A small-time adventurer plots to prove the existence of a place forgotten by time- and perhaps should not even exist at all.
Though doubted in its existence, many daredevil explorers have spread hushed tales of a very peculiar clearing in the already plenty peculiar Everfree forest. It's said one may come across a grand lake, where a thick haze obscures the senses and, regardless of when you entered, a starless, inky black night will blanket the normally beautiful Equestrian sky. Not even the moon is safe from this eternal night. Some speculate it to be a leftover mistake from Nightmare Moon's madness, which the ruling sisters would rather forget than fix. This seems to be the most likely theory, as the waters that cover this great clearing seems to have... dark spirits lingering on in it's murky depths.
While no precise measurements exist and speculations wildly differ, many still believe walking around the lake's perimeter to be the safest route to continue on past it, as the lurking terrors in the foggy mire aren't worth the time saved. Of course, that is to believe this abomination even exists. Explorers are notorious for fluffing their stories of intrigue and wonder with just that...
Some do swear by it, though. Those who claimed to have seen it. They can only speak of it in whispers, which is partly why it has the name 'Marianna’s Silence.' The name truly comes from the lake itself though, and the whole area that surrounds it. The usually alive, watching Everfree is eerily quiet in this region. Her waters are completely flat, assuming you aren't paddling a canoe through it, and even then, you'll only see the ripples on the murky surface. The water is like ink, and not even a vague reflection would show if you were to look into it... but you know what they say about voids.
The haunting quiet will snuff out your screams when you see ripples in the flat water that obviously didn't come from you, or when you hear an odd scratching on the bottom surface of your canoe.
The Undiscovered West is a sort of lazy curiosity to the ponies of Equestria. While their knowledge of the western border is lacking, Equestria seems to care little in formal colonization of the region, letting it merely serve as the curious stretch of land that signifies a vague stopping point in defining their country. Ponies are seldom the conquering type. To the nobility of Canterlot, whatever lies over yonder will remain, and while maybe one day proper connection to the distant land might be made, it wouldn’t be today.
That isn’t to say they wished to be separated, far be it from the hearts and minds of good Equestrians to hate their neighbors, but they simply keep their focus inward. Frontier towns and railroads could be established later, there was no hurry. Even now, Equestria slowly inches forward when presented with the idea of industrialization. Money does not motivate them, for most current-standing railroads have been built for the end result of further connecting potential friends who are spread thin by the distance of their land.
That’s their story, anyway. An outsider will quickly notice the pony race’s desire for control over their domain. The weather of what could be called the ‘core’ of Equestria is all manufactured down to the rain droplets, each fluffy cloud placed with precise care each day, every day, since the inception of the legendary Cloudsdale Weather Factory. There is an interesting paradox to take notice of here for the more thoughtful visitors to ruminate upon whilst marveling at Equestria’s landscape: The magic inherent throughout the country is indeed natural, as are their many creations. Their clouds are of no different ethereal wispy strands than those that loom over the Everfree, yet they are manufactured- by living workers, no less.
It was the ponies who decided when their seasons ought to change, not the natural fluctuations of weather. So dedicated to this need of control, the most powerful of the ponies, the Alicorn race, harnessed their magic and claimed dominion of the great celestial bodies. Now all of the world must be subject to their whim. When will the sun rise? When Celestia wills it. Some speculate that this addiction to order and control in the ponies is what created Discord so many moons ago, for the ponies had forced a perpetual abundance of what they called ‘harmony.’ This is an inherently flawed outlook however, and foreign scholars who have studied the ponies and their history correctly identify this as ‘order.’ Even in their primeal state, the ponies sought control.
Perhaps that is why, then, that Equestria seems to neglect their distant borders. Not out of xenophobia or fear of the unknown, but, more simply, because they do not yet feel able to properly control those environments so far-flung from their idyllic center. They’d be stretched too thin in their control over the natural elements.
This isn’t to portray the ponies as authoritarian or even wrong in their actions; it’s a facet of their design. So ingrained into their biology, they cannot help it. Simply, it is a fact of life.
But as stated prior, the ponies are naturally driven by this pursuit of what they deem to be correct, and to possess the powers that ensure these ‘corrections’ are made.
