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Insurrection begins quietly.

It seeps in, waving hello and smiling good evening, as harmless and pleasant as the stars in the sky; it is small and petty, easy to ignore when one is distracted by more pressing affairs, reward and punishment, matters of state. Feasts and council meetings, celebrations with the candles burning low.

But it murmurs and whispers, elbows nudging against each other as the Queen looks the other way; a tastefully located pillar shields them from prying eyes, and as the violins shift their tune and the dancers spin, knowing glances are subtly shared. And when she turns to look they give her a beaming smile and raise their glasses full of sweetwine, rich and intoxicating, and join their voices in cheer. She is loved.

But when the hour grows late they head out the castle grounds, popping a silver coin to the guard by the gate. And when they step into the oven-like heat of the tavern downtown, bawdy songs and careless laughter disguise their voice; mugs of beer clink merrily as the ale flows freely, thin yellow stuff not half as fine as the castle’s flagons but twice as strong. This establishment is frequented by castle guards and soldiers, who spend their pay drinking their headaches away, which has grown much cheaper than a proper meal in recent weeks.

And it’s to them that Insurrection speaks, laughing along to their jokes, nodding empathically when they talk of their families, their foals. And Insurrection stirs, in shadowy alleys and behind barred windows, by the cover of wooden awnings— And behind it all is Hunger, the great ancient killer that knows no gods or queens or lords, the despair that follows Her Majesty’s subjects to bed at night and pokes at their guts when they get up to meet another moonrise in painful jabs. And Insurrection begins.

“…Holding two vases, three loaves still warm from the castle kitchens, a small wheel of cheese, and as many coins as they could carry when they were caught,” The pegasus soldier reported, voice strained. All around the assembled members of Queen Luna’s council offered wordless responses; the teal-haired treasurer was brimming with anxiety, while the sly-eyed mare that led the Night Guard was still enough to be carved from ice.

“And these two ponies, when they were caught, could they truly be confirmed to be making an escape?” Asked Winter Laurel, crystal pony armorer and head blacksmith, sitting two seats to the queen’s right.

“How not? Do you really think they meant to go to the shops for a merry cup of ale, show a couple of priceless relics around and frolic back for bedtime?” Snapped Belladona Blossom, whom friends and enemies alike called ma’am to her face and the cruel flower to her back. The batpony head of the Night Guard had all of a warrior’s skill and none of Amore’s chivalry, and her slitted eyes were green with venom.

“You mentioned they made their attempt through the Dawn Gate to the east, ser?” Quietly asked lord Aquamarine, to dissipate some of the tension as Winter Laurel cringed. The pegasus soldier was happy to redirect her attention away from Belladona, and solemnly nodded to the inquiry. “Past six, right as the guard shift was changing,” she confirmed with a nervous flutter of her wings.

“And yet it was a maid that reported the incident, by happenstance. This fresh guard, where were they when our would-be rebels tried to sneak away?”

“Briefly away as he heard rattling deeper in the forest, m’lord. I heard Thyme Sunfair’s testimony myself.”

The son of the lord I had humiliated before my entire court, Luna thought dimly, eyes fixed somewhere in the distance. That was back when Spring was freshly blossoming, and the evenings were still warm. It might have been a hundred years ago, for all that it mattered.

“Briefly away as he bought time for his fellow conspirators to escape, you mean,” Belladona pressed, eyes narrowing.

“It may be that he speaks the truth,” Lord Aquamarine said soothingly, and Winter Laurel nodded in agreement. “He couldn’t have anticipated such behavior from castle folk. If he heard a noise coming from the nearby woods, he was right to investigate. The Everfree Forest has grown wild as of late…” The crystal smith added.

“This ‘behavior’ you speak of is nothing short of treason!” The batpony commander hissed, tapping a gunmetal-shod hoof against the table. “For every pony we catch and forgive, five more steal away under the cover of shadows!” Belladona turned her serpentine eyes to the Alicorn at the head of the table. “Question this stallion sharply, my Queen. Let me do the deed, and I’ll have him singing of all his treasons within the hour.”

“Anything may be confessed under such threats, little of it true and none of it useful!” Winter Laurel said, hackles raised. The gentle crystal pony rarely stirred, but he did so now, stubborn against Belladona’s demands. “The castle guards questioned him, and he willingly gave his report. Nothing good will come from torturing innocent soldiers,” he insisted, eyes glancing at his monarch.

Queen Luna sighed deeply, her great leathern wings shifting uncomfortably as she considered matters. “We have heard all that you have to say, and for your counsel I thank you,” She began, hoping to smooth over the turbulent waters before her. “We will need to reinforce the castle’s security, and snapping at each other from within will only do us harm. My Sister is fallen and her faithful are scattered and toothless; any threat to the Crown can only come from inside our very walls. It is now that we must stand united, as steadfast and loyal as we were when the Moon first rose.”

“What would you have us do with the accused, Your Majesty?”

“Have the two running servants stay in the dungeons for a month, while we consider the severity of their crimes. Conspirators or not, their loot marks them for thieves, and that shan’t go unpunished.”

