“Nightmare, nightmare, intruder beware,” Luna whispered, her voice barely a breath in the empty moment before she opened her eyes.
It was an old rhyme Celestia had taught her in the time before Discord. It was her ward against the terrors she faced nightly, a talisman against the cold fear corrupting her ponies’ dreams, and a bolster for her flagging resolve.
She gazed down on her nighttime realm from a stable perch, the sole isle of solidity in a vast sea of star speckled luminescent clouds shaded in blues and greens, oranges and reds. Emotion further tinted space as waves of it shimmered in and out of existence, around and through the clustered nebulae.
Dreams flowed through the star-speckled void as bubbles of thought carried by currents of nebulous ether, around and over which pathways of stars ebbed and flowed in a ever-changing starscape. From one moment to the next, the plane shifted in rolling waves as new dreams appeared and old disappeared, altering the currents and resculpting the pathways.
Time had little meaning in the space where dreams lived but, night by night, she had seen it grow calmer as nightmare after nightmare faded away into calmer dreams. A year had passed, and the realm that was her domain had become more peaceful and clean. The ugliness stood out clearly against the calmer whole: pulsing vileness staining the paths, and polluting the nebulous streams.
If she did not push away the nightmares, other dreams would be tainted and grow ever darker until they, too, became nightmares. It was her duty to prevent that from happening.
Almost a year had passed since the villain, Discord, had been turned to stone. The scars of his reign lingered in the dreams of her sleeping ponies. They grew fainter as Celestia worked to erase the physical scars of his tyranny from the land.
But the damage he had done to their minds, young and old, persisted. Many still feared his return and his wraith. It was in the nightmares of those most tormented by him that she found him still waiting.
Some of her subjects might never recover, and would go to their graves still clinging to the fear of his return and what he had done to them and those they loved.
Will there be an end to the nightmares? At times, it seemed like there would not. She could not see one when fears that were not her own pierced deeply into her heart, and visions of horror lingered long past the moment she banished them from her ponies' dreams. She guided them into the sunlight and warmth of a new day that, for her, seemed perpetually just over the horizon. Who will be there to guide me?
A moment later, the thought passed, half pushed away by another: Wistful wishes, foalish Princess. If you had not agreed, the nightmares would still invade the day. Luna snorted, sending a dream drifting into a tumultuous eddy of light.
It popped.
Somewhere in Equestria, one of her subjects would be waking, and whatever dream he or she had been living would linger and either haunt or delight them. Sometimes for days. Sometimes for weeks.
“My fault.” Celestia's voice sounded from the memory of a dream from just after the fall. "My arrogance caused this."
That dream had persisted for months, growing weaker each night. Though Celestia forbade Luna from entering her dreams, it had not prevented her from hearing her sister's lament as she sat, night after night, unable to push away the wash of guilt and pain as it bled through the dreaming veil and into Luna's heart.
Through haggard dawns and tense gloamings, Luna had seen the anguish in her sister’s eyes, and had known she ached to let go. She also knew that Celestia could not.
Nor will I.
Those days were past, but not done. The ache of them still throbbed in the back of her mind whenever she faced down a nightmare, fear coursing through her veins. Never her own fear, never her own pain. Always another’s.
"Rest well tonight, my sister. I will guard the night," Luna whispered from her perch before stepping off and onto the path.
Her hooves found purchase in the stream of starlight flowing between nebulous rivers carrying dreams along in a never-ending dance of light and thought. The dreamwalk came naturally to her. It was a gift, or a curse, from the Elements of Harmony, whose power had filled the sisters from the moment they cast the spell to draw them from the tree.
She paused, and bent to touch her horn to a dream as it drifted by.
“…and that dastard Star Swirl will love me once again…”
A mare’s dream. A spurned lover? The dream drifted away, shimmering as it brushed past her hooves.
Left to her dreams of unrequited love, she would find happiness for a moment, or she would not. She snorted and continued walking along the pathway. The anonymous mare did not need her help, nor would she likely appreciate the intrusion.
Another dream passed by. One of Celestia’s guard dreamt of a noblemare known for her fondness of sweets, with a girth to match the temptations she daily placed in front of herself.
Luna watched, from his view, as the noblemare attempted to sneak a slice of cake from a tray, only to have the entire collection of confections fly up and spatter the obese mare with cake from nose to tail.
