Oneiromance

Chapters

first
second
third
last

first

I loved plans. Sure, I could get a little frazzled in the face of something scary that I wasn't prepared for, when the plans needed plans to plan them, and backup plans and upfront plans. But a plan that had worked before became more like a recipe — a set of steps for success. When I knew what was coming, when I'd done it before, there was a meditative quality to process.

Getting ready for a date was a new kind of process, but already I found it comforting. Predictable steps, time-consuming but not difficult, each one visible in its result as the bookish mare in the mirror slowly transformed into somepony special. I trotted out of the bathroom and triple-checked my list for the second time. Everything was in order! Nerves flitting about my stomach, I walked into my bedroom, slid under the covers, and turned off the light.

I awoke into lucidity, lying on a soft shadow, stars scattered in unfamiliar constellations above. Standing, I looked down, happy to see my dress and all the other preparations had carried over. Oneiromancy was a new field to me, one I was eager to explore, but I found it a little fickle. Dreams were slippery things, and since magic was a practice of gripping the world, it followed that the magic of dreams would be tricky.

I turned to see a mare emerge from the boundary of my dream. As my eyes wandered that midnight blue coat, I wondered briefly whether Luna prepared herself in the same way, or if she formed her dreamself at will. It must be the latter, because perfection like this couldn't exist in the waking world. I thought, distantly, that that wasn't a scientific observation but rather the murmurings of a lovestruck filly, but the review panel of my mind overruled the objection. Luna's mane, which in waking felt like a void in space, here was a natural extension of the stars all around. As if the stuff of dreams itself had extended a hoof to brush against my cheek.

"Oh my, am I early?" she asked, looking around at the naked stars. "This dream doesn't seem quite finished."

I blushed and wound up the pickup line I'd prepared. "You're all I need to make this dream complete, Luna," I mumbled, eyes breaking from her and wandering into the stars beyond. No points for execution, I guess.

She stepped forward and nuzzled me, then drew back and caught my eyes. Any place I dreamed up would've vanished then, anyway — that gaze shrunk the world down so it only had space for her and I. "As much as I agree with the sentiment," Luna said, "somewhere to lay would be most pleasant, would it not?"

"Uhh," I looked around, then down. Folding my legs under me and sitting on the admittedly not-really-comfortable not-really-ground, I grinned sheepishly up at her. "Maybe it does need a little more to be complete."

Luna laughed, a sharp sound with a husky edge, like the arc connecting shadow and light on the face of the moon. "This seems a good opportunity for a lesson," she said, sitting next to me.

My tail flicked with glee. A date and a lesson? She really was the one for me. "I'd love that," I responded, scooting over to press my coat against hers.

"You mentioned that you learned to lucid dream when you were young."

"I, err. I thought it was a waste of time, eight hours when I could be studying..." I admitted, laughing at myself. "Imagine how disappointed I was when I finally figured out it was impossible to read in a dream."

Luna smiled and looked out at the starfield. "As much as this is a boundless realm, it is written in a language ponies have forgotten. Especially for one so learned as you, learning to think in symbols alone poses challenges." Luna paused and looked back down at me with a thoughtful expression. "The luthier who carved the first fiddle... Would you say it was her destiny, to bring that instrument into our world? Or that her talent was the creation of fiddles?"

"Rosin Pitch?" I blinked at the non sequitur, but was accustomed to the pedagogical methods of alicorns and pressed on. "I would. I don't know how much I believe in destiny, but inventing such an instrument must be the height of any craftspony's talent."

"Mm. Yet her cutie mark did not depict a fiddle, but a bowed length of wood. It would be disconcerting, to say the least, for our history to be shaped by pictures on our flanks. But after the first luthier's work, it still took decades for it to appear on ponies' flanks. What do you suppose was the catalyst for its appearance?"

I watched the stars twinkle, an effect of ripples along the dream's boundary. "Do they need time to soak into culture? After the fiddle's inception, I bet it took years for any songs to be composed for them, and decades for any masterpiece. Nopony would've thought them more than a novelty for a while, if a beautiful one."

"That is a fair theory, and one held by many. I believe the truth lies a sight further, in the dreams swirling in the wake of society's currents."

"You're saying that cutie marks are symbols which draw from the zeitgeist in the same way that dreams do?" I asked, skipping a few steps of logic instinctively. I flinched at my rudeness, but Luna grinned.

"That is what I believe. But all I mean to illustrate with this detour is that you may be more familiar with the language of dreams than you believe. You have, after all, given a lecture on novel cutie mark research, have you not?"

"I suppose I have," I chuckled. "Let me try." I closed my eyes, thinking of the park in Ponyville at night, a crescent moon hanging above, lit by lamplight and crossed with stone paths. A lamppost was kind of a symbol, right? Is the whole place a symbol, or is it composed of them? When I opened my eyes again, only the stars remained from my memory. "I could go places I remembered in the past, but now... Maybe it's nerves. I can't seem to summon anything."

"You're at the figurative bedrock of the dreamscape, Twilight," Luna said, looking around. "There's no substrate to work with, so to speak. Nothing grows on rock. To even get to this state to begin with is no easy feat, and I am impressed, but I imagine you achieved it subconsciously." Her tail flicked against mine, ethereal starstuff playing with earthly fiber. "Perhaps you were too focused on something else to dream of anything at all."

I blushed and looked away. "Perhaps."

"Close your eyes," Luna said, and I did. "You must thrust all your senses into memory. Somewhere you remember vividly, somewhere you miss: the smell of it, the sounds, the feeling. Forget about the sight of it; imagine you are there, with your eyes closed as they are now."

