Tactical Shorts By Request

by TacticalRainboom

The First Meeting of Frost and Flame

When the three kingdoms cried out for salvation, the Hearthfire was kindled for the first time, and the Sisters were born. On that cold winter night, in ponykind’s darkest hour, six alicorns drew their first breaths in unison, then exhaled the new world into being.

Today, the little ones look to my sister and I as their once and forever Princesses, whose wings are wide enough to beat back any storm, whose magic shines brightly enough to warm the world eternally. We rule the skies, but the world did not always belong to us alone.

Untold ages ago, my sister and I were born into another Equestria, one ruled by six instead of two. Ponykind named us as they came to know us, and through their names we came to know ourselves. Day and Night, Summer and Winter, Life and Death, these were our names.

These stories--lost, silenced, or never told at all--are the truest and oldest stories of Equestria.

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My name is lust and passion, the life that burns within every heart. From the roar of a throng to the mewling of a newborn, the cries of ponykind are my voice. In the shuddering of lovers, in the rage of adversaries, in the joy and thrill of a pegasus filly first discovering the sky—in these things feel my breath, hear my heartbeat, bask in the fury of my fire!

My name was Fire, and it was Joy. Then it was Life, and War, and finally Love.

Just as Sun has her sister Moon, so did I have a sister, and like Moon, she was a dark and mysterious spectre who lurked in the places that my light did not touch.

What could I do but oppose her utterly? She whispered secrets to the little ones that quenched the fervor of innocence, turning them into husks incapable of their former zeal. She flicked across their paths through life, dimming the world around them until the despair that she gave them hid the beauty of my world from their eyes. And, of course, she was always there, always lurking in the margins of my domain, waiting to snuff out forever the beauty that I created.

I remember the day when I learned that my sister was not my enemy.

It began, as all things do, with a tiny foal. Foaling: The spark that ignites a soul. It is a furious onslaught of fear, hope, and glorious agony, and then, when the suffering is over, it is the beginning of a new flicker of life. It is the purest and most powerful act of creation in all of Equestria and beyond.

The child was to be one of the very first children of the new world. I was present for the little one’s birth, and so was my sister. It was rare for her to walk in my domain rather than skirting its edges, and rarer still for her to stand in my very presence. At first, I roared in offense: This moment, turbulent and full of pain, belonged to me alone! I demanded that she leave.

My sister refused, but she did not say that I was wrong. Instead, she begged me to look into the hearts of the nurses and loved ones who were watching the birth. I did, grudgingly, and I saw how my fire was leaving ugly scorch marks on the hearts of those who watched. I saw black scars marring their souls, and how the power of my fire invited in my sister’s presence as surely as a candle casts a shadow.

Then my sister urged me to look into the heart of the mother and her foal, and what I saw changed everything, forever. Inside the mother was an inferno that grew and grew, unstoppable and destructive. This was a consuming fire, one that destroyed all that it touched. Inside the foal was the same. Fire, and only fire. Suffering without end.

When my sister saw the understanding in my eyes, she lowered her head and touched them both, mother and child. Her touch turned the fire in them to ice, then turned the ice to nothing.

The little ones called it tragedy. I called it ugly necessity. My sister called it an act of purest kindness.

They named her Death, yes, and Sorrow. But they also named her Knowledge, and Hush, and Mercy.

Just as Day begins and ends at midnight, so too does Life begin and end in silence, and like silence, my sister's shadow is there even in the moments when Life roars the loudest.

My sister speaks to me still, but quietly. She knows that we cannot help but oppose each other--but no longer is our conflict a war between opposites. She speaks to me, and only me--while she has a name, and that name can never be erased, she has long since vanished from the stories that the little ones tell. They have forgotten that the name Death once belonged to a Goddess like me. They know only that I am the keeper of the flame, and that no flame can last forever.

Author's Note:

After I wrote this fic, which really is one of the best I've ever done and I would love if you would go read it, I had the thought to write a whole pantheon of alicorns. This is a small piece of that idea. I hope to write a few more like it.