Thunder Strike is a Royal Guard, and quite dedicated to doing his job. Some might say he's TOO dedicated for his own good.
Featured on 4-16-23!? Holy crap!
Thunder Strike. Ask anypony who's ever met him and they would probably describe him as proud member of Royal Guard; specifically a Lieutenant of the Palace Division. Always doing his very best to maintain the safety and security of the staff and visitors alike, and never hesitating to do what's needed of him.
Ask those that know him and they might tell you how he's a chronic workaholic who's maintaining unhealthy, unreasonable standards for his own conduct and performance leading him to slowly but surely working himself to death, and who desperately needs a vacation before it's too late.
Like it or not, he's going to learn the hard way that nopony, no matter how dedicated they may be, can possibly burn the candle at both ends indefinitely. And perhaps something else along the way.
Despite his best efforts to exercise discipline and assert dominance, all efforts at not letting out a yawn utterly failed as Thunder Strike slowly trudged his way into the barracks showers, his hooves clopping against the pale blue tiles of the floor with each slow step taken as he tried to maintain both his balance and his vertical status. He'd already lost the early morning battle against yawning, but he was not about to let something as inconsequential as equilibrium get a win against him as well.
Yawning was a semi-voluntary reflex, so why he'd lost that particular battle made sense even in his current state. But not toppling over onto the floor was an entirely different matter. As long as he was methodical in his steps, his gait, and his speed as he made his way over to the closest stall, he would be alright. As soon as he got there, he could lean against the side wall for support and he'd be alright.
Sleep had not come for him when he'd needed it to last night. But that was neither an excuse to get out of working today, nor was it here nor there. Nopony at the palace, especially not the Royal Guard, were ever guaranteed a restful -or even a full- night's sleep between their respective shifts. He'd known that simple fact from the moment he'd signed up, and hadn't been deterred by it. He also knew he could run on less than optimum amounts of sleep, just as he had done numerous times before since the start of his Academy days.
Finally at his intended destination, he braced his body against the half-wall of the selected stall, before placing his right forehoof on the shower control and wrenched it as far as it could go.
Immediately his whole body went stiff as he forcibly clenched his teeth to bite back the yell at being subjected to the deluge that was at least ten degrees below what anypony's tolerance would be.
But it was having the desired effect. He was already feeling more awake and alert than just a moment ago, as his heart was beating, his blood was pumping and adrenaline was flowing. And with that alertness came awareness, including a vague awareness of having an entire eleven precious minutes before breakfast was to be served, in order to get finished up here, get dried off, get himself combed and presentable, get his armor on, and make his way to the palace mess hall in order to eat.
All in all, if he didn't dawdle, he might be able to make it there with thirty seconds to spare. Once there he could grab a cup -or three- of the strongest coffee the kitchen staff had prepared that would make even Spike and Twilight Sparkle gag, and get him through whatever his assignments for the day were.
"Maybe top it off with one of those five-hour energy shots available in the palace commissary for good measure," he mumbled to himself.
With all that in mind he pushed himself away from the wall and reached for the knob to turn off the water.
And that was where everything went wrong.
Perhaps he'd overextended himself when leaning over to reach the shower knob. Or perhaps he hadn't been focusing on his balance as much as he should've been. Or perhaps he'd been standing on some leftover soap residue that hadn't properly been cleaned up. Or perhaps he simply hadn't been paying close enough attention to what he was doing as he shifted his weight, and simply wound up moving in a manner that allowed his left hoof to slide right out from under him.
Exactly what the exact cause was, was entirely unimportant, as it didn't change the fact that he had slipped and fallen faster than he could catch himself and break his fall before he landed with a heavy thud.
His vision went hazy and unfocused, his senses disoriented as they tried to process and make sense of just what had happened a second ago.
"Owww..."
The groan was low and dragged out as he tried to rub his head with his right leg since it wasn't currently pinned underneath his barrel. He knew that he was hurt, just not the extent to which he presently was hurt.
As his vision finally cleared and he could reevaluate his surroundings, he became vaguely aware of the fact his left foreleg was currently bent at an unnatural angle at the cannon. He was also vaguely aware of the amount of pain he was currently experiencing in the limb. And perhaps more worryingly, the amount of pain that was lacking.
"That can't be good," he mumbled, aware of the fact the sensation of pain was there, but unable to really process it beyond it just being there; like a post-it note on the bulletin board that already had numerous other such notes tacked up there.
"I really don't need this right now..." he sighed as he tried to survey the extent of the damage, before giving up completely. It was broken and that was all he needed to know. "I'd better tend to that."
He wasn't the first Guard to have broken a bone, and he likely wouldn't be the last either. Although slipping in the shower wasn't exactly high on the list of causes for that. But that didn't really matter right now, as it wouldn't be found out.
He wasn't authorized to perform medical magic, but he'd spent enough time in the infirmary for one reason or another, he'd more or less learned the spell used for immediately healing bone fractures through observation alone. One quick casting and he'd be as right as rain, and able to stay on schedule. All he had to do was focus.
All he had to do was focus.
All he had to do was focus...
He slowly became aware of the fact that something was wrong here. He was focusing and concentrating, trying to push his mana into his horn to cast the spell so he could get back up on his hooves again, but nothing was happening.
"That's not good," he noted, now trying to figure out what to do otherwise. This was going to require a different course of action.
"Reparare."
If standard magic wasn't going to respond to his efforts, if he couldn't focus with his horn, he'd simply go the route of spoken incantations to get the job done. Perhaps not as flashy or as efficient in comparison, but it still worked.
Except it wasn't working right now. Despite speaking the incantation, his leg was still bent at the same awkward angle. Had he mispronounced it? He'd try again.
"Reparare."
He'd been more careful, more deliberate in his pronunciation, just in case he'd emphasized the wrong syllable. But the results were just the same as last time.
"Reparare," he spoke again, straining the word as he tried to focus everything on making it work, certain he was saying it just right this time.
His foreleg continued to remain bent at an awkward, unnatural angle, as if it were mocking him for his own ineptitude.
"Alright, don't panic, that'll only make things worse. Stay calm and focus on your training. Take stock of the situation, and evaluate what you know. Your left foreleg is currently broken and pinned under you. Unicorn magic is proving unresponsive, and spoken incantations aren't working either. Why this is, we don't know yet. But it's obvious that you're not resolving this situation without outside assistance."
If medical magic wasn't going to solve this situation, he was going to need to go the old school route. He was going to need to get up, and get himself to the infirmary to get fixed up by Dr. Malar instead.
"I'll have to skip breakfast if I want to stay on schedule," he muttered as he focused on resolving himself for what was needed of him, certain that whatever numbness he was currently experiencing was going to come to an end as he got up. "Got to do what you've got to do."
He tried to push himself up, despite the awkward position he was currently in, but found he wasn't getting anywhere. He was still laying on the shower floor, with his coat becoming ever-more waterlogged and saturated from the spray he'd failed to turn off before falling.
He tried again. Tried to push himself up, tried to roll over onto his back, tried to do anything to move, but nothing worked. His body was proving to be unresponsive to his demands it cooperate. Unresponsive and oh so very heavy right now. And the more he strained to even get an inch of movement from a single limb, the heavier it felt like it was.
"Move. Just... just move..."
Pushing through pain was nothing new to him. Exhaustion, muscle cramps, soreness, and other injuries encountered over the course of his duties had been encountered and worked through before. It was just a matter of having enough determination and dedication to tell the body to stop complaining and cooperate.
But it wasn't working now. Despite his best efforts, despite his stubborn intent, his body was refusing to respond. Even when he focused with all of his might to force his right foreleg to move even just a single inch, it refused to heed his demands.
"Move... please..."
He couldn't move. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he demanded, begged, of pleaded, his body simply refused to obey. It wouldn't stand, it wouldn't even crawl. He couldn't even hold his head up any longer right now. All he could do was lay there, feeling more and more exhausted for his efforts.
"Three seconds, recruit! You have exactly three seconds to pick your worthless self up off that floor right now!"
He had just about closed his eyes when that voice thrust itself into the forefront of his mind. He recognized that voice very well, unable to ever forget the screaming of his Drill Instructor back at the Academy.
"You have the nerve to call yourself a Royal Guard? You're an embarrassment to everypony who ever dedicated their lives to the organization!"
Something deep within him stirred at those words resonating in his skull. Something that demanded a response from him. Demanded that he prove otherwise.
Grunting, he strained against the exhaustion, against the lead-like sensation that'd settled deep into his bones that demanded he remain where he was.
"You pathetic maggot! My grandmother lived to be one hundred and two, she only had three legs, and she could still run circles around you!"
He clenched his teeth, focusing every bit of his will on moving his body into an upright position. He would stand. He would stand up.
"Do I seriously need to tuck you in for a nap, you baby!? Are you a foal!? Do we need to bottle-feed you!?"
Every single muscle in his body protested, practically pleading with him to abandon his current course of action before something terrible happened.
"You're a pathetic excuse for a glue pile, it's no wonder nopony ever wanted to take you in! Did you run away from the orphanage, or did they throw you away with the rest of the garbage!?"
Something deep within him broke at those words, snapping like a tie down chain that'd been ratcheted far too tightly. Something that he hadn't even known had ever been there. He would not tolerate such negative thoughts berating him for failing, because he refused to fail. He was a Royal Guard and he would prove his worth.
He pushed. He pushed hard. He pushed with more might than he'd ever used before, unable and unwilling to accept anything less than outright success. He strained both with and against every single fiber of his entire being, refusing to heed to the protests of weakness. Even if he tore his body apart in the process, he was going to stand back up again.
He clenched his teeth, furiously sucking in breath after breath while biting back the groaning his body desperately wanted to unleash as he strained to pick his head up off the wet floor, spurred on by a refusal to give up, pushing harder for this than anything else he'd ever strived for in his entire life. He pushed himself even harder than he had to get into the Guard. He pushed as if the fate of the world itself hung in the balance of him getting up off the shower floor, opening his mouth to finally holler with all the might his strained lungs could deliver as he finally lifted his head up off the ground.
And then he physically collapsed against the floor, the solitary inch of elevation he'd managed to fight for vanishing in an instant as his head made contact with the tiles once again.
All he could do was lay there, gasping for air, unable to even focus his eyes at the moment. All of his efforts, all of his focus and determination, utterly wasted as he remained in a pathetic heap, feeling like his whole body was suddenly made of lead. Utterly defeated by his own ineptitude, and his inability to overcome his own physical weakness. Even just breathing right now felt like it was more effort than he could physically muster.
"I'll just... lay here and close my eyes for one minute. I'll catch my breath, then I'll try again..." he mumbled as the strain of keeping his eyes open finally proved to be too much for him, as the last traces of alertness brought on by the cold shower washed away.
With a reluctant sigh and a half-hearted acknowledgement of his own failure, he finally allowed his eyes to slowly close, heeded the pleas of his exhausted body, and surrendered to the soothing siren's call of the cold tiles beneath him.
Thunder Strike slowly opened his eyes, and immediately knew that something was very wrong.
He was standing in the middle of a hallway he recognized as being one in the west wing of the palace, but it wasn't his station for the day.
He was standing in the middle of the hallway like some tourist, rather than where his post would otherwise be if this had been his issued assignment.
The colors weren't right. They were dingy and washed out rather than bright and vibrant, like he was trying to look through a smoky haze that'd clogged his vision. It wasn't smog, as there was no foul odor of charcoal or sulfur, but there was definitely a variable that made his surroundings look dull and lifeless.
He knew that something was wrong, just not what that something was. And he knew that if he didn't recognize what the problem was, he should immediately report the matter to a superior.
But first he had to find a superior in order to report to. And he knew that he wasn't about to find one just standing around here. So without further hesitation on the matter he turned in the direction that would take him back to the center of the palace and set off in a gallop.
Doing so, he nearly ran headlong into Princess Luna standing behind him.
Stopping forward travel in time to avoid colliding with her wasn't a possibility at his speed; even if he face planted into the ground, he still would've ended up slamming into her at full force. So instead he did the one thing that he could do in the available moment and tucked his right legs in to unbalance and tip himself while pushing with his left legs to send himself toppling to the side to avoid her, before tucking into the roll to quickly get back onto his hooves in order to throw her a salute.
"Apologies, Your Highness!"
Luna returned the salute. "Apology accepted, Lieutenant, but please be at ease."
He nodded and slowly lowered his hoof to the ground again, but continued to remain standing at attention regardless.
"I suppose that is better," she sighed, "but that is not important at the moment. Right now I am simply relieved to be seeing you right now. I was getting quite worried."
"I don't understand, Your Highness," he admitted.
"I suppose that is to be expected. But rest assured I will do my best to explain the situation before us, Lieutenant," Luna assured him. "You have been unconscious for over fifteen hours. Not merely sleeping but outright unconscious, trapped within a dreamless state. I have been trying to make contact with you for the last hour, and have been wholly unable to do such. I actually had to wait for you to reach a point of merely being asleep in order to get here," she explained.
"I apologize, Your-"
Thunder's attempt at an apology was silence as Luna gently pressed her right forehoof against his lips and shook her head.
"You have no need to apologize for something that is far outside of your control. And especially not while you are dreaming. Rarely do ponies have any control over the when or what they dream about, Lieutenant, and even then that control is extremely limited," she explained calmly before removing her hoof from his mouth.
He nearly apologized yet again, but stopped himself and simply nodded in understanding.
"Your Highness, what exactly happened? Why am I here? Why was I unconscious? Did... did the changelings invade us again? Did I get cocooned a third time so I couldn't sound the alarm?"
Luna shook her head in response. "Nothing quite of THAT magnitude, Lieutenant, but whatever did happen is certainly not good. We are still trying to piece together all of the details to get an accurate picture, but what we do know is that you were found in the showers this morning, unconscious, injured, and freezing. For a while we were not even certain you could be saved. Had Lieutenant Slam Fire not found you when she did, we might not even be having this conversation right now."
The vague implication that he'd been so close to death without even realizing it sent an unconscious shiver down Thunder's back and underneath his armor. Somehow it being alluded to rather than outright stated had made it even more uncomfortable to hear. But as uncomfortable as that had thought had been, something else was sticking out in his mind at the moment. Something that felt a bit more pressing and worth addressing.
"Your Highness, you said that I was found this morning?"
Luna nodded. "Correct."
"But you also said I was found by Lieutenant Fire. But she's on the morning shift, just like I am. She wouldn't have found me in the showers until the late afternoon at the earliest when her shift ended," he stated.
"Lieutenant, I just informed you that you were almost dead when you were found," Luna stated slowly as she tried to emphasize the last part. "Ponies usually react much more physically, even viscerally, when they find out they were so close to meeting their end."
"I apologize, Your Highness, I'll be sure to do better in the future," he replied quickly.
"Lieutenant that is not what I-" she stated, before giving up and letting out a frustrated sigh. "I did not mean that I expected you to react in such a manner. You are free to take the news however you wish. I simply did not anticipate your reaction to be one of asking about your coworkers and their respective schedules."
Thunder nearly apologized yet again, but one look at the expression on Luna's face was enough to put an end to that endeavor before it could even be attempted. Leaving him simply standing there, silently and still at attention.
"No matter. Lieutenant, you apparently have quite the reputation when it comes to being punctual; to the point those I have spoken with have said they could set their watch by you. When you did not report to receive your assignment this morning, your fellow guards knew that something was amiss and began searching for you. I cannot say for certain just how many guards were involved in the search, as I have not been privy to such details and did not witness if for myself. But to hear others talk, makes it sound like the entire morning shift was turning the palace upside down as they tried to find you," Luna continued.
"That's to be expected, we're taught at the Academy to be vigilant of anything out of place. We're tasked with ensuring pony's safety. If we see something we're supposed to respond accordingly; investigate, alert, and respond. Otherwise ponies could die," he stated.
"Of course. As to be expected..." Luna replied slowly, almost sounding annoyed as she spoke.
"Your Highness," he spoke up slowly, "is there anything that I can be told about my condition? I remember slipping in the shower, but I don't understand how that would be enough to leave me practically dead."
"I wish that was possible at the moment, Lieutenant, but I cannot tell you anything," Luna replied as she shook her head. But she was quick to follow up and continue. "Not because you do not deserve to know, but because even I do not have that information. The doctors at Canterlot General Hospital have yet to inform us of the cause of your predicament."
Canterlot General Hospital? Had he really just heard her right? One little slipping in the shower had been enough to land him in the hospital, practically on death's door?
That couldn't be right. Something very confusing -and concerning- was going on around here, and it didn't seem like anypony had a clue exactly what that something was. That really didn't sit right with him. That didn't sit right at all, and he had to do something about it.
"Your Highness, you have power over sleep, right? Can you wake me up in the real world? I'd like to assist in the investigation however I can."
"I am sorry, Lieutenant, but I cannot do that. I may watch over the dream realm, but I have no control over when and how ponies sleep. Even if I did, your body is currently under heavy sedation so you do not stir and injure yourself further. Even if I could awaken you, I am afraid it would leave you trapped inside your body and unable to do anything but listen," Luna explained and shook her head.
He would agree, finding himself in such a position didn't sound particularly pleasant to experience. It sounded downright maddening. Given the choice, being in a dream he couldn't wake from was definitely the preferable option to trying to fight against sedation.
"I admire your dedication and sense of duty, Lieutenant, but you are simply in no condition to be doing anything but rest right now. Your body does not even have enough mana to power the spell that would heal your broken leg, the doctors instead had to wrap it in a cast."
That wasn't a statement he'd been prepared to hear. Had his efforts at healing himself failed because of not having enough mana to fuel the spells, rather than being a matter of simply not being able to focus his magic at the time? And if that was the case, what did that really mean for him? What was he supposed to do, just laying here in bed, unconscious with a broken leg and no magic? What good was he as a Guard to anypony right now?
"Rest, Lieutenant," Luna instructed. "Do not concern yourself with matters beyond your control. Your dedication to service and strength of character are admirable qualities, but even the strong need to be helped. Let us deal with these matters while you heal."
Thunder tried to speak up, but no words would come. As much as he wanted to insist that there had to be something that he could do, something that would allow him to contribute, something that would prove he wasn't useless to them, nothing would come. No retort, or denial, or refusal could get past the look she was giving him right now, with an expression that was practically daring him to try and deny the facts that'd been laid before him.
He had been rendered useless to any of them, and there was nothing that he could do about it other than accept his fate for what it was.
"As you command, Your Highness..."
The hour was quite late, but Celestia had found herself unable to contemplate resting right now, consumed by a gnawing sense of anxiousness as she paced about her office. All the while wishing that she had some sort of distraction upon which she could focus the nervous energy that presently possessed her.
She didn't recall exactly when the news about Thunder Strike's predicament had reached her. Nor did she care to try and remember when she'd first heard, as it would only add to her anxiety.
Sitting on her haunches in the middle of the room was Luna, eyes closed, horn alight and head held up, doing whatever it was that she did when it came to dreamwalking. All the while never saying a word as she sat still as a statue. Were it not for the occasional rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, she might've been mistaken for a statue.
Joining their little duet was a pony who was obviously just as tired as she herself was, but who didn't have the benefit of an alicorn's constitution on her side.
A casual observer would be forgiven for thinking that Spitfire of the Wonderbolts was currently in their company, as there was more than a little similarity between the two ponies. Both were pegasi, with almost identical fur/feather colorings to them, perhaps enough to suggest a familial connection existed between the two when one simply wasn't there. The only real way to tell them apart if they ever stood side-by-side was to look carefully at their individual mane styles, and see if they were looking into either orange eyes or green eyes.
Lieutenant Slam Fire had been the one to find Thunder Strike this morning as he laid in the showers, unconscious, badly injured, and trembling under the constant stream of cold water that'd soaked him to the bones for who knew how long.
She was also arguably the one responsible for making it possible to save his life, literally hoisting the unconscious stallion up onto her back -nearly buckling under his weight- and galloping as fast as her legs would carry them to the infirmary, and all but plowing through the swinging doors and collapsing after crossing over the threshold.
She might've been able to keep a stony, expressionless face as well as any guard, but her body language did much to convey just how anxious she was, despite her own exhausted state. Frankly the only thing keeping her awake right now was said anxiousness, and a stubborn unwillingness to go to bed until she had word on his condition.
"It could be two in the morning before we receive any word, Lieutenant," Celestia gently warned her, "you'll be exhausted by morning."
"That's why ponies invented coffee, Your Highness," she retorted as she continued her uneasy pacing.
"I could order you to bed, you know? The only reason you're in here with us is because I granted you permission to be in here. I could easily throw you out," Celestia pointed out.
"Wouldn't do you any good, I'd perform a boomerang up sweep loop and be right back in here before you could shut the doors," she stated.
If she weren't so tired, Celestia would've smiled. At least the Lieutenant's sense of humor was still intact throughout all of this. If she were tense and snappy, she might've been worried.
"Just so long as you're aware of what you'll be getting yourself into come morning," she said as she relented.
"Strike's one of us, Your Highness. He's always been there to offer a helping hoof when my wings need preening and I can't do it myself. I'm not going anywhere until I get word on how he's doing," Fire stated firmly, before finally letting out a yawn.
Celestia smiled at the camaraderie on display. But any further discussion was prevented as Luna's horn ceased glowing and her eyes opened again, and then proceeded to leave them both waiting with baited breath as she slowly stood up and stretched before finally speaking up.
"Lieutenant Thunder Strike is both alive, and presently dreaming."
"Huzzah!" Fire yelled excitedly.
Luna frowned in response. "That is my line, Lieutenant," she warned.
Fire's good mood immediately ceased out of fear, suddenly feeling like a foal who'd been caught with her hoof in the cookie jar.
"O-oh..."
Luna nodded, before holding up her right forehoof.
"Huzzah."
"Huzzah!" Fire yelled again as she shared a high-hoof with Luna.
"Now go. Tell the others who are still awake the good news, so that you can all get to sleep," she instructed as she set her hoof back on the floor.
Fire nodded, before hastily saluting and breaking for the door.
Luna smiled as she watched her leave, before telekinetically shutting the door behind her, and then turning to Celestia with a far more serious look on her face.
"Sister. We need to talk. There is something wrong with that stallion. And I do not mean something relating simply to his physical condition."
Slam Fire galloped through the balance halls with intent, focused more on her destination than on how she was getting there. If she had been paying attention she might've realized she could just fly there faster. But that was neither here nor there for her as she was guided by matters other than practicality. She was being drive by optimism with a smile on her lips as she made her way towards the guard barracks. This was the first good news they'd gotten in fifteen hours, and she had to share it with the others. They had all helped in the search, they deserved to know just as much as she did.
With one final push as she approached, she propelled herself forward and dove through the doors leading into the barracks, nearly sliding along the floor as she did.
"Strike's alive and dreaming again! Princess Luna said he's gonna alright!"
A triumphant chorus of "Huzzah!" rang out throughout the room in response.
The sudden tonal shift from Luna, switching from upbeat and positive, to all business, had caught Celestia off guard. She hadn't even had the chance to ask what was meant, before her sister had already started talking again.
"Once he finally started dreaming and I could make contact with him, I made inquiries of what happened so that we might use his experiences to assist in the investigation of events that occurred. All that he remembers happening is slipping and falling in the showers. I do not believe that he was assaulted as we initially believed he may have been."
That brought Celestia a measure of relief. But it was short-lived as Luna wasted very little time in continuing to talk as she began to pace.
"That is the good news. Now for the bad news," she huffed. "We only spoke briefly tonight, and I admit that I could be wrong, but I believe there are serious psychological issues at hoof here."
"Such as?" Celestia asked.
"First and foremost, I have seen the dreams of many guards since my return, both mine and yours. They are as varied as the ponies that make up the Royal Guard. And out of all of them, he is the only one I have ever met who is wearing his armor at all times. Not once, in any of his dreams that I have observed, have I ever seen him without it on.
"I looked back over past memories and dreams just to double check, and it is the one constant across all of them. It is almost as if he sees his armor as a part of himself, or himself as being a part of it. In the few times that I have ever had to intervene, I am always met and greeted by Lieutenant Thunder Strike, not simply Thunder Strike," Luna stated.
Celestia listened, but she didn't know what so say yet. Not that it would've mattered, as Luna was already speaking again and wouldn't have let her get a word in edge-wise.
"I informed him of the news that he was almost dead when he was found this morning, because I believe he deserved to know the truth of the matter. Do you know what the first thing out of his mouth was?" she asked as she stopped pacing to turn and face Celestia. "A question relating to the work schedule of his fellow guards. He honestly did not seem to comprehend the idea that his friends might be worried about him upon noticing his absence.
"I told him about how they were leaving no stone unturned as they searched for him, and he did not react. He did not smile, or express relief, or anything a normal pony would do at hearing such news. He simply said that is the job of the Royal Guard; to investigate when something is wrong. He did not even say it in a way that would suggest a smug, narcissistic sense of self-worth. It was as if the notion of camaraderie never even entered his mind."
Celestia tried harder this time to speak up. But nothing seemed able to stop Luna as she continued to speak, and began pacing more aggressively than before.
"But as bad as that was, what came next was arguably worse. I tried to assure him that everything was alright, and all he needed to concern himself with was resting and his own recuperation while we tended to matters on this end. And instead of looking relieved at hearing the situation was well in hoof, I saw a look of utter terror flash across his face like I have never witnessed before.
"I was merely trying to help him be at ease, and he reacted as if I had I had just dismissed his entire worth out of hoof, and told him to his face that he no longer had any value to us as if he were a piece of garbage!"
Luna finally stopped her pacing and ranting, forced to finally take a breath and groan as she hung her head in frustration.
"You did not see what I saw, Sister. You did not see the hurt in his eyes when he thought I was dismissing him and his commitment to serving in the Royal Guard. Even after being informed that he had a broken leg and no magic left to run on, he was still ready to throw himself at my hooves, all but begging me to awaken him so he could try and prove he still had merit to us!"
All throughout, Celestia hadn't been able to get a single word in. And now it looked like being the sole speaker had taken its toll on Luna as she stood there, panting heavily and looking like she was about ready to have an emotional breakdown. So she did the one thing she could do as a big sister, and walked over to her little sister to drag into a much-needed hug.
"I eventually managed to calm him after the... incident, but it was not easy. Before I left to come back here, I offered to place him in whatever dream he wished for, for the duration of his rest. Do you want to take a guess just what that dream was?" Luna asked.
Luna snorted in response. "Far from it. He requested that I place him at his posted assignment for the day," she replied. "He is currently dreaming away about standing guard in the palace courtyard, keeping an eye out for anything out of place. And he is content in believing that he is at work."
"So you're saying he's a chronic workaholic?" Celestia asked.
"I have met workaholics before in the past. But this is is not that. I fear this may prove to be something worse," Luna sighed weakly, before slowly pulling back and looking up to meet Celestia's gaze. "I genuinely believe there is something wrong with that stallion that apparently none of us have been aware of until now; something that those fancy "psychological tests" at the academy failed to screen out. It is as if he is a guard who never learned how to be a pony, rather than a pony who learned to be a guard.
"I have not yet attempted scouring his memories, as I do not like doing that. But what little I have seen is devoted exclusively to service. I did not see anything relating to hobbies or interests. It is... almost as if the job has devoured him whole and left nothing but an empty shell of the pony that he used to be; as if Thunder Strike the pony simply does not exist, and all that is left is Lieutenant Thunder Strike."
On the outside, Celestia might've appeared calm and serene as she listened to Luna. But inside she was in a rolling boil of stress, frustration, and concern.
She knew that Luna would occasionally exaggerate her assessment of things for a more dramatic effect in order to emphasize a point, but this honestly didn't feel like one of those times. Her little sister sounded like she'd honestly seen something she hadn't been prepared for, and it'd taken its toll on her. Not that she was much better on that front.
Had they really been so unaware of the well being of their own ponies, that a situation like this could've actually developed without any of them even noticing something was wrong? Had they gotten so complacent as to believe the wheels of things didn't occasionally need a little grease to keep them properly running smoothly?
"It was disturbing to see what was not behind that veil of professionalism he portrays, Celestia. He is like... well he is not quite like him, but he is unsettlingly close for a pony who has spent his entire life in Equestria," Luna sighed. "Do you know what he reminded me of as we talked? A clockwork toy. A tin soldier that one would wind up with a key to make it march. That... that is just so wrong on so many levels," she sighed wearily as she shook her head.
"It is," Celestia agreed. "So how do you suggest we go about helping the pony behind the armor?"
"I... have not gotten that far along in the planning stage just yet," Luna admitted sheepishly. "Perhaps start by determining just what we do know about the pony that is behind that highly polished armor. All that I really know about him for certain, is that he can speak both Latin and Old Ponish, and speak them quite well."
A sisterly smirk worked its way across Celestia's muzzle at Luna's words, as an old memory wormed its way to the forefront of her mind. Bringing her sister to Canterlot to show her the new palace where she would be residing, the looks of awe and uncertainty, and then the smile that was brought to her face when "Willkommen zu Hause, Eure Hoheit" was uttered and followed with a polite bow.
A simple gesture to be sure, but one that had certainly been appreciated by both of them.
"That sounds like a fine plan to me," she agreed.
After all, anypony who demonstrated that much devotion and dedication, certainly deserved a little devotion in return.
Celestia sat at her desk, trying to focus on the paperwork currently before her, and not feel a sense of being overwhelmed by the height of the stack that sat on her desk in the inbox.
More annoying than the amount, was how it managed to sit on her desk while simultaneously conveying an utterly dull sense of superiority over her, almost as if it were mocking her with its presence.
She glared at the stack of documents in annoyance, before cautiously looking around to make sure nopony else was in the room with her. And then in a moment of immortal immaturity, stuck her tongue out at the pile.
That matter resolved, she turned her attention back to the document sitting in front of her.
From what she could make out of it, it was a grant application for additional funding for a beautification project for the downtown district of Canterlot; specifically upgrading and replacement of the street lampposts with a newer, sleeker design of body that was quite popular over in Las Pegasus, and even branching into Manehattan.
It was simple, straightforward, absence of any flowery eloquence from somepony who fancied themselves as a wordsmith... and a complete waste of money that could be better used elsewhere for a project that would have greater benefit elsewhere and otherwise. It was quite simple to decide how to respond in this particular case.
Application denied.
With that set into her outbox, she prepared for the next round of battle against her eternal nemesis.
But before she could mount a flying tackle to perform a proper body slam on her nuisance, the door to her office opened as her Raven poked her head inside.
"Your Highness, Lieutenant Strike is here to see you," she announced.
That was enough to warrant Celestia's attention being redirected away from the paperwork that she still needed to tend to. There were more important matters to focus on, and she doubted she was addressing anything that couldn't wait a few more hours if need be.
"Send him in," she all but insisted.
Raven nodded in response and opened the door further before ducking out of the way, standing aside to let the stallion slowly step into the room.
Celestia observed his entry, and nearly had to do a double take at just what she saw.
In polite terms, Lieutenant Strike was something of an outlier that stood out amongst the rest of the guards on staff at the palace. There was a certain peacock quality about him in how he carried and conducted himself in terms of his presentation, professionalism, and seriousness. Always acting as if he were on parade duty at any given moment, and was expected to be spectacular throughout it all.
His armor seemed like it was always polished to the point it practically gleamed in the sunlight, in a manner better suited for the honour guard. Even his helmet's plumed crest looked like it was regularly combed. His chestnut mane and tail were always well combed and trimmed neatly and evenly, and his white coat always seemed brushed and looking like he had himself regularly steam cleaned to maintain that particular shade of whiteness. Even his storm cloud cutie mark looked regularly trimmed and brushed.
The pony that stood before her right now, didn't quite look like that. In truth he really didn't look like that at all. He wasn't exactly disheveled and dirty, but his appearance was a far cry from what she had become familiar with. His mane and tail didn't look particularly well-groomed, and his coat looked like it was varying shades of white; almost as if the spots his armor would cover were a different shade entirely. Tan lines, perhaps?
She knew that him being in the hospital the past few days would've prevented his usual grooming habits from being something he could practice. But the end result was still something she hadn't expected to observe for herself.
If not for how he walked into her office as if he were marching, and quickly saluting her as he stood at attention, she might not even recognize him as the same pony.
"You're looking well, Lieutenant. How're you feeling?" she asked.
"I'm ready to return to duty, Your Highness," he stated as he set his right forehoof back on the floor. "But Dr. Malar said I needed to speak with you, before he'd actually sign off on my being fit to return to work."
"Of course."
One exercising of her magic, and the door to the room slowly swung shut again.
"Please have a seat, Lieutenant," she politely insisted as she gestured to the chair in front of her desk.
He looked uncertain -even confused- at the request, but did so regardless and took a seat. All the while managing to look like the concept of being invited to sit was somehow a foreign notion he wasn't entirely certain how to process, and was simply mimicking what he witnessed her doing.
That really didn't bode well in light of Luna's earlier assessment. But at the same time that just made this discussion all the more important in light of what they now knew.
"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Lieutenant. A lot of ponies were worried when you collapsed the other day."
"I apologize for causing them concern, Your Highness. It won't happen again," he stated.
That definitely wasn't the sort of response she'd expected out of him. Maybe a smile, or a brief relaxing of posture, or something.
"Lieutenant, I didn't have you come to my office so that I could reprimand you for doing something wrong. I'm not blaming you for what happened," she clarified.
He didn't speak up in response. He just looked at her quizzically, as if he couldn't comprehend a reason for why else he would've been sent here.
"Lieutenant-" she started, but stopped and sighed and slowly shook/hung her head before looking back at him. "Thunder Strike. A lot of ponies were worried when you didn't show up for your shift the other day like you normally do. A lot of questions were raised in the ensuing search, and far more were raised after you were found. I can't say that I appreciate everything that was uncovered over the past few days, as we tried to figure out just what was wrong."
She paused as she pulled open the top drawer on the right side of her desk, before pulling out a manila file folder and set it down on the top of the desk.
"This file tells a very interesting story," she said as she closed the desk drawer again and opened the folder. "It tells the story of two ponies. The first pony is a very loyal member of the Royal Guard, who's worked tirelessly towards keeping the palace and its staff safe for a period of two thousand, seven hundred and forty continuous days, and has maintained a degree of untarnished attendance that even my former student, Twilight Sparkle, at one point would've found respectable. Perhaps even enviable.
"The second pony is a stallion who's chronically overworking himself through exceedingly long hours, with a work schedule that no rational mind would ever attempt, and has never taken a single day off for himself, for any reason in seven and a half years; not a vacation, not a sick day, not a holiday, and not even his own birthday. All while having the nasty little habit of taking his coworker's shifts and doing their workload for them when he thinks nopony is watching.
"And the most interesting part of the story? These two ponies are one in the same," she concluded as she rotated the file and slowly slid it across the desk for him to read.
He leaned forward slightly, craning his neck to get a better look at the papers in front of him as he examined them with a quizzical eye. But other than that he had no response.
"The reason you fell in the shower, Thunder Strike? It's because your body literally had nothing left to run on at that point. It's a miracle you had enough steam to actually get into the showers to even begin with," she stated.
"There was work that needed to be done, Your Highness," was all he had to say in response as he moved back on the chair to look at her again.
"There's always work that needs to be done, Thunder Strike, it's an unfortunate fact of reality," she said as she gestured with her head in the direction of the paperwork she still had to go through. "That doesn't change the fact the doctors who examined you made it sound like you didn't even have any fumes left to run on. How did you even manage to drag yourself out of bed and to the showers that day?"
"I didn't, Your Highness."
Celestia was about to ask what he meant by his statement, but stopped herself just before the words could get out. She knew he'd been found in the showers with a broken leg. And she knew from Luna that he had been there, because he remembered falling. So if he hadn't been placed there by others, then...
"Thunder Strike, I'm really hoping that I'm wrong here. But are you saying that you didn't get out of bed? As in you never actually got into bed?" she asked.
The fact that he didn't immediately reply, either in confirmation or denial, spoke unsettling volumes.
"You were awake all night?" she asked. "Why?"
"There was still work that needed to be done. A Guard does not rest until all of their work is done," he replied simply.
She sighed in response. "Did you pull Sergeant Pulaski's work detail again in addition to working overtime?"
"Ah, no, Your Highness. Sergeant Reckless was out of commission with food poisoning, so Sergeant Zacharia covered for her, and I worked his shift," he explained.
"So you pulled the morning, and afternoon-to-evening shifts. Did you have to cover for one of Luna's guards on the night shift as well? Did one of them have food poisoning as well? Is that why you didn't get any sleep?"
"No, Your Highness, it was nothing like that. After I finished working Sergeant Zacharia's shift I had to polish my armor, that took a couple of hours and concluded around midnight. After that I still had reports that needed to be filled out and submitted before the start of the morning shift, as per regulations," he admitted. "But I kept making errors in my spelling and punctuation, and had to start over again from scratch to get them right. By the time I finally got that squared away and finished, the rest of the morning shift was already waking up."
"And after pulling an all-nighter, on top of already working all day, you decided that you didn't need sleep and would simply go right back to work on another eight hour shift," Celestia surmised. "I think I'm starting to understand what the doctors at Canterlot General found during your examination, Thunder Strike."
She paused as another desk drawer was opened and closed, and another file folder was brought out into view.
"I had them send over your medical records, because I wanted us to be in the loop on your condition. And what I saw inside, I really didn't believe at the time. But in light of what you just told me? I'm afraid I don't have much choice in the matter," she explained as she laid the file down on the desk. "When I said your body had nothing left to run on? That wasn't an exaggeration, you literally had nothing left. You apparently reached a point of exhaustion, where your body was literally cannibalizing its own mana to convert into physical stamina, just to try and keep you going a little bit longer.
"I have seen a lot of things in my time, Thunder Strike. But even I didn't know something like that was actually possible. You were literally on the brink of death when you collapsed."
"Is that why I couldn't stand back up after I fell?" he asked.
"Stand back up!? Lieu- Thunder Strike, I don't know how you were still alive and even breathing when you were found. The doctors didn't even know if you could be saved. It's only by Harmony's good graces that you came out of it," Celestia stated.
At this point all she could do was sigh and try not to shake her head.
"Thunder Strike, you're working yourself to death. And I mean that in the most literal sense possible. You were very lucky this time around. But after seeing your work record I'm honestly afraid you don't have enough sense to cease pushing yourself to the breaking point. If something isn't done, I'm honestly afraid one day we'll find you dead at your post, and still standing at attention through years of muscle memory alone."
"That won't happen, Your Highness," he stated. "I promise I'll wait until my shift for the day is done before dying."
Celestia groaned in response, quite certain he'd meant that as a serious statement and not a joke.
"I'd rather my little ponies not die on the job, and especially when they aren't even thirty years old yet. I respect your dedication to service, and your willingness to help others when they're in need, but I don't want it to come at the cost of your own life. You've been working for seven and a half years without a break. That's twenty nine thousand, six hundred and forty hours of your own life, dedicated exclusively to being a palace guard. And that's only the hours that we know about you officially working. I'm certain you've been pulling more shifts than anypony realizes; there's no way that a single twenty-four hour period without rest would be enough to put you in the shape you were in."
He didn't say a word in response. He just continued looking at her in confusion as if she were speaking a foreign language right now. Sweet stars above did he even blink?
"Even if I asked you for the names of whose shifts you were working in addition to your own, I don't think you'd tell me," she sighed, knowing it was futile to even try and go that route. He was far too loyal to his comrades to rat any of them out, even if they were taking advantage of his generosity and use him as a stand in if they felt like slacking off. Not that she actually suspected that was going on.
"Can I go back to work now, Your Highness?" he eventually asked. "I've been gone for five days now, and I'd like to make up for being absent for so long."
Celestia shook her head in response. "I'm afraid not, Lieutenant. You were unconscious for three days, even after the sedation wore off and your leg was healed. You might've been fit enough to be discharged from the hospital, but even I know you're still not back to one hundred percent yet. I'm not about to sign off on you returning to active duty until I'm certain you're not going to collapse again."
Something flickered across his eyes in response as he looked at her. Was this what Luna had been talking about seeing? Was it fear? Hurt? She honestly didn't know. The fact his expression remained stoic throughout only added to the uncertainty.
His movements as he climbed out of the chair and stood back up and raised his right foreleg to salute again were slow, borderline lethargic compared to what she'd seen when he'd entered her office just a few moments ago. It was almost like anything resembling optimism and positivity had just been sucked right out of him, right before her very eyes, leaving nothing but a shell behind.
"As you command, Your Highness," he acknowledged slowly.
Slam Fire winced as she removed the last of her armor, before placing it back on its stand for the day. Five days later and she still had a twinge of pain flare up if she moved the wrong way at the wrong time. It was genuinely surprising just how fucking heavy Strike had been at the time, all water logged and dead weight and such.
Hoisting him up onto her back without jostling his broken leg and injuring him further had been just about impossible in his condition at the time. Hauling him to the infirmary without dropping him or slipping in the trail of water left behind in their wake had been equally just short of impossible.
But he'd been in need, she'd been on the scene, and she'd done what needed to be done. Galloping down the halls as fast as her legs would carry them, using her wings to try and keep him stabilized so he couldn't fall off, and hoping to Faust that her heart wouldn't explode under the strain until after she'd gotten him to somepony who could do something for him.
"Stupid heavy Strike," she grumbled, "got all that toned muscle on him like he thinks he's an earth pony or something. Probably outweighs me by a hundred pounds on an empty stomach."
Would she do it all again if the situation presented itself? In a heartbeat. They were guards, and guards stuck together no matter what!
That didn't change the fact that he was still heavier than any unicorn had any business in being, though. This was going to take a while before she stopped feeling it entirely.
"Lieutenant Fire."
And then she heard the familiar voice behind her, and immediately turned to see him standing behind her. All negative thoughts suddenly vanished as a sense of relief washed over her, driving her forward to throw her forelegs around him in a big hug.
"Strike, my dude! It's good seeing you again!" she stated, before pulling back to look him over up and down. "You're looking good! When did you get back?"
"About an hour ago," he replied simply as he stood there, his forelegs never leaving the floor. "Thank you for finding me when you did. According to everypony who's commented on the matter, I would've been dead if you hadn't found me when you did."
"Yeah you were pretty bad at the time," she agreed and nodded. "You barely had the strength to tremble from how cold you were. I was afraid you were gonna die on my back before I got you to Doctor Malar."
She needed to keep herself composed, and she knew it. If she lost control and started crying at the memory, she'd never hear the end of it. Because she'd never let herself hear the end of it.
"But, hey, you're looking good now, so it's all good and fine!" she stated with a fake positivity that was sickening even to her. "So when are you getting back to work again? The halls feel weird to walk without you around."
"I don't know," he admitted. "Princess Celestia doesn't believe that I'm fit to return to duty. She thinks that I'm a liability."
"What? Seriously?" Fire asked, flabbergasted and in disbelief. "How? You're the most straight-laced guard in the palace. How could you of all ponies be a liability?"
"She's worried that I may die of exhaustion during the course of my duties," he explained.
"Oh," Fire replied, caught off guard by the bluntness of his statement. And despite trying to think up something to say in response, she was coming up with nothing to dispute the idea.
Time to change the subject. Fast.
"Strike, listen, there's a whole palace worth of guards here. They need to earn their keep too if they're gonna work here, right?" she asked. But even she wasn't believing her own words. "We've got a poker game going tonight in the barracks' common room. Why don't you just let the other guards worry about things and swing by? Poker can be very relaxing and just the thing to take your mind off your problems," she suggested.
"I don't play poker. But thank you for the invitation all the same," he replied simply. "I think I'll just get myself presentable again and try to sleep. Perhaps if I'm better rested, Princess Celestia will view me as less of a liability and I'll be able to get back to work."
Fire wanted to sigh, but she couldn't even manage that right now.
"Strike, listen," she started. "You know we're here if you ever need to talk, right? You... you're not in this by yourself, you're one of us. We-"
Words failed her in this case. So she did the only thing she could under present circumstances and hugged him again, holding him tightly in her forelegs.
"Put as much focus and care on your own health as you do on being a guard, alright? You're not a tool like a hammer or a broom. If nothing else, at least pretend that you're worth the same level of consideration as everypony else, okay?"
"... I'll try," he replied slowly, almost sounding like he was reluctant to even say that much on the matter.
The day was officially over and giving way to evening. Celestia could feel that little detail down in her very bones, needling and prodding her to attend to her last official duty of the day and lower the sun so the moon could rise.
But at the moment that needling sensation just wasn't quite enough to get her up and out of her office chair.
The pile of paperwork occupying her inbox had eventually migrated its way to her outbox. But if asked about the finer details of what she'd processed, she wouldn't be able to give much of an explanation. Her mind had been elsewhere the entire time, leaving her more or less running purely on autopilot for the majority of it.
It was only when she felt a shod hoof prodding at her side, did she really come to and take note of her surroundings.
"Bit for your thoughts?" Luna asked her while giving her a look that only a sibling could manage.
"If only," she sighed as she rotated to better face her. "Thunder Strike was released from the hospital today."
"And yet you are not happy about one of our little ponies being in apparent good health," Luna noted.