Somewhere I missed. Afternoon sun warming my coat. A light summer wind. Summer grass and sweet pollen carried in it. Rustling leaves and music from a hanging set of wind chimes. Parchment. A cup of black tea, ritualistically prepared in the way my mentor taught me, not through pedagogy but routine.

I opened my eyes, and I was home. Ponyville was perfectly framed through the open balcony of the Golden Oak. The lack of tears surprised me — where I expected the raw, jagged edge of loss, instead there was a calm and sense of rightness that pressed against my insides with a pleasant pressure. I looked up to see Luna sipping a cup of tea, pleased expression mirroring mine.

"Exploration is the first and most important part of oneiromancy," she said, pausing to take a sip. "All magic requires an understanding of the world surrounding you and the laws governing it. The same is true here, but this world is your own mind. Trips through it like this one are an excellent way to learn the lay of the land."

I walked out onto the balcony and paused in thought, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my coat. "That sounds... hard. When I was a filly, sometimes I dove so deeply into my studies only because there was something about myself I didn't want to think about." Trying to take the curiosity that drove me to learn magic and turn it inward, when it had at least partially risen out of a desire to avoid doing just that... No easy task, surely.

Luna joined me on the balcony. "We have all the time in the world," she said, a wing coming to rest around my withers, her foreleg flush with mine. "Unfortunately..."

I looked up at her, prompting her through the pause. "Unfortunately?"

"I," she said, leaning down with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, "am easily distracted." She leaned down and kissed me, neither a quick peck nor a deep passion. It was firm but yielding, an assurance of the strength of what was growing between us.

When she broke it, I nuzzled into her side and she wrapped her wing tighter around me, looking out across Ponyville. "It's a beautiful town, isn't it?" I asked, following her gaze.

"It's wonderful. I practically consider it a home away from home, now... I cannot wait to share it with you again. But we could hide away here in your library and I would be just as happy," she said, lifting her wing from me and stepping back.

"Wellllll... Now that I'm getting the hang of summoning dreams, maybe we can have a few trial runs." I turned to follow, but stopped.

There, inside my old bedroom, stood two Lunas. The Luna I'd spent the evening with up until this point, who wore no regalia and had let her walls down to show me her playfulness and affection, was one. The other was Princess Luna of Equestria, crown and all.

Following my gaze, my Luna sighted her copy and jumped a little, then relaxed. She waved a hoof over the other's eyes, who turned to look at her, clearly miffed. "How interesting! A figment."

"We are not a—" The fake Luna started, the offense on her face growing.

"Where'd she— uh, you? — come from?"

"Hm..." Luna tapped her chin with a hoof. "It's a manifestation of some feeling in your subconscious... But what, I can't be sure." she said, circling her copy slowly.

"I'm not sure a fourth date is quite in 'show your marefriend the deep-seated fears which wear her face' territory..." I mumbled, scuffing a hoof against the ground.

"You dare psycho-analyze us?!" Dream Luna responded, nostrils flaring. "We are not a manifestation!"

"Well, I've read some dream analysis books... It's using the royal plural like you used to. Maybe it represents some feelings I had toward you in the past?" I sat on my haunches, raising a foreleg to my chin in thought.

"Fear?" Luna asked quietly.

"... No, that's not it. Or, it is, but not the kind of fear you're thinking. Back then, I was afraid, but of my own desires, not of you."

"You did say that you've had a crush on me practically since we met..." Luna mused, stopping her circumnavigation to sit next to me.

"Crush?!" Dream Luna asked, head whipping back and forth between the two of them.

"Maybe... shame? It might've appeared when you brought up going around Ponyville together as... as a couple. It's scary."

Dream Luna focused on me. "A... couple?" Its expression was just as I imagined it would be back then, had I not kept my feelings under control: not disgust, per se, but disquiet, as if the thought didn't quite fit into her brain. I looked at the floor, eyes tracing the rings in the wood.

"Yeah... This is basically how I imagined you reacting." I shuddered. "Even if I know it's not really you, it still feels..."

Luna nuzzled me, warm breath tickling my cheek. "My love, it is only a dream."

I snorted. "Only a dream, says the mistress of the night."

She looked thoughtful. "Well. While it cannot hurt you, anything here in this realm is a manifestation of your psyche." She paused. "Except me, of course," she said with a laugh, and I leaned against her. "For shame to find space here, now, even while we are this," she said, wing returning to me, "tells me that something should change."

"I think... Could we start small? Just my friends. And Princess Celestia." I said, smiling up at her.

"Of course." She took my chin in her hoof and returned the gaze. "While these dream rendezvouses are the height of romance," she said, something hungry flickering in her eyes, "I would very much like to do this in the waking world."

She closed the distance and demonstrated, letting the kiss languish this time, her lips yielding to mine. I wondered whether here, in a dream, we could melt into each other if we kissed long enough. It felt like we were, and I wanted to know how it felt in life, too. I drew away slowly, and opened my eyes to meet hers again. "I think I'd like that."

I leaned up, hungry for more, but my gaze flicked to Dream Luna, who had fallen to her rump and was staring, slack-jawed. "This... doesn't make for a very romantic atmosphere, does it?" I asked with a chuckle.

"It does not," Luna agreed. "And while yours is my favorite destination, Twilight, I have many more dreams to visit tonight. You are an excellent hostess. Good evening." She kissed me quickly, once more, then spread her wings and took off from the balcony, flying up and out of sight.

