The Runnersby HopeChaptersDuty callsScout dutyConfusionDuty callsThe sky is falling. Fire and ice dance through the air as my dark grey shield deflects a broken section of some great tree that has fallen victim to the conflict. My mane whips about regardless of how many shields I create, blinding me as I struggle to progress towards the eye of this deadly storm. My name is Fleeting Shadow. I am a runner for our princess and goddess Celestia. I am the first cog in the chain of command, and the thinnest string, but one that must hold against every attempt to be severed. A boulder the size of my ruler breaks itself upon my protection, shooting shards of pain across my mind, but I do not stop. The wind suddenly ceases and I stand in an oddly calm meadow with a circular wall of fire and ice surrounding it, Celestia hovers near my side, surrounded in blinding light as Nightmare Moon hides in the shadows on the opposite side of the field. Nightmare cannot see me; it is my curse, my talent, and my Mark all in one. I am unseen by anypony that I do not come in contact with. An accident while learning to use magic, and a surge of lunar energy that left me spiteful of the moon and trapped in a nightmare all at once. But special talents are always useful for something. I wait until she subtly commands me to approach, and my hidden scroll is taken in her magic. After being shielded by her spells, this secret scroll is replaced in my grip with another and I turn away. Outside these walls of magical battle, a war is raging. Orders must be made, commands delivered. Once more into the breech dear Fleet, once more onto victory. After the battle has faded into the night, I sit atop a crate in the middle of camp, watching the others move from tent to tent. They laugh and eat and talk of victory in the name of the sun, while I sit in the cold. One trots past my perch and I reach out a hoof towards them, for a moment I want to simply touch their mane, and beg to be acknowledged. “I exist.” I whisper. “Excuse me?” The passer by turns, looking through me and scanning the surroundings. “Is somepony there?” I do not speak, and soon they leave. Long ago, I stopped hiding my tears, they are as invisible as I am. Celestia returns to camp and with her comes the great defensive barrier overhead. I make my way, unseen and mostly unheard, to her tent. I enter a moment before she arrives, and sit next to her table. She and her generals enter. Celestia and one other can see me, and they nod towards me with the slightest motion, but it warms my heart to know that they can see me, they know I exist. My spot is left empty as they fill in the large circular table, and I take it up a moment later, knocking on the wooden surface once. The two that cannot see me jump but quickly bow towards me. “This meeting is called to order.” Celestia says as her magic seals the tent against all but the most powerful but most blatant forms of penetration. “Report.” she demands. The lowest ranking general, Flamebreak Hooves, starts off. He is an earth pony who has a golden coat with darker points and brown eyes, and he seems very nervous. “As instructed, we have kept casualties to a minimum by mostly holding our line and only making pushes forward when critical or in relative safety. We lost three soldiers today and one of our healers.” He bows his head and the rest of us join the motion. Every life is sacred, Celestia teaches us. Even the lives of our enemies should be cherished and taken only in extreme situations or when no other alternative is available. “However. The enemy did not expect our use of the poison joke plant en masse, and by concentrating it, we were able to render most of the northern area safe for passage of equipment and troops until the enemy has regrouped.” I smile, although it goes unnoticed. After a particularly cruel incident with poison joke, during which I was not only visible but everypony within eyesight would stop and stare at me, I recommended its use as a biological weapon. Apparently, most ponies trained and raised in war are affected by it in the same manner. They either run and hide in fear or forget how to use their weapons until cured. Of course Celestia had taken the credit for it since I was literally seen as a spirit of warriors past by all but ten or so souls in this camp. “Very good Flame. Thank you for your report.” Celestia turned then to her second general, Silver Tongue. A pegasus with a grey and blue coloration, she was the least colorful of the generals by far. I had never figured out if that was actually her name or if she was simply playing a joke on the entire world, but it fit her. “Well Princess, as you know, the gryphons are not eager to lose their homes and