"Father Time has his way 4 [RGRE]"
By La-Phantoma1 (https://pastebin.com/u/La-Phantoma1)

URL: https://pastebin.com/UiEM3rmf
Created on: Wednesday 17th of April 2019 12:26:50 PM CDT
Retrieved on: Friday 30 of October 2020 08:03:23 AM UTC


>Through a single eye, you watch the sunrise above the water.
>Your hand grips the Taffrail, bone-white fingers against the varnished wood.
>This was not your first voyage aboard a ship like this. Far from it. You used to captain one after all. Splitting the waves from Griffonstone, to Yakistan to the Arctic and Antarctic wastes.
>But that had been another life. One you now remembered.
>Just before the daylight consumes them you spare a glance towards the moon and stars. Luna's domain. 
>It had been two years since you had last seen her. Last time, you had been bleeding out in your own tomb, trying to hold desperately onto life. So afraid to let go.
>Since then you had died two more times. Nearly died at least three more. Your wanderings had been dangerous. After all, one didn't usually lose an eye in safe places.
>Some part of you wanted to return to the distant land of Equestria beyond the sunset. See the Princesses again. See Celestia again.
>But you had to...
>God, the next sentence is going to make you sound like some Yuppy twat on their gap year.
>You needed to find yourself. Be complete.
>There were still lives of yours left to find. Some short, lasting mere minutes before they were cut down by some wild beast. Some dying of dehydration or starvation after a few days.
>You wouldn't return till you were whole.
>Taking your hand off the taffrail, you stare into your empty palm, flipping your hand over.
>You felt so old. At least three hundred years of memory coursing through you. From the blasted deserts of Labyrinthia to the Badlands, to the empty wastes of some distant reindeer trading outpost in the Arctic circle. You had seen it all.
>Every part of your mind used to ageing and decay swore that your hand should be a wrinkled, liver-spotted mess. Heck, it had been that way in some past lives.
>But there it was. Unblemished, bar a few light scratches. Smooth skin.
>Is this how she feels when she looks in the mirror?
>You glance up towards the sun again, silently asking.
>That she doesn't quite recognise her own body in that reflection? That feeling of phantom age?
>Probably not. She has always been immortal, as far as you are aware. You? You can remember a time before all this. Before you arrived in this place. Sort of.
>You can see a house in the snow. A dinner. A few scant names and places, maybe some fiction, maybe some true. But it's scrambled. A fog.
>You recognised the symptoms, having suffered it at least twice in your long, long life.
>Alzheimers. The decay of the mind. The fog of memory. The long shadows that blocked...
>You spat over the side of the ship.
>Fuck this moping. You hadn't been alive for as long as you had just to stand here and whine.
>You stretch your arms out, and smile towards the rising sun you were heading away from.
>You had set off from a port in Western Equestria heading south-west, towards Zeborica
>There were a few more lives left you had to track down. Some were gone by now. Not only was everyone who knew you back then long dead (which hadn't been much trouble so far), but there was shockingly little information to go on.
>Turns out in a world with hundreds of sapient beings one more isn't that special or noticeable.
>Perhaps that was how you had managed to stay under Celestia's radar for the last two years. For all your pride, you just weren't big news here.
>And besides, any archives left would obviously have been edited by that strange magics that made them all forget you.

>You spare one last look towards the moon and stars. Hers now. From what you had heard and read in the papers whenever you might've been close enough to Equestria to get news, she had thrown herself into her duties. Reformed, returned to her true self.
>Not that small thing in the desert who admitted she thought herself a fake. The true Luna. 
>She had even apparently taken on some of Celestia's responsibilities in ruling. Perhaps now the Monarch of the sun had free time now, no longer having to also be the regent of the moon and stars.
>Probably not. She always threw herself into her work. Other than the Summer Sun Celebration two years ago, you honestly don't know the last time she left that castle.
>Poor girl
>Taking your mind off the alabaster alicorn, you instead try and remember something.
>This life you were tracking down you had heard about years ago. Celestia had mentioned him once or twice. Never in a way that suggested she liked that reincarnation of you.
>Far from it, she seemed to fear him. Fear this version of you.
>Still, by all your sins remembered. You had to find him. He was one of the last reincarnations of you that you knew about, that were both definitely you and had affected the world enough to be remembered.
>The Beast in the Long Grass was his name. He had died about five hundred years ago in Zeborica. Before Farseer, Brightsmile, the Wanderer of the Badlands and other lives of yours you had found in the last two years.
>After him... Maybe that might be it. It wasn't all of the myriad lives you had lived in this world, but it was a nice spread of them across the last thousand years. Maybe you could go...
>You were about to think of home. Should it surprise you that home was some white marble castle at the top of a mountain, and not some... Dark house you see in your dreams. That home was here?
>You had spent a few decades in that castle after all. You knew the ponies there, friends of yours from a lifetime ago.
>Well you weren't there yet.
>Time to help sail this ship. Even if you were supposed to be a passenger, you had experience with sailing.

~#~

>You hear the crackle of static and the hum of lightning. Your joints itch.
>Even as you hurry to tie everything down, you swore that there was no storm scheduled for today. 
>You were still fairly close to Equestria, which should mean nice regular weather and calm seas. A far cry from the North and distant East.
>And as you and the rest of the crew look around, scratching their hooves on their heads, none of you can see any hint of a storm. Not even a dark cloud.
>You look to the captain. And she just shrugs, as she orders her crew to return to their normal business.
>While they return to climbing the rigging and scrubbing the deck, you search the sky desperately for what might have caused that noise.
>All you can see against the brilliant clear blue sky is a single streak of red flying away from the ship. It almost looks like living fire. Whatever it is, it's flapping its wings...
>Wait.
>You've seen her before. You weren't an idiot, you had been the head of Celestia's household for nearly forty years, you knew her own...
>Something bumps into you.
>You were so distracted by watching what was clearly Celestia's pet Phoenix Philomena fly off that the bump takes you by surprise, sending you to the floor.
>You scratch your head as you push off the planks, turning to see what exactly bumped into you from behind.
>Before you stood a Pegasus. A small thing (relative to you, a lot of them seemed small). She, clearly she, had white fur across her entire body. Long pink mane and deep violet eyes. A small, cautious yet apologetic smile on her lips.
>Even before she opened her mouth to apologise before you even needed to see whatever illusionary cutie mark she had or even wait for her to admit it you knew who this was. 
>Try as she might to hide it.
>You feel a sudden rush of emotions run through your head. Joy. Excitement. That urge to simply hug her. To run your hand through that illusionary mane and hold her. 
>But also trepidation.
>After all, despite appearances, you had put two and two together pretty easily and worked out that this Pegasus that had clearly just teleported onboard the ship was none other than the ruler of the most powerful nation on this earth.
>Moving aside your fear and guilt, you reach out to her and hug her before she even opens her mouth. You can feel her open and close her mouth against your shoulder, trying to perhaps think of something to say. To even attempt the deception she intended.
>But after a moment she doesn't bother, simply placing her forelegs around your shoulders and nuzzling into your chest as you sit up.
“You're going to have to try better than that to deceive me, Celestia. I'd recognise you anywhere.” You whisper.
>You can hear sniffles, though you aren't quite sure if they are hers or your own.
>”It was always difficult to hide the truth from you.” She says.
>It's her voice. It seemed almost a lifetime ago since you had last heard it. Memories of a dozen lives and hundreds of years mixing up your sense of time and presence.
“Well, you've done a good job there before.” You lightly jape.
>She simply holds you tighter at that. You ignore the stares and questioning looks of the crew, no doubt wondering how this strange Pegasus got aboard and why she's hugging that strange biped.
>After nearly a minute, you gently push her away from your chest so you can look into her violet, shaking eyes.
“How did you find me?”
>She drags her sight from yours, glancing towards the distant fiery plumage of her pet bird.
“Of course. Why?”
>”Why?” She asks gently, though you can hear the surprise in her tone.
>”To find you. To bring you home.” 
>The words should be comforting. You know you should be touched she cares enough about you to try and bring you back. But...
“I can't go back there yet. I have to... Well, we talked about this years ago.”
>”Why? You... You remember who you are don't you? Even after you died, you remember. You're whole. I know from...”
>You smile a tired, wry smile.
“Keeping tracks on me huh?”
>”You think all those mares able to use that time scroll just so happened to find you?”
>You run a hand through her illusionary pink mane, and she ever so slightly leans into your touch. Of course, she still keeps her eyes on yours.
“Explains a lot.”
>”I'm still right Anon. You remember. Brightsmile and Farseer, Nergüi, the wanderer. Countless others. They are you again... You...”
“There's still more left.”
>”Lives so short that no one knew they were there. You'd never hope to find the first person...” 
>You interrupt her.
“There's still The Beast in the Long Grass.”
>Shockingly, despite her alabaster coat, you can see the blood drain from her face. Her expression turn from joy to terror.
>Behind her, you can see one of the Zebra crew glances towards you upon hearing those words, then turn away to go back to her job.
>”Anon. I beg of you. Do not pursue that beast. Come with me back to Equestria.”
>You shake your head.
“I have to know.”
>”There are things that people are not meant to know. Anon, please.”
>Her eyes... Those damned violet eyes. Shaking, watering. Pleading.
“Sorry Celestia. It's...”
>You take your hand out of her mane and scratch your head.
“It's like I'm a puzzle with a piece missing. One last piece. And him, that distant continent, is all I need.”
>”Why? Aren't you happy with who you are?”
>Her question unnerves you slightly. Her reaction to all of this does. She hadn't been this fearful of you being taken prisoner by Nightmare Moon, by you finding out about this... Cycle of death and life.
“Come with me. Help me find him.”
>There are few people you'd rather help you. She considers the request.
>”Anon. I...”
>She desperately wants to say something. Tell you something. Maybe you already know what it is. 
>But the words die on her tongue. Fear taking a grip of that ancient immortal.
>She sighs.
>”What you... What we will find there, you may not like.” 
“I've experienced some things in my lifetimes.”
>”Not like him.”
>Ironic.
>Her tone, the serious glint in her eyes. The fear. It scares you a little. All this, for just another one of your lives.
>But she relents.
>”I trust you Anon.”
>You sense she wanted to say something else there.
“One last life to hunt.”
>She shivers at those words, before looking down to the deck and nodding to herself.
>”One last...”
>Whatever she added to that sentence, you couldn't hear.
>You reach out to the Monarch of the sun, and she tosses aside that regal mask to reach her head forwards and let you scratch behind her ear.

~#~

>The two of you spend most of the voyage simply catching up with one another.
>You tell her of the odd journey across the world. Of discovering the past of the wanderer of the badlands, of Farseer, of Emantle and Starwright. Of half a dozen other names and lives that were now your own.
>When you are done, she smiles, and Celestia tells you of her busy life at Canterlot. Of her sister returning not only to rule and power but also to society. She even mentions she missed you, bringing a grin to your face. She tells you of the Changeling invasion, of the wrath of ancient Discord you had missed being out of the country. Even telling you of the new Princess Twilight Sparkle, though you knew of that already.
>She had come quite far from bitching at you and you at her in a hot air balloon it seemed.
>”She doesn't remember you though.” Celestia admits sadly.
>The thought hadn't quite crossed your mind, but it is a fair point.
“Twilight?”
>”You did die before she became a Princess. As far as she remembers, a Pegasus Stallion named 'Cloudy eyes' appeared in her study one morning, hung out with her for a few weeks, disappeared from her life and died.”
>You shake your head, laughing once against at Pony naming convention.
“You know, when you simplify it like that it doesn't sound very exciting or interesting.” 
>”Should it?” 
“Well, I'd like to imagine that life had its share of adventure. I did help stop Nightmare Moon.”
>”As I and even Twilight remembers it, you got captured by her.” 
>You can see the growing grin on the disguised Princess of the Sun, and gently flick her snout to send it away.
“I went to distant Labyrinthia.”
>”Walked around for a few days in the desert and died.” 
>You let out a quiet laugh.
“I did get stabbed.”
>”If anything, more proof of your martial weakness than your bold adventurism.” 
>You try desperately to come back at the Princess.
>And fail, shaking your head with a wry grin on your face.
“You try adventuring sometime.”
>”Is that not why I am here?” Asks the Princess with a smile of her own.
“I suppose so. Though I thought you just wanted me to go back to being beneath you.”
>You take a moment for her brain to catch up with what you said before 'correcting' yourself.
“Working beneath you.”
>You can see the blood rush to her face, and her tail swish behind her slightly.
>”We... Ahem. I... How... How old roughly are you now Anonymous?” 
>You can see a desperate change of conversation for what it is, and abide with her for now.
“Let's see. Brightsmile was 80, so about 57 years. Plus two, plus 25 or so for Nergüi, plus 30 for the Wanderer...”
>You continue to mumble for a bit, adding up your various lives.
“I'm about...  312?”
>Celestia smiles.
>”Catching up to me then.” 
>You tilt your head.
“You wear it better. Believe me.”
>She blushes ever so slightly more.
>”I am wearing an illusion right now.”
“Celestia. I worked with you for fifty-seven years, I think I know what you actually look like.”
>”Beneath me.” 
>You can see her ever so slightly lick her lips at that.
“Of course.”
>You scratch behind her ear again, letting her rub her head against your hand and fingers, before asking her another question.
“Is Luna all right? I hope she didn't take me, you know, dying on her too badly.”
>You keep scratching as Celestia desperately fights off the bliss she's feeling to answer your question.
>”She's...”
>The Princess of the Sun, divine ruler of Equestria, the most powerful nation on earth, moans ever so slightly as you add your other hand to the mix, scratching beneath her chin.
>She shakes it off, perhaps hoping to distract you from what just happened.
>”She was only slightly perturbed that you died on her. Once I was able to confirm from my spies that you remembered your life, she was content.”
“Did she ever mention that chat in the desert?”
>”Which?”
“One we had whilst I had a hole in my chest?”
>”No?”
>Huh.
>Maybe Luna didn't want to let her sister know you and Luna considered each other brother and sister. 
>You couldn't possibly think why.
“Oh, just something about her being Nightmare Moon. Great stuff, I'm sure if I didn't have a hole in my chest at the time I would've added more to the conversation.”
>”She returned to her full self once she got back.”
>You smile in pride.
“Good. I had hoped so, what with her now raising the moon.”
>”And Sun. While I am away from Equestria. It is liberating to leave the castle and country. I haven't for years. Why, the last time was to actually hunt down you.”
>Wait?
“Hunt down me?”
>She pauses.
>”You... Do you remember? When I came to The Wanderer to talk to him about... This?”
>You did remember. Three hundred years ago, Celestia came to a dingy camp-site in the Badlands to find you particularly. She had hoped the knowledge of your reincarnation cycle would... Help you? Make you remember?
>Instead, you sort of killed yourself.
>Fucking pansy.
>Still, you would hardly call that 'hunting you'
“That's it?”
>Celestia stares into your eye, violet staring into green before she shakes her head clear.
>”No. No more lying. Whilst it was not the last time I got to leave the castle for an extended amount of time, I was referring to the time I was asked by a council of Zebra tribes to hunt down the Beast in the Long Grass.”
>Ah.
>You can see why she might have not wanted to mention that.
“You hunted me down?”
>”A great many Zebra's had tried. Even I had difficulty in it.” 
>She steels herself for a moment, all contentment and joy leaving her face as she bores into your soul.
>”Do you know how he died?”
“No. Best as I could read up before I left, a coalition of tribes managed to banish the foul spirit monster or something.”
>She chews on something for a moment, forming the words carefully.
>”Attempts to simply hunt you in the long grass failed. You'd spring traps on entire hunting parties, leaving none left. Trying to bait you into Villages usually ended with the Villages burnt down. Using Shamans to try and bind your spirit to their own and force you out into the open... Did not end well for the Shamans.”
>You can see a distant fire in the iris of her eyes as she stares at the planks of the deck beneath the two of you.
>”That was the first time in a long time that I had run into a Reincarnation of yours. The last one was a knight errant in Saddle Arabia a century before. Emantle. Before that, Part of a cult in Griffonstone. I knew how dangerous you could get. You once united a Kingdom after all by sword and word alone.”
>”Burn him out. Create a circle, enclose him within it, and set fire to the grass. Burn him inwards, trap him. I tried at least twice to talk you out of this. But you would have none of it. And you were...”
>She scratches her hind with her back leg.
>”Only getting more dangerous. So I and the tribes burnt the grass. Burnt away anywhere you might hide in, burnt away your traps and hideouts. Burnt away abandoned village after abandoned village. Till at last, I cornered you at the roots of a great tree in the middle of ashen grassland.”
>”Still, you wouldn't give up. Still, you fought to your last.”
>For a few moments, the Princess of the sun is deathly silent. As if waiting for your judgement, your disapproval. For you to be angry she killed a version of you.
“You did the right thing.”
>Celestia looks into your eye, confusion clear on her face.
“I'm not acting under any delusion that the 'Beast in the Long Grass' was anything but an edgy cunt. Were he not me, I'd pay him no mind and go back to Equestria with you in a heartbeat.”
>You hold up your palm for a moment, staring into it before continuing.
“But he is me. And I need to know why. Why exactly I, and he is me, I shall not delude myself otherwise, would do these things.”
>You smile softly to her.
“And make sure I would never be like him again.”
>”You aren't the same man.”
“I can't know that for sure. Not yet.”
>Celestia, perhaps agreeing with this idea for the first time, nods.
>You pat her head one more time, staring into her brilliant eyes, watching as they close in contentment for just a single second before starring up at you.
“Shall we go topside? I'm sure Zeborica is coming into view now.”
>She nods, rubbing her head against your hand before the two of you climb the stepladders up to the top deck.

