One year ago today, Luna went insane and attempted to prevent the rising of the sun. I tried to talk to her. To reason with her. But she wouldn’t listen. I’m still not sure if it was her own grief at being ignored or some other force that took control of her. She refused to back down, eventually responding with violence. I was forced to use the Elements of Harmony to seal her in the moon. My only sister, gone, by my hoof. It felt like I was ripping out part of myself. It was the worst moment of my life.
And now I’m throwing a party to honor it.
What am I doing?
The edge of the stage is seven steps away. Seven more steps, and then I do the same thing I do every day, only now everyone’s praising me for it. Because of something vaguely related to it last year. It was same old, same old yesterday, and it’ll be same old, same old tomorrow. Why should today be any different?
I suppose it’s because I defeated a threat to Equestria. As if that was the only time I’d ever done so. Or Luna, for that matter. Equestria has been in danger plenty of times. I saved it some times, she saved it others. Mostly we saved it together. We were, always had been, a team. We completed each other.
But to hear them talk, it’s as if Luna never existed. Only Nightmare Moon.
Six steps.
“Nightmare Moon”. That may have been what she called herself, but she was still Luna. She fought the same way. She walked the same way. She talked the same way. It wouldn’t have been half as bad if that weren’t the case. If she hadn’t changed so little, I could’ve convinced myself that the Luna I knew was gone. That the pony I banished was nothing more than a shell of what Luna had once been. It would’ve still been terrible, but it would’ve been done.
But it was Luna, not some monster wearing her skin. It was my own sister I cast out of Equestria. I look up at the moon every night, I see her there, and loneliness gnaws at me all the more. If Luna were dead, I could mourn her. But she isn’t, and it’s my own fault she’s missing.
Five steps.
Immortality may have its perks, but it also has its drawbacks. I’ve lost count of all the friends I’ve made and lost. I can’t stay distant; I tried that, once, but no mare is an island, and I was drawn back in to the ebb and flow of life. It’s better to have friends and lose them than to never be friends with anyone, but it still hurts, no matter how many of them pass away.
Luna understood this. She and I understood each other far better than anyone else could have. In a life of shifting sands, of ponies rising and falling, we were the only solidarity the other had. Any mare or stallion I confided in would be gone in a century. Not Luna. She could give me counsel on matters that no one else could understand. Death was always a possibility for us, but at least it wouldn’t come through simple time.
This is worse.
Four steps.
I miss her. I should be used to it now, a year later, but I only miss her more. At first it was small, missing a few greetings here and there. But as I began to handle the moon as well as the sun, it steadily grew worse. I was out of my element. Nights became sloppy. The moon’s course was crooked. Stars didn’t twinkle as well. It wasn’t the increased workload; it was the simple lack of a guiding hoof to help me, someone who wasn’t afraid to laugh at my mistakes. If she’d just been able to say what I was doing wrong… I knew nights required work, but this went far beyond what I had thought.
But then, that’s what drove her mad, isn’t it? Feeling unappreciated. By at the citizenry, at least. Perhaps by me, as well. I don’t know. She didn’t say. That should’ve been a warning sign to me; her increased withdrawal in the months before that night. Her growing bitterness. Her silence. They say hindsight is 20/20, but it should’ve been obvious to me. I knew her. I’d known her for centuries. Why was this, of all things, what I missed?
Oh, Luna. Why could you be there for me, but I not be there for you? How could I not notice that?
Three steps.
The worst part about it was that she wasn’t unappreciated. Perhaps not as liked as she could be, but not discarded or forgotten. The day is assumed. The night is special. Ponies have always held a romantic view of the night. Starlit skies can be a powerful motif. A good party is one that lasts all night, not all day. Anyone can go cloudgazing. Stargazing takes work, but ponies do it anyway.
The day after I announced Luna’s banishment, among all the messages I received was a letter from a filly named Comet Tail. I don’t know if she was old enough to fully understand what was going on, but she got the gist of it. She begged, pleaded with me to not cancel the night because of what happened. She liked the stars, she said. She liked their colors. She liked their patterns. She liked the way they changed from season to season to season. No more nights would mean no more stars, and she didn’t want that. Luna had made the night, which meant Luna had made the stars, which meant Luna had been her favorite princess. It was sad that Luna had to go away, she said, but that didn’t mean the night also had to go away.
I responded personally, saying that nights wouldn’t be going away any time soon. When she wrote back, her gratitude was palpable.
Two steps.
I’m not sure how long the sentiment will last. Attempting to bring about eternal night will be all she’s known for, no matter what I say. Oh, they may say “Nightmare Moon” instead of “Princess Luna”, but the association will always be there. And as each generation passes and tells the story to the next, it will change more and more to the point of unrecognizability. The Luna I know will no longer exist except in my own head. The Luna they know will be something else entirely. Perhaps a horrific boogeymare who kills and eats ponies in their sleep. Perhaps a diabolical second-in-command, constantly scheming to take the throne from me. Perhaps nothing more than a ghost story told to naughty children.
I don’t know. And I don’t think I want to. It’d hurt too much.
One step.
And it’s all going to get worse from here, with this stupid celebration. I’ll be reminded each every year that it’s my fault she’s gone. The day will be further lifted up at the expense of the night. The line between my Luna and their Nightmare Moon will become more and more blurred. Over time, this will become nothing more than a charade, I can already tell. A moment when I stand by, smile, and suppress my tears.
What am I doing?
Zero steps. It’s time.
I take a deep breath, reach out with my magic, and grab the sun, the same as I do every day. With long, graceful flaps, I ascend, taking the sun with me, the same as I do every day. The rays of light come over the horizon, the same as they do every day.
Everypony cheers as if they’d never seen it before. I look down at them, forcing a convincing smile. I see them watching me, the awe and wonder in their eyes.
And in that moment, I understand. I’d always known, but I’d never truly understood.
I am not just a pony to them. For many of them, if not all, this is the closest they will ever come to me in their lives. I am something unattainable, something ethereal and unreal, something beyond everything they are or may hope to be. Far more than just their princess, I am a symbol to them. I am not merely Celestia; I am all of Equestria.
If I stop, if I break down and reveal the truth, Equestria stops. If I am hurt, Equestria is hurt. And if I’m happy, if I keep soldiering on, Equestria is happy. If I repel dire threats, Equestria repels dire threats. My sadness is the country’s sadness, and my pride is the country’s pride. To let my own feelings get in the way of this would let the entire country down.
This is not about me. This is about them.
So, what am I doing? I’m putting on a brave face for the populace. I’m pretending I don’t care that I miss her. I’m making a celebration out of my duty. I’m having a festival for the banishment of my only family. I’m twisting her memory into a mockery of itself simply because of one bad day. I’m doing it all so they can feel safe.
I’m sorry, Luna. I’m sorry about all this. Please, forgive me.
I’m doing this because it is necessary. And I hate every moment of it.
