My Gift

by CadenceofRain

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Dark
Length: 3030

The transformation of Princess Luna into Nightmare Moon, as told from her perspective.

The transformation of Princess Luna into Nightmare Moon, as told from her perspective.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-11-23 17:30:03 UTC

The End

The poor little pegasus. My convulsions seem to scare him. Another nameless puppet of that awful pony. He is here to deliver a message. I ask him what it is. My tone is harsh, but I do not care. He has interrupted my thoughts, and therefore, earned my anger. Even if he is on orders from her. He speaks. I listen.

I know not why I bother. I already know what he is going to say.

She wants to see me again. Of course she does. She wants to see everything, she wants to raise her burning orb into the sky, illuminating absolutely everything with its sickening light. Sister has always wanted to see clearly, to extend her reach and prying eyes into everypony, much like the disgusting rays of light extend from her sun.

No… not Sister. Not even Tia. Not anymore. Celestia.

The name makes me taste bile in the back of my throat. She is of no relation to me. I refuse to associate with her through blood, to lower myself to that level any longer. Nothing she can possibly say can change the way that I feel now.

But these are not feelings. These are fragments of knowledge. I know. I know, because I have been under the sun for too long. Under the sun you can see everything. She didn't count on me realizing that. She didn't count on this. What a blind, pathetic foal.

As I walk down the marble corridor after shooing the pathetic, quivering mess of a pegasus out of my sight, my diamond glass shoes create a predictable melody. Stepping in time. Stepping predictably. It needs to stop. I begin to run.

…there. Staccato noises, wild and free, drawing the attention of those beneath us. No… beneath me. Celestia does not deserve the distinction of Goddess, not anymore. Not after what she has done. Everypony has stared into the sun for so long that they have become blind. Not I.

Not I.

Not I.

I can see the truth behind the situation. I can see how they judge me, how they distrust me, and perhaps they are right to do so. After all, I will be taking away what they love most. I will remove her from her shining throne of white marble, and put her where she belongs, face-down in the cold mud. I will tear her down from the sky and hold her against the dirty, unforgiving earth as her own creation burns her wings into cinders. She must feel what I feel. What we all feel. I am to be the liberator. I will show them the beauty in darkness, and the fallacy in light.

Light. What a disgusting notion. Revealing all, and for what? To point out everypony's flaws? To showcase Celestia's splendor and superiority?

Another jitter runs up along my neck, sending my mane to swirl about my face as I continue to gallop. Like tiny threads of a spider's web, the silky hair passes over my skin. The tips of my mane are slick with nervous sweat. The sensation is cold. I like it. So unlike the warmth brought on by day. Day. Day is the problem. In the day, we are all under her watchful, authoritative eye.

No more.

That was the first thing that she taught me. She who understands me. She who will assist in swallowing the sun. At first, I thought that she was a different pony entirely. A spirit. An ancient evil, as that overlarge foal sitting upon her comfortable pillows had referred to her. But no.

No. She is so much more.

She is me. I am her. I am Nightmare Moon, and nopony else.

The doors open at my command. My command. Not Celestia's. Mine.

My teeth grind against each other behind my lips. That point is crucial. Even if these thoughts are my own, and nopony else can hear them. This power belongs to me. Mine. She is not involved. The doors continue to move, and I add extra magical force to emphasize the point. I fling them back with no concern for damaging the polished golden wood or the white marble walls to which they are attached. Celestia's colors.

They will need to be replaced.

I advance along the carpet, taking my time. Taking her time. Time measured by the position of the sun. That selfish, arrogant, presumptuous mare. Not everypony sees things the way that you do. You are not right. You do not rule the day.

Arrogant. Arrogant, condescending... arrogant. How I loathe her. If only I had seen sooner...

Arrogant.

Soon, there will be no more day...

She asks if I am doing well. Nopony is doing well. What a stupid question. For all of her education, she is but a filly. An eternal diplomat, seeking to please. So idealistic. So stupid. So hopeless. She must be removed. We all suffer under the burning wrath of her glorified star. The stars are mine. She stole that one from me, and made it her own. Made it bigger than the rest. Made it more important. Soon, it will shrink and retake its place among its brothers.

The thought of her treachery causes me to bite down harder, upon my tongue this time. I want to scream. I resist. I continue biting until I taste blood. Cold, metallic blood. A prelude to the amount to be spilled when the time comes. The meager offering with suffice for the moment.

I want hers. I want to watch it paint a pattern across the shining marble. I want to watch her fall, and I want to be the cause. Patience.

As I sit before her, completely uninterested in her words, my eye twitches. The slight vibration feels wonderful. I feel as though I am on the edge of bursting, of lashing out and deposing her right now. Blood. I want to see it.

