Following Dusk’s surprising announcement, I had him placed in custody within the same guardhouse I had used for my conversation with Gale. Much as I wished to believe that his defection was genuine, I had suffered too many recent disappointments to accept his words at face value. Honorable or not, he was the Avatar’s son. The bonds of family can make ponies forget many principles that would normally be unbreakable.
I immediately dispatched White to retrieve Sunbeam, who would surely have her own questions for Dusk. While we waited for her arrival I took Gale aside. “Thou knowest him far better than I after spending a month and more in his company. Tell me, child, dost thou think that his offer is genuine?”
Gale frowned, her eyes flicking back to Dusk’s temporary quarters. “I could not say for certain. He made no secret of his discontent with the rebels’ conduct or the Avatar’s takeover of the war effort, but there is a great difference ‘tween displeasure and defection. And one would think that Rightly’s return would have done much to salve his worries. An end to Swift and the warlocks is no small thing.” Her countenance darkened as she continued. “Moreso Swift, if I am honest. He seemed willing enough to tolerate the warlocks, e’en if he did not care for them. It was Swift he truly hated—Dusk e’en contemplated making common cause with the warlock leader to do away with him.”
“Then why would he change sides within a day of Swift’s removal?” I asked.
Gale shrugged. “I could not say. He did not tell me of his intentions before we arrived here. Though in hindsight...” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “A few of his remarks are cast in a new light. After his return from the war council he was most displeased that the war would not end and melancholic o’er the death of Sierra Doo.” Her countenance fell. “A fine mare, and a good friend to him. Myself as well, as much as our stations and positions allowed. ‘Twas she who warned him of Swift’s foul intentions.” She glanced towards the guardhouse once more, her eyes and voice softening. “It may be that he has simply broken. The loss of two siblings, his mother, and now his dearest friend ... ‘tis too much. Too many losses in too little time, and now he would do anything just to put an end to it. Would that there was some way I—” she grimaced and slashed a hoof through the air, cutting herself off.
“Thou wouldst salve his pain?” I concluded. ‘Twas not so difficult to guess, given her plainly evident fondness for Dusk. She would not be the first mare who felt compelled to heal a wounded heart.
“Only because ‘tis so pathetic that e’en I cannot help but pity him,” Gale answered, a touch of her usual bravado returning to her voice. Having once more established her curious position, she returned to a more contemplative tone. “But ... yes, I do believe it could be a genuine defection. At least, I see no reason to immediately doubt him. If naught else, he is far too stupid to lie so convincingly and too cowardly to dare such a bold plot.”
I nodded gravely, ignoring her jests. “As always, I thank thee for thy counsel.” Though Gale was far too close to Dusk to see clearly, her opinion was valuable nonetheless. If nothing else, it spoke well of him that he had managed to win her heart, especially when she had every reason to hate him due to mine apparent death and her own captivity. (1)
1: I can’t help but wonder if there’s a bit of Stable Syndrome involved with this romance between Dusk and Gale. Since they had some sort of odd relationship before her captivity, it’s a bit of an unusual example, not to mention how it continued well after she gained her freedom. Regardless, it’s apparently something that worked out pretty well for them, so I won’t judge.
“I think we can trust him at his word,” Gale confirmed once more. “Though I could spend days listing all his flaws, I do not believe a willingness to betray us would be on that list.”
Whether others would agree with my child’s assessment remained to be seen. The clank of armored hooves on stone announced Sunbeam’s arrival ere I saw the mare herself. It seemed she had acquired a retinue of guards, likely on account of how close we were to the front. Or mayhaps simply because having several battle mages accompanying her inflated her own sense of importance and made her seem grander.
Sunbeam herself stood before me shortly, and I noted that she was once more wearing mail beneath her robes. Mayhaps I should have moved Dusk further into the city, but I was less than certain what I should do with him. Returning him to his cell would seem unfitting after he announced his intent to defect, but I was not yet ready to allow him freedom either.
It seemed that Sunbeam was of much the same opinion. “The Avatar’s son wishes to join us? Either we have been given a golden opportunity or we are being played for fools. Which dost thou think it is, Shadow?”
“I have yet to decide,” I murmured, “though Gale believes it is the first. She would know him far better than I.”
“That she would.” The Archmagus turned to my daughter, smiling politely. “Gale, ‘tis good to see thee alive and well. I am sure my daughter would ne’er forgive me if I did not ask thee to visit her in my tower as soon as possible, but might I have a moment of thy time first?” She stepped forward, her horn glowing.
I frowned, instinctively taking a step forward to place myself ‘tween the two of them. “What is thine intention, Sunbeam?”
“She has been a captive of the enemy for some time, and the Avatar is most ruthless,” she answered, her tone gentle and carefully even. “I would not put it past her to attempt to warp Gale’s mind. ‘Tis possible she e’en asked Dusk to go through with a false defection so all our suspicions would fall upon him and we would not think to worry o’er Gale. Such mental manipulation leaves behind clear signs, which I would like to search for.”
I was uncertain how to respond, allowing Gale to answer first. “Though my mind is mine own, I think it ... reasonable to confirm as much.” She sighed, shaking her head. “If the Avatar has twisted my thoughts, then surely she would also twist them in such a way that I was unaware of what she had done.”
“So be it,” I grunted out, stepping aside but keeping a wary eye on Sunbeam. Though I had grown to trust her far more than I had e’er believed possible, there are few things more precious to a parent than their child’s safety.
It seemed that Sunbeam understood my concerns, for she turned a reassuring smile upon me. “Fear not, Shadow. I would not harm thy child.” She stepped forward, briefly touching her horn to Gale’s brow. After several tense seconds, Sunbeam opened her eyes and nodded. “All is well. Now, let us see to Dusk. Gale, if thy mother does not have need of thee, I would ask that thou dost report to my tower at once.” A faintly amused smirk crossed her lips. “If I return there ere my daughter sees thee, she will become most ... willful.”
“That would not do at all,” Gale agreed with a wry smirk. “If you do not object, Mother?”
“I do not,” I assured her with a faint grin. “If I kept thee from her side, ‘twould be I who suffered Midnight’s displeasure. Doubtless she would find her way to my quarters in the wee hours of the morning once more, endlessly asking why I would seek to deny her the pleasure of thy company.”
“Ah, so it seems the health and happiness of both the Archmagus of Canterlot and the materfamilias of my clan rests upon me seeing Midnight at once,” Gale concluded with a grave nod, only the barest trace of wry humor in her voice. “Then I shall waste no more time, for clearly this is a grave and urgent matter. I only ask that I be consulted ere any radical decision regarding Dusk is made.”
