The Watch

The quarters of a deity are a mysterious place. A physical repository for the metaphysical, they invariably find themselves filled with inconsequential items of incredible consequence. Upon bookshelves rest the personal diaries of history's greatest. In closets hang dresses sown by those long since famous and dead, worn to galas that shaped the world and were subsequently forgotten.

It made sense then, that the watch found itself beneath the pillow of a nocturnal goddess. It was immaculately crafted, if from strange materials. Beneath it's dull aluminum case, dozens of gears ticked away every night, each one formed of the silver it's creator had forged so long ago. It's face was the strange gray stone of his homeland, the numbers and hands carved from the black wood of his unmoving pines. The spring itself was formed from the oil that was his flesh, it's coiled form driving the watch onwards without a single winding.

Every day and night, it ticked away beneath Luna's pillow. Even for the thousand years of her exile, it had ticked away undisturbed. The first night back in her bed, she had slept soundly to the lullaby of its clockwork, reassured that one thing in this world would never change. Always and forever, it kept perfect time for another world.

Until it stopped.

It was the worst kind of realization, the kind that lingered at the edge of thought, too impossible to even be considered, but lurking just the same. For a full day she couldn't put her hoof on it, couldn't resolve what had suddenly filled her room with a slanted unease. It was as though the sun had disappeared from the sky without taking it's light along: a bizarre juxtaposition of absence with presence.

It was maddening in the truest sense of the word, a lingering pain one could neither fight nor dismiss, and yet the lurking unease was worse than the realization of what had transpired. The watch had stopped. That was all she needed to tell her sister the next morning: the watch had stopped.

It was a measure of Celestia's self control that she didn't choke. Not outwardly at any rate. She merely sat at the table, calm and serene, as she struggled internally not to inhale half her toast. A subtle flash of her horn served in place of a cough, and she flawlessly swallowed the rest of her meal.

“Will you be seeing him then?”

The question hung in the air as though from a noose. The tragedy they'd avoided, always dangling just overhead, just out of sight. Luna tried to fill the silence with a bite of her own breakfast, but the food sat stale as ash upon her tongue. She washed it down and shook her head.

“I must.”

Celestia nodded, and almost stood, before Luna's hoof stayed her. Their eyes met, each speaking its peace. Luna had to do this. Celestia couldn't let her. They stayed there, fixed as statues, until Celestia looked away.

“Will I be seeing you for dinner?”

“Of course.”

Celestia simply nodded once more, her faced turned to the window and the rising sun. The room had been built to catch the dawn, but to be the first to greet the light was to be the first to bid it farewell. Already, the room was darker than when her breakfast had begun. She mused on the poetry of this, before standing and sweeping the last crumbs from her person. She turned and left her sister without a glance, unable to acknowledge circumstance again.

Alone, Luna took a few more bites of... she was unsure. It was irrelevant. She stood and dusted herself off as well, and left out the opposite door of her sister. Her hooves carried her down empty halls, along unguarded routes that for most led nowhere. For her though, they led back.

Carpets gave way to stone, and windows to stone. Had she been any other, she would have lit her way down into the shadows, but the princess of the night was at home in darkness. Perhaps such was her curse, to live in gloom, if not of the world then of the heart.

A door loomed out from the stone, steel inlaid with gears upon gears. Gently, she pried the back off the watch, and mated its exposed mechanisms to a lone cog upon the door. Fitted together, they all began to turn, the door crawling with revolutions as it began to open.

Beyond, gray light spilled through obsidian pines, their needles glittering even beneath the sunless sky. Soft white soil pressed against Luna's hooves as she stepped forward, the forest embracing her as she left the door. The watch remained behind, its purpose served.

She passed silently through the monochrome woods, the entire world devoid of sound. All she could hear was the flow of her breath, and the beat of her heart. Already, she could see the black lake, its inky surface smooth as polished marble, reflecting the rough spears of the trees.

She stopped at its edge, and spoke.

“The watch has stopped.”

A lone point rose on the surface of the lake, drawing up into a cone, and then a spire. Taller than her, its tip broadened out into a muzzle, then a head, the oil rippling around a canine's jaws and pointed ears. It opened its eyes, their depths as bright as lanterns, and appraised the alicorn before it.

“So it has.” Contentment mingled with fury in its, his, voice. “And you have come.”

“Yes.” She stood there, eye to eye, and her resolve broke. “I'm sor-”

Like a piston, a rod of oil shot forth from the lake, clubbing her with a wet crunch across the jaw. Before her back hooves could even properly clear the ground, black tendrils seized them and ripped her off the shore, cracking her spine like a whip. Had she been a lesser pony, the strain would have ended her on the spot.

