Luna's Statistics

by NightmareDash

Rating: teen
Tags: Sad, Princess Luna, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Nightmare Moon
Length: 1603

A spin-off of Statistics by xTSGx, showing Luna's side of those fateful events

Inspired by and based upon Statistics, by xTSGx.

Sometimes, one source of data isn't enough. Sometimes, another set of statistics is necessary to tell the whole story.

Published 2012-09-29 12:44:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-09-29 12:44:01 UTC

The Only Chapter

The statistics end now.

A monster, made a king by power and cunning.

Three hundred seventy-five thousand, four hundred and eighty-two unwilling subjects.

Four hundred ninety-six years of oppression.

Two hundred fifty-three grassroots revolts.

Two hundred fifty-two mercilessly put down.

Two of us, alicorns, born in secret, the last of our kind.

Six Elements, each representing a part of harmony, with strength forgotten by the ages.

One strike, decisive and world-shaking.

A former king, immortalized in stone.

Two of us, new rulers, promising an era of peace and progress.

Three species, united under a single flag.

One thousand, eight hundred seventy-one years of co-rule.

Two princesses, opposite yet equal, or so it is said.

Fourteen hours of your sunlight in a day.

Ten hours left to my night.

Fourteen hours ponies spend working, playing, and enjoying life.

Ten hours ponies spend sleeping.

Five hundred twenty-one visitors to your court on an average day.

Seventy-two visitors to mine on an average night.

Eighty-nine initial recruits for the Equestrian Guard.

Six assigned as personal guards for each princess.

Eighty-three soldiers placed under your command.

Six soldiers placed under mine.

Six founding members of the Lunar Guard.

Two hundred thirteen treaties negotiated without my input.

Ninety-six thousand, seven hundred forty-seven laws passed without my consent or, many times, knowledge.

Fifty-three notable wars over the course of our reign.

Fifty-three requests for a chance to lead in battle.

Twenty-eight replies of "You're too young, Luna."

Nineteen replies of "We'll see" or "Maybe".

Six instances of no reply at all.

Two hundred thirty-nine battles you'd fought in.

Zero battles I'd fought in.

Twenty-three thousand, eight hundred seventy-one books in the Royal Library.

One hundred thirty-seven years for me to finish them all.

One hundred forty-four years for me to finish them all again, along with two hundred and sixty new additions.

Three copies of Thomas Mane's Common Sense.

Two copies of the Griffanian Declaration of Independence.

Four transcripts of your lectures on the value of individuality.

One more blasted celebration about how great you are.

One too many.

Twenty inches of growth.

Forty-inch increase in wingspan.

Three-inch elongation of horn.

Two-size increase in armor.

One night when the moon did not lower.

Nine hours of your begging and pleading.

Nine hours of pure anger, venting through my words.

Sixteen hours of fighting.

Twenty-three square miles of land, better known as Canterlot, utterly destroyed.

One arts district wiped out, my favorite.

One cafe, at the northwest corner of Bridle and Mane, instantaneously set ablaze by a blast of solar energy.

One cafe which was also my favorite.

Two ponies killed in the ensuing fire.

One wise, old couple who showered me with nothing but kindness and friendly advice, and I cared very much about.

Two ponies you never bothered to notice.

One thousand, nine hundred and two square miles of land animated and contaminated by magical fallout.

Twenty-five years of work on three national parks in the area.

Twenty-five years of work made worthless overnight.

Thirty thousand, seven hundred ninety-one stones set in my personal observatory.

Twenty-six thousand, eight hundred forty stones disintegrated, blown to powder, or reduced to rubble.

Two hundred thirty-seven years of astrological study and observation, recorded in fifty-two volumes.

Fifty-two volumes of records buried in debris, never to be recovered.

Three attempts at poisoning you with magical toxin.

Four attempts at baking me to a crisp under concentrated sunlight.

One attempt to suffocate you in pure darkness.

One attempt to bury me in the crumbling masonry of my own castle.

Six ordinary-looking spheres of stone.

One pulsating blast of polychromatic energy.

Six colors, constantly bombarding me with waves of pain.

Two eyes, but nothing to be seen except pure white light.

Two eyes slowly opening, finding themselves in a foreign world.

Two hundred thirty-eight thousand, eight hundred fifty-five miles between me and my home.

Eleven million, five hundred thousand, twenty ponies alive at that moment.

Fourteen thousand, thirty-six ponies take notice of my absence.

Fourteen thousand, thirty-six soldiers left without a leader.

Fourteen thousand, thirty-six working ponies left with years of military training, no purpose or occupation, and a sense of betrayal and resentment.

Eight assassination attempts, or so I'm told.

Three hundred, sixty-five thousand, two hundred fifty days spent in complete and total isolation.

