Mille Nox Noctis

20 AB

My cerulean magic tears great veins of metal from the dark dust that composes the hidden side of my moon.

My power seems to be stronger since you returned to me, Sister. The great strength within me rekindled.

Molten metal soon floats above me, my raw fury heating it until it is white hot.

From the beautiful silver material I draw beams and pillars, sheets and bolts.

I laugh in the thin air at the absurdity of this all, it is so easy. So simple to construct, why did I not do this sooner?

My new castle rises on the dark side of the moon like a silver dagger into space itself.

I may not be able to fly in this waning atmosphere, but from the height of my tower I can look down on the sea of rocks and dust just as the wretch of the sun does to her subjects.

My citizens need not fear me as hers do. Mine serve me in death as materials to build my castle.

You direct my power and explain the structure you have designed, and I build it.

The lower levels and foundation contained far more cells and chambers of ill portent than I would have preferred, but you know best, Sister.

Once we reached the grand hall, you allowed me my fun. I wove tapestries from metal thread and hung them from the gleaming walls, images of you and I ruling Equestria together as it should be.

“Sister, what of the ponies? They are not our subjects and I have no desire to rule over them. Neigh, no need for them at all.” I complain from my icy throne, playing with a sphere of white hot metal which floats above me.

“Let them perish. Our blessed night shall render them incapable of survival.” My sister explains indifferently.

I do my best to remain calm but spikes of metal form before congealing into a ball again.

“Is so much death truly necessary?” I ask in a practiced, calm voice. “We could teach them to love our nights, give them just enough sunlight to grow and survive but lengthen the nights to coax them into experiencing them.”

Nightmare moon’s expression is unreadable.

“If that is what you will, Sister.” The black alicorn says, watching as the sphere of molten aluminum and silicon turned above us, the heat radiating from it like a miniature sun. “If that is what you will.”

21 AB

You have taken to retreating into your own chambers whenever I make my trip to the light side of the moon to sing or to fight the urge to cry, I know not from where these tears come but I must be strong for you, Sister.

I must bury my tears.

Your habit of hiding from me when I feel this way disturbs me, leaving me alone and isolated when I need your presence the most.

I sometimes feel bursts of rage when you speak, though I do not let them show and I hate myself for them.

What is wrong with me, that I would feel so angry when you are my salvation, my protection?

I desire to make amends, as I am sure I have done something wrong.

On one of the nights which hold nothing for me but dust and my own thoughts, I lay in my chambers with a small piece of metal as the focus of my attention, as I think of what to make for you.

I heat it to malleability in moments, my metal floor and bed shining as the piece flattens out into a thin blade, without handle or hilt. This is a blade designed to be wielded by a magic user, none other.

My magic forces the molten metal into itself with such force it compresses, locking it into that shape as I etch swirls and the phases of the moon into it, finally holding it up to inspect.

The shard gleams dangerously in the starlight, its razor edge seeming to split the air around it. My magic only finds purchase upon the flats of the thing and I carve small holes to add a spot for magic to seek as an anchor.

I name it the Luname.

The name seems familiar, but I strike it from my mind as I present the weapon to you as a gift.

You seem ecstatic, laughing and using it to sheer a column of rock in two. I smile happily, knowing I have done well, I have regained your companionship.

And that is all I ever wanted.

22 AB

My sister and I rule the moon as the sun goddess rules her wretched Equestria. As she forces ponies to toil under the hot sun before casting them into sleep when the moon rises, we have only our rocks which we boil for their precious metal before discarding into piles upon the dust.

At least our subjects are not alone.

They have each other, and they have us.

I have carved marks upon a few stones I have hidden from you, Sister. I fear for some reason you would be unhappy with my collection.

They are reminders of ponies I can barely remember.

Starswirl, Silver, Moonflower, Brightstar.

The names are ingrained in me and I am ashamed I cannot remember what they looked like. But I know they are important to me.

I feel as though I am missing one. Every time I look down on my collection of memories, they are arranged in an open pentagram.

Something is wrong, Sister, I shall ask you soon. Surely you must know all the ponies I am friends with.

23 AB

The little one suspects something. Being part of her mind and soul apparently wasn't enough to let me root around in her skull undetected.

She came to me asking who you were, Sister. I have burned you from her mind so well she doesn't even remember your name.

I feel quite proud of myself.

Even if I lose control over my sniveling companion, I can torture her for so very long with the knowledge that she cannot remember so much as your name.

But the fact that she remembers the names of the four others is troublesome. She could gain memories and regain her memories of myself using that much.

There is unfortunately nothing I can do about her knowing those accursed names, but I can certainly punish her for remembering them.

I could lie to her, twist the little knowledge she has until she despises them, or I could lead her to think that they are other aspects of herself. That would risk hitting too close to home though.

No, I think the truth will be much harder to bear. Perhaps this will be what finally breaks her, Sister. Then when I finally escape you can have your pathetic foal back.

24 AB

I awake to the sound of dripping. Which is disturbing since I am on the moon and there is no precipitation.

With a swift movement, I get out of my bed and stand, only to be faced with something I had long forgotten.

How I wish I could not remember now.

I had forgotten what Moonflower looked like, because this had been the last time I had seen her.

No pony deserves to be remembered this way.

Chained up against a mossy stone wall, her pure white coat stood in stark contrast to the blue of her mane, and the deep red of the blood that dripped from her every limb.

I heard my own voice, speaking without my consent.

“You hath betrayed your queen, Moonflower. You speak of high treason and regicide.” I shake my head, trying to believe my own memories are inaccurate.

Moonflower raises her head and upon it is the most beautiful smile.

“Yes. I would be. If you were a dark queen and not the princess I know and love.”

My throat is tied shut by a sudden wave of tears, but that does not stop my traitorous voice.

“I AM YOUR QUEEN!” My memories scream as a deep gash is torn in the pristine white of her stomach.

Even as she hangs, dying, that smile never fades. “Now.... I know you didn't mean that.... Why don't you go ahead and apologize?”

My voice screams in incomprehensible rage as Moonflower is torn apart before my eyes. I feel her blood upon my coat.

Then I am returned to my room. In my hooves, I hold the stone with the lily carved upon it.

The sound of dripping returns as the tears fall, unabated.