And sometimes, it seems the stars punish the ponies for this.
…
All cultures, equine or otherwise, remember when the sun did not rise, and morning did not follow. The madness of Nightmare Moon, and, perhaps, the biggest paradox to ever plague the equines: An individual’s dream of how the world ought to be outshining the long-standing collective dream of what was to be considered natural.
The stories said it was jealousy for her sister that plunged Princess Luna into that maelstrom of hatred, but that is how the ponies tell it. Seemingly, this had been one of the few times a pony so powerful had sharded away from the sense of common good and right that all Equestrians seem to share. While there have been an unknowable amount of ponies who thought things should be different in Equestria when it came to their control, none had ever held the prestige or power that Princess Luna did. Unlike her weaker rebellious predecessors, she possessed the power to tip the scales.
Her philosophy at the time was that the sun was flawed, for ponies could fail and be wrong during their waking moments, and that an eternal night would bring about an eternal slumber in all her subjects. There is no evil done in rest.
This would be the ultimate ensurance of harmony in Equestria, peace unending. Ponies could not misunderstand one another while they slumbered, they could not be hurt. The skies would not storm and swirl if the comforting darkness of night cooled its rage, and it too slept. All of the world would be at rest, and all would be free to dream of heaven for as long as the infinite moon hung high in the sky, it too slumbering gently.
Of course, this was insanity, and Princess Celestia would not allow such a shift in the status quo. But Luna had seen this vision of utopia, she’d been given this tantalizing glimpse through what most scholars presume now to have been divine intervention, and The Stewardess of Dreams could not continue on peacefully in this now ‘flawed’ world without seeing her ideas made manifest.
It was then that Nightmare Moon was born.
Princess Celestia was quick to shut down this rogue element and threat to both Equestria and the world, though with much regret. The Stewardess of The Sun was left devastated at her actions against her only sister, but she could not standby and let everything the ponies had built be left to ruin under disuse and inaction. Celestia did not know if Luna had the power to truly put the whole world at rest, but she did not give her sister the chance to try. For a thousand years, Nightmare Moon was to be banished into what would’ve been her singular instrument to bring about the everlasting night, and the eternal sleep that would follow suit. Some scholars argue this too to be a paradox, but many agree upon Celestia’s choice of banishment to be moreso in the vein of poetic justice or irony, though this is less important.
In the time before Nightmare Moon’s banishment however, she had left small mementos of her plans, and of her power.
Since her return, and subsequent redemption through the heroics of young Twilight Sparkle and her friends, the harmony that the ponies eternally search for seems to be restored to it’s past strength of a thousand years prior, along with all of the advancements ponykind had made since then, but…
Traces of Nightmare Moon, and her attempts at harnessing the control she longed for, remain.
And those places themselves, now with no master to enact that control, rebel against the chains of authority that lie dormant, eager to fulfill their unchanged, natural objectives. Afterall, they are natural, and just as a cloud is dictated by its nature to float and shed rain, the remnants of Nightmare Moon’s power is dictated by the forgone will of their creator.
-Excerpt, from Griffonian Scholar and Equine Anthologist Gulok’s Equestrian History
While western Equestria was very much undeveloped, you’d be wrong to assume there’s nothing there at all. Just as control is ingrained in the minds of ponies, their cutiemarks, along with the desire for open range and need to be free from the bustle of cities, ponies born to be adventurous have indeed traveled into the Undiscovered West and planted down their hearths.
The scant towns that mark the montane forests of the West carry with them rich stories. Stories of their history, their inhabitants, and, most importantly to me:
Their legends.
While the ponies of mainland Equestria seem to only care for the west’s unique obscurity for the sake of tapestrating vague rumors of beasts and the such that lie within it’s landscape to intrigue their young with, the locals know the truths. Well, they know the real rumors.
A small group of foals rushed to meet me at the edge of the settlement, dancing about with their infinite energy. Their cries of excitement alert much of the adults about my arrival as well, slowly gathering up a crowd.
“He’s back! Anon’s back!”
“Did you find that crystal thingy!?”
“You dummy! It’s The Shard of The Water’s Fall! Didn’t your mom ever tell you that story!?”