“But of course,” I chuckled softly. “I am sure if we decided to execute him, thou wouldst be most upset if we did not allow thee to strike the killing blow.”
“Just so,” my child agreed, turning and departing.
Sunbeam stared after her. “Curious. Dusk claimed he protected her, yet it seems she despises him. Rather ungrateful, I should think.”
“Not at all.” I could not help but savor the moment as I informed Sunbeam, “My daughter is quite madly in love with him.”
She stared at me for some time, blinking repeatedly. “I ... see. If this is the norm for how pegasi conduct their courtships, I shall have to reconsider e’er propositioning thee again.”
I could not help but grin as I saw the chance to amuse myself at her expense. “Ah, so that is all ‘twould have taken to dissuade thee. If only I had known it sooner...”
Sunbeam sighed and shook her head. “Ah, so that is the way of it if then.” She rolled her eyes to the heavens, or at least the cavern ceiling, in a way that reminded me of her daughter when young Midnight was in a particularly dramatic mood. “I know ‘tis often said that great mares are ne’er appreciated in their own time, but only now do I realize just how true that is.”
“I am sure thou wilt survive thy disappointment,” I countered dryly. “Now, if thou art quite done wallowing in self-pity, mayhaps we should return our attention to the war?”
“Aye, aye,” Sunbeam groused. “Let us see what we can make of Dusk Charger.”
The Archmagus and I strode towards the guardhouse. Inside, we found Dusk lounging in his seat and slumped down upon the table, but upon our arrival he quickly rearranged himself to look somewhat presentable. “Archmagus, materfamilias. A pleasure to see you both.” He offered us the sort of charming smile that had no doubt won my daughter’s heart.
Unfortunately for him, Sunbeam and I were both old enough to not be so easily won o’er by the looks of a handsome young stallion. While I simply ignored his attempt to charm us, Sunbeam took a far more direct route. She settled into a seat across the table from him, answering with a smile that resembled that of a wolf which had stumbled upon a particularly enticing morsel. “But of course it is. Now, whether the feeling is mutual will depend on a great many things.” She steepled her hooves in front of her face, hiding the grin upon her lips. “I have heard quite the tale from Shadow—one involving thy wish to defect to our side.”
Dusk took a deep breath, then slowly nodded. “That is indeed so, Archmagus. I am ... tired of this war. Of seeing good ponies die for nothing.”
“And how does joining us allay this?” Sunbeam demanded, leaning forward and locking eyes with him. “The conflict will continue regardless of which side thou wouldst fight for. All that will change is who thou art required to slay. Unless it is thine intention to sit out the rest of the war as our prisoner—a finely treated hostage who will no longer have to face the hardships of battle.”
“Not a prisoner,” Dusk immediately answered. “I cannot stand aside and do nothing as this madness continues. I would be your ally.”
“He could be useful to our plans,” I murmured to Sunbeam. “We do need ponies for our new Ephorate, and he is quite qualified.”
“So he is,” Sunbeam agreed, “but the question remains whether he is the right pony for that. ” Her eyes shifted back to the young Charger, but her attention was still upon me. “He says he tires of war, death, and suffering, but those things will not end merely because he joins us. Indeed, he will have to turn his hoof 'gainst his own pegasi, his very kin. A pain, I am sure, thou art all too familiar with.”
“It is not an easy thing to do,” I agreed, trying not to think of the cruel fate that had befallen my father. Was Dusk truly prepared to face such a thing?
He must have guessed at the topic of our discussion, not that doing so would have been terribly hard under the circumstances. “My dear lady, I will fight pegasi regardless of which side I am on. I find the prospect of crossing blades with Gale no more pleasant than facing any of my former allies. If I must—”
“But they are not just thine allies,” Sunbeam cut in. “Thou wilt also be turning against thine own clan and family. Art thou prepared to face them in battle? Couldst thou fight with all thy heart and strength against thine own mother, or thy siblings?”
Dusk sighed, his shoulders slumping and a weary tone entering his voice. “I would take it as a kindness if you avoided placing me against them. In truth, part of why I have come here is for my mother's sake. She is ... unwell.”
“Unwell?” I asked, wondering if mayhaps I had wounded her more significantly than I knew during our clash.
Dusk sighed, slouching further down as though all the life had left him. “Something of the transformation wrought upon her by the Nightmare has ... damaged her. Damage I fear she will not survive.” A quiet, broken desperation entered his voice. “I ... I have lost too much already. I cannot stand to see any more of my family die.”
Grim news indeed. The Avatar would not go gently into the night—if the rage I had seen in her during our battle was any indication, she would hurl herself against our defenses e’en more fiercely and abandon any sense of self-preservation. She would not fear death near so much as she would fear failing to avenge her slain children.
Sunbeam was silent for some time, frowning in thought. At length, she finally answered him. “I suspected this might be the case with her. As a vessel, thy mother is ill-suited to bear the power of Nightmare Moon. 'Tis like trying to build a furnace out of wood—the material is not suited to endure the heat and power of the flame, and in time will be consumed by it.” She grimaced and shook her head. “I will speak plainly; thy mother's time is but sand in the hourglass now. There is a reason why such rituals as the warlocks performed are shunned by true magi. Attempting to use magic to transform oneself into a higher state of being is an incredibly dangerous process, and attempting to create an alicorn is e’en moreso. Every False Alicorn e’er created has either died swiftly and painfully, or suffered an e’en worse fate.”
“But surely if anypony could save her life, it would be Celestia!” Dusk cried out. “There must be some hope for her!”
“And would your mother, under the influence of Nightmare Moon, ask for such assistance or even allow it?” Sunbeam demanded. “I think we both know she would not. It is exceedingly difficult to save one who does not wish to be saved.”
Dusk glanced to side, unable to meet our eyes for some time. “I know I might be forced to do much in order to rescue her. I have already shifted mine allegiance, and I suspect ere this day is done you will ask me to betray her more openly. Mayhaps e’en return to the rebel camp and lead her into an ambush. A part of me recoils at the mere thought of it, but...” He sighed and shook his head. “Would my mother do any less to save my life? I think not.”
Sunbeam frowned skeptically. “Everypony has said that despite her trucebreaking, Bright was a good and honorable mare ere she became the Avatar. If that is indeed true, then I am sure she would have gone to great lengths for her children.” She met Dusk’s eyes in an uncompromising glower. “Howe’er, thou must understand that now she is as much the Nightmare as she is thy mother. An exorcism of that magnitude is not an easy feat; if it can be done at all, 'tis best done with significant preparation and multiple experienced magi. And that is when the pony is being possessed against her will, and usually by a spectre or demon of no more than middling strength. Nightmare Moon is, for all intents and purposes, a demigod in power, and Bright appears to have accepted her willingly.”
