Chapter 5: Letters to Those Left Behind.

Starting awake, a light grey pegasus stallion bumps his head on the bottom of his desk as he sits up. Rubbing his head with one hoof, he searches around with the other until he finds his glasses and puts them on so he can look at the clock nearby. Taking note that it’s still quite early in the morning, the stallion sighs and crawls out from beneath this desk. He lights a storm lantern on top of his desk and looks around.

Spotting a mug of tea on his desk, he picks it up and takes a sip without thinking, grimacing when he realizes it’s ice cold. Sighing and running a hoof through his unkempt mane, he picks up a saddlebag beside his desk, puts it on, grabs the storm lantern, and moves to the door. He quickly exits his office and makes his way down the dark hallway. Making his way through the darkened corridor, the stallion sighs as he passes empty and dark offices, the pre-dawn hour casting dark shadows that dance and flicker in the lamplight. Most of the employees who work in the office are seeking shelter elsewhere, with friends and family, leaving the stallion to watch over the place himself. Not that he minds, really, he prefers the peace and quiet over the events of late.

Before long, he reaches the front door, and opens it, turning around once outside and lightly closing the door. He looks at the lettering on the door, a small smile on his face as he reads ‘Prose Publishing’ in the dim lamplight. He then turns and quickly walks down the short hallway, then down the stairs, and out the front door into the quiet streets of the small middle-class business park the office sits in. It’s nice for a middle-class area of Canterlot, being closer to the upper class areas, but not so close that the rent would be above what a small publishing agency can handle.

Whistling around the lantern, the stallion heads down the street in the direction of the Castle, nodding respectfully to the Night Guard he passes on the streets. Many return the greeting, a few even going so far as to smile!

This continues on until he reaches the Castle, stopping only briefly to extinguish his lantern before entering.

Once inside, he makes his way quickly towards the section of the castle that holds the ballroom and throne room, his pace leisurely but not slow. The few ponies up and about at this time of day, which is a few hours before the sun should hopefully rise, pay the stallion hardly any more attention than a weary smile and a nod. Most of them are servants or Night Guards, but a few of them are wearing the golden armor of the Day Guard. The last group comprised of early risers like the stallion, attempting to get a leg up on the day’s work, or simply to be awake when their shift comes, and quite honestly the stallion wished he was still asleep on his bedroll. But, that is not an option, as he had promised he’d help as best he could, and he is going to stick to that promise no matter what.

Turning into one of the large reception halls near the main ballroom, the stallion smiles slightly upon seeing the tables mostly empty save for a few early risers. Among them, is a light gold mare wearing the uniform of the Wonderbolts’ Reserve Corps.

Walking over to the larger buffet table nearby, the stallion gathers a plate of food, and sits down next to the uniformed mare.

“Morning, Daring,” the stallion says, yawning afterwards. He lifts one hoof as if by instinct, and a cup of hot tea suddenly slides down the table towards him. “Thanks Rusty!” the stallion calls without looking away from his friend.

“Good to see you out of bed this early, Prose,” Daring replies with a weary, lopsided grin.

“Well, my office floor isn’t exactly all that comfortable,” Prose replies as he picks up his mug, taking a tentative sip and sighing. “Not as good as that tea house you showed me, but Rusty never does disappoint.”

“Hard to compete with the Viscountess’ specialty,” Rusty says as he rolls by, his makeshift armor rattling as he passes.

“That it is,” Daring agrees, pausing to take a bite of the bagel she has in front of her. “So, now that things have quieted down, Prose, and we have the CMC to be messengers…”

“How did they convince you to allow them to do that?” Prose asks, a spoon sticking out of his muzzle.

“My nephew is… very convincing…” Daring mutters in reply.

“So, he just used your weakness for cute foals against you?” Prose asks, raising an eyebrow as he smirks.

“Now… wait a moment, I don’t have a weakness for…” Daring starts, only be be cut off as a caped foal springs up next to her and yawns.

“Auntie Yearling,” the foal says sleepily. “Why didn’t you tell me and the other CMC that the guard shift changed so early? We could’a been ready to go with them, but everypony is still asleep!”

“Because, Tricks,” Daring sighs. “You’re all still young, and your uncle and I felt it’d be best if you all got your sleep. You were up late last night, afterall.”

