Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara
Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Epilogue
“...And that was how my mamas and papa met. Thank you.”
Standing at the front of class a diminutive filly lowered the sheets and sheets of papers she’d been reading from for quite some time. Peering over their edge she saw several deadpan stares, a few ponies asleep at their desks, and Mrs. Honeysuckle attempting to rub away her exasperation.
“Miss Morta Sparkle,” Mrs. Honeysuckle began, her voice snapping like a ruler on a desk. A unicorn of advancing years, the teacher held her greying blue and pink mane in a harsh bun. On her nose were perched a pair of large, round glasses through which her golden eyes, often narrowed in exasperation, peered.
“Your father did not curse an entire city, raise an army of the undead, and then almost destroy the disc in an apocalyptic battle with your mother, whom, in turn, had turned into Nightmare Moon.”
“But, it’s twoo!” cried Morta, waving her tiny hooves in exasperation. “Mama put a powerful charm over the city to make ponies forget about it, and tasked Vega with keeping watch, so mortals wouldn’t go there and get hurt. It is now a cursed, dark place with no sunshine, love, or any goodness of any sort whatsoever! Tell her, cousin Arengea! Tell her it is twoo!”
At her desk, Arengea gave her head a rapid shake, and held out her hooves as if to ward off her cousin. “Leave me out of this, Morta. Everypony else told you to use the simplified, ‘they met when my father came looking for Athena,’ story.”
Looking for some support, Morta turned to her other cousins, the Muses spread out amongst the classroom. They all pointedly looked away. Polyhymnia whistling a tune, Calliope pretending to focus on her notes, Arche silently mouthing math equations with a glazed look to her eye, Thalia whispering something to her neighbour that drew a snigger, and Clio doodling on her desktop. The Terrors of Canterlot were no help.
As usual.
“Wait, are you saying that Morta is actually telling the truth?” exclaimed a nearby light blue coated colt appropriately named Blue.
“What I want to know is if Algol was ever caught and punished,” spoke up a ceruse filly from a prominent family. “Seems a bit unsatisfying with her getting away like that. Especially since she instigated everything.”
“I thought it was that empress lady who was the bad pony,” added another filly. “Having it switch like that was a little weird. Better to have just one baddie for the heroes to beat.”
“Yeah! And Twilight would never, ever, eeeeeever be as mean as Morta made her out to be!”
“I’m more upset that Lord Hades didn’t get his come-uppance! I mean, he was the cause of the curse and then he beat up Twilight in the first fight, but they hardly fight at all when she is a titan? Lame!”
A usually soft-spoke filly near the back of the room jumped up. “That’s because Hades was smart enough to know better than to fight a titan alone. He did what he could and avoided a direct confrontation. Unlike the supposed Goddess of Wisdom, who just got her flank kicked.”
“Oh, please, we all know that your family is a bunch of death worshippers, Catacomb! Of course you would take Hades’ side.”
“Naturally,” shot back the ashen grey filly, flipping her black mane over her shoulder, “Which other alicorn would a mortuary worship than the God of the Dead? Hades is obviously the best alicorn, as he tends to the souls of everypony when they die.”
“Nuh-uh! It’s Zeus! The King of the Alicorns is clearly the best.”
“Queen Celestia! She is the only one who Zeus listens to.”
“What about Princess Fluttershy? She is so pretty and mysterious…”
“Queen Luna is best alicorn; fight me!”
Every student began shouting the names of their preferred alicorn, creating a riotous din. All the while Morta shrank a little lower at her spot in the front of the class. Even Mrs. Honeysuckle’s usual calls for order went unheeded as the argument grew.
“Come on, girls, we’re getting off-topic! What is important is that Morta totally lied in her report!” The ring-leader jumped up from her desk and took a spot before her classmates, only returning to her seat with a prim smile once everypony else had quieted down. As she sat back down, she added, “The start of the Age of Alicorns was totally different in the history books.”
This drew a few nods and murmured affirmatives.
“Morta is almost as bad as Calliope for making up tall-tales. No way half of what she said ever happened,” the ashen filly said in her carrying whisper.
“Come on, that’s stretching things. Calliope is the biggest fibber in the school, and has been since my mom was a student here.” Blue stuck out his tongue at Calliope.
At the desk next to the colt, Calliope snapped her pencil, shoved back her stool, flipped her cobalt blue and black streaked mane over her shoulder, and towered over the colt. Sadistic fire crackled in her sapphire eyes. Smoke curled from her mane as it danced like a basket of vipers. Her entire body glowed with rising tides of aether that sparked along the fluted ridges of her horn. Calliope was quickly caught on either side by two of her sisters, Polyhymnia and Arche soothing her, while Arengea sniggered.