Celestia shook her head in response. "The first thing out of his mouth when he got back was expressing a desire to get back to work."
"Somehow that does not surprise me. Although I do wish that it did," Luna huffed.
"I didn't want to believe that this could actually be a serious problem. I wanted to believe that this was something that was being blown out of proportion and could be attributed to foalish youth not yet being tempered by reality. But I was wrong," Celestia groaned. "Everything that I tried to get past the guard and to the pony failed. I couldn't make him understand how important it was that his life not revolve solely around his profession."
She groaned again, and leaned back in her chair as she covered her face with her hooves.
"They take the job, knowing full well they could be required to forfeit their own lives and well being in order to protect us from harm. The job is dangerous, the hours are long, they're made painfully aware of this, and yet they still sign up to become our guards. And yet, when we learn about them being the ones in need, there's nothing that we can do for them? Is that truly the situation we find ourselves in?"
"There are those who might say it is not proper for us to concern ourselves with the daily matters of a single lowly guard and view their situation as being important enough to worry about, when we have an entire kingdom that needs our attention far more," Luna acknowledged. "To those who would hold such beliefs I say "Go fuck yourself!" Yes, they are our guards, and it is their job to provide us security. But at the same time they are still our subjects and we have a duty to look after them! If not us, then who?"
Celestia smiled in response. Outburst aside, she needed that forceful energy and enthusiasm that Luna had right now.
"Rest assured, Sister, we will do everything we can to help Thunder Strike the pony. We simply must get past Lieutenant Thunder Strike, the Royal Guard."
"And how do we do that?" Celestia asked, curious exactly where this was going.
"It is all quite simple. But first, you and I get something to eat because I am starving and of no use to anypony on an empty stomach!" Luna stated. "I have been waiting nearly an hour for you and I refuse to wait any longer. Now move!"
Celestia wanted to comment, but was interrupted at her stomach growling at the mention of food, effectively shutting down any discussion on the matter.
"Well when you put it that way..."
"ACHOO!"
The scent of lavender hung in the air of the palace. As did the pollen at accompanied the blossoms.
For some that worked the night shift, it brought a bit of pleasantry to an otherwise quiet and dull period of time when nothing was really happening.
"Gesundheit."
Unless one was unfortunate enough to be like the night guard who went by the name of Fritz. Then all it brought was allergies and a need for antihistamines.
"Thank you," he grumbled.
He was like some, who had signed up for the night shift specifically because it meant working for Princess Luna. But had he known that it would mean doing battle with specific allergens that were prevalent during the time... well he still would've signed up regardless, because the Night Princess was the Fun Princess. But he would've been a little bit more hesitant about the whole thing.
But the matter was pushed to the side as the sound of approaching hoofsteps were heard coming down the hall from around the corner. And then it was forgotten about entirely as a day guard slowly made his way into their view, approaching at a slow but steady pace.
"Now what've we got going on here?" he asked.
"I dunno," his partner, a mare best known simply as Lily, replied and shrugged, before trotting over to meet with the other pony. "Uh... Fritz, could you come over here for a sec? I think something is wrong."
Fritz, curious by this, moved to join his partner in investigating the matter, and blinked at what he saw, not entirely certain of it himself.
Standing before them was Thunder Strike in his armor, but something looked... off. Something that he couldn't quite put his hoof on.
"Strike, what're you-" he started to ask, but stopped as Strike simply continued walking past them as if they weren't even there.
Fritz looked to Lily, who looked back to him. Something was definitely up, and as guards it was their duty to investigate. So they trotted behind him, waiting to see just where this and he were going.
This eventually continued until he just sort of stopped, and remained stationary as he stood at attention at the edge of the hallway.
"Is this some drill or something we weren't told about?" Fritz asked.
"I dunno, but whatever it is I don't like it. His eyes were all glassy, he looked like he was asleep or something," Lily stated.
Fritz raised an eyebrow in confusion, before looking back in Strike's direction and trotted over to where he stood, to investigate the matter for himself. There was definitely something not right, but what that was, he didn't know.
He raised his left hoof and waved it back and forth in front of Strike's face, looking for any signs of eye movement but ultimately saw nothing.
"I think you might be right," he said as he set his hoof back down and looked to his partner again. "I think he's sleepwalking."
"Sleepwalking?" Lily asked. "What're we supposed to do about that? Do we take him and put him back to bed?"
"Well we could. But he might just come right back," Fritz replied. "He's not really hurting anypony. I know, go stamp his time card for him! If he's just gonna be standing there, he might as well get paid for it."
"Isn't that kinda dishonest?" Lily asked.
At this, all Fritz could do was shrug. "He's already got his armor on. Be kind of a shame to waste that. And who wants to be woken up just to go back to sleep?"
Lily just sighed and shook her head, before trotting off to go find and stamp Thunder Strike's time card to go along with Fritz's idea. If anything went wrong, it'd be his fault.
Fritz knew it was his job to stand guard and watch the hallway he'd been assigned to, in the event somepony who didn't belong there came traipsing along into an area they clearly shouldn't be.
But at the same time, he couldn't really stay perfectly focused on his assignment. Curiosity kept bringing his attention back over to Strike's presence where he stood.
He'd been standing there, at attention, ever since showing up, and hadn't really shown any signs of moving from his position. No wobbling or shifting, or anything that indicated his unconscious state was catching up with him and threatening to lay him out on the floor.
In one way it was remarkable and even a bit envious. In another way it was downright creepy and unsettling to observe how he could be so statuesque while simultaneously being totally unconscious. And his eyes... the less said about those glassy, vacant eyes, the better. Just looking at them made his own hurt and water.
"This way."
It made him all the more thankful for the distraction of approaching shod hoofbeats against the palace floor, bringing his attention to something other than his current companion.
He hadn't expected to see Lily come trotting up with Princess Luna following behind her, but that was really none of his business.
"He's right over here," she said as she gestured to Strike's current position, despite it being entirely unnecessary at this point.
Luna simply approached and looked over Strike for herself, as if she were examining a piece of merchandise she was thinking about buying.
"How long has he been like this?" she eventually asked.
"I'm not sure. I'd say... maybe an hour?" Fritz offered in response.
"An hour? He has been standing here for one hour, and you just left him here?" Luna asked.
"I didn't really know what else to do with him right now," Fritz admitted. "And at least this way we could keep an eye on him. You know, in case he ended up falling over or something."
"I suppose that is a fair point," Luna replied while trying not to sound too frustrated while sighing. "But it is still not good for him to be out here, even if he is asleep at the time. The physical strain is not good for his heart."
"His heart?" Lily asked.
Luna nodded. "The doctors found disturbing signs when he was at the hospital. They said had he not broken his leg and passed out when he did, it is likely he would have died from cardiac arrest not long after. That is primarily why he has not yet been cleared to return to active duty; his heart may be in it, but it is not yet up to it. He needs time to recover, and he is doing himself no favors right now. The more he tries to push himself, the longer he is going to set himself back."
"He's... he's not going to die just because we left him out here, is he?" Fritz asked uneasily, now wishing that they'd tried to put him back to bed.
"I do not know. I hope not," Luna admitted, before her horn began to glow and Strike was levitated up and draped gently over her back. "Thank you for alerting me to this. I will put him back in bed, and hopefully he will stay there this time."
"Ahh, the night shift's bunk rooms are closer, and nopony's using them right now. I doubt they'd mind any," Lily quickly pointed out.
Luna contemplated the suggestion for a moment before nodding in agreement.
"Yes, that will work. Lead the way, please."
The walk back to the barracks bunk room was a quiet one, other than the sound of shod hooves against stone flooring as guard and princess walked side-by-side, while their passenger just sort of laid there across Luna's back with his limbs dangling helplessly at her sides like he was a lumpy cloak.
As promised the selected room they eventually arrived at was devoid of any occupants. Leaving them free to operate without having to worry about making any excessive noise that would rouse somepony from their slumber.
"This one," Lily said as she directed her to one of the empty beds.
That was about the sum total of her contribution on the matter, as she watched Luna effortlessly lift Strike off her back, before stripping him of his armor without so much as a single clink, setting it atop the locker, and tucking him into bed and pulling the covers up to his neck.
The fact he didn't try to resist or move once she relinquished her hold on him was promising.
"You are certain the owner will not mind if their bed is used for his?" Luna asked.
"I don't see how, seeing as she's me. He covered for me last week when I needed an emergency dental appointment, and I do mean emergency. The least I can do for him in return is let him have a quiet spot to rest," Lily stated.
"Very thoughtful and considerate," Luna noted, "but now you have me curious. You said that he covered for you? Just how many ponies is he covering for?"
"I... I don't really know. It's never really come up for discussion; not that I know of," Lily admitted.
Luna looked at her curiously for a moment, but then stopped as Strike momentarily stirred in the bed, before eventually settling back down again.
"He's not gonna get back up again, is he?" Lily asked.
"I do not know. I hope not," Luna replied. "Consider your assignment for tonight changed to keeping an eye on him. If he tries to get out of bed again for anything other than using the rest room... then I do not know. Sit on him, if need be."
She nearly snorted in response at how ridiculous the suggestion was. But she saluted regardless, acknowledging her assigned duty and intent on performing them to the best of her abilities.
Once Luna departed and left the two of them alone, she looked to her left. Then she looked to her right. Then she looked to her left once again, and then leaned over and kissed Strike on the forehead.
"Sleep, you exhausted workaholic."
Celestia looked around as she took in her surroundings. Or at least that's what she tried to do anyway.
It'd been a long, long time since Luna had last grabbed her and pulled her into the dream realm. And she honestly didn't remember it looking like an all-encompassing black void filled with an ever-present fog that might be expected on a night in Trottingham.
"Is this the right place?" she asked.
"Unless we took a wrong turn in Albuquerque," Luna quipped. "This is the "right place" in the sense that it will lead us to where we need to be."
"Right," Celestia replied slowly in annoyance to the less-than-clear response. "So explain this to me, just so I know we're on the same page. Exactly what are we going to do, and how is this supposed to work?"
"It is quite simple, Sister," Luna began as she spun around. "Now that we are both in the dream realm, we will both enter the dream of Thunder Strike. There we will both be able to converse with him at the same time. Perhaps he can tune our advice out individually, but not if we are both speaking to him together.
"Matters in the dream world work differently than they do in the waking world. He as well as we will be much more calm and relaxed there than we would be otherwise. He will be much more likely to listen to reason here; the typical fight or flight response is much more subdued there because the equine brain is not as addled and affected by hormones while asleep as it is while awake."
Celestia couldn't deny that the plan sounded like it was well thought out. They had both talked with him individually, and neither one of them seemed able to make him understand that working like he was, was neither necessary nor healthy. So now it was time for a different approach.
"I certainly hope so," she replied. "And at the same time, I hope we only have to take this course of action once. I'd hate to think the Lieutenant is anything more than an outlier in terms of his work ethic."
"You are not exactly alone in that concern, 'Tia," Luna assured her. "Since my return I have encountered multiple individuals who display unhealthy standards for self-conduct. Most of them have needed but a gentle reminder from time to time, to pay attention to their own well being. But this is not like those cases, however, and there is only so much that I can do.
"If we are going to run with the theory that Thunder Strike is but one of potentially many, we may have to begin conducting a monthly audit of hours worked by palace staff, to see which of them may be logging more time than they should."
"We may have to," Celestia sighed in agreement, already mentally running through which accountants she knew or remembered that they could assign such a task to.
"But let us not go and borrow trouble before its time. We must first see what there is to see, and go from there," Luna stated, before tapping her right forehoof against whatever was serving as the ground in their current surroundings.
Celestia nearly jumped as columns and rows of doors came rushing past them, flanking them on either side, before one particular and quite plain-looking door stopped directly in front of them.
"This is the door that will lead us to the dreams of Thunder Strike," Luna explained quite simply, before pushing it open and ushering her sister inside with her.
The scene that greeted them as they stepped through the doorway was unexpected, but at the same time not entirely unsurprising.
They were in the palace, in one of the common areas that anypony could easily access. It was presently buzzing with activity from numerous assembled guards moving about from one spot to another in accordance with assignments being passed out. But it was made up of dull, muted, uninspired colors as far as the eye could see, resembling a pale imitation of the waking world. They were the most brightly colored thing present as they took in their surroundings.
"Is it always like this?" Celestia asked as she glanced about, before stepping to the side as one of the dream guards walked right past her without so much as batting an eye.
"In his case, I am afraid so," Luna huffed. "I have never known Thunder Strike to dream vibrantly. It is always an anemic mimicry of the real world. Drab and depressing, and absent of imagination or even zest. He dreams like a technical manual. A technical manual about work."
Celestia said nothing, as nothing really needed to be said about Luna's assessment of the situation.
"But we are not here to critique a lack of imagination," Luna continued as she eyed the stallion in question, who was currently checking with another guard. "We are here to help a pony in need who is apparently unable to help himself."
Celestia followed her sister's gaze and nodded. "Lieutenant, a moment of your time, please."
"That will not work. We may be witnessing his dream, but we have not yet pierced his dream. He is no more aware of our presence, than any of the others would be," Luna stated. "I wanted to see what we were dealing with, before we interfered. On the off-chance he was having a pleasant dream on his own. But it seems that is not the case."
"It would seem not," Celestia agreed. "So what do we do? Do we go over and poke him or something?"
"I mean... I suppose that is an option? But at the moment I do not believe it would be worthwhile. If we are going to get through to him, we will first need to gather more information on this matter," Luna stated. "It is not something that I am particularly fond of, and try to limit only to emergencies. But we may need to delve deeper into the memories of Thunder Strike in order to find what we are looking for."
"If you believe it's necessary, it's your call. I trust your judgement," Celestia replied. "Can you bring up his memories from the time of the accident?"
"It should be easy enough," Luna replied, before stomping her right hoof against the palace floor and dragging it to the right, causing their surroundings to grow fuzzy and disoriented once again, before finally sharpening back up.
+++
He tried to focus. He tried his very best to focus, and speak slowly, and enunciate properly.
But no matter how much he tried, no matter how deliberately he tried to say his words in a coherent manner, he just didn't seem able to get the quill to follow along. The speech-to-text spells that allowed others to transcribe automatically were a wonderful invention of magical development, at least in theory, but right now they weren't doing him any favors.
The hour was late, and the more he had to start over because of his words slurring or being interrupted by a yawn, the later it was going to get before he could actually sleep.
Reluctantly, he took hold of the quill in his hoof, and sat down at the desk to do for himself what he needed to do.
+++
Celestia and Luna watched silently as the scene unfolded before them. Thunder Strike's own tired frustration was easily palpable as he gave up trying to dictate the paperwork, and instead sat down to write it out himself.
"Those spells really are frustrating to use at times," Luna noted.
"That's why they're still in the trial phase with R&D. The more feedback they get, the more they can improve the final product," Celestia replied.
"Is there a reason thought-to-text has not been used instead?" Luna asked.
"It was attempted, but it was found the quill wanders with the mind if the user didn't maintain complete focus. And it had to be abandoned for speech-to-text when the product testers started drawing penises on one another," Celestia explained.
Luna loudly snorted in response as she -weakly- tried to bite back the desire to laugh, before quickly turning her attention back to the memory playing out for them.
But the mirth quickly drained as they watched him trying his hardest to write by hoof, only to have to repeatedly start over. Again, and again, and again it went on, with each new attempt having to be discarded as he noticed an error.
How many times had he been forced to rewrite the same passage, only to discard it two minutes later because of a word being misspelled, or a punctuation mark in the wrong spot?
He'd only had two pieces of paperwork that actually needed to be filled out and submitted, neither of which should've taken more than fifteen minutes at most. But they were taking an unreasonable amount of time to complete, through no fault of his own other than his own standards for grammar. Standards that he apparently refused to relax even to account for his ever-degrading skill as the night wore on.
It was all the more painful to watch when she realized he was writing by hoof because he was totally drained of mana right now, and wouldn't be able to use his horn for writing even if he'd tried.
+++
"... Finished..." he finally sighed as he put down the last period and set the quill aside, before giving everything one final look over to ensure everything was right. "Now maybe I can get some sleep."
He finally sat up and stretched his back as he yawned and scratched at his side, before his eyes drifted up to the clock on the wall.
The realization was silent yet horrified as his sleep-addled brain slowly processed and registered the fact that it was morning. Specifically the time of day when other guards would be waking up and getting ready for the morning shift.
He'd been up for literally the entire night, and was facing the very real fact that his shift was coming up soon, and he wasn't anywhere near ready for it.
"I've still got twenty minutes before breakfast is served," he mumbled.
Slowly, knowing what he had to do, he pushed himself up from the desk he'd been sitting at. And with equal slowness he turned to leave, silently making his way through the palace towards his intended destination.
+++
Luna tried not to comment. She had known that he hadn't gone to get some sleep on that day. But actually witnessing it for herself was still disturbing. It was like watching a train wreck unfolding.
+++
Despite his best efforts to exercise discipline and assert dominance, all efforts at not letting out a yawn utterly failed as Thunder Strike slowly trudged his way into the barracks showers, his hooves clopping against the pale blue tiles of the floor with each slow step taken as he tried to maintain both his balance and his vertical status. He'd already lost the early morning battle against yawning, but he was not about to let something as inconsequential as equilibrium get a win against him as well.
As long as he was methodical in his steps, his gait, and his speed as he made his way over to the closest stall, he would be alright. As soon as he got there, he could lean against the side wall for support and he'd be alright.
Finally at his intended destination, he braced his body against the half-wall of the selected stall, before placing his right forehoof on the shower control and wrenched it as far as it could go.
Immediately his whole body went stiff as he forcibly clenched his teeth to bite back the yell at being subjected to the deluge that was at least ten degrees below what anypony's tolerance would be.
But it was having the desired effect. He was already feeling more awake and alert than just a moment ago, as his heart was beating, his blood was pumping and adrenaline was flowing. And with that alertness came awareness, including a vague awareness of having an entire eleven precious minutes before breakfast was to be served, in order to get finished up here, get dried off, get himself combed and presentable, get his armor on, and make his way to the palace mess hall in order to eat.
All in all, if he didn't dawdle, he might be able to make it there with thirty seconds to spare.
+++
"He cannot be serious!" Luna protested. "After spending a full twenty four hours working and not getting any sleep, he seriously intended to go back to work for another eight hours without rest?"
"It would appear so, Luna," Celestia slowly acknowledged.
+++
Once there he could grab a cup -or three- of the strongest coffee the kitchen staff had prepared that would make even Spike and Twilight Sparkle gag, and get him through whatever his assignments for the day were.
"Maybe top it off with one of those five-hour energy shots available in the palace commissary for good measure," he mumbled to himself.
With all that in mind he pushed himself away from the wall and reached for the knob to turn off the water.
Exactly what the cause was, was entirely unimportant, as it didn't change the fact that he had slipped and fallen faster than he could catch himself and break his fall before he landed with a heavy thud.
+++
Both sisters jumped when he fell to the ground. It'd happened so suddenly they hadn't been prepared for it to actually happen, and winced at the sound of bone breaking on impact.
+++
His vision went hazy and unfocused, his senses disoriented as they tried to process and make sense of just what had happened a second ago.
"Owww..."
The groan was low and dragged out as he tried to rub his head with his right leg since it wasn't currently pinned underneath his barrel. He knew that he was hurt, just not the extent to which he presently was hurt.
As his vision finally cleared and he could reevaluate his surroundings, he became vaguely aware of the fact his left foreleg was currently bent at an unnatural angle at the cannon. He was also vaguely aware of the amount of pain he was currently experiencing in the limb. And perhaps more worryingly, the amount of pain that was lacking.
"That can't be good," he mumbled, aware of the fact the sensation of pain was there, but unable to really process it beyond it just being there; like a post-it note on the bulletin board that already had numerous other such notes tacked up there.
+++
"That is a massive understatement!" Luna all but hollered futilely at the conjured memory. "Sister, did you know it was actually possible to be exhausted to the point of not being able to feel pain?"
"I admit, I didn't know that was possible. Just as I didn't know it was possible for a pony's body to cannibalize its own mana to convert into physical stamina," Celestia stated.
+++
"I really don't need this right now..." he sighed as he tried to survey the extent of the damage, before giving up completely. It was broken and that was all he needed to know. "I'd better tend to that."
He wasn't the first Guard to have broken a bone, and he likely wouldn't be the last either. Although slipping in the shower wasn't exactly high on the list of causes for that. But that didn't really matter right now, as it wouldn't be found out.
He wasn't authorized to perform medical magic, but he'd spent enough time in the infirmary for one reason or another, he'd more or less learned the spell used for immediately healing bone fractures through observation alone. One quick casting and he'd be as right as rain, and able to stay on schedule. All he had to do was focus.
All he had to do was focus.
All he had to do was focus...
He slowly became aware of the fact that something was wrong here. He was focusing and concentrating, trying to push his mana into his horn to cast the spell so he could get back up on his hooves again, but nothing was happening.
"That's not good," he noted, now trying to figure out what to do otherwise. This was going to require a different course of action.
"Reparare."
If standard magic wasn't going to respond to his efforts, if he couldn't focus with his horn, he'd simply go the route of spoken incantations to get the job done. Perhaps not as flashy or as efficient in comparison, but it still worked.
Except it wasn't working right now. Despite speaking the incantation, his leg was still bent at the same awkward angle. Had he mispronounced it? He'd try again.
"Reparare."
He'd been more careful, more deliberate in his pronunciation, just in case he'd emphasized the wrong syllable. But the results were just the same as last time.
"Reparare," he spoke again, straining the word as he tried to focus everything on making it work, certain he was saying it just right this time.
His foreleg continued to remain bent at an awkward, unnatural angle, as if it were mocking him for his own ineptitude.
"Alright, don't panic, that'll only make things worse. Stay calm and focus on your training. Take stock of the situation, and evaluate what you know. Your left foreleg is currently broken and pinned under you. Unicorn magic is proving unresponsive, and spoken incantations aren't working either. Why this is, we don't know yet. But it's obvious that you're not resolving this situation without outside assistance."
If medical magic wasn't going to solve this situation, he was going to need to go the old school route. He was going to need to get up, and get himself to the infirmary to get fixed up by Dr. Malar instead.
"I'll have to skip breakfast if I want to stay on schedule," he muttered as he focused on resolving himself for what was needed of him, certain that whatever numbness he was currently experiencing was going to come to an end as he got up. "Got to do what you've got to do."
Had he even had dinner last night? He thought so, but at the moment he couldn't remember
+++
"Unbelievable!" Luna practically shouted in disbelief. "Even after being seriously injured, he still intended to go back to work without rest OR food? Does he have no self-preservation instincts whatsoever!?"
Celestia said nothing, far too focused on what they were witnessing to comment.
+++
He tried to push himself up, despite the awkward position he was currently in, but found he wasn't getting anywhere. He was still laying on the shower floor, with his coat becoming ever-more waterlogged and saturated from the spray he'd failed to turn off before falling.
He tried again. Tried to push himself up, tried to roll over onto his back, tried to do anything to move, but nothing worked. His body was proving to be unresponsive to his demands it cooperate. Unresponsive and oh so very heavy right now. And the more he strained to even get an inch of movement from a single limb, the heavier it felt like it was.
"Move. Just... just move..."
Pushing through pain was nothing new to him. Exhaustion, muscle cramps, soreness, and other injuries encountered over the course of his duties had been encountered and worked through before. It was just a matter of having enough determination and dedication to tell the body to stop complaining and cooperate.
But it wasn't working now. Despite his best efforts, despite his stubborn intent, his body was refusing to respond. Even when he focused with all of his might to force his right foreleg to move even just a single inch, it refused to heed his demands.
"Move... please..."
He couldn't move. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he demanded, begged, or pleaded, his body simply refused to obey. It wouldn't stand, it wouldn't even crawl. He couldn't even hold his head up any longer right now. All he could do was lay there, feeling more and more exhausted for his efforts.
"Three seconds, recruit! You have exactly three seconds to pick your worthless self up off that floor right now!"
He had just about closed his eyes when that voice thrust itself into the forefront of his mind. He recognized that voice very well, unable to ever forget the screaming of his Drill Instructor back at the Academy.
"You have the nerve to call yourself a Royal Guard? You're an embarrassment to everypony who ever dedicated their lives to the organization!"
Something deep within him stirred at those words resonating in his skull. Something that demanded a response from him. Demanded that he prove otherwise.
Grunting, he strained against the exhaustion, against the lead-like sensation that'd settled deep into his bones that demanded he remain where he was.
"You pathetic maggot! My grandmother lived to be one hundred and two, she only had three legs, and she could still run circles around you!"
He clenched his teeth, focusing every bit of his will on moving his body into an upright position. He would stand. He would stand up.
"Do I seriously need to tuck you in for a nap, you baby!? Are you a foal!? Do we need to bottle-feed you!?"
Every single muscle in his body protested, practically pleading with him to abandon his current course of action before something terrible happened.
"You're a pathetic excuse for a glue pile, it's no wonder nopony ever wanted to take you in! Did you run away from the orphanage, or did they throw you away with the rest of the garbage!?"
+++
Celestia had been frowning throughout as this new stallion's voice and abusive words entered the equation. But that last statement had been absolutely uncalled for. It went far beyond merely being uncalled for and crossed over into absolute cruelty. Had he really been addressed in such an abusive manner in the past?
+++
Something deep within him broke at those words, snapping like a tie down chain that'd been ratcheted far too tightly. Something that he hadn't even known had ever been there. He would not tolerate such negative thoughts berating him for failing, because he refused to fail. He was a Royal Guard and he would prove his worth.
He pushed. He pushed hard. He pushed with more might than he'd ever used before, unable and unwilling to accept anything less than outright success. He strained both with and against every single fiber of his entire being, refusing to heed to the protests of weakness. Even if he tore his body apart in the process, he was going to stand back up again.
He clenched his teeth, furiously sucking in breath after breath while biting back the groaning his body desperately wanted to unleash as he strained to pick his head up off the wet floor, spurred on by a refusal to give up, pushing harder for this than anything else he'd ever strived for in his entire life. He pushed himself even harder than he had to get into the Guard. He pushed as if the fate of the world itself hung in the balance of him getting up off the shower floor, opening his mouth to finally holler with all the might his strained lungs could deliver as he finally lifted his head up off the ground.
And then he physically collapsed against the floor, the solitary inch of elevation he'd managed to fight for vanishing in an instant as his head made contact with the tiles once again.
All he could do was lay there, gasping for air, unable to even focus his eyes at the moment. All of his efforts, all of his focus and determination, utterly wasted as he remained in a pathetic heap, feeling like his whole body was suddenly made of lead. Utterly defeated by his own ineptitude, and his inability to overcome his own physical weakness. Even just breathing right now felt like it was more effort than he could physically muster.
"I'll just... lay here and close my eyes for one minute. I'll catch my breath, then I'll try again..." he mumbled as the strain of keeping his eyes open finally proved to be too much for him, as the last traces of alertness brought on by the cold shower washed away.
With a reluctant sigh and a half-hearted acknowledgement of his own failure, he finally allowed his eyes to slowly close, heeded the pleas of his exhausted body, and surrendered to the soothing siren's call of the cold tiles beneath him.
+++
When the darkness finally ended and revealed something else, it was the memory of when he'd been dreaming and Luna had finally made contact with him. A memory that was paused once it was realized what it was.
"We both knew what likely happened, based on the medical reports and his own accounts. But to actually see it for ourselves, and the full context behind it... the incident hits so much differently than I thought that it would," she uneasily admitted.
"It really does," Celestia agreed as she nodded. The fact neither of them could stop him as he was falling to the ground was especially uncomfortable.
"I do not understand why... why... why did he feel so compelled to finish those damned reports before going to sleep? Surely he understands that nopony would care that much about when the T's were crossed and the I's were dotted, right?" Luna Asked.
"Thunder Strike has always been an extremely by the book sort of pony, ever since he was a Private fresh out of the academy. A real stickler for following rules and regulations to the letter. If regulations specify all paperwork has to be completed before the start of the next business day, he'll do just that," Celestia replied as she sighed and slowly shook her head.
Whereas other guards had eventually grown out of such a green degree of rigidity and adherence as they gained experience on the job and learned what was important, he was one who never really seemed to move beyond that phase. If anything he'd merely grown into it.
"... We have to dig deeper to get to the root of the problem," Luna slowly surmised.
Celestia simply nodded in confirmation of the assessment.
"I really hate doing this. Ponies deserve their privacy, not our prying," Luna sighed. "But at the same time, I really do not see much choice except to pry."
"I know, Luna. I know."
With a defeated huff, Luna set her hoof back on the ground, preparing for what needed to be done.
Luna reluctantly placed her right forehoof against the floor once again, preparing to do what was needed of her.
"The verbal abuse he was being mentally subjected to as he struggled to get up. That conjured memories of a superior at the academy. That may be as good a place as any to begin our investigative efforts."
She slid her hoof to the right again, once more distorting their surroundings into an indecipherable mess. But no accompanying transition occurred.
"Is there a problem, Luna?" Celestia asked.
"I am... not quite certain. I am experiencing difficulty calling upon his memories. It is as if I am being met with resistance," Luna explained.
She paused, focused harder, and tried again, adding a bit more force as he dragged her hoof along the ground once more.
"This-" she grunted as he brow furrowed, "this is most unusual. I am not even sure how to properly describe it."
She ceased her efforts and let go with her hoof as she shook it.
"In all the years I have been guarding ponies against nightmares, I have not actually encountered a mind I have needed to forcibly read before," she admitted. "For most ponies their mind is like an open book, and memories will flow freely at the slightest inquiry because they cannot help thinking about them. But in his case, in the case of those memories relating to his time at the academy, it is more like a locked box that does not want to be opened. Either his mind is exceptionally well disciplined, or he has acquired some type of outside assistance to render certain memories inaccessible to foreign parties.
"I... do not know if I can brute force my way through whatever this is. And even if I could, I do not particularly want to try. If he is this protective of something that is private to him, then perhaps it would be best to bring our concerns to him, and try to persuade him to allow us in. Get him to help us so that we can in turn help him."
Celestia didn't need dream magic to pick up on Luna's discomfort over the idea of invading Thunder Strike's memories any further than they already had. And in truth she wasn't particularly comfortable with the prospect either. They might've started off hot, but what they'd already witnessed had served to weaken those spirits. Perhaps to a degree greater than they were willing to admit.
"We can do that if you really want, Luna. But if he refuses, we'll still be faced with the same problem we are now, and will have no choice but to pry," she pointed out. "Will you feel any less guilty if he denies us assistance, and we have to proceed against his wishes?"
"... No..." Luna sighed as she hung her head.
"Surgery hurts, Luna, but it's often needed to save the patient from something far worse," Celestia pointed out. "We'll look around a bit longer, but we won't pry. Whatever memories qualify as in plain sight, we'll skim over and see if it offers us any answers. If we find nothing, then we'll go confront Thunder Strike and see if we can persuade him to help us."
As much as Luna didn't like the idea, she could do little more than nod in response.
"... I suppose we should at least determine the extent of this mental block, and see just what it encompasses..."
And so that was exactly what they did.
"I need to get back to the palace..."
This was the one, consistently consistent thought running through his mind as he laid flat on his back on the hospital bed, staring up at the tiles of the ceiling.
He was conscious, and he no longer needed a cast imbued with healing magic as his leg was fully healed, with the bones now able to bear the distributed weight of his frame upon it. He was ready to leave.
And yet he was still here, staring up at the hospital's ceiling, surrounded by hospital-related commotion.
"I need to get back to the palace..."
He didn't need his magical reserves to be completely replenished and topped off to go back to duty. So long as he had enough strength to stand up and stay awake, he could perform his duties satisfactorily.
His armor... he hadn't been able to polish it since before he'd gotten here. It was still sitting on its stand, unattended. It was getting dusty from neglect. It was going to be tarnished by the time he finally got back to it. It was going to take days to restore it back to its proper luster.
If he could get outside and get access to an unattended tree, or a patch of grass, he could accelerate his recovery to the point he'd be fit to be released in an hour, if not less, instead of being here flat on his back, utterly useless to everypony.
Three days. He'd been unconscious for three days. He'd been out of commission for Seventy two hours. He'd been laying here for over eighty hours now.
Eighty hours. That amounted to ten shifts back at the palace. Ten potential shifts that he hadn't been present and available for, because he'd been here the entire time. Lazily laying about when he should instead be up and working. Ten potential shifts going unfilled because he wasn't there. Every hour he laid here was another hour during which work wasn't getting done. Another hour that he wasn't pulling his own weight. Another hour that he was proving to be useless.
"I need to get back to the palace..."
"Well that certainly answers the question of whether you're awake or not."
The sound of a new voice caught his attention and interrupted his thoughts. Lifting his head up to look over to the door, he saw a pony standing in the doorway and smiling at him. A unicorn mare, wearing a lab coat and a stethoscope hanging limply around her neck, with a clipboard currently held aloft in her soft pink magical field.
He immediately recognized her as Doctor Marigold.
"It's good to see you awake, Lieutenant. I must admit, you had us worried for a good while about whether or not you'd make it," she said as she trotted into the room. "How're you feeling today?"
"Like I need to get back to work."
The doctor shook her head. "I think not, Lieutenant. You might be awake, but you're not anywhere near fit for release yet, never mind returning to active physical duty, whatever that might entail."
"I'm a member of the Royal Guard, I have duties that need to be tended to. I don't have time to be laying around."
"And I respect that, Lieutenant. But I also have my own duties to tend to. And those duties include making sure you're well enough to not drop dead while you're carrying out your own duties. I'm sure you can understand that," she stressed. "I admit, I've never been to the palace myself more than once or twice, but I'm sure there's more than enough guards available to pick up the slack if one of you is down."
Pick up the slack... if one was down...
An uneasy feeling was suddenly working its way up his spine, completely displacing the relative comfort of the bed he was laying on. And it was accompanying by an equally uneasy thought. Who exactly was covering his shift? Who was standing watch in his place since he wasn't there to do it himself?
Up until her words, he'd never actually stopped to think about it before. But now that the thought was there, he couldn't tune it out.
"Somepony is having to cover for me and do my work... because I'm not there to do it myself. I'm taking a fellow Guard away from their position by being absent; just like I did when they had to abandon their posts and look for me when I fell in the showers. I'm depriving the palace of resources by being unavailable. I'm compromising the palace's defenses and the efficiency of the Royal Guard by not being there to do my work!"
Biting back on the groan of muscles that'd been sedate for far too long, he pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed.
"I can't be here. I have to leave. Now. The longer I'm here, the more I'm putting others at risk."
The doctor frowned in response. "Lieutenant, you're not going anywhere except back to bed."
"I-"
"Lieutenant Strike! At attention!" the doctor barked forcefully. Far more forcefully than any mare in her size range had any business barking. "If you set so much as one hoof outside of this room I'll write in your file that you left against medical advice. Which will in turn reflect quite poorly on your service record since you weren't conscious to check yourself in at arrival. That will immediately go to none other than Princess Celestia herself. How do you think she'll react to one of her guards acting in such an unprofessional, uncooperative manner?"
Immediately he froze in place at hearing this, all but petrified at her words. And as he sat there, an entirely new sensation was working its way over him. Something that was somewhere between fear and respect.
"I'm sorry. I really am. That was -mostly- uncalled for. I honestly didn't mean to threaten you like that," she apologized in a far gentler tone, as she stepped closer to the bed, and gently eased him back down on the bed with a hoof against his chest. "I get that you're dedicated to your work. I can appreciate it. It's rare to meet another pony who truly understands that a profession isn't merely a job, but a calling towards something that's greater than ourselves.
"I understand how important it is to you, that you get back to work. But it's equally important to me, that you be in good physical health before you're released. If I let you go before you're ready and you keel over dead, then I've done a great disservice to everypony. And you will as well, by making your absence permanent."
Try as he might, he couldn't argue that point. She was right in her position, even if he hated to acknowledge it.
"I've had the honor of meeting some of your coworkers. Especially those who were present when the hospital's records were being audited for evidence of wrongdoing under the command of that bastard. I'm confident the palace is in good hooves, and will be just fine until you return. Which, if you get enough rest, could be as early as tomorrow afternoon," she stated in a far more pleasant tone. "Just give yourself a little more time. You'll be out of here soon enough."
"Tomorrow afternoon," was all he could really say right now.
Just one more day. One more twenty four hour stretch, and then he could get back to work, make up for his absence, and reestablish his worth.
+++
"You're not sick. The Royal Guard does not get sick."
He wasn't tired because he was sick. He simply hadn't gotten enough sleep, what with all of the extra duty he was pulling to try and make up for over half the palace currently being down with the seasonal flu. He was currently dividing his shift into as many positions as possible to ensure as many areas as possible weren't left completely unguarded. That was enough to exhaust anypony.
"You're not sick."
His temperature hadn't actually been one hundred and four when he'd looked at the thermometer this morning. It was a normal one hundred just like it always was, and he'd simply read the device at an angle that made it look higher than it actually was. Mercury was hardly the most scientifically accurate and reliable element in existence.
"You're not sick."
He didn't have a fever that made him feel like he was cooking inside of his own skin. It was simply an unseasonably hot February that none of them had been prepared for.
"You're not sick."
The ice packs tucked underneath his armor were simply there to alleviate the abnormal heat of the day while still conforming to uniform regulations, even though his armor felt like it'd been converted into an oven.
"You're not sick."
The anti-inflammatories he'd choked down dry were simply to head off whatever soreness his hooves would incur from all the walking he needed to do to cover the extra posts that were being left unattended from so many being too sick to even stand up.
"You're not sick."
His stomach wasn't hurting because he was nauseous. It was aching from being empty because he hadn't been able to get breakfast this morning, because he'd been quick to get to work. He refused to idly stand by and do nothing while they were down to less than half a staff, and could easily be invaded. Skipping a meal or two had simply been the price to pay for ensuring the continued safety of the palace.
"You're not sick."
The aches and pains currently plaguing various joints and muscles in his body, making it excruciating to even remain standing were a result of his exercising too hard, and not allowing for sufficient downtime in between.
"You're not sick."
He wasn't presently dripping with sweat. He'd tried a new shampoo last night that'd given his coat a nice sheen before he'd gone to bed, and the light was simply making that sheen shine and caused him to look like his coat was wet.
"You're not sick."
The throbbing in his zygomatic arches was because of the barometric pressure of this unseasonably hot February were out of whack and resonating aggressively inside of the bones in his skull.
"You're not sick."
He wasn't actually hallucinating and seeing the pale horse with piercing blue eyes watching him from down the hall. Said barometric pressure was simply pressing on the sides of his eyeballs and making shadows and light look like something that they weren't during the periods his vision was blurry.
"If you're here to claim me then I apologize, I'm far too busy to go with you right now," he stated. "And if you're here to claim somepony else, then I'm afraid you'll have to go through me first. The Royal Guard protects all who're in need.
"I should warn you, I've taken every advanced combat course that's been offered over the past six years. I won't go easy on you."
A Royal Guard does not get sick. And he was a Royal Guard. He was just fine. That was all there was to it.
+++
Something felt different in the palace today. Something that he couldn't quite put his hoof on; like an oppressive -bordering on demonic- presence was no longer looming over them. The air itself somehow felt lighter, as if the atmosphere wasn't being pressed on, if that made any sense.
Whatever the exact cause was, he really couldn't explain it, he just knew he was feeling it.
If anything, it would only serve to make patrolling the hallways of the west wing of the palace easier, as he didn't feel like his senses were in a heightened state.
It was perhaps for that reason he didn't trot face first into Sergeant Zacharia as he came around the corner.
"Mchana mwema, Sergeant Zacharia," he greeted.
Sergeant Zacharia stopped where he stood and immediately saluted him. And then he stopped as well.
"Is there are problem?" he asked.
Zacharaia shook his head. "No problem. Orders to patrol this section."
The oppressive sensation looming over the palace was gone. But something else had settled in its place, and was alerting him to there being a problem.
First, he'd been saluted. Sergeant Zacharia never saluted him unless they were in the presence of others, or the matter was very important. And even though it was a breach of protocol, it wasn't one he ever chose to push.
Secondly, he knew the zebra worked the afternoon-to-evening shift, so it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities that he was on duty right now. But he'd pulled overtime today, and he knew that this section of the palace wasn't the one he'd been assigned to.
Third, he hadn't been greeted with "Mchana mwema, Lieutenant Strike" in turn.
All added together, it was a red flag that something was wrong. But exactly what, he didn't know; not yet.
"Sergeant," he spoke up slowly, "do you have that twenty bits you owe me from the poker game we played last week? Something's come up and I kind of need it."
The look on Zacharia's face wasn't something he was characteristically known for. If he had to guess, it was one of panic.
"I'll have it for you by the end of the day," he insisted.
"Very good," he replied and nodded. And just as Zacharaia was getting ready to leave, he spoke up again. "Sergeant, before you go. I've been working on my pronunciations like you suggested. Does this sound right? Mama yako anajuta kutokuua kabla ya kuzaliwa."
"... Yes, very good!" Zacharia replied and nodded vigorously. "You speak very fluently for it not being your native language."
"Thank you, it's refreshing to know my practice is starting to pay off," he stated, before raising his right forehoof and offering to him.
Zacharia, in turn, did the same and the two met in a friendly manner.
And then he quickly latched onto the limb with both forelegs and shoved the zebra, pinning him up against the wall.
"You're not Sergeant Zacharia. You're an imposter," he stated simply as he kept the foreleg bent at an angle that was bordering on unnatural. "Now. You and I are going to take a little walk and figure out what's really going on here."
Cooperation hadn't been expected, but the imposter erupting in green flames and being replaced by a pony-sized insect REALLY hadn't been expected.
That momentary lapse of surprise had been all the opening the now-revealed changeling had needed to flip the script and switch their positions, now leaving him pinned against the wall with his legs dangling in the air.
"You're way too smart for your own good, little pony," it hissed at him with fangs bared.
He retorted by quickly tucking in his hind legs and slamming both shod back hooves into the bug's barrel, sending it flying across the hall and crashing into the far wall. Which in turn allowed him to get back onto all fours again.
The palace had an intruder. An intruder he needed to report and sound the alarms about. But at the same time it was an intruder who could easily blend into any crowd. The alarms would have to wait until he could get it restrained/neutralized.
Had he been born an earth pony, the force of the impact might've knocked the changeling out cold. But no such luck as it got up and shook itself off, before being engulfed in a flash of green fire and taking on his visage, right down to his armor. The armor of the Royal Guard.
That... that was just dirty.
"This was supposed to be simple infiltration, not straight up combat," it said in a perfect copy of his own voice. "Now I have to do something that we're both going to regret."
His chosen retort was far less vocal. Focusing his magic towards his back hooves, he lunged himself forward at high speed in a flash of cobalt blue static discharge.
He hadn't collided with his doppelganger, but came within a hair's breadth of clipping its side as he blew past it and connected with the back wall, magically adhering his shoes to the surface just for an instant as he readjusted his position. By the time it turned to look at him he was already using his position as a springboard to leap off at an upward angle, this time actually clipping the imposter's side with his armor and spinning it around and knocking it to the ground as he passed by it, and planted himself against the opposite wall.
Another springboard maneuver sent him hurtling straight towards his target just as it caught a glance of him, utterly slamming into his doppelganger with his right foreleg extended to clothesline the changeling around the neck. From there it was simply a matter of redirecting that forward momentum to allow him to swing around and put his opponent into a headlock as he stood on his hind legs.
He then teleported the both of them to the top of the hallway ceiling, where they dropped to the ground with him landing on top of the intruder as he planted both back hooves on its back, yielding a hearty crunch on impact.
The imposter beneath him groaned before going limp against the ground, showing no signs of shaking that one off. Good.
He climbed off as the changeling lost its disguise and reverted to its normal appearance. Then he prodded at its side with his hoof, just to see if it was playing possum.
"What's going on here?"
Turning towards the new voice he saw his fellow Lieutenant, Piercing Lance, come galloping up to the scene.
"Are you okay? What happened?"
"Changelings," he grunted as he turned back to the intruder, once again prodding its side to try and elicit a reaction from it, and failing. "We need to alert Princess Celestia at once. Can you go do that and sound the alarm while I secure the prisoner for transport and interrogation?"
"Yeah. Yeah I can do that," Lance replied and nodded. "So what gave him away?"
"Sergeant Zacharia didn't recognize his own language, and he's the one who's been teaching me Zebrican," he explained, before summoning two sets of hoofcuffs for restraining the changeling.
But then he stopped and looked up.
"Wait, how did you know this changeling is a male-"
He was blindsided and floored before he ever got the question out. In an instant he was the one who'd been bound and restricted, unable to do anything to counter as he found himself stuffed in a cocoon.
"You really are too bright for your own good, Lieutenant," Lance said with a sneer, before disappearing in a flash of green flames as another changeling revealed itself. "If more ponies were like you, we might not've gotten as far as we did at the royal wedding."
He frowned at the backhoofed compliment, before making ready to retaliate with a lightning rod spell. But despite his best efforts he couldn't actually get his magic to work, and was left with nothing but a sensation of his horn throbbing. Was the cocoon interfering? That definitely wasn't good.
