Rainfall's Shroud

by Flammenwerfer

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sad, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Slice of Life, Alternate Universe
Length: 2761

As the Great War rages on, a Queen spends some quality time with her most dedicated soldiers.

As the Great War rages on, Kaiserin Regenfall IV of Alemaneia spends some quality time with her most dedicated, loyal soldiers.

Namely, the ones who paid the ultimate price.

*Set in The Flower Mare Universe. Reading is NOT required.*

Published 2018-10-27 18:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2018-10-27 18:10:02 UTC

Peace?

Author's Note

My usual practice with using foreign languages is to "bold" the dialogue to not break immersion. Since this technically only involves a language other than English (Alemaneian AKA German), there's no point in that.

Hope you enjoy!

Peace?

“Your Majesty…” uttered a meek, yet indignant voice just to the rear on her right. “May I speak freely?”

Her reply was as expertly stoic as her mirth was veiled:

“There’s little point in restraining your muzzle after all this time, General Ostwind.”

The general removed his black visor-cap and ran his right, booted-up hoof over his face. His charcoal-gray coat matched the very color of the sky itself—the latter playing host to thick, meandering clouds that would threaten to release their torrential fury within the next hour.

But much to her annoyance, she heard him sigh—a harbinger of him continuing with his meaningless attempts to sway her decisions in the slightest. She rolled her eyes out of his view and turned to face him, and she cast fierce, indifferent eyes that only a master of regal aura could muster.

And yet behind her piercing, golden pools—her left iris revealed its distinct aberration in which her pupil appeared to cut a thick rivulet of a swathe through it—she let no measure of the pity she felt for him be known.

She huffed and hid well the small up-curl of the right side of her lips. Ostwind felt he actually had influence with her in her personal, daily activities related to the goings of the War.

How quaint.

“Queen Regenfall… I just feel that your valuable time is better spent elsewhere.”

Regenfall reversed the curl of her lips, and her contemptuous gaze continued to bore a hole straight through him. And she knew her feelings were conveyed when Ostwind tread back two steps and averted his own gaze from hers. Her iconic golden eyes in conjunction with that light-gray coat so perfectly cared for, ensured unparalleled beauty…

…and an uncanny ability to intimidate at will.

Regenfall abruptly turned on her hooves and faced away from her general. Her muted cyan, Shoulder-length mane bounced with her sudden movement and continued to flow with the soft gusts of wind. The innumerable medals and Royal decorations that spanned the breast of her uniform jingled and clinked in kind.

“Leave me, General.”

Through shuttered eyes and pursed lips, her sharp ears flicked as she could practically sense Ostwind raising a tentative hoof in protest behind her.

And she added for extra clarification:

“And take the Honor Guard with you. I will remain here alone, and all of you will remain beyond the boundary until I emerge. Are my orders clear?”

She heard the long, soft sigh emanate from behind her.

“Yes, My Queen.”

And she knew there was no need to respond… especially when the soft sounds of his hooves sinking into the emerald grass grew even less discernible as Ostwind took his leave.

The Kaiserin opened her eyes and drew her gaze behind her. She was alone, with nopony but the breeze and the grass to keep her company at the entrance to her destination. She took a shaky, deep breath and exhaled once… but she felt little solace in such a preparatory breath. Her heart beat in her throat, and despite her form-fitting uniform and her crown with a single, golden spike adorning her head, they did little to dispel the chill in her breast.

Regenfall flared her nostrils, and willed herself forward. Her golden horseshoes sunk spongily into the thick grass as she passed under the marble archway with little passing heed at its words. She held her head high, and honed her steely, stoic gaze forward. In perfect marching cadence, she trot purposefully through the center row of stones. She dared not look at them.

Not yet.

After an eon had passed, Regenfall finally ended up at the very center. There she stood for a brief moment with her right hoof held tentatively above the grass.

She set it down and took one more deep breath before she spoke:

“Good morning, my noble warriors...”

There was no answer. Only the continued movements of the wind as it danced with the grass beneath her hooves. The concrete gravestones did not gratify her with any response.

The feelings of unease and not belonging continued to mix around in her stomach in a concoction that nearly made her nauseous.

But with another shaky breath, she continued:

“I… I just wanted to stop by. It’s the least I could do. I…”

Regenfall gulped hard and pursed her lips as she drew her eyes all around her surroundings. The stones were identical.

All the thousands of them.

“I hope you don’t think I’ve forgotten about you…”

The individual follicles of her coat stood on edge as the cold suddenly became more biting. A feeling of being watched from all directions washed over her.

She shut her eyes tightly, pleasing that this would offer her any solace from the feeling of being judged and jeered by the fallen.

You don’t belong here.

