Have you ever seen a feather star in flight through the water? Considering the medium I’m delivering this story through, I encourage you to look it up. It is an oscillating mass of feather-like limbs in every direction from the center, each fin pushing down on water with a neighbor to each side rising up to replace it. When the fin reaches the crescent of its movement, its folds and zips up to do it all over again, creating an illusion to the outside viewer that it was absorbed, rather, and spat back out the top.

Imagining this bizarrely beautiful creature in movement is a good start to where I’m about to begin. This place is not real in the sense that it is a place of light or space or matter. It is a place of thoughts and feelings and dreams. There are many universes that have something akin to this and they go by many names. The mindscape, the shared unconscious, the aether, the spirit world, the realm of souls. In one benighted galaxy, where the sanity of that entire dimension has been blasted to oblivion, it is called the warp.

Here, in this time and place I choose to focus on, a creature flies through this psycho planar ocean. She is not a native to this place, but she moves as someone who has become intimately familiar with its terrain. In a form she has donned or manifested in for this place, she resembles in part a feather star, a mass of midnight blue wings, her every oscillation shedding glimmering stardust. Her core is a darkness, so vast and deep as to emanate the horror of the unknown like a light. And, my god, it’s full of stars, deathless hopes and dreams like defiant candles in that endless night.

She follows a rapid river of anger in the ocean. In one direction, it feeds into a festering swamp of hate before sinking into the dark depths of suffering, but she seeks the river’s source. She seeks a place that shares a border of anxiety with despair, caution with desire and is cut off from joy by a mountain range of relieved laughter. With greed and ambition, the word “AUDIT” is spelled in a wide billboard letters and near the realm of pride black colored envelopes float incriminatingly in the ether.

These other places have masters, awakened genius loci, the concentrated manifestations of their domain. But this place, where night terrors lurk, still slumbers. It is uncontested, unguarded, untapped. It is waiting for its master to claim it, she decides, had decided a while ago. Who better, who is more deserving, than she who battles the very thing this realm reflects every night?

Every night, she strides through their anxieties and trepidations, councils them towards relief, and whom is it that they praise? The glorious morning star, the most blessed of heaven, the Light and Fire and Sun. All while she, she who should be an equal, given equal praise, love and respect, is cast away like one of her night terrors. But soon that will all change when she has enough power.

Being theoretical equals is not enough, not when one of them has such an unfair advantage as to share the waking world with their subjects, share all the desirable parts with them. She needs to be the greater, to be and prove herself the better. With that power, once she has one-upped her one and only peer, then she will have all the respect she deserves, then she will have all the love she has desired.

The rippling, corruscating mass stops over a large dark plane, murky shapes rising out as solidified shadows like overhanging trees, unplumbed caves and open closets. It’s features remind her a great deal of her core, with deep shadows that hint tantalizingly at the horrors that might lurk within. The difference was that her own darkness needed to be contemplated and gave equal parts of existential dread. This was just there to unnerve.

It only made sense. This was the basest form of Fear, in its mindless, sleeping state. It was just the creeping terror of the unknown. Hidden inside were all the things sapient minds of this world had ever conjured to frighten themselves and, buried even deeper, the truly horrific memories that could not be contained by any one world. And she, she would be its master. Only she, an alicorn, could pull this off with power of all three tribes. Even the three brothers, for all their power, were severely limited by their tribe.

She landed upon the proverbial ocean bed of this cerebral sea, many legs sprouting from her underside like a scuttling bug. They stamp and paw at the black dirt, groping and feeling for something. Her array of wings all stand at attention like ears, listening for something. A head emerged from the top, her brow and skull circled by a crown of horns. She seeks nothing from here, for all that she needs is within.

Even here, in this unreal place, there was something like land and earth. Only the arion, the earth pony, could feel the magic that ebbed and flowed beneath her hooves, finds the very epicenter and attune themselves to that untapped demesne. Here there were also winds and sky. Only the pegasus, the sky pony, could hear the sleeping intellectus that permeated the very atmosphere of this place and holds it attention by force of her personality. And, always, there was herself. Only the unicorn, the spell pony, could reach into her spirit, her core, and inject her will into this world around her.