He tried to pry himself loose from the structure, but was getting nowhere. All he could do was watch as the one changeling walked over to the other and kicked it in the side, immediately bringing it around with a startled snort.
"What happened?" it asked.
"You got found out because you don't speak Zebrican. Moron," the other grumbled, before reassuming Lieutenant Lance's appearance. "Get back in disguise before somepony else spots you. And this time pick an easier cover!"
The changeling grumbled, before once again taking Strike's appearance and claiming it for itself.
"It's a good thing we got this one caught if he's that observant. He might've spotted the others and ruined everything," it commented as it tried to rotate its right foreleg and groaned. "Oh scrag does he hit hard!"
"Obviously not hard enough if you're still alive, polyp brains."
+++
The "Red Eye" spell was restricted for good reason. And if any Guard used it then they had better have a very good reason for doing such. It was no different than smashing the glass panel on an emergency box to gain access to the fire extinguisher and pickhead axe housed inside.
The importance of this fact that was repeatedly hammered into them, both at the Academy and beyond. It was not something that was to be used lightly. A Guard had no business using the spell to compensate for the sometimes long hours they might have to work in the course of their duties.
They were less than three weeks away from the one thousandth Summer Sun celebration. To him that seemed like a good enough reason to be using it.
If the old adage about all legends having a grain of truth held true in this case, this occasion would mark the return of Princess Luna from one thousand years of banishment to the moon. And he intended to be ready for such a development occurring.
"First word of the Old Ponish language. Hello is... hallo."
He had nine hours until the morning shift started and he was on duty. With the spell he could get about eight hours of studying the old language in without feeling tired even if he was. From there he could take a cold shower to snap him back awake and alert, down a few cups of the most potent coffee the kitchen had in stock to fuel himself up, and attend his duties without raising any suspicions.
He honestly didn't want to think about all of the horrifying implications that could be had from a one thousand year culture shock. He was desperately trying not to think about them. At the very least the language barrier alone would be quite bad. In the very best circumstances that he could think of, Princess Luna would only have her sister to communicate with for an indeterminable amount of time.
"Good evening is... guten abend. And good morning is... guten morgen."
A Guard must always be courteous to those they interact with. And he would be hard pressed to think of anything that was more courteous than providing a pony in need with somepony else who could understand what they were saying.
"How can I help you... wie kann ich dir helfen?"
+++
The pegasus maid by the name of Shammy, who was presently leaning on him for support as they walked, was much heavier than she looked. Being down to three legs as one was slung across her back to help keep her steady wasn't exactly helping the matter any, and he had to strain just to keep upright and moving.
"It's alright. We're almost there..." he mumbled as she moaned.
Her body was extremely hot, practically radiating heat like a blast furnace. If he had to guess her fever was really bad at this point. Just holding onto her so she didn't toppled over was proving to be borderline excruciating. How was her fur not getting singed?
The ice packs he'd been keeping tucked under his armor were almost completely melted at this point and amounted to practically nothing, but the gel inside still had a little bit of cool left to it. At seeing just how bad she was, he hadn't even hesitated to pull them out and drape them on her back, knowing that she needed them far more than he did. Even if they were limp and in need of being refrozen, they would still be better than nothing right now.
"We're almost there..." he repeated as they trudged along, entirely uncertain if he were saying it to her or himself at this point.
She groaned again as she shifted. Not that he could blame her. The way his stomach was roiling right now, he wanted to do the same. But he refused to do so. Who would believe the pain that came from not having anything to eat since last night could possibly be this bad?
Finally, after what could've been minutes or hours at this point, they arrived at the infirmary and pushed past the swinging double doors.
"Doctor, a little help here, please," he grunted.
"Sweet Faust, not another one," Doctor Mandibular Malar exclaimed around his mask as he and Nurse Goodwill made their way over to the duo.
Shammy might've been helped over to one of the available cots, but it still felt like her weight was resting on his back. And his armor was feeling unbearably hot by now. But he needed to get back to his post, as ponies were counting on him to do what he did best.
"Doctor," he panted, "does the infirmary's freezer have any ice packs that could be spared? Any at all?"
"We're fully stocked on ice packs, Lieutenant. Take as many as you need," Doctor Malar stated as he helped Nurse Goodwill get Shammy situated and looked over to confirm what was already known about her condition.
He nodded, even though the gesture made his head hurt more and likely wasn't seen, before making his way over to the non-perishable freezer standing in the room.
Opening the door, he was met by an arctic-cold wave of air that felt absolutely divine against his hot frame, and for a brief instant he didn't feel like he was about to burst into open flames. It was almost enough to make him want to just stand there and bask in it. But he knew that wasn't an option, and instead focused on trying to focus his eyes and find what he was looking for.
Ice packs. So many ice packs. There must've been as many as a hundred of them on the shelves in all various sizes, just waiting to be used by anypony in need with a sprain, or otherwise unable to bear this excessive heat. He could only imagine the cooling potential that even one of the bigger ones would have to it. For a brief moment he contemplated the notion of simply crawling inside and just swaddling himself in the lot of them.
He slowly became aware of Doctor Malar's magic being in the area as two of the large ice packs were levitated off the shelf. And then he saw the doctor standing off to his side and looking at him.
"Take them, you obviously need them," he instructed.
It took him more time than he wanted to admit, for his mind to process the sheer level of generosity he was being showed right now. He would've been satisfied with just the small ones, but this was far more than he'd ever expected.
He fumbled with his cuirass and nearly dropped it, before quickly catching it and setting it down gently so he could lay the packs on his back and get them situated. As he did he'd been forced to bite back a sigh of utter relief as the sweltering heat that was threatening to consume him was temporarily banished.
"Lieutenant," Doctor Malar spoke up, "I know you're dedicated. And I appreciate you helping so many ponies here when they could barely make it on their own. But you're not doing yourself any favors by keeping your armor on while exerting yourself. Your fever's not going to break if you keep carrying on like that."
"I don't have a fever," he objected as he placed his cuirass. "It's an unseasonably hot February."
"It's fifteen degrees outside and snowing," Doctor Malar pointed out and frowned behind his mask. "You're sick, Lieutenant, just like so many others. You need rest. You were standing with the freezer door open for five minutes before I intervened."
"A Royal Guard does not get sick," he protested.
Even if there were a grain of truth to Doctor Malar's statement, he didn't have time to be sick. They were down too many for him to be laying around. A Royal Guard does not get sick. A Royal Guard does not grow tired. A Royal Guard does not express weakness.
"Well for not being sick you're certainly doing a marvelous impression of a sick pony," Doctor Malar quipped, before reaching out with his magic and plucking his helmet off his head. "You look like you're half dead. You can barely even hold yourself up with how much your legs are shaking. Just how long have you been awake?"
He paused as he tried to recall just when he'd gotten up, but at the moment he didn't even know what time it was. Ever since everypony started getting sick, time just sort of seemed to stand still.
"I don't know," he eventually admitted. "What day is it?"
Malar looked like he wanted to facehoof in response. "That question alone tells me all that I need to know. When was the last time you even had anything to eat?"
The mere mention of food had been enough to send his stomach roiling again, worse than it'd ever been before. He tried to will it into calming down, tried breathing to settle it down, but it was having none of it. He could feel what he'd been trying to stave off for the last six straight hours threatening to happen, he knew that it was going to happen, and there was nothing that he could do to head it off.
"Doctor I-" he gulped, trying to swallow back the creeping feeling that could no longer be suppressed. "I... I-I..."
Doctor Malar said nothing, simply pointing past him over to the wash sink.
"Doctor if you could please look the other way for a min-"
He ceased his borderline frantic plea for privacy/discretion and all but galloped to the station, gripping the edge of the counter for dear life as he leaned over and retched with all of his might, tightly clenching his eyes shut in an effort to not look and see what was coming up as he violently heaved.
A brief interlude, and he desperately tried to breathe after the initial wave had ended, only to cough as another foul wave followed immediately after to assault his throat and violate his taste buds, as his treasonous body made the executive decision to perform a complete upper gastric purge. A purge that continued through several violent waves of continuous vomiting, until finally there was nothing left for his system to actually kick out. A purge that left him coughing and heaving even afterwards, until his stomach was finally convinced there was nothing left actually to purge and gave up on its efforts.
By the time it was finally over, and he no longer felt like an internal organ or two was going to become external, he felt ready to collapse. He was vaguely aware of the sound of running water in the sink, but he didn't remember turning on the faucet. Nor was he going to open his eyes to verify. He then felt something soft being held up to his muzzle.
"Blow your nose, please," he heard Nurse Goodwill instruct from behind.
He did as instructed, inhaling through his mouth and forcing as much air through his nostrils as he could manage, while trying his best not to topple over in the process from suddenly getting lightheaded.
"I apologize," he mumbled as he slowly climbed down, before retrieving his helmet and placing it back atop his head.
"Lieutenant, you can't be planning on going back to work in your condition," Doctor Malar objected.
He had no verbal response to offer, outside of a mere grunt, as he slowly made his way to the doors. He couldn't afford to be down. Even if he was sick -and he wasn't- he still wouldn't have time to be down. Who was going to ensure they weren't invaded if he wasn't there to keep watch? Who was going to help ponies to the infirmary when they were dropping like flies in need of medical attention?
"Lieutenant."
His departure was halted as Nurse Goodwill spoke up softly.
"I really don't feel safe here, with just Doctor Malar and I to keep an eye on all the medicine we have on hoof. Ponies may start panicking and get desperate enough to try something if they think this flu is something much worse. And we took an oath to do no harm, so if anypony broke in we wouldn't be able to do anything. Do you think you could stay and guard us? Please?" she asked him.
A plea for help had been made. And he was duty bound to honor it, even if it seemed suspicious all of the sudden. But a plea for help was still a plea for help regardless.
"... The Royal Guard is always at the disposal of those in need," he replied as he turned away from the doors, and nearly went tumbling to the floor as he did. It was only because Doctor Malar intervened and caught him, that he didn't topple over.
He found himself more or less being escorted over to one of the cots in the room and directed to sit down on the edge, before his helmet was once again plucked off his head and set aside. Aside somewhere that his vision couldn't currently detect because of how blurry and undefined everything was proving to be.
A cold damp cloth was brought in from... somewhere... as Nurse Goodwill gently wiped down his face and around the corners of his mouth to clean him up as he just sat there, vaguely aware of something cold and rigid that'd been in his mouth and under his tongue, only becoming really aware as it was removed.
"One hundred and six. My oh my..."
"I'm sorry..." he mumbled. "I'm sorry that I threw up..."
The blur that he assumed was Nurse Goodwill made a motion like she was shaking her head from side to side.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, Lieutenant. It's not your fault you're sick," she said in a reassuring tone.
"I shouldn't even be here. I'm putting you and Doctor Malar at risk of getting sick too," he mumbled. Did he try and push himself up to leave? He didn't know.
"The entire palace is experiencing an outbreak, the risk is there regardless," she explained. "Such is the price we pay by being a first responder. We save ponies in need, even if it means putting ourselves in harm's way. Just like you being a guard."
"A Guard... thinks not of themselves..." he mumbled, or at least thought he did.
"Well be that as it may, it's all the same. Now then, can I get our guard anything while he keeps us safe from medicine marauders?" she asked.
"I'm forbidden from asking," he replied.
"Oh pish-posh! Just say what you want, Lieutenant, let us worry about whether or not it's possible," she insisted. "Come on, now. One first responder to another. What is it you want? What would help make you feel better?"
He groaned as he tried to remain upright, tried to remain strong in the face of temptation. The nurse in front of him was practically offering him whatever he might've wanted, all but promising him he could have whatever he desired regardless of what it was. This wasn't the first time he'd been presented with such an offer... with such a bribe in the course of his duties. Nor would it likely be the last time such a promise was made.
He needed to be strong. He needed to be strong and remain that way. He was a Royal Guard, and a Royal Guard wasn't supposed to let their own interests interfere with the execution of their duties. A Royal Guard wasn't supposed to curry favor in exchange for services rendered. A Royal Guard wasn't supposed to be weak and let themselves get sick like a foal! A Royal Guard wasn't supposed to vomit their guts out in front of other ponies for all to see!
But so help him, he just couldn't push it away anymore. His strength was rapidly failing him, both physically and mentally. And in a moment of weakness that he would kick himself for if he had the strength for even that, he shakily leaned forward as he tried to keep himself upright, leaning closer to where he was vaguely certain she was, aimed for what he could only hope was her ear, and whispered the answer to her question.
Her blurry form looked at him and maybe blinked, marked only by the contrast in color between her coat and her eyes, before rearing up on her hind legs and gently pulling his face to her barrel while wrapping her forelegs around his back as she held him close.
And in a moment of weakness that he should kick himself for, he allowed himself to slowly sink into the embrace and close his eyes, making no effort to resist the comforting touch as she gently hummed a melody he didn't particularly recognize.
For an indeterminable amount of time, the sisters browsed through Thunder Strike's memories, peaking respectfully through what presented itself in order to get a general summary of what was to be had, in the hopes of finding what they were looking for.
But the more they dug in their search for answers, the less they ended up liking what they found. A matter that wasn't helped by the fact the memories came in no specific, sequential order that would indicate what came first or last.
By the time they reached a memory of Strike helping Lieutenant Fire preen her wings, and her subsequently turning to jelly from his careful machinations as she laid under his oblivious frame, neither one of them really wanted to see anymore.
"So..." Luna started slowly as their snooping finally came to an end. "What have we learned here from this... snoopery that was insisted upon?"
"A great deal more than I was initially prepared to encounter," Celestia reluctantly admitted. "He apparently taught himself Old Ponish inside of three weeks."
"Er, yes, amongst other things," Luna replied as she cleared her throat.
Not that she hadn't appreciated the gesture, but that wasn't the point right now.
"But at the moment I am more interested in what we did not see as we browsed," she continued. "First, I have not seen any memories from before he graduated from the Academy. Secondly, in all of the memories that we saw, I did not see anything relating to Thunder Strike the pony. Nothing related to hobbies, relaxation, relationships, or even desires outside of simply doing his job to the best of his abilities. It was more like a... compulsion as it were.
"I did not even see anything relating to either resentment or contentment with his profession. It is like he has learned how to turn his mind off and simply not think about anything that is unconnected with his work. Or we simply did not dig deep enough to find those memories. And I honestly do not want to dig any deeper to see which is the case. I would much rather speak with him direct."
"Agreed," Celestia stated and nodded. They'd tried things her way, and she hadn't liked the results. Now they'd try Luna's way and hope that something better, something more informative, could be achieved from speaking with Thunder Strike directly. "We could be here all night trying to navigate this maze on our own, and still not be any closer to the answer of what compels him."
The trip out of Strike's memories and back into his dreams was as short as it was simple. And as they saw, the dream had changed while they were away.
Instead of standing guard in the hallway, he was presently keeping watch in the courtyard. If not for the occasional blink, and the sporadic movement as his eyes scanned the area to track any little movement, he might pass for a statue in such drab surroundings.
"Seeing how he dreams, I almost want to introduce an unaccounted for variable, just to see how he might respond," Luna admitted. "Perhaps a succubus-grade trollop that is able to seduce any stallion. Or maybe a hammy villain with delusions of world domination."
"Tempting, but I'm almost afraid to see what sort of reaction we might provoke from him in the process," Celestia admitted. "Let's see if talking to him does any better."
Luna nodded as she two began walking in his direction, before her horn flashed and they were rendered the same dull and lifeless style the rest of their surroundings were cast in. Almost immediately he caught sight of them, and stood even more at attention than previously as he saluted them.
"At ease, Thunder Strike, there's no need for that right now," Celestia stated as they approached him. "We're only here to talk to you, that's all. No saluting, no formalities, just simple talk among equals, so we can help a pony that's badly in need of being helped. A pony who doesn't even realize just how badly he needs help."
"The Royal Guard is always at the disposal of those in need, Your Highness," he stated as he lowered his hoof again. "How can I be of assistance?"
"You can start by telling us about yourself," Luna spoke up. "Tell us about the pony that is behind the armor."
Despite his best efforts at maintaining a neutral expression, it was easy to see the stoic veneer he tried to convey wasn't as disciplined as he aimed for. Right now he was doing a very good job at demonstrating just how confused he was by the request.
"I... I don't understand the question," he eventually admitted.
"Tell us about yourself," Celestia said, repeating Luna's line. "Tell us about your thoughts. Your feelings. What your hobbies are. Tell us about your life outside of your work."
"I... I don't understand the question, Your Highness," he repeated. "I don't understand how learning about me can help somepony in need."
"Because YOU are the pony in need, young Thunder Strike," Luna clarified. "You may not realize it but you are dreaming at the moment. I was alerted by the night staff that you were found sleepwalking in the halls. I carried you back to bed and tucked you in myself."
"I-I apologize for my unprofessional conduct, Your Highness, it won't happen again!" he stated quickly.
"Oh please, you cannot be held accountable for what is done when you are unconscious," Luna stated dismissively. "It is not even your sleepwalking that is at issue, but what was done while you were sleepwalking. You apparently got up, retrieved your armor, got suited up, and proceeded to assume a station to stand guard at, all while unconscious. Had you not picked a station that was already being guarded, you might have been standing there all night."
Celestia nodded before speaking up again. "Just to be clear, you're not in trouble for violating any orders. You didn't intentionally go and disobey by sleepwalking your way onto duty. But you are putting your health at great risk by not allowing yourself the necessary time to recover. And if you don't stop soon your heart could fail from the strain it's being put under."
The look on his face as he listed did wonders to convey the fact he didn't understand what she was saying. At this point he didn't even need to voice his confusion for it to be understood.
"Standing for too long a period without adequate rest can cause cardiac arrest, amongst other health problems. The doctors at Canterlot General warned that if you hadn't collapsed when you did, it was only a matter of time before you dropped dead; they estimated you were only about three days away from your heart failing completely.
"They managed to repair most of the damage with a large infusion of healing magic. But they warned that it still might not do any good if you push yourself before you're ready. If you try to return to duty before you've had adequate time to recover, you could quite possibly tear your heart apart. If that happens you'll bleed to death in three minutes, and they assured me it would be a very painful death if that happened," she warned sternly.
At this point even Strike was unable to maintain a completely stoic, neutral expression in light of the news. This time around he actually did blink at least once.
"Now, with that in mind, I'm going to ask you one very simple question. You don't have to answer it right now, simply think it over. Know that whatever that answer may be, good ugly or indifferent, I'll respect your wishes. But I want the answer to come from Thunder Strike the pony, not from Lieutenant Strike the Royal Guard," Celestia stated calmly. It was only after he nodded in understanding, that she continued. "That question is, do you want to die?"
To his credit, or perhaps against against his credit, he didn't immediately answer. Rather he looked like he was deep in thought at the question, before he ever spoke up again.
"... No, Your Highness, I... I don't," he stated, his words coming slowly but his voice was firm as he spoke. "I am a Royal Guard. I swore an oath to the Guard, to the Diarchy, and to Equestria. I'm willing and prepared to lay down my life in the performance of my duties and in the defense of others. But I don't want to die. And I apologize if I've done anything to give you the idea otherwise."
"Thank Faust," Luna sighed. "I only wish that could be the end of the matter. But I know from experience that it will not be. So now I must ask a most pressing question to you, Thunder Strike. And I would appreciate if you would show me the same level of honesty you showed my sister."
Strike nodded. "I will, Your Highness. A Guard is loyal to command and comrade alike."
"I am glad to hear that," Luna replied as she smiled. "Now... what is it that possesses you to work to such a compulsive degree? You continually push yourself as if the fate of Equestria itself hung in the balance of you doing your job. You consistently work more hours than just about everypony at the palace, as we have plainly seen. Even your dreams seem consumed by thoughts relating to your profession, and I do not understand why."
Strike didn't speak up in response.
"In all the times I have looked in on your dreams while performing my duties, I have seen absolutely nothing that indicates you having a life outside of your profession, and that fact concerns me greatly," Luna continued as she slowly but surely began to grow more agitated. "I have not seen a single dream or memory relating to anything from before you became a guard. Not a hobby, nor evidence of a love interest, nor even a stray thought about what you might do when your shift ends. I have not seen a single thing that would suggest Thunder Strike the pony ever even existed in the first place!
"Everything that we have witnessed in our endeavors to find an answer, everything is Lieutenant Thunder Strike of the Royal Guard, as if that is all there is to you! What I want to know is why is this!? Why, just... just why? Why... why... why do you treat this damnable job like it were the most important thing there is to be had in your life?"
"Because it's all that I have!"
The statement had been short, succinct, and carried far more force than even the Royal Canterlot Voice. Partly because of just how blunt it had been, but mostly because it'd been Thunder Strike who'd made it.
Thunder Strike was not a pony who was well known for raising his voice or displaying visible signs of agitation during his career. If one were to ask anypony who worked with him, they might be told how every word spoken was in an even, measured tone of voice. Every facial expression -limited as it may be- was deliberate. Everything related to how he expressed and conducted himself always gave off a feeling of purposefully weighed and measured, with noting ever left to chance.
There may or may not have been a pool amongst some of the palace staff, to see if it was possible to get a rise out of him, and what it would take to do just that. But it was more a rumor than anything as proof was hard to come by.
So for him to suddenly start shouting was definitely a surprise. One that left the sisters standing there stunned, as that carefully crafted veneer of professionalism seemed entirely absent and replaced with a strained, displeased expression as he panted.
And to watch that expression evaporate and be replaced with a look of realization at what he'd actually just said out loud, was painful to observe.
"It's all that I... that I have..." he repeated, almost sounding horrified by the words that were coming out of his mouth. And even more horrified by the fact that they were impossible to take back at this point.
"It's all... all that I..." Strike had been in the process of repeating for a third time, but found himself unable to actually force the words out yet again.
At this point he was struggling even to just maintain eye contact with the sisters, with his body language doing wonders to convey just how badly he presently wanted to look elsewhere right now. But still he continued, refusing to look away even as he trembled where he stood.
Not that things were much better for Celestia and Luna at this point. Neither one of them had anticipated either his answer or the manner in which it'd been delivered. It was enough to leave them caught off guard, and uncertain of just how they should respond to what'd just been dropped on them like a ton of bricks.
There had been suspicions, yes, but this was outright confirmation of them being fact.
"I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said that..."
The question of how they should respond to the admission was put on hold, as the ensuring silence was broken by Thunder Strike berating himself, and sounding quite displeased at he did.
"I shouldn't have said that," he repeated once again as he shook his head. "A Guard doesn't ask what the kingdom can do for him, a Guard asks what he can do for the kingdom. A Guard does not complain. A Guard must always exercise devotion, to their command, to their service, and to their comrades. A Guard must always be loyal, to command and comrade alike. Without loyalty there is no trust, and without trust there is nothing."
On, and on, and on he continued, reciting tenets relating to the Royal Guard and the idea of what they were supposed to be, both as an organization and individuals. But whether he was reciting them to himself, or to them, was anypony's guess at this point. Whether or not he was even aware of them at this point was anypony's guess.
Frankly, it was a little disturbing to watch, before he finally ceased and thrust his head downward.
"Your Majesties, there is no excuse for my lack of professionalism. I profusely apologize for my conduct just-"
Whatever he had to say further was silenced as Luna gently placed her right forehoof against his lips and over his mouth, before easing his head back up again. She smiled softly, warmly, but also sadly at the same time as she gently shook her head.
"Thunder Strike, please, it is alright. You were simply being honest. You do not need to apologize for your honesty. That in itself is a tenet of the Royal Guard, is it not?" she asked.
He awkwardly nodded in response. Only then did she realize the fact she needed to remove her hoof so that he could actually speak again.
"If anypony here needs to apologize, it would be me," she continued. "I was frustrated over matters that I did not understand, I allowed myself to become angry, and worst of all I directed that anger at you for no reason. And I am so sorry for doing that. You dutifully do hard work, you do not deserve that sort of abuse."
"Indeed not," Celestia agreed. "Luna, could I speak with you for a moment? Privately?"
Luna looked from Thunder over to Celestia, before nodding and trotting over to join her. One flicking of magic later and their color palettes were restored to their previous glory.
"We are now outside the confines of his dream, he will not be able to hear us until we go back in," she stated. After a moment of thought, she continued. "Nor will he be able to read our lips. Considering just what he does seem able to do, I took no chances."
"A wise decision," Celestia replied and nodded. "Did you see what I saw? Was there a crack in that veneer of professionalism just a moment ago when he thought you were belittling his career decisions? Or was I imagining things?"
Luna shook her head. "You were not imagining it. That was a genuine emotional response from him that we witnessed. That was... it felt like actual fury. I thought we might actually be getting past the Lieutenant and to the pony, but then he just... seemed to lock himself back down again. As if he was aware of what was about to happen, and he retreated back that protective shell of his before it could actually happen."
"Or the Lieutenant part of his identity won't allow for his true self to be known," Celestia mumbled to herself. "It's your call, Luna, how do we proceed? Do we pull back and observe him in the waking world? Do we try and keep the pressure up until that shell cracks?"
"I do not want to break him," Luna stated and shook her head again. "He is already broken enough if he believes being a guard is the sum total of his worth in life. He is far too young to be harboring such depressing thoughts."
"I don't want to break him either. I'd rather not break anypony," Celestia assured her, "but we have to do something to help."
"I am aware of that, Sister. I have seen what you have seen," Luna pointed out testily. And even more testily, she sighed in frustration. "Five days without working was enough to make him sleepwalk his way onto duty. I do not want to think what he will do if told he has to be on medical leave for a solid month. The guilt and mental stress alone may be enough to kill him. He would not even make it two days before he is helping the cleaning staff polish the palace from foundation to spire."
"That may not actually be far from the truth," Celestia said as she chuckled weakly. "Back when he was a Private, I found him doing something along those lines."
"He was doing guard duty and cleaning duty?" Luna asked.
"Not exactly. Back then a maid by the name of Dust Bunny was having a hard time cleaning a particularly high spot, because her field just couldn't extend those last few inches needed to reach the point that needed polishing. He happened to be in the area at the time so he told her to climb up and stand on his back to make up the difference."
"He was serving in place of a stepladder?" Luna asked.
Celestia nodded. "At first it sounded like something entirely different was going on, as I'm sure you can understand. But there they were, him doing his best to stand up under her weight, and her doing her best to finish as fast as she could while trying to maintain her balance. Once they were finished and she climbed off of him, she polished his cuirass as a thank you for his help.
"I waited until they were done and parted ways before finally coming around the corner. Otherwise he probably would've saluted me out of reflex and sent them both toppling to the ground, which nopony needed to happen. And he tried so hard to act like nothing had happened, and everything was normal. It was so hard for me to keep a straight face and not let on."
Luna smiled at that. "That is oddly adorable. If I had known about that previously I would have brought up that memory, simply so I could see it for myself," she admitted.
"Maybe later. Right now we still have business we need to tend to... right after we figure out how to do that."
"I know. I just... do not know how yet," Luna admitted uneasily.
As was done when they'd first arrived, she planted her forehoof against the ground and dragged it towards the right, grunting as she felt the same sensation of resistance presenting itself and forcing her to abandon her endeavor.
"His mind is just as secure as it was before we talked. I tried to bring up something from his foalhood just now, and that mental block will not yield. It is as if he has completely sealed off everything that has no bearing on being a guard," she stated. "He may be telling the truth. The Royal Guard may very well be all he has, because he has subconsciously suppressed everything else; as if his life begins and ends with his service."
"The same service that may very well end his life if things don't change," Celestia muttered grimly. "... If we could keep him distracted, keep him from being able to mentally balance himself again, could you get past that mental block and see what we're dealing with?"
"Under the right circumstances? Maybe," Luna sighed and slowly -almost sadly- shook her head. "But I am done with this sneaking about shit. I am fed up with the lack of answers, and ready for the "tough love" approach if it is needed. I am fully prepared to march back in there, and be every bit the hardass superior our office affords us to be if that is needed to make him open up and tell us what we want to know so that we might help him."
This time it was Celestia's turn to shake her head. "Let's hope that it doesn't require that approach. I don't particularly care for when we have to go that route of doing business."
"Right," Luna sighed again. "So. Do you have any strategies in mind?"
"My dear Luna... I'm making it up as I go along."
"How comforting," Luna deadpanned. "I suppose I have heard worse ideas in my time. But I would be hard pressed to recall any of them right now."
The best way Thunder could think to describe his current situation was... weird. That was possibly the most concise explanation he could come up with right now.
For the second time in a week he'd thought that he'd been performing his duties normally, only to later learn the fact that he'd actually been dreaming the entire time.
The first time had been in a meeting with Princess Luna informing him about his health status. And now it was with both members of the diarchy, who had appeared to talk to him, then they'd disappeared to talk privately, and had then reappeared again after what seemed like a second to him.
Weird was the only way he could think to describe the matter right now, because "Average Tuesday" just didn't quite do it justice.
"Thunder Strike," Celestia spoke up, "I believe we got off on the wrong hoof when we first showed up. If we're going to talk, it'd best be done in comfort. What say we go somewhere more comfortable and just... relax?"
Weird was definitely the only way he could think to describe the matter right now.
"If that's what you wish, Your H-"
"No," she interrupted and shook her head. "I'm asking what you want, Thunder Strike. What is it that you want to do," she stated.
The question immediately made him seize up in thought as the situation suddenly went beyond mere weirdness. This was adviser territory, and he was no adviser.
"I... don't know, Your Highness," he admitted, keeping it short and straight to the point.
In truth he did know what he wanted. But he'd already asked that this afternoon when he'd gotten back from the hospital. And that simple wish had been denied. Was he supposed to make the same request a second time when he already knew the answer? Was there really any point in asking for anything after that?
"Thunder Strike," Luna groaned tiredly, "is there anything that you do want? Anything that does not have any connection to your service as a guard? Anything at all? Surely there must be something, yes?"
He felt himself tense up in response to the question. His interactions with Luna had been... limited to only a hoofful of times when their paths had crossed. But in all of them he'd never heard this particular tone of voice being used. She sounded... almost like she was in pain. Almost like she was pleading for something she held as important to her. And for better or worse, she was looking to him to prove her with that something.
He knew that he had to answer. And there was only one answer that he could give.
"A Royal Guard thinks not of themselves, Your Highness..."
Luna looked like she was about to respond, and perhaps in a less than polite manner, but Celestia stopped her before she could get a word out.
"Thunder Strike, please don't take this the wrong way. But I don't know who you're trying to bullshit more right now, us or yourself," she stated. "I've met many guards in my time, and I can tell you with certainty, that contrary to popular misconception they're not unthinking, unfeeling automatons. They're ponies, just like you, me, and everypony else. All of them have thoughts, feelings, and desires for things that have no relation to the work they do. From the mundane like red velvet cupcakes for dessert, to... well I'm sure you understand I can't really go into detail about what some ponies have wanted," she stated, slightly uneasy as she spoke the last part.
He listened as she spoke, but ultimately chose to remain silent and simply wait to see where this was going before he contributing anything in response.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting something for yourself, Thunder Strike. Being a guard doesn't make you any less of a pony, and being a pony with natural desires doesn't make you any less of a guard as a result," she stated.
Silence ensued. He was fairly certain that she was done talking at this point. Meaning it was safe for him to finally speak up.
"Can I please go back to work tomorrow, Your Highness?"
The look on her face was very much like what he'd seen, back in her office when he'd first presented the question. He'd already known what the answer was going to be, even before she'd started to close her eyes and shake her head to confirm that fact.
"Then there's no point in my asking further," he slowly concluded.
In response, Luna let out a growl of annoyance as she all but glared at him. But before she could start to shout, she bit back the urge, and took a breath to steady her nerves.
"Thunder Strike, I do not want to yell, but I just do not understand you in the least," she admitted, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "Please, help me to understand. Why is this so important to you? Why are you drawn to your work like a moth to a flame, even when you know that it is killing you? It nearly did kill you, but still you crave returning to it and doing even more, and I just cannot fathom why this is. Please, tell me, why is your work more important than your own life and well being?"
"A Royal Guard's duty is to serve their command to the best of their abilities, Your Highness," he replied, in the simplest, most concise manner he could manage. "I swore an oath, to the Royal Guard, to the Diarchy, and to Equestria that I would do just that; perform and execute the duties of my station to the best of my abilities, be it paperwork or preventing an assassination attempt. Just as countless Guards for countless generations have been doing before me."
Luna looked at him, before looking over to Celestia who looked back at her.
"Thunder Strike," Celestia spoke up, "I admire your dedication to upholding that oath. But the way you've been going about doing that just... well it just isn't actually necessary. Even during the early days of Equestria's founding and unification when things were far more turbulent, we never required the guards to work as many hours as you've been putting in. 'To the best of your abilities' doesn't mean you're expected to squeeze every waking hour out of the day that you can."
"Indeed not," Luna agreed as she shook her head. "A guard does not break their oath by taking a vacation once in a while. But what you were doing... nearly a dull decade of fifty-six hours weeks, forty additional hours of overtime a month on top of that, without ever taking a day off the entire time? Something like that just is not sustainable long term. I am amazed you made it as long as you did before collapsing; a lesser pony would have been dead from attempting that."
Thunder's only response was silence as he continued to stand at attention, with the expression on his face remaining neutral and impossible to read.
"Different Guards have different circumstances, skills, abilities, and thresholds, Your Highness," he eventually stated. "Lieutenant Lance can't gallop as fast as the rest of us, but excels in the use of polearms. Lieutenant Fire isn't as strong as Lieutenant Wall, but excels in maneuverability. Every Guard must determine for themselves, how they can best go about upholding their oaths. Some simply aren't able to do the same degree of physical work as others."
"Oh really now?" Celestia asked curiously. "And what exactly makes you so special, Thunder Strike, that lets you invest so much more time than your comrades?"
"I... can't answer that question, Your Highness," he eventually replied. "No matter how I might try to phrase an explanation, I can't think of how to give an honest answer without violating at least three tenets of the Royal Guard in the process."
At this point, Celestia could do little more than shake her head in response.
"Thunder Strike, those tenets you refer to aren't rules that carry a legally enforceable weight to them; in all of my time, nopony has ever been punished for not being able to abide by them. They exist simply to instill ideas about what service should entail, not dictate the full scope," she explained. "And now you've got me extremely curious, how your answer could in any way violate those tenets. I'd like to hear what you have to say."
Luna opted to simply nod in agreement.
Again, Thunder remained silent in response. But this time he didn't look quite as stoic and unreadable as he had been a moment ago. He looked like he was deep in contemplation, and trying to determine just what to say.
"A Guard does not speak ill of their comrades. A Guard does not complain. A Guard must always be loyal, to command and comrade alike. Without loyalty there is no trust, and without trust there is nothing," he spoke slowly, but it was unclear exactly who he was speaking to at the moment.
Finally, he turned his focus back to them.
"Other ponies who joined the Royal Guard and entered the organization, did so from the position of already having preexisting duties, obligations, and responsibilities that they had to focus on. Businesses, school, friends, families, in addition to what would be asked of them and their service. They have to weigh and balance those obligations and requirements for themselves," he stated slowly. "I... don't have those same obligations, so I don't have to make those same decisions, Your Highness. The reason I can devote more time to my duties as a Royal Guard, is because I actually can."
"Thunder Strike, I am not certain I understand what you are saying," Luna admitted. "Could you elaborate on what you mean?"
"I don't have any family, Your Highness," he stated simply.
"No family?" Luna asked, looking flabbergasted by the admission. "You mean NO family at all? You are an orphan?"
"I was an orphan. I aged out of the system," he explained with all the emotional range of a lukewarm cadaver, as if the difference between the two standards was actually important enough to point out and clarify.
"And after you aged out of the system, you went straight to the academy, before eventually making your way here to work at the palace, and have been working ever since," Celestia surmised.
"Correct, Your Highness," he replied and nodded.
Celestia simply nodded in turn, uncertain what else she could really say right now. If nothing else this at least answered a few questions relating to inconsistencies in his service record.
"That is just horrible!" Luna stated. "I had no idea that you... that you actually had no one. I cannot imagine how much that must have hurt."
The fact he didn't immediately speak up, in confirmation or denial, didn't go unnoticed.
"Not having any of those distractions to deal with means that I'm free to devote more time, energy, and focus to my duties, to perform them to the best of my abilities."
There was a sharp hitch in the sound of Luna drawing in a breath through grit teeth.
"Sister, could I speak with you just a moment? In private?"
Celestia had just barely exited Thunder Strike's dream before Luna's composure broke. Before she even had time to respond, her sister had already thrown herself against her in order to put her in a tight hug. All she could do was stand there as she was practically clung to for dear life.
"Luna, are you alright?"
"No, no I am not alright!" she stated as her breath hitched. "I have met many orphans in my time, many more than I would care to count, but never have I met one who made it all the way into their adulthood without ever being adopted. I... I was not prepared to encounter such a horrible development right under our noses of all places!"
Celestia could do little more than drape her wing over her sister's back, and simply give her the time she needed to calm down.
"I knew that we might not like what we found as we investigated Thunder Strike, but I did not imagine encountering such a vile turn of events. Nor was I prepared for... I cannot even think of how to describe it. It was as if he felt nothing when detailing what his experience was. There was nothing behind his eyes as he spoke, neither resentment nor sadness.
"There was not even a sense of numb acceptance, as that would imply him making peace with what he felt, but he does not feel; not like a normal pony does. A compulsive sense of duty to his profession is the only thing that is present in him, because his profession is the only thing in his life that he does have. It is... almost like he believes he was born solely to be a guard, and nothing but that matters."
"Bringing us right back to where we started," Celestia surmised. "We still need more information to go on, though. Finding out he was an orphan tells us more than we knew, but it's too early to write everything off as being because of that."
"We have to go back in and ask him more," Luna concluded in turn. "Very well. I just... need a moment to compose myself. I am still shaken by the fact he has gone his entire life without a family. Even when we were separated from one another for a thousand years, we at least had each other in the time leading up to that point. We knew that we would meet again, one way or another. But to meet a pony who did not even have that much in their life..." she could only groan in response and hang her head.
Thunder Strike's initial assessment of the situation he found himself in remained unchanged.
The diarchy had come to his dreams to talk to him. They'd disappeared for about one second, before returning to talk some more, and then disappearing again.
They'd reappeared once again, just like they had the first time, and then things went from simply weird to much weirder.
Before he'd even had the chance to speak up and ask if there was a problem, or otherwise see if his services were needed in the waking world, Princess Luna had wasted no time trotting over to him and throwing her forelegs around him as she sat down on her haunches to pull him into a tight hug, and quickly brought her wings into the equation as well.
It wasn't exactly objectionable to be getting hugged, but it was certainly confusing as to what exactly had brought it on. All he could do in response was look over to Princess Celestia in hope of an explanation, as he waited to be released again.
Finally she did get involved, by tapping her sister on the withers.
"Luna, that's enough. You're going to scare him if you don't stop," she urged.
Luna sighed in response and eventually complied, slowly pulling herself back to let him go.
"I apologize," she stated, but to whom it was directed remained uncertain. "Thunder Strike, I am so sorry for what you had to experience while growing up. Nopony deserves that sort of existence. I was... not prepared to actually encounter that tonight when we came to help you."
"I apologize, Your-"
His statement never got out, as he once again found his mouth being pinned shut by Luna's hoof as she quickly shook her head.
"Thunder Strike you are not the one who needs to be apologizing for what you went through growing up! You have been apologizing for far too much that is simply not in any way your fault. And while it is certainly polite, it is entirely unnecessary. A rock does not apologize for being hard, a reaper pepper does not apologize for being hot, and an orphan does not apologize for not being adopted. Is that understood?"
Just as previously, he nodded in response, unable to speak around her hoof until she finally removed it from the equation.
"Good then," she stated and sighed. "I believe we, once again, got off on the wrong hoof. It is obvious that more work must be done than we thought. Will you accompany us to a more comfortable surrounding so we can just... relax? Together? The palace courtyard is nice, but hardly the most comfortable location to be having this sort of conversation."
The subject of the question was quite similar to the one that'd been asked previously. The question that'd started this whole recent mess. The question that he couldn't answer honestly because it would upset them all over again if he told them the truth about what he thought.
A Guard must always be loyal, to command and comrade alike. Without loyalty there can be no trust, and without loyalty there is nothing. It was a basic tenet of what it meant to be a Royal Guard. And part of being loyal meant being honest when questioned, regardless of the consequences that might arise.
But he had been honest when he'd answered the question the first time, and it'd only served to upset them. Upset them and... bring them distress. Bring Princess Luna pain. He'd ended up hurting her in his efforts to exercise loyalty to them.
A Guard... must not hurt others...
"I can do that, Your Highness," he agreed and nodded.
The smile he received in response... he couldn't remember seeing a smile like that before. It almost looked like she was smiling out of relief, from hearing him say what they wanted him to say.
A moment had passed and the surroundings had changed. Gone was the courtyard he'd been standing watch in, as it was replaced by a... he paused, not entirely sure what he would describe this room as looking like. It didn't look like any room he'd ever been in before, and his duties had taken him into just about every room in the entire palace.
This was grand, and comfortable looking, with an aesthetic appeal unlike anything he'd witnessed before. The carpeting, the wooden floors, the walls, the windows, even the furniture all looked like it was intended to blend together into one another in an overall fashion. This was all well beyond his pay grade and he knew it. Maybe it was a country club?
"Please have a seat, Thunder Strike, there's no need to remain standing at attention the entire time," Luna spoke up as she made her way over to one of the overstuffed chairs and sat herself down.
He glanced about the room, taking in the decor but more specifically the available furniture that was already being made use of. All of it looked swollen, overstuffed, like it could swallow a grown pony right up if they made use of either the recliners or the sofa.
Eventually he did as was requested and finally sat down, easing himself down on his haunches as he made use of the carpeted floor.
His flanks had just barely touched down on the carpeting, before he caught sight of Luna shaking her head and sighing, just before she levitated him up off the floor and gently sat him down on the sofa.
"On the furniture, Thunder Strike; you are a pony, not a pet," she added.
His first instinct had been to apologize for his actions. But he managed to bite it back, reasoning that would only serve to further aggravate the sisters. A different response was necessary.
"This furniture looks very expensive. If I actually sat on it, my armor might damage it, Your Highness," he explained.
"Perhaps so," Celestia acknowledged softly, bringing his attention back over to her as she took a chair for herself. "But you're not actually on duty, so you don't need to be Lieutenant Strike right now. Why don't you take that armor off, be yourself, and simply rest while we talk some more," she suggested.
Thunder, in turn, looked down at himself as if he were trying to decipher what she was saying.
"I... don't actually know how to do that here, Your Highness, it's never come up before," he admitted.
Hearing this, Luna let out a sigh of frustration and tapped her hoof against the floor again. In a flash Thunder's armor was now completely absent, leaving him looking much like he had upon his return to the palace.
And now outside of his armor, he looked a lot more uncomfortable as he seemed to fidget on his seat in its absence.
"I-I don't know if I can relax like this, Your Highness," he admitted as he looked himself over. "Could I please have my armor back? I feel a lot more naked than I thought I would without it."
"That is a rather fascinating observation," Luna noted, "I cannot do that for you at this time, Thunder Strike. But I can do the next best thing."
Just as had happened with him, Luna and Celestia's regalia vanished from view.
"We do not need the trappings of our respective offices separating us at this time, we are simply ponies meeting as friends for the purpose of helping one another. We shall all be naked together!" she declared.
"Really, Luna, did you have to phrase it that way?" Celestia asked.
"Yes I did, I am trying to go for a laugh to help ease the tension," Luna shot right back.
"Whatever," Celestia sighed and shook her head, before turning her attention back to him. "Thunder Strike, I'd like to ask you a question if you don't mind. What sort of hobbies do you have?"
"I... don't understand the question, Your Highness," he replied slowly.
"Hobbies. Interests. Activities to pass the time when you're not working," Celestia clarified. "Don't take this the wrong way, but even you couldn't log sixteen-hour days for over seven years without a break. It's just not physically possible, no matter how much dedication is had, the physical strain would've killed you years ago. And your covering for other guards notwithstanding, there still must be some stretch of time when you're not working that you have to yourself."
Thunder slowly nodded in response, all the while with a look on his face that suggested he'd been caught in the act of doing something scandalous.
"This is the part of the conversation where you're supposed to speak up and say something in turn," Celestia eventually stated when he showed no inclination to speaking up on his own.
"I apologize, Your Highness," he replied. "Most of my time not spent working goes to either reading or exercising."
"That is good to hear," Luna stated and smiled. "With how dedicated your mind is to your duties, I was worried. But hearing that you have at least something to do when not working is a relief! What do you like reading the most? The old classics? Detective novels? Crime dramas? Do-it-yourself tutorials? Comic books by chance?"
"Training manuals," he replied as simply as he did flatly. "Whenever possible I reread training manuals from the Academy to ensure my knowledge about rules and regulations is both correct and accurate, as well as up to date in the event of a revision being released."