Though I’d never say it outright, it fills me with an egotistical glee that my own legend will be gaining ground in these lands as well.
“Hmm…” I begin, silently savoring the looks of wonder upon the faces of the ponies. “You mean… this?”
With showman flair, I pull the blue gem from my coat and toss it about it in my hand. The strange rock’s water flow pools at my feet, and the ponies stare in wonder. The locals had told me a few days prior of a great waterfall, one that fed crystal clear freshwater across this area of the mountains. It’s waters fed into a great many number of small streams and brooks, one of which flows through the town of Jamber itself. They spoke of a dazzling blue stone with magical properties, a perpetual thin stream of water that dripped from it’s many small openings, never to deplete.
Apparently, one of the town’s founders spotted the thing while searching for a place to build his home, long before what was now known as Jamber existed. It’s beauty had gotten him sidetracked, but it’s mystical waters had spooked him, and he fled the cave hidden behind the waterfall, thinking it to be something important, not to be messed with.
But I was no stranger to messing with things I probably shouldn’t be, however.
A wrinkled old stallion cobbled his way through the crowd.
“Yeah yeah, I heard the lot of ya, and I tolds’ ya that I’d believe it when I seens’ it-”
I couldn’t contain my grin as the stallion’s face turned from grumpy to amazed.
“... Huh… Tha’s definitely it, alright… “
I approached the old fellow and placed the rock at his hooves.
“You can keep it, if you’d like. I found it’s very easy to fracture. I broke off a small piece and dropped it into my canteen. Haven’t had to refill it since, and that was days ago. With a little more finagling, I’m certain I can fasten it in there somehow and make sure I never swallow the thing, but hey! As much water as you want I’m hoping, right?”
The stallion’s hooves were quickly soaked as he held the gem.
“Guess so… Not that we have need of a new water supply here in Jamber, but… b-but wow! I can’t believe ya found tha’ darn thing! Never thought I’d see it again, thas’ for sure! I-I thought that waterfall was too dangerous to go pokin’ around in anymore, especially since that earthquake crumbled the old trails I made! H-how’d ya do it big fella?”
This was the part I so dearly loved.
“Hmm… Anywhere to eat around here? In my experience, stories are better digested alongside good food.”
…
“... And it was at that point that I reached the final hollow of the cavern. It’s a truly beautiful landscape, by the way. Fitting that even your more dangerous areas keep with that beauty. Anyway, I noticed a shimmering light, illuminating the inside of the cave. The lights danced on the rocks in this most dazzling spectacle, but I didn’t stare for long, no, I knew it meant that whatever was casting those lights had to be underwater…”
The treasure within the belly of the beast is not my motivation, not at all.
“... I snuffed my torch and inspected the bottom of the gentle pool. Now, it’s not so strange to find such things within caves, especially in those that form under waterfalls, but this? I knew this couldn’t be right…”
The story to tell afterwards, that is what keeps me adventuring.
“... And at last, after four days of search and perilous rock climbing on the slippery jagged rocks of those great, raging rapids, I finally had found The Shard of Water’s Fall.”
“But, there was no kelpie?” The foal’s eyes sparkled, enamored at the retelling.
“Kelp- Ah! I had noticed traces of that beast’s presence within those caves, seaweed where none should be, but thankfully, for his sake, he did not cross my path.”
Silently, I took in the appreciable nods of the older stallions and mares in the bar, grateful that fear of monsters should continue to keep their young away from trying to be little adventurers of their own.
…
I kept the folks of Jamber entertained with my stories well into the night. From leaving my mark atop one of Equestria’s few active volcanoes, to my frequent run-ins with griffon pirates somewhere beyond the southern border of the Badlands. In my more humble moments, I fancied myself a storyteller moreso than an adventurer. I also fancy to think myself quite good at both. While it was mainly the young who so loved hearing the tales of my adventures, I often could enrapture the older, more mature crowds as well. In that sense, I was thankful for my uniqueness in this world: If I ran out of stories born from Equestrian mythos, I could default to those from the place I once called home.
That, and it ensured somepony would always have more questions for me to answer.
