The Diarchal Advisor

Diarchal Advisor Arnon | Canterlot Castle

Arnon's boot-clicks carry him down the quiet, mid-morning halls. Pink glow is finally fading from the horizon as the sun continues it's inevitable rise... about Ten o'clock, he reckons.

Did he totally ditch Bulwark, faking him out with the classic dip-in-dip-out of the kitchen?

Yes.

Did he have a good reason to leave Bulwark sweating and racing around, as he tries to find his missing charge?

...Nope.

Arnon kind of just did it because he could. Sorry Bulwark, but it was a quiet day so far, and he'd been getting bored. The whole broken arm thing deigned Arnon to getting whatever degree of amusement he could, since he was still barred from more strenuous activities.

One arm slung to his chest (long fucking recovery), the other behind his back, his gaze flits over the ever-impressive stonework and stained glass that mark every layer of this impressive build. Hard to get used to it. Canterlot Castle was a bold statement to the testament of Pony craft work, even the simplest of out-of-sight staff halls.

...He passes a sleepy black-and-blue Thestral guard, napping at his station. His helmet's askew, blocking half his face as he snores. Stationed in front of an impressive archway, designed to match it's owner. Looks like he wandered into Luna's wing. Probably time to turn around.

...But the guard is asleep. And he is kind of on a hot streak of bring a little shit. You know, on account of the arm and the boredom. And Tia wasn't set to visit him for a while... all very good excuses to lean on if he gets in trouble.

Lips pursed deviously, Arnon creeps past the snoozing guard, stepping over his dropped spear, trying to look like he walks with a purpose to any that might see him.

Time for a little mid-day night-wing snooping.

Diarchal Advisor Arnon | Princess Luna's Wing, Canterlot Castle

The halls were styled to be darker in tone. The windows are smaller, the walls decorated with some kind of... vine-growing purple flowers. Numerous sconces line the wall, all currently quiet and cold. The ceilings are lower.

... He'd been here before, of course, but not unsupervised. Even as the Diarchal Advisor, the wings were dedicated to each Princess, their belongings... their secrets. It's where they tended to spend their private time.

There's a guard, a lightly-colored Thestral that glances at him, dozy and confused. A simple, confident nod has them stand down. He was already inside -- so obviously he belonged, right?

Mwehehe. Didn't help Luna tried to keep all her Thestrals in charge of everything Luna. Poor things got real sleepy during the day hours, even the ones more used to day-shifts.

So far... a lot more paintings than Celestia's Day-Wing. Gorgeous landscapes, often depicting the darker hours of the day, and a single Pony often bearing witness to them. Even busts, forming some recognizable historical ponies, some not. Tapestries too. Luna was quite the artist.

Ooh, her personal Armory; a fancy doorway bequeathed with crossed swords and a banner bearing her cutie-mark. She'd always been a martial mare, even in these modern-pony times. Probably locked though.

Ooh, it wasn't. Grinning, Arnon slips inside.

...

Well, her collection of Weapons and Armors continued to impress. A long, dimly lit stone hallway with minimal windows, likely for moisture control. They were well maintained, and she had a good variety. She had a few suits of armor, typically designed for the time period, aligned from older to recent. Her weapons did the same, and she seemed to have no preference. Racks of swords, spears, halberds... not much in the way of shields though. Makes sense, when you can just magic yourself a bubble for protection.

He debates on taking something... no, he shouldn't.

Ooh, tiny dagger. That'd fit in his boot.

...Okay, that might be a bit much. Snooping, sure. Taking? He's going too far into gremlin territory. Time to reel it back.

But maybe she wouldn't miss just one dagger.

...

Her paintings were amazing as always, Arnon slowly passing another incredibly elaborate landscape of the castle during an eclipse. Luna always worked on massive canvases, intent on crafting giant works.

