The Sweet Softer Ground

by Cynewulf

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Shining Armor, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Princess Cadance, Dark, Sad
Length: 2313

Shining and Cadance are separated by distance and peril.

While Cadance waits for her husband's return from the field, she ponders her home in Henosis and foals. To the South, Shining holds out against monsters that prowl the borders of the Crystal Empire and regrets.

Published 2013-02-05 23:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-02-05 23:40:02 UTC

Shining Armor

Shining

These gods weren’t faking when they came down from the mountains.

Screaming, stallions under my command dying and screaming in the snow. Mares under my command. Ponies dead in the snow. It only lasted ten minutes.

The shield is up, but it’s not big enough. My magic is drained, a week in the snow has left me weary. My legs shake and complain beneath me, even as I struggle to keep my shield up. The Mitou outside beat against it with their fits and rake their claws along it. The magic is solid, like glass, and I can hear those claws grate along the outside like as if against a blackboard and I groan but I cannot cover my ears. If I cover my ears and cover my eyes they will die. We will all die, crushed and gone and forgotten. Cold in the snow forever, buried in the white.

But I can hold. I have always held. It’s what I do.

The fists beat upon the shield. The roaring will not stop; it goes on forever. The red eyes of two dozen Mitou stare into my own but I cannot flinch. I cannot cower though my legs want to give. I cannot cower or I will die. The mountain gods on two feet will not make Shining Armor bow.

So few remain. I brought one hundred ponies with me, most of them from the Empire. Crystal ponies. Unused, they, to the rigors of march and war but filled with heart.

One of them is crying; he’s a stallion, somewhere behind me. I cannot look at him. I don’t reprimand him. It is a perfectly acceptable response.

Blam! Blam! Blam!

My hooves are cold. My flanks are cold. The cold seeps in past the armor like a knife in the dark and stabs at my coat.

Oh Cadance, what will become of me?

Those fists are huge, covered in white fur. I watch them rise and fall against the barrier like that little toy Twilight has on her desk in Canterlot. Little balls, and you hit one and the one on the other end moves. Momentum.

Back and forth and back and forth.

They stand on two legs, but run on two. They speak, but we do not understand. They speak Equestrian and it is terrifying. Truly, they claimed to be gods and we all but believed them, for we cowered. Something in us in our hearts cowered and cowers still. I fear.

I open my mouth and pant, taking in some deep breaths before closing my mouth again. There is a regimen to maintaining a shield of this sort. A list.

Control your breathing

Your breathing will keep you calm

Your calm will keep your magic steady

It will keep you from moving

You should be still

Control your eyes

If they do not wonder you will not lose track of your breathing

Your will is fragile

Don’t be afraid

A mantra, maybe? I don’t know. The crying stallion has stopped, and I hear somepony talking to him. They’re shivering behind me. Fourteen of us, fourteen under the dome.

Statistics:

I started with one hundred ponies including myself.

I have lost eighty-six ponies.

My command has suffered exactly eighty-six percent casualty rates. Anypony unfit to fight is already dead, so it works out exactly.

A list as I stare right into the eye of a Mitou with only one of them, and know that I put out the other with a spear:

Marshy Shoals, pegasus, Scout, dead. Shot down.
Amethyst Eyes, crystal pony, Infantrypony Second Class, dead. Crushed.
Bright Eyes, unicorn, Medic, dead. Crushed.
Starry Night, unicorn, Support Spellcaster, dead. Beheaded.
Diamond Sky, crystal pony, Infantrypony Second Class, dead. Shredded.
Akero Apple, earth pony, InfantryPony First Class, dead. Friendly Fire.

The snow goes on forever. I look away from the eyes towards the tundra that stretches out in all directions. Of course I know it is not forever. Somewhere there are trees and cobblestone streets. Somewhere there is Canterlot and the valley, oh the valley, and somewhere there is the Empire. Somewhere there is Cadance.

Cadance, sweet Cadance, with her dark eyes. Purple, they remind me of quiet walks and long halls with the sun streaming in. Multi-hued mane that flows with grace, wings that end in purplish tips like they were dipped in the sun and burnt but I love them. Long legs, wonderful smile.

The Empire is that way, the border station five miles distant. It doesn’t take long outside the lines to find the Mitou, the stalking gods. Their guns are used up. More like cannons, ugly, huge things that get maybe two shots before they jam or break. Powerful, though. It’ll blow a pegasus away, already has today. Will again.

Oh Cadance, sweetest Cadance where will you go when the shield breaks? What will you say? Will you find me buried in the snow?

Once when it snowed, Cadance, Twilight and played in the streets of Canterlot. The old city’s streets are wide and clean, and the snow was pure and white and we were young. I remember how we ran and threw snowballs and I loved it. Snow was my favorite. Twilight caught cold but I was happy, and our mother let me bring her hot chocolate. And then I went back out and saw Her.

I breathe in, I breathe out, I sigh. I watch them circle as best I can. The ponies behind me say things.

“Your Majesty?”

“General out here. What?”

My words are curt; I waste only what breath I must.

“General, what’s going to happen?”

The voice... that will be Marble... something. The fact that her family name does not come to me angers me. Crystal pony, young, mare, Infantrypony Third Class, alive.

At the moment, nothing. “We’re going to get back home, eventually. For now, we hold out.”

Options. The constant assault is no longer constant. Not surprising. In war nothing is constant. Now they circle us, and I cannot see any of them. They know now I will not look. They will stay out of my sight. I cannot hear them.

