Broadhoof Files: Corporal Phalanx Spear (Ret.)by PeliikvuldChaptersChapter One: AdmittanceChapter Two: AtonerChapter Three: FirstsChapter One: AdmittanceI was laying somewhere cushy, that was the first thing I realized. Whatever I was laying on was soft, but had a tension not unlike a mattress. I lazily moved to put my hooves out to stretch, but for some odd reason they wouldn’t move. It felt like... they were being bound? My eyes snapped open, and for a moment I thought I was in a dream. I was in a place where every wall seemed to be an actual mattress, but then it dawned on me there was only one kind of room like that. Panicking, I looked down to my barrel, where my forelegs were bound across it in a straightjacket. It served only to sustain the panic that was slowly rising. “What the hell is going on?” I asked, knowing there had to be somepony listening. I tried rolling myself like a log, which in retrospect would have probably been funny if I had been watching, but right then I was terrified. What had I done to land in an asylum? I finally caught a glimpse of a door, and almost instantly it opened, and five ponies walked in. Three out of them appeared to be orderlies or guards, wearing uniforms while the other two were in lab coats. “Phalanx, I know you’re probably wondering what’s going on.” The white pegasus stallion in the lab coat said in a voice that sounded like it was meant to calm a child. “I’m not two years old, Doc.” I replied, wondering why I was in here. I was a Royal Guard for Celestia’s sake! The doctor seemed to not be affected, while the mare next to him, presumably a nurse, seemed taken aback. The doctor took a breath, and explained something a bit obvious, “You’re in Broadhoof Memorial Psychiatric Hospital, Phalanx.” “I figured out the hospital part, you know.” “You were admitted here because you have displayed traits of severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.” The stallion informed me, and I raised an eyebrow. “You assaulted three of your fellow Guards after something triggered a reaction.” “You’re joking, right?” I laughed, “I wouldn’t ever attack them.” The stallion once again seemed unaffected, but he seemed to be looking at me with a bit of curiosity. “You broke two ribs of Legion’s, gave a concussion to Claymore, and broke Sparrow’s leg.” He told me, and the fact that he knew their names informed me that either this was an elaborate joke, or was the real deal. “You were subdued by five other Guards, during which you were shouting, ‘They’re everywhere! Watching us from the damned trees!’.” For some reason, the “tree” part made me feel a lot more alert, and I felt my heart start beating faster. “You were admitted yesterday night after being administered a sedative and as of this morning have been discharged from the Royal Guard for being unfit to serve.” He informed me, and whatever happiness I had in that moment shattered like thin ice. Joining the Royal Guard had been a dream of mine for years; I had sacrificed a lot of my own time to make sure I would even catch the eye of a recruiter for the Royal Guard, not the Equestrian Guard. Now I was being told that after six weeks of actually being a Royal Guard, I was no longer one. To say I was unhappy was an understatement. “I’ve been discharged?” I breathed, knowing it would be unwise to show much more than that. “They would have honorably discharged you,” The stallion told me, seeming to choose his words, “But due to the... circumstances of your discharge, they couldn’t.” For a moment, I just sat there, feeling any purpose of my life dissipate. My special talent was strategic and tactical planning, and now I was being officially told that I couldn’t anymore. My life now was officially meaningless. “Look, we’ll get you out of the straightjacket, but you need to promise me you won’t attack any of us.” The stallion said, for once his tone seeming natural. I just nodded, so the nurse went and gingerly unbound the restraints, and after she took the straight jacket off, I waited a moment to stretch my forelegs, so as to not look like I was going back on my promise. “What’s your name?” I asked the stallion, and he smiled. “I’m Doctor Harthan Pszichiater,” He said, “You can just call me Doctor Harthan. Do you mind if we talk in my office?” “Of course not.” I said, trying not to sound malicious. He gestured for me to follow, and I walked out the door with him into a corridor that was expected of a hospital. I knew the orderly-guards were trailing behind me, but I focused on the pegasus I was following. The hospital seemed abnormally empty, both the corridors and the rooms with windows. After going through several near-identical corridors, not that I wouldn’t have known how to find my way through them if I needed to, we finally arrived at a regular hospital door, an oddity compared to the other doctor’s offices which had oak wood doors. On the right-hoof side of the door there was a label: “Doctor [Harthan], PSYD”, the surname being covered by a piece of white tape with his first name. “Unorthodox.” I thought, wondering if he got into any trouble for the abnormal. Doctor Harthan grabbed a key and unlocked the door, and I followed him in. The furniture wasn’t what I expected, to say the least. Instead of there being wooden bookcases, desks, and chairs, they were replaced with steel. A carpet was absent, and the window was covered with depressingly gray shutters. In essence, it appeared the Doctor had gone out of his way to mimic the way his patients lived, and it spoke to me. “You can sit down Phalanx.” He said, gesturing to the only nice-looking chair, an oak-wood chair with a cushion. His chair, on the other hoof, was a steel folding one. I took my seat, and after grabbing a folder from a steel filing cabinet, he sat down as well, and set his forelegs on the desk. “So, Phalanx, as I stated earlier, you were admitted yesterday after you assaulted your fellow guards, specifically you were involuntarily admitted.” He restated, looking at me with the curious look from before. “Captain Shining Armor specifically insisted upon your admittance being involuntarily.” “Look,” I told him, “I’m not crazy okay? I probably just hadn’t gotten enough sleep or-” “You had fallen unconscious after a traumatic incident while on deployment in Ponyville. After which, you remained unconscious for eighteen hours before you woke up and after a minute of conversation, proceeded to assault Legion, Claymore, and Sparrow.” Doctor Harthan informed me in a blunt tone. “But... what happened? I don’t remember any incident!” I argued, even though it seemed like what he said faintly ringed a bell. “You most likely have unconsciously attempted to avoid remembering any details due to your disorder.” Doctor Harthan calmly replied, “I believe from the reports on the incident from Legion that I know what triggered the reaction, but I would prefer not to test that right now.” “You better not.” I heard one of the orderly-guards mutter, and Doctor Harthan must have as well, because he glared at the perpetrator. “I was also told by your fellow guard Claymore to tell you that ‘You are much stronger than you look’.” That in itself didn’t surprise me. It probably wasn’t exactly what Claymore had said, but was the censored gist of it. “Are they alright?” “Yes, they were out of the medical center within an hour.” He told me, and I decided to ask one of the toughest questions I ever have. “So... How long am I in here for?” I asked, and I knew I could feel tears forming at the very edge of my eyes. He sighed, “As long as needed, until I and a group of other doctors deem that you are not a harm to yourself, or anypony else.” “So I’m stuck here in the loony bin in other words?” I asked, now definitely putting up a fight not to show tears, one that was right now being barely won. “I’ll be stuck in a padded cell in a straight jacket?” He looked at me with something that didn’t seem to be like a parent reassuring a child that everything would be okay, but rather a look a friend would give to comfort another. “I wouldn’t call it a ‘loony bin’, but yes you will be an inpatient here. Also, you won’t be in a padded cell in a straight jacket unless you prove you need to be.” “What about-” I asked, now starting to lose my defense against the tears, “What about my family? Will I be able to see them? What about Legion or-” “They actually have been requesting to see you, but due to hospital protocol, we have to wait forty-eight hours before we can consider.” He informed me, “Not that I believe it is beneficial in this case, but I’m not the administrator here.” “Is it,” I asked, now seeing the edges of my vision blur, “Is it alright if I go to wherever I am staying while I’m in here?” “Of course.” Doctor Harthan replied with a smile. I got up, and as I headed to the door, with one of the orderly-guards leading the way, the Doctor spoke up. “And Phalanx?” “Yes?” I asked, my vision now blurry. “I think you’re the only pony who I have met here who hasn’t cried for as long as you managed to.” I would have taken offense, but I felt what the Doctor meant behind the words. He was genuinely being kind. “Thanks.” I said, and I started to follow the orderly-guard to the next section of my life: being a patient