Placing the bundled-up filly carefully onto the bed, Warm Care shuffled over to the door of his bedroom and shut it with a soft click. Keeping the lights off, the old stallion then made his way over to the fireplace, quickly stoking the embers with a poker. Tossing a couple of logs onto the glowing coals, he soon had the fire crackling merrily again.

Happy with the size of the flames, as well as the warmth now spreading through the room, Warm Care turned his attention to the small bundle now resting atop his bed.

“Alright, little one,” he cooed softly to the filly encased within the bundle. “Let’s get you out of there.” Grasping the damp cloth—wet from the snow—in his hooves, the old stallion gently began to peel layer after layer off of the bundle, slowly revealing the dark foal underneath. He would then tossed the blankets over towards the hearth, where they laid in a pile in front of the fire.

The filly, Selena if the decorative collar was anything to go by, was oddly quiet during the whole ordeal. As Warm Care unwrapped her like a present, she just stared up at the ceiling, her blank eyes seeing nothing. Every so often, her ear would twitch.

After nearly half a minute, Warm Care had reached the final layer of cloth. Peeling it off of the filly, the old stallion then tossed the damp fabric over with the others, now drying in front of the fire.

Turning to look back at the exposed filly, Warm Care froze, his eyes widening in shock at what he saw. He rubbed his eyes carefully, trying to make sure that the old orbs weren’t failing him. Upon double-checking, he found that his eyes were truthful.

There, upon the dark fur of the filly’s tiny flank, was a cutie mark.

Warm Care stared at the small filly, speechless. This was unheard of. By the size of the filly, the old stallion would wager that she was only a couple of weeks old. No foal that age could possibly have a cutie mark. Not only did they not have time to figure out what their special talent was, but the residual magic within their bodies hadn’t yet stabilized enough to allow a cutie mark to form.

Yet, there it was, clear as day.

Warm Care eyed the filly’s cutie mark, cocking his head to the side. Leaning in, he gripped the filly’s back leg gently in his hooves, moving the limb slightly to get a better look at the symbol upon her flank. If this sudden attention bothered the foal, she didn’t show it.

The cutie mark was tiny—one of the smallest Warm Care had ever seen—but that was to be expected given the filly’s size. The cutie mark itself was like nothing the old stallion had seen before, even upon grown ponies. Across the filly’s flank an inky black splotch spread out, looking like somepony had spilled a bottle of ink upon the filly. In stark contrast against the blackness, a white crescent moon sat, emblazoned, in the middle of the dark blob of fur. It practically sparkling in the gloom.

Warm Care leaned back, rubbing the side of his head with a hoof as he continued to stare at the filly. For the most part, the filly appeared content to just lie there, staring up at the ceiling and blinking occasional. Every so often, a shiver would run through her body, her fur still slightly damp from her time spent in the snow pile.

Eventually, Warm Care’s mind came to a conclusion about what he was seeing.

“It’s painted on,” he said to himself, laughing softly as he shook his head. “That must be it. Her parents, for whatever reason, painted a fake cutie mark on her before abandoning her in the snow.” How could he have ever be so silly as to believe that a newborn could possibly possess a cutie mark? That very notion was impossible, and Warm Care had to resist smacking his head with a hoof.

“I’ll be back in a second, little one,” the old stallion said softly to the filly, heading towards the door of his bedroom. “We’ve got to get something to wash that paint off.”

Leaving his bedroom door open a crack, Warm Care returned a few seconds later with a small basin of warm water and a washcloth.

“Why anypony would go through the trouble of painting a cutie mark upon you before leaving you out in the cold, I’m not entirely sure,” he said as he placed the basin upon his nightstand. “But we’ll get it off of you here in a second.”

The filly squirmed and whined in discomfort as Warm Care picked her up, but she soon grew still as the stallion dipped the washcloth into the basin and then pressed the wet fabric against her coat. She cooed happily as the warmth from the wet cloth slowly seeped into her body. A soft smile touched the old stallion lips as he rubbed the filly’s flank gently, attempting to wash the paint out of her fur.

After a few minutes of scrubbing, however, all Warm Care managed to do was get the filly’s fur wet. The cutie mark was still there, and wasn’t the least bit faded. If anything, the moon now seemed to twinkle more as water beaded up upon it.

