In which the truth is no comfort
He had been warned that it would be disconcerting, this far in. The usual senses could not be trusted, and he would have to interact with his surroundings through intuition. Still, the darkness was foreboding. It seemed almost aware.
But it wasn’t dark, exactly. To be ‘dark’ would imply a simple lack of light. Instead, there was nothing to be seen. It was as if he were adrift in that realm between ideas, or the pages of a book. Still, there were presences. Feelings. Thoughts. A sense of ‘up’ which, while unreliable, also implied a sense of ‘down’.
It was ‘down’ that Worker swam. He imagined his legs working awkwardly through the nothingness as he propelled himself towards something that glimmered below. It seemed forbidden, that glimmer, and all the more desirable.
After an interminable journey, Worker found himself at hoof’s distance—if he had a hoof here—and reached out to touch the wisp of light that hid in the folds of nothingness. Just a fraction of an inch closer, and he would…
Luna descended the final few feet and set her hooves atop the worn stones of her aerie. She gingerly folded her wings, and released the long-held dweomer that hid her from sight. The sole guard keeping watch showed no surprise as she popped into view. She nodded a silent greeting to the pony, and to the city itself. It had been nearly a year since she had seen either.
The peace she had won was worth it, she knew, but she had missed Canterlot. In many ways, it was more of a home to her than the ruins in the Everfree. Here, there were always a few ponies who braved her nights.
She turned, then, to observe: the shadow-clad stones, the quiet whispers of a city that knew most ponies had gone to bed hours ago, the occasional joyous hoots of laughter that split the night, and the awkward silences that fell after every outburst. Naught had changed since her departure, and if her luck remained, naught would change now that she had returned.
But those were thoughts for another time. For now, she had other priorities. First, some food. Then, her duties. And finally, a well-deserved rest.
The princess’ horn pulsed faintly as she opened the ornate hatch. She winced, stretching this way, then that, the strain of even minor magics causing every muscle in her neck to tense in agony. Lowering the moon, she reminded herself, would be far from pleasant. Maybe she could ask her sister’s assistance?
No. Those days were past.
Luna sighed. She shifted where she stood, rolling each foreleg in its socket, then turned to descend the ramp - only to find her way blocked by a familiar yellow mane attached to a cobalt unicorn.
“Your Highness.” The stallion briefly bowed his head.
“Chancellor,” she greeted him in return, her voice assuming practiced neutrality despite the flicker of irritation that danced in her eyes. She stared through him, down the ramp.
After a moment’s silence, awareness dawned and he stepped aside to let her pass. He fell in behind her and began his report. “I apologize for the lack of decorum, but having received word that you would be arriving, I have been watching the tower. It is important that you be made aware of a guest.”
Luna paused in her descent. She lifted her chin and gazed over her shoulder, fixing a sidelong look at the nervous stallion. “A guest?”
“Yes, your Highness.” He nodded in the shadows.
Luna shook out her mane and continued her walk. “None but you and the Night Watch knew I would be returning today, Chancellor. Are you telling me that there is a breach in my circle?”
“No, your Highness,” replied the voice behind her. “The guest has been waiting for you for some time now.”
Luna focused briefly and shut the ramp high above. In reply, more knots wove themselves across her shoulders. She hoped the deepening gloom had hidden her grimace. “And by some time, you mean…”
“Eleven weeks.”
“Eleven?” Luna’s horn flared, a blinding beacon that was quickly dimmed to a more reasonable lantern.
“Indeed,” the chancellor replied, blinking to restore his vision. “He refuses to leave your Court, but is otherwise cordial. He simply states that you will be returning soon, and that he insists upon his rights to speak to you. He has likewise refused any suggestion to meet with your sister.”
With that, the pony paused, seeming to look for the best phrasing. “I... am not certain if she is... aware of his presence.”
Luna reached the base of the tower, then turned to address her old confidant once more. “Tell me more about this guest. What does he look like? I assume he has not given a name.”
“He’s tall, and thin... almost skeletal.” The chancellor’s face contorted with distaste. “He is a unicorn, and has a pronounced horn—it could, quite possibly, challenge yours for length. His coat is pale, and his mane, I think, is reddish-orange, but he’s so… so filthy.
“Well, he is not in the best of states. As for a name, no, your Highness. He did bring a token that he showed us, but would not let us take. It is a silver disc, perhaps part of an old medallion, with your emblem on one face—”
A thunderclap and flash interrupted the report. By the time the chancellor’s vision had returned, two of the Night Watch were rushing through the door, and Luna was gone. Her haste was remarkable in itself, but it was her expression that he found most troubling.
Muttering to himself, he bowed his departure to the Watch and made his way to the Palace.
A bundle of soiled rags stirred in a side chamber of Luna’s court. Slowly, a long, filthy leg descended from the fetid pile, and then another. They were a pale yellow, stained with mud or worse, and they shed dried clumps of matter as they moved.
