“Do I fear? Aye… Failure, chain and collar, me Gale and Ash come to harmBut only one thing truly cause me a coldness of soul, a dread down to me bones… Folks ask why alicorns don’t have their hooves on our necks. Easy: they know their fucking place. us feather bags aside, ponies are good folk by large. And we follow them if they good and right queens. Attero dominatus… destroy the bad rule. A fine sentiment… from the earth ponies.

The old dams… kind old mares they are, sweet as honey. Midnight likes em fine, and they always got a head pat and a sweet for her, and fuss over me when they about… but they glare at Sunbeam. Foal kill they understand, they got the hawk eye on Midnight. Me mare got her warning… wolfs teeth and crow feathers wrapped in pony tail hair. She may not know fear, but she knows who not to cross under any circumstance. Ones the Queens… the others those old mares. Don’t know what she know, but if Sunbeam is giving a respectful tone and careful words or a wide birth to a pony, you know their a thing to be afraid of.

I been about the land… walked the moores and mists, seen the people… I see the deer and squirrel and wolf, see their eyes, know they watching me, hear them whispering to their masters. I see something in the dark of the woods, see it move, and know the animal tenders got something there. And I’d as soon not see it in the light. I’ve spoken to their berserkers. The mares are vicious things they are, crazier then a dung hole rat, and brutal in ways only the cruelest of females can be. Who do they fear? The stallion variant. Gentle as lambs, patient as mountains, and control herds of mare berserkers. Why would mare be so subservient? Because I’ve seen the same stallions bite through wingblades, tear out ancient trees in moments, and survive demons, rebel soldiers, and golems too rip the head of the Warlock who hurt his mares.

Pegasus ain’t the reason we’ve survived with barely a picket fence… its the free people of Equestria who tend to its defense. Slow to wrath, quick to forgive, but have caused me spine to shiver in chills and my heart to quicken… terrors untold from the most decent of folks. Never see it coming.”
-Shadow Kicker

It should be of note that while much during the Rebellions has been overshadowed by the Cult of Shadows and House Sparkles publications, the fact remains that no, without Shadow, things would have not fallen to Nightmare. While yes, some militias did engage Warlocks and Clan pegasi, they did so on the enemies terms. Where the earth ponies thrived though was simple: I will run, hide, draw the enemy to me. Use the terrain, make it work for me. Withdraw, feint, regroup, then attack. Dishonorable, despised as cowardly by pegasi, not the act of a true warrior! But their enemy wasn’t there to spar or play by their rules… they were there to see how many they could see die for the glory of Pegasopolis.

As the Rebellion escalated and the guerillas tactics began to wane, numerous reports indicated troubles elsewhere. First, animal attacks. Wolves, bears, elks and doe’s, toads, pigmy marmisets, and most terrifying, honey badgers, began making Pegasi lives miserable. Then the food rotted. Fresh supplies began rotting in mere hours, town inn meals turning to ash in warmonger mouths as wine soured to vinegar. Soon even water grew foul, though only for the rebels. Stories abound of gorgeous mares and wizened old dams taming summoned demons or seen leaving a commanders tent before he cheerfully ordered his troops into a death trap before slitting their own throat, warlocks found in torpor, their souls ripped away. Entire legions disappearing in the night to show again years later, memories gone of who they were or how they came to be peacefully living in their cities and towns.

Oddest perhaps was in the final days. After Nightmares debut, it seems many pegasi reported being unable to bear touching the earth at all. Even clad, once they did, their frogs would split and blister. As one of them said the land itself turns against us. Lets hope with our victory and the land we gain being enough to bury our dead it doesn’t spit the corpse back out.

Sadly, most ponies have little interest in such things. What commoner deed or tactic can compare to armor with Shadow’s soul in it or Sunbeams pyromancy. Artic Sirroco though seems to by far and large to dismiss this idea as bullocks. Such things are tools. The weapon is the person.

While few remember the rebels reasoning to be in Salt Haven, namely too gain entry to their Archive, the sum total of all earth pony wisdom, philosophy, law, and history, and destroy it, many remember Sirocco. The white wolf, a coward to the rebels, a monster to loyalists, a tribalist to most, and a friend to those in need. He was as his nation needed him, whether monster or stallion, brave knight or cold hearted executioner. But above all else, one thing remains…

What drew him to his deed? Why slaughter so many in such a way? One at a time in the dark and cold, making them desperate and terrified before slitting them open. An act done as though they had made a personal affront to him…

…………………………….

Armor clinked softly as the legions commander pushed aside the entrance to her tent, her gray blue eyes as chilled as the sea as she looked over her camp. Before her, her fellow pegasi had set up various tents, much like her minus decoration, about an empty patch of land they’d learned about from the locals of their new city, the port Salt Haven. While mostly a seamans gallery and boat wright city, Salt Haven had one other asset.

