A heavily armored train blew over the deep black abyss of ice. In the distance, enormous patrolling aircraft rumbled with their quad sets of engines, brilliant spotlights scouring the endless ice for prey.
Near the back of the train, Governor Full Spectrum stormed into her personal luxury car. Two servants were inside, one was filling a lamp with oil, and another fluffing a pillow. “Out! Get out!” The governor barked. They immediately fled.
She tracked the one with the lamp oil. “Why are you running away with the oil!? Is the lamp full?” she snapped at the unfortunate maid.
“N-no m'am,” came a fumbling reply.
“Then when I tell you to leave, leave the oil bottle so I can finish filling it. Now get out!” She held out a hoof. The maid set down the small bottle and scurried off.
Spectrum sighed. “Sorry.” She made no effort to make herself heard as she apologized to the departed servants. I'm normally never this mean to servants. Ugh. Just not my day.
She trotted back and finished filling the lamp. After setting the oil down on a small coffee table, she flopped onto a plush, luxurious red pillow. She listened to the hypnotizing, rhythmic clanking of the train tracks for a short, blissful while of losing herself in the soft pillows and mesmerizing music of the metal. She yawned and sat up again, slowly changing into a night gown.
The upshot of rail travel. All this time just to myself...
When she finished changing, she walked over to an intercom box and clicked it on. “Kitchen, bring me the finest bottle of red wine on this train.”
“Order on the way m'am!” the intercom crackled back.
She flopped back onto the pillow and rested her head on her forelegs. What a day. Rail delays, last-minute checks with Nightgale, and that miracle of a stunt with that unicorn – Twilight. Maybe Alicorn.
She quietly gloated to herself. Ah, yes. It's wonderful how oblivious the guards can be when they're not allowed to ask questions. Never mind the coffin-sized box. Never mind us hiding the unicorn behind curtains. I'm your governor, if I say the box is full of interrogation equipment, it's full of interrogation equipment, no questions allowed!
Then we change the guards out, tell them they're to pretend there's a unicorn, and anyone trying to piece the story together will have conflicting reports.
Damn that was stupid, though. If – no, when – when Icewind catches wind of that, I'm a dead pony. She's in on the executing lookalikes, but whisking away a real, captured unicorn? This is a whole new level of nonsense. Hopefully she'll believe the real alicorn died in captivity. What other conclusion could she draw?
Jewel's parting words echoed in her mind. Not that I'm not a dead pony, already. Didn't she say she'd work with somepony else? Maybe that's why I did it. What does it matter that Icewind finds out I'm hiding a unicorn at this point? I'm sure to die soon. At least I might answer my question, first, and find out if alicorns actually exist or not.
She closed her eyes, letting herself fall victim to the hypnotic trance of the train's clanking. She started with her ears, and worked down her entire body, probing each muscle for tension, then relaxing them as far as she could.
A knock on the door ripped her out of her rest.
“Wine, m'am?”
She groaned, got on her hooves, and walked over to the door. As her hoof grabbed the handle, she remembered how uncharacteristically rude she'd been to the maids. She opened the door and fired a quick; “Thankyou” grabbed the wine, and closed it again.
She froze as she realized she'd forgotten to grab the glass. Sighing, she decided she'd rather not approach the servant again, and after opening the bottle, took a sip straight from it as she walked back to the coffee table.
As she set the drink on the table, and her stomach on the pillow, she started thinking again.
Why aren't I more scared about my impending death? Do I not really believe it? Have I just always known and lived with the risk? No, I guess I've just seen so many executions I never thought maybe I'd be on the other end of them.
She took another sip and sighed.
Summer... To think the dead have it so regularly. And that at one point in our own history it came for months, every twelve. A warm sun, blue sky, and grassy fields.
She shook her head.
No, I've got too much to live for. I have to keep Sunfeather safe. I have to keep The Order of The Vanguard alive and strong. I don't trust Icewind in my place when I'm gone, or anyone else, for that matter.
She took another sip.
I have to use this chance to prove she's a fake in some way. I'll have to be careful how I go about this, though. But I need to prove those wings aren't hers, or they were made with some magic trick, or anything – anything but her being a true alicorn!
And if she is...
Instead of taking another modest sip, she took a large gulp, then set the bottle down as she flopped into an even more relaxed pose with another sigh.
But I can't make the citizens of The Order pay. I can't. I must be loyal to them. They don't deserve to pay for my own inadequacies, and my failures to do what I'm sworn to...
Since I was little, dad would tell me how he kept the ponies safe and warm against the cold outside. I saw how he held rallies full of ponies that adored him.
There was nopony like him. Nobody could match his heroism in my eyes. I've always known I wanted to do what he did, to hold the very world together.
I didn't fully understand what it meant when he told me that becoming a governor was a choice, and I would have to decide whether I wanted to feel good about myself, or if I wanted to serve The Order of the Hatten Vanguard and be the hero he had been.
Nothing could have prepared me. All those years where he gave me his time to teach me what he'd learned, how he taught me to be the best I could be. He kept teaching me how sometimes, doing what's right would involve doing things I would abhor. And he lost enthusiasm after awhile. In later years he even regretted encouraging me to become governor. He apologized every time I asked him to talk to me again, and begged me to change my course in life.
But how could I? After all those years, after adoring him so much for what he'd done, I wanted to be just like him. He would simply warn me that if I became a governor, ghosts would haunt me.
I should've listened. I never could've known what it would actually be like.
She groaned, and took another chug.
Why can't I stop thinking about this? Train rides are wonderful because they're a time to relax. A time apart from everything else. But I need to plan for the future. I can't just get myself drunk here...
I should just let it go. This is crazy, this is insane – I can make up for the alicorn being gone from the prison if I can show Icewind a body. So I'll make one. I already know Twilight's a unicorn, those wings are just some dumb show!
Because what if she's real, huh? Then all those ponies dead, because of the stricter policies...
She started to shake, picturing again the mass executions. The busy courtyards with their great gallows, turning prisoners into corpses with a sickly, mechanical efficiency. Yet it still wasn't enough for the sheer numbers of ponies arrested for the various forms of sedition, treason, consorting and cooperation with unicorns. No, what they had wasn't the truth, they HAD to be silenced! They were traitors who would've killed us all with their terrible ideas!
She looked up from the floor. Her gaze went far beyond the wall of her luxurious room. But then what does that mean? That it takes so much murder... So much death of stallions, mares, colts and fillies... Just to keep the world alive? Does such a world even deserve to live?
Tears welled in her eyes.
Is that it, then? Either the world is so horrible that exterminations are necessary, so it should end – or they weren't, and...
And all of that was for nothing?
She was startled by her next thought.
Celestia and Luna. The Stewardesses of this world. Rejected as our rulers. What kind of paradise could this world be if only we had allowed them to reign, as their parents intended?
That's one of the things the Ceruleans believe. It's in Clover the Clever's journal. That this world would see daylight once more, and the “princess of the sun” would return if we just stopped fighting. That would mean we really brought this on ourselves. And if the Windigos really do bring winter, as the Ceruleans claim, it all comes full circle and makes sense.
She looked upward.
Not only would it mean I didn't help ponykind survive the winter... It would mean I'm part of the cause of it.
She shivered at the thought, then cursed herself for having ever read the book – the very book which reading it is a capital offense... Maybe I do deserve the gallows.
She shook her head.
There's no way it's true, though! Just a lie spread by the Ceruleans to justify their overthrow of The Order. It's all just a lie to empower them...
She paused, looking at the bottle, and took another drink.
Maybe I should drink. Maybe then I'll have the strength to do what I should've done all along. If I can't think I can't stop myself from killing that wretched monster. That unicorn pretending to be an alicorn!
If I'm not safe then I can't protect Sunfeather. I didn't take her on this trip just to have her die. No, I'll kill the unicorn, have a body to show Icewind if she thinks I'm protecting a unicorn, and I'm staying on top of this political game to keep myself and her alive!
She took another drink.
Every step was agony. The ice was as hard as it was bitter cold. Every time Rarity put weight on her injured hoof, even through lots of soft padding, she groaned in pain and limped. She struggling to keep up with Snowglade who led in front of her – though in the deep darkness of the eternal night she had difficulty even seeing her at times, even though she was just a few yards ahead.
As they had put on the many warm layers of clothing, packed their tent and supplies and finally set out, she hadn't seen any of the Vanguard patrols that were supposedly hunting for them, but they assured her there was good reason they refused to use any lights. They had even chosen to “deploy” on this patrol during a new moon so the world was as dark as possible to hide them.
Looking up, she saw nothing but more darkness. No sunlight had been waiting outside the tent. A permanent veil of cloud and smog hid the heavens, meaning even the starlight was mostly shrouded away.
But ever onwards, she fought forward in her thick, burdensome winter gear. I haven't come this far to give up – they said they'd take me to some bastion. We just have to make it there. Now that she thought about it, she realized she had no idea what they were even doing out here – only that there was some “task” they said they still had to do. And how long until we get wherever you are going, anyways?
Again and again came the sharp, stabbing pangs with each step on her front-right hoof. The pain seemed to grow each time until her entire foreleg was buzzing with the feeling. I – I'll be strong for you, this time, Sweetie Belle. Maybe you're not Snowglade, but you're still here, somewhere, and surely, surely I can save you, right?
I'll be – I'll be wise enough this time. And strong enough, too! For you!
Despite every pained step, the thick winter clothing was some small comfort with its bulkiness. It had an odd kind of appeal. Rarity had never known a need for anything like it. A winter day in this world felt like a serrated blade of ice compared to Equestria's relatively mild chills.
She assumed she would've despised the warm clothing, since it came from a world she hated to be in. Yet, its plushness felt like a continual warm hug when contrasted with the unearthly frozen wasteland, and brutality of the ponies who had hunted her. It stood out like a bit of pink fabric against a dark blue dress.
And it was special, too. Whatever her mixed opinions of these ponies were, they had saved her life. They had nursed her back to health, and kept her warm and well. In comparison to what the ponies elsewhere had almost done, the sergeant's uncouth roughness meant little.
Her injured leg failed her, and she fell onto the ice.
“Granduer!” Snowglade gave a whispered shout and darted back to her.
She could barely see her, but she could feel her help her sit up all the same. She – she really is a lot bigger than I remember her.
I guess she's old enough to be a soldier of some kind...
“Are you okay?” her little sister asked, her voice full of worry. “Can you keep going?”
“Y-yes. Of course. Of course I can!” she breathed out. Her voice was far better than last night, but still raspy. She clambered back onto all fours, only to find herself crying out when she tried to walk with her injured hoof, a foreleg from Snowglade flinging out to help stabalize her.
“Just – just a three-leg walk, I can do that.” She began the awkward gait, stumbling as much as moving.
“Alright, let's try this for a minute, I'll be next to Rarity,” the younger pony gave a hushed call to the pony in front of them in the column, Clockwork. He was a pegasus who had been on sentry duty outside when Rarity had first woken up, so she knew him even less than the sergeant.
They started forward again with the awkward hobble, the two sort-of sisters now by each other's sides as they walked. “Can't we slow down at all?” Rarity asked in a whisper.
“No, we're dangerously close to a dome right now, we've got to get further away,” she simply stated with a shake of her head. “If you can't keep up, we'll just have to...”
“Leave me behind?” she asked darkly.
“No!” Snowglade objected.
“But... if I'm really going to just hold everypony back, you can't just...”
“We're not doing that, end of story. We'll figure something else out...” Her tone wasn't entirely certain.
“Oh, Snowglade... You always strive for the best. You really believe the best in everypony. But... The way the sergeant was talking, I'm honestly a bit scared...” she whispered in an even more hushed tone. “Are you really certain he wouldn't leave me behind?”
“I -...” she caught herself and stopped. “He's had a hard past. I... I don't honestly know. But...” she hesitated again.
“What?” she eagerly pressed the younger pony.
She just looked up at Grandeur, thinking for a moment before continuing. “What would you do if you had to choose in-between the lives of some random ponies you stumbled across, who probably hate you, or the safety of a few ponies you love?” she asked.
“I – I don't know. What ever is this you're talking about?”
She felt Snowglade gently press her to walk a bit faster, but she struggled with her odd 3-legged gait.
“He was on a patrol like this once, when he came across some young civilians, about my age. They didn't have a lot of options. Really they had to pick in-between killing them and letting them go. They let them go, and everyone he cared about, that he was supposed to protect...”
“...was captured?” she reluctantly guessed. The world had set a clear pattern, though.
“And executed. Or were killed directly. Through no fault of his own, really. I'm really not even supposed to know this...” her voice tapered off. “But, I think you should know he won't let you die. When given the choice he'd risk everything to save you. He's proven it. You can trust him to look out for you.”
She muled over what she'd been told, carefully processing what it meant about him. And how it might affect him. “Maybe – do you know if he regrets what happened? Maybe it means the exact opposite...” she fretted, feeling her heart freeze in her chest.
Her little sister took a minute before answering, “I – I don't think so? He's very, very strong-willed, I don't think... He certainly wouldn't be-...” she cut herself off and bit her lip. “I – I'd stand up for you, just please, walk a little faster...”
“Shh!” came from behind them with Gratitude's voice. They immediately realized their volume had gradually slid up as they'd talked.
She tried to hurry her pace, but it was even harder than the limping. Every time she had to step forward with her front leg it was a little hop.
She felt a small hoof fling back across her chest, stopping her in place, then push her down. She obeyed Snowglade's nudges and flopped down on her stomach.
She heard it long before she saw it. A tremendous roaring sound, some horrendous mix of the buzzing of a swarm of hornets and the roaring of a manticore, but as deep and powerful as thunder. The sound gradually faded in, then she finally saw obscured points of light, then big glows move from the right side of her vision to her left as the sound crescendoed and faded away again, disappearing back into the darkness.
“What-” a boot stuffed her mouth as soon as she'd opened it. So she listened. After a long, painful minute of terrified silence, she heard pegasi wings flapping, then the sound finally passed.
Hoofsteps rushed up to meet them with an urgent, whispering voice, “Gratitude!” It was the sergeant. “Sound off, all three, keep it low and stay put!”
“Gratitude, here!”
“Snowglade, here!”
“Clockwork, here!”
“Grandeur?”
“Right here!” she matched the intense and strained, but still whispering voices the others had used.
“Clockwork, Snowglade, Grandeur's the reason we're going so slow?” he asked.
“Yessir,” the pegasus answered.
“Y-yes, sir.” Snowglade's reply was far more hesitant.
“Put these on,” the sergeant's voice came again, immediately followed by more steps from him, some ruffling with bags and straps, and three thuds in sequence as he handed bags off to the three other members of their team.
“Grandeur, come here and climb on,” he ordered.
She hesitantly approached his voice until she could finally make out his form in the darkness. He sat low, offering his back.
“Come on, it's this or we leave your corpse behind, your call,” he urged her.
She recoiled at the threat. “Excuse me!?” she whispered hoarsely.
“Do it, Grandeur!” Snowglade urged her.
She stepped forward and sat sideways on the stallion's back, only for him to bump her off.
“No, straddle it, you've got to hold on tight! Sit up right behind my neck, like a piggyback ride!”
It was the sort of violation of personal and private space only Pinkie could get away with. She stiffened as she imagined climbing into such an awkward pose on a pony she hardly knew and had just made mention of murdering her.
But with her and Snowglade's lives on the line, she simply plunged through the brick wall of her hesitation and jumped on. She gripped tight to stay on as he shot up, whispered back, “Now move it, let's go!” to his team and began galloping ahead.
"What's going on!? What was that?" she asked as she clung on.
"Search aircraft, we have to pierce the search pattern now or they'll be right on top of us!" The sergeant replied, somehow keeping his voice low despite the gallop.
She had no idea what piercing the search pattern meant, but it was obvious it involved galloping. The entire time they'd been quieter than a whisper, but now, though the soft boots muffled the gallop, apparently their life depended on being fast.
Although she had to hold on to survive, and he'd just threatened her life, in one way she was relieved.
She couldn't walk as they needed her to. It had come down to it, but instead of just leaving her behind, he'd chosen to put himself in a humiliating position and carry all of her weight.
And none of the ponies had said a word of complaint on carrying extra weight on behalf of her. None had even groaned or sighed. It was an automatic reflex and a matter-of-fact. There was no debate or discussion. They were going to get her to Bastion alive, even if she was just dead weight they had to literally carry.
Despite his threat, she knew he was risking all of their lives for her, even if the same choice had failed him in the past. They were going to get her to bastion.
Just as soon as they did whatever their “task” was.