> Bellum Vitae
>  by divinearcadia
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Bellum Vitae: Remembering the Lost
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Bellum Vitae



It was dark in the Grand Hall though a faint red light filters through the tall crystal windows spaced between thin pillars. Sitting in a high-backed throne at the head of the hall sits a thin framed figure, clad in lightly scarred armor who looks out over the empty tables that are her sole companions. It is a her, it has been for centuries and will be for many, many more. A slight movement, the glinting of light across the surface of dark wine in her crystalline goblet as she slowly lifts it to her lips. No sound comes from her elegant movement, nothing disturbs the silence that has come to be her fondest of immortal and unchanging companions over the centuries.
She is Her Arcane Eminence, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Holy Commander of the Companions, brothers and sisters in the Bellum Vitae. The War of Life. In this war, she has three sisters, sisters who lead their own mighty factions. Her Radiant Eminence, Princess Celestia, Holy Commander of the Helios Legions, those who bring forth Her light. Her Astral Eminence, Princess Luna, Holy Commander of the Dark Knight, those whose duty it is to bring a swift and merciless death their enemies. Lastly is Her Impassioned  Eminence, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, Holy Commander of the Revelers, those souls who burn hot enough to consume both their selves and their enemies in the flames of boundless passion present in their every moment.
The War of Life has been raging for centuries, its beginning stems from the withering of all magical life on our home world. Our enemy? The most seductive and deadly of all... Harmony itself. Many years after the ascension of Her Arcane Eminence, Princess Twilight Sparkle, Harmony stole over the world like a soft blanket placed over a foal. Warm... safe... comforting... complacent to let it happen without a single whimper of protest. We never had to venture out from under it, never had to know the cold that makes the warmth so comforting in the first place. Before we knew it, the blanket lost its importance and significance as our bodies began to waste away without knowing why. The once mighty Alicorns find nothing that can prolong the lives of their charges aside from all their magic not needed for their most basic of duties. Even doing this, they can do nothing more than give their citizens life until what used to be the prime of their lives.
However, salvation would come from the hands of one of the most reviled warlords in Equestrian history: Sombra, Fallen King of the North. Sombra, the last healthy magical entity in Equestria. The four sisters were loosing strength slowly, their guards pitiful shadows of their former glory, so he easily forces them to hear his proposal. It is met with scorn, derision, hate and loathing. He is trapped by their combined might at great cost, though only for while. During his incarceration, another year passes. This year, no foals are born to the whole of Equestria. The Princesses decide to convene, placing some credence to the proposal Sombra puts before them. His words are given consideration, only because he has the only solution to the slow death of their world as they have tried everything else to stop it.
His solution? War. Strife. Life through meaningful death. It was no surprise to him that the griffons and dragons were the last to begin feeling the effects of this plague of peace. The magic of Equestria was leaving because it was no longer being attracted to it. Their arts had come to the pinnacle of perfection, thus creativity began to stagnate. Strife was eliminated, so solutions were no longer sought out. Most illnesses conquered, so there is no more adaptation. Weather and world controlled through will and action, no uncertainty in their lives. 
War, long forgotten and the words unfamiliar, frightening. Magic is a creative force, drawn to creativity. Where there is none, it ceases to exist. Sombra was a visionary as he was gifted with the intelligence to deduct the inevitable end of the world if Harmony was to encompass it. So thousands of years ago, he tried to set in motion the plans for its salvation. Thousands of years ago, he became consumed with his desire to see his vision complete, though his methods and actions caused his imprisonment. He knew Celestia would never accept his realization and cure, so he had to force it like medicine down a dogs throat only to have it bite his hand off before it could swallow the pill.
So it was in the final hours of a wretched and woeful demise, that which was once reviled became the salvation of an entire world. The first to understand the implications was Princess Twilight who could grasp the far reaching implications. Enlistment, tactics, training... everything that might bring about a spark of creativity. Her sisters slowly, if reluctantly understood that it was the only way. But who was to be their enemies? Surely nothing within their own borders nor the relative superpowers the other two races had become? It is here that Princess Twilight saw yet another solution as well. What of the other worlds? The worlds that hold great darkness. By fighting the beings that extinguish the light, they would rekindle the life of their world. By the meaningful deaths of some, their beloved tribes would live. It was the only way they could agree upon.
