Verve

“Save her.”

Oarkin demanded this with a trembling voice, looming over the smaller Seraph with a chaotic mix of emotions. He was shaking in rage, fighting back every urge within him to give chase. “Save my friend.”

“What?...” Arin fell back an inch, as the giant knelt before him. By now, the guards had caught on that something was amiss - spotting the small fawn dangling broken in Oarkin’s hands. The senior of the two nodded to the other as the spare galloped to find aid.

“By the Feathers! Oarkin, did you do this?!” Arin was left in shock, the larger Seraph spitting curses in Sprik above him. Umbra approached the resting body of the small doe, shaking her head.

“No. It looks as if she has been trampled beneath cloven hooves. Look - bruising.” Indeed, there were dozens of cloven-hoof shaped marks lining her body, enough to almost leave the former King sick.

“Save. My. Friend.” Oarkin’s feathers began to raise in rage, as Arin quickly guided him to lower the fawn to the floor to inspect her wounds. The most jarring of which was a massive shard of glass, penetrating from the fawn’s chest, directly into her…

Arin sighed, closing his eyes. He didn’t know how to cast a full and proper Resurrection; at least, he didn’t have the experience for it. Simply put, it was hard to find sentient creatures willing to be killed for him to test his magic. He gingerly shed the fragment of glass from her chest, demanding the two make space for an attempt at the ritual.

“How long has she been dead?” he asked quietly.

“Not more than five minutes,” Oarkin stated, ignoring her blood on his hands to the best of his ability.

That was bad, for a multitude of reasons.

“I have only brute forced revivals once before, during my ascension. I have never been able to attain that level of strength again; I will try my best, but…”

He raised his left hand into the air, channeling healing power from his ember. A mystic tome took shape in his grasp; translucent and ghostly, as if he was giving a sermon. This was the problem. For every several moments a creature has died, you need to channel a new glyph of healing; each took a page in this tome, the being’s very own Book of Life. It would undo the damage, much like antithesis - and essentially rewound the killed creature’s personal timeline. It basically ‘filled the gaps’ where their life ended, and where it would continue.

For every single page summoned, incurred a new toll from the caster. The first was simple; a small magic cost, and could be used to bring back the freshly dead with ease. This could be brute forced by an inexperienced white mage, up to two or even three pages even - without the need of the proper spell, if you had a sheer quantity of magic at your disposal.

The second page was a challenge, as the magic grew wilder and unfocused across the forming parchment - you were essentially “magically” rewriting the last few minutes of their death. Without a catalyst, this would typically be enough to leave the caster breathless at Arin’s level. It was also dangerous; if the spell failed, the book would close and backfire - injuring the caster in a wave of wild magic. Another reason why White Mages rarely help others cheat death to this extent.

The third page of Resurrection, the one this little fawn would undoubtedly need - cost more than just magic. At this level, failing the ritual would do more than just injure him; the very book could incinerate, making further attempts at reviving her impossible, even for an Arch Druid. And there were six more sheets after that you could fill with glyphs - but to write said glyphs, you needed material components to afford the spell’s magical call, and the stakes simply grew higher with each forged fiction you wrote in their book.

He finished the first page with relative ease, as King Aster made an appearance - led by the same armored buck who left just moments prior. He saw what was happening, and made a rush to join Arin’s side - much to the White Mage’s discomfort. He took in the situation, assumed the worst - and quickly interrupted Arin with his own glyph; a flash of a charm that stunned the seraph, a blast of magic knocking him back from the failed spell.

“KING ASTER! What are you doing!? You could have killed him!” Umbra demanded, jumping quickly to the reeling Seraph’s aid. His skin was seared with energy, temporarily blinded by the light. The former Umbrum gingerly embraced him, glaring pure malice at the white and gold buck. Oarkin, too, had to restrain himself from attacking, cursing more foul words in Sprik.

“A spell of this caliber should be handled by a Grand Master; I apologize, Sir Arin. I will aid you in a moment. Had you persisted, there would be no hope for this fawn.” The King sighed, weaving his own version of the spell with the green glow of his antlers. Unlike Arin’s attempt, which was ghostly and frail - this new book was glowing, tendrils of white energy reflecting the pure innocence of the spirit before him. Within seconds, he turned the luminescent sheets, resting his hoof on the third while the intricate glyphs formed beneath his touch.