~#~

>You trot onto the balcony, passing through the single door.
>Sure enough, your head of household sat there on the bench, simply enjoying your Sun. Your creation.
>He turns to you, his green eyes showing his smile just as much as his mouth.
>”Celestia? Hadn't expected you here.”
>Despite the surprise in his tone, you can hear the joy and excitement in his voice.
“Skiving off are we?”
>Anon laughs sonorously. Deeply. You enjoy that laugh.
>”Aren't you too?”
>You titter as he runs a hand through his greying hair.
“I suppose so. Enjoying the sun?”
>He glances towards your sphere.
>Feeling the rays of the sun of his face.
>”It is nice. A few hours out of my week to sit here and enjoy it. I'll be back to the hustle and bustle of running this castle soon enough.”
>You shake your head with a grin, moving carefully to sit beside him on the bench on this tiny balcony, carefully placing your four legs beneath your body, awkwardly trying to sit down.
>Anonymous laughs. If it were anyone else, you would be sure they would be laughing at you. Well, given that they saw the crown and your title, perhaps they would not dare.
>For him?
>You were... Pretty sure he was laughing at you.
>Well, you know he was.
>Dick.
>”I can move you know.”
>He does shuffle over slightly, allowing you to finally put your ass down on the bench.
>For a few moments the two of you sit there in quiet contentment, glancing across what truly must've seemed to be the entirety of Equestria. From the distant mountains, the small village of Ponyville, the Everfree.
>The wind picks gently at your mane and his hair, both flowing slightly like water in a cool stream. You could almost imagine being anywhere else but here.
>Anon turns to you and smiles gently.
>”It's nice to take some time out. I rarely see you get the opportunity.” 
“Neither do I.” 
>You could admit that to him. There was so much you couldn't. The times you had met before, before even hiring him. The diary, the words you can...
>Can't even admit to yourself.
“Why here?”
>Anon doesn't show for a few seconds that he even heard your question, instead closing his eyes for a moment and sighing gently, clear joy on his face.
>”As opposed to my own private balcony, or the grand one of the court?” 
>You nod.
>He gestures to the sky, to the land and mountains.
>”That.”
“Makes a difference from the stuffy castle.”
>He chuckles.
>”The grandest castle in all the known world, stuffy?”
“Try staying in it for a thousand years.” 
>970 really.
>”I suppose anything begins to feel stuffy after that long. Even that grand expanse.” He says, nodding to the view.
>You shake your head.
“The longer I wait, the more things there are out there. Things to see, creatures to meet. To talk to, to laugh with, to share time with...”
>”To love?” 
>The question makes you stumble on your words for a moment.
>”A great regret in life. To know I shall never see the totality of it all. I love this place, its people and even you.”
>He gently places his hand against your rear. For most others, given how he acted in his wild youth, he would've been hitting on them.
>But you were you, he was older now. You knew it wasn't so.
“Even I?”
>He turns to you, taking his gaze away from the sun and lands.
>”What? You didn't think I stuck around because of what you paid me?”
>You begin to sweat, ever so slightly, as you stare into those green pools.
>You wanted to lean in, just a bit, and ask him to clarify that.
>You remember those eyes. Shaking as they tried so hard to stay open. Breaking as you told him the truth. Barely sparing you a glance. Looking at somepony else. 
>Glaring at you, with fury and murderous intent.
>You had seen those eyes on dozens of faces, and somehow each time they meant something different.
>More than anypony else, you could see their temporary nature.
>You were always aware that when ponies looked into your eyes, they were temporary, that their time on this earth was short, that they would decay and leave.
>But they never came back. His did.
>But they weren't the same. They would only look at you a certain way once. And he was greying, his own sight beginning that slow march of decay.
>And try as you might ignore that very fact, to live in the moment for once, to forget the plans of the future and the regrets of the past...
>You just couldn't.
“I figured room and board had tempted you too.”
>Anon grows confused for a single moment, but after it passes he puts on that same jovial mask he always wears. Matching your own.
>He turns away from you, back to Equestria, the skies and the mountains.
>”I suppose you're right. I shall be needing them for a time.”
>You know what he meant by that. He realised what held you back, if not exactly why.
>Blinking for a few seconds to clear your sight, you look away from him and stare at what he was looking to.
>”I don't think I'll be getting up for a bit. Do you want to sit next to me for a while?”
>There are half a hundred things you want to explain, tell or say to him.
>But they die in your throat.
>Instead, you nod quietly, and simply rest your head on his shoulder, and watch the sun's slow descent.

~#~

>You stare into that long grass. Swaying softly on the wind.
>”Celestia?” One of the Zebras asks.
>You turn to the little zebra.
“Yes?” 
>”It shall be dark soon. I believe you'll be making it dark at least. Perhaps we should head into the village. Waiting here and watching won't bring them back any faster.”
>You nod softly to the Shaman, sparing one last glance towards the great grass sea.
>You had last seen Anonymous a century ago.
>Before that, fifty years ago.
>And before that, five hundred years ago from now.
>Then, he had ruled a kingdom. Had shaped an entire people.
>Died saving the world.
>Died for you.
>You knew he came back. News of a brand new species suddenly appearing occasionally reached your ear from some distant part of the world.
>Sometimes you wouldn't hear about him for nearly a century, before he turned up leading a rebellion in Labyrinthia. Ironically, against the very government he had once created.
>You knew him to be a man capable of great violence. His campaigns uniting Labyrinthia or in the Badlands against the Changeling hives taught that much.
>But you also knew him to be a man who built things. Who created as much as he destroyed. 
>He was change, for good or ill.
>But this one...
>This one seemed to revel in destruction. Pointless, violent destruction. He'd burn villages, massacre hunting parties. Half of the country didn't believe him to be a physical creature of flesh and blood, but a demon sent from the dark plains beyond this world.
>You knew better.
>And that scared you. What might drive him to this?
>You watch the swaying grass once more. Perhaps hoping to divine an answer from the grass as tall as a zebra swayed.
>But the grass is silent.
>You look to the sun, and aid its descent, as you have done for hundreds of years, and follow after the Shaman.
>The Zebra's had been most kind to you, offering you their largest hut to sleep in. Grateful that you were willing to come all this way to deal with this 'Beast in the Long Grass'
>Would you have put in all this effort if you didn't know it was Anonymous? 
>If it weren't for that burning question as to why he was doing this, why he was acting so unlike the King everyone now knew as Nergüi, would you be here?
>For the first time in a century, you had left your council of regents in charge of the country. Apparently because this threat was too important to leave to anyone else.
>But that wasn't true. A cadre of guards, or perhaps a few experienced unicorns, could no doubt deal with this.
>Anonymous was simply a man. Of flesh and blood, without magic.
>So why you?
>You shook your head, clearing yourself of such questions as you entered your hut. You would join the Zebra's for their dining ceremony, then take to the air beneath the light of Luna's prison.
>Alone, you would fly across the great grass sea and try and find Anonymous.
>For now, you took off your jewellery and regalia with your magic and sighed.
>You spare a glance towards the small mirror in the room, polished bronze rather than brilliant silver and glass.
>You look... tired.
>You have been since your sister and Anonymous had gone. Beaten down by rule. Beaten down by it all.
>Perhaps...
>You drop the spell, and look into the black rings around your eyes. The ones you had to cover with magic or makeup, less the world see you as anything less than the Goddess of the Sun.
>For if you were not that infallible Celestia, then maybe you were wrong to banish Luna as you had done. Perhaps you could've talked her down, as Anonymous had tried. If you could make mistakes, if you could grow tired, then you had thrown away a thousand years of Luna's life for nothing.
>And...
>You couldn't accept that.
>You had to be Celestia, the Goddess of the Sun, regent of the Moon.
>Because if you were anyone else...
>There's a great commotion in the village, and your attention is dragged away from the mirror.
>Quickly, you raise the spell again, throwing on the accoutrements of rule and rushing outside.
>There were cheers all around, Zebra's celebrating, crowding around the outskirts of the village.
>Had the hunting party returned?
>Had they returned with Anonymous?
>Was he dead?
>You rushed over, flapping your wings as quick as you could and landing in front of the crowd, in front of the four Zebra's sent out into the grass.
>Sure enough, held up by two hooves, was Anonymous.
>He smiled softly at you.
>The first thing you noticed was the eye patch over his right eye.
>Then, the fact he looked... Young. Mayhaps the youngest you had ever seen him.
>You knew what he looked like as he aged. This was an Anonymous barely older than maybe his early twenties.
>And that was a problem.
>Because you knew Anonymous, the Beast in the Long Grass, to be in his mid-thirties by now. 
>This wasn't him.
>”Nice to see you Celestia,” He says.
>And its earnestness scares you a little.
>The answers to this question rushed through your mind.
>Mayhaps the beast had died and he had reincarnated again in the grass by pure chance?
>But then everyone here wouldn't know that the beast was a human and looked like Anon?
>Mayhaps he had found some way to make himself younger?
>But you knew of no magics that could do that...
>”He came without a fight. Just surrendered to us. I could hardly believe it!” One of the Zebra's explained excitedly.
>You knew him better than that. Anonymous would never surrender, especially this one.
>You had to take charge. Sort this out.
>The crowd were beginning to chant that he should be killed, but Anonymous showed no fear, simply looking at you.
>You silenced them with a raised hoof.
“Before we sentence him to his punishment, whatever that might be, I shall interrogate him.”
>He chuckles beneath his breath at some private joke. You glare into his sole green eye.
“Alone.”
>The Zebra's glance amongst themselves, perhaps wishing to argue with that. To take their pound of flesh from Anonymous now.
>Anonymous simply smiled that brilliant, honest smile.
>Eventually the village acquiesced to your command, and dragged Anonymous to the hut you were staying in, his hands bound behind him by rope.
>Even being escorted and possibly walking to his death, he walked tall. Proud. Fearlessly. As if he feared naught. As if he wished to be here. It unnerved you. For even if this was not the Beast in the Long Grass, he was still a dangerous animal. There were no men like him.
>You open the door with your magic, and Anonymous is shoved inside, recovering after the slight stumble. The crowd gathers around the hut, waiting.
>You steel yourself for this, and walk inside alone.
>As soon as the door closes, Anonymous twists his hands around behind his back and breaks the bindings.
>You ready yourself for a fight, your horn pointed directly at him, your wings raised.
>And in return, he simply raises his hands.
>”Sorry,” He says in that voice like rolling thunder. “Zebra's are shit at rope knots.”
>He sits down on a table, glancing towards a too small chair and then back to you.
“If you could escape at anytime, why are you here?”
>”In the cosmic sense?” He asks with a wry grin.
>Your eyes widen in recognition. He always sarcastically responded with that...
“In the sense that they outside want to kill you for what you have done.”
>Anonymous chuckles softly to himself again.
>”Right. I suppose I did it once, though I've yet to remember that.”
“Answer the question.”
>”All right. I am Anonymous. But not quite the same one out there in the Long Grass killing innocent people.”
>That...
>Was a singularly confusing answer.
“Are you another reincarnation of his? If so, how do you remember he existed?”
>”Yes, I am. But he's not died yet.”
“What? There are two of you?”
>”Yep.”
“... How?”
>”You sent me.”
>You grit your perfect teeth, your stress nearly breaking the illusion spell.
“I did not...”
>”I'll stop running you around, as cute as you get when that happens.”
>Cute?
>”I'm from the future. About... 500 years or so. You and I were here to try and let me remember this life. The life I become a murderous twat for some reason.”
>Future you?
“Why?”
>”Because by that point I remember my pasts lives. Or at least I can do so with a little help. And I need to know about this one.”
>You nod your head, even as you are pretty confused.
>”Usually, I'd search records for the first sapient that my life would meet and talk to them, try and get them to remember me. But I couldn't do that this time because...”
>Anonymous runs a hand through his hair.
>”Because this fucker killed her.”
>You aren't quite sure how to respond to that.
>A gauntlet of questions are running rampant through your mind.
“Prove it. How do I know you're not lying?”
>He smiles softly. You can see the reflection of your violet eyes in his green one.
>”Luna is safe and well, learning to rule again. My name was Nergüi, and Emantle. Gaerian the mad when I ran that cult.”
>He laughs to himself at the end there.
>Sure enough, they are the names of the corpses Anonymous had left behind, but perhaps he had simply read that in a book somewhere.
>You mention that fact.
>He nods, somewhat agreeing with your point.
>”Nergui's, my, last words were that he was scared to die, shivering on that castle roof. Those words have stuck with you ever since.”
>That was... A bit more intimate, but that could just as easily be him knowing Anonymous' last words and guessing your feelings.
>He can sense you aren't convinced.
>”When we first talked to one another alone, nearly five hundred years ago, my first words were that I disliked the pomp and circumstance of your court. That I could almost tell you hated it as well, but kept up appearances because that was what you believed a ruler had to do. I told you of my and my brother's court in Labyrinthia...”
>A nostalgic smile grows on his face as he pauses for a moment to reminisce.
>”Where we'd drink and fight with each other, or play 'Pin the tail on the donkey' with an actual donkey.”
>Anonymous has the sense to look a little contrite at that and mumble “Poor guy” beneath his breath.
>Then he smiles and laughs to himself, trying to get you to get in as he does so.
>”And you told me that given how terribly Ponies hold their liquor you were pretty sure they'd start an orgy on the floor of the throne room.”
>Despite your trepidation and suspicion, you titter to yourself at the memory.
“Remember that time we tried it and it did happen?”
>Anon barks out a loud laugh.
>”Fuck, I had forgot that! I think that's because I was ridiculously drunk by that point. Can you remember if I took part?”
>You shake your head, a smile on your lips.
“You and I had gone off alone away from court anyway. You passed out in the bathtub in my chambers covered in vomit.”
>”Damn. Came so close.”
>You smile, then violently shake your head free of the nostalgia and glare at him.
“Wait! No! You're not off the hook yet! You might have...”
>He stands up. The same height as you, yet somehow he seems to loom over you. And for some reason, you aren't afraid.
>You're certainly something, but you can't... Or don't want to put a hoof on it.
>”Celestia. I am that man out there, killing innocent people. I hate that, but he is me. And I need to help you stop him.”
“Help me stop him?”
>”Perhaps I ought to explain why exactly I am here.”
>He runs a hand through your mane, almost without a single thought.
>He touched you without a single hint of fear. 
>You almost cry, it had been so long since you had felt physical affection.
>You push that back as he sits back down on the table.
>”In the future, but before me now, you and I were researching everything we could on him.” 
>He points outside the hut, presumably to the Long grass.
>”I questioned you on what you knew, and it was surprisingly little.”
>An obvious question bothers you.
“I know time travel is a fixed loop. Nothing you do now shall change your past. How could she... I not mention that we had this conversation?”
>Anon nods.
>”I have a few theories why Celestia didn't bring it up, but we shall have to wait and see.”
>He looks at you in silence for a few seconds, perhaps trying to divine the truth simply by staring at you.
>”Perhaps she wanted to make sure you and I met now. Perhaps she had forgotten, though I doubt that. Perhaps...”
>He shakes his head.
>”Whatever the answer, the fact she was more than willing to send me back here means she wants me to be here, now, looking at you.”
>You almost shudder beneath the weight of his stare, but you are the Goddess of the Sun, and not even Anon... Anonymous, shall make you pause.
“So, I shall have to remember to send you back in five hundred years?”
>”I'll doubt you'll forget this.”
>You doubt that as well.
>”Regardless why you will send me here, I am here for a singular reason. To kill...”
>Once again, he points towards the walls of the hut.
>Towards the Great grass sea.
>”To help you kill him.”
>You really really don't think that's a good idea. You can't trust the very man you are trying to hunt down with helping you.
>They are the same person, as he himself admitted.
>You didn't need him.
>You didn't want...
>”Please.”
>His words interrupt your chain of thought. And as you stare into those eyes, you remember the times you had seen them.
>Unlike the anonymous on that Castle roof, he wasn't afraid.
>But just like him, he wanted to...
>Perhaps needed to help you.
>And all doubt clears as you look at him.
“Okay.”

