Recalcitrant
The dark alicorn had learned how to mitigate the disorientation which came when she exited the nightscape too quickly. It was something which could produce an extra moment of vulnerability and as such, she had to be capable of snapping back into the waking world at a moment's notice -- or, given the ways in which a crisis tended to come calling, somewhat faster. Alert, aware, already evaluating everything around her and ready to move. There was no other way to live, at least if you wanted the experience to continue.
It meant that all of her senses immediately retuned themselves to the now: the feel of her throne's cushions (thinner than those used by her sister) under belly and barrel, hoofsteps moving in a patrol pattern somewhere on the other side of the Moonrise Gate. She focused fully upon reality, and did so just long enough to determine that no true threat existed.
And with that done, the dark-hued body twitched. Curled up on itself, examined a wounded self-image, and waited for phantom bruising to fade. Something which her mind was doing its best to emboss onto her nerves as actual pain, and she had to block it. The artist's brush of the imagination was being applied to her inner self as figment poultices and potions. It helped.
The chimerical burns, however, were going to take a little more work. They only existed in her mind, as echoes of a final fiery scream seared into the dreamself. And yet it was the residue from some form of heat.
Sun's light had never burned her. (Irritated, yes, especially after extended exposure or schedule flips -- and her sister had a similar issue with Moon.) But heat -- that was the true vulnerability. When it came to temperature, each sibling negated the other's truest strength while embodying the greatest weakness. Moon's chill cancelled out Sun's flame and after that, it was a matter of which one was willing to push. There had been times when it had felt as if they had been made to hurt each other...
She forced herself to breathe. Slowly, until she could look at her own fur without seeing false blisters rising through strands of inner char. And even that failed to negate the greatest source of pain.
The alicorn knew what her final words had been, and they seared her from within.
I have to fix this...
The girl had only heard part of the sentence, and --
-- she sees herself as something flawed. Broken. Irredeemable. Defective. In every dream which places her as her present self, something wrong. Always.
But it's more than that.
A monster.
She heard me call her a monster...
Another breath. There was time for that: there had to be. She couldn't just rush down to the barracks and start saying whatever went through her head. The dream pain imposed by phantom sword and false flame had loosened her control over words, and that was some small part of what had led to this. And the girl's movements were tracked, because they had to be: even now, having a centaur unexpectedly cross the path of a palace guest had the potential to create a lesser crisis. She would be told if Cerea tried to go anywhere beyond the basement.
Luna did everything she could to center herself, and thought.
Fix this.
How?
Simply reciting the whole of the intended sentence wouldn't do it. The only way it would make sense to the girl was if Luna gave her...
...context.
I would have to tell her.
(The dark body's curl became a little tighter.)
About the Return.
(The stars in mane and tail began to flicker. In some places, they started to go out.)
About the Nightmare.
About... everything.
With a blast of purest inner sarcasm, I'm not sure whether her lacking the background for nearly all of it is good or bad.
She could give Cerea the basics: that which occupied a deliberately-scant public record. But for the girl to understand the full reason for the completed sentence, for Luna to gain any chance at forgiveness... there might need to be more. It was something which might require truth. Not all of it, not in the sense of guiding the centaur down all the little paths of Luna's life, but... enough.
Celestia had Fancypants: a confidant, somepony who had been told a number of history's deepest secrets simply because if you were going to have one person whom you could truly speak with, you couldn't hold all that much back. The elder's seneschal. The sisters were supposed to each have at least one in every generation. But it had been more than four years since Luna had come back to the world, reclaimed herself, and... she didn't have a seneschal. It felt as if there was simply too much to tell. To... try and explain.
Luna had run through internal rehearsals a few times, trying to update an old speech for what, to her, remained relatively recent events. Private script reviews for a performance which might never reach a stage, with every line read to a costar who mostly existed in outline. She had yet to find any version which failed to make her look like an idiot. And to do it with Cerea, someone she barely knew --
-- I know her better than any.
There were ways in which that was true, at least locally. Luna had gone back to the girl's dreams on night after night, trying to understand. And it hadn't just been visits to the centaur's birthplace. Cerea wanted to go home, longed for it, and --
-- there is a house. The doors are too tall. There's too many knobs. The interior has been rebuilt over and over. Whatever substance makes up the street outside feels wrong under hooves. It holds the heat too well, fractures readily, cracks and potholes lurking to catch a hoof and trip. And she can't go outside unless she's on a morning gallop, not unless her host is present.
But at least she got to go out by herself. Legally. The others had to sneak.
The others...
She'd seen all of them. A girl with the aspect of a bird, quick and light and forever looking for the next bit of joy. The one like a snake wanted to linger near heat, to wrap and possess. A spider tried to ensnare, something like a mobile liquid imitated, the piscine looked for the tragedy in every interaction -- and off to the side, something blue-skinned and strange simply watched.
The centaur was desperately homesick. And for all the pain which a barely-glimpsed rivalry could bring...
...all of the pain.
I've been tracking the trail of memory for moons now. I knew there had to be a critical moment. Something which had created fracture.
It seemed likely that Luna had found it.
The reason she blames herself.
(The night sky strewn across neck and flanks vanished. Strands of light blue went limp.)
The reason I blame myself.
The dark mare made sure the doors were secure. That there would be at least a moment of warning before anypony tried to enter. And she remained on the cushions, tucked tightly in a curl which brought no warmth, wondering what to say. How much she could say, and... if there were truly any words which might help at all.
