From this perch, the entire nation seemed as one small place on the back of a postcard. So high above it all, above the minutia of detail and the vast expanses of unclaimed land were made into a singular thing simply displayed for one to view. A whole so complicated, but made comprehensible from just the right vantage. It was all there. Ponyville to the south, Manehattan to the east and the very peaks of Appeloosa to the west. Had there not been a mountain to the North, one could see far off toward the Crystal Empire and its wind-whipped plains of ice and snow.

Ozymandias could never be sure why, but he felt a kinship with the cold. Harsh currents of biting air, the snap of ice in the nostrils and the dreary clouds that hung low for most of the season comforted him. He knew it was an unusual way to be, given that most of this nation was still invested deeply into agriculture and worshiped the fertile nature of the giving summer and autumn months. He was unusual in many ways of course, but here in Canterlot that wasn’t something one could brag about. Take a short walk through the right streets and plenty of strange creatures with their strange languages and strange foods would seem common as the cobblestones in the road.

Despite being a human- a pony-halfbreed human- Ozymandias never felt brotherhood with the foreigners in his land. Griffins and diamond dogs and dragons and the like were insular peoples that preferred their own kind. His kind were ponies, the ones he had been born in the midst of and spawned from. Winter time was coming, one of his rare friends in this vast world that he ignorantly felt he understood. The splintering shards of ice and the slicing storms wouldn’t trouble him, for they never had since he was a young boy growing up in Ponyville. For now, autumn was bringing about the endless harvest festivals and celebrations around Equestria, an occasion Canterlot didn’t celebrate in the same way as his modest countryside origins.

The young man sipped his cider and adjusted his uniform somewhat, finding that the ragged and hole-filled tunic rubbed his dark skin in just the wrong places. Royal Guard tailors had done their best to accommodate him, but the rough material just didn’t wear well when it was wet and worn. Today had been a long day for breaking it in, popping many of the stitches out and splitting some of the seams whilst he was training with the other soldiers.

The Royal Guard was an honorable institution, albeit one perhaps bloated by age and eons of peace. Equestrian military history had more or less stopped many generations ago when the Celestial Sisters were split amongst themselves, that civil war ending with a resounding victory. The nation hadn’t declared war in hundreds of years, thus the hard working stallions and mares in the services had slowly declined in readiness and purpose. Still a physical pursuit, one joining the Guard was put in charge of policing duties for the most part, shipped off across Equestria for service tours in whichever province needed armed muscle to protect the peace.

In a way, Ozymandias hoped dearly he would be stationed far from home. If his Mother and Aunt saw him in full armor wielding a spear, they would almost certainly fawn and weep about him night and day. Fretting about a son’s safety was acceptable. But fussing and harassing him in front of his rough peers was a different matter.

Company H was no place for a soft soul. A, B, C and D were reserved largely for the pure-breds, the blue bloods, and the native ponies. Everything below was either a gaggle of secondary troops rotating in and out of training, or the rejects. Company H was the unit graced with multiple species. Non-ponies rarely served in the golden armor of the palace. Non-ponies rarely served in very prominent roles at all, for there was some manner of image to maintain. But as Ozymandias had come to find out, non-ponies still had plenty to do for their country.

Immigrant or native, the griffins and dogs and drakes in this company had all enlisted to protect the nation they called home. Thus, they were given plenty of opportunity to take on the most dangerous and loathsome tasks in the service. Border patrol in hostile environments, monster extermination, bandit response and most importantly, logistics. The dark boy rubbed his aching shoulders after another sip of his brandy-laced drink, the steamy brew keeping him warm in the poorly insulated barracks. He had always been strong, but hoisting around five-gallon barrels of water for the entire day had taken its toll on him.

When he joined, he imagined he would be taking after the local candy maker in Ponyville. But six months in and he hadn’t done much fighting. Mostly running and drilling and marching and the like. He had come to know much of his company, but that couldn’t quite make up for the rather sizable gulf between expectation and reality. The Sargent insisted day and night-

“Oh. It’ll come. And when it does you’ll mess your trousers and beg for more PT! Now shut your ugly mouth and move, scumbag! I’m sick of looking at you!” Their stallion drill sergeant Rough Neck certainly made a convincing argument there, but his troops were almost universally too green to accept it. All the human could do was bide his time, practice and work until he was ready. Today was done, nothing was going to change that. Thus, he enjoyed the tiny window of relaxation afforded to the cadets in Company H.