I continue to bite. I finally release. I want to be able to speak as I watch the life leave her eyes. I have too much to say.

But I can't. Not yet. Not now. I have to bide my time. It would not feel right. I cannot remove her during the day. It must be at night, under cover of darkness. Wonderful, fair, enveloping darkness.

She shifts uncomfortably and calls me Lulu. She dares call me that, and ask once again if something is the matter? I am Nightmare Moon, and I shall be addressed as such. I may look like the pony once called Luna, but even that will change. Soon, very soon.

Again. Again. That vile name, the one that she crafted for me. It is so obvious now that it is meant as an insult.

Arrogance.

Lulu. Lulu. The sound of it makes me want to vomit. So repetitious, an 'L', a 'u', an 'l', a 'u'. Over and over. The same thing again. Just like day and night. I tire of repetition.

I tire of day and night. Their distinction. It is needless.

I tire of her.

It is oh so obvious, reflecting upon her chosen name for me. She is the 'L', capital and larger. Overshadowing the rest of the word, and acting as the beginning. Just as day overshadows night. Day before night. My time is last. Disgusting unfairness. Disgusting superiority. Disgusting daylight. Disgusting.

Disgusting.

I snort at her and narrow my eyes, watching as her own widen in shock. Be afraid, Celestia. Tuck your hoof under yourself in a gesture of uncertainty and protection. It will not save you. Look into my eyes, and see what you have created. What your arrogance has done. What happens when nopony appreciates my marvelous creations. Mine.

She does. She does not like what she sees. I do not care.

If she wants me to be the 'u', the inferior, the ending of her beginning, then I shall become it. I will be the 'u'.

The Umbra. The Undertaker. The undoing of her cursed sunlight.

I am the 'u'. The Unappreciated. The Undeserving. The only pony to understand.

Her day is oppressive. My night is liberating.

The sun burns. Its influence and uncomfortable warmth seeps beneath the fur, straight to the skin. I can feel it burning in the summer months. Judging. Peeling. Ripping back my flesh and exposing the pony underneath. I do not like the sensation. I cannot be the only one. I am a private pony by nature. Introverted. Not a public figure and emotionally open like her. She cannot understand. She needs to see inside me. I will not let her.

Curse the dreadful sun and its nosy harbinger.

The moon soothes. It heals. It provides only enough light to capture the beauty and mysteriousness present in all things. The uncertainty that she wishes to take away. I will not let her.

I will not let her.

There is romanticism in darkness. How can she not see?

How can they not see?

Why do they refuse to see?

A memory. Two fillies, one of them myself. The other a creature I used to hold dear. No longer. Not after what she has become.

We gallop through an open field, our legs brushing against the dewdrops clinging to each blade of grass. We dance freely in the wind, our manes flowing and intertwining. We embrace. She laughs. I laugh as well.

I have not laughed in a long time.

She leads me to a pond. A pond far away from the castle, in the middle of Everfree. She laughs and points her hoof to the surface of the water. I look into the liquid mirror. I do not like what I see.

A reflection. A reflection of myself, as I once was. She moves to stand behind me, and it becomes so clear.

I am darkness, she is light. I am shunned, and she is favored. I am nothing but her shadow.

My mother raises the moon, our signal to hurry back home. I am not old enough to do it yet. Someday, I will be. Someday, I will be given a responsibility that rivals the one Celestia will inherit. And still, I do not find it fair.

She looks up at the rising orb. The same color as her fur.

It would be. Everything was always about her.

She comments that we need to return home. I continue to stare at the water. She is no longer reflected after having moved too far from the pool. I can still see myself. It is better this way.

She begs. She does not want to get in trouble. I tell her that I do not care. She tugs my mane. I continue to sit, letting the sensation of the cooling earth against my hindquarters bring me comfort.

She tries to pull me backward with magic. I scream as I am carried through the air. So unfair. So unfair.

So unfair.

My heart burns with jealousy. The seed has burst, and the roots extend downward. Downward into the darkness. The memory ends.

In the present, her shadow looms over me. It is unacceptable. Soon, shadows will not exist to make us feel inferior. No more shadows. No more light.

Shadows do not exist in darkness. Not in true darkness. The darkness that I will bring. Everypony cries out in terror when I ask them about the blackness of night. They are afraid. They do not understand. They tell me that they need light. That they know more than me.

Arrogance.

They cannot see as I see.

All are equal under cover of darkness. Nopony is flawed, and all appear the same. We can speak without maintaining appearances. We can celebrate without being ridiculed. Under the cold embrace of the dark, nopony need ever worry what another thinks of them.

