Author's Note

A heads up for any readers confused as to where the later chapters have gone, I have taken them down as they no longer make sense in the story.

If you want a more in-depth explanation, you can check out my blog post here!

A very special thanks to Celly The Pancake for co-writing this chapter!

11 - Ballroom Brawl

Thunderous, booming footsteps echo out in the massive ballroom. The ambient noise of the spinning vortex acts as a background soundtrack to the bi-pedal intruder emerging into fray. The band on stage has stopped their sonata, and not a soul in sight dares to make a noise, eyes locked intently on the stranger. Four horns erect out of his head, two on the top of his forehead, the others from behind his skull face forwards like ram horns. Bulbous, swollen purple veins sprout across his exposed, pale chest, originating from the Argent cell in his asymmetrical chestplate.

His steps are slow and methodical, armor clunking and rattling as his feet land on the shiny marble underneath. The paint on his ancient Sentinel armor is weathered and worn, metal plating scratched from the countless battles he has fought in. He stands tall, body pointed directly towards you. Within his pale grasp is the handle of a crucible battle-axe, yet to be activated. His eyes glow a bright crimson, as deep as the Argent energy used to power the portal behind him. His gaze is filled with a rage that burns hotter than the core of the sun itself, and it's pointed directly into your soul.

Celestia and yourself never take your gaze off the intruder, watching as he takes his sweet time approaching. He cares not for his surroundings, or the hundreds of living beings around him. His eyes say everything. He wants you, and you alone.

You toss the fork and the plate of cake onto the ground behind you. The chinaware shatters, fork clanking around as it settles on the ground.

Celestia goes to take a step forward, and out of the corner of your eye you can see her start to raise her wings. Instinctively, you place your right hand to her chest, and gently push her back, positioning yourself in front of her.

"Am I interrupting your little tea party, Slayer?" His voice is laced with venom, and he speaks as slowly as he walks, riding out every syllable with pure unadulterated hatred. "Murdering our priests, and then hiding away in your little fairy tail world... How cowardly of you."

The demonic crucible battle-axe in his grip springs to life as a massive, bright red energy blade erects at the top. Runes line the inside of the double edged blade, which is being dragged against the marble floor. The Marauder slowly walks to the side, taunting you with the sparks flying up from his weapon. "The Khan Makyr wishes to leave you alone, but you and I both know this cannot happen..."

You step forward, and stride the opposite direction he is. Crowds of ponies back up, allowing the two of you room to circle each other.

"Your sins against the legion have displayed your true colors, Slayer... They are disgusting. You were never one of us. You were nothing but a usurper. A false idol." He scoops his axe into the ground, causing flakes of marble to fly up. "And yet after your grievous offences, your worthless planet is no more. Heed my words, Slayer. Your end shall be slow and wrought with pain."

"I've killed bigger and worse than you." You hiss out, eyebrows furrowing as you reach into your inventory.

Tens of royal guards emerge all around, circling the both of you. Horns engulf with an array of different magical hues, wings sprout and swoop downwards sending their owners skybound. guards take to the air, attempting to block in the intruder. From your right side, Celestia spreads her wings and enters the circle. "Return to whence you came, or be banished to the underworld." Celestia's voice booms with authority, horn glowing. God damnit, Celestia... Out of the many thoughts racking your brain, this was the most intrusive.

The Marauder's gaze falls onto Celestia, flashing her a quizzical look. He looks down to her cutie mark, and then glances around the room. He looks at the various sun-themed banners and decorations, piecing together a story in his head. Chuckling under his mask, he turns to face you once again. "So this is the goddess of the sun you never shut up about? Well, my eyes have been opened, Slayer. Before you perish, I will make you watch as I take her head for a trophy."

(Scene Music)

The Marauder tightens his grip on his axe, and swings it in your direction. A massive blade of energy rockets towards you at an alarming rate. Before it makes contact you dash to the right, watching as the crowd behind you scramble to get out of the way. The red blade smashes into the wall of the ballroom, near inches away from cleaving a mare clean in half.

