Author's Note

Hello, it's Fireflower as always ready to give you another chapter on the way: of course, this chapter contains references to certain subject matters and thusly the reason why this story has been rated M for Mature; of course, you'd already known that far too well so as such, this will be the last time I mention it.

Aside from disclaimers long ago, I'd like to take this time to say thank you for never pulling out too early since we're now in the halfway region of the story's progress; somehow, the new year will provide us with a new hope to have and hold with tender loving care rather than yet a totally lost cause and the strength to continue onward in staying tuned for the future that is the now: I believe at this rate, everything will make sense soon enough.

One last thing before I sign off, I want to let you know that another old friend is also going to be joining the story that I'm sure y'all, remember; in additional, there's also another original character serving as a reminder of whom was lost along the way over the years so to speak of: as such, please don't steal him from me.

Malus

It was a dark and stormy day, but it’d still possessed the light that was hidden away from the eyes of its own observers whom were now running about at this moment in time thereof. The silver linings that could have been easily found as the shine in the storm were overshadowed by the outpouring of rainwater falling upon terra firma almost immediately nevertheless. Some sounds of thunder currently rolled about within the vast storm clouds while refrained waves of lightning carved its way throughout with their blinding speed and synchronicity. Unbound by the vast spaciousness of the very atmosphere alone, the cluster of grays and whites with the occasional colors spread further apart all over the lands and waters underneath. Kiloliters worth of achromatic fluids had already saturated the terrain, many square acres of it all were gaining the very texture more malleable than even the stone and metal themselves. Accompanying the rain and thunder were the howling winds now moving the sands and plants which had already completed the interactive orchestra for its surrounding environment.

Speaking of the environment in question, it was nothing short of a desert, no different from the ones before but not the same either way so to speak. Of the areas therein, there was a fence made with the finest of steels and black as night, yet the sanctity thereof was still upheld in principles alone. Despite the abundance of stones, there were trees in the middle of it all, each of them bearing an abundance of flowers in various colors and species. A lot were observed by wayward pedestrians traveling about with only a semblance of awareness regarding their solitary purpose within their spacing. Such was the still life and times of this small thicket, united by a common goal with solidarity and reflection as they were stared upon all the same.

Standing out amongst the few denizens traversing to and fro was but a lonely man found to be tearfully staring deep at the small tree in a rather melancholy trance. His skin was one of the fairest within the land and beyond, his coating reminiscent of the palest goldenrod yet had been showing signs of some wear and tear alone. The bright man’s eyes had already possessed some brilliant pistachio fertile with life yet listless as they were offset by moisture and underlined by curvatures below. His locks were but a mixture of gamboge and amber, both sharing the same level of brilliance despite vying for dominance and covered by a widen jet–black hat. The bright ginger also wore a matching ensemble of textiles shielding him from the hard rain: a shirt, vest, gloves, pants, and boots; also, a blue umbrella was held.

“HERE LIES LITTLE STRONGHEART – LOVING DAUGHTER OF CHIEF THUNDERHOOVES, MAIDEN OF THE BZHEKE TRIBE, GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN” the stone pillar read, standing between the tree and himself all while being adorned with flowers at the base thereof.

