Why is the horse blue

He knew it was a dream. He knew, because he relived it often. Though, he didn't know it every time.

A muddied grassland battlefield in the middle of the day, blood seeping into dirt, arrows whizzing by overhead. A cool wind blowing over his back, and the smell of iron on its fringes.

His first battle. The small scar on the corner of his lip tingled.

Men emblazoned in crimson tabards marked with boars were throwing themselves at men garbed similarly, but in emerald that displayed a snake.

Shield walls clashed as spears and other polearms were jabbed over, under--any gap would find steel in but a moment. Men, filthy in sweat, mud and blood, teeth gritted as they pushed against each other. It was a uniform battle, though temporary.

Distantly, cavalry from each side rounded to break the stalemate, in the classic Hammer-Anvil fashion; though their companies never reached, a lucky spear finding an unlucky man. He tumbles, flaring up the adrenaline of the men beside. They begin to abandon defense, taking aggressive and opportunistic swings at the opening, dropping their own shields. This spike ebbs through the lines, and in but a moment, it reaches Anondus' section; and the messy reality of battle comes crashing down, as men charge, lines are trampled, and blood is drawn.

Men tumble to the dirt, trying to jab each-other with pointed ends to pass their armor.

The distant call for arrows to be knocked can be heard.

The trampling sound of hooves grows closer.

Hundreds of men, stumbling, clashing, steel sparking amidst gurgles, shouts and screams. Sword and shield in hand, his spear already broken, Anondus was one of them, his windpipe already raw.

Princess Luna, Diarch of Equestria

To any who could see Princess Luna in the castle, it was like she wasn't even present. Physically, sure... but her eyes were a solid white, wide and looking to the distance, unto the sky. Sat comfortably upon her moon-marked seat, Canterlots Throne Room remained primarily empty, mind for the Thestral guards in their traditional, somewhat threatening armor, who occupied its entrances. And a lone maid, sweeping.

The Moon was risen some hours ago, as was Luna; though she wasn't always the quickest to rise, she handled her daily duty without failure, though was seemingly eager to dive back into the Dreamscape. Night Court wasn't for another hour, after all.

To grant the Ponies of Equestria good dreams and safety from nightmares, was Lunas prized duty. One she held even higher than her duties of Night Court, or whatever other... fledgling power her sister slowly dripfed her following her rather boistrous. While she had been accepted back, and granted her status, the world was... a lot different than it was a thousand years ago. It was a slow, hard process... and Princess Luna was hardly the socialite, and the Dreamscape welcomed her as it always did.

To her, the Throneroom was a distant ambience, like a foggy mirror. She sat atop a swirling mass of stars and nebulas, looking down over a vague geographical match of Equestria, and even some of the lands beyond. It hardly operated like a true map, more a... vague emulation of her feelings. Dreamwalking was like opening her emotions to the lands around her, to mingle and understand. Roughly above each little sleepy pony on the 'map', variably colored bubbles floated. The manifestations of dreams. Depending on the color, the type or quality of dream. Only Luna truly understood every type, but... she tended to avoid the Pink ones. She didn't like how often they involved her sister. She outright avoided Dreamwalking on the night following Hearts and Hooves day.

For this night, the Ponies were doing well. With little trouble in the last few months, her visit to the Dreamscape was a quiet one. An overworked Colt fearful of failure and a Filly afraid of the dark aside, she had little to do thus far.

Oh. A red one. A deeply red one.

Luna leaned closer, the Dreamscape itself shifting to bring the map closer to her, and the swirling stars she sat upon closer to it.

She hadn't seen ones like these since... before her banishment. The sore feeling of that topic was dulled by the oddity of it. Red were nightmares, deep red was... violent. Ponies did not typically dream of such violence in this age, she found, thanks to her sisters work. Gryphons, sure, but not her sisters little ponies. Though... it also seemed faded. It was hard to focus on, like its dreamer was drifting in and out of consciousness.

...Odd. The Everfree? The only dreaming occupant she knew of, following her befriending of the Twilight Sparkle, and the other Elements of Harmony, was the Zebra, though she could not remember its name.

No... this was near the Castle of the Two Sisters. This proved partially worrying, Though perhaps the location explained the severity of the nightmare. While she had no intent to return physically... it was her duty to check upon this nightmare.

Curiosity piqued, her horn taps the edge of the bubbling crimson cloud, as Princess Luna pulls herself inside the nightmare.