The room disrupts into trampling and screams of terror, as the party goers evacuate as quickly as possible. With your chaingun in your grip you jam down the trigger, launching a burst of piping hot lead towards the ex-Sentinel. In quick retaliation to your attack, a crucible shield erects from the Marauder's left arm.

The shield easily blocks your onslaught, bullets crumple and smash against the energy barrier, shrapnel spewing out all over the place.

You never thought you'd have to go up against a Sentinel like this. You've trained with Sentinel warriors and fought side by side, but this is a different story. His push-forward offensive is on-par with your own.

"Your efforts are in vain, Slayer. I know your every move, you were raised by our best." The Marauder dashes back and forth, closing the distance in rapid succession.

The royal guards surrounding you two push forward. Unicorns fire magic missiles towards the ex-Sentinel warrior. The effort seems to be in vain, as his shield soaks most of them up. The bolts that hit him seem to have no effect except to anger him.

The Marauder rakes his axe towards you once again, sending another blade flying towards you. Prepared this time, you dodge out of the way and grab a table. Hurling the table into the air, the blade explodes on contact before it can reach the crowd in the back.

Turning around, you are slightly surprised to see the Marauder full on sprinting up to you. The hatred in his eyes strikes your soul, as he raises his axe to attack. Before he can swing down on you, you dash forward and punch him in the chest.

The Marauder growls in pain, before pulling a shotgun from his belt and quickly firing it at you. Your HUD flashes a warning, as piping hot buckshot sprays against your chestplate, knocking you back.

Swooping in from above, Celestia launches a beam of constant energy at the Marauder. He activates his shield once again, focusing on defending himself from the alicorn.

With his back turned away, your onslaught begins. Pulling out your rocket launcher, you pump a couple missiles into his back. Shards of his armor fly off, chunks of flesh being ripped apart as he turns around to face you.

"How utterly weak of you." He growls out, throwing another blade towards you.

With a glance behind, you note the seven guards the blade will barrel towards once you dodge it. With a scan of your surroundings, you grab another table and dash to the side, stopping the blade mid-flight.

Celestia's onslaught, as well as the constant barrage from her guards are taking their toll on his patience. Yelling in anger, the Marauder raises his axe to the sky, summoning a Hell-hound. The spiritual wolf springs to action, sprinting towards the guards in the back. Jumping into the crowd, the wolf bites the neck of the frontmost guard, ripping him apart as his comrades try to pull the beast off.

Swapping weapons, you lock the 'Precision Scope' onto your Heavy Cannon. Scoping in, a deafening blast echoes in the ballroom as you snipe the ghastly wolf from across the room. Some of the guards hall the wounded one away, others redeploy their shields.

Swooping in from behind, Celestia launches dozens of bright yellow magic missiles towards the Marauder in a magical gun-run. With the speed and ferocity of a hawk, she flies above, swinging around for a second run.

A cocky guard moves out of formation, charging the Marauder from behind. Knowing that he's signing his own death warrant, you sprint up behind him and slam your body into his, pushing him away. Super Shotgun at the ready, you jam both barrels against the ex-Sentinel's back, pulling the trigger. Dual strikers puncture the primers on the 8-gauge shotgun shells, as a cacophony of gunpowder hatred is flung right into his back.

The Marauder's back armor is destroyed, pale white back bloodied and ripped apart from piping-hot buckshot. Within an instant he flips himself around, kicking you in the chest to distance himself. Left hand reaching for his shotgun once again, he draws and pulls the trigger.

Click...

Crimson eyes dart down to the firearm in his hand with confusion and anger. Breaking open his weapon, he discovers a lack of ammunition in the dual chambers.

A yellow aura engulfs the extra shells on his belt, levitating them away and flinging them across the ballroom. Celestia flaps her wings, horn pointed straight towards your attacker, charging up another magical onslaught.

With anger and fury in his eyes, the Marauder dashes towards you and swings his axe. His pale arms clench, corrupted muscles flexing with vigor and hatred—his diabolical weapon swings over head with the force of a freight train. The jets on your suit activate, propelling you to the side as fast as they can; unfortunately a second too late. His energy blade cleaves against your right shoulder plate, carving a monstrous crater down your entire right side. The heat from the strike seeps through the almost impenetrable armor, molten droplets leak inside and sputter across your bare skin.

