Our Thirty Years War


                                            >With the burnings stars hanging above the castle in the midnight sky, with swirling cosmic plasma, burning quasars, gamma-ray bursts and all sorts of stellar horrors, you marched out, clicking your knuckles and neck.

                                            >Throwing out your right hand, you ripped your silk shirt off, then reached for the sword you had tied to your back. It wasn't going to do anything to her, but it would keep her at a distance.

                                            >You climbed higher and higher, stepping over out onto the castle's rough. The blood-red, spotless moon stood before you, far in the sky yet seemingly so close, and in its horizon, she stood.

                                            >The same horror story playing out overhead roared in her mane and tail. Gone were the dainty gems and stupid silver jewellery. In their place, she wore polished silver armour, much like her Threstals, only more ornate.

                                            "OI!"

                                            >She turned, and the Princess of the moon's eyes bore into you, her brow furrowing. She snorted as you approached.

                                            >"What? Still here? I'd thought a coward like you would've run the moment Celestia did."

                                            "Still here, Demon. Celestia's going be a while, so we're going to have ourselves a little dance."

                                            >She cackled.

                                            >"You're magic resistant, you ugly, insipid, ill-formed monster. Not immune."

                                            "Monster? I'm not the one trying to end the world."

                                            >The wind picked up, your hair flowing with it. Hers always seemed to move with some unseen, unfelt wind, much like her much better sister. But now, it was fully under her control.

                                            >"If you were any other mare, any other creature, I'd offer you a chance to prostrate yourself before me and plead for your life."

                                            >You wryly smiled, rolling your shoulders and pointing the zweihander at her before drawing it back towards your shoulder and placing both hands upon the hilt.

                                            "Were you any other mare, I might consider such an offer."

                                            >Behind her, the blood-red moon seemed to move back. A star overhead exploded, and in her magical grip, a glaive of starlight formed, surrounded by darkness.


                                            >She had not always been threatening to wipe out all life on the planet by bringing about an eternal night. But the two of you had always been enemies.

                                            >Not Shakespeare's Shrewtaming sort of enemies. You actually hated one another. It had started out the two of you merely being poshly passive aggressive to each other. As a guest in this strange land, you'd dare not be anything more.

                                            >And she daren't offend her sister by doing anything more to you than mumbled some insult.

                                            >But as her fear of her sister faded, and her loathing for both of you grew, what had once been merely a look here, a snide insinuation there had grown.

                                            >"Pranks" that ended in hospital visits and surgeries. Open mockery. Murderous glares across the throne room. She had once exiled your favourite maid on trumped-up charges, and in return, you had duelled one of her loyal Threstals and "accidentally" crippled them.

                                            >That one you did actually feel guilty. It had made you stay away from the castle, returning to your travels of this strange and wonderful land, until now.

                                            >Now she was calling herself "Nightmare Moon", talking about an eternal night, and fought off her sister.

                                            >So, you offered your sword, as you had for King Gustav of Sweden, or Ferdinand the Second of Austria, or countless other Kings and Dukes in the war.

                                            >But this time, your loyalty and devotion were true. Your cause just. You weren't just fighting some Protestants, Catholics or whatever else popped up in Germany.

                                            >You were fighting to delay something that a less Godly man would call a Goddess so that another might defeat her. Somehow.

                                            >The how would not matter. You were not likely to come out of this battle alive.


                                            >"Last chance. Bow your head, and we shall take it clean off, Monster," She haughtily offered, spinning the glaive in her grip only to bring it close, the point aimed at you.

                                            "Likewise, Demon," You retorted.

                                            >Immediately, the two of you charged at one another, steel slamming into starlight. Where her glaive met your zweihander, the metal grew red-hot. You twisted the sword, catching the shaft of her polearm just so. Pushing down into the tiles of the castle's roof, you held the glaive in place.

                                            >With practised speed, you reached for a knife sat upon the belt of your trousers and threw it, aiming squarely for the Demon's face.

                                            >The blade slammed into her face and snout but left no mark of any kind. It bounced off, clattering to the ground. With a roar, she ripped the glaive up, tearing your sword out of the tiles and nearly sending you flying with it.

                                            >You skidded down the roof, only saving yourself from falling off by planting the blade into the tiles yet again.


                                            >Hearing the familiar thump of a heavy creature taking to the wing, you looked up to see her flying a few feet off the ground. The blood moon again appeared at her back, despite that not being where it was before.

                                            >She charged, her wings folding by her sides and a trail of blue fire following close behind. Throwing yourself to the side, leaving your sword behind, she flew off the side of the roof, tiles scattered on the wind in her wake. It mattered nothing, for she turned in the air and threw the glaive right at you with the speed and force of a cannon.

                                            >Blinking, you focused and threw your hands out in front of you, just in time to catch the shaft of the polearm, the starlight blade only an inch from your face. In your grip, the glaive started to lose cohesion, melting into cinders that climbed into the night's sky.

                                            >You roared and turned the glaive over in your hand, then as hard as you could, you threw the damned thing right at her. The glaive smashed into her chest, sending her back and exploding into starfire.

                                            >The force threw you back, up the roof tiles. You stumbled to your feet but could not see her.

                                            >Knowing that it certainly hadn't killed or seriously injured her, you rushed back to where your sword still lay planted into the rooftop.

                                            >Like some British King of old, you drew the sword from the stone tiles and held it aloft, both hands upon the hilt, raised and pointed by your shoulders.

                                            >Patiently, you waited. Listened for the familiar sound of beating wings, or her breath or the sound of a furnace wind that signalled a unicorn was casting some arcane spell.

                                            "Come on, Demon of the Moon. I expected better," You taunted. "Your sister would've bested me before I even drew my sword."

                                            >At last, you heard the sound of a furnace wind overhead. You look up but cannot see anything. She was invisible, it seemed, or wore the dark of the night like a cloak.


                                            >A bolt of tainted light, as sharp as a Syrian sword and as hot as molten rock sliced through the air. Thinking quickly, you placed your blade between yourself and the thin bolt of light and swung as hard as you could, moving with the swing.

                                            >The burning light sliced through your blade, but the shine of its near Milanese quality steel helped to deflect the strange spell, directing it to slice through one of the nearby towers, incinerating one of the long banners that hung from it.

                                            >While the stone tower clattered and fell to the ground below, you ran. Half your sword lay melting where you had been, the grip and half the blade still remained in your hand. More of a preversely thick shortblade than a Zweihander.

                                            >Her commanding, wrathful voice sounded from the darkness.

                                            >"You run from inevitability. Harming our sister, usurping the stellar throne, these were merely a necessity. Our duty. Killing you? Be able to watch as my magic melts the flesh off your bones? That we will do for pleasure."

                                            >You hid behind a small parapet, trying to watch the sky and see if a few stars would disappear while she passed in front of them.

                                            "You speak of your desires, but you will not act upon them, Demon. I have slain scores of men, dragons, your own thestrals. I shall doubt I will have..."

                                            >You stopped, noticing the Orion constellation fade out of view up and to your right. You lobbed your sword as hard as you could at where the stars should've been, only for it to smack against something.

                                            >You sprang to your feet, rushing towards a slowly appearing Princess Luna, whose glare could melt through steel. Her horn glowed blue, then that same tainted light fired off with barely a sound.

