Somewhere in the lofty metropolis of Canterlot, in a high-rise apartment complex facing the dawn, a young Unicorn stallion named Night Light awoke in crippling agony.

Sunbeams bored into his weary eyes even through tightly clenched lids. Every muscle in his body felt sore and exhausted. Nausea loomed dormant in the pit of his stomach, waiting to lurch at the slightest unkind movement. His mane was an absolute mess, his fur was damp with sweat, and he was pretty sure he could both smell and taste vomit. But all of these facts were distant and secondary compared to the white-hot, skull-crushing ache in his forehead, centered somewhere just behind his horn.

With an audible whimper of pain Night Light brought a hoof to his head, gingerly rubbing the area around his horn, and rolled away from the window so his pupils could adjust to the searing light of the sun. Or enough, at least, to allow him to open his eyes and start trying to figure out just what the hell had happened.

He was in his bedroom, for starters; that was a welcome and relieving sight. Whatever had happened, at least he had ended up safe in the familiar embrace of his neatly-hung uniforms and his finely-polished armor stand and his too-stiff mattress. There was a distinct stench of alcohol, though, mingling with the already potent smell of regurgitated stomach contents, and a quick glance down at the side of his bed told him why. It appeared somepony had been sick into a mop bucket; and judging from the rotten taste in his mouth, Night Light guessed that pony was probably himself.

By now Night Light had a pretty good idea of why his head was in such crippling pain. In a general sense, at least. The specifics were slow to come back to him, but evidence so far suggested that it involved him and his friends having far too much to drink the night before.

Fighting the nausea still remaining in his stomach, he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, memories of the previous night gradually coming back to him. He remembered a bar, obviously… no, he remembered two bars. Three? No, it was definitely two… the third place had a bar, but if the amount of scantily-clad pony flesh he suddenly remembered seeing was any indication, the bar had not been the main attraction. There had been a toast, at some point too, for…some reason…?

“Pommel, I really don’t need…”

“Night Light, shut your mouth, I don’t take orders from you on or off duty. I will toast this whole room if I damn well feel like it and there is not a Goddess-blasted thing you can do about it.”

“Nnhh… well could you at least watch your mouth around the lady?”

“Pfftt--hahaha! Velvet, did you hear that? He’s calling you a LADY now. What a humungous LOAD.”

“Aww, I think it’s sweet, Pommel, shut up. Go on, Night Light, tell me ALL about what kind of lady you think I am…”

“W-well… uh…”

“Excuse me, Miss Bookworm, I was making a toast here!”

“Oh sheesh, fine, ruin my fun…”

“As I was saying! Ahem. Let us all three lift our mugs in honor of our noble accomplishments on this fine day! To Mister Night Light, in celebration of his first six months as Captain of the Royal Guard…”

“Heh… come on, it’s really not THAT big a deal…”

“It SO is! I bet you’re doing an amazing job, Night Light.”

“Y-yeah, well… I try, I guess--”

“Still toasting here!”

“Oh, well then, by all means, please, continue.”

“Ahem… to the lovely Miss Twilight Velvet, for her promotion to the – HIGHLY desirable, I’m sure – field of Apprentice Librarian to the Royal Archives…”

“Yeah, congratulations, Velvet, you really earned it!”

“Hehe, oh stop, Night Light, you’re making me blush…”

“…And last but not least… a toast to me! Because I’m just always that awesome.”

“Pommel, you’re not supposed to toast yourself, you enormous tool.”

“You WOULD know about enormous tools, wouldn’t you?”

“Hey, I said watch your mouth around her!”

“Hehe, I love it when you go all knight in shining armor for me. Maybe that’ll be the name of our first foal! What do you say, Night Light? We can get started right now…”

“U-uh… h-hey, uh, how about the next round’s on me?!”

“Good answer, Lighty! Another round over here!”

Night Light groaned and muttered obscenities to himself for a moment, the snippet of memory trailing off again into hazy blackness. That’s right, he recalled, his best friend Twilight Velvet had just gotten her promotion, and their other best friend Pommel had insisted on a celebratory night out. A celebration that had clearly gotten away from them somewhat. He needed to clean himself up, badly.