The pain? Agonizing.

The smell? Stomach-churning.

You can feel the skin on your body boil and bubble, fats rendered by the very suit designed to protect you. The fiery anguish is of a foreign intensity that ceases your internal tactician dead in its tracks. Your foe is unrelenting in his onslaught, utilizing your brief bout of confusion to his advantage. Ignoring all other assailants within the massive ballroom, the Marauder slams his body into your own, sending you tumbling into the crowd of royal guards behind. He rakes his axe forward, rending the air in a searing maelstrom of heat and hatred.

In a second you’re back on your feet, dashing forward into the oncoming attack, so as to prevent others from it’s heinous effects. Exploding in a fit of crimson sparks, the projectile melts through your chestplate and abdominal armor, exposing your bare skin with a massive diagonal slash.

A bright golden beam of concentrated magic blasts the Marauder in the back, ceasing his forward assault and giving you time to regroup yourself. Like a pilot in a dogfight, Celestia swoops overhead. With a beat of her majestic wings she swings around, flying away from you in an attempt to kite your aggressor—both away from yourself and the majority of the ponies who had not evacuated the ballroom yet.

He takes the bait—hatred filled eyes locked on the alicorn overhead. Marble plates below crack and spread apart, never built to sustain such heavy footfalls. Barreling forth, he throws tables out of his way, hellbent on bringing Celestia hurdling to the ground.

He’s growing tired... With every swing of his axe, his accuracy decreases, chest heaving of exhaustion. Blood oozes down his rotten body, staining the armor he wears and smearing against the glistening marble floor beneath. If it weren’t for his height, the Marauder would be hard to keep track of. Hundreds of party goers gallop back and forth, their deafening screams overlay the sound of his own growls of pain and anger. Thousands of conflicts beforehand have honed in on your target acquisition skills, the adrenaline pumping through your veins enhances your sense as you lock in on the Marauder’s position.

You tone everything out. The waves of screams from terrified nobility. The stench of burnt plastics—the clumps of piping hot pastries smeared against your sweat covered body. You close your eyes, exhaling through your nostrils—you can feel his feet smashing against the brilliant red carpet in the middle of the room. You feel the room shudder violently as he leaps into the air, grappling onto the golden statue of Celestia. Instincts take over, all thoughts silenced.

Armored hands guide the barrel-end of your super shotgun across the sea of ponies. Your legs begin to move, as you effortlessly push guards out of your way. With a mighty press of the secondary trigger, the underbarrel grappling hook rockets out from it’s bronze housing. Soaring through the air with unwavering accuracy, the barbed hooks forged in pig-iron penetrate their target without mercy.

Your digits dig into the handle of your weapon, as the steel chain reels back—hurling you through the air towards your target. The hook finally retreats from it’s nest, slamming back into its housing; just as you close the distance between yourself and the Marauder. You slam your body against his own, knocking him off his feet as he smashes into the ground below; the axe he held so tightly before flies away, cleaving into a wooden table which bursts into flames. With the back of his head exposed, you jam the trigger down. The deafening explosion—the powerful recoil and shockwave that follows after, rewarded by the addictive smell of freshly burnt sulfur acts as a sensational finale to tonight’s brawl. The Marauder’s head erupts into a shower of armor, flesh, skull and brain fragments which splatter the surrounding area.

In an instant your senses return to you, the uncomfortable sensation of food and pastries smeared against your arms, the scent of sulfur, guts, and burning wood from a table beside you—the agonizing pain coming from your shoulder and chest. One thing stands out to you in this very moment, and that’s the sudden lack of all screaming and chaos, save for one constant wail of agony. Below your feet, you watch the Marauder’s corpse burst into flames, burning away into sparks which vanish in the still air, leaving nothing but the bloodstained, fragmented marble tiling underneath.

