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Chapter One3,817 words
Chapter Two4,402 words
Chapter Three6,183 words
Chapter Four5,207 words
Chapter Five7,628 words
Chapter Six3,842 words
Chapter Seven9,843 words
Chapter Eight3,892 words

Chapter Eight

July 19th, 1007,

Over. It’s… finally over. As I flip through the pages, it’s only been a little over two weeks, from start to finish. But really, it’s felt like a lifetime.

Technically, my ‘revenge’ isn’t fully complete. There was still Rough Houser to deal with… but when I saw him, I simply didn’t want to bother. I’m done with it.

Not to mention my shoulder felt like it had been dipped in molten lead. The guard whose bolt went stray best hope I never find him… I’ll have a few choice words for him.

I’ve passed surgery to remove the bolt head, my foreleg is regaining function, and the threat of infection was stopped. I’ll have a pronounced limp for a long while, and a scar that’ll last forever, but that’s about it.

I have a strange feeling that I’m going to have many more scars before I hang up the cape and cowl for good. That may not be for a long time yet, though. On the contrary, my time as the Mare do Well may only be beginning.

And it’s starting with the Mayor.

I hear Pelleas downstairs. There must be more guards waiting to take me to the Mayor.

Time to go.

-Snow Storm

“Well now, ain’t this a bit of a turnaround?” Bolt Buck chuckled lightheartedly, standing next to the hospital bed Snow Storm lay upon. If her face was anything to go by, she failed to see the humor in the situation. Primrose jabbed him with a sly crook of her elbow, eliciting a wince out of the pegasus. “Ouch, okay, geez, my ribs still hurt take it easy.”

“Snowy… how are you feeling?” she asked with sympathy. Even as monstrous as he was, seeing Bloodshot die before her very eyes must have effected her to some degree.

Snow Storm would’ve shrugged in indifference, were it not that even such a simple act could set her shoulder on fire. Or worse, break the stitches that were the aftermath of the surgery to remove the bolt head from her body.

“Well, the good news is that you should make a full recovery within three months of bed rest and taking it easy… which I’m sure translates into ‘you can go now,’ in your head,” the Orange’s personal doctor said as he walked into the room.

“So, are you going to see the Mayor once you’re better?” Prim asked her.

Snow Storm nodded, feeling something sour down in her gut. She’d gone through hell, and still the Captain of the Guard saw fit to turn around on her. But why the mayor? she’d asked herself more than once, having had plenty of time to mull it over. Why not just take me straight to this ‘Red Hoof’ himself?

“Pelleas told me he’d be here shortly… right now, I think he needs a little time to say goodbye,” Prim said sadly.

* * *

The funeral felt wrong, somehow. The sky was blue and cloudless, and the sun’s rays blanketed the place to an almost uncomfortably bright degree. Pelleas tried to slip in quietly, but it wasn’t needed; no one paid him any mind regardless. Captain Leaf stood at the podium, addressing the group.

“I’ve never been one for speeches. Spent all night trying to fix something up, but it didn’t feel right. These weren’t just our comrades, they were our friends, and a pre-written speech couldn’t possibly do them justice, so I’m just going to say this; thank you. Your sacrifice, your courage and your valor were what let us bring that beast down. I know I’m hardly the best Captain this city could ask for, but you? All of you, you are the best guards I could hope to work with.. It is an honor to fight alongside you all. Now, I believe Lieutenant Murdoc has a few words…?”

Murdoc stepped up to the podium, his face solemn, and gave his own eulogy.

Aella slumped behind the bar, downing the last of her drink and adding the glass to an impressive collection on the counter.

“Another one?” the bartender asked, filling another one without waiting for an answer. He whistled at the stack of glasses on his counter, and floated them away in his magic. “I feel sorry for whatever it is you’re tryin’ to forget, Missy.”