The Archive.

Ears perking at the sound of wings overhead, the mare looked up, and smiled as a stallion in simple plate landed, and with a salute said “Commander Boreas. I have news!”

Snapping a salute back, Boreas replied evenly “I take it then private we’ve acquired the tomes? Were most lost when we flooded it?”

Sighing, the stallion shook his head.

“We have them… but no. Water proofing somehow. Not spells. Some mud pony trick we can’t be arsed to ponder over. And… we lost a lot of warriors.”

“I’m sorry? I fail to see how any of ours would be foolish to stay in a flood zone when…”

“We were ambushed Commander. Once the water drained, we went in. More earth cunts dickery, something to do with barrels… they used Saddle Arabian crossbows from the upper floors and shadows, the cowards. We made a push, killed all but one. Their commander.”

At this Boreas smiled.

“Ahh… so we have him then?”

Nodding, the stallion turned, and with a sharp whistle, summoned two of their fellows, dragging a hooded figure between them, his fetlocks in shackles. Pulling away his hood, Boreas smiled at the stallion underneath… then sighed as his spit splattered across her face.

“As charming as ever.”

The stallion they had brought was a brute of an earth pony, his frame huge, imposing, and covered in scars. He bore no armor, but had worn a skull over his face. A berserker, and worst still, a veteran berserker. Boreas had been hunting him since Bright’s ascension, an order from the mare herself. Alicorns were powerful, but in terms of sheer power, even a mare could overwhelm Bright. A stallion… worse still, Bright seemed to regard this wretch with respect. He grinned, the over the hill ugly fuck was smirking.

“Boreas! My rambling rose, my singing angel, my beloved nightingale!”

He was also the stallion who’d seen a foal into her belly. It was early, Boreas could still fight for now, so she did. When she first met him… Most of the stallions there were young bucks, but this one… fifty winters at best, and could still whip the whole inn one hoofed. Well muscled, scars of valour… but what drew her in were his eyes. Violet, warm as summer, kind… but with the warning under the surface. This was not a stallion to be trifled with. As such, he had grown so scarred and fearsome looking no mare would go near. He couldn’t even pay a consort. Boreas saw all this… and in an hour was breaking a bed with him. She… did love him. And his son would be born strong, like his sire. Smile widening, Boreas took his hoof in both of hers and kissed him softly.

“My Temeritous. How are you these days love?”

Smirking sliding as though it were greased, Temeritous leaned forward, causing his two guards to shake their wings blades in warning.

“Been a sight better if you lot weren’t her too burn me tribes legacy.”

Sighing, Boreas patted her stallions shoulder.

“Its for the best dear heart.”

Slumping slightly, Temeritious sighed.

“Mare… this Rebellion, all this misery… for what? What does all this death gain you? What harm have my tribe done you to see our ways burnt and despoiled? And now… Boreas, your fool soldiers already have exposed ancient works to the air, destroying. The musings of Level Head, the Republic of Roam, Notions of Right to Rule, old blue prints too structures we haven’t seen in eons… all dust now. My tribes works undone… what right grants you such cruel want?”

“Temeritous… Our Queen is in preparation to see the weak mare from the throne, my clan and tribe are poised and armed. A better world for all my love! Can you imagine, no more nobles or gentry, one earns ones place! As it should be!”

“So much for mortal rule then.”

Boreas sighed, and taking her canteen, took a draw.

“I knew you’d be difficult.”

“Damn it Boreas! I fucking translated The Notions of Rule! It is of the darkest deed to force consensus, to decree others will! You seek to depose one tyrant for another! This… this world you seek… its wrong love. Never mind mortal rule, why should alicorns rule at all? For that matter, who decided Bright Charger would rule? The people? Nay, it was done no doubt away from the foalish populi, no need to fret their tiny minds with such troubles as their own ruler.”

Boreas scowled, and poked a hoof into the stallions chest.

“Weakness, my love, is a luxury we can no longer afford. They sought to see my tribes ways undone, dared to send interlopers to…”

“Too what? Maybe see something of actual harm? Your fellow murdered a stallion for little more then duty, then kicked up sand when that daft Sunbeam cunt took vengeance. You didn’t do it for your ways, you did it for pride! And how is what you do here any more virtuous then that stallions?”

“Because we know we are right. Because we know what it takes to see our foals made strong, to be above simpering words and coddling thoughts. Too raise them too be strong!”