Two hours attempting to fly back, only to be blocked by a magical barrier.

Three hundred, sixty-five thousand, two hundred fifty days trying to stave off insanity.

A total of six centuries focused completely on revenge.

Nine hundred fifty-eight thousand, twenty-nine days experimenting with dark magic.

Sixty-one thousand, two hundred eighty days developing physically.

Two hundred fifty days "meditating", more like brooding.

Three centuries in when I figure I've done all I can do to prepare for my return.

Thirteen days attempting to decide what to do next.

Thirty-thousand, eight hundred two craters on the light side of the moon.

Two hundred twelve paces around the first one I found.

One thousand, eight hundred forty-seven paces around the second one.

Ninety-one paces around the third one...

Twenty paces around the thirty-thousand, eight hundred second one.

Four years mapping the lunar surface in my mind, down to the absolute smallest detail.

For the next three centuries, complete and total insanity

Ninety-five thousand, thirty-six imaginary friends, many recurring and often several a day.

Four thousand, one hundred seventeen visits from you.

None of them real.

Sixty-two thousand, five hundred thirty-eight majestic "castles" built from lunar sand.

Nineteen thousand, three hundred twenty-one fantasy trips to anywhere and back.

Three centuries for me to become so unhinged I go sane again.

One week after the fact for the gravity of the situation to hit me.

One century of depressed nihilism as a result.

Three thousand, five hundred twenty suicide attempts.

Nineteen thousand, four hundred sixty-seven attempts at art to express my grief and self-loathing.

One week for me to realize my exile was ending soon (relatively speaking).

Three more centuries devoted to planning your humiliation and execution.

Two thousand eighteen possible assassination plots.

Average of one hundred thirty-eight contingency plans for each one.

Twenty-seven different "perfect" training regiments.

Four new branches of magic developed, each based in dark arts.

Two thousand, eight hundred seventy-one years of injustice to avenge.

Four stars perfectly aligned, lending me their power.

One straight path, from the stars, through the moon, and back to the remains of my observatory.

Three hundred ninety-five billion, two hundred seventy million, eight hundred sixty-three thousand, one hundred twenty-nine new trees in a forest that had sprung up over the millennium.

Two villages leveled in my search for you.

Four pegasi guards on your carriage team, half of what it was when I left.

One thousand years must have made you soft, sister.

Two explosive magical bolts to bring them all down.

Two thousand feet to watch you fall.

Thirteen seconds spent clawing through the wreckage to get to you.

Six inches of penetration in your flank with my horn.

Three seconds struggling before you succumb to the toxin.

One loose invitation to tell me all I need to now about where to go next.

At least three hundred ponies screaming and losing their minds in fear.

One thousand years can't drown out the nostalgia of the moment.

Three more guards eliminated.

Six ordinary ponies seem to think they can do better.

Your ninety-second student, isn't she, sister? Will she meet the same end as all the others?

Twenty-three feet of cracks beneath Sky King's Overlook.

Less than a millimeter of expansion needed to bring it all tumbling down.

At least seventeen thousand creatures in the Everfree Forest, and guess which one I run into?

Thirty-five trees "beautified" on my way back home.

Three millennia, and it's hard to believe that old filly's trick still scares ponies!

Six seconds around that creepy sea serpent, and I can already tell how much he cares about his lousy mustache.

One little snip for a quick, easy distraction, courtesy of Fabio the Scaly.

Two more on the rope bridge to buy time.

Three loyal pegasi, long dead and gone by now, who still may be of use to me.

Ten minutes later, they're beaten, too.

Five Elemental bracelets, corroded and worthless after years of abandonment.

Five simple replacement stones to fool your apprentice.

Those five gone, only her left, a perfect setup.

A single, simple whirlwind and teleportation spell, impossible to mess up.

The two of us show up in the empty quarters of my old observatory.

One stupid move, not anticipating her teleport.

But one simple feedback spell on my dummy Elements, with a little acting, to get back the advantage.

Thirty-four fragments left of the "Elements", and one priceless look on your apprentice's face.

But five more voices coming up the stairwell, voices who were supposed to be long gone.

Five little reminders for your student about the real nature of the Elements.

A sixth Element rediscovered, one too many, and maybe those stones weren't dummies after all.

Six Elements, united and channeled by six ponies.

One combined blast of energy.

Ten seconds of pure, excruciating, total agony, a reminder of events a thousand years before.

Two minutes of writhing about on the decaying stone floor, somewhere between Nightmare Moon and Luna.

Not even three seconds as Luna, not even one chance to escape, and you're already looking at me.

Another thousand years of solitude in my future, or so I anticipate.

An unexpected offer of mercy.

A thousand years of bitterness and hatred melting away in heartbeat.

My one and only sister, enemy no longer.

An eternity of friendship restored.