It was time.
The sprawling metropolis of Canterlot was filled with its usual hustle and bustle as ponies rushed to purchase various necessities: food, clothing, and other items were exchanged for bits as per usual.
Street lights sparked to life, painting the city's major avenues in their glowing warmth, contrasting with the intrusive neon that began making its way into the cobbled streets. Some groups bid each other goodnight, while others greeted each other with mischievous grins—their day did not end with the setting of the sun, after all. There was no fun in that.
Merchant stands and shops began closing and ushering stray customers away politely. The patrons of said establishments gave varying degrees of acceptance, but they nonetheless abided and began their journies home.
The streets had begun hosting different kinds of patrons as the city's thriving nightlife began to stir. Night clubs, bars, and other forms of more evocative sources of entertainment fired up, preparing to receive the more adventurous of the population.
The hour of the Sun's setting drew closer, and the commotion of the big city died down, being tucked away in the various outcroppings of nightlife. The air around the city was beginning to settle, complimenting the serenity of what was looking to be a clear, beautiful night.
Those were her favorite.
High above the city, in a tower overlooking everything, a young alicorn stood at the foot of her grand bed, counting the seconds as they passed by, and as they did, her anticipation rose steadily. Slowly, she made her way across the royal chamber, picking up the pace slightly as she did so, though—in reality—she playfully skipped to her destination as though she were a giddy teenager once more.
With a dignified flare, the dark alicorn ignited her horn, feeling the usual magical flow begin to course its way from the base to the apex of her horn. She patiently—as much as she could manage—allowed the energy to pour from her horn, gliding its way through the air, spiraling and twirling with the grace that she had honed for centuries. As the wisp of magical energy reached the gilded doors that led to the chamber's balcony, the alicorn allowed herself a small, childish smirk before willing the doors open.
The once calm air of the chamber gave way to the coolness of dusk, billowing into the room and enveloping the alicorn in its cool, delicate grasp. She breathed a sigh of contentment as the breeze lifted her start-studded mane from her withers and flowed down her back, coaxing her into relaxing the stiff muscles that were quite stubborn in response. Soon, though, they complied, and the alicorn was rewarded with a moment of tranquility. She was grateful.
Yes, it was time.
After allowing herself to enjoy the brief moment of peace, she stepped forward onto the balcony, once again counting the seconds until she could do what was likely her favorite thing to do. After all, tonight was no ordinary night.
As the fading remnants of the Sun's rays began to fall out of sight and beneath the horizon, the alicorn's sly smirk quickly grew into a bright smile. A glow just brighter than before sprang from her horn, blanketing the perch where she stood in a pale blue aura of light. She inclined her head slightly, willing the Moon to awaken from its scheduled slumber. Soon, she could see the pure streaks of light emanating from the opposite horizon, casting shadows onto the lands before her. Slowly but surely, the clear blackness of the night sky was finally accompanied by its faithful companion: a brilliant Full Moon. As she guided it towards its rightful place in the sky, her horn faintly grew dimmer into a lowly hue before fading entirely.
Perfect, she thought. Perfect.
She has never, and will never, get used to such a sight. Before her, the lands of Equestria and its inhabitants rested peacefully, basked in her Moon's precious light. The mountains that surrounded Canterlot were also blessed with the Moon's radiance, twinkling under the vast night sky.
Resting on her haunches, the alicorn took in the quiet of her night, allowing herself to relax. Concentrating, she drew herself into her mind. In a moment, she let her eyes drift closed and let the world around her grow darker and darker until she was consumed by an abyss of absence. Waiting another moment, she pulled herself upward in her mind, dispersing the darkness around her and leaving behind ethereal light. Opening her eyes once more, she was greeted with the familiar environment of the Dreamscape.
