>Thump… Thump… Thump… Three knocks sound out from behind you as you work, quiet and without malice, one you might expect from a child… or filly in her case.
“Come in,” you call out as you tighten the belt around your waist before giving it a firm tug to ensure a snug fit.
>You pay no mind to the door as it creaks open and closed behind you, the filly’s shallow breathing almost deaf upon your ears.
“This is a most inappropriate visit, little one,” you scold her though your voice remains cheerful in tone. “Nova would not permit you to abandon your lessons… yes?”
>“It’s only a small break, promise!”
“Luna, Luna, Luna, whatever shall we do with you?” Grabbing your flintlock from the table you secure it to your belt, still aware of the filly who has yet to scurry back to her teacher. “What trouble brings you to my chambers?”
>“No trouble. I just- Well I wanted… I got something for you…”
>Spending the Canterlot coffers once again? You can’t help but sigh, shaking your head as you do so.
“Little one, how often must we speak of this? The royal treasury is not for a princess’s personal use. Please, return it…”
>“I didn’t, I swear! I- I saved up my bits, like you told me.” Truly now? Well, that changes the matter entirely.
>Turning about you look down upon the little princess and the box she carries upon her back. “I got it just for you.”
“Luna,” you shake your head once more but this time with a smile, “One saves their bits so that they might purchase an item of their desire.”
>“But… The spiderlady said it would keep you safe…” With your interest piqued you grab hold of the box, carefully unraveling the bow that binds it together. “She told me that as long as you wore, none of the monsters can hurt you.”
>You can’t help but smirk once you see the contents of this ‘gift.’ A shirt, simple in all its forms as to hide its origin. Spider silk, a material desired even by the Saddle Arabian Princes. “Do- do you like it?”
>The filly kneads the floor with her hoof, eyes downcast as if fearful of your displeasure.
“Aye… It makes a fine gift.”
>Her eyes light up like the night’s sky, even going so far as to hop in an act of utter bliss as you unclasp your leather armor, slipping the shirt on in its stead. “No big meanie is going to hurt you now.”
>You take a knee, the little princess leaping into your arms and wrapping her hooves around your neck. “Anon?”
“Yes, little one?”
>”Do you really have to go? I asked Uncle but...” In his old age, his mind is- not what it used to be. A year, he has, maybe two.
“My duty is my charge, little one. Always remember that…”
>She grips you tighter, rubbing her wetted cheek against your neck. “Promise you’ll come back.”
>You swallow hard, petting her mane in sooth strokes while you deepen the embrace.
“I always will, little one.”
 
~~~
 
>Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Each beat sounds in unison, the contortions of your heart lining in a rhythmic choir.
>The hiss of your lungs breaks the deafening silence upon your ears with each breath, every inhalation a mighty roar in this void you occupy.
>Unlike the world from which you have come to know, this silence proves itself true. There is no world beyond these tempered walls, only you.
>You hear the crackling of skin as your fist clenches, the aired swish of blood as it shoots through your veins, even the hum that pulses within your skull, every thought or sensation a separate tune in its choir.
>Pushing off your sword once more you move to stand, straining against your weakened muscles, even after such time.
>Perhaps it is the memory you chose on this occasion, so ingrained it is that your body simply allowed itself to linger… Only here, is such a feat possible.
>Only when all other senses are removed, only when a man can truly be alone in this world, can he achieve the impossible. Only-
>A creak robs you of thought, a piercing light penetrating the void in which you allowed yourself to dissolve, “Anonymous?”
>You shield your eyes from this intruder, moving to the eastern wall and unveiling the window that held back the sun’s glory.
>As if you were born again, the light washes over you in a wave of passion, the first strands of heat reaching your skin.
>Fluttershy waits in the doorway, having already broken the chamber’s magical hold over you. She waits and she listens.
“What need do you have of me?” you finally speak, questioning her presence. Not necessarily unwanted you’ll note, though you had wished yourself a moment longer.
>“Andrew wanted to see…” Your head cocks at her lack of words before turning back to her, “Are- are you alright?”
>She is of a caring sort, yes, but this question seems needless to you. Perhaps it is your wounds, you think before looking to the bandages upon your wrists only to find them without fault.
“My state is of no concern. Why do you think the question necessary?”
>”It’s just- well…” she begins to trail off but not before rubbing her hoof on her cheek.
>You perform this act as well, fingers wiping away at a moisture that has mysteriously sprung upon your skin.
