Little Moon Princess

Chapter 2: Setting Expectations

The room was warm, the bed too soft, the air too still.

Luna woke with a start, disoriented and groggy. The nightmare that woke her had already begun to fade, but its grip lingered, cold stone beneath her hooves, voices that bled through the walls, the feeling of falling through stars she no longer controlled. Her limbs were heavy, her horn aching faintly from disuse. She had slept, truly slept, for the first time in a millennia. The comfort unsettled her though. This wasn’t her tower. This wasn’t her castle.

She sat up quickly, eyes scanning the room. Clean, understated. A guest chamber, clearly. A silver-framed mirror, a modest bookshelf, fresh fruit on the side table. Everything was peaceful.

Her heart began to race, then the door opened fully.

Celestia stepped inside, wearing only an ivory sash, her mane unbound and drifting gently and her eyes lit up when she saw Luna sitting upright.

“You’re awake,” she said with quiet relief. “Good. I was just coming to check on you.”

Luna narrowed her eyes. “Where are we?”

Luna pushed back the blankets and slid out of bed. Her legs wobbled slightly, hooves unsteady on the polished floor. She steadied herself quickly, but not quickly enough. Celestia noticed.

“I’ve rested,” Luna muttered, wings twitching.

Celestia nodded once, watching her carefully. “Good. Then there are things we need to do. But not alone.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Celestia replied, not unkindly.

Luna’s wings lifted, more in reflex than threat. “Do not speak to me as if I am fragile-”

“But you are,” Celestia said, stepping closer. “And there’s no shame in that.”

Luna flinched.

Celestia softened her tone. “You’ve been through more than most ponies could imagine. You don’t have to pretend you’re whole yet.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“This isn’t pity, Luna.” Celestia’s voice remained low, but her eyes were open, searching. “I want to care for you. Not just because you need it, but because I need it too. I missed you. I don’t want to keep you at a distance like before. I want us to heal together.”

Luna didn’t respond. Her jaw was tight. Her ears flicked.

Celestia continued, gentler now. “You’ve been fighting so hard just to hold yourself upright. I see how tired you are. How wary. It’s not weakness to let somepony else carry the weight for a little while. Not when you’ve carried so much for so long. I don’t think you’re a child,” Celestia added. “But right now, you’re vulnerable. And when a pony is vulnerable, they deserve comfort, dignity, and safety. Even if it looks different than what they’re used to.”

Luna’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Her throat felt dry. Her wings twitched at her sides, unsettled. Vulnerable. That was the word Celestia had used. She wanted to scoff, but her body betrayed her. Her hooves felt heavy. Her chest too tight. Celestia said this wasn’t pity. That it was about care. About closeness. But to Luna, closeness meant risk, meant being seen, soft and exposed.

Her attention was dragged back to the present by the sound of magic humming to life. Celestia’s horn glowed.

With a pop and shimmer, a soft changing mat, a container of wipes, powder, and a thick, white diaper appeared beside her.

Luna stared at the items as though they couldn’t possibly be real. Her ears tilted back, her eyes darting between the diaper, the mat, the wipes. They had to be for somepony else. A servant’s mistake. A jest. Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came.

“This isn’t a punishment,” Celestia said quietly. “But it is part of the reform plan put into place after you were banished. You are under my protection until I deem you well enough, magically, mentally, and physically to resume your duties. That includes care, structure, and, yes…some wardrobe changes.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re not fully healed yet Luna and the courts knew it. They called for exile. Some demanded much harsher terms. You know what the old laws allowed. Stripping your horn and your wings. A magical collar. A sealed cell in the Canterhorn dungeons. I fought every option they put forward, because I believe in you. And this…”, her gaze flicked to the supplies, “…was the least invasive option I managed to get them to agree upon.”

Luna’s heart was racing now. The room felt too small, her breathing too fast. “So this is mercy?” she hissed. “Putting me in diapers like a helpless foal is mercy?”

“It’s a plan,” Celestia said plainly. “Not a sentence. A path toward healing I can guide you through, day by day, while protecting you from scrutiny and worse.”

“By making me a laughingstock?”

Celestia’s eyes softened. “By making sure you don’t shatter.”

The cold realization hit her: this wasn’t a ploy. Celestia wasn’t bluffing. This was real. The mat, the wipes, the infantile white garment, it was all real. And it was meant for her. Her stomach turned. Her knees locked. Her voice broke before it could rise again.

“You…you’re really going to do this.”

“I’m going to help you,” Celestia said. “Even if you hate me for it.”

