In the darkness, their dilated eyes reflected each other in the fire’s brilliance. His whole world was composed of the vista contained in his lover’s eye. The sound of desperate panting filled the cramped cave with the sound of their recent exertions even as a fierce storm lashed the wide world outside. But as time passed, the darkness grew heavier, the fire burnt softer, and their bodies cooled down.
They could barely see each other. The sound of the storm silenced their sighing.
In the darkness, he was once again reminded of the world outside of the cave. Of the horrors, the reprisals, the pursuit that awaited them. In the peace of darkness, free from the distracting, lovely visage of the mare across him, he could finally process all that had happened, and the finality of their actions finally sank in.
The fire died out.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the hurt, bleeding, dirtied mare with her unkempt mane staring at him from across the remains of the fire. Thunder boomed, deafening them both, and sending shivers down their spines. He could only guess what its volume masked. The finality of their actions finally sank in.
They were utterly alone.
They had forsaken all they had known, all their friends and family, all that was familiar to them. All that awaited them was a life of pain and suffering, of isolation and loneliness, of pursuit and cowardly flight. The finality of their actions finally sank in.
He opened his mouth to speak, and the voice that came out was unlike him, full of hesitance, fear, and uncertainty. “M- My love-”
The lightning flashed again, and not quite before it had passed, he was tackled by an unseen object, and at once a pair of warm, loving lips pressed up against his own. As his body slowly gave into her strenuous ministrations, he realized something.
This is what we fled for.
Love.
He returned her kisses with strength - or desperation? - beyond anything they’d ever known and together they made love in that dark, dingy cave. Then and there they shrugged off the oppressive mantle of reality, and sought to stake their claim in the vast, infinite expanse of imagination that awaited them.
And in an instant, the ominous, uncertain future, full of cruel vicissitudes and unseen turns-of-fate - and seemingly still as dark as ever - became just a bit more bearable.
The End
I sighed, and released the pen from my magical grip. I barely noticed as it landed on the table with a dull thud and fell on its side.
What a load of horseshit, I thought to myself solemnly, going over the words I had just put to the paper. I magically slammed shut the thick, battered book to rid myself of the awful memory of writing those words, but it was no use. The stupid title aspiring for immortality only served to remind me of all the woefully inadequate stories contained between its covers:
Ramblings of a Repressed Romantic, or the Stories of Star Shine, the Scholar-Warlord
Staring at those solemn, scrawled words, reality slowly faded back into my consciousness. The hard, tall back of the chair was biting into my spine, and a cold draft blew underneath the tent fabric, chilling my limbs. I was getting pins and needles from sitting too long, and my body felt out of place no matter how much I fidgeted. With a sigh, my forearms rose from the table to rub my face, partly to soothe the invisible rash that had been ailing me for a while and partly to express my frustration at… existing.
Just sitting there.
So bucking uncomfortably.
I opened my storybook again, hooves brushing against the rough paper, to the title page of the story I had just finished:
The Scholar
There was no pride in my eyes; I couldn’t even write eloquently. Yet words inked on paper could be taken back no more back than words spoken aloud. The only thing I could do was hope that one day I would have the fortune to pen a masterpiece that would be remembered for centuries.
Oh! That, and stop this horrid chair back from chiseling my spine into nothingness.
There is an intricate process that must be undertaken when a pony needs to get out of a chair. I daresay the act almost approaches an art, but my routine usually goes as follows: I gently pushed my chair from under the table with my forearms, taking care not to get any of the chair legs caught on the rocks underneath the cloth flooring. Then, I placed my forehooves on the table and shifted my weight to lift my haunches off the chair. At this point, my hindlegs would step down from the chair seat onto the ground - not much different from going down the stairs. Then, with my body in a highly oblique position, I would simply remove my forelegs from the table very carefully, for ponies are not designed for inclined planes, and I’d finally be on four firm hooves once again.
Upon the achievement of that amazing feat of acrobatics, I promptly began pacing back and forth across the room. Pacing was how I thought best, and I certainly did enjoy a good bout of thinking. At the least, it meant my mind wasn’t dwelling on my depressing inability as a writer. The tome of stories was quietly shoved into my trunk without a second thought, and out came dozens of parchments and scrolls. In the hands of my magic, the flying paper armada slowly coalesced into a shifting patchwork wall that changed as my train of thought came and went.
And then, with eyes that darted everywhere, I began mumbling to myself - the mark of any stable genius.