Completely surrounding her were the stars of her night sky, accompanied by the orbs of light. These were her subjects, or rather, the dreams of her subjects. As always, a few immediately caught her attention: A certain pink party pony enjoying her tenth "frosting party" dream in a row. The alicorn smirked as memories of her first visit to one of these parties came to the foreground of her thoughts, the images causing warmth to arise in her cheeks. Though her trip was short, it had proved to be . . . memorable, to say the least.
Another orb, this one close to the last, depicted a gray mare laying in a pile freshly-baked muffins, clearly enthralled in the experience. The alicorn chuckled at the pair of happy—and very different kinds of happy—orbs of light, shifting them away with her magic as she pushed passed them.
As she moved amongst the orbs, she found what would prove to be her first stop for the night—a darkened orb clouded in a lilac-colored mist. Upon reaching it, she took the orb in her magic, bringing it closer to her face. Inside, she could faintly make out what appeared to be a dense forest blanketed in thick sheets of snow. Making matters more difficult, a severe blizzard made it almost impossible to see anything else. Though the princess could not gather any more information from her current perspective, she wagered that this was anything but a good dream. Focusing her attention on the orb, she bled the reality of the dream into her mind, being careful not to disrupt the environment within. Opening her eyes, she was met with the blinding white of the unknown forest.
"Time to get to work," she remarked to herself, smiling as she traversed the unknown wood in search of somepony in need.
* * * *
She was tired. Very Tired.
The first couple stops of the night left her feeling surprisingly refreshed: both had proved to be much less daunting than her first inspections were to make her think. She was thankful for that. All too often, it was the case that her nightly dream walking was never an evenly paced endeavor.
Even still, she was beginning to feel the weight of exhaustion creeping up on her, pressing down on her shoulders ever so slightly. Her shift was not over, though. Despite her slightly soured mood, she pressed on. Though the night was drawing to a close, she still had subjects to attend to.
She wandered the Dreamscape for a while, counting her steps as she did so. As she continued counting, the weight on her shoulders began to lift, easing her stress and anxiety. As Princess of the Night, she was used to quiet, but that did not mean she always welcomed it.
Tired of counting steps, she opted for counting orbs, a pass-time that she often indulged in. After zoning out on a group of pleasant-looking orbs, the alicorn's ears twitched in response to a familiar noise, causing her body to tense up abruptly.
"Hello?" the alicorn called out, her royal disposition temporarily shaken by the abrupt . . . voice? Was that what that was?
Shaking off the initial bout of confusion, she closed her eyes and relaxed. Clearing her thoughts, she listened for anything that would confirm her suspicions. The seconds dragged on as she strained her ears, painfully trying to pinpoint the source of the noise—if there was one.
Following a minute of complete silence, she exhaled, forcing herself to relax and chalking the moment up as her tired mind's attempts at being humorous. Frowning, she chastised her brain; it had never been good at jokes, and now was certainly not a time for comedy.
"I really need to start bringing something to help keep me concentrated in here", she commented to nopony-in-particular. Yawning, she stretched her forehooves above her head and continued her way amongst the orbs of light.
"You would think I'd take better precautions. I mean, seriously. What would ponies think if one of their rulers showed up in their dreams—good or bad—and began acting as though taking a nap was more important than their psychological struggles? That would be absolutely unacceptable. It is my duty to aid them in defeating their demons, not use their mental playgrounds—or battlefields—as a spot to engage in repose!" The alicorn deadpanned; she was doing it again wasn't she?
"I'm talking to myself . . . again," the alicorn grumbled. Upon realizing this, she opted for another dynamic stretch and dramatic yawn, hoping the movements would allow her to resume her actual purpose in being here. However, a thought tugged away at her, preventing her focus from returning to the task at hoof.
"Now that I think about it, have I ever really asked anypony what they thought of me poking inside their dreams? Huh . . . oh, dear." The alicorn's brow furrowed as she contemplated. "I should really ask the—"
The alicorn's eye-opening train of thought was abruptly cut short by another far-off cry behind her, mimicking the one from before. This time, she was ready.
