"Love is patient. Love is kind. Love always forgives, trusts, supports, and endures. Love never fails. When every star in the heavens grows cold, and when silence lies once more on the face of the deep, three things will endure: faith, hope, and love."

An aging woman sat before her desk, staring down at the quote she had scribbled onto parchment in the dimness of her cramped personal office. Her flat stare slowly turned into a gentle scowl, lips upturned and brow furrowed.

Love.

She tugged at the elastic holding her shoulder length white and seafoam green hair in a ponytail, letting it all tumble out and across her shoulders. She turned her eyes away from the note card parchment, blowing an indignant breath. Her scarred fingers drummed slowly across the wooden top of her desk, annoyance taking over where displeasure had sat moments before.

“Love…” She muttered to herself in the dim office. “Of all the people they could have chosen for this speech, they chose me.” She let her ire be heard by all the papers in her office, by the softly humming lights and the worn down nubs of pencils. “Damn it…” She sighed deeply, willing her frustrations in with one breath, and out in one smooth exhale.

“Okay, Flitter… You can do this. It’s the same as every other year. You just need to come up with a speech, stand on that stupid stage, say your stupid speech, bow, thank the Princess, and go back to work.” Flitter rubbed the palm of her cybernetic hand against her temple, as if the motion would will out a unique speech after twelve years of doing so.

The words didn’t come. Wouldn’t.

She exhaled again, and settled her face into her open palms, letting the balls of her hands press lightly against her eyes. After a minute or two, she dragged her hands across her features, and cast a look to a now faded photo sitting in a carved wooden frame. In it stood all the members of JSOG in their parade finery, their smiles gentle and reassuring. The photo had been taken during the first victory parade, over a decade ago, maybe a few months after the operation that had stopped Carolus’ mad plan, saved the world…

And killed Jack Kessle.

For years, that thought had always brought the sting of tears to her eyes, the memory of that last op, that last kiss. It always wounded her to think about, of all the things she was dying to say, but didn’t have the time to. It reminded her of all the things they hadn’t done, and it gutted her. Rather, it used to. Now, over a decade later, the thought simply weighed down on her, driving her eyes down and making her eyelids heavy. Lifting her eyes again after a moment, she regarded the picture slowly, taking in each individual face.

First and foremost, there was Taven. Her second in command. Taven had shed the human disguise once the war was over, and there was no need for him to use his powered armour. The armour now stood in a museum, the fuel cells dried up. His wounds during the last operation had all but ended his career as a soldier and guard, he needed a cane to get around properly last she had seen. She hadn’t seen Taven in nearly five years, but the last she’d heard, he had gotten married to a stunning little number out of Neigh York. Something about starting a business and a family had him all tied up, and as much as she wished him a happy and prosperous life, she was still… jealous, in a way.

The next face was Minerva. Strong, reliable Minerva. She’d fallen out of touch with her stout sergeant a few years back, but she was certain she’d returned to her natural form. Minerva had always shown quiet disdain for being stuck in a human body, the nature of it disturbing her. Flitter didn’t blame her, she was a simple, straightforward mare, who didn’t have time for such inane things. She’d stuck with the service for a time after the operation, but the events of the war had weighed heavily on her conscience, especially when the control Jalgromak had held over people had been erased. Flitter half thought if she sent out feelers, she’d find Minerva muzzle deep in a whiskey somewhere out on the frontier.

After Minerva was Baron and Ace. She smiled a little at them, as Baron helped hold up Ace in the image. They’d gotten married within months of the war’s end, surprising nobody. Baron had even gotten a complete royal pardon by Queen Omega and the Princesses, after the purge of Chrysalis’ hive had been completed. That operation had been messy, and damned ugly. Flitter rubbed at one of her ears in memory, shuddering a little. The two soldiers were fast in love, even now. Ace lived in a wheelchair in his human form, something about it made him more comfortable. Baron, being a changeling, lived in whatever form she and Ace decided on at the time; Flitter had seen her in at least half a dozen different looks, each one making her husband look like a playboy. They still lived in Canterlot, and she did her best to stay in touch when her work allowed it.