When I looked back, Dream Luna was gone as well, and with her went the clammy feeling of fear in my gut. On waking, I decided I needed some practice before telling the others. It was time to write a letter.

second

Apart from the contented crackle and pop of the fire, my chambers were silent. A stack of parchment lay on the desk in front of me. Celestia had strict rules about not bringing work into her chambers, to avoid contaminating her private space with stress, but I lacked her rigor. The stack was supposedly a collated history of the development of modern weather manufacturing, but it could be about fancy hats through the ages, for all I knew; I hadn't read a word of it. After guiding my moon below the horizon and watching my sister raise her charge in its place, I had retired here early to sleep. Sleep had not come.

Most ponies familiar with the portion of my domain which did not hang in the sky at night believed my work there to be like sleep, but its resemblance was superficial. It was closer to meditation, and required focus. While sleeping ponies drifted in and out of dreams, I stepped straight into my realm and did not sink below it until I opened my eyes. It was as dissimilar from the sustenance of sleep as preparing food was to filling one's stomach.

On the moon, I did nothing but dream.

I slumped out of my chair sans royal grace, abandoning my attempts at study in favor of the embrace of my bed's sheets. It was pleasantly warm from the fire which had burned through the night, but the sensation did nothing to pull me under, content with just holding me there at the boundary of sleep. Some comfort, at least.

Indeed, it was not my work which kept me from rest. Or at least, not the nature of it. However, toward the beginning of the night, it had revealed a fact to me that I had been turning over in my mind since learning it, edge over edge until it was smooth. Here at my desk, I could finally behold it as it was. Twilight Sparkle had fallen into a dangerous delusion.

Usually, I wouldn't permit such a vision as I'd seen in her dream to follow me to the waking world. Those visions were moored loosely, and at the end of each journey I chose which I cut away to be left as mere suggestion and which I would keep. Dreams were private things, meant to flit through the mind and leave only imprints — a sensation of falling, a whisper from a pony mourned, a touch, hoof to cheek — I let them lay more often than not.

The sight of my dear friend kissing a copy of me would not stop replaying itself in my mind.

I was the one part of a pony's dream whose presence suggested it was more than a private memory. It was empowering for one to realize that their private terror, which was inexplicable on awakening, was at least witnessed by another. Sometimes, I played confidante and offered comfort, other times I played the hero and vanquished the nightmare myself. However, this fact had a downside that I had no reason to dwell on prior: were a pony to dream of me, how would they know their figment from my true self?

I shook my head. I had only seen a glimpse. There were plenty of explanations — first, dreams were often totally involuntary, and mixed one desire with another. Ponies could feel violated by the workings of their own subconscious. Her brain could have mixed the admiration we felt for each other with her own loneliness — and I knew she was lonely. I wondered if the Princess of Friendship had explored the fields adjacent to her domain and worried that, as Celestia said was her habit, she had thrown herself into her study to the utter exclusion of all else.

There was another explanation, however. A pony in dreams often does not appear as they are awake. Twilight had become a mare of renown, a Princess in her own right, and the starscape was dusted liberally with odd little fantasies. Ones as prominent as we in the psyche of our nation would appear naturally in these — it took me far too long to develop my oneiric sense enough to feel the dream-texture of white on midnight blue and turn away before I witnessed something unseemly.

The court held no rumors of me flitting from private affair to private affair via dreams, so ponies likely knew whatever figments they entertained with my face were just that. I was not so social as my sister, so nopony had a reason to believe I would seek them out for a roll in the proverbial hay. I rolled in my sheets instead, pointedly not thinking about how that sheen of deniability had tempted me before. But that was just further proof of its strength, and this could simply be a new shade of the common fantasies that danced in the collective subconscious, Friendship a new flavor to mix with the classics.

Alas, my fantasy of dropping the smooth stone I beheld and forgetting it underhoof the tread of rationalization did not last long.

There was a knocking at my door, which would've been too quiet to register had I been doing anything more than staring at the canopy above. I rolled to my hooves, caring not for the sheets which I dragged to the floor. Pulling the door open, I expected my seneschal with some forgotten business from court. Instead, I found myself looking down at a golden petral. My eyes flicked up to meet my sister's, and the blush on her face was so uncharacteristic that I forgot to greet her. She looked like a filly caught sneaking pastries, a crime she committed regularly in the castle kitchens with not a dimple out of place.

"S- Sister," she stammered. Stammered. Celestia stammered, I thought, still too stunned to say much of anything. "A letter came for you."

Now this was a sort of unusual I could at least deal with. The gears of bureaucracy which had become intricate in my absence, and the wrenches thrown into them so regularly as to be part of the machine. I remembered to close my mouth, and raised an eyebrow in its place. "Good morning, sister. Is my seneschal indisposed? Typically she would deliver my mail to me."

"Well, er. This came by dragonfire."

Few enough ponies had access to that line of communication that I instantly knew what the letter was.

"I see you must have been expecting it," Celestia said, looking off to the side. I realized I was blushing at least as badly as her and turned away. "I apologize profusely, sister, I had no idea it was addressed to you, and I didn't read more than a few lines, but—" she cut herself off, shoving the scroll with its broken seal to me, oblivious to its collision with my muzzle as her magic winked out.

I still couldn't muster a response, but this seemed not to matter as Celestia quickly turned and left without even a goodbye. Hoofbeats receded down the hallway. I swallowed, the fire suddenly distant and cold as I imagined the contents of the letter. Closing the door and barring it for good measure, I braced myself equally, then sat down to read.

