My Little Exalt

by Lithl

11 But What About Trixie?

My Little Exalt
BUT WHAT ABOUT TRIXIE?

by: Lithl

special thanks:

Rhanite

LordofRansei

---

"It is true, Morning Flight, Zecora is actually a zebra," Crane on the Ocean explained to his elder. Morning had been confused when Crane returned from his mission with an equine in tow, and then assumed the new Moonchild was simply wearing her spirit shape. "I do not know what the Fickle Lady intends, but Zecora must certainly be a special individual for her to be exalted despite her nature."

Morning Flight held up a hand to stave off Crane's defense of the new steward. Although she was more than a century older than Crane, she looked almost half his age. Her dark brown hair was split by a silver birthmark and her body remained firm. Morning's eyes, however, betrayed her age with a piercing quality that stared deep into men's souls.

"You do not have to fly to her defense, Crane. I understand the situation." Morning turned to Zecora, "I would like to begin your initiation immediately, if you don't mind." Zecora nodded hesitantly, still uncertain of what the process entailed.

Crane politely ducked out of the small hut the three of them sat in, leaving Zecora alone with the elder. As Morning began to gather her tattooing supplies, she struck up a conversation to try and get the zebra to relax. "According to Crane, the only language you know is Old Realm. Can you tell me how that is?"

Zecora shuffled her hooves uncertainly as Morning Flight lifted the needle to begin her work. "I do not know what to say, but Mister Crane is wrong, if I may. The languages that I know are two: Zebrican, and Equestrian too." Zecora winced as the needle pierced her flesh. "I do not know Old Realm as you claim, but it seems you hear me speak such all the same."

"What do you think we are speaking now, then?"

"Equestrian is what we speak. Zebrican is far more unique."

Morning continued her practiced motions across Zecora's right flank. "I'd love to hear some Zebrican, if you don't mind, Zecora."

"Kinyesi! Kwamba inaumiza!" the zebra shouted as Morning struck the needle in a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her tail.

Zecora turned to glare at the elder lunar. Morning smiled back at her and said, "I don't think I need a translation for that one." The moonsilver ink was blossoming into an intricate spider web across Zecora's body. The patterns etched into her skin were more than aesthetics. As Morning Flight distracted the zebra by getting her to talk about herself, Morning incorporated Zecora's words into the design.

Morning shifted the topic of discussion to stories about Zecora's childhood (or foalhood, as the zebra put it). She was born to the chieftain of the Zec clan, living at the base of Thunder Drum Mountain in Zebrica. The Zec ruled the area as a clan of scholars, shamans, and lore-keepers, and Zecora's father was the most talented potion-maker of them all. She began learning his trade from a young age, and the greatest drought Zebrica had ever seen put pressure on her to accelerate her studies.

"What did a drought have to do with learning how to make potions? Surely you don't have a potion to find water?"

Zecora shook her head, "It was not the drought, but the Bite. The drought spurred a spider blight." Zecora lifted a forehoof to the left side of her neck, as though remembering an old injury.

A particularly nasty breed of subterranean spider was forced to the surface by the drought. The spiders sought hydration from animals when they could no longer sustain themselves with groundwater. The spiders' venom continued to sap the victim of moisture long after the spider had gone, and the Zec were at a loss to treat it.

The Ne clan of laborers was the first to seek refuge at Thunder Drum, which had maintained a supply of water and had the lowest incidence of Bite victims. They also brought many more mouths to feed and water, more zebras sick and dying from the Bite, and even a few of the dreaded spiders which had hitched a ride with the Ne in their supplies. Within days of the Ne clan's arrival, Zecora's father was dealing with ten times as many patients as he had before.

Of course, without a cure for the Bite, an individual patient would only be around for two or three days before their body was left for the rocs to take away.

"You have great rocs in Zebrica?"

"When a zebra dies, a roc flies. It is every zebra's destiny to be lifted by a roc heavenly." Morning kept her surprise about the incredible abundance of great rocs in Zebrica to herself, and allowed Zecora to continue the story.

With her father overworked, Zecora took to pure research on the Bite cure. More problems arose when the warriors of the Ke clan arrived to take Thunder drum by force. The Ke took a predictably violent approach to the problem of the Bite: extermination teams of Ne workers led by a Ke warrior swept the camp surrounding the mountain regularly, searching for any and all spiders – regardless of species. The extermination teams doubled as hunters for victims of the Bite; after the Ke's takeover, all victims were expelled from Thunder Drum, left to their own devices without even the chance for a healer to help ease their passing.

Without victims, Zecora and her father could only hope to experiment with the spiders to find a cure – and housing spiders had become a crime in Thunder Drum. Eventually, their crime was discovered by an extermination team. The assault on Zecora's hut allowed one of the captive spiders to escape. Before the exterminators could destroy the rogue arachnid, the spider bit into Zecora's neck.

Morning looked up from her work. "I assume from the fact that I have the opportunity to inflict this new pain on you," she waved her needle to indicate her point, "that you found a cure?"

Zecora nodded and smiled fondly at the memory. "Yes, with the help of my father and some strange traveling ponies, we discovered a cure. The potion's main ingredient was a potent poison; it killed the venom in my veins, but it felt like I was burning from the inside out. I was left with a large green scar on my neck, which I cover as you can see. For the rest of my life, I was also forced to rhyme my words. Speaking without rhyme produced a headache so great I would... black... out..."

Zecora paused.