“You are notsorry!” The oil screamed with a tormented chorus, its voice howling like a pipe organ from a dozen mouths in its surface. “Youcannot be sorry!” It dropped her onto its surface, the oil twisting as all those maws descended on her, fangs ripping and shredding with guttural rage.

“I am! I'm sorry!” She screamed, not out of fear, but out of desperation to be heard, tears mixing with her spilling blood. She curled, trying to shield herself from the rending jaws around her, feeling her wings torn readily to bits and then clean off her back.

“You do not know the meaning of the word!” Again, her hind legs were grabbed, this time by cruel fangs grinding against the bone. Pulled free of the gnawing maelstrom, she could only dangle, dripping blood and tears into the still snapping mob below. Across from her face, it glared at her, teeth sharpened and twisted into a rictus of lurid hate. “Would that I could tear you apart and put you back together, a hundred thousand times until I felt satisfied, but even that cannot buy you forgiveness for what you did.”

“I-I know.” The blood dripped into her face, choking her even as she spoke. The oil gave her a callous flick, throwing off some of the blood as though it were shaking a throw rug.

“Then you know what is coming.”

“I do.” She closed her eyes, sobbing silently.

A lone tendril of the oil emerged from the lake, bearing in its grasp a clamp of sorts. Others followed, all manner of surgical equipment born in their grasps. Slowly, almost delicately, Luna's bonds put her upright. The clamps went for her skull, as did the others. The crown of her skull crunched as it was severed, the pink tissue beneath exposed to the impassive sky. The tendrils reached in, and moved through her synapses, searching, hunting.

Time lost all meaning then. She had no use for it, so the oil took it from her. There was only the need for sensation, for those moments that it had chosen. It preserved them, fixed them upon the walls of her mind with nails. Faces. Names.

She knew them all, each one. The progeny of a single night's indulgence, spreading through the ages. A shoot that became her most secret, most precious tree, its every leaf kept safe in her kingdom. She knew them, and now the oil did too.

She watched as the oil sent forth its agents. The ticking ones that would hunt without sleep or fear. The ones that would find her most precious secret, and bring it to judgement under the sunless sky. The ones that she, in her own way, had sent.

One by one, they returned, each one bearing another soul in its grasp. Each one was an innocent bystander to their ancestor’s sin, but that only enhanced their function, allowing the transgressor to better appreciate her trespass. If they had deserved what she now brought upon them, the oil never would have bothered.

Sand Castle was the first, her pale eyes rolling in fear. The oil was careful as it eviscerated her, keeping her alive even after it emptied her body. Then was Peach Preserves, whose ligaments were cut, and body animated like a living hand puppet. Squall Line got to die with his family, all four of them crushed together, the oil only releasing them when their bodies could no longer be distinguished. Tactical Retreat was allowed to fight the puppeted Peach, only for the oil to beat the unicorn down with childish ease, and let her bleed out beneath the gaze of her mutilated kin.

The deaths went on and on, some murdered, some added to the gallery, and with it's grasp upon her mind, the oil made sure Luna felt all their pain. Without a sense of time, the torments slurred back and forth, overlapping and repeating in a bizarre mishmash. Each agony was as fresh as the first, her jumbled mind unable to form a defense or even comprehension.

And then there was clarity.

She hung there, the oil forced into her body, driving organs that had died from despair. She was not allowed to die, not yet. Before her, she could recognize a lone pony, its form wreathed in blazing violet, the blinding shine making her almost unidentifiable. If there had been more than one pony capable of such power, Luna would have been at a loss.

“Twilight?”

“I've never killed another living thing before.” Her voice thundered, as though the heavens themselves spoke for her. Or perhaps she spoke for them. “Today seems a good day to start.”

“Do not flatter yourself, pony. You are here at my request.” Several of the oil’s agents stirred beneath its depths, their telltale ticking announcing their arrival. “Do you hear that?” Four forms emerged, the light of the pony they faced reflecting off their polished chrome.

“I'm in no mood for games.”

“Are you in the mood to learn?” All four pointed past her. She turned to glance, and amidst the forest behind her, dozens more waited in total silence. “You see, I am not so crass as to overlook such an obvious flaw. If I had not wished my agents discovered, they would not be.”

“Then why?” Her voice was a growl befitting any Timberwolf.

“So the two of you could share a moment.” It pulled Luna up, forcing the princess to face her friend and fellow royal. “Tell her.”

“Luna!”

“Tell her.” There were no threats, no insistence. It knew she would.

“I... allowed this.”

There was silence. She continued.

“Twilight, leave. These ponies died by my will.”

“I... I...” The aura flickered. “That's... impossible...”

