War of Sun and Moon

(I would just like to apologize for this being later than planned, and also say that I am somewhat saddened that I managed to find the one story that refers to the rebelion as the "war of sun and moon"(it's a little different- the sun and moon- but close enough) just after typing this whole thing up. Makes me feel less original. D:)

Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria...

Everyone knows the story of how The Mare in the Moon was banished- Luna refused to lower her moon because she felt that noone appreciated her sky, and that she would force them to love her, and Luna used the elements of harmony to banish her own sister from the world in order to protect their little ponies. But didn't that story always strike you as a little... threadbare? So many details, so many questions- How did Nightmare Moon succeed in forcing the sun from the sky? How did Celestia use the elements on her own? And, perhaps most importantly, how long did the night truly last?

Perhaps her use of the elements refers to something more metaphorical... perhaps she used others... or perhaps you should wait to find out. Because this is the story of the precursors to the ponies we all know and love, the story of how Celestia banished her sister, the story of Equestria torn apart by black magic and warfare, and this is the story of the War of Sun and Moon...



*End of the last true night*

As Celestia roused herself from slumber, terror sparked in her mind- she could feel the sun, ever insistent upon punctuality, trying to push itself over the horizon, and she could feel the moon, fighting to repress her charge and hold it's position high in the sky. With a gasp Celestia silenced the sun, instructing it to remain as it was until she could get to the bottom of whatever was happening, and she sought out her sister.

*****

Celestia found Luna in the throne room, though she hesitated to describe the thing before her as her sister- her coat was coal black, and her eyes shone with evil malice as she commanded a platoon of ensorceled guards to clear the room.

"Sister, what have you done? Why does the moon still hold high though dawn is upon us?"

"We have seen through your trickery, Celestia, and We will toil in your shadow no longer. The ponies do not respect my night, they fear it and hate me for they see me as it's herald, and not it's ruler, not their ruler, and so they will see my night, and it will be their doom or their salvation. I care not which."

"Sister, this is madness! You'll kill everypony! Please, see reason and lower the moon! We can talk through your problems, but I swear to you that ponies love you, and they respect you! Please, just lower the moon."

"Enough! We have no more time for your foalishness! Begone from our pressense, and no more attempt to subjugate or decieve us!"

Celestia stepped back as the entire squadron before her turned their gaze to her and stepped forward angrily, and she sensed a build up of energy from the beast wearing her sisters form. With tearful eyes she fled the castle, and made haste for Manehatten, there to prepare a response.



*****



24 hours earlier



*****

Cursive approached the great capitol of equestria, Everyfree City, with awe and reverence, and a profound desire to discover what secrets lay before him. He had heard rumors for weeks now that Luna had sequestered herself away from the world, only appearing to lower and raise the moon, and his mind told him a story was coming, something grand, the likes of which would be told to foals for generations to come, and he wanted to be in the center of it all.

After all, what good is a story teller who can't weave one of his own?

Now, if only he had the bits to find his own way... Ah well! He new well enough how to find his own way for only a handful of bits! for some reason his brain tossed forth a snippet about some alien currency and the amount required to see the galaxy, but, like the many other instances of random, isolated and entirely predictable insanity his mind threw up, he immediately discarded it as worthless, though kept the idea of a book on how to get around for cheap- something like that could be incredibly useful, and if it didn't exist yet his writing it might obligingly devastate his need for it.

By this point he had reached the gate, and a Pegasus guard in silver and gold armour approached him, asking his buisness. "Ah, kind sir, I do not truly know, though, as always, I seek stories and I seek to entertain. Will that do well enough, or must I find another purpose before I continue onwards?"

The guard, to his credit, did not so much as blink at this explanation, and simply motioned forward. With a smile Cursive tipped an imaginary hat to the guard, and continued on, into the city that had spawned a thousand dreams and destroyed a hundred times more. Knowing it's reputation and it's facts, he still smiled wide as he thought of all he could accomplish in a city of such renown. Perhaps he could even find an audience with the princess and tell one of his tall tales, and maybe one that was vertically challenged as well!

