The skeletal draconequus was annoying and would not go away. Celestia had some very mixed feelings about this. He was slightly annoying, but it was comforting to see him again, in an odd way. It had been a long time. A very long time.

“Hades, I must ask, why are you suddenly taking such an interest in Equestrian politics?” asked Celestia, stopping in mid stride and questioning the skeletal form galumphing behind her.

“I have very little interest in Equestrian politics,” yawned Hades. “Your politics disgust me,” he added, his tail swishing in annoyance.

“Then why are you here?” snapped Celestia, finally losing her patience. “You’ve been away for so long, so detached, and now, after all this time, you just decide to come around again and make your presence known!”

“And I must ask you to forgive me for that. I got distracted. I became a little melancholy. Certainly you can forgive your father’s friend, hmm?” said the skeletal draconequus, clicking his claws on the floor, the blue flames in his eye sockets becoming purple for a moment. “You were not the only one hurt by the loss of your father. He was my friend. I trusted him. I loved him dearly. When our war spilled out into the land of the living, your father bravely put a hoof down and stood up to the darkness. I was already in a bad mood, having him suddenly show up in my court of the dead caused me real grief. I wasn’t prepared to deal with it,” confessed Hades.

“And you holed up in your dark little pit and ignored those who needed comfort after his death. Or how about when I had to banish my sister and needed someone to comfort me? Where were you then? You severed all ties that existed between us. And now you just show up and act like nothing has happened, like everything is fine between us,” Celestia said, her tone acerbic and bitter.

“A little time has passed,” admitted Hades.

“OVER A THOUSAND YEARS HAVE PASSED,” growled Celestia, causing the nearby guards to snap to attention.

“I’m sorry?” said Hades, his tone wavering.

“I have had it with the cry of ‘I am sorry’ coming from every draconequus I know, as if that makes it better,” replied Celestia, her wings snapping out and flapping in frustration.

Hades slumped. “You and your sister are the only things I have left to remember him by.”

“You should have looked after your valuables,” Celestia snapped.

“Well, no time like the present, right?” Hades said.

“SOD OFF YOU MOLDY COLLECTION OF BONES!” Celestia cried, reaching her boiling point.

“You really are upset about this, aren’t you?” inquired Hades, not at all worried about the sudden increase of temperature. He noted that the guards certainly seemed concerned. They were retreating, and doing so rapidly.

“Look here you snot nosed little filly, I loved your father. He was very dear to me. And I broke the rules by helping you to ascend. I meddled in mortal affairs. The only reason why you are still alive thousands of years later and having this conversation is because I saw a need for an alicorn perspective in the world, oh you of noble politics,” said Hades, lifting one claw and tweaking Celestia’s nose. “Your whole race would have died off had I not interfered. And now there are two minor alicorns around, the first step in rebuilding your race, and you have endured these long years to see a revival. Others willappear in time and eventually, the world will see your kind again.”

Celestia deflated, her anger gone, her wings slumping, the tips touching the floor. She stood defeated, looking pummeled into submission.

“Your race stood so near destruction, even the Reaper of Alicorns perished during that conflict, banished into the void, dragging with him our hated enemy,” Hades said in a soft voice. “I had to collect and then hold to the scales your father’s soul myself. I almost didn’t have the nerve to do it,” confessed Hades.

Celestia said nothing, she remained slumped, her eyes beginning to flood.

“War is approaching again,” muttered Hades liplessly. “Even now there are forces in Tartarus that move in support of Nightmare Moon. The Realms of the Dead seek her destruction, but there are many who would go to war to support her. I will do what I can to make sure this does not spill out into the lands of the living.”

Celestia looked up at Hades, fear now visible on her face.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, I keep breaking the rules. I wrote the rules, I set the penalties for breaking them, and I should be the one following them. What can I say, I’m damned,” grumbled Hades, now slumping and looking as defeated as Celestia.

“War?” asked Celestia.

Hades nodded slowly.

“Again?” Celestia said in grief stricken tones.

“You look distraught. You know, you’re still not too big that I cannot bounce you on my knee like I did when you were little to make you feel better,” offered Hades.

Celestia sniffled a few times, her face now tear stained.

“Since I seem to be so fond of breaking the rules, would you like to know more about your future niece? Would that make you feel better?” asked Hades.

“No, I like surprises,” replied Celestia.

“Oh, she’s going to be full of surprises. I predict you are going to lose your love of surprises at some point,” Hades said in soothing tones. “All that you see right now, enjoy it while you can, the foal of terror and destruction approaches.”

Celestia gave a watery smile and looked Hades in the eye sockets. “Don’t talk about my niece that way.”

“No, really, you do not understand what is in store… or the worry that I have!”

Luna settled into her bed, home once again, exhausted and ready for the comforts of the world of the living. She was sad to leave Rookwood behind, but knew that he would visit. They had to begin the hunt. She had to begin to select her best guards. And then there was so much to do to get clearance to began to chase down those wanted. Diplomatic clearances to bring soldiers into foreign lands. The task ahead was complex.

She rolled over on her back and rubbed her belly. It was getting larger now. She had never been pregnant before, even when she was mortal, seed had never taken in her furrow for whatever reason. The magic of ascension had left her barren, just as it had left her sister.

She rubbed her impossible miracle and felt a warm rush of gratitude.

In Tartarus, Violet had coerced a promise from her, to never place her future sibling into harms way. Luna had balked at first, actually a little angry at Violet for her demands, but had reluctantly backed down and promised to stay back out of the direct physical fighting. Luna was immortal. She could survive grievous wounds that would crush her body into paste. The foal in her belly? Probably not. She did not know for certain. It was one of many questions she had.