“Hmm… let’s go over… yes, the plan… typical battle formation… hidden mage casters… artillery… secret paths… yes, hmm… What was our latest…? I see… If they do that…. We could do this…”
With the aid of carefully-laid plans and meticulous maps, a simulation of the coming battle was gestating in my head, and I delighted in the imaginary movement of troops and the obsessive creation of strategy after strategy and tactic after tactic-
“Sir.”
Which was promptly shattered by the head of my personal guard suddenly bursting through the wall of documents. Head, not as in pony-in-charge, no, but her actual head, eyes and muzzle and all. Still attached to her body, thankfully.
“Eek!”
With a yelp, I accidentally sent everything flying with a burst of magic from my horn, and the room was briefly enveloped in a storm of paper tumbling in the air, rustling and crumbling as they went. Several had been blasted right into my face, and I struggled to pull them off.
“I… I meant to do that!”
Catching only glimpses of my guard through the thick rain, I could’ve sworn that there was a grin on her face. Some strange part of me felt I would’ve heard giggling, too, if it were quieter - who knew paper could be so noisy?
“Of course you did, sir!”
As the deluge of documents died down, I was finally granted a good look at the mare whose sacred duty was to protect my life at any cost. Not that I needed it to remember how she looked; Artemis had been in my service for as long as I could remember. Suffice to say I had yet to find a retainer more loyal than her.
Being a unicorn, she had access to a horn and all the native-born convenience that it afforded. Whereas I, trained as a formal Scholar of Magicks under the old King of Albion, was theoretically adept at casting fearsome magical spells, Artemis put her abilities to the much more practical use of wielding physical weapons - with unicorn magic giving her flexibility unrivalled by pegasi wings or even earth pony expertise.
Considering how most of the common magical spells taught at academies these days tended to lean towards battlefield support rather than personal defense, that odd quirk made her ideally suited for bodyguard work. Yet that wasn’t exactly why she had become my bodyguard. In truth, it had all come down to our shared heritage, which much appealed to our old liege; as unicorns of roughly the same age, we were a match made in heaven as far as he was concerned.
I would have been more comfortable with a competent pony as my bodyguard, honestly, race be damned. Though thankfully for my state of mind, and my life, Artemis has been more than capable in that regard. Incredible, even. I’ve also discovered that she makes for a fine conversation partner. That had been a very pleasant surprise. Although a pegasus probably couldn't have grasped the astounding theoretical implications of magi-crystal field-splitting theory as well as she had. Sometimes you shouldn't question what good fortune life deigns to throw your way.
When she first came into my employ, Artemis had been given a standard infantrypone’s kit. This was then nothing more than a dull shortsword and a looted piece of chainmail with the heraldry of my liege lord hastily painted on the tabard. She’d been a pony of few words, but I could see how loosely the chainmail hung on her lithe frame, how much difficulty she had hacking with the shortsword. I quickly resolved to commission an entirely new set of armor and weapons from a master blacksmith as a measure of my regard. I’ve made many impulsive decisions in my life, but seeing a smile light up her face that day made this one worth it.
Her weapon of choice at the moment was a handsome silver halberd - sleek, versatile, and downright lethal. In between melees, it hung at her side in a specially-designed strap. In the midst of one, there was no shortage of ways Artemis had used it in defense of my life, from toppling a heavily-armored pony mid-gallop to wrestling a pike out of the hooves of a reckless enemy soldier. She once even skewered an assassin against a wall with so much force that the shaft nearly buckled. The halberd was frightening enough on its own - paired with an incredible wielder, the possibilities for gruesome death became endless.
Adding her armor only served to amplify my admiration of her. There was just something so unbelievably awesome about the way Artemis looked in it. Elegant, yet practical, the purple set of armor was composed of many small plates linked by chainmail, and it did a damn good job of protecting her soft pony flesh by ringing around the entirety of her body, although her belly and neck remained bare to save weight. Unfortunately, that meant the armor when worn covered up her beautiful cutie mark - a large black splotch on her flanks, bearing the mark of a white crescent moon right in the middle.
Her imposing figure was of course not complete without her helmet, a decorative steel affair that still had protected her from blow after blow, with flaring neck guards and a wide opening at the front allowing unrestrained peripheral vision. You could not put a price on protection, and the quality of her armor proved that.