My Moon and Stars,

Oh no. Oh no no no. I took a deep breath. All of my rationalizations flew skyward like smoke up the chimney, the fuel that was my friendship with Twilight burning merrily. For this to arrive here, from her, could only mean the dream had been hers, and she had been lucid enough to want all of it, but not enough to question any of it. The Princess of Friendship, whose domain I had entered by her side, was courting a figment that she'd mistaken for me. I let out my breath, mustered my courage, and continued reading.

I feel at a disadvantage, writing a love letter to you.

Eyes not lifting from the page, my horn lit and its aura coated a high cupboard from which I retrieved a bottle of apple brandy and a tumbler. With a pleasureless precision, I poured myself a drink and secreted the bottle back to its home. A single gulp, delivered like a hoof to the face, and I continued.

In courtship with any other pony, I could paint wall to wall with overwrought metaphors. I've read poets that claim their beloved hangs the stars in the sky. But before you such art is reduced to descriptor. What metaphor could capture the immensity of what you are to me, compared to the reality of what you are to Equestria?

Perhaps it is the other way around, then. Where other ponies see you and think of your moon, I see your moon and think of you. When it rises in the late evening, waxing or waning, new or full, I can barely see the moon for the mare in it. In the starry sky, every constellation seems to point to you in Canterlot, a distance only bridged by dreams.

This was wrong. This was private. I shouldn't have read another word — my fear was confirmed, after all. What more was there to gain? Outside my notice, sips of brandy had shifted from grounding me in reality to complementing to the letter's contents.

I've taken to basking in the moonlight as one would the sun because it feels like you do. I close my eyes, and imagine your hoof flowing through my mane like liquid silver. You caress my coat. I feel the shine on my lips and kiss it as if you can feel it on yours. When I sleep and find you, I swear I taste that same moonlight on your lips.

I know we're each as busy as the other, but please. Come to Ponyville tomorrow evening. I need to bask in your moon together.

Yours,

Twilight Sparkle

I put the letter down on my desk. This was too much. I stood and circled my room, hoping for the blush on my cheeks to abate. On my third lap, my eye caught that title, 'Moon and Stars', and all my progress was lost. Walking into the bathroom, I splashed my face with cold water and sighed deeply, looking into the mirror at the mess I was.

I was used to being the watcher. In my sister's shadow all those centuries ago, in the earth's shadow cast on the moon, here and now in a society which had moved beyond where I felt I could go. Sometimes, when I was tipsy and couldn't keep a harness on my dark sense of humor, I joked that if Celestia had really wanted to defeat me, she could have simply made me the subject of adulation I craved to be. A fraction of the eyes that followed my sister's every movement would reduce me to dust.

Now, simply being the center of attention for a single mare was disassembling my composure to dust. Memories tilted in my mind, lingering gazes and touches lining up, forming something new until I wasn't certain how long Twilight had felt this way.

I finished my brandy and closed my eyes, trying to summon the wisdom that lent my sister her even keel. Step back, remove yourself from the situation, consider it objectively. Then I grimaced, remembering that the love letter I had just read was penned by the quill of her faithful student, and remembered I had no talent whatsoever for impersonality. Instead, I had before me three options, like my moon anew, in crescent, and full.

First, distance. Simply let the matter rest. The figment would no doubt rationalize my silence to Twilight, excusing it as wanting to keep the matter quiet. I would stay clear of her dreams, and eventually the excuses would buckle under the weight of reality and fade. However, I'd likely meet Twilight again before that could happen. Would she wait for me to make the first move? No, I'd already been outmaneuvered with the... missive that lay before me. Already, another had been involved. I couldn't afford to take the coward's option.

Then, the crescent, the moderate approach. Neither withdrawing nor welcoming. I could simply pen a response to this letter now and ask Celestia to send it back. I would be kind, but firm. But something about the thought curdled in my stomach. It was almost as cowardly as total silence, and I owed my friend more than that. How would it feel, to receive a scroll so promptly, expecting a love letter she could treasure forever, and unrolling only a curt dismissal? We would not recover.

So, the full moon. All my glory, all my patience. I'd go to Ponyville tomorrow, as she asked, and let her down in person. I would be there to comfort her, as a friend should. I wouldn't have to lose her... And I could put off explaining to Celestia why her student sent me a love letter.

Yes, that would do it, I thought. A day of sleep, a night of duties, and then Ponyville the next morning. I finally felt ordered enough to attend to the first order of that business, but carried out ablution of my tumbler and my self first, two faithful vessels laid to rest 'til next use. Hopefully the latter far before the former, though I couldn't deny the appeal of some hair of the dog come evening, what with the headache this misunderstanding had become.

third

The sunset had been awkward, even I could recognize that. Celestia stared at the sun with far more focus than it required, and was retrieved by her own seneschal, who said she was expected at some dinner party or another. I knew she wouldn't invent an event as an excuse to leave, but I also knew her seneschal did not typically lead her around by the snout. No doubt it was a rehearsed exit.

I huffed in annoyance with myself for not putting the issue to rest then, but there was something sacred about the balcony on which we typically changed shifts. It was a place of peace, not to be broached by posturing nor bickering, however sisterly it may have been. That was fine. Once I discussed the nature of things with Twilight, she'd no doubt be as eager to correct Celestia's mistaken impression as I was, and that would save me pleading my case of not having violated her student's innocence.

I did not have court, today, which I was happy for. Like my sister's, it was stocked with nobles, who had become ostentatious and demanding in my absence. Unlike hers, some artists had slipped into those ranks: painters, performers, and poets; they were the stars twinkling between the blank expanses of prattle and pomp. However, I had a second court, one the sun's guardian envied. One where I was the courtier, and our little ponies the sovereigns.

