Hemorrhage’s heart twisted as he felt Joint writhe in agony in his grasp, her moan of pain causing his soul to shudder. This was what he had worked so hard to prevent from happening, distancing himself from her and keeping himself checked. He’d done everything he thought he could do to prevent the mare he loved from becoming his victim. Everything but keeping her from getting close to him.
They were in Khan’s cave now, Joint’s groans of agony echoing on the gold-veined walls. From time to time, she would quiver in his grip as another part of her became less than pony. She had tried to talk more, to comfort him, but she had quickly become too weakened. All Hemorrhage could do was hold her, his wings shielding her completely from the slightest light. He stared at her through the darkness, his eyes able to see enough to know her fur was changing.
It was strange and terrifying to physically feel her transformation, parts of her fur suddenly die and shed away before being replaced by stronger, wiry fur. She was maybe halfway done with this second stage of the transformation when her fur became nocturnal. From what she had said earlier about her blood burning, he could only guess how much time it would take for her organs and muscles to transform completely. Because she would be transforming into a mordigan, though, her skin wouldn’t need to change tonight. It would come with time.
For a fleeting second, Hemorrhage gave thought to that. Joint would be a mordigan by the time the sun rose. The love of his eternal life would be like him, a nocturnal, a mordigan. A monster.
No, not her. Joint would never be a monster, not even as a nocturnal.
As strange and thrilling as it was that Joint would be becoming a mordigan, living an eternal life, he had to force himself to focus. She was at her most delicate right now, halfway between pony and mordigan, which meant she would also be at her most painful. She shuddered again in his arms, a low groan escaping her as her eyes squeezed even harder. One of her hooves which pressed against his chest suddenly spasmed, shooting up and hitting him in the chin.
His teeth clacked together but he remained perfectly still. In his mind, though, he was beginning to panic. Her hooves were beginning the transformation from normal chitinous hooves to padded paws armed with lethal claws, which would also come with her body growing in size. After that came the worst part of the transformation from being a pony to becoming a mordigan, a part that was seared into his mind through agony and desperate screams of pain. The wings.
Wings were such a fundamental and terrible part of being a mordigan that one couldn’t survive without them, yet they extracted their toll on the body. In the growth of a mordigan, they were years of pain, and in the transformation of one, it was searing torture as they burst from the back, splitting through sensitive skin and muscle. Even after hundreds of years of having them, they were painful to use, requiring the body to push aside muscle and extend the wings. The trauma from their growth also left an impression on them that was not easily forgotten by the mind, one Hemorrhage had taken centuries to rid himself of.
Hemorrhage snapped out of his thoughts as a yelp escaped Joint, another of her hooves spasming, though this one hit him in the chest. Closing his eyes, not wanting to watch her continue going through the pain, he pulled her in slightly, pressing his forehead on hers. Whether she even registered the move or not was beyond him, but hopefully it would give her a little more comfort. He kept his paws carefully cradling her as he shifted his legs slightly, the uneven ground of the cave not helping him stay still.
All the while Ailade was tending to his more grievous wounds, using some of the cave moss and cool water to clean the wounds. From time to time, she would have to pull out a piece of broken weaponry, but thanks to his nocturnal form, he was able to endure the process silently. Argon sat quietly in the corner, watching. For other transformations, such as becoming a vampyre, ompyre, or werewolf, two or three other nocturnals were needed for a successful transformation. Though depending on the nocturnal, the term “successful” varied from just surviving the transformation to having the conscious capability to turn back into a pony again.
Mordigans, of course, were solitary in transformation, though the presence of Hemorrhage’s master had helped him retain his sanity through the torture of becoming a nocturnal. He just prayed that his presence would be enough for Joint to keep her sanity and be able to control her transitions between mare and mordigan.
The hoof pressed against Hemorrhage’s chest suddenly began to quake, causing his breath to hitch. The trembling hoof continued to shake, though as it did so, he felt it slowly splitting into different parts. Swallowing hard, he attempted to keep his breathing calm, nuzzling his head against Joint’s. The mare panted hard in between moans of agony, each one rending his heart that much more. Luna, why had he let her get so close? How could he have let this happen to her, let her continue pursuing him?
A sudden twitch of her hoof led to the first scream from her as the newly developed claws suddenly extended, stretching new muscle and destroying the old ones. Hemorrhage let out a shaky breath, a few tears escaping as he felt her sharp, new claws press surprisingly gently against his chest. A second hoof transformed just moments later, eliciting another heartbreaking scream from Joint. This time, the claw was less gentle, slightly puncturing his skin. Grimacing, he patiently waited for Joint to still enough to shift, making sure his blood didn’t drip onto her.
The transformation of her front two paws was quickly followed by her hind legs, though they each took several minutes to finish transforming. Either Joint was already building her pain tolerance or the hind legs were less painful because she didn’t even groan once the entire time. Once the last claw extended, she fell somewhat still, quaking in pain instead of writhing in it, soft whimpers escaping her. Hemorrhage wanted to do more to comfort her, to squeeze her into a hug or to kiss her, but both of those felt too self-indulgent and unwarranted for her situation. Contenting himself with simply stroking her back while holding her, he tried to softly hush her as if she were a babe.
