I used to enjoy being on the Honor Guard. Extra emphasis on used to.
During the Nightmare War, I was an extremely stereotypical guts-and-glory Pegasus Captain, racking up more medals than most of the generals that I knew (not that I knew very many). I swear, by the time I got hit, my uniform weighed more than I did.
And I got hit hard. I remember drifting in and out of consciousness on the operating table, hearing snippets of conversation. The doctors said that judging by the state of my injuries, the blast of magic that took my leg must have come from Nightmare Moon herself.
And for some strange, fucked up reason, that made me feel really awesome.
Believe me, it hurt like a bugger. That wasn't the awesome part. The awesome part was that, you know, I got shot by Nightmare Moon, and by extension, Princess Luna. Royalty. I dunno. There's just something kinda cool about that.
But it didn't seem very cool why they were amputating my leg. Granted, there wasn't much left to amputate after the hit I took, but all their magic can't substitute for a bone-saw, so that's what they used. There were so many casualties that day, they were understaffed and rushed, so they gave me an improper dosage of anesthetics, which wore off midway through the operation. They couldn't spare the resources for more. I was screaming the rest of the day.
When they showed me my new leg, days later, I was... Well, I was disgusted. This, spindly, complex thing could never substitute for my real leg.
And then they attached it.
My first thought once it was on was DAMN. It felt... Good. I don't know how those unicorns did it, but whatever magic they put into that thing went right up through me as soon as they stuck it on. I swear I felt stronger than I did before. I was outta that hospital in no time after that. I just wished they could have developed that kind of technology sooner. It would have been a short war.
Anyway, that's me.
On to the story.
***
God, this feels good, I think, watching the crowd of adoring ponies before me.
I stand on the stage of the auditorium, bionic leg working perfectly, those awesome little blue lights they installed calling even more attention to it. My gray coat's finally clean after washing all the dry blood off, and my white mane's grown longer than was regulation in the army, reaching down past my ears. I can feel the general's eyes on it, hating me for by rebelliousness. He always was a by-the-books soldier, that one.
Celestia is there beside me at the podium, addressing the crowd, radiant as always. She has donned a formal gown for the occasion, multiple layers of fiery-yellow, crimson, and white, her sun embroidered beautifully on the sides. The crowd is taking it all in, adoring their ruler, when suddenly there's a collective gasp from the audience. Celestia herself goes silent as she looks to her left. I hear the soft, sharp sound of hooves on stone, and I too turn.
And... My heart stops.
Extremely cliche though it may be, that's what happens. It ceases to beat in my chest for the most fleeting of moments.
There stands Princess Luna. Her head is lowered and her eyes are averted from the crowd, embarrassed by the attention, but completely deserving of it. Her mane seems to be made of the night sky, midnight blue and sparkling like the heavens. And while her sister's gown was dazzling in its elegance, Luna's was stunning in its simplicity. One layer of silver silk and black, the silver studded with onyx, the black lined with sapphires that brings out the blue of her coat beautifully.
I bow. I don't know what drives me to do it, but on an impulse I take to my knees, my head down. I look up at her. She's staring at me, a slightly amused expression on her face. She smiles at me.
And in that moment, something happens. Something extraordinary. I could feel it welling up inside me like a geyser, making me want to burst into song.
I fall in love with the Princess of the Night.
Now, I know what you're thinking. Jeez, guy. You take one look at a girl and fall in love with her. How cliché is that?
And I'm here to say, extremely. It felt right, though.
I can feel the crowd's eyes on me now, and I realize I'd been down on my knees for several minutes. I get shakily to my feet and turn to face the crowd once more, smiling my best smile.
And this time, the smile's genuine, born out of pure happiness inside me.
"During the Nightmare War, Major Sharpened Sword served Equestria valiantly..." Celestia begins the speech, speaking with such passion one would think that she couldn't be more proud of me. But I don't care. My thoughts dwell on this new found emotion surging through me, on the beautiful mare standing beside me.
I tune back in to the speech just in time. The general is speaking now. I must have been spacing out for a long time.
"... and it is because of this outstanding service that I am hereby promoting Major Gleaming Sword to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, and releasing him from military service with an honorable discharge. He will keep his rank and title, and may be called forth to serve in the event of another conflict." Of course, General Iron Shield has to mention the last bit. Has to be precise, that one. He can't just say, "Here's your discharge, congrats on your promotion!" There might be confusion as to whether or not I will keep my rank and title or if I can be called forth yada yada yada.
The applause is thunderous.
