Princess Luna, of the Moon of Equinius, previous co-ruler of Equestria and current dream realm warden, previously Nightmare Moon and the sister of Princess Celestia, of the Sun of Equinius and previous co-ruler of Equestria, was not having a good day.

It had started out as relatively normal. A lay-in — British term for spending a larger chunk of the morning in bed than usual, often done at weekends when there is no work to be done — until eleven in the morning, and the smell of her sister's pancakes hits her after she wakes up.

Of course, Princess Luna is not a morning person and never was even back when she was younger, owing to her cutie mark and general affinity for the night.

(Her sister was the complete and total opposite - getting up at the crack of dawn, perhaps also owing to the mark on her flank and her affinity for the daylight.)

(How funny, then, that at least two of her sister's students had names of the time that was between the sun's mighty and warm reign and the moon's peaceful and calm overview.)

Princess Luna, of course, is over a thousand years old. This, naturally, does not stop her from begging for five more minutes in bed despite the fact that she's been asleep for a good chunk of the night as well.

Inevitably, she's drawn out of her warm and comfortable cocoon by the smell that wafts into her room from the kitchen.

Pancakes.

Possibly with fruits and whipped cream.

And with the chance of some chocolate sauce. Or strawberry sauce. Or even some lemon juice.

Oh, the sight of such a beloved treat naturally meant for breakfast is enough to make her currently-covered-by-a-blanket tail wag in joy.

(Not that it's visible without the blanket - her tail flows with the moon's power.)

She plonks her blackened rump down on a seat, looking like a slightly less grumpy teenager.

Celestia slides a plate of pancakes over to her.

A murder of crows looks on, from the outside, with envy. There are seven of them in total.

Luna ignores them and begins noshing on her pancakes.

"So," The sunnier sister starts, ears perked in curiosity, and the wish to be extremely nosy, "what did Princess Twilight call you over to Canterlot for?"

She almost chokes on her pancakes, managing to force the chewed mush into the esophagus instead of her windpipe.

"T'was merely a matter of seeking my counsel, dear sister." The lie rolls off her tongue a little too easily for her liking, and she keeps a brilliant poker face up.

(...She'd been lying about her emotional state for years before her banishment as Nightmare Moon.)

(And it scares her, how easily she's able to lie about why Twilight called her over.)

"And what advice did she ask you for?" Celestia tilts her head, innocently.

"Ah, a private matter."

"Are you two dating?"

Luna would have spat out her drink if she had any liquid in her mouth. Instead, she settles for her mouth being slightly agape.

"Nay."

"Oh, did you get rejected?"

"Nay, it wasn't anything of the sort, sister! Doth thou have a daily requirement for being so forthcoming in your nosiness?!" Her wings shoot open in mock agitation.

"I'm only asking!" Celestia says with a chuckle. "Besides, it isn't like I haven't had lovers, myself."

"I am very deeply aware of your many elopements." Luna squints. "Twilight called me over to Canterlot to discuss defensive budgeting, and possibly switching the material used for spears into something more plentiful than gold."

"Oh, was that it? I was worried a threat had been foreseen."

"Nay. Merely trying to find a suitable material for enchantments that wasn't gold. Silver was best against undead, but the hordes of Neverdead are no longer a thing in this day and age. I pray they don't happen again. They were very much a pain to stop last time."

"Eugh, all those flies and maggots. I'd still argue that *those* were the real threat and not the undead," Celestia pauses for a moment, "Isn't gold the best for holding enchantments?"

"Twilight was thinking about switching to using either a gold alloy or something else entirely, as the stocks of gold have been a bit difficult to keep up," Luna nods, "She wishes to preserve enchantability while having something stronger as a base material."

The conversation either petered off after that, or the memory fogged up in the crystal clear reflections of stars within Luna's mind.

There was nothing unusual to report on for most of the day, aside from a minor feeling of wrongness in the air.

However, when it came to performing her nightly duties as Princess of the Moon of Equinius, her horn refused to light itself to cast the powerful telekinetic spell that made raising the moon possible.

This was not supposed to be a struggle for her. She was Princess Luna, of the Moon of Equinius, part of the Satellite Diarchy and previous Co-ruler of Equestria.

