Chapter Text
Twelve Nights Since
Twelve nights since the reign of Nightmare Moon began. Twelve nights since she had taken her rightful place on the throne and banished her forsaken sister. Twelve nights her illustrious moon had hung in the sky, all-seeing and radiant, and Equestria was bathed in glorious night everlasting.
The first order of business had been to erase all paraphernalia of her sister. All iconography of the sun was to be discarded immediately. Paintings were torn to shreds, tapestries were burned, and murals were painted over. The sight was very welcome, but each served to tell the princess that Equestria’s adoration for her sister had only grown in her absence. Infuriatingly, that was possible.
After the first week of her rule, the castle’s doors had opened. It was only right for a ruler to meet with her subjects, that much she would grant. Once a night, when she had the opportunity and desire, she would hold time to have an audience with the citizens of Equestria one by one. She would speak to as many as she had time for or cared to, then proceed. It was what a good princess would do. Though frustratingly, but perhaps not surprisingly, most ponies came to ask the same question.
“Please, princess, won’t you bring back the sun?” Asked the farmer, whose straw-blonde mane turned ghostly silver in the moonlight, and whose name was of little consequence.
“No.”
“I know it’s a sore subject for ya,” the farmer trespassed, “but-”
“Then you know better than to ask such a thing.”
“I’m sorry, your highness.” The arrogant farmer stood straight and continued, “I’m not sayin’ it lightly. Without the sun, crops just aren’t gonna grow. We farmers are strugglin’ already.”
“Adapt.”
“We’re tryin’, but there’s only so much we can do. With no sun, there’ll be no food. Surely you ought to’ve known this’d happen”
There was only quiet.
“What kinda princess lets her ponies starve?”
Nightmare Moon did not respond. She remained remarkably still, save for the perpetual wispy shifting of her mane. She gave the farmer a blank stare for several long moments, boring into her soul with her piercing eyes. The farmer’s resolve did not waver. At last, she parted her lips to bare sharpened teeth. Speaking to the obtuse farmer, she extended a final grace:
“Leave me at once, and I shall do you the courtesy of forgetting you were here.”
The farmer stared at her ruler with a hard, stern glare. The insignificant, audacious farmpony expected to move the moon. The farmer blinked. The princess did not. It was a standoff which the puny farmer seemed to actually think she could win. When after several moments the farmer still did not leave, the princess sat straight.
“Very well,” Nightmare Moon hissed in a low, venomous tone. “Guards!” She called, “the dungeon with her for thirty nights!”
The guards came, and the farmer did not fight them. A wicked grin stretched across Nightmare Moon’s face as the farmer was taken away. She met her highness’ eyes for as long as she was able, until at last she left the princess’ sight. The doors fell shut with a heavy boom. Nightmare Moon sat another moment, relishing her victory, before turning in for the night.
For a time, the guards found themselves asking how one was to know when thirty nights had passed. The answer would come unspoken yet clear: thirty nights would pass when Nightmare Moon said they did.
Twenty-Two Nights Since
A celebration was in order. Although the moon was now always full and high in the sky, it would have nearly gone through a full cycle by now. Less than a week until a full month of her rule, and her beautiful night. This made Nightmare Moon happy.
She looked upon her newly completed throne: A velvet seat on shining obsidian trimmed with aquamarine. Curves adorned the top of the throne, coming to a pair of razor-sharp points. At the very top, a miniature white moon was carved into the stone. This was another thing which made the princess happy.
There would be a banquet for the princess and those who had been most loyal to her, and they would have only the finest. Her subordinates had begun planning the night before. The princess had insisted that for dessert, they have a cake made by the finest baker in Equestria. No objections were heard from the castle staff, and the thought of a celebratory cake made the princess very happy.
Until Nightmare Moon’s steward told her that the baker wished to speak with her. This did not make her happy.
“Soooo, princess,” The baker spoke as she stepped into the throne room, “There might be a teensy-weensy little problem.”
“Does this concern the banquet?”
“Well, sorta, it’s just…” The baker poked at the floor with her hoof, trailing off.
“Well?”
A sheepish grin marred the baker’s face as she turned back up to face her ruler. Nightmare Moon knew what was to come before the baker spoke.
“I was just wondering… When is the sun gonna come back up?”
“It will not.”
The baker shifted under the scornful glare of the princess. She couldn’t meet her eyes.
“This concerns the banquet, how?”
“It’s just- the plants aren’t really growing anymore, and ingredients are getting hard to find.Without grass to eat, the cows can’t make milk. And without seeds, the chickens,” The baker stopped and, for reasons unfathomable, made a clucking sound. “Can’t make eggs. And without eggs or milk or flour, I don’t know how to make a cake.”