“Never you mind,” she shot back in a slur, clutching her new drink and holding it close. Maybe this would be the one to erase that day. If not, the next one. Or the one after that.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t have a choice,” a familiar voice said from behind her. “He was a monster. And if you hadn’t done it, the Mare do Well might be…” Flyntt said, not able to bring himself to finish the sentence.

“Don’t you have a memorial to attend?” she snapped, holding her drink even closer in case Flyntt decided she’d had enough. Only she could decide when she’d had enough.

“Drinking to forget… you’ll regret that someday. And I think I drink more than half the guard combined.” He grinned. “But if I really missed them, really cared, I’d hold on to the memories no matter how painful they were. Because even though it hurts, it’s not half the sacrifice they made for the city… for you,” Flyntt mused in an uncharacteristically thoughtful moment.

“Can I at least forget what I did?” She could still feel the crossbow in her forelegs.

“You can try, but one thing I’ve learnt is that the deepest wounds are the ones that never leave. You could drink ‘til you don’t remember your own name, but that night will never go away. Remember what you told me your shrink said? ‘If you run from the past you’ll trip over the future.’ The only way to make sure it never happens again is to stay vigilant. And if you ever need to do it again… I’ll be there to take the shot for you. Besides, I…” he paused, turning away.

“...I killed once too. So at least I know what it feels like.”

“I just wanted it for so long…” She teased her drink, before downing it in one shot before Flyntt could stop her. She waved a hoof at the ‘tender, who complied willingly enough with another glass. “Now that I did it, I don’t want it no more.”

“That’s what killing’s like for us,” he said, taking a seat next to her, “it just means we’ve still got something in us worth fighting for. As for Bloodshot...well, I think he lost that a long time ago. Say, I’ll tell you what; you drink ‘til you’re good and ready, and then I’ll walk you home. It’s maybe not a good idea, but… heck, when have I ever had one of those?” he smiled gently.

“You might be sitting here a long time,” she said.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” he said to himself quietly as she took another sip.

“Mrs. Orange, can I ask you a question?" Primrose came up to the mare while Snow Storm was upstairs. "It’s about what happened yesterday... with Bloodshot… did he deserve what he got? I should feel happy Frosty’s been avenged, but I don’t. I don’t even feel any closure, just… empty. Like nothing’s really changed.”

“An eye for an eye makes everypony blind,” the older mare said. “But… some part of me says yes.”

Suddenly, Pelleas burst through the doors, panting and sweating. “Where is she?” he demanded, clutching his chest as he leaned against the wall. “Guards everywhere, Leaf’s tired of waiting… don’t let her go to the Mayor!”.

The Mare do Well limped down the staircase, walking straight towards the front foyer and the door. A pair of guards waited outside, dressed in darker, more elaborate armor than the city’s regular guard. She ignored Pelleas' protests, shoving him away forcefully.

“Will you comply, and come quietly?” one asked coldly.

“We’re not a part of the guard you know of,” said the other, “we don’t owe you anything. If you resist, it will be considered a crime.”

She shrugged, and nodded. Like ripping off a band-aid, it was better to just get this over with.

* * *

When Snow Storm arrived, she was surprised to see just how elaborate the Mayor’s office was. Paintings adorned the walls, no doubt of previous holders of the position. The carpeting was lush, and the chair she was offered was easily the most comfortable she had ever sat on.

“So,” a shrill voice came from the chair in front of her, which was turned away. “I’d ask you to explain yourself, but my understanding is that speech is a rather difficult matter for you… would you like a pen? Paper, perhaps?”

She only stood there, waiting. The mayor had dismissed the guards, which was something.He trusted her that far, at least.

“...As I’m sure you can understand, as Mayor I have certain… obligations to the public. Sometimes concessions must be made for the greater good… ah, but a hero such as yourself must be more than aware of the importance of sacrifice? You see, as much as it pains me to admit it, I am not the absolute power in this city. I can only act within certain parameters…” he said, turning around at last.

Snow Storm had to hold back a laugh at the sight of his ridiculous haircut, which hung over the side of his head in what was likely meant to be cutting edge fashion, but made him resemble a poodle more than anything.

