His Duty

by Rifled Quill

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Sad
Length: 6698

The last call to duty can be the toughest, whether it be telling a family they lost one of their own or dealing with the fact that you have no family to come home to.

The futile conflict between Zebrica and Equestria came to an end, claiming the life of a stallion of the Apple Family. The best friend of this stallion, a warrior who fought by his side to the very end, promised him that he would look after the family he would be leaving behind in the wake of his passing. As time moves on, however, being just an eye on the farm turns into a full-blown responsibility as he nurtures and helps the family along for the years to come.

A/N: A big ol' thank you to Pony-Kim for the cover art, The Abyss for editing and Biker_Dash for helping with the story concept. Be sure to check out their stuff as well!

Now with it's own Soundtrack!

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-08-24 00:27:39 UTC

Prologue - The Promise

”Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.” ~ David Ogden Stiers

His Duty

The Promise

September 23rd

The railcar was fairly quiet for a lone stallion. He was seated in the rightmost row of the passenger carriage, right next to the window facing the peaceful world outside. The foliage of the green Equestrian frontier flew by the pane as the engine chugged its way through the countryside. The smell of the old leather seats added to the antiquity of the carriage, at least for the stallion’s sake. He breathed in the aroma of it as his hoof reached into his pack, withdrawing a piece of parchment from its pouch.

        A prolonged breath blew from his nose, his eyebrows scrunching downward as he began scanning the beautiful script print that belonged to a pony that was skilled with writing in a fancy font. He flipped the paper over in his hooves, a scripture of Be Safe was written on the back of the paper, which was clearly a letter to him now. He flipped it back over, his eyes beginning to take in the words as his brain read them aloud in his head.

Dear Cousin,

It’s been quite a while since you’ve sent a letter to us, let alone me. Five years. I can’t believe you ran the family farm for over half of that. How’d you manage to do it without Aunty Melody and Uncle Ragtime? Whatever you did, it must’ve worked. Maybe you can start your own again, one day.

I’m glad to hear that you’ll be coming to Ponyville, especially since you’re just coming back from deployment. So you told me about the other stallion you fought with in the last days of the war, McIntosh Apple if I recall correctly? We I’ve known the Apple Family here in Ponyville for the last couple of years. They’re some of the greatest ponies I’ve known since we moved here about ten years ago. It’s a damn shame that they lost Big Mac to the zebras. I know that the filly and elder pony will probably take it hard, but the sister will probably take it the worst. That pony can’t even stand to see one of the citizens get hurt. I hope you’re prepared for that.

But cutting back to the chase, you’re a good stallion for making that promise to McIntosh. If I were in your horseshoes, I probably would’ve soiled myself rather than say the words you did to him. It must be amazing to see the comradery out there with the whole battle going on. You’ve got some stories to tell me and Bon Bon once you get settled back in!

Before you get here, I’ll give you as good of a rundown as I can on each Apple. As for the sister, Applejack, she’s an honest, hard-working and no-nonsense mare that bucks like a bronco. She could buck every apple from one of those trees with one swift kick.. No joke too! If you can get on her good side, you’ll be set for your stay in Ponyville even though I don’t want you to leave.

Moving on to her sister, Apple Bloom is a cute little filly that could knock even the coldest of ponies out of their ice-shock. She’s so eager to get her cutie mark, I swear she’s going to drive her sister nuts. Still, she a good filly both inside school and on the farm. She’s got her heart in the right place, and she’s got a family minus one stallion who will support it.

Last but not least, we have Granny Smith. I’ve sat down quite a few times and talked to the elder Apple about how she raised all three of the younger Apples. Every time, her answer is that the whole Apple Family contributed to their success, both on the farm and in their lives. She is a nice old mare, and she’s got a kick to her as well. One day we should go buy some zap apple jam from her. She let me sample a spoonful and I was already in pony heaven. Good stuff.

