In which our heroine catches her breath, Royalty attempts reconciliation, and Murphy intervenes.
Teagan closed her eyes and let out a sigh of contented bliss as she sank into the oversized train seat. The seat was intended for ponies and so lower and wider than a human could comfortably sit in, but Teagan snuggled back, letting her legs sprawl where they would.
“Heaven,” she murmured. “For the next two hours all I have to do is relax and let somebody else be in charge.”
Emma giggled, imitating her friend’s posture—or lack of it. Given the seat was meant for two ponies the human girls had plenty of room.
“Such accommodations are not suited to trolls,” Søyle grunted as she tried to find a comfortable position. Being taller, broader, and longer legged than the two teenagers a similar posture was simply out of the question. She compromised by sitting cross-legged. The seat was barely roomy enough for her bulk.
Skrent and Flint didn’t even try to sit down, standing with bowed heads to fit their eight-foot height into the six foot interior. Teagan didn’t envy them standing that way for two hours.
“Guys, maybe you can sit in the aisle? I’m sure the conductor could bring you pillows,” she said. “Two hours like that and you’re going to have such a crick in your necks it won’t be funny.”
Skrent said something to Flint in Trollish that made Søyle huff in amusement. Flint wordlessly lowered himself into the aisle, carefully wedging himself between the seats. Grunting in annoyance he shifted, unslinging his long slender club and handing it to his brother. Skrent unslung his own club and placed the two flat, sliding them under three seats to be out of the way. Then he carefully stepped over his brother and turned to face him before basically collapsing on the floor with a thud.
Sun Hammer grinned at the two trolls from where he lay sideways, taking up an entire seat.
“Och, laddies, nou ye ken how A feel,” the pony chuckled. “Tis nae always handy bein’ big boned, nae it be.”
The six of them were alone in the car, the conductor having declared it having reached its weight limit.
“Dronning, before we meet the rest of the ætt I must relate the proper forms of greeting,” Søyle said. “Emma, it would be well for you to learn as well.”
“The what?” Teagan asked.
“The ætt,” Søyle repeated. “It means clan of purpose, instead of clan of blood. You see?”
“Not really,” Teagan shook her head. “I thought a clan was a family, like for humans and ponies.”
“Ja. That would be klanen av blodet,” Søyle nodded. “Clan of the blood, trolls who are related by having the same ancestors. Klanen av formålet, clan of purpose, trolls who agree to be clan-bound for a purpose. They are family, but not by blood, but still just as much family as the parents who gave you life. Much as ponies are to you.”
“Ponies are klanen av blodet, Søyle,” Teagan corrected her. “Emma is klanen av formålet.”
“That is not possible, Dronning,” Søyle said, clearly confused. “To be klanen av blodet ponies and humans would have to be related by having ancestors in common.”
“We do,” Teagan said smiling. Emma and Søyle looked at her with equally shocked expressions.
“I had heard that ponies were—flexible—in such matters, but to actually bear children? How is this possible, Dronning?” Søyle asked delicately.
“That isn’t what I mean,” Teagan waved her hand to dismiss the idea. “Long ago, ponies came to Equestria via the Bridge of Days, just like Emma and I did today.”
Teagan paused, blinking.
“God, has it only been one day? It feels like a week! Anyway, the first time there was no Bridge for them. So a capall, a magical horse, made a deal with other powerful magical creatures in my world to build the Bridge. The capall’s name was Epona. She and her kind lived with my clan a thousand years ago. But my clan was attacked by another group of humans called Melesians, and faced utter destruction. So a deal was struck and a terrible price was paid. You see the Bridge couldn’t carry my ancestors and the capall. But it could carry ponies. There was a race of small ponies on an island that lived lives filled with harsh cruelty, and it was those ponies that crossed over.”
“But the bargain was that when a capall and their human rider fell in battle, part of their spirits would merge with the pony, crossing over with it. So each pony in Equestria is actually a melding of pony, human, and capall. Ponies are quite literally one third human. I’m related to them because one third of every pony in Equestria is Clan O’Gara. My clan.”
Teagan’s statement left Emma and the trolls speechless. Even Flint looked pole-axed.
“Klanen av sjelen,” Søyle breathed in disbelief. “Clan of the soul. Min Dronning, I have never heard of such a thing!”
“Aye, lass. Tis true. A heard the tale o’ Clan O’Gara and the Bridge of Days from me own Nana when A was naught but a wee foal,” Sun Hammer said. “Tis why the Princess an’ Teelo be as close as they be.”
“Is that why Princess Celestia kept calling you cousin?” Emma asked. “I thought that was just some kind of queen to queen thing.”
“Actually, European royalty used to call each other cousin because they were cousins,” Teagan said, chuckling. “Europe’s kind of small, and they didn’t have a lot of royal families, so they kept marrying each other. Made a bit of a mess, really.”
