Dreams of Days Gone By

by Superluminous

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Dark, Sad
Length: 1384

Princesses rarely sleep, but when they do, their dreams are the most vivid of all.

Princess Celestia is sleeping for the first time in a few thousand years, so Luna joins her in her dreams, reliving their past and remembering forgotten history.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-24 01:30:01 UTC

Dreams of an Immortal

Princess Celestia, co-ruler of Equestria, bringer of the sun, "goddess", diplomat, chessmaster, manipulator, teacher, and my older sister, looked tired. She was lying on her bed, eyes half shut and unfocused, barely even looking up as I entered the room.

She had been ruling Equestria for thousands of years, raising the sun every day to allow life continue its wonderful developments. She had been monitoring her little ponies closely, making sure they were happy, improving their lives as much as was needed in the most subtle ways possible. She had been running the country efficiently and effectively, never once allowing failure of government, abusive laws or social strife come about, guarding the ponies she loved and ruled against the horrors only she and I had seen. She taught ponies of all races how to use their talents and took personal students who had the ability to do great things for others, given the means and a chance. She went along with the various religions claiming she was a goddess so as to keep them happy, though it was clear to those who knew her well that she thought little of the idea. She ended quarrels between the dragons and griffons before they even properly began, ensuring the safety of the one country separating the two nations, Equestria. She had done all of this and more, and it showed.

She loved her little ponies, but she also needed rest. As an immortal, rest wasn't necessary very often; she only slept every thousand years or so but, since becoming the ruler of Equestria and having a responsibility to protect her subjects, she hadn't. Four thousand years of monitoring the country and its neighbours, ensuring disasters were infrequent and subdued, redirecting or crushing plans to do harm to anypony, dragon or griffon, moving the sun and, for a thousand years, the moon. Yes, she loved her ponies and wanted to help them grow, help them thrive, but even the being controlling the sun has to rest at some point.

Having been trapped on the moon for a thousand years, I had been incapable of moving it, nearly powerless. I was forced to choose between watching the world go on without me as if I had never been necessary and sleeping. I chose the latter more often than the former. My sister had, in my absence, been moving not only the sun, but the moon as well. Constantly protecting her little ponies, she clearly loved them as her family. She was constantly striving to help them in every way, serving them more than they served her. Again, it showed.

While I had seen my sister tired before, usually after a major event like the rise of Discord or the first Griffonian Civil War, it usually passed quickly or was cured by a nap for a year or two. At this point, however, I was afraid that my sister would never wake up. She looked weak, hooves trembling and her ethereal mane limp, not even able to suppress the yawns that repeatedly overcame her, forced to accept the plague. Lying there, almost unmoving, I felt sorry for her. I had been tired before and it was horrible, but I had never even imagined a tiredness like that of my sister's. She was noticeably smaller than before, her magic drained and weak. Her mane had lost its shine and was twitching halfheartedly in the phantom wind, faltering and turning a flat pink at times. She looked younger, barely older than her student and her friends, but her face was old. She still hasn't noticed me, to busy trying to keep her eyes open and her mind ticking over.

After several minutes of watching her, hoping it would fade, I made my presence known, if only to confirm that she wasn't, in fact, in a form of coma. Finally noticing me, she groggily raised her head, trembling slightly as she did so, blinked and lowered it again. Confused, I walked over to her, unsure of my place in this event and wondering if there was a way for me to help. Upon reaching her bed, I lay down beside her and nuzzled her, hoping for a response. Her reaction was odd, yet not in a way that surprised me. I had been hoping it would be different, I guess.

She smiled, a tear running down her cheek, and whispered, so softly that I almost missed it, "Your turn, Luna. I'm tired. Look after them for me, would you?"

I nodded my reply and she sighed contentedly, no longer willing to keep herself from her dreams. Alicorn dreams are strange in comparison to the dreams of mortal ponies. Because we so rarely sleep and live so long, we use our dreams to remember events of importance to us that we may have forgotten in the course of our lives. Living for thousands of years, it's easy to forget our early centuries. Foalhood memories are important to us, and we treasure what we can remember. Sleep allows us recall these precious memories from their places in our minds and relearn forgotten lessons, correct false accounts of history and improve the understanding of the world, not just for ourselves, but for everypony.

Realising what was about to happen, I nudged her slightly, wishing to ask her something I about which I was curious. I wanted to experience my sister's dreams. We never dream about the same things. Usually we both slept at the same time, which removed any possibility of me being able to walk in her dreams. I knew we didn't share them, but I never found out exactly what it was my sister dreamed about.

Looking up, she didn't even need me to ask the question. She just nodded her head and asked me not to stay too long. I agreed and pulled her close, leaning against her small frame. With that, she fell asleep.

Then came the dreams, and they were dreams the likes of which I had never seen, and likely will never see again. They began with a mountain. It wasn't all that big, as mountains go, but it was significant in its own way. It was the one bright spot in a sea of darkness, one beacon of hope amidst the horrors of the world. It was a pillar of warmth in the frozen plains of the windigoes and frost giants. It was the Mountain of Dawn, home to Celestia and Luna, sisters and immortals. The world around them was destroyed, torn apart by hatred and despair. Food didn't grow, cooperation was nonexistent and war fractured families, stabbed at friendships and ruined lives. It was a dream of their home, our home. It was horrible, but I couldn't tear myself away.

The mountain, while a safe place to live in a cruel world, was protected by wards and shields created by our parents, eager to keep us safe. They, unlike us, were gods, monitoring every world and helping move them in the right directions, changing the climates slightly to allow better food growth, causing earthquakes that, while seemingly dangerous, changed the balance of the world just enough to allow a certain species discover metals and rocks of use and value, allowing creation of better tools and the beginning of trade. They tinkered with the orbits of planets, creating seasons and temperature differences to allow life develop a sense of time and urgency when growing food, knowing to collect it all before it withered in the winter of that planet. They monitored the universe, making sure it ran smoothly. Then they decided that their daughters, Celestia and Luna, my sister and I, would get to live on a small planet at the centre, controlling the sun and moon both there and everywhere else. Left on the Mountain of Dawn, surrounded by impenetrable shields and protective wards to keep us safe until we were ready to do our work, keeping time and our world running perfectly. The sun and moon, controlled by our mother and father, moved every day and we learned the pattern, knowing the importance of keeping things smooth.

And then they stopped. Our parents stopped visiting, the sun and moon stopped moving and the Twilight took over. So began the Times Forgot