Memories and Marriage (ONESHOT) (Luna)


                                            Originally published October 2014


                                            Prompt:


                                            >you are anon, the only human in equestria and earths ambassador to equestria.

                                            >being ambassador comes with one condition, you have to choose a wife.

                                            >the plus side is that she can't refuse your offer for marriage unless she is already married.

                                            >who do you choose, and how would she respond do having to marry some some tall fat creepy hairless neckbearded monkey with no social skills that knows little about her society, barely fits in (if that, despite desperately trying), and has no friends?

                                            >bonus points if you remind her of some sort of monster (such as a minotaur) that she has had nightmares about since childhood.


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                                            > You had always known yours would be a marriage of function first and love second.

                                            > If there ever was to be any love at all.

                                            > In truth, though, you had found the princess of the night even more distant and detached than you had expected.

                                            > You dutifully appeared together at ceremony after ceremony, smiling for the crowds.

                                            > You worked together, hand-in-hoof, through negotiation after negotiation.

                                            > These mere formalities, though.

                                            > The smiles were forced - practiced to look so real sometimes you did not even know the difference, but still forced.

                                            > The work you did, although excellent, still cast you more as professional partners than man and wife.

                                            > Hell, you would bet that there were actual negotiating teams that had a tighter relationship than you and she did.

                                            > Each evening and morning she would abandon you to perform ancient rituals of the moon's movement.

                                            > Rituals whose workings you could not even fathom.

                                            > And each day and each night you would abandon her to pour through reports on the exchange of technological development.

                                            > Technology she could barely comprehend.

                                            > The thing that finally struck the hardest, though, was when you realized she could not even bear to look you in the eye.

                                            > Not even to make a point, let alone in a loving gaze.

                                            > How long, you wondered, had she been snubbing you like that?

                                            > Thinking back, you had often seen her looking away in public - but you had assumed she was merely distracted.

                                            > Now that you spent time "together" at your estate, you became aware that she could never bear to look at your face for more than a few moments.

                                            > Shock turned to annoyance, and annoyance to anger.

                                            > When you sat down the next morning to breakfast, after the servants had cleared the room, you were resolved to force the matter.

                                            "Luna, dear."

                                            > "Yes, Anonymous?"

                                            "I was wondering if you could examine this set of reports with regar- Luna dear, is something the matter?"

                                            > She was turned away, of course, her gaze intently focused out a window, just like normal.

                                            > The anger inside you boiled a little stronger.

                                            > "No, Anonymous. W- I am fine."

                                            "Are you sure? The view out this window is quite unremarkable and unchanged from yesterday; I find the views from the south wing's deck to be rather more enticing... though I have never been able to share them with you."

                                            > The barb strikes home; you can see her wince.

                                            > "We are quite... quite fine, Anonymous. Please, do go on?"

                                            "Are you sure, Luna dear? I am not entirely, sure, you do not seem to be paying attention..."

                                            > "It is fine, Anonymous."

                                            "Could you look at me, then? Just so I know you are listening?"

                                            > "It is... just..."

                                            "Luna dear... look at me."

                                            > Her head swivels to face you, but the second she sees you - your frown and narrowed eyes - her gaze again snaps away.

                                            "Is something wrong with me, Luna dear?"

                                            > "Not with you..."

                                            "Then look at me, please."

                                            > Her neck twitches as if to do so, but no movement results.

                                            > Eyes remain locked on something far away - something far distant even from the view through the window.

                                            > A happier memory, no doubt.

                                            > You stand.

                                            "So, this is to be how it is... my wife cannot even bear to look on my face?"

                                            > Another flinch, and she shakes her head. "That - that is not Our meaning, Anonym-"

                                            "Then why can you not just look at m-"

                                            > "We... We cannot..."

                                            > Her voice is surprisingly soft as she answers, almost a bit... fearful?

                                            > You narrow your eyes, pushing on nonetheless.

                                            "I see. So I am that disgusting to you, then?"

                                            > "N-no..."

                                            "Then why don'-"

                                            > "WE CANNOT!"

                                            > The royal canterlot voice is something you have very rarely seen personally, and never been on the receiving end of.

                                            > Its force is sufficient to stun you into temporary silence, long enough to see her head collapse downwards, eyes squeezed shut with unspent tears.

                                            > In contrast to the outburst moments prior, her voice has fallen to a whisper.

                                            > "We... cannot see you... when We look upon you..."

                                            > Your continued silence spurs her to go on.

                                            > "We do not see you, Anonymous, for though We may not be loving with you, you do not disgust Us."