The creature to whom the legs belonged lifted his head from the bundle, the tangled knots and clumps of his orange mane looking much like the other debris. He stared through the wall at someone, or something, in the far distance. He smiled, then pulled his hooves beneath his chin, and waited.
What sounded like a thunderstorm on the horizon gently rattled the large doors that led to Luna’s throne room. As soon as the sound faded, they opened, revealing a slate blue mare.
She remained in the doorway, one hoof raised in mid-stride, frozen in shocked study of the chamber’s sole occupant. She had imagined the Chancellor’s description an exaggeration, but in truth he had not gone far enough.
The pony within was emaciated, his too-tight hide pulled over not enough flesh. His coat and mane were fouled, and he cloaked himself in blankets that were so tattered they barely deserved the name. What held Luna’s attention, though, were his eyes.
Deep within their sunken sockets, two glittering black orbs emitted an almost imperceptible reddish glow. Luna realized the occupant was staring back, but refused to break eye contact.
“Worker?” she breathed. “Is it you? What in the name of the First Circle happened to you?”
The pony rose slowly from his seat against the wall, then shook off the blankets that scattered caked debris as they slid to the floor. They could have shed diamonds, and Luna would not have noticed, as her attention was fixed upon the perfect wings on her guest’s back.
Slowly, Worker unfurled them. In the back of Luna’s head, a voice screamed a warning, but she could not heed it.
“Nothing you didn’t do to me, Luna.”
The doors, unbidden, closed behind the princess with a whisper.
“If…” Luna began, but paused, her long journey catching up with her. She swayed a moment, then found her footing and turned again to address her guest. “If you seek to harm me, Worker…” Focusing her attention on his horn, she prepared a counterspell for anything he might attempt.
The pain that lanced across her temples and down her spine reminded her that it had been far too long since she had last slept. Her body took immediate steps to rectify the situation.
“Luna,” said a voice, interrupting her slumber.
“Luna, wake up, please,” continued the voice. “It’s almost time for dawn, and your sister...” It nattered on for a while longer, but she stopped listening. Why wouldn’t it just go away? It’s not like she had anything to d—
Luna bolted upright. “Moon!” she gasped, “I must lower the moon!” She scrambled to her hooves and found herself swaying, the floor and ceiling not quite agreeing on their orientation. Before she fell, a force gently enveloped her and set her firmly upon her own legs.
“Luna,” soothed the voice once more. A pale, gaunt alicorn stepped into view, his horn glowing faintly as the force faded from around her. “It’s me. Worker. Focus for a moment. I can lend you strength, but I cannot weave to the moon.”
“Lend me strength?” Luna asked, “What do you me—” Her eyes widened as every ache and pain in her limbs succumbed to the magic coursing from Worker’s horn. It flared for only a moment, and as it faded away, she felt as if she had slept for days.
She gazed at her old friend, eyes wide. “But, how?”
“In time,” he replied. “For now?” He gestured to a high window with his horn.
“Of course.”
Worker sat in a quiet chamber beside a small fireplace, its heat slowly fading. A blanket covered him from withers to dock. He was not cold, but as the Watch might deliver a message at any time, it was a simple solution to keep certain truths hidden.
His host sat nearby, atop a favorite pillow. She had offered him one, but he declined. He told her he preferred the feel of the cool stone, but in truth he was no longer accustomed to such things. After niceties, pretending to sip his tea, and some awkward small talk, the first real question arrived.
“How did you hide?”
It was a simple query, but her words were heavy, laden with unspoken accusations. “...from me?” was the first. “And what are you hiding?” was another.
Worker ignored the subtext. Instead, his mug floated to rest atop the mantle. Once it was secure, he returned his attention to Luna. “Quite simply, I do not dream.”
“That’s unhealthy, Worker,” she breathed. “All ponies need to dream.”
“Most,” he corrected. “Have you not been flying for weeks?”
It was true. She had not stopped since the hostilities had ended.
“You seem to know more of my doings than my own chancellor,” Luna mused, pushing her old sparring partner to reply.
“I am well beyond his tier,” he murmured, shaking his head with a rueful half-smile. It was not boasting, but a statement so obvious it seemed almost insulting to say aloud.
An uncomfortable silence fell, and the two ponies looked about the room, each trying to measure the other. Finally, Luna prompted her guest once more.
“Worker,” she asked, staring into her cup. She looked up and met his eyes. “What happened to the children?”
“You know what happened,” he replied, trying to keep his tone neutral. “You attended each of their funerals.”
“I did, yes. But I attended yours as well.”
Worker looked into the fireplace. A few coals pulsed with heat, but the flames had long passed.
“No, they do not live,” he said. “Snowdrop faded after ninety years in this world, and Foxglove passed a few years after, forever the little sister.”