Placing a hoof upon his muzzle, Warm Care scrunched up his face as he eyed the filly. As the ministrations from the warm washcloth stopped, she began to wiggle around on the bed, whimpering slightly in distress.

Absentmindedly, Warm Care placed the washcloth over the filly’s chest. She immediately giggled before wrapping her forelegs around the wet fabric. Placing a corner into her mouth, she began to suckle it as one would their mother’s teat.

As soft slurping noises filled the room, Warm Care rubbed his tired eyes with a hoof. Glancing at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace, the caretaker saw that it was nearing three in the morning.

“I’m going to wager that I won’t be getting any sleep,” he said, turning back to stare at the filly. As though sensing his eyes upon her, the young filly smiled around the washcloth in her mouth, continuing her sucking.

“Don’t look so smug,” Warm Care said teasingly as he reached out and gently poked the filly in the side. “It’s because of you I’m not going to be able to sleep.” The filly wiggled around happily, giggling slightly at the old stallion’s touch.

Laughing softly at the filly, Warm Care’s smile slowly turned into a troubled frowned as his eyes drifted once more to the filly’s supposed cutie mark.

“First thing in the morning, we’re going to the hospital to get that looked at,” he muttered as he fought off a yawn. “And to make sure you’re healthy.”

A low gurgle filled the air and, as one, bother Warm Care and the filly looked down at her stomach. The old stallion chuckled again as the filly cocked her head to the side, the confusion clear on her face.

“But first, let’s see if we can find you some milk.”

Lowering her ophthalmoscope, Nurse Blue Cross frowned slightly as she looked down at the small unicorn filly in front of her. The foal was lying prone upon the paper-covered table, staring blankly up at the ceiling with a tired look on her face. As the nurse watched, the filly suddenly yawned, squeaking slightly as her pink tongue poked out of her mouth in a cute manner.

Repressing the urge to coo at the sight, Blue Cross leaned back in her chair, placing the device in her hoof onto a small instrument tray located beside the examination table. Sighing, she closed her eyes briefly before opening them again and turning her attention to the other pony in the room.

Seated uncomfortably in the small chair in the corner of the room, Warm Care was quite content to simply let the nurse work in silence. As the nurse examined the filly he had brought in, the old stallion fought to keep his tired eyes open.

True to his prediction, Warm Care hadn’t gotten any more sleep the previous night. As soon as the sun had risen he had asked his assistant, Merriweather, to look after the other foals while he took Selena to the hospital. Luckily, Ponyville General was practically deserted due to the early hour, and a nurse was immediately available to assist.

Suddenly finding himself under Blue Cross’s gaze, Warm Care sat up a bit straighter, his ears perking up as he shook the sleep from his mind.

“And you said you found her in a snowbank in the middle of the night?” the nurse asked as she rubbed her muzzle absentmindedly. Pulling a pen out of her mane, she quickly jotted a few notes down onto a nearby clipboard.

“That is correct,” Warm Care replied calmly, nodding his head. Blue Cross’s ear twitched in response, and her frowned deepened.

“And there was nopony else nearby?” she continued, still rubbing her muzzle with her free hoof. “Where there any signs that somepony had been out and about?”

“There was a patch of snow near where I found her that looked like it had been disturbed,” Warm Care said slowly. “But it looked old. Possibly two hours or more, if I had to guess.” Blue Cross’s eyes widened, and her hoof dropped from her muzzle in shock.

“You’re telling me this filly was out in the snow for two hours by herself?” she asked, nearly shouting in her outrage. Warm Care jumped slightly, his ears splaying back at the noise. The filly on the table flinched as well, scrunching up her face in discomfort.

“I-I believe so, yes,” Warm Care stuttered, unsure of what the mare was getting at.

“It’s a wonder she didn’t get hypothermia!” Blue Cross cried, looking over at the filly with an incredulous look on her face. “She can’t be more than two weeks old. Any foal that old can’t survive long out in the cold without something keeping them warm!”

“There were a bunch of blankets wrapped around her,” Warm Care began before frowning. “Although, they were pretty damp when I took them off.”

“The fact that the blankets were damp even adds to the impossibility of the situation,” Blue Cross said, running a hoof through her blue mane. “It’s a miracle she’s even alive.” Turning, Blue Cross stared at the dark-coated filly, lost in thought.