“Stew, Rat?” A hulking diamond dog grunted in his ear with a great splotchy apron draped over his front, the stains of myriad dishes blending with time to make one foul odor. Ozymandias had many nicknames in his short life, but Rat’s Nest was certainly the least endearing. No matter how many times the barbers cropped his long locks of ebony curls down to his skull they would grow past his shoulders within a week, necessitating that he simply wear it tied up constantly. Such a dirty mane constantly sodden with sweat- in all fairness- did indeed resemble the cozy hobble of rodents constantly scurrying around the soldiers’ feet.

“No… I can’t take another bite of that shit.” He answered huskily, pushing his gaze back out the stone window looking over the countryside. The entire barracks was alive with noise tonight, some motley streamers of bats and pumpkins and moons hanging between the bunks as the boys mingled and ate and drank. Shining Armor himself had spiked the piping hot cider with Fillydelphia brandy, bringing in a rare pot of meat stew for all the carnivorous boys under his command. Ponies had good hearts, but detestable palettes for anything that wasn’t green. Thus it was little more than water, salt and beef boiled until gelatinous. A good effort, but near unbearable after half a serving.

“Ooooh, grumpy Rat’s Nest always turning down food! How will you get strong-fast like me unless you eat meat?” Despite his wish, Ozzy’s towering friend ladeled him another helping of the clear and flavorless broth. Rip-Snort was a man he could rely on, but he was still a large talking dog when things came to brass tacks.

“Dude-”

“Eat, eat, eat! Free meat for you doesn’t come cheap! After this it’s back to lentils and bean-slop for us!” Ozzy knew he was right, but he somehow still couldn’t stomach the idea of this rough and sinewy beef hock breaking apart in his mouth and soaking up every last drop of saliva on its way down.

“Ugh… bring me more brandy. How about that? That’s the special stuff I actually want.” Rip rolled his eyes and set the massive tankard of stew down, its steam dancing with the cider’s steam to entirely ruin its flavor.

“Stupid pony juice make you bitch. Big meat piece make you dog-strong! Then you win more fights and not die!” He accented his factoid by flexing his incredible arms, bulging muscles conditioned by the same months of training as Ozzy. Had it not been for the corrupted magic flowing through his muscles and bolstering their strength, the young man would’ve been torn apart by these creatures before he could pick up a spear. No normal man could ever hope to take on a diamond dog and live, but then again Ozzy was no normal man. Whilst he and most diamond dogs were relatively similar in their height, the males boasted such incredibly broad shoulders and wide arms that the human looked helplessly out of place standing rank and file with them, thus they couldn’t help but believe him to look horribly malnourished and sickly.

“Then tonight I’m a bitch! I’m gonna throw that slop up if I take one more bite, I swear!”

“Ah let him be, Snort! Rat’s got a point.” Nasal intones and a snarky voice cut through their conversation and effectively stopped it then and there. Soaked from beak to cheeks from drink, the trio’s most confident and slick member made himself known with a strut and a visible lack of stability to his step. One could positively smell the fire of drunkenness on him alongside the contraband cologne.

Sand Piper wasn’t his real name. But the griffin took it on to sound more equine
when living amongst such creatures. He was young and strong just like the rest, but unlike his fellow jar-heads in the making, Piper had quite the devious intent to his actions. Even now Ozzy couldn’t help but listen and watch him closely as he settled against the same wall, something about his expression communicating great promises. Ozzy could always be expected to smooth things over with Sargent Rough Neck and the mares, some special gift of his being a rather soothing face for authority. Rip-Snort never missed a chance to be charitable, toting stew to serve or carrying a comrade with a broken ankle. A good man, but one not to be trusted with anything delicate.

Piper could find things. On multiple occasions he came back to the campfire with a fat turkey simply perfect for roasting or skittered back into the tent with tobacco to share. When they weren’t marching or training, he could find information- perhaps the most vital treasure of all. Tonight, he had the look of discovery. Ozzy could smell it on his smile, the stiff and unique countenance a beak curled upwards betrayed.

“That crap’s for dogs and alley cats. We’re soldiers, ain’t we?” Rip held the tankard of slop closer to him, defending it against such scathing remarks.

“Is good… they left bone and fat in for vitamins.”

