Shame and Desire

The chariot landed just when Luna’s letter said it would, and two pegasi guards settled back onto their legs after the long flight.

“I guess it’s time, Twilight.” Spike looked up at her, then gave a big hug. “Please get better soon, okay? I’ll miss you but I want you to be okay.”

Twilight let out a breath, nodding. Assuming I can get better. She felt hollow, somehow. The converse was too grim to consider. If Spike had heard what she said to Rarity -- well, thank Celestia he hadn’t.

Spike trotted out beside her, and his brow knotted again. “I wish you didn’t have to go, Twilight.”

Twilight put effort into making a smile appear, and it was a little easier than she’d anticipated. “Me too, Spike. But if anypony can help me, it’s Princess Luna, and Princess Celestia may be able to help as well. I don’t think there’s any better way for me to have a chance to recuperate.”

The little dragon nodded. “I know. And I’ll be okay, I just like it better when you’re around.”

Twilight sighed and gave him a tight scooping-up hug. “Well, I’ll be back before you know it. Try not to eat all of Rarity’s gems while I’m gone.”

He chuckled, but his brow was still knotted. “I’ll do my best.”

Twilight got into the chariot, then waved. Once he was out of sight, she found the same dragging sense of fatigue pulling her back into the seat.

* * *

Twilight decided, after a few fitful minutes of struggling to sleep and not to sleep lest she dream, her best bet was astronomy. The night sky rolled past her sight, with thick clouds now and then, but largely she had a wide view of the stars above. The movement of the chariot and her two suitcases was a soft jostling background reminder that the chariot was indeed in flight as she plucked at her memory. Artemis, the huntress. Lepus, the hare, just beneath her rear hooves. Eridanus, the river, winding in a milky path to the right.

“We’ll be in Canterlot very soon, Princess.”

Twilight drew a breath that felt more shallow than it should have. “Thank you, Sir.”

Cured, insane, or dead. Three possibilities. How long could her mind handle assault after assault? And where had Luna been during the last dream? It had to be been a dream. Rarity would never engage in such utterly filthy activities, Twilight was certain.

The clouds seemed to lift up, away from the chariot, and Twilight knew they were coming in for a landing.

She needed answers. She needed reassurance. Most of all, she needed sleep, and it might never come.

* * *

When Twilight found herself in Luna’s chambers, the Princess of the Night was nowhere to be seen.

“Princess Luna requests that you make yourself comfortable. She’ll be along shortly.” With that, the guard at the door shut it behind himself, and left Twilight to wait.

Twilight nodded to herself after the door was shut. After a moment, she found her way to the comfortable seat next to the bed table.

Luna’s bedroom was plush. Twilight preferred simplicity, and her little bedroom in the library reflected that. Bed. Spike’s bed. Night table. Lamp.

Luna’s bedroom seemed vast. Bookshelves swept along the walls, built of dark stained wood, most of them fully loaded. Carvings of the moon as it was before Nightmare Moon’s reign decorated the facades of the wood, along with stray stars and comets. Twilight drew her eyes over the shelves a few times, but could neither summon the energy to get up and look at the titles, and she couldn’t make them out from her very comfortable seat.

A large desk in one corner was covered in parchments, books open and closed, several loose quills stained with ink, and two inkwells, one at each corner. A grandmother clock sat in one corner, ornate and seemingly wrought from silver, a disc pendulum swinging inside. No doubt it was actually silver leaf -- even during the Sisters’ Reign, solid metal clocks of that size would have seemed extravagant beyond reason. Still, it caught the moonlight and stray candle flames with dancing pools of silver light.

A good two thirds of the room was taken up with a wardrobe and a bed, both in the same dark stained wood as the bookcases. The wardrobe was unremarkable, but the bed was quite a sight to behold. It was a four-poster, with thick navy blue velvet curtains, several of which were drawn back and tied against the posts. The sheets were in disarray, and pillows upon pillows were loosely arranged.

It looked like the bed of a mare who didn’t sleep well and had made an effort to conceal the fact. Twilight knew such a sight only too well.

