//------------------------------// // Chapter 17 // Story: Only One Speck of Dust // by TheMareWhoSaysNi //------------------------------// On this day, the weather patrol had been asked to clear the sky. The warmth of spring was everywhere. The trees were blooming again; foals were playing outside without a coat or a cloak. They all knew it would be too short. It was always too short. Yet there was no pony not making the most of it. Applejack had woken up at dawn in order to keep Rainbow Dash company. It was a great day for her, a day where she would be the center of all attentions. Anxious, her friend who usually liked the praises to her glory had hid her nerves in a rather unfamiliar way. She had remained silent. It had to be said that, just a few days ago, she had been crying, her cries of distress tearing the quietude of the family’s apartments apart. Spitfire had been the only one able to find the good words that had convinced her. The Sacrament Ritual was long and very codified. The Head about to be established had to have a light breakfast, where white, brown and red food was forbidden, then had to take a long bath in reindeer milk, supposed to clean the body off past sins. After this, his or her mane had to be washed with a mix of eggs, honey and mint and brushed eleven times – the eleven figure meaning the ideal strength – and finally, to be braided. Once this first step over, the Head chosen by the former leader and approved by the Greater Council had to appear in front of her Fighting Master who gave him or her a silky black cloak and broke glasses all around the pony. That was when the fundamental step had to be done. In the presence of all the Members of the Militia, who had to bow down as a sign of obedience, the Head climbed on a raised platform where the Greater Council’s Dean made him or her say the oath, oath which always ended the same way. The Dean took the Head’s left hoof and with the own sword of the new leader, made some large gash right under it. A white silky piece of fabric was wrapped around the wound, and plasters as well as disinfectant were forbidden. Applejack had stood by Rainbow Dash’s sides at each step of the Ritual. Though her friend had not said a word until they both were back home, she had seen in her eyes, many times, how much she had been glad of her support. The next day, Rainbow Dash had chosen her Council among the First Class Lieutenants and the Members of the former Council. Applejack and Caramel, as well as Big Macintosh – yet pardoned by Princess Celestia a bit earlier – had been obvious choices. She had been hesitant about the fifth member. She needed a pony whom she could trust, somepony who would not turn his back on her under the excuse that no mare before had ever been chosen as Head of the Militia. Open Skies willingly offered himself to be this fifth member. He had appeared in front of the Royal Tavern and Inn’s gates, and had swear to pledge allegiance to Rainbow Dash, whom he thought to be a legitimate choice since this had been Time Stellar’s decision and Time Stellar was one of his closest friends. The first phase had been difficult. She had to fire many Members, to recruit others that often were younger and had less experience. With those departures, it had not been her ability to be a leader that had been challenged. The main reason of their leavings really was that she was not a stallion, even though Equestria was known as a predominant female population. And, little by little, things had got back to normal. Members quickly understood that Rainbow Dash was not sensible Time Stellar. She was cruder, and tougher too. Ponyville’s Militia’s reputation had not to weaken, but conversely to stay at the same level than the royal guard, which meant the Cavalry. In fact, the almost military-like discipline Rainbow Dash imposed during training times was a direct consequence of her semester spent at the Academy. One year later, Surprise had come to warn Applejack that a pink mare was looking for her and her brother, and wanted to contend with them. According to the Spotter’s words, she was “completely enraged”. And the least one could say that this first meeting had been singular. Her mane flat, neurosis written in her blue eyes, the mare who had pounced on her when she had accepted the confrontation could have eaten her alive if Applejack had not resisted with so much strength. Of course, the whole Council had shown up and the sight of Big Macintosh had only increased the opponent’s rage. She had said she was from Appleloosa and wanted to get a revenge on those who had destroyed her orphanage created by Applejack and Big Macintosh’s father, Longreen Woodrow, which the gathered children had been abandoned and had fell into delinquency and prostitution. The story had not said how Pinkamena Diane Pie, aka Pinkie Pie, had survived alone with no family and no means. This part of her personal journey still remained a mystery even for her closest friends. Rainbow Dash had to take action and to explain the truth. Longreen Woodrow had not selfishly given up on the orphanage management in favor of his own family. He was dead and had been even before Applejack’s birth. Subsequently, Pinkie