“So Princess Celestia really is your cousin?” Emma asked incredulously.
“Well, actually she and Luna are my great-great-great, um yeah. You get the idea. Like fifteen generations away but they really are my cousins. Twilight tells me Celestia and Luna were carried across the Bridge in their mother’s womb. They were the first ponies actually born in Equestria, and legend says Epona and Daghda the clan leader, were the spirits that merged with Celestia and Luna.”
“Does Fjell know of this?” Søyle asked after digesting the astounding news.
“I really don’t know,” Teagan answered. “It’s not a secret, but Twilight says not a lot of ponies know the story anymore so I don’t imagine the trolls do either. I know I never mentioned it to him. We had a lot of other stuff to hash out so there wasn’t much time for storytelling. Why?”
Søyle looked at her with almost comical shock. “This changes everything, min Dronning!”
“Why?” Teagan asked again, patiently. “I’m still the same girl, Søyle. Ponies and trolls are both part of my clan. That all happened over a year ago. Nothing has changed since then.”
Søyle shook her head in frustration.
“Nei, min Dronning!” She said urgently. “Vi visste ikke! Hvis vi hadde kjent…”
“Hest språk, Kona Søyle,” Skrent rumbled.
“My apologies, Dronning,” Søyle shifted to English (Equestrian?). “Had we known about this we would not have insulted the ponies at every turn. I myself am ashamed for my actions,” Søyle slumped, watching Teagan with sagging features, the trollish equivalent of tears, although her queen was currently ignorant of that fact.
“What actions, Søyle? As far as I know you haven’t done anything wrong,” Teagan said, bewildered. “What did you do?”
“When Fjell praised you at every turn I was jealous, min Dronning,” Søyle met Teagan’s eyes. “Away from him I would complain of the attention he paid you—for I believed you unworthy of such praise, unworthy to bear Mountain Heart. In my heart of hearts I truly believed that the ponies had managed to enchant Mountain Heart such that it betrayed us and served you—and that you served them. I was wrong to do this, I fear I am forsworn.”
Flint growled and Søyle flinched.
Teagan panicked. Being forsworn was one of the worst crimes a troll could commit. It meant banishment, or worse. For the king’s wife to be thought forsworn…
“Flint, stop!” Teagan said forcefully. “Søyle, unless you did something you can’t be foresworn. You know that! Did you actually do anything?”
“She doubted you, Dronning,” Skrent growled, “After swearing to serve you. That is bad.”
“It seems to me,” Emma broke in, “that she got jealous and complained about her husband lavishing praise on another woman. That’s not bad, that’s normal,” she looked at the troll sitting in the aisle. “It looks like troll men are just as clueless as human ones when it comes to women,” she sniffed, making Skrent wrinkle his brow in puzzlement.
“When did you get so wise?” Teagan said, a chuckle forcing itself out of her at the look on Skrent’s face. “Skrent, relax. Søyle, Emma’s right. You didn’t know me, you had no idea what a human even was. Do you still think I’m not fit to be queen?”
“Aldri, min Dronning!” Søyle exclaimed fiercely. “I have seen the strålende raseri engulf you! I have seen your motet, I bear witness that you are the Dronning av Fjellet!”
And then she did something that shocked Sun Hammer and the two girls.
“Jeg påstår blø hvis du spør,” she drew one of her claws lightly across her chest. Her thick skin split and blood welled up from a three inch long gash. Skrent and Flint relaxed, and nodded in satisfaction.
“No!” Teagan yelled and dove for her backpack, frantically digging until she found the first aid kit. She tore it open, and grabbed the tape and gauze. She tore a strip of gauze long enough to cover Søyle’s self-inflicted wound and pressed it against the surprised troll’s chest.
“Emma! Hold this!” Teagan snapped. The other girl scrambled to obey, face pale but determined. Teagan ripped a piece of tape with her teeth and applied it to the gauze to hold it in place. Three more strips followed.
“Okay, you can let go now,” Teagan said, eyeing the gauze, which had bled through but seemed to be holding. Wordlessly she repacked her first-aid kit and replaced it in her pack. Then she turned back to the troll, who was eyeing the gauze on her chest curiously.
“Are you insane? Don’t you ever injure yourself like that again! Do you understand me?” Teagan’s voice was shaking with anger, which confused all three trolls, who were staring at her wide eyed.
“What is wrong, Dronning?” Skrent asked. “Søyle gave you her blood oath as an apology. Why are you angry with her?”
“What?” Teagan stared at her bodyguard. “What are you talking about? She cut herself!”
“Yes. How else could she draw blood?” The troll asked, tilting his head like the world’s ugliest puppy. “You need blood for a blood oath, Dronning.”