Luna suddenly found herself slack-jawed as she listened, sitting there in stunned silence at what she'd just heard. Surely he couldn't be serious, could he? That was... that was homework. Nopony did homework to relax! Homework was the antithesis of relaxation!
"I'm almost afraid to ask what your exercising consists of, if you count training manuals as reading material for relaxation," Celestia admitted.
"Should I not say, Your Highness?" he asked.
Celestia shook her head in response. "I think we might be a bit past that point by now. Please proceed."
"I've been trying my best to keep my skills adequately sharp as of late, Your Highness. Standing at attention without slouching, marching in accordance with how we were taught, refraining from distracting physical stimulation like random itches that pop up at inopportune times and compromise our focus. Basic calisthenics to remain physically in shape, fine-tuning my magic for greater precision in use, even strength training in the hopes of being able to do what Lieutenant Brick Wall can do. I've even been attempting to read books from across the room in an effort to train my eyes and mind to better pick up on minute details with a mere glance."
Now it was Celestia's turn to be shocked to hear. This was not the type of answer she'd expected to hear, and it was quite concerning.
"Thunder Strike... why... why would... why would you devote what little time you have away from work, to doing more work? I'm afraid I don't understand."
"I quite concur. That is excessive and unhealthy. This is what you do all the time? It is no wonder you almost died!" Luna stated. "Why?"
"... Because neither the Royal Guard, nor you, deserve anything less than the absolute best that I can offer, Your Highness," he replied slowly, all the while looking uncertain if he should be looking at them or away from them. "Recent developments have shown that I'm failing to deliver on what should be the absolute minimum standard of performance. Meaning that I have to do better."
Celestia drew in a breath, held it, counted to ten, and slowly released it in an effort to calm herself down.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting to do better, Thunder Strike. Recognizing one's own weaknesses, and working to improve themselves, is an admirable and respectable trait to possess. But at the same time, there's such a thing as trying too hard. I don't say this out of disrespect or dismissal, but from hard-earned experience that I learned for myself along the way. There are simply times and situations when no amount of effort will ever be enough to accomplish a given goal. There are things that I can't accomplish. There are things that even Discord can't accomplish, hard as that may be to believe. Do you think that I'm not trying hard enough if there are things even I can't accomplish?"
"No, Your Highness," he replied slowly as he shook his head.
"Then why aren't you extending yourself that same courtesy?" she asked pointedly.
"... Because my inadequacies are partly responsible for the second changeling invasion being allowed to proceed as far as it actually got, Your Highness," he stated, slowly and solemnly as he tried to continue addressing them. "A Guard must always be aware of their surroundings and what's beyond them. But I wasn't that day. I knew that something wasn't right when Sergeant Zacharia was patrolling the wrong hallway. I managed to incapacitate and apprehend the changeling posing as him, but I never stopped to think that Lieutenant Lance might've been compromised as well. And by the time I knew otherwise, it was too late and I was already being cocooned.
"I spent hours hanging upside down helplessly like everypony else who'd been caught, trying anything and everything to get loose. Horn-based spells, spoken incantations, pure brute physical strength, even working my entire body back and forth to try and snap the cocoon loose from the ceiling we were hung from, but nothing worked. And by the time we were finally rescued, by the time the plot was finally uncovered, I was too weak from struggling to be of any use..."
By now he was no longer looking at them as he spoke, but rather towards the floor.
"Rescued. The noble Royal Guard, needing to be rescued from a changeling incursion, like a bunch of untrained civilians. All because I wasn't doing my job adequately," he grumbled darkly. "I can't even swear an oath on my honor as a Royal Guard to not let it happen again. Because trust in our fellow Guards is integral to our service. Without that trust, there can be nothing. That trust was exploited, but to respond accordingly would serve to effectively destroy it. All that I can do, is try to better myself, until the point I'm not able to be a liability to anypony."
The two sisters shared a silent, uneasy glance in light of Thunder's words, neither one of them entirely certain about how to respond just yet. On the one hoof, it sounded like they at least had something more to go on than they had previously. In this case that something was guilt. Lots and lots of guilt from the sound of it. More guilt than was healthy for a pony so young to be carrying around like that. But on the other hoof, it just raised more questions than answers about what the best course of action was.
Fortunately for them, it was a subject they were both well-versed in, and Luna nodded to Celestia, deferring to her.
"There's nothing wrong with experiencing a sense of guilt, Thunder Strike," Celestia spoke up in an assuring tone. "Guilt is what stops us from becoming monsters. Uncaring, unfeeling monsters who don't think twice about inflicting pain and suffering on others, simply because we can.
"But guilt isn't something we can just force to go away. And when efforts at trying to assuage that guilt become an all-consuming, self-destructive obsession, then it becomes a problem. Did you know that a pony will literally die before they'll let themselves believe that it's alright to forgive themselves for what they've done? Or worse, what they believe they've done?"
Thunder Strike remained silent as he listened and slowly looked up to her as she spoke, paying attention to her words.
"I wish that I had more comforting words to offer, but I only have the truth. And I'm afraid that simple truth is that sense of guilt we carry never truly goes away. It can be lessened, it can be ignored over time, but it'll always be there, no matter what we might do. Always present, always ready to make itself known at the most inconvenient time when we least expect it and are least prepared to weather it.
"It's been over one thousand years since I was forced to banish my sister to the moon, and I still feel guilty about it to this day, even though I had absolutely no say over what the Elements of Harmony would do to her. I certainly wasn't expecting banishment to be at the top of the list," she explained.
"And that does not even approach my own experiences at the time," Luna chimed in. "Do you have any idea what it is like to find your body taken over by a malicious entity, intent on using your frame for its own purposes? To see and hear everything that your body is doing, while being helpless to do anything to stop it even when you are trying to resist with every fiber of your being? Now that is real guilt. I pray that you never come to know such horrors for yourself."
Not even Thunder could prove stoic enough to not react to the disturbing imagery brought on by Luna's statement. Even he could feel the horrified reaction across his face. And he knew that his own struggles in the showers, against a body that refused to heed his demands to stand back up, couldn't hold a candle to what she'd experienced. It would be insulting to her, to even try and compare their experiences.
"Now then, I need you do to me a small favor," Luna stated as she climbed down from her perch to stand back up. "There is a pony in need of help, and you are the only one who is able to help him out of his plight."
Before he could get a word out edgewise to ask who was in need of assistance, he was met with a full-length mirror being conjured in front of him, leaving him staring at his own reflection as it stared back at him.
"This is the pony. His name is Thunder Strike. He is a young pony with a big heart, who wants nothing more than to do his very best. But he is unforgivably hard on himself and refuses to believe that the best he has to offer truly is his best, or that his best is good enough to meet his unwavering standards of review. He is carrying an ever-increasing amount of guilt on his withers, and it is driving him towards an early grave because no amount of outside assurance is enough to help him understand and accept the simple fact that there really is nothing more that can be done. He needs to understand that he is not to blame, and that he can forgive himself for being a simple mortal pony, with limits just like anypony else.
"He needs to hear you tell him that he is forgiven for not being perfection incarnate. And he needs to hear you tell him, because only you can make him understand that he does not have to die in pursuit of that goal, just to be considered good enough," Luna explained.
Thunder sat silently on the sofa, his view of the sisters blocked by the mirror while he stared at his reflection, as it stared back at him.
Finally, after a long stretch of still silence, he slowly shifted his position to look past the mirror.
"I can't do that, Your Highness," he stated slowly. "I apologize, but I can't. I... I just can't do that."
Luna and Celestia slowly looked at each other, not really certain what to think by this turn of events. Out of all the developments they could've prepared themselves for encountering, this wasn't one of them.
"And why not?"
"... Because it'd be a lie if I said that, and a Royal Guard doesn't lie," he replied slowly. "Perhaps he does need to hear it. But it's just not something that can be done."
Celestia fought not to groan in response. "Thunder Strike, the changeling invasion caught all of us off guard. We-
"Not the changeling invasion, Your Highness."
Celestia's spiel about how the changelings had taken every last one of them by surprise was halted before it could even properly get started. And the memory of what she'd been getting ready to say was fading as curiosity took over, demanding that she be silent and listen up.
"I... I shouldn't have said that," he mumbled and shook his head, looking like he was current in the middle of contemplating just how to go about kicking himself for opening his mouth.
"Perhaps not," Luna acknowledged and shrugged. "But I have been noticing a pattern emerging, where what you "should not have said" is in some way connected to facts that deserve to be shared. Facts that supposedly contradict with the tenets of being a royal guard, but are related to the truth. I suspect that you want to be open and honest, but are afraid to actually do such."
Thunder remained silent as the mirror was moved out of his line of vision, leaving nothing that would obstruct his view or otherwise provide him with something to hide behind.
"If you do not wish to share, then that is fine. You are under no obligation to tell us anything you do not want to tell us," she stated softly. "But not speaking up when something is in need of being said, has a way of causing its own brand of pain and suffering, both for ourselves and others. Sometimes that silence ends up hurting those that we tried to spare, because we did not think that we could speak up."
Luna paused, needing to take a steadying breath before she could continue.
"I used to hate my sister. I used to despise her very being, for how popular she was. She was loved, while I was shunned by our subjects who feared the dark and its shadows in the wake of Discord's reign. But I could not bring myself to tell her this because I loved her as much as I hated her. For a long time she was all that I had, and I could not risk making her hate me in turn. And that inability to tell her what I thought, what I felt, ate me up inside and left me vulnerable to evil."
Another pause, another shuddering breath.
"If I had simply had the courage to speak up, I could have spared so many, so much pain. But at the time I simply could not do it, because I was too weak. I was too weak to open up to her and say what I needed to say, and too scared to do anything but hide my pain away and pretend it was not there. And in the end all I did was hurt everypony, because the truth does not like being hidden away. One way or another, it will make itself known."
There was a lot more that she wanted to say to him, but she just couldn't get them out. If she stayed on the topic much longer she was going to need to step out in order to compose herself yet again.
And for better or worse, she just couldn't talk him into telling them what they needed to know. He was going to have to make that decision for himself. All they could do was offer words of encouragement and support, and wait for him to follow through with whatever decision he was going to make.
"A Guard... must always be loyal, to command and comrade alike..."
It wasn't a bold declaration, but a quiet mumble as he focused more on the floor than anything else.
"A Guard doesn't lie..."
Celestia glanced over at Luna as they stood silently, observing him and his actions, waiting to see where this would go if they didn't interrupt the natural progression.
"A Guard... must always do the right thing..."
Slowly, he sat up straight and stopped hunching over, before returning his attention to them.
"I... a long time ago, before going to the Academy, I did something that I shouldn't have. Something horrible. Something that can't be forgiven," he stated slowly, all the while looking like he wanted to look anywhere else except to them right now. "I... I hurt another pony, Your Highness. I hurt them on purpose, because I wanted to. I hurt them... him, I hurt him because I hated him. I hated him and what he said. I wanted him to stop, but he wouldn't. So one day I made him stop. I forced him to stop..."
Watching the bunk room wasn't quite as interesting as guarding the hallways. But Lily had been given a very important assignment by Princess Luna, and she was going to perform it to the best of her abilities. She was going to make sure Thunder actually stayed in bed and didn't try to sleepwalk his way back onto duty again.
She just hoped she didn't actually have to sit on him to do it. Getting into a physical altercation with a heart patient wasn't exactly her idea of fun. And she wasn't exactly known for an overwhelming amount of physical strength. Even if she did try to sit on him, he might just walk his way back onto duty with her still sitting on his back like it was nothing.
At the moment, though, it was just sitting on one of the other beds and trying not to stare creepily as she watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
"Poor guy," she whispered to herself.
And then she noticed something out of place. A tiny glint that hadn't been there previously.
Was that a tear forming in the corner of his eye? Was he crying in his sleep?
"What in Equestria are you dreaming about in there?"
"You... murdered another pony?" Luna asked as she finally found her voice, stunned by Thunder's statement.
The fact he'd just left it there like that, only made the implications of what he was saying all the more uncomfortable with each passing second of silence.
But whatever dark thoughts were forming in his mind at the moment, seemed to be dispersed at the question. Immediately his attention was back on them, with his eyes wide in surprise.
"Murdered?" he repeated, before quickly shaking his head. "No, no, nothing like that, Your Highness. I didn't kill anypony," he assured her.
"You did not? But if you did not murder somepony, what did you do that you believe was unforgivable?" Luna asked, relieved but also curious.
"Murder isn't the only unforgivable act a pony can commit, Your Highness. My action might not've been that heinous, but that doesn't make it any less unbecoming of a Royal Guard," he explained, before letting out a sigh. "I... assaulted another pony when I was still at the orphanage. I got into a fight with another orphan and I... I broke his leg. What makes it worse is the fact that I did it on purpose."
"I'll admit that does sound bad at face value," Celestia acknowledged and nodded. "But I'm curious about the details behind this incident. Why don't you start from the beginning?"
Thunder thought on the suggestion, before nodding and swallowing as he tried to breathe.
"H-his name was Briar Wood, with a sage-colored coat. He was older than the rest of us, and a lot bigger; he was practically an adult compared to everypony else at the time. He was-" he paused in order to swallow again, "he was always brow-beating the rest of us, making the younger ones cry, stealing what little stuff any of us had for his own amusement. Miss Heart... she told him repeatedly to not be mean to the younger foals, but he never listened. But he knew better than to hit us after the first time, because that would've gotten him kicked out."
Luna frowned as she listened, but otherwise remained silent. All the while Celestia did her best to maintain a neutral poker face.
"The things he said to us were horrible, I can't even repeat them. He was always putting us down because nopony wanted him, and he was going to age out of the system in a couple of years. He treated us like it was somehow our fault he wasn't wanted. One... o-one day he was talking to Petunia. She was only eight years old, and hadn't had the time needed to get a thick skin, b-but the things he was saying... he reduced her to tears like it was nothing. Even when she was already bawling, he just kept going. I..."
Even if he wanted to stop at this point, he was unable to clamp back down again. What'd been started couldn't be stopped. It could only be seen through to the end.
"I couldn't just stand by and watch and do nothing. I told him to stop. I told him Miss Heart said to stop picking on us, but he just laughed. He said he wasn't going to stop until he was ready to stop. S-so I told him that if he didn't stop that I was going to make him stop. He just laughed some more.
"He was bigger than me. Stronger than me. He could pick us up and throw us like it was nothing. He could kick me away like I was a hoofball. He... I... we fought."
If they were in the waking world, Luna would be concerned by his current composure. His breathing was elevated, as was his heart rate. But as long as he was asleep it would only be minor discomfort for his physical body. But it was still hard to remember such, going by how he currently looked.
"We fought, Your Highness. And we fought hard. He tried to force me to shut up and stay down, but I wouldn't. I kept getting back up out of the mud he kept shoving me face-down in, because I hated the things he said to us. I hated him so much I didn't even care about the pain from him hitting me. I wasn't going to let him keep saying those things; not about Petunia, not about any of us. I tripped him to get him on the ground, down on his back so that I could jump on top of him. But it didn't do any good, he wasn't even fazed and was going to get up again.
"I... got him pinned and wrapped myself around his left foreleg while I kept my hind legs on his barrel and I pulled. I pulled his leg back as hard as I could, with all of my might. I pulled, and I pulled, and I pulled, and I didn't stop pulling until I heard the crack of bones breaking and him screaming in pain from what I'd just done.
"Miss Heart, she... she..."
By this point Celestia had heard enough to get the gist of what happened, and just couldn't see any reason to make him try and continue any further. He had been through more than enough already in trying to explain his story, had been struggling to keep his composure even when it was obvious it was a losing battle, and them trying to push him any further would just be torture.
Without so much as a word she walked over to where he was currently perched on the sofa, and gently pulled him into a hug. A hug that he all too readily reciprocated as he clung to her for dear life, with his breathing quite concerning as it came out in short, rapid bursts over her wither, and his heart pounding in his chest like it wanted out of his rib cage by force.
"A royal guard is allowed to cry, Thunder Strike, there's no shame in it. Even Shining Armor was known for crying."
His only response was to cling to her tighter, shaking his head almost frantically as his chin rubbed against her back. All the while acting like the mere act of trying to speak would break him.
"Alright. You don't have to if you don't want to. We'll just sit here until you feel up to talking again," she assured him and gently patted his back, providing a measure of physical comfort that he'd obviously been denied for so long.
How many years of guilt had the boy been carrying around without any sort of outlet? How long had he been holding it all in, unable to even hint that there was a problem, and unwilling to do anything that would compromise his idealized notion of what a royal guard was supposed to be? How long had he been in need of help but simply couldn't bring himself to ask for it?
The furniture in the room had been abandoned by its occupants in favor of the carpeted flooring, making it easier for them all to be at a similar position of sitting height.
It'd taken a long time for Thunder to finally calm back down, and his breathing to return to normal once again. Now he was currently still and silent while holding limply onto Celestia, showing no signs of intending to let her go. Not that either she or Luna could really blame him.
All the while, even as they transitioned from furniture to floor, even as he went quiet, Celestia has refused to let go of him. He needed it, even if he didn't realize it, or want to admit to it.
"Better?" she asked, once she was certain there was nothing more left to get out.
Thunder slowly nodded in response.
Only once she was certain that he was truly alright, did she lessen her hold on him. And only once he made no move to continue clinging to her, did she let him go completely and pull back, allowing him to remain upright under his own power.
"I really shouldn't have done that," he stated as he slowly stood back up again. "It was entirely unbecoming of a Royal Guard, and completely unprofessional. I apologize for my lack of decorum, Your Highness. I promise it won't happen again."
"Oh pish posh," Celestia stated dismissively. "Thunder Strike, even the best royal guards are still just ponies. And ponies simply aren't meant to keep their emotions bottled up and suppressed; especially not for years at a time. If we don't let them out at least once in a while, it can have dire consequences. Both for our health, and even our sanity."
"Case in point, look what happened to me," Luna mumbled. "A mere fifty years of not being able to voice my resentments, and I got to be... bitchy."
Thunder looked at her as she spoke, before shaking his head and turning his attention back to Celestia again, the look on his face doing much to convey the fact he was trying to process things.
"Now, do you feel up to finishing your story? I'd like to hear what happened after," she stated. "This Miss Heart you mentioned, I assume she's the headmistress of the orphanage you grew up in? What exactly did she do after you broke Briar Wood's leg?"
"She was furious with us," he stated and shuddered. "None of us had ever seen her that furious before. Not at any of us at least. There was so much yelling, so, so much yelling. I don't even know who she was more furious with at the time; Briar Wood for provoking an act of violence, or me for resorting to an act of violence. We both got reprimanded and punished for what we did. She told me I was lucky that I was too young to actually be arrested for physically assaulting him like I did. And that if I didn't straighten up, I'd never get to be a Royal Guard."
"I see," Celestia replied slowly. "So let me see if I understand you correctly. While you were still a little colt, you got into a fight with another -bigger- colt who was provoking you, by going out of his way to be mean -if not cruel- to your friends. You got into trouble, got punished for what you did, and regretted your actions. Am I right so far?"
He slowly nodded in response.
"And you stayed out of trouble after that?" she asked.
"Yes, Your Highness," he stated and nodded again. "Even before Miss Heart caught us, I regretted what I did immediately after it happened. Listening to Briar Wood screaming in pain as he writhed on the ground... I learned that I don't like hurting other ponies, regardless of what the reasoning behind it might be," he explained.
"So you did something that was wrong, realized that it was wrong, regretted doing it in the first place, and never did it again," Celestia surmised. "You came to the defense of somepony who couldn't defend herself, because those who should've been defending didn't. The deed may've been distasteful, and the reasons behind it not exactly pure, but I hardly regard it as something unforgivable."
He suddenly found himself at a loss for what to say in response, ill-prepared for such a statement. Despite trying to work his mouth, no words were coming out.
"You may need time and help to get to that point for yourself, but there's absolutely no reason you can't forgive yourself for what happened all those years ago, and move on from there. Dwelling on a past that can't be changed brings its own problems," she stated.
"Then... I don't need to submit my resignation?" he asked.
"I'd prefer if you didn't," she replied.
"As would I," Luna chimed in. "And I am quite curious about what happened to Briar Wood after you broke his leg. What became of him?"
"Ah... after he got healed up? He more or less stopped being being like he was; he stopped picking on us like he used to, although he was still an annoyance at times. If I remember correctly, by the time he was old enough to leave, he got picked for an apprenticeship for an insurance company. By the time I went to the Academy, I think he was one of their salesponies," he replied.
"So by fighting him like you did, not only did you learn a valuable lesson, you may have also set him on the path of becoming a responsible member of society," Luna surmised. "I am not saying the ends justify the means, but I would say in these specific circumstances, your actions on that day did far more good than harm. Let your conscience rest for once. Your conscience and your body, Faust knows you need it more than some."
Thunder could do little more than sit there as he looked towards her, his mind trying to process everything as it unfolded like it did. A brief nod followed, but even he didn't know if it was one of understanding and acknowledging what she was saying, or if it was simply to let her know that he had heard her. Right now it was all unexplored territory and he didn't really know how to proceed.
"Thunder Strike."
This time it was Princess Celestia speaking up, bringing his attention back to her once again.
"I'd like to ask a question if you don't mind. You don't have to answer, but I admit I am quite curious," she stated softly. "Did you become a guard out of guilt over what you did growing up? To try and make up for hurting Briar Wood?"
At this, Thunder quickly shook his head in response as he found his ability to speak again.
"No, no I'd never do something as shameful and disrespectful to the organization as that, Your Highness," he explained and shook his head again. "Briar Wood had nothing to do with it. Being a Royal guard was something that I've wanted for almost as long as I can remember. It's something I've wanted ever since I first learned about the organization in the first place. I must've been... five years old at the time when I first learned about them and wanted to join them."
The first part of that response was a relief. The idea that so many years of dedicated service were out of guilt was just far too uncomfortable to think about. But the second part, that was far less expected.
"That's certainly an impressive amount of dedication for one so young. Most ponies that age are more focused on their friends and earning their cutie marks," she commented.
"I can't comment on the actions and decisions of other ponies, Your Highness. I can only speak for myself," he replied. "Being a Royal Guard has always been important to me. I applied to the Academy, literally the minute I was old enough to join up."
"Wait, you did?" Luna asked. "You went straight from the orphanage, to the academy? Is that why you were never adopted?"
"Luna, that's hardly an appropriate question to be asking," Celestia pointed out.
Luna frowned in response. "Sister, we have a guard who we set out to help because he is working himself to death. Whose first thought upon breaking his leg, was that he would have to skip breakfast to get to work on time. After having already being awake all night to write reports!
"On top of that already disturbing fact, I am besieged by the discovery that he was an orphan who never got to be adopted by anypony, and whose story suggests his entire foalhood was seemingly dominated by the overwhelming desire to join the royal guard, making him the equivalent of a child soldier in my eyes.
"I have reached the point of no longer having any fucks left to give about what may and may not appropriate anymore! I will ask whatever question I deem fit if I believe it will help!"
Celestia wouldn't vocally acknowledge the fact, but it was easy to forget just how... intimidating... Luna could be inside the dream realm when she wanted to be. That entire spiel had carried a force all its own that made it feel like a presence all in itself.
Equally disturbing was just how easily she could calm back down and act like nothing had happened just seconds ago, as she returned to her pleasant self in terms of tone and presence.
"I apologize for my outburst just now. It was entirely inappropriate, and my being frazzled by our discoveries does not excuse that," she stated. "Thunder Strike, please, help us understand. Why is this job so important to you? I know you said earlier that it was all that you have, but I do not understand the why behind that. Why was becoming a guard so important to you, to put you on this current path?"
"... If I answer that question, Your Highness, you may not like what you hear," Thunder stated slowly.
Luna shook her head in response. "We are here to help you, Thunder Strike. Your concern is respectable, but please let us worry about that matter. Let us take care of you for a change. Surely even you deserve that much consideration at least once in a while, right?"
The statement left him looking torn in the aftermath, uncertain of how exactly he should respond to the question.
"I... don't know," he slowly admitted. "I apologize, Your Highness. I'm really not accustomed to this. To... actually being treated with a sense of importance. I'm just a Guard..."
"Oh, bitte. 'Nur ein Wächter' mein königlicher esel!" Luna snorted dismissively. "Perhaps I would have believed that, had you not studied nights to learn a third language, just so that I could have somepony to talk to upon my return. No mere guard would do that, only a pony with a heart and the capacity to care about others. So please do not dismiss all that you have done during your time here as you simply being "just a guard" as it does you a great disservice."
He definitely hadn't been expecting that; certainly not the random Old Ponish out of nowhere to mock his statement and emphasize a particular point.
Slowly, he realized that this discussion wasn't going to go away simply because he wanted it to. The Princesses weren't going to let it go away. They had come here to help, to help him, and they weren't about to simply give up on the notion.
If he tried hard enough, and just sat silently, could he wait and stall them out until morning? Could he simply get by without speaking? They couldn't actually order him to speak here in his dream... could they?
But he couldn't actually bring himself to do that. A Royal Guard must always be courteous, especially to command. He couldn't just disrespect them.
Day in, day out, without fail, he'd been standing guard, patrolling the halls, safeguarding visitors and staff alike. Doing his part to ensure the proper functioning of the palace. And now here they were, leading from the front rather than from the rear and delegating duties for others to carry out in their stead.
"You may not like what you hear..." he repeated slowly and sighed as he closed his eyes and hung his head, defeated and knowing what he had to do. "When I was five years old, the orphanage was treated to a local theatre production for underprivileged foals. It was a matinee anthology, filled with a lot of different acts. But the most memorable one came in the evening when the sun had finally set, and the local weatherponies could do their part to make the effects impressive."
A weak smile wormed its way across his face as he opened his eyes again, the memory bringing him a sense of joy.
"It was a play about the Royal Guard. And at the time it had quite the impact. The ambiance, the visuals, the vocals that were being sung, the glory and heroism that was on display, all of it culminating together and leaving one particular colt awestruck by it all. I knew right then and there, that was what I wanted more than anything; to be a Royal Guard. So that's what I set out to do. Do whatever I could to actually become a Royal Guard."
The smile had already been weak to begin with, but now it was gone.
"I worked hard, Your Highness, I really did. While everypony else was more focused on things like getting adopted or earning their cutie marks, I was focusing on trying to mould myself into a pony that'd be worthy of being a member of the Royal Guard, both mentally and physically. I spent just about every minute of free time that I had at the local Town Guard division, asking them about anything that I could think of, and listening to whatever stories they'd tell me about their service. And the more I listened to their stories, the more I wanted to serve.
"They didn't really think I was cut out for the job, but they were always nice and encouraged my efforts. They showed me how to stand at attention, how to give a proper salute, how to lift my legs when I march, how to grip and thrust with a spear, how to keep my back aligned while doing pushups, that sort of stuff."
The smile had briefly returned, but it'd faded almost immediately.
"And then one day, I overheard them talking and saying how I'd never have what it took to be a Guard. That I was too small, too sickly, too stringy, too stupid, too much of a crybaby to actually make it through the academy. That they should just stop humoring me because it was cruel to give me false hope for a future that would never be."
Luna winced in response to hearing that. "I take it you disagreed with their assessment?"
"I couldn't accept the idea that their words might be true. The thought that they might be right was too painful to accept as true. So I did everything I could to ensure their words weren't true. I never went back there, and I started pushing myself harder than I'd ever pushed before, doing everything that I could to become a pony who could be the best Royal Guard possible. Not simply the best that I could be, but the best Royal Guard that anypony could ever hope to be."
Both sisters winced uncomfortably at the tale. What was left unsaid, what was implied, was too uncomfortable to think about. Somehow the fact he hadn't come right out and explicitly said what he had to do, or what he'd had to give up to accomplish his goal, just made the whole thing worse.
"And... what did it cost you to achieve that goal?" Luna hesitantly asked, fearful of what the answer might be, but also unable to not ask.
"Nothing of importance, Your Highness," he answered simply, "nothing... nothing that was of any consequence..."
"Other than your entire foalhood," Celestia surmised darkly.
"... The Royal Guard deserves ponies they can be confident in, Your Highness. They deserve ponies who they know will bring nothing short of their very best; not only to the organization itself, but to the ponies that rely on the organization being its best," he slowly stated, not really looking at either one of them at the moment as he spoke. "They deserve ponies that can live up to the standards and ideals the organization promotes. Ponies that embody what they stand for. Ponies that will put the well being of others ahead of themselves. Ponies that they can trust and be proud of..."
"Ponies such as yourself," Celestia slowly surmised as she listened.
The fact he didn't immediately confirm or deny her statement, spoke volumes that his own voice couldn't. And just further hammered the nail in for her.
"I-" she started, her breath hitching as she spoke, "I am proud of you, Thunder Strike. And I'm quite certain the Royal Guard is equally proud as well. I... can't think of a single guard who's shown as much devotion to the organization as you have."
The words hurt for her to speak. They were technically the truth, but not in the manner she'd intended them to be.
He had been so driven by his desire to be a guard, he had essentially sacrificed any chance he'd ever had of being happy in order to pursue it. Fueled by desperation, driven by spite -possibly guilt- and powered by an inability to accept the possibility that maybe he simply wasn't cut out for the job in the first place.
How hard had he had to push himself while growing up to get here? What had he been forced to give up, and what had he given up willingly in pursuit of that dream? Would he still have become a guard if he hadn't overheard them talking about him? Would he have burnt himself out and lost interest if left to his own devices? She couldn't help but think that maybe that would've been better for everypony involved.
"Ponies... ponies could learn a lot from you, and all that you went through to get to where you are today."
The statement was met with a shuddering breath being sucked in through grit teeth. But it hadn't come from her. Nor had it come from Luna either. Leaving only one other source in the room it could be coming from.
"A Guard... thinks not of themselves..."
He was no longer making an effort to look at either of them. He was making no effort to look at anything as he sat, hunched over with his head hanging low towards the ground, his eyes clenched shut tightly as he fought through shaky breaths to try and maintain his composure
"A-A Guard doesn't seek r-r-recognition for the work that they do..."
It was a losing battle he was fighting. But ever the dutiful guard, he wasn't going to surrender, even as the words became more strangulated through frantic breaths, as little droplets of water started to fall to the ground beneath him.
"A Guard d-d-doesn't cry, n-no matter what! A Guard... a-a Guard-"
"A Guard is still just a pony, and deserves the same love and respect as any other pony," Celestia interrupted as she gently placed a hoof on his wither. "I meant what I said earlier, Thunder Strike. I am proud of you, and all that you overcame to be here today."
She was also sorry for what he had to experience while growing up. But right now that wasn't what was important. There would be plenty of time to hash that out later. Right now he was the one in need of strength and calm. And she was more than willing to provide that as he latched onto her for dear life.
The first time around he had just barely managed to walk himself back from the breach and maintain his composure, as he fought with every fiber of his being to resist doing what he desperately needed to do.
This time around, as he clung to her and buried his face in her chest fluff, that was no longer an option as the dam finally burst under the strain of what it was holding back, and a choked out sob escaped.
Silently, she wrapped her forelegs around his quaking, quivering frame once again, holding him close as what had to be the better part of at last two long decades worth of pain were finally allowed to escape.
Celestia sat at her desk, trying to focus on the paperwork currently before her, and not feel a sense of being overwhelmed by the height of the stack that sat on her desk in the inbox.
This wasn't the first time she'd found herself in such a position. And she knew that it wouldn't be the last either. But with the subject at hoof with this particular paperwork, she hoped this was the last time she'd ever have to run across this.
All of the various piece of paperwork relating to Thunder Strike's employment at the palace was laid out before her on the desk, painting a very depressing picture to behold. And in the wake of last night's discoveries relating to him, it was all the more depressing to seen laid out before her like it currently was.
All of it had been seen in the course of their initial investigation in the wake of his collapse, and the discoveries made had been disturbing. But they had been lacking vital context the first time around, and weren't able to comprehend the full scope of the matter.
Seven and a half years of service. Two thousand seven hundred and forty continuous days of work without interruption. All of it spent without any vacation time being taken. Nor any sick days. Nor any weekends, holidays, unit picnics, or even birthdays when every staff member was free to have the day off with pay, no questions asked.
That in itself should've stuck out sooner into the investigation than it had, but at the time it hadn't. An oversight on their part, and one there was no excuse for. But what else was uncovered and now seeing the light of day was almost as unsettling. In those same seven and a half years, he had never received a piece of mail at mail call. No letters, no packages, apparently not even a piece of junk mail with his name on it. Outgoing mail wasn't anymore promising in comparison.
Visitor logs were practically a ghost town all in their own, showing that nopony had ever come to the palace for the purpose of meeting with him. And unless somepony on staff had forgotten to log it into the official records, he'd only ever once signed out when leaving the palace near the start of his time here. And she seriously doubted he'd simply forgotten to, as he made sure to sign back in yesterday when he'd returned from the hospital.
His expense account showed at least some signs of life. But it consisted entirely of the occasional purchase of those dreadful five-hour energy shots available in the palace commissary; likely to help keep himself awake and powered through those insane thirty-two -and sometimes even forty- hour sessions he sometimes pulled.
And unless there was a paperwork snafu somewhere that hadn't yet been uncovered, a lost document that hadn't been accounted for, he had no known address of residence listed in this file for off-site housing. For all intents and purposes he lived in the palace barracks.
What she didn't understand about it all, was how? How had he gotten so far into his career without anypony ever noticing the fact that he had nothing and nopony other than his career?
Were they truly so inattentive that he'd simply slipped through the cracks, simply because he was so outstanding at not being outstanding, and could easily go unnoticed? She hated the thought of that actually being a possibility. Because if it could happen with one guard, how many others were in a similar predicament?
Even now, she had aides combing through all the staff records to see if there was anything to indicate similar work patterns in need of being addressed. But there were hundreds of ponies who worked at the palace, and it could take quite a while for everything to be analyzed.
But before she could stew for too long on her possible failings as a commander, the door to her office opened as her Raven poked her head inside.
"Your Highness, Lieutenant Strike is here to see you," she announced. "Again."
The first time had somewhat been expected. But she honestly hadn't thought to expect Thunder to make an appearance again so soon.
"Send him in," she replied
Raven nodded in response and opened the door further before ducking out of the way, standing aside to let the stallion slowly step into the room.
Celestia observed his entry as he slowly stepped inside. And how, even after everything he'd been through so far, he still carried himself with as much pride and discipline in his presentation as ever. Even his salute was nothing less than crisp and professional.
"I've come to apologize for my unprofessional behavior and conduct last night, Your Highness," he stated as he set his hoof back down on the ground, not even waiting for her to greet him in return. "I have no excuse for my actions."
She could already tell this was going to be a long day.
"Thunder Strike," she started softly yet also firm, "please have a seat."
He looked at her, unsure of exactly how to respond, but moved to sit down regardless. Much to her relief, he opted for the chair in front of the desk rather than making use of the floor like he'd attempted last night. At least that was looking up.
"You don't have anything to apologize for, Thunder Strike," she stated as she slowly shook her head. "I understand that you may feel otherwise, that you may believe some sort of transgression was committed somehow. But the simple truth of the matter is that's simply not the case."
"Your Highness, I..." he started slowly, trying to think of what to say in response. "I disobeyed your orders when I sleepwalked my way back onto duty even after you said no to my return. I disgraced my uniform and my position as a Royal Guard in front of both you and Princess Luna. There's... there's no excuse for what I did," he insisted.
It was going to be a long, long day indeed.
"If I recall correctly, you were asleep at the time everything happened; hence why it's called sleepwalking and not simply walking," she pointed out. "I'm not about to punish somepony for something they did while asleep and unable to control their actions. Especially not when that pony was simply trying to perform his sworn duties. If anypony should be apologizing, it should be me to you."
Looking at him in response was uncomfortable. The look on his face did much to convey the fact he was confused by what she'd just said, as if the very notion had never even been considered by him before, and he was trying to think of how to comprehend this development. He honestly looked like he was at risk of falling off of his chair.
"I... don't understand, Your Highness," he admitted uneasily.
"You want to blame yourself for not being able to live up to your standard of what a Royal Guard should be, even when that standard is ultimately impossible for anypony to achieve; I don't know if even I could do it."
The look on his face was one of utter disbelief at the words he'd just heard. "You-"
"Contrary to popular belief, we're not perpetual motion machines. I'm sure an alicorn could theoretically weather the strain better than others, but even we have our limits and would eventually break from trying to bear the burden you've set for yourself. It might take a while longer, but it would happen regardless. How you've lasted as long as you have, without taking any illicit substances to help keep yourself running, is both a mystery and nothing short of amazing.
"I can't very well fault you for having unrealistic goals, as everypony has those. I can't exactly blame the Royal Guard for existing and being what captivated you at such an early age. And I certainly can't blame the local theatre production that put on the play you watched. The only one left to assign any blame to is myself."
"... I don't understand, Your Highness. How can you be at fault?"
"The same way you could be at fault for not being able to live up to your own unattainable standards, even when trying to do just that was tearing your body apart at the seams," she replied. "The Royal Guard is my organization, and it was my organization that you became enamored with at such a young age so many years ago. So enamored, you couldn't bear the thought of not being a part of it, and spent the majority of your foalhood desperately trying to make yourself into a pony you thought would be worthy of joining them. The way I see the matter, that makes me guilty in turn. Wouldn't you agree?"
The look of shock and confusion he was wearing was gone, and he was already shaking his head in disagreement, looking ready to object to her evaluation. But she wasn't done just yet.
"I listened as you spoke, Thunder Strike. And I've seen your service record for myself," she continued as she gestured to the papers in front of her. "You were so devoted to the idea of being a Royal Guard, you did everything in your power to make yourself worthy of being one. I can't even imagine what that had to entail. I can only assume that, once you finally reached that point, you started pushing yourself farther and further, just to make sure you were good enough.
"Yours is not the typical sort of service record. Yours is dedication and focus incarnate. You sacrificed everything for that one goal, that one desire, and you did so without a second thought. What could've been was essentially stolen from you, because you were so enamored with my organization. Luna really was right last night about you essentially being a child soldier; a child soldier that I technically created myself without even realizing it. Wouldn't you say that makes me just as guilty, as if I'd marched into that orphanage and drafting you into service when you were still five years old?"
"No, Your Highness," he stated as he finally found his voice.
"Oh no? And why not?" she asked him.
"Because it was my-" he started, but paused.
She observed him as he sat there, the look on his face and the focus of his eyes slowly shifting as he tried to think of how to respond.
"You don't actually believe what you're saying."
It was a statement, not a question as he looked at her.
"You're using yourself as bait, because you want me to say something specific to explain why you're not at fault for my actions and decisions. So that you can turn around and use the logic of my own argument to try and make me understand that I'm not at fault either, even though I feel like I am," he surmised.
Celestia didn't say anything at first. But she slowly smiled in response.
"I want to say I'm impressed. But that might come off as implying your work is usually substandard," she stated. "You figuring it out as fast as you did certainly saves me some time and steps, though."
"It doesn't change the fact that I still feel like a failure to the Royal Guard, Your Highness," he stated and uneasily looked down towards the floor. "Neither the organization, nor you, deserve anything less than the absolute best that I can offer. But no matter what I do, no matter how many hours I may log, or how much I try to improve myself, it never feels like I'm doing enough to meet that standard of performance. I'm always left feeling like I'm doing a disservice to the fine mares and stallions who serve, who see it as a family tradition, because I can't pull my own weight.
"The entire time I was in the hospital, laying flat on my back and unable to move because of the condition I was in, all I could do was think about how I should be working. Think about how somepony else was having to take my shift because I wasn't there to do it myself. Feel like I was a burden by being unable to pull my own weight, and compromising the integrity of the Guard at the palace because they had to compensate for my absence. Worry about how I was going to make up for everything. Resenting my own physical weakness that led me to collapsing and forcing the others to abandon their posts and search the palace for me. Vowing that the moment I was discharged I would push myself harder than ever before to make up for my weakness..."
Celestia really wasn't liking where this was going.
"Your Highness, when I came to see you today, I had every intent of asking again if I could go back to work, because I need to prove my worth. Because being a Royal Guard is the only thing in my life that I actually have," he admitted as he slowly raised his head again to look back at her.
And as he did, she could swear she saw the traces of tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
"Being informed that even an alicorn would break under the burden I've been trying to live up to, was something that I couldn't have predicted. And now I don't know how to respond. What-" he paused as he took a shuddering breath, "what am I supposed to do?"
"Well, if you're asking for advice, I'd suggest starting with not being so unforgivingly hard on yourself," Celestia suggested. "You could extend to yourself, the same courtesy you do the other guards that work here. You don't treat them like they're failures for not keeping pace with your work ethic. Don't you think that you deserve the same degree of consideration?"
Thunder looked at her, uncertainty playing out on his face as he slowly looked back down again.
"Part of me wants to say yes, Your Highness," he admitted. "And another part of me just... can't. Not even after everything you just said about unreasonable work standards. Even just contemplating the idea, makes me feel like I'm doing something disrespectful to the fine ponies that came before me. Like I'm... making a mockery of those that made the organization what it is..."
Celestia wanted to sigh. She supposed what she was seeing now was better than where they were last night, but at the moment it didn't really feel like that. The veneer he'd crafted for himself had cracked enough to allow the pony beneath it to at least be seen. But there was still work that needed to be done.
"Like you're trying to live up to their image," she surmised.
His only response was a simple, brief nod.
"I know just how hard it can be to do something like that, Thunder Strike. I know better than anypony what that strain is like. I didn't exactly start out as Princess material myself, but had to grow into that role over time," she admitted. "I'm immortal and even I feel like I'm being crushed by the strain, day in and day out. I can't imagine how hard it must be on you to try to be doing the same."
This time he had no response to offer up.
"Please don't misunderstand. There's nothing wrong with a pony striving to embody certain ideals in an effort to better themselves. But there is a problem when those ideals turn out to be unattainable standards," she pointed out. "And there's certainly a problem when attempting to embody these standards, leaves a guard so thoroughly convinced he can't even ask a nurse for a simple hug in a moment of being sick and miserable, because he's worried it might constitute him taking a bribe."
The look on his face right now was one of fear, as he sharply inhaled through his nostrils at her words, because his lips were far too pursed to let any air through.
"... You knew about that?" he asked, his voice practically cracking in the process.
"I did," she confirmed, "and I'm so sorry you ever had to believe that."
"Regulations forbid fraternization between staff members," he offered up weakly in response.
The urge on Celestia's part to sigh and shake her head was growing, and needed to be subdued and ignored. Now wasn't the time or place for that.
She had no doubt that Thunder had committed the various regulations to memory that went into being a guard and working at the palace. But he was obviously lacking the context behind them, if he thought getting hugged could be counted as fraternization. Just what sort of rigid, unforgiving standard of self-conduct had he been holding himself to all this time?
"The Royal Guard... needs more than I can possibly give it..."
The statement had been so soft, so un-presumptuous, she wasn't entirely certain if she'd actually heard it for herself as he kept his head lowered, making it difficult to see if he'd even moved his mouth at the time.
"I shouldn't even be saying this," he mumbled, "you have a kingdom to run, and I'm monopolizing your time in a wholly unprofessional manner like a petulant foal. I apolo-"
"Thunder Strike," she spoke up, "one of my ponies is in need right now. And part of being a good Princess, or even a good guard, is making time for those in need, even if others would say they're too small to be of any importance. Even diplomats have to wait their turn. And I'd be hard pressed to find a request for funding in this pile of paperwork, that's dependent on being read over twenty minutes sooner."
"I'm scared Your Highness," he admitted bluntly. Far more bluntly than she'd expected him to, and with far less prompting. "I'm scared and I don't know what to do anymore. And I hate having to admit that fact, but I don't have any choice in this matter. Before I broke my leg the other day, everything was fine, and I knew what I was doing. And in the last twenty-four hours everything has changed, and I'm still trying to catch up to it all.
"My entire life was focused solely on becoming a Royal Guard, and now I can't do that job because I'm not physically fit for even standing watch for a few hours. I had to be escorted to turn in my armor after waking up in another pony's bed, because I couldn't be trusted to not put it back on and slip off to do the morning shift like I did last night. All I can think about is how I should be working right now, and I don't know what to do with myself. Your Highness... what am I supposed to do?"
She listened as he spoke. And she listened closer as he tried to keep his composure and not panic while speaking.
"There are a lot of things that I could say, a lot of pieces of advice that I could give, but I can't guarantee you'll like any of them," she warned. She then waited for him to acknowledge before proceeding further. "In my professional opinion, you should take a few days off from work, and focus on taking care of yourself. You still have residual healing magic in your body trying to fix all the damage you've taken. Let it do its job, before worrying about your job and anypony else."
"Then... what should I do, Your Highness?" he asked. "This is all very new to me, and I don't know how to proceed."
"I'm afraid I can't give you a definitive answer to that question, Thunder Strike. All I can do is advise rest, recuperation, and relaxation if at all possible," she replied, wishing she had something more substantial to offer up. Just one look at him told her he was like a fish out of water right now. "Maybe see about spending some time with your friends, that's always helpful."
"My... friends? I don't have any friends, Your Highness."
The statement was so simple, so straightforward, so unexpected, it immediately brought her attention back to him before it could even leave.
