by Palaikai
***
We lost.
I keep replaying the events in my head, trying to figure out where we went wrong, but I guess all that matters in the end is that we were forced-out. The others … I don't know if they're still alive or not, all those who remained loyal – what few of them were left at the end – to Celestia when Canterlot fell.
This distant forest, somewhere at the edge of Equestria, is our home now; a run-down shack is something of an adjustment after a fabulous palace, but it will suffice. It almost doesn't matter because we're finally together, alone, which is something I've been craving for years now. I know it's wrong, and I feel the shame coursing through me, but I can't help how I feel.
Something is wrong with her, though; it seems that the further we get from Canterlot, the more her mental condition deteriorates. I hope against hope that it's just a side-effect of the onerous war, that she'll eventually adjust to her new circumstances, but I'm not confident.
“Twilight Sparkle,” she says, her voice chipper, “what should we do today?”
“Uh,” I reply, uncertainty gripping me. Celestia is capable of moments of perfect lucidity, but they are few and far between. “Food,” I finish, affecting as sincere a smile as I can manage. “We need to find food.”
She approaches me; her mane is dishevelled and ragged, having long ago lost its sheen. The pure white coat is dirty and bedraggled. There's a madness to her eyes; pain and rage, hurt and loss, and it scares me. “I have a better idea,” she whispers saucily in my ear before nibbling on it.
I push her away, both affronted and aroused; I want her, with every fibre of my being, but … not like this. I want to cry, but I have to remain strong. One of us has to.
Celestia looks at me with a scowl. Her ire, even in her weakened condition, is a terrible thing and I brace myself to receive her wrath. “No,” she decides, turning to face the dilapidated wall. “You're not worth it.”
It's the single most hurtful thing she could've said, and she knows it. “Maybe you should rest, Princess,” I say, choking back a sob. “I'll have a look around.”
I'm about to open the door when a small, sad voice says, “Twilight?”
“Mm?”
“Stay with me. Please.”
She slumps down on the bed, exhausted both physically and spiritually, and I edge in next to her; Celestia puts her forelegs around my waist, holding me close. She can't quite look at me. “I'm sorry. I'm just … not myself at the moment.”
“I know,” I reply, blinking back tears. “It'll be fine tomorrow.”
But it wasn't. Still, it was better than nothing.