• Published 3rd Apr 2013
  • 15,452 Views, 1,401 Comments

The Night is Passing - Cynewulf



Celestia disappears, Equestria falls apart, and Twilight goes West to recover her lost teacher.

  • ...
63
 1,401
 15,452

PreviousChapters Next
XXXII. Love is the Currency of the Land

TWILIGHT




Twilight walked again in the strange and empty halls of the Dreaming. Her nightmares had stopped. She was… grateful, at least. The issue at hoof had not been solved, but it was nice to have a reprieve from the horrors of the wasteland that was Equestria and its environs in the embrace of sleep. If you could call this a rest.


Well. She supposed it was peaceful. Right now, at least.


Sometimes, she turned a corner and she thought she saw things. Ghosts. Ghosts were the best word to describe what she saw in those brief flashes of motion and color.


She studied them with interest. How could she not? She was lucid and trapped here until she woke, so there wasn’t much to do besides observe. She had tried willing herself awake, but had stopped when she realized that her body needed rest more than her mind needed freedom from empty halls.


Most of the shadows seemed rather busy. Shadows? Not the best name, as they were colorful as ponies should be--Ghosts? Morbid. Apparitions? No, Ghost was shorter and easier to say and use. Regardless of what she called them, they all seemed quite absorbed in their tasks. Walking in pairs, doing what seemed like… talking, she guessed. They made no noise. She guessed by the gestures. They walked all around her, through the halls, and then left. She would turn, and find a whole room of them milling about.


Most, she noted, were clothed. Odd, but not that odd. That was how it had been in Canterlot, when Twilight had been a foal. She hadn’t had much of a vain streak, but she had still been surprised at how seldom ponies in Ponyville wore more than a hat. What was curious was the manner of dress--she had seen things like these robes before. She knew she had.


Slowly, Twilight realized that she knew these halls. No, she had not retraced her steps. At least, not in this dream.


Same as the last one, she thought to herself. That was interesting. Why? Furthermore, why any of this? Twilight wasn’t sure, but her mind had found a delightful puzzle. One on the precipice of dangerous things she knew nothing about, yes, but it was still a puzzle and she was still Twilight Sparkle, after all.


What purpose would controlling Twilight’s dreams serve? Torture was unlikely, despite the unpleasantness of her previous misadventures. She had had plenty of nightmares before this new player had made her, well, play. Twilight would have done enough of that to herself. Intervention had in fact only made those nightmares less hurtful. Whatever this farce was, it had not dragged her back to Manehattan. It had shied away from Vanhoover, which she was thankful for--


The walls shimmered.


Twilight bit back a curse as through the now translucent walls showed the stark Vanhoover skyline.


The smell of smoke. The little deathly flowers of fire, little tongues of flame that shot at her. The roar of cannon. The Alicorn underneath her hooves.


“Don’t,” she said, trying to sound calm and slightly failing.


The image passed. Twilight shut her eyes, willing image away. So, maybe torture. But she still doubted it.


Observation, then? She stopped and sat down. The floor was cool, and she found the air pleasant. But why observe her? What could be gained? Think carefully.


Her mission, for one. That might interest some. Her companions? Possibly, but Twilight had the feeling she was the target, not the conduit. Who would want to know? Strike that. Who would want to know that was in position to tamper with memories? Precious few. Luna already knew, and this would be pointless for her anyhow. She had mentioned in one of their dream-talks that few in Equestria possessed the skills to truly walk as she did in the Dreaming. There had been a much larger number of Dreamwalkers in the young days of Equestria, but the art had fallen out of favor and into obscurity. Twilight herself was very much a novice, and after the trouble she had simply leaving her own Dreaming, she felt that there was a very small pool of practioners out there indeed. So who?


Twilight had no idea. Well. She had one, but she didn’t like it. It was preposterous that Celestia would do this. Mostly because it made Twilight feel… uncomfortable, on multiple levels. Some of her dreams had been unpleasant. Compromising. Humiliating. Dying, running, making mistake after mistake. Being an idiot. Saying things she would not have ever said in waking life.


No, certainly not Celestia.


Twilight really wished she had something to write on, take notes on. She really, really wanted to study this place. History had always fascinated her--she and Luna had swapped letters before Equestria corroded. Much of the time, Luna had been writing stories from the past. Twilight had loved all of those letters. She now suspected that Luna had used the Dreaming to get the details right. But here, walking in what was probably something of immense historical importance, she had no way of recording any observations. Frustrating, to say the least.


Also strange. Had she been like this, before everything had… well, happened? Memory was fickle. It was easy to paint the past in broad swathes of color. But this did feel more like what life had been like before, and she didn’t know how to handle it. Being inquisitive. Wanting to solve the riddle. Learning. Twilight had not thought in these modes in some time. Or had she? Maybe Equestria was an equation. She just needed to solve it, all this time. Figure out--


“Twilight.”


The voice was foreign, tinged with an accent Twilight did not recognize and halting, as if the pony who wielded it had not used it in some time. Twilight stopped short.


“That’s my name, yes,” she found herself replying.


She turned, and found the Alicorn standing in the hall behind her. That face… she had expected inscrutability, unreadability. What she got instead was a look of abject bafflement. This pony, this alicorn in the shape of her own teacher, seemed absolutely lost.


“I have not spoken to anypony in some time,” the Alicorn said haltingly. So Twilight had guessed correctly. Nice to know.


“You should have tried sooner. Had a chat,” Twilight commented, but with no heat. She wasn’t angry. Not even annoyed. That had faded. Now she was simply puzzled. She felt something in the Aether, something awfully like uncertainty. Over what? Not fear. But close.


“Forgive me. I have not handled this well.”


“No,” Twilight said. “You haven’t.”


“I am sorry.”


Twilight sighed. “Who are you?”


The Alicorn fidgeted. She smiled. “It would depend upon who you were asking. Or when you were asking.”


“Well, what do you call yourself? Or think of yourself as? What was the last name?”


The Alicorn looked at her. The aura of uncertainty did not vanish, but it diminished. “I am Eon.”


And what a talker. But Twilight Sparkle now found herself fascinated. She would simply have to carry the conversation. A hard task, but knowledge required sacrifice. “Eon. And you’re obviously an alicorn.” She paused. “Or are you? Can you change your form in here? I forget.”


“Yes.” The Alicorn changed right in front of her in a way that Twilight could not describe, let alone comprehend. A whirlwind of shape and color, localized and bizarre. She was a pegasus now, and the same height as Twilight. “If this is more pleasing, I can be this.”


“Do you want to be this?” Twilight asked, blinking.


“I am that which I am, and can be no other,” the Alicorn said, being extremely helpful like all Alicorns were.


Twilight sighed. “Look however you want to look, Eon. Will you tell me what you want with me? I get that you don’t want me to know what you are.”


Eon cocked her head to the side. “I wanted to know who you were and what you were like.”


“Also something you could have talked to me about. Ponies usually talk to get to know each other,” once again, her voice was without heat. This pony felt strange. Like she was… not a child, but something else. A pony unaccustomed to seeing another. Or out of practice, perhaps.


“Yes, I know this. But ponies lie.” Eon’s face twisted, growing darker for a moment. The moment passed. “I had to know if you were as She said you were.”


“She? Who is she?” Twilight felt her heart skip. “Was it Celestia? Did you see the Princess? Where is she?”


Eon backed away. Her ears were pinned back to her head and a stray bit of mane fell before her eyes. “I am… which do I answer first? I do not understand.”


Twilight groaned and facehoofed. “Look… okay, I’m sorry. I got excited. Who is ‘she’?”


“Celestia.”


Twilight wanted to do a victory dance. She tried not to. She failed to restrain the urge. “Okay, okay. Celestia,” she said, feeling out of breath. “When did you talk to her?”


Eon blinked, and seemed nervous. “I do not understand. Or… I do understand. But I cannot tell you that anymore.”


“Why not?”


“Time is…” she seemed trying to say something. She also seemed to fail at doing so. She sighed. “I do not know how to say it. I am unused to this. Everything is happening but only in pieces. One at a time. I do not know how to do things that are… one at a time. Anymore. I am remembering.”