She shook her head firmly. With a gentle movement, used her right hoof to remove her crown from atop her head. She held it against her chest and let her gaze fall towards the grass in front of her.

“I assure you… I haven’t forgotten. I never will.”

Regenfall gazed around her, locking eyes with each of the ‘faces’ of the gravestones that stared back at her. Each the same material with a unique name inscribed.

They were tools to you..

“I um…” she hitched on her words before her eyes lit up a smidge.

“Oh! I bring news! The um… the war goes… adequately. The Prench and the Anglomanes are putting up stiffer resistance as we march into their heartlands but this was to be expected.”

Automation took over, and her mind steadied her hooves and calmed her mind as if she was giving one of her usual speeches.

“We are consolidating our gains, and are gearing up for another massive offensive drive towards the Prench Capital of Citadelle…

“It’s a shame you brave mares and stallions cannot be a part of it. Your gift would be dancing in the streets of the enemy’s heart. You of all ponies have earned that right…”

That light feeling in her chest dissipated as quickly as it came. Regenfall’s head was heavy, and she wilted her posture.

They were means to an end. For the future of the country? Or your ambition.

She again shook herself out of her heavy stupor.

“B-But what am I saying? You’ve earned your rest… away forever from the horrors of this war.”

They’re dead.

“And rest assured!” she said, pacing between two rows of stones. “Your husbands… your wives… and your children will all be cared for. Alemaneia is a wealthy country—we shall provide for them on behalf of you for your sacrifice…”

Regenfall clenched her eyes closed the moment that last word left her mouth. A lump formed in her throat and she struggled to take a deep breath.

YOU sacrificed them.

“I…” she uttered with extreme difficulty. Her eyes began to throb and ache. Her words were meeker.

“…I know that may not restore your comfort… or confidence in this nation. Or in me, but…”

She looked towards the ground and blinked the first teardrop into the lush grass beneath her.

They placed their lives willingly in your hooves. You wasted them.

“S-Surely you can understand the risks involved with any war!” she countered aloud her own internal strife. “I… I never called for conscription. We are an all-volunteer military unlike those barbarians to the west! Every pony fighting now is there on their own accord! If I—I know that—You must understand that…”

Regenfall could feel her mouth moving… but no words came forth at that moment. The second tear fell into the grass.

And she righted her posture completely, rallying and marshaling her words:

“The Prench and the Anglomanes! Yes… you know how they’ve been treading on us for decades. Inhibiting our glory. Ostracizing us in our own continent! Terrible trade deals, intimidation, economic strangulation! They crossed the line this time with their little incursion, and Alemaneia would not be tread on any longer!”

That fierce determination and purpose she was so used to feeling had whittled away… and her steely visage marred by the fresh, warm rivulets of her tears that continued to be shed.

“I… I knew war—even a just war—would have losses but…” she shook her head, eyeing the ground once more. “…not like this.”

Regenfall raised her head, and she felt a tidal wave of fresh tears was on the precipice of breaking upon that admission.

Locking her eyes with every stone she could see, she continued to shake her head.

“Not two-hundred thousand of you…”

Many could not be buried.

Her attempts to stop that tidal wave were futile, and it unceremoniously spilled over.

Murderer.

Within her mouth, Regenfall clenched her teeth tightly, but no solace came. Her face was hot now, boiling even with how fiercely her tears flowed like a broken faucet. Her hind legs wobbled, and with no regard for the look of her royal uniform, she collapsed her haunches to the ground and held her head low.

Tyrant.

Her beautiful bangs obscured her vision and draped low like a weeping willow around her face. Air refused to adequately enter her lungs and hitched in her throat continuously. She could only release that strangling pain in her heart with her cries as she finally, truly wept.

Abuser of blind loyalty.

Yet as she bawled, suddenly, she spoke anew in a barely comprehensible word salad as she could feel her strongest pangs of guilt in her full stomach… each beat of her heart felt like the twist of a knife in her diaphragm:

“My God… two hundred thou—I didn’t mean…

“It was supposed to be three months!” she exclaimed, righting her head to face her ‘subjects.’ Her mane stuck pitifully to her cheeks, and her vision was partially obscured as a result.

“I didn’t mean for this war to get out of control!” she cried, teeth clenched and bared. “Our new weapons were to bring a swift end to the conflict! Not prolong it!”

All the pictures of the battlefields that she was sent… all the short videos of the remains, the cratered fields, the corpses (what was left of them) and the gore. The casualty lists. They all flooded her head at an instant, and Regenfall felt a new eruption from her eyes as the realization hit her.

You turned them loose to ‘adventure.’ But you sent them to die.

“And what would you all do right now?” she muttered.

“Would you stand before me and jeer me? Curse me? Attack me?”

New reserves of fresh tears were brought forth once her next words left her mouth:

“And the war? What would you have me do?”

