The regal princess of the night, powerful, incorruptible, elegant, and shrewd, was resting her head on the soft, silken pillow she had so often turned away from to attend to her duties before sleep could make her stay. She had only so much time in a day, and she could spend it so much better than to wait for sleep to claim her. Though she had so frequently denied herself the rejuvenating respite she needed, her son and sister had insisted that she take off this day, even if The Gala was on this night.
And so, with the princess dormant, guarded, and assured, Celestia turned her head to gaze at her replacement.
He was still very young, for his horn was but a nub atop his forehead, and his cheeks were still a bit chubbier than other ponies' his age. His leathery wings were protected from the outside world by a thin layer of velvety black fur, and the ivory claw on either wing's edge was curved, smooth, and shimmered in the light of the chandeliers above.
His pelt was a deep shade of navy blue, enough that many had mistaken it for black. His eyes were a rugged shade of earthy brown, with each bearing two vertical slits for pupils, though, he had disguised them as normal for the night to come. His ears were longer and wider than most other ponies', and his smile was one as sincere as he could make.
His suit was a delicate shade of blue, with white cuffs around his hooves, and a matching collar, with a nice pink bow tie around his neck. Golden buttons decorated a vertical line down the right side of his chest where the blue vest closed in around him.
He had not been well as of late. His mind had been troubled. His thoughts were clouded with memories of a place he had never truly known, but one that he had lived in for the entirety of his life, or not, depending on how one thought about it.
Canterlot existed on the side of a mountain, a location, but was a place. A place and a location were distinctly different things. A place needed a location to exist, but could be moved. A home could leave one house, and relocate itself to wherever its family went. A house was a building, but a home was a feeling.
A location was just a set of coordinates, but a place is a much less tangible thing.
Just a thousand and a few years before, he had been born on the same side of the same mountain where he now stood, but into a very different world, and a very different place. Nocturnia had been his home for all of a week, before he and his mother had fled the city at his father's orders.
And where was that city now? Where had all of its grandeur and people gone after he'd left it?
It was underneath his feet, burned, destroyed, and all of the people along with it.
Every single bat pony had died at the will of what remained of The Crystal Empire's armies, and those of the changeling queen. They had killed all of them, all except for one.
And so he stood, greeting the guests of his aunt's party, pretending that nothing was wrong.
He was crying inside, and every face he saw brought him down another peg, as the angst and the frustration of teenage life threatened to spill over his calm facade of a calm, caring prince.
He was the last one. The penultimate bat pony had, according to legend, been his father, standing beside his only other child, Chrysanthemum, a changeling mare unafraid to die at her mother's hoof, surrounded by the crystal and changeling armies, who had allegedly shouted, "At least my love still lives," in the old Bat language, before he was cut down by Queen Chrysalis.
The allied armies had cleared the streets of ash and bone, then left the burning city without a single resident. Celestia had once led the crystal ponies' church, and a revolution against King Sombra, but had no standing with the legion that had burned her sister's only home. She had led from The Everfree Castle, an early form of modern Equestria, before Luna stumbled into the courtyard, with her infant son in tow.
Nightmare Moon had ensured that the Castle of the Two Sisters was not long for this world, but Luna had hidden her son from the monster inside of her, so he would be safe.
Celestia had moved into what remained of Nocturnia, a ruined town of maybe a few hundred ponies who'd sought shelter in the ruins, and renamed it Canterlot.
Nocturnia, as a place, was gone, and had been for a thousand years, but Canterlot now stood upon the ashes of his old home, and the prince had difficulty reconciling his two identities, that of a Nocturnian citizen, and a member of Canterlot royalty.
He knew that the crystal ponies who still lived couldn't be held accountable for the actions of the rogue legion that had attacked his home, but he was still angry. He couldn't find anyone to be angry with, except for Queen Chrysalis, who had convinced them to attack Nocturnia in the first place.
But Chrysalis was hard to interact with, as she was always in hiding, so he was just angry, angry in a way that only young people can be. But he had no place to direct his anger, no target for his wrath, but loathing plagued him nonetheless.
Celestia's hoof tapped his shoulder, and, after a moment of trying to figure out why, he realized that he had been glooming. He straightened out his back, and spread out his wings for the guests to see. Lifting his head up, he crossed his foreleg across his chest, and took in a deep breath. As he exhaled, he straightened out his knee, and closed his eyes.