All in all, I really can’t wait to see you. You’ve got to tell me what happened on the farm before you sold it and all the war stories that you’ve accumulated. And in return, I’ll tell you about Nightmare Moon returning in OUR town. It’s going to be fun, Cousin. See you soon!

Love and Hugs,

Cousin Lyra

        P.S. When you go to take the paper to Fluttershy, you must be very, and I mean VERY, delicate about it. This will break her heart either way, and she’s going to need someone to be there for her as well.

        The stallion chuckled at first, but his laugh died with the post scripture that his cousin had put after signing it. He put it back in the same fashion, using his other hoof to aid him in the movement. His hoof rolled around in the pouch again, searching for another article within its confines. After a good scoop of his hoof, he managed to find a small notebook deep in the bottom of the pack. He gripped and pulled it out, along with almost nearly everything else within the confines of the bag.

        The brown hooves of the stallion held the notebook open now, revealing another piece of parchment folded into quarters. There was something different about this one from the one he had held moments before. Instead of crisp, creased folds like the ones that Lyra had folded into the letter to him, it seemed that the paper had been folded and unfolded multiple times. The grit and dirt that stained the corners could tell of land fought for with the hooves of the previous owner of the parchment.

        With careful movements, the stallion removed the paper from his notebook, unfolding it to reveal the scratchy handwriting of another pony who wasn’t there to witness their words being read by the eyes of his fiance. Still, the stallion making the delivery of the paper took a read to make sure they would understand what he was trying to get across.

My dearest Shy,

I am sorry to say,

But my soul must fly,

Right into the fray.

Do not be sad,

I will be up there watching over you,

Do not be mad,

I will be there next to you.

When you move on,

And find someone to share your love,

Just remember that I will never be gone,

I will be in the soul of your favorite dove.

It had been written from the start,

That I love you with all my heart.

        The stallion’s smile faded away as he continued to read through the piece, leaving him as a saddened mess with a ball in his gut. To him, the words that he meant for his lover couldn’t be more well-put. And it also reminded him of the upcoming deed that he would need to complete before day’s end.

        The stallion remembered the face of the creator of the piece, a red coat and a menacing set of green eyes that could scare anypony out of their wits. Yet when he looked upon the face of his comrade, he felt a sense of safety. It was as if he was his own family, more than just another body out in the field of battle. He felt as if he were… a brother.

        The stallion’s eyes closed, the salty tears from his thoughts of his best friend’s death being in vain. He knew it should’ve been him being buried on the edge of town. It should’ve been him writing this little masterpiece for what little family he had. Heck, if it hadn’t been for him finding Lyra’s name on another fellow’s letter, he would’ve never found out that she was still around. He really didn’t have family, so he should’ve died and not the stallion who needed to get back home to his two sisters and grandmother.

        He couldn’t take it. The stallion quickly folded up the paper and stuck it back in his notebook before shoving it back into the pack and closing the flap over the pouch. He moved a hoof to wipe away the small stream of tears starting to run down his brown cheeks. He knew it wasn’t fair, but why would his best friend just lay his life down for somepony he only knew for a short three days? Without his savior there to tell him, he’d have to live with that unanswerable question for as long as he lived.

        The stallion laid his head against the windowpane, his eye watching the rolling green pastures pass by him as the train chugged along towards his destination.

        “Celestia bless him,” he said quietly as he let silent tears fall from his eyes. He knew it wasn’t fair, not in the slightest. But he had made a promise to the deceased McIntosh, and he intended to keep it. “Come hell or high water, I have one last duty.”

Chapter 1 - One Apple Fell From the Tree [Part 1]

”The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.” ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero

His Duty

One Apple Fell From the Tree [Part I]

September 23rd

        The black steam engine bellowed smoke from its stack as it powered along towards the city of Ponyville. The tracks were laid to where the engine and its consist would curve around the eastern edge of town end up just across the way from Golden Oak Library, allowing most of the citizens to see the rising plume of smoke in the distance. A long blast of its whistle aroused the stallion from his slumber in the railcar, his eyes opening to the sight of the town coming up through the windowpane on his right. Sleep and dried up tears made it hard to keep them open for long and he blinked a few times to get them to crumble from his ducts and eyelashes.