"I'm not rhyming."

"No, you're not. You stopped rhyming about the point in your story where the Ke were exiling the bite victims."

"How is this possible? I've rhymed ever since I earned my cutie mark!"

Morning brushed a finger along the lines of one of the glimmering silver tattoos along Zecora's back. "Well, you rhymed when you arrived. What has changed?"

"That's just it! Nothing has changed! The only thing that's happened is talking to you while you filled my skin with silver."

"And these tattoos protect your body and mind from being forcibly changed."

Zecora's eyes began to water. "Are you saying you've cured me of the side effects of the potion?"

"It seems so," Morning nodded, "but I'm not done yet. I'm afraid you're going to have to remove the golden rings from your neck."

"Perhaps you should bring Crane back in. I do not have the strength to remove the rings myself."

"Have you tried since you took your second breath, Zecora?"

Zecora looked at Morning warily, but sat down to at least humor the woman. She pulled at the seam of the topmost ring; to her surprise, the metal sprung apart as though she had exerted far more force on it than the effort she expended suggested. Zecora held the warped ring of metal between her hooves in shock. She quickly discarded it and removed the others more carefully, laying them in a pile at her hooves. Zecora absently stroked the left side of her neck once again. Morning, grasping Zecora's unvoiced thoughts, crossed the room to fetch a silvered disc. She lifted the makeshift mirror for Zecora to examine herself: no scar marred the mare's neck.

The dam finally broke, and tears of joy flowed freely from Zecora's eyes.

---

Gilda awoke to shouting, in that same unintelligible language of the brutes that had carried her away. She had been dropped unceremoniously in a pile of pine needles, and through the fog clouding her mind she could make out her own name in the shouting.

"{I said to bring} Gilda, {you morons! Did I tell you to go capture a griffin? No! I sent you on a simple retrieval mission. All you had to do was go find the new moonchild and bring her back.}" The shouting man was much smaller than Dak and Kimchee – larger than Selene had been, but much closer to Gilda's mass than the monstrosities that showed up at Gilda and Trixie's campsite. Despite the difference in size, the two oversized creatures seemed cowed before the one making all the noise. The shouting man was clad in plate armor that matched the color of the tattoos all three bore; the style reminded Gilda of the costumes worn for Commander Hurricane in the ponies' Hearthswarming Eve play.

The shouting man slumped, the wind lost from his sails. "{I can't do much of anything with a captive griffin except maybe make a roast. And that's another moonchild that may be lost to chimerism. She might get picked up by someone from the Winding Path, but that hardly helps our cause.}"

At some point, Dak had stopped listening to the shouting and begun stroking Trixie's mane. For her part, she let herself enjoy the feeling of the creature's fingers in her hair. She hadn't yet figured out a way to escape with Gilda, but surely a little personal pleasure couldn't hurt?

"{Dak! Stop playing with the wyld horse!}"

Dak whined like a pitiful child, but complied with the order. When he released Trixie, she whined as well. "Oh, can't we go on just a little bit longer? Your paw feels so wonderful in Trixie's mane! It's not hard and sharp like Gilda's claws!"

The armored man froze. He switched gears, and when he began talking again, he was speaking intelligibly, like Selene had done. "You can speak? That's an incredible mutation! I've never seen the like! And you say you know Gilda?"

Gilda sat up from the pile of needles where she had been laid and disregarded by the humans. "Of course she knows who I am. We've been traveling companions for almost three months now." She casually picked a few needles out of her feathers. "By the way, I can't express how glad I am that there's one of you that can speak sensibly. I was beginning to wonder if Selene was the only one."

Dak and Kimchee looked to each other, not understanding the conversation. Kimchee shrugged and began plodding off into the nearby pine forest; Dak soon followed, leaving Gilda and Trixie alone with the armored man. He turned slowly towards Gilda, eyes wide open. "You can speak, too?"

Gilda scoffed, "Of course I can speak. All griffins can speak."

The man scowled. "Griffins may be able to communicate with one another, but they certainly can't speak. I'll prove it." The sallow skin on his face rippled, and a coat of feathers burst forth. His nose and mouth melded together, stretched out, and hardened to form a beak. The man dropped onto all fours as his hip changed shape and his knees bent backwards. Golden fur spread over the lower half of his body, and his hands became sharp claws. In moments, what had once been an alien figure in silver armor became a handsome griffin in silver armor.

"... Hawt," was all Gilda could manage.

The griffin let out a few squawks and chirps as if to demonstrate the lack of linguistic ability. He coughed, and then began again. "As you can see, the griffin vocal system is not designed for human speech."

Trixie waved a hoof to get his attention. "Trixie would like to point out a flaw in your argument."

The man-turned-griffin released a low, annoyed growl from deep within his throat. "I'm able to speak now by using magic. The normal griffin throat can't produce these sounds."

The griffin transformation reversed and he stood as a human once again (much to Gilda's disappointment). "You're obviously no ordinary griffin. What is your name?"

"I thought you already knew my name? It's Gilda. And this here is—"

"The Great and Powerful Trixie!"

"Right, she's Trixie," Gilda said with a sigh.

The man began muttering to himself, "How could Luna have picked an animal to be one of her chosen? She's admittedly a unique specimen, but still; the chosen are all humans."

"What's that about Princess Luna?"