They pin the silver eagle on my uniform- I swear I can feel it get a little bit heavier- and the ceremony's over. There's a banquet laid out on an amazingly large table, with nearly every food imaginable spread out across it. Everyone converges on it afterwards. There is wine served, and strong hard cider. Within five minutes everyone has had at least one drink in them and is feeling much better than five minutes before. I even see Princess Luna carrying a glass of fine red wine, rosy in the cheeks. I wonder how many she's had. I wonder what she'd be like if she had a few more.
I shake my head, clearing my mind of the obscene images that are floating through, and shake hooves with somepony I don't know who's offering their most sincere congratulations for what seems like the billionth time.
I check the clock; three o'clock. The festivities shall go on well into the evening.
It's gonna be a long day.
***
I toss back another glass of hard cider. It's about eight o'clock in the evening, and I'm sitting alone at a table in the corner of the ballroom. The room has cleared mostly, and the ebb of well-wishers has slowed considerably. The smell of cigar smoke is thick in the air. My head is swimming, and when the waiter asks if I'd like another glass, I decline.
A breeze drifts through a nearby window, cooling me somewhat. I decide that some air would do me good, and I get up from my chair, staggering somewhat. I open the door and am greeted by a chill wind; it's colder than I thought.
I make my way through the dark, empty courtyard, towards my temporary quarters in the royal palace. Midway up the palace steps, I hear the sound of faint sobbing, coming from somewhere to my right.
I walk back down the stairs, turning the corner to find another smaller courtyard. There is a figure huddled in the corner, visibly shaking. Her coat is so dark that it it hard to tell who it might be, but... The gown is unmistakable.
Luna.
My words of comfort catch in my throat, and I halt my approach. I have no idea what I could possibly do to comfort the Princess of the Night.
Before I can back away, she looks up and notices me. Her eyes shine bright in the moonlight, brimming with tears.
And, to my mortification, the sight of me causes her to break break down completely.
I take two tentative steps forward.
"Princess," I say, my normally deep baritone voice sounding hoarse and quiet. "Whatever's wrong... If there's anything I may do to help..."
And with that, faster than I can comprehend, she's up and embracing me, and my forelegs are around her, stroking her mane, telling her that everything will be alright. Hot tears are spilling onto my shoulder, and her sobs are muffled by my embrace.
She breaks away, gazing at me with those beautiful blue eyes.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry." She lays her head on my shoulder on me again, and I cradle her, rocking slowly back and forth.
"What?" I say, like the genius I am.
"I did this to you," she says, her voice muffled. "I gave you that."
It doesn't take genius to realize what she's talking about. I'd never thought about it during the ceremonies, made the connection that the mare that I love had taken off my leg and sent me out of the army. But I don't care. At the moment, I don't give a flying fuck what she did to me. All I want to do is comfort her, hold her, tell her that everything will be fine.
"Princess," I begin.
"Luna," she says, fiercely, surprising me. "My name is Luna. I'm not that thing anymore. It wasn't me that did this."
I can tell that she is telling this to herself more than she was to me.
"I know, I know... Luna," I say. "It'll... It'll be alright. I honestly don't care what you- what it did. It doesn't matter anymore. What matters is now you're here, and she's gone. What matters is that I love you." It's out before I even realized I've said it.
And then...
"No," she says, and releases me.
I can't believe it.
I don't know what I'm expecting, but for whatever reason, it wasn't that. It didn't occur to me that I might be rejected.
I barely knew the mare, and yet, her answer cut me to the bone. I felt as though my heart were collapsing inward on itself.
But of course, I couldn't let it show.
"Forgive me," I say. "I had no right."
"No," she replies, seeming to regain her regal composure. "No you did not."
A tense silence hangs in the air for a moment, before I bow awkwardly. "I'll take my leave, then, Princess."
This time, she does not correct me.
I can't believe how stupid I am. "What matters is that I love you"? Who the fuck says that to a mare he barely knows?
Me, apparently. I feel like such a Schmosby.
The pavilion is mostly empty, save for a few solitary figures scattered around the courtyard, sitting at secluded tables. I try to sneak by, hoping that the lot of them will be too lost in their liquor to notice me. But, no, of course not.
"Oi, Sharp!" a voice calls.
Son of a bitch. It can't be.
The call comes from my old army buddy, Bludgeon. Never knew his real name. That was simply what everyone called him.
