Chapter 1
From his position on the roof, Hans looked down at the bustling streets of the city below, scratching the back of his head in pure confusion. The sounds of fingernails against hair and scalp were the only things that bounced around his head at the moment, as his thoughts were all in a burning pile in the far end of his mind. However, one thought emerged from the flames and made itself known. Where was he? This looked nothing like Berlin; the city was mostly rubble the last time he saw it. It was all so damned strange to him.
A lit cigarette hung from his lips to help deal with the stress and confusion. He let a stream of smoke leave his mouth and float up into the orange sky, following the mesmerizing dance of the fumes with his eyes as they disappeared into the air. It was sunset. Lights shone below him, but none of them were from burning bodies and rubble. They came from streetlamps. Functioning street lamps, the likes of which he hadn't seen in a while. And with the presence of the light, so came the wave of noises that rushed to meet him as he hung his head over the edge of the parapet, which came up to his abdomen. Voices came from the streets, and from how high up he was, he was unsure just what language they were speaking. Russian, German, English, or French? The boy had no clue.
But what he did know was that he would never find answers by standing around and giving himself a headache. He had to keep his mind busy with other things. The answer came to him in the form of the weapons he came with, which lay scattered on the ground after removing them from his person. He wasn't really in the mood for playing quartermaster, but felt like an inventory check was due, as they were the only things familiar to him at that very moment. Content with this line of thinking, the boy spun around on his heels and made his way back to where he awoke, leaving his newly squashed cigarette behind.
His main role during the desperate defense of Berlin was to lug around ammo and guns to places that needed them. However, since he had no clue where he was, he thought it was best to leave this weapons under the supervision of the highest ranking personnel he could find. Himself.
The spot where he woke up was where his things were. Exactly where he left them after he woke up experiencing mild pain. Who knew that sleeping with a miniature arsenal on your person would be uncomfortable? Hans was on his knees, arranging whatever he had in a line before him. Now that he had a good look at what he was carrying, the boy plopped down on his arse and rested his chin in his palm. Before him was a disappointing amount of firepower - an amount that would land him a fat chastising if he showed up to resupply what remained of Germany's armed resistance. In spite of this, he was glad that he no longer needed to lug around his usual mountain of wood and steel, as he was certain that his spine would snap if he lugged around his usual load for longer.
'What would have broken first? My back or Germany?' he thought as a grim frown morphed onto his lips. The boy gave his temple a few light smacks for his defeatism and shook his head before bringing his mind back to the spread of ordnance before him.
Two Karabiner 98ks of questionable quality were huddled together like cold little animals. The German war-machine suffered greatly by the time 1945 rolled around, and the rifles on the ground were a testament to that. Weapons that looked like Karabiners, but lacking the fine wood and polish. They felt rough, and no love went into the creation of these weapons. He felt pity for the brave men who had to die with one of these in his hands.
Alongside these were two different self-loading guns. The first he was familiar with as its distinct shape and colour bore itself into the minds of every German soldier and Germany's enemies; the MP-40. No magazine was present in the deadly device, but the weapon beside it had one inserted. A sickening amalgamation of steel and wood; a weapon with no beauty and no pride; the German Reich's death rattle: the Volkssturmgewehr. Gone were the days of high quality production and in came the result of 12 years of German supremacy. He had the opportunity to use one of these weapons once before, and the only thing more shameful than using one was being the poor bastard who got killed by one.
Hans reached out with sooty fingers and pinched the curved magazine of the weapon, before gently shaking the thing as it lay on the ground as a test of the weapon's overall quality and craftmanship. His brow furrowed as the magazine rattled inside of the magazine well, and recoiled his hand away from the god forsaken weapon as though it was a hot stove-top. Looking at the thing made him sick, so he cast his eyes away to the pair of anti-armour devices near the end of the line-up. Panzerfausts. More specifically, a 30 meter Gross and a 60 meter variant. As unassuming as they looked, the weapons were capable of blowing a hole in the side of allied armor like a fist through wet paper. A warm smile formed on his face as he recalls joking with another boy his age about how they looked like street lamps, or even cruder: a penis.
This smile fell as his head tilted back and stared up at the heavens, where the orange and blue sky slowly peeled back to reveal stars. He shuffled his way back to his feet, keeping his eyes locked onto the coming night sky with a neutral frown. Every train of thought led to the same thing: home. He had trouble wrestling with the idea that he somehow managed to end up in some strange city untouched by war, where only mere moments before waking up, he was.... he was...
His hand shot up to meet his freckled cheek, where the resounding smack would bring him back to reality like a dislocated arm being set back into place. The time for dwelling came later. For now, he had to play quartermaster. The boy nursed his slapped cheek for a moment before sitting up on his heels to resume his self-appointed duties.
Hans sets his small notebook on the ground, and with it the comically short remains of a pencil. His joints in his right hand were sore from having to delicately pinch the nub that was once a proud pencil, let alone actually writing with the bloody thing. He tugs on his aching fingers with his left hand, with each pull resulting in a satisfying, dull popping noise. His fingers felt mildly relieved. The page bore the names of the items in his possession, as well as the numerical amount beside them. Everything was accounted for. In addition to the largest weapons that he had already looked at, the boy had accounted for his PO8 Luger sidearm and the buffet of ammunition for the weapons. He had 3 magazines for the MP-40, and a measly 2 for the Volkssturmgewehr, counting the one in the weapon already. 2 Mags for the Luger minus the one already inside.
A cloth sack, fashioned from one pillow case inside of another was also present. It would rattle and jingle every time he picked it up and moved it around, and when he inspected the inside, he was met with the sight of a loose mess of ammunition, the occasional rifle clip or two, and - surprisingly - a pair of stick grenades. Rifle rounds, pistol rounds, machine-gun ammo; they all blurred together into a mess of brass and copper. Hans had grabbed the "bag" by the open end and spun the bag around as he suspended it in the air, before using the newly twisted neck of the sack to tie it shut. He simply chose to note down that he had quite a bit of ammo, and prayed that he was never bored enough to count them in the future.
Hans undid the buckles of his belt, from which hung two pairs of three heavily worn leather pouches that were just big enough to cram a full clip or two of rifle ammo. He would have no problem transporting adequate ammunition for the pair of Karabiners, but he would certainly have to get creative with how he'd go about carrying the SMG magazines.
"If I'd have to use them." he mumbles to himself as he slid the straps off of himself. In doing so, something felt off. As soon as the belt began to peel itself off of his uniform, he felt an object that was pressed against him feel loose and was about to fall. He turns his head to look at what this object was, and with it was his hand to catch whatever it was as his belt finally distanced itself from him and plopped onto the ground. It was his knife. With the knife in his possession, he flicked his wrist up slightly, letting go of the knife and gripping it repeatedly until the knife eventually rose up and the tip of the leather scabbard was pinched in between his thumb and forefinger.
He stared at the red and white diamond crest that sat boldly in the centre of both sides of the handle, and in the centre of that crest was a sharp, proud swastika. The blade itself was concealed in its leather scabbard. While he was in possession of this knife, he was ashamed to admit that it wasn't his own. His had gotten lost at some point during his time in Berlin, and he had cheekily swiped this one off of one of his peers. Perhaps that was what happened to his own blade? As he thought this, he tucked the knife into his boot, and made sure it was positioned somewhat comfortably before getting some rest.
The boy rolled onto his back from his squatting position, pressing his hands against the back of his head in case he banged his head against the ground. His eyes stared up into the night sky in his newly adopted position. It was getting dark now, and it was almost too dark to do anymore counting on the rooftop. However, what light he had was supplied by the yellow glow of the streets below. The moon had yet to make itself known, and he wondered if the lack of the moon in the sky was that it was merely a new-moon. The soldier then shut his eyes and simply...did nothing.