Turning in the direction of the disturbance, she jumped to her hooves and bounded towards the noise.
As she streaked passed the bright orbs, she noted that the noise didn't seem to be coming from any of them. In fact, as another bout of the muddled cry began to make itself heard, she was inclined to believe it was coming from somewhere beyond the orbs, an observation that she was quick to rally against.
"Anything but that," she whispered under her increasingly heavy breath.
It was not helping that no matter how close she thought she was getting to the cry's source, the noise itself hadn't become clearer or more understandable. Instead, it seemed to move unnaturally, avoiding the alicorn's attempts at both reaching the source and comprehending it.
After losing the noise's direction once more, she began dashing in random directions in a desperate attempt to get closer to whoever it was that needed her help. To her disappointment—and annoyance—no matter what direction she turned, the noise would somehow always come from a slightly different place than what she was heading towards.
Even more frustrating was the voice's strange dialect, which contributed to the difficulty of understanding it. It unnerved the alicorn, if only slightly. Though she still struggled to piece together the warped voice, there was an innate urgency in it that felt . . . familiar. She brushed the feeling off as best she could and pressed on.
As she distanced herself from the orbs, she began to see the edge of this reality. As there were no orbs out this far, the plane of the Dreamscape simply dissipated into a black nothingness, its purpose not extending out this far. The sight had spooked the alicorn when she was first beginning to dream walk. Even now, she was wary of approaching it. It was less of fear and more out of respect for the unknown. At least, that was what she had always told herself. Yes, a respect of the unknown and a willingness to leave it be.
As she came to the edge of what she knew to be the Dreamscape, she frantically looked in all directions, once more straining to remember the direction of the voice that had yet to become intelligible. Taking a moment to calm herself, she looked to what she had always considered the end of this realm, or at least the end of what she had always governed.
Once more, the cry assaulted the air around the alicorn. This time, however, she was able to confirm one thing: it was certainly coming from beyond the veil of black.
Now, though, parts of the voice were becoming clearer. At first, this relieved the alicorn of a small amount of stress, but as she rolled the words over in her mind, she quickly became worried. As she carried out more mental repetitions of the words, her worry slowly inched its ways into panic.
Normally, she would always approach a situation such as this in a positive light. Everything here, after all, was a dream, and dreams could, in some way or another, be fixed or saved or changed into something that wasn't horrifying. This wasn't normal, though; she not only felt it, now she could hear it.
There had never been voices outside of the orbs without her directly tapping into them with her magic, and there had never been voices this far out from everything. These facts did nothing to help her panic subside.
"This is not possible," she told the darkness in front of her. "This cannot be happening. You are not real . . . you cannot be." By now, she had taken a seat at the edge of nothing, her eyes pleading the abyss to take the voice away and hide it.
The dark alicorn sat there on the precipice of the Dreamscape, staring into an unknown abyss of darkness she had not dared to interact with before. For the first time in a very long time, she was afraid. Even inside the Dreamscape, she was afraid, not of the abyss itself, but of what could be beyond it.
She was afraid of what the voice meant.
She paused, waiting for the voice one more time, hoping—nay, praying—it wasn't what she thought she heard. Maybe she was hearing things after all. Maybe . . . just maybe. . .
"Please, don't be real. Just this once, I wish to be crazy." The alicorn closed her eyes and bowed her head, willing her plea to become reality . . .
Instead, the voice answered her, louder and clearer than before.
The alicorn reluctantly opened her eyes. Her ears folded back as she looked toward the ground, pawing at it with a regal hoof. She fought to keep her thoughts under control, to keep her anxiety from boiling over. Her attempts barely succeeded.
"You can do this," she told herself, slowly looking up again and fixing her gaze on the abyss. "You. Can. Do this." She settled her hooves into the ethereal floor, preparing for the unknown. With a pained sigh and a heavy heart, she stretched her wings, readying them. For what, she did know. Looking back one final time, she hoped she wouldn't miss anything crucial while away. That wouldn't look good, now would it?