Sensing his very mortal peril, the colt shrank down until he was almost under his desk.
“You are so dead, Blue,” teased Arengea. “Rolled a natural one there.”
“Poets will sing of your demise through the rest of this age,” Thalia added from across the classroom. “Blue, Blue, he had no clue. Oh, what was the idiot to do? Run, run, fleet as a fox. Nope, too late, he was blown out of his sox!”
The class burst into a chorus of laughter, some repeating the rhymes, others pounding a hoof to their desk.
“Girls! Girls! Calliope, Arengea, Thalia! Celestia help me; don’t make me send you to the principal! Again!”
In perfect harmony the Muses zipped back to their desks and intoned in sickly sweet voices, “We’re sorry, Mrs. Honeysuckle,” with all-too innocent smiles.
Under her breath, Calliope grumbled, “But he started it.”
“If we can get back to the matter at hoof,” Mrs. Honeysuckle said, raising her voice so everypony knew to drop the subject. “While it was certainly an, uh, entertaining story, Miss Sparkle, I’m afraid you’re only going to get partial marks. This wasn’t a creative writing assignment, after-all.”
Ears wilting, Morta shrank underneath the looks of her classmates and teacher. Only her cousins showed any sympathy, but they would not risk incurring another in a long list of trips to the principal's office. Bereft of allies, and with everypony suspicious because she claimed to have friends who were dead—Sombra was nowhere near as bad as the history books made out!—and spend her weekends in the Underworld—which was why she couldn’t have friends over to visit—if anypony had wanted to visit her, that is—Morta gave a quiet apology, and slunk back to her desk.
The rest of class was spent shooting furtive glances at the clock above the door, willing it to spin faster so she could go home and crawl into bed and hide from the cruel disc. Slowly the hours ticked. Far too slowly. Mind numbingly slowly. As if the clock was aware of her embarrassment and wanted to drag it out for all the disc to enjoy.
Tick-tick-tock.
In the background, Mrs. Honeysuckle’s voice warbled with some basic math lessons.
Tock-tock-tick…
Blue pantomimed being a ghost. A favourite of the mortals when they teased her.
Tick-tock-tick…
Stupid clock.
Morta bet it was in cahoots with the dark kings of Hell, placed here just to drag out her torment.
Did it just count backwards?! No… She was imagining it.
She jittered a leg under her desk. She could feel glares on the back of her head.
Why did Mrs. Honeysuckle always make her sit at the front of the class?! Right where everypony could stare at her. Judge her.
And why wouldn’t that stupid, lazy clo—A sharp clanging filled the classroom as the clock struck three, and class was ajourned.
Mrs. Honeysuckle had long since given up even attempting to control her class when it was time to leave. An uproarious cacophony filled the classroom as the Muses hurled books into their bags, eager to get home. Calliope and Aoide shouted across the room plans to meet up with their best friends from class 1-B. Arengea and Thalia discussed ideas for a new game. Polyhymnia broke out into a solo song. Arche shouted questions about homework, but was drowned out by her sisters. Clio was the only one who was quiet and reserved, daintily sorting out her school supplies while her sisters carried on making noise. At the same instant the doors were flung open by their father.
“Come on, girls!” Zeus called in his usual, booming voice, laughter just barely contained beneath the surface as he entered the classroom.
“Daddy!” the Muses shouted out, jumping around and onto Zeus. Arengea and Calliope hung from his wings, while Arche bit his tail, growling like a dog.
“Oh-ha-ha! Look at you girls go! Filled with spit and thunder today! You were good for your teacher, hmm? Didn’t cause Mrs. Honeysuckle too many problems?”
“Of course, daddy!” the Muses intoned in unison sing-song tones, all smiles and innocence.
From behind her desk, Mrs. Honeysuckle gave her head an exasperated shake. “Mr. Thunderer,” she said, pushing up her large glasses as she glared at the God of Storms, “How many times must you be told that parents are to wait outside school grounds?”
“At least once more!” Zeus chuckled, gathered up his daughters, and set off down the hallways. Slowly, the riotous cacophony of the family faded, and then was gone.
Behind the Muses, the rest of the class departed in far more normal levels of energy and noise.
Despite her very fervent desire to leave, Morta was the last one out of the classroom. She didn’t want to bump into any of her classmates, and decided to give them ample time to disperse and find better things to do than tease her. Peeking around corners to make sure the coast was clear, Morta snuck out one of the side doors, dashed across the playground, and into the family carriage situated on the street.
