Waking up during Last Light was a rare treat for me these days. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. Nopony to see. No responsibilities to run a perfectly–

…is that coffee I hear brewing?

…..

Well, piffle. That’s rain off the leaves I hear dripping.

…but?

My wings are, oddly, cold. And my body is at an awkward level in bed. Not tilted back a bit from–

Why do I smell coffee?

My eyes crack open, annoyed at the oranges and reds of Celestia’s sun dipping below the cloud layer and into the horizon, giving our bedroom its off-coloured hue. The woodgrain always looked so wrong to me as a foal when that happened - like they had some kind of blood just under the surface.

It took a few times of my parents telling me that tree blood is syrup did I stop having nightmares about it. At least they laughed when I asked if that meant I was a vampire because I liked tree blood on my pancakes.

I still didn’t want to sleep in their bed anymore after I thought that.

My nose doesn’t lie. That is definitely coffee I smell. Which means…

Stretching my wings out not only confirmed Moon Shadow wasn’t in bed, but that her side wasn’t warm anymore. I couldn’t help myself and rolled my eyes, groaning lightly. “It’s too early for this” whispered past my lips, not nearly for the first time.

Sliding the blue springtime sheet off my body I laid hoof to rug and stepped to the bathroom. Not just to relieve myself, but to enjoy sniffing her perfume on the counter. All the beauty products she had were for very different uses from eyes to lips to hooves to tail tip. But what always drew my attention was the squat little black bottle of fragrance from the outskirts of Saddle Arabia.

My work as a researcher and cataloger of foalhood tales was as fun as it was strenuous. Being able to make my way from Hollow Shades to the Saddle Arabian border in unofficial record time was fulfilling. Bringing home that little indulgence was so worth it. Every formal event we attended had her wearing that scent - her personal signal to me that she was mine for the taking whenever I wanted.

Some mares wear salacious clothing like stockings with straps across their haunches, drawing eyes as they strutted around; coyly flashing a clip here or a stocking top there. Moon Shadow just announced her state to a whole room at once, hoping only a single pony knew what it signified.

The downside to my olfactory indulgence was that my cock never stopped its drop after my bladder drained. It was now curved under my belly, making my walk to the kitchen more of an uneven hip-swaying saunter.

Stepping into the kitchen I get assaulted with the proper scent of both fresh coffee and Shadown’s own scent; a unique mix of her musk, her mane-care soap, her hoof polish…

–and “that” lipstick?

There was the final red glow of the Day Ball through the west-facing window, right into my face. Always too garish, too annoying to be worth it for us batponies. But even we understood it was a Necessary Evil that had to be accepted if Princess Luna’s night was to be enjoyed.

She was sitting at the table, lots of loose papers reaching out to the sides, all getting moved back and forth as she swung her head to inspect each one, comparing notes.

What I got to enjoy about the view from behind wasn't her slightly pudgy flanks, but her long grown-out mane. She loved to feel it slap across her neck, but only for a few months. At that point it was, “It’s so heavy when it gets wet, I'll just get it trimmed”. Shortly after that she’d miss the SHORT style so she'd do that again. But then she'd miss the standard length hair and start growing it all back again.

She’d been on that cyclic kick for at least the last five years that I knew about.

Without even bothering to turn around, nevermind lift her head, Shadow reacted to my entrance. “You know, you could have slept in a little longer. I just need to get these figures straightened out.”

I laid my chin against her wing-shoulder and dragged my teeth up to nibble lightly on her neck just aside her mane. “I could say the same to you, you know.” My eyes, even tired as they were, could make out all the town and city names on the sheets: the Green Mountains, Mysteficent Forrest, Hayseed Swamps, the Forest of Leota, Mythica, the Everfree Forest and The Castle.

Shadow squeezed my head into her neck with a mono-shrug and a long, appreciative sigh. “I know, I know. But this was on my mind all day. Something hasn't been adding up for the last two months and I need to find this.”