It had been an hour since he awoke, and at no point was there the sound of a firearm, the sound of enemy aircraft, nor explosions. The calm unsettled him, as he was expecting to hear the crack of a bullet missing his head at any moment, or expecting one of the buildings around him to succumb to allied artillery. He hoped that this was a dream and that he merely fell asleep on watch, but underneath the bravado and his sense of duty, was the hope that it was a dream that he wouldn't wake up from. He unhooked his hands from behind his head to remove the cap off of his head, letting his hair dirty blonde hair breathe the night air, and pressed his hands against his face.
The boy wept for the first time in a while, with trails of tears escaping from under his hands and snaking their way down his cheeks. Was he finally free from the war? Could he rest easy from now on? What was he going to do with all the extra luggage?
These thoughts clouded his mind as he cried into his palms, and in doing so, failed to notice the moon steadily climb up from the horizon, and settling itself in the middle of the night sky.
Author's Note
Yeah, I didn't see myself coming back to this either. But now that I'm of a different mindset than what I was before, I'll see just what I can do with it. I left some parts as I had originally wrote them. You know, for old time's sake. So if it looks awkward and reads kinda "eh", that's prolly why.
Also, nerfed Hans' arsenal
(Old Notes)
Yay! First chapter done.
Despite his abundance of weaponry (which is kinda OP), I plan on balancing that out later on. Most of the chapter is basically an inventory check, for which I apologise for. But hey, the minimum word count is 1000. I had to get there somehow.
Chapter 2
Hans was jolted awake by the sound of thunder. Or at least, something that sounded like thunder. What he didn't know was that some clumsy soul had dropped their assortment of pots and pans in a mad dash to fix themselves breakfast for the morning in one of the buildings below him. They just wanted some eggs...
Any attempts to open his eyes failed as the sun shone onto his face, his awakening eyes were less than ready for such intensity. At some point during his weeping, he had fallen asleep and adopted a fetal position, with his face bearing the full brunt of the sun's attack. To remedy this, the boy untucks his knees from his abdomen and straightened out his legs, allowing him to roll over onto his other side, where he would finally be able to open his eyes. After some adjustment, it became clear to him that he was still on the same roof, on the same floor, and still high up. Perhaps all this wasn't a dream after all, and that he may just be stuck here.
"Wherever 'here' is." He sighs as he lifts himself off of the ground, his joints making several popping noises as he stood up straight.
Hans performed a few stretches and at the same time would soak in the surrounding view. He couldn't see a lot of the strange city when levels of light were low, but the streetlights and the lights from the buildings certainly made the place look pretty. But now, with the sun shining down and blue skies in the air, what he saw was perhaps one of the nicest cities to have ever been built. For a couple of miles around him, he was surrounded by proud, white-brick buildings, all uniformly together like troops at attention for inspection. He noted how the city appeared to have been built up against the mountains, where several waterfalls would flow down into an area he could not see.
Every couple of buildings along a street were decorated with violets and soft yellows, adding to the grandeur that Hans had no doubt the architects were aiming for. From what he saw, he stood on what must have been at least the third or second tallest building in the surrounding area, and his building was only 4 or so stories high. He then shuffled closer to the edge of the building once he was done stretching and popping his joints, and placed his hands upon the parapet to prop himself as he took a long hard look down at the street below.
It was like looking at a canal of jade-coloured stone. The street below was grand, and despite the density of the buildings, it was wide enough for at most 5 automobiles lined up side by side. It was all brick road, from one side of the street to the other, separated from the buildings themselves with smooth tiles of the same colour. And with a perfectly good street came people to walk on it. Handfuls of people were walking around below, going about their lives, seemingly untouched by war and barbarian bombing raids.
Out of curiosity, Hans would follow the street below him with his eyes, skirting along the parapet of the roof before reaching a corner. He would then walk along this new wall, running his hand along it as he walked, and doing his best to see if there were any signs below he could read. He couldn't read most of the signs from the angle he was looking at, and instead chose to resume following the road. It was then that he noticed something in the corner of his eye. Something large, something white. He couldn't help but tear his eyes away from ground level, and turn them to face the object in his peripheral.
"What the fuck?" His eyes settled on possibly the grandest structure to have ever existed, and definitely the grandest his young eyes had ever seen. A structure of marble, adorned with gold and greyish-purple, stood strong and tall two or three miles away from his position. It was a castle unlike any other. From the gate of the castle came a ruler-straight road, flanked by a legions of other buildings, and came to a stop at what looked to be the town square. How he failed to notice such a structure the night before was baffling.
The young man pressed a hand against his forehead and let it slide up his temple, pushing his hair back as he led his hand to the back of his head. His mind drew a blank as to where he was. Nothing like this existed back in Germany, nor was he aware of anything like this existing anywhere in Europe.
'Is this Prague?'
Some moments after wrapping his head around the idea that he was really lost, he took some time to think of a general plan. This didn't come with ease, as his mind and attention would drift over to the-
"Damn it!" He caught his mind wandering again, and turned his back to the castle in an attempt to remove it from his peripheral, and temporarily remove it from existence. He shut his eyes and thought of his plan. 'Step one: get off the bloody roof.'
Upon opening his eyes, he brought his attention to the three options he had for coming down. If he removed the idea of simply jumping off of the roof, he was down to two. He averted his eyes from the parapets and instead looked to his side.
A lone brick structure jutted out from the roof, where the only unique thing about it was the simple wooden door that was installed on it. Hans figured that behind the door was a staircase leading down to the building, where the occupants could come and go from the roof as they pleased for whatever reason.
The second option appeared to just be a steel ladder running down the side of the building, but after approaching the edge, he saw that the ladder led down to a series of zig-zagging fire escapes. At the bottom was a rather clean alleyway, hidden away from the outside world like a dirty secret. It was a good place to hide and to move around covertly, and he was rather comfortable with them, having spent some time in between buildings during his defense of Berlin.
The boy rationalized that the fire escape would be the best option, as the less he was visible to the general public, the better. He had no idea as to what the people were like, and where their allegiances lay. Until he could gather enough information to come to a conclusion, he would have to do his best to avoid, at the very least, bringing attention to himself. He could very easily bump into someone if he took the stairs all the way down the building.
Satisfied with his plan, the boy moved away from the fire escape and went to prepare his stash for transport. The first course of action was to pick his belt up off of the ground, and buckle it around his waist to a decently snug level. He flipped open each of the 6 ammo pouches on his belt, and being content after seeing that only 4 of them had loaded clips within. While he did plan on staying out of trouble, he didn't want to rule out the possibility of needing more firepower than his pistol.
"Speaking of which..." He mutters as he scans the ground with his eyes, before bending down and picking up the Luger he left there the night before. The boy checked to see if there was any ammunition in the magazine, and that the extractor/ loaded chamber indicator which sat atop the pistol was sticking out, before tucking the weapon into the worn leather holster on his belt. With the weapon at his side, he felt much more at ease than without, as though a wave of comfort and relief came over him like a cool breeze. Hans pats the leather holster and locks his eyes onto his hat, which sat on the ground some few paces ahead of him. After taking a few steps, he bends down and picks the hat up to inspect it with both hands.
He used his thumb to caress the symbol on his hat, matching that of the knife in his possession, as well as the colouring and swastika that was located on his upper left sleeve. Hans took a moment to stare at the symbol, reaching back into the furthest memories in his mind. The swastika was always there. In every classroom, around the street, in the Hitler Youth camps, even in his home. The horde of barbarians and enemies of Germany were fighting tooth and nail to stamp out the symbol and the spirit of the German people, and no matter how many allied propaganda leaflets fell from the sky, the symbol would always mean the same thing to him: Hope, strength, and the love of the Fuhrer. Hans looked to the sky in an attempt to hold his tears back. He owed it to every German to stay alive in this new land.
Hans had plenty of time to ruminate later. After wiping his eyes with a sleeve, he places the hat on his head and spent some time adjusting it. He positioned it so that the hair under the cap didn't bend or curl in an uncomfortable manner, and to ensure that his hair wouldn't stick up in an unsightly manner the next time he'd take his hat off. He'd then turn around and face the castle in the distance, with the sun at his back and a smile on his face. He wasn't going to get much done just standing around on the roof.