~#~

>”You better come up with some convincing bullshit to explain me.”
>You glance towards Anonymous, smirking despite everything.
“Come now, lying is half of rule.”
>He titters, then places his hands behind his back in a gesture of non-aggression. One he'd need once the two of your trot outside that door.
>”After you.”
>He bows slightly, gesturing to the door with his shoulder.
>Taking a quick breath, the two of you walk out, he in front of you, you behind. Snatching only the briefest glance at his well-formed ass.
>There are shouts and arguments the moment the two of you are outside, the Zebras calling for his death. Anonymous, for his part, takes the thrown rotten fruit and veg to his face and body like a champ, barely flinching.
>”Kill him!” They shouted.
>”Hang him!” They demanded.
>The man himself simply looked to the sky, looking towards the sun for the briefest of moments.
“This man is not the Beast in the Long Grass! Not the one killing innocent zebras!”
>You trot in front of him subtly using your magic to push back a few of the zebra's clearly trying to get close enough to kick or bite him.
>”What are you talking about... Your majesty.” One of the shamans says, adding that last bit on only as a formality.
>”The two of them share the same aura. Look near enough identical. They are the same creature!”
“They are not the same thing. This is a...”
>You glance towards Anonymous before continuing. 
“He's one of their kind sent to hunt down the rogue one.”
>Anonymous looks to you, his green eyes momentarily full of mirth before he steels himself and adds to that.
>”That thing in the Long Grass killing hunting parties and villages needs to be put down. To that end, I have been sent here to do just that.”
>To be fair, that was sort of true. It was the particulars that were different.
“He and I have come to an agreement. Together, we shall go out there and hunt down the Beast.”
>The crowd looked anxious at that. Some, no doubt, were absolutely afraid that Anonymous was the murderer out there. That he had somehow tricked you. Others, worried that having an immortal goddess leave their village would leave them vulnerable in turn. Others just wanted to kill someone that looked like the thing that had killed their friends and family.
>”I have to kill him. If not, he shall just keep coming back.”
>That was an... Interesting addition to the lie. And again, mayhaps metaphorically true.
“That's true.” You lie.
>The crowd seemed to begin to calm down, putting away their rotten fruit and veg, probably because most of the village's supplies of them was already on Anonymous' clothes.
>One of the shamans steps forward, a worried expression on her face.
>”Celestia. You are a Goddess, do you truly need this creature to aid you?”
>You and Anonymous share a look with one another.
>Maybe...
>Maybe you do.
“We shall see little one. Rest assured, together or alone, the beast shall be slain by my hoof.”
>The Shaman nodded, retreating ever so slightly.
>Once the crowd calmed down, you and Anonymous began to collect supplies. Two tents, two sleeping bags, a knife and short spear for Anon, some food rations. 
>Soon, the moon was rising high above the great grass sea. Luna staring at you from her prison. Judging you. As she had always done. As she was right to do so.
>The two of you, Anonymous and yourself, found yourselves alone at the edge of the village, staring into the Long Grass.
>”I'm somewhere out there.” 
“Not for long.” You say resolutely. He nods, tightening his eyepatch.
>”Not for long.”
>With nary a glance backwards, the two of you walk into the grass, only the moon to light your way.

~#~

>You look to Celestia, who was busy using her magic to set up her own tent. 
>Quietly, the image of prim, proper Goddess and royalty camping out in the wilderness was a funny one.
“Ever gone camping before?”
>Celestia turns to you, looking over the campfire, thinking on the question.
>”Once. About 700 years ago. I and Luna used to do it all the time, travelling across the country. Before we were... Goddesses.”
“You ever tell ghost stories?”
>”Luna was always much better at them than I.”
>You can see the smile on her lips, before it begins to break.
>Seeing her sad is a painful thing.
“You know, in five hundred years your plan works. Luna leaves the Moon, becomes a better person.”
>”Better pony. I know. I've always known it would work.”
>She looks towards the moon high above.
>”I just wish it would never had been necessary.”
“I don't.”
>Your blunt words immediately snap her attention away from the moon and her sister, and her expression changes to fury as she parses just exactly what you said.
“People... You and I, really start to get hung up on regrets. What could have been, what if? But there's no other way. Nothing can change. There's only ever the future. Only what you dare to be, dare to do with what you have been given. You spend your time looking back, sooner or later you're going to hit a tree.”
>”That doesn't mean one should shrug off guilt or responsibility.”
“Course not. But the past is done. When Luna comes back, she will have the opportunity to be a better Pony. If she had never fallen, she could never stand up tall. She'd still be second fiddle to you. Still pushing that resentment and envy deep down within herself. That's as much a part of who she is as the Moon.”
>”You know her?” Celestia challenges.
>The question makes you smile.
“She is my sister.”
>Celestia's eyebrows rise at that, and even the tent rod she had in her telekinetic grip drops.
>”What?” 
>You laugh.
“She and I got pretty close during our attempts to find my past. Bare in mind, last time I saw her and when we said this to one another I was bleeding to death.”
>Absent mindedly you scratch at your chest, where the wound would be if it happened to this body of yours.
“And when we did, we talked. She...”
>”I was worried you had married into our family.” Celestia says with a smile, wiping her head with her hoof.
>You smirk.
“Always an option.” You mumble beneath your breath.
>”So what am I like? In the future?” 
>Celestia finishes up the final parts of her tent, looking to you for an answer.
>You poke at the fire, considering the question.
“You are you.”
>”That's a singularly unhelpful answer.”
>You smile as you look into her violet eyes.
“I figure that telling you too much about your own future is hardly a smart idea. I shouldn't tell you of my deaths, who I shall be, nor of what exactly your plan to free your sister shall be.”
>You glance towards the moon, and two finger salute Luna. Well, Nightmare Moon. No doubt if she could see you she'd still dislike you for what you did in the Everfree.
>Time travel, not even once.
>”So, we are clearly friends in this future of yours.”
>You laugh
“I'd like to think so. I've died for you before.”
>”Is death so great a thing for you?”
>The question surprises you.
>You take a moment to answer.
“That Anon on the roof of the Everfree castle had no idea that he would have anything after his death. As far as I knew, that was the end. I would never get home, never grow old.”
>”Home... Labyrinthia?”
>You shake your head.
“Home is...”
>You look to the moon, and the mare within it.
“Home was somewhere distant. Somewhere far from here. Can I dwell? On what I can scarce remember?”
>”Scarce remember?”
>She leans closer towards you, slightly over the fire. A curious look in her violet eyes. Her alabaster fur alive with light, the rising embers framing her long yet beautiful face.
>You smile a sad smile
“I've been alive for a long time. Some of my lives lived long enough to begin to forget... For the fog to roll in.”
>You scratch at your missing eye.
“And part of what I've begun to forget is where I came from. I can remember a house, some snow... A quiet dinner? But I can't be sure.”
>You look up at her.
“And frankly... I think I'm...”
>The words get caught in your throat. There was always a chance. You couldn't throw aside that life you once lived, so so so many years ago. You weren't the same man that used to wake up every time you died. You had changed after the three hundred years you could remember.
>But he was you, and you were he. You weren't ready to throw him aside yet. Even with the reason why looking so curiously at you. But this Celestia was a near stranger. You had to get back and hold the one you knew and that knew you. But before that...
“I'll take first watch. We'll need to get some sleep, but this is a dangerous place.”
>”Are you sure you're... Able to see?”
>You grin
“Because of the eyepatch?”
>”Because of the eyepatch.”
>The two of you chuckle.
“I'll be fine. Had this sucker for a few months now. I should be used to it.”
>”How did you get it? If you don't mind me asking?”
>You smile a wry smile, running a hand through your hair.
“Well. It turns out that frostbite can be a bitch, and Windigos do not like trespassers. A thrown icicle embedding itself there can be a bitch to deal with.”
>>33916493 (You)
>You tap the cloth covered the void behind it, wincing slightly at your dumb decision.
>”Wait? You travelled to the old continent?”
>Her voice was full of both shock and curiosity.
“Yeah. Tracking down one of my past... You want the full story don't you?”
>For a moment, she tries to act the restrained monarch, the princess of the sun and regent of the moon. But she cannot help herself as she nods shyly. You chuckle beneath your breath.
“We're not getting any sleep then. I'll tell one story, you tell me one.”
>”I doubt that I have many interesting stories.” 
>She glances into the fire for a moment, a shadow passing across her face.
“We all have stories. Not all of mine are interesting either. But we ought to tell them the same.”
>Celestia tears her eyes from the embers and smoke, looks into your eye, and nods.
“Right. So, this was about four months ago. Our ship had wrecked in a shallow harbour on the old continent. A bitterly cold place frozen in time. Ghosts and shades and darker things stalking the frozen forests beyond the shoreline...”