We'd been the best of friends during our time in the service. The options were somewhat limited friendship wise, so we'd had to make do. We got along well enough at first, not really seeing each other much until we got put in the same squad to scout out a rock formation. There, we were ambushed by a group of Nightmare Moon's Shadow Minions. Literally creatures of darkness, the bastards were like shadows on the rocks, difficult to spot, let alone kill. They'd gotten half of us before we even knew what was going on. I saw the guy in front of me get taken down- I can't even remember his name, is that bad?- and I grabbed the vest of the guy next to me, Bludgeon, and bolted, dragging him behind me. I don't know why I felt the need to save his life. If anything, he only slowed down my retreat, as he was barely moving, mesmerized by what was happening around him, all until a Shadow grabbed hold of his leg. He screamed then. The Shadow pulled him from my grasp, and was on top of him within a heartbeat. The only sign of any attack was the tiny lacerations that were appearing all over his body. Other than that, it simply looked as though he were laying in a patch of shade. I didn't know what to do. If I stabbed it, surely I would stab Bludgeon as well. But the cuts were still appearing, and they were getting deeper. The Shadow stifled any sound that Bludgeon was making. All he could show for his distress was a gaping mouth, wide open in horror. I did the only thing I could. I drew my sword and plunged the blade downward. The steel plunged through the Shadow, but, to my surprise, not through Bludgeon. It sank into the darkness as if it were a pool, leaving the stallion beneath it unharmed. As I withdrew the sword, fountains of dark froth spewed upwards, covering me from head to toe. It reeked of death and decay, and it burned my skin. I screamed. My last memory of the incident was Bludgeon standing over me, apparently calling for help.
Since then, he formed a brotherly attachment to me. We saved each other's lives countless times during the war. He'd been the one who dragged me away from the carnage after I lost my leg, tearing his own uniform into a tourniquet to stem the flow of blood. He'd kicked open the infirmary door and slammed me down on the operating table himself, demanding that the doctors make me well again. He said he didn't care what it took. He paid for the operation to get my new leg attached, and I had never even properly thanked him.
I snap back to reality. Now is as good a time as any, I reason.
"Bludgeon," I say, my speech unintentionally slurred. I realize that I may have had too much to drink. I'm glad that it didn't show while I was talking to Luna. Or did it?... Oh, Celestia, I'm so fucking stupid. Of course it showed. No wonder she rejected me. What mare would want some drunk-off-his-ass stallion pronouncing his love to her? I probably smelled, too.
"Sharp," Bludgeon said again. "So good to see you, man." His speech is slurred too. I realize that he's been hitting the liquor hard as well.
He downs the rest of his drink in one swallow and sets the glass on the table. "So look at you," he says. "New leg and all. You look like a freakin' cyborg."
By all definitions of the word, I am. It never occurred to me until now. What a strange thought.
"All thanks to you," I say solemnly. "You saved my life that day, you know that? If you hadn't drug me on my ass back to base, I'd be dead. I never really thanked you." I stop, unsure of how to say it without sounding like a pushover. "So... thank you." Dammit. Well, it could have been worse. I could have told him I loved him.
He snorts, and hiccups. "Don't mention it, dude. I mean, shit, how many times did you manage to keep me from getting killed? Enough to cover me saving you one measly time."
"More than one," I say.
"Whatever. The point is, no need to thank me. C'mere, let's have a drink."
Another drink is probably the last thing either of us need, but before I can protest he grabs me by the shoulder and drags me to the bar.
We sit down, and Bludgeon orders us both whiskey on the rocks, a mutual favorite of ours.
There's a silence for a few moments as we sip our drinks.
"So..." I say, simply blurting the first thing that comes to mind. "Did you see Princess Luna up there today? Fucking stunning, am I right?"
"Oh, uh, yeah," Bludgeon agrees, somewhat awkwardly. "I wouldn't mind... Um... Well, shit."
He hangs his head and sighs. Something's definitely wrong.
"Something the matter?" I ask tentatively.
"No... Well, yeah... Listen, Sharp..." his face is actually reddening even more than before, and it doesn't look like it's from the drinking. He scratches behind his head, searching for the right words.
Oh, no. Please tell me this isn't about to happen.
"We've been through a lot together," he continues. "And, well, you saved my ass countless times... We've been as close as brothers... And..." he swallows hard. "And, I love you."
Oh for fuck's sake.
I stare at him for a minute. All the times we'd spent together, I'd never figured him for gay. Not that I have anything against homosexuality- I just wasn't expecting it.
I don't know whether it's the alcohol, or the disappointment of my recent rejection, or both, but suddenly, I'm pissed. I've been through all this shit, and now the one guy whose support I thought I could count on has revealed his love for me. Just, what the fuck. That's not okay.