Slowly, quietly, he strolls. He's deeper into Luna's wing than he's ever been before, and passed by the odd guard or two. Same thing... polite nod, they go back to trying their absolute best to stay awake.

The decoration actually starts to get sparse. Spartan, even, with most of the walls being bare, mind for slots for torch sconces. The windows are simple panes. Even the floor has rounded out from artistically-placed stonework to... near perfectly flat.

It kind of feels... alien.

Actually made it a little harder to tell where he was, with the lack of landmarks.

Oh, those are some massive double doors. As big as the ones for Celestia's bedroom.

Oh. That's where he is. Luna's bedroom.

Arnon purses his lips, glancing around. Well, he may have meandered a smidge too far. Time for a quiet exit.

Arnon quietly passes by her bedroom, where she's no doubt sleeping. He's had his fun snooping her wing of the castle, without escort; time to skedaddle before he gets scolded by the colder of the Princess-tral pair.

...He pauses, neck craning. He heard something as he passed her bedroom doors.

No, Arnon, get out of there.

...But you've got the arm. That's a powerful excuse. But it's Luna. She'd probably break the other one if she found him poking around.

But then Tia might double-dote on him. Probably not, since this one would actually be his fault.

...Okay, maybe a little more snooping. Just the tiniest smidge. Find out what that noise is, and begone with you. Flee to safer pastures, arm unbroken.

Slowly, watching his footwork, Arnon creeps closer to the door, hovering near it. Waiting. Listening.

...

Mumbles. A huff? She sounds... distressed.

It's getting close to noon. She's bound to be asleep... hopefully it's not something weird.

Carefully, Arnon presses his ear to the solid, featureless wooden doors.

"Mm...no... nary again... never... we... we shall not..."

The mental image of Luna having a nightmare like a Dog, huffing and running in her sleep comes to mind, cracking a bemused grin on Arnon's face. Was the Princess of Dreams having a nightmare? There was probably a funny joke to be made out of that... but something had him put Big Funny away for the moment.

That was weird. Luna, with Nightmares? Was that normal? Well, Luna had BEEN Nightmares before, but... hm. The Princesses were complex... and he was still getting to know Luna. Unlike Tia, who he hung out with regularly, even during the night he spent only scant hours with her. He was pretty sure she was warming up to him... a little bit. Didn't want to damage what little rapport he had with her.

~~...Probably best to leave it, and her to her sleep, no matter how restless.~~

For a single moment, Arnon's eyes flash a pale, soft orange.

That's not what he wants to do.

Instead, quietly and slowly, Arnon's hand grasps the simple door-handle, checking if it's locked.

~~The door rattles ever so softly, confirming his suspicions. Attempt failed, time to go.~~

The door clicks softly, opening ever so slightly with a soft creak. It is unlocked.

...Arnon blinks a few times, unaware of his eyes hue-change. What was he doing? Oh, Luna's door is unlocked. Odd, she seemed the type to keep it firmly shut. Well... since he'd already found it opened...

He can still hear her murmur in the dark room, a pang of empathy in his chest. Maybe... just checking on her wouldn't hurt. Right? She's probably dead asleep. Probably pushing a proper smiting here, but being their Advisor meant taking a few risks to help them out.

The Forbidden Archives

In the dim darkness of the Forbidden Archives, deep in Canterlot's library, a familiar tome recently drained of it's overflowing power now thrums softly, making a dull pulsing sound. It's thickly-bound cover traces softly with faded orange light, seeping from its bindings.

One. A Gift, for Knowledge.

The clasp on the tome slowly comes undone within it's glass container, tapping the wall as it flips to an empty page.

On one side of the page, the slow scrawling of a simple depiction of a sleeping Princess Luna forms, very simplified, not too unlike some of the older artworks that depict the sisters. Beside her, an equally designed Arnon kneels attentively. There is no quill, no pen, but pitch-black ink appears nonetheless. It details a little of the bedroom, before the drawings stop.