After another gust of wind howled against the crashing thunder, it was now time for the bright ginger to chime in with a wheeze, despite being so weary, “howdy, Lister; it’s Braeburn again: Ah hope that everything is well in the Great Beyond like usual, all peaceful and the like. Even after all these years, Ah think of ya always, yer smile and yer laugh: the fact that Ah am still breathing has been nothing but pain every waking day ever since, especially after learning what had been done t’ ya; even now, the dreams in which Ah can see ya there have left me in tears. Ah am not angry anymore, but the blame’s gotta fall on me: after all, Ah am torn apart when Ah think that Ah won’t be there t’ see yer child come into this cruel sick unrepentantly inexcusable example of our world cradled in yer arms and the first smile; it’s even worse knowing what had happened t’ mah cousins, especially Applejack of all people. Even now, Ah can’t stomach looking her in the eye knowing how much she’d suffered before the war began and what she’d tried t’ do t’ her sister Apple Bloom; Ah guess this is something Ah can never come close t’ understanding their pain if at all, let alone yours seeing that Ah am a male, just Big Macintosh, may he rest in peace as well. The postwar life has left weary and teary and the only things stopping me from ending it all are mah responsibilities t’ the people of Appleloosa, yer father’s tribe, mah surviving family, and yer son Chargestone. Little Chargestone Dreams’ still able t’ grow into a beautifully strong boy, despite what the doctors said ‘bout him; it’s actually tragic when people think ‘bout all the stories about children born through such circumstances and all: diseased, stillborn, miscarried, aborted, abandoned, shunned, abused, neglected, endangered, all at society’s leisure. Ah am grateful that he looks a lot like ya when we’d first met, even after all was said and done about it; it’s funny but here Ah am in maybe the hottest place in Equestria and yet somehow Ah feel like the luckiest man alive: most like and unlike many of us would’ve snapped from the heartbreak and leave behind a trail of blood, sweat, and tears. Even now, Ah worry about what’s been happening all around Equestria, especially Ponyville since Applejack is still there in the asylum; what they’ve done t’ us was an injustice many wouldn’t be so keen t’ forgive or forget, especially with so many survivors now on the cusp of sending a message t’ anyone most daring t’ try and fail, like many others before. Here’s t’ hoping we don’t find ourselves reliving the horrible memories of war ever again, lest we forget; ‘til then, Ah will see ya next time…”

After a few more crackles of lightning flashed across the seas of silver, he’d planted a nosegay upon the flourishing ground upon the stones instantaneously; soon, the scenery was scanned by the likes of himself. Of course, there was no other significance whatsoever to strike Braeburn’s glowing green eyes, especially considering his current location and the sole purpose thereof, not to mention the very precipitation there. In any case, it was time for the bright ginger to leave since there was nothing else more he could say or do for that matter; after all, the tasks at hand were cleared but the skies above were not as far as he could see.

As he’d attempted to depart from the ocean of stony lonesomes and the plants sticking out, the sight of another man had come in full view no less. Braeburn was quick to notice the differences between themselves: unlike him, the bystander was tall, dark, and gruesome altogether so to speak of. Considering the attire, it’d be safe to say that they’d have shared common ground, literally and figuratively; at least, it’s what many would’ve seen. Donning thicker clothes, the onlooker was unfazed by the bright ginger’s proximity, covered in darkness yet still in the light of day to still be seen.

Standing next to the bystander in black was a metal contraption lain out in the pouring rainstorm for Braeburn to also take note of so to speak of. With a balance of curves and angles in their proper places, most of the materials were colored in the world of midnight itself, despite the timing. In spite of all the moisture accumulating about, the surface area of the machine refused to yield, unlike the earth and all of its current bounties. The lights upon them were off, compared to the very electricity still flashing about throughout the firmament, not that any of the males cared. Looking glasses held firm against the rainwater due to the sizes, velocities, and textures alone, each drop beating against them before descent.

“So, I take that your delivery has been completed…?” the tall man had asked the bright ginger almost instantaneously so to speak of, lowly yet clear enough to be heard all the same as the latter nodded, “alright then, let’s return…”

“Thanks, Jayden…” Braeburn sighed plainly.

It didn’t take much for the bright ginger to approach the vehicular mechanism, opening the door and closing his umbrella before entering the confined space at once. Instantaneously, Braeburn was now put at ease with the humid yet dry interiors as the internal atmosphere became more freely flowing compared to his experience. In spite of the fact the heat was vaporizing the moisture clinging to the bright ginger’s body, he couldn’t help himself but to shed more tears than they’d been wiped. If the sight of those graves wasn’t enough to remind Braeburn of his solitude, then perhaps his very own reflection would’ve been moreso to increase his loneliness.

