Luna had grown impatient and had taken matters into her own hoof. She knew that what she was doing was impetuous and foolish, but Rookwood did not have a monopoly on being a lovesick fool. Her armored shoes struck death knells on the black basalt stone floor. She was covered from horn to hoof in plate mail, a relic from an earlier time. Her sister, Celestia, who did not agree with this course of action, but had insisted on coming with her, strode beside her, also covered in plated mail and protective barding.

Luna’s most trusted guards also walked with them, not that they were capable of doing anything. Not here. They were there for display, for show, a token gesture and nothing more. It was more for their benefit. The ability to boast that you had been to Tartarus was a rare prize. It was a boast that was sure to get you a few free drinks, and it made an interesting story to tell your grandfoals.

It had been a while since Luna had last visited Tartarus.

Luna was in a massive throne room, impossibly large, something that would only fit within extra-dimensional space. Death was being an exceptionally gracious host and had agreed to see them right away. Death was known for making visitors wait for centuries, especially immortal visitors. Waiting was one of the many punishments of Tartarus.

Luna approached the throne, head held high, her armor clanking with every step. It echoed into empty spaces and off of massive basalt pillars. It pressed painfully against her extended belly, a pain she did her best to ignore.

“Greetings.” The Accuser studied Luna, his blank eye sockets peering at her intently.

“We have been expecting you. To be honest, I am surprised you did not arrive sooner.” The Defender watched Celestia carefully, there had been harsh words between them before.

“Where is he?” Luna demanded.

“No exchange of pleasantries?” “How rude.” Both of Death’s heads turned to look at one another and then went back to looking at the sisters, each head eyeing a differing sister. “You haven’t aged a day.” Both heads spoke in unison this time, jawbones clacking.

“WHERE IS HE?” Luna demanded again, her voice booming through the vast space. “Are you torturing him even now?”

Both of Death’s heads turned to Luna. “No. Rookwood rests. For now, that part of his education is done. He has acquired much wisdom and the knowledge to do his job.”

“So he is comfortable? And at peace? And what of Violet? Is she here?” Luna demanded.

Death sighed.

“Answer.” Celestia said, her voice authoritative and commanding.

Death shifted on his throne, settling his bones. “If I came into your throneroom and behaved this way, you’d be quite upset. What ever happened to the pantheon behaving pleasantly to one another?” Both heads asked in unison.

Luna stopped her hoof, causing a large crack to appear, splitting the basalt.

“Tartarus hath no fury like that of a mare scorned.” Celestia warned. “Do not force me to bring the sun here.”

Death made a gesture with his hoof and somehow his bone structure looked annoyed. “The last time you did that it made quite the mess. Parts of Tartarus are still burning. You certainly changed the landscape.” Death said in languid tones. “We use those burning pits by the way. They’ve been most useful.”

“ENOUGH!” Luna shrieked, her grief thick in her voice.

Luna’s guard moved to form a protective circle around the two sisters, a futile and useless gesture, but it made them feel better.

“Rookwood is currently in tutelage with the Reaper of Griffons.” The Accuser lifted his skeletal hoof and studied it.

“They are out in the realms of the living collecting souls.” The Defender added. “There is a plague in the griffon homeland. The Reaper of Griffons felt the need to go and deal with the griffon chicks and hatchlings personally rather than send an extension of her will. Rookwood is learning how to comfort those freshly dead and seeing to the welfare of the very young.”

Luna calmed visibly and lifted her visor, making her face visible. Her guard relaxed slightly. Celestia followed her sister’s lead, also lifting her visor and making her face visible and exposed.

Death seemed unphased by the gesture of trust.

“He does this willingly?” Celestia asked

“After his experience with Violet, he jumped at the chance to do so.” The Accuser answered.

Celestia took a deep calming breath and blinked several times, feeling a rush of relief.

“There is a manner I wish to discuss.” Luna announced.

“if it is the release of his soul, you know the answer.” Death said in unison.

Luna bared her teeth for a moment, her lips curled into a snarl. Her armor squealed and clanked as her body tensed and her muscles flexed. “No. There is a different matter I wish to discuss. A difficult issue that I need to settle with you.”

“I am listening.” Death replied in unison.

“Before his death, Rookwood and I planned to be married. Nothing was ever made final, but it had been thought about.” Luna’s voice was pained, her regal tone interrupted by cracks of emotion breaking her words.

“And you wish to marry a damned soul?” The Accuser asked.

“Do you wish to sustain him in the physical realms?” The Defender inquired.

“Yes.” Luna answered, her voice breaking once again, becoming shrill and emotional.

“We pondered if this might be the case.” Death said, his voices in harmony. “We hoped that this might be the case.”

“What?” Celestia asked, her voice full of surprise and confusion.

“We need Rookwood anchored and secured. We have needs that need to be met and we have chosen Rookwood as an extension of our will, a shred of our mantle. We need a stable Lord of Nightmares. Someone that will do the job for the right reasons. We do not need another monster. We need someone who will drive souls back into the light out of a sense of compassion and love, and not out of a sense of sadism and malice, satisfying their own sick needs..” Death’s heads turned to one another several times as they spoke, their jawbones creaking. “I do not enjoy having to torture the damned or having to sentence souls to time spent as a bonepile.”

“What is so bad about being a bonepile?” A guard dared ask, breaking protocol.

Death looked mildly annoyed. “Imagine if you will, being forced to think about all of the terrible things you’ve done and how it might have hurt others And then being forced to think about how those you hurt may have gone on to hurt others because of your actions. Like a stone dropped into a pond, causing ripples. It is a period of deep reflection where you try to understand how much harm you cause in the world. And should your mind wander, and you cease to be reflective, well, imagine sitting on a white hot plate of iron.”

