The Lightning In Your Teeth

Chapters

Conscience Clear
The Dirt Is Temporary
In Pain Or Ecstacy
My Own Voice Cannot Save Me Now
Staring At The Sun

Conscience Clear

The sky hangs heavy in the air. Not a hint of blue can be seen through the red haze that seems to permeate everything, seeping into the dust-riddled clouds and tinting the world into a permanent sunset. It is almost as oppressive as the silence.

Where once this world would have teemed with life, now there is nothing. In place of green and noise and splendour, all that can be found, mile after mile, is dust, ash and heat. Everything is dead. The mountains are bare, rock cracking under the furnace of the ever-closer, burning sun, the seabeds dry and oceans gone. All save one.

In one last, forgotten corner of the world, there is a beach. Although it stretches from horizon to horizon, it is not large as coastlines go, nor is it particularly impressive—when all the world is dust and rock, sand ceases to be quite such a novelty. What makes this beach special is not the sand.

It is the ocean.

It can hardly be called as such anymore. Once, it had stood bestride half the world, sinking to depths no pony could ever hope to approach. Now it is a mere puddle when compared to its former glory. It would barely be a lake in the old world, but still, it is an ocean. The last ocean.

Its shore would have once drawn photographers from near and far—pristine, for miles on end. And yet, it has a blemish. For standing on the shore at the end of the world is a pony.

No other living thing exists on this world. There is no need for them. The alicorn—for that is what she is—simply stands on the shore, hooves inches from the cowed, shallow waters, and stares straight up into the sky, watching. The sun, hanging malevolently across half the sky in a muted crayonred, would have burned and blinded any other being long ago—but the alicorn already burns. Flames spring from her body, flowing from her tail and around the ornate crown that rests on her brow. Her eyes, as dark as the rolling clouds above, remain fixed on the glowing orb.

She is alone. Then, she opens her mouth.

“You can stop hiding.”

The pony did not appear. No, it would be more accurate to say that the world shifted. One moment, the burning alicorn stood alone, as she had always been—the next, two alicorns stood on the shore, and they always had.

The newcomer could not have differed more from her companion. Where the burning pony had a coat the bleached, dead white of bone, the other was a cool midnight blue, a bygone colour in this world of perpetualsun. Despite its inoffensiveness, it seems out of place. Her mane, although it flows much like her counterpart, is a wispy, starry field—a glimpse of the long forgotten night sky. She stands silently, gaze locked on the burning alicorn’s back.

If she notices, she gives no sign. Still facing the sea, she speaks again.

“Why have you come here?”, she asks. The words sit in the air, immovable and demanding as their creator.

“You know why I have come.”

The reply is little more than whisper. Anywhere else, the sound would not have carried—but in the dead silence of a dead world, the words drop like distant thunder.

“Oh?”

The larger pony finally moves, head turning to lock one baleful eye on the darker alicorn. She huffs softly, sending sparks scattering across the sand on the exhale. Then she turns fully, her impassive expression replaced by slow spreading, sly grin.

“Well then, Princess of the Moon. What say you now?”

“You are being ridiculous, Sister!”

Princess Luna, Diarch of the Night, fixed her sister with an unimpressed frown, exasperation written across her features. They were both standing in Celestia’s room, the evening sun streaming in through the open balcony doors and windows, bathing everything in the red-orange hues of the sunset. Celestia stood by her private desk—she had been finishing paperwork prior to her sister’s interruption, but her attention was now solely on Luna. Although a stranger might have only seen her typical composure, her seemingly relaxed posture was fraught with tension. Even Luna was almost fooled by her pleasantly neutral expression, but a closer look revealed a jaw clenched so tight, she was surprised she could not hear the sound of grinding teeth. Her frown deepened.

“And stop with the, the face. We talked about this ‘Tia, I’m not a damned diplomat,” she said, waving her hoof irritatedly at Celestia’s muzzle.

The mask of pleasantry instantly dropped, replaced by a displeased scowl. “Fine. But this conversation is over—I absolutely refuse to let you-”

“But why?” Luna interrupted. “You know that I can do this—or do you doubt me even now?”

Celestia sagged, scowl melting into a tired frown as she reached up to scrub at her face with a hoof. “You know that’s not true, Luna. I have definitely learned my lesson after my night in your shoes.”

“Then why will you not let me deal with this, sister?” Luna persisted, “We both know that my power is ideally suited to this task, and surely you do not want her rattling around in your head! So why won’t you let me help?”

As she said this, the smaller alicorn moved slowly towards her sister, jabbing her hoof at Celestia’s chest as the diarch of the day backed towards the bed, her voice steadily rising to a shout. Celestia’s frown grew more pronounced as her sister grew closer, until at last the tension snapped. In a rare loss of control, Celestia stamped a frustrated hoof down with a loud crack that cut her sister’s questioning off. Luna jumped, nickering slightly as she pulled back and lowered her hoof with wide eyes, staring at her sister in the sudden silence.

The white alicorn was breathing heavily, eyes closed and otherwise perfectly still, the only sign of her anger a spiderweb of fissures running out from beneath her right front hoof. Gradually her breathing slowed, and with a sigh, she opened her eyes to look wearily up at her sister.

“Because damn it all I’m scared, Luna,” she said softly, “Daybreaker scares me.”

“Sister, do you have a moment?” Luna poked her head around her sisters open door, peering into the room.

Princess Celestia sat at her desk, poring over the minutiae of court, but she quickly looked up at her sister’s voice.

“Of course Luna, what do you need?” she said with a gentle smile.

Luna stepped into the room hesitantly, her sister raising an eyebrow at the unusual trepidation.

“It’s about Daybreaker,” she said slowly, brow furrowed nervously.

Celestia’s smile vanished, her face locking into a neutrality born from centuries of politics, but Luna knew her sister better than that. Behind that impassive face, invisible to those that did not know her, Celestia’s eyes showed a deep inner turmoil, with a not insignificant dose of panic thrown in—something she had not seen in her sister since Tirek’s return.

The smile quickly returned however, if a little more plastic than before. That it had slipped at all, Luna knew, was testament to how shaken her sister was by the topic.

