The Coming of the Grey
The Survivor King and the Kingdom of Equestria
Ch. 1: The Coming of the Grey
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to MLP or any of its related subsidiaries.
I hang from this rocky protrusion of the broken wall.
The cold breeze spun me slowly high above the street.
Below, the broken concrete landscape that was once my home spreads before my eye.
My… my mind is slipping.
The feeling of my flesh slipping into numbing pain,
I float through a sea of black and fire.
The fire burns beneath my skin, the liquid fire in my veins, behind my eyes.
The world spins before me.
My perception shuffling through the shifting waters in my vision.
Why am I holding onto this?
The thousands of legs crawling through my body continue, driving me to this conscious suffering and away from the bliss of darkness.
With every shift these bindings cut deeper into my skin.
Dark leather straps wrap around my arms, legs, and chest.
The last one around my neck chokes me when the pressure is shifted from my limbs.
How long have I been up here?
They never use to do this before.
These invaders of my home only used us as a visual tool to inspire the fear of torture and pain in their hearts.
I was picked because I’m the oldest son in my house.
My mom, my dad watched from the broken pavement at my torments.
My eyes would meet theirs and they would turn away.
They were afraid of the invaders’ attention.
Because they may suffer a day without food, red cigarette burn against their sensitive flesh,
Or countless other sins inflicted on my flesh.
They are not human.
They may wear the skin of men, but they are not human.
No human would cause this suffering.
This mind altering suspension between life and death that I am forced to exist in.
The pain is constant and with little respite of blackness.
I don’t think I am.
I feel no fear or anger or sadness anymore.
I feel empty in this broken shell.
My skeleton is an imprint against my skin.
Heh.
I can count my ribs; see my joints as if only a thin layer of cells kept them safe from the outside.
It’s a dark humor thing to see what is under my white and black skin, holding my bodily fluids.
I only have so much to enjoy in my short time on this earth.
I wonder what would be worse.
Shifting my weight forward and allowing the strap to tighten around my neck,
Or the death burning through my organs.
But I… I don’t want to die like that.
I want to go to sleep. And dream nevermore.
I want to slip away, into black.
But when I do, my weight moves and the pain around my neck tears me back into my burning flesh and wakefulness.
Turing to each side, no one else is moving.
I have to move more to see through my good eye.
The right eye turned black and a yellow liquid slides down the side of my face.
Their purple and black bruised bodies are held limp in their bindings.
Wriggling masses of maggots and flies fly in and out the holes in the pale flesh.
Their black empty sockets stare out at the world below us.
The one fair dark skin of my friend to my left is haunting.
I don’t want to look.
Below me a few faces look up.
At first the soldiers wearing matching uniforms of browns and greens where happy.
They would throw food and other small things at us.
Now, they looked up in disgust.
I would say the rotting flesh and smell would drive anyone away,
That’s what I feel.
That would explain why I haven’t seen my parents.
I wouldn’t blame them. I don’t want to look at myself.
My… my mind continues to slip.
I swear… I feel the maggots in my flesh.
The shifting masses pushing deeper, towards my organs.
They’re in my brain. I know they are.
I can feel them.
They’re playing across my vision.
Shifting symbols and signs of unknown and unknowable knowledge play across my vision.
I think I’m going mad.
The wind whispers sweet, horrible things into my ears.
It’s so loud.
I wish I had some water.
My tongue is stuck to the bottom of my mouth.
My throat is thick with a metallic coating.
I think they want me to die now.
Several of the soldiers and some of the people are pointing at me.
I wonder why.
They could be asking to give me some water.
I would have thought the elements would have killed me just like the rest.
But no.
No matter how much my flesh burns, my mind dwindling into a pulsing mass of nerves,
I’m still alive.
I don’t want to be.
I want to sleep.
I swear I’ve been up here for too long.
How many nights?
Nine? I feel like it’s nine.
Look, they’re bringing out a rather tall ladder.
One of the camouflaged men is fixing a sharp tool to his rifle.
Strike true.
I want to call out and say something.
I would curse him, but I don’t have the strength.
I’m grateful. He’s aiming and set to stab with great force.