at Broadhoof Memorial Psychiatric Hospital. Author's Note First things first: Credits! Credit for "Asylumverse" Material goes to Daemon of Decay! Credit for My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Materials goes to Hasbro. Credit for Phalanx Spear, Harthan Whateverhislastnameis, Legion, Sparrow, and Claymore goes to me. Onto the Author's notes: As you can see, this chapter is relatively short. I pushed myself to get it started because I haven't done much with my "Crusaderverse" (Huh, I just thought of that) stories recently, having hit a writer's block. Then, guess what is brought to my attention through Equestria Daily? The story Asylum, which grabbed my attention through it's interesting setup. After I finished reading through the current chapters posted, I learned that Daemon had been having users post OCs. Then after posting an OC in the comment section of that particular blog post, I learned through another blog post that he was actually letting people write some stories set in the "Asylumverse". So, I asked for his permission to write this, and well now we're here! Hope you enjoy! Chapter Two: AtonerAfter a few minutes of winding through corridors, the orderly-guard in front of me finally halted. “This is your room.” He told me in a surprisingly meek voice. Next to the steel door entrance of the room itself, there was a sign that read “Inpatient Suite 061.” I subconsciously figured that the first number referred to the floor, then the second referred to a specific hallway or corridor, and the last number was the actual digit of the room in the particular corridor. “The things you learn to take notice of in Royal Guard training.” I thought to myself as the orderly-guard keyed the door open. I went in after he gestured for me to do so. It seemed decent: there was a regular-looking bed, not that I would have noticed a difference if there was a bunk, and a door to what was presumably the bathroom. The furniture consisted of a steel bookcase, a steel desk, and a chair. “Dinner will be at 5 o’clock,” The orderly-guard informed me, and I just nodded. “If you need anything just say so.” “What a subtle way to remind me my room is being monitored,” I muttered under my breath. The orderly-guard took his leave, and as the door shut, I didn’t pay the turning of a lock my attention. Instead, another part of me kicked in. One that recognized that in some ways I was a prisoner of war: I would be released when it was deemed beneficial, and that they knew I could do a lot of harm if I wanted to. “Don’t think like that,” I told myself. “You’re here because there is something wrong.” I decided to take a look at the books on the shelf, and I could tell they were hoof-picked. They were generic books: the adventure novel Daring Do and the Crystal Heart, a couple of reference books such as Mareiam-Webster Dictionary, and Royal Equestrian Encyclopedia 1244 Edition. I took a glance at the desk, and to my surprise there were a few sheets of paper on it. I walked over, and I saw there was writing on the papers. “Letters,” I murmured and looked at the first one, which was in printed writing. I probably shouldn’t have done that, though, because it only served to lower my already abyssal spirits; it was my letter of discharge. By order of Captain Shining Armor, As of 0530 hours on May 26, 1245, Corporal Phalanx Spear is hereby discharged from the Equestrian Royal Guard on grounds of being unfit to serve. Corporal Spear is to be involuntarily admitted to Broadhoof Memorial Psychiatric Hospital, for treatment of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I couldn’t bring myself to read the rest of the letter. I turned it over and moved it to the other side of the desk. The next letter was hoofwritten, and I recognized it as Captain Shining Armor’s. Phalanx, First of all, please understand that I put you in Broadhoof because it was the only option other than trying you in a military tribunal, not to say nopony would blame you. I understand that you have worked at becoming a Royal Guard for a long time, but I was trying to also make sure that you wouldn’t be dishonorably discharged due to you assaulting other Guards. Phalanx, I wish you the best in the hospital. I am still trying to figure out what happened before you returned to the Ponyville Barracks. Your fellow squad mates have been a little more concerned about you than telling me whatever the hell happened beforehoof. Get better in there, Phalanx, it would make me much happier to hear you’re in a better state of mind than anything else. From, Shining Armor I knew he had his heart in the right place with his decision yet it still made me feel the slightest bit betrayed. I had worked so hard, so very hard to get into the Royal Guard, but now life had been the trickster it was. It had let me join the Royal Guard, but only for a short time. “Why is life so cruel to some, while it is kind to others?” I mused to myself, as I looked at the last letter, which was in my father’s hoofwriting. Phalanx, I got a letter about what happened. Your mother and I came to Broadhoof as fast as we could, but they say we have to wait two days before they can consider letting us visit you. Get better, Phalanx. With love, Your Dad I got up and looked out the window that was covered by a metallic grate, and I silently cried for a moment. It felt like this had all been my fault, even though I knew it wasn’t. Because of one action, one damned action, my life had hit a reset button. I was now in a place where I had similarly begun my life, granted it wasn’t the same kind of hospital, but it was in many ways the same. I was in a ward being ensured I was fit to enter the world outside, the world where everything was open and free, well, idyllically anyways. Being in the military made me see that a lot had to be done in order to ensure Equestria actually seemed that way internally. “I wonder what they think of me? That I’m like a foal who needs to nurtured? That I’m not what I worked so hard to be?” I sobbed, not caring anymore what anypony who was watching thought. I heard a gentle knock at the door, and I looked over to see Doctor Harthan standing in the doorway, the door itself being halfway open. “Mind if I come in?” I wondered why he would even ask that. I was the patient, I didn’t really have the option to say no. “Of course,” I answered, resisting the temptation to be sarcastic. The pegasus entered, and walked over to where I had my desk. “You read through the letters I had left for you?” I nodded. “You know, some of the other doctors thought that shouldn’t have been done, but in the end I did what I believed was best.” He pulled out the chair and sat down across from me. I was wondering if he was trying to get me to open up to him, being sincere, or a mix of the two. I offered no response. After a moment, he seemed to understand my message, but decided to speak again. “Can I talk to you?” “Why of course.” I replied, not caring if I sounded sarcastic. “I’m asking you that as an honest question, Phalanx, you don’t have to talk to me. You didn’t even have to let me in, and you can still ask me to leave.” “Uh huh, except you probably wouldn’t listen.” “I would, Phalanx.” He glanced towards the ceiling as he formulated a response. “Do you want to know why I decided to become a Psychiatrist and work here?” “Let me guess, because you wanted to ‘help’ ponies who couldn’t help themselves or some other load of hayseed. Or was it that you felt sorry because you knew somepony at one point who went into a mental hospital?” I jabbed and looked back out the window, enthusiastic to show I wasn’t the submissive one. “I could have stopped somepony from taking their own life,” he told me. I looked back to see he had shut his eyes for a moment. “I could have stopped them if I had been the slightest bit kind. But because of my own ignorance, they are no longer with us.” “Maybe I misjudged him. Maybe... Maybe he is trying to tell me something as well.” “What happened?” I suddenly found myself interested in what he had to say. “About fifteen years ago, I was a student in Manehattan’s High School. I was actually a pretty ‘popular’ colt, basically I was the jerk jock.” He gave a twisted frown, one that showed this was actually difficult for him. “I had great grades, was one of the best hoofball players in my school, had tons of ‘friends’, and I could easily get a fillyfriend if I asked. I could even pick on the ones who were ‘not popular’ and get half of the school to laugh.” This was sounding to me like a different pony than the one who was in the room with me, so I listened closely. “I’ll be honest, I thought that having the status I had would make sure I would make the big bits in life, and who knows? Maybe it would have done just that.” He seemed to be holding back tears of his own now. “I forsook those close to me, my family, my real friends, my teachers, anypony who could have given the slightest bit of care about me. After all, who cared about them, they were just ponies in the way.” He now was choking back tears. “Then, one day in winter of my junior year, maybe a month before Holiday Break, my sister came to me during lunch and asked me if I could help her with a problem. I like to think sometimes that I might have helped her had it been not been in front of half the school, but I know I wouldn’t have done it anyways. My ego was too large to even give a damn about maybe shrinking it slightly in order to help somepony else. “I humiliated her in the middle of the school cafeteria, and it wouldn’t be the last time either. What the problem was, I will never know, it could have been academic or social. Over the next two weeks I humiliated her time and time again, and I didn’t bother to think what my actions were doing as I saw her becoming more and more withdrawn. “It was funny to me to see my own sister be harassed, because I was the big shot. I was the colt who could instantly make or break somepony’s reputation. To see how helpless she was to my own power amused me.” “Finally, maybe a week before break, she came to ask me a question. I will never forget it. ‘Why have you forgotten who you are?’ She asked me. ‘Who am I? Am I not deserving of being your own sister?’ ” He was letting out some tears, but continued speaking. “I ‘put her in her place’ by berating her for believing she could make me care.” “Finally, Hearth’s Warming Eve came.” His eyes began to water and he paused to take a deep breath, “And...And when I walked downstairs, I went into the bathroom to find her Hearth’s Warming gift to everypony.” I noticed I felt tears forming as well, and I dreaded what he was about to say. “Hanging from the ceiling from a rubber cable was my sister. She had killed herself the night before. She had finally decided after all the harassment, most of it my own, there was only one way out. In a note she taped to the bathroom mirror, there were only four words: ‘I am not worthy’.” He burst into full tears and after a moment took another breath to compose himself. “Needless to say, my family was devastated. I didn’t bother to tell them why she had done it, because I didn’t want to admit my own terrible mistake.” I felt a lump rising in my own throat already, yet he had much more to say. “I came back to my school devastated, and one of the first things my ‘friends’ said was a ‘joke’ that I would have laughed at had it not been my own sister. ‘So I heard your weirdo sister tried to get some attention by killing herself! How desperate is that?’ That was what he ‘joked.’ ” “It was then I knew her death was my fault, and mine alone.” Doctor Harthan stared at the floor, unable to make eye contact with me, while his tears continued to flow. “A day later, I decided to join my sister. As I was about to let myself follow in her hoofsteps, my mother decided to use the bathroom.” He looked at me with guilty eyes. “She stopped me, and as my father and her took me to here, ironically enough. I confessed my wrongdoing to my parents and I knew in that moment I was in essence, their foal, who they loved very much, who was the murderer of their filly, whom they also loved. “I was admitted here, and unbeknownst to me a court case was held over my responsibility in my sister’s death. For the next nine months, I slowly recovered. I found out later that the court case had barely been won, my parents barely retaining custody of me. My records were sealed by order of the court, and when I left this place, I came out with one goal in mind. I would atone for my sister’s death by ensuring I would make others avoid her fate. For the next ten years, I poured every fabric of my being into becoming a Doctor of Psychiatry. “Finally, when I looked for where I could start my atonement, I came here. Due to my previous experience at the hospital, they were hesitant to employ me. In fact, they wouldn’t have given me a job had a certain unicorn not decided to have an episode right outside the interview office. Against their wishes, instead acting in the moment, I went out and tried to understand what was going on with her. Somehow, I was able to calm her down, because I instinctively understood how she felt. Instead of being thrown out the door, the mare in charge of employment gave me the job on the spot. Which, interestingly enough, was against the interviewer’s recommendation for my employment. “I got my Cutie Mark that day... My talent’s understanding how others feel, and being able to help them along,” He told me with tears, “But just imagine that... Had my sister not killed herself, because of my own actions, I would never have learned what my talent was; and I have to live with that fact every single day, every single moment.” I stood there, looking at the stallion in front of me. I didn’t know what to make of him now, it seemed there was much more to him than what he initially let on. I asked a question that to this day I don’t know whether I should or should not have asked. “Why are you telling me this?” He looked at me, and gave a weak smile. “I don’t know, to be quite honest. Maybe it’s because I feel like you might understand. Maybe it’s because I just need to confess my wrongdoings to somepony else.” I was wondering what he meant by that last part. “You haven’t told anypony else?” “No,” he replied, “Well, if you don’t count the employees who know me from my first visit here, my parents, or the court, no I haven’t told anypony else.” We both stood there in silence, neither of us knowing what to say. “You know, Phalanx, I think I actually understand why I told that to you, even though I would never dare to do that to a patient,” Doctor Harthan said. “You and I are alike in a way. We both have sacrificed so much to get to our dreams, and they both have been rejected in different ways. Your’s required sacrifice from yourself, and mine required both my sister’s and my own.” For whatever reason, I appreciated that the Doctor had trusted me with his story. “Thank you for sharing that with me Doctor, I think it helped in some way.” “Thank you Phalanx, for listening to me ramble on about my own sins.” He looked at me, “You can just call me Harthan, I don’t feel that you need to call me Doctor Harthan.” Harthan looked at the clock, and back at me. “I think I should be going, thank you once again Phalanx.” As he left the room, I looked out the window once again. In my mind, I felt some comfort, because I knew I wasn’t as alone I thought. I had been given a gift from life through the form of Harthan. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Author's Note Credits: Credit for "Asylumverse" Material goes to Daemon of Decay! Credit for My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Materials goes to Hasbro. Credit for Phalanx Spear, and Harthan Whateverhislastnameis goes to me. Also a big thank you to Kaidan for taking the time to help revise the chapter! You are awesome and deserve this Derpy Hooves picture! On to my notes: This chapter was originally going to be a bit more about how Phalanx is reacting to his situation, and maybe even a glimpse into what might have occurred, but I realized I wanted Harthan to have a story to tell Phalanx. A way to show that he was not just another pony hired to treat patients, but rather, that he does so with a set purpose in mind. It also was really tough for me to write, in terms of the darkness. I took a couple of minutes in one part just to get up and get a drink of water. Hope you enjoy! Chapter Three: FirstsFor the first time in many months, I felt bored. Being part of the Royal Guard ensured you spent no moment unoccupied, but right now I couldn’t do anything that I normally would do in my spare time. I sighed, tapping my right hindleg on the cold, sterile floor. What were my squad mates up to? Was there just another replacement for me, one who they would get used to? Will my name no longer be recognized? My thoughts were going in that direction because during training, and just in general, you were constantly reminded there were a dozen other stallions who would eagerly take your place. As my thoughts drifted back to training, I gave a small smile as I remembered the site we were trained. The place had no name, as it technically didn’t exist. Officially, Royal Guards were trained on the Canterlot Palace’s grounds, but as soon as you were considered, and you agreed to join, it quickly became obvious that was a half-truth. Your first day was basically spent signing paperwork that stated you agreed that you would not disclose any information not approved by the Captain of the Royal Guard. After that, you were “released” to go home for the day, only to be ambushed by actual Royal Guards. Interestingly enough, the ones who would ambush me were Legion, Sparrow, and Claymore. When you regained consciousness, you were outside a facility in the middle of the forest, with Canterlot almost directly above. “They abandoned you there,” A voice whispered in my ear, and I jerked up, looking for who had just said that. There was nothing different in the room, but I knew for a fact I heard a voice. Measuring my steps carefully, I walked towards a wall, and looked for whatever said that. Once again, nothing out of the ordinary awaited me. “You can’t find me. You know that, right?” I snapped my eyes around the room, looking for whatever the hell said that. “Who’s there?” I demanded, and then the voice laughed. I noticed it sounded as if multiple ponies were speaking the same thing at once. “My, my, Phalanx. Have you forgotten me so easily?” the