“Ahh,” you smile, wiping your eyes innocently, “The sun afflicts many with its harsh glare. Pronounced, it is, when its victim has masked themselves in the shadow.”
>”Oh, for a minute I thought…” She stops again only to shake her head, “Andrew wanted to know if you were ready.”
“Of course, lead the way, Fluttershy.”
>You follow suit, leaving the magical chamber behind you, thankful, that Fluttershy’s trust eases your own deception.
>The sun…  It is not of your own code to speak false, but the truth behind your moistened cheeks is the concern of no one, save yourself.
 
>Moving to the cupboard you slip back into your shirt, briefly squeezing your bandages to test their strength as Fluttershy maintains herself by the door.
>Her attention moves to the table and the bits of metal and wood that sit atop it. “How’s the umm, work coming?”
“Slow, it pains me to say. I know much of war and the weapons one might use to wage it. I know of this weapon’s creator and the demise that befell him. I know that I maintained this device for years beyond counting… and yet I fail to master its secrets.”
>Perhaps if you had been there- If you had, well, he would be more than happy to repay your ‘kindness.’
>”Don’t give up, Anonymous. I- I believe in you and-” Your gaze steals the air from her lungs, as both of you know full well what it is she attempts to gain from this ‘motivational’ endeavor.
“Speak for yourself, not for the captive. Am I understood?”
>She puffs her lip and steps forward with pleading eyes, “But Anony-“
“Am I understood?” You raise your voice, the sheer volume forcing her an uneasy retreat.
>”Yes… Anonymous.”
>Cracking your neck you approach the mare with a smile, hand outstretched as you raise her quivering jaw to meet you.
“Later, we may speak of the Zebra. Currently, my mind is occupied with the manners of our own security.”
>”It’s been a week. Could I at least…” Her words fail as your lips depart from its joyful state. “Later. I understand.”
>Good mare. Reassuringly patting her on the neck you exit your chambers and move back through the dimly lit corridor.
>The faint glow of the torches light your way, the little they do, their previous flame dwindled to the weakened ember you now follow.
>You need more men, this you know without question or doubt. The only question remains is when. When will the amulet’s location be revealed to you? Soon, it must be.
>If not then…
 
>You return once more to the entrance hall, your brothers lowering in volume once they notice your arrival. With a slight nod they return to themselves and their meal, their chatter echoing off the walls once more.
>This castle was once a symbol against the griffon hordes that sought to occupy these lands at one time for even they strayed from the forest’s depths.
>When the towers first breached the canopy above, it gave them another reason to tremble.
>Celestia was convinced the construction would be a waste of resources… and it seems she was determined to prove that it would be.
>Placing a palm upon one of the walls you can almost envision the foundation as it once was, a slab of broken earth and hope long broken.
“To see one’s work in such a state, after everything my men have been through…” Your palm folds inwards into the clenched form of a fist. “I held no claim here, desired no stronghold or wealth in exchange.”
>You look back to Fluttershy to ensure her attention has not yet been swayed and are not disappointed at her attentive gaze.
“When you are given a gift, sister,” Fluttershy swallows hard at the word giving you pause, her heart not wholly placed alongside her duty. “The name troubles you now?”
>Guarding herself with a worn smile she fails to hide her true feelings, “N-no. It’s a- It’s an honor to…”
>Her voice peters away as she looks back in your unconvinced eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. I just-” You can see the tears begin to form; the sight proving most dangerous should your men bear witness.
“Brennan,” you call while motioning Fluttershy back towards the forward gates and out of sight.
>The soldier quickly removes himself from the group, his motions sloppy, almost drunken before he reaches you with a salute, “Yes, my lord.”
“The repairs are coming along well, are they not?”
>His eyes waver from yours as both of you know the correct answer to the question, and he is just wise enough to know the truth is not one that will serve your mood well. “They are not, my lord.”
“I see.” You chance a peek back to the gate, Fluttershy covering her mouth for but a second before galloping out of sight and into the nearby brush. Still not ready… “Why is it that the progress I sought has been so thoroughly neglected?”
>”We have worked day and night, I assure you, sir. It’s just- My lord, may I speak the truth?”
“Do you wish to speak the truth or do you wish to speak freely?” You question him before gripping the back of his neck, your thumb placing slight pressure on his cheek. Brennan does his best to suppress a grimace as the pressure opens up the gash you had left upon him a week before, still not fully healed. “Correct me, brother, if I am incorrect, but I recall your last attempt of speaking what you deemed to be the truth a most foolish endeavor.”