He turned back to Gilda and cried out, "Princess?! Luna is the Fickle Lady. She is the many-faced trickster. She is the goddess of the moon." The man's voice grew passionate as he threw out sobriquet after sobriquet for his goddess. Finally after he reached a climax in his monologue he said flatly, "One thing Luna is not, however, is a mere princess."

Gilda waved away the man's stare with a claw. "Whatever. You know our names. What's yours?"

"Ah! My apologies. You may call me Stalker. And you must be very confused about what exactly is going on."

Gilda nodded. "You could say that."

"Come with me, you need to get your tattoos as soon as possible." Stalker walked into the forest in the same direction Dak and Kimchee had left, leaving Gilda and Trixie to follow.

---

The encampment of the Seneschals of the Sun Kings, as Stalker called it, was composed of a half dozen tree-huts in the pine forest, each built in the largest trees available. The buildings were connected by rope bridges, with platforms on the smaller trees between them. While some Seneschals used the bridges to travel between the buildings – as one might expect – others simply leapt from tree to tree as they desired.

"Gilda, Luna has granted you a great gift. You are now one of her children. But you are only half of what you should be," Stalker began explaining as they walked underneath the small tree-bound community.

"What do you mean?"

"Our name does not include the phrase 'Sun King' for no reason. The world was built by the gods, and by design the chosen of the Unconquered Sun were meant to rule it. When Luna created us, each of our exaltations was paired with one of the Solar exaltations." Stalker stopped, and placed a hand on Gilda's head. "Until you find the current incarnation of your Solar mate, you will be an incomplete being."

Stalker looked up to the building above their group and said, "Come, let's go up and fix you up with a caste." In seconds, Stalker changed his form again; this time he became a short, bipedal reptilian creature with long neck and tail. His new scaled skin almost looked like its own kind of armor, yet as before with his griffin transformation, his silver armor changed to fit his new shape.

Once Stalker's transformation was complete, his powerful legs launched him a quarter of the way up the height of the tree. From there, he leapt back and forth between the tree he had indicated to Gilda and Trixie and its neighbors, climbing higher with every jump. Finally, he landed on the platform near the tree's canopy and changed back. "Come up and I'll tell you more!" he called down.

Gilda looked to Trixie and shrugged. She unfurled her wings and with only a few flaps, she was airborne. Gilda landed neatly next to Stalker on the wooden platform before turning back to watch for Trixie's arrival.

Stalker paused. "Um. How does your talking horse intend to get up here? I expected you to bring her up with you."

His question was immediately answered by a rush of wind which flung the mare into the air, then caught her to land gently on the platform's surface. Gilda turned to Stalker with a smug grin, "That's h—"

Gilda's snark was interrupted by Stalker calling out in his unintelligible language, "{Dragon-Blood in the camp! Warriors report to the Midnight Tree!}" He dropped into a fighting stance, and began to change shape again. This transformation highly resembled the previous one, but he grew larger and more ferocious rather than shrinking. He also seemed to stop halfway between man and beast. Around the forest, other Seneschals took heed of Stalker's call: some were brandishing weapons and running along the rope bridges, others were transforming much like Stalker had.

The half-beast, half-man spoke to Gilda through a mouth full of teeth that didn't quite fit, without taking his eyes off Trixie. "Did you know your 'traveling companion' was the enemy?"

Gilda shook her head in disbelief. "What in Tartarus are you talking about? Trixie's not—" Once again, Gilda was cut off as one of the other Seneschals charged in, attempting to catch Trixie unaware while her attention was focused on Stalker. Gilda launched high through the air, catching the offender solidly on the check with one of her paws, claws fully extended. The claws left deep gouges in the woman's skin, and the force of the blow knocked her off the edge of the platform. Gilda landed behind her unicorn companion with muscles tensed, ready to fight. With the element of surprise lost, Trixie lowered her horn to face Stalker and pawed at the platform under her feet.

"What are you doing, Gilda?!" Stalker cried out as other Seneschals – both human and beast – began to gather around the trio. "Why are you defending filth like her?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Stalker!" Gilda called back, refusing to tear her eyes away from the armed exalted in front of her. "Trixie saved my life, and griffins repay their debts!"

Stalker relaxed his stance slightly in confusion. "She... saved your life?" He shook his head and returned to battle-readiness. "I'm sure it was simply a ploy to lead a Wyld Hunt to the den of our pack. If not our pack, then some other Lunar's."

"We haven't seen anyone except animals and you guys since coming to this stupid place!"

"Yes! Trixie doesn't even know what a 'Wild Hunt' is!"

"Gee, what a shocker." Gilda rolled her eyes.

Trixie broke her concentration and turned to glare at her griffin companion. "Are you saying Trixie is not smart?"

Gilda responded in kind, butting her head right up against Trixie's. "I'm certainly not saying you are!"

Trixie huffed. "Anything you know, Trixie knows better!"

"I know everything you know and more!"

"No you don't!"

"Yes I do!"

"No you don't!"

"Yes I do! Yes I do!"

Stalker and his companions looked to each other, uncertain. In theory, the blue horse was an enemy and a threat to the group. In practice, the horse and griffin had begun ignoring the impending battle completely in favor of arguing with each other.

"Trixie can eat most anything!"

"How 'bout a rat?" Gilda offered.

"Ew, not that!"

Stalker coughed, breaking the pair out of the private little world they had created. In an annoyed unison, they cried, "What?!"

"Your companion is Dragon-Blooded."

"Trixie doesn't know what that means." Gilda tried to stifle a snicker, and caught a glare from Trixie for it.

