Guard Over Me
I can still feel you there beside me, after all this time, just like you said.
Rain.
That’s what was peppering his face. Cold, gentle rain coated the wisps of his fur that whipped in the wind, blown like tiny diamonds falling over Equestria. But everything felt cold, from the matted mane under his helm, to the polished armor covering his bruised back, and the spear protruding from his breastplate. Everything was a pleasantly cold numbness.
It’s so quiet. Why is everything so quiet, he wondered as he lay in the damp grass, face turned upward to the midnight sky. Stars and moon above were obscured by the rain clouds that had rolled in, a curtain that had been pulled over the entire sky, extinguishing the light.
From out the dusk, shadowy figures charged the castle, his brothers and sisters at arms around him caught in the fray of battle. Even the Day Watch with their golden armor fought beside them, roused from the barracks by the surprise attack. This was nice, to see them side by side, day and night, together as one.
With the grace of exotic performers from faraway lands, they danced around the enemy, thrusting and jabbing at any opportunity for a strike that presented itself. To watch them leap and twirl brought a twinkle to his old orange eyes, vision still sharp as a tack that could pierce even the darkest of nights. Never did it cease to bring a smile to his face to see such a rhythmic dance of battle.
Each tribe of the Day Watch carried traditional and sacred weaponry. Unicorns twirled lances with their powerful magic, while earth charged with heavy halberds. Pegasi cut through the air, swiping their razor-sharp cutlasses with deadly aerial precision.
But the Night Guard, they fought close and personal. Leaping off the walls on leathery wings, they plunged into the enemy, slashing and hacking with clawed armor strapped to their hooves. They were quick, efficient, each leap and dive carefully calculated.
Fire, streaking through the nighttime sky, hurled from the castle parapets. Down it crashed upon the hillside, spreading rivers of hungry flames. From beyond the Everfree, the attackers still charged, undeterred by the raining fury. Many from both sides would be lost before the sun rose over the distant mountain peak, a constant guardian of the eastern horizon.
He had been on the wall when it had happened, scouting the treeline as was his nighttime duty. How they had seen him, he would never know. While the Royal Guard stood out with their polished golden armor, proudly presented for the public to see, the Night Guard was a much different affair. Though excellent at their duty still, the Royal Guard were meant to be public figures, a discouragement for any threats. But the Night Guard made it every effort to not be seen, to observe from the shadows.
When his bat-like hearing had picked up the distant rustling from the tree line, it was already too late. He could still hear the whoosh of air before the spear pierced his plating, sending him spinning off the wall. The crack from his upper back when he hit the ground had immediately erased the pain, lulled him into a soft calm as he watched the battle rage on.
Guards ran through the gates, screaming valiant battle-cries that fell on his ears, but he could only hear the soft pattering of rain. The clash of steel on steel was no more than a dull clatter in the background.
How beautiful it is, the rain, he told himself. It coats everything, making it glisten with polished craftsmanship from the blades of grass to the wrought iron gates. Somepony should probably close those.
Pooling around him, a small puddle of crimson rain stained the dirt underneath, wafting faint tendrils of steam around his cold armor. But all he felt was cold. And tired.
They will do fine, my brothers and sisters. Surely I can rest my eyes until the battle is over.
With drooping eyelid, his breathing weakened until it was nothing but short faltering rasps, his lungs struggling for each taste of air. The cold he could feel no more, just a pleasant warmth that washed over his tired bones.
Like a spirit rising from ethereal planes, a set of scrubby blue hooves, wet with the rain that spattered down, ran into view.
Now what are you doing here, he asked with modest chide tone. Shouldn’t you be in bed by now young filly? Haven’t we talked about staying us so late? A princess needs her sleep.
She knelt beside him, droplets of water running down her face, though if they were tears or rain, he did not know. She clutched his hoof, shaking him hard and moving her mouth with unheard words falling upon his ears. Only the tap-tap of rain.
There, there. Don’t be upset now, he tried to console her. Don’t you worry about silly old me. He reached up clutching her head with a lavender shod hoof. Desperately she grabbed it, holding it against her, eyes squeezed shut as she trembled.
You should really get back inside. Go find your sister, little one. She will make sure you’re safe.
But release him, she would not, remaining by his side while more shadows poured out the forest. You always have been a stubborn little filly, haven’t you? Ever since the day I first met you all those years ago…
His vision faltered, the vertical slits of his luminous eyes stretching wide. Everything before him was changing, morphing. Shadows of the night melted away, a brightness from beyond his vision filling his eyes, causing him to squint against the light.
He found himself in a foal’s room; toys and stuffed animals were strewn about in their haphazard mannerisms. The same familiar numbness still gripped him, but he stood on his own four hooves. Outfitted in his armor, plating polished to a marless shine, he searched high and low, poking and peeking behind dresser and bureau.
And how much younger he was. Gone was the grey in his mane, his crested helm tucked under his foreleg. Wings too; no longer was the membrane between the long wing bones weathered like leather, but unblemished and supple. His spirit was filled with youth, but clouded, without drive or purpose.