An older stallion, many of his likes which sat a further distance away from the foals, called out from across the bar “so are all your race the adventurin’ type? You seem well suited for it, but I can’t rightly say I’ve ever seen your kind before. You related to the minotaurs by any chance?”
… I buried my contempt for that question within my face. I’d not yet ventured into the minotaur lands of Labyrinthe, but one day I would, and I’d see with my own eyes just how much the bulls resembled myself. Until then however, I’d continue to brush off that ever-persistent, ever-annoying question.
“... Not from minotaur-lands, no. Not from Equestria at all. I hail from lands so distant that none of you would recognize the name.”
It came to that time of the night to tell the story I so dearly hated to recount, both because I had to tell it in each new location I visited, and because, sometimes, a lie is more believable than the truth.
And ponies dislike a story that they cannot believe to be true.
“My land of… Humania… was much like yours. Peaceful. But it lacked your land's mystique and wonder. There were no lost treasures to uncover, no strange beasts to thwart. My people all seemed content with this, but I could not. So, once I became of age, I fled my far away home on a simple sailboat, pledging to ride the waves until I found adventure, or died trying.”
The “ooo” from the foals warmed my heart a bit. My backstory was down to a sort of science in my mind by this point, I’d told so many variations of it so many times. It always left a weak panging in my heart however.
“Indeed, there were many times on that voyage when I did come close to that gruesome end… but it toughened my body and strengthened my resolve. When I finally did reach land, distant Griffonstone, I knew I’d found the means to sate my constant wanderlust…”
I continued in this recounting for far too long. I hate to tell a lie, but it was a necessary evil to me. Past experiences taught me that claims too outlandish were evidence enough to disregard all my others. And, here in these little Equestrian townships, that was the last thing I wanted. Though my coming here to Equestria was circumstance I still do not understand, I no longer share my curiosity. Better for them to admire me in the present, and wonder at my future, than them to speculate on my past; for the questions that lie there, I cannot answer.
…
“I heard Celandine Clover offered you a room at her house for the night, Mr. Anon. Gonna take her up on the offer?”
I cling my coat and shawl tighter around me, thankful for the kind gifts of a seamstress from Vanhoover, her name long forgotten.
“Afraid not. Staying in one place for too long gives me the jitters, and I’d prefer keeping hearts pining for me, rather than have them tying me down in one spot.”
The mare scoffed, her face almost fully concealed in the dark of night, forehooves up and hanging over the weak fencing of Jamber’s outskirts. Had she been expecting I’d leave in the night?
“Psh, I don’t think she likes you that much, big guy. It’s just in most pony’s sensibilities to offer a room to a pony who doesn’t have one, especially one who is gonna be the talk of the town long after he’s gone like yourself.”
“Don’t be so sure Miss, I’ve broke a hundred hearts from here to the Crystal Empire,” my smile faded quickly with the words. “It’s just… I gotta keep going. Find my next story, you know?”
The mare’s disposition had switched from light to a little more serious now, concerned, even.
“Why?”
I took my spot alongside her, leaning against the fence, staring up at the stars that blanketed Equestria’s night. In the distance, a little ways away from the small clearing that marked Jamber’s true border, some nameless forest encroached.
“ ‘Why...?’ ” I bit my tongue, wondering if this stranger would understand. “When I came to this land, I figured it my call to arms in a manner.”
Keep things vague Anon, you know the drill.
“Where I’m from, there was nothing exciting. In Equestria, everything holds a story: The towns, the forests, the mountains… each place I’ve visited, I’ve been showered in legends and rumors. They’re usually small little things, but they’re there all the same, and they hold value in the minds of you all. ‘Suppose I want to hold some of that value too.”
The stranger listened to me graciously, and allowed my words several seconds of contemplation before responding.
“So you like risking your life out there, finding our little legends?”
I picked out the brightest star in the sky I could find, and watched it like they all watched me. I liked to think that was Polaris up there, still looking down on me like it once did on Earth. The fantasy that it had followed me all this way gave me a sense of comfort when thinking about stuff like this. I knew not if the star I’d so often focus upon was Equestria’s brightest star, nor if I was even focusing upon the same star each night. The bad habit of ignorance when it came to astronomy had followed me from Earth into Equestria, and I never kept the company to learn their patterns. Polaris was the only star I knew of, and, these days, the only one I cared for.
