I made my way to the palace dungeons as soon as I could spare the time. Tending my duties alongside Sunbeam, Crossguard, and the other officers of Commander Celestia’s armies had naturally required my attention. Whate’er my private desires, I could not see to such personal indulgences until all my duties had been attended. However, all through the meeting as we discussed our losses in the battle and how next to deploy our forces, a part of my mind was occupied with thoughts of Rightly Doo.
E’er since the news of his capture had come, I knew that I would have to go to him. I did not know what I might say, but I could not simply ignore his presence. Too much had passed ‘tween us, and too much more had been left unsaid.
I made my way to the palace dungeons. I had given thought to arranging something more suitable for him, but ‘twas not likely to be needed. There was already talk of returning him to the rebels in exchange for some of the captured archmagi, and I expected the rebels to accept the offer. There was little to be gained in holding him: I did not judge it likely we could win him to our cause or persuade him to betray any secrets, and the rebels still maintained a functioning chain of command. His only use as a prisoner would be if we resorted to acts of foulness and dishonored ourselves. Regaining our archmagi was a far better choice.
However, on this day I did not go to Rightly for reasons relating the war, save perhaps by the most indirect of interpretations. My desires of him were entirely personal.
The Commander’s dungeon is pleasant and carefully maintained, inasmuch as a dungeon may be so. The cells for high-value prisoners were fully enclosed, offering their occupants a measure of privacy, and included simple but functional accommodations. ‘Tis often said that how one treats one’s prisoners says much of a pony, and Commander Celestia offered them what dignity and comfort she could within the bounds of her position. Having seen other prisons, I can say that a measure of privacy, a clean cell, and fresh straw in one’s mattress is no small thing.
I strode in, sparing a glance for the royal guards and approaching the highest-ranking of them. To my surprise, I recognized the unicorn stallion as the sergeant who had accompanied Proud Line when first I had arrived in Canterlot, before civil war rent Equestria. I suppose ‘twas no surprise that our paths would cross again, now that I daily came to the palace on business of war. However, I had little time to spare for idly thinking ‘pon a chance meeting. “Sergeant, which cell holds Rightly Doo?”
He answered with a respectful nod. “I will escort you to him myself, milady.” He rose from his desk and quickly walked to the nearest of the private cells. “He has been silent since his arrival here, save for requesting a glass of water and a few words with the chirurgeons who treated his wounds.”
I grunted an acknowledgement of his words. The sergeant did not seem inclined to speak of our prior meeting, and I saw no reason to call it to his attention if he preferred silence. What I know of the Royal Guard’s internal functioning would say that a jailor is a far less prestigious posting than greeting visiting dignitaries. ‘Twas likely that the sergeant’s fall from grace was on account of what had passed on the day I arrived. Though his commanding officer, Proud Line, had been a fool who brought doom ‘pon himself, his father currently held leadership of the Commander’s Royal Guard. No doubt the sergeant’s new posting was a punishment for allowing his son’s injury and humiliation, regardless of the fact that the soldier had done all he could to dissuade the arrogant young fool from his course.
We made our way to Rightly’s cell. I quickly glanced through the small window in the door, espying him lying in bed, his wings bound to his side and other wounds bandaged. ‘Twas also the first time I had seen him unarmored, though it seemed wrong that it be under such adversarial circumstances. (1) For a moment I wondered if he slept; no doubt he was weary after the exertions of battle. However, he stirred and glanced to the door, perhaps having heard us moving about outside it. Mayhaps he had hoped for sleep, but it had eluded him due to the pain of his wounds.
1: It was relatively rare for high-ranking Pegasopolan warriors to go outside of their clanholds unarmed and unarmored. While it would not be that unusual for Shadow or Rightly to have met at their respective clanholds at some point in their careers, presumably they both kept things a bit formal to avoid any temptation and/or the appearance of impropriety. Wearing full plate makes any kind of fooling around extremely difficult.
I turned to the sergeant. “Open the cell. I would have words with him.”
The sergeant looked to me with a faint frown, but wasted no time complying with my request. Rightly’s cell door opened, and I strode into it. “Close the door behind me, then leave us.”
The sergeant’s frown deepened at that, and he did not immediately fulfill my request. “Milady, I mean no disrespect, but ‘tis most unusual to leave a pony of importance unescorted with a dangerous prisoner. Are you certain...” The sergeant’s words trailed off as he took note of the most displeased scowl I was directing towards him. Though I took no pleasure in dealing so harshly with a soldier who merely sought to do his duty, I was in no mood to explain myself. The jailor let forth a long-suffering sigh and stepped out of the cell. “Of course, milady. ‘Twill be as you desire. I will have to lock the door, but simply strike thrice ‘pon it once your business is concluded, and I shall open it.”
The sergeant closed the door, and moments later I heard the key turning within the lock. The observation window closed a moment later, leaving me entirely alone with Rightly at last.
Rightly turned to face me, though he did not leave his bed. His expression was carefully unreadable, rather than the fond smile he had so often met me with in better times. Instead he regarded me in silence for some time before he finally spoke. His tone was cold and distant, his voice devoid of the warmth I had become accustomed to hearing when we spoke in private. “Shadow, I expected we would have words at some point in my captivity. I will not betray my allies or my cause, whate’er temptations or tortures you and your allies think to offer me.”
“I did not come to turn thee ‘gainst thine allies or thy cause, though ‘twould gladden my heart if we could stand together once more.” I strode to his side, looking o’er the bindings on his wounds and trying to gain a sense for the severity of his injuries. From what little I could tell, they did not seem crippling. “How fare thy wounds?”
“Tolerable.” He turned away from me, and shifted on his bed to increase the distance ‘tween us. “And I ask that you do not speak to me with such inappropriate familiarity.”
I flinched back at his words. I think a physical blow would not have hurt half so badly. To be so cold and formal when meeting in battle was expected, but in a private meeting ‘tween us, where none would bear witness to what passed? His words had cut me to the quick. “Rightly, can we not set aside the war for a few moments?”
“And why should we?” Still he refused to face me. “Are we not enemies?”
“Enemies.” My shoulders slumped at the words, and I for a moment I was tempted to succumb to melancholy. I resisted the urge, and pressed on. “We serve different causes, aye. My beliefs and thine have come into conflict, and we have found no resolution to this disagreement save what can be found in battle, but I do not see thee as mine enemy. Not as I would view the servants of the dark powers or a gryphon reiver. What is within my heart and what I feel for thee have not changed, e’en though politics and duty have placed us on opposite ends of the battlefield.”
