Dreamwalker's Tale: An Anthology

“Help me please…!”

I was most certainly not thinking straight. I blurted those words out as soon as I heard the door’s lock click and saw the tiniest of gaps open. My anxiety had gotten the better of me. Then again, there were a bunch of reasons why I was trembling like a leaf. The gap widened and Luna came into view, already furrowing her brow… and then visibly recoiling once she saw me. “I need your advice. Please,” I tried again. Only to add another ‘please’ for good measure, even if it was said in such a tiny, meek voice that I was not sure if she had even heard it.

On the fringes of my mind, I was vaguely aware that two night guards silently watched this poor display of self-control. They flanked the door as usual, unmoving and at least superficially uncaring.

Luna, however, half-turned to take a look out of one of the chamber's windows. The curtains were drawn open, now that the night had long fallen, but there was no beautiful night sky to be seen. Thick and heavy thunderclouds hung in the sky instead, forming a blanket over the entirety of Canterlot, and a lot of the surrounding land. The downpour had been scheduled, of course. Everypony in Canterlot had known days, if not weeks in advance, to stay indoors tonight. As the sun set, the rain started. And it would not end until sunrise… in two days. The initial downpour was the strongest, and it would turn into a more steady, softer pitter-patter later on.

Thing was though — I was not from Canterlot. I had known nothing of this. And despite me shaking and trembling, being drenched to the bone and freezing, dripping water onto precious carpets, I cared little.

It fit the mood, I supposed. My mood, anyway.

After she had confirmed her presumption, Luna turned her focus back to me and hesitated only for a second or two until she stepped aside. “Come in,” she… well, at this point, her voice carried less of a friendly invitation and more of a prompt. Almost a demand.

I was relieved anyway.

So, I stepped forward and trudged my lead-laden hooves into her chamber. I had not been in here. Well, I had — in other iterations. Other lifetimes. With other Luna's. The individual pieces of décor changed every time, but the general style rarely did. Paintings, sculptures, banners, a massive bed in the middle of the room, a couple of bookshelves, a sofa… the latter being the one point in the room where she subtly led me to. With a quick trot, she vanished for a second into the bathroom next door and seemed relieved that I had enough presence of mind not to plop myself down just like that. I had instead been standing right before it, waiting. Staring at it. Swimming in a chaos of jumbled thoughts and worries and fears.

She put a bunch of towels onto the sofa, and put another one or two over my back. “Take these,” she asked, and so I did. I did not want to be impolite after all. I did not want to ruin her furniture. I had been around for a month now and with things slowing down considerably after the initial rush, I started to feel things catching up to me.

I dried myself off as best as I could before I levitated the two towels off of me and turned around. I looked for any option to dispose of them, but my mind was just… unable to focus on something so simple. “Just put them down,” she offered. And so I did. Right in front of me, on the marble tiles.

She sat down on the sofa and patted the layers of towels a little distance away from her. I climbed up, sat down, and still shivered. Because running through Canterlot had somehow only helped the rain’s cold to seep deeper into my body. Because exhaustion started to catch up. Because I still worried. A lot.

She knew. Or maybe she was just good at guessing. Reading a room, or a pony. Honesty, loyalty, laughter. “Wait here,” she asked, and got up again. She vanished out of her chamber doors this time, so I would have to wait for… a longer time. Minutes, probably. I had come here in hopes of getting help. I could have talked to Twilight, of course. Well actually, I did. It just did not help much. Despite her best efforts, she could not help much.

So I had taken the last train to Canterlot. I knew Luna and tried not to. I tried not to rely on knowledge I had not gathered myself. Not in this life, anyway. I tried to restrain myself. Luna was ‘new’. We had interacted on a couple of occasions and she had been very generous with me, but I was not even sure if I could call her a friend already, at this early stage of our acquaintanceship.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't even notice time trickling by until she returned. The click of the closing door startled me a little as I felt all the enchantments protecting this room and its privacy fall into place again. I looked up and I must have looked quite spooked.

“We art sorry. We didst not mean to startle thee.” I blinked. Stared at her with a vast emptiness in my eyes, while my mind sluggishly translated. And then I felt myself nod once.

She came back to the sofa and hoofed me a cup. Steam rose from it, and right now, the promised warmth attracted me more than the smell of hot, liquid chocolate. I took the offered cup in my levitation and soon enough cradled it in my hooves. It burned. Maybe because I was still so cold. Maybe because the cup was so hot. Probably both.

Despite the allure the heat had, I still could not focus. My eyes drifted here and there, passively, almost dismissively absorbing all the little details about her chamber’s interior. And I could not help but notice how I kept avoiding eye contact with her, despite feeling her watching me.