*24 hours before the end of the last true night*


A young pony trotted though the busy street, nimbly dodging ponies heading in the opposite direction. She didn't hear their shouts of protest or growls of irritation. Her mind was already too cloudy, repeating the address of her destination over and over like she was scared of forgetting where she was going. Her hooves slapped against the ground with loud clops. The female pony smiled. Sometimes when she is running it feels like she is soaring through the air.

This Pony is Postal Rose, a poor earth pony who has dedicated her young life to delivering mail and packages. It was a fun job. It was like being payed to travel from town to town and watch as curious eyes open a letter, watching their expression turn to one of pure joy. At some times it's a tough job. Always being on the move can tire a pony out, but at least all thing running around is making her stronger.

And then there are times when it's really tough.

Postal can vividly remember one instance when she had only been delivering for a few months. She had received her daily deliveries and began to paw through them, organizing them by location, time and urgency. She soon had uncovered a golden envelope. Postal's eyes lit up with amazement and curiosity. She strongly wanted to see what message was written upon the letter enclosed within this golden envelope. It must be great and important news if with was wrapped with such impressive paper.

But she had taken an oath to always respect the privacy of others. Maybe she could ask whoever this was addressed too about it's contents after it was opened and read. Postal quickly read the address, the rest of the deliveries could wait until this one was safely in the hands of...The Mother of Mister Hoofenton. Postal had smiled, the address wasn't even too far away! With a new strength Postal hurried off to the home of the Mother of Mister Hoofenton, knocking softly.

The female pony who answered the door looked elderly, and by the two feathery wings on her back it was easy to tell her was a Pegasus. The elderly pony greeted Postal with a smile, which slowly grew to a hard line when Postal handed her the important golden envelope. The Pegasus tore open the letter and slowly began to read it. The simile never left Postal's face, until the Pegasus started to cry.

Postal hadn't known what to do. How could such a beautiful letter bring about such bitter tears? Postal had run away, leaving the elderly Pegasus. Postal hoped that she would never get another Golden Letter. But ended up getting one months later. Just seeing the gleaming envelope brought back the memory about the mourning Pegasus. Postal just wanted to run to the princess, or anyone, begging them not to make her deliver it. A golden message never seemed so ugly.

Flash back to where Postal is now. She by now has delivered only a few of these letters. And even now as she runs down the streets, making deliveries she thinks of the meaning of golden letters.

"Left! No no, too far forward. Uurrghh, do you not comprehend what I am saying?" Dropping her practice foil to the ground with a huff, she tried not to feel too upset with the young unicorn colt who had been her recent student. "Please, the idea of fencing is not to harm your opponent with brash swings and hard hits. It is to stimulate the pony with the thrill of combat in such a way that no-one is hurt." Galavanting about like a butterfly who had eaten too much cupcake icing was not the way of a master fencer such as herself. Yet try as she did, it seemed impossible to get him to do otherwise.

"Fine, go off and play with the others of your age. We shall resume tomorrow, and I expect improvement!" Picking her sword up once more, she put it away and dusted herself of the few hits he had actually landed, somewhat painful from the force. Her efforts to try and teach the young ponies some of the other fine arts had gone largely unnoticed, had it not been for Princess Celestia's personal approval, she may not have even seen a point to continuing at all!

Treading down the steps from her training ground into the main courtyard, she found herself sitting by the fountain, staring up at the three ponies as they each poured water from their mouths. Was it that unfair to ask for a little gratitude in the effort she gave? After all, people always took notice of the cake fairs and the harvest parties. Could they not spare a moment for one of her tournaments? No, it didn't seem they could. Realizing that she had been making faces to visualize her thoughts, she quickly returned to staring down at the watery surface.