Besides the crackling and popping of a wooden table set ablaze, the only other sound worth paying attention to is coming from a young stallion collapsed on the floor yards away from you. He rests on his side, clutching his right flank with both hooves. Blood oozes out from two gaping holes over his cutie mark. Bits and chunks of ripped up muscle tissue, flesh and fats sprinkle his yellow coat, his spider-bite-esque wound penetrates deep enough that you can see a grotesque glimpse of his pelvis. As if the dual holes weren’t damning enough, the fresh dripping blood which stains each spike of your Super Shotgun’s meathook confirms what exactly happened. In the heat of the battle, you didn’t pay much mind as to what exactly your meathook was aimed at, simply caring that you had something to swing off of in order to intercept your foe.

Guards rush over to the injured stallion, tending his wounds as best they can without any supplies. “Oh sweet Celestia before me! I can’t…! I can’t move my leg! My bucking leg!” Tears stream down his blocky face, his pearly whites clamp down as he cries.

All eyes in the room fall onto your person, casting looks of betrayal and confusion at you. Every little movement you make is being judged with prey-like fear. Straightening out your back from your hunched over state, you break open your shotgun and reload it, two spent shells hit the floor, echoing hollow rattles across the banquet hall. Participants gasp at the action, camera-wielding journalists for the ruined event now aim their devices at you, snapping photo after photo in rapid succession.

Two glorious wings beat against the air, bringing the alabaster alicorn to touchdown with grace and perfection. Magenta eyes scan over the hellscape which has formed, before locking in on the injured stallion. Her face is stoic, expression unreadable as she trots right past you, sizing up her subject's injury.

Royal guards do their best to tend to his gaping wound, constantly exchanging bloodied and soiled gauze tissue for fresh supplies. One of the two stallions looks up at his monarch. "He's losing blood fast, Your Highness. We need to evacuate him as soon as possible."

"See that you do." She responds, before softening her gaze at the injured stallion. "Do not be afraid, my little pony... Stay awake, and I will see you through this."

You turn your body to face this congregation, and in one moment, three things happen.

One.

Your own wounds flare up, the foul scent of your own burnt flesh and skin cloud your mind, your armor is still red hot from where you took argent blades.

Two.

Celestia tilts her head back to look at you, and while she hides it very well you can see clear as day the betrayal and disappointment in her soul.

Three.

Two pairs of regalia covered hooves stampede into the room. Princess Cadence and Princess Luna glance around, horns glowing and wings flared, ready to attack any perceived threat at a moment's notice. Cadence is the first to notice her adoptive aunt, and halts her spell in an instant, galloping over. "Auntie! What's going on? Why is everything on fire?!"

Luna trots up from behind, her eyes dart from the stallion's hind quarters, then to your bloodstained meathook, putting the puzzle pieces together. She mutters something unintelligible to herself, ears twitching as they threaten to fold.

"Cadence, help these guards escort my subject to the hospital. Luna, I need this entire area on lockdown. No pony is allowed to enter until we secure it." Celestia calmly commands, shifting her attention to you. Her legs begin to move, as she saunters forward. "Slayer, would you join me somewhere?" Her angelic voice has a questioning ring to it; as if the presence of her own subjects is preventing her from saying what is truthfully on her mind.

Shaky hands guide your steel barreled weapon back into its inventory, before they clutch at the open wounds in your shoulder and side.

Fuck... It's been awhile since anything hurt that bad. Mancubus fireballs are one thing, but this is on a league of its own.

With a final glance around the room, you trail Celestia, allowing her to lead.

The vast halls of your castle are quiet, agonizingly so. Besides the sound of your millennia-long trained lungs inhaling and exhaling, the muffled clank of your regalia-covered hooves against the luscious silk carpet below, paired with the deep and rumbling footfalls of the armored human walking by your side feel like punches to your gut, every step leaves a terrible ringing which amplifies your internal anxiety; though your stoic gaze allows none of it to cast outwards. If you’re being completely honest with yourself—you haven’t a clue where you’re taking Slayer, with no destination in mind other than somewhere private; away from the banquet hall. Emotionally, you feel like a cargo train coming off the rails. The culmination of tonight’s events have left you utterly baffled as to how you are supposed to feel. The conversation with Cadence earlier in the castle gardens gave you a glint of hope that perhaps this mysterious human by your side might be the one soul your battered heart has been crying out for these past thousands of years, and his actions up until a few minutes ago supported that.

