Epilogue
For Your Ears Only
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December 18th, 1452 A.S.
Canterlot Royal Theater Dressing Room 1
1054 Hours
“Oh, come on, Mr. Ink; you’ve got to take it off sooner or later.”
The ‘Commander’ of the Honor Guard sighed. “I know, Rarity. It’s just strange. You have no idea how many times I asked him if I could try it on, and he always said no.”
“What, the real thing?” Twilight shook her head. “You know that’s just a costume, right? Commander Lining didn’t make a habit of lending the real set of Hurricane’s Armor out every Hearth’s Warming Eve for the pageant.”
“I am aware,” Ink told her, before putting on the fake black helmet. “It’s still hard to believe he’s gone. Or that I’ve got his job, now.”
“Well, first you’ve got to stop being Commander Hurricane!” Pinkie patted Ink on the back. “Come on, let’s see your racism face one more time.”
“Oh, please, Pinkie. How many times do I have to tell everypony the stories about him aren’t true?” Twilight clutched her brow. “It’s like Rainbow and I went on our big trip to Stol’nograd for nothing.”
“Thanks,” Ink muttered over his shoulder. “Well, I think we should get ready; it’s about time I got back to the Princess; we have dinner with Prince Blueblood this afternoon.” Ink made a ‘gagging’ motion with his hoof, earning a light laugh from some of the mares in his company. “You have my apologies for stealing the show.”
Rarity slapped him across the fake black cuirass teasingly. “Oh, come now, Mr. Ink. And here I thought Rainbow Dash had elected to stay behind this year.”
“Are ya comin’ back to visit some time?” Applejack asked.
Ink shrugged. “Protecting the Princess is a full-time job.”
“I’m sure we’ll see him around,” Twilight noted. “It isn’t as if she has any shortage of reasons to visit Ponyville.”
“Or perhaps we’ll come visit him. But now, we probably ought to be going.”
Ink held up a hoof. “Wait. Fluttershy!”
The mare, who had until that moment been completely silent, made a sort of squeaking noise as she turned. “Yes?”
Ink was grateful for a red coat to hide his nervousness. He’d approached plenty of mares before in his life, but somehow, vulgar Stalliongradi pickup lines didn’t seem like the right approach here.
“Would you... like to get dinner some time?”
Fluttershy’s eyes grew very wide, and she hid behind her mane when she responded. “Well, um, you see... I’d love to... as a friend.”
She darted out of the room before Ink could reply, and it took him a moment of long breaths to restore his resolve. He would probably have wandered off in search of ‘eggnog’ that very moment, were it not for Rarity wandering up to his side.
“I’m not so sure Fluttershy’s ready for that kind of a relationship, Mr. Ink. But your mention of Prince Blueblood does bring something to mind. You’re something like the ‘Prince’ of Stalliongrad yourself, correct?”
Ink shrugged, debating silently to himself whether or not. “My father is Tsar. You could say that. He would be furious.”
Rarity placed a hoof over her mouth as she laughed. “Well, the thing is, I’ve always rather had a fantasy for going to the Gala with a glorious prince. My last try didn’t work out quite so well, but I was rather looking forward to not going to this year’s Gala alone.”
“Gala?”
“The Grand Galloping Gala,” Rarity answered. “It’s quite a big deal here in the Domain of Canterlot; everypony who is anypony attends. This year, Princess Luna is holding a masked ball, and it should be so much fun. Twilight got us all tickets, as always, but I’ve rather been dreading another incident like the last time I attended. So I was wondering if you might consider being my date for the night?”
Silently, Ink wondered why the prissy mare who had been so enamored with his brother’s Prench scarves and droves of money would ask him over the other ‘Prince’ of Stalliongrad. Little did he know that Rarity was well aware of the ‘Lollypop Incident’. Frankly, that’s both a story for another time, and a story that likely isn’t comfortable enough to be told.
Ink cocked his brow. “I’m not much of a dancer. And I’m very busy tonight. I have a meeting with a sculptor about the assassin―”
“You mean you’re going to unpetrify her?”
In an astounding temptation of fate, Ink nodded. “I don’t see how it could possibly do any harm, now that we have her captured. But regardless, she is likely to tie up the rest of my evening.”
“Oh, the Gala isn’t tonight. It won’t be for another few months. Think of it as a night to relax, after some time with a very hard job.”
Ink placed a hoof on his chest. “You and me? What happens at this ‘Gala’?”
“Oh, the usual. Dancing. Socializing. I’m certain after last time we attended, it will prove to be calm and pleasant. I can’t imagine any of your work will show up that night.”
Across the world, philosophers stirred in their beds, shaken by a great disturbance in the concept of ‘truth’, as though a million voices had cried out in deception, and then were suddenly silenced.
Ink, who was about as far from a philosopher as a gigantic boulder is from a diamond, grinned. “I suppose we can make something happen, Rarity.”
“Don’t take it as any sort of romantic proposal, Mr. Ink.” Rarity walked away, though she did flick his nose with her coiled tail as she left. “At least, not so far in advance.”
Ink was left standing alone in a costume of his mentor’s armor backstage, staring blankly at the door. Only one word came to his addled mind.
Кобылицы.
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Sweet Apple Acres
2043 Hours
“Resistant, you comin’ inside tonight?” Granny Smith shouted. “Y’d better not be out there drinkin’ like ya was at Applebuck Season.”