I leaned my face past hers, twisting slightly so I could give her a firm lick across her lips. The taste of that lipstick on her gave me all the invitation I needed to turn it into a deep kiss, punctuated with a wing-slap for her rump. Always loved the little grunt coming through her nose when I did that. As much fun as it was to distract her I had to pull off and ask after a few seconds, “So, why make the coffee if you’re not drinking it? Are you that wrapped up in supply numbers that you’d deprive yourself of the deliciousness?”

A confused blink of her eyes gave me a sly smirk. “What makes you think I’m not drinking any.”

“Because, my single-minded businessmare… I’ll bet there’s more lipstick on my lips than on that mug of cold drink.” Feeling her stiffen a bit was all the confirmation I needed. “So, unless I miss my guess you’ve been up for about an hour so far, and barely knew I was behind you until I stepped up.”

I could feel the warm blush in her cheek against mine. “We-e-ell” she tried to drag out time to come up with a good excuse, turning up to kiss my lips quickly, impishly. “At least I could hear the ‘Fun Swagger’ in your step. So, you like the way I smell, huh? Or are you just carrying a piss hardon outside where everypony can see it?” That innocent-as-evil lip bite of hers was just unfair on so many levels.

Considering she heard my condition there was no reason for me NOT to run it up her spine a few times. “And, of course, you putting on THAT lipstick had no ulterior motives, huh? Glad we didn’t have any deliveries. Hard to explain why I have the most beautiful whorse answering my door while I’m passed out aslee–OOF!”

Her wing jabbing into my gut cut me off, making me smile as evilly as she was still. “You stop that. I’m not a whorse; they get paid. I’m your personal broodmare slut, and don’t you forget it mister.” She’d finally turned half-away from the table, attention on me instead of work for now. “And you can’t tell me you’d be against watching me give a tip to our delivery mare, hmm? Leave a nice ‘Forget Me Not’ whore-red lipstick ring around her plot?”

Another wing-slap on her flank and a quick deep kiss on her lips was worth it to feel her naughty smile. “That’d be an inefficient way to get that lipstick around the base of my cock, you know. Could just by-pass the middle-mare and go straight for…” I had to stop, seeing as how her eyes suddenly went wide with her lips opening in shock. “What’s that look for?”

Shadow turned back to the table, pushing her notes around frantically. “What was the name of that place? You know, two weeks ago when you got the stories about The Grazing Old Goat?” She was in detail mode now and there’s no way to pull her away from her mission until she’d completed it.

“Uhh… You mean Batlinsburgh?”

“YES! THERE!” That did it. She knew just what she was looking for and which pile it was under. How she can move all those pages around without letting them fly all over the floor is beyond me. But shuffle them, and find what she wanted she did. And, of course, she just had to explain it to me. “The ledger from Batlinsburgh’s textiles exports are off between terms. I couldn’t account for the discrepancy before. I can’t believe I missed it! It’s because of a re-use of supplies provision in the work-product tally, meaning–”

“--WAIT! Just… wait?”

Oh, sweet harmony, she actually stopped and turned to look at me. “Look, if you promise, and I mean Really Promise not to explain what this is all about, I’ll make us candied beetle popovers and fresh hot coffee for breakfast. Deal?”

That Innocent Evil Grin was back on her. I hated to love that she knew what that did to me. Her voice dropped into the growl range and she slowly told me, “So long as the cream in mine comes from you, you’ve got a deal mister research writer.”

So off I went into the kitchen, heating water, grinding beans, and rolling out dough. It's not tough to coordinate if you do it all in the right order. Water takes time to heat but beans are a snap to grind. The popovers take a few minutes, but the oven takes a while to heat up. And if you use a metal pan, heat it on the stove, put the popovers in, THEN all into the oven…

Well, there's another reason Moon Shadow loves me. Because I make her drool from her lips.

I keep reminding her not to say that in public, but she always has that innocent, “what, ME?!” face to fall back on.

Sitting at the kitchen table, looking out at the sun as it finishes its setting, sipping my coffee and nibbling on candied beetle popovers, all I could do is remember.

A bite.

A sip.

Chew chew chew….