I will bring eternal darkness.

It will be a gift.

A gift that they do not wish to receive. I will make them appreciate it.

She rises from her seat of authority, and quickly trots down the steps to my level. Her golden shoes echo in rhythm. No surprise. Her face is full of worry. I can see the hints of moisture building at the edges of those revolting eyes.

Good. Cry, Celestia. When all is dark, you will finally be allowed to. Nopony will be able to tell. My gift, to you.

Assuming I let you live.

She comments on my disheveled mane. My ragged fur. The dirt clinging to my body. She asks where I have been, what I have been doing, why I have not been present.

Judging me. Insulting me. Pointing out my flaws and veiling it behind the guise of concern for her little sister.

I am not her sister.

I am not her sister.

I snort. I stomp. My shoes clink against the floor. A wondrous sound, one that disrupts the sweet melody of her voice.

If you consume too many sweet things, you eventually become sick.

Mother always told me that. Mother was right.

Lulu. Lulu. Lulu. She dares.

I snarl. My upper lip pulls back, and I show my teeth to her. My voice comes out in a rasp, one that almost surprises me. The rage behind it, the murderous intent. I can feel it. I mean it. She shrinks back in horror as I tell her my name. I choke midway through the words, and have to start again. My lungs feel as though they are filled with dust. I scream my name once again. I laugh.

A cold, calculating laugh. The laugh of a victor. Simply being makes me better than her, now. She is nothing.

She orders the guards to restrain me. Several jump forward. None lay a hoof upon me.

I have always been faster than her, both on hoof and on the wing. She seals the doors shut with a blast of pink magic. She knows what it means. She knows that her time is coming to an end.

She knows.

But it cannot be now. Our fight cannot start here. I will not allow it. Whatever she said, I did not hear. I do not care. I must escape.

Repetition is no longer a concern. I let my hooves do as they please as I bowl her over in my haste to leave this forsaken throne room. A white pegasus in golden armor falls to the floor, stumbling as he attempts to grab me. I step on his neck as I continue to flee. I do not know if I injured him. I do not know if I crushed his throat.

I do not care.

Celestia screams my name as she gallops after me. I stop short behind her throne, looking desperately for an exit. There is nowhere to go. I am trapped. I may have to turn and fight. I may have to assume my new body now, before I am ready.

No.

One option remains.

She screams my name. Not my name. What used to be my name. The passion and pain in her voice is almost enough to stop me.

Almost. But I can see the truth now. I know what I must do.

Multicolored glass fragments fly around me as the garish window shatters under the stress that my body causes it upon impact. Thousands of tiny prismatic knives pierce into my fur. I look back to see rivulets of scarlet trailing through the air, accented by the light reflecting off of the miniscule shards all around me. They fall to the forest floor below.

I do not.

I flap as hard as I am able to. The nights of no sleep have taken a toll on my body, and only now do I regret not attempting to rest. This pain… the shards… they are embedded in my skin, causing me great discomfort.

Much like sunlight does.

I spare a glance behind me as I fly, slaloming through the trees as quickly as I can. She does not pursue. Nopony pursues. Good. I would hate to have to kill them.

I love my subjects, even if they do not love me. I will give them a gift. They will appreciate it.

They will appreciate it.

When they come to see the beauty in darkness, they will sing my praises. But I am getting ahead of myself. I must continue flying.

Hours pass. Or minutes. I do not know. I do not care. Nothing matters other than the pull in my hindquarters. The familiar sensation causes me to smile as I fly. As I land.

As I crash, more weary than I had thought I was.

I roll through the mud, dirtying my coat even more as I go. My cutie mark still tingles. It is time. So close.

The sun falls below the far mountains, and a feeling of elation swims up through my breast, snaking up my neck and making itself known via my smile. She has lowered the sun. The day has ended.

And it will never come again.

I raise the moon. I paint a generous swath of stars across the canvas of the blackened night sky. A night that everypony is about to become very familiar with. I will ease them in at first. It need not be total darkness for the first few cycles of my rule, so long as I can get rid of her.

Slowly, I rise, using magic to pick the glass shards from my fur. Several are stuck deep into my flesh, and removing them causes blood to trail down around my stomach. I watch as it drips into the dirt. I smile.

I can still feel pain. I am still alive. I have not gone mad.

I am right.

The palace stands as an affront to my senses in the distance. Tomorrow, I will go back there, in my new body, and wrest the tyrant from her throne of lies.

No. Not tomorrow.

Tomorrow implies that there will be a sunrise.

I laugh wickedly as realization dawns upon me. I need not even wait a day. Day is no longer a concept.

Eternal night will reign.

Soon.

Very soon.