Salvation | Rebirth

Wild didn’t know how much time he spent just sitting there, breathing. In, out, then in, then out again. Rhythmically. Calmly. One after another, a thing to ground him, to keep the reality around him real while keeping his memories at bay, making sure that they stayed just that, memories, and not become his reality again.

He wondered how long had that changeling have to survive for, all alone and by themselves. Was it as long as he had? The time that had passed since the Changeling Invasion... how many weeks? He wasn’t sure. Maybe even a whole month? Then the answer was that he had spent longer. Even then, he wasn’t sure. Days blurred into a slurry of light and dark, and the sleep he had was not restful. Time had seemed to both stretch and shrink, losing all meaning yet gaining a new one all the same. The time between meals, between shelters, between relative safety and danger. Had it been like that for the changeling?

Wild knew what it was to grow up with the fear that his real self could be killed, though he had stayed so hidden no one knew or probably even suspected he was gay. Perhaps he was making a mountain out of a molehill, considering that the threat of death wasn’t really all that pronounced, and he could easily go out. He just couldn’t be... fully himself. A restriction that he still had even now, even though it was now different in form. The changeling, however, had to fear literal branding, and threats of deaths were, he imagined, not uncommon. And if Wild didn’t intervene when the changeling was being beaten... would that unicorn who beat them have stopped eventually? There was not really any way to know.

Wild suddenly realized that he might have saved a life there. He imagined plenty would argue that he should not have. After all, weren’t changelings enemies? He knew they were not, had met a changeling who wasn’t, but that wasn’t true for everyone. He didn’t know what kind of experience everyone in Canterlot went through during the changeling invasion, but it likely wasn’t pretty. He was aware that no one had died or was even seriously injured, at least unless his own mental injuries and subsequent recovery counted, but it would not have, could not have been easy for them to see their homes invaded, for the city where they thought themselves safe to become unsafe...

Wild wanted to shake his head, but there was no shaking off the mess that were his jumbled thoughts. He wanted to laugh - this trip to Canterlot had turned to be more exciting - if that was even the right word - than he expected or, in truth, wanted. But then, it appeared his new life was full of that excitement, of that... anxious anticipation of the next thing to go wrong. Perhaps such was the price for him to live in a world that was better than the previous one. Besides, it wasn’t like he wasn’t getting anything positive out of those events... at least so far.

“Wild? You alright?”

Wild refocused on the present and turned to Artful, who was sitting by his side, a silent pillar of support.

“...No,” Wild replied after some thinking. He was not alright. His body, for a reason he couldn’t understand, felt as if he ran a marathon. The day was not yet at the end, and yet he wanted to get some sleep already, to move on to the next day. He opened his mouth to add something more, but he found that he couldn’t figure out what it could be. Could he say that he would be alright? He, obviously, didn’t know that, and he didn’t feel like lying to Artful.

Would he be alright? For a given definition of ‘alright’, perhaps. He had managed to weather everything that had come his way this far... if not perfectly. His life, he knew, would never be perfect. However, he would live, and, most importantly, he wanted to live. He hadn’t felt the need to... cease his own existence, in a long while now, perhaps. Aside from the fact that there was no guarantee that he could even die in the first place, he did want to live, to experience more things, to build a brighter future for himself than he thought possible before.

If he could come back from the dead, technically twice now, and live a better life than before, then he could stomach having a reminder of his worst part of life show up out of nowhere in a city that in no way resembled the one he was forced to survive in. What was one reminder among many possible others? It was, after all, far better than those ancient predictions of his current life still sitting there for all to see in the Royal Art Gallery. A part of him felt the urge to grab a sledgehammer and apply it to that particular exhibit, although he didn’t exactly need a sledgehammer for that. However, it would perhaps prove to be cathartic. He could also use magic on it, to make it explode or tear apart or a great many other things. However, doing any of that would essentially mean outing himself, and he had a feeling that neither Princess Celestia nor Princess Luna would appreciate him destroying priceless ancient art, as maddening as that art was, as... disturbing as it truly was. Perhaps he would talk Luna into at least putting it away somewhere. He had no desire to see it again, and he didn’t want anyone else to see it. At least Luna already knew plenty enough about him. Perhaps he would see whether she cared about him enough to make sure that this thing was gone. He had a life, and it was no one’s but his own. It certainly did not belong to some ancient lunatic who made it into scribbles on a wall.

Wild closed his eyes, breathed in, breathed out, breathed in again, breathed out once more, and repeated it until things had begun to settle. He felt Artful doing an impression of someone’s hand making soothing circles on his back, but with one of his wings instead. And it was indeed soothing, and he had found himself calming down despite everything that he felt but didn’t want to feel or even address.

