• Published 19th Jan 2013
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The Lunar Rebellion - Chengar Qordath



One hundred years after Luna’s banishment, unrest among the three pony tribes threatens to plunge Equestria into civil war.

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Rising Shadows 3

All Canterlot was astir at the news of Manehatten’s occupation. Though the city had already begun girding itself for war, it seemed that the news had lent a new, grim reality to the matter. Where before there had been a sense of eager anticipation and the common pony on the streets talked of glory and victory, now a far darker tone prevailed.

Commander Celestia’s summons to the meeting of her newly formed war council was a welcome honor, if an expected one. Though her new grand vizier might not care for my aid, the Commander was far wiser. Naturally, I asked that Gale accompany me. She had not yet had time to fully brief me on what her agents among the rebels had uncovered, and e’en if she had done so I would prefer to have her close at hoof for any needed clarification.

As we had not yet moved into our newly claimed hold, meeting with the Commander was a simple matter of moving from one room within the palace to another. My daughter briefed me on her agents' findings as we made our way to the council chamber, and the news she brought was less than pleasing. “The earth ponies made not e’en a token effort at defense?” I would not have expected them to fight to the death against impossible odds, but the warriors of Pegasopolis are not prone to laying down their arms. ‘Tis a point of pride that no Pegasopolan army had e’er surrendered en masse to a foreign force. (1)

1: The truth of this particular claim was a matter of some dispute, mostly on account of grey areas over how large a force has to be to count as an army and what exactly constitutes a foreign power or a surrender. Rather than debate that minutia, I would point out the far more relevant fact that Pegasopolis had a long history of heroic last stands, some of which were completely pointless and got a lot of good ponies needlessly killed over a point of pride. Having been in one narrowly-averted last stand myself, I can say with authority that they’re highly overrated.

“Earth ponies can hardly be expected to follow the ways of Pegasopolis, Mother,” Gale offered in their defense. “Though I think we’ve more important matters at hoof than their conduct. ‘Tis not as if a token effort ere they surrendered would have made any great difference to the war’s outcome.”

“True enough,” I allowed. “‘Tis far easier to speak of death and glory when the deaths in question are not our own.”

“I pray we are not put in a position where we could empathize with the plight of Manehatten.” Gale glanced to me, and a note of hesitation entered her voice. “Mother? Art thou certain that thy choice was the proper one? We have sundered our clan and taken up arms ‘gainst the nation of our birth, and to what end? To see Pegasopolis triumphant in the field, while we struggle ‘gainst our own allies in the war’s management?” She paused, then reluctantly added, “I have noted that thine own judgment has seemed flawed in recent days. Mayhaps thou shouldst consider questioning facts you once thought to be inviolable? For the good of the clan?”

I could scarcely believe mine own ears. I took my daughter by the shoulder, and quickly dragged her into an empty side room. Though I was no expert in matters of palace intrigue, e’en I knew that ‘twould be most unwise for us to have any conversation where loyalty was questioned near the war room. “Gale, we are loyal to the Commander. So long as the other ephors of Pegasopolis stand opposed to her, they are our enemies.”

“As you say, Mother.” Gale stood tall. “If it is your will that the clan serve Commander Celestia, then I shall see it done. If ‘twas your wish that we serve Pegasopolis, I would also see that done. My loyalty is to clan and materfamilias, not to an alicorn I had not e’en met until recently.” She turned to me, wearing a troubled frown. “I do not understand your reasons for siding with the Commander in this matter, and in light of your recent actions regarding the former Archmagus, I confess am troubled. If you can deny the plain logic of political reality so readily, how can I blindly trust your decisions on loyalty?”

Her words cut me to the quick. That my own daughter had cause to question my judgment was troubling indeed. If she did so, what might the common bondponies ‘mongst the clan’s ranks think? Much as my pride had bristled at Polaris’s implications, I could not deny that there were many ‘mongst the clan’s ranks who might have cause to regret abandoning Pegasopolis. Our time in Canterlot had done little to reassure them that I had made the proper choice.

I gave long and careful thought to my words ere I answered my daughter. “Celestia is our Commander. As thou wouldst obey me, so I obey her. That is the order of things.”

“And yet both you and she have erred.” Gale’s ears flattened, and she reached a hoof towards me. “Understand, Mother, that I do not wish to seem as if I am denying you or questioning your right to my loyalty. I am simply troubled by the matter, and would have your assurances that this is a proper course of action for our clan.”

Ah. ‘Twould seem that more would be required to calm my daughter’s concerns than a firm reminder of her place in the clan. So be it then. “Celestia has a vision for the future of Equestria. One I feel is worthy of pursuit: a realm of peace, prosperity, and unity. Mayhaps e’en a place where warrior clans need no longer train from youth to make ready for war. I think that a cause worthy of sacrifice.”

“The rebels have their own goals,” my daughter offered by way of response. “Liberation. A restoration of our old rights and traditions. They’ve not said it yet, but I would hazard that they will not allow Celestia to retain Unicornia’s crown; the risk would be too great. The future of ponykind in mortal hooves once more, free to forge our own destiny rather than heed the wishes of undying queens who are more and more distant from their subjects. There is a certain appeal to it.”

“Who is to say that a mortal can rule any more ably than an immortal?” I countered. “Have we not seen the problems of such e’en now? Think what might pass if Polaris were not merely a servant, but if he wore the crown himself. And our own newly claimed clanhold, a testament to the folly of an old unicorn queen. I do not think Celestia a perfect commander, but I think her on the whole an improvement on the likely results of a return to full mortal rule.” I paused, and another thought sprang freshly to mind. “Though I would question their commitment to mortal rule when they march under the flag of Nightmare Moon.”

“A flag that is naught but an empty symbol,” Gale offered in their defense. “Luna is long removed from the world. Though the history books speak of exile, I think ‘tis likely but a polite fiction. A mare with the strength and will to plunge Equestria into eternal night is far too great a threat to be permitted to live. E’en if she did yet live, Rightly is not so much a fool as to put a madmare on the throne.”

“Then what purpose to the flag at all?” I had been as surprised as any to learn that the ephorate had named Luna as commander. ‘Twas more than passing strange, if only because she was in no position to exercise her freshly granted office, thus requiring Rightly to assume the post regardless. I was concerned by the decision, if only because I could not grasp its reasoning. In military matters, one should always be wary when one’s opponent acts in a manner which seems to defy logic. It likely means there is a hidden threat or some vital missing piece of information.

“The flag of Luna serves the same purpose as any flag. Symbolism.” Gale waved a hoof towards the clouds. “The rebels would not have their war shown as mere Pegasopolan ambition, or the acts of a few madponies seeking naught but anarchy and disorder. What better symbol for the desire to create an alternate order in Equestria than that of an exiled queen who once stood as Celestia’s equal?”

“Thou seemest eager to defend their cause, daughter.” I misliked the implication in those words, and was quick to remove it, especially in light of recent events within our family. “Though I understand it well enough. I do not think Rightly a wicked pony fighting for wicked ends, e’en if such is the popular talk in the streets of Canterlot. Though I disagree with him, there is a nobility to his cause I can find credit in. It does not change that I am loyal to Commander Celestia, but I am not blind to his virtues.”

“If both sides have merits and flaws, then what makes Celestia’s cause the better one?” Gale demanded. “It cannot merely be a matter of personal preference, can it?”