The filly, Selena, was starting to squirm, not enjoying the feel of the hard, steel table beneath her. She whined slightly, trying to roll over onto her side. Reaching out a hoof, Blue Cross halted the filly’s movement.

As the nurse lifted the filly gently into the air, Warm Care spoke up, “Well, that was the main reason I brought her here this morning. To make sure that there wasn’t any lasting damage done by the cold.”

“Well, I can tell you right now that if you hadn’t informed me that she had been left out in the snow, I wouldn’t have known,” Blue Cross admitted, bouncing the filly gently in her hooves to keep her from crying. It was apparently working, because as she bounced up and down, the foal’s foggy eyes slowly closed as she began to nod off.

“Besides being slightly underweight, there is nothing wrong with her as far as I could find,” Blue Cross continued. “She’s a perfectly healthy filly, even if she is rather small. Her horn is firm and developed correctly, her bones are in perfect condition, and judging by the way she was sucking on her blanket when you arrived, I’d say she’s more than willing to nurse.

“That being said,” Blue Cross said as she placed the now-sleeping foal back onto the table. “There is one thing that I cannot figure out, and that is her blindness. By my reckoning, her eyes should be working perfectly. I could find nothing during my examination that might shed light on why she is blind. Short of using invasive magical scans, I have no explanation as to why she can’t see.”

“Couldn’t it be genetics?” Warm Care asked, cocking his head to the side. Blue Cross grimaced, biting her lip before sighing.

“It could be, but I wouldn’t bet on it. Natural blindness is rare in newborn foals. Even then, there is usually an underlying reason, like a detached retina or moon blindness, and even the latter is pushing it. However, there is nothing wrong with her eyes. If it weren’t for the fact that they are cloudy and her pupils don’t respond to light, I’d say she should have perfect vision.”

“Is there anything you can do for her?” Warm Care asked, giving the sleeping filly a sad look. “Such a young thing shouldn’t go through life with a handicap like that.”

“Short of ripping her eyes out and giving her new ones, no,” Blue Cross said dryly. “She’ll be blind for the rest of her life.”

“I see.” A thick tension fell over the room as both ponies fell silent, each left to their own thoughts. Warm Care was thinking about what he was going to do after he got the filly home. Selena, he chided himself. Her name is Selena.

Warm Care knew that he would be more than happy to look after the lost filly, but there was a thought—a secret hope—that kept nagging at the back of his mind. What if the whole ordeal was simply a major accident, and her parents were out there right now, searching desperately for their foal? Could he really just decided to take her in when there was still a chance that she might be able to be reunited with her family?

Nodding his head slightly, Warm Care decided that after they finished with their appointment here at the hospital, he would head over to town hall and file a missing foal report with the mayor. If her parents were indeed looking for her, he would do his part and help them find her.

If they weren’t… well, he was already looking after a dozen foals of various ages. Another one couldn’t hurt.

“There was actually something that I was curious about,” Blue Cross said suddenly, breaking Warm Care’s train of thought. Leaning forward with a small frown on her face, the nurse gently grabbed a hold of the filly’s hind leg, twisting it slightly. As she twisted the limb, the filly rolled slowly onto her side, revealing her cutie mark-clad haunch.

“Why did you paint a cutie mark on her flank?” Blue Cross asked, motioning to the mark. She gave Warm Care a blank stare, one of her eyebrows raising slightly.

“That was another thing I was going to bring up, actually,” the old stallion said, closing his eyes and rubbing them with a hoof. “That cutie mark was there when I found her, and it isn’t painted on. It’s legitimate.” Blue Cross snorted, shaking her head in amusement.

“That’s impossible,” she huffed. “Foals can’t get cutie marks until they’re around four years old.”

“I didn’t believe it either when I first saw it, but it’s true.” Warm Care said, leaning back in his small chair. “You can check if you’d like.” Blue Cross slowly turned back to the filly, rubbing her muzzle slowly, lost in thought.

“If what you say is true,” she said eventually, her voice soft. “Then I might know why you found her out in the snow in the first place.” Warm Care sat up quickly, his tiredness instantly forgotten as he gave the nurse his full attention.

“There’s an old superstition that dates back to the time of Discord that might explain it,” Blue Cross began. “Back then, due to Discord’s tricks, it was important for parents, or other family members, to see a foal get their cutie mark. If the cutie mark suddenly appeared without anypony besides the foal witnessing it, it was thought that the foal had made a deal with Discord in order to gain their cutie mark early.”