Simoh followed them, lurking near the edge as he always did. After the war ended, he had simply vanished, taking all of his high tech equipment with him. About a year after, when gangsters and bandits and all other sorts of nasty villains had stuck their heads out to take advantage of the power vacuum, they started dying. Villains and ne'er do wells of all stripes found their ambitions checked harshly by a crack of thunder and a sudden transformation of skull into fine pink mist. She grinned a little at the thought, and wished him well, wherever he was.

There were others, of course, but JSOG was like a family to her. The new unit was unfamiliar to her, all fresh faced rookies and stoney faced vets who hadn’t seen real combat like she had. Still, as she turned away from the picture on her desk, Flitter’s mind went to the others who had helped save her world. Yuma had attempted to return to her simple life in the minotaur homelands, but the changes the war had brought to her mind and body saw her fit in poorly. She now served as an honor guard at the castle, and a fearsome one at that. A few years prior when a band of cultists had broken into the castle for some unknown reason, drugging a good portion of the guard to do so, they’d run into Yuma, and Yuma alone. By the time the fight drew reinforcements, eleven of the dozen cultists had been either badly crippled or outright killed, and the last had all but begged the guards to save him.

Walter, Kleese, and the humans came to her mind after that. They’d settled around Canterlot at first, but once time passed and wounds began to heal, some people decided to start trouble. The resulting troubles saw the humans relocate with their ship out toward the mountains, taking up residence on a major trade route. The Empire and Equestria still sent them supplies and the like, and relations were well enough, but because of the move Flitter had lost track of what had happened to many of Jack’s compatriots. She still saw Walter and Jessica, if only at the ceremony every year. The others made their rounds, paying respect to those who fell, but most didn’t have much to say to her.

Flitter drew in one last breath, before exhaling slowly again. She had an idea, and it was one that had saved her many times before. Leaving her seat, Flitter winced as her hip and knee protested, her old wounds flaring up. After a moment of massaging her leg, she forced herself to hobble across the office, and open a small fridge. Inside sat a crystal decanter and a single glass, alongside several small round stones. Popping the top off the decanter, she poured a finger of fine whiskey into the glass and carefully dropped a pair of cold stones in to follow. Taking a brief sip, she hummed softly, and sat back down at her desk.

The note cards sat barren, with only the quote completed. The quote stared at her for a long moment, as if judging her. “Fine! Fine, I’m going.” She growled, taking a long sip of her drink before she turned in her chair to begin once again.

“Love.” She started, and then crumpled up the card, tossing it away. She glared again at the papers, as if they were the source of her mental blockage, and not anything else. Realizing the folly of it, she relaxed slightly, but hadn’t forgiven the papers entirely as she closed her eyes and thought.

“Mom?” A youthful voice sounded from the door, immediately drawing her attention. In the doorway stood a young boy of eleven years, with a mop of black hair and sharp purple eyes. He was tall and gangly for his age, with soft features and an innocence about him that could only ever be found in children. “You’re talking to yourself again.”

Smiling a little to her son, Flitter beckoned him in with her flesh and blood hand. “Come here Jacob.” The anger in her mind had all but faded away as the tall young boy walked over and took her hand. “Did I wake you up?”

“No…” He shook his head, sending the unruly mop this way and that. “I was reading comics, and I heard you talking to yourself again. Is it that time of year again?” They’d played this game before, and he was well versed in it.

Laughing a little, Flitter let her eyes fall a little. She felt she could always get lost in Jacob’s eyes; while they were her own purple, they held that intensity that Jack’s had. They were strong, unwavering. The longer she looked at Jacob, the more she saw Jack. “Yeah, it’s that time of year again.” She smiled, and pushed the whiskey glass aside. “And Princess Twilight has chosen me again to be the big speaker.”

“But you don’t know what to say.” He said sagely, nodding a little. “Why don’t you just talk about dad?”

“Well… I am, but I’m not, if that makes sense.” She tried to explain, sitting him on her good knee as she set a hand on his back.

Jacob turned his head slightly, regarding his mother for a long, quiet moment. “It doesn’t. You should keep it simple, like Dad always said. Keep it simple, stupid.” He smiled as Flitter tsked softly, before giggling as she flicked his ear.

