The Nightmare Night Knightmare

by Wings of Black Glass

Knightmare's Daughter

“Mommy!” The little filly ran to my side, crying so hard she almost wailed. There she curled up around my leg and trembled, her little wings shaking so hard she couldn’t even fold them. “I was so scared!”

“Skybright?!” I nuzzled the little Pegasus and used my nose to wipe away some of my child’s tears. “What happened?” The frightened child couldn’t catch enough breath to answer, and I turned my attention to the two Pegasus guards who had brought Skybright home. “Well?” They snapped straighter when my temper flares nearly to a shout.

“Lady Knightmare.” One quickly saluted me. “She was found nearly halfway up the mountain, alone, hanging onto a small branch and screaming for help.”

“What was she doing up there?!” After the shock of seeing my daughter escorted home by a pair of guards my anxiety nearly boils over, and I have to hold myself quiet while they explain.

“We don’t know, ma’am. But we brought her right here, asap, once we got her down.”

“Sigh,” I said the word aloud, an old habit, “thank you for bringing her home, you two get back to your routes.” The two Pegasai saluted me again before they turned away. I shut the front door with my nose and looked down at my daughter. Skybright’s sky blue body was still quaking, her short yellow-and-white-striped mane clinging to her tiny frame. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up, and then you can tell me what got you halfway up the mountain.” The little filly hiccuped as she tried to catch her breath.

Forcibly, I escorted her to the bathroom with a concerned frown on my face. Skybright’s forelimbs failed to hang onto her towel, and I sat in front of her as I took the towel with my own mouth to clean her up myself, holding the still trembling filly close as I did. Snot and tears dripped from her face for a few minutes more until she got her fear under control.

“There.” I dropped the towel on the sink, my own pale white reflection now dirtied by the effort of cleaning my daughter. “Feel better?” Skybright gasped a few deep breaths and the trembling started to still. “Now, are you ready to tell me what you were doing?”

“Th-the others were calling me names. Tailbrain and flapbutt… and worse.” The hairs on my neck rose along with my anger towards these bullies.

“So what did you do about it?” I almost hissed it, but held myself in check, not wanting to give my daughter the wrong idea.

“I didn’t want to get in a fight.” I nodded approvingly even though Skybright didn’t see it, she was looking down at her own hooves. “So I tried to tell them off. But they followed me, and said I’d never be a good flyer.” The filly hesitated a moment, biting at her lower lip. “I had to prove them wrong, and bet them I could get all the way up the mountain’s scar on my own.”

“The scar!” I gasped. “You know you shouldn’t go up there! It’s too high for you!” Skybright flinched, and I had to collect myself before I snapped out again.

“I thought I could make it. But it kept going up, and up and up.” The filly shuddered again, and I pulled her close, my daughter’s heart beating like a drum against my forelimb. “I landed on a little tree to rest and see how high I’d gone. When I looked down, the ground was so far away. My wings froze up, and I got dizzy.” She started to cry again, unable to finish the story. It didn’t matter, the rest was easy to guess. She’s never flown that high before, the fear of falling must have frozen her to the core.

“Shh, shh… it’s OK now. You’re home, and safe.” I brushed my hoof down her mane, calming her. I can understand the fear of heights, it used to be a terror of my own.

“I tried to be brave, like you.” Skybright hiccuped a few times. “You aren’t afraid of anything.” I almost laughed at how little the filly knew.

“Oh, Skybright.” I set the filly down on her own legs and lead her out into the living room. “I’m more familiar with fear than you might think.” Now it was my turn to hesitate. “He’s an old enemy of mine, one who used to follow me everywhere.” The filly tilted her head to one side, quizzical. I pat the sofa and Skybright obligingly flitted onto it to sit beside me.

“I don’t get it. Fear isn’t a pony, is it?”

“You’re right, of course. Fear isn’t any real creature.” I chuckled. “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t make my life miserable, always pushing me down and holding me back.” I let my eyes come to rest on the pictures over the fireplace, of old friends and family. Some of the ponies in those pictures have been gone a long time. “There was a time in my life when I was afraid of pretty much everything.” My gaze slid to my daughter, only to find Skybright’s face full of slack-jawed disbelief. “My name wasn’t always Knightmare.”

“Your name? Really? Ponies can change names?”

“Sometimes.” I glanced at the picture of Shadow Tempest, who tried to teach me how to fight. “When I was younger my name was Fragile Flower.” I saw Skybright mouthing the words, and screwing up her nose trying to imagine her steel-willed mother as fragile.

“How did that happen? How did you get a new name?”

“It’s a scary story.” I grinned down at my daughter. “Are you sure you want to know?” The filly nodded vigorously, she might be afraid of heights, but not nightmares. “Alright then, don’t say I didn’t warn you. This was before you were born, even before I met your father.” I pulled Skybright close with my forelimb. “It all happened one dark day, on the celebration of Nightmare Night…”