Sea of Tranquillity.

Chapter 1.

Gray skies loomed high above the crashing sea as the sun slipped under the boiling horizon. Cut apart by the tossing waves and shrouded by an endless spray of blinding, salted foam, the atmosphere became yet darker as the storm raged on unabated. Violence churned the icy waters into frothing and cascading mountains savagely beating and tossing about with a deafening roar. Over the howl of the wind breaking against the stony-hard squalls of wine-dark ocean the death rattle of a mighty ship snarled. Echoing down to the silty bottom, the twisting of iron, the shearing of rivets and the crackle of bursting boilers rattled flesh and stone and water alike.

The steamship 774 of Daybreaker’s Holy Solar Navy, known to her crew as “Placation,” rolled over in the ravenous water and was devoured, spewing a column of choking smoke that was quickly dispersed by the ceiling of storm clouds. Her black hull twisted and split in the pounding waves like paper, pouring her contents into the darkness never to be seen again. The rain and the wind whistled over her torn iron skin and splintered deck boards before she fell down into the ice-water depths of the ocean.

An enlisted stallion bound to serve the Royal Sun thrashed just as his twisted ship did in the waves, kicking his boots through the murky depths to keep his head above water. His eyes could see nothing but the deep gray of the storm, the clouds and the ebony sea gnashing its white teeth at him from all directions. His little body was whipped about, thrown here and there and plunged into the most formidable cold he had ever experienced in his short life. He sucked for breath, he choked down great mouthfuls of sickening salt water and shouted with all his might to the foggy shape of a life boat slowly but implacable moving away from him.

“HEEELP!!! Agh- ACH! Help me!” He shouted between mouthfuls of chilled suffocation, the light of the Placation’s lifeboat growing dimmer as it was pulled away.

“Pull, lads! PULL! Break your backs, crack your oars! I cannae see him! Get me closer, I say!” The Captain’s hard and commanding voice bellowed with a brass instrument’s penetrating reverberation, but it was not enough. The lantern swinging with the wind was snuffed out and darkness reclaimed its rightful place over the Placation's stranded crew. The harder the stallion struggled the more exhausted and breathless he became with no progress toward his pitiful goal.

“Pull! Burst your lungs if you wish to see another sunrise, Lads! Hold fast! We won’t leave that sailor behind!” The water-logged stallion reached his shivering hand above the water, begging to both his Captain and a higher power for a spot on that cascading and soaring lifeboat. He wished only for one more chance at life, one more opportunity to hedge his bets in the great gamble of living so he might carry on. Down in the trough of the waves his world was lit only by the long tendrils of geometric lightning slicing through the sky above. And atop the tremendous mountains of the waves he could see nothing but a vast planet of empty water.

All was lost. He would surely succumb to the numbing cold, the orchestral wind and the suffocating sea.

Helpless against his fate, the stallion was subjected to one more great beating before he was allowed to die. The sea-spray mistress of the depths tossed the lifeless pony high upon a wave and brought him down onto the smoothed belly of a rock. The breadth of his body caught the fall, absorbing the punishing force like a ragdoll. The stallion was pressed on either side and forced to evacuate both his gut and his lungs, ejecting the water that had been drowning him and the porridge that had been nourishing him. Like a little babe he reflexively gripped tight to the monumental rock and held fast against the rushing tide peeling away into the surf.

The waves would surely be back, but for the moment the stallion had an inexplicable respite. Above the water, laid across a smooth and textured surface with breath in his chest again. The cold had numbed him to the pain of being so roughly handled, the unforgiving sea had taken just as it had given. With the very last of his strength he craned his neck to look upon this strange savior. And with the last of his faith he prayed that it was a true means of escape rather than his very last fantasy.

To his relief, the rock was but one rounded finger hanging off an island. A rocky, wind-whipped island glowing with far-off fairy lights like wolf eyes. The stallion shivered in hopes of being saved, he clamored forward against his rigid and unresponsive muscles until the sea washed over him once again. His grip failed, his body became just another lifeless molecule in the surf and he was brought forward by the will of the water. Only the hope of safety preserved his flickering flame, the slightest hope giving just enough faith to see him through this sudden disaster. In short order, the stallion was thrown face-first onto the pebbly shore and coated in the frigid sand of a dark beach. Finally, the ocean had vomited him out with such force it could not properly get hold of him again. The sailor lay there motionless on land as the water lapped at his boots.