“Strong…”

Pushing his face to hers again, Temeritus growled “See this scar under me eye? Me mother did that. Said I was shit, and sold me off. See the others? Thats twenty years as a pit fighter love. Twenty years watching lions rip open mare and foals to entertain fops. Twenty years that made me strong. Boreas… I wouldn’t wish my strength on anyone. You think you’re above the Maker’s tenets… that you’re above morality. That killing is ever justified… I killed nine hundred and twenty two souls. I wish I’d seen what I’d become… I’d let them end me. I am of warm heart to know I’ve not brought a foal to…”

“You have.”

Temeritous stopped short, blinking.

“What?”

Smiling, Boreas pressed a hoof to her stomach plate.

“Meet your sire little wing.”

Temeritous took the hoof in his, his face torn with warring emotions.

“When Boreas? How… I… why didn’t you seek me out?”

Boreas gave a wing shrug.

“It doesn’t matter to us. Its my foal, and thats…”

“Its mine too.”

Seeing her eyes narrow, Temeritous scowled.

“It is damn it. I sired…”

“Its a colt.”

Temeritous hoof tightened over hers, and his features light up again.

“A colt! I’m to have a son! Did you lads hear that?”

The two warriors looked towards the other, then back to their charge.

“And?”

Throwing up his shackled fetlocks, the earth stallion bellowed “I’m a father you sods! I’m to have a colt, bloody congratulate me!”

“... Why?”

Smile fading, Temeritous face harshened.

“Say it.”

The left warrior gave a nod, but the other snorted derisively.

“My mother raised me all alone, and saw me a warrior. What does anypony need with fathers?”

Temeritous scowl lessened a touch as he said simply “Son… Fathers show colts how to be stallions. Whether by blood or choice, a colt needs a father.”

At this, the stallion bristled his wings flexing.

“I am a stallion mud horse.”

The earth stallions look turned pitying.

“You’re a male. Easy to do that son. Being a stallion takes work.”

As the warrior started forward, Temeritous put a hoof on his head.

“Son… look around you. You don’t know what being a stallion means. You couldn’t. Being one… it means you put away foalish things. Thinking a weapon makes you better, petty insults, granting your warrior title with to much virtue and too little grace. You speak of honor… but what does that mean? Parroting the words of Epochs? Living in a hold? Stand on your own colt, find your own way, learn temperance and keep true the Makers Tenants. The shames of killing, or the blood rite, of minds ingress, the theft of soul, the sully of the carnal… Study law and philosophy, learn your letters well and read for yourself the tomes and scriptures. Learn a craft and trade, be more then you are yesterday, an hour, a minute, a second ago. Be one others rely on, the rock to cling too in the storm. And then… well, your on your to being a stallion.”

The warrior pegasus took a step back… then nodded.

“I will sir.”

Nodding, Temeritous turned back to his mare… and found a wing blade at his throat. Sighing, he regarded his mare sadly.

“Boreas… kill me, and ten arise. A hundred each with them. You have warlocks, alicorns, the might of clans and warmakers… but you will lose.”

Bearing her teeth, the mare snarled “Why damn it? Where do we lack Temeritous, what in your eyes is in us wanting!”

“Conviction. Care. You’d see the world like this for all time, a place of cold hearts and wickedness. You seek too destroy our hope, that all that we can hope for is either your rule or death? Mare… the sun will rise again, and be all the brighter. All good and evil in life has its spring and winter. The world and its people change… you can save your clan Boreas! Its not too late, but not as you want it.”

“Damn it stallion, its my honor at stake! My fucking pride! If I change or the clan does, that is lost! Then what do I have Temeritous?”

Pushing the blade away, the stallion pressed a hoof to her plate.

“Me. And our colt. A family. I don’t have a hold, but enough that you and him will never hunger. A decent life Boreas… Please, let me help you. Let me be a father.”

The mare looked at her lover a moment, then sighed.

“I’m sorry Temeritous… no. My clan needs warriors… stallions confuse matters. He will be raised well our son, raised pegasus.”

“Such a pity my love you do not seek to raise him to be a good person.”

As she walked back to her tent, the stallion shouted “I… I won’t forgive this Boreas! You have no right to deny my own kin to me! I deserve this, I have the right to it! Damn it mare, let me do one good thing in this fucking life!”

Boreas merely slid her tent flap closed.
……………………………..
A lone stallion wandered through the mass grave, eyes roaming over the ponies their. Cut to shreds, the rank of piss and shit, gelded and de clitted… they had been defiled.

“Go… seek the Maker in the Forever plains. And may we meet again in the road ahead.”

Climbing out of the pit, he regarded the gagged and bound mare at its edge. Snow and ice swirled from his horn, and in moments a dagger formed. Twirling it in his aura, he smiled. The mare began struggling at the horror.

“Sloppy work my dear. Allow me to show you the field healers guide to female circumcision… and then we can talk about opium and how many of you there are and all that minutia.”

Author's Note

I'm only planning a couple of chapters for this one. Just a bit of back story