I laid on a cushion in this court's audience chamber. Lavender, fresh and calming, lined the walls, and a fountain borrowed a fragment of the mountain river's cool flow to suffuse the room with mist. The windows flanking the fountain mirrored its flow with moonlight. Most ponies would collapse on the floor, sound asleep, but to me it was the perfect amount of calming. I stepped from this realm into dreams as simply as one steps off a train.

The calm bloomed into joy as I opened my dreaming eyes. I cantered in circles, marveling like a filly at the surrounding stars, as I always did. Oneiromancy never seemed to lose its charm — while I was in awe of the moon, the work of raising and setting it was routine, but dreams were always new even in their familiarity. The light from the oneirospheres surrounding me was the same quality as the starlight above, and I often wondered if those distant points were clusters of dreamlands beyond our world. I hoped our cluster was part of a beautiful constellation and not a lone star.

The first step of oneironavigation, or dreamwalking, required careful control of one's mind. Not domination of the ego over the id, but understanding of the wholeness of the domain, and acceptance that each part, even the dark corners, was in fact part of oneself. In the years before the nightmare, my own mind became harder and harder to confront — because it had, at some point, become an adversary rather than a friend — and eventually I lost the ability to dreamwalk altogether. The claustrophobia accelerated my descent to a dive.

Once the mind was understood, in breadth if not depth, it could be folded. At first, my work was artless, as I had a goal and attempted to force my mind into conformance. It was only when my sister shook me from a tearful sleep that I stepped back and tried a different approach, feeling along the fabric for the places my oneirosphere would fold naturally. A pony's dream domain is explored primarily through the oneiric self, a construct of the ego, the thinking mind reaching as an appendage into the subconscious from which it sprouted, as the mind observes the soma. But just as the mind only observes through the eyes that form part of the body, and the ego sits in the brain which wafts with the endocrine system's chemicals, the division between the dreamer and their domain is never so clear as it seems.

Mantling folds the oneirosphere around the self, making them one and the same, dissolving the division wholly, apart from a single length of dream-twine leading back to its seat to follow back to the body. Encircled in the whole of its domain, the mere avatar transcends to truth, and is free to walk the greater dream plane as ponies walk in waking. Oneironavigation had all the same risks, as well: it was the difference between testing cold waters with a hoof and diving in with a cannonball. Fortunately, the nature of dreams as inviolable privacies meant the mind developed no immune system for foreign agents such as myself.

"... Luna..." My ears perked up at the sound, breaking me from my considerations. "Luna..." A voice whispered through the dreams, and I swiveled my ears around, seeking it out. "Luna!" Surely a cry such as that could only be drawn out by pain or fear! I broke into a gallop, warm assurance flickering in my heart. Only a few years back among the living and already ponies in their dreams called out to me for aid, for a soothing hoof against their fear. To have become this, not fear itself but a bulwark against it, meant more to me than I could ever say.

So it was with haste and confidence I breached the dream's boundary, ready to face whatever dared harm one of our little ponies. I was not prepared for the fright that awaited me. The pony who called for aid lay tangled in her sheets, slick with sweat, eyes screwed up as she moaned. That was where the resemblance to terror ended. In the bedroom of her lost Golden Oak Library, the afternoon sun filtering in from the balcony, Twilight Sparkle was whimpering with pleasure as I ravished her.

The disconnect froze me on my hooves. Seeing myself licking and nipping at the purple fur on her neck, a hungry smile twisting my lips and my stomach. The possessiveness with which my hooves clutched her, and the way her spine arched to be closer to me. Anger and fear fought for control of my mind, any calm I could hope to muster lost in the frenzy. My perception of myself snapped free from this mockery, and time moved again.

"Twilight Sparkle!" I bellowed with the full force of the Royal Voice. It had its intended effect, my target's legs going stiff and bucking her figment of me across the room, where she was buried in an avalanche of books. I reflected on the closeness of fear and pleasure for a moment as my would-be suitor's lather renewed itself.

"Princess Luna!" she yelped, glancing wildly around the room. "I— I was just—" She scrabbled for some excuse, clearly caught off guard, but just then the other me popped her head out from the books, catching Twilight's gaze. "Oh, right," she muttered, looking back to me reproachfully. "This."

I hadn't planned to start it like this, but I supposed there was nothing for it, now I was here. "I received your letter. I will be coming to Ponyville on the morrow to discuss it with you personally, but I want to make it clear: I am not angry with you, just—"

"Goodness, it sounds just like my sister," the figment tittered.

"I guess it's no wonder my shame would have a little of her in it, too..." Twilight mumbled, looking down at her hooves. Her eyes flickered to my copy. "You... did get my letter, didn't you Luna?"

She tilted her head. "That is how we got to this point, is it not? I wished to show my adoration." She licked her lips, and I twitched at this utter perversion of my character.

"When you didn't write back, I worried..." She ran a hoof through her sheets, not meeting her imaginary lover's eyes, her ears lowered. I stepped forward unconsciously — put it together, Twilight! You're smarter than this!

Her figment struck the wood beneath her with a hoof, catching Twilight's attention. She looked suitably contrite. "I apologize. I never meant to make you doubt us... Do you know how awkward it is to ask your own sister to send her student a love letter from you?" That predatory look returned to her eyes. "I merely thought I could wait a day and show you in pony exactly how much you mean to me, Twilight. I even couldn't resist granting you a preview." She licked her lips and began stalking toward the bed, tail flicking as if prepared to demonstrate.

