Whatever remained of my mother, if anything remained at all, died while I languished in an all-too-familiar cell beneath Canterlot Castle. It felt wrong to be so far away when she met her end, especially when I had played a part in bringing about her downfall. Much as I told myself that everything good within my mother died when the Avatar claimed her body, a part of me wanted to believe otherwise. The same part that had silenced my doubts when the Avatar presented her plans for Midnight Sparkle.
I had, perhaps, condemned myself and my sister to death by listening to that piece of my heart. Had I realized how far the Avatar had fallen just a few hours sooner, I would not have made myself a traitor twice over. Alas, I could not reverse time and undo mine actions. My brother was dead, my sister forced to become a kinslayer, and the two of us were likely condemned to execution. ‘Twas a sorry state indeed.
The cell door opened, and one of my jailers entered. “Food, oathbreaker.” I reached out to take the bowl of gruel, only for him to pull it away and slam a hoof into my gut. “Ah, it seems thou art too eager. This food is not yet fit for perfidious traitors who plot to murder innocent children.” He upended the bowl, dumping its contents onto the dungeon floor. “There. If thou wouldst eat, lick it up like the dog thou art. Be grateful we feed thee at all.” He struck me a few times, taking care to strike in places that would not leave obvious signs of mistreatment. As he walked out the door, he paused to shoot one final cruel smirk my way. “Thy mother’s head sits upon a pike adorning the gates of Canterlot. Perhaps we will be kind enough to set thine next to it. Family should stay together.”
I sat back, refusing to rise to the bait. After everything else I had suffered, a few cruel words and sharp blows from a nameless prison guard were barely worth mentioning. An empty stomach and a few hidden bruises were a small matter to a stallion awaiting his death. I only prayed my sister was not suffering similarly.
The days passed slowly in my cell, with nothing to do except ponder the fall of my clan and mine own pending execution. I began to wonder if perhaps they had forgotten about me, or were content to let me slowly rot away to nothingness.
After what seemed like an age, my cell door opened to a new face. Gale scowled down at me, sniffing pointedly. “You reek. Count yourself fortunate I realized you would. Your trial is set to begin in an hour’s time, and I want you to look as presentable as possible for it. As you are now, they would execute you for the offense to their nostrils alone.”
Gale led me out to the gardens, flanked by several Kicker guards. Once we were in place near one of the ponds and hidden behind a set of hedges, she unceremoniously shoved me into the cold water. “Be quick about it.”
I wasted no time removing the thick coat of grime my stay in the dungeons had left me with. If I was walking to mine execution, I could at least look somewhat respectable. I did the best I could with only cold water—I doubted any of the Kickers would offer me a razor, so shaving was out of the question.
Once I had done as much as possible, I risked a few questions. I knew little of what had passed in since my confinement beyond the obvious. “How goes the war?”
Gale frowned at me, but after several seconds relented. “The rebel army withdrew from Canterlot after the Avatar’s defeat. Rumor has it that their morale is on the verge of breaking, and a few earth pony communities have e’en requested a separate peace or outright declared for Celestia. I suspect the rumors are somewhat optimistic, though not without merit.”
Small surprise. Our supply situation had been tenuous before the Avatar’s fall, and after that Rightly would doubtless have thought it wiser to withdraw to winter quarters. He could spend the next few months allowing morale to recover and restructuring his army. Mayhaps he would e’en seek a foreign alliance. It made little difference—my part in this war had ended.
“My sister?” I asked.
“In better quarters than you,” Gale grunted out. “The degree of her guilt is less certain, and her time in the dungeons would have been far less pleasant.” Her eyes glanced to me and softened slightly. “You spared me much unpleasantness when I was your captive. ‘Twas only proper to return the favor. Past that ... thine own trial will likely set the tone for hers.”
I nodded, having already expected that to be the case. In truth, all I hoped to gain from the trial was the chance to clear her name, or at least spare her from death. I would gladly submit myself to whate’er fate Celestia wished so long as my sister lived.
Once I was cleaned and dressed in a simple grey robe of homespun wool, Gale led me towards the throne room. “‘Twill be a relatively private affair. Celestia herself will o’ersee it and render judgement, while Noble Quest, Greenwall, and Sunbeam advise her. I shall also be there speaking in Mother’s place.” Ere I could inquire, she clarified. “Mother has not yet fully recovered from the wounds she suffered battling the Avatar.”
“I see.” Grandmaster Quest would likely share his daughter’s hatred for me, given my role in the death of his son and daughter-in-law; Greenwall was not especially known to me, but Sunbeam ... I had kidnapped her daughter and given her o’er to the Avatar to be sacrificed. With that jury counseling Celestia on her verdict, I would probably count myself lucky if I could earn a clean death for myself and Dawn.
There was one other pony to consider: Gale herself. The mare had no reason to love me after what I had done, but ‘tween seeing to my sister and ensuring I would look presentable for my trial, she was the closest thing I had to an ally. E’en if she only aided me out of a sense of obligation, ‘twas still aid I sorely needed. If ‘twere her mother standing before me, the only aid I could have hoped for was a blade to end my dishonor ere the trial began. Though if ‘twould ensure that my sister did not join me in death, I would have accepted such an offer without a moment's hesitation.
