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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Decisions in the Dark
“It is your choice, Luna. The moon, or your surrender.”
My sister says these words with what she thinks is a modicum of sympathy and compassion. As if she knows what it is like to be me.
She stands apart from me, out of my grasp, circling around me. It is all I can do to concentrate on keeping the moon where it is, and to pay attention to her. Were she to strike, I would be defenceless. She knows this. That would be beneath her, though. Striking at me without giving me the chance to surrender? Only a tyrant would do that. If there is anything she is not, it is a tyrant.
“Well?” she asks, waiting for me to speak. She wants to hear my choice. As if it really is a choice. Nopony out there wants me around. Not really. Celestia they love. ‘Thank you so much for gracing us with your presence, Princess Celestia!’ they say, bowing low enough to ingratiate themselves with her. They merely fear me. Why should they not? All I do is rule in the night, when they are most vulnerable and afraid.
I can see one of my guards lying on the ground. He looks hurt, but not grievously. They have just hurt him enough to make sure he would not interfere with these proceedings. Around me, Celestia’s guards look at me with anger, and fear. Those two emotions taste almost the same, with only a slight distinction. It is, however, one I have learned to distinguish.
What can I choose from, in the end? It is either to decrease that she may increase, knowing always that I was never good enough, or to go down and retain whatever sovereignty I have had in exile. Neither differs in great detail.
“You have not offered me a choice, sister,” I say, looking for any escapes. There are none, of course. My sister is nothing if not thorough. My guard I spotted before tries to push himself up, but one of my sister’s slams him back down to the floor.
That decides it, really. How dare they? To punish me for wanting to be loved? To punish these few of my own for being loyal? This has always been her way, to enforce her own rule and call it ‘justice’. Well, then, if she wants me to play the villain, then I will do so. She has taught me well how to do so. I stand up.
“I have-“ my sister starts to say, and she reveals her vulnerability then. I charge forward, calling my armour to me. I can lock it into place just before she casts the spell of banishment.
My last glimpse is of her looking at me, only confusion and despair on her face.
My sister says these words with what she thinks is a modicum of sympathy and compassion. As if she knows what it is like to be me.
She stands apart from me, out of my grasp, circling around me. It is all I can do to concentrate on keeping the moon where it is, and to pay attention to her. Were she to strike, I would be defenceless. She knows this. That would be beneath her, though. Striking at me without giving me the chance to surrender? Only a tyrant would do that. If there is anything she is not, it is a tyrant.
“Well?” she asks, waiting for me to speak. She wants to hear my choice. As if it really is a choice. Nopony out there wants me around. Not really. Celestia they love. ‘Thank you so much for gracing us with your presence, Princess Celestia!’ they say, bowing low enough to ingratiate themselves with her. They merely fear me. Why should they not? All I do is rule in the night, when they are most vulnerable and afraid.
I can see one of my guards lying on the ground. He looks hurt, but not grievously. They have just hurt him enough to make sure he would not interfere with these proceedings. Around me, Celestia’s guards look at me with anger, and fear. Those two emotions taste almost the same, with only a slight distinction. It is, however, one I have learned to distinguish.
What can I choose from, in the end? It is either to decrease that she may increase, knowing always that I was never good enough, or to go down and retain whatever sovereignty I have had in exile. Neither differs in great detail.
“You have not offered me a choice, sister,” I say, looking for any escapes. There are none, of course. My sister is nothing if not thorough. My guard I spotted before tries to push himself up, but one of my sister’s slams him back down to the floor.
That decides it, really. How dare they? To punish me for wanting to be loved? To punish these few of my own for being loyal? This has always been her way, to enforce her own rule and call it ‘justice’. Well, then, if she wants me to play the villain, then I will do so. She has taught me well how to do so. I stand up.
“I have-“ my sister starts to say, and she reveals her vulnerability then. I charge forward, calling my armour to me. I can lock it into place just before she casts the spell of banishment.
My last glimpse is of her looking at me, only confusion and despair on her face.