                                            >The burning in your chest, just about where your liver should be, told you that her aim had been true. But the fact you were still running at her told you that you yet lived and yet had a task to complete.

                                            >You punched her in the face, knocking her back at least a bit. Seemingly shocked that something as mundane as a fist to her snout might move her, she failed to block the second, your left fist slamming into her jaw.

                                            >The sounds of a furnace wind roared, her horn glowed, and she snapped her head from right to left, a beam of starlight carving through the air and slicing through everything in front of her. If you had looked behind you rather than leapt with all your might into the air, you might've seen even the mountains dozens of miles away cut through.

                                            >But had leapt. And as you fell quickly back to earth, you grabbed her horn and pulled it with you, slamming her head into the tiles. She charged another beam of starlight, carving through the castle, but you wrestled with her to keep that thing pointed squarely away from your body.

                                            >Standing up, you pushed down on her head and horn while you moved towards her back.

                                            >Her wings spread out and slammed into your side, making you stumble back. She snapped her head up, but you slid down the roof and narrowly dodged the starlight beam that carved through the air where you had been not a few seconds before.

                                            >You continued to slide, unable to stop yourself, and fell over the edge of the roof. You grabbed one of those great long banners with her symbol imprinted upon it, desperately scrambling to slow your fall.


                                            >You at least survived, entangling yourself within the cloth and falling to the ground with a thud.

                                            >Glancing down your body, you gingerly placed a hand on your lower chest, where a bleeding hole lay. It had cut through the skin, and into the flesh, but had not shot through the other side. Your resistance, however slight, to magic had saved you.

                                            >By the time you managed to stand up, the massive banner laying at your feet, she landed in front of you.

                                            >"And now you realise, human, what you should've realised long ago. We are your better," She taunted.

                                            >Your hand fell from your body and clenched into a fist.

                                            >You glared at the demon mare, at her shadowy mane and tail, and her dark fur, at those damned fangs. Some small part of you pitied her; Despite being an annoying, stuck up shrew, she had been pretty in the way these horses could be.

                                            >But all you felt for the creature before you was disgust. You wanted to hate the mare, not the monster.

                                            >You raised your fists.

                                            "If you require the arcane to beat me, then you are no warrior. But of course not. You are a child, throwing a tantrum because the world doesn't fall to its knees in your presence. It's time for you to grow up."

                                            >She huffed, furrowed her brow, and glared back.

                                            >Her horn glowed again, and she tilted her head down and pointed it squarely at you.

                                            >Your left arm twitched, spasmed ever so slightly.


                                            >The starlight beam shot out from her horn again, but you placed your open left palm between it and the rest of your body and slowly marched forward.

                                            >Your hand burned, the pain immediately, then fell away as that which allowed you to feel pain died under the heat. But you could resist magic, only a little, but enough to close the distance.

                                            >The fire crept up your arm, the skin and flesh burning. Cinders of what you could assume were the bones in your hands flew up into the sky, but you kept moving closer and closer towards her. Only a few more yards stood between you and her.

                                            >You could see her expression, the growing panic at the realisation that you were not yet dead.

                                            >With most of your left arm a burning, melted mess, you still managed to reach her just before she moved or flew back to get away. You grabbed her horn again with your right arm and slammed her head into the ground again, into the stone of the courtyard.

                                            >The burning starfire melted away, and you kicked and punched and kicked at her head, hoping desperately that some amount of physical might could knock her down. But it couldn't. No matter what you could throw at her, she barely felt it.

                                            >You tried instead to climb atop her back. She easily stood up, only for you to wrap your one arm around her neck and place your right hand on your left shoulder, hoping to choke her out.

                                            >But by now, the pain was getting to you. The shattered remains of your left arm may not have been bleeding, the wound cauterised better than anything a barber-surgeon could accomplish, but the pain remained.

                                            >Darkness crept at the edge of your vision, a white-hot burning gnawed at your left shoulder. Your bones screamed in pain.

                                            >And she breathed easily, trying instead to buck you off her back rather than fret about a non-existent threat of being choked out. You fell off her back, panting, unable to stand, unable to fight.

                                            >She shook her head, her shadowy mane fixed itself, then she trotted over towards you. You looked up at the terrible burning night's sky, and she looked down at your face. Your eyes met, your green against her deep blue.


                                            >"Close," She said, almost impressed.

                                            >You smiled, despite yourself, coughing around the blood in your mouth.

                                            "Nothing worse than close," You admitted.

                                            >She was pitying you, it seemed. You absolutely were not close. The fight had been hers from the start. As you knew, it was always going to be.

                                            >You turned your head away, looking towards a stone archway, sliced in half by starlight. Looking through it, you could see a white horse. You thought, for half a second it, that it was death itself, coming to take you away to hell.

                                            >Or perhaps a Valkyrie of the old sagas. Lifting you to Valhalla for falling in battle.

                                            >But blinking, even as your vision clouded over, you saw it was Celestia.

                                            >Quickly, you turned back to Nightmare Moon, and grabbed at her armour, finding some handhold at her gorget.

                                            >She blinked, clearly confused by the action.

                                            >"Die with some dignity, Anonymous. Let go."

                                            >You furrowed your brow, breathing heavily, but refused to let go, even as she tried to shake you off. She stepped back, dragging you with her.

                                            >"Let go!" She shouted.

                                            >You couldn't. You had to hold her in place, just long enough for whatever Celestia was about to do.

                                            >She flapped her wings, lifting you off the ground slightly, but your deadweight was enough to keep her in place.

                                            "Burn with me," You whispered.

                                            >A blinding light shone in the corner of your eye, towards where you had seen Celestia approach. The two sisters would not share final words, but you could die knowing you had helped save this land in some small way.

                                            >Almost enough to make up for...

                                            >You closed your eyes and let the light wash over you. And you let go.


                                            >When you opened your eyes, you had hoped to find yourself at the pearly gates, with Saint Peter reading a book in front of you.

                                            >You had guessed that in actuality, you would not pass through those gates and would burn in hell with the rest of the men and boys who fought in that war.

                                            >You had not expected to end up in a castle much like the one you had been fighting in.

                                            >It had been surprising the first time it had happened. It was somehow more surprising the second.

                                            >You stumbled to your feet, only noticing that your left arm was still there after you had used it to push yourself off the ground.

                                            "Well, could be worse," You reasoned.

                                            >Looking around, this was no grand, opulent castle, as the Castle of the Two Sisters had been when you arrived in that land. The castle was a ruin, an old one. Vines clung to the walls. The roof had a great big hole in it. Mossy stones lay at your feet.

                                            >You blinked.

                                            >When you opened your eyes, the castle was filled with light. Moonlight streaming through the holes in the walls and the roof, but also the familiar arcane light you had grown used to in this land. Now the room had occupants.

                                            >Ponies. Six of them were of the common races of their kind, two unicorns, two pegasi, two earth ponies. And a further two individuals. One you recognised immediately. The tall, graceful, swanlike alabaster form of the Princess of the Sun, Princess Celestia, with both horn and wings.

                                            >Alicorn, you believe she had called herself.

