"AAAHHHHHHHH-CHOoooh!"
Discord sneezed loud and clear across the Canterlot Royal Gardens, accidentally spilling some of the coconut lime (with vanilla extract!) tea he had been drinking. The cartoonishly loud sound echoing approximately seven times before fading to nothing, the sounds canceling each other out.
"Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that was rather septemal."
He sniffled, blew his nose into a tissue he whisked from a conveniently placed floating box, and went back to his tea like nothing had happened.
---
In the entirety of his relatively short life, The Guardian had done much, seen many places, and felt oh so many different flavors of pain. From the cold blaze of necromantic soulfire, to direct exposure to the intense energies of a star, The Guardian had felt it all. What he felt as he was sucked into whatever pinprick of a dimensional hole and immediately spat out the other end was remarkably similar to the sensation of clawing into the Void.
Only instead of briefly reaching within to borrow the vast power between realms, he was unceremoniously spat through the ethereal expanse, shattered into concept and soul, and promptly squeezed atom by atom into a passing reality. He could have sworn he saw the flickering not-shape of Toland the Shattered as he passed by. If the long-since-soul-torn Warlock could have looked surprised, The Guardian imagined he must've been. After that, everything swarmed and swam as he was lost in the bounds of the Void, tangled in cosmic threads.
---
A small-yet-bright mote of light flared in the center of Canterlot Castle's throne room in the wee hours of the morning, effectively blinding the single maid sweeping the floor. She eeped, skittering out of the room as fast as she could, while the mote grew and burned. With the constant turmoil and general weirdness that seemed to plague the mostly-Pony nation of Equestria, she assumed this to be the start of more dramatic shenanigans and ran to get the guards.
The heavy doors slammed shut behind her as she ran out of the room, her little maid hat falling off and catching in the door, keeping it open just a tad. The maid's hooffalls clicked and clacked down the halls. She wasn't entirely sure where the nearest guard was, or where the barracks were, but she ran nonetheless.
A fine silvery dust flaked to the carpet from the pulsing little sun, coiling and circling on the ground, before being disturbed by the soft thud of a metal ball. The little sun then winked out of existence and the only proof it had ever been there was the cloud of glowing, silver dust and the tennis ball-sized orb. A minute passed, the dust settled, and Ghost's eye blinked on. He slowly rose from the ground, blue light trailing off of him as he turned about, his little eye blinking and turning as he gazed around the large, ornamental throne room. It was...remarkably peaceful. The setting reverberated a calm he hadn't ever experienced, and the posh architecture reinforced the overbearing sensation of stillness to an almost sleep-inducing degree. Fortunately for Ghost, he was built of machinery and Light, and coudln't get sleepy. Besides, whenever he did sleep, he would dream, and his dreams were...Strange.
"This is...different." he eventually said, taking notice of the stained glass windows riddled with the antics of ponies throughout the years. "Very different indeed. Do you think-" and that was as far as Ghost got before he realized he was alone. He stopped himself from wandering and turned his attention to the glowing pile of dust.
"You've never glowed like this before...usually you're just a grey pile of charred mush when you get incinerated." muttered the orb to himself in a curious, cautioned tone while he flew closer in, hovering just above the shining particles. "I'll just...bring you back again. No sense staying dead here. Besides, being out in the open in unknown territory makes me feel vulnerable, and your 'backpack' is cozy. I'm a glowy robot that opens doors and states the obvious, I shoudln't have to deal with being shot at. Now, come on, eyes up, Guardian."
And with the cheesy lines out of the way, Ghost flew back up, expanded his field of radiant blue, concentrated on...well, his Guardian, and closed his eye. One radiantly milky flash later, and The Guardian was back. Sort of. He groaned, going from standing to flopping on the floor unceremoniously in a tangle of limbs and cloak.
"Five more minutes..." he groaned quietly, speaking for the first time in years. Again.
"Oh, come on! I know you wanted to rest, but something happened! Something...weird! And not our usual level of weird either." Ghost insisted, flying a little lower near where he guessed The Guardian's head was under the large hood of his cloak. "Besides, you never finished your cookies. They're the first thing you've shown an interest in eating in a decade and you're not just going to throw them away. How do you think I feel, never getting to eat anything?"
Another groan and some shuffling passed. Ghost retreated a few feet back up into the air and waited. He knew his Guardian would get back up. He always did. What he didn't expect was how he got back up.
The Guardian rose, eyes closed, and sighed, feeling his body work...differently. He opened his eyes and looked down at the snouty-nose thing sticking out of his face, blinking twice before sighing. He worked his jaw, feeling the differences, licking his teeth. Different. He flicked- flicked? Yes, he flicked his ears under his hood, feeling them brush against the fabric and what felt like a massive amount of fluffy, warm hair.
Since he was already facing the bunch of thrones over by the end of the room, he gingerly made his way over to the glorified chairs, wobbling along as his brain rapidly worked out how to function properly. With all memory of his past life stripped away, his brain had plenty of space to work with. "Pony walk" was added to the list of things he could do flawlessly. It rested comfortably below "handle literally all weapons" and "dance like a sexy beast". For whatever reason, all Guardians seemed to be capable of the same few basic things upon resurrection. The Guardian was never one to question that particular aspect of his beginning.