She laughed, and the starscape shimmered at the sound of her voice, sending dreams into swirling eddies of their own, and scattering others over the blue-black, star-speckled pathways to join another stream. All around her, the ethereal landscape shifted colors as her mirth rolled over it, lightening to bluish green tinged with shades of amber and honey.
It’s beautiful. As she walked in its wake, the wash lapping across the paths warmed her hooves and brought an unbidden smile to her lips.
Laughter was becoming more common in the dream bubbles, but outside of them, silence held sway aside from the echo of her hooves upon the paths. The rippling aftermath stretched out beyond the limits of her sight and, for all she knew, it would reach out into forever.
She stopped atop a hill of stars, watching as the happier colors persisted into the distance and only gradually fading back to the angrier orange-red that was more familiar. The final echo of her laugh disappeared into the vastness beyond her realm, and silence returned to her world.
Then, at her feet, a dream eddy broke through the tapestry of stars, and a blue-green marble of thought swirled around for a moment, then strengthened and grew as one of her subjects fell from fitful slumber to deeper sleep.
“Oh? Who are you?” She blinked as the dream’s substance began to color the stars around the path, sending streamers of hope winding along the path to touch her hooves. “Me?”
The dream pulsed at the sound of her voice, growing more solid. This dream wanted her. Why?
“A mystery.” Luna stepped into the dream.
The moon hung silently, high in the sky above an empty, snow-dusted street. Shadows stirred, flickering in the light of a guttering oil lamp at Luna’s side. Snow drifted slowly across the rough cobbled street, piling up in graceful banks of silver and blue in the lee of the few houses.
All along the road, windows stood dark, and doors closed tight against the cold and wind. Snow lay piled on thatched roofs, and icicles hung down like the spears of the pegasi guard. It should have been cold, but all that she felt was a faint chill rising up from her hooves and pressing in against her nose.
Despite a skirl of snow drifting down from the roof of the house in front of her, she heard and felt no wind. The dream was silent.
“Hello?” Luna’s voice cracked through the frozen night.
A loose drift of snow slumped soundlessly into a high-rising drift below, setting off an avalanche of glistening powder that spilled into the street. The wind gusted again, this time tugging at Luna’s mane, welcoming her.
This is a dream.A real dream.
No silent terrors hid underneath the slowly drifting snow. No searing pain lurked behind the closed and shuttered windows. No screams carried in on the silent wind.
Peace reigned.
Shutters clattered, then creaked open across the street. A moment later, a pink nose peeked above the sill, followed soon after by a darker pink muzzle speckled with white freckles.
Luna waited, patient, as the timid nose sniffed and then rose until one green irised eye peeked out, then two. It was a filly, one ear flat while the other perked forward, quivering.
Luna cocked her head to the side, considering the filly with equal interest. Memory stirred, sparked by the green eyes and the pink coat.
“I know you,” she whispered as the wind picked up and carried away her words. Months ago, she realized, those eyes had been wide and pupils narrowed to pinpricks as Luna guided her away from parents who fought against orderly rows of corn turned to soldiers and back to a calmer present.
The army had besieged their home with taffy bound trebuchets flinging apples the size of boulders to crash and splatter against a crumbling wall while calling out orders to surrender.
Luna shook her head, clearing away the memory as other parts of the corn army carried away adults and foals alike to unknown ends.
That memory had no place in the present.
I saved her from a nightmare. Does she remember?
At the thought, a light flickered to life in the window of the house across from her, then the door opened. The filly stood in the doorway. A thick, undyed wool shawl hugged her neck, the dull grey contrasting with her bright blue mane and pink coat.
“Princess Luna!” the filly called out, a broad smile splitting her muzzle. “Princess Luna! You came!”
Luna cast a look up and down to the ends of the street. It remained empty, save for the whispering wind and the white fog marking the edge of the dream—and the way out.
“I-I did, child,” she said, finally.
I should leave. There were other foals and adults who would be experiencing nightmares. They would need her help to find the way out and see that it was all just a dream.
I don’t want to leave. The dreamscape surrounded her with peace, and she could feel the warmth flowing from the filly, welcoming Luna to her dream. Wanting her to stay.
But other fillies, colts, and even adults would be facing down their own armies of corn.
Luna stood still so long that the filly’s smile began to fade away as she stared across the street. “Princess? Are you feeling well?”
No. “I’m… doing well.” She forced a smile, nodding to the filly. “Are you?”