His core had been chilled to a stiff and useless lump of barely living flesh. The fibers of his muscles twitched and shuddered with motion for a moment, but soon sputtered under even the slightest burden. His mind swirled about the same few thoughts again and again as his heart slowed to a bass drum’s melancholy thump, the blood simply too cold to move through his veins. Fingers, toes, ears, nose and tail had gone completely numb and still. The stallion could only roll to his side and watch as the yellow lights in the distance twinkled like heavenly stars.

“A warm bed… just a warm bed and I’ll get myself back together.” The mantra repeated in his thoughts again and again seeking some comfort in infinite darkness. Perhaps if he focused on only those few words, only on that single thought, it might shut out the cold and preserve him just that little bit longer. His arms curled in against his chest, holding onto the little life trying so desperately to flee from his body.

”Just a wink a’sleep. Just a little rest for my eyes and I’ll be fit again. Just a warm bed…” Even his thoughts stumbled over one another in confusion. His body could not even shiver as the swirling winds pinned the sopping wet canvas and cotton of his uniform to his body. Trousers, shirt, suspenders and boots captured water that slowly turned to ice against his fur.

He could only wonder whether it was delirium or luck that delivered him a mysterious figure. Out of the night, holding aloft a lantern of brilliant white light unlike the flame of oil, the cloaked shape of another pony. An upright and mighty figure that walked straight despite the flattening winds. Soon he felt the aura of light creep over his helpless body and bathe him in the blinding majesty of magical energy. His eyes hardly had the strength to open for his savior, for they were so encrusted with salt and so frozen that his lids could only split the tiniest amount for his vision.

“What luck. Already dead.” Angelic tones, mature harmonies and the single most sweet sensation of relief. The stallion lay below the rescuer and did not feel the toe of her foot prodding his ribs. He was motionless in the sand and taking the most ragged, slight breaths. In his haze he could not make out the details of his compatriot, he could only see it was but the most faint shape of a two-legged pony just like him.

“Typical. Couldn’t hold on for another few minutes?” A soft energy enveloped him and lifted the stallion from his sandy grave. Dark blue energy split the wind and kept it off his sodden fur, away from his clammy and graying flesh so he might have a chance to survive. Pins and needles and prickles and bolts of lightning ran through his all but dead flesh as he was made to ascend from the shore and stand somewhat upright for his tall and shrouded mistress. Even when held eye-to-eye with her, he could not properly see her face. In his muddied perception, only duel moons of cyan. The bright color of the sky when all is calm. The color of the heavens over his far-away homeland in the summer.

“Augh… c-... cold… so cold.” He choked out, making his savior gasp and nearly drop him back to the sand. His breath danced about her face in a cloud of musty vapor that was near-instantly obliterated by the wind. He could feel her cushion of magic waver for a moment of shock, the consuming shroud letting in the tiniest bite of wind against his face.

“Moon and stars! He yet lives!” Her voice brought such unbearable melancholy to his heart. That familiar, motherly tone. That past of joy and leisure that would never come back. The stallion choked on his breath and attempted a helpless whimper, only for a dry croak of deathly agony to escape instead.

“Cold… cold…” Was all he could say, for it was all he could feel. The penetrating and consuming ice of death had sunk tendrils deep into his chest and insisted itself upon him. He floated for a moment longer, just enough to fear that it might be the last instance of his living self. But in short order, a warmth. A painful, encroaching, consuming and soft warmth wrapped all around him and shocked his nerves. The brambles running through his veins rapidly retreated back to their ice-water mansions deep below the waves as life rejuvenated the stallion. He was breathless and unable to even cry out as the savior slowly brought him into her bosom and wrapped her cloak about his sopping wet body. She was big, powerful and abundantly heated so the frigid sailor didn’t instantly cool her fur.

“Come to me. That’s enough of your complaining.” Her voice was not entirely sentimental, as a tinge of hunger belied the musical sound. The stallion felt his head pressed between two enormous orbs. Squishy and flexible and deliciously scented breasts surrounded his head and deafened his ears, trapping every last trickle of heat around him. Had the sailor any senses left, he would have remarked at how fabulously endowed and accommodating the mare’s chest was. The stinging, burning, fiery heat of life rushed back through him readily and anxiously so that he might not succumb to nature's predatory grip.

