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Things Left Unsaid · FiM Minific ·
Organised by RogerDodger
Word limit 400–750
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The Longest Night
Maybe it's the season; the long nights sending my thoughts to darker places. Or maybe it's just natural to contemplate the past as we step into the new year. Either way, it's become my solstice tradition, and I once again find my hooves opening the ancient scrapbook.

"Elements of Harmony Defeat Changeling Invasion!" the newspaper clipping reads. I sigh as I run my hoof over the yellowed newsprint. That was one of the first. Despite the doubt cast my way, I'd managed to rescue Cadance, and with my friends, defeat Chrysalis and her army. It had felt amazing! But that wasn't the whole story.

Only years later, after I became a princess, did I truly start to see the real costs. Yes, we won, but fifty seven ponies died fighting changelings that day. Afterwards, one hundred and twelve more were found missing, supplanted by impostors in the weeks leading up to the invasion. Chrysalis may have kept Cadance alive, but others weren't worth the effort. Canterlot gained twenty three new orphans that day, and that's not something they ever put in the headlines.

I take a sip of my tea and grimace. I've let the leaves steep too long and the bitter tannins sting under my tongue as I flip to another page. A photo: all of us together with Discord, smiling; a bittersweet memory to go with the bittersweet taste. The photo was taken not long after we released him from stone. Celestia had told me he should be reformed, and I was eager to please. What she hadn't told me, of course, was the full extent of harm he'd caused. Most of it could be undone—buildings righted, transformed animals reverted—but some things...

Two young colts had drowned during his brief reign of chaos, swept away in a flash flood of chocolate milk.

The worst part? I don't think Discord even knew. He was playing games, and even at his worst, never intended to kill. By the time I learned what had happened, it was years later. I couldn't bear to tell him... or Fluttershy. The horror would crush her, and the horror of that might kill the nascent flame of kindness she'd sparked within him. So I kept it to myself, just one more scar beneath the flawless princess facade.

I flip a few more pages. "Crystal Empire Returns!" I smile faintly, remembering Spike's first real moment of heroism. But my smile fades, as I remember the seven thousand five hundred and eighteen broken families that came with it: wives and husbands entering a new world, and finding their loved ones dead for centuries; foals that will never again welcome cousins at Hearth's Warming... and of course more orphans; always the youngest who pay the highest price.

I slug back the last dregs of tea quickly, bracing for the next page I know my hooves will turn to.

Tirek.

I have no pictures, no headlines. What I have is the charred corner of a banner. It once read "Welcome to Ponyville!" but it, and nearly everything else I owned was destroyed when Tirek attacked. I'm ashamed, because I wept for the loss of my books, my lab, and my other precious things. But Spike survived. Owlowiscious survived. My friends survived. Not all were that lucky.

Yes, Tirek only set out to drain magic. But not everypony gave in easily. Twenty nine fought back, and died for it. Part of me curses their foolishness, yet the rest praises their courage. I was scared to fight, even with the combined magic of four alicorns at my control; an honest chance. But what of that lone stallion in the alleyway? What of that old mare at the docks? What chance did they have? Yet they fought!

And then the incidental deaths. The patient whose surgeon couldn't levitate a scalpel, the pegasus who leapt from the balcony and found no magic to catch her wings, the seventeen dead from lack of water purification spells in Appleoosa. Tirek's list is long, and I spend some time recalling them all.

I mark page sixteen and set the book down. It's nine hundred and eighty two pages now, every one a triumph. A perfect record for a perfect princess. Yet for every bright story told, a dozen darker ones lurk unseen. So every year I read, and I do my best to remember all those lost to the shadows of history... to the shadows of my history.

It's going to be a long night.
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