“We were serious when we said we wanted to help,” Tricks states adamantly, a mug of tea much like Prose’s sliding down the table to him. “And that means we’re more than willing to get up and do whatever it takes!”

“Mmmhm,” Daring hums over a cup of coffee. “Does that mean that the pegasus colt over there passed out on the floor isn’t Quick Spark?” Tricks turns quickly and facehoofs as he spots a red-orange tail sticking out from beneath one of the buffet tables.

“He said he was awake!” Tricks protests, turning back to his aunt, eyes large and pleading.

“Uh-oh, Daring,” Prose chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I think you’re doomed.”

“Now… Tricks…” Daring starts, her ears going back against her head.

“Please! Spark might not be able to stay awake! But I can!” the young unicorn pleads, lower lip quivering, hooves pressed together as he stares at his aunt.

“Fine…” Daring sighs. “After breakfast, I’ll see about giving you --” Daring starts with a sigh, only be be cut off by Tricks

“And any other CMC who are awake,” Tricks adds.

“And any other of your friends who are awake,” Daring agrees, closing her eyes and putting her face in her hooves, “some early morning courier jobs. I am sure my Reservists will be more than happy to let you do it….” She then mutters under her breath, and Prose is sure he is the only one who hears, “Not that most of them are awake right now…”

“You’re the best!” Tricks declares, hugging his aunt from the side. “I’ll go rally the troops!” He quickly takes few sips from his tea, then rushes off. He is so fast in leaving the room, that Prose is almost certain the colt knows how to teleport.

“Witching Hour must be so proud of him,” Prose muses, taking a bite of his food.

“Not. A. Word.” Daring says, pointing one hoof at her friend and publisher.

“Why, Daring, why ever would I tell ponies that you’re a pushover when it comes to your nephew?” Prose asks innocently.

“If Witchy were here, she’d tell you to save it, she can see the devil horns holding up that halo,” Daring grumbles.

“Like I don’t get enough of that from her already,” Prose mutters.

“What was that?” Daring asks, looking over at him.

“Nothing,” Prose chuckles. “So, while we’re on the topic of tasks, what do you have for me?”

“Do we need to go over this now?” Daring groans. “It’s still an hour before sunrise.”

“Sorry, Daring,” Prose offers, putting a comforting hoof on his friend’s shoulder. “I know you’re overworked, but the instant you go into that command center you’ll be lost to the world. Better to talk to you now, before you’re swamped by the daunting task of keeping an entire city together using duct tape, chewing gum, and the spare dental floss you found in your saddlebags.”

“That stuff is tougher than it looks,” Daring chuckles, “but you’re right…” She looks down at her half-eaten plate of food, and frowns. After a few long moments, she looks over at Prose and smiles slightly. “You took a lot of first responder classes before you moved to Ponyville, right?”

“Yeah? I sort of had to, what with all the crazy stuff that happens there,” Prose answers, rolling his eyes and snorting. “I swear, the first week I was there, we got attacked by potted plants, parasprites, and my mother-in-law came to town! I dare say I couldn’t figure out which was worse….” he trails off and looks at Daring, “why?”

“Well, if you’re still current on those classes, we could use somepony helping out at one of our aid stations.” Daring offers, a smile on her face.

“Hmm…” Prose hums before nodding. “Yeah, I think I am. Or, close enough for the situation.” He rises and smiles. “Right, well then I guess I’ll be stopping by the medical wing here in the Castle, then?”

“No, I’ll have one of our the Guard Medics bring you an emergency air rescue bag.” Daring replies absently. “It’ll have everything you’ll need.”

“Alright, what should I do in the meantime?” Prose asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Go help Leaf wrangle the CMC that my nephew likely just woke up.” Daring says curtly, a devilish smile on her face.

“Payback for my earlier comments?” Prose ventures.

“Why, Prose, why ever would you think that?” Daring queries, her smile never slipping.

“Now who has devil horns holding up their halo?”

-----

Holly Sweep sighs heavily as he walks down one of the few lit streets bordering the ruins of the higher class district and the middle class. The hour is beyond early, as the sky is just now starting to turn the bright pink and orange of a sunrise, but Holly is as awake as he’ll ever be.