She paused a few times. There was paperwork which had to be dealt with. Columns to tally. The nightly work of maintaining her realm. If reports came in, things which covered the aftermath of the failed party -- she had to review those. And eventually, Moon had to be lowered. Her sister could manage the feat, but... it pained Celestia to contact Moon, just as much as dealing with Sun seared Luna from within. There had already been a thousand years of such agonies. She could not ask her sister to go through any more.
But meetings were pushed off, newspapers invited to wait in a private reading room and on the whole, Luna simply thought. Did so for long after she would have normally gone to sleep, placing her within Sun's dominion. With her Guards knowing she was still awake, if not exactly why.
When the first report about the centaur's movements came in, it went to her.
Four long legs compulsively kicked at the barracks' floor, pushed, got Cerea upright and started to launch her into the gallop before true awareness fully returned. There was a moment when all she knew was that something had been within her mind, had been present without permission, a recurring violation and she had to get away from it, she had to escape and all she could do was run --
-- but for a centaur, scent was the first sense to fully awaken. And it gave her the olfactory signature of the area's other occupant. Something where aspects had been stretched thin by potion-masked pain.
It made her stop. The full height and length of her body shivered, and the dress rippled.
She'd hurt Nightwatch. She... couldn't wake the pegasus. A mad gallop for the exit made too much noise, and...
Where would I go?
Where could she go?
Cerea shivered again. It felt as if it was too cold in the barracks. Perhaps that was a sort of residue from the intruder. And she was dirty from escape and fight, it was just finally starting to dawn upon her just how filthy she was and it felt as if the muck had worked its way beneath fur and skin.
Violated.
She...
...she wanted to gallop upstairs with the sword and find the dark mare and bring the fight into the day and scream and shout and swing until everyone, everypony realized they had no right to enter her mind, to...
...she had to clean herself.
Maybe if her body was clean, her thoughts wouldn't feel so --
-- slowly, trying to move her hooves in a way which made as little sound as possible, the girl made her way to the bathroom. Got a door open, went through, closed it behind her as softly as possible, and then trotted towards the sinks. Bent her foreknees enough to drop her hands to a level which could reach the taps, which brought her into reflection range for the mirrors and she looked into the forever-hideous face of a monster.
There were too many emotions which surged through her then. Anger clashed with rage, hatred spared some room for blame, everything rising at once to the point where they pushed each other aside and let the panic attack take over.
Her arms came up, and did so too quickly. Hands clutched at her hair, began to pull. Two sets of ribs heaved, her breasts swelled against the poor confinement of the dress and seams which had never been designed for any more exertion than would be found in a slow dance measured their combat-weakened durability against the strength of a centaur.
The jury-rigging tore. Stitches split. Fabric fell away, and anatomy spilled out into the chill-seeming air.
Cerea stopped moving, as sundered cloth collapsed next to her hooves.
For a moment, every other emotion receded, landing in the same grave as the aborted panic attack. There was a second when all which remained within her was a sort of dark bemusement, added to the inner notation that if such had happened in Japan, it would have taken place in front of at least six human witnesses and an equal number of smartphones.
Perhaps that was the true difference between the worlds. Some of what would have been her public humiliations were permitted to be private. The trade for allowing every inner secret to be --
-- she stopped again. Eventually, the taps were twisted: first for the sink and then, after the worst of it was off her face, for the bath. And then she waited.
She'd been washing herself for -- a while. Two cakes of soap had been worn down into suds and futility, and yet she kept scrubbing. There were a few brushes for her now, and anything which didn't seem as if the bristles were about to break off had the handle feeling as if it was on the verge of snapping.
It was hard to measure time via the destruction of soap. Trying to judge how long she'd been in the bath by the number of times which had seen more hot water added wasn't much of an improvement. All Cerea knew was that she was still trying to wash herself, and nothing about her felt clean at all. Not when the true filth was somewhere behind her eyes.
She knew the continued efforts were wrong. Sick. But she couldn't seem to stop.
There was something familiar about that.
When was the last time I washed myself like this?
When she'd returned to the gap. Getting rid of foreign scents. It had been at least two hours before she'd felt as if she could get within olfactory range of another centaur, and she'd had to burn her clothing --
-- stop thinking --
-- I never wanted to think about that day again. I did everything I could not to think about it, and she made me dream of it. While she watched.
Sponge shouldn't be capable of abrading skin. Perhaps her body was just that weak.
I know what happened after I left the border of the glade.
The only thing which could have happened.
Everything, everything is my --
It took a significant bend of knees and torso to get her head under the water. Nearly a minute passed before she made the temporary decision to come back up.
She tried to wash her face again. This involved the removal of the disc and as soon as she finished the third round, it went back on. Cerea was expecting to be summoned for debriefing eventually. She needed to be capable of understanding the order. It was very important to understand orders, especially when you were trying to decide which ones you were going to ignore.
Water dripped from the tips of her ears. She had an odd awareness of her ears. They kept trying to retreat under her hair.
There had been rumors in the gap. Hushed talk about those who supposedly subsisted on the energy which could be gleaned from trauma. From nightmares. They forced you to relive the worst moments of your life, and then they fed on it. Apparently a little thing like changing worlds wasn't enough to get away from that.
What was next on her menu? The yellow vests? The closest I ever came to meeting my --
-- no --
-- or coming to the house for the first time. Thinking I had a chance, being stupid enough to almost believe that, I thought of an excuse to make him touch me and I did it, I grabbed his hand and made him touch me, to feel how human I was and then I was holding his hand and pressing against him and --
-- Miia and Papi stormed in.
