The lunar pegasus filly known as Threnody stared up at Celestia as the monarch studied her. Very few things ever looked Celestia in the eye directly. Threnody seemed to have very little fear of anything, if she had any fear at all, and Celestia could not understand the accusations of cowardice. The filly blinked occasionally, but not nearly as often as a solar pegasus might. The little filly was smallish for her age, slight for her female status, thin and slender rather than the usual brutish bulk the females of her kind had. She had the rare heterochromic condition that existed for the lunar pegasi, one eye being orange, the other amber yellow.

Threnody had endured a few feeding sessions with Coronach, the small filly pleading with her sire to eat, begging him, and Coronach had done nothing. Celestia had been forced to get every bite down, Threnody’s weeping in her ears as well as Coronach’s.

The weeping had created a haunting funeral dirge between the two of them.

“You fascinate me Threnody,” Celestia said, still studying the filly that stood watching her. “It is a shame that your own kind see you as weak and useless. Pacifism takes courage and strong conviction.”

The filly nodded, her oversized tufted ears bobbing as she did so.

“Something must be done with you. You are entirely to valuable to allow to slip away. There is potential in you. Threnody, how would you like to become my page? My messenger? When I need to get a message somewhere in a hurry, like to the commander of my guard or to Festus and I cannot take the time to go there myself,” Celestia offered.

Threnody looked thoughtful, her fangs peeking out from her lips, as she continued to look upward at Celestia. “Would I be welcomed among their kind?” she asked, squirming slightly, a faint trace of fear and worry now finally visible. “There are so many that want to kill me after what has taken place,” she added.

“We must put these differences behind us and began to move forward. I believe that having you as my page would be a good first step. A page is somepony that requires much trust, as you give them some very important and private messages. I think it would do everypony some good for them to see that I trust you, and, by extension, I can place trust in your kind,” Celestia said, explaining the finer point of her belief.

“My kind should not be trusted, we were duplicitous and treacherous,” Threnody retorted, now turning her gaze away, casting her eyes downward.

“You are not like that, and surely there must be others like you. Coronach is certainly not like that. I must trust that there are good ponies like you in the lunar pegasi ranks,” Celestia argued, her tone one of desperation.

“Like my sire, I shall serve you in whatever capacity you command of me,” Threnody said, her head still bowed. “It is my place to serve, and I will do so gladly. You care for my sire, I am obligated to pay his debts being his flesh and blood.”

“I do not want to command you Threnody. I want to ask you if I can trust you and if you will help me. This is one of the many small first steps that must be taken towards rebuilding. If I command you to serve, it is very different than you offering to assist me,” Celestia explained, her eyes narrowing and her ears falling back.

“I will serve the empire in whatever way I can in exchange for my sire’s good care,” Threnody offered.

“No, Threnody, I am sorry, but this cannot be, I cannot have ponies think that I am holding your father hostage to gain your service. This has to be about you,” Celestia replied patiently.

“I understand,” Threnody acknowledged, her head nodding, “I shall serve to restore the trust recently lost between my kind and those of the day.”

“I accept your service, there will be a more formal ceremony later where you are publicly sworn in as my page and there are witnesses,” Celestia said. “This job requires you be at my side always, except when you are delivering messages of course.”

Threnody nodded several times and then looked up at Celestia. “Please keep my sire alive. I have lost so much. I… suppose I do not share the views of my kind or their values. Perhaps I am selfish, but I want him alive,” Threnody confessed, one hoof tracing a circle upon the somewhat burnt rug in the middle of the room where she sat.

“I want your father alive for my own reasons, so maybe I am selfish as well,” Celestia confessed, revealing a very private and intimate part of herself to Threnody. “I have lost so much control over everything else, the empire is falling apart, ponies keep dying despite my best efforts, it is though your father has become a prize in my mind, something I still have some influence over,” Celestia confessed.

“I am not sure what to say,” Threnody replied. “But I can listen as well as carry messages,” she offered.

Celestia smiled, a soft watery smile of gratitude, more tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

“Your kind are truly amazing, already your wounds have healed so much, I still cannot understand how you draw breath,” Festus said, applying a fresh bandage. “I am learning so much about wound care from you, this is a rare opportunity, what I learn could save lives. As I predicted, leaving some wounds open has showed positive signs, allowing sickness to weep out. It really is better to pack them with poultices and bandages, and then allow them to heal with from the inside outward. Stitching them closed would only trap the sickness inside, cause the two lips of the wound to heal together, and would leave a hollow in the middle that I have witnessed from previous attempts on others. Lancing those hollows is a foul task.”

Coronach patiently waited for the long winded griffon to finish his work. Festus was a good griffon, quite unlike the griffon’s own kind… much in the same way that Coronach felt that he was unlike his own kind, the lunar pegasi. Festus was a bit like Threnody, unwilling to commit to war, to bring harm to another, and refused to take part in the slavery practices of his own kind. Festus had found his place among Celestia’s ranks after being captured by the solar guard along the eastern borders. The griffons still controlled the eastern coast, and they were always looking for food or slaves. Festus had earned Celestia’s trust.

And much of the guard as well. Festus was considered a valuable asset to the guard, and they looked after their assets.

