In the Golden Oaks Library, two figures reclined on Twilight Sparkle's guest bed, chewing the fat as best anyone could when death loomed just over the horizon. Summer Glade, a guardspony forced into early retirement to due an unforeseen illness and the complications associated with it, and Reman, a disgraced nobleman from Cyrodiil, were a rather odd pair. One was a human, the other was a flying, talking pony, and both of them happened to transform into monsters once every lunar month. Lycanthropy, as it were, made for strange bedfellows.

“Well, Glade, I guess things are closing an end,” Reman sighed, lying back on the too-soft mattress. Part of him was excited; he'd get some closure, and no one could ever say he didn't die as a true Imperial. On the other hand, there was a small chance of victory, Hope, as he had come to learn over the past few days in Equestria, could be every bit as terrifying as certain doom. “I wonder what I'll do if we make it through this, you know?”

“Yeah; kinda hard to plan ahead right now,” Glade replied, sinking into the bedspread. She was tired after standing vigil over Reman's would-be deathbed for the past three days, a near-tragedy she blamed herself for. Still, she couldn't let herself sleep just yet; her mind, as tired as it was, refused to settle. “I'll probably stay with my folks for a while, get back in the guard.”

“You haven't mentioned your parents before,” he said, rolling to face her. She quirked a brow and giggled at him, aware of his own silence on the subject. She knew he was a noble, probably rich and spoiled as child, but that he was also in self-exile, self-quarantine.

“Well, I expect something from you first, Mister Man o' Mystery,” she laughed. Glade batted a hoof against his shoulder, forcing him to his back with his own laugh.

“And what would that be, Ma'am?” he asked, smiling. Reman rolled onto his stomach and propped his head on his arms, feeling lighthearted and even slightly happy with his current situation. Anything that kept Glade's mind off tomorrow was fine in his book, even if he had to act like a child in the process.

“You don't seem affected by anything; you nearly died at our welcoming party and now you're fine, not ten hours after waking up.” Glade shivered as she remembered the party in question; the celebration was fine, even spectacular, but someone crashed in just after it ended. Glade still had no idea where they were going to get the bits to cover the damages. “There are a lot of things I want to know, but I think I'll only get one answer for an answer, right?”

“Yeah; seems about fair to me, doesn't it?” He clucked his tongue after he spoke, grinning at his pack-mate. Thinking of the little white pegasus as such was still rather odd; he knew it was instinct to think of her as such, a way of keeping his line intact as it spread, what little he'd allowed it to. Forebear and progeny, master and apprentice, alpha and pup, but the connection ran deeper than that. Shaking his head to clear the cluttering thoughts, he smiled as genuinely as he could manage. “Lay it on me, then.”

The mare tapped a hoof to her chin, mocking deep thought as she mulled over her options. There were many, many things she did not know about the Imperial, and it was possible he knew more than he let on, which could potentially leave her at a disadvantage. Lying was out of the question; they were relaxing as friends, cell mates before they were to be executed at dawn. The morbid thought sent a chill down her spine, and suddenyl her question crystallized in her mind. “Does your faith have any sort of afterlife?”

“None that we'll be visiting if we die, sadly.” Reman's laugh was bitter enough to sour grave soil, though he knew it would do him no good to be cynical in such a trying time. Hope, as terrifying as it was, was another weapon of Mankind, and just as it had ushered Joan and Martin Septim to the Temple of the One during the Third Era, it would guide them to a glorious victory or an equally glorious death.

“And you still don't seem too worried,” Glade pointed out, motioning with a hoof to accentuate her meaning. There were several colors that made the portrait Reman called his like, but he seemed intent on muting them as much as he could.“Nihilism a common philosophy where you're from?”

“What will be, will be,” he replied, twirling his hand in an all-encompassing gesture. “Our survivors are the real issue, or at least in my case. Not family, mind you; I'm sure they think I'm dead.”