Miia was angry. She knew what I was after. Papi mostly wanted to know when the next meal was coming.
And I knew I had rivals. Competition. I didn't have him to myself, and that meant I'd already lost...
As meals went, it probably would have been inferior to the glade. The discovery of the other girls had been personal. The consequences of the glade might have been gl --
-- stop.
Don't give her anything else. Bitterly, No more nourishment.
She went back to scrubbing.
(She was wrong about the dark alicorn. There was something else which fed on nightmares, and she would trot into its maw.)
I have to stop.
I have to stop.
One more cake of soap --
-- the door opened.
It was the sound which got her attention, just as much as the gust of air which entered through it. Something which brought an increasingly-familiar scent towards her, as paws quietly padded in.
Cerea automatically dropped her body again, trying to get as much of her upper torso in the water as possible. The approaching canid didn't seem to notice. Or care.
She's not good with people because there's times when she's shy.
Also because she's sarcastic, something of a troll, and doesn't recognize social cues. Those were the parts nopony told me about. Plus a pack species probably doesn't care much about little things like privacy. And having a taboo regarding nudity? Well, that's where she's in perfect line with the rest of this planet. What taboo?
The canid reached the edge of the pool. The left paw slowly stretched out towards the water. Stopped.
She looks like she isn't hurt. Tired, but... nothing happened to her after I --
-- I don't want her here. "Yapper --"
The most accurate word for the reply was 'bark'. "Wait!"
"-- I'm trying to take a --"
Sharply, with most of the front fangs exposed and short white fur strands shivering in turn, "Yapper decides whether Yapper gets in water. Yapper decides! When ready!"
Cerea shut up.
"Ponies think Dogs don't wash," Yapper muttered. "Say there's a smell. Most Dogs wash. Hot springs underground. Easy to find. Alphas decide when they want to wash. Some decide that means they won't wash. But omegas get pushed..."
The left paw was pulled back to safely. Slowly, pseudohands removed the vest and skirt, exposing -- more fur.
A toe was dipped. Slowly, the canid slipped into the shallow end of the pool. Dunked her head all at once, brought it up again, and fur collapsed across a surprisingly narrow jaw.
"Well," Yapper morbidly announced, "that was fiasco."
Cerea stared at her. There wasn't that much of a head under the fur. It was something like looking at a wet poodle...
"Normally supposed to send apology letter after bad date," the canid sighed. "Can speak Equestrian, but don't write it very well. And Canis... nopony can read. So thought this was easier."
Bad date.
It was the canid's sense of humor, or what passed for it. But Cerea was briefly tempted to tell her about some really bad dates. She'd been on one which had required full armor, and that had turned into one of the less embarrassing specimens.
"Was looking for centaur," Yapper added. "Didn't take long, once Yapper reached palace. Centaur can only be so many places --" and the canid squinted.
"Angry," she observed. "Yapper sure centaur angry just then. Why?"
Because the palace is just another gap in the world. A trap. A prison...
"It's been a long night," the girl softly understated. "Yapper -- where were you? I never saw --"
"When griffons sightpush? Bathroom. Trenches. Everypony uses trenches. Yapper not pony. Don't talk to Yapper about trenches. Trying to... line up. So heard part of fight, but didn't see."
There was a soft sigh. The canid slipped a little lower in the water.
Quietly, just barely audible to water-dripping ears, "Centaur okay?"
The girl took a breath. Slowly shook her head.
"Wanted to check," Yapper continued, with every word just a little too even. "Yapper was sightpushed once. Doesn't feel good."
Under the surface of the water, the girl's hands wrung against each other.
"What does it do to you?"
"Snap," Yapper stated, and the fringed ears sagged. "One way or another. Dog snaps." And shivered within the hot water. "Wanted company after, but... was new in city. Didn't know anypony. Kept own company. Thought centaur should do better. So Yapper is company."
Neither female talked for a while. Two bodies soaked in what heat they could, and recognized none of it.
"Centaur nursing?"
With a soft groan, "My species --"
"-- no sense of humor," the canid observed, then offered up a shadowed "Happy holiday?"
"Holiday," Cerea repeated.
"After midnight. Close to Sun-raising," Yapper told her. "Homecoming now. Holiday when ponies visit family. Celebrate family. So palace on short staff. Just essentials. Princesses want staff to go home." Softly, "Doesn't mean much for Yapper."
Almost timidly, "Do you miss it?" Pain shared wasn't lessened, but at least the echoes might sound familiar.
The canid seemed to give it some real thought. Nostrils flanges flared in and out.
"Tunnels," she finally said. "Smells and sounds. Feel of it. Warmth of the dark. Tunnels, but... not Dogs. Not for omega. Centaur miss home?"
I want to go home.
"Yes."
...I'm never going home...
That was the thought which stayed with Cerea for the rest of the bath. The canid and centaur didn't talk all that much for the remainder of their time together: the former wanted to provide company while not necessarily being all that good at it, and the latter didn't want to talk about what was going through her head. She'd had someone peering at her thoughts: listening didn't feel like all that much of an improvement.
She wasn't going home. That was a belief, and she recognized it as such. The abandonment of hope seemed to be required when she considered one-half of what had offered it.
But given the probable consequences of what she determined to be her next course of action, it could also be described as the fallout of a decision.
I'm never going home.
How can I ever stay here?