thus have sealed the border. I managed to have a chat with the emperor anyway. Despite being a bit surprised by my insistence and gifts, he did agree that eternal darkness was, by and large, a bad thing.” “So they are willing to stop any supply chains to the lunar army?” Silver nodded. “Providing, of course, that he receives more of the chocolate that I may or may not have laced with something a bit more addictive than coco has any right to be.” Her smile made me shiver. Silver was ruthless when she wanted something, and she wanted to please Celestia more than anything else. Celestia chuckled. “Start weaning him off it, we don't want a drug fueled dictator to deal with after this is all over.” A dark silence fell over the table for a moment at the mention of the hopeful end of the war. We all knew what this would mean to Celestia. She only had two options available to her, to kill her sister, or to attempt to use a nearly unknown magical artifact on her in hopes that it would not do worse. I knocked on the table again, shaking them out of the contemplation. “Ah, yes.” General Dread Dawn sat up a bit straighter. He was an earth pony as well, but with a bright red coat and shimmering, golden mane that was cropped short. He had a lean, calculating look in his eye and preferred to convince an enemy they had already lost than actually fight. A stallion of few words, he passed out scrolls to the others, and laid one in front of me, open. It outlined the current battlefield layout and troop movements as well as supply lines, medic positions, and a large circle in the center where the sisters raged at eachother each day. “Tomorrow, the battle must move southeast to gain the advantage.” he said simply, gesturing to markings showing terrain changes and cloud cover would be much easier to take advantage of there. “Princess, if you move your fight gradually the rest will follow.” “If the Shadow wishes it,” he looked to me, and I smiled a little as he met my gaze, asking my permission as though I had a choice, how quaint. “Scouting that land would give us a great advantage as we may use traps or wildlife to fight for us.” That was the entirety of his presentation. I knocked twice to show my agreement and Celestia nodded. “Very well. In celebration, let us drink.” As was customary, goblets of fine wine were poured and I left mine until the three generals had left, then I grabbed it and downed it quickly with a grimace on my face. Celestia poured me another and it vanished just as quickly. “I am sorry for your pain, Fleeting.” she says gently. I cannot hold back the tears as I collapse and the princess pulls me into an embrace. I am a wreck, as pathetic as they come. I could have anything in Equestria simply by asking for it and yet all I want is to abandon my very talent. After several minutes I am released and I get up to go. “Fleeting... would you like to sleep in the spare cot tonight? It will be cold outside, with my sister’s magic bombarding us.” I hesitate but nod, laying down and immediately embracing the dreamless sleep that awaits me. Scout dutyWhen I awake, the princess has left to begin the fight. My orders sit in a satchel in the corner, and I commit them to memory before burning them in the flame of a candle. I stretch my legs and make my way out of the camp. My one great weakness is I can carry no supplies with me. If I am carrying something small like a scroll, I must keep it in my magic at all times or it becomes visible. I've always wondered what it must be like to not see me, am I a ripple in the air? Am I a missed sight on the edge of a pony’s vision? I hope I never know. The orders had outlined the planned battleground and the landmarks we hoped to use to our advantage. As I make my way southeast of the current battleground, the sounds of war fade. This nearly peaceful land is covered in low shrubs and wild grasses, the greenery interrupted occasionally by rocky outcroppings and trees. This is the sort of land I grew up in, a rural part of Canterlot at the base of the mountain. I curse the day I ascended to the gilded towers above, sealing my fate. My reverie ends as I reach the boundary of the land we seek to use, marked by a tree split in two by lightning. I begin looking over the place, it is a wide swath of land in between a mountain ridge and the current battlefield, made all the more promising by its natural pitfalls to the west, which is where we hoped to push the Nightmare and her troops. I check over the barely visible sinkholes, making sure that none of them have easy escape routes or vines hanging down. As I look over the place, I start to hear noises approach from the northwest, likely Nightmare’s troops, taking advantage of our tight