It was time he got his boots on the ground.
It must have been some time near or around noon.
The lunar princess would know exactly what time it was had she simply took a quick look at the grand clock that sat against a wall in her chambers. However, the princess' mind was preoccupied at present. She was sat at her study desk, intensely looking down at her piece of parchment, as though she was waiting for more words to appear on the page. Her elbow rested on her desk, and in her palm was her forehead with her horn sticking out between her middle and index finger. As usual, her ethereal hair, bearing the likeness of a beautiful night sky, would gently flow and move as though there was a constant breeze acting upon it. She looked more akin to a student staring down at a tricky question in an exam than one of two sovereigns.
Every now and again, she'd touch quill to paper, but would write no more than one or two words. The last time she checked the time, it was quarter past eleven, and it had been quite a long while since she started. Several crumpled up balls of parchment lay in a pile on the floor beside her desk, a testament to her numerous failures to put her thoughts to paper.
Luna didn't understand. Usually, she didn't have much trouble coming up with paragraphs upon paragraphs to write when it came to sending letters to foreign dignitaries, or to hand write a personal letter to someone or another, but when it came to matters pertaining to herself? She'd struggle. Though, she did admit that she's had to do both those things many times in her life, and it was much easier to do once you learned what to say and who to say it to. This was a different matter entirely. The lunar princess was beyond frustrated.
At her wit's end, she was relegated to simply scrunch up the parchment on her desk and flicked it onto the floor to unite it with its brethren. With a sigh, she places her quill into its holder, and screwed the cap back onto her ink bottle, before turning her attention to the sheet of paper that sat on her bed. The horn on her forehead glowed with a wispy blue aura, the likes of which would envelop the piece of parchment, before it would magically float towards her. Once it was close enough, she reached out with a hand to hold the sheet and brought it in front of her eyes as her horn ceased to glow.
The night before, before she raised the moon for the night, she felt something. A strange feeling that rocked her to her core. After the feeling was gone, she went to immediately writing down a list of "symptoms" and feelings she had within that brief span of time, in the event that she'd forget what exactly she felt.
"'Headache lasting 3-4 seconds. Pins and needles on horn for 6 seconds.' Blah-blah-blah..." She skimmed through the short list, and locked her eyes onto the second-last entry in the list, which sat above 'craving for cookie dough ice cream'.
"'Numerous, pulsing waves of invisible magic lasting approximately 10 seconds. Unknown source.'" She re-read this a few times, imagining the the event in her mind over and over. She couldn't think of a better description of what she felt that night, and any attempts to elaborate further and trying to explain it in a more complex manner currently sat in a messy pile at her feet.
She didn't bring this topic up to her sister yet, as she wasn't sure what she felt was worth mentioning or was of any concern. It was entirely possible that Celestia experienced the same thing as her at the exact time, but it was unlike her sister to not talk to her about it at some point during the night. It was a strange string of events indeed.
Luna sets the piece of paper down on her desk, before pushing herself and her stool away from the table with a her legs. She stood up and neatly tucked the stool underneath the desk, before using her magic to lift up the pile of crumpled paper and depositing them all into the unlit fireplace at the far end of her room. They would serve as adequate fuel for her fire later that night. She'd then stretch her arms above her head, and extend her fingers to the fullest. The princess would also let the purple-blue wings on her back spread out to their furthest. She thought that it would be best to put the matter down for the moment. There were things to get done later in the day, and her sister did mention the day before that there was going to be an event in the Canterlot high street. At around noon.
She kept her arms in the air as she glanced over at her clock for the first time in half-an-hour. She had 15 minutes till noon. With a frown, she folds her dark wings against her back, which had always contrasted her pale, cream skin.
It was then that something caught her eye. Some ink had smudged itself on her forearm and her wrist at some point during her struggle to write. In an un-ladylike fashion, the princess would lick the index finger of her right hand, and rubbed it up against the stain to test it's dryness. The smudge stayed mostly the same, but now she had a stain on her finger.
With a grumble, the second half of the duumvirate marched into her en-suite bathroom to rid her fair skin of the unsightly ink stains. She was fine dressed as she was, but she couldn't be seen with such blemishes on her in public. She wouldn't want to accidentally start some funky, new fashion trend amongst the general public. Again.
Ten to twelve.
Luna was pushing it.
Princess Celestia, co-ruler of Equestria, was leaning against the ornate marble railing of her balcony with both arms, looking down at the vast city that was spread out in front of her. Levitating at her side was a fine ceramic saucer, suspended in the air by the princess' magical golden glow. With a thought, her magic brought her teacup to her lips, and she would take a few dainty sips of the steaming beverage. She closed her eyes as she savored her favorite blend of apple and cinnamon tea, letting it take over her senses for several moments before setting the teacup upon the saucer.
Like many days, it was a good day. Seeing her kingdom basking in the sunlight never failed to fill her with pride, and made her feel at ease. Any worries about the state of the kingdom and concerns about ongoing events melted away when she could simply look down on her kingdom with a cup of tea.
However, it wasn't enough to suppress the thoughts in her mind about the odd phenomenon that occurred yesterday evening. What she felt, what she heard, what she experienced. She couldn't put it into words, nor had she made any attempt to. All she knew was that something was off, and would need to find some time later in the day to find any reading material that could help her figure out just what it was. Celestia wondered if her sister had anything to do with it, or whether her sister felt something similar, but she wouldn't bring it up to her little sister unless Luna brought it up first.
With her tea thoroughly sipped, the princess sets her cup and saucer down on the little table she had on her balcony, before pushing herself up off of the railing and sauntered her way back into her chambers. After positioning herself in the centre of her room, she magically wheeled her standing mirror in front of her to see if there was anything about her toga or hair that needed fixing.
Just like her sister, her tri-coloured hair gently billowed as it hung down from her head. She ran her fingers through it with a smile, having never gotten bored with simply admiring her locks of hair. Despite its appearance, the royal hairdo felt just like any other. It could be cut, styled, wet, just like regular hair, and her personal stylists where specifically trained to work their "magic" on it. She made a note to pay them a visit in the coming weeks. Otherwise, her outfit looked fine. Her simple toga was adorned with numerous golden motifs, and her usual gold tiara sat happily upon her head.
A knock on her door turned her attention from her mirror, which she wheeled back into its corner. The solar princess approached her door and came to a stop at a distance she was happy with, before opening one of the double doors with a hand. The corner of the door narrowly missed her sandaled as it swung open, with the Princess having put to memory the perfect distance to stand.
Behind the door stood her sister, who wore a sheepish smile.
"Good morning, sister..." The shorter of the pair greets, twiddling her fingers behind her.
"Just barely morning," Celestia starts with a smirk, waving her sister inside as she steps back, "Lose track of time, did we?"
The lunar princess followed behind her sister to the middle of the room, and magically shut the door behind her, before being met with a piece of parchment in her face, wrapped in Celestia's magic aura. Luna peels the paper off her face and casts a stink-eye at her sister, who reciprocated with an innocent smile.
"We're afraid so, and we apologize." Luna says before reading the words on the parchment. She lifts a brow at what was written. She didn't have any context for what she was reading in her mind, and looked up at her sister for help. "I understand that this is a short speech, but whatever for?"
Celestia playfully tuts like a disappointed mother to a child, "You've forgotten already?" The solar princess wraps one arm around her midsection, propping the elbow of her other arm on the other's palm, and mocks laughter from behind her raised hand. "Oh ho ho ho~ It seems you might not be excited to go after all~! We might just stay home today~"
Luna furrows her brow as her cheeks begin to glow red from the mock laughter and teasing. "Hold on a moment, sister! You never said anything about going anywhere!" This wasn't true. Celestia clearly brought it up with her the day before.