He was tired and he longed for a bed and a long rest. If Artful agreed, the two would then sleep together - he could use something like this. Though, relying on Artful for this was... perhaps unhealthy? Unfair to Artful? After all, Artful was his own person, not a pillow for Wild to cry into. However, Artful was with him so far, hadn’t abandoned him like, perhaps, Wild had still expected deep inside his mind where all suspicions and negative expectations went.

He didn’t notice when it was exactly that Princess Celestia walked into the room, but her appearance was unmistakable once she was in front of him, radiant like the princess she presented herself to be, and, perhaps, the princess that she actually was. Some residual fear arose inside Wild, but it was easy for him to suppress it.

“Hello, Wild, Artful,” she greeted them both with an easy nod. While Artful was gaping at her, perhaps stuck somewhere between wanting to bow to her and yet unwilling to separate himself from Wild, Wild himself had no issues with simply looking at her, not moving from where he was sitting, “I’d like to hear what happened.”

Artful’s brain was still not quite ready, awed at the princess as he was, so it was up to Wild to do his best to explain what had happened. And so, he told the story of how he found the changeling, how he moved to protect them, and how he then transported them to the Canterlot Castle. He even remembered to explain that the closest hospital was further away and likely unsafe for a changeling.

“Sound reasoning,” Princess Celestia nodded in acceptance, “Unfortunately, even my influence can’t step despicable behavior some see fit to aim at the changelings,” it was then that her perfect face was marred by a frown, “Can you describe the one who injured the changeling? The changeling, while not in a critical condition, suffers from multiple broken bones and would have likely died had they been left out on the streets after that beating. What happened is unacceptable, and I will deal with it.”

“...Red,” Wild replied, “They were unicorn with red fur. I think mane was black? Black or dark brown,” he furrowed his brows, trying to remember more details from the blur of those long moments, “They were wearing an apron.”

“I can point at the map where it happened,” Artful finally chimed in. Then he proceeded to do just so when Princess Celestia sat down next to him.

“I see,” she said after she got the location, “Thank you for your assistance, my little ponies.”

Wild did not really like being addressed that way, but he had a vague recollection of her addressing everyone like that. Was it from personal experience? He didn’t think so, as she had, to his memory - which was, admittedly, not the best - never called him that way when she talked to him directly. She glanced at him - perhaps he had displayed something that showed his discomfort. However, she didn’t offer anything, certainly not an apology - not that Wild needed it. He could tolerate something like this, it was honestly nothing, not important.

“Is there anything I can do for you? You two have saved a life today,” she asked them.

Wild, honestly, just wanted to go home. However, speaking about it outright wasn’t something he wanted to do. Besides, he could probably spend some more time in the city, even if his interest was, at least for this day in particular, gone.

However.

Princess Celestia was, if anything, trustworthy. She had hurt him, yes, but not out of malice. She had apologized for her actions and explained them, and Wild accepted the explanations, accepted why she had done what she had, could not disagree with the reasons. He still remembered when she told him she owed him. Perhaps it was time to do something about it, as late as it probably was. Of course, he was already monetarily compensated, but... Still, it was worth a try.

“Today, Artful and I visited the Royal Art Gallery,” Wild started. Celestia blinked at him, mostly in confusion as to how it was relevant to anything. He, however, continued, “There, we saw the... the display, of the... Yirda the Mad?”

“Yrdai the Mad,” Princess Celestia nodded. Something like understanding started forming in her head.

“I saw myself in it,” Wild said. Then he went silent, waiting for Princess Celestia to fill in the blanks by herself, on her own. It didn’t take her long, and it appeared she could guess where he was going.

“If you want it taken down, it cannot happen,” she shook her head, “It would attraction I imagine you don’t want. There is the option of modifying it, to erase your presence from it. However, as it had been extensively documented over the years, as well as replicated multiple times for study in different parts of the world, it would also be noticed very quickly. I’m sorry, but the best that can be done is hiding the connection between you and the Yrdai display,” her eyes went to Artful, “I suppose you have told about this connection to your friend?”

“...my colt-friend,” Wild softly corrected. Let the ruler of the nation know his relationship status, because why not? If he were to one day, perhaps, marry Artful - as distant as that obviously was - he needed to be a bit more open about his relationship.

Celestia’s expression adopted a small smile, but for all that it was the only change in her outward appearance, she was positively beaming at him mentally. He blushed and averted his eyes, unsure of what to say if anything, feeling awkward about Celestia feeling joy about him. The ruler of the nation, feeling joy about him. Perhaps Yrdai being mad was just a given for the kind of world Wild was living in now.