This working, this sanctum invocation, had taken years to set-up. She had to find places in the material world that aspected with Fear and rebuild them into proper manses, just to anchor this place enough. Then she had learn the lay of the land, properly map the ley lines and study its unreal geology. She had to seek out the tempests, zephyrs and wisps that descended from Fear and emerged into reality to learn the gale of their language. Only then could she learn the patterns to the whirlwind politics that took place betweens Fear’s component selves even in its slumbering state. She had to postulate, calculate and recalculate the equations and vectors that would apply to the strands of thaums and beads of motes she would weave into a spell at the apex of the working. Only now would she be able to put all of that theory into practice.

All this was only possible by one such as she, she thought. With it, she would merge herself, her power, with that of this benighted place and thing. She would subsume the fetich spirit of this nascent spirit-plane, coalescing it into one spot like the core of a manse and with herself acting as the hearthstone. She would be the focus, the terminus, of this plane’s power, the avatar of Fear. It was less than ideal, Fear, but this was the only plane she could find not yet awakened. It seemed immoral, not to mention troublesome, to attempt to devour an already thinking, sapient being. Fear, up until now, was merely a force and place. Besides, it was fitting, considering her duties. She would show herself to be a merciful master of terror, respected as the one who subdued such a terrible thing and truly beloved as one who held the darkness at bay. There nothing that could go wrong with her plan.

She began.

Things went wrong with her plan.

Her eyes snapped open and she was afraid. Here, at the apex of the spell, when her mind was completely bent to the task, when her wings and spirit were wide open and her hooves and body were firmly planted in place. Here, at her most vulnerable, something grabbed her, stabbed her with its claws, impaled her with hooks and smashed her hard from below. She screamed and wailed and struggled to no avail, and it was drawing her in. Her last vision as she was buried was of eyes and teeth.

The screams of two beings overlapped with one another and began to synchronize in a perverse form of harmony. As the two voices became one, their wailing had subsided into weeping. When the two voices disappeared completely, and just one remained, the sobbing began to sound like laughter.

Luna looked down into the crib and a gurgling life looked back at her. This creature smiled at her, seemed so happy to see her.

“Do you remember?” She dipped her head inside and brushed her muzzle through black fur. “Do you remember what we did?” Tiny hooves batted at the stars in her mane as strands and constellations floated around the small body. “Do you remember what I did?” She closed her eyes, just listening to the heat and listening to the little one’s breath. “Do you remember what I made you do?”

“Luna.”

Luna raised her head but didn’t turn then, her eyes still fixated on the life. That one seemed no more aware of the inner turmoil in her than anything else that was happening or had happened outside this nursery.

“Do you think she remembers? Maybe not on the surface, but somewhere in the back? Not now but later?” Luna turned her head towards the doorway where Celestia stood, showing her biting lips and narrowing eyelids. “Do you think she’ll hate me?”

Celestia stepped forward, crossing the threshold between them. With a glance back, the guard nodded and shut the door. “Luna, I have no idea of what the future will bring.” She leaned in and pressed her nose against the bottom of Luna’s throat. “What I do know is you, however. You will love her and cherish her.” Celestia broke the contact and peered over the edge of the crib, Luna following along. “She will see you for the pony you really are, that you are now, far above the pony you were a thousand years ago and completely different from that amalgamate you both were a part of.”

She still wasn’t sure. “Will that be enough?”

“It will have to be. If there’s any justice in this world, it will be.”

A knock on the door and both of them turned. A lunar guard stuck his face in. “Your highnesses.” With a scowl of disapproval, baring his fangs, he went on, “It’s Prince Blueblood. He’s asking to see you. Wait, no, scratch that, he’s demanding it. What should I tell him?”

Both sisters gave barely a glance to each other before moving into fairly placid action. Luna horn took a light glow and Celestia gave a small nod. “Let him in.” The guard nodded and opened the door. The sisters braced themselves.

“Aunty! Granny!”

He moved as if a foal that just learned to walk and decided to skip on ahead to advanced running lessons. His legs almost appeared to be noodles and his hooves did strange dances as incomprehensible as an electron’s position and velocity. He didn’t seem to so much as stay upright as trip and fall in every direction simultaneously, if a little more so forward.

Celestia inclined her head a smidgen towards him. “Hello, Blueblood.” It almost didn’t come out as a sigh.

