Honour Bound

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It was time for Corporal Bound to turn in. Having spent the last two hours perched on a barstool in the Canterlot Barracks canteen, her plot could stand a trot somewhere further than the washroom.

At least her company for the evening had been conservative with his drink, discouraging her by example from allowing herself to get too sloshed. Drunkenly stumbling her way back to the Palace would really not be a good idea. Especially not with the rain coming down outside.

As the thundershower, whipped up by spring winds, lashed against the canteen's windows, Alex Castlerook, one of the only ponies Honour ever respected in the Royal Guard, sat across the little cocktail table from her, nursing the final dregs of his ale. They’d had a pleasant time swapping stories, but she really ought to be going now.

"I should probably call it a night."

The sergeant -- ‘Sergeant! You could've been one too by now, if you'd put your mind to it!’ -- nodded his head at her.

"Yeah, me too. We've gotta bugler in the 186th who thinks 'e's Princess Celestia, blowin' loud enough to raise the sun, never mind the whole regiment." Already slurring his words slightly, it was apparent that Castlerook was a bit of a lightweight after just five stout pints. Not like Honour, who was still holding it together after eight.

Well, who cares? Drinking alcohol was hardly a skill to boast about, was it?

Buck no it wasn’t, not unless you're some blasted 'shoe fresh out of camp!

"... It was nice to catch up with you, Bound."

She blinked her eyes and nodded.

"Likewise, Castlerook."

Alex tilted his head slightly sideways and played with the handle of his beer-glass, rotating the mug back and forth.

"How'dya feel about doin' this again sometime... Honour?"

First name. They’d stuck with last names, up to that point.

At first, their excuse was because there were a few other NCOs from the 186th in the bar, and he was introducing -- or re-introducing -- her to them when they came by. But now, this close to last call, there was hardly anypony left. No surprise, after a long ride and march up there from Filly'. They were all just tuckered out, and the alcohol sure didn't help. But Castlerook was keeping it together, even if the conversation had been thin. Honour hadn't really contributed much, which was a surprise even to her.

Before she’d left, she donned her red service uniform and dabbed just a hint of makeup on around her eyes. Not that she had any makeup on her -- but Glamerspear did, and she doubted she'd miss the minuscule amount she’d borrowed off her.

What the hay, she could pay her back later if she complained.

But instead of loosening her up and putting her in the mood to socialize, the preparations had just wound her up even tighter than she’d been at dinner. It was so bucking frustrating! Honour was supposed to be there to have a good time -- and she liked Castlerook, damn it! He was a good colt, and a good guardspony, and had been a good friend in the past, too. Even managed to fill in the empty conversation where she’d been quiet. And he hadn't tried to pull any slick moves on her. That invitation to a date had been as casual as it could have been. So why was she feeling so cold now that she was out with him? Was it just the fact that it is 'a date', and she hadn't been on one of those in over a year?

Or was there something else that was stressing her out?

Maybe it's how Castlerook was a reflection of what she could have been. She could have been a sergeant by now, or maybe even made staff sergeant. Celestia knows she had the brains for it, if she could just squish them into order and actually apply them to the task. That'd require her to want to be a sergeant, though.

Well if Honour didn’t want to be a sergeant, then why did it make her feel bad to see Castlerook as one?

‘The Tartarus do you want?’

"...Bound? You okay over there?" Alex reached a hoof across the table and rested it gently on her foreleg.

‘Buck, how long have I been thinking?’

"Sorry... I've..."

She sighed.

"...It's been a long day."

Swallowing, she continued. “But yeah, let's do this again sometime."

‘Buck your apprehensions. Commit now, before you have the chance to say 'no'.’

If she wanted to second-guess herself into misery, there was always tomorrow.

"Alright. I'll have to let you know how the schedulin' goes; might pull a night watch or two."

She lifted her head up and narrowed her eyes. "Night watch? Since when do Royal Guard ponies stand for the Canterlot night shift?"

Alex shrugged. "Since we got orders to do it, I suppose."

"Bullshit. That's been the Night Guard's duty almost since Luna came back."

The Sergeant lifted up his mug and sipped the last dregs of his brew. "I don't know anything more than what I'm told. And you know the rule on this subject: Don't Ask, Don't Tell."

Honour chuckled. "Heh, yeah. Except I didn't ask, but I got told anyways."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "What're you on about?"

Honour should probably shut up.

But she didn’t.

"Got a batpony in my quat'. Got the whole deal on their kind from Her Majesty herself. She thinks my VIP's got it in him to be some kind of ambassador. Damned if I don't believe her, too."

"Yeah?" He shrugged. "You know more than me, then. Hope you didn't spill that into the Underground, though."

She shook her head. "Come on, Alex. I've got more sense than that."

‘The buck are you using his first name for?’

‘The buck are you still talking for?’

Castlerook pushed his mug around some more. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have told me nothin', neither."

‘This bucker talking down to you?’

Just because his plot made Sarge without trying, while she stayed stuck at Corporal due to not trying even harder? Thinks he can boss her around because he outranks her? Invites her on a date, for which she’d have to go and get herself all buckin' tarted up, and he didn’t even have the decency to put a bucking move on her!