You and your accomplice round yet another corner, trekking mindlessly through the labyrinth of hallways your castle consists of. The previous hallway held within its titan walls large, glorious marble pillars which stood on either side of the pristine carpet below, supporting the heavy ceiling above, and saluting those who may stride past. Now, however, you and Slayer find yourself inside a hallway dwarfed by the previous; one of the many wings to the guestrooms. Perhaps one of these shall suffice… You inquire internally, offering nothing but a glance to your destructively-unpredictable partner.

Unpredictable. The more this one word bounces around in your head, the more it perfectly describes his nature, and acts as a quick reminder why you’re dragging him away in the first place. How could he have so carelessly harm one of your subjects in the way he did? The incursion tonight was very much a fast-paced, chaotic mess, but rendering a pony’s hindquarters lame just to gain a tactical advantage racks you with an anger so fierce it is unfamiliar to you… Yet, despite this one hiccup, he has proven himself to be a saviour to your subjects not once—but twice. Was it just a hiccup? There were a hundred different things in that room for him to aim at, what if it was a fluke? You give Slayer a look over; his armor has suffered monstrous damage that will easily take days to repair, though shockingly his terrible wounds he sustained have undergone immense healing—dark purple blotches of healing skin remain, instead of the boiling pot of skin and flesh tissue it once was. You’ll get your answers soon enough, Celestia. You remind yourself, eyeing a vacant room for the two of you.

“Join me, please?” You calmly ask Slayer, using your magic to open the simple wooden door to the vacant guest bedroom. Cleanly, but with a layer of dust covering every inch of the place, it had “unattended”, written all over it. You’ve never seen it before.

The deadbolt clacks, you exhale, and you spin around to face the elephant—nay, human in the room. “Let me first say that I am forever grateful for your help defeating that… intruder. However, I believe that you could have handled things better back there, seeing as one of my subjects could potentially be disabled for life.”

The armored man standing at the other side of the room shifts his weight on his feet, and through his visor you watch an eyebrow raise. “You’re safe, and the threat is dealt with.”

“Well- I appreciate your dedication to my personal safety, but I hold my subjects near to my heart, and I would hope you’d put the same care into protecting them as you do to me.”

Slayer’s hands flex, then hesitate, as if he was going to ball them into fists. “Celestia, he was one in a room of hundreds. You should be thankful no one died.” His voice grows half a notch louder than previous, a hint of annoyance emerging.

Your wings shift ever-so slightly at his retort. “Believe me, I am more than happy that is the case. However, what I am not so happy about is the fact that we just held a ceremony welcoming you as a friend and hero to Equestria, and not even 24 hours later you have challenged that!”

“Challenged it? I asked for no such titles, yet you decided to bestow them upon me anyways. What the common pony thinks about me is none of my concern. However helpful you believe it to have been, the majority still see me as a monster, and unlike being a hero, being a monster actually allows me to accomplish my goals without obstruction!”

His voice sounds strained, as if it is the most his vocal cords had had to work in years—it most likely was. With an audible huff, Slayer turns away from you, pacing back and forth as he so often does.

Despite your best efforts, your majestic wings unfurl themselves from their rest, your eyebrows furrow as you lightly stomp the ground with a hoof. “Perhaps I should have expected this much! Afterall, are you not the Doom Slayer? The Hellwalker? The unchained predator that the heinous creatures of the underworld fear?”

This seems to strike his core. Slayer stiffens at these words, stopping dead in his tracks—helmet turning at a snail’s pace to meet your gaze. “How do you know those names?”

“When I am satisfied, you will get your answers.” Your commanding voice silences him. “Tell me… Is anger, death and destruction all you have ever been? What could have brought you to become this god of mayhem I see before me? Maybe I was the one at fault for ever allowing you to step foot in my country!”

