A Tale of Two Returns

by Al Capony

(2) It's time to wake up

Luna sat on her haunches, considering what to do as sleep continued to tug at the edge of her consciousness. As much as she wanted to be more alert the best she could manage was a sense of avid curiosity, being much too exhausted after her week of parlaying with nobles and the like.

The wind howled softly as its currents ebbed and flowed between the towers of Canterlot, blowing the curtains by Luna’s balcony. Up and down they ruffled intermittently, muffling the sound of the nightlife below.

Could this thing be related to the disaster Discord spoke of?

Luna pondered on this thought, observing the steady rising and falling of the creature's chest as she stifled a yawn. It wasn’t particularly late, though the day’s events had left her more fatigued than usual.

Rising to her she started pacing about the room, treading back and forth on the soft carpet. Many centuries ago, before her banishment - when she still lived in the old castle - Celestia had gifted her an enchanted rug specifically to prevent her from boring grooves in the stone floor from her pacing habits; the repair bills otherwise were enormous. Luna chuckled at the memory before turning her attention back to the issue at hand.

I can’t leave it here while I sleep, yet nor can I stay awake much longer.

Drawing upon her many years of experience, she decided upon the wisest course of action: poking it with a long stick. Looking around for something adequate for her needs, she soon found said something in the form of a leg from an unused telescope stand. Detaching it from the rest of the stand, she carefully levitated it towards her target before prodding it in the abdomen.

Nothing.

She repeated the action, this time a little harder, eliciting a small response - the thing brought its arm round and scratched where it had been poked.

Perhaps it is hibernating for the winter and will need something more to wake it?

She intensified the jabbing, relentlessly harassing the creature until it began to stir.

“Piss off… I’m trying to sleep,” it mumbled, rolling onto it’s front and resting its head on one of its forearms.

Luna frowned at this - on the one hoof, it seemed to speak her language, which was good; on the other, its first words were expletives. Aimed at a Princess no less! Luna was having none of this - she grasped it in a telekinetic field and shoved it across the room. That got its attention.

“Gah!” it exclaimed, bolting upright. Stretching its back, it yawned with abandon, revealing a set of pointy canines. “Whaddya want?” it grumbled, not amused with being woken at all.

“Good evening,” Luna began, “I am-”

“Evening?” the creature remarked, rubbing its eyes. Having removed the last traces of sleep, it looked up and continued, “Jesus, I slept. Last thing I knew it was the middle of the-” the creature locked eyes with the… thing to his right “-day.”

He cocked a quizzical eyebrow at the thing before him. The thing responded with one of its own, mirroring his expression.

“A unicorn with wings? Or a pegasus with a horn? Huh… Must still be dreaming,” the creature murmured, and promptly lay back on the soft carpet, soon to awake.

“Dream? This is no dream,” the thing replied. “And for your information, I am an alicorn. Have you not heard of my kind before?” it asked with a curious, yet somehow regal, tone.

“Holy shit it speaks!” he responded, eyebrows at the edge of his hairline. Startled, he got to his feet, staring at the navy alicorn. “What the fuck did I eat earlier to end up this lucid? That is weird…”

Suddenly distracted by his surroundings, he glanced around, marvelling at the decor his subconscious had produced.

The room was roughly circular, with stone walls painted all shades of blue, from cyan to navy, in glorious patterns of clouds and stars. The floor was covered in a dark grey - almost black - carpet, with large crimson swirls across the surface.

Light came from glowing bulbs at the end of branches; branches on trees that appeared to grow right out of the floor. On one side of room were some bookshelves beside a desk, with star maps, a sextant and a compass strewn across its surface. A number of telescopes were stacked next to the desk, along with a few stands to mount them on; one of them was missing a leg.

In the centre of the space was a truly magnificent bed: a mattress cradled in the base of crescent moon, carried on clouds, with a canopy draped from the top, and next to that hung yet another glowing bulb. Above the bed floated an impression of an ever spinning spiral galaxy, the stars and galaxies mesmerising him as he gazed at it in wonder.

Pulling his eyes away, he wondered over to the balcony, past a couple more telescopes and a large pile of recently-dusted books. Stepping out past the curtains onto the stone surface beyond, he took in a deep breath the crisp night air, leaning on the edge of the terrace.

The city of canterlot lay before him, lamps radiant with magic providing light and warmth to those on the cobbled pavements. Roof upon roof filled his field of view, a sea of tiles stretching out along the land.

“It’s beautiful… but now it’s time to wake up,” the creature mused, before leaning further forward on the ledge, then over it completely.

The alicorn gasped as he fell from her view, darting over to the balcony to see the him hurtling towards the ground. Wind rushed past him, howling in his ears as he embraced the familiar rising feeling in the pit of his stomach, pure weightlessness.