>”I-” Another ounce of pressure at his pause and he quickly learns not to do so again. “Only the truth, my lord. We haven’t the tools nor trade, my lord.”
>Good, at last he states simple fact and not preconceived notions of how a leader must act. “We were trained to fight, our tools are used in the execution of our enemy not to piece together stone and wood… Sir.”
“The truth agrees with you,” you sigh, releasing him and looking to the others. “You are soldiers, true, trained in one art, one trade. If you cannot mend stone you will haul that which remains. If you cannot find that which to haul, then you shall maintain, clean. These are but simple tasks fit for even the most feeble of creatures. In addition, I hear too much laughing, see too much lounging. If at any moment I cannot hear the clashing of steel you will join the changeling at the gates. Am I understood?”
>All that had not risen do so, fists clenched over their hearts, “Yes, sir!”
>Brennan does not meet your gaze, his face that of steel while a streak of blood escapes his re-opened wound, “Yes, my lord.”
>Placing a hand upon his shoulder finally lifts his eyes to yours.
“You are my brother, Brennan. Remember the oath and remember your blood.”
>“I won’t fail you again, sir.” Only time will tell.
>With a salute he escapes back into the group, pulling aside another soldier around his height and draws his sword.
>When their swords finally meet, you allow yourself a smile before heading back to the gate.
 
>You squint through the sun’s rays, methodically scanning the entrance to your new home.
>The bridge, once ragged and rotten has seen new life it appears, the diseased planks renewed with those of Fluttershy’s previous dwelling.
>Walking over you place a testing foot upon one such renovation, quite pleased with the outcome when you do not immediately hurtle down the cliff and to your death. It is a simple fix, yes, but every inch counts on the battlefield.
>“My lord,” you hear Andrew call echo from afar, your ears and eyes honing in to find him at the bottom of the cliff near the sewer pipe, a poor stream flowing cleanly from its depths. “Day has broken.”
“Of this I am sure,” you shout back down to him as he gathers his effects, mainly parcels and scrolls, and slings them across his back. “Yet I do not find you ready before me.”
>“To which I will immediately amend.” With that, the elderly man begins his arduous jog back up the pass. You follow his journey for but a second before looking back to the sky, your skin slowly wakening to the morning’s light.
“This sun…” you whisper to yourself and extend your forearms outwards as to soak in the delicious warming rays.
>Looking back to the gate you find yourself having forgotten your newest visitor.
“The sun’s fervor is without question, is it not?” You ask your silent yet vigilant guest who stands guard at the gate, eager to welcome any that approach. “Many of your kind still dwell in the shadows. If they are wise they will stay there until my deed is done.”
>Reaching up you reorient the skull’s head to face you, his beady blue eyes expertly pulled from their sockets without a blemish to the bone.
“Be sure to send that message. Now, where did the Pegasus go?” Closing your eyes you hone in on the soft whimpering that trails on the wind.
>Loathe is not a sufficient term to describe your feelings towards such a sound, hate- no. Detest. Yes, that is adequate.
 
>In war there will always be times for grief, it is as avoidable as the rise of the moon and sun. This you are forced to accept.
>With a man, a stallion, a soldier, when one sobs it is a sign of vulnerability, when a tear has been shed it is proof of weakness. This is why you hide it so…
>Yet, you continue thinking as you push yourself through the neighboring brush and to the Pegasus Fluttershy, when it is a woman whose tears are shown. You cannot help but feel… empathy.
>She sits shaking in the corner with her head to the wall, mane wholly disguising her image in that cloak of milky pink.
>Her sobs only worsen after hearing your arrival, the crackling of leaves giving you away followed by your lack of action. In her mind, a thousand spiders must weave a tale of what you might do, what you might say, and you see why.
>You had ignored the putrid stench of raisin hay stew, the broth consisting of stomach acid. From salad to stew, her morning meal ruined with a single lengthened purge.
>You open your mouth to speak only to shut it shortly before your voice leaves you. This never was a strong suit of yours.
>Nothing prepared you for counseling others. In war, you spoke to inspire, not soothe. If a soldier needed a voice to guide them they would look to their father, and they their father before them, always familial ties.
>The closest you came to such…
>”I can’t-” She pauses, speaking first to your surprise. “I never thought- I’m sorry, Anonymous.”
>You take a knee beside her but remain silent, tempted to reach out but not yet sure of the results. They… vary, from mare to mare.
