In the evening, Wild finally returned to his dorm, took a shower, and flopped on his bed. The day had been, surprisingly, not as bad. Artful proved to be a nice distraction from his own anxieties, for which he was grateful. The pegasus was perhaps talking a bit too much, but he didn't attempt to touch Wild in ways other ponies often did, and that was good. From his observations, it was clear ponies loved physical contact. Him? Not so much. Not anymore, at least. Maybe in the future, he would be fine, but he didn't expect his mind to change anytime soon when it came to this.

Thankfully, he didn't linger on those thoughts and, soon enough, he was asleep. He dreamed of paintings, noise like speech yet not, and many familiar halls and corridors. When he woke up, he only remembered the corridors, as if he walked them himself.

He stumbled through his morning routine, feeling more tired than he should've been. Those odd dreams about walking around the corridors of the orphanage - and he recognized them, they were the corridors of the orphanage - spoke to him of something, but he didn't know what it was. It happened more and more frequently, and he wondered what it all meant. He had a feeling he would find out eventually, but it was nevertheless frustrating not to know.

His mind was a bit fuzzy, somewhat unfocused, even after a nice and long shower he took to help himself wake up. Purely on muscle memory, he made his way to the cafeteria, hoping for a refreshing glass of cold mineral water to wake him up fully. A pony almost brushed by him as they passed, and he felt slightly more fuzzy for a moment, a deep yawn escaping his mouth. Maybe he would lie down and rest some more after breakfast.

It took some time, but it wasn't long before his groggy mind recognized the morning buzz of noise coming from the cafeteria, but something made him pause as he passed by a window. He turned his head and looked at Canterlot in the distance, perched on the side of a mountain. A glowing column of dark pink color rose from somewhere within the city, growing in height until it transformed. Slowly, it formed a massive sphere, encasing the entirety of the city. This awoke Wild at once, making him alert and tense. He then continued on his way, quickening his pace, hoping to learn what was going on.

In the cafeteria, there was a corner with newspapers and radio, which he usually ignored. This day, however, he wanted to know, feeling it was important. He walked up to the corner where he grabbed a newspaper, skimmed through it, and saw that it didn't mention anything about a sphere or magical shield or anything of the sort. However, the first page - which he discarded as unimportant at first - clued him in.

ROYAL WEDDING!

Below the headline, there were two photographs: one depicted a pink-coated female alicorn with golden regalia, the other a male unicorn with white fur dressed in a full set of armor.

On the Last Day of Summer, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza is to marry Shining Armor, Captain of the Canterlot Royal Guard.

Another princess? Wild wondered why he hadn't seen her before, at least not around the orphanage. Had he simply missed her somehow? Where did she even come from? He didn't remember reading about her, but then he hadn't listened to modern news before, and books on history that he had read were a few decades out of date. Maybe he wouldn't have been so ignorant if he paid attention to the news now that he could mostly understand them.

He continued reading, glad that the newspaper provided some details about the alicorn: she was an adopted niece of Princess Celestia and became an alicorn at a young age, and that was when she became a princess as well. A few photographs were included, but all of them showed her after she had already become an alicorn. How she became one wasn't listed, however. He wondered what it would take to become an alicorn - he wouldn't particularly mind if he had wings. Flying is something he never really considered before, although he wouldn't trade his horn for a pair of wings. Without his magical hands, he doubted he'd be any good at anything at all.

It was the moment when the radio attracted Wild's attention.

"Just in - a magical shield was raised over the entirety of the city of Canterlot. We are already flooded with questions and concerns from all over the country," the radio host said, "We hope to provide answers, and our reported is on the ground over in Canterlot at this very moment," a click sounded, "Honest Word, you are live right now."

"Thank you, Flash News," another voice, more distorted, spoke from the radio, "My name is Honest Word, speaking from Canterlot, Oval Square, within sight of the Royal Palace. I'm lucky enough to have just come across Captain Shining Armor of the Canterlot Royal Guard. Captain, what can you say to our listeners? Is Canterlot preparing for a siege?"

"I understand why it can be seen as alarming, but there is nothing to worry about," a male voice came through, stoic and calm, "The shield was raised due to security concerns I'm not at liberty to discuss at the moment. However, I can assure everyone that we are safe. The shield is strong, the Royal Guard is ready. No one who may have plans to disturb the peace will be able to come through, and I stand behind this statement one hundred percent. I specialize in magical defense, and I have cast that shield myself."

"Aren't you worried about your wedding?"

"As a future husband, I am worried - it is a very important moment of my life. However, my bride has taken the brunt of wedding preparations, and I can assure you - she will not let this wedding be anything but perfect, security concerns or not."