He remained still for a moment, internally telling off the thoughts that had been bothering him for the last week or so. He knew that he had to deal with his internal problems. Maybe he'd visit that clinical psychologist wolf. What was his name again?
He considered a few puns that he'd been keeping on a list in his bedroom for a good giggle when his illness got the better of him, though they didn't really help.
Celestia eyed her nephew for a moment, and said, "Think about what you still have."
He had his mother. Even if she was often too busy for him, he loved her. He had his adopted sister, Sweet Tooth. Though she was hard to get along with at times, and he'd never admit it to her face, he loved her with all his heart. He loved that changeling to death, even if his affections could be explained as his instinct as her only drone.
He still remembered being turned into a changeling, the green glow of the chrysalis's fluidic contents around him, and the acidic sting of his hooves being dissolved. He remembered looking at them in horror, and the fire that had consumed him as his body was made into organic goo, then reassembled in an entirely different shape. He most vividly remembered the pain that had filled his mother's eyes when she'd found him.
All of that, and Chrysalis still breathed. She had burned into his memory an event so horrible, so viscerally upsetting, that his episodes had gotten demonstrably worse in the following months.
But, he also remembered the mare he would call his sister, saving his life for the first time in a long tradition they had of tallying up the instances in which they'd rescued one another.
He remembered their first kiss, a purely transactional gesture, so that she could feed upon his emotional energy, and how his wings had shot out at his sides in that first instant of lip contact.
He remembered their first time. Even if it didn't count because they'd been under the effects of a lust spell that had turned the entire castle staff into a bunch of teenagers on prom night, and a personalized love spell, both of which had been conjured up by a millennia old Chrysanthemum, the only other demigod ever born.
They hadn't been more than ten years old at the time, but he still remembered it well, and the mental breakdown Sweet Tooth had when Luna had walked in on them.
But, he didn't really think so much about that particular part of that particular day, because a lot of much more important and interesting things had transpired over a course of twelve hours on that particular day. Though, he'd have been lying if he said that he didn't look back on that memory with a special fondness.
He had Flurry Heart, such a kind and loving soul, for an adopted second cousin once removed. She was boisterous, and sometimes loud, but he loved her nonetheless.
He had such a wonderful and wacky family to fall back on if he ever stumbled, and he had what was probably the most unique role in all of Equestria's history, as the second demigod, born to one of the three original alicorn sisters, a prince, and a Supreme Court justice. He was an odd pony, in a comfy little world, with everything he needed.
It just kinda sucked that all of his family members were always busy with summits and legislation.
He had friends. Button Mash was off on Ponyville, with a door always open to both of the nocturnal royalty for a night of blasting one another's holographic avatars to pieces in a digital world, and getting wrecked by Luna. He was fun, dedicated, and honestly didn't let their status as royalty affect how he treated them, so long as they weren't in public.
Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo were all doing pretty well for themselves.
But his thoughts kept coming back to Sweet Tooth. He missed her often. She was still at school, working for some underground monster hunting agency. S.M.I.L.E. he believed it was called. She was gonna whop some serious flank on the field, and everypony who knew anything about her was sure of it.
He couldn't go visit her, because he was always tied down with his responsibilities of the daily administration of Equestria.
He just hoped that she still loved him, if she ever had to begin with, and that she'd come home someday, alive.
What he would do the day she returned.
He opened his eyes, a faint trace of a smile on his lips.
Celestia smiled at her nephew, and said, "There we are."
His ears perked up as the announcer at the door said something that caught his attention. He must have heard wrong, surely. There was no way he'd just said that.
He looked at the large double door that led into the courtyard, and his jaw dropped.
He couldn't believe what he was looking at.
Her ghostly blue irises were hidden behind her eyelids once as she blinked while slinking across the room to him. Her dress wasn't especially distracting, or glamorous, or distinguished, but he knew what he was looking at. There was no way that wasn't her.
Her leafy green coat worked well with the ocean blue dress she'd chosen, and her poofy green mane was well combed and brushed for The Gala.
And then, something odd happened.
Was he seeing things? That couldn't be right.