~#~

>Despite the warmth of the spluttering fire and the alabaster fur you were sleeping atop, it was a chill that awoke you. A cold touch against your neck.
>”You sleep rather soundly for a killer.” 
>Your eyes wearily opened, then widened as you recognised that voice. It was hard not to, after all, you had been hearing it all of your life.
>”Perhaps you should have stayed on watch. These Grasslands are a dangerous place.”
>You look down, trying to look past your chin, but you needn't to in order to know what was there. 
>A iron knife held against your throat. The hand wielding it was calloused and scratched, bite marks from some flat teeth embedded within its pale flesh.
>”I would've killed the horse first, but I had not thought to find one of my own here. Did she bring you from home?”
>You swallow, your throat and Adam's apple scraping against the edge of the knife.
“Anon.”
>The figure, for a moment, weakens his hold of his knife, drawing it away from your throat for a second, before forcing it against it once more.
>”How do you know that name?” 
>His voice was torn with confusion and wrath both.
>You wince slightly as the knife draws blood, a scratch, a line, across your throat.
“I know that name because it is my own. You are me Anon.”
>The knife embeds itself even more in your throat as you are dragged up from your position sleeping atop Celestia's chest and dragged away from her.
>”What?”
“I am you.”
>You're not afraid. Not really. One that has experienced death as many times as you learns not to. Still, if he killed you he'd turn on the sleeping princess, and that was not an acceptable outcome.
>You try and kick out as you are dragged away, try and awaken the goddess that could surely kill him with but a thought.
>But this older you is faster, dragging you away before throwing you to the floor. 
>Prone on the ground, looking up, you get your first look at the Beast in the Long Grass.
>His eyes are your own. Green and piercing, shaking with both fury and fear as he looks into their identical match, ringed with red and black beneath. In his hands an iron knife with a twisted wooden handle. His clothes were furs, old tattered things of black and white. His face was a gaunt mask, more akin to a corpse than a living man.
>He loomed over you, this foul shell of a man, afraid.
>Afraid of you.
>”You are not me. There are no men like me. There is only me.”
“We both know that isn't true Anon. I remember them, you know of them.”
>The words are ignored as his free hand smacks against his temple.
>”No. What are you?”
>As he asks this he kneels down atop your knees, leaning over to once again hold the knife against your throat, seemingly not aware of how difficult this makes it to talk.
“I am you. The you who remembers.”
>”...who remembers?” He asks himself in a weak voice. You can see the wheels turning in his mind as he works out exactly what you meant by this.
>While he's distracted, you clutch a handful of dirt and throw it at Celestia behind his back, hoping to wake her. She barely stirs.
>She always was a heavy sleeper. God damn it.
>He shakes his head, dragging the knife up from your neck up the left side of your face, a faint red line forming up your chin and cheek.
>”Take off your mask.”
“I wear no mask.”
>His terrible familiar green eyes widen in horror.
>”No mask? No mask?”
>For half a heartbeat you're afraid he means to take that knife currently up to your left ear and slam it into the remaining eye.
>He steels his expression, cooling his fear into wrath and hate once more.
>”No. I know what you are. A thief. You stole...”
>You and he both hear Celestia stirs awake, and in a moment you are dragged to your feet with him, the knife around your throat once more, the blood from your cheek dripping onto your captor's hand.
>”Anon?” Celestia quietly asks, looking around tiredly.
>While his right-hand holds the knife against your throat, your captor's left arm is held against your head and mouth, stopping you from talking and also entrapping your left arm against your skull.
“Mmph!” You manage to cry out.
>Celestia turns, and her tired violet eyes immediately look into your own, then your captors, and they turn from sleep and weariness into anger and resolution.
>”Beast in the Long Grass.” She growls. It is the most hate and loathing you've ever heard in that velvety voice.
>”Celestia.” You doppelgänger replies.
>With your free right hand, you point right to the point Luna had shot you on your stomach five hundred years ago, hoping to get the point across.
>”You're going to leave this place and me alone, or I'll open his throat from ear to ear.” 
>Celestia growls as her horn comes alive with light.
“Mmph ht” you say, which was supposed to be “Do it” but you know, your mouth was covered.
>”You're going to release him, and then you're going to stand trial for what you have done.”
>You glare at Celestia. She returns the look. And you realise. Killing him now wouldn't change anything. It would have made all this pointless. And you know this is not how he dies anyway. The past is written, once the ink is dry nothing can change the words.
>”Hardly. At least you are here now. He told me you'd come. He told me you remember.”
>He?
>”Let him go.” 
>”Leave.”
>You know the only thing preventing your doppelgänger being a pile of ash on the floor is you.
>And you need him alive. For now at least.
>He begins to take a few steps back, out of the small clearing and back into the grass, dragging you with him.
>You share one last look with Celestia, and quietly and slightly shake your head. Hoping she gets the message.
>It seems she does, as the light on her horn begins to die.
>Silently, with only her eyes she seems to say “I hope you know what you are doing.”
>You nod to her, hoping to assuage her fears and doubts.
>Your doppelgänger is briefly confused by this, but doesn't want to lose the opportunity to get away with you in tow.
>”Don't follow me.” He warns. Uselessly perhaps. 
>You let yourself fade away into the long grass, losing sight of Celestia as you are consumed into the great grass sea.

<<June 14th Update>>

>The knife against the small of your back was constant. A literal knife, not some metaphorical rubbish.
>Your captor, yourself, was older than you. A little bit slower you realise, as he occasionally has to take two steps to match your own.
>Still, despite the numerous questions you had for him and the no doubt thousands he should have for you, the two of you spent most of the trip in near silence. Only the sound of the early morning wind rustling through the pale grass.
>The sun was a terrible blood red rising above the horizon. Anger and wrath in every sunbeam. Celestia's doing no doubt.
>It was your thoughts of her that made you speak.
“You know, you're facing off against a goddess. There's no way this ends well for you.”
>”All things have their time.” 
>Your doppelgänger continued pushing you onwards, towards the east and the rising sun, until at last a shape appeared on that endless flat horizon.
>There was a great and twisted tree atop a mound of dirt, its roots digging into the dirt beneath.
>The branches were barren and stripped clean, devoid of life, leaf or the song of birds. Its bark had been bleached white in the sun. Even from this great distance, you could make out blood red sap dripping from open scars upon its trunk.
>As if reaching out towards the sky, the branches twisted and stretched out upwards and out, spreading across the sky as if it were its own roots growing upwards.
>For a moment, the red sun was behind the branches. As if the tree had begun to devour the sun.
>It was a foul thing. And the two of you were heading straight towards it.
>Driven ever further by the knife against you.
>And for half a heartbeat, a dozen voices in your mind, all your own, are silent. Afraid. Though you could not say why, an indelible sense of dread had gripped your heart. The long shadows of that great and twisted tree reaching towards you.
>Your voice barely above a whisper, you ask
“What is that thing?”
>Your captor in a reverent voice replies:
>”Once it was known as “Mti wa kumbukumbu”. The tree of memories. When its leaves yet lived and its branches weren't so grasping. Now? Now it is known as “Mti wa huzuni”. The tree of sorrows.”
>You swore you could hear the sound of leaves rustling in the wind, separate from the swaying of the long grass. You could hear bird song coming from that distant tree devoid of life. You could hear the echo of laughter and song.
>”Can you hear it?”
>Your past self asks, the knife against your spine relaxing as he spoke. 
“I can.”
>”Long ago, their kind sat at the roots of the tree and spoke to it. Past on their collective knowledge into the bark and root, so that it might outlive them all. But...”
>You can hear your captor shake his head even as you can't see him.
>”Now none of them dare come near it. The memories and experiences given to it unreachable. Only the mad and ill walk into its roots, committing their sorrow and grief into eternity.”
>”And from its roots, I remember.”
>You think, for a moment, to run. You were likely more physically fit than this doppelgänger, being a few years younger. But he was armed. And death was no great terror to you.
>The two of you walk towards it in silence. The sun rises above its terrible branches, free of its grasp and the shadows retreat towards it. But so do you. Cast always in its shadow.
>You are close now. You can look up to see the eerie barren branches, can hear the echo of birdsong and joy rustling through non-existent leaves. Even particular voices now. In tones too low to hear, mumbling barely louder than the silence.
>”Come.”
>Your captor, no longer behind you with his knife against your spine, beckons you into a hole in the mound of dirt, between the bleached white roots of this ancient twisted tree.
“And if I don't want to go beneath the earth?”
>”You've come all this way for a reason haven't you? He told me so.”
>There it was again. 
>He.
>That unnerved you, but then again, little about this didn't unnerve you.
>And so you followed yourself into the dirt.
>The tunnel was unlit. With you standing in front of the entrance, you could make you little in the dark. The roof of the tunnel was low enough you nearly had to crouch to get through it.
>The route it took was twisted, with turns that seemed to loop back upon themselves, climbing up or down steep ramps. Roots sprung out of the ground, walls and roof of the tunnels, causing you to have to carefully hold your hands out to feel ahead in the dark, lest you trip over them or smack into them.
>You walked for what you swore was ten minutes in the dark. At a rough guess, you should have actually been back on the surface given how often you had climbed up. Heck, from the size of the mound outside you should have done that about a minute in. But here you were, still climbing or going deeper. Still crouch-walking through the dirt.
>But eventually you could see an amber light at the end of the tunnel. Could make out the silhouette of the roots and stone in the tunnel. The roof began to reach higher and higher, allowing you to slowly reach stand and walk normally towards that light.
>You could hear the sound of sobbing around you. Not in your voice, or in your voice from your captor. A woman's... A mare's voice?
>It was a quiet thing. Barely more than a whisper. Like you were just hearing the echo.
>Despite your misgivings, you walk towards the light.
>You find yourself in a well-lit cavern. It was about one and a half times taller than you, with the tree's roots dropping from the ceiling like stalactites. There were some oil lanterns hanging from some of them. 
>There was crude furniture. A tree stump as a chair. A stone disk as a table. A log split in half with black and white fur on it that you guessed was a bed.
>In one corner was a dying fire, its embers travelling upwards into a chimney-like hole above, but you had saw no such hole in the landscape nor smoke in the air above ground.
>Your doppelgänger was stretching, clicking his back.
>”That didn't use to be so painful.”
>He rubbed his knees and legs as well. Clearly the crouching hadn't done him any good.
“Nice place you've got here. Not as good a lair as Nightmare Moon's castle, but there's a certain rustic charm to it.”
>Your copy laughs.
>”Nightmare moon huh? Thanks for the spoilers.”
“You won't remember it.”
>He turns his gaze towards you, and his expression quickly darkens.
>”No. I shall not.”
“Why are you here?”
>”Cosmically?”
>You were really getting sick of that joke.
“Yes.”
>Your copy was surprised by the answer to his rhetorical question. He seemed to mull it over for a few seconds, his mouth moving to try and form some words, before he ceased attempting to.
>”I am here, beneath the Tree of Sorrow, because it is a place they shall never go.”
“They being the Zebras?”
>It hadn't escaped your notice that he didn't actually answer your question.
>”Yes. They are too afraid of the whispers and cries. Of the song that should not be heard. Superstitious idiots.”
“Looking at what has become of you, maybe they were right. Living like an animal beneath the earth, only coming to the surface to hunt.”
>Your past self growls beneath his breath.
>”I am here to remember. To be reminded.”
“And what is it that you have remembered?”
>”So many things. Tell me, how many times have you died?”
>The question surprises you for a moment, but you easily answer it.
“Of the deaths I personally remember, fifteen. At a rough guess of the total, somewhere between fifty and two hundred.”
>”Before now, this life of mine...”
>Your copy smacks his chest with his hand.
>”You have died fifty-six times. I could only guess how many lives lived, loved and died between you...”
>He slowly points towards you, then begins to pull his hand back to point at his chest.
>”And I.”
“Death is not the end.”
>”It is. It most certainly is usually.”
>Your copy lowers his hand and sits down in the sole chair in the chamber. You remain standing, glancing to a simple blunt knife on the stone table. 
>”Do you remember your first life Anon?”
>His eyes are almost pleading as they look into your own.
“I believe the first was Nergüi, King of the Minotaurs. I remember his life”
>Your copy laughs.
>”Wrong answer. That was the first life in this world, that is true. The first time you woke up in pain in a foreign land with foreign people. But it was hardly your first life.”
>He rolls his eyes.
>”Perhaps I should not be surprised you have forgotten where you have come from. Tell me. What do you remember of home?”
“Home?”
>Home was wherever you decided it was. To you, home was Manehatten. It was a tent in Labyrinthia. It was the Palace of waters in Saddle Arabia. It was the Captain's Cabin aboard the Farseer. It was the half a dozen saloons...
>More than anywhere else, it was a castle on the side of a mountain. A sunny smile. Alabaster fur and violet eyes.
“Home is where I choose it.”
>”No. Home is in England. In another world. Another life. Home is only two hours from our parents, one from one of our brothers.”
>You have a brother?
>”Home is where we belong. But despite everything we do, everything we could possibly become, all we are and all we try, we just keep waking up here.”
>Your copy punches the ground beneath his chair.
>”Here. Forgetting more and more of ourselves but the bare necessities.”
“I have a brother?”
>Your copy looks confused for a moment before a most terrible pity grips his features.
>”All you remember of your lives here, and you have forgotten yourself? Do you even remember the face of your father?”
>You try. Honestly, you do. To remember something more than snow and the dark house. But the more you reach for it, the further into the fog it goes. Beyond even you.
>”You don't do you?”
>Slowly, you shake your head.
>”Are you truly me?”
>The question confuses you, and you make that known.
“Huh?”
>”Are you me? We share not the same memories. We have done different things. We aren't alike in temperament or deed, in aspiration or love. In hate or sorrow? What you remember, believe and dream is different from me. Tell me Anon, would you do as I have done?”
“And what is it you have done?”
>”I have killed hundreds of innocents. Strong and weak, proud and humble. Young and old. All so sure of their realness. Of their purpose. All cut short.”
>”Would you honestly ever do these things?”
“Why? Why have you done them?”
>Your copy smiles. A foul red smile.
>”Why? To be remembered. Because you would never do it.”
>What?
>”All I did Anonymous, I did because of you.”
>What?
>”At first, it was simply to be remembered. When we die Anon, we are changed into a different form. Whatever makes the most sense for our actions in life. That form and name is how we are remembered.”
>”This is a kinder, softer world than home. If you don't remember, our home is one of murder and violence and war.”
“There is plenty of that there.”
>You know from experience.
>”But there was so much more. And in that darkness, it made the light shine so much greater. When there was love and peace, it was a great thing. Here it is expected.”
>Your copy shakes his head.
>”That's not relevant. The point is, this world may have monsters, but they are literal ones. It may have cruelty, but there is also justice. It has evil, but good always wins.”
“How edgy of you. Shall I break out the Enya?”
>”How could you dare remember some shitty band but not your own brother?”
>The question and the righteous fury behind it gives you pause.
>And you cannot answer.
>”Anyway. If I were to live my life simply, as Zaerara had wanted, I would perhaps live a long and... If not fulfilling, content life. Oh, I would father no children, I would never truly pass on my knowledge and experiences to a new generation. But I might be content.”
>”And when I die, I would be forgotten. Some Zebra would take my place. There would be nothing to remember me by. I wouldn't have been extraordinary. I'm sure you never would have tried to find me.”
>Wait...
>”But with all the wrong I have done, there is no way they might dare think one of their own did the things I have done. All the lives I have cut short cannot possibly be a mere animal. And even better.”
>He reaches for the knife on his lap as you dive for the other one on the table.
>He is quicker though, and as you slide across the table he slams the knife into your right shoulder.
>You let out a cry, but unable to move your right arm. You desperately reach out with your other towards the blunter knife on the table, but your copy simply stands up and casually sweeps it off the table, far out of your reach.
>He twists the knife.
>”I knew you would come. That show for Celestia to make sure she would send you later. I have been waiting for this moment for a long time.”
>You grit your teeth, silently screaming from the pain. 
>”If I had lived a normal life, you would have never found me. I would be forgotten. But now...”
>He smiles.
>”Now I shall live forever.”
>You grit your teeth and manage to spit out
“I am you, you idiot. You already do.”
>Your copy laughs bitterly.
>”Are you me? I don't see the similarity. We are not the same age, we do not look alike, we do not think the same. Act the same. Tell me, were all your lives the same? Did they all act the same, think the same, do the same?”
>Your grit your teeth in pain.
>”No. They were all different. And in the end, they all died, and another you took their place. We do not live forever. Not in the memory of others, not in yours. We leave no impact on the world. Our replacement does. We are nothing.”
“Fuck... Off.”
>You wince as you try to push yourself off the table, but your copy forces the knife in your shoulder deeper, pushing you back down.
“I am you. You are me.”
>”I know. I am counting on that Anonymous. I know you remember Nergüi, Emantle, Gaerian. Brightsmile, The Wanderer, Farseer and Cloudy eyes.”
>You wince again as your blood drips onto the stone.
“How do you know of them? Most of them come after you...”
>You can almost hear the foul smile, even as you simply look into the stone.
>”He has made me see.”
“Who the fuck is he?”
>”He is me.”
“That's a...”
>You cough.
“That's an unhelpful answer.”
>The Beast in the Long Grass, pulls out the knife in your shoulder, grabs your dead arm and flips you over onto your back, so that you are looking up at him and the ceiling. At the writhing roots of the ancient tree.
>Your copy walks away, laughing quietly to himself as you take deep breathes, trying to subside the pain.
>After about thirty seconds, he comes back, carrying a pot in his hands.
>”Drink. This is the last of the Dreamwine I have, let it enlighten you instead of me. Drink, and be made whole.”
>You try to struggle, to clench your mouth shut and writhe on the table. Lash out with your one working arm. But he holds down your left arm, punches you in the temple and forces the cup against your lips. The foul liquid passes your lips. Your body begins to weaken, and he lets go of your arm to stroke your neck, forcing you to swallow.
>It tastes of ash. Fire. Then Ice. A thousand tastes and textures run across your tongue. And the more you are forced to drink, the stranger they become. You taste your first kiss, and the time you broke your arm. You taste your fear of death and that song you can only half remember.
>”Prepare yourself Anonymous. And be made whole.”
>Your vision narrows, the shadows begin to lengthen. For half a second, before the dark takes you, the face of your copy sets alight, and his right eye begins to leak pus.
>One moment you are here.
>And the next, you are gone.