Anondus, second son of Nonny

Normally, Anondus was right in the thick of it, when he had this dream. Slippery grip on his blade, sweat making his clothes stick close and uncomfortable, ears ringing. But not this time. This time, it was... like the battle was happening around him.

The charge came, the thunderous impacts of hooves on dirt roiled forth--the emerald-garb cavalry were being intercepted by the crimson, splitting their charge between the infantry and the other cavalry, to devastating results, knocking riders off horses or sending infantrymen sprawling. As horses and their riders charged past, Anondus found the line around him had devolved into a number of smaller scale fights, backstabs, tackles, gang-ups and showdowns... again, like there was a five-foot gap around himself where none dared subconsciously tread.

After the charge, this is where... that brute and him faced off. The scar on his lip tingles again. But nobody emerges from the crowded battlefield to confront him, no matter how much he twists about, eyes scanning the mass combat.

But through the thick of the battle, its like the quarreling mess of war... parts, almost, for something, a soft glow emanating past several of the men, his eyes finally catching the disturbance. It was like it was... out of focus, blurry even. Andonus had difficulty seeing it, squinting at it as he tried to see it clearly. The focus seemed to shift, the light becoming easier to see, as the battle around him became harder to garner details from.

A... riderless horse. Wait, was that a horse? It wasn't shaped right. Or sized right. Were those... wings?

Why was it blue?

He could feel his blade and his shield slowly slip from his grasp, squelching into the mud by his feet; the sounds of combat around him seemed to dull and grow distant, his racing heart slowing to a steadier pace.

A creature of a brilliant, deep blue, with a mottled near-black flank. Its mane and tail, a blue-purple mix, flowed and swirled with constellations, like the night sky itself had been trapped within. Large, feathery wings stretched from its back, presenting itself with... what seemed like an air of regality.

Shorter than any adult horse he'd seen, its eyes, a near enchanting azure, reached his collarbone. Was that a horn, too? Mixing every mythological horse creature he ever heard about into one. Very original, dreams.

It approaches, stepping through the laden mud; though none seems to stick to it. Nothing around it seems to react to it, though Anondus can still hear the odd, ever-distant yell or clash of steel.

It stops a few feet from him, raising its neck and standing proud. Its large eyes slowly move up and down his battledressed form, seeming to take Anondus in the same way he just did to it. Did it just nod in approval? To him, or his armor? Andondus can barely weigh the question before their eyes lock.

A short silence.

It wings slowly furl to its side, and it whinnies, pointing its nose out at Anondus.

Its a gesture that tickles a memory, as Anondus remembers the old Mare that he grew up riding and working with on the farm. Butterbell. Sweet old thing, ate apples right out of his hand, and always let him pet it. His siblings weren't so lucky. A shire that helped with the farmwork. Maybe his dreams missed home. Anondus had been away a while.

Fairly aware of his dreamlike situation, and curious about his dreams reasons for conjuring a short, blue and oddly shaped horse... now mentally dubbed the 'Blorse', in front of him... he shrugged, stepped forward, and offered a closed hand towards its nose. Better then catching a sword to his mouth, like the status quo for this dream.

The horse frowns, chuffing at his hand, and squints at him. Seems it had some personality.

Anondus remembered he's wearing gloves. Yeah, bloody gloves might not be a great introductory smell.

"One second." Anondus mutters, peeling off the sweaty mitt, electing another eyebrow raise from the Blorse, as he offers another closed fist, now without material between their greeting.

It just looks between him and his hand.

"Good enough." The ill-trained and spoiled by a singular horse Anondus mutters, opening his hand and taking a step towards the Blorse. Its eyes widen as it prepares to step back, but it wasn't expecting Anondus' sudden approach. The distance is closed, and his palm slowly slides across the side of its snout. Wow. Soft.

His other hand touches the Blorses side, sliding up onto its back. Also soft. Surprisingly fluffy, for a horse. His right hand roams up its side, settling on its back, beginning to stroke fingers along the spine--taking care to avoid the wings. Anondus didn't know how Blorses worked, and he wasn't touching those, or the Horn.

Though, he might not end up having a choice, as the wings spread out, one of them softly slapping against his chest as it drags out to a limp extension.

On initial contact, the Blorse had frozen solid, its eyes wide. But as his hand ran along its face, and up to the base of its ears, Anondus began to slowly scratch, just like how Butterbell liked it.

A slow, purring whinny escaped the Blorse, as it seemed to melt in his hands. Alright, that works.

