The wicker of the basket pressed into the side of my face, where Moth's staccato trotting had knocked me over. I had realized, very bitterly, that I had no way of keeping my balance. Maybe, if I'd had a horn, I could have braced myself with magic, but I wasn't a unicorn. I didn't know of any of my kind who were.
I felt Moth stop, and I pricked up the ear that wasn't pinned to my skull. We must have reached Celestia's tent.
"Captain Moth." There was a click of metal against metal as the Solar guard sentry saluted. Moth was his superior, and could technically command him, though no captain had issued orders to a soldier of the opposite faction for nearly six hundred years. At any rate, the soldier in me was happy that he had recognized her rank.
Moth set me down with a slight bump, and I slipped down, so that I was lying on my side in the bottom of the basket. I managed to suppress a growl of irritation, but just barely.
"I bear something the Princess needs to see," she replied in her usual monotone. "I seek access to Her Solar Majesty Celestia's temporary chambers."
"My Princess has decreed that none are to be allowed in," the sentry responded. "I apologize, Captain."
"She must make an exception in this case." Moth's voice became edged with steel. "My burden requires her immediate attention."
There was a pause. I heard a rustle of feathers, and pictured the guard shifting his wings.
"I'll grant you access," he said finally. "But first, I must inspect the basket. Even in the wake of the Nightmare's defeat, the threats to Celestia are seemingly endless."
Moth sighed. "Must you? I understand. But I must warn you--it is not pleasant, and you cannot speak of it to anypony else."
She drew back the edge of the hoofkerchief that covered the basket, exposing part of me. I aimed my one visible eye up at her.
"I'm sorry, Captain, but I resent being called 'it'," I said.
The Solar guard, who had been peering into the basket, leaped backwards with a shout. His hoof met his breastplate with a loud clang as he forcibly etched a sun over his heart.
Moth hastily flipped the kerchief back over me, without deigning to right me.
"Calm yourself, soldier!" she snapped. "It's only a bit of black magic, nothing you didn't see during the Lunar War."
"During the War, severed heads stilled and did not speak!" he exclaimed. But he seemed to be calming down. "With all due respect, Captain, why, in the name of all things beneath the sacred Sun, do you think it's a good idea to bring a talking head to the Princess?"
"Because he is a remnant of the Nightmare's magic, and I believe such an occurrence should be reported to Celestia."
"I--I will not question you, Captain," he said shakily. There was a rustle of silk and canvas as he drew open the main flap of the tent. "Only wish you luck."
"And I thank you for it." Moth picked the basket up again and trotted into the tent.
I swung in silence as we moved through the many rooms of Celestia's quarters. I listened to the rustle of fabric as more flaps were opened for us and Moth exchanged curt greetings with the other guards in the tent. Finally, I caught a smoky scent of wild roses and plains grass--scented candles, imported from the sea provinces. Celestia's favorites.
How in the stars do I know that? Had I somehow learned it during the War I didn't remember?
My basket was set down, and I heard the leather bindings of Moth's armor creak as she bowed.
"Princess Celestia. Regent of the Sun, Keeper of Harmony, Beacon--"
"We see no need for such an address," a lyrical voice interrupted quietly. "Be at ease, soldier of our beloved sister. Why hast thou come to us?"
I blinked. I recognized the voice of Celestia, but I had never heard it so heavy with exhaustion and regret.
"Before I show you, Princess, I would suggest you send the foal from the room," Moth said, matching her volume.
"Our niece is young in both body and mind, if not in years," Celestia replied. "She will not remember. Whatever thou hast come to show us, we will also permit the Princessling to see."
Moth bowed again, and I heard a soft coo that could only have come from Cadance. The silk was whisked off, and she lifted me out of the basket, the metal of her boots icy against my face. She presented me to Celestia.
I had never seen the Solar Princess so closely before, but even tired and battle-weary, she was easily the most beautiful mare I had ever laid eyes on. If I'd still had wings, they would have been up within moments. As it was, I had to fight to keep my crest down.
She was sprawled on a pile of silken cushions, in a position that would have been unbearably sultry if there hadn't been a foal nestled against her. Her legs were fantastically long and slender, her blazing white coat was unblemished, and the curve of her flank could drive a stallion to murder. Her sleek wings were folded primly, though one was swathed in bandages, and the delicate spire of her horn was nestled amid a tousled mane of pink silk, the same shade as the hoofkerchief. I'd give up what was left of me to be able to sink my muzzle into that. And if prompted me to fantasize about what Celestial wonders were hidden from me by her position.
