Rain poured down upon the lonely man’s shoulders. It hit his head, some drops coming to a stop in the wool cloth that made up the hood he wore, others streamed down the sides like the tears coating his cheeks. With his back against a crumbling wall, he was hoping it would break down any second and send him backwards into the burning inferno surrounding him. To take him away from this hell, release him from the pain.

But the release never came.

The rain kept on falling, and the fires around him roared like ever before. Despite the warmth spreading from the flames, he was soaked to the bone, shaking beyond control. Nothing seemed to be able to mend that, or the shattered heart beating erratically inside his chest. Thunderclaps echoed above him, but he never saw the lightning travel through the skies and hit the forest nearby. Nothing could make him lift his head; nothing could make him take his eyes away from the floor.

He didn’t feel the rains coldness, couldn’t feel his own body tremble. The only thing the man could feel was life slowly draining from his arms and hands. The heartbeat that he deep down inside already knew had stopped, yet he could feel it ever so slightly against his body. And it became more and more weak. Fading away together with the essence of life seeping out of the lifeless body he held.

“You… Are you still punishing me?

The man’s voice was a low, broken one. Cold and dead, without a single trace of what made a human being into a living creature. It was the voice of a man trying to reach up from his own depths, knowing that it is useless. The final whisper before the fall into oblivion.

“All of this… Is your fault…”

The string around his neck seemed to vibrate as he spoke, as if the ring hanging on it felt his words and knew he was talking to it. Blaming it for all of this death and destruction. He wanted to reach up, grab the evil thing and toss it away, but he didn’t want to let go of the pony in his arms. Didn’t want to lose it forever, and if he did let go of it, he would. The faint heartbeat would stop, and death would become a reality.

Blood still oozed from the many wounds of the creature he held in his arms, and a large puddle had formed around them. Dark and foreboding, looking more like oil in the light of the flames. A sword rested on the floor a few meters away, its blade coated in fresh blood, and red skid marks covered the ground around it after it flew across the room.

If only he hadn’t dropped it. If he’d been faster, perhaps this night would have ended differently. Perhaps he wouldn’t be holding the dead pony in his arms, crying and shaking. Perhaps this small cabin would still be standing firm and not burning to the ground with this broken man inside of it.

The distant heartbeat stopped.

“Luna…”

Dust let his head sink further down, touching the pony’s forehead with his own. His sobs became louder, turning into full screams, wailings of sorrow and anger. He held the pony close, the heat of life slowly leaving the its body. Hi pressed his face harder against that of the pony, trying his best to be as close as possible to it.

“Don’t go…”

Above him, the rain still poured down.

“Do you remember what day it is tomorrow?”

The voice broke the silence in the room. The owner of it sat in his usual chair, with his usual glass of apple whiskey in his right hand. He had his elbow propped against one of the armrests of the chair with his arm straight up, allowing him to gaze through the glass filled with amber fluid in his hand. Through it, he saw a distorted image of the pony he was addressing, sitting on the opposite side of him, staring into the roaring fireplace in front of them.

His closest friend, Silversoul. A strange unicorn that joined the court on the day of their wedding so many years ago, together with his brother Goldgaze.

“Of course, sir.” Silversoul answered, averting his brilliant golden eyes away from the fireplace. The flames still reflected in his irises, dancing like burning fury within. “June 21, if I’m not mistaken. A rather special day for you and your lovely wife, isn’t it, sir?”

The man holding the glass of whiskey chuckled at the unicorn’s answer before taking another sip from the glass. Unlike most whiskey that had a strong taste, this one was smooth and sweet, without any sign of the usual smokiness of alcohol he was so used to. Because of this, he tended to drink a bit too much at occasions.

Still chuckling, he slowly rose from his chair, the whiskey already starting to affect his balance. He felt the eyes of Silversoul follow him as he staggered across the room in a very unlordly manner which most would deem unworthy for the king of Equestria. Silversoul probably pursed his mouth at his behaviour behind his back, but the alcohol told him to fuck all of them and have another drink.

On his third attempt, the man finally managed to grab hold of the bottle on the counter in front of him. It was a hand – or rather, hoof – tailored counter, chiselled out of finest ebony and adorned with sculptures and carvings depicting a warrior wielding the moon as a weapon against a withered sun. At the end of the counter, the moon shone brightly above the heads of millions of smiling ponies.

It had been a gift from his wife about five years ago, and he took as good care of it as he did her.

He did his best to not spill anything on the top of the counter, polished into a beautiful mirror sheen. As he looked down, he could see his own face reflecting in the wood. Small eyes, blonde hair and a trimmed beard. No big pony eyes, no snout. A human face, still looking exactly the same as it did ten years ago. He still couldn’t believe he’d reached his 30s and didn’t look a year older than twenty.

Luna loved his face.

“I think you’ve had quite enough for one night, sir.”

Dust spun around to look at his friend. He held his own refilled glass in his right hand, and a new glass in his left. He looked at Silversoul through his drunken haze, straining himself to focus on his face. The fact that the only light in the room came from the fireplace didn’t make it any easier.

“Maybe... But you desperately need a drink, man.”

Without awaiting a response, the human wobbled back across the room to his chair

“I hardly think it suits a stallion of such position as I to take part in those kinds of frivolities.” Silversoul answered, his voice sounding almost a bit too regal, even more kingly than Dust himself had to sound like when he held public speeches. Sometimes when Luna wasn’t there, he actually dropped that charade and spoke to his people like any other man would. Relaxed and friendly.