~#~

>In eternity, where there is no time. Nothing can grow. Nothing can become. So death created time, to grow the things that it will kill. And you are reborn. But into that same life that you have always been born into.
>You snap awake with those words running through your head.
>You find yourself in Canterlot. In your room in the castle. You blink your eyes, touch your body.
>It feels different, yet familiar.
>Old.
>You feel old.
>You hear a knock on your chamber door. A slow doom drum against the gold painted oak.
>With every terrible knock, the colour and warmth and light begins to drain out of your surroundings. The shadows lengthen.
>You look to that door, dread gripping your heart. 
“Come in!” You shout in anger, demanding that the presence beyond the threshold makes itself known. That it shows itself to you rather than hide away.
>But the knocking never ceases.
>Doom
>Doom
>Doom
>You refuse to cower before a simple noise. Gripping a support next to your bed, throwing aside the pills and water on the bedside table, you force yourself to get to your feet.
>To stand. 
>The colour has gone now, the room a cold grey.
>But you ignore it. Stepping slowly but surely towards the door. 
>Doom
>Doom
>Doom
>Your steps matching the terrible drum.
>Your withered and almost skeletal hand finds itself gripping the door handle. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, before opening the door.
>The knocking stops only as you open it.
>Open it, to find only darkness behind. Only the void. 
>You glance back, towards the fading light of your room. Slowly, it begins to match the void before you.
>You shake your head. And confidently step into the dark.

>You fall. For only a moment, but the sensation of your organs being pulled back hurts. There is no wind against your face. No sound of rushing air. Were it not for that foul feeling, you would not be certain you were falling.
>Eventually you fall into water. Cold and dark. You keep sinking, no matter how much you struggle to swim upwards.
>Some measure of strength and youth returns to you, but it is not enough against the force of gravity, and the pull of the depths. 
>In the dark water, you begin to make out shapes.
>Ponies and horses. Griffons and Minotaurs. Yaks and Dragons. All their faces and distinguishing features blank. Yet in your heart of hearts, you knew each one.
>Gaikhaltai and Khuchtei. Mirror Sheen and Zaerara. Longshore and hundreds of others. All drowned. All dead.
>You look down, further into the depths.
>And there in the dark, two familiar shapes begin to emerge. Large shapes, with horns and wings both. One a dark blue, the other a brilliant off white.
>Celestia and Luna. Both drowned. Both dead.
>You try to shout out to them uselessly, but water fills your lungs. You begin to struggle. You close your eyes.
>You throw up the saltwater in your lungs. You're on all fours, your hands digging into dirt.
>You wearily open your eyes.
>No. Only a single eye opens.
>Sure enough, you're on all fours in the dirt.
>After throwing up the last of the saltwater in your lungs, you push your arms up and kneel.
>As you look up, the smell of ash and fire smacks against your nose.
>Burning grass surrounds you. You look around, but that is all you can see around you.
>But it is not all that there is.
>Before you stands a twisted ancient and burning tree. Its branches black with soot and ash. You think for a moment it is a autumnal tree, but what you thought were amber leaves was actually fire, roaring in its branches. In its grasp.
>You look back down, and now all of a sudden there is a figure sat in the roots of this great tree.
>He looks like you. Older than you are now.
>Half of his face has melted away. His hair a blazing fire. He stares at you with his one good eye, and much to your expectation, speaks with your voice.
>”Here again are we?”
>You stand up, defiant.
“Here I am.”
>He moves to stand, ash dropping from his shoulders and clothes.
>Trailing behind him like a cloak as he moves towards you.
>”All paths lead here. Beneath a burning tree. But you have been here before.”
“This is how I die? The me currently watching me have a seizure on a stone table?”
>The figure nods.
>”At the root of the tree he lives beneath, burning. But he's always known that.”
”What is going on?”
>”Time is a flat circle. There is no beginning or end, and shall simply repeat itself. We know that better than anyone else. Our lives pointlessly repeating themselves only to be forgotten and restarted.”
“I remember. Celestia remembers. Luna remembers. Candance and Twilight remember.”
>”You still die. You are replaced by a copy.”
“Fuck off.”
>You stand up.
“I'm not afraid of being forgotten. I wouldn't be even if I forgot as well or even if I never awoke again.”
>”You're lying. I know you as I know myself. You were afraid on that roof of the castle, with a hole in your chest.”
“No, I'm not. No, you don't. I wasn't afraid on that balcony, with the rays of the sun of my face.”
>”You wouldn't be here if you weren't afraid. You want to remember. Afraid of letting go and forgetting yourself. So desperate to try and hold onto yourself. To fight against the dark.”
“Is that so?”
>”I knew you would come. I told myself about this conversation we are currently having. Long ago. I told him what I and you would both say. It is inevitable. As all things are.”
”So. Why? Why make yourself mad and do these terrible things? How many have you killed?”
>” Seventy-four.”
“And why?”
>”To bring you to me. To make you remember me.”
>Your eyes widen.
>”Like I told you. If I had just been a normal man, I would never have become infamous. I would be forgotten. And you would never have to here to try and remember.”
>You almost laugh in exasperation.
“All that death. All that cruelty, just so I would come here?”
>”Yes. We had to be sure.”
>You laugh out loud, the noise echoing over the burning grass. 
>You wipe a tear from your eye as your copy glares at you with the one eye not destroyed by fire.
“You dumb cunt.”
>”What?”
>You laugh again.
“Fuck me. If you knew about me eventually trying to discover my past lives, why didn't you just write a letter to Celestia or something? Heck, maybe you could've just tried to find them yourself.”
>”Because...”
>The burnt man pauses.
>”Because...”
“You drove yourself mad with all this talk of inevitability and the void, of being forgotten and the pointlessness of his life all for nothing.”
>You laugh, the only response you have.
“You fucking moron.”
>Your copy snarls.
>”Don't...”
>He calms himself.
>”It doesn't matter now. You are here. You shall watch my death and remember all my life. And I shall become a part of you. You will become me. I shall live forever and be remembered forever.”
>You shake your head.
“No.”
>Your copy growls again.
>”What?”
>You shake your head.
“No. I'm just going to wait to bleed out. Or I'm just going to let you die unforgotten. You're not winning this. I'll leave you to burn.”
>You smile to yourself, then smirk at him.
“You are not me.”
>For a moment, his eye glows with fire, before he smirks.
>”Then I shall have to play my trump card.”
>He clicks his finger.
>”Do you wish to remember home? Your life before you got here? Your family? Your friends? Your first and only true life?”
>You pause.
>”I had a feeling you may reject me. So I used this spirit world to entrap your memories of your past. It is not time or Alzheimer or the limits of your memories that made you forget. It was me.”
“What?”
>”Why do you think even when you remember Nergüi's life you still couldn't remember? He was the first of us after all.”
“You remember?”
>”I remember. And I am your only chance to remember home.”
>You look into his eye, where the fire had smothered the natural green. He looked back.
>Home.
>Home?
>Home was here.
“No. I've moved on.”
>”You can't!” 
>”You're leaving them to die forgotten! You're damning them to the void!”
>You glance down a the floor, then back to him.
“No. You are. They've been gone for a long time. I shall never get them back. And I'm fine with that. I have to move on. No point dwelling on the past forever.”
>You look to the burning tree, to his scarred and melted face. To the anger and fury and bitterness.
“Unlike you, I have a future.”
>”No! No no no no...”
>You turn away from the barely living corpse of a man. Walking into the burning grass. 
>It feels warm. Like the rays of a sunrise. Like her.
~#~

>You awaken on the table.
>”Now you know.”
>Now you know.
>”Will you remember?”
>You start to move off the table. 
>If that was his future self in that hallucination, he can't be allowed to know you have no intention of remembering him as you had the others.
“I will remember this moment. Let me go, and I'll talk Celestia into letting you live.”
>Your copy is confused for a moment.
>”Really?”
“I know I shall remember you, but do you really want to die burning as he did?”
>The mention of him convinces your copy.
>”Right. No, I don't. Of course, I shall just have to look like him when I appear for me later.”
>What a fucking confusing sentence.
“Sure.”
>You clutch your dead arm in your free hand. Maybe you can get it healed.
>”You think you'll be able to convince her to spare me? After all... After all I've done?”
>You can hear the regret and sorrow in his voice, and again as it echoes through the roots.
“I do.” You lie. “But I have to go alone.”
>He nods his head.
>”I'm glad. I was so afraid.”
>He says that almost as a whimper.
“Don't be. You are me.”
>But you are not him. And never shall be.
>He smiles. You want to plunge a knife into him yourself, but that is not how this ends. The past is already written, and nothing can change it. There is only the future.
>”I'll just bandage you up and lead you out of here. She should find you easily enough once you get away from the tree's reach.”

~#~

>You look back at him as he waves to you. So sure he shall get away with everything he did.
>Fuck him.
>You walk into the long grass, your right arm throbbing in dull pain.
>It may be you might never be able to use that arm again until you die. And you are reborn.
>The sun is beginning to set ahead of you. The sky turning a brilliant scarlet. 
>Taking in the majesty of the sky, you whisper and admit something to yourself.
“I love it.”
>You smile as you walk and close your eyes as the last rays of the sun warm your face again.
>”This is good.”
>When you open your eyes again, you have travelled far. The sky is dark, the moon and the mare within it hanging in the sky. The stars spread out in a grand display of light and dark.
>The same Stars that were there five hundred years ago. And that shall be there in five hundred years time. Back home.
>You can hear the sound of wings. You come to a stop and wait. Looking up, you see Celestia, her wings wide, lit by the moon behind her. She looks beautiful.
>She lands in front of you, a suspicious look in her eye.
>”Are you...” She asks.
>You remove your eyepatch, to show the void beneath.
“I am Anon. Not the beast.”
>She sighs with relief.
>”I was worried. You were gone a while.”
“Thanks.”
>”So... Why aren't you dead? How are you here before me?”
>You smile at the question.
“He thinks that I want to remember who he was. He thinks I am going to convince you to let him go.”
>Celestia's expression darkens.
>”If you think...”
>You shake your head. Your objective clear. The real reason Celestia had sent you back.
“No. I don't. You and I are going to kill that son of a bitch.”

