A Proper Send-off

by Kira

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Other, Romance, Original Character
Length: 4052

A royal soldier has just one week to go before he is sent off to the war with the Griffons for his final deployment. After a breakup and a family death, however, he's got nothing to show for his civilian life. Drinking ensues, at least for a tim

Piercing Spear, a royal soldier for Princess Celestia's new army, had been scheduled for deployment right on the front line of the Griffon war. He has just one week to go before he leaves, but there isn't anypony to help see him off, or anything to look forward to when he returns. He fillyfriend just broke up with him and his mother the last remaining member of his family, died by heart attack. Through drinking and magic he tries to drown out his sorrows, only to catch the eye of the bartender responsible for drunkening him up.

<Based on a true story, and mixed in with a story on another site. In loving memory of my recently deceased great-grandfather who was a veteran of both World War I and World War II. Remember to go hug a war veteran whenever you get the chance. They've earned it.>

Published 2013-01-23 22:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-01-23 22:40:02 UTC

A Proper Send-off

A Proper Sendoff
A Kira story, based on real events

Life had been well for Piercing Spear, a white and rather muscular unicorn, before the war. Actually, it had been a picture perfect example of the Equestrian dream. His fillyfriend, who was his pride and joy, was seemingly very close to him. Belinda was a small-built blue Earth Pony with a smoothie-orange mane. He was deeply in love with her. She was his dream pony, and he was hers. They were so happy together (or so Piercing thought) that he was planning on moving in with her into her house in Fillydelphia. He didn't have a place of his own, so this was a vital step for both of them.

At the same time, Piercing's mother, simply known as Mrs. Spear, was better than she'd been for a long time. After a recovery from a recent cancer scare, she had gotten a more optimistic view on life. She had been going out more with friends, eating exotic foods, and just living life a little bit more. She was at the pinnacle of her health, even at the ripe age of sixty.

As healthy as she was, however, this could not save her from a deadly heart attack. She died in her bed, peacefully asleep. This was the first time that Piercing's life began to fall apart. This death took it's toll on him more than anything he'd ever known. His mother had been the one to raise him, as his father had run off once he learned that Mrs. Spear was pregnant. It was a hard life, but Piercing had managed to earn him and his mother a living by making weapons for the Royal Guards. He was renowned as one of the best in the business, but not much changed after that. He made good weapons, specifically spears, which was why his name was so. He had just been called 'Child' until he found his calling. But still, the death of his mother rattled him into shoddy work, and he eventually got fired.

Then, the war happened. It was sudden and very unexpected, but the Griffon empire decided to wage war on the ponies of Equestria. Princess Celestia didn't hesitate for a moment. Within a week there were "We want you to join the Royal Forces" posters all around Equestria, along with recruiting stations. Ponies were eager to sign up, and in no time there was a large number of Earth Ponies and Unicorns sent to Griffon country on an assault mission. The plan was to take a city for an outpost with minimal casualties. It was a complete failure. All of the ponies were killed, or missing in action. It is assumed that at least a third were taken as prisoners of war.

That was when Piercing got drafted in to the second wave of soldiers. Everypony remembered his excellent craftsmanship, and wanted his help making the weapons and repairing them on the go. He was more than happy to do so, but before he left he swore to his darling that he would make it up to her when he returned. There was still a month before he actually shipped out, and he had his stuff moved in with her. Soon he left for boot camp, and then shipped off on a boat to the Griffon Empire. It was long, but easy. even in the heat of battle, Piercing was relatively safe. he simply repaired weapons and armor, and when that was done, he assisted the medics. The warfare was brutal. There were soldiers on both sides dying or getting terribly wounded. Piercing would often lie in bed crying at the horrific memories of the soldiers wounded and mauled he had seen. The only thing keeping him on the field and ready to help was the memory of his sweet Belinda and the thought of wedding bells when he returned.

And return he did, after a gruesome and excruciating eight months. He returned a few days earlier than expected, not that Belinda would know any better. She was only informed of his actions by the Royal Army officials. His mail was unable to get sent out, so he had no way of communicating with her. Piercing had come home thinking that they would spend the first few days in bed, as they did while the war wasn't going on, then catch up on life. Piercing had even considered buying a ring and proposing, taking a trip to a cathedral where the two could have gotten married without trouble, maybe somewhere in Las Pegasus.

Piercing laughed at that as he walked from the dock he was dropped off at. He'd come home thinking about wedding bells. He'd come home, instead, to find his life fall apart yet again.