…honestly, I’m not all that good at physical descriptions. When I see Artemis, the only word in my mind is… well, Artemis. She is who she is. No words come to mind, only images, when I think of her, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Still, with much effort, I can describe her, but only as an entomologist might document a brand-new insect species - truthful and illustrative, yes, but with none of the vitality of life that only an artist could remotely ever hope to capture.
Artemis had a brilliant, blue coat that was as dark as the ocean’s surface and a long, lighter-toned mane that came off the top of her head in smooth waves. She had these wide, teal eyes that I could get lost in, and her large ears were fluffy and mobile, always swiveling around listening for danger. Together, they made for a cute and expressive face that somehow was still able to assume the stone-faced visage of a guard at a moment’s notice. Thankfully, the tent was a private space where she was a little looser with her emotions, where I had had the fortune to see a softer side of the stern guard. For instance, at the moment she had raised a hoof up to her muzzle, while her mouth was curving upwards as her head bobbed up and down- Wait…
“S- Sir, are you there? Hehe, you’re day-dreaming again~!”
My eyes shot open in embarrassment. A whole minute must’ve passed by while I was engrossed in my thoughts of the mare before me. I realized, too late, that I must’ve been staring at her the whole time. The playful smile on Artemis’ face really didn’t help. At. All.
This kind of thing happens annoyingly often, I thought grumpily, and sighed. Tangents. Why does the best part of my life have to be tangential?
Artemis blinked prettily at me, still waiting for me to speak.
“R- Right, um, sorry. What news of our enemies?”
“Our spies report that the Coalition army has exited the gates of Canterlot and is marching south. They believe that a sizable contingent has remained within the castle walls, and there’s no sign of the Principality’s feared elite troops. It seems that the Princess-”
Artemis’ voice broke, and there was an uncharacteristic moment’s hesitation before she continued, with a slight frown on her face.
“-the Princesses have chosen to sit this battle out.”
“Are our spies sure of that?”
“Yes, sir. Very sure. No Canterlot banners were seen in the Coalition marching column.”
Since Artemis was smiling weakly, I finally allowed the import of her words sink in:
…
…
Wait, what? What the bucking hell! All of that planning! All of that marching! All of our dangerous gambles! All for nothing? What in the world are the Princesses doing?
I calmed myself down before speaking again, although Artemis’ smile had suddenly become more than a little wry. Looks like she’s back to normal again, I thought to myself, helpfully.
“That’s… unexpectedly good news. How does the balance of forces stack up without the Principality directly involved?”
“Not good, sir. We’re still outnumbered two to one by the Coalition forces that have taken to the field. If we face them right now in the open field, even our better equipment and training won’t be enough to carry the day.
“Then we should be glad that we aren’t. I’ll take those odds. They’re certainly much better than what we expected, and I suspect our stratagems will more than make up for our lack of ponies. Any other news?”
“Yes, sir. Our vanguards have engaged in light skirmishing with the enemy, and are currently withdrawing with due haste towards our positions in the forest, as you ordered. We haven’t received word of the enemy’s response, but they have no reason not to take the bait. It looks like you’ll be able to spring your trap on them, sir.”
“It’s not just my trap, Artemis, we’ll all have a part to play… but that is good news. Really good news. This is great! Have the-”
“-Generals been summoned? Yes, sir, they have. They are currently waiting for you in the central command tent.”
Now it was my turn to smile.
“Thank you. Tell them I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll be waiting outside to escort you to them.”
As Artemis bowed reverently, her brilliant blue mane spilling out of the back of her helmet, I was struck by a strange, weighty feeling in my chest. The words blurted out of my mouth before I had realised.
“Hey, Artemis!”
She turned around right as she was about to duck under the flap, quizzically tilting her head.
“Yes, sir?”
”You know, you don’t have to ‘sir’ me anymore. You’ve been my guard for years. Just Star Shine will do.”
I never expected her to roll her eyes, but I would never have expected to hear her next words either.
“Whatever you say, sir. Just start calling me ‘Arty’ first, and then I might consider it.”
She winked at me, and left with a smirk on her face.
I blinked several times.
And several times more, for good measure.
Arty? I thought uncertainly. Well, it’s a lot cuter than Artemis, that’s for sure. Very intimate…
I practiced rolling the name off my tongue.
“Aarty… Art-y… Arty…”
But it just didn’t feel right no matter how I pronounced it. God, damn it! Why does it feel so weird?
