For whatever reason, Yuny wasn’t quite as annoying or grating as he was when Blackbird had first met him. Upon their first meeting, she had an intense dislike of him and almost roughed him up, but now—though she could not explain why—she was rather fond of him. Oh, he was a little uptight, one might even call him a bit anal, but he was just doing his job. Blackbird gave him an amused expression as he fussed and fretted over a minotaur calf’s jack, which was emblazoned with the symbol of the White Hand.

“Blackbird,” Yuny said as he brushed off the minotaur’s narrow shoulders, “this is Munro. He will be joining you in your job to protect Dim. Munro has been trained since the time he could first walk to be a valet. He has finished his classroom education and now it is time for a practical hands on approach.” Turning his head, the jasper jackal addressed the young calf. “Munro, don’t be shy, This is Blackbird, and you are to obey her every instruction. You are to do as she says, when she says it, and you are to follow her instructions to the letter. Am I understood?”

The calf, eager, nodded.

“He’s a little young,” Blackbird quipped.

Turning about, Yuny cleared his throat while looking Blackbird right in the eye. “The lives of minotaurs revolve around the number five. At the age of five, the first of their responsibilities are pressed upon them. At the age of ten, like Munro here, they cease classroom learning and begin doing what they will do as adults. At fifteen, they can become apprentices and can have a recognised title for themselves, should they serve with distinction and earn it. At the age of twenty, all of the rights of adulthood are granted.”

“That’s a lot to take in all at once.”

“Quite,” Yuny replied, “and I even left out the fact that there is a strict caste system at work here. Munro is the pride of his family, who, in the past, have been rather lowborn. All of their hard work has paid off and through Munro, they have been given a chance to advance their status. Through the meritocracy, hard work is recognised and rewarded. Isn’t that right, Munro?”

Again, the calf nodded.

Blackbird took a moment to study Munro, a young minotaur. His coat, what was visible and not covered by clothing, she couldn’t decide if it was red or brown or both. The tuft of hair sticking up from between his stubby, curved horns was flaxen and stood out in sharp contrast to the faded yellow of his eyes. Minotaurs, she had noticed, all tended to have yellow, rather than whites to their eyes. In the midst of the yellow, copper could be seen, glittering with eager intelligence.

“Munro, how do you feel about all of this?” she asked.

“Oh,” he replied in a voice of practiced calm, “I am ever so excited.”

The Bard, drinking wine and nibbling on cheese, snorted, and Bombay began to giggle. Blackbird too, found herself chuckling by the absolute lack of enthusiasm in the calf’s voice. Even with the laughter, Munro seemed eager to please, and didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest. Because of this, Blackbird decided right away she liked him, and made a gesture for him to come closer.

“Come over here, with us, and get away from Yuny. He’s a creep, you know.” Blackbird’s words drew throaty snickers from Bombay, and Yuny rolled his eyes.

With calm assurance, Munro did as he was bid and came towards Blackbird with a stiff, starchy gait, which could only be described as ‘refined elegance.’ Watching him, she was certain that Dim would like him, at least she hoped that Dim would like him, otherwise, things would get really interesting really fast.

“How shall I address you?” Munro asked as he drew near.

“Call me Blackbird, that’ll be fine. I’m just Blackbird Coffyn, nothing less, nothing more.”

“Very well.” Munro bowed his head and then stood there, ramrod straight, waiting.

Without turning her head, Blackbird’s eyes focused on Yuny for a time, then back on Munro, and then were returned to Yuny. Bombay was strumming something on her mandolin, and Munro was standing as still as a statue. To say that Blackbird had concerns would have been an understatement, and she drew in a deep breath as she readied herself to give voice to her worries.

“We’re about to go into a fight—”

“Oh, not to worry, Munro has had a fair amount of firearms and combat training. He’s a little slow to aim, but he’s a crack shot.” Yuny folded his forelegs behind the small of his back and his tail wagged for the first time. “You only need to arm him. He will also gladly clean and service your guns, sharpen your bladed weapons, I assure you, he can do all that is required of him. I hold the utmost confidence in his abilities.”

“Well, alright then.”