“One at a... “ Twilight frowned. She filed that away to ponder later. Lots to ponder. “So you’re used to everything at once. Non-linearity. That’s fascinating.” She shook her head. “But I have other things to worry about right now. You haven’t told me who you are yet and I really, really want to know. Also… Celestia. When? Where? Was she alright? Tell me.”


“I am Eon,” said the interloper, cocking her head to the side. She seemed confused.


“Yes, I know your name. Why are you here? There are few Dreamwalkers, and fewer still who can do what you have done in my dreams. So you’re not just some random pony. You were an alicorn earlier, and I know there were other alicorns. Luna made it sound like they were all gone, one way or another, except for Cadance’s mother in the North. Henosia. No, that was the place…”


“I am Eon. I am the First.”


“The First…?”


Eon shrugged. “I am the First.”


“Okay. Fine. My other questions?”


Eon smiled. “Over a year ago. Jannah. She was physically fine, but unhappy. The city has an effect on all who traverse it. Considering this, she was in good condition.”


Twilight slumped. Over a year. So, basically that meant nothing. A lot can happen in a year. Twilight knew this very well. So basically, she learned nothing.


No, not nothing, she told herself. Celestia made it to Jannah in one piece. They had followed her trail all along--the orb given Twilight at the beginning of her quest confirmed this--but for once she felt like she was walking in her teacher’s footsteps. She came this way. She travelled by these waters and laid down to rest by them. She may have drank from them. This was it. This was the right way. Suddenly she felt more focused, more alive than she had felt in ages.


But then it passed. She was calm. She was not in Jannah yet.


“Thank you,” Twilight said, and smiled. “I wish I could know more about you, but I’m sensing you’re being obscure on purpose, not because you actually don’t understand.”


Eon smiled back.


“But I have to know,” Twilight continued, “if you’re on our side. Or, at least, I have to know you aren’t trying to hurt me or give information to those who want to stop me from doing what I’m doing.”


“I am not. I received Celestia as a guest in my home, and she enjoyed my hospitality. You too, if you come to me and survive, will enjoy that hospitality. Come to my city. Come to Jannah and climb the great acropolis, and then you will meet Eon by the Well of Creation.”












Twilight woke with a start, thrown from the Aether.


It was night--not so late as one might suppose, for the day had been short--but it was still dark. She had slept most of the day, and retired early. In the distance, she heard voices raised and perhaps music. Blinking, she sat up and rubbed sleep from her eyes. Before she could process what her crewmates were doing, the knock on her door came.


Twilight took a guess. “Pinkie or Tradewinds.”


“Is Tradewinds, your most beloved of pegasi,” chortled the husky, heavily-accented voice. “I am come that you know of celebration below. We are having a day of party, and pink one wishes you to come. So you can, yes?”


Twilight rolled her eyes. Pinkie threw parties at the edge of the world. It was confirmed. “Sure. I guess so, I mean. Give me a moment. Come on in, if you want. Just gotta make my bed…”


Sh did so. Of course she did. Tradewinds wandered in and leaned against the wall, smirking. Twilight ignored her scorn. She was neat. She had spent a lot of time not doing the small, silly things like making her bed and hygiene and she had lost her grip. Over time, she began to think that part of being a pony was in the small things like waving at neighbors and keeping to the right side of the street. The little things which kept the world balanced. The little rituals. So she made her bed and smiled about it.


When she was done, she followed Tradewinds down to the cargo bay and was greeted by a sight that was both familiar and utterly arresting.


It was a party. She had seen lots, all of them thrown by Pinkie. They were usually the same. This one bore all of Pinkie’s usual style, itself. But it was also different. There was less to work with, on a steam boat on the wide, desolate veldt--on top of that, there were more strangers than she had come to expect. When Pinkie put together a shindig, it meant the whole town. She knew everypony there.


It was the fact that there was a party that caused her to pause. A party. How inane. How normal!


“What is all of this even for?” Twilight asked.


It was actually Pinkie who answered by jumping right up into Twilight’s vision and hugging the breath out of her. “For you! That was so awesome and you were so cool and you’re better now so we’re celebrating because we’re safe and you’re safe and everything is awesome!”


Twilight was startled into laughter. “Wha--what? Pinkie, I know you like parties, but--”


“An’ nobody died. Think of it,” Applejack said as she emerged from the crowd. “Not a single pony. Twi, you know I try to be levelheaded, but with all the death we seen and rained down…”


“A day when nopony dies is a good day,” Twilight finished. And she smiled.











SPIKE



How do you go back to life after seeing the heart of darkness?


Spike found that the answer was simple. You do. When he woke up the day after his long interrogation, the sun was shining. Breakfast was served and he took it in his chambers at the palace. They made bacon and he loved it. Luna provided a wonderful, sweet rubellite as a bonus. When he stretched, his joints cracked and he was satisfied.


It was a blessing, really, how the mind could move on past, well, just about everything. One way or another. Perhaps soon it would all catch up with him. Maybe Luna had done something. You know, Twilight said something about shock to me once, when I asked about… Manehattan. Yeah, there we go. There’s the shivers.


It wasn’t that it scared him out of his mind. Because it did. If he thought about it, got through the lingering mental static and really focused on what he had seen and heard and felt, then he could feel panic creeping up on him. Panic’s swift, sharp footsteps beat against the floor. Wolves at the door. He ran out of metaphors quickly.


But if he didn’t think about it, Spike felt nothing. No fear, no terror, no half-remembered visions of… whatever the hell he had seen. He had expected nightmares, but had experienced none. Well, none that he remembered. He forgot most of his dreams, to be fair. Where was all of the suffering?


He waited by the door. The Head Maid mare had looked him over, sniffed with something between disdain and amusement and left him here to wait. It was waiting he found difficult more than visions of horror. Waiting gave the mind chances to linger, and weakened its usually wonderful ability to ignore, forget, and disassociate.


But she came before long. Sweetie Belle was hard to recognize at first. Her hair, her coat, everything about her was different. Better. No, not better, he knew better than to imply that she had looked worse before! But different. Refined? He gave up on qualifiers. She dressed in dark purple, and gave him a weary but earnest smile. He returned it and bowed deeply as she made her way across the long great hall.


“My Lady,” Spike said with as much gusto as he could manage. “I humbly request merely the image of your grace to, uh, grace my eyes?” He snickered. “Lost that one. Sorry. I’ve been kind of out of it.”


“I’d imagine so, Spike. I mean, after what you’ve been through…” She shifted her weight as if dancing around something. Physically. Someone should explain that it was just an expression. Spike was cracking himself up today, he really was.


“Nah, I’m good. Super great. But let’s not talk about me. It’s you I’m here to see about. You’re the interesting one.”


“Interesting. That’s an… drat you used interesting already.” Sweetie rolled her eyes. “As you can tell, I’m not really a noble. I look the part though, don’tcha think?” She did a little turn. “I think it looks great.”


“It does.”


“Thanks! Thanks, I mean, it’s silly, but thanks.” She gestured. “Come on in. Wanna see the new pad? That means--”


“I know what it means, dictionary.”


She giggled. “Just wanted to see if you remembered. Oh! Guess who else is here?”


He raised an eyebrow. Or well. He would have. If he had hair there. “Who?”


“Oh, you’ll see. Sorry, getting ahead of myself. But you’re the first visitor I’ve had who wasn’t really boring. You have no idea,” she said, leading him away, “how awful and boring it can be meeting ponies.”


The Head Mare--Maid, Spike corrected, while also being stunned that he hadn’t noticed her stealthy approach--coughed politely. “Milady, those meetings were very important. They also went very well, I must say. You know this Sir Spike?”


Sir Spike,” answered Sweetie Belle with barely controlled laughter, “is one of my oldest friends after the Crusaders. Heck, he would have been one himself if he were a pony and could even get a cutie mark.”


“You say that like I would have been in your gross girl club.”


She stuck her tongue out at him. Up at him, anyway. “You hung out with like nothing but girls. Shut up.”