The other side of the page... begins to scrawl a lengthy and descriptive entry about the Big Bang and the creation of the Universe, the merging of materials and the sudden, explosive expansion of how all things began. All written at a rate far faster than any living creature might write it. The eventual heat-death of planets near the sun, how galaxies will slowly drift apart as the universe continues to expand forever. Information known to only one entity in this realm. Now, two.

How ~~this~~ a Universe was born, and how ~~this~~ a Universe will grow old.

~~The Tome~~ The Numeranomicon is content with this new information, not borne of Equus.

The scribbling upon it's parchment lasts for some time, muffled in it's glass container, alone, deep in the archives.

Snooper Arnon | Princess Luna's Bedroom

Arnon rubs the back of his head, one of his eyes squinting as he carefully creeps inside. Felt like he had a headache brewing, and like he forgot something in his room. A quick pat-down affirms he's got all his things. Odd.

The door creaks ever so quietly, re-catching his attention as Arnon presses inside. The door slowly shuts, clicking closed.

It's a very large bedroom. The same size as Celestia's, but... bare. Like, nearly empty.

Smooth, open floor. Smooth, sheer walls. Pillars braced against them, that feel more like obelisks than proper support.

If he was a betting man... he might say this room may be heavily moon-inspired. He had no basis for it, but knowing what little he did of Luna, from both herself and Twilight... he could see it. Bringing a little chunk of moon-aesthetic with her.

He had to admit, it was kind of a vibe.

The only details come in the massive, blanket and pillow covered bed that sits perfectly in the middle, the large canvas and painting supplies that sit against one wall, the marking of her cutie mark on the rounded ceiling, and a massive, ornate mirror opposite of the canvas, across the room.

It's difficult to make any of that out, and near impossible to see anything else. It's incredibly dark, thick curtains covering as much as possible, hiding away her sisters glaring sun.

It really felt bare. Open. Empty. Alien was a word that just kept coming to his mind. Celestia liked stuff. Her room was packed with decorations, furniture, objects, everything. Luna didn't really seem to? Which didn't seem right, since she had stuff laid about in other rooms and halls.

"We shalt... never... no, sister... not again..." Arnon hears, muffled deep under the mounds of cushions and plush blankets that form a pile on the bed. Luna is likely buried under there... somewhere.

Arnon takes a cautious step.

Clack. Shit. He tenses... nothing. She doesn't stir.

He tries again.

Clack. Fuck. Alright, bare feet it is.

Taking off his boots, silently, with one arm, is not a fun time. He's treated to a few more distressed murmers, as Luna twists and turns, mounds of pillows shifting with her. There's already a pile of them around the base of the bed, all spilled from her troubled rest.

Much quieter, his foot-slaps carry him towards the bed, creeping to its side.

Sure enough, there's the Princess of the Night. Ethereal mane subdued by laying down, dark-blue fur bristled in her distress, face scrunched tight. She definitely doesn't look comfortable. Arnon quietly takes in her asleep form as he kneels to the bedside.

She's on her back, half-covered in a thick blanket, variously shaped and colored pillows awkwardly stuffed under her head, hooves, sides -- somepony has been tossing and turning something fierce. Her fur is slightly matted, and looks sweaty -- as does her mane, lacking its usual bounce. Still, it swirls like the night sky, but it's not as impressive as it usually is.

Her typically stoic, cold expression is filled with discomfort, squinted eyes and curled lips. Every few moments or so, her breathing gets heavier, and she twitches.

"We... would never, sister... do not... no..." Luna mutters, strained, one of her hooves idly kicking. "Twilight, don't..."

Arnon gives it plenty of space, well aware of the power behind that leg. A simple glance at his own bandaged and slung arm reminds him plenty.

Arnon sighs softly, watching her. He wasn't quite sure what was going through that noggin, but... well, he could either keep staring at her, or he could try something. And Arnon only has about one reliable move here to try.