There was a tension in the air that grew more noticeable as time went on. I had barged in here in the middle of the night, drenched and trembling, asking for help, and now, I just sat here. Caressed a cup and stared at everything and nothing.

I had come here, expecting Luna. But maybe, I had expected my Luna. That was decidedly unfair to her. But it also meant that I would not get what I came for. Not until I made sure that there was at least something to base these hopes off on. “Are—” I tried and noticed how quiet and hoarse my voice was. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Sorry. A-Are we friends?”

Surely not the question she had expected. She mulled it over for a moment before quietly sighing. “We art unsure of the answer. However, we wouldst liketh to beest friends with thee.”

“R-Right. Could we—… could you maybe—… uhm…” You’re not getting anywhere this way. Just blurt it out and let her do the sorting. She’ll understand. “Language?”

It took her less time to understand what I meant than it had taken me to psych myself up enough to utter a single, very impolite word. “We—I shall try to keep this in mind.”

“Thank you.” I stared into my hot chocolate again, as if the lazily swirling brown could answer me anything. She was not certain if we were friends already. But she wanted to be friends, and I wanted that as well. So was there anything stopping us? Well, yes — and no. The decision to become friends was one easily made at any point in time. But it took more than that to be friends. Time. Knowledge. Familiarity. Trust.

“I plundered my dear sister’s less-secret-than-she-thinks-it-is-stash, so I am quite certain it shan’t be poisonous,” Luna joked.

It took me a moment to realize that she was talking about the chocolate, but I admitted that smile tugging at my lips as soon as the impulse was there. “She’ll get you back for this, then,” I concluded and actually took a sip. The sugary sweetness coated my entire mouth within seconds. It was still quite hot, but not as scalding anymore. The first gulp brought a welcome warmth down my throat and into my guts. It felt like relighting a crucial fire.

“She will try,” Luna retorted with a smug grin.

I had enough memories of the epic proportions their ongoing prank wars could take on to steer clear of any and all involvement in that. It would not work forever, but I could certainly try.

“Thank you.” The fact that I had not thanked her yet had been a sudden revelation. And a reason for a bad conscience spike. And maybe, it was not just gratitude for the cup.

Another shiver ran down my spine and disturbed the surface of my drink as an offshoot made my leg tremble as well. I grimaced and looked up, looked over to her. Many of the memories of past lives voiced their ‘council’. Told me of intimacy I had decided not to pursue. Told me of safety and comfort I was not meant to get. But tonight, my will was weak. And maybe, giving in would not be as bad if I did it in a controlled manner? “Could… c-could I—…?” I asked. I asked without asking. I hoped. Tried to imply what I wanted. And judging by her slowly raising eyebrow, she at least acknowledged that I did not want to say something. That I did not want to finish the question myself. And despite my miserable appearance, she was not about to let me get away with that.

She’s not Twilight, I somehow had to remind myself. Trust her.

I scraped together all the courage I could muster and finished my question. “Could I maybe… come closer?”

She initially just tilted her head a little and regarded me for a minute or so. I felt strangely naked at that time and oh, what I would have given to see into her head. Whatever was going on in there, she finished it up and a small smile graced her lips. “You may.” And just like that, she opened her arms.

I tried to just scooch over. But I quickly realized that things would not be quite that easy. The first two layers of towels had absorbed most of the water, so I discarded them onto the pile on the floor, took the rest of the towels closer to her and sat down on them again. I carefully, almost cautiously, leaned against Luna. She slowly closed her embrace.

I was still cold. I could feel it, now more clearly than before, as I had her body heat for comparison. A moment of hesitation later, and she extended her wings, brought them to the front and closed me in even further. I dared to press into her and for just a second, another shiver made me tremble. This felt good in a worrying way. Familiar. So many memories tried to bubble to the surface, vying for my attention. But I refused. I denied. I tried to keep my attention here, at this moment, with her. It was hard to do so, as every breath, every inhale, carried her scent. Her very, very familiar scent. Brisk night winds, fresh rainfall, cold clouds. I half-buried my muzzle on her chest and dared to let go.

An entire day of buildup came crashing down in waves. Minutes passed and each time I thought I had made it through, another wave of trembles made me hug her tightly. It took a while to calm down. And even then, I wanted to stay here. Stay like this. Be this close to her again, now and forevermore. But I knew better. It was not meant to be.

I slowly pulled away from her, despite everything in me screaming to remain where I was. She understood, opened her cocoon and folded her wings back again, releasing me from her embrace. “Feeling better?” she asked. She obviously cared. A lot. Yet despite that, I could not help but smile at the almost pragmatic undertone in her voice.