White hot fire lances through my side.
The blade slipped cleanly through my grime coated skin, between my ribs.
I would scream, but I have no voice.
Instead of a quick death, my lung collapses and I am forced to suffocate.
My body weakly jerks, I can’t breathe.
I want to scream at this man as my body stiffens.
I-I can’t remain here any longer.
The pale light is growing darker.
This guy killed me in a painful and slow manner.
I guess I wasn’t worth a bullet.
If I could, with my only wish,
I would love to kick him in the balls.
Is it weird to say that with my last breath?
I think not.
0 0 0
Captain Rebel Law could not believe the night he was having. The winter air felt heavy on his light orange fur. The layered armor of blue plating and plumed helmet did nothing to protect him from winter’s wrath. The whole of Canterlot lay under a layer of pure white snow.
Thankfully he was handling the harsh winds and cold better than the unicorns or Pegasus. Several of his ponies now lay in their bunks either nursing the icicles hanging from their horns or the painful jabs of cold into the sensitive wing joints and feathering.
Then there was the Hearth’s Warming Day flu burning through the stallions and mares stationed at the Royal Palace. It wasn’t anything major, but the loss of numbers did bring down the mood inside the Medical Wing.
At least until an incredibly pale nurse nearly tackled him as he made his rounds. The smooth tile did not work very well for the flats of hooves. The Captain of the Day Guard only got a few words from her before she began to pull on him with the green aura of her magic. She nearly tore him from his hooves and down the hallway in her rush.
If the good Captain was being honest with himself, he would have preferred the bruises over what his silvery eyes were processing now. The pit of his stomach didn’t drop. It imploded into a black hole of complete cold and darkness. His heart froze mid beat. His mind derailed trying to process what his red eyes where seeing before him.
He was a skeleton wearing wrinkled worn leather with a few patches of fur still attached. He was so skinny; the royal guard could count the individual vertebra of his spine. Dozens of valleys lined his graying skin, both old and new scars creating bizarre forms across his rough skin. A ring of sunken skin and hardened calluses could be seen on each of his legs and around his neck. The two older ponies could just make out a few patches of grey and white along his underbelly and flank. Long black tuffs of fur fell over the oversized hooves. A white patch held tight to the left side against fur and bare skin, stained slightly red. His black mane was disheveled and stuck to one side of his neck.
The colts face was haunting. The right side had bubbling black skin slightly visible from the edges of a once clean white wrap. A sickly yellow liquid spotted the absorbing fibers. Deep gauges lined the broad forehead and wide muzzle. Rebel Law could see the faintest line of white fur running down the center of his face.
If the royal guard was able to fully process the image before him, he could notice the noticeably arched neck, high withers, and a sloped shoulder along with the thick joints and hooves.
But it was the eye that held the Captain’s horror and dark machinations.
His single eye was the palest of blues. As if he had been worn down and weathered by the sun, rain and wind. His eye was sunken, looking out from a dark tunnel.
There was something so fundamentally wrong with this child.
From this eye, he could feel an empty coldness radiating from the small colt. It wasn’t fear or anything. It was a lack of anything. The body was still pumping blood and functioning to some degree, but the soul was missing.
“Doctor?” Rebel asked, his voice traveling from such a far distance away.
“Yes,” the green pony wearing a lab coat answered, turning away from scanning his patient with vibrant magical aura.
“What can you tell me?”
The lanky doctor took a deep breath, releasing it through clenched teeth. “F**k.”
Rebel turned slowly towards the health care provider. He could feel the individual vertebra in his neck grinding against each other. “Pardon?”
“I… It’s just… What the Tartarus?” The doctor motioned with his hoof towards the colt. He could not articulate the proper words running through his mind while that single blue eye watched them.
“Just tell me what you know,” Captain Law said slowly.
“He was brought in several hours ago. They found him lying in the dumpster behind Joe’s and brought him here as fast as they could. We warmed him up and cleaned him as best we could.” Taking another deep breath, the pony continued, “He was bad. Lice and fly larva eating his mane and fur. There-there were maggots in his coat sir. After he was cleaned up, we weighed him and started him on an IV of fluids with every conceivable anti-biotic I could throw in.”