~#~
Updated 3/7/19

>The great and twisted tree held the Red morning sun in its grip. The roots spreading across the surface, swaying softly in a barely present wind, as if the tree itself was breathing.
>In
>And out
>The wind picked up for a moment. As it did so, the torch in your hand flickered, roared and threatened to go out entirely.
>You held it just that little bit closer, feeling its warmth, aware that your face and sole eye were lit by its amber glow.
>This should be your last day here. In the past.
>All you had to was to kill yourself.
>Kill your past self.
>Honestly, that's not much better.
>Anyway, all you had to do was see this through. To live, and to go back.
>What you would do when you went back was a question...
>It was a question you hadn't quite answered.
>If you were leaving the past behind, leaving all of this behind, the future was not as obvious as it had been for the past few years.
>Ever since that night in the Castle of the Two Sisters, you're path had been clear. But that objective, to literally and find yourself, was almost done.
>You didn't care to find out all of your lives. To spend decades chasing the past. You were you. No matter the life. At this point, you knew who you were.
>But with that confirmation can a new question. If you knew who you were, what did you want?
>Once, what seemed like a lifetime ago, you had asked Luna that question. Pierced past her self made delusions and definitions and sought only the truth.
>But when you had been asked that same question, you had given a different answer than you would now.
“I'm just a dude. I want to go home.”
>You glance to Celestia, stretching in the morning light, aiding subtly its path.
>You weren't just a dude. Like or not. At least 300 years of life had long ago stripped that from you.
>And home? 
>You smile as she shivers slightly.
>Home was here, wherever you were.
>So who were you? What did you want?
>”Are you ready?” Celestia asks as she does the last of her stretches
>You shake your head clear, pushing aside questions and perhaps non-existent answers to them.
“As I'll ever be.”
>About as honest an answer as you've ever given.
>You hold the burning torch, or what is really a stick with lots of dried grass compressed atop of it, out. Clenching your free hand, you and Celestia walk towards that tree on the horizon. Towards the Beast in the Long Grass.

~#~

>When you get there, to your surprise he is waiting for you, sitting in the roots of this great tree.
>He turns to you and Celestia, spotting the torch in your hand, and the murderous flare in her eyes.
>”I knew it was too good to be true.”
>He looks up to the sky, the sunset behind him.
“Did you really think either I or Celestia would forgive you for the things you've done? For the people you've killed?”
>”She forgave you didn't she? I am you. And you are me.”
“No. Not anymore.”
>”We can't just abandon parts of ourselves whenever it is convenient. You were never tested as I had been. Burdened by what I learnt. That you are going to be forgotten, little more than ash on the wind.”
“Yes I did. Do you think I just woke up one morning remember my past lives? I decided to move on from it and try and discover why. It's why I am here.”
>”Okay us. Then why are we here? Cosmically?”
“It doesn't matter.”
>”What!”
>He gets to his feet, cold fury in his eyes.
“It doesn't matter. Why, how. Knowing these things won't change anything. I wouldn't choose to be anywhere else even if I somehow knew a way back. Perhaps I was born here, and that past was a lie, a faint memory. Perhaps none of it happened.”
>”Bold words from a man who literally went back in time to find out about the past. About himself. How selfish of you.”
“Selfish?”
>”When you forget about your past life, about your brother, one day no doubt even mum and dad, it will be as if they had died. There will be nothing left of them. Oh, you'll be free to wander and have a life, no doubt banging her.”
>He nods towards Celestia.
>”But there will be no record of their existence. No proof of their past, present or future. You'll abandon them because it is inconvenient for you to remember them. As it is to remember me.”
“Fine. All thing fade. Father Time has his way with us all eventually, even our legacies and definitions. I doubt even I shall live forever. Sometime it must come to an end.”
>”And you're okay with that? To be nothing. To one day know you'll cease to be, that no one will remember you? One day even she'll die, and when she does there will be nothing of you left.”
>You shrug.
“Fine. Let it be so. You create the world you deserve. If I deserve to be remembered once I'm gone, then it shall be so.”
>Your copy seethes, shaking with anger.
>”I shall be remembered. I shall live forever!”
>He reached down and picked up a spear, holding the weapon with both hands.
>”If you are to do this, let it be you. Leave the Goddess out of our battle.”
>You look to Celestia and she looks at you. Seeing him die directly would give him what he wants. To be remembered, to be a part of your psyche like Brightsmile, Nergüi, the Wanderer and countless others were now.
>But this was your fight. Your demon. Your past. To be let go of yourself.
“No.”
>Turns out, giving in to a mad man's request is a dumb idea.
“One last chance. Come with us for trial, to face justice.”
>You uselessly hold out your hand in a pointless but honest gesture.
>You already knew that was not how this was going to turn out. When the ink dries, nothing can change what has been written.
>He screams at the top of his lungs as he charges towards the two of you, spear in hand. You can almost remember it yourself. The pointless anger. Killing Celestia was no doubt impossible, killing you was pointless. But still this past you charged, hoping to do something.
>You hold out your hand, to stop Celestia instantly incinerating him. You step forth and watch in his eyes as he settles on trying to at least hurt you, the fairly normal human as opposed to the literal goddess.
>As he reaches you he jabs with the spear. In an instance, you drop the burning torch and dodge the point of the spear by leaning slightly to your right. It sails past your head. Your copy tries to simply slam the wood into your skull, maybe cracking it before going for another round of trying to stab you, but you're quicker. With your one good arm, you grab the shaft of the spear.
>He looks at you in alarm as you fight against his attempts to smack it into you, holding off the attacks with a single hand. Beneath his breath, his whispers something to himself.
>”No. No no no.”
>Over and over again he repeats this quiet mantra. Some part of him already aware that this battle was already over. Even should he manage to kill you, Celestia was right there, watching as the flames around your feet grow, the grass beneath you set alight by the torch.
>You hop back to get out of the flames, now creating a natural barrier of fire. Him on one side, you on the other.
>For a moment he seems to pause, seems to catch his breath, taking small steps back as the flames grow and spread. 
“Come on. There's a chance yet.”
>He shakes his head.
>”I've always known what is coming Anonymous. Ever since I first opened my eyes. I...”
>A haunting sorrow grips his features. A recognition of something deeply unsettling to him.
>”I'm sorry.”
>The flames grow higher and higher, further and further. Celestia taking her own steps back from them. You stay as close as you can, to try and see your copy through them, even as he keeps taking steps back as the fire spreads.
>He's almost now forced back to the root of the great tree.
>”I..” He shouts, before pausing, trying to find the words. Barely audible above the roar of flame. Perhaps there were no grand words. Nothing he could say to justify, or to impart. Nothing worth remembering.
>Stepping back towards the tree had been the wrong move for him. The grass was like a match. It was all Celestia could do with her magic and forcefields to hold it back from spreading outwards and setting the whole grasslands ablaze.
>He was surrounded on all sides by rapidly spreading fire, that was moving ever closer towards him.
>”Help me!” He screams in your voice.
>You almost try to. Almost risk throwing yourself into the inferno to save him and drag him away from what you know is going to happen.
>But half a hundred corpses lay at his feet. A legacy of blood he tried to carve out for himself out of fear. Of the void. Of time. Of death.
>And so, despite his screams in a voice hauntingly like your own, you step back.
>And turn away. Not wanting to watch as he is set alight, as his hair burns and his flesh melts. Hoping not to give him the satisfaction of remembering him.
>But your vision narrows. The last thing you see is a worried Celestia rushing towards you, hoping to catch you and drag you away from the fire as you fall backwards. Her magic grabs you, pulling you away from the flames, but your body begins to weaken. The darkness begins to cover your vision, a cold spreads across you. One moment, you are here. And the next
>And you are gone.

~#~

>You were almost certain of where you would awaken.
>It would be in a dark void, similar to where you just were. You'd have a 1-1 conversation with yourself. And despite everything, despite the fact you don't want to or need to any more, you'd remember.
>You'd swear.
>But the odd thing is, beneath you isn't ash or grass. You don't feel as if you are in a cold void. Far from it. Your eyes are still closed, but you can almost tell where you are all ready.
>Not a void, not a dream. At least, not quite.
>Beneath you is clearly a bed. A duvet above you, a pillow beneath your head.
>You open your eyes.
>It isn't your room in Canterlot. Gone is the marble and gold, the grand wardrobe and the balcony doors.
>It isn't some room aboard a ship, in an inn, Ponyville or perhaps anywhere in Equestria.
>There are a few ways you can tell, but the most obvious is the fact that as you open your eyes you spot a flatscreen TV hanging from a wall.
>The one in your parent's spare room.
>You are awake in a well-lit room, a light bulb still on, despite the fact you were just asleep.
“What the hell?”
>You sit up out of bed, glancing towards a window.
>Outside, snow is falling. Softly, calmly.
>Cautiously you make your way to the window and look outside.
>Streetlights make the snow glow with a warm light. Children are outside, throwing snowballs and building snowmen. Even at this early hour, with the sun barely cresting a distant hill and the city in front of it, they excitedly played.
>Outside the building itself sat a great many cars. Two for your parents. One you could barely just recognise as your own. The rest were strangers. Though there were roughly seven in total there.
>Slowly, names you barely recognise echo quietly through your mind.
>Throwing on a dressing gown, you make your way out of the room and carefully down the stairs.
>You step through hallways, towards the only other lit room in the house.
>You can hear laughter and talking through the walls as you make your way towards the dining room.
>A great congregation of people were there, maybe twenty or so. 
>Each sat at someplace on a table, or maybe two large tables held together.
>Some were as young as maybe five or six, the oldest in their eighties. All animatedly talking in voices you couldn't quite make out from this distance.
>You nearly step back into the darkness, away from the table and the dining room. It's all together unfamiliar to you. Strange.
>No. That's not right. You do recognise it. Home. This was your family. Mother and Father. Your brother, some cousins, your grandparents. A great gathering to celebrate... something.
>Christmas. To celebrate Christmas. 
>A single empty seat remained. Unclaimed, untouched.
>You watch the scene with a sad smile. You don't remember this. Perhaps it had yet to happen. Perhaps the fog of time had stolen it from you.
>For almost an entire minute you just watch them eat, talk and laugh between themselves. Until at long last your mother looks up from some joke she was whispering to your father.
>”Anon! You're finally up! Would you join us?”
>She points to the empty seat.
>For a heartbeat, you consider the offer, and what it likely truly meant. But you shake your head.
“Sorry mum. I'm not staying. I've somewhere to be.”
>”Come on Anon. The food's good. Company isn't bad.”
>You smile at your brother, a ghost you can't quite recognise.
“I'll miss you all. Deeply. But this...”
>You look around the room. Around the house. Around the world.
“This isn't home anymore.”
>”You sure?”
>You smile at your dad. A sad but honest thing. Not of regret, but an apology.
“I'm sure.”
>He nods.
>One by one, your family gets up to leave. Some give you simple pats on the shoulder, and as each does so you can feel their flesh turn to ash. One moment a word, each of their names, passes through your mind, but it leaves as soon as it arrives, never to be remembered again.
>Your Grandfather shakingly hugs you, and as you return the hug he falls into you, resting on your body as you hold him up. But before long, you are holding nought but grains of ash and dust.
>Your cousin shakes your hand, the warmth leaving him as he did so. Bone, then cinders, then ash replacing her. You smile, and let each of them say their goodbyes.
>Though you had long forgotten each of them, their faces, names, loves and losses, drives and reasons. Definitions, you still smiled. For that brief moment they each touched you before they decayed, you remembered.
>But Father Time soon took them away. And the memory of each of them faded into the fog as soon as it arrived.
>But regardless of what it stole from you, for that brief moment it was as if they were alive again. And even if the memory of them long faded, you would keep a tight grip of the memory of that memory.
>Long after their faces and names had gone from human memory, you would still be a record. Some kind of proof that they once existed. That they had lived, loved and lost. As you had, as everything had.
>Each one left some kind of ashen handprint upon you. From ancient grandparents and great uncles and aunts, to nieces, nephews and cousins barely up to your waist.
>Entrusting you to be their epitaph. You to be their memory. You, to be their legacy.
>Your brother moves up beside you, and places a single arm on your shoulder. He'd be fine without you. You knew that. You hoped, if there was some other place he was, he remembered you. But you had been in Equestria for a thousand years. Perhaps he and everyone else around this table were long dead.
>”Goodbye Anon.”
“Goodbye...”
>The word, the name, dies on your tongue. He smiles.
>”Remember my shadow at least.”
>I held him close. He, unlike grandpa and all the others, hadn't yet turned to ash. Instead, after about twenty seconds, he broke off the hug, smiled a sad smile and move around behind you. You followed him with your eye as he walked down the hallway, and out of the door into the snow. The light from outside, from the streetlights and the rising sun were gone now. As soon as he left the house, the world behind you was plunged into darkness. As if it were never there.
>You turn back to the last two people at the table. The food and light were gone, only a dark room remained, and them.
>Mother and Father.
“Do you know? Why I am here?”
>They shook their heads, as you knew they would.
>Perhaps there was no answer. None but what you decided upon.
>”We'll miss you Anon.”
“I'll miss you two too.”
>It was strange. By all accounts, you were far, far older than them now. 400 years of life running through your veins and mind. But that wasn't true here, in this dark empty house.
>You move instead, to hug them both.
“I've got to wake up. I want to go back.”
>That was your only explanation to them, but you knew why you were choosing to.
>You say one last quiet thing to them, to abate their fears.
>To let them know you are alright. That you shall always be alright.
>And then.
>You are gone.