Now that he was standing to its side, Anondus could see the... Butt Tattoo? He snorts, which seems to snap the Blorse out of its daze for a moment, its wings snapping to its side oncemore. Same as the odd chestpiece the Blorse had, it was a simplified moon on its ass. Probably both flanks. Must be the familial design for a Noble House he saw in passing, though none came to mind. The weird necklace thing, sure, but painting your horses ass was a comical way to brag. Maybe if he was ever a noble, through some luck amidst his campaign--if he ever found the Dog and the Warcamp again--he'd do that to his horses.

Now out of its daze, the Blorse eyed Anondus suspiciously, as if it was trying to gauge his intent. It was likely supposed to be a hard glare, but the way it kept having to steady itself to not melt from his affections, its legs threatening to buckle every few moments.

...This thing. Hang on.
Anondus leans close, right up to the side of its face. Its eyes widen again, as Anondus sniffs, several times, huffing the air. Why did the Blorse smell... sweet? Like a flower garden?

"This is one weird dream..." Anondus mutters, glancing around. Most of the battle has fallen out of focus at this point, though he had to admit, this was a much more enjoyable outcome. Normally by this point, he'd be on his ass, clutching his bleeding face in shock.

Instead, he's stroking the ears and neck of a... blue horse unicorn pegasus.
"Blorcornasus." He mutters, smiling softly. It seems to pay no mind to his nickname.

His fingers trace the ear, rubbing the inside and outside, working up to the tip. His other hand, curious, spreads his fingers and softly runs up the Blorcornasus' neck, into its distracting mane. It was... oddly cool to the touch, but soft, in a different way. Like a not-fur way, a... smooth soft. Weird.

Anondus blinks out of his self-curated distraction, and looks down at the Blorse again. Its eyes are half-shut, and he could swear its smiling. Its wings fidget in place, showing a little more restraint than before.

What was this thing, anyway? A guy or a girl? The colors, mane, shape and size made him want to say female... but he hadn't seen too many horses. Should check to be sure. Tapping on the base of its neck, Anondus leans down, squinting at its underbelly.

No balls. Blorse is a she.

Leaning back up, Blorse seems to have snapped out of it again--now double taking between looking at Anondus, and where he'd just been glancing, with a concerned scowl. It pulls out of his grasp, trotting back and to the side by several paces--now it seems to be sizing him up, huffing, wings flaring out in a cautionary flap. Normally, an upset horse might be a worrying sight, for those with the foresight to avoid getting kicked or bit. Unfortunately, Anondus lacked both experience, and common sense, not that he'd ever admit it.

He can barely begin his next sentence before it lowers its head, and stomps its hoof. A chuff escapes its nostrils. Blorses wings flap, and it launches forward, Horn first.

Though it might not have been made for such a purpose; chainmail wasn't big on large pokey things getting through it. And to the Blorses surprise, Anondus wasn't a particular slouch in holding the line against charges; not that he perceived this act even as aggressive. Horses kick when they're upset, not headbutt. Anondus barely slid back, before smiling.

"Playful thing, aren't you? Kind of wish I had my own steed, like you. Probably get some weird looks though, considering." He smiles, reaching down.

The Blorse realizes too late that all its done is move itself within range of Anondus' hands, eyes wide in fear.

Princess Luna, the Defeated

Luna gasps as she blinks out of the Dreamscape entirely, the white in her eyes gone as her vision refocuses into the Canterlot Throneroom. The startled noise alerts the pair of closest Thestrals, who take a cautionary step towards their princess in concern.
"Princess?"
"Everything alright?"

The Princesses breathing is heavy and staggered. Fine a moment ago, she's already sweating.

"Princess, the Night Court begins in a few mom-" One of the Thestrals tries to continue, before a blue blur leaps from its throne, twists in place, and darts for the doors deeper to the Castle.

"Holdthecourtweshaltreturnsoon!" She yells back, quickly growing distant. The two Thestrals share a concerned look, but, leave the Princess to her... situation, returning to their station.

She barrels down the halls. She could probably teleport, or fly, but her mind was far too overstimulated for complex thought. The night halls are much emptier than the day halls, and without interruption, Luna barrels into her room, the door slamming shut behind her.

She stands in a braced, shivering stance, legs spread as she stares forward.

HE TOUCHED HER HORN!

And the rest of her! Her back, her neck, face, nose, mane, WINGS!

A deep blush was quickly settling on the Princess' face, hooves tapping the spartan floors of her room as she paced in place.