“You’ve been watching those movies again, haven’t you?”

“Of course! Uncle Walter gave them to me, and they’re funny. I know Dad wasn’t really like that, but it’s still nice to imagine.” He hugged her without warning, those long gangly arms filling her heart with warmth as they wrapped around her and squeezed for all they were worth. “You’ll get it, Mom. I know you will!”

“Thanks, Jacob.” Flitter said, a smile now plastered on her face as she tilted it downwards, though still making eye contact. “But… I’m pretty certain it’s passed your bed time!” The boy’s bright eyes lit up, going just as wide as his big, toothy smile. Without another word, the pair launched into a chase, with Flitter hounding him to the bathroom to brush his teeth, then to bed, where she tucked him in, and said the words that meant the world to them both.

“I love you, Jacob.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

It was a sunny day, the day of the anniversary ceremony. Flitter stood at the top of the stage, behind a solid oak podium. A smaller crowd than normal had gathered this year, but she could still make out faces of those she recognized. She looked for Jacob, and found him playing with a human girl of about eight, and a young pegasus who looked to still be young foal. They ran around a large man with meaty arms, which cradled a bundle of baby and blanket. Walter waved to Flitter while Jessica lurked nearby, clearly nursing a hangover under a hand and sunglasses. Walter stood with Maggie Dupont, their arms linked and their smiles gentle.

Flitter held back a laugh, and surveyed the crowd a moment longer. She found her team among them, sitting in the front row in reserved seating. Minerva wasn’t present, and neither was Simoh, but she hadn’t expected them to show. Taven smiled weakly, lifting a hoof in greeting to her gaze as it passed, while Ace and Baron were too busy with each other to notice the brief attention they garnered. Granting Taven a smile and a nod in return, Flitter looked aside as Princess Twilight and Empress Gilda climbed the stage right of her.

The Princess said something flowery and somewhat nerdy, regarding the strong ties between Equis and the Empire and how the two nations were linked, but it was just about the same as she did every year, so Flitter zoned it out, her attention slowly drifting to the statue behind her.

The statue was nearly twenty feet tall, and carved out of smooth marble and hard granite. It was of a soldier in power armour. A human soldier, one who seemed larger than life, ready to take on everything the world could throw at him. In one hand he held a flag pole, in which the old 1st Expeditionary battle standard fluttered in the wind, looking comically small compared to the huge statue.

Before her attentions could drift up, Princess Twilight cleared her throat, and gestured to the podium. “It’s your turn, Lord Commander. Say something inspiring, the new Elements are here.”

Flitter fought back the need to roll her eyes. “Princess, those kids aren’t gonna give a damn what I say, inspiring or not.” She and Twilight had a cordial relationship, her political position giving Flitter freedom to openly sass the Princess. Flitter didn’t see a need to politic about Canterlot, so many of the surviving nobility and top brass had been on the receiving end of her unfiltered ire more than once.

A perk of the job, really.

Twilight pushed a big smile at her, and gestured to the podium. Without using words, Flitter picked up everything the big purple alicorn was putting down. ‘Get up there and talk, you geriatric pain in my ass’. She wanted to laugh.

Stepping up again to the podium, Flitter cleared her throat, and regarded the crowd. She looked to her note cards, which had held her notes and a hurriedly prepared speech. She stared at them as silence fell over the crowd as they waited for her to speak. Twilight uncomfortably cleared her throat behind Flitter, and some people in the crowd shuffled.