They had left the great hall behind and come to a much smaller corridor. Sweetie led the way, chattering. This was her library, still under construction, it seemed. There would be a smaller reception chamber. Some storage. On and on.


She came to a door and looked back at him with barely contained glee. “And this…”


She pushed the door open.


Scootaloo stood proud, her back straight, her wild mane tied back in a firm ponytail. She wore barding emblazoned with a golden bell, and suddenly Spike saw her. She was older. He knew this, had known it for some time, but it was a shock to see her… well. Here. Older. Taller. Grown up. All around her,weapons hung from pegs, armor shone in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and all at once Spike began to appreciate his old friend’s newfound martial capability.


She was locked in conversation with a guardsman wearing House Belle’s insignia. “Look, I know you know your business, but I need flyers. Flyers need weapons. These hoofblades,” she held up her hoof to show them off, “are heavy. That’s great! If you’re on the ground, that’s ideal. I want my groundpounders to use these. But my pegasi? Hell no.”


“Light hoofblades are flimsy, ma’am--”


“Only if you buy them cheap. Let me show you.” She turned, saw Spike and Sweetie, grinned wide, and kept turning. Spike saw that she had put her old saddlebag against the wall. Out of it she pulled a light set of hoofblades. “Test and see, pops. Check it.”


The older stallion did. He grunted. “And how expensive were these?”


“Cheap as hell.”


“Where?”


“Stars and Bars,” Scootaloo said, and shrugged with the smuggest little smirk Spike had seen in a long time. “See, you gotta look around, yo. Can’t just go to the same six smiths or merchants or whatever you bunch go to. Gotta get out and walk the streets. Remember that, Quartermaster.”


“Please visit the establishment and provide me with your projected expenses,” Sweetie added. “Might I borrow my marshal for a moment?”


“Certainly, your Grace,” said the other pony and bowed. He nodded to Scootaloo. Spike searched his face for resentment and found none. “I will visit the place in question and ask around. I have to admit…” He turned the hoofblade over and over, humming in between words. “This is fine craftsponyship. I am highly impressed. I am ignorant, sadly, in typical pegasi armament. I was usually assigned to earth pony and unicorn units. You will have to enlighten me.”


With that, he returned the hoofblade and left. Scoots watched him go and then sighed. But before Spike could ask about it, she straightened back and smiled warmly at them. “Hey, Sweetie Bell. And hey, ya big lug. Heard you took a nasty fall in training awhile back. Good to see you up and about.”


Spike smiled awkwardly. That had been the cover story. A training exercise gone wrong. Incredibly flimsy alibi, to be honest. “Yeah. I’m all better now,” he replied without much conviction. “Tons. Anyway, what are you doing here? Did I hear that right? You’re the head honcho here?”


“Marshal Scootaloo of House Belle.” Sweetie was positively glowing with pleasure. “Luna told me to choose someone I trusted, who could be relied on through thick and thin. Of course I picked Scoots.”


“And I’m glad you did. You know how crazy I was getting doing nothing day in and day out?” Scootaloo said, and hugged Sweetie Bell. Despite being taller, Spike found himself drawn into the embrace. “It’s good to see you, Spike. It really is. You should stay in touch, got it? Don’t wander off again. You know…” Spike gulped as he saw her wicked grin. “Apple Bloom is helping with the renovations.”


Spike sighed. “You’re a jerk.”


“Aw, c’mon, it’s not some secret you gotta look all grim ‘bout. It ain’t tragic. Just go say hi before you leave, got it?” Scoots said. Her tone was cheerful, but Spike thought for a moment he heard a firm command.


“What do you know about fighting, anyhow? And not the back alley brawling kind,” Spike added.


Scoots chuckled. “How shall I put this? Directly. Bum fuck nothin’, ‘cept what I picked up from Rainbow and my Uncle who was in the Cloudsdale militia. He was a captain, don’tcha know? But whatever. Point is, I know a lot about fighting on a small scale.”


“Kind of.”


“And you’ll just have to help me with the rest, won’t you?”


Spike rolled his eyes. “If you’ll even listen.”


“Oh, I will. If you go talk to Apple Bloom later, of course. But seriously, man, I’m sort of making it up as I go along.” For once, her cheer seemed to falter. “I’ve been reading up, asking questions, trying to make sure ponies trust me, but I’m definitely not the best general or marshal or whatever. We won’t be an army.”


“For starters, we don’t have the funds for an army,” Sweetie said.


Scootaloo nodded. “Right. On top of that, and my inability to organize more than a few dozen at a time, I’m pretty sure that would make us look like a threat and I would like to wait until we are a threat before we look like one.”


“So Scoots here is training them in little, ah, what was your terminology again?” Sweetie asked.


Scootaloo had the decency to look sheepish about it. “Got ‘em all in little gangs. Gangs, yeah, that’s what I call them. Five to seven ponies who work together. I have them training right now, actually. Two gangs, trying to find each other in the lower city. Not sure who will win.”


“So training games? That’s not such a bad start,” Spike offered.


He wasn’t sure he liked just how relieved that seemed to make her. “Really? Good, I was hoping it wasn’t a bad idea… I mean, yeah, I figured it would be, but…” She coughed. “Anyway. What’s up, Spike? What brings you to our motley outfit?”


There was a polite cough that sent shivers down all their spines. As one, they turned and found the Head Maid with a neutral expression that still seemed to carry a city’s worth of malice. “A noble house is hardly a ‘motley outfit’, marshal.”


“Uh… right, yes ma’am, got it, sorry,” mumbled Scootaloo, looking everywhere but forward.


“Madame, I have business to attend to. Tea will be delivered to your private study in fifteen minutes.” She looked to Spike. “Miss Bloom is on the second floor. She is supervising the laborers there.” With that she left. Disappeared, more like, Spike decided. A dangerous mare. He liked her, in a sort of terrified way. But she had been sure to pin him to the wall. Now he would have to see Bloom.


Why didn’t he want to? Because he did want to, at the same time. Life was strange.


“Damn, she gives me the heebie-jeebies, Bell. I mean, she’s hells of smart and I know she’s useful, but she’s so damn cold.”


“Only temporarily. She approved of you, actually.”


“Don’t mess with me, girl.”


“She did!” Sweetie insisted. “Immediately, actually. Said you would secure… uh, what did she say?” She rubbed her temple. “You had the common touch that a good marshal needed, and you weren’t big on rules.”


“True, true. I guess. I don’t want a bunch of drones. My ponies are mine because we trust each other. That’s the idea.”


They both looked to Spike, who suddenly felt like third wheel.


“Guess that’s my cue,” he grumbled.


“Yup!” Sweetie said.


“Thanks for tumbling stupidly into the trap, big lard,” Scootaloo said and stuck her tongue out at him. “Bloom made us do it.”


Spike groaned and left.










He found her working. Of course he did.


This was how he would describe her: Like an oak, like a well worn saddle, like horeshoes which have beat at a thousand doors and walked ten thousand miles, like a trusted rope and a beloved orchard. She was a pony who shined in use. He meant this and found it strange to think. She gave orders like lesser beings breathed. She was the master, but was not a master. She simply knew what must be done, and she worked to do it. You were invited to help, but she would not force you to help. He had seen her handiwork many times--Spike had been there when she got her cutie mark for her woodwork. That had been a good day. A very good one. He thought about it sometimes, in the quiet.


She was beautiful. He thought she had surpassed her sister.


He watched for a moment, letting her work as she wished, enjoying her presence without the pressure of… doing anything about it. Like talking. He was not great at talking when it came to--


“Don’t jus’ stand there, idjit. Come over here. And close your mouth, y’look dumb.” Her tone was not unkind. He had been staring, hadn’t he? He entered and stood beside her.


“You know, I wondered if you were gonna bail on me.”


“I wouldn’t,” he lied.


“Don’t.”


“Sorry.”


“My brother’s still alive, I see,” she said, her voice flat. Spike wanted to crawl out of his skin. Since he was actually capable of doing so, he found the wish somewhat pedestrian but still wished it.


“He is.”


Bloom sighed. “I’m happy to see you, Spike. I also kinda just a little bit wanna murder ya with a carvin’ knife.”


