You Can Never Go Home Again
Gérard looked more haggard than before. Not that he’d been away long, or that the guards had been unkind, but being alone with his thoughts for too long had done him no favors. Heedless of the guards and the hobbles on his feet and wings, she wrapped her forelegs about him and pulled him into a tight hug. He made an effort to return the gesture, but stopped as the chains rattled and caught against her barrel, bringing him up short.
“Rose,” he murmured.
“Are you okay?” She returned, in the same tone of voice.
“I am now,” he sighed, his breath stirring her mane.
The only response she could think to give was a brief squeeze, her muzzle buried in the crook of his neck. Then she stepped back. “Princess Celestia wants to talk to you,” she said, ignoring the varying degrees of shock on the expressions of all those in the audience chamber. All but Stripehoof, who looked merely speculative, and Celestia herself, who watched with a faint, enigmatic smile. “And then I’ll need your help.”
His beak clicked, softly. “Of course. Where you lead, I follow.”
That made her smile as she turned to Celestia, dipping her head in a bow. “This is Gérard, Your Majesty,” she said, changing back to Equestrian.
Celestia regarded Gérard as he drew himself to attention, despite the chains. “Rose has spoken highly of you,” she said at last.
“And of you, Your Majesty,” Gérard replied in his accented Equestrian. “Certainly, I can think of no better authority.”
The corner of Celestia’s mouth twitched, her smile growing more genuine for an instant. “Ah. Now we both know what excellent people we are.” Then her smile faded. “Alas, that is not enough for the situation at hoof. Aida surrendered three weeks ago and yet at every turn there are demands, there are attacks. There is no agreement to be had. I do not intend to make you answer for that, but I would like an answer. Why would you surrender and then fail to live up to the agreement?”
Gérard cocked his head at Celestia, his ears flicking back and then forward. Finally he clicked his beak. “Tch. I do not have an answer for you. I don’t know what words, what actions, what intentions have passed between ponies and gryphons since then. But I have spent time with Rose, and I know that ponies and gryphons have very different ideas of what is right.” His voice sharpened. “I have seen that prison outside. That may be acceptable to ponies, but for gryphons it is enough to void any agreement.”
“And what am I supposed to do?” Celestia raised a single eyebrow at Gérard. “Just let them go?”
“Yes.”
“Absurd,” Swiftwing said. “They’d just attack us again! We know how gryphon prisoners are.”
“They surrendered,” Gérard said stiffly. “They should not be prisoners.”
“Listen to Gérard,” Rose put in. “You may not trust him, but listen to what he is saying. You can’t treat gryphons like ponies, enemies or not. They have their own ways of thinking and judging. Honor and duty and obligation are just as important to them as cutie marks are to us. And when we don’t follow those, what choice do they have but to hate us for it?”
“But we won,” Stone Hearth objected. “We shouldn’t have to handle them like upset foals.”
“We should handle them as they expect because we won. It’s our responsibility, not just because we’re in charge, but because that’s what the gryphons expect from the victor.” She almost switched back to Alce, rooted as it was in her understanding of gryphons. “Winning carries as much of a debt as losing, for them.”
“But not for us.” Stone Hearth remained skeptical.
“And are you volunteering to go tell the gryphons all the reasons they have to hate us are unfounded?” Stripehoof flicked her ears. “And all they need to do is understand and everything will be fine?”
“Certainly not,” he huffed.
“She is.” Stripehoof pointed at Rose. “There’s the understanding. And the volunteer. Shouldn’t we take advantage of that?”
“Yes, indeed.” Celestia spoke again, drawing all eyes to her. “That is why I am putting Compass Rose in charge of gryphon relations. The peace is in her hooves now.”
“Ah.” Gérard’s eyes glinted suddenly, ears focused forward. “An excellent choice, Your Majesty.”
“But…” Swiftwing sputtered. “How can we possibly trust her? How do we know the gryphons haven’t turned her traitor somehow?”
“You’ve trusted her in every planning session of the last three years.” A smile tugged at Celestia’s lips. “The master of every map we have came from her hooves. We’ve relied on her knowledge and talent to plot our courses before. I see no reason we shouldn’t do so again.”
His expression tightened, but in the end, even Swiftwing wasn’t willing to gainsay the princess. Celestia’s eyes tracked from him to Rose, questioning.
