Bathalar withdrew his blade from the chest of the unicorn captain in front of him. A barely visible slice in the chestplate of the stalwart captain’s armor seeped with blood. The captain’s brow furrowed as he glared at Bathalar. The light in his eyes drained as he projected his hateful gaze onto his killer. The captain's knees began to buckle, but he forced himself to remain standing.

“Let’s see how your battalion functions without its head.” Bathalar sneered at his fallen prey. His leathery black wings stretched to their fullest in the midnight moonlight.

A flash drew his attention to the Canterlot royal palace. The ancient towers and spires of the castle pierced the sky with their majesty, as a rainbow prism of light shot out towards the moon. He couldn’t see anything except the light, but he heard his Princess’s cry and knew who was at the receiving end of the blast. It was his queen, his beloved, his bride to be. He watched in horror as the rainbow lights burst in the sky like fireworks. As the magic energy subsided, he saw no sign of Luna anywhere in the night sky.

Then the light of the moon turned.

The full moon that had shown brightly before, illuminating their battlefield, now held a shadow on its right side. The spotted image of the shadow looked like a mare cast into the moon’s surface itself. Immediately, he knew it was her. His beloved was banished to the moon, unable to return. She was almost certainly not dead, but in that moment he knew she may as well be. Whatever powerful magic had been cast on his noble Princess of the night, would not be so easily reversed.

The wounded Captain, unable to stand anymore, fell to his knees. He coughed up blood as he cackled at Bathalar.

“Let’s see how your army functions without its Princess.” His smug muzzle grimaced with delight.

“Can’t you die faster?” Bathalar spat back at the captain, refusing to take his eyes off of Luna.

“At least I get to die satisfied. Can you say the same, General?” The captain asked. His breaths shortened, and his strength decayed. “Long live Princess Celestia!”

Bathalar turned to retort the unruly captain, but saw that the light had left his eyes. Even with his smile still present on his face, the captain finally laid still in his final resting place there on the battlefield.

The Captain’s battalion that Bathalar had spoken of surrounded him in the Canterlot Gardens where he engaged their last surviving commander. He had systematically slaughtered every high ranking officer he could get his hooves and blade onto.

Bathalar gripped his sword as lightning cracked from his hooves, encompassing his whole body. The battalion flanked him on all sides. Pegasi warriors flew in the skies above him, cutting off his retreat.

However, Bathalar had no interest in retreating. He screamed with all the fury he could muster. The image of his beloved Princess filled his mind as blind rage took hold of him. He remembered the night he first met her. A young lieutenant patrol bat, bowing ungracefully to the night Princess. Her growing interest in him as he rose up the ranks, always looking to please her with his service. The day he was assigned as her personal guard, and how unprofessionally close she allowed herself to get to him. The first time they kissed under the pale moonlight of her beautiful evening domain. The vow they made to love no other. The night she told him of her plans to overthrow her sister: Princess Celestia. How he cautioned her against such rash action, but she ordered him to go along anyway. How he replied that she needn't order him to do anything, that he would follow her into Tartarus if she only asked.

She was gone.

A grease spot on her own sacred moon. An ironic gravestone of everything she adored. He prayed that she would continue to enjoy the moon, as it would be her only home for many, many centuries to come.

Bathalar’s lightning jettisoned from his hooves. He sent his destruction undiscerningly in all directions. The ponies of the battalion that surrounded him had the misfortune of being swept up into his wrath. Those who managed not to become charred lumps of their former selves packed neatly in their smoking armor, rushed after the vengeful General. Bathalar raised his bloody sword and engaged them. Lightning hurling, sword slashing, he burnt and cut down many of Celestia’s finest soldiers.

Yet his own army was fleeing. Their Princess, effectively dead. Their General surrounded with no hope of relief. Bathalar wished to end it here on the battlefield. To give his life in service of his Princess. His final act of taking out as many of her enemies as he could by his own hooves and magic. Mercifully, Celestia’s army eventually overwhelmed him, and his eyes closed. The battle was over.

Unmercifully, he awoke to find himself bound in chains. He had been denied his right to die on the battlefield. Some cruel officer or commander has seen that he was taken alive. Iron shackles bound his hooves and neck to the floor. His armor and weapons were nowhere to be seen. His lightning refused to surface though he vehemently called upon it. The shackles were no doubt enchanted with a magic inhibiting spell. He was powerless. His Princess was defeated; the love of his life lost. His army was dead or scattered.