“How bad was his condition?”
“He’s alive and functioning.”
“Is that supposed to be a joke or something?” The distain leeching from the captain’s voice could be tasted on the air.
“No. That sums up his condition. I’m just about through with my scan. I can tell you he suffers from malnutrition and I’m still categorizing his injuries.”
Rebel continued to look at the doctor, “Is he at any risk?”
“No. He’s stable, buttttttt,” the doctor drew out the word. His wide eyes were staring directly into the colt’s. “I can’t say anything about his mental condition. He hasn’t said a word since he woke up.”
“Do I need to worry about any behavioral problems? Is he a risk to anypony? Himself?”
“No that just the thing,” a hoof tapped the green furred chin as the doctor continued to think deeply. “He’s followed all of our commands. We’ve had him walk around a bit, draw blood, and a few other things. He’s shown no resistance to anything. No reaction to our needles. He just watched us.”
The captain felt bad as the doctor uncomfortably rubbed one hoof against the other foreleg. “Recommendations?”
“I’ve got a nutritionist to take a look at him tomorrow. We can start him on an actual eating schedule. The Princess should receive a full report by tomorrow afternoon. I-I just have to document everything I can,” the doctor wiped his forehead with his trembling withers. The stallion was sweating profusely despite the cold weather.
“Should I have somepony watch him through the night? Just to be safe,” the Captain offered, trying to keep his eyes from the small pony.
“The night staff has already been informed to keep a close eye on him, but I would appreciate if somepony was here just to make sure,” the doctor stared intently at the Royal Guard.
“What are you implying doctor?”
The doctor leaned closer, speaking in a lower tone, “I don’t know. But whoever did this to him spent a long time working on him. Some of those injuries are years old. There are bloody calluses on those shackle marks. I would bet my bottom bit he spent most of his life chained up. And if they put that much effort into hurting him, what would they do if they wanted him back.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
The doctor’s rich brown eyes turned to the small pony, looking so fragile on the plastic wrapped mattress. “I don’t know and I don’t want to know.” The two muttered a few final words before depart. The doctor turned back to his patient and the Sun Guard left to figure out who would be watching the Medical Wing tonight. He didn’t want to inconvenience the Night Guard. With the longer nights of winter, they needed to keep their numbers as high as possible.
The young colt look down at his hooves, they felt so strange. Pushing one of the flat surfaces against the bed, the solid surface felt more muted through the hardened nail. The needle felt nonexistent in the left arm. When the doctor left, he felt around his sides along the rough skin of jagged edges. If he imagined, he could just feel the long divots dug into the flesh. Some spots punctured as deep as an inch.
The doctor was talking to a nurse about saving his eye. Apparently when his face was lit on fire, the eyelid was sealed shut and would require surgery to fix. Hopefully the eye was alright.I could use both of them right now.
The air smelt funny. It was full of chemicals and clean, almost too clean. In a normal world, he would either be panicking or freaking out at the large beings with fur, big eyes and color. There were so many colored beings before his eye. It was a living rainbow of animals that can talk. But nothing reached him. He was stuck inside his eyes, cold and so far away.
The nurse returned, her pink coat was so bright it was blinding. In her glowing mutant powers,That’s what I’m calling it., was a plastic rectangle with a small bowl of tan mush. “Doctor said you can have a small snack before sleep. Nothing too heavy and confirmed by the Doctor to be good for little colts,” her voice was so bubbly it offended the cold darkness.
Death and despair. Death and despair.
The nurse’s false smile fell when the little colt pushed his face into the mush. His pink tongue and yellowing flat teeth flashing in the oatmeal as he tried to consume it as fast as physically possible. She had to stop the little colt after he started licking the bowl, “It’s alright sweetie. You’ll get something later. Don’t you worry.”
He looked after her, his large ears catching a few random phrases, “Like to give that son of a bitch a Hearth’s Warming kick to the balls.” Then she got too far away, but he was certain that she said something about a sledgehammer meeting said balls.