Rookwood had looked visibly relieved when Luna had given her reluctant promise to Violet.

As she rubbed her belly, she felt the faint tingle of arousal, the feeling of her own fetlocks rubbing over her sensuous and silken belly. Her thoughts turned to Rookwood and his many tortures of the unicorn Waxing Moon. That thought proved to be quite arousing.

Rookwood had something that Luna found attractive. A quiet sense of dedication. Rookwood was good at his job. Luna did not feel bad at all about Waxing Moon’s torture. She was quite comfortable with it infact. She felt absolutely no pity at all for the unicorn’s plight after witnessing Violet’s creation.

Luna had never been one for unnecessary cruelty, but this was necessary. Seeing that Rookwood had found his niche, his calling, his purpose in life, that was comforting.

Luna heard her door open and she turned her head to see her sister.

“Hades has been visiting,” Celestia said, easing onto the bed with Luna, pressing up against her side and rubbing Luna’s belly with her chin. Celestia realised that she now shared these moments of closeness with another. After a brief moment of consideration, she realised she didn’t mind. Rookwood was responsible for Luna’s condition, and Celestia was now genuinely happy about it.

“I know,” replied Luna, “we spoke at length in Tartarus.” Luna wiggled, feeling Celestia’s chin tickle her navel. “Stop! Why must you always tickle me so!”

“I must admit, it is nice seeing Hades around again. I was angry at him. Now, I am not sure what I feel,” confessed Celestia, turning her head and pressing her ear to her sister’s navel. “He had dire warnings about the foal you carry in your belly Luna.”

“Hades is a tease,” Luna chuckled.

Rookwood looked upon the Wood of the Damned. It was filled with dead grey trees, trees with skeletal branches bare of leaves. It was filled with endless number of psychopomps, all his responsibility as an apprentice Reaper.

They sat in the trees, cawing madly, corvids and birds of all kinds.

But mostly corvids. In particular, crows, ravens, and rooks.

“Hungry?” asked Rookwood of his feathered charges, leading Waxing Moon along by a chain.

The flock crowed madly at the sight of food, wings began to flap, many took to the air and began to circle, all of them eager and hungry for a bite to eat. It was well past feeding time.

Rookwood enjoyed this job. It was considered an unfavourable position, grunt work given to Death’s various agents, but Rookwood intended to keep his title ‘Lord of Psychopomps.’ He didn’t see it as a chore. It was quiet pleasurable activity, like feeding pigeons in the park. It allowed him to have quiet moments of reflection.

Waxing Moon began to scream pitifully, pleading for mercy. Rookwood had already shown mercy. Only one hundred years of torture before spending time as a bonepile. Rookwood willed the chain to vanish, leaving Waxing Moon frozen in place.

“Feed, my children,” commanded Rookwood, as the endless grey skies blackened and filled with vast swarms of hungry psychopomps who fell upon Waxing Moon’s flesh hungrily. They devoured his flesh, tearing it away from the bones, plucking out eyes, tearing away ears, all of which continued to grow back endlessly, leaving the unicorn in terrible torment.

Among the black swirling masses, a single purple raven led the frenzied masses in the endless feast, tearing out eyeballs as soon as one grew back. It tore at them hungrily, and, when the unicorn opened his mouth to scream, the purple raven plucked out his wriggling tongue, tearing it out with a single swift gesture, holding it aloft in its beak like trophy, and then devouring it as it cawed and cackled maniacally. As the psychopomps flew away, full from the feast, more of the endless swirling masses flew down to replace them, the unicorn’s torment unending.

“There is a moral here,” said Rookwood patiently. “You and I both, we served very little purpose in life. Now, we both serve a purpose in the afterlife. Do you know what brought us to where we are?” asked Rookwood, knowing there would be no response.

The unicorn’s screams turned to wet gurgles as his tongue was torn out again, not by Violet, but by some other hungry member of the seething black mass. Violet had perched upon Rookwood’s head, her avian belly now full and distended, her beak glistening with viscera and blood. She cawed riotously, dancing around on top of Rookwood’s head, occasionally tugging at an avocado green ear with her claws in an affectionate gesture.

“The choices we made,” said Rookwood, answering his own question. “I worked to serve another. You claimed to serve another, but you only sought to serve yourself. And look where it got you. Do you find this pleasant? Was what you did to Violet, satisfying your own sick needs, worth one hundred years of this? I was selfless, which is why I was given a second chance. You were selfish, which is why you will suffer through every creative punishment I can think of when you are not under the tender mercies of the tormentors down in the black pits. I bet these moments are almost like a vacation of sorts after what goes on down there. When you are a bonepile, I want to you think about how you hurt others with your actions. How we all suffered because of what you did. Princess Twilight Sparkle no longer knows any innocence after your grievous actions. Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor remain haunted. I have seen their dreams. I have seen how they suffer. Think of the memories you left behind. Now think of how much responsibility the various Princesses have and how they serve ponykind. And think about how many ponies you may have hurt because the Princesses now lose sleep, and their ability to serve is reduced due to fatigue. Even now, I am being merciful, trying to help you. Believe me, if you don’t have something to think about, being a bonepile is awful. It is a pity that you feel no gratitude for my mercy… I have spoken to your tormentors at length. You do not yet understand or recognise the tender gentle mercies I have shown you, but you will. We will keep having these lessons until understanding is reached, and I will not give up until I have helped you reach a new level of understanding. Before these hundred years are up, you will thank me for giving you so much to think about during your time as a bonepile.”

Rookwood smiled gently as Violet danced upon his head.