Sogni Infetti

There was only one throne room in Canterlot Castle, and only one throne. For a thousand years, that had been enough. This was no longer the case.

Luna squirmed on the uncomfortable chair. It wasn’t designed for her, and, no matter what her sister claimed, she didn’t believe for a second that it was as disagreeable for Celestia. Their old thrones had never been so bad. Then again, Celestia always had something to do when she sat upon the stiff chair.

Rather than dwell on her annoyance and agitation, Luna turned toward her seneschal and gave a reluctant nod. The twitch of Soft Whisper’s leathery wings was the only sign that she shared her princess’ displeasure. At the seneschal's bellow, twenty four heads bowed and turned to leave, exiting without complaint to do… whatever they did with their—all too common—hours of unscheduled free time. Only Soft Whisper and two other sarosins stayed behind to escort their princess wherever she decided to go.

No pony spoke as Luna led them out the side exit. The guards were too busy being guards, while Luna and Whisper had already discussed every topic which needed her attention. She was grateful for the quiet. Conversation seemed like it would take far more interest than she could muster at the moment.

The trek to her private apartments took forever, no matter that only a scant few minutes had passed. The plush carpets did nothing to quiet their steps, each hoof fall ringing in Luna’s ears, pounding like a minotaur’s war drum to sound retreat. She was fleeing, running from a foe that failed to even notice her existence.

It had been nearly two years since her return, and the number of ponies who sought her over Celestia could be counted on the first bar of her abacus. That wasn’t to say she had no work or responsibilities. Celestia ensured that was not the case. No, it was that the only ponies who came to her were those in her own employ or who had been redirected to her as a matter of course. She tried reminding herself that most ponies slept at night, but it never seemed to help.

When they came upon her sister’s door—the two guards outside snapping to attention—she considered entering and seeking comfort.

Though Celestia was undoubtedly fast asleep, she would be nothing but welcoming to Luna. She would wake up groggy and a little bemused, but upon seeing Luna all that would fall away. Her silk covers would pull back and a wing spread wide to invite Luna to join her. Luna would of course, for that would have been the point. There, she would curl up against her sisters warmth as Celestia held her tight. Their conversation would start light, a great deal of nothing said until Luna was ready to broach the topic which had brought her. Sometimes, they wouldn’t even get that far, the physical reminder that, the rest of the world be damned, her sister still loved and cared for her would be enough. Then morning would come, perhaps they fell asleep, perhaps not, and they would see to their duties before enjoying a meal and finally parting company.

It would be… nice. It would feel good, and she would hold no regrets for the time spent. But when evening came, nothing would be resolved.

Sympathy was not what she needed now. No. She needed action, to do something more than wallow in her sister’s loving presence. If her subjects would not seek her help in their waking, she would seek to help them in their sleeping. Perhaps if she helped enough, they would begin to see me as more than just the other princess.

Outside Luna’s own door, Soft Whisper bid her a good evening and left for her office as the two guards took up their posts on either side.

Her suite was a luxurious thing, filled with divans, a massive bed, and a smattering of bookcases and other cluttered shelves. Carpets covered the floor and tapestries the walls. The ceiling was crafted of a glass enchanted to mimicked the night sky with thousands of moving diamonds that followed her more consistent constellations as they moved from season to season. Every ounce of wood was ebony and the cloth ranged in colors from dark blue to violet, with white and silver accents throughout. Sunlight never fell within the darkened walls, not because she didn’t enjoy it—she often spent hours on the balcony just bathing in her sister’s light—but simply because it would have ruined the esthetic.

There had been a time when she’d believed she loved her room in their old castle, of which it was an almost exact copy. Now, she was not so sure. It seemed more and more designed out of expectation rather than desire, not that she’d entertained any ponies beyond her sister and Twilight Sparkle on a single occasion since her return.

Shrugging off the melancholic thoughts as she had many times before, Luna lounged on her favored divan, closed her eyes, and took solace that there was at least one thing she could do that amounted to more than keeping her sister’s throne warm.

The dreamscape stretched out before her, an infinite black filled with uncountable stars twinkling in and out of existence as ponies fell in and out of dreams. Unlike the real nightscape, the stars of the dreamscape were never a simple white, but rather shifted through a kaleidoscope of colors dependent on the content and emotions of the dream.