“My mine would be devastated,” Glade said, her mind drifting to places she knew it shouldn't. Her parents and siblings would grieve, her extended family would send their condolences, and life would slowly go back to the way it was. She would never get to see her niece grow up, or her brother settle down with his fiancee, never start a family of her own. She would miss all of that, a lifetime of experiences and joys and sorrows, all because of an impossible coincidence. “I... I don't want to die, Reman.”

Glade half-expected the Imperial to give her an encouraging word, maybe say it was just nerves, but he didn't do either. Instead, Glade felt herself being pulled into a hug, not too dissimilar from the one she'd given him after he'd recovered from his near-death experience. He smiled at her, and Glade found herself enjoying their now-similar heights. It only happened when she was hovering above the ground or leaning while they both sat down, so while it was a rather common occurrence, it was nice to rest while doing so.

“Glade, if you don't want to fight, you don't have to,” he said, looking her in the eyes. Much about werewolves changed when they transformed, but the eyes remained different, a portal to the soul. They did not change so suddenly, but it was all the more lasting for the delay. Reman's eyes had been green before he was infected, and they'd slowly morphed to their current shade yellowish-brown. Glade's were the standard blue so common in the Solar Guard, but even then, so soon after her infection, he could see flecks of green floating here and there. Those eyes looked up at him a slight bit of anger.

“If you think,” she began, her voice cracking, “that I'm only worried about me, you're an idiot.” Her eyes looked wet, glistening with tears waiting to fall. Reman knew the look, those pre-battle jitters; his father and grandfather had hammered the feeling out of him since he could walk, but self-preservation was secondary to the wants and needs of others; such was the Imperial way. He was just as scared as she was, but he was, in many ways, numb to the anxiety, the uncertainty. “What about you? Zenammu almost killed you, and you're just sitting here like everything's right as rain.”

“I've been living as a lycan for the past four years, Glade.” Reman looked at her and sighed halfheartedly, knowing it would take time for her to understand his reasoning, time which she would hopefully never be forced to experience, if everything went as planned. “It's a little hard to stay negative when your life could end at any moment. It was either move on, or go mad with fear.” He waved a hand in the air in an all-encompassing gesture, smiling in a sarcastic way.

Glade laughed without humor, rolling on her back as she did so. The situation was not as she planned, nor was she ever able to plan for something so impossible in the first place. She was, at the very heart of things, afraid for their lives; Reman, however, had accepted his fate long before ever coming to Equestria. “What about friends? You have some of those, right?” she asked, turning her gaze back to him. “Everypony needs friends.”

“Yeah, I do. Really weird bunch, when you think about it,” he replied, chuckling. “There's a healer, kind of a dark guy, but his heart's in the right place. Then there's another werewolf who keeps calling me pup.” He thought for a moment before nodding his head. “You remind me of his wife, actually.”

“A sexy, sexy guard?”

“A real pain in my ass.”

“Yeah, I'm awesome like that.” Glade moved back tot he Imperial, crawling on her stomach like a jungle cat. There was something in the air, something she could smell, that made the room rather comfortable, even pleasant, to her augmented sense of smell. She sniffed the air, following the trial like an experienced tracker. “Are you wearing cologne?” she asked, bumping her nose against Reman's collarbone. “Because you smell... nice.”

Reman's mind came to a halt for moment; he knew precisely why Glade was acting so strangely, and why he couldn't find a reason to care. Werewolf packs, like their animal cousins, were made of the alpha male and alpha female, who then produced the rest of the pack. Most wolves also bred during the late winter, and he knew spring was right around the corner. Hircine was sending a signal, perhaps to everyone afflicted with his curse, to reproduce, and bring about a new generation of pure-blooded werewolves.

Sniffing the air, he found Glade's scent to be incredibly pleasant, leagues above any perfume he'd ever been choked by. Female lycans had a certain, earthy scent about them, and it was consistent throughout their demographic, changing only with age and fertility. Reman had always been a bit too busy to pay attention while visiting any dens; he always had a schedule to keep, and then there was his engagement. Disgust at his perceived betrayal was enough to curb any desires that would have arisen, but Glade had no such mental block.