Closing her eyes, Flitter took the cards in her cybernetic hand, and crumpled them into tiny little balls. Letting them bounce off the stage, she set both hands down, and opened her eyes. “Twelve years ago, we all stood on the brink of annihilation. A god-borne apocalypse literally seconds away from fruition.” She took in a breath and set her eyes to above the crowd. “Twelve years ago, Love, saved the world. Love, Hope, and Faith. It was faith alone that started our final operation, a suicidal attack against one of the most heavily fortified places on our planet. Faith that we had what it took, that everyone would do their part, or die trying. It was on hope’s wings that we stormed the gates, stepped over our fallen brothers and sisters, and attacked those who wanted to destroy everything we knew. It was hope that we held in our hearts, hope that with every drop of blood spilled, we would buy one single second more to rip victory away from the jaws of defeat.” She took a steadying breath, closing her eyes. “And it was… love, that drove Jack Kessle to face the god Jalgromak in one on one combat. It was love alone that allowed him to suffer what he did, and still find strength to fight. His love for his friends, his family, his fellow soldiers, and... me.” She let out the breath then, and let the words sink in. “He died for that love, and a part of me is… glad.” The shock almost felt palpable. “Jack Kessle had suffered so much, before the end. Every wound imaginable, and he took it all with a quiet strength, unwilling to make others share his burden. He was strong, and not just physically. His heart, and his soul, they were strong. They were what I fell in love with, in the end. Him dying as he did, meant that his suffering was over. He had fought the good fight, and he had died for something that he believed in. He died a hero, and I miss him every day.”

The crowd listened quietly, their attentions solely on her as she cast her eyes through them. “Jack Kessle was not a good man. He was not a bad man. He was simply just… a man, trying to do what he thought was right. He stumbled and he made bad calls, but he always stood back up, picked up his flag, and continued on.” She swallowed a little, throat feeling painfully dry. “This is the twelfth anniversary of Jack Kessle’s death, and the Victory over Jalgromak. In honour of his memory, and the memory of all those who died, I ask for a moment of silence.”

Flitter stepped back from the podium, and made half turn on the ball of her foot. She tamped her dress shoe down hard on the stage, making it bang. The bang was mirrored through the crowd as many of the surviving soldiers stood up as straight as they could, and saluted the statue.

At the base of the tall statue sat a small brass plaque, engraved to read ‘In Memory of those who gave all in the face of total darkness, may we never forget you.’

The ceremony went by with the usual dry pomp after that, the Princess had some words, and the Empress had some words, but Flitter just filtered it all out, and let her eyes rest on the face of the statue. The sculptor had gotten his features perfectly. Every imperfection, every scar, and every dimple stood out on the marble, projecting an image of what he truly looked like. His eyes were sharp in the stone, staring forward in a determined stare. Flitter rubbed at her eyes, she had to be seeing things, but, it looked like the statue’s head was tilted a little more down than usual, the smile a bit bigger, the eyes more soft.

Nearby, Flitter picked up a quiet conversation. “I’m just saying! All that godly energy, and a nuke? That explosion wasn’t like anything we’d ever seen before, and the crater!”

“You’re full of shit, everyone knows that he died there, idiot. There’s no way he could have survived-” Flitter furrowed her brow, glancing off to one side, before looking back to the statue. She had been seeing things, it’s head was forward as it always was, and the smile was nearly gone. The eyes were hard with determination, and there was a crack in the marble.

Flitter scowled. She’d have to have someone repair that soon. Turning away from the statue, Flitter slowly limped through the crowd to collect Jacob. “Ready to get something to eat?”

“Hey, Lord Commander!” Someone yelled, drawing her attention as Jacob said something about waffles. Flitter found herself looking down at Vinyl Scratch, the mare looking as if she’d stepped out of time twelve years ago just to show up here. The pearl white mare offered Flitter a pamphlet. “Come swing by tonight, I got a big special on.” She winked with a grin, before melting back into the crowd.

Furrowing her brow a little, Flitter looked down at the pamphlet.

‘11pm, in memorial, the Ballad of Nasty Jack. Drinks ½ off for vets.’

Author's Notes:

There, a quick and dirty, but straight from the mind and soul epilogue. Fired off in a matter of hours after inspiration hit late at night on a work night. It's probably ugly, it's probably dirty, but it is what it is. I want to thank you all for your kind words, all through Ballad. My readers are what have driven me onwards, and for that I will always be grateful.

I had originally intended to offer a second version of the final chapter, one with more dialogue, but I don't have the gas for that any more. The chapter end is meant to be stoic, that for all his words and quips and noise, Jack fell silent just once, and his last words were what was most important to him. I know some people don't like that sort of artsy approach, but I declare artistic liberty, so bite me already.

Ironwolves21, out.