The apartment was quiet, the silence disturbed only by the faint sound of a quill’s scratching. Octavia was hunched over her kitchen table, her lower lip held in her teeth and eyes set upon the tools of her new trade. Before her sat a neat stack of papers, to her left three ink bottles – one nearly empty – and to her right a trio of open books, her father’s history textbook in the center. She worked the quill at an almost fevered pace, tracing notes in various melodies and styles and scratching out the ones she didn’t care for.

Every now and then she would glance at one of the books. Her father’s text was opened to articles about Nildian gods, particularly Camkanā, the Star Creature, who hid behind the sun during the day so that the Se Paidā Honā Ujālā – Those Born of the Light – would not see it. The second book, a favorite of her aunt’s, contained a collection of ancient Nildian folk songs, currently opened to a lullaby invoking Ullūbālū, the Sand Bird whose wings were made of enchanted dust. The third was a binder filled with the sheet music of classical Nilgiri orchestrations, currently opened to the ever-beloved Tārā Sapnā.

Octavia’s mind was bursting with ideas, melodies, concepts, patterns and themes. In all her life, not once had her desires for creativity been this clear. The level of clarity was a transformative experience; suddenly all the things she ever wanted were not only visible, but seemed perfectly within reach.

And all it took was a glance back at her roots.

Even as she scribbled out another batch of notes for consideration, she corrected that last thought. No, this wasn’t everything. This was just the final inspiration. Looking back, even that became obvious: there were three. Her past was the lock to this new well of creativity and Vinyl’s incredible song acted as the door. The key?

The quill paused. Her eyes closed, and beneath the veil of her eyelids came the soft, soothing twinkle of stars within an unparalleled mane. Yet again, the thought returned. This time she spoke it aloud, as if to savor the taste:

“I have everything I need.”

So deliciously sweet.

When she opened her eyes, they rested upon the clock on her wall. She blinked, took a closer look. With a groan and no small amount of willpower, she forced herself to put the quill down. This gave her pause; was this song so important to her that she actually begrudged having to play at the Garden Party?

Goddess, she had it bad, didn’t she? The thought brought a lopsided smile to her lips, but she promptly shook it off and turned for her room; she would need to go soon if she was to make the party on time. She checked her cello case and carrying saddle to ensure her invitation was properly stored, then turned to her small closet. Her instinct was to just grab her bowtie as usual, but she paused to take in the dresses she had.

Luna was going to be there. Maybe… maybe she should dress up a little more? She browsed the clothes, her heart rate increasing just slightly at the possibilities. All of her dresses were nice, especially for how little she was able to afford, but none of them seemed good enough. She pushed aside another one of the dresses and paused; there was her suit. The only outfit of its kind in the collection, it stood out like the moon on a starless night: black, prim, long coattails, and a fedora that, while not exactly matching the ensemble, she couldn’t help thinking looked great on her head.

The suit was one of her favorites, but she didn’t wear it often because it was also the most expensive of her outfits and she wanted it to last. For tonight, though…

Her hoof paused, half-outstretched to take the item. Her eyes were on the floor, were a small carrying case sat. Hidden inside was the stallion’s dream, the red dress she loved and hated. Luna hadn’t noticed her in that, and it was designed to be noticeable. What were the odds that Luna wouldn’t notice the suit?

Maybe it would be better to go with just her bowtie. She wasn’t going to attract Luna with nice outfits. Besides, the suit was only for special occasions. True, the Canterlot Garden Party was decidedly ‘special,’ but equal to the moment when Octavia’s greatest gift was to be unveiled before her beloved princess?

No, the two events weren’t even comparable. Octavia took the bowtie.

She strapped on her carrying case, humming a new tune as she did. She paused, hummed it in a couple variations, then hurried to her table to scribble down some notes. With an almost painful effort, she set the quill aside and returned to set her cello to the carrying saddle. That done, she marched for the door – pausing for a few seconds to scribble one last set of notes – and fled the apartment before another tune could come to mind.