Her question was sincere… and though her mind had all grasps of reality, her heart beating within her begged for a response.

Any response.

An insult. A curse. A blade.

Something… other than a powerful gust of wind that tore through the military cemetery and sent an icy chill to Regenfall’s very core. The grass around her whipped against her as the wind crashed into her face, blowing her long mane behind her. There was a slight sting on her cheeks as the wind chilled her hot tears.

There was no response from the stones.

A painful, pitiful, enormous bout of anguish erupted from her mouth as she produced a feral roar and cry that echoed over the entire cemetary.

“WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO?!” she screamed and stood ramrod.

Her crown still held weight in her right hoof, and without a shred of care, she threw it against the ground with all strength and exertion she could muster. It bounced twice and came to rest in front of her.

“DO YOU THINK I WANT THIS?!” she howled.

Hot tears quickly warmed her cheeks once more.

“DO YOU THINK I WANT TO SEE YOU COME HOME WOUNDED? IN COFFINS?! OR NOT AT ALL?! A NATION OF ORPHANS?!”

You deserve everything you feel.

“ANSWER ME, GODDAMNIT!” she commanded.

The previous realization flashed again brightly inside her mind. She suddenly brought both of her hooves to her head and snarled, battling with her emotions and then releasing another hellish scream to the sky just as a drizzle erupted.

“GODDAMNIT NO! I DIDN’T SEND YOU TO DIE!

"OH GOD I DIDN’T SEND TWO-HUNDRED THOUSAND OF YOU TO YOUR GRAVES PLEASE NO…

"GOD NO… NO! NO PLEASE!

“I’M SORRY!

“OH GOD PLEASE FORGIVE ME I’M SO SORRY!”

This is YOUR future.

Her pleas with her fallen subjects fell on dead ears, and her wails and sobs slowly but surely petered out.

And as she felt the last bits of emotional adrenaline vacate her body, her limbs felt cold and lame. Regenfall let her haunches fall into the grass again, and with wide, reddened, soaked eyes, she stared unflinchingly at her shaky front hooves.

“W-What…” she shook her head again, and for the first time today, bothered to wipe her face of fresh tears.

The Queen then sniffled thrice and weakly lifted her head to level.

“What should I do?”

Sue for peace. End the slaughter.

“W-We… we can’t stop, my warriors…” Regenfall said under her breath, then flinched as if the stones would attack her for such words.

No such assault came, and she took the cue to continue softly lecturing:

“We are not in the position of strength we once were months ago. If we propose peace now… before our offensive… we risk everything.”

Everything? Or your reputation.

With pursed lips, she lamented the course of the war and continued her ramble:

“Everything we’ve fought and won… the price of victory. The price of a future. The price of our own place in the sun… paid with you,” she said.

Her voice devolved to a whisper.

“It would be for nothing. The Allies would ravage us for the destruction our three nations wrought. It would not be a peace treaty… but merely a twenty-year armistice.”

Regenfall looked at each and every headstone she could read, and silently read the names of those mares and stallions before her. She had regained control of her deep breathing, and her nerves had calmed enough where she no longer needed to tend to shaky hooves. Her golden eyes remained misty, but their fountains had fallen silent.

Regenfall willed the truth forth:

“We can’t end the war. Not until we march into the Prench capital at the very least. We need not destroy Anglomaneia.”

She took a deep breath and spoke again, and she gradually raised her voice in a powerful, forceful declaration:

“But mark my words… I swear to you. On my life… on my name, on the throne my haunches sit on, and on the children of our nation…” she began with fresh tears.

“We will have our place in the sun. We will burn Citadelle to ashes. And I will lay the key to that wretched city and their unconditional surrender at the foots of your graves, as we will have carved out our brilliant future!

“All that we… that you paid…” Regenfall asserted with every fiber in her lungs. She pointed at every single stone she saw.

“…shall be matched by the Prench and Anglomanes several fold!”

She released what remaining breath she was holding and lowered her head. She could feel the tickle of the long blades of grass against her nose.

Her declamation continued with a whisper.

“And then? Perhaps… only perhaps then, you may forgive me.”

Her lungs were empty. Her mind was numb. Her head drummed against the inside of her skull with each throb. Her mouth hung open and deep breaths were exhaled from her chest. The rain had picked up and had matted her mane to her face completely.

The uniform was a shade darker.

And finally, her tears were spent.

Regenfall dropped onto her stomach in the center of the row of stones, and felt that there was no more she could say. Whatever time she had left, she softly smirked at the thought of lying down and spending some quality silence.

Silence with her bravest, noblest soldiers.

And she was more than happy to remain there… even as the rainfall shrouded the cemetery and surrounding land on that cold, Alemaneian, autumn morning.

"Please forgive me..."