In truth, there was an element of that in the matter. There was a connection of a sort ‘twixt Celestia and myself, one that had blinded me to how poorly she was regarded by others. ‘Twas a thing that did not lend itself well to words, and I feared that attempting to explain it might only make it sound as if I were besotted with the Commander. I would not wish my daughter to think such a thing.

“I think that while both ideals have merits, Celestia is far better positioned to see her own vision made into reality,” I explained. “In a century’s time, the ephors of this age will be long dead, and largely forgotten. At best, they shall pass into legend, where their reputations shall be used to support a dozen contradictory positions. Celestia’s immortality spares her that.

“Further, I would say I find the idea of a unified Equestria more compelling than a return to the old ways. The preservation of tradition is rarely a cause which distinguishes itself in the annals of history. I should prefer to see a single unified Equestria to three tribes divided and all too often quarreling with one another. Celestia’s presence has allowed us to forget that in the days of mortal rule conflict amongst the tribes was all too common.” I thought back to the protest in Manehatten, or the troubled attempt at inspections in Cloudsdale. “Of late we have had trouble enough keeping the peace e’en with Celestia struggling to preserve it.

“Then there is the matter of precedent.” That drew a confused frown from Gale, so I elaborated ‘pon it. “The earth pony elections and the crown of Unicornia are matters for the earth ponies and unicorns, yet they will be decided by Pegasopolan arms. Imagine, then, what will happen when next there is a disputed election among the earth ponies, or a succession crisis for the new mortal rulers of the unicorns. Would the pegasi once more declare a victor by force of arms? The delicate balance ‘tween the breeds is already unsettled, and we could easily see the clans granting themselves the right to choose who rules in the other tribes.”

Gale was quick to offer her own counter to my position. “I see no trouble for Pegasopolis or our clan in such an arrangement. The flaws in both earth pony and unicorn systems are readily apparent, and the ephorate could readily mitigate them by selecting the proper rulers.”

“And how long dost thou think the other tribes would tolerate such an arrangement? Especially as those who would rule began courting pegasus aid with concessions and favors?” I waved a hoof towards my nightstand, on which one of Lyequinegus’ works rested. “When last the pegasi imposed too heavily ‘pon the other tribes, they resisted, girding themselves for war and seeking aid wherever they could find it. As the Ephors would not have unicorns inspecting their clans, so the other tribes would not tolerate pegasi imposing on their own government. Mark my words; if the rebels win the day, we shall see another Equestrian civil war within the century.”

Gale was silent for some time, then finally offered a single nod. “Well reasoned, then. I apologize for pressing you so, Mother, but I needed to know that we were acting properly, and for proper reasons.”

“I hope that I have calmed thy fears then, my child.” I set a hoof on Gale’s shoulder, and offered a single squeeze. “These are uncertain times—I should be more concerned if we acted without any fear. Though blind panic will avail us nothing, a small measure of fear is only prudent. Our actions in the coming days will have implications that shall echo across Equestria for many years to come. Such a thing should not be taken lightly.”

My daughter turned to me, a teasing grin slowly creeping onto her face. “Are you saying that you are afraid then, Mother? That the great materfamilias and ephor does, in fact, know fear?”

“I would be a fool if I did not,” I answered.


Commander Celestia’s war council met in a room that still smelt of dust and cobwebs—I would hazard that there had been no need for a war council since the Commander took up residence in Canterlot. More’s the pity that the room could not linger unused for the remainder of its days. Thankfully, the room’s relative disuse meant that it had been spared from the gaudy decoration that so typified Canterlot.

The room itself had a simple enough design. In the center, there was a large map of all Equestria, with the rebels’ current location and likely routes of approach marked out. Around the map itself was a small circular table, largely dominated by the Commander’s throne, though there were seats enough for about half a dozen more ponies. After this close circle came a second, more distant one. I would hazard that the inner circle was Celestia’s most trusted advisors, while the outer was suited to ponies like Gale: present to be involved in the discussion if needed, but distant enough to keep her peace until such time as her knowledge could be of use.

The inner circle of the war council consisted of Grand Vizier Polaris, his cousin Ahfa Polaris, the new Archmagus of Canterlot, Grandmaster Crossguard, myself and Captain Greenwall. The outer circle included Copper and other Archmagi, nobles, representatives of the knightly orders, a few earth pony militia captains, and Gale. Sunbeam Sparkle was notable only by her absence. Commander Celestia occupied her throne, regally silent as she awaited the arrival of all members of the council. Once we had assembled, she spoke. “The council will come to order. Grand Vizier Polaris has prepared a brief statement regarding the current state of military affairs.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Polaris rose and circled the table until he reached the portion of the map showing Manehatten. “For those of you who have not yet heard the news in any form save wild rumor, allow me to state the facts. The Pegasopolan rebels have taken Manehatten, and are coordinating with rebel sympathizers among the earth ponies to arrange a new puppet government. Scrying by the Mage Corps has proven difficult due to the distances involved but we can confirm that rebel forces have been hitting communities near Manehatten to consolidate their position. Thus far, their pattern has been consistent: they enter a community, install a puppet government if the mayor does not declare for the rebels, and add the local militia to their numbers. Though we cannot confirm it, they likely intend to seize Baltimare, Fillydelphia, and rest of the east coast.”

“Do you think the mayors of those cities will surrender without a fight, as happened in Manehatten?” One of Polaris’s noble sycophants interjected, pausing to direct a loaded glance towards Greenwall and his company.

To my surprise, Polaris responded with an annoyed glower at the noble who had spoken out of turn. “I have had the magi contact the governments in both cities. Sadly, the mayor of Baltimare intends to declare for the rebellion, as will many of the communities along Horseshoe Bay. The recent griffon troubles in the region, and the pegasi’s role in ending them, have filled the area with rebel sympathizers.”

Hearing of it reminded me of my own role in the griffon affair. If I had known that my actions would help deliver the region into rebel hooves... Neigh. I could hardly have anticipated the consequences of my actions. Though ‘twas regrettable that the incident led to the local inhabitants joining the rebellion, defending ponykind against the griffon reivers was a just and noble cause. More’s the pity that the locals could not grasp that their one-time protectors had now become a threat to all Equestria.

Not wishing to linger on the thought that my actions might have unknowingly delivered ponies into rebel hooves, I opted to move forward. “What news from Fillydelphia, then?”

“The mayor of Fillydelphia will fight for Her Majesty.” Polaris’s words drew many approving murmurs from the members of the council, which nearly caused his next words to be lost. “But he has asked if we can promise his city relief.”

That his request was unsurprising made it no less troublesome. A city could resist siege for months if the local inhabitants were determined to fight to the last. Doubly so in the case of a civil war, as the Ephorate would hesitate to bring the matter to a swift and bloody conclusion. By all reports, Rightly was framing his war as one of liberation. That claim would be far weaker if it came accompanied by lurid tales of slaughter and devastation wrought upon any who dared resist.

However, a siege is a long and unpleasant business, and one few ponies would wish to suffer through needlessly. Resisting a siege is almost wholly a matter of morale. Ponies will endure months of subsisting on half-rations and sawdust, so long as they believe there is yet hope for victory, but if defeat seems inevitable only the most fanatical would fight to the last. Especially since Rightly would not offer unreasonable terms of surrender to the inhabitants. The promise of mercy and food would tempt e’en the staunchest supporters of the Commander to lay down their arms, especially if no relief was in sight.

Crossguard spoke next. “The levies have not yet been fully gathered, let alone trained and equipped.” The stallion resignedly shook his head. “I do not think it likely we can have an army ready in a timely enough fashion to spare the city.”

