I'm the bad guy. I've come to accept that. Without Silty, there was nopony to rein in my darker impulses, and I didn't want them to.

But that day that fucking

Fleur, I know you'll read this when it's over. I thought of so many

this is harderthan I thought. YouI

We so much harder than I thought.

Do you know what it's like to hate yourself? to wish that maybe tomorrow some prick will get a lucky shot? I thinkknow you of all ponies can relate to

no

Gulfstream could.

Tomorow, everything chnges, for better or for worse. And just in cse I don't make it out alive, I wat you to know.

Sorry. Stupid quill. Stupid mouth. Stupid hooves.

Stupid me.

Fleur. Thank you. For being there. For keeping me standing. For doing what Silty couldn't anymore. Without you I would have

Don't forgive me. don't ever. I know you will, because you're better than me, but you shouldn't and dont and

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I hope things work out. I hope I don't live to find out.

I'm sorry. I'm srry. Im sory. m sory Im sorry. Don't evver blame yourslf for what I did I'm so fucking sorry I stil see her wy wont sh e scream Im sorrplease luna take the nightmares away sorry bitch so sorry so small sco loo

---

It's okay. I'm okay.

I'm just

so sorry

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

June 12 12, 1007

Final excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007

Caballeron thought it a peculiar thing. He’d visited cities all over the world, and yet somehow he’d failed to visit the capital of his homeland. Canterlot had to be the most unusual city in the world. It was full of the arrogant and unpleasant jerks of cultural metropolises like Manehattan, yet there was little sign of a downtrodden and angry lower class. Its buildings rose tall beneath the shadow of the Lonely Mountain like the Stalliongrad, proud in their phallic ego, and yet somehow managed to make it look good. The city was clean and pristine like Riverwood, but still achieved an appearance of modernness.

It was rare that he could say it, but Canterlot truly was a city like no other.

Yet he wasn’t here to sightsee, and he’d barely had time to register his thoughts before Fleur had escorted him into Canterlot Castle. Not a single guard so much as batted an eye when she hurried into a section clearly closed to the public. He followed, wary of those spears, but it seemed they’d been expecting him.

Canterlot city was unique, but Canterlot Castle was like any other he’d visited. He paid little mind to the tapestries and vaulted ceilings, instead focusing on the mare in front of him. “Don’t you want to take a moment to settle down, relax your hooves? You’re finally home.”

Fleur’s steps were solid and loud in the near-empty hallway, echoing her businesslike attitude. “The Mane Archon’s instructions were clear: I’m to take you to him immediately.”

So much for delaying the inevitable. His saddlebags felt hot and heavy as he considered the thing hidden within. Months of waiting, all for this. Why was the Mane Archon so eager to meet him, of all ponies? A slew of questions, all of which had been asked a hundred times before, swam through his head. Should he be worried? Eager? Afraid?

“Don’t you have anything to give me?” he asked, hurrying to keep up with Fleur’s longer stride. “A clue as to how to behave, an idea of what to expect?”

“No.”

Her lack of details was infuriating! He huffed and tried to think positive thoughts. If only Silty were still in his head. Hay, he’d take that old devil if it meant a distraction from the coming meeting. And after that… Celestia?

No greater mystery existed than why Celestia also wanted to see him. Caballeron had dealt with royalty before, but this was different. Kings and Queens didn’t move celestial objects on a daily basis. Surely there had to be some sort of protocol to this. Granted, he’d never been one for protocol, but it wouldn’t hurt to know how to behave before a being that could turn him into a cinder with a raised eyebrow.

They soon moved into an ominous portion of the castle, although it seemed to have been made that way intentionally. The marble appeared tinted to a darker hue and black curtains hung over the windows. Caballeron had heard of this place. The Nocturnal Wing, in which the Nightmare resided. A creeping chill ran along his spine and down his legs. Where they going to meet her? He dearly hoped not. He’d faced down undead, cursed souls, wild animals and strange beasts, but to face the Mother of All Night herself?

“Why are we here?”

“You know why.”

He focused on Fleur once more, ignoring the darkness all around. “You mean your offices are in the Nocturnal Wing?”

“Not originally.” She glanced back, perhaps checking to ensure he was keeping up. “The Mane Archon moved us here about a year after Luna returned.”

Luna? Ah, the alter ego of the Nightmare. The kind face to mask the monster. “And… how likely are we to meet it?”

She turned on a dime, blocking his path with her body, and he had to rear back to keep from running into her. Stepping away, he opened his mouth to snap at her.

Her cold glare stopped him short. “Do not disrespect Luna. Not in front of Fine Crime, or Octavia. Especially not in front of Gulfstream. Consider it vital to your health.”

Her hard eyes were more than enough warning. Ears folded and shoulders stiff, he nodded. “Got it. Not a word.”

“Good.” She stared at him for a few seconds longer, then continued to lead. They arrived at a blue-coated door not long after, identical to all the others in the hallway. “Are you ready?”

Refusing to appear as worried as he felt, Caballeron stood tall and nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

A brief glance, and she was at the door. It opened before she could knock, and she entered without hesitation. Caballeron took a moment to settle his nerves, taking a few slow breaths and licking his lips before following.

He entered what appeared to be a living room. Sparsely decorated, yet tastefully so. His hooves sank into lush crimson carpet and the furniture was made of dark wood with red velvet cushions. A fireplace sat unlit in the corner and a small chandelier hung overhead, only half-lit to keep the room in a dim lighting. It seemed the Mane Archon liked his darkness.

Spotting Fleur’s tail disappearing through a nearby doorway, he hurried onwards. He could feel the alicorn amulet bouncing against his side within its bag. To be rid of the thing would be a welcome relief.

The Mane Archon’s office was more brightly illuminated than the last room, but only a little. Its walls were of wood paneling, one completely taken up by a massive bookshelf and another with a wide rack of potions labeled in what appeared to be code. The desk, much smaller than he’d anticipated, was made of a familiar dark stone. An impressive sight; Caballeron had seen granite-topped desks, but to see an entire desk made from the stuff?

And behind that desk, scribbling in a scroll with quill and ink, was the stallion himself. Fine was tall, but not near as tall as Fleur. Skinny too, but unhealthily so. Trying to gauge his musculature was tricky, because the stallion had a hodgepodge coat of mixed browns that defied study. His mane was black, but the shine of it suggested a recent dye job. Were this any other pony on the street, Caballeron might have thought it the decision of some immature fool thinking black was cool.

Fine Crime wore a simple black vest lined in red over a white, buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled back. His horn glowed a soft red as he continued his work without looking up. Fleur sat before him, silently waiting to be acknowledged. With a lack of guidance, Caballeron elected to join her.

All was quiet save for the scratching of the quill. Fine Crime’s brow was knit and his jaw set, frustration radiating from his every motion. Only when his quill ran out of ink did he speak. “You’re a few months late.”