“See, that’s why I love you, Silver.” He stuttered in response. “Despite being friends for… I’m sorry; it seems I’ve lost the ability to count… How long has it been? Fuck it, never mind. We’ve been friends for a long-ass time, but you still refuse to talk to me like a normal pony would.”

“Because I respect you, sir, like any pony would.”

“Ah, fuck you.” Dust pushed the glass of whiskey against his friend’s snout, stirring it slowly in his hand. Silversoul looked down on the glass, and Dust couldn’t help but laugh at his eyes as they darted downwards. “Just take it, you posh little asshole.”

Silversoul sighed, and a golden aura of magic engulfed the glass in front of him. Dust smiled, glad that the stallion finally had been defeated. A few seconds later, they both sipped on their whiskey, and Dust could almost feel the tension in his friend seep away like water through a grate.

“So… anything special planned for tomorrow, sir?” Silversoul asked with a tone on his voice that sounded a bit too blurry for somepony that had only had one glass. Dust wasn’t sure how much he could take, compared to himself.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure she’ll love it…” Dust whispered in response, still stirring the glass between his fingers.

“Very good, sir.”

The man looked away from his glass yet again, back at the stallion next to him. He squinted his eyes to see him better, since the whiskey had coated his eyes in a veil of blurry water.

“You need another drink, Silver.”

Before Silversoul could utter any potential denial he had within him, the bottle of whiskey levitated up to his face, a red glow of magic encasing it. Dust wasn’t moving, but Silversoul could see something changing within his eyes as the magic caused the bottle to tip over and pour more alcohol into his glass.

“Sir? What was that?”

“You’ve never seen it before, huh?” Dust answered. “I’ve got magic flowing in my veins, just like you.”

“I see, sir.”

“Drink, damn it.”

They drank in silence, nothing but the sound of the crackling fire and the swallowing of alcohol filling the quite room. Their glasses emptied and filled up twice, and Dust’s wold had begun to shift and spin around itself. Silversoul seemed to had dropped his guard and let the image of nobility shatter on the floor.

Dust slouched down in his chair, his knees bending as the lower part of his back slipped off the chair. In the movement, a few drops of the apple whiskey fell upon his shirt, but he was too happy to care about it. Silversoul had somehow ended up on his back in his own chair, resting his neck on one armrest and his hind legs on the other. If Dust had been sober, he would probably be choking from laughter at the sight of his friend in such a position.

“Re… remember the, uh… What’s it called again… funeral? No, wedding! Remember my wedding, man?”

“You know what; I can still feel that punch you threw in my face, Dust…” Silversoul answered, stuttering in his speech. “Did you… did you really hate the colour of my mane that much?”

Dust chuckled, his mind clearing just for a second. He remembered the first time he saw Silversoul and his twin brother, standing just a few feet away from him as he eagerly awaited his beautiful bride to be. He remembered their perfectly matched black manes and white coats. Then his mind blanked out yet again, replaced by images of the nights with his wife.

“Well, you had it coming, you bastard.” He said with a laugh that came out more like the cackle of a crazy old witch than the friendly chuckle he had intended. “You did say I wasn’t worthy of your princess.”

“You weren’t!” Silversoul responded. “A bloody human marrying our princess… blasphemy, I say, sir! Blasphemy and her-heresy!” Both of them burst out laughing at his poor attempts to mimic his own posh behaviour.

“Don’t make me slap you again, sir!” Dust answered, trying to sound as regal as he could. All that came out was a blurry line of words spoken in the same way as someone talking in their sleep. Still, the two friends only heard what they wanted to, and kept on laughing through their haze.

“You gonna throw your glove at me or what?” Silversoul said, raising the bottle of whiskey with his magic to fill his glass again. “Ah, shit… it’s empty…”

“You drank my last Sweet Apple whiskey, you-you… you… pony?” Silversoul tried to stutter an excuse, but Dust raised a hand to silence him. From his place on his back at the floor, he couldn’t see anything else than the underside of the small table over him, and when he raised his hand he accidentally hit it. His glass fell down to the floor. Luckily it hit his chest rather than the floorboards and didn’t break.

“No matter, dude. You deserved this…” Slowly the human crawled over on the floor, heaving himself back up in his chair at the speed of light. At least, in his mind he was; in reality he was moving at the same speed as that of a sloth. A very drunk sloth.

“You know something, man? I was wrong. So incredibly fucking wrong.” Silversoul whispered slowly, still not moving out of his place in the chair.

“A-about what…?” Dust asked, feeling the world spin around him, darkness approaching from all sides.

“About you and Luna. I was wrong…”

“You gonna go all fuzzy and sentimental on me, now?” Dust said back, chocking down a giggle. “If you do, I’ll throw you out the window. Ass first.”

“I’m serious, dude.” Silversoul continued, clearly not paying any attention to his friend’s drunken threats. “She couldn’t have chosen a better husband. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone… any pony at least, that shows so much caring for their beloved.”

“That’s it, sir; I’m going to have to slap the crap out of you.”

“You’re one of a kind, Dust.”

“You don’t… you don’t know… What I’ve done…” Dust began, tripping over his own words. He couldn’t feel his tongue or chin, and his mouth felt like jelly. If Silversoul said anything back, he didn’t hear it.

Dust, husband of Queen Luna and rightful king of Equestria threw up over the floor before falling over, his mind slipping away into shadow and deep sleep.