At last Rightly faced me, and I saw the pain within his own eyes. “If your feelings are as strong as you claim, then why did you choose a queen over your commander?”
Though he did not speak it, I heard the true question behind his words. He did not ask why Ephor Shadow Kicker had placed loyalty to Commander Celestia over loyalty to Commander Rightly. ‘Twas hard to see my defection as anything but a personal rejection of him, which had ne’er been my intent. “Rightly, I chose the only commander I have e'er known, the commander to whom my life and service both are owed, whate’er my personal desires. That I follow my duty e’en when it takes me from thy side does not diminish my personal regard for thee. Nor my hopes for what our future might hold.”
“‘Our future.’” Rightly let out a tired, bitter scoff. “I do not think it likely that we will have a future any longer. Are we to forget that we stand for causes that cannot be reconciled? That my kin and thine have not slain one another? Cling to the desperate hope that once this war ends we can return to a time before all this bloodshed and tyranny? If my cause is undone and I do not meet mine end on the battlefield, I will likely be executed, exiled, or imprisoned by your queen. If I am the victor, I would be hard-pressed to justify pardoning you, e’en if I could believe that you would not still honor and remain loyal to your queen.” His shoulder slumped, and a note of weary resignation entered his voice. “There is no future for us, Shadow.”
His words carried the weight of truth, loathe though I was to hear it. I made my way to his bed, sitting on the corner furthest from him. I wondered if the weight that pressed down ‘pon me was similar to that which the Commander herself bears. To know that a pony whose life is so precious to oneself might be fore’er lost, that I would never know Rightly’s gentle caresses or tender intimacies. Though Luna was sister to the Commander, whilst I would have Rightly as my lover, in both cases ‘twas a deep and powerful bond, and one now lost. If the pain I felt now was similar to what so pressed ‘pon the Commander, then I could well understand why she had fallen into such a deep melancholy.
“I do not know what we are to do,” I confessed. “I see no way in which we might find our joy together. I only know that I must do what both my mind and my heart tell me is righteous. To do otherwise would be to betray myself and my commander.” I gazed ‘pon Rightly’s noble visage once more and was sorely tempted to caress him despite all that had passed. “Yet I also know that I cannot deny that which is within my heart. I am torn ‘tween that which I must do and that which I wish for.”
Rightly averted his eyes from me once more. “Shadow, I am not ready to speak of such things with you. I fear I will say things that cannot be unsaid.”
Mayhaps ‘twas greedy of me, but I had hoped he would do precisely that. “Aye, there are many things we left unsaid, thinking we had the luxury of time. That we could wait for the proper moment, e’en if that moment proved months or years in coming. Now we both see the folly of that. If ‘tis as thou dost fear, and one of us will likely perish in this war, then this may well be our last chance to speak of the things we have not shared with one another.”
Rightly met mine eyes, though no words left his lips. For a long moment we simply shared that gaze, but ‘twas only a moment. Then he broke it, refusing to gaze upon me any longer. “I am sorry, Shadow, but I am the Commander of Pegasopolis. Would that things were otherwise, but my duty must stand before whate’er may be in my heart.”
“And I have my duty to mine own commander.” My wings drooped and my shoulders slouched as I faced that grim reality. ‘Twas foolish to think a bit of privacy could allow us to shut away all the problems of the world. “So that is the way of it. Pity we cannot not set that weight aside for a single conversation. I already tire of war, and would have a few moment's peace. Can we not allow ourselves to turn from our duty for this?”
Rightly sighed and slowly ran a hoof over his face. “There would seem to be little else for me to do until I am exchanged. Very well, I will have the discussion you—thou dost desire.” I was gladdened by the return to informal address, even if it seemed a product of weary resignation rather than true fondness. “I have not found the war to my liking either,” he confessed. “‘Twould be ideal, if we could return to simpler times.”
“Aye, that it would.” Pity that was naught but an idle fancy. No matter who won the war, the face of Equestria would be irrevocably altered by it. Either a single Equestria firmly united beneath Commander Celestia’s banner, or three pony tribes, with the pegasi as the first amongst equals. I slowly extended a hoof to him, in unspoken offer.
Rightly regarded my hoof for some time, then just as hesitantly took it in his own. “There are many questions I would ask of thee, but I am not sure if they would be welcome.”
“Ask what thou wilt.” I smiled as he drew my hoof to his chest. “I will answer those questions I welcome and refuse any that offend me. But in either case, I will not think less of thee for seeking answers.”
Rightly nodded, and gently squeezed my hoof. “Why art thou so loyal to Queen Celestia? Thou art not blind to her failures. I do not understand why she still enjoys thy support, especially with the heavy price it carries.”
Rightly’s questions did not begin easily, though I suppose I should have expected nothing else. “I support the Commander for two reasons. Firstly, though she has made her share of errors, I would not abandon my Commander simply for being imperfect. Her flaws stem from a troubled mind, and she requires our loyalty and aid now more than e’er. Secondly, she has a vision for Equestria's future which I believe in. I believe that for all our current troubles, there is yet the promise of better things to come.”
“Better things?” Rightly let forth an incredulous snort. “Is that why she has made an evil mare her archmagus and vizier? Is Pegasopolis to be a blood sacrifice for the creation of her new and better Equestria? Yet now thou wouldst name her as an ally. Hast thou forgotten the atrocity she perpetrated ‘gainst my kinsman Valiant?”
“I have not forgotten it.” A hint of discord entered my voice as I added. “Nor have I forgotten Valiant’s own crimes. He earned death, e’en if I would have preferred a gentler, more honorable end. As for the mare herself, Sunbeam is ... more complex than a mere villain. Few ponies can be fairly dismissed as purely evil.”
Righlty rubbed at his eyes and let forth a tired groan. “I will be fair to thee, for thou hast earned that much from me. Pray, explain why Sunbeam is not a fiend worthy of condemnation. Please, tell me thou hast not been ensnared in the same web of lies and manipulation that convinced Celestia she was a worthy choice. That thou hast not been persuaded that simply because a pony is useful, any evil she does can be o’erlooked.”
“Neigh, I have not.” I ran a hoof through my mane and struggled to find the right words to describe my feelings on the mare. ‘Twas not an easy task, especially as my opinions had been subject to some change of late. “That some of her actions are evil is beyond dispute. However, committing a few evil acts is not enough to declare her naught but a villain. She is a mare with admirable qualities and deficiencies both. I think Celestia can see that capacity for good within her, e’en if ‘tis not readily apparent to others.”