“Hrrmm… rrmmph…” The stallion gurgled and pressed his face into the inky blackness of night. The texture of soft fur, of feminine flesh and the sound of a beating heart lulled him into security. The gap held him firmly in place, pillowy walls squeezing on either side of his skull. He was beyond shame in what he thought to be his final moments, as it didn't matter if it was a mare or a stallion or a gluttonous sea-witch he was embracing. So long as they were warm, soft and willing the stallion would pull himself into their embrace as tightly as he could. He was weightless from both the numbing cold and the shroud of magic hoisting him aloft, the scent of fur, cotton and summer night air bringing levity back to his heavy soul.

“There we are… nestled safely. Forgive the posture, but I believe you will find ample warmth just where you are.” He could not only hear the voice, but feel it in his very depths. Down where his soul connected to his physical body the voice plucked at delicate little strings. She was simply so warm, so massive and so soft. He could feel his arms being laced around her barrel by her magic, yet no matter how tightly he embraced or how deep he pushed, his fingers could not meet at the otherside. Globes of heat surrounded his head and jostled on either temple, the friction bringing an unbearable heat back to his skull and brain so he might be able to think again.

Were it not for the stupefying scent, the stallion would have come back to his senses sooner. All he could stand to do was embrace her, feel her life rushing just beneath her firm body and take in her scent. The sweet, familiar scent of a mature mare. The sugary, savory flavor of a caring monolith he could submit himself totally to. His eyes grew heavy and his dreams danced about in confusing, continuous motions. He felt her moving, he could hear the muffled sound of the storm grow faint and the creek of a door closing. But he was unconcerned with where they were going, what they were doing. He was in a weightless void of warmth completely antithetical to all things deathly. He was perfectly content to stay as long as it would allow him.

“It appears the winds of luck blow in my favor this evening. I’ve needed a good, able-bodied stallion of my own for some time now. And though you reek of coal dust and sea water, I believe a young thing such as yourself shall suit my requirements quite nicely. Are you… comfortable sharing a bed for the evening? I highly recommend it, given your state.” The voice asked him with a shudder, as if unsure of itself. Squeezing tightly as he could, sucking down her ambrosial odor and submerged in endless darkness, the stallion was in poor shape to properly respond. To him the voice was just chimes blowing in the wind. Beautiful and calming, but ultimately meaningless. Unrecognizable as speech he was meant to understand. In his state he drifted between sleep and waking, unsure which was better to him.

“Hm… nothing to say? Or perhaps your lips are frozen together? It matters little, in the end. You and I shall share the bed tonight and you may complain later if this displeases you. The sheets will need a thorough washing to remove your stench, but I shall forgive you. There are many ways a stallion might compensate a mare.” Light crept in through a small crevice between rounded orbs, a candle's weak little light that gave just enough illumination to realize the stallion was still alive. Peering up from the canyon of her cleavage, the sailor's weak eyes glowed like dull rocks. He meekly gripped onto her titanic savior without concern for her words, praying that she wouldn’t dare move him from this spot. He was unsure if he'd survive one moment away from her however, thus he felt too conflicted to assert any desire of his own.

“Let us dry you and get these rags off. Oh, how filthy you are! Has my Navy discarded all forms of dignity whilst I’ve been gone? It truly is a lucky thing you are so handsome. A dirty animal has no place in the Queen’s bed.” Her cloak peeled away in a dark room that the stallion refused to look into. His head was lodged firmly in her chest until he was both deaf and blind to the most sudden of noises and the brightest of lights. His body was painfully pulled from hers by magical energies, an airy and swirling spell ejecting all the sand and water from his fur and shredding his clothing with an electric-

”SHRP!”

“I shall provide you new clothes in the morning. Something more dignified and suitable for your fig-... my word. T- the cold has done little to hide your endowment. Bravo, stallion. I will enjoy seeing it once you’ve escaped death’s clutches.” His fur was left dry by her spell, but ragged and rough. His body was warming but so slowly he would surely die without another's heat. Inside, the wind could not eat and peel at his body until it lost every last bit of heat. But without a furnace of warmth he was too far gone to recover on his own. He gripped greedily at the mare’s enormous body drawn in silhouette by the candlelight, but once again he was completely at the mercy of a dark mistress. The stallion whined as the magic gave way and gravity reclaimed dominion over him. He was pulled down onto a plush surface, an expansive mattress over which heavy wool blankets then descended. Fine sheets felt lovely against his naked body, far nicer than the rough burlap of Navy accommodations.