“Pheromones, Glade,” he replied, trying not to inhale too deeply. He wasn't going to lie to himself about being tempted by her, but they were professionals, and their relationship was strictly business, even if they were slowly becoming friends.

“What?” she asked, giving him a confused look. She recalled her high school biology class, or at least what little she had stayed awake for, and drew a blank. She knew a little, but not much. “Like perfume, right?”

“My body is asking your body if it feels like tossing these sheets back and...,” he trailed off waving a hand in the air. Glade looked at him and tried not laugh. He gave her a flat look and huffed. “Well pardon me for having some discretion.”

Glade took a deep breath, as though to disprove his point, and sighed pleasantly. “I think you may be right,” she said, shrugging. She moved her mane out of her face and giggled, obviously a little lightheaded from the scents floating in the air. She paused for a moment, mulling over something in silence, before grunting in a noncommittal way. “Your body wants it, you can probably tell my body wants it; it's not like we have much to worry about anymore.”

“What in Oblivion are you talking about?” he asked, knowing the answer already. Part of him was elated at the thought of something as simple as sexual release, but an equal part was appalled as he studied Glade's body in earnest. Her anatomy was foreign in the extreme, more so than any Argonian or Khajiit Reman had ever met, there were obviously similarities to be found.

“I'm talking about us, she began, pointing a hoof between them, “taking a roll in the hay.” Reman kept his face still, not wishing to give any positive or negative signals until he had thoroughly made his decision. “Oh, don't give me that look; I'm only talking about us have a bit of fun, blowing off some steam before our nerves fry.”

“You aren't thinking clearly,” he said, still on the fence about taking her advice. “I'm interfering with your thinking.”

“Then I'm interfering with yours, too.” Glade gave him a winning smile, having thrown all caution to the wind. “My feral moans might be affecting your mind.”

“Pheromones,” he corrected.

“I know what I said,” she replied, giggling. Seeing he wasn't too enthused about her joke, she pouted. “You said we might not survive the fight with Hircine, right? So, us being the rational adults we are, we should be able to reach an agreement.”

“I'm engaged,” Reman said, bringing up one of the few facts that made Glade cringe. Infidelity wasn't something she wanted to be any part of, especially if she played the part of home-wrecker. “Which would have ended after I fled from home,” he relented, admitting it to himself that his chances at a future with Lynette were over, and had been for quite some time. Glade put her forelegs around his neck and drew him in, hoping to ease his discomfort. “I'm sick of thinking about dying, about everything I've lost.”

“Then let's be alive tonight. No future, no past, just you and me.” Glade said as she looked into Reman's eyes. Her lips were curled into an impish smile, and her half-lidded eyes promised much more than simple fun. She tightened her forelegs around her forebear's neck, pulling him towards her. Their lips met with more heat than either expected; the Imperial growled his approval, while Glade hummed and squeezed him closer. One hand snaked to her flank as another left a feathering touch up her back, trailing like a ghost until it found its resting place between her wings. Her wings reflexively popped open as she gasped, breaking the kiss and looking at Reman in slight embarrassment.

“I didn't do anything wrong, did I?” he asked, unsure of his mistake, or if he'd even made one. His last intimate encounter was nearly half a decade ago, and with his fiancee, Lynette Jemane. She hadn't been difficult to please; her anatomy was roughly equal to his own, though her ears had a touch of elven sensitivity. Glade's wings, and the number of nerves that surely ran through them, complicated the issue more than he liked to admit.

“Not by half,” she replied, red in the face. Quickly, she retracted her wings, and buried her face in Reman's shoulder. He sniffed the air a few times, as he habitually did every few minutes, and found something rather interesting floating in the air. The scent was vaguely familiar, though he hadn't had a chance to sample it after his sense of smell was improved, but there was no denying the effect it had on him. With a growl, he lifted Glade from his lap and nipped at her neck. “Yeah, just keep doing that,” she said, her voice wavering as he went to work.