The walk to the castle started off slow at first, for Octavia couldn’t stop thinking about potential new material for her music. It was so different from everything she knew! A background of the pure, delightful classical music that she had always loved, coupled with the alien melodies of Nildian culture and history, all held together by the patterned resonance of modern music that, as Vinyl had demonstrated, could indeed fit together with a more sophisticated format. A bold, original blend of sounds and styles, and it was all hers. Had she wings, she imagined she would have been floating.

Yet the closer she came to Canterlot Castle, the more her thoughts drifted towards Luna. It felt like so long since she’d spoken to the princess, even though it had only been a few days. Octavia steeled herself; Luna had agreed to attend the party, and she was confident beyond any doubt that the princess would keep that promise. After the party, they would talk and this whole mess with Bejamina could be behind them. Octavia had already forgiven Luna her trespass; surely Luna would forgive her anger.

The Royal Canterlot Gardens could easily be reached without going through the castle itself, and so Octavia took the road that ran along the side of the castle. This was an influential residential district with great mansions tucked against the castle's outer wall. On the other side of the road stood tall manors that had been built narrow due to the small space between the cobblestones and the cliff, for this road ran right up the side of the mountain. It had to in order to reach the elevated gardens next to the royal ballroom.

It took no time at all to reach the gardens once past the gate. The sight of the trees and shrubs brought to mind Octavia’s very first meeting with Luna. Looking back, it had been such an anxious moment. She smiled at the memory; oh, had she only known what that fortuitous night would lead to!

The Garden Party was in the midst of being set up, but the arrangements were nearly complete. Octavia made a beeline through the servants for the stage that had been set up on one side, taking the time to examine the other musicians already there. She recognized the violinist, a pretty yellow mare with a deep purple mane named Symphony. They’d worked together a few times in the past. Symphony’s name might not be on the lips of every pony in Equestria, but her work in orchestras was widespread and had earned her a solid reputation. Octavia always enjoyed working with the kind mare.

To the right of the stage was the backup violinist, Concerto, who belonged to the more traditional elite. Full of pomp, that one, but there could be no denying his skill. The fact that he’d been named secondary to Symphony probably irked him, but Octavia could find no indication of it on his face. Perhaps he was just happy to be at the Garden Party at all.

And of course there was Parish beside his harp. He waved as Octavia approached the stage. “Hey, Octy. I’m surprised to not see you dressed to the nines.”

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” she admitted with a small blush, accepting his help onto the stage.

Symphony paused in the act of adjusting her violin. “Hello, Octavia. Always good to see you’re in the band. The music’s going to be a lot better with you here.”

“But of course.” Octavia flicked her mane with a grin. “Nice to see you, Symphony. Fancy Pants clearly has good taste.”

“Indeed he does,” Concerto said, approaching with a smooth smile. “If I dare say so, however, I believe you are the star of tonight’s performance.”

Octavia maintained her practiced smile and resisted the urge to step back from the smug stallion. “I think you put too much stock in the tabloids, Concerto.”

“I’m not so sure.” He glanced at the crowd over his upturned muzzle, then leaned over to whisper, “Are you really in a romantic relationship with the princess?”

She kept her smile steady and ignored the tiniest of aches in her chest. “No.”

“Really?” He leaned back, eyebrows raised. “Then what did you do to earn her favor? Surely you don’t expect me to believe that Fancy Pants selected you for any other reason.”

Heat rushed to Octavia’s cheeks and she sucked down a long breath through her nostrils, lips pursed tight. At the last instant, she remembered her need to control herself and managed to avoid opening her mouth.

“Hey!” Parish stood between the two of them. “Octavia is here because of merit. You do understand that concept, don’t you?”

“Merit, her?” Concerto tilted his head so he could study Octavia with a miffed frown. “Isn’t she from Trottingham? I don’t know of any noble families from there.”

Though her lips trembled, Octavia bit her tongue. She stepped around Parish and pressed her hoof to his muzzle just in time to stop whatever had been about to explode from it. He shot her a worried look as she shook her head. Concerto watched the scene play out looking no less confused.