Night Light dragged himself lethargically out of bed and made his way across his apartment to the bathroom. His head hurt a little too much to use magic just yet, so he was forced to haul the used mop bucket along with him by his teeth, and he was nearly sick all over again just from the smell. Hastily he emptied the bucket in the toilet and rinsed it thoroughly in the sink, ensuring every trace of the vile contents had been flushed away so he could breathe clearly again, and then spent the next five minutes swishing and gargling what felt like half a bottle of mouthwash to clear vomit from his senses entirely. He spent another five minutes brushing his teeth, too, just for good measure, before reaching into the shower and turning it on. One nasty sensory assault dealt with, one still to go, he thought with a disgusted sniff of his own coat.

While he waited for the shower to warm up, Night Light returned to the bedroom next and dragged his tangled, sweaty bed-sheets off the mattress. He deposited them in the laundry bin, making a mental note to wash them once he was more fully awake, and then trotted back to the bathroom. The shower water was nice and steamy now, and it was with no small amount of eagerness that he leapt right in, groaning in immediate satisfaction and relief at the pleasant, cleansing warmth as it soaked through his midnight-blue mane and tail, through his lighter-blue coat, all the way down to his skin. Screw coffee; who needed that stuff when a good shower had him feeling loads better already?

After a minute of just soaking, he finally felt his headache had subsided enough to try some magic, floating a bar of soap and a washrag to himself in a pale-blue aura with, thankfully, minimal trouble. He sat back on his rear and hind legs and began to scrub his coat clean by magic, leaving his front hooves free to sweep his body for anything unpleasant that might have gotten stuck in his fur; it certainly wouldn’t have been the first time he’d gotten drunk with Pommel and Velvet and woken up with brambles or half-eaten hard candies or dried mustard stuck somewhere. To his luck, he seemed to be clear this time, which was a bit surprising, actually. He was no night owl, no matter what the twin crescent moons on his flanks suggested; this was probably the worst hangover he’d ever had. He’d never before been so drunk that he couldn’t remember what had gone on, but even after a good twenty minutes to wake up and recover, he still remembered so little about the previous night, which felt more and more troubling the longer he thought about it.

Shaking off the frown that was starting to form on his expression, Night Light refocused on the task at hoof, and ran the washrag down to his undercarriage, blushing a bit embarrassedly as he realized he had a bout of morning wood to contend with. He glanced down at himself as he did so, purely by chance, and froze instantly, dropping the soap and washrag completely in his surprise.

There was lipstick on his dick.

Why in the flaming pits of Tartarus was there lipstick on his dick?

“U-um, Velvet, I don’t mean to be rude, but, um… do you think you could, maybe…”

“Whaaaaaaaat? I’m not doing anything…”

“Nnhh… jeez, Velvet, come on… t-this is a little too touchy-feely, even for you…”

“Night Liiiiiiiight, relaaaaaaaax… I’m just resting my head… in your lap… under the table…”

“Oh jeez, c-come on… you’re not THAT drunk are you?”

“Noooooooo… I mean… okay, maybe a little… but your lap is so comfy…!”

“Nnhh, Velvet… t-there’s this thing called ‘personal space’…”

“Aww, quit complaining, Night Light… your little friend down here obviously doesn’t mind… hehe… he seems pretty friendly…”

“Ghhnn…! Okay, seriously, Velvet, we’re in public, stop it…!”

“Whaaaaaaaat…? You mean this…? Mmmmhhhh…”

“Ghhaaahh!!!”

*THUNK*

“OWWWWwwwwoooohhh my head…”

*THWUMP*

“Oh… o-oh goddess, Velvet, are you okay?! I’m sorry, you just… and I just reacted, and… Velvet? …Velvet? …You just passed out, didn’t you? …Velvet? …Shit.”