“I am. I think. Thank you!” By now, I assumed the sofa should be safe as most of the moisture had either been absorbed by the towels or dried off or now clung to Luna. Heh. I discarded the rest of the towels, as sitting on those was not exactly the most comfortable experience, and put a bit more distance between us. Enough to look at each other while talking.

She nodded, and her smile grew into a grin. I knew what she was trying to do before she even attempted it. Just because all of my memories made it quite clear: Luna, being Luna, would try to lighten the mood a little by making some random comment or joke. “So is this a good time now to ask about your mane?” she started. “Did dear Cadance get to you after all?”

I involuntarily reached with a hoof for my head, but held it halfway there with a conscious effort before dropping it again. After all, I knew perfectly well what she was talking about. “No. No, as far as I’m aware, she’s back in the Crystal Empire. She, uh… she made her point quite clear that day. She sure did shout loud enough. I hadn’t even known that Sunny had taught her the Royal Canterlot Voice.”

“It’s a necessity for all princesses,” Luna replied with a grin.

“Right. Yeah, well… I don’t know. It was a… hectic day. I was fleeing and she was yelling and Shining tried to calm her down and Twilight looked really torn, it was a mess. My continued meddling in her domain had apparently given her two straight weeks of migraine, or something. Maybe she was just exaggerating. I don’t know. I don’t understand her magic enough.” The Princess of Love was easy-going on most days. Quite affable. Really kind. Usually. But even after sorting through all my fractured memories of past iterations, it appeared that I had not been able to actually get her once. Not even once. We were acquainted. We were friendly with each other. Respectful. Helpful. A lot of things. But we were never truly close. Ever.

“Did you really throw Granny Smith at her?” Luna asked curiously.

I was shocked, to say the least. “What? No! No, heaven’s no, why would I ever do that?! Did Twilight tell you that?” And then I noticed that barely hidden smirk on her face and I could only do so much to keep myself from smacking my own forehead with a hoof. She was joking. And now that she saw me catching up, she allowed herself a satisfied giggle, which quickly grew into snickers and laughter. “You are awful,” I tried to reprimand her, but her laughter was just… it was refreshing. It was unbridled and honest and so infectious. So I chimed in eventually.

Once we had calmed down again, I felt… better. Less cold, less miserable, less hopeless and desperate. There were several voices in my head telling me to lean in and kiss her, just as a ‘thank you’, and that thought really weirded me out. I understood where it came from, of course. I had been married to Luna. For years. Many times. But still, just two weeks ago, I had made it perfectly clear to her — and myself, I had hoped — that it would not happen this time. At least, not now anyway. Or anytime soon, for that matter.

But that was just the issue at hoof with these memories. They were not ‘sentient’ in any way, shape or form. They just… were. They existed and influenced what I did and said and how I perceived things. Sometimes more directly than on other occasions.

I sighed. And finally noticed that Luna had stopped laughing as well and that she was once again watching me. And she seemed to be waiting, and despite my attempts to lie to myself, I knew perfectly well what she was waiting for. I still had not answered her question. Maybe this would have been a decent opportunity to let her taste her own medicine. Why should I answer a question she only implied, when she refused to do so?

But that was not how things worked between us. We were different ponies. Working in different ways. I cast my eyes down, as I did not feel like answering would get any easier while looking at her. “I shaved it off in a panic,” I told her. She remained silent. And I dared not to look up just yet. So I continued with a weak attempt at distraction. “But don’t worry. Rarity apparently has the uncanny ability to lose her mane or tail. Twilight knows a spell to grow it back. She knows it by heart by now.” I chuckled quietly, but the artificial sound soon died down. It just… it was not the same as honest laughter. “She offered to cast it as soon as I returned.”

“So she knows what is going on then,” Luna concluded.

“Y-Yes… I… tried to talk to her,” I admitted. “But it wasn’t… it didn’t… work. She’s not… this isn’t her expertise. It’s yours. And she was the one who convinced me to come here.”

“My expertise?” Luna echoed in surprise, now truly intrigued by whatever issue I had managed to stir up this time.

And that was it. That was the point where I had to make a decision. The point of no return. Either I would tell her. Open up to Luna, trust in her and try to get her help. Whatever shape that help might take. Or.

Or.

I could still backpedal. I could still make up some stupid and obvious excuse. She would let me. She would let me tell lies to her face and she would let me go. I could sleep in a guest room and take the first train home tomorrow. I could crawl back to Twilight, maybe lie to her as well about the issue being solved if she asked, and I could try to bury this entire thing. Because at the end of the day, there was a good chance that I made too much noise for nothing. That I was just freaking out, that I was blowing things out of proportions. What would ponies think if I kept doing that? It was a horribly offensive thought, but it was there nonetheless: Would I end up like Rarity?