Composing herself and settling into a loaded stance, she lept into the darkness. As she did so, the voice echoed within her mind, her face settling into a determined countenance.
I'm coming, she thought, hoping to somehow communicate this to whoever was listening. I promise, I'm coming.
Once again, a voice was heard, meek and timid, but laden with terror:
"Please . . . don't let her hurt me anymore."
Author's Note
This is my first fic to be published. As such, I expect it to be heavily flawed, and I imagine constructive criticism will be plentiful. I appreciate it.
Thank you for reading.
The darkness was thick, as if it were tar or sludge. It hindered any motion she set forth into it, locking her in place despite all her struggles.
To make matters worse, the air was uncomfortably heavy and forced her to concentrate more on filling her lungs rather than focusing on where she was.
Opening her mouth to continue pleading for help, her throat screamed with a fiery resentment. Unable to utter anything beyond that of a hoarse whisper, she settled for keeping her mouth shut. Consequences for what she had already done would soon be upon her, she figured. For now, though, her thoughts were the only thing to keep her company.
She had to get out. That is all she knew.
Her mind struggled under the atmosphere of the room, if "room" were an accurate way to describe what surrounded her. She could never describe this place, which was due in part to the fact she couldn't see most of it. The majority of the space was shrowded in thick darkness that was almost mist-like.
Then again, she rarely focused on trying to describe it; she always wanted to leave it.
Opportunities for escape were severely limited considering moving was essentially impossible at the moment, but that didn't stop her from trying. Every few moments, she wracked her muscles to squirm out of whatever held her in place, her small arms and legs being easily held captive by the everpresent darkness.
She had already tried crying: her face was still wet with past tears, almost burned in her otherwise soft cheeks and delicate visage. Crying had done nothing to aid in her rescue, and it certainly did nothing to stop her.
Old memories of previous events wormed their way to the foreground of her mind upon realizing the futility of crying. New tears, hot and full of fear, began working their way to the front of her eyes. Immediately, she began thrashing in vain to free herself from her prison, her broken voice echoing off the endless walls of darkness. She couldn't face her again.
Her frail limbs finally gave out, aching as she withheld further efforts in contracting them. Then, she heard a familiar sound; a sound that made her blood run cold.
Footsteps, loud and angry, were making their way very quickly to where ever she was.
She was coming.
"No . . . no, please. I'm sorry," she began, her voice barely audible against the almost deafening footsteps. "I'll be quiet from now on, just don't hurt me anymore. Please!"
The footsteps surrounded her, encasing her in what seemed to be an onslaught of their noise. She was sure she'd go deaf.
The noise grew louder and louder, and the air around her contracted in response, restricting her already struggling lungs even more.
She clenched her eyes shut, desperately trying to get her lungs to expand and fill. Failing to do so, she opened her eyes, tears flowing freely and vision growing darker and darker. She finally allowed herself to got limp under the oppressive force of it all . . .
Her eyes shot open, and she sat-up slightly. Looking around, she was met with a dark room: her bedroom. Nothing had changed this time. Its features were masked under the lack of light, but she felt it.
Suddenly, pain wracked her chest. She pressed her hands hard against her heart, trying to knead the pain away. As was always the case, nothing she did helped ease the tightness in her chest. Nothing helped quell the stabbing in her chest, nor the needles riddling her entire body. It felt like her heart wanted to beat out of her chest as forcefully as possible.
She once again found herself out of breath, but she continued to concentrate at calming her heart down. Slowly but surely, her heart abided, settling into an irregular rhythm. Though it wasn't quite normal yet, she let her arms drift to her sides and tried to relax.
Upon finding she could breathe freely again, she sucked in lung-full after lung-full of air, only stopping to help quiet the sobs that began wracking her body. She clutched at the stuffed banana her father had given her. It was for her 7th birthday, and it provided the only comfort most nights. The thoughts only forced more tears to escape her eyes.