"I'm sorry, what now?" she asked, not sure she'd heard him right. "You don't? What about the other guards you work with? What about the ones you're always pitching in to help out. Aren't any of them your friends?"
He slowly shook his head in response. "We're all just coworkers, Your Highness, not friends."
She knew his statement was wrong. The question was whether or not he knew if his statement was wrong.
Was his definition of "fraternization" truly so broad and all-encompassing, that it didn't even allow him room for interacting with his fellow guards in a manner that wasn't directly related to their work?
"I'm sorry to hear that," she replied softly. "Well, regardless, I'm certain they'd be happy to spend time with you if you simply asked them, even if they aren't your friends."
"I'll... do what I can, Your Highness," he stated, replying as best he could as he nodded. "May I... ask a couple of questions before I go?"
"Of course."
"Ever since I fell in the shower, I've been receiving a lot of attention, and a lot of concern for my well being. I honestly don't remember ever being subject to this much focus. This morning alone the kitchen staff made me a stack of golden brown waffles, drizzled in butter with a side of strawberries for breakfast. I've received several offers to help with brushing my coat. My armor was being kept cleaned and polished while I was away and couldn't tend to it myself. And you've taken time out of your busy schedule to not just help me, but to also listen as I talk.
"What I don't understand is why? I'm just a single, unimportant pony, so what exactly makes me so important, that I warrant all of this consideration from everypony? Even when taking my Royal Guard status into account, I just can't see why I'd be on the receiving end of such treatment."
This wasn't the sort of question she'd expected to hear. Nor one she was exactly ready to answer. What was the best way to go about explaining the concept of self worth to a pony, who based his entire sense of worth on his ability to do his job?
"Because you are important, Thunder Strike. Even if you don't see it for yourself, the others around you certainly do," she answered as best the could.
As much as she'd like it if he understood her position, it just wasn't something that she could help him with. For better or worse, he was going to need to come to terms with his own sense of self-worth, and do so on his own terms, in order for him to truly understand what others did. All any of them could do was try and point him in the right direction, and hope for the best.
And from the sound of it, they had a lot of work to do, in order to get him pointed in that direction.
"Do you have any other questions?"
"Can a pony ever stop believing themselves to be nothing but a worthless failure for not being able to meet their own expectations, Your Highness? Feeling like you're not trying hard enough? Like you're not doing enough, even after you've torn your body apart from trying to push harder? Does it ever go away?"
"I want to believe that it is possible," she admitted, "maybe one day we'll both be able to experience it for ourselves."
"Are you sure you don't want any help with that? I could carry it for you if you'd like."
Carrying a guest's luggage wasn't exactly in Shammy's job description as a palace maid. But then again Thunder Strike wasn't really a guest here. He was just as much as staff member and coworker as anypony else was. So it was really just an offer of help from one friend to another.
"A Royal Guard doesn't ask somepony to do for them what they're unwilling to do themselves, or is otherwise able to do on their own," he replied simply, his wooden hooflocker held aloft in his cobalt blue magical aura as he followed her.
"I suppose not," she replied, figuring that was as far as the discussion was going to go.
And honestly she hadn't been all too keen on the idea of trying to balance that box on her back the entire way to where they were going. Although its wood structure would still be preferable to trying to carry one of those diamond plate steel boxes that some staff members were using for storage purposes.
That was more or less the sum total of their conversation as they walked along. But that wasn't really surprising, given what she knew about him. He was a pony who was more often seen rather than heard, only really ever speaking up if he had something that he thought was important enough to say.
But if he didn't feel up to having a conversation right now, it really wasn't her place to pry. Especially not now as they were just about at their destination.
"This is it, your new quarters," she said as she withdrew a key from the pocket of her apron to undo the lock, before turning the knob to swing the door open and let him step inside.
He moved past her with ease, never even coming close to brushing against her with either his frame or the locker in his field, as he stepped inside and looked around.
"These are my new quarters?" he asked uncertainly as he turned back around to face her. "There must be some sort of mistake."
Shammy tilted her head to the side, uncertain of what he was saying. This had been the assigned room, the key she'd been given wouldn't work in any other locks, even if the numbered tag on it had been mislabeled.
Curiously, she stepped inside and looked around, trying to see whatever it was that he was seeing, that led him to believe there was a problem.
"Are they not to your liking?" she asked, all the while glancing at the bed, the windows, and everything else that surrounded them.
"This room is far too extravagant for one pony like myself," he stated simply.
Curiously, Shammy looked around the room once again, hoping the elaboration would help her understand his statement a bit better. This was a very standard, very run of the mill -by Canterlot standards- guest room that he'd been moved to, and far from being one the most extravagant of locations to be found in the palace.
If he really wanted extravagant he should see some of the VIP suites in the palace. The stories she'd heard from others about them and their supposedly gold-tiled floors really had to be a sight to behold.
Before he'd spoken up, she was just about to say she was certain they could arrange for something better for him, but now she was glad she hadn't gotten quite that far.
"This room is enormous; too enormous for a single pony to utilize on their own. If it had a kitchen it could easily be a complete apartment. The windows are huge, and with this vantage point one can see for miles with ease. Even the bed is excessive; there's easily room for five or six ponies all at once," he continued.
She blinked at that, just a hint of blush tinging its way through her cheeks at his words. "Five or six? Er, Lieutenant, aren't you being just a bit presumptuous there?"
Thunder shook his head in response. "No, I'm quite certain six Royal Guards could easily sleep in this bed without bumping into each other. Five if one of them was Lieutenant Wall."
"Oh. I thought that you meant... er, never mind what I thought," she said in a mumble and decided to quickly change the subject. "I can assure you, this is the standard guest room, equipped with all the same amenities and facilities as numerous others just like it. With room service you could easily stay in here for a month without ever having to leave for anything."
"And... this is where I'm staying while I recover?" he asked her, still sounding like he didn't believe it for himself.
"If that's what Princess Celestia said. You'll have to ask her for the details yourself. Really, I was just asked to bring you here," she explained. "Do you need any help unpacking or otherwise getting settled in?"
He shook his head in response. "I can tend to that myself. What I need most right now is information. There's still a lot going on here that I don't properly understand. Among other things, what exactly did I do to warrant such treatment and consideration? Why exactly am I being treated like I'm suddenly an important pony?" he asked.
"... Lieutenant," she started slowly as she tried to find her words, "all of this is just... basic equine decency. You're being shown the same level of care and consideration and courtesy as anypony else would be shown in your circumstances. Surely you don't believe that you deserve anything less than that, do you?"
The fact that he didn't immediately respond to the question was concerning. And with each second that passed in silence, the more concerning it became to witness.
"... No. I don't believe that," he finally replied and slowly shook his head as he looked at her again. "I'm just... not accustomed to feeling like... all of this," he paused as he gestured around the room. "It's like I just woke up one day, and found that while I was unconscious I'd been bestowed with a newfound level of importance that I've neither had the opportunity to realize, nor to even to comprehend for myself.
"I have ponies noticing me as I walk down the halls now. They'll just stop what they're doing and actually look in my direction like they think I'm somepony special. I'll just be walking along and they'll come up to me and ask me questions about how I'm doing. Ask me if I need help with anything. Ask if they can get me anything. And I just don't... understand why. What... what changed after I fell in the shower, to warrant all of this?" he asked.
Shammy wasn't certain how to respond to the question. But she knew that she had to at least say something to him. He looked... vulnerable right now, and it was really unsettling to just watch him as he stood there, looking lost and confused about what it was like to be treated like an actual pony.
So, right or wrong, she had to at least try. She owed him at least that much.
"Lieutenant," she started, but stopped and corrected herself. "Thunder Strike. For... for better or worse, a lot of ponies here regarded your service and visible presence like the sunrise itself; a universal constant they know is going to happen, regardless of what the day brings. Rain or shine, holiday or weekend, you were always there. Doing your duty before some clocked in, and long after others clocked out. I'm... ashamed to say that I was one of them. I'm really sorry about that, by the way. So when you didn't show up for work the other day, it didn't take long for ponies to know something had to be wrong for you to break your routine like you did."
He actually flinched at her words. That hadn't been expected. And now she was starting to question whether she was saying the wrong thing.
"After you were found that morning, and word got 'round about how bad you really were and how you got in that state in the first place, a lot of ponies got worried; scared even. And after they got scared, they started seeing you more as the pony that you actually are, and less as the guard you've tried to make yourself be seen as. More flesh and blood, and less tempered steel and viridium alloy."
This really wasn't her area of expertise, and all she could do was hope for the best that she was giving an accurate enough explanation of everything. She mopped floors and dusted light fixtures, she didn't discuss matters relating to the field of psychology like she was a licensed therapist!
But at the same time, what could she really do otherwise? He'd asked for help, and he'd asked her for help. All she could do was hope to give him a reasonably accurate overview of everything that'd happened the past few days, in the hope he'd understand where she was coming from.
Although that was a very tall order, seeing as how he seemed confused and unsure of how to respond to the concept of ponies treating him like he actually was an individual just like the rest of them. What exactly was the best way to go about explaining to somepony, a concept that so many others had been raised with since birth, and understood on an unspoken, instinctual level?
"The entire time I've been working here at the palace, I've yet to speak with a pony who's ever had anything bad to say about you. And believe me, gossip spreads like the common cold, so somepony would've heard something by now if it was out there. As far as anypony has said, you've been nothing but polite, courteous, and helpful to others. You're simply getting back what you've been giving out in your time here; everypony is treating you like you've treated them. You get out what you put in. Does that make sense?" she asked him.
"In theory," he slowly acknowledged as he finally set his hooflocker down on the carpeted floor of the room. "But a Royal Guard is nothing if not courteous to those around them. What exactly makes me so special in this case, compared to all the other Royal Guards here at the palace?"
"The fact that you are the only one who almost died while doing your job," she shot right back. Did he really not understand that part?
He looked like he was about to say something, possibly some recitation of some guard tenet he was so big on presenting to justify his vision of what a royal guard should strive to be. But nothing came out and the slight tensing he'd done just previously stopped.
She'd seen that sort of look before, when the cleaning staff would get into disputes about who would take what shift and perform what duty.
"Any one of us could die at any minute in the performance of our duties," he replied softly. "Everypony who goes to the Academy is made aware of this fact, to weed out those who lack commitment. Aware of the fact that we may be required to lay down our lives in the performance of our duties to others."
"I get that," she replied and nodded. "And I respect anypony who has that level of commitment. But that's only in the case of things like foalnapping, assassinations, and villain incursions, right? That doesn't mean you have to run your body into the ground like you've been doing, does it?" she asked.
Another stretch of him responding by being silent. The fact he even had to consider what the answer to the question was, was concerning.
"... No. It doesn't..." he eventually replied after a stretch that was far too long for her own comfort.
"Okay, so... help me out? Please? From one staff member to another, why do you do it? I mean, if you don't mind my asking? Why do you insist on working so much harder than anypony else when you don't have to?"
"... The only ponies I've ever told are Her Highness and her sister. If... if I tell you, I need you to keep this out of the gossip pool. This can't go any further than you, and can't leave this room."
The sudden shift in tone had caught Shammy off guard, leaving her surprised and slowly nodding in response as curiosity took over hard.
"I promise."
He glanced to his left, and she followed along as he glanced to his right, as if they were about to suddenly be invaded by a nosy interloper. And then he reached out with his magic and slowly shut the door behind them. Only then, only once the latch had been heard securing, and he was certain they were alone, did he turn back to her.
"There are a number of ponies serving here in the Palace Division of the Royal Guard that have families. Families that need just as much of their attention as their duties require of them. I'm not one of them. I don't have any family that has to be taken into account for managing my time. No parents, no siblings, no offspring, not even a pet. The reason that I can work more hours than others, is simply because I have more hours than others, that don't have to be set aside for maintaining other engagements and responsibilities," he explained, his voice soft as he spoke as if what he was sharing with her was a matter of national security itself.
This wasn't the sort of thing she'd been expecting him to be telling her. Not with all the secrecy he was insisting upon.
But before she even had the chance to respond and share her opinion on the matter, he was already talking again.
"The more overtime that I can pull and work, the less there is for other ponies to be saddled with. The more shifts that I can take and cover, the more time that other ponies who do have families can share with them, that they wouldn't otherwise be able to," he explained.
She didn't want to admit it, but it took longer than she was comfortable with to decipher and understand what he was saying.
"You're... working yourself like a dog, so other guards can spend more time with their families?" she asked.
Again, he didn't immediately respond.
"When I first came to the palace to work as a Royal Guard, I thought the work I'd be doing here would be like what we were trained for at the Academy. But then I learned that wasn't the case, and the Academy was a much harsher environment to experience. How to walk, how to stand, how to salute in a crisp enough manner, how to keep your back aligned for pushups, how to perform calisthenics, how to speak loud enough for the Drill Instructor to hear you... none of that applied here.
"It took me a long time to understand that... Her Highness is content with the quality of our work, so long as we're simply doing our best, and doesn't demand that we adhere ourselves to the same rigid, unforgiving standards that were drilled into us at the Academy. That a certain amount of leeway is permissible in our conduct so long as we remain professional, and do our jobs to a satisfactory degree. That... very few ponies actually care about who pulls what shift, and whether or not the name of the Guard who pulls the shift corresponds with the name on the time card that's stamped, so long as the work is shown as actually being done."
"... Why?" she asked, it being the only question she actually could get out in response to what she'd just heard.
"... Like I said, any one of us could die at any moment in the performance of our duties. Any one of us could be required to throw ourselves in front of a spear intended for royalty and take the blow intended for them. Be required to leave behind everything we have because our duty demands it of us. Leave behind everypony because our duty demands it of us. Leave behind foals far too young to understand that... that their parents loved them even if they weren't there all the time..."
He actually had to pause his explanation to take a breath to steady himself.
"What's a few hours out of my time, if it means some foal will get one more day with their parents that they might not get otherwise?"
Out of any number of possible explanations Shammy could've received to justify Thunder's insane work ethic, all of the speculation that went on behind the scenes to try and make sense of the stallion, this definitely wasn't one of the ones she'd anticipated hearing.
Without a word, she crossed the short distance between them, and proceeded to pull him into a hug. A very tight, very vigorous hug with both forelegs and wings.
"That's one of the nicest things I've ever heard," she stated, before pulling back to look him in the eyes. "But, I don't understand, why don't you want the other guards to know? If they knew they might be able to pitch in and help out. You wouldn't have to be doing it all on your own-"
"You were kind enough to answer my question, it was only right for me to do the same in turn. I didn't tell you about it to get anything in return," he stated simply. "A Royal Guard doesn't seek recognition for the work that they do. We're not glory hounds. If a Guard receives recognition, then it's because they've done something to warrant being recognized for their service in the first place.
"Increased attention just brings more problems. Just knowing that other staff members are paying closer attention to me, and actually noticing me like they are, is enough to make me feel uncomfortable. It's happening for all the wrong reasons, because I'm in a compromised state that's making me a liability. I'd rather go back to being unnoticed in the background as just another Royal Guard."
Shammy really wasn't liking the direction this whole conversation was taking. And she didn't have anypony but herself to blame for it. If she hadn't poked like she had, then she wouldn't know what she currently knew. Maybe that was why he asked her to not let others know? So that they didn't have to feel what she was feeling right now?
"Alright," she sighed and nodded, "I won't tell anypony. But I do have another question. The guards you've been pulling duty for so they can spend more time with their families? What's going to happen to them if you suddenly drop dead from exhaustion and can't cover for them anymore?"
"I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. "Making it all the more important that I get back onto duty as fast as I can."
She had to resist the urge to groan in response. He really was hopeless.
Hopeless, and stubborn like a mule.
Hopeless, stubborn, and with a heart that was bigger than his brain and stronger than his common sense.
"Alright then. I guess I'd better let you get settled in, if you're going to recover enough to get back to work," she said as she finally let him go and passed him the room key. "Will you be eating with the others, or would you prefer your meals brought here?"
The look on his face did much to suggest he'd never even contemplated the idea before, leaving him nearly dropping his key as he stood there.
"Why would I... be eating in here instead of the mess hall?" he asked.
"On second thought, never mind. It's not important," she stated, figuring it just wasn't worth the effort of getting into a discussion about room service if he wasn't familiar with its point on his own. "Anyway, I'll see you later."
And just like that, she departed from the room, leaving Thunder alone as the door closed behind her.
"So then. How exactly does a pony go about relaxing?" he asked himself.
Glancing around the room again revealed nothing that might give him an indication of holding the answer to the presented question.
He tried to think, tried to recall some detail that might hold the solution he was looking for. But nothing like this had ever come up during his time at the Academy. There had been no classes on what a pony was supposed to do when it came to the matter of relaxation. He was going to need to figure this one out on his own.
"I'll check the palace library and see what I can find there," he told himself. "Maybe there's a book on the subject that I can read and research."
I hope this letter finds you and your friends well.
I also hope that you might be able to help me with a bit of a problem I find myself facing, and am uncertain of how to address.
It was recently brought to our attention that one of our palace guards has been maintaining an unhealthy, obsessive work schedule for far longer than anypony would believe to be wise or acceptable; a fact I'm sorry to say we didn't discover until after he'd collapsed in the showers with a broken leg while getting ready for the morning shift, after having already been awake and working for twenty-four hours the day previously.
Once we learned that his condition stemmed from overworking rather than being attacked by a potential villain, a careful audit of palace records was performed in search of answers. And after finding what we did, I'm honestly surprised that he's still alive. In the seven and a half years he's been employed as a royal guard, he's logged two thousand, seven hundred and forty days without ever taking a day off for any reason.
If he were merely working a single eight hour shift each day it would be one thing. But with all of the overtime he's recorded as having logged, that amounts to twenty-nine thousand, six hundred and forty hours he's spent on the job. And what little time he has to himself that isn't otherwise occupied with working his own shift, is primarily dominated by either covering for other guards, or working to improve himself in an effort to perform his job better. The only time not dedicated to his job appears limited to when he's eating and sleeping.
As it is, I'm the only pony at the palace currently logging more time on the job than he is.
I tried speaking with him once he was released from the hospital, to try and help him understand just how dangerous his work schedule was, and just how badly it could negatively impact his health and overall wellbeing. But no matter what I said to him, even when I told him he'd nearly died from sheer exhaustion, he was entirely unmoved and simply expressed a desire to go back to work yet again. It's as if he honestly believed the sum total of his worth as a pony begins and ends at his service.
In a way he reminds me a lot of you, when you were just a little filly attending my school, and always dedicated to doing your very best; often to the point of losing sleep in the pursuit of studying so you'd never be caught off guard by a pop quiz.
But whereas you at least had the support of your family while growing up, ensuring that you were never truly alone, he had no such benefit while growing up and had to rely solely on his own strength in pursuit of his goal of becoming a royal guard.
I'm worried the years of isolation he experienced while growing up may have done more psychological harm than anypony truly realizes. He spent his formative years learning how to be a guard, and I honestly don't think he knows how to be anything but a guard. In the times that we've talked since his accident, he's struggled to understand that his worth as a pony isn't contingent upon the quality of his service as a guard, and he seems utterly incapable of grasping the notion that his fellow guards see him as a friend, rather than a coworker that's easily replaced.
I've tried explaining to him just how important it is to properly rest and recover from what he experienced, but he's been as receptive to the message as you were when I first tried to tell you just how important friends were. He refuses to accept any downtime that would take him away from performing his duties, to the point he even sleepwalked his way onto the night shift. Even his dreams offer him no refuge from his unrelenting work ethic, as they consist of him working even more.
If he doesn't stop and find some way to learn how to relax, one day he's going to drop dead from exhaustion, and none of us can seem to get him to care about that. I'm honestly afraid one day we're going to find him dead at his post, and still standing at attention from muscle memory alone.
If I knew that he was genuinely happy being a guard it would be one thing. But this isn't happiness, this is obsession. He never had a chance to truly live and experience what others take for granted, because he stopped being a pony when he was five years old and focused exclusively on becoming a royal guard. He sacrificed everything he could've had in pursuit of a single goal, and that goal is slowly killing him. And the most painful part of it all, is the simple fact that he just doesn't care.
Frankly I'm at a loss on just what to do in this matter. Can you and your friends suggest anything that might help him?
Signed, Celestia
Twilight slowly looked up from the letter as she concluded reading its contents out loud.
"So you can see why I asked you all to come over," she explained.
All around the main room of the library, her friends looked on uncomfortably in silence, each of them trying to process what they'd just heard.
Understandably, even to her, they looked rather horrified by it all. She was quite certain she'd had the same look on her face the first time she'd read through the letter this afternoon.
"So... what exactly are we supposed to do?" Rainbow Dash asked, breaking up the silence that was in the room. "I mean, sure, we've saved the world a couple of times. But that was from things like mad tyrants and whatnot. We had the Elements of Harmony and backup on our side every time. But this? Isn't this more like a psychiatrist sort of problem?"
"I'm sorry, Darling, but I do believe I must agree with Rainbow Dash on this matter," Rarity chimed in as she looked towards Twilight. "I just don't see how we can be of any help in this particular matter. I understand that Princess Celestia is concerned and all, but this isn't something we have any experience in."
"No? But, what about the time Applejack thought she could harvest all of Sweet Apple Acres by herself and needed our help?" Fluttershy asked. "Isn't that sort of like this?"
Rarity simply shook her head. "I don't believe so, no. What Applejack tried to do, while not the wisest course of action, was at least possible in theory. If not for time constraints that forced her to work so much longer and harder than normal, it could've technically been done. If she allowed time for proper rest, she could've potentially picked the orchards bare by herself."
Applejack's retort died in her throat at Rarity's words. At least she understood.
"This is an entirely different matter from that. We've all been around each other for long enough to have at least some understanding of each other's nuances and quirks. We can, at least in some circumstances, get a read on each other and know when one of us needs a helping. We were in close enough proximity to observe Applejack and have an idea of how she was faring, so we could step in before it was too late.
"This isn't like that at all. We don't know anything about this guard. We can't just translate an appropriate response for one workaholic over to another like they're identical. We'd need to get to know him, understand what makes him tick on an individual level, be close enough to observe him over the course of his day. We'd-" Rarity suddenly paused mid-sentence, the look on her face as if she'd realized the answer to the question had just presented itself to them.
"What is it, Rarity?" Twilight asked curiously.
"It just occurred to me, that if Princess Celestia wants us to help this guard, we'd need him here with us in Ponyville," she explained. "Perhaps what the dear needs most is a simple vacation. Some time away from the palace, away from anything he could associate with his work, so that he's free to just relax and unwind," she suggested.
"A vacation? Rar', Ah know jus' how important time off can be fer a pony. But isn' that jus' a bit of a stretch? Thinkin' all this feller needs is a vacation?" Applejack asked skeptically.
"Perhaps, if I was saying it was all that he needed, which I'm not," Rarity pointed out, shaking her head as she did. "No, I don't believe it's all that he needs, but I do believe that it's something he needs. Possibly the first of many somethings that he's been denying himself."
"Ooh! Ooh!" Pinkie bounced excitedly, eager to be heard. "We can throw him a party! We can throw him a dozen parties! We can get the ball rolling with a "Welcome to Ponyville" party since he'll be new to town! Then we can do a "You deserve love and respect" party so he'll know that all the hard work he does is appreciated! Ooh! If he's here on his birthday we even can throw him a birthday party too! The possibilities are limitless!"
Spike had been staying silent for the most part since the letter had made its appearance and he'd passed it to Twilight. But the way Pinkie was going, he didn't feel like he could stay silent any longer.
"Uh, Pinkie? I'm not really sure that's a good idea. He might not like that..."
Pinkie immediately whirled around and looked in Spike in sheer, mind-boggled confusion.
"Say what? Don't be silly, Spike, what kind of pony wouldn't want to have a birthday party? Or any party for that matter?"
"The kind of pony that worked straight through seven of his own birthdays without a second thought," he replied as he glanced at the letter and scanned over it. "The whole time Twilight and I lived at the palace, Princess Celestia always let the staff take their birthday off with pay, no questions asked. Even Shining Armor would take his birthday off to spend the day with his family.
"But this guy? Her letter makes it sound like he's worked every birthday and holiday without fail. That doesn't sound like the kind of guy who actually wants to have a party; he sounds like he's actively trying to avoid them."
"W... what?" Pinkie asked, too stunned by what she was hearing to maintain her usual speech volume. "Why... why would he do something like that?"
She needed to sit down. The idea of a pony doing everything in their power to avoid a party, to actively avoid having fun was far too unsettling for her to want to think about right now.
"... Because he didn't have the benefit of the same lessons in friendship that I did," Twilight surmised slowly as she looked at her friends, a horrified expression slowly working its way across her face. "This letter that Celestia sent us, it suddenly makes sense. This guard... he's what I would've been under different circumstances.
"The whole reason I came to Ponyville and made friends in the first place was because of Nightmare Moon. If she hadn't been a threat needing to be stopped, that never would have happened otherwise. My life would've been dominated by pursuits of knowledge and academic excellence that would make what you're seeing now pale in comparison. My thirst would scholarly knowledge would've been unquenchable in my pursuit of learning more and more. There wouldn't have been room in my life for anything else except my studies.
"At one point in my life that wouldn't have seemed so bad. I could've eventually become one of Celestia's most trusted court advisors. But now... now I realize just how empty and unfulfilling that sort of existence would ultimately be. Being one of the smartest scholars in history really doesn't mean much if you don't have anypony to share that prestige and accomplishment with..."
She had to take a moment to compose herself, lest she burst into tears as unpleasant thoughts made themselves known.
"I think Rarity might be right. Why else would Celestia be asking us for help in this matter, if she didn't want us to get involved? You all showed me that there's so much to life that just can't be found inside of a book. You taught me about living life rather than just studying it in a clinical fashion that was detached from everything. I think she wants us to do the same for him."
"Huh," Rainbow Dash commented as she absently scratched her head. "You know, when you put it like that it does kinda make sense. We have kinda gotten each other through some really dark times."
"We really have," Fluttershy agreed. "I think Rarity's right. I think we should write Princess Celestia back and suggest this guard come to Ponyville for a little vacation. If that doesn't do any good and he needs something more involved, like actual psychiatric care, at least we tried everything we know how to do to help."
Like dominoes, the others in the library fell in agreement that the best course of action to the problem at hoof was to act as hosts to the guard in question. Except for Applejack who was keeping quiet as the others talked. The whole thing had been a might bit weird in how it all transpired so fast like it had. Not that being hospitable and friendly was out of the question. But if Celestia had intended for them to reach that conclusion, wouldn't it have been better to just ask up front instead of expecting them to figure it out on their own?
Whatever their response was, it'd be simple and to the point in comparison. So it really wasn't asking too much for a little reciprocity on that matter, was it?
But that was neither here nor there. Their help had been requested, and she really couldn't think of a reason to not provide it. If this stallion really was in as bad of shape as the letter suggested, then she'd feel lower than the belly of a snake if she didn't offer him a friendly hoof.
"A'right, Ah'm up fer it. Let's see 'bout getting this feller here an' helpin' 'im learn how ta relax," she spoke up.
"Right then! Spike, take a letter!" Twilight stated.
Spike had a quill and scroll in claws before Twilight had even fully gotten the words out, and was already penning the opening sentence that he knew was going to follow.
"Dear Princess Celestia. I've been discussing the matter with my friends, and I think we have an idea on what to do..."
Holly Leaf stretched, working out a catch in her left wither with a largely inaudible but satisfying pop. She knew better than to sleep in the position she had last night, but that never seemed to stop anypony from tossing and turning and rolling about when they were asleep.
But that matter was neither here nor there. She was still here and still had work that needed to be done before the day was over.
But on the bright side at least she hadn't drawn library duty today; she hated that job even under the best of circumstances! So any day that didn't involve working in that room could be considered an overall good day.
Although the semi-good mood was interrupted she rounded the corner on her way to her assignment, and nearly ran face-first into another pony coming the opposite direction in the process. It was only through the combination quick thinking and reflexes that the collision was avoided for either of them.
A particularly polite but biting retort was practically on the tip of her tongue, but it died as she looked at the pony and struggled to place his unfamiliar appearance. He was looking particularly unkempt and a bit disturbing with the circles under his eyes. He didn't really look all that well as he just stood there.
"I apologize," he stated simply.
She didn't exactly recognize the pony on sight alone. But the combination of white coat, the way he stood, and that phrase together made something in the back of her mind click as a connection was established.
"... Thunder Strike?" she asked uncertainly.
"At your service," he replied simply.
She was a bit lost for words right now. She, like pretty much the rest of the palace by now, had heard about what he'd gone through. But this was the first time she'd caught sight of him outside of his armor. Caught sight of the stallion and not the guard. And he looked rough.
"You, uh, you feeling okay? You don't look all that well..." she commented uneasily as she looked at him.
"I can't say I slept particularly well last night," he admitted, having to struggle to get the words out before turning his head to yawn. "I was trying to study in the library, looking for any books that might explain how a pony should go about relaxing. But the palace library is woefully inadequate on that particular subject."
Holly tried not to frown in response. That sounded almost like a Twilight thing to do.
"It was around two AM that I concluded I wouldn't find the answers I was looking for. After that I went back to my new quarters to try and get some sleep. But that didn't exactly work out particularly well. I forgot that I'd been moved out of the barracks for the time being, and had to trek my way back to where I was supposed to be. And once I finally got there, getting to sleep was its own challenge," he admitted.
"Oh? What was the problem?" she asked, growing more curious as the story went on.
"It wasn't the barracks. There was nopony there," he stated, before feeling the need to yawn again. "The room was dead silent, devoid of any sounds of life. No snoring, no breathing, no rustling of sheets except my own. I'm not used to that. I kept laying awake, waiting to hear something, but there was just nothing there. It was like being isolated."
Holly wasn't sure if she blinked in response or not. He couldn't sleep because his room was quiet?
"If I may ask, do you have any engagements tonight?"
"Huh?" she asked, the previous thought clogging her mind until she shook her head to clear the mental cobwebs. "Well I'd have to check the schedule, but I don't think so. Why?"
"I'm really not accustomed to sleeping by myself. Could you come over and spend the night?" he asked.
Now Holly was certain she really did blink. Had he really just asked her what she thought he had?
"You... want me to sleep with you?" she asked, just to clarify and double check.
He nodded simply in response.
"Oh, wow," she breathed in response, unprepared for that one. "I... don't really know. Don't get me wrong, you're a very nice stallion and all, but-" she started to say, tried to say, but stopped. Did she actually want to turn him down?
"Actually... I think I could go along for that. Yeah, sure, let's do that," she agreed and nodded.
"Thank you. I'd appreciate that," he stated. "The quarters I've been assigned for my recovery are being wasted on a single pony such as myself. It's far too much; the bed alone could easily sleep five or six ponies."
The image his statement was conjuring was just about enough to make her face go red from embarrassment. And yet, she couldn't exactly tune out what she was hearing. It was starting to give her ideas. Ideas that she couldn't exactly deny had a certain appeal about them.
"Oh really now? Well in that case, would you might if I brought another pony along? I've got a friend who might enjoy herself," she suggested.
"Not at all. The more the merrier. I think," he stated, all the while looking almost suspiciously like he was trying not to let on that he was happy with the news. "Again, thank you. I'll let you get back to your duties, I've taken up enough of your time as it is. I'm going to get myself cleaned up and looking presentable, before seeing if Doctor Malar will sign off on my going back on duty. Even though he probably won't. But a Royal Guard never gives up, a Royal Guard never quits. I have to keep asking, regardless of what he might say."
"Right, well, good luck with that. I'll see you tonight, then."
Her mind was suddenly reeling as they parted ways. Had that just happened? Had that really just happened?
As she looked back at him and observed his muscly butt as he trotted away towards his destination, she'd concluded that hell yes it'd happened!
The sound of careful wing beats filled the area as an ivory-colored pegasus in palace maid attire hovered off the ground, running a feather duster along the light fixture in front of her. All the while her green eyes examined its surface over the edge of her black-rimmed glasses, looking for any traces of dust that tried to escape her. She would be having none of that, nor would she allow for the flap of her feathers to send the dust flying elsewhere that she'd have to clean a second time.
All the while, she hummed a gentle melody to herself, using it almost like a metronome as she dusted.
"Doily! Hey, Doily, you got a minute up there?"
She looked down at the sound of the voice below her, and saw a fellow maid standing there, looking up at her with wide, excited eyes.
"What's up, Holly? Besides me, that is?"
"First, quick question, do you have any plans for tonight?" Holly asked.
"Me?" Doily asked, caught off guard by the question. "W-well no I-"
"Perfect!" Holly stated. "Lieutenant Strike asked me to sleep with him tonight."
"He did?"
Holly nodded. "And he said I could bring a friend along. You up for it?"
"M-me?" Doily practically squeaked, her cheeks growing hot at the mere thought of it. The very idea of it was enough to force her to land, as it was growing difficult to control her wings. "You want me to be there? He wants me there?"
"Don't try to tell me the idea doesn't appeal to you," Holly countered.
Doily's wings might as well have been starched at this point, because they weren't about to close on their own as she stood there, covering her mouth with a hoof to avoid letting out certain sounds that she probably shouldn't.
"Well I..." she started, but gave up. "I have watched him work out before. The way his muscles ripple, all sweaty and tense as he grunts and benches more weight than I weigh... he has stamina for days," she practically moaned.
"And a cute ass," Holly added with a grin. "An ass that we're going to screw into the mattress when we get there. Until we can't even walk back to our quarters because we don't even remember where they are."
"Alright, alright, I'm in!" Doily quickly agreed.
They bumped hooves in agreement and smiled. Tonight was going to be one to remember, they just had to stay focused on their work until then.
It'd been another long, hard day of cleaning duties at Canterlot Palace. Made all the longer and harder for two particular maids that had to wrestle with errant -borderline improper- thoughts throughout the course of the day as they anxiously waited for the end of their shifts to finally come around.
The end of their shift was a bit of a double-edged sword to encounter, though. Errant thoughts made it hard to focus on getting their work done properly. But at the same time their work provided a much-needed distraction to the anticipation of what was in store and what was to come when the sun finally went down.
It'd taken a monumental effort to stay calm as the day wore on, anticipation weighing heavily on each of them and only seeming to grow heavier with every passing second. But at long last, the night had come and everything was done for the day. Leaving them free to get ready for the main event.
Doily fidgeted as she and Holly walked along, her wings twitching at her sides and her heart fluttering, trying to decide if she wanted to gallop ahead to their destination, or run back to her quarters and hide in embarrassment. Either one would've been good right now, really.
"I can't believe we're actually doing this," she squeaked, unable to match Holly's more calm and collected demeanor as they trotted along. "I couldn't wait for the moment to get here, and now that we're about to do it... suddenly I'm apprehensive. Scared even."
"You'll be fine," Holly assured her. "Strike's a very nice stallion."
"Would you believe that's honestly part of what worries me?" Doily asked. "When we were talking about it, it was one thing; it was just talk, it wasn't anything that could hurt anypony. But what we're doing now? We haven't really done this sort of thing before. W-what if something goes wrong and it gets really awkward between all of us?"
"Doily," Holly sighed and huffed as she stopped walking. "Listen. I don't know what's going to happen, but tonight's going to be fine, alright? We're just a couple of friends hanging out together and having a good time, that's all. It'll be okay."
One look at Doily was enough to see she wasn't entirely certain about this, now that they were approaching the wire. But she uneasily nodded regardless as Holly gave her a reassuring hug, which she was quick to return with a bit more oomph.
"Let's get going. No sense keeping the big guy waiting; he's been waiting at least as long as we have," Holly insisted.
"A-alright," Doily agreed and nodded as the hug broke, letting them continue on their way.
Soon enough, or all too soon depending on who was asked, their trek led them to their intended destination in front of the door to Thunder's new quarters.
"You ever clean these rooms before?" Holly asked.
Doily shook her head. "Hasn't come up yet."
"Well then you're in for a visual treat when you see the inside of this one," Holly replied and knocked firmly at the door. "Maybe a couple of treats, actually."
The wait was short as the door soon swung open to reveal Thunder behind it, looking better than he had been this morning. It really was amazing what a shower and a good combing could do in making a pony look presentable.
Presentable, but he still looked like he was tired and doing his best to fight against it. Something they'd probably all be doing a lot before the night was done.
"Hi there, Thunder. Is now a good time?" she asked while Doily was currently too busy trying not to stare.
"Of course. Thank you for coming," he said as he stepped aside and held the door open for them.
With a nudge to Doily's side to snap her back to attention, Holly stepped in first and took a careful look around the room at the swank surroundings. This was definitely a nice room they found themselves in.
"Nice place," she commented. "Meet my friend, Doily."
"Good evening, Doily," Thunder greeted her politely as he held out his right forehoof to her. "Thank you for coming over tonight."
Doily's response was more automatic than deliberate as she reached out to shake his hoof. He was so polite, it was really hard to believe. Even outside of the uniform, his politeness and courteousness was on full display.
"T-thank you for having us over tonight. I never really thought that I'd be here... doing this...," she replied, uncertain of what else to say and just trying to fill the silence with something so it didn't get too awkward too quickly. Provided she could avoid stuffing her hoof in her mouth. "This is a... very nice room..."
"You should see the view. On a clear night a pony can see for miles. So many buildings are currently alight beyond the palace's boundaries. It really is a sight to behold," he stated, practically ushering her over to windows so she could see for herself.
Doily allowed herself to be moved inside the room, past the couch and over to the windows where Holly was already standing. And while she had seen the city's night sky before, it was always a bit different from this vantage point. He honestly had good reason to be so impressed by what he could see. And she had to admit that his enthusiasm over something so simple was kind of cute; very dis-alarming in its own way.
"It really is fascinating to just stand and watch everything from here, you know? You can see the little dots of pegasi flying about in the sky, the way the sun's light is caught and reflected by the accessories various points wear as they go about their day, the pattern of the city's lights coming on as the evening comes and the sun starts to set," he commented. "I've never really seen such a sight before. It's so expansive, you could just stand here for hours and still never see everything there is to see out there. I admit, I spent most of the night just standing here and watching the city when I couldn't sleep. Just watching it all and taking it all in."
"It really is an impressive spread," Holly agreed as the three of them just stood there in companionable silence. But they weren't here for mere stargazing right now, and she turned away from the windows to look at him. "So, how'd your appointment go? Are you cleared to get back to work tomorrow?"
Her efforts at making small talk weren't met with the reaction she'd been hoping for. Suddenly the seemingly good mood he'd been in while standing at Doily's side seemed to evaporate, like water on hot pavement.
"No," he replied simply and shook his head. "Doctor Malar said that I'm still unfit for service. He's worried the strain is still too much for my heart."
Doily suddenly looked up and blinked, torn away from the view offered by the windows. "Your heart? There's something wrong with your heart?"
"I don't believe so, but the doctors do and are worried. Supposedly all of the hours I've been working have stressed it more than they're comfortable with. But frankly I'm having trouble with believing that. Standing is one of the least physically-impacting activities a pony can engage in, in the course of a day. I don't see how standing watch for eight hours at a time can pose so much risk," he explained, clearly displeased with having to say as much. "But they believe it is. And until they're certain I'm in good physical health, I'm on indefinite medical leave."
"Wow. That's rough," Holly acknowledged. "And... you're sure that you're up for tonight? You don't wanna reschedule for another night?" she asked.
Thunder shook his head in response. "I'd rather not, if that's alright."
"Just making sure," Holly replied and shrugged. "So then, about what we're doing here tonight. How would you like to start-"
"Holly, could I speak with you for just a minute? Privately?" Doily spoke up, all but insisting as she moved over to her friend and began ushering her in the direction of what they assumed was the room's private bathroom.
"Hey, easy now," Holly insisted, caught off guard by how forceful Doily was being. "Thunder, big guy, you just go ahead and get yourself ready!" she called back, just before being forced into the room.
The door was practically slammed shut from the inside and locked in the same fashion, much to Holly's confusion and annoyance.
"Doily, just what in Tartarus has gotten into you?"
"We can't do this," Doily practically hissed, trying to keep her voice low as if they were engaged in some sort of a conspiracy. "You heard him yourself just now, his heart isn't up for this."
Holly had to pause before she could respond, uncertain what to say as her mind tried to process it.
"Doily, Thunder's not in that bad of condition, otherwise the hospital would've never released him the other day," she pointed out. "Malar's just being overly cautious, that's all. Thunder's been working way too long without a break, this is just the Doc's way of letting him rest."
"But what if it isn't?" Doily asked. "We could end up giving him a heart attack if we do this. What if he dies on us? Worse, what if he dies under us? There'll be an investigation, we'll be culpable for murder because we knew how bad he was and still went through with it!"
Holly huffed in frustration. "Doily-"
"No!" Doily snapped back. "If you wanna stay and get... get... Thunderstruck... then that's up to you. But I won't have any part in what transpires here tonight. I'll not put that stallion at risk of dying for a good time."
Holly huffed in annoyance. But one look at her friend told her that she wasn't going to yield from her position. Her mind was made up, and that was going to be that.
"Alright, Doily, you win. We'll go," she sighed reluctantly in defeat.
Doily smiled in response. A soft, relieved smile. The kind that Holly really felt annoyed by right now. How her friend could be so sweet and innocent at times was both a mystery, and an utter annoyance.
Unlocking the door, she stepped out first. "Hey, Thunder, something's come up. I've got a headache that won't quit and-"
She stopped talking as she stepped into the room and failed to see him standing there. Glancing over at the bed, he wasn't there either.
"What? Now where'd he go?"
"What now?" Doily asked.
"Thunder's not here. The room's empty."
Now very curious, Doily joined her friend outside of the luxurious bathroom and looked around with her. The bed was a little ruffled compared to earlier, but the room was empty except for them.
"What happened?" she asked.
"You tell me and we'll both know," Holly replied, both confused and annoyed at what was going on. "Maybe he slipped out to get something for tonight?"
"Maybe," Doily replied uncertainly. And as much as she didn't want to stay for what might happen, she was now too curious to just up and leave just like that. If nothing else she wanted to stay at least until she got some answers. "I guess we just sit and wait."
She moved around to sit on the couch, but nearly tripped and squeaked in surprise, alternating between looking at the floor and her friend.
"Um, Holly, y-you wanna take a look at this?" she asked shakily.
Curious, Holly stepped around the front of the couch with her friend, and saw what had her so surprised. Thunder Strike hadn't left the room like they'd initially thought, but he'd definitely checked out on them. He was currently laying on the carpeted floor with a pillow tucked under his head, and totally unconscious as he laid on his side.
"What... what just happened?" Doily asked, not sure what to make of what she was seeing.
"I haven't got a clue," Holly admitted as she watched Strike's chest rise and fall in a slow but steady fashion as he breathed. "I've heard of stallions falling asleep after sex. I've even heard about stallions sometimes falling asleep during sex. But I've never heard of a stallion actually falling asleep before sex."
She looked down at his prone position again, observing as he laid there, totally oblivious to his surroundings and more or less dead to the world.
One thing was for certain. Any plans they'd had for tonight were hosed.
"Holly," Doily spoke up, "why did he pick the floor to sleep on?"
"Say what now?" Holly asked as she looked back at her friend, not sure what she was asking.
"He didn't just topple over unexpectedly, or we would've heard a thud when he fell. The pillow he's using came from the bed, so he obviously knew what he was doing when he made the decision to lay down," Doily explained. "But I don't understand why. He could've taken the bed for himself since it's his room and that's his choice to make. He could've even taken the couch if he wanted to. But instead he makes the decision to take a pillow and lay on the floor to sleep like a dog would? I don't understand why. Why would he do something like that?"
It was a good question. It was a very good question. It was right up there with the question of what sort of stallion invited a couple of mares over to his place for a good time, and ended up falling asleep before the fun could even begin?
She gently nudged his leg with her hoof, but he showed no signs of registering her presence or reacting to the touch. He was completely out of it. Just how long had he been awake last night to be this tired?
...
"The sounds of life..."
"Pardon?" Doily asked.
"I'm an idiot," Holly groaned as she closed her eyes, feeling like the fake headache mentioned previously was going to be very much real in short order. "He was telling me what he wanted from the very beginning. But I was too blind to see it for myself. The answer was right in front of me and I didn't pay it any attention because I misread the situation."
"I don't understand," Doily stated.
"He was telling me about how quiet the room is, how devoid of the sounds of life it is. He's probably been in communal living for his entire life and got accustomed to the commotion that other ponies can cause when they're sleeping. He probably can't rest without it," Holly surmised as she slowly opened her eyes and looked back at her friend. "He wasn't asking me to spend the night because he was interested in sex. He was asking me to spend the night because he needed a roommate so he doesn't have to sleep alone."
"You really think so?" Doily asked.
"It makes a lot of sense, now that I stop and think of it," Holly replied and nodded. "The reason he opted to sleep on the floor instead of somewhere else? He probably left us the couch and the bed so we'd be comfortable if we stayed the night. He probably didn't care where he slept, just so long as he had company."