“And Skyshine?” It was an absurd question, but...
Worker shook his head. “She is gone, too. Of my family, only I remain.”
“Is that… why you chose to become an alicorn?”
Worker stood with an uncanny grace, a single fluid motion that brought him to his hooves. He regarded her with a level stare. A half-second passed, then he turned away, taking a few steps towards a low shelf with well-worn books.
Luna studied him from her perch, but did not stir. She realized, perhaps far too late, that she was behind a closed door with an unknown factor. Whoever this pony might have been, there seemed to be very little of that person left.
She lowered her mug, and leaned forward for a better look at his face.
He picked up a book, examined the title, and set it down with a faint sigh.
“Luna,” he said, “I did not choose this form.”
“What do you mean? One cannot become an alicorn by chance.”
“Of that I am painfully aware.” He peered at the ceiling, studying the tile work, before continuing. His voice sounded more familiar now, that of a tutor reciting a lecture. “Twilight, who earned her wings by finally recognizing what everyone else had known for years. Cadance, whose horn appeared when she stayed true to her cutie mark, and risked everything to keep those who loved each other safe from harm. I suppose even earth ponies can ascend, but from what I know of them, most are content with the gifts of family and field.”
“There have been ponies from that tribe, in the past,” Luna interjected, “but they have moved on to other realms.”
He gave her a sidelong look, then turned to face her. “The point is, I did nothing of the sort. I realized no inner gift, I performed no great act, I pursued no unattainable goal. No, all I did was raise a family and try to lead a quiet life.” He grimaced, then turned back to regard the princess. “It would have been enough, for me, but that’s hardly enough for ascension.”
“Then… what?”
“You.”
“What?”
His brow furrowed, and he dropped his gaze to stare at her hooves. “I only put it together recently. When you, so many years ago, turned me into a pony… when you were actually envisioning the shape for the spell…” He looked up, and searched her features for something. “What sort of shape did you envision?”
Luna shifted uncomfortably. “I was thinking of myself, and how I knew what it meant to be alone, and distrusted.”
Worker paced back to the fireplace, and nudged the last glowing coal away from the carpets. He watched it slowly crumble, and as it did, he continued. “But I am not you. You were clearly not thinking ‘Luna’. You were thinking ‘pony’.” He watched the coal until the last few sparks faded.
Again, he regarded her from the corner of his eye. “But what kind of pony?”
Luna did not speak, but stared at him, her mouth half-opened in a forgotten reply.
Worker looked back into the fireplace, his lip trembling. “That…” He swallowed. “That’s what I thought.”
“Worker, I…”
“...didn’t mean to. I know.” He stepped away from the cooling stones, and approached Luna atop her cushion.
“But…” she protested.
“You don’t get it, do you, Luna?” he seethed through clenched teeth, suddenly looming. “You never mean to. Every horrible thing you have wrought has been, not due to your intent, but your negligence. Even your imprisonment was borne of lashing out, acting before truly thinking.”
Luna stood from her seat, and drew herself up. “I will not be spoken to in this fashion.”
Worker drove a hoof into the stones beneath him, throwing sparks as he gouged it deeply. “That’s where you’re wrong. I will speak. You will listen. You will listen as I recount how I was not ready.” His voice raised in volume, but it could no longer gain intensity.
“About how I did not know what would happen. About how I could neither understand, nor prepare. About how little I found I knew about your stories, the tales they tell children, and how often those tales are truthful.” The glow deep in his eyes intensified, casting a hellish light about his features. “How I watched, powerless, as my wife went on to where I could not follow.”
He bared his teeth in a feral rictus, shouting through them. “As my children did the same, neither knowing I still lived! And you will tell me, finally, what twisted curse empowers this form, and why I seemingly cannot take a life!”
Luna glanced reflexively at the door and the tiny window in the far wall. In the barest whisper, she asked, “How do you know about that?”
“How do I know, she asks,” he mused, his voice dripping with cruelty. He reached up to his chest and parted the rough fur. A series of hideous scars were marked out, like lines on a chalkboard, above his heart.
“Because, Luna, I tried. And when I determined I could not kill myself, I tried killing other creatures. Squirrels. Rabbits. A Diamond Dog who tried to steal my commission. I. Could. Not. I would have, but something kept me from the killing blow every time.”
“Worker,” she began. “Worker… we—alicorns, that is—can only take a life in defense of Equestria.”
The anguish that twisted his features faded, a candle’s flame in a hurricane. “Only in defense.”
“Yes,” Luna replied. Before the word had left her lips, she found herself cast across the room.
Worker approached, his horn sparking, tendrils of smoke rising from his tangled mane. “Then I regret what I must make you do.” He reared back on his hind legs, and suddenly found himself unable to move.