        The sight of the town brought both a sense of excitement and dread. On one hoof, his cousin Lyra would be waiting for him on the train platform. He hadn’t seen her since his days in school, and it was going to be a wonderful reunion for the two of them. But on the other hoof, he had to complete a task that he loathed as much as the next pony. Still, the job had to be done, and McIntosh wanted him to be the one to tell his family. The stallion swallowed hard. He needed to steel himself if he were to keep his appearance up in front of them.

        Another bellow of the engine’s whistle blared as he started to get his pack together for the deboardtation of the carriage. The hope that Lyra could help cheer him up was slim, but he clung to it with what last bits of his heart he had. He could imagine being there, crying with the big stallion’s family as they grieved for the loss of his precious life. He knew full-well what the stallion did back home, even for the short time they knew each other. Bucking apples, taking care of two little sisters and watching over his grandmother was his most important responsibility on the farm. The night before McIntosh’s death, he was speaking about how his sister Applejack was a terrible workaholic. They shared a laugh when he said that she nearly cracked her head open because of how tired she was making herself. Still, Mac showed his appreciation of the feat when her friends came to her aid later on in the harvest. It wouldn’t be another two months or so before the apples would be fully grown for another harvest.

        The stallion sighed, reminiscing in the moment that they both shared stories of their closest family. He remembered telling McIntosh of his cousin, the one he was due to meet soon. He laughed whenever he mentioned Lyra to somepony, because his most memorable moment with his favorite cousin would always be the one when she got a rotten tomato pegged against her horn when they were filly and colt on the old family farm. He smiled reluctantly, remembering those times with her and his parents. He moaned through his nose, his head drooping down along with it.

        “Better get ready,” he sighed, reaching over to the saddlepack he used from his days in the Guard and latched the straps tightly to close it shut. It was a bit heavy for a homeward stallion, but he had kept his dress uniform and even his skirmisher rifle, which was a short three foot weapon capable of repeat fire using a lever-action system to eject a spent cartridge and load in a new one from a magazine within the weapon. He was very adept with the weapon, given it’s difficulty to be used by hooves, and it served him well throughout the war’s numerous battles. And with the availability of three different shells, the weapon could become either a scattergun, skirmish rifle or sharpshooting weapon with a simple change of the ammunition. He prefered to pick off his targets at range, but the other shells had their purposes as well.

        The engine’s whistle blew one last time as it began to pull into the medium-sized station. The stallion took a quick glance out of the window, waiting to see if his cousin was on the platform looking for his face among the windows. The railcar lurched to a stop, pushing up against the other carriages up until they hit the tender with a light thunk. As he started to get up from his seat to put his pack on, the face of a young mare appeared outside of his window, her aquamarine forelegs pressing along with her muzzle against the pane. A large smile plagued her face, and the steam from her breathe in the early fall morning fogged up the lower part of the glass.

        The stallion didn’t know why, but he was fumbling with his pack like a madpony to get off the train and meet his cousin. It’d been so long since he had seen those golden irises with his own green ones. By the time he had completed the thought, he was already hoofing it down the aisle to get to the door. Lyra was already waiting for him with forelegs wide open as he dropped his pack and broke into a full gallop to meet his favorite cousin.

        “Dusty!” Lyra could only manage his name before she was happily assaulted by the weight of her cousin. Dusty laughed as they both crashed onto the wooden platform, his cousin licking his cheek shortly after. “Gah,” she breathed under his weight, “You’ve grown quite a bit, cousin!”