"Where are we going?" Her question only prompted her older sister to grin wider. "No, I'm being serious. Where?" This caused Celestia to grin like a mad woman. "Whe-"
She was interrupted as a second piece of paper shot forth and stopped right in front of her face. She grabs the paper, placing it in front of the speech so she could read it. It was a brightly coloured poster.
"A "Bake sale"?" She read aloud as her eyes widened. Luna looks up at her sister who nodded excitedly.
With no further words exchanged, they promptly left the bedroom in a mad race to reach the carriages that'd take them to the heart of the city, and in their wake, a pair of stunned guards who stood at attention by the double doors.
Hans grunts as he landed on the ground with bent knees and a thud. He then stood up and straightened out his uniform, before looking up at the fire escape that he climbed down from. The ladder to the last fire escape platform was too high up for him to jump up to, and he surmised that it was a safety feature to ensure that a ne'er-do-well couldn't simply climb up and enter whichever home they pleased. That wasn't to say that it was a long fall for him. In normal conditions, he'd be fine with dropping from such a height, however, he was currently bogged down by the extra weight that hung off of him. Both the Panzerfausts and 98Ks were strapped on his back in a cross formation, with some help from the slings that came attached to the rifles. His sack of ammo was tied to his belt hung from his back like a rattling tail. Finally, both the MP-40 and Volkssturmgewehr hung from their slings on opposing shoulders and thus hanging from opposite sides of his chest.
Keeping himself upright was a task in itself, and comfort was nonexistent, as it had been back in Berlin. As heavy as it was, he didn't dare vocally declare his discomfort. Aryans were the pinnacle of strength, after all, and he had to set an example for his kind.
On his way down, he attempted to sneakily peak through the windows each platform was positioned near, but all of them had their curtains drawn. He was mildly amused by the idea of windows facing the inside of an alley, parallel to the flat, featureless wall of another building, and wondered if he awoke on a slightly older building, and the one next door was constructed later.
He swiveled his head around, and with the help of his turning body, scanned the area around him. There were many passages he could take, but there were only so many corners he could turn before ending up on a public pavement. He wished he'd drawn a rough map based on what he was able to see from the rooftop. Hans placed his hands on his hips, with the SMGs resting conveniently in the loops made by his elbows. The boy was at a loss as to what to do. Now that he was on the ground, all plans flew out the window. His best hope now was to simply pick a direction to go, and navigate the alleyways in this city. He took note of how pleasant the alleyway was. There wasn't much trash around, it wasn't very damp, and while there were a few trashcans sitting around as well as discarded boxes, it was otherwise...nice.
A small gust of wind managed to find its way into the alley, and with it bringing the dust and other trash blowing in by his boots. Caught in the wind was a small, blue paper handout, which twisted and twirled some few inches from the ground, before plastering itself against Hans' leg. This caught the attention of the boy, who carefully lowered himself closer to the ground, in fear of tipping over, and snatched the piece of coloured paper up to inspect.
"Can-ter-lot Bah-ke sa-leh..." Hans mumbled to himself.
He recognized the alphabet, which was a good sign. He could sound out what was written, but otherwise couldn't really understand it. The language on the paper was clearly English, and that was a cause of concern for the young German. The British and the Americans spoke it, and he was pretty sure that Father Deutschland was at war with them. However, Hans was also sure that the city he was standing in did not exist, nor was he familiar with the architectural style. Was there a neutral English-speaking country in Europe?
On the subject of familiarity, while he could not understand the words on the paper, he did understand some other elements. Numbers. More specifically, time.
"12:15" He read aloud, before turning his gaze skywards. Before he came down, it did look like the sun was nearing the highest point in it's arc. Whatever the paper was advertising, it looked like it was happening at a time close to what Hans probably thought it was now. The boy then turned his attention to yet another element he could recognize on the paper. It was an array of cakes, with a delicious cartoon of a cupcake sitting in the centre, and several other baked goods branching out from either side of it. Some tents and stands were also present on the handout, indicating that it was a fair of some description.
He caught himself staring at the treats for some time, before tearing his eyes away from the page. He could do with some cakes.
Gurgle
Hans presses a hand against his suffering stomach and frowns. He could really do with anything right now.
With the page in his hand, Hans turns towards one of the many mouths of the alley. He'd have to scout around for food. He wouldn't get anything to eat at all if he stood around. He knew that he'd have to do his best to sneak around between alleys, and run across streets into more alleys. None of the items on his back would make his clandestine scouting any easier or quieter.
The young soldier then looked to one of the many boxes laying about in the alley. If he wanted the best possible chance to feed himself as quickly and quietly as possible, he'd need to shed some weight, and hide it.
Author's Note
Second chapter "improved" slightly. Feels great coming back to this story, and fleshing it out.
(Old notes)
Second Chapter done and dusted. I really need to work on pacing. I feel as if I'm going to fast. Hopefull I'll overcome that in due time.
Chapter 3
What he was doing filled him with no pride.
Hans had stuffed his weapons and his sack of ammunition into one of the many cardboard boxes that was scattered around the alley. Obviously, the longest of them couldn't fit in just one box, so Hans would have to get creative. He stuffed both ends of the Panzerfausts, 98Ks and the Volkssturmgewehr into two separate boxes, leaving them somewhat concealed from curious eyes. However, there was the matter of the 11 inch gap between both boxes, exposing the shafts of the anti-tank weapons and the wooden stocks of the firearms. To remedy this, Hans was creative enough to cut into a third box with a knife, and covered up the gap with the newly-made, C shaped piece of cardboard.
He took a few steps back to inspect his work. The boy tilted his upper body at his hips, viewing it from as many angles as he could to see if anything that vaguely looked weapon-like could be identified from the exterior. Next to his art project was another box, containing his sack of loose ammunition and his MP-40 with the stock folded as to be able to rest it inside the cardboard shelter.
He'd perform a few small stretches on the spot, and rolled his aching shoulders in an attempt to relieve his body of the soreness from carrying all that weight. Hans grimaced as he felt something pop in his joints, but the brief spike of pain was followed by the feeling of relief. Physically, he felt good. He no longer had to lug around any unnecessary weight, which he really didn't need if he wanted to move fast and relatively unnoticed.
However, with the exception of the VSG, he felt a little shame with having to subject the weapons of Germany to such a fate in a cold, dark cocoon. He promised himself that he would come back to recover them the very moment he found a safe place to adequately store them.
This wasn't to say that Hans was totally defenseless in the event of trouble. He still had his Luger in its holster, and the knife neatly tucked away in his boot. He removed the rifle clips from the pouches on his belt, and had them stored away with the rest of his ammunition. He figured that he could use them for storage of other items, and it'd be more comfortable storing smaller items in the small bags than in his pockets where they would rub up against his thigh.
Having reminded himself of something, he pats his pockets, and breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the familiar shape of a rifle cartridge. He reached into his pocket and delicately produced a single Karabiner cartridge. Instead of having the familiar yellow colouring of brass, like all other bullets, this was a sickly red. It was covered in dried blood. He remembered the significance of this trinket.
After getting lost in his memories, his stomach reminded him again of its suffering, telling him to quit his idleness and to focus on the primary matter at hand. Stuffing the cartridge back into his pocket, he pulls the now-folded handout out of his breast pocket and examined it again. He was unsure if whatever it was advertising was happening on that day, or even if the numbers present represented a time, but he had nothing else to do. Even if he didn't find any baked goods to eat, he was certain that there must be a market someplace nearby.
"But I don't have any money." He was mildly embarrassed that he didn't come to this realization sooner. He didn't have any Reichsmarks on him, and he sure as hell didn't have the local currency on hand. He didn't even know what it looked like. And he sure as hell wasn't willing to trade some good smokes and a lighter.
Hans shook his head as he came to realise what he had to do next. For the sake of feeding himself, for the sake of survival, he'd have to steal. At no point did he ever consider the possibility of begging, as the proud German and Aryan inside of him would never stoop so low. To Hans, if the governing body of this city had any sense, they would cast out any and all beggars.