A glimpse of a rather average pony made her freeze. A pegasus, of course. Those who found it funny to fly about and stir up whatever they could, be it dust, water, leaves or trouble. There was no escaping them, at least for her. Dipping her horn into the water, she shuddered at the cold feeling that helped level her frustrated mood. There was no need to be rude after all, she could be reasonable enough. That is until they became bothersome and began asking for things without consideration for the fact that she didn't have them available.

As cursive flew along, entranced by the scenes around, he felt more than saw a unicorn filly looking up at him, something somewhere between contempt and sadness. He had seen expressions of their ilk before, always from those who felt put upon, those who did good but didn't feel they received the praise they deserved. His opinion on those types of ponies was divided- on the one hand, they did good and their only crime was expecting thanks. That made them worthwhile to be with on it's own. But on the other, simple thanks would rarely be enough- they would need to be placed on a pedestal, held above their peers for the "generous" nature, and what was the point of doing good if you expect to gain for it?

Regardless, the mare was clearly unhappy and it was up to cursive to deal with it. Well, okay, he didn't actually have to do anything about it, but minor things like "Facts" wouldn't get in the way of his mission of goodwill! Striking a pose in mid-air, and subtly telling the laws of physics to go buck themselves by managing to maintain his altitude and forward momentum despite having long sense ceased beating his wings, he dove down to approach the mare from the ground- few were the ponies, after all, who enjoyed conversing while being slowly coated with dust and debris from the area around them.

Walking up to the mare, he tapped her on the shoulder, waited for her to turn and said, with a slight frown, "Excuse me, ma'am, could I trouble you for a smile? I seem to have misplaced mine."

The pony known to most as Hat Trick - and to himself, also as Hat Trick - was, at the moment, quite content.

He was not happy, joyful, exuberant, or ecstatic, or any variation of these. You see, Hat Trick had developed a heavily categorized system of organizing happiness. Right now, he was leaning to the 'Graciously' side of the spectrum of 'Content,' but could be more accurately described as 'Blissfully Oblivious' in regards to the relative schema.

In fact, 'Blissfully Oblivious' might have been a good name for Hat Trick had he not been named Hat Trick. As it so happened, was in town to purchase supplies from the local cloth merchant - to weave in to hats, garments, and other necessities, you see - and he was so dreadfully absorbed in both the cheerful tune he was whistling and pleasant thoughts about the organization of various fruit, that he did not even notice that he was crossing the path of a speedy young mail pony, whom he would have noted to have been in quite the hurry - if he was in any condition to notice anything around him at all.

Checkmate trotted through Canterlot as he left a bookstore, nose deep in his book for this day. A quick review of common strategies he'd already memorized sure, but these came with memos and notes purported to be from the very masters of their invention. He'd found some of them insightful, many of them worth a chuckle as they were from ponies who did not apparently take themselves as seriously as their role warranted, and a few just unhelpful. Ah but you rolled the dice and took your chances with anything you did, and just because you made the wrong move now didn't mean you couldn't ix it later. Undoubtedly some of the insight contained within this tome would prove of use to him one day... some day soon he figured.

Ah but one could read for only so long. Soon, Checkmate found himself needing to actually look where he was going, and sooner still, the book had to be put down and stowed in his bag, for it was time to eat. A pony of his current station could afford to not eat at home on occasion, and he was going to exercise that right. Hopefully he could just find a fine little place and settle in for some good food. Of course... finding somewhere was going to be important. He had eaten many places in town, of course, but he found himself doubting any of his usual locales. Today... today screamed for something more. Something about today just felt off. The gravity of this sudden feeling sent him stopping in the middle of the street at he looked around. Not the nicest part of town huh... exactly where he felt like eating then...

The buildings here were more or less unfamiliar to him, they were less like the inner part of the city where he had always chosen to spend much of his time, and were far closer to that of a more normal city. Less regally hustled and bustled, and far closer to those of the every day ponies. Maybe here is where he would find today waiting for him... well then, he had best take the first move.