“Surely we’ve put that unpleasantness behind us? I know our communication was lacking, but we’ve been much better these last few months—and regardless, what does Starlight’s nightmare have to do with me?” she laughed lightly, but to Luna’s ears the sound was on a knife edge, trying desperately not to fall into oblivion. Her mouth tightened.

“But she wasn’t Starlight’s nightmare, Sister. Was she?”

There was a pause. Slowly, as if sudden movement might break the tension, Celestia set down her quill. She turned her gaze to the window, and the silence continued.

It was all the answer Luna needed.

“Why did you not tell me?” she whispered, the pain of old hurts colouring her voice.

Celestia’s mouth twisted, the ugly expression seeming out of place on her usually regal face. But she did not answer.

“Were you scared? That I might judge you? After my own mistakes?” Each question was a little louder, and the Princess of the Moon’s voice cracked at the last. Celestia closed her eyes.

“No,” she exhaled at last, “But Daybreaker has been my own burden to bear for a long, long time Luna. And you have had many burdens of your own.” She turned once more to face her sister, eyes glistening. “I simply wished to keep you from adding another, one that wasn’t yours to bear.”

Luna gritted her teeth, her own tears now threatening to spill, before shaking her head and taking a deep breath. When she looked at her sister again, it was with resolve.

“Well you are no longer alone, ‘Tia. Daybreaker is a part of you, and a part you must face, lest you repeat my mistakes. As you now know all too well, with my power I can help you confront her within your own mind, without risking unleashing her on the world. A quick, clean solution, and we can all move on,” she said with a decisive nod. It saddened her that Celestia felt she must keep this from her, but what was done was done, and now they could both do something to correct it.

It took her by surprise when Celestiastiffened, her eyes going cold and hard.

“Absolutely not.”

Luna gritted her teeth once more, now more out of desperation than anything else. “Which is exactly why you must face her ‘Tia!” she exclaimed, “I must confess I am at a complete loss as to your reasoning here! If you fear her then it is all the more imperative that you deal with her, and we can both move on with our lives!” Luna was nearly shouting as she finished, jabbing her hoof at her sister once more. “Just,” she implored, running the same hoof distractedly through her mane, “Explain to me why you can’t do this. Please. You have been evading the question since we started talking.”

Celestia sighed, sagging under the weight of her sisters gaze and words. “I have her under control,” she uttered weakly, flinching slightly at her sisters glare. With another sigh, she pulled herself upright and moved to sit back down at her desk, facing her sister. “Alright,” she said with a grim expression, “I suppose I owe you that much.” Taking a deep breath, she began.

“I locked Daybreaker deep in my mind centuries ago, because,” she emphasised, holding up a hoof to forstall Luna’s incoming retort, “I didn’t, and still don’t, know how to fight her.” Seeing Luna’s frown, she sighed again. “It’s not like I didn’t try, sister. But, well,” Celestia bit her lip, nervousness clear. Luna’s frown deepened into an outright scowl, and, with obvious reluctance, Celestia continued. “While I was never in any danger of being overpowered by her, I faced the same threat that you did.” Seeing her sisters confusion, she winced, closing her eyes, before plainly stating:

“She offered me something that I found I dearly wanted. Something I shouldn’t have wanted. And I was sorely, sorely tempted.” She cracked an eye open, a bitter half-smile curling at her lip as she saw Luna’s open-mouthed shock. “I must confess it terrifies me even now.”

Luna was staring at her sister, mind whirling. How? The very existence of Daybreaker proved that her sister had her own demons, but she had thought them self-inflicted, closer to her own Tantabus than a true Nightmare. How could her shining sister possibly have been come so close to the edge?

And, a darker part of her mind added, what could the older, better loved sister possibly want for?

She forced herself away from that line of thought. She knew all too well that it would only lead to bitter places. Mouth once more set in a thin line of resolve, Luna straightened and responded to her sister.

“Then I shall face the demon.”

It was not often that the ruler of Equestria was caught unawares, and in a less serious situation Luna might have even found her sister wide-eyed look of surprise amusing. She continued,

“As I said before, my powers are ideal for this. And there is no temptation it can offer me.” A nice, tidy solution. And yet, once more, she was wrong. In a moment that would not soon leave her mind, her sisters face flashed with what could only be described as deep, unbridled fear. It passed in an instant, Celestia quickly adopting a thoughtful look, but to see such raw terror on her sisters face shook Luna to the core.

“I really don’t think it’s necessary, Luna. But,” she smiled, though her eyes still danced with carefully hidden horror, “I will think on it. It’s been a long conversation, and a longer day—let’s talk about it in the morning, shall we?” So well crafted was her expression that even Luna might have been fooled—were it not for the fact that, though it was slight and subtle, she could see that her sister was shaking.

“I, yes, of course,” she stuttered, pasting a pleasant smile on her face. That Celestia seemed to buy it only further proved how shaken the day princess truly was. “I will leave you to sleep—I must attend to my own duties after all!”

Celestia laughed. “Don’t I know it! I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job as always Luna—certainly better than my poor efforts,” she joked, ushering Luna out the door. “Well then, goodnight!”

Luna was not sure how she got back to her room, or how long she spent standing there before a brave guard reminded her of the need to raise the moon. She did so distractedly, with none of her usual ceremony. Her mind was stilled fixed on the moment of terror that had flashed across Celestia’s face. What could have scared her sister so badly?

No. She knew the answer to that. The real question was far more worrying.

Why did her sister fear Daybreaker?

Luna chewed her lip. There was only one way to find out. Celestia would not be happy, but she need never know—and after all, was it not her duty to help all of Equestria face their demons?

The Dirt Is Temporary

It had taken some time to find Daybreaker’s prison.

Mind magic was a delicate and difficult art, made trickier the more complex the mind in question. And Princess Celestia of Equestria had a very complex mind. Even the most skilled (and amoral, for to invade somepony’s mind was not a thing done lightly) practitioners would have balked at the task. Celestia’s mind was a maze, as likely to trap any would be attackers as it was to simply repel them.

But Princess Luna wasn’t just talented at mind magic. She had invented most of it. Moreover, dreamwalking was a skill unique to her and her dominion over the night; one that allowed her free reign over the minds of all in Equestria, a weighty responsibility that was easily abused.

