Princess Luna, Diarch of Equestria, Overseer of the Arts, Goddess of the Moon.
Dot.
Princess Luna, Diarch of Equestria, Overseer of the Arts, Goddess of the Moon.
Dot.
Princess Luna, Diarch of Equestria, Overseer of the Moon, Goddess of the Arts.
Dot.
Princess Luna, Diarch of the Moon, Overseer of the Goddess, Moon-
Sighing and closing my eyes, I crumple up the errant paperwork and toss it into the fire. Nopony will miss it, anyway. It's probably some earmark for a noble house or something. Putting the quill back in its well, I shove it and its compatriot – a sizable stack of menialities requiring my signature – to the edge of my desk.
I peek open again and examine my writing surface. A slate of onyx sits on ebony legs, the gem's edges trimmed with a thin layer of silver. It's messy, papers and inkwells mixed up with trinkets and regalia. My crown is in there somewhere, I think.
But I like this desk. It's small and compact, for a princess, that is. I can just about reach from one end to the other, and it doesn't stretch out too far. Yes, technically there isn't much of a physical issue because of magic, but that seems cheating, in a way.
A knock on my door.
“Come in,” I answer. It's Ceylon, with her auburn head and mahogany mane sticking inside the room. Her dark eyes settle on me and she smiles.
“I have your tea, Princess. Just as you like it.” Her voice is thick and sweet, almost like honey. She smiles even wider and steps in the room, donned in a white apron and levitating a tray before her. It holds a china teapot and a set of respective teacups, along with containers of sugar and honey.
“Ceylon, what would I ever do without you?” I mutter as I go about shuffling papers, making sure there is enough room. An inkwell tumbles off the desk and shatters on floor, splotching ink everywhere.
She wraps up the spilled ink and glass shards in her magic, depositing it in a nearby waste bin. “Me? Oh please, Princess, I'm just doing my job.”
“Does your job require you to know exactly when I need a pot of tea to raise my spirits?” I ask with the creep of a smile. “Or understanding which blends to serve at certain parts of the day?”
Ceylon chuckles as she sets down the tray. “Well that's easy, Princess. You only drink one kind.”
“That's true,” I grin in return, “I am growing rather fond of Earl Grey.”
She nods. “That's a way of putting it. It seems we're down five pounds this week, and you're the only pony having it!”
“Ceylon!” I gasp in mock astonishment as I pour myself a cup.
“Jesting, Your Highness.” She smiles as she does a small curtsy. “If there's nothing else you need, I'll be going. It seems you have your hooves full at the moment.”
“More than you know,” I remark as she exits through the door. Levitating a stack of papers, a quill, and an inkwell out from the wreckage, I take a sip as I read the first bill over.
I sigh as the liquid begins to warm me from the inside out. Tea had always been a favorite, but by the stars, somepony had hit the nail right on the head while I was gone. Whoever had the wonderful idea of adding bergamot oil to scale back the bitterness of black tea is a genius.
Focus, Luna, focus. You've just read half a page and registered not a single word.
-upon which the allotted funds shall be transferred to Trottingham Hotspur F.C. for the creation of a new stadium which will seat 61,391 occupants...
I can't do this.
The papers rattle as they smash and flutter along the floor.
This is all just so stupid. I praise my sister on all she's done while I was gone – on her own, no less – but I find I am no more than a glorified stamp now. I'm stuck in my room, chained to stacks of paper while the rest of the world buzzes around me. I sit, I hum, I sigh, and I feel as if I'm less equine than before. Nightmare Moon may have well left me to rot on that hunk of rock.
Ugh.
...Besides, no Chelsneigh fan would sign that bill.
From the clutter of the desk I levitate a blue and white scarf, made from soft wool with the club's crest adorned at each end. Twilight got me it almost a year back, after she took me to see a hoofball match. A wonderful new sport, I must add, much more engaging than jousting or wrestling. Very tactical and easy to pick up, not to mention that watching it is an event all in its own. The chanting, the singing, the cheering, it makes a pony feel accepted and welcomed.
Ah, but I'm rambling now. I press the scarf up to my face and exhale, letting my shoulders fall. If there's anypony keeping me sane, it's her; it's Twilight. I still cannot understand how she does it, but her organizational skills manage to clear up pockets of time when I need it most. A few hours in the garden, a night at the theatre, albeit under magical guise, and yes, a saturday morning hoofball match; they all pop into existence amongst the needs of Equestria.