His good hand slowly reaches out during one of her more still moments. She twitches, making him flinch back for a moment... but she quiets again, murmuring.

Carefully... Arnon's hand gently meets the side of her discomforted face, fingers trailing through softly sweat-slicked, trim fur. Feels familiar... has he pet her before?

With tenderness, his thumb slowly strokes her cheek, his palm providing a warm anchor. He watches her face, to both gauge her reaction, and keep an eye out for any sudden, potentially painful movements.

She seems to... shiver, at the contact, her muttering and murmuring turning to unintelligible whispers, as she surprisingly quickly leans against his hand. In but a moment, it's tucked between her pillow and her face, as she shifts to sleep on her side.

Princess Luna

Unstable, wisping shades that reminisce of the Elements billow as they near. She's pinned to the wall, nowhere else to go, heart slamming against her chest in fear.

Twilight, eyes aglow, her horn rupturing in brilliantly cruel light, launches a spell at her. It sears her flesh, burns her fur -- Luna screams, as the others offer their gift in turn, only strengthening the spell.

It's a painful, cruel barrage, as it sears her body in it's billowing light.

Behind them all, the billowing mane and white-fur of her sisters' form watches, a harsh glare levied at her.
"I cannot believe you, Luna. To think, I opened my heart to you again... only for you to betray me once more. Never again. I will rule alone, as I have done for a thousand years... as I will do for a thousand more." The voice calls, heavy and firm. "Perhaps another thousand of your own, back upon the moon, will do you good..."

Luna tenses, flinching, terrified as her sister's horn glows.

And yet, these Nightmares are a creation of her own. Though she is unaware in the moment, her own artifact hovers above, feeding off the fear, and fueling the cruelty in kind.

The Tantabus. A small, pitch-black orb that softly swirls with night magic. Created as a form of penance, to torture herself in the night, to ensure that for what she had done, she would never know the restful sleep that she grants to the ponies of Equestria. That is what she deserves... for attempting to subject them all to an eternal night.

It's quiet.

For a moment, Luna's fear deepens with the pit that forms in her stomach, shuddering. Terrified to be back on the moon, left alone for another thousand years...

But when she opens her eyes, she's sat in the royal garden. Flowing, soft grass... violet and purple flowers bloomed under the moon's glow, a small, bee-like creature with a blue stripe, instead of a yellow one, idly bumbling between the flora.

The gentlest breeze sweeps through the hedges and rows, the fountain trickling distantly.

It's... peaceful. Quiet. The rustling of leaves, the light smell of... she's not familiar with that scent. But it is... comforting.

Her heart beats steadily, mind at ease. Luna's thoughts... enjoying the quiet night.

Distantly, a group of Thestrals fly by, cresting past the moon. Even deep into the night, there's still a quiet bustle. Luna sighs, eyes wistful as they stare into the starry night sky.

Petting The Blorse Arnonamorse | Luna's Bedroom

Over the course of... well, it's hard to count just how long, Arnon has slowly stroked and pet the fur of this blue horse. Slowly, Luna seems to have calmed down some. Her breathing is a much more even pace, her barrel rising with a calm rhythm. Her face looks far more rested, and much less strained. She still lays on her side, nestled into her pillows.

While he had no idea what quite caused that little episode, Arnon nods to himself. Alright, Princess calmed. That was probably excusable as an Advisatorial duty, right?

Eh, bit of a stretch. Good time to bounce. He got his good deed in and felt good about it, even if the inception of said deed was born of... devious snooping.

Slowly sliding his hand out from under her face, Arnon starts to rise out of his knelt stance, ready to creep over to his waiting boots.

A deep, shimmering blue encircles him. The whole him. A quick side-glance affirms the Princesses horn is glowing. Ah, shit.

He's promptly wrenched onto the bed, landing hard on the incredibly plush furnishings -- before promptly being wrapped in hooves, hugged close by a softly snoring, INCREDIBLY soft-feeling Princess.