Luna took another step back, her hoof striking the cold bedframe behind her. Her breath hitched. This can’t be happening. Her chest burned, too tight to draw a full breath. The edges of the room began to warp.

“I will not wear it,” she said with scorn. “I don’t care what ponies think. I will not live like this.”

Celestia’s expression didn’t harden, but didn’t waver either. She stood tall, composed, unflinching.

“You will,” she said her voice quiet, but with all the finality of a closing gate.

Luna recoiled. That voice. She knew that voice. She had heard it many times before, aimed not at her but at entire armies. Warlords had fallen silent beneath that voice. She had watched others kneel at the sound of it. And now it was pointed at her.

Her knees trembled. Her wings flared in protest, but it felt pitiful, like a chick puffing itself up at a stormcloud.

“You are my sister,” Celestia said, stepping forward, not fast, just steady, inevitable. “And you are under my protection. Until I say otherwise. You do not get to refuse care because your pride is louder than your pain.”

“I don’t need care,” Luna hissed, though her throat was already tightening, her vision burning.

“You need healing,” Celestia answered, voice low but certain. “And you’ll have it, Luna. Whether you want it or not.”

The words struck harder than any blow. Luna stumbled back again, but there was nowhere left to go. The bed-frame pressed into her spine. Her legs buckled and she slid down, trembling, clutching the edge of the mattress like it could anchor her.

This is wrong. This is wrong. I’m not broken. I’m not a foal. I’m not-

Celestia’s magic shimmered softly, and the white diaper floated closer.

“No.” Luna’s voice barely emerged. She shook her head once, hard. “No, you’re not serious. This isn’t happening.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Celestia murmured.

Luna’s chest hitched. Her lungs stuttered for air. She tried to push back with magic, to scream, to do something, but her horn didn’t respond. Her magic was sealed. Again.

“Stop! Don’t…don’t do this!” Her voice broke, higher now, strangled with disbelief and fear. “Celestia, please-”

But her sister was already lowering her to the mat to the floor.

“No! I said no!” Luna tried to kick her legs, but they shook too badly to follow commands. Her tail lashed, wild and ineffective. The moment the diaper brushed her flank, something shattered inside.

“Please, don’t…don’t make me-”

“It’s alright,” Celestia whispered. Her hooves were steady. “I’ve got you, little one. I know you’re scared.”

The soft rustle of plastic against fur. The gentle press of powder and wipes. Cool and efficient and devastating.

Luna went silent. Her voice died in her throat. She lay frozen on the mat as the tapes were pulled snug, her limbs limp and shaking. She felt every crinkle, every humiliating sound amplified by the silence. Her cheeks burned. Her soul burned.

Her breath finally came in a rasp.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

“I can live with that,” she said. “So long as you’re safe.”

And Luna wept with a broken, stunned quiet, too fragile for fury, too full of shame to move. Luna curled her forelegs in toward her chest and turned away, cheeks still wet.

“Come,” Celestia said softly when Luna had started to calm down. “I want to show you your room.” She lifted Luna to her hooves with her magic when she didn’t move.

Luna didn’t reply. But she followed. Not because she agreed or forgave, but because there was nothing left to fight with. No magic, no power, no escape. Only obedience, or being carried like a child. And Celestia had already shown she would do that too.

The hallway outside the guest wing was quiet, the afternoon light slanting across red and gold rugs in long, angular patches. A few guards stood stationed in their alcoves, giving polite bows to the sisters as they passed. Luna felt their eyes flick briefly toward her, then just as quickly, away.

The padding between her legs made her gait stiff and unnatural. She hated the sound most of all. A soft but constant crinkle that echoed in her ears louder than hoofsteps. She tried to keep her tail tucked discreetly, but the thick padding made it impossible to hide entirely.

Celestia didn’t comment on the silence. She simply walked slowly, keeping her pace easy, allowing Luna to trail a step behind if she wished.

They passed a stained glass corridor, a long hallway filled with brilliant panels, each depicting a major event in Equestrian history. The defeat of Discord. The founding of Canterlot. The banishment of Nightmare Moon.

Luna slowed at that last one. The panel showed a towering Celestia, majestic and mournful, raising the Elements of Harmony against a Nightmare silhouetted against the moon.

She looked…monstrous. Shadowy. A villain out of myth. It didn’t look like Luna at all.

Celestia had stopped a few paces ahead, noticing her sister’s pause. Luna stood there a moment longer, then turned away without a word and continued after her.

They climbed the spiral staircase toward the royal quarters, the outer walls open to the breeze, high enough now that the mountainside sloped steeply beneath them. The sun now high in the sky.