The demeanour of the armored man has changed significantly; where he once stood tall and confident, he’s now slumped forward, shoulders sagged halfway, his furrowed eyebrows convey anger yet are betrayed by his darting eyes which shift from your own gaze down to your hooves.

You turn your head to the side, eyes mindlessly scan over the boring, dust covered furniture in this rather small bedroom. “Like I said before… I am forever grateful for what you have done—weeks ago as well as today… But you took a knee before me; you made a vow to protect myself and my land from whatever may come forth. I don’t expect you to be everypony’s friend, but at the very least I expected you to keep a vow.” With an exasperated sigh, your wings begin to fold inwards, as you turn to face the door. “I’m hopeful that I did not misjudge you, Slayer… though, if your many titles are anything to go by, I fear I have made a fool of myself.”

The deadbolt is engulfed with your magical aura, and begins to unlock.

“Hmph. Very chiding, Celestia...” His bassy, grit-filled voice booms from behind you, muffled underneath his helmet. “I haven’t heard that tone of voice in a long time. You speak to me like a wife would to her mis-behaving husband.”

You stop mid-step, your vaunted escape out the door ground to a halt by this out-of-character retort. You can feel your heart skip a beat, as your eyebrows uncontrollably furrow, your pupils shrink as they zone in on the fine details of the wooden door before you. “Are you getting petty with me, Slaye—”

“You see someone in me.” That booming growl cuts you off mid sentence, his right foot raises and lowers with a half-step towards you. “Did you think I wouldn't notice your glances and little acts of affection? I’ve seen the way you look at me, Celestia.” Silence floods the room, accompanied only by the sound of his weight shuffling from one side to the other. “You’re not just keeping me around to protect your country, are you?”

You feel like you’ve been hit by a train. In one swift motion, Slayer has derailed your entire train of thought, and clouded your mind in contradictory thoughts. Standing in utter awe, you can do nothing but tilt your head to the side—so as to catch Slayer in your peripheral vision.

“Who do you think you’re going to find underneath this helmet, Celestia?”

An inhale— and an exhale. Eyelids sag down, your eyes sink to the floor below you. “Forgive me if I have made you uncomfortable… I believe that in trying to make you feel welcome here, I have allowed myself to act unrestrained.” You let your eyes close completely, warm breath flows out through your nostrils as you raise your head. “You share many attributes with someone who was very dear to me… Someone who was taken from me…

“He was, and always will be, my soulmate… Dead or alive, through grief and anguish.”

Silence invades, as it so often does. The armored mystery man stands before you, his battle-torn chest rises and falls with soft, drawn out breaths.

You feel empty, and grey—void of all purpose or function. A single thought which you have held away for centuries sparks alive, and creeps its way back into your head, the one thought which could single-handedly crumple your will to go on. What if… he’s gone?

“I have had many titles in my life, Celestia. None of them I ever asked for, or truthfully wanted.” You can hear him take one more step closer. “There was one title I was denied, and that alone is the reason I fight. It’s the only reason I am alive today.”

Your ears perk up ever so slightly, pinpointing on him. “And what is this title?”

“Husband.”

For just a single pump you can feel your heartbeat cease. Your eyelids flutter open as you finally summon the willpower to gaze up at Slayer. His demeanour is… different. He stands with a sagged slump, one that lacks confidence, and seems in it’s own way, vulnerable.

"Being torn from the target of your affections changes you... I'm sure you're all too familiar with that." He turns his body, casting his gaze out the dusty window, looking over the city below in the night sky. "I can still remember the day I proposed to her; the look of shock, and overwhelming joy—how the setting sun lowering beneath the mountains beyond casted her body in it's eternal bliss. I remember how it felt to be jabbed in the chest by her, for making vulgar jokes. That memory alone has, and always will keep me going. Just to see her smile again would make my life worthwhile."

