The Last Nightguard
Die and Die Again
“Death benefits for serving members of the Royal Guard differ somewhat from retirees, depending on circumstances (See Table xiv, page 475). Survivors should reference the line in the table that best approximates the certificate provided them, with allowances for location of service (See Table xv, Page 478) and pay allowances, calculated separately.”
— Manual of the Royal Guard, Volume Four, Appendix Eight
The new day did not bring word of the guard’s death, and Celestia dared not ask. She took refuge in the comfort of routine, even when said comfortable routine was difficult to find with the entire palace still in shock over Luna’s return. Part of her approach was to dampen the ease at which her little ponies went into panic at the slightest excuse. Part of it was denial. It was far too easy to think of signing routine papers and attending routine meetings as a necessity. Luna would come out and greet the common ponies in her own time. They would see what a wonderful princess she could be and give her the adoration she craved.
When lunch passed yet again with no sign of Luna, she accepted the excuses of the staff who said the missing princess was ‘fatigued’ after her ordeal, and would be dining in her quarters.
The same for dinner that evening.
And breakfast the next morn.
And the next.
There was a certain reluctance of her little ponies to bring up topics they thought their Princess might find discomforting, a habit that Celestia had fought against all of her living memory. She was large, and therefore triggered some portion of the pony hindbrain present since foalhood that equated ‘large’ with ‘motherly’ in most cases. It had made any kind of intimate relationship a near-impossibility—except a number of odd ones over the years—and caused mental ruts in Celestia’s thinking when dealing with the various disasters and diplomatic interactions she had experienced. Finding herself absently sticking down an awkward bit of crest feathers on a griffon war-ambassador sprung immediately to mind, despite the dispute being well over two centuries ago, and resolving itself almost immediately with a treaty that still stood at the present day.
Twilight Sparkle at least had been quite eager to bring any and all troublesome problems to her Princess for analysis and praise. Of course, if she had not told Celestia about the most recent problem, he would still be imprisoned in the moon, fading away into oblivion without anypony knowing.
...like Luna.
Parchment rustled as Celestia changed positions on her uncomfortable throne, reminding her of similarly uncomfortable obligations. Twilight had written twice asking about Luna and… him. Having her Faithful Student so far away in Ponyville was like missing a tooth. Every minute of the day, she kept expecting a small purple shadow to emerge nearby with a whole series of interlaced questions. Celestia was well-aware of various religious sects in parts of Equestria who worshiped her as a goddess; Twilight would never think of Celestia as quite that small. She trusted her Princess as a plant trusted that the sun would come out the next day. In her eyes, Celestia just was.
Still, Celestia could not find the inner strength to put quill to parchment. There were no answers to Twilight’s questions, or at least no answers yet.
And when Celestia found herself walking into the hospital wing later that day, she found no answers, only more questions.
“Luna? What are you doing here?” Celestia had intended on just slipping to the doorway and peeking in on the ailing ancient stallion. Her quieted hoofsteps had obviously gone undetected, due to the way Luna jerked upright in surprise from where she had been resting by the doorway.
“Waiting,” whispered Luna after a time. She ducked her head and peered into the room by way of opening the door just a crack, then let the door soundlessly close. “There have been so many chirugeons and apothecaries who hath… have visited him.”
“There has been no change in his condition, then?” Celestia found herself whispering too, despite the fact she had nothing to hide.
Giving a short shake of her head, Luna stared down at the tile floor with no expression at all. As if the silent sister was some kind of curse, Celestia likewise could not think of any words to say. There should have been a fight, with angry shouts and vicious insults, so the Royal Sisters could once again be joined together in bonds of apology and forgiveness, or at least that was what the newspapers insisted on printing. Reporters were giddy at the concept of a second ruling alicorn, and were churning out optimistic stories just as fast as the presses could turn. The servants around the palace were just as happy with a new princess who happened to be closer to their stature, and had busied themselves with tasks designed to bring Luna into the modern world as fast as possible. No doubt there were contractor ponies working frantically in Luna’s currently empty rooms for the few minutes they had, stripping away any sign that Twilight Sparkle had once called it home and filling the area with moon-based decor.
Her prison has followed her home. And now her cellmate has returned. No wonder she looks so miserable.
As much as Celestia wanted to stay and comfort her sister, she could remember far too well how sharply Luna would react when she was in one of her moods. When every action taken was returned as bitter bile, it was too easy to take her words as a challenge, to compete with Luna in a war of verbiage that turned into actual blows, and the last thing Equestria needed was for them to start fighting again.
“If you need anything—” started Celestia, only to be cut off by Luna’s sharp retort.
“I don’t. I have everything I need. Just… leave me for now.”
Celestia left as quietly as she arrived, remaining aloof and calm like a princess should. Or at least until she reached her rooms and began to cry.