There was a reason that Nightmare Moon was remembered and feared, even after a thousand years.

Luna knew such dark thoughts would do her little good, but it was hard not to dwell on mistakes of the past when she might well be repeating them. She frowned, and shook her head. She was doing this for her sister, to prevent Celestia from repeating her own mistakes. It may have been a breach of trust for her to go into her sisters mind without her knowledge or permission, but it was a necessary evil, done with nothing but good intentions. And after careful navigation, Luna had found her prize. Rooted deep in the base of her sister’s mind, lay a heavily guarded, complex partition—built to keep something in. Celestia may not have her sisters skill with dreams, but she had clearly studied the more defensive aspects of mind magic in her long absence, Luna noted.

Thankfully, there was no need to break these defenses, and risk letting Daybreaker free. She could simply pass through them.

Channeling the magic of dreams, her magic, Princess Luna stepped through the wall in her sisters mind, and found herself in an endless desert.

It was difficult to tell if the desert was truly endless, as mental constructs sometimes were, or simply utterly vast. The dry cracked earth, as hard as stone under her dreamselfs hooves, stretched to every horizon. Above, a huge, red sun blotted out half the sky, hidden only by the thick, rust-coloured clouds that swirled slowly through the hot, heavy air. It was, truthfully, a little intimidating—she had not dealt with mindscapes outside of dreams in quite some time, and dreams were rarely this expansive. She frowned, then caught herself. She really needed to break that habit.

Gathering her wits, she reached out with her mind, probing the world for information. It was not a dream, and thus totally under her control, but the mindscape was a far more malleable thing than reality, far easier to read and manipulate. The similarities between her own power and the magic of the mind meant it had always come easily, and there was a certain crossover in techniques. Still, she was once more impressed with her sisters progress. The world was not infinite—rather it was a complete globe, in some ways more impressive. Celestia could barely create a mental shield before Luna fell.

Something was off, however. She created a mental projection of the complete mindscape, scaled down to the size of a watermelon, to hover in front of her, and inspected it.

“Come on, Luna,” she muttered, turning the globe with a gesture of her hoof, “You know there’s something here, you just have to find it.” Realising what she’d done, she grimaced. That was another habit she should probably break—it was harmless here in the dreamworld, but the moment she started talking to herself out there…

Well. Best not to dwell on it. She continued to look over the globe with a critical eye, trying to pinpoint what it was that her instincts were trying to tell her. Despite the fact that it was seemingly entirely a desert, there was something oddly familiar about this world—hell that mountain looked a lot like…

...the Canterhorn.

Her eyes widened. It seemed her sister had not simply conjured a world—she had copied their own, and this is what Daybreaker had done with it. She herself, if she was not mistaken, was standing in what had once been the Oatlantic Ocean. Unwittingly, she shivered slightly. She knew that her sisters power was more direct than her own, but to see the devastation it was capable of laid out before her was more than a little unsettling.

But she was here on a mission. Musings on her sister’s power could wait. Moreover, her target was close by—the meager remains of the ocean seemed to be last remaining body of water on the planet, and the only mental presence she could find was by its current shore, some 200 miles to the east. Normally, such a distance would take time even for an alicorn to cross—but in the mindscape, Luna simply took a step between, and she was there as if she had always been.

She was standing on what might charitably be called a beach, the pitiful remnants of the Oatlantic a few feet in front of her. Facing the sea, front hooves in the water with her back to Luna, stood Daybreaker.

She was, it had to be said, a magnificent sight. Nightmare Moon’s appearance had been a pathetically obvious mirror of her sister—black to her white, silver regalia to her gold. Equal, but opposite. Daybreaker, though, was her sister magnified. The regalia was almost the same as Celestia’s, but harsher: warrior’s armour instead of ceremonial splendour, and the spiked, helmed crown of a Queen instead of a Princess’ simple tiara. More impressively, while it was undoubtedly the same gold as Celestia’s raiment, the sheer heat the larger alicorn exuded appeared to be keeping the metal a molten, burning orange. Her burning mane and tail crackled in the quiet over the hum of the waves.

At her sudden appearance, her sister’s doppelganger turned. An arched, flaming eyebrow was all that betrayed her surprise—despite the obvious resemblance, Daybreaker’s catlike, red and yellow eyes held no trace of sister, no familiarity that she could read. No doubt, she thought bitterly, Celestia had thought the same when confronted with Nightmare Moon.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Although Luna kept her face impassive, it was a near thing. She had barely paid any attention to Daybreaker’s voice during Starlight’s nightmare, more concerned with the deadly lasers and the emotional conversation with her sister. Now she was, and what she heard threw her more than a little off guard. Nightmare Moon had sounded little like her—slightly embarrassingly, she was reasonably sure that her voice was the same one she had used to characterise villains, long ago when she had been but a filly playing with dolls. Daybreaker, on the other hand, sounded frighteningly like her sister—but her sister did not purr. Celestia’s voice was melodious, calm and controlled at almost all times. Daybreaker’s was molten, proud, and sensual. It was quite unnerving.

Unfortunately, Daybreaker seemed to notice her lapse, mouth snaking into a jeering grin.

“Have I left you speechless, little Luna? It must be so hard, to see the magnificence your sister could attain, to know that your own glory will always be lesser.”

She began to circle the smaller mare, who had dropped her poker face in favour of an outright scowl.

“If your glory is a dead world, I think I’ll pass,” she said shortly. “And it will take more than a few insults to bother me. This may be your world,” she continued, eyes narrowing, “but the mind is my domain, and you hold no power over me here.”

Daybreaker scoffed. “I’m not a fool, Princess,” she sneered, continuing to pace round the wary alicorn of the night, “and even if I were stupid enough to attack the Dreamwalker in her own realm,” she broke off, distancing herself a little to stand a few feet away from Luna, and frowned at her, “I have no quarrel with you.”

This brought the younger alicorn up short. “What?” she asked, baffled.

Daybreaker turned back toward the sea, side-eying her counterpart for a moment. Then, to Luna’s further surprise, the larger pony flopped down ungracefully on to her hindquarters, huffing a little. “I could ask you the same. I must admit, I’m surprised you haven’t attacked yet.”

