The room was dark, heavy blackout curtains preventing even the barest shred of moonlight from piercing into the room and disturbing the inhabitants. Dark mahogany furniture dotted the room, a desk here, a dresser there, a bed in the center, etc. The walls were a calming dark blue, silver inlays near the roof and floor providing a small break in the otherwise self-same color. The roof itself was a masterful piece of magical engineering, stars and galaxies flickering across the tiled ceiling, each second showing a trillion years of development and destruction. One moment, a star was born in an empty corner of the cosmos; the next, a quasar erupted from the ravenous black hole the star had fallen into.

Other than the roof, the bed itself was the most notable feature of the room. It was massive, easily three meters across and entirely round, perfect for a young adult dragon to curl up on. The bed receded into the ground some hoof or two to form a bowl, one which was layered in pillows filled with the finest feathers and blankets of the softest silk. Eight elegant pillars rose from the edge of the circle to form a roof to the bed where a layer of shimmering cloth drifted down, further dampening sound and sight of the rest of the room, allowing the occupants a moment of absolute privacy, a time and place where the rest of the world simply did not exist.

“Sister, do you believe that Nightmare Moon was born of my jealousy and anger?” Luna asked quietly, disturbing the silence. On top of the pillows of feathers yet beneath the blankets of silk, two Alicorns- sisters- rested beside each other as they enjoyed each other’s mere presence, a commodity and luxury that had been absent for precisely a millennium.

The white Alicorn, Celestia was her name, remained in silence for a moment, thinking over her answer so as to avoid upsetting the young sister she loved so before she answered in a voice as equally quiet. “Yes, Luna, I believe that emotions can take a physical form.”

“So, in a way, I am Nightmare Moon?” Luna asked again, a curious yet unnameable tone to her voice.

Celestia’s brow furrowed. “In a very vague, comparing-apples-to-gods way, yes, I suppose you could say that. The Nightmare is more of another state of being rather than you yourself, Luna. Or at least, that’s what I believe.”

With Celestia’s final amendment, the pair fell silent again. The elder desired to question the younger as to what had brought up the question only to wait, knowing the Night Maiden would volunteer more information in due time.

Then she struck that thought with all the mental force she could muster, disciplining the black sheep like a greedy dragon would their generous daughter. That line of thinking had led to Luna being banished in the first place; nothing good would come of just waiting. However, before she could open her muzzle to speak to her godly sibling, her melancholy voice rang out in the darkness of the room. “The Imperials don’t think so.”

“What do you mean, Luna?” Celestia asked, not quite sure the point Luna was trying to make- if she even was trying to make a point.

“The Imperials believe that Nightmare Moon is literally another being. I’m the Spirit of Dusk and she’s the Spirit of Darkness.” Luna answered.

“I had heard tell that… I didn’t believe they really thought so differently. Aren’t they aware that your emotions turned you into her?” Celestia asked slowly, trailing off at the beginning.

“I asked.” Luna said softly. “Do you know what Dragon told me?”

“What?”

“‘Nightmare Moon would have killed me, and you won’t- can’t. Do you think that such a drastic change in personality, in conscience, in personality, belief, and soul, is not enough to constitute a change in being? You are so drastically different from who she is that you simply can’t be the same being. Perhaps you have the same past as her, but not the same future, the same personality, the same beliefs, you don’t even have the same body as her. You aren’t her.’” Luna quoted perfectly, her divine memory a boon as much a curse.”

The pair fell silent again, the soft sound of rustling blankets and steady breathing being the only sound in the room their powerful hearing could pick up. In the darkness and the silence, neither could see or hear the other. Luna could not see the pained, guilty expression that stained Celestia’s muzzle, nor could Celestia hear the gentle drips of Luna’s tears as they plopped onto the bed and soaked into the pillow beneath her.

“A whole nation who don’t see me as a murdering monster.” Luna breathed out, her voice perfectly steady. “Thousands of ponies who haven’t been raised to fear a pony they know nothing about.”