Pie turned back into Pinkie Pie, and the Head of the Militia had decided that with such tendencies maybe dangerous yet indeed ruthless, she was the best qualified to watch over the Royal Tavern and Inn, which was the prey of many robberies back then. In exchange, she had acquired a place as a soul little sister within the blended family. A snow storm had burst. It stated the beginning of the Ceaseless Night for the next sixth months to come. No pony would be out with such a weather, not even the worst of louts. The Militia had to make sure that everyone was protected from the storm, that none would be exposed to gusts and collapsing risks. They had to be cautious and swift before going under a shelter as well. That was the reason why the pegasi were the only ones able to achieve such a perilous mission. Rainbow Dash had arrived in her family’s apartments with an Open Skies at death’s door. He had been trying to help a seemingly defenseless stallion, but the latter had been fooling him. A second pony, hiding in a nearby lane, had been driving an arrow inside his Cutie Mark and the other had been taking an advantage of it to steal his sword before harming him too, this time in the chest. They both had abandoned his body in the snow. For hours on end, all had got down to try to save him with what they had in hand. Applejack, based on her few notions of medicine due to her Master of Rituals position, had been the most committed one, assisted of Rainbow Dash. The hemorrhage had won. A few hours later, they had to face reality. Open Skies was dead. Once again, because she was Militia’s Master of Rituals, besides being Second-in-Command, Applejack had to take care of the Sacred Procedures, then of the Renunciation Ceremony in the Great Weaver’s official temple. At that moment, she remembered she had prayed the Spider Gods during whole nights for the Head’s Council never to go through such a tragedy again. Time Stellar’s death had not been so long ago. Open Skies’ death had undermined the troop morale. Under no kind of pretext such a destiny had to touch them again. Her prayers had not been granted for a long while. Double Diamond had succumbed after he had been tortured for days and nights. And now, who could say where were the others, her soul family? Maybe they all were as dead as Longreen, Time Stellar, Open Skies and Double Diamond. She would never stand it. A sensation of scald made Applejack open her eyes. She was lying in the snow, but a red cloak was between her and the ground. A part of her body was exposed to the cold while the other was covered by the coat she had stolen to Rarity. She looked straight in front of her. It was the back alley where she had let it go. Once again, she felt the scald at her hind hooves and could not suppress a spasm. “Sorry, AJ”, Caramel tried to comfort her. “I do my best for it not to hurt, but I have to heal the wound.” With difficulty, Applejack turned around. Her coltfriend had taken off his cloak and spread on the ground the contents of the first-aid kit that she permanently wore. She thought she had lost it during the fight… Caramel had probably got it back. Unless this one was not hers. “Are… Are ya okay?”, she asked, unable to distinguish whether or not he was injured. “I am. Big Macintosh too. You’re lucky I remembered this so-called message had asked you to come to the White.” Each time he was done putting disinfectant on a wound, Caramel covered it with a dressing. It was only a temporary solution before the medicine mares he had called would take charge of her. She had lost a lot of blood and although the wounds were not life-threatening, they were abundant. First, he had seen the blood traces in the snow, snow which had been cleared up on inches and inches, as if some tornado had snatched it away from the ground. Scraps of fabric and the pattern of another body that might have been lying here for a long time. Undoubtedly it was the pony against whom Applejack had to fight. Then, all he had to do was to follow the drops of hemoglobin she had scattered behind her. When he had seen her lying in the snow, with her hat at a few inches from her, Caramel had first dashed toward her to check whether or not she was alive. Reassured seeing she was still breathing, he then had to go backward to look for Applejack’s first-aid kit. It had almost entirely been covered by snow yet the contents had not been sabotaged. Caramel had just put down the last dressing when he suddenly saw his marefriend startling, lifting up her face so she would see his eyes. Her green irises sparkled like the surface of a lake. “Rainbow Dash… You haven’t told me how was Rainbow Dash.” Caramel sighed, tidying the necessary he had used inside the first-aid kit. “I don’t know how she is. She’s gone looking for you, and Big Mac and I sent Soarin to ensure her security. I haven’t heard about her or him ever since.” A gnawing anxiety started to coil Applejack’s heart. It was wrong. She understood why Caramel had wanted to save her first. However, she was thinking her own wounds should not be an excuse to give up on those whom they did not know where they were now. She tried to stand back up on her hooves, aware that she