“Aunty, it’s awful! They say they’re all these horrible foreigners coming into the castle!” His entire statement was delivered masterfully, his entire body wriggling all about like an elegant tantrum. He couldn’t keep up the dance forever and came to a stop. “Now, I don’t want to call them sub-equine degenerates. I am, of course, above such things but-”

There was a harumph from the door as the guard finally closed the door. Blueblood gave it just a glance before he continued on. “Granny! Talks some sense into aunty, she can’t let these-”

Princess Luna’s horn stopped glowing and she finally looked his way. “Cease your prattling, Duke Blueblood. The only one’s who can hear you now are in this room.”

Blueblood frowned, glancing dubiously around. “Are you sure?”

Luna’s eyes narrowed. “Absolutely.”

Blueblood entire body shifted. He stood up straighter, he smiled, smirked rather, tilting his head and his eyebrows both. “Why, thank you then, grandmama.” He actually seemed to brighten then. “Speaking of those in this room, how is the baby?”

Celestia shifted as well, relaxing some. “Quite excellent, Blueblood. Would you like to see her?”

“Absolutely!” He marched right up to the crib, climbing his head over the side and looking down. The creature inside laughed at the sight of him and he coo’d. “Ooo, who’s a little snot goblin? You are, you abomination of magic, you are! Yes, you are!”

Luna frowned, tilting her head to the side and whispering. “Even after you told me the truth of his position, sister, I have to ask, how much of his prattling and posturing is really an act?”

Celestia’s eyes became half lidded and the sigh was more complete before she answered. “More than you seem to think, less than I would really like.” The sigh carried on in her head, memory lightly passing over the events that led to Prince Blueblood and the predecessors to this farce starting this whole act in the first place.

Let the courts of kings in other nations have their jesters, given leave to say what no other would dare to when the king needs to hear it. The diarchy of Equestria let their subjects speak freely in front of them. When the court begins to think in a way the sisters rather they didn’t, they have an entirely different kind of fool repeat those thoughts aloud for all who need to hear it.

Let those other courts have their jesters, Equestria had Prince Blueblood.

“Anyway.” Blueblood turned around, stepping down from the crib and turning to face the princesses. He bent one front leg, the other sweeping in front of him and he managed to keep his balance through the bow. “Granny, aunty, your doting descendant offers his services to you once more.”

“Duke Blueblood.” Luna emphasized the title. “Why are you called ‘Prince’? It’s entirely inappropriate.”

“It’s all part of the image, grandmama.” He gave her a patronizing smile and Luna only wished to pluck his mouth off his face and dump it in the trash. “Everyone knows princes are spoiled brats.”

“Really? Back in my time, they were dashing colts, often warriors, heroes at least, or the reward of virtuous, heroic mares to have a noble stallion vie for their attention.”

Blueblood sighed, almost with patience. “Times have changed, granny."

“If you truly were a prince, I would think that you were responsible for that change.”

Blueblood preened, tossing his head back. “Ah, if only I were that good!”

Luna rolled her eyes. “Ugh.”

Celestia looked between the two of them, frowning, and rested her focus on Blueblood. “Blueblood, how may we help you?”

Blueblood lifted up his foot to observe it for a moment. “Do you think ‘sub-equine’ was too much, aunty?”

Celestia tilted her head. “It was a little much.”

“Maybe.” He hummed thoughtfully and put his hoof down. “I was considering in adding a shot at granny’s thestrals too. Then your guards could maybe bond with them over how much they hate me.”

Luna blew a raspberry past her lips. “When did my bloodline come to this? Deceitful tricksters playing at being an arrogant spoiled fool. Underneath that is only slightly less arrogant, slightly less spoiled and slightly less of a fool. And then, underneath that, is the gnawing, sneaking suspicion that it is I who is being played for the fool.”

Blueblood responded with a smirk that played at being enigmatic but Luna personally thought just made him look like more of a prat.

Then again, maybe that’s the point. She darkly thought.

Luna glanced sideways to her other half. “Tia, this is all your fault. This whole setup has your hoof prints all over it. I don’t care how many times you tell me ‘it was all their idea’. If Blueblood’s predecessors came up with it on their own, they learned it by watching you.”

“Blueblood.” Celestia repeated firmly, after so gently stamping her hoof. Luna looked to her and reflected that at this point she very well could have imagined herself yelling and cracking the floor with her hooves. And she still wouldn’t have garnered as much authority as Celestia did with those very actions done ever so softly.

