, faced with that with which they were unfamiliar.

And it angered her.

Were they not innocent?

Were they not too young to face the realities of the world?

She would not let it stand!

She wrapped her magic around the nightmares and cast them aside, banishing them from the foals' minds! The nightmares tried to fight back, the foals too young to truly interact with her beyond seeing a glimpse of her in their minds, but she made them submit.

And the young foals' nightmares dispersed; the shadowy darkness clinging to the orbs which were their dreams exploded and brilliant, pure white light radiated from the orbs. Stars, yet more brilliant. Their terrors calmed, their fears eased, and they dreamed of their parents and their toys and their siblings and their friends, of meadows and flying and their homes and the day.

And to them, she was nothing more than a fleeting image like the afterglow of a teleportation spell.

Then came the nightmares of foals old enough to recognize her as the one who stole away their day and their princess, stole away their safety. They dreamed of her, of the night and of monsters, of being hunted and running from darkness and nothingness, of their parents not being there for them, and more. She wrapped her magic around their dreams and forced them to submit, and the nightmares had no choice but to obey and fade away, leaving the foals' dreams peaceful.

And to them, they felt her presence, saw her standing there for a fleeting second, and they remembered.

Then came the nightmares of foals about Applebloom's age. As the others, they came of her, and of loss, and of failure. Their family being torn away, being chased and hunted and cornered and trapped, and of her coming to get them. And she felt bitter and turned away from the nightmares.

'It does not matter what I do.'

'They will never feel anything else for me.'

'They will never think anything else of me.'

'To them, I am a monster.'

'And that will never change.'

She lashed out, taking her vengeance upon those foals' nightmares and destroying them just as quick as they came to her. They had no chance of resisting, no hope of continuing to haunt foals' minds, and submitted. In their place, the foals dreamed peacefully, fields and meadows, flying, using magic, their friends and family, days and the sun against their backs.

And they were old enough for her to interact with, old enough to remember and recognize when she was there, so she did not linger or step into their dreams, only root out their fears and terrors.

And on she continued. Every nightmare submitted with the same ease that she lifted a quill in her magic.

And on she continued, replacing each terror and fear with a peaceful dream that the sleeping ponies' minds thought up.

Then came the adults.

The poor had their nightmares of losing the little they had left and being left destitute in a cold, uncaring world. The wealthy, their nightmares of losing something frivolous. Parents had their nightmares of losing their foals-as foals had their nightmares of losing their parents. Some ponies had nightmares of disappointing others, and others, their nightmares of being caught doing wrong. Some had their nightmares of Discord, and most their nightmares of herself.

And she wrent each nightmare from the sleeping ponies' minds so that they would sleep peacefully!

Some had their nightmares of losing their friends, some of losing their livelihood, some of losing their pets and some of being abandoned. Some had their nightmares of failing those who counted on them, whether it be friend, patient, special somepony, or foal. Some had nightmares that were silly and misplaced, and some had nightmares that she did not wish on them. Some would wake up in tears, some would wake up screaming, and some wake up disturbed.

She crushed those nightmares so that they would not wake before their time!

And it was instinct to her, to hunt the nightmares as she had hunt monsters that preyed upon her subjects.

It did not matter what the nightmare was, it submitted.

And she had seen them all. She had been there in those nightmares to comfort them, to protect them when she was young. To banish those nightmares and give them peace so that they could rest. And yet the one constant in those nightmares, the one constant they recognized, was that she had been there.

And for it, ponies grew to despise and hate Luna.

But she was not Luna.

Another orb came to her, different from the others. Not quite a nightmare, not quite a dream, yet troubled. A feeling of despair and defeat that she herself recognized from the nigh-constant feeling she felt when she was awake. She peered into the dream; a foal sitting alone on the shore of a lake.

She wove her magic into the dream and stepped in, found herself standing behind the pegasus. She turned her head left and right, taking in the blurred trees and blurred cabin from which a haze of smoke wafted into the overcast sky.

With trepidation, she stepped towards the filly. With hesitance from fear born out of knowing how the foal would react, she set her forehoof on her shoulder.

The filly breathed in, and lifted her head, yet for a time, the filly did not look back at her. And then the filly turned to look back at her. Neither a smile nor a frown, neither fear nor joy. An empty expression.

The filly turned back away from her and looked at the lake.

She set her forehoof back on the ground. What was there for her to say? Nothing. Nothing more than a hollow promise that she could make things better, but they both would know it was a lie.

For what could she truly do when she was but one pony, and the world was set against her? For what could she do when an orphan faced the prospect that they would grow up never having been adopted?

And she hated it. She hated it as Luna had, hated it as Luna had hated the Griffins for making such orphans. Hated it for how wrong and vile it was. Hated the world for being so callous and cruel to the innocent.

And there was so little she could do.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not," the filly reprimanded.