Stalker was dumbfounded, and his face showed it as he transformed back to his human form. He waved the other Seneschals away and ushered Gilda and Trixie into the tree-hut; the apparent threat was a false alarm. "How can you not know who you are?"

"Look, Stalker," Gilda began, "we only showed up here less than a week ago. We've been alone since that stupid... whatever it was brought us here. We showed up and Trixie had these new powers. A few days later I talked with someone that called herself 'Selene.' The next morning I was picked up by Tweedledee and Tweedledum, and now we're here."

"Both of you are a blank slate." Stalker made it more of a statement than a question. Under his breath he sighed, "Fantastic."

"Come, sit!" Stalker gestured to a series of mats inside the tree-hut. After Gilda made herself comfortable, Stalker began setting a series of bowls next to her. "While I begin giving Gilda here her caste, I can treat the two of you to a history lesson. Trixie, you can know the truth of the world before the others like you poison your mind with their lies." Stalker turned to Gilda, "This might hurt a little bit, but it shouldn't take too long."

Stalker began applying the tattoo needle to Gilda's hide; she stubbornly refused to show any reaction to the process. While he worked, he talked. "Ages ago, the gods created the world. Unfortunately, their access to heaven was blocked off by treacherous primordial beings, who bound the gods against taking action to claim their right.

"The gods found a solution in humanity, who had no restriction against taking the necessary action, merely lacking the power to succeed. Gaia's children, the Elemental Dragons, exalted ten thousand mortals – only one hundred of them men – to create the foundation of the exalted army. The unique nature of their exaltation allowed power to spread along bloodlines, and spread it did. On average, each of those Dragon-Blooded women bore thirty children in her lifetime. Masira, the Tree of Many is still a legend today; she bore an even hundred.

"The Unconquered Sun chose three hundred mortals to empower. These Solars served as the generals in the war, and they were the great champions who gave hope to the armies and ultimately brought the primordial beasts to their collective knees.

"The Five Maidens of Destiny created one hundred exalted to serve as advisors to the Solar generals. The Sidereals could read the future in the stars, and they could manipulate Fate to gain advantage in battle.

"Finally, our lady Luna created us. For every Solar, a Lunar mate. We are half of a whole, and our soul resonates when we find our partner.

"Eventually, the war was won. The gods took their rightful place in heaven, and the Solars took their rightful rule over the world. We stayed by their sides for a golden age of peace and prosperity. Their benevolent rule brought exalt and mortal alike a life none could have dreamed of.

"Then disaster struck. The Dragon-Blooded host, who had served so well in wartime and so well in peacetime, rebelled. The traitors trapped the rulers of the world in an ambush, not only taking lives, but destroying most of the capital city in the process. Those that escaped the bloodshed and those that hadn't been there in the first place were hunted down like animals and put to the sword. To make matters worse, they found some way of preventing the souls of our partners from reincarnating.

"The traitors established a new regime, held together by flimsy threads. A few hundred years ago another traitor replaced that first government with her new empire, but that's been ruined by infighting almost since the beginning. It's painfully obvious that the Dragon-Blooded were not meant to rule the world. That's why the Seneschals were created: to take back the world for our mates' return."

Stalker looked to Gilda and Trixie for their reactions. Trixie's mind was still stuck near the beginning of his story. "You expect Trixie to foal thirty times?!"

Gilda, at least, had made it all the way through. "Wow, you dweebs really are shooting for the stars, huh? The whole world? Ambitious. How do you expect to do it with so few?"

Stalker waved away Gilda's question. "Oh, this camp is not the extent of our numbers. We have other camps, and there are always Seneschals running missions against the traitors. Now then," he said as he scrutinized his work, "tell me about your life, so that I can customize your tattoos to you."

"Pft, my story isn't very special."

"How special you see your life is less important than the fact that it is your life."

Gilda sighed. "I wasn't born in one of the aeries like a 'proper' griffin. I was born within Equestria's borders, and all of the 'proper' griffins treated me like I was a pony because of it. Nogriffin even had to ask – they just knew, as though I had a pony scent or something. Even my parents shipped me off to the pony flight camp every chance they got, which just made the problem worse..."

---

"For your first trial, Zecora," Morning Flight began, "please fell this tree by whatever means you deem necessary. You have until the sun sets to complete your task. Begin."

The tree that Morning indicated was an ancient oak. The tree's branches had grown so long and fat that they drooped low to the ground; some branches even touched down to become secondary supports for the massive living structure. The elder Lunar stood back to observe Zecora's approach to the problem.

Zecora pondered her options. Somepony like Applejack (or more likely her brother Big McIntosh) might be able to simply buck the tree into oblivion, but the child of the Zec clan leader did not have a lifetime of physical exertion to build up the muscles necessary for such a task. Digging up the tree's roots would work to topple the giant, but such an endeavor would likely take multiple days, and she had less than one.

Zecora looked to her mentor and asked, "Could you complete this task in the time allotted yourself?"

Morning raised an eyebrow at the question, but replied immediately and simply: "Yes."

Zecora nodded to herself and said, "Morning Flight, could you please cut this tree down for me?"

Without a word, silver nails extended from the tips of Morning's fingers. The woman strode up to the tree and calmly slashed out with one hand. Nothing apparently happened, until Morning dismissed her claws and lightly tapped on the bark of the old tree. Slowly, the tree tipped away from her. As gravity took hold, the tree began to fall faster, and Morning whispered, "Timber."