“Yup,” Dusty chuckled as he returned the lick on her cheek. Lyra could only giggle and smile, the feeling of closeness with her last bit of family from her mother’s side a strong one. Dusty scrambled up to give her some breathing space, getting a good glimpse of the platform’s occupants smiling warmly at the both of them. It was a good feeling for everypony to see a hero of the war returning home to the arms of a loved one. Dusty couldn’t think any better of it. If it weren’t for him seeing her name on the letter of a fellow soldier, this meeting might have never transpired in the slightest. A foreleg around his neck brought him back to his cousin standing next to him.

“It’s really good to see you again, Dusty. I’m glad you came.” Lyra rubbed the side of her head against his, prompting the small crowd on the platform to all sigh with adoration of the reunited mare and stallion. Too bad they didn’t know they were cousins, especially since one could barely tell by their contrasting colors. Still, the two admired the attention they were receiving for such a happy reunion. As Dusty flushed and looked away out of embarrassment, the black engine blew its whistle, the sound of lurching railway cars following soon after. A puff of smoke being released from the outside cylinders, blowing a large hat off of a cream-colored pony with a curly blue and pink mane.

        By the time Dusty could chuckled or even speak to Lyra, she had already bolted off towards the other mare. The puzzled stallion look on to see his cousin repeat the exact same thing he did to her, taking the windswept mare by complete surprised. Dusty snickered cheerfully as he turned to go and fetch his saddlepack. He nearly stomped down on a small light-gray filly with a rose-streaked mulberry mane while turning, making him nearly lose his balance as he tried to dodge the unaware filly. Dusty ended up over the little unicorn, hard breaths being the result of his attempt at agility. He was lucky he didn’t step on the poor gal.

        “You forgot your bag, mister!” The filly said through clenched teeth as she held onto the strap of his saddlepack. Dusty pulled it to the side with a smile, letting her have a break from pulling the heavy bag across the platform. Before he could say thank you, a pompous voice called out from somewhere behind him.

        “Sweetie Belle!” Dusty looked back to see a white unicorn with a frivolous purple mane. Her face was scrunched in a scold at the filly underneath him, which he mistook to be directed at him. “Sweetie Belle! We do not associate ourselves with war criminals like him!”

        Dusty was shocked at what he heard, as well as the rest of the ponies near her. In fact, it made him angry at the mare. But the soft pitter-patter of the filly’s hooves brought him back to the right place. Before she could get out of sight, he wanted to at least say something to her.

        “Hey kiddo,” Dusty smiled warmly, “Thank you.” Sweetie Belle looked back with a frown before smiling at him. He could tell that the filly knew who to respect, unlike the counterpart that had summoned her. Dusty knew all war vets weren’t complete trash. Heck, McIntosh was an exemplary model of that line of thought. He went ahead and picked up the bag with his foreleg before turning back towards Lyra, who was squeezing the hatless mare in her own forelegs.

        Dusty smiled and started trotting on three hooves towards them. As he neared, Lyra had already let go of the mare and had turned to introduce her to him.

        “Dusty! This is Bon Bon!” She said with the biggest smile upon her muzzle. “Bon Bon, this is my cousin Dusty!” Lyra was giddy with joy, dancing out on her hoof tips out of pure exasperation to have both of them in her presence.

        “Nice to meet you Miss.” Dusty politely stuck his hoof out, beginning the introduction. Bon Bon smiled and took his hoof in hers, completing the gesture.

        “It’s good to finally meet you too,” she said in return, “Lyra can’t stop talking about her favorite cousin.” Dusty chuckled and looked to his cousin, who wore a sheepish grin with a light blush of rose in her cheeks.

        “So, uh… Are we all ready to go now?” Lyra asked, moving in between Bon Bon and Dusty to retrieve her partner’s hat. Dusty nodded with a smile as she gave it to her and the duo turned to leave the platform. “Have you eaten yet?” Lyra questioned Dusty, looking back at him.

        “Not as of yet,” he huffed as he put his saddlepack onto his back. The train ride had been a long one and his last meal was back at the Canterlot train station. “A cookie really doesn’t do much around here,” Dusty snorted sarcastically as he trotted up next to his cousins. There was no “in-law” for Dusty, just cousins and full-fledged family.