He laid her down and went about doing just that. He bit her neck just above her chest, sucking on the trapped flesh for a brief moment before continuing downwards. More than a small part of him delighted in every little noise Glade made, every approving murmur and whimper she made as he kept her hind legs pinned. His eyes darted up and caught her gaze as he neared the center of her stomach, mourning only for a moment her lack of breasts. She looked back at him with flushed cheeks, no doubt smelling her own pheromones as they blanketed the air, playing with their senses like a flame dancing in the distance.

He grinned as he trailed a hand up her leg, stopping only just out of reach. He repeated the process with the other, massaging the tensing muscles as he went. Glade tried to force her legs together, though it was unknown to either of them if this was meant to funnel Reman in or keep him out. She sincerely hoped it was the former. He kissed just above her puffy labia, almost jumping as he felt the flesh beneath his lips wiggle. The motioned was repeated a number of times, eliciting a wet noise every with every contraction. He snaked his tongue down for a taste, but was again shocked to find her clitoris disappeared within her warm, wet folds.

“Naughty, naughty mare,” he said, recalling his lessons in horsemanship. He felt Glade shudder beneath his grasp, and, much to his enjoyment, she winked again. Accepting the invitation, he wrapped his lips around her engorged clitoris and gave a gentle suck, letting his hands drop to the mattress as he felt Glade's thighs stop squeezing. He flicked his tongue once, sending a brief shudder through her, and slid a finger through her slit.

“Why did I figure those things would come be useful for something like this?” she asked as she saw Reman bring up a second finger. She bit her lip as he slipped them in, but was curios as to why he wasn't thrusting with his dextrous digits. Her silent question was answer when he curled them upwards, careful that his nails didn't irritate or cut anything delicate. Glade gasped at the sensation, not quite expecting it, but she certainly wasn't complaining. He rotated his fingers clockwise, while his tongue circled her clit in the opposite direction, hoping the differing signals would provide a more satisfying experience.

Glade moaned and draped a leg over his back, lightly pulling until it rested just past his neck. Every little motion, every little bit of suction or pressure he applied sent lightning up her spine, and she voiced her approval. There were no bawdy screams like in some colt's fantasy, or complete, deafening silence, but a firm middle ground of arrhythmic breath and half-choked groans. She felt herself coming closer and closer to the razor's edge, and then... nothing. Reman stopped moving, not even pulling his fingers out or moving his face away; he did nothing.

“Please?” she asked, hoping this was some ploy to get her to beg and not him giving up. She looked down to see him smiling, staring back at her. He only continued his ministrations to keep her as close as he could, and succeeded perfectly in doing so. A rub of particular spot inside, a slow motion of the tongue, all to keep his fellow alpha just barely away from bliss. This game continued, with Glade unable to use her legs to squeeze him in without him withdrawing his fingers, and lacking any desire to pull away herself. “You can't be se-”

Seeing Glade with her cheeks flushed, eyes half-focused, and mane wet with sweat was a rather powerful experience for Reman, and he was more than happy to give his chosen mate what she desired. Before she could breath the final word of her protest, he went back to work, and none too gently. He sucked on her button jest as he flexed his fingers, keeping both actions as firm as he could. Glade's hoof pressed against the back of his head, drawing him in just as she crossed the threshold.

“Fuh-uck,” she cried, contracting around Reman's fingers and releasing a small stream of her own fluids over his hand and chin. He kept suckling on her clit, letting her ride through her orgasm as he withdrew his soaked hand. Her hoof trembled on his head, slowly pulling away as she went limp, unable or unwilling to hold a sitting position any longer. He smiled and crawled up until he was at face level with her, then lied down next to her to observe the fruits of his labor. He didn't expect her to pull him in, and certainly not force him on his back.

“Someone's a little excited,” Reman joked, looking at Glade. She was smiling, a mixture of relaxation and desire radiating from somewhere behind her pearly teeth. She just growled and rubbed herself against his stomach, stopping only once she'd left a noticeable trail.

