Moon Childe

by Coyote de La Mancha

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Violence, Death, Alternate Universe, Princess Luna
Length: 2692

There are many worlds in which Princess Luna is a mother. But most rare of all are those worlds where she creates life, not from a pact or from lovemaking, but from her own living essence. This is one such world.

This story follows Cadence of the Crystal Empire, but it can also stand alone nicely.

There are many worlds in which Princess Luna is a mother.

In some, she gives birth out of love to the child of her body.

In others, she gains from a magical pact the child of her heart.

But in a few - a very, very few - she creates her child from her own essence, without any help at all.
In these worlds, Luna begets the child of her soul. This is one of those worlds.

He is a hunter of evil things.
He is the Childe of the Moon.

(Chronology Note: this tale takes place the night following Luna’s return from exile.
This timeline continues with Lessons for the Teacher.)

Part of the Sunset Rising continuity.

Published 2018-08-18 11:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2018-08-18 11:20:02 UTC

After So Long...

The sun had set. For the first time in a thousand years, Princess Luna had raised up the moon. Then, one by one, she had lovingly sung the stars into the sky. Now she reclined lazily on her old bed, letting the nostalgia wash over her even as she reviewed her first day of freedom.

It was not merely her confinement to the moon that had been broken, nor the chains of her hate. Another ancient convention had shattered, as well. For the first time since the fall of Discord, Luna had felt accepted by the other ponies. Oh, they were still distant, of course. She was a princess. Their word, not hers. Likely they would always keep a distance, despite her own desires.

But they had forgiven her. More than that, and had cheered for her return and her healing, and for her being reunited with her sister.

And most amazingly of all, they had been happy for her. For her. She smiled, despite her exhaustion. It had been a wonderful day, and a satisfying start to her first night home. Soon, she could begin again what she had missed for so long. Let Celestia rule the day, let her review taxes and statutes and all such nonsense (for all that Tia had threatened to share such misery with Luna, the dark sister suspected she was bluffing). It was the night, and all that came with it, that the Princess of the Moon had longed for.

Then, she frowned, another thought occurring to her as it had several times during the day. A thousand years. Equestria had gone for a thousand years without her aid. How many ponies had faltered when, had they understood their fears, they might have stood strong? How many spawn from the nameless darkness had fattened themselves in the night, without her to stand against them?

She smiled then. That, at least, I can guess. A thousand years is a long time, indeed. He would be fully grown by now, countless times over.

As if summoned by her thoughts, a darkness grew in her rooms. The tapers of the room muted from yellow to a deep blue as it swirled around her, warm, soothing, embracing.

She sat up immediately, grinning. “Jack!”

**Mother?**

She hopped off the bed. “Yes, dear one.”

**I missed you.**

“And I, you.” Still grinning, she dissolved into a dark mist, the two of them swirling together for a moment. Then, she returned to her solid form, her grin replaced by a look of concern.

“You seem angry,” she said.

**She sent you away.** The very room seemed to snarl with the sound of a raging fire. **How should I not be angry?**

“She had a duty.”

**She was your kin, as once she was mine. And still, she sent you away.**

“Was?”

**After you were cast out, I repudiated her.**

Luna’s eyes widened, aghast. “Jack!”

**I know, it is selfish. But... she hurt you.**

Her shoulders sagged. “Oh, child. Sweetheart, she had no choice.”

**She could have yielded.**

Luna cocked an eyebrow. “I hardly think that would have been a reasonable solution, son of my soul.”

More quietly, **I said it was selfish.**

“Yes,” she sighed. “Yes, you did. Oh, my poor, poor Jack. It was my own selfishness which brought this upon you, not hers. I told myself I was bringing eternal night for us both. But I was not thinking of you, not really. And I should have been. You above all. In my madness, I tried to hurt her. And in a way, I did. But I hurt you more than anyone.” She looked down. “And I am so sorry.”

**She sent you away.**

She sighed again. Well, little wonder where you got your stubbornness, she thought. But out loud, she said, “Yes, she did.” She looked up again. “But I’m back now. And we have forgiven each other, she and I. Will you not forgive her, as well?”

There was a long pause.

“Please?”

**I… I will try.**

“Thank you, dear heart.”

The tapers of the evening candles dimmed as the darkness radiated love at her.

“So. How have you been while I have been gone?”

**Alone, for the greater part. I am remembered. And it is good to be remembered. But few, indeed, have ever welcomed me.**

“I know, dear.”

**There have been some, now and then. But very few, very rare.** A pause, almost a sigh. Then, **I wish you could have met them.**

“So do I. But come,” she trotted towards the window, watching him over one shoulder with a warm smile. “You aren’t alone anymore, and neither am I. The pegasi have given us a clear and crisp night. Will you fly with me?” To Jack, flying also meant hunting. Another thing she had missed dearly. It had always been a joy to watch him hunt as a child. What must he be like now?