He wasn’t left alone too long, the pink nurse returned with several pale blankets held in her hoodoo. The nurse was very professional and didn’t show any reaction after bundling the young pony with several blankets. Though an important question entered the boy’s mind,Where’s my penis?He found his balls, but the penis was missing.I wonder where it went.
Thoughts didn’t last long though. His stomach felt full. He was warm and inside. The lull of sleep slowly enticed the pony. The noise meant nothing, only the welcomed silence and lack of light in his good eye.
0 0 0
Captain Law sat patiently in the dark of night. The moon and the mare inside were completely blocked out by the winter storm. From the dimmed ward lights, Law could just see a few random fluffy white pieces of ice drifting towards the streets of Canterlot.
His mane of red and sliver hung along his neck, his plumed hat sat next to bed containing the only child in the ward. A few beds were occupied by some unfortunate staff members or guards recovering from injury or sickness.
From the ball of fabric, the Captain could just make out the scared lips and muzzle poking out of the pale green material. The constant shifting and movement was unnerving. From the older pony’s perspective, the little colt was suffering from some horrible dream.
From inside the pony’s head, he was experiencing both horror and happiness. His thin frame leaned against the metal post at the center of the street. The metal bar was erected and the street was empty of all vehicles. When the occupying forces took over, they dedicated this singular street at the center of this part of the neighborhood for a reason. The enemy would hold a meeting for the entire neighborhood, updating them on any new developments. It could be good news like food deliveries would arrive soon or bad such as who is under investigation for treason against the occupying power.
All of these announcements would always take place over the bent back of one of thirteen children chosen to be examples. I was the unlucky one for this week. The sycophant had the deepest desire to express his artistic side with some of the sharpest blades on my face. Deep red rivulets spilling down my cheeks and chin from over a dozen skillful cuts.
One of them called out harshly to one of the younger females standing at the side of the announcement center. With the adults working on either field to grow food in the California countryside, factories pumping out metal for the war effort, and more while some of the younger children could work personnel assistants to the soldiers or other small time jobs.
She wore a conservative pair of pants and long sleeve shirts, carrying a bag of medical supplies. One of the perks when working for the EMT is basic medical training. Her bouncy blond hair was held in a tight bun. Her pale skin glowed against the morning sun, her deep blue eye piercing the open air. She was fourteen like me. Two years before I would hang for nine days and four years after my city was taken over.
“Elizabeth,” the name was but a whisper on my destroyed lips. The taste of blood fills my mouth.
Her demeanor was calm and collective. She was an angel in this scarred and broken city. Quickly, efficiently she began cleaning the jagged lines up down and across my face. The sanitizer burned as it spilled across the open flesh. I could still feel pain.
Slowly the enemy would increase their torments on my friends and my body. They fed off the screams and begging. As we got accustomed to pain, they would have to provide more of it to gain their well deserved rewards.
My nurse’s hands stopped, hovering over my face and shaking with uncontrollable tremors. I look up into her eyes. Streams of tears ran down the sides of her face. The two flowing rivers of salty water outlined her perfect cheeks and chin line.
My mouth moves, but the question that was once said did not come bidden on the winds of this far off memory. Instead the voice comes from behind the lovely nurse, a cool shadow crossing the sun’s light dimming the world, “Wherefore does the lady weep?”
I could not speak, only watch young girl I knew from my small world. She hastily wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, returning to the work I remember her performing. “Forgive me. I void not to cry when prying eyes could see mine.”
“And yet others don’t hide their grief. Is she so different from them?”
Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged, “No… She is no different from them.” Taking a deep, trembling breath, she managed to say, “She wants exactly what they want. To no longer be in this constant state of pain and servitude. To be allowed to love and receive love.” Her gently fingers brushed the black hair from my forehead, “To save those who deserve to be saved. But want though she may, it is not to be.”
Soft, careful footsteps moved closer to their position, the voice soft musical voice filled with a deep reserve of strength and sadness, “The lady’s thoughts have been heard. Her thoughts have been judged as noble. She shows such kindness in these dark of hours and such courage to show that love.”