Gale led me into the throne room. Celestia herself sat resplendent upon her throne, gazing down upon me in judgement. Her words carried the heavy weight of formality, despite the fact that ‘twas only the five of us in the room. “Dusk Charger, thou art called to account for thine actions and art accused of the crimes of perfidy and high treason. What is thine answer to these charges?”
I tried to meet her eyes and conduct myself with at least some dignity, but I do not think I succeeded. “I have no defense for mine actions and will accept whatever ruling is given to me. The only thing I wish to say is that Dawn was innocent in all of this—she knew nothing of my plans to commit perfidy or break mine oaths, or of the Avatar’s intentions towards young Midnight. As soon as she learned of these things, she attempted to free Midnight from the Avatar’s custody, at considerable risk to herself.”
Celestia frowned down at me. “Thou hast nothing to say in thine own defense, then?”
I closed mine eyes and nodded. “I am guilty of the crimes for which I stand accused. There is no excuse I could offer for mine actions. I am prepared to face justice.”
Noble Quest snorted, sparing a contemptuous glower for me. “At least this will be quick trial, then. Take his head and let us be done with it.”
“Aye.” Greenwall grunted out. “The law is clear enough. ‘Tis plain he hopes his confession will shield his sister.” He shrugged. “No matter. We shall consider her guilt at her trial, not his.”
Gale stepped forward. “I feel ‘twould be remiss not to state that for all his crimes, Dusk also provided us with information that was key to the defeat of the Avatar and the rescue of Midnight Sparkle. Were it not for his actions—”
“He revealed that information after my daughter captured him,” Noble countered. “When the Order hunts bandits and murderers, many of those we capture betray their fellows in the hopes that they will be spared punishment for their own crimes. The only difference here is that his crimes were the foulest I have e’er seen.”
Gale frowned and shook her head. “He willingly went to the palace, surrendered himself into custody and immediately volunteered the information along with a full confession, despite knowing the consequences of that. ‘Tis hardly the same, and we should bear that in mind while considering his sentence.”
“It changes nothing.” Greenwall stubbornly shook his head. “Whate’er other actions he might have taken do nothing to negate his crimes. We do not forgive thieves and murderers just because they give money to charity or are kind to their neighbors.”
“E’en if it is as you say, he knew the consequences, and now he will suffer them.” Noble shifted his gaze to Celestia, appealing directly to her. “Perhaps he does feel remorse for his actions. He most certainly should if there is any shred of decency left within him. Howe’er, that does not spare him from facing justice. No apology can restore life to those who have died by this traitor’s hooves. No regret can undo the harms he has wrought. The only thing we can offer the fallen is the assurance that justice shall be carried out this day.”
Gale refused to cede the argument. “If not for the information he provided, the city might well have fallen. I shudder to think what would have happened if the Avatar had been able to complete her dark ritual. Certainly, none of us would be in any position to stand judgement over this stallion.”
“Unlike you, I have faith enough in our soldiers to believe that they could have located the Avatar in time.” Noble turned and leveled an accusing hoof at me. “Let us not forget that the entire reason the Avatar was in a position to begin the ritual you speak of was because of Dusk Charger. ‘Twas he who contacted the traitors within our midst, and he who led the attack on Archmagus Sparkle’s tower and delivered her daughter into the Avatar’s hooves! Would you have us laud him for delivering us from a peril that he himself created?!”
Gale sighed and shook her head. “I do not deny the gravity of his crimes, but we cannot ignore the good he has done either.”
Greenwall shrugged. “Behead him, then. Faster than hanging, and ‘tis a warrior’s death rather than a criminal’s. Makes little difference to me. Dead is dead.”
“A hanging better suits his crimes.” Noble shot another poisonous look my way. “But if taking his head will end the matter and let us move on to other things, then so be it.”
Gale jabbed an elbow into my ribs. “Say something in thine own defense, fool! Dost thou care so little for thine own life?!”
I struggled to think of any response I could offer. In all truth, she was far more invested in keeping me alive than I was. I had known from the start that this would end with my death, and I had made peace with that. “What would you have me say? Everything they claim is true.”
Gale scoffed and turned her back on me. “If you insist on walking to your doom, I will not mourn you. I will settle whate’er debt remains by working in your sister’s defense, but I will not waste my time trying to save a stallion who does not wish to be...” She trailed off her eyes flicking to the side. “Sunbeam.”
“What of her?” I asked.
“She has said nothing,” Gale explained. “That is unlike her.” She turned away from me and cleared her throat. “I think we should not render judgement upon Dusk until all present have spoken. Archmagus Sparkle, what say you regarding Dusk’s fate?”
Sunbeam stepped forward, sparing a quick grimace for me ere she spoke. “Regardless of actions, both laudable and damning, we need him alive.”
“For what reason?” Noble demanded. “With all respect, Archmagus, rumor has it you almost gave him and his sister a summary execution when they were captured. What could have made you change your mind so radically in such a short time?
“When I threatened him with death, I was enraged by his actions,” Sunbeam answered smoothly. “That was nearly a week ago. Passions have cooled, and some of us are able to look at the situation rationally.”