The smile came back, but the one ear remained flopped to one side, giving the filly a confused look. “Yup! Come in! Ma made me leave out cupcakes. Just for you!”
Cupcakes? Luna paused, wondering what kind, when the filly across the road waved her hoof invitingly. "Very well, young filly." Crossing the street was like walking from the polar north to the tropical south in just a few steps. The snow remained, but inviting heat suffused the air and rose from the rough, careworn cobbles.
The door shut behind Luna as she followed the filly inside.
Fresh, gold hued planks of seasoned pine stood out amid older, drab gray planks of cedar and aspen. Their festive scent added to the feeling of peace flowing through the home, and eased a tight coil deep in Luna’s heart.
Orange firelight flickered down the hallway, giving life to shadows that danced instead of crept, as the filly led Luna deeper into the home.
The floor was simple dirt, hard-packed and strewn with fresh, clean hay, speaking of a simple, comfortable home that need not fear the pangs of hunger. A rough-framed, hoof drawn picture hung on the far wall, near to the flickering light. It was a simple line rendering of three ponies, done well enough so Luna could recognize the filly, drawn with love and shaded with rosy hues of happiness. In the picture, both of her ears were upright and perked forward, though she wore the same smile.
Understanding flooded through Luna. She can’t move her ear. The last she had seen the filly, both ears had worked properly. She hadn’t escaped the reign of Discord unscathed. Another scar, another failure to protect one of her subjects.
She pushed away the thought and came back to the warmth, leaving the chill past behind.
“Is this your home, now?” Luna asked as she felt the warmth of a loving home creep up her legs, easing the chill and tension in her muscles, and smoothing away the regret. The filly was happy. Her ear may have been injured, but her smile and the love flowing from her had not been.
“Yup! Ma and pa are sleeping. They said I should be sleeping too, but I couldn’t. I had to see if you would come to warm our hearth.” The filly paused, looking down at her hooves, and then back up at Luna, a small smile tugging at her mouth, and a faint blush coloring her good ear. “It was my wish, for Hearth’s Warming.”
“It’s Hearth’s Warming, today?” The past few weeks, months, had blurred into an incoherent blob of nights and nightmares. Have I lost track of time that much?
The filly cocked her head. “It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve,” she said slowly, staring at Luna as though she were a dullard who’d forgotten what day it was.
“Oh.” Maybe I am… She sighed, shaking her head.
“So?” The filly looked up at her, her good ear still cocked back. “Are you going to stay?”
Luna stared down into those bright green eyes, searching for what she had seen all too often. There was no nightmare in the filly’s soul. No fear, or horror. There was quiet, peace, and warm welcome.
I should leave. The thought came again, intruding on the glowing joy growing in her heart. There would be other fillies and foals who needed Luna’s guidance to help them out of the horror of scars left by him.
Her hooves wouldn't move her towards the exit.
Go!
She stood still, trapped by the peace of the dream.
I don't want to go.
The warmth of the home around her was so soothing, urging her to stay put.
If I left now… would a nightmare come?
The filly blinked at her, tears forming in her eyes. The lop ear flopped forward more firmly, and the dream fabric shuddered as warmth began to drain away. "P-princess Luna?"
I can’t leave.
Luna reached out to stroke the side of the filly's face from ear to cheek. “I will stay, but I don't know your name.”
“I’m Flop. At least, that’s what my friends call me." She looked up, her smile returning. "I like it!” She shook her head, ear flopping wildly. “It fits.”
Friend. Luna smiled.
"And this log is special… how?" Luna turned the log over, floated it upside down in her magic, and examined it from every angle. It looked the same as the other logs had before being burned down to near cinders.
“It's… um." Flop tilted her head, eyes flicking between the floating log and Luna. She chewed her lip for a moment."Okay, so the log goes on the fire,” Flop said, tapping the log. She looked up at Luna and tapped it again. “Okay?”
“Why this log? Is it special? Like the cupcakes?” Luna nodded at the remains of the platter of cupcakes, which had been flavored with Flop’s fervent love of confections—a perfection that could never be achieved outside of a dream.
“This is the warming log. It… warms the hearth.” She tapped a hoof against the log again, her other ear flattening against her head. She looked up, her eyes shining with an ardent desire to make Luna understand. “It’s the last log to go on, and it’s spiced to smell good.” Her hoof tapped on the log again. “Okay?”
“Okay… I think I understand.” Luna frowned as she pushed the solid log onto the flickering dream-fire. The heat pulsing from the flames was like that rising from the floor, soothing instead of searing, and spreading a warmth deeper into her heart.