The fireplace and pillows winked out. The walls dissolved, and the doors collapsed into nothingness.
“That is enough, and more than enough,” Luna declared, striding into the emptiness of what was once the room.
Her doppelgänger hissed at them both as it picked itself up off the floor. As it moved, it shimmered, losing all hue and depth until it became a jet-black shadow. The shape hovered for the barest moment before it fled, somehow malevolently glaring at both ponies despite its lack of form. Luna let it leave. She turned her attention, instead, to the wild-eyed stallion she held in stasis.
“Worker,” she intoned. “You will wake now. I’m sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.”
Worker moaned as he woke, but not in fatigue. “It was so real, Luna,” he said, her familiar profile resolving as he blinked the sleep—and tears—from his eyes. He ran a fetlock across his nose, sniffling.
“I am sorry, Worker. I should have known it would only be more adept with the passage of time.”
“So real,” he continued, half in a daze. He sat up from his mat in the center of guest chambers, trying to reconcile the lush appointments with the cold stone he could still feel.
“I felt immeasurably old. And unbelievably powerful. I could feel every feather on my wings. But… how could she have known that we’d have named a second daughter ‘Foxglove’? How could she have known any of it at all?”
Luna settled down beside him and brushed a stray lock from his brow. “Nightmare knows what you know,” she reminded him. “We discussed this, before. Only your deepest secrets are safe, and then only if you are lucky.”
“But… what of the things I do not know? If she knows my secrets, does she know yours?” His brow furrowed, and he stared at his hooves as he gestured, turning over the words as his mind raced to keep up.
Luna sighed, but said nothing.
“What about the spell you cast? Is such a transformation possible? Could... it have actually happened that way?” There was a moment’s pause, and then Worker’s eyes bulged, his throat working for air as his legs scurried to lift him. He convulsed, gagged, then dropped to his knees, unable to remain standing.
“Luna… Luna, did it happen?”
He met her gaze, and watched in horror as silent tears flowed down her muzzle.
“Luna, please…”
Luna stared a moment longer, then closed her eye and shook her head. “Worker, I cannot tell you that you have seen your future.” She frowned at him, and wiped the remnants of of her tears away. “But, I must admit you may have learned your past. Nightmare works in secrets. In lies. It forges doubt into a weapon.”
“But she said… and you…”
“I know what was said,” Luna snapped. She took a soothing breath, then continued. “The most effective lies are the ones mixed with just enough truth. I was thinking of myself when I cast the spell. I was imagining how happy I was when I was freed from Nightmare and returned to a world that could learn to love me. Whether that means the spell took my thoughts literally, I cannot say. It was never studied that closely, for what should be obvious reasons.”
“The Bellum Draconis. Yes, you’ve told me some of that.”
“Does that answer your question?”
“One of them. As for the other…”
Luna’s eyes narrowed, and she lifted her chin a degree. While much closer to her emotions than her sister, she rarely showed fear. As such, Worker knew what it looked like when it did appear.
“Luna, why can’t an alicorn take a life?”
The question hung in the air.
Luna rose, walked to the doors of her chambers, and locked them. Without a word, she moved to each of her windows, and fastened them in kind. Finally, her horn sparkled, and a translucent blue sphere materialized around them both.
Her precautions taken, she sat next to Worker’s mat, and shifted until comfortable atop the plush carpets.
“That, Worker, is a very long story.”
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Off topic, but I just realized why Eggman calls himself Worker. Robotnik. Robot. serf labor. Laborer. Worker.
And how is this related to that Somber fellow and the scattered events of the first two chapters??
4383676
These are scattered recollections, bits of story arcs that weave through the Worker-verse. Somber's appearance was when the Everfree was still home to the sisters. Skean & Bulwark's interlude happened shortly after Worker & Skyshine's wedding. And the Luna & Worker - They Fight Crime! arc is the only one with two chapters so far, and happens a year or two after the events of Hope.
Woah, surprise update. Hurray!
Okay...so that first half was all a nightmare scenario? It wasn't actually real?
4383905 Eeeyup.
It was a little disorienting after the time away, but a quick scan reminded me of where we are. Happy to see an update!
Edit: Fixed!
4384387
Fixed, thank you.
Eesh, you never pull punches.
Woah, this chapter.
That said, it feels weird to have had a Luna POV section in the part of the chapter that was Worker's dream. Or am I missing something about how the chapter played out?
4394578
That's dreams for you, I guess. I got the same comment from another reader, but I often have dreams wherein I play a minor part, or no part at all. *shrug*
4401041
I'm a little confused. I had no part in the story that is Past Sins.
As for lesson time, you'll have to wait and see.
4401041 Something something lucid dreams and/or an assload of caffeine.
Woah
.
Impressive, most impressive charictor development with the help of a hyrefetical event.
Nice job going from "lolwut" to some really deep, emotional stuff. :)