~#~

>When you awaken, it is not in ash and burnt grass as you feared it would be. 
>You're against a log, or something hard. There's no great heat to suggest the fire is near you. You can't feel any great pain. All your sense except your still closed sight suggests you are gone from the fire, or the fire itself is gone.
>You open your eye.
“Are you alright?”
>Not to that copy of you, who is no doubt long dead now. But to the first thing that came into view.
>A panicked, worried, beautiful horse.
>”Am I all right? You just fell unconscious!”
“That happens from time to time. Are you okay?”
>She seems to want to continue to argue. To prod and check you some more. To ask that same question of you.
>But something she sees on your face calms her down. Relaxes her.
>”I'm fine. The beast is dead.”
>You nod softly, before placing a hand into the dirt and pushing yourself up slightly, almost touching Celestia. She trots back slightly.
“I should see it for myself. Confirm it.”
>She nods, and places her head under your armpit to help you to your feet.
>You don't necessarily need it, but you aren't going to refuse her help. You place a hand against her back, rubbing the fur absent-mindedly as you get to your feet.
>Taking in the view behind her, you can see the charred and blackened tree. The enormous circle of burnt grass around it.
>The sun was high above you, long free of the grip of the tree.
>But from here you cannot yet make out your copy's body.
>Celestia nuzzles you, leading you towards the tree.
>You carefully walk, your legs still a little weak. Relying on her for support.
>Eventually you are brought before the cinders of the roots of that great and twisted tree.
>To the corpse resting in its grip.
>A foul monstrosity sat there.
>Not human, nor any creature you knew or understood.
>It had six gangly, twisted limbs. Two in place of bipedal legs, though you would hardly call the multiple jointed things hanging there legs.
>Four in place of its arms. Two twisted appendages more akin to the branches of a tree gripping a spear still resting against its barrel chest. Two clutching at its face, digging into its cheeks.
>Its face...
>Two eyes on the left side of its face had been burnt away entirely, leaving only empty sockets, with embers and cinders glowing within. On the right, a single white eye sat glaring, its eyelids burnt away. Staring, drying up in the heat.
>Its mouth was twisted, almost too large for its already massive face. Opened on its right side in a silent scream, the other side melted shut.
>Nothing about its foul visage suggested an ounce of humanity. Of any sort of love or benevolence. 
>No. This was a thing of fear. Causing and inflicted upon itself.
>Screaming and afraid even in its last moments.
>You yourself understood that very primal fear of a man's last moments, but this wasn't the quiet desperation of dying atop an ancient castle. This was pathetic, begging, pleading for a reprieve.
>Not a man. A monster. Perhaps once it had worn the skin of man, but that had been burnt away.
“We ought destroy it.”
>”Agreed.”
>Celestia's horn glowed, and slowly whatever force kept the ash and flesh together began to break down. Scattering on the winds, floating on the air until nothing remained of the Beast in the Long Grass.
>And so he passed into memory. A lie to be told down the years, of a foul abomination that stalked the grasslands of Zeborica without pity, mercy or reason. A Ghoul.
>And the truth...
>You and Celestia alone carried it.
>And neither of you would pass it on.

>After some time catching your breath and stretching your muscles, you began to follow Celestia back into the Long Grass.
>For a few minutes, the two of you simply walked in silence, heading back to the village. Now safe in the knowledge that no one there would mistake you for the Beast. If you bother to go that far. The thing about silences however...
>Is that all silences end.
>”What will you do now?”
>You look at Celestia. Into her brilliant Violet eyes, so very curious. And something else within them. Wanting perhaps.
“I have to go back soon enough. I want to see you again. The You of my time.”
>”And... We shan't meet again till then?”
“We... I shall see you a few more times. Though each time I shall have no idea who you are to me. And, I think, you shall not know who I am to you.”
>”I know who you are.”
“What am I to you, Celestia?”
>”You're Anonymous. You've always been Anonymous.”
“Yes. But what does that mean?”
>”It means you... I...”
>You smile.
>You place a hand against her back, causing her and you to come to a stop. Moving in front of her, you stare right into her eyes.
“I can't tell you your future. I shan't force you into a certain path by the burden of knowledge. But there will come a time when you know what I am to you, even if you cannot admit it. When I come back, I shall tell you its okay to admit it. To yourself. To me. It's okay, because I do feel the same way.”
>You kiss her forehead, careful to miss the sharp horn.
“We'll meet again. I do know where. I don't know when. And I won't remember it, or you. But we'll see each other again.”
>For a few minutes, she stays there, in shocked silence. Something breaks in her, and tears form at the edges of her eyes.
>”I'm scared.”
“So am I.”
>The admission confuses her briefly, before she smiles a weary but honest smile, sniffling in a vain attempt to hold back the tears already falling down her alabaster cheeks.
>She nods, and hugs you. Taking you into her hooves, forcing herself and her fur against you. You hug back, holding onto her for dear life, planting kisses on her neck.
>But each is lighter than the last, and slowly, as the spell that kept you here finally began to break...
>You let go.

Final update: 09/07/19

>For a thousand years you have lived and died. Over and over again. Once, you had forgotten each one. Each version of You so sure of their realness. As their identity as the sole version of you.
>Each time you died, your corpse changed. The memory of those around you changed. Your actions, your deeds, your loves and loses given to another, a different being that never truly existed except in the minds of all those that ever knew you.
>Once... Once you had not known this. 
>And each death, each life, felt final. Felt definite. 
>And each was different.
>You have been afraid of it. You have been accepting of it. Sometimes you cried and snarled and shivered desperately trying to hold on as your life slipped through your fingers.
>Other times, you closed your eyes, welcomed the cold. Even if you weren't sure what was to come after, you had learnt that your time was up.
>But it was not only the end that was different each time.
>Some of you had been great men. Carving out their life from history, inflicting your will upon and changing the world. Every step like an earthquake. Making and getting the world they deserved.
>Some had been nobodies. Lost to history.
>Some had been good men. Some had been bad. 
>All had been you.
>You could not remember them all. But you didn't need to.
>Because you knew who you were. What you were. What you wanted to be.
>Whys and hows did not matter. 
>Because the answer was, and always would be, because you were you.
>The past was behind you. A thing to draw upon, a thing to learn from, but not a place to constantly face. To wonder what could have been, or to try and live in better days.
>The past was done. Once the ink had dried, nothing could change what had been written.
>But the future was yours to do with as you pleased.
>Sure, some part of you wanted to give in to fear. This was a time of ending. Without a chance to look back, what would you do with yourself?
>Could you truly live without that constant, gnawing fear of death? Could you bear to outlive the things you loved?
>But then, even if there were some things that would fade. Even if you outlived hundreds of Ponies, you would remember them. Hold onto what was good and discard the rest.
>And you knew that nothing ever truly ends. Only when you gave up on something, only when you turned your back on it and refused to remember would it truly die.
>And there was so much you wanted to remember. 
>And even better, there was someone you would never lose to come back to. To keep living for. To keep remembering. And who would remember you.
>You create the world you deserve.
>You had told yourself and others that for years. That you got out of life whatever you put in, for good or ill.
>And you put in love.
>And you knew, with absolute certainty...
>And perhaps you had always known...
>That you would get that back.
>But before that, you have to come back.

>You watch as time folds and twists, unravel and reform as you are slowly pulled back to the present. A brief chance to watch your lives since the Beast in the Long Grass.
>Farseer standing at the prow of a ship, glaring with wrath and joy at that unconquered horizon. 
>Brightsmile, smiling upon a balcony, feeling the warmth of his last sunset upon his face.
>Cloudy Eyes, bleeding out in his own tomb. Saying goodbye to his sister.
>And dozens more. Great or small.
>Ahead of you, in this void of time lay a great light.
>A sunrise.
>Hers.
>And you hold onto it. Allow it to pull you back. To wake you up.

~#~

>You awaken.
>And everything... Is fine.
>Sure, your right arm is probably permanently crippled from the knife that had been lodged in it, but that was only for this life.
>You awaken in a small house in the Grasslands, slowly sitting up still with your eyes closed inside the thaumaturgical circle that had aided and lengthened your trip to the past. 
>The first thing you see when you open your eyes is golden sunlight streaming in from a window. 
>And you see her, Celestia, framed by that same golden light behind her.
>Five hundred years barely shows upon her face. The main difference is in her violet eyes. The Celestia you had just spent the last few days with was suspicious. Proud. Lonely.
>Hers was joyous. Fulfilled. Happy.
>Happy. 
>As you begin to return to reality, tense and relax your right arm, hoping to get some feeling back into it, you smile at her. 
>For once, for perhaps the first time in years, it isn't a sad smile. It isn't a false one either.
>You rush forwards as soon as you are free from the residual magic swirling around you and held her tight.
>Hugging her neck. Without hesitation she returns it.
“Do you remember it?”
>”Five hundred years is a long time...”
>It was indeed.
>”But I remember. Anonymous... I...”
>You step back ever so slightly, watching her.
>You can see the words dying in her throat. Once again, she's getting in her own way. Afraid to hold on to something. Afraid. 
>Not again.
“I love you.”
>She stares into your eye, and resolutely replies
>”I love you.”
>And nothing can stop the torrent.
>”I've loved you for a thousand years. As Nergüi, as Brightsmile, as Galerian, as Emantle, as Farseer, as the wanderer, as Cloudy Eyes, as Cao M?t, as...”
>She lingers upon something. Rolling her tongue in her mouth.
>”As You. You have... You were always Anonymous.”
>You begin to lean in, but she beats you to it, planting her mouth against yours.
>You remember kissing ponies before. You had been alive for four hundred years after all. You were used to their long tongues, their flat teeth, their pliant lips and the fur around them. The way they lingered a little longer than you expected.
>She...
>She was unlike any of them.
>It almost feels profane in a sense. Debasing a Goddess.
>Well, technically she wasn't your God. 
>Maybe she'd change that.
> You're pushed to the floor by her weight, beneath her.
>Yeah, callbacks huh?
>With your one good hand you slap her ass, smacking right against the cutie mark, your hand singeing slightly from the sun upon on.
>And with your right, it shakingly reaches up to the back of her head, running through her mane of dancing lights.
>You cannot feel anything with that hand, a damn shame. Still, you've touched that hair many times, it's a first for you to grab her ass.
>With a flex of your fingers, you clench it. Digging into the soft malleable fur and fat beneath.
>The two of you finally break off the kiss.
>She begins to pant, her face flush red. Her eyelids lower, the slightest open mouth smile on her face.
>In the reflection of her violet eyes you can see yourself.
>One sole brilliant Green eye, wide open. Your mouth in a wry grin.
“Y'know, some random house in the middle of Zeborica probably isn't the place for this.”
>Her lustful grin grows as her horn glows.

>For a moment, you're blinded by a great white light.

>Unlike other times you've teleported, where it felt like your body was being stretched and torn apart or that you were falling into a terrible void, the warmth of Celestia atop you seems to abate this.
>And unlike before, the sensation is over much quicker, as you feel yourself somewhere a lot softer than the hard wooden floor.
>Taking your good hand away from her hind, you take the covers you're atop of into your hand, feeling them for a second.
>”Private enough?” She asks, panting ever so slightly.
>You smile. You've been in this room before. It isn't hers, much to your own surprise. Perhaps she was worried about the Household coming in to clean it, or to greet her.
>Instead, its a smaller room to the side of the castle. You know it intimately, from the bathroom, to the wardrobe, to the balcony.
>You can remember waking up in this room years ago. Being both young and old in it.
>But perhaps not the best place for this.
“I had somewhere else in mind.”
>She looks quizzical, but none the less her horn begins to glow once more.
>Acting quickly, you take your good hand and touch her horn. She shivers from the touch, a full body thing that shakes her motherly full hips and causes her to push forwards, pushing her chest fluff into your face almost involuntarily. 
>Almost.
>You can feel some warm and wet against your still annoying clothed hip and cock.
“I've got to get undressed...”
>You spot a large tapestry and smile. Good enough.
“You're fine being naked, so I'll meet you there in a second.”
>”Where?”
>You look out the doors to the balcony. Here the sun was beginning to set, slowly turning from brilliant gold to a crimson. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful sunset.
“My favourite place in the whole castle.”
>She thinks on it, but not for long. She knew you well enough to know exactly where that was.
>She pushes back slightly, brushing against your dick again, soaking the trousers as she does so.
>”I'm not so sure that I should be naked in public either.”
>She steps off the bed and trots around, revealing her dripping vagina. It almost seems to be winking at you.
>Nevermind, it definitely is.
>Strangely, or perhaps not strangely at all, you can smell lavender.
“Well, you can teleport there. I've got to freshen up and get undressed.”
>”Won't ponies see you?”
“They won't even remember who I am... And I'll wear that.”
>You point to the tapestry, the one showing what you think is the story of the creation of Labyrinthia. Celestia did always have a sense of humour.
>She laughs at her and your own private joke. Not one anyone but you two and maybe Luna would get.
>”All right. I'll see you in a bit. Don't keep a mare waiting.”
>She says that with a wink, turning around to wink again as well. And then, with her hind to you, she teleports.
>With her off you and out of the room you jump out of the bed, never feeling more energised and ready to go.
>Glancing downwards, you can certainly confirm some part of you is definitely ready.
>You tear off your trousers, throwing your shirt off haphazardly across the room.
>Your drop your pants as well, stepping out of them into the en-suite.
>Placing your hands upon the basin, you look in the mirror.
>One brilliant smiling green eye, a happy grin. Your cheeks were flushed with blood, and your long hair swept back.
>You debate taking off or keeping on the eyepatch. For Celestia's sake, you keep it on.
>And looking into the mirror, you shoot an award-winning smile.
“Am I looking acceptable today?”
>For half a heartbeat, you see Starfall there, nodding shyly in agreement.
“Acceptable huh? We shall have to try better than that.”
>You quickly wash the worst of the ash, grime and dried blood off, wincing as you touch your wound in your shoulder. You doubt that shall leave you this life, but there was always next time. And besides...
>As you throw on some of your cologne that clearly someone had left in here for the last three years, you smile to your reflection.
>It was going to be a good day.