For a fleeting moment, Wild wondered whether Celestia could do something if he said that Artful wasn’t supposed to know. Would she... erase it from his mind? Now that was an awful thought.

...could Wild learn it to potentially erase everything about himself and disappear if he needed to?

He ruthlessly pushed that disgusting thought away. He would never do something like that to any of his friends, and he would certainly never even consider doing it to Artful. The very thought made him feel nauseous. Thankfully, he managed to bury it all before it showed outwardly.

“Your coltfriend,” Celestia nodded, “Is there anyone else who knows or, perhaps, suspects?”

“Princess Luna,” Wild said, “My... therapist Doctor Fay. No one suspects, I think. But... my form, my... spirit... was seen by the... Ghostbusters,” and wasn’t it just fantastic that Ghostbusters were an actual real thing in Equestria? He didn’t know whether this made him hate the fact that his old world was relatively strongly connected to the new one more or less, “And... two more, I think?”

“They may make the connection or they may not,” Celestia said, “Did you reveal your name to them?”

“No,” Wild shook his head, “They did not see my body too.”

“Then perhaps there is little you should worry about,” Celestia nodded, “However, I’ll notify you if someone shows a special interest in the part of Yrdai’s Future where you are depicted. For that matter, what is it that depicts you?”

Wild described the best he could, but Celestia would definitely recognize it either way once he looked. His form was particularly... distinctive. However, he didn’t know whether she knew about how he got his talent mark - or, at least, he didn’t remember. He decided it would be safest not to tell, just in case. If Celestia knew and hadn’t done anything to him about it, then good. If she didn’t know, there was no reason for him to tell her. After all, he had torn the Nightmare apart, killed them, and, in a way, absorbed whatever remained. There was no need for Celestia to know about that detail in particular.

“Very well, I will look into how to safeguard your privacy and your safety,” Princess Celestia nodded, “While I cannot guarantee that no one will make the connection between you and Yrdai’s Future depiction of you, the best you can do is not to discuss it, not to show your talent to those you do not trust, and not reveal your past experiences,” she turned to Artful then, “Artful, it would do good for you to do the same. Wild had put great trust in you - it would be best if his trust was not misplaced.”

Wild’s eyes wondered. Was Celestia... being protective of him, to Artful? It appeared the day had just gotten even weirder than before. It wasn’t like he needed Celestia’s protection against Artful, certainly not when Artful didn’t seem to have any true malicious or traitorous bone in his body, but the gesture was still... somewhat appreciated, on some level. Princess Celestia was certainly not joking around, and she meant every word she said. That had to count for something.

Some more words were exchanged, but Wild had tuned most of it out, and soon enough he and Artful could leave the castle. The changeling would recover, although whether they chose to contact Wild or Artful later down the line was unknown. Wild did not expect nor need thanks for the rescue, and Artful seemed to be of the same mind.

Once Wild and Artful were halfway to the gates to the castle, where no one was around as far as Wild could tell, he stopped and turned to Artful.

“I am ready to go home,” he admitted, his body slumping slightly, tension disappearing as he let out a tired sigh.

“Yeah,” Artful gave a nod in response, “Honestly? Me too. Far too much excitement for a single day, right?”

“It was not all bad,” Wild gave a small amount of protest. After all, he had ended up having some good time with Artful, as relatively short as it was. It wouldn't do to give him the impression that Wild did not enjoy any part of this day at all, “But... yes.”

“Can’t blame you,” Artful said, “So yeah, let’s go. Let’s hope others will be heading back now too so we can all get home soon.”

The two left the castle and emerged back into the city proper. Once more, they devised a path that would lead them around the most crowded and populated areas. After everything that had happened, Wild had no desire to suffer a headache in addition to it all. There were far too many people around, and Wild couldn't wait until he was back at the Royal Orphanage where the amount of people was manageable and mostly unnoticeable. His desire to live outside of cities solidified even further.

Wild and Artful turned to the side streets instead of going along the major routes, one of which would have taken them straight from the castle grounds to the Canterlot Central Train Station. While taking the long way around would also prolong their stay, they had no real plan to stop by anything... except maybe something that would provide them with snacks. It definitely wouldn't be amiss to refill themselves with some amount of energy, even if the mental tiredness could not be remedied until the two of them had a chance to sleep.

“...I was wondering,” Wild spoke as they continued on their way, “I... later, I want to nap. Or sleep. Just... rest. And... will you rest with me?”

“Want to cuddle?”

“...Yes.”

Artful gave Wild a nuzzle, and that was all the answer Wild needed.