Wild listened for some more, but that was essentially it. 'Security concerns' didn't exactly provide much information, but it did leave him worried - a shield of such size, undoubtedly, required much power to be cast, and it enveloped the entire city, meaning that the possible danger was more than just a disruption. Just what he needed - another thing to worry about. Was Equestria currently at war with anyone? It could be true, but he hadn't heard anything about it. Now he cursed his lack of foresight - from then on, he would pay close attention to the news, just so that he wouldn't be caught off-guard about whatever was going on in Equestria or in the larger world.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. The radio provided some context, but it simply repeated that a royal wedding was taking place - no wars or any other international conflicts were mentioned. Not that it meant there were none, of course, but Wild was reasonably sure he would have heard at least something if a war was going on. Such a thing wasn't easy to hide, after all. Though, he had to remind himself of North Korea, which, to the best of his knowledge, had total control over information its citizens were allowed to receive from the outside. He didn't doubt it would manage to hide anything if they so wanted. He hadn't noticed anything that would hint at Equestria being like North Korea, but then would he know for sure?

Wild shook his head. There was a serious lack of military parades, patriotic singing, or any other kind of nationalistic crap that one would expect from an authoritarian, especially totalitarian, nation. To his frustration, however, he didn't know much about politics in the first place. While his parents were alive, getting food on the table and roof over their heads was a priority, and afterwards... he didn't like remembering it.

He grabbed a tray, somewhat forcefully put it down on the counter, and started filling it with breakfast food. He busied his mind with it and, after having took what he wanted to eat, he made his way over to a table closest to the radio and took a seat. If the story about that shield developed further, he would like to know if only to still his unease.

Not much later, he was joined by Precision and Swingblade, which wasn't unusual these days. The two chatted between each other more than they did with him, and that was alright as far as Wild was concerned. Sharing his meals with them, for a reason he couldn't quite understand, made him feel a bit better.

"My legs are still sore," Swingblade complained, "Why do I even need to train them? I've wings!"

"Well, if you fight this guy here," Precision nodded to Wild, "You'd have problems."

"Yeah, but Wild's, like, the best of the best. Rainbow Dash did just fine with her wings before he beat her, didn't she?"

"You're not as fast as her, though."

"I'd need my wings, not my legs, to beat her."

"Wild beat her with his legs, you gotta notice that. And you're not gonna get into international tournaments if you don't train properly."

Swingblade groaned but acquiesced without further arguing. The tournament has proven to him that he wasn't nearly as good as he thought he was, and his ego received a thorough kick back to reality. Despite that, however, he still complained quite often, reluctant to let go of erroneous thoughts. He continued to lose to both Precision and Wild but, within the club, he still remained the third best sword fighter. He intensified his training, sometimes to his own detriment, as he didn't quite know the best way to train as well as to recover afterwards. He pushed himself further than he was used to, and he was paying the price physically and mentally. It was clear he would eventually crumble if he didn't put more thought into his own training.

"Say, Wild, how come you're never sore after training?" he asked.

Wild shrugged. In truth, he did get sore, but he recovered quite quickly. He had also long since found the right balance between training and recovery so that he would neither undertrain nor overtrain. He exerted himself just the right amount to still have energy the next day and function normally. Sometimes, he tended towards overtraining, but he usually noticed it and dialed his efforts down before he hurt himself.

To properly explain it all to Swingblade, well, he didn't know how to do it. Signing with his body was still awkward, and he understood the language far better than he could gesture it. To explain the fine line between training enough and training too much, he didn't have the vocabulary for.

"He's just not being dumb," Precision answered for him, teasing, "Maybe if you picked up more books on martial arts and not porn, you'd know."

"And if you got more porn, maybe you wouldn't have a big stick right up your ass."

"Any stick up my ass is wholly intentional, I assure you. Dickhead."

"Cunt."

"Virgin."

"Not after I did... after I did uh..." a thoughtful frown appeared on his head.

"No comeback, huh? Just like that?" Precision grinned.

They continued to bicker, Wild listening with only half his ear. He remembered when he used to spew hate as easily as he was silent now. Many people have been insulted by him in a variety of ways, both creative and crude. And while Precision and Swingblade were still friends - somehow - despite their frequent disagreements, Wild had been cruel in his insults, trying to dig under people's skin, to really hurt. He remembered how he enjoyed making people angry, thinking how above all of them he was. He had caused a number of fights, in which he fought as best as he could.

He was immature, rage-filled, and childish, he recognized it now. He lashed out at people because it made him feel like he was in control, like at least one thing was still in his power to do.

He had learned better since then.

"Uh, hey, may I sit?" he heard the familiar voice of Artful. He turned to him, thought for a bit, then nodded, "Alright, thanks."

"Oh hi, I remember seeing you yesterday with Wild," Swingblade said, smirking, "You're his boyfriend or something?"

Artful blushed deep crimson, and Wild fidgeted in his seat, the feeling of unease growing the further the conversation progressed.

"If he is, at least he has a partner. You still don't," Precision pointed out, "Virgin."

"Um, no, I'm not his- we just got together in a library, I asked him a couple of things about, you know, swordfighting and stuff."

"Discussing sword lengths?"

Wild quickly finished what remained on his tray, then stood up and left. This sort of conversation isn't what he wanted to think about, let alone hear. Precision and Swingblade exchanged glances - the former annoyed, the latter puzzled.

"You know, I think you should realize that not everyone wants to talk about this stuff," Precision told him, "And Wild's, you know, Wild. Not a touchy-feely kind of person."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess..." Swingblade looked guiltily, "Sorry."

