She would be beloved.
Nightmare Moon, queen of the night and soon all of Equestria, stood facing her solar counterpart, Princess Celestia. She recalled not when the fight had started, nor how many weeks or months it had been since she had moved on from being the meek and pathetic Princess Luna; she only recalled Celestia’s first look of horror at her transformation, and the delight of fear over dismissal; she only recalled the ponies staying awake at night for once, as their village burned around them. She felt the delight of having felt no sunlight in oh so long. Soon, she would never feel it again.
Their surroundings were unimportant, her darkness obscured them and Celestia’s light outshone everything else anyway. The living nightmare couldn’t see the tears running down her sister’s face, but could hear them in her voice, and refused to understand her words. She was certain she could strike the fatal blow, and lunged at her sister, horn down, to stab at her.
Then the Elements of Harmony hit her, and the colours of the rainbow swirled around her until all she could see was black.
Was she blinded? No, small points of light were noticed as her vision focussed itself. They were her stars; it was her night, and not her night. She realized she could no longer breathe, not that she needed air in her lungs. She rolled over and stood up to take in her new surroundings: Darkness everywhere, which she liked, framing an eternally grey and rocky landscape, about which she was less enthusiastic. She had never been so close to the moon beforehoof; she’d make certain to throw Celestia into the sun.
She posed and spread her wings, disturbing no dust, and propelled herself from the satellite’s surface; she would go into the space between worlds to grab her bearings before returning to Equestria, only she found herself unable to go as high as she needed for this; it became increasingly harder to put distance between herself and the rock, the further she got away from it, until she was defeated by the pull and slowly drifted back down. She knew herself to be strong enough for such basic flight, and Celestia would be unable to do this to her from such a distance; it had to be the elements doing this. No matter, she could walk to the bright side of the moon but, on second thought, why would she? No, she would conserve her strength on the dark side for now.
Attempt after attempt after attempt after attempt, all aborted, and almost agonizing, began to make her see her predicament more clearly. Far be she from ruling over Equestria shrouded in an eternal night, she was alone on the moon. She channelled the magic in the stars, but only after proper alignment could they aid in her escape; that would take generations, centuries. Celestia had won, for now.
She recalled not when her exile had started, nor how many weeks or months it had been since she had moved on from being Luna to being lunar; she only recalled Celestia’s first look of horror at her transformation, and wondered how she must have felt at seeing her sister transform into a monster; she only recalled the ponies who could never belove her now, with so much taken from them. It didn’t matter. She was Nightmare Moon now, and she would see her plan through. Time heals most wounds. Slowly, she travelled to the bright side of the moon, and the light nearly blinded her. She sat with some difficulty, and stared at the planet for what felt like days; then she looked at her moon, and then herself.
She screamed, but it made no sound, and nopony would ever hear it.
A scan for magical energy proved it. She wasn’t alone on the moon, and never had been. But a small bump now, she was with foal. The malaise and self-hatred began to leave her, replaced by hope and hatred towards those who denied her. She had never been with foal beforehoof, and a second scan revealed unto her not the beginnings of a filly, but the start of a colt. Whatever shred of remorse within her died at the knowledge of this new life inside of her.
She let herself fall backwards, waiting several seconds until her back hit the ground, in order to get a better look at her barrel. For the first time since her banishment, Nightmare Moon smiled; she was currently queen of the moon, and he would be her prince. She didn’t even mind the light touching her in the moment, but closed her eyes to dream about what his appearance would be, about his demeanor, about what he’d do as her prince, about which chained mares he would take as his concubines. She protected him from the cold, and he protected her from herself.
She ignored it for hours, and then days, before admitting to herself: He would die if he couldn’t eat, in seconds if he couldn’t breath. It was unconventional, but she didn’t need to eat to stay alive, and she didn’t need to eat to keep him alive. Still, she could carry him safely in her body, but as soon as he was born his fate would be decided. Only the water and walls of her womb, and then the remaining viscera, protected him from the cold void that would take him from her. So, it was settled, he wouldn’t leave her, at all. The die was cast: He would cast in her die, indefinitely.
Time passed and he grew. It would prove difficult to ensure proper development with such few resources. She knew a foal should hear the world around himself; while the beat of her heart was more than enough, he deserved more, but even she couldn’t talk in the void; she settled for making horrible noises with her throat to break the monotony. She knew a foal should feel the world around himself move, so often she would do nothing but walk in large circles, or occasionally straight lines, for days at a time; she needn’t rest. Every so often, she imagined what a pony would think, seeing her walking around aimlessly, making grunts and every other noise she could, but immediately she would be reminded that there were no pony to see her doing so, and there never would be any other pony to watch her. She was almost alone, and her only companion wasn’t much for observing.
She was so happy the first time she felt him stir, it being the first time another living pony had prodded her in so long. As he grew, he could disturb her skin, and she got to watch rather than but feel. She would play with him when he did this, poking him as he poked her, but it never lasted long. She understood. He had to sleep, and she didn’t. She couldn’t sleep even if she wanted it; being the ruler of nightmares was a double-sided yoke in that respect. It was for the best; she had to protect them; she hadn’t seen another living thing on the moon, but in the corners of her vision she occasionally saw movement, shadows whom she didn’t recognize; never was there anything there at a closer look, but she would remain vigilant. At first, she decided she would kill anything she saw, but that was wrong; she would torture it to death and then feed it to her foal, that was right.