Twilight sucked in a breath. Maybe it’s something more. Maybe it’s not just me? Maybe this is affecting Princess Luna as well. The thought that she was not alone in her torment was brightening, somehow. It didn’t seem likely that the Princess would take such an interest in Twilight’s sleep, even if Twilight was technically a ‘Princess’ now. Princesses who lived in libraries and were essentially glorified cloistered researchers weren’t exactly relevant to Equestrian politics.

On the wall opposite the one Twilight entered were two doors set into the stone walls. Twilight vaguely recalled that one was the access for Princess Luna’s personal magical workshop and the other led to a receiving room, where Princess Luna met with any dignitaries or friends.

Twilight was just starting to wonder why she’d been shown to this bedchamber when a sound on the other side of one of the doors drew her attention.

The door in question opened up, and Princess Luna came through. Twilight swore there was a twinkle in Luna’s eye, and even in the circumstances, it gave her heart. “Hello, Twilight.” Her forehead furrowed for a moment. “Can I get you some tea, or anything?”

Tension flexed in Twilight’s body for a moment, at the memory of the last tea and the dream that came with. “No! Um, thank you, no. That’s all right. Really.”

“Twilight, you’re shuddering! I -- I am sorry. Are you all right? I meant nothing by it.”

“I think I’m okay.” Twilight felt a little out of breath. “But this isn’t a dream, is it? Please tell me this is not a dream. I don’t really want -- ” I don’t really want this little scrap of hope to flutter away.

Luna’s mouth opened for a moment, but then she nodded. “I can assure you this is waking reality, Twilight. Take as much comfort in that as you need to.”

Twilight hesitated, then pulled herself out of the chair and wrapped around Princess Luna in a tight hug. “I’m sorry. I know I sound crazy, I feel like I’m going crazy! I just can’t process any of this, and I didn’t want to tell Princess Celestia, because it -- it’s just insomnia, and -- “

Luna’s own foreleg looped around Twilight and hugged tight. “Shhh. I know. I know.”

Twilight wasn’t sure when she started crying but it didn’t start small. Tears were soaking into her cheeks and and she was shaking, hugging tighter and tighter to Luna.

“Twilight, it is clear I hadn’t grasped how much this problem has progressed. Let me give you something to help, as a stopgap.”

Twilight shifted back, blinking at Luna. “I didn’t mean to hide it. I just wanted to feel normal. I don’t think I’m ever going to feel normal again.”

“It’s okay. Let me help you. If you want some water, or lemonade, I can provide that. Further, I assure you -- I can give you a dreamless sleep for a while, and then we can discuss things with clearer minds, both of us. Would you let me do that?”

“Yes. Oh, oh yes. Please.” Twilight choked on the words because they tumbled out, not waiting their turn. “I want to sleep. I’m sorry, I really am. I just -- I want it. I need it! I’m sorry. I don’t mean to beg! I -- “

“Shhhh.” Luna’s magic picked Twilight up, lifting her over the four poster bed’s mattress. Luna trotted alongside. “It seems clear hydration is not nearly the concern I thought it might be. It’s all right. Just rest for now, Twilight. When you wake, we will discuss solutions.”

The pillows ordered themselves a bit, the sheets parted and lifted along with the comforter, and Twilight was slid mostly inside. Soft, absolutely pillowy comfort held her up when the magic vanished, and her head settled on the cloudy soft pillowpile.

As Twilight’s eyes shut, she could see Luna watching her, and there was something on Luna’s face she’d never seen, something she couldn’t interpret or analyze, something she’d sworn she’d seen on her mother’s face or Rarity’s but not quite.

* * *

Awake. Twilight drew a breath and stirred.

The scent was unfamiliar, faintly spicy even, and spoke of perfumes and a mare she was unused to spending time around.

She opened her eyes and shifted. Something more unfamiliar was nagging at her, something bodily. No, the absence of something nagging. Something --

She was rested.

It was surreal. Normalcy, energy, attention.

“Twilight?” Luna was seated at her desk. “Hopefully you’re feeling a little better now?”