My nurse turned, giving me my first look at something I cannot truly describe. The goddess was feminine, swathed in a dark flowing cloak of deepest night. Her bright skeleton shone from the depths of her hood. The bright bone held a calming smile. Her hood was swathed in a bright glowing halo of light that dimmed the world around her. Her thin fingers were clasp before her.
I felt utter power and calm from the ghostly goddess before me. I could not move or speak in such a presence. Her voice reached out to our ears, “The love she bears for life, the condemned and the Survivor King, and in time they will be known to him.”
“My lady.”
“Even though they may not come from your lips to his ears, they will find a way to him. That is a promise from the goddess,” the skeletal lady held out her hand, taking one of Elizabeth’s in her warm grasp. “The gods’ favor in the lady’s love and it shall be held in our confidence. Each of the Thirteen shall be delivered into a better world than this one.”
The girl I once knew, took the bony hand between both of hers, “I am undeserving of your kindness. Thank you.”
The goddess merrily smiled, taking her free hand and wiping some of the fresh tears from the young girl’s cheeks. “It is rare to see such loving devotion to life in this when. But to see a beautiful flower among the scared landscape is a welcome breath of life. Why him? Out of all the Thirteen before you, how did you choose the one who would become student to what was once known and the runes of the Old.”
“It was his eyes. Such beautiful eyes where always kind and so lonely. All I wanted was to save him the most and stand next to him through his torment. It’s selfish I know. And I am sorry for you to hear it,” Elizabeth hung her head in shame.
A thin bone white finger lifted the young woman’s chin, “It’s alright dear child. Love can be so selfish at times. Love is but a small part of us though. As long as we do not act selfishly with our love, our world becomes beautiful.”
With a mere gust of wind, the goddess faded into nothingness. My hands fell from the melted shackles, hard hooves slapping loudly against the unforgiving concrete. Elizabeth turned towards me, she was older. Her sixteen-year-old body was magnificent in the flowing white dress covering her thin frame.
I could only look at her in shock and awe. How such an angel could look at my batter condition with happiness was beyond me. She was so beautiful. “We meet again I see. A chance to see each other once more, who would have thought?”
“Elizabeth? What’s going on? Are you here?”
“Yes and no. All that matters is that my prayers have been answered and my calling fulfilled,” her smile was far off from truly happy. But there was hope in the illuminating blue eyes.
“Will you stay?”
The older woman knelt before me, taking my oversized hooves within her slim fingers. “That life that is yours will be restored to you,” she said warmly. “Remembers the flowers I would bring you. Flowers of blue, red, white and so many wild varieties they made you smile.” I nodded, remembering the spark of colors she brought before me. “That is your life now. Your life will bloom into something beautiful given time away from this dreadful plain of existence.”
“Will you be there?”
“Would that I could join you, but this moment will have to be enough,” she said, her eyes projecting her woes. “You survived the trials beyond mortal life. Death whispered the knowledge of runes in your ears and secrets danced before your eyes.” She hung her head, her shoulders shaking from the effort of controlling her broiling mind. “It’s not fair… All I wanted was to save you.”
Elizabeth looked up, her eyes spilling their crystal liquid. My eyes burn as tears forced their way from the destroyed tear docks. I haven’t cried in years. Now I can’t control them at the sight of the crying angel before me. “Please…”
Her hand gentle brushed my mane from my forehead. Blue eyes stared deep into my own, “When you find yourself alone, in a lightless place, look to the distance. The stars are there and so am I. I will be there and I will always watch over you.”
I felt myself being pulled away from her. Some unseen force was tearing this dream apart into nothingness. I reach out towards the only woman I know who loved me. Her face was the only visible thing in the shifting darkness. She glowed with some deep eternal light, “Farewell, little majesty.” Reaching out, a small object lifted from her hand towards me. I reached out to grab it. The metal was so cold against my skin, burning what little nerves I had in the appendages. I did not flinch from it. Pain was nothing to me now and this was something Elizabeth wanted me to have. For her I would do anything.
From his seat, the Captain of the Royal Guard caught sight of the tiny dots of moisture shifting from the corners of the colt’s eye. He shifted restlessly under the ball of pale blankets. Gently Rebel placed a hoof against the exposed child’s head, gently rubbing behind his ears. The small colt flinched from the contact, trying the pull away from the contact with his long neck.
