Luna walks silently through the halls of the castle, her hooves connecting with every step she took. She could hear them, clattering repeatedly due to the echos of which they sound. She walks, her ears splayed back on her head.
She walks.
She walks some more.
Each step begins to carry each similar burden she bears:
Ponies don’t love me for who I am.
Ponies don’t love me for who I can be.
Ponies don’t love me as an *equal*.
Equality.
Luna stops, her eyes set forth on the white exit which stands before her, the night light seeping through the shades of which blocks her night’s wondrous glow. She stops and pulls the shades free, giving her Moons full view of that very section of the castle. She stares at her counterpart: a body who stands at a farther distance, peering down at her with the light it provides.
For Luna, she couldn’t believe it. Moons still loves her after all this time. She’s stuck in this rut, no pony but her to blame. She couldn’t give the Moons what it wanted: a night for all ponies to observe the ambiance of the one true body that dictates both lightness and darkness. The sun couldn’t do that.
Luna exits the hall, the clip-clopping of hooves on the smooth stone surface no longer echoing in her ears. Loneliness does not exist anymore in this area: for it is not part of her. She could sit and listen to the birds still chirp, for they are the nocturnal species that gives those who fear the night a fright…
Maybe those ponies hate them?
The thought of hate plagues her mind as she continues to stare at her Moons. If they hate birds that come out in the night, then do they hate her for doing the same?
After all, she is a big bird, but a pony with a long, dark horn.
Luna dismisses the possibility, for big birds only exist elsewhere. She knows of them, for she’s observed the dreams of the big birds. That is not a good place to be.
Yet, she feels upset that maybe…
...maybe it’s true.
That slim, extremely slim chance that the possibility that ponies hate her guts could exist in the world she resides in.
She sighs as a tear rolls down her cheek.
It’s possible.
It cannot be mistaken.
It cannot be forsaken.
It’s unforgettable.
She begins to whimper.
It’s true.
She walks forward.
I am hated.
She takes another step.
I wish I could take it back.
She takes another step, much larger than before.
I wish I could fix what I’ve done.
She looks at her Moons.
I wish I could call you mine…
She lets the floodgates flow.
I wish I could exist with you.
The tears mat her fur.
I wish I could’ve made you noticeable.
They slide down her cheeks.
But all those ponies see…
The tears suddenly stop.
...is the pony who did the deed.
Luna sighs as she takes to the skies, her eyes set forth to the path of which she knows.
Luna observes the towns ponies below, taking good care of complimenting each and every home, while all the rest of them sleep or read their tomes.
Luna notices no pony out.
They hate you.
Luna begins to tear up.
They hate.
She feels the moisture returning.
They.
She begins to lose sight of the truth, her vision blurring.
Th.
She begins to lose altitude.
T…
Her wings lock up.
…
Disconnect.
The loud pumps echo in her eardrums. She lies in a bed, noting that every wall in the room is not red. She thought she saw red, but nothing makes sense but the red she saw.
Some ponies say she went delirious, while others say she did not know of what she does, for she is an irresponsible sister who must be supervised for all her life.
The ones who said these claims dealt with punishment from her sister, who rose from her throne and struck them with the heat of her very stone.
“Ever say anything negative about my sister again, and you will reserve your spot in the cell of which you deserve.”
Luna wishes she was like this, but stronger, more able than her sister.
She desires this and more.
But she can’t for the ponies of Equestria hate her forevermore.
She heard them, laughing at her while Celestia stood there, crying as she tossed one after another into the various cells. The guards could not keep up as the crowd grew, not caring of the placement of which they drew. It wasn’t a place for them and their crew, for it was only a place for a specific residue.
For Luna it was her, her tears alone.
That had a place on that very pedestal.
For her Moons knew no more of her night.
Never again will she ever hear her, her Moons, her life.
No more time shall be spent blessing the stars.
No more time shall be spent giving color to them all.
No more time shall be spent spending time in others dreams.
No more time shall be spent giving them a visual treat.
For it was all left for the one in charge
Of the Moons of which did not belong to her
For it was never hers in the first place
Due to her age, her responsibility, her reputation;
Will she ever gain her Moons back?
…
No, she will never gain the power of the night.
The power of the night lies solely in the dirt.
The power of the night lies deep in the confines of the one who had harmony.
The power of the night lies only to the one who cared enough to not self-doubt.
The power of the night will lay silently as the wind passes over its precious being.
For it shall lay dead in the depths of the horn.
Forever and ever shall it stay in that very place.
Forever…
Disconnect.