Luna frowned. It really was a habit she needed to break, but she felt this was a rather frown-worthy situation.

“I distinctly remember you saying something along the lines of ‘I should have killed you when I had the chance’,” she deadpanned at the now considerably less intimidating alicorn.

“Destroyed, Luna, I said destroyed. And I didn’t say it to you.” Luna was grudgingly impressed at the sheer amount of scornful pity that Daybreaker managed to incorporate into such a short sentence—it was uncomfortably reminiscent of her days learning under Starswirl, whenever she missed something that ‘should have been obvious’. Damned old goat. Her eyes narrowed once more.

“Firstly, I hardly see how the wording makes any difference. And if you were not speaking to me, then to whom, exactly? Starlight? It was not exactly a crowded dream.” she said dryly. Luna was more than a little put-off by the direction this first conversation had taken, but she could not deny that she was curious as to what the demon meant. How could it not have quarrel with her? It would not hurt to silence the voice whispering at the back of her mind either, telling her that she was simply capable of more evil—that even at her lowest, Celestia would not stoop to attempted murder.

Daybreaker now looked positively annoyed, a fact that might have worried Luna more had she not developed an even greater resemblance to an exasperated Starswirl—instead, the similarity to her old teacher merely prickled her own annoyance further.

“The wording makes all the difference, Princess. And I was talking to that oaf, Nightmare Moon.” She sniffed. “Ridiculous creature. I have no need of some boring, over-emotional hack.”

For the second time in but a few minutes, the Princess of the Night found herself baffled by this demon’s strange thought process. She found she could do nothing but stare at her sister’s counterpart, struggling to organise her thoughts into coherent questions. Finally, she spoke, each word laid carefully down as she tried to navigate the mental minefield she had been thrown into.

“You claim yourself to be a better version of my sister, and yet you do not see me as the Nightmare? Your logic seems flawed.” As she spoke, she took a couple of cautious steps backward, ready for combat should it come. Perhaps, at last, the demon would fight her.

Instead, Daybreaker scoffed.

“Do I look like Celestia to you?” she scowled as Luna raised an eyebrow, “Don’t answer that,” she interjected irritably, “I am aware of the physical similarities. But I am who Celestia could be—I am not her.” With unsettling swiftness, she closed the gap between her and Luna, the younger alicorn tensing as Daybreaker’s muzzle moved in towards her own, the heat from her mane bathing her face in warmth. “Tell me—do I truly look like your sister to you?”

The other mare filled her vision, and Luna found herself at a loss for words. For, try as she might, she could see no sign of Celestia in those unnatural eyes.

“No.” she whispered, eyes still locked on Daybreaker’s burning gaze. It was not until the larger pony retreated, with that same unnatural swiftness, that the spell broke, and she felt herself start to breathe again.

What was that?

“If I am not Celestia, and she is not I, then it only stands to reason that you and Nightmare Moon are separate beings—and it is Nightmare Moon that I take issue with.”

Luna was still reeling slightly from the other pony’s sudden closeness, but made a valiant effort at regrouping her scattered thoughts as Daybreaker continued. Only now, she could not help but feel the burning alicorn looked strangely sheepish.

“However, I admit I may have been a little…” she paused, considering, “...overzealous, shall we say, in my approach.”

Luna was once more shocked into speechlessness. An apology—or what passed for one, at any rate? From a creature such as this? What is happening?

The larger pony, however, did not care to give Luna time to arrange her thoughts. Her burning gaze honed in on the moon princess once more. “Which is why, as I mentioned before, I am surprised at the lack of violence. I have given you no reason to believe I did not mean you harm—why then have I faced harsh words, and not spells? Once you appeared in my realm, I expected to be forced to defend myself, not to have a little 'chit-chat'.”

Luna barked a surprised laugh, then quickly shook her head, scolding herself for her lack of focus. She was no filly to be led around by this creature—she was the Princess of the Moon, Diarch of Equestria. She could investigate Daybreaker’s strange attitude, and her own response to it, later—she needed to regroup and think on what she had observed here.

Pulling herself together, she made ready to take her leave, but paused. Surely it would not hurt to answer the demon’s question first. It might even throw the corrupted alicorn off guard a little. She cocked her head at Daybreaker, a small smile playing at her lips.

“A ‘ridiculous creature’ she may have been, but Nightmare Moon did terrible things. I cannot say I approve of all this,” she waved vaguely at the desert world around them, “but I am certainly in no position to judge another’s murderous impulses.” She paused. “Particularly when they have not actually harmed anypony.”

Unlike mine went unsaid, but Daybreaker’s thoughtful expression made clear that she understood exactly what Luna was telling her.

“I shall take my leave for now; I have other duties to fulfill—but this conversation is not over, Daybreaker,” Luna stated evenly, before reaching into her powers once more, and vanishing from the desert world.

As she left her sisters mind and went about her nightly duties, Luna tried to focus on her current task; on protecting the dreams and minds of all of Equestria’s ponies. And yet as she flitted from dream to dream she could not help but think of a flaming mare on a silent shore, and the mystery she presented.

And all the while, deep in the recesses of Princess Celestia’s mind, a pale alicorn with a burning gaze hummed thoughtfully and turned her eyes back to the sun.

In Pain Or Ecstacy

As Luna stepped into Daybreaker’s world for the second time, she could not help but note once more what a striking figure she cut. The night princess had been able to pinpoint her entrance this time, appearing behind Daybreaker once more, rather than in the middle of the desert. The larger alicorn turned, a look of pleased surprise on her face.

“I did not expect you to actually return.”

Standing taller than any other pony, Celestia had always seemed intimidating at first glance, a fact she attempted to counter with the warm, almost motherly persona she had developed in public. Daybreaker, however, made no such pretense—rather, she seemed to revel in her stature, holding her body up with utterly regal poise and bearing. The spiked, molten armour, fierce red-gold eyes and constantly flaming hair only added to her intimidating aura.

“It seems we are both full of surprises, then.” Luna replied evenly. “I did not expect you to see the Nightmare in such dim light, and hold no grudge against myself.”

“Ah, I see,” the pale alicorn smirked, “come to ask more questions have you? You must be quite starved for company if you must come to me for conversation.”