                                            >And another. A smaller thing in her arms, hugging her, with tears in her closed eyes. Her fur was dark blue, her mane and tail a lighter shade, more of a cyan.

                                            >They held each other for a few moments, then the little one opened her crying eyes. And one of them fell upon you.

                                            >The little Alicorn snapped her head towards you and glared in both hatred and astonishment.

                                            >"You!" she shouted.

                                            >Your eyes widened in horrified recognition. It was Luna. Nightmare moon. Only writ small.

                                            "You," You stated, reaching for your back, hoping to find a sword that was not there.

                                            >Celestia turned between you two, realising you were about to fight again and pointed her horn at you. Her look was apologetic; the familiar feeling of being knocked unconscious by arcane means explained why.


                                            >When you came to, you were no longer in a ruined castle. You were still inside one, but rather than cobblestones and slate and vines, you were surrounded by marble, gold leaf and carefully cut grass.

                                            >You awoke in a four-poster bed, the wind gently wafting through a few thin silk curtains hiding a balcony.

                                            >You weren't one for soft beds. You had been a warrior for twenty years, at least since you were twelve, and such luxuries were a strange and unwelcome luxury on your spine. You half feared you'd sink into and would be suffocated by the damn thing.

                                            >So you leapt to your feet, aware you were now in small clothes; A set of clean underwear and a clean, silk shirt. The fact that some pony undressed you while you were asleep gave you pause, as did the slowly returning memory of her Majesty knocking you out with a spell.

                                            >In truth, as did the memory of your arm being melted off.

                                            >You held up your left arm, twisting and turning it over. Not a scar remained. No burn marred its pale surface. You still had all your fingers. Heavens, you believe you even managed to lose a few scars and puncture wounds you had picked up in your long career.

                                            >You walked over to the balcony, pushing through the silk curtains and greeting the day.

                                            >Immediately, you took a worried step back.

                                            >Heights were never a particular favourite thing of yours, but standing on a tall balcony, atop a tall castle, atop a tall mountain terrified you.

                                            >This was no castle of the Two Sisters. That had been, quite sanely, placed near a valley, in a nice, flat bit of Equestria. Wherever the hell this place was, it was atop the Canterhorn Mountain, and if you had dared, you might've looked all the way across the Kingdom of Equestria.

                                            >But you didn't. Instead you wisely, at least in your mind, took a few well-deserved steps back into the room.


                                            >Stepping back from the balcony, you instead searched the room. A bookcase lay in one corner, an ornate mahogany desk nearby. A fireplace stood at the other, at the wall furthest from the window. The four-poster bed dominated much of the room, which likely meant this was merely a guest chamber inside this castle.

                                            >You could not see your sword, or armour, anywhere. You hadn't been wearing any armour in your fight with Nightmare Moon, but surely Celestia might've brought it up to you.

                                            >A knock upon the door soon got your attention.

                                            "You may enter," You commanded, aware it was likely some servant of the Princess.

                                            >Mildly surprisingly, Celestia herself entered instead.

                                            >Remembering your manners, you immediately knelt upon one knee. Had you a sword, you would've placed it over your knee. Had you a hat or helmet, you would've removed it. Had you trousers... You'd probably wear some.

                                            "Your majesty."

                                            >Daring to glance up, you notice her expression is rather more... Unsure, even embarrassed than she usually was.

                                            >"I don't... Ponies do not usually bow like that to me anymore."

                                            "It would be obscene not to bow in the presence of royalty, your majesty."

                                            >"Oh boy. Rise, Sir Anon. We have much to discuss, and I'd rather do it face to face."

                                            >She trotted past me, going further into the room. Once she had moved past me, I stood up.

                                            >"Before everything else, I must thank you for your sacrifice. Without you, defeating the monster who had taken over my sister may have been nearly impossible."

                                            >You nodded but could not so easily accept a compliment.

                                            "It was my duty, your Majesty."

                                            >She turned her head to face me, her violet eyes full of mirth.

                                            >"You may call me Princess, or Celestia, Anonymous."

                                            >That was, again, wildly improper. But you could not refuse your Princess.

                                            "If you wish... Princess Celestia."

                                            >She blinked.

                                            >"Close enough. Anonymous, I will cut right to the chase. You have been away for... Quite some time."


                                            >You nodded.

                                            "I figured as much. There was no castle upon this mountain when I first arrived in this land."

                                            >"Indeed. This castle, and the surrounding city, was created nearly 800 years ago."

                                            >800 years ago? That was... Oh no.

                                            "Your Majesty, how long have I been gone?"

                                            >"Precisely 1000 years and a single day. Same with Luna."

                                            >You didn't care what happened to her.

                                            "A thousand years?... Huh."

                                            >"You are... You're taking this rather well."

                                            >You nodded.

                                            "You're perfectly aware that I was not especially close to any pony, other than perhaps, and I do not wish to step beyond my station or be too bold yourself."

                                            >She chuckled.

                                            >"Yes, Sir Anonymous, I do consider you a friend."

                                            >You nodded.

                                            "Right. Well, I have my arm back, some of my scars have gone-"

                                            >"You also look a bit younger than when I saw you last... Burnt remnant of your arm and bleeding out of your chest notwithstanding."

                                            >It felt weird to be so openly complimented by royalty. Carefully, you took a step back from the Princess, putting a respectable distance between you and the monarch. Well, technically Diarch, but fuck her.

                                            "That is... Good to hear. Well, Princess Celestia, regardless of the loss of time, I'm certain my oaths of fealty still apply. I am your sword, as I have always been."

                                            >You knelt as you said this. Your right hand clenched, eager to leave this place of silk and softness and get back out on the dirt roads of Equestria, slaying dragons, diamond dogs, whatever else your Princess required.

                                            >Celestia sighed.

                                            >"I'm afraid, dear Sir Anonymous, that Equestria is rather a lot safer than when you were here last. And that there will be little that can be solved with base violence."

                                            >Your brow furrowed in confusion.

                                            "I do not understand, your Majesty."

                                            >"Sir Anonymous. While I deeply respect and admire your service as a knight, I wish only to see you and my little ponies live out their lives in peace."


                                            >That was rather unacceptable. You had been fighting since before you were a man grown. You had fought across central Europe as a Landsknecht, one of the last of your kind. You had even likely died fighting in Saxony; it was difficult to remember.

                                            >And after that, for ten years, you had served as a knight of the two sisters, though obviously really only of Celestia.

                                            "Your Majesty, surely there is always a need for a sword?"

                                            >"I'm afraid not, Ser Anonymous. While I do need guards and police..."

                                            "Police?" you asked, unsure of the word.

                                            >"I no longer require warriors."

                                            >You blink, barely believing the words you are hearing.

                                            "Then allow me to become your guard. I served as Gottfried Heinrich Graf zu Pappenheim's guard during the battle of..."

                                            >"Sir Anonymous. I want nothing more than for you to live a deserved long life in peace. You made the ultimate sacrifice to save the world. I believed you were dead. And now you are here once again, I do not wish for you to die again."

                                            "Your Majesty, while I am flattered at your care for my wellbeing, I must protest. I am a sword. A weapon. I am nothing else."

                                            >"And that is what I am afraid of, Sir Anonymous. That you will find a fight you find worth fighting for, even if it means nothing at all. Because you'd rather fight for anything than live for something."