Arnon is stock still, lips pursed. Well, this was probably worst case scenario. Or close, at least.

He was scheduled around Celestia for this week, too. Up and disappearing to... cuddle with her sister?

Scandalous.

...Well, she was incredibly soft, if a little damp. And she's nuzzling into his neck now burying her snout under his chin. Somehow, he's not getting impaled by that massive horn, so that's a plus. This is pretty cute. Honestly, she doesn't look quite as intimidating as when she's asleep. She looks cute.

Wow, she has a really fucking strong grip. She's not crushing him, but Arnon ain't going fucking anywhere, a few testing wriggles only getting him pulled closer.

Alright. He'd just take his scolding, and possible execution tonight like a man. Not like he had much choice in the matter, now.

He sighs softly, face scrunched.

...This was pretty warm.

...And Luna was pretty soft.

...And pretty cute.

He probably had a few hours to wait. It wasn't even noon when he started snooping, and he hadn't been here for too long. It might be a long day.

Luna stirs softly, pressing further up against him. He's as buried in fur as he is in blankets.

It's not really a surprise, but the lull of sleep eventually comes for Arnon, who really had no chance to rebuke it.

Princess Luna, Diarch of Equestria | Luna's Bedroom

There's little need for an alarm clock or to schedule a wake-up, when you're one of the Diarchal Princesses. Their very nature was tied to the magic that drew from the celestial bodies, meaning she'd always awaken when the moon needed to rise.

For the first time in many days, however, Princess Luna feels... refreshed. It's an odd sensation. So used to the Tantabus, subjecting herself to a self-inflicted penance for her jealous slip a thousand years prior, that grumpy awakenings were the norm.

What changed?

She... could not sense the Tantabus in it's usual place. It was close, but she no longer felt it's energies within herself. Then where...?

As she further rises from drowsiness, she realizes something. There's an unusual weight in her bed... and this is a strangely firm pillow in her hooves grasp.

A deep-blue glow slowly entraptures the numerous curtains that encircle the bedroom, sliding them aside, clinking as they settle. Moonlight, ever familiar, spills into the room and splashes across the smooth, grey floors.

...She does not sleep alone.

The blush that creeps across her snout, and her cheeks, grows vibrant in realization. She's practically wrapped herself around their Royal Advisor, his own arm gently tucked into her mane. When did this happen? How did this happen? She made no such efforts. She --

Luna pauses, blinking. The flush still clear on her face, she slowly inches her nose close to him, taking a quiet, close sniff against his neck.

...That was the comforting scent of her dreams? Him? What?

Her horn glows softly, investigating.

The Tantabus... is in his dreams. Faust. Her eyes flare with worry and anger. The fool, he...

Sleeps soundly, his paced breathing only broken by an idle snore. The situation continued to confuse. The Tantubus is made to torment. To punish. And it looks like he's been here a while...

She carefully lowers her horn to his forehead, as it pulses with her magic. Magic that was hers, and hers alone, as the Princess Of Dreams.

She reaches into his dreams, or what should be his Nightmares, to see the brand of havoc that the Tantabus wreaks upon him.

Arnon's Dream

Luna quietly blinks, as the scene before her settles out of a hazy fog. She watches from a distance, hidden behind a pillar.

Arnon stands alone, hands in his pockets. He lacks the broken limb, looking fairly healthy and whistling to himself. He glances around, seeming to just be... looking at things. Waiting. He seems... content. The distance is but a foggy haze of some forgettable forest, but the location seems to be some amalgamation of Canterlot Castle's design. An open, ceilingless plaza, partially ruins, with open walls and crumbling bricks.

Until shadows rise from the cracks between the stonework, the moon slowly shifting to bear it's full focus upon him.

Blackness seeps and oozes forward, slowly taking a dangerously familiar shape that catches Luna's breath. A creature of pitch-black fur, jagged fangs, and a cruel sneer. A creature she had once been herself.