I wonder if this is how Luna felt. Probably. I grimace internally.
I know I need to let him off easy- the silence is growing longer and more tense, and the anger slowly boiling up inside me is making it difficult not to think of a nasty backlash.
"Bludgeon," I say, trying to choose my next words carefully. "No offense, but I like my friends like I like whiskey..."
"Let me guess," Bludgeon says, an edge to his voice. "Straight."
"Not trying to sleep with me!" I yell, a little louder than intended. Several heads turn in our direction. It wasn't what I meant to say. It just sort of happened.
Before he can respond, I storm off, leaving him and my drink behind.
The walk to my quarters is a long one, and cold. I stumble through the stone archway of the castle, where I'm staying temporarily. The throne room is mostly deserted, but for a few guards, most of which have drinks in hand. They wave, and I nod back at them as nonchalantly as I can, trying to ignore the pounding in my head. Tomorrow's gonna be a bitch of a hangover.
I make my way to the side of the room, tripping up the marble staircase that ascends to the second floor. My suite is the penthouse, on the top floor. It's gonna be a long fucking climb.
On the fifth floor, I stop when I hear a soft cough from behind me. From shadowy corridor comes none other than Princess Celestia herself. Her radiant gown is gone, but she still shines. How she blended in to the darkness so well is a mystery to me.
Remembering my manners, I snap to the best salute I can manage in my drunken state.
"At ease, Colonel," Celestia says, smiling.
My arm drops down flaccidly, and my head pounds again. I try my best not to grimace.
"No disrespect, ma'am," I say through somewhat gritted teeth. "But what were you doing there or all places?"
"Oh, observing," she says passively. "You, in particular. Been hitting the liquor, have we?"
I'm surprised by her lack of formality. Her tone is still kind, not condescending, but it still stings. I must look like a wreck.
"Yeah, a bit," I say. If she's not gonna be formal, I sure as hell won't either.
"But... Something else is wrong, too, I think," she says, looking thoughtful. It's almost as if she's not even talking to me. Suddenly, she locks eyes with me. "Something to do with my sister."
Fuck.
"So you know about that?" I ask rhetorically.
"I see a lot more than people give me credit for," Celestia says, still looking me in the eye. "My towers provide a good vantage point."
For a moment, I think she is about to lash out at me, hurt me for approaching her sister. But of course, she doesn't.
"You hurt her," Celestia says softly. "She may not have shown it, but you did. She's heartbroken. Go to her. Console her in any way you can." She says the last with extra emphasis. "Just make things right."
I let it sink in for a moment. So the Princess of the Night does have some manner of feelings for me. Fan-fucking-tastic.
My first instinct is to turn and run to her, but my drunk mind makes me second-guess. That instinct is replaced by anger, raw and visceral. Why should I run to the aid of someone who shot me down mere hours ago?
The answer comes in a whisper from my subconscious- Because you're a soldier. It's what you do.
Bullshit.
"Well," I begin. "If the Princess really needs consoling, tell her to come find me on her own. I'm not coming to anyone's rescue anymore, least of all hers. I'm done with that."
"There is not need to be upset-"
"To hell with that. I have every reason to be pissed. Luna was as cold as ice earlier, my head hurts like a bitch, and my best friend just tried to get me to come to bed with him. Just let me fucking go to bed."
She doesn't seem to mind the language. I don't know why I'm such an asshole about it. I suppose I just feel wounded, more than anything. Before Celestia can respond again, I turn continue back on my was to the top floor. She does not call out to me. After a moment, I hear her retreating softly back into the shadowy hallway.
The rest of the journey is a long and hard one. It seems as though my skull is fracturing with each step I take, and the staircases are hell.
Finally, groaning with exhaustion and pain, I push open the oaken doors of my suite and enter the room. I limp to the far side and throw open the window, letting the cool night air and pale moonlight stream in, before collapsing into bed. I don't even undress. Within minutes of my head hitting the pillow, I've fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep.
I'm awoken some time later by my door creaking open. Yellow light shines in my eyes, and I squint, waiting to adjust to the lighting. A silhouette stands in the doorway. It steps further into the light, to reveal the form of Princess Luna herself.
... Damn. Just when I thought I was done with this fucking night.
The dress that earlier complimented her dark beauty is gone, but she is still gorgeous, I hate to admit. Any feelings of tender admiration are gone, replaced by a contemptuous, begrudging respect. I sit up further in bed, rubbing my eyes and subconsciously smoothing back my mane.