The hardened guard felt a pang in his heart. Such a small being holding such discontent for the physical touch of another was a horrifying idea to think about. Rebel let is hoof fall. Inside he knew this would not stand. The Princess would not let such horrible injustice stand.
With that declaration to the darkness, the Captain continued his watch with the most severe dedication and self mastery.
0 0 0
Princess Celestia sat at her desk, a list of the morning’s schedule was held aloft in her golden magic. The furnishings were well polished redwood, reflecting the soft morning light from the window. Several pillows littered the place, giving it a comfortable look surrounded by walls filled with old thick leather tombs.
A soft knock at the door tore the Princess’s attention from her list, “Come in.”
Sunny Rays, an earth pony with light tan fur and a bouncing red mane made her way into the room. A tray of priceless china lay across her back, precariously balanced. With grace, the mare bowed, “Good morning Princess.”
“Good morning Sunny,” Celestia nodded with a smile.
Taking the tray in her jaws, the pony slid the silver metal silently onto the warm wooden desk. Celestia caught the briefest sight of a vanilla envelope on the mare’s back, “Captain Law wanted to turn this in directly to you as soon a possible, your Highness.”
Celestia nodded, taking the proffered envelope in her magical grasp. “Thank you Sunny.”
The mare left silently, knowing Celestia preferred to spend a few moments alone in the morning. Even the Ruler of Equestria needed a little alone time. This morning however, the Monarch of the Sun would have preferred something over the silence in her office. Her eyes ran across each document, taking in each word with ever increasing levels of shock, anger and horror.
With a heavy brow, she placed the documents in the center of her reading space. In a few moments, she decided to move her morning agenda to focus on this new development. Stepping out of the sanctuary of solitude, Celestia turned to the guard stationed next to her door, “Bring Captain Law to the Healing Wing as soon as possible.”
“Yes, your Highness,” the guard saluted before taking off.
A very disgruntled Captain of the Royal Guard stood next to his Princess, his mane was a mess, dark bags under his red eyes and he was not wearing his armor. Before the pair sat the implied colt, his good eye moved slowly between the tall white pony with the continuous shifting hair and the familiar stallion.
The tall mare watched the strange child before her. He sat uncharacteristically still for such a young age. He watched her with a level of emptiness it sent shivers down her spine. He looked through her, not at her. “Has he said anything?”
“No Princess, he has remained completely silent the entire time he’s been here.”
The Princess’s purple eyes scanned the creature before her. He wasn’t a normal pony. The small amounts of fur were too layered, the tufts over his oversized hooves and distinct facial features were too unique. If she had to guess, the pony before her was a distinct relative from the long distant Celtic age. From her long history, distant memories of the robust equine species that lived in the remote Europe floated to the front of her mind. They were described as the ancestors of the Earth pony many years before the unification of the three tribes. They were considered masters of their terrain, capable of living in the harshest environments.
Celestia lowered her regal head, her eyes becoming level with the small equine, “Hello there.”
The colt remained silent. He knew how this situation went. They would try to get him to talk, to get him to break his silence. But his silence was his armor. To speak was to draw attention to him, to bring the ire of those who condemned him. They were just waiting for an excuse to unleash their dark machinations on his flesh.
That was what he needed to do to survive. Over half his lifetime was set towards survive, not being seen and not drawing any further negativity on him, especially now with the cold metal ring wrapped around his right foreleg under the faded blanket. The black gold fit perfect around the appendage, feeling weight of the vine like structure of the metal that would inevitably surround the clear white crystal in olive leave. It was a simple but elegant peace that spoke of an elder time when memories were dreams.
The white mare continued to talk, with great care and kindness she asked who he was, what was his name, where he came from, who did this to him and so many others. She was tenacious to say the least. No matter the level of silence, she continued to talk to him trying to pry beneath his cold silence.
No matter what, her words elicited no response from the small being.
Eventually, the Princess fell into silence and they simply studied one another. The warm violet eyes met cold, distant blue eye. “Hmmm,” she hummed to herself, deep in thought.
