It had been a week since the duel. A guard arrived with a package. Sun had seen stoic faces of guards from the palace, but this had the cast of ponies giving testimony after a fire. He didn't want to be here, and it showed.
He cleared his throat. “By order of Princess Luna, pursuant to the agreed-upon conditions of the duel between yourself and Blue Beet on 21st Marech, the remaining non-familial assets are awarded as spoils of victory.” He hoofed the package to her and made an abrupt about-face, trotting away before she could mutter a half-hearted “Thanks.”
Sun stepped out of her apartment to collect letters that had piled near the mail slot, most of them trod-upon and wrinkled. Some bore traces of paint splatters – the paint used to scrawl “MURDERER” and varying obscenities on the door and adjoining wall. She gave up cleaning it after three days of finding new ones every morning.
The newspaper made front page of the duel, and subsequently the official abolishment of the practice, with nopony dissenting on the motion. The opinion was nothing but calls for justice, so she tossed it aside after the first article calling for her head.
She entered the abode and locked the door. Opening the box, she found a bag of bits and an accounting ledger. Blue Beet didn't live beyond his means, but he was damn close. The haul amounted to about six months' rent, no more. The ledger detailed the hospital and burial expenses. The family had spent as much as possible on it, knowing where the rest was going. She couldn't blame them. Placing the bag on the table, she hoofed through the pile of letters. Dozens of pieces of hate mail and threats was all she'd gotten this week. Discarding any name she didn't recognize pared down the pile quickly. One, however, was from Blaze. She hadn't seen him since the duel, and opened it without delay.
Sun,
I'm sorry. While the law allows me to stay with you, my conscience cannot. Goodbye.
-Guard Blaze Fire
Tears pattered on the page, streaking patches of inked words. She wordlessly put it down and went to the fridge. Retrieving a bottle of whiskey, she tossed the cap aside and drank. The bottle was halfway gone before she took a moment to breathe.
Sitting on the floor, nursing the bottle, one set of thoughts played across her mind. Every crude joke she'd made on the subject, every fantasy of getting rid of that one flankhole that everypony's had at once point or another, and she did it. Not only that, she'd gotten away with it. In a roundabout way, Blue Beet was right about the charges. He just had the wrong victim.
It was a bucking accident, everypony knows that!
For what it was worth to the world, she was the last to ever do it legally in Equestria. Sun showers had gotten away with killing another pony. She glanced over at her work gear. It had begun to get grimy from not being properly cleaned. After the shock wore off from the event she attempted to get on with her life. But vicious stares were the least of it. Ponies would come up with every conceivable (And inconceivable) excuse to not deal with her. Most had never seen a violent death, and some primal fear had taken hold of the populace. When ponies realized that she wasn't a threat, they went on the offensive. Sun found hostility wherever she went.
But Sun refused to run. Stubborn pride kept her in Ponyville. She took another swig of the bottle. It'll get better, right?