“Yeah. It’s exactly what I wanted out of life, and it’s what I couldn’t get back home.”
The two of us enjoyed some quiet company after that. Us, and the stars above. I hadn’t noticed I was spacing out until a yawn from my unknown company made me jump.
“Well… if you ask me, Mr. Anon, I think you’re searching for something more than adventure, and I hope you let yourself find it sometime soon. Life’s too short to go tempting fate all the time.”
The mare’s body gently touched my side, giving me a soothing nicker, before dismounting the fence, turning her head towards her home of Jamber. I was thankful for the darkness now, for a frown had etched it’s way onto my face. ‘Did she not believe me?’
“Stay safe out there, Anon. We all very much liked your stories, and I know we’d all like to hear some more one day. The foals will keep your memory alive, if that’s what you’re after.”
“I will too, okay?”
I’m certain she couldn’t see, through the dim of night, but I nodded my head all the same. As her hoof-falls faded into the distant wind, I remained, only for a little while, staring up at my Polaris.
The moon would reach its perch atop the night sky, before I finally back towards the Equestrian mainland.
Through many a pristine forest did I travel through on my way from the Undiscovered West. I was very much thankful for the ponies and their strange philosophy when it came to homesteading. They seemed to possess the tools to civilize that primeal region, yet did not. It was a stark contrast to the humanity I once knew, and frankly, it was refreshing. Perhaps they didn’t yet require the elbow room. I figured this in it’s own little way was a blessing, that I did not appear in this world some few years later in the future. The Undiscovered West may not be so undiscovered the next time I visit.
There wasn’t much to speak on during this trek, besides the beauty that is present across all of Equestria. Not to imply that this consistency in any way lowered the value of the sights I saw; moreso that it made the true eyecatchers all the more memorable. This was the status quo in Equestria, and I would not expect anything less. However, it was plainly obvious to tell when one was heading in the direction of a more tamed Equestria. Weather teams become thicker in size and frequency, peacefully going about their jobs moving clouds every which way, trimming some down, fattening up others, all to fit together their own little piece in an unending daily puzzle. Frankly, it boggles my mind. It was like the pegasi -and all ponies at large- spoke some unknowable language, not to Equestria, but through Equestria, and this constant upkeep of their land and sky was akin to a teacher correcting mistakes in a student’s work. In this way, the ponies bent the natural order of their world to their will, and possessed deeper ownership of what was theirs than any humanity could ever claim.
Regardless, it seemed all roads in Equestria led not to the capital Canterlot, but instead to a little cottage town at the base of the city’s great mountain: Ponyville. You’d never expect it, with it’s small, cozy exterior, but it’s true all the same. I’d visited the place many times in my travels, yet never had much luck with finding good rumors within it’s fields. Useful rumors, I should say. The truth is, Ponyville was bounding with rumors and legends, but… but I could never make use of any of the damn things! The place must have been touched by fate, or built upon a great leyline of magic, for rarely will a day go by there without something strange happening. Alas, Ponyville was already home to a few heroes destined for greatness, and the stories there that I longed to be a part of, belonged to them. Whatever is in the air that attracts mystique and mystery to Ponyville only seems interested in those six mares. At least, they always got to them first…
…
A last call echoed from the kitchen of Ponyville’s curious gingerbread bakery. You’d think the place was a bar, what with how the patrons dallied till sundown, but you’d be wrong. It was very much a bakery, and a very good one at that. While their cakes water the mouth and alight the senses with their aromas, I preferred the heartier bread they advertised less so in their display cases. Such a disservice to them…
But it’s those you meet inside Sugarcube Corner that make the experience. With the ponies who come and go, usually just staying the night before departing to their true destination, you’ll always find new faces crowding the bakery’s many tables. That was the position I found myself in at the moment; sitting across from a cloaked unicorn mare, her eyes light and pale, expression odd. Sitting with strangers was very much normal for the Sugarcube Corner and Ponyville at large. Simply, there’s only so much room. Not that ponies mind the chance to make a new friend anyway.
“Hello.”