"We did not even BUDGE him! And all that wretched fool did was SMILE--"
A vision of the strange creatures teeth, pointed... carnivores teeth? It flashes across her mind, and a shiver runs down her back. She wasn't comfortable trying to decide just what kind of shiver that was. While not a familiar form, she could easily recognize armor. Well-forged armor... a knight, of some sort? The blush deepened. The Princess' rampant imagination was becoming a bigger enemy than her very memory of the dream.

"We are not like this. We do not... fluster, under such simple impulse!"
She was the staunch Princess of the Night, the hardened opposite to her sisters bright and soft day.

"To ignore us, and... DEBASE US!" Princess Luna hisses, her range of pacing now practically just circling her entire room. Her ears flicked as she recounted each way he, he...

She stomps her hoof, the clack snapping her out of it before her mind wanders further. That creature was amidst such a bloody nightmare. How could she have forgotten that? It must have been a monster. A beast, that revels only in battle.

But then why was it so... calm, when she arrived to its nightmare?

A scowl sits on her face. Perhaps a warrior like herself, which didn't bode well.
"A perverse beast, it must be--to forgo the bloodshed surrounding it, and seek such... PERVERSE findings upon ourself!" She continues to tirade, having made her way to her personal weaponsrack. A magic glow surrounds each weapon as she plucks each, trying to decide what best to use to rend that creature asunder. She must consider how her horn did little--dreamstate or not, she could not pierce his hide, and must avoid being in reach of his... her ears flicker, imagining his hand running up the bottom of her neck, scratching her chin.

She snorts, shaking herself out of it again, deciding on an oversized poleaxe, and a firm scowl to suit it.

A thousand years alone, was already a difficult task that bore loneliness to the soul. And even after, her sister and hers relationship, while improving, did not bear the same affection it once had. And to think herself so weak, that the mere petting of... wait.

She thinks of the rest of the creatures dream. Those other...

Her nostrils flare, eyes widen. Wings flash open to their fullest, and she chuffs loudly. They were RIDING those things! They looked close to a pony. Not quite, not nearly as colorful... but she understood now. Those... saddles! Pony dominators! SLAVERS! It had tried to do the same to her, to lure her in!

Having had her moment of reflection, a brilliant blue light throws open her bedroom doors again, her senses regained. This was a battle for her, and her alone; her sister would not know. She would find this creature--creatures even, if she must, and demolish them, to ensure they never get their grubby... claws? Like the Spikes limbs, but softer. Faust, they were sof--NO!

"WE ARE THE NIGHT!" She shakes her head, throwing such corruptive thoughts from her mind. She would find what she could of these creatures, and DESTROY them. A passing maid startled as Princess Luna blasted past, leaning on her cart as she caught her breath.

Anondus, Blorsicornagus Dominator

Anondus snorts awake, eyes flickering open. Drool ran down his face, and--oh, that was not a good feeling for his back. He passed out on the log, half-slumped over and hanging onto his spear. He felt tingly all over, and checked his hands to see if any of the blue rubbed off on him. Simple, self-insertable colored palms stared back at him. Guess not.

Slowly he stands, planting a fist against his lower back and stretching, hoping to work out the deeply-laden kink.

Upside, he wasn't eaten in the night. Downside, he wishes he was, so he wouldn't be the hungry one right now. The Woods weren't particularly dangerous, but still, he could have put himself less in the open.

"Man, what a dream though." Anondus mumbles through chapped lips, plucking his waterskin again, softly reminiscing on how he got the Blorse to drop to a sit when he plucked its horn from his chainmail. That was... weird. In a funny way.

"Good to know my imagination still works, considering its all I have to keep me company out here." He continues, taking a slow draw from it. As he turns to look around, a slow frown settles on the young Anondus. No, it wasn't just that the trees were larger than normal, or that he seemed to have transitioned from a boreal forest to much more humid, almost swampy area... what did he mean, to keep him company? Why was he here?

A bead of cautious sweat runs down his temple, indiscernible from worry, or a byproduct from his brain running too hot. Did he sleepwalk? But from where? To where? Why was he... He looks down, noting his armor, though it doesn't spur any memory. Everything's here. But...

Anondus spots several mushrooms around the log he'd passed out on. Of course! Fae circle. Had to be the Fae--oh, his Mother told him to keep away from mushroom circles.

...Well, time to find the way out of this Fae-realm.

"Garlik!" Anondus shouts, before pausing.

Why? What was he--oh, that Damn Dog. That's right. Unspared from that particular memory, his hands cup his mouth again.

"...Garlik!" He calls out, leaning once more on his spear, blazing onward, with no foresight to the fury of a particular Moon-Princess that was aimed his way.