did not even have enough energy to support her own head for more than a few seconds. As predicted, she was unable to stand back up. Fine. If her body was stubborn, it was going to see her true colors. Stubborn was her middle name. Despite Caramel’s worried warnings, she tried again until a famous sound made her stop. A pony was hitting a message against a wall in a nearby house. *Help need. STOP. Male pegasus seriously injured. STOP. Female pegasus passed out. STOP. Very urgent. STOP. * The signal was close, very close. In fact, there were only two or three houses that separated them. ------------------------------------------------------ How good it felt to be pampered in the comfort of prohibitively expensive sheets. If that was what she got each time she fought against a competition mare, then Rarity was ready to do it all over again immediately. As long as ‘immediately’ did not stand for ‘tomorrow’. Or even for ‘next week’. She did not know who had brought her home and honestly, it was not very important. All that mattered was that she was home. Dressed in silky pajamas. In the warm thanks to the open fire crackling at the back of the bedroom. With a hot berry tea cup within easy reach. This was more or less the equivalent of the Cloth on Equestria for the young unicorn. Within a few hours, she would be feeling better. Still a little bashed up, but ready to get on with her existence. There were chances for the True King to send her on a mission again yet Rarity hoped he would let her breathe between two heroic attacks. Though the Unavowed Army was blessed with more experimented fighters than herself, Prince Blueblood had chosen her to be his Main Servant. Servant, in this “organization” had nothing in common with those earth ponies bringing breakfast in her bed. It meant something close to ‘soldier’ but much more elegant. And of course, this suited best Rarity’s sophisticated nature. As the Main Servant, she was the one setting up the sharing out of assignments. The Prince had trusted her for what were the secondary recruits, but for Rainbow Dash and her Second-in-Command, he had been the only one to choose. They had seen what this strategy had produced. The pegasus he had chosen to confront with the Head and to give him details about how she fought was dead even before arriving to the closest free clinic. And she ended up bed-ridden, shivering with cold because she had been abandoned in the snow without her coat. If she was so devoted to him, it was not because she had faith in his abilities to be a good king. To be honest, she could clearly understand why his parents, King Sunset Sunrise and Queen Harmony, did not chose him to be their heir. He was too much… too much. Able to demand the imprisonment of a pony whom had dirtied him with a glass of cider and at the same time to get covered with blood of another for the simple pleasure to hurt and harm. She should have abominated him. Cruelty was no part of her genetic code or the habit to treat all the others as inferiors. Yet she could not hate him. From the moment when the family who secretly received him – friends of her own parents who always been against the enthronement of the two sisters – had introduced her to this gorgeous stallion with an immaculate coat and cyan eyes, it had been stronger than everything, stronger than herself. An immediate passion that even years or vexations had not altered. Theoretically. Flattered, Rarity had not hesitated at all when the Prince had summoned her and asked her to gather an army of warriors likely to follow him. It did not matter whether they were irreproachable or not, as long as they were ready to fight against the Militia. To attack the Cavalry directly was not enough a subtle tactic. It even was suicidal. On the other hand, to lash out at the final hurdle of the royal guard, this famous Ponyville Militia, the Last Shield, was a much more intelligent way of turning the situation to advantage. All he had to do was to lean upon their stupid archaic laws. If too many Members of the Militia died and the whole Council with it, the Princesses would have no other choice than to send the Cavalry as backup since the Council was the only one able to call the reservists in case of accident, and not the sovereigns. And then, the Prince would make the most of it to get back on his throne. It was a plan that had chance of success. For that purpose, they had to think about each attacks in a serene manner. They had not to rush. To weaken the stands effortlessly. To play with oppositions, with the fact that many were ready to change sides for a handle of bits or for the promise of a bit of power. It was what had made the Fratricide War last so long, what had made this war to leave a strong mark on Equestria. Treason, double dealings. Bitterness. Jealousy. What a perfect irony that the Head of the Militia precisely was the niece and the daughter of the two ponies at the heart of the said-war. A few knocks resounded at her bedroom’s huge door, and one of the house valet appeared on her threshold. “Miss Rarity, Prince Blueblood wants to get a private audience with you. I’ve told him you were tired, but…” “Come on, Favor Still, he is the True