The castle was nearly a ruin now. Much of it was unsafe. The parts of it that still stood did so in the pale light of the second dawn, after one very long night. With the return of the sun, Celestia had begun to heal again, but slowly, she will still in great pain, and still unable to see much in one eye. Her connection to the sun had been severed, she had realised, and she had been in mortal peril.

It had made what Coronach had done even more important.

The lunar pegasi lay, even now, inches away from death, somehow still alive, his broken and battered body thoroughly thrashed beyond any sustainable belief. Celestia had trouble accepting that he was still alive. More broken bones than could be counted. Multiple gaping holes from multiple impalements. Sucking barrel wounds. Wounds. One alone was usually fatal, but Coronach had sustained several.

And she was completely unable to heal him or restore him due to his shadow nature. it was knowledge that unsettled her and made her feel uneasy. She stood at the crenellations, proud and resolute, sorrowful and grief stricken, and regretting the order she had given.

The decision had been made to abandon this castle. It was a grave now, full of ghosts, bad memories, and dead things. Clover had been entombed in the hidden vault where the Elements had been hidden. The Elements themselves had vanished, gone, they had flashed with a brief light and then disappeared. Equestria's one great hope, now seemingly gone forever. Celestia felt no hope at all. The future was completely unknown, uncertain, there was no clear path forward.

“Your Majesty, Canterhorn Fortress has been prepared for your arrival. The evacuations go well. The common citizenry go willingly, they too wish to leave this place. The dead are still being recovered, the Honour Guard work tirelessly to give them the respect they deserve. Even those who served Her are being buried and looked after properly. Enemies or not, they held to their oaths and served Her to the most bitter of ends, and that must be respected. We shall not be enemies in death.”

The grieving monarch turned to look at Heat Stroke, a brave and loyal guard. He was more poet than warrior, and Celestia was relieved to know that he had lived. She would need Heat Stroke now more than ever.

“Coronach has been made as comfortable as possible as he conveleses. I do not understand how he is alive, but he still lives. He grumbles constantly, but I do believe that he has earned the right to do so, all things considered. He is refusing to take food or water though. Festus, the griffon surgeon, believes that Coronach is attempting passive suicide, and poor Festus is very confused on what to do because of his oath to do no harm,” Heat Stroke continued.

“Confused?” asked Celestia.

“Well, either way, Festus is doing harm. Keeping Coronach alive at this point is causing unbelievable harm. Allowing him to die would also be doing harm. Festus is quite distraught and is caught in a philosophical conundrum that I myself share,” explained Heat Stroke.

“Coronach is to be kept alive by any means necessary. If he will not take sustenance, than I shall deal with him personally. I will also make sure his transport to Canterhorn Fortress goes smoothly. I need more time for my wing to heal,” commanded Celestia, causing Heat Stroke to flinch in discomfort.

“Your Majesty, forgive me for speaking out place, but keeping him alive seems cruel…”

“You are not forgiven,” interrupted Celestia, causing Heat Stroke to drop his head in shame. She glared at him. “There has been enough death. Coronach has become a prize. A symbol. We must struggle to rebuild. To heal. To live again. Coronach was tough enough to endure his trials of abuse, he is still alive, and he will endure through this. Of this, I am confident and certain.”

Heat Stroke nodded, unable to meet the gaze of his monarch. He dared not suggest that he thought she might be suffering from a bit of madness perhaps, or a lapse in judgment. At least, not now, when the wounds were still so fresh. Potentially a little mad or not, Celestia seemed regal standing over the ruined battlements, watching the work around her, assisting at times with her magic, behaving as a symbol for her hardworking followers, giving them hope, and protecting them even now.

Equestria’s enemies had smelled blood and weakness…

The horribly abused lunar pegasus was a mess. He was covered in bandages, packed with foul smelling poultices, and was suspended from the ceiling by a sling, his legs left dangling. He twitched as Celestia approached, his nostrils flaring.

Celestia looked upon him and felt pity.

“I hear that you are refusing to take in food or water,” Celestia said softly, standing before him, gently touching his snoot with her good wingtip. “I have come to remedy this situation,” she announced.

“No,” groaned Coronach weakly, his voice faint. “I serve you, you do not serve me, I will not allow this indignity,” he wheezed, his voice wet and gurgly.

Celestia pulled a table closer with her magic, and upon the table was a bowl filled with a thin fish paste gruel, which smelled terrible, and a pitcher of water.

“If you wish to behave like a foal, I will oblige you,” Celestia said, her tone implying a final warning.

“Why do you do this?” asked Coronach in a weak soggy whisper.

“You defied me and told me “no” in the passageway leading to the vault,” explained Celestia, feeling a touch of annoyance at the memory. “I do not think that anypony has ever so brazenly defied an order before, or has ever told me no during my time as a Princess.”

“Then I take pleasure in being the first,” grumbled Coronach with a smug sounding sodden wheeze.

Celestia felt a very real flash of anger. Nopony had ever been this insolent to her, other than Luna. It was an uncomfortable feeling that made her feel insecure and a bit afraid. Coronach had no fear of her.

The fish paste was foul smelling and horrid to one who eats plants, and Celestia’s nose crinkled as she dipped a spoon into it, breaking the crust on the surface of the bowl, causing an unpleasant fishy smell to flood the room. She felt herself gagging slightly. She held up the spoon before Coronach and waited for him to open up.