sly voice said with a predominantly mare’s voice. “Who. The. Hell. ARE YOU?” “I am what you are.” Such a specific answer, I thought sarcastically. “I am speaking the truth, Phalanx,” the voice stated, as if it could hear my thoughts. “How can you hear what I’m thinking?” I inquired, my curiosity outweighing my defensiveness. “Because I am what you are.” With that, the surroundings changed to a vastly different room. Instead of the cold, ceramic, hospital floor, there were wooden floorboards that were dark gray. The ceiling, instead of being flat, was obviously a roof, and there was a regular, non-grated, window. The room itself, however, seemed very organized. There was a bed that seemed as if it had been taken directly from a display, the sheets perfectly flat. The bookcase in the room was filled to the brim with volumes of knowledge, but they were all sorted alphabetically. There was a desk that was tidy, there was an ink and quill to the side and a perfect stack of paper. I knew what this room was; it was my own bedroom in my parent’s house. “How?” I asked fearfully. “Oh don’t be ridiculous, Phalanx,” The voice huffed. “It isn’t your room; it’s your memories!” The voice said the last part a bit too eagerly. A door swung open, and who else would walk in but a younger version of myself. I realized when this had occurred: it had been the spring of my freshcolt year at high school. What’s the purpose of this? I asked in my thoughts, unsure if it would be a wise idea to vocalize. “You can speak, you know,” The voice commented drolly. “My purpose is to show you what you once were.” The younger me let out a sigh, took a book from a shelf, and set it on the desk. On the cover it read simply: “Equestrian Military History.” I heard hoofsteps that shouldn’t have been there, because I remember nopony interrupted me. “Until next time, Phalanx.” My surroundings jerked back to the hospital room, and I was lying on the floor. Harthan was standing not two hoofsteps away, concern creasing every part of his face. Behind him was a rather smug-looking doctor along with two of the orderly-guards. “Phalanx, are you alright?” Harthan asked hurriedly. I just nodded, noticing the two nurses in the doorway and Harthan glanced over and shook his head, making them leave. “Well, Doctor, I believe your life story worked wonders,” The other doctor commented venomously. I instantly decided I disliked the doctor, basing my judgement on those nine words. “Yeah it did,” I agreed, proceeding to roll myself back up to my legs. “It actually made me somewhat appreciate Doctor Harthan.” The unnamed doctor looked at me with disdain, but I ignored it. Harthan, on the other hoof, seemed to wince slightly at my response. I realized he wasn’t going to defend himself against this doctor, for whatever reason; so, I decided to do it for him. “Any other assessments?” I asked the doctor. The doctor looked at me with more fury than I had ever seen a pony have, but he finally sighed. “Come on, Roller, let’s leave the Doctor to his patient.” The two walked out, and I looked back at Harthan who seemed to be in a state of shock, one eye half open. “So, if I may ask, who was that?” Harthan realized I was still there, and he looked at me. “That’s another story for another time. I think right now I have tried my luck as it is.” My mind seemed to start paying attention to the rest of my body again, and the scent of food hung in the air. “So... Are we going to just stand here or are we going to eat?” I asked, sharing the eagerness he had to get off the topic. Harthan gestured to a tray on my desk, and I went over and sat down. The “food” didn’t look exactly pretty, it seemed like a mush of a dozen different things. I didn’t mind, though, I had far worse before, the “Ration Bar” coming to mind. “Phalanx, could you describe to me what was occurring while you were on the ground?” Harthan asked and I turned to look at him. “I’m not quite sure really, first I was-” Harthan cut me off, “I think I know what triggered it, Phalanx, and I don’t want to trigger it again. Can you just describe to me what started happening when you noticed things were amiss?” “There was this voice, or better stated, a bunch of voices. But nopony was in here, and when I came to the wall, I was in my bedroom. I was standing there, and I realized it was a memory of an afternoon a few years back. Then, I heard hoofsteps that shouldn’t have been there, and next thing you know I am on the ground.” He nodded, and glanced at the food. “I hope it’s not too bad, they are very picky about what they let patients eat.” “It’s fine,” I replied. “Granted, I would like an MRE a little more, but I am okay with it.” I took the opportunity to eat some of the mush, which seemed to taste like artificial cheese. A minute later, I had swallowed the last of it, and when I turned back again, Harthan was still there. His head was inclined towards the floor, his eyes staring at a tile in deep thought. His eyes snapped towards me, and he raised his head. “Can I have a story for a story?” “Of course.” “What made you interested in the Royal Guard?” I sighed, I had been asked this twice before. Once by my high school counselor, and then another time by the recruiting officer. Both times they seemed pleasantly surprised by my response, because it actually wasn’t the result of some colthood fantasy. “In one word: Stalliongrad.” “What about it?” “Well to start off, I grew up in Prancesylvania, my parents were both, and still are, the proud owners of a 93-acre oat farm. I had no military history in my family whatsoever, mind you, my family had settled there two hundred years before. For the first few years of my life, I helped on the farm, and was generally bored. “One day, when I was four in the middle of summer, my father got an invitation to an agricultural convention in Stalliongrad. My parents were ecstatic at the invitation, however I had a foalhood tantrum. As much as I found the farm boring, I had never gone anywhere else more than fifteen miles away, and I didn’t want to go. “We went anyways, obviously, and when we got there, it seemed exactly how I pictured it,” I recalled. “There were boring gray buildings, it was cold, and there were more ponies than I had ever seen. My mother decided to see if we could find a tour of the city, so as to possibly grasp my interest. “It was boring, for the most part. There was a spiel about how Stalliongrad was one of the largest cities, and how it was the northernmost city in Equestria. They went on about agriculture and all this other stuff, and the tour ended. On our way back to where we were staying, we passed a statue.” “The Mareayev Monument, I presume?” Harthan asked, and I nodded. “I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I stopped and stared at it. In the middle of this boring city, was a statue that seemed to not fit in. What really got me though, was the stallion in armor. Everypony else, and even him, seemed to be exhausted and disheartened, but the armored one seemed to have resolve. “I asked my mother what the statue was, and she replied with ‘You wouldn’t understand’. But I wanted to know what it was, and I asked again. She bit her lip, and then told me ‘Here, I’ll see if they have something on it in the library’. “We actually went to the library, and she kept her promise. She came back with a book: The Battle of Stalliongrad. She warned me that I probably shouldn’t be reading it, and that I wouldn’t understand a lot of the words. I disagreed though, and when we returned to the hotel where we were staying I opened the book up and started looking through it. “A lot of the wording went over my head, but I understood what happened at a basic level. That there had been a terrible conflict, and that the city of Stalliongrad had been left alone to survive. It amazed me how the ones who were in there kept steadfast and didn’t surrender, how they resisted and refused to back down. “From that day forward, my interest grew in the battle until I learned a few months later, after asking my parents countless questions about what certain words meant, of the Royal Guard. That they had been the ones to gather everypony together, and they had organized a way to make the Griffins leave. “I wanted to know how they could do that, how they could not give up. So, for the next fourteen years, I poured everything I had into becoming a Royal Guard,” I finished, relieved to have to not go on and on any more. “It was curiosity that drove you, not envy or desire.” Harthan commented. “Pretty much, though later on when I discovered my talent I also wanted to join them to be able to give my own abilities for use.” “Curiosity, not envy.” Harthan breathed, and he had the slightest frown. “Something you want to tell me?” “Not yet, I want to have more confidence on it.” “On what?” Harthan looked up to the ceiling, and started to formulate a response when the door swinging open interrupted him. “Lights out in five minutes.” An orderly informed me, and Harthan looked relieved for some reason. “I will see you tomorrow, Phalanx,” Harthan said, and hurried out. I was frustrated, because there was something he knew but wouldn’t tell me. What was it? Sighing, I decided to lay down and try to get some sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep.