She draws the line for me, between necessities that rot and delights that sustain. I look down at my teacup. Well, mostly. There are a few delights I can still pick out myself, but they're not enough.
At first, I felt ashamed to lean on somepony so heavily. I have five thousand years of conscious experience on my hooves, I should be wise enough to carry my own woes and fashion them into gems of happiness and well-being, right? Isn't that how those stories work? The old stallion finds the good in everything, and in his grueling, dreary efforts he wholeheartedly enjoys the trickle-down happiness of his misery.
But I can't. I can't isolate my sensations to admit only glimmers of joy from a thin stream of logic. I find myself feeling too much, taking everything I come across with some sort of emotional backlash. Rough waves pound against my mind, not the lull of a lazy current, and it's when I feel like I'm drowning do I realize I need her.
Like Ceylon, she always seems to appear when I need her most, and furthermore, she appears to know what I need most. It's a walk in the garden when I need to breathe, it's ninety minutes at Stampede Bridge when I need to yell, scream, or laugh, it's a tragedy at Harnessey Hall when I need to cry. I don't know how she does it.
I take the scarf away from my face and wrap it around my neck. The fireplace might make the room warm, but it's not cozy. As much as I'd like to lie back on my bed, stretch out, and get comfortable, I have to work. The scarf will do.
I levitate the previous bill up from the floor and pull out my quill, scribbling away signatures wherever I must. My existence for the next five hours is starting to look bleak, but for a pony like me I guess I can't hope for much better.
-~-
“Good evening, sister.”
I look up from my papers. Celestia is standing before me, waiting on the other side of the desk and drinking from one of my teacups. Also, evening? Has it really been that long?
I put my quill back and rub my eyes. “Good evening,” I reply with a yawn. “Is something the matter, Celly?”
Sitting down, my sister shrugs. “I don't know, is there?”
Chills race down my spine and settle in my gut. “What do you mean?” I ask, trying to keep up a facade. I know it's not perfect and Celestia does too. I was never as good as her, and I never will be.
“Luna,” Celestia sighs. She lets her face fall, the plastic sheen from a day at court crumbling away. “You've hardly come out of your room in a week. I've only seen you at dinner on a hoofful of occasions, and barring Night Court, I'm not sure you talk to anypony besides the castle staff these days. What's the matter?”
I look away and grumble, “I've been busy.”
She pays my excuse no attention, looking at me almost as if I were a statue or a gravestone. “I want to know because, well, we're starting to get worried.”
I look up at her, holding her gaze with the tilt of my head.
“Yes, not just me, Twilight is concerned too.” Celestia looks to the ground, shaking her head. “I- I don't know what's going on between you two-”
Blood roars in my ears, and my cheeks flush. My jaw drops further open as I fail to repress a shudder. We're friends. In an effort to compose myself, I shoot my sister the hardest leer I can summon.
“-but I can tell that she cares, Luna.” My glare is deflected as she doesn't even bother to look at me. “And I do too. I know we don't get as much time to talk nowadays, but I still miss it. I miss your laughter, your dry, sarcastic jokes, your wonderfully creative ideas, no matter how crazy they seem.” She tries to smile but it only lasts a moment as she pauses. “I don't know where it's gone. I don't understand, I just can't figure out why, why you-” She closes her eyes and exhales.
After a moment and a half of silence, Celestia glances back up at me. “I miss you, sister.”
Ouch.
“I've been busy,” I mutter, echoing myself. I'm at a loss of anything substantial to say, because, well... I'm busy. I have work to do. I really wish I didn't, but I do, and that's that. I try really hard to get caught up and clear up some time, but I can't. I'm a ruler of Equestria and I have a duty to my ponies to look out for them, to make sure nopony tries to do them wrong. Can't you see, sister? I just want to look after my little ponies. I don't want anything bad to happen to them, again.
“Luna, I understand you take your duties very seriously, which I admire, but all this extra work isn't necessary.”
Isn't necessary? Of course it's necessary!
Celestia lifts up a stack of papers, flipping through it. “Look at all of this. Every municipal bill from the province of Haliflanks, down to the town level, from the past month. Luna, you don't need to do this,” she pleads.
“I do!” I protest, trying to tug back the tower of paperwork.