“But is it apparent to thee?” Rightly demanded. “What admirable qualities dost thou see in her that justify her foul deeds?”
I briefly recalled the time when Sunbeam had propositioned me in Rightly’s sight, and wondered if that might be part of why he had taken such keen interest in my opinion of her. “She is a very driven mare. She will stop at nothing to accomplish her goals, and those goals generally serve the betterment of Equestria.”
“Such as murdering a colt to slay a warlock?” Rightly scowled at the mere mention of the crime. “And then having the gall to question how we treat our foals.”
“The Clipping investigation was a mistake, though I think ‘twas as much Celestia’s error and that of the nobles as Sunbeam herself.” Though I had not spoken to her of the investigation, I could not imagine that Sunbeam wholly approved of the needless antagonism some of the investigators had created. “As for her slaying of the foal in the matter of Spellfire, lives were saved by the act, foul though it might have been. I cannot condone it, but I cannot bring myself to condemn it too readily. Sacrificing one life to save many is a difficult question of morality.”
Rightly drew himself up properly, sitting tall at my side. “But can we not do better than that? Surely there must be better choices in all of Equestria than to commit such crimes. I refuse to accept that the best possible solution involved child-murder.”
“I believe that there are better ways, aye,” I conceded. “However, I was not present at the event itself. ‘Tis easy to look at her actions from a distant perspective, and condemn them as needlessly cruel. Were we present in the heat of the moment, having seen only what she saw and knowing only what she knew, it might impact our judgment. As the Fourth Axiom says, one cannot always accurately judge acts taken in the field from afar.” I rubbed at my temple and presented my conclusion. “E'en if it saved lives, 'twas a foul act. But would allowing more to die through inaction be any better? I do not know, and so I hesitate to condemn another for choosing differently from what I would.”
Rightly crossed his forelegs o’er his chest and met my eyes challengingly. ‘Twould seem he was yet unconvinced. “E’en if that is so, if Celestia is so fair and noble a mare as thou wouldst have me believe, then why not pick another? Sunbeam Sparkle cannot be the only suitable mare ‘mongst the whole of the unicorns. E’en when Sunbeam's deeds are made plain to all, the queen did not hesitate to put Sunbeam back in power 'pon Polaris's defeat.”
“Aye, though one could point out that thy victory o’er our forces left us with precious few other options. Sunbeam Sparkle was one of the only free ponies left who had the power and influence needed to rule Unicornia.” I considered, and then amended my words. “But e’en before Polaris’ capture, I prefered Sunbeam to him in some capacities. If we hold our honor so dear to our hearts that it leads to the destruction of our own cause, then ‘tis little more than vanity. Better to tolerate a lesser evil than allow a greater one to take root.”
“Ah.” Rightly released my hoof and turned from me. “Is that the way of it, then? Have your fellow pegasi become the greater evil to you, Shadow?”
I was stung by his return to a more distant form of address. “So ‘twould seem, though only in a manner of speaking.” I struggled to put the proper words to my thoughts. “Thou art no villain, nor are any within the Ephorate. However, thy cause will end badly, and it must be stopped.”
Rightly turned to face me once more and placed a hoof on my shoulder. “Shadow, surely thou knowest that I would not be leading this cause if I thought it could lead to evil. I give my word, the removal of Celestia will ultimately be to Equestria’s betterment. Another can serve as steward of the sun, or several ponies working in tandem as we did before her arrival. Better for all that Equestria be ruled by mortal hooves, rather than an eternal queen who favors one breed either through willful choice or simply by being so taken with melancholy she cannot bestir herself to exercise her office.”
“Good intentions can still lead to a bad end,” I countered. “One cannot topple the pillars of our society and think that no evil will come of it.”
“Change is never easy, but ‘tis the one constant in life.” Rightly paused in thought, then amended, “Save for thy queen, of course. Heating a blade is not easy, and renders it vulnerable for a time, but tempered steel is ultimately stronger for it. Tell me, if thou wert so certain that my cause would have a bad end, why didst thou not tell me this before thou didst depart from Cloudsdale?”
I felt a momentary irritation with him. “I tried to, but I was not heard. Surely thou hast not forgotten it already?” I paused, closed my eyes, and reined in my choler lest it spoil the meeting. “Thou knowest my reasons, and I know thine. I see little to be gained in arguing over the matter one last time, when neither of us is likely to bend.”
Rightly closed his eyes and offered a small nod. “Aye. A different topic then? Something ... not involving the war?”
“I would prefer it.”
A long silence reigned ‘tween us, as Rightly struggled for some other topic. When at last he broke the silence, ‘twas for idle chatter. “How fares thy daughter? I saw Gale briefly on the field, and pray that she remains well. I would not wish the death of a child on any parent, e’en one such as Sunbeam Sparkle. ‘Tis the natural order that children should bury their parents. The reversal of that order is one of the cruelest prices of war.”
“Gale is as well as she has e’er been.” With some hesitation, I drew myself nearer to him. “Thou art a good stallion, e'en if war and politics have set us 'gainst one another.”
“And I do not believe thee to be evil, either.” He let out a low, weary groan. “If only I could have thee by my side, instead of opposing me. This war already seems a twisted, unnatural thing. Ponies should not fight against one another.”
I swallowed and made my own confession. “I share thy thoughts on the matter. And I cannot deny that I have spent many a lonely night wishing that thou wert at my side, or I at thine. Duty sustains me by day, but when there is naught but myself and a cold, empty bed...” I hesitated when it came to fully baring my heart, but not for long. “We should not have waited so long to speak truly to one another. We might have bound our fates together, but now...”
“Aye.” His head fell low, and he studied the bare floor of his cell. “At the time, the pain of losing Brave and our son was yet too fresh, and I could not bear to face it once more. I was ... I feared that by finding comfort in the arms of another, I would dishonor their memories. Yet now I wonder if ‘tis truly what my wife would have wanted, or if it merely would have saddened her to see me denied what happiness I could find in life.” He slowly shook his head and let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “In truth, when I met your warriors in battle, a part of me hoped that they might o’ercome me and strike me down, that I might at least see them once more. In moments of weakness I have given thought to joining them, but duty always stayed my hoof.”