Teagan felt her world slip, the same way it had when she’d seen the army of rabbits at Fluttershy’s house, or when Fjell had announced he was going to marry her. She could almost hear the cosmic needle scratching across the universe.
“Okay, wait. Cutting is bad, Skrent. Blood should stay inside. Emma, back me up here.”
“Yeah, what she said,” Emma said, nodding vigorously. “I get that Søyle’s really sorry, but cutting yourself is going way too far.”
“You do not accept my oath, Dronning?” Søyle asked sadly.
“Is this some weird troll custom I’ve never heard of?” Teagan demanded, hoping somebody would start making sense soon.
“Blood oath is ancient magic, Dronning. Søyle is swearing her life to your service. Is the way to prove her loyalty to you. Also, apologize for her overtredelse.”
“Her what?” Teagan asked, completely lost by now.
“My offense, Dronning,” Søyle said. “You have never heard of blood oaths? Humans do not have them?”
“Well, yeah we do, but I don’t think they actually work,” Teagan said. “I mean we don’t have magic. Nobody actually swears using blood anymore, with all the diseases going around it would be too dangerous, it might even kill you!”
Søyle blinked in confusion. “How can drawing your own blood kill you? You never claw deeply, or near a major vein.”
“Well, the way humans do it is they each make a small cut on their hand, then when they shake hands the blood mixes,” Teagan said. “At least I think that’s how it was done. Like I said, nobody does it anymore, it’s too dangerous. You never know if the other person has some blood borne disease or something.”
“Humans are very strange,” Søyle said, shaking her head.
Humans are strange? Teagan thought incredulously. Søyle, trolls have no room to talk about strange!
But she didn’t say it aloud.
ooOoo
Celestia paused in front of the door to Chrysalis’s room, debating how she wanted this confrontation to go. She’d already had Discord remain in the lobby, and now she bade her escort to wait outside the door.
Drawing a calming breath she knocked on the door with her hoof.
There was no answer, so Celestia knocked again.
“Enter,” the familiar voice made her tense imperceptibly. She readied a combat spell, just in case, then opened the door and stepped inside.
Chrysalis was lying on her belly, facing the door. The covers were supported over her hindquarters with a framework so they didn’t touch her back.
“Well, well. Come to gloat, Celestia? I have to admit your pawn laid me low. So go ahead. Enjoy your victory, Princess,” the changeling queen sneered.
“I haven’t come to gloat, Chrysalis,” Celestia replied. “I have come to see if you represent any further danger to Equestria.”
“And what if I do, you pretentious horse?” Chrysalis mocked her. “Will I end up in your statuary garden like Tišina?”
“You know about Tišina?” Celestia asked mildly.
“Of course I know. My children go everywhere. They hear things. Besides, that ape told me about it—between her threats to kill me.”
“Lady Teagan threatened to kill you?” Celestia asked, eyes narrowing. “That really is not like her.”
“Oh, trust me, it is,” the queen said darkly. “She is a monster truly worthy of serving you. Where do you find such murderous yet loyal souls, Celestia? I would have thought Tartarus would have called them home long before now.”
“I see our time apart has done nothing to dull your tongue,” Celestia replied.
“Perhaps seeing my children murdered before my eyes has something to do with that,” the queen hissed. Celestia flinched. “Ah, so your black heart has a rotten soft spot after all!”
She spat on the floor, which Celestia carefully ignored.
“Subtle Dancer murdered hundreds of my children! Shining Armor did as well! And yet they are out there, free, and I am in here. Is this your vaunted justice, Celestia? Forgive me if I don’t rise to applaud!”
“You invaded Equestria, Chrysalis. You were the one who drained Shining Armor and made his spell fail. Your children’s lives are on your own head, not mine,” Celestia replied, outwardly calm but inwardly sad.
“I was attempting to save my children, Celestia. They starve while you and your furry pony folk grow fat! Where is the justice in that?”
“Were you also attempting to save your children when you attacked Subtle Dancer and Lady Teagan today?” Celestia asked with a hint of anger.
The changeling queen smiled, finally having scored a hit.
“No, Celestia. That was vengeance.”
“Against me?” Celestia asked coldly.
“Against you, and everything you love,” Chrysalis bared her long fangs. “It was a first strike—to rob you of one of your allies, Princess. With Subtle Dancer out of the picture it would be that much harder for you to defend against my next strike, and the one after that, and the one after that. Until Equestria lost all her major defenders and my children could finally eat in peace.”
“I see,” Celestia studied the changeling queen, who made no effort to hide her disdain for the alicorn. “Tell me, if you could feed without harming other creatures would you? Would you give up your vengeance?”