Spike gulped. “Not an axe? My scales are getting harder, you know…”


“If you start actin’ offended by that, I might just actually stab ya,” Apple Bloom said. And then she laughed. “I’m done here. Can we talk?”


“Yes,” Spike said. His stomach dropped.


Apple Bloom and he had not talked since Macintosh had joined his little group. Of course she would know that Spike had planned the arson at House Rowan-Oak. She would start asking questions. There was no way he could keep the truth from her. But what if she asked the real questions?


Questions were hard. Eventually. They started out simple, like, “What are you and my brother doing?” and “Is he gonna be okay?” and ended up with “Why are you a lying bag of refuse?” and “Are you avoiding me because you hate me, or you’re a coward, or some combination thereof?” or his favorite “Why didn’t you and me work?”


Suffice it to say Spike did not want to have a conversation. But when Applebloom pulled him into another room--empty, and he wasn’t sure if that made this more awkward or not--he found himself without a choice.


“You know I know,” Apple Bloom began. He loved how she didn’t waste time. It also made him uncomfortable sometimes. Like now. “So we’ll move on. Did you do it, or did my brother? The fire.”


“He did it.”


“Where were you? Did you send him to do that?”


There was another part that she didn’t say, and Spike felt something hot flash across his heart. “No, I was doing my work and he did his. I was--”


“Missin’.”


“On a mission,” he hissed. When he did it, the sound was much more convincing. This silenced her. “I was outside.”


“Outside? Doin’ what?” she asked, some of her heat gone.


But he didn’t want to go there. He felt it in him, the need to not go there. It was physical. So he did something stupid. “You seriously thought I was just gonna let him do dirty work and sit on my butt and stay safe? Is that what you think about me?”


Apple Bloom backed away, and Spike remembered his teeth. He was about to apologize, but she came back just the same.


“Well, what do you expect me to think? When you came and picked him up, I thought you were gonna be right there by him and I thought you were gonna keep him safe. Next I know, nopony knows where you are and some stupid warehouse is on fire and I knew you were behind it. It looked like you left. How do I even know you’re tellin’ me the truth, huh? You’re different.”


Spike blinked. Different. All of the anger, all of his steel died away. He looked down. “I’m not different.”


They were quiet.


“I’m sorry,” Apple Bloom said just as Spike said the same.


They looked at each other. Spike chuckled first, but she followed. He sat down so that they could look at each other face to face.


“I didn’t want to let him do it without me, but we needed intel. Luna needed it. She told me that her spies were giving her reports of ponies moving over the walls and she needed to know where they were going.”


“I know he’s safe. I just… I thought you lied to me and I was so angry. I’m still kinda angry. Not at you, just…”


“I won’t lie to you,” Spike said softly.


Apple Bloom gave him a half smile. Spike noticed that she was wearing her bow. How had he missed that? She undid it and let her mane fall. Idly, she ran her hooves through it. “Don’t say a word,” she said, but without heat. “You keep your promises, then?”


“I’m trying,” he said. “I honestly wasn’t sure I was going to send him at all. I was going to go instead until Luna pulled me off the op.”


“All these secrets… I don’t like ‘em. I know my brother don’t either. Spike, secrets hurt ponies. Even when you gotta keep ‘em. They make you change.” She seemed to hesitate, and then retied her mane. “Okay, I’ma be blunt again.”


“Aren’t you always? At least, you are with me,” Spike said.


“You know I like you still, and I think you like me still.”


Spike said nothing.


“Well, I don’t want all these secrets to mess with Spike, the one I like. I don’t like the Spike who keeps secrets and hides in the dark and lies to ponies. Even to do good things. I like the Spike I know.”


“I’m still the same Spike.”


She hesitated. She came closer. “Spike, ain’t no pony that ever lived that’s the same after what you saw at Mornin’vale.”


He stiffened. “That was awhile ago. I’m fine now, I’m--”


“Can you tell me what you saw out there? Sweetie knows, I think, but she won’t tell me nothin’. She didn’t even tell Scoots. Said it was your story.”


And Spike didn’t want to tell it.


Denial. The mind was blessed with an amazing capacity to disassociate itself from things which were unpleasant. It forgot, it avoided, it reacted.


Spike took a deep breath. He let it go.


“It’s painful.” Apple Bloom said. “I know it is. I’m sorry. I want to know.”


“Why?”


“Tell me and I’ll tell you.” A silence, a short one. “I can see in your eyes thats somethin’ is wrong. You’re gettin’ eaten alive in there, Spike, and I don’t think you know it. Tell me.”


Spike didn’t even weigh the options--the story, a lie, some combination--he simply told her everything. He didn’t even bother to make it concise. It poured out. It burst like a dammed river, washing everything before it. Somehow, he did not die. He was not overcome with anxious panting or terrified shaking. All he was aware of was that Apple Bloom was listening to him, really listening. Not because he had intel, or because it was her job, but because she cared for some reason and she wanted to know because it hurt him and that mattered to her.


When he was done he felt exhausted. She seemed stricken.


“Gaia, mother… Celestia....” she sat down herself. “An’ I believe you. They… our home…”


“Is a portal to hell, yes,” Spike said numbly. “It’s why I was late coming back. I got pulled in to their madness. I don’t know everything that happened. It’s kind of a blur.”


“Spike… An’... An’ I yelled at you. I called you a coward,” she said, like a foal lost in a market.


Spike waved this away hurriedly, speaking fast. “No, no, you didn’t know, and I deserved it. You didn’t really yell, either. Uh… I mean you didn’t say I was a coward but…”


“Spike,” she said, and he stopped. She shook slightly. “Spike, when somepony treats you like shit, don’t just let ‘em. Even if its me. And you just recovered and here I was gonna make a scene and put all my little…” she sucked in a breath.


She was going to cry. Maybe.


Spike panicked. He caught her up in a hug.


She was so shocked that he was afraid for a moment she would fight it, but she didn’t. She hugged him back, tightly. “You didn’t know. I deserved that. I could have held off a day or two. If I had been smarter or more cautious, we might have had a bigger window in which to act.”


Apple Bloom was silent. She didn’t cry. She also didn’t return to her gruff manner. They separated awkwardly after a while, both looking away.


“Sorry,” Spike said at last.


“Don’t be. It was nice. You’re warm,” Apple Bloom said. Spike glanced at her. She was a little flushed. Probably from the heat. He always forgot about that. Fire and all.


“I’m sorry anyway.”


“I know you are. Big… dumb purse.” She snorted. “Why didn’t we really try, Spike?”


“Is this the best time?” he asked, hesitant.


“No time is good. Everytime sucks. So yeah, might as well,” she said, and smiled at him so sadly that he felt again an urge to hide.


“I’m… I mean, I’m a dragon, Bloom. You’re a pony. You know I eat meat, right?” he asked, trying to make that sound funny, but there really wasn’t a way to tell a vegetarian of a species you are capable of eating that you eat meat. There really isn’t. “And I didn’t want you to get stuck with me. And I don’t really… I mean, I don’t know what to do. I didn’t learn how to deal with… this kind of thing. There are so few dragons that Twilight never thought I would need to know.”


Apple Bloom was shaking her head. “That’s dumb, Spike, and even for you. You knew I didn’t care. I still kinda don’t, long as you ain’t eatin’ ponies. Please don’t tell me if you do,” she added, and once again there was not laughter. “Spike, we coulda been a lot happier. All that stuff is bull. Let’s just be happy. Can we try? I know you don’t want me to ask you again, but I need to do ask.”


He shifted. “Now? The world is falling apart.”


“Ain’t no better time.”


Spike chuckled, at last. “Maybe not another time, either. Why would you want to?”


“Cause you have a great big heart and it has a lot of room for ponies like me, Spike. Maybe ‘cause you’re a nice space heater. And ‘cause you’re gonna laugh at that joke, on account of that ever present humor o’ yours. Not to mention the way you keep doin’ little things for me. Remember what I said to you about my bow when you came for Mac?” When he nodded, she sniffled and smiled. “Sometimes, I felt like maybe I wasn’t good enough. I’m not exactly prime dragonness material,” she said.