Celestia's grip holds like steel, and the look she gives me does the same. “No, you don't. Luna, there's a system in place to handle this. Town boards, governors, provincial senates, they were all designed to avoid-” she waves her hoof in my general direction, “-this.”
She doesn't understand. She doesn't get it. I'm the upstanding pony here, I'm the one who should be praised, not burden with guilt and ill-feeling. I am working day and night to make things better, to repair the damage, and for my efforts all I'm getting is a lecture.
“This,” I slam my hoof down on the desk, my crown jumping from the mess and clattering along the floor, “is the only way I can ensure Equestrians aren't taken advantage of.” I'm standing up now, and my legs are trembling. “I'm just doing what I can to help as many ponies as possible.”
“And are you sure this is helping?” Celestia counters, her voice rising. “Do you know for certain that all your misery is for the best?” She takes the packet that, until recently, had been my pillow. “Let's have a look, shall we?” She begins skimming through.
“What are you doing?” I cry. “I know perfectly well-”
“This is an appropriation of yearly cultural enrichment grants towards the expansion of a hoofball stadium, correct?” Celestia continues, reading straight from the abstract, her tone dropping into the hum of analysis and quantitative thinking, “Thirty million bits is to be used to subsidize the stadium's additional construction, which will employ nearly five hundred ponies for ten months, as well as purchase materials from domestic companies. Furthermore-”
“Stop this at once!”
“Furthermore,” Celestia's voice roars, “projections determine that due to the increase of 25,151 seats, club membership will rise by 35 percent, and the board intends to reserve 7,000 seats for a family section to allow younger fans to enjoy the matches without the banter and loud atmosphere of other areas. Lastly, with the higher capacity allowing more ponies to convene for match days, it is projected that nearby businesses will earn an additional, if modest, six million bits per year.”
I stand there, my mind reeling from Celestia's emotional outlash. An uncomfortable, bothersome feeling comes over me, as if I've been embarrassed, guilted, and mocked all at once. I shouldn't be. I'm still doing the right thing. I'm working my hooves to the bone, and I'm sure my efforts aren't in vain. Celestia's just-
“Now,” the smack of an inch of paper on the desk accents Celestia's renewed assault, “I don't know one single thing about hoofball, but I'm damn sure that this fits under 'cultural enrichment'.”
Celestia swore. Celestia never swears. Ever.
“Look,” she presses on. “This has passed straight through Trottingham's senate, as well as its governor.” She flips through, holding it in front of my face. Part of me wants to stuff it down her throat, but all I can do is stand and stare. “Then why, in the name of Tartarus, is it getting sent to you?”
“Under Equestrian Law,” I begin after seconds of silence, offering a tall-sounding but feeble resistance, “federal requests down to the town level still require my signature. There was new legislature that relinquished town and provincial proposals from our oversight, requiring only a governor's approval, but I started requiring all towns and provinces to continue sending their requests-”
“What?” Celestia fumed. “Why? Why would that ever sound like a plausible idea? Do you understand how much you've backed up not only Equestria's mail service, but the kingdom as well?”
I bite my lip. It hurts, but not as much as the slap across the face I'm getting. “Yes. But I felt it was the only way to ensure everypony gets treated fairly.”
“Fairly?” Celestia shakes her head. “Take a look, right here.” She puts the packet in front of me again, flipping to the final page. “Right here, you deny authorization for this plan to go forward. Why? Tell me.”
“...Because I didn't think it was an appropriate use of Equestria's funds,” I answer. I feel myself starting to slink back, but I can't stop. Celestia is nearly leaning over the desk, her face tinted pink.
“Because you didn't think,” Celestia repeats, placing emphasis on the last word. “Tell me, when was the last time you visited Trottingham? In fact, where have you been besides Canterlot and Ponyville in the last three years?”
The room stops silent, and I don't even bother to formulate a response. It's taking every ounce of willpower I have to remain upright.
“I thought so. And still, you think you have license to decide the fate for millions of ponies, even though you have no clue how they live their lives. Is that it?” Celestia pulls down on her mane with her forehooves, shaking her head for the umpteenth time. “Why are you doing this Luna? What dark sorcery convinced you to do this?” Her voice drops to something softer, her stalwart intuition shining through, “What are you trying to prove? Who are you trying to prove wrong?”