Admittedly, Hans was no stranger to the occasional dishonest procurement of valuable recourses, as was indicated by the knife in his boot and the holster on his side, but he didn't consider them as petty thefts for the sake of theft. A sidearm was a valuable tool in the event of one's primary weapon malfunctioning, and a knife was a valuable tool in the event of the sidearm malfunctioning and/or fighting up close.
He wondered if corpse looting counted as stealing, before he snapped himself out of his trance.
Stuffing the handout back into his breast pocket, Hans slowly creeped his way through one of the many passageways to the streets. With the sun in the sky, and its light bouncing off of the pristine white buildings, the mouth of the alleyway looked more akin to a glowing portal to heaven itself.
He could hear the occasional footstep and people chattering in their foreign language as he approached the blindingly bright street. His anxiety built with every step closer, spiking up to extreme levels when a shadow would pass the alleyway. His hand was pressed against his holster, with his thumb hooked under the leather flap, ready to whip out his pistol at the first sign of danger.
Whatever this new world had to offer him, whatever the people were like; whether they were friend or foe, Axis or Allies - He was ready for them.
And so, into the light he went.
A sudden bump in the middle of the road snapped Luna out of her daydreaming. She gasped as she sat straight, and looked around the carriage in a brief daze, wondering as to what had just happened. After letting her brain catch up with the rest of her body, she blushed out of embarrassment and returned to her previous position, with her elbow rested on the edge of the open carriage and her chin resting squarely on her palm to support her head as she stared at the buildings that passed her.
"Day dreaming?" Came the voice of her elder sister, who sat beside beside her.
Luna gave little more than a shrug to accompany her answer. "One could say that, yes."
Her mind had wondered the moment she sat down in the carriage and had left the castle grounds. All her thoughts led her back to her experience the night before, just as all roads led to the ancient city of Roan. It was almost concerning enough to book an appointment with her therapist. Almost.
Princess Celestia craned her neck to look at her sister and raised an eyebrow. She had grown to expect a witty response whenever she asked simple half-teasing questions, but something appeared to be up with her sibling. While it was true that this time would be around Luna's bedtime, she quickly dismissed the notion of her just being tired. Luna had stayed up for far longer, and would always hide her fatigue like a champion, especially in front of nobles and their advisors.
From her upright, lady-like sitting position, the Solar diarch leaned to the side and gently nudged her sister with an elbow. "Don't tell me you wore yourself out already, Luna. It wasn't even that long of a run!" She remarks with a smirk, attempting to playfully goad the truth out of her.
Luna turned to face her sister, letting a smile crack through her stone-faced demeanor. "We are fine, sister. But sometimes, one finds oneself dwelling on current events and the endless possibilities of the future." She looks away from her older sibling and returns to looking out of the window. "And with it comes anxiety. And dread."
"Well," Celestia starts, her gentle smile never leaving her face, "If you didn't want to read your speech that badly, you should have said something." She jests, gently rubbing Luna's back with a hand. Celestia could read between the lines, and she was confident that it had something to do with the magical disturbance last night.
"Why do we need a speech for a Bake Sale anyways?" Luna asks aloud, not expecting an answer to the question.
The carriage trundled along the street, with the four guardsmen assigned with pulling it marching forward at a steady yet brisk pace.
It wasn't very long until more and more people began popping up on the road as they drew ever closer to the site of the event. Even before the stands and tents were visible from their carriage, the smell of delicious baked-goods filled the air in the surrounding area. Princess Celestia turned her gaze skywards to admire the gorgeous blue expanse, as well as the lack of clouds in the sky. The Pegasi had managed to keep the sky clear for the event, and she'd have to remember to send a handwritten letter in thanks. There had never been rain in the long history of the Canterlot Bake-sale, and there was no reason for today to be any different.
"It's as though they get better with every year!" Luna pipes up, enjoying the aroma of sweet treats in the air. Unlike her eldest sister, Luna hadn't been to as many Bake-Sales. For obvious reasons.
Celestia had to agree, and one would be hard pressed to find a resident of Canterlot that didn't think the same. Today was a day that those of humble upbringings and those of an elite breed could get together and share their love for sugar. The princess had to admit that it was rather humorous to see upper-class men and women overdress for the occasion, whilst everyone else seemed content with wearing simple shirts and jeans. But who was she to say this? She and her sister came dressed like royalty.
Primarily due to being actual members of royalty.
The ornate carriage would come to a stop on the side of a street that was adjacent to the main square, where a handful of guards were already waiting. The four guards who did the pulling helped each other to unhitch themselves from the front of the carriage, before swiftly making their way to Celestia's side of the carriage and making two lines at each side of the door. One of the guards who was already present at the site approached the vehicle and opened the little door for the Princess and stepping back with a bow.
Giving her thanks, she stepped down off of the grand carriage with little trouble, shortly followed by her younger sister.
A second carriage came to a stop just behind their own, complete with its own quad set of guards pulling it forwards. Luna turned to her sister, silently inquiring as to why it was there. Celestia only offered her a smile as the door of the carriage swung open, and an entourage of young, immaculately dressed ladies poured out onto the street. The retinue of 6 Ladies-in-waiting were all dressed in their finest summer clothes, complete with wide brimmed hats to shield their fair skins from the sun's rays.
The Ladies-in-waiting had arrived.
"Girls!" Celestia calls, as she claps the palm of her hand with the fingers of her other hand.
In response to this, the girls minced their way towards the princess like a bevy of swans, and eventually coming to a stop two feet away from the Princesses, standing shoulder to shoulder. They would all perform polite curtseys for the Diarchs and wish their good mornings, before standing at attention.
"Now," Celestia starts, looking at each of them. "It's a little busy in the square today, so you'll have to split up for a while. We hope that while we both are doing our speeches on-stage, the traffic around the stands will be clear enough for you to get in and purchase the treats. I would like all of you to pick a guard to accompany you and to carry your shopping, and to meet back here in an hour." She'd then smirk at the one of the girls. "And please, try not to overwhelm them with a mountain of cargo this time."
The gaggle of young noblewomen would giggle to themselves, and convey their understanding of the instructions, before going to choose their caddies for the day. Their job for today was to obtain a wide variety of cakes, sweets, and other treats as to bring back to the castle for the staff to enjoy.
Luna gives her older sister an amused look. "'Tis strange how we are so excited to come here, even though we have Pastry Chefs in the castle." She remarks, watching as each girl found a guard to bring with them to the Bake-sale.
"Indeed we do, sister. But it doesn't hurt to support local artisans and local business." Celestia had even heard word that the Cake family were in attendance, having travelled all the way from Ponyville by rail. "That, and it wouldn't hurt to treat the castle staff without overwhelming our own chefs."
Luna hums in understanding. She appreciated a little exposition every once in a while. "Anyways, I do believe there's a crowd waiting for us."
"Indeed there is. Come along now, dear sister. The sooner we speak, the sooner we eat!"
And so, the pair went.
Hans couldn't believe his eyes, ears, and nose.
He had spent around 20 minutes navigating the alleyways, running across streets, and ignoring the surprised yelps of the locals as he made his mad dash around the city. The locals were mildly inconvenienced by his presence and made no attempts to apprehend him at all. He had to admit that he was being a little dramatic before his trek, but it didn't hurt to be paranoid sometimes.
At some points, when leaving one alley onto a street where there wasn't another alley, he'd speed-walk his way around in an attempt to look as casual in public. As casual as he could, seeing that he wasn't dressed like anyone else, and hadn't showered for quite some time. However, all that was behind him now.
Spectating from yet another alleyway, it appeared as though he had found exactly what he was looking for. His eyes were met with one of the most colourful arrays of tents he had ever seen. The square they sat on was rather large, and from what he could make out, almost every inch of it was covered by people and cake stands. Some stands were big, others small. He managed to find a few that had large cartoons of what they were presumably selling sticking out above the tents.
