Darkness was all that greeted the eyes of the guard pony. The unseen walls of the room seemed to press against and suffocate him. His head rang terribly, as if he had been clubbed violently. Raising himself slowly, he felt his way around the room with his hoof against the wall. Following it, he explored the size of his new, dark, and cold home. Finishing his tour around the square room, he estimated it to be about ten feet long and ten feet wide.
His eyes began to adjust to the darkness and he noticed a faint but visible stream of light coming from the bottom of what seemed to be a door. Walking up to the door, he searched for a handle or knob. Finding none, he muttered a curse under his breath. Turning away from the door, he walked to the opposite wall, then turned and faced the door again. Galloping quickly, he slammed his side against the door with the force of his entire body.
The heavy wooden door and its metal bolt held fast, and did not move. Again he slammed his body against the door, and again, and again, and again. The only results he got were bruises along both of his sides. The door remained unyielding, mocking him and his futile efforts. Sighing, he conceded defeat and slumped down in the left back corner of the room.
He was trapped and he needed to escape. But why did he need to escape? Where was he and how did he get here? He wracked his brain for answers and some fuzzy memories came back to him. He remembered that he was fighting... fighting against the gryphons with his division. He fought and killed many, but he became surrounded. One of them must have snuck up behind him and knocked him out with a blow to the head. So now he had his answer, however unpleasant it was. He was in one of the dungeons of the Gryphon Empire, awaiting his probable execution.
The thought of his impending death did not upset him. If anything it made him feel lighter, as if a great burden was lifted from him. Slowly and deliberately, he began to page through his memories and his life. The scattered and disorganized memories of his foal-hood were first, followed by the clearer memories of his teen years. After that were his late teens which led up to his twenties and the current date soon thereafter. Sitting at the young age of twenty-five, he had already prepared himself to meet death’s open embrace.
He had led a good life, he thought. A life filled with happy memories and a stable family. His thoughts wandered to those who would be mourning him. His immediate family came to mind, as well as his special somepony. She was his marefriend for two years and he had planned on proposing to her after returning home from this tour. Sadly, he knew now that he would never see his love again.
For some reason, he was dwelling upon his military career. It was rather normal and held nothing remarkable. He had started down at the very bottom as a Private. After a few years of hard work and dedication he worked his way up to Sergeant. Seeking further advancement, he enlisted at the Canterlot Officer’s School. Upon completion he was promoted to 2nd Lieutenant. After another two years of hard work, he was bumped up to 1st Lieutenant.
As he mulled over his life and career, he failed to notice the sound of approaching footsteps. The sound of a deadbolt being yanked back broke his thoughts as the door of the cell next to him was pulled open. He heard cursing and the sound of a scuffle as some poor pony fought in vain against his gryphon jailors. Screaming and cursing angrily, the poor pony was dragged away to his fate.
With a sense of deep and ominous premonition, the soldier knew that he would be the next one to go. Accepting his inevitable fate, he realized escape was impossible. He resolved to leave the world with his dignity and honor intact. He would not give his captors the satisfaction of stripping them away from him. So, he straightened his golden armor and dusted the dirt from his white coat. He sat on his haunches, waiting patiently for death’s servants to fetch him.
He played a select few of his memories in his mind once more, knowing this would be the last time he would see any of his friends or family. He thought of his pals, and how they ended up getting so drunk that they set a bar on fire. He thought of his family, all of them smiling and telling him how proud they were of him. Finally, he thought of his marefriend, the happy times they had together and the happy times that would never be.
A solitary tear formed in his eye. Blinking, he let it roll down his face and fall to the stone floor below. Wiping away the trail of moisture with his hoof, he once again heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway. They stopped before his door and he could hear the jangling of keys and the opening of a lock. The door’s deadbolt was thrown back and light rushed in as the door was thrown inward.
His time was at an end. Pushing his memories back into his mind, he tried to block the incoming light with his hoof. After blinking a few times, he adjusted to the blinding whiteness and stood.