With a great crash and many snapping branches, the ancient tree fell to the ground. Morning Flight turned back to Zecora. "Congratulations on completing your first trial. Unfortunately, you've failed at the intended purpose: the Test of Mettle. That said, I did instruct you to use 'whatever means you deem necessary,' without stipulating any conditions. By seeing the loophole in my trial and completing it without taking a single step, you've definitely succeeded at the Test of Cunning. For that, you deserve praise."

---

Stalker was out of his armor, and had begun tying a rope around Gilda's body. "For this next trial, I cannot permit you to fly. This rope is to ensure your compliance."

"Couldn't you use something a little more comfortable? This thing itches." Stalker ignored Gilda's complaints.

"We're currently at the Midnight Tree. Over there," Stalker pointed to another tree-hut in the distance, "is the Dawn Tree." Stalker set two small bowls on the deck in front of Gilda, each filled almost to the brim with water. "When I tell you to begin, you will have ten minutes to get these two bowls from Midnight to Dawn, without spilling any water on the way. Do you have any questions before you begin?"

"How in Tartarus am I supposed to do that?! Without my wings it'll take me at least five minutes to get over there. Trying to avoid spilling anything on your stupid rope bridges will slow me down to a crawl, and there's no way I can avoid spilling any if I have to be on my hind legs holding both of those bowls in my claws!" Gilda glared at Stalker as hard as she could, but he was unfazed.

"This is called a 'trial' for a reason, Gilda. It is your duty to find a solution to the problem I've presented to you."

"There's no way this has any value in the real world!"

Stalker frowned. "The town of 'Dawn' is dying of plague. You've found a hermit named 'Midnight' who can supply a cure. He makes a quantity that will save the town, but the only means you have to store the cure is difficult to transport. If you do not get the cure back to 'Dawn' quickly, everyone will be either dead or too far gone to save. What do you do?"

"That scenario is ludicrous!" Gilda shouted. Trixie stood by and nodded in agreement.

"That scenario is actually similar to my experience with an unnamed hamlet about seven hundred miles southwest of here." Stalker narrowed his eyes. "There are several hundred people alive today who would be dead if it were not for my own actions."

Gilda growled a bit, but eventually nodded her head and stared at the two bowls. "Ready."

"Begin!"

Gilda gingerly lifted one bowl in a claw. She carefully moved a paw forward to balance herself on two legs as she grabbed the other bowl and began to stand upright. When she finally stood erect, she wobbled a bit and tried to spread her wings for balance, but the rope held firm. She desperately shifted the weight on her paws to steady herself while swinging the bowls to keep the water inside. After an awkward dance she had eaten up a full minute of her time, but she had both bowls, and she had spilled nothing.

Gilda began a slow bipedal walk towards the nearest rope bridge. Halfway across, she was beginning to get used to the bipedal motion, even if it did put undue strain on her body. Trixie stomped an applause at the other end of the bridge. "Go Gilda! You can do it!"

Gilda finished crossing the first bridge with seven minutes on the clock, and her legs wobbled as she stepped onto the platform before the next one. Stalker and Trixie stepped onto the bridge as soon as Gilda stepped off, to follow her progress. After she recovered her balance and ensured that no water had been spilled yet, Gilda began on the second bridge.

Gilda's excellent progress was halted before she even passed the midway point on the second bridge. Stalker grabbed the ropes on his end, and he began to swing the bridge causing Gilda to lose her balance. She instinctively tried once again to spread her wings, but the rope binding held. Gilda fell in a tangle to the bridge floor, dropping both bowls into the forest below.

"Hey, what gives?!" she cried as she extricated herself from the bridge's ropes. Once free, she slashed her bindings and flew back to meet Stalker, butting heads with him and the smug grin he wore. "That's cheating, flankface!"

"Is it?" Stalker asked. "When did I say you would be left undisturbed throughout the trial?" Gilda dropped to the deck with no rebuttal, but her face reddened with anger.

"I commend you for your efforts, Gilda. It could not have been easy to walk like that for you. However, you could have tried thinking about the problem more before rushing into action." Stalker began to walk back towards the Midnight Tree that the trial had begun at and Gilda and Trixie both followed.

"First thing's first, you had an ally by your side that you did not seek for assistance. I'm sure if you'd asked, Trixie would have gladly carried one of the bowls for you. For this, you fail in the Test of Succor." Stalker walked back into the tree-hut, and returned with another bowl filled with water. "Of course, even with Trixie's help, you would have spilled water when I shook the bridge. However, something like this would have been easy for a quadruped like you." Stalker leaned forward over the bowl of water, and lifted his cotton shirt out of the way. He pressed the bowl tightly against his skin before standing back upright. The seal was good, and no water spilled to the floor. Stalker took a few steps around to finish making his point. He released the bowl of water and set it aside. "You showed no reasoning or forethought in this trial, and for that you fail the Test of Wisdom."

Gilda's head bowed, cowed. After being told that she'd passed several tests, the information that she'd failed two at once was humbling. "So, failing these tests... what does that mean, exactly?"

Stalker's expression softened. "Gilda, I'm using these trials to evaluate your skills and personality, to help determine what your caste ought to be. A failure is as useful to me as success; in fact, I never expected you to pass all of the trials. Succeeding at everything is nearly unheard of. Even an elder Lunar would likely fail at one or two of the tests, simply because of the means by which they choose to approach problems."