                                            >She paused, allowing you to mull over those words.

                                            >"I can offer you a ducal title, as well as a modest pension and reward for your service."

                                            >Ah. A dukedom.

                                            "I'll rule those lands in your name, gather levies and..."

                                            >"Oh, I'm sorry. A ducal title is nowadays merely that. A title. There will be no lands attached to that unless you purchase property."

                                            "And serfs?"

                                            >"... There are no more serfs. All ponies are born free, free to pursue their own destinies and paths in..."

                                            >You stood up, your fists clenched. So, she considered herself some Italian doge, rather than the rightful queen of these lands.


                                            >But the rage subsided.

                                            >This was not her fault. It should surprise you little. Of course things have changed in a thousand years.

                                            "Your Majesty. I deeply respect your decision, but please. I know of nothing else but warfare, and have no other trade. And I do not wish to be some idle nobility like that of England. Please..."

                                            >"Sir Anonymous. Perhaps in time, in a few months, I will consider you for the guard. But I will be honest with you, and you will listen," She commanded. You could do nothing else but nod.

                                            >"You will enjoy some time away from fighting. You will learn to adapt to this world. You will find happiness outside of war," She ordered.

                                            "Yes, Your Majesty."

                                            >"Call me Celestia. Oh, and one further thing."

                                            "Yes?" You asked, scratching the back of your neck.

                                            >"It concerns my sister."

                                            "Nightmare Moon."

                                            >"Princess Luna," She corrected. "She is, much like you, a stranger in this time. She will need time to adapt, and I will not fail her as a sister again. I will not. And to that end, you will cease your antagonism of my sister, and she will do the same with you."

                                            >You blink, then chew on nothing for a few seconds.

                                            "Might I speak freely, Your Majesty?"

                                            >Celestia nods.

                                            "When last I met your sister, she was attempting to cover the world in endless night, burnt my arm off and nearly killed me. We were united in attempting to stop her. I do not believe my, as you put it, antagonism of your sister is..."

                                            >"Anonymous," She commands. You fall silent.

                                            >she sighs.

                                            >"I have been without my sister for one thousand years. For a thousand years, I have been alone. Without you, without her. I will not lose you both to your petty rivalry."

                                            "I will be dead in a few years. You'll have plenty of time..."

                                            >"I do not want the cycle of pain to repeat itself. You and I both had our roles in what happened to her, and it will not happen again. You need not be adversaries."


                                            >You nearly spat, only your well-honed manners preventing such open displays of disgust.

                                            "She will not keep to such a compact. It was she who first started our 'antagonism'. I was not fool enough to begin a rivalry with royalty on my lonesome."

                                            >"And I will end it. For all three of our sakes. Haven't you seen what hatred and bitterness can do to a pony first hoof? What it had nearly done to you?"

                                            "I gave my life willingly and was content to die there."

                                            >"Of course you were, Sir Anonymous. For what had you to live for?"

                                            >The question takes you off guard.

                                            >"I am not a fool, dear Anon. As you yourself said, fighting is all you had. And you were approaching middle-age. Nearly forty, if what you say of your age is true. You would not have been able to continue fighting for much longer. In a world on your own, with none of your kind around you, the only thing left to you was to fall in glorious battle. I accepted your sword at your own behest, as well as my own necessity. At the time, I was sorrowful I could not return you home, if even you wished to return there, but could not offer a better life."

                                            >She places a firm hoof on your shoulder.

                                            >"A thousand years has changed my mind. I will not see you destroy yourself. Nor her herself."

                                            >You swallow.

                                            "You're probably right. I have no wish to return to that war."

                                            >"I know."

                                            >The two of you stood in prolonged silence until she dared to break it.

                                            >"I want you to talk to her. Alone. Without trying to kill one another."

                                            >You gritted your teeth.

                                            "Right. You are aware that she burnt..."

                                            >"Anonymous. Please."

                                            >You sigh but nod your head.

                                            "Alright. Let me get dressed then. And please, warn her."

                                            >"She never went to sleep; I talked to her before you. Sorry, but she is my sister, and it has been... A very, very long time."

                                            >Despite everything you felt towards the bitch that had nearly killed you, you couldn't entirely blame the good sister for wanting to reconnect, even if it was with a monster.


                                            >The question of how Celestia had managed to pre-make clothes for your body despite not knowing you were still alive even merely a day ago played on your mind even as you approached the dark halls of the apparently previously abandoned lunar wing of the castle, something made even after the two of you had fought.

                                            >Either she had managed to whip up this blue silk doublet, black silk trousers and faux leather (apparently it was "cruel" to wear real leather nowadays) in only a few hours or had them on hand.

                                            >But that was a question for either a tailor or a philosopher, which you were neither.

                                            >But you called on all your warrior's strength to knock on that door as calmly and politely as possible.

                                            "May I come in?" you asked, careful to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

                                            >The Pony, much smaller than Luna as you knew her, who opened the door displayed no such attempt to hide her own annoyance.

                                            >She scowled, her pale blue eyes piercing into your skull as if she might charge up that tainted light again and slice through it. Nonetheless, the only hint of her magic was the aura around the door's handle.

                                            >"Celestia?"

                                            "We spoke, yes. As I am to understand, you two did as well."

                                            >"At least someone remembers how to talk properly. Come in then."

                                            >She marched off into her own chambers, clearly not actually wanting you to enter them, but clearly not having much choice.

                                            >That same lack of choice drove you to step inside the darkened room. You had been inside her chambers once, in the old castle. There, you had been inside to place an explosive device in her desk while she was away. Not one strong enough to kill or seriously harm her, but enough to get rid of that ridiculously awful poetry of hers.

                                            >Unsurprisingly, it was dark, with dark blue curtains blocking out all the light from the many wide windows. The whole room was painted in dark blue, with purple and rare silver highlights on some of the skirting.


                                            >Above you sat a massive dark painting of the night's sky, complete with constellations. Unconsciously, you winced, your arm burning with phantom pain.

                                            "Nice place."

                                            >"It is nice without half of it being rubble."

                                            >You sighed. So that was how it was going to be.

                                            "Indeed."

                                            >You weren't going to apologise. Why the fuck should you apologise to the mare who nearly killed you? Who probably did?

                                            "Should we not even attempt diplomacy?"

                                            >You look down from the ceiling to look down on her. It was odd she was so small. You disliked it. When you were literally eye to eye, your hatred of one another at least felt equal, despite her being royalty. This? This was like... Bullying a child.

                                            >She sighs.

                                            >"You are right. A thousand years is far too long to hold a grudge."

                                            >The words slip out of your mouth before you even consciously register the question.

                                            "Did it feel like a thousand years?"

                                            >Her glare turns nearly murderous, her horn starting to glow yet again. But, with a few deep breathes, the aura faded.

                                            >"A millennia can pass fairly quickly when nothing changes. But yes, we were quite conscious."

                                            >A genuine twinge of pity made you shudder.

                                            "For me, I was nearly dying one moment, blinked, and was in that ruined castle the next."

                                            >Luna grimaced.

                                            >"We are not certain which is worse. We suppose that, for you, we were trying to murder you one moment and crying in Celestia's arms the next?"

