//------------------------------// // A Matter of Time // Story: ...Nor the Battle to the Strong // by MagnetBolt //------------------------------// “Berthi! Get down here!” Astrid yelled, looking up the stairs. She was a little older and much wiser than she had been, more than a decade ago. “Your teacher sent another note home from school!” She waited as a door opened quietly. “I-it's no big deal, mom!” Berthi said, as she stepped out onto the landing, head down. Her back hooves made light tapping noises as she walked down the stairs. Her wings fluttered as she looked up at her mother. Where her front half was almost identical to Astrid's, aside from the color at the tips of her primaries, her back half was the pastel blue of her father. The hooves were from his side of the family, too. “No big deal?” Astrid raised an eyebrow. “You pounced on Golden Mean in the middle of class and tried to pluck her like a chicken!” “She was being mean to Chandelle!” Berthi protested. “She was shooting spitballs at her and the teacher wasn't doing anything about it!” “Did you even try telling the teacher before you decided Golden Mean was the perfect thing to add to your lunch?” “Mom! I wasn't going to eat her! And I told the teacher about it before. She just tells Golden Mean to stop and never does anything about it! Even if she did stop she'd just do something worse later, like the time she filled Chandelle's lunch box with raw rainbow goop.” Berthi pawed at the floor with a talon, not looking her mother in the eye. “She doesn't listen, and I thought if I showed her I was boss, that it would make her stop.” “You know it doesn't work that way,” Astrid said. “Now you're in more trouble than she is, and the next time you try and tell the teacher about her, she's gonna cry and complain about how you're always mean to her.” “But it's not true!” Berthi yelled, looking up and flaring her wings in alarm. “So? You're the one who attacked her. The teacher's gonna remember that.” “It's not fair!” Berthi stomped a hoof and looked up at Astrid with tears in her eyes. “You said that protecting your friends is important, especially when nopony else will stand up for them!” Astrid hesitated. “Come over here.” She turned and put the note from the school with the rest of the mail and sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to her. Berthi walked the rest of the way down the stairs and followed, head down, before getting up on the couch sullenly. She smiled and patted Berthi on the head, ruffling her feathers. “So what am I supposed to do when Golden Mean is being a jerk to Chandelle?” Berthi asked, smoothing her feathers back down. “You tell the teacher what she's doing. And if she keeps doing it, you keep telling the teacher.” Astrid folded her talons. “It might not be as satisfying as pulling her coverts out backwards but it's better than starting a fight you can't finish.” “I could too finish it,” Berthi pouted. “And I warned her twice that if she kept being a jerk I was going to stop her.” “Oh really?” Astrid smirked. “She's a year older than you.” “Yeah but she's not as strong as I am.” “So you're picking on ponies who are weaker than you are?” Astrid raised an eyebrow. “That's no way for my family's littlest warrior to act.” She sighed and shook her head. “What happened to honor?” “I didn't attack her without warning a-and I didn't ambush her!” Berthi protested. “It was a fair fight!” Astrid shook her head. “You already knew you were stronger. It's honorable to fight those who are stronger than you, not those who are weaker. A coward attacks when he cannot lose. A warrior attacks when he cannot win.” “But that's stupid. Why would you fight if you knew you were going to lose?” “It's not always about winning and losing. Sometimes you fight because what you're fighting for is more important than anything else. I used to fight because I thought what mattered was my honor, and I was willing to sacrifice anything for it. But you know what I learned?” Berthi shook her head. “If you only fight for some abstract idea of honor, you forget why honor matters in the first place. Trying to help your friend was the right thing to do. But if you go around beating ponies up, you're going to be a bully like Golden Mean. You don't want that, do you?” “But I'm not a bully!” “Good. I know you're having a hard time fitting in,” Astrid said, quietly. “I had a really hard time when I decided to live here instead of the Republic.” “Why did you leave, mom?” Berthi looked up at her. “Was it because of dad?” “Platinum? No. It was before I met him.” She smirked. “The truth is, I made a lot of griffons angry. Your grandma and grandpa thought I was a very bad griffon, because I decided to do things they didn't like. It took a while for them to forgive me, though I think when they saw how cute you were, that helped more than anything I ever did.” She pinched Berthi's cheek. The hippogriff groaned and rolled her eyes. “Mom! Stop it!” She pushed her mother's talon away. “I was only going to stay here temporarily until things calmed down,” Astrid explained. “The Princess was letting me stay in the castle, and your father was one of the guards that kept watch in that part of the castle.” “I bet you fell in love at first sight!” Berthi said, her eyes glittering. “...Not quite. I didn't even notice him for months. Then he started inviting me along to the tavern. He said it was just 'one soldier to another'. One night I'd had so much cider and ale that he almost needed to carry me back, and I was feeling lonely, and one thing led to another- well, I'll tell you that story when you're older.” Astrid blushed. “We got married a year later.” Astrid pointed to a framed photo of the wall of the two of them on their wedding day. Celestia was there behind them, smiling that same smile