Luna's Soliloquy

by El Loco Loro

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Sad, Princess Luna, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 2441

Princess Luna struggles with the guilt and regrets of her past mistakes. Tonight, her struggles are especially difficult.

Princess Luna has had a...difficult life. The rift that separated her from her sister, the advent of Nightmare Moon, and the Tantabus are all chapters of her life's story she wishes had never happened. The torment of memories such as these has resulted in a never-ending struggle to come to terms with her checkered past.

Tonight, Luna's struggle is especially difficult. Will she be able to endure the emotional onslaught of her grief and regrets? Or will she crumble under its weight, her heart torn asunder by the burden of self-condemnation?

Warning: This story may trigger feelings of depression in those who deal with it. If depression is a part of your life (as it is a part of mine), please bear this in mind if you decide to read it.

Published 2020-03-30 01:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-03-30 01:10:01 UTC

Guilt and Regret

Luna’s Soliloquy

I stand on the balcony, putting the finishing touches on tonight’s sky. It is a quiet night, all things considered. The night court let out early, no visiting dignitaries to deal with, and surprisingly no reports of trouble anywhere in Equestria. It’s as if everything was right in the world tonight. At the very least, it allows me additional time to arrange the night sky. I smile to myself as the last stars are set in place, making for a beautiful display I’d wanted to try for some time. I gaze over my work contentedly, pleased at how well it has all come together. So beautiful.

I turn my attention to the dreamscape. The waking world may sometimes be lacking in interest (tonight included), but the dreamscape never ceases to amaze me, even if there are no nightmares to contend with. Curiously enough, there are no nightmares about tonight. It seems funny, but it’s almost as if some great agency had decreed tonight’s solitude; I chuckle at the thought. I watch over only a few dreams, amazed yet again by the vast, and sometimes profound, dreams and visions ponies tend to have. I never grow tired of it.

I return to the waking world and look out over the land, assured that all is well in Equestria. Yes, everything seems peaceful and quiet tonight. I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly through my nostrils. I hate when it’s this quiet.

Do not misunderstand me. I am grateful when peace abounds, and I would never wish misery and strife on anypony. It’s just that…well…whenever the moment is this quiet, my thoughts tend to wander. I become deeply contemplative about matters both great and small, about memories both good and bad. Tonight, unfortunately, will not be a good night. Tonight, I am caught up in yet another internal struggle with the memories of my past misdeeds.

As if of their own volition, my thoughts wander back to when everything started; those memories always hurt the most. How I wish I could go back and mediate between the younger incarnations of myself and Celestia. How I long to show my sister how grand a pedestal she had unknowingly found herself on, and how it caused her to ignore me and to overlook my sorrow.

How I long to impart wisdom to my younger self, to show her better, more constructive ways to deal with her distress, all the while acknowledging the reality and sincerity of her feelings. How I long to gather her in my hooves and comfort her and tell her that things will be alright. Maybe then the rift between me and Celestia will have been lessened in its scope and severity, if not sealed altogether. Maybe, just maybe, this type of intervention could have prevented the advent of Nightmare Moon.

Nightmare Moon, that horrible and damnable abomination I had become. Is it wrong to want to be acknowledged for the work one does? Is it wrong to want to be appreciated for the dedication and commitment towards the goals one pours their heart and soul into? No. Every one of us has a natural desire to be validated for who we are and what we do, after all. It is not an object or a concept that is right or wrong; rather, it is how we use it that determines its morality or immorality. And, to be honest, what I had done to achieve what I desired was by no means right or moral.

I find myself replaying that night in my mind, the night I was fully consumed by Nightmare Moon. Oh, Celestia, how I hated her. I remember the fury and anger I felt towards her as I tried to destroy her. I remember how I wanted her dead for everything she had done to me. And I remember how close I came to accomplishing my goals. Yes, I was very close indeed. Yet, so certain was I of my victory, so consumed was I by acrimony and resentment, that I failed to realize (until too late) that Celestia had acquired the Elements of Harmony and turned them against me.

Oh, sister, you should have listened to me! Why didn’t you listen to me? Why couldn’t you see what was happening to me? Why couldn’t you see that accursed pedestal you were on that blinded you to my plight? And why…why did you send me away like that? Why didn’t you just…kill me instead?

I stop for a moment; I have to. It is only now that I realize my current predicament. My chest is hitching, my cheeks are moist, and it is when I look down and see the small puddle at my hooves that I realize I have been crying for some time now.

I move along the balcony, drying my eyes and getting my breath under control as I go. I look around the skies; nopony there. I look back into my room. Again, there is nopony there. Good, that is good. I would hate to have to explain my behavior if somepony was there. No doubt word of this would reach my sister’s ears; well, once it has circulated through half of Canterlot first, no doubt.

I close my eyes and try to focus my thoughts, taking deep breaths as I go. It’s not easy. After all, a few years of relative contentment and happiness can only do so much to salve more than a thousand years’ worth of anger and bitterness.

My mind is still plagued, even today, with the memories of what I had done. I’ve lost count of the number of times I have broken down and wept over the regret of my past actions. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve inwardly lashed out at myself in self-hatred because I was too blind to see what effect my actions were having on those around me. No, I didn’t just hate myself; I absolutely despised myself. I abhorred myself. I believed myself to be the worst creature to have been given this curse called life. I…I sometimes wish that I had been slain instead of banished.

I stop myself again. Once more, my thoughts are getting out of control. I feel my heart pounding rapidly, ready to burst inside my chest. I force myself to focus more strongly. I need to get a hold of myself; I must. I also notice that I am shaking all over. I swear this inner turmoil will be the death of me one day. Fresh tears trickle down my face, but I do not bother to wipe them away.

