day 3, night, part 3

>Luna walks down the Canterlot castle halls beside Celestia.

>”How come YOU get a festival and I don’t?” Luna seemed hurt as she asked her sister this.

>”Oh, Luna,” Celestia looks down at her sister with a smile. “Our subjects simply wish to extend their thanks to me for making the crops grow and making their days worth living. They would throw you a festival too if they really loved your boring old constellations.

>The callousness of Celestia’s response repulses you.

>You’d seen some bitches with Self-Importance Syndrome before but this takes the cake.

>Memory Luna stops in her tracks. Then, with tears streaming down her face, races down an adjacent hallway. You and real Luna follow close behind as memory Luna races off to her room.

>Luna’s guards open her door for her as she rounds the corner.

>Inside Luna sobs on her bed.

>You want to try to comfort her, but it is a memory. You’re not really there.

>You turn to the real Luna. “How could your sister say that? She was so kind and understanding when I saw her with Twilight and everybody.”

>Luna sighs. “You have to understand, Anon, that was nearly a millennia past.”

>You look at her incredulously.

>Oh wait, magic.

>Apparently it’s everything in this world’s trump card against logic.

>Fuckin’ magic.

>”Hard to believe she was like this. I guess if you tell someone how great they are eventually they’ll believe it.”

>Luna notes depressingly, “Yes. Celestia was drunk on her own self-worth. She didn’t actually care about other ponies much back then. She cared only if they constantly showered her in praise.”

>Memory Luna eventually calms down.

>”S-she’s wrong. They L-LOVE my constellations! I b-bet If I went into town right n-now tons of ponies would be looking up at my w-work right now!”

>Galvanized by loneliness and sorrow, memory Luna raises the moon. Soon, bright stars twinkle brightly in the heavens.

>She waits a moment, putting the finishing touches on a few constellations, then soars out of her window.

>She flies gracefully, despite her disposition, until she lands daintily upon a cloud overlooking the city.

>Luna waits.

>To her growing anger, though, the houses grow dark and not a single pony walks the streets, let alone gazes at the stars.

>Real Luna turns to you. “Every night for four years I gathered the stars and formed the constellations of the sky. No one seemed to care though. Everyone spent their nights sleeping and dreaming instead of enjoying my labors. I grew bitter.”

>”I felt like no matter how hard I worked, no matter what I did, no one seemed to care. I sacrificed many a night giving those constellations life and arranging them in the sky. I had run myself ragged. And my sister mocked me for it.”

>”She had to do virtually nothing; just raise the sun. But everyone loved her and threw festivals in her honor. As for me?” She chuckles softly, “I was ignorable.”

>The memory shifts. Luna goes back many nights, but the outcome is the same; no one takes heed of Luna’s work.

>A scene forms anew.  Memory Luna sits upon her throne in the temple of the night, bitterly draped in a scowl and her royal vestments. A young stallion, a unicorn, maroon with a black mane, chats with Luna about this current turn of events.

>You turn to Luna. You’d seen him before in some of the other memories, but you still didn’t know who he is. So you ask.

>Luna’s smile warms, “Him? He was a student of mine, those many years ago. Just as Twilight Sparkly is Celestia’s student today, so Noble Nightshade was mine those many years ago. He was a quick student who completely lived up to his name.” Her face falls slightly at those last words.

>The student asks his teacher, “So not a single pony in all of Canterlot noticed your work?”

>Luna turns to her student and sighs, “No. Not a single one for three weeks.”

>”Don’t worry, they’ll come around after tonight,” the student reassures his teacher with a hope-filled smile.

>Luna returns the smile weakly as a guard enters the hall and makes his way to the dais.

>The guard bows and approaches her throne, “M’lady, Princess Celestia demands an audience with you. She demands that you lower the moon so she may raise the sun.

>Luna’s expression scowl returns to her features. She nearly is able to respond to her guard when Celestia throws open the doors of the temple with a mighty crash.

>Noble Nightshade instantly raises himself stand the dais as Celestia comes charging through the hall.