Taking a moment to stop at an intersection, Holly looks over his shoulder at his saddlebags. Normally, they’re laden down with herbs and other such plants, but today they’re rather light, as he is only carrying a few salves, some snacks, and two very important letters. He hadn’t read the letters as of yet, but they had been given to him by his soon to be daughter-in-law, A.K. Yearling.

The look on her face as she had explained who they were from, which in and of itself would have been enough to convince him they were serious, had chilled his bones. He had read a few of Yearling’s books, about her alter-ego Daring Do, but he had never seen her be the serious and experienced adventurer until that moment. He had to admit, he could see why his son cared for her so dearly.

Starting down one of the streets into the high-class district, he weaves his way through the ruined walkways and quite a few times through the burnt out or toppled ruins of homes. As with the other times he has come out here in the past past few days, Holly feels a strong urge to go try and find his own home, which sat atop the business he and his wife owned. He knew it was no longer there, as Daring had informed them after the dust had settled that the area it had once stood in, being so close to the Wonderbolts’ Compound and thus ground zero, was nothing more than scorched wood and loose rubble.

The desire to see it with his own eyes though was strong, but then so was the urge to get the first letter to his wife so they could read it together. The second was to his grand-foal, Trick Step, who, according to Daring, was with Fine Brew today.

As if the thoughts summoned her, Holly turns the last corner to find his wife standing in front of another unicorn, this one a stallion, and shouting loudly.

“Can’t you see that what you’re agreeing to do is madness?” Fine Brew accuses the unicorn, her eyes narrowed. “Blueblood is going to lead you all to ruin, if not to an early grave!”

“And I assure you, Viscountess,” the unicorn replies in a clearly upper-class accent. “We cannot ignore the information brought forth by Archduke Blueblood.”

“We have naught but his word that what he says is true! There is no proof!” Fine argues, stamping a hoof. Sadly, from where Holly stands, it’s clear her words like silent raindrops fall, and echo in the silence. The unicorn Fine Brew is talking to simply does not wish to hear it, and instead of continuing the argument turns and starts off. “Okay! Be blind to what’s clearly right in front of your nose!”

Deciding that now would be a really good time to deliver the good news, Holly comes up beside his wife and smiles to her. “Still on your mission of peace, dear?”

“Yes,” Fine replies somberly. “These…. foals, don’t know what they are doing! They are going to kick a hornet's nest if they follow through with Blueblood’s plan.”

“They never will,” Holly assures his wife. “The gentry can be quite… foalish sometimes, but I cannot see them doing something as idiotic as what you have told me.” He then smiles and fishes the first letter out of his saddle bag.

“You don’t know them like I do,” Fine Brew mutters softly, a worried frown on her face.

“Well, you can forget them and their idiocy for a little while,” Holly chuckles, “because I have something you’ll want to see.” He offers the letter to Fine Brew and continues. “I got this earlier, along with one for Tricks. They’re from our daughter.”

Her eyes growing wide, Fine Brew takes the letter in her magic and opens it. Holly comes to stand behind her and slightly to one side so he can read over her shoulder.

The instant she is finished reading the letter, for the second time, Fine Brew turns and draws her husband into a tight hug, tears welling in her eyes.

“Oh thank Luna, she’s alive!” Fine Brew says loudly. “I never doubted for a moment, but….”

“Nor did I, my dear,” Holly replies, returning the hug with equal measure, ignoring the fact they’re in the middle of burnt out ruins. After a long few moments of holding each other, Holly pulls away slightly and smiles. “Now, where is Tricks? I have a letter for him too.”

“Over here, Pappy Sweep!” Tricks’ voice comes from behind some rubble, shortly followed by him and a few other caped foals. “Is the mean unicorn gone?”

“Yes, Tricks,” Fine Brew says softly, a small smile on her face. “The Baron is gone; he wouldn’t listen to reason…”

“I’m sorry, Nana Brew,” Tricks offers as he comes over and hugs Fine Brew, who returns the hug gently.

“Why were you hiding, Tricks?” Holly asks, looking between Tricks and the other caped foals.

“Nana and him were fighting so loudly, I… felt that me and the other Crusaders needed to be out of the way.” Tricks replies, a small amount of fear reflecting in his voice.

