It was the smell of burning flesh that awoke Celestia.
“ ...cess Celes… Prin ... ou alright?!”
Her head hurt, and her wings ached. As her brain acclimated itself, she noticed a persistent stinging on her barrel, likely that of an open wound. That idea alone frightened her; alicorns were not wounded easily. That meant whoever did this had the weapons and the tools to face an alicorn princess, and if that were true, she couldn’t imagine the fate of the few that accompanied her. With that thought in mind, Celestia opened her eyes slowly, finding herself face to face with a pair of worried, amber eyes.
“Princess…” The feminine voice sounded young. Too young to be fighting, at least, Celestia thought. As she slowly tried rising from the ground, a sharp pain in her abdomen made her pause her careless attempts. “You shouldn’t do that. It… it’ll get worse.”
Celestia looked around, taking in the nightmarish sights of nearby corpses—gryphon and pony alike—as well as discarded weapons reflecting the glowing moon above, where the face of the mare in the moon glared down at her. Your fault, it said, and Celestia could not deny that statement. With all the strength she could muster, she glowered at the gryphon before her. “What happened here?” the alicorn asked, her voice firm, yet tired.
“You don’t remember?”
She thought for a moment, trying to recall the actions that led her here, but a sharp pain in the back of her head made her pause. What have they done… “What happened?!” Celestia repeated, her wings rising with barely contained anger.
Though the gryphon did not look away, she fidgeted on the spot, visibly uncomfortable at what she was saying. “There was an ambush… We were no match for the surprise attack.” She gulped, then added, “I think… I think we’re the only ones left.”
The alicorn paled, her figure visibly slumping under the weight of the revelation, adding more lives to her large, ongoing body count. It was unfair for her ponies to have to suffer the horrors of war; so many lives should not have been wasted like that.
The Emperor, Celestia thought with disdain. Surely this was that old bird’s doing, if not that council of his, if they are willing to betray their own kind just to accomplish a simple-minded goal. Peace with those barbarians is nigh impossible. “I understand now why gryphons cannot be trusted,” she murmured. Her anger had burned out, leaving her voice hollow. “Murdering their own kind and—”
“We didn’t… gryphons wouldn’t do this!” the young gryphon shouted, livid. Being honest with herself, this was the first time Celestia had given more than a mere glance to her companion. Her amber eyes and black feathers complemented her silvery fur nicely, even if her short, yet toned frame currently shook with anger and exhaustion.
If she weren’t so tired, I could make her shake from… no. Perhaps in another lifetime… This was not the moment for such crude thoughts. She had more important things she needed to keep in mind, figuring out what happened here being number one on her priority list. “What happened here, then? Who is responsible for this cruelty?”
“We’ve had issues with…” The gryphon paused, wondering if she should be talking with such liberty to the ‘enemy’ commander before shaking her head with a sigh. “...rebels. There are some who want this battle to continue. Those weren’t soldiers! As surprising it may sound, Your Highness, most of us want this peace as much as you ponies do,” she said with disdain, before collapsing on the ground beside Celestia, the weight of her situation crashing down on her.
Celestia couldn’t help but agree with the gryphon’s words. As she carefully attempted to stand again, her legs and barrel protested, but eventually she accomplished the seemingly impossible task. She found the remains of her armor lying beside her; noticing various patches of torn cloth around her body, she realized the gryphon must have taken them off to treat her wounds. “Thank you,” she said, the gryphon barely acknowledging her gratitude, “For treating my wounds, that is. It was… kind of you.”
From her spot on the ground, the soldier sighed, hugging her wings close to her body. Deciding not to press a conversation, Celestia turned towards the wreckage in front of her. Her ponies deserved a proper funeral to honor their bravery, and she wasn’t going to leave them out in the open like mere animals.
She moved towards the closest body, that of a pegasus stallion she recognized as her evocati, Zenith Blade. She still remembered his face full of youthful enthusiasm at the battle of Ironback mountains; now, almost twenty years later, there he lay at her hooves, disfigured beyond recognition.
Holding back the few tears that managed to break her stern facade, she mumbled a prayer to the alicorns above, lighting up her horn with fire from the sun itself, before her magic suddenly fizzled out with a sharp stab at the back of her head. Worried, she patted the affected area, noticing the recognizable moisture of blood leaking from her skull. With such a serious wound, she wasn’t surprised that she couldn’t use magic.
“I tried to clean the cut, but I couldn’t find a sizable piece of cloth to cover it; I used what was left of my supplies on your barrel before I found the wound on your head.”
Celestia absently shook her head, turning around to find the soldier regarding her curiously. “What is your name?” she asked, surprising the gryphon with the simple question.
“I-I’m Astrid—er, Second Lieutenant CRN Astrid Kraus, Your Highness.”