“No, no. You have to put the spices in the log.” Flop dashed forward and smacked a hoof against the hollow log, then dragged it out of the fire before it could do more than smoke and smoulder.
“Spices?” Luna hadn’t seen any spices in or on the log, nor any place to put them. But, as she dragged the log farther away, it weighed far less than it had, and she found a roughly hollowed out hole bored most of the way into one end. “They go in here?”
Memories of other hearth’s warmings flitted by, fogged by months long exhaustion and despair that wasn’t ever her own. A smell spread from one to the next, along with a warmth at her side as her older sister sang words that were little more than sad tatters of memory.
Flop was staring at Luna with both ears folded back. “I-is this your first Hearth Warming?”
“My sister and I have spent more than one together,” Luna said, trying on a what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "She would sing to me," she added as a whisper of song twined through and around the warm firelight memories from long ago.
"My mom sings, too. Is… Princess Celestia your mommy?"
Luna's ear ticked back briefly. "She… is my sister," she repeated, slowly.
"But mommies sing to…" Flop's eyes widened, and she looked away. "I'm sorry."
Silence fell on the home, and a faint chill invaded the dream.
Luna reached out again to Flop, pulling her closer while she hummed what little she could remember of the song Celestia had sung so long ago. That it was broken and long stretches of quiet intruded as she grasped for the tattered remnants of the memory didn’t seem to bother Flop.
"Worry not, child." Luna turned her attention back to the log as the peaceful warmth returned. Her attention turned back to the log and its hollow, then to the curled shavings that had appeared on the hearth. “What kind of spices?”
Smile returning, Flop pointed at a thick clay pot stuffed with sticks, leaves, and little nuts. “Hearth’s Warming spices,” she said, as if that was all that mattered.
It was a simple pot, unadorned aside from thick vents cut into the top, and around the rim, through which Luna could smell a hint of joy. She lifted the lid from the pot and bent to sample the scent more closely. Nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, and bay leaves filled her nose with stronger memories of Celestia and a small hovel in a distant land where the two sisters had spent years growing up.
She blinked away tears before looking aside at Flop, sitting expectantly at her flank.
“A-and we burn the spices?”
She stared: first at the fire, then at Luna. “No…” She cocked her head, ear flitting back and then perking forth.
Luna looked away and frowned down at the log, then at the pot. “I have only watched,” she said finally, lowering the log to the ground and stepping aside. “I have never done this myself.”
“Really?” Her head jerked upright, good ear twitching. “Oh no! Mom and dad are waking up. You can’t be here! I promised I would stay in bed!” She started pushing Luna away, herding her towards the hallway. “Hurry!”
The dream popped.
Luna’s eyes snapped open as she returned to wakefulness. The dream world was gone, the comfortable home with everything perfectly warm replaced by the plush warmth of the cushion on her throne.
Moonlight streamed in through the high windows of the throne room, casting cold illumination on tapestries and stone. Chill crept through the hall, carried by whispers of breeze that hinted at the full fury of the winter wind whipping drifting snow against the frost-rimed panes high above.
But, even there she smelled a hint of the same warmth that had been in the dream, drifting along competing tendrils of air coming from deeper in the castle. Few servants were there for the winter months, most gone home to tend to family in the slow months when travel became troublesome and weather schedules snarled by competing needs cast unpredictable snows across the few roads that remained passable.
The kingdom slept during the winter… but some few devoted retainers remained. It was Hearth's Warming Eve, or soon would be, and those that remained had made their logs and filled them with traditional hearth spices.
“I know what they are, now,” Luna whispered to the air.
Her guard, a constant companion to the point Luna barely noticed him, cast a glance her way, but didn’t say anything. He sat impassively, his eyes drifting from place to place in the dimly lit hall.
“Do you have a family?” She asked him, speaking louder.
He jerked, his posture growing stiffer as his eyes snapped to hers, then away. “Y-yes.”
“Don’t worry, Cloudy Night.” Luna schooled her face to a softer expression, and smiled. “I am done with my dreaming duties for tonight. Please, see to your family, and wish them a happy Hearth’s Warming for me.”
“Are you certain, Princess?”
She thought a moment, and nodded. She held up a hoof before he could leave. “Cloudy Night, are you familiar with the Hearth’s Warming log?”