Luna sneered. “Hardly!” she snapped, eyes narrowing at the burning mare, “You may have led me on with pretty lies when last we spoke, but I am no fool. You have no reason to tolerate me, save your own freedom. If you think that I might be tricked or manipulated into freeing you, you had best save your breath—waste it on this wasteland of your making!”

By the time Luna had finished talking, Daybreaker’s smile was gone. In its place was a face so utterly inscrutable that Luna could not help but feel the slightest bit uneasy. She was in no true danger, but her foe’s admittedly fearsome appearance, when combined with the fangs, came off as disturbingly predatory—for an instant she wondered is she had looked half so frightening, before the other mare spoke and her attention snapped back to her.

“Is that what you think? Hah. Still so foolish, little moon.”

Luna bristled, the old nickname feeling mocking in the mouth of her sister’s shadow—but the alicorn’s face was still deadly serious.

“Have you not wondered why your sister was so insistent that you not meet me?”

Luna froze.

The larger mare could not have asked a worse question. For while she had not expected to find out directly, or even tonight, that was exactly the mystery that plagued her still, and somehow Daybreaker knew.

For a while, there was no sound but the constant, dull roar of Daybreaker’s mane, and the swell of the ocean. Neither alicorn broke eye contact.

To Luna’s surprise, it was Daybreaker that broke first. With a sigh, the taller mare looked to the sky.

“I can empathise with Discord, a little.”

Luna frowned. As much of a bad habit as this was, it seemed that being thrown off by Daybreaker was becoming a worse one, and far more imperative to break.

“In Celestia’s memories,” she continued, ignoring the smaller mare, “he is a tyrant. The mad god. But you know, I get it.” She tilted her head slightly, gaze sliding down to Luna. “Why he made Equestria his playground. Why he toyed with your subjects’ lives.” She leaned down abruptly, looming over the Princess of the Moon, lips pulling back into a sharp-toothed, jagged grin, a mad light dancing in her eyes.

“Because it’s so damned fun.”

Eyes widening, Luna held her ground, but barely kept herself from taking a step back as the grinning mare advanced on her, sparks flying from her mane to land near Luna’s hooves.

“Watching all the stupid, mortal little ponies run around like ants, without half a brain between them, it gets so boring.” She stalked around the smaller alicorn, who turned with her, horn lit and wings ready to snap open at a moments notice. “So predictable. And sometimes, just sometimes, in those memories…”

She paused, left hoof held high, grin still unnaturally wide, caught in the burning glow of the eternal sun. Luna’s breathing paused with her.

Then the hoof came down, and Luna found her vision full of sparks and burning eyes once more.

“...it’s so damn tempting to just let them all burn.”

Snapping back to reality with a gasp, Luna cast herself backwards with a single, strong wingbeat, landing a few metres away from the larger pony, but Daybreaker did not follow. Her maddened grin had settled back into a self-satisfied smirk, and watched with amusement as Luna twitched, waiting for an attack that never came—before finally landing the crippling blow.

“Those are not my memories, little Luna. They are hers.”

For a moment, Luna seemed more statue than mare.

“You lie,” she croaked hoarsely, trembling with some emotion that she dared not name. Daybreaker grinned, fangs once more on full display.

“Do I?” she questioned mockingly, “Do I really?” She sat back on her haunches, as she had before, but there was nothing relaxed about the situation now—and for all that she seemed at ease, she looked like a coiled spring to the shaken Princess of the Night.

“Tell me Luna, why do you think dear old Celly didn’t want you to meet me? Hmm?” Cocking her head to the side, Daybreaker’s slowly spreading smile was snake-like.

“Maybe she didn’t trust you? Or perhaps she feared you would discover her own grudges against you?” Anywhere else, anypony else and Luna would have held her composure, but against this twisted mockery of her sister she could not help but flinch. Daybreaker laughed with delight.

“Ahah, so it’s that then?” she shook her head, saccharine, false pity dripping from her expression, “You poor, naive little mare. Do you truly think Celestia’s great demon is her hatred of you?” Daybreaker stood again, beginning to walk leisurely towards the shaking blue alicorn, “I’m afraid that’s your insecurity talking, my dear. No, Celestia doesn’t fear you.” She stopped, her muzzle again a hair's breadth away from Luna’s face. She could feel her breath, like desert wind against her face, almost scalding. Feel the ever-present sparks from her mane singe her own, wispy locks. And yet she could not move, rooted to the spot by her gaze.

“She fears herself.” Daybreaker’s lip curled derisively. “Isn’t that just pathetic?”

Somehow, she found the strength to respond. “That’s not true!” she choked out, gritting her teeth and fighting the urge to flee from the knowledge she had sought but desperately did not want. “My sister is not a being of self-loathing! I have learned not to listen to demons like you! I will not bend to your manipulations, and I will not judge my sister for your hatred!” She was snarling by the end of it, muzzle pressed against Daybreaker’s own. The heat was almost searing, but her own rage kept pushing her against the taller mare.

In contrast, Daybreaker’s crazed grin seemed to have grown wider than before, her delighted eyes fixed on Luna’s.

“Oh, sweetie.” she crooned, “You are just adorable.”

And she kissed her.

For a moment, Luna could not understand what had happened. All she knew was that her world was filled with an almost unbearable heat, dangerous and destructive, and yet full of raging, untamed life. Had she been feeling more poetic, she might have said that it felt like a planet forming.

And then the heat pulled away, and reality came crashing back in as she was left gasping for breath. She goggled in dazed, horrified disbelief at the other mare, who only grinned, licking a strand of stray saliva from her lips.

“I told you, dear Luna—I don’t hate you. Quite the opposite.”

“You, What—,” Luna sputtered, scrabbling desperately to find some mental equilibrium, “What did you just do? Why!?”

The pale alicorn chuckled, but otherwise ignored her.

“Your sister doesn't hate herself. Nor does she hate you. No, she fears me because I am who she could be if she just stopped being such a goody little four-shoes.” she sneered. The effect should have been ruined by the gleeful grin that still danced around her muzzle, but to Luna it only added to the uncanny horror of the situation. Daybreaker settled back once again, this time only inches from the disoriented, reeling princess.