“I suppose you find my appearance amusing?” he remarked coldly, swiveling back around in his chair. After a few moments, he placed a glass eye on the table behind him- she hadn’t even noticed he was wearing one. “It helps to distract ponies, at least. Anyway, regarding chess… I would consider myself the ‘King’. Of unparalleled importance in ensuring victory, but slow. Powerless. A burden even… but you? You can do what no others can. You move freely, ignoring all rules, capable of decimating the board. To the city, you have become the Queen in this particular game of chess… and an associate of mine is very, very unhappy with that state of affairs. Especially since you have just taken his prize piece… have you nothing to say to all this?”

She shook her head, still preparing for something, anything, to jump. The mayor could turn on her as easily as that Captain did, and undoubtedly would just to keep his own flank safe. Of that much, she was sure.

“You think I’m just a puppet, a figurehead, don’t you? What if I told you the only reason you hadn’t been killed up until now is because I’ve been in intense negotiations with the Red Hoof since your first appearance? I told him you were likely just a child playing pretend, or a madmare enacting her bizarre delusions on the populace, of no real threat… but you’ve managed to prove me wrong. So tell me,” he said, throwing her a scroll and placing a quill and ink before her, “Are you now aware of what the Red Hoof will do, now that his champion is dead? I had to beg him to reconsider, and in the end he would only accept the following ultimatum…”

He cleared his throat, apparently unhappy with having to play messenger to this tyrant, “Either cease your actions immediately or you will suffer the consequences. If your own life means nothing, we will find other ways to make you submit. We will make you beg for death, if need be.”

The mayor snorted out a humorless laugh. “That’s what I’m supposed to tell you…” He drew the curtains of his large window, shut any vents in his office, and walked behind the Mare do Well to lock the door. She half-turned, following his movements just in case.

“Now, here’s what I’m going to really tell you. I’m tired of living under the Red Hoof’s black cloud. I’m tired of dancing when he tells me to dance, of asking ‘how high?’ when he tells me to jump. This is my city, not his, and it’s about time I get it back. And you’re going to help me with that.”

Snow Storm began to write, and several minutes later she handed him the note.

‘Your ‘Captain’ fed me the same story just days ago. Said he wasn’t going to stand for the Red Hoof’s injustice any longer… and the second he no longer needed me, he sold me out. Sent me here, and frankly I don’t believe you any more than I believe him. Not anymore. So no. I’ll take him down, but I won’t be your lapdog any more than I would be the Red Hoof’s. My name is Mare do Well, and I answer to no one. When the night is cold and the monsters of this city rise up, I will be there. When the downtrodden are forgotten about by you and your ivory tower, I will be there. Not for you. For them.’

“Did you never stop to consider that I told him to arrest you?”

‘Of course you did. Why else would I suffer your presence? You’re as spineless as he is. That’s the reason why I won’t stop. Because this city needs me- I’m all it has, with pathetic foals like you and Leaf in power. Now stop wasting my time and let me leave, I’m tired of hearing your voice.”

The mayor read this, his frown growing with each line. “If you could possibly pull your head out of the clouds for one moment?” he requested sardonically. “Gilded Leaf acted under my orders to keep suspicion away. More than enough of the Red Hoof’s lackeys wear this city’s Guards armor, and I’m sure even now they’re reporting to their illustrious boss of your capture.”

‘So? What’s your point?’ the mare responded, leaning up against a wall after she tossed him the note.

“The point, my dear, is they’ll report what they saw. And what they saw was Leaf being a good little puppet. What they didn’t see is Leaf did it for me, not for the Red Hoof. You’ll have to forgive me for all of this cloak-and-dagger nonsense, but our common enemy sees much. Too much. And this was the safest way to get you to me.”

‘So what’s next? Even if I do decide to go along with your plans, you’ll be buying yourself days, a week at best ‘til he knows the score. What is it you need me to do?’