The guard hissed, his wings fluttering, his tail flickering. “I gotta stop gambling.”

“After some time spent in a bonepile, most souls are eager to discuss their failings and beg forgiveness for their sins. And if they are truly repentant, they pass on to Elysium.” Death commented.

“About the idea of marriage...” Luna said, restoring the conversation. “If I were to marry him, I need to know that you will not interfere in Equestrian politics. That you will not use Rookwood to sway opinions in the realms of the living. I need for you to declare neutrality in your hold over him.”

“Done.” Agreed the Accuser.

“Wait.” The Defender said.

The Accuser shot the Defender an annoyed and irritated look.

“I have a proposal,” the Defender announced, “something you will do anyway, but I’d like to make it official.”

“We are listening.” Celestia said, looking at Luna, who stood nodding.

“We propose a temporary alliance. We want Nightmare Moon destroyed. Gone. We want her drug before us in chains so that she might learn the error of her ways. We would ask you to assist Rookwood in his efforts, something I know you will already do. In return, we will give you access to our considerable resources, we will send aid to help you in your efforts, and we give the promise to remain neutral in future dealings.” The Defender sat back and looked pleased with himself. “We will not use our hold over Rookwood against you or your efforts, provided of course that you never move against us directly.”

“Done.” Luna said, looking at her sister, who was nodding.

“I agree.” The Accuser replied.

“I ask a boon.” Celestia said, her voice nervous.

“Speak Solar Empress.” The Accuser said.

“The foal, Violet. I understand that she is probably bound in some way to these events, and that cannot be changed. But I would like the ability to hold her and comfort her. It is heart breaking to see her and be unable to sooth her hurts.” Celestia’s voice cracked nearly as much as Luna’s did, a single tear spilled from Celestia’s eye and landed upon the black basalt.

Death slid from his throne, his bones clattering, and he landed on his four hooves. He stretched his skeletal wings, appearing almost lazy, and stretched his neck bones, causing them to crackle. He strode towards Celestia, Luna’s guard now backing away and giving Death plenty of room.

“I did not expect one so white and pure to so readily accept death.” The Defender announced as Death continued towards Celestia.

“Do you have anything to offer in return?” Death asked, his voices speaking together.

“Only the comfort of a foal that will never age and will know suffering through the ages.” Celestia responded, her tone both sad and angry.

“We find your terms acceptable.” Death said, extending his hoof and touching Celestia’s armor, pressing his hoof through the metal as though it was not there. There was a loud hissing sound and the smell of burnt hair and flesh.

Celestia gritted her teeth but did not cry out, her eyes squeezing shut as the burning continued. She stood, resolute against the pain, determined not to cry out or falter.

Celestia was proud.

Should she ever end up as a bone pile, it was something she’d have to think about.

Luna watched, waiting, wondering what she might have to endure to be with Rookwood. Tartarus had its own currency of exchange. She also worried a great deal about her foal. Even now, her armor was pressing uncomfortably against her belly, reminding her of what she carried.

With a final hiss, Death withdrew from Celestia, pulling his hoof away. Celestia stood, teeth bared, her nostrils flaring, smoke rising from her chest. Her eyes blazed with inner fire, and her mane and tail had become a solar corona.

“Done.” Death said, a heavy sense of finality in his words. “I wish to offer a boon to the mother-to-be as well.” Death announced.

“Do you wish to brand me?” Luna asked.

“No,” replied Death, his heads speaking in unison, “but the knowledge will hurt you even while it comforts you.”

Luna stood at attention with a clank, her armor clattering as she braced herself. “I accept.”

Death turned towards Luna, taking a step closer to her. Both heads regarded her, studying her, taking in her regal beauty. Even in plated mail, Luna was a radiant creature. “When Rookwood’s soul was laid bare, stripped down to his component parts, as the tormentors examined what he was made of, Rookwood used your name to retain his own force of will and remained defiant. A defiant and willful streak that he still bears. Usually, the tormentors have means to root out such unruly behaviour. Believe me, they rose to the challenge.”

Luna remained rigid for a several moments, and then staggered, falling sideways, her guard scrambling to catch her before she fell. She crashed into one of her guard, leaning against his body, her breathing heavy and ragged in her throat. Luna’s legs wobbled, her armor clattering as she struggled to remain standing.

“I chose Rookwood because his defiant streak amused me.” Death continued. “Mortals usually lack any sort of meaningful passion. They mean well, and they love, but when it comes right down to it, their souls lack conviction to follow through with any sort of real testing and love crumbles away like so much dust and dirt over time. Rookwood willingly allowed every aspect of his being to be taken, the tormentors had barely even begun their work when Rookwood broke and gave of himself, but Rookwood stubbornly refused to let go of his sense of love to allow it to be examined. The tormentors became quite frustrated. The concept of ‘privacy’ infuriates them to no end. There are no secrets here in Tartarus. I had to personally take a hoof in the matter.”

Luna felt herself being held aloft in magic, sparing her an embarrassing fall. Her tongue felt dry and clove to the roof of her mouth. Her lips clung painfully to her teeth, her mouth as dry as the desert. She struggled not to break.

“In the end, this is why I chose him and allowed him to broker a bargain.” Death said. “I believe that Rookwood will perform his task and keep to the terms of his service out of a simple desire to be with you. It is a gamble I am willing to take. You should spend some time reflecting upon the nature of your love.”

“Thank you.” Luna replied, her voice a harsh gravely whisper. “I will take your words into consideration and think upon the wisdom you have so graciously offered.”

“And now, I must ask you to leave. I have others waiting to see me, and I must get back to pondering important matters while I keep them waiting.” Death said in unison.

Author's Notes:

Pantheon level politics.