“Your room is adjacent to mine,” Celestia said quietly, at last breaking the silence. “That way I can check on you easily. And you won’t feel so alone at night.”

Luna didn’t answer.

Celestia stopped outside a tall arched doorway carved with crescent moons and shooting stars. A gentle indigo light shimmered from beneath the doorframe, she opened it.

Luna blinked. Her mind reeled. The room was beautiful, but in a way that felt both loving and deeply humiliating. It was unmistakably hers. The colors were familiar: deep navy, star-silver, dark rich browns. Constellations were painted across the ceiling in swirling, glowing patterns. There were thestrals on the walls, and cute, round-faced foals with tiny wings and sleepy eyes, nestled among clouds.

There was no adult furniture. No writing desk. No bookshelf. Instead: a rocking chair, a soft-cornered changing table stocked with folded diapers and powders. There were plush toys, tiny plush parasprites and moon-mice, and a playpen in one corner. And at the center, under a floating mobile of crescent moons and velvet stars, stood an enormous crib.

It was carved from dark wood, etched with stars and shields. The railing was enchanted to shimmer with faint magic. A quilt with her cutie mark was folded over one side.

“You cannot be serious.” Her voice came out thin and high.

Celestia’s tone was quiet, careful. “It was meant to feel familiar. Gentle. Safe.”

Luna turned to her slowly, eyes narrowing. Her heart hammered in her chest, a mix of humiliation and disbelief climbing fast into her throat.

“You expect me to sleep in that?” she spat.

“I expect you to be treated with care,” Celestia replied. “That includes this room. It’s yours.”

Luna took a step back, as if the walls themselves might try to wrap around her. Her voice sharpened. “I am a Princess of Equestria. I once held dominion over the moon itself. You expect me to accept this?” She threw a hoof toward the crib, her wings flaring wide. “Like some helpless foal who needs tucking in and lullabies?!”

Celestia didn’t flinch. “You’re my sister. And you returned from exile so shattered you cried yourself hoarse in your sleep this morning. You’re terrified to be alone. You flinch at shadows and reach for me in the dark. You need gentleness, Luna. Time to heal.”

Luna opened her mouth, then shut it again. Her wings twitched, half-poised for flight, though she didn’t move. She wanted to scream. To destroy the room. To obliterate the soft colors and the shame she felt curling like ivy around her ribs. But she couldn’t. Not with Celestia standing there, calm and impossible and infuriatingly…right.

Her eyes drifted back to the crib.

And the changing table.

And the quiet stack of diapers beside it.

Her stomach turned. Her jaw clenched. “And if I refuse?” she asked, barely able to get the words out.

Celestia’s voice didn’t waver. “Then I’ll carry you in myself. But I don’t want to do that.”

Luna’s nostrils flared. She held Celestia’s gaze for a long moment. Her tail lashed once.

Then she turned, stiffly, and marched into the room.

Her hooves felt heavy, her chest constricted tight around something hot and aching. The plush carpet muted the sound of her steps, but she felt the judgment anyway, not from Celestia, but from herself. Each step forward felt like losing a war.

When she reached the crib, she stopped. Her wings drooped. She didn’t look back.

Luna didn’t move at first. Her ears angled back, her tail flicking once in irritation. After a long pause though she crossed the room and sat stiffly on the very edge of the crib mattress.

Celestia gave a slow exhale and met her eyes.

“You are not being punished,” she said. “But you are being placed into protective care. The room, the clothing, and the safeguards are all of it is part of the formal terms of your return. There are expectations-”

Luna’s ears snapped up. “Expectations?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You mean infantilizations. Ritualized humiliation. This whole farce-”

Celestia raised a hoof. “This isn’t humiliation, Luna. You are not being mocked. You are being shielded.”

“I do not need shielding,” Luna snapped. “I am not some broken thing to be carried about and dressed like a doll!”

“You cried yourself hoarse in your sleep this morning,” Celestia said, evenly. “You called my name until your voice failed. You begged the shadows not to take you.”

Luna’s mouth opened in shock, then closed it again, speechless. She didn’t want to believe her sister, but Celestia also hadn’t lied to her so far…

“I know that isn’t who you want to be,” Celestia said, her voice softening. “But that is where you are right now, and how you will stay if there isn’t an immediate and urgent intervention.”

Luna turned her face away. “You don’t know what it was like on the moon,” she whispered.

“No,” Celestia said, “I don’t. But I know what you were like when you left, and how you’ve been acting since you came home. I know that the brave front you wear cracks when you think I’m not looking. I know that without magic you feel like nothing, and that you’re afraid I see that too.”

Silence filled the room.