Within the month, griffon troops came to Equestria to train their Guard. Within a year, the Guard became militarized and a tiny trickle of life began to pump through the planet once again. A handful of foals were born. The Princesses took Sombra on as an adviser in these matters once they felt that first feeble pulse that all was not lost. His first, and most appreciated actions create the beginnings of the four holy armies that would carve bastions of light and life through the worlds of darkness. The arduous history of Equestria relearning war through trial and error is a long one, so maybe another time. 
The life of Sombra is cut short once his usefulness is through as he is a poisonous influence, seeking to take the work of decades for himself through deceit and paranoia. Celestia learns of his plots and does what Harmony would not allow her to do during their first encounter. She ends him. Utterly. She incinerates his soul with her fiery magic, settling debts long since unpaid from his subjugation and torment of innocents centuries ago. This is the opening act for a new age. Now, in the 1283rd year B.V., the reach of the factions account for eight hundred and forty three Bastions across twelve worlds that are blanketed in darkness.
It is in one of these Bastions that Princess Twilight sits in. A blood red moon rising of its own accord behind her throne, tainted by the pyres that deal with the remains of the vile creatures that inhabit this world. She is terrible to behold in her grim contemplation, though tragic at the same time. The watcher breathes a silent breath before strengthening his resolve to speak to her. He walks into the hall on silent feet, the comforting weight of his armor missing as it rests oiled and polished in his quarters. His Commanders eyes flicker up from the reflection of her wine as he steps partially into the light, shining slightly with an amethyst light.
“Yes?” She says in a soft, satiny voice, traces of deadly steel hidden under layers for the sake of one of her beloved Companions. “Is there something I can help you with Dervish?”
“I just thought you may wish to talk.” He replies just as softly, not wishing to completely dispel the quiet of the vast hall. “We all know how you mourn for our fallen Brothers and Sisters each day. I thought that you may simply wish to reminisce of their lives with a willing audience.”
A small smile turns up the corners of her mouth, a sight to make statues weep. “I thank you for your offer. Come, sit at a table while I fetch us something a little stronger to toast to their lives with.”
Dervish smiles warmly and bows to her while she stands to her feet with the ghost of a sound. She walks off to the side and through a door while he sits at the end of the table closest to the kitchens. She comes back a few moments later without her armor, her lithe body covered in the simple browns every companion wears under their armor. In her hands are a couple wooden cups and a earthenware jug. Setting them on the table, she takes her place and slides a cup across to him. Gripping the cloth and wax seal, she rips it off to pour the first glass for each of them.
She smiles the warm smile of a true Companion and raises her cup, Dervish mirroring both actions. “To the lives of those lost. May their smiles and laughter never be forgotten as long as I draw breath.” They say the Toast of Fallen Companions as one. With a swift action, before the last syllable leaves the air, they drink the contents of their cups. White fire courses down Dervishes throat, a lingering heat spreading from his throat down through his stomach and out. Smiling, Dervish sits there listening and talking with his Princess of Companions they both knew and of Companions long dead that he never knew. They even talk about those few individuals who have become legends within not only the Companions but the other factions as well, all of which she knew personally and she tells him unbelievable, even embarrassing stories about them. They talk and remember until the bottle runs dry, the night almost burnt through before the end.
“Thank you, Dervish.” The Princess says softly. “It is well for me to remember the good so that their lives remain vibrant within me. Our Obelisks may record their names, but it is only my sisters and I that know they truly lived.”
“You may be our Holy Commander, Princess, but you are still a Companion who can rely upon her Brothers and Sisters.” He replies.
She stands and walks around the table before leaning down to kiss the crown of his head. “Call me Twilight when we're not in the field. Thank you for your company tonight, but you should get some rest before first light. I'm sure your marefriend is cold in your bed without you anyways.” She says with a smile before walking down the hall at a leisurely pace. Once the Princess leaves the hall, Dervish gets up with only a slight wobble to his gait as he heads back to his warm bed and the welcoming arms of his lover, hoping to sleep an hour or two at least in comfort. 