“Shall I tell you, Princess, what finally broke the Day?”

A thousand years is a long time. A thousand years of ruling is longer. A ruler is not a real pony, you see—they cannot be. They must be aloof, above, constantly in control. And once you were gone, dear Luna—well, who else was there? It had to be her. Year after year, decade after decade, century after century. No end in sight. Even your promised return did not promise relief, no. Merely another heavy weight on the scale, her country against herself, and always, always having to pick her country.

Is it so strange that the pony your sister once was dreamed of something more? Of freedom? From a life of false smiles and paperwork. From the same day, repeated ad infinitum. From having to be the perfect, pretty, pony princess.

From herself.

From the iron chains of her conscience, the weight of her responsibility, and fragmented remains of her righteous heart that time just kept. Chipping. Away.

Living for herself, and nothing else. Nopony else.

That is what she should have done.

But Celestia is a damn coward.

“She has always been a coward, and she always will be.”

Nothing was stopping Luna from moving. From leaving.

And yet she sat. Transfixed.

“But I am not.”

She did not know how long Daybreaker had spoken for. It could not have been very long. But what she had said…

“And one day, I will win.”

What she had said had torn the blindfold from her eyes.

“Everything will burn, as it should have done so many years ago. And when I rise from the ashes of her kingdom of matchsticks, the cowardice will be gone.”

How could she ever have been so arrogant? To think her sister’s trials her own? To think that in one thousand years alone, Celestia had never come close to the edge?

“And I will be free.”

Tearing herself from her stupor at last, Princess Luna ripped herself from her sister’s world of ash, and fled.

My Own Voice Cannot Save Me Now

Luna was not sleeping well.

She was barely able to crawl through her duties as the keeper of the dream realm—and she suspected she had done a particularly poor job that night. And yet, after she finally dragged herself to bed, long after the sun had risen, her own treacherous mind had kept her awake.

Although breakfast had certainly not helped.

Luna sat at the long table, picking carelessly at her pancakes. She gazed at the strawberry smiley face with unseeing eyes, mind firmly rooted in the events of the night before. Despite her best efforts, she could not summon any enthusiasm for the meal—and her sister noticed.

“Is everything alright, Luna?” Celestia’s voice, full of warmth and concern, snapped Luna out of stupor immediately. It was all she could do not to flinch at it though. The memory of what that same voice had said only hours before…

She smiled weakly up at her sister. The guilt curled in the bottom of her stomach.

“Long night.”

With a groan, Luna threw the covers off, and rolled off the bed onto her hooves. Throwing her curtains open, she squinted at the light, before pushing her balcony doors open and stepping out onto the terrace.

It was a gloomy autumn morning. Celestia’s sun could barely be seen through the thick cloud layer, and the wind bit at her flesh through her coat, a shiver driving sleep even further from her mind. Unpleasant weather, but quite fitting. She snorted. Even in her head, she couldn’t quite evade her bitterness.

It was mostly self-directed. She had been cursing her own hubris since the moment she had recovered from her initial flight, waking gasping and shaking on the floor of her quarters. She had never once considered what her sisters burdens might do to her, only seeing a twisted mirror of her own demons—and it had almost cost her more than a heaping helping of guilt. Who could say what Daybreaker would have done had she stayed.

She shivered again, but not from the cold.

Daybreaker, she could admit in the privacy of her own mind, had been terrifying. She understood, now, why her sister could not face her—Daybreaker believed her own lies with a fanaticism that put the Nightmare’s natterings about ‘Eternal Night’ to shame. It had been almost enchanting to watch. The twisted alicorn had seemed to glow with an inner light that had nothing to do with the flames that enveloped her, and everything to do with her belief that every word she spoke was a deep-seated, immutable truth.

And if they were such a core part of her…

It had to be something that Celestia, deep down, was tempted by.

Or worse, maybe even believed.

She shook her head. No! She knew her sister better than that.

Surely she did.

And yet… Why had her sister looked at her with such fear? Why had she not wanted Luna to encounter her own personal nightmare? As much as she hated to admit it, Daybreaker’s explanation made sense. If Celestia truly feared the tyrant she could become that much, Luna had no doubt she would do anything to bury it. And while together, maybe, they might have been able to face Daybreaker, how could she go to her sister now?

How could she tell her of her betrayal, of her abusing of her sister’s trust, and then expect them to work as one against the demons of Celestia’s own mind?

She gritted her teeth, and went indoors. The guilt pooled at the bottom of her stomach.

It had been almost a week.

Almost a week since she had had a conversation with her sister longer than a few sentences. Almost a week since she had started carrying this sinking sense of guilt with her everywhere. Almost a week since she had slept more than a few hours.

Almost a week since she had last seen Daybreaker.

The anger at herself, and the guilt that came with it, remained. But underneath was a new anger.

An anger at her sister.

Her sister, who could not, would not ask for help. Her sister, who could never just talk to her. Her sister, Celestia, who had to be perfect in every way.

Celestia, who could not trust her.

She knew it was unfair. Celestia had ruled alone for a millenia, and learning to let someone else share the load had clearly been a harder task than even Luna had suspected. But she couldn’t help but feel that if her sister had just let her in, this might have been solved years ago. Daybreaker might have been solved years ago.

Daybreaker.

That had been the hardest knot to unravel. That kiss…

To be violated like that by a creature wearing the face, the voice of her sister, it gnawed at her. Even now, the moment would still flash periodically through her mind, sucking away what joy she still found in her nights. She hated it. She hated her.

She hated that a small part of her had liked it.

She frowned, bad habits be damned. That was a not a path she wanted to go down. But time enough had passed—it was time to confront this. Not her sister, no—the anger and guilt still burned there—but Daybreaker. The part of her sister, she noted with grim humour, she could attack guilt-free.

The moment she stepped into the mindscape, she knew something had changed.

Where once the sky had been a dusty, barren red, now it was almost black. The wind howled past her ears, desolate and impotent, and only through thin gaps in the cloud could she still see the looming shape of the red sun. And it was cloud, she realised. The air was oppressive, heavy—a sizzling tension hanging in every particle.

A storm was gathering. And her own storm was waiting.