She produced a map from within her robe, using her magic to lift it into the air and make it appear large enough that all could easily see it. “Secondly, the battlefield itself has changed. I am sure you will all be glad to hear that we can confirm the rumors. Fillydelphia’s pegasus garrison is dead of poisoned drink, and the city is once more in Celestia’s hooves.”
Small surprise. The city had only surrendered to avoid being taken by force and sacked. Now that the rebel cause was in shambles, they saw their chance to reassert their true loyalties. Losing the garrison to poison would have upset me far more were it not for the fact that ‘twas the Blades who held Fillydelphia. As it was, mine only concern was whether Swift had met his end with most of his clan or if he was still in hiding elsewhere.
Sunbeam continued. “While the bulk of the rebel army is proceeding to winter quarters in Manehattan, Rightly has split off a substantial portion of the clans’ strength in an effort to rally rebel-held communities near Fillydelphia and quash the uprising ere it spreads. He cannot afford to let this fester o’er the winter and encourage other loyalists to rise up against him, or else by next year’s campaign season he will need to reconquer half the earth ponies.”
Noble pointedly cleared his throat. “While this news is welcome and I would be glad to discuss the strategic implications of it later, I do not see how it is relevant to Dusk Charger’s fate.”
“Patience,” Sunbeam chided. “Withdrawing the best of the clans’ remaining strength has left the main rebel army critically weak in airpower, and far too reliant on earth pony militias that have little desire to continue the war. Rightly clearly believes the war is done for the year, or at least that we are unable to pursue his army.”
“With good reason,” Greenwall grunted. “Most of my soldiers are chomping at the bit to go home to families they have not seen since the siege began. Not to mention our food stocks are critically depleted with winter almost upon us. E’en with the siege broken, ‘twill be a struggle to keep the city fed until spring arrives.”
“We are all war-weary,” Sunbeam conceded. “But the enemy is e’en moreso. I spoke with Shadow shortly before we assembled, and she concurs that while there is considerable risk to launching a late fall offensive, the rebel army is far weaker now than they will be if we allow them months to recover and train.” The Archmagus nodded to Greenwall. “Swift Blade used his militia conscripts as expendable fodder, but Rightly has seen the martial skill earth ponies possess with proper leadership and training. Given several months peace to train, he will do his best to forge them into a force equal to yours. Not to mention the risk that he might seek foreign aid or supplement his forces with mercenaries.”
“So you hope to catch his army and destroy it, ending the war ere winter falls.” Noble frowned at the map, but slowly nodded. “A bold strategy, though I do not know if we could force the rebel army to battle ere the campaign season ends.”
Sunbeam smiled. “That is where the war intersects with the fate of the condemned. In order to reach Manehattan, the rebels will have to withdraw across Maresidian Fields—most notably, the major river crossing here, very near the territory of our dear friend Archmagus Mossy Banks. If the Archmagus deploys his forces to deny them the river crossing, he can delay the enemy long enough for our main force to fall upon their rear.”
Greenwall frowned as the rest of the pieces fall into place. “A large portion of Banks’ strength comes from the Stalker clan.”
“And by all indications, the Stalkers joined us because of Dusk’s seeming defection,” Sunbeam concluded. “It seems they were unaware of his perfidious plans. How they would take the revelation of his true loyalties and subsequent execution is ... unknown. We lose our chance to destroy the rebel army if they abandon our cause. Shadow is certain that Banks cannot hold the river crossing without his own pegasi, to say nothing of the risk that they might revert their loyalties entirely.”
Noble frowned at the map. “If the Stalker clan’s loyalty to our cause is so fickle, perhaps we should not rely on them for such a critical operation.”
Sunbeam shrugged. “If you can conjure a force of pegasi to replace them and instantly transport them to Banks’ side, then by all means.” She let the barb hang for a long moment ere she resumed. “We must make war with the army we have, not the army we wish for. Our battle plan cannot succeed without the Stalkers.”
“So take his head after the battle,” Greenwall proposed.
“That would be an option,” Sunbeam agreed, “if the battle was our only concern. Howe’er, there is also the matter of his clan to consider. Though I cannot confirm their numbers now, the Chargers were the largest of the clans when the war began. With the death of the Avatar, they are lost and leaderless, as the only one of her children not dead or captured is a child. I am sure that in due time the clan will appoint a successor, but none has emerged yet. Imagine the effect it would have upon the clan’s morale if the heir apparent publicly reaffirmed his loyalty to Celestia and called upon the rest of them to lay down their arms.”
“It accomplished little when he did so before,” Noble countered. “And I think his words will carry little weight once his clan learns of how flexible his loyalties have proven. Let alone the fact that he is a kinslayer now.”
“His words had far less impact while the Avatar lived. With her dead, and the depths of her corruption revealed...” Sunbeam shrugged. “It creates new possibilities. The Chargers are broken and leaderless now. If nothing else, executing the Avatar’s children might rally them under the flag of vengeance.”
“Shall we wait until the war is concluded in its entirety, then?” Noble scoffed and shook his head. “Or will we set aside any concern for what is honorable and proper, merely because you believe ‘twill make our victory come easier? E’en if you are not mistaken, I wonder what value our victory would have if we must spit in the face of justice to gain it.”