Yapper had curled up on one of the many empty bunks: the canid was tired, and resting in the barracks had been easier than trying to reach her house. Cerea had dried off, then gotten dressed. She had the option to not have that many layers involved: the chill had been scheduled for the overnight portion of the schedule, and Sun had been raised on a day which was quickly heading towards the warmer end of late autumn weather. It was probably because of the holiday. But she made sure to put on a thick sweater, and added a jacket to that. She would be heading into cold.
The centaur quietly moved around the barracks for a while, being careful not to disturb pegasus or canid. She... didn't want to wake them. She didn't want to give them the chance to talk.
Several things were tightly packed into bags, and then had even more things jammed on top of them.
She put on her watch. Checked it every so often. And when she recognized that the locker room was clear, she left the barracks.
The first thing she did upon arriving within the empty space was to extract the hairpins from the safe. It took a few minutes to find an arrangement she liked: most went into her hair, a few wound up within her tail, and there was very little chance of seeing her remove any of them at night again.
She checked her garments. Examined the position of the sword, then drew and sheathed it a few times in quick succession. Practicing, and checking on the speed of the draw. She hadn't gotten all that much sleep, because she hadn't had the hairpins back. It was best to make sure that she was focused enough for the next step.
Not much sleep, but... she didn't feel very tired. It probably had something to do with her blood being at low boil.
She knew where she was going next.
She knew what was going to happen when she did it.
She did it anyway.
By the time the Gate fully opened, Luna's mane and tail were fully restored.
"I will take to my bed soon," she irritably told the first gold helmet which poked into the room. "After I speak with Princess Celestia, as there are undoubtedly things to review. Such as the recounting of the night's events in the newspapers. And I had already sent word ahead that I would seek her out --"
"-- Cerea's trying to leave."
There might have been a moment available for simply staring down at Glimmerglow. Luna immediately decided she couldn't spare it.
The doors which were most frequently used when entering the palace gardens were large, well-maintained, and lacking in ornamentation. They could be reached rather quickly from the Lunar throne room, especially when the hallways were so lacking in population. And they generally didn't have four lightly-vibrating Guards blocking them, but that was just how the day had decided to start.
"I wouldst advise thee to move," arrived in Luna's ears as something which was entirely too calm.
"We're waiting for clearance..." the alicorn heard Sunspot shakily declare.
"As am I," replied the girl. "I am waiting for you to clear the door. While retaining the option of simply clearing it myself --"
-- which was when Luna's gallop brought her around the last corner, and she saw the centaur. The warm clothing. Customized saddlebags, which had been created for the rookie Guard because everyone needed to have a decent carrying capacity, and that capacity had been reached. A hand which was hovering very close to the sword's hilt.
She wanted to speak with the girl. (She still wasn't entirely sure what to say.) But it was something which had to be done in privacy, and to have the centaur on the verge of pulling the weapon had visibly turned the tableau into a bomb.
"Explain," the dark alicorn said as she momentarily flared out her wings, letting the backwards wind blast bleed off momentum: the final stop was about two body lengths away from centaur and door. "What are you attempting to accomplish?"
The centaur calmly turned to look at her, the waist rotating too smoothly, too far, and -- Luna felt that she had learned enough about the expression of that species to recognize that there was no surprise present. Cerea had likely scented her approach, or had simply been expecting somepony to arrive. All things considered, anticipating an alicorn was rather reasonable. It might have been Celestia, it could have been Luna just because Cerea was her guard and either way, that mare would arrive in the company of Inquiries.
"I am leaving," the girl calmly stated.
"She's trying to get into the gardens," Sunspot frantically said. "We told her it's a holiday, and when the schedule has it this nice out... there's too many ponies out there --"
"-- I wish to visit Blitzschritt's statue," Cerea evenly cut in, and the fingers flexed closer to the pommel. "I hast been advised that in times of trouble, it is best to seek the counsel of a knight. Especially the knight who was assigned to me for study."
"There's families taking a Homecoming trot!" the young stallion desperately protested. "We can't just clear --"
Luna took a breath. Measured it carefully, and then double-checked her math throughout the course of the slow exhale.
"Visiting the gardens," the alicorn said, "but not necessarily that portion of them. Which is not truly visible from any location surrounding it. We simply need to block off the mountaintop, and then Cerea may consult her senior in peace."
She looked directly at the centaur, keeping all visible focus on the girl's eyes. It was best if she pretended not to be examining the sword hand too closely. Or the saddlebags.
"Wait but a few minutes," she told her rookie Guard. "We do not need to clear a path: simply to secure a single location. After that, I will teleport you myself." A little more quickly, "And once you have taken the necessary time, I wish for you to attend in my throne room. I had not expected to find us both awake at this hour, but as the coincidence allows us to --"
"-- thou," the girl calmly said, "shalt not take me anywhere."
Luna blinked.
Nightwatch said that you could tell how upset she was by the formality of her speech.
Her posture is almost relaxed. But it's relaxed by design. Something which allows springing into action immediately, without having to overcome tension first.
The movement of a predator --
-- her posture is relaxed. Her words say she's anything but.
She's carrying the sword. No armor, but -- yes, there's one of the hairpins. And she can pull the sword at any moment.
She's recovering from griffon magic. She may not be fully herself just yet.
Or she could just be this upset.
Be careful.
"It is for the sake of expediency," Luna firmly stated. "There are certain considerations --"
Without a single trace of anger or sorrow, "-- when one is moving a prisoner?"