“A pony like him needs to be brought down piece by piece - to attack him head-on is suicide. Keep undermining him at every turn. You helped to bring down his rabid beast, so I’m quite convinced you’re capable of anything. You are the wildcard here, Mare do Well. He has nothing to hold over your head. Without a face, you can’t be blackmailed into submission.”

‘I hope you’re right,’ she wrote.

A fire crackled softly in its stone hearth, radiating a comfortable warmth like a blanket. Both an ornate chair and its occupant sat facing the fireplace, the stallion staring into it, lost in thought.

His ear twitched as a door behind him opened with just a hint of a creak. Remember to oil the hinge. “Abacus, my dear,” the stallion said without looking, his voice a smooth baritone. “Pray-tell you can offer me good news? You almost always do.”

“Sir, we have positive confirmation,” a slender, pretty young mare said to a figure that sat in the darkness somewhere on the other side of town. “We have her identity. At least, this pony claims to know it. Should I send them in?”

He nodded, and a mare walked into the room, the dark shadow of the chair obscuring her face.

“Abacus, you promised me this would be the last thing. That if I told you this, you’d leave him alone…”

“Of course, my dear,” Abacus said softly, “We have no need of a treacherous worm like him, and of course had you not been such a valuable asset to us we would have disposed of him weeks ago, but-” she said before being cut off by the Red Hoof.

“Enough of the formalities. I would know what you know.”

“I need your word that you won’t hurt him. Please, for my sake, just promise me that much. I know you never go back on your word.”

“You are in no position here to negotiate,” the Red Hoof said coldly.

“Is it so much to ask? He’s worth nothing to you, and this information is worth everything!” she said angrily.

“Abacus? Remind her of her place. She seems to have forgotten it.”

Abacus nodded, and slapped the mare across the face.

“Until I get your word,” the smacked mare spat angrily, rubbing her stinging cheek, “you get nothing. I would die before giving that information away for free.”

“‘For free’,” the Red Hoof echoed, tasting the words. “It’s sad to see loyalty having a price, isn’t it Abacus?”

“You think I’m doing this for personal gain? I don’t care about money, or possessions. But he is my everything. If she could forgive any form of betrayal, it’d be this.”

Not that she will… oh Snowy, I am so sorry… the mare thought to herself.

“Of course.” The Red Hoof chuckled mockingly, sending a shiver down the mare’s spine. “One life for another. Quite noble of you.”

“There’s nothing noble about it. It’s selfish, and she’ll never forgive me, and…” She began to tear up, but held it back. Showing weakness here would do her no favors.

“Her name is… her name is…”

It’s too late. I’ve betrayed her. I might as well finish what I started.

“Her name… is Snow Storm. The daughter of the Orange family,” she said, hanging her head in shame.

“See?” The Red Hoof said. His tone was soothing, but the layer beneath it was a sheet of ice. “That wasn’t so hard, Primrose.”

“Can I go now, please?” she said, her tone sounding more like a filly’s than a mare of her age.

“As you wish.” He waved his crimson booted hoof in a dismissal. “Abacus? Come to me.”

After Primrose left, Abacus turned back to the Red Hoof.

“Will we be leaving Bolt Buck alive? My sources suggest he no longer has anything of value to divulge to the Mare do Well regardless, sir.”

“Abacus, do you trust me and my judgement?” The Red Hoof asked suddenly, catching her off-guard.

“With my life, sir.”

“Will you question my sanity if I were to tell you to leave the Mare do Well alone?”

Even her years of restraint and mental discipline could not contain her reaction. She stammered at first, staring wide-eyed at the back of his chair. “What!?” she finally managed, gaping in disbelief at what she had just heard. “Leave her alone!? I went through all of this trouble, just to leave her alone! We-”

The flames of the fireplace danced on the bright crimson boot he raised. Her rant stopped immediately. “She will be on high alert,” he explained. “We must let her think she’s won this day. That she’s scared us. Now that I have an identity… I hold the high ground once again. So we just let her get complacent, that’s all. They always get complacent.”