I scrambled across the wooden floor, blocking her advance. Alas, this part of her was intelligent too. "Twilight Sparkle... My friend," I said, trying to meet her gaze, but she only looked past me. "We— I am the true Luna. You've been taken in by a dream. Please, step away from this, so we may talk on the morrow."

My pleas went unheard. "Perhaps waiting would be better. In the waking world, this part of you will not stand in our way."

"... Won't it? Even if it's more assertive here, it's still something I feel. What if I..." Twilight bit her lip and looked out the window, toward Canterlot. "I'm sick of living with this shame. I know I deserve what I have. I deserve to love you."

It hurt me deeply, to see her use me as a bludgeon against herself. I was making no progress here. I stepped back, resolving to leave this dream and let it sink to whatever lurid depths Twilight wished to dive. Then I would ensure she could not fall for a delusion such as this again.

But something was bothering me, pulling at my mind. I mentally withdrew from Twilight's conversation with herself. What was it? I guess it's no wonder my shame would have a little of her in it. There was a hint of Celestia in this dream, not in me but my shadow. Something about the figment reminded me of my sister. Of course Twilight would likely seek a lover more patient than I, more giving, and twist my likeness with those traits. I had no idea where she'd pulled the flirtiness from, however. But it was something else which was bothering me.

Her tone, I realized. It slipped into something didactic at times, and I wondered for the first time what this figment really was. If I was shame, to Twilight, what was the Luna she thought to be true, beneath the delusion? Her love for me? Her gaping loneliness?

Thinking of a dream geometrically, the figments within are intersections of the psyche with the dream plane, where the oneiric self is simply the ego's intersection. But where these outcroppings of the psyche intersected depended on the parts of the collective unconscious they were bound to. Mundane psychology was often enough to understand, to trace the common symbols back to what they represent, but some complicated snarls of geometry required oneiromancy.

I reached out with a neglected portion of my skillset, and touched the mind of Twilight.

Love, fear, all sorts of feelings were tangled up in the false Luna. I dared not pick at the knot, but I could feel in its depths something more. A strand that led somewhere higher, something beyond the symbols of pony concerns. Something true. I'd met prophets in dreams, and it was not unheard of for a pony's psyche to entangle some strand from beyond their oneirosphere, so I was not shocked. But I was curious — exactly what truth would be tangled up in Twilight's picture of me? And was it where she picked up this didactic streak, wrapped in Celestia's tone?

"I'm tired of losing to my fears, Luna." Twilight leaned forward, resting her head against the figment's barrel. "I want to be strong like my friends believe I am. You could chase my shame away, but it would return as soon as you left." My heart twinged at hearing Twilight disparage her own strength, and my resolve to help her was renewed. But now a new curiosity tugged at me. This was the height of my duty, helping ponies who found something beyond themselves in their dreams.

"You always were one to tackle the root of the problem, Twilight. I've always loved that about you," her figment said with a smile, nuzzling against an ear. "Dreams can make us feel helpless, but everything in here is simply a part of you. It is your domain, and you are its master. Your studies under Celestia helped control your magic — my lessons in oneiromancy are their mirror for your dreams."

I froze as the question of what lay at the base of this figment was answered with a ringing peal. Nopony knew about oneiromancy. Not one, besides my sister and myself. One of the more sullen parts of my work here was to check that no whispers of the magic of dreams spread among our subjects, to ensure it remained as unknowable a domain as the movement of the sun. How had Twilight uncovered a truth we'd buried for centuries?

Of course. She was the Element of Magic. She had an innate connection to all things magical, and here in dreams she could tap into parts of the collective unconsciousness which had been forgotten. I had been blinded by the quarrels of common ponies, the fears of lost relationships and spurned friends. Twilight Sparkle was studying oneiromancy under the tutelage of oneiromancy itself, as I had so long ago. That it had become entangled with her perception of dream magic, and its associations with me, had proved as effective a distraction for me as it did her.

How much had she learned? It was a deep domain, but not a wide one, and Twilight was a voracious student. Had she dreamwalked already? No, if she had, she would have learned this Luna was a fake. Instead, she seemed to be taking the same path I had, learning the mind inside and out before finally stepping outside it. Which meant — control. She had spoken of control.

I stumbled over myself as I whipped around, running at full tilt, hooves scrabbling on the wood. Not caring for decorum, only survival. For the first time in over a millennium, a dream was not safe. I was in the mind of a budding oneiromancer who intended to turn her powers on herself and wipe a problem from her own mind, a problem who happened to be a Princess of Equestria. And worse, I had no doubt she could do it.

The mental reconstruction of her beloved oak was true to life: out the door, down the stairs. Space in the mind was a slippery thing, but I only had to breach the boundary of Twilight's projection, and I'd be safe in the cool absence of the greater dream plane. As soon as I awoke, I'd head down to Ponyville and clear up this misunderstanding. After a cold shower.

It pained me to have to break the heart of my dear friend, but I couldn't let this delusion persist. Even if I had been a manifestation of her own shame as Twilight believed, she was essentially performing unlicensed brain surgery on herself by attempting to erase me like this. There was a reason my sister and I hadn't allowed oneiromancy to be absorbed into the general literature: it was far too easy to twist your own psyche into something terrible.