> Incedit Vitae
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Incedit Vitae



Dervish groans with bloodshot eyes squinting in the artificial light as his marefriend finally gets up to go about their morning duties. Her toned body leaned down to pick up her browns and takes her time putting them on, smiling because she knows he enjoys the show. She has a glossy graphite colored coat with the odd black splotch here or there and a jet black mane with an arrow piercing through a bulls eye on her flank. Once dressed, she casually drops into his only chair with a leg hooked over one of the arms, her liquid gold eyes meeting his. She's a pegasus war archer named Clean Shot and he has seen how deadly she is with her bow in action. Her incredible war bow rests unstrung in the corner of their room. Out of curiosity when they first started dating, Dervish, who is still training to become a Blade Master asked her to let him try the bow. He couldn't bring the three hundred pound beast to full draw, even with all his strength and training.
“Were you out late last night drinking with some friends again?” She asks with a smirk, her raspy voice bouncing uncomfortably in his ears.
“You could say that.” He replies. “I was drinking with the Princess in all honesty.”
Her eyebrows lift with a new appraisal of her partner. “Really...” She says a little throatily.
“Yep.” Dervish says as he twists in bed to come quickly to a sitting position. “Uuuugh... I shouldn't have done that.”
“So what did you two talk about?” She says with a glint in her eyes. “Nothing too untoward, I hope.”
“Bruuuup~” He begins with a mighty burp that reverberates in the room. “Of course not. We were drinking to the fallen.”
“Such a true Brother.” She says smiling as she unhooks her leg and pushes out of the chair. “I just love that about you.” She takes a couple steps before gently sitting in his lap, nuzzling her head under his chin. “I don't care what some of my pegasus sisters say about you earth ponies, I just love how solid you are in everything you do.”
“And I love how you always go straight for what you want without any hesitation.” He says humming happily at her welcome warmth. “Must have something to do with being an archer...”
“Something like that.” She says kissing the hollow between his shoulder and neck. “What say we sleep in for another hour?”
“Mmmhmhm...” He hums softly while stroking her coarse hair. “Even though that sounds like heaven, I can't.” She reaches up to tangle her left hand in his dark brown mane after running it through his sand colored fur. “Though I'm sure I can find my way back here for lunch...” She hums contentedly in her throat before she pulls him down for a gentle kiss.
“It has been a while since we've had 'lunch' together.” She says with a lidded gaze. “Maybe we'll actually eat some food for a change.”
After chuckling at her antics, he kisses her tenderly again before speaking. “But first I have to get dressed.” She throws him a false pout before shifting her light body off his lap and returns to the chair. Shivering slightly at the sudden chill, he moves to the edge of his bed before fumbling with his tunic. After tossing it over his shoulders he gets up to hunt down his pants which had found its way under his desk. “Want some help with your armor?”
“Sure.” She says with a shrug. “It's nice having somepony to help with the cinches. I'll be sure to return the favor.”
“Don't you always?” He says smiling while offering her a hand, pulling her lightly to her feet. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her close to kiss the top of her head before turning to her unruly pile of armor. She turns he back to him with arms outstretched, waiting for him to lower the chest piece over her head. He goes about suiting her up with casual efficiency, leaving her helm off. Before long, he's standing with his back to her, allowing her to return the favor. “Could you pass me my sword?” She moves in close, wrapping the belt around his waist and buckling it in place. “Would you look at this? It's almost like we're some elderly couple, enjoying our stipends instead of the young soldiers we are.” He says with a smirk.
“I'll show you 'elderly' if you don't watch it.” She says with a light punch to his pauldron.
“Ha! I'm sure you would.” He says with a smirk. “Lets get down to the mess before they eat everything.” With a nod and the quick slinging of her unstrung bow into its holster, they leave his room which is located on the second floor with helmets in hand. They make their way quickly down the long hallway before going down the stairs and after a few more moments, they find their selves surrounded in the dull roar that is the mess. The Princess had removed her throne from the room, replacing it with a small rectangular table with young recruits nervously eating with her though chatting with everypony at the table. She's talking warmly with them between bites of food, with smiles that try to comfort. Dervish smiles at his own memory of sharing a similar meal with her a few years ago.