With a brilliant flash of light, a shower of golden green sparks - and the singing chime of a great bell, Calia’s eyes cracked open once again. Her flesh knitted quietly, her soft, confused whimper drawing Oarkin’s approach. The volume of her life fluttered into fragments that faded in the wind, swirling over the breathing fawn once again. Immediately, the King rounded on Arin, his eyes gleaming at the potential before him.

“When General Falon requested I train you, I had assumed he meant tomorrow.” King Aster frowned, great antlers sparkling to green life again. That very same spell Arin had mastered, Antithesis, enraptured the knight’s form - ripping him from the pain with a masterful ring of a bell. The bubbling burns closed and vanished nigh instantly, fresh breath drawn into his lungs.

Despite his help, Umbra glared - leaving the King sighing. He didn’t mean to be so brash. But action had to be taken, especially to protect the lives of his deer.

“Guards. Speak with Sir Oarkin. I wish to know who caused this incident, so that they may be brought to justice. Arin.” His green eyes took in the Seraph with hesitation. “Tomorrow, you will train with me. I can not have you tending to the dead or dying without proper instruction. Your magic is strong, but in short supply. I will see to it that you make the greatest use of it. And again… my apologies.”

He bowed his head, turning to face the fawn, still clutched gently in Oarkin’s grasp. “As for you, little one - what is your name?”

Calia blinked at the towering King, freezing on the spot. “C-Calia.”

Aster nodded to the kneeling Seraph’s eyes, as if speaking to him. With a frown, Oarkin relented - giving the fawn to the massive buck. In Aster’s gentle magic, he lifted her to rest over his back; perhaps the safest place in all of White Tail Wood.

“Let’s find you a warm bed to rest in, food for your belly, and a toy to play with. How does that sound, Calia?” He smiled, much to the confused fawn’s delight.

“I-I get to stay in the Castle?...” Her little voice cracked in a sniffle, her much-too-thin body curling up to stay warm. She had no idea what happened - things were dark and… now she was here. Safe, gently held by King Aster.

“I don’t see why not! Let’s make you nice and cozy, and find you a hot bath. Would that be nice?” He turned to face her, letting her hide under his boughs.

“I have no idea what just happened.” Arin frowned, standing up with the aid of a dark hoof.

Umbra watched them go as Oarkin stood, talking quietly to the guards. “I do not wish to find out for myself. Here; let us find your room. We should try to put this behind us for now. You probably require rest after the event.”

Exiting the shop with a smirk, Tempest stepped in stride next to her little lover; who bore a spectacular new piece of equipment. A claret colored collar, of course - leaving the small pony an absolute blushing mess.

“T-Tempest, i-in public?...” Pumpkin mewled, bouncing the uninscribed tag in her hoof; feeling the gold rattle against her chest. She had to make an effort to keep her tail low, the sheer humiliation nearly overwhelming her other emotions. The lil’ witch could almost feel foreign eyes crawling all over her body. Well, if there were eyes around her to watch. It was getting rather late, at least so she thought. She lacked a watch to tell, and the endless night made keeping track of time… difficult.

“As I recall, a certain little mare of mine wished for it to be enchanted to never come off. Are you going back on your word? I would relent if you truly desired. It’s a simple magicless collar at the moment, after all - there’s still time to back down, if you really wanted.” She eyed her dominantly, taking the little mare’s breath away. And Tempest had so much confidence in her words, because she knew she was right. Pumpkin never stood a chance.

“G-Gosh darn it…” She whimpered; it was true. She did ask for this. And she really wanted it, as a fantasy… but actually wearing a collar in public was a bit intense for her. Especially when she had trouble making eye contact with ponies as it was. “Y-You’re right…”

“‘You’re right’ who?” Tempest whispered, leering over her with such authority that it made her melt. Partly from the taboo shame of it all, but also because it hit every single nerve in her body, in all the right ways.

“M-Mistress. Y-You’re right, Mistress,” Pumpkin whispered, much to the delight of the tall Unicorn.