Her irises had turned green, he could have sworn, for just a moment.
Instantly, she recognized the change in his expression, the words he was about to utter in warning to the surrounding ponies.
Before he could speak her name aloud, or she could raise her hoof to knock him out, a burst of pink light landed on her left shoulder.
The disguises fell apart, both that of the prince, and the mare in front of him.
Nightsong struggled to lift his head, move his wings, and even to speak. He could open his eyes though, and that was enough.
A cold, black, lifeless form lay directly in front of him, riddled with holes, familiarly crooked and wicked.
And, standing above the fallen queen, was the changeling he so much admired.
Sweet Tooth's voice was raspy and rough, like sandpaper across the face, as she said, "Queen Chrysalis, for continued assaults and impersonations of the royal family, forced conversions, and hundreds of cases of murder, you are under arrest." The clicking of hoofcuffs finalized her statement as the queen grumbled in her nearly comatose state.
The mare looked over her shoulder at the fallen prince, and, smoothing out her voice a bit, said, "That puts us at eighty one to sixty four, though I'll give up half a point for shooting you."
Nightsong's smile came back.
"And then another quarter for using you as bait without your knowledge," she added, levitating the unconscious queen onto her back.
He would have laughed if he'd had the energy, but he had just been caught in the blast of a sleep spell, and he really had a more pressing thing to say.
"I'll forgive you that..." He had to pause so he could breathe. "...but you'd better show up to my next dinner party," he told her.
She smiled back at him, and said, "I'll ask Agent Sweetie Drops for a day off."
Celestia tapped her nephew's shoulder with the tip of her horn, and his body's strength returned. She pulled him up with her hoof, and dusted him off.
He glanced at the dozens of holes in his legs that showed beneath his suit, and the holes in his wings. He was more than a little aware of the weird looks he was getting thanks to his real eyes, though, they could have been directed at his fangs.
He burst into flame, returning to his more presentable form.
Sweet Tooth stopped in her tracks, and whipped her head around to face him. Her expression changed a dozen times in the span of a few seconds, but settled upon the look of just barely tolerating what she saw. "Y'know... I can understand why you cover the holes, but if they don't like your eyes, that's their loss."
He stood still for a moment, then blinked, allowing his eyes to revert to their natural form.
Sweet Tooth smiled, then completed her departure.
He couldn't have dispelled his smile if he tried.
Celestia leaned towards her nephew, and whispered into his ear, "Since when do you throw dinner parties?"
"Since Chrysanthemum turned you into a rampaging lust monger," he muttered.
The princess's ears stood on end, and she bit her lip as she reflected upon that fateful day. She had spent her time since that day trying to reconcile Molestia within herself, so that another lust spell wouldn't just loose the monster upon the castle staff as it had on that particular day of which nopony spoke.
Nightsong chuckled, then looked on at the startled ponies attending The Gala, and cleared his throat. After a moment, he declared, "Let us rejoice in victory and splendor! Praise the Goddess above, for Queen Chrysalis has fallen! Honor the memories of those who have fallen to bring us such justice! Let it be known that Chrysanthemum and my father have not died in vain!"
And, though there was cider enough for all and more, he couldn't quite find it in himself to drink. He couldn't understand why, but he didn't feel more fulfilled for Chrysalis's arrest. He had lived in fear of her for much of his life, and he had suffered so much by her will, but he was not happy.
Well, he was happy, but for a very different reason.
He watched as the aging element bearers and their friends enjoyed the pleasures of the world; laughter, enthusiasm, and friendship. He could at least indulge in the wonders of his mother's domain, and so, dismissed himself to the gardens for a spell.
He still had his problems, his flaws, his burdens, but he could put them down to delight in that which was simple, uncomplicated, and innocent, such as the flowers and apples of the gardens.
He found himself eyeing the rosebushes, especially the ones colored black by Discord's magic, a more personally symbolic object to him and Sweet Tooth. He lifted one of the flowers with pad of his hoof, and lowered his nose to draw in its scent. His mind wandered back to the day of many events, and the prophetic poem Discord had given them.
He could still remember the one sentence he and Sweet Tooth had been most unnerved by. "No matter how you see things, the thoughts of love aren't alike." He could remember the look on Sweet Tooth's face after they'd fulfilled every other part of the prophecy, one of looming dread, a fear they'd never come around to addressing.