“Rightly...” I moved nearer, so that my side was but a feather’s thickness away from his. “Thy lady wife would not have thee perish for many years hence. Thy misery and loneliness would only serve to bring her further pain. This may be our last chance to speak of such things. I beg of thee, do not squander it. We both have regrets enough as it stands, let us not regret words left unsaid for the rest of our days as well.”
He hesitated for some time, then with painstaking slowness shifted so that his side pressed ‘gainst mine. E’en through his bandages, I could feel the heat of his skin, and a part of me could think of little more than how much I desired more of his skin ‘gainst mine. To embrace him in every sense of the word and know him as only a lover can. Rightly’s own eyes were wide, and after a moment his tongue darted across his lips as his gaze held mine. “I ... I would not wish to make a mistake.”
“A mistake?” I prompted.
Once more, he averted his eyes from mine, but the gesture was half complete. ‘Twas as if for all his efforts, he could not fully tear his gaze away from me. “Aye, a mistake. Some would say that for me to love thee would be a treason ‘gainst Pegasopolis. And yet, to not do so would be a treason ‘gainst thee and ‘gainst mine own heart.”
I dropped to a low, wounded whisper. “Aye, I know thy struggle well, for I also fight it daily. ‘Tis an ache with no remedy, save the end of this mad war.” I caressed his cheek, and he met mine eyes once more. “I pray to thee, my dearest Rightly, let us have this moment, e'en if we must be enemies on the morrow. Let us forget the war for a few precious hours, and focus the full of ourselves solely ‘pon one another. The war shall still be there on the morrow, but we may not.”
The noble stallion slowly nodded, and by gradual degrees his head leaned in towards mine. His lips pursed, and my own made ready to meet him. However, as we were but a breath from contact, he reluctantly turned his head and placed a gentle, arresting hoof ‘pon my chest. “Shadow...” He closed his eyes, and took several long, slow breaths. “If ... I think 'twould be best—if this were to e’er happen—’twould be best if it did not happen until after the war. Now ... would not be a good time. Such a thing as this is to be cherished and treasured, not some quick exchange in a dungeon cell. And I think our troubles would only be magnified by the brief experience of all we will not be able to share with one another for many months hence. Let us wait for a better time.”
“If such a time e’er comes to pass.” I cannot deny that bitterness tinged my words to him. For all that I grasped the logic behind his words, a part of me wished to bed him here and now, and damn the consequences. However, e’en as the thought entered my mind, I knew ‘twas one I could not pursue. Duty bound us both to our causes, and thus ‘gainst one another. “Thou art likely right,” I admitted with considerable reluctance. Would that we lived in different times, where we might not be sundered so cruelly from one another.
Rightly took note of my displeasure and gently took my shoulders in his hooves. “Shadow, I would not treat thee with anything less than all the honor thou dost deserve. Thou art a mare of strength and distinction, and deserve better than stolen pleasures in a dungeon cell. I would take thee to wife, not use thee as naught but a salve to mine own loneliness.”
For all that he spoke of honoring me, a great part of me held no objection to the notion of salving his isolation. ‘Twas not as if I yearned for him any less. For all that he meant to do well by me, a part of me would be quite content with a touch less honor on his part. “Damn our duty to Celestia and Pegasopolis for denying us this indulgence. We cannot steal e’en a single night to be anything other than our posts.”
Rightly slumped, seeming drained. “Aye, the burden of leadership lies heavy ‘pon me as well, yet I bear it gladly for all its cost. Still on days such as this I confess mine envy of the common soldier. Their duty demands far less of them.”
“Aye.” I felt the bitter tinge of jealousy coloring my words. “Stalwart shares his wife's bed this night. I envy him for it.”
“Does he then?” Rightly was briefly silent, then offered a single approving nod. “‘Tis good to know that there is some pleasant news, at least. I know Sierra and their daughter have missed him terribly since the war began. For all the pain our parting will bring, I think us luckier by far than any who saw families rent and children divided.”
“Aye,” I rose from the cot, pacing about the room. “Compared to father separated from daughter, the pain of losing that which we never held seems a petty thing to bemoan.”
“Father to daughter...” Rightly reached for me, placing a hoof ‘pon one of my wings. “I was saddened that there could be no peace ‘tween father and daughter, when thou didst meet Cyclone on the field. And though I am glad that war and duty did not force thee to shed kinsblood, I fear the consequences of his departure from the field. If I can, I will bear a message to thy father—”
“My father,” I interrupted him. “Is Clay Striker. And he is dead. I do not know Cyclone the clanless, nor do I care to.”
Rightly was silent for several long moments, holding me in a steady, measuring gaze. When he at last spoke, he opted for a new subject. “Regardless, 'tis good to know there will be some small measure of peace for Sierra and her husband. I will gladly accept what joyful news can be found in these grim times. There is little of it in recent days. I have often felt as though the whole of Equestria was a tinderbox, and now we have set a match to it.”
“In truth, ‘tis not far from it.” While the rebel forces had only claimed the east ere they moved ‘pon Canterlot, they yet moved to consolidate their hold ‘pon the rest of Equestria. ‘Twas one of many reasons I had opted to withdraw behind the shield. Let the enemy bear the burden of controlling and administering all Equestria outside Canterlot, and without the benefit of the Unicornian bureaucracy.
However, such thoughts were far from my mind at the time. “Would that we could have our own peace, and excuse ourselves from this war.”
“Pity that we cannot,” Rightly agreed, melancholy increasingly taking him. “Such is the burden we must carry as the leader of our ponies. To be the strongest and unbroken, so that others will follow our example.”
“So it is.” I began to rise, but could not fully remove my eyes from him. “After the war, when this madness finally ends, if we both yet live...”
“Aye,” Rightly agreed. “So long as the war’s passage has not changed what lies within either of our hearts, we will conclude the business left unfinished on this day.”
“Aye. Already I look forward to it.” I closed my eyes and drew in several breaths, regaining the calm, cold distance I held about me when serving as the leader of ponies. “Until that day comes, fare you well, Commander Doo.”
“And you, Sub-Commander Kicker.” (2)
2: Given the somewhat less formal ranking structure of the loyalist forces, assigning an actual rank to Shadow proved a difficult exercise. Her Pegasopolan rank held little weight with the unicorns, and the rebels refused to acknowledge her as an ephor or as materfamilias of the Kickers (at least officially: as we have seen, many rebels privately conceded the reality of her clan leadership). Sub-Commander seems a passable compromise and fits her rank as one of the ponies Celestia directly entrusted to enforce her will.