You blink—once, twice, then thrice. With a quick glance to Slayer, you covertly magic your prized photograph from out of your ethereal mane; the same photograph you showed Cadence earlier in the night. The sun falling behind the mountains in the distance, how it's deep orange light casts your body in a gentle warmth. Your eyes unfocus, heart rate increasing.

He turns back to face you, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts. "My time is filled with agony and loss, Celestia. Everything I come in contact with is destroyed eventually, intended or not. Wherever I tread, the demons follow." His voice wavers at that last bit. "I've fought for so long, and I've seen so much... I'm afraid of what might happen if I return."

You swallow the lump in your throat, and return your gaze to Slayer, placing the picture back in your mane. "I have learned in my life that love conquers all, Slayer. It is why I rule Equestria like I do, the power of friendship and love are beautiful things. Hardship and loss are only natural, but your love will prevail. Always."

"What would happen if I took this helmet off, Celestia? After everything you've seen me do, everything I've done before that? Would you accept this man of yours back into your life, knowing all this?"

"Always… He is my soulmate. Never in a million years would I give up on him." You practically whisper.

He stares at you, eyes unreadable through the deep blue glass they hide behind. "Celestia?"

You take a step forward and stand feet away from him, never once taking your gaze off those eyes of his. "Yes, Slayer?"

He goes to take a step forward, but hesitates. "I want to come home, but I don't think I should… Not yet."

Your heart aches at his words, even more so at his hesitance. With lips that threaten to tremble, you take a step forward and speak. "It’s okay to be afraid…”

He shakes his head, crouched into an almost fetal position, though if it were upright instead of laying down.

“But I’m here for you. This kingdom welcome’s anycreature who would uphold its values.” You bite your lip, gazing at that darkened visor.

He paws at the ground. You can almost hear a muffled sort of whimpering, dully being carried to you across the short distance.

And then he looks up, with suddenty to make you jump, his response, a quiet whisper that cuts through the air, like a scythe through wheat. “You don’t understand, Tia! It’s like staring at the Door’s of Eden. I have experienced the wonders and beauties within… but once you leave—” he paused, standing up again, stance changing back into the one she was most familiar with—stolid, and unyielding. “—you can never come back.”

You force composure, becoming as unyielding as the man in front of you. “Is that truly what you believe? There is no invisible force keeping you from that future! No, the only thing keeping you from that future is you.”

“Tha—”

You cut him off, your voice becoming slightly strained. “You think you’re the only one who lost a title that day? Huh?! I was going to become a wife! But instead, all I became was a would-be widow, tasked with putting a failing kingdom back together. Piece by piece!”

Your breathing is labored, your eyes, assuredly red, You feel the oncoming sniffles, and you make a herculean effort to hold back the tears. A few slipped through, splattering on the floor heavily, but you don’t barely notice. Instead, your eyes are locked on the unmoving form of Slayer, who had slid a smidge closer while you were talking—nay, shouting.

You hear the tiny exhale of breath—his breath, and your breath hitches and you lean in, waiting for his response.

“I forgot how loud you could be when you’re angry.”

It was less than edifying.

Your voice cracks slightly. “That’s… that’s all you have to say!?” And then you are upon him in a frenzy, hooves striking out with the force of thousands of years of repressed emotion. His visor, his breastplate, his arms, none are spared from your wrath. The tears that you had precariously held back are spilling furiously down your cheeks, matting messly within your coat. You feel his arms enclose around you, easily breaking through your striking wings, and haphazardly trapping one on your back, leaving the other to violently lash out. It was quick to be reigned in.

You hear screaming. Your screaming. It was a destructive, violent sob—the kind typically accompanied by uplifted furniture and wayward spells. But this one wasn’t. Suppressed by Slayer, you could do nothing but continue to thrash around, trying desperately to escape.

After several minutes, it transitioned to a struggle of hopeless anger, and then, to resignation. Your throat is haggard in a manner you haven’t felt in forever. Your eyes are sore from the number of tears that have poured forth from them. Your head rests on his shoulder.

Several more minutes pass by, and probably several more after that, until you lose track of the numerous amounts of minutes passing, your body melting into his as though you were tranquilized.

Perhaps you have been.