Wait… CRN? A nurse? It was only then that Celestia finally noticed the red cross strapped around Astrid’s upper arm. How did a mere nurse endure where battle-hardened veteran soldiers perished?
“Astrid Kraus…” Celestia said thoughtfully, before regarding the gryphon with a critical stare, “How did you survive? Did the attackers spare you?”
Seemingly taken aback by the Princess’s question, Astrid looked down at her claws, suddenly trembling as she fumbled with her words. “I-I… I’m not a soldier, Princess! I ran away! I-I’m sorry, I ran!” Tears now ran unrestrained down her face as her voice gained volume, and her breath became laboured. “And… And they, they’re all dead! Egor is dead! Alys is dead! Because of me! I couldn’t help them! They all died! I-I don’t—I don’t want to die…”
Celestia limped towards the distressed gryphon. She may have had experience in dealing with the pain of loss, but she couldn’t expect the same from a second lieutenant, let alone a nurse. She wrapped a wing around Astrid’s frame, whispering soothing words in the hopes of somehow alleviating the pain.
With only the steady movement of the moon above her, Celestia pondered her situation, while providing as much warmth as she could to aid Astrid’s descent into slumber. What a turn of events—once enemies on the battlefield, now huddled together in the aftermath of a gruesome massacre. Perhaps ponies and griffins weren’t so different; there wasn’t any reason for them to live at war. I’m going to fix this, Celestia thought to herself, a simple mantra not unlike the promises she mumbled to Astrid.
Eventually, the alicorn felt the pull of her celestial body in the heavens. Morning was fast approaching, and she would need to lower the moon shortly. Her wounds were healing slowly but steadily, as whatever magic had been used to harm her gradually seeped out of her system. A few more hours, and she’d be able to teleport to safety.
Celestia looked down at Astrid’s sleeping form, comfortably nuzzling into her side. A small smile played upon her muzzle; she hadn’t been hugged like this in a while. Even the great Princess Celestia appreciated gestures of comfort like any other creature, especially in times of war; she wasn’t immune to its horrors.
“Astrid? Astrid, wake up. I need you awake,” she whispered, rousing the lithe gryphon from her sleep.
“Hmm? What? Alys? It’s already my turn? It’s way too early... ” the gryphoness muttered, barely rising from her spot against Celestia’s barrel, the alicorn’s feathers too comfortable for the fatigued nurse to part with.
Celestia chuckled in response, carefully poking Astrid at the base of her wings; she knew full well how much of a sensitive spot it was for pegasi. “No, Astrid, it’s not time for your patrol yet, but I would appreciate it if you could help me here first,” she said.
Failing to recognize the voice she was hearing as one belonging to any of her partners, Astrid let out a cry of surprise, flaring her wings wide in fear. Celestia had anticipated this, and moved aside to give the gryphon time to gather her bearings.
“I-I…” she stuttered, fearfully looking around the desolated field. “I thought this was just a bad dream,” Astrid sadly whispered, unconsciously scooting closer to the large mare.
“Will you be alright?” Celestia asked, briefly berating herself for having disturbed the gryphon’s sleep.
Astrid nodded. “I will, Your Highness, I just need a moment…” she said, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. “You said you needed my help—what for? I-I-I mean, I don’t intend to be disrespectful, but… why?”
“You’re not being disrespectful, Astrid, not in the slightest. The truth is, my magic is still weak, and I need to wait awhile longer before I can teleport us to safety. Before that, though… I need to do something… The souls of the creatures lost in this massacre must be given a proper rest,” Celestia morosely said.
Astrid nodded gravely. “I… I understand.”
It was an incredibly difficult task—carrying the bodies of the recently deceased, looking at their faces and seeing the fury, the anger, the sadness, and the fear etched forever in their muzzles and beaks. The memories were the worst; remembering each and every moment spent alongside them was enough of a torture. Celestia dared to say, even worse than death.
She’d had the same sensation every time she had to say goodbye to someone close. Sometimes that sickly feeling would creep up at night and invade her dreams with thousands of unanswered questions. She’d learned to face the unearthly interrogation, she’d learned to endure the pain, but sometimes the loneliness was too much to bear.
Celestia turned, encountering the sorry sight of Astrid cradling the dead body of one of her companions. Dried up tears matted her feathers as she whispered unintelligible things to the sleeping corpse. The alicorn’s heart shrivelled at the pitiful display. A young soul such as Astrid’s shouldn’t have been experiencing such sadness; it was simply unfair.
She walked up to Astrid with a sympathetic smile, nuzzling the gryphon’s neck as she crouched beside her. “I’m sorry, Astrid,” Celestia said, knowing that more words would be futile, and less than that would’ve been disrespectful. Gently, she encased the motionless body with what little magic she could spare, before Astrid’s determined claw on her chest stopped her.