Sniffling, I can feel the first tears beginning to roll down my cheeks, burning red hot trails from my eyes. My mind fogs up, my heart begins to pound, and my vision blurs.
“Myself,” I utter, defeated and devastated.
Celestia's eyes light up in an instant of understanding, and then her whole posture slumps. She backs off, away from the desk, and seeks to go around it. “Lulu,” she coos my nickname, “I'm- I'm sorry.”
I backpedal, wanting nothing to do with her. “Stop,” I manage, “go away.”
She winces, my dagger of words stabbing right through her. “I- I really am sorry, Luna,” she tries again. “I should have realized sooner.”
“I mean it.” My voice rises, and she shies away. My conscience is being torn up, but I'm also met with instant gratification. “Get out.”
Her expression clearly in anguish, Celestia tries one last attempt. “Please, Luna, please don't do this. You're my sister and I- I love you, I was just trying to make sure you were okay.”
“Leave!” I scream. “Get out and leave me alone!” I watch as she sags further to the floor. “I don't need you or anypony else!” Another line bubbles into my conscious. Alarm bells activate in my mind, but my emotions deafen me to their ringing. “I spent a thousand years without you already, I don't think an extra century would be too hard!”
If Celestia's heart was the sun, it seems to have frozen over in that moment.
The ever-present light in her pupils snuff out. Her rump hits the floor as her hindlegs give up. Everything I associate with my sister crumbles to dust as her chin trembles, her essence bereft of confidence and spirit, while her mane falls onto her shoulders.
She doesn't even have the strength to keep up her tiny, little spell. My brief taste of victory comes crashing down to the ground. What have I done?
From her choked sob, I can see the glimmers beginning to trace from her eyes. Pain of the highest degree is displayed brightly across her face, remaining speechless as her mind begins to reboot. Her sobbing intensifies, her lips warped down, tears continuing to fall as she expects another barrage.
But it never comes. I remained rooted to my throne of knives, unable to leave and unable to move. We standoff for a moment more, but nothing happens. Celestia is just sitting there, crying, and I won't do a thing.
Whirling around, she gets up from the floor and trots away. I may not know her as well as she knows me, but if it weren't for the castle staff, she'd be galloping at full pace. She closes the door behind her softly, so as not to disturb anypony.
I sit, and I feel nothing. Empty, hollow, void of light, my mind register nothing. My line of sight dims around its center, tunnel vision honing in on the doors she left through. I stare for so long my eyes begin to burn, but I can't look away. All I can do is hope and pray she comes back.
I didn't mean it, I swear.
I just wanted to be... to be helpful. I was trying my best, I put all my efforts into this, and- and...
When you proved to me I wasn't doing anything right, I got mad. At myself, I mean, not you. I just felt so stupid and utterly incompetent, that I was, well...
A failure.
I shouldn't have taken it out on you.
I blink.
Fresh tears stain the carpet below as I slowly rouse my fragile form into action. Energy evacuates my system as I near the bed.
I'm sorry.
-~-
Thud thud thud thud thud.
“Luna! I know you're in there!”
I feel sickly hot, my blankets damp with sweat. I groan, with a horrid taste in my mouth and my throat sore.
Thud thud thud.
“Luna, open up!”
A quick pulse of magic undoes the lock's tumblers, and the heavy ebony door creaks open. I lie in bed, eyes closed, completely sapped.
Hooves trot across the room. “Luna! Get up! What did you do?”
“Go away, Twilight,” I mumble, pushing my face back into the pillows.
“Really? Are you kidding me?” Cool air washes over my torso as I'm hoisted upright against the headboard. “Celestia is utterly inconsolable in her room right now-” my ears flatten against my head “-mumbling on about how she's failed and that you hate her.”
I crack open my eyes. Twilight is glaring down at me, irises ablaze. Her horn is flared, splashing light across the room.
“I want you to tell me what you said to her,” she continued. “Now.”
I try to fight her, but I'm losing fast. Her leer is hammering down on me like steel, crushing me into the floor. She's really, really angry with me, and that hurts almost as much as seeing Celestia break down. I... I don't want her to hate me.
“I- we got in an argument.” I mumble, looking away.
“Go on.”
“She came in and started pestering me about why I was in my room so much.” I glance back up to Twilight, but she remains silent. “When she found out what I was doing, we-” I can't find the right words. Eventually I muster a murmur, “She proved that I wasn't helping anypony.”