“We are going to release those prisoners. And before Aida arrives. But,” Rose continued, before either Swiftwing or Stone Hearth could object. “I know we can’t just let them go right off and expect things to work out. Gérard and I will talk to them first.”
“Do you think talking will do any good?” Ivory asked, doubtful.
“Do you think anything else will?” Rose frowned at her. “They’re just as reasonable as ponies, you know.”
Ivory’s frown remained, so Rose turned to the guards. “You can release Gérard now.”
“I’ll fetch Captain Silverhorn,” one said stiffly, disapproving but trying to hide it. “It’s his construct.”
Gérard clicked his beak. “Tch. No need.” He lifted his forelegs and, without any apparent effort, shattered the chain of pure magic that bound them together, the blue-green construct dissipating into the air. Then he systematically and, to Rose’s eye, with some degree of satisfaction, tore apart the hobbles on his hind legs and his wings, talons shearing through Silverhorn’s magic like paper.
“How did you do that?”
“You could have done that the whole time?”
Ivory and Swiftwing spoke nearly at once. Gérard ignored them both, and Rose didn’t bother to suppress a gleeful smile at the sight.
“Aida is coming here?” He changed back to Alce, so she did too, smile fading.
“Yes. They haven’t made much progress talking to her but...I think I can.” She was reluctant to mention Aquila’s role, as if it were too intimate a subject to broach.
“She will have Kree with her,” Gérard said, utterly assured of Kree’s ability to evade the pony presence to reach Aida. “Your people will want you to hold him responsible for what happened to your friends.”
“I know.” A faint stab of familiar pain made her chest ache, accompanied by something less definable as she realized Kree’s fate was her responsibility. Her choice. She had a sudden appreciation for what Gérard must have felt on that long-ago day, in that moment of crystal clarity. The entire future of the peace, even her future with Gérard, might not revolve around what she did with Kree, but they also might, and she knew she could only make one choice. “But I won’t. I trust you will hold him responsible for what he has done, by your accounting.”
“Yes,” Gérard agreed. “And in turn I trust you will handle my debt for it properly.”
“I will,” she promised, knowing that he wouldn’t be satisfied with simple forgiveness, no matter how much she wanted to grant it. “And...I think I’ll need you to start by supporting me when I go to open those cells. Not just as me, Compass Rose, but as the one now responsible for everything.”
“Ah. That is quite a task.” His eyes flashed with some purely gryphon emotion, ears canting sideways. “I am, of course, at your command.”
“With your permission, Your Highness?” Rose finally looked back to Celestia, finding the change from one language to another less disconcerting this time. It was something she would have to master if she wanted either side to understand the other.
“Of course, Compass Rose.” Celestia smiled again, granting them leave with a wave of her hoof. “Lieutenant Copper, pass the word. She has the authority.”
“Ma’am.” One of the guards saluted, drawing himself up and falling in next to Rose.
She bowed to Celestia, and Gérard nodded sharply, and they left the room side by side. After so long, it was habit, though finding her way through the layers of cloud that comprised Celestia’s Command was markedly different than the same exercise in the middle of wilderness. Copper trailed behind as chaperone, though the pair of them attracted no more than startled looks.
Then they stepped outside and the looks turned hostile. Still, nopony actually accosted them until they reached the tenuous outer border of the village. Only then did a wing of pegasi swoop down to join the unicorn guard posted there. “Sorry, ma’am, we can’t let you get any closer. Especially not with a loose gryphon.”
“Hello,” Rose peered at the insignia on his pectoral. “Captain. My name is Compass Rose. I’m in charge of gryphon relations now, by order of Princess Celestia.”
“Verified, sir,” Copper put in before the captain could marshal his incredulity. “Her Majesty sent me along to make sure you were properly informed.”
The pegasus captain visibly controlled himself. Rose had some degree of sympathy for him but, considering the makeshift prison behind him, only some. At length he gave Rose a curt nod. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
“I’m going to need you to take your troops and pull back to Celestia’s Command. I’m going to be releasing the prisoners here and, yes, I will make sure they don’t just attack.”
The poor pony ground his teeth, but had enough composure to at least remain polite. “Are you certain about that, ma’am? We can’t protect or advise you if we’re not here.”
“I’m certain. I’ll be able to talk to the gryphons better if it’s just me.”
He didn’t move for a minute, simply watching her, brow furrowed, as if waiting for her to change her mind. When she didn’t he turned and barked out a few stiff orders to his troops, sending them back to the Command. A few unicorns Rose hadn’t spotted among the buildings joined them, trotting off to the fortress. Soon enough it was just Rose and Gérard and a village full of watchful gryphons.