Standing outside the door were two gryphons. One was about his size and had a uniform, dark-brown coloration. The other was quite large and looked like a bruiser. He had the hues of a bluejay, while his lower body was the golden yellow of a lion. Menacingly, the smaller of the two beckoned toward him, expecting him to follow
To the surprise of his captors, he did so. Putting on the disciplined and stoic expression that all guards were expected to maintain, he approached the door and exited the cell. His two escorts seemed to be in disbelief as the dark-brown gryphon turned and began down the long stone hall. The bruiser shoved him forward, indicating he was to follow the other one.
After a long minute of walking, a low dull roar could be heard. With the end of the hall in sight, the roaring got only louder as the soldier tried to puzzle what it was. Leaving the hall, the group entered a very large and spacious courtyard. Stone and wooden bleachers held hundreds of cheering and screaming gryphons, the source of the roar heard earlier.
The soldier and his group were on a large wooden stage of sorts. On this stage were several gryphon guards, while in the middle was a guillotine. The gryphons were holding a public execution of their enemies, and many were eager to see heads roll.
Several bodies were already piled up on the stage, all decapitated. Most had the golden armor of Princess Celestia’s forces, while a few bore the purple armor of Princess Luna. A large pool of blood had formed under the bodies, while another pile laid next to the first one. This pile was the large amount of heads who were now separated from their bodies. Some had expressions of fear or hate, others were placid and calm, as if welcoming death’s embrace.
Upon seeing this sight, the guard had to restrain himself and hold his emotions in check. He never broke his composure, but the disgust at this barbarism made him feel sick to his stomach.
As he was shoved toward the guillotine, he noticed that a body was still locked in place under its blade. The executioner gryphon grabbed the head of the dead soldier and held it high in the air. The crowd roared and cheered madly, while two more gryphons removed the headless body and threw it on top of the pile of corpses.
Nearing ever closer, the crowd turned its attention upon him. Curses, insults, and jeering filled the air, yet the guard remained stoic. The blade was raised while he was pushed down on his knees. Placing the board down, his neck and head were locked in place, directly in the path of the hanging and bloody blade.
A gryphon with polished steel armor came up to face him. He wore the insignia of an officer, and stared into his eyes. He returned the gaze, showing neither fear nor anger, only determination and the acceptance of his fate. Wordlessly, the gryphon officer stepped to the side of the guillotine with his eyes downcast, and out of his field of vision.
The crowd began to chant at a frenzied pace now, demanding his head and his death. Everything was ready and no more time would be wasted.
The soldier closed his eyes and thought of his loved ones one last time.
The blade fell.
The sound of metal hitting metal filled the air.
And the crowd gasped with shock.
Alarmed at hearing the gasps when he should be dead, the guard threw open his eyes. Looking around frantically, he was able to look up and see why he was still living. The sword of the gryphon officer was in the way of the blade, preventing it from falling further. Perplexed, the soldier could only stare at the officer with disbelief as for why he saved him. All the gryphon offered was a small melancholy smile as he said something to his troops.
Quickly, the board was removed and the soldier was dragged out of the guillotine. Cries of confusion and anger erupted from the crowd as the guard was hastily led back down the hallway, away from death.
He was led back to his cell and shoved inside. As the door was locked behind him, he collapsed. He began to weep tears of joy as his life had been spared. The spark of hope appeared before him, leading him to believe that he may one day get home alive. That one day he would see his family and his beloved again.
In the darkness he sat, joyfully weeping while he thanked that nameless gryphon. But the question still plagued him, why? Why was he spared out of all those who were sentenced to die, why him? Did the gryphon do it out of spite? Was it a type of torture? Or perhaps the gryphon had a very uncommon thing in this cruel and evil world. The capacity to feel empathy and compassion, the capacity for mercy.
Author's Note
Another (somewhat?) dark one-shot. Inspired by various songs and by my other dark one-shot; The Cycle.
I've had the basic idea/concept for this story for quite a long time, but I finally finished it as it kept plaguing my mind and distracting me. The word choice and pacing probably could have been better, but I'm decently happy with how this turned out. I always think my writing is crap for some reason, especially after I read something by a talented author. Hopefully I'm improving, hopefully...
Also, I think FIM Fiction should add a Royal Guard character tag or something. Seeing as they are often portrayed as the protagonists in several stories. I'll stop talking now as it's late and I'm starting to ramble.