Luna stared at the floor, unable to summon a reply.

Celestia waited a beat longer, then continued, more gently now. “Like I said before, the nobility wanted blood. They called for exile and much worse. I gave them this instead. You are to remain under my guardianship and follow the guidelines set out by the crown and medical council. No formal public appearances. No magic. Limited informal public appearances, and no formal titles. This should offer you time to heal, and give you both privacy and protection.”

Luna scoffed, her lip curling. “You expect me to toddle around in diapers while nobles laugh behind their hooves? You expect me to play the broken little sister while Equestria forgets who I used to be?” Her voice shook with fury, but there was something else raw behind it.

Celestia didn’t flinch. “Who did you used to be that you want them to remember Luna? Because right now, that would be a fairy tale monster.” She stated with a pointed tone.

Luna’s breath caught. She turned her head slightly, as if Celestia’s words had unsettled her. Her ears tilted back, but she didn’t lash out again. Instead, her gaze dropped to the floor. “They used to sing songs about me,” she murmured, quieter now, the edge in her voice blunted by something heavier. “Not all of them kind, but… at least I wasn’t forgotten.” A long pause settled between them. “Now you ask me to become someone even I don’t recognize, and call it mercy.”


“I’m asking you to become someone you can live with,” Celestia replied gently. “Not the shadow they still whisper about. Not the image you’ve clung to out of guilt or pride. Just… someone softer. Someone healing. If that feels unfamiliar, it’s because you’ve carried your pain so long it started to feel like identity.” She paused, her gaze steady. “This isn’t mercy, Luna. It’s a beginning.” she said quietly. “And yes. They’ll see you. But only the version we show them. Not a fallen ruler. Not a threat. Just my little sister recovering. Protected, and out of reach.”

Luna’s ears flicked back.

She wanted to shout again, to curse, to tear away the careful language and call it what it was, humiliation dressed in an honorable facade. But a terrible part of her knew the truth: if they ever learned what she had done, understood in the way she still did, they would recoil just the same. The chaos, the ruin, the screams that still haunted her dreams… none of it could be softened by time. They wouldn’t see a fallen princess trying to heal. They would see what the council saw a thousand years ago. What maybe they still would, if given the chance. A monster.

She stared down at her hooves, her voice low and bitter. “So that’s it. Hide me in plain sight. Make me harmless.”

Celestia’s tone didn’t waver. “Make you safe. You tried to tear the world apart,” she said finally, “And now you’re trying to tear yourself apart.”

The words hit harder than Luna wanted them to. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes stung. She hated how close they cut.

Celestia continued, gentle but firm. “You are to remain under my care until I say otherwise. You will be supervised at all times unless granted privacy. Your magic will remain sealed for now. Your garments will be chosen for you. You will be diapered, and yes, expected to use them for their intended purpose.”

Luna didn’t look up. Her face was burning. Every word felt like a collar buckling around her neck.

“This is about healing and that means letting go of control.” She added, seeing the look on Luna’s face.

Luna’s wings trembled against her sides. Her breath came shallow.

“I don’t feel healed,” she said, her voice nearly a rasp. “I feel erased.”

Celestia stood, and moved to sit beside her. “I know,” she said. “But I’m still here. I see you. You’re not erased.”

Luna shook her head slowly. Her voice was hoarse. “You’ve taken everything from me.”

“I’ve taken the things that were killing you,” Celestia said. “And I’m giving you time to become whole again.”

A long silence fell. Luna didn’t agree, but she didn’t argue.

Celestia stood. “It’s time to finish getting you ready for the day. We’re going for a tour around the castle grounds before dinner.”

Celestia offered a hoof. Luna didn’t take it and stood up from the edge of the crib. She flinched slightly as her padding shifted beneath her, a new uncomfortable reminder of the situation she was now in. Celestia gently guided her toward the wardrobe, pulling out a simple dress in deep twilight blue with tiny embroidered stars.

“I will not allow this forever,” Luna hissed.

“I don’t expect you to,” Celestia murmured, guiding her up. “But for now, this is what you need. And I’ll be with you, every step.”

Luna closed her eyes. She didn’t resist, not physically. But every breath, every twitch of her wings, every gritted tooth screamed for rebellion.

She hated the way Celestia’s magic was so careful. She hated that the dress felt soft. She hated the diaper more than anything, but even more than that, she hated the flicker of something she felt when Celestia pulled the dress over her head.

Finished, Celestia walked over and opened the door. “Shall we?”

Luna stood frozen for a second.

Then, tail stiff, spine straight, face cold, she nodded once and walked beside her sister out into the castle halls.