“Who speaks for you?” She stepped forward, looking at the narrowed eyes and sharp beaks pressed close against nearly transparent unicorn-made walls. If nothing else, there would be someone who was ultimately responsible.
“Me.” The gryphon that spoke was ancient by anyone’s standards, battered and scarred, his white fur turning silver but unbowed under his weight of years. “I am Einion, head of clan Halfpaw.” His Alce was considerably rougher than Gérard’s, rougher even than the sailors on board the Windrunner.
“I am Compass Rose, and I am now responsible for all that passes between gryphons and ponies. Including this camp. And I will be releasing you shortly.”
Einion’s ears flicked forward, muddy brown eyes fixing on her. “So have you finally decided to stop treating us like prey?”
“No,” she said sharply. “Ponies have never treated you like prey. They don’t think in terms of predators and prey, but they have treated you like you’re dangerous. I know it doesn’t excuse anything,” she continued, more quietly. “But the mistreatment was not deliberate insult. It was just what ponies thought was a reasonable way to treat someone who would try to kill them without provocation.”
“Without provocation?” His eyes flashed and his ears flattened. “We have been provoked.”
“I know. You know. But they don’t see it that way, any more than you see why the notion of testing strength is deeply disturbing to us.”
His tail flicked restlessly, back and forth as he studied her. “What point are you trying to make?”
“The relations between gryphon and pony can’t be resolved by either the pony approach or the gryphon approach.” She waved her hoof, encompassing the prisons. “The pony method threatens gryphons in the only way that matters to you - your honor. And the gryphon method threatens ponies in a way that matters to them. Their safety.”
“And?” His beak snapped contemptuously.
“And I understand both perspectives. That’s why this is my responsibility now. I will make sure that debts are counted and paid where they may be, and without too much damage to life, limb, or honor.”
Einion’s eyes narrowed, ears twitching as he considered her.
“Trust her, Arawnson.” Gérard said, voice soft and low. “Under the open sky, I pledge that she is worthy of it.”
“Trust, trust.” He turned his gaze to Gérard. “I don’t think I have any left for them anymore. Not after all this.”
“And yet you have precious few choices. I do not know what she has in mind but she has never led me astray. She has also never promised an easy path.”
“I don’t expect what I ask to be easy for you,” Rose added. “I know it stretches the bounds of duty and obligation. But we can’t get from here to the end in one bound. Aida is coming to talk, and I intend to use the freeing of this village as an opening. But of course, only if it is an opening.”
Einion’s ears flicked forward and he canted his head slightly, waiting for her to go on.
“Whatever debts have been incurred here will be paid, by me or by whom I represent, in property or word. But I can’t accomplish that if you simply attack again once you are free.”
“Some debts cannot be satisfied with apologies or reparations,” Einion growled.
“If you wish to fight, you will fight me,” Gérard said.
“You would side with ponies against your own people?” He narrowed his eyes at Gérard, ears flattening again.
“As you say, some debts cannot be satisfied with apologies or reparations. And some duties ask of us things we would rather not do.” Gérard’s voice hardened. “I am not siding against my people. I am trying to save us all. They have won, and they are not gryphons, and I am still learning what that means.”
“As are we.” Rose picked up the thread from Gérard. “It’s a delicate and difficult thing. We may not have the same idea of what the responsibilities are, but there are very few ponies who think we have no responsibilities. You have tested our strength in battle and it was sufficient, but now you’re testing other sorts of strength and we’re failing utterly. Until now. But tests go both ways.”
Einion grunted, tail flicking. His eyes bored into hers, but she refused to look away, and finally he spoke. “So you’ll release us if we keep our peace for now?”
“No. I will release you no matter what,” she said firmly. “I am merely telling you why you should keep your peace.”
His beak clicked in reply, his eyes somewhere else.
“Grandfather,” a gryphoness addressed him, her voice lilting through the hushed air. “She did send away the guards.”
“True enough.” Einion sighed, rubbing at his beak, and turned to regard the gryphons gathered behind him. “Attend, all!” His voice boomed through the village, unexpectedly loud, forcing Rose to flatten her ears against the noise. “Very soon, these walls will be gone. But our obligation is to defer any slight against our honor for the sake of the rest of the clans. Arawn in his time was willing to sacrifice his paw, his eye, and in the end, his life for his clan. Surely we can bear to sacrifice time.”