“La dee dah! A mouthful of beef fat! If only I had some pig foot to wash it down with.” Ozzy huffed as he finished his hot drink, the very tips of drunkenness’ tendrils tickling at his mind.

“Listen to your Momma, Ozzy. It’s the nutrients in that slop that makes your feathers eventually come in.” Pinchy talons nicked at the young man’s face, but he quickly batted them away.

“You got anything good for us? If not I’m gonna go to sleep, dude.” Piper fished about in his ripped tunic for a moment, producing a paper bag of the most unassuming variety.

“Keep mouthing off to me like that and I won’t bring you a damned thing, Rat Nest. The going’s good but security’s all up my ass tonight.” Rip and Ozzy peered into the bag with great confusion, finding no vittles but great heaps of dark fur. The pungent smell of fashioned rubber burned their eyes and the cheap scent of rough stitching made their guts rumble for more substantial rations.

“What the- This just garbage! Why not steal food? Good food?!”

“Everybody besides us is on patrol, ding-dong! I can’t even jay-walk out there without East Company trying to slap a pair of cuffs on me!” Ozzy pulled the piece from its sack-shaped container and cringed yet more at its unusual appearance.

“You’re losing your touch, Chief. This is a dud.” In some manner he felt offended at the bird presenting him with a gorilla suit. Normally his plundering was sweets and snacks and razor blades. The kinds of things a man came to dearly miss when on a strict military diet.

“Somehow I knew you guys wouldn’t put the pieces together.” The haughty beast rolled his eyes and stretched out the costume, showing off its unusually anthropomorphic shape.

“Look close. See? It’s made for a diamond dog.”

“So?” Ozzy snapped.

“So… we throw you in there? Lurk around a bit in the bushes? We can scare kids all night and take their candy! It’s a classic!” The boys had to admit some excitement at the prospect. Military men didn’t get to enjoy the holidays, dress up in fun costumes or indulge themselves on sweets. The best they could hope for was right here, sleeping in a cot like every other night with sweaty beasts on either side but joined by the spirit of drunkenness. Memories flooded Ozzy’s mind of doing just this in Ponyville, lurking and skulking around under the cover of foreboding darkness on Nightmare Night and leaping out to frighten the children. It worked just as well on adults, given his already freakish appearance compared to the average equine.

The same trick didn’t work as an adult, however. Being one of two humans in all the world, it was always easy to trace any aggrievement back to him.

“The hell I’m wearing this. Make him do it.” Ozzy tossed it toward their burly compatriot. His shoulders were far too broad from the outset, the entire costume perhaps designed for a female or a child of his species.

“You want free stuff? Gotta cover your face, Rat. Haven’t I taught you anything?” The mask was indeed bone chilling, if only because of its uncanny ability to look like no creature that had ever lived. Ozzy had seen gorillas in books and he was somewhat aware that they didn’t have great big gaping mouths full of sharp teeth and furrowed brows. While perhaps inaccurate, it was quite scary. And if the costume was indeed baggy and ill-fitting enough, he could most certainly raise as much chaos as he liked and still be free the next morning. He looked back over the rest of the barracks, most of the boys so drunk already that they were passing out at the table playing cards or snoring in their bunks. The moon rose higher and higher by the second, ticking away their opportunity to be naughty. So, weighing his options, the rambunctious young thing cracked his neck and stood straight.

“Let’s get some candy then.”

Luna sashayed her way through the crowds built in the square, ghosting between ponies that by now had loosened their lips with alcohol and dance. The music was fantastic this year, a mixture of human inspired pieces and traditional brass bands intertwined for a perfect balance. The games and lights and noises all danced around her in a dervish of colors, her face strung up in silhouettes remembering that great foe long since defeated. After all this time there was comfort in seeing the mare in the moon. A reassurance that she was gone and buried rather than hiding just beneath the surface.

In her absence this holiday turned out to be quite suited to her tastes. Sweets, costumes, wild dancing, fireworks and night-long rampages of fun delighted the shy princess much more than stuffy and regal ballrooms packed with important ponies. Among the commoners, she could not only participate without fear but connect with her people on the most intimate level. It was a rare time to be a participant in something glorious, rather than its stodgy overseer.