At last, Octavia managed to suck in another long breath and force a smile to her lips. “If you want to know why I’m here, you’ll just have to ask Fancy Pants. He’s the only one who really knows.”

Concerto rubbed the back of his head with an uncertain frown before shrugging. “I guess I’ll do that. I… didn’t mean to offend.”

“Of course.” She stepped back, pulling her hoof from Parish’s face. “Parish, would you help me set up my cello, please?”

He said nothing, only turned and stalked for the center of the stage. Her own fire mercifully burning out, Octavia gave Concerto one last nod and turned to follow.

Parish stood by as she removed her case from her saddle. His words came out as a strained hiss. “The nerve of that… that…”

“Calm down,” she instructed, offering him the case. He took it, and she worked her way out of the saddle. “It won’t do to get into a fight right before the party starts.”

He snorted and bent down to open the case. While he set her cello on a stand, she dragged her saddle to the place behind the stage where she could stash it for later. Deep down, she was reveling in the moment; she’d held in her emotions, just like she used to! It hadn’t been easy, granted, but it felt good to know that she still could if necessary. Maybe this was a sign that her situation was improving, even if only emotionally.

Parish had her cello standing properly when she got back. He looked at her with a frown and ears folded. “I’m sorry, Octy. After my little faux pas the other day, I guess I felt the need to make up for it.”

A smile bloomed on her lips and she gave him a small nuzzle. “Oh, Parish, you don’t have to make up for that, and you don’t have to defend me. I’m a big filly, you know.”

“And I’m a little colt,” he grumbled, returning the nuzzle. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so dumb.”

Octavia blinked. “You’re not dumb.” When he only wilted a little more, she nuzzled him again. “Parish.”

He sighed and waved her off. “Stop it, your princess will get jealous.” Despite the humorous nature of the statement, he didn’t smile.

She stared at him, at a loss for words. What could she possibly say to cheer him up? When he turned back to his harp, she reached up to try and stop him, but the words locked in her throat.

“What’s wrong with Parish?”

Octavia glanced at Symphony, who was watching the harpist with a distraught expression. “He’s beating himself up over something that’s not his fault.” She sighed and turned to her cello. “I don’t know what to tell him.”

Symphony nodded, her eyes not leaving the stallion. Octavia distracted herself with trying to tune her cello.

The Garden Party continued into the night, the pleasant music rising in the air. Luna delighted in the sound even as her stomach churned. She stood on a balcony three stories above the gardens. She gazed at Octavia, who currently had her eyes closed as she went through the current piece. The more Luna stared, the more Cadance’s words haunted her.

Part of Luna was glad she’d kept hidden. When the Element Bearers arrived to crash the party… well, Luna considered her non-presence for that near-fiasco a good thing. With her luck, perhaps she’d have made things worse. Yet now everything had returned to normal, or as ‘normal’ as they could with those six ‘rustics’ trying to fit in. Luna had observed everything, and the event gave her a newfound respect for Rarity, as well as Mr. Fancy Pants.

Her eyes drifted back to Octavia. At the end of every song, the cellist had paused to look around at the partygoers. The princess knew Octavia would be hurt if she skipped out, but every time she tried to join in…

Another twist of the stomach.

“Princess Luna?”

Luna practically jumped out of her horseshoes. She spun about, cheeks a deep crimson, and found her visitor standing by the door of the balcony, sporting a plain yellow dress. “O-oh, Twilight Sparkle! I didn’t expect you to be leaving the party so soon.”

Twilight had ducked low at the princess’s abrupt reaction, but recovered quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s quite alright.” Luna sighed and glanced back to the stage. Octavia was casting around for her once more, lips set in a concerned frown. Turning her attention back to Twilight, Luna hurried to ask, “What brings you up here?”

“I was on my way to see Celestia,” Twilight replied, stepping onto the balcony. “She said she wanted to visit for my birthday.”

“Of course. A happy birthday to you.”

“Thanks.” Twilight looked down at the stage as the music started up again. “Watching Octavia?”