Dusk grimaced, his eyes falling. “I know 'twill not be an easy task, but surely there must be some way she can be saved.”
I shot a pointed look at the Archmagus, trying to silently convey a warning. Dusk’s defection to our cause seemed born of his desperation to save his mother—‘twould be unwise to steal all hope away from him.
Sunbeam must have understood my meaning, for she let out a soft, faintly annoyed huff and adopted a gentler tone. “Though the situation is grim, it is not hopeless; the Avatar is but a shadow of Nightmare Moon herself.” Her annoyance faded as an almost eager light emerged in her eyes. “Queen Celestia would be her match and more if she fully committed herself to the fight. She would stand the best chance of defeating thy mother without killing her. If thy mother were taken prisoner, then we would have time to examine her and see what could be done. Certainly mine own skills are nothing to trifle with, not to speak of what Her Majesty is capable of, as well as the score of experienced magi I can call upon. And we have many powerful tools in Canterlot for tasks such as these.”
I added mine own words of reassurance. “I matched her in single combat. With support...”
Dusk glanced ‘tween the two of us, hope replacing despair on his face. “So ... there is hope?”
“While I will not promise anything, there is certainly a chance,” Sunbeam answered carefully. “And if 'twould bring this war to a peaceful conclusion, all the better.”
“A chance.” He sighed and shook his head. “I suppose that shall have to be enough. Better a chance to save her than no hope at all.”
I saw a chance to secure his loyalty. “We will require thy full cooperation. Every day wasted will make the damage done to thy mother all the worse.”
Dusk grasped my meaning easily enough. “You will have it.”
Sunbeam cut straight to the heart of the matter. “What do the Avatar and Rightly plan? No doubt their strategy has changed now that Swift is gone and Rightly has returned to command.” She shot an annoyed glare in my direction, then returned her attention to Dusk. “We cannot help your mother until we remove her from the rebel army. You will help us do so.”
Dusk sighed and nodded, slowly running a hoof through his mane. “As I said, they intend to strike soon. I am afraid I can offer no more than that—at the time I left they had not settled upon a strategy, nor do I think they will do so for some time yet. Rightly is still assessing the state of his own forces and yours ere he commits to any plan.”
Sunbeam grimaced. “‘Twould seem thou chose a rather poor time to defect. Mayhaps we should return thee to thy mother’s camp until thou canst bring us something useful.”
Dusk’s eyes grew wide as he grasped her meaning. “You intend to send me back, then? I ... I do not think that would be safe. The Avatar’s insight is keen, and I do not think I could act as a spy for long. There will already be questions about why I have lingered so long amongst you after returning Gale. If the Nightmare truly rules her, then she will show me no mercy just because I am Bright Charger’s son.”
“Then mayhaps thou shouldst have contacted us through more subtle means, that we might have gained some value from thee,” Sunbeam cut in acidly.
Dusk inclined his head in a mocking bow. “I hope you will forgive me for not perfectly anticipating your desires, Archmagus. I confess I am less than experienced in defection. If I make a habit of it, I shall learn to do it properly.”
“Already planning to change sides again?” Sunbeam asked with a smirk. “I suppose that is to be expected. Thou art already twice a traitor—first for joining the rebellion and now for turning against it.”
Dusk’s teeth clenched. “I am not a traitor. My loyalty has always been to Pegasopolis. When I became a soldier, I swore mine oaths to the Pegasopolan state, not Celestia. I owed her no loyalty save that which Pegasopolis itself granted her, and she abandoned us long before we stripped her of her title. And now...” The fire left Dusk’s eyes, his entire body slumping in weary resignation. “Now it seems that in order to save Pegasopolis, I must stand against the corruption that has wormed its way into the heart of my home.”
“A feeling I know all too well,” I murmured softly. “It is why I stand with Commander Celestia, and against the Ephorate. The ideals of Pegasopolis have warped into a twisted parody of what they once were. Thou dost say that Rightly will continue the war because to make peace would dishonor those who have already given their lives? I would think that the best way to honor the fallen would be to ensure that no more join them.”
Dusk nodded, slowly and wearily. “Indeed so. I have already buried too many who were dear to me. Lance, Thunder ... Sierra. And I fear my mother shall join them, despite all mine efforts to prevent it. I simply ... wish for it to end. I no longer e’en care how the war ends, so long as it is over. Nothing we stand to win in this war would justify what I have lost in it.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Honor. Independence. Legitimacy. They are naught but words. I would much rather have my sister, my brother, or my friend than any of those things.”
I struggled to find an answer for him. I had lost family to the war as well, and yet ... terrible as it may seem, it had not shaken my resolve. Where I had pressed on despite my father’s passing, it seemed that Dusk had broken. He had simply lost too much.
It seemed Sunbeam had reached the same conclusion as I, and further surmised that Dusk would be of no use to us if he gave in to despair. “There is still hope. If Her Majesty were persuaded to take action to restore thy mother to her right mind, that could make all the difference. So far she been hesitant to take the field, but how could she resist thy request? A child’s petition to save his mother is a powerful thing.”
I could see what Sunbeam hoped would come of this. Commander Celestia had finally begun to shake off the torpor that seemed to have held her e’er since the war began. If Dusk’s request could further that, she would be one step closer to joining us on the battlefield. If ‘twere successful, it would be a great boon to our forces.
Sunbeam tapped her chin, a smile growing on her lips. “Shadow, I think ‘twould be wise of us to hold something of an event to welcome thy daughter’s return and Dusk’s loyalty to our ranks. Nothing too grand, but mayhaps a small banquet with Her Majesty? I think I will also allow Midnight to join us for the occasion. No doubt she will become rather quarrelsome if I do not allow her some opportunities to leave the tower.”
I stepped nearer to her, dropping my voice to a careful whisper. “Art thou certain that is wise?”
“I think it very wise indeed.” Sunbeam answered with a smirk. “Imagine how enraged the Nightmare will be when she sees her children being welcomed so grandly into our ranks. Her temper burns hot, and with the right spark it might well ignite and drive her to foolish action.”
Ah, so that was her intent. Exploit the connection ‘tween Midnight and the Avatar in the hopes of driving her to distraction. One that might well succeed, given how deeply Bright seemed to care for her children. And if ‘twere the Nightmare that held sway o’er the Avatar instead, it would still cause her no small amount of consternation.
“A formal dinner?” Dusk glanced down at himself. “I do hope you can provide me with a decent bath and some fresh clothing. Alas, I had to leave quite a few of my possessions behind. Entering Canterlot with a satchel full of clothing, brushes, and other small luxuries might well have given away mine intentions, but I would hate to look like an unwashed barbarian before all of Canterlot. I admit, I am rather curious to meet your daughter as well, Archmagus. Gale spoke quite fondly of her.”