                                            "Yes."

                                            >"...If we are to... Cease our previous war, then perhaps we... That is, I, should start on the right hoof. That must have been greatly unnerving."

                                            "I have yet to interact with anyone but you or your sister. I... I fear for when I do so."

                                            >Luna simply nodded.

                                            >"We spoke briefly with the six ponies who freed me from Nightmare Moon. We have awakened in a strange time. We barely understand their bizarre manners of speaking or their jokes. Or their roles in society. Things... Things made sense back then."


                                            "Royalty, Nobility, Peasants?"

                                            >"Quite. Now, the nobility is merely wealthy, not truly powerful. The Peasants are educated, apparently sometimes to a greater standard than the nobility, if our sister is to be believed. And... There is apparently another royal."

                                            >Your eyes widened.

                                            "You have another sister?"

                                            >She shook her head, trotting over to the couch to sit, sitting down facing away from you.

                                            >"Not so much. Another Alicorn, though not a blood relation."

                                            "Praise be. I feared I might have a replacement for your animosity."

                                            >The joke didn't seem to land, the diminutive Alicorn simply shaking her head.

                                            >"You were from a strange land."

                                            "Yes. But it was rather familiar in many ways to this. Only difference was the politics and the beings who inhabited it. Culturally, we were much the same."

                                            >"We see."

                                            >An apologetic half-smile crossed your face.

                                            >"We will have to educate ourselves on this new world. Learn how it functions."

                                            "Well, failing that, we could try and kill each other again. Perhaps your sister will exile me to the moon instead next time."

                                            >Luna snaps her head around, glaring at you for a few seconds. Then, quite strangely, she nodded.

                                            >"Amusing. We won that fight."

                                            "I'm rather sure that you were the one exiled to the moon for a thousand years. A strange victory, no?"

                                            >Your damned pride...

                                            >She huffs.

                                            >"We can hardly believe that victory consists of bleeding out on the stones, missing a limb, weakly holding onto our armour and waiting for someone else to finish the task."

                                            "Considering how lopsided the odds were, I consider that victory. I can't shoot starlight out of a horn on my head, Princess."

                                            >She stood up off the couch, now turning her whole body to face you.

                                            >"You did not even scratch me."

                                            "How could I? Back then, even Celestia had trouble. Now, you're, what, a filly with wings and a horn?"


                                            >It was remarkable that you could hear yourself say things you know will insult, that you know you'll regret, but cannot seem to manage to prevent yourself from speaking them.

                                            >"No, you are a grossly malformed alien monster with not a scrap of..."

                                            >Both of you, apparently simultaneously, realised you were approaching yet another fight. Yet another row. In what surely was a Christ ordained miracle, you both fell silent.

                                            >Even more incredibly, you both managed to say the next words simultaneously too.

                                            "Sorry"

                                            >"Our apologies."

                                            >You move back, away from the Princess to sit at a nearby chair next to a desk. From this seating position, you were at least closer to be eye level with her, as long as she stood.

                                            >The two of you looked at one another in silence for a few seconds. Not sizing each other up for a fight, as you might've done not a few months ago, but merely... Observing? Watching?

                                            "Do you want to talk about... Nightmare Moon?"

                                            >Luna shook her head.

                                            >"My sister once talked of your distaste of talking about your war experiences. You might name some incomprehensible name, someplace we will never see. But remain silent on what actions you took part in. What you may have ordered and done. We... I think you might understand us on this."

                                            >You nodded.

                                            "Alright. Something lighter then?"

                                            >"We do not necessarily have to talk at all. Our sister is not listening at the door. We can simply remain in silence.

                                            "We could. But that seems like a betrayal."

                                            >She nodded.

                                            >"It does, does it not?"

                                            "Alright then. What shall we discuss?"

                                            >"... Stars?"

                                            "I'm not an Astromancer."

                                            >"Astronomer," She corrected.

                                            "Weaponry?"

                                            >"We are no warrior."

                                            "Yeah, the fact I won that fight gave that away."

                                            >She glared. You hoped the playful smile you forced hid the genuine challenge and made it seem you were joking.

                                            >"What do you do for... Amusement? Other than fighting?"


                                            >You ran a hand through your shoulder-length hair.

                                            "Well... I lived in London for a few years before I began my mercenary career. I went to a few plays there."

                                            >"A few plays? What are human plays like?"

                                            "I can speak of English plays. Germany wasn't much in a theatre mood when I arrived there for the war, and France has always been terrible at them."

                                            >"You are attempting to dodge the question, as per usual."

                                            >You shook your head.

                                            "I'm attempting to formulate an answer, Moonie."

                                            >"Do not call us that," She warned lowly. It was rather hard to take the threat seriously, coming from a rather small pony.

                                            >You wave off the command.

                                            "Alright. So, I saw a production of Hamlet. Shakespeare, the guy who wrote it, has been retired for a while, but he still had people putting on his plays. It's about a prince of a Kingdom called Denmark, whose dad was murdered by his uncle, who married the prince's mother to usurp the throne. One night, a ghost of his father appears, commanding him to seek vengeance..."

                                            -

                                            "...And they all die, of course."

                                            >Raptiously listening in near-complete silence for a good few minutes, only occasionally asking questions on context, Luna blinked.

                                            >"Human plays are rather bloody."

                                            "Be glad I didn't talk about Titus Andronicus. I hear that one's really good. Wasn't on while I was in the city."

                                            >"It is... Interesting. You say he talked to a skull?"

                                            "Yeah. Has this whole bit about how this funny guy is now just dead, and soon nobody will even remember him."

                                            >You can sense the room darkening.


                                            >"...Our threstrals... Those that did not die in the coup... They're all dead."

                                            >You swallow but simply nod.

                                            "I had a few friends back there, too. They're all gone."

                                            >"We suppose our sister is all either of us has left?"

                                            "Suppose so. Huh."

                                            >The fact that a thousand years had passed still hadn't actually sunk in. A thousand years was an impossible stretch of time for you to contemplate. Back then, there were probably still Romans running about, doing Roman things. Mark Anthony, Ceasar, all that.

                                            >"... How do you... How did you cope? With being so alone?"

                                            >The question makes you visibly wince, but you nod.

                                            "Isn't that why you... Well, y'know."

                                            >"We did not think we could somehow become even more alone. To think, the I who went mad actually had it better than we do?" She asks, laughing bitterly.

                                            "... I didn't."

                                            >"Hmm?"

                                            "To answer your question," you add. "I didn't. Well, you have to remember I was coming from a world destroying itself. The war I was fighting in... It was a nasty one. My friends were either dead or far away. I was doing things no man should have to do. Living day to day, from meal to meal, thinking nothing of life, love or gods, but only of survival. Of when my next meal would be, how much I could take the next time we held a city to ransom. There was nothing to... Nothing to really lose."

                                            >"No family? No loved ones?"

                                            >You shook your head.

                                            "My family were minor nobility in Saxony. Last I heard, my older brothers were dead, my father was dead. My youngest brother was either imprisoned by the Swedish or dead. My mother died of the plague."

                                            >"... So, when you came to this world as the only human..."

                                            "I wasn't missing anything at all. Nothing tied me to that world. But back then..."