“We are going to be moving you soon to Canterhorn fortress. I’ve been there to inspect your new quarters, you will have a chamber connected directly to Celestia’s. I have overseen the construction of a sliding rail along the ceiling, and there is a balcony, so we can move you outside. I do believe a little moonlight will do wonders to aid in your healing. Won’t that be nice?” Festus said, passing the time while he dug out tightly wadded bandages packed into a wound. There was an immense feeling of pressure being relieved as he did so, which caused Coronach to groan slightly, quite against his own will.

“Sorry if that hurts, but the bandages must be changed. This wound has festered a bit. I am going to pour a tincture into the gash, this may sting a little,” Festus warned.

It did not sting a little.

What was it with healers and their need to lie about the how little pain they caused?

“I suspect that you are going to live and you are going to make a good recovery, but I am optimistic in that way. I am still labouring under the assumption that you should not be alive, but you are alive, and healing, so I can only assume that you will survive and get better. Perhaps not the best logic I have produced, but you defy logic my big shaggy friend. Now, as your physician, I must demand that you eat more if you can, and that you allow someone to feed you without such a fuss. I am changing your fish paste to make it denser. Your body needs more to work with if you are going to heal,” the griffon said, huffing a few times in annoyance, his beak clicking several times as he spoke.

“She keeps pinching my snoot,” Coronach complained.

“You keep giving her reasons,” Festus retorted.

“I cannot simply give in. I have taken a contrary position and now I must defend it until such a time that I can care for myself. If I gave in now, I’d look weak,” Coronach confessed to his surgeon.

Coronach could not see the griffon rolling his eyes.

“You are a fool,” Festus chided.

Coronach did not reply as he felt Festus unraveling the bandages around his head.

“I have sewn most of your eye socket shut, leaving a hole to allow for drainage. Let me have a look at it,” explained Festus as the bandages came off. “Hrmm, looks much better than I thought it would,” Festus admitted. “The gash that was left when your eye was taken is also healing much better than I thought it would. That gash was down to the bone in some places, and even the bone itself had been grooved.”

The griffon was poking around and prodding, testing and probing with his claw. It was painful, but the pain had been dulled considerably with the compounds the griffon was still working on to kill pain. Pain was the healer’s mortal enemy, and Festus waged war on pain in the same way the pegasi had waged war upon Discord.

As the griffon laboured, Coronach heard the door open and hoofsteps entered the room. A familiar scent flooded Coronach’s nostrils.

“Sire, how are you?”

Threnody’s voice was melodic and beautiful to his ears. Coronach lacked the vocabulary to express his emotions for his offspring. Coronach did not reply. Could not reply. His daughter had sided with his hated enemy, encouraging the dreadful snoot pinching and letting Celestia know that she was in the right.

“Sire, Celestia is going to make me her page,” Threnody said softly.

Coronach felt a huge rush of relief. Pagehood. A valuable and meaningful position of service. He hated Celestia a little less at that moment. Pages were also protected by the royal guard, looked after fiercely, and it was a crime to interfere or bring harm to them. Celestia had made a good move to make sure that Threnody would be protected from those who sought revenge against the lunar pegasi. Coronach wondered briefly if Threnody even understood what was being done to look after her.

Coronach struggled not to weep, pressing all of his emotion down inside, feeling a rush of gratitude. He had been right in choosing to serve both monarchs. Celestia was as kind and benevolent as the stories claimed. And wiley as well. This was a master stroke to pillage his already weakened defenses. Celestia had to know that Threnody bringing him this news would lead him to these conclusions. Coronach was an old salt, rapidly approaching the quarter century mark. He was getting old and experienced, and now he was old and crippled. He hung limply in his sling, hating what remained of his life.

“Sire, forgive me for being so disrespectful, but not speaking to me because I took sides with Celestia is foolish. You… you are a stupid foolish old oaf!” Threnody cried, stomping her hoof in frustration.

“Yes, he is that indeed,” Festus agreed.

Coronach felt a secret sense of pride. Threnody was brave enough to tell him off. She was no coward, that much he knew for certain. He had done well in raising her. He had reached her. His many lessons had sunk in.

“You stubborn chamberpot nightsoil for brains heart like a stone fool! I should pinch your snoot myself!” Threnody threatened.

Coronach knew her threats were meaningless. Threnody didn’t even like killing the fish she captured to eat.

“Threnody darling, please remain calm,” Festus soothed.

Coronach heard a rustling sound and suddenly his snoot was alive with pain, being squeezed between Threnody’s grasping digit and her central wing knuckle. She even twisted a bit, causing white hot pain to go lancing through his face. Eventually, the painful pinch was released after several moments. Coronach heard a loud wailing cry and then hooves thudding over the stone floor as Threnody fled the room, now sobbing.

“I am so very proud of her,” Coronach gasped when he and Festus were finally alone and it was safe to say something.

“You sir, are an oaf and a barbarian. I cannot believe you made her endure that,” Festus said with a hint of anger. “But it is easy to see where she gets her strength and resilience,” he added.

Author's Note

It isn't very often that I get to drag out the word "nightsoil."