They looked back down at his prone form as he continued to lay there, motionless except for the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest as he breathed. They hadn't even been out of the room all that long, and yet he'd managed to fall asleep in that short amount of time? Just how much relief had he felt simply by having them here with him?
"Well, our plans for the night are pretty much wasted. What do you wanna do instead?" she eventually asked.
"Well... we do have this nice room, practically all to ourselves," Doily pointed out. "It'd be a shame to waste the opportunity to enjoy it, don't you think?"
Holly looked at her, and slowly understood what her friend was suggesting. Thunder's quarters were way nicer than anything they had access to on their own. And he couldn't exactly complain if they utilized it since he'd invited them over in the first place. So they might as well take advantage of situation and make the most of it.
"Yeah. Yeah I could go for that. It's probably be for the best anyway, I don't think he'd do too well if he woke up and we weren't here; dude probably has issues," she replied. "I'll take the couch if you want the bed."
"Actually, I had a slightly different idea," Doily spoke up. "It'd be awfully rude of us to leave him just laying on the floor like he's a dog. Maybe we should put him to bed, in his bed, and we'll share the couch? It looks like it's big enough to hold both of us easy enough," she suggested.
Holly thought over the suggestion, looking between them, at Thunder Strike, the couch, and finally the bed. And finally, after much debate, she eventually shrugged.
"You know what? Sure. Go pull back the covers and I'll see about lifting him," she said as her horn began to glow.
Actually lifting Thunder up off the ground, as it turned out, was a much taller order than she'd anticipated. He easily weighed twice as much as the heaviest thing she'd ever lifted on the job before, and she'd nearly dropped him upon getting him just a few inches off the floor. Even just keeping him aloft and not jostling him was a challenge in itself, leaving her struggling as she walked and slowly floated him over to the bed. Getting him up high enough to clear the mattresses had been just short of impossible, and setting him down gently was just about worth forgetting as a possibility. She'd managed all of it regardless, but not without feeling thoroughly worn out in the process.
"Dude weighs a ton," she panted, "he's stout enough to be an earth pony."
"He certainly looks the part with all of those muscles he has," Doily noted, a slight smile playing on her lips as she looked at him in the middle of the bed. "I've heard some ponies say that he could out-bench Lieutenant Wall."
Holly snorted in amusement at just how absurd the notion was. Brick Wall was an absolute chonk of a stallion with a reputation for more physical strength than even the Sisters. The idea that Thunder could out-lift him was just too ridiculous to take seriously.
But then again, what did she really know? She'd never seen them go head-to-head in a test of strength, so maybe it was possible.
Their thoughts were interrupted as the stallion in question shifted slightly on the bed, but otherwise remained quite still where he laid, showing no signs of waking up.
"Um... what do we say in case anypony asks what happened tonight?" Doily asked.
Holly shrugged dismissively. "We just tell them the truth; he was as gentle as a little lamb the entire time, and was more focused on our comfort than his own satisfaction. Let them make of it what they will."
Doily giggled in response, the idea too good to ignore. It was both honest and dishonest, and she loved it.
"Anyway," Holly yawned, "lifting him tapped me out. I'm ready to crash myself. I don't know about you but I'm ready to go to bed."
Doily contemplated the statement, again looking to the couch. It was certainly big enough that the two of them could probably lay at opposite ends without touching hooves. And they would have a nice view of the skyline to sleep by. But...
"We could. Or maybe... we could do something different?" she suggested, a tinge of hopefulness in her voice. "His bed really is too big for just one single pony..."
Holly looked back at Doily, and the nervous but hopeful smile that she was wearing.
"Do you think he'd mind if we..."
Holly contemplated the question, glancing between her friend and the bed.
"Somehow, I don't think he would," she relented and shrugged. "Let's just do it, I'm too tired to argue."
The pillow was retrieved from the floor, and the bed carefully readjusted and repositioned in a way that left Thunder situated in the middle of its large structure. Leaving the sides with just enough room to fit a couple of others; a fact that Doily capitalized on by slowly climbing up on the side of the bed closest to Thunder's front and laid herself down next to him, letting out a subdued groan into the pillow as she practically sank into the siren's call of the mattress.
Holly followed soon after, taking the other side and hunkering herself down next to Thunder's back. She found the mattress to be every bit as welcoming as Doily made it out to be.
"Might not've been what we'd planned on. But this isn't too bad, really," she idly commented as she rolled over and got herself comfortable. "You good, Doily?"
"I'm good," Doily whispered as she carefully took her glasses off and placed them on the nightstand next to her side of the bed. "Are you good?"
"Eh, good enough, all things considered," Holly replied and shrugged, before finding the light switch to the room with her magic and flicking it off, leaving the only source of illumination being what was coming through the window. "Goodnight," she said with a yawn.
"Goodnight," Doily replied.
After a moment's thought, she slowly rolled herself over until she was facing Thunder, and carefully leaned in to gently kiss him on the forehead. "Goodnight to you, too, you big goof," she whispered to him with a cheesy grin, and slowly shut her eyes.
Perhaps it wasn't the nigh they'd originally been planning on. But to her, if anypony asked her opinion, it was still a night that was worthwhile. A night that she could enjoy with her friends as the amicable silence slowly washed over them, as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
He'd known that something wasn't right, from the moment the fog of sleep had started to clear from his brain and allow him to transition to something that vaguely resembled consciousness.
In the past seven and a half years of being a Royal Guard, two years spent at the academy to become a Royal Guard, and countless leading up to him becoming a Royal Guard, he had gotten firmly into the habit of waking up at a specific time of day, to the point he could practically feel the time of day. He had conditioned himself to rise and shine regardless of whatever the circumstances were that might demand a different course of action.
Thousands of times over the course of his service, he'd forced his body up and out of his bed no matter how exhausted he might've felt, because he had duties that needed to be performed regardless of how he might've felt.
But this time his body refused to cooperate. Despite him technically being awake, technically being conscious, his body felt heavy and unwilling to let him move from his spot. Even something as simple as trying to open an eye was proving to be far more than his body wanted to allow to happen.
The last time he'd felt this weak, this tired and unable to move, he'd fallen in the showers and was stuck laying under the cold spray of water until he'd been found and rescued. It'd been bad enough the first time around, and he had no interest in a repeat of that. But he just couldn't seem to get his body to cooperate this time around.
But this time around it felt different. This time around he didn't feel cold and wet, but rather warm and dry. He actually felt... dare he say it... comfortable.
Something was out of place in this equation. He remembered falling asleep last night, and nothing he'd experienced could explain how he was feeling right now. The floor of his quarters was firm and unyielding beneath the padding underneath the carpeting he'd rested on. By comparison, what he was feeling right now almost felt like he was floating. It felt like... he didn't even know what it felt like, they were too many unfamiliar sensations for his brain to process going by mere touch alone.
Grunting, he focused on forcing an eye open to survey his surroundings.
Despite the low light setting, he recognized that he was still in his quarters. More specifically he was in the bed in his quarters. Now he knew that something was wrong, because he knew that he hadn't been on the bed when he'd fallen asleep. He had to have been placed there after the fact, but for what reason and by whom, he had no idea.
And then he felt something rustling against him. Something actually moving.
Straining to glance down with both eyes, he saw that Doily was in the bed with him, and was currently nestling her face into his chest with her forelegs wrapped around him... and his forelegs had wrapped around her! And if he had to hazard a guess, going by what he was currently feeling as the rush of adrenaline started to bludgeon and slice its way through the haze of tiredness... Holly was currently behind him in much the same position, pressing her front up against his back as she held close to him.
"Alright, don't panic, that'll only make things worse. Stay calm and focus on your training. Take stock of the situation, and evaluate what you know. You're in a bed with two mares, and you don't have a clue how you got there. The last thing you remember was Holly saying to get yourself ready while she and Doily talked in private. You took one of the pillows from the bed and settled down in front of the window. And then... then you woke up in this situation."
He knew precious little about his current situation. He understood even less. And why was it proving to be so comfortable that all he wanted to do right now was just go back to sleep?
He really didn't understand it. He'd been asleep for the last eight hours straight without interruption, and had been having a pleasant dream about having to fill in for one of his fellow Guards in one of the most prestigious positions available at the palace; standing watch at the base of Princess Celestia's throne. Was all of that simply not enough for his greedy body? Did it really expect him to go back to bed like he didn't have responsibilities to see to? How much more rest did his body really want from him?
...
It was a stupid question and he knew it. He wasn't getting anywhere near enough rest to maintain his work schedule. And if what Princess Celestia had said in her office was accurate, there wasn't a pony in the kingdom who could actually make his schedule work in the long term; not even her.
The spirit might be willing, but the flesh was too weak to withstand what was being demanded of it. He'd pushed his body to the breaking point, and once there he'd tried to push even more out of it. And in the process of doing so in order to embody his ideal of what a Royal Guard should be, he'd nearly died as a result. Because the breaking point was named that for a very good reason; once that boundary was crossed, you were the one that was broken in the process.
Eight hours of rest for one night simply wasn't going to be anywhere near enough to get him back in shape for service, and he knew that. He didn't care for that fact, but there really wasn't much that he could do about it. The rules of physics had no care for what anypony thought, regardless of their amount of dedication and determination they carried.
His thoughts on the matter were interrupted as Doily shifted slightly in his hold, but made no move to indicate that she was currently awake, or showing an intention of actually waking up.
That just served to bring him back to his previous questions and thoughts. What exactly had happened here last night? Why couldn't he remember anything? And why had that been the most restful night's sleep he could remember in a very long time?
"We've got a lot of good questions, but we're not going to get any answers just laying around here. Need to ignore the physical comfort and focus on doing what needs to be done instead."
The first order of business was getting himself untangled and out of the bed. But first he had to figure out how to do that. The foreleg currently draped over Doily was easy enough to move off of her, but the one pinned underneath her frame was a different story that had to be figured out without disturbing her slumber. And then he'd have to find a way to get himself untangled from her forelegs and Holly's, and then get off of the bed, all without waking them up.
"Teleporting out of this isn't exactly an option. Not with them both in close contact with me at least; they'll be dragged right along with me. Even if I can compensate for their inclusion, at least one of them is going to end up falling on the ground."
Try as he might, regardless of whatever strategy and approach came to mind for how to address this matter and get himself free, he just couldn't figure a way out of this without waking at least one of them up in the process.
"It looks like I don't have any other choice in the matter," he acknowledged to himself. "Doily... Doily," he whispered as he gently nudged her with his free foreleg. "Doily, wake up."
What should've been enough to rouse her, as it could easily rouse him, seemed to have the opposite effect of making her grunt in annoyance and try to bury herself deeper into the bed and against him.
"Doily," he continued, using his free hoof to shrug her with a bit more force this time. "I need you to wake up, please. It's important."
Slowly, reluctantly, his efforts produced the desired result of rousing her from her slumber, leading to her stirring and slowly pulling her head back in order to yawn and rub her eyes as she mumbled incoherently to herself.
"Whuzut?" she mumbled as she looked at him.
Reaching out with his magic, he plucked her glasses off the nightstand once he caught sight of them, and gently placed them back on her face where they belonged so she could better see.
"Thunder?" she asked as she saw him come back into focus, "what's going on?"
"I was hoping that you could tell me. After letting me get up," he replied.
He could see the confusion playing out on her face at his words, as she pulled her head back and slowly looked down at the two of them as her mind tried to process what she was hearing.
She let out a small, startled sound and quickly did her best to withdraw, as he shifted his weight to unpin her foreleg and allow them to separate, which nearly led to her rolling right off the edge of the bed as she tried to get up.
With the commotion of it all serving to rouse Holly from her slumber. Which provided him with just enough slack to slip free from her hold and climb down off the bed.
"It's way too early to be awake," she mumbled to herself, yawning and stretching out on the bed while looking ready to roll over and go right back to sleep.
"I apologize for waking you. I was trying to avoid doing that," Thunder spoke up.
"Whatever," Holly grunted in tired annoyance, before stretching much like a cat would, resigning herself to the fact that she wasn't about to get anymore shuteye. "No use just laying around here, I guess."
"Do you mind if I ask a question?" Thunder asked her as she climbed off the bed on their side. "What exactly happened last night?"
"We were kind of hoping you could tell us the same thing," Holly replied, now off the bed and rolling her withers. "Why were you sleeping on the floor when we found you?"
"You told me to get myself ready, so I did," he replied.
Holly quickly shook her head. "No, no, I mean why were you sleeping on the floor like a dog last night?"
"... Where else would I be sleeping at the time?"
The question had been delivered with absolutely no sarcasm, and a heaping helping of genuine curiosity as he looked at them for an answer. He honestly looked like he as lost; like he wasn't able to put two and two together, and was trying to understand a foreign concept.
"Thunder," she started slowly, not really sure what to think herself, "why didn't you take the couch last night?"
"Where would you or Doily have slept if I'd done that?" he asked in turn. "That would've left you having to choose who got the floor instead of me. I couldn't see any point in that."
Holly looked over to Doily, who looked back at her. Were they actually hearing him right? Did he really not know that...
"Thunder," Doily spoke up as she brought his attention over to her. "Holly and I could've doubled up on the bed together without issue. I think we proved pretty well last night that it has more than enough room for that. It's not like it would've been a big deal or anything."
"Oh," Thunder replied slowly. "I... didn't know that was actually an option."
"You didn't-" Holly started, only to stop herself as she looked at him in disbelief. "Thunder, I know this isn't any of my business, but haven't you ever shared a bed with another pony before?"
He didn't immediately respond to the question, but instead looked like he was trying to remember for himself if it was something that'd happened.
"I did. Five days ago when I got back from the hospital," he eventually replied. "I ended up sleepwalking my way onto duty that night, and had to be put back to bed by Princess Luna herself. Sergeant Lily on the night shift had her put me in her bunk since she wouldn't be needing it until the following morning."
The brief moment of hope they'd experienced at the start of his explanation, the hope that he understood what they were saying, was easily broken by his recounting of the relevant details.
"No, not like taking turns," Holly clarified, doing her best to not sigh in frustration. "I mean, like you and another pony sleeping in the same bed at the same time. Together."
"Oh..." Thunder replied slowly. "Once. But I got in trouble for doing it, and told that I was too old to be letting somepony sleep in my bed with me."
Doily wanted to groan at hearing this. She could only imagine what Thunder's home life had to have been like if what she was hearing was an accurate recounting of things that'd happened. Probably an older brother whose little sister would crawl into bed with him at night, only for their parents to object as they started to get closer to puberty. And Thunder, being the dutiful and obedient pony that he was on the job, probably just took the statement at face value without ever bothering to ask for finer details.
"Well I don't know who you might've heard that from, but there's nothing wrong with a couple of ponies sharing the same bed together. Especially not when it's a nice big bed you can stretch out on," she stated and shook her head. "And if somepony tries to tell you different, you send them to me and I'll straighten them out for you."
Holly blinked at the sudden shift in Doily's demeanor. When had such a mousy and otherwise polite little pegasus, suddenly found the assertiveness to turn into a bossy big sister type?
Not that she would complain. Doily could stand to have a bit more assertiveness about her. And from the way Thunder just nodded silently in response, he didn't seem to have any complaints either.
"Alright," she spoke up and yawned again, "I'm going to see about getting some breakfast and some coffee. Today's gonna be a long day."
"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Thunder, you wanna join us?" Doily asked.
"As appealing as that sounds, I can't really do that right now. I need to do morning calisthenics, get a shower, make myself look presentable, and go see if Doctor Malar will certify me for working today," Thunder explained.
"But didn't you do that yesterday?" Holly asked. "Shouldn't you focus more on resting, rather than rushing to get back to work?"
"I don't know how to do that. I can't just... sit down and do nothing when there's work that's needing to be done; it just feels wrong to be doing that. If nothing else I have to at least keep trying. Eventually he'll have to sign off on me returning to active duty," he replied.
All Holly could do was sigh and try not to shake her head in response. He was never going to get anywhere with that attitude. But it was his life and his job, and he really hadn't asked her for her opinion or input on the subject. If he had, she could've offered him some advice on what not to be doing. But right now that wasn't her place.
"Alright then. Good luck, then," she replied and shrugged dismissively. "Doily, you coming?"
"Um, I'll be there in a minute. You go on, I'll catch up," Doily stated as she waved her friend off.
Once they were finally alone in the room, she looked over at Thunder, and then stepped closer to him.
"Last night was really nice," she stated as she proceeded to hug him tightly. "I can probably come over again tonight if you'd like."
"Do you mind if I ask something first?" Thunder asked her. "How did I wind up in the bed last night? And why were we all intertwined like we were?"
"Well Holly and I didn't feel right about leaving you on the floor like you were, so we decided to put you in the bed. And then... well I got a bit silly and suggested we all share that bed since it was so big. I guess we all just sorta got scooted together in the night," Doily stated, not sure what else to say.
"I suppose that makes sense," Thunder replied. "Are you sure you wouldn't mind coming over again tonight?"
"Well I can't speak for Holly or what she might think, but I'd be happy to come over again. You're a very nice stallion."
She needed to settle down and calm herself, before she started making herself giddy and risk saying something that she shouldn't say.
"I'd better get going before Holly thinks something's amiss. Anyway, I'll see you tonight if you're still here, alright?" she asked as she let him go.
"Alright," Thunder replied and nodded. "I'll see you then."
Being the primary physician at Canterlot Palace, Malar knew that he had a lot of responsibilities on his plate when it came to keeping a lot of ponies healthy and taken care of.
He also knew that a lot of the cases he tended to in his work were of the routine sort. Sprains, occasional broken bones, random but mundane illnesses, exhaustion, burns, etc. that sort of thing. There was a certain stability that came with that routine.
It was because of that routine nature of his work, that he had a very good idea of what his morning was going to consist of when he heard the double swinging doors to the infirmary opening at this time of day. He knew it as soon as he heard the doors swing open, and the familiar hoofstep pattern that he'd been hearing a lot of these past few days.
"Good morning, Doctor Malar."
If nothing else, at least his patient was polite in addition to being punctual and professional. It was hard to get all three of them together in one pony.
"Thunder Strike," he replied in a suppressed huff as he turned around to face the stallion. "Please tell me you're here for something different this time. A strained muscle, a hangover, a possible STD, anything."
Day after day, ever since he returned from his stay at Canterlot General Hospital, he'd been making his way to the infirmary without fail to see about getting certified as fit to return to service and active duty. Some might call his dedication admirable to his job admirable.
He preferred to call it what it really was; stupid. There was no way Thunder was in any condition to go back on guard duty anytime soon, regardless of what he might say to the contrary.
"I'd be dishonest if I said something like that," Thunder stated simply.
"I suppose you would be," Malar acknowledged. "I'm still not signing off on you returning to active duty, though. You're nowhere near being fit for it."
"Doctor-"
"I examined you myself when you returned. You were just barely fit enough to be released from Canterlot General. I don't even know how you made it back to the palace on your own."
"I teleported-"
"That's not the point," Malar interrupted again. "You're unfit for duty, I'd be violating my oath if I put you back to work in your condition."
"The dangers that we stand against won't wait for us to be in prime physical condition before presenting themselves," Thunder countered. "You aren't the only who one swore an oath that has to be upheld. A Guard must always be ready for what may come, regardless of their circumstances."
"Which is all the more reason you need time to properly rest, recuperate, and recover before going back to the work that almost killed you," Malar pointed out. "You're not doing yourself any favors by trying to force yourself back into service before you're ready. If anything your stubbornness is only setting your recovery back rather than expediting it; you'll be down for even longer if you don't stop trying to prove you're ready when you're obviously not."
Thunder opened his mouth to retort, but found it closed again by Malar's magic coming into play.
"The equine body can only withstand so much abuse before it eventually reaches its limits and quits, and no amount of stubborn will can force it to go beyond those limits. And going by your records from the hospital, you were very close to that point by the time you got to them. And why? Because you refused to heed the warning signs that you were at your limits," he continued.
Thunder had no immediate response. Both because of the magic that was still in play, and because there were no words that he could offer up.
"Even after being at death's door, you're still trying to force more performance out of a body that's simply not up to the task. And I just don't understand why; it's almost like you have a death wish or something. Any other pony would be reevaluating things, but you just keep trying to soldier ahead without a second thought, without any regard for your own well being. What is it going to take to convince you to stop trying to be Captain Equestria, and take some time off to just relax!?"
"I don't know how to..."
The statement had been as soft as it was simple, suddenly leaving Malar the quiet one of the two when his magic fizzled out.
"I'm... sorry? What now?" he asked.
"... I shouldn't have said that," Thunder mumbled and shook his head, before looking back forward again. "Doctor Malar, I promise I'll cut back to just working one shift a day for a while. I won't take anymore overtime until you're certain I'm fit for it. But please, please let me go back to doing what I know how to do. I don't know how to do this, just... sitting around and doing nothing for hours at a time. How am I supposed to relax? How can I relax, when not working is just making me feel stressed over the fact that others are having to compensate for my absence?"
Malar blinked, not sure how to immediately respond. He knew that Thunder was a workaholic, and he was certain the entire palace knew that same fact. But what he was hearing right now, from a stallion practically begging to be sent back to work, just hammered home how bad the situation really was, and how big of a problem this could actually be.
"I'm sorry, but I just can't do that," he replied and slowly shook his head. "The physical strain of standing for even eight hours at a time, along with carrying the full weight of your guard armor, is just too much physical strain for your heart to bear right now. If I let you go back to work, it'd only be a matter of time before you suffered cardiac arrest. And this time there wouldn't be anything we could do to save you. You might make it three days, you might make it two weeks, but eventually it'd happen regardless," he explained.
This time Thunder had no verbal response to offer up. Although it was easy to see the turmoil playing out on his face and in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, but the only way you're ever going to be fit to return to duty again, is if you stop trying to be a guard all of the time. You need time away from your work, both mentally and physically, in order to recover. That's the entire point behind medical leave; so a patient actually can get well enough to go back to work," he stressed.
Not a word. Not a peep. Not even a blink. Thunder's face was utterly unreadable in the wake of this. It was a poker face is Malar had ever seen one. And he utterly hated it when his patients could pull that off, as it made his job all the harder to do properly.
"I apologize for wasting your time, Doctor Malar."
He really didn't like the sound of that statement. There was no sarcasm, no snottiness, no aggressiveness, no despair just... utter emptiness, as if he was broken to the point of not being able to feel anything.
And now he was the one who was rendered silent as Thunder slowly turned and left the infirmary without a single word, without making any effort to try and argue further. Something told him that hadn't heard the end of this, and this was far from actually being over.
Opal Elegance looked at the assignment sheet in front of her for today, her pale blue eyes flicking from line to line as she tried to mentally calculate whether or not she had the strength that she'd need to actually get through everything before nightfall.
"This is... something else," she noted softly. "You ponies up here in Canterlot actually do this sort of work every single day?"
Like other crystal ponies, she had long wondered about how much the outside world had changed in the thousand years their empire had been gone from Equestria, trapped in Sombra's limbo and immune to the passage of time.
Unlike other crystal ponies, however, she'd concluded the best way to learn about the outside world was to travel and experience it for herself firsthoof.
So what had she done to achieve that goal? Why, she'd made the decision to haul her lavender gradient mane and snowy white coated self all the way up to Canterlot to work as a maid at the palace, of course!
It'd seemed like a good idea at the time. Being a maid at one palace couldn't really be all that different from being a maid at one palace, could it?
If she knew then what she knew now, she would've kicked herself for thinking such a naive thought.
The culture shock really hadn't been as jarring as she'd anticipated it being. With the number of visitors the Crystal Empire got since its return, little bits of the outside world had crept their way in and made it possible for them to start learning about things. And the royal couple had done wonders for working to sate their curiosity about so many different things.
"Pretty much," her coworker, a unicorn maid by the name of Dust Bunny, confirmed and nodded like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Why? Does the Crystal Empire do things differently?"
"I guess you could say that?" Opal replied.
The change in culture had been one thing. The change in the commonly spoken language another. But the different ways each kingdom, really each palace, went about doing things like basic cleaning? That was what had really thrown her. And the sheer difference in terms of the scale of the respective palaces didn't really help that matter either.
That, and some of the palace residents made her feel really uneasy to be around.
"It's just..." she paused as she looked at the assignment sheet again, "the crystalline structure of the palace possessed a polarized charge that made it impossible for things like dust and graffiti paint to really stick to anything. Cleaning was more focused on textiles and the floors than things like... walls. And ceilings. And hanging light fixtures," she explained.
Dust Bunny -Dusty as she insisted on being called- couldn't help but give a friendly chuckle in response.
"That does sound nice. But sadly we savages up here in Canterlot have to do things the old-fashioned way," she stated. "Don't worry, though, the cleaning staff is well stocked with ponies. You'll do fine."
Opal could do little more than offer a friendly, appreciative smile. She was thankful that she wasn't alone in all of this, being thrown to the timberwolves as it were. At least for now, she'd be operating alongside the more experienced maids as they helped her learn the ropes of how things were done here in Canterlot.
It was a simple enough plan, a simple enough course of action. But one that was halted as they were approached by another pony -a stallion- coming down the hall that she didn't immediately recognize, but felt there was something familiar about him nonetheless.
"Oh. Hey there, Thunder," Dusty greeted in a friendly tone.
"Hello, Dust Bunny."
"Just Dusty is fine," Dusty all but insisted in a tone that suggested she'd had this exchange far too many times already. "You're looking better. How're you doing?"
"Doctor Malar said that I'm still not fit to return to duty yet," Thunder explained.
"Oh? Well that's too bad," Dusty replied, sounding genuinely unhappy about the news. "Maybe next time?"
"Perhaps. All I can do is keep trying," Thunder replied. "Dust Bunny, tell me something. Could you or the other maids on duty use an extra set of hooves?"
"Are you offering to help us with cleaning the palace?" Dusty asked, sounding uncertain if what she was hearing was accurate.
"Sitting around and doing nothing doesn't sit right with me. It feels wrong to not be occupied with work," Thunder replied in a non-answer.
"I don't really know," Dusty replied uneasily. "Opal, whadda you think about letting Thunder pitch in and lend a hoof?"
Opal blinked, only now remembering that she was actually there for the conversation and technically a part of it.
"I think he might look cute in a maid's dress," she replied without thinking, only to squeak in embarrassment and blush in response at hearing what she'd just said. "T-that wasn't what I meant to say!"
Regardless of her slip up, Dusty snorted and was reduced to a fit of giggles all the same. All the while Thunder didn't even quirk an eyebrow in response.
"Alright, Thunder, I'm sure we can find something you can do to help. Faust knows there's enough work to go around here," she stated once she composed herself. "Come on, we've got an entire palace to clean, and it's not going to clean itself!"
Thunder immediately snapped to attention in response and brought his right foreleg up in a salute. "Yes, Ma'am!"
"And cut that out! Ponies are going to stare if you do that," Dusty added.
All Opal could do in response was shake her head, and wonder if she she'd made the right choice in coming up here to work. Canterlot was... weird.
Celestia had seen a lot of things in her time as a ruler; that much went without saying. That just went with the territory of being an immortal alicorn. But what was presently before her really wasn't something that she could recall seeing before. She was fairly certain that something like this would stick out in her mind if it'd happened.
At the moment there were four very guilty looking maids all standing before her in her office.
Correction. Three guilty looking maids, and one imposter currently dressed up as a maid and looking as equally guilty as the rest of them.
"So then," she started as she slowly looked each of them over in turn. "Who wants to start and tell me what exactly happened here?"
The four silently looked at one another in an almost conspiratorial manner, as if psychically having a conversation about who was going to speak up first, and what they were going to say when they did.
Finally, one of the four stood themselves up a bit straighter and taller, before breaking the silence.
"It was all my idea, Your Highness," the imposter spoke up, in a voice that was far too deep to be any mare. "I take full responsibility."
She hadn't immediately known that the imposter was actually Thunder Strike in disguise at first, although she'd known that something was out of place and not quite right about the whole thing.
"Oh really now?" she asked him, not really believing a word of it.
The maid attire had gone a long way in disguising the bulkier aspects of his build and helping him more readily blend in with the rest of them. She could believe that he'd done that much by himself.
But his broader squared muzzle had been another story. It would've otherwise stuck out like a sore hoof under the hat he currently wore. But whoever had done his makeup had obviously known what they were doing. This wasn't some sloppy, inexperienced job by a first timer, but an expertly done application of just enough touches to convey a sense of femininity that would help hide the fact that he was a stallion.
Honestly, it'd taken her more time than she wanted to admit, to realize the truth for herself.
"Yes, Your Highness," he confirmed simply. "It was all my idea. The others had nothing to do with it."
Again, she didn't believe a word of it. But he wasn't really gibing the others an opportunity to speak up and contradict his account. So what could she really do?
"Alright then," she replied as she turned her attention to the others present. "The rest of you are free to go."
The maids looked between themselves, Thunder, and the door to her office, uncertain of what they should really do in response.
"I... can't do that, Princess," one of the maids spoke up. "M-my name is Posh Polish, and if Thunder is in any trouble, then I'm just as much at blame as he is. I'm the one that did his makeup," she admitted.
Celestia quirked an eyebrow at the admission.
"Oh really now?" she asked. "I certainly appreciate your honesty. And your willingness to step up and take the blame when you didn't need to. But I'm also quite curious. Why did you put Thunder in makeup to begin with?"
"W-w-well, Your Highness, it's like this. H-he was already in the getup when I came onto the scene and found him with some of the other maids. He... he honestly looked a little ridiculous like he was at the time, one thing lead to another, and when we had a few minutes in between duties we... got a little silly."
Celestia looked back over at Thunder again, and the state of his makeup. That had been done in the span of just a few minutes? If that were the case then Posh Polish's talent and skill was being wasted as a maid. But that was neither here nor there.
"So I can see," she replied. "I'll admit, I'm curious about why he's dressed like a maid to begin with. But more importantly, why was he found helping with the cleaning duties at the time of the incident?"
"... Because he volunteered to help us with our duties. Or at least that's what I heard when I met up with the others at the start of my shift," Polish explained.
"Oh, he did, did he?" Celestia asked as she slowly looked back at Thunder where he currently stood. "Very well then. I believe I've heard enough to get an understanding of what happened. The three of you are free to go now."
The three of them looked between themselves, and back at Thunder again, trying to figure out what their best course of action was. But right now there was really little that they could do besides heed and depart from the office.
Leaving only her and Thunder behind, once again.
"I certainly didn't see this one coming," she freely admitted. "Do you have anything you'd like to say on the matter?"
"I need to start saluting the cleaning staff a lot more, Your Highness. They deserve just as much respect as any member of the Royal Guard," Thunder stated simply as he tried to shift where he stood. "I underestimated just how hard their daily work really is. After six hours of working alongside them, they were still going strong like it was nothing for them, whereas I feel like I can barely even keep myself standing up right now."
Celestia had to stop herself from asking him why he hadn't spoken up sooner, knowing that there was no point in getting into that discussion right now. His stubborn refusal to heed his own weaknesses and simply not speak up when he was in need, was what got him into this mess in the first place. Retreading established ground wouldn't do any good.
Instead she simply grabbed the chair in front of her desk and levitated it over to where he stood, all but shoving it under him so he could sit down before he fell down. The fact that he didn't even try resisting as he flopped down really wasn't a good sign as far as she could tell.
"I'm glad you have respect for your coworkers and the work that they do. But that isn't what I was asking about," she clarified. "Why were you helping the cleaning staff with their assignments?"
The most immediate possibility that leapt to her mind was one of the maids being sick, and him deciding to pitch in and help pick up the perceived slack, much as he'd done with the other guards.
"It was the only thing I could think of to do," he stated simply, his gaze unfocused and not fixed on her as he spoke. "Doctor Malar said that I'm unfit to return to duty. That he'd be violating his oath if he let me return to work. That the only way I'll ever be fit to return is if I stop trying to be a Royal Guard all the time."
He paused, leaving her unsure if he was done talking or not, as he slowly raised his head to look at her.
"It seemed like it was a good idea at the time. If I can't perform my normal duties, then I can at least do something to be useful. Something other than standing around and doing nothing, all the while feeling useless while all others are busy working," he continued. "I understand that isn't actually the case, but every instinct is still telling me that my not working is undeniably wrong. It feels wrong to be walking the palace hallways while not having the familiar weight of my armor resting on my back. The flooring feels weird against my bare hooves when I walk on it. Everything about this is... I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Your Highness."
As he looked at her, Celestia really didn't know how she should respond. This wasn't exactly a plea for help coming from him, but it was probably the closest that she'd ever seen from him.
But the question was, just how was she supposed to help him in this case? Helping ponies was one thing, but helping a guard who didn't know how to be a pony was an entirely different matter.
"I understand that you feel you should be working, Thunder Strike," she started as she tried to search for just the right words to offer up. "And I wish I knew just what to say, that would help puts your instincts at ease, so you don't feel like you have to work yourself into the ground at all times."
Truth be told, she'd just about kill to get those words right now. Not just for him, but for anypony who found themselves in such a situation.
"If you don't mind my asking, Thunder Strike, why exactly are you dressed like a maid anyway?" she eventually asked him. "Helping with the cleaning, I can understand that much. But the getup has me confused."
"Ah, well..." Thunder paused, seeming to be genuinely confused and uncertain of what to say in response. "I really don't understand it myself, Your Highness. But some of the maids thought that it was a worthwhile idea, and it really wasn't my place to argue with them on the matter," he explained.
Celestia tried not to frown too hard in response to the statement about his casual acceptance of what'd happened to him. She was obviously going to need to say something at some point down the line... once she figured out what and to whom.
"I'll admit, the uniform is a lot more comfortable than I initially thought it might be," he added as he looked down at himself and shifted his position. "It's lightweight, it breathes, it flows freely as you move. It's a lot different from the armor I'm used to wearing. I guess that makes sense, seeing just how much physical work is done in them."
The effort to not frown suddenly morphed into trying not to laugh.
"Although... maybe I should have argued with them about it. If I had, the whole incident with Sergeant Kowalski might not've happened. Or at least not the way that it had," he continued.
Hearing this, she straightened up and got back to being serious. Now they were getting to the issue that had brought them all here in the first place.
"Yes. About that. I've already heard from the others who were there at the time, but I'd like to hear your account of what happened. I'm rather curious."
"We were... working in the palace's southern wing at the time. Sweeping and mopping floors, dusting and polishing light fixtures, scrubbing toilets, even changing bedding and fluffing pillows. It was all quite a physical workout; I haven't done work like that since my time at the Academy," he started, a faint hint of a brief smile forming on his lips, before suddenly vanishing like it wasn't even there. "It was all going well, other than my inability to keep pace with the maids I was working with. Up until we encountered Sergeant Kowalski. He wasn't the first Royal Guard we ran into during that time, which is concerning in itself since the first three we encountered didn't notice anything out of the ordinary."
"More on that later," Celestia interrupted, sensing that the conversation was about to go off topic if that line of discussion were allowed to continue. "Get back to Sergeant Kowalski."
He nodded, before continuing. "Unlike the other Guards we encountered, he actually spoke to us. Spoke with us. He and the others were having a casual conversation, asking them how their work was going, if they had any plans for later, things like that. I let them do the talking, because I honestly didn't know what to make of what I was seeing.
"And then he noticed me. He didn't even recognize me. He started talking to me, asking me questions, trying to start up a conversation. He was... he was fraternizing with us, Your Highness. Fraternizing with me. I was too stunned to even get a word out at what I was seeing. And by the time he got around to asking if I'd like to join him for drinks in the palace cantina after my shift, I... reacted."
"You reacted," Celestia started as she glanced down as the notes Raven had transcribed of Kowalski's account of what happened, "by suddenly addressing him like a Drill Sergeant and reciting regulations from memory?"
"We are the noble Royal Guard. Our duty is to serve and protect the ponies of Equestria; not merely within the confines of the palace, but also beyond its great walls. We aren't here to be socializing like a bunch of snot-nosed school-aged foals on a day trip," Thunder stated sternly.
Celestia was caught off guard at just how harsh the statement had been. Far harsher than anything she'd come to associate with Thunder in any sort of capacity. The sentiment behind his words really didn't feel like his own either. And combined with what'd happened previously... she really didn't like the implications behind any of it.
"Thunder Strike," she spoke up slowly, "as I've said before, I appreciate your dedication to your service. But in all of the centuries I've overseen the growth of the organization, not once have I ever done or said anything to suggest I expect the guards to not have social lives. I've even officiated quite a few weddings between guards who found love while serving. I have no idea what your definition of "fraternizing" might entail, but I can tell you that nopony has ever been reprimanded for having friends and loves ones."
It was only as she finished speaking, that an uncomfortable notion settled over her mind.
She remembered the last time he'd been in her office and said that he didn't have any friends. Something that was preposterous to consider, and quickly written off as him simply not understanding that ponies could be both friends and coworkers at the same time.
But in light of what she'd just heard, what if that wasn't actually the case?
Just the thought of something like that even being a possibility sent a chill up her spine. She'd really, really prefer not to think of the implications related to such a train of thought. But it was something she couldn't actually refrain from thinking about.
He was sitting right there. She could ask him for herself and get a definite answer. But at the same time she feared what that answer might prove to be. If she heard him say how he believed being a guard required him to live a solitary life devoid of any social contacts, she didn't know what she'd do. She already had to deal with the fact that he was sneaking around to do work he wasn't supposed to be doing, especially in his current condition.
But at the same time...
"You do know that you're allowed -and even encouraged- to have friends, right?" she asked.
"It's never come up before, Your Highness..." he replied simply.
The urge to groan and facehoof was tempered only by years of experience at maintaining a neutral expression, regardless of what she felt on the inside.
"Well you do have permission for it to come up," she clarified. "Now then. Why don't you see about getting some rest and something to eat? There were other matters that I wanted to discuss with you today, but after the day you've had I really don't believe right now is the appropriate time to get into that."
Thunder grunted in response, unable to suppress the noise as he slowly pushed himself up from his chair in order to stand up at attention once again.
"I can keep going, Your Highness," he insisted, doing his best to remain steady.
"I don't doubt that, Thunder Strike. I have no doubt you'd try and power your way through your current condition in the name of being a good guard. But I'd prefer to wait for you to be better off than you are currently, when your attention would otherwise be split between trying to stay upright and what's being discussed," she insisted. "Now please, worry less about trying to be a guard, and just take it easy. Get some rest, get some food, enjoy a hot bath and let your muscles relax for a change."
Briefly, she was certain that he was going to protest, try and insist that he was alright to have this discussion. The fact he kept his expression neutral throughout made it hard to tell exactly what his intentions were.
Finally, he responded.
"As you command, Your Highness," he stated, and had to fight to keep himself upright as he saluted her.
Yes, she was certain that now wasn't the right time.
Once he had made his way out the door, she opened a desk drawer to retrieve a separate piece of parchment, quill, and inkwell, before going to work.
"Dear Twilight," she read to herself as she began transcribing, "I'm afraid I have to report a slight delay in our plans..."
Finally free from the armor and trappings of office for the day, Lieutenant Lance was free to let out a long, well-earned groan of tiredness, frustration, and other assorted emotions.
A hot shower, and a stiff drink at the bar with the other guards was just what the doctor ordered for the evening, even if a little bit of hobbling was needed in order to get there.
Going by the sight waiting in the shower room, that being a fellow guard washing up, it seemed like that idea wasn't entirely unique. Although the amount of steam coming from the occupied area was a little unusual. As was the muttering and the furious scrubbing that could be heard over the running water. And that was just inviting curiosity.
"Hey, Sergeant."
The call did nothing to distract the periwinkle stallion from scrubbing himself down like he was actively trying to remove his own fur.
"Kowalski!" Lance called while trotting over. "What're you doing?"
Kowalski grunted in response. "Trying to get myself clean. I can still feel all kinds of filthy on me. It's creeping all along my coat, down on my skin!"
Lance's brow furrowed in confusion, and maybe a few other things as well.
"Sergeant, that's an unhealthy amount of hot water you're working with; you're a pony, not a lobster! Put down that soap, turn off that shower, and tell me what's going on here before you end up injuring yourself!"
The periwinkle stallion grunted in response, but had little option to comply with his superior, reluctantly doing as told as he stood there, sopping wet and looking quite haggard and none too happy.
"Now then. What's all this about? What's got you going all germaphobe like that?" Lance asked again.
Kowalski sighed, looking like he wanted to look anywhere but forward as he chewed on his bottom lip. It was only after a long moment of visibly uncomfortable hesitation that he spoke up again.
"I was talking with some of the palace maids earlier in the day. Asking how their day was going, seeing if they had plans after work, what they had in mind, etc. stuff like that. Then I noticed a new maid with them that I'd never seen around the palace before and tried to talk with her. I asked her if she wanted to join me for drinks tonight at the palace cantina.
"And the next thing I know, Lieutenant Strike is suddenly yelling at me about fraternization and a lack of decorum, and citing palace regulations by memory," he groaned.
"Okay, I'll admit that's a bit odd. Strike's always been uptight about following regulations, but he usually doesn't take others to task like that," Lance acknowledged. "And it really doesn't explain this, either."
"You don't understand, Lieutenant. He didn't find me flirting with the maids, he was the one I was flirting with!" Kowalski stressed.
"... Come again?" Lance asked.
"Lieutenant Strike was wearing a maid's uniform," he stressed, "and I didn't find out until he started speaking, after I'd already been flirting with him! I invited him to drinks and everything!"
Lance was, understandable, taken aback by this statement. Left trying to process what'd just been heard.
"Are we sure we're talking about the same pony here? Thunder Strike, the stallion who conducts himself like he's a living recruitment poster... he was wearing a dress?"
"And makeup," Kowalski stressed further. "And looking very convincing while doing it, too..."
Lance could only stand their dumbly while wearing a blank look, the very notion being far too much to properly comprehend. There was simply too much of a divergence between what was known, and what had just been heard.
Thunder Strike, the same stallion whose social life consisted of sitting down to dinner in the mess hall, and whose most significant relationship was with his own armor... had actually been wearing makeup and one of those frilly little dresses just like the maids? There was obviously only one appropriate response that could be had under these circumstances.
"PFFT!"
That being to laugh to the point of nearly toppling over backwards at just how utterly ridiculousness the entire notion of it all was.
All the while Kowalski stood there, dripping and scowling. "I'm so happy to know my embarrassment fills my superiors with such mirth..."
Lance slowly calmed down, bringing the laughter under control before responding.
"I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, Sergeant, I promise. It's just... Thunder dressed up like a maid? I just can't... was he cute?"
"He was unreasonably adorable..." Kowalski grumbled as his ears flattened against his skull in defeat. "The way the dress fit his frame, the quality of his makeup... it was all like a ghillie suit; the perfect camouflage for a trap just waiting to be sprung on unsuspecting prey."
"Huh. And I missed getting to see it for myself," was all Lance could say in response to Kowalski's evaluation. "Seven years of service with the Royal Guard, and the first private detail anypony learns about the stallion is that he's into cross dressing. Who would've thought?"
Kowalski merely gave a full-body shudder, before immediately turning the shower back on and resumed with his scrubbing once again.
A twinge ran through Doily's right wing as she trotted along, making her wish that she could retract them and tuck them back at her sides where they belonged. But she couldn't do that just yet.
For reasons that nopony knew for certain, Thunder hadn't shown up for dinner in the palace mess hall at the usual time. Which was unusual for him because he was always punctual at mealtime unless he was pulling a shift. But since he was still on medical leave and didn't have that excuse, it was a mystery.
So if he wasn't coming to dinner, then dinner would be coming to him in the form of a mess tray loaded with food resting on her left wing as she made her way to his quarters. Along with an identical tray on her right so he wouldn't have to eat alone by himself, because that was just depressing.
Finally she arrived at her destination and knocked at the door. She waited for a response, but none came.
Curious, she knocked again, a bit louder this time.
"Thunder? You in there?"
Still no response. More curious, and more than ready to let her wings back down, she tested the knob and found the door was unlocked. So she allowed herself into the room, which took a bit of careful maneuvering to pull off.
"Thunder?" she called again.
Yet again there was no response. Was he simply not here? Maybe she'd missed him and he'd simply attended dinner late?
It was a possibility. The past few days had thrown everypony out of sorts to some extent or another.
"I'll just leave his tray here. No sense hauling it all the way back."
And while she was here, she might as well sit down and enjoy her own dinner.
Moving to the couch, to set the trays down on the coffee table, she nearly tripped over herself at the sight of a fellow maid laying sprawled out on the floor on her back.
... On his back...
It took her a minute -or more- to piece together and finally figure out what she was seeing. And checking under the hem of the skirt to verify the cutie mark of the pony in question.
She hadn't been seeing things wrong. It was definitely Thunder Strike, dressed in a maid's uniform, and utterly passed out.
"What went on here?"
The twinge in her wing finally reminded her of why she was here in the first place, motivating her to set the trays down and finally tuck back in. And now with that done, she could focus more on this other matter.
"Thunder," she spoke up as she gently nudged his side to try and rouse him. "Come on, wake up."
The only response she got was his continued slumber of a minor snort, showing that he was still alive but completely out of it.