Sunbeam turned to him with a cold smile. “Then I shall ensure thou hast ample opportunity to make her acquaintance.”
Though I would have preferred to spend mine every waking moment with Gale, there were other matters that demanded mine attention. Howe’er welcome it was, my daughter’s return did not free me from mine other responsibilities. Thus, while Gale availed herself of the palace’s bathhouse, I met with Magus Morning Star.
Copper’s widow escorted me down a large workshop, where dozens of apprentice magi, at best a few years older than Midnight, crouched over small tables covered in gemstones. Many of the young unicorns looked ill-used, their robes and hair disheveled and unwashed. The room held the unique stench that accompanies a large mass of bodies forced into confined quarters for an extended period of time.
Morning grimaced at the sight of them, sighing softly. “Would that we could give them more time to rest, but with all our fully trained magi and e’en many of the older apprentices at the front we need their services all the more.”
“They are not the only ones to make sacrifices for the war effort,” I murmured softly. “Commend them for their hard work.”
“I shall.” She sighed softly. “But I did not ask you here merely to show you how they toiled. While our apprentices continue to enchant gems as quickly as they can, they cannot work upon we do not have. We have already dug deep into the emergency supplies that have not been opened for the better part of a century, and we are now using gems that would normally be discarded as unsuitable for enchantment.” She shook her head, staring out o’er the mass of toiling young workers. “I am sorry to say that our stores were never intended for an o’erly long siege. We did not have long to gather the gems we desired when the war began, and our efforts to gather what gems we could were greatly hampered due to the chaos that was tearing the earth ponies apart. Not to mention...”
“The mines within Canterlot itself are unusable with our armies gallivanting about within them,” I surmised. “And we conscripted most of the city’s miners for military service.”
“Aye, though e’en if we had the miners to spare I would dare not risk mining during times like these. If we were to open a passage the rebels could exploit, or cause a collapse that would bury our troops.” Her shoulders slumped wearily. “I have asked that our soldiers look for any gems that might have been uncovered by our engineers, but that is unlikely to bolster our stocks in any meaningful way.”
I could not imagine we would be lucky enough to stumble across hundreds of fresh gems so easily, and e’en if we did it would still require the services of miners to free them from the rocks and gemcutters to render them suitable for enchanting. Gaining a useful number of gems would likely require pulling most of those trained to perform the task away from our frontlines, and we could ill afford that loss. (2) “How long before we exhaust our supplies?”
2: Records indicate that the gem industry (miners, gemcutters, jewelers, etc) made up nearly a quarter of Canterlot’s workforce, and the magi were, unsurprisingly, the single biggest consumer of magically-useful gemstones.
Morning consulted a number of scrolls ere she answered. “I cannot say for certain. If we continue with the unrestricted use of gems as we have, where the soldiers have been using them as quick as we can make them... Maybe a couple of weeks, depending how hard the rebels push us. After that, we will see a sharp fall in the quality of gems produced. If we ration them, we might be able to stretch them for a few weeks beyond that.”
“Much depends on the enemy,” I agreed. “It will do us no good to have a stockpile of gems if we are so stingy with them that the city falls.”
“And we have already banned most gem uses that do not directly contribute to the war effort, and asked all the city to donate any gems they can spare.” She sighed tiredly as her eyes drifted out o’er the apprentices. “No matter how much waste we eliminate, it does not change how many gems our forces require. Spell gems like the fire ones our soldiers use so readily. Enchantment gems to keep our equipment in good repair. Not e’en considering how many lighting gems our troops require in the caverns...”
“Lighting gems?” I frowned. “Surely torches should suffice. The rebels manage quite well with them.”
Morning closed her eyes and sighed softly. “I did consider that, yes. But torches require linen and wood, both of which are also in short supply. Our healers need linen for our wounded, and wood is needed in fortifications, spears, arrows, and likely a dozen other functions that slip my mind. We would simply be shifting the burden elsewhere, especially since torches consume themselves far more quickly than lighting gems.”
Unwelcome news, though perhaps it should not have been unexpected. Morning was wise enough to have considered something so obvious. “Then it seems we had best find a solution ere we—”
I fell silent as I noted two familiar figures approaching: Knight-magus Shimmer, and the recently wed and widowed Nimbus. Her red armor now bore a diagonal black stripe across the chest to symbolize her mourning. Both of them looked to be in a foul mood, and ‘twas not hard to guess what might be the cause of it given White’s reaction to Dusk’s defection. “Magus Star, if you would excuse me for a moment...”
The two approached, saluting with a stiffness that betrayed their thinly-veiled displeasure. I returned the gesture and prepared myself for what would follow it.
As befit her Kicker heritage, Nimbus wasted no time getting to the point. “Is it true my husband's killer wishes to defect? And that you will accept him into our ranks?”
“He has offered to join our ranks, yes.” I responded, my tone carefully neutral.
Daylight grimaced in a manner that, now that I was aware of the relation, did seem oddly reminiscent of his mother. “And what have you done with him?”
“For the moment, we are evaluating his request,” I answered. “Such decisions should only be made after careful consideration of the facts.”
“Then you are considering accepting him into our ranks?” Nimbus demanded, her tone lacking the degree of respect that normally ought to be afforded to a superior officer. “E’en after everything he has done?”
“As I said, any decision will be taken once we have fully evaluated the situation.” I disliked such a carefully neutral answer, committing nothing, but it was the most honest response I could give. “In all honesty, we have not yet decided what should be done with him.”
Daylight grimaced at the news. “I am sure the Archmagus at least has a good idea about what should be done with his request.”
“She is one of those evaluating it,” I answered stiffly. “I would be very hesitant to follow any course of action she does not approve of.” Strange to think we had come so far, but war makes for many absurdities.
Nimbus grunted and nodded. “To be frank, I think it unlikely that he would betray his own mother so readily. The bond ‘tween parent and child is inviol—” She abruptly silenced herself at my darkening expression. Perhaps she realized that discussing the strength of such bonds was unwise when speaking to a mare whose father had tried to sunder her clan. Not to mention that Daylight’s mother had abandoned him as an inconvenience. Though I suppose that it was to her credit Sunbeam had done more than most nobles to ensure that he lived well.
Daylight pointedly cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I hope I do not have to remind you of his part in the breaking of the parley that resulted in your wounding, and that ‘twas he who took your daughter prisoner?”
I answered him with a flat look and a dry, faintly annoyed tone. “I could hardly forget mine own near-death, or my daughter’s capture. Howe’er, I have also not forgotten that Gale’s captivity would have been far worse were it not for his actions, and that ‘twas he who returned my daughter to me. Those actions shall also be considered.”