Belinda had told Piercing Spear, with absolute certainty and in a stern voice, that she had no interest in waiting another year to be in an actual relationship with someone. Piercing had tried to explain his situation, tried to convince Belinda that he loved her and that he was going to be back shortly for their life together. No matter what he said, though, Belinda was having none of it. She'd made up her mind. Worse yet, Belinda had told him there was somepony else. Piercing didn't hear much past that. Feeling numb to the bone, he'd left Belinda's apartment, checked into the only motel he could afford, and had spent the last few days in a daze, getting his few meager possessions out of Belinda's house and into a storage unit.

Piercing slowly trotted along the downtrodden and dirty streets that were around the storage units and wondered what he was going to do. He was more defeated emotionally than when his mother died. Belinda was the only thing to keep him going through the war, and he was still scheduled for redeployment in a matter of seven days. As he wandered about, he realized that the only part of the town he knew was Belinda's cul-de-sac. He had no clue where he was, what to do, or how to survive the next deployment. He was in complete ruins.

He walked about until he came across a small bar with a grimy and old look to it. 'Hag's End', it was called. Not the most appealing name, but Piercing could see it was mostly empty. He decided that if he was to spend the next week weary and alone, he may as well be drunk, too. Pulling the door open, Piercing was even less impressed with the interior of the establishment than he'd been with the exterior. At least the bar itself was nice; near eight feet of long, black wood in front of what looked like a pretty varied collection of liquor and trotka bottles and taps. The rest of the place did not do as well in Piercing's estimation. Weak looking tables surrounded by varying numbers of chairs, a few beat-up looking booths. The best seats in the place by far seemed to be the sturdy looking stools in front of the bar.

Not that vast seating seemed required. Piercing knew that even the busiest of bars would not have been packed in the afternoon on a Wednesday, but Hag's End seemed especially deserted. There were only three other ponies in the bar as far as he could tell, and they were all gathered around a corner table chatting. Two of them were old stallions, drinking and merrily chattering away. The third was a butterscotch-colored mare with a slender figure and a bark-brown mane, as well as sporting a cutie mark with a bag of hops and a bushel of barley. She was included in the old ponies' conversation, and it looked as though she was also greatly enjoying herself.

Piercing shrugged and took a stool on the opposite end of the bar. He was no high-end, high-maintenance Canterlot pony. He'd been drinking in dives before, and this place seemed especially reflective of his current mood. The idea of being surrounded by young, happy, successful people making a lot of noise made Piercing sick to his stomach.

He turned back towards the bar and looked at the decorations on the wall. There were newspaper clippings from a twenty or so years ago praising this bar for it's service and great beer. As Piercing looked around the drab, but homely, bar, he could was able to tell that it had changed drastically for the worse since then. The place was at a old and weak, and the only thing that still looked suitable for customers was the booze. There was a ton of it, and all of the taps were shiny and in pristine condition. This was the only detail Piercing's depressed mind could focus on presently.

He laid his head down on the room-temperature bar and closed his eyes. He wasn't tired in a way that constitutes sleep, but he was very simply sick of looking at things. Even with his eyes closed, there were no visions of gumdrops and flowers dancing in his head. All he saw was the image of Belinda's face rejecting him. He sighed and emptied his mind.

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his head. He looked up and saw the mare from earlier standing behind the bar.

"Hey there, fella. You've been layin' there for a couple a' hours, and haven't bought anything, so..." she said in a smooth and rather flirtatious voice. Piercing suspected that it wasn't purposeful, just natural. It sounded like she was the kind of pony to always speak in that manner. Her looks suited the voice well.

Piercing realized what was happening fully when he turned towards the window. It was nearing the end of sunset, (although the two older fellows were still lingering, the drinks they had absent) and he had been there since Celestia-knows-when. He perked his head up, rather slowly, and realized that the mare was indeed the bartender.

"So, are you going to buy something, or am I going to have to kick you out of here?" she asked, not rudely, but as if she would have been forced to.

"Right, right. Um..." Piercing said, trying to focus his weary mind on something. "Give me a shot of trotka and a beer. Both stronger than an Ursa Major."

"Sure thing, buddy," she said, turning towards the taps and bottles, grabbing two glasses along the way. "But don't think I don't know that look in your eyes."

"You have no idea..." Piercing said, sinking his head back down between his forelegs. The bartender was quiet after that, save for a "Drink up, sweetie" as she gave him his alcohol. He poured the shot i the beer and downed the entirety of it in one huge chug.

"Another." he said. The mare was already prepared and was halfway through filling the next mug and shot glass. He downed those in much the same way. The more he drank, the more his head seemed to get fuzzy. Even in his incoherent thinking processes, he was careful not to flirt with the pony serving him. He wasn't stupid- he knew that complete rubbish would start coming out of his mouth, and then he wouldn't be able to stop the flow. he would make himself look like a fool in no time.

The pattern continued until well after nightfall, and on into the wee hours of the morning. Finally, he stood, stumbling slightly. "I'm ready to pay." he said, mumbling slightly. The girl handed him a check and he saw the minuscule bill of ten bits.