The combination of the sight and the overpowering smell of sweet treats made his mouth water, more than anything ever did in his short life. It was a shame that he'd have to steal in order to enjoy the treats.
He swallowed the buildup of saliva in his mouth and took a peek out of both sides of the alleyway to see if there was a way to get closer to the fair without attracting anymore attention. From what he could see, the buildings surrounding the square were arranged in a circle, divided into spaced-out quarters with 4 roads splitting them apart, as well as some gaps between the buildings. There was no real way to get close undetected, so he'd just have to hope he was sneaky.
That was until the sound of a woman speaking, amplified by speakers set up around the fair, rang out around the square. Like bees to nectar, Hans observed as the crowd slowly began to merge together near some unseen point at the centre of the fair. He assumed that they were all coming together to watch the speaker live. They were thoroughly distracted.
'Perfect!' He thought as he creeped out of the shadows and stealthily made his way over to the tents. As stealthily as one could, wearing all black in an area of bright colours.
The language the voice spoke sounded familiar. He was fairly certain that it was English, as the boy had some experience with the language in the past, and that it was the language of the western allies. The idea of being surrounded by English speakers filled him with dread. The last he heard, the British and Americans had pushed their way deep enough into Germany to threaten Berlin. Berlin was already busy with it's Bolshevik infestation. The soldiers of Germany would have to send them off on their way before giving the English-speakers their fair beating too.
He caught himself thinking of home again. The boy shook the thoughts out of his head and started to jog his way to a secluded location by the fair.
After getting close enough, he ducked behind some tents, and began to browse around with his eyes. He'd have to do a little window shopping first before making his move.
And with how his stomach ached for food, he better make it quick...
Learning to zone out but still be able to function and react to stimuli was an artform that Luna had mastered. She had stood silently behind and to the side of her sister as she spoke into the microphone to the crowd. Before getting on stage, they had mutually agreed to scrap Luna's speech in favour of getting to the cakes quicker. This wasn't bad news, as she hadn't committed her speech to memory. However, she did have to stand on-stage awkwardly as her sister addressed the crowd, and be ready to approach the microphone and utter a simple "Thank you for attending", and perhaps even a "Have a wonderful day".
When the time came, Luna said just that, and stepped back from the microphone.
"I'm glad that's over and done with, Sister." Luna pipes up with a smile, following her sister off stage. The crowd that was once gathered around the stage with the podium now dispersed, spreading out all over the event grounds.
Celestia hums in agreement as she slows down her walk, allowing Luna to get off the steps and to join her at her side. They both look from left to right in unintentional unison, trying to decide whether they should tour the event site clockwise or anti-clockwise, and whether to spiral from the middle of the grounds to the outskirts or start from the outermost tents and work their way inward.
"This way." They said together, and pointing in opposite directions.
They lock eyes with one another and both give the other an amused smile.
"Oh, fine!"
They did it again.
Shaking her head, Luna was the first to make her move, subsequently winning the unspoken competition by walking in her desired direction, and beginning her march from the innermost of the layered ring of tents. Celestia chuckles to herself as she followed her sister, being mostly amused with her and part miffed by her irregular abrasiveness. One could justify it as being the byproduct of one thousand years of banishment, but that was only if someone was unacquainted with Luna.
The elder sibling had watched the princess of the night adjust to life in the modern day, making sure that she got up to speed with everything, making sure that she was comfortable, had her space, and most certainly being sure to listen to her. But Celestia knew there was an uncomfortable secret hiding behind her eyes. Luna never had that look in her eyes up until that very morning. She was certain that something rather significant happened last night.
Despite the storm of thoughts and inner monologues raging on between both their ears, their outward appearances were regal and warm. They had bucket load of lifetimes to practice their craft. As they walked, many attendees would go out of their way to give a polite bow to their beloved rulers, who would respond with an equally polite wave and a greeting.
"Luna?" Celestia pipes up after several minutes of browsing with her sister. The younger of the pair hummed in acknowledgement as she waved goodbye to a vendor she was speaking to prior. They continued their walk before the blue-haired princess looked up at her much taller sibling.
"You called?"
Celestia waited until some citizens were out of earshot after they walked past. "I know about last night."
Luna suppressed a flinch at the sudden reveal, but couldn't help but release a sigh of relief. "I don't suppose there's much point keeping it to myself anymore." She chuckles as she shook her head. "What gave it away? Me acting 'off'? Or perhaps you experienced it too?"
"Both, actually." Celestia smirks, allowing herself to feel just a little bit proud of her successful deduction. "Is it safe to assume that you weren't the cause?"
"Indeed, it is safe to assume so." Luna rubs her arm, "I was hoping that it was just me, and that I'd forget about it at some point down the line; never to bring it up again - as I have done many times. However, with you having experienced it as well, I fear that we may have some investigation to do. We can only hope that it is something of no major concern."
Celestia let Luna's words sit in the air for a moment as they continued their stroll. They were no alien to sinking feelings, nor were they unfamiliar with unexplainable magical happenings in the realm. Many great mysteries of the past were never solved, existing only in the sisters' memories and the pages of dusty books in some forgotten sections of old libraries. She understood Luna's initial anxiety and approach to the matter. Perhaps it really was nothing? Time and time again, history had shown that many strange matters were the opposite of a concern or threat.
Her train of thought was broken by catching Luna coming to a sudden stop in the corner of her eye. She, too, paused and turned herself to face her sister.
"I thought I heard my name." The cobalt-blue clad princess comments, just loud enough for Celestia to hear. In response to this, Celestia turned her head around in a radar-like fashion, trying to listen for her sister's name.
"Princess Luna!"
The voice was by no means faint. It simply struggled to work it's way around all the busy bodies at the market, as well as the overwhelming chatter. However, hearing something that resembled one's name never failed to catch the attention of any soul.
Some distance away, just peeking above the heads of roaming fair-goers, was a dark, blue-purple stall that stood out amongst the brightly coloured tents that flanked it. It looked not unlike a large lemonade stand that a creative young mind would cobble together, but instead of the sign above the stall displaying a lemon or whatever, the midnight blue sign had a cartoon of a crescent moon painted crudely on it. Underneath the sign was a little girl with a wide smile and waving her arms around wildly, evidently trying to attract the attention of the Princesses.
"That's adorable!" Luna gazed upon her sister, wearing an eager grin, as though all her worries of the night before had vanished. "We're definitely paying a visit!"
The pair made their way over to the rather unique stand, and were met with the young girl's beaming face. She wore what was evidently a cobalt dress made to look like what Princess Luna would be seen wearing, complete with a cardboard tiara sitting snuggly on her head, painted - or more accurately, dipped in a jet black paint, and further decorated with a white crescent moon and glitter. Her right cheek also had a crescent moon painted upon it, surrounded by a messy circle of now-chipping purple paint. Luna had difficulty telling if their hair on the child's head was naturally blue, or if she had dyed it to stay true to her costume. But, what was real was the little blue horn that stuck out of the girl's forehead.
"Mom! Dad!" The girl exclaimed with glee, turning her head to look at her parents. "They came! They came!" The elementary school aged child was practically bouncing with excitement, hardly believing that the princesses of the land were standing right there, in front of their humble little set-up.
Some paces away, behind the girl were the aforementioned married couple, who, in the spirit of fun and staying on-brand, were both dressed in remarkably accurate Night-Guard armour and uniform, with the exception being that their armour was quite obviously made of painted cardboard and paper-mache. A nice little detail, Luna thought, were the foam batwings that were stuck onto the back of their breastplates, which wobbled and bounced with even the slightest of movements. The pair were in the process of extracting a batch of cupcakes from an insulated box, to replenish the dwindling supply from the store-front. Upon being called, both the mother and father turned to look at just what their youngling was so excited about, their faces partially masked by their helmets. They, too, were unicorns.