Caballeron bristled at that cold tone, but Fleur only nodded. “We ran into some complications.”

“Do you know why?” Still, the Mane Archon didn’t look up. He set his quill in the inkpot and pushed the scroll aside. His motions were slow. Deliberate.

Fleur closed her eyes and sighed. “Trixie.”

“No.”

Her calm demeanor cracked. Ears perking, she straightened up a little and gave him a quizzical look. “No?”

“No.” At last Fine looked up, but not at her. A steely, red gaze met Caballeron’s, and he felt as though something had grabbed hold of his heart. He’d been on the receiving end of many a dark look, but nothing quite like this. Caballeron couldn’t even grasp why Fine’s expression made his knees tremble. He just knew that he’d rather be anywhere than at the center of the Mane Archon’s attention right now.

Fleur glanced at Caballeron, lips pursed, but was clearly at a loss. “Then… why?”

At last, Fine released him from that powerful glare. “You bucked up,” he said, banging his hoof on the desk as he looked to Fleur. “You bucked up royally. I’m sure you guessed that being assigned this mission was a test.”

Fleur nodded hesitantly. “Yes, but I couldn’t figure out how.”

With a heavy sigh, Fine stood and began to pace behind the desk. “I should have known. Celestia played it too deeply, didn’t make things clear enough. Of course you wouldn’t notice the end goal. And now the test only gets worse.”

A grimace marred Fleur’s pretty face. “I knew Celestia was involved. I know she wants it to be painful. But I couldn’t tell what her real goal was.”

At last, Caballeron felt driven to speak. “The goal? The goal was to get the Alicorn Amulet. Which we have, and I would very much appreciate it if you’d take the foul thing and send me on my way.”

Fine turned to him. “This isn’t about the amulet, Caballeron.” He raised his head a little, appearing as if he’d forgotten something. “Caballeron. Fine Crime. I wish I could say it’s a pleasure, but the circumstances aren’t exactly pleasant.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Caballeron looked to Fleur, but she appeared lost in her own world, chewing her lip and brushing her mane anxiously. Trying to solve Celestia’s puzzle, no doubt. He returned his attention to Fine. “Do you want the amulet or not?”

Fine waved a dismissive hoof. “In time. You’ve got far bigger things to worry about.” He turned to Fleur. “Caballeron was the test all along, Fleur.”

“I don’t understand.” Her shoulders slumped. “He helped me find the amulet. He dealt with Daring Do. He even wasted the last few months with me near Ponyville.”

Fine’s voice regained its ominous nature from before. “Is A.K. Yearling still alive?”

Caballeron and Fleur exchanged uncertain expressions. She looked to Fine. “Yes?”

“And that’s where you messed up.”

“Wait a minute.” Caballeron stepped forward, prompting Fine’s attention. “What does Yearling have to do with this?”

“Everything and nothing.” The Mane Archon pointed at him. “This is about you. This has always been about you.” He resumed his pacing, paying no mind to Caballeron’s peering stare. “The Archons keep growing since I took this job. I needed another lieutenant, another member of the Order. But Celestia figured out the list of candidates.”

“What?” Fleur stomped and snorted. “I made that gem server myself! How could she have gotten past the security measures?”

“She didn’t need to.” He waved a dismissive hoof, still not looking at either of them. “All she had to do was ask somepony with access.”

Fleur’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not a lot of ponies.”

Fine whipped around to glare at her. “We’re not blaming them for this! Could you say no to Celestia in her face?”

While Fleur glowered and refused to answer, Caballeron put a few last pieces of the puzzle together. “So I am being recruited.” He couldn’t resist a small smile. “And you two treated it as a joke.”

“We knew you were right,” Fleur grumbled. “That doesn’t negate the ego issue, Cruelles.”

“Yes, you were a candidate,” Fine acknowledged, sitting by his desk with a leg resting on it. “But I hadn’t decided yet. Celestia chose for me, and she chose you. You two have history.”

“History?” Caballeron chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve never even met the princess.”

Fine shrugged. “Take it up with her.”

Fleur stomped once more. “You still haven’t explained how I failed her test! Why was him killing Yearling so important?”

Her boss responded by slamming his hoof on the table, the force of the bang putting her stomp to shame. “You were supposed to test Caballeron yourself! Think about it, Fleur. Celestia relishes misery. That’s what you were meant to nurture in him.”

“How was I supposed to… Oh.” With wide eyes, she turned her attention to Caballeron. “You were supposed to kill her. And I just stood aside.”

“Why?” Caballeron brushed his mane back and rubbed his neck. He now had some exceptionally powerful ponies watching him, and he half-wished he could be back home and away from all this nonsense. “Killing Yearling wouldn’t have done anything. That’s why I didn’t.” Well, maybe it was a bit more complicated than that…

Fine’s eyes narrowed. His voice slowed. He spoke as a narrator announcing the coming climax of a dark play. “You were meant to goad him. To remind him of all the things Yearling did. To nurture his hatred and weed out his doubts. Twist him from the better nature still hiding beneath the brute on the surface, remind him of his long lost love who will never know glory because of one mare who, no matter what he did, would always be his better. You have all the skills needed to entice a stallion to animosity, and you were expected to use them.”

Fleur shrank under his scrutiny. “B-but… How was I supposed to know that?”

His glare didn’t so much as twitch. “She’s Celestia. That should be more than enough of a hint.”

“Now hold on!” Caballeron stood between the two Archons and stared Fine down. “You can’t blame her for not figuring out what Celestia wanted based on that alone.”

Only when Fine turned his glower to him did it dawn upon Caballeron that he was standing up to a pony who might be even more capable than Fleur in creative methods of murder. They called the Mane Archon Celestia’s Dark Hoof, and that pony was giving him a look about as effective as a spear to the chest. He hesitated, wondering if he shouldn’t have just left well enough alone.

And then he mentally slapped himself. He couldn’t not support Fleur. She wasn’t just some filly he’d met, played with and walked away from. She was…

His friend.

He met Fine’s gaze, chest out and shoulders back. “You can’t punish her.”

Fine snorted. “I can do whatever I want, and there’s only one pony in all of Equestria who can stop me.” But then he sat back, expression softening. “And yet… yeah. Fleur’s been punished enough as is.”

Caballeron’s ears perked, all his bravado fading in the light of his surprise. “She has?”

“Yep.” Fine looked to Fleur, who was currently peering at Caballeron as if he were a puzzle she thought she’d figured out until just now. “Consider yourself lucky, Fleur. Your failure to read Celestia like an open book has made her bored of you, and she probably won’t do anything to you. This time.”

Disengaging from a close examination that had been making Caballeron gradually more nervous, Fleur sighed and nodded to Fine. “That is indeed good to hear. I assume I’ll be on regular duties effective immediately?”