I loved Rarity. As a friend, of course. I was quite amused by the thought of us being lovers, because I assumed it would take less than a day before we tried to strangle each other. But I loved her as a friend. I cherished our friendship, young as it was. But she was the drama queen. If she proclaimed something ‘the worst thing’ or the end of the world, it was probably a dye missing. Or a roll of fabric being almost empty. Or maybe Sweetie Belle’s next attempt at cooking. Then again, the latter had already proven to actually be quite dangerous.

I feared that image in my head. The point where I said something, and ponies just… smiled. Or shrugged. Or tried to belittle me, consciously or otherwise. Because for Rarity, these dramatics were fun. They were a choice. A lifestyle.

For me, they were horror. The culmination of bottomless fears.

And I had so many of those.

“Talk to me. Please.” Luna’s voice cut through my anxiety like a hot knife through butter.

I had not noticed said anxiety building up again. I had not noticed how I fidgeted with my hooves. I levitated the almost empty cup to the small table nearby, just for safety reasons, and dared to look at her. There was a silent plea in her eyes. A promise, too. You can trust me. And I wanted to. I wanted to trust her so badly. But trust was difficult. Sometimes, anyway. For me, anyway.

It took a lot of effort on my part. But I tried. I did that a lot. And I succeeded.

“I had a nightmare.” And with that single statement, the gate was cracked open. Not thrown off its hinges, not thrown wide open to march through, no. But it had a gap. It was a sufficient start. “I… this isn’t about accusations,” I quickly added. “You can’t be everywhere and help everypony, I know that. And you can’t play favorites either. There are just too many dreamers. I know. It’s about… the dream, it just…”

My mind threatened to get jumbled once more, and it probably would have. But Luna laid her hoof on my shoulder, and once I looked her in the eyes, I could see nothing but sincerity and willingness to help. It soothed my fraying nerves. “Take your time,” she told me. “And tell me about this nightmare.”

We were in Ponyville, walking alongside each other. Without her regalia, she was just Celestia. Just another mare taking a stroll with her special somepony. Ponyville’s inhabitants were a weird bunch, in a way. I supposed that everyone thought that about those living in his hometown. These ponies surrounding us were friends. Friends of mine, friends of the crown, friends of Celestia, friends to each other. With so much green all around us, so many colorful coats, the brightest blue above, white tufts of clouds, it was such a vivid scene, such a lovely day.

It was beautiful.

As was she. I could barely stop long enough to keep our route in mind on the odd occasion before falling back into that habit of just… admiring her. Appreciating her. And truly, it was not about her form either.

Rare was the occasion that she managed to get a day off. To get enough time for herself to actually come here and just take a walk with me. I felt warm, due to her sun, and herself. I felt secure, just by being close to her. I felt her love, as much as mine. Her smile was genuine, her admiration of this town and the ponies living in it was obvious.

And all the ponies around us reveled in her presence as much as I did. They, too, loved her. In different ways than I did, of course. But their love for her seemed just as boundless.

“I did good,” she said, taking in what she saw.

“You did,” I agreed. And just like that, her smile seemed to grow even brighter. The warmth she radiated even more intense. Not uncomfortable. Never that. But now, it seemed to reach even the darkest corners of each and every heart around her. Her light soothed all fears, her presence diminished all worries. Equestria would be a better place, for she willed it so.

Yet as we continued to stroll along the streets of my beloved hometown, I started to notice the change. “Is everything alright, love?”

“Everything is fine,” she reassured me.

And yet her light dimmed. The sun shone with undiminished splendor, and she radiated the same light and warmth and security she had before, but her own light dimmed. Little by little. Such tiny portions draining away that it was almost imperceptible. Almost unnoticeable.

Almost.

“Are you okay, love?” I asked. I wanted to feel worried. I wanted to feel concerned. But she would not let me. Her smile remained the same. Her warmth radiated off of her in waves of joy and gratefulness.

“I am,” she insisted. I knew she believed what she said. I knew she was honest with me. But I saw her give everything. Everything. And I saw all these ponies around us smiling. Grateful for her light, and her guidance, and her presence. Leeching off of her. And I felt myself smile despite what I saw. And I took what she selflessly offered. And I could not stop taking.

And then she fell. Just like that, she collapsed to the ground and I quickly rushed to her side. Many other ponies gathered around us in a crowd. None were concerned. None were worried. No smile ever faltered. Not even my own.

“Keep something!” I asked her. “Please, love! Keep something for yourself!”

Once upon a time, a star was born in a cosmic event. It shone so bright and hot, so full of potential. And she embodied this star. She was spending life. She was carefully guiding it. She nurtured all of us. Kept us safe. Thriving.