This was, of course, ridiculous and impudent. Surely Equestria had not run out of such basic ingredients. It was impossible. It was laughable. Even without the sun, the ponies of Equestria would adapt, as they always had.
“Will you or will you not be able to secure the ingredients for this banquet?”
“Well, sure… But if you ever wanna have another one, it might be preeeetty tough. Y’know, until the sun comes back up, that is.” The baker put on an impossibly wide, pleading smile and batted her eyes.
Nightmare Moon tilted her head back and released a single sharp, icy laugh. She leaned down to look at the mare who squirmed.
“You amuse me, little one. You would make a good jester.” She sat back to her full height and let out a contemptuous sigh. “I will forgive you this trespass if you return to your duties.”
The baker clearly had more to say, but she must have heard of the last pony who dared push the subject. She turned, defeated.
“Yes, your highness,” she said on her way out, deflated.
That made the princess happy.
Twenty-Nine Nights Since
A chill blew through the castle, the tapestries swaying with it. After lifetimes on the moon, no place felt too cold for the princess. The breeze carried with it the scent of lilacs and lavenders which she had ordered to be planted throughout the castle in hanging flowerpots. She roamed the halls, approaching her quarters, accompanied by the harsh clacking of her hoofwear against the marbled floor and the whistling of the wind.
Then came another sound; hurried hoofsteps headed her way.
“Who goes there?”
The hoofsteps came to a squeaking stop before continuing at a slower pace. The figure approached and stepped into the light. Nightmare Moon was faced with a unicorn. The unicorn wore a dark blue cloak, and his beard and mane were unkempt. He trembled as he approached.
“My apologies, your highness,” The stallion stammered out as he pushed up his glasses, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Who are you? Why do you disturb me?”
Disturb, not startle. The princess was not afraid of her subjects.
The stallion, who looked like he had not slept in many nights, held a book in the glow of his magical grasp and stepped closer.
“I’m a graduate, from Cele-” He stopped himself and quickly corrected, “From the school for gifted unicorns.”
Great. Another one of her sister’s pests.
“I come because my research has led me to a troubling realization. I think you ought to take a look.”
The book opened and prodded itself toward the princess’ face. Her eyes scanned the words, which quickly made her blood begin to boil.
“L-long story short,” The scholar explained as though his ruler could not read, “I’m afraid Equestria is headed straight for an early winter. Temperatures have already dropped considerably... Without the sun, I’m not sure how much longer we’ll last.”
The princess grit her teeth and, granting the scholar one last courtesy, spoke cold and clipped, “The ponies will adapt. They always have. They always will.”
“I don’t know if that will be possible, your highness,” the scholar said, shrinking back and folding in on himself slightly.
“It is. For any struggle, there is a spell. If there is not one, invent it. That is the job of Equestria gifted unicorns, is it not?”
“But, your highness, I fear that the sun is far too important, without it…” The scholar’s words dissolved into pointless jabbering which the princess could not and did not care to hear over the sound of her blood pulsing.
The sun. The sun. The sun. All these ponies ever talked about was the sun. Nightmare Moon had had it. She wrenched the book from the putrid fool’s grasp and launched it into the wall with a loud thwack. It fell to the floor, sending loose pages fluttering about.
“Be gone! Leave me at once!”
The scholar shivered in place, hooves stuck to the floor.
“You’re afraid of a little cold? I’ll show you cold!”
The princess’ horn lit up, summoning a spell she’d learned long ago. She blasted the blasphemous book with a bright beam. With a flash, a block of solid ice encased the book. Cold vapor spilled from her horn like smoke, and she took a thunderous step forward.
“Don’t dare speak to me about the cold until you’ve spent a millennium on the moon!”
Remembering how to move his legs, the scholar scrambled backward. His mouth quivered, but no sound came out. Nightmare Moon shot in his direction, and by some coward’s luck he just barely managed to evade the beam. His hooves slipped and slid on the now frozen floor as he turned and hurried away.
“Leave!” The princess called after him, her voice reverberating through the cavernous halls. “Leave and never return here! Or you shall spend a thousand years frozen where you stand!”
How dare he? How dare these ponies? The audacity to speak to her this way time and time again. She was the rightful ruler of Equestria. It had been weeks now, but still all they ever did was complain about their precious sun as though there was nothing else to appreciate. Equestria’s brightest could find workarounds for any problem that may or may not arise. To suggest otherwise was tantamount to treason.
Nightmare Moon let out a furious growl. With her magic, she tore the ice block from the floor and hurled it in the scholar’s direction. It landed on the hard floor with a deafening crash. The sound echoed along the walls as the brittle block shattered into a million pieces, paper and all. Only upon seeing the book disintegrated did the fire in the princess’ body begin to cool.