“... Fine. But I’m worried our informant may get cold feet, and soon. What would you have me do with her?”

“What does it matter? We have the Mare do Well’s name, and we have her family. That mare is no longer useful.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her. If she informs this ‘Snow Storm’ of what took place here tonight…”

“Then the Mare do Well hates whom she thought to be a friend, and grows paranoid. Yes, what a tragedy that would be,” he said sarcastically.

“Of course. Oh, and regarding Bloodshot… should I go to the griffon kingdom for a replacement? There are several candidates I had already lined up for this unfortunate inevitability.”

“No,” he said sharply. “Those creatures cannot be trusted. I have… somepony else in mind.”

“Very well. Then, if there’s nothing else, I shall take my leave.”

“There is one other thing, actually…”

“Sir?” she turned, intrigued.

“Abacus, my feelings are hurt.” He chuckled sardonically, showing just how ‘hurt’ he was. “I don’t think the mayor of this city likes me very much anymore. Would you be a dear and do something about that?”

“After last time, I was certain he’d have seen things our way…” she said coldly, “He must have grown delusional at the presence of this new ‘champion’... have you anything in particular in mind? Perhaps I should take an ear this time…”

“Please, surprise me, dearheart.” A knot popped in the fire. “You always do.”

Snow Storm lay in bed, noting with irony that now, at her first real opportunity for rest in over a week, she couldn’t sleep. Bloodshot’s glassy expression haunted her, as did the dead bodies he had left in his wake. She kept trying to think of her brother, of the good she had done… but it felt as is the dark cloud that had hung over her for the past five years was now crackling with lightning. If anything, she felt worse for having finally gained her revenge. For there was no replacing the things that had been taken from her.

'Frosty… was it all for nothing? You’re just an echo in my mind, now. It may not even really be you… I miss you. As terrible as it sounds, I’d trade everything I’ve accomplished to have you back.'

Better get over yourself quick, his voice responded, to her surprise. There’s going to be even more bodies down the line.

‘Then what use am I? I couldn’t save them. When the time came I didn’t even manage the final blow… I was saved myself as much as I saved them. It really isn’t like the comics at all, huh? I may not get so lucky the next time….’

She felt the world begin to swim in front of her, and finally closed her eyes. Perhaps Luna herself knew of her actions, because for the first time in years her dreams were peaceful and pleasant, and in the silence of the night a single word escaped her lips, unheard by even herself.

“Frosty.”

Author's Note:

Artimae: And here we have it. Frankly, I wasn't sure it was ever going to come. I've started stories before that never led anywhere, that got half-way through before dying. To have the first story in a long series is quite a personal milestone, even if it is only 8 chapters long. I admit, I wish I could make it longer, but revenge stories are usually short. And I suppose that's not the number that counts, is it? 44,000 words is respectable as a novella-length story. By the standards of a Manuscript (which is about 250 words per page), it'd be about 179 pages.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

Enjoy the tale. Snow Storm has several stories in her yet. I'm aiming for six, she may have seven.

After she's done, though?

I already have a successor of the cape and cowl planned out and ready to go.

Post Script: You wouldn't believe how ironic that opening line is. Because even though we took far, far longer than two weeks to write it, this story really felt like we began it a lifetime ago.

But anyway, onto the chapter itself.

For me, this was the moment where everything came together, where most of the loose ends are tied up. It's not all smiles and laughter, however; Poor Aela will be stuck with blood on her hooves for the rest of her days, the Guard have lose a number of dear comrades, and Snow Storm herself has been stabbed in the back by the pony she thought she could trust the most... no, this is far from the end, my friends. This is only the beginning.

I would like to thank Artimae for letting me be a part of this world he's created, Starryfish for the gorgeous cover art she provided, and you, the reader, for sticking it out with us 'til the end. I hope you enjoyed the story and will return for the sequel.

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