She needed to be quiet, lest she hear her out here.
She continued sobbing into her banana and pillow for what felt like hours, pushing away the horrible nightmare as far as she could and making sure the pillow absorbed most of the sound.
Eventually, her eyes had no more tears to cry, leaving them dried and bloodshot. Wiping at the sudden irritation with the back of a small hand, she found the courage to sit-up completely from the safeness of her banana and covers.
Re-examining her room, she once again confirmed both its peacefulness and its emptiness—two things that normally calmed her down. Tonight was different it would seem.
Slowly she settled back down into the mess of blankets and pillows, choking down sobs that tried to make their way up. Fighting to get her breath back once again, she closed her eyes.
Not wanting to risk another horrible nightmare, she focused on seeing the stars. She concentrated on filling the darkness behind her eyelids with the color of the night sky. Silently, she prayed a star would come down and swoop her up in its arms, taking her to see even more beautiful lights and colors. The thought brought something resembling a smile to her tear-stained cheeks.
When no such star made itself known, she vowed to try again some other time. Stars were surely very busy things, so she wasted no time on being hurt by it.
Feeling the familiar lure of sleep beginning to take her, she reluctantly forced her eyes to open despite the pain.
Suddenly, an idea came to her: it was still dark out, which meant that she could look at the stars if she was quiet.
Slowly, she poked her head over the edge of safety, checking both the floor and underneath the bed for potential dangers. Confirming that no such threat existed at the moment, she carefully inched one foot onto the fuzzy carpet below. One foot was quickly followed by the other as she gathered herself in a crouched stance, making sure not to displace the floor; mother wouldn't appreciate her being out of bed this late.
Gradually, she tip-toed alongside her bed, her small heart thumping in her chest as she approached the small window on the left of the room. When she reached the dresser in front of the window, she hopped onto it, arousing an audible creak as the wooden structure argued in response. She froze immediately and waited patiently for the noise to die out.
Crouched in complete stillness on top of the dresser, she waited. She scanned the room, stopping on the door, and she waited.
For a sound.
For anything that would warrant a scramble to the tangled mess that was her bed.
When nothing came, her shoulders slumped as she let out a long, relieved sigh. Turning back to the objective, she reached up to pull the last remaining obstacle up.
As the blinds receded upward, moonlight flooded into the room, enveloping her in its pureness.
Stars shone and twinkled in the sky. Royal blues and violets danced and mixed and intertwined on the deep dark canvas of night. The brightest stars dotted the entire display in specks of white and blue and red. An entire galaxy of light was spread across the sky in an elaborate painting natural beauty.
She thought it was stunning.
Curled into a ball with her hands wrapped around her knees, she sat there and soaked in every bit of light she could.
Completely entranced, she almost didn't notice the faint purple glow emerging from the darkest corner of her room, nor the figure cloaked in the natural darkness that remained when the purple glow faded. Almost.
The girl whipped her head around, taking in the new visitor with her own eyes. It was taller than her, but not taller than an adult. Beyond that, she hadn't the faintest idea who—or what—the figure was.
Carefully, she began to dismount the perch she held atop the dresser, not daring to take her eyes off the thing in the corner. Half-way through the movement, the thing took a single step forward, which completely shattered the girl's thin resolve.
The girl tumbled to the ground, smacking her head hard against the rug floor. Rubbing her head, she got to her feet and let out an ear-piercing scream, causing the figure to retreat in the corner abruptly.
Sensing her breath running out, the girl withheld her vocal onslaught and stared at the figure in horror, completely frozen. It was as if her legs simply turned to stone.
Her heart hammered in her chest, which heaved in heavy, unsteady breaths. The girl's instincts told her to run. To hide in her bed that was surely the only safe haven within reach. Instead, she stood there, observing the thing that seemed to be rubbing its head.
