Morrigan sighed, his bones frozen under his fur. This land had always been so forsakenly cold, but never had the frigid air clung to him as it did now. He had heard tales of times of green and gold, of times where everything flourished. Now, there was but cold and ice. Not the best, he thought to himself, for marching towards a possible battle.
He had been captain for 9 months now, not to mention his month of recovery from his injury. His wife was very pregnant, and here he was, stuck with his men. It was for a very important cause - one that he knew needed to happen - and while he intended to see it through, he wished it over quickly. The sooner the diplomatics and formalities were done, the sooner he could be home to his wife and soon to be born child. At least, he hoped there would be such things as diplomacy now.

“Captain!” Morrigan turned, ignoring the slight pain that showed it’s face as he did so. His chest never had truly healed after that battle. He still had a scar that displayed the wound for all to see, at least when his armor was off. “Sir, we’re nearing the castle.”

He nodded slightly. “Thank you, Iron.” Morrigan turned again to where he could see the spires looming over the horizon. He wasn’t quite sure why his men always found the need to state the obvious. Better cautious than dead, however. He supposed that would be a powerful trait to have in the battlefield.

The castle soon came into view, though it was still a ways far. Tall, frosty spires loomed over the horizon, the tower windows dark. The ponies who lived within would still be nestled in their beds, fast asleep. Time trudged slowly on, however. Morrigan knew, soon, the dawn would come and cast the castle in a golden glow.

Morrigan sighed softly. He despised what they were about to do. It reeked of rebellion and anarchy, and he knew that an assault on the castle could only end in casualties on both sides. But, this was a necessity. Morrigan simply hoped that battle was not necessary as well.

"Captain," another knight said. Morrigan remembered him, a new recruit, called Solid Shield. He was as young as Morrigan had been when he had his first real battle. "When will the battle commence?"

"For a man of a defensive type name, thou art quite eager for bloodshed," Morrigan said dryly. Thinking back, Morrigan realized that he had only been in small skirmishes as of yet. He was in for a bitter treat, then.

The young knight looked... Well, Morrigan struggled to find a better word than indignant. "Sir, battle will still occur. Diplomacy will fail. I think it better we waste not our time."

"But thou art not the Captain, Shield. I suggest thou follow mine lead - unless thine tongue wishes to be the one to order these men to the possibilities of death?"

Solid glared at Morrigan, but nodded as he acknowledged his superior. "Yes, sir."

Morrigan turned back to the castle that was steadily growing closer, letting the sounds of marching hooves and clattering armor fade away. He thought on the circumstances that had led him here - led him to the kings front lawns, his castles front gates. He sighed softly. This wasn't why he had become a knight, all those years ago - had it really been that long, or did battle just drain the life of a soldier? He recalled that he had dreamed of glory and untold power. And, while he had gained both, he did not realize the price of his choice.

Yet, he had to admit to himself - he had done good things in this world. He had protected his village from the changelings, a horrible foe he wished no pony to have to face. He had worked hard and had grown strong. Most of all, he was happy for his wife and child. He had a loving family, and that was better than anything.

That's why he did this. That was why he was now going to possibly battle with the most powerful man in the kingdom - the one who ruled over it all. He was going to protect his family and friends. This was his bitter duty - to send his trusting friends who had volunteered to join the knights into Deaths lethal embrace.

“Raise the white flag,” Morrigan commanded softly. As the sun rose, a captain and his men stood at the ready for the king.

As Morrigan would always remember, this was the beginning of the end. The day none ever wanted to happen, yet was inevitable. This was the day he truly died.
*~*~*~

Morrigan groaned as the courier left his tent that had been set up. The day had drawn on, the sun reaching it's blazing peak, and no word from the king had be sent. Finally, Morrigan had sent one of the young couriers to the front gates to request an audience. Only now had word returned - 10 minutes and a noble pony would speak with him on behalf of the king. All he could do now was wait.

He looked around his tent, surprised to see it just as bare as Cedar's had been. A sturdy table for diplomatic papers rested against the frost covered grass. Other than that, the room was as stark as the barren land outside it. He had never really noticed it before. He supposed that was military life, however - your possessions were few and your hardships doubled.