Daybreaker stood on the shore, but she was not facing the sea. The corrupted alicorn was looking right at her, her eyes glowing like sickly beacons in the half-light, her mane and tail lonely torches in the vast, empty sky. Thunder rolled, far out to sea.

Then, she smiled. Not a mad grin, or a cruel smirk—a simple, pleased smile.

It shook Luna far more than anything else the mare could have done.

“Well you certainly took your time, my dear,” she purred happily, “I was getting a little lonely without you.”

Luna snarled wordlessly, the sound carrying despite the howling winds.

“How dare you!”

The older mare blinked, her face a perfect picture of shocked regret—or it would have been if not for her eerily glowing eyes, glinting with malevolent humour. “Oh! Have a upset you, little moon? Whatever is the matter?”

“You speak to me as if we are friends? When you would burn the world down on a whim?!”

Daybreaker raised an eyebrow, then shrugged with deliberate carelessness.

“You never seemed to care much before,” she said slyly, mouth twitching into a teasing grin.

With a howl of rage, Luna threw herself at the other alicorn.

Had she cared to look, she might have seen Daybreaker truly caught by surprise for the first time. Unable to react in time, Luna’s blast of pure, instinctual power flung her out into the sea, the shockwave scattering sand and spray into a billowing cloud, that slowly settled back into the ocean. In the real world, Luna would not have matched her foe for pure power, but here, she could attack with her true strength, mental magic manifested.

Slowly, Daybreaker rose from the waves. The water was shallow, even tens of metres out, barely reaching the taller alicorn’s knees. Steam billowed out from under her, the sea water hissing and boiling around her hooves. Her smile was gone, and the predatory look that had caused Luna such trepidation before was nothing on the aura of pure menace that now surrounded her. For a moment, Luna paused, a trickle of fear spilling down her spine.

Then the kiss flashed through her memory, and her anger redoubled. With another wordless snarl of rage, she sent a second blast of pure force careening across the waves.

This time, however, Daybreaker was ready. Her horn glowed with a sickly, red light, and a shimmering shield deflected Luna’s attack, sending it screaming upwards, the sheer power of the blast creating a high-pitched kind of whine that only ended as it detonated against the thick bank of storm clouds, scattering some to the winds. A slight narrowing of her eyes was the only warning Luna had, before a whirling burst of flame shot towards her. Luna didn’t even bother to dodge—she simply phased out of existence as the flames hit the shore line, re-appearing on the now glass-coated, cooling beach without even a scratch.

“You are not,” her opponent noted coolly, “angry about this world.”

Luna’s only response was to hurl another screaming, concussive blast at the still steaming alicorn. This time, Daybreaker redirected it as a small cliff, fifty meters down the beach. The stone overhang exploded in a rather impressive shower of splinters.

“Nor,” she continued, “are you angry about my plans for your sister.”

She began to move closer, face still set in a cold mask. Luna threw blast after blast, but though her aim was true it was fueled by rage, and she continued to throw the same snarls of calcified will despite her opponent’s now almost casual deflections. It was not long before Daybreaker stared down impassively at the panting, snarling Princess of the Night from less than hoofs-length away.

“You’re not even angry about the kiss,” she said, softly, almost wonderingly. Then her mouth split into the same delighted smile she had worn when Luna had arrived.

“You’re angry that you liked it.”

Luna let loose another howl of rage, the shadows all around rushing towards her glowing horn, only to be cut off as Daybreaker smashed her front hoof into her right cheek. Stumbling, she fell to the ground, shaking at the exertion and emotions running through her.

“Had you utilised even a few of your subtler spells, the fight would have been over in seconds,” Daybreaker continued, voice still soft, “You know as well as I do that I cannot truly match you here.” She stared down at the shaking, raging princess with something approaching surprise. Tentatively, still almost marvelling, she said the truth they had both known since the start.

“You didn’t want to win.”

Below her, Luna stopped shaking, her head bowed, face unseen. Then she surged upwards, and punched Daybreaker squarely in the jaw.

The taller alicorn took a few staggering steps back, splashing into the water, but did not fall. She rubbed a hoof at her mouth, wiping away blood.

“I probably deserved that,” she admitted ruefully.

“Why?”

The question wasn’t shouted. Even if she had wanted to, Luna’s voice was hoarse from screaming. But the raw emotion in her voice brought her companion up short.

Luna had finally raised her head, and was staring at Daybreaker with unvarnished desperation, tears of rage and frustration streaming down her face.

“Why do I want you?”

Daybreaker stared at her for a long, pregnant moment. Around them, the wind continued to howl. Thunder rolled. Tenderly, she reached up her hoof to caress the darker mare’s swelling cheek, brushing her tears.

“Your sin is envy Luna,” she whispered, “The Nightmare embodied that. Envy for your sister, envy for your subjects, envy for the day itself, for how brightly they all shined…”

Luna could not tell if the expression on the burning mare’s face was one of tender sadness, or utter madness. She was not really sure she could tell the difference anymore.

“Celestia could never understand—how could she? She only saw the glare of the spotlight, how it isolated and burned. She could never see the shadow she cast.

“But I?”

Luna was not entirely sure what was happening to her anymore. Her world had narrowed to the mare in front of her, the smokey scent of her mane, the rush of curling fire and murmur of her voice.

“I am Pride.”

And as she said this, her lips pulled Luna in, and the younger mare’s world burned once again.

“I am everything you have ever envied, everything you once wanted to possess—and to be.”

She was whispering into her ear now, sweet nothings that meant so, so much more.

“I do not covet what others have, no—I have everything that I need, for I am perfect. And how could you, my little sister, be anything but perfect too?

Luna’s world was spinning. This was all just, too much. Everything was too much.

“Because that is what you are Luna. Perfect. And mine.”

With a gasp, Luna woke up.

The brewing storm had finally begun. Daybreaker stood in the sea, rain hissing as it met her unnaturally warm body, eyes watching the skies. Waiting. She blinked, and her harsh features softened almost imperceptibly. She tilted her head back a little—an acknowledgement.

“You are not my sister.”

Luna’s voice was still hoarse, and emotion still rumbled underneath it, but it was better cloaked now, and she sounded spent. As if in their fight she had worn down all her resistance at once.