“It’s ‘kay,” she said, barely able to get the words out due to her sore throat. “She’s my friend, I need to do it.”
Celestia bowed her head, acknowledging her decision as she walked closely behind Astrid towards the small patch of dried-up wood and grass she had prepared for the funeral. It was a simple thing, nothing flamboyant like the nobles’ burials back in Equestria.
“I’m sorry I’m not familiar with Gryphon’s burials, Astrid,” Celestia said abashed, as they laid the gryphon’s remains beside her companions. “I tried to make it as comfortable as I—”
“It’s alright, Princess. Our funerals are… a rather noisy affair. I-I remember Egor saying he wanted a great feast and a loud parade when he… when h-he—” A bitter sob interrupted her remembrance, along with the hot tears stinging her already-tired eyes; in an instant, Celestia was beside her, wrapping her wing around the gryphon’s shaking frame.
After a few minutes of frantic sobbing, Celestia lightly nuzzled the gryphoness’s head. “It’s time, Astrid. I’m afraid we can’t delay this any longer,” she said, an eerily calm counterpart to Astrid’s distraught form.
The alicorn lit up her horn, ignoring the throbbing pain in the back of her skull. Turning to Astrid for confirmation, Celestia fired up an ember directly at the base of the funeral pyre. The dead grass ignited, and the flame slowly grew into a blaze that would eventually consume the whole structure, leaving behind the ashen remains of mothers, daughters, fathers, brothers, and sons who perished by the vicissitudes of war, and whose souls would forever linger within their hearts.
“With honor, thou hath reached the peaceful pastures of the Elysian fields. May thy souls find everlasting rest. I promise to thee, that I will watch over thy descendants until my last breath. May harmony guide thy way.” Celestia hadn’t given the olden eulogy to the dead in battle in over a hundred years, but it seemed to fit the grim occasion. With blazing flames consuming the wooden pile, her gaze moved towards the dejected form of Astrid. “Do you have anything you wish to add?” she asked.
“I… I don’t know. I’ve never been one for words…” Astrid sighed, looking at the flames. “I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you. I’m sorry for always being a burden to you all. I’m… I’m sorry for dragging you down… even though you always said it was ‘no big deal’. I don’t want to go back… What am I going to say to your mother, Egor? How am I going to explain to your brothers that you died because of me… I-it’s just… It’s not fair!” Astrid cried as she broke down into a fit of sobs.
“It’s alright…” Celestia whispered soothingly. She knew that her empty words would do nothing to alleviate Astrid’s sorrow, but she said them nonetheless, for there was nothing else she could do. “It’s going to be okay.”
“No it’s not! It’s not going to be okay!” Astrid screamed, pushing the alicorn away with all the strength she could muster. “Look at me! I can’t even stop crying! I’m a wreck…” She trailed off, panting from both anger and exhaustion.
Celestia had seen the pain of loss in many other ponies through the ages, and she knew it could take plenty of forms. Anger, sadness bordering on crippling depression, and sheer self-loathing for those deep within the grasp of guilt. Still, she could never call herself an expert on the subject; everybody was different in their own way, and as individuals, they faced tragedy in diverse ways.
Nevertheless, Celestia could relate to the profound remorse the young gryphon was feeling, and she knew firsthand what it could do. “You are not at fault, Astrid,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving the makeshift pyre.
“You think so? Well, what if I’d… if… What if I had stayed? Would things have been different?” Astrid asked weakly, fidgeting with her claws. “Maybe if I had fought—”
“If only it were so simple, Astrid,” Celestia interrupted her firmly with a frown, making Astrid cower in apprehension from the sudden change of mood. “Those ‘what if’s’ you so wistfully suggest—they are not going to give your friends peace. It’s impossible for you to live your life with such a weight on your back… Trust me, I would know.” Celestia looked at Astrid with stern eyes. “And believe me, you do not want to.”
Astrid took a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably under Celestia’s gaze. “I-I… What should I do? What am I supposed to do?” she feebly asked, alternating between the alicorn’s intense features and the burning, motionless bodies of her friends.
The lingering anger in Celestia’s glare died out with a melancholic sigh. “I cannot tell you what to do; you’ll have to figure that out yourself.” A lone tear fell down her cheek as her eyes adopted a mournful glint. “I can only tell you that it is not an easy road, but then again, few paths in life are.
Astrid’s fur bristled in dismay. She felt like a hatchling being scolded by her elders. Then again, it was difficult not to feel like that in front of such a commanding presence. Princess Celestia seemed to have all the answers, seemed to be the perfect princess the ponies worshipped, but being this close made her see small indents in her apparently immaculate facade.