“Sir, are you coming?”
I must have turned into a pegasus.
“Oh, yes!”
I turned to make for the tent flap, but my hoof promptly gave way, helped along by a loose piece of paper. There would be a dull ache on my cheek for the rest of the day. Carefully lifting myself off the floor, I quickly surveyed the paper-plastered extent of the damage. It would take at least an hour to collect everything and sort everything back together… but an accident born out of a magical outburst could be fixed by one too, so long as mistakes weren’t made again. I closed my eyes and with a grunt of concentration released a controlled burst of magic into the aether. The signature tingling noise of magical energy filled the tent - the sound being a wasted byproduct of the transformation into kinetic energy, I remembered ruefully. I even swore I could hear the sound of thin, oblong objects whooshing through the air. When I opened my eyes, the tent was magically spotless; I had more than a sneaking suspicion that if I looked in my trunk, all of my documents would be there, stacked with exquisite precision.
With a very satisfied smile on my face, I stepped outside.
Outside was bright. Unbearably so. I instinctively brought up my hoof to shield my eyes. I knew on a surface level that I had been inside hunched over my storybook for far too long, but even that knowledge couldn’t prepare me for the searing pain in my retinas that waited for me just beyond the flap.
My irises quickly dilated, and I was struck by a great stab of embarrassment as I realized it, in fact, was early in the evening. The sun’s rays had taken on a soft, orange glow, and it was rather low in the sky.
Which did not at all add up at all.
“Snrk!”
As the sound escaped from Artemis’ lips against her will, I realized that I must have looked rather bewildered. By all means it just didn’t make sense…
Until I took another breath, and noticed the slight sharpness in my lungs. The air had been that way since I had first stepped hoof into the Everfree forest. I could only hope that it was some passing thing, rather than something serious, but it didn’t matter - there was nothing I could do. The Everfree worked in strange and mysterious ways.
The atmosphere was unnerving, to say the least, and it was no surprise that many of my commanders were uneasy with the idea of setting up camp here. In the Everfree, every blade of grass and every mote of dust felt alive, and there was the overwhelming feeling that the forest was opposing us at every step, wanting us out. The constant string of ill omens and accidents that have happened only heightened our discomfort. And it certainly didn’t help my case that as a learned scholar of magic, I was fully aware of all the myths and legends, hearsay or otherwise, that swirled around this dark, sinister forest.
I shivered. I’d already seen too much of this haunted place, and I fervently prayed that my plan would bring us to victory tomorrow. If not, the prospect of dying here…
I wish I could stay in the safety of the tent longer.
I noticed the sensation of cold, hard steel against my coat. It seemed while I was contemplating my existential dread of this wicked land, Artemis had ordered my batman - he was more a personal servant, honestly - to dress me up, as I was now fully clad in a set of armor of my own. Of course, it was not nearly as resplendent nor as intimidating as Artemis’, but I was a commander, not a fighter. My bat-man now knelt before me, offering up my sword in his hooves. I ceremoniously lifted the sword with my hooves, even though it was heavy and unwieldy, and returned it to its sheath.
He left without a word, as was custom, leaving just me and Artemis standing there in silence. I stared at the path leading away and down from my tent; it wound past several tall flagpoles that proudly bore the multi-colored banners of the alliance, limp in the absence of wind. Beyond, the closeness of the forest opened up into a huge clearing that housed the majority of the army - tents, fires, and ponies as far as the eye could see. Yet, against the trees looming over the camp on the far side of the clearing, even this mighty display of ponykind’s strength looked feeble against that towering palisade of the Everfree. My voice was barely louder than a whimper.
“Thank you, Artemis.”
“Always a pleasure, sir.”
I hoped I had made the right decision, bringing the army here. There was no going back, after all.
The central command tent was not a particularly luxurious affair. We had been campaigning for several years, and arguably we were in a greater pinch than ever. It was the largest tent we had, and placed in the center of its admittedly cramped space was a table piled with all manners of maps and reports. The paperwork of a warlord is nothing to be relished. What interested me more, though, as I made my entrance, were the dozen-or-so ponies who ran the gamut from friends, to commanders, to allies, to almost-enemies.
Behind me, Artemis quietly took up her position beside the tent flap, out of sight but certainly not out of mind.