“Have to agree,” Greenwall announced. “Mah militia’s still gettin’ geared up and learnin’ how it all works. We’re good enough for handling the odd bandit or monster, but fightin’ in an army’s a whole different kettle of corn. Not to mention we still got fresh ponies comin’ in every day.”

The new Archmagus of Canterlot rose at last to offer her own thoughts. “The magi stand ready to serve the crown.” The mare herself was unimpressive—I had heard it said she would not have e’en been considered a likely archmagus were it not for the fact that her full name was Ahfa Polaris. She carried the looks of her cousin, though accompanied by a slackness of chin and roundness of body that bespoke a life of relative indolence. Likely she had been one of those magi who occupied herself solely with study and research, rather than action in the field.

“My clan is also prepared for war,” I declared in turn. Considering the overall situation, I thought it prudent to offer further thoughts. “However, considering the situation, I do not think it wise to deploy in force against the rebels. For the moment, time favors us. The clans will wish to consolidate their hold on the eastern coast, and will face the struggles of arranging a new earth pony government loyal to the rebel cause, and each passing day brings us greater strength.” I waved demonstratively to Crossguard and Greenwall. “We’ve recruits to train, and fresh forces to gather.”

Polaris considered me, then briefly consulted one of the ponies in his retinue. Upon closer inspection, I was surprised that I had not taken note of the stallion before, as he stood out from the pampered nobles I had previously seen with Polaris. His attire was entirely too sensible, and his face was heavily scarred, with a patch covering his right eye. More than that, he carried himself like a warrior.

Gale noted the object of my curiosity and provided the answers I sought. “That is Famous Spear, former Captain of the Black Company of Freeport. Polaris’s military advisor, ‘twould seem; you should know that he was once a member of the Order of Sol Invictus, ere he was removed from it and turned pirate and mercenary. Crossguard is unlikely to approve of him.”

“Ah.” I suppose I should have been heartened to see that there was at least one pony within Polaris’s own circle who knew the ways of war. However, Freeport was naught but a hive of villainy, and many of the mercenaries who hailed from the city were less than reputable. (2) “I am curious why he is the former captain.”

2: It bears mentioning that the Freeport of Shadow’s time was a much rougher place. The Council of Thirteen and the descendents of ponies exiled in the aftermath of the Rebellion did a lot to clean the place up and clean out the scum. Granted, it’s still the kind of place where you want to keep a wing on top of your bitpurse and avoid going into back alleys after dark, but the condottieri do a pretty good job of keeping the peace, and actually enforcing law and order.

“He attempted to carve out a private fiefdom in Zebrica, after his client refused to pay him what he felt was a rightful wage,” Gale promptly answered. “The endeavour was less than successful, and the Black Company removed him as leader as punishment for his failure. Though he no longer has an army, ‘twould seem his skills are yet in demand.”

“So ‘twould seem indeed.” Though I misliked the thought of employing a mercenary, so long as he advised the Duke well enough in matters military I could accept it. No doubt he provided Polaris with precisely what he required in a military advisor; I could not see this scarred and disreputable blade-for-hire ever eclipsing Polaris in the eyes of the Canterlot.

After his consultation, Polaris at last answered my concerns. “Though time does benefit us, we cannot allow that to translate to inaction. If we seem impotent in the face of this rebellion, those whose loyalties are yet undecided will not be likely to join our cause. What will every other village in Equestria think, if we inform a loyal mayor of a major city that we are incapable of defending him? We must assemble the militia and levies, but how many will answer the call if we plainly state that we are incapable of defending their homes?”

My surprise at his response was considerable, for ‘twas a well-reasoned one. Mayhaps as had been the case with Sunbeam, I had allowed my personal dislike of the stallion to color my perceptions of his competence. It seemed an unfortunate trend, of late. Still, that his argument had some merit did not silence all of my concerns. “Be that as it may, we do not have the strength to meet the clans in battle and destroy them. Attempting to do so would only diminish our own numbers. A city can be reclaimed more easily than a lost army can be replaced, especially when much of our strength rests in the magi.”

Crossguard gave a single nod, then turned to Archmagus Ahfa. “If I may ask, how long does a magus’ training take?”

“From the date of their entry into Her Majesty’s academy? A decade, including the apprenticeship.” The new Archmagus considered the matter, then amended. “Though some of the older apprentices are capable enough in the combat arts, and we have begun shifting to a more martial focus in our training, at the expense of theory and research. E’en so, a fully trained magus will be difficult to replace, unless the war drags far longer than any of us would wish to see.”

Polaris consulted with Famous Spear once more ere he responded. “‘Twould seem we are on the horns of a dilemma, then. Inaction would doom us, but we dare not seek open battle ‘gainst the rebels until our strength is fully mustered. However, I think I have found a solution to our troubles: a limited engagement. We already know they are spreading their forces thin securing outlying hamlets and making their presence known. We will strike at these outlying units, concentrating our forces to gain local superiority, then quickly withdrawing after our victory is secured. Though ‘twill not give us a decisive victory, ‘twill give us small ones, and assure all that the crown’s loyal forces are capable. Further, every minor defeat and inconvenience we inflict ‘pon the rebels will further slow them, and allow us more time to make our own preparations.”

I was duly impressed by Polaris’s new advisor. ‘Twould seem that if the new vizier was a fool in military matters, he was at least a fool who was cognizant of his own foolishness, and had found a means of mitigating it. The strategy he had outlined was not dissimilar from what I might have suggested, were the army mine to command. However, I still did not care for the idea that an o’erambitious politician and an exiled mercenary captain held command of the army, and just because the plan seemed sound enough did not mean I would let it pass without scrutiny. “There are dangers to that course. If you are caught unawares or stumble upon too large a force, ‘twould be difficult to disengage from an enemy who holds a great advantage in mobility.”

“That is a risk,” Polaris allowed. “However, given that the magi are one of the few forces which are both fully ready for battle and not needed in the capital to train new recruits, I think it likely we will rely heavily ‘pon them for these strikes. Magic offers many options for eluding and evading the enemy.”

One of the other Archmagi seated alongside Copper rose to his hooves. “If I might be permitted to make a small demonstration?” Polaris waved his permission, and moments later the entire room was transformed into an open forest. A heartbeat later, we were on an arctic glacier, then in the middle of a scorching desert, and then returned once more to the war room.

The display stirred Archmagus Ahfa from her relative silence. “As I am sure you have gathered, Hidden Facts is an illusionist. Far from the only pony with such skills ‘mongst our ranks. Pegasus speed matters little when they chase mere figments whilst we secure our escape.”

“There are ways of countering such illusions, of course,” the illusionist allowed. “But then, there are also counters to those counters, and so on. Whatever the case may be, I am confident we shall hold the advantage well enough. They will not find us unless we want to be found.”

“Looks like that’s one issue settled, then,” Greenwall opined. “Ain’t sure magic’ll fix everything, but ya can’t fight a war without takin’ some risks. Don’t mean we shouldn’t do what we can to keep the danger down. S’like a game of poker: you can read the table, check your cards, and try to figure out who’s sittin’ on a good hand and who’s just bluffing, but if you wanna win you gotta make a play sooner or later.”