“Now, if you will excuse me”—Yuny bowed at the waist, his tail still wagging—“I have to go and speak to Motte and Bailey about their duties to Prince Dim. I cannot stay.”

“Say hello for me,” the Bard said as Yuny stood straight.

“Sure thing,” Yuny replied, and then the busy jasper jackal hurried off.

The struggle between Dim and Eerie could only be compared to snails trying to race. Both were weak, frail, neither one of them had any sort of meaningful strength. Eerie, it seemed, was in the mood to be affectionate, and Dim, being Dim, responded as if it were torture. For Dim, it was torture, and he would rather be stabbed with red-hot pokers than be kissed or cuddled by Eerie.

“Must you?” His question, almost a growl, was asked as he tried to wiggle free.

“Yes,” Eerie responded, “I feel so much love and hope right now. We are safe to be a family, Dim. I feel bubbly inside and my body feels so light—”

“That’s probably gas, now unhoof me right this instant! I do not wish to be present when your nefarious crepitations begin!”

“Dim, please say that you forgive me—”

“For this embarrassment? Never!” Kicking about, Dim fought to get his hooves beneath him so he wouldn’t be so helpless.

“At last, I shall have what money cannot buy! I shall be a perfectly normal loving aunt, with a nephew to dote upon! I will have a wellspring of healthy, perfectly normal loving affection! This is so much more satisfying than mere power and influence!” With each and every word spoken, Eerie redoubled her grip around her prized nephew, and there was a curious faint pink illumination that could be seen in the irises of her eyes. “Everything that was lost shall be restored!”

“No!” Even as Dim screeched in protest, his body betrayed him, and some dreadful part of him wanted to return Eerie’s infectious affection. His vision was oversaturated with a pink hue and some unknown emotion urgle-gurgled through his guts like the effervescent, frothy bubbles of explosive, rocket-blast diarrhea. Death, swift and terminal, was preferable to this sensation.

“I’ve done you wrong, Dim. Forgive me!” Eerie pleaded as she gave Dim a familial nuzzle with her fuzzy muzzle. “My actions contributed to your suffering and for this, I am truly sorry. Let me make it up to you, Dim. This has been the driving motivation in my life—to do right for all that I have done wrong, and I was one of the ponies that made your life what it is. Forgive me, I beg of thee!”

Something gave way and Dim thought of Darling. He thought of his cravings for forgiveness, for redemption, a chance to make things right. Little by little, his struggles ceased, and even though it was more than a little uncomfortable, he allowed Eerie her affectionate embrace. While everything in the library around him was cast in a revivacating pink hue, Dim thought of somepony other than himself. Eerie had needs, just as he did, powerful, motivating needs that drove her to do things, just as his own compulsions influenced his own behaviour.

It occurred to Dim that Eerie truly was suffering from her guilt, just as he suffered from his own guilt, remorse, and contriteness. His own soul suffered deep, terrible wounds from these feelings, and it stood to reason that, if this hurt him, then it had to hurt Eerie. For most ponies, this was something learned in foalhood, but for Dim, the lesson came late in life. Like a slap in the face, it struck him, robbing him of his senses, his reason, his coherency.

As Eerie continued to cling to him, Dim realised that he had the power to help another pony, and all he had to do was be kind. What did kindness cost him? Not much. Perhaps some of his dignity, but as a currency, a means of exchange, he understood that he would get something in return, something that he too, craved.

What cost was kindness? Affirming the suffering and pain of another? It was an emotional investment to be sure, but surely, he could spare a tiny part of himself so that another might benefit. This is what the knights of old did, they gave all of themselves. Eerie wasn’t asking for much, just his forgiveness. Kindness, one of Equestria’s founding virtues, something that the knights of old were measured by.

Glowering, his face wrinkling from the intensity of his scowling, Dim ceased his struggles and allowed Eerie to lavish her affections upon him. “Ich vergebe dir,” he muttered. “Geliebte Tante.”

Perhaps he had said the wrong thing, because Eerie burst into tears and began sobbing.