Greenwall grunted his agreement. “It sounds as if you would do more than just spare the perfidious bastard. Do you intend to set him up as the new head of the clan, despite his betrayal?”
“Hardly.” Sunbeam spared a contemptuous glance for me. “As you say, he is not reliable enough to hold command. I merely seek to avoid alienating vital allies or giving the enemy fresh reason to resist us at a critical moment in the war.”
“Let us suppose for a moment that your plans succeed,” Noble proposed. “What do you intend to do when the Chargers demand to be led by their new paterfamilias?”
Gale snorted and shook her head. “If enough Chargers join our cause for us to be concerned with their desires, then the war will already be won.”
“Assuming they do not follow Dusk’s example,” Noble cut in acidly. “After this incident, I see little reason to trust any warrior of Clan Charger who claims to be loyal to the crown. Accept their surrenders, but I would not field any of them with our forces unless matters became truly desperate once more. I do not think any soldiers inclined to follow a leader of Dusk’s abysmal character would be worth recruiting in any case.”
Greenwall cleared his throat. “I have a question, Archmagus: how do our own forces address desertion and murder? Surely we cannot punish Dusk’s far worse crimes less harshly.”
Sunbeam scoffed and shook her head. “I grasp the point you are trying to make, but it has no relevance to the matter at hoof. Damaging our cause and extending the war simply on a point of honor or a legal technicality is foolish.” She turned to Noble. “You say we must do what is right? I would contend that the most moral course of action is to win this war and crush the rebellion with as few loyal lives lost as possible. If killing Dusk Charger would accomplish that, I would do it without hesitation. At the moment, doing so would have the opposite effect, and so I oppose his execution.”
“‘Points of honor and legal technicalities’?” Noble repeated incredulously. “He is a murderer! He is guilty of perfidy, one of the foulest violations of the laws of war imaginable! What would our soldiers say if we let him go unpunished?”
“What will they say if they find out you extended the war by another year merely for the satisfaction of lopping off his head?” Her eyes narrowed, venom entering her voice. “And that only concerns the soldiers who will still be able to speak. What will you tell the widows, orphans, and bereaved parents left behind? ‘Yes, your son died in a needless battle, but at least I was able to avenge myself on a helpless prisoner.’ I am sure that will be a great comfort to them as they mourn the fallen.”
“Be that as it may,” Greenwall maintained. “Dusk is far too prominent a prisoner to be forgotten, and his crimes far too infamous to be ignored. How will our own soldiers react when they learn that he shall be pardoned? When you release the militia to its homes for the winter, we will not forget the decision you make here. If Dusk is shown mercy, I wager many of my soldiers might not return in the spring.” He quickly raised a hoof. “I do not say this to threaten or insult, ‘tis merely the reality of the situation. ‘Twill be quite the struggle to raise them again as it stands, with how long and painful the siege was. Any further blow to their morale or the legitimacy of our cause will make the task ten times harder.”
“That suggests a simple solution,” Gale cut in. “If knowledge of his crimes would damage morale, then we should not make his crimes public.”
Noble blinked in shock. “You would suggest that we conceal the truth from our own soldiers? I, for one, will not be party to such a thing. I do not know what virtues they teach in Pegasopolis or amongst the magi, but the Order of Sol Invictus believes in honesty. I will ne’er lie to any of the knights under my command.”
“I do not ask you to lie to them,” Gale countered. “Merely to not volunteer the information. Only the ponies here, Mother, and her squire know of Dusk’s perfidy. We hardly need announce it to the world at large, and we can easily explain his confinement as a precautionary measure in light of the Avatar’s infiltration.”
Noble stood his ground. “A lie by omission is still a lie.”
“So do you tell your knights everything we discuss?” Sunbeam asked, her tone almost mocking. “Do you share with them all the intelligence we gain, no matter how secret? What about hidden weaknesses in our fortifications, or the fine details—”
“Your point is made, Archmagus,” Noble scowled at her. “I do not tell my knights everything, but you must concede that there is a substantial difference in this case.”
“I do not see it.” Gale shrugged. “It is a secret that would damage our cause, just the same as publicly revealing the names of mine agents within the rebel forces. I have trusted your discretion on matters of intelligence in past without issue.”
“So we just forget the ponies who died by his hooves?” Noble thundered, stomping up to her and glaring furiously. “Bad enough when you advised granting him mercy he did not show, but now the deaths of my son, his wife, and their unborn child will be entirely forgotten? He will not e’en bear the stain to his reputation for his crimes?” He whirled upon Sunbeam. “Can you truly pretend that this stallion did not pass your daughter to cultists so that they could sacrifice her to their dark mistress? How can you look him in the eye and not be o’erwhelmed by the urge to tear him asunder for what he did? Do you love your daughter so little?”
Sunbeam’s eyes narrowed, and her words seemed deceptively calm. “I faced down an entire coven of warlocks to save my daughter. I understand you are o’erwrought with grief on account of your recent losses, and for that reason alone I will ignore your words and not demand satisfaction. Howe’er, unlike you, I do not allow mine emotions to cloud my judgement. Yes, there is a part of me that wants nothing more than to listen as Dusk screams in agony for hours on end until I finally end his miserable existence. Howe’er, Equestria’s needs must come first.”