“Well reasoned,” I conceded with only slight reluctance. In truth, I was heartened to learn that there was competence to Polaris’s management, e’en if it meant I would be left out of the fighting for a time. Let him gain the first taste of ‘glory’ if ‘twas so precious to him, so long as he led the army to victory. Likely once he had secured his position and experienced a proper baptism of fire, he would be far more open to allowing me to work alongside him. If naught else, ‘twas likely that Famous Spear would soon disabuse him of the notion that he could win the war entirely on his own. Unscrupulous mercenary though he was, 'twas in his best interest for his employer to achieve victory. The defeated are rarely in a position to pay their debts in full.

Polaris looked over the assembled council, nodded, then turned to the Commander. “I trust our strategy meets with your approval, Your Majesty?”

“It does,” she confirmed. I was duly grateful for the fact that the war council was considered informal enough to spare us the Royal Canterlot Voice. “Though I would ask what forces are to accompany our counter-offensive, and what will remain in Canterlot. ‘Twould not do for the pegasi to steal a march ‘pon our army in the field and make for an undefended Canterlot.”

“But of course, Your Majesty.” Polaris turned to Crossguard. “I can think of nopony better suited to the task of defending our capital or training our new recruits and auxiliaries than the Grandmaster of the Order of Sol Invictus.”

That was a choice I’d quite expected. Crossguard had skill, experience, and prestige of position that could not be ignored, yet Polaris could not risk allowing him to share the field if he would jealously guard the glory for himself. Garrison duty in the capital was the natural solution, and his age was ample excuse for denying him a field command. In truth, I would hesitate to grant him a field army as well; were he of Pegasopolis, he would be a geront by now. Though I knew the ways of unicorns were different, I was accustomed to the ways of my homeland.

Polaris’s next remark was far less welcome. “I have also been informed that Lady Shadow has graciously volunteered her clan’s services to help train our new recruits. Given their obvious familiarity with Pegasopolan tactics, I can think of no better choice for the task of making our own army ready for the coming war.”

I opened my mouth to protest the decision, but reluctantly swallowed my words. Loathe as I was to admit it, he had trapped me quite efficiently. I had already agreed to train alongside the Order and the earth ponies, and attempting to back out of the agreement now would no doubt damage the good will that gesture had produced. Though I was heartened to learn that Polaris would not be an utterly hopeless general, I could not help but wish that he were a poorer politician.


I knew what was likely to come after the war council’s meeting was at an end. Though Sunbeam Sparkle had her own agents in the council’s meeting, I suspected she would seek my company first, if only so that she might attempt to influence me towards her own interpretation of events. While Copper could provide her with the same account that I would, he was already her creature, and there was little to be gained by having words with him that I could not provide as well.

In anticipation of her arrival, I doused the fire and secured the door. Twice, she had entered my room by way of teleportation, but I would not allow such a third time. I suspected that ‘twould be some time before I was wholly comfortable kindling a large fire in my rooms once more. I have more than had my fill with her arriving unannounced and uninvited.

Gale awaited her alongside me, though I was uncertain whether her primary goal was to aid me or merely to be present should the magus bring her daughter to the meeting. Likely some combination of the two. Though I confess I still found the young filly unsettling at times, I suspected that Gale had formed a bond with Midnight beyond simply using her as an asset ‘gainst her mother. Not that I intended to neglect young Midnight’s use in that manner. E’en though circumstances had forced me into entertaining the thought of a reluctant alliance with the foal-slayer, I would be a fool if I did not keep careful watch o’er my less-than-trustworthy ally. I had no doubt that our alliance would last not a moment longer than Sunbeam believed it to be beneficial to her.

In due time, there was a knock ‘pon my door, and I opened it to find the mare I least desired to see standing before me, her daughter in tow. “Shadow.” One of her ears flicked in irritation. “You might have kindled a fire and saved me the trouble.”

“I might have,” I allowed, “if I desired your company, magus. As it is, I merely endure it.”

“Alas, ‘twould seem that you are every bit as unfond of me as ever.” The magus moved forward, but I made no move to stand aside for her. After waiting several seconds for me to stand aside of my own accord, she finally succumbed with an irritated flick of her ear. “May I be welcome as your guest, so that we might speak to one another more easily?”

“So courtesy is not beyond you, given the proper motivation. I am glad to see it.” I stepped aside, opening the door for her. “Be welcome in my dwelling, magus. Though I am uncertain how much I can play the role of host whilst I dwell in another’s home. However, the courtesy is appreciated.” Pity Sunbeam could not bring herself to show any consideration until I forced it ‘pon her.

“I am sure your efforts will suffice.” As she entered, she stepped nearer to me than I cared for, causing her side to brush along my chest, and turned to me with lidded eyes, her voice dropping to a low purr. “And there are some entertainments which are well within your power to offer.”

Ere I could frame an appropriately disgusted response, my daughter let out a loud cough, placing a hoof o’er her mouth. Once the fit stilled, she spoke. “My apologies, I encountered something of such foulness that I nearly lost the possession of my lunch. Mayhaps I am not yet used to the palace air.”

Midnight stepped in behind her mother, gazing up at me and slowly blinking. “Mother is offering to engage in coitus with you, Lady Shadow.” As with most subjects, she spoke of it with unemotional disinterest, as if her mother’s wanton ways were not especially noteworthy. “I thought it best to inform you of such, given Mother’s fondness for speaking indirectly on such matters.”

I struggled to think of a proper response to hearing such words from a young filly’s mouth. Finally, I decided on the safety of formal courtesy. “I had gathered what she intended, but I thank thee for thy consideration in informing me so.” I glanced to my daughter, eager to have her control the situation ere it grew more awkward. Gale answered me with a smile that made it plain she found some amusement in my current plight.

Midnight stared at me unblinkingly for several seconds, then turned to Gale. “Mother has given me permission to play with thee, assuming thou and thine own mother do not find it objectionable. I had hoped we might have a game of chess.” Gale nodded her assent, and the filly trotted to her side, but paused to look back towards myself and her mother. “If the two of you are to engage in coitus whilst we are at play, I ask that you do so in manner which will not disturb us.”

“There is little danger of that,” I assured the filly. My response seemed to satisfy her, and she departed, leaving me in her mother’s company. Once our daughters had removed themselves from the room, I turned upon the former archmagus. “Your daughter is far too young to know of such things, let alone speak of them so plainly.”

Sunbeam met my gaze levelly, showing not the slightest hint of shame. “Midnight’s education is my responsibility, both in matters of magic and in politics. Surely you are aware of the power of the bedchamber in political matters—your own contemporary in the ephorate was quick enough to use her own foalbearing capacity to gain friends and allies within Pegasopolis, yet you named Bright Charger as friend and ally readily enough ere war separated you. And I am to be despised for acting similarly. Alas, ‘twould seem thou art a hypocrite as well as a stubborn fool.”

“Though she be my enemy now, Bright Charger is still your better in every way save loyalty,” I growled at the magus. “Do not think to compare yourself to her.”

“Have a care with such words, Shadow.” The magus stepped further into my rooms, arranging herself on a divan and kindling the fireplace. “Given the current climate, ‘tis unwise to speak so fondly of your current enemies. Polaris already undermines you by saying your loyalty to Celestia is less than absolute. and there are enough who give his words credence without any evidence supporting them.”

“Let them say what they will.” I glared at the magus, daring her to challenge my words. “I am not ashamed to be of Pegasopolis, nor do I deny the bonds I share with my homeland or my former comrades. I only regret that they have lost their way, and pray that they regain their senses and swear loyalty to the Commander once more.”