If there's anypony I can confide in this with, it's Twilight. Even with her fury towards me, there's no other pony than Celestia that I feel comfortable talking about feelings with. With a deep breath, I try my best to forget the churning ocean before me, and simply leap forward.
“I got so mad,” I continue, “and it wasn't with her.”
“Then- then who was it?” Twilights demands.
I look up to her. “Myself, of course. I was angry that I couldn't have done better, that no matter what I've done or what I'll do, I will ever be good enough.”
Twilight's scowl dies into a frown, but I can't stop the torrent now.
“I thought I knew what I was doing. I believed I was helping other ponies, standing up for them and, despite my physical exhaustion, I felt proud. Then, to hear that I'm only making things worse, I couldn't handle it.”
I hold her gaze. “I said some things I will never be able to take back, and I can feel the weight on my shoulders grow. What do I do now, Twilight? Of course, an apology is more than due, but after that, then what?
“What can I possibly salvage from my tatters of confidence? Is there anything for me here? Time and time again I've proved I'm incapable of success, and I'm beginning to tire. My efforts have constantly been reduced before my eyes, my ideas exhausted, and now I'm left wondering if I should even bother with anything at all. If it weren't for the fact I raise the moon each night, I'd be useless.”
Twilight sits down beside me, not a trace of anger left. “Don't say that, Luna,” she murmurs. “You've made a mistake, everypony does. All we can do is learn from them and continue on our way.”
I look to her. On any other day, she'd strike me as beautiful, but right now I can't be pressed for an answer, or even a feeling. “But there lies the problem, in that I never seem to learn. I keep making mistakes, over and over, with no end in sight. I just-” I sigh and close my eyes. It doesn't matter, really.
“You what?” Twilight pries.
“I want to be better. I want to do something right, and do it well. I want just a small bit of recognition for how hard I work, but mostly, I just want somepony to care.”
“I care,” Twilight whispers.
“I know, and I'm thankful for that, but I-”
“No, Luna, I care about you.” She places her hoof over mine, her voice still a whisper yet more intense than a billion suns. “I know the past few hours have been hard, and I can sympathize with the pain you're feeling, so if there's something, anything I can do,” her eyes search my face, “tell me. Whatever you need, from the smallest errand to the biggest idea, I will do whatever I can to help.”
“I don't know what to say,” I mutter. I can't comprehend the influx of feelings racing through my body, the coldest of self-loathing mixing with the warmest of love. Paralyzed, I stay still, leaning against the headboard.
“I can speak for the both of us,” Twilight offers, before she moves in and places a kiss on my lips. Then another, and another. All the while, I remain frozen, unsure of how to respond. I close my eyes, unsure of what to say, my mouth opening agape for words unheard.
Twilight kisses me again, and holds it this time, trying her best to revive my broken spirit. She wraps me in her hooves, hold me tight, and presses hard.
But there is no reply. I can't do a thing. She deserves somepony better. Somepony with more vitality, more spirit and joy. I'd be an anchor, a heavy suitcase with so much baggage that at any moment it could explode. I don't know what she sees in me, but she probably doesn't see it all.
Twilight wants this to work, I can tell, as she slumps into bed beside me. She brushes a hoof against my cheek, hugging me closer in vain. She strokes my hair, rubs my back, but all of her efforts come to nothing. I... I can't let her do this, as much as I may want to.
If I have to do something “right”, then this is it.
The pace of her kissing slows, until it is just her lips against mine, her chest rising and falling as the rest of the world stands still. We lie there as one, but so very far apart.
She nuzzles my cheek, sniffling before she asks, “Is there really nothing I can do?”
“No,” I croak, “there isn't.”
The blankets rustle and the weight beside me slowly shifts off the bed.
“O- okay. I... I hope you feel better soon.”
I open my eyes. The tears are there, streaking down her cheeks.
“Thank you,” I mumble as impassively as I can.
“Goodnight,” she finishes with the dip of her head. She trots out of the room, closing the door behind her.
I lie down, staring at the ceiling above. The room is enveloped in darkness, not that I wanted to see anything, anyway. Apathy begins its envelopment once again, shielding away the world. But a sliver holds firm, burning through into existence whether I like it or not.
“I'm sorry.”
