Peace

by Masterweaver


The Faceless Foes

She said nothing, made no sound as the pink mare slammed her hooves against her again and again, cursing and screaming with all her might, because she knew, she knew she deserved so much, much worse.

A blue pegasus and a gray pony grabbed the mare and pulled her back, pulled her away, and the gray mare did... something, some tune, a hoof through the mane. The pink one's eyes still brimmed with well-deserved hatred, but her body relaxed, rested, waiting until it would need to strike out again. The blue pony reached out a hoof, offering but not forcing assistance, some apology falling from her lips for the pink one, saying she had bad days, that she needed help and couldn't get it, that what she did wasn't right.

Her eyes traveled up the hoof to the metal wing, then focused on the rainbow mane.

She knew this pony.

This pony, in the haze of the forgotten days. Diving. Her helm's constant whispers weren't particularly strong that day; they didn't need to be anymore. In the heat of the battle, she'd simply sidestepped and twirled her sword, and... most ponies would be dead, but this one got up, red splattered on her eyes, and her sword slammed out of her hooves.

She curled in on herself, her already dull luster fading to black. Dimly she heard the cries of panic, cries for a medic, and worry... not for her, for she didn't deserve it, but for the pink one who might end up imprisoned. She heard the pegasus snap at the gray mare.

Half remembered words from the helm surfaced, tantalizing taunts and threats, warnings that her daughter, or was it son, or maybe sister would be broken if she ever failed. She couldn't remember what they were, how they looked, did they even exist...

The pegasus snarled at the two earth ponies, wings spread wide---

no

No, they were friends. They could not break up over her.

She reached out, not for the blue hoof, but for the pink one. She reached out, beckoning her close. She reached out, trying to be seen. And miracle of miracles, the gray pony noticed, eyes widening.

The pink pony was released.

One step, then another. The blue pegasus stood in the way, but she would not let the Lordmaster break her brother, mother, father? She crawled around the pony, pain screaming screaming until at last the pegasus stood aside, and the pink mare, hatred giving way to confusion, was close. She tried to speak, she coughed. She gathered. She said.

Three little words, she said, before the world faded out




























































and back in, the strange sound of invisible bells that were so common to the world now telling her she was, again, in a house of healing.

One of the soft healers came then, smiling at her. She preferred the soft healers, who looked her in the eye while they tended to her wounds, where the hard healers came with words about the reasons behind pains and how they would last and what to do to stop them and treated her as a problem to be solved. It was a shame that the healers had become so divided over the years, each one dedicated to making ponies whole, but in such different ways that only working in tandem could they.

Visitors? Perhaps it was her family, if she had any. She frowned. Wasn't she doing... something? Something important...? She would take the visitors. The soft healer looked... surprised at that. But, yes. The visitors could come.

They stepped in. Gray, pink, blue. And suddenly she remembered what it was she was doing.

She looked at their eyes in the silence. Shame. Shame from all three, but for different reasons. The pink one had her eyes downcast, ashamed of her actions. The gray one had her ears folded back, ashamed of herself. And the blue one, damningly, was ashamed of the other two, her hoof kicking against the ground.

It was the pink one who spoke first. One word, one question. Then, quickly, her squeaking voice clarified what she meant.

She simply pointed, first at the gray one, then the blue. They were confused, but the pink one understood. The pink one looked at them and understood. And she wept.

The gray one tilted her eyes toward the pink one. A hoof reached out. A tune. The blue one's eyes snapped toward her, but she held her own mouth shut.

After a moment, she felt strong enough to clear her throat. She waved at the gray one, and said the same three little words.

And then, while the gray one stared at her, she spoke. She spoke of family, of friends, of the bonds that fueled and faltered. She spoke of the whispers of the helm, how they took those bonds and perverted them, used them to fuel depravity. She spoke of the deeds she committed, of the kills and near-kills, and her eyes drifted to the metal wing.

And from there her gaze spiraled up to the shocked ones of the pegasus.

Three little words, she said, but not the same this time. The first was the same, and the second very similar, but the third oh so different. And then, four more, a question, that struck right at the heart.

Blue and gray and pink all froze.

And blue... blue sighed. Blue sat down. Blue looked at her steel wing. Words, more words, about how she thought the helms worked, how she thought it was hate that fueled the war--how she looked to stamp it out where she could.

Only the Lordmaster hated, she explained. The helms were his creation, forged by hate, but powered by love. Hate would burn out, but love, he knew, could last forever.

There was quiet.

Then the pink's tears turned to wails. She begged, begged for something she had already given, but not just from her. So again, again, she said those three little words.

"I forgive you."