How could something as simple as performing a process that she'd been doing for over a thousand years (not counting the time she was sealed in the moon) be a struggle now?

(How dare the Moon not listen to her, having been her only companion for a thousand years?)

Henceforth, she tried twice more to raise the moon.

Her horn lit up, far brighter than it should have been, but any sane mare (or colt) would assume it to be a result of her immense annoyance with how she'd managed to fail at something that was second nature for her.

(While she was retired, she was still obligated to do the things her destiny required her to do, until someone else could take up her mantle as Princess of the Moon of Equinius.)

She didn't notice the slightly rosy shade the moon had taken on, too focused on trying to get it to budge more than an inch at a time.

After the seventh attempt, her temper already frayed by the frustration of trying to move the moon that was being incredibly disobedient, a surge of power (or rage) stoked the fires of her horn's corona, charging it into the third degree.

To say the extra power felt invigorating was an understatement, but where had it come from?

Her energy quickly shifted to fear. Was this the beginning of another Nightmare Moon? That had come about from her extreme jealousy, so why now would her magic suddenly flare out, becoming more powerful and so much more difficult to contain?

Her horn feels like it burns - the physical conduit for the errant magic to flow through - and she tries to shout for her sister.

Sombra awakens with a start, a full body jolt forcing him out of the rest that he was previously partaking in with no regards to what time it was.

Something feels wrong in the air.

The wards have a slight humming to them, the sound growing louder with each passing second.

Within a minute, Sombra's ears are pinned back. He can't escape from the blasted noise, and by Celestia's sunny rump, it feels like it's going through him.

Before he squeezes his eyes shut to block out extra sensory input, he notices a crack running along the aerated bubble shield spell.

He moves to duck, fragmented shards of magical shielding raining down on him as the shield explodes.

Removing his forelegs from his eyes and face, he blinks in confusion, ears swivelling this way and that.

The humming from the wards is gone.

There's a shudder in the very tiles that he's laying on, and he quickly rises to his hooves, preparing to move if he needs to.

Dust plumes out from the ceiling.

The wards peter out, their purpose isn't to cater to massive and malignant magical surges.

Sombra stumbles, unused to being unassisted with cellular regrowth. A few things in his body feel a little off, but he can simply chalk that up to his unfortunate readjustment to just being alive.

He lights his horn just to see a little better in the darkness that he's called home for the past few... days?

With the wards no longer active, he's able to use his magic freely.

The unexpected surge in magical power from the local leylines makes the light blinding - and he's forced to squeeze his eyes shut.

He channels the magical energy into a teleportation spell, redirecting his horn into preparing a matrix.

It's completed slower than he expected, a rumble from above almost plunging him into panic.

He charges at the furthest wall from where he is, opening his eyes for a mere fraction of a second to gain an understanding of where exactly in the room he is - the entire room is lit up by the magic coursing through his horn.

He's elsewhere before he runs into the obstruction, skidding to a stop (and almost tripping) on the cobblestone of a path.

His horn still glows far too bright for him to effectively see, and it'd certainly foil any sort of attempt at being somewhat stealthy.

He raises a hoof —

(Somewhere, someone is looking outside of their house via a window and seeing this, chalking it up to an average day in whatever backwater town he's ended up in.)

— and punches himself in the horn.

The physical disruption to the magical corona surrounding it causes it to fizzle out, plunging the area into darkness once again.

He tries to ignore the wet sensation running down his forehead, focusing on simply shambling forward.

(It's probably only surface damage, anyways.)

Errant sparks burst from his horn in short intervals, popping and crackling like a well-fed fire.

Exhaustion tugs at his limbs and the frayed threads of his mind, making each step forward sluggish, the time that passes between each and every step becoming a fraction of a second longer.

He all but drags himself to a nearby bush.

The leaves would at least be softer than the stone tiles of the dungeon he was previously in, even if they did have a chance to come with insects.

Somewhere, a sister, of the sunshine and warmth on a summery day, calms her younger's magical outburst by licking her own hoof and applying it to her sibling's horn.

And then the younger is blanketed in pearlescent, feathered appendages.

And she is told that it wasn't her fault, and even if it was, she would be forgiven anyways.

Author's Note

felt like putting in a wish for comfort from one of my older siblings.

ho god i have to explain more magical shit.