Spike laughed, openly and honestly. “I don’t know, with that fire you breathe…”


And she laughed too, a little less openly. “But I just knew it was you bein’ dumb. You don’t gotta say yes. But can’t we? Can’t we jus’ try it? You an’ me, together? For a lil while, ‘fore whatever comes?”


Spike wanted to say no. He was suddenly very afraid.


“Yes,” he said, before he could take it back. “Yes. I have no idea what to do,” he said, apropos to nothing.


She hugged around his neck with lightning fast speed.


“Uh… I don’t know what to do with my hands?” Spike blinked, feeling shocked. He said yes. He hadn’t meant to. Had he? Everything was confusing. But he was glad, too. Very glad. So glad.


“You’re not funny,” Apple Bloom said into his scales.


He hugged her back. “Yes I am,” he insisted.


She came back to look him in the face. “Scoots is gonna give you a hard time, jus’ to warn you.”


“I’m a big dragon. I can handle it.”


Apple Bloom carefully reached out and touched his face. He let her. It felt nice. “I don’t really know how this is gonna work. I jus’ want it to work.”


“I’m clueless.”


“Always,” she agreed.


“We can start by getting back to wherever that study is. Will you come with me? Afterwards…” he grinned sheepishly. “I have an empty day. Recovery, I guess. Calm before the storm, maybe. Would you want to, uh… I don’t know. Do something? I have a lot to catch up on, with all of this stuff and me being cooped up and…”


Apple Bloom surprised him with a kiss above his eyes. A small one, chaste and light. He wouldn’t call it timid. She was not a timid sort. “Sounds lovely. I need a break, anyhow.”


“You know, usually jumping into things like this the way we are is a bad idea,” he said softly.


“Ain’t everything a bad idea these days?” she said. “At least we ain’t both third wheels to Scoots and Bell.”


“Are they finally open about that yet?”


Bloom rolled her eyes. Spike was amazed how a small shift in topic made such a difference. He felt relaxed. Happy. Normal. They were close, touching, and it was normal. This was new. It wasn’t bad. He felt… lighter. “They ain’t at all open ‘bout it. I told ‘em it’s the worst kept secret ever, but now that she’s all fancy and important its kinda awkward timin’. ‘sides, I think Scoots is sensitive about the whole ‘Rainbow Dash’ thing. Always bein’ the same. Likin’ fillies just like her, all that. She was the only one doin’ the comparin’, but she don’t see it that way.”


“But she will. She knows we don’t think about her as just a shadow.” Spike stood, helping Apple Bloom up. “She seems like she’s excited to be the marshal for Sweetie.”


As they walked back into the hall, Apple Bloom laughed. “Terrified, more like.”












RARITY

This is your army, Rarity thought. She turned the words over and over in her mind.


Yet, no amount of repetition would make that simple statement normal. It was her army. These soldiers--beleaguered, exhausted, weary, but soldiers still--were hers to command. They would fight and die for her aims. They would follow her south. She had felt so powerless for so long, and yet now here she was. With an army. She had power. She had a weapon forged of iron and blood.


And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.


Rainbow accompanied her, as always. Rarity snuck smiles at her every now and then, and they were always returned.


It was strange. She didn’t even need to be specific, as just about everything was strange in these strange days. What was next? Would the dead walk? At this rate, Rarity wasn’t going to completely count it out.


She and Rainbow had been more or less inseparable since Rarity had been cleared to walk unaided. They had talked--but not much. Not as much as Rarity would have liked, or as much as they probably needed to. There simply hadn’t been enough time. Between relearning to walk, constant treatment for her magical malady, preparations for the journey home… there simply hadn’t been much time to really discuss, well, them. Whatever they had.


She grimaced slightly, then smoothed her face into a neutral expression. She had lost some of her old composure after all of this… whatever it could be called. She would call it “all this mess” but it seemed a vulgarity after what she had seen, what she had done.


When she and Rainbow had had the time to talk seriously, both had been exhausted. It was no way to talk about something as intimate as, well, intimacy. Yet, whatever awkwardness was between them in the wake of their unlikely survival, when she was ready to collapse from the strain it was Rainbow who she rested against. Rainbow had helped her when walking on her new leg had become painful, when she had almost ripped the thing off in frustration Rainbow had soothed her. That last had been a little shocking. Restraint, yes, she could see Rainbow holding her back. But she had spoken softly, reasoned with Rarity’s rage.


The world had, it seemed, become very strange indeed.


“So… she is gonna be here soon, right?” Rainbow asked, scratching her mane. “I mean, we’ve been here for awhile, just, y’know, waiting.”


Rarity smiled. “Well, they did say it would be some time… to be honest, I’m sure her condition has made transportation a bit trickier.” She sighed. “But I may have arrived a bit earlier than needed.”


“Why?”


“Perhaps I wanted a moment to catch my breath,” Rarity said.


“Sounds like a good enough reason to me. I kind of wanna grab a cloud and catch a nap like old times.”


“I remember those days. Well, you still sleep on a cloud sometimes, but I know what you meant.” She was distracted, looking this way and that. For some reason she wanted to know if they were watching her, looking at her. Or her leg. She wasn’t sure which she was more concerned with. Rarity let her mane fall over her face. It had taken a little time, but adjusting the style to conceal at least some of her new scars had been worth it. She felt safe now. Hidden.


“Wanna crash in the command tent?”


Rarity glanced back at her. “The command tent? That’s a bit too public for a nap.”


“No, I mean like, uh…” she hesitated. Rarity focused on her now, curious.


“Hm?”


“Uh, I mean, your tent.”


“Oh.” Rarity blinked. She thought. “That would be nice,” she said carefully. “They’ll find me easily there, once they know I’m not in the command… yes, that will work.”


She strode off, not knowing how else to finish her sentence. Another strange thing: awkwardness. Had she been this awkward, this unsure? She thought back to her previous loves, and everytime she had been so… collected.


They entered the tent, and Rarity found two bedrolls. She knew they both saw them.


Was it just… did they just start sleeping together? Part of her felt that would be delightful. Hadn’t they been sleeping in a little huddle the whole journey, staying close out of fear of the dark or the cold? And now she would share Rainbow’s company without fear driving her into it.


But another part squirmed. It balked. How dare they simply assume. She was her own pony. She was an individual. She had learned, damn it all, and grown up from that pony that needed to be attached to feel complete. Now here she was… a part. A half. Or was she?


It had occurred to her that Rainbow and she had been rushed into intimacy by the threat of death. It was cliche. Pathetic, really, wasn’t it? Would Rainbow regret? She had searched her own heart, and found very little regret there. She loved Rainbow. She could say that and felt like it was true.


Rainbow did not seem quite as burdened. She simply unrolled the mat and plopped down with a happy little grunt. “Army issue, my favorite,” she said. “Uncomfortable, colorless unless gray counts as a color, and wonderfully spartan. Perfect, really.”


Rarity tried to use her magic, but found touching her reserves painful. She winced, and tried a new approach: bending down and doing it manually. This resulted mostly in stumbling, trying to balance on her new leg.


She growled. Stupid. Stupid leg. Stupid bedroll. Stupid day. Stupid.


Rainbow was there. “Hey, hey what?”


“Bed. Leg,” she said, gritting her teeth. Then she took a breath. Decorum. She really had to regain her sense of decorum. “I’m having a spot of difficulty,” she said carefully. “Could you help me?”


Rainbow Dash looked frustrated, but it lasted only for a second before she rolled the bed out. Rarity wondered why, but filed that away for later. She laid down, and felt instantly better. It was amazing, what even the promise of rest could do.


Rainbow laid away from her. A little pony in her head wanted to scoot over, said that warmth was better than any sense of propriety--also more fun. But she didn’t cross the gap, not right away. Giving Rainbow space would be best.


“Uh…” Rainbow was looking at her, biting her lip. She looked so much like a foal looking down from a cloud, getting ready for the first jump, ready to fly but not quite sure if she really could, wings or not. But she seemed to recover. “Do you mind if I come over there?”