Stoikaja sighed. “I ain’t drinkin, ma’am. An’ I had my part of the orchard done anyhow, so I don’t see why it matters what I do on my time.”
The snappiness of the mare’s response caught Granny Smith’s attention. Pulling her shawl tighter around her withered shoulders, the old mare stepped out of the gentle warmth of the house and into winter’s bitter embrace.
“What’s wrong, dearie? Ya been seemin’ so blue lately.”
“...I don’t take too kindly ta this season, ma’am.”
The old mare rested a gentle hoof on Stoikaja’s shoulder. “Family?”
The younger mare’s silence was all the answer Granny Smith needed.
“Well, yer welcome t’ join us if’n ya want some company for Hearth’s Warmin’; Applejack jus’ got home an’ we got enough supper on th’ table ta feed half the town.”
“No, Ah couldn’t-”
“It wasn’t a suggestion. Asides, I’m sure Big Mac’d love to keep ya company.” The old mare grinned for a moment before seriousness returned to her voice. “Nopony should be alone tonight.”
The Stalliongradi mare stared at the snowing sky before she nodded. “Ah’ll... Ah’ll be in ‘n a bit... Ah promise.”
Satisfied, Granny Smith smiled to Resistant and gave her shoulder a gentle pat. Quickly as her old bones would allow, she made her way back to the warmth of her home. Stoikaja watched her as she went, her ears hearing the faint sounds of laughter from inside.
The foals laughed, chasing one another about the cramped living room. She watched them from the couch, a smile on her lips.
Scowling, Stoikaja cast her gaze to the skies, silently cursing the snow that fell over the fertile earth. Snowflakes fell upon her, cold like death and melting into her coat like tears. She hated snow, she hated the things it carried. The old ache only worsened when she heard the wings approach.
He landed just behind her, snow crunching under his hooves. She didn’t turn to face him, and for a moment, he didn’t move to approach her. Her breath caught in her throat when he took a step, his cold body sitting beside her.
“...Stoikaja?” he spoke.
“You shouldn’t be here...”
The night guard extended his left wing, draping it over her shoulders to shield her from the snow. Though it kept the snowflakes and the calm breeze away, the leathery wing lacked the heat to really compete with a blanket. “It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve. I couldn’t let it pass without seeing you.”
“If she finds out―”
“She trusts me,” he answered quickly, “and even if she knew to ask, I wouldn’t tell her you were here.”
Stoikaja sighed, her head ever so slightly nodding. Then her thoughts turned to grimmer topics. “Is he alive?”
The night guard’s slitted yellow eyes briefly met On’s. “...Yes.”
On lowered her head, her lips pulled into a tight frown. “Why?”
“You know why,” he answered, his voice quiet.
She shook her head, long strands of blonde mane swaying over her face. “What he did to Neustannaja and Upornyj... what he did to you...”
The night guard leaned his head back, gazing into the snowy skies. “He’s still my brother.”
Stoikaja looked him in the eye, the pain of a mother’s loss reflected in her expression. “They were our children!”
The stallion reached into his armor, retrieving a tiny crystal that seemed to be made of the night sky itself. It swirled with colors; blues and purples of every shade and dotted with little pinpricks of light that flickered like stars.
Two little voices sang to her. Their laughter and joy radiating warmth better than any palace hearthfire. They smiled and told her the words...
“W-what is that?” she asked, her vision blurring with unshed tears.
“A message, and a gift,” he answered, holding it out for her. “I brought it along when I got my day in the sun. They said they love you, and they miss you.”
With a trembling hoof, she reached out for the crystal. She hesitated only a hair's breadth from touching it, afraid to lose the warmth. Her heart skipped a beat when she touched it, the warmth filling her like an emptied cup.
“Don’t be sad, mommy!”
“We’re always here for you!”
Stoikaja recoiled, the wall she had built around her heart crumbling as the tears ran down her cheeks. He was there in an instant, his strong hooves catching her and pulling her to him. The mighty soldier... the weary soldier... the broken soldier... she wept into his shoulder, and he held her close for as long as she needed.
“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, a hoof petting her mane.
She wished she could believe him as easily as she used to, before he was turned, before she had desecrated what he was. Where there was once warmth there was now only a deathly chill. It pulled the heat from her body and reminded her of the winters she hated so.
“It’s hard, I know,” he said, his hooves rubbing her back, “but you have to be strong for them, Stoikaja. I need you to be strong for them.”
“They need you, too...” she answered, her voice barely a whisper in the breeze.
He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I’m doing what I can.”
With a sigh, she reluctantly nodded, and let her hooves slip around his back to hold him close. His cold armor made her shiver, but she didn’t dare let him go. They held each other tightly, enjoying the precious few moments of peace for what they were. Reluctantly, he pulled away, his eyes meeting hers.
“You should go inside. Warm up, have some fun.”
“I don’t―”
He pressed a gentle hoof to her lips, silencing her. With the other he held out the crystal. “Please, Stoikaja. For us...”
With a sigh, she took the crystal in her hooves, losing herself to her thoughts as she stared into its depths. He spread his batlike wings in preparation to fly, she barely managed to snap herself free of the crystal's spell in time to stop his flight with a hoof to his shoulder.
They stared into each other’s eyes, sorrow and resolve mixing with the distant memories of happier times. There were no words as they leaned forward, lips meeting in a soft kiss.
“I love you, Stoikaja, never forget that.”
“I love you too, Polnoch.”