“Why don't you go find us a seat?” Clean Shot says while moving towards the buffet along the side of the room. Dervish just smiles while looking around, finding a small open stretch along one of the benches and puts his helmet down to save her a seat.
“Hey Dervish.” A pegasus stallion says from across the table. “You ready for some more advanced training?” The stallion in question is Stratos Gale, another soldier who's aiming to rise to the name of Blade Master. “I won't fall for your feints again, though that strength of yours is something else. You don't look like you're as strong as you are.”
“You can bet your primaries on it, Stratos.” Dervish replies with a wicked grin. “Maybe you'll score more than one point in five this time. Without a partner.”
“Hey... It's not like it's my fault you're as quick as a pegasus and easily three times stronger.” He replies with a laugh before turning as something catches his eye. “Looks like Clean Shot's on her way now.”
True to his words a moment later, Clean settles a tray loaded with light food and three filled cups. “Hey Stratos, how's it been? Any trouble on patrol or all silent on that front?”
“Had a band of shadowlings ambush us near the edge of the forest with a Capitulated archer leading them.” A shiver rocks the couple at the name. The Capitulated. Those fallen who come back to fight their brothers once enough shadowlings possess their corpse. They retain all the powers, skills and memories of when they were alive, but now serve the darkness. If one is found or confronted, global dictate is for all efforts to slay it with extreme prejudice. “They didn't know we had an up and coming Blade Master in the unit. Didn't stand a snowballs chance in Tartarus.”
“Last rites?” Dervish asks with a raised eyebrow.
“After we took the Insignia of course. 'Remember the lost, all transgressions forgiven. May the bright life willingly given banish the darkness that perverts your death.' Made a small pyre right where it lay and killed all that tried to extinguish it.” He replies casually. “So I see you haven't broken Clean Shot with your freakish strength.”
“Oh, trust me, he's plenty strong.” She replies, leaning over the table from her seat with a smoky smile and half lidded eyes. “And he knows how to apply it juuuust riiiight...”
“Ha ha!” Stratos laughs while leaning back a bit. “Who do you think taught him all his tricks?”
“Hey... I didn't know you tucked in that way, but whatever floats your boat...” Clean retorts falling back to her seat, Stratos blushes and stammers a couple times to the laughter of their neighbors. “I guess I ought to thank you for that.”
“Heh, she got you good man.” Dervish says chuckling before ravenously attacking his meal, Stratos only grumbling in reply. They all chat as they eat, ponies coming and going, all sharing in conversation with good sport, something to say to everypony. Before five minutes have passed, their meals have been eaten and they spare a few minutes to enjoy good conversation amongst comrades. However duty calls so Dervish and Stratos makes their way to the Initiates training hall while Clean Shot reports in to her superior.
The hall has a high ceiling and paneled in the golden brown wood of their home world. Every bastion votes to designate three rooms to be paneled in such a way, one room is always the bed chambers of the Commander. Nopony knows when or how the tradition started, but it is always that way. The hall is deep and long, brightly lit from the sun outside. They're lucky that this world has a bright sun and weather variations as they know some are barely lit or are under constant cloud cover. With a short look around, they spot the only other Initiate striving for Blade Master working their unarmed forms against a shadow opponent. Hands and hooves flashing in tightly controlled motions while their instructor, a pegasus by the name of Sliced Zephyr, lounges casually against the wall. He spots the pair and moves from the wall to talk with them.
“Mornin' boys.” He grates out with a smile, the scar tissue covering the top right half of his face contorting, a modest patch covering where his eye used to be. “Yer lookin' a li'l hagg'rd there, Dervish.”
“Just a little, sir. Once I get my blood pumping, I'll be right as rain.” He replies with a halfhearted grin.
“I hope so, kid.” He replies grimly. “B'cause I'm yer opponent t'day.”
That definitely jolts his heart into motion with a surge of adrenaline. His halfhearted grin quickly blooms into a full blown one at the unexpected news. He knows that today is a chance for him to become a Blade Master. The rule of Acceptance states that if an Initiate scores five points in five, he has the chance to challenge three other Blade Masters in an indefinite round match, one in which it cannot end until he lands a single point or is unable to continue. If he wins against each opponent, he is formally accepted as a Master and can be assigned to any Bastion he may wish to teach or fight as is his desire, not that he wanted to leave as long as Clean Shot is here. 