It was also tremendous fun to burst into diatribes as Nightmare Moon whenever new passerby dared take their eyes off her. Skilled in the arts of illusion and stealth, Luna had sent dozens of ponies into screaming hysterics with her glistening fangs and venomous eyes. To leap out from the shadows and roar, to watch the absolute panic cross her ponies’ faces and then to have them embrace her in quivering laughter was a feeling unlike any other.

Her wandering about the city instigated the guard to be on a constant high alert. At each street corner some poor soul draped in armor held their spear or sword at the ready in case some evil character decided to make their move. But given how many of them were speckled with purple and pink kiss-marks, draped in celebratory banners and swooning drunkenly on their hooves, the Night Mistress guessed they too had made time to indulge. One or two got quite the good scare as well, screaming at the top of their lungs when the dreaded Nightmare Moon snapped her jaws at them.

The scaring was amusing enough, but her true joy lie in being so free for the evening. No business to attend to, just an entire day and night for her to call her own and do as she pleased. The last five years had seen very little creativity in the costume, but this season Luna marveled at her own delightful idea.

White paint ran from hoof to ear with delicately placed floral accents, making use of her naturally dark color to illustrate a skeleton walking among the living. From the proper position she could pull off the illusion with startling skill, as if there truly was just a set of lifeless bones animated like a living mare. The artists she had recruited to help her added flowers and lines and accents to make it all the more appealing, her face especially dolled up with feminine details. Ponies complimented her left and right, for it was really quite the expressive and boisterous costume. Others attempted the look, but simply lacked the professional help Luna had at her disposal. Likewise, they didn’t have access to the stunning glow-in-the-dark paint she was able to mix herself. It was the first time in a long time that make-up made her feel pretty, in the truest sense of the word. Something about the red lips and the eye liner and the mascara and the obscurity of her face made the Princess all the more willing to pose and laugh and speak among the crowds.

Making her way toward the cliff-edge of the mountain city she found the crowd thinning. Out here in the natural parts, there was less to see and do and thus less ponies mingled around yapping it up. The silence bristled with the dull roar of the festivities, putting Luna into the most relaxed state she had felt in days. A breeze ran down from the great towers above and imparted the sweet aroma of the mountain, of the magic flowing through it and blessing every stone laid in its foundation. Illuminating the grass and the bushes around her, she took to walking the little path idly and thinking to herself.

So much so that she failed to notice the discarded candy pails on the peripheries of the trail. Where the gravel stopped, the grass concealed empty wrappers and paper covers for candies pilfered from unsuspecting victims. The skeleton mare simply made her way down the path with her hooves beating against the loose soil in a rhythmic and telling pattern. A signal to any devious creatures watching that prey approached none-the-wiser to their horrible scheme. The boys put their stolen goods down and silenced their laughter for a moment, preparing the gorilla for his next theatrical entrance.

“Damn she’s tall! You recognize her?” Piper scoffed at the approaching pony, her make-up so thick and intricate it was hard to pin any face to her. Ozzy sucked for air through the tiny hole punched in the teeth of his mask, sweat and steam fogging his eyes like burning smoke.

“How would I recognize anypony in this thing?” He snapped back, crouching in preparation for a terrifying leap from the bushes.

“Smells fancy. Smells like perfume and candy.” Ripsnort interjected with caramel gumming up his mighty teeth. The boys had taken to disguising themselves with whatever costumes they could pilfer from the public, thus they were clad in paper-thing rags meant to resemble the grim reaper and some kind of fairy princess. Ripsnort didn’t mind the pink so much, as it caused great confusion whenever he jumped out and threatened to eat passing ponies.

“She’s coming! Get ready, Rat Nest!” Ozzy adjusted himself on his burning heels as the mare came closer and closer, humming gayly to herself in the night. He waited and listened, unable to get a good look through his mask and the brush and the darkness shrouding him. The sound of her squealing in befuddled terror would no doubt be quite amusing, though. Better if she dropped whatever vittles she happened to be carrying too. A moment passed before he was patted on the shoulder, the signal to begin their ferocious attack.

“SKREEEE!!!”

“RAAAAAUURGH!!!”

“OOH! OOH OOH AAH!!!” Ozzy swung his arms above his head and moved in the most disturbingly ape-like manner he could, the uncanny appearance more than enough to convince most ponies he was a real, deformed simian. Luna stopped dead in her tracks as the trio of vagabonds leapt out at her screaming and waving their arms around, each one dressed more ridiculous than the last. Unusual to see a trio of non-ponies out at night, but nonetheless amusing. Perhaps it was all the wine tonight or just the wonderful air flushing her lungs, but the alicorn hardly stirred at the sight of such ruffians. If anything, she was quite pleased by this boyish attempt to frighten her.