“Good girl.” A soft kiss on her neck soon followed, right over her new, soon-to-be permanent accessory. But almost in revenge, Pumpkin tilted her muzzle up and locked lips with the tall Unicorn, melting into the syrupy kiss.

“Hey now you two, keep the public displays of affection down to a minimum. I’ve got a business to run here! You’ll attract all the right clients,” Bastrii called, leaning against the doorway with a smirk. It took every fiber of their beings to pull away from the kiss, the doe chortling from the scene.

“Tails, mares. Tails! Don’t let the bucks get the wrong ideas now.” Bastrii fanned herself with their signed invoice; it wasn’t a large payday, but coin was coin.

Pumpkin squeaked; she hadn’t realized it, but she was flagging again; the strands of her autumn tail nearly flicking over her back. She had to fight back both the blush and heat of the moment, Tempest nibbling roughly at her ear from the side of her hat. This, of course, did not help. In fact, it made things so much worse - as she almost lost control again.

“Okay, last warning. Seriously. Go bother my mom or something. I’m going to get the water bucket if you don’t. This is a threat.”

At that, the stalwart Commander relented, pulling away to snap her tail against Pumpkin’s exposed flank. “Come along now, Pet. Umbra is probably bored to death, and we still have sho-...”

Entering Eve’s caravan, Tempest stopped herself short - as Vee, covered in quite possibly a life saving’s worth of jewelry - stared down a very smug looking Eve.

“Sis?...” Pumpkin squeaked, hiding behind Tempest in an attempt to mask the collar on her neck. The Purple raised a hoof in intense concentration, silencing Pumpkin in her tracks.

“Coffee.”

“Tea,” Eve corrected, with a prideful puff of her chest - swirling her cup around with a silver spoon. Out of habit, she lifted her brush to groom her long golden hair, the loops on either side bouncing.

“Oh no.” Tempest’s eyes widened, the realization dawning on her. “By the Stars, Pumpkin. There’s two of them.”

“W-What? I don’t…” Pumpkin frowned, as Vee continued to calmly speak to the Red Tail Deer before them.

“Preening.”

“Mm… brushing, ehehehe~” She tilted her head up with a smile, “You’re an odd mayfly. Mm… Purple-fly, perhaps.”

“That’s Purple-fry to you, Loop-mane-fry! I don’t wanna hear it! No snoot!” Vee turned her muzzle up, huffing.

“Snout,” Eve corrected again.

“Snoot!” Came the Purple’s retort.

“Let’s just find another vendor.” Tempest sighed, wishing to stay as far away from the twins. But before she could get a single step away, a yellow flair of magic tugged her by the tail back to Eve’s pillow. Much to her displeasure, of course.

“Nuh uh uh! I’ll be destitute if you run off, Stern-fly,” the Gypsie puffed, Vee wrenching her attention away to watch the action unfold. “I’ve got taxes to avoid, and tea to purchase. Get over here, I managed to find your wraith oil and magma essence. They were both exactly where I left them. Inside my wagon.”

“Wait wait wait - firstly, destisnoot. We all know you’ve gotta snoot the bits in the pockets or else it doesn’t make any sense! Or I don’t make any sense. Probably. Secondly, you said something about avoiding taxes… perhaps I misjudged you, Loop-fry.” Vee’s angry glare died, and was quickly replaced with her usual tired, unfocused stare. The attentive doe smiled, rolling her hoof around in thought.

“Mm… perhaps. I am, after all, an expert gypsie of the highest degree. I think I could spare a lesson or two, if…”

Vee raised her golden credit medallion up from her pouch, Eve’s eyes lighting up.

“Now that is something I’d be willing to bleat about. But first, the less important business. Here you go, you two - highly dangerous and unsupervised alchemical components. Don’t drink it or whatever, it’s really bad for the hair.” Eve essentially tossed a gift bag towards the duo, Pumpkin just barely managing to snatch it in her muzzle with a jingle of her claret colored collar. She wiped a bead of sweat from her eyes, the bottles uncracked. If they would have mixed now, they’d have nothing to face Nightmare Moon with.

Tempest, with a sigh of relief - quickly offered the Herald medal to the doe - who signed off on a short invoice, before leaving the duo be. Fixing her tail with mild frustration, the Commander was simply happy to be free of the two crazed… gypsy-witches.