His prison cell was barely two meters wide and deep. The concrete roof over his head was low enough to be claustrophobic. There were no windows and the only exit was in front of him where thick iron bars locked him inside. He was seated on a stone plate that his chains and shackles were cast in. He barely had enough slack to stand up. As he rose to his feet, he noticed he couldn't lift his head all the way up. The short chain pulled the brace around his neck forcing his head into a half bowed position. Rather this was oversight or intentional, he didn’t know. He just hated that no matter who appeared in front of him as his jailer, he would have to either bow or lay prostrate before them.

The chamber doors creaked open. Bathalar couldn’t see anypony yet, but he heard the door whine on its hinges. He heard the slow and deliberate steps of somepony descending a flight of stairs. His jailer spoke no words of greeting, introduction, or warning as he made his way towards the prison cell. Bathalar had been prepared to face death, however, the almost lethargic movement of this captor left him anxious. From what he could tell, there was only one pony approaching.

Bathalar heard an all too familiar sound for him personally. Light flickered off of the stone walls. A low hum and crackling sound could be heard, but his jailer still had not shown himself. Bathalar recognized the sound of electricity. He had been able to summon his lightning powers since he was a small child. This cursed skill is what destined him, or perhaps doomed him, to his rise in the military to begin with.

A wide unicorn rounded to the front of the cell where Bathalar waited. His armor glowing in the flickering white and blue light of lightning itself. He held a staff that extended twice the height of a normal pony that forked at the end into two metal prongs. Electricity buzzed and cracked, mostly at the prongs, but also all up and down the staff itself. The bulky, bordering on fat unicorn looked down at the naked and helpless General with a sinful grin.

“You know what this is?” The unicorn brandished his teeth as his gravelly voice spoke.

“Lightning magic.” Bathalar replied.

“It’s a taste of your own medicine.” The unicorn’s pleasure shifted to anger. The door to the tiny cell ripped open. The iron bars slammed against each other making a horrendous sound for a brief moment. The guard let himself into the room as the lightning rod intensified. The sound of the buzzing electricity growing louder.

“Would you like to know what all those soldiers you burnt to a crisp on the battlefield felt like?” The unicorn drew back the rod, pointing it towards Bathalar.

Bathalar knew what was coming but refused to move away from the inevitable. He didn’t want this guard to have the satisfaction of him squirming and reeling from the rod’s touch. The prongs embedded themselves into the fur of Bathalar’s left rib cage. He shrieked so loudly it rattled his own ear drums. The lightning rippled through his body, but not like the powers he summoned himself. This time he felt the heat, and he experienced the pure voltage. Still screaming, he convulsed with the current being ripped into him. The searing pain was unbearable and hot like the fires of Tartarus. Just as he was running out of breath to scream with, the prongs were finally pulled away.

Bathalar’s breathing was deep and labored. He groaned with every exhale. He scrambled to keep himself on his hooves, not sure that laying down would help him in any way.

“Would you like another?” The guard grinned again as he asked. The pleasure of seeing Luna’s General shiver and moan in pain was painted all over his expression. “If you ask me nicely, I may not do it a second time.”

“If you ask me nicely, I may kill you quickly when I leave this dungeon.” Bathalar glared at the unicorn as the staff went back into his side.

The lightning glowed and rose up to the ceiling. It was miserably painful, but it clearly wasn’t designed to kill him. Though Bathalar could not control his body convulsing, the constant muscle tension and stimulation from the electricity fatigued him. He dropped to his knees and braced himself on the cold stone slab he was attached to. The guard withdrew the staff once more.

“Beg me, murderer!” The unicorn shouted out of control. “Beg me to stop, beg me to…”

Bathalar interrupted him.

“Your mother begged me for more, but I’m only one stallion. My stamina has lim-” He was interrupted by the rod again. His body jumped to the right and was caught by the chains which tore against his hooves and neck. His voice became sore from screaming so much.

“You bastard!” The unicorn held the staff in Bathalar’s stomach much longer this time. “I’m going to kill you and make it look like an accident. The Princess wants you alive, but if you can’t even survive the staff, that’s not my problem.” He pressed the staff even harder into the prisoner. Bathalar could feel his consciousness slipping away. His vision was going white.

“That’s quite enough, commander.” A booming royal voice called from the hallway. Bathalar instantly recognized the timber of Princess Celestia. The commander pulled the rod away from Bathalar whose face collapsed onto the slab. He backed out of the cell and stood at attention before the Princess. The staff in his free hoof still exuded electricity but much quieter and subdued now.

“Princess! I, uh… I was just interrogating the prisoner.” He reported in a loud and inelegant fashion.

The Princess appeared in front of Bathalar’s cell flanked by two pegasi guards in fancier armor than the commander. The pegasi warriors were slimmer and taller than the commander was.