I could hear the rest of Hollow Shades waking up: foals getting ready for classes, new parents headed to the infirmary for checkups, the fisherponies prepping for a long night on the water.

Swallow.

All the mornings I've missed her. All the nights she'd tease me about my ignorance on how her job intertwines with so many ponies and communities and all I have now are fading memories.

Bite.

Sip.

Chewchewchew….

Part of my training with the LGR was in recognizing how little I could trust my memories, especially regarding traumatic moments. Memories that are a flash in the pan for a very short time, but fade out quickly after.

Maybe that’s why I refuse to leave this tree.

Swallow.

Everything of us is here. Every memory I have left to treasure is here: every trinket, every piece of clothing, every sex toy, every scented piece of mane care and makeup…

I paused, doing a mental double-take. What happens when it’s lost its scent? Shampoo isn’t a problem since it’s still popular and made. But what about her perfume? Her lotions? Can I get more? Is it still made? Would it still smell the same?

…would it be worth holding onto that part of us? –of HER?

I rubbed my ankles against eachother, feeling her stocking material glide across the other. It was comforting, feeling some of her still with me. Trying to pull them up without tearing holes in them gave me a new appreciation for how she treated me. Their slight sparkle always made me smile; like they were charged thunder clouds, spun into tubes for her to wear and captivate me.

Sniffing gave me a new rush with her perfume on my ear and her lipstick left a memorable taste lingering on my mind.

Bite, sip, chew…

One day there will be nothing left to remind me of what she was like to be with.

…chewchewchew….

All I could do is sigh and lay my head on the table, close my eyes and cover with my wings.

Swallow.

Not for the first time, I wondered what others would think about this. Me wearing her clothes, her perfume, her cosmetic scents at home, alone.

Trying not to be alone.

“It's OK to feel lonely”, my mother told me. “--but don't ever think you're alone.”

Bite.

Swallo–

HACK! COUGH! GAG! BUCKIN’ OUCH! I just damned-near inhaled that popover! This HURTS! THIS HURTS! My lungs are about to–

KnockKnock! KnockKnock! KnockKnock!

I FROZE with my eyes slammed OPEN, ears cantered dead-forward, and lungs frozen in place!

“DELIVERY!”

Oh, sweet merciful Harmony! Who would be delivering anything to me this early in the evening?!

“Uhh… Can you leave it at the door! I'm in the middle of something!“

There was a beat pause before they answered. “The Admiralty would appreciate your personal acceptance of this delivery.”

…

...the Adm–?!

……

Oh, no.

No.

NO, no no no….

“So Ordered! One Moment!”

OK! Ok! Breathe. BREATHE!

Wow, ok now….

Protocol for a High-Level Official Delivery like this is clear; whatever I’m doing, or wearing I guess, is secondary to anything else right now. I’ll need to sign and stamp for it.

One doubled-over LOUD cough later I walked to the door with a resigned sigh. There’s no time for me to take off the stockings and the lipstick, nevermind the perfume, so I can only hope that whoever it’ll be will keep all this to themselves. My reputation with the guards was of sympathetic pity. They all knew what I’d lost and have tried to help in subtle ways. When you know you’re acting a part for the whole world, you pick up on the little pieces here and there.

I cracked open the door to see two guardsponies in dress uniforms on the porch flanking a two-wing long crate. On the right a Nightwalker who blinked at me but didn’t otherwise give away anything. He was young - an Ensign I didn't recognize.

Good Harmony was I ever that young?

The second? Well, I knew her so well I could hear her self-identification in my head. “Lieutenant Nubila Noctis - Royal Throne Room Honour Guard Detail.” Upon the return of Princess Luna and her reinstatement to Co-Princess in Canterlot, she’d been the fifth in line to volunteer for that duty. She’d wanted to be assigned to Canterlot if the Princess ever came back and she got her dream job.

With nothing else I could do about this I plastered on a straight face, kept my cool, and boldly stepped through the door frame, facing them down.

Since I was still technically Off Duty I acknowledged them each with a nod instead of a salute, and per protocol, by rank.