Rarity didn’t mind at all, she found. She smiled and opened her forelegs up, and Rainbow cuddled beside her. It was awkward, but it was nice. It was enough, for now.


Maybe. Rarity remembered, and rolled her eyes. “Actually, dear, I think I require your services if you are to partake of my warmth.”


“Wha?” Rainbow scooted back a bit.


Rarity chuckled. “Nothing major. Could you dig through my bags? I have an alarm. I would do it, but…” she gestured to her horn, and sighed. “I am having a spot of trouble, as I said. I’m not as dextrous with hooves. Also, when you return, I need to tell you something.”


If this last made Rainbow nervous at all, she did a remarkable job of not showing it. She grumbled--Rarity quite understood, as she also despised being dragged from any comfortable place--and did as she was asked.


“How long?”


“Oh, an hour should suffice. We may not need it.”


Rainbow returned, and set the alarm on the other side of her bedroll, which she then scooted closer to Rarity. “May I return?” she asked, trying (and failing) to match Rarity’s absolutely perfect delivery. It really was marvelous. She was rather proud of her manner of speech. She was proud of it when she wasn’t speechless or awkward or generally out of her element, at least. Which seemed to be most of the time, these days.


“Yes, thank you for your great service to your motherland,” Rarity said dryly, and Rainbow returned to her soft embrace.


They lay together for a time, enjoying the warmth. There were no kisses or caresses. Just the feeling of Rainbow’s warmth breath on her chilled coat. Once again, she decided that for now, it was enough.


“We will need to talk eventually,” she said, as much to herself as to Rainbow.


“Hm?”


“You and I. About us.”


Rainbow shifted. She was quiet at first. So quiet that Rarity almost repeated herself, thinking she’d not been heard. “Are you going to…? I mean, you know.”


“I don’t, but I can imagine. No, not unless you’re having second thoughts.”


Rainbow shook her head against Rarity’s chest. She pulled away, just so Rarity could see her do it. “No! I’m not. I may be kind of… I don’t know, reckless? At least, Twilight used to say that sometimes. And you. And kind of everyone--not important, skipping that part. But when I make a decision, I try to stick with it. I’m here through thick and thin. Or danger, or whatever.” She paused. “What the hell does ‘through thick and thin’ even mean? That’s dumb.”


Rarity snickered. “A poet, you.”


“Whatever.” Rainbow returned to her little pocket underneath Rarity’s chin.


“But we should talk. Not now, unless you really, really want to. And it need not be a bad conversation. But… we rushed into this. We skipped a few steps.”


“Like a first date,” mumbled Rainbow.


“Yes, among other things.” Rarity tentatively stroked Rainbow’s mane. When she didn’t move away, Rarity continued. She hummed. “But for now, I think we both like each other’s company, we are both a little chilly--well, I am. You and your… pegasus...ness. Agh. My control of language has slipped, it really has. I believe either the cold is beginning to freeze bit of my brain, or you are starting to pull me into the muck, dear.”


“See, I figured it would be the other way around, groundpounder.”


Rarity kissed the top of Rainbow’s head, through her mane. It felt natural to do so. She liked that she could. “I confess that I’m a bit at a loss. You know I’ve… had others. I just realized that my knowledge of your own romantic past is hazier, really. Regardless, you know that. Yet this is rather different.”


“No saving the world?”


“More like, most of my former romances have not been whilst dancing on the knife blade of apocalypse,” Rarity grumbled. “But yes, as you say. For once, I am unsure how to handle myself. Or you. It is strange for me, but so is everything that’s happened recently.”


“Well, this is nice.”


“It is, isn’t it?” she said, feeling lazy.


Rainbow kissed her neck gently. “Is this alright?”


Rarity honestly didn’t know. She liked it, if that helped. She made a little humming noise to indicate this.


They laid like that, quiet and happy, for awhile. Rarity wasn’t sure how long. The alarm didn’t go off--Rainbow had forgotten to set it.












What woke them instead was a polite cough at the tent flap. Rarity’s eyes sprang open, and she looked down to see if Rainbow Dash was asleep. She wasn’t. Their eyes met, and they shared a smile that was closer to amused embarassment than true sheepishness.


“Yes? What news?” Rarity asked, loud enough to cut through the omnipresent hubub of the army camp on the verge of campaign.


“The Legata has arrived. She is at Command, my lady,” replied the voice which she did not recognize. A runner, he guessed lazily, her mind still fuzzy from half-sleep.


“Thank you, ah, sir,” she said, and rose, untangling herself from Rainbow carefully.


“Um… it’s, ah, nevermind,” said the voice she only now recognized as being deep but obviously feminine. Rarity hated the moments right after being woken up. She longed intensely for her couch and a lazy Sunday morning. “If there is nothing else, my lady, I can send word that you are on your way.”


“That would be wonderful,” Rarity replied, knowing her face was flushed. A faux pas and she’d only been awake for a moment. Wonderful. She had hoped to be a bit more composed when meeting the Legata, but time waited for no pony at all, not even a lady.


When she was back on her hooves (with a little help from Rainbow, as she was getting used to the steel leg) Rarity found the mirror she had smuggled into her tent and frantically fixed her hair again. It was a mess, but that was simply part of the cost of sleeping in such conditions. Neccessary. Not really that bad of a cost, to be honest.


“You know she won’t be impressed by primping,” Rainbow said before she yawned and stretched behind Rarity in the mirror. “She’s like, some badass warrior mare or something. Kinda like me.”


“Ah, but you’re impressed.”


Rainbow coughed and looked away. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Um… but she probably doesn’t swing your way.”


“Perhaps. That’s not my intention regardless,” Rarity said, as she admired herself. As much as she enjoyed having that effect on ponies… she would need to start, well, not having that effect as much. At least, on fewer ponies. She would save it all for one, maybe. Except as a game. She didn’t know. Her thoughts were more on meeting the Legata than on the subtleties and ethics of flirtation. (Though she was very well versed! These things were an art, of course.)


“Then why?”


Rarity made sure her mane covered at least some of the scars. They were horrid. They were so… obvious. She grimaced and then took a deep breath. Steadying herself. She would be a Lady, so help her Celestia, and she would not seem a frazzled know nothing in front of one as sharp and as unforgiving as this mare was rumored to be--not for anything.


“Because, Rainbow, appearances do matter.” She gestured, and they left the tent. Outside, the wind had picked up a bit, but it wasn’t enough to be bothersome. Except for the cold, of course, which it accentuated, but after a certain point more cold was just sort of a mild annoyance. After a certain point, you barely noticed it was below freezing. That point was when it was freezing in the first place. “Tell me, when you think of the Wonderbolts, you think of their skill, yes? And their daring, of course.”


“Well, duh.”


“Ah, but what makes you think of them? What immediately makes those images come to mind before they do so much as shake a feather?”


Rainbow followed, and thought.


“Maybe I’m wrong, I’m not exactly Twilight, but I think I get it. Uniforms, right? You see blue and yellow and you immediately think about the Wonderbolts, and already…”


“Exactly. So if I appear to be the kind of mare who is in command, in control, ready and immaculate in my appearance, as much as I can be in such a world…”


“Then ponies assume you are.” Rainbow finished, but then she seemed confused. “But you are already.”


Rarity smiled warmly and looked back at her. They were almost there. “Thank you, Rainbow. I fear I am much less well put together than you think. But… thank you.”


The Command tent was not enclosed as their own tent was. (She was aware that she thought of the tent as their tent now, but decided that it felt right to call it that and did not feel any chagrin.) Several of the officers she had met the previous day were in attendance, and they saluted her as she approached. She returned their salutes in her own way, nodding to them with what she knew would seem a gracious sort of smile. Rainbow crossed her wings before her in some outlandish pegasus salute. Rarity would have to ask about that later. The last time she had taken an interest in pegasus culture, it had led to many interesting discoveries.