But not a star I held in my hooves now, but a flickering candle. And my heart raced with the thought that a strong breath or the faintest breeze could snuff my love out. Yet I could not stop smiling, even though I wanted to cry. And I could not worry, even though I wanted to despair.

“Keep something!” I yelled at her. I tried. I tried so hard to shove back what she offered. I tried to push into her what she so effortlessly pushed into me. I tried to reverse the flow of what seemed so natural and felt so wrong.

But my love smiled. And her smile never dimmed, even as her light did. She turned her head to look up to me. There was no sadness in her eyes. Just… gratefulness. “This is good,” she stated.

And that breeze I had feared came by.

And that candle I cradled bore no flame any longer.

And my love was gone.

With her light gone, I started to weep. I cried to the heavens for mercy, but none was shown, as no one listened. I despaired as I had wished. And I felt my mind on the brink of collapse. It was that very moment when it showed up. Perfectly chosen timing. It wore my face like a mask. It wore my coat’s color like paint. But there was nothing familiar in its eyes.

“You could have saved her, you know?” it led me to believe.

“How?” I cried.

“You could still save her, actually,” it pondered, regarding my love with some thought. “Or rather, we could.”

“How!” I demanded to know.

And it smiled. Like the wolf that had managed to coax the rabbit out of its burrow, it smiled. “I can help you.” And with that, it offered me its hoof. To help me stand up. To shake in agreement.

To make a deal.

My gaze dropped back down to my love. I still cradled her form. Still, my hoof was running through her mane, now limp and dull instead of her ethereal self. It hurt so much. And I wanted her back so badly. Would I not attempt the impossible for her? Was I not willing to fall for her, in any way required? I had read my fair share of romance novels. I preferred the happy endings and loathed the tragedies. But I had read those as well. Some, at least. And had I not found myself in some of these characters, protagonists and side characters alike? All those tales warning of the dangers of love. How loving too much could destroy a pony. And much more than just that one pony. How love could destroy nations. Worlds. Timelines. If pursued without restraint, love was a force capable of utter annihilation.

Had I not always suspected, even feared, I might be capable of such? I might at least be willing to attempt as much?

I carefully lowered her head down to the ground, before I bent over and kissed her cheek. “I can’t stay without you, love,” I whispered to her. It hurt. It just hurt too much. I asked for her forgiveness before the sin was even committed. “I will come back to you, one way or the other.”

It had waited. That smug grin still plastered all over its face, as it witnessed my farewell. I rose and turned to it, determination forming in my stomach, steeling my nerves. It knew what I wanted. Words were in vain. I took its offered hoof, and felt a rush of power I had not known before. It was dizzying. I reeled from the surge, but it kept me upright. And its smile widened.

It was that smile that gave me pause. I dared look at our hooves, now joined, connected by tendrils of black magic and tar-like liquid. It seeped into me. It crawled along my coat, on the outside… and the inside. I saw it color my veins. I felt it flow in my blood.

And I started to realize what a grave mistake I was about to commit. “No,” I whispered, and tried to pull away. “No, this is wrong,” I realized.

And with the realization came another revelation. This, I started to see, was a dream. But the creature in front of me was not part of it.

“Begone!” I yelled and used my free hoof to stomp onto the ground. The very fabric of the dream shook and rippled and the creature’s entire demeanor changed. I saw its anger and hatred and greed and that tiny sliver of fear. Fear of losing what it was about to achieve. Fear of being repelled so close to its goal. And I knew what I had to do. I raised my hoof, and as it was about to protest, or maybe lure me in with promises, I smashed my hoof down not with the power my body provided, but with that of my will.

And the dream collapsed.

“At that point, I woke up with a scream,” I admitted meekly. “Twilight came in and I just… I don’t know… I asked her to stay, only to immediately rush out myself. I went to the bathroom and puked my soul out and once I tried to wash out my mouth, I saw that my mane had gone all… wavy and… ethereal. So… I panicked, which, you know… still seems very reasonable in response to something like that… and I just shaved it off. I returned to Twilight and she was… uhm… just as appalled as you were. I spilled the entire story and we tried to work through it and I think that might have actually helped in ways, but… I mean… I tried to forget about it. Just a dream and all that. She threw a bunch of spells on me just to check for any piggybacking sentience or evil magic influence or anything and found none. And we talked half the day away and she’s now really behind on her studies because of me and Spike even tried and—“

I shut up the moment Luna once again laid her hoof on my shoulder. My breathing hitched. I closed my eyes and repeated my serenity prayer in a mumble. “Celestia, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” In my head, I put it on record, repeating it once or twice before opening my eyes again. And just as I had hoped, I felt calmer than before. Not ‘calm’, per se. But calmer.