The only things that kept me from actively drooling were her eyes. Violet and slightly canted, they settled an ache into the approximate place of my heart. Never mind that that place was no longer actually attached to me. I had never seen pain like this, or loss--though I supposed that if somepony you had known for literally thousands of years was suddenly ripped away from you, it might inspire feelings that deep.
The Princess studied me for a few wingbeats before returning the terrible weight of her gaze to Moth.
"Thou hast borne to us the head of a soldier who perished in the final battle against the accursed Nightmare," she said evenly. "Why hast thou done this?"
I finally managed to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth, and spoke before Moth could.
"Because, Your Majesty, I did not perish," I said in a soft voice. The foal Cadance seemed to be sleeping, and I did not want to wake her.
Celestia's attention flicked back to me. Being careful not to disturb the foal, she rose to her full height. She was almost a full head taller than I was. Had been.
Moth set me down, on the rich rugs that covered the floor, and then backed away. I closed my eyes and concentrated on not making a complete and utter mule of myself as Celestia approached, then lowered her head towards me. I felt the buzz of magic as she ignited her horn. Then she drew back.
"The magic of the Nightmare surrounds thee," she said. "And yet it only feeds thy faculties--it does not corrupt thee. How can this be?"
"I have no idea," I replied honestly.
She stood over me, examining me again. Finally, she glanced back up at Moth.
"We thank thee for thy delivery of this crafting of the Nightmare's," she said formally. "Thou art dismissed. Many fine geldings shall be dispatched to thy quarters this night."
I twisted around to see Moth's reaction, managing to keep my balance. She went as red as a sunset under her coat and began to stammer, eyes wide.
"Errr--Princess, I'm m-mar--"
"How foalish of us." Celestia pressed a hoof to her brow in apparent embarrassment. "Geldings art no longer an appropriate form of thanks, art they? Thou must forgive us, we art weary. We shall send thee a barrel of aged mead instead. Dost thou find this satisfactory?"
"Yes, Princess, thank you." Moth dipped her head and moved forward to collect me. But the Princess held up a hoof.
"Leave him be," she ordered. "We wish to examine him further."
"Of course."
Without a backward glance, she turned and ducked for the flap, disappearing.
I looked back to Celestia.
"Princess," I acknowledged her nervously.
"What be thy title, spell-born?" she answered.
"Poison Dart. My Lady," I hastily added.
"We though thee dead in defense of us, and yet we did not know thy name." She shook her head. "We art not fit to rule."
I had no idea how to respond to that. A comment about the sharp curve of her muzzle came to mind, but I chose not to voice it.
A loud yawn saved me from having to answer. The Princessling had awoken. She was a handsome enough foal, I supposed. Her coat was a pale pink, deepening to violet at the tips of her miniature wings. A tiny stub of a horn was almost hidden beneath a mess of rose, gold, and purple curls. Her flank was as yet unmarked, and her purple eyes were still the solid color of a newborn.
She struggled unsteadily to her hooves and looked pleadingly at her "aunt."
"Westia," she said plaintively.
"Cady," the Princess cooed back, turning to look at her. She returned to the pile of cushions, tenderly nuzzling the smaller alicorn.
After a few moments of this, I loudly cleared my throat. Celestia looked up.
"We apologize, but we simply have no time for thee right now," she said imperiously. A cloud of buzzing magic enfolded me, and I was whisked away to be unceremoniously dumped on a spare cushion. At least I landed upright. "Thou wilt be still until such a time as we call upon thee."
I stared at her.
"Princess, please," I began. "I am a talking head. I would prefer you remedied the situation sooner rather than later--as payment for my, er, great sacrifice, of course."
Celestia paused in her cuddling of Cadance.
"Thou believeth we hath the power to heal thee?" she asked quietly. "We art no goddess, Dart, no matter how much the peasantry may wish us to be. Perhaps we could restore thee to thy previous form if--if...Luna were here to aid us." She hesitated, and when she continued, her voice was thick. "Alas, she is not, as we are certain thy knowest."
"But there must be some way to--"
"We could scour thee of Nightmare Moon's foul power," she said harshly. "Remove the only thing that keeps thy lifeblood in thy braincase rather than flowing out thy gaping maw of a fatal wound. Wouldst thou prefer that?"
I took a moment to unfreeze my tongue and managed to murmur, "No, Princess, I am quite happy as I am."
"We thought as much." She settled down, but I could still see the tension in her withers and wings. Shapely parts, both, if you overlooked those bandages.
In an effort to keep my thoughts off her good wing, I looked up at the canvas roof of the tent, which rippled in the wind. I must have overbalanced, because I soon found myself on my back.
I scowled up at the rippling roof, blaming it for all my problems.
It was going to be a long, long...life.