Luna sputtered, eyebrows shooting up and cheeks going hot. “H-how do you know about her?”

Twilight chuckled. “It’s all over the news. I don’t read the papers much, but Rarity is a true gossip and wasted no time letting everypony in Ponyville know.”

“I see.” Luna glowered at Rarity, who stood below in deep conversation with Fancy Pants. Her appreciation for the Element of Generosity promptly diminished just a bit.

Twilight gave her a curious look. “Aren’t you going to go talk to her?”

Luna licked her lips and averted her gaze. “I… I am supposed to be down there now. I promised.”

“Oh.” Twilight looked to the stage, then back to Luna. She sat and leaned forward just a little. “Is everything okay?”

The answer came slowly. “Yes. I’m just…” Luna tossed around words in her mind, seeking out just the right one. “Confused.” She gazed down at Octavia again, studying that soft face, her dark mane, that ever-calm expression. Her chest grew tight. “So confused.”

Once more, Twilight looked from Luna to Octavia and back. She considered the situation, her muzzle wrinkling in thought, and Luna suddenly didn’t like the idea of Twilight trying to figure out this puzzle. “Now, if you don’t mind—”

Twilight’s eyes became saucers. “Oh.”

“No.” Luna made a cutting motion with her hoof. “Whatever you’re thinking, you will cease doing so now.”

Twilight ducked as if to avoid a blow, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. “It’s kinda hard to stop, now that I’ve started.”

“Delightful.” Luna rolled her head back with a groan. “First Cadance, now you. I imagine my accursed sister will be pestering me about this next.”

Ears perking, Twilight sat up straight and asked, “So you’re saying it’s true?”

“No, that is certainly not what I am saying.”

Twilight winced and averted her gaze to the ongoing party. “Sorry.”

Luna considered her, then cursed under her breath. It took a moment to push the anger down. “Forgive me, it’s not your fault. The past few nights have been rough and I may be a bit…” She pondered on an appropriate word. “Snippy.”

“It’s okay, Princess.” Twilight continued to watch the party for a few seconds, but then her ears perked once more. “What about Octavia?”

“Octavia?” Luna’s gaze dropped to the mare in question. Octavia swayed to the music once more, her eyes closed, but there was a visible strain in her expression. The sight gave Luna a strange sense of urgency. Pushing the sensation down, she asked, “What about her?”

Twilight turned to Luna, face filled with concern. “Maybe you’re not interested, but what if she is?”

Luna scoffed. “Impossible. Octavia wouldn’t be so—” She sucked in a sharp, hissing breath, eyes going wide. She looked down at the cellist once more, abruptly imagining Octavia in a form-fitting red dress. Even for a casual dinner, it wasn’t exactly normal attire. Possibilities swam through Luna’s mind faster than she could stop them. Her heart regained its frenetic pace. “Oh my stars.”

“Princess?”

“It’s nothing.” Luna straightened and put on her best regal mask. “Just something I realized needed doing. You should go, Celestia will be eager to see you.”

Twilight hesitated, once again glancing towards Octavia. “Alright, then. It was nice to see you again, Princess.” She started to leave, but paused before she was out of Luna’s peripheral vision. “And… um… good luck.”

Good luck? Luna resisted the urge to ask ‘for what?’ She glanced back, making sure Twilight was gone before letting her mask drop; she sagged and let out a long gasp. At this point she couldn’t get the image of Octavia in that dress out of her head. The mare – as undesiring of attention as she is – had worn something like that in full view of the public, even letting that journalist take photos of her. Did that mean something? Had Octavia been trying to send a signal?

Good Goddess, what if she was? And Luna had missed it completely!

“No,” Luna whispered, shaking her head frantically. “Twilight’s… I’m looking too deeply into this. Octavia wouldn’t be—” She exhaled slowly. “Cadance is wrong. She has to be.”

Slowly, as if just a glance risked something terrible, Luna looked down to the stage once more. Her breath caught in her throat: Octavia was looking right at her. The urge to bolt came over the princess, but she resisted and instead managed a weak wave. Octavia’s face split into a broad grin. She practically glowed as she waved with bow in hoof. Luna couldn’t help wanting to hide behind the balustrade, but she returned the smile as best she could.