That was good enough for Rose. “Gérard?” She asked, not wanting to call all the guards back. Her instincts told her that would be far too demeaning. They needed to be freed now, and by Gérard.
He pressed his talons against the magical shield, eyes far away. “These are more difficult. I could not - but perhaps…”
Rose stared. She had never seen Gérard so oddly undecided, so he had to have something unusual on his mind indeed.
Gérard looked at Einion through the barrier. “Arawn once freed thrice a hundred gryphons from inside a cirein-cròin.”
“So he did.” Einion gazed back, one ear forward and one ear back.
Gérard stepped back from the magical wall, looking skyward for a moment before taking a deep breath and letting it out, dropping his eyes to hold Einion’s. “Seven whales, a cirein-cròin’s fill. It was a mighty foe.”
“But mighty too was Arawn,” Einion replied, in the cadence not of speech, but of story. The faint, background noise of murmuring gryphons ceased, leaving a deeper silence.
“It swallowed three ships, captain and crew.”
“But daunted not was Arawn.” It wasn’t just Einion who replied that time, but most of the group with him, their words weighed and measured.
Gérard stepped forward, dragging his talons against the shield. It hissed and sparked. “He tore at it with his claws, but its hide was stone and iron.”
“But relentless was Arawn.” The voices came from all the dwellings now. “His talons flashed like blades as he fought the beast, meeting its razored teeth.”
He obeyed their direction, leaping at the shield and then back, dancing in place as he struck against the magic. Rose felt a prickle along her spine, though she couldn’t tell if it was from magic or the force of a hundred voices saying the same words.
“They crashed and they clashed until both bled from a hundred wounds,” said Gérard, and Rose winced as indeed blood spattered in fine droplets from his wing, something there opened again by the movements. “His wings beat the air as he hauled it from the ocean blue, or the water as it dragged him below. They roared and churned the waves to froth, until its jaws closed on him.” He held up right forepaw, curling two talons under to leave just the one.
The bones of the cirein-cròin seemed to creak as it was invoked, some ancient spark of animus stirring from the retelling. The voices of gryphons echoed back at Gérard. “Arawn Halfpaw would not be cowed, and met strength with strength. He staggered it with mighty blows.”
Gérard leapt again, but it didn’t look like him. The movements were of someone younger, more lithe. More dangerous. His talon boomed against the magical shield, cracks fracturing the smooth surface. “The beast opened its jaws wide,” he intoned.
“And with his single talon and half a paw, he tore the beast asunder.” The gryphons instructed.
His talon swept down, cutting every single shield in every single house at once. There was a sound like a thousand panes of glass shattering, and gryphons poured into the air.
Rose blinked away the afterimage of impossibility as Gérard slumped to the ground, dazed. She hastened forward to help him to his feet, and he braced himself to meet Einion, the older gryphon padding forward with the peculiar grace of the very old.
“Well enough done,” he said grudgingly and, apparently feeling that was sufficient praise, turned his attention to Rose. “You don’t act like the others.” His tone was almost accusing.
“I have more experience with gryphons,” she told him. “I know you’re not monsters.” Though even she was surprised how little the cloud of gryphons dispersing across the sky bothered her. But only Einion seemed interested in even acknowledging her existence.
“Tch.” He clicked his beak. “It takes more than that to act properly.”
“Gérard has taught me a lot.” She cast a smile in his direction, and he canted his head, eyes glinting.
“Are you that Gérard?” Einion narrowed his eyes at him, a predator’s focus.
“Yes.”
“Then you have either the best teacher,” he told Rose. “Or the worst. Now go, deal with Aida.” He turned away, apparently dismissing them as he headed back into his home. Perhaps half the gryphons that had been behind the magical walls had gone, but the rest had stayed, though most were outside and a-wing, flitting among the bones. After all, it was their village.
“He has not changed at all,” Gérard said.
“You know him?”
“I met him once, when I was still a fledgeling. He led clan Halfpaw then, too. He is twice as old as I am, and nobody’s fool.”
“I could tell.” He had been remarkably placid, in fact, considering the circumstances, if still sharp. And not just placid about her being a pony. He had taken Gérard’s performance in stride without question, something Rose was still trying to digest. Though the more she thought about gryphons and their magic, the less startling it was. “I hasn’t expected such a close look at gryphon legends, though.”