“Nana and he,” Fine Brew corrects gently, “and the other Crusaders and I, dear.”

“Yes, Nana,” Tricks replies.

“So, Tricks,” Holly starts slowly, pulling the second letter out of his saddle bags. “I know you’ve been playing messenger the past few days, but I’ve got an important one for you.” He offers it to his grandfoal, who snatches it up quickly as soon as he notices the hoofwriting.

Quickly tearing it open, he sits down, the letter levitating unsteadily in his magic, and reads it.

As he reads it, Tricks’ eyes start to fill with tears, a smile spreading across his face. After going through it a few times, he quickly wraps it in his arms and holds it to his chest, his tears flowing freely.

“I knew it!” Tricks declares loudly. “Those Shadowbolts could never defeat Witch Doctor!” He looks over at his grandparents, who are both smiling at him surrounded by equally happy CMC members. “She said she loves me, and she’ll be home soon! Do you think she will be?”

“Our daughter is a mare of her word,” Holly says with a chuckle. “She’ll be home soon.”

“Do… do you think she really loves me?” Tricks asks suddenly, an unsure tone in his voice.

“Yes,” Holly states instantly. “As do we. And we always will.”

“Always?” Tricks asks, looking up at his grandparents.

“Always.” Holly repeats.

-------

The sun rises steadily over the remains of Canterlot’s Upper-Class district, the smoldering and burnt out ruins of the once fine buildings painting the reality of the cost of arrogance, of power, in clear relief. Many have already started to filter back into the area, sifting through buildings that had held their entire lives, the lives of their grandparents, and the futures they had hoped to gift to their children. The devastation extends through the entire district in an outward circle starting upon the grounds of the Wonderbolt Compound, ending just short of the Middle-Class district where most of the merchant and working class live.

On the very edge, a two story house sits surrounded by tents and temporary shelters, the windows lit with candles and smoke rising out of its chimney. A Canterlot Royal Guard banner hangs from one window, a red band extending diagonally from the upper right corner and ending on the lower left marks it as a place to find medical relief. Movement in the windows states that many a pony is still awake at this hour. One, a dark blue pegasus mare wearing a nurse uniform is assisting a grey pegasus stallion change the bandages on a young filly’s leg.

“That’s it, Prose,” the mare says slowly in a practiced voice. “Have the next set of bandages ready when we get this off, we shouldn’t expose her burns to the air for too long.” Prose, the stallion, nods and opens a pouch on his saddle bags, which are marked with red crosses, and pulls a set of thick gauze bandages from it.

“Alright, Perfect, whenever you’re ready.” Prose says in a neutral tone. Perfect nods and quickly removes the bandage, then applies a salve to it, causing the filly to hiss in pain. Prose starts winding the bandage on in a practiced motion while Perfect smiles and pats the foal on the shoulder.

“Its alright, dear,” she whispers soothingly, “The worst of it is over.” She then looks to Prose who nods as he finishes and smiles wearily.

“Indeed.” He ruffles the filly’s mane, “Hey, so I heard from miss Perfect here that you’re a fan of Daring Do?” The little filly nods, tears in her eyes from the pain. “Well, I shouldn’t do this, but…” He reaches into his saddle bag and pulls out a book, “This may or may not be an advanced first edition of the next book.” He holds hoof up to his mouth and looks around as if to make sure no one else is looking or listening, “Don’t tell anypony about this. I could get in a lot of trouble, but I’ve been going to some very dangerous places as of late.” He winks to the filly, “I could use someone to guard it, and I was thinking I might be able to count on you?”

“Yes sir, Prose!” The filly exclaims, then folds her ears back. “I mean, you can count on me to keep it safe!” Prose nods and hands the book over, which the foal quickly grabs and holds tightly to her chest and looks at it as if it were the most precious thing in the entire world. “I… had the entire series… but…” The filly sniffles and holds the book tighter.

“Hey, little one, do not cry,” Prose says putting a hoof under the filly’s chin and lifting her eyes to look in his, “If you do a good job protecting it, I bet I could get Daring to pay you a visit. She’d love to hear about how you earned that bandage saving your teddy bear.” The filly’s eyes light up.