"Your Majesties!" The girl's father would say after a startled jump and a gasp, his batwings comically flailing from his surprise. His wife would hold onto his shoulders to calm him down, before he spiraled into a panic attack. "We...I-uh..!"
"Ahem!" He fell silent at the insistence of his wife, "What he meant to say is that we are very pleased and honoured to have you come visit us." She offered the sovereigns a polite smile, shadowed by her husband who looked ready to freak out. The princesses maintained their smiles, with Luna looking twice as joyful as her sister.
"The pleasure is all mine!" Luna reciprocated, before turning her attention back to the girl. "What is your name, little one?" She asked, the girl having disappeared searching for something underneath the stand. The little Luna-clone shot straight back up as she was addressed, and took a seat back on her 40-inch stool.
"Midnight Song!" She answered, "But today, I'm Princess Luna!" The princess felt her heart melt. Celestia, meanwhile, took the liberty to have a chat with the girl's parents, talking about something or other to do with their products.
"That's wonderful! I'm very flattered!" Her eyes glanced over to one of the racks behind the girl, where several varieties of moon and Luna themed cakes were placed. It appeared that they were selling just fine, and Luna hoped that there were many more sales to come after the princesses of the land paid them a visit. "How much for one or two of those?" Luna asked, pointing a manicured finger at a group of cupcakes, decorated with blue icing and some sprinkles. This enquiry made Midnight grin wide.
"Oh! Oh! Don't worry about those!" The girl waved her arms dismissively. Before Luna could insist, assuming that Midnight didn't want the ruler to pay, Midnight turned to her parents and let them know it was time to bring out "the special thing". Immediately knowing what she was talking about, her father, excused himself from his wife and the Princess of the Daytime, and dug around near their make-shift storage area. "We hoped that you'd come! So! So! We got together and made something special for you, Princess!" Luna's eyes widened with glee and anticipation.
Something special? For her? Why, they shouldn't have! The princess of the night looked over to her elder sister, grinning wide and just barely able to maintain her composure. Celestia couldn't help but feel happy for Luna. Watching her younger sibling express genuine joy at the prospect of receiving a heartfelt gift from an adorable, adoring subject was something she wouldn't hesitate to describe as 'wonderful'.
If only such were the case over one thousand years ago.
Their collective attention now focused on Eventide, the name of whom Celestia had learnt from the wife, Singing Hymns, who now was holding a small, plain, wooden chest. It was around 1 foot in all dimensions, and looked just like a typical chest, bar the crescent moon that was painted on the wooden housing. The father set the chest down onto the "counter-top" of the stand, and spun it around to face the princesses. He then bowed at the waist, and took a step back from ~~his daug-~~ "Princess Luna", who could hardly wait to present the mystery item to the real Luna. Her little hands held onto the lid of the chest, ready to open it.
"We, Princess Luna, bestows upon thee, Princess Luna, a gift from the crown itself!" Midnight recites regally after calming herself down, sitting on her stool with her back straight. Luna leaned in slightly, engrossed in the little display that the young girl was creating, and giddily awaiting to see just what was inside the chest.
Without another word, Midnight pulled the lid of the chest open.
Luna's eyes had never seen such beauty in a box before.
"These look wonderful! Don't you think so?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Oh! And these! Good heavens! They're almost too cute to eat!"
"U-undoubtedly, ma'am." Snow Storm would have much preferred to pull the carriages again than to partake in...whatever the hay this was. It wouldn't have mattered really, since he was going to have to pull the carriages on the way back to the castle anyways. By the good graces of the sick hand of Fate, he had been chosen to serve as the designated cake, cupcake, confectionary Caddy for one of the Ladies-in-waiting of the crown. The job description was what it said on the tin: carrying treats. He had heard stories about those who had to carry out this all-important task years prior, and the infamy that these ladies had garnered due to their mercilessness. He thought that they were just stories, but what a fool he was.
He found himself carrying an armful of wooden pallets, stacked up to the point where he could just barely see anything in front of him, his vision obscured by the latest addition to the stack of sweet treats. Each pallet could easily hold twenty cupcakes each with change. Judging by the sizeable collection that currently burdened him, he had to have been carrying over one-hundred and 140 cupcakes. It didn't sound so bad, but the bulk of the weight came from the wood. That, and he had to maneuver his way around people that weren't paying attention to the man in golden armour, carrying a rowboat's worth of wood in his arms. His heart would jump even if the top-most pallet of cakes would wobble the minutest of amounts.
At the very beginning he was just peachy. He had been picked by a young noblewoman to follow said young noblewoman around for an hour, with front row seats to spectate her derrière without looking like a creep. And hey! There was a cupcake in it for him at the end. Who wouldn't be excited?
But as time went on, and the crates pilled up, his view full of 'cake' was replaced with actual cakes. A tragedy.
Some paces ahead of him was one Lady Crushed Velvet. He learned that her name was pronounced "Crush-Ed", because upper-class types were like that, Snow supposed. She carried herself as one would expect of a young woman under the influence of the crown, and she knew it. The minority of middle and upper-class people that attended the fair were outmatched by the majesty that the young Lady exuded. So far, not even half an hour into the start of their foraging, she had had already overwhelmed him with the bounties of the the first few stands they came across.
Granted, she was paying for them with the money that Celestia had given all the Ladies in waiting for this event, and thus were helping to support the hardworking people at the fair - but Celestia be damned! There was no such support for his poor arms and back! His hands and face were sweaty, and if he didn't do something about it soon, there'd be a disaster in the form of over one-hundred cupcakes being dropped to the ground.
"L-lady Velvet?" Snow managed to groan out after swallowing his pride and opting to speak up. "A moment of your time?" 'Please!' he then thought. The lady took a pause from her browsing, having spotted an array of cat-themed cupcakes, complete with little chocolate eyes, ears, and whiskers. She stood up straight after having been slightly bent over to closely examine the treats, before bringing herself to look at her escort, her luxurious, crimson head of hair swishing dramatically. A lower-class man interrupting a noble? He did not look forward to whatever words that were going to come out of her mouth, even if she was hot. He shut his eyes.
"Oh my goodness! Private Snow Storm! Are you alright?" She asked with genuine concern in her pleasant, velvety voice. "You haven't caught a fever, have you?" Velvet then inquired, having noticed the droplets of sweat that shone behind the exposed parts of him helm, despite the wall of wood between the pair.
Snow cautiously opened one eye just in time to see the girl reach out and press the back of her hand against the brow of his helmet, where his forehead would have been. What good that would have done to check his temperature; he wasn't sure. It was needless to say that he was pleasantly surprised by her tenderness, and the fact that she spoke to him as though he were a friend or a relative.
"I...uh, well, I'm not sick...ahem...I just wanted to say that, frankly, I don't think that I have it in me to carry any more than this for very long, my lady." He made sure to express his exhaustion and pain by subtly shaking and wobbling, hoping to garner just enough sympathy to warrant heading back to the carriages to put the goods down.
Unbeknownst to the pair, the topmost pallet had a splintering gap in the side, just big enough for a cupcake to fit through with enough encouragement from gravity itself. Additionally, not one pair of eyes in the whole fair noticed the strangely dressed boy, staring at the cakes in Snow's custody.
Crushed Velvet smiled with apologetic eyes. During her time in the service of Princess Celestia, she had learned quite a lot. It was clear that the Princess wanted to encourage the girls to live, breathe, and spread friendship and kindness to the whole world, like a warm hug. She and the other ladies-in-waiting were familiar with the adventures and stories of Princess Celestia's prized pupil Twilight Sparkle, with the Solar princess sharing the heartfelt letters sent from the student to her with the girls under the wing.
Velvet had learned many important lessons in friendship from the letters, lessons that were never taught to her by the tutors her own family had in their employ. One such lesson taught to her was the value found in having the strength and courage to seek out help if someone found themselves in a spot of bother, in lieu of stubbornly shouldering the burden alone and potentially hurting themselves.