His eyes glinted. “Rarely are they so dramatic. I trust we will not find need for more.”
“I hope not.” She glanced skyward, though with all the gryphons she couldn’t have spotted Aida and her entourage. “I also hope that was enough. Now that it’s done, it seems so small next to salvaging the damage of an entire war.”
“It is enough for a beginning. History takes time.” He ambled along beside her, his frame relaxed, but his eyes and ears moving constantly, head moving in little jerks as he tracked the flying gryphons. Looking for threats.
“Is there anything you can tell me about Aida?” Rose asked quietly. “I haven’t a single idea of how to get her to trust me, other than ask you.”
“Only that she may be her own legend, in time.” Gérard’s voice turned thoughtful. “She is as sharp as Aquila’s own talons, but she is fiercer than I. Prouder. Aida would certainly not sacrifice anything for the sake of her own ego, but her honor is the honor of the clans. Of all gryphons.”
Rose nodded, considering. She wasn’t so much worried about any actual details that might be negotiated than gaining Aida’s confidence. And trust. The pegasus guard she had displaced watched with stony-faced disapproval as she tramped back through the front of Celestia’s Command, perched on the ridge of stormcloud to defend against any attack from the freed gryphons.
They passed back inside, finding that in their short absence the cloud had been reshaped, the narrow corridors just inside the front door turned into the vestibule to a broad audience hall. It stretched all the way up the domed ceiling and back to an imposing throne, where Celestia was in conference with her advisors. And it was all wrong.
Rose hastened along the long cloud chamber, Gérard padding at her heels, and stopped just outside the circle formed by Celestia’s advisors. She didn’t have to wait, for Celestia immediately broke off her discussion with Stone Hearth to raise her eyebrows at Rose. “Yes?”
“This isn’t going to work,” she said, waving her hoof at the huge audience chamber. “They’re not subjects or supplicants. The office would have been better, or…” A thought struck her. “A dining room. I’m sure we can get some fish from the Halfpaw village. If we have time.”
“That’s not very official,” Ivory groused. “And we just finished setting this up!”
The corners of Celestia’s lips twitched. “Well,” she said. “It is winding on toward suppertime. If you think it is a better venue then of course I will be happy to share a meal with them. Though we don’t have any gryphon cooks.”
“That won’t be an issue, I’m sure.” She refrained from mentioning the gryphon cook had managed with pony food. It wasn’t quite the same. “The point is to treat them as guests. That is promise by both sides to be civilized. The audience chamber promises...other things.”
“Then it shall be done. Stone Hearth, would you arrange it?”
He nodded, of course, frowning at Rose before turning away to attend to the task. Celestia dismissed the others after a moment and smiled at Rose and Gérard both. “My guards told me that all the gryphons we were holding simply left without incident. And that you broke the magical barriers that twelve expert unicorns put together.” She lifted an eyebrow at them.
“Very little can withstand the force of history,” Gérard replied quietly. “And that is from history that gryphons draw their strength.”
“And they’re very reasonable if you know how to talk to them. Though I did pledge to pay any debts incurred by imprisoning them like that...I hope it will mostly be an apology, but even if it isn’t, it’s my pledge, not Equestria’s.”
“Of course it’s Equestria’s.” Celestia said, not quite chiding. “I did put you in charge of it, after all.” Rose ducked her head in embarrassed acknowledgement, and Celestia continued. “Freeing those gryphons without a bloodbath is worth whatever bits it might take to soothe ruffled feathers.” Gérard clicked his beak, darkly amused, and Celestia winked at him.
“But,” she continued, growing more serious. “The ultimate end of any negotiations we have is to remove any chance for another war. I would prefer that, in a few generations when tempers have cooled, we be friends. But harmony does not seem to be their first nature.”
“No,” Rose agreed. “Conflict is. They measure themselves and others by how they strive.”
“That’s not much to build on, is it?”
“It’s enough,” she said, with a sideways glance at Gérard. “But both of us have to learn the other side really isn’t so bad. Just very different.”
“Not an easy lesson,” Celestia agreed, watching as cloudstuff was pulled down to cut off part of the audience hall, reshaping it into a large dining room. Even before the walls were finished other pegasi were shaping a broad table and a dozen chairs from the floor. “I imagine they will be here soon enough,” she added, heading for the room under construction. “If we are to be hosts, we should be there to greet them.”