“A fine bit of fantasy,” she rejoined, “but from what I have seen, stubborn pride is an affliction all too common amongst the ephorate. ‘Tis far too late to hope that they regain their senses, as you put it. In truth, I should be surprised if any of them chose to bend the knee, rather than insist ‘pon death before surrender.” She paused, then fixed a piercing gaze ‘pon me. “Tell me, are you prepared to kill them, if it should come to that? Can you face them across the battlefield and bring your blades to bear? Cut them down, after all your have shared?”

I misliked the question, not the least because I found it more difficult to answer than it ought to have been. I knew that I was committed to my current course, and that I could not remain loyal to Celestia without fighting those I had once named allies. On an intellectual level, I was fully aware of the consequences of that, and had accepted them. And yet, when the question was put to me, I felt a moment of hesitation in my heart. ‘Twould be a lie to say that I felt no disquiet at the thought of darkening my blades with the blood of Rightly Doo, Bright Charger, or Steel Striker. Swift Blade, I would feel less concerned about. (3)

3: The fact that she makes no mention of her father in the list of ponies she might have to fight is a rather interesting omission.

Though I said nothing, I suspect my silence was telling enough. “Ah. Mayhaps Polaris was right to have concerns in that matter. Still, I suspect your hesitation will fade once you cloak it properly in duty and honor. That is how you would present it, neigh? Decide your reasons as you will, it matters little to me whether you call it honor or merely drowning your hesitation in bloodlust, so long as the task is done.”

“That is the greatest difference ‘tween us,” I observed. “In our goals, I suspect we are not so distant as I once thought. We both share the Commander’s dream of a unified, peaceful Equestria. One where privilege and status are the result of talent, not shackles restraining it. Is it not so?”

“‘Tis so,” she confirmed.

“Then the greatest difference ‘tween us is not in our goals, but our methods.” I scowled at her. “I believe there are only a few depravities you would not sink to, if you believed such were necessary to achieve your goals. That, simply put, the end result justifies the means used to obtain it. What you fail to grasp is that final outcomes are inevitably affected by the process which produces them.” I shook my head disapprovingly. “The Commander dreams of a nation of conscience. Your crimes cannot give her that; merely a lie.”

“Conscience, is it?” Sunbeam languidly stretched across the divan, not e’en bothering to look towards me. “‘Tis a speech I have heard many times before, and will likely hear many times hence, though more often from Her Majesty’s lips then thine. ‘Tis my experience that many ponies who speak of conscience truly mean weakness. A lack of will and conviction to see to the cruel necessities of life. Let history judge me a monster, if it will, but I shall deliver an Equestria far closer to Her Majesty’s dreams than she could e’er hope to achieve in my absence. To be frank, Her Majesty has high ideals, but lacks the will to see them brought to fruition.”

I prepared to offer my own rejoinder, but an upraised hoof forestalled me. “Pray, Shadow, let us cease this debate and resume it on another day. Much as I enjoy showing the flaws in your antiquated philosophy, we have more pressing business at hoof.” She rose in her seat, turning to properly face me. “What passed in the war council’s meeting?”

I provided her with the desired account, and concluded with my own thoughts on the matter. “I was told Polaris was a fool. ‘Twould seem that information was less than accurate.”

That earned a mocking laugh from Sunbeam. “Oh, he most certainly is a fool, Shadow, but he is the very worst sort of fool: one who knows that he is a fool. He has some talent for politics, and accounts for his foolishness in other matters by employing the services of those wiser than him. And he is ever wary of any trickery from those with superior intellects. ‘Tis likely why he refused alliance with you: he knows you are intelligent, and he is unused to the pegasus perspective. He likely saw you through a courtier’s eyes, and when you did not act the part of a courtier, he became wary of trickery.” She paused, and a faint smirk crossed her lips. “Your obvious pride in believing yourself the better warrior would not have endeared you to him.”

“Neigh, it would not have.” Though I felt it rather unfitting that a mare with Sunbeam Sparkle’s considerable vanity would lecture me on pride. “Regardless, the mercenary he’s employed seems to know his business well enough. Though I still think myself the better choice, I can content myself to Polaris’s command so long as the orders remain as competent as this first operation.”

“Famous Spear has a reputation for results.” Sunbeam paused, tapping her chin. “I should have thought to secure his services ere Polaris managed it. No matter, though. In addition to his skill in the field, he offers another vital advantage: his contacts among the Freeport mercenaries.”

“We have no need of cutthroats and brigands for hire.” I made little effort to hide the contempt in my voice. “I can respect Famous Spear’s accomplishments o’er the course of his career, but I am glad that he was hired only in his own right, rather than as the first of many blades-for-hire.”

“Quite so,” Sunbeam agreed. “Leaving aside the matter of the mercenaries’ likely conduct and the expense of hiring them, there are the political concerns. Importing foreign mercenaries in the midst of a civil war does create a rather poor impression. At best, our enemies will declare us too weak to fight without foreign aid. At worst, the rebels would claim our cause was beholden to foreign aid, and did not represent the will of the common pony.”

Sunbeam waved a hoof, as if discarding a bit of rubbish. “Still, the contacts are useful. Some lesser aid can be had, and we retain the option should it become strategically prudent, while denying any chance to the rebels to do the same. Not that I expect the rebels would be eager to consort with mercenaries or pirates—they have e’en more to lose from being seen as dependent upon foreign aid than we do. The existing government at least has the virtue of being a known quantity, while the rebels are yet defining how they shall be seen by Equestria. However, just because ‘tis not their optimal strategy does not mean they will not pursue it.”

“I think Rightly wise enough to avoid making such an error.” Though mayhaps Sunbeam would be right that my comment came at least partly from a desire to speak well of one I was still fond of, ‘twould be unwise to underestimate our enemies. “In truth, I think it unlikely that e’en the earth pony militias the rebels are taking for their own will be used for anything beyond rear area duties. Ground forces would deny the clans one of their greatest advantages: the mobility of a flying army. The pride of the clans would also be a factor, as they would prefer victory without the need for allies.”

“Then that is a weakness we can exploit,” Sunbeam concluded. She slowly stretched across the divan, her eyes fixed upon mine the entire time. The cloak she customarily wore to make her status as a magus shifted, revealing the mark of a phoenix emblazoned on her flank. I’ll not speak of what she did with her tail, save to say that certain indecencies were exposed. In response, I averted my eyes. Rather than seem perturbed by my clear disinterest, she offered a low, throaty chuckle. “The devan can fit two ponies easily enough, Shadow. So long as you must endure my company, why not enjoy it?”

“I would find no joy in sharing your company, regardless of our activities.” I glowered at her, and pointedly distanced myself from her. “Dare I ask why you offer yourself so brazenly when ‘tis clear I’ve no interest in what you offer? Are you a creature of such perverse lusts that you must constantly hurl yourself at the nearest pony?”

“Oh, hardly. A common trollop cannot advance so high in the courts of Canterlot.” She let her eyes rest on mine, and slowly returned herself to a semblance of decency. “As for why I would bed you, I can name a dozen reasons for it. I suppose I could begin with the usual flattery about your appearance, but I suspect you would care little for it, and there are far comelier ponies to be found elsewhere. In truth, ‘tis simply a matter of politics: I dislike having allies who have no bonds to me beyond mere pragmatic interest. You may work with me for the war’s duration, but as soon as there is no greater cause I will be your enemy again. However...” She rose from the divan, slowly approaching me. “I have taken your measure well enough to know something of your character. I do not think you could bed a pony and not think differently of them afterwards.”

My lips curled back in disgust at her words. “Then ‘tis naught but another form of control?”