formation to sneak around towards Canterlot. I make my way towards them, careful to keep to the grass where my hoofsteps are muffled. The group looks like they have seen better days, two unicorns and a pegasus in full regalia, marching blindly across the landscape towards the capital. They look right through me as they pass, I can see the sweat on their brow I am so close. “Iris, I have to stop. Please let me rest.” one of the unicorns begs the flying equine. The pegasus doesn’t reply, she just keeps marching her group east. I start to follow them. “Iris, please. What has gotten into you?” The tan unicorn grabbed at Iris’ tail with her teeth and in a flash she is on the ground, a wingblade at her neck. “We must follow orders.” the flier growls. I get close enough to see the panic in the unicorn’s purple eyes, and the dead unfeeling mind control in the pegasus’ green ones. “Iris please...” “We do not have time to rest. When we have taken the capital, we can rest.” Iris released her companion and stood, beginning her march once again. The two unicorns don’t move, watching her walk. My curse is, if I talk to them or help them, they will have to die to preserve the princess’ secret. I am a secret that can end lives by simply being brushed up against. A few lucky souls have been sent to the vaults below Canterlot until the war is over, but these are enemy soldiers. Celestia is merciful, but not stupid. I don’t have to intervene though, as the pegasus plunges through one of the sinkholes, taken by surprise too quickly to open her wings in time. A brittle snap echoes through the still autumn air. Shortly afterwards, screams and sobs begin to echo up from the hole in the ground. “M...Maria? Shade? Where are you? Where am I?” Mind control cannot survive past trauma to the body, unfortunately. Freedom comes at a heavy price, in this case it is assuredly mind wrenching pain. The two unicorns move to the edge of the hole and I watch for the better part of an hour as they calm their friend down and slowly levitate her out of the hole. “We should defect. If the Nightmare was willing to send us on a death march, I... I don't think I can do this anymore. Not even if they have my dad.” Iris sobs. They all agree and begin stripping their armor, preparing to go to our camp and surrender. This is what war does to ponies. It tears them apart and forces them to make decisions they never should have to make. I leave their side as they start splinting the pegasus’ leg, and continue my survey. The report I will give will outline the advantages of this place, and I will have to send a group to intercept and capture these defectors. I can’t imagine what it must be like to work for such an evil creature. Nightmare Moon has brought evil to this world, the like of which has not been seen for countless years. I wander a bit further to the west and spot something in the distance that shimmers and draws my eye. My meandering course takes me slowly towards the shine and soon I am able to make it out as a dragon. He is young, as dragons go, and decked out in armor. A scout, I would guess. He is shuffling through a sheaf of papers that seem to be his orders with the same lack of enthusiasm I watch with. I move a bit closer to get a better look at what he is reading. His orders are to deliver something to a contact outside of Canterlot after ensuring all three of those I had recently passed meet their end. He has set his spear down next to him as he looks over his papers. He seems to be trying to figure out how he is supposed to kill 3 armed soldiers. Younger dragons are sticklers for detail and hate vague or incomplete orders, so they look for clarification on everything. His spear vanishes from his sight. He doesn’t move but looks down at where it was. I am lifting it slowly in my magic, high above his head. My eyes fill with tears as I prepare to do what I know must be done. The sound of snapping bone breaks the silence as the spear punctures his skull, and the dragon is no more. I gather everything of importance and depart, washing my hooves of another death that I can attribute to the evil of Nightmare Moon. ConfusionThe princess returns to her tent that night to find me sprawled across its luxurious carpet, several empty bottles of unicorn brewed wine scattered around me, the bloody spear laying nearby. staining the threads of the bag that it’s owner had once carried, as I babble incoherently about dragons and regret. I don’t kill often, and when I do there is no fellow soldier to tell about it, no family to fall back on. I have never killed so brutally before. It has always been in self defense. Ash smeared across her coat gives the princess of the sun a dusky complexion, and one of her shoes is missing, and the hoof scorched by hellfire. The crown of her position shines though, and I see it momentarily as some kind of salvation, despite the horror I feel as though I am drowning in. She doesn’t console me, she is too tired from her own daily battle to do so. I barely register the heavy sound of her body impacting her bed. We remain mostly silent, beside my mumbled apologies to a creature I will never know. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be difficult.” She says, with the weight of knowledge heavy and dark. A blanket floats over and covers me, as my mumbles become whispers, then silence. I still lay awake. “Will you bury me... When I die?” I ask her, voice pitiful and reedy like a foal. “I shall. You will be afforded all the honor that is within my power to give.” She looks over to me, her eyes cold and dead like burned out stars. “Tell them I loved them,” I plead, and she nods, before turning away and letting her sister’s darkness take us to sleep. I wake to the sound of screams, and I am running. I realize a moment later that I have just jumped from the tent that I have been asleep in, as my half conscious mind strains to comprehend my surroundings. The bat winged demons of the night swoop down in the morning twilight, bottles of some volotile brew dropping like fallen stars from their clutches, setting tents aflame, scouring our camp in blue and red firelight. I come to rest just outside of the densest section of camp, panting, looking for the princess before shielding my eyes from a blinding flash. Celestia rises from the clearing in front of her tent, and begins tossing crackling sunbeams across the sky, ripping the thestrals apart and tossing some to the ground to be captured or put down by the soldiers pouring from their sleeping quarters. The bloodshed is nearly too much for me, and I back away in horror, into a tent I hadn’t noticed, flail and regain my hoofing. Sprinting, the retreat to the more sturdy structures on the far side of camp is only a minor reprieve, as I cannot enter the shelters and risk being caught in a crowd, Seen by too many. The only secret worth anything is a secret well kept. My shelter is a small earthen hollow against the stone wall of one building, and I drift off to sleep in it, as the sounds of fighting continue, my body too weary to observe it, my mind too addled to care. I wake to the brush of a hoof across my cheek, and open my eyes to see the bright red coat of General Dawn. He is smiling down to me, with a sadness I feel guilty for. “Wake, my little pony. Another sunrise has found us.” I feel a heat on my cheeks that is unrelated to the sunlight streaming down, and I stand, crawling from the burrow and looking around. The area is clear, no ponies to overhear or to wonder why the General is speaking to thin air. “The princess was worried about you, Fee. Are you okay?” The concern in the voice of the general would seem out of place to most, but I know better. He is more kind than his enemies or subordinates would suspect. Just another stallion doing his job for the good of all ponies. I bow my head, and step a bit closer, unsure of myself even when I am with someone who I can trust, who can See me. “I had to kill a dragon scout, Drea... It was so loud, so...” His embrace is sudden, and the heat from his coat is radiant, warming me through as I sag in his grip, the quiet half-gasps and sobs shaking me, shivering as though I could still be cold in his protective arms. He lets me cry, and eventually I find my voice again. He speaks first though, as I stammer over apologies. “Every soldier feels pain, grief when they kill. How could they not? How could they see such things and heartlessly go on with their lives? Those ponies aren’t soldiers. Those are monsters. You are a good pony. You did what you had to do, and you saved three lives in the process. Cry all you need, I will guard you as I would any of my troop.” I can’t find the words. Rather I find thoughts unbidden, jealousy that he does this for everypony, guilt for that flare of greed, and a new appreciation for the innumerable other ponies who have been forced by circumstance to do far worse, and stayed loyal to the cause. “I don’t want to be alone,” I blurt out, still clinging to him, and I feel him stiffen, and loosen his grip. “Fleeting... That is a different thing than comforting a soldier. You are not alone, the princess and I care for you, but... I am a general, there are boundaries I must uphold...” “Of course, right...” I mumble as I withdraw from him, looking at the ground instead of his conflicted expression. “I will see you at the meeting, tonight,” I say, and I dash away, leaving the confused stallion to his own thoughts, as I flee from mine.