**I must speak with you first,** the darkness replied. **Things have changed.**

She frowned again, turning to face him fully. “How so?”

**Many prey have become more cunning while you have been gone. They choose their targets well. And they have learned, over the ages, to run in ways that are hard to follow. That I do not mind, it makes the chase more interesting. But in recent generations, some of them go to places I cannot even reach.**

Her frown deepened. “I don’t understand, how…” She shook her head. “Dear heart, forgive me, but would you take shape, please? I would like to see your face again.”

The darkness coalesced, the candles grew brighter again. The pony-sized creature before her was still mistlike, but feline in shape, its forked tail curling gracefully behind it. Only its head was perfectly distinct: round and grooved, flames licking from within through its eyes and mouth to illuminate its orange rind.

Its mouth did not move in time with its words, but simply smiled a smile of fangs and golden flame, its sourceless voice echoing gently against the chamber walls.

**My prey fear me. And they are wise to fear me.**

“They are, indeed.” Luna smiled with a mother’s pride as she reached out and stroked his pumpkin cheek. “Oh, my son, how you have grown.”

Jack moved forward, rubbing his side against hers, flames crackling as he purred.

**I missed you,** he said again.

She nuzzled him. “And I, you,” she replied.

A moment passed. Then, they parted again.

“But you mentioned the shadows had learned ways to evade you?” she asked.

**They have learned to move in dreams. I cannot follow there. And once there, they root themselves. And feed.**

Her tone became dangerous. “Oh, do they indeed,” she said. Her eyes flashed, and the corners of the room deepened into a darkness that was not Jack’s.

**Most of all, they feed upon the young, those who do not yet know themselves.** There was a pause, then, **Foals… Mother, foals are dying. They have been, for a long time now.**

The Princess of Night let out a long, dangerous breath. “I understand. Well, then.” She rose from her bed and went to the balcony. “It seems they have forgotten much in the aeon I have been gone. They should be reminded.”

**Yes.**

“Shall we fly then, my son? It is past time you learned how to walk in dreams. Would that I could have taught you before my exile.” She looked out into the nighttime sky. “And also, it is past time the terrors remembered why we are feared by such as they.”

Beside her, Jack’s tail lashed in anticipation. The nighttime wind carried his growl of hunger as tongues of flame blazed through his eyes and fanged mouth, illuminating the castle walls in hellish glare.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fudge, I’m sorry. I truly am. But in cases like this, there is little hope for recovery. Basically none.”

The mare gaped. “But… but it was just a flu!”

The couple stared at him, in anguish. Their eyes weren’t accusing him, not yet. But they would.

Doctor Stable sighed. “It was just the flu,” He explained. “Flu is accompanied with fever. Her fever apparently got too high. Now…” he gestured helplessly. “There has been enough damage that your filly probably isn’t waking up. I’m sorry.”

“No,” the mother wept. “No, you’re wrong!”

“I hope so,” the doctor nodded. “Because if I’m wrong, she’s going to be fine. Look, I love being wrong. I will dance a feathering jig if I’m wrong. But one of the great problems with the world is that ponies like me aren’t wrong often enough.”

“Well, Doctor,” the father glared, “This time you are wrong. Because our filly is going to get better. Because she’s strong enough to beat this!”

The only problem with that theory is you’re assuming that the world is a fair place. But out loud, Stable just said, “Good. You run with that. In the meantime, if she is going to recover, and I stress that the odds are next to zero, she’s going to need stimulation. Talk to her. Read to her. As often as possible. Just remember: odds. Next to zero. If she wakes up, you did everything right. If she doesn’t, you did nothing wrong.”

The mare stared at him, puzzled, trying to work her way through her grief. “Then why tell us this at all?”

The doctor shrugged. “I was never that great at math, but next to nothing is still higher than nothing, right? So, you do your thing.” He sighed and consulted his chart. “We’ve moved her to the children’s coma wing. If you’re ready, I’ll show you where she is.”

The stallion frowned. “Children’s coma wing?”

Another shrug, this one more helpless than the last. “This kind of damage isn’t as rare as any of us would like. Especially among foals who haven’t found their mark yet.”

They seethed in evil glee, tearing at the fabric of their host’s mind.

Within the darkness, she cowered. So many memories were gone, so many dreams. She was surrounded by monsters and their shrill laughter, laughing at her pain, feeding on her thoughts. She had no name. No past. No hope. She had only a vague understanding that this formless, lightless nightmare was wrong, and that she was helpless before it.

Eventually, they would tire of the game, and begin to feed in earnest.

Then, they stopped. All of them, facing a single direction, backing away. A deep azure glow gave them vague forms: long-fanged, dark-eyed, naked tails and vaporous fur.