She never did find anything else.
He was ready to be born, and she wasn’t ready for his birth; so, she cast a simple spell that would reliably prevent a dam’s dam from bursting. That placed enough strain on her. It was too much to stop him also from continuing to grow. Alicorns were akin to a precursor race to ponies, larger and hardier, and she really felt little difference as the months passed and he grew well past what any normal mare could bear. However, even she would’ve begun to feel the strain of carrying an increasingly larger gravidity, had it not been for the lower gravity of her prison.
She kept time for a short while by tracking his growth, from foalhood, to young childhood, to his teenage years, and then she had a grown stallion hanging from her, constantly writhing in a vain attempt to get more comfortable within his mother. It would’ve driven any normal mare mad, but she was no normal mare, under no normal conditions; he was the only unpredictable aspect of being on the moon, and she delighted in his antics, especially when she mispredicted them. It would’ve killed any normal mare, to be stretched by a stallion from the inside-out, but she was no normal mare, and if she could easily withstand the lifeless void of space, well she wouldn’t be a foal about her foal. If he ever got too rowdy, even for her, she would just force him to sleep with a twirl of her horn.
Eventually, she was unable to track the time passed in this way, simply because he stopped growing. He wouldn’t wither away, grow old and die, inside of her; no, he would naturally remain in his prime now, for as long as she lived, and she would live forever. It did delight her, upon reflection, that he would always be a foal to her, even like this, with her advanced age and immortality over him.
Anything, anything at all, to stave off the otherwise inequine loneliness.
She almost cried when she realized even the most optimistic equine lifespan remaining for his sire had passed. He had probably died childless, thinking of her; that’s what she would believe. It was no matter; his foal would’ve outlived him regardless, and now it was mere certainty. He was still here, in a way, inside of her; he probably resembled him; it would be fine; she wasn’t alone; she wouldn’t be alone.
She would be beloved.
The stars aided in her escape. Their alignment gave unto her their full power and, as she looked up to face the planet, she bent over, lowered herself as far as she could, and pushed with all four mighty legs to propel herself towards the planet that would be hers; finally, she was free, flying in the void between worlds; she almost felt bad for so wanting to leave her moon, even after so long. In minutes, she was close enough to return to Equestria, and could see the mountain signifying her target. She could have come in the form of a meteorite, or as light from the heavens, but instead, as soon as she could feel its magic, she teleported instantly to the planet’s surface.
She was in a forest. She could breathe. She could scream. She could eat. Instantly she tore into the nearest vegetation covering the ground and swallowed it and the dirt feeding it in-turn. She tore the bark from trees and drank stagnant water in ponds. She sought flesh to consume, but even the strongest and most ferocious monsters of the Everfree Forest gave her a wide berth, perhaps unnecessarily; with the planet’s gravity pulling at them, she felt the true weight of an overdue foal begin to strain her back and impede her mobility. Now with somewhere to go and on a schedule at that, she wanted to take long strides, only to nearly fall over herself; her planted hooves dug into the dirt as she swung back-and-forth, and she turned around to hiss at her pendulum before composing herself.
She could feel Celestia’s magic nearby, surrounded by lesser magical forces, so a town, or a village. The elements were far away, in their old castle, so Celestia certainly wouldn’t be able to use them this time; she doubted Celestia even could use them at all by now. First things first, she should finally free her prince from her loving embrace; he was a little large to comfortably foal, but she could have her body turn to smoke around him instead. No, she wouldn’t let Celestia take away that from her as well. She would not give her prince an ersatz birth. Still, she should subdue sister first, birth second; while it would be amusing for the ponies to see her so swollen with foal, since they would mistake it for cannibalism, it would be easier for her to maintain control over them with a little less fear this time, and easier to dominate Celestia if she could move. She became smoke, but her barrel remained firm, now a squirming and taut flesh sack on the ground.
Celestia had felt her. Celestia had to have felt her. There was no other explanation for why she had disappeared so thoroughly at her arrival. Still, Celestia had voluntarily given up control over the heavens, and the night was now set to be eternal once again. After knocking back some of her sister’s pathetic entourage, it seems only one unicorn had the temerity to oppose her. Second things second, she split her right foreleg from her body and sent it away on errands; it could take the form of a thorn, a sword, and like things to impede anypony who dared to oppose her in the meanwhile. She felt a quickening, almost from within her, but not quite; rather than return to smoke, she carefully walked to and set herself over her disconnected womb. She could’ve stood that way, she could’ve stood so easily, but decided to remain where she lay. She was crushing him with her weight, but he would be fine. She winced before feeling a stallion’s buck stretch her from the inside, the detail of his leg visible from underneath her skin and beneath her coat, and for a while she continued to feel him bludgeon her insides before deciding now was the time for him to enter the world through her exit.