“That’s right. But as for you.” He gestured to Caballeron. “You failed Celestia’s test. However, since Celestia considers the test to have not been properly administered, she’s demanding a retake.”

With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Caballeron asked, “Is there any chance I could just say ‘no thanks’ and go home?” He ignored Fleur’s facehoof.

“Of course there is.” Fine smiled in the manner of one explaining to a child why the sky is blue. “But then, Celestia will consider this a personal affront and almost certainly call for you to have an ‘accident’ within the month. Probably just before you reach Estéril Pezuñas, to give you the impression of hope.”

He stood and walked around the desk, headed for the door. “Come. The Princess knows you’ve arrived and will be waiting for you. Fleur? I’d suggest you stay out of this one.”

Fleur hesitated, then looked to Caballeron. She said nothing, but her concerned expression spoke for her: ‘I will come with you if you want me to.’

“Right.”He turned from her. “It’s been a pleasure, Fleur. I really mean that.” He followed the Mane Archon out, closing the door behind him to ensure she would get the message. She was on thing ice as it was, and he wouldn’t let her throw away the out she’d been given. Still, her unspoken offer left him with a warm feeling in his chest. A few months ago, he was sure she’d have never considered offering it. Nor would he have expected it.

It was a curious thing, expecting somepony to want to help. Even curiouser was expecting them to want to help for no personal gain. He’d not experienced such a thing since Silty died.

He missed it.

Fine led him out of his office – and personal living space? – and into the Nocturnal Wing. Rather than go deeper into the dark section of the castle, he brought Caballeron back into the main portion. “I notice you and Fleur have become close.”

Caballeron, walking just a step behind and to the side, glanced over, but Fine wasn’t looking at him. “We’ve become friends.” He abruptly recalled that this stallion had raised Fleur, and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. Fleur could use more friends.” Now Fine returned the glance. “Just make sure she doesn’t regret opening up to you.”

Despite the stallion’s calm, neutral tone, Caballeron kept his stance low and peered. “I take it that’s a threat?”

He anticipated some kind of ominous response. The Mane Archon had proven very capable of those so far. But instead, he was startled to hear Fine laugh.

“Caballeron,” he replied in the most pleasant tone he’d held since they’d met, “I don’t have to threaten you. We’re talking about Fleur. If you upset her, me threatening you is moot.” He sobered, but didn’t lose the smile. “I may be her boss, but in terms of strength both physical and magical, she’s my better. Especially magical. And I’m sure you’ve seen what she’s like when irked.”

That was a curious and somewhat worrying reveal. And indeed, Caballeron had had a front row seat to Fleur’s fury. The Mane Archon was entirely correct; he didn’t have to do a thing to him if he offended Fleur. She could do plenty on her own.

But Caballeron had no intention of betraying Fleur’s trust. In her own way, intentionally or not, her presence had helped him. What would he have done after Giulgiul’s Shame if she had simply left him on his own? Bury himself in mares? Drown himself in alchohol? Or just waste away in his old townhouse, growing old and alone and miserable. But Fleur had given him a direction to go, a goal to meet, even a companion to talk to.

She’d been a distraction from the loss of his motivation. She’d occupied his mind long enough to let him get over the shock of Yearling and what not killing her meant, even if he’d never found an answer. It was likely she’d never intended to keep him on the straight and narrow – well, as straight and narrow as it gets for Archons. But whatever her intentions, for the first time in a long time he felt… normal, and he owed that to her. It wasn’t ‘happy’, but it was a big improvement from where he’d been this last decade.

While in his own world, they’d walked deep into the castle, steadily rising higher and higher. He pulled his mind from Fleur and focused on the task ahead. “So what is this test Celestia’s got for me?”

“Can’t say. She told me not to.” Fine now held a deep frown, his brow a mess of furrows as he glared straight ahead. “But I’ll tell you this: it’s one of the crueler things I’ve seen her do.”

Humming, Caballeron tried to imagine what was coming. He came up blank. “You, Fleur and Vinyl made it abundantly clear to me that she wants me miserable. Still, that doesn’t explain what she expects me to get out of this. There’s got to be more than just me being unhappy.”

Fine’s frown turned thoughtful as he considered the topic. “Celestia is a vain creature. She wants everypony to look at her, to know what she is and what she’s done. The majority of Equestria knows her as a divine goddess of good.” A snort made his opinion on that idea very clear. “But that image doesn’t highlight her other deeds, the bad ones, and those are the ones she’s proudest of.”

Speaking as a teacher lecturing a student, Fine concluded, “What Celestia wants from you is your hatred. You’ve made the mistake of largely ignoring her throughout your life, not seeing her as good or bad. If you are going to qualify as an Archon – and especially as a member of the Order – you must hate her with all your soul.”

The concept seemed so… dull. Caballeron made a show of examining the hallway’s opulent décor as he spoke. “That’s it? I’ve lived a large chunk of my life hating somepony. I’m rather accustomed to the experience.”

“Not like this, you’re not.” The quiet warning in Fine’s voice came out crystal clear, though it did nothing to move Caballeron’s opinion. “But regardless, passing the test means hating Celestia at the end of it. I have no doubt you’ll succeed.”

“Right.” Sighing, Caballeron returned his full attention to the Mane Archon. “So what happens after I pass the test?”

Fine looked him up and down before responding. “For the record, I’m not sure you would have been my choice for a new member of the Order of Shadows. But Celestia has spoken, and I am incapable of defying her. Pass the test, and you’ll be given an offer to join us. You will accept, and be trained in all you need to know and do.”

Caballeron raised an eyebrow at the confident tone. “And should I not accept?”

“If it were up to me, you’d just walk away. But since Celestia picked you out, refusal will probably reward you with a kill order. I doubt you’d last ‘till sunrise.”

Celestia didn’t deal in half-measures, did she? It was a shame. Caballeron didn’t have anything tying him to life, so if the grand scheme of things what would death matter? Yet his natural desire to live far outweighed his apathy, and as such the decision had been made for him. So he resigned himself to fate. At least this would be better than wasting the rest of his life without a direction or goal.

Still, he doubted Celestia could do much to him. He had little to care about, so what could she possibly take from him?

“This is the place.” Fine paused before a simple wooden door. They had to have been a dozen stories up at this point, surely the highest they could go without being in one of the towers. “And where I take my leave. You handle the rest on your own.”

Caballeron studied the door. He probably should have felt some apprehension, but the only sensation running through his mind right now was boredom. “Alright, then. Guess I’ll see you later.” He reached for the handle.

“Cruelles.”

Fine met his gaze with a calm, sad expression. “When you leave this room, you’ll be a changed stallion. Try to keep Silty in mind. Maybe it’ll help.” He turned and walked away, unaware of Caballeron's scowl.