Twilight pulled herself out of the bed and onto all four legs. “I feel much better. How does it work?”

Luna tilted her head. “The dreamless sleep?”

Twilight blinked. “So I can get sleep? If I can do it myself, then I don’t have to take up your time. I can just go home, give myself dreamless sleep most of the week, and let myself get REM nightmares once or twice a week, instead of losing sleep over it.” Finally, a solution. Twilight giggled and shook her head. “That spell should be in every Beginner’s Grimoire. Well, maybe Intermediate Volume 1, but early, is all I’m saying.” Twilight hesitated. “How complicated is it?”

Luna let out a little sigh, her ears swiveling back. She sighed and shook her head. “Twilight, this is an emergency measure. Using this all the time -- or even just most of the time -- is going to lead to some very, very unfortunate consequences.”

“Unfortunate consequences? This is like eating or breathing. I can’t think! How can anything possibly be more unfortunate than not sleeping?!” Twilight stopped herself and shut her eyes. Don’t. ”I didn’t mean to r-raise my voice, Princess Luna, I’m sorry. It was just so horrible. I couldn’t imagine what ‘unfortunate consequences’ could possibly make the spell so dangerous, considering what it addresses.”

Luna looked away. “It is not something I could tell you, Twilight. Words could not convey it. I’d have to show you, and I don’t think either of us could handle that very well at the moment.”

Something in Luna’s voice told Twilight not to speak, not to ask, not to even think what she thought anyway: Either of us? I’m the one losing my mind here! Immediate guilt flowed over the concept. Luna’s bed looked nearly as unkempt as her own, when she’d found it. She had no idea of the burden, of what it truly entailed, and she never would.

She couldn’t judge their actions, even if they couldn’t judge her psychological horrors.

“Twilight, please, believe me when I tell you that there are things I’d spare you knowing if I can possibly do it. Please, also believe me when I tell you I have good reasons for sparing you the knowledge.” A dry silence of dust particles hung for a moment in the shafts of sunlight. “Not all knowledge is . . . worth the emotional strain.”

“But it’s knowledge, Luna. My life’s devoted to it.”

Luna turned her head enough to look back at Twilight over her shoulder. The moonlight cast over her back and the low illumination gave her navy coat a sheen like an oil slick. “Imagine Princess Celestia had told you she punished her sister for attempted deicide. That she’d banished her sister to the moon with monsters of darkness for a thousand years. Would you have been her pupil, knowing that? Would the ruler you see even now as a paragon of wisdom and benevolence possibly have been reconcilable with that knowledge sans any context or resolution?”

Twilight wanted to push a yes out of her mouth as fast as she could but it stuck. Would she have? Would doubt have infected her? “I can’t judge anypony based on a single act.”

The other mare still watched, with a single eye. “Of course you can. You do every day, Twilight. So do I. The unfortunate truth is that equine psychology is built around first impressions. You learned lineage just as any schoolfilly did, and you know we were not always Equus sapiens. Deep in our thinking, ‘civilized’ minds are the leftover behavior of mares and stallions that predated Roam’s burn, even Roam’s founding. It’s not a question of whether a pony judges. It’s a question of whether they can reevaluate a first impression or not, and the more impact the first impression has, the less likely they’ll be capable enough to do so.”

Twilight felt a vague knot in her stomach, watching Luna closer now. The oil-slick near-jet-black sheen seemed to shift, no doubt from Luna’s musculature flexing underneath her coat. Twilight bit her lip and nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. I can’t know.”

Luna turned to look out the window, and the long shadow cast over her coat slid away. “You trusted my sister’s intentions and judgment. I realize first impressions can be complicated and difficult to break free of, Twilight, but I must ask you to try. Try to trust me. If I say that something is genuinely horrendous, please, believe that I could be right.” Her head dipped forward slightly and her ears laid back. “Take it from a mare who dealt with sororicidal urges for a great period of her life.”