“Now it's my turn to take charge, Mister Alpha Male,” she said huskily, raising her hips and shimmying back until she was in position. She paused for a moment, then held up a hoof. “I'll be back in one second,” she said before jumping off the bed, leaving Reman naked and slightly confused. Glade dug through her saddlebags, looking for the box of condoms she knew she packed. It wasn't that she was expecting to get laid while in Ponyville; she was just told to take everything of hers from the barracks that she could. She looked at the box, then back to Reman, before making her decision.

“Forget it,” she said, jumping back onto the bed. She positioned herself directly over Reman's shaft, and sank until she was sitting in his lap. He groaned and leaned back, while Glade suppressed the urge to get right to business. “Let's see how you like waiting.”

She rolled her hips forward, getting a feel for the organ she hadn't bothered looking at. Given that he was taller than she was on her hind legs, and easily three time her weight, it felt like she expected. She experienced a bit of discomfort as she returned to her original position, not used to being as full as she currently was. She rose off his shaft until only the strange, spade-like head was still inside, then slammed back down. She bit her lip, not expecting to sink as deeply as she did.

“You okay?” Reman asked, genuinely concerned. He knew Glade wasn't a virgin, but he also knew injuries could occur during intercourse, and much more often than most people knew.

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” she replied, wincing. She winced as she tried to move, actually kind of impressed she managed to punch herself in the cervix. Her mate recognized what was hurting her, having seen it before, and knew how to remedy the issue. He rolled his eyes and moved his arms under Glade's legs, pulling her off him and trading places, allowing her to rest against the mattress. “This is bullshit,” she said, crossing her forelegs in frustration.

Rather than replying, Reman slid himself back into place, eliciting an unnecessary clench from Glade as she braced for another impact. She bit into his shoulder to muffle a groan, not hard enough to break the skin, but her fangs would definitely leave marks. Lying on her back was something new to Glade; when she wasn't on top, she wasn't facing the stallion. She wrapped her forelegs around Reman's shoulders as he started thrusting.

She found herself biting down in rhythm, relaxing every time Reman withdrew, and clenching at every ingress. It wasn't that he was rough, but the angle of penetration was new and she was loving every second of it. Taking care not to cause her undue pain, Reman increased speed, not even wincing as he felt Glade's teeth start to reach nerves. He slid a hand under her to help support her weight, bracing just between her wings. Remembering her earlier reaction, he brushed his thumb against the base of her wing,and grit his teeth as she squealed and clenched around him.

The added constriction sent him near his own peak, and he was determined to make the most of his dwindling time. He knew Glade was still recovering from her first orgasm, so he used her added sensitivity to hammer her into another before he finished. He gripped her waist and added forced to his thrusts, forcing Glade to let go on his shoulder and scream. Reman knew he was out of practice, so his stamina was laughable compared to his teenage self, so he estimated he had another minute. He moved his hand until it rested just above her slit, snaking his thumb until he found her clit once again.

“Oh, th-” Glade's voice trailed off before she could finish that statement, becoming little more than a throaty groan as the onslaught began again. Reman's thrusts grew more erratic with every cycle, and Glade knew precisely what that signaled. With one final push, the Imperial growled as he lost control, spraying inside her depths. The mare's head jerked forward, biting into his shoulder with as much force as her jaw muscles could muster. Static showed in her eyes as she came, wrapping every limb she would around the Imperial and refusing to let go.

Breathlessly, they turned onto their sides, still facing each other. Reman's shoulder bled onto the bed, but hardly rated any sort of concern. Glade smiled, showing her bloody teeth, but the gesture remained one of quiet satisfaction. “I haven't gotten any in months, and that was a hell of a way to get back into the game,” she said.

“It's been around four and a half years for me,” Reman confessed, looking, for once, a little embarrassed. Glade, however, took that as a challenge. From what little she knew about Reman's exile, he had been a little too busy for anything other than surviving, so she realized he may have been a little pent up. She also had a solution in mind that was rather enjoyable for all parties involved.

“Nearly half a decade, huh? I guess we'll have to make up for lost time once this is all over, then.”

Author's Note

Well, that's out there now.