Duty callsThe sky is falling. Fire and ice dance through the air as my dark grey shield deflects a broken section of some great tree that has fallen victim to the conflict. My mane whips about regardless of how many shields I create, blinding me as I struggle to progress towards the eye of this deadly storm. My name is Fleeting Shadow. I am a runner for our princess and goddess Celestia. I am the first cog in the chain of command, and the thinnest string, but one that must hold against every attempt to be severed. A boulder the size of my ruler breaks itself upon my protection, shooting shards of pain across my mind, but I do not stop. The wind suddenly ceases and I stand in an oddly calm meadow with a circular wall of fire and ice surrounding it, Celestia hovers near my side, surrounded in blinding light as Nightmare Moon hides in the shadows on the opposite side of the field. Nightmare cannot see me; it is my curse, my talent, and my Mark all in one. I am unseen by anypony that I do not come in contact with. An accident while learning to use magic, and a surge of lunar energy that left me spiteful of the moon and trapped in a nightmare all at once. But special talents are always useful for something. I wait until she subtly commands me to approach, and my hidden scroll is taken in her magic. After being shielded by her spells, this secret scroll is replaced in my grip with another and I turn away. Outside these walls of magical battle, a war is raging. Orders must be made, commands delivered. Once more into the breech dear Fleet, once more onto victory. After the battle has faded into the night, I sit atop a crate in the middle of camp, watching the others move from tent to tent. They laugh and eat and talk of victory in the name of the sun, while I sit in the cold. One trots past my perch and I reach out a hoof towards them, for a moment I want to simply touch their mane, and beg to be acknowledged. “I exist.” I whisper. “Excuse me?” The passer by turns, looking through me and scanning the surroundings. “Is somepony there?” I do not speak, and soon they leave. Long ago, I stopped hiding my tears, they are as invisible as I am. Celestia returns to camp and with her comes the great defensive barrier overhead. I make my way, unseen and mostly unheard, to her tent. I enter a moment before she arrives, and sit next to her table. She and her generals enter. Celestia and one other can see me, and they nod towards me with the slightest motion, but it warms my heart to know that they can see me, they know I exist. My spot is left empty as they fill in the large circular table, and I take it up a moment later, knocking on the wooden surface once. The two that cannot see me jump but quickly bow towards me. “This meeting is called to order.” Celestia says as her magic seals the tent against all but the most powerful but most blatant forms of penetration. “Report.” she demands. The lowest ranking general, Flamebreak Hooves, starts off. He is an earth pony who has a golden coat with darker points and brown eyes, and he seems very nervous. “As instructed, we have kept casualties to a minimum by mostly holding our line and only making pushes forward when critical or in relative safety. We lost three soldiers today and one of our healers.” He bows his head and the rest of us join the motion. Every life is sacred, Celestia teaches us. Even the lives of our enemies should be cherished and taken only in extreme situations or when no other alternative is available. “However. The enemy did not expect our use of the poison joke plant en masse, and by concentrating it, we were able to render most of the northern area safe for passage of equipment and troops until the enemy has regrouped.” I smile, although it goes unnoticed. After a particularly cruel incident with poison joke, during which I was not only visible but everypony within eyesight would stop and stare at me, I recommended its use as a biological weapon. Apparently, most ponies trained and raised in war are affected by it in the same manner. They either run and hide in fear or forget how to use their weapons until cured. Of course Celestia had taken the credit for it since I was literally seen as a spirit of warriors past by all but ten or so souls in this camp. “Very good Flame. Thank you for your report.” Celestia turned then to her second general, Silver Tongue. A pegasus with a grey and blue coloration, she was the least colorful of the generals by far. I had never figured out if that was actually her name or if she was simply playing a joke on the entire world, but it fit her. “Well Princess, as you know, the gryphons are not eager to lose their homes and thus have sealed the border. I