Apparently, the cupcake infront of her was more interesting than a greeting. It was untouched, as it had been since I’d arrived, some minutes earlier. It seemed an icebreaker was in order.
I studied her form, looking for an in. Her mane was kept short by most pony’s standards, almost like an unkempt bob. She had this dullness about her, fitting for her muted dark color scheme of black and grey. There was a distinct lack of much of anything in terms of emotion in her face. I knew this not to be stupidity, for she wore an obvious insignia of servitude to royalty, and this perplexed me all the more.
“Your Princess is Luna, I’d imagine?” my probe was out there now.
Her eyes did not so much as wander. “My service was to Princess Luna, but both are my Princesses.”
“Was?”
“Yes,” she shifted her head now, and I was met with muted displeasure. “Was. I’ve not been under her wing for three years now.”
“But you still wear the badge?” I broke her stare and briefly studied the silver that seemed to pin the purple robes to her chest.
“This is my Mark of Heavens. It was made for me at my birth, and does not signify rank somuchas proof,” as she touched a gentle hoof to the badge, I caught a longing in her cyan eyes.
“Proof of what? Are you royalty?”
“Proof that I was once hers.”
… She wasn’t giving me much, but though she seemed disinterested; she’d given no outright tells besides her shortness. Whether she wanted to or not however, I was bored and needed to run my mouth a bit after so much solitude in the wilderness.
“My name is Anon, nice to meet you.”
“Merope the Lesser. Nice to meet you as well.”
“Pretty name. Sounds familiar.”
I didn’t receive a reply. Rolling my glass of water about on the table in a tilt, I keep a sigh to myself. Hopefully she wasn’t feeling as awkward as I. I doubted it.
It wouldn’t be until Pinkie Pie came to the table to drop off my bread that I’d get the opportunity to speak again.
“Aaand here’s your bread, fresh and baked to perfect- omigosh! Anon!? You’re back in Ponyville!”
Here was a pony who enjoyed a good story. She was a favorite of mine. Somehow she’d always manage to track me down while I was in town, and sometimes while I wasn’t. Usually the first to sit down and listen to me boast, and always the last to leave once I was done. Oftentimes, when the night would quiet and the crowd I’d gathered up dispersed, she’d share some of her own stories with me.
“Can never stay away for long. Just returned from the Undiscovered West, though I’m not sure how long I’ll stay in town. Any new rumors you’ve heard of? Surely you’ve saved some for me, hm?”
Perhaps most enjoyable of all about Pinkie, was her endless knowledge of the world around her. She was so strange in that regard.
Pinkie followed my playful tone exactly, keeping me on my toes. “I dunno~, my friends and I might’ve gobbled them all up while you were gone.”
Ah, the dreaded confirmation I’ve come to expect.
It took me a few seconds to respond, “That’s just how it goes in Ponyville, it seems.”
Seemed Pinkie had caught that some of the wind had gone out of my sails, “aw, no need to be glum, chum! Equestria’s chock-full of neat stuff to find! But you’ll stick around here for a few days, right? Tell some stories?”
“I don’t see a reason not to. Afterall, I’d prefer having some level of direction on where to go next. Idle hooves will trot toward Tartarus, so I’ve been told.”
“Wellll~ why donch’ya ask Miss Merope here?”
… I’m really not surprised that Pinkie knows Merope; knowing ponies is kinda one of her things. Regardless, Pinkie had generously provided me the in for another bout of questioning.
“Well, Miss?”
Merope pursed her lips- an apparently rare display of visible emotion, if my encounter with her so far was any indication of her usual outwardly-projected personality. There would be a pregnant pause, before she’d finally, if tentatively, engage in the conversation.
“... What is it you seek, when you ask for ‘direction?’ “
I press my elbows to the oaken table, pushing my posture upwards. I wanted to capitalize on this progress Pinkie had pushed out of the Moon-Servant, fearful of letting the chance slip by, and having Merope retreat back into her shell. But even still, the question left me searching my own thoughts. Why?
“... I seek adventure, something I can say I was apart of… It doesn’t need to be grand- just,”
This shouldn’t be so hard a question to answer.
“just another thing to leave my mark on.”