As if he had any right to talk about Silty like that! But Caballeron bit his tongue. There were far more important things to worry about right now, such as surviving the next few minutes. Hopefully whatever Celestia had in store for him would be quick. With a grumble, he pushed the door open.

The room was substantial in size, two stories tall and wide enough to fit a couple hundred ponies. It was bare, the marble stones unadorned and not even covered with the usual polish that made them appear seamless in the rest of the castle. The back wall was made up of arched windows that rose almost to the ceiling, revealing a pristine view of the plains and forests far below the Lonely Mountain. He could even make out the large speck that was Ponyville.

And there, sitting on a tall stone chair against the left wall, was the Princess of the Sun herself. She was every bit as radiant as the stories claimed, not that he’d ever doubted them, but he remained as unimpressed as ever. Oh, sure, her mane billowed with all the colors of a sunrise and her body and face could be the source of ravishing dreams, but they mattered little to a stallion who had already met and lost the love of his life.

What was interesting, however, was the foal nestled in her lap. A pegasus filly, orange with a sort of pinkish-purple mane, who trembled as the princess calmly stroked her back.

Celestia beamed at Caballeron as if he were an old friend. “Buenos días, Mr. Caballeron! I must say, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“I’m sure it is,” Caballeron replied in a cynical tone. He stood a dozen feet from her and bowed – if only for the sake of not angering her right away. “Princess. I hear you have some sort of test for me.”

She chuckled, and Caballeron was almost sure he heard wind chimes in there somewhere. Weird effect, that. When next she spoke, it was entirely in Palabras del Sur. “As direct as they say. Oh, do say hello to little Scion Beacon here, won’t you?”

Caballeron raised an eyebrow. Scion? Had he only thought the child a filly? Regardless, he nodded to her. “Hello, kid.”

Still speaking the language of the south, she continued, “Scootaloo to anypony who doesn’t know her. She changed her name a while back.” Another chiming chuckle. The filly didn’t respond to her words or Caballeron’s greeting, only stared at him with round, glassy eyes while her tiny wings shivered. Celestia kept petting her, as if she were a pet kitten.

Ever smiling and pleasant, Celestia returned her attention to him. “So, have you the amulet?”

Oh, right. He’d forgotten all about it. He promptly retrieve the Alicorn Amulet from his saddlebags, displaying it with a lone hoof as if in offering. Since she seemed insistent on speaking his native tongue, he decided to do the same. “One ancient artifact, as ordered.”

“Ah, excellent.” Celestia caught the amulet in her golden aura. She gave it only a moment’s inspection, as though it were a mere curiosity, then set it on the armrest of her chair. “Well done, Mr. Caballeron. And now let us proceed to why we are here.”

“Good.” He stood up, stretched, and rolled his shoulders. “I’d like to get this test over with, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no no.” Tsking and shaking her head, Celestia gestured for him to sit once more. “It’s far too early for that. As I said, we have to discuss why you are here. Then we’ll get to your test. Honestly, Mr. Caballeron, you have to take time and enjoy the little things.”

It took great effort not to groan at Celestia suggestion. Slumping to his haunches, he gestured. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

“So hasty.” Another shake of the head. Her smile returned, so pleasant and sunny Caballeron thought it might make him sick. “Don’t you have any questions for me before we start?”

Questions? Why would he have questions? He just wanted to pass her stupid test and do whatever he was supposed to do after. Join the Archons, apparently. That idea might have horrified him once, but at the moment he couldn’t work up the energy to care.

Wait… there was one question. “The Mane Archon. He said you and I have had dealings in the past. I’ve never met you before, so what the hay was he talking about?” Now that he thought on it, Fine’s mentioning that couldn’t have been incidental.

“Oh!” She clapped her hooves, the ringing of her hoofguards echoing in the empty space. “I’m so glad you asked! But first, I have to explain the background. It’s a long and tedious story, but I’ll try to stick to the highlights.” She leaned forward with all the excitement of a foal at Hearth’s Warming. “Tell me, Mr. Caballeron, do you have any theories as to why the Jackal kingdom disappeared?”

The jackals? What did they have to do with anything? Still, if this discussion was going to go into ancient history, he wouldn’t complain. “Nopony knows, that’s why they are so fascinating to historians and archaeologists. A once-mighty kingdom of builders and thinkers just up and disappeared 900 years ago for no apparent reason.”

“Ah, but there is a reason,” she corrected with no small joy. “You see, the jackals didn’t like how I was running things in Equestria back then. They saw me spreading my influence and recognized the trouble I was causing. They starting fighting the narrative I was working so hard to create.

“So I had to make an example of them.”

He blinked, not sure he’d heard that quite right. “An… example?”

“Indeed.” She pressed her forehooves together just beneath her chin as her smile grew… wicked. “I wasn’t a quarter as strong then as I am now, and the jackals were a serious threat with their armies and their happy populace and their righteousness. So I had their leaders assassinated, then invaded during the confusion. They put up a good fight. Not as good as the changelings, not by a long shot, but still enjoyable. They did everything by the book and always planned long term. So I moved fast, overwhelmed their grinding bureaucratic methods, and took over the whole of their lands within a decade.

“And then?” Her eyes took on a faraway look, glassy and enraptured. “I slaughtered them. The dogs. The bitches. The puppies. It was glorious. Sometimes, if I try hard enough, I can still hear their howls and begging. Sometimes I did it en mass, sometimes individuals. Sometimes fast, but slow when I could. Fed them to one another, fed them to other races. Ate a little myself, just to try it.” Her face twisted into a grimace. “Ponies just aren’t meant to eat meat, I’m afraid. Still, a worthwhile experiment.”

Caballeron chuckled, to which she only cocked her head and smiled expectantly. He looked up at her with a dry smile. “That’s a nice tale, Princess. Really. But it’s just an attempt to shock and disgust me. I have no reason to believe a word of it.”

She resumed petting Scootaloo, who whined at the attention. The filly wouldn’t stop staring at Caballeron. Her wide-eyed, pleading expression was more unnerving than the princess’s story by far.

“I understand why you’d think that,” Celestia admitted. “It wasn’t until after the deed was done that I came up with my plan to live forever as the ‘source of all things good in the world’. That too was just a scheme, of course, conjured up so that no governing body like the jackals would ever see the need to defy me again. As I said, back then there was a legitimate chance that somepony out there could defeat me in battle, so I had to learn to be cautious.” She pouted. “I’d like to abandon the whole façade and let loose like I did in the Crystal Rebellion, but that would make my rule boring after a while.”

Caballeron cocked his head. “So… is that it? We done here?”

Tittering, Celestia waved a dismissive hoof. “Oh, Cruelles, you are entertaining. I told you, I’m just setting up the background.” Settling back in her seat, hoof scratching Scootaloo’s ear, she continued. “Now, you can imagine that, to maintain my new image of good, I had to either erase my old deeds or have them attributed to somepony else.”