The Legata herself was on a stretcher, but she sat up. Were it not for the blanket over her lower form, there would have been no way to tell she was in anyway injured. Rarity took her in quickly, sizing her up at the same time as she nodded and greeted her officers. The blanket revealed part of one of her hindlegs, looking much the worse for wear but still there. The last bit she thought of with only a small reserve of bitterness. Her eyes were hard and bright and dark. Her horn was long--much longer than Rarity’s, who felt intimidated in the way only a unicorn would understand. Rarity could feel her thaumic aura from across the table laden with maps, and knew this was not a pony to be trifled with.


Legata Opal of the Ninth Legion regarded with no smile, no frown, no words. Her expression was stoic. Flat. Fully reserved, but waiting, judgement.


“Legata.” Rarity curtsied--or attempted to. Her leg betrayed her, but she caught herself. Good--she could learn yet. “It is an honor to meet you when we have more time to speak.”


Opal made a little grunt of affirmation. “Likewise.”


“You have come highly recommended, as does your legion. I must say, I have seen for myself and judged that praise deserving. These ponies have survived the abyss and come out still willing to fight for the cause. I know that you must be proud of them.”


Opal cocked her head to the side, as if weighing this. There was a beat of strange silence. Another. Another.


And then she smiled. “Yes, I am. I have the feeling that you aren’t just saying that, and I am surprised. You went out and saw them, did you?”


Rarity nodded. “We did. Rainbow and I spoke to quite a few. I didn’t wish to disturb their work, but I managed to talk to many of the Decani and several legionnaires. Of course, I met your staff--” she didn’t dare say her staff-- “and visited the Quartermaster this morning.”


“And you know much of the art of war, hm? In the south.”


Rainbow moved forward at her side. Rarity was afraid for a moment that she had taken offense, but Rainbow’s voice seemed steady. “Honestly? A lot less than you. Rarity and I know a lot about avoiding battles we can’t win and living off the land. We’ve had to learn. I know more about handling myself in a fight, but I’m not going to be stupid enough to say I know how to lead a wing into battle yet.”


“Yet,” Opal echoed. “Candid. Rainbow Dash, yes?”


“That’s me.”


“I hear I have you to thank for how I find myself,” Opal said. “Alive, mainly. Which is a mixed blessing--yet I think I owe you my thanks. I too have spoken to my troops. They say many things of both of you. They think you are heroes,” she said, and made a gesture that suggested she perhaps thought otherwise. “A goddess of white light and magic who banished the darkness and a pegasus out of the old tales, riding furious down from Neighvarro to smite the plain! I had my share of chuckles over it.” She rested her gaze on Rainbow, who did not flinch. Much. “I am wondering, now, if perhaps they were not quite as crazed as I thought.”


Rarity moved back in. “I was and am still moved by the way in which your legion fought tooth and nail to keep you from that same darkness, Legata. I was shocked to recieve your aid, and am grateful. We all are, Rainbow, Fluttershy, myself--Equestria thanks you.”


“I will treasure greatly the thanks of the southern tribals,” Opal said. When Rarity was taken aback, she laughed--and Rarity found no malice there. “I jest. I am aware that much has changed. This campaign sounds like it will be very different from my previous forays south, and perhaps just as eventful. I am pleased to be at the helm again.” Her eyes wandered. “I see that you too have been left with reminders of wild magic.”


Rarity flinched. Her eyes darted away. She retreated beneath her mane, drew herself back as if she could hide her leg. “Yes,” she managed, her composure cracking. But she recovered. She tried. “Yes, I bear reminders of what happened here.”


“Then do not hide,” Opal said, her voice a little harsher. She used her magic to lift the blanket away. Her legs looked awful. Not as atrophied as one thought of when one thought of words like disabled, yes… she was rambling. She realized that she had been jealous of this pony’s ease of magic and she was shamed. Deeply shamed. She wished to melt into the snow.


“I will not,” she said softly.


“I have decided that I too will not.” Opal smiled at her. It was a cold smile. “We will not be avoiding or hiding as I am sure you had cause to on your way here. When the Ninth marches south, my lady, it marches loudly, visibly, and with the high banners of the Empire. It has been a millennia since a legion marched south to do battle in what you call Equestria.” She laughed, as if to herself. “It is high time that such happen again.”















AMARANTH




“You came quickly. I’m impressed,” Amaranth said.


Ice Storm smiled in response, and simply gestured. They walked into the gardens, as had become their custom. There wasn’t really anywhere else worth going. Not that she minded, because she didn’t. They really were nice.


“It’s not often I’m roused by a night guardspony with a hoofwritten missive telling me that the sender needed to talk in the garden, and that I would know where to find them. You forgot to sign it, by the way.”


“I was a bit distracted.”


“I see.”


Ice Storm did not ask right away, which surprised her. Slightly. She had expected curiosity, but she also knew his patience. Idly, she wondered how long he would wait. He would ask eventually. He would have to. It was how the world worked, and she toyed with the idea of waiting him out. But no, she hadn’t come here to tell him something but to discuss it.


She cursed the the frame. It was unfortunate, being stuck in one pose. Unfortunate--she wanted to be furious. Like that was good enough. Unfortunate.


How to go about it? How did you even begin to talk about something like this? It was like trying to wad the whole world up and stuff into a tiny little box. Like trying to eat so much you choked. No progress. Before she could even get to the which she would have to deal with the what, and--


Fuck it.


“Luna--the Princess came to speak with me today,” she said, catching herself. It would do no good to talk as if she were already a Duskwatch.


If Ice Storm noticed her impropriety, he either didn’t care or had decided that it was more important to know what they had talked about. He nodded encouragingly. “And?”


“We talked.”


“I’m sure.”


She rolled her eyes. “You could at least pretend to be interested, jerk.”


“But I am.” Ice Storm was so close. She thought she liked it. Made her a little nervous, yes, but it wasn’t so bad. A good sort of anxiety. In her defense, he was handsome and it had been a long time. But that was a fleeting distraction. She was avoiding looking at him. “I’m very interested, and I would like to know… but I get the feeling that this is more important than a mere chat. I can wait for you to figure out how to say it.”


She cringed. Now I feel like a wimp. Thanks, Stormy, your Captainness. “Do you know about the Duskwatch? I mean, you’ve heard about them, I know you have.”


“I have. I know very little. They are an elite force, I know that much. I’ve never seen one myself--but from what I gather, I probably have without knowing it. Masters of concealment, watchers in the shadows, eyes in every room and wall…” He smiled. “The tales are tall and frightening at times, but I expect legends to follow the skilled.”


“Trust me, if you saw a Duskwatch in the light, really saw, you’d know,” Amaranth said softly.


It must have been the way she spoke, or the way her face screwed itself up in… whatever the knot of emotion in her stomach could be called. Ice Storm’s demeanor changed. The smile that had rested ghostly on his face was gone. His brow furrowed, his eyes all but flashed. It reminded her of their night-flying reconnaisance.


“What do you mean?” he asked.


“I mean… I have permission,” she began again, haltingly, “to explain this to you, so I guess I should just explain it and stop asking around it. The Duskwatch are not normal ponies. They are different. Altered.”


“How so?”


“I’m getting there. I just want you to know first that I’m sorry for forcing this on you, what we’re about to talk about. But you’re the only pony I trust that’s around to talk to. I can’t exactly get word to my family,” she said, and smirked. “On account of… well, you know. But you’re a pretty smart guy, I’m sure you can figure this out.”


“You’re beginning to worry me.”


“Good, because I’m really freaked out!” Amaranth said a little too wildly. She laughed. “I think a little concern is appropriate. Actually a lot of concern would be a good idea. Like tons.”


“Amaranth, please, calm yourself,” Ice Storm said. His voice was different. It took a tone she did not immediately recognize. What was his problem? Was he okay? It wasn’t like--


She realized only now what she must look like. Her forelegs shook slightly. She knew her eyes must look wild, afraid. Her cheeks were flushed. Hair, unwashed--there had been much more serious things to worry about.


Amaranth took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Really.”


“If you say so.”


“I do. The Duskwatch are magically altered by the Princess herself and have been since they were first founded. The first Duskwatch was a companion of the Princess before she became a princess at all. The spell was something Luna developed based on other work… I don’t really know how it works. I’m not a unicorn, and I doubt most of them could really tell you. She says that she turned bad ideas into something that could be used for good.”