>She half-turns to face you with reddened eyes. “Strong of mind,” she pauses with a sniff, “and strong of heart. You made it sound so easy and I thought- Maybe this was all just a dream and that any moment I could just…”
>You bow your head as she flies into another fit of tears, your teeth clenched. Every inch of you wants to grab her by the torso and shake her, screaming at her to cease her fruitless groveling. This would only serve to make the situation worse.
>Speaking truth, you know how it is she feels. This isn’t the life she chose, she was forced into it. For you, it was Tartarus. For her… It’s your fault.
>“Nothing makes sense to me anymore. My home… Angel, Mr. B, my friends. They’re all gone.”
>Old lives swept aside in a single motion, whether it be from monstrous hordes or the risen few.
>“And now,” she sniffles once more, “Zecora’s locked away. I- I can’t even think what you’ll do to her, like what you did to that poor changeling… And it’s all because of me.”
>She buries her head in the wall, hooves failing to keep her tears hidden… and it is now that you cannot take anymore.
“Please, stop.” You barely manage to whisper in a voice so foreign and low you may doubt yourself having said it at all.
>At this she stops and turns to you wiping away a stray bead from her cheek, one might have assumed it was merely an act if they knew not of the host. “W-what?”
 
>Did she hear you correctly? The first time you showed such reliance you were close to death’s door, but this is not the same.
>When she heard you speak, it was not for your own sake. To her, it might be safe to assume that, for a moment, you might care for how she feels. No parlor tricks, no deception.
>You raise your head and face her, pausing your arm that instinctively reaches out to her, the appendage returning limp to your side.
“Fluttershy, I am going to do something and I do not wish for you to feel alarm at the action. If at any point you wish for me to cease, do not hesitate to tell me, however I do wish for your voice to act first. Do you understand?”
>Her eyes show conflict and uncertainty. Why would you be speaking in such a calm tone? Was this a test? Legitimate queries, both. “Ye… Yes.”
>You nod and raise your arms out wide before pausing one final time.
“I will also note, this will be merely a onetime occurrence to ease your heart. I shall continue.”
>Widening them once more you begin leaning forward, at the same time carefully observing Fluttershy for any signs of rejection.
>Her eyes widen the closer you get, her legs and torso quivering as your arms envelope her, her heart pounding hard against you as you fully lean into her.
>”W-what are you-” She begins and you immediately loosen yourself.
“Do you wish me to stop?”
>She stays quiet for a minute before finally answering, “Maybe…”
“I see,” you shoot back a small grin that swiftly fades away as you release her, hand idly rubbing your leather greaves before a light chuckle escapes you. “I am but a novice in this field.”
>Fluttershy does not join the laugh and this only serves to emphasize the clumsiness of your actions. What a foolish mistake.
>You are a soldier not a- not a mother of kind word and heart. You care about the effectiveness of your troop, not the state of emotion in which they operate. She is but a servant. You must convince yourself of this.
“I would find it best if we could forget about this moment,” you turn away from her.
>”Anon?” her voice calls you back and the moment you turn her hooves are locked around you. “I want to try again.”
>Your smile hides in the strands of her mane as your hands softly squeeze into her back and focus on your breathing and the rhythm of your hearts.
"Empty your mind, remove yourself from the present, find release from your binding thoughts," you whisper. "Feel your lungs swell as you listen to my voice, allow yourself to rest with each pulse of your heart."
>Two pendulums swing parallel to the other, one swift in its  short arcs while its opposite keeps a slow rhythm as it drags calmly through its cycle. The contrast is obvious.
"Feel my heart, not through my chest but your own. Each pulsation is tempered and constant... Match my breathing now. Inhale through the nose," you emphasize, soaking in the smooth velvety aroma of her mane. "Hold that feeling for no more than a moment... before releasing it back to the world. Try."
>You keep your hold on her firm as she takes in that first breathe, following your instructions to the best of her ability. You can sense her trepidation as she fails to fully match you, her pace skipping with each twitch of your arms or chest.
 
"Hear my words now but keep your mind clear and heart calm. Breathe in... All that has come to pass is not your doing."
>"But-" she begins only to return to rhythm as you take a pronounced lungful of air.
"Breathe out. You are a very brave mare, despite the appearance and tendencies that seek to disprove me of this notion." You stay silent a moment, her chest rising with your own only to fall in the same sync. "Keeping my company is not a simple task as you know. Do you remember the vow you swore?"
>She nods and you respond with running your hand down the length of her neck, soothingly stroking her coat.