“And Thyme Sunfair, our blind guard?” Pressed Belladona. Lord Aquamarine squinted.

The Night Queen pondered this for a moment. “Have him confined to a cell, plain and clean, and monitor his letters to his father. Speak no word to him for as long as he remains imprisoned, but do him no harm. He has been questioned fairly already and his answers were given. Very well. It may be that he remembers some other detail after a week in loneliness, since there is no other means to press him.” The dusky Alicorn stood in a soft rustle of velvet, as if to dismiss the meeting.

“Oh, but there is,” said Belladona Blossom, so very softly.

The Commander of the Night Guard looked up through her eyelashes at Aquamarine Seacrest and Winter Laurel, then up at the mare she’d crowned, Bella and her siblings in arms, all those that had carved a bloody path for Luna to reach the throne that was hers by right the night Celestia fell.

“This stallion is son to the lord of Sunfair Falls, whose daughter we hold.”

Lord Aquamarine’s eyes widened. “Little Rosemary Sunfair. A ward of the Crown.”

“A hostage, to be used as we see fit.”

Rosemary of Sunfair Falls, first of the Queen’s cattle, the oldest of the highborn youth Luna had brought to the Everfree to ensure their parents’ loyalty. They were hostages in truth, but were treated with every courtesy; the Queen had grown used to hearing Rosemary’s violin before mealtimes as of late, had seen her flirt with one of the cooks whenever breakfast was served…

They were all looking at her now, hearts in their throats for the precedent to be set. “Lady Rosemary is a guest of the Crown, to be treated gently until such treasons can be proved without the shadow of a doubt. She shall remain under my protection for now.” The Mistress of Night concluded. “Let us lay these ugly matters to rest until the morrow, if you please. I find that I am very tired.”

Council was dismissed in a short burst of chair legs scraping against the floor. Lord Aquamarine and General Belladona bowed as they made their exits, the former relieved, the latter seething with rage. Winter Laurel remained for long enough to give his monarch a shy smile. “The country will thank you for this kindness, Your Majesty,” he whispered, and Luna hoped it to be true.

Winter Laurel was a skilled jewelmaker, but made for a poor prophet. Queen Luna Aetheria, thrice-crowned and once killed, had vouched for the side of violence more often than not in the long years of her reign. When enemies landed by the coasts of the Sisters’ kingdom, it would be the younger Alicorn leading their hosts to war. And when Sombra declared himself Emperor of the Northern Empire and scattered Amore’s dust over the snow, it was Luna who turned the peaceful whites red.

This left much of the diplomacy, lawmaking and treaties to fall on Celestia’s lap, and to this duty she rose with unparalleled grace. As centuries passed and the breach between the Sisters grew deep, Luna would resent the Sun Queen her weakness, her foolishness… and her penchant for love. The sheer devotion she drew from others was known far and beyond the borders of their country, and this the younger royal envied as well.

It was thus that, with her rival out of sight and the Capital taken by those loyal to her, Luna hesitated for the very first time; ‘the punishment for treason is death’, she’d declared once, but during the early nights of her end, the Night Queen would ponder if mercy would do her any good. Celestia had been able to rule with beatific smiles and soft words, and for some reason that had gained her a thousand times as much adoration as Luna could ever know from her own crusades to ensure Equestria’s safety. Weary of war and lonely beyond mortal understanding, the Goddess of the Moon craved to be loved for her kindness the way her eldest sister had been; with no other Alicorn for the people to flock to now, she saw no reason not to offer her own folk the gift of forgiveness and mercy, such as Celestia’s followers had never afforded her.

This proved unwise however, and for each rebel pardoned, ten more would make their way past the Everfree’s dry moat, to shelter in faraway camps out of her reach. Reports of such, along with the general discontent of the farmers and the people they fed, were all that was discussed at court as of late. Every attempt to convince the monarch to tap into her stolen magic and bring back the day, for nature’s sake, was met with her fury.

Eventually, it is said, the dusky Alicorn attempted to attack in full and return to crueler methods, but as she closed her eyes and let herself prowl the halls of the Dream Realm, she found that her magic could not find these rebels, wherever they slumbered. Confused and disheartened, the Queen retired to her chambers earlier and earlier each night, seeking whatever comfort she could in the tower she’d shared with Amore once. And still the fields grew colder, and the people grew hungrier, and the Sun did not rise. And did not rise. And did not rise.

★ WHEEW. to say it’s been anything less than an eternity is an understatement, i know, i know, i hope you can forgive me. i’ll do my best to make the next one some a lil earlier, pinky promise.
luna tries a new approach, but it goes poorly; she’s not her sister, and unless she discovers some edible magical mushroom to feed her country, her stubbornness will cost the population everything. also, the scars on her chest continue to expand— burn marks from sun magic within, struggling to be let out. paintings in the background were meant to be more detailed busts of belladona blossom and winter laurel, but i scribbled over them cause i didnt want the background to clash too much orz
i hope you enjoy this one!! i Promise to let some proper shit hit the fan next update, i just needed to point at my chekovs gun before i let it go off one more time. how are you all doing?? i look forward to your comments as always, i hope you’re all having a good first quarter of ’23!!