        “Well, we could go to the house so that you can drop your bag off.” Lyra suggested with a quizzical expression.

        “And I can get started on some soup for him too. If that’s alright?” Bon Bon directed her question toward Lyra. She looked between the two of them and then set her sights to Dusty.

        “Would you like that?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. Dusty smiled sheepishly and lowered his head.

        “That would be wonderful…” He trailed off. For once, he was being treated like a good stallion should be. Not that it wasn’t like this back in the day, but working on a large farm with no help for five years could wear down anypony. Unless he was McIntosh of course, but that was different.

        “Good, just follow us.” She giggled and turned to Bon Bon, whispering a sweet-nothing into her folded ear. Dusty smiled brightly and looked into the distance, watching as the plume of smoke disappeared from view behind a large hill…

*     *     *

Lyra and Bon Bon’s House…

        “Welcome home,” Lyra cheered as she lit her horn to open the door with her golden aura. Dusty was surprised at how nice the house was. It would’ve cost at least two-thousand bits to have this nice of a house in Canterlot, but he lucked out with going into the Guard. Each soldier was given a small dorm, free of charge. And he also got a one-thousand-five-hundred bit paygrade every month because of his Sergeant status. Dusty wasn’t a frivolous spender with his money, so the checks added up pretty quickly. His only problem would be accessing his money, but he didn’t plan to stay in Ponyville forever.

        “Geez, cousin. This place must’ve cost a fortune!” Dusty said in amazement as he stepped into the doorframe. Lyra pushed him in with a hoof, followed by Bon Bon and herself. The stallion spotted a couch in the main room and trotted over to it, dropping his saddlepack next to it and jumping onto it. He rolled onto his back and sprawled out, his spine popping in a couple of places. “Don’t even ask. The train ride was terrible.” Dusty covered his ploy.

        “I can tell,” Lyra scoffed playfully as she closed the door behind them. The sunlight seeped in through the front room windows, basking the floor below them in the warmth of the rising sun. It gave off an angelic glow that graced the three pony’s coats as they finally relaxed amongst company. Dusty stretched his limbs about, the feeling of release wondrous to him.

        “This is much better compared to a foxhole,” Dusty poked right back with a laugh, “The cold ground would make you cramp up if you slept on too long.” He swung his hooves behind his head afterwards, sighing with content as he settled back against the the plush of the furniture.

        “Good to know,” Lyra said as she moved towards Dusty’s relaxing form. Bon Bon smiled at the two and made her way to the kitchen to start cooking up the soup that she’d promised.

“You two behave now,” she giggled to herself as she disappeared behind an archway, leaving the two family members to themselves. Lyra climbed on top of the bigger Dusty and scrunched in with him to make up for their lost cuddling over the years. He scooted over, enjoying the company of her.

        “I missed you so much.” Lyra smiled as she snuggled up under his chin, a large smile plastered on her muzzle. Dusty patted her back and chuckled.

        “I missed you too.” He thought about the years gone by without being in contact with anypony other than himself. Working the farm was hectic, and there were points where he didn’t even get to sleep for a couple of days at a time. “I missed you too…” Dusty repeated.

        Lyra nuzzled his neck and closed her eyes, her coat breathing in his warmth as he stared up at the ceiling of the home. Dusty patted her back a couple of times before laying his foreleg over her side. All the while, his smile slowly began to fade away. Lyra could feel the tension building in him and she looked up to his face, her eyes showing her concern. “Something wrong, cous?”

        Dusty sighed, craning his head to look at his cousin. He knew he still had to inform the Apples of their loss. “I… I still need to tell them about McIntosh…” He said with sadness on his heart. Dusty knew it had to be done, and he had promised him before he passed on to do just that. Applejack, Apple Bloom, Granny Smith and Fluttershy… He needed to tell them all, no matter what the result would be.