“Princess?”
Celestia turned to Captain Law, “Yes Captain?”
“What do you thinks wrong with him?” Law motioned towards the child.
“From what I can tell he’s been traumatized.”
“No! Really?” The Sun Princess turned an un-amused eye towards her Captain, he scratched the back of his head bashfully, “It’s been a long night.”
“That’s fine,” the mare nodded her snowy white head, “What I mean is that some children after long time exposure to abuse can sometimes invert inside themselves. In their depression, they simply cut themselves from the world. They live inside their heads, were they can be safe and free.” Tapping a golden shoed hoof to her chin, she continued, “As a way to escape the pain, some ponies will try and cut aspects of their personality just to function under these kinds of conditions.”
“What do we do?” the Captain asked, eyeing the small colt.
The Guard watched his Princess sigh tiredly, “Have there been any leads on his identity or parents?”
“No, all the guards I sent out have reported back with nothing. All of the magic relays report no missing children matching his description,” Law shrugged with the same level of tire.
“We give him a room and monitor his condition. I assume the doctors have already set up all of his medical necessities?”
“Yeah,” the Captain nodded, “They were working all morning on it. They already have a physical therapist picked out when he puts some weight on.”
“What are we looking at?”
“23 pounds at age seven and 32 inches,” the Captain listed without much heart.
“When can we move him to a more comfortable location?”
“Doctor Clean Bill said he’s alright to move. A surgeon will be called in to check out his eye at a later date. They don’t want to put him under anesthesia until he’s a little healthier.”
“I’ll pick out a room that’s close by. I know the maids will have a field day showering him with attention,” Celestia turned to look at the small colt, “We’ll have to dial down their affections. I don’t want to overload him.”
“Sounds good.”
“Have any of the Night Guard seen him?”
“Naw, I didn’t want to bug them,” Law shrugged.
“What about a name?” her eyes misted over as she thought deeply. “I don’t want to continue referring to him as he or colt.”
“Hmmmm,” the Guard pony hummed, thinking deeply.
The name had to be something fitting as was the tradition for all ponies. The parents felt it within the deepest magics of Equestria. It was the magic of family, a love as deep as the flesh and of DNA that continued their mimetic legacy. He was a dark sky with so little light breaking through the black ceiling. As a romantic, Rebel Law would view this as chance to change the darkest of night into a better day.
Celestia was the first one to speak, “Noctis… Noctis Lucis Caelum.”
The Captain scratched his head. He knew the phrase was from a dead language he vaguely remembered, “Sky of the Night’s Light?”
Celestia nodded, “It sounds lovely.”
The Captain only shrugged, she was the Princess and he wasn’t paid to make the big decisions. With little else to do, the two ponies confirmed with the doctors and went on making preparations for their newest guest.
‘Noctis’ followed them as they left before returning to his own hooves and thoughts. His mind wondered about something. His name, the one provided by his parents. It wasn’t anything special, truly generic. But it didn’t feel important. Names were but a meaningless expression that fall into the bottomless pit of my heart. This world would not be different. They were only a connection of loose words and ideals with dead open air between people. The color of their very existence offends the very core of my heart pit from every angle with distressing brightness.
One of the doctors looked up from their chart, smiling at the new comer, “Awe Captain Nightwing, good to see you.”
Turning, I found myself face to muzzle with what could only be described as a bat mixed with a pony. She had dark purple hair, scruffy like her oversized fluffy ears. Her eyes were predator, catlike with purple irises. Her teeth were unmistakably sharp and smiling at me. From her more rounded facial features and body, I knew she was female. “Hello cutie, who might you be?”
The Captain of the Night Guard had passed the hospital wing in the late of night, curious as to why the Captain of the Sun Guard was awake and monitoring the hospital wing all through the night. What she found was the saddest sight she could imagine. In the end, she decided to cheer the thing up with her own form of joy. Loud and fluffy cuddles from what the other guards would comment on. Their captain did love to cuddle things either ‘cute or in need of cuddling’ as she put it.
Noctis did not know the upcoming snuggles that the Captain demanded, but he did knew something was going down.
Joy bunnies.