Noble said nothing, and I felt Gale’s elbow dig into my ribs. I took a deep breath, then faced Noble Quest. “Sir, I know you likely do not wish to hear anything I would say, but I am ... sorry for everything I have done. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I believed that ‘twas the only way I could save my mother from a gruesome death. It was only after I had kidnapped Midnight that I learned the full depths of the Avatar’s depravity and finally admitted to myself that my mother died long ago. My family, my friends ... I had already lost so much to the war, and I could not bear the thought of losing my mother as well.”
I took a moment to gather my thoughts and master mine emotions ere I continued. “I do not say any of this to excuse mine actions, merely to explain them. ‘Twas desperation that drove me to do something I knew was wrong, not malice or depravity.” ‘Twas a struggle to meet his eyes, but I did so. “I am sorry for Nimbus’ death. I do not expect you will believe me, but I did mine utmost to spare her and she was killed against mine orders. ‘Tis a crime that will weigh on me for the rest of my days, however many of those I have. If by my death I could restore her and her child to life, I would ask for a blade and see to the matter myself.”
Noble held my gaze and frowned, but he said nothing. I hoped he believed me. Not because I felt ‘twould earn me mercy, but ... merely so he would know the truth. I owed him that much after the horrors I had inflicted upon his family. His mouth half-opened as though he was about to say something, but he turned his back on me ere I could learn whether he aimed to condemn me once more or ... something else. In all honesty, I do not know which I would have preferred. His forgiveness would have made my pain all the keener, for I had no right to ask it.
Silence fell upon the room, until at last Celestia cleared her throat. “Thank you all very much for providing your perspective on the issue. Howe’er, I believe I have made my decision.” Everyone turned to face her, and I waited to hear my doom. “Dusk’s crimes cannot be ignored and any other actions he might have taken do not remove them. By the same token, we cannot ignore that he attempted to undo the damage he caused, or the genuine remorse he has shown for his actions. Moreo'er, Sunbeam is correct that the war effort is better served by keeping him alive. He will be punished for what he has done, but that punishment will not be death. I know this will not satisfy all of you, but if I am in error on this matter I would rather err on the side of mercy.”
Noble was the first to respond, his voice thick with barely restrained emotion. “What sentence will you pass upon him, then?”
Celestia turned her attention from the court to address me directly. “Thou hast thy life, Dusk. I expect thee to spend it in atonement for all thou hast done. Thou hast not earned this mercy, it is my gift to thee, and one I expect to be repaid. I am sure it need not be said what will happen shouldst thou stray, e’en for a moment or in a seemingly minor way.”
She seemed to be waiting for me to respond, so I answered. “I understand.”
“Good.” She shifted her attention back to the room. “There is one other matter to be clarified: Dusk is clearly unsuited to lead his clan both because of his actions against the crown and the part he played in the death of his own brother. His sister is similarly tainted, and the only remaining child of Bright Charger is a child indeed, and still within rebel hooves. After consulting with Shadow, I feel that attempting to reconstitute the clan under new leadership loyal to the crown would not be a viable course of action.”
I blinked in shock as the full implications of her words sank in. “You mean...?”
“Clan Charger will vanish into the pages of history,” Celestia confirmed. “All rights, titles, and honors afforded to the clan and its members are defunct. Perhaps in time the name Charger will be remembered for the good it did, rather than the crimes it has committed in this war.”
I sank onto my haunches, scarcely believing mine own ears. Mine own death I had expected and accepted, but the end of my clan? The Charger clan was so ancient and venerable that its creation was the stuff of legend, shrouded in myth. We predated Celestia, Equestria, and e’en Pegasopolis itself. Some of the oldest histories of ponykind were tales of my clan’s exploits, the victories we had won against impossible odds. A legacy of thousands of years, stretching back to the dawn of time.
And now, all of that had been lost. With a few simple words, Celestia had undone it.
Because of me.
I could scarcely comprehend the horror of it. “My sister could...” The words died on my lips. Dawn was tainted by the same crimes I was, and e’en without that ... much as I loved my sister, she was a chirurgeon, not a warlord. “Shield could still...” My brother was not e’en old enough to be trusted with a properly sharpened blade, let alone leadership of the clan. “There must be some way we could...”
There wasn’t. It was over. My clan. Our legacy. Everything we had spent thousands of years building ... gone.
I would have preferred the headsmare’s axe to this mercy.
Archmagus Sparkle cleared her throat. “While the laws have not been fully drafted yet, I feel we should be clear about their likely form. This is more than just formally disbanding the clan’s organization; all former members of the clan are barred from bearing arms or armor without special dispensation from the crown. No members of the clan may wear or display anything indicating their former clan affiliation, including but not limited to symbols, heraldry, traditional clan slogans or battlecries, or the clan’s traditional colors.” She smiled, though there was no warmth in it. “You will also need to change your name.” (1)
1: The laws restricting clan identity would be relaxed several times, and ultimately repealed once enough time had passed that the prospect of the disbanded clans reconstituting and launching a new rebellion faded away.
They would not e’en let me keep my name?! The only thing Sunbeam could have done to more thoroughly end my clan would be to send every last member to the executioner’s block.