                                            > Single tears begin to run down her face.

                                            > "Only the visage of the monster Tirek appears before Us, so alike your species appears to Us. We know you are not, yet, We cannot stop it... We cannot stop seeing him."

                                            > Tirek.

                                            > You've seen images of the creature, but he didn't look terribly human to you.

                                            > Maybe vaguely like a Chimp or some other monkey, but not a human.

                                            > Then again, to her...

                                            > Padding over softly, you take a seat at the table closer to Luna - yet deliberately outside her field of vision.

                                            > She looks over toward you - not at, but towards.

                                            > After a few seconds, she seems to understand that your remaining in the room is indicative that she should continue.

                                            > "When he banished Us to Tartarus - my sister, my niece, and I - I... I had just returned from a thousand years lost to my imprisonment in the Moon."

                                            > "We knew giving up our magic would render us all vulnerable, but when he so casually banished us away again..."

                                            > He head lowers once more.

                                            > The strange, endless flowing of her mane seems to have become subdued as her emotions pour forth.

                                            > "We were struck with a deep and rending terror. We feared another millennium lost, driving Us even further from Our ponies - or worse yet, an eternity separated from them."

                                            > "When we were all freed, We ought to have been relieved. But we could only feel disappointment and hatred... at Ourself."

                                            > She snaps around to face you for the first time, her tearful eyes narrowed in anger equal to yours and ears folded all the way back.

                                            > "How could We? How could We doubt Our sister and the newest alicorn among us? Were We still so untrusting of our loved ones to think they would abandon Us... again?"

                                            > The last word is barely spit out, as if she was struggling to bring herself to speak it.

                                            > "We hated Ourselves for our lack of trust... and so We tried to forget. To put that disappointment and terror away, to let it bother Us no more."

                                            > You can see where it is going.

                                            "But then we showed up and when you saw us, you saw Tirek again..."

                                            > She nods, her eyes falling to the floor.

                                            > Not in disgust or fear, but in sadness.

                                            > "We could never forget. Never be free of these memories. And then We were chosen to be your bride..."

                                            > Only now are you aware of what you must have inflicted on her by making that choice.

                                            > God, how had she managed to face you in the chapel that day?

                                            > ...what must every diplomatic meeting have been like?

                                            > To be reminded of that kind of thing, every time she did her job?

                                            > To find one bearing the appearance of the source of her fears in her home - in her bed!

                                            > Slowly you reach out a hand, placing it on her neck.

                                            > You find her trembling softly, but she does not shy away from your touch.

                                            "Why... if my species is so... hard... for you to face, why did you accept?"

                                            > "We thought if We could put this aside again and do Our duty to Equestria, it would purge the... sin of our distrust. It would redeem ourselves."

                                            > Now she does turn away from you, curling up on the floor and staring into the distance once more.

                                            > "But We cannot even do that, it seems. We have failed in every way once again."

                                            > No disgust or fear there... just shame.

                                            > ...no.

                                            "No."

                                            > Her head lifts up a little bit. "No?"

                                            > You scoot off the seat, moving to take a spot beside her on the floor.

                                            "None of this is your fault. This... we have a name for it, Luna. PTSD. It's not a sin or shame - we learned that long ago."

                                            > You lean over, wrapping your arms about her neck and drawing her close against you.

                                            "And while I can't change what happened... I won't blame you for this. I've not been the best to you either; I drew you into this without a thought for what it might mean for you."

                                            > Luna shifts beside you - not pulling away, but an uncertain move.

                                            > "You do not... do not find Us-"

                                            "Am I upset? Yes, but not at you. You..."

                                            > Reaching out, you cup her cheek - rubbing the soft fur there, brushing out the tears that had fallen across it

                                            > Luna cranes her head back, allowing you to continue.

                                            "I know what it means to feel alone, Luna... and I know how much that hurts."

                                            > You can feel her relaxing against you.

                                            > Hoping it is not to much, you lean back a bit and slip a hand beneath her chin, tilting her head up to face you.

                                            > She does not resist, and after a moment's her eyes make contact with yours.

                                            "You mentioned making... atonement for failures. Let this be my atonement, Luna, for pulling you into this without a thought for you. Let me help you."

                                            > "We... We thank you, Anonymous."

                                            > "I thank you."

                                            > She leans into you again, though this time it is not to tear her gaze away, but to rest her head on your shoulder.

                                            > You slip an arm around her neck and pull her close.

                                            "You deserve it, Luna dear."

                                            "You deserve it."