Your Highness? More he searched, calling for her, but to no avail. Wherever she was hiding, she refused to come out. Why did they assign me to be a bodyguard? Wasn’t there somepony else more equipped to watch over the royalty?
He was a Night Guard, a seasoned force to be reckoned with. Not a foal sitter and caretaker.
Giving up his search he threw his hooves in the air in defeat. He simply couldn’t find the royal brat anywhere. Placing his helm on the dresser he plopped his rear on the four-post bed, sheets of fine silk hanging off the crescent carved end boards.A gasp and squeak emanated from under the bed, much to his surprise.
Found you, you little— On bended knee he flung back the dressing and peeked under the bed. Crouched underneath, the little filly trembled, hiding her face at the sight of the cat-like orange eyes.
Oh, great. He ran a hoof down his tired face. He recognized that look.
His kind had always gotten sideways glances wherever they went, though it had never bothered him in particular. Even the Royal Guard had been wary at first, but most of them were good ponies. It wasn’t their fault.
But this was not the same. This was a princess, despite her young age, and it reminded him just how different they were from everypony else.
Your Highness, please, come out. You have a busy day scheduled and your tutors won’t be happy if you are late. Yet still, the filly did not move, cowering and shivering. She definitely did not want to confront the strange batish creature before her. Holding his head in his hooves he sat back down on the bed, the springs giving an audible squeak in protest while he massaged his aching temples. He tried to think of how to coax her out, immediately dismissing the idea of dragging her out. Starswirl would have his flank for that.
Forget this, he exclaimed, fed up with the pointless assignment. Hide under there all day for all I care. Starswirl can find himself a new replacement.
As he grabbed his helm and stomped for the door, a horned head poked itself from under the bed.
“Wait. You mean you’re not going to eat me?” she asked, a brow raised high on her innocent face.
What, he asked, scratching his dark mane. It was definitely the strangest thing he had been asked in a while. Why would I eat you?
“Well, cause you have glowing eyes and sharp fangs. Why else would you have them but to eat foals?”
He had to admit that he could not blame the filly. Well, my eyes are like that to help me see well in the dark.
“That’s kinda cool I guess,” she commented, slightly less wary. But she remained under her bed, quietly sizing up the bat pony. Would he gobble her up? “And the fangs?” she wondered.
Why does a fruit bat have fangs? Does it eat ponies?
“No,” she admitted. “They just do.”
So there’s your answer. We just do, he huffed impatiently. Now can we please get you to your studies your Highness? Starswirl will be very unhappy if you are late.
Holding the door, he motioned for her to follow. Finally relenting, the young princess caved and removed herself apprehensively from her bed fort.
But she never reached him. The memory melted away, for when he turned around, no longer was he in the toy-littered room.
Years flashed across his vision, a stream of reflections bombarding his senses with days past. One moment, a cool night woken by the calls for just one more glass of water. The next, him bandaging a scraped knee, shushing the little crying alicorn as he clipped the dressing taut. Another, the smell of fresh baked cookies shared around a roaring winter fire burning in a stoney hearth.
They shifted and settled, these recollections. He reached out toward them, stretching his foreleg, desperate to latch on. He tried to grasp on to them, to relieve them all, even for a brief moment. But something pulled him, whatever unseen force, until he settled on a special memory in particular.
He slipped himself in the same room, a bright new moon pouring like a waterfall through the window as an oil lamp glowed a soft orange on her bedstand. How little she had aged, the young princess, though the years had collected their own toll from him. Silver filaments of hair were sprinkled through his mane, the wrinkles etched across his forehead formed from a small grin. He produced from behind his back a small wrapped package. It was a special occasion, after all.
Got this made for you, he offered, sitting on the edge of her bed. Congrats, kiddo.
With a solemn and devoid expression, she opened the gift, pulling out a black sash beautifully embroidered with a pearly white crescent moon. Just like her new cutie mark.
However, the picture painted on her face could tell him something was wrong—the usually bubbly filly hardly having uttered a word since she got her mark.
What’s the matter, Lu-lu, he sighed, scooching closer and wrapping a wing around her.
“Nothing,” she lied, with great exasperation.
Come on now, he said, raising her face with a hoof, the sash still clutched on her lap. You know you can’t lie to me. What’s eating you up?
Throwing the gift down with a huff, she covered her face with her forelegs, knees pulled tight against her belly. “Why do I have to rule the night,” she sobbed, her voice muffled as she lay curled in a ball. “Tia gets the day, and I’m stuck with the night. Why is everything so unfair?”
I know it’s not what you wanted, but we all have our roles to play in life, he told her, wrapping an arm around her and comforting the crying filly. Besides, what is so bad about the night? I think you will make a great ruler of the moon.
Without looking up, her voice cracked with the blinding tears that soaked her fur. “Everypony loves the day and the sun. It’s bright and cheery and everypony is happy and safe. But who loves the night?” She answered on her own. “Nopony is who, it’s dark and empty with everypony asleep.”