Night Light’s face flushed horribly. That’s right, he remembered, she had gotten thoroughly drunk too… Pommel had stumbled away for a few minutes for… some reason, and Velvet had taken the opportunity to… well, to try to suck him off, frankly. And he had, quite understandably, jerked out of his seat in shock, accidentally thwacking her head against the table in the process and knocking her out for the rest of the night.

Well. That was a memory he could certainly have lived without.

Night Light suddenly shifted the shower’s temperature to cold, trying not to think too hard about Twilight Velvet sucking him off in any context, and hastily scrubbed himself clean of any remnants of her lipstick. Silently he thanked the goddesses he’d maintained his mental faculties enough to ensure she hadn’t been successful, or who knew what else might have happened. The last thing he wanted to do was knock up his best friend in a drunken grope-fest. With any luck, he could simply pretend that moment hadn’t happened. Night Light had barely remembered it himself, and as bad as his hangover was, he had easily been the least drunk of the three ponies in their party. Velvet probably didn’t remember the night at all. He really hoped she didn’t, anyway. For both their sakes. Even a pony as forward as her would be embarrassed to remember… that.

Flushing again despite the cold water, Night Light again shook the images from his head as quickly as he could. He really couldn’t afford to dwell on this sort of thing, he had to finish cleaning up and get to--

Work.

His eyes bulged.

Oh buck.

Night Light slammed the faucet off and leapt from the shower, passing up the towel rack entirely and barging back into the main body of his apartment. With a feeling of dread in his chest he eyed the alarm clock on his bedside table, and sure enough the hooves on its face ticked along as regularly as ever, denoting the damning time of day. He was late. Two hours late.

“Oh, buck,” he repeated, out loud this time, and didn’t even bother drying off before grabbing his armor and bolting out the door.

Somehow he slipped into castle without incident; he’d felt the door guards’ curious eyes on him when he approached the front gate, surely wondering why his mane and tail were damp and un-groomed and his armor wasn’t fitted on his body quite right, but he strolled right past them as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary, and they reacted in kind, silently allowing him passage inside. He encountered nopony else once inside, an absolute marvel this late in the day, and a few brief minutes later he was in his office, heaving a relieved sigh as he sat down behind the desk. It didn’t look like anypony had come looking for him; no urgent messages, no extra paperwork, no fellow officers standing around waiting for orders. By some miracle, it seemed he was in the clear…

Knock knock.

…Almost.

“Come in,” he called, doing his best to spruce up his appearance in the few meager seconds he had before the door opened, and a pale-orange young Pegasus mare walked inside. She wore the armor of the Royal Guard, but the blank, unadorned state of her chest-plate, in contrast to the highly-decorated matching piece of his own armor, informed him that she was very new to the job; a Private, a rookie, probably barely out of cadet academy. Hadn’t even learned to keep her mane and tail trimmed short yet, instead allowing the blonde locks to overstuff and spill out of her helmet or drag on the floor. He was fairly certain he had no idea who she was, but all the same there was something familiar about her…

“Captain Night Light, sir,” she greeted him and saluted.

Night Light automatically returned the gesture. “What is it, Private?”

“I have the citation you requested, sir,” the mare announced, one dexterous wing extending to offer him a small piece of rolled-up parchment.

Night Light took it from her and unrolled it with a curious frown. “What citation?”

“For public indecency. We spoke about last night, sir.”

A muscle somewhere between Night Light’s cheek and eye twitched at the phrase ‘last night,’ and his gaze darted back up to the mare. “…We did?”

“Er… yes, sir. Don’t you remember?”

Night Light’s gaze darted rapidly back toward the citation in his hooves, wracking his brain. Why in Equestria would he have asked for a public indecency citation? And for who? He peered at the offender’s name on the formal little parchment, intent on determining just that. It was a surprisingly large fine, quite possibly the largest allowed by law for the crime; somepony must have really screwed up bad--

He gasped. He scanned the line a second time, hoping he’d misread, but it stubbornly refused to change. The name read, quite clearly, ‘Second Lieutenant Pommel.’