“Ensign.”

“Guardspony.”

Most other militaries place more emphasis on the higher ranks first, forgetting the most important thing; it’s the lowest-ranked service ponies who do the actual grunt work. They are more intimately involved in whatever is going on, so they’ll have details the higher-ups won’t. We in the LGR work from the ground up, knowing this truism. Yes the higher-ups are the directors of what needs to be done, they are ultimately responsible for making sure things are accomplished, but it’s the lower ranks who make things happen and the first to bear the weight in any official military endeavor.

….

And now the part that was going to haunt me for years ahead, I just know it.

Breathe…

Pause…

I sighed, turned my head left, and nodded.

“Lieutenant.”

“Guardspony.”

Her lips and nostrils didn’t give anything away, but I could see it in one eye - that slight laugh crease, a tiny muscle pull of somepony holding in a smile or a smirk. Like I said, I’ve gotten very good at noticing when somepony’s behaving a certain way around me. Noticing and remembering these things helps me know how I have to behave around them.

With a not-trained-out fidget the Ensign broke the lul. “Sir? We, uhh… have a package for you requiring hoof and nose prints as witnesses to the delivery.”

Ok, this seemed a bit much, but as usual, the Admiralty has its ways. Since Princess Luna’s return and taking some measure of control of the guards there had been some shuffling of resources. Some made more sense than others to us, but we also understood that She’d likely wanted to test how well we’d react in desperate situations and stress. I just hope we’d done as well as her original guards before the Battle for The Castle.

“I will receive.” The formality of the answer made sure we three recognized the importance of the delivery being made. It might sound archaic, but the formality’s served the LGR for generations.

Nubila stepped around the back of the box, placed her right hoof on the image of Princess Luna’s Cutiemark, covering the crescent moon with her hoof. One of the blue ovals in the design lightly glowed, and she pressed her nose into it.

“Verified. Nubila Noctis. Lieutenant. Courier.”

I KNOW the voice from the box! It was Commander… Whoops! Captain Obsidian Nebula! I’ll likely never get used to that. The voice for each parcel is placed with its security enchantments, making sure only the authorized ponies would have access to it.

Meaning she had to know this delivery was for me.

None of my “other” deliveries did that.

She removed her nose and hoof, stepped back, and returned to her side of the box.

I raised my hoof and placed it on the box, same as Nubila had, covering the crescent Moon. A different oval glowed, prompting me to follow suit, pressing my nose into the crate.

“Verified. Icarus. Guardspony. Recipient.”

With my part done, I also removed my hoof and nose and stepped back, giving the Ensign room to do his part. His hoof pressed down on the Moon, and the oval that Nubila used glowed. Which, I never realized, must mean that the couriers used one and the recipient used the other.

“Verified. River Shimmer. Ensign. Witness.”

Maybe it was easier to encode the delivery teams that way and add the recipient after. One of these days I might get to properly know about those systems.

“You May Open The Parcel To Complete Delivery.”

The poor Ensign reached a hoof out to the crate only to have Nubila’s head twist reflexively fast to look daggers at him. She smacked his hoof with a wing hard enough to almost hit himself in the jaw with it. Her voice growled out, “have to wait 5 minutes or the parcel is destroyed. You did read the briefing on how these secured deliveries are supposed to work, didn't you Ensign?”

The poor newbie basically cowered in place, nursing the hoof close to his neck. “Uhm… Yes, Ma’am? Sorry Ma’am. Just a…” His eyes flickered at me for just the briefest moment. “--a little distracted.” I swear, I could hear the glow of embarrassment on his cheeks. It must be his first High-Level Delivery. After all the expectations and frill, it really is just another delivery with a few additional steps.

Protocol and all that, you know.

As Nubila turned back to me I could see that smile crease had grown, making me hate what was about to happen. “So… Icarus…” Her whole head tilted down, eyes trailed to my hooves then back up to my eyes as she cocked her head. “Hockless stockings look pretty on you. A new fashion statement in the Writing Office?”