“I betrayed him.” She was crying again, the oil’s eyes boring into her. “He trusted me and I betrayed him. I didn't have to, I was afraid, I wanted to protect my subjects...”

“Not your subjects, princess.”

“My... my children...” She couldn't look around her, at the horrific graveyard she occupied. “I betrayed him for them.”

“So now she atones through them.” Gone was the anger and the fury from its voice. This was business. This was justice.

Twilight stared, her aura vanishing, revealing her aghast expression. “You... let...” She stared at Luna, her eyes turning to abject horror. “You...killed...”

“For Equestria.” Was all she could say.

“For Equestria.” The oil confirmed.

“What... could Equestria... possibly...” She stared, she just stared. “Thismonster!”

Luna was silent. So the oil spoke.  “Take it up with Luna. This was her bargain, and she paid it. Why she did is between you two.” The agents behind twilight backed off, opening the way back to the door. “Go, talk to Celestia. If you feel a rescue is in order, then return with an army. I assure you, you'll need one.”

Hurt, and confused, she stared at the oil, at Luna, and at the dismembered mess about them. There was a flash, and she was gone.

“Are you done?” Luna had no strength left. Not after what she had endured.

“I am done.”

The world lurched and twisted.

*_*_*_*

Luna awoke on the shores of the black lake. She felt groggy and unsteady, and pale scars criss crossed her fur, as though she'd been ripped apart. Her wings felt sore as well, but otherwise intact. The oil was there, his attention focused on an odd device clutched in his tendrils.

“What...?” It felt like her head had been split open. Knowing what the oil could do, it might have been.

“I don't remember.” He spun the contraption in his grasp. “I could... but...” He pulled another device from his depths, this one with a whirling maw of teeth. He dropped the contraption into the grinder, and watched as it was ripped apart. “I told myself to forget.”

“Well, alright...” She flexed herself experimentally, wincing as everything hurt. “I don't suppose... no, you said you didn't remember.”

“No, I don't. I think...” He looked her over. “I think I did that to you, but considering you're in one piece, I'd guess all is forgiven.”

“That's... good.” Suddenly, she remembered. “Oh, your watch stopped.” The words sent a chill down her spine, until she remembered the wounds to her body. Whatever had happened between them, it was over.

“Yes, I am… aware.” A tendril snaked over, a new glossy chrome watch in its grasp. “A new one then, for a new beginning.”

She took the watch in her magical grasp, and opened the case. It was a nice piece, with a finer polish than the last one, and a small day/night complication worked into the face. On the inside of the cover was a single engraving. ‘To forgiveness.’ She snapped it closed. “Thank you.”

“You needn’t thank me. To be friends again is thanks enough.” The oil paused, and his next words held an ominous weight. “I looked for the old watch but... I think I destroyed it.”

A pang of terror gripped Luna. What had shedone to him? And what had he done in return?

“I am... glad I cannot remember what passed between us.” She held the watch closer.

“As am I.” The oil began to abandon his form, returning to a simple lake. “Ah well, bygones to bygones. If that's everything, I have some projects to get back to. Feel free to drop by anytime.”

“Of course.” Luna smiled, feeling relief for the first time since she awoke. “A thought: since my return, my sister has insisted on this new tradition of 'game night.' Perhaps you might join?”

“I would be glad to… wait, you were gone?”

“A long story. Perhaps I might tell you over game night.”

The oil formed a mouth just long enough to smile. “That would be nice.”

Luna waved one last time, and departed. It was sore going, but that was a passing thing. In a day or so she'd be feeling fine again. She left the door open on her way out, as much a symbolic gesture as a time saving one (clockwork could be exceedingly slow). As she returned to the well lit halls of Canterlot castle, a voice caught her ears. “There she is!”

Princess Twilight and a guard mare Luna didn't recognize trotted up, the unicorn guard practically glowing with pride. “I told you I'd find her!”

“After two hours.” Twilight glowered, before coughing and offering a bright smile to Luna. “I wanted to talk with you about curfew laws in Canterlot, but Celestia said you were... busy.” He expression grew worried. “She sounded... off. Is something wrong?” Her eyes clearly noticed Luna's state of semi-repair.

“I think there may have been, but it's of no consequence now. We can discuss the matter in my chambers.” She waved a hoof at the guard, who seemed slightly irked at being so casually dismissed.

As the two of them made their way off, Luna couldn't help glancing back at the pompous unicorn that had 'led' Twilight to her. After a moment's reflection, she remembered the mare was called Sand Castle, and like her namesake performed extremely poorly.

For the life of her, Luna couldn't remember why she'd requested the mare's transfer.