Noble nodded grimly. “If a knightly order raised their weapons against their queen, they would be disbanded. I see no reason the clans shouldn’t suffer the same fate.”
Greenwall grunted. “Will that happen to all the clans, then?”
“All those who are in open rebellion against the crown,” Sunbeam confirmed, nodding to Gale. “Naturally, the Kickers will be rewarded for their loyalty. As for the Stalkers...” She shrugged. “They were late in returning to the crown and did so for the wrong reasons, but they might well play a key role in winning the war for us. That should earn them a reprieve.”
All the clans, save two? This was the end of Pegasopolis ... which was no doubt precisely what she wanted. We had risen against Celestia, and Sunbeam aimed to ensure that we would ne’er do so again. I had expected Celestia would do something to prevent another uprising, but this... “Is there not another way? Have the clan leaders appointed by the crown, insist they swear loyalty oaths and atone for their actions, raise the clan’s children as hostages in Canterlot, anything?!”
“I have spoken on the matter,” Celestia declared with awful finality. “I believe that concludes our business. I bid you all good day.”
Noble bowed to the throne. “By your leave, Your Majesty.” Greenwall followed close on his heels. I was much slower in leaving the room, the weight of my sins and the terrible price Celestia had exacted for them all but crushing me.
A part of me could not even grasp the sheer enormity of it. Mine entire life ... everything I was from my very first memories ... it had all been part of the clan. Now ‘twas not only gone, but I was not e’en allowed to keep anything to remember it by. Doubtless they would see e’en a small memento or two as a sign I planned to rebuild the clan and turn it against the crown.
I did not leave the throne room until Gale all but pulled me out. I stumbled forward like one of the undead, my body scarcely remembering how to function.
Gale’s voice tore me out of my stupor. “Thank you for your assistance, Archmagus.”
I turned to face the both of them. “Why did you defend me?” I aimed the question at Sunbeam more than Gale, though in truth I was curious how both would answer.
In any case, Sunbeam was the one to answer me. “It is as I said. You live because I want to win the war, and killing you would impede that. If ‘twere merely a matter of my personal desires, with no thought to the good of Equestria...” A cruel smile formed on her lips. “Neigh, e’en then I think I would let thee live. I saw the look in thine eyes when Gale led thee into the courtroom. Thou wert prepared to die for thy crimes, nobly lay down thy life in hopes of sparing thy sister and finding in death the redemption that will fore’er elude thee in life.” She chuckled coldly. “Celestia said she was giving thee mercy when she spared thee. I think she was mistaken in that regard. Killing thee would be the true mercy. Instead, thou shalt live to see thy clan broken, thy family in tatters, and for all the rest of thy days thou wilt know that ‘tis because of thee. I could spend hours drawing out thy death, but this torment shall last a lifetime. I can think of no better fate to condemn thee to.”
She stepped past me, as if I were naught but an insect beneath her notice. I certainly felt as pitiful as one.
I turned to Gale. “And you?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You spared me considerable unpleasantness when the rebels captured me. There was a debt of honor to be repaid, and unlike you I value my honor. The matter is closed, and I am glad to be quit of you.”
She began to walk away, but I felt compelled to call out after her. “Gale! I ... I lied to you about my defection, my loyalties, and many other things. When I spoke of my feelings for you ... there was no lie in that.”
She turned to face me, her countenance an expressionless mask. ‘Twas some time ere she spoke, and when she did her voice was heavy with restrained emotion. “I believe you. That makes the pain of your betrayal all the keener.” She turned her back on me, I suspect because she could not bear to look at me any longer. “And ... after everything you have done I would be well within my rights to hate you. I should hate you e’en more keenly than Sunbeam or Noble. I think ... I think a part of me does. But another part is ... I did not wish to see you die. Not because of duty or honor or obligation, but...” She did not finish the sentence, but I grasped her meaning well enough. Despite her best efforts to hide it, I heard the faintest hint of tears in her voice. “That is the greatest pain of all. That despite everything...”
On any other day, knowing of her feelings might have been a comfort in dark times. Today, it just felt like another dagger rammed into my heart.
With the trial done, I returned to quarters I had been given ere I betrayed Celestia, though the guard outside my door was a new addition. It felt strange to return to the place, almost exactly as I had left it. The personal effects taken from me when I was arrested waited on a table, save for my weapons and armor. Those would likely ne’er be returned to me, given the laws Sunbeam intended to oppose on the clans. Clearly I would need to find some other profession.
I fell onto a bed far more comfortable than the dungeon cell I had occupied for the last several days, and soon fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
It seemed like my head had only just settled upon the pillow when I heard voice outside my door. I could not make out what they were saying, but it seemed reasonably likely that they concerned me in some way. I rose from bed and made a few token efforts to appear at least somewhat presentable in case my visitor was someone important.
Shadow’s squire strode into my quarters a short time later, shutting the door behind her. “Dusk Charger! Present thyself!”
I entered the living area and walked up to the young mare, already suspecting her reason for being here. “Do you have a message from Shadow?”
She glowered at me. “Neigh, I am here of mine own accord.” I fully expected the blow she struck across my cheek, rolling with it by instinct. “Dusk Charger, thou hast wronged me and my family. I demand satisfaction from thee in juris ungula!”