The next song began. It possessed a slow tempo, yet when Octavia began her part she had a reborn energy in her sound that Luna couldn’t help noticing. Had Octavia’s playing improved because of Luna’s presence? It sounded so silly, but…

She should be down there. Luna knew that. Hiding up here wouldn’t help anything, and she couldn’t very well ignore the topic, now could she? Besides, she still owed Octavia an apology. Yes… yes, that made sense. Fighting down her stomach’s circus, she turned to make for the stairs—

A familiar, cold wave washed over her. Familiar, but far more frigid than Luna had ever experienced in such a manner. Her horn ignited in a fiery display, making her wince even as her teeth chattered. Luna’s eyebrows shot up and her heart skipped a beat. “No… No, not now. Any time but now.”

She could almost hear the wicked laughter in her ears. Closing her eyes, Luna worked her magic. The sheer volume of blood red pillars made her fur rise. Slowly, she turned a circle to take in the damage. Her heart sank as the wave of red grew, fanning out until it formed a circle around her. Had the abomination somehow managed to target the entire city?

There comes a time when you realize that you cannot save everypony.

Luna chewed her lip. She wanted to take those words to heart, to ignore this abrupt new threat and visit with Octavia. The situation with her… her friend had to be rectified, and soon. Yet there were so many night terrors out there, she’d not be able to end them all even if she worked all night long without a break. How many ponies were being affected? Hundreds?

Breath coming slowly, Luna looked down at the gardens. Octavia was concentrating on the music, her eyes closed once more and her body swaying. Oh, how much Luna wanted to go down there. She winced as a few more crimson lines appeared on the horizon. She closed her eyes and begged the sickness in her stomach to go away.

Too much. She couldn’t shirk her duties, not in the wake of such a disaster. The creature undoubtedly wanted this; it was trying to drive a wedge between them. Luna knew that Celestia was right, that sometimes the vile thing had to be ignored, but this?

“I’m sorry.”

With one last, mournful look towards Octavia, the princess turned and ignited her horn, preparing to step into the realm of dreams.

The stars shined on their own tonight, but they provided Octavia with no joy. Again. She stared at her hooves, a deep sadness marring her every thought. The Garden Party had ended ages ago. By now she understood: Luna wasn’t coming.

Slowly, she cast her head up to the balcony where she’d momentarily seen the princess. Or had she? Maybe she’d just imagined it. Even if Luna had been there, why hadn’t she come down to talk? Why disappear immediately afterwards?

Fighting back tears, Octavia trudged to her the edge of the stage and pulled on her carrying case, cello already set. The straps seemed to dig into her coat, but she made no attempt to correct the problem. Maybe the discomfort would distract from the ache in her heart. The thought of going to Luna’s quarters struck her, but she cast it aside with a dull frown. If Luna didn’t want to talk to her here, she wouldn’t want to talk to her there.

She stumbled off the stage, barely aware of her own hooves. Octavia kept her eyes on the grass, lips trembling as she struggled to think of some kind of excuse for Luna’s absence. Maybe Luna really was upset with her. Perhaps her outburst had been too much. Or… what if Luna had come to believe Octavia was angry? Octavia cursed herself. Why had she let her emotions grow so strong that night? There had to be some way to fix this, there simply had to be. Losing Luna now, her great inspiration…

She was so close to having a song she could make with her own hooves, a song that would reveal just how important Luna was. If Luna stopped seeing her – Octavia shook her head, trying to get that hideous concept out of her mind. She needed to show Luna, but Luna herself happened to be one of the major inspirations! Without the princess, could she even finish the song?

Octavia sighed and sat, the grass cool to the touch. “All I can do is fret.” Her gaze rose to the stars. “I wish I had somepony to talk to about this, anypony at all.” She saw no point in it now, though; all her usual friends would be asleep except Vinyl, and she wasn’t even in the city. She glanced around at the gardens, half-hoping some quiet watcher would appear to listen to her troubles. No such pony came, though, and after a while she resumed her trudging pace.