‘Oh, buck.’

‘Get a hold of yourself, Honour.’

‘He's more sober than he sounds.’

And maybe she was drunker than she sounded, too.

Honour Bound shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment to try to clear the haze.

"I gotta get to bed. I've got the morning shift tomorrow."

She tried to get to her hooves, but the ground felt distant beneath her, and she had to keep her forelegs hooked onto the cocktail-table like it was the only thing holding the world up.

"Okay."

After some struggling, she managed to get one hesitant hoof down on the wooden floor, and then the other. Letting go with the other two was enough of a struggle that she felt herself sweating from the exertion. And, with the stress of that physical challenge, combined with everything going through her mind right now, she felt not just a bit of sweat collecting at her brow, but a few tears escaping from her eyes.

Honour had to sit down on the floor for a second to wipe it all away.

As she sat there for far longer than she realized, sniffling and catching her breath, she felt a warm foreleg wrap around her.

“...Hey, hey, hey. Are you okay? C'mon, let me walk you back to the palace."

His steady, warm embrace -- not that it was much of one, it was just the bare minimum -- had her feeling both attracted and disgusted.

‘Won't this colt just come out and buckin'... kiss me or something? Aren't you worth it?’

‘He'd better get his hooves off of you, the damned dirty colt, sizing you up like a piece of meat. Buck off, buddy!’

The contradicting opinions only served to intensify her headache. It's all she could do but to nod weakly in agreement.

"Yeah, let's go."

"Alright, just put one hoof in front of t'other, okay? It's called walking."

‘Bucking…’

‘This colt and his lame-plot jokes.’

Honour couldn’t help but snort in spite of herself. And, as he steadily escorted her out the canteen door, at least he had the decency to chuckle at his own awful attempt at humour.

"It's rainin' pretty hard out there. We'll take the long way 'round, if you can manage it. Safer than risking the slippery roads, I think."

"Sure. I'm not... I'm not that bad. I can stand on my own."

Sure enough, she did, and he withdrew his supporting foreleg. Taking a deep breath, she walked alongside Sergeant Castlerook, trying not to look drunk as she paced the barracks hallways on her way to the Palace. Ordinarily, this long, winding walk -- the direct route across the garden was at least three times faster -- would give her time to think.

But frankly, thinking is the last thing she wanted to do right now.

Honour just wanted to focus on one hoof in front of the other -- it's called walking, or so she’d heard. And she didn’t want anything of what was going through her head earlier to show its ugly face again. Those were thoughts for sober-time.

As much as she tried not to think about Castlerook, though, her thoughts still turned to tomorrow. What was the Royal Engineer going to say when she showed up for duty hungover?

She’ll have disappointed him for the third time.

The first being when she picked the wrong play at Oldstirrup bridge -- what a mess that was.

The second, when she blew up at him over a minor offense and a slip of the tongue -- ‘Should've been shitcanned after that one!’

Except the weird thing was, he didn't think she’d disappointed him very much at all. The buck was with that colt? Couldn't see a failure for what it was?

For what she was?

And this colt, too, for that matter!

‘Well, if he's got any senses left in him, he'll know now, Honour.’

He'll know why she’s still a Corporal, on the slow road to washing out, sticking in the VIP section that most ponies treat as just a quick tourist vacation. No makeup or fancy clothes could cover that up.

Before Honour could wallow much deeper in her misery, she realized she’d already reached her wing of the palace. Her room was just the next door down.

As she approached it, she glanced over at Castlerook. He looked tired, but determined. He gave her a sympathetic look when he noticed her examining him.

She stopped in front of the door, and gulped.

"Well, this is me, here."

Castlerook looked at the door, then back at her. "Okay. You sure you're all right?"

"Nothing some sleep won't cure."

As they looked each other over, the conflicting feelings started to whisper in her mind. Half of her wanted him to lean in for a kiss. She’d grope for the door-handle and pull him in, and lead him over to her bedroom, and then it wouldn’t just be Ebonshield who had some company tonight.

Oh yeah, she could hear something going on in there. Eb was quiet, but whoever she'd got with her sure wasn’t.

The other half of her wanted Castlerook to keep his distance. That part was just about ready to slap him if he tried anything. He knew what her ex did to her. He knew he should take it slow, and let her ease into this. But she wanted it. She wanted something, anything, so badly...

Perhaps seeing the tension and exhaustion in her eyes, Alex just nodded. "See you around, then, Corporal. I'll be on base for at least the next two weeks."

‘You can't let him get away from you like this!’

"Send me a note when you know your schedule."

A warm smile crept onto his face. "I will. Goodnight."

He turned to leave, and she put a hoof on the door-handle, and pushed her way in.

Thank Celestia, nopony else was up -- besides Eb and tonight's lucky colt.

Honour had just enough time to covertly wash the streaky remains of her makeup off and pass out in her bed to still get five or six hours of sleep tonight. But she knew, she knew, that if she had any dreams at all that night, they were going to be the bucked-up ones.

She just hoped that they wouldn’t hit too close to home.

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