He looked down at the largest throne, frowning a little. He didn't feel like sitting in it. Furthermore, he wasn't sure how to sit in the first place. He peered over at the other thrones, his frown never shifting. He could see creases and marks in the cushions of the seats. They were in constant use. Or, at least used enough to have long-lasting marks.
Ghost seemed remarkably unfazed by his Guardian's ponification, simply poofing into a cloud of scattering mist and rejoining The Guardian in his head.
"Right! So, recap. You look weird but I think you're still you, you still have your cloak and suit, and I still have the box. We're in a nice place that doesn't look like a murdery death trap, and I'm almost ninety percent sure this is actually happening. Your thoughts?" chirped Ghost, his voice much louder inside The Guardian's head, and nonexistent outside of it.
Just as The Guardian was about to speak, the large door at the beginning of the room slammed open as a small group of guards barged in. The Guardian spun around, heart beating a little faster as he went over his options.
"I would avoid doing anything violent until you need to. Remember Mithrax? This might be like that. Only, you know, this time we're not on Titan, the Hive aren't here, and there's no reactor core that needs taking." Ghost piped. The Guardian's ears flicked again- damn, that was going to take a while to get used to- and he considered blitzing past the small group of golden-armored guards.
"Halt, intruder!" one of them shouted. Immediately after, more Guards piled in, bolstering their numbers from "a few here and there" to "an entire advancing line of adorable little horse guards". Notably, a few had horns, and one or two had wings. It was hard to see in the dark.
"What business do you have here after Night Court's end?" barked one of the darker-furred winged ones in a voice much like the first.
Night Court? Must've been why the seats were freshly rumpled. He didn't know much about the audiences leaders held with those they led, but the concept must've been pretty universal.
"I'm keeping a low profile for this one. Just in case something happens. Though, you should probably say something soon."
Ah, yes, saying things, because that's what The Guardian excelled at. Talking with guns, bows, and swords is what he did, and since he had none of those presently, and didn't want to hurt anyone unnecessarily, he was left with trying to think of something to say.
Nothing came out. What was he supposed to say? That he's actually a god-slaying being from another dimension who accidentally bopped in while trying to take an extended sleep? The line of guards was slowly becoming a ring. Fortunately, they seemed content with keeping their distance as opposed to circling in too tight. He supposed the goal was containment and explanation before anything more rash was undertaken.
"I, ah...Didn't mean to intrude..." he tried, noticing how much taller he was compared to those on the ground. Even the large ones seemed a head or two shorter than him. No wonder they all seemed tense, he must've been huge. Though, not even ten minutes had passed since he was alive in this world, so, he didn't have a lot of comparison material. "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said I didn't intend to be here?"
The guards shuffled, glancing around at each other before all moving in a little closer.
"Not particularly..." one of them muttered in a tiredly annoyed voice.
"Can we all just dogpile him now, save the questions for later?"
"No! That'd breach protocol."
"It's three in the morning, protocol be bucked!"
And the jabbering began. All the tired, cranky day-guards who had been woken by the maid began to argue over what to do with the intruder, no one ever seeming to agree on anything. A few bat-winged ponies garbed in darker colors seemed to back away from the noisy conflict, setting themselves apart from the babbling herd.
Figuring it a good opportunity, The Guardian looked at the open door at the other end of the hall and bolted, approaching the arguing crowd of guards at an alarmingly fast pace. A few vainly stepped in between him and the door, and he smiled to himself, respecting the gusto, even though it was useless. He jumped, concentrated, and felt his body displace itself from where he was in the air to the open door on the other side of the guards. Simply put, he Blinked.
He kept running, turning down the first hall he could find and galloping down it, eyeing a plain glass window at the end. Death-defying jumps weren't anything new, so if it was an uncomfortable height, he figured he'd be fine. Ignoring the shouts from the few pursing guards, most of which were the bat-winged ones who were flying, he thundered on down the hall, feeling his hood fall back as his long, wild mane dumped down, bouncing down past his neck and whipping back as he ran.
With everything out of his face, he was able to spare a glimpse at a slender, pale horn poking out of his forehead. Upon noticing it, he could feel a slight tingle running throughout it, like it was acting as a focus for his Light. He noted this and focused on running again, hearing the shouts of the guards grow louder. He wasn't entirely sure what they were saying, but he assumed it was something about stopping.
Moments before reaching the window, a dark blue flash lit the end of the corridor, and a winged unicorn nearly as tall as him had blocked his immediate path, wings spread and horn glowing. She was about to say something when The Guardian Blinked again, jumping and flashing past her. There was a cry of alarm before he smashed through the window, getting a good look at the raw end of a mountain side. He spoke in the few seconds he had, hanging in the air so briefly.
"Ghost, standby for resurrection..." he muttered.
And then he fell, voices calling out into the night after him.