“I won't let you down sir.” He replies eagerly. “I look forward to it.” With a smirk and a nod, he walks off to begin his own stretching exercises.
“It's your and my lucky day, Dervish.” Stratos says quietly. “You get a real chance at ol' Zeph after two years and I get to spar with somepony that's not you for once.”
“Hey, it's not our fault that Updraft shows promise.” Dervish says chuckling. “He needs to be taught right.”
“I know, but today we get a show. Now get over there and warm up. I don't want to hear you crying about a tendon not stretching properly and causing you to loose.” Stratos says with a shove to the arm. Dervish just laughs and does as told. As he looks around while stretching, Dervish spots the occasional griffon in the hall. They're somewhat common in the Bastions across the worlds, though they're only here as something close to a bracing force. They're just as diverse as the ponies, falling under one faction or other as their personality or preference leads them to. They're not so bad all around, but for now he has to concentrate. Within a few minutes, a sheen of sweat coats Dervish as he thoroughly readies his body for the intense action that is to come. Once done, a suffusing warmth emanates from each fiber of his body and he knows that there's nothing more he can do to prepare aside from taking up practice sword in hand. Calming his thoughts, his mind easily becomes a void of emotion with only the occasional thought skittering around the edges of his mind.
He glances over to his fellow Initiates and notices that they're wearing intense expressions, waiting to see how events will unfold. Unbeknownst to Dervish though, the hall is slowly falling silent as word travels amongst other Initiates of the looming spar. He turns his eyes back to the weapon rack, lined with bound lathe practice swords, the center dowel filled with sand to add weight to it. He picks one up, hefting it slightly before moving to one of the medium sized practice rings. He slowly reaches that point where he's aware of everything and nothing specifically. Soon, Zephyr walks into the ring with a practice sword in his hand as well. With a deep, slow breath, Dervish brings his other hand to the hilt of the sword and lowers into a balanced stance. Zephyr does the same, slowly inching closer.
Dervish does the same, minute shifts of his hooves that never fully leave the floor. Then, seemingly without warning, action. Zephyr moves with blinding speed, his weapon thrumming in the silence while Dervish shifts just enough to avoid the weapon. He retaliates with an attack of his own which is likewise avoided. They exchange three more blows with similar results before Dervish lands a blow to Zephyrs sword and immediately follows up with a blow to an armored shoulder. That should do it for introductions.
Dervish resets a couple steps back and notices that Zephyr is lightly smiling, as though he had allowed him to land the first point. Instead of the usual flush of anger or uncertainty that smile would instil, Dervish feels an unshakable determination to show Zephyr how wrong he was to allow him to get a point advantage. So he steps in, his muscles light and tingling with pure energy waiting to be unleashed. He feints, one of the moves he was working on with Stratos in private a couple weeks ago. He swings too early, appearing to have gauged the distance wrong or hoping to overextend slightly to hit his mark, and his opponent takes the bait. Their swords meet with a sharp clack and Dervish seems to flow through Zephyrs defense to land three solid hits, each in a vital spot.
“Heh!” Zephyr says once Dervish steps back. “Not bad, boy, but it still only counts as one.”
Dervish says nothing, though a grim smile spreads across his face. They close again, both eager,  one to test their strength and the other to provide a barrier for the other to overcome. There are no sounds aside from their heavy breaths and the sharp clacks of their swords. Zephyr seems to move as light and gracefully as his namesake, while Dervish dashes his attacks aside, his face as close to peaceful as anypony that knows him has ever seen it. Sweat and focus show on every part, every line of their bodies as they dance to some unknown music for minutes at a time. Astoundingly, Dervish has landed four points against Zephyr and he looks grim to the point that some of the spectators fear for the life of his opponent. But it means nothing to Dervish, the next solid blow will start the next page of his life and that's all that matters right now. The last round is short. Four loud, echoing clacks and a broken sword marks the rise of a junior Blade Master. Zephyrs sword is snapped in two from the force of Dervishes counter, sand scattered and glinting around them as Zephyr tilts his head to the side as Dervishes sword rests against the visibly pulsing vein in his throat.