She took her leave. Banished the despair from the filly's dream. Watched over her for a time, making certain that her thoughts returned to better times.

Still knowing, it was bittersweet for her at best.

A lie, nothing more.

And she turned away; the filly would awake crying.

And then the onslaught of nightmares continued. Dreams like the foals, so numerous and overwhelming that she dared not venture into them lest they break her.

She banished their fears and worries. She comforted them. But she could not be there for them when they awoke. She could not force ponies to love them as she could not force ponies to love her.

And she longed that the Crystal Empire would return, that the Crystal Heart would set things right. If not for her, then for some of the innocent, that they would know peace and love.

And another nightmare came to her as if seeking her out specifically. One of a middle-aged mare, filled with anger and hatred that she felt directed entirely at her, strong enough that she hesitated to venture into the nightmare.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," came a Royal Guard's somber voice as she peered into the shadowy darkness.

And the mare just screamed and cried.

"He was a good friend of mine."

And then came the casket: a pegasus stallion-her colt-laid in it, almost peacefully. So still that it seemed as if time were frozen. His body was adorned with the dress uniform of a Royal Guard Officer, decorated with medals including one denoting him as having served as one of her Sister's personal guards.

Another Royal Guard gave some speech, but neither her nor the mother knew what was said.

She stepped into the dream. Stood behind the mother. Slowly cast her gaze around. Recognized the funeral, to an extent. No father comforted the mother; she sat alone. Her friends kept their distance, and many more Royal Guards sat in the chairs as they attended the service.

And then the burial. The mother was presented with some case and a medal, and looked at it as if it were some betrayal of her entire being; the mother seethed with anger, then croaked a single sob and took it with her trembling wings. Again, a Royal Guard Officer spoke, and again, what was said went unheard.

They buried the officer she had killed with ceremonial rights and honor, and even as the Guard departed, the mother remained. Sobbing. Crying. Screaming. Trembling.

Uncomforted.

Everything she had.

Everything lost.

"I'm sorry." Her own voice.

The mother's head whipped around and the mare let out a snarl. "You!" And in an instant the pegasus slammed into her and kicked and hit and battered her chest with all her might, screaming and crying loud enough to hurt her ears. "You took him from me! You did this! This is all your fault!"

She stood and took it.

And then the mother collapsed at her hooves, sobbing and spent. "Why?"

And she had no answer for her, only guilt. Every part of her mind and body wanted to turn away from the mother, to leave the dream behind. She forced herself to stay, forced herself to watch the mother.

"He was all I had. Why?"

Were it another time, she could so easily see it as having come from a mother who had lost her foal who had fought alongside her against the Griffins.

Except now she was the monster, and the Griffins were not.

Nothing she said would matter to the mother. It would never be a good enough answer.

Nothing she said could bring her son back. It would never comfort her.

Nothing she said could change what she had done. It would never change.

More than a simple failure, more than a simple mistake: an innocent life she had stolen in her anger and hatred and bitterness. With hardly a thought, she had stolen away something she could never replace, something not akin to what Sister had done to Luna.

"I am sorry."

"That won't bring him back."

And nothing ever would because she was an arrogant, blind fool who had lashed out with no thought-just like how she had treated Twilight, but worse.

"I know."

She turned away from the mother, turned away from the nightmare, and banished it. In its place, the mother's mind gradually dreamed of a better time, when her husband and their colt were together.

And the nightmares continued.

Author's Note:

6/28/20

Draft started. 439 words.

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6/29/20

Wrote to 2,556 words. I'm not necessarily planning to continue writing a larger chapter here (aside from edits), since a nice short chapter would be... a good break.

Plus there's only so much I can do before it gets too repetitive... And it doesn't fit in with anything else.

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3/30/22

I still like this chapter.

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Comments

[MoonlightRift]

Oh my. Such a different chapter in comparison to the rest of the story, and I think it was all the better for it. This was entirely necessary for her to go through, to realize to what extent she's affected the ponies of Equestria. Wonderful as always.

[Stahlseele]

This is actually something i had not thought about before . .
If they all remember her having been there when they had nightmares, then of course over time they would start to connect and associate her with them.
Because they only see her as having been there and not as her having helped them.
That will lead to them despising her. Probably did so back then too.
I wonder if history would have played out like it did if she did not try to help everybody.
If she had just helped a few but taken more time then they might have learned of her helping them.
But of course then the majority would despise her for helping her chosen few and not the rest.
Poor Dreamy really can not win eh?

[WubsAndCellos]

I love it

[C0de]

It would be interesting to see her instead of bringing the day/night cycle back, instead perhaps doing a twilight/night cycle to reference Twilight and herself, associating the sun with the one she cares for instead of Celestia. It would also be a decent compromise at the start tbh

[Golden Sax]

I can't put this story down! I eagerly wait for the next update.

[Chillean]

This was a standout chapter, loved it