Chapter One: AdmittanceI was laying somewhere cushy, that was the first thing I realized. Whatever I was laying on was soft, but had a tension not unlike a mattress. I lazily moved to put my hooves out to stretch, but for some odd reason they wouldn’t move. It felt like... they were being bound? My eyes snapped open, and for a moment I thought I was in a dream. I was in a place where every wall seemed to be an actual mattress, but then it dawned on me there was only one kind of room like that. Panicking, I looked down to my barrel, where my forelegs were bound across it in a straightjacket. It served only to sustain the panic that was slowly rising. “What the hell is going on?” I asked, knowing there had to be somepony listening. I tried rolling myself like a log, which in retrospect would have probably been funny if I had been watching, but right then I was terrified. What had I done to land in an asylum? I finally caught a glimpse of a door, and almost instantly it opened, and five ponies walked in. Three out of them appeared to be orderlies or guards, wearing uniforms while the other two were in lab coats. “Phalanx, I know you’re probably wondering what’s going on.” The white pegasus stallion in the lab coat said in a voice that sounded like it was meant to calm a child. “I’m not two years old, Doc.” I replied, wondering why I was in here. I was a Royal Guard for Celestia’s sake! The doctor seemed to not be affected, while the mare next to him, presumably a nurse, seemed taken aback. The doctor took a breath, and explained something a bit obvious, “You’re in Broadhoof Memorial Psychiatric Hospital, Phalanx.” “I figured out the hospital part, you know.” “You were admitted here because you have displayed traits of severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.” The stallion informed me, and I raised an eyebrow. “You assaulted three of your fellow Guards after something triggered a reaction.” “You’re joking, right?” I laughed, “I wouldn’t ever attack them.” The stallion once again seemed unaffected, but he seemed to be looking at me with a bit of curiosity. “You broke two ribs of Legion’s, gave a concussion to Claymore, and broke Sparrow’s leg.” He told me, and the fact that he knew their names informed me that either this was an elaborate joke, or was the real deal. “You were subdued by five other Guards, during which you were shouting, ‘They’re everywhere! Watching us from the damned trees!’.” For some reason, the “tree” part made me feel a lot more alert, and I felt my heart start beating faster. “You were admitted yesterday night after being administered a sedative and as of this morning have been discharged from the Royal Guard for being unfit to serve.” He informed me, and whatever happiness I had in that moment shattered like thin ice. Joining the Royal Guard had been a dream of mine for years; I had sacrificed a lot of my own time to make sure I would even catch the eye of a recruiter for the Royal Guard, not the Equestrian Guard. Now I was being told that after six weeks of actually being a Royal Guard, I was no longer one. To say I was unhappy was an understatement. “I’ve been discharged?” I breathed, knowing it would be unwise to show much more than that. “They would have honorably discharged you,” The stallion told me, seeming to choose his words, “But due to the... circumstances of your discharge, they couldn’t.” For a moment, I just sat there, feeling any purpose of my life dissipate. My special talent was strategic and tactical planning, and now I was being officially told that I couldn’t anymore. My life now was officially meaningless. “Look, we’ll get you out of the straightjacket, but you need to promise me you won’t attack any of us.” The stallion said, for once his tone seeming natural. I just nodded, so the nurse went and gingerly unbound the restraints, and after she took the straight jacket off, I waited a moment to stretch my forelegs, so as to not look like I was going back on my promise. “What’s your name?” I asked the stallion, and he smiled. “I’m Doctor Harthan Pszichiater,” He said, “You can just call me Doctor Harthan. Do you mind if we talk in my office?” “Of course not.” I said, trying not to sound malicious. He gestured for me to follow, and I walked out the door with him into a corridor that was expected of a hospital. I knew the orderly-guards were trailing behind me, but I focused on the pegasus I was following. The hospital seemed abnormally empty, both the corridors and the rooms with windows. After going through several near-identical corridors, not that I wouldn’t have known how to find my way through them if I needed to, we finally arrived at a regular hospital door, an oddity compared to the other doctor’s offices which had oak wood doors. On the right-hoof side of the door there was a label: “Doctor [Harthan], PSYD”, the surname being covered by a piece of white tape with his first name. “Unorthodox.” I thought, wondering if he got into any trouble for the abnormal. Doctor Harthan grabbed a key and unlocked the door, and I followed him in. The furniture wasn’t what I expected, to say the least. Instead of there being wooden bookcases, desks, and chairs, they were replaced with steel. A carpet was absent, and the window was covered with depressingly gray shutters. In essence, it appeared the Doctor had gone out of his way to mimic the way his patients lived, and it spoke to me. “You can sit down Phalanx.” He said, gesturing to the only nice-looking chair, an oak-wood chair with a cushion. His chair, on the other hoof, was a steel folding one. I took my seat, and after grabbing a folder from a steel filing cabinet, he sat down as well, and set his forelegs on the desk. “So, Phalanx, as I stated earlier, you were admitted yesterday after you assaulted your fellow guards, specifically you were involuntarily admitted.” He restated, looking at me with the curious look from before. “Captain Shining Armor specifically insisted upon your admittance being involuntarily.” “Look,” I told him, “I’m not crazy okay? I probably just hadn’t gotten enough sleep or-” “You had fallen unconscious after a traumatic incident while on deployment in Ponyville. After which, you remained unconscious for eighteen hours before you woke up and after a minute of conversation, proceeded to assault Legion, Claymore, and Sparrow.” Doctor Harthan informed me in a blunt tone. “But... what happened? I don’t remember any incident!” I argued, even though it seemed like what he said faintly ringed a bell. “You most likely have unconsciously attempted to avoid remembering any details due to your disorder.” Doctor Harthan calmly replied, “I believe from the reports on the incident from Legion that I know what triggered the reaction, but I would prefer not to test that right now.” “You better not.” I heard one of the orderly-guards mutter, and Doctor Harthan must have as well, because he glared at the perpetrator. “I was also told by your fellow guard Claymore to tell you that ‘You are much stronger than you look’.” That in itself didn’t surprise me. It probably wasn’t exactly what Claymore had said, but was the censored gist of it. “Are they alright?” “Yes, they were out of the medical center within an hour.” He told me, and I decided to ask one of the toughest questions I ever have. “So... How long am I in here for?” I asked, and I knew I could feel tears forming at the very edge of my eyes. He sighed, “As long as needed, until I and a group of other doctors deem that you are not a harm to yourself, or anypony else.” “So I’m stuck here in the loony bin in other words?” I asked, now definitely putting up a fight not to show tears, one that was right now being barely won. “I’ll be stuck in a padded cell in a straight jacket?” He looked at me with something that didn’t seem to be like a parent reassuring a child that everything would be okay, but rather a look a friend would give to comfort another. “I wouldn’t call it a ‘loony bin’, but yes you will be an inpatient here. Also, you won’t be in a padded cell in a straight jacket unless you prove you need to be.” “What about-” I asked, now starting to lose my defense against the tears, “What about my family? Will I be able to see them? What about Legion or-” “They actually have been requesting to see you, but due to hospital protocol, we have to wait forty-eight hours before we can consider.” He informed me, “Not that I believe it is beneficial in this case, but I’m not the administrator here.” “Is it,” I asked, now seeing the edges of my vision blur, “Is it alright if I go to wherever I am staying while I’m in here?” “Of course.” Doctor Harthan replied with a smile. I got up, and as I headed to the door, with one of the orderly-guards leading the way, the Doctor spoke up. “And Phalanx?” “Yes?” I asked, my vision now blurry. “I think you’re the only pony who I have met here who hasn’t cried for as long as you managed to.” I would have taken offense, but I felt what the Doctor meant behind the words. He was genuinely being kind. “Thanks.” I said, and I started to follow the orderly-guard to the next section of my life: being a patient at Broadhoof Memorial Psychiatric Hospital. Author's Note First things first: Credits! Credit for "Asylumverse" Material goes to Daemon of Decay! Credit for My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Materials goes to Hasbro. Credit for Phalanx Spear, Harthan Whateverhislastnameis, Legion, Sparrow, and Claymore goes to me. Onto the Author's notes: As you can see, this chapter is relatively short. I pushed myself to get it started because I haven't done much with my "Crusaderverse" (Huh, I just thought of that) stories recently, having hit a writer's block. Then, guess what is brought to my attention through Equestria Daily? The story Asylum, which grabbed my attention through it's interesting setup. After I finished reading through the current chapters posted, I learned that Daemon had been having users post OCs. Then after posting an OC in the comment section of that particular blog post, I learned through another blog post that he was actually letting people write some stories set in the "Asylumverse". So, I asked for his permission to write this, and well now we're here! Hope you enjoy!