Waiting at the door, prim and proper as always, was her hoofmaid and nanny; Miss Marmalade Apple. A plain brown mare in her early twenties, she was a distant cousin of some-sort, though Morta had never bothered to figure out the logistics.
Bowing her head a little as she pulled the carriage door open, Marmalade asked, “How did your presentation go, your Highness?”
“Don’t want to talk about it,” Morta mumbled into her legs. “Ewerypony thought I was making up thtories again.”
Climbing into the carriage and sitting across from her mistress, Marmalade put on a warm smile.
“Well, that is their problem, your Highness. You know you told the truth. It is up to them to decide whether to believe you or not. Besides, you have a big evening ahead to worry about. So, let’s look forward to that instead.”
“We do?” Morta looked up, trying to remember what Marmalade was talking about.
“The gala, your Highness, tonight is the gala commemorating the thirtieth anniversary of the Ascension of the Stars! Thirty years since your mother took her rightful place among the other alicorns. Honestly, it doesn’t surprise me you forgot, what with how intent you’ve been working on your report. This is the first time the entire pantheon will have gathered since you were born, making it a truly special occasion. The Queen and First Princess of the Taiga are already in town, and the King of Tartarus will arrive tonight. Then there are the Princess and Prince of the Crystal City, along with the Duke and Duchess of Yoke. Plus…”
Morta rolled her eyes and let out a huff as Miss Marmalade continued to list the various guests, all of whom were relatives in some fashion or other. “I see Gwanny Iwidia and Aunt Soir all the time. And what is so special about papa being here? To thay nothing of Cadence and uncle Shiny. They live half the year in Canterlot!”
Marmalade was not put out, and just smiled and reached over to pat Morta’s hoof.
“Yes, but the God of the Dead is very rarely seen on the disc. It is a special night, even if it seems ordinary to you, your Highness.”
Frowning, Morta didn’t see what was so special about her father visiting Ioka. And he always made time for her in Tartarus. The line of souls to be judged could stretch to the furthest gates of the city, and he’d abandon his throne to spend time with his family. If anything, he made maybe a little too much time.
To say he was doting was an understatement.
Dolls filled her rooms in Tartarus, Canterlot, and Reinalla to the ceiling. She had entire chambers dedicated to her dresses. Boxes upon boxes of hats and ribbons. And the treats. So many sweets she was a little sick of them. Cupcakes, muffins, cakes, and maranges to fill a hundred bakeries.
Morta felt a little quessy just thinking about sugary confections. Maybe that had been his plan all along. Make her sick of treats so she wouldn’t want them anymore and would eat her peas and carrots with a smile. If it had been, then it had worked.
The carriage rolled through a side gate to the Solarium Palace, formerly known as Canterlot Castle. A new wing had been added to the castle in the past few decades. A soaring front with Gaean columns before twelve tall winds filled with stained glass images of the primary alicorns of Ioka.
Down the right side were the six of the Day; Celestia, regal and crowned by Sol; Zeus, hurling his thunderbolt; Iridia, clutching a budding flower in a rolling field; Faust, working at a loom; Tyr, with her scales above her head, and sword lain across her lap; and lastly Fleur, holding a scroll in one hoof, and Aegis strapped to the other.
To the left ranged the six of the Night; Luna, beautiful and serene beneath Selene; Twilight, swimming through a midnight sea of star; Soir, laughing as she was surrounded by a murmur of small birds; Hades, cold and judgemental on his hallowed throne with supplicants bowing; and Cadence, playing looking on at a pair of lovers beneath a starry sky. The final window was empty. Left blank. The final member of the six remained undetermined.
It was a topic of discussion and conjecture, even after several years. Some ponies favoured the Muses as a group, others thought that the position belonged to Demeter, Fluttershy, or even Poseidon. His group of adherents was perhaps the smallest, owing to the slight fact that he visited even less often than Hades, and unlike Zeus, who’d decided to abandon Gaea in favour of Ioka for the time being, remained firmly entrenched in the affairs of that other world, acting as its new King of the Gods with his brother’s absence.
Morta knew who belonged on that last window. It was her aunt Rarity, returned from Tartarus after many trials and adventures. She was mother to a third of the Muses, wife to Celestia and Zeus, and the Goddess of Beauty.
To say Rarity was the only real choice was an understatement.
Still, Rarity mostly stayed away from the public eye, rarely seen even decades after her return.