He sighed as he waited. Is this how Cedar had always felt, he wondered. Always thinking, always wondering if there's going to be another way to get through the current problem? Always wishing to know he had made the right choice? Softly, Morrigan massaged his temples, fighting a losing battle against his headache. Is that who I am now?

"Sir?"

Morrigan jumped lightly as the courier entered the tent. The boy cleared his throat, his voice wavering between a coltish tenor and a deeper baritone. "Sir, the diplomat hath arrived."

"Thank thee, boy," Morrigan said. "Thou canst relieve thine self of thine post, courier. Go and enjoy lunch." The boy smiled and nodded, making his leave.

A moment later, a pony, dressed in the most frivolous outfit Morrigan had ever had the misfortune to see, trotted in. Morrigan resisted the urge to laugh at the rather silly looking display. Was this what ponies in the castle wore? How cold the pony looked - armor chilled one, but it was nothing compared to the thinness of the stallions clothing. "Would I be addressing the captain of this rag - tag bunch of toy soldiers," the man said, his scathingness wittled to nothing by the clattering of his teeth.

Morrigan stood. "Whilst I am the captain of these men, I feel the need to assure thee of the fact that these men are, in fact, not toys. Furthermore," he continued, cutting off the noble's next remarks, "I must confirm that they have taken lives, and will do so again for the good of ponykind. Might it trouble thee to sit? I believe thou shalt find it more comfortable."

The stallion sputtered, his face flushing a light crimson. When he finally worked up enough breath to speak, Morrigan could tell he was angry. "I do not need thee to act a noble, Commoner. Thou art a peasant," he said, spitting out the words, "and I ask thee not to deceive thyself - especially with thy delusions of grandeur - in front of me."

"Anything thou wish, o' noble stallion," Morrigan said with a mocking bow. "I simply ask thou keep thy elitism and snobbery at the entrance of my tent, and treat me as thy equal." Before the nobleman could speak, Morrigan pointedly pulled out his sword. "Now," he said to the stunned stallion, "perhaps thou wouldst like to converse as civilized ponies?"
*~*~*~*

"It simply won't do," the royal delegate repeated. "The king, long may he reign, has lost his mind."

Morrigan shook his head. "These conversations have taken their toll for an hour now, and all we have gathered as yet is that simple proclamation?" Softly, he massaged his temples, an action he was beginning to grow used to. "All we ask is that the king, the lord that governs these kingdoms, actually lives up to that role! Instead, he hath left us cold and unshielded by his callousness. Thusly, we have come here today, battle ready, ready to face the king himself if needs be. We wish only for an audience with him, yet if peaceful negotiations cannot succeed, we will see him by force. He hath abandoned us for far too long."

"I tell thee, he'll not have this!" The delegate stood, shivering slightly from the cold. "The king sits alone on his throne, and no word from anypony, peasant or noble, will sway his majesty!"

"Yet sway he must!" Morrigan groaned, slamming his hoof on the table. "Can thy eyes truly be so blind as to not see the corruption that resides on the throne?"

"Of course I see it!" Morrigan's eyes widened. "We hath all seen how the kings eyes hath glazed over, how his heart trembles in shadow with his every breath! Yet if a single being dares stand to him, it always results in the same outcome: the king shall strike them down, all of them."

Morrigan stood quickly as the man began to leave. "This is not over, sir! If thou will not allow us an audience with the king, then we will make our way there by force!"

"Be my guest," the man said scathingly, bowing lightly. "But on thine own heads be it!" With a flourish of his outfit, the man spun towards the door and galloped away.

Morrigan sank into his chair, his head falling into his upright hooves. This was not the way it was supposed to happen. "Sir," a courier soon said, having entered the tent. "Sir, what word do I give the soldiers?"

"Diplomacy hath failed, boy..."

"Sir?"

Morrigan sighed, looking at the boy with weary eyes and a heavier heart. "Tell them diplomacy hath failed. We go to battle in the hour."

Author's Note

Separated into a few parts here. :33 I'll try and update, but I'm a little lost for time lately.
Note - I wrote this on my phone, mostly, so hopefully the typos aren't hideous.