“Get her, monkey! Attack!” The burly diamond dog in a tu-tu commanded, his black-furred compatriot beating his chest and making the most blood curdling ooks he could.

“OOH! MONKEY KILL!!! MONKEY KILL!!!” He roared through his rubbery mask, the sweet sound of his muffled and insane voice sparking something in the back of Luna’s mind. Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped ever so slightly open, the tone and tenor and character of Ozzy’s voice burrowing deep into familiar territory. She had heard this sound before, albeit with the details changed. That unusually deep voice lacking in nasality, the pattern of non-equine lips speaking with sharp canines behind them. There was no way to compare this masculine and rambunctious voice to a face, as the stupid costume surrounding it concealed any identity one could parse out. But anything vaguely anthropomorphic that sounded like that triggered a response in the base of her brain.

The boys quickly lost their nerve as the mare stared at them unmoving and unresponsive. At a certain point they feared she wasn’t even breathing. Ozzy still wiggled around in a monkey like fashion, though his voice shed the husky growl of a crazed primate.

“Uh… get her! Rip her hooves off, monkey! Yaw!” Piper’s threats didn’t disrupt the mare from eyeing their costume-clad comrade, her eyes so focused and intent it burned through the plastic fur. Ozzy was suddenly uncomfortable in front of this lanky and somewhat familiar mare, as if a twisted skin walker had taken the flesh of a pony and stood ready to pounce.

“Ooga booga.” The human grunted, spawning a demon. Immediately the mare burst into a cloudy dervish of blue fire and inky blackness, lightning bolts striking the ground around her. Enormous fields of magic swirled about her and plunged into her body, bending and breaking it into a monstrous creature long thought banished from this realm. The trio stood awestruck as she contorted and cried and turned before them, her final form mighty and tall and rippling with sinister energy.

“OH CRAP.” Piper gasped simply as his tail pinned to his rump. Ripsnort’s ears immediately fell against his skull when the tyrant snarled down upon them, her glistening white teeth caked with drool and backed by powerful jaws.

“N- NIGHT- N- N-!!!” He tried to scream her name but simply sputtered in absolute shock. The pair tightly embraced one another, protecting vulnerable bodies from the shrieking winds of the Night Ruler’s presence.

“Guys?! Guys what’s going on? Get this thing off me!!!” Ozzy shouted with booming thunder ringing in his ears from all directions. The energy building around him sent trembles through his body, the energy radiating off this powerful being interacting with his own internal source of corrupted magic. The young man didn’t have words for the feeling of immediate terror rushing through his heart, as if death itself had reached out and grabbed his throat. Worse yet, he couldn’t see a thing through the rushing fog of ebony flooding his vision and his long hair tangled in the mask. Pull and rip as he did, the slick rubber wouldn’t let go of his unusual jaw line and come free.

”Cower before me, rotten subordinates! Your sacrifice pleases Our hunger!”

“WUAAAAAAAAAGH!!!” The troops squealed in the most girlish manner possible as Nightmare Moon spread her wings and brought down penetrating, consuming darkness.

”His human flesh shall sate Our bloodthirst… for now! Pray that We do not crave the soul of another whilst ye still live!”

“Damn it! What is going on?!” Ozzy demanded as he ripped the mask off, taking a bundle of his own hair with it. The boy’s last moment was spent gazing up at the forces surrounding him, a cyclone of darkness that turned the skin a clammy and cold like dead leather. Eyes of the most chilling glacier color bore down on him, fangs like sharp diamonds descending to have flesh ripped to tatters. Crashing down with tidal force the blackness swallowed their friend up and burned him away like fire. Instantly the mare and the boy were vapor listlessly hovering in the air. Thick clots of the magical residue danced like embers before they were torn apart by the wind, as if nothing had even been there in the first place. The troops peered out from between one another’s arms with the terror of death nipping at their noses.

Profound horror rattled their cores as they saw naught but the lifeless mask sagging on the soil. A sweat-drenched face soaked in moonlight marking the spot where their friend had been devoured by Nightmare Moon.