Rose trailed along behind Celestia, and Gérard shadowed her in turn, matching her step for step. The princess walked calmly through an unclosed gap in the wall, circled around the table, giving the workers nods as she breezed over to the entrance door, now facing directly into the vestibule. For a moment Rose thought Celestia was being overly hasty, but a cold gust blew the door open the moment she came to a halt at Celestia’s side.
Gérard rocked back as if he’d been dealt a blow, his feathers rippling under the wind of Aquila’s presence. “My lord!” He managed, sounding half-strangled. She’d never seen him so shaken, even during the hardest times, but Aquila merely nodded gravely in response. Kree glared at no one and nothing in particular, and Ganon was unreadable as ever.
Rose, for her part, focused on Aida. She was the same colors as Aquila, all tawny brown and snow white, but she wore a battered set of bronze armor, old and more than a little ugly. “Celestia,” she said, fire burning in molten amber eyes, and Rose knew immediately from the cadence of her Equestrian that she’d learned it from Gérard.
“Aida,” Celestia returned in the same even tone. Then her composure softened. “In light of our past difficulties, I’ve put Compass Rose in charge of our negotiations. She has my full faith and I think she will be more suited to the task than I.”
“Welcome to the Stormfront,” Rose said in Alce, deeming the other name perhaps too impolitic. “Though we do not have all that much in the way of gryphon food, we would still be honored to have you as guests at our table.”
Aida flicked an ear, giving Rose a long look. Rose looked back, despite the intensity of the gaze, and after a moment Aida shifted her attention to Gérard. He didn’t seem to notice, still transfixed by Aquila’s presence, and Aida nodded sharply. “We accept your hospitality,” she said, her posture relaxing ever so slightly, and Rose stepped aside, ushering the four of them into the dining room. Kree nearly touched her as he brushed past, and Ganon padded after. But then Aquila followed, and the ceiling parted as he moved, so the room was always open to the sky.
She wondered if he was as difficult on roofs of wood or bone as he was on clouds, but he was a judge, and by Gérard’s comments held court under under the open sky. He probably didn’t go indoors often, or ever. For him to be anywhere but his court had to be profoundly bizarre, to judge by Gérard’s reaction. He bestirred himself to follow the other gryphons of his own accord, so she followed Celestia in without saying anything, no matter that she wanted to.
Aquila deliberately sat apart from the other three gryphons, and Celestia went to join him, leaving Rose and Gérard to face Aida and Kree. She didn’t really count Ganon because she couldn’t imagine him arguing in that whisper of his. Or being responsible for decisions, given his nature.
“Einion sent word you dispensed with the prison camp.” Aida said.
“And past time, too,” Kree muttered.
“Yes,” Rose said. She considered all the decisions and understandings it had taken to accomplish that, and decided against trying to explain any of it as an opening conversational gambit. “It wasn’t necessary anymore.”
“And you,” she said, focusing those eyes on Gérard. “Seem to have placed yourself against us.”
“Never,” he replied.
“No,” Kree growled. “I have seen the way you look at her. You have completely lost yourself. Do you have any brains left? Have you forgotten your duties, your obligation to us? Have you forgotten Nerys?”
“Never,” Gérard repeated, cold and hard as Eyrie’s peaks. “I sacrificed everything I had, everything I was for her sake. And now I do it again, for the sake of Eyrie.”
“You sacrifice others for your own twisted pride.” Kree snapped, beak clicking. “How many of us are hurt when you give up and pretend it is something noble?”
“Too many.” Gérard met Kree’s blood-red glare with calm deliberation. “But I have never given up.”
“Then what have you done?” Kree gestured around wildly. “You sit there with the enemy when you should tear them all apart!”
“Kree.” Aida’s tone flattened Kree’s ears. “That is enough. We may question his loyalty without resorting to insult.” She regraded Gérard. “And I must question it,” she said, her voice thick with pain. “I can hear your Alce in her words, so I have to wonder what has happened here. I trust you, but not enough to blindly accept your place opposing me.”
“I do not oppose you,” Gérard said, equally agonized. “I am simply trying to help you understand.”
“You have had valuable insight before, Gérard. But ending this war became an obsession for you, and I know how you are with obsessions.” Aida was grim, and Rose thought of the black, bleak edges she’d glimpsed from Gérard. She couldn’t blame the gryphon for being skeptical. “How can I judge if you are truly acting for gryphons?”