Stalker walked to the edge of the platform. "Now, for this next trial, we're going to need to head to the edge of the forest..."

---

"I can't do it!"

"Zecora, this is instinctual for you."

"I'm a zebra, how is eating a bird instinctual?! The thought alone makes me nauseous!"

Morning Flight sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Zecora, you've been hunting this bird for hours. Did it never occur to you what comes at the end of a Sacred Hunt?"

Zecora shifted nervously. "I... I didn't want to think about it. I suppose I thought we would track her down and you would finish things, then we could leave."

"Zecora." Morning Flight glared at her. "I am not the hunter today. You are. The Hunt can only be completed by you, and only by tasting the raven's heart's blood. Once you are done, you will have earned the right to take on that raven's form. You will have the power of flight at your finger... er... hooves."

"I don't want it!" Zecora shouted as she shook her head. "Not at this price!"

The sudden noise spooked the raven Zecora had been tracking, and it flew away. Zecora relaxed, but Morning scowled. "Fine. Stay unblooded if you want. I'm leaving."

Morning turned back the way the pair had come, and Zecora scrambled to follow and keep up.

---

Stalker brought out the needle and ink for the final session modifying Gilda's tattoos. "Gilda, I'm concerned. Trixie says you've been going out hunting almost every day, sometimes more than once. She says you haven't been bringing back food, either. Tell me: have you been performing Sacred Hunts?"

Gilda snorted. "Yeah, what of it?"

"As a friend, I'm just worried for you. The Sacred Hunt can be very draining if you're not careful. I don't want you to become addicted to the experience."

"I'm fine, mother." Gilda waved away Stalker's concerns. "I can take care of myself."

Stalker gave her a thin smile. "Yes, you've proven yourself more than capable. Now, there are two more things you must do to complete your initiation: your Declaration of Stewardship, and your Deed Name.

"You must select a place, a thing, a concept, a person – something – that you will defend and shepherd in Luna's name. And you must select a new name, one which defines you as a Moonchild. You may continue to go by 'Gilda' if you wish, or you may use your Deed Name as you choose, but I need to incorporate your Stewardship and Deed Name into your tattoos in order to complete the work."

"Shouldn't Trixie be here?"

"This portion of your initiation is intensely personal. If I could have you scribe the tattoos yourself, I would. I've asked Trixie to keep away while we complete it."

Gilda nodded in understanding, and then closed her eyes in contemplation. Minutes passed. Stalker was about to check whether she had accidentally fallen asleep when her eyes snapped open again.

"My time here with you and the other Seneschals has been enlightening, to be certain. I've learned more about myself in the past month than I'd rather admit, honestly. You've helped me understand some of what's happened to me, and taught me about this new world Trixie and I have landed in. I don't know how we got here, and I don't know how or if we'll get back home. But she and I have managed to truly become a part of this world, and given what you've told me, I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing.

"Trixie may want to do what she can to leave. I don't know. I know I've used my life-debt to her as an excuse before, but the truth is that I've come to enjoy her company. I even enjoy when we fight. I'd like to stay with her, even if she doesn't complete me like my Solar mate will. So, I think it's appropriate that I become Trixie's Steward." Gilda paused. "You were right to say that this was personal, Stalker. I'm not sure how comfortable I am with her hearing any of this."

Stalker nodded. "She won't hear anything unless you tell her. Do you have any ideas for your Deed Name?"

"Yes, it feels almost obvious. Perhaps it's something to do with Luna or my past exaltations or something, but the words came to me easily. 'Heaven-Piercing Eagle' just feels... right."

Stalker nodded and, for the last time, brought the tattoo needle to Gilda's hide and began his work.

---

"Fair day, Zecora!" Crane called out to the zebra. "Where are you off to in such a rush?"

"I'm leaving, Crane. Neither you nor Morning can stop me. This whole blood hunting thing is revolting."

Crane's smile shifted to a frown as he looked over Zecora's shoulder. The mare turned to see Morning Flight right behind her. "It's one thing to refuse to allow yourself to hunt, Zecora," She said quietly, "And you're welcome to leave our company. But I haven't completed your tattoos yet and I cannot permit you to leave until they are done."

"Besides," Crane added, "You've no idea how to get back to that crazy pink pony. I flew you here, remember?"

"Fine," Zecora huffed, "Finish your tattoos."

"It's not quite so simple, Zecora." Morning Flight looked Crane in the eyes, and he bowed himself out of the conversation. "The last part of the tattooing requires that you choose your Stewardship and your Deed Name."

Zecora raised an eyebrow. "A Deed Name? I thought I had already told you: I've already got one."

Morning's surprise showed on her face. "Indeed? I don't recall you mentioning that. What is your name, then?"

"Ora, Thrice Abandoned. A depressing name, certainly, but it's mine."

"It is the name of a pessimist, but you are a new person now. Perhaps it is time for a new Deed Name?"

Zecora considered the possibility of renaming herself. "Perhaps you are right, Morning. Perhaps 'Thrice Found' would be a more positive name to take on."

"And what would you take on as a Stewardship, then?"

Without stopping to think about it, Zecora replied, "Herbivism."

Morning Flight blinked twice. The forest was silent. Zecora didn't bat an eye. Finally, Morning said, "Very well. Let's get those tattoos finished."