I skidded to a stop, the doorway blocked by my reflection. Beyond it was a scrap of Ponyville lit by a sunny day, and beyond that, the shifting starscape of freedom. I could see it receding as hoofsteps sounded on the stairs behind me, the egocentric construct of the oneirosphere recentering around Twilight's avatar. "Don't let it escape, Luna," she said, arriving at the bottom of the stairs. "It's time I fix this."

I whirled around, facing the younger alicorn. "Twilight, please!" I stuck my hoof out at the fake. "Would I allow you to blast holes in your own mind in the name of self improvement? I'm sorry that you're ashamed of what you feel for me, but this isn't the way to fix it!"

The fake Luna looked reproachfully at my hoof and pushed it away with her own. "Twilight, you've long wrestled with monsters in your dreams. That is what they are for — a safe place, a proving ground to grapple with your own mind. Nothing you do here can hurt you."

"Liar!" I hissed, jumping at my copy. Violet magic held me back, but I pushed against it, hooves flailing at my spiteful mirror image. "Turning our magic on ourself brought us to utter ruin! When we finally struck down Celestia in our own dreams, the Nightmare filled the hole she left! I won't let Twilight do that to herself!"

Twilight strengthened her aura, pulling me down to the ground and holding me there. As I struggled against it, my thoughts went back to my body in Canterlot, no doubt restlessly twisting in the sheets. If Twilight had her way... If she obliterated me here... my mind would be gone. The Luna in Canterlot would never wake up, and Celestia wouldn't even know why until Twilight realized what she'd done.

Tears ran down my face in hot streaks. A millennia missing my sister, punctuated by a scant few happy years together, and now what awaited? Would my soul even survive to move on to whatever was past this place, that plane above the dream I saw glimpses of like shadows on the creekbed? Surely there was something I could do, some way to get Twilight to see reason—

A soft touch on my cheek interrupted my thoughts. "Shh, it's okay," Twilight said, shushing me like a foal. "I know it's scary. I've needed you for so long, to control my impulses, to keep myself from ruining my relationship with Luna. But she loves us. She truly does. And now that we're an alicorn too, we can be with her. We can be happy, not just here in dreams, but in the real world too." I wanted to scream at her that this was all too real already.

The Luna in front of me smiled. It was a perfect replica of mine, from the crinkle at the corner of her eyes to the dimples on her cheeks. I knew, then, that even if the concept of oneiromancy was tangled in it, this was purely the Luna that lived in her mind, the likeness anypony forms of a loved one. And I knew, then, that I couldn't defeat it, because it was perfect to Twilight in every way.

I hung my head as my executioner ran her hoof through my mane. "We'll be so happy," Twilight Sparkle assured, eyes glimmering as they met the gaze of the fantasy that would kill me. I searched my mind, looking for one last argument, anything but last words. Anything but telling Twilight how to set the moon, or how to comfort Celestia when she found her dear little sister sleeping, never to wake up. My mouth wouldn't open, and all those sentiments only leaked out as more tears.

Luna didn't even feel it when Twilight wiped her away like she was a colt's doodle on a blackboard.

last

It felt like I was trotting on air. How long had it been since so many wonderful things happened in the span of a few short years? My faithful student, Twilight Sparkle, grew into a wonderful mare. She proved herself worthy of alicornhood, and returned my sister to me. Though her reintegration into society was slow, every day with her was a joy. And now, two of the most important ponies in my life were dating!

Certainly, it had gotten off to an awkward start with my accidental intercepting of that love letter. I felt a little guilty about lying to my sister, but how could I not read the whole thing? Letters from Twilight were always a treasure, and they'd been getting rarer. I practically taught her the art of correspondence! Who was my sister, to keep me from reading the fruits of my work. The juicy, juicy fruits.

I remembered to stop trotting like a filly, regaining the easy royal gait my subjects expected. Displays of such naked joy could be disconcerting for my little ponies — they were happy to see their Princess happy, of course, but then they'd wonder what I was happy about, and I couldn't tell them. Not yet, at least. I'd managed to get most of the squealing out of my system with Cadence, who was more excited than me, which I would've been annoyed about if it wasn't her duty as Princess.

There was a smidgen of apprehension, of course. I was rather hoping I'd have a good couple hundred years with her before Lulu was ready for deeper social engagements. I wasn't scared of losing her, of course, the honeymoon period was to be expected. I'd even given her the last week off moon duty so she could spend more time with Twilight! A couple more weeks of their relationship being newly minted and we'd fade back into routine as sisters. Twilight would be an addition to our dynamic, not a replacement. Perhaps I'd asked them to high tea with me this morning to hurry that transition along.

I nodded at the guards who stood at attention on either side of the doors to the dining hall and they lit the entry with their magic, pulling it open. Twilight and Luna stood on opposite sides of the room, and the echo of a fallen chair's clatter faded as the doors shut behind me. Twilight's mane was in no state to present to a Princess, peer or no. Luna's lipstick was smeared around her lips, Twilight's lips, Twilight's neck, and more besides. I rolled my eyes, just so we were all on the same level of princessness.

"Goodness," I said, trotting to the table. "You two look like you can barely stand to be in a room together! Your first fight, already?" I knew that that wasn't the truth of their sudden separation, but firstly, teasing was one of the few joys of being a third wheel, and secondly, I did not want to think about my sister sloppily making out with my student.

"Oh! I was just, uh. Fascinated by these drapes!" Twilight said, nuzzling the curtains, which were atrocious. "So... scented!"

"And I was merely checking..." Luna looked up at the empty flowerpots and realized she'd already taken the lavender down for the day. "I was also appreciating these drapes." She cleared her throat. "I think this side's drapes are far better, and Twilight disagrees."