It cannot be she… their silent voices whispered. Gone… Gone for ages and longer… It cannot be she… Silver Mistress… Dream Walker…

Princess Luna stood before the throng of terrors, her eyes narrow and hard.

“I see that you remember me. Not well, though. Else you would never dare gather in such numbers.”

Ssssss… Mercy… Mercy from the kind princess… Not our fault… Not our fault…

“No, I shall not strike you down,” She said. “Long have the dreamers of this world been neglected in their journeys.” She leaped up, settling down on a perch of darkness like a cobalt sphinx, high above them. “I have not the time to deal with such as you.”

Shadow eyes gleamed in the darkness of a wounded mind, filled with hope and greed. Merciful… merciful and wise… great art thou, oh Lady of the Moon…

“As you say,” she nodded. Then her smile became cruel as she added, “But perhaps you also recall my son.”

He appeared before them in a blaze of gold and orange light, the fires of his mind burning away the shadows that hid them. They hissed and cried, cowering and flinching away. Many ponies had borrowed his name over the centuries, and a few had even tried to steal his legacy. But there was only one such as he, and his prey remembered him well, indeed.

Black Jack. Jack of Shadows. Spring-heeled Jack.

His roar was the voice of a thousand autumn balefires as he leaped among them, and they shrieked in unholy fear. A few tried to fight. Most tried to flee. All of them, all of them, whispering the name by which he was most known, most hated by their kind and others like them.

Jack of the Lantern.

He drank in their fear, the terror felt by evil things. The horror of monsters, now suddenly become prey. It was sweet, a nectar he had been denied for far too long. For a moment, he savored it.

Then, the slaughter began.

Each time he caught one of the terrors, he tore it asunder as it squealed, devouring it, destroying it completely. Only one thing did he always spare: whatever lights they had stolen, now released from their entrails, he would bat away from the killing zone. The lights would arc suddenly from the impact, like balloons, then drift towards the foal who lay trapped in her own mind. Rejoining with her, making her whole again.

One of the terrors made it to the edge of the dream, trying desperately to pass through, only to find the way closed. With mounting dread, it slowly turned to face the Princess of Dream.

Luna glanced at the doomed terror below her, its bright eyes wide with fear. Then, smiling, she settled into a more comfortable position and looked out at the carnage below. “Remember, you have many such feasts ahead of you, dear heart,” she said. “I don’t think a little gluttony would be remiss.”

And the night terrors screamed…

“Mama, can I carve the pumpkin?”

Marshmallow Fudge blinked. “I imagine so. Why the interest? You never wanted to before.”

Her daughter shrugged. “I dunno. I just want to.”

She smiled. “Well, it is Nightmare Night. And I guess you’re old enough, if I help.”

“Yay!”

She watched her young filly dash into the kitchen, screech to a halt, then gallop back to the front room where the pumpkin was. Shaking her head with a smile, she made her way to the kitchen, and started picking out utensils. A few knives, and a spoon to scoop out the seeds.

“Cara? Make sure you don’t drop it.”

“Uh-huh!”

With some difficulty, Caramel Fudge managed to roll the huge gourd over to where the spread out newspapers were waiting. Most of the cooking was done for the festivities, so Marshmallow had spread them out in front of the ice box. Several of Caramel’s drawings hung there by magnets, along with a snapshot of a pony in a doctor’s coat, doing a clumsy dance. From what Marsh understood, he had sent out a lot of those photos in the span of just a few days. But that was months ago. Now, the children’s coma ward was empty. And you wouldn’t even know Cara had been sick.

Marshmallow grinned at her daughter as she dug in the spoon. “Okay, here we go.”

“Eeeewwwwwww…”

“Well, we need to get that out of the way, hon. Or we won’t have anyplace to put the candle.”

“Ooo! Yeah! Can we put in a big one, Mama?”

“Um, well, we don’t want to start a fire…”

“But my Jack-O-Lantern needs really big flames! Like, fwooosh!”

Her mother chuckled. “Uh, well, I don’t think we’re going to be fwoooshing any pumpkins this year, honey. But hey, what kind of face should he have?”

“Oh, a really scary one. With big fangs, and sharp eyes!”

“Wouldn’t that give you nightmares, though?”

“Nah.” The little filly hugged her knees, smiling. “I like it now.”

“Well, okay, if you’re sure…”

Far above, a shadow circled, unseen among the clouds and the starlight. Rare, indeed, was the house that would ever welcome him in. But just the same, it was good to be remembered.

Then Jack stepped back into dream, and returned to his hunt.

Author's Note

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The Sunset Rising continuity continues in Lessons for the Teacher.

A glimpse into Jack’s childhood can be found here.

And, of course, the seminal story that starts it all begins here.