“Control. Power. Yes, that is one of my goals. You would not believe me e’en if I tried to deny it.” She advanced further, moving nearer to me than I cared for. “Whether as Her Majesty’s favored ephor or not, there is much value to be had from binding you to my cause. Once the war is won, ‘twill be us who decide the nature of the peace that follows it. If we stand as one, Celestia would heed our words. We could reshape Equestria in whatever manner pleased us. And from there, our houses would continue to carry on that legacy. Imagine a thousand years of Kickers and Sparkles, hoof-in-hoof, ruling o’er Equestria in Celestia’s name. ’Tis a most pleasing image, neigh?”

I stepped away from the mare, glaring at her. “I care not for such things. I seek only to serve the Commander in whatever capacity she thinks best.”

“Ah, but she ought to think it best to give you full command of our armies,” Sunbeam countered. “Do not try to deny your ambitions, for they are plain to see. We are much the same, you and I. We both seek power, so that we might make a better Equestria.”

Her words filled me with disgust. “I am nothing like you.”

She frowned at my refusal, and her eyes narrowed. “There is one other reason I would enjoy bedding you. I think I would enjoy watching your arrogant pride crumble. That certainty of your own superiority. ‘Twould be indescribably fulfilling to reduce you to naught but a mindless beast of lust and pleasure, writhing beneath my attentions and crying my name in ecstasy.”

I was sorely tempted to strike the mare for her lewd remarks, but I suspect ‘twould only encourage her. I could plainly see that ‘twas her intention to provoke and unsettle me, and I would not give her the satisfaction of doing so. Instead, I opted for a calm yet direct approach. “Is there some particular reason you are being especially unpleasant? I am attempting to cooperate with you for the good of all Equestria, and this is how I am to be treated? Or are you simply testing the limits of our arrangement?”

“Mostly the latter,” Sunbeam admitted with an uncaring shrug. “Though I will confess a certain level of personal distaste, and considerable frustration with your stubborn pride at the moment. Do bear in mind that had you accepted my earlier overtures, much of our current troubles might have been avoided.” She let out a contemptuous snort. “You hold your honor so close to your breast that you are blind to necessity. How much might you have achieved, how many lives might you have saved, if you were willing to show a touch more flexibility in your thoughts?” One of her ears flicked in irritation. “I see now why Her Majesty is so fond of you. Both of you share an insistence on doing what is ‘right.’ I am sure all the ponies who will die for your choices would be pleased to know that you can sleep comfortably in your beds, secure in your smug certainty of your own moral superiority.”

“Fine words from a mare who knows neither honor nor morality,” I growled.

“Tell me, what is honor?” She turned her back on me, angrily pacing about the room. “‘Tis one of the first lessons I was taught during my academic studies: all terms must have a clear and simple definition. And yet, so many ponies insist upon dealing with intangibles of ‘honor’ and ‘morality.’ As if the terms had any meaning at all. I believe in results, and the results of your honor are lacking.”

“And yet, you would bed me if I allowed it,” I rejoined.

She answered with a sneer. “Do not flatter yourself that I do it for any reason other than politics. A few minutes of discomfort at your amateur fumbling is a small price to pay for the gains I could have from securing your loyalty.” She paused, and then sighed and reluctantly waved the matter aside. “However, I did not come here intending a quarrel, and we have wasted enough time at it.”

“That we have,” I allowed. I considered the mare for a moment, then reluctantly nodded. “I do not like you, but we have troubles enough without dissension within our own ranks. As I will follow Polaris so long as his command seems passably competent, so I will attempt to find some accommodation that allows us to interact with one another peaceably.”

“Well said.” The magus offered a respectful nod. “You said Polaris has placed you in charge of training our new recruits? That being the case, I am sure I could persuade a few of my fellow magi to volunteer their time to aid in such endeavours. Though Polaris intends to take the bulk of our magical might with him, some will remain to secure our capital. Shockingly enough, most of those left behind are my friends and allies. Myself included, of course.”

Polaris was nothing if not consistent. ‘Twould seem that he intended to leave anypony who might be in a position to usurp his glory far from the battlefield. It seemed there was nothing for it but to endure his orders. If naught else, forging a new army would make a fine start on actually winning the war. Polaris’s force would, by his own admission, merely stymie the efforts of the rebels and win a few minor victories for symbolic purposes. If Famous Spear’s counsel continued to prove so apt, Polaris would likely allow his political opponents to join him in the field once his own position was secured, and our full strength was ready.

“Naturally, the new Archmagus of Canterlot has assigned me a number of tasks intended to keep me far too busy to plot against her.” Sunbeam let out a darkly amused chuckle. “Or at least, that was her intention. It seems she has rather underestimated my abilities. Might I offer you a boon, in recognition of our new understanding with one another?” She waved a hoof over my blades and armor. “Since you will not be having any use for your wargear in the immediate future, I will see to its improvement. The spellwork on them is competent, but I could make it far better.”

“That would be appreciated, though I would ask that you inform me of any alterations you make beyond simple improvements.” I had no doubts that a magus of Sunbeam’s skill could substantially improve upon the rather simple spellwork ‘pon my arms and armor. A keener blade and a breastplate that could resist a harder blow were always welcome, though I would have to ask Copper to check my armor for hidden traps or unwelcome surprises once Sunbeam had finished her work. Though I did not judge outright betrayal likely, I would not be surprised if she prepared some hidden spell as insurance ‘gainst the possibility that I might become her enemy.

“Very well then.” The mare looked over my armor. “Might I offer my aid in removing your gear? As I understand it, plate is far more easily removed with another’s aid.”

“I accept, on the condition that you not use the opportunity to make any lewd and unwelcome gestures, acts, or remarks.”

“Have some faith in me, Shadow.” Her horn lit as she set to undoing one of the straps on my armor. “We are allies, are we not?”


I had some difficulty finding rest that evening. Though the day had been busy enough to leave my body weary, my mind was still very much astir with thoughts of all that occurred o’er the course of the day. Though the beds in Canterlot were far too soft for my tastes, such was normally not a pressing issue when sleep beckoned. This night, however, I could not find a position that pleased me, and always thoughts of the war and my place in it lingered within my mind.

Sunbeam had accused me of hubris. Much as I misliked the accusation, I found it troublingly difficult to disprove. Had I not been utterly certain that I and I alone could properly lead Equestria’s armies? That if Polaris had the position, it could only be the product of error or deceitful manipulation? Yet he seemed to have the task well in hoof, other than minding the needs of his own pride. I was hardly in a position to criticize another for falling prey to hubris.

E’en in the matter of leaving myself and Crossguard in Canterlot, there were reasons for it. I myself had noted that Crossguard was too aged to risk enduring the hardships of a campaign in the field, and my own clan could do much to help ready our armies for fighting ‘gainst the rebels. Much as the idea of remaining in the capital while other ponies fought and died sat ill with me, mayhaps this was the better role for me. Training our levies would bear far richer fruit than attempting to employ my clan in the field. As Polaris had noted, we could hardly take to the skies ‘gainst the combined might of all the clans. Polaris’s current plan relied on spellcasting, something my ponies were in short supply of.

After trying in vain for more than an hour to take my rest, I gave the effort up as a lost cause and rose from my bed. If I was to be awake, I could at least find some productive use for my time. I attempted to find a suitable book to occupy my mind, but it seemed that while I was not tired enough to sleep, I was far too weary for Lyequinegus or Platrot. I have found that often the mind tires more swiftly than the body.