From the boughs of one of the nearby trees, a voice drifted down to meet the pair. "Once you're done with that, I've got a Pinkie Promise to fulfill." Zecora and morning looked up to see a large lizard basking in the sun near the top of the tree. The lizard was covered in moonsilver tattoos, and half of its face was missing.

---

"Here," Stalker held out a silver axe and sheathe to Gilda. "This is Mightchopper, the Hatchet of the Immovable Home. He was forged in a bygone era, and he has served me well in battles past. I wish you to have it before you leave."

"You're waxing poetic, Stalker," Gilda needled the older Lunar as she accepted the weapon. When Stalker released it into her grip, she was surprised by the weight and dropped it to the deck. "Tartarus, that thing's heavy!"

"You'll get used to him." Stalker winked.

Gilda fastened the belt comfortably just in front of her flank, with the axe in easy reach of her right claw. She paused. "What do you mean, 'before I leave'?"

"I want to send you on a mission for the Seneschals. Are you interested?"

Gilda's eyes sparkled. "Are you kidding? Of course I am!"

"Good." Stalker handed Gilda a folded parchment. "Here's a map to where you'll be going. We've learned of the existence of an organization that may be sympathetic to our cause. They call themselves the 'Cult of the Illuminated,' who worship and wait for the return of the 'Shining Ones.' That is, they revere the Solars, or at least they claim to."

"So you want me to find out if these guys are on the up-and-up, and beat them to a pulp if they're not?"

Stalker hemmed and hawed before responding, "More or less. They're surprisingly widespread, and they understandably hide their existence from the Realm dogs. In that, they resemble us. We've gotten word of the location of one of their cells. I want you to go check them out. If the cult is everything we've heard, then you're to set up a meeting between whatever they use for leadership and Swims in Shadows."

Gilda cocked her head to the side. "Swims in Shadows? I'm pretty sure I've met all the Seneschals here, and that name has never come up."

"Don't forget, we're not the only Seneschals in the world." Stalker put a hand on Gilda's shoulder. "Swims in Shadows is the eldest Seneschal on the council of elders, and he speaks for his own mentor, Leviathan." Stalker pointed to the map Gilda had absently tucked into her belt. "I've left some instructions for you on how to get in contact with Swims in Shadows on the map."

Gilda began walking out of the tree-hut, but Stalker called out to her and she stopped. "Gilda. Make sure Trixie leaves with you."

"I wouldn't dream of forgetting her!" Gilda waved and flew out.

"Your presence is the only reason the others haven't torn her asunder," Stalker whispered to the empty room.

Author's Note:

Zecora's story is adapted headcanon from Doctor Whooves – the Series: Episode 3 – Along Came a Spider. The zebra clans and naming scheme (Zecora is "Ora" born into the "Zec" clan) are from Into the world of Hooves and Hands, Through a Humans Eyes. I recommend both stories!

The Seneschals of the Sun Kings and the Winding Path are two factions within the Lunar exalted society. Other factions include the Crossroads Society, the Swords of Luna, and the Wardens of Gaia. Approximately half of all Lunars belong to one of the factions (and some Lunars belong to more than one, especially members of the Crossroads Society).

It's really too bad Zecora is being spoiled on the Sacred Hunt right now. Later she could learn Laurels-and-Ivy Technique to perform the Sacred Hunt on plants; I'm sure she'd be much more amenable to that!

Comments

[Saphroneth]

Yeah, carnivorism isn't something Zecora would take to at all well.
And I like the slightly distorted version of the story they've been told (that is, the Gods being named as creators not the Primordials). If I understand it right, the Primordials created the universe, then made the Gods to keep it running.

[Lithl]

1841167
You're correct about the true story. However, the absolute truth is not known to any being in the Exalted universe. Even the Primordials/Yozis/Neverborn don't know about Time Not, and the Raksha who know about Time Not don't know that much of what happened/happens within the borders of Creation.

Swims in Shadows is the oldest Lunar that is actively a member of the Seneschals of the Sun Kings, but he's only about a decade older than the Great Contagion. (Leviathan, mentor to Swims in Shadows, was a naval commander during the First Age. He's technically a member of the Seneschals, but he spends most of his time in the deep ocean with the city of Luthe, his own personal Atlantis.) While the Seneschals wish to return the world to Solar rule, none of them have ever experienced that world, and they've glorified it over the centuries.

[Saphroneth]

1841233
Oh, I know it's lost knowledge. I ust like the idea that memories are influenced by faction, and stories become distorted as they're handed down... though, presumably, someone with Past Lives 5 would have some idea as would Autocthon.

[Lithl]

1841292
Autochthon is in a coma in hammer space with hyper-robo-cancer~

It's true you can find plenty of people that know the gods didn't create the world (hell, just ask some of the gods!). For every person who knows the order of events surrounding the Primordial War, though, you'll find ten that get it wrong. (And a thousand that go, "WTF is a Primordial?")

[Saphroneth]

1841332
I wonder if it would be possible to fix Autocthon by killing all his souls twice, in the Exalted version of a hard reset...
It makes illogical sense, which is at least worth a try in Exalted terms.

And as I understand it, sans the effects of the curse laid on the Solars, they were pretty good. (Took a hell of a long time for them to be corrupted, and in the meantime the world was kind of like the writers behind Gurren Lagann, Dragonball Z and Lord of the Rings had been told to go nuts. Cool place to live, at the very least.)

[Lithl]

1841379
Oh hells yeah, the First Age was awesome. The Age of Sorrows is the result of a combination of Medieval Stasis and Older is Better. Some technology from the First Age would belong more in a sci-fi setting than a high fantasy setting.