Nevertheless, the bright ginger found himself shunted off in an instant, hearing a slight rumble escape into the outside world as a flash of lightning blinded his eyes briefly; afterwards, he’d averted his gaze from the windowsill at once and stared at the wooden paneling holding the contraption together as its wheels were already into motion now. At long last, Braeburn had left the stones and trees behind as the falling rain beating against the hard surface area of the large machine resonated within his ears, each drop reminding him of the uniform temperature and textures alike when he was once staring at them with the same singular emotion upon his face only to have been imprinted all too soon. The bright ginger was apathetic to the growing population density throughout the drive, each varying in terms of whichever appearances and demeanors like and unlike himself and Jayden; this was a sign that the cold distance between start and finish was becoming finalized in their eyes, not that the former was in the mood to take pleasure alone. Even with the growing reality of having to exit the vehicular mechanism once more was firmly within the forefront of it all, Braeburn felt that the need to stay away from the outside world no matter how disconnected was to be satisfied at all costs, something in which many others would be more than happy to relate to irregardless of such background.

Soon enough, the bright ginger was faced with the sight of one building amongst many with the very area: it was a homestead free of stereo but otherwise brimming with life and liberty no less. Though there were some copious yields filled by a potentially golden harvest ripe for the taking, it was still barren, save for an abundance of crops drinking in the rainwater without any question. A wooden fence overlooking the tiny area had sat still on the solid ground, planted neatly all throughout the way as it’d kept all of the plants isolated from the little green house on the prairie. In close were a few trees standing nearby as they’d provided the home with food and aromas ready to be picked and chosen at the user’s leisure at any given time between now and onward. Nearby it all was one of the mountainsides lurking about without so much as a care, posing of little consequence to either individual present and accounted for, especially Braeburn most of all.

Speaking of which, the bright ginger had summoned all his regaining strength to climb right out of the metal contraption at once: carrying the umbrella out with him, his boots were reacquainted with the weight of the world resting about heavily on himself; one of the only cold comforts given was a wayward comment from its driver, “I’ll come see ya around, Braeburn…”

“Same here, Jayden…” the titular traveler talked tersely before the wheeled machine drove off again, this time leaving him behind to face the structure up in front of his weary green eyes, “well then, Ah guess it’s time already…”

A deep breath escaped from the bright ginger’s lips before he’d found himself reaching into his pocket to fish out a small goldenrod key; afterwards, both feet guided themselves towards the brown door where its knob had served as a mediator between both home and world. Almost immediately, he was all too quick to open the door and enter the building after sliding the metal in and out with a click between; now, he was safe and secure from the heavy weather still wreaking havoc upon the surface world and its inhabitants he’d made contact with. At the very least, Braeburn had wasted no time in immersing himself with the dimensions of this domicile in question, his jaded orbs instantaneously presented by a cyan background of wood all throughout its very confines from top to bottom as they’d held themselves together. Adorning the flooring was a thin carpet found in the epicenter of the floor nearest to the bright ginger’s boots, bearing the color and textures reminiscent to the green grass of home so much there were several curves and a few apples etched within the flatter surface darkly. All the windowsills in this very area had been accented by a pair of curtains as red as the apples themselves to the point of bearing the static patterning in which the sosaid fruit had been adorned despite all of them way too flat to even bear any density or taste within whatsoever. Adjacently towards him was a stony fireplace with its logs drier and more barren than the desert itself as far as he’d seen it recently, having already climbed between both the midnight cabinet and the burgundy sofa with pictures sitting on its shelves safely above the ground.

“Daddy’s home…!” was all that Braeburn could hear instantly, shrill yet masculine with all the youthfulness to differentiate between themselves.

At this present moment, a pair of footsteps were suddenly trailing off into the bright ginger’s direction in a matter of seconds: they’d belonged to a pair of tenants revealing themselves to be sharing the same gender as the entrant as far as he’d just seen; between the twosome alone, they were more different from each other as he was to them, much like how similar all the same too. The first of the inhabitants instantaneously greeting Braeburn was another tall adult whom also borne a brightly clear skinned complexion with eyes of starry sapphires and small brown hair, wearing a set of textiles consisting of an off–white undershirt and a true blue vest with a pair of ash gray khakis being held together with only a jet–black belt alongside with some beige loafers. The other was a shorter child with integuments fifty shades darker than either adult in or out of the household altogether no less: all of his very tresses were snow white, save for a few peachy highlights, each barely poking out of the surface of his scalp alone; the youth’s attire was just as uniform as the wearer’s eyes itself, red flannels covering the flesh to the sheer extremities alone.

It didn’t take much for Braeburn to return the favor, “hey guys, Ah am home; did any of y’all miss me…?”

“Who wouldn’t…?” the elder brunet had purred as the bright ginger took off his jet–black hat and hung it upon some short pole near the door, “howdy, Braeburn; how did your errands go for you…?”

“Same as usual; anyways, how was Silver Spoon lately: did she managed t’ stop by and visit ya lately, Silverstar…?” the eponymous entrant had replied as he’d turned to face them both again, this time with the former’s hair bared and dry for the twosome to see clearly as the present day itself.

The aforementioned tenant was quick to speak clearly at once, “not since last week I’m afraid, but I believe that one of her friends from Ponyville did: I think her name is Diamond Tiara and she was staying over at Miss Pinkamena’s apartment overnight in the meantime; anyways, it seems that she hasn’t been able to get in contact with her either. In any case, she said there was a letter she’d wanted to deliver personally since I’d last seen her; of course, I highly doubt that anyone with this much wealth in the family would want to go out there all alone for that reason.”

“Agreed… Ah bet that Applejack would’ve brought her friends over again like she’d done when they were delivering Bloomberg…” the bright ginger said before turning his gaze towards the singular youth with a gentle visage as the former had knelt down slowly, “how was school today, Chargestone: did ya make any friends yet…?”

“No, daddy, and I don’t want to go back tomorrow…” the titular tyro tersely talked timidly to Braeburn in a timely fashion.

It didn’t take much for the bright ginger to ask the highlighted youth, “why don’t ya want t’ return t’ school…?”

“It’s this schoolboy Painted Valleyfair: he has black teeth and calls me names; he even said that I have a gay dad just because I have no mom…” Chargestone had answered Braeburn immediately, the latter’s eyebrow furrowing about only ever so briefly so to speak of no less, “Mister Silverstar said I have to go back; please tell him not to make me…”

“Perhaps this should be enough t’ convince ya t’ continue: as much as everyone else hates this, school is very important and he’s right about it more than ya will ever come t' know soon enough; now, don’t ya worry ‘bout little Painted Valleyfair, ‘cause Ah talk t' the teacher tomorrow…” the bright ginger had said to the highlighted youth with comfort inside no less.

It didn’t take much for Chargestone to blurt out in an instant, “but he’s not little; he’s bigger than me…! He’d even made fun of my mom by saying she’s ‘a dirty squaw that sucks cocks in Tartarus, just like that naggy witch Chrysalis’…”

“WHAT?!” Braeburn choked out, turning away just in time to avoid coughing directly into the highlighted youth’s face; at this point, rather than being a normal person, he’d felt like having awoken in the body of a sleeping giant filled with a terrifying resolve, shaking about to and fro despite staying still, “Sheriff, please tell me this isn’t what had happened at school today…”

“I can’t, as a matter of fact, that was just the tip of the iceberg: the school nurse told me that he’d been taken to the clinic during lunchtime after throwing up on one of the students; she told me to take him straight on home in the meantime…” the lonely brunet softly sighed as he’d looked upon at Chargestone with a somber gaze so to speak of no less.

This was of little comfort to the bright ginger as he was still detached from the earthly plane of existence, barely hearing sounds from there before coming back around to ask Silverstar already, “Ah see then, what else did she say…?”

“She also said to watch him very carefully since his immune system is having a hard time fighting off the bug by itself…” the elder brunet answered immediately before walking past them to face the door Braeburn had arrived in not too long ago, “I’m gonna go to the pharmacy and see if they have any medicines for him to take; do you want anything from there, Braeburn…?”

“No, not at all…” was all that the bright ginger could say to Silverstar so to speak of all the while.

A full beat of silence had interceded between the three of them before the elder brunet broke it, “I’ll go and straighten this out with the schoolmaster just in case we meet in person; you have Chargestone back to yourself in the meantime: he needs all the help he can get and you’re the only one he happens to listen to as far as I can see it…”

“Ah know that, and Ah know the reason all too well…” Braeburn whispered listlessly as he’d handed the umbrella over to Silverstar without resistance, “ya go on ahead…”

“Last chance: you still want anything from there…?” the elder brunet had asked before opening the door to face the ongoing storm no less.

The bright ginger turned to face Silverstar again and had replied, “no, nothing for me; just get him some of the medicine…”

“Daddy, is there something wrong…?” the highlighted youth asked Braeburn with little hesitation whatsoever, walking right over to the latter’s side slowly, “you’re acting a bit weird… please stop…”

“Sorry, it’s been a long day anyway, Ah should go get some sleep; speaking of which, Ah think it’s about time for you t' go t' bed…” the bright ginger talked, finding the strength to stand back up and carrying Chargestone around behind the former’s back.

Although the impulse to climb on had been embraced instantaneously, the highlighted youth had chirped quickly, “but I’m not tired, daddy…”

“Ya will be soon enough; kids these days need all the sleep they can get and ya need it more than anybody else does: I guarantee it…” Braeburn chucked demurely to Chargestone, now carrying the latter away from the elder brunet whom had started heading out of the door in a matter of seconds no less.

Before shutting the door, Silverstar grunted softly, “in any case, I’ll be back within thirty minutes or less: it’s probably nothing to worry about, for the most part; goodbye…”

“Bye…” the bright ginger said to the elder brunet as the highlighted youth was now left in the company of the former no less, “it’s been about seven years since he came into this world as a reject: they look into these eyes then they see the size of the flames; dwelling on the past has been burning on my brain and everyone that burned had to learn from the pain. I think about the day I’d seen Little Strongheart again, too spaced out to realize how wet and messy she and the others were when they found her at the Cavern no less; she was so young and so innocent, how could anyone ever even dare to take advantage of her like that, using and abusing her like some soiled dove and of the chief’s tribe no less?! I know of the histories in which indigenous populations had met gruesome fates here and there, especially before Grogar came along to Equestria; one would think that after all these years, the least we can do is come to an understanding and share the prosperity like friends should, but I guess it was all a lie. It was one thing to use the war as an excuse to sow the seeds of destruction, whether as a preemptive strike or in massive retaliation; tribes or no, I’d never thought that she would be passed around like some bag of popcorn in a movie theater, let alone at such an age. The real tragedy is if it hadn’t been for this damned war, then she would’ve been still alive, happy and healthy like all the others; of course, what did I honestly hope to expect: her illnesses to clear up even after having been taken one ride too many like every other girl like and unlike her?! They may as well could’ve ended her, just like all the other tribesmen they’d shot and/or strung up, but no, they just had to suffer the worst of fates; women and children being sold away as slaves here and abroad to the highest of bidders, all to destroy them and for what reason: pure profit, simple superiority, or the fact these tribes were standing in the way of rapid progress?! If they’d thought they could control the survivors through sex, drugs, and violence, then I don’t think how it would work with the military; this world has spent far too much of its lifetime fighting and killing, all the while leaving behind widows and orphans as well as kids like Chargestone born in the same place to be hurt as their parents were hurt. We need to do right by these kids and the best way to do it is to remember the legacy of the Princesses, especially Cadance of all people no less; I know for a fact had she lived, she would’ve loved to see more happier and long–lasting marriages: I already know far too well who I would’ve been married to had Strongheart lived but that’s neither here nor there. All that matters now is making sure that he gets the best life worth living just as much as any other child, healthy and otherwise; after all, it’s what she would’ve wanted, even knowing what these monsters in peoples’ clothing had done to her at the end of the day: I know that Granny Smith isn’t alive anymore after what happened, but even she wouldn’t go down without a fight.”

The beating of rainwater continued outside their more or less bittersweet symphony of a home as Braeburn shed yet another tear, lost in his own thoughts but found to be in the process of walking up the stairs with Chargestone in tow, still unaware of what was going on within the former’s mind overall so to speak of.