Behind the windows was a new throne room, one with thrones for each of the alicorns depicted on the windows. The alicorns took turns presiding over the expanded court. Some of the thrones were rarely occupied, Hades in particular only joining when he was needed, while a few were always in attendance, like Celestia and Fleur.
It wasn’t Equestria they ruled either, governance for the nation having been passed to a democratic council headed by the Prime Minister. Rather, they listened to the needs of petitioners seeking guidance, blessings, or just wanting to see the gods that tended to so many aspects of the world.
This day, the line of petitioners was especially long, snaking out of the palace grounds and around the block.
In a few hours, a long stream of carriages for the rich, famous, or important would begin arriving. Diplomats, business ponies, and artists pouring into the massive hall for a night of schmoozing.
And she would have to be there the entire time.
Morta groaned at the prospect.
“Come now, at least you will have company,” Marmalade pointed out. “All the other young princesses are in Canterlot for the gala as well.”
Morta grunted a noncommittal noise, and sank lower in her seat as the carriage came to a stop. She slank to the doors, and moped in the corridors, and mumbled into the modest room next to her parents. She could hear them chatting as they got ready for the evenings’ festivities, but was unable to make out the words. Her father’s brassy tones mingled with a smooth silken hum punctuated by sharper avian chirping.
Morta was quickly dressed with Marmalade’s expert assistance. She really didn’t want to go to the party, and made this known continually.
“Can’t I just thtay here in my wooms? Nopony will even notice I’m missing!” Morta whined as Marmalade fitted a jeweled necklace about her throat.
“I will,” came her mother’s voice from the doorway.
Twilight wore the finest dress of rich navy blue and gold trim, with a flowing elegant train just a little reminiscent of a bridal gown. Perched above her horn was a bone crown of carved ponies in an angelic choir, signalling her as a Queen of the Underworld. Her twinkling mane was made into an elaborate braid held together with gold chains and diamonds. The only simple jewelery was the necklace given to her by Iridia so many years before. She smiled, a brilliant flash of white that sparkled with her eyes.
“How did the history report go?” Twilight asked with keen interest as she replaced Marmalade, taking up combs, ribbons, and powders to help her daughter prepare for the gala.
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Morta muttered, dropping her gaze to the floor. “Ewrypony thought I was lying, and the Muses wouldn’t speak up and just made it worse.”
Clicking her tongue, Twilight pinched Morta’s cheek. “You wanted to tell the truth, and you did. Nopony can control what other ponies believe.”
“I don’t wanna go to school no more. Why can’t I be homeschooled? Or get a tutor, or thomething!”
“School is important to learn how to socialise and interact with other ponies, not just learning math and history,” Twilight patiently said as she worked on braiding Morta’s chalk white mane.
“But—!”
“Listen to your mother,” Hades’ rumbled as he strode into the room, Luna at his side, one of his wings draped protectively over her withers.
“Indeed,” Luna added her weight to the conversation with a sharp nod. “All little fillies and colts must go to school. I wish I had when I was your age.”
Luna’s dress matched Twilights, just with dark, velvety lavender in place of the blue so they looked like complimentary reflections. The only major difference was Tamashi, the sword in a ceremonial scabbard along Luna’s left side, and shrunken in size through some arcane method known only to Luna.
Detaching herself from Hades, Luna joined Twilight, taking up a long silver chain to bind Morta’s mane.
Whining pointless, Morta settled for silently moping as her mothers set about finishing the task of getting her ready.
Eyes sparkling with delight as he surveyed his wives working, Hades conjured a cigar—a favourite vice ever since he’d been introduced to them a few years prior by Big Macintosh. He’d gotten so far as clipping the end and summoning a floating flame when Twilight cleared her throat.
“Not in Morta’s bedroom, dear.”
“Ah, right, a thousand apologies, my loves,” Hades banished cigar and flame, and took Twilight’s wing with his own. “Have I said how ravishing you both are this evening? Your beauty stunned me of my senses, otherwise I would never have been so foolish.”
He followed up with a series of kisses that flowed along Twilight’s wing, up the curve of her neck, to her lips, and down the other side, before carrying on to Luna. Twilight rolled her eyes with a giggle and ever-so-slight shake of the head. Luna reciprocated the kiss once is reached her lips, wrapping a leg around Hades’ neck.
“Ew! Not in my room!” Morta stuck out her tongue, and her parents disengaged with deep blushes.
She knew they’d be back to kissing the moment she turned her back. Her parents could hardly keep their hooves off each other. Especially when her mothers were all dressed up. It was like catnip to Hades.