The crack at the bottom of her bedroom door suddenly was filled with artificial light, startling the girl out of her stupor. Soon, the light was followed by rapidly approaching footsteps.
"Lucy? Lucy, is everything alright in there, sweetie?" called a familiar feminine voice from down the hall.
Instinctually, Lucy turned and started for her bed. Before she got to salvation, however, pain seared through her chest once more, forcing her onto one knee as she clutched her chest.
No, not now! she pleaded.
Tears blurred her vision, but she slowly made her way into her bed, pulling herself into a cocoon of blankets and pillows. She swallowed hard, fighting down the pain and cries that threatened to break free from her. To help cover this up, she faced away from the door.
Just as she moved onto the appropriate side of the bed, her door swung open.
Though she could not see, she could hear the footsteps approach her bed quickly.
Summoning all of her remaining will, Lucy fought to appear as though she were sleeping.
She forced her eyes shut, willing herself to relax. Met with mild success, her stillness was only interrupted by the slight tremors that coursed through her chest erratically, causing her muscles to occasionally spazz with her straining heart.
She prayed the new visitor wouldn't notice.
The visitor in question reached the bed, gently turning Lucy to face towards the door. Lucy suddenly felt a soft hand against her cheek, which lifted her head slightly off her pillow. A second hand reached her forehead, gently stroking it in a manner that elicited a soft murmur from Lucy.
"I hope you're not just pretending to be asleep again," the visitor spoke in a hushed whisper. "You worry me sometimes, sweetie. Heck, I think all I worry about is you anymore."
Lucy remained still, her breath finally calming down thanks to the visitor.
"Love you, Lucy. Sleep well." With that, Lucy felt a small kiss on her forehead, and the visitor's hands slowly guided her head back down to the awaiting pillow.
As her door clicked shut once more, Lucy's eyes sprang open.
That was close.
Slowly sitting up in her bed, she immediately scanned the room in search of the figure in the corner. It was still there, motionless in the shadows. Her heart still fluttered in her chest, but curiosity was beginning to take over.
She rolled out of her bed, sliding onto the floor gently, and she began to gingerly make her way over to the corner. This time, when the figure moved forward as well, she did not cower.
Seeming to be prompted by her acceptance of its presence, the figure moved forward again. It was now on the edge of the shadow and the moonlight the trickled in from the room's window.
Lucy turned her head to one side, squinting into the darkness to try to see the figure more clearly. It stepped forward once again. She could now make out faint details of the figure.
Bright, luminous eyes stared into her own. They looked at her curiously, studying her with a wondrous gleam.
The figure stepped forward again.
Now, she could make out a long snout-like muzzle that was covered in dark . . . fur? Its "mouth" appeared to be curled in some sort of smirk. Lucy met the smirk with one of her own, realizing what was lurking in the darkness.
The figure took another step forward, its head held in perfect view, high in the moonlight.
A long, ethereal mane flowed from its head and neck, dotted with stars and constellations, some of which Lucy recognized and some of which she didn't. The figure's smirk was now a comforting, mother-like smile. It reminded Lucy of her own mother's.
"Hello there, little filly," the figure began in a firm, yet gentle voice. "I did not mean to frighten you so badly." The stranger paused and shifted its gaze into one corner of its vision, seeming to ponder what its next words should be.
After a brief moment of silence between the two, the stranger spoke once more. "My name is Prin—I mean . . ." It stumbled but quickly continued. "My name is Luna. May I ask what yours is?"
Lucy stared wide-eyed at what appeared to be a horse. Talking to her. She must be dreaming.
Best. Dream. Ever.
Realizing that it was her turn to speak, Lucy sputtered out a reply:
"L-Lucy . . . my name is Lucy."
Author's Note
Sorry it took so long to get this out. Been busy with summer classes and general life stuff.
Also, here is the image I used for describing the night sky bit. I didn't want to rely on my memories, and I am not overly confident in my ability to describe it:
