“Sharpened Sword, major general of the eleventh pony division!”
Sharpened Sword rose from his seat and trotted out of his row and onto the stage, uniform comfortable against his fur and yet making him itch to escape it. Even though the outfit was made of what he was sure were the best of materials stitched together by the best of tailors, beads of sweat began to form underneath it as the gaze of Her Imperial Majesty burned into him, eyes almost hungry. He pointedly avoided her gaze, in fact avoided anyones gaze, and focused on acting as if this was any other tradition, giving himself a thousand-yard stare and sitting on the stage in front of a well-groomed announcer.
Her Imperial Majesty rose from her seat at the back of the stage and, with grace unheard of, moved forward, stopping at Sharpened Sword. With a sickeningly sweet smile, the kind of smile only the most evil of creatures would muster up in a disgusting attempt to appear civil, she reached out with her magic and grabbed onto the first of the medals that the announcer held over his head as he bowed; a Distinguished Service Order. Swallowing his fear as her eyes burned into him, almost triggering prey instincts from eons past, he bowed his neck - as was tradition - and allowed her to slide the medal over his neck before she let it go slack and her smile somehow became slightly more menacing, his poker face just about keeping intact as she turned away from him and faced the crowd before them.
“Sharpened Sword has been in service of the Equestrian Army for almost two decades, and is now one of few that has smoothly transitioned into his role in the Imperial Army. It was during the first changeling invasion that he proved his mettle as a colonel, being one of those few who managed to halt the changelings until they could be finally defeated,” spoke the alicorn, mane raging behind her, an inferno waiting to happen, “and later during The Great War he once more proved himself to have a tactical acumen like no other, repelling the changelings twice; once at Tall Tale, which some say was the end of the Changeling push, and once at an offensive from Acornage that ended with a counter-offensive that lent the city back to its rightful owners and pushed the bugs out of Equestria once and for all!”
As she finished, cheers erupting, likely music to her ears but a discordant cacophony of noise celebrating what may as well be a pyrrhic victory considering who now ruled their once wonderful, harmonious nation, she turned to Sharpened Sword. His heart skipped a beat and he took a quick breath, something that she took as positive breathlessness but was sheer, utter fear; ‘Though, to her, they may very well be one in the same,’ he thought as he managed to bring himself to look her in the eyes and do his best at standing tall and proud as she announced he would be receiving the Distinguished Service Order.
He felt sick as the medal slid onto his neck. He had fought for Equestria and Celestia, not this mockery of a country and this disgusting portrait of an alicorn. Then she turned back to the crowd, smile seeming perhaps slightly more genuine and serene, that of the Princess Celestia he had once known - ‘Some of her true self is leaking through.’ He thought to himself.
“Not only this, but Sharpened Sword willingly dove into battle himself with the eleventh division during the battle of Acornage; when the battle seemed nearly lost, he decided to lead his division from the battlefield, indeed racking up many exterminations himself and diving in front of a bullet for not one, not two, but three of his soldiers; the eleventh pony division,” the monster in pony skin and fur spoke, turning to him slowly, that smile making him only slightly less uncomfortable, “has naught but praise to sing for their leader.”
She levitated an Invicta Cross, the highest award available, and he bowed his head. He felt the medal slide over his neck and heard the ponies present clap. As soon as he was dismissed, he trotted carefully back to his seat, many ponies gazing at him; some with a twinge of jealousy, but most with respect.
He was careful because he didn’t want to rush. Empress Daybreaker trusted him. He wanted to keep that. The trust of a tyrant was a valuable thing; to lose it was dangerous.
He felt sick, and his thoughts drifted as the ceremony continued.
“Congratulations, Sword! I never knew you had it in you!” Laughed Detailed Defeat, wrapping her hooves around him and giving him a quick nuzzle before pulling away, a bright smile adorning her face. He was still unsure as to whether or not she supported Daybreaker or did not; those who had made it too obvious had been taken somewhere, never to be seen again. He was lucky to be able to keep his composure and act like he supported her.
He suspected those that had been unable to do so had been executed.
He shot her a weak smile. “Thanks, Detail.” He said, feeling queasy; just the presence of Daybreaker made him feel weak, and he knew she was still in the room, going around and complimenting a few of the people in the room. He could only hope she wouldn’t target him; but with his achievements, he sincerely doubted that. He was just waiting for an opportunity to leave. He didn’t want to leave first - he knew it was likely paranoia, but something inside him, a raging fear, told him that leaving first would attract unwanted attention.
The mare shot him a look. He was going to shoot his shot with her when the Great War started, but now they were different ponies. He found himself repulsed at the idea of relations. A voice told him he had much more important things to do. “You seem a bit off,” she said, voice laced with a subtext of worry and care, “are you okay? Feeling sick?”
Sword strengthened his smile. He needed to seem fine. The paranoia eating at his insides said to appear strong, to appear as if all was okay, as if Daybreaker was acceptable. “Slightly queasy, yes, but I think that’s just the nerves. Official ceremonies like this never quite were my thing; kind of anxious, especially in the presence of Her Imperial Majesty.”
He had spoken too quickly. He was unsure about how she would take that, but she seemed to laugh it off easily; “The presence of Empress Daybreaker is a glorious thing, isn’t it?”
No, it wasn’t. Before he could reply - in a way that, furthermore, he was sure would incriminate him - he felt a searing heat behind him and he spun on his fetlocks to face Daybreaker, who stood tall before him, slitted eyes focused on him and mouth curved upwards into a smile of deadly beauty. Celestia had been beautiful, yes, but Daybreaker acknowledged and used that further than Celestia ever would, even with her warped form borne of the sheer amount of solar energy she harnessed constantly. A femme fatale, truly.
He bowed clumsily, and she tittered at him. He felt embarrassed. Detailed Defeat had seemed to immediately slink away; whether in fear or knowing that Daybreaker likely wanted to talk to him and him alone, he wasn’t sure.
“Rise, major general.” She purred, and so did he rise, though he still tried his best to appear respectful. He had a small feeling he came off more as meek.
“My Empress,” he said, voice filled with fake confidence, “I must thank you for these two medals you have deemed fit to hand out to me.”
He had slipped too quickly into the role. Daybreaker surely believed him, but he felt disgusted with himself. Betrayed and repulsed by his own quickness to turn to loyalty to this fake Celestia.
“Sharpened Sword - may I call you Sword,” she didn’t stop speaking and he only gave a curt nod, “it is I who must thank you. Your efforts against the changelings pests was truly stellar, and all reports I have managed to read or be told of concerning Acornage and Tall Tale have naught but praise to you. Why, Sword, I dare say we may have lost the war were it not for you!”
A grin adorned her face. Not a smile, a grin. She expected him to laugh. He gave her the laugh that she wanted - just long enough to please her, short enough not to make him feel yet sicker with himself. “I do only what is ordered of me for the Solar Empire, my Goddess.”
The word ‘goddess’ seemed to make her brighten, if only slightly. Every fiber of his being hated referring to her as that, but it mattered not. “In all honesty, Sharpened Sword,” she began, before pausing, a flicker of kindness returning to her before evaporating in the solar heat, “I consider you to be one of my most trusted military leaders. You may lead only one division now, but I believe a promotion is in the works if you keep showing yourself to be loyal and competent.”
At this she seemed to lean in; it may have seemed kind to any other pony, but to him, it was more of a leer than anything. A few more minutes of idle chatter in which he began to feel sicker and sicker ended with Daybreaker bidding him adieu; “I see another one of our prestigious veterans of the war, and I shouldn’t spend all my time speaking with only one person - even if you are a wonderful conversationalist, Sword.”
The compliment almost made him throw up. He managed to avoid anyone else and slink out of the event without notice. He needed to relax. Screw the paranoia, he needed out.
He had gone home and stripped out of his official clothing and laid his medals carelessly on his bed before heading a few blocks down to a bar he had often frequented before the war, The Neon Mare. It wasn’t as bright as the name made it sound, but it was far from a hole-in-the-wall place for scum. A homely bar to sit down at and have a pint.