"My torments seem to balk in your steadfast resilience... so I ask you a final time, Human. Dost thou still refuse to yield? To submit?" Nightmare Moon snarls, prowling around Arnon. They're stood in the middle of the a wide, stoney plaza... no such room exists in the castle, but it bears a similar styling. Luna's ears flatten against her head as she hears that haunting tone.

"Yeah, sorry, but submitting isn't really my thing." Arnon shrugs, not bothering trying to keep aface with her.

Why is he so calm? The way Nightmare speaks... how long has this been going on? Was he aware it was a dream? The Tantabus should negate lucidity.

"And yet you so dutifully serve the False Princesses... a little liar, you are." It sneers, beginning to close in on him. Hoof and hoof, wings unfurled, like a predator stalking prey.

"False? I dunno, I think raising the Sun and Moon kind of validates them. But... my servitude doesn't exactly equal... submission, you know." Arnon retorts, smiling. His head is rolled back, his posture casual.

"Your weak bluffs and fervent glazing mean little, in this domain. Now... I will have you watch, as you suffer, alive and helpless. As I feast." Nightmare Moon is upon him, towering over him, inches away, looming. Her mane and tail ebb and sweep around him, like a snake coiling around it's meal.

Her maw slowly opens, revealing rows of jagged, dagger-like teeth, and a long tongue that slithers over them. She slowly leans forward, moving her face closer to his, like she's about to bite his very head off. Luna knows it is but a dream, but she feels her breath catch nonetheless. To see... herself, torture another. She should act quickly. The Tantabus was geared for her -- not a mortal.

Or she would have, until one of Arnon's own hands reach up to touch Nightmare's cheek, cupping it. And his face pushes closer on it's own, and he --

-- Licks her teeth. His own tongue traces over the ridges of her saw-like flesh tearers, pushing himself close enough that his own chest touches her barrel.

Both Luna and Nightmare Moon's eyes go wide.

"Small problem with that approach. I've got a pretty solid kink for powerful and dangerous women... or, Mares in this case. And I'm not particularly... submissive." He whispers, holding his face close to hers, dangerously close to her mouth.

"W-wh--" Nightmare blinks, confused. "I am Nightmare Moon! Ponies shiver in fear at my arrival, t-they--"

His hand slowly trace down her neck, burying into her dark fur, the other held firm to her face. Nightmare stiffens, completely caught off guard by the surprise assault. And Arnon doesn't let up.

"Oh, believe me, I know. But... not a pony. Now, while I might not submit, per se... I might not be as much of a Harmony-Loving goody-two-shoes as you might expect... I think we could find a measure of... servitude, between us, that would suit us both." Arnon whispers, leaning closer to her ear. His other hand is tracing along her back, his fingers pressing through the gaps in her armor.

Nightmare seems to snap out of her daze at his roaming hand, lashing out quickly. In a moment, she has her teeth pressed against his neck, the tips pressing his bare skin. Luna stifles a gasp as Arnon holds still.

"You tread a dangerous road, creature. There is naut but pain and agony down this path..." Nightmare snarls, breath hot on his flesh.

Oh so slowly, Arnon's head turns to meet her gaze. But there's not a flicker of fear in his eyes. Only sheer... is that arousal?
"You should've seen what I got out of a broken arm from Tia. Believe me... I can handle the danger, the pain... But I'm curious to see if you can handle the pleasure..." He retorts, practically purring as his hands refuse to stop. Luna's face is practically an entirely new shade of blue... and Nightmare's is following suit.

This was egregiously erotic, if the tenting of Arnon's pants and Nightmare's pointed wings didn't make that clear. His... unique approach to his own nightmares aside, Luna quickly glances around for the Tantabus. If she could recapture it, she might be able to...

She purses her lips, stealing a glance back down in the plaza. She could only hope his distractions lasted long enough to...