* * *
Days of silent vigil by the ailing stallion’s room left Luna with new respect for this future world’s medicine. In her days, physicians wearing elaborate headgear would dose ponies with random concoctions that could easily kill their patients while they all pretended to be ponies of great knowledge and wisdom. So much had changed. The physicians no longer wore silly hats, for starters.
Once Celestia had departed, and Luna had waited a few more hours to ensure she actually had departed, she moved forward, through the hospital door and into the room before she lost her nerve. There was only one nurse on duty at the moment, a timid pale pink thing with huge eyes that reflected Luna’s impassive visage, and Luna’s exacting memory picked her name out of the chatter she had been silently absorbing for the last few evenings.
“Nurse Cottonball, We wish privacy with your patient,” said Luna just as calmly as she could.
“He… um… I should get a doctor,” said the nurse.
“You are entrusted with the responsibility of his care,” said Luna calmly with the slightest sideways tilt to her head. “Will my visit interfere with any treatment or procedure?”
“um… no,” said the nurse in a very small voice while eyeing the door on the other side of Luna.
“Verily, his condition has been quietly slipping for some time,” continued Luna, “and the doctors have decided not to inform us.”
The nurse said nothing, but her expression spoke volumes.
“Leave us.” Luna moved to one side and cleared the line of retreat for the trembling nurse, who did not in fact leave.
“I can’t—” she started, only to get cut off by Luna stepping forward and fixing her with an intense glare.
“That was not a request,” she said plainly. “Your patient has been cut off from his natural world for centuries. His internal fire has been depleted to mere embers. I would fain replace a small fraction of it with mine own. Without this, he will most certainly die.”
It was a lie most foul, but at the moment, Luna did not care. She watched the nurse scurry away, then placed a barrier upon the closed door. The only creature in Equestria who could break it would be Celestia, and even then, it would give enough time to do what Luna planned.
She hated herself for her actions.
A few swift motions of her magic plucked most wires and tubes from the ailing stallion, although it took much longer to remove the lengthy tube stuck down his nose, and the fatter tube stuffed down his throat. It did not disturb him in the least, and Luna ran a swift spell across his motionless body to determine the reason.
“Fel poisons and cloying elixirs,” she muttered under her breath, charging her magic to burn the foul drugs from his blood. “They would fain have a brave Guard meet his end in a mindless stupor rather than face the Pale Mare with his teeth bared to fight.” It was not precisely an accurate curse, since his mouth was bereft of intact teeth, but her own blood had begun to boil at the indignity, even moreso when the stallion shifted in his bed and his red-rimmed eyes snapped open.
“Ebon Tide, Warleader of the Third Cohort of the Nightguard,” said Luna sharply.
The only response she received was a slight increase in his rough breathing and a minor stirring of his bound limbs. The heavy straps binding him to the shining steel bed were terribly overdone, because she doubted he could even move if released.
“The doctors say you will die,” said Luna. “Your Princess says they are wrong. A thousand years you spent in my prison, bathed in the bile of my weakness, and yet I shall not release you from your oath. To your last breath, to the last drop of blood in your body, to the end of your days, that is what you swore to both of us. Your last act was to strike your Sovereign, to draw back your hoof and attack that which you swore to protect. We shall not see your life pass on this one final disgrace. We shall not allow your failure to taint the history of our Guard.”
“Die,” rasped the feeble stallion through a dry throat. “Traitor.”
“You hate me so much that it drove you to the greatest dishonor,” said Luna. “We are well aware of my own failure. We shall live with it until the end of our days. There is nothing that can be done for it. Yours, however…”
Luna lit her horn with a dark, greenish magic, and Ebon Tide’s red eyes grew large.
“As I granted the cohorts of your fellow Guards a small portion of my power when I was taken over by my disgrace, I now bequeath upon you the power which you would not accept then. You are the last of my Nightguard, and your duty remains. Take this power and use it to feed the flames of your rage. Let your hatred for me drive you to live. Cherish that hate, hold it close to you, and let it guard you from the deep darkness which swallows mortals whole.”
Dark magic cascaded down from Luna’s horn and engulfed the helpless stallion, who thrashed violently in his bonds and straps. “Hate me,” whispered Luna as the magic did its job. “Despise me with every portion of your body, with your every thought and deed. Know that I stole you away from family and friends, from your entire world, and loathe me. Look upon my gift and think of your companions, all dead and gone because of my vile actions.”
With one last burst of power, Luna’s spell was complete, and the magic cut off with a fading glow of violet still surrounding the wide-eyed stallion.
“Live,” said Luna. “Recover your strength and return to my side. Your oath demands you complete a single final task before you are permitted to depart this world.”
With that, Luna strode slowly out of the room, allowing the barrier to fade away as she passed.