The next day found me in consultation with Commander Celestia and her war council. The council itself was much reduced from its previous meeting, as Polaris and his many sycophants were naturally absent. The magi contingent was also considerably reduced, as the bulk of the archmagi posts had not yet been formally reassigned. Given that we hoped to have the captured archmagi returned in exchange for Rightly, there was little reason to replace them. Naturally Morning Star, as one of the higher-ranking remaining magi, was among Sunbeam’s attendants. Greenwall and Crossguard’s contingents remained at their full strength from all I could see, as did mine own save for Stalwart’s absence.
The meeting began with initial casualty reports which said little I had not already surmised. We had achieved our objectives, but paid a heavy toll in blood for it and left the field to our enemy. In truth, I would have counted it a kind of victory e’en if we had not done half as much damage to the enemy, nor had the good fortune of capturing Rightly. We had met the enemy in battle, and our weaker army had acquitted itself with honor. For all the superiority of the rebels, they could be fought and halted.
Sunbeam briefly offered her thoughts on our foreign policy situation. Thankfully, no foreign powers had yet taken an interest in the conflict. The gryphons and other races were content, for the moment, to simply watch events unfold. The longer the war continued, the greater the odds that some outside power would seek to take advantage of our division. ‘Twas grim to realize that it might be to Commander Celestia’s benefit if the reivers struck our shores once more. Our eastern shores were in rebel hooves, and raids would require that they remove forces from Canterlot to respond.
From there, we moved to the broader war. With Avalon Vale now in rebel hooves, they controlled the best path to Canterlot itself. Bright had taken command in Rightly’s absence, and had set her forces to encircling the city and cutting off all hope of escape or resupply. ‘Twas a move that suited my tastes perfectly well. An immediate attack ‘gainst our defenses in the tunnels might have pressed our tired army e’en with the damage to their siege engines. Thankfully, ‘twould seem that the battle had wearied the enemy just as much. Or mayhaps they simply felt no need to launch an assault whilst Rightly’s return was being negotiated.
That naturally led to discussing the exchange itself, which Sunbeam briefed us on. “The current offer from the rebels is the return of Copper Spark of the Eastern March and Piercing Cry of the Southern March, in exchange for Rightly Doo. With work, I believe we can also secure the release of a few lesser prisoners, but no more of the greater. We have heard no offer for Hidden Facts of the Northern March and have confirmed that Silver Circle of the Western March fell in battle.”
“And what of either Duke Polaris or his cousin?” One of the few remaining nobles asked. “What price would they ask for him?”
“Nothing reasonable.” Given what I knew of her disdain for Polaris, I suspect Sunbeam would have considered an offer to return at no cost an unreasonable offer. “Let us pray the two of them find a way to escape ere the war’s ending.”
“Two archmagi for a single rebel Ephor is a fine exchange,” Morning announced, carrying herself with a strength I had not seen since her husband’s capture. “If we also name a new Archmagus of the Western March, we shall stand at nearly full strength.”
“‘Tis so,” Sunbeam readily agreed. “Though obviously a proper conclave is out of the question whilst Canterlot is besieged. Equestria’s western territories are yet the freest of rebel control, and I feel ‘twould be best if the new archmagus were placed to rally forces in the region, rather than trapped with Canterlot. ‘Tween that and other concerns, I propose that Magus Mossy Banks be named as the acting Archmagus of the Western March.”
“That is a most unusual choice,” One of the other magi objected. “Mossy Banks has rarely set hoof in Canterlot and has presented little of note to recommend him for the post.”
“He has an army,” Sunbeam countered. “Howe’er small, it is one of the few outside Canterlot that flies Celestia’s colors. And one that will grow larger with his appointment. Already his strikes out of Froggy Bottom Bog harry the enemy’s supply lines. I see no reason not to encourage him.”
“Would that not make him a target of greater importance?” Crossguard asked. “And thus draw more rebel attention ‘pon him.”
“That it would,” Sunbeam agreed, a cruel smirk crossing her lips. “If fortune favors us, the enemy may e’en attempt to send an army into the bog in the hopes of rooting him out. I pity the rebel soldiers who draw that assignment. Banks knows that swamp more intimately than a husband knows his lady wife.”
No others sought to gainsay her, so Sunbeam moved on to the next order of business. “I have noted that the battle casualties took an uneven toll on our forces, particularly the levies. Some contingents are all but unscathed, and others bled heavily. So heavily, in fact, that their viability as independent units is called into question. Given that, I think it prudent all damaged levies are incorporated into Her Majesty’s Royal Guard, as a temporary wartime measure.”
Her remark drew a chorus of shouts from the remaining members of Polaris’ entourage and the other members of the nobility. “You would take our levies from us?” One particularly corpulent and o’erdressed noble thundered at her. “Unthinkable!”
Sunbeam met his sound and fury with utter calm. “Peace, Count. No levies are being stolen. We are simply folding the individual noble levies into a single unified command structure so that we can match the strength of the enemy. Our battlefield tactics require large formations of coordinated ponies, which independent levies are ill-suited to. As I said, this is only a temporary measure brought about by the unique stresses of wartime. (3) All have been called upon to make sacrifices for the good of Equestria during this difficult time. Now, ‘tis the nobles’ turn.”
3: And yet, Sunbeam did not return the private armies of the nobility after the war was over. Though really, everypony should’ve known that ‘temporary wartime emergency measure’ is just a polite way of saying ‘I’m using the war as an excuse for a power grab.’ Losing their private armies effectively neutered the nobility’s capacity to threaten Equestria’s stability or Sunbeam’s centralization of power.
Though there was a great deal of wailing and gnashing of teeth from the nobles, Commander Celestia offered them no reprieve, and with Polaris and his strongest supporters absent nopony could make a case ‘gainst her. Ere long a few of the nobles signalled their concession with reluctant nods, and that opened the floodgate for the rest of them. In light of that, I would not be surprised if Sunbeam had come to some arrangement with a few nobles, to ensure that early swell of support that would break the others’ will.
Grandmaster Crossguard rose to his hooves and offered Sunbeam a slight nod. “I will speak with the levy commanders as soon as possible and see to it that this consolidation is handled as swiftly and effectively as possible.”
“I will be at your disposal, Grandmaster,” I assured him. Given the chance, I would gladly reorganize our forces along Pegasopolan lines. Of course, some cosmetic adjustments would need to be made to spare unicorn pride when Pegasopolis was our enemy, but that was a minor matter. Tribal pride loses all value when it blinds ponies to the grim necessities of warfare. ‘Twould be the utmost foolishness to run one’s army ineffectively, simply to spite one's enemies for using wiser methods.