Turning at last as the pony she had observed stepped up and tapped her on the shoulder, she couldn't help but give the smile he had so cleverly requested. Perhaps her original opinion had been in haste, rare was it for her to find those who had such a mind. "I do wish I could provide you with it." Balancing herself carefully, she stretched out her fore hooves and pulled the sides of his mouth up into a cheesy grin.

"There we go good sir. Might I say that you have quite the way with words. I find myself more favorable with the harmless blade." Turning to display her mark proudly, she noted his own. A scholar perhaps, or at least someone who found interest in reading. Surprising to say the least for a pegasus, she had expected such a mark would be present on one of her own kind.

Tilting her head down as her eyes scanned elsewhere, she pawed at the ground for a moment before looking up. "So tell me, what brings a pegasus of the literary realm to the presence of Balestra Fleche, Princess Celestia's appointed fencing tutor?" Over the back of the stallion, who looked similar to her in many ways, save for the wings and mane, she noticed one of her students approaching once more. "Oh, do excuse me good stallion, but I must attend to my student for a moment."

Cursive gave a gentle laugh before stepping aside so she could speak to her student, "Ah, I could never keep you from your job, if you wish me to wait anon, then I shall."

He briefly considered his luck in having come across someone likely well read, or at least well taught, for they always had the best of stories, or else were those around whom the best of stories rotated. And really, there was little of more worth than helping those with little reason to smile to do so, regardless of the means.

Making her way over the amber colt with a rather vibrant mane of green and red, she tutted at his untimely approach. "Charger, am I not mistaken in thinking that your lessons are not today?" Seemingly ignoring her upset state, he pounced around for a moment as she stood there, her smile quickly fading. He was very good at the sport, a little too good for his age and her comfort. But he was very energetic.

"I know..." Bouncing on his way beyond, she rolled her eyes before returning to the conversation. "My apologies, he is yet to learn the art of self control."

Postal, without stopping for a break, continued to trot towards her destination, a grin spreading throughout her face as she got closer and closer, slowing to a slight trot as she approached guards. As soon as Postal arrived at the Gates to Everyfree City she began to experience problems. The two Unicorns, both dressed with fine, shiny armor blocked her path with their horns, as if showing them off. They demanded to know her purpose for entering the city. Postal kept her cool as she calmed explained to the two Unicorns her job as a deliverer and went as far as to showing the her bag as if it wasn't clear enough.

They continued to question her, looking her up and down, wondering why a dirty Earth Pony was entrusted with the duty of delivering mail. At this point Postal was starting to get desperate, rubbing her hooves together. She had many deliveries to make and needed to get inside the city. Postal broke her eyes away from the guards in time to watch a pure white Pegasus with a neatly brushed mane and tail enter the city.

Postal tried not to get huffy or emotional, she just swallowed back a sigh, in fear of being attacked.

Cursive smiled widely at the young colt's exuberance. "Oh, I hardly think a lack of self control is a bad thing at that age- it merely means he is still a foal! Now, back to the issue at hand- I was simply wandering, and could not leave such a travesty as a beautiful mare such as yourself upset. Perhaps you could tell me what had you so concerned?"

She tried not to look contempt with his persistence. Beautiful mare, coming from a pegasus she wasn't sure on how to react. Still, it was a friendly gesture all the same, and she owed him enough to give a reasonable explanation. "Oh, I just find that my attempts to educate students aren't appreciated, mainly by the students themselves. But it seems that no-one cares for my favored sport."

Pacing around in a circle, she tried to reason it out to herself. "Is it too unreasonable to want to see a little more interest in learning the art? It isn't exactly the sort of thing which you can enjoy by yourself, or in a short amount of time. It's something that requires effort to receive enjoyment out of, do others not want to choose such a path?"

"How do you make it interesting? No, no, I see where you're going to go, and just because it's interesting to you doesn't mean it is to everyone. Think about it- who do they see with an expert skill level in... I would guess fencing, yes? ah, good... they see you, they see a handful of guards, and that's really about it. What's exciting about that? No, what you need is to catch their attention... I must say that I rather lack in regards to real life stories regarding fencing and sword fighting as something that might inspire, but surely you know of some war-hero or another who used the art to push back an enemy attack, or win a decisive battle, or some other fascinating event? Such a tale will catch their attention, and, once caught, you will find them far more pliable to your teaching."