“I… I guess an immortal life must have its fair share of regrets, too.”
Celestia let out a mirthless chuckle, taken aback by Astrid’s question. “I’ll admit I’ve had a few over the years, but I believe I’ve moved past them.”
“You have?” Astrid dubiously asked, though Celestia’s raised eyebrow made her consider her choice of words. “I-I mean, y-you seem to be—”
“Compunctious?”
“I was going to say sad, but that works, too.” The gryphon shrugged, offering a sympathetic smile, for once devoid of tears.
Celestia paused for a moment, her gaze wandering to the lunar orb still up in the sky. She had been entranced by her conversation with Astrid, and thus, the hours of dawn had already come and gone. The mare in the moon's eye glinted curiously, perhaps awaiting her response. “I think there are some things I cannot forget no matter what I do. Moving on doesn’t always mean forgetting; you should know that. Sometimes moving on means to be at peace with the decisions you’ve made.”
“But… do you regret making those choices? Do you ever want to—”
“Sometimes…” Celestia interrupted her, somehow knowing the direction in which Astrid’s thoughts were going. “Sometimes I would like to rewrite what I’ve done and change the past, but there were choices I had to make, and horrible things would have happened had I not done so. Similar to your actions, I suppose. If you had died here, I might be gone, too,” she said, motioning to her wing.
“What helps you press on? Well, aside from being an almighty alicorn?” Astrid asked, still coming to terms with Celestia’s words of wisdom.
“While I’ll admit alicornhood is quite helpful,” Celestia explained jokingly, “plenty of things help keep me going. My little ponies, for one; I would never forgive myself if anything happened to them. There’s also too much in this world I haven’t seen—you’d think with an immortal life you’d know everything. Then again, life is full of surprises. There is also… love,” she replied hesitantly, looking towards the flustered gryphoness.
“L-love? What about love?” Astrid muttered, trying to decipher the flurry of feelings brewing in her heart from a badly diagnosed case of Nightingale’s syndrome. She wasn’t an expert in falling in love, and gryphons were not as crafty as ponies in showing their feelings; she might have been misreading the signs of affection and kindness that the Princess would have given to anyone in her situation as something more, and that thought scared her.
“Love is a powerful thing, Astrid. More than a mere emotion, love is a force of nature. It is what drives us and what defines us. You see what we are without love in our lives.” She motioned to the ashen pile behind them. “Truly a miserable sight.” Celestia’s wing pulled the gryphon closer.
“Do… do you have a loved one in your life?” Astrid asked bashfully, her wings fluttering erratically at her sides, and her heated blush doing little to hide her thoughts.
“…I just might, Astrid,” she replied with a cryptic smile and a playful glint in her eyes.
The gryphoness didn’t answer; she wasn’t completely sure as to what to say, and for once, the thought wasn’t scary in the slightest. Besides, words didn’t seem to do such an eventful day justice. She preferred to just enjoy the moment, and revel in the comfortable feeling of Celestia’s wing caressing her own.
Eventually, after what seemed an eternity, Celestia pulled back. She took a deep breath and inhaled the night’s cool breeze. “I think I’m ready, Astrid. My ponies must be wondering why it is still night time; I don’t want them planning a retaliation on my behalf.”
Astrid let out a proper chuckle; for the first time in a while, the threat of war didn’t feel as oppressive as before. She knew, by looking into Celestia’s eyes, that all this chaos and destruction was going to end soon. Still, something unknown stirred in the back of her mind, something she couldn’t quite put her claws on. “Will I… Will I see you again?”
“I’m sure the date will be soon, where we can meet again. Not as enemies, but as friends… A-and perhaps… even something else,” Celestia said, smiling warmly at Astrid’s adoring eyes.
“I… I’d love that.”
Celestia turned away from Astrid; her horn shone brightly, followed by a dull ache on the back of her head, a reminder of what had happened. She focused on the moon’s form, willing it down under the horizon. She wasn’t her sister, and her connection with the orb of the night would never be as strong.
But the sun? The sun was hers and hers only, and this daybreak was going to be special—dawn had always meant the start of something new, and this one was going to be no exception. Celestia closed her eyes as she felt the sun’s embrace warming up her insides, like the very first time she raised the celestial light, and she pulled, her wings lifting her up in unison with the sun as it danced above the skyline.
As soon as she touched ground again and opened her eyes, the marvelous pink and orange hues of dawn filled her eyesight, followed by Astrid’s forearms wrapping around her in a hug. “It was beautiful,” the gryphon simply said.
Celestia nodded her agreement, encasing Astrid’s form with her wings. “Shall we?”
Astrid sighed contently, nuzzling into the mare’s fur. “I’m ready.”
And with a flick of magic, both figures disappeared in a flash.