Greenwall cleared his throat, interrupting my musings. “Beg pardon, but I had a bit of a question ‘bout somethin’. We got any plans for what to do ‘bout the rain? ‘Cause it has been comin’ down pretty heavy e’er since sunrise, an’ from the way the rebels are linin’ up clouds I do not think ‘tis likely to end anytime soon.”
“‘Tis standard Pegasopolan siege doctrine.” I briefly glanced out a window, confirming Greenwall’s words with mine own eyes. “‘Tis their hope the constant rains will wear us down and weaken our resolve. Flooding, I think, is unlikely in a city placed on a mountainside.”
“I would not be so sure of that.” Greenwall frowned out at the streets. “Depends on how long and how heavy the rain keeps up. And if the rebels get any clever ideas, which I reckon they might sooner or later. I would rather not have our sewers backed up and o’erflowing.”
“Quite so.” Sunbeam let out a rather pointed sniff. “E’en if there is no truth to rumors of sludge monsters roaming our sewers, I rather suspect the good ponies of Canterlot would not appreciate seeing their leavings spilling out into the city streets.”
“Not to mention how many limestone buildings we have,” Greenwall agreed. “If any of you had e’er been down in the caves and seen a stalagmite, you know what happens to limestone with enough water and time. Not sure what three months of constant heavy rain like we’re getting right now would do, but I don’t reckon it’d be good.”
“Regardless, ‘twould be best if we disrupted their operations.” I spared another glance out the window, this time taking note of the rainclouds and their distance from Canterlot. “Out of easy spell range. I could attempt a raid with my clan, though the enemy would likely be ready for it. E’en if we succeeded, rainclouds are far more easily replaced than supply wagons.”
“What about the shield o’er the city?” Greenwall asked. “One would think that if it can keep out pegasi, rain would be simple enough. Make it into a large umbrella, and the rain would no longer trouble us.”
Commander Celestia bestirred herself from her throne, as she was still the custodian of that spell. “Sadly, it is not that simple. Currently, the shield enchantment places minimal burden on the pony or ponies maintaining it so long as there is no active pressure ‘gainst it. That is why it normally allows wind and rain through. Creating a large enough screen to deflect an entire city’s worth of rain, and having the constant pressure ‘gainst it from the unending water, would quickly drain anypony save myself—and e’en I would find it burdensome to sustain, especially whilst also reserving enough strength for other threats.”
“Perhaps we can block the rain in cycles, then,” Sunbeam suggested. “Allow it for a few days, then hold it at bay long enough for the city to dry.”
“That was my intention,” Celestia readily agreed. “With luck, the effort of sustaining a constant downpour will drain the rebels more than our own sporadic defense ‘gainst it. I will, of course, make a point of raising the rain shield long before ‘tis urgent, and holding myself ready to release it should the rebels seek to attack whilst my energies are divided. And I may be able to use the sun itself to disrupt their weather efforts.”
I know that there are many who questioned whether Commander Celestia played an active enough role in the war. I will say here and now that while I was saddened by her refusal to take the field alongside her soldiers, she did not simply sit upon her throne and do nothing while better ponies fought and died in her name. There are many kinds of battles, and many forms that service in war can take. (4)
4: I find this particular passage rather intriguing, primarily because popular consensus at the time was very much the opposite of what Shadow feared—perhaps Shadow was more concerned for her own doubts than those of the general public.
Celestia’s reputation was secured by Sunbeam Sparkle’s personal account of the war, published a year after its conclusion and for some time considered the definitive telling of the war from the Loyalist point of view. Having read that book as part of my research for this project, I can confirm that it is an immensely entertaining work, primarily because its narrative never allows itself to be derailed by inconvenient yet easily changed facts. What is interesting, however, is that they spend more time praising Celestia than even Sunbeam herself. For all her private displeasure with Celestia’s leadership, Sunbeam Sparkle chose to use her memoirs to rehabilitate her damaged reputation. I’m not sure if that’s incredibly selfless, or if Sunbeam was just such a political creature that even her autobiography was just another means of securing her goals. It’s a pity we don’t have any real account of her thoughts.
“I would also suggest we check the water pumps in the mines,” Greenwall advised. “They have not failed us in the past, but many tunnels have been collapsed, and others fortified in recent days. ‘Twould not do to have our soldiers under the mountain drown at their posts when we must allows the rains through.”
“Prudent,” Crossguard readily agreed. “Mayhaps we could e’en arrange to flood some of those tunnels which could not be fortified or blocked.”
“Preferably flood them after they are filled with rebels,” Sunbeam suggested. She noted the old knight’s disapproving frown and gave an annoyed flick her hoof. “Aye, I am sure ‘tis dishonorable to drown our enemies instead of stabbing them, at least by thy reckoning. That does not change the prudence of it.”
To my surprise, I raised my voice in her support. “Trickery and ambush are legitimate means of conducting warfare. Our enemies know that in attacking a position we have had ample time to fortify, they place themselves at risk for prepared traps. ‘Tis no more dishonorable than our soldiers refusing to inform the enemy of our tactics and deployment for an upcoming battle.”
Crossguard looked to Greenwall, and the earth pony signalled his accord. E’en his own subordinates within the Order of Sol Invictus did not seem eager to dispute the reasoning. While he would be within his rights to reject all our council, ‘tis rarely wise for a leader to refuse the advice of all his trusted subordinates when they are in accord against him. “Then so shall it be. I confess that it sits ill with me, but there is little about this war that I find pleasing.”
Crossguard shifted in his seat, turning to face his subordinates and share a few whispered words with them ere he continued. “Our efforts to fortify the entrances into the mines continue apace. Without siege engines, the rebels will be hard-pressed to break through the tunnels and will spend much blood to do it.”
One of his subordinates produced a small model of one of the tunnels, now blocked from floor to ceiling by a miniature wall with a single thick door. The interior of the wall had platforms, arrow slits, and murder holes to allow the defenders to harass the enemy. “Our engineers have done good work, though more hastily than I would have liked. ‘Tis my hope that these early walls will allow us time enough to build better ones behind them. Though I fear that if we can block all paths with properly sited walls with thick foundations, ‘twould simply encourage the enemy to tunnel ‘round us.”