“There. This is certainly the warmest bed you shall find, stallion. With my natural heat and desirable body, you will no doubt recover quickly and be of use to me. I do hope you enjoy cuddling? Even if your stature is slight, it would be interesting to feel a stallion’s grip whilst I sleep.” The stallion did not answer, as the sheets were cold to the touch. Immediately he curled into a pitiable position to seal in the little warmth this mare had so kindly given to him. His unresponsiveness clearly displeased the looming matron, as she huffed in frustration whilst she disrobed.

“Still in no mood to speak? Not so much as a ‘thank you kindly’ for my efforts?” She remained unanswered as she pulled open the heavy covers and slinked her body beneath them.

“You are a pitiable thing. But that is no way to address roya- OH~!” Haughty words were cut off by a rush of desperation. Just as her colossal weight bowed the bed and compressed the mattress, stallion hands shot forward and gripped about her wide hips. The mare squeaked when the icy-cold digits snuggled into her dark fur and tickled her warm skin, her voice peaking again when she felt the broad chest of a stallion pressed against her thigh. Her Sailor's head rested firmly against her round and soft belly, a snout pressing into the fold between her legs and huffing deeply at her scent. His chilled legs curled about her own and snapped possessively about her, securing the stallion's place beneath the covers as he shivered away.

“Moon and stars… you are… comfortable?” She asked the mound in the dark blue blankets, his shoulder sticking up as a quivering little mountain. Even his short exhalations into her groin were cold, like a south-bound wind brushing against her delicate femininity again and again with a rhythmic and dulling pace.

The stallion had finally found it, warmth. All-consuming warmth. For the moment, he was dead to the world until his body reached a functional temperature once more. His savior simply sat there with a blush consuming her features and an excited tingle worming about the bottom of her heart. She shifted somewhat in the softness of her enormous bed, reaching down to lace her fingers through the stallion's salty and bedraggled mane. He refused to slacken his grip even as sleep crept in around his thoughts. He instead sustained himself on the humid and musty scent of her groin so it might warm his lungs.

“This is a queer insistence you make. Your face would surely be more comfortable in the crook of my neck or the crux of my bosom. Down there is simply… it’s rather demeaning for you, isn’t it?” She said quietly, as if she didn't truly want him to hear. His breaths boiled something in her belly that she found rather agreeable, a dirty sort of agreeable the mare was unsure if she wanted to continue feeling. At the very least, with her Sailor guest so still and silent, she felt more secure speaking as she wished and indulging in the feel of his body. If he even remembered this compromising position in the morning, surely he wouldn't hold it against her.

“If you would like to… make love? In order to keep warm? I would-... It would not be unwelcomed. Clearly you express lust in your actions.” Her experimental question was unanswered by either voice or sudden movement. The stallion only continued to lay there near-motionless.

“I am prepared to receive, if so required. You need not even give warning.” Tree trunk legs spread somewhat in invitation, but the Sailor did not answer. She could feel that sleep was soon to claim him, better than death but still somewhat disappointing. Her insides wriggled and writhed as he breathed against her marehood, taunting it with soft lips and a limp tongue only inches away. Her salty and tangy flavor wafted up and into the sailor’s senses like a strong medicine, easing his discomfort and making it all the easier for him to disregard the near death experience he had just encountered.

However much his Hostess wished he would indulge her silent fantasies and dip boldly into her honeypot, it was clear he had no real intention of doing so. She could only sit there and think about how grand it would be if he sprung to life and claimed her at that spontaneous moment. She swallowed and snugged the comforter up and over his head, trapping him in a swirling chamber of her aroma and her coaxing heat.

“Yes… best that you rest. It is understandable one would be tired from such an odyssey. You should forget that I said anything. I- I have misjudged your intentions.” She cooed uneasily as he slept against her, subtly stroking his fingers through her fur, nosing her groin and pressing his naked body against her leg. She breathed deeply and laced fingers between the long locks of his dirty mane, enjoying the weight of a masculine body settling against her.

“Hrm… tomorrow we shall discuss it. If you are agreeable, then this exile needn’t be taxing for either of us.” Nightmare Moon crooned to herself, the blush burning her cheeks and the stallion below burning her nethers.