She’d once thought to mimic the effect in her own night sky, to show her ponies the beauty of the world they created without realizing it. It turned out to be far more than she could manage. Just the blinking effect had nearly put her down after ten minutes, much less altering the colors.

While putting a name to those little spots of light was no mean feat, there were a number that stood out to her. Her saviors, the six mares from Ponyville, were always brighter than the rest. She’d not decided why this was, be it the potency of their destinies or the earnestness of their dreams. But then, she knew them little and had never had a reason to visit their dreams. Then there was sister. Her golden orb, larger than all the rest, hung in the same place as ever… despite direction having no real meaning in the realm. Luna had wondered about that in the past. The only answer she’d come to was that her own perspective placed it there, Celestia having always been her anchor, even in her darker days.

It came as some shock when she found herself drifting closer to her sister’s dream. She’d not visited her there since her return, uncertain if it would be appropriate. That, and she was more than a little worried she would find the old barrier still in place—the one devised as a bulwark against Nightmare Moon—and what that would mean. Better not to know.

She neared, and a small spark of joy filled her chest. It was not there. Nothing stood between her and Celestia’s dreams. Had she hooves, she’d have danced in place. Celestia trusted her, really, truly trusted her.

Long untended memories of more innocent times surfaced the closer she drew. Times when she would spy on her sister’s dreams, both in search of ways to prank her sister and to ensure there were no pranks waiting for her. It had taken Celestia years to figure out how she avoided so many well laid traps. Perhaps it was time to end the ceasefire.

Luna reached out and touched the golden star.

Celestia’s bedroom was spartan. The work desk to one side, the four post bed (large, yes, but not extravagant) on another, the bookshelves along the walls, and the cushions piled about the fireplace, all barely filled the space. Everything was rich by virtue of age and craftsponyship rather than the wealth of the materials used. The only ornamentation was to be found with the small gifts and trinkets collected over her long life; their value marked more in memories than wealth.

Celestia herself sat behind the desk, her eyes scanning over reports. Luna made to roll her eyes, leave it to her sister to dream of paperwork.

Trotting around the room, invisible and unnoticed, Luna admired the detail her sister had managed within her dream. Even skilled dreamers had difficulty reproducing the world as it was, even the book titles were legible. Luna’s circuit of the room produced nothing that she’d not seen before. Any nuggets of useful information were hidden where Celestia had yet to manifest them. Even a dedicated search of the furniture failed to turn up so much as a journal or box of interesting missives.

Uncountable minutes later—dreamtime being what it was—Luna was laid out across Celestia’s bed and growing bored of watching her sister sign one scroll after another. Well, perhaps her time wasn’t so horribly wasted, needling Celestia about her truly uninspired dreaming would provide some entertainment in the morning. Either way, Luna was done waiting for something to happen. She rose from the bed and bowed to her sister, silently thanking her for being such a dullard.

Just as she was opening the way out, the great doors swung open, crashing against the walls and shaking a number of books and trinkets off the shelves. Bold as brass, a pony strode into Celestia’s private quarters as though he owned the place.

Luna watched in shock, a smile forming on her lips, as the stallion marched toward a stunned Celestia. The pony was dream sprite, a simple manifestation of Celestia’s mind. As was the nature of dreams, sprites were unstable by default, their appearance always shifting at the whims of the dreamer’s mind. This one, however, was even more mercurial than most and a stark contrast to the solidity of the dream thus far.

At first an entirely nondescript guard, every step brought with it a change to his appearance. Starting as a white coated earth pony, his coat and mane grew progressively darker. His features and form changed as well, horn and wings fading in and out as his body and muzzle became more and more feminine. Halfway across the room, he was securely a she. The armour disappeared entirely and the horn and wings both stabilized.

Luna grinned devilishly at the image of Twilight Sparkle. This was too good to pass up, and Luna resettled to watch what drama might play out.

Context was provided by the lustful gleam in the young alicorn's eyes. There’d been no doubt in Luna’s mind that Twilight held a special place in her sister’s heart, but she’d always assumed it was as a daughter, not a potential lover. If she were harbouring romantic desires toward the young mare, well, Luna might have to do something about that.