“Come on, Pet. Let’s head back to the lab, then the bedroom. You already know why.” Tempest smiled, leaving her lover a blushing mess.

“Y-Yes Mistress,” her tiny voice soon followed, the mare’s soft nose burrowing into Tempest’s side. The lewd tension between the two was extremely high by now, thank the Stars they had their own room to share.

Arin threw himself in bed, not before sharing one last hug with Umbra in the hallway. After a long, very stressful day, it was nice to finally have some peace and quiet. At least until Celestia would eventually find him, that is. He still remembered the last time he spent a full week in Silversun with her; he was shocked the bedframe lasted that long. While it was extremely pleasurable, it didn’t feel like it came from the strongest bond.

Instead, he reached for his new locket, clicking it open to watch the short memory repeat itself. Umbra’s eyes were filled with so much genuine love for him - how could he have been so blind to it before? He never even saw the signs. At least, not with his eyes settled on Luna.

Another wave of guilt hit him; because Umbra admitted those feelings started as early as… well, at some point in Erenorn. Back when she worked as his Knight and Spymaster, standing tirelessly by his side to keep him safe. Or putting her very life on the line to be a knife in the dark, so he could sleep soundly at night.

She loved him, in her own unique way. Perhaps that’s why it was so hard to spot. She wanted nothing more than to protect him; like he was her own ray of hope in the dark.

His eyes were dry, and began to falter in the comfort of the night. Tired arms sagging to his chest, too lazy to strip his shirt and old dragonhide vest - he fell into a much needed doze, before finally succumbing to sleep.

Not more than an hour later, the door cracked open yet again; the exhausted Princess slipping inside. Seeing Arin already asleep, she made an effort to keep quiet so as not to disturb him. The fact that he still wore his clothes confirmed that they both had a rough day.

Celestia approached the bed with quiet steps of her hooves, placing a leg over the sheets to slip in - but stopped herself short. The dim gleam of magical light caught her eye, some kind of trinket flashing against Arin’s chest.

Curiously, she lifted the locket up - gazing at the moving picture within. It seemed to be some kind of old picture of Arin and Umbra, probably back when they were in Erenorn-... No. It wasn’t. On Arin’s waist - a familiar blade. Sun Song. He leaned in for a sweet kiss on Umbra’s nose, the warm hoof holding, the loving emotions… she felt a pit form in her stomach.

She didn’t know what emotion overtook her. Jealousy? Obviously. Anger? A little. Sorrow?...

Her heart ached. She loved him, right? She gave him love, all the love he could need… correct? Was it not enough? Was she simply not good enough for him? One of the two Rulers of Equestria, a loving soul - she gave him money, power, citizenship, and… surely love. She gave so much to him, everything she could within the castle walls and on the road. Was it not enough?

What was she doing wrong? Or… maybe she wasn’t the issue. Maybe it was him?

No. It wasn’t him. He put his life on the line to save her sorry flank off the moon, when he had zero reason to. In fact, he could have rightfully stayed in Erenorn - yet he came back. He gave everything to this land, just like Twilight did. And he loved her, he… loved her. On her request.

It was never him. It was her. It always came back to the sunlight princess; every pain in her life started from the same source. Her. And she even knew this; her past self would have disagreed, and simply called her sorrows flukes or uncontrolled fate. She made so many mistakes, yet she never learned. Not until… not until now.

She clicked the locket shut. You couldn’t buy love. In fact, she’s always tried to do just that; gifts, luxuries, generosity after generosity… and she would pin any of her past lovers down at the end of the day, and use them for a quick ride to satisfy her bubbling lust.

Maybe Nightmare Moon was right about her. She did molest ponies. Not… intentionally. But… It's hard to say no when your lover is a giant, greedy, horny Princess. She really did need therapy, but… she was much too late for that. For this.

Turning to the door, she gave one last pained look to the lover she failed; what was one more mistake to the endless pile she amassed? And with that, the door clicked shut behind her. Leaving the Knight to his rest. Talk would come. For now, she… needed a new place to sleep. Aster did mention that the Castle had one more spare room, yet untaken when he assigned spaces for them. Perhaps it’s still available?