“And one such pony is your friend.” Celestia gently reminded.

“Yes…” Luna said, sounding as if deep in thought. “A friend.”

A white wing moved and settled over a dark blue back. The younger sister leaned over, falling into the warm, loving embrance of the elder, conveying a simple message that held so much importance. No matter what the world thought of Luna, her sister was there for her. Always.

Celestia’s lips pressed firmly together, a thin line on her muzzle above which two magenta orbs burned with intensity. She would never abandon her sister again. Never.

***

Crack!

“Oooh,” Dragon said with a shudder of delight. “That felt amazing.”

Twisting his neck the other way, he gave it a sudden jerk with his hooves- being careful not to jerk too hard- and felt his neck crack again, forcing him to shudder again. “Spirits, that’s amazing…”

Crouching down at a specific angle he had learned over the years, he heard and felt his fetlocks, all four, crack in unison. Leaning forward, he felt his knees crack particularly loudly, the sudden depressurization of his bones making him let out a low groan.

“That’s unexpected.” He heard a familiar lilting voice call out from behind him, the soft tone full of amusement. Dragon glanced over his shoulder to see Princess Celestia, clad in full regalia that sparkled in the sunlight, standing near the river and smiling at him.

“Cracking my bones is one of my only guilty pleasures.” Dragon replied, leaning backward and feeling his hocks crack loudly, a small grin surfacing when he saw Celestia flinch.

“You don’t look very guilty.” Celestia commented, seeing the smile and satisfied expression on his muzzle.

“Excuse me- cracking my bones is my most-indulged pleasure.” Dragon corrected. “To what do I owe this visit?”

Celestia walked forward and sat down next to the smoldering fire pit, the flames having long since burned themselves out overnight. All that remained of the previous warmth was a gentle trail of smoke in the air and a faint scent of oak and ash. “You said some very powerful words to Luna last night.”

“Words that convey the beliefs of an entire nation.” Dragon replied as he sat down a meter or so in front of Celestia. “I spoke no errant lie nor partial truth.”

“I didn’t accuse you of lying. Why does your culture believe that Nightmare Moon is a separate entity?” Celestia asked curiously.

“Luna and Nightmare Moon are nothing alike; that we knew from the beginning. Now that I’ve met Luna personally, I can attest that she is nothing like the old tales say Nightmare was. Simple anger and jealousy can not explain such a vast change in personality. If you come to desire something, do you decide to put the entire world at risk to get it?” Dragon asked, ending in a rhetorical question.

“No. Generally speaking, I go buy it.” Celestia replied, the barest hint of a smirk on her muzzle.

“Precisely. Even insanity can not truly result in such a change. The Elders of the Empire are experienced in dealing with insanity- all of its forms. Truthfully, the Court Elders are even well versed in treating it, ensuring that our emperors do not go mad while still on the throne. Throughout history, even Elder has agreed that the change from Luna to Nightmare Moon was too drastic to be anything less than outside influence. In a thousand years of history, there is no a single recorded instance of an Elder disagreeing.”

“Recorded.” Celestia pointed out. “Perhaps those who disagreed were omitted?”

Dragon barked out a laugh. “Highly unlikely, Celestia. Our history is full of traitors, wars, and tyrants just as much as it is of nature, honesty, and tradition. Imperials have no habit of leaving out details. When our Empire began to first keep official records, a three century effort was made to collect all existing information. We had an idea of what our land was like up to around three thousand years before the formation of the Forsaken Kingdoms, the countries that were eventually united into the Rhetoram Empire.”

“Seven thousand years…” Celestia muttered, surprised. “In any case, you don’t seem to have much proof of Nightmare being separate.”

“You sound as if you seek to convince me that Nightmare and Luna are the same.” Dragon said slowly, a questioning tone beginning to develop.

“On the contrary, I seek for you to convince me that they aren’t the same.” Celestia explained simply. “Proof? Evidence?”