As he sat at a table in the corner sipping at his beer, absorbing the idle hubbub of the bar, his eyes flicking over the crowd with nothing else to really look at, he contemplated everything. Even so few days into Daybreakers reign, he had heard whispers of rebellion - a Harmonious Rebellion consisting of the remaining Elements of Harmony, and a Lunar Rebellion consisting of the escaped Princess Luna. However, they were extremely decentralised; to the point that it was mostly a few believers spread out across Equestria that had little way of communicating, and then with main bases for both rebellions somewhere, where the majority of their forces and resources lay. With no help, they were doomed to fail.
His eyes caught an interesting detail on one of the bartenders at the bar; small tufts at the end of her ears. Glasses; round, covering all of her eyes. She was chatting idly with another bartender before, he assumed, her shift was over. She was walking out of the bar now; likely going home. Something in him recognised that she was not a pony. Levitating three bits onto the counter as a tip for whichever cleaner came to clean up and polishing off the rest of his beer, he stood and and trotted to the exit, shadowing the pony he suspected was a thestral.
The concrete streets of lower Canterlot felt harsh on his hooves, and his fur was getting wet from the rain as he had neglected to bring any kind of coat, but he saw an upcoming alleyway and, noticing the late hour and that there was no one around, he got up close to her and pushed her in. She immediately turned to face him, adorning a face of terror and about to let out a scream only to see a pistol pointed in her face. She was silent.
“You’re a thestral.” Sharpened Sword stated, his voice brooking a tone of complete confidence. He wasn’t completely confident, truth be told; if he was wrong, this was about to go very badly for him.
“I-I’m not,” she said, quivering slightly, “I swear I’m not!”
“Take off your glasses.” He responded. He was sure they were enchanted. Not a hard enchantment, either. The rain fell into the alley and onto the ponies, causing his mane to slowly fall into his eyes and covering her glasses in droplets.
Shakily, she took them off, gazing down at the floor. Still holding them in one damp hoof, she turned her gaze up to him. Her eyes were a deep amber - a colour common among thestrals and rare among ponies - and, more convincingly, her irises slitted.
“You should shave your ears more often. They gave you away.” He said coldly.
For a beat, she was silent. “Please don’t report me,” she muttered, voice quivering - he could no longer tell if it was rain or tears that matted the fur under her eyes, “they’ll kill me.”
“I know.”
Another beat.
He lowered his gun and holstered it.
“I don’t plan on it,” he spat, venom filling his tone, “I hate everything Daybreaker stands for, especially her plans to kill you just because of Princess Luna.”
Saying that felt somehow wrong. He felt as if he was being watched by spies or cameras, some sort of bug picking up his words, ruining all of his acting already and revealing him to Daybreaker. As the rain fell, silence hanging heavy between them after his words, she regained her composure and put her glasses back on, irises immediately becoming circular, eye colour becoming a rich blue. “You’re a sympathiser. With a license to carry?”
She was still slightly fearful. “I’m in the army. My name is Sharpened Sword.” He said, not elaborating any further. Though his actions had been many and he was renowned throughout the military, he wasn’t much known outside of it. He didn’t want to potentially scare her by revealing his high-ranking status.
“Bright Night,” she responded. For another few moments they were in silence, the sound of rain impacting concrete the only thing interrupting it, and then she pulled a small card out of her jacket pocket before handing it to him. He took it gingerly, looking it over before sliding it into his holster with his gun, trying to protect it from the elements.
He nodded at her, and she nodded back. She walked off.
He galloped home, not even bothering to dry himself off before pulling out the card and laying it on his desk, sitting at it and furrowing his brow. It held the details for a meeting in a few days.
Princess Luna would be there. This… was an invite to a Lunar Rebellion meeting.
An internal battle initiated, but the side of him that believed passionately in harmony was much larger than the part that wished for him to survive.
Daybreaker was not his ruler. Celestia and Luna were his rulers.
For Equestria.