        “But you just got here, cousin.” Lyra pouted to no avail. Dusty was already moving to get up from the couch. He looked back to her with a mix of different expressions, his mouth opening to speak. He tried to say what made his decision concrete, but nothing came out but a hushed sigh. Dusty decided to tell her the moral side of the story, rather than his own reasons.

        “Lyra,” Dusty said with a soft sternness in his voice, “If I were to have died, you’d want somepony to tell you right away, yes?” He raised an eyebrow, an unintended frown growing over his muzzle. It discouraged Lyra from saying much, her response now only a mere nod. “Then you understand why this must be done.”

        Lyra could only lie on the couch alone as Dusty went to his saddlepack to retrieve his dress uniform, garrison cap and notebook. He hated to say it like he did, but he knew it needed to be done. It was one of those inner demons that needed to be conquered in his opinion. And the only way to do so was to fulfill his best friend’s wish.

        “Dusty…” Lyra trailed off as she rolled off the couch and onto her hooves. “I…”

        “I’m sorry, cousin.” Dusty cut her off as he pulled one grey sleeve of his uniform over right foreleg. He sighed and closed his eyes after getting his hoof through. “It’s hard for somepony to do it, but I accepted it. So I must do it.”

        “That doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.” Lyra sat behind Dusty and pulled the uniform’s other sleeve over to his other foreleg. She smiled briefly as Dusty slipped his hoof into the sleeve and rolled his shoulders to get the rest of the shirt on fully. Lyra then folded the collar of uniform to match the sleek and crisp folds of the rest of it, turning Dusty from a simple townspony into one of the heroes who returned home from a bitter and relentless war. “Wow, cousin. You look sharp,” Lyra commented with a pat on his shoulder.

        “I’m still not used to that,” Dusty smiled a little as he fastened the buttons on his shirt. It was a nice comment, he had to admit. But still, it would take him awhile before he could fully accept the fact. He could thank the five years of solitude for that.

        “Well you better,” Lyra giggled lightly as she grabbed the garrison cap from him and placed it atop his head. Dusty smirked  and looked up to see her sticking her tongue out as she tried to position it just right on top of his fluffy, golden mane. After a tap of the grey and gold garment, she sat back with a satisfied nod. “There we go. Go take a look in the mirror.” Lyra pointed her hoof to a mirror on the other side of the room, past the archway Bon Bon had disappeared under.

        Dusty nodded and trotted over to it, his single medal jingling against his chest as he did so. The first thing he saw when he entered the mirror’s reflection was his injured ear, which had a cut the size of a small cheese wedge. Dusty could hear the cry of the zebra jumping at him… The spear narrowly missing his eye… The clack of the hammer falling onto the percussion cap… The big bang of his scattershot cartridge and the buck against his shoulder…

        “Hey, you alright?” Lyra was next to him now, waving her hoof in front of his muzzle. Dusty shook his head and looked toward her with a faint smile.

        “Yeah… Uh, maybe I should get going…” He nodded towards the notebook laid out next to his pack. The grungy note was still in its place, waiting for the receiver to unfold it and read its creator’s little piece. Dusty quickly moved to retrieve it and take it with him to McIntosh’s partner. Before he could dart towards the door, Lyra had placed herself in front of him.

        “Let me go with you. Fluttershy-” She swallowed hard with Dusty’s eyes concentrated on her. “She’s going to be very… Emotional…” Lyra sighed and look between Dusty and the door. “I’ll take you to her cottage.”

        “That’d be welcomed,” Dusty nodded, his heart skipping a beat. He took a deep breath and stood up, the poem now in his mouth. Today was going to be hard, and he could feel just with the presence of Lyra disappearing into the kitchen to tell Bon Bon that they’d return before noon. Dusty felt his energy drain, but he couldn’t let it stop him now. It had to be done…

*     *     *

Fluttershy’s Cottage...