I walked up and put my hooves on the table, pausing for dramatic effect. I was hardly the best judge of character, but in those few seconds nopony at all dared to meet my eye. I sighed internally. My task would not be easy. First, to land that opening…
“Fillies and gentlecolts, thank you all for joining me today. I believe all of you have heard the news recently relayed by our informants?”
There were few who nodded vigorously; more simply tipped their heads; most wore apprehensive frowns still.
“We must be grateful for this stroke of good fortune, but we must remain vigilant. The road towards victory may be easier but it remains just as momentous. Therefore, our plan must continue apace.”
The response this time was much more unanimous, and I do not think there was a single pony who did not contribute their voice to the cacophony of comments.
“But, sir, it is madness-!”
“This plan is sheer insanity-!”
“You’ll be the death of us all-!”
All of their words were painful, but that last one in particular drove a lance straight into my heart. Still, even though I couldn’t catch her eye, I had a funny feeling that Artemis would support me no matter what. And that gave me confidence.
I held up my hoof, and everypony went silent. I took a deep breath, and tried my best to recall the speech I had dreamt up yesterday.
“I look around this table here and see faces both old and new; earth pony, pegasus, and unicorn; all united with the fear and uncertainty of what awaits us in the coming days. I see it in the eyes of each and everypony here, and I see it within my own heart, too. Why should we be certain of the outcome? If there is anything crueller and more arbitrary than life, it is the battlefield. Everypony here knows that the battle which grows closer with each second will be greater than anything any of us have ever lived through. I believe it is no exaggeration to say that our little alliance will be made or broken on the fields of valour tomorrow - indeed it very may well be that the fate of Equestria itself will rest on our hooves tomorrow.
“I know you all have raised concerns about my leadership about this little alliance, and these have only intensified in recent days, as we hold out against hope for a signal beyond our wildest dreams. It's a most far-fetched plan, worthy of all your concerns, and only time will tell whether it will bear us fruit or whether we will die under its shade. Remember, though, that there is motive to madness. There are only two ways we are surviving tomorrow: kneeling, shackled and chained before the Princesses, or standing, triumphant over a united Equestria. Trapped as we are between the twin behemoths of the Coalition army and the Everfree Forest, well, I’ll take our chances with the Coalition, and I’ll gladly take anything we’ve got to even out the odds.
“Let there be no talk of retreat, for it is too late for retreat. We have finally threatened the northern warlords, and they have awoken from their slumber to defend their ill-gotten gains. The Coalition will pursue us all the way back to Trottingham, until each pony here lies dead, and our little alliance well and truly defeated. The die was cast the day we agreed to join banners and march on Canterlot. We all chose to do so, not out of vain hope or naïve dream, but out of a pragmatic assessment of reality. Our little alliance is and always has been capable of seizing that victory. If there are those who lose faith, look only to how far we’ve already come. So many victorious battles lie behind us; only one battle remains.
“I trust in the capabilities of every commander seated at this table. I trust in the valor and skill of our soldiers. I trust in our mage casters’ might and our archers’ aim. I trust in the sharpness of our swords and the canter of our cavalry. I trust your judgement, I trust our strategy, and above all, I trust that victory can indeed be won tomorrow, if each and every pony does their utmost.”
It wasn’t my best speech, not by far, but it would have to do. Taking a glance around the table, I still saw that fear in my commanders’ eyes, but it certainly was not betrayed in their straight backs or unyielding expressions. This won’t only just do, this will do nicely, I thought in spite of myself.
“Fillies and gentlecolts, the odds facing our little alliance are indeed lean, but battles have been won against greater foes. With luck, we will meet again. Godspeed, everypony.”
My commanders broke out into hesitant, but unanimous applause, and with a confident bow I stepped out of the tent with Artemis close behind. I took a deep, long breath. Shaking after that speech, I cantered out to the edge of the camp and stared at the sky with her by my side. She stood silently with me for a few minutes before I felt her muzzle brush against my ear.
It sent my skin all a-tingling, and I strained to hear every word she whispered.
“That, sir, was a real good speech. For what it's worth, I believe your plan will bring us victory tomorrow.”
A cold breeze was blowing through the Everfree trees; it sent tiny leaves drifting through the air. Looking back at Artemis, I saw her eyes twinkling with pride. My own had never beheld a more beautiful view.
“Thank you, Artemis. Coming from you, it means the world to me.”
Author's Note
Hello there, dear reader! Thanks for making it to the end, and I hope you enjoyed my little story! Any constructive criticism is sorely needed and welcome ;)