she always had. It had taken Astrid a long time to realize that Celestia didn't smile so much because she was looking down at ponies, or hiding behind a mask. She genuinely cared about all those little moments in their lives. “It was a pretty big deal at the time,” Astrid said, looking back to Berthi. “It was the first time there'd been a wedding between a griffon and a pony in a long while, and it was at a time when we weren't sure we'd be able to get along with each other. But things worked out in the end.” “T-then why are you and Dad always fighting?” Berthi asked, picking a loose thread out of the couch and not looking at her mother. “What are you talking about?” Astrid frowned, tilting her head. “We never fight.” “I hear it at night a-and I've seen Dad all scratched up. And there was the time his hip broke and he told me it was because you were wrestling! I know he was just pretending you were playing, but it was really a fight!” Astrid slowly turned red. She remembered when his hip broke. “No, honey. We weren't fighting. You see your father and I love each other very much.” Her tail whipped and twitched with nervous energy. “And sometimes I get very excited and ponies are more fragile than griffons and I forget that and- and I'll explain when you're older!” Astrid flapped her wings, trying to cool down and stop blushing. “But you say that about everything!” Berthi pouted. “What if instead we... go out and get ice cream?” Astrid struggled to find something that would distract her daughter. The young hippogriff gasped and stood up. “Does that mean I'm not in trouble?!” Astrid growled. “No. You're still in trouble.” “Then why are we going out for ice cream?” “Because.. you won a battle fought to defend another. It's about honor.” “Oh!” Berthi smiled, apparently appeased by that explanation. Astrid sighed with relief. Thankfully her daughter was in a phase where she'd gotten enamored with the idea of honor. At least it had gotten her distracted from awkward questions. “And then you can tell me why daddy keeps getting hurt?” Or maybe she wasn't nearly as distracted as Astrid hoped. “...When your father gets home, he can explain it.” “Okay!” Berthi hopped off of the couch and walked towards the door. “Don't forget your scarf! It's cold out! I don't want you getting sick!” “Mom!” Astrid grabbed a scarf from the hat rack near the door and tied it around Berthi's neck, the hippogriff struggling as she made sure it was neat and tight. “I look like a dweeb!” “No, you look like my sweet little chick.” Astrid opened the door, blinking against the glare of the sun. She spread her wings, feeling the currents. It was chilly out. She'd never gotten used to the low temperatures that ponies liked. But she had gotten used to ponies. ***OOO*** “Astrid! I never thought I'd see you again, you trouble-making little hen.” Astrid turned to look. A black griffon with a scarred beak and his feathers on his right wing going white from old wounds. “Uncle Belmond!” Astrid stood up, pushing back the too-small chair she'd been perched on. Berthi looked past her, confused, a spoon still in her beak. Astrid's uncle limped over to her and gave her a quick hug. “And this must be my little grand-niece. I hope you're spoiling her.” He smiled and ruffled Berthi's feathers. “Berthi, this is your great-uncle, Belmond. He's an old retired military bird.” He'd been old years ago, when poor medical care had left him grounded for almost a decade thanks to a wing injury that Equestrian medical care had healed. “H-hello Mister Belmond!” Berthi said. “You can just call me Uncle Bel,” Belmond said, grinning. “It's nice to finally meet you after all the stories I heard.” “You should have said you were coming.” Astrid pulled out a chair for him. He looked at it for a moment before carefully trying to sit on it. “I'll be here for a few days. I've got meetings with the weather managers to have some of their engineers brought out to build weather factories so we can permanently end the drought instead of just importing more rain. I thought I'd surprise you.” Belmond grinned. “Took me a bit to find you since you weren't home, but there aren't a lot of griffons here.” “Not yet. Give it some time,” Astrid said. “Mom! Can I go play with Chandelle?” Berthi asked. Astrid looked over, and saw her daughter's friend waving from across the street. Astrid returned the wave. “Go ahead. Be home before dinner. And don't get in any fights!” “If I do I'll make sure to win them,” Berthi said, seriously, before hopping down and running over to her friend, the two laughing and walking towards the cloud park. If it hadn't been for Celestia, Berthi never could have been born. Belmond would have died as a gesture meant to keep face. Astrid would likely be dead or in prison, instead of sitting outside of an ice cream parlor. “Good enough,” Astrid said, smiling, though her daughter was too far away to hear. “So what were you two doing here?' Belmond looked at the bowls on the table, sniffing at them disapprovingly. “It's called ice cream. Try some.” Astrid offered him a spoon of her own dish. “I don't know...” Belmond tilted his head. “Come on. Might as well try pony food while you're in Equestria, right?” Belmond shrugged and took the spoon, tasting the ice cream. His feathers stood on and and he gagged, dropping the spoon on the table. “Ugh! That's vile!” “I know. It's so... sticky and soft and cloyingly sweet.” Astrid picked up the spoon, putting it back in her dish and getting another bite, looking at it closely. “Just like the ponies.” Belmond noted, quietly. “But you know what's really strange?” Astrid took the bite, savoring it as it melted on her tongue. “If you have enough of it you start to like it.” “Even though it's too soft and too sweet.” “Just like the ponies,” Astrid repeated, smiling.