Be very careful.
"You are not a prisoner," Luna stated.
"Canst one come and go as she wishes?" Cerea asked. "Is sight of sky permitted to me, of my own will? To simply stand at any window, without concern as to who might see? I think not. And to teleport with you..."
The girl's volume dropped. Just by a decibel or two. Enough to notice.
"...even without considering that I wouldst need to fully disarm -- I believe you had instructed me to -- place my hand upon thy back. A most disagreeable sensation, I am sure. Let me spare you of it. No."
The last word fell between them.
Luna tried to remain calm. She had to keep control of the situation. Of everything.
And yet, she took one hoofstep forward.
"You have been made aware," the alicorn tightly said, "that there are families outside."
Nothing about the girl moved. "And I am certain they will be aware of me soon 'nough."
She's bluffing.
She doesn't want to scare anypony. To hurt anypony. Based on last night, her instincts --
Sapients went against their best instincts all the time, because the most basic aspect of thought was the ability to justify overriding common sense. And Cerea was an adolescent. Potentially getting close to the end of the transition, but...
Luna told herself the next part was a test. A way to find out just how bad it was, and that definition had aspects of truth. It just wasn't the whole of it.
"You are employed as my Guard," the alicorn softly stated. "I believe you comprehend the function of a chain of command. You are hereby ordered to wait within the palace until such time as your passage can be cleared."
The Guards who were blocking the door were looking at them. From one to the other, over and over.
"Which, I wouldst think," Cerea evenly countered, "brings us to the two differences between a vassal and a prisoner."
The alicorn forced her wings to remain in the rest position. "And that is?"
"The first would be mutual obligation," the centaur observed. "I doth not believe most remember that the lady owes something to her knights." Which was when the blue eyes almost dipped. "Even the poorest excuse for such. One who hast reflected poorly upon the palace, with the ineptitude of her service. To... fail so spectacularly, in public venue and view --"
It was an opening. "Part of what I wished to discuss --"
The girl's features tightened. "-- and that a prisoner does not have the option to depart. But there are circumstance in which a vassal is permitted to withdraw service. Call me not prisoner, but Guard? Then allow me to remind thee that a Guard may qu --"
"STOP."
There had been several reasons for using marble as the palace's primary base material. Among others, it added a certain something to the echoes.
The girl stopped. Her face was placid. But her fingers remained within tail strand widths of the sword.
Luna slowly looked at the waiting Guards. Mostly Solars, given the hour.
"Leave."
The group "Princess --" was automatic.
"LEAVE."
They left.
Cerea didn't move for the door. She simply used the extra space to turn. Bodies and eyes were facing each other now, and the girl seemed to have found a way of implying insult through looking down.
The alicorn stared at the centaur, wondered just how much the stars in her mane and tail were shifting. If there was any visible wobble, as centuries of experience waged silent war against the desperation of youth.
"There is a price for finishing that sentence, even in haste." Too sharp, she's looking for an excuse, this is a bomb which may be trying to decide when and where to go off... "I would rather you did not pay it --"
"I do not have to be a Guard," the girl softly declared. "After the events of the prior eve, one wouldst believe that the palace is better off. And if I am not within thy employ -- then what hold do you have over me?"
"You are an immigrant," began the next try. "Citizens, even those in waiting, are obliged to follow certain orders of the palace --"
"-- and why do I have to remain an immigrant to this land?" was almost peaceful. "Surely there is a nation which would have me. With reluctance, but... I can offer skills. Mazein has most of the metal deposits, do they not? I am certain someone there would wish to know new ways of working the steel. And I have long been curious to meet one of their females --"
Luna was trying to remain calm, and part of that was because she remembered that part of her own life. The years when she had been looking for not just a cause, but something to turn against because that was its own kind of instinct. A need to rebel, and... there were ways in which that had led to everything.
She was still close to her youth, in the deepest part of her heart. But it had been centuries. Adulthood could be a rather reluctant acquisition, but it was also an inevitable one. And there was something about age which defaulted the base reaction to adolescent rebellion into I am getting sick of this.
"-- the process for creating that steel," Luna cut Cerea off, "has been designated as a state secret, until such time as --"
"-- so you would take something within the mind and call it yours?" The rest of the words were forced. "I believe I have some experience with that..."
It only took a fraction of a second before Luna recognized her own next hoofstep as a mistake, and it happened at the moment when the girl's hand closed on the sword's hilt.
She won't draw.
She won't. A dream is one thing, but...
...a dream where she didn't know I had the power to be there.
Within hours of the griffons. The worst time for her to discover...
She's...
...upset.
Lashing out.
But she hasn't gone for the door.
She didn't try to get the Guards out of her way, and... she probably would have won.
Which was when Luna decided she knew what was going on.
She's trying to make me kick her out. Disobey to the point where I would have to fire her. And if it's my decision, then...
Take it slowly.
"What would the Sergeant say?" Luna calmly asked.
Once again, the eyes almost dropped.
"That some failures cannot be forgiven. And that it is best to step aside and let another do the job. Especially with something so important. He would be thankful that I had made the right decision."
"And how do you think you could travel, if you left the palace?" Luna's own side of the script. Reading off what the girl had probably anticipated as her lines.
"That was already asked of me, in a way," the girl allowed. "By Puff Weevil. 'What happens on the day you leave?' The answer has to come eventually, does it not? I travel through the forests, staying close to the rivers and away from the roads. From the settled zones. I find my own food. I could ask for a map with my discharge, but sighting on Sun will suffice without it." Her free hand began to reach for the disc. "Of course, theft is not my intent. Thou shall have this back --"
"The summoners?"