He blinked, staring, then nodded slowly. “Of course, Princess. Why do you ask?”
“I wish to see to my family, as well, and I could use your help finding a few things.”
“Luna?” Celestia’s sleep leaden voice barely rose past the heavy, rasping noise filling her chambers.
“Yes?” She sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, her face warmed by the flickering flames of a freshly renewed fire, a heavy steel auger gripped in her magic scraped away at a the inside of a log. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. Not yet.”
Celestia was silent for a long while as the grating got deeper and louder.
Luna looked up and saw Celestia watching her with half-lidded eyes. She smiled, then nodded to the finely carved mantle where a bright red, clay censor sat, lid askew, and a bit of white cheesecloth filled with spices stuffed haphazardly inside.
“Luna, what are you doing?”
“It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve. I’m getting the warming log ready.” Luna paused to inspect her work, peering inside the log and then eying the fat pot. The auger resumed its work, scraping away at the inner wall.
“What?”
Luna stopped scraping away at the log long enough to grin at Celestia. “Hearth’s. Warming. Log.” Luna said with exaggerated care, her ears perking forward while a smile grew across her muzzle. She peered into the log again, shaking free the most recent shavings into the fire, and pulled the clay censor over. It fit—barely.
“Oh.” Celestia slumped forward, chin resting between forelegs dangled over the edge of the bed. “Okay.”
Luna turned her attention back to the log, and a particularly stubborn knot of wood halfway down. She sighed, rolling the log around in the air and attempting to dig at it from another angle. Her eyes drifted back to Celestia occasionally, watching her blink slowly while her ears ticked up at each scrape and tap, only to fall back, limp, in the lulls.
Finally, Celestia yawned and opened her eyes more fully. “Why are you augering your own log? Don’t the guards—” Celestia jerked upright. “What time is it?”
“It is not yet high moon.” Luna nodded to the ceiling and its skylight where the moon shone steadily down into the sumptuously furnished chamber. The silver light illuminated the velvet lined couch under a window, and the bookcase lined with neat rows of tomes ordered by size and topic.
Celestia blinked, and yawned wide before settling her muzzle across her forelegs, watching Luna work. “You know that we have logs already hollowed out for the pageant later today, right?”
“I know. I wanted to remember what it was like, before all of this.” Luna bit her tongue and peered into the log as the censor stuck, then tugged it back out. She sighed as the tatters of memories teased at her again, and Flop looking up at her, green eyes shining. Just like I did, once. Luna looked up, ears flattening. “I… walked a dream tonight.”
Earnest joy filled her again, and the house from her memories settled around her for just a moment, merging with Flop’s dream. Everything was more perfect than reality ever could be. She caught her breath, a smile growing over her muzzle as the warmth swept through her again.
“It was a dream, Celestia.”
Celestia’s ears perked forward. “A dream?” She waited, watching Luna.
“At first,” Luna said, looking away from her sister to hide the tears she was afraid were trailing down her cheeks. “At first, I wanted to leave. Other foals, and even adults, needed me. But I didn’t want to. She was so happy to see me, ‘Tia, I just couldn’t leave her.” She snuffled, a smile trembling on her lips. “I couldn’t,” she repeated, more strongly.
“You haven’t called me ‘Tia in a long time, Lulu.” Celestia’s voice carried with it the warmth of the hearth as she slid from the bed and stretched. “I miss those days.”
“I do too, ‘Tia.” Luna set the log down and dragged her chin up while tears trickled down her cheeks. “Why did we have to leave? We were so happy.”
“Shh…” Celestia’s wings swept forward, ushering away tiny slivers and shavings scattered near the hearth, and settled down in front of Luna to fold both wings over her back. “You know why.”
“For foals like her,” Luna said, pushing herself further into the embrace, taking in the familiar scent that ignited more memories of the little home so far away. She’d known the answer before she had even asked the question. “For Flop, and her mother and father.”
“For all of our ponies,” Celestia whispered, nipping Luna’s ear gently, then nuzzled it. “The healing will take time. But give yourself time, too. You, too, are my little pony.”
“Am I?” Luna turned into the embrace and laid her cheek against Celestia’s neck, pressing her nose into the still unkempt ethereal bands.
“You are. I care for you no less than any other pony, Lulu. You are my sister, and I will always love you.” Both wings folded more firmly around Luna, folding her in the warmth of her sister’s scent, and drew her closer.
“I love you, too, ‘Tia,” she whispered back.