“Sorry. I… I freak out easily. Guess you would have found that out on your own soon enough,” I tried to joke, but Luna just smiled.

“I already suspected as much,” she replied with a smile of her own. “You seem to share some traits with both fair Fluttershy and Twilight herself. I know such behavior from both.”

Well. Good point. I sighed. “I think I managed to lay a decent groundwork with Twilight today. We sorted a lot of stuff out. Right now, I suspect that nightmare is your primary concern, but I came here with a question and to be honest, that thing is just an afterthought to me right now.”

She was not exactly thrilled to hear that. After all, the creature had almost roped me into something dangerous. A nightmare could not leave the dreamscape just by dealing with a dreamer. If it would be that easy, the world would be constantly swarmed by these beings. But, a dreamer giving up control could, in a worst case scenario, be directed like a remote-controlled puppet. It would look like a sleepwalker to other ponies.

Most nightmares had a hard time keeping that ball rolling. Some quickly lost interest in that new world. Mostly due to its rigid nature. Everything was bound in some way. Air could not become lava. Wings could not cast spells. Breathing could not be disabled just because one wished to stop. The waking world was different in many ways and most of these differences were unknown to the inhabitants of the dreamscape.

Even more nightmares simply lost control of the dreamer. Only a few nightmares were ever strong enough to not require the dreamer’s willingness. And those rarely bothered with the waking world to begin with. But the rest needed that willingness to be there, and to stay intact. Due to how a mind creates dreams, however, they often found it difficult to keep a dreamer in this state while simultaneously ‘adventuring’ in the waking world. In addition, due to the frequently negative nature of nightmares, it was rather common for dreamers to realize this and fight the nightmare, at which point it would usually lose control as well.

All in all, it just meant that I was pretty sure that this was no actual threat. But I had been wrong before, and quite careless before. I could understand her concern about this.

“I cannot wait for your training to begin,” Luna said quietly, more directed at herself than me. “There will be a lot I have to teach you. But for now, I trust in Twilight's assessment. State your question then.”

I gave her a grateful smile before nodding. “Right. So… it’s been more than two weeks since we dealt with that farmer. I will admit that I was not with Sunny as much as I would want to, given her duties and her residence in Canterlot, but… I tried to keep an eye open whenever we were together. A-And I… I don’t know… it’s hard to tell? I wasn’t exactly expecting miracles, but I was expecting… well, something. Anything. But as far as I can tell, nothing seems to have changed. And I’m just… it has me worried, Luna. When I came here, to Canterlot, to meet with her and you helped me get into her study for the first time, that was right after and I did not expect anything noticeable. And that expectation was met, I guess? But the days after… I just… you’re around her a lot more. You’re her sister. And you’re the Keeper of Dreams. I thought that… if anypony would know for sure, it would be you, right? I promised Celestia that I was not with her just because she was hurt. And I stand by that. But I want to help her, and I need to know if we were successful. Did defeating that farmer change anything?”

I could see that small smile she tried to keep hidden. It spoke of relief. And that in turn put my mind at ease. At least a little bit more than it was before. Maybe the answer was good. Or easy. Or both. In the end, she mulled things over before starting with a sizable preamble. “The Elements of Harmony choose a bearer not to instill their virtue in them, but because of an already existing resonance,” she explained. “Rainbow Dash is the Element of Loyalty because she is loyal. Not the other way around. That does of course not mean that she cannot go against her element. She could abandon others if she so chooses. But that would be against her nature. Hers, not that of the Element. In time, if done in a grave way or often enough, her nature would adapt. And the Element would lose its connection with her. As far as I am aware, this has not happened so far, so I can only suspect the Element would choose a new bearer at that point.” I nodded, just to make clear that I was still attentive. “I say that, because I once bore the Element of Honesty. Quite frankly, even with more than enough practice, I still struggle when I need to lie. It feels uncomfortable, I rarely see the long-term use in it and despite my creative nature, I lack the necessary imagination for it. I am well capable of lying to others and convincing them of my words if it is actually necessary, but those lies break down as soon as it comes to my sister. She knows me best of course, and the longest. She would see through any and all attempts to deceive her. Maybe she would let it go anyway, just to give me privacy. But she would know. And in time, I assume, she would start to dig. She wants me to be happy as much as I want her to be happy. And I explain this to make clear why I am so hesitant to enter my sister’s dreams.”

It was a perspective I had not considered up to that point. Whatever Luna might witness in there — if it was disturbing her enough, worrying her enough, Celestia would know as soon as the next shared meal came around. And being the accomplished diplomat that she was, she could run rhetorical circles around her sister. If she wanted to know, she would. Luna could obviously refuse to tell her, but at that point, it could be seen as an invitation to just further escalate things, bringing divination magic and whatnot into the mix.