Oh.

They're undressing each other roughly, throwing clothes and armor aside, tongues aggressively exploring each others mouths.

Luna quickly looks away. Watching... an evil version of herself do such felt... dirty. It was slowly becoming clear that his condition, or willpower, or something else entirely was allowing him to rebuff the Tantabus. Sure, a few ponies have had... erotic situations ensuing that she's peered upon during her nightly duties, but this was... her, in a twisted sense. It felt weird to watch herself tongue-battle the 'Stallion' she currently lay in bed with.

And she can't exactly say it wouldn't pan out like this, if it was happening outside of a dream. If it was... her, for real.

She shakes her head free of such thoughts.

She'd investigate later -- The Tantabus -- on more neutral ground. For now, she will leave this dream. She has a Moon to raise, and Arnon seems capable of handling himself against the Tantabus for now.

Her horn glows as she prepares to leave...

But she remains. Her eyes widen, as the spell fizzles and sputters.

The Tantabus. Part of it's spell was it made escaping dreams extremely difficult... a condition of her own making, to ensure she couldn't subconsciously escape her own punishments.

This was now severely backfiring. It would take her time to calculate a proper exit spell, to counter the Tantabus' latent defence... which meant, several minutes of listening to...

Oh, Faust, Luna can hear Nightmare start to moan. Does she dare steal a glance...?

...Oh. So he doesn't mind doing that with his mouth?

Her head quickly whips forward again. She needed to work fast, if the fluttery, jittery feeling in her stomach was anything to go by.

Arnon of Wet Dreams | Luna's Bedroom

Arnon snorts awake, blinking several times. He felt groggy. That... was a damn good sleep.

Wait. Sleep?

Shit. Luna. The Princess. The Princess whose bed he was in.

Arnon slowly side-eyes, expecting a furious glare followed by a bright beam of smiting. But the bed is empty, a Luna-shaped dent notably lacking a Luna to fill it.

The curtains are drawn. It's well past evening... ah, shit. He missed well over half his day, and now he'd slept into the night.

...Which meant Luna awoke to him, and left him on her bed, unsmote. That was a pretty big deal, considering it's Luna.

Oh, there's a letter sticking out of his sling. It's a little difficult to open with one arm, but a liberal usage of his teeth helps.

Let's see... what morbid execution was lined up for him...

"Arnon, our Advisor. Your surprise presence was a... conflicting comfort. While it shalt be tolerated this time, avoid arriving unannounced into our chambers for the foreseeable future. Instead, we shalt orchestrate proper evenings bequeathed to invitation. Also, thou now seems to behold our Tantabus, a magic creation that subjects the user to Nightmares, for the sake of... penance. We would be more worried, but a short peek into thou's dreams has assured us that even Nightmare Moon does little more than... rouse you, in a particular fashion.

Once thee was awoken, and our duties for thine night are complete... we wouldst enjoy a conversation regarding a few key topics, such as thee Tantabus, and... thou's intentions towards us. Yours, ~~Prin~~ Luna."

Oh, shit.

Wait, what did she mean by rouse? Arnon goes to shift out of the bed, but notices a... sticky spot.

He had a wet dream in a Princesses' bed. In the Princess of Dreams bed. Jesus Christ. The fuck had he been dreaming about? Had she seen it? Seems like it. And seems like it was... saucy.

Well, he had the excuse that it was this... Tantabus thing. He squints, glancing up.

A little black orb swirls above him, slowly fading over the course of several minutes. Oh, that must be the Tantabus. Alright. Oh, hold on, there's more...

"...P.S, thou Day-Charge, Bulwark, ist furious, and our Sister beholds questions to thou's lacking presence. We wilst say little... but play thy cards well, if thee wishes to ~~survive~~ avoid punishment. We wish thee luck."

Ah, shit.

"...P.P.S. Return the dagger."

Aw, shit.