She all but bounces in her seat as she exclaims, “You could get Daring to visit me!?” Prose nods and winks.

“She is a friend. I think I could arrange it,” he sighs and stands up, rolling a shoulder, “but, you need to rest, and that book won’t guard itself.” The filly nods and settles back onto her bed, book clutched to her chest. Prose looks to Peaceful and gestures towards the door before walking off towards where he indicated.

Stopping in the doorway, he leans on it and yawns, “I… don’t know how you do it, Perfect.” He shakes his head and shivers, “I’ve been up for nearly two days now, and you’ve been up since this whole disaster started.” He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes before yawning again.

“There will be time to sleep when my house isn’t full of guests,” Pefect replies as she puts a hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “Besides, I’m a nurse at Canterlot General. I’m used to sleepless nights during emergencies.”

Prose chuckles weakly at that and puts his glasses back on, blue eyes focusing slowly. “And here I thought your husband was kidding when he said you were damn near tireless when it came to these things.” He then sighs and looks to Perfect. “I need to get back to the Castle, inform Commander Dawn or Commander Moonlight, whichever is awake right now.” He smiles slightly. “I’ll pass on your list of supplies to them as well.” Perfect nods and gestures to the front door, which is closed to help preserve the warm air inside for the injured.

“Thank you for that,” Perfect replies in a weary voice of her own, “My own personal supplies and what the hospital could spare only lasted us so long…” She then pushes lightly on Prose’s shoulder, “Now go, get back to the Castle and get some rest before you take up one of my limited beds!”

“Yes, mother!” Prose replies sarcastically, “I’ll go get some rest. Good luck, Perfect.” He then heads to the door, opens it, and nearly runs into the chest of a stallion wearing a satchel on the front porch.

“Ah! Oh, so sorry!” the stallion says with a weary smile. “Is this the residence of Perfect Night and Evening Star?” Prose nods and points over his shoulder towards Perfect who is looking over with a confused expression.

“That’s Perfect Night.” He then slips around the stallion with another yawn. “I’m sure she can help you.” The stallion nods and looks to Perfect.

“Ma’am, may I come in? I have some letters for you, and I’d rather not crowd your front door.” the stallion asks politely, moving inside when Perfect nods her consent and motions with a hoof for him to enter, “Thank you. Now, I have two letters marked from the… Wonderbolts of all places.” He reaches into his satchel and pulls out two letters, holding them out to Perfect, “I couldn’t help but notice that they’re both from Captains, too. Hope it’s good news.” Perfect takes the letters with a weak smile.

“I hope so too,” Her voice is soft, and she is trying hard to believe those words, “Do I owe you anything for postage?”

“Nope, they were paid for.” The stallion inclines his head and turns to leave. “Have a good day, ma’am, and good luck.” He looks around at the various volunteers helping various injured. “All of you are going to need it.” Perfect nods slowly, looking at the letters on her hooves.

“Thanks…” she replies absently, the stallion sighing and walking from the house to continue his errand. Perfect puts the letters in her mouth and walks to the kitchen where she sits on a stool at the counter. There are various other nurses and a doctor or two who live nearby in the kitchen as well, some resting after their shifts, others taking strips of cloth out of a pot over the fireplace to make into bandages. Being the lady of the house, nopony bothers Perfect as she flips between the two letters, both addressed to ‘the parents of Midnight’, the only difference being one is from Lead Captain Spitfire, the other from Captain Riptide. Sighing, she grabs a knife from a nearby rack and opens Tide’s letter first. She is worried sick over her daughter, and if anyone will get to the point quickly it’d be Midnight’s Captain.

The first paragraph is stained with tears, the smudges in the ink speaking almost more than the words. Tide hardly ever cried, and she never forgot to put her rank into any letter that Perfect or her husband had ever gotten from the mare. Something was wrong, something is terribly wrong. Reading on her heart all but stops beating.

Putting Tide’s letter down Perfect grabs Spitfire’s and tears it open quickly, a panicked look in her eyes that draw the attention of everypony in the room. She looks at the first few words, and instantly tears form in her emerald eyes. She looks up to the ceiling and shouts, “EVENING! GET DOWN HERE NOW!” There is a loud thump from above her as a body hits the floor, then the raucous sound of hooves rapidly across the wooden floor, then the stairs. Evening Star, a black Pegasus with shining amber eyes and a yellow mane, comes into the kitchen in a rush.