“Sapping will be slow going,” Greenwall opined. “All the usual care must be taken and more. While the rebels likely have miners who know the tunnels, they will have none who know the full extent of our recent changes.”
“Aye, if naught else the walls are useful for restricting our enemies’ movements.” Crossguard waved a hoof o’er the latest map of the mountain’s tunnels. “However, the further they press us back, the more options they gain for flanking us by digging. And if they can secure a path that allows them to exit the mountain from within the shield, we are likely to lose the city unless they are quickly contained. Every step they take within the tunnels opens new directions they could mine, so we must ensure they pay in blood for their advances.”
Crossguard continued his briefing, moving now to the matter of how our formations would be adapted for tunnel-fighting, but Gale’s hoof on my shoulder drew my attention from him. I turned to face her. “Is something amiss?”
“Stalwart has returned.” She glanced to the side, and I noted the sergeant’s entrance as he made his way to join our contingent. There was a grimness to his countenance I had not expected to see, given that he was come from a final meeting with his wife and child. Though ‘pon further thought, ‘twas perhaps not so surprising, given that whatever joy the reunion might have brought would be tempered by his recent departure. I also noted a wrapped bundle strapped ‘cross his back with idle curiosity, though I assumed it to be some token from his family. I offered the sergeant a single nod to acknowledge his return, then attended Crossguard once more.
The briefing was some time in ending, though much of its remaining time was devoted to matters of logistics and diplomacy rather than the battlefield. Though ‘twas undeniably vital to know the state of our supplies now that the rebels would make it all but impossible to gain more, I will confess that I have always considered supplies in more abstract terms. I hardly needed know exactly how many tons of wheat, carrots, and potatoes we currently possessed, and the details of their disposition. ‘Twas enough to know that with reasonable rationing restrictions in place, Canterlot had enough food to see it through the winter, though not much longer without further measures.
The Royal Gardens and any other suitable land was already being put to the task of growing food, but ‘twould do little more than delay the inevitable. Whilst gemstones would be in ample supply, wood and iron would both be far more limited. Firewood looked to be a problem, come wintertime. Not only were supplies low, but given our current troubles with the rain, one could safely surmise that our winter would be a cold one. Colder still, if the old legends of what happened when ponies fell to discord and infighting held any truth to them.
That left our situation plain enough, if grim. Victory, or least an end to the siege, must come ere winter was ‘pon us in full. At best, the cold would place us at a severe disadvantage. At worst, it might unleash horrors out of legend ‘pon all Equestria.
Once the general briefing was concluded, the bulk of the ponies present in the room departed, leaving only myself, Crossguard, Sunbeam, Gale, Stalwart, and the Commander. Normally I would have asked my sergeant and daughter to depart with the others, but I judged it likely that they would not have remained if without good cause to do so. The others seemed to have reached much the same conclusion, and ere long all looked to the sergeant expectantly.
The sergeant did not seem terribly pleased to be the focus of our attention, and took a moment to gather himself ere he approached me. His mouth opened as if he intended to speak, but no words came out for some time. At last, he removed the bundle on his back, presenting it to me as he spoke with grim formality, “Milady, I was asked by Cyclone Cumulus and Bright Charger to grant these items to you ‘pon my return, as they are yours by right of blood.”
“Oh?” I misliked the grimness of his tone, and the cold formality of it. I turned to the bundle with some trepidation, slowly unwrapping it. Within, I found two wing blades of the finest quality, battle-worn by many years of hard use, yet freshly polished. It also contained two flight feathers whose owner I instantly recognized. There was only one reason I could think of for Bright to send me my father’s wing blades and two of his pinions, though I did not wish to credit it. A sick feeling settled into the pit of my stomach, a hollow emptiness that felt as if it could consume me.
Gale let out a soft gasp as she realized the implications. “Grandfather...” She swallowed, closed her eyes, and took a moment to gather herself. “How—how did he die?”
Stalwart’s eyes briefly turned to me, and he was hesitant in answering. “He took his own life in shame, Milady Gale. ‘Twould seem many were displeased by his withdrawal from battle without so much as token resistance.”
“Ah.” I should have realized ‘twould happen. Whene’er battle goes poorly, ponies are quick to seek somepony to levy the blame upon. Who better to make a scapegoat than mine own father, who had withdrawn from battle rather than shed the blood of his own kin? Especially when his withdrawal was responsible for the destruction of the rebel supplies and indirectly Rightly’s capture. Loathe though I was to say it, if one were to levy blame for the rebel’s failures at Avalon Vale, it rested with him.
Neigh. That is not the full truth of it. I had placed him in a situation where his only options were to break his oath not to shed the blood of his own kin, or to withdraw from battle. At the time, it had seemed a fine way to gain the victory I sought and cement mine own position as leader of the clan. However, I should have realized that in shaming him enough to achieve mine own ends, I had stripped away too much of his honor. There could only be one result of such an act.
Gale seemed to have reached much the same conclusion, whirling upon me with unshed tears in her eyes. “‘Twould seem thou art the victor in thy contest with Grandfather.” Gale wiped at her eyes whilst waving a hoof at Cyclone’s wing blades. “Enjoy the spoils of thy victory, Mother, for thou hast slain him as surely as if thou didst wield the blades thyself.”
Though her words cut me to the quick, I was hard-pressed to deny the truth of them. That truth did not change the circumstances that drove me to action, though. “I did my duty to Equestria. That Cyclone stood ‘gainst us was regrettable, but—
“Grandfather!” Gale snapped at me. “Do not speak of him by name, as if he were some stranger with no connection to us! Deny him in life if thou must, I grasp the reason why he was cast out. What harm is there in acknowledging him now, though?”
Sunbeam stepped forward. “Gale, thou art o’erwrought, calm thyself. Surely thou knowest that Cyclone Cumulus was cast from thy clan, his very memory damned and all record of him stripped from thy records. He was an enemy of Equestria, nothing more.”
Gale whirled on the archmagus, her teeth drawn back from her lips in a snarl. “Be silent. This is none of your affair.”
“It reflects ‘pon the war effort, ‘tis most certainly of concern to me.” Sunbeam approached my side and lay a single a hoof on my shoulder. “The wellbeing of one of our leading generals is no small matter. I will not have thee drive Shadow into melancholy and mourning for a traitor who was our sworn enemy. Our leadership has suffered enough losses to excessively bemoaning that which is lost as it stands.” Her eyes briefly turned to Celestia, who offered no response to the barb. Crossguard glowered at Sunbeam for the insult directed at his queen, though he did not say anything on the matter.