“I will note that he only returned Gale after we had traded Rightly and Dusk to the Rebels,” Daylight countered. “And only so that he might see his sister once more. His actions were born not from any generosity, but mere obligation. And with all due respect, that was not the best trade we could have gotten for such valuable prisoners.”
I grimaced and shook my head. “That matter did not resolve itself to my satisfaction.”
Nimbus’ eyes narrowed, and there was a hard edge to her words. “You speak as if ‘twere not your plan, mater.”
“Not all plans resolve themselves as the planner would wish.” I felt that I should say something more in favor of mine actions. “I think ‘twas far from a wasted effort; Hidden Facts is dead, and Swift exiled. The world is better for both those things.”
“The world, mayhaps, but not our cause,” Daylight rejoined. “We have traded two enemies who were poison to their own side for a stallion who is held to be the greatest of Pegasopolis’ ephors. Mayhaps I am not familiar with the intricacies of your strategy, but exchanging one weak foe for a stronger one makes for a poor trade from where I stand.”
“Rightly would not have been captured were it not for us,” Nimbus declared, a harsh growl entering her voice. “We did not capture Rightly to see him lost to us so cheaply. And ‘twas Dusk who slew my husband—surely you must have realized ‘twould only have been proper to at least have words with us ere deciding upon their fates?”
I frowned, not at all caring for her tone. Daylight took note of my reaction and shook his head, gently placing a restraining hoof on her shoulder. “All of that being so, we are being distracted from what we really wanted to discuss. Namely that we are wary of Dusk. Much about this is too convenient. I have trouble believing he would be so quick in betraying his mother, family, and clan. Especially after he had just been returned to their camp and seen many of the seemingly dishonorable elements within their ranks removed.”
“I do not disagree,” I reassured him. “I certainly have no intention of asking him to guard the gates ‘gainst the rebels. Until I am satisfied that he is truly loyal to us, he shall be treated with the utmost wariness.”
Nimbus scoffed softly. “Wary? He slew my husband!”
“And my best friend,” Daylight agreed. “And many other loyalists besides. He is no small part responsible for nearly breaking our lines during the last major Rebel assault. He is clever, resourceful, and intelligent, not to mention very close to much of the rebel leadership.”
I answered him levelly. “All qualities that make his defection a valuable opportunity.”
“If he is sincere,” Daylight rejoined with stubbornness worthy of his mother. “‘Tis not a gamble I would make so readily. Not when placing him within our city offers him too many opportunities to destroy us from within.”
Nimbus scowled and drew herself up, defiantly glaring into mine eyes. “I will not allow Radiant’s murderer to walk free. If you will not grant me justice through the law, then I shall take it myself. I demand the right to avenge my husband though juris ungula.”
Daylight nodded sharply. “I would also gladly fight a duel to bring my dear friend’s killer to justice, if you will not allow Nimbus to do so.”
I grimaced and shook my head, scowling disapprovingly at both of them. “Thy thirst for vengeance must go unsated. If he is sincere in his desire to join us, Dusk would be an invaluable resource. The needs of the war take precedence o’er thy desires.” I held up a hoof to forestall any objection they might offer. “If we learn that he had played us false, that will be another matter.”
“Then you shield him from justice!” Nimbus snapped. “As materfamilias it is your duty to avenge our dead, yet you refuse. Worse, you deny me the right to gain mine own satisfaction. My husband lies murdered, and you ask that I name his killer as my comrade in arms!”
“We are at war.” I met her accusing glare levelly. “Dusk’s defection could provide us with opportunities we could not gain otherwise. Opportunities that could save lives, or e’en turn the tide of this conflict. I regret that he slew thy husband—Radiant was a fine stallion. Howe’er, I have heard nothing to say that he slew Radiant in any foul or perfidious manner. Two warriors met in battle, and each did their duty. If every rebel soldier is a murderer, then we shall drown Equestria in blood with all the executions we must perform.” I gripped her shoulder, firmly yet not harshly. “I have not buried a husband, but I know the pain of losing my comrades and kin all too well. We cannot let that pain consume us until we forget all decency and reason. A warrior must learn not only how to wield a blade, but how to set it aside once ‘tis no longer needed.”
“Set my blade aside?” she repeated incredulously, shrugging off my hoof. “He may have slain the father of my child, and you ask me to stand aside?!”
Mine eyes widened as I grasped the fullness of her words. “The father of thy...?”
Her eyes fell to the ground, one hoof unconsciously cradling her belly. “The chirurgeons say 'tis too soon to be certain, but...”
“Ah.” I was not certain whether ‘twas wishful thinking on her part or truth. They had not been wed long enough for her to quicken with a child, but young warriors rarely waited until they were wed to share one another’s beds, especially in times of war. It might e’en have been why they chose to wed during the war itself.
Nimbus’ head hung, the fire leaving her eyes as her her anger turned to sorrow. “I only wish my child could have had a chance to know their father. Dusk Charger has denied me that, and he must be punished.”
Daylight stepped up to her side, wrapping a reassuring foreleg across her shoulders. “I promise to be here for thee, Nimbus, as Radiant would have wished.”
Nimbus replied with a wan smile and a grateful nod. After several seconds I delicately cleared my throat. “I see. Congratulations. In light of this information, I shall find an assignment more befitting thy ... condition.”
Daylight nodded approvingly. “Something without danger, I hope. I know matters are dire, but an expecting mare should not be anywhere that could see combat.”
“I would prefer to avoid that if at all possible.” Sending her to the battlefield might become a cruel necessity if the enemy sorely pressed us, but I could spare one soldier until then. “Mayhaps guard duty would suit thee?”
Nimbus briefly frowned, only to shift to a cold smile. “Somepony must keep a wary eye on Dusk until we can be sure of his loyalties. And of course, see to his disposition when his inevitable treachery is revealed.”
Daylight shook his head. “That sounds like a hazardous task for thee and thy child, Nimbus.”
“Not to mention the ... other considerations.” ‘Twould have been unkind to say to her face that I feared she would cut Dusk down at the slightest excuse, but a mare thirsting for vengeance could not be counted upon to view the facts objectively. Howe’er, there was the seed a more suitable task for her. “A more ceremonial post, then. Mayhaps the Archmagus’ tower? I know Sunbeam worries for her daughter’s safety.”
“Would there be other guards for the tower?” Daylight asked at once.
I shrugged. “There could be if she desires them, though ‘twould likely be other soldiers unsuited to the battlefield.”