He sighed, resigning himself to an overlong explanation of things that probably weren’t true. “Of course.”

Celestia smirked. It was the look of a pony who was about to drop a bucket of ice water on a sleeping friend’s head. Her horn sparked, and something flashed into existence before her. Caballeron peered at it and realized quickly that it was a piece of sandstone. Without a word, Celestia levitated the object until it hovered before him. Annoyed and disinterested, he nevertheless took the object in his hooves.

Only now did he realize that it was a tablet. It held words in a language he’d not seen in almost fourteen years. As he read, slowly and carefully, he realized he recognized the words. The sentences. The markings. His heart began to pound and his breathing slowed. It was perfect. Just like he remembered. Except…

“Th-this tablet.” He looked to the princess. “It’s from Pawtlpotl. The first one we pulled from that house.” He studied it once more, breathless in his excitement. “B-but it was damaged. Defaced. Somepony changed the letters! This… this is perfectly intact.”

Celestia said nothing as he studied the tablet from every angle, trying to find some clue as to its fakeness. But he could find none. For all he could tell, this was the original. “How?” He looked up once more, gratefulness and joy filling him to his core. “How did you do this?”

“I didn’t.” She chuckled and shook her head. “I simply had the originals replaced.”

“Replaced?” He looked from her to the tablet. Her again. The tablet. His joy gradually faded to something else. Something… darker. “You… you framed Yearling.”

“Of course not.” She grinned, looking for all the world like she was celebrating a long-coming victory. “I framed you.”

The air left his lungs. His saw Yearling staring at him at the guard station as they carried him away, the horror and loss in her gaze. All the years of foul thoughts, of a hunt for revenge that grew less and less rewarding with every passing chase, the empty nights nursing his hatred. Chasing, Fleur, the Firesands. His career, destroyed. His happiness, ruined. His mare…

He met her gaze, entire body going tense. He dropped the tablet, not even flinching when it banged on the floor. “Did you kill Silty?”

Back came Celestia’s pout. She sighed and shook her head. “Sadly, no. That was a legitimate accident. Maybe if I’d acted a little sooner, but fate beat me to the buck that time.”

The world rocked as Caballeron’s knees wobbled. His entire life, ruined. One way or another, this… this bitch was responsible for everything! “Why?”

Celestia rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I just told you why.”

He stomped a step closer. “Y-you could have told me! I could have continued my work but kept the secret. Why go through all that trouble for… for…”

That chiming laugh again. “Oh, you don’t understand me at all, do you? I did it because it was fun, you silly pony.”

Another step closer. He seethed, and for once he didn’t need some demon lurking in the back of his mind to show his fury. “How much of my life have you been manipulating? How many bad coincidences? What all have you done?”

“Nothing.” Celestia purred, stroking Scootaloo’s back in a perfectly relaxed pose. “I didn’t have to do anything. The framing was enough. After that it was just keeping tabs and watching the fireworks. I made sure to have Fine update me on your progress whenever you did something interesting. You’ve been a wonderful demonstration of self-destructive urges.”

He wanted to call her out, to insist that her declaration was a lie. Yet he couldn’t. He knew the truth in it. Every bad decision, every act of loathing that pushed him further and further down the path of hatred. All his own doing.

The anger deteriorated. He slumped, chin almost touching the floor as he at last fully understood his own wretchedness. He’d chased Yearling’s tail for so, so long. And for what? “I really am a terrible pony.”

“Oh, you are.” Her horn lit up. “And now it’s time to prove it.”

Scootaloo was encased in gold. She squirmed as the magic levitated her into the air, tears streaking down her cheeks while she shook her head frantically.

Caballeron stood up and eyed the filly, worry eating its way into his heart. “W-what are you going to do?”

“Oh, not me. You.” Celestia let Scootaloo hover between them, the filly kicking wildly. Whimpers, perhaps screams, were muffled by her ever-closed mouth. Caballeron could only assume she was under some sort of spell keeping it that way. “This filly is my test for you.”

“A filly?” He took a step back, meeting the child’s wide eyes. “Why a filly? What am I supposed to do?”

The wicked smile came back. Celestia tapped the armrest of her chair for a moment. “You were supposed to embrace your hatred for Yearling, only to learn of her innocence after. You failed to do that. So I had to devise something else. Something deeply personal. Something so important to you that it would tear you apart inside far worse than what might have happened. A harsher test, as punishment for failing the first.”

“You haven’t answered my question.” He pointed at Scootaloo. “What am I supposed to do with her?”

“Kill her.”

She said it with such calm simplicity, she might as well have told him to take out the trash. He cocked his head at the filly, who trembled from head to hoof. “Why?”

Celestia didn’t lose the pleasant smile. “Because I told you to.”

Rubbing his forehead, frustrated by her apparent desire to make every little thing a game. “No, I mean, why? You said my test would be something personal to me. I don’t know who this filly is. What’s personal about this?” Maybe if she understood how silly this idea was, he could avoid it entirely. Caballeron wasn’t in the business of murdering foals. Who did she take him for, King Sombra?

She raised a hoof high. “Oh, right. Forgot you’re not too bright.” Leering at his scowl, she levitated Scootaloo closer to herself and gestured to her as if she were a trophy. “This, Caballeron, is no filly. It’s an abomination against nature. Her father was a unicorn.”

Oh. So the filly was a half-breed. Well, that certainly explained Celestia’s disdain.

“Her mother was an earth pony.”

He grimaced; combined genes of all three races? The poor thing was doomed from birth, wasn’t she? He wondered if there was any hope he could get her out of this mess. To his grim displeasure, he knew the answer was ‘probably not’.

“So tell me, my friend…” Celestia leaned forward to eye him closely. “What was Silt Eyes?”

What was Silty? She was… “Oh.”

Celestia nodded, her smile gone entirely. In its place was a cold, neutral expression. “You were going to bring an aberration like this to my world, weren’t you? This, Caballeron, is the freak you would have brought upon my Equestria.”

He stomped his hoof and shook his head hard. “She’s not my child!”

“But she could have been. This foal represents the sin you were prepared to enact with your hideous union.” Celestia used her hoof to tilt the weeping Scootaloo’s face towards him. “Look at her. Look at her face. So normal. So innocent. She did nothing wrong. Nothing at all. But she was born, and that is something I won’t tolerate. The races were never meant to intermingle. You used to think that, didn’t you?”