                                            >"We... I'm sorry about Shining Glass."

                                            >She was the maid she had managed to get exiled. A... "Friend" of yours.

                                            "I'm sorry about Polaris. Truly."

                                            >She smiled softly.


                                            >You cannot help but smile back.

                                            "That... Been meaning to admit that to you for a while. That might have been one of the worst things I've ever done. Certainly the worst thing I've done here."

                                            >"Yes, it most... Sorry."

                                            >Her ears flicker.

                                            >"Our war, our fighting. It has hurt a lot of those closest to us. And they're all gone. All but her."

                                            "It has. Despite trying to hurt one another, we've outlived everyone else caught up in our fight."

                                            >"Sort of... Makes it all pointless, doesn't it?"

                                            >Why? You want to ask. Why did she hate you from the moment you met?

                                            >But that meant asking why you hated her back as soon as she did. Why you never tried to deescalate things, to reach a compromise. To sit down, like a fucking adult, and talk. Why did...

                                            "It does."

                                            >Glumly, the two of you sat in silence. But she eventually speaks up.

                                            >"We do not think we can repair the damage we have done to one another. Even if the wounds have gone from the surface, even if we apologise to one another. We can't be friends."

                                            "Agreed."

                                            >"But... Maybe... Maybe we can leave each other alone? Do something with our lives other than hate one another?"

                                            >Easier for her. She had a duty, a rank, meaning, a purpose. Yours was apparently gone in this new age of peace. But you nod. Your problem, not hers.

                                            "Alright. That sounds agreeable. Stay out of each other's ways, be polite to one another, and certainly not start arguments in front of Celestia?"

                                            >"And no talking about whom, between the two of us, could win in a duel."

                                            >That was difficult to agree to, but compromise was required.

                                            "Fine."

                                            >And for at least a week, that compromise held. You barely saw one another in the halls of the castle. You ignored the other existed.

                                            >Of course, much to your own surprise, it wasn't belligerence that made you glad to see the Princess when you eventually did, but a combination of boredom, loneliness, and... Well, wanting to talk to someone who might relate to your problems with this strange world.


                                            >"Whoa, so, you're like... An Alien?"

                                            >You grit your teeth, crunching the goblet of wine in your bone-white grip. Taking a long gulp of the blood-red wine, you carefully wipe your mouth with a handkerchief, your hand falling onto the grip of your hastily forged cavalry sabre.

                                            >Apparently, modern blacksmiths were not used to forging swords and certainly had no idea what "cavalry" was. But you couldn't wear a Zweihander to a party, and that would take months to craft.

                                            >As much as you'd like to start swinging a greatsword and cleaving through these insipid nobles and Noveau Riche.

                                            "Yes."

                                            >"Wow. So, you're also a knight? Like, from the old tales?"

                                            >It took all your resistance to prevent yourself slapping the stallion in the mouth and giving them a duelling scar. To speak so insolently to their betters was all but a sin. Would he dare speak to the Princess herself this way?

                                            >But you know violence is seen as the greater sin in this horrific present.

                                            "Yes. I served Princess Celestia in the years of..."

                                            >They changed the calendar after Luna's banishment.

                                            "Between 10BLB and 1ALB."

                                            >"By Celestia! You must have a few stories to tell!"

                                            >You take another glug of wine, polishing off the goblet.

                                            "Not really."

                                            >"...Oh."

                                            >You glare witheringly at the colt, who at least had the good manners to gulp and hide away from your glare.

                                            "And it's Duke Anonymous. Mind your manners and your station."

                                            >The pony stumbled backwards.

                                            >"Oh, I apologise, my wife is calling for me. Coming Ivory!"

                                            >Almost spinning on his hooves, he skitted off.

                                            >"You have a way with your words," A mare drolly said behind you.

                                            >You turned to look at this interloper, a middle-aged mare with a grey stone coat and a mane of silver and violet.

                                            "Your kind are always shocked at my appearance. I wish to maintain that air of mystery."

                                            >"By insulting and scaring everyone?"

                                            "If it works."


                                            >She tittered and held out a hoof.

                                            >"Twilight Velvet."

                                            >You reached out with your own hand, taking it off the hilt of your sword.

                                            "Duke Anonymous von Unsterblich."

                                            >"A strange name."

                                            "The surname is new."

                                            >"Whatever a 'surname' is. Well, allow me to welcome you to this little soirée."

                                            "Thank you."

                                            >"You'd do well to mind your own manners, Duke Anonymous. Ponies may be afraid to insult you openly, but your sight is not great enough to see them behind your back."

                                            >You scoffed.

                                            "I care nought for what this rabble prattles about while out of my presence."

                                            >"Perhaps not. But even you must admit it undermines your authority when they do so?"

                                            >You grimace but nod.

                                            "I suppose so. Very well, while in your presence, mare, I shall mind my tongue. What do you do, might I ask?"

                                            >"Oh, just a writer."

                                            >A smile flashes across your face.

                                            "A writer, oh? Plays?"

                                            >"Books."

                                            >You let out a small sigh.

                                            "Took me a while to learn to read Equestrian, and I still lack anything close to penmanship. So, what is your rank?"

                                            >"...My Rank?" She asks.

                                            "Your rank? Duchess? Marquis? Dame, Lady..."

                                            >She laughs.

                                            >"I don't know, I think my grandfather was a Sir, other than that, not a clue."

                                            >Your eyebrow twitches.

                                            "I see."

                                            >"My son is the captain of the Guard, and my daughter is now one of the 'elements of Harmony'. She freed Princess Luna from her awful possession."

                                            "Yes. 'Possession'. I am surprised they allow commonfolk into the guards, never mind becoming the head of the order."

                                            >"Manners, Duke Anonymous."

                                            "My apologies. I'm certain your son is a good, brave man. I believe I met your daughter for all of six or so seconds."

                                            >"Ah yes. She wrote about the weird bipedal thing that appeared once she freed Princess Luna. I suppose that is you?"

                                            "Apparently so."

                                            >"I would love to interview you sometime. Your life would make a most excellent story."

                                            >You shook your head.

                                            "From what I understand of this Equestria, they have ill want of stories of battle and bloodshed."


                                            >Velvet waved a hoof.

                                            >"Oh, preposterous. They don't want to live through them; who would? But living vicariously through you? I suspect there is a great audience for that."

                                            "Not for all of it," You state darkly. You shake your head, holding up your left arm. "I'll warn you; readers may not want all the gory details of what happened to this."

                                            >"Tried to get the stranger going?" She asks cheekily.

                                            "Stranger?"

                                            >"It's... Nevermind."

                                            "My arm is no stranger to me."

                                            >She cackles to herself, wiping her eye with her hoof.

                                            >"Of course, Duke Anonymous."

                                            "Call me Sir Anonymous."

                                            >"Of course, much less formal," She says drolly.

                                            "A certain formality is requested of me at all times. Only my foes hear vulgarities drop from my tongue."

                                            >"Boy, I think I worked out where Blueblood gets it from. You're not some distant ancestor of his, are you?"

                                            "I do not know of whom you speak of. And I have no descendants."

                                            >"Oh? I understood from what little I could read up on you that you and the Princess were close."

                                            >Your eyes narrow.