“It is something I desire,” Daylight answered firmly. “Ceremonial or not, Nimbus should not be alone during such a duty. If the rebels have not already tried to assassinate Archmagus Sparkle I would be quite shocked.” (3)
3: According to Sunbeam Sparkle’s autobiography, there were multiple attempts on her life during the war. While her memoirs are usually considered a highly dubious source, there is at least some independent documentation for one of these attacks. Between that and the fact that she was both a key loyalist and especially disliked by the rebels, most historians believe it’s plausible that there were attempts.
Nimbus grimaced and shook her head. “I am no delicate flower in need of pampering and protecting. Howe’er, a small command would suit me.”
“Hardly a delicate flower,” Daylight agreed with a wry smile. “But thou must concede that thy condition requires special consideration.”
“For thy peace of mind, then,” Nimbus conceded.
Daylight responded with a grateful smile. “My thanks. I only wish for the two of you to be safe; I already have enough to worry about with White.”
I shot him a slightly offended look. “I have seen after her well enough, I should think.”
“Aye, and I am grateful for it.” Daylight sighed and ran a hoof down his face. “I fear the death of her brother was very hard on her. I would have taken her as mine own squire, were it not for the Archmagus’ plans and the fact that not e’en war stops politics. Though she has the skills to be a knight, I fear her heart is troubled.”
“These are troubled times.” I met his gaze seriously. “I will admit that I am not experienced in having a unicorn squire, but I would like to think that I know something of the ways of war and honor. To the extent that I can, I shall teach her of such things. I only hope that shall be enough for her.”
Daylight acknowledged my remarks. “I could ask for nothing less than your best effort. If there is anything you desire for her education, please, do not hesitate to ask.”
“My thanks for thy generous offer. I shall bear it in mind should I have any questions regarding Unicornia’s knightly virtues and traditions.”
“And my new assignment,” Nimbus declared, ducking her head slightly and amending the end of her statement. “Materfamilias.”
“It is what I can offer.” I grimaced and made one further allowance. “And as I said before, if Dusk is playing us false, thou shalt exact thy vengeance personally.” Though perhaps I would need to let White negotiate with her on the matter if it came to that.
“So be it,” Daylight conceded with a grunt. “Until then, I ask that you place a reliable pony to watch over Dusk. If he is here to betray us, then he likely has a plan that accounts for us watching him closely, for only a fool would think we would not be suspicious of his betrayal.”
I nodded grimly. “Then let us hope he is either honest or less clever than we are.”
The feast Sunbeam prepared in honor of Gale’s return and Dusk’s defection was a rather miserable affair, at least when compared to the one recently held for Radiant’s wedding. E’en that feast had been as much a matter of practicality as celebration, removing the last of our perishable foodstock that had been on the verge of spoiling. Now, the selection was far more limited—mostly simple bread alongside smoked and salted vegetables.
‘Twas also a far smaller affair, of course. I had released White from her duties for the day,asking her to break bread with Dusk would obviously be unwise. For that same reason her parents were not in attendance, and that absence made it improper to invite any other members of the Order. Greenwall declined on account of preferring to eat with his soldiers, and neither Sunbeam nor I wished to dine with only the nobles for company. That left the grand banquet at a mere six attendees: myself, Gale, Dusk, Sunbeam, Midnight, and Commander Celestia.
A poor banquet with miserly food. If ‘twere our intention to impress the Avatar with our opulence, then I think we had failed. E’en candles were in short supply.
Commander Celestia sat at the head of the table, a soft smile on her lips as she watched Midnight eagerly conversing with Gale. E’er since the child had arrived, I had not been able to say two words to mine own daughter, but I did not object to it. Gale seemed just as heartened to see her friend again, e’en if Midnight was apparently speaking to her at great length and in excruciating detail about the current state of her skull collection.
With Gale occupied, Dusk approached the Commander, his steps surprisingly hesitant. He paused before her, an uncertain frown on his face. “I apologize, but I confess I am not quite certain how best to address you.”
She answered him with a gentle, reassuring smile. “Your Majesty would be just fine, I think.”
Dusk frowned to himself. “While it is not mine intent to offend, I am no unicorn and you are not my queen.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Though I suppose I could acknowledge you as the Queen of Unicornia, e’en though I am not one of your subjects.” He smiled sheepishly. “I hope that would not offend you, Your Majesty.”
“Of course not,” she murmured. “I realize that thou hast no intention of offending me. Indeed, the entire reason thou didst ask how I would prefer to be addressed was precisely to avoid giving such offense.”
“That is true,” Dusk conceded. “I thank you for understanding it. I am afraid I cannot follow Shadow in naming you as my Commander. At the time I supported the Ephorate and my mother in removing you from office, and while I cannot approve of the course Pegasopolis has followed since asserting its independence, it was our legal right to do so.” He sighed, wearily shaking his head. “But I care little for such points of law and honor—at least, not now. I would ask a boon of you: my mother. She is unwell, and I am sure you would understand what ails her far better than anyone else in all the realms. If there is any hope for her...”
Commander Celestia grimaced, nodding slowly. “It is ... possible, albeit extremely difficult. At the moment, the Avatar exists because both Bright and my sister desire the union. Bright gains strength, and my sister a body free of her imprisonment. ‘Twould be far easier to restore thy mother to her right mind if she desired such a thing—so long as she wishes to remain united with my sister, she will fight us at every step of the process.”
“But e’en if she resists you could save her?” Dusk pressed.
“If fortune favors us, then it could be done,” Celestia reassured him. “I cannot promise anything, as much will depend upon the exact nature of her connection to my sister, and whether thy mother will listen to reason. Howe’er, I firmly believe that there is hope, and shall do everything I can to free her from the Nightmare’s influence.”
Dusk sighed and nodded. “The Archmagus said much the same. It seems that nothing is certain regarding my mother and if she can be saved. Howe’er, I will take a slim hope o'er none at all.”
As the two of them continued speaking on the fate of his mother, mine attention shifted to Gale and Midnight. My daughter was availing herself of the meal, despite its meagerness. Mayhaps e’en simple bread and salted vegetables tasted sweet now that she ate them as a free mare.
While my daughter’s mouth was otherwise occupied, Midnight was more than willing to fill the silence. “My life has improved considerably in the last few days. Mother has released me from my duties carrying water and allowed me to return to my books.” Her eyes narrowed, and a hint of a growl entered her voice. “I now despise water. It is far too heavy, and often produces considerable discomfort when carried in bulk.”
“As thou wert required to carry it,” Gale concluded.
“Aye.” Midnight nodded seriously. “That is what made it intolerable. I do not know what madness took Mother to make her think that I should be forced to carry water; mayhaps I somehow vexed her terribly, and she decided that would be a fitting punishment. If that was indeed so, then I shall no longer complain if I am cuffed about the head for misbehaving. ‘Tis far less horrible than being forced to bear water.”