She listened to him as he spoke on. Catch their attention with a tale of a fencer who had done daring deeds and proven his or her skill in actual situations? "I don't really know any honestly. I guess you're right, but I just wish there would be someone who had a talent like mine..." Sitting down on the fountain edge, she couldn't help but feel glum. Nothing that would attract attention to her profession like he had suggested, unless...

"Oh, I know! Perhaps I should go out and demonstrate my talent to earn a tale worthy of being told to all!" Getting to her feet gleefully, she ran around in circles around the fountain out of excitement, until she quickly realized she was stirring up more dust. Stopping in front of the pegasus, it occurred to her that she hadn't caught his name. "Might I inquire what your name is good fellow?"

"My name is Cursive Writ, Madam, and if you do so find, or perhaps create, such a tale be sure to find me- I would very much enjoy a chance to tell your tale alongside my many others. Now, I see your spirits have raised themselves, and so I must take your leave- I must acquire a permit for performance, and then from there must ply my trade to earn my keep for the night, and so I bid you adieu." placing one hoof upon his chest and using another to pretend to sweep a hat from his head, he beat his wings in order to hold himself upright as he bowed to the mare, before turning and continuing on his way. "Perhaps I will see you again, Ms. Fleche."

With a quick hop, he took to the air and was gone, smiling widely all the way.

Reluctantly Checkmate was forced to conclude that he was wrong, or he mused, fate had merely moved a pawn and was biding it's time. Regardless it was time to carry on. With a trot, Checkmate left and headed further in town, looking then for a street vendor. Street food would be quick, and of some comparable quality to the food he was about to have chosen to consume anyway, but would also give him the bonus of less needing to think. He merely need find one, and they would certainly do the rest for him.

About an hour later, Checkmate walked away from a most kind vendor, fresh greens now gracing his mouth. He'd even grabbed an apple for later, which he'd placed within his pack. Now then... he supposed he should be heading home. Ah the thought of getting there made him lose focus of where he walked for now. Books and his by mail game, were his letter to come in from his pen-pal on the other side of Equestria to have sent him his letter, waited for him there.

Hat Trick, momentarily stunned by the passage of the mail-pony, was quick to recover both his wits and his hat. He reminded himself why he had undertaken the lengthy journey to Everyfree; to procure special materials for an even-more-special project.

A cloth vendor, and good friend of Hat Trick's, lived mere blocks away. The two of them had been good friends ever since they first met as fillies; they even attended the same school, and earned their cutiemarks together. It would be fun to catch up!

Whistling through the busy streets of Everyfree, Hat Trick shortly found himself upon the doorstep of his friend's fabric shop, and rung the bell eagerly, only to be met with an unfamiliar face at the door.

Upon inquiring as to the whereabouts of his friend, who got about by name of Woolie, the mare dismissed in a harsh tone that Woolie had moved out three weeks prior before slamming the door in Hat Trick's face.

That was certainly a surprise! Surely, Woolie would have contacted his best lifelong friend?

Though, to be fair, Hat Trick hadn't checked the mail in months; it had piled up in his backyard. Now, he was glad he had decided against burning it; Hat Trick set off towards his home just as cheerily as ever.

Watching him leave caused her to stand there in half surprise for a few moments. Rather abrupt an exit, but their brief conversation had given her new hope all the same. But of course, she had students to attend to, and she couldn't just abandon them to search for a quest. And the chances of a quest falling into her hooves just like that was highly unlikely. "Mais comment vais-je échapper à ce cauchemar de désintérêt?" Her head hung low as did her tail while she slowly made her way back up to her stall in the guard stables. Part of her mind reasoned that half-hearted students wouldn't mind that much if she just left for a while anyway, but she couldn't bring herself to carry out such a plan!