Given that, I chose to bring my body to an equal state of exhaustion. Though I might have merely run through some basic exercises within my rooms until my body demanded a return to its bed, such had little appeal to me. I can name no specific reason for it, ‘twas simply a passing preference. Likely ‘twas that I had not yet fully accustomed myself to sleeping within buildings of stone. Though I’d taken my rest in the palace and other ground dwellings many times in the past, I was only truly at home in the clouds. Though I could normally manage the unfamiliarity of the ground well enough, when my mind was already troubled by other matters, it weighed far more heavily ‘pon me. I felt an urge to see the sky, mayhaps e’en spread my wings and fly.

I walked the palace corridors nodding in passing to the guards watching over the sleeping palace as I passed them. Though I had no particular destination in mind, my hooves carried me towards the gardens, seemingly of their own accord. That seemed as good a place as any to go, and I could no doubt find some relatively private corner of them in which to practice maneuvers with my wing-blades. Though I like to think myself a skilled warrior, that was the product of a lifetime of training, and must be honed at regular intervals.

Ere I could find a suitable location for my practice, I came across a sight that put all thoughts of martial pursuits from my mind. Commander Celestia had secreted herself within one of the many private corners of the gardens, and my own search for a place of privacy had brought me upon hers. (4)

4: This does seem like a bit of a coincidence. I wonder if perhaps Celestia used some sort of spell to subconsciously summon Shadow to her location. That would be a useful trick. Or maybe she just spotted Shadow going out for a walk, and put herself in Shadow’s path.

The Commander sat beneath several trees, looking up at a gap within the branches towards the night sky. When I followed the direction of her gaze I saw the moon, the Mare in the Moon looming especially large this night. If her thoughts were as I suspected, then I had no right to intrude ‘pon her in this time of utmost privacy. As I would not wish to be disturbed whilst visiting my father’s grave, so I would not disturb another mourning lost family.

I turned to depart, but I had been too slow in doing so. Though the Commander did not turn her eyes from the moon, she spoke to me. “Stay, Shadow. I would have words with thee.”

“As you wish, Commander.” I found a suitable place in the grass, distant enough that I would not disturb her whilst still remaining near enough to be at her disposal. “I apologize for intruding on your private moments.”

“‘Tis not an intrusion if I welcome thy presence,” Celestia answered easily. Despite her kind words, she made no further moves to acknowledge me.

Silence weighed heavily on the small clearing, Celestia staring unblinkingly at the moon whilst I struggled to find the words to speak with her. I did not think it proper to heap my own troubles ‘pon her when she clearly was already occupied, but neither did I wish to call attention to that struggle. However, there was little choice to be had in the matter. I gently cleared my throat to call her attention, and then spoke my mind. “Do you miss her, Commander?”

“Every day.” She sighed, slowly shaking her head. “She is my sister, but the word seems so inadequate to describe all that she is to me. Such is the nature of immortality, Shadow.” She waved a hoof towards the city proper. “Every single pony in this city, in all Equestria, will be dead in a hundred years. Fallen to the inevitable march of time. New generations will be born, but they too shall die in time. Luna was the only one who could truly walk along the pathways of life at my side.” She let out a humorless chuckle. “I imagine I sound quite the spoiled fool to most, bitterly complaining of my immortality when every mortal pony fears death’s embrace. Only Luna would truly understand the source of my disquiet. The pain of knowing ‘twould be wiser to remain distant and unattached, yet being unable to harden my heart ‘gainst the inevitable loss of all my little ponies.”

I found myself at a loss for words. I had not seen this aspect of the Commander’s character before, and I found it unsettling. ‘Twas no secret that she was immortal, or at least ageless, yet I had not thought of the isolation that would inevitably inflict ‘pon her. Her sister had been her one constant companion, and now e’en she was lost. “I am sorry for your loss, Commander. Though I confess I do not know if I can truly grasp the scope of it.”

“Neigh, thou canst not.” There was a bitterness to the words I had not expected to hear, but a second later she shook her head and offered a small, apologetic smile. “I am sorry for that. Thou didst only seek to offer thy consideration, and I should not seem so ungrateful for it.” She let forth a worn, tired sigh. “I should be more mindful of thine intentions, ere I give vent to my troubles. Such is my station. I am eternal, and ere Luna is returned to me, death seems my only companion throughout the years. Thy words cannot undo all my pains, but I should appreciate that thou wouldst wish to do so.”

“I am glad my words have offered you some comfort then, Commander.” The entire discussion had taken something of a strange turn. I would not have imagined I would find myself comforting the Commander o’er her lost sister and the isolation of immortality. To me, Luna was naught but a distant figure I’d heard of from the clan’s elders in my childhood, but for the Commander a century was no great length of time. The pain was likely as fresh to her as that of Rightly’s lost wife.

“Aye, I am glad for thy presence.” Commander Celestia offered me a small, sad smile, then her gaze returned once more to the moon. “My thoughts have grown far heavier as of late. Mine own subjects rising ‘gainst me in rebellion, and marching under my sister’s flag. E'en with thine aid, I cannot help but wonder how Luna's presence would have altered things—forestalled, or e'en averted the blunders leading to this schism 'tween me and my little ponies.” A mournful whisper escaped her lips. “I wonder if mayhaps ‘twould have been better had she proven the victor when we fought. Mayhaps her madness would break once I lay defeated before her, and I do not think she would have allowed matters to degenerate to this point.”

My eyes grew wide in shock at those words. That she would question the wisdom in sealing Nightmare Moon was unthinkable. “Commander, not all of the fault for this war lies with you. My fellow ephors acted foolishly, Apple Tree’s murder was done by another earth pony, and Sunbeam Sparkle did little to calm the rising tensions.”

“Thou speakest truly, many have erred.” The Commander’s gaze did not waver from the moon. “Yet that does not absolve me of that measure of the blame which is mine.”

“'Tis so, aye.” I could not deny the truth of those words, but I found it most troubling to consider them. I knew that Commander Celestia had erred in her handling of the crisis, and held my own beliefs about her handling of the war as well. And yet, I had sacrificed much in the name of loyalty to her. ‘Twould be far easier if I could tell myself that Commander Celestia was a perfect ruler, and utterly blameless in this conflict. That I sundered my clan in the name of a flawed, imperfect mare was a far less reassuring belief than simply telling myself that all her enemies were wicked, evil creatures.

The matter lingered in my mind, and I found myself ill-disposed towards further conversation. For her part, the Commander remained silent, her eyes resting on the moon so firmly that I wondered if she had entirely forgotten my presence. Mayhaps we should end this chance encounter, lest we trouble one another further. “Shall I leave you in privacy, Commander?”

“Neigh, I would have thee remain.” She at last turned away from the moon, facing me properly. If I noticed that her eyes had moistened during the time she gazed upon her sister’s orb, I did not think it worthy of calling attention to. “I have a boon to ask of thee, this night.”

I answered her without hesitation. “You shall have it, Commander.”

“Two boons, then.” A faint smile ghosted across her lips. “I have said before that we need not stand ‘pon formality when we are in private. Now is a time when I have need of such. I would have thine ear and discretion, not the reassurances of a subordinate. Much weighs on my mind, but in this time of mistrust I find myself reluctant to put my thoughts to quill and ink.”

“Very well then.” I approached as near as I could to her without drawing indecently close; despite her words to treat the matter informally, she was yet my Commander. “I’ll not speak of this to any other, e’en my daughter.” (5)

5: And yet, she includes it in her memoirs. Presumably, Celestia felt comfortable with allowing this conversation to be published for public consumption forty years after the fact. While there’s nothing in the memoirs saying so, I can’t imagine Shadow bringing up a private conversation with Celestia without getting her permission first.