        Lyra and Dusty cautiously approached Fluttershy’s small cottage from the trail that lead out to it from the town. A light breeze blew against the two, their manes drifting along with the air currents. Dusty was holding the poem with his lips and tilted his head slightly to get a view of the peaceful setting. The birds chirping in the morning light was something that he hadn’t heard for the longest time. The only thing left in his canals were the sounds of screams for somepony’s mother, the cracks of rifles and the words of McIntosh being strained into his ear.

        “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Lyra commented as she looked up to the horizon. Dusty looked up with her, seeing a formation of song jays flying overhead towards the cottage itself. He looked on to the coops and dens and all the little housing arrangements that dotted the homestead that belonged to Fluttershy. Dusty could see what she and Mac had in common, as far as farms and sanctuaries went.

        “Sure is,” he finally replied, the response augmented by the paper. Lyra had gone up a little further and found the path that lead to the base of the tree cottage where the front door was. She beckoned him to quicken his pace, and he did so. Picking up from the walking speed, he started trotting with a pep in his step as the paper fluttered in between his lips. Lyra smiled, trying to keep their spirits up. Dusty appreciated her kindness and sincerity about his task. He wouldn’t have taken anypony else for the job at hoof, no one other than his cousin.

        The duo started their final descent to the front door. Dusty’s hooves jittered with nervousness as they approached. He was scared. What if he started crying with her? Would that create some sort of new bond? What if she didn’t believe him? So many questions that Dusty had, and they weren’t even knocking on the door yet. Lyra stepped ahead of him again, stopping just in front of the door to give herself room to knock. Dusty stepped to her side, but stayed back to allow her to do the talking with Fluttershy.

        “Fluttershy?” Lyra said as she knocked for a second time. Dusty tilted his head in confusion. Maybe they were at the wrong house? No. Lyra said she knew Fluttershy, so this had to be the place. His cousin didn’t waste a moment in trying the door, which pushed open at the touch of her hoof. “Whoa… That’s not usual for her…”

        Dusty looked around her head to see inside. Compared to the world outside, the interior was bleak for a cottage filled with picture frames and more animals themselves. Lyra stepped in, her hooves stepping carefully to avoid crushing one of the small woodland creatures. Dusty followed suit, very cautiously stepping in the small pockets that the congregations of animals left between themselves. A few more steps across the living room brought the two ponies to the dining table, and where the start of the dense field of creatures had nearly severed their route from the rest of the home. Lyra looked around, trying to find a way to get through without disturbing the tentative animals.

        Dusty was busy looking at something else in the room, a particular golden picture frame was set above the couch across from the table. A closer examination found the image in the middle to be of Fluttershy and a living McIntosh Apple. Dusty choked a little, garnering the attention of a family of bunnies near him. He shook his head and tried to smile at them. It was something that couldn’t be helped. The picture was something that looked to have been taken at a farm in the wee hours of the morning. Fluttershy’s smile was soft and passionate, while Mac’s expression held both a proud and faithful aura to it. To Dusty, there was nothing more satisfying than the love of someone else being shared with that person whom you love so much. It was just like his days back when his parents ran the family farm in St. Mare Eglise. Love being shared between a mother, a father and a son.

        A cough from Lyra brought him back from his admiration of the photograph, as well as the muffled sobbing of somepony from somewhere above them. “Hey! Angel says that Fluttershy’s in her room crying,” Lyra hushed at Dusty.

        He nodded, not wanting to distract any more of the animals that had crowded themselves around the base of the stairs. With careful steps, Dusty plotted his way towards Lyra, who was walking to a small bunny that nodded at her whispers. He was surprised that the rabbit actually understood her. Still, he wasn’t about to get the beady looks from every animal within the space by saying something about it.

        Dusty and Lyra started their ascent to the shy Pegasus’ room, which was closed off to the word by a wooden door. As before, the unicorn wasted no time in fiddling with the door. With a push of her hoof, the door swung open, letting the light shine in on a mare’s form underneath a lone bedsheet. Dusty noticed the little squirms that she made, accompanied by a muffled sob. He knew he should’ve went right away.