So, options and contingencies. They will renew their attack, which will take a long time. They will leave, which is unlikely. They will try to cover us up, likely. It makes sense: cold is the worst weakness here, and they can handle it where we cannot. Heat outside the shield will eventually work it’s way in, and cold will eventually worm in as well. Pile snow on us and we will all freeze until I lose my hold and it will be over. So, in the end, this is likely.

I hear my old drill sergeant: Variables in the equation, Armor?

Friendly Patrols, likely but delayed. An attempt to locate us in the next few hours, doubtful. I’m not due back at the border for at least two more hours. They won’t search for another one after that at the very least.

So... five hours. That is my estimate.

The ponies behind me are murmuring. Military order breaking down, but this is hardly the time or place to mention it.

I bite my lip.

“Captain?”

“What?”

“They’re... piling up snow. Around the barrier.”

“I know.”

Author's Note

Give me Love over Life
The Sweet Softer Ground

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuqbOCXRY9k

Unedited, if enough people like this I might start gettin' randomguy to give it a cursory look. But for now it's not worth it to put forth the effort. Hope ya like it a little.

I'm experimenting here! I've been reading Faulkner and reminding myself why As I Lay Dying is one of my favorite books ever. I want to write like that. So I'm tryin' to here but it fails. Cash and Jewel are my favorites. Darl can go die in a hole.

Cadance

Cadance

There are alicorns and then there are alicorns. There are those who may hear songs and those who heard the Song at the dawn of time.

Oh, but our bed is so cold and like animal magnetism at work I can feel the empty imprint you leave when you go. It’s like a hole dug by hooves and everything leans in towards, even me.

Shining is gone. He’s out there, wandering. Doing something. Being elsewhere and our bed is so cold. I’ve retired and court is long over and our rooms are empty. I ate lunch alone, and I stare out the window alone. Lonely the head that wears the crown.

But there are alicorns and there are alicorns and it is different. My aunts can stay alone for a long time, but I’m just a pony. Ponies were not made to live alone; mutual help and companionship.

I roll around in our bed and think about Shining. It is completely beneath me, but it’s fun and I laugh.

But he’s out in the cold, and I wonder what he’s doing.

I used to love watching him on the parade ground. It’s my curse: I can’t resist a stallion in armor. And how heroic he looked, those bright and alert eyes. How straight and tall he stood, proud and how he smiled at me when he knew no one could see him.

So he was a fool too, but a good fool.

This is a routine now for us. We sit together on the dual throne for a few weeks of happiness. But then he will fidget. Court will seem overlong. I’ll catch him staring out the window. Sometimes he’ll accost some poor guardspony to spar with and I have to help bandage the innocent and I fuss and Shining feels foolish but nothing changes. He starts to walk more slowly.

And of course, in the end, I always let him go. He skips off to patrol or war or whatever it is like the colt who used to pull my tail when we were young.

I ask him why this happens but he won’t tell me. Or at least I think he won’t, for his answers have words but they mean nothing and his shrugs tell more than they do. He tries to tell me that he’s restless, but I know he’s not without rest because he sleeps whenever I let him and he’d never leave bed if I didn’t prod him to. He tells me that he feels useless but I need him. This always makes him sigh when I say that he’s helping me. I hate that sigh. He makes me angry, but he knows that and we feel foolish and I let him go without being mad at him for leaving and he thanks me and in the morning...

In the morning he is gone to do whatever it is that tugs at him.

The mountain gods worry me. But Shining will come back.

I know he will. He must. The Dual Throne sits half empty and the bed has only his imprint and these things mean he must come back, because nature abhors a vacuum and it is very important. He’s brave. He’s strong.

It is sad that we call them that because they are not. The Mitou are just things that cannot decide how many legs to run on and how we should not fear. No, I suppose fear, but not live in fear of. They can die just as we can.

Shining isn’t afraid, not in a visible way. Mostly, he wears a stern face or a kind one; masks, but both are lovely. They comfort my ponies and give them hope. Hope is like love. I understand hope. I think.

Hope hope hope.

It’s rare to have so much time to myself. I’m lucky, really, that the Empire doesn’t work quite like Equestria. Ministers and offices work for me. A whole system in place to help.

Time passes and the sun sinks lower in the sky. It worries me.

Of course, he won’t be back for some time.

The Empire is warm, and the city itself is in Spring, but I know outside the border where he is it must be snowing. Snowing reminds me of—

—We were young and Twilight was so small. I wasn’t babysitting then, I just wanted somepony to play with. I still had my Henosian accent and I’d only been in Canterlot for a few months. But Twilight was asleep or had the cold, I don’t remember. But Shining wanted to play and we ran—

I haven’t thought about Henosis in a long time. Well, no, it hasn’t been something I have actively thought about. But I’ve seen it in dreams. I see it whenever Shining is gone too long out there in the snow. I see the Grand Hall of Dawn Castle and Mother smiling from the Throne of Gold down at me. I dream about tapestries that go on for miles and being a filly with wild hair and little wings that I cannot use yet.

My hooves always sound so loud in the quiet empty halls. Dawn Castle is so large and there are not as many ponies in it as are in Canterlot Palace. Canterlot will frighten me with it’s crowds. Here I spend much of the day in the company of only a few ponies or all alone.

I look out the window again, suddenly tired.

The sun is slowly sinking. Aunt Celestia is letting it go to bed. Like a foal.

The word foal makes me sad.

I will tell Shining all about Henosis when he gets back. He likes my stories. I think.

Author's Note

bluh the moveable feast of crap

I think I'm gonna start inventing clever ways to recycle these self-depreciating statements in my author's notes. Hm.

That might be fun.

Cadance is now Dewey Dell.