Aquila stirred. He didn’t so much move as direct his attention, a cold wind whipping over the table. “I will judge.”
Everyone looked at him, Celestia included. There was something cold and hard and uncompromising behind his eyes as he regarded the three gryphons, but his voice lost none of its richness. “Eight years ago, Gérard made a decision. It was either an utter desertion of honor, or it was not. It was a decision made for the sake of ego and memory, or to build a future.”
Gérard’s beak opened, then closed again without a word. He looked haunted, and Rose ached to soothe him, but she had no idea how to even start. This wasn’t a blow that could be fended off, but the results of history and choices made long past.
“For eight years I have been waiting for the results of that decision to bear fruit. Most decided Gérard was a coward and acted accordingly.” That, to Kree, without either praise or censure. “And you decided he was not, and acted so.” Aquila’s eyes swept to Aida. She inclined her head.
“And you tore yourself in two, to hold them both at once.” Aquila pinned Gérard with a look. “Now history repeats. You stand at a decision that will shape the future of all gryphons, and it is not one that can be carried through by someone broken into parts. So the judgement will be made here, now.”
Gérard bowed his head, and Rose reached out to lay a hoof against his shoulder. The atmosphere in the room was stretched and breathless, full of terrified anticipation. This wasn’t just an opinion Aquila was offering, but a weighing of Gérard’s soul. And he might very well be found wanting.
“Honor and duty and obligation are the trinity upon which we balance, and if we lose one of them we fall. My eyes have been on you and Kree for a long time now, to see if you truly had fallen.” Aquila pointed a talon at Ganon, whose flat, dead gaze didn’t flicker.
It seemed to Rose she was the only one who was surprised. Not that she expressed it with anything more than a widening of her eyes, unwilling to break into Aquila’s words, but nobody else so much as twitched. Aquila caught it, however, and a very Gérard-like glint danced for a moment in the place of the implacable weight of his gaze. “Oh yes,” he told her. “Only such a disemboweled and hollowed-out soul could give me an untinted view of the world. Of gryphons and of ponies.”
She had to wonder what those lifeless eyes had seen when they looked at her.
“Gérard, you have lost many, many times over the course of years, but you have never given up. You have never fallen. You found a form of honor that is rare to vanishing and made it your center. And it worked, not for you, but for all those that inherited from it.” Aquila swept his gaze around the table. “We all know this is the same. We all know this is the only way, and we all know this understanding of honor is our future, else we will grind ourselves to powder on an immovable obstacle.”
Kree’s beak clicked softly, and Aquila pinned him in turn with a look. “Yes, Kree. You were honorable, and did proper things, and yet you were wrong. There is no shame in that. But learn from it.” Aquila held Kree in place until he nodded, almost imperceptibly, then turned to Gérard again.
“This is well and truly a final sacrifice, for if you take a stand outside gryphons, no matter that it is to show them the way, you will be no longer one of us. That is not my price, but an inevitable fact.”
“I know,” Gérard said, his voice hoarse but chilled by that dreadful calm Rose knew so well.
“Aida will still listen to you,” Aquila said, and Aida twitched, not so much in agreement as in acknowledgement. “But your loyalty must not be to her. That is a too much a conflict for any gryphon, be he ever so honorable.”
“Then whom?” Gérard asked, tired and torn.
“There is only one.” Ganon’s eerie feathered whisper commanded attention nearly as well as Aquila’s rich tones. “Compass Rose.”
Aida narrowed her eyes at Ganon, ears flat. “Why?”
“Because she is the one responsible for our future. And because he loves her.”
Rose felt her ears suddenly start to burn, and from the corner of her eye Celestia’s cool mask slipped to show a sudden, satisfied smile before it returned. Even if she didn’t know Alce, Celestia clearly could read the mood of the conversation. Aida’s glare turned from Ganon to Gérard, then softened.
“Do you?”
“I would like to try.” Gérard met her gaze without a flicker or flinch.
“I’d like that too.” Rose found her voice again and Gérard turned to face her in turn. The tension had evaporated into a fine mist of anticipation, settling into her bones. “I realized before we arrived here that I wanted to be with you, but I had no idea how. Not when we were on opposite sides of a war, with our own obligations to our own races. But now we’re both here, outside it, and it would be awful lonely if we weren’t together.”
Gérard’s ears flicked, back and then forward, and a spark of humor kindled in his eyes. “Where you lead,” he told her. “I follow.”