Those fingers paused. The grip on the sword tightened.
"Let them come."
Rebellious and -- worse.
Why now?
But it felt as if that already had an answer.
Quickly, as if time was running out, "Cerea, your thoughts are not clear --"
The blonde tail lashed.
"-- and thou wouldst know, I suppose --"
"-- in the wake of griffon magic. Princess Celestia and I spoke to them last night. They accepted full responsibility for your actions."
"Accepting responsibility," the girl observed with no irony whatsoever, "for the failure of another? Quaint."
More urgently, "They wished to visit, when you were ready to see them! To apologize! But you still need time to recover, and we must talk. There are things I need to say --"
"-- and there is nothing," Cerea stated, "which I wish to hear."
The alicorn could have wished for words. There were any number of things she could have wished for as they looked at each other across a gap which felt larger than worlds, and her first desire was for something which could buy her time. An interruption, a delay, anything which granted her extra hours to come up with the sentences which would fix everything, because the girl couldn't leave. Not this way. Not after... everything.
There were ways in which the second oldest pony in the world made a wish and when she heard the heaviest hooffalls in the nation on the hurried approach, she realized it had come true -- half a second before she remembered that wishing was for fools.
Of course. I dismissed Solar Guards. Who naturally decided that I shouldn't be managing the situation, so they went directly for what they saw as the greater authority --
-- and Celestia, moving at a fair speed, came around the last turn.
The white horn was lit, but only with a partial corona. A tight bundle of stacked papers was floating along her right side, and the elder's expression was --
"I'm going to ask a favor," the huge mare quickly said. "From both of you. One each. Princess Luna, I need you to come with me. Immediately. And Cerea... I was just briefed. The gardens are being cleared. It's an effort, but -- it's being done." There wasn't a hint of a wince on the white features, or the ghost of a sigh. The expression was darker than that. "I'm requesting -- and it is a request, nothing more -- that you stay on the grounds for a while. Because we do need to ask you some questions. Not just about last night, but --"
She stopped. Feathers rustled along the fringe of white wings. By contrast, the half-tangible tail lashed to the right, and came within hoofwidths of slamming the wall.
"Actually," the elder corrected herself, "when it comes to the foreseeable future, last night may have to go hang. Please, Cerea. Stay on the grounds, wait to enter the gardens until the doors open from the outside, and come back to the palace in no more than three hours. Will you give me that much?"
Was it the nature of the mare asking the question, which made the girl's hand release the hilt? The tone? Or simply the fact that it hadn't been Luna?
"...I shall," the centaur said. "My word."
Celestia nodded, just once.
"Princess Luna," the elder said, "with me. Cerea, three hours. Wind your watch, please. The clockwork does run down."
Celestia turned. Luna followed suit, forced herself not to glance back at the girl. Trotted around the bend, and she was still following, all this time and still following...
"I could have managed that." If it was a lie, then -- well, neither of them had been Honesty. "Another minute --"
But her sister was accelerating. Not just noticeably: to the point where it would have stood out to any observer, including those who didn't understand that an alicorn could move that fast. They almost never used that kind of hoof pace in the palace...
Instantly, "-- which is a minute we may not have."
Luna forced her own speed to increase. Hoofbeats began to sound eight-time rhythms along the corridor.
"There is a new crisis." Because of course there was. The world had given her a disaster just to buy time, and that was why you didn't make wishes.
"Worse," the elder grimly said. "We may have a repeat." And just as Luna's stars would dim, the borders of the pastel mane were slowing in their flow, with the colors becoming less distinct. Muddy.
It's bad. "The details?"
"Read on the gallop," Celestia darkly told her, and the bubble of papers moved across the gap. "The word's going to be spreading through the city in minutes, and I'm going to have suicide prevention squads right behind it."
It's worse.
"Suicide prevention," Luna tried. "Sister, why --"
"But we've got a little warning," the elder half-growled. "Just a little. Because in our case, the Tattler decided to do something very special. First copy off the press..."
The Special Edition rested on the kitchen table between them.
Most of the newspapers had placed the party's events on their front page. (This included the Bugle, where Raque had done her best to turn a complete lack of fatalities into the focus of the whole thing, while implying the griffons had been set up.) And it was 'most' because of one paper. The Tattler had pushed things all the way back to Page Four.
It was all about priorities, at least when it came to the Special Edition. The first release of the day's paper had featured the party. But after that... well, there were times when you had to run off another printing, just as quickly as you could. After all, they had an exclusive.
"We will send somepony to their offices." It was something to do. An order Luna could give. The first thing to do while standing on the edge of a reopened precipice, waiting to see if the world fell in. "Immediately. To bring her here --"
"-- why send one pony?"
She looked up at her sister. The thin, angry smile.
"I've been dealing with her longer, Luna," the elder said. "Wishing that I didn't have to, or that there was a way to stop which didn't have somepony worse filling the vacuum. And with her... no matter what we do, you know how she'll describe it. A full unit in armor, come to virtually arrest her." The shadows clustered within the undertones. "So... why not let her set a personal record? Telling the truth not just twice, but in a row. We send a full unit. And they drag her back. Possibly in a net."
And now Luna was staring, as the smile thinned a little more. Listening to a pony she hadn't seen in a very long time.
"A postponed pleasure," Celestia stated. "Something we should try to squeeze in before the end of the world..."