managed to have a chat with the emperor anyway. Despite being a bit surprised by my insistence and gifts, he did agree that eternal darkness was, by and large, a bad thing.” “So they are willing to stop any supply chains to the lunar army?” Silver nodded. “Providing, of course, that he receives more of the chocolate that I may or may not have laced with something a bit more addictive than coco has any right to be.” Her smile made me shiver. Silver was ruthless when she wanted something, and she wanted to please Celestia more than anything else. Celestia chuckled. “Start weaning him off it, we don't want a drug fueled dictator to deal with after this is all over.” A dark silence fell over the table for a moment at the mention of the hopeful end of the war. We all knew what this would mean to Celestia. She only had two options available to her, to kill her sister, or to attempt to use a nearly unknown magical artifact on her in hopes that it would not do worse. I knocked on the table again, shaking them out of the contemplation. “Ah, yes.” General Dread Dawn sat up a bit straighter. He was an earth pony as well, but with a bright red coat and shimmering, golden mane that was cropped short. He had a lean, calculating look in his eye and preferred to convince an enemy they had already lost than actually fight. A stallion of few words, he passed out scrolls to the others, and laid one in front of me, open. It outlined the current battlefield layout and troop movements as well as supply lines, medic positions, and a large circle in the center where the sisters raged at eachother each day. “Tomorrow, the battle must move southeast to gain the advantage.” he said simply, gesturing to markings showing terrain changes and cloud cover would be much easier to take advantage of there. “Princess, if you move your fight gradually the rest will follow.” “If the Shadow wishes it,” he looked to me, and I smiled a little as he met my gaze, asking my permission as though I had a choice, how quaint. “Scouting that land would give us a great advantage as we may use traps or wildlife to fight for us.” That was the entirety of his presentation. I knocked twice to show my agreement and Celestia nodded. “Very well. In celebration, let us drink.” As was customary, goblets of fine wine were poured and I left mine until the three generals had left, then I grabbed it and downed it quickly with a grimace on my face. Celestia poured me another and it vanished just as quickly. “I am sorry for your pain, Fleeting.” she says gently. I cannot hold back the tears as I collapse and the princess pulls me into an embrace. I am a wreck, as pathetic as they come. I could have anything in Equestria simply by asking for it and yet all I want is to abandon my very talent. After several minutes I am released and I get up to go. “Fleeting... would you like to sleep in the spare cot tonight? It will be cold outside, with my sister’s magic bombarding us.” I hesitate but nod, laying down and immediately embracing the dreamless sleep that awaits me.
Scout dutyWhen I awake, the princess has left to begin the fight. My orders sit in a satchel in the corner, and I commit them to memory before burning them in the flame of a candle. I stretch my legs and make my way out of the camp. My one great weakness is I can carry no supplies with me. If I am carrying something small like a scroll, I must keep it in my magic at all times or it becomes visible. I've always wondered what it must be like to not see me, am I a ripple in the air? Am I a missed sight on the edge of a pony’s vision? I hope I never know. The orders had outlined the planned battleground and the landmarks we hoped to use to our advantage. As I make my way southeast of the current battleground, the sounds of war fade. This nearly peaceful land is covered in low shrubs and wild grasses, the greenery interrupted occasionally by rocky outcroppings and trees. This is the sort of land I grew up in, a rural part of Canterlot at the base of the mountain. I curse the day I ascended to the gilded towers above, sealing my fate. My reverie ends as I reach the boundary of the land we seek to use, marked by a tree split in two by lightning. I begin looking over the place, it is a wide swath of land in between a mountain ridge and the current battlefield, made all the more promising by its natural pitfalls to the west, which is where we hoped to push the Nightmare and her troops. I check over the barely visible sinkholes, making sure that none of them have easy escape routes or vines hanging down. As I look over the place, I start to hear noises approach from the northwest, likely Nightmare’s troops, taking advantage of our tight formation to sneak around towards Canterlot. I make my way towards them, careful to keep to the grass where my hoofsteps are muffled. The group looks like they have seen better days, two unicorns and a pegasus in full regalia, marching blindly across the landscape towards the capital. They look right through me as they pass, I can see the sweat on their brow I am so close. “Iris, I have to stop. Please let me rest.” one of the unicorns begs the flying equine. The pegasus doesn’t reply, she just keeps marching her group east. I start to follow them. “Iris, please. What has gotten into you?” The tan unicorn grabbed at Iris’ tail with her teeth and in a flash she is on the ground, a wingblade at her neck. “We must follow orders.” the flier growls. I get close enough to see the panic in the unicorn’s purple eyes, and the dead unfeeling mind control in the pegasus’ green ones. “Iris please...” “We do not have time to rest. When we have taken the capital, we can rest.” Iris released her companion and stood, beginning her march once again. The two unicorns don’t move, watching her walk. My curse is, if I talk to them or help them, they will have to die to preserve the princess’ secret. I am a secret that can end lives by simply being brushed up against. A few lucky souls have been sent to the vaults below Canterlot until the war is over, but these are enemy soldiers. Celestia is merciful, but not stupid. I don’t have to intervene though, as the pegasus plunges through one of the sinkholes, taken by surprise too quickly to open her wings in time. A brittle snap echoes through the still autumn air. Shortly afterwards, screams and sobs begin to echo up from the hole in the ground. “M...Maria? Shade? Where are you? Where am I?” Mind control cannot survive past trauma to the body, unfortunately. Freedom comes at a heavy price, in this case it is assuredly mind wrenching pain. The two unicorns move to the edge of the hole and I watch for the better part of an hour as they calm their friend down and slowly levitate her out of the hole. “We should defect. If the Nightmare was willing to send us on a death march, I... I don't think I can do this anymore. Not even if they have my dad.” Iris sobs. They all agree and begin stripping their armor, preparing to go to our camp and surrender. This is what war does to ponies. It tears them apart and forces them to make decisions they never should have to make. I leave their side as they start splinting the pegasus’ leg, and continue my survey. The report I will give will outline the advantages of this place, and I will have to send a group to intercept and capture these defectors. I can’t imagine what it must be like to work for such an evil creature. Nightmare Moon has brought evil to this world, the like of which has not been seen for countless years. I wander a bit further to the west and spot something in the distance that shimmers and draws my eye. My meandering course takes me slowly towards the shine and soon I am able to make it out as a dragon. He is young, as dragons go, and decked out in armor. A scout, I would guess. He is shuffling through a sheaf of papers that seem to be his orders with the same lack of enthusiasm I watch with. I move a bit closer to get a better look at what he is reading. His orders are to deliver something to a contact outside of Canterlot after ensuring all three of those I had recently passed meet their end. He has set his spear down next to him as he looks over his papers. He seems to be trying to figure out how he is supposed to kill 3 armed soldiers. Younger dragons are sticklers for detail and hate vague or incomplete orders, so they look for clarification on everything. His spear vanishes from his sight. He doesn’t move but looks down at where it was. I am lifting it slowly in my magic, high above his head. My eyes fill with tears as I prepare to do what I know must be done. The sound of snapping bone breaks the silence as the spear punctures his skull, and the dragon is no more. I gather everything of importance and depart, washing my hooves of another death that I can attribute to the evil of Nightmare Moon.
ConfusionThe princess returns to her tent that night to find me sprawled across its luxurious carpet, several empty bottles of unicorn brewed wine scattered around me, the bloody spear laying nearby. staining the threads of the bag that it’s owner had once carried, as I babble incoherently about dragons and regret. I don’t kill often, and when I do there is no fellow soldier to tell about it, no family to fall back on. I have never killed so brutally before. It has always been in self defense. Ash smeared across her coat gives the princess of the sun a dusky complexion, and one of her shoes is missing, and the hoof scorched by hellfire. The crown of her position shines though, and I see it momentarily as some kind of salvation, despite the horror I feel as though I am drowning in. She doesn’t console me, she is too tired from her own daily battle to do so. I barely register the heavy sound of her body impacting her bed. We remain mostly silent, beside my mumbled apologies to a creature I will never know. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be difficult.” She says, with the weight of knowledge heavy and dark. A blanket floats over and covers me, as my mumbles become whispers, then silence. I still lay awake. “Will you bury me... When I die?” I ask her, voice pitiful and reedy like a foal. “I shall. You will be afforded all the honor that is within my power to give.” She looks over to me, her eyes cold and dead like burned out stars. “Tell them I loved them,” I plead, and she nods, before turning away and letting her sister’s darkness take us to sleep. I wake to the sound of screams, and I am running. I realize a moment later that I have just jumped from the tent that I have been asleep in, as my half conscious mind strains to comprehend my surroundings. The bat winged demons of the night swoop down in the morning twilight, bottles of some volotile brew dropping like fallen stars from their clutches, setting tents aflame, scouring our camp in blue and red firelight. I come to rest just outside of the densest section of camp, panting, looking for the princess before shielding my eyes from a blinding flash. Celestia rises from the clearing in front of her tent, and begins tossing crackling sunbeams across the sky, ripping the thestrals apart and tossing some to the ground to be captured or put down by the soldiers pouring from their sleeping quarters. The bloodshed is nearly too much for me, and I back away in horror, into a tent I hadn’t noticed, flail and regain my hoofing. Sprinting, the retreat to the more sturdy structures on the far side of camp is only a minor reprieve, as I cannot enter the shelters and risk being caught in a crowd, Seen by too many. The only secret worth anything is a secret well kept. My shelter is a small earthen hollow against the stone wall of one building, and I drift off to sleep in it, as the sounds of fighting continue, my body too weary to observe it, my mind too addled to care. I wake to the brush of a hoof across my cheek, and open my eyes to see the bright red coat of General Dawn. He is smiling down to me, with a sadness I feel guilty for. “Wake, my little pony. Another sunrise has found us.” I feel a heat on my cheeks that is unrelated to the sunlight streaming down, and I stand, crawling from the burrow and looking around. The area is clear, no ponies to overhear or to wonder why the General is speaking to thin air. “The princess was worried about you, Fee. Are you okay?” The concern in the voice of the general would seem out of place to most, but I know better. He is more kind than his enemies or subordinates would suspect. Just another stallion doing his job for the good of all ponies. I bow my head, and step a bit closer, unsure of myself even when I am with someone who I can trust, who can See me. “I had to kill a dragon scout, Drea... It was so loud, so...” His embrace is sudden, and the heat from his coat is radiant, warming me through as I sag in his grip, the quiet half-gasps and sobs shaking me, shivering as though I could still be cold in his protective arms. He lets me cry, and eventually I find my voice again. He speaks first though, as I stammer over apologies. “Every soldier feels pain, grief when they kill. How could they not? How could they see such things and heartlessly go on with their lives? Those ponies aren’t soldiers. Those are monsters. You are a good pony. You did what you had to do, and you saved three lives in the process. Cry all you need, I will guard you as I would any of my troop.” I can’t find the words. Rather I find thoughts unbidden, jealousy that he does this for everypony, guilt for that flare of greed, and a new appreciation for the innumerable other ponies who have been forced by circumstance to do far worse, and stayed loyal to the cause. “I don’t want to be alone,” I blurt out, still clinging to him, and I feel him stiffen, and loosen his grip. “Fleeting... That is a different thing than comforting a soldier. You are not alone, the princess and I care for you, but... I am a general, there are boundaries I must uphold...” “Of course, right...” I mumble as I withdraw from him, looking at the ground instead of his conflicted expression. “I will see you at the meeting, tonight,” I say, and I dash away, leaving the confused stallion to his own thoughts, as I flee from mine.