Deciding to take advantage of the momentary embarrassment that flashed across her parent’s faces, Morta quickly said, “Please, let me take home thcooling. I don’t wanna go to school anymore.” Morta added in a sniffle, for extra emphasis. “The Muses don’t play with me. All the other foals think I’m weird. And Mrs. Honeysuckle is so mean.”
“Well, your father and I can have a talk with your teacher.”
“Mo~om, that will just make things worthe!”
“Well, how about this?” Twilight spread a wing over Morta’s brow, and when she retracted it, a star was tucked behind Morta’s ear. “You can have Vega, this way you’ll have somepony to talk to when you need a friendly ear. A friend, just for you and you alone. How does that sound?”
Hoof shaking, Morta reached up and touched the star. Vega gave a pleased chirp, laughed, and burrowed into Morta’s mane like she was making a nest.
“But, mom, thtars sleep during the day,” Morta said in a hushed tone, but she smiled wide. “And wont ponies think I’m even weirder? And, doesn’t she need to watch over you-know-where so the undeadies don’t escape?”
Laughing, Twilight ruffled her daughter’s mane, then groaned as she had to set about fixing it back up.
“Well, ponies thought I was weird when I was your age. Ponies think a lot of silly things, especially about those who are a little different. You just have to learn how to let it go. Once they see it doesn’t bother you, they will leave you alone if they are bullies, and think you are ‘cool’ or ‘hip’ if they are the popularity seeking types. I have it on very good authority!” Twilight nodded, and her smile was etched with certainty.
Morta was far less certain than her mother, but she appreciated the effort.
Chuckling, Hades stepped around so that he was in front of his daughter. He picked her up and set her on his back as the family started towards the ballroom.
“As for Southstone Spires,” he said, “that is for me and your mothers to worry about.” He then leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper. “And between us, pumpkin, I’ve placed a few agents in the area to keep ponies away. Nothing like a few rumours of vampires to keep all but the most determined at bay, eh?”
Morta nodded, pleased with the explanation.
Nearing the gala, Morta could hear it was already in full swing. She was put down, dress straightened, and then they were introduced by the crier. She tried her best to appear dignified, but felt so small next to her beautiful mothers and stoic father. Stiffly she marched into the ballroom as her name was called with her relatively meagre list of titles. After the long list given for her father and mothers, it was rather short, and she winced at ‘Princess of Tartarus’.
It turned out she needn't worry, the Muses already the center of attention so that few ponies were paying attention to anything else. Celestia, Zeus, and Rarity had their own sizable gatherings, with a few dancers already on the floor. A little to one side a small cluster of zebras in their colourful clothes began to make their way towards the family.
“Empress Hattmettren,” Twilight greeted the zebrican princess as she approached, and the politicking for the night began, “How is your mother?”
“Still a little stiff whenever your name is brought up,” answered the middle-aged princess. “May I introduce you to my daughter, the crown-princess of Zebrica?”
The gentle music the band played suddenly shifted to a soothing melody that conjured images of lovers bathed in Selene’s graceful light as Hades and Luna reached the dance floor’s edge.
“A tango, dear? So soon?” Luna’s eyes danced as she was swept up by Hades, leaving Twilight to meet with the ponies heading in their direction.
The music swelled, the violin giving a mournful cry answered by the piona, and the bassy humm of the cello. Their hooves skipped to the beat, a space quickly made for the pair as they spun, dipped, and swept across the dancefloor in passion and beauty in equal measure. No dancers were as famed as Luna and Hades, their tangos legendary throughout the disc for their sensual artistry. All eyes were on the duo, and the Muses began to add their own, special magic to the music in the form of a melodic chorus.
Twilight stamped her hooves to the beat, and whistled as Hades dipped Luna, kissed her on her fiery lips, and then tossed her overhead. She landed, caught his wing, and then spun him in turn. The music reached a crescendo, and Hades and Luna embraced again. Twilight laughed, clapping at the antics of her husband and wife.
As the dance ended, the Muses took center stage, their powerful voices reaching from the ballroom over the gardens, and out to the city beyond in gospel notes.
“Regale me, O’ Muses,” the crowd intoned together, demanding one of the many tales of Rarity and Trixie Lulamoon, and their adventures escaping the Underworld, their time on distant Gaea, and their return home.
It was a night to remember. Everything in the disc was right and at peace, if only for a brief time.
In the north, over the rim of the disc, hovered a giant, red sun around which a bale of world-turtles swam.
Ioka tossed back her continent sized head as she gave a mighty cry to her kin that echoed across the empty expanse of space between worlds.