"They are but words, but in them you find a simple verse. 'My oath is sworn but my actions bring it truth.' In my culture, our culture," you correct yourself, "we make a pact. A bond sworn in blood."
>She remember you saying something like this before in Canterlot. You too remember, and the memory of the fourth alicorn is enough to break your smooth rhythm for a moment. Here, Anonymous, remember where you are.
"When a man comes of a certain age they recite the oath before his superior, his father in most cases. Together," you continue to explain to her, "they make a small incision upon their palm and lock hands with the other, allowing a single drop of their blood to fall to the earth, now as one... On the night you spoke those words it was out of desperation, an act of fear for the life of your friend. Your life hung not in the balance that night, yet you would throw yourself wholly into my grasp for your- your friend. You thought not of the consequences, not of the days ahead. You thought it a temporary ordeal... a dream and yet as the days passed you never awoke."
>Her head nestles into your neck as her tears once again rise to the surface and run down upon your shoulders.
"You weren't truly ready for the oath, not until you had been shown what this new life would entail. Now I see that you are, you would not shed these tears if you weren't. It is your decision, your life. I may pick and pry and tear, but the choice is always yours. You will always be in control of your own actions, of your own life."
>This does not ail her whimpering heart, of this you are quite aware. It is the guilt of her actions that truly weigh down upon her.
"You fear for the zebra and blame yourself for her capture, do not. Her involvement would be known to me in due time, but how many others must I have locked away before that time? You believe your actions damned her to me, but they only spared countless others."
>"That- doesn't make me feel any better," she whispers shyly yet you cannot help but chuckle all the same.
>How much experience do you have with this? How many times has it been now? Three if you recall, though this encounter would add a fourth to the list.
"I thought not. Did you know, you are the third being who has received this -treatment- if you would..."
>"Did it help them?"
>Through a storm of thunder and lightning you stayed by her side, calming her, soothing her. You never needed to stay by her side for this matter again.
>The same mare needed your aid once more, though she feared no force bring harm to her, but instead her nerves were left for you. She appeared sated but in the ages that followed you could not be sure.
>Finally, before your final departure from Canterlot, your hands ran red with a griffon lying broken at your feet while she rested in the corner, legs crumbled and eyes locked. It was the first time she saw who you really were.
>From that moment on, before you tried to console her like you did her sister Luna, when she looked upon you with disgust and was revolted by your touch, you were truly lost to her, a monster.
"Sometimes. Sometimes not."
>"Does it get any easier?" she asks with a gulp, hooves clenching that much more fearing the answer. "Going forward?"
"It was never easy, Fluttershy. It will be much harder for you."
>You hold her head close as she breaks into tears a final time, "I- I was afraid you'd say that."
"Shh, it's okay. Let it all out, little one. You are my sister, never forget that."
>"The others- To them-"
"I won't let anything happen to you," you assure her, raising your voice as you do so. "You are my sister, and I will not see you come to harm from anyone. Anyone."
>At last you release her and stand, the sound of creaking wood signaling Andrew's imminent arrival.
"Wash the red from your eyes. Do not show your tears to your friends or enemies, regardless of their loyalty... Sister, what do you think of Andrew?"
>Of all the men beneath you it is he that has shared with her the most basic of kindness. In all manners of tasks you have recorded his attempts to teach and guide the mare where you have not. Through age comes wisdom.
>"Oh, he's- Sorry," she apologizes as she wipes away the signs of grief, "He's really nice. Nicer than the others have been."
>Hmm, good. If that is her impression then your mind is made up. "I mean, I don't want-"
"Your answer was adequate, Fluttershy. When you so choose, you will speak your oath before your brothers and tie this bond with blood. Andrew shall be your teacher, and you his apprentice. You will serve him as you do me and he will teach you the ways of our kind. You shall be responsible for of the other, and then there shall be no doubt of your kinship."
>Her voice weakens with a nod, "Okay." It is not your wish to push her, but her safety is of some importance to you, from both your enemies and those within your troop.
>Brushing your shoulders off you ensure your appearance is untarnished, mainly that of your knees which aimed to avoid Fluttershy's breakfast. "Anon... Thank you."
"It shall not happen again," you clear the brush aside before looking back to her. "And do not call me Anon. I buried him long ago."
>"Oh, I- I didn’t know." She assumes the burial of a physical nature, perhaps your brother or someone close who shared your name, Mous. You shan’t correct her.
"Return inside and find something to eat once more. Let us not speak of this again."