He did. By the Goddess, he did. Vinyl had introduced to him the wrongness of that idea, but it didn’t change the fact that he used to think it without ever considering the consequences of his relationship with Silty. And this foal, this… Scootaloo. She shouldn’t mean anything to him. She didn’t mean anything to him. But… to murder a child…

“I…” He licked his lips, unable to look away from that pleading face. “I can’t…”

Celestia spoke slow and quiet, her calm gaze failing to conceal the danger within her words. “So tell me, Caballeron. If you had a foal with that unicorn friend of yours… would you have protected it? Kept it from my sight, nurtured it, loved it as if it were a real pony, and let it out into my world as if it actually belonged there?”

He knew the answer. Knew the answer she wanted. He knew it was the wrong answer. But, as he stared into Scootaloo’s pleading eyes, as he thought about the idea of a little unicorn filly running about his legs, of a Silty in the hospital nursing a newborn earth pony colt, of watching that impossible child grow up under his care… he knew there could never be any other answer.

“Yes.” He met Celestia’s gaze, silently pleading with her. “I would.”

For the longest time, she just stared at him. Cold. Quiet. Mane billowing and eyes hard.

Then the smiled. “Good.”

The golden magic swung Scootaloo at a wide angle, smashing her face-first against the hard stone floor. Caballeron gasped, took a step forward, but didn’t dare come any closer. He watched, heart in his throat, as the filly squirmed on the floor as if something were pressing down on her. Squishing her.

Celestia pointed to the windows. “She can’t fly with her mutant wings. Throw her out the window.”

He didn’t have to think on it. He stepped back and shook his head.

Celestia’s smile widened. She raised her leg forward, as if seeking a hoofbump. Scootaloo was flung from the floor and into it, her head snapping sideways as the golden hoofguard impacted her cheek. Caballeron grit his teeth and flinched.

“Kill her.”

“I won’t!”

The magic released the filly, only to come back around just her wing. It swung her violently to the side, as if cracking a whip. The sharp retort of cracking bone filled the air, and even with her mouth sealed closed, Scootaloo’s scream filled his ears.

“Do it.”

He shook his head frantically. “Stop!”

Still holding Scootaloo by the broken wing, the magic flung her into the ceiling.

“Do it!”

“Stop it!”

Scootaloo dropped to the floor in a heap, blood smearing the stones.

“Do it!”

“I can’t!” He took two steps closer, froze. Tears welled in his eyes at the sight of the slow-moving child. “P-please. I can’t.”

Celestia stomped on the child’s back, eliciting a muffled cry. Scootaloo’s wing stretched taught.

“Do it,” Celestia hissed. The corner of her lip peeled back as she sneered. “She doesn’t die unless you kill her. And until you do…”

The wing twisted, different parts moving in different directions. Multiple snaps and cracks made Caballeron cringe, but not as much as Scootaloo’s close-mouthed shrieks. She looked up at him with tiny pupils, a begging, piteous look.

“I can do this for a long, long time.”

Gritting his teeth, Caballeron considered his options. Killing the foal would be a mercy, but—

Celestia’s magic plucked a tailhair from Scootaloo, making the filly flinch.

—if he did that, then… He couldn’t think it. He couldn’t think about killing—

Another pluck, another whimper.

—that child. Every part of his mind argued against it. But if he didn’t—

Pluck. Whimper.

—then this would continue. It would. Celestia wouldn’t start this and not—

Pluck. Squirm.

—finish it. If the poor child died from the torture, she’d just find another. Only now—

Pluck. Muffled sob.

—did he understand her depravity. He had listened to Fleur and Vinyl, but—

Pluck. Whimper.

—he’d not really grasped it. And now, now he was—

Pluck.

“For fucks sake!” He charged, only to slam against a yellow, crackling shield. He pressed against it and tried to send every seething bubble of the hatred boiling inside him to her through his eyes. “Leave her alone for five seconds!”

Celestia grinned.

Pluck. Whimper.

“You can’t make me do this!”

The Princess laughed, and this time it was a cold sound. She laughed and laughed, took in his snarl and laughed some more.

Pluck.

“Oh, Cruelles, you really are simple!”

Pluck.

“I’m not making you do anything.”

Pluck.

“It’s entirely up to you how long it takes for this creature to die.”

Pluck.

“You will kill her entirely of your own volition.”

Pluck.

He banged his hoof against her barrier. “How am I supposed to do that if you won’t let me get near her?”

Another laugh, mercifully short.

Pluck.

“You can’t outwit me, Cruelles. I know you haven’t committed to the idea at all.”

Pluck.

“Stop it!” He fell to his knees, clawing at the barrier even as he met Scootaloo’s gaze. “Leave her alone!”

“Yes. Because it’ll be that easy.”

Scootaloo abruptly flew forward from beneath Celestia’s hoof, impacting the barrier with legs splayed out. She let out a stifled cry as all six of her limps stretched to their physical limits, the unnatural joints in her wing cracking and popping.

“Please!” Tears dripped from his chin as he grasped for the child who wasn’t more than an inch away. “Please, stop!”

There came a sizzling sound, and Scootaloo shrieked through her closed lips. Her cheek darkened, smoked, turned black as the emblem of the sun became branded into it.

“I’ll do anything! Anything!”

The shield cracked, then shattered with enough force to knock him off his hooves. He jumped up and turned to find Scootaloo lying on the floor, limp and hyperventilating through her nose. Her face was twisted in a grimace of agony, the last of the smoke floating up from her cheek. Celestia stood over her, smiling impishly in her victory.

One of the windows to the outside opened. “You have thirty seconds.”

Caballeron didn’t think. His every instinct was to save Scootaloo from any more abuse, and there was one sure, fast way to end her life quickly without having to witness it. He rushed to the wretched child, snatched her in his hooves, and ran for the window. Sliding to a stop, the wind billowing against his face, he took her in his arms and hurried to whisper “I am so sorry” before throwing her out the window.

And that was that. It was done. He stared at the horizon, the image of the filly falling silently out of sight replaying in his head again and again. All the crimes he’d committed, all the darkness that had lingered in his heart, but this? Nothing had prepared him for the empty feeling this left in him. A numbness ran through his every nerve as cold reality sank in. He’d always been a bad pony, but now he felt like he’d graduated to the status of monster. He sank to his haunches and closed his eyes tight, trying to will the feeling of the foal’s coat against his—

“Time’s up.”

A flash. A muffled cry.

Caballeron jerked about, heart slamming against his ribs at the sight of Scootaloo floating in the air not a foot from Celestia. “No!”

Scootaloo’s foreleg straightened and strained as Celestia smiled warmly. “What? I said thirty seconds.” Muscles lengthened and strained. Scootaloo howled behind sealed lips. “She wasn’t dead yet.”

The leg ripped away, blood spurting and muscle tissue dangling. The filly’s screams intensified as the open wound turned black and smoked, the loose hide shriveling at the rapid cauterization. The smoke didn’t even finish rising before the golden aura faded. Scootaloo didn’t make it to the floor; Celestia struck her with her own leg, turned stiff via magic, so that the filly twirled in midair and landed hard on the stone floor a dozen feet away.