“Five.” Dervish says in a low voice.
“Five it is boy.” Zephyr says with a feral grin. “Two years o' hard work and you've made me proud this day.” Dervish lowers his sword and hands it to Zephyr.
“I broke your equipment, you know the punishment.” He says as he kneels, his side to Zephyr and bows his back. “I was still an Initiate at the time after all.” Zephyr looks at Dervish with a raised eyebrow before shrugging. He raises the practice weapon in two hands before bringing it down across his back to shatter in a spray of sand and pulverized lathes. Everyone watching winces at the sight but Dervish just stands back up immediately as though it was a congratulatory pat on the back.
“Thas th' last sword I'll be breakin' on yer back, Dervish.” He says tossing the broken remains aside. “Welcome t' my world, Brother.”
“About time you stingy bastard.” Dervish says with a wicked grin. “You just had to do it this morning, didn't you?”
“Ha! Lookit this young un, makin' 'scuses 'bout how 'e shouldn'ta won!” Zephyr says gruffly pulling Dervishes head into a lock. “Gettin' cold hooves 'bout tryin' for Acceptance?”
“I mean that you're an opportunistic glory monger that only gave me a chance when he thinks I can't win!” Dervish says laughing as they tussle about.
“If ya couldn't win like that, I wouldn't want yer sorry ass as a Blade Master!” Zephyr says letting him go. “How 'bout you an' that cute li'l filly yer takin' t' bed drop by my room later fer some drinks? Then we'll do some real celebratin' wit' some Brother an' Sisters! Hows that sound everypony?!” He finishes, shouting to the whole hall, a roar of approval meeting his suggestion.
“I'll be there... Zephyr.” Dervish says, grinning ear to ear.
“NOW GET YER LAZY ASSES BACK T' WORK, INITIATES!” He yells back to the gathered audience, they scatter as though he's something worse than the enemies they face. “AND I BETT'R SEE YOU ALL TONIGHT IN TH' MESS BY NINE SHARP!” Dervish just laughs at the sight before him. It's not often Zephyr brings out his battlefield voice, but when he does, even Dervish gets afraid. “See you two at eight?”
“See you there.” Dervish replies lightly. “Mind if I duck out for an early lunch in an hour?”
“You can go piss in th' wind fer all I care, Dervish. But yer headin' to th' medico an gettin' yer back tak'n care of.” He says a bit sternly.
“I'll go do that now. See you tonight.” Dervish says smiling. As he leaves the hall, it really starts to settle in. I'm a junior Blade Master. Maybe it's time to start another page in my life... one with another at my side... He thinks with fiery resolve. We've been together for almost three years now and life is good. Maybe it's time.


A couple hours later, Dervish finds himself in bed with Clean shot laying contentedly on top. 'Lunch' was better than expected and they actually got to eat something this time. He hasn't told her about his advancement yet, but he will soon. With a deep sigh of contentment, her strokes her head, causing an ear to flick at the light touch.
“Something on your mind?” She mumbles in that silky voice he only hears in moments like this.
“Just something I was wondering about earlier.” He replies.
Clean shifts a little, her elbows propping her up on his solid chest so she can look into his eyes. “Oh yeah?” She says with a loving gaze and a half smile. “And just what might that be?”
“I was wondering if you would say yes if I asked you to marry me?” He replies, his pulse suddenly pounding harder than it did during his bout with Zephyr.
“Of course I would.” She says without a trace of unease or hesitation. “That is if you asked me and weren't wondering about it.”
“Will you marry me, Clean Shot?” He asks, his voice rasping a little.
“Yes.” She says sliding up to kiss him tenderly. “Yes, I will.”
At this moment in time, despite all the uncertainty in their lives, life is good. They are unequaled in their happiness, though they don't know if they will live to see tomorrows dawn. Amidst the darkness, the sadness and the pain that they know is in the future, they are alive to see what will come of it.
“Oh! One thing, Dervish, since it seems kinda important.” Clean Shot says as she breaks off the kiss with a radiant smile. “I'm pregnant.”