“Hemorrhage, is it done,” Ailade asked, her voice trembling even while she finished stitching a nasty stab wound.
“Far from it,” he softly replied, only his one paw moving to brush through the fur of her back.
“Sweet Luna,” Argon cursed, suddenly very close to the three of them. “This is why you never talked about your transformation?”
“This is why I wanted to keep Joint away,” Hemorrhage growled, though he attempted to keep from getting too angry. With a sigh, he muttered, “This is one of the reasons why I was content in letting Joint go and live life happily.”
“It was inevitable, Hemorrhage,” Ailade said, stepping away from the mordigan as she finished the stitches.
“No, it wasn’t,” he rumbled, struggling to keep calm. In his paws, Joint let out a shuddering breath, a slight moan escaping as well. “It was very much preventable, but the fault is as much mine as it is yours.”
“She loves you, and there was nothing that was going to stop that mare from joining you,” she declared, resting a hoof on his back. “Even if every one of us had tried to stop her, nothing short of tying her up would have prevented this from happening. It just would have meant a lot longer of a time with her not being one of us. Not being able to be with you.”
“How can you say that,” Hemorrhage questioned, disgusted. “How could you speak as if her mind was your own, as if the future were so damn certain?” Pausing, the anger leaving him as Joint let out another moan, shuddering, he felt cold. Softly, he asked, “How could she love me after this?”
“You’ve stuck with her this entire time, haven’t you,” Argon pointed out. “You’re still taking responsibility and helping her the best you can, even though you’re suffering as well. But you’re right. We shouldn’t put words into Joint’s mouth. She will tell you the truth once she comes through this.”
“In the meantime, I don’t think it’s healthy for you to be like this, watching her go through all the pain you did,” Ailade began hesitantly. “You’ve made it through the worst part. Why don’t you let Argon and I take over while you get some rest?”
“That wasn’t the worst of it,” Hemorrhage muttered softly, staring at Joint’s face. It was scrunched up with pain, her breath now coming out short and shallow. Seeing her beautiful face in such agony tore apart his heart, flaring the rage he felt that this was happening. However, his own words came back to him and he managed to temper himself.
“Th-that wasn’t the worst part,” Ailade questioned, sounding horrified.
“The wings, they’re the worst,” the mordigan managed to mumble, his voice breaking as he did so. “They tear through your new skin and muscle, force their way out and develop slowly. The bones and muscles feel like burning knives while they form, and your body loses the last bit of normality through the unnatural formation of the wings. It leaves a trauma that the body and mind don’t soon forget. It took me centuries to overcome it.”
“Well, in that case…” Ailade began, slowly. Suddenly, he felt the mare’s hooves on his back, climbing up him.
Still remaining motionless, Hemorrhage inquired, “What are you doing?”
“Don’t hate me for this, please,” was all the warning he got before he suddenly felt a sharp pin prick in his neck. Gasping, he felt a coolness spread from the spot where the werewolf had injected him with something. Before he could say anything, though, he felt a wave of grogginess slam into him like a boulder, causing him to start falling backwards as his eyes felt forced shut. In only seconds, he was laid out on the ground, fast asleep.
“Um, Ailade, what in Celestia’s holy name was that,” Argon exclaimed, rushing over to the fallen Hemorrhage.
Carefully moving to pick up the quivering Joint from off the mordigan’s bleeding chest, Ailade replied, “Twenty milliliters of cyanide.”
“Cyanide,” Argon repeated, dumbfounded, before shouting, “Cyanide? Why the hell do you have cyanide? In what circumstance would you need cyanide?”
“This one, apparently,” the werewolf answered curtly. Grunting, she lifted Joint and slowly moved her to the bed of moss she had prepared while Hemorrhage had been distracted. “I thought there might be a chance he would let me take over taking care of Joint, but he’s too stubbornly selfless for that! He was going to force himself to suffer through Joint’s entire transformation as punishment for allowing it to happen. How do you think that would have panned out?”
“Poorly,” Argon admitted, moving over to help her lay down the quivering mare. “But how do you think this will pan out?”
“Poorly for me, but fine for everypony else,” Ailade sharply retorted. “Luna, I really hope Joint wakes up before Hemorrhage though. Otherwise, I might have to ditch until she comes to.”
“Yeah, doesn’t really help that this is all coming off the back of us all plotting to get Joint here in the first place,” Argon muttered. “If Seer wasn’t such a romantic, I might have told Hemorrhage.” The lycan glanced over to the sleeping mordigan, his composure softening at the sight of what might be Hemorrhage’s first good sleep in days. “Then again, the poor stallion needs a healthy dose of love in his life, doesn’t he?”
“Exactly,” Ailade replied, sitting down beside Joint. She had laid her on her side so that when her wings came sprouting out, they wouldn’t be pushing against the ground. While watching Hemorrhage protect the mare so completely from anything that could endanger her was heartwarming, Ailade knew she needed more space to writhe and breath. Still, a new appreciation for the mare was growing in her, the lack of complaint when she could talk combined with the brash, if somewhat stupid, initiative she had taken. She looked forward to having this mare as a friend, even maybe as a sister.
“Well, um, what now,” Argon asked, wincing as another groan escaped Joint.
Resting a paw on her shoulder, Ailade muttered, “We help them through the worst of it.”