Which of course, he did not do.

“I understand that you cannot see, but there is a spoon that patiently awaits your invitation,” cooed Celestia, her tone gentle, encouraging, and almost motherly.

Coronach’s bandage covered face moved only slightly, his lips pressing together, his nostrils flaring. His body, suspended in the sling, twitched slightly in a few places, causing blossoms of blood to appear on the bandages.

“Fine then, be a foal,” snapped Celestia, her patience wearing thin. Still holding the spoon aloft in her magic, she seized a hold of the tender flesh of Coronach’s nose, digging in and pinching painfully, squeezing for several seconds until Coronach opened his mouth to whimper. When he did, Celestia jammed in the spoon full of fish paste.

Which Coronach promptly spat out, covering Celestia with the foul smelling fishy mess, which clung to her white pelt, looking greyish pink and disgusting.

“I must assume that you know what you did,” muttered Celestia, now very annoyed and slightly angry.

“I live to serve, not to be served,” replied Coronach, still spitting fishy bits out, the sounds of his breathing laboured and heavy with pain. “And I will die knowing that I served.”

“Very well my little pony of noble servitude, I command you to eat,” Celestia demanded.

There was no reply, no response, Coronach lapsed into silence and his mouth was pressed closed. The only sound he made was his burbling breathing.

Celestia wanted to stomp her hoof in anger and begin shouting. She had very little experience in this situation. She could not threaten with flogging, she could not command, she could not reason with this big dumb shaggy brute that was thwarting her efforts.

It was entirely infuriating.

The spoon was readied with a new bite of fish paste gruel and Celestia seized down cruelly upon Coronach’s nostrils, squeezing relentlessly and ruthlessly, waiting for his mouth to open.

Which it did not.

Coronach mewled and whimpered pitifully, his broken body now gone beyond the point of being able to deal a pain in his tender snoot. The sounds he made were heartbreaking.

Celestia realised with some great degree of shame that she had done something that Nightmare Moon had not done to this noble guard… She had broken him. With a single snoot pinch. She felt truly awful, she could feel the guilt settling into her heart and letting her know that she was a terrible pony, but she did not relent. Not now. A contest of wills had been joined and Celestia would only know victory, as she had done with every other challenge in life.

Finally, his mouth opened and Celestia rammed the spoon in, turned it sideways to spill its contents, pulled it out, and then forced his jaws closed with her magic, all in one swift smooth movement.

Coronach did not swallow.

Celestia, feeling terrible burning shame and regret, her emotions still raw from dealing with Luna, made the heart rending decision to pinch his nostrils shut and then had to wait for his need to draw air.

A healthy lunar pegasus could endure many minutes without air, capable of flying above the air at the edges of space.

Coronach was not healthy, but he was stubborn. After several agonising minutes, he swallowed and then Celestia allowed his mouth to open so he could breath in much needed air.

“I hate you,” he gasped.

Celestia was at a complete loss for how to respond. Nopony had ever said that, other than Luna. A few griffons had, a dragon or two, but in general, ponies were far too afraid to ever utter those words. And those words stung Celestia discovered. She found herself recoiling away from the guard as his harsh words.

She readed the spoon, preparing to begin this process again, when there was a distinct sound of running water, followed by a few wet sounding splats. Coronach whimpered once again, his nostrils flaring, and Celestia realised that something had fallen into the wide basin located below Coronach’s backside.

Celestia came to the painful conclusion that he had probably been holding it this whole time, waiting for her to leave, and her torturous feeding had eroded his ability to hold back. Even in this state, the guard had clung to his dignity, never saying anything, never speaking of his need, just holding back and hoping he could endure.

She heard the distinct sound of weeping, an unmistakable sound, and felt a stabbing pain go through her heart. The lunar pegasi was now broken in body and mind, and Celestia was responsible.

Again, she thought of something that she had done, something that her sister, for all her cruelty, had not done. The guard slung before her was now broken and ashamed.

Celestia felt sick, but remained dedicated to her course of action.

“You will need to be cleaned so the skin does not fester and turn ulcerous,” she whispered, realising all too well that she was about to inflict even more hurt and humiliation upon one who had served her so selflessly, so faithfully. She burned with ignominy and humiliation.

Celestia pulled a basin of fresh water to her, filled it with water, and then moved around to Coronach’s backside. Taking up a clean folded cloth from the pile nearby, placed upon a chest, she began to clean the whimpering and weeping guard, his body twitching away from her magical touch, the sounds he made were heart rending.

“I’m sorry,” Celestia said in a strained sob of her own. “But this needs to be done, and I am the only one present at the moment.” Celestia checked her work, making sure the flesh was left clean, worried that sickness and rot would set in.

After a moment of composure, she resumed her task of trying to feed Coronach, only to discover that he still refused to accept the spoon.

“Damn you!” Celestia growled, hating him for making her endure this, tears now flooding down her cheeks, her face burning with shame, regret, and fury.

Celestia resigned herself to her fate, callously pinching down upon his nose with her magic, feeling her own heart bleed as she was forced to apply pressure once again. In the back of her mind, she realised that she was not thinking about her sister’s betrayal, and was thankful for this distracting task.

Author's Note

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