The huge white rib cage shifted. Out, then in.
"But the thoughts aren't the same as the deed," the elder finished. "No matter what she might say, if she knew about it -- and she would say something. Or write it. Still, there's nothing wrong with having the thought. It's a test of sorts. Being able to reject the fantasy is how we know our souls are still intact."
Luna silently nodded, and they both looked at the newspaper again.
THE MAGIC GOES AWAY!
Ponies sickened! Devices drained!
HOW IS THE CENTAUR RESPONSIBLE?
"No full unit," the elder finished. "No net. Two Guards, with at least one escort-capable. Accompanied by one attorney, in case the Tattler decides to put up another kind of fight."
"Wordia Spinner," Luna concluded. "In the palace, standing before the two of us."
Celesta nodded. The newspaper began to smolder.
"Within three hours," the white mare spat. "Let's just think of it as our chance at an exclusive..."
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Excellent chapter. Luna shit the bed fairly thoroughly, but she at least realizes it. And Celestia comes along in the knick of time to help her clean it up, while also dealing with the local rag. Cerea will stay, I'm sure of it, but perhaps now with some confidence borne of righteous indignation. One can hope. Looking forward to more!
Yup, Luna bucked up big time, and Celestia had to come and save her fat flank. Again. And no, one more minute would not have made a difference. I love Luna, I really do, but she's seriously screwed the pooch on this one. (Sorry, Yapper, bad turn of a phrase.)
At this rate, the world is going to end in fire, ice, and plastic pieces.
Well. That's not ominous at all.
And the background events finally intersect the main plot. Probably no relation at all to the "thing which feeds on nightmares". None at all.
Cerea finally snapped. Yes! Let the anger out it will be good for the soul. Crisis postponed for now the talk will happen later I am guessing.
A little tease about Nightmare Centaurs a neat little bit of info from Monster Musume lore. Maybe because some have that ability, Centaurs could have an easier time with dream magic? But Cerea believe Luna is something else than a Nightmare (oh boy does that going to screw with both when that info is out), but what?
Yapper is a good date, even after a bad one.
And good heaven, have a plumber design a diamond dog approved toilet please.
It occurs that at this point, Celestia doesn't even know what happened between Luna and Cerea. Not the highest priority at the moment, but that is going to be an awkward conversation I hope we don't miss.
Not a direction the story would go, but I can’t help but think sneaking off and requesting asylum in Mazien would be the best thing for her.
Luna laying claim on her knowledge of metalworking really emphasized how much she’s not given her freedom in this situation. I’m glad she pushed back as much as she did, while seen as petulance from Luna’s perspective, she’s dearly needed to stand up for herself. Pushing her on the difference between vassal and prisoner was satisfying.
One more minute? Yeah no. Luna absolutely needs a mediator to get out of the hole she dug herself into.
Glad to see things are kicking up a notch
"Let them come."
Oh, that's a good sign. She's focusing a substantial portion of her ire at the ones who deserve it most. The poor things.
11020555
Indeed.
"They've got us surrounded, the poor bastards."
Sounds like Tia is ready to give another "special" gift for Wordia. Something about deodorant made out of rare dragon peppers.
I think Cerea know about NM story from Nightwatch.
If Luna dont want tell directly.
Goddamn. I love me some pissed off Cerea.
"Evil may be found in anger, when one is angry more than right reason demands.
--But if one is angry in accordance with right reason, then one's anger is deserving of praise."
Well, if they're requiring her to come to the palace then they are arresting her, albeit for a very brief period. In the US, this would definitely be considered a "seizure" under the Fourth Amendment.
But... humans are pack animals....
Luna really messed up. Of course, I couldn’t completely disagree with her… Cerea really was giving off some strong “How dare Mom look at my diary!” teen energy as well. I do wonder how much she’s still stuck in a “flight or fight” response from the Griffon thing.
Unless they execute her, or slander her so much that absolutely no one ever takes her seriously again, I don't see Wordia learning from this. There needs to be REAL consequences this time.
At least Cerea has finally gone into borderline 'FUCK ALL Y'ALL!' territory.
11020717
There are many versions of this story. It probably wasn't one that would indicate Luna's personal experience of the matter, and what followed.
11020489
Yeah, although in fairness, having an obligation to protect the trade secrets for a job even after you've left that job is a real a thing, if someone else is the legal owner of that information. That's my understanding, anyway (this is just based on transcription work for courts, I'm not a legal professional). Mazein might take a different view of things, though, if for no other reason than their own history and how it might affect their perspective on one person owning any aspect of another person, such as the contents of their brain.
I really like Mazein. I'm sure it's actually a miserable place because this is Menageria and no one there can have nice things, but from what I've seen, I'd willingly live there. (Not Equestria. The only functional institution there is the one for escorts.)
Clearly, we need more prophecies of doom now that some of the last batch have been fulfilled.
On the one hand, it's good to see that Cerea isn't completely repressing her emotions anymore. On the other, this is a slow leak of a highly corrosive and flammable substance at the worst possible time. Even if a spark doesn't show up, it's only a matter of time before it eats through something important. And Luna sadly can't afford the time needed to explain the situation, assuming she even could. No slight meant to her; Cerea just isn't in the mood to listen. And, again prophecy of doom.
Looking forward to more.