“I have done so in the past weeks,” she continued and thereby nullified my growing worries. “But I have to overcome my own insecurities and concerns every time I do. Before we continue, I must ask that you keep private whatever we shall discuss, even though this should be obvious. And I must ask if you have entered my sister’s dreams.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my mouth shut,” I promised her and made the appropriate motions for a Pinkie Promise. Which only seemed to confuse her, but that mattered little to me. “And I haven’t entered her dreams, per se, but… I’ve seen them. Maybe it was the farmer’s influence, I don’t know. But when I touched her dream, I saw them. I saw her in a large hall, dealing with affairs of the state, and later on…” My throat threatened to clench shut. “She was singing. On a balcony. To… you.” I could see that Luna had to fight with her emotions as well. So apparently, we had both seen the same thing. Which meant that the dream continued. And that was a horrifying revelation. One that made no sense given her prior relieved smile. “How is that possible?” I dared to ask.

Luna sighed deeply. “We all have our routines, do we not? The way you put your toothbrush down. The way you fold your emptied milk carton. The way you cut your vegetables when cooking. Small things, daily routines you rarely if ever think about. Both body and mind are adaptable. They both try to make life easier on themselves. A body that is constantly hurt again and again will develop a higher pain tolerance. A mind that is living a comfortable life will develop routines to expend fewer active thoughts on miniscule details. It’s about preserving resources, about efficiency. Now, it might appear as a massive leap, but trust me, it is not, when I say: The same mechanics work for torture. It might sound cruel to say so, but over time, if subjected to it enough, both body and mind will try to find ways to adapt to it.” I did not like the direction this was going in. She could probably see it, the way I started to subtly shift around and fidget with my hooves again. So, she decided to cut the tangent shorter than she had planned. And I was very grateful for that. “My sister has grieved my loss for two-hundred years. A fresh wound in her mind, bleeding and hurting. Once you deal with bodies that are as durable as ours, and minds that are as old as ours, you start to think in different time spans. Given the right circumstances, years can seem so fleetingly short. For two hundred years, all manner of dreamscape creatures fought over her dream, I presume. Until one emerged victorious. And from that day forth, he had supreme reign over my sister’s nightmares. Farmers tend to be cunning and patient. It learned from what it witnessed. It adapted as well. It learned a lot about her. What hurt her, and how much, and what kind of pain it brought forth. With time, it twisted and adjusted her nightmares, filtered out what was less efficient, until it had formed the one nightmare that was most efficient for its purpose. From that point forth, there was little sense in further developing it. The potential improvement was not worth the investment. It stagnated, and was just content with feasting and growing. And her mind adapted.”

Luna raised her head and stared at the ceiling. Something I sometimes did when I teared up but did not want those tears to spill. I did not question it. I instead silently waited until her focus returned to me. “I know that it is difficult, if not impossible, to imagine this. To imagine how the worst nightmare you ever had would become your daily companion for each and every night, for weeks, years, centuries. It would become a part of you, as much as the way you lay down your toothbrush, or the way you cut your vegetables. The farmer might be gone, but her mind will take time to realize that. To adapt to these new conditions. To its regained freedom. I can assure you that I am trying my best to help that process along. I guide the dream, but I do not stop it. It would do nothing. She needs to sleep, and right now, her mind only knows one dream, only ever dares one dream. If I would stop it without waking her up, she would just restart it. But I can make subtle changes. Subtle enough for her mind not to be disrupted. For her dream not to question its internal logic and restart. You are right – she sings to me. Each and every night, in her dreams. And I dared to answer her a couple of nights ago, even if I had to do it in character.”

“In character? You mean—” I grimaced. Hard. “You answered her as Nightmare Moon?”

She sighed. “I did. I cursed her name and wished ill upon her. I spat on our sisterhood and cried for her blood in madness.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It was. For me anyway.”

I took a moment to look at her. She had said she had done this a couple of days ago. Which meant that it was not a daily recurrence. Maybe the dream would notice that? Could this deviation be too much, too fast? Or maybe she hurt herself every time she did this, and was trying to minimize her own pain as well? As much as I thought about this, the result stayed the same: Right now, I had to trust in Luna’s judgment. “So you’re telling me she was fine with this?”