>”Tell me, sister, why must I call upon you to lower the moon today? Is today somehow different than any other day?” Celestia’s annoyance is palpable in every venom laced word.

>Luna lowers herself back to her throne, a coy smile on her face. “Oh sister! I did not realize the time! You know how annoyingly complicated daylight savings time is.”

>You and Nightshade chuckle to yourselves at this.

>Celestia’s fury comes to a boil. “YOU WILL LOWER THE MOON! THE DAY MUST COME!

>FUCKYEAHCAPSLOCK.JPG

>Luna, calm in the face of this withering sonic fusillade, responds calmly, “No. I have slaved to make the night beautiful, to make it wholesome and good. And what do people do? They sleep and prepare for the next day. They don’t see the beauty of the night. I’m simply giving them more time for them to see it.”

>Nightshade looks on edge. Nervous, but ready.

>Celestia, still enraged at this open defiance to her rule, bellows, “I COMMAND YOU; LOWER! THE! MOON!”

>Luna rises from her throne. “Command? I am not one of our subjects, to be bullied by royal decree. You can no more make me lower the moon than do it yourself.”

>Still blinded by her rage, Celestia fires a corona of magical energy at Luna. Luna does not react fast enough. Nightshade does. He jumps in front of Luna taking the full force of the blast, which grievously slices him down his entire left side. When the light subsides, he’s moaning on the floor, blood pooling around him. He’s barely conscious.

>Enraged, Luna blasts Celestia in turn. Celestia barely blocks it in time, then notices Luna has teleported.

>Luna reappears several meters behind Celestia, rage now burning white in her eyes. Her coat melts to onyx black and midnight blue armor materializes around her form.

>She growls out a single sentence before beginning attempted regicide, “Tomorrow will not come for you.”

>The magical duel plays out.

>This new Luna is winning handily. No defence Celestia forms holds, no attack pierces.

>Then Celestia summons five orbs from thin air. Luna does not seem to care.

>Celestia regains her royal composure despite her wounds, “Luna, for crimes against the throne of Canterlot, I hereby banish you forever.”

>Luna lowers her horn and charges as the orbs begin to glow. Luna nearly impacts into her sister before the orbs fire. Blinding light explodes outwards. Then silence. And darkness.

>All is quiet for a time.

>”...lunaaa... *cough*”

>The new Luna lights her horn in the darkness. Grey craters and dust greet the light. So does the mortally wounded body of Noble Nightshade.

>Luna soars to him immediately. Very nearly gutted, he’s almost gone.

>Luna frantically tries to stem the bleeding, but she’s panicking and sobbing and getting nowhere.

>Nightshade manages to cough out through the sobs, “*cough* It’s... It’s ok Princess. I know you *cough*tried.  I’m glad it *cough* was me instead of you.” He pauses for a long time, winded by just talking.

>”The st... The stars are beautiful tonight, Princess. Who... *wheeze* Who... made them... like that?”

>New Luna’s standing over Nightshade’s now vacant body, screaming into the night.

>The memory distorts, fades and implodes.

>You close your eyes against the scene. When you open them, you stand in Luna’s room.

>What a wild night. Not a single jimmy left unrustled, from either of you.

>Both of you have seen the lowest of the low and lived in the highest of the high. Both of you watched death steal loved ones from your grasp. Both have lost control and have known loneliness beyond what most can comprehend.

>As you look at her softly crying on her bed, trying to compose herself, you wonder: why did she do this? You bore your soul in front of her, and she did not condemn. She willingly showed you the deepest recesses of her life, something you doubt she showed any others. Why?

>Then it hits you: She cares for you. She unwillingly saw your pain and tried to understand you, a completely foreign being to her not a few hours ago. She tried to comfort you with the knowledge that others out there have lost and known depression, known the frustration and hate and anguish.

>You quietly make your way to where Luna sits on her bed, still trying to get ahold of herself. You gently wrap your arms around her and she puts her head on your shoulder.

>Words escape you. So you whisper the only thing you can.

>”Thank you.”