“I’ve heard rumors of such things. There was a tale once about ponies made out of pure flame.” He chuckled, and she marveled at his calm. “The tale went that Celestia’s chosen volunteers would be changed permanently into beings which never slept or ate.”


“The Duskwatch isn’t mythic,” Amaranth continued. She felt… not defensive, exactly. He needed to understand, so that he could help her think straight. She liked that calm strength but she feared it came from ignorance. “They eat and sleep and drink and mate like any other pony, all the normal functions. But they are also different.”


She paused. What to say first? Should she just go in for the worst things, or focus on the benefits? The small changes, or the large? The aesthetic ones?


As she thought, she more felt than saw Ice Storm move. He left her side--which she didn’t particularly like, as he sort of radiated body heat as did most living things in small amounts, and it was nice to have that in the cold! He walked ahead of her a bit, circled, sat in front of her. He waited, perhaps. Waited how? Good question. She thought it was patiently, but suddenly she was struck by a sense of foreboding.


It was the feeling she felt on patrol. The feeling was one of potential--there could be nothing. There could also be a raider encampment. This time? You had no way of knowing until you, well, knew. Until you saw it? Little warning because you were the warning, and your job was to be the one to face the surprise first. You bore the burden of turning the light on and seeing what was in the next room.


Something clicked on in her head. Recon. This was recon. The anxiety remained, but she felt steady now. Ice Storm cocked his head to one side, as if asking for her to continue. She did.


“The change is permanent,” she said, a bit stiffly. Clinically, or that was what she was hoping to sound like. “First, there is minor wing growth, as well as other small, mostly aesthetic changes to the body. It differs from subject to subject. It’s mostly irrelevant, but they do look different. One major noticeable thing is eye color. You see mine?” She pointed. She also remembered just at this moment that not every pony could see as well as she could in the dark. Amaranth grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I forgot.”


“Hm?”


“Uh. Nightvision. But my eyes are yellow, right?” And like that, broke her cool. Great. But she would soldier on. “Well, the Duskwatch have red eyes. Like, really red. Different shades, but always red.” She drew herself up as best she could in the harness, and resumed some of her former attitude. Business. “Now, the change comes with heightened senses and heightened strength. A single Duskwatch batpony is easily a match for any big earth pony brawler. They can hear whispered conversations in a crowded room through a thick wall. They can sense magical usage, to a degree. I’m fuzzier about that part.”


“I sense there’s something else. You seemed to think it was a weighty choice. So far, it seems like the yoke is light.”


“Sunlight,” she said quickly. “Sunlight.”


She pursed her lips, but said nothing more.


“I am going to make an inference, if you’ll allow me. I think its obvious that the Princess approached you about this.”


She nodded.


“I also,” he continued, “think that you want me to tell you what to do. Essentially.”


She grimaced, but she nodded again. Didn’t she? As much as she hated to say it.


“Why? If I can ask.”


“Because you’re somepony I trust,” she said. “You’re smart, you can think in a crisis, and you’re older than me, so I guess you have more, uh, experience? You’re my friend,” she finished.


“And our Princess has asked you to join this illustrious group?”


“Yeah.”


Ice Storm seemed to consider this, to roll it over in his mind. She saw his tail swish behind him and had to fight down the urge to laugh. It was such a childish gesture--it surprised her, seeing him being anything but a stoic defender. She smiled, despite everything--or maybe because of everything. It felt right to talk with him about this. She had made a good choice, come what may.


“There is a downside.” It was not a question. “But you haven’t mentioned it yet… which is a bit worrying. More than a bit.” Amaranth chuckled nervously. “But, let’s both agree that it’s better that we talk about this calmly. Tell me the rest. Then we’ll discuss. I’ll help you think and offer what help I can.”


“Thanks,” she said. She smiled at him.


“Also,” he added, looking a bit put out, “I’m not that much older than you.”


“Ancient.”


He rolled his eyes.


“The Duskwatch are sensitive to sunlight,” she said, letting it go at last, her last secret. “Severely.”


“What do you mean? Sensitive in what way?”


She looked past him, out at the sky. The stars shone brightly over the city. They framed his face.


“Sunburn. You know how if you just lay out on a rock all day in direct sunlight, no shade, eventually it can burn you even through your coat?” He nodded, and she continued. “And you know it can happen on long flights too, if you aren’t careful with cloudcover. But… imagine you were like that just by being in direct sunlight. You couldn’t go outside at all in the daytime. It blinds you for hours.”





“At first, it’s just a light burning sensation and your eyes hurt. Headaches. But then it becomes dangerous. Then exposure is lethal. I’ve heard that sometimes, after a long time, you can walk around with a hood on and manage… more or less. But I don’t know how long that takes. If I say yes, then I’ll… I may never see the sun again. I might not walk around outside during the day again. Like, ever. Everyone I know lives in the daylight.”


He was silent.


“I’ll be stuck. I’ll be that nocturnal sort of creature that is the stereotype that ponies tell their foals to scare them into obedience. I’m going to be the kind of thing… the kind of thing that batponies were hunted down for maybe being. It’s like proving them right.”


“You think you would be proving them right?”


“Kind of? I don’t know. It feels… I don’t like it.”


“May I ask a question?”


“Yes.”


“Your legs.”


“Not a question. More of a statement.” A breath. A pause. “Yes. The magic is pretty powerful. It would more or less… I don’t want to say it remakes. My legs will work.”


“Does it change you?”


She looked at him blankly. “What?”


“You. Being you? Amaranth.”


“That’s…” she smiled sadly. “That’s kinda ambiguous. Who is Amaranth? Can you sum up yourself into a few neat little sentences?”


He nodded. “That’s fair. More than fair. I suppose I could not, if I were truly being honest. I could try! But it would probably be fruitless. But I am curious: are you concerned with forsaking the day, or is it something else that troubles you?”


“Isn’t that enough?”


He nodded again. “Yes, yes it is enough. Maybe. It would be a huge change to how you live, of course. It would make having breakfast hard.” He paused, chuckled. Smiled. “Which is truly a pity. I do love pancakes, I’m sure you do.”


She groaned. “It’s not funny.”


“No, but even I can crack a joke in the face of enormity.”


“I really want to say yes,” she blurted. “I wanna walk again. Of course I wanna walk again. Why the hell wouldn’t I? I don’t mind the part about serving the princess, because I already was serving her. I was in the damn Nightshades. I’d have to go back and fight or do whatever it is they do. I don’t even know all of it! It’s hush-hush. I mean, I don’t… Morningvale… I don’t want to die. I don’t want to fight. I don’t exactly like hurting ponies and I don’t want to do it. I will if I have to. I’ll fight until they tear me to shreds if the world needs it. But I’ll be all alone. I’ll be waking up when other ponies are settling down for the night. I’ll be all alone in the dark up on the wall, waiting, waiting, for something. Something, whatever it is. I don’t… I’ll be without…”


“You’ll be alone?” he asked, his brow furrowed. She looked at him now.


“Yeah. I mean, nocturnal?”


“You know that we don’t all go to sleep with the sun. I know you know this.”


“And? I see other ponies besides other Duskwatch for a few hours…”


“No, I mean… I’ve done my share of night duty. If nothing else, I’ll be around. I’ll stay up. You can see me. The night has as many merits as the day, I think.”


“You’d go with me? I mean… I’m gonna look kind of scary. Will you be there waiting when I come out?” she felt foolish. It was a foolish request.


“You’re sure that you want to do this?” he asked. “To become one of the Duskwatch?”


“Yes. I think… I think I already was going to say yes. I just wanted to hear what somepony else thought about it. About me becoming different,” she finished, lamely.


“Then I’ll be there. It is the least I could do. I’ll stay up,” he said. “Perhaps we can take a walk somewhere that we haven’t memorized.” He smiled at her, and that smile made her feel weak… and stronger at the same time. “I like this garden, but it would be nice to get you out of the infirmary--”


She wrapped him up in a hug, and she ignored his half-hearted protests. She just squeezed him tighter.

Author's Note:

this chapter is gross

Love is the Currency of the Land

PreviousChapters Next