“Dear, wha...what is it!?” He asks breathlessly, his wings fluttering at his side. In response, his wife holds up Spitfire’s letter, her face already buried in the crook of one arm as she sobs. Walking over slowly Evening takes the letter, and starts reading it. His plot hits the floor, his eyes wide as he reads.

“No…” Evening says slowly, tears forming in his own eyes, “N-no! Midnight… She… She can’t be…” A nurse comes over and looks over Evening’s shoulder, instantly inhaling sharply and putting a hoof to her mouth. Evening gets up and walks over to stand behind his wife, hugging her from behind as they both give into their grief.

After what feels like an eternity, Evening’s tears stop. As he continues to hold onto the sobbing form of this wife, he spies the other letter. Blinking away the tears, he reaches over with one hoof and starts reading it, whatever is in this letter cannot be any worse than the contents of Spitfire’s.

He reads the first two paragraphs, and makes it to where his wife had stopped. Knowing not what else to do, he reads aloud, his voice rough from his tears.

Beside him, Perfect’s tears slow, her ears perking forward slightly as she starts listening. Evening’s voice growing a little stronger, he continues.

Evening stops, and looks that line over a few times before looking to his wife, who looks up at him.

“Oh, Tide…” Perfect says as she looks to the tear stained letter in her husband’s hooves.

“Our dear daughter caught her attention at last…” Evening says with a soft, mournful smile, “Her last letter said… said she had a surprise for us, but this?” he sighs and nuzzles his wife softly before continuing.

Perfect covers her mouth with a hoof, fresh tears in her eyes as she stares at those words. All the other ponies in the room are now crowded around them, listening to the letter intently with a mixture of sadness and interest.

“You would have made a wonderful mother,” Perfect says slowly from behind her hoof. “Our grandfoals w-would have been blessed by having you as their mother.” Evening nods and smiles softly.

“It sounds just like our Midnight to pull something like that on her marefriend,” Evening chuckles weakly. He then clears his throat and continues reading around the lump that had formed.

As he finishes reading the formal signature, Evening pulls his wife closer and puts the letter down, the small sorrowful smile on his muzzle reflected in his tear filled eyes. “We lost a daughter, but it seems…”

“It seems we may have gained another,” Perfect whispers into her husband’s cheek as she nuzzles him, “I know you’re tired, but we should write back. Can… can you go to the Castle, find that nice stallion Prose who has been helping us. He’ll know how to get a letter back to them.” Evening nods, then kisses his wife’s head as he releases her from his arms.

“I will do so, my dear,” he sighs and looks to others in the room. Some are now moving to comfort Perfect, the rest slowly detaching themselves from their spots on the floor and moving back to their duties. Assured that his wife will be well looked after in his absence, he leaves the room to head out of the house and towards the Castle.

Perfect looks to one of her fellow nurses who is sitting beside her, an arm around her shoulder in silent comfort. “Natty,” the brown earth pony looks over at Perfect, “Can you go into Evening’s study and grab me an inkwell and some paper? I… need to start on my letter.”

Smiling, Natural Remedy nods, “Of course, Perfect, I’ll be right back.” As she leaves, Perfect exhales and slumps over to rest her arms on the counter, and her head on her arms. She sighs deeply, her entire body seeming to just deflate, even her ears do their best to flatten themselves against her head. After a few short while Natty returns, the items requested in hoof. Putting them down on the counter, she gives Perfect a friendly pat on the back, then sits nearby at the counter incase her friend requires anything further.

Heaving a single, shuddering sigh, Perfect sits up, spreads the parchment, and puts pen to paper.

By the time Evening returns, Perfect has penned out a letter and has fallen asleep at the counter, one of the other nurses having draped a blanket over her back. Smiling softly, he collects the letter, dips the pen in the ink and signs his name. He then neatly folds it before putting it into an envelope he has procured from Prose, then addresses the letter simply, ‘To Captain Riptide, Squad Six, Wonderbolt Compound.’ and places it on the counter in front of his wife. Evening then yawns, and sits down next to his wife, lifts the blanket to get under, and snuggles up next to her before falling fast asleep beside her.