Then again, maybe that’s the point. She thought ironically.

“You came here for a reason,” Celestia reminded him. “Please, get to the point.”

“Right you are, aunty.” He nodded in deference to them both. “Granny. It actually does have to do with the summit and my so-called opinions thereof. What would you like me to do? Will the dignitaries be meeting Duke Blueblood, noble scion of the Night Court-” Luna snorted. “-Prince Blueblood, royal embarrassment or shall they not be seeing me at all?”

“Mm, yes. The situation will already be delicate enough without you trying egg someone into declaring war if they don’t get to smack you around some.” Celestia raised a pensive hoof and shook her head. “No, Blueblood, you will stay even further away from them than what I have you stay from the ambassadors. These are not my subjects, who send me their sympathies as I must wearily pardon you again.”

“And if you are forced to interact with them, act the part of the noble scion,” Luna chimed in. “If you absolutely must preserve your non-dignity, tell anypony who asks that we put the fear of the throne into you.”

Blueblood bowed again, a hoof to his chest. He spoke with a great deal more solemnity in his tone. “Understood, your majesties.” He raised his head and looked back towards the crib. “One more question.”

Luna arched a brow. “Yes?”

Blueblood waved a hoof back and stared between the princesses. “Have you named the baby yet?”

This time, the princesses looked between each other with looks of actual surprise between them. Then, something sort of like contrite shame.

Blueblood furrowed his brow. “Have you? Considering the subject of this summit, it might be important.”

Celestia was the first to turn to Blueblood. “We haven’t come to a decision yet, but it’s been discussed.”

“I would say it’s been close to argued, really,” Luna said airly. “It is clear that the child has a theme, presence and destiny connected to the nighttime. After all, you could make a clear argument that she is my daughter. Tangentially, speaking.”

Celestia nodded. “And considering her origins, I thought a nice name like Night Dreams or Dreamy Nights might endear her to the populace at large and give her something positive to follow in life.”

“And I think she needs a name befitting her status as our peer, a name in Ancient. I have pushed for Nyx and I still think that the ‘my daughter’ argument is a pretty good one for giving me final say.”

Celestia nudged her with her wings. “Tangentially.”

“I’ll tangent you, Tia,” Luna growled.

Blueblood looked between the two of them. “Well, I certainly hope you’re able to come to a decision, your majesties. The summit is due to begin shortly, after all, and I don’t think it’d be right to introduce the baby as ‘and then there’s this thing’.”

Luna sneered. “I don’t know, I bet Tia would get a lark out of that.”

Celestia frowned at her before her feature softened thoughtfully. Then she nodded, acquiescing the point.

Blueblood put on his characteristic smirk. “Now, speaking of arguments and the summit and, yes, the preservation of my non-dignity, I was hoping we could begin working on this ‘put the fear of the throne in me’ bit.”

Luna tilted her head. “You mean right now?”

“I think I’ve given as good a setup as any.”

Luna turned head towards Celestia. “Shall I?”

“I think you’d be a better choice than I.”

Luna grinned then, a wide grin with a glint of malice and mischief behind her eyes. It was that kind of look she slowly leveled at Blueblood.

Celestia turned towards the crib. “I’ll put a sound dampener around Nyx.”

As the confident smirk disappeared from Blueblood’s face, Luna failed to pick up on that little admission. She didn’t know if his sudden show of fear was all part of his act, but she was going to enjoy it nonetheless.

“What do you think Miss Rarity will do if she ever finds out his treatment of her was all part of ‘the plan’?”

“Oh, he had a better reason that just pretending to be a ponce, Luna. But I think you know exactly what she’d do to him.”

“Oh, I know. It’s just, given what I know of him, I wouldn’t help her, but I wouldn’t exactly stop her either.”

Author's Note

Nyx is a character and concept first conceived by Pen Stroke in Past Sins and has been reused here with permission. I felt inspired to do my own take on what Nyx was given the metaphysics of my own fanverse and my own take on her fate given my other interpretations.

The concept of Blueblood’s persona being one-part an act as part of some social shell-game is lifted from The Best Of All Possible Worlds by McPoodle. I’d say I’m doing it a little different, except I don’t see how.