Statues lined the area around her. She wasn't sure how she hadn't seen them before.

As her body stilled, it was almost like the world itself had expanded around her. Deprived of movement, of any fight as her body desperately tried to well up any magic it could find to keep her immortal body alive... The stillness finally let her see. To use every sense she neglected, so long ago...

Every fleck of magic wasted, drifting into the breeze, would eventually sink into the surface of this place. Into her visage, painted on the moon.

It allowed her a sight, if only for a moment. Anything that touched this place was her's. Her own kingdom, her own jail, her own sanctuary where she was finally among the most valuable things alive.

Those statues, though, seemed to know her pain. If only for a brief moment, so, so long ago.

Banishment wasn't a thought she lingered on too long in the past. To her, it was a part of a foal's bedtime story- some message to fear the unicorns, and what they do to good and bad ponies alike. Though usually, to the bad ponies at the end of a fable... Or the good ponies, at the end of a story of war between ponykind.

They always spoke of statues, that was what a banishment was. Sent somewhere far, far away, where they would become some symbol of torment for their misdeeds.

She hadn't ever really thought it through, never cared to think if a fable was based on a fact.

She always thought it was like Discord- frozen, and then sent away to await their imprisonment forever.

But the moon was covered in statues.

And the moon was always the threat.

It truly was banishment, wasn't it?

It was one-way.

It always had been.

She was simply too much a fool to question it. She always was too passive, wasn't she... And now as punishment for stepping out of place, here she was. Forced into passivity forever.

She deserved it after all.

Even if... Even if she just...

She wanted to be loved.

She wanted to be appreciated.

She didn't want to feel so alone.

She didn't want to look upon her sister and feel jealous.

She hated how she felt.

She hated how the world she made wasn't for her.

She hated how she gave up the ability to die so others could thrive.

And now?

Now she understood why trying to speak up never worked.

Now she understood why fighting back was a folly.

Now she understood why they neglected her night.

Because she was the counterpart. To Celestia's Sun, she was the Moon.

As she was adored, she was to be hated.

It all made a sobering amount of sense.

And yet she hated that, too.

Hate. It was a funny thing. Borne from overwhelming love, and yet destructive in a way that it could only hope to be. It burnt, it hurt even more inside the depths of her chest, and yet no matter how much she tried to thrash... she wouldn't move.

This was her penance.

To be another statue among many; but to be the statue that paid the price.

It was funny. How it all began. Equestria was once a place she loved, where with her sister she founded a beautiful place, that would rule forevermore, in the name of ponykind.

She remembered the adoration, the love, those who would pledge themselves not only to her sister, but her.

She remembers the letters, proclaiming their love. She remembers returning the letters with a snark. She remembers the crowd cheering their names, and she remembers cheering back in her loudest of voices.

But then, the weariness came. Everything became routine. The cheers weren't as loud, and the faces were new.

With time, as they got used to their powers, they would find an illness or a crisis to be more of a concern than the magic they were gifted.

It was funny. She always thought trading a day, where a sister would raise both of the celestial objects, was a harmless thing. Ponies could see them both doing it, and it would be an assurance that even if one were to fall, whether temporary or permanently, their rulers would never abandon them. To illness, to lead an army... To never doom more unicorns to die or lose what made them special for the price of raising the sun, and moon, through every beautiful day and night.

That there would never need to be a sacrifice again, so long as they stood.

She remembers the work she did, behind the throne. The paperwork her sister hated, the laws she drafted and the judgements she carried through. It all made sense back then; Celestia was a pony-pony, and hated to sit down. Luna was far shyer, and loved to pick through a good book. It all fit, like the sun and moon itself. One in the light, one in the shadow. A balance respected in nature, now respected in rule.

Awash in praise and love, her sister became the definition of 'Equestria.' A land of plenty and progress, a true god of a new age. And there Luna was, working quietly to make sure their utopia lived. The definition of a foundation, to build their nation upon.

But then, the times changed. The sisters traded responsibilities as they always had, they knew they could stand alone, even if they preferred to stand together. But it was better that way. What is true love, if not two individuals who can stand by themselves, coming together to be even stronger than they were alone? Their sistership was beautiful. Even if not bound by blood, they were bound in spirit. And that's all she needed.