With gentle care, he uncurled the weeping foal from her tear-stained ball, pulling the covers tight. On bended knee he knelt, his orange eyes locked on her reddened gaze. Oh, Lu-lu. You still have much to learn kiddo. When my family first moved around the likes of other ponies, when I was a colt, I thought the same thing.
With a tender hoof, he wiped away the tear rolling down her cheek, but she kept her eyes squeezed tight. Since I was born I had lived and played with my kind, along with the children of our colony, under the light of the moon and stars, he told her softly.
But when we left, I wondered why the other foals in this strange new land of Equestria shunned the dark and only came out in the daylight. It made me ashamed of who I was, seen as a monster or freak of nature. It wasn’t until later that I grew out of my foalish ways and saw the world for what it really is.
Standing up, he retrieved the crescent moon sash and laid it gently atop her covers, the young ruler still wordlessly weeping under her bedsheets. One day you’ll learn too, Luna. Such beautiful and wonderful things happen in the night.
Through the door once more he passed, the memory fading as fast as it had materialized. He was falling now, being pulled back into reality from the depths of his waking mind. More visions whizzed past as he fell, of leaf-choked falls, and winter snowball fights. Springtime new and fresh and a cobalt filly frolicking under moonlit, flowered meadows. Summer, atop the castle wall showing a wide-eyed girl the heavens and the stars above. See the constellation just above the treeline of the Everfree? That’s Ursa Minor. And to the East and higher, Ursa Major, “The Great Bear”. Down further and further and further, the moment snatched away before he could latch on.
Now it was fall, the castle courtyard bathed in amber, lit by the harvest moon. And a filly practicing, horn aglow, with all the powerful magic she had to set it on its nightly path. That was really good. Much smoother than last night.
Winter sprung as autumn withered, fresh snow blanketing the castle grounds, and an impressive snow-built fortress dominating the path up from the Everfree. I bet this fortress could hold off the most fearsome of hydras that dare come this way, your Highness.
And then everything faded, no longer falling, the familiar cold numbness gripping his tired bones. Eyes that had seen many a year were dimming, the orange glow seeping out slowly.
She was there, above him, while around her the guards fended off the advancing invaders. She knew. Her face alone told him that, the rain having slowed, leaving her a soaking mess. She held his hoof, struggling to pull him up, begging, but he could not hear her pleas.
Don’t fret now, Lu-lu. Starswirl and your big sister will look after you now. They love you so much.
He did not have long now. His upturned head lay in pooling mud, the misting drizzle that sprinkled down cleansing the mud from his coat and armor.
I’ll still be here, don’t you fret. Watching out the shadows in the night. You may not see me, but I’ll be there. Always remember such beautiful things happen in the night…
Luna closed the door to her balcony, trotting inside out the chilling breeze that swept off the starlit mountain of Canterlot. It was late autumn, the bright alabaster moon set on its nightly path once again as it had done for thousands of years.
With a heavy heart, she began her night, alone, with no comfort in her work. A thousand years imprisoned on the moon had stripped her of tendencies of malevolence, something she was very glad of, but nothing could stop her from feeling the loneliness that came with ruling the night. For this was their duties in life, her and Celestia, each delegated to their own heavenly body, theirs to guide and protect. A bodyguard perhaps.
Luna ambled around her bedroom, pausing by many a memento that lined and decorated the shelves. This was a place prepared for her by a sister, awaiting the eventual return of the one she had sent away. Treasures both big and small had made the journey here, through thick Everfree and treacherous mountain path from the place she grew up in.
A pity the Castle of the Two Sisters lay in ruin, made even worse by the fact a good portion of its destruction was her own doing. A place overgrown and overtaken by the land upon which it had been built.
She remembered the first time she had gone back to that place since her celebrated return, on a night much like tonight. With no trouble she had found it, the one thing she had traveled to see once more after so long, tucked away behind the west wall underneath a towering willow. And underneath it, behind creeping cluster and encroaching vine, a small figurine, hardly larger than Twilight’s faithful assistant. A pony with bat’s wings and tiny but sharp canines that protruded from a warm grin upon his stony face. The centuries had weathered the statue, but the eyes were still as sharp as the day of the ceremony when she placed it on top the mound of fresh dirt. Even now she could still remember the way they had glowed, two orange balls of light peering through the darkness and the shadows.
Luna stopped pacing her bedchamber, pausing below a set of armor hanging from the wall. It was polished and beautifully maintained, save for a rough hole in the breastplate. A purple helm with spiked and webbed crest rested on the dresser beside a framed photograph, a magical item, an image from another time captured on glossy parchment.
With a weary smile, she picked it up, gently stroking the glass that covered the picture.
Such beautiful things happen in the night… Words she recalled, a lesson taught by a pony, yet a figure of greater importance.
“Thanks for being there for me. For everything, Dad.”