[Saphroneth]

1841429
I seem to recall giant robots, a gun that works by prayer, and those superweapons that made some random Dragon-Blood into the overlord of most of the world.

[Lithl]

1841433
Giant robots: Check
Fancy guns: Check
The Mother-Buckin' Sword of Creation: Check Check!

Of course, the nameless Dragon-Blooded soldier who took control of the Imperial Manse, brought the Sword to bear against the armies of the Balorian Crusade, and later named herself Scarlet Empress had to make a few concessions. She sacrificed the lives of her closest friends in order to simply gain access to the control room. She also had to make a faustian bargain in order to operate the weapon. Her firstborn child became the tool by which demons corrupted champions of the world, and her own marriage ceremony is the escape plan for one of the most evil beings in the world (from the subjective viewpoint of humanity at large, anyway). Let's not forget that her wedding ring will basically turn her into a husk to be controlled at will.

... You know, looking at that, it would have been in the world's best interest if the Scarlet Empress had simply committed suicide after driving back the Raksha.

[Saphroneth]

1841468
So.
First age = DBZ + Gurren Lagann + Lord of the Rings.
After that, Warhammer 40K collided with the setting.

[Breakfateschain]

I take it Gilda will rely more on knacks, while Zecora uses more charms?

[Breakfateschain]

1841548You know, a First-Age Solar Exalted is one of the few things Cthulhu would run from

[Saphroneth]

1841574 I believe that was the entire point of making them.

[Lithl]

1841561
By virtue of the fact that all Knacks are related to shapeshifting, and the nature of the Sacred Hunt has turned Zecora off of shapeshifting, yes.
Also, Gilda has the Heart's Blood Addiction Wyld Mutation.

That said, Zecora wouldn't have any problem with Laurels-and-Ivy Technique (allowing form acquisition of plants). Raksha do not actually have blood*, so she might be OK with Hungry Dream Cloak... but it's still assaulting a sapient being. Ash and Tears Banquet makes ghosts valid targets for the Hunt, and they're already dead. Somnolent Statuary Method simply lets you merge with an inanimate object. Of course, all of those Knacks are Essence 4 or 5.

There are also knacks unrelated to gaining new forms, but rather refining existing forms. Who knows? Maybe Zecora wants some R63 action with Twin-Faced Hero?

* The Raksha blood is a lie! media.giantbomb.com/uploads/7/73336/1240174-portal_cake_sign_04_crisp_tiny.png
(No, really! Raksha use woven lies in place of blood!)

[Samdamandias]

It updates! Yay!

I still think that Dash should exalt as a Scourge caste Infernal (and then go full Devil-Tiger)

[Breakfateschain]

So why Seneschals of the Sun Kings for Gilda? I always pictured her as more of a Swords of Luna type of Lunar

[Lithl]

1842271
For a baby Lunar, being initiated into one of the factions is largely a matter of luck based on the pack that finds you. More experienced Lunars may change what faction they associate themselves with (including joining multiple factions, or leaving all of them).

Here's a thought experiment: Wipe all of your memories. A Democrat walks up to you and talks to you about his political beliefs. They sound fine, yeah? You register as a Democrat. Later you may learn about Republicans or the other smaller political parties, you learn about their political views. You consider them, and you may decide you agree with someone other than the Democrats. You switch parties.

Gilda's currently at that first stage. She encountered her first faction, and all she's heard about is what they believe. It sounds reasonable, so she's joined them. If the Crossroads Society had picked her up, she may have even nudged herself on the path of becoming a sorceress. Instead, the Seneschals found her, so she's become enamored with the idea of finding her soulmate (literally). In-universe, it was basically just random chance that she ended up with the Seneschals.

As for why I've written her into the Seneschals instead of, say, the Swords, well... it's part of the story arc I've got planned for Gilda and Trixie. Part of it has already come up; the Seneschals are the only faction that is immediately hostile to Dragon-Blooded (individual Lunars may become hostile and Dynasts wouldn't exactly be welcome by most, but other factions would have a much milder reaction to the revelation that there was a DB among them), and who actively fight against the Realm. Gilda defended Trixie, and she grew to realize more about the relationship they have, resulting in her Stewardship.

[webkilla]

Awesome chapter

I liked the lunar trials thing - good thinking.

[webkilla]

Also, dunno if you've noticed - I'm also writing a MLP/Exalted crossover (More played straight, ponies instead of humans, everything else as is)

I know you're partially basing your work on Rhanite - If you want some original art for your story then I'm game. Just PM me a good character desc and maybe link a ref/inspiration pic or two - can be both human or pone

[Izoka78ultimate]

Two questions 1. Do you intend to incorporate the Abyssals in any way 2. By chance is Rainbow Dash Gilda's mate?

[Lithl]

1913012
1. Shoat of the Mire has already appeared (when Octavia was exploring Ponyville). She'll show up again when the story gets back to covering events occurring in Equestria (this probably won't be for a little while). Melkin Fool in Red has been sent notice to drop her activities with the Circus Moribund and keep watch for the ponies. I don't currently have plans to include any other Abyssal characters. I did say earlier (1553226) that Infernals would appear later, though. That should happen within a couple of chapters. There will be three of them.

2. Gilda and Zecora are both going to encounter their mates during this story. No comment as to who the mates are, or whether the mates are even ponies.