I brushed Sunbeam’s hoof from me, not caring at all for any defense built ‘pon an insult to the Commander. “There is nothing to be gained in arguing and accusing one another. Cyclone chose to take his own life by his own will. Though I regret the loss, my duty to Equestria required that I seize victory by any justifiable means. I could not sacrifice our cause simply for fear that a stallion who declared himself our enemy and sought to usurp leadership of the clan from me might suffer some dishonor from losing a battle.” My shoulders slumped, and I slowly shook my head, one hoof idly tracing the wing blade. “His death is regrettable, and I take no pleasure in it, but he was our enemy.”
“Neigh.” Gale turned her back on me. “Unicornia’s enemy, and Celestia’s, I do not deny. But he was our kin before all those things. Not e'en Sunbeam would sacrifice family on the altar of duty; I confess, I thought nopony could sink beneath her. He was the stallion who raised thee from foalhood. That cannot be forgotten or denied, simply because...” Gale’s words left her, and she looked about the room to all present, then ducked her head. “I apologize for my outburst and beg your leave to depart. E’en if others refuse to do so, I shall mourn my grandfather, and pray that I am not also cast aside for it. If kinship means so little to you, Mother, then I shudder to think how those kin who do not share your blood will fare. And indeed, if you are worthy of the title at all.” She did not e’en wait for Celestia’s permission ere she departed.
I stared after her in shock at her final words. Ne’er before had she questioned that she was my daughter, and I her mother. Had my actions towards Cyclone created a rift that would cost me my daughter as well?
Silence reigned o’er the room for a time, until Crossguard broke it by approaching me. “Do not let her words cut you too deeply. The young are driven by their passions and prone to words they later regret, especially in difficult times such as these.” He sighed and rubbed at his face. “This is a difficult time for all of us. If you will allow it, I would have words with her on the matter. She would not be the first young warrior who I have had to speak with after they lost a loved one. Death is ne’er easily faced, but I have more experience at it than most.”
“I would be grateful for it.” Mine eyes turned to the door my daughter had exited from. “I will have to make peace with her, but I do not think she would hear my words today.”
He regarded me for some time, then offered a restrained nod. “I offer my condolences on his death. I know there can be no funeral or mourning for the death of a traitor, but there is a difference ‘tween public displays and private mourning. If you have need to speak of your thoughts, I have ponies with experience in such matters who have shown the utmost discretion in the past.”
“My thanks for your generous offer.” I did not think myself likely to accept it, though. I was not some delicate maiden who must wail and moan about her trials and tribulations, seeking comforting words from another. Especially not a relative stranger like one of Crossguard’s ponies, howe’er experienced they might be in such matters.
Crossguard lingered by me a moment longer, then nodded. “As you will. If you need time to gather your thoughts, take it. The enemy is unlikely to strike in the next few days.” Having said his piece, the old knight departed, possibly to seek out my daughter.
Sunbeam returned to my side after his departure, her side gently pressed ‘gainst mine own. “He was correct, Shadow. Better a few days absence than for thee to be at the front, commanding our forces whilst thy mind is clouded.” She paused, then offered a faint shrug. “Mourn him as thou wilt, or do not, ‘tis thine affair. But if thou wouldst mourn a traitor, I advise thee to do so discreetly. I will not have our second-in-command weeping and wailing in public, when morale is at a critical point.”
Despite our new closeness, I needed a moment to fight down my irritation with the mare. “I had no intention of making a production of Cyclone’s death.”
“Of course not.” She paused, then tapped a hoof to her chin. “With luck, some of the traitors within thy clan will seek to return, now that the rebel Kickers have had their leader so soundly beaten. Whate’er thy private thoughts, do not forget that this is a great victory for our cause and should be celebrated as such. ‘Twould not do to have thee seem more attached to our dead and beaten enemies than our own living soldiers.”
“I will not forget it.” Cold though her words may have been, there was truth and wisdom to them. And a firm focus ‘pon my duties made Cyclone’s death seem far less pressing than it had been when first I learned of it.
“Good.” She leaned closer to me, and a hoof gently caressed one of my wings as her voice dropped to a low, breathy whisper. “Though I do not have Crossguard’s skill for wise words, there are other means by which I could offer thee comfort.”
For perhaps the first time in our contentious association, I found myself almost briefly tempted by the offer. A bit of meaningless carnal indulgence would at least allow me to take my mind from the matter for a time. However, I had no intention of sharing such a thing with Sunbeam Sparkle. “I respectfully decline.”
“As thou wilt.” She gave an uncaring shrug and withdrew. “There are other matters I would speak with thee regardless, but there is no urgency to them.”
“Noted.” I watched Sunbeam’s departure, then turned to the bundle, and the sergeant who had brought Cyclone’s last possessions to me. “Stalwart, take Cyclone’s effects to my quarters in the clanhold. I will decide what should be done with them later.”
“By your will, milady.” The sergeant dutifully gathered the items and made his departure, leaving me alone with Commander Celestia.
The Commander left her throne and settled before me. To my surprise, she opened a wing and wrapped it around me, drawing me to her breast. “Shadow, I am sorry for thy loss. So terribly sorry, that thy loyalty to me has come with such a heavy price.”
“I did my duty, as a warrior of Pegasopolis should,” I answered stoically.
“That thou hast.” She bestowed a single kiss ‘pon my brow, then drew me into a full embrace. “I know that thou didst have many differences with thy father, but for all that I know that he would be proud of the mare thou hast become.”
I said nothing, for I could conjure no words to answer her. Cyclone’s ... my father’s death was a painful thing to think upon, especially in these dire circumstances. And yet as Sunbeam said, I could ill afford to mourn him.
I was stirred from my thoughts as I felt moisture on my shoulder, where Commander Celestia’s head lay at rest. ‘Twas not hard to guess at the cause, though I could scarce believe that she would be weeping. “Com—Celestia? Is something amiss?
“A great many things are.” She turned her head to meet my eyes, allowing me to see the fresh tears. “Thou hast hardened thy heart in the name of duty, the very duty I have asked of thee. If thou canst not bring thyself to cry for thine own father, than I shall do so in thy place.”
Celestia returned her head to my shoulder, her tears trickling down my back. Despite her words, I think there was more to her tears than my father’s death. I believe she wept for all those who had perished at Avalon Vale, and the other battles of the war. And for all the others who would die ere the war ended.