A hideous urgency joined Caballeron’s adrenaline as he galloped to Scootaloo’s side. He had to be faster, had to end this now! He pushed the blood-soaked, bruised filly onto her back and wrapped his hooves about her neck. Eyes burning, breath coming in quick gasps, he squeezed. Die. Please, die. Please, please, please… The word repeated in his head, a cruel mantra. Scootaloo barely moved to resist, even as her eyes started to roll back.

Another flash, and she was gone.

“Time’s up again!”

No thoughts were needed. Caballeron spun about and charged. Scootaloo hung limp by Celestia’s side once more, sucking in sharp breaths through her nose and twitching. He didn’t go for her, though. Even as her hind legs became engulfed in yellow flame and her muted screams began anew. He howled and leapt…

And stopped in midair, entire body frozen. His eyes widened as his every muscle refused his commands. A golden aura covered his body, more confining than any shackle. Scootaloo continued to burn, moaning as the flames steadily died down to leave black, charred legs.

“Come now, Cruelles.” Celestia winked cheekily at him. “You really need to work on your aim. Unless you’re trying to hug your Princess, and while I can’t blame you for it, I’m afraid it jut wouldn’t work between us.”

The world spun as he went flying through the air. He hit the wall and screamed as he heard and felt something snap. Spots burst in his vision and hit the floor hard on his shoulder. The pain seared, consuming his hind leg, but he struggled to think past it. Whatever agony he was feeling was nothing compared to what Scootaloo was going through! He blinked away his tears and looked up to see Celestia twirling Scootaloo by her once-good wing, faster and faster until the there came a gut-wrenching rip.

Flung through the air, Scootaloo impacted the floor shoulder first, bounced once, twice, and slid to a stop by the throne not five feet from him. She just lay there, twitching and sucking in slow breaths.

Caballeron moved. The pain in his leg was like a hot poker to the brain, but he ignored it with everything he had. He snatched up the discarded stone tablet, once a priceless piece of archeology, now naught but a tool for mercy. He slammed it down on the filly's head with all his considerable strength. Again and again. “Die! Die! Please, for the love of Elysium, die!”

He saw the blood, and kept pounding.

He heard the crack, and kept pounding.

He felt the resistance of bone fading, and kept pounding.

And pounding

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

He slipped on the blood, fell sideways. The side of his face impacted the hard corner of the stone throne, sending a fresh, biting agony into his face. Just like that, his energy left him, and he let himself lie limp against the seat. Through his burning, blurry vision he could see nothing but a kaleidoscope of pink and red and orange. It cleared for a moment, the Alicorn Amulet coming into view, then blurred again. A high-pitched ringing filled the silence while his breathing steadily slowed. He closed his eyes…

Something like a whine and a sob slipped from his throat, a sound like he’d never heard before. He pushed himself away from the pink and red and orange blur, but barely had his hooves on the floor before he doubled over and vomited. The world spun. He tilted to one side, another, collapsed. His legs quaked and his throat constricted as the sound of flesh failing echoed in his ears over and over and over again.

Another sound broke up the chaos of his mind: hoofsteps, loud and ringing. A gold-clad hoof landed before his muzzle.

“Cruelles, that may have been the single most delightful thing I have witnessed in decades.”

With what little energy he had left, Caballeron tilted his neck to view Celestia standing over him. His eyes were sheathed in gold for but a moment, and then the color faded his vision was clear. Celestia smiled down at him as if she were a schoolfilly ogling her crush. She shuddered with an expression of pure bliss.

“You lasted so much longer than I expected. I thought for sure you’d kill her right away. Congratulations: you have a soul, and you pass my test. I hope we get to do something like this again sometime.” She turned from him as the tears once again impeded his sight. “It’s days like this that reminded me why I love this job.”

Her hoofsteps receded. A door opened and closed.

Caballeron let his cheek hit the floor.

He sobbed until his throat burned like hot coals, and then sobbed some more.

His cheek lay on something soft. Something warm pressed against his side. His eyes flickered open to reveal a off-pink body. “W-what?”

A familiar voice shushed him. “Take your time.”

He felt inclined to follow the advice. His leg burned and his body felt stiff. With a long yawn, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to take in his surroundings. Bare stone, windows on the far wall…

A chill ran across his body. Fresh tears welled up and he curled into a tight ball. It hadn’t been a dream. He’d done it. He’d actually done it. “Oh, Goddess, Silty… What have I b-become?”

“None of that now,” the voice whispered. Fleur. It was Fleur’s voice. “You aren’t responsible for this.”

“Bullshit!” He was on his hooves, stumbling away from her. The instant his back leg touched ground a feeling like a hot knife tore through his knee. He screamed and collapsed, curling into a ball again and sobbing. He could see that filly in his hooves, feel the blood, hear the cracking bone. He pressed his hooves to his face and prayed somepony would do to him what he’d done to her.

Fleur was stroking his mane again. He couldn’t see her, but he didn’t have to. “P-please,” he whispered, “tell me I didn’t do it.”

Her response was soft, but firm. “I will do no such thing.”

Half-snarling, half-weeping, he shoved her hoof away and tried to stand. His legs shook far too much to allow it. His eyes went to the window, and he began crawling for it. Celestia wouldn’t save him. He’d go out there and—

He jerked to a stop. Looking back, he found his tail caught in Fleur’s pink aura. “Let me go.”

She said nothing. Only stared at him with heavy-lidded, pitying eyes.

“Let me go, Fleur.”

Instead, she stepped forward and draped herself over his back. Her extra weight was more than enough to keep him pinned.

He stared at her. She didn’t meet his gaze. Something was happening, something strange and terrible and frothing and rising and—

“Let me go!” He scrambled at the stones, hind leg searing as he fought to get out from beneath her. “Damn you, get off! Off!” He kicked and snarled and cursed, and all along Fleur said not a word. She wouldn’t even look at him, her face hidden behind her mane. He tried rolling over, tried crawling again, attempted to hit her. Nothing worked. He could only squirm in impotence, heart bleeding and breath gasping.

At last, his energy left him. He let his cheek rest on the floor. Sniffling and fighting the tightening in his throat, he stared at the open sky only a few dozen feet away. “P-please,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Don’t make me live with this.”

Still she said nothing, so he went limp and let his mind wander. That proved a mistake, for it brought him to places he didn’t want to visit again. He saw Scootaloo’s face, her pleading purple eyes boring into his own. And those lips… always closed. Always, no matter how hard she screamed. Why had Celestia forced them closed? What benefit did it offer? Perhaps it trapped her grief, compressed it like air within the filly, so that every agonizing moment would be more and more intense and—

He clenched his eyes closed, searching for that little room in the back of his mind. “Silty… Please. H-help me.” He waited, watching, praying for some sort of movement. None came. “I n-need you. I need your g-goodness. Please.” When she failed to appear, he locked himself inside and waited. He couldn’t do this by himself. He needed her. He needed his Silty, his moral compass, his life.