The Hunter sighed, shrugging lightly. “Unless Nightmare Moon should return- pray to the Spirits she does not- and gain hold of Luna again, we have no way of discovering the truth. Nightmare never visited the Empire so we have no first-hoof recordings of her, unfortunately.”

Celestia sighed in turn as she stood. “As I feared.”

“Leaving so soon?” Dragon asked, mildly surprised.

The Solar Alicorn nodded. “I have duties to attend to- mostly Court- that I cut into to make this trip. I’m glad I did so, though. I’ve learned more now than I’ve ever learned before. I suppose it’s because I’m an Honored now, isn’t it?”

Dragon nodded. “If you weren’t, I would not have told you most of this. You would only have a vague idea of why we believe what we do. Have a good day, Celestia.”

“And you as well, Dragon. Thank you for entertaining this old mare and answering my questions.” She replied with a warm smile.

“If you’re what they call old, then I wouldn’t mind seeming more old mares.” Dragon replied in kind, making Celestia chuckle. Her horn was soon encased in a golden aura which flared, forcing the Hunter to blink quickly. When his eyes opened again, the Princess was gone and all traces of the magical light faded.

Dragon Arrow stood and yawned once more, his jaw cracking as teeth flashed in the light of the rising dawn. It was looking like it would be a long day. Dragon needed to hunt down a Manticore so he could get started on a more permanent home for him. By the end of it, he would need a dozen or so for all the bones he needed.

The Hunter grunted. He needed some more paint. And more shatter rock. If he wanted to fuse the bones together to form viable supports for his home, he needed a Bone and Weld rune. He didn’t have Unicorn magic and none of the Unicorns of Equestria would know the spell necessary, and likely didn’t have the stomachs to fuse bones together. In any case, the blank runestone was easy; he had six spares that were currently unpainted. The paints would be easy, too, for all he needed was white and very dark grey. He couldn’t make the particular paints recommended for rune painting, but bonedust and charcoal would work in a pinch.

“Looks like today will be more of a preparation day then a hunting day.” He mused to himself before gathering his bow, arrows, and wingblades. Equipping his preferred weapons, he quickly set off across the river, toward a small rocky hill he could see in the relatively near distance.

***

Four hours, by the sun’s positioning. It took Dragon four hours to reach a tall cliff that had looked a mere half hour away. The Everfree was strange; far more so than he ever expected. Time seemed to be distorted, or at least distance was. In any case, he had made it. The cliff was tall, easily thirty stories of sheer rock. Jagged crevices and gaping holes dotted the face sporadically, evidence that even time could quell the unnatural beast that was Everfree terrain. Around him, the Forest had halted for only about three meters before the cliff, where the dirt turned to rock and neither tree nor bush could take root into the ground.

Dark green eyes roving across the cliff face, his sight eventually settled on a dark grey seem of mineral in the side of the cliff. No way I’m that lucky.

His gaze followed the seem, locking onto a chunk of the rock that seemed to have been shattered by something hitting it with force. Dropping his gaze to the ground, he walked underneath the hole in the rock and looked down at his hooves, seeing several large chunks of dark grey rock surrounded by countless light grey ones. Lifting one chunk up with his wing, he quickly swiped it across the face of the cliff, smiling it satisfaction as it left an ash grey streak on the rock. Looking back, he took sight of the small bone barely sticking out of his pack before placing the chunk of coal into the back as well. Seems I am that lucky.

Bone and coal. The absolute basic, most primitive way of making white and black pigments that could ever exist. All he had to do will be fashioning a rod out of the coal and he would have a stick of black color for the Weld rune. If he could mix the bone dust and a few other choice plants together properly, he could even make a stick of white for the Bone rune. Too bad he couldn’t just burn the bone dust into the right shape with fire; the heat would crack the shatter rock and ruin the rune entirely. Now all he would have to do is get started on hunting manticores. With enough time, he could have a true home for himself. Meat for food, bone and hide for his home, blood for… crap, he wasn’t growing anything to use bloodmeal on. Blood for red? It’d work. He certainly wasn’t going to waste it, in any case.