Twilight caught the break in Luna’s voice. Oh, no. No. “Princess, it wasn’t -- “

Luna’s head lifted and her gaze caught Twilight over her shoulder with a single eye, cutting her words and freezing her step. “I know what it was, Twilight. I know better than you, or even Tia, could ever possibly realize. When she forgave me, I still do not think she quite understood what she was forgiving. I could not thank her with anything less than the truth -- that I missed her dearly.”

A shiver pulsed through Twilight’s haunches and she took a step back before she realized it. Words found their way from her lips, as words so frequently did, even when they were ill-advised. “It wasn’t all you, though.”

Luna’s pinning eye blinked, and the seemingly impossible spell was broken. “This is . . . true. But it was, in some fragment, me. There’s a darkness in my heart, and it is something I have to live with.” Luna turned again. “I count myself fortunate my sister could forgive me. I cannot ever forgive myself.”

Twilight drew a breath again. “She forgave you because you deserved it. You were never a bad mare, Luna, only weak. Weakness is equine. Something preyed upon it, but otherwise, it might never have grown so large and unruly.”

A fresh silence grew, and Twilight felt certain she’d said the wrong thing, that Luna would cast her out or stalk out of the room.

“Perhaps.” Luna lifted her head to look up at the sun for a moment, then smoothed her mane with a flow of magic. “I am not certain exactly how we came to talk about me, but I’d rather not. I’m sorry, Twilight.”

“Don’t be. I mean, please, don’t be. Honestly, sometimes I wish I could swap my problems with someone else’s.” Twilight flopped back on the bed. Physically, she still felt energetic, but a nap was sounding better by the moment overall.

Luna turned and came towards the bed. “Well, I hope that if you ever do, you pick somepony else. I know for a fact I couldn’t handle the kinds of problems you have gracefully. I can barely handle my own.”

Twilight tilted her head. “You say that, but a thousand years plus of wisdom goes a long way.”

“So does the boundless optimism of a youthful mare.” Luna’s magic flared again as the blankets pulled up over Twilight. “Do you need more rest? If we really must, I will teach you the spell at some point, but for now you’re still quite deprived and if you’d like more rest I’ll gladly oblige you.”

“I haven’t been able to think for so long. I was so terrified for so long about those horrible nightmares, and then I was so exhausted I couldn’t think, and then I was so stretched thin I couldn’t even tell when I was awake.” Twilight drew a few deep breaths and shut her eyes. “When I had the last dream, Rarity was at my bedroom door. She came in right after. Spike did too. I couldn’t even look at them for a while.”

Luna’s ear flicked. “Why?”

“I felt like somehow it might have been a dream and if I’d seen her or Spike it would have started getting horrific and disgusting, I guess. Which is just silly, but it didn’t feel silly at the time.”

Luna nodded. “You have been sleep deprived for weeks. I’ve rarely seen any pony try to persevere under such conditions for so long.”

Some knot of something worked its way along Twilight’s brain, but failed to find purchase enough to make it out of her mouth. All she could manage was a shrug and a sigh. A touch came, along her mane, as she shut her eyes.

“Forgive me. Our mother used to do that when we were feeling ill. It’s hardly appropriate.”

Twilight shifted in the blankets. “My mom used to do that too. It’s okay.” She tried to find words for a moment. “Besides, I mean, it’s not like I could interpret that sexually, even with the way my brain keeps twisting and turning things into awfulness.”

“No, that -- no.” Luna hummed for a moment and withdrew her hoof. “If you don’t mind a question, are the nightmares always of a sexual nature?”

Twilight shifted uneasily. She stopped touching me. Why am I uneasy after she stopped? “Well, yeah. They’re terrible. I hate them and there’s . . . sometimes there are signs when I wake up. Scent. Spots. It’s worse, when, um, you know.”

“When you’re in season? Mmm, I could imagine.”

“Please don’t?” Twilight clamped down on the thought a moment after it’d gotten out of her mouth. Don’t say things like that. Why’d you say that? Have a good reason. She might ask. “S-Sorry, I don’t mean to sound weird and I know you wouldn’t think about a mare in heat or a stallion doing those things they do. Dirty awful stuff.“

Twilight forced herself to look over and met Luna’s gaze.