Third things third, she lay her front half against the grass and spread her hindlegs before releasing the spell that kept them as one. Immediately, a torrent of fluid sprayed forth and her strong muscles began squeezing her barrel. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, first at the pleasure of the sensation, second at the pain of it. She felt one of his hooves enter her birth canal and felt the other get caught, and so magicked him back a tad to telekinetically correct the issue; it wasn’t hard, because he’d barely moved at all. She realized fighting against gravity was particularly stupid here, and let herself completely fall over to her side. Even then, he was big, and wouldn’t fit through her without some changes.
A queer noise could be heard as she split her hips in twain. It was no matter if he dragged half of her organs out with him; she could withstand it, and would forgive him nevertheless. She felt shame as she imagined herself laying with a fully-grown dragon as she birthed her son, but she’d seen several up close, and they had members about as large. She banished the thought, but it kept returning. She placed a hoof against the front of her barrel, and pushed down with her contractions; she believed it to have helped, anyway.
After minutes, both of his blue forelegs could be seen hanging from her marehood, and the reckless pony could’ve seen his white mane by peaking between them. She grit her teeth, shut her eyes, and choked; every snort blew what wasn’t quite smoke from her nostrils, as his head journeyed bit-by-bit through her form. Eventually, that too exited her, leaving his shoulders to snag on her snag, but with that she’d had enough and magicked his entrance a few hoofs wider than equinely possible before then grabbing him in her hold and gently pulling the rest of his form from her. She let her head hit the ground and she sighed.
After minutes, he stood. His legs were hard and strong, she had made certain of that, but he knew not how to use them yet, and still made a display of tripping over himself like any foal; it brought a wide-eyed, fanged smile to her face.
Her leg returned to her, and told her of its misdeeds. That flamboyant serpent should keep those pesky ponies at bay for a while long enough.
She stood, only to realize she still needed to rejoin her hindquarters, and more queer noises could be heard as her body reorganized itself. She could’ve had a postpartum period, but desired it not, and so willed it away. Her barrel was sleek, her body strong, and she felt empty in the most literal sense; perhaps she would take a harem as her son would, so she could give him a sibling sooner or later. Then she walked over to him and set about to clean him; it was easy with such a long tongue, and she severed the umbilical cord with her fangs. With that finished, she gave him his first meal, and finished cleaning herself.
The placenta was delicious.
He was hidden safely away in the castle, asleep. Those foolish ponies, wielding the new elements, continued to oppose her. She was certain she could destroy them a second time, and charged her horn to attack.
Then the Elements of Harmony hit her, and the colours of the rainbow swirled around her until all she could see was black. No, she was on the moon once again. She had failed once again. Without her to protect him, her foal would either starve or be killed; either way, he would die horribly, because of her. There was, finally, no reason left to remain alive. She would take one final glance at her stars, and let oblivion have her.
She couldn’t see her stars. Her eyelids were stuck together; after a moment of trying, she opened them, blinking away crust, to realize she was still in Equestria. She felt decidedly less evil now, not that she had felt evil beforehoof. The remains of Nightmare Moon lay scattered around her, not as gore, but as hard shards of what appeared to be like a shell. Half of Nightmare Moon’s snarling face lay cracked on the ground, almost as if her beheaded head had been embedded in the floor. It was so strange, even to such an old goddess as she, to see what had been herself separated like this.
She was nearly blinded by the light that was her solar counterpart, her dear sister? Perhaps, if she begged, Celestia would spare him. Would she need to beg?
There was a reunion, tears, embraces, and she felt the millennium passed begin to lose importance to her. The other ponies had left them. There was somepony who still needed attention, however. Celestia followed her sister through the broken hallways before entering a small room, with a sleeping stallion, to be told he was her nephew, and not the result of some foalnapping the earlier night.
Seeing him as she was now, Luna was certainly glad she had birthed him beforehoof; he was now larger than she. Then fresh tears came as the reality hit her. “W-What about him, big sister? He’s a stallion with the mind of a foal! Oh, I can’t bear it!” She turned away from him, to her surprise, to feel the warm embrace of Celestia’s coat and plumage.
“It will be okay, little sister. It will be okay. There are spells that can help. I have experience with them. He will be okay, so do not worry.”
Duke Blue Moon sat on a cushion at a table, in his private dining hall, overseen by an entourage of royal guards, and with his favourite breakfast set before him, eggs sunny-side down on toast and coffee with a hint of milk. His magical ability was of course out of question, and yet somehow he still accidentally dropped his knife for it to land against his left foreleg rummaging through the day’s newspaper. The smallest droplet of blood was visible where it had landed. His delayed reaction was immediately ceasing with his morning ritual and crying. “Owww, my poor hoof!”
The guards watched him, silent but judging. Noble ponies could be such foals. The duke was acting as if he’d never accidentally cut himself before now.
Copyright 2022 Kassaz
Verbatim copying and redistribution of this document is permitted.
Author's Note
This feels very different from the rest of my work. I had to work hard to get it finished in time for Nightmare Night. It's less titillating than my usual fare. Did you still enjoy it?
