A silly comparison

by monokeras

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life
Length: 1362

Twilight tries to find out the truth about Nightmare Moon.

Luna transformed into Nightmare Moon because she grew fed up of ponies shunning her nights, didn’t she?

Well, that’s the official version. But as usual, it’s only part of the truth.

This started as a random fic’, but wound up as something slightly more serious.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-02-19 17:30:02 UTC

A silly comparison

“Why?” asked Twilight.

“You never content yourself with standard explanations, don’t you?” replied Luna, dodging somewhat the answer.

“Of course I don’t. Besides, this is stupid. Telling us Nightmare Moon was born because you resented ponies shunning the night is baloney. Every beginner in psychology will impugn that,” protested Twilight.

“How’s that?”

“Everypony knows you love the night. You love silence, contemplation and loneliness, you despise the bustle and the crowd. You bask in the dreams where you enjoy chasing monsters and nightmares. You relish watching the stars, the planets, and all the wonders of the nocturnal sky that the brightness of the Sun, its crude light, hides. You are moony, delicate, measured, almost demure. Your ego does not even suffer to be considered by some as a sidekick of your sister; on the contrary, you flourish in her shadow. How could you ever grow fed up of all those things you love so much, and envision to be Equestria’s sole ruler?”

Luna beamed. “Well, thank you so much Twilight for this dithyrambic portrayal,” she said. “And, you’re right. The official reason is not the whole story.”

“Then what is?” asked Twilight.

Luna stood up, and walked stately to Twilight. “Did you ever notice something about Nightmare Moon?” she asked.

“She was evil!”

“Well, of course,” said Luna. “But that’s not what I meant. I meant something more physical than psychological.”

“Errr… Well. She was… taller? Thinner maybe?”

“Do you imply I’m chubby?” grumbled Luna, with a sudden glower.

“No! No! No way!” back-pedalled Twilight with an embarrassed face.

“Mmmm…” Luna grunted sternly. Then she winked and smiled. “Try to remember harder,” she said.

Twilight frowned, in an obvious endeavour to recall precise details from her memory. After a few seconds, however, she shook her head in failure. “Beats me,” she admitted. “Her wings, maybe?”

“No, that’s not it,” replied Luna.

“I give up!” said Twilight. “Please explain…”

“Oh,” giggled Luna, “never is the weight of your past more evident than when it blinds you from obvious answers!”

“What is it about my past?” asked Twilight sheepishly.

“Well,” said Luna, “let’s say that during your youth you were a bit… errr… unconventional, maybe?”

“You mean, studious? Boring? Indrawn?”

“I mean all that, yes, and the fact you did not interact very much with the other pupils. So you weren’t really aware of all the silly games that were – and always are – played during recesses.”

“You’re right,” confessed Twilight. “I spent the recesses reading or solving problems in a corner of the quad while the other foals had fun together.”

“So, let me explain you some basic facts about fillies and colts. You know we like to compete with each other, finding amongst ourselves which one is the smartest, the strongest, the quickest. And in that behaviour we are often prodded by our parents that take a wicked pleasure to compare brothers and sisters of the same clutch.”

“Of course I know that!” said Twilight. “I clearly remember the races around the quad just before lunch.”

“Very good example,” nodded Luna. “And often, that sort of contest is organised within a definite tribe of ponies: the earth ponies race or fight or find who can heave the heaviest load, the pegasi fly, and the unicorns… well, it’s something else.”

“I can’t really remember unicorns engaging in competitions…” remarked Twilight.

“That’s because unicorns are far weaker than earth ponies when it comes to sport and, of course, they cannot fly. So they usually take part in a somewhat different challenge. Hadn’t you been so shy, you’d have known. But I’ll give you a clue: whatever the tribe, you’re not ignorant of the err… stupid comparisons that stallions, especially when they’re in their teens, make between themselves?”

“Uh?” wondered Twilight. “You mean… who has the lowest voice, once they have broken?”

Luna giggled. “Oh Twilight!” she managed to utter between two fits of laughter. “Sometimes I do wonder if you really are that callow or if you are simply pretending to be callow in order to stonewall what you consider embarrassing responses.”

Twilight shook her head. “I’m sorry your highness, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I won’t be blunt because I don’t want to shock your delicate ears. Stallions usually do compare the length of their… well… you see what I mean?” She pointed with a hoof under her rump.

Twilight flushed. “Oh… you mean… that?” she asked, squirming.

Luna sniggered. “Yes, I mean that, whatever that be, but I take for granted you understood. And, well, unicorn adapted that game to some other form of appendage…”

“What?” exclaimed Twilight, as realisation dawned on her. “You mean the size of the…” She touched her horn with one of her hooves.

“Correct!” confirmed Luna. “The size of the horn is supposed to indicate how potent your innate ability for magic is. The longer it is, the stronger you are or will become. And, amidst the young mares, a stallion with a long horn is often considered extremely sexy. You never wondered why Blueblood always attracts such a bevy of groupies around him? Naturally, and fortunately, when they grow up, mares turn to other criteria…”

“But that’s silly and obviously wrong. Magic stems from your force of mind, not from the size of an additional bone!”

“I know, but that’s a popular belief, and you know how deeply ingrained are such beliefs. Even my parents somehow caved in to it.”

“In what way?” asked Twilight.

Luna started to pace along the room. “Well, they took measures of the length of our horns regularly. And at each of my birthdays, they would compare with Celestia’s figures at the same age. And of course, I would lose, every time. I can still remember the concern I could read on the face of my mother when my father would announce the result. And they kept doing it, year after year, until the day I became old enough to rebel and send them packing.” She sighed. “I still remember, in my teens, pacing along a corridor of our parent’s castle, and inadvertently eavesdropping on a conversation behind a closed door: ‘What will she become?’ my mother was asking anxiously. ‘With her stunted horn, she will never look regal enough to reign as a peer of her sister.’ And my father: ‘I am stumped. Maybe she should undergo some surgery…’ I quit listening, galloped away and spent the rest of day sobbing in my room… I think it was the very first day I began to secretly hate my parents and my sister.

“Then I decided to disregard it, to simply brush it off, ignore the wound. Consciously, I mean. When somepony intimated about my horn, I just shrugged and displayed a superficial impassivity. My studies went well, maybe better than my parents ever hoped, and when they finally moved to some other universe and let us in charge of this one, I gladly accepted the supporting role. But you know the unconscious works: repressed frustrations, however consciously stifled, never die. On the contrary, they add up, build up silently, like vapour in a boiling cauldron; the pression increases, until it simply becomes impossible to contain it and it explodes. And that’s how Nightmare Moon was born, with a full grown horn.”

“I never would have thought that a petty thing like this could have such enormous consequences…” admitted Twilight, somewhat unsettled by Luna’s relation.

“I suppose my parents neither,” said Luna. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

“Well,” said Twilight thoughtfully, “thanks for that very intimate explanation. I appreciate the confidence you have in me.”

Luna winked. She looked at the clock. “Oops!” she exclaimed. “I have to preside the inauguration of the new Canterlot flight academy. I’m terribly late!” She hurried to her wardrobe and rummaged inside. “Hey! Look at what I found! A relic!”

She drew an elongated, streaked, pointed dark blue cone out, that she slipped over her horn, where it fitted perfectly. She then walked to the nearest mirror and preened herself.

“Don’t I look fabulous?” she asked, turning to Twilight with a glee.