--------

Walking down the silent streets of Canterlot, Amber Dawn cannot help but feel as if he is walking into battle. His armor shining in the lamps and polished to a mirror like surface, the sash over it adorned with his rank and honors. Beside the worn out and rubble strewn streets, Dawn almost looks like an illustration pulled from a book, perfect and yet unspoiled.

Yet, he does not feel that way.

No, even after getting a letter from his daughter earlier that day, he cannot seem to find the strength to smile as he makes his way slowly along the streets of the middle-class. His destination isn’t far from the border of the high-class, in fact it is almost right on the edge of the burned out area. He has taken the long way, though, wishing to delay the meeting he is about to go to as long as possible.

But, he can’t put it off forever, no matter how much he wants to. He owes his daughter that much.

Sighing, he turns down the street towards the well lit houses that surround one of the many triage stations in the middle-class. This one is a two story house, the Royal Guard Medical Corps banner hanging proudly on one wall, tents and other such shelters surrounding it. Many of those who are camped out around the house are asleep by now, Dawn having purposely waited until the night when his shift was over, the night now having progressed to the point where the moon is near its zenith.

Slowing as he walks towards the door, he contemplates backing out one more time. He doesn’t need to be here, he doesn't need to intrude into their grief, does he? No… if it had been his daughter, if Tide had been killed… wouldn’t he want one of them to come to him? Shaking his head and heaving one final, long sigh, he reaches up with one hoof and knocks on the door.

Almost immediately the sound of hooves on hardwood greet him, and the door is opened to reveal the face of a brown earth pony mare, who smiles at Dawn warmly.

“Good evening, can I help you…” the mare trails off, looking at the rank sash on Dawn’s armor, “Commander?”

“Yes, I am looking for the ponies who own this house? Are they… are they awake? I need to speak with them.”

“They are,” the mare says slowly, opening the door and stepping aside. “They’re… not really looking to talk to anypony right now, but if you’re here it must be important.”

For a moment, Dawn’s mouth works but nothing comes out. Ears folded against his head, he asks himself if this is truly important. Nodding, he looks to the mare and smiles, “It is. I would not bother them otherwise.” Nodding, the mare gestures for Dawn to enter, and closes the door behind him.

Once inside, Dawn can see that the rooms that branch off from the entryway are full of beds and cots, most occupied by ponies who are all resting.

Attempting to keep his voice down, Dawn looks at the mare who is waiting a ways off for Dawn to follow her. “You look like you have your hooves full here,” he says quietly.

“There were a lot of ponies injured during the attack,” the mare replies, “and quite a few injured afterwards. Secondary fires and collapses have caused us no end of grief.”

“I’ve read the reports,” Dawn comments, “I wish there was more we could do to spare the civilians from having to go through their houses... “

“But you all suffered heavy losses,” the mare finishes for Dawn. “Do not worry, Commander, Canterlot’s ponies are strong, they do not hold it against the Guard for being unable to help more.” Dawn opens his mouth to say more, to apologize again, but the mare cuts him off. “They’re through here.” She points to a slightly ajar door.
“Thank you,” Dawn says softly, a small smile on his face as he removes his helmet and opens the door. Beyond the door is a spacious kitchen and dining room that looks like, if required, it could hold a hundred ponies tightly packed together. Right now, though, there is only two in the room, both huddled together at the kitchen’s large counter, a pair of opened letters in front of them and one sealed one. One of them, a mare with a dark blue coat and faded grey and purple hair, is softly sobbing into the arms of a black stallion. The stallion, noticing Dawn’s entry, looks up and sizes Dawn up with a pair of weary and bloodshot amber eyes.

Instantly, Dawn knows these are the ponies he has come to see. Even without the mare who had shown him in telling him, he knew them to be Midnight’s parents. He had met her a few times, she had her mother’s fur color, and her father’s eyes and mane.

“C-can I help you?” the stallion asks softly, his voice faded from crying. The sound of his voice causes the mare to look up and dab her eyes with a handkerchief as she sniffles.