"Just a little couple's spat, hehe!" Twilight offered, moving to hide the drapes which were now also stained with lipstick.

"Of course," I said, hitting them with the full force of the smile I reserved for particularly stupid bureaucrats. Twilight had the decency to flinch, at least. "I'm happy to hear that, actually. I've been meaning to get those things replaced, and the form for budget acquisitions related to interior decorating lists 'caused royal dispute' as a justification."

Twilight laughed nervously, traveling a range of pitches before clamping her mouth shut. Luna simply returned to the table and sat down, ignoring the knocked-over chair, and Twilight joined us across from her. Exercising the sixth sense of a servicepony with a long career, the caterer chose that moment and no sooner to enter, pushing a cart on which sat a tea set and several stands proudly displaying cakes, cupcakes, teacakes, danishes, croissants, pain au chocolats, tiramisu... I dabbed drool away with a napkin and beckoned the service to me with my magic, laying it out on the table as Twilight set out the silverware.

"So, how have things been?" I started, pouring three cups of tea.

"Wonderful," responded Luna with a dopey smile.

"Although," Twilight said, taking her tea and sipping it, "coordinating schedules has been a pain. I'm really living up to my namesake."

I laughed. "Yes, it comes with its own difficulties. I'm sure you'll only come to appreciate the overlaps in your time more deeply, as I have."

"You could become a Princess of the night. It would only be fair, wouldn't it, sister? Two Princesses for the day, two for the night?"

I laughed. "I'm not sure the Princess of Friendship could conduct her court so effectively with everypony asleep, Lulu."

"Well, I manage."

"If Ponyville had a night life or Twilight could dreamwalk, I'm sure she would love the idea. Alas." I took a deep drink of tea, as I always did when making a statement of absolute truth. I was sure Ponyville hadn't sprouted a nightclub while I wasn't looking, after all.

Luna hummed. "Well, soon then. She is a fast learner, as you know. Another few weeks and I'm sure she'll be quite comfortable with oneironavigation."

"What," I said, not taking my eyes off my sister as she wiped the scalding tea off her face with a napkin, "did you say?"

"I said 'I'm sure oneironavigatio—"

With a pulse of golden magic, all the drapes slammed shut and the distant bustle of staff faded to silence.

"Sister," I said, with magnificent calm, "did we not swear an oath to each other, to never speak of that magic again?"

Out of the corner of my eye, Twilight looked like she was about to bolt, but I fixed her with a stare that practically nailed her to the chair. Luna looked similarly cowed, pupils small and hooves trembling. "Of course, Celestia, but... She is one of us."

"She is a foal." Twilight reeled back as if struck, and I gathered myself, then turned to her. "Twilight. I trust you completely, and you are one of the most competent ponies I know. But there are still things I would never have you touch — all the more, for what you mean to me. Oneiromancy," — it took a moment, to force the word from my throat — "is not dark magic, but it is as dangerous as chronomancy. You could not have a better teacher, or any teacher, than Luna in your pursuit of it, but... I must ask that you cease your studies at once." I closed my eyes. "And you must know how grave a danger this is, as I have never asked such a thing of you."

"I— I don't understand, Princess. Chronomancy is still documented in the forbidden archives, but I've never heard any mention of oneiromancy."

Luna spoke up. "While chronomancy requires vast stores of power and knowledge to achieve, the magic of dreams is comparatively simple, especially when you are working with your own mind alone. If it leaked into public perception, it would spread too fast to be contained as restricted magic."

"And its effects would be felt immediately. Half the unicorns in Equestria would likely enter a coma in mere days. Having full access to your own mind, to rewrite its rules... It is a very dangerous, and equally tempting, power." I breathed in, then let out a heavy sigh. "Luna herself knows this well."

Luna looked away, but I held a hoof to her chin and turned her back to look at me. "Let us renew this oath, here and now. None of us will speak of this magic again, and only Luna herself will practice it."

Twilight nodded vigorously, while Luna just blinked slowly at me and raised her hoof to touch mine.

"I swear," all three Princesses said in unison.

Alright, I thought, summoning the well of optimism in myself as large across as the sun. Preventing the proliferation of oneiromancy could be chalked up as another wonderful thing. These years were still the best of my life, and I would keep it that way, in any way I could.

Author's Note

if you're sad, just read the story again but skip chapter 2 and 3. what a lovely story of twilight finding romance, overcoming shame, and learning new magic!

mixed feelings on this one tbh. i set out to do a few things: extend character voice to the narrative (hence first person), make my prose a little less wooden, and wring a little more emotion out of the characters. i think i did pretty well on the first, made a little progress on the second, and fell short on the third. i guess i'll try to let the emotions run a little hotter in the oneshot i've got cooking now!

originally, this story was going to be much more lighthearted - same concept, but instead just focusing on the delightful awkwardness of "twilight thinks she's dating luna, luna is confused/flustered/interested". but then i got distracted by Magicks, and twilight got distracted by Magicks, and it didn't go well.

i think an ongoing motif of my work is definitely... i had an image of one of those "I LOVE it when MY WIFE lets me play the banjo" but edited it to "I LOVE it when TWILIGHT SPARKLE makes bad decisions" but i couldn't figure out how to upload it. alas

and i know what you're thinking. so many loose ends! how long until celestia figured out what really happened? realistically like, a few days lol. they have millennia of inside jokes between them. but what happens then? i do have an idea for a sequel that i might tackle sometime, but for now i'm happy to leave this where it's landed.

next up: i've been thinking about chrysalis a lot