Princess Luna stood before the assembled nobility for the first time in centuries. Not a single face was familiar, though a few of the banners hung in welcome for the heads of houses bore familiar heraldry.
Her sister stood before her, addressing the crowd and warming them up, telling them that the curse had been lifted and painting Luna as the victim, with some success. Celestia’s natural affinity for this sort of thing won her much admiration, including Luna’s own before the advent of the nightmare twisted it into jealousy.
With the introduction out of the way, Celestia stepped off the dais, leaving nothing between Luna and her subjects but the layers of her dress. Before she did however, Celestia gave her dear sister a courteous—and embarrassing—kiss on the neck that seemed to linger a bit too long, then leaned in as though to whisper something in her ear (which is how it was intended to appear to the assembly,) only to nibble on it teasingly instead, forcing out a short gasp that she hoped no-pony noticed.
Luna’s face was flushed when she stepped forward, hoping that the heat from the braziers would provide testimony enough. As she approached the edge of the dais, the ponies in the front reflexively backed away, and thought it was but a subtle shift, the message was clear: they were still afraid. She hadn’t expected this to be easy, but now that it had begun she began to question if it were even possible.
She attempted to keep her volume down when speaking, her expression calm and measured, yet even still the crowd would flinch at the occasional stressed syllable. Soon her frustration began to bleed into her voice and she felt a peculiar sensation on her neck, like the ghost of her sister’s lips. A moment later her kerchief suddenly faded into a glittering coruscation and was gone, exposing her impressive cleavage in its absence.
She stumbled in her delivery—confounded as she was—and managed to raise more than a few eyebrows, no where more so than in the foremost row, which was near enough to have witnessed the disappearance as it happened, and to have taken note of the gap it left in her bodice.
Glancing briefly to the right, her sister was nowhere to be found. Nevertheless, she suspected it was her meddling that did away with the garment, though she could only guess at her motive.
It wasn’t long before she found her stride again, winning favor by calling out the house names she could remember, and some ire from the ones she knew not. She allowed herself a glance now and again at the balconies where the foreign diplomats sat and felt some pain to witness their looks of disgust.
After an awkward pause she started once more, but her previous vigor had begun to fade. With impeccable timing the odd light claimed another victim, this time her entire gown, leaving her with only her stays and petticoats to mask her skivvies.
There was an audible gasp from the audience, with nearly every-pony taking notice this time. The dark-blue velvet had given way to stark, un-dyed muslin. Though stunned into silence, Luna glanced around frantically, noting in the back of her mind the lack of disdainful stares.
Still, the worst had yet to come. By then her voice had become soft and uncertain, though she could still be heard in the echoing chamber. Where much of the audience had decided beforehand to disregard her apology, she now had their curiosity, and their attention. By the end, she would have their sympathies as well.
Her petticoats were next to go, baring her stockinged legs, and the garters followed soon after, dropping her socks unevenly just below and above the knees. Then the lacings of her bodice magically came undone, releasing her bust from constraint with which came an unfortunately sensual sigh of relief. It wasn’t long before she was presented to the assembly in the bare minimum, her cheeks flushed and her tail clamped firmly between her legs.
As per her sister’s instruction, Luna had worked with the first tailor, a one Miss Rarity, to produce some fashionable undergarments which, though pretty, were somewhat more constricting than the chemise and drawers she was accustomed to. At first she had questioned the purpose of style when designing an article that is not meant to be seen, but by now she understood what her elder sister had in mind.
The crowd that had cowered before her now drew close, and she, for the first time since nightmare’s end, felt vulnerable and disarmed. She resumed her address, her voice somewhat higher than before.
The lacy lingerie was the final barrier between the eyes of the assembly and her naked form, and when that too was taken she broke form, clasping her cunt with one hand and shielding her nipples with her arm.
There were murmurs amongst the onlookers, many of which had begun to crowd the stage while a precious few politely averted their eyes. In the balcony opposite the dais, Luna saw her sister standing unnoticed behind the griffon representative, glued to his binoculars. She gave a silent wave, grinning at her naked little sister and evidently proud of her own artifice.
Luna stiffened up, unfurling her wings and folding them about her chest. Her hands she laid one over the other before her crotch. Whatever the method, it seemed the gentry were no longer afraid. The curse of Nightmare Moon had been stripped away, leaving only Princess Luna, meek and humiliated. With great effort she choked out the last of her apology speech before attempting a curtsy without a skirt, and the audience responded with applause.
It was more than she dared hope for, and tears welled in her eyes. Yet, though she no longer bore their ire she feared she may have lost their respect, and for that her sister could not be forgiven so easily. She left the dais, bewildered.
Author's Note
Another thing I wrote rather recently, and quickly. The cover art took longer than the story. I still have a lot to learn when it comes to illustration, and making covers for my stories helps motivate me to practice. 
