The One Where Luna Pees the Bed

Luna has woken up, face down, in a pool of her own urine. As she pushes herself up, drops of pee are shaken loose from her damp neck. It has been years, actual millennia, since she last embarrassed herself in this manner. The feeling, however, remains familiar as if she was still the same bed wetting filly she had been all those lifetimes ago. Her bedding, it would seem, is near water proof. This proves to be a mixed blessing. Without permeable fabric to bleed into, the piss has nowhere to go besides her own coat. The princess is completely drenched in her own mess, a puddle of un-absorbed pee surrounding her. She is torn between profound embarrassment and a strange desire to remain in its warmth. After such a harrowing dream, it feels almost comforting, like a liquid hug.

Gradually, the warmth fades, and a cold reality sets in. Luna realizes she will have to inform the guards. The thought alone sends her heart racing. She can't claim to have ever been well respected, beyond the pleasantries her royalty demanded from those in her presence, but this would ruin her. Once the rumor mill turned, the whole world would grow cruel around her. Every eye in Equestria would cast a harsh leer, every whisper another voice in the chorus of mockery she must endure. She'd be forced each day to confront the plain truth about herself: she was an embarrassment to her people and a sorry excuse for a princess, serving them best when she was hidden from sight.

All of this worrying was absurd though. She can trust her guardsmen not to let slip her horrible secret. They would mock her within the walls of the castle, sure, but they would never seek to shame their princess in the eyes of her public. She calls two in from the hall, and begins to draw herself a bath as they set about the task of cleaning up her royal mess. Their stern expressions do little to assuage her fear, but at the very least she can say she isn't being openly mocked. She can live with the quiet, implied, sort of judgement. She always has.

Her bath is now ready for her. She steps in and a new, clean, warmth soaks her fur. Just for a moment, she almost feels at peace. This does not last. An acrid scent finds its way to her nostril and she realizes that, scrub as she might, the smell of urine will not leave her. If she can not perish the reek of her shame, then a paltry attempt to mask it must suffice. As her bath drains, Luna towels off in front of her vanity and emits a long sigh. Without a dry bed of her own to sleep in, there is only one path forward to reach a good night's rest.

Remaining in front of her vanity, Luna takes a moment to contemplate the many bruises her already weathered ego has endured tonight, and the further battery it will be made to endure. To ask her older sister to share her bed would be humiliating under any pretense, but especially after wetting herself. She felt the phantom pain of an imagined scolding, Celestia's sharp tongue piercing sternum and sinew to rasp against her frail heart.

Luna reasons that if she must meet her sister tonight as a scared filly in spirit, she may benefit from putting on an affected sort of neoteny. She pouts at herself in the mirror, trying her best to look every bit as vulnerable as she feels in this moment. She would rather be pitied by her sister than the subject of open contempt, she thinks. Shooting one last miserable look, she steels herself and sets off for her sisters chambers, the scent of her own pee in dogged pursuit.