Cursive soon found himself at the entrance to the royal palace, last in a long line that was still somehow moving forward, waiting for audience with Celestia, or to be redirected to any number of lesser clerks. As he waited in the line, guards walked along asking ponies their reason for the visit and redirecting them to a more suitable goal where needed, and, he noticed, surreptitiously examining cutiemarks as they went. His mind juggled the question of this action, trying to determine the cause of such a thing, and was just settling upon a check for potential criminals, comparing each one to a list of cutiemarks for known criminals, when they came to him. They begin to question him, but the words die on their lips when they see his cutiemarks, and, eyes hardening, they ask him to follow them out of the line.

Cursive follows cheerfully, even considering humming a tune before being angrily shushed, an act that entertains him no small amount due to the seriousness with which it was delivered, and skipping in place whenever they stop. 'Well' he thinks, 'that's one theory dis-proven.'

Checkmate soon found himself back to the guard's quarters in a few minutes time, as he slowly strolled inside the gates that lead to such. Timing it rather perfectly, Checkmate arrived just in time to watch a pegasus fly away, and upon entering, notice a rather familiar unicorn walking towards her stable. "Balestra? Who was that?" he said, moving towards her. In hindsight, he didn't recall talking to her too much ever before, but there was a first time for everything, no? She looked kind of sad, too... maybe he could fix that? He wasn't exactly one to just leave people sad if he could help it, it wasn't right.

Settling down for a drink, no sooner was she relieved before one of her fellow guards made his way over. Check Mate, on occasion she'd settle for one of his chess games, but of course she didn't do very well. Hit and run didn't translate that well into the game for her liking. Still, he was a decent fellow, and they didn't get much of a chance to talk. Perhaps he would have more insight into her dilemma. "A storyteller, he provided me with an idea to help with my students. But I'm afraid that it has now left me in a dilemma now." Pawing at the ground again, she looked around in paranoia, admitting that she had woes wasn't something she really enjoyed.

Ah, her students. Checkmate had seen her teach the art of fencing a few times, out the window. He never cared too much for sword play, but he respected the art at least on principle. It shared many similarities with his own talent if one looked deep enough. This wasn't the time for that though, she looked rather off put, and had said as much anyhow. "What do you mean you have a dilemma?" he said, tilting his head confused. He wasn't really quite sure what a story teller could do to demoralize one of the better guards in his opinion. At least she knew how to fight. That was more helpful than some of the other people he had to work with, and constantly plan to have to one day micromanage.

A sigh came as she paced around to try and reason things out, tending to the care of her mane as she did so. Oh the advantages of being a unicorn were so clear. "He suggested that I use tales of the art that would leave them in awe as a method of keeping them captivated. But I do not know of any at all, and I have researched it quite thoroughly. So you see, my only other option is to seek out a chance to craft a tale of my own, but I cannot just leave them here without certainty of success!" Her efforts to comb her mane through had seemingly been thrown off by her panic, now it seemed worse than before. Huffing in annoyance, she hoped that her friend who always had a plan would know what to do.

"Hm... that is a problem..." said Checkmate, frowning for a moment. "And it was a storyteller who got you thinking of this? You really should have asked him for help. I'll admit I'm not too good with stories, but if you want a tale to tell, you're going to need to take risks and make something happen. Nothing is ever certain, you can only plan around the chance of failure." he mused for a bit, leaning back and forth, before deciding, just on a whim, to float her his apple at the very least. "Here, apple for your thoughts? I was full anyway."

Taking hold of the apple with her magic, she gratefully bit into it while trying to sort out her mane "Thanks. So far, the only real failure I see is not finding something that I can actually do at all! I mean, it would hardly be appropriate to seek out such an opportunity where it is not necessary." The apple tasted quite good, obviously she was late for lunch, although it seemed that night was approaching soon anyway. Had she really missed that much of the day? "Perhaps we could talk over tea then, if you are not already occupied of course. Oh, even if I cannot devise an answer then at least I can think of other things."