“What does that have to do with her?” Warm Care asked, motioning towards Selena, who was still asleep, thank the goddess.

“While the superstition is old, the idea behind it still remains,” Blue Cross explained, wincing slightly. “Even now we still hold cute-ceañera as proof that the filly or colt got their cutie mark legitimately.”

“I thought we held them in order to congratulate the foal on getting their mark,” Warm Care said with a frown.

“That might be true nowadays,” Blue Cross said with a nod. “But way back when cute-ceañera were held so that the parents could show the community that their foal’s cutie mark had been earned, not given. If a foal hadn’t had a cute-ceañera, but had a cutie mark, they were more often than not exiled from the village, along with their parents.”

“That’s barbaric!” Warm Care cried indignantly.

“That’s the way things were back then,” Blue Cross said with a shrug. “And if what you say is true, and her cutie mark is legit, then we’re probably looking at a modern day version of that. This is only speculation, of course, but I would wager that when her parents saw she had a cutie mark at such a young age, they immediately assumed—wrongly, mind you—that dark magic was involved. What we have here is the result of their decision.”

Warm Care looked at the filly the nurse was motioning to, a look of horror on his face.

“What pony in their right mind would abandon their foal just because they had a cutie mark?” Blue Cross just shrugged, puffing out her cheeks slightly.

“I don’t know,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I’m just thankful you came along when you did. If you hadn’t woken up and decided to go for a moonlit stroll, she would have been dead come morning.”

Warm Care opened his mouth to agree, but was interrupted by a loud, shrill whine. The filly had awoken during their talk and was now crying, her tiny face scrunched up in discomfort. During a lull in the cries, a low gurgle came from the filly’s stomach.

“Aw, it looks like somepony is hungry,” Blue Cross cooed as she picked up the squirming foal. Standing up, the nurse trotted quickly to the door and opened it. Poking her head out, she called down the hall, “Redheart, could you come here a moment?”

A few seconds later a young mare appeared at the door, her pink mane done up in a bun. She had a bounce in her step and an eager look in her sparkling blue eyes.

“Please take this filly down to the maternity ward and give her to the wet nurse on duty for a feeding. After that, please find my sister and tell her to gather up a New Parent Package and bring it back here,” Blue Cross instructed the intern, carefully handing Redheart the crying filly.

“Take filly to wet nurse then find Blue Shield,” Redheart repeated with a nod. “Got it.” Turning, the pink-maned mare hurried off down the hall, talking quietly to the filly in her grip.

As Warm Care watched them go, he felt a sudden hollowness fall over his chest. Rubbing his breast with a hoof, the old stallion turned slowly back to look at Blue Cross. The nurse was giving him a curious look, tapping her chin with a hoof as she hummed softly.

“I take it you’re going to be looking after the foal?” she asked.

“I was going to take her to town hall and have some missing foal posters made. If nopony answers, then I was thinking of taking her in, yes.”

“Well,” Blue Cross said with a chuckle, “you’re probably the best pony to take care of an abandoned filly. We’ll give you some supplies for taking care of her, some formula, and some other things.”

“Anything I need to know about taking care of her?” Warm Care asked, still rubbing his chest with a hoof, the hollow feeling still present.

“Have you ever taken care of newborns before?”

“Yes,” Warm Care nodded. “I’ve had to take care young foals in the past.”

“It should be the same thing for her,” Blue Cross said, picking up her clipboard and quickly scratching down some notes. “However, there will be some differences due to her blindness. Her hearing will be better than that of an average foal’s. Instead of calming down at the sight of you, you’ll probably find that she will calm down at the sound of your voice. Her sense of smell will probably be increased as well, meaning you’ll have to be careful around her. Scents that are strong or overpowering will probably make her sick.

“Also, she probably won’t be as explorative as other foals. Without her sight, she won’t be as curious, but that’s not to say that she won’t wander around at all.”

“I’m guessing that if she does wander, I should watch her closely?” Warm Care asked with a chuckle. Blue Cross nodded, tearing off a page from the clipboard and handing it to the old stallion.