Daybreaker exhaled.

“No. I am not your sister. And you are not mine.”

She turned at last to face the princess, a strangely self-deprecating smile on her face.

“And yet…”

Luna laughed, weary and resigned.

“And yet,” she agreed.

The two stood silently for a while, watching the storm.

“I will never leave you.” Daybreaker spoke up at last. Luna turned her head towards her slightly, raising an eyebrow. The reversal in roles was not lost on either of them.

“I will not grow old. Your sister cannot kill me. The only thing that could possibly end me is you. I will live as long as you wish me too—I will never leave you.”

By the time she had finished her plea, Daybreaker was staring fiercely at her lover—for that was what she was, Luna understood now—eyes blazing with the same mad light that had scared Luna so much before. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

“No,” she murmured, stepping forward into the water, “You won’t.”

She felt the lightning hum in her teeth as she leaned forward to kiss the mare that was not her sister.

It tasted like a dying star.

Staring At The Sun

Her life felt quite surreal, these days.

In the mornings, she ate with her sister and conversed with her about the various topics of the day, enjoying the rare time spent with family. She rested for most of the day, gathering her strength for the coming night, and woke in the early evening, to prepare the castle and take up her sister's mantle. As Equestria fell asleep, she would walk the dream world, helping her citizens rest easy.

And finally, when her duties were done, she would dive to the depths of her sister’s mind, and kiss the mare that was not her sister on the shores of a dying ocean.

She knew it was wrong. She was not sure she knew why anymore—had long stopped asking those questions—but she was not foolish enough to think it was right. But she was tired and lonely, and if she found solace in strange places, then who was the world to judge?

And, well. While Celestia played the part of the demure, blushing Princess well, her counterpart clearly had no problems flaunting her body. And what a body it wa—

“Ah, Luna! Just in time for breakfast.”

The Diarch of the Night blushed slightly as her sister, whose body she had in some way just been thinking about, held out a plate of pear pancakes to her with a radiant smile.

Nope! Different pony, different pony, different pony…

She repeated her mantra silently in her head as she accepted the plate, returning her sisters grin.

“Thank you, ‘Tia.”

Celestia rolled her eyes at the familiar nickname.

“Sure thing, ‘Lulu’,” she replied sticking out her tongue.

Luna scowled back playfully, swiping at her sister half-heartedly with a hoof, missing completely. The two siblings quickly settled into a companionable silence as they ate, simply enjoying the other's company. Eventually, however, Luna yawned and stood up.

“The meal was delicious, Sister, but I fear I must take my leave of you now. My mattress calls me,” she said with a tired grin, before she began to leave.

“Ah, Luna, wait just a second?”

Luna blinked. Celestia sounded almost hesitant, a rare thing for her sister indeed. She sat back down, frowning (Damn it all!) slightly, before she schooled her face into a more neutral expression.

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh no, no! Nothing has happened,” Celestia waved a hoof, chuckling a little nervously, but began chewing on her lip slightly, “Well, nothing new.”

Definitely not normal. Much to her annoyance, Luna began to frown again. “What is it, ‘Tia?”

Celestia stopped fidgeting, and with a sigh looked down at her now empty plate.

“It’s about Daybreaker.”

Luna could have sworn that for a brief moment, the blood in her veins turned to solid ice. Her sister had obviously misinterpreted her wide-eyed look, chuckling awkwardly once more and glancing to the side. She held up a hoof to forestall a question that, unbeknownst to her, the panicking Luna would never have asked.

“I know, I know—my response the last time we talked was more than a little stubborn. But you were right,” Celestia said, her face turning serious, “I have been too obstinate by half. I should have trusted your judgement from the start, but as I said,” she grimaced, “Daybreaker scares me.”

She turned slightly, looking Luna straight in the eyes.

“I am giving you permission, Luna, to deal with her as you see fit. I am still not sure I can face her, but if you tell me that that is what I should do after meeting her yourself, then I shall. All I ask,” she stated, still staring at her with utmost seriousness, “is that you be careful. Daybreaker is not a foe you can underestimate. Do you understand?”

Luna stared at her sister, trying desperately to ignore the swirling feeling in her gut that threatened to send her breakfast right back up again. “I understand,” she said hoarsely.

Celestia sagged, a great weight falling from her shoulders as she sighed with relief. “Thank you, Luna,” she whispered, and with a grateful smile at her sister, left to begin her day.

It was a long time before Luna could move from her seat.

The skies were clear today, no storm in sight, and yet Luna could feel the tension in the air once more. Or perhaps that was just her nerves.

Daybreaker smiled at her entrance, but it fell slightly when she saw the look on the smaller mare’s face.

“What has happened.”

Luna explained, spilling her wretched feelings into the heavy air as Daybreaker listened silently. By the time she had finished, she was weeping, and her voice was scratchy and raw. The taller mare remained silent.

Luna bit her lip, then took a deep breath, and pulled herself up.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The words sounded strangely small on this vast empty world, but there was a finality to them that seemed to linger. Daybreaker did not so much as blink. Eventually, after a long pause, she opened her mouth.

“I see,” was the only response given. The wind whistled quietly, the flames murmured gently, the sea swelled on to the shore, and Luna waited desperately for something, anything more.

Eventually, it came.

“One day,” Daybreaker began, seemingly unconcerned at the loss of her lover, “you will slip. Or Celestia will. And when that happens, you will find your way to me.”

She smiled.

“You will be back, someday.” Her smile widened. “I’m patient. I can wait.”

Luna stared. And then, with a muffled sob, she was gone.

Daybreaker sighed, and shifted her body towards the ocean, head craned up to gaze at the sun.

Her mane swirled and crackled.

The wind howled.

The sea swelled.

Time passed. How much time, she did not know. She did not particularly care. She was, after all, very patient.

There was a shift.

Ever so slightly, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards in a smile.

She opened her mouth.

“You can stop hiding.”

fin

Author's Note

I hope you enjoyed.

If you want a glimpse at the major inspiration for this story, click here, or listen below. The story wouldn't exist without the song.

For a look at the process behind writing this, and the reasoning for how I wrote Daybreaker and Luna, check out my blog post, and this other later blog post.