Any plots or plans that started to form in Luna’s mind died. Five paces from Celestia’s desk, the dream sprite was no longer Twilight.

Luna nearly swallowed her tongue. A perfect mirror image of herself stood before Celestia, a hint of anger shrouding the lustful glint left over from its previous face.

Luna's face paled as the longing in her doppelganger's eyes failed to fade. Her insides twisted. No. No. Any moment now it would go away. Any moment now and she wouldn’t be watching this travesty. She wanted to run, to flee, but like seeing the tide roll back in portent of the coming tsunami, she could naught but watch.

A vicious grin formed on the false-Luna’s lips as she summoned a riding crop out of the air. Celestia stood, only to be struck across the muzzle.

Luna’s heart clenched as a wholly different terror took her. She wanted to scream, to shout that that was not her. That she would never strike her sister. How could Tia… She would never… Did Celestia... But she could do nothing. Fear and pain locked her in place, forcing her to watch what had to be her sister’s, and her own, worst nightmare.

Words passed between Celestia and the false-Luna, made incomprehensible to her by the dream save for the contriteness of Celestia’s tone and the annoyance of the false-Luna’s. A second swing struck the downtrodden Celestia’s other cheek. The false-Luna held out her left hoof and motioned to it with the crop. With head hung in shame, Celestia slumped behind the desk, crawling around it on her belly until she was laying prone before her tormenter.

The false-Luna’s smile came then, a cruel curl of her lips as Celestia’s own stretched out to touch the proffered hoof.

The unmistakable smell of lust reached Luna’s nose, a saccharine stench from which she recoiled even as it sparked a sympathetic warmth in her loins.

Celestia continued to pepper the false-Luna’s hoof with kisses and licks as though to clean it with her tongue. Luna’s eyes, however, were drawn to Celestia’s own hoof. She watched with horrified fascination as it disappeared under Celestia’s body. Luna’s horror only grew when Celestia’s tail flicked out of the way to reveal the missing hoof and display the sopping marehood it caressed.

The crop struck again, snapping Celestia’s head to the side. More words were spoken by the false-Luna, only the tint of passion soaked annoyance filtering to Luna's own ears. Celestia obeyed the command, slinking toward her bed. Her tail swished from side-to-side as she crawled, flashing her wet cunt and filling the room with her arousal.

Luna followed close behind the crawling mare, and, as Celestia lifted herself to the bed, gave a hard shove that sent her sprawling over the covers. Cooing, Luna nuzzled the emblazoned suns as though in apology for her misdeed. Light nips and kisses followed, each causing Celestia to twitch or hum in response.

So close, Luna was drowned in her sister’s scent. Her own arousal rose in response, offering its own unique tang that drove out the last dregs of restraint from her already drugged mind. Whispering that she was not to make a sound, Luna licked at her sister’s soaked inner thigh, tasting her juice for the first time. The sharp spice of it sent a shiver down Luna’s spine. She could hold back no more.

Luna clove her sister’s opening with her muzzle before drawing her tongue over the pink flesh. Celestia bit her lip, repressing the urge to moan.

It was futile. Luna desperately needed to hear her sister call out and continued to press into her folds until her will broke. The sound of Celestia’s moan was almost enough to send Luna galloping over the edge, and that would not do.

The crop followed swiftly, striking Celestia’s flank as punishment for her transgression. That only served to drive her deeper, and Celestia let another gasp of pleasure pass. Strike followed moan, followed strike, Luna’s muzzle driving toward the hard nub until her teeth raked across it.

Celestia quivered and screamed out her name as Luna nibbled.

When she could take no more, a violent spasm locked Celestia's white thighs tight around Luna’s head. Warm, sticky juices poured over Luna’s muzzle and into her waiting mouth.

Luna fell off the divan. Her heart raced in her chest as her hooves scraped at her muzzle and tongue, desperate to clean herself of the stain that existed only in her mind and her sister’s dream. Confusion, disgust, and fear swirled, a whirlpool of half-formed thoughts and emotions that slipped from her grasp even as they formed. Only the pulsing, moist heat between her hindlegs a constant rock upon which she could anchor. One which made her stomach heave even as she desperately clung to it.