He sat in that room, ignorant of the world beyond its walls. He couldn’t lock out the pain though, no matter how much he wanted to. And when he finally looked up, he saw… a crib? Strange. He and Silty had never…

But the idea was there. It could have been. It should have been. He wanted it to be so.

A false dream. But a good one. Even as it filled him with loss, it also gave him warmth to know that, once upon a time, he’d had a chance. And with that warmth came more images, pictures on the walls. Pictures that moved, like they were windows into another world and life. There, a filly Silty chasing him through the streets, face scrunched up in mock menace. She was big even as a foal.

There, a little older, staring out the window at the rain. He lips moved, and he could almost hear her asking innocent questions. Where did the rain come from? Why did pegasi not control the weather there but did elsewhere? Was it unfair to the clouds in other cities that they couldn’t be where they wanted? Always the curious one, always wanting to know more.

Another picture, Silty standing next to her father. Blushing, unable to meet his eyes in her yellow gown. She said she looked and felt like an elephant. It took him all night and well after the dance was over to come up with the reply “I hope you’ll let me love every inch of you.”

It had been a quiet romance. They rarely spoke of it, rarely acted on it, but when they did…

She never came back, but perhaps she didn’t need to. She’d left him gifts, and he found they were enough to calm his throbbing heart. He wandered that room, now filled with wonderful memories of a mare that he’d almost lost forever. His circling path brought him back to the empty crib, and he stared at it for some time, wondering about things that could have been.

But, gradually, his thoughts went back to the only filly that mattered. Scootaloo… She could have been theirs. In another world, perhaps. And he’d…

No. Not him. He knew he would never forgive himself for the act he’d committed against a mere child, but he also couldn't delude himself. He’d done that for over a decade. It would grant him no relief. There was only one pony responsible for this. And just like that, he left the room. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back. He returned to the real world, safe in the knowledge that he could come back at any time.

Silty hadn’t abandoned him after all, even if he’d abandoned her.

Had he fallen asleep, or merely zoned out? He couldn’t tell, but the sky outside the window was just beginning to shift into the pink of a setting sun. He raised his head to watch it for a time, curious about the sick, churning sensation in his gut. The sunset had once been a lovely thing, if often overlooked. Now it just reminded him that the devil held the cards.

Something shifted. Fleur was still on his back. She raised her head from the ground to stare at him with a carefully composed face, neither smiling nor frowning. “How are you feeling?”

He sighed, but didn’t turn away. “Like I just murdered an innocent filly with my bare hooves.”

Her lips pursed in a thin line while she studied him. She spoke with evident care, slow and quiet. “Now that you’ve calmed down, we can talk properly. And after we talk, you are free to do whatever you want. If you want to throw yourself out that window, I won’t stop you. But I had to make sure you were rational before I let you do such a thing.” She peered at him. “I’m going to let you up now.”

The faint hint of warning in her voice was… strangely reassuring, so he nodded. “I’ll talk.”

A moment’s pause. “Very well.” As promised, she stood up and stepped off of him. Cabaleron moved cautiously, ever aware of his broken leg. It hurt to move at all, but he pushed through the fiery pain and settled himself on his haunches. Fleur sat before him, not losing her grim expression.

“To begin, I would like to apologize.” She bowed her head low. “Had I understood what Celestia wanted from us in Mongolia, I would have treated you differently. You might have hated me for it, but then this wouldn’t have happened. If you choose to hate me now, I will understand.”

Caballeron frowned at her, pondering the offer. But all he really felt, outside the numbness of his emotions, was a curiosity that he did not entertain her offer. Not even subconsciously. The old Caballeron might have, but today, knowing what he knew…

With a sigh, he replied, “I think I like you better as a friend who made an honest mistake than an enemy by necessity.” He tried to smile at her hesitant glance, but couldn’t pull it off. “It’s alright, Fleur. I don’t blame you for this.”

Exhaling slowly, she sat back up and nodded. “Thank you, but if it’s all the same to you, I still intend to take some credit.”

“To ease my burden?” When she dodged his eyes, he looked away. His eyes landed on something orange and bent, lying in a pool of blood. His stomach lurched when he realized it was a leg. He shuddered and turned back to her quickly. “You promise not to bother me about it not being my fault, and I won’t bother you about it not being your fault.”

Fleur observed him from the corner of her eye. “I guess it’ll do.” She faced him properly, the stony mask back in place. “Now I need to know what you intend to do.” Her hoof rose to silence him before he could speak. “I don’t need an answer right away. I’m just saying that Celestia’s going to expect you to react somehow, and there’s no telling how long she’ll wait for your answer.”

His eyes tracked her hoof as it dropped to the floor. They drifted, landed on that orange leg once more. It stood out among the drab stone like a morbid beacon, summoning him as a moth is drawn to a flame. Standing over it, he gazed at the stretched skin, the ripped flesh, and the pool of blood that stopped just before reaching his hooves. Out the corner of his eye was another orange shape, larger, deformed, ugly.

His stomach rebelled, his breathing grew fast and short. Yet he didn’t look away. He wanted to own this, to acknowledge it. This was his sin, regardless of the circumstances.

Fleur’s hoofsteps approached from behind. Still gazing at that leg, he quietly spoke. “Your boss. Fine Crime. You told me before that he wants to bring Celestia down. Can he do it?”

She was silent for some time. “I don’t think so. Celestia is powerful in a great many ways. But it is Fine’s goal, and Fine’s goal is my goal.”

“And that of the Archons?”

“Yes. And especially that of the Order.” Her hoof touched his shoulder, gentle as a leaf. “I must warn you. I feel as though the last few months have been… healing you, in a way. You’ve been steadily walking away from the dark life you’ve known for years. Cruelles, joining the Archons… you’ll have to do things. Probably nothing as bad as this, but…”

She pressed her hoof tightly against his shoulder, perhaps intending to make clear to him her seriousness. Or maybe her concern.

“It’s not too late to say no. If you don’t want to go back to living as the villain, then you probably should.”

The villain. That’s all he’d ever been, wasn’t it? Gazing upon Scootaloo’s lost leg, he felt more corrupt and hideous than he ever had before. His options were so few, and all lead to death in time. But in the face of the worst kind of hideousness… Would Silty have understood? Perhaps. He’d have to find out later.

He reached up to touch her hoof, turned his head towards her, but didn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m in.”

Author's Notes:

Before anyone asks why I hate Scootaloo so much...

She's the best filly. I love her. This hurt a lot.

But I felt it was time to remind everyone about that monster that appeared way back in Fine's first chapter, and this what I came up with to do so.