Ozymandias, on the other hand, gasped awake after the swirling darkness had consumed his vision. The sensation of teleporting always played tricks with his mind and disturbed his train of thought, very similar to being whacked in the face with a stick. In that moment where his eyes remained glued shut from sweat and magic dust clinging to his lids he was at least able to reflect and appreciate not being dead. Blinking himself back to life then, he almost came to envy those lifeless and still.

“Forgive me, Dear King. But t’was the only way We could spirit thee off for Ourselves. We do so hope thou are not harmed?” The soothing, mellow and shy voice graced his ears in a chorus of alluring sound. Immediately the breath flowed free from his chest, as if all his burdens had suddenly been lifted and he walked without gravity. Then he beheld the mare and the room and felt himself stiffen in reflex.

“Wha- huh? Princess- Princess Luna?!” He gasped upon finally recognizing the tall and painted figure, her body completely unshackled by her regal jewelry. She was naked to him, akin to seeing one’s closest family without their skin. He had always been raised to respect her divinity, he had pledged to protect her nation in joining the guard. But now he was standing before her, bedraggled and stuck in a gorilla suit. With no grace he fell to his knee and attempted to bow to her, only narrowly missing a table’s edge with his face. In this monstrous bedroom filled with star charts, telescopes and tomes of ancient knowledge, the mighty marble table would’ve surely cracked his skull.

“Nay, nay. This is not necessary, dear King.” She hummed, lifting his head with cooling, azure magic. He resisted at first, but his body had grown accustomed to being commanded. The panting human yielded and struggled to meet her gaze, finding that his eyes locked forward out of habit. The painted Mistress of the Stars would not have it, as she stood on the tips of her pretty painted hooves to meet his gaze. She simply had to see them, for they were gorgeous works of art and an indicator of his heritage. Just as she suspected, muted green sclera with poisonous, red irises. Ozzy felt the sweat pour with renewed vigor as the Princess consumed his field of vision, commanding him to behold nothing but the soft white painted onto her fur and the glistering majesty of her sea-foam eyes.

“You… wish not to look upon Us? Art thou nervous? Please, there is no need! We assureth thee that we mean no harm, Ozymandias. We dearly apologize if our little trick has disturbed thou!” She said with a soft expression and a tremble in her voice, as if she too was overwhelmed by his presence. Ozzy had grown so accustomed to ponies speaking gently around him that it hardly registered, every creature he ever knew harbored some level of fear for his alien shape. Luna searched him for signs of undue terror, but all she could find was the maddening shape of a unique human once again standing before her. It took much of her own self control to resist touching him and feeling out such a treasured body simply for the honor of being one of few to feel its construction.

“Permission to speak, Your Highness?” He stammered somewhat as the words fell from his mouth in a trained and robotic manner. His entire form locked tightly into a quivering attention, each muscle cocked tightly to assure no hidden drill sergeant would come rushing from the shadows and scream in his face.

“Of course! Thou may speak however much thou wish. Our chambers shall be thine refuge, dear King.” Luna didn’t pull herself away from him when she said this. The hot breath leaving her lips tainted with the aroma of wine infected his mind. Sweet tendrils of both alcohol and sugar made him tremble as it came wet and hot from another body, especially one of such a beautiful and regal mare. In her focused haze, there was little besides spitting on her face that would push the curious mare away.

“I am Ozymandias of H Company, Ma’am! Equestrian guard! My commanding officer is Rough Neck and I will report to him for punishment immediately upon my release!” She tittered with a gleeful laugh at his rigidness, such an injection of absurd rhetoric giving her the strength to place a hoof on his chest.

“We are well aware of who thou art. A human doth not go through Equestria without being noticed. Remove this awful thing thou art wearing! We cannot speak truthfully with such a childish intrusion!” The Constellation Queen pressed down on his loose and uncomfortable costume, disrobing him with a few tactful presses and pushes. Magic crept up his back to find a zipper and yank it apart in one smooth motion.

“Your Majes-!” Ozzy blushed deeply as he was made half-naked before the highest authority in the land. In his bid for comfort Ozzy wore nothing but his training shorts and boxers for this sweltering excursion. When Luna had assumed this itchy and cheap thing would conceal an actual uniform befitting one of her Guard, the alicorn nearly fainted upon seeing his bare and powerful body.

“Goodness, my King! Th- thou art so- EHM! S- so bare…” She huffed with a hoof hiding her aghast expression. Ozzy looked utterly horrified at this, quickly concealing his lower half with his hands vainly covering his groin.