                                            "Princess Celestia was my liege; I try not to dishonour them. The other loathed me, and I her."

                                            >"Loathing can so easily give way to other passions. A good half of my romance novels rely on that basic fact."

                                            "And sometimes, loathing merely ends in bloodshed."

                                            >"Well, try not to do that again."

                                            "Thanks for the advice," you say drolly. "I was wondering if I should challenge the sun to a fight."

                                            >She titters.

                                            >"I knew you had a funny bone in there somewhere. It has been surprisingly nice to talk to you. Try not to kill any of the guests."

                                            "No promises," you say with a lazy salute.

                                            >She laughs, then trots off towards a dark blue coated colt.

                                            >While you walk towards a servant, hoping to get a new goblet of wine to gulp down, a hushed silence fell over the crowd.

                                            >You turn, looking around and following their gaze to spot what made them fall blessedly silent. Princess Luna, the small Alicorn.


                                            >She stood tall, proud. Seeming to match every astonished stare that fell upon her. Only meeting your own eyes changed her expression. Not haughtiness or pride, nor annoyance and hatred, but a brief flash of familiarity and surprise.

                                            >You nod.

                                            >She does not return it, unsurprisingly. You turn, grabbing a wine goblet out of the magic grip of an astonished unicorn servant.

                                            >The ponies try their best not to look as if they were crowding around the Princess of the Moon. To her credit, she did not look sheepish or afraid at the crowd. Far more annoyed at their little steps closer.

                                            >Free of their eyes, you step out to a little dark corner of the garden, a stone bench near the garden wall.

                                            >And for a while, you sat there, the setting sun warming your face.

                                            >Noise and crowds could be as exhausting as a fight and needed just as much time to recuperate. Luna, for once in her life, had been extremely helpful and distracted the entire party with her entrance. Doubtless, the fickle nobles would desire to crowd around her, gain her favour.

                                            >Well, you could hardly blame them. You had tried to do the same with both sisters a thousand years ago.

                                            >You just knew it wouldn't work on the bitch.

                                            >When you closed your eyes, you swore it would only be for a moment, but to your surprise, by the time you opened them, a unicorn mare was sitting on the other bench opposite you in the garden. She had a dark blue mane and coat, both nearly matching. Her eyes were a soft purple, and her horn glowed with the crackle of magic.

                                            >Confused, you looked up the garden.

                                            >Luna still stood there, surrounded by ponies.

                                            "How is it that you are in two places at once, Princess Luna?" you ask, turning back from the party on the upper lawn to the unicorn opposite you.

                                            >Her brow rose.

                                            >"How... Impressive."

                                            "I know an illusion when I see one. If I squint, I can see those ponies behind that Princess Luna's body."

                                            >"Good eyes. We suppose that we art here for the same reason tho art?"


                                            >You nod your head.

                                            "I believe so. It seems weird to have nostalgia for an aeon ago, but I do swear nobility were less annoying a thousand years ago."

                                            >The glamour over herself fades, revealing the real Princess Luna for only a moment, but a quick glance up the garden shows the illusion is still there, still being talked at. Her false image immediately reforms around her.

                                            >"Not only the nobility. Half of those ponies have no title at all, merely enough wealth. More than the nobles, in fact."

                                            >You turn back to her, smirking.

                                            "Of course, back then, having wealth made you a noble."

                                            >"And being a noble gave you wealth," She added.

                                            "As is right and proper."

                                            >"Weren't you a mercenary in your old world?" She points out.

                                            >You shrug but concede the argument before it begins.

                                            "True. I was the third son of a minor noble family. My options were to join the priesthood or join a company. Father tried to get me to apprentice to a banker in England. I fled back to Europe after the defenestration of Prague."

                                            >"... We knew none of this."

                                            "Well, why would you ask?"

                                            >"Indeed. Why would we?"

                                            >You're not sure if that's rhetorical or not

                                            >The conversation dies, having no spark to sustain it.

                                            >Something gnaws at your stomach, twisting and biting. You look back to the party, at the various unicorns and other ponies talking amongst themselves, drinking, enjoying the summer evening.

                                            >Not for the first time, you stare at the crowd and think on home.

                                            >A pain that you already know isn't really there scratches at your left arm, the same one she burned.

                                            >Turning to her, you ponder on if she feels the same way. Content to sit here and let the fawning crowds talk to an illusion.

                                            >An illusion of a happy, or at least communicative, Luna. An illusion of a Luna for whom people find interesting. Desire to talk to. Something she could take in her non-existent hands if she only could drop the illusion.

                                            >But why would either of you? You had nothing in common with them. A thousand years out of time, an entirely different species. It was true for you both.


                                            >A sad smile dances on your lips for a few seconds as you look at the Princess in disguise as a normal unicorn.

                                            "Why aren't you talking to them?"

                                            >She looks back to you.

                                            >"We have nought in common with their kind. It is easier to allow the shadow to take our place."

                                            >You shake your head.

                                            "You have some things in common. You are at least pony kind."

                                            >"Thou have some things in common. Thou art not royalty," She says with a wry smile.

                                            "Duke, that's not far off."

                                            >"It is indeed close. But we believe thou have a saying about that."

                                            >You smirk.

                                            "Close is nothing. It's worse than nothing," You repeated.

                                            >"We suppose that is why you were close to none but our sister."

                                            "Yes, well, that would make one of..."

                                            >You stop, growling at yourself.

                                            "Why do we do this?"

                                            >"This?"

                                            "We were having a pleasant conversation, you or I will say some light barb, and immediately we default to cutting words, if not actual cuts."

                                            >"Are you asking why we hate one another, Duke Anonymous? The answer is simple. We..."

                                            "We?"

                                            >"...We've done a lot wrong to one another."

                                            "Yes, but why initially? There's no doubt that you and I have hurt each other. But why did you... No, why did we both loathe one another at first sight?"

                                            >"Anonymous. We wish to be straight with you. You are a warrior, a bloodthirsty, wrathful man who despises the living and sees no greater purpose than murder. You art a monster wearing the skin of an animal, barely holding yourself back from killing innocent people. That is why we hated you."

                                            "And you're a pathetic, ingrate, tempestuous, jealous, bitter sad sack who snaps like a cornered fox at any who show you anything less than pure adulation. You blame the world for your own problems that you yourself cause. That is why I hate you."

                                            >Luna smirks.

                                            >"Well, it seems you have your answer."

                                            >This does nothing to settle your stomach nor dull the ghostly pain in your arm.


                                            >You force yourself to shake your head. To listen to your own advice and be the bigger man.

                                            "Dammit, that's not good enough. Luna, look at us-"

                                            >"That is Princess Luna of-"

                                            "Look at us! We're both hiding from normal people. Ponies, whatever. The point is that once again, we both find ourselves in a strange land, in a strange time. And what do we do? We run and hide! We've both fought dragons and monsters, and even each other, and we're afraid of a party of ponies!"

                                            >"WE ARE NOT AFRAID!"

                                            >Her shout draws the attention of a few partygoers, but if they realise who the disguised unicorn really is, they don't show it, instead returning to their conversations.

                                            >She swallows something, then her teal eyes settle on yours, her brow furrowing.

                                            >"We are not afraid. We simply are not..."