Yet even as she did, she felt a fire burning in her heart. She found herself glaring at the night sky, her mind blazing with fresh memories. How many times had she butted heads with Luna? How many nights had the princess made her feel special without even trying to? They laughed and argued and fretted and accepted one another. Out of all the things the two of them had in common, none were so blatant as their stubbornness.

Maybe that defined the problem. Perhaps Luna stubbornly refused to face this problem. Octavia couldn’t fault this; had she not stubbornly refused go see Luna these past few days?

Another thought came to mind, and it brought a chill to Octavia’s body: what if stubbornness led to Luna’s banishment a millennium ago? The princess had always been determined not to discuss her exile, only broaching it on a few rare moments that usually amounted to no more than a slip of the tongue. Octavia had taken to avoiding the topic entirely by now. Maybe that was the wrong approach.

Octavia knew Luna still struggled with her past. Could it be that Luna feared being close to Octavia as a direct result?

She came to an abrupt stop and turned to stare up at the castle. All her frustration fled as this new idea churned around in her mind. What if Luna feared a… a relapse? Everypony believed Nightmare Moon had been vanquished, but defeat doesn’t equate to death. Could it be that the monster—

Monster? Is that what we call ourselves now?

The air burst from Octavia’s lungs and her hind legs gave out on her. She closed her eyes and tried to remember as best she could the entity that had attacked them in her dream. The way it had spoken, the way it seemed to toy with them. There had been something specific, something important. What had it said?

Yes, keep thinking, Nightmare. Think about all the things we’ll do to her before we succumb to the velvety need.

Think about all the things we’ll do to her…

…we’ll do to her…

…we…

Octavia abruptly remembered to breathe, a small whine rising in the back of her throat. That… that thing could only be Nightmare Moon. Why else would it call Luna ‘Nightmare?’ It didn’t make sense, though; weren’t Luna and Nightmare Moon one and the same?

She shook her head violently; that thought made even less sense. Octavia knew Luna, and she was not Nightmare Moon! But that had to have been her in the dream. How could that be? Was Luna out there right now, fighting with herself in the dream realm? What had happened to cause such a thing?

She jerked to her hooves with a firm frown. It didn’t matter how it happened, or why. What mattered was that Luna was fighting the Nightmare – or at least something that resembled it. That task had to be taking up all her energy and time. She’d failed to resist it once; what were the odds of it happening again?

It could be that she’d just come up with a desperate theory to justify Luna’s absence. Octavia knew she could be completely off, but if she was right…

How had Luna fallen the first time? The details were sketchy at best, but Octavia knew that somehow, in some unknown manner, Celestia had failed her sister in her time of need. If Nightmare Moon lingered in dreams, where Celestia refused to go, perhaps she would be incapable of helping again.

A growl rose unbidden from Octavia. Her princess could be under threat at this very moment, and she knew she had to help in some way. If nothing else, she had to lend her support. She might not be capable of dreamweaving, but she did have a way to offer that much.

Octavia turned and galloped for the garden’s exit, a new resolve filling her.

She had a song to write.

“Sister?”

Luna flinched at the soft voice, slowly forcing her eyes open. She could only halfway manage it. Her entire body aching, she turned her head to find Celestia closely inspecting her with wide eyes. She said nothing to this.

“You look exhausted.” Celestia folded a wing over Luna’s smaller form, pulling her close. “Are you okay?”

A feeble, trembling smile turned Luna’s lips. “I didn’t let it win,” she whispered. Against her better judgment, she leaned against Celestia and delighted in her warmth. “It thought that… that sheer volume would beat me into submission, but… but no.”

Celestia nuzzled her cheek. “Sister, you can’t keep this up. You have to rest. Please, don’t go out there again, not until you’ve recovered.”

“I have to do my duty.” Luna replied sleepily, resting her chin on Celestia’s withers.

“No, Luna. Just for one night, please.”