Dragon paused in mid-step with a hoof raised, his ears perking as an unearthly howl beginning from far to his left. The wolf had begun alone only for two, no three, others to join in, the voices reaching an painful crescendo that seemed to resonate through the very Forest itself, utterly silencing all activity out of respect for the Hunt. Dragon understood that, at the very least. A Hunt was an action worthy of respect, predator against prey, the loser becoming a meal for the winner. Usually, Dragon dare not interrupt a Hunt. It was something to be revered, understood, and participate in, but not something to be interrupted.

“By the stars, it seems I am not lucky,” A distinctly female voice cursed from the distance, only barely heard by his attuned senses. “In times like this, I hate the Everfree!”

Dragon cursed under his breath, already springing into action as he charged after the voice, his ears barely picking up the sound of crashing underbrush and thudding paws on the ground. It seems as if he couldn’t just sit by on this Hunt; he had to save the prey. Damn Equestrians and not knowing how to stay out of trouble.

The Hunter could tell he was catching up to the wolf that was bringing up the rear, the thudding paws easily heard from somewhere to his front left. He could hear a slight, unstrained panting as the wolf took rapid yet steady breaths so it could keep running, a fact t-

Dragon leaped into the air, soaring over the burning wolf as it run in panic, the fire burning away its fur and leaving behind only charred skin and agony. The fire had been an unnatural purple, likely from some form of mixture or spell rather than actual fire. The sounds of snapping limbs quickly spiked before fading off as two wolves darted away, the sight, sound, and smell of their burning ally driving them to flee in panic. Only the wolf he was trailing remained in pursuit, a fact that the mare seemed aware of as well as she kept running.

The Imperial ducked under a low-lying branch and caught sight of the final wolf, a charcoal grey specimen that screamed power as muscles tensed and contracted beneath its fur as it ran. For a moment, the canine flickered in and out of his sight as it was sporadically obscured by foliage. A minute later, they bursted into a long clearing. Dragon caught sight of the tail end of a cloak disappearing into a literal treehouse, the wooden door slamming shut a moment later. Without hesitation, Dragon dug his hooves into the ground and slid to a stop. With a single motion, he shrugged his bow over his shoulder, drew an arrow, planted the bow in the ground, nocked the air, and drew back in the time it took the wolf to notice he was there.

By then, it was too late.

The steel arrowhead pierced the wolf’s eye, driving straight through the thinner skull and into the brain of the predator, ending it quickly and painlessly. Not a sound was uttered as the beast fell to the ground and lay still. Dragon listened, another arrow already nocked on his bowstring. There were no more wolves in the area, the other three having long since fled. Chances are, the hunting pack of four had been reduced to two, the burning wolf likely having died already.

With silence filling the Everfree as the Forest seemed to pay its respects to the fallen members, he slung his bow over his shoulder again and replaced his arrow in his quiver. He started walking toward the treehouse, sparing the slain wolf a glance only long enough to regain his arrow and wipe it off on the fur. He stopped at the plainly painted door recessed into the trunk, taking note of the large mask hanging above it. He knocked loudly. “Ma’am? The wolf is dead. Are you alright? Ma’am?”

He heard hoofsteps quickly approach the door before pulling it open. Dragon blinked in mild surprise as he paused mid speaking, coming face to face with a Zebra mare for the first time in his life. Her eyes quickly roamed over him, settling on his teeth before locking eyes with him. Then he blinked again when she spoke.

“Could this truly be a magical phony, the presence of a carnivorous pony?”

It seemed the zebra had yet to meet an Imperial as well. She also lived inside the Everfree. This was going to be interesting.

Author's Note

Couple things to say here. I'm trying a writing style I'm not entirely familiar with so, if you notice any difference between this chapter and the last, point it out and tell me if you like it or not.

So, Dragon Arrow meets Zecora, as everyone expected. I already love/hate writing her rhyming, but I kinda went overboard in my OCD-ness. Each line has the same amount of syllables as the equivalent rhyme.