Opening his mouth, then closing it and frowning, Dawn looks to the door behind him, which had been left slightly ajar, and closes it. He then looks back at the two before him and offers them a small reassuring smile. “I am not sure,” he offers in response before gesturing to an empty seat across the counter from them. “May I sit, and we can talk about if you can help me?” The stallion nods and Dawn sits in the chair he had indicated, placing his helmet on the counter and sighing. “Thank you, I’ve been on my hooves all day, and I was not looking forward to returning to the Guard Barracks quite yet.”

“You’re welcome, Commander…?” The mare asks in a grief-softened voice.

“Amber Dawn,” Dawn replies, his smile staying on his face. “But, please, call me Dawn. I am not here on official business.”

“I’m Evening Star,” the stallion offers in introduction, followed by him hugging his wife tightly. “And this is Perfect Night.” He then looks to the letters in front of him, then back at Dawn. “So, why are you here?”

“A pleasure, Evening, Perfect,” Dawn says warmly before allowing his smile to slip with a sigh. “Because I felt like I owed it to someone to meet you both.” He nods to one of the letters, his smile partially returning. “My daughter’s hoofwriting always was more function than form.”

“Your daughter?” Perfect asks, looking to the letters.

“Captain Riptide,” Dawn explains with a shake of his head. “I… got a letter from her today, explaining a lot of things, chief among them how she had suffered a profound loss.” He looks to the other open letter in front of the pair, his expression becoming somber. “I see Spitfire was able to mail you her condolences. I’ve had to write a few of those the past few days…” He sighs and says softly, mostly to himself. “Too many.”
“You must be kept busy now that things are in a lull,” Evening chuckles wearily. “Must… be a lot of families to visit with how many you lost.”

“There will be,” Dawn agrees, looking down at the table. “Truthfully, you’re the first.”

Raising an eyebrow, Perfect frowns. “Why us? What makes us so special?”

“Because,” Dawn says slowly, “if I lost Tide, and our places were reversed, I would want somepony to come talk to me.” He shrugs and sighs. “Perhaps I am an idealist, or perhaps I just expect somepony to care that my daughter died.”

“But why not let the Wonderbolts handle it?” Evening inquires, looking at Dawn with growing curiosity. “The Reservists could easily send someone here.”

“Truthfully,” Dawn starts, smiling softly. “Senior Master Sergeant Yearling wanted to come here. I convinced her not to.” He raises a hoof as Evening and Perfect open their mouths. “I asked her, and she agreed, because I felt it would be better if you were visited by a fellow parent. More so since Tide is my daughter.” He then looks at the two ponies across from him, a warm smile spreading over his features. “I even waited until I was off-duty, because I want to learn about your daughter. I want to know about the mare my daughter fell in love with, and has now lost.”

Sniffling and standing up, Perfect smiles. “Then let me put on some water for tea… We’ll be here a while.”

Author's Notes:

Right, so that was... fun? This chapter is perhaps going to be the saddest chapter in this story short of perhaps a funeral chapter (Which I may or may not do depending on some things), but I hope it was enjoyable.

I've been planning this chapter since I got the idea to do a Canterlot disaster story, in fact the letter Spitfire wrote to Midnight's parents has been written since Memories of Midnight, it's the first thing you see in my outline for that story, and it's what got me started on writing Memories. I modeled the letter after the one letter no parent/spouse/sibling/child wants to get when their loved one is off in war. I was tempted to have a pair of dogtags included in one of the letters, but Tide has them and won't let them go for the world.

The letter from Riptide, has been written for a while, too, but not as long as the letter from Spitfire.

The letters from Witch were written by my editor, Witching Hour, and I was overjoyed to have them in the chapter!

Oh, and last but not least! You all get to see Epic Prose again! He is a bit of a shameless self-insert into my stories, but I wanted him to be in Canterlot since it's where his office is. You'll get to see his wife later-on being a bad-ass, but for now you get to see Prose being Prose.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, more shall be posted as I finish them!

Until then, stay safe, stay warm!

~Sylvian

Edit: I forgot to mention, Holly Sweep is voiced by Alan Rickman. The line where he says "Always" was written in tribute to the amazing actor, who passed away while I was writing this chapter.

Alan, we'll miss you, but I hope you are at peace now.