Her horn lighted, and the sounds of the city at night dimmed, as if muffled by a thick blanket. No doubt ‘twould similarly shroud our own conversation, shielding us from any curious passers-by. “I fear myself a fool, at times. I mourn my sister, but this is not a pain unique to me. Many have lost loved ones—among the ephorate Bright Charger and Rightly Doo yet mourn the loss of his wife, her sister. Yet I find them the better ponies: for where they endured this among her kin and ne’er swayed from their duty, I find I have withdrawn myself. For a century and more I have only seen a select few of my children—and precious few who did not reside in Canterlot. This conflict feels less improper to me, and if not retributive, then a natural reaction for mourning too deeply and too long.”

I would never have thought that she felt such doubts, for in public she always wore the mask of calm composure. And yet, there was an unfortunate truth to her words. I sought to offer what reassurance I could. “Mourning those who are lost is a natural thing, and not a cause for shame.”

She shook her head, putting aside my assurances. “‘Tis so, but mourning so deeply that I shirk my duties is unacceptable. If the Ephorate had remained content to merely remove me as Commander, t'would have been enough—aye, e'en just. I was absent as both Commander of Pegasopolis and as Chancellor of the earth ponies. If I cannot admit to myself what entire populations see plain as my sister's visage on the moon, how shall I better myself as their head? What right would I have to e'en claim such a position?” Her shoulders slumped, and she let forth a troubled sigh. “If only war had not been offered, I would recuse myself for a time to reflect and learn, and return a better leader to them.”

“All leaders have erred, Commander. The only way one can avoid it is to never lead to begin with.” My eyes moved east, towards the battlefront. “Would that circumstances were better, and we had the luxury of time to learn from those errors. As it is, the war must be won first.”

“Aye, the war.” Her shoulders slumped further. “Let us see how many of my own ponies must die as the price for my errors. Then, maybe, I will have a reprieve to contemplate them.” Her gaze turned once more to the moon, but there was a different character to it now. Where before I saw a pony in mourning, now her slumped shoulders leant her an entirely different demeanour. Not e’en the ethereal rippling of her mane could conceal the circles under her eyes, or the way her wings hung limply from her sides. ‘Twas as if all the many years of her life pressed down ‘pon her. She looked old, and tired.

I hesitantly stepped nearer to her. “Commander? Are you well?”

“Pray, call me Celestia. I do not feel especially commanding at this time.” Her gaze dropped from the moon, as if the mere effort of raising her eyes was too much for her to manage any longer. “I am tired, Shadow. So very tired. I have thought more than once of contacting the rebels and surrendering my crown and all other titles to them. Let the mortals rule themselves, for I am weary of ruling o’er them. Neigh, more than merely that; I am simply weary of all life has.” A joyless smile briefly graced her face. “I think Sunbeam or Polaris would find far more joy in the crown than I ever will, and the other races managed well enough in my absence.”

I stepped to her side, near enough to touch her if I so desired. “The burden of leadership is a heavy one. And you have carried it far longer than any other.”

“As you say.” She offered me a smile, though there was no joy in it. “The fruits of my labors taste more bitter with each generation. Mayhap 'tis why I secluded myself in a court which brought me comfort, and normalcy. There is a steadiness and a predictability to my court in Canterlot. Ponies rise, and ponies fall, but the families, factions, and causes remain the same. Constant enough to be reassuring, yet there is enough variation in the politics to stave off ennui. Plus the odd project, like my efforts to redeem Sunbeam.” She sighed and shook her head. “Removing myself from the other pony tribes was a mistake. I remember now, more and more, that there are other sources of light and hope.” Her eyes rested on me as she spoke that last.

Without conscious thought, one of my hooves moved towards her. I barely halted its progress ere it reached her. ‘Twas a simple matter of basic equine instinct, to offer the comfort of another pony’s touch to one in pain. But she was not a mere pony, she was my commander. There were lines of propriety that could not be crossed. “Commander, I...”

The Commander noted my hoof’s movements, and after a long hesitation gave a small nod. “Have I not asked thee to call me Celestia, Shadow?”

“Aye, you have.” The Commander gave me a pointed look, and I amended my statement to accommodate her desire for informality. “Thou hast.” As her gaze yet lingered on me, I slowly brought up a hoof and rested it on her shoulder, earning a small, approving nod from her. As I touched her, I could not fail to note the heat and the raw sense of power radiating from her body. ‘Tis a thing that is hard to put into words; it must be experienced. “I hope there is some comfort to be had for thee, Comm—Celestia.”

“Canst thou not see that I have already found the comfort I sought?” Though her smile was yet weary, there was genuine warmth in it. “For that, I thank thee.”

Once more I felt ill at ease, but this time because of the praise offered. I am duly proud of my skills as a warrior, but this was something else entirely. “Truly? I am not one who is skilled in bringing comfort.”

“And yet, I am comforted by thee.” She leaned down and bestowed a single kiss ‘pon my brow. “Mayhaps what thou hast given seems a small and inconsequential gesture to thee, yet thy support in these times is a gift for which I would trade my crown. Thine ear and discretion, e'en moreso.”

Her clear affection and kind words produced a faint heat in my cheeks, the likes of which I’d not felt since I was a young mare. “I have done nothing to earn such high praise, Commander.”

“Art thou questioning thy Commander, Shadow?” Her smile took on a jestful quality, and the air of weariness that had hung o’er her faded somewhat. “I am thy Commander, am I not? Well, thy Commander says that thou hast earned all the praise she gives thee. Let that be the end of it, lest thou forceth me to punish thee most terribly for thine insubordination. Perhaps set thee in the stocks for a day, as an example to all Canterlot?”

“That being the case, I will gladly accept all offered commendations.” I was heartened to see her old humor returned to her, and sought to encourage it. “You have been kind to me, Commander. I am duly grateful for it. However, if your kindness could land me in the stocks, I shudder to think of the nature of your wrath. I do not envy our enemies, once you take the field.”

Rather than encourage her good mood, my jest caused the smile to die on her lips. She was silent for some time, and when she spoke once more the weariness had returned to her voice, and seemed to run e’en deeper than before. “I will not do battle ‘gainst the rebels, Shadow. E’en attending the war council is a trial for me. To actually shed the blood of my little ponies...” She shook her head. “Neigh. That is not a thing I could bring myself to do.” She held up a hoof to forestall any answer I might give. “Pray, do not ask my reasons or attempt to persuade me. ‘Tis not that I do not wish to hear thy words, or would not trust thee with mine own reasons for refusing to do direct violence, but not now. This night has already been a long and painful one, and to speak of blood and death on it ... neigh. Ask it of me another time, if thou must have an answer.”

“My apologies, Commander. I meant no offense.”

“I know thou didst not,” she answered her voice gentle and understanding, but still undercut by that same sense of exhaustion. I briefly wondered if she truly had taken no offense at my remark, or simply conceded the matter in order to be done with the conversation. As it was, her eyes returned once more to the moon, and there was a distance to her words when next she spoke. “If thou wilt excuse me, I think I would prefer my privacy, now. Do not worry for me, I do not require as much sleep as mortalkind. Thou, however, must rest and be ready for what is to come tomorrow. Fare thee well, Shadow.”

“And you, Commander.” I departed the gardens and returned to my bed, but sleep was still long in coming that night.

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