The ponies in the mirror were almost a reflection of one another and Dim stared straight ahead at them as Eerie scrubbed the blood from his face. He could not deny that this was somehow relaxing, maybe even more than just that. Yes, he might even call this cathartic. Eerie’s eyes were spiderwebbed with fine, red lines, and every so often she let out a sniffle. Having his face scrubbed like this went beyond his scope of experience as a Dark, and Dim was certain that this was quite a moment for Eerie as well.

Alas, no Dark could leave a peaceful moment be.

“I have been inside of Princess Celestia’s head,” Dim said as Eerie scrubbed on his chin with a light touch, her face scrunched in concentration. “I have seen… things. She is like me—like us—she has a heavy heart for past misdeeds, Eerie.”

“What are you saying, Dim?” Eerie’s soft inquirement caused Dim’s ear to pivot and twitch from side to side.

Now unable to draw this out, Dim got to the point, but felt bad for even saying it. “I do not believe that this is Princess Celestia’s fault. She is too careful, too purposeful to have caused this, even with experimental spells. I will confess, I have long believed that she wished to destroy me, because of what her sun does to me, but now I place the blame for that upon my mother… I think. Anyhow, I do not believe that Princess Celestia would leave behind such a dangerous element that might bring harm, even by accident.”

“Are you saying that I did this?”

“Yes.” The pain in Eerie’s voice ripped at his insides, but Dim did not back down from his position. “Princess Celestia is ageless… timeless… she knows the length and breadth of magic, no doubt. You, on the other hoof, I believe that you attempted to use your psychic influence, and I believe that to be the culprit.”

Eerie sighed, hung her head, and continued to try and rub away the dried, scabbed blood on Dim’s muzzle. The pity that Dim felt for her, he could feel it bruising his insides, and even more confusing, she wasn’t denying it—standard operating procedure for Darks everywhere, deny everything, admit to nothing.

“Even worse, her agent, whomever that alicorn was, she was willing to take the blame for this mistake, even though I do not believe her to be at fault. Rather than have us bicker with one another, or be filled with ill will towards one another, she graciously gave us an out by placing the blame squarely upon herself and her co-conspirators.”

“I will confess to trying to forcibly push her out by saying her name,” Eerie admitted, her voice strained and stretched thin.

“Say it now,” Dim demanded, and Eerie pulled the hot, wet cloth away in surprise and shock.

“Dim, no—”

“Say it now, with no psychic intrusions.”

“Dim, you have made your point.”

“You don’t get to decide when I’ve made my point,” Dim said in a thin, reedy, nasal whisper. “My points are made on my own discretion. If you wish to be family, then you need to stop fucking me.” Eerie’s defiance continued, wearing on his last nerve, and he could feel his dreadful, fiery temper gaining heat and intensity within him. “Now, say it.”

Eerie’s lip protruded in a moody, aristocratic pout and the wet cloth was tossed back into the steaming basin of water. Unable to look at Dim, she looked at Dim in the mirror, his reflection, which had its baleful, dreadful holocaustic stare fixed on her. Ears pinned back, tail tucked low, Eerie stood with her hooves close, almost touching, with everything about her broadcasting apologetic submission. The reek of ozone filled the air, along with the pungent aroma of terror-induced sweat.

“Princess Cadance.” This name was murmured, a fearful utterance, and Eerie dared not raise her voice above a whisper. “Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.” Nothing happened, nothing at all, Dim didn’t do so much as flinch, but Eerie, perhaps realising her own fault in this, most certainly did.

Watching Eerie suffer was not satisfying to Dim, not at all, in fact, it left him feeling empty and achy inside, a most peculiar condition. Gloating had always felt good—a grand thing to experience—but victory now felt like a soul-sapping malaise and tasted like ashes. There was nothing gratifying about this and if anything, he found Eerie’s suffering… repulsive? No, that couldn’t be right, because he didn’t find Eerie repulsive, not at all, but her wretchedness could not be savoured and her dolor brought him no fulfillment.

“I forgive you,” he said in desperation, hoping that this uncomfortable, unpleasant condition that now existed could be somehow dispelled. Like a chamber pot brimming with feces, he wanted this unpleasantness away from him. “I forgive you and bear you no malice.”

“Thank you, Dim… that means much to me…”

Author's Notes:

Nefarious crepitations.