I don't know whether it was intentional or not, but I like the several instances where Cerea refers to Luna using "thee" and "thou" which may only have been chosen because they sound like old-timey formal speech, but in reality (to my knowledge, actual results may vary) was a way to speak down to someone. Meaning that Cerea is facing down her liege and talking to her as though the princess is her inferior. That's some real anger.
Also Luna literally looking at Cerea who's borderline ready to throw down and going "aw, it's just a phase; she'll grow out of it."
11021019
The US government kept close tabs on Oppenheimer after the Manhattan Project. I am not surprised they would want to keep that information hushed and out of foreign hands. It’s just one of the many ways she’s treated as a potential problem more than a person. Diamond was pretty on the nose with her observations. Equestria was the most damaged by Tirek and is the worst choice to harbor a non-aggressive centaur.
there a sad irony that for the first time she not self defeating and blaming herself over everything, because she was betrayed and now angry, how pitiful it takes such a violation such a betrayal for her to speak with confidence and stand up for herself
11020899
Humans are social animals there is a difference.
11020899
Eh, it's more like an emergency summons to court.
11020433
Honestly, I don't think Luna knows either. She didn't seem to have more than the barest inkling of how violated Cerea feels to have had someone peering into her thoughts, and Cerea hasn't yet said one word on that either. We're looking at two frustratingly parallel courses which are just barely never connecting. Unfortunately I think only Celestia or Nightwatch are in any position to sort that out and get to the heart of the matter.
Because, after all, Luna's dream watching is likely socially acceptable among ponies. Cerea's not a from ponyland.
11021325
I feel like the way Cerea turned into an avatar of fiery wrath should have given Luna a bit of a hint about how she felt about the intrusion. Though I do agree that Luna is a bit more... flippant? about the situation than I would've expected. Dismissing Cerea's position as teenage rebellion is not a good sign. More 'blank flank' inherent prejudice, I suspect.
well that happened, lets hope Luna apologizes at some point
In other news I wonder how much of the lunatics rambling Wordia put in, cause if the Princesses find out she met with the nutjob she's gonna want to start running, preferably to the ends of the world
So the word on the dead-zones is out, and Wordia is going to get a (very minor) taste of government authority when you live in a near-absolute diarchy.
Hmmm ... just going to toss this theory out, but what if the appearance of magic dead-zones and unicorns being able to co-operate in formerly impossible numbers is because of how hurt Discord is? What if Discord isn't a mass of magic that gained sentience and will? What if Discord is the sentience and will of Magic?
11020911 Yes, Cerea was, but there is a big difference between looking in someone's diary (which, while private, was still put down separate from the writer) and invading their dreams, their mind (the single most personal, and supposedly sacrosanct, thing any person has).
Granted, Luna doesn't see it that way, since, as far as she is concerned, nothing is "restricted", "off-limits" or "not allowed" to her.
"substance makes up the street feels outside wrong under"
"substance makes up the street outside feels wrong under"?
"Canst one came and go as she wishes?"
"Canst one come and go as she wishes?"?
Though I'm not sure if that one is deliberate in the way Cerea is currently talking, and I'm just not recognizing it.
"The alicorn forced her wings to remain in the rest position. "And that is?""
"The alicorn forced her wings to remain in the rest position. "And those are?""?
11020911
While adolescent rebellion is often silly, I have to say I'm a little baffled by the example you choose -- it really is immoral to read your children's diaries!
11022022
I don’t know why that would be baffling… I used it specifically as an example of an actual invasion of privacy that would elicit an extreme reaction in a teenager… a reaction such as “I’m taking my stuff and running away into a far more dangerous situation while avoiding anyone who cares about me and might talk me down.”
As for the ultimate immorality, that’s harder to say when said child is of an unknown past and has been central to violent public incidents (multiple) and is very clearly struggling to cope. We’re not talking an incident where a mom is just nosy or controlling, but a case where they’re lost trying desperately to keep someone safe who is spiraling out of control and have an actual need to understand them in order to truly help.
It definitely turned out to be a bad call, but I’m not sure how much I can condemn it.
11022033
Oh, I see. Misunderstood what you were saying, sorry.
Maizan might be her first choice but Procera might work better. She could make as good a griffin as a pony could, earn her link in their chain of responsibility, even eat meat and like it. It’s really a more natural fit than the awkward place the Diarchy is carving out with such effort. Maybe these penitent ambassadors will point that out when they’re done apologizing. Gaining advantage for their nation is their job, they’d be remiss not to.
11021885
She never thought that a non pony who didn't know about her ability would mind since nobody has ever complained before. We learn right and wrong from those around us but if nobody ever says its wrong how can we ever know.
11021326
11021325
I agree, I think Luna is interpreting Cerea's anger as "oh, she's mad I saw a personal memory (and also the other thing I said)" and missing entirely the GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OUT OF MY HEAD element of "ain't nobody supposed to be in my head but me, and the fact that someone else was is causing me extreme distress".
11022125
In terms of fanservice... roughly equal, I'd say, if not greater on MonMusu's side. Everything else is completely different though. There's no actual plot to speak of and very little progression. Just a bunch of slice of life episodes with various naked/half-naked monster girls.
One thing I will say, though, is MonMusu has an awesome catchy OP that it honestly doesn't quite deserve.
At this rate, Cerea is going to need the whole VET clinic?
11022339
Luna has both an expectation of being a blessing in the Nightscape which is her realm regardless of any choice of duties, and a habit of stepping in it up to all four knees.
A simple "I FLOCKED UP AND I'M SORRY!" would have made this go so much more smoothly, but that would be the easy way out