Chapter Two: AtonerAfter a few minutes of winding through corridors, the orderly-guard in front of me finally halted. “This is your room.” He told me in a surprisingly meek voice. Next to the steel door entrance of the room itself, there was a sign that read “Inpatient Suite 061.” I subconsciously figured that the first number referred to the floor, then the second referred to a specific hallway or corridor, and the last number was the actual digit of the room in the particular corridor. “The things you learn to take notice of in Royal Guard training.” I thought to myself as the orderly-guard keyed the door open. I went in after he gestured for me to do so. It seemed decent: there was a regular-looking bed, not that I would have noticed a difference if there was a bunk, and a door to what was presumably the bathroom. The furniture consisted of a steel bookcase, a steel desk, and a chair. “Dinner will be at 5 o’clock,” The orderly-guard informed me, and I just nodded. “If you need anything just say so.” “What a subtle way to remind me my room is being monitored,” I muttered under my breath. The orderly-guard took his leave, and as the door shut, I didn’t pay the turning of a lock my attention. Instead, another part of me kicked in. One that recognized that in some ways I was a prisoner of war: I would be released when it was deemed beneficial, and that they knew I could do a lot of harm if I wanted to. “Don’t think like that,” I told myself. “You’re here because there is something wrong.” I decided to take a look at the books on the shelf, and I could tell they were hoof-picked. They were generic books: the adventure novel Daring Do and the Crystal Heart, a couple of reference books such as Mareiam-Webster Dictionary, and Royal Equestrian Encyclopedia 1244 Edition. I took a glance at the desk, and to my surprise there were a few sheets of paper on it. I walked over, and I saw there was writing on the papers. “Letters,” I murmured and looked at the first one, which was in printed writing. I probably shouldn’t have done that, though, because it only served to lower my already abyssal spirits; it was my letter of discharge. By order of Captain Shining Armor, As of 0530 hours on May 26, 1245, Corporal Phalanx Spear is hereby discharged from the Equestrian Royal Guard on grounds of being unfit to serve. Corporal Spear is to be involuntarily admitted to Broadhoof Memorial Psychiatric Hospital, for treatment of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I couldn’t bring myself to read the rest of the letter. I turned it over and moved it to the other side of the desk. The next letter was hoofwritten, and I recognized it as Captain Shining Armor’s. Phalanx, First of all, please understand that I put you in Broadhoof because it was the only option other than trying you in a military tribunal, not to say nopony would blame you. I understand that you have worked at becoming a Royal Guard for a long time, but I was trying to also make sure that you wouldn’t be dishonorably discharged due to you assaulting other Guards. Phalanx, I wish you the best in the hospital. I am still trying to figure out what happened before you returned to the Ponyville Barracks. Your fellow squad mates have been a little more concerned about you than telling me whatever the hell happened beforehoof. Get better in there, Phalanx, it would make me much happier to hear you’re in a better state of mind than anything else. From, Shining Armor I knew he had his heart in the right place with his decision yet it still made me feel the slightest bit betrayed. I had worked so hard, so very hard to get into the Royal Guard, but now life had been the trickster it was. It had let me join the Royal Guard, but only for a short time. “Why is life so cruel to some, while it is kind to others?” I mused to myself, as I looked at the last letter, which was in my father’s hoofwriting. Phalanx, I got a letter about what happened. Your mother and I came to Broadhoof as fast as we could, but they say we have to wait two days before they can consider letting us visit you. Get better, Phalanx. With love, Your Dad I got up and looked out the window that was covered by a metallic grate, and I silently cried for a moment. It felt like this had all been my fault, even though I knew it wasn’t. Because of one action, one damned action, my life had hit a reset button. I was now in a place where I had similarly begun my life, granted it wasn’t the same kind of hospital, but it was in many ways the same. I was in a ward being ensured I was fit to enter the world outside, the world where everything was open and free, well, idyllically anyways. Being in the military made me see that a lot had to be done in order to ensure Equestria actually seemed that way internally. “I wonder what they think of me? That I’m like a foal who needs to nurtured? That I’m not what I worked so hard to be?” I sobbed, not caring anymore what anypony who was watching thought. I heard a gentle knock at the door, and I looked over to see Doctor Harthan standing in the doorway, the door itself being halfway open. “Mind if I come in?” I wondered why he would even ask that. I was the patient, I didn’t really have the option to say no. “Of course,” I answered, resisting the temptation to be sarcastic. The pegasus entered, and walked over to where I had my desk. “You read through the letters I had left for you?” I nodded. “You know, some of the other doctors thought that shouldn’t have been done, but in the end I did what I believed was best.” He pulled out the chair and sat down across from me. I was wondering if he was trying to get me to open up to him, being sincere, or a mix of the two. I offered no response. After a moment, he seemed to understand my message, but decided to speak again. “Can I talk to you?” “Why of course.” I replied, not caring if I sounded sarcastic. “I’m asking you that as an honest question, Phalanx, you don’t have to talk to me. You didn’t even have to let me in, and you can still ask me to leave.” “Uh huh, except you probably wouldn’t listen.” “I would, Phalanx.” He glanced towards the ceiling as he formulated a response. “Do you want to know why I decided to become a Psychiatrist and work here?” “Let me guess, because you wanted to ‘help’ ponies who couldn’t help themselves or some other load of hayseed. Or was it that you felt sorry because you knew somepony at one point who went into a mental hospital?” I jabbed and looked back out the window, enthusiastic to show I wasn’t the submissive one. “I could have stopped somepony from taking their own life,” he told me. I looked back to see he had shut his eyes for a moment. “I could have stopped them if I had been the slightest bit kind. But because of my own ignorance, they are no longer with us.” “Maybe I misjudged him. Maybe... Maybe he is trying to tell me something as well.” “What happened?” I suddenly found myself interested in what he had to say. “About fifteen years ago, I was a student in Manehattan’s High School. I was actually a pretty ‘popular’ colt, basically I was the jerk jock.” He gave a twisted frown, one that showed this was actually difficult for him. “I had great grades, was one of the best hoofball players in my school, had tons of ‘friends’, and I could easily get a fillyfriend if I asked. I could even pick on the ones who were ‘not popular’ and get half of the school to laugh.” This was sounding to me like a different pony than the one who was in the room with me, so I listened closely. “I’ll be honest, I thought that having the status I had would make sure I would make the big bits in life, and who knows? Maybe it would have done just that.” He seemed to be holding back tears of his own now. “I forsook those close to me, my family, my real friends, my teachers, anypony who could have given the slightest bit of care about me. After all, who cared about them, they were just ponies in the way.” He now was choking back tears. “Then, one day in winter of my junior year, maybe a month before Holiday Break, my sister came to me during lunch and asked me if I could help her with a problem. I like to think sometimes that I might have helped her had it been not been in front of half the school, but I know I wouldn’t have done it anyways. My ego was too large to even give a damn about maybe shrinking it slightly in order to help somepony else. “I humiliated her in the middle of the school cafeteria, and it wouldn’t be the last time either. What the problem was, I will never know, it could have been academic or social. Over the next two weeks I humiliated her time and time again, and I didn’t bother to think what my actions were doing as I saw her becoming more and more withdrawn. “It was funny to me to see my own sister be harassed, because I was the big shot. I was the colt who could instantly make or break somepony’s reputation. To see how helpless she was to my own power amused me.” “Finally, maybe a week before break, she came to ask me a question. I will never forget it. ‘Why have you forgotten who you are?’ She asked me. ‘Who am I? Am I not deserving of being your own sister?’ ” He was letting out some tears, but continued speaking. “I ‘put her in her place’ by berating her for believing she could make me care.” “Finally, Hearth’s Warming Eve came.” His eyes began to water and he paused to take a deep breath, “And...And when I walked downstairs, I went into the bathroom to find her Hearth’s Warming gift to everypony.” I noticed I felt tears forming as well, and I dreaded what he was about to say. “Hanging from the ceiling from a rubber cable was my sister. She had killed herself the night before. She had finally decided after all the harassment, most of it my own, there was only one way out. In a note she taped to the bathroom mirror, there were only four words: ‘I am not worthy’.” He burst into full tears and after a moment took another breath to compose himself. “Needless to say, my family was devastated. I didn’t bother to tell them why she had done it, because I didn’t want to admit my own terrible mistake.” I felt a lump rising in my own throat already, yet he had much more to say. “I came back to my school devastated, and one of the first things my ‘friends’ said was a ‘joke’ that I would have laughed at had it not been my own sister. ‘So I heard your weirdo sister tried to get some attention by killing herself! How desperate is that?’ That was what he ‘joked.’ ” “It was then I knew her death was my fault, and mine alone.” Doctor Harthan stared at the floor, unable to make eye contact with me, while his tears continued to flow. “A day later, I decided to join my sister. As I was about to let myself follow in her hoofsteps, my mother decided to use the bathroom.” He looked at me with guilty eyes. “She stopped me, and as my father and her took me to here, ironically enough. I confessed my wrongdoing to my parents and I knew in that moment I was in essence, their foal, who they loved very much, who was the murderer of their filly, whom they also loved. “I was admitted here, and unbeknownst to me a court case was held over my responsibility in my sister’s death. For the next nine months, I slowly recovered. I found out later that the court case had barely been won, my parents barely retaining custody of me. My records were sealed by order of the court, and when I left this place, I came out with one goal in mind. I would atone for my sister’s death by ensuring I would make others avoid her fate. For the next ten years, I poured every fabric of my being into becoming a Doctor of Psychiatry. “Finally, when I looked for where I could start my atonement, I came here. Due to my previous experience at the hospital, they were hesitant to employ me. In fact, they wouldn’t have given me a job had a certain unicorn not decided to have an episode right outside the interview office. Against their wishes, instead acting in the moment, I went out and tried to understand what was going on with her. Somehow, I was able to calm her down, because I instinctively understood how she felt. Instead of being thrown out the door, the mare in charge of employment gave me the job on the spot. Which, interestingly enough, was against the interviewer’s recommendation for my employment. “I got my Cutie Mark that day... My talent’s understanding how others feel, and being able to help them along,” He told me with tears, “But just imagine that... Had my sister not killed herself, because of my own actions, I would never have learned what my talent was; and I have to live with that fact every single day, every single moment.” I stood there, looking at the stallion in front of me. I didn’t know what to make of him now, it seemed there was much more to him than what he initially let on. I asked a question that to this day I don’t know whether I should or should not have asked. “Why are you telling me this?” He looked at me, and gave a weak smile. “I don’t know, to be quite honest. Maybe it’s because I feel like you might understand. Maybe it’s because I just need to confess my wrongdoings to somepony else.” I was wondering what he meant by that last part. “You haven’t told anypony else?” “No,” he replied, “Well, if you don’t count the employees who know me from my first visit here, my parents, or the court, no I haven’t told anypony else.” We both stood there in silence, neither of us knowing what to say. “You know, Phalanx, I think I actually understand why I told that to you, even though I would never dare to do that to a patient,” Doctor Harthan said. “You and I are alike in a way. We both have sacrificed so much to get to our dreams, and they both have been rejected in different ways. Your’s required sacrifice from yourself, and mine required both my sister’s and my own.” For whatever reason, I appreciated that the Doctor had trusted me with his story. “Thank you for sharing that with me Doctor, I think it helped in some way.” “Thank you Phalanx, for listening to me ramble on about my own sins.” He looked at me, “You can just call me Harthan, I don’t feel that you need to call me Doctor Harthan.” Harthan looked at the clock, and back at me. “I think I should be going, thank you once again Phalanx.” As he left the room, I looked out the window once again. In my mind, I felt some comfort, because I knew I wasn’t as alone I thought. I had been given a gift from life through the form of Harthan. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Author's Note Credits: Credit for "Asylumverse" Material goes to Daemon of Decay! Credit for My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Materials goes to Hasbro. Credit for Phalanx Spear, and Harthan Whateverhislastnameis goes to me. Also a big thank you to Kaidan for taking the time to help revise the chapter! You are awesome and deserve this Derpy Hooves picture! On to my notes: This chapter was originally going to be a bit more about how Phalanx is reacting to his situation, and maybe even a glimpse into what might have occurred, but I realized I wanted Harthan to have a story to tell Phalanx. A way to show that he was not just another pony hired to treat patients, but rather, that he does so with a set purpose in mind. It also was really tough for me to write, in terms of the darkness. I took a couple of minutes in one part just to get up and get a drink of water. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter Three: FirstsFor the first time in many months, I felt bored. Being part of the Royal Guard ensured you spent no moment unoccupied, but right now I couldn’t do anything that I normally would do in my spare time. I sighed, tapping my right hindleg on the cold, sterile floor. What were my squad mates up to? Was there just another replacement for me, one who they would get used to? Will my name no longer be recognized? My thoughts were going in that direction because during training, and just in general, you were constantly reminded there were a dozen other stallions who would eagerly take your place. As my thoughts drifted back to training, I gave a small smile as I remembered the site we were trained. The place had no name, as it technically didn’t exist. Officially, Royal Guards were trained on the Canterlot Palace’s grounds, but as soon as you were considered, and you agreed to join, it quickly became obvious that was a half-truth. Your first day was basically spent signing paperwork that stated you agreed that you would not disclose any information not approved by the Captain of the Royal Guard. After that, you were “released” to go home for the day, only to be ambushed by actual Royal Guards. Interestingly enough, the ones who would ambush me were Legion, Sparrow, and Claymore. When you regained consciousness, you were outside a facility in the middle of the forest, with Canterlot almost directly above. “They abandoned you there,” A voice whispered in my ear, and I jerked up, looking for who had just said that. There was nothing different in the room, but I knew for a fact I heard a voice. Measuring my steps carefully, I walked towards a wall, and looked for whatever said that. Once again, nothing out of the ordinary awaited me. “You can’t find me. You know that, right?” I snapped my eyes around the room, looking for whatever the hell said that. “Who’s there?” I demanded, and then the voice laughed. I noticed it sounded as if multiple ponies were speaking the same thing at once. “My, my, Phalanx. Have you forgotten me so easily?” the sly voice said with a predominantly mare’s