“I can’t.” Luna’s voice turned ominous even through her huffing breaths. “It came during the Garden Party. It’s trying to do as much harm as… as it can to keep me from being happy.”

“And in that way, it’s winning.” Celestia turned so she could rest her head on Luna’s withers in turn. “Can’t you see, Luna? The only way it will stop is if you do.”

For a time, Luna said nothing. A tiny fire still bubbled in her mind, a smoldering ember of what she’d possessed the entire evening. The words came almost unbidden, “You could always order me.”

Celestia sucked in a sharp breath. It took a while for her to formulate an answer. “I will never order you to do anything ever again.”

Her tone felt like a knife in the heart, and before Luna knew it she was grasping her sister in shaking legs. “I’m s-sorry. I’m just so… so tired of this. It felt stronger than usual tonight, and it said such t-terrible things.” Tears defied her feeble resistance. “I won’t go back. I won’t.”

“You won’t.” Celestia returned the embrace. “I promise, Luna. You won’t go back.”

“It was so strong tonight.” Luna buried her face in her sister’s mane. “It only grows strong through me. I’m doing something wrong. What am I doing wrong?”

Celestia sat back and cupped Luna’s cheeks in her hooves. Thought difficult, Luna somehow managed to look into her sister’s determined eyes. “We’ll figure it out, little sister. Together. You’re not alone this time. Whatever I can do to help, just ask and I will be there.”

Luna considered this, wiping her cheeks with a cannon. “I d-don’t know if you can help.” She lowered her head once more. “I’m afraid, Celestia.”

Her sister fidgeted, uncertainty and anguish clear in her expression. Luna didn’t blame her; she knew exactly what it felt like to be helpless. She turned to the balcony, wobbling a little as she did. “I still have a job to do.”

“No.” Celestia nuzzled her once more. “Let me do both tonight, Luna. You need to rest.”

“If I cannot at least do this, what purpose do I serve?” Luna shook her head and concentrated. “Do not fret, Celestia; I have enough strength for one of my only duties.”

Celestia hesitated, but finally nodded. Luna said no thanks, instead focusing her attention on the new moon. The glow of her horn was shaky at best, flickering in the dark as she struggled to conjure some magic through her weariness. The moon responded, but its path was slow and jerking, sometimes pausing for several seconds before resuming its slide to the horizon. The effort had Luna panting and sweat beading on her flanks. A burning sting centered in her forehead, making her cringe. At last, the moon disappeared over the horizon.

Luna released the magic, stumbling forward as she did. Her breathing, previously heavy, now came in gasps. Had her legs not been splayed, she might have collapsed. The weight that seemed to cover her entire body had grown significantly, catching her by surprise, and her head was throbbing. She dropped to a sitting position with a groan.

Celestia touched horns with her sister, lips set in a deep frown. “You’ve overdosed.”

“I know,” Luna grumbled, rubbing her head. “I’ve not done that in centuries.” The world abruptly began to spin, and she had to scramble on aching legs to keep from falling down. Celestia pressed against her for support. “M-maybe I really should rest for a night.”

“Good, please do.” Her sister turned her gaze to the horizon, her horn sparking. “Let me raise the sun, then I’ll help you to your room.”

Closing her eyes, Luna braced herself. Soon the light of the sun pierced her eyelids, agitating her headache. Yet worse than the first rays of morning was the shame she felt for her weakness. She wanted something, longed for it, yet somehow she knew it wouldn’t help. Celestia would do it, if she asked. The question was on the tip of her tongue.

“Come,” Celestia whispered, nudging her to the door. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Luna allowed herself to be corralled, fighting a mighty internal struggle. If only she weren’t so scared, if only she thought it would help. “S… sister?”

“Yes, Lulu?”

She pressed a little more tightly against Celestia, cheeks red. “Will you… will you stay with me? At least until I fall asleep?” Though she didn’t open her eyes, she could feel Celestia’s gaze upon her. She felt like such a foal.

“Of course I will.”

Luna sighed, a shadow of a smile on her lips as she tucked her muzzle beneath her sister’s throat. “Thank you… Tia.”