On the one hoof, she could simply let him rest, because he probably needed it. But on the other hoof she was extremely curious about these developments, and wanted answers.
"Hey, Thunder, wake up," she called louder and started to shake him more vigorously.
It took time, but her efforts finally paid off as he grunted in response and slowly cracked an eye open to look at her.
"Doily?" he asked slowly, uncertainly, and pausing as he tried to stretch out. "What's... going on?"
"You didn't show up for dinner, so I brought yours so you could eat," she explained. "Do you mind telling me why you're laying on the floor and wearing a dress?"
She stepped back to give him adequate room to sit himself up, as he slowly climbed up to sit on his haunches and look at her.
"Could you repeat the question?" he asked.
"Why're you wearing a dress?" she asked again.
He yawned as he slowly looked down at his frame as if he were trying to register what she was saying for himself.
"I guess I fell asleep before I could change out of it," he surmised.
"Okay?" But why were you wearing a dress in the first place?" she asked again. "I mean, I'm not trying to be nosy or anything; it's not like you have to explain anything to me, I'm just really curious. This is... not what I was expecting."
"I was helping some of the maids with their duties today, since I wasn't fit to return to my own duties as a Royal Guard," he explained simply. "Since I was helping with maid duties, some of them thought that I should look the part. And I didn't really see any point in arguing with them, since they know better about their work than I would."
"Oh," she replied, not certain what to do with that information. And also curious why such a development hadn't made its way through the palace grapevine to her at the time. "Well, thank you for thinking about us like that."
"I don't think that I'll be able to do it a second time, however. I never anticipated just how physically demanding being a maid would actually be. It's far more labor-intensive than being a Guard," he stated.
Doily found herself smiling at the compliment found in his words. How many stallions whose job essentially required them putting their life on the line, would actually say something like that about a little cleaning?
Granted, he could be feeling that way simply because of his physical condition, but it was still nice to hear.
"Well, be that as it may, how about dinner? You look like you could use it."
The only response she got was a weak nod as he stood up again, doing his best to not tremble under the strain of supporting his own weight. She wanted to frown, idly wondering just what he'd gone through. But questions like that would interfere with eating and she was hungry.
Fortunately he made it to the couch without issue. She passed him his tray, before taking hold of her own and sitting down on the opposite end to dig in.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him watching her in a rather curious fashion; like he was trying to discern not only what she was doing, but what he should be doing himself. He kept looking over at her, and down at his tray on his lap in confusion, before finally digging in awkwardly. It was almost like he... didn't actually know how to eat outside of a mess hall setting or something.
Holly's assessment from last night was starting to look more credible as the evening went along.
They ate in a companionable silence, all the while a lot of questions brewed in her mind that wanted to be asked. What maids had he worked with? What sort of assignment had they stuck him with that left him so tired? Who had done his makeup? The last one especially, because she really doubted he'd done it himself!
But they could wait for later. Food now, inquiry later, rest after that. Provided nothing had changed between this morning and now.
"So..." she started slowly as she watched him down a radish in a single bite. "Are we still good for tonight? For me staying over the night, like we discussed?"
Thunder looked back at her, before nodding in response, as he currently had his mouth too full to talk.
"Okay, good," she replied, "what say after you eat, I help you get your makeup off? It's not the easiest thing to get off of white fur if a pony doesn't know what they're doing."
"It isn't?" he asked, genuinely surprised and confused by the statement. "Best to trust in the experts, then."
She was hardly an expert. But right now it wasn't worth getting into the petty, nitty gritty details like that. If he thought that he could trust her her, who was she to tell him otherwise?
The rest of the meal passed in companionable silence, it being broken up only by the sounds of their respective chewing as they ate together.
Once the meal had finally concluded, it was time to get started on the next part of the evening.
"Alright. If you could stand up, please."
Getting Thunder undressed had been an easy enough task to perform, if a little bit awkward. Getting his makeup off without working it deeper into his fur and staining it had taken a bit more effort to perform, but had been done all the same.
"So whose uniform is this, anyway?" she asked as she regarded the garment currently draped over the couch
"I'm not really sure. I think it was just a spare that was kept on hoof in storage?" Thunder replied uncertainly.
"Maybe," she replied and shrugged. It wasn't exactly like their uniforms were custom-tailored to their frames for maximum fit, so it was anypony's guess. "Anyway, I'll get it to the laundry when I take the trays back to the kitchen."
"I can help with that," he offered as he silently stood himself up straighter.
"Oh no you don't, your service as a maid is done," she giggled and shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but you look like even standing up is a bit much for you right now. You don't need to be running around, doing our work for us. You've already done plenty as is."
"It still doesn't feel like I've done enough," he admitted reluctantly. "I feel... useless. Like I'm just standing in place and watching on while other ponies around me move from one task to another, doing work that I could be doing myself. Like I'm a... union hire."
Doily wanted to groan and facehoof, but she resisted the urge to follow through with such a gesture.
"Thunder," she started, but paused as she tried to think of what to say. "What would it take, for you to feel like you've done enough work? What would you have to do, to feel like you've earned taking some time off for yourself?"
He didn't immediately answer. And going by the look on his face, she didn't know if he even knew how to answer. It was like she'd just presented him with such a wildly random concept, that his brain had no way of processing it. In a different context it might look cute, but not right now.
"I... don't know..." he eventually admitted slowly. And after a long pause, he continued. "I spent most of my life dreaming about being in the Royal Guard. I never actually stopped to think about... about what might happen after that."
Doily winced, finding his answer painful to hear. This time she really couldn't resist the urge to sigh in response. Stuff like this was why she'd dropped out of her psychology class back in school; it was just too heavy for her to work with. Whatever help Thunder needed, it was well above her pay grade. All that she could really do was be a friend to him right now.
So with that in mind, she did the one thing that she really could do under the circumstances. That being walk over to him, and pull him into a hug, both with forelegs around his neck, and with wings unfurled to drape onto his back.
The fact that he slowly returned the hug by wrapping a foreleg around the back of her neck was a lot more than she'd been expecting out of him. This morning he'd been like a statue in this situation, completely unresponsive to the gesture. So at least it was something.
"Alright," she spoke up, "I'll go ahead and take these things back to where they belong. Then I'm going to swing by my quarters and pick up a book I've been reading before I come back here; it's still a little too early for me to turn in, but you can go ahead and rest if you want. And don't let me catch you sleeping on the floor again when I come back. Understand?"
He nodded as he slowly released her, allowing them to untangle and disengage.
The room was largely silent, other than the occasional sound of paper shuffling, and steady but quiet breathing. That suited Doily just fine.
True to his word -or rather his nod- Thunder hadn't been asleep on the floor when she had returned from the last of her late-night duties/errands.
Much to her pleasant surprise -and even a bit of relief- he'd been up on the bed, and once again fast asleep by the time she'd walked back into the room.
Her statement to him previously had been -mostly- in jest, as they both knew that she had no authority with which to actually order him around. If he'd chosen to ignore what'd been said and sleep on the floor like a dog again, there really wasn't much she could've done other than wake him up, or just let him continue laying there.
But since that wasn't the case, that left her free to get set up on the couch where the lighting was currently better for reading, stretch out comfortably as far as she might like to, and get onto the next chapter of her book.
It wasn't until twenty minutes and several pages in, that something sounded inside the room and served to catch her attention.
She glanced up, scanning her surroundings for sight of what she might've heard, but saw nothing out of place. Maybe Discord was about and being a dick? It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like that to palace staff out of boredom.
Eventually she simply wrote it off and returned to her book. Only to hear the same noise not even a full paragraph later.
Getting immersed in the story wasn't going to be a possibility if she kept getting distracted by random noises popping up. So with a bookmark secured in place, she kept her head up and ears on a swivel, waiting to see if it happened again, and if she could track it down.
It was heard again, not even a full minute later. But this time she had a better idea of where it was coming from and turned her attention to the bed where Thunder laid, before climbing down and making her way over to it.
He was still asleep, still in the same position he'd been in when she'd arrived. But he was periodically twitching in his sleep, with odd noises occasionally accompanying. Maybe he was simply dreaming?
"Verzeihen..." was mumbled out, but what it meant was a mystery to her.
He might've been asleep right now, but he certainly didn't look like he was resting comfortably. And going by the clock on the wall, it was still too early for Princess Luna to be making her rounds. So whatever he was facing in there, he was facing it alone.
"Well now. That won't do."
Going back over to tuck her book under her wing, she climbed onto the bed and carefully laid herself down next to him. She then, very carefully, nestled herself in against his frame, pressing up against him.
Two seconds into the contact, he reacted to her presence by draping a foreleg over her barrel and holding onto her tightly. Not exactly what she was expecting, but not exactly unpleasant either. But as he let out a sigh through his nostrils and grew still, it seemed to be just what he'd needed. In a way it was sort of adorable, seeing him able to relax like he was.
The positioning she was in wasn't exactly ideal for what she'd wanted to get done this evening, but her reading could still continue; she just had to scoot and reposition a little bit to make herself more comfortable, before retrieving her book.
And then, as she got back to where she was previously, an idea presented itself to her.
"What do you say, Thunder? Would you like to hear a story?"
She started back on the previous paragraph, reading aloud but still keeping her voice soft and low so as to not outright disturb his rest. Maybe it might give him something he could work with for having a better dream.
"She looked into his eyes, two icy-blue windows that led down into the depths of his soul, and instantly knew that he was a stallion of exceptional character..."
Twenty minutes into the narration, and Doily had to stop to lick her lips, idly wishing that she had a glass of water to wet her throat with. Reading aloud for so long, even in a whispery tone, really did have an evaporative effect on the inside of the mouth.
It was an easy enough problem to address, if not for the fact that Thunder was still sound asleep, and showing no signs of wanting to disengage his hold on her. She might've been able to slip out without disturbing him, but there was no way of telling for sure. And honestly, he looked so peaceful right now that waking him up seemed like a lousy course of action to take.
Sighing to herself, she marked her book and closed it again, before setting it aside for the time being. She'd just lay down for a bit and try to relax.
But just as she fully laid down on the bed, she felt Thunder's leg move as he began to stir, leading to him slowly opening his eyes.
"Hey," she greeted him softly.
"Doily?" he asked wearily as he looked like he was trying to gather his bearings. "What... what happened?"
"You took a little nap while I was out," she replied, "and got a bit clingy in your sleep."
She could practically see the realization forming in his head at her words, before he slowly withdrew his foreleg from across her barrel.
"I apologize..." he stated as he tucked the limb in against his side, like he was afraid to let it anywhere near her.
The stallion's propensity for apologizing for his actions, his perceived and believed infractions and deficiencies, was hardly a secret amongst the palace staff. But to actually watch him apologizing for being in need of comfort in a moment when he was at his weakest and most vulnerable in the middle of a nightmare, essentially apologizing for being a pony... well that just wouldn't do.
No, that wouldn't do at all.
She resisted the urge to frown as she shook her head, and did the one thing that she could think of in this situation; that was grabbing him and pulling him into another hug.
"There's nothing wrong with ponies hugging a willing participant. Especially not when you're in the middle of a nightmare and Princess Luna can't help. Understand?" she asked, briefly pulling back to look him in the eyes, before hugging him once again. "Ugh! Just how badly did your parents screw you up when they yelled at you?"
It was only after the words had actually left her mouth, did she realize that she'd spoken the question aloud, rather than thinking it to herself. Much to her embarrassment. Now she was the one who needed to apologize.
And then she felt his hooves on her, as he slowly pushed them apart so he could look at her, all the while looking utterly confused.
"... My parents?" he asked her slowly. "I... don't have any parents."
Doily paused, it now being her turn to be confused by his statement. That had come entirely out of left-field.
"You... you don't?" she asked him. "But you said... w-well then who yelled at you for letting another pony sleep in your bed with you?"
"The staff at the orphanage," he stated simply.
She looked at him yet again. That'd been a curve ball she really hadn't seen coming. It was also another reminder of why she'd dropped her psychology course back in school. There was way too much guesswork and uncertainty involved, and made a definitive answer just about impossible to achieve.
"Oh..." she replied slowly, "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I thought that... well, what I thought was wrong. It never occurred to me that you might be an orphan too."
"... Too?" Thunder asked as he looked back at her again. "As in you were also an orphan?"
Doily nodded in response. "Yeah. Dumped and raised over in the Las Pegasus area. Gentle Soul's Sanctuary for Wayward Youths. How about you?"
"Um, Clydesdale Valley. Madam Heart's Home for Abandoned Foals," he replied.
"Huh. Nice name. Very lisp-friendly," she remarked, before propping her head up on a foreleg. "So how old were you when it happened? Er, the yelling I mean."
"I was... about nine, I think? Maybe ten. I don't really remember for sure exactly," he explained.
"Seriously?" she asked incredulously. They had actually told him he was too old to share a bunk when he was only nine years old? "Dude, your orphanage was staffed by jerks!"
It was a topic that she really didn't want to linger on for too long. Orphanage staff could be such a hit or miss when it came to whether or not they actually cared about the well being of their charges. Faust knew her own experiences weren't the best when it came to the ponies who looked after them. But getting down into the nitty-gritty of that and comparing notes really wasn't what she wanted to do tonight.
"I know it's not any of my business, so feel free to tell me to shut up if you want. But a minute ago you said you didn't have any parents. Were you talking about birth parents? Or did you mean you didn't get adopted?"
"Either one, I suppose," he replied in a tone of voice she couldn't quite place as he slowly sat up on the bed. "I lived at the orphanage until I aged out of the system. What about you?"
She shook her head in response. "Adopted when I was eight, before I got my cutie mark. For what it's worth, I'm sorry you weren't. Growing up in an orphanage sucks."
The fact that he didn't really respond to her assessment, somehow made her assessment hurt all the worse.
"What's it like?" he eventually asked. "Being adopted. What's it like?"
Now there was a heavy question. One she hadn't been expecting, but probably should have.
"Way different in my case. You get your own room. Your own bed. Your own bathroom; technically it's just the upstairs bathroom, but if you don't have to share it with anypony it might as well be yours. Much better quality of toilet paper. The food... eh, you at least get more variety to pick from; it's not all the cheapest stuff on the market. Nopony comes in and pilfers your little treasure trove of stuff you've hoarded away for yourself. There's no waking up at two in the morning to the sound of somepony in the next cot over puking on the floor because they're sick and now everypony else is gonna get sick!"
She stopped herself short of going into details about what birthdays and Hearthswarming were like. There was eventually a point when it stopped being informative to compare notes, and just became a matter of flexing on somepony by going on about what you had that they didn't. And from the sounds of it, he didn't have anything while growing up.
"Did you at least get a courtesy cone while you were there?"
"A... what now?" he asked, looking at her like she'd just broken into speaking a language he wasn't familiar with.
"A courtesy cone," she repeated. "Kind of a slang term, it's what we called when prospective parents looking to adopt would take a foal out to a local ice cream place and treat you to something cheap and simple, before taking you back to the orphanage because you just weren't quite what they were looking for. It was a way for the nicer ones to say sorry for getting your hopes up before disappointing you by dumping you off again. Happened a lot in Las Pegasus."
"Oh," Thunder replied in understanding, before shaking his head. "No."
"What!?" Doily asked incredulously as she sat up on the bed. "They didn't? You mean not even once? That's just low. The least anypony could've done for you was treat you to one lousy courtesy cone to apologize for disappointing you after getting your hopes up like that! Those cheap bastards!"
His orphanage was staffed by jerks. Clydesdale Valley was filled with jerks. That was the only way to explain what she was hearing. What sort of degenerates would actually do something like that? Surely that had to be against at least one law that was on the books, right?
The more she thought about it, the madder she ended up feeling as a result. There was just so much wrong with the whole arrangement.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, and seeing it was just before ten PM, she knew what she had to do. She knew, and she was going to do just that. Like a mare with purpose, she climbed down off the bed.
"You know what, Thunder? Come with me."
Thunder, like the obedient guard he was, followed her off the bed.
"You and I are going to have a little fun tonight. Just you and me..."
There were nights when a lack of petitioners in the available night court slot was an annoyance to Luna, and could be interpreted as a sign of their little ponies not valuing her counsel.
And then there were nights like tonight, where the growling in her stomach made her very thankful for having no petitioners seeking her counsel. Breakfast just hadn't been as filling as she'd hoped it would be, and hadn't stuck with her nearly as long as it should have.
And if she was going to weather a night of overseeing the dreams of needy ponies, she was going to need a little something extra from the kitchen to see her through the upcoming long stretch of work so she could properly concentrate.
Right now a sandwich was sounding mighty appealing. A couple of slices of bread, each of them covered in a generous helping of creamy peanut butter, with a drizzling of honey and a sliced banana situated firmly between them would definitely hit the spot.
It would also spare her from all the effort needed in trying to actually cook something up at the moment. She didn't need the frustration, and nopony needed to be saddled with that level of mess at this hour.
"Urgh!"
But before she could set hoof through the swinging double doors of the palace kitchen, she was alerted by a sound. A sound like a pony who was in pain and trying not to yell out in response to being in pain.
She knew it was on the other side of the doors, but that was all she knew. Curious, she pressed her ear to one of the doors to try and hear what was going on.
"I told you to slow down," she heard one voice clearly say.
"You were right, I should have," another voice replied. "But it's just so good!"
Now her curiosity was growing. She recognized those voices, but she didn't understand the context behind them. And she really wasn't getting any answers out here, only wasting time that could be better spent eating.
Slowly pushing the doors open, she poked her head into the room and glanced around to try and find the source of the voices, and figure out just what she might be interrupting if she entered the room.
The sight of two ponies lounging in the kitchen and treating it like the palace break room wasn't all that unusual of a sight; she'd both seen it, and even done it herself, quite a few times over the years. But the fact that Thunder Strike was one of them, leaning back against the industrial fridge while shoveling ice cream into his face? Now that was unusual!
There he was, sitting in the company of another pony as they worked in tandem to demolish what looked like a quart of ice cream, and some other assorted foodstuffs positioned between them. And perhaps even stranger than the sight of him acting like a pony seeking a late-night snack, was the fact that he actually looked... happy while doing it, as he sat there with a spoon cocked at an odd angle in his mouth and was actually murring around it. He honestly looked like he was smiling.
"Told you so," the pony sitting next to him stated while she scooped out another spoonful out of the container for herself, before popping it into her mouth. "Bar none, Canterlot has the best ice cream in Equestria."
Thunder simply nodded in silent agreement as he hurriedly swallowed, before going in for another spoonful to pop into his mouth.
Luna blinked, and then smiled at the adorable sight before her. And now that she was certain she wasn't intruding on anything indecent, she fully entered the room.
But the moment the doors sounded as they swung shut, Thunder's head all but snapped around to catch sight of her. His eyes went wide with surprise, and he inhaled so sharply, it was only thanks to his companion's quick wits and reflexes that he didn't end up accidentally swallowing his spoon in the process.
It was like a switch had been flipped. His whole happy demeanor from seconds ago had practically evaporated before her eyes, as the Lieutenant portion of his identity had taken the forefront and reasserted itself. And all from her simply walking into the room in order to get something to eat...
"At ease, Thunder Strike, at ease," she insisted. "I am only here to get something to eat; not to conduct a surprise inspection to look for acts of wrongdoing. What you and the rest of the staff may do in your off-time is none of my business."
Despite her efforts he didn't look convinced. It took longer than it should have for him to realize that he could put his hoof back down again, and even then he still remained at full attention. How he didn't break himself in half doing stuff like that was beyond her. Although his companion had no such reservations and easily went back to slouching.
"By all means, please go back to what you were doing. I will not be here for long," she insisted. "But if I may ask, what were the two of you doing when I walked in?"
"We... we were..." he tried to answer, but seemed unable to get the words out.
"Eating rocky road ice cream, and raw cookie dough straight from the tube," his companion answered with much less effort and hesitancy in her words. "Thunder never got anything like that while growing up, not even plain vanilla if you can believe that, so I decided to treat him to some delicacies he missed out on. Turns out he kinda missed out on a lot."
Luna wasn't exactly certain how those particular foods counted as delicacies, or even when such a reclassification would've occurred. But those details weren't particularly necessary right now. What intrigued her far more was what she'd seen, and what it meant overall.
"You do not say. That is very kind of you," she replied before turning back to Thunder. "And have you been enjoying the experience, Thunder Strike?"
"Oh he definitely has been," his companion stated, not even giving him the chance to speak for himself. "You should've seen the look on his face when the first spoonful of ice cream hit his tongue, Princess. It was one of pure and utter bliss. He's gotten brain freeze three times since we started, and he just keeps going back for more!"
Taking a page from her sister's book, Luna resisted the urge to frown. She would've preferred to hear the answer from Thunder directly. But the way he physically flinched at the question, acting as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing, she wasn't certain that would even be possible.
She would simply take what she could get, and settle for it. Even if the information was second-hoof, it was still good to hear overall.
"Has he now? I remember doing the same thing my first time around encountering such delectable confectioneries. My first night back I wholeheartedly devoured an entire gallon of cookie dough ice cream in one sitting by myself, all the while gladly taking a figurative ice pick through the skull because the taste was unlike anything I had ever experienced."
Thunder seemed entirely uncertain of how to respond to her little tale of past experiences, or even if he should take part in the ongoing exchange. Until finally he turned to look back at his companion.
"Cookie dough ice cream is a thing?"
"Oh, you'd better believe it's a thing. Ponies take their desserts very seriously," she nodded and chuckled.
"Your friend is quite correct on that point, Thunder Strike," Luna agreed. "Now, as much as I would like to continue this conversation, and hear about you opening up to experiencing new things with the help of a good friend, I simply cannot do that right now. I must soon start patrolling the dreams of ponies, and I must get something to eat before I do that. Otherwise I will be too hungry and distracted to be of use to anypony."
Thunder and Doily stood by, watching silently as Luna went about securing various ingredients and assembling herself a sandwich in accordance with a rhyme and reason that only she seemed to truly understand, in a manner that promised to be quite messy if one weren't exercising caution as they went along.
"Have a pleasant evening, you two," she called as she departed, sandwich in tow as she left the kitchen just as easily as she'd entered.
"Huh," Doily eventually mumbled, "well that was... kinda weird."
"Doily?"
Her thoughts on just how weird it was to have a snacking session crashed by one of the princesses themselves, were interrupted by Thunder eventually speaking up, bringing her attention back to him.
"Yeah?"
"Are we friends?"
She looked back at him, not entirely certain what he was asking. But when she saw the genuinely uncertain and confused look on his face, she understood. He honestly didn't know what the answer was for himself, and was looking to her for help.
Rhetorically asking him why he might think otherwise, and have reason to believe that they might not be friends, just felt like it'd be adding insult to injury at this point. And he was already injured enough as it was; she didn't need her failed psych classes to tell her that much.
"Yeah. We are," she replied and nodded, doing her best to present him with a warm smile. "You opted to sleep on the floor when Holly and I came over to spend the night, because you were worried about us being comfortable during our stay. And even after working yourself almost to death, you still put on a dress and makeup, and helped us maids do our everyday duties. If that's not a friend, then I honestly don't know what is."
She was thankful he nodded in response, seemingly understanding what she was saying and being good with it, rather than trying to continue the discussion.
"Now, what say we get back to what we were doing before everything happened? We've still got a lot of ice cream and cookie dough to get through before all is said and done."
Again, Thunder nodded in response as he sat back down. "I can do that."
Doily smiled as the focus returned to the treats. It was a relieved sort of smile, thankful that he'd seen fit to leave well enough alone for the time being. As much as she'd like to help him, to be able to help him, there was only so much she actually could do for the stallion.
So for the time being, as he now turned his attention to the tube of cookie dough that was being shared, she'd do what she actually could do and simply keep him company. If nothing else, at least he'd have that.
It was a given fact that ponies were a very social species. That was simply a scientifically proven and immutable fact of the world, in the same vein as fire being hot, water being wet, milk chocolate being the most delicious, and Joe having the best raspberry jelly doughnuts to be found in the city of Canterlot.
"You want to know what I heard?"
It was also a given fact that with a sizable enough gathering of ponies, small talk would eventually be made, and this would inevitably lead to gossip being traded back and forth at any given moment of opportunity to hash over who had heard what, with information and rumors to varying degrees of legitimacy being swapped like the common cold.
"They didn't even have the decency to look for a private room first! They were snogging right there in the hallway like animals! Can you believe it?"
And it was a given fact, that location made almost no discernible difference on whether or not the first two facts were in play on any given day. Chatter was going to be chattered, whether it be the quiet streets of Ponyville, or within the palace walls; as it was unfolding currently as ponies traded talk like it was black market goods and currency.
"I heard it from the senior groundskeeper himself. He has it on good authority from the night shift's cook that the guy was actually asleep right on the library floor, book resting on his face and everything."
It was this same black market of illicit gossip being traded in between work being done, that Doily trudged her way into with a bit less pep in her step than usual as she made her way to her duty assignment. Her ears had been flicking back and forth, picking up a whispered sentence here, and a part of a conversation there, but never enough to make out exactly what anypony was saying.
And right now, she was just fine with that. Her work, while tedious and boring to some, was routine and gave her something she could focus on. Dust. Wipe. Polish. All simple enough to perform, all very routine in structure, all requiring her paying attention to do right. For two long hours, she wasn't required to think about anything except the work that was right in front of her.
"Hey Doily."
Up until she became aware of the presence of another in the area and addressing her.
"Hey Steam Clean," she grunted in response, not even pausing in her dusting to address the other pony directly.
"I heard something very interesting this morning," Steam stated, her voice practically conveying a grin as she spoke. "One of the guards is a transvestite."
"So they belong to one of those new goofy religions that pops up. So what?" she asked, far more interested in getting the light fixture before her cleaned, than where this discussion might've been going from its start.
"No, it's not like that; one of the guards wears a dress," Steam clarified.
"Steam, like, a quarter of the guards here are mares. On top of that, this is Canterlot where ponies normally wear clothes. I'd be more surprised if they didn't wear a dress from time to time."
"I don't think you're getting me, Doily. It's not one of the mares, it's one of the stallions. One of the guys here is wearing a dress and going around looking like a pretty mare," Steam stated.
Doily's attention slowly diverted from the task in front of her as she listened to Steam talking.
"Oh yeah?" she asked. "By chance did you... happen to hear which guard it was that's... looking pretty?"
"Oh you bet I did," Steam replied, "Lieutenant Strike."
Doily couldn't exactly pause her wing flaps in response to this statement and still remain aloft. So instead she simply paused her efforts at dusting, as she tried to focus and listen closer to where this whole thing might've been going.
"I heard he finally cracked under all the pressure and was found wearing makeup and parading around-"
The discussion was halted as Doily stopped flapping her wings, dropping herself down to floor level with a thud of a landing to silence the gray-coated mare with the Fleur de Lis-shaped body before another syllable could be uttered.
"For your information, the reason Thunder was in a dress was because he was wearing a maid's uniform," she stated.
Steam Clean hesitantly took a step back in response to the sudden assertiveness being demonstrated before her.
"And do you know why Thunder was in a maid's uniform in the first place?" Doily asked, before continuing without first waiting for her to answer. "Because he'd volunteered to help us maids do our work, and some of them got the bright idea to dress him for the part."
Steam wanted to speak up, but couldn't get a word in edge-wise as Doily continued.
"And why was he helping us out with our work? Because that chronic workaholic of a stallion couldn't do his own job. And rather than lounge around on his medical leave like some would, he opted to make himself useful to somepony else instead. He spent the better part of the day running himself into the ground trying to help us out, even though he wasn't physically up to it.
"So I'd appreciate it, if you didn't go around spreading inappropriate rumors about Thunder like that. You got that?"
"Y... y-yeah. Sure," Steam replied slowly, dumbfounded by the sheer assertiveness she was witnessing. "Do you mind if I ask you something, though? You never used to act like this before when it came to gossip; you enjoyed it as much as anypony. But now you're being defensive all of the sudden. What changed?"
"... What changed is that I actually got to know him, and make friends with him, Steam," Doily explained with a soft sigh as she adjusted her glasses. "Thunder's not just some random name that's attached to a muscly body with a cute butt, you know? He's a pony; a very nice, caring stallion who just wants to do his job and help others. He's..." she paused, trying to think of what to say to explain what she'd seen.
"Ohh..." Steam replied slowly, the tone of the word suggesting that she understood. "Okay, I get you. You two're banging, and you don't want anypony talking bad about him."
Doily's immediate impulse was to sputter in surprise and loudly deny the accusation for all it was worth. But she managed to resist the impulse, and opted for a calmer, more civilized route.
"We're not sleeping together, Steam. We're just friends..."
"Uh-huh..." Steam replied, not sounding the least bit convinced. "Friends with benefits, from the sound of it."
"No," Doily replied, perhaps a bit more forcefully than she should've. "It's... not like that."
"Oh no? Well then what's "it" like?" Steam asked.
A sensation working its way up her spine, was suggesting that she'd said far more than she should've in the first place.
She blamed Steam Clean for this entire predicament. Amongst the many ponies serving as the cleaning staff of the palace, she was something of an outlier. While on duty she could be every bit as proper as the rest of them when it came to doing her job.
While simultaneously being crass, and not the least bit shy about knocking back beers and belching with the rowdiest of stallions who worked there during her off-hours. It was all very off-putting.
"Thunder and I are just friends," she repeated again. "I'm just helping him work through a few issues he's having right now, that's all."
"Issues?" Steam asked curiously. "Like what?"
Doily hesitated, weighing whether or not she wanted to get into this discussion. It could really go either way if she ended up saying the wrong thing, and she knew that fact full well.
"Thunder didn't give me the okay to tell anypony about this, so you can't either, alright? What I'm about to tell you, doesn't go any further than the two of us? You got that?"
Left unsaid was the fact that Thunder hadn't told her not to tell anypony. But that was just splitting hairs.
Curious and confused, Steam nodded and leaned in to listen/hear better.
"Like I said, we're not sleeping together; not in the sense you're thinking of. But we are sharing a room together," she admitted.
"Oh?" Steam asked.
She nodded. "Princess Celestia thought it was best to move him to some private quarters while he's on medical leave; somewhere away from his fellow guards so he can focus on his recovery rather than worrying about his work. But like I said, he's got issues. He apparently can't sleep in a room all by himself because it's too quiet; he's too accustomed to the sounds of other ponies being around. So I've been crashing there with him for a couple of nights, keeping him company and providing background noise so he can rest."
"Huh," Steam replied in an uncertain tone. "So how did you get saddled with... what would you call it... being a foalsitter and a white noise machine?"
"I was simply available at the time of being asked," Doily explained. Left unsaid was that it'd been Holly who'd done the asking, but that wasn't important right now. "If it hadn't been me, somepony else would've been asked instead."
"How charming," Steam commented sarcastically. "He certainly sounds like the type who knows how to make a mare feel special."
Doily frowned in response to the snide comment, ready to go into explaining how Thunder had opted to sleep on the floor so she and Doily could be comfortable on the bed and couch, but stopped just short of actually doing that. There was no need to go into that right now, even if it would shut her up.
"The first night was a simple matter of convenience and availability; he needed somepony, I just happened to be available. The night after that, however, was my own choice, because I got to know him and found out he's a very nice stallion. I even got to be friends with him," she explained. "We spent a good portion of the night sitting up and just talking to one another."
"Oh? And what sort of grand boisterous tales did he happen to regale you with, by chance? Adventure? Danger? Something to try and charm you with?" Steam asked.
"Well if you really must know," Doily started, before signaling for her to come closer, letting her lean in to whisper her answer. "He uses sea serpent wax to maintain the luster of his armor."
Steam pulled back, looking at her in confusion. "Say what now?"
"Yeah. Thunder really wasn't all that big on talking about himself. His armor maintenance was pretty much all that I got out of him," Doily explained. "He was too busy being captivated as I regaled him with stories of what it was like growing up, to share anything about himself. He was pretty much content to just sit quietly and listen while I talked. The only time he really spoke up was to ask the occasional question. It was... kind of nice, actually, him being interested like he was, in hearing such boring stuff."
"You don't say," Steam replied with a bit of a smile playing on her lips. "So what sort of stuff had him so utterly fascinated?"
"Like I said, what it was like growing up," Doily stated and shrugged. "What my friends were like, what was school like, what we'd do for fun, etc. All the while he's just sitting there, looking like he's hanging onto every word and paying full attention to what I have to say; like it's the most interesting thing he's ever heard before in his life."
"And you didn't find that the least bit... creepy? Stalker-y? To have him so fascinated by stories about you growing up? And asking questions like that?" Steam asked.
The urge to frown returned again. But Doily resisted the urge and continued. She knew better. She knew for herself. Steam didn't have a clue what the context was, nor did she need to know it.
"Not at all," she replied and shook her head.
The only discomfort she actually had felt during their late-night talk, had stemmed from the sense that she was flaunting her good fortune by making him aware of what he didn't have while growing up; like she was one of those spoiled brats who taunted orphans for their own amusement.
But he had assured her that wasn't the case. Not so much with words, but the look on his face as he listened to her talk about such trivial things like which brand of cookie had the most chocolate chips, and bandaids that came in colors other than tan, and games of hide-and-seek with other foals who actually tried to find you. He had wanted to hear more about things he hadn't experienced for himself.
He'd had very little to offer up in exchange. And what little he had divulged during their conversation had tended to be about anything but himself. The orphans he'd grown up with at the orphanage, the recruits he'd trained with at the academy, and even the royal guards he served with at the palace, but nothing relating to himself even in a general sense.
In the end that was more or less why she'd done most of the talking last night, indulging his apparent interest by telling him about her experiences of moving from orphan to adopted and just how different it'd all been, until it was late in the evening and neither one of them was really up to staying awake any longer.
"He's a very nice stallion. He just... has a few issues he needs help with," she concluded.
"... And you're going to help him?" Steam asked.
Doily quickly shook her head in response. She knew that she was in no way qualified to be providing Thunder with the sort of help that he needed. And there was no shame in admitting to that fact.
"He's a pony whose whole life seemingly revolves around his work. I'm going to help him by being his friend, which is something he needs more than anything right now."
She had ultimately washed out of her psych classes when she was younger, because she was simply unable to deal with and persevere through the resulting psychological stress that such studies brought. But even she understood just how powerful having a friend could be.
And going by the way he talked and conducted himself, she honestly wouldn't be surprised to learn that she was the only friend he really had. Although she genuinely hoped that wasn't actually the case.
Without another word, Steam Clean slowly turned around and walked off.
"W... where're you going?" Doily asked, not seeing this development coming.
"I've got work to do," she called as she departed. "And if Thunder needs a friend, then I'm gonna be a friend. I'm gonna see if I can quash that rumor before somepony gets the bright idea to get him a pair of high-heels to wear."
Brick Wall stood silently in the doorway to the barracks' common room, sans his armor as he tried to comprehend what he was currently seeing.
His shift for the day had ended, he had been lucky to not be assigned any overtime for the day, and all he'd wanted to do was simply relax. Just slip out of his armor and kick back and relax for a bit before doing anything else.
He'd accomplished the first part of that goal by getting undressed. But when it came to kicking back in the common room, that was when things hit an unintended snag as he saw another pony already present present, currently sitting on the couch. One that he didn't immediately recognize. But then again with so many ponies serving in the guard, that wasn't anything out of the ordinary.
The way the pony in question currently perched on the couch, however, was another story. That was where things got to be... a little bit odd to observe. There was something about the stallion's posture that just felt off, and he couldn't put his hoof on it.
"Can I... help you?" he eventually asked as he stepped into the room.
The stallion in question slowly, almost awkwardly turned his head around, as if he was unsure whether or not he was the one being addressed.
"I don't know how to answer that question," he stated slowly, before turning back around to face away. "For seven and a half years, I've been asking others if I can be of any assistance to them. Now I'm the one being asked by others if they can be of any assistance to me. And I don't know how to deal with that..."
It took Brick a moment, even after hearing the voice, to realize the stallion in question was Thunder. He'd seen him without his armor plenty of times, but his entire demeanor was different. Gone was the rigid, disciplined manner that he held himself to even in his off-hours. In its place was a slouch as he sat, awkwardly perched on the edge of the couch.
Thunder never sat on the couch.
In all the years he'd served alongside him, not once had he ever actually been seen sitting on it; he'd never even seen him so much as approaching it. And now that he thought about it, Brick was having trouble remembering if he'd ever seen Thunder actually sitting down outside of the mess hall at meal times.
What he was seeing right now, was like an entirely different pony wearing his appearance, but not knowing just what to do with it.
Curiously, he stepped closer to investigate.
"I'm not accustomed to this; to any of it. The entire dynamic has changed. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I..."
Brick stood by silently, waiting to see where this was going, and whether or not Thunder was actually up to saying what was on his mind without any prying. He wasn't exactly known for a reputation of discussing any private details about himself, so this was sort of uncharted territory to be in.
"I'm... I'm afraid..." he eventually uttered.
Definitely uncharted territory to be in.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Brick asked.
"No," Thunder replied as he slowly shook his head, his voice weak as he spoke. "But I think that I need to talk about it."
"I'm all ears if you're up to it," Brick replied.
He thought he could see a smile trying to form on Thunder's lips in response. But he couldn't be certain.
"Thank you, Lieutenant Wall."
"Thunder, come on. There's nopony around, we're both the same rank, and we're both off the clock. There's no need for us to be so formal with each other."
"... Brick," Thunder eventually got out after a long and uncomfortable pause, "I don't know if I'm fit to be a Royal Guard anymore. I don't know, and I'm afraid of what the answer might be."
Brick paused, uncertain if he'd actually heard right just now. And equally uncertain if he should say something, or simply wait and see how this played out.
"I'm not sure I understand," he admitted, opting to try and prod the conversation along.
"As a Royal Guard, I have an obligation to return to my duty as soon as possible. Ever since I got back from the hospital, I've been going to the palace infirmary, every day, to ask Dr. Malar to clear me to return to duty. And every day he refuses, saying that I'm not fit," Thunder explained. "Today... today I didn't do that. I didn't go to see him at all. I... I wasn't up to it."
Brick kept his mouth shut, waiting to see where this was going.
"I was helping the maids with their cleaning yesterday. Or... I tried to help them, at least. I thought it was something that I could do to make myself useful, but I was wrong. They were so much better at it than I was. Better in a way that can't be chalked up merely to experience alone. They didn't get winded and have to sit down after a scant few hours. They just kept on going like it was nothing to them. I couldn't keep pace with them. I could barely even stand up. I tried, but..."
Brick, like a number of others who worked at the palace, had heard about the gossip working its way through the grapevine about Sergeant Kowalski, and Thunder in the maid's uniform yesterday. Although how close to the truth what he'd heard was, was anypony's guess. But right now that wasn't really important. A friend and fellow guard was in need right now, and that was all that really mattered. Anything else was just irrelevant.
"Brick," Thunder sighed as he slowly looked at him, "Dr. Malar was right when he said I was unfit to return to duty. But until yesterday, I had no idea just how right he actually was. I was lagging behind the maids I was working with, struggling just to keep pace with them as they moved about so smoothly; they were practically gliding in their movements. If the incident with Sergeant Kowalski hadn't happened when it did, I might've ended up collapsing again. I literally couldn't keep going, I didn't have anymore strength."
"Thunder," Brick sighed in turn, "look, we all get tired. Being a guard is a tough job. It's nothing to be upset about. Nopony is gonna blame you, or think less of you, if you need a day off to rest up before trying to go back to work."
Thunder slowly shook his head. "It's not a matter of simply being tired. I'm used to being tired. I can muster my way through it; I can stay awake for one hundred hours straight if need be. But this is something else, something worse. Even if Doctor Malar is going to refuse my inquiry, at least I'm still trying to get back to performing my duties. But today... today I didn't do that; I didn't even make an effort. I... I was a coward, Brick."
Brick frowned in response, really not liking where this was going. But at least now he was starting to get an idea of what Thunder was going on about.
"Thunder, listen. I'm no philosopher who can give a deep, informative answer at the drop of the hat, so don't be expecting that from me here," he stated, before idly shaking his head. "It's not cowardice to know your own body's limits. But it's stupidity if you go on ignoring them for too long and compromising yourself in the process."
Thunder slowly looked up at him in response to the last part.
"Let's say you did go and see Mal' this morning, and that he did clear you to return for duty," Brick began. "In fact, let's go further and say that you rushed right off to get your assignment and get back to doing what you do so well. Based on yesterday, what do you think would've happened?"
Thunder slowly looked back down towards the floor at the question. "I would've struggled to perform my duties, and eventually collapsed under the strain after just a few hours. Just like I did in the showers. You and the others would've had to leave your posts and look for me, again. The palace would've been left vulnerable to possible infiltration... all because I wasn't up to the task..."
Even though it wouldn't be seen, Brick smiled and nodded.
"Right. So, why don't you tell me, why it'd be cowardice to not do something like that?"
It was only after a long stretch of silence, that Thunder eventually responded.
"It wouldn't be," he sighed reluctantly as he slowly looked back up. "It would be an act of selfishness, and recklessness, to put the others at risk like that."
Brick nodded in agreement.
"But... it still feels like an act of cowardice to not at least ask," Thunder insisted. "As a Royal Guard I have an obligation to-"
"You have an obligation to yourself," Brick interrupted, cutting him off before he could go into his whole spiel again. "I get it; probably better than some do, simply because I've been here longer than you have. Doing your job well is important to you. But answer me this; is being a guard more important than your own health? Than your own life?"
Brick did his best not to sigh in response to hearing that. The admission didn't really come as a complete surprise, based on what they all knew. But actually hearing it spoken out loud like that was still a disappointment.
"For most of my life, ever since I was five year old, all that I've ever wanted was to be a Royal Guard; to serve and protect ponies who couldn't protect themselves. It was more important to me than anything else. More important than earning my cutie mark. More important than getting a family. It was... it was the only thing I ever had that was truly mine, that could never be taken away from me by anypony."
Whether Thunder was talking to him specifically, or just voicing that tidbit because he felt compelled to speak, he didn't really know. Nor was it important right now.
The urge to frown at the depressingly bleak mental image such a statement conjured was strong. But he resisted the urge and maintained a neutral expression as he listened. Thunder wasn't exactly known around the palace for talking about himself, and he didn't want to give him the idea that he needed to shut up. If he felt this was important enough to open up about, then the least he could do was listen.
Wordlessly, he stepped closer and eased his bulky frame down onto the couch next to him.
"Thunder, listen. I'm no philosopher or anything like that, I'm just a simple earth pony who's trying to do his part," he explained, "with all that said, you're not a good guard because of your physical strength."
It was easy to see the smaller stallion physically tense in response to his words, as if he'd just been struck. So he didn't waste any time before he continued.
"Or because you're willing to work sixteen-hour days, seven days a week. Or even because you've demonstrated a near-encyclopedic memory of rules and regulations. What makes you a good guard is the simple fact that your heart is in it. And as long as your heart is in it, you'll always be fit to be a royal guard."
It would be hard to not hear the shuddering breath being sucked in. Especially with how close the two were sitting to each other.
"Do... do you really mean that?"
"I'd better, seeing as it came from Hardhooves himself," Brick replied.
"H... Drill Instructor Hardhooves said that?"
"Well, he did in a way. We didn't go to the academy at the same time, so you may not've heard it yourself, but I was laid up in the infirmary, flat on my back with a bad sprain that I suffered on the obstacle course, and kicking myself for being pathetic enough to go and get hurt like that.
"Thunder, when he walked into the room, I nearly jumped out of the bed in fear. I expected him to chew me out like he'd been doing when we were running and falling. And instead of being ordered out of bed and back onto the field to repeat the whole course... he addressed me in a firm but warm tone, telling me that I needed to focus on my recovery first, because I'm no good to anypony in a compromised state; especially if moving would only aggravate my condition and make it worse."
"He did that?" Thunder asked, plainly not believing what he was hearing.
Brick nodded. "He did. You didn't hear it from me, but during his off-hours, he's a soft-spoken grandfather who'd go full papa wolf on anything that would dare to hurt his cadets."
He nearly laughed at the utterly perplexed look on Thunder's face at hearing this information and seemingly unable to process it. But there would be time for that later on.
"Anyway, we ended up having a very long, very informative conversation about what's actually expected of anypony who signs up to be a royal guard. Would you care to guess what he had to say?"
Thunder looked at him uncertainly, the turning of the gears in his head practically visible on his face.
"Surprisingly it wasn't muscle-bound powerhouses who could each bench press an entire train car by themselves," Brick stated, opting to take the opening to continue. "No, what Hardhooves wanted for guards, was ponies who had a lot of heart, who were willing to put the well being others ahead of themselves. He wanted ponies who would respect the organization and do their best to bring honor to it; not brutes who would exploit their guard status for their own selfish nefarious purposes."
"A Royal Guard does not ask what the Organization can do for them. He instead asks what he can do for the Organization," Thunder recited, more out of reflex than conscious thought.