“Well, ‘fine’ might be a little bit much,” Luna conceded. “But despite my harsh words and the hatred in my voice, she smiled. We had fought, Dreamwalker. We had fought like no family should ever fight. She tried to stop me, but I… I tried to murder her. I tried to end the life of my own sister. And we both know that. Even in her dream, she knows that. Trying to put a veil over this would be one step too far. But for a thousand years, she had suffered the loss of a loved one. She had suffered loneliness like few other ponies will ever know. That she is still here, sane and loving and willing to prank me on occasion, is a testament to the immeasurable willpower she had. What I relieved her of in that dream was that loneliness. Yes, she had to suffer insults. But she could hear my voice. Yes, I wished her dead. But we were sisters once more. I do not know which night exactly it is that this dream stemmed from. I suspect one of the early ones. Either way, it must have been a crucial one. The farmer would not have chosen this specific memory to base the nightmare upon were it otherwise. And in that crucial night of her life, where she suffered loneliness the worst, I can make subtle arrangements to ease that. I can be there for her and—“

This time, I did not hesitate. She stopped herself in a futile attempt to recompose herself. And as soon as her failure became apparent, I scooched closer and offered to her what she in her kindness had offered me before. Given our size differences, I was less embracing her and holding her than she was just grabbing me like a pillow. But I did not mind, as long as it helped. I heard a couple of stifled sobs before she regained control, and a minute or two might have passed before she let go of me again. “Thank you,” she whispered.

I sat down a little distance away again and smiled, ignoring the damp patches on my shoulder. “Anytime, Lu.” For a fraction of a second, she blinked in surprise before a mixture of a sob and a laugh escaped her throat. “What’s so funny?” I asked in mild confusion.

But she shook her head and smiled. “I might tell you another time. Let us stay on topic. You want to know if the farmer’s defeat changed anything, and I tried to answer you. With that creature still being there, I could not do anything at all. I could not try to patiently and carefully steer her mind away from that night. And you are right — I do know my sister better than you most likely ever will. I have seen changes, yes. They are subtle. Very, very subtle. But I have seen them. The main issue is that this conditioning of her mind will take time to relent. It will not just disappear with a whip of our horns, or a stomp of our hooves. I cannot tell you how long this process might take. It will not be a flashy event one could count down to. It will be gradual. Maybe neither you, nor even I, will notice it fully as days pass by. But one day, we will most likely think about this again, this very night and this very conversation, and we will think about her, and we will realize how much has changed and how far she has come.”

It was a worrisome realization. There were a lot of ‘maybe’s in there. And an immortal being spoke of ‘requiring patience’. “Luna…?” I quietly asked.

“Yes, Dreamwalker?”

“What do I do now?”

The question lingered in the air far longer than I would have liked. We both understood the dilemma perfectly well. But there was no clear-cut solution to be found and neither of us wanted to voice that for some time. Luna finally broke the silence before it grew even more oppressive. “You will not like the answer,” she stated.

I felt what little hope I had left flee in all directions. Her previous explanations had made it perfectly clear already, but I had insisted on hoping despite its hopelessness. Until no straw was left to cling to. And she had the thankless task of cutting that last one. I had forced it upon her. Least I could do was try to carry that burden with her. “There’s nothing I can do,” I concluded, barely audible.

“There is nothing you can do,” she confirmed with a little delay. “Nothing you are not doing already. This is a very old and very deep wound we have to deal with. Be patient. Be prepared for relapses. Be with her, and be there for her. Spend time with her. I know for a fact that she seems quite smitten with you, as she cannot seem to shut up about you at breakfast.” A grin graced her lips as she spoke, but soon returned to a warm smile. “She clearly harbors deep feelings for you and you seem to love her just as much. I think it is a good sign already that she was willing to pursue her feelings at all. She has deprived herself of company for far too long. So you will continue to show her a good time and I will continue to guide her dreams, and in a few years we shall hopefully have this conversation again, and talk about all the ways things have improved.”

My hope was gone. That hope of coming here and receiving advice from her that was easy to follow up on. A step-by-step to-do-list. Or even better, an easy answer, given in a way that even I could not doubt it. Did defeating the farmer do anything? Oh, yes, she is absolutely fine now.

Right.

But.

Luna had given me a new hope. Maybe I had been expecting too much. Both from her advice, and from this monumental defeat. Because a flashy defeat of a major threat should always come hoof in hoof with immediate reward or improvement, right? Defeating Chrysalis had fixed an entire invasion. Defeating Discord had fixed all the chaos across the land. How had defeating this farmer not fixed Celestia?

Because things were not always that easy. Or straightforward. But she would be fine. Someday, that wound would be fully healed. It would probably leave a scar to be remembered by. Because even for an immortal being, I could not imagine eight hundred years of nightmares being forgotten. Ever.

But one day, she would be fine again.

And maybe I would be there by her side that day. We all would be. And we would radiate so much warmth and care and love that she would never run out, ever.

I liked my happy endings. Even if I had to work for them.