“Yes. While foals can get into trouble easily, it will be more so with her. She can’t see stairs, walls, furniture, or anything else that might hurt her. You’ll have to make sure that she remains safe.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard—” The door to the room opened suddenly, causing Warm Care and Blue Cross to looked over at it in confusion. A frazzled looking mare with a powder blue coat stuck her head in and looked around, her mint green mane starting to fray slightly.

“Tenderheart, what’s the matter?” Blue Cross asked, alarmed at her fellow nurse’s appearance.

“Blue Cross, you’ve got to come quickly,” the other nurse said, her voice shrill. “Something’s happening in the maternity ward, and we don’t know what to do!”

Blue Cross was instantly on her hooves and out the door, Warm Care close behind her. As the trio rushed down the hall, Warm Care became aware of a series of loud, shrill cries filling the air. The noise grew louder as they neared the maternity ward.

Turning a corner, the trio slowed to a trot in confusion. It seemed like all of the foals within the ward were crying, their combined wails echoing around the rooms to create an almost deafening din. Redheart was standing in front of the hospital’s nursery, her ears pressed tight against her head in discomfort, Selena still in her grasp.

Running up to the intern, Blue Cross scrunched up her face in pain as she shouted to be heard above the screams, “What the buck did you do?!”

“I-I don’t know!” Redheart cried. “I was just walking by when they started freaking out!”

“Why would they start doing that?” Warm Care shouted, placing his hooves over his ears.

“I don’t know,” Redheart confessed loudly. “But that’s not the weirdest part!”

“There’s something weirder than this?” Blue Cross yelled, giving the mare an incredulous look. Without answering, Redheart simply held up the dark-coated filly in her hooves. Warm Care blinked, his confusion growing at what he saw.

Despite the chaos around her, Selena was now perfectly calm. She blinked her foggy eyes slowly, her tail flicking back and forth lazily.

“What the—” Blue Cross said, her eyes widening in shock. As the two ponies stared at the filly in the intern’s hooves, she just stared off into space, her eyes unseeing. Her ears twitched as the other foals continued to cry.

Sighing heavily, Blue Cross dragged a hoof down her face.

“Mr. Care,” she said, her voice strained. “Please take the filly while we handle this situation.” Silently, Warm Care took Selena from Redheart, the filly instantly snuggling down into his hooves with a happy coo. As the nurses moved to start calming the upset foals, the old stallion looked down at the unicorn in his hooves.

“Why do I feel like my life is about to get a lot stranger with you around?” he asked the filly humorously. The filly said nothing, only sneezing cutely in response.

Pulling weakly at the chains that bound her legs, the sky blue unicorn winced as the metal cuffs dug deeper into her already chafed ankles. As the metal bit into her skin, the dried blood that caked her ankles cracked, allowing fresh blood to begin to flow. The unicorn whimpered as the crimson liquid dripped from her hoof onto the ground.

Another tug on the chain sent a sudden spike of pain rushing up the mare’s leg, causing her to gasp, tears forming in her eyes. Gritting her teeth, the unicorn hiss angrily as she glowered at the chain with watery eyes.

She continued to glare at the chain for several minutes, her frustration growing with each passing second as one thought continued to repeat itself over and over again within her mind.

Selena…

Her eyes flashed and in one quick swoop, the mare leaned down and, in a fit of rage, grabbed the chain in her teeth. Biting down hard upon the dirty metal, she whipped her head back quickly, trying to break the links.

A loud crack rang out, echoing around the cell as the mare dropped the chain, her eyes going wide. Throwing her head back, the mare howled in pain, her cries muffled as she placed a hoof over her mouth. When she finally removed her shaking hoof from her muzzle, it came away bloodied. She could feel even more blood flowing from between her lips, dribbling down her chin.

The chain hadn’t broken…

...her tooth, however, had.
.
Spitting blood and saliva from her mouth, the broken mare slumped weakly against the stone wall, wincing as her injured hoof scraped against the floor. Leaning her head against the cold stone, the unicorn cried quietly to herself.

“Selena…” she whimpered, tears rolling down her dirty cheeks. She tried to wipe her face with her hoof, but only managed to smear blood across her muzzle, the tears continuing to come. Fresh pain welled up inside of her at the thought of her daughter, now probably lying dead in the snow somewhere.

The very notion that the filly she had sung to sleep only forty hours ago was now a frozen corpse caused her heart to crack.