The rest of their meal was spent in awkward silence. Artful hoped to speak with Wild some more, but it appeared the latter wasn't very receptive at the moment, and Artful knew when to give someone space. Perhaps Wild was a private kind of person who didn't like his intimate life broadcast or discussed, and Artful could certainly respect that. He wasn't all that open about it himself, still sometimes feeling self-conscious about his body even though what he had now was what he wanted. Maybe Wild felt about his own body the same way Artful felt about the body he was born with, though there was no real respectful way to ask that he knew of. He brought it up with Princess Celestia by himself when he felt he could do it, and he thought Wild, if he had the same problems, would do it like that as well. He just hoped Wild knew such an option was available to him in the first place.

***

Wild felt embarrassed. He thought that, if he could turn back time, he would have just sat through this. He didn't need to leave, did he? No one else was uncomfortable because of what was being said, only him. And now they knew it made him uncomfortable.

He was back in his dorm, lying on the carpeted floor, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes. Just what was wrong with him? He knew his reaction wasn't normal. It was all just talk, all in good fun. He knew he wasn't perhaps the most observant when it came to people talking about things, but even he knew it was all good-natured teasing. He knew he had gone through enough to grow much thicker skin, so why couldn't he withstand something as simple as this?

He knew the answer, of course. He knew what was wrong. He knew why he was afraid of touch, especially from behind. He knew why he felt nauseous when sex was mentioned. It was because of what happened to him. He shook his head, trying not to bring back those memories.

He was a fool. He couldn't be fixed, not after that. He was so far from being a normal person, how could he ever recover? Tears welled up in his eyes, and he sniffed, trying to force them back. He curled up there on the floor and shut his eyes tight.

The only way for him to be alright would be to forget it all. Wouldn't it be nice, to not know what he knew, to not remember what he went through? Scars would stop being stories he knew and only curiosities he would wonder about from time to time. Regular conversations wouldn't force him to leave. And perhaps he would even speak again.

Perhaps magic could do it, erase him from existence without killing him. It would be right, he thought. No one deserved to be stuck with him, to waste time and effort on him in a futile attempt to fix what was irreparably broken, shattered into a million pieces. What could he ever hope to achieve when he was like this? He would never be normal, what future was there for him?

His eyes stung, his throat felt dry, and he could hardly breathe through his nose without sniffing. He pretended to be strong, yet he knew he was weak. When would this farce end?

For what felt like hours, he simply lay on the floor, quietly crying in the solitude of his dorm. When his swirling toxic thoughts turned into mindless noise inside his head, he finally stood up. He went to the bathroom and, without looking at himself, washed his face. He felt slightly better afterwards, and so he decided to go back out. Hiding wouldn't do him much good anyway.

Without a set destination in mind, he wandered around the orphanage, looking at things without truly seeing them. His legs simply carried him, and he didn't care one bit where he would end up. Simply walking was enough to distract him for the time-being, which was enough for him.

After spending a bit of time outside, which was still damp after last night's rain, he saw Swingblade coming up to him. If he were entirely honest, he didn't want to be around him much, not now.

"Hey, uh, Wild?" Swingblade said, his voice uncertain, "Just wanted to say... I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable with, you know. Dunno why it makes you feel that way, but it's not my business, is it? So yeah, won't do that again when you're around, I promise."

Wild wanted to simply forget the incident and have no one bring it up, but he was still pleasantly surprised by the apology, as awkward as it was. And, in truth, it would be a relief not having to listen to that sort of thing. He nodded.

"Alright, yeah... I'll see you later, I guess," Swingblade offered an awkward goodbye and then walked away, leaving Wild to himself.

***

Some time passed, and it was time for dinner. Wild was ready to face others again, so he went to the cafeteria, grabbed a tray, got some food, and took a seat not far from the radio. A pony sat down to his right without a word or a glance at him and started eating.

"...in just a few short minutes, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and Captain Shining Armor will be married," the radio reported.

Wild listened with half the ear as he ate. For a reason he couldn't discern, he had a vaguely bad feeling about it. He couldn't explain if he tried, but something just wasn't right, and he wasn't sure if it was just his mind being weird again or-

A burst of static came from the radio, lasting for a long couple of seconds, and then Wild heard something that stilled blood in his veins.

"We are... we are under attack! The princess is fake, and the-"

Another burst of static, the another, clearer voice came in.

"Honest Word? Can you hear me? What is going on in there?"

Silence was the answer.

Wild's heart beat thunderously in his chest. He was standing up, unsure of what to do but needing to do something when, suddenly, green light flashed to his right.

He didn't feel himself hitting the floor as his world turned to nothing.

Author's Note

Ooh, am I excited for what comes next! But I won't tell more because it'd spoil things. Speaking of that, it's already available on Boosty - Chapter 29 will be up there in a bit over an hour after this chapter is posted.

Also, Swingblade attempted a "your mom" joke but swiftly realized that it may not be a good idea to do in an orphanage, at least not to Precision.