                                            "Not what? Willing? Able?"

                                            >"We've been inside the moon for a thousand years. Apologies if we are not yet fully ready for this!" She shouts again. "We are sorry we aren't as much as a social butterfly as thou art. Truly, we stand in awe of your abilities as a party guest."

                                            "That's my point. Alright, I'll admit it. I am... Tired. I'm approaching my forties, I think. I'm getting too old to throw myself at every party, every function, for my life to be turned upside down every few years."

                                            >"You're forty?"

                                            >Quite why the question amuses you, you couldn't say, but you definitely stopped mid-rant to look at her confused expression, stare blankly for a few seconds, then laugh heartily.

                                            "Ahaha. Yes. I was born in 1598 of the year of our lord. I left Earth... Died, I think, in 1627. I spent about ten years as a knight here, which means I must be about 39."

                                            >"We do not wish you to take this as a compliment-"

                                            "Thanks?" You say, a little confused.

                                            >"But you look more akin to how you looked when we first met than you did when we last met. We mean, when you fought against Nightmare moon."

                                            "Oh, well, maybe that rainbow magic did me some good."


                                            >Looking down at your hands, while they are still calloused from a hard life of fighting, it was true many of the previous injuries on your body had faded; A puncture wound on your arm, various scars all over your body, a few creases in your face when you looked in the mirror.

                                            >By Jehovah, you did even get your left arm back.

                                            "Huh."

                                            >"We suppose we art younger too. We hope not for much longer, being the same size as many of these ponies is..."

                                            "Luna."

                                            >"Princess..."

                                            "Stop it. Luna, you're not me. You need their company. You need them to appreciate what you do, who you are. Nightmare Moon knew that. If you don't realise that part of you, that you aren't a loner by choice, that you really are a Princess of the Realm, then the loneliness will eat away at you, bit by bit, until nothing but loathing remains."

                                            >She opens her mouth, then closes it.

                                            "Don't end up like me."

                                            >"Celestia likes you."

                                            "Celestia loves you. Celestia loves everyone."

                                            >"Everypony."

                                            "Whatever. She will love you unconditionally, no matter what you do. But those people..."

                                            >You gestured towards the crowd.

                                            "They're like me, despite the lack of thumbs. They won't love you unless you let yourself be loved. And you do want to be loved."

                                            >She, surprisingly, sadly nods.

                                            >"It is... Difficult. We are so far gone from our home... Yet it is supposed to be right there."

                                            >She looks up, and you follow her gaze, looking up from the walled garden and up towards Canterlot Castle. You can just make out her balcony from here.

                                            >"And what of you, Duke Anonymous? Do thou require love? Does thou desire it, in your heart of hearts?"

                                            >You turn back to her, smirk, and shake yourself.

                                            "I'm the only one of my kind, Luna. There's only me, and I only need me."

                                            >"Thou never feel... Alone?"


                                            >All the time.


                                            "Never. I stand above them. Literally, I'm twice as tall as the rest of them. I have nothing in common with them, or Diamond dogs, or Dragons, or whatever else lives in this world."

                                            >"What a sad existence."

                                            "Hardly. People are terrible. I've seen what people can do when they think they are right, when people congregate. My war would've never happened if people had just stayed apart. Private. Worshipped whatever they desired in the privacy of their own homes. Only by seeking companionship in faith did they rip the continent apart."

                                            >You wipe your brow.

                                            "No, I have no further need of other people. And I have no need of them either. But you do."

                                            >"You are afraid."

                                            "I'm tired."

                                            >"You are no more fit to lecture me on the necessity of friends than I art towards thee. Thou disdain for people is a shield to protect yourself from the burden of the truth, that thou art and forever shall be alone in this world, as perhaps you were in the last."

                                            >You smirk.

                                            "Perhaps. Who better to hear it from then, than yourse..."

                                            >You stop.

                                            "Huh."

                                            >You stand up, look towards the back door of the garden, and start to walk towards it.

                                            >"Have thee no manners? Do not walk away from us in the middle of a conversation!"

                                            >You turn back towards her.

                                            "Then come with me. We aren't going to like them overnight, but we have to start somewhere. And I think we've all each other have got to start with."

                                            >"What?"

                                            "You heard me. If we aren't able to make any sort of decent conversation with them-" you nod towards the crowd. "Then we should start with something closer to ourselves. Each other."

                                            >"What?"

                                            "By the lord, I expected you to rant for much longer there. Yes. You and I are... Well, we at least have something in common. That's more than we can say for almost everyone else. So, why don't we start again?"

                                            >"Begin again? You cannot be serious. We have tried to kill each other."


                                            >You shrug, shocking even yourself with the casual way you ignore such a fundamental truth to your turbulent war of the last few years.

                                            "That was in the past. We were both so much older than, we're both younger then that now. And besides, this war of ours has to end at some point, right?"

                                            >She blinks.

                                            >"Is it not already over. What more can we do to each other when we had both nearly killed the other. Well, I nearly killed you. You assisted Celestia and aided in our banishment. That is not the same thing."

                                            "Yeah, you won."

                                            >The words left your mouth without even a thought, a moment's hesitation. Of course, it was true. You knew it to be true. You had thought those words as you bled out on the cobblestones. When once the idea of admitting to losing a fight against a hated foe would've been impossible, like Sisyphus finishing his task, now it seems self-evident.

                                            >Even Luna seems shocked at the casual admittance. You push past her surprise.

                                            "So, I believe it's time for a new war. One in which we fight against them. Force them to listen to us, and force eachother to speak."

                                            >"So you admit it? Thou art as miserable as we?"

                                            "I'm only me."

                                            >She smiles and glances only a moment towards the illusion of herself further up the garden talking to some noble; you couldn't care what their name was.

                                            >"Such a curious thing; Our shadow, a projection of nought but magic and lies, is able to speak with such ease, move past our own failures and loathing, and simply be. We do not even truly control the words it speaks, only loosely guide its conversation. Why, is she not the perfect Princess? The true Princess, what they all want?"

                                            >You walk back and crouch down before the Princess. Looking into her eyes, you can see the beginning of tears.

                                            >You hold your hand above her shoulder, almost touching her, but thinking better of it.

                                            "No matter how beautiful, how exquisite, a lie will always remain a lie."

                                            >She turns to face you once again.

                                            >"You know lies, even when you speak them?"


                                            >No


                                            "I'd like to think so. Come. Let us find this world beyond these stone walls."

                                            >She pauses, looking deep into your eyes. Then nods. The illusion further up the garden fades, and the unicorn before you shifts and turns back into the Princess. That soft blue fur, that lighter blue mane, those teal eyes.

                                            >While the party guests look around in shock at the disappearing Princess, the two of you stand. Your eyes briefly meet with the writer. A mirthful look passes across her face as she spots the two of you. You blink, wondering if you should acknowledge her.

                                            >the moment passes, she turns to talk to some panicking guest, and you turn back to the rear door of the garden.

                                            >"Have thee anywhere in mind?" Luna asks.

                                            "No. We shall simply have to see what is out there."

                                            >The two of you march off, pushing through the wooden door and out into the streets of Canterlot, the sun finally starting to set, the amber light beginning to fade away, and the stars daring to poke through the red sky.