Oh, horseapples. That’s right. He’d lost track of Pommel at some point just before Twilight Velvet had pounced on him, and Night Light had gone looking for him… what had he gotten himself into? Something involving the cadet, he was sure…

“Screw you, lady, I wasn’t hurting anypony!”

“Sir, if you don’t calm down I’m adding resisting arrest to your charges.”

“Arrest me? You can’t arrest me, I’m an officer of the guard!”

“Sure you are, sir.”

“What the hay is going on out here…?! Pommel?!”

“Night Light! Thank Celestia, I--… whoa, is that Velvet out cold on your back?”

“Sir, please step back, this is official Canterlot business.”

“Damn, Lighty, I didn’t think date rape drugs were your style.”

“She’s not drugged, you moron, she just… hit her head! I was going to take her home once I found you.”

“Perfect, you found me, now will you tell this ROOKIE to get her feathers off my ass?”

“Sir, I said step back, please!”

“Ugh… Pommel, what the hay did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything! I stepped outside to take a leak and this NAG jumped me!”

“Mnnnhh… I’ll take it from here, Private.”

“Excuse me? …Oh goddess! I mean, I’m sorry, Captain Night Light sir, I didn’t recognize you--”

“It’s alright, Private. I’ll make sure he sobers up, just… take the cuffs off.”

“Sir, he was urinating on a mailbox.”

“…On or in?”

“ON, for the love of Celestia, Night Light, I’m not THAT flexible!”

“…Let’s call that a confession of guilt and co-operation, Private. No need for an arrest. A citation will suffice. …A HEFTY citation.”

“Sir!”

“He’s a good officer, Private, there’s no need to drag his name through the mud. He’ll feel the hit to his bits more than he’ll feel a night in lockup.”

“Gee, thanks, Lighty, you’re a real pal.”

“Wait, he’s… he’s ACTUALLY an officer?”

“Oh, so you believe HIM, but not ME?”

“Shut up, Pommel. Private, you have your orders.”

“…Yes sir.”

“…Sir?”

Night Light snapped out of the dazed rush of memories suddenly hitting him, and swore to himself to royally chew Pommel out the next time he saw that bum. “Yes, sorry, I remember now. Just took me a moment. It was a long night.”

“I could tell. Sir. Is the lady alright? The one you were carrying?”

“Yes, she’s fine. She’ll have a nasty headache when she wakes up, but she’ll be fine.”

“And Lieutenant Pommel?”

“Also fine. Significantly poorer after I process this, but he could stand to lose his recreation budget for a while anyway. Thank you for asking, er…”

“Steadfast, sir.”

“Thank you, Private Steadfast,” Night Light saluted her. “You’re dismissed.”

Steadfast returned the salute, and Night Light dug into his desk in search of a quill to begin processing Pommel’s citation, but when he found one and glanced up again, the mare was still standing at attention in front of his desk.

“Was there something else, Private?”

“…Sir? …Is it always like this?”

It was her expression that did it. The words already stung far deeper than they had any right to by themselves, traced with dejection and disbelief, and worst of all, disappointment.

But when Night Light saw all that and more in the mare’s eyes, it broke something inside him. She really was a fresh-faced rookie. Probably right out of training. That could have very well been her first night on patrol. He remembered how he had felt himself at the time, full of boyish enthusiasm, ready to serve his country and his Princess, to really make a difference. He saw all that in her eyes, now that he really looked. But it was darkened now. Diminished. As if some of her reverence for her noble calling had been lost. And really, when he thought about it, how could Night Light blame her? Her first exposure to the job was to happen upon a couple of her superior officers stumbling drunk out of a bar that may or may not have been full of ponies exhibiting themselves, carrying blacked out mares on their backs, relieving themselves on public property, covering for one another’s buck-ups and finally sneaking into work the next morning two hours late without getting even a word of reprimand. This was what he was telling the poor mare to expect. This was what he was showing her was in store for her future. This was the example he was setting.

Him.

Night Light.

The Captain of the Royal Guard.

Dear Celestia, what was wrong with him?

“…No, Steadfast, it’s not,” Night Light finally answered. “You have my word. This will never happen again.”