Internally I’m rolling my eyes at her. She’s going to ask without asking. Fine. “Doctor's orders. It's training me to keep attentive to my legs, since I can't rebalance with my wings all the time if something happens.” I lifted and squeezed my wings a bit on my back to demonstrate what I was talking about.

“And you bought mare-sized garter tops because…?”

The Ensign at least had the propriety to look away, pretending to not be part of this conversation, even if he’s in the splash zone.

“…because I couldn't afford the prescription versions. All I needed was something uncomfortable to wear. These were my mare's. She’d want me to use them to get better rather than just throw them away.” I made sure to look her dead in the eyes as I raised one eyebrow, making sure she knew I was talking just to her, now. “You understand not throwing something away until it's used up, don’t you Nubila?”

She squinted her eyes in annoyance, raised her nose, and snorted indignantly before giving me a curt nod. “She was a thoughtful mate, then.” That answer through her tense jaw was respectful at least.

I dipped my snout a bit before replying gently, “She was many things.”

JINGLE!

The warning from the delivery rang lightly, giving us a one minute window for me to collect the contents. I reached out my wings, opened the box's twin latches and lifted the lid, revealing two parcels inside.

First was a cube box: a deep purple with Princess Luna's cutiemark on a corner wrapped in a ribbon holding it closed. The other a thin rectangular pink, imprinted with the The Crystal Empire’s flag on its corner.

A note attached to the top-inside of the container lid unfolded saying, “Courtesy of the Royal Greeting Card Office.” Obviously placed where the delivery team couldn't read it.

So… what's inside is private, but the knowledge that something from the Admiralty was delivered wasn’t.

How… curious.

It wasn’t a difficult thing to extract the cube, place it on the thin box, and lift them together, though they had a fair bit of heft to them. Once I had them secure, I nodded a curt parting saying, “Lieutenant…. Ensign. Safe travels and Luna watch over you.” I didn't even hear them respond as I turned and headed back inside, swatting the door closed with my tail.

Looking at the closed door, all Nubila could give off was an annoyed, “Huh.”

River looked across to her, worry across his face. “So…. That's it? We're done here?”

Nubila nodded, closed the lid, turned, and lifted her side of the crate. “That's it. Real glamorous, huh kid? Though… Can't say I ever picked him as the ‘Dressy’ type.”

Shimmer lifted his half and matched hoof-falls as they headed away from Icarus’ home. “So… he's the one I heard about? Broke his wing and–”

“That's him” Nubila interrupted. “Best we can do is honour his spirit and make sure he's kept safe. As for how he was dressed, you do not breathe a word to anypony. Clear?”

“No, Ma'am! I mean, Yes Ma'am! I mean–”

“Good enough.” A quick look at the sky confirmed the first slivers of the Moon rising. “We should make the train to Canterlot on time. Once we're back and stow this you should be cleared back to normal duties.”

“Thank You, Ma'am. And, forgive my asking but… couldn’t this have been done by magic instead?”

Nubila blew a hair off her face with an annoyed puff. “I was ordered to handle this delivery personally. You just happened to come up in rotation. C'mon. We'll get a glowbug smoothie for the trip.”

The boxes I carried in felt oddly matched in weight. Not much shifted in them, so whatever it was they packed it well enough. Setting them on the kitchen table I was able to get some idea what we've gotten here.

First the cube. One pull on the ribbon holding it closed and I could lift the lid, revealing a new note covering whatever was below it. The hornwriting was immaculate in a midnight blue ink that read, “Everypony in the Lunar Guard deserves a uniform specific to their position. This one is yours to wear, publicly. Thank you for your service, Icarus.”

It was signed with Princess Luna’s cutiemark at the bottom.

A midnight-blue fabric cover with a tether rested on a lip just inside the cube. Pulling that up revealed what I couldn’t have expected. A blue and white segmented helmet, long enough to stretch down my neck to my wing shoulders. Under that was a necklace, somewhat like the Night Guard standard but with a gem at the center matching my own eye colour. And finally four blue metal hoof guards with curved blades to them.

Being a courier doesn't usually have risks, but a little protection is nice to have.