And then the jokes came. That she never showed her face. That if they both could raise the sun and moon, was Luna doing it at all? She never made a show of it, like her sister did every summer sun's... It was all in good fun, she even laughed back then... Told the jokes, in spite of herself, in some of the only appearances she made. In its own irony, usually in the same celebrations that involved her sister flaunting her sun.

She was content to ignore it when it got too annoying. Stars above knew her sister fought it when it did. At first...

Generations passed in the blink of an eye to memory; a life immortality brought was a life where faces passed in blurs, and moments were important or they were not. The anatomy of the mind itself perhaps being her greatest enemy; what was not important, was eventually discarded in the washes of gray matter.

But then the jokes became facts. The games became serious. The mirth became straight.

She barely remembered when it did change. But she remembers the looks on their faces. Or rather, the feelings around them.

'We don't need you.'

She remembers it hurting. She remembers the systems they had built to restrict their own powers clamping down on her. She remembers the work she did being stolen from her, everything slowly collapsing in on itself. Even as she welcomed some of it, the busywork to keep an immortal from going mad, even that went away.

She was to be a smiling face, but without the spotlight of Celestia, nor the tasks they shared any longer. After all... She was useless.

It was funny; so much time passed before it went wrong. But then it did. It felt like it happened all at once, but... It would, wouldn't it, as the boredom consumed her, and her heart sank deeper and deeper.

But it didn't. It was slow, it was painful, and every step was never enough for her to raise her voice against it.

But eventually, some things changed. Age-defining moments occurred, and she was brought to the front of it.

She perhaps only realised now, how much those events had shaken her.

The Crystal Empire was not kind on anypony; Not her, not her sister, before it disappeared.

Maybe it made it worse. Maybe the swirls of dark magic there not only got into her head, but made Celestia realise how useless her sister was too.

Maybe it was already that bad, and she had finally been knocked from the denial she had surrounded herself in.

Maybe she finally noticed the coldness in her eyes. Maybe she finally noticed that her lack of fight had truly, finally, made her useless.

...

Everything ached, and it was cold.

It felt like she was stuck in a stack of needles.

She wanted to go home.

She wanted to cry.

But she couldn't do anything, anymore.

All she had left... was to think. Whatever curse placed upon her didn't allow her to gain an ounce of magic for longer than a second, there was no fight left to her. Just trickles, barely enough to keep her alive.

And so, think she did.

It was all she did.

Every fantasy, every regret, everything...

It was cold, it was lonely, and it was here.

There was nothing left to give. Her mind had run out of thoughts, if only eventually. She never thought it possible, in an eternal life to find something beyond boring; to find a point where all the experiences she had ever had could no longer create something new from the creative depths of her mind.

But she had found it.

In eleven-thousand sunrises on this place, her mind had simply ran out of ideas. Out of scenarios to tell. She didn't even sleep. There was no point to it. The stories were her escape, until they weren't anymore.

She never quite believed that true creativity was not possible. That new ideas were born from the intake of others solely, that in truth all knowledge was simply elaborate fanfiction from observations of the natural world... But eventually, she had to acknowledge, maybe there was some truth to that.

It was peaceful, almost. Nothing ever changed here, aside from the dusts. If it weren't for the magic itself refusing to allow her body to be entombed, perhaps she as well would simply fade away into them. To become one with the grand dunes here.

It felt comfortable almost. With every wisp of a phantom solar 'wind,' she felt the skin of this place. Every change, every shift, every night and every day... it was an extension of her. It was a part of her.

And it always had been.

...

Madness had passed more than once, reality itself bent in countless ways.

But now? Now she was happy to stop thinking.

It was better than the hate.

The one thing, despite all her sadness, she couldn't ever shake.

How could somepony do this to another?

She didn't know.

But she wanted to go home.

...

And perhaps, that's why it was best to stop thinking. It was best to stop hoping.

At least then, she could discover a modicum of peace.

Perhaps, for a bit, silence could reign. This time, her own choice.

Author's Note

There was nothing left to give. Her mind had run out of thoughts, if only eventually. She never thought it possible, in an eternal life to find something beyond boring; to find a point where all the experiences she had ever had could no longer create something new from the creative depths of her mind.

Kars moment
I am so sorry for undercutting that with a joke-