Luna, meanwhile, concentrated on trying to slow his descent before snatching him with her magic, trying to avoid killing him by halting his plunge too quickly.

With a delayed jerk he found himself suspended in the air, about halfway high to the tower he’d come down from. He had a moment to question the state of affairs before he was suddenly dragged upwards through the air, back to the balcony, and deposited at the hooves of a rather disturbed Luna. If he’d looked up at that point he would’ve been face to face with a scowling navy alicorn.

Did it just attempt suicide!? For whatever purpose!?

“Huh,” it wondered aloud, “that’s never happened before. This is one trippy dream…”

Luna scuffed a hoof to get its attention. “This is no dream, creature! Why did you-”

She was cut off with a finger to the muzzle, “Shush, horses don’t talk; it’s doing my head in.”

“W-w-what?” Luna spluttered in shock and indignant rage, but before she could say anything further it had already brushed past her, back into her bedchambers.

Striding confidently to one side of the room, it picked up a compass from the desk beside the bookshelves, its sharp point glittering in the moonlight. “If this is no dream, then I might actually feel something from this,” the creature contemplated aloud in a mocking tone.

Luna caught on to what it intended to do, but before she could interject the compass was already coming down. She stared, wide eyed, as it sunk into the flesh of its left forearm without a sound.

There was a momentary silence as the creatures eyes dilated, adrenaline flooding through its body and brain in response to the sensory explosion in its nerves.

“YEEEEEOOOUCH!” it screamed, clutching the wound on its arm, pulling it to its chest. At some point the compass had fallen to the ground, the point stained red. Blood dripped onto the carpet, carmine blending with crimson. It sucked in through clenched teeth and exhaled a slow, shuddering breath.

Luna tentatively stepped forward, shocked and confused by the actions of the creature before her. “Are you alright?” she asked, a look of concern on her face where a few seconds ago there had been anger.

It jumps to what would have been its death, calls its saviour a whorse then stabs itself in the arm? And is surprised when it hurts? Whatever it is, it must be insane…

“No I’m not fucking alright! That fucking hurt!” the creature yelled in response.

…

His eyes flew wide as realisation dawned on his face, staring in horror at his bleeding arm. The pain faded. The sound of rushing blood filled his ears. His heart rate skyrocketed.

If I’m feeling pain- he locked eyes with the… thing… before him -then this really is no dream.

Sensation left him and his body felt numb, blackness filling his vision as he slumped to the floor. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness were the confused words of the thing standing above him.

