A light cough stirs Princess Luna from her drowsy state, not uncommon when she works the Night Court in addition to her normal duties.

“T’is time?” she asks, willing herself not to yawn. It is unbecoming of a Princess to yawn, as her more stately Sister constantly reminds her. She was just having the worst nightmare, where Equestria and the forces of Grogar were about to quite literally tear each other apart. Quelling those horrific dreams often leaves her mane in complete disarray and her eyes bloodshot, and a quick check thankfully confirms neither ailment is the case. Regardless, she will need to find the dreamer again - it felt like her stallion-in-law, err, Shining Armor - and ensure it does not get out of hoof.

Something bothers her, though. She’s reminded of her Tantabus, how she constructed a dream realm to confine it, and how Laughter delved doubly deep into the dream of her filly.

“It is, your Highness,” Solar Flare, one of her lower-ranked batpony guards, confirms. Most of them have names that pledge their loyalty to Celestia, an understandable if regrettable necessity to survive after her descent into madness, and one of many minor things that rankle her.

“Very well.” Luna settles on her throne, the built-in cushion making the otherwise odd sitting position comfortable. Celestia has made some improvements over the centuries, if only by chance. “Let the Night Court begin.”

As expected, her proclamation is met by silence. No petitioners waiting for her to settle some petty grievance, no judge asking for her wisdom regarding some weighty matter, nothing at all to do in the hours between dusk and dawn. Every muffled cough, every minor adjustment, every scrape of repositioned hoof against floor does nothing but draw attention to this fact. What does it say about her that nopony comes to see her? Is she not as wise as her Sister? Do they not expect a fair hearing, or are they just not able to fit a visit into their otherwise packed nightlives?

She does her best not to slip into her normal duties. The act of battling the nightmares encountered by Equestria’s ponies is often seen as ‘sleeping’ by the uninformed. True, her eyes are closed, and she prefers laying down while she is in the dream state, but it is hardly restful!

Would she find any, if this was a dream inside a dream?

Fifteen minutes pass before she cannot take it any more. “Night Court is closed,” she declares, Solar Flare thumping the end of his spear twice against the marble floor. It echoes loudly in the empty hall. She stands, her rump half asleep already. “We shall retire to our quarters, should our presence be required.”

Her announcement is met with little fanfare, unlike the disappointed sighs from petitioners that were not able to be squeezed in to see her more illustrious Sister. Solar Flare pauses while the other guard files out. “Everything all right, your Highness?”

“Everything’s perfect,” Luna replies dourly, “as usual.”

The guard nods along, unconvinced, and leaves her alone.

Luna doubts she could convince herself, either. She takes a different exit, even if it takes longer; she could teleport, but that would trip too many of her Sister’s alarms, and she doesn’t feel like bothering to slip through unnoticed. She trudges toward her tower, through silent corridors laced with lavender, across courtyards where the only activity is the soft rustle of wind through the trees. Even the streets are bare of commoners traipsing about their nighttime duties. Where is everypony? She knows her Sister’s day is preferred, but this is ridiculous!

Everything else is in its place. A consequence of being so attuned with dreams, or is this real?

She spots a lone figure balancing on her balcony, his silver-white hair glimmering in the bright moonlight. With a sigh and a scowl she trudges to her door, electing to take the stairs. She tells herself it is to keep a low profile, so none will know her Night Court was so abandoned, but she really wants to avoid Raikou as long as possible.

Avoiding the dictator might be possible, but keeping him out of her mind is another story. The doors to her penthouse are locked, all her alarms in place, but there is something about having a former enemy, especially such a formidable one, in such close proximity to make her uneasy. Like she’s expecting him to snap at any moment, break into her room and capture her, if not something more nefarious.

She tries to busy herself by looking over maps of proposed settlements in the Griffon Kingdom. Chrysalis’ audacious plan to restore glory to the griffons is plagued by the utter lack of, well, anything in the area. Food, manufacturing, housing, transportation: all the infrastructure of a modern civilization needs to be accomplished simultaneously, as well as clear the forest of anywhere they inhabit. The fact that the changeling’s plan involves sending a mere dozen settlers to accomplish this, and then expand those settlements over time, smacks her of a severe underappreciation of the danger. It is not a wager she would have made, but perhaps that is why Chrysalis is in charge and not herself. After all, she has difficulty seeing the griffons as anything but power-hungry (and often pony-hungry) predators who would raid and pillage these undefended hamlets without a thought of remorse. Thanks to Lunaris’ efforts (and, unconnected, the loss of their Idol of Boreas) their aggression has been curbed, but as far as she is concerned it is only a matter of time before they raise claw against the ponies once again.

Much like the aggression of the Storm King. She watches the motionless figure through her window. He is facing away from her, balanced perfectly upon his silvered staff, only the slightest twitches in his lean muscles showing the constant fight against gravity’s relentless tug. She respects that dexterity, admires the control required to keep from toppling over.

With a certain curiosity she unlatches her door, joining the meditating hedgehog on her balcony. He says nothing, not even a nod of greeting, his focus on the empty streets far below.