King. You cannot send him away. Tell him I am expecting him.” Suddenly refreshed, Rarity used her magic in order to open the drawer of her bedside table, pulling out a mirror to check her global state. Her mane clean again, properly silky and curled, checked. Her coat bathed, perfumed with cyclamen, checked. If there had not been these dressings and bandages, especially the one she had got under her eye because of that damn farmer mare, everything would have been perfect. As soon as she heard the sound of his hooves in the corridor, she lied between her sheets in a dramatic pause, one hoof wisely put above her forehead. “My King… I’m terribly sorry you would see me in such a pitiful state”, she said with a theatrical voice once he stepped into her room, unceremoniously. Result of the process? Not a word of consideration. Not a word of regard. Nothing. He probably had understood she was only putting on an act. Of course, her wounds had been enough to make her lose consciousness, yet with the best mare physicians and the best treatments she had the chance to have within her reach, this all would heal with much more ease than if she would have been one of those factories’ employees with threadbare cloaks. Shivers went through her, and at the same time she thought about her gorgeous white coat that she had worn for the first time at the occasion of this dual, her who had refused to put on the cloaks given by the Prince that she thought were too basic and sloven for a unicorn of her rank. And to think that it was that Applejack of ill omen who had it now. Even if she made it mend by her mother, who obviously was in charge of the “thing” the Militia had on their backs and called cloaks, she would never be able to restore the perfection Rarity had imagined and sewn from her white hooves. “I came here to congratulate you.” The compliment caught her off-guard. She had not expected that, in view of thrashing that some of them – with herself in the count – had been inflicted on the previous night. Without further ado, she lowered her head as a sign of respect, giving up her actress from the Royal Troop manners to transform back into his devoted Main Servant. “I do not deserve your leniency, my King.” “Conversely. I am more than satisfied. You perfectly completed your mission. Today I know where I stand. For example, I know it takes more than a big sword to defeat the Black Blood. I know the two minions are not that bad. And I know that this uncouth Second-in-Command who had dared to bed-rid my precious Main Servant deserves a punishment equal to her sin.” Hearing this reply, Rarity dared to look up. She realized then he was sitting right beside her on her bed, staring at her insistently. There was something in his eyes that sent new chills down her spine. Delightful new chills. “My King”, she stammered. “I do not deserve such a respect.” “You don’t. You deserve even more than respect… Rarity.” It was the first time he said her name since they had met. She saw him putting a hoof under her chin, and she froze. What was happening could not be happening. She probably was in the middle of a delirium. Yet, when she took a quick glimpse around her, she knew it was her bedroom and nothing showed she was rambling. Spacious, with its gorgeous white canopy bed encrusted with tiny sapphires and supplied with purple mosquito nets elegantly hanging at each side of the structure. Its vintage tapestry made of silk and velvet. Its sophisticated fireplace, its gold and marble dressing table, its soft mauve carpeting, and this gigantic painting of herself wearing a ball gown for her passage at the equine adulthood. Undoubtedly, everything was real and she was not dreaming. Her precious Sovereign’s face was only a few inches away from hers. Despite her pondering heart and the warmth invading her body, Rarity could not help but think about a little detail… a detail of importance. “What about your Suitor, my King?” “Come on, Rarity, my dear. She is my fiancée by duty. I have to admit she would make a perfect queen for me, but I already have made my choice when it comes to my feelings.” For now, it was enough. There was no way she could hold back anymore the devouring passion which consume all of her thoughts. The best was to let it flood freely, such as waters of a river pouring out into the sea. She would see what would happen next. She had his heart. It was all that she ever wanted to hear him say. Blueblood knew it. For this reason, he did not wait before taking her between his hooves with authoritativeness, putting his lips against hers, demanding even in his ardor. Appearances had the advantage of being in his favor. As smart as she could be, Rarity still was a ‘female’ and the latter were always likely to get fooled by feelings, according to himself. She was not an exception. He never ignored the feelings she had developed toward him. He even had let them grow, wrapping around like wild climbing roses, because it served his cause. In this way, her complete devotion was insured. And it did not matter that he had no intention of returning this devotion the way she hoped he would. What could he do about it, after all, if she was too stupid not to get tricked?