Shouldn’t this get easier to deal with as time goes on? There have been times when I’ve opened up to Celestia about these feelings in private, and I’m very grateful for the encouragement and support she gives me. Sometimes, she will simply drop everything for my sake whenever she sees me bemoaning my past. I am very thankful for her being there for me. Yet, despite the passage of time and my sister’s support, it just doesn’t seem to be getting much better at times.

After what feels like hours, I am finally able to re-gain control of my thoughts and feelings, and I am weary from it. I force myself to remember that Celestia and I are both responsible for what happened all those years ago. I force myself to remember that she and I have admitted our faults, that we have settled our differences, and that our bond as sisters is now stronger than ever. I force myself to remember that we can overcome any obstacle between us if we just sit down, express our feelings, genuinely listen to what the other is saying, and strive to bring about a reasonable, and mutually beneficial, solution.

I feel myself growing more calm and quiet. My heartbeat is slowing down and resuming its normal pace. I look up at the display I created, hoping to bring about even a slight distraction from my thoughts. It is somewhat successful. I look over my latest work, scrutinizing every detail, examining the various patterns and formations, the fluid swirling patterns here, the star clusters and groups over there. Yes, I am truly happy I had time to create this particular display.

My contentment, unfortunately, is short-lived as my attention is drawn to a specific pattern in the eastern sky. Something about it looks rather familiar, and not in a pleasant manner. I study it more closely. Where have I seen that pattern before? My curiosity gives way to regret as the answer is made clear. Yes, I know that pattern. I had unintentionally created a star formation of my greatest post-Nightmare Moon mistake; the Tantabus.

My spirits sink once more as I turn my eyes away from that pattern, fresh tears welling up in my eyes yet again. I remember the guilt that plagued my every thought, the vicious metaphorical beatings I put myself through, and the intense self-loathing I felt when I realized that the Tantabus was growing in strength and power through my guilt.

I had created the Tantabus to haunt my dreams, to always remind me of the terrible things I had done as Nightmare Moon. I had no desire to be that…that creature ever again. I never wanted anything like that to happen again. And so, I reasoned, by being tormented in this manner, by constantly being reminded of the horrible atrocities I had committed, I could be absolutely certain that I would never again become Nightmare Moon.

Did it work? Yes, yes it did. Every night, the Tantabus would force me to re-visit each and every one of my sins in my mind’s eye. Every night, I would tell myself that I was the reason I became Nightmare Moon (even though it was but a half-truth). Every night, I would find myself overwhelmed by the guilt and regret brought on by my actions. Yet, for all the self-inflicted torment and punishment I lavished upon myself, I had become more and more determined to never allow my past sins to repeat themselves. I had become a better pony because of it.

At least, that’s what I thought. Soon, the Tantabus grew in power and was able to break free from my control. I had never even considered the possibility that it could, or would, do that. Now it was free, free to haunt the dreams of everypony whose minds it could invade. I had done this. I had created the Tantabus. I gave it the purpose of transforming dreams into nightmares. I was responsible once more for terrorizing the population with my shortcomings. It was all my fault.

My despair had sunk to a new low that night. Oh, how I hated myself. I could never possibly forgive myself for what I had done; not then, not ever. Once again, my short-sightedness was endangering the land that was my home. Once again, my actions were threatening the well-being of my subjects and friends. I was to blame. I did this.

I deserved no forgiveness. I deserved no consideration or understanding from anypony; no, not even from my sister. I deserved punishment. I deserved to be locked away in Tartarus, never to be released. No, I didn’t deserve punishment. I didn’t deserve imprisonment. I deserved to die. I deserved to be publicly executed, to be thrown into the trash heap, to be forgotten.

For the third time tonight, I stop myself. Without realizing it, I had laid my forehead against the balcony’s railing. I see I have been crying again. A small puddle has formed once more around my hooves, and my cheeks are wet with tears.

I struggle to control my breathing. It is a slow and difficult process, made even more difficult by the distress accumulated over the course of the evening. I look across the balcony to the first pool of tears I’d shed. I’d make a mental note to have the cleaning staff clean up the mess, but chances are I’ll forget come sunrise.

Eventually, I am able to regain control of myself. My breathing is now calm and steady. My heartbeat is still beating rapidly, but in time it too will resume its normal pace. I look back at the Tantabus-shaped pattern. Lighting my horn, I quickly dispel it, re-arranging its stars into a new form. Its new look is not as beautiful as the rest of the night sky, but I am too exhausted to care. I really hate when it’s this quiet.

Once again, I force myself to remember things from a factual standpoint. I must remember that the Tantabus was not created with evil intentions. I must remember that I am not evil, that I truly will never again become Nightmare Moon. I must remember to forgive myself for my past transgressions, as I have already been forgiven by others. I must remember to let go of my guilt and regrets, to relieve myself of this emotional burden that has weighed so heavily on my heart. I must strive to be the Luna that I am, the Luna I can be, and not the Luna I was.

I turn around and head back into my room, drying my eyes as I go. Do I feel any better? No, not really. The memories of my mistakes will haunt me for the rest of my life, and they will prevent me from being as happy, or content, as I would like to be. However, I take comfort in knowing that tonight I had dealt with those memories with a reasonable amount of success. It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

I lay down on my bed for some rest, but not before setting my alarm clock. ‘Can’t forget to lower the moon come morning’, I think to myself. ‘Don’t want anypony to think Nightmare Moon has returned, now do we?’ I chuckle a little as I let my weariness overtake me. The last thing I remember before falling asleep is feeling the ever-present weight of my past on my withers.

I think I’ll talk to Celestia about it when she’s awake.

“Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed, is a most undesirable sentiment. If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no account brood over your wrongdoing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean.”

Aldous Huxley

“Troubles hurt the most when they prove self-inflicted.”

Sophocles