"This isn't right. I drank wayyy more than this." Piercing said, still mumbling, but less so than normal when reaching the topic of money.

"That's the bill." she said. "I can't go any higher."

"Give the poor drunk a break and explain why, Hopscotch!" one of the older men called to her. Piercing just noticed that they still lingered around, even longer than anyone not drinking should.

"I'm gettin' to it, Fish!" she called. She sighed and shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "Sorry, pal.

"As I was going to say, I don't charge any soldiers or guards, either active or retired, more than ten bits, no matter what they get."

"But, why-" Piercing began, but was interrupted by Hopscotch continuing her speech.

"There's a reason for that, other than respect- my grandfather owned this place and willed it to me when he died. I was the last remaining child or grandchild he had, and I was always very close to him. That was one of the willed rules, that I have a charge limit on any sort of veteran of war or guarding."

"How did you know that..." Piercing started, but then realized he was still in his Royal Army armor. It was exactly the same as Royal Guard armor, but thicker, and more durable. He hadn't bothered to take it off in all of the excitement and letdown. Still, he coughed up the bits, while trying to control his embarrassment. He had only twenty bits left. Things weren't looking good.

"I think it's time for you to go on home, sir." Hopscotch said, with a mock salute. Piercing returned it and exited slowly, trying not to fall on the way out.

"Try not to get in any trouble, ya' hear?" Hopscotch called after him after a few seconds. It was in vain, however, as he was too far off to hear.

Piercing walked along, his only company being the clip- clop of his armored hooves on the road, and the crackle of carriage wheels on the streets. He stumbled forward, haphazardly crossing his hooves left and right to balance himself. His drunken mind was going crazy, causing him to believe that the ground beneath him was tilting back and forth. He passed by a group of large pones with unusual patterns shaved into their fur. As they passed, Piercing bumped into one of them. He noticed, even in his drunken daze, that they fell unusually silent. He turned and saw all four of the behemoths glaring at him.

"What, 'choo got a problem with us or somthin', bra?" Said the foremost pony, the one that Piercing had bumped. Piercing struggled to form comprehensible words. Unfortunately for him, the words that came out weren't the ones he intended to say.

"Get a room, you buncha queers." Piercing said. His eyes widened in surprise. "Wait... no... That's not what I meant to say..."

The gang of ponies (as Piercing was realizing they were, indeed, a gang) tensed.

"You're gonna wish you wasn't never born, you son of a bitch." said a large black one in the back of the group. His yellow eyes and mane made him look, despite yellow being a cheerful color, even more threatening.

"Been there, done that." Piercing said under his breath. Adrenaline began to rush through his veins, clearing his head enough for him to get his bearings and realize that he had very few ways of getting out of this. If it had been just one of the ponies, and he was completely sober, he could easily have one. But four, and while drunk to boot? That was too much. The four ponies walked up to him slowly, giving time to run away- right into a corner between two buildings. Piercing looked around frantically and saw that he really was stuck. The only thing to do was take the beating he'd earned.

At least it'll take my mind off of everything else Piercing thought. He smiled at the thought, only goading the gang members on even more. The black and yellow one took the lead and looked down at Piercing.

"You're gonna regret acting like a little ass." he said simply. Unlike all of the other ponies, Piercing noticed he lacked an sort of accent other than a regular Equestrian one. As Piercing thought of this, the pony turned away from him bucked him hard in the chest. Piercing, resilient as he always is on the battlefield, merely gathered himself and stood tall once more. There was no hiding it, though- he had at least one broken rib, and his armor was dented inwards and pressing farther inside him. It was painful, but Piercing he strong. At least, until the second kick.

The gang leader had apparently been holding back before, because the second kick tore a hole clean through Piercing's armor. How any street pony could be so strong, Piercing couldn't fathom, but he tried to stand once more. The gang wasted no time in beating him back down to the ground. He stayed still, but they kept kicking and headbutting. It was all he could do not to cry out in pain, but he stayed silent. He lost track of what was happening in the world of flaming pain that surrounded him, but the ponies must have left because he eventually felt himself being moved away with tender magic. He closed his eyes and slowly drifted into a tearful unconsciousness.

There was no dreaming or vivid images for him in his slumber, merely nothingness. He woke in what seemed like an instant later. Looking around, Piercing saw that he was in incredibly unfamiliar territory. He was inside a house, in a large bed with fluffy pillows and blankets. Sunlight was streaming in through thin red curtains, bathing the room in a cheerful pink. His armor lay on a small armchair next him, and he saw that it had been repaired and cleaned. He sat up to a light soreness in his chest, surprising him. He was certain that his ribs had been shattered during the fight last night. Then he realized it may not have been last night. He could have been passed out for days.