Merope searched my eyes. Her own looked almost as if totally blind, yet, with the intensity of which they scanned me…
“Why?”
I was taken aback by the question. ‘Why?’ Again with the ‘why?!’ Was this so hard a concept to grasp? First that mare in Jamber, now here?
“Should I need reason more? I’ve traveled across the length of Equestria twice over at this point, rebounding on my trail many times. I seek it because I want to.”
Merope’s gaze only deepened, now marred with a thin glare. I hadn’t meant to sound defensive. I looked to Pinkie for her reaction, to see if the conversation had gone awry to all parties, yet she seemed… at peace? Maybe that wasn’t the right word, but her look certainly didn’t carry the nervousness of an introduction gone sour that I was admittedly expecting. What did she know that I didn’t?
Merope let my response hang in each other’s thoughts for a few moments, giving all creatures present some time to think upon their intention, before she’d speak again.
“A selfish need compels you, then.”
“Selfish insomuch that it is something I wish to achieve and continue to achieve for my own reasons, yes.”
Merope stared for a few moments longer, before softening her gaze, beginning to nod her head.
“Yes, yes you are right.”
… I didn’t like much to talk with those who speak in mystique and riddle.
“So, what, you were a soothsayer in Luna’s Court or something?”
Merope shook her head.
“I was Seliniakó Paladin, a discoverer- and vanquisher, of My Princesses’ lingering miasma.”
“Never heard of the title.”
“Your adventures kept you far from Canterlot Castle, and rarely did you travel where my cavalry went, then.”
Apt enough, I suppose… Though it may have been an insult.
“And what did your cavalry do?”
Merope cannot hold her smile back now, however slight it was. A faint giddyness from her gently brought me from my mounting bluntness. Good thing too, for I was ereing on the edge of rude sarcasm.
“Locate traces of Nightmare Moon’s madness, and purge it back into the ethereal.”
… I chanced another look at Pinkie, who now sat excitably peaceful at our tableside, actively passive in a way only she could be, seemingly feeling quite content with the gears she’d set in motion. My surprise quickly gave way to self-admonishment: Of course a pony as talkative as Pinkie Pie would know when conversation needed help, and when it needed silence. Matron of Sociability that she was, she stood sentinel, waiting patiently for her next opportunity to help push us along, if need be.
“Nightmare Moon? She’s been gone since Pinkie here and her friends found their Elements.”
Pinkie nodded, though her full attention was focused somewhere in the space between Merope and I.
“They saved My Princess, yes, but did not clean entirely the isolated darkness that remained after her return.”
I rested my head atop the bridge of loosely clasped hands. I was interested, admittedly, but still felt the sting of that simple, annoying question. Stubbornness dictate that I remain standoffish, even if it works against my favor.
“So her power still remains across the world?”
Merope closed her eyes, gently pushing her plate back and forth between her hooves on the table.
“In scant pockets, often weak and inert. Their purposes, individual and unique to each locale, are long forgotten, though that matters little. They’re there at all, and that is reason enough to pursue and rid of them. My Princess needs no remembrance of the corruption that once wracked her mind, and bade her misuse of the Night which follows clear rules.”
“... Rules?”
Merope lapsed from her quiet enjoyment, thinking of happier times.
“I could lecture you on the dogma of the celestial bodies and the purpose they must fulfill at the behest of My Princess, if you’d wish to hear. It is a subject kept close to my heart.”
“Do tell.”
She opens her mouth, but gives herself chance to collect her thoughts.
“Think to your mane. We’re creatures of habit, and often keep it styled a certain fashion,” Merope magicked a lock of her mane in telekinetic grip and bent it against its natural curve “keep it in such a way for so long, it will know to remain as such. Drastically changing its form…” The aura faded, and the hair fell back into its proper shape. “Will be met with resistance, if not utter refute. The Heavens operate in a similar manner: To move the Moon differently from how My Princess has nightly for thousands of years would be a much harder endeavour compared to the status quo- require much more force behind the push, so to say.” Merope clopped her hooves to the table, only to punctuate her point: “Now say My Princess seeks to move the Moon to the focal point of Heaven, the crest of the Firmament, and hang it there perpetually. Say she has