Slayer feels like porcelain. As though, even in all his armor, one little prod and he’d break—shatter, into so many little pieces, you’d never be able to put him back together. But his grip is invariably strong regardless. You feel quite the same.

You hear his breath, underneath his helmet, soft and tired. It prompts you to put forth one, simple request, in a voice so quiet that even a mouse might miss it.

“Please come home.”

He stands still for what feels like an eternity, waging an internal battle of suppressed emotions, and conflicting feelings. After a moment, he makes his decision.

As gently as he can, Slayer shuffles his arms off your body, scooting away just enough to allow his gauntlet-covered hands to grab either side of his helmet. Synthetic leather creaks and squeaks, air seals hiss as their pressure is lost, electronics blip and beep—up his helmet drags, before finally lifting off his head.

Two eyelids open, revealing familiar eyes underneath.

Armored hooves clank across the fractured marble tiling of the ballroom, as two Royal Medics begin hauling away the injured party-goer on a stretcher. On the outside you remain stoic as ever, but the smile of a princess can hide many secrets—this is especially true for the Princess of Love. Your pink hooves threaten to tremble, as you just now begin to comprehend the true weight of Equestria’s situation.

“Cadey!”

That raspy voice you love so dearly calls to you from behind, catching you off guard and making you jump an inch into the air. “Bah! S-shiny! What did I tell you about sneaking up on me like that?!”

Your favorite stallion in the world gallops over, craning his neck around yours as he wraps a forehoof over you. “I’m sorry, I’m just so glad to see that you’re okay…”

You return the affection with passion, leaning into his embrace and nuzzling against his cheek. “It’s okay… I’m glad you’re safe too. What about Twilight and her friends?”

“Twily’s fine. She and her friends are shaken up, but they’re fine.” Shining Armor’s voice is muffled against your neck, as he takes a moment to inhale your scent. “This can’t keep happening… We’re not even safe within our own castle.”

“I know, sweetie… I know. I’m sure Auntie and Luna feel the same way.”

“Auntie… Speaking of which, where is she?” Shining raises his head, looking into your eyes before glancing around the destroyed ballroom. “Luna’s right over there with the guards, but I haven’t seen Celestia once since this started. Come to think of it… Where’s Slayer?”

You gaze around the room with your husband, idly scanning for the two people in question. “Celestia had pulled Slayer away to talk with him… She didn’t seem very pleased with him.”

“Hmm? Why’s that?”

You bite your lip, and motion to the puddle of blood several yards away. “You caught a glimpse of that injured stallion, right?”

Shining Armor cringes. “The one with the nasty flank wound?”

“Mhm…”

“Yeah, I got a good look at him, what’s up?”

“...I’m not sure if he meant to, but it sounds like that was Slayer’s doing.”

Shining’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, as he looks down at the floor below. “...Why would he do that?”

You give a small shrug, baffled yourself. “I can’t say, I’m sure that’s what Auntie is trying to find out right now.”

“Well, whatever the case, I don’t feel safe with you out here. Let’s call it a night, yeah?” Shining Armor huddles closer, motioning you to join him in leaving the wrecked room.

“Yeah… Let’s.” You say with a soft smile, walking side by side with the love of your life, putting tonight behind the both of you.

As you both make your way away from the mess, your ears catch two very distinctive noises echoing from your right side—The elegant, albeit weary and less calculated steps of your Auntie’s regalia on top of marble tiles, accompanied by the larger, boomier footfalls of the armored man by her side. One of Slayer’s massive arms is wrapped ever so gently around Celestia’s neck, the two of them trek at a slow, almost staggered limp—as if they both are helping each other stay upright, and if one were to fall, they both would.

With eyes wide and mouth agape, your vision locks in on two emerald eyes, which stare back at you. Neither you, nor Slayer speak a word, as you both walk in opposite directions accompanied by your special partners. Just before he and Celestia round a corner, Slayer gives you a small nod.

You turn to face forwards again, with a slight skip in your step, and a familiar warmth inside your heart.

The warmth of knowing that two lost souls have found eachother again.