A duel. I thought of pointing out that she was going against her queen’s wishes, but she doubtless knew that already. This was a matter of family honor, something I was all too familiar with after mine own errors. “I decline.”
“You ... decline?” Her fury briefly faded into bewilderment before multiplying tenfold. “You killed my brother, and slew my sister and her unborn foal with an act of perfidity. I demand satisfaction. Arm yourself!”
“I will not.” I sighed and spoke words I doubted she was in any mood to hear. “I know ‘twill not make up for all that I have done, but you have my deepest apologies.”
Several emotions flashed across White’s face before she settled upon outrage. “You apologize?! After all you have done, all the lives you have stolen, you think a few empty words have any meaning? You could apologize from now to the end of time, and ‘twould not begin to make up for all the evil you have done.”
“I know.” I sighed and bowed my head. “If you want my life, I have no right to deny it to you.”
White drew a blade and hurled it at my hooves. “Then arm yourself and face me in battle. ‘Tis a more honorable death than you deserve, but ‘tis still a death.”
I sighed and picked it up. White drew her own in response, leveling the point at me. “Ready yourself, fiend.”
I made no effort to do so. “Go ahead.”
White jabbed at me, and I made a token effort to parry the blow. The match continued for a short time, but only because White seemed to suspect my near-total failure to defend myself must be some sort of ruse. Once mine intent was plain, she hurled her blade down with a frustrated roar. “Do you mock me?! Fight, damn you!”
Did she truly want to face me in battle? If so, I could not grant her request. The very thought of truly fighting her filled me with disgust, and as I looked at the young mare who wanted me dead, all I could feel was terrible remorse for mine actions, and pity for her. “I will not fight you. I have hurt you and your family enough already.” I dropped the blade to the floor.
“Pick it up!” She demanded. “Have you no honor?!”
“No,” I confessed.
White roared in wounded fury, charging me with her blade outstretched. I fully expected her to cut me down, but her blade halted inches from my throat. Frustrated tears sprang to life in her eyes, and she hurled the weapon away. “Damn you! Damn you to the lower pit of Tartarus! You are a coward, a traitor, and the lowest of all villains!” She stomped away from me, picking up her blade and cleaving it through one of the tables with an enraged howl. “You have taken everything else away from me, and now I cannot e’en have my vengeance?!”
I knew I should say something. Perhaps some profound words of wisdom that would sweep away her pain and let her make peace with the deaths that had fallen upon her family. I knew the pain of losing a beloved sibling all too well. There were no words that could cure the agony I had inflicted upon her, though I dearly wished there were.
I spoke honestly, for it was all I could do. “The deaths I have caused haunt me, and I will ne’er forgive myself for the terrible cost of my mistakes. If my death could restore your brother to life, I would gladly make that trade.”
White’s legs trembled beneath her, and she sank down into one of the chairs ere they failed completely. “What have we done to deserve this? My brother and his wife were good ponies. Why did they have to die? Why did you have to start this horrid war?”
I sighed and took the seat opposite her, for I was far too weary to stand any longer. “We thought we were doing the right thing. I believed I was fighting for a better Equestria. Bringing honor to my family. Saving my mother from certain death...”
“‘Doing the right thing’?” White repeated incredulously. “Does this feel like the right thing?! Does this feel like justice?!”
“No,” I admitted. “Nothing about this is right.”
White sank down in her seat, staring at the table. “What am I supposed to do now? My brother is dead ... for nothing.” She shook her head and threw one last glare at me, though ‘twas not nearly so heated as her prior looks. “I hope that you live in the pain and infamy you deserve, Dusk the Clanless. I will not kill an unarmed and unresisting stallion, but do not mistake this for forgiveness. There are no words you can speak, no eloquent apology you can offer, that will e’er diminish the horror of your crimes.”
“I know.” I sighed and rose from my chair. “But it is the only thing I can offer you. I am sorry.”
I walked out of the room, leaving her there.
I sought out the only thing of value left to me in this world. My sister. As Gale had promised, she was being held within the palace in far better quarters than I had enjoyed. One might have mistaken her for an honored guest if they did not realize that the guards outside her door were jailers. As Gale had sent word ahead of me, and they let me pass.
Dawn lay upon a simple mattress in quarters that were relatively bare by unicornian standards, likely something that had belonged to a servant before it became her cell. Her back was to the door, and she did not turn to face me when I entered. A bowl of stew sat untouched on the table, cold enough that it must have been there for some time.
I cleared my throat. “Dawn? ‘Tis I.”
My sister’s head snapped up, and she spun about to face me. “Dusk? Thou .... Thou art alive?” She clambered out of bed and rushed to my side, wrapping me in a fierce embrace. We held each other for a time, ere she broke it and backed away from me. “Art thou ... this is a final visit before they take thee to the execution field, aye? At least they allowed us that much: I feared I would ne’er e’en be able to bid thee farewell.”
I shook my head and hugged her again. “No, Dawn. The trial is finished, and ... we will live.”
Dawn blinked, her jaw hanging open in shock. “What? That is ... I cannot believe it. Truly? That is ... it seems impossible. Like something from a dream. I was certain that I would lose thee as well.”