Closing that back up I slid it aside and opened the second box. It was thin but surprisingly about as heavy as the armour. Removing the lid presented me with another note reading, “Dream and she will hear you.” And this time signed with both Princesses Luna & Cadence’s cutiemarks!

All I could do was blink a few times. I've flown the outskirts of the Crystal Empire but never to it. The idea that this was a gift from both Princesses threw me for a loop.

I carefully peeled open the protective paper wrap and….

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move more than my eyes, which were overflowing with tears almost instantly.

It was… heart-rendingly beautiful.

Wood. Ebony black. The same colour as Moon Shadow’s coat.

EXACTLY her shade.

To the left was a carving of her face; her lips were perfect, her ear just right, and the gem as her eye was perfectly placed over her cheek. Behind her head was a rounded portion, showing her cutiemark in a way I'd never seen done before. It was carved into the wood with dark-silver crystal under it giving it all an elegant feel. And finally past that was a relief of her wing, pulled in. Resting.

“Dream and she will hear you.”

All I could do was stand there, dripping tears to the floor.

“I mean… Come on, Lieutenant. We all take on the risks when we sign into the Guards, right? He's got Guard Training, Guard Status, a specialized medical room just for him, and he sits in an office writing greeting cards instead of staying ready for combat? What’s so special about him?”

With only a few minutes to wait for the train, the Guards were sitting on a bench at the station. Nubila had stopped drinking her smoothie halfway through the Ensign's question and just waited him out.

And with the question hanging in the air, she waited some more.

…she waited, looking the poor, unsuspecting newbie dead in the eyes, barely moving to breathe as he grew more and more uncomfortable and fidgeted. “Ensign…” she intoned with a deadpan ‘nothing’ expression on her face. “How many fliers with a broken wing do you know?”

His eyes scrunched down, quickly trying to think of what to say. “Well, I mean…”

“For argument's sake,” she interrupted him. “Let’s just say you know… three, ok? Of those three, how many do you think fully recover from it?” She turned her head away, looking along the station’s platform, making sure they were still privately speaking. This early in the evening there’s still very few ponies making a trip west.

“Sir, I don't think–”

“That's right. You didn't ‘think’.” Nubila's head turned slowly, menacingly, back as her voice became a steadily measured pounding with each carefully chosen phrase, painting a mental image impossible to ignore. Her eyes tightened, holding the poor Ensign’s gaze as if she were grabbing him by the ears. “Because zero of them come away one-hundred percent. There's some that learn to change flight styles to cope with their injuries, enough that you might never know they'd been hurt. Some never get past the trauma and choose to live out their time as a Nightwalker, gliding from low-heights to the ground because they’re terrified they’ll break something again. But you can bet they were going through traumatizing hours in critical care wards, hoping they didn't shatter a flight-shoulder joint. Because if they did there's every chance in the world they'd either lose function in that wing or need it amputated entirely. And if they sever a ligament, a wing can get twisted around from pain panic. And if that happens the tendons will twist up, cut off the blood supply, and the wing can die too quickly to be saved.”

The ensign’s eyes had grown larger and wider, his lips draining of colour as he imagined exactly the situation Nubila was describing. Breaking a leg was one thing, but the idea of twisting it so hard it simply dies off the body was simply unfathomable to him before.

“So,” Nubila took one more sip off her drink, pointed the straw at the poor Ensign and continued slowly. “The next time you wonder about him just remember: he was not a guard enlistee. He didn’t sign up to lose a wing. The LGR offered to help him grow and we failed him. It's our responsibility to do what we can to make up for the accident that happened while he was under our care.”

Author's Note

A while ago, I had seen a recruitment poster, inviting ponies to join the Lunar Guards. It took a little hunting but I finally found it again! Many thanks to TexasUberAlles for this... because I needed to write myself out of a corner with that Ensign and this was the best way to go.

• Batpony (Pegasus)
• Saberhorn (Unicorn)
• Nightwalker (Earth)

Am I still here? Yes.. and I do have several ideas still working in the back of my head.