voice. “Who. The. Hell. ARE YOU?” “I am what you are.” Such a specific answer, I thought sarcastically. “I am speaking the truth, Phalanx,” the voice stated, as if it could hear my thoughts. “How can you hear what I’m thinking?” I inquired, my curiosity outweighing my defensiveness. “Because I am what you are.” With that, the surroundings changed to a vastly different room. Instead of the cold, ceramic, hospital floor, there were wooden floorboards that were dark gray. The ceiling, instead of being flat, was obviously a roof, and there was a regular, non-grated, window. The room itself, however, seemed very organized. There was a bed that seemed as if it had been taken directly from a display, the sheets perfectly flat. The bookcase in the room was filled to the brim with volumes of knowledge, but they were all sorted alphabetically. There was a desk that was tidy, there was an ink and quill to the side and a perfect stack of paper. I knew what this room was; it was my own bedroom in my parent’s house. “How?” I asked fearfully. “Oh don’t be ridiculous, Phalanx,” The voice huffed. “It isn’t your room; it’s your memories!” The voice said the last part a bit too eagerly. A door swung open, and who else would walk in but a younger version of myself. I realized when this had occurred: it had been the spring of my freshcolt year at high school. What’s the purpose of this? I asked in my thoughts, unsure if it would be a wise idea to vocalize. “You can speak, you know,” The voice commented drolly. “My purpose is to show you what you once were.” The younger me let out a sigh, took a book from a shelf, and set it on the desk. On the cover it read simply: “Equestrian Military History.” I heard hoofsteps that shouldn’t have been there, because I remember nopony interrupted me. “Until next time, Phalanx.” My surroundings jerked back to the hospital room, and I was lying on the floor. Harthan was standing not two hoofsteps away, concern creasing every part of his face. Behind him was a rather smug-looking doctor along with two of the orderly-guards. “Phalanx, are you alright?” Harthan asked hurriedly. I just nodded, noticing the two nurses in the doorway and Harthan glanced over and shook his head, making them leave. “Well, Doctor, I believe your life story worked wonders,” The other doctor commented venomously. I instantly decided I disliked the doctor, basing my judgement on those nine words. “Yeah it did,” I agreed, proceeding to roll myself back up to my legs. “It actually made me somewhat appreciate Doctor Harthan.” The unnamed doctor looked at me with disdain, but I ignored it. Harthan, on the other hoof, seemed to wince slightly at my response. I realized he wasn’t going to defend himself against this doctor, for whatever reason; so, I decided to do it for him. “Any other assessments?” I asked the doctor. The doctor looked at me with more fury than I had ever seen a pony have, but he finally sighed. “Come on, Roller, let’s leave the Doctor to his patient.” The two walked out, and I looked back at Harthan who seemed to be in a state of shock, one eye half open. “So, if I may ask, who was that?” Harthan realized I was still there, and he looked at me. “That’s another story for another time. I think right now I have tried my luck as it is.” My mind seemed to start paying attention to the rest of my body again, and the scent of food hung in the air. “So... Are we going to just stand here or are we going to eat?” I asked, sharing the eagerness he had to get off the topic. Harthan gestured to a tray on my desk, and I went over and sat down. The “food” didn’t look exactly pretty, it seemed like a mush of a dozen different things. I didn’t mind, though, I had far worse before, the “Ration Bar” coming to mind. “Phalanx, could you describe to me what was occurring while you were on the ground?” Harthan asked and I turned to look at him. “I’m not quite sure really, first I was-” Harthan cut me off, “I think I know what triggered it, Phalanx, and I don’t want to trigger it again. Can you just describe to me what started happening when you noticed things were amiss?” “There was this voice, or better stated, a bunch of voices. But nopony was in here, and when I came to the wall, I was in my bedroom. I was standing there, and I realized it was a memory of an afternoon a few years back. Then, I heard hoofsteps that shouldn’t have been there, and next thing you know I am on the ground.” He nodded, and glanced at the food. “I hope it’s not too bad, they are very picky about what they let patients eat.” “It’s fine,” I replied. “Granted, I would like an MRE a little more, but I am okay with it.” I took the opportunity to eat some of the mush, which seemed to taste like artificial cheese. A minute later, I had swallowed the last of it, and when I turned back again, Harthan was still there. His head was inclined towards the floor, his eyes staring at a tile in deep thought. His eyes snapped towards me, and he raised his head. “Can I have a story for a story?” “Of course.” “What made you interested in the Royal Guard?” I sighed, I had been asked this twice before. Once by my high school counselor, and then another time by the recruiting officer. Both times they seemed pleasantly surprised by my response, because it actually wasn’t the result of some colthood fantasy. “In one word: Stalliongrad.” “What about it?” “Well to start off, I grew up in Prancesylvania, my parents were both, and still are, the proud owners of a 93-acre oat farm. I had no military history in my family whatsoever, mind you, my family had settled there two hundred years before. For the first few years of my life, I helped on the farm, and was generally bored. “One day, when I was four in the middle of summer, my father got an invitation to an agricultural convention in Stalliongrad. My parents were ecstatic at the invitation, however I had a foalhood tantrum. As much as I found the farm boring, I had never gone anywhere else more than fifteen miles away, and I didn’t want to go. “We went anyways, obviously, and when we got there, it seemed exactly how I pictured it,” I recalled. “There were boring gray buildings, it was cold, and there were more ponies than I had ever seen. My mother decided to see if we could find a tour of the city, so as to possibly grasp my interest. “It was boring, for the most part. There was a spiel about how Stalliongrad was one of the largest cities, and how it was the northernmost city in Equestria. They went on about agriculture and all this other stuff, and the tour ended. On our way back to where we were staying, we passed a statue.” “The Mareayev Monument, I presume?” Harthan asked, and I nodded. “I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I stopped and stared at it. In the middle of this boring city, was a statue that seemed to not fit in. What really got me though, was the stallion in armor. Everypony else, and even him, seemed to be exhausted and disheartened, but the armored one seemed to have resolve. “I asked my mother what the statue was, and she replied with ‘You wouldn’t understand’. But I wanted to know what it was, and I asked again. She bit her lip, and then told me ‘Here, I’ll see if they have something on it in the library’. “We actually went to the library, and she kept her promise. She came back with a book: The Battle of Stalliongrad. She warned me that I probably shouldn’t be reading it, and that I wouldn’t understand a lot of the words. I disagreed though, and when we returned to the hotel where we were staying I opened the book up and started looking through it. “A lot of the wording went over my head, but I understood what happened at a basic level. That there had been a terrible conflict, and that the city of Stalliongrad had been left alone to survive. It amazed me how the ones who were in there kept steadfast and didn’t surrender, how they resisted and refused to back down. “From that day forward, my interest grew in the battle until I learned a few months later, after asking my parents countless questions about what certain words meant, of the Royal Guard. That they had been the ones to gather everypony together, and they had organized a way to make the Griffins leave. “I wanted to know how they could do that, how they could not give up. So, for the next fourteen years, I poured everything I had into becoming a Royal Guard,” I finished, relieved to have to not go on and on any more. “It was curiosity that drove you, not envy or desire.” Harthan commented. “Pretty much, though later on when I discovered my talent I also wanted to join them to be able to give my own abilities for use.” “Curiosity, not envy.” Harthan breathed, and he had the slightest frown. “Something you want to tell me?” “Not yet, I want to have more confidence on it.” “On what?” Harthan looked up to the ceiling, and started to formulate a response when the door swinging open interrupted him. “Lights out in five minutes.” An orderly informed me, and Harthan looked relieved for some reason. “I will see you tomorrow, Phalanx,” Harthan said, and hurried out. I was frustrated, because there was something he knew but wouldn’t tell me. What was it? Sighing, I decided to lay down and try to get some sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep.