While his focus stays down, hers raises. She looks at the moon, stark white against a gold-flecked sky. Her prison for a millennium, cast out by the Elements of Harmony, for seeking her rightful place - or that was what she thought. Is this, then, to be her destiny? Empty nights and empty responsibilities, along for the ride while she watches others accomplish everything?

Or is this what her dreams have become?

“Short night, huh?”

The glib remark sets her hair on end. She snaps back, “What art thou implying?”

“That you don’t have much to do.” He grins, ignoring her scowl. “That makes two of us.”

Luna frowns. He sounds… forlorn, almost regretful. “Would’st thy rather be out there, pillaging and conquering the world?”

“Have you been reading my diary?” The Storm King looks at Luna, then smacks himself on the head with a silly smile. He nearly topples off his staff, his frantic efforts to stay upright comical - and also successful. She can’t help but be amused at his antics. “Wait, look who I’m talking to! Of course you know my dreams.”

Luna can’t see any gain from denying the truthful assertion. “And thy aim to become the most powerful creature on Equus?”

“Oh, look who’s calling the storm cloud black.” Raikou flips onto the rail, holding his staff between his feet and lifting his legs toward the sky. He does a few pushups, maintaining his hand stand, before swapping to a single arm. “Just because your bid for the championship failed doesn’t mean I can’t be a contender.”

“Then why the pretense?” Luna demands, half a mind to knock the dictator off the ledge and save them the trouble. “Thou believes friendship art a weakness. That friends art a ‘liability’, who distract from thy goals. Who holdeth thou back, and ask thou to sacrifice thy ambitions to help them.”

“Well, I need somecreature to govern after I’ve taken over.” Raikou grins. “The rigors of ruling: administering taxes, running committees, negotiating retirement packages. You think I want all that?”

“Thou shalt not succeed in thy conquests,” Luna retorts with a solemn shake of her head. “Not against the power of Friendship, and Harmony.”

“How’s that been working out for you?” Raikou asks as he switches arms. “Celestia doesn’t need you, she didn’t need you for a thousand years. Where’s the friendship and harmony in that?”

“Equestria needeth balance,” Luna claims, as much as the truth of his statement hurts. “Without balance, there’s no harmony; Equestria needeth both sun and moon, day and night, to flourish.”

“Flourish?” The Storm King laughs, loud and raucous. “Who needs balance when you can have it all? Have you made any friends who inspire you to greater heights?”

“Yes,” Luna asserts strongly.

“Outside of your herd?” Raikou demands. “Or your Sister?”

The question knocks against Luna’s convictions. “...Neigh.”

“Then how do you do it?” Raikou’s question surprises her, as does the scowl etched on his face. She worries the twitch of muscles is less about balancing and more a strain to keep still.

Luna keeps her face carefully set. “To what doth thou refer?”

The Storm King snarls as he stretches his hand towards the buildings far below. “How do you endure the jeers and complaints of those who are lesser than you in every way without kicking them off a conveniently high building?”

“Ah. Yes.” Luna looks down her tower at the streets far below. She wonders how he had guessed at her earlier urge, but more importantly, how - if she even does - suppress those insidious thoughts.

Raikou drops the staff, sitting cross-legged on her railing. Luna notes how his hands tremble with rage. “How do you swallow your pride, quell that voice inside you telling you that you are better than them, that you deserve to be the top hog?”

“We art not better than them,” Luna says solemnly. “Despite our advantages, despite our abilities, we art still at our core a pony. Prone to mistakes, to pride and greed, and desperate for forgiveness and restoration. So we become friends with somepony in just as dire circumstances as we art.” Luna turns to the Storm King with the beginnings of a wicked smirk. He gulps. “And we believe we have found one.”

“No no no,” Raikou says, backpedaling.

“Thou do not believe thou art up to the task?” Luna cocks her head to the side, challenging him with her blank expression. “A pity. We art the least of the alicorns, least worthy to be called by Harmony’s name, for we alone assaulted Harmony’s champion in our misguided coup. We suppose we will wallow in darkness for eternity, for if there is anypony who least deserves a friend, it is us.”

“You’re the worst?” Raikou says, laughing at her challenge. He thumps his chest, armor clanging against his fist. “You might have attempted to overthrow a country, but I’ve been the tip of the spear, driving into the hearts of a dozen.” He strides back to her, sitting down, deliberately hunching over so he is lower than her. “If there’s anycreature who is undeserving of a friend, it’s me.”

Luna lowers to ponyloaf, head bowing to the white moon. “We have tormented the dreams of ponies for a thousand years, a curse and boogiemare all in one.”

“Pony dreams are tormented by spooky looking sticks and bugs.” Raikou lays down, hands behind his head, joining her in staring at the moon. His voice lowers, almost a whisper. “You really think she’ll forgive us?”

“I do not think so,” Luna says, turning to wink at Raikou.

“Don’t say it,” he threatens.

“I know so,” she says as she yawns, briefly closing her eyes.

She awakens back in the stadium. She slowly gets to her hooves, Twilight, Cadance, and Shining Armor rising while Celestia and her stallion remains laying down. She chances a glance backward; Raikou, who looks to be dozing, briefly raises his head to wink at her.

Was that a dream? A portent of things to come? …A test?

…If it was a test, did she pass?

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