“Apologies, Your Majesty!” He snapped in reflex, bowing to her and holding his quivering attention.

“It’s very hot in the suit! Please forgive me, Your Highness!” Luna’s eyes wandered up and down his exposed and helpless form, drinking in the details of such a masculine man. Ozzy clearly took after you, but with an incredible lack of fat to cover his natural beauty. Flowing through his muscles were tendrils of Umbra’s tainted magic, a growth-stimulant of unnatural origin that the blushing Princess’ own powerful field of energy fizzled and sparked against. Clearly mortified at his nakedness, Luna thought it would be best to look away, to cover him with a towel- anything to keep the human from thinking of her as some horrible, devious pervert. But in her wash of emotions the mare within her was victorious, thus she couldn’t look away to save her life.

“‘Tis most alright! We simply cannot… cannot… take thee seriously in that thing…” Her mouth watered as his heaving breaths pumped his broad chest up in and out, his muscles straining and flexing beneath his ash-colored flesh and his long locks of hair hung over his shoulders. He shuddered as she inspected his toned and powerful body, bringing back memories of his invasive physical during the first day in the Guard. Cuts and bruises lined his muscles. Training dummies, wooden spears and the wear of exercise left him with many dashing lines of red and gray across his dark figure, something Luna could not help but fawn over. Her eyes widened as she saw his hurried breaths lift and lower his abdominal muscles, their ice-tray shape dazzling to her racing mind.

“We see thine issued trousers and nothing more? What have you done with your uniform, dear King?”

“Your Highness, I’m sorry for what I did! I swear it was just a joke, Your Majesty! I’ll never-”

“Fret not, human! We beggeth thee, ‘tis nothing to fear with Us! That is not why thou hath been taken.” She corrected him quickly and hopped closer to assuage his guilt. In the process the tips of her painted hooves met the tips of his toes beneath the pile of costume she stripped off him, an electric connection that their opposing magical auras could feel. The boy silenced himself as if an authority was barking orders in his face, burying his shame beneath a layer of discipline. If the Princess wanted to strip a soldier naked they could, it wasn’t illegal. But he had never imagined that it would happen like this, even less so to him.

“We know who thou art. And We hath waited so very long for thee.” She hissed, so quiet he could hardly make out her words. Arctic winds blew up his back as she spoke to him, his masculinity reacting in the most natural way it could when a powerful and gorgeous mare was looming in his face. She smelled so sweetly and captured his attention so resolutely- how could the soldier not give his ruler every last bit of his focus? Luna was utterly enraptured by him, his uncanny resemblance to his father combining with the exotic changes brought on by demonic magic striking resounding chords deep in her soul. She needed him here, alone. Otherwise she might just embarrass herself in front of the whole nation trying to speak to him.

“Your name… it means Fallen King in human tongue.” She hummed in satisfaction at the notion, staring with such wide-eyed wonder that her guest felt somewhat objectified. Ozzy swallowed dryly as she spoke, for he wasn’t sure how the Princess would ever know such a thing. Many years ago Umbra had confessed this to him, but no other creature had ever questioned the purpose for such an unusual name. His eyes darted from side to side in strain, the moment weighing upon his chest like a great boulder crushing all the air and endurance from his frame. The Princess only relented when she realized how close they had become, the very wisps of her lips nearly touching his. The Royal retracted and moved her mane to try and conceal her boiling blush.

“An- Anyway… We are well aware of thine presence and prowess. And as such, We wish to offer unto thee a position.” Her voice took a far more business-like tone than before, sounding more akin to a rehearsed reading rather than natural speech. Ozzy detected some trepidation in her, if only because she no longer had the strength to look him in the eye and speak at the same time.

“A position?” He answered stupidly, the sweat building in his bundled fists like suspended orbs of water. She likewise swallowed an enormous glacier in thought, her wings fluttering and her eyes watering in hope that he would be receptive. Just as it took every last bit of his strength to stand there exposed for her, Luna poured all her gall and aptitude into speaking her carefully practiced words.

“We should like to recruit thee, Ozymandias of Ponyville, into our most honorable Lunar Guard.” She said diplomatically, locking eyes with him with the most hopeful and promising expression a mare can make.

“As our… personal protector.”

Author's Note

I didn't forget about her.
Shout outs to Shadowwolf.