“You propose peaceful coexistence?” Chrysalis snickered. “Please. The only insult I will not give you is believing you are stupid. We both know your ponies would never let my children feed unless they were tricked into it. Even if Subtle Dancer and Shining Armor hadn’t murdered my children, we cannot coexist. Ponies would not allow it, nor would you.”
“Answer my question. If you could feed without harming others, would you give up your vengeance? It is not a hypothetical question.”
Chrysalis stared hard at Celestia, thinking furiously.
“What game are you playing, horse?” Chrysalis finally snarled.
“No game. It is within my power to grant you and your children safety and prosperity. The question is which do you want more? To see your children safe, happy, and prosperous? Or to punish me by destroying Equestria?”
“Your ponies may believe you are all sweetness and light, Celestia,” Chrysalis said after a long internal debate. “But we both know that’s not true. You would tell any lie, do any deed to protect your precious ponies.”
“Yes, I would,” the alicorn said serenely. “I would even forgive my enemy and strive to give her back that which she lost.”
“You can give me back my children?” Chrysalis laughed bitterly.
“That is beyond my power, alas. But I can heal your broken spine and give you back what was taken from you all those thousands of years ago.”
Chrysalis stared at the alicorn, trying to make sense of what she’d just said.
“What are you talking about?”
“You have not always been a changeling, have you?” Celestia said quietly. “I know what happened to you. I know what you lost, and I know how to give it back to you.”
“Liar! How could you possibly know that?” Chrysalis shouted. “You’re just an upstart, Celestia! I’ve been queen of the changelings for nearly six thousand years! I remember the coming of ponies to Equestria! If you think to taunt me with empty promises you can just go away.”
Green light flashed up and down her misshapen horn in a clear warning.
Celestia took one step backward and her horn lit up with soft golden light. In a voice that echoed from places that do not, in the strictest sense, actually exist, she spoke.
“I swear upon my magic and my rule, that I, Celestia, Princess of the land of Equestria, know what happened to Chrysalis the changeling queen, and I know how to undo it. Should she take a magical oath to forgo her vengeance then I pledge to see that long-ago injustice ended, and affirm I have the means to undo that which was wrought that day. So mote it be.”
Both rulers felt the implosion of magic that signaled the spell had taken hold.
“My oath is powerless without your own,” Celestia said with a tiny smile. “Will you take your vengeance or reclaim your birthright, Your Majesty? You cannot do both.”
“Fine,” Chrysalis grumbled. Her horn lit up with a blaze of green.
“I, Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, upon my magic and my rule, do hereby vow to give up my vengeance against Celestia in return for her keeping her own vow. Happy?”
“Ah, ah, ah!” Celestia waggled her hoof. “Aren’t you forgetting somepony?”
Chrysalis growled. “And I pledge to cause no harm to Subtle Dancer or Shining Armor upon the completion of our vows,” she raised an eyebrow at Celestia, who nodded, smiling.
“So mote it be.”
The spell promptly imploded. Light exploded from the two rulers, swirling in bands of gold and green, the colors sinking into each.
“That itches,” Chrysalis complained.
“A small price to pay to end six thousand years of injustice,” Celestia said complacently.
“No, I mean it really itches,” Chrysalis said urgently. She started scratching frantically. Celestia watched for a moment, taken aback.
“Are you—oh my,” Celestia’s eyes widened. Her hide twitched in several places, as if she were dislodging a swarm of flies. “You didn’t—oh dear—mix—whinny—any other spell—ah!—into your oath did you?” Celestia turned her head and bit her shoulder where a particularly bothersome itch was making itself impossible to ignore.
“No!” Chrysalis retorted. “Why is this—horse apples—why is this happening? And how is my tail itching? I can’t even feel my hindquarters!”
“I think I may—oh!—know what’s going on,” Celestia said grimly. “I’ll be right back,” she teleported out, leaving Chrysalis alone.
The queen started squirming as best she could with the rear three-quarters of her body immobile. She let loose with a stream of curses in two dozen languages, learned over six thousand years.
The itching got worse.
ooOoo
Earth, Saturday morning, May 28, 2013 9:53 AM
Back on Earth Teagan’s parents along with Matt and Elaine stared at the letter and business card they’d found in their door upon their return.
Kansas Department for Children and Families
Dear Mr. and Mrs. O’Gara,
The DCF has received a report concerning the possible neglect of your daughter Teagan. In order to investigate this report in the most expedient manner possible a social worker has been assigned to your case (N754683-26). Please cooperate fully with your social worker so this matter may be resolved with the least inconvenience to everyone concerned.
Please be aware that failure to cooperate fully and completely with DCF personnel will prolong our investigation and result in needless stress and may result in further investigations and/or corrective action.
Sincerely,
Rachel Padgett
Director
Department of Children and Families.
The card listed the social worker’s name as Mia Gant.
“Is it time to panic now?” Elaine asked her husband sarcastically.