Brick nodded. "Pretty much. He explained, given the choice between a hundred stragglers who ranked dead last behind everypony else, but possessed the heart and commitment to keep trying despite the odds, and a hundred muscle-bound brutes who could single-hoofedly pick up and throw a bison, but served for greedy purposes, he'd take the weak but committed stragglers every single time. Do you know why? Because, given enough time, he'd be able to shape the stragglers into serviceable guards who would protect ponies with their lives, but even he couldn't beat the wickedness out of the brutes who would disgrace the organization."
Thunder had no immediate response to give to what he'd just heard. But that was alright, he didn't need to talk right now.
"Thunder, your heart and your dedication to doing the right thing no matter what, are what makes you fit to be a royal guard; they always were. The things you do, like covering as many shifts as possible, standing at attention at all waking hours, and keeping your armor immaculately clean? Those are just reflections of your commitment, not its definers.
"Nopony's going to think you're less of a guard, simply because you can't keep pace with yourself and need to take a break now and then. And it's certainly not going to make you any less of a guard as a result. As long as your heart's in it, you'll always be the best guard possible. And that's something that nopony can ever take away from you, no matter how hard they try."
A shaky, shuddering breath, being sucked through clenched teeth, was the only audible response that'd been heard.
Brick wasn't a philosopher, nor did he ever pretend to be. He didn't have deep, thought-provoking explanations that he could present at the drop of a hat in the most unlikely of places. All he had were his own observations, and the words of an older, more seasoned pony who'd helped him at a low point in his own life. Words that'd helped him when he'd needed to hear them most.
What he was, was just a simple earth pony, trying to do the right thing to the best of his abilities. And right now, as he watched Thunder trying to grit his teeth and clench his eyes shut in a futile effort to maintain his composure and keep tears from falling, doing the right thing involved being there for a friend and fellow guard who obviously needed somepony in turn. Who probably had needed somepony for a long time now, but had no way of conveying that fact on his own.
Without a single word spoken, he eased his forelegs around the smaller stallion's trembling frame.
And without any hesitation or shame on his part, Thunder quickly clung to him for dear life as his shaky breath hitched in his throat.
"It's alright, Thunder. I've got you, buddy..."
Brick didn't know just how long he'd been sitting with Thunder, but a little detail like that hadn't been particularly important at the time. It'd been long enough for the smaller stallion to eventually grow quiet and still, but that was about all he could tell.
Had it been awkward to hug a grown stallion who was crying? Sure it'd been, he wouldn't deny that. But then again it would've been equally awkward if it'd been a mare like Sergeant Reckless who'd been emotionally vulnerable and in need of such.
But, being the second-tallest pony in the palace, sometimes that was just how it went. So he'd done what he'd needed to do at the time, and just held onto Thunder, letting him feel secure for once in who knew how long.
All the while, questions swirled about like mosquitoes on a hot summer day.
How long had he been holding himself together through sheer willpower alone, in his all-consuming quest to mould himself into what he believed was the perfect guard?
How long had he been holding himself to such a rigid standard of review, that it left him utterly terrified to even breathe wrong?
How long had he been keeping all of that hurt inside of him, locked up and hidden away from everypony? Had it been to the point that even he might not've been aware of its presence because he's grown numb to it until now?
How long had he been dealing with doubts about his own worth as a guard, if something as simple as a few kind and encouraging words from a coworker had been enough to reduce him to tears like it was nothing?
He didn't have the answers to any of those questions. But he knew that even if he did have those answers, there still wasn't a whole lot that he could do about it. This required professional help and intervention, and that was something he just couldn't offer even if he wanted to.
"Better?" he asked as he gently patted Thunder's back.
"I really shouldn't have done that," Thunder mumbled as he slowly -weakly- tried to untangle himself and pull away. "It was completely unbecoming, and extremely unprofessional."
"Yeah? So what if it was?"
Thunder was silent in response, before slowly prying himself apart to better look up at him in confusion at the question.
"We're ponies, Thunder. We're allowed to have moments where we're not professional. And you? After seven and a half years of unyielding service, I'd say you've earned more than your fair share of them. Don't be afraid to use them every now and then. There's no shame in it."
"Royal Guards don't cry," Thunder protested weakly in response.
That one actually got a snort out of him.
"Thunder, pardon my Prench, but that's a load of horse shit," Brick retorted. "Guards cry, I've seen it for myself. I've even been there a few times myself. We're ponies, we feel things, we're not unfeeling automatons animated and fueled by magic to perform crude tasks. There's going to be times when we break down crying, and there's nothing we can do but ride it out."
Again, Thunder had no retort to offer up. All he could do was look downward and avoid eye contact
Brick simply patted him on the back.
"... Brick?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
Brick smiled in response, and proceeded to hug Thunder once again. Who reciprocated in turn.
"You've been holding yourself together for years, all for the sake of helping others who're in need. You're strong, Thunder, but even the strong need help. It's about time you let others have their turn at being the strong ones and help you in turn. Okay?"
"I... don't know how to do that..." Thunder reluctantly admitted.
Brick mentally shrugged. That sort of admission didn't really surprise him in this case. It was simply yet one more thing that needed to be addressed, by somepony more competent than him.
"Well... just start small then. No more of this silly talk about being nothing without being a guard, alright? Because we've already covered that. Nothings don't get to be royal guards. Nothings are what Hardhooves kicks out of the royal guards so they don't pollute our ranks."
Before Thunder could respond either one way or another, they were interrupted by a rolled up scroll materializing in front of them in a flash of flames, before falling onto the floor.
The discussion was forgotten about as he reached down and levitated the scroll up to unroll it, and read what it had to say.
"Princess Celestia paging you?" Brick asked.
Thunder nodded, before rolling the scroll back up again and climbed up off the couch. "She wants me to meet with her in her office."
"Well then, I guess a "good luck" is in order," Brick replied as he eased himself back. "Although you might want to wash your face before head out. I don't want to be rude, but you look like a mess right now. She'll take one look at you and instantly know you've been crying. Something tells me you don't want that."
Thunder firmly shook his head in response to the question.
"You're right, I don't," he confirmed as he made ready to leave, but stopped and slowly turned back around again. "And, Brick? Thank you again. I... I appreciate what you did for me."
"No trouble at all, Thunder. No trouble at all. We're royal guards, it's what we do. If we can't even help each other during a time of need, then we're really not much use to anypony else," Brick replied as he gave a warm smile. "Now go on and get yourself cleaned up. No sense keeping Princess Celestia waiting."
The advice from Lieutenant Wall has been quite welcome at the time it'd been offered. But Thunder still regretted actually having needed it at the time. He'd looked like quite the mess when he saw himself in the bathroom mirror, wholly unbecoming of a Royal Guard. His face had been marred by tear stains, streaks, and other things that weren't worth mentioning.
And right now, he really didn't want to think about the corresponding mess that he'd made and subsequently left behind on Wall's coat in turn, during that unfortunate episode back in the barrack's common room. He was going to need to apologize for that at some point.
He spent perhaps more time than he should've, scrubbing his face until it was clean enough to be presentable once again, and working to straighten his mane out until it was even and equally as presentable as his face, with neither a hair nor a trace of fur out of place from being combed.
Her Highness hadn't specified just how soon he should arrive at her office, but he was certain she wanted to see him as quickly as possible. Otherwise she would've specified a time at which she actually had wanted to see him... right?
Regardless, he was trotting along at a very brisk pace towards his destination, to see what it was that she wanted. For the life of him, he couldn't fathom a reason that she might request him.
Unless... unless he'd ended up performing some sort of infraction without even being aware of it it, and she needed to inform him about it before punishment could be leveled in response, as per palace regulations relating to the subject.
With that possibility in mind, he stepped up his pace. Teleporting there would've been much faster, but regulations specified that such travel within the confines of the palace and around its grounds, without possessing good and sufficient reason to warrant its use, was restricted. And if he was already in trouble for doing something, there was no need to add to it with additional infractions.
What events followed as he rounded the corner were perhaps inevitable, as he slammed full force into something that was in his path of travel, knocking himself to the floor with a solid thud in the process before he'd even had time to process what he'd seen as he rounded the bend.
His immediate thought upon collision was that he'd been ambushed by some intruder who's managed to breach the palace's defenses; it certainly wouldn't be the first time. But the cry of pain that followed had sounded distressed, and dispelled that thought.
With a subdued grunt, he pushed himself upright into a sitting position to evaluate the situation before he drew any conclusion as to what was going on, and how he should respond.
He was met by the sight of a fellow Royal Guard currently laying sprawled out on the floor on their back... on her back. A pegasus mare with a slate black coat and feathers, ashy gray mane and tail, and the beginnings of tears perched in the corners of unfocused pale blue eyes that were mostly shut as she tried to sit back up, looking very much like she was trying to figure out for herself what had just happened.
He recognized the mare almost immediately, as being one Private Pumpernickel from the Las Pegasus area. A fresh arrival at the palace to join their proud ranks. So fresh in fact, that she'd only been cleared to make rounds on her own within the last month.
As far as Royal Guards went, she was possibly the physically smallest one who worked at the palace, to the point her issued armor had needed to be modified to ensure a proper fit. Additional holes punched through the strapping, and additional padding added underneath the plates. And even then, that still looked like it left something to be desired. At times it looked like she couldn't even keep everything in place, simply because she didn't have the necessary mass to achieve that goal.
But, as Lieutenant Wall had explained so well, it was what was in a pony's heart that determined their worth as a Royal Guard, rather than their physical status. And so far, in the scant interactions that he had shared with her, he had yet to see or hear anything that would suggest her heart simply wasn't in her work.
"Are you alright, Private Pumpernickel?"
Her efforts at trying futilely to rub her head through her own helmet paused as she fully opened her eyes, looked at him with said eyes proceeding to going wide, and then she proceeded try and simultaneously inhale and yell all at the same time.
"L-L-Lieutenant Thunder Strike! Sir!" she squeaked in what sounded almost like fear, as she immediately sat upright and saluted as crisply as she could. "Apologies, Sir! I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings! It won't happen again, Sir, I swear!"
He regarded her for a moment, and reached the conclusion that he really wasn't liking what he was seeing.
He climbed back onto his hooves, and returned the salute with equal crispness before setting his hoof back on the ground.
"Apology accepted, Private. But please be at ease," he replied as his horn flared to life with a cobalt blue glow, with her easily being lifted back up from the floor, and gently deposited back down onto her shod hooves once again. "In truth I should be the one apologizing to you instead."
"Sir?" she asked in confusion as she stood there.
"I was rounding the bend faster than I should have. Even if you had seen me coming, you wouldn't have had time to respond before we collided," he explained. "So I apologize."
"A... apology accepted, Sir," she replied, unable to completely suppress the bit of a smile working its way across her lips in response.
He nodded, and prepared to leave, but winced far harder than he should have as he moved and was forced to pause his departure.
"Private Pumpernickel, have you been working out lately?"
"Should I be, Sir?" she asked, the smile giving way to confusion.
"It wouldn't hurt, but that's not what I was getting at," he replied and shook his head. "I really wasn't expecting to be knocked down like that. Either your frame belies how strong you really are, or I'm in worse physical condition than I thought I was."
Left unsaid was just how hard the impact had been. Far harder than he would've expected, even with her armor being a factor to take into account.
"I... apologize for that, Sir," she stated uncertainly.
"No matter. No harm done," he replied, grunting to himself as he moved again. "I'll let you get back to your duties now."
"Sir? Before you leave... may I ask a question?"
Again, Thunder paused his departure as he looked back at her. He knew that he had to go see Princess Celestia, and that it wasn't wise to keep her waiting. But he had been the one to knock Private Pumpernickel down in his haste, and interrupted her ability to perform her duties. He had been at fault, and the very least that he could do was be courteous to her.
And if he really was in trouble for something he'd done, it would be better to resolve this matter now, while he still had the chance.
"I don't see a reason why not. What's on your mind, Private?"
"W-well, Sir, some of the other guards are keeping your armor clean for you while you're on medical leave, and I never really thought about this until then; until I actually saw it for myself. You're the only guard at the palace who uses a crested helmet. Everypony else uses the lighter, open-top design that lets their mane serve as a crest. Why is that? I mean, I know it's not any of my business or anything like that, I was just curious."
Thunder would admit that wasn't a question he'd been expecting. But that certainly didn't make it a bad thing.
"It's what I was issued when I first arrived for duty," he stated simply.
"Okay, but why? Was Supply out of open-tops at the time?"
"No, it was a different matter. Back when I was at the Academy, just days before graduation, when the Drill Instructors made us do one last run on the obstacle course, the entire class was exposed to rock lice."
"Eww!" she commented and flinched in disgust, unable to hide her revulsion at the thought.
He nodded. "Resistant to magic, with an exoskeleton like granite, and very difficult to kill as a result. Very nasty little buggers to contend with; they establish a base of operations up in the mane area and entrench themselves like ticks. We didn't have much choice at the time but to get our manes shaved off to remove them. All of us, even the Instructors."
There was a snort that slipped past her lips at the last part. But he said nothing in response.
"But while that solved one problem, that didn't really leave us looking the part of the noble Royal Guard that we'd trained so hard to be. So those of us that got transferred to the palace were issued crested helmets as a stopgap until our manes could grow back in. Some of us were waiting five, even six months for that to happen."
He was quite certain he caught sight of her shifting her eyes in an effort to glance upwards towards his scalp as he spoke, without trying to be too obvious about it. But he chose to say nothing on the matter.
"My mane eventually reached the necessary length to make use of an open-top helmet like others. But after so long, I'd simply come to regard the helmet I'd been assigned as being mine. I'd come to be familiar with it as a whole, its strengths inherent to the construction, and its limitations of its design. It... felt right. If I traded it in for a new one, I would've had to relearn all of that from scratch while I tried to adjust. So while everypony else was rushing to exchange theirs, I approached Captain Armor to ask if it was permissible for a Guard to keep their assigned helmet."
"And... what'd he say?" she asked.
"He explained that there was nothing in the regulations dictating a Royal Guard was limited to only one type or style of helmet or armor. According to him, a Royal Guard was free to wear whatever type or style they wanted in the performance of their duties. The only requirement was that it be of a type and model that was rated for duty, and appropriate for either day or night shift. So I simply opted to keep mine," he explained.
"Woah..." she replied, sounding almost breathless as she spoke. "You mean anypony can do that if they want? Even a lowly Private like me?"
He nodded, remembering how he'd experienced a similar moment of surprise at the time, to being exposed to the idea that a certain degree of latitude was actually permissible when it came to adhering to the rules and regulations of the Royal Guard, in the performance of their duties. Exposed to the unfathomable notion that they weren't actually as rigid and unyielding as the palace walls themselves.
It'd been an... awkward, but ultimately informative and educational moment. And the moment of catalyst that led to his decision to commit regulations to memory, so that he would know these things on his own.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?"
She shook her head in response. "No, I think I'm good."
"Alright," he replied and nodded. "I'd best get going. Her Highness wants to see me in her office, and I've kept her waiting long enough."
"Her High- Princess Celestia wants to see you? Y-you mean she's been expecting you, and I've been keeping you from seeing her this whole time?" she squeaked in surprise. "Oh my goodness! S-Sir I'm so sorry! W-would you like me to accompany you and explain that I was responsible for your being late?"
He considered the request/offer. By all accounts he could do that; have Private Pumpernickel follow along and explain the whole matter. But if he went that route, it might only yield them both being in trouble. Thinking on it, and what could potentially happen, he just couldn't do that. It would be better if only he were the one in trouble.
"No thank you, Private. But I appreciate the offer," he replied as he shook his head. "I'll let you get back to your duties now."
She still looked nervous, even anxious, but simply nodded in response. And with one last salute being shared between them, they parted ways as she trotted off.
Now then, it was just a matter of him doing what he had to do. And with that in mind he trotted off, in the direction of his own destination.
The walk to the receptionist area where Raven Inkwell sat behind her desk took longer than it should have, even when factoring in and allowing for the time that was spent freshening up, and the incident with Private Pumpernickel. But there was nothing that could be done about that.
Not without access to the time travel spell of Starswirl the Bearded, at least. But his security clearance was far too low to get him access to that section of the palace library. But even if it wasn't, the spell's one-minute duration really wouldn't accomplish anything meaningful, and would just raise more questions as a result should it be used.
So he put the whole matter out of his mind as he approached Raven's desk, standing quietly at attention as he waited for her to finish whatever paperwork she was currently occupied with. Interrupting her when she was busy with something related to doing her work was a... bad idea. To put it mildly. Even if Her Highness was waiting to see him, crossing The Raven was simply not to be done.
So he simply stood there, quietly as he waited his turn to have his presence acknowledged.
Fortunately it wasn't a particularly long wait. Just long enough for her to finish with whatever document was in front of her, before she set it off to the side and caught sight of him.
"Good afternoon, Lieutenant."
"Good afternoon, Miss Inkwell," he greeted in turn. "Her Highness sent word saying she wanted to see me."
He thought he could see her nod in response, but he wasn't entirely certain as it followed her pushing herself up from her chair, and could easily be attributed to such.
"Of course. Just a moment."
She moved from her desk to the door that led to Princess Celestia's office, before knocking and letting herself in. His ears flicked in response, instinctively trying to hear whatever was being said. It would've been so easy to cast a sound reception spell and better pick up the finer details, but that would've been entirely inappropriate for him to do.
Eventually, she stepped back out with him.
"She'll see you now."
He nodded, before trotting past the desk and entering the room before the door slowly closed behind him.
Just as he did the last -technically the second to last- time he was in the room, without waiting to be addressed, he marched up to the desk where Princess Celestia sat, stood firmly at attention, and brought his right hoof up to salute her.
"Reporting as was requested, Your Highness. I apologize for keeping you waiting by not being able to arrive sooner."
She offered a polite smile, and shook her head in response. "It's quite alright, Thunder Strike. There's really no need to apologize; I wasn't expecting you to just come galloping here as fast as you could."
"Noted," he stated as he set his hoof back on the floor again, but remained standing at attention regardless. "How may I be of assistance, Your Highness?"
"I was hoping we could just sit and talk for a bit," she explained as she used her magic to both gesture to the chair in front of her desk, and move it outward.
He paused, doing his best to keep his head still as his eyes slowly shifted back and forth between her and the chair, while trying to contemplate what was either being asked, or otherwise suggested. It was... odd. But he hadn't been asked for his opinion on the matter. So he simply did as was suggested, and awkwardly sat down on the chair.
If he had been asked, the floor would've been more appropriate. But nopony had asked him, so it was neither here nor there.
"So how are you feeling? You're looking much better than you did yesterday," she commented.
On the surface it was a very simple question. But at the same time it was anything but simple for him. Primarily because he knew what the answer would ultimately be; what the answer ultimately had to be.
"Like I need to stop wasting time, and get back to performing my duties, Your Highness."
Even before he'd spoken up, he was keenly aware of the fact that such was not the answer that she'd wanted to hear. But at the same time, it was the honest truth, so he had little choice but to say such. A Royal Guard did not lie, and under no circumstances did a Royal Guard ever lie to her of all ponies.
"I'm not asking to be cleared to return to my duties, Your Highness; I know that I'm physically unfit to perform them at this time. My tour of working alongside the palace maids yesterday made that fact perfectly clear, in ways that I wasn't prepared for."
"Oh really now?" she asked, her tone of voice heavily tinged with curiosity. "This is certainly different from yesterday, when you were insisting that you could keep going."
"I was mistaken in my initial assessment of my own condition, Your Highness," he admitted. "Just like I was mistaken in my initial belief that the work I'd be doing, would be made easier by the fact I wasn't wearing thirty pounds of armor at the time. It was technically easier to move about, but the work was physically exhaustive regardless of that fact."
He paused, trying to remember just how many mattresses he'd helped them flip yesterday. Along with how many beds he'd helped make over the course of the day.
"By the time Sergeant Kowalski found us, I could barely even remain standing up. I tried, but I just couldn't keep going. And by the time I made it back to my quarters, I actually had to be helped out of both the dress and the makeup, because I didn't even have the strength to get out of my uniform on my own.
"When I didn't show up for dinner in the mess hall that evening, one of the maids came to check on me and brought my dinner. If not for her I probably would've spent the night unconscious on the floor, passed out from exhaustion, and still wearing my uniform. That... that sort of development has a way of making a pony rethink and reevaluate things," he concluded.
"It certainly sounds like it," she commented.
He slowly nodded in agreement.
"But even after that, I still feel the same way that I did previously, Your Highness; that I need to get back to work and doing my duty. And if commanded, or otherwise requested to do that, I would in a heartbeat. I'd be back in my armor and assuming my post as fast as the speed of teleportation would allow; no questions asked, and no hesitation whatsoever," he stated. "I just... can't quit thinking like that, even though I know that I'm not fit to do any of it right now."
"That honestly doesn't surprise me, Thunder Strike," she stated softly and shook her head. "For better or worse, being a guard has been the sum total of your life, to the point of your willingly excluding everything else that could've been. That sort of mindset doesn't just change overnight. I'd be more worried if you could just turn it off and on like a light switch."
He had no rebuttal to offer up to this particular point. Simply because he had no idea of just how to respond, short of asking the obvious question; one that had already technically been asked previously, and was still without anything resembling a viable answer.
The problem had been identified, but what was supposed to be done in order to address it? The only thing he really knew how to do was work, and work harder. But working harder was what had gotten him into this situation in the first place. What was the solution to that?
The immediate thought was to focus on conditioning himself, both in body and mind, to better withstand the strains caused by the performance of his duties. But that thought was tempered by what he'd been told the other day, about how even an alicorn would eventually break under the strain he'd been subjecting himself to.
And try as he might, as much as he hated to acknowledge it, there was just no foreseeable way of overcoming that simple fact. No amount of endurance training that he could put himself through, was going to build up enough staying power to surpass an alicorn.
But even if he could accomplish such a feat, what then? Even if he could actually transcend biological differences, he would still be in the same boat he was already.
"I... just don't know what to do, Your Highness," he admitted as he looked back towards her. "It feels wrong to be sitting around in my quarters and doing nothing. But it feels even worse to pass by the others in the hallways, just watching from the sidelines as they do work that I'd be doing myself under different circumstances. I feel like I'm... like I'm letting them down by doing nothing while they're stuck doing everything."
She shook her head slowly in response, with a displeased look on her face as she did. But it wasn't the sort of look that suggested she was angry, so he didn't know what exactly it was.
"You're not letting anypony down, Thunder Strike. I promise you that. Although I can certainly understand how you might feel. Our best never seems to be quite enough to satisfy our own standards, even when we're already doing the work of ten others. And no matter what anypony might say to try and assure us, their words never quite seem to be enough. It's like a nerve pain that never truly goes away, and all we can ever do is jut try and learn to live with it."
He nodded. This wasn't the first time this sort of conversation had been had. But sometimes, points simply needed to be repeated and reiterated. And he was thankful that she didn't seem to mind going back over certain points again. Whereas he would be berating himself for needing to be told the same thing multiple times, for not being able to understand it the first time around.
"So how does a pony learn to "live with it" Your Highness?" he eventually asked, hoping that she would be willing to share some much-needed wisdom with him right now.
And if not, he was going to be spending a lot of hours in the library, trying to research the matter in the hope of finding something more significant than what'd been uncovered about the subject of relaxing.
"I'm afraid I can't give you a very definitive answer to that question. The "how" tends to vary from pony to pony. All I can do is make suggestions on what might help," she explained. "Keeping our attention focused towards the future, rather than looking back on the past as if it's something we could actually change, is a good place to start. But sadly that's easier said than done, because hindsight brings regrets after the fact."
That was a fact he was quite familiar with. The past was the past, and beyond their reach for change.
"Not letting ourselves succumb to the "what if" game can also help. But that's also a very difficult one to pull off, since it's a natural tendency to go down that road. We let ourselves become so paralyzed by the possibility of doing the wrong thing, we start second-guessing everything we might do in an effort to stop that, and as a result our indecisiveness can end up making the situation worse than the wrong decision would," she continued.
Again, that was a fact he was quite familiar with. The Academy had stressed, to him and others, that whether the decision was right or wrong, decisiveness was still better than being indecisive and just standing there like an idiot.
"Having friends by your side to help you stay focused on what's important is another worthwhile approach."
He'd been listening the entire time she'd been speaking to him; that much went without saying. But that last one had caught him completely off guard, grabbed hold of his attention, and brought his head all the way back up to look towards her once again.
"I don't understand, Your Highness."
"I wish I could say that surprised me," she commented and slowly shook her head. "Friends are a wonderful treasure all their own, in a way that nothing else can truly compare. Simply having friends around can brighten even the darkest, most depressing of moods. They can seemingly breathe a newfound sense of life into you with just their presence and a gentle smile. Their company can make you feel strong enough to conquer mountains when you're otherwise feeling like you don't have anymore strength left to run on.
"But more importantly, friends help us learn how to balance between work and life, so one doesn't overtake and devour the other. They help us understand how there's so much more to living than simply going to sleep, just so we can wake up and go back to work the next day. A pony's profession should never be allowed to become the most important thing in their life, otherwise that reduces the concept of living down to simply existing for the sake of the work itself. A life without that balance is a very lonely, unfulfilling state of being that shouldn't be wished upon anypony."
He resisted the urge to flinch at her words, but it wasn't easy. He could all but feel her referring to him directly as she spoke. And the worst of it, was the understanding that she wasn't wrong. He had no rebuttal that he could offer up to dispute her points and assessments. Even if he tried, what could he possibly say in an effort to prove her wrong?
"I'm so sorry that you never got the chance to learn that balance for yourself, Thunder Strike. If you had, you might not've collapsed from exhaustion in the shower and been left at death's door from trying to stick to your schedule," she stated, a hint of conclusion in her voice as she spoke. "Instead you charged headlong into your career, obsessively focusing on it to the point there was never any room left for friends or anything else. To the point there wasn't even any room left for you as an individual either."
He wanted to speak up. But He didn't have a clue what he should actually say in response to all that. Her entire statement had been painful to listen to, and sitting through it had...
He stopped, and he thought. He analyzed the situation. More specifically, he analyzed how he was currently feeling in the given situation.
The last time he'd felt like this, had been during their exchange after the visit to his dreams. When she'd been supposedly blaming herself for his situation and circumstances, because she'd wanted him to say something specific in order to turn his own logic back on him to show the fallacy of his position.
Was that what was actually happening here? He really didn't know for certain. But that was certainly what it'd felt like to him right now.
"Your Highness," he spoke up as he slowly pushed himself up straighter in the chair. "Regardless of what could be said about my service, or the choices that led us here, I know this for certain. It's because of my being a Royal Guard that I currently have something I didn't have previously, and wouldn't have had otherwise; a friend. The very first friend I've ever really had."
Now it was her turn to look back at him in response.
"Well now. I certainly wasn't expecting to hear that, but I'm happy for you regardless. Congratulations then," she commented with a smile. "Would you mind if I ask who this friend of yours is?"
He shook his head. "The maid who came to check on me last night, when I didn't show up for dinner in the mess hall. She was... she was very nice. Last night was... it was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. She stayed even when she didn't have to. We ate dinner together in my quarters, just the two of us. We sat and talked, and she showed me the proper procedure for removing makeup from fur without staining it. We..."
He paused as he tried to determine how to proceed with his tale.
"We ate rocky road ice cream right out of the carton, and raw cookie dough straight from the tube in the kitchen, Your Highness. We... we sat up, watching the Canterlot skyline, and just keeping each other company as we talked until late into the night, until neither of us could stay awake any longer and just fell asleep. It was..."
He had to pause his story again, feeling his breath hitching in his throat once more as he spoke. It was like it had back in the barracks with Lieutenant Wall, but this time around it somehow felt different. Different and accompanied by an unexplained tight sensation around his mouth, and a warm sensation in his face and around his eyes as he remembered. Remembered how the two of them had just talked as they'd gone back to his room after their late-night snacking was done. And once there they talked some more, before eventually growing tired and curling up on the bed as they turned in for the night to get some much-needed sleep.
"It sounds like you actually managed to have fun."
The statement had been so utterly simple, but it'd snapped him out of his thoughts, bringing his attention back to his surroundings.
"I... I think that I did, Your Highness," he admitted uncertainly. And reluctantly, he continued. "It was... it was possibly the happiest night of my entire life. Maybe even moreso than when I graduated from the Academy; than when I found out I was being assigned to the palace."
He hadn't wanted to say it. He hadn't actually intended to speak such a notion out loud, and certainly not give the notion any credence like he had. It was disrespectful to the Organization, and the fine ponies who made it up, to speak such a concept into existence like he had.
But at the same time, for reasons he didn't understand, it somehow felt like it would be even worse to consider not acknowledging the fact for what it was; the absolute truth. Last night had been unlike anything he had ever experienced before in his life. He had enjoyed it in ways that he hadn't even known were possible; in ways that completing a long day's worth of hard work just couldn't seem to compare to. And if he were being honest with himself, it was something that he wanted to do again.
"I'm happy for you, Thunder Strike," she replied in a soft tone, even if the smile on her face didn't really match the tone of voice that accompanied it. "Everypony deserves to have a friend who can make them happy."
He nodded. He wasn't certain why he'd nodded -other than maybe out of reflex to signify that he was listening- but he'd done so regardless.
"Now then. I didn't ask you to come here so we could discuss last night's events. Rather, I wanted to discuss the matter of your continued employment here, and you being able to return to your duties. More specifically, how best to get you to that point."
He stopped, and sat up a bit straighter as he listened closely to gauge where this conversation could be going. Already he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck starting to stand up in anticipation, as he mentally readied the spell that would summon his armor from its stand and teleport it onto his frame.
But before he could follow through with his plan to suit back up, she held up her hoof to give him pause.
"Just to be clear, I'm not expecting you to go right back to performing your normal duties. I have something a little different in mind," she clarified.
The first thought that came to mind at hearing this, was the possibility of perhaps being reassigned to a different position on staff that would account for his current physical condition.
Maybe he was going to be assigned to a desk duty position and tasked with paperwork? Somepony had to deal with all those forms that were filled out in the course of each business day, and it was a job that involved a lot of sitting down. Surely he could do that.
"To get to the point, I'd like you to take a vacation," she continued.
Of all the things he had thought to try and anticipate being a possibility, that one was most certainly not on the list of what he'd expected to hear in this situation.
"I... don't understand, Your Highness," he admitted as he tried to make sense of it. "I'm already not performing my duties. Isn't that the same thing?"
She shook her head in response. "Being on medical leave for injuries from a work-related accident isn't the same thing as being on vacation. The two are as different as a freshly cooked meal is from canned field rations; they both might be food, but that doesn't mean one is the same as the other."
He nodded in response. Now that was an analysis he understood quite well.
"You said it yourself, you don't know what to do right now. And left to your own devices, we've seen that you'll simply revert to what you know and try to go back to working, even while knowing that you're not cut out for it. Obviously something needs to be done about that; something different that hasn't been tried before. And for a pony who's been working for over seven years straight without a break, a vacation seems appropriate in that regard."
Try as he might, he couldn't fault that logic when he'd already admitted to not knowing what to do under the present circumstances. Meaning that something different needed to be done to change the parameters, or failure would be the only foreseeable -and achievable- outcome.
"The question is, just where you should be spending your vacation," she continued.
"... Is there a problem with my quarters, Your Highness? They're far more extravagant than the bunk rooms in the palace barracks."
"I'm certain that they are. But in this case that's just not good enough for what's needed," she explained and shook her head. "The palace is far too connected to your work as a guard. Everywhere you'd look, everywhere you'd go, everypony you'd talk with, would just serve as a constant reminder of the fact that you're not currently working. There would be no opportunity for you to think of anything else. Not only would that be cruel, it would just serve to slow your recovery even further; you'd end up being trapped in a vicious feedback loop you couldn't escape from."
It was only through his own rigorous training that he didn't flinch at her words. The very idea of what she was saying, was far more disturbing than he wanted to think about. Being a Royal Guard had been his life's goal, and now it was keeping him from doing just that. The irony of that development was... he didn't even know how to comprehend that.
"The entire point of a vacation is to be able to relax, both physically and mentally. So the only option available is a change of venue to somewhere that's unconnected with your work."
Before he even had the opportunity to perform a proper analysis and form an opinion on the whole matter, or otherwise consider whether or not he should offer anything in the way of feedback, she was already speaking again, while levitating out a rolled up scroll from one of her desk drawers.
"The day you came to apologize for sleepwalking, I was at a loss for what to do. So I wrote Twilight and her friends to ask their advice. They were the ones who originally suggested a vacation was in order. They even suggested you come to Ponyville for the occasion. I'm inclined to agree with them, based on how much good it did for Twilight to get out of the palace, and into the world she could only read about."
Ponyville. There wasn't a pony at the palace who hadn't heard about at least some of the things that little village was associated and connected with. But exactly how much of what'd been heard was factual, and how much was a clear exaggeration, was something he didn't have the answer to. Or at least not yet.
"I've never tried teleporting that far away before, Your Highness," he admitted, already trying to calculate just how many attempts this was going to take, based on his maximum achieved range, and the distance between the two locations.
She quickly shook her head in response. "I don't expect you to be traveling there under your own power, even if you were in better condition. Part of why I asked you to come here today was to inform you that you'll be going by train. A ticket for tomorrow's trip has already been purchased in your name, and is waiting to be picked up at the ticket booth."
He was definitely not anticipating this development occurring. The last time he'd been on a locomotive had been... had been... when he and a few other graduates had been sent to Canterlot to work at the palace. Nearly eight years ago.
"Your train leaves at nine AM, so that gives you time to get ready for your trip," she continued. "Do you have any questions?"
In truth he had a great many questions right now. So many in fact that he didn't even know where to begin when it came to asking them. There just wasn't enough information for him to go on.
"What does a pony actually do while on vacation, Your Highness? What exactly does it entail?"
Out of all the questions he could lead with, that one seemed like the best choice. Perhaps once he knew the answer to that, he'd be able to figure out where to go from here.
But the look on her face when he asked that question, suggested things might not actually be all that simple.
"You don't know? Have you actually never asked the other guards what they've done while on vacation?" she asked.
He shook his head. "It's not something that's ever come up before."
In all the years that he'd worked at the palace, none of the other Royal Guards had ever had reason to tell him about what their vacations involved. And since they'd had no reason to approach him on the subject, he'd had no reason to inquire about matters that weren't his own. If they'd wanted him to know, then they would've told him. So as best he could tell, it'd simply been none of his business, and a Royal Guard knew better than to pry into matters that weren't their own.
"Oh..." she replied slowly. "Well what a pony does while on vacation, is simply whatever they feel like doing during their downtime while they rest and relax. Whatever you do is entirely up to you. You could take the opportunity to learn about who you are as a pony. Maybe be a little greedy for once in your life and stop worrying about others.
"Make some new friends. Find a hobby that interests you. Get hammered and do some karaoke. Find a nice mare to sleep with; or a nice stallion if you prefer, I don't judge. Just find something that's unconnected with your duty as a royal guard; something that you would like, Thunder Strike. Stop obsessing about Lieutenant Strike and his quest to be the quintessential royal guard; it's killing him, and taking you along for the ride."
He nodded as he listened, even though the provided answer really hadn't done him as much good as he would've liked. He still had just as many questions as he did previously, and was still feeling just as lost.
"And how long will this vacation last, Your Highness?"
"I'm afraid that's really not my call to make. Since Twilight and her friends will be hosting you, I've left that decision entirely in their hooves. They'll try their best to determine what you need once there," she explained. "Depending on what conclusion they reach, it could be as short as a week, or as long a month. But with the backlog of paid time off you have from all the years you've been working without missing a day, you really won't be at risk of burning through it all anytime soon, so don't concern yourself about that."
Once again, he nodded as he listened. Not particularly caring for the answer he'd received, but at least it'd given him something he could potentially work with. Provided he planned accordingly.
"Do you have any other questions?" she asked.
In truth he had a great many questions that still needed to be asked. But at the same time, none of them seemed appropriate to be asking right now. Especially not to her, when he knew that she had more important work to be doing. He'd already taken up and monopolized enough of her time as it was.
"Not at present time, Your Highness. I... think that I have all that I need to go on for this assignment."
It was a big day at Canterlot Palace for one Private Thunder Strike. It was both a day he'd been waiting for, and looking forward to; his very first day of solo duty.
Up until now, as per protocol, he'd been partnered with a more experienced Guard who could show him the ropes so he'd know what to do when it was time for him to work by himself. Somepony who had the firsthoof knowledge of the ins and outs of the job, who could in turn pass that vital information onto him so he could perform his duties to the best of his abilities. And now it was time to put what he'd been learning to the test, and actually prove his worth!
He may, or may not've, spent a bit more time last evening -and early this morning- in adding some extra emphasis to his presence and the quality of his appearance to mark the occasion. Combing the crest of his helmet just a bit more than he usually did, to get the plume just right. A tad more effort invested into the polishing and waxing of his armor, right down to the buckles on the leather straps, to make it truly shine in a manner that befitted the a proud member of the noble Royal Guard.
Was he nervous about operating solo without the presence of a more seasoned and experienced Guard at his side if something went sideways? Absolutely not! A Royal Guard did not get anxious about adversity; a Royal Guard charged adversity head on and asserted dominance over it! And as long as he believed that, as long as he practiced that, it would be the case.
He just... had to keep everything straight as he did so. Such as the palace layout that he'd spent the better part of five months memorizing until he'd mapped out the location/position of every window, wall sconce, and drinking fountain the palace had to offer, and knew it about as well as the back of his hoof.
And today he'd be putting that knowledge to the test with his first real solo assignment; patrolling. Walk the hallways of the palace's east wing, and keep an eye out for anything or anypony that was out of place and might constitute a security breach. A relatively simple but extremely vital aspect of ensuring the safety and security of others who worked at the palace. And he wasn't about to let anything slip past him on his first real day; such as the grunting he'd heard coming from around the bend of the hallway he was in.
He didn't so much charge towards the unexpected noise, as much as he approached vigorously to confront the source and the cause behind it.
He'd been halfway towards loudly and firmly belting out "Halt, who goes there?" as he rounded the bend, but stopped just short of actually getting the words formed and out. The supposed intruder that he'd been preparing to encounter wasn't actually an intruder, but rather a maid who stood next to a pushcart of cleaning supplies.
More specifically, a unicorn maid who was currently struggling with her duties, as she fought to raise her cleaning supplies high enough to reach her intended target.
It was... it was very odd watching her trying -and failing- to do her work. Watching her as she grunted as she tried to reach, swore under her breath as she tried to balance on her hind legs, and even tried jumping as high as she could in an effort to reach the spot she was trying to clean.
It was... it didn't feel right to just be standing there and watching the whole thing playing out like it was. Not simply because it was keeping him from performing his rounds as he was supposed to, but also because he was just standing by while somepony struggled helplessly. That wasn't the job of a Royal Guard, they helped ponies who were in need.
And in the course of performing his assignment of patrolling the halls, he'd happened upon a pony who was in need of help. He'd be lax in his duties if he just left her there to struggle, reasoning that it wasn't his job to intervene.
"Can I help you?"
Or at the very least, investigate the matter and make sure this maid actually worked here, and wasn't a spy who was incompetent in their cover.
The maid in question jumped in response to him speaking up and making his presence known, all the while looking particularly flustered from her exertion as he trotted over to her position.
"No, no, I'm alright," she huffed, "just struggling to reach a really high up spot is all."
He nodded in response, that much being plainly obvious to him.
"So what seems to be the problem?"
"The problem is this isn't usually my station. I normally do floors and windows, but I'm covering for one of the girls who's down with the feather flu. But no matter how much I try, I just can't extend my field far enough to hit that light fixture like it needs to be," she explained, gesturing overhead to the object of her frustration and difficulties.
"That does seem like a problem," he noted as he looked upward at the fixture in question.
She nodded and sighed. "And not knowing what I'd be in for, I didn't think to grab a step stool from storage. If I just had another couple of feet, I'd be able to reach it, no problem."
The first thought that came to mind was offering to go to storage and pick up the ladder. But that would take away from his patrolling the area and potentially distract him from performing his duties. That just wouldn't do. But at the same time, he couldn't just leave her to continue struggling at doing her job.
...
"How much higher would you need to be, in order to get the light cleaned?" he asked.
She sighed in frustration. "Even a couple of feet up off the ground would probably do the trick," she grumbled.
He nodded in response, before slowly crouching down until his barrel was against the carpeted flooring.
"Climb up."
"E... excuse me?" she asked in confusion.
"Climb up and stand on my back. I should be able to boost you up high enough to reach," he explained.
To the best of his knowledge, there was nothing in regulations that forbade such a course of action from being engaged in. He'd encountered a fellow staff member who needed help, and he was in a position to do just that. He was just... helping in the only manner he could think of that would allow him to do that without violating his assignment, or behaving in an inappropriate fashion by levitating her off the floor.
For a while he wasn't certain if she was going to accept his offer of assistance, as she just stood there looking at him. But finally she responded and stepped closer, before slowly doing as instructed and climbed up onto the back of his cuirass, all the while struggling to find some secure hoofing in order to stand up securely without being at risk of falling off.
Once she was ready he moved to stand up... and bit back the instinctive urge to groan in response to the weight on his back. He'd never admit to it, but for a unicorn she was a lot heavier than she looked to be! Far heavier than anything he'd regularly worked with before, either during his time at the Academy, or in the time leading up to it.
He struggled, slowly getting back up onto his hooves, made all the more difficult by the fact he was trying not only work with her weight, but also to not throw her off by suddenly shifting in a way she wasn't prepared for. He had to move slowly, carefully, and very deliberately to account for her weight and balance in addition to his own. Made all the more difficult by the fact that she was trying to not fall off.
It was a slow, tedious process that required his full concentration and effort to stay balanced, but also stay silent and not let onto the fact that this might've been more than he was capable of dealing with. A Royal Guard does not demonstrate weakness!
Finally, after much effort, he managed to rise back to his full height. Which in turn allowed her to try and shakily rise up and stand atop his back, all the while trying to keep her footing secure along the narrow surface area she had to work with.
"Alright, I think I can reach it now," she stated.
He didn't respond, because he didn't have the skill to keep the strain out of his voice if he spoke. Right now it was taking all of his concentration to keep his body steady so she could work and not risk falling off. He had to keep his back straight and not buckle under the weight of her and his armor. He had to keep his legs locked and rigid so they wouldn't tremble and risk throwing her off. He had to put all of his skill at standing at attention to the test.
"I'm almost done. Just a little bit longer."
He didn't nod, as it would've risked throwing one or both of them off balance and potentially send them crashing to the floor. His legs wanted to buckle under the strain, but he refused to let them give out on him. He hadn't spent years training and conditioning his body into what it currently was, to let it fail him right now. He just mentally grunted and refocused his efforts on remaining upright and steady.
Along with hoping/praying that one of his superiors didn't happen upon the scene. He knew that if that happened, he'd salute out of pure reflex before he could think better of it, and send the both of them toppling, because he needed all four legs to keep them upright.
"And... done!"
The statement was so very welcomed right now. But now came the really hard part of this decision; letting her back down without collapsing in the process. He just had to keep it together a little longer as he slowly crouched down, until she could climb off his back.
He wanted to collapse right now. Just let all of the tension in his body go, and just utterly collapse on the floor so he could rest after that. But he couldn't do that. He was a Royal Guard, and the maid he'd helped was a civilian coworker. He was obligated to convey a sense of strength -both mental and physical- in her presence.
And even if that obligation wasn't there, he still couldn't afford to collapse right now. He was still barely into the first hour of his real solo shift, and still had at least seven more hours ahead of him before all was said and done. He was simply going to have to wait before he could relax like his body was begging of him right now.
Although once his shift was done, he was going to head straight for the gym and start lifting weights. His performance right now had just been pathetic.
Now that he thought about it, weightlifting and resistance training. He had access to actual gym equipment now, so he might as well make use of it. Otherwise how was he ever going to be a suitable Royal Guard, if carrying one pony on his back was enough to almost do him in? He needed to get in far better shape.
"Thanks for the lift. I wouldn't have been able to get that otherwise," she stated. "I'm sorry, I don't seem to know your name."
"Private Thunder Strike, Ma'am."
"Well it's nice to meet you, Private, my name's Dust Bunny. Although most ponies just call me Dusty," she explained, reaching out with her right foreleg to shake hooves with him. "That was- oh dear. I think I mussed up your armor. Hold on, lemme take care of that right quick."
The dusting supplies were quickly stowed away in the cart, as others were pulled out and sorted through in search of whatever it was being sought out.
"This should do the trick," she said to herself as she approached him again. "If you'll hold still for just a minute."
He couldn't actually see, but he could feel what she was doing as she went about polishing down his cuirass; he could feel her movements right through his armor as his body moved in accordance with how she moved her hoof about across his back. Either he'd worn himself out more than he'd thought with all of that exertion, or she was a lot stronger than she looked.
"There we go. Shinier than a bit in well water. Just as any proud day guard should be," she commented as she stepped back. "Thanks again for your help, Private. It was nice meeting you, but I've got to get back to my own duties now. This palace isn't going to clean itself, even if that would be nice."
He simply nodded, having very little that he could actually offer up in response. Right now, he had to get back to the performance of his own duties. Along with finding an unoccupied spot so he could properly catch his breath.