He sat up and tried to stand, though his legs cried out in pretest. They were covered in bruises and they felt like they had been numb for hours. Pins and needles covered them in seconds, and the rest of his body soon followed suit. He felt as if he was rolling around in staples, but he tried to forget about it. He walked to the door and right as he reached the doorknob, it opened. In the doorway stood the flirtatious bartender, alongside a doctor.

"I see you're awake." the doctor said. "Good, good. That means I can figure out what in the world happened to you."

"All I can say is that I got the crap kicked out of me by some strangers. I don't remember the rest." Piercing said in a hoarse voice.

"Well, you're right lucky this young lady here found you or you could have died." the doctor said. As he said that, piercing realized that he wouldn't have cared either way. Death, life- it didn't matter. He hated life, he might as well hate death, too. "Well, whatever happened, you're fixed up pretty good now. It only took me a couple of days."

"Couple of... of days?" Piercing asked. "How many?"

"Oh, just five. That's got to be a record! Three broken ribs and a punctured lung, all fixed completely in five days!" the doctor said, unknowing of Piercing's return to the battlefield.

"Please go. I don't need you anymore." Piercing said. "I would pay you, but I'm fairly certain that all of my money was stolen."

"I paid." Hopscotch said. "You're welcome."

The doctor left without another word, and Piercing walked slowly to the armchair holding his armor. He looked at it and saw a long scratch on the helmet, right over over the eye arch and going off of the helmet. A chill went down his spine and he looked around the room for a mirror. He found one and his fears were confirmed- he had a long, jagged scar over his left, eye and going down his face. Somehow his eyes was okay, but it looked hideous.

"So, about that deployment..." Hopscotch said, trying to take his mind off the scar. She didn't need to cheer him up, though. He was already beaten and broken mentally and emotionally. The breakup, the death, the beating- he began to realize that the world was against him.

"What about it? I only have today left until I leave. I might as well die a cool way, right?" Piercing said, his tone flat.

"No, no, no. I can't accept that." Hopscotch said. "I'm going to give you at least one reason to come back. I won't have you die in the field if I can help it."

"What could you possibly have that I want? What could you possibly do to convince me to come back?" Piercing said. He was answered with a kiss from the pony he didn't have a chance with.

"If you come back to me alive, I'll get you a new fillyfriend. Whoever you want... even me." she said. It surprised even her, but she was desperate. If he died unhappy, it would be on her conscious forever. She couldn't have that.

"Why the hell would you do that?" Piercing asked. "Why waste your time on me? I want to die!":

"Because I don't want you to die, no matter if you do." Hopscotch said. "Whatever you think went wrong, at least you have food and shelter with me and the army. I am going to make tonight a great night for you, and you're going to go to war thinking about me. When you get back, we're going to get you a date and you will be happy. That's all there is to it. Deal with it."

The long speech stunned Piercing, but he slowly smiled. "Okay." he said. "You win. Good night and good wartime tomorrow."

Hopscotch smiled contently and looked at the clock. It was already nearing the evening, and she hadn't done a single thing for him yet but keep him alive. She had to get started.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hopscotch a the fully armored Piercing's muzzle as he prepared to board the ship to the battlegrounds.

"You swore to come back. Don't let me down." she said. Piercing steeled his nerves and simply nodded. She gave him one last kiss and he turned away right as a tear formed in his eye. He hurried onto the ship, trying to stop the tears from flowing. As he settled in his bunk, the ship began to leave. He didn't do as the rest of the men did and stand at the railing, wishing their sweethearts goodbye. He laid down and thought. Soon, his eyes closed and he slept, the ship's rocking acting like a cradle rocking him back and forth to sleep.

He woke to the sound of screaming and a shaking like an earthquake. Piercing grabbed his spear and headed out, and immediately he saw carnage. He ran onto the beach just in time to get hit with a boulder form a catapult. As he lay there, the boulder crushing his lower body and his ribs, he thought of Hopscotch and smiled, his last thoughts of him. The others found him, the ghost of his final smile still on his face.

Author's Note

This story is based on the true events of my great-grandfather in World War II, bad ending excluded. He survived, but recently died of a vascular disease. I write this to honor his memory. It's also inspired partly in a story I read a while back that somewhat resemble this story's plot. There are significant differences, though. And as for the other story, I'm afraid I've lost it. I can't link it to you. Featured or not, I want everyone out there to find a veteran of warfare and thank them for what they've done and gone through. They are the real heroes, not Superman and the Hulk. The wars made them suffer not just on the battlefield, but here at home. As I showed, there were many soldiers who came home to cheating wives and girlfriends from their prolonged absence. They deserve to be treated with utmost respect, unless they're just total douchebags. Then do whatever you want, after giving them a handshake and a salute.

-The pony who plans to respect veterans, Kira