Velvet saw an example of this in Snow Storm, who was not physically strong enough to carry the admittedly excessive number of cakes and pallets, but had a strong enough mind to seek help when he sorely needed it. She admired the man she saw in front of her, despite only having met minutes ago, and couldn't help but feel her heart pick up in pace a little as she looked at him in this new light.
Snow, on the other hand, would not have given two bucks about lessons in friendship. His arms hurt. His back hurt. His ankles cried out in pain. He wanted to drop this load as soon as possible.
"My sincere apologies, Miste- Private Storm! It didn't occur to me that you were struggling! Come!" She walked past him for a few steps, hiding her embarrassed blush from his view by heading in the direction of the carriages. "Come this way!"
Keeping his eyes glued onto the pallets, the guard would slowly turn himself around on the spot. His commitment to his shaking act helped to convince the lady to temporarily suspend their procurement of treats for the castle staff for now. However, as though the powers that be willed it so, there had to be something to bring balance for his actions. His trembling and his movement from turning around had directly contributed to one cupcake edging closer and closer to the breach in the ultimate wooden pallet.
Both Snow and Velvet could see the rich, red icing on the cupcake tipping out of the box, as though the world moved in slow motion. He could just about observe every detail of the cupcake as it was separated from the box, the baked good helplessly subject to the merciless and ever-present mistress that was gravity. Snow could also see Velvet raise a hand to her mouth to conceal a gasp. It became evident that the further the item fell, the less likely of a chance something could be done to save the poor little baked good.
With a gentle plop, the cupcake landed liner first into the palm of a boy. The very same boy who had been watching from afar.
The two sisters departed from "Princess Luna's" cupcake stand, with the actual princesses leaving with warmth in their hearts and wonderful treats in their hands. It was clear to see that Luna was perfectly fine with expressing her excitement outwardly, with a little bounce in her step and an enormous smile that Celestia hadn't seen on her sister's face in....ever, really. She had every reason to be as bubbly and so full of joy as Pinkie Pie. In addition to this, their visit to the stand had benefitted the family greatly. It had been some seconds after they had departed and quite a decently sized crowd was already swarming the stand, much to the excitement of one Midnight Song and that of her parents.
Princess Celestia briefly shut her eyes after determining that she wouldn't bump into anyone. Here she was, on a sunny afternoon, making memories with her sister. It was something so simple, but it was significant in many other ways, and she was certain that Luna would share her sentiment. She opened her eyes again, and brought her attention to the quaint little gift basket in her hands, with her left hand supporting the base of the basket, and her right loosely wrapped around the handle that arched high in between the parallel sides of the wicker vessel. Sitting atop the blue and white cloth that lined the inside of the small basket, patterned to mimic a picnic blanket, were an array of the family's Luna-themed cupcakes. All 6 sat shoulder-to-shoulder, waiting to be eaten. Who was Celestia to deprive the treats of their glory?
She lit her horn, encompassing one lucky cupcake in her golden aura and lifting it out of formation, and held it at mouth level. The princess peeled the paper cup away from the bottom of the cupcake and let it drop into the basket, before taking a generous bite out of the cupcake.
And then another.
It was gone. Celestia's cheeks slowly began to burn a soft red after she'd realised what she had done, and how improper it was. But her concern for her public image was thrust into the back of her mind as the sweetness of the icing and the softness of the cake made themselves known. Now, they were no Sugarcube Corner cupcakes, but what the cupcakes lacked in superior quality was made up for by sugar and the love that went into making them. She gulps her mouthful after chewing for some time, before casting her eyes over to Luna, who had her own treat to enjoy.
The cupcake that Midnight had gifted to Luna was certainly special. One obvious characteristic was that it was large. Luna could just barely wrap both her hands and her fingers around the thinnest part of the cupcake base, but otherwise didn't seem to be struggling to hold the comically large confection. Another characteristic stood out to Celestia as well. She hadn't even taken a bite out of it yet.
"Luna," Celestia starts, just after wiping a piece of residual icing off her lip with a napkin in her magic, "Aren't you going to eat that?" In response to this, Luna's smile turned into a sly smirk as she turned her attention to her elder sister.
"Why? Doth thou want some?" The little blue devil playfully shifted her upper body to the side to shield the cupcake from Celestia's vision. "Because we're not giving you any~" Luna had every reason to not share the cake, much like a child unwilling to share their new toy with their friends or siblings. It was a nice gift, after all. At some point in the baking process, the batter was dyed, giving the cupcake its cyan blue appearance, clearly visible underneath the semi-transparent paper cup. The icing atop it was a brilliant sapphire, and had been applied in a way to form a swirl, not unlike ice-cream looked when dispensed from a machine. Sugar pearls were lovingly sprinkled atop the icing to create stars upon the "night sky", but did not completely overwhelm sweetest part of the cupcake. As a finishing touch, a white chocolate crescent moon sat proudly on the pinnacle of the icing, with some small, white chocolate stars creating a ring around it.
It was an edible love-letter to the night.
Luna returned to a normal walking posture, and held the confection up to her eye level. It was beautiful.
While Luna admired the treat in her hands, Celestia could hear some commotion above the surrounding chatter, originating from behind. She didn't turn around, as she rationalised that people were getting a little excited back at Midnight's cupcake stand, but her mental alarm was raised when she heard a cry unheard in the city of Canterlot for many years.
"Stop! Thief!"
This call for help did not go unheard to Luna, who snapped herself out of her trance to turn around, mildly annoyed that her first bite was interrupted by some drama. All she saw upon doing a 180 was a boy running towards her, his head turned to look back at whomever was giving him chase.
"Scheiße! Scheiße! Scheiße!" was what she heard before the collision.
Who knew such a small body had enough force to knock her over? For a brief second, she and the mystery assailant were an unsightly entanglement of limbs and obliterated cupcake in the air, before crashing down onto the dirt of the event ground. Luna had just enough awareness to tuck her chin into her chest to avoid smacking the back of her skull into the unyielding earth, but could not react fast enough to not end up winded from the brutal fall.
It wasn't every day that a Princess would walk amongst their subjects at an otherwise uneventful bake sale. Even rarer still was to be the lucky few who witnessed a Princess accidentally get tackled to the ground in full view of the public. The lack of popcorn was substituted by the various treats that one had bought earlier.
Celestia, one of the few who watched as the incident happened, found herself not only amazed by the sudden turn of event, but was also amazed by the subsequent shocked silence. Not a mouth moved, no one dared to breathe, and not even a bird had called. More and more eyes would fall upon the scene, curious as to what had happened. All eyes that looked could see that Princess Luna lay on her back in an unsightly manner, and a foot away from her was the unconscious form of her attacker. Luna slowly raised herself up into a sitting position, holding a hand to her chest and performing some breathing exercises to recover from the fall. Her eyes widened and her pupils shrunk as she felt something squish against her dress, between it and her hand.
Her gift was reduced to mush, smothered all over her hands, some parts of her dress, and the rest was spread all over the ground. Shortly after this, a Royal Guard by the name of Snow Storm jogged up to the crime scene, having been the one in pursuit of the boy. His eyes widened terror, fearing the worst after his eyes landed on the toppled co-ruler of Equestria.
"P-Princess Luna! Are you alright?!" He half-yelled and half-gasped, both from the shock of the scene and from his exhaustion. He was the first to break the uncomfortable silence.
Those not present at the fair, or were too far away to bear witness to the incident were left confused and dazed by the pained cry of an emotionally harmed Princess of the night, using her unbridled Royal Canterlot VoiceTM for the first time in a long time.
"MY CAAAAAAAKE!"
Author's Note
(New notes)
Quite a long chapter, eh? Had to re-write this a few times, and I'm happy that it turned out decently. I hope it's clear to see that there is a significant difference between how this is written and how it used to look before. And I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed imagining it.
(Old Notes)
Well..uh. New chapter. If anyone is still reading; thank you for dealing with my crap writing and lack of pacing.
No refunds for time, though!