“I do hope this blood will wash out of the carpet…”

~~~~~

“Oh, you’re awake.” The voice was sweet, though unfamiliar. The human struggled to open his eyes as a bright light shone on his face from above. “How are you feeling?” the voice asked cheerily, accompanied by a sharp burning in his arm.

“Like shit,” he responded offhandedly. He remained in a daze for a few seconds as the memories from before he blacked out assaulted him. He didn’t have the energy to freak out - after his little escapade with a pointy thing, he was far too exhausted.

“What the fuck is happening with my life?” he mused aloud to nobody in particular.

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t answer that question. Would you mind if I asked a few though?”

“What the hell, why not. Go for it,” he groaned, followed by a sigh.

“Well for starters, could you open your eyes please?”

He obliged her, assuming she was a she from the sound of her voice. His eyelids parted to come face to face with the source of the unpleasant brightness: a torch, glowing in a lilac hue, suspended in the air before him. He was somewhat taken aback by the whole levitating part, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d seen that night.

“Good, now please could you just follow the light with your eyes please?”

She’s awfully polite for a torch, most of the ones I ever used just refused to turn on.

The torch hovered left then right and back again, followed closely by the human.

“Well, it doesn’t seem you’ve suffered from concussion or brain damage...”

Coulda fooled me.

“...Though I can’t be entirely sure, seeing as how I’m in the dark about how you work,” the voice added sheepishly.

“Hehe, ‘in the dark’ - I see what you did there.”

No you didn’t, it’s so bright you can’t see shit

There was silence for a few seconds, bar the sound of soft snoring a few meters away.

“Um, see what I did where? Sorry, I don’t really understand…” said the voice, sounding rather confused.

“In the dark? Because you’re a torch?” he elaborated.

He heard a chuckle coming from his left - a sweet, twittering sound.

“I’m not a torch silly! Look over here.”

Turning his head to his left he found himself face to face with a purple unicorn mare, her lilac mane tied up in a bun behind her.

Oh… another one.

“Hello, my name is Nurse Fairheart. And who are you?”

Emptiness... Silence... Void.

Who am I?

“I… I don’t know.” he replied, confused. Gears stuttered in his head, his thoughts a blur.

I know things - I know physics, chemistry, philosophy, maths and all kinds of things… I know I’m not from here and I know that this isn’t normal. But I don’t know what normal is... I know nothing of me… Who am I? Where am I from? Who are my friends, my family. Do I even have any friends, or family? Who…. WHO THE HELL AM I!?

Panic began to overtake him, his breaths becoming faster and shallower, the thumping of his heart drowning out any ambient noise around him. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. With the weak breathing and pounding in his chest he started to feel lightheaded.

“Are you feeling okay? You don’t look too well,” commented the unicorn mare, her voice laced with concern. The nameless man panted, eyes like pinpricks, cheeks like snow.

“I-I’ve got to get out of here,” he replied, his voice trembling. He struggled to raise himself from the bed, finding himself bound in place by an invisible force pinning him down.

“Do not be afraid, we mean you no harm. We simply wish to know more of your circumstance.”

The voice was regal and familiar, a parlance of a time long passed. He looked over to the source of the -supposedly- reassuring words, finding the same navy pegacorn from the night before. She was slumped in a bean bag in the corner of the room, a tired look on her features. A single guard stood by her, expressionless bar the unblinking eyes directed at the bedridden human.

Silence loomed for a few seconds, the amnesiac in the bed taking in everything about him.

“I don’t know anything,” he replied.

“About how you came to be here?”

“About anything to do with me being here. I don’t remember anything about myself, or where I’m from, except it isn’t here and that something is very, very wrong.”

After a few seconds the invisible force relented and the human sat up, quickly swinging his legs across the bed. As he got up the guard stomped his right forehoof, lowering his body and flaring his wings in a low, well trained stance.

“At ease, Lieutenant, we are sure our guest means us no harm. Even if he did, we are quite sure we are capable of defending thyself, dost you not agree?”

The guard in question said nothing though was clearly unsettled as he stood at ease. He wasn’t at ease at all. His glare to the seated human conveyed a very clear message - “try anything and you won’t get a chance to regret it.”

“Do you have a name?”

“What part of anything do you not understand when I say I don’t know anything about myself?” he spat, his face momentarily close to a sneer.

Luna was taken aback by the malice in his voice though she didn’t struggle to maintain her composure, her poker face unstirred. It may not have quite compared to Celestia’s, though her elder sister did have an extra millennia of experience when it came to dealing with politicians and petty nobles - running a diarchy alone will develop that in a mare.

“Would you appreciate a midnight stroll through the gardens? We are quite partial to them as are quite refreshing. Perfect for clearing one’s head of their troubles.”

At this, the guard began to object but was quickly quieted by his mistress. Inside him a conflict raged, the battle between the duties of his obedience to the crown (and the chain of command, as Luna was technically commander-in-chief of the equestrian military) and the duties of his principle as a guardspony.

Without a doubt, his job was needless while she was awake as she far eclipsed him in martial prowess, but his position was one of principle.

He was about to raise the issue again, when Luna interjected. “Lieutenant,” she began, “it is not necessary for you to concern yourself in this matter; as we stated before we are capable of defending ourselves. Though we are sure Nurse Fairheart is in need of a detail in case any more strangers are to appear, hence you are to remain by her side until further notice. Understood?”

The lieutenant snapped a crisp wing salute at her words, his mind relegating itself to the chain of command. Internal conflict resolved. Orders over principles.

The human looked on at the surreal display with a detached sense of fascination. His gaze wandered across the guard, not taking much note of his ebony coat, golden eyes or leathery, navy wings. No, he focused his attention on the messy scar across the guard’s neck, the hairless linear blotch amidst fine black hairs - the skin was mottled crimson, a line of mess on an otherwise perfect subject.

It looked like it had hurt. A lot.

Taking note of the human's gaze, Luna explained. “The lieutenant had his throat ripped out by a manticore while out on reconnaissance a few weeks ago. We could stem the bleeding and close the wound, though regenerating the larynx would require a week of bedrest, and a certain proud officer refuses to visit the infirmary for his treatment.”

At this the lieutenant gave a dismissive snort and rolled his eyes. This was not lost on Luna, though she wasn’t going to press the issue further - she would afford him his pride and his principles, for now.

The human was lost to wondering. “Manticores…” he whispered under his breath. He was in way over his head. No name, no past, no knowledge of where he was or why he was there. He was brought out of his trance by the sound of an impatient pegacorn.

“Will you not take me up on my offer of a midnight stroll?”

The human looked at the navy mare, then at the guard, then at the nurse, and then at the plain, tiled ground before him.

“Ah why not,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. “S’not like a stroll’s gonna make it all worse.”

Right?

Luna smiled softly.

“Follow us.”