        “Fluttershy?” Lyra asked softly as she entered the room. Dusty took a step into the bedroom as well, the note still clenched between his lips. The pony in question slowly turned over on the bed, revealing a face that was similar to the one in the photograph. Only thing was, there was no soft smile of adoration. But instead, the tears and quivering lips of mourning and sorrow were prevalent against her creamish-yellow coat.

        “O-Oh… H-Hi, Lyra…” Fluttershy could only manage before falling back against the pillow and weeping quietly into it once more. Lyra was at her side now, rubbing her back softly with her hoof. A loud shriek was heard, followed by the decrescendo of her wail. Lyra shook her head and continued to rub her back. Dusty knew that he had sympathy for the mare, and to do this to her would probably make or break her. A wave of an aquamarine hoof told him it was time to do the deed. He took a breath through his nose and slowly made his way over to the other side of the sobbing mare.

        “Ms. Shy?” Dusty empathized as he stopped at her side. He could see the tear-soaked pillow that Fluttershy let her grief wrath upon. It was very discouraging, but Dusty knew that it needed to be done. At least he’d gotten her bloodshot eyes to focus on him. “Hi, my name’s Dusty…”

        Fluttershy was still hiccuping with tears, but her concentration was now between his eyes and note that he had with him. Dusty did his best to smile and laid it down to where she could open it on her own. He could finally breath through his mouth, but his lips were already starting to quake as she unfolded the paper with care. Dusty could barely keep his composure himself. He was too close to not save the stallion, yet he couldn’t. Everything he’d worked for, even the short time that he and McIntosh had been the greatest of friends, was all for nothing to him. The war was yet another reminder to him that he was meant to be left in the background for nopony to see. He was just the puppet that helped the cause along the way.

        “He told me to give this to you in hopes that you’d understand.” Dusty nodded towards the note. Fluttershy sucked back her tears, hoping to clear her eyes enough to read the small piece of parchment. He took his cap off and sat down at the side of the bed and watched her cyan eyes as they began to quiver the farther they read down the paper note. It wasn’t long before Fluttershy had winced and dropped the note back on the bedding, her head returning to the pillow to allow her newfound sorrow to seep into the wet cotton. Dusty could only fiddle with his cap, unsure of what to do. He was afraid to hug her because it had the possibility of making the situation even harder on the both of them. His eyes looked down to his garrison cap, which looked as if it hadn’t even left a tailor shop’s window. He nodded to himself and tapped the sobbing mare’s shoulder. “Ms. Shy?” Dusty asked as delicately as he could.

        Fluttershy slowly peeled her face away from the pillow, her eyes as red as ever. Dusty reached for one of her hooves with sincere tenderness and  held it in his. The empty space in her fetlock was replaced by the grey and gold garment he had been wearing moments before. The Pegasus’ eyes widened as more tears began to flow out. Dusty pushed his other hoof against hers, making it grip the cap on her own. “I want you to have this…”

        “B-But… Why?” Fluttershy sniffled as she looked down at it. He looked to her with a small smile and a hint of hope in his eye.

        “I want you to have at least something to remember him by. And something to also be able to keep with you at even the darkest of times.” By now, Lyra was peeping over Fluttershy’s back to see what was going on. Her look of curiosity was replaced by a warm smile. Anypony could tell that she was proud of what her cousin was doing for her mourning friend. Dusty nodded and pushed her hoof towards her chest. “He loved you very much, and he told me that every single night. The least I can do is give something to the mare that let him be there with me for those last few days of the war…”

        Fluttershy’s lip cringed as she lunged out to hug his neck. Her weeps and sobs soon followed, blaring in his ear like an air raid siren. Dusty could only pat her back as he looked at Lyra, whose face was stricken with a sort of sympathy for both him and the Pegasus.

        “T-Thank you!” Fluttershy choked in his ear as she gripped her forelegs around his neck. He felt terrible for having to do such a thing to a mare who deserved the world. He could only imagine how the family would be…