After a while, they'd just assumed that it wasn't important, and moved on.
Maybe they'd discuss it during that dinner party, or maybe they wouldn't. He didn't really feel like spoiling their first good conversation in so many years with the past.
His ears panned back to focus on the gentle sound of metal hitting the cobblestone path behind him, and, while his first assumption was that his mother had woken up to speak with him, the sounds of awkwardly large wings beating against crystalline fur prompted him to say, "Good evening, Princess Flurry Heart."
The crystal princess stepped towards him, her glimmering feathers tapping against one another with the sound of wind chimes, and he only turned his head when her soft voice came in the form of a long, heavy sigh. She said, "Can't we ever get past the formalities?"
He chuckled, and shook his head against his pseudo-niece's forehead, nuzzling his nose into her bejeweled mane. "I wish, Flurry," he told her, and draped his left wing over her back. "How's your first time handling the reigns going?"
She groaned, rolling her eyes, and said, "I'm only here because my parents decided that I need an heir, and Jade Mint isn't a stallion, so they've conceded to give me a sibling instead."
Nightsong cocked his eyebrows at this, and lifted his head back up. He stepped in front of Flurry Heart, and looked down at the smaller alicorn's emerald green eyes. He said, "Cadance and I both know that there are more than a dozen spe-"
"-Have you forgotten about my unusual biology, or are you just being modest?" she asked him, squinting at his brown eyes, her pupils darting from side to side as she focused on each of his four pupils in turn.
He shook his head, closing his eyes, and said, "I'm assuming that your partner is aware of it as well."
She blushed, and lifted her left forehoof to take a step back.
"Ah," he nodded, opening his eyes. "I'm not gonna tell you how to manage your relationship, or that you're a screwup for not telling her, but I will say that, if you really love this mare, and she really loves you, she'll learn in due time."
She nodded, and said, "Thanks for that."
He smiled warmly, and said, "The fact that I lost my virginity to a love spell has no bearing on your personal life."
Her face scrunched up, and her voice took on a fiercely defensive tone. "Why are you bringing it up then?" she demanded him.
He didn't waver in his calm, collected demeanor, and said, "I know that you know that, but I wasn't sure that you've internalized that message. I'd rather not be held accountable for any rash decisions you might make as a result of using me as your role model, because I'm a terrible one anyway."
She relaxed, and said, "You're not a terrible anything."
"I'm a terrible example of why alicorns shouldn't rape each other's spouses, because it could ultimately lead to someone getting arrested after dozens of cases of child abuse and murder," he shot back.
Flurry couldn't exactly counter this.
He chuckled, and opened his forelegs. "Hugs," he said, and opened his eyes just in time for Flurry Heart to tackle him to the ground. They rolled over a few times, then laughed together for a few seconds.
Nightsong wrapped his wings around her, and smiled. It was moments like this that reminded him why he got out of bed every evening. He wasn't one for parties, he didn't appreciate the paperwork, he'd been given a rough start, and he despised the fact that he had to take a federal job, but he couldn't have asked for a better family.
Even if his early life had been a mess, he'd been gifted with a family kind and supportive enough to keep him going.
Author's Note
Alicorn OC haters, deal with it. If you call Nightsong a Gary Stu, I'll know that you didn't bother to read the whole story. Its main focus is his internal conflict, and anger. He's less of a Gary/Mary S(t)u(e) than Cadance.
Also, here are his Mary-Sue Test results.
If you wanna make some real critique, I'll listen, but otherwise, you'd be wasting your time.
For your convenience, I've composed a list;
The pacing is terrible.
You're probably more invested in the familial (or romantic) *eyebrow twitch* relationship between Flurry Heart and Nighstong than his sister/lover interactions with Sweet Tooth.
Most of the first half of this story is exposition about what a screwup the main character's life has been.
You probably want me to publish a story about the day Molestia, Chrysanthemum, Discord's poem, and the love spell I kept referring to happened.
Come at me, bro...ny. I'm aware of these flaws, but my ears are open to suggestions.
Just because this is an exercise in my skill in writing, and a new style, does not mean I won't improve in the future.