The Princess of the Night had a deeply furrow-knit brow, eyes that seemed to search, and her lips moved as if she were a filly reading to herself for the first time.

Twilight’s teeth ground against each other and she turned over. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I just -- sorry, d-do whatever you, I, uh, I shouldn’t have said anything and I’m sorry none of it m-made sense and -- “

“Twilight, it’s okay. Shhh. Just breathe, all right?”

Twilight couldn’t have stopped. Somehow, in the last few seconds, she’d run half a mile flat out and her lungs were still working overtime. No -- somehow, she was still racing. Something was wrong. Something was wrong and she needed to be anywhere else but she couldn’t do anything and she had to stay here or Luna was going to ask her what was wrong but Luna was going to do that anyway so she needed lies pretty lies that would cover up the ugly holes inside her shot through her nonsensical but definitely there scabby little holes that followed no rhyme or reason and had no purpose and --

“Twilight!” It was Princess Celestia’s voice.

Everything in Twilight’s head shut down for a second and she opened her eyes again. She took a shallow breath and processed what she could see.

No Celestia in sight. Luna’s bedchamber. It was Luna’s bedchamber, wasn’t it? Yes.

Thought gradually seeped back into the cracks in Twilight’s mind.

“Twilight, please forgive the use of illusion. I panicked a little and I know you respond to my sister’s voice rather, ah, attentively.”

Twilight took an even breath, then turned to look at Luna. Concern? Yes. Fear? Maybe. Something else, something she couldn’t work out. No disgust, though.

Why isn’t she disgusted? It didn’t make sense.

“It’s not okay.”

Luna blinked. “What’s not okay?”

“Those things in the dreams. The things that happen with mouths and bits and . . . all of it.”

Luna tilted her head. “Twilight, forgive a mare with a thousand years of experience for, ah, ‘playing a hunch’, but could you answer a question for me?”

Twilight hesitated. As much as she wanted to answer in the affirmative without reservation, some nagging shadow of fear slid along inside her brain. That question might as well have been a manticore. “I can try. I -- yes. I’ll try.”

Luna nodded. “That’s all one can ask of any mare, Twilight. One question, and if you cannot answer it, I believe that may be quite an answer itself.” The Princess took a deep breath, and a moment of silence came that only pulled at Twilight’s nerves.

“What does ‘normal sexual activity’ mean?”

Twilight blinked. That was absurd. Still, she wouldn’t have asked if she didn’t think it would cast some understanding on the problem, would she?

Twilight hesitated. “Is that the question? It’s how a mare and a stallion make foals. I wouldn’t want to go into details. It’s kind of gross.”

Luna’s ears shifted and she sighed. “Twilight, I have a hypothesis about what’s causing your nightmares. If I’m correct, then I owe you an apology and my condolences, because this will be a very difficult issue to try to resolve. If I’m wrong, then I believe we’ll find out very quickly.”

“News is news. Information is information. Tell me. Please.”

“First, if I’m correct, then I have failed you spectacularly. I will do my absolute utmost to ensure I do not fail you again in similar fashion.

“The hypothesis is a little complicated, and might seem impossible when I tell you it. This is because you may well be facing one of the greatest challenges of your adult life. Unfortunately, you haven’t got a lot of time to face it in. I can help you, and the bulk of the work will be in the years ahead of you, but the next week is crucial. The first steps will likely be the hardest.”

“I’m not a stranger to hard work, Princess. Tell me what to read. Tell me what to analyze.”

“This isn’t study, in a traditional sense, at least.” Luna’s eyes searched the floor, and then part of the bookshelf. “There will be analysis involved, but I do not believe it’ll be in the sense you are thinking.”

“Please, Luna. I don’t know how long my focus will be with me. While I’m holding together, tell me. The sooner I learn it, the sooner I can start working on it.”

Luna cleared her throat and nodded. “Very well. Twilight, the problem is psychological, and for lack of a better phrase, you are sexually repressed, I suspect due to some foalhood trauma.”