“I see.” Gale could not entirely hide her amused smile at Midnight precociousness. “In that case I am sorry for thy troubles.”
“Thy sympathies are most deeply appreciated.” Midnight declared gravely, as though Gale were consoling her o’er the death of a loved one rather than a few unpleasant chores. “Thankfully, I no longer have to do that. I am quite enjoying my time studying.”
“And how wert thou spared the horrors of carrying water?” Gale asked. “Didst thou prevail upon thy mother’s mercy? Persuade her to release thee from thy servitude with sweet words or by laying out irrefutable arguments? Or mayhaps e’en petition Celestia to redress the grave injustice inflicted upon thee?”
Midnight grimaced and shook her head. “I attempted to bring the matter to Her Majesty’s attention, but she declared that she would not interfere in how Mother raised me so long as she did so properly. Alas, I could not persuade her of the depths of my suffering ere she asked her guards to escort me back to Mother’s tower due to the lateness of the hour.” She let out a long, put-upon sigh. “Thankfully, Mother said she did not wish for me to remain at the front line where I might be slain by the enemy. As I nearly was when the rebels assaulted our positions, and I came perilously close to falling to my death as the warlocks destroyed our fortifications. After that, I was nearly slain as Rebels came flooding in through the breech. A dead earth pony fell on me. ‘Twas unpleasant.”
Gale blinked in shock, then quickly looked her o’er. “Wert thou wounded?”
“Neigh, merely bled upon,” Midnight reassured her flatly, seeming far less perturbed by the specter of death than she had been at the prospect of carrying water. “The earth pony was fatally skewered through with a pike by one of our soldiers and fell ‘pon my horn as he drove me to the ground, howling in great agony as his body spasmed in the throes of death. Eventually, his screams of pain turned to cries for his mother as the last of his life left him and his lifeblood soaked me. Alas, my position did not e’en allow me to observe his eyes and see if the light left them as he passed on.”
Gale stared at the young child for several long seconds, then gathered her up into a fierce hug. “Ah, I truly did miss thee.”
Midnight blinked in surprise, then returned the gesture. “I felt thine absence most keenly as well. Please do not allow thyself to be captured again. ‘Twas most vexing for me.”
“I apologize for being so inconsiderate,” Gale answered dryly. “‘Twas most inconsiderate of me to deprive thee of my companionship by allowing myself to be captured.”
Midnight seemed satisfied by that. “So long as thou dost not repeat it, I shall forgive thee.”
“Most generous of thee.” Gale barely managed to restrain a chuckle at the child’s antics. “So thou has returned to thy studies? What occupies thine interest?”
The filly’s face brightened at the change in subject. “There are a number of things. Magic, dreams, mathematics, and possessions most notably, though there are also a countless profusion of lesser subjects that occupy mine attention for a time.”
“And which is your favorite?”
“Magic, but of course.” Midnight declared matter-of-factly. “I will become a magus someday, just as my mother is. How else shall I crush mine enemies when I am older?”
Gale chuckled softly. “Ah, I should not be surprised to hear that.”
Midnight nodded. “I am most rational in my goals.”
“But of course.” Gale’s eyes shifted to me, and it seemed she noticed that I was observing them. “Ah, Mother. I hope I was not neglecting you.”
“Nothing of the sort,” I assured her. “I was actually quite enjoying listening in on thy conversation with Midnight.”
“You do seem rather silent.” Gale leaned closer to me, softly whispering. “Are you troubled by what occurred with Rightly?”
“I am,” I confessed. “I thought him to be a stallion of honor, but...”
“Mother says that honor is one of the most useless words in all creation,” Midnight declared, as though trying to impress us by joining our conversation. “That if one were to ask a half-score of ponies about the meaning of honor, there would be a dozen different answers.”
“That does sound like something thy mother would say,” I allowed.
“She is not entirely wrong,” Gale agreed, to my surprise. Mine incredulity must have shown on my face, for she turned to explain herself to me. “Honor comes in many forms, Mother. Look to Dusk and the course he has followed: honor demanded that he follow his mother and clan leader, yet also that he oppose the dark magic that made her the Avatar. That he slay you to avenge his sister, yet also join forces with you to oppose the darkness within the rebel cause.”
“He broke his word to me.” Mine eyes narrowed at the mere thought of it.
“There are some who would say a prisoner is honor-bound to escape their captivity by whate’er means they can,” Gale countered. “And e’en then, does he not owe his clan and Pegasopolis more than you? The dead of his clan cry out for vengeance, and Pegasopolis needed a new leader after Swift was deposed. Should he value his word to you above his clan and nation? Many would say that the honorable course is to serve the greater good, e’en if it requires that he sacrifice a portion of his personal honor by breaking faith with you.”
“So honor could both justify him keeping faith and breaking it.” Midnight nodded to herself. “It is as Mother said: a word that can be used to justify most anything.”
“I do not think I would go that far,” Gale disagreed. “Rather, it is that honor often pulls us in many different directions. I must maintain my personal honor, but also honor my mother, my clan, my nation, and my commanders. Sometimes we cannot maintain all of those, and must chose which of them we value more highly.”
“That ... does seem a reasonable premise.” I conceded. “Though if that is the case, then Rightly chose poorly.”
“I suspect Rightly would say the same of you,” Gale countered mildly. “I merely point out that we must understand him to defeat him, and to his mind his actions are still as honorable as circumstances will allow him.”
“Choosing the lesser dishonor is still dishonorable.” I frowned, thinking back to some of mine own actions. “Though mayhaps sometimes circumstances leave us with no choice but to do precisely that. Regardless, I think his judgement was in error.”
“On that, we are agreed.” With an easy, charming smile Dusk joined us, settling into the seat across from my daughter. “After all, I would hardly be here if I approved of his choices.” His eyes turned to my daughter. “Gale, thou art a vision of loveliness.” My daughter responded with a gesture unsuited to polite company, which Dusk resolutely ignored. He then turned to the last of our party. “Ah, so this is the little Midnight I have heard so much about. It seems Gale’s description was quite accurate.”
“Oh?” Midnight’s head cocked to the side as she examined him. “And I am to guess you are the pony whom Gale despises with her very being?”
Dusk chuckled softly. “I do not think she hates me that badly.”
Midnight cast a curious glance at my daughter. “Gale, what is it you told me about him?” When she did not immediately answer, Midnight provided. “I believe you said he was the most loathsome creature you ever laid eyes upon—a lecherous stallion of poor character. Thou spake of thy desire to never see him again, for fear of how his company would cause ponies to speak poorly of you merely by being seen in the same vicinity, so lowly was his reputation. Further, you said that he is a pony whom even reivers and warlocks would not wish to keep company with. That you would gladly slay him at the slightest opportunity, and would feel as though a great scourge were removed from the world if he were dead.”