I wondered if she would still be so happy when she learned the rest of it. “I think we owe our lives to the Stalkers. Celestia’s forces need them for the coming battle, and killing us might turn the Stalkers against them. But ... that mercy came at a price. Neither of us can lead the clan, and it seems ... that Celestia no longer believes...” I struggled to find the right words, for nothing I could think to say captured the enormity of the sentence passed ‘gainst us.
The barest ghost of a smile had begun to grace Dawn’s lips, but it faded away as she gazed upon my countenance. “What? What did she do?”
“I am...” I closed mine eyes and took a deep breath to steady my nerves. “Celestia and her advisors no longer trust me to lead the clan. Worse, it seems I have persuaded them that they cannot rely on any former rebels to lead the clans once the war is done.”
Dawn frowned, her head slowly cocking to the side. “That is madness. Every clan has its head, ‘tis the way of things. I suppose ‘tis not surprising they do not wish for thee to lead, but ... do they think to name Shield then? I know the unicorns sometimes appoint children to their noble houses, but if they think the clan would follow that ... neigh, ‘twould have to be someone else from within the clan. But who? All our officers remained loyal to mother. I suppose a common soldier or two might have defected earlier in the war, but they could hardly lead the clan. Without a strong leader, the clan would cease to exist!”
I sighed and mine eyes fell to the floor. “Precisely.”
Dawn staggered back as though struck as the full weight of my words sank home. “Neigh. That ... no. She cannot...”
“She has.” I settled next to her. “We will need to decide upon new names. I would suggest thou speakest with Shadow. Thy sire was of her clan, and mayhaps—”
“Never.” Dawn snatched one of the pillows off her bed, hugging it to her chest. “Let them hang me if they please, but I will live my life a Charger. I will not dishonor the memory of our sister and brothers by abandoning our name, or by taking the name of Lance’s killer.”
I suppose I should have expected she would say as much. Pity, for life would be kinder to Dawn Kicker than it would be to the same mare under any other name. “I admit, when they announced the sentence I was tempted to ask for the axe instead.”
Dawn could not meet mine eyes as she asked. “Perhaps ... I hate to speak such cruel words, but why didst thou not?”
I grimaced and shook my head. “Because the clans would be broken regardless of our fate. The simple fact that the clans were able to oppose the throne and nearly break it proves that we are far too powerful. Once the war is done, Celestia and Sunbeam will not allow the clans to exist in any form that could rise up again.”
“But we must endure!” Dawn insisted, though I could see in her eyes that she knew her words were futile. “We must ... for all that we have lost, there must be something more than ... than...”
“We have our lives, and each other,” I told her, wrapping a wing around her. “That is something. I feared that I had signed thy death warrant by leading thee into perfidy with me. Knowing that I still have my sister ... I do not think I could endure this alone.”
She leaned against me, though more out of exhaustion than affection. “I wish thou hadst slain me. ‘Twould have been kinder.” Her eyes fell to the ground, and her voice came out almost dull and lifeless. “This is ... this my doing. If I had saved Lance, she would have brokered a truce, and Mother would not ... none of this would have happened. It is ... it is all my fault.”
I grimaced and shook my head. “If I had not gone along with the Avatar’s scheme and damned us both in Celestia’s eyes ... If Mother had not given into temptation and become the Avatar ... if ... I think there is blame enough for many to share in it.”
“Perhaps.” Neither of us said anything for some time, holding one another as we tried to grasp how far we had fallen. “What will we do?”
“I do not know,” I confessed.
“I hope thou canst find something to bring thee joy.” She tried to smile, but we were both far too miserable for her to make a convincing show of it. “I do not suppose Celestia will grant another audience this day?”
“I am sure you could ask for one.” I sighed. “Howe’er I do not believe she will change her mind.”
“Neigh, likely not.” She slumped against me. “I would simply ask her for an end. If that is to be our fate, I do not wish to live to see it.”
“Dawn ... no.” I gripped her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “I will not lose thee. I have buried our mother, our brothers, and our sister. I will not bury thee too. Do not leave me alone in this world, sister.”
“I cannot endure this.” She met my gaze, her eyes so dead she could not e’en muster tears. “Please let me go.”
“Do not ask that of me.” I clutched her to my chest. “E’en if we have lost everything else, we still have one another. Shield too, if we can recover him from the rebels.”
Dawn slowly put her head on my shoulder, letting me hold her. “I would welcome thy company if thou wouldst stay for a time.” She nodded to her untouched meal. “The fare is cooled, but it should taste well enough. I am not hungry.”
Even cold, the sight of the stew my sister had neglected tempted me. It had been far too long since I had enjoyed a proper meal. Even when the dungeon guards did not make sport of wasting my meals, gruel was hardly satisfying. I sat at the table and attacked her meal with gusto. On any other day I likely would have considered it to be of middling quality at best, but I was hungry enough to enjoy it. Indeed, that meal brought me the first joy I had known since mine imprisonment, howe’er fleeting it was.
If a single miserable bowl of stew could make me happy, perhaps not all was lost. My clan lay in tatters, the legacy of mine ancestors lost, but ... I could still find joy in life’s simple pleasures. A small comfort, but better than none. “We will survive this, sister.”
“So we will.” She sighed and settled back onto the bed, rolling onto her side. “So we will.”