“Now the hour has come at last,” she sobbed, her sides shaking in grief. “The soft and fading light, has crossed the west horizon, and has bidden us goodnight.”

Drawing breath to continue singing, the mare jumped as a loud, metallic crash echoed down the corridor, reverberating around her cell. The sound of hooves upon stone followed as somepony moved through the dungeons, heading for her cell.

As the hoofsteps drew closer, the mare shrank back, huddling in the corner of her cell. Her heart pounded in her chest, echoing the hoofsteps with every beat. As the large figure appeared outside of her cell, the mare’s breath caught in her throat. Eyes widening, she whimpered in fear as she gazed up at the imposing figure before her, “Archduke Black Spark.”

The Archduke didn’t say anything, he just stood there, staring into the cell, his blue eyes glowing softly in the gloom.

“W-what do you want from me?” the mare asked, wilting under the stallion’s stare. Again, the Archduke didn’t say anything. His eyes narrowed, and his lip slowly pulled back in a sneer.

“I have done nothing wrong!” the mare cried, her ears splaying backwards. “I am innocent! You have no right!”

“I have every right,” the Archduke finally said, his voice low. “You ran, my guards pursued.”

“I’m innocent,” the mare repeated, glaring up at the stallion from the floor of her cell.

“If you’re innocent, why did you run?” Black Spark asked, raising an eyebrow. “Surely, if you were guiltless, you would not have felt the need to flee?” The mare snorted, her nostrils flaring in anger. Her previous fear was replaced with hatred for the stallion who had cost her her daughter.

“You can’t keep me here,” the mare growled. “This is immoral.”

“Oh, I think that you’ll find that I can,” Black Spark said, examining his manicured hoof with disinterest. “In fact, if I really wanted to, I could keep you here for as long as I wanted.”

“Ponies will wonder where we are,” the mare sneered, her tail flicking against the wall. “My stallion, myself, the ferrymare, Crimson Rush. When we don’t return home, ponies will wonder. And when they find out what you’ve done, there will be no escaping justice.” At her words, Black Spark’s demeanor cracked, his blue eyes flashing.

“I am justice,” he snarled, his voice low as he smashed his hoof against the bars of the cell with a loud crack. Leaning closer, he glared at the trapped mare with unfiltered hatred, his nostrils flared. “I am the law.” The mare shrank back, cowering against the wall at the sudden show of aggression.

After several seconds, the Archduke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Leaning back, he adjusted his chaperon hat, which had become askew in his sudden rage. He rubbed his muzzle, sighing heavily before opening his eyes again.

Black Spark stared down at the mare, his blank expression back upon his face, before speaking again, “Besides, that doesn’t matter. Nopony knows you’re here.”

“That’s what you think,” the mare chuckled, her voice cracking. “We sent a letter to Princess Celestia before we left. She’s expecting us. If we don’t show up, she’ll know something is up and send ponies to look for us!” She gave Black Spark a triumphant, blood-soaked grin, sure that she had just won. Her triumph slowly turned to confusion, however, as a small smile slowly spread across the Archduke’s muzzle.

“A letter, you say?” he asked as his horn lit up, bathing the surrounding area in a red light. As a folded piece of paper appeared beside his head, the Archduke’s smile grew. “You mean this letter?”

“...no,” the mare whispered, a look of horror crossing her face as she stared up at the paper.

“I’ve got to say,” Black Spark said, unfolding the paper and glancing over it slowly. “When I first read your letter, I could hardly believe what I was reading. A newborn foal with a cutie mark? Unheard of. A newborn foal with a cutie mark of the moon? Unfathomable.”

As the Archduke spoke, the mare staggered to her hooves, throwing herself at the bars. Halfway across the cell, the chains around her hooves grew taut, causing her to trip. She slammed into the bars, clinging to them to prevent herself from falling to the stone floor.

“I racked my mind, trying to find a possible reason for this phenomenon,” Black Spark continued, ignoring the mare sudden movement, “After a while, I came to the conclusion that there was only one possible explanation for your foal having a cutie mark.” As he talked, the Archduke’s voice slowly grew colder and colder, till the very air around him seemed to freeze.

Turning his head, Black Spark glared down at the mare, who stared back up at him through the bars of her cell, desperation in her gaze. Her veins chilled at the stallion’s next words.