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Such d'awww
As the war starts to wind down we are about to get our first glimpse of the canon griffon lands. I wonder if there will be any similarities.
Jarring as it is for the two who were so recently little more than travellers in the wilderness to be regarded openly as top-level players (and harnessing incredible magic) in a global negotiation, no matter how pre-established it was, that ending is still adorable.
I'm just hoping the deities don't spend much longer in the spotlight. I said it before and I'll say it again: it seems to detract from the story's mortality to include much in the way of divine influence, even if your mythos is heavy with that particular theme.
Absolutely brilliant ending to the chapter.
I was going to sleep. Then I saw this had updated.
Definitely one of my favorite fics, hands hooves and claws down.
Still incomplete?
6008478
It's interesting you say that when it's kind of the point here that they do things gods can't. That said, I do know what you mean and I did make sure things weren't too god-heavy here. That said...
6008662
Yes, but. Clearly Rose and Gerard's main story is over, and what's left is cleaning up a few particular loose ends and plot points.
6008477
It would be pretty amusing if there were. I actually have managed to anticipate some canonical themes and in-universe mechanics, so if I was anywhere close with Cartography it'd be fantastic. I won't hold my breath though.
Oh man...all this deepness blown away by Aquila's last statement!
Loving the story so far; I'd go as far to say that it's probably your best piece, and one of the best pieces on the site as a whole. I suppose its relative lack of popularity is due to it's lack of a cannon cast?
One minor thing at the bottom of the latest chapter:
Who's gaze is he meeting here; Aida's or Rose's? Whilst it makes sense that he's meeting Aida's gaze, given the previous paragraph, the line later
implies that he's now looking at Rose, without a shift in his attention being noted.
Minor, and it may just be me, but I was confused for a moment.
6010898
I suspect that's a major factor, yeah.
Also, issue fixed.
6009061 Yeah, it did feel like a bit like an ending here. Still, epilogs can be very fun.
6010942
To be fair, you did hit the feature box briefly after you'd updated.
I don't know whether this should make you feel honoured or creeped out (or both? Both works), but this story left such an impression on me that imagining being Rose sidled up against a sleeping Gérard produced a feeling peaceful enough to help me get to sleep during a bout with insomnia.
Congratulations on being the best author.
Well, it's about damn time someone admitted it.
Far out man, this! This is why I love your work!
I wish there was a better way to articulate "slowly chuckled amusedly" but that's exactly what I'm doing right now. Well done.
Awwwww! There it is!
I felt my eyes burning there, for a sec. Just a little!
The story and chant about Arawn made me think about the warrior Kalinag from Far Cry 4, who entered the corrupted paradise of Shangri-La and, against all odds, defeated the mighty Rakshasa demon bird to restore Shangri-La to its former glory.
6084714
Ritual re-enactment of myths to gain power (or to do mighty deeds) is integral to a lot of cultures (not so much the greco-roman derived, but a good chunk of indigenous cultures in the Americas have something along those lines).
Yeah... like we should have given the Nazis what they would have liked. This ranks high on my list of "Most Retarded Reasoning Possible".
This entire chapter is a great example of what writing should be. It not only ties up pertinent plot points from the buildup, it does so in a neat, pleasing way. The characterization work shows brilliantly, and I can honestly say that I could find nothing out of character for both Rose and Gérard, even as they pull off some of the most seemingly-unlikely actions in the entire story.
Believable worldbuilding, to me, is the holy grail of writing, and the predator/prey and history/present contrasts and conflicts between the griffins and the ponies are prime examples of this. To see parallels of that in the 'Legendary magic' sequence and the overarching shipping is pretty awesome.
Anyway, your stuff is great. I could name a few more contrasts I liked between the sides, but I imagine it's be overkill. Carry on.
Oh, I love these two.
I have to ask, was this romance element planned from the beginning or was it something that you found in the writing? The comments seemed to pick up on the idea pretty quickly even before you really started laying the groundwork.
8627214
It was a possibility from the very beginning but I didn't know if it would work. I had to let it evolve.
The reason the comments picked up on it so quick is that people here on FimFic ship everyone. Everyone.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! OMG
I really though you were going to tear them apart - for most of the story I was waiting in ragged anticipation on when you were going to tear them apart. It feels so good to have them together, you hve brought me true joy uwu.
6142278
That -10 is well deserved 
The nazis would just commit a genocide if they won... its non-equivical