>You walk out of the bathroom, full of swagger.
>Not towards the wardrobe, but towards that great hanging tapestry.
>Felt almost a shame to ruin it, but fuck it, it was pretty inaccurate anyway. I mean, it had you as a Minotaur upon it.
>You tear it down, ripping it slightly at the top. As it drops to the floor you grip it tightly with your one good arm, throwing it over you like a toga. Using your left arm to hold it.
>It might almost look dignified, were you not both obviously wearing a work of art and also had a raging stiffy clearly visible.
“No time like the present.”
>You spare one glance into a window to make sure you were at least decent, then with a smile you walk out of the room.
>It almost crosses your mind that Guards might wonder who or what you were, but as you walk through the familiar white marble corridors of Canterlot and pass them they don't seem to react. At least, more than sparing a glance at you.
>Shoddy security frankly.
>”That would be my doing Anon.”
>A familiar voice says further down the hallway.
>You laugh as you spot Luna, full and radiant, looking as tall and as regal as her sister. Though obviously, not as fucking hot.
>You march forwards, arms raised.
“Sister! It's been so long!”
>You reach her and hug her, wrapping your arms around her neck and placing a chaste kiss against her cheek.
>You can feel her heat up, and notice that your impromptu toga/work of art had just dropped and that you were almost touching her with your...
>None the less, sheepishly but earnestly she returns the hug.
>”Brother... Why aren't you wearing clothes.”
“I've got a meeting with your sister.”
>Even with your face away from her you can hear her smile.
>”Took you long enough. What was that, 1000 years?”
“Not there yet. Besides, you're one to talk.”
>She chuckles, but you can hear the embarrassment in that. Not sure if that's because of the taunt or if because she had just accidentally touched...
>”Perhaps it would be best if we caught up... After.”
“Perhaps you're right.”
>You pat her firmly on the back as you break off the hug and take her long face into both of your hands.
“Tomorrow Luna. We'll grab break... Maybe Lunch.”
>”You think this shall take that long?”
“You clearly don't know what I'm capable of.”
>”I shall leave that discovery to my sister. Just... In five minutes I'm dropping the invisibility and muting spell. You better be with her by then, or you'll have some questions to answer with the Guards.”
>You chuckle again, and Luna cautiously joins in, before you reach down and reapply your impromptu Toga. Once you're back to holding it over you, you look into Luna's eyes and honestly say
“Hey, Luna. Thank you. For everything. Without you, I might never have remembered all of this.”
>”Anon... You'll be a great brother.”
>The words echo in your mind, her soft smile and teal eyes full of joy almost dominating your thoughts more than the image of Celestia's fat ass and long tongue.
>With one last lingering look and smile, the two of you go your separate ways. Luna to presumably go to court and rule, you to bang her sister.
>Hey, both important jobs.
>You carry on down the hallway unseen, only looking away from your goal to glance at ancient portraits.
>Old Ponies that worked for Celestia or great Equestrian heroes.
>Some of whom you knew. Some of whom, you were.
>You take a brief moment to stand before an ancient painting.
>It's a grand thing, twice as tall as you are, of Farseer. Of you. You remember you used to take a moment out of your day every day to look at it. You remember it being once one of the last things you had ever looked at.
>It was striking. A male unicorn wearing a truly outstanding amount of clothes for a pony.
>But it was its eyes. Deep green and piercing, the same as yours, that made you look upon it back then. That almost made you wonder.
>And just like you, he was never truly alone. He spent his last making sure that his lover lived. Survived. 
>Glancing down, you spot a slight discolouring in the marble beneath your feet. The slightest hint of red against the white.
>You smile. No one else was as good at getting stains out of marble as you had been it seemed.
>For a brief moment, you close your eye. And lean back into the dark.

~#~

>You were not alone. All around you in a shapeless void were hundreds of versions of you. Young and Old. Weak and Strong. Some looked cautious. Worried. Afraid.
>Others were proud. Content.
>Many you recognised.
>Many you didn't.
>One, the old man you recognised and remembered as yourself, but also as Brightsmile, stepped forwards and spoke first.
>”Well. Here we are.”
“Here I am.”
>”Is this it, Anonymous? Is it over?”
“Am I going to keep desperately looking back for some kind of meaning, purpose and fulfilment? No. The past is over. I enjoyed it. Loved it. Sometimes I hated it. But whatever it was to me, it is only a memory now.”
>”And us?”
>A young man steps forward. He looked exactly like the day you first arrived in this world. The same clothes, the same hair, the same look. Maybe he had somehow been killed instantly upon reincarnating.
“You are still me. Even if I don't remember the specifics, you are as much a part of me as the rest of you are. Even if I didn't trace down your lives, you are still me.”
>”All of us?”
>The burnt body of a man wearing your skin stepped out of the dark.
“Perhaps. But it doesn't matter. Hold onto what is important, and let the rest go. If I keep looking back, to better days and times, then the way ahead shall always seem dark. But if I look forwards, keeping the memory alive but hoping to make new ones... Then the future, and life, is whatever I make it out to be.”
>All of them, the hundreds of you that had lived, loved, lost and died, nodded. And in one voice, they speak.
>”You are our monument. You are us, and we are you. Go forth Anonymous. Live, love, and remember.”
>You smile, a quiet, sad smile as one by one the copies fade into dust.
>Strangely, the last to go is not your three most recent lives, Cloudy eyes and whomever those other two ended up being called. Instead, it is the old and ancient Brightsmile. The oldest of them. The oldest of you.
>The one that, in his own way, had started you down this path. That had allowed you to remember who you were. To break free from the endless cycle of life and death.
>”You told her?”
>You nod your head.
“I did.”
>”And did she tell you?”
“She did.”
>He smiles, as he slowly starts to fade away into the dark.
>”You hold onto her. Celestia is a special woman. You won't ever meet another like her in your life. No matter how long you live.”
“How long might that be?”
>He shrugs.
>”Another thousand years? A million? Eternity? Who could say. You might be gone tomorrow for all I know. Best not worry about what you cannot change. All you have to do is hold onto what matters for as long as you can.”
“I won't ever let go.”
>”Good... Let's make this a night to never forget.”
>He smiles, a strained but honest smile, even as he fades away entirely.
>For a moment, you're alone in the void.
>For the briefest of moments, you're unsure of what exactly to do. 
>But then you remember. You know.
>You just have to wake up. And remember.
>And you are gone.

~#~

>Eventually, you stride onto your favourite balcony. It wasn't the one attached to your room, nor the grand one beside the court.
>No, this was a small one at the edges of the castle.
>Starring west, towards the setting sun. From here you swore you could almost see all of Equestria. But that was not why you were here.
>Sat on a small bench, though thankfully larger than it had been, was her. Celestia. Her mane messy, but a quiet contentment on her face.
>She was on all fours, with her legs and butt towards the end of the bench with her head and graceful swanlike neck towards the middle.
>You sit down beside her, just staring at the setting sun before you for a few moments. 
>She places her head on your shoulder.
>The two of you turn to each other. Taking in the majesty of her flowing ethereal mane, her glowing violet eyes, her brilliant alabaster fur and her honest yet wanting smile, you whisper and admit something to her.
“I love you.”
>”I love you.”
>Your breath slows, your throat constricting a bit.
>You lean towards her as she does towards you, your lips slightly pursed as you close your eyes as the last rays of the sun warm your face once again, and not for the last time.
>And the two of you kiss.
>At first, it's a chaste thing, a brush of lips against lips. And yet it holds. And the longer it holds, the more you and she put into it. Your mouths open. The two of you begin to explore. You place your left hand behind her head, in her mane, as she places her forehooves on both of your shoulders.
>The more the two of you get into it, the more you're pushed back.
>Eventually, you're lying down on the bench. You open your eyes to the twilight sky, and a hot and bothered Celestia looking down at you. Her ethereal tail stroking up and down your leg with a mind of its own, almost feeling like thousands of delicate fingers.
>You can feel her winking pussy rubbing against your dick, almost imperceptibly stroking it. Celestia seems to have notice as well. 
>She looks right into your eye, and with a commanding smug grin begins to raise and lower her hips, taunting you by stroking but never quite taking you.
“C'mon now. A thousands years isn't long enough?”
>”I don't know Anon. Why are you here?”
“Cosmically?” You ask with a wry grin as you begin to move your free right arm.
>”Ye...”
>She pauses as you manage to reach under her with your right arm and pinch her engorged teat. She moans audibly, drooling slightly, but somehow manages to continue.
>”YeS!” She cries out.
“For whatever reason I fucking want. Right now... And for as long as I can remember, and as long as I live, that will be you.”
>You continue to rub and pinch her teats, and she groans in approval, before quite suddenly reaching down and sealing your mouth with her own again.
>You and she both moan into each other's mouths, and her long tongue battles against yours for control.
>And at long last, she slowly pushed her hips down.
>Perhaps it had been a mercy that she had been essentially humping you. Her natural lubrication allowing some give.
>Still, the Sun Goddess, ruler of the most powerful nation on the planet and the very being that brought day and light, was...
>Well, to be crude, she was tight. It was your turn to quietly moan as she took your length. Still, she was hardly silent herself.
>Once your two hips touched, and you were firmly hilted, she shouts and cries in exhilaration.
>”Yes! Ah!”
>She flips her head back, her mane thrown back with it and unfurls her wings to their fullest extent. As she leans back forwards and places a gentle kiss against your nose she lifts her hip up slowly again. Almost dragging herself up your length.
>As amazing as it felt, there was no way you were going to make her do all the work.
>Just as it feels as if she's about to push back down for some of the most gentle yet passionate sex of your incredibly long life you extract your hand from playing with her crotch-tits and place both your right and left hands on her withers.
>And all of a sudden, you push with your left arm and roll the two of you over. She rolls with you, clearly hoping you might take the lead on this one. Meaning neither of you rolls off the bench onto the hard marble.
>Now, it's your turn to look down at her. Hot, bothered, her eyes half-lidded eyes staring into your own smirking almost as much as you were.
>You can feel her pussy wink faster and faster against you. She can still feel your length and warmth and girth still inside her.
>”Come on now Anonymous. You're not stopping there are you?”
>You smile, placing a gentle hand against her face. She leans ever so slightly into it, closing her right eye as she does so. She sticks her tongue out ever so slightly.
“Not on you're goddess damned life.”
>And you thrust with almost your entire body, gently but firmly into her.
>She shivers as your dick thrusts inside of you, moaning as she squeezes her eyes closed in pleasure. The shakes and vibrations threaten to undo you to, but you're made of stronger stuff than that. And this was not your first rodeo.
>”A...A... Anon!”
>She stretches out her right hoof, holding it above her head. You take your left hand away from her face and take her hoof into your hand, gently rubbing the frogs of it.
“It's okay... Nice and slow.”
>You slowly pull out of her, only to thrust right back in, gritting your teeth and desperately holding onto your definitions as her fiery hot depths. It feels like fucking an angel.
>As her ears and mind work out what you had just said, her eyes shoot open and those violet orbs stare into your own with a fierce intensity, only held back by the way they were shaking ever so slightly.
>”Slow? Not on your God damn life.”
>And to your surprise, she pushes up with her hips. She almost neighs as you hilt inside her. To be fair, you almost do too.
>Even beneath you, she almost seems to take control. As she fiercely wraps her hind legs around you, preventing you from pulling out any further than she might allow, she sets the pace. And what more can you do but follow? Thrusting in and out with slow yet delicate strokes or fierce lunges that takes her breath away.
>Occasionally she tries to talk, say something. Anything. And every time it fades into incoherently mumbling, groaning and rapid exciting breathing as you take her there, beneath the moon and stars.
>Still, no matter how many times she clenches against you, another shaking orgasm coursing through her and threatening to bring you over the edge yourself, she never lets up from the lock her legs are keeping you in. Her front legs may be uselessly held over her head, you might be gripping her forehoof, but her thighs are tight against your own. They will not let up. Her intention is clear.
>After her fourth, you can feel your first coming at long last. Her prehensile tail hairs playing with your balls. Her hair may be a mess hanging over her face, a few strands over her eyes, but her exhausted and flushed face smiles and coos quietly to you as you try so hard to hold off what you both know is coming.
>”Inside Anon. No other way.”
>And like that, you let go.
>It feels unlike anything you've ever experienced. In a thousand years, nothing you've done could compare to busting a nut inside the Princess of the Sun. She shakes again, a simultaneous orgasm brought on by your own, and by instinct, the two of you launch yourselves into another deep kiss as you cum inside.

>For hours the two of you rutted on that balcony. She screamed and moaned as she orgasmed countless numbers of times. You came inside once or twice...
>Maybe three...
>All right, a whole bunch of times.
>Sweat, cum and Marejuice staining that bench beneath the two of you something fierce. Soaking into her fur and your chest hair. At some point, your eyepatch fell away, and your and her hair hung loose. Sometimes, you were on top, gently thrusting inside her, holding her hoof as you and she came. Sometimes she'd ride atop of you, forcing you to grip the bottom of the bench for dear fucking life.
>A thousand-year dry streak ending in one night. And what a fucking night.
>And as the two of you held each other in your arms and forelegs, spooning and watching the sunrise from the balcony on the other side of the castle that you had teleported to, you know that this will happen again. And again.
>Time is a flat circle. 
>Father Time might have his way.
>And you know what?
>Lying here beside the mare of your dreams, a literal Goddess and Princess
>With your whole life ahead of you
>With all of eternity ahead of you
>Maybe that isn't such a bad fucking thing.
>And slowly, you close your eyes as the first rays of the sun warm yours and her face, you whisper to yourself just before you sleep.
“This is good. Isn't it?”

~#~

>30 years later

>There you were, minding your business.
>One moment, you were just bucking the last apples of the season free from their tree. Your mother would help, but Applejack was playing up how much her hip hurt when really she just wanted to sit there sipping the last of the ice tea that was supposed to be for you!
>It wasn't fair sometimes.
>Still, that wasn't the weird thing. You almost expected your mother to take a break at this point. No, the unexpected part came when you bucked the tree hard enough to free the last of the apples, except it wasn't just apples that fell from the tree.
>Hearing an ungodessly shout followed by a pretty solid thud, you turned around.
>Lying and moaning atop your now crushed apple basket lay some...
>Some strange creature. 
>Brown fur on the top of its head, a long body. It was moaning and groaning deeply. Clearly a male of whatever the fuck it was.
>Too afraid to move or do anything, you trotted back slightly.
>”Fuck. Everything hurts! Last time I go fucking skydiving. Fucking Wonderbolts not pulling my para...”
>The creature has its eyes clenched shut, but when it opens them it almost seems surprised.
>It looks itself up and down, blinking and winking its right eye with surprise, then those brilliant green pools look into yours.
>”Ah shit. I must've died.”
>That... Wasn't what you were expecting it to say.
>He stands to his full height, towering over you.
>Despite that, he seems to be the awkward one, running his hand through his hair and coughing slightly out of embarrassment.
>”Hey. Um... I'm not going to hurt you, but I need to get back to my wife in Canterlot. Could I trouble you for some directions?”
>What else could you say but
“Holy shit! A talking Ape?”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4QDnAjHjn8 [Embed]