Dusk took the news in stride, smirking at Gale. “I did not know I was so often in her thoughts.”
“Aye, she spoke of you quite often.” Midnight stared at him, slowly blinking. “She listed out the many ways she would wish to slay you. She liked at least two dozen of mine own suggestions. Shall I go ahead and list them?”
Dusk grinned at my daughter. “I admit I am rather curious to hear this.”
Gale sighed and shook her head. “Well, if thou wouldst insist upon having thy loathsome nature and the cruel fate you so richly deserve discussed in detail...”
Midnight frowned at the two of them. “I am quite surprised you two have not tried to duel each other to the death yet. To stab, and slash, and maim one another in gladiatorial combat in a test to see whom is the greater warrior in a misguided attempt to please your mothers with your skill and prove who is the worthier heir to your houses.”
“I considered it,” Gale answered dismissively, “but that would be too quick and clean a death for him. His foulness requires greater suffering.”
“But of course it does,” Dusk agreed without missing a beat. “I expect she shall do something far more horrible than grant me an easy death in battle. Far too honorable for the likes of me. Neigh, I fear she shall inflict the most horrible punishment she could possibly imagine.” He leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially. “I fear she intends to marry me.”
My daughter’s cheeks caught fire, and she glowered murderously at him. Meanwhile, Midnight’s head tilted further. “Marriage? That sounds like a poor form of torture.”
“Oh my dear, innocent child...” Dusk murmured softly and shook his head. “She would be fore’er at my side, e’en within the safety of mine own home. Imagine having her there, upbraiding and demeaning me every day. ‘Twould be a torture that lasts an entire lifetime, and prevent me from e’er finding love and comfort in the arms of another mare. A cruel fate, indeed.”
Midnight frowned skeptically. “Why would anypony tolerate such a thing?”
Gale scoffed at the suggestion. “As if I would give him any choice in how he will suffer.”
Midnight frowned and stared between the two of them for some time, then sighed and threw her eyes to the heavens. “I do not understand such things. I would merely seek to cut such a pony's throat and be done with the matter. Watching their lifesblood spill out of their torn throat as they let out ragged gasps in a vain attempt to stave off death for a few moments longer would be satisfaction enough, but this is far too much work for far too little reward.”
Dusk blinked at her morbidity, then met Gale’s eyes. “She truly is unique.”
“As I told thee many a time,” she answered with a smile.
Dusk’s gaze shifted back to the child. “Well, such a lovely young filly deserves gifts.”
Midnight’s head shifted its angle as she stared at him unblinkingly. “Gifts?”
Dusk smiled, then reached into his saddlebag and removed a small kerchief, opening it to reveal a pressed flower. “A moonflower. I found it the other day, and resolved to gift it to the most beautiful mare I met.” He paused a moment to smirk at my daughter, then pointedly set the flower down before Midnight. Gale rolled her eyes at the display, grumbling several uncomplimentary and untrue things about his parentage under her breath.
Midnight stared down at the flower. “Um...” She shifted awkwardly in her seat. “I am sure there are prettier mares than myself. I am not even technically a mare.”
Dusk smile did not waver. “Nonetheless, I offer this to thee.”
“I see.” She frowned down at the flower, then back up at him. “Well, Mother would say I should accept a gift in the spirit it is given.”
Right as Midnight would have taken the flower for herself, Dusk swiftly pulled it back. Midnight blinked in surprise, and Dusk answered her with an easy smile. “Alas, now that I have finally seen thee in the flesh, I feel that a mere flower is not a fitting gift for such a lovely young lady. I pray that thou shalt forgive me for failing to have something suitable, but I give my word that I shall offer thee something ten times better on the morrow.”
“Oh.” Midnight frowned down at the flower as Dusk tucked it away. “Very well then.”
Dusk smiled disarmingly and made a quick recovery. “For the moment, you may have my cake.” He passed her his slice, though ‘twas a rather poor excuse for cake. Presumably the kitchen lacked all the ingredients to make it properly.
“I do like cake.” Midnight announced gravely, ere she began to eat it with such enthusiasm that ‘twas plain she was not upset by any deficiencies in its quality. She paused between bites, frowning thoughtfully. “At least as long as it has not been poisoned or the like, which would cause me to vomit and void myself uncontrollably while experiencing excruciating pain as my body slowly collapsed from the poison’s effects. That would ruin cake, I would think.”
“I promise, there was no poison in it.” Dusk paused, then pointedly turned to my daughter. “Unless Gale poisoned it, that is.”
My daughter scoffed. “As if I would let thee die so quickly and cleanly.”
Assured of her cake’s safeness, Midnight resumed eating. After several more bites she paused to offer her thoughts. “Poison is not considered a clean death, and often ‘tis not quick. There are many poisons that can inflict a slow and agonizing death—Charity’s Choicy Choker for one. It causes the throat to slowly close, making it painful to breathe, but the swelling only closes the throat enough to make the victim feel like they are constantly choking to death before exhaustion finally claims them.”
Dusk stared at her for a long moment, then turned to Gale. “I see thou wert not exaggerating in thy description of her.”
Gale chuckled softly, wrapping a wing around the young girl. “But of course not.”
Midnight finished her cake, then paused, her eyes resting on me. “Gale, do you think your mother would like some cake?”
“Surely thou could ask me directly,” I cut in with a gentle smile. “And yes, I do enjoy a good slice of cake.”
Midnight smiled hopefully up at me. “Ah, I had hoped that you would.” She hesitated, and I could almost swear I saw a hint of a blush beneath her dark coat. “Mayhaps I could obtain a slice for you then. ‘Tis the least I could do after you saved my life in battle.”
“I would welcome that.”
Midnight proceeded to use her magic to obtain a generous portion for me. “Was there anything else you desired?”
I smiled dryly at her. “Mayhaps a glass of water?”
Midnight tried to smile, but one side of her face twitched in a horrible rictus. “Of ... of course. It would be my pleasure to ... to carry ... water. For you.”
Gale grinned devilishly. “Actually, I would like a glass as well.”
“And I too,” Dusk agreed. “If ‘tis not too much trouble.”
“One for me as well, child,” Sunbeam called out.
“As long as thou art getting water for everypony else...” Commander Celestia chimed in from across the table.
Midnight let out a long melodramatic groan. “Why? What horrible crime have I committed, that I must be condemned to suffer such a cruel fate?”
We all enjoyed a good laugh at the poor child’s expense.