“Black magic.” The mare opened her mouth to say something, anything, to counter his accusation, but the Archduke silenced her with a snort.

“Did you really think it would work?” he asked quietly, the tone of his voice dangerously calm. “Did you really think that you could use your gypsy magic to try and fool the crown? That if you arrived before the throne and showed the princess a newborn with a cutie mark, she would give you power, fame, and bits? Did you really think that she was that gullible?”

“That wasn’t our plan—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Black Spark snarled, closing the distance between their faces until only the bars separated them. The stallion’s breath flooded the mare’s nostrils, and she shrank back, gagging slightly at the overpowering smell of wine.

“You gypsy vermin are all the same,” Black Spark sneered. “Always trying to cheat honest ponies out of their bits. Never willing to do any hard work, content to steal from those who are more successful than you. Always trying to worm your way through the cities, poisoning Equestria with your filth!”

The Archduke paused, glaring into the mare’s eyes for several seconds, searching. She just clung to the bars, whimpering slightly as her eyes watered. She could feel the chain pulling on her injured hoof, causing pain to flare up her leg. She ignored it, however, and remained where she was.

Eventually, Black Spark spoke. “Where’s the foal?”

The mare didn’t answer, instead opting to slump further down the bars, her ears splaying backwards. She whimpered pitifully as tears began to flow down her stained face. The Archduke appeared unfazed by her sorrow. He just snorted, his nostrils flaring, before he repeated himself.

“Where is the foal, you filthy gypsy?”

“My name,” the mare said quietly, “is Theia.” Pushing herself off of the bars with a wince, she turned and limped farther into her cell, away from the door. Flicking her tail, she settled gently into the corner of her cell, her injured leg sticking out at an odd angle.

“Your name doesn’t matter,” Black Spark growled, his eyes narrowing. “Where is the foal?”

Theia said nothing. She silently adjusted her body into a more comfortable position. As she shifted, her back legs rubbed against her swollen teats, reminding her of what she had lost. Leaning her head against the stone wall, the mare cooed softly as her jaw touched the cold stone, the chill soothing her aching teeth.

“Answer me,” Black Spark shouted, slamming his hoof against the bars. “You had the foal when we caught you at the river bank, but when the guards returned you, it was gone. Now, tell me where your thrice-damned foal is!” Sighing, Theia closed her eyes, tears slowly flowing from beneath her lids.

“I lost her,” she muttered, her voice broken. As she said those words, she could feel her heart twinge. “I lost her in a snowbank shortly before your guards found me. If they didn’t find her, then… then…”

“Then she’s probably dead,” Black Spark finished, his tone returning to normal. Straightening up, the stallion adjusted his cloak before glancing back down at the mare. “If that is indeed the case, then we are finished here.” As he turned to leave, Theia gasped.

“Y-you can’t leave me here!” she cried, struggling to her hooves. Moving towards the bars again, she pressed her face against the cold steel, trying to see the Archduke. “I told you what you wanted! You have no reason to hold me any longer! I have done nothing wrong!”

“Unlike your stallion, you shall not rot in your cell,” Black Spark called back over his shoulder to the mare as he continued walking. Theia sighed, relaxing slightly in relief, until the stallion spoke again.

“You shall be executed in three days for your crimes against the crown. For your attempted deception, and use of black magic, you shall be sentence to hang from the neck until dead.”

“This is not right! This is injustice!” Theia screamed, pressing her face further against the bars. “I have done nothing wrong! I have committed no crimes! You have nothing to convict me with! This is wrong!” The Archduke ignored the hysterical mare as he continued towards the entrance to the dungeons, his hoof clipping loudly against the stone floor.

“You are a monster! There is no way you will get away with this! Somepony will stop you!” Reaching the door, the Archduke knocked three times before waiting for the guard on the other side to unlock the door.

“You have my foal’s blood on your hooves!” Theia screamed, her cries echoing through the empty cells around her. “You have innocent blood upon your hooves!”

As the dungeon door opened to allow him to exit, the Archduke paused, glancing back at the cell containing the distraught mare. He stayed like that for several seconds before turning and trotting through the door, calling back over his shoulder as he did so.

“My conscience is clear.”

The door slammed shut, leaving the mare to continue screaming long into the night until her voice finally gave out and she fell silent, her muffled sobs filling the dungeons beneath Canterlot.