“Oh you were interrogating him?” Celestia said. The sweet excitement in her tone terrified the unwitting commander. “Praytell, what information have you gathered from the General?” Celestia stood smiling and waiting. She was by far the tallest pony in the room. Her flowing translucent mane sparkled, accented by her golden shoes and bejeweled crown. Her snow white fur was so bright, it was like staring into the sun itself.

“I was uh… you see…” The commander began.

“What did you even ask him?” Celestia appeared genuinely curious. Her delivery was earnest, but also dripping with sarcasm.

“I asked him…” The Commander searched his mind for something suitable to claim.

“He asked me what I had for lunch. I told him I hadn’t even received a menu yet. The service here is piss poor.” Bathalar blurted from the floor. He was still breathing heavily. At the sight of the Princess he decided to rise to his hooves again rather than be laid prostrate on the slab. He was slow to get up.

“I see.” Celestia glared at the Commander who was visibly sweating. “Clearly you have broken his spirit and he is ripe for talking. I’ll take it from here, Commander.”

The Commander hung his head in shame at his Princess's biting sarcasm. He retreated behind the pegasi guards. Celestia stepped forward, the door to the cell still opened.

“Bathalar Omegastar.” Celestia said his full name, the side of her mouth turned up in a grin. “Are you bowing to me?”

She noticed the chain pulling his head downward in his standing position.

“No.” He said as the side of his mouth curled into a mischievous grin. “I’m just waiting for you to turn and leave so I can ogle your ass on the way out.”

“How dare you speak to the Princess that way!” The Commander began walking forward with his electric rod once more. Even the stoic pegasi guards broke decorum to glare at Bathalar.

Celestia held up her hoof and the Commander stopped.

“Leave us.” She said while staring at Bathalar.

“Princess, the General is a dangerous…”

Celestia interrupted her Commander.

“The prisoner is in chains and I can handle myself. Now leave. All of you.” She raised her voice on the final point. Without a word, the two pegasi guards turned and marched up the stairs. The Commander lingered to glare at Bathalar one more time.

“Butcher.” He spat at Bathalar.

“Eater. Go on a diet.” Bathalar held Celestia’s gaze with his retort. The Commander disappeared from his sight. Celestia waited until the noisy door at the top of the stairs was finally shut before speaking again.

“What am I going to do with you?” Celestia shook her head.

“You want my opinion?” Bathalar looked surprised.

“My military advisors, my political pundits, and the senate are all in agreement.” She sighed.

“Agreement on what?”

“They want you executed, publicly.”

A moment of silence lingered between them.

“Then get on with it.” Bathalar spat on the ground. Half out of crass disrespect and half because of the drool built up in his mouth from screaming and panting.

“I am weary of bloodshed, Bathalar.” Celestia’s eyes looked tired.

“Then let somepony else do it, and attend a play instead.” He joked before continuing more heated. “You’re sick of bloodshed? The tyrant claims she doesn’t want bloodshed, it’s almost humorous.”

She ignored his jests. “I have use of you alive.”

“I would never serve you.” He retorted, barely letting her finish her sentence.

“Never?” Celestia raised an eyebrow. "Never is a long time General.” She stared into his worn and faded eyes.

“How many centuries was your banishment spell for?” Bathalar changed the subject.

“Ten.” Celestia lowered her head. “1,000 years on the moon.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes.” Celestia’s tone was harsh, but her eyes were weak.

“Then why 1,000 years? Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

Celestia scoffed and knocked her head back.

“You think I chose a thousand years as the punishment? I gathered the Elements of Harmony as a last resort. I had no choice. You think I was able to set the sentence, like a kitchen timer? The spell is designed to be a permanent solution, that is why it was so long.”

Bathalar considered her words for a few moments.

“So you regret it because it’s too long then?” He finally asked.

“I would have done it for a single day if I could have. Let her calm down. Meet her somewhere remote and talk out a truce. Anything to avoid a war.” Celestia’s genuine gaze made Bathalar look away.

“The oppressor always talks about wanting peace. The oppressed are made out to be the wicked aggressor.” He pointed his head away from her. His neck was sore in the iron brace.

“I didn’t come here to talk politics with you.”

“Then send the torturer back down here.” Bathalar re-met her gaze. They glared at each other for a second.

“Why did you keep killing?” She asked, lowering her voice.

“It was war. War is killing.” He admitted.

“Luna was defeated. The battle was lost. The rest of your army surrendered right away but you…” sickening hatred filled her face. “You just kept slaughtering. As if you enjoyed it.”

“Just because a cause is lost, doesn’t mean it isn’t worth fighting for.” He matched the softness of her voice.

“I can offer you a good life. A comfortable life as my servant. Instead of these stone walls.” Celestia gestured around them.

“You want me to wash your hooves for the rest of my life?” He frowned at her.

“Nothing so demeaning. The services I have in mind are very specific, and play well into your skill set.” She mentioned as if describing an employee his job at orientation.

“I will never swear fealty to you.” He cursed at her. She simply smiled.

“Then don’t.”

Before he could respond, her magic glowed from her horn. The iron braces around his hooves and neck opened and fell to the floor. He stood up to his full height and rubbed his neck.

“I don’t understand.” He was relieved to be out of the shackles but also suspicious.

“You should be able to call on your lightning now.”

He knew that without her saying it. He could already feel it coursing through his veins.

“What are you doing?” He stared at her confused.

“Did you love her?” Celestia asked him.

“Of course I do.” His reply was almost a whisper.

“You would die for her?”

“I tried to.”

Celestia puffed her chest out.

“Then take your vengeance. Strike me down in the name of Luna. Kill your tyrant once and for all.” Her eyes pierced through him. Her offer was tempting. He wanted to kill her for what she did to his beloved. To her own sister. The lightning sparked and cracked at his hooves as adrenaline poured into his brain. She just watched him as the murderous intent flooded his face. His wings slowly expanded, not even able to reach their full span in this prison cell. He was ready to strike. The power built until it filled the room and charged the air around them - bouncing off the walls in little coils.

Celestia had a flickering moment of fear in her eyes before he powered down his lightning.

“I’m not a fool, Celestia.” He said calmly once more. “You’re not so easy to kill. And I don’t think you have a death wish.”

“I’ve still given you the ability to fight. You won’t take the opportunity? Even if there’s a chance you may succeed where Luna failed?”

Celestia’s expression was difficult to read. She looked dormant, neutral. There was no fire in her eyes or stiffness in her jaw. It was as if they were having a conversation about tax law or something. Whatever game she was playing, he decided that he didn’t want any part of it.

“I think…” Bathalar paused. Celestia was still unmoving. “You’re not the only one who is weary of bloodshed.”

“How magnanimous of you. I wish you had shown that restraint to my soldiers.” Her accusing eyes seared into him like the lightning rod.

“Equestria needs a Princess. If Luna is gone and you’re dead, then all ponies are leaderless and weak. Which is a fate worse than being led by a tyrant.” He sighed. The exhaustion setting in from battle and torture.

“You wouldn’t take power?” Celestia cocked her head as she asked.

“I am no King.”

“Just an executioner.” Celestia baited him.

Bathalar glared at her. “Is that what you want from me?”

She hummed softly, gesturing to the air. “Nopony can deny your skills, General. You have your uses.”

Celestia appraised the General for a few moments. Bathalar began to feel uncomfortable with her traveling stare up and down his physique.

“Plus you are reasonable, self aware, capable of following directions, you won’t swear fealty to me, but you won’t take your vengeance either.” She spoke her appraisal. “Are you sure you won’t serve me?” The corner of her mouth teased upward.

“How can you have an assassin who won’t pledge his loyalty?” Bathalar demanded.

“I won’t tell anypony.” Celestia’s devious grin shocked Bathalar.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It will be our little secret.” She winked at him.

“You’re mad. You unchain me, demand that I kill you, and insist on having a servant who may stab you in the back at any moment. A servant who has all the motivation in Equestria to do so.” Bathalar scoffed. “The Princess of Equestria is mad.” His accusation was more perplexed than viscous.

“You think about it and let me know your decision.” Celestia turned to walk away. Just before she walked out of sight, she looked at him one more time.

“One more thing. It actually doesn’t matter if you swear an oath to me or not.” Her expression darkened, filling Bathalar with dread. “Your race of bat ponies, your entire kind, are to be branded across their foreheads with a slave tattoo. For your participation in this treason, all bat ponies are now my servants. Whether you swear to me or not.”

As she finished revealing her judgment, her magic pushed Bathalar’s body down onto the stone slab. He was forced to lay on his belly as the braces re-latched to his hooves and neck. The door to the cell slammed closed and locked itself. Celestia disappeared up the stairs.

“I’ll never serve you, Tyrant!” Bathalar screamed at her. “I’d rather rot in prison for eternity!”

“Eternity is a long time, Bathalar. And I’m a patient mare.”

Bathalar heard the creaking door at the top of the stairs slam closed again as he cursed in his chains.

****

Author's Note

This story is inspired by Sarah J. Maas's novel Crescent City. I've been wanting to write a story involving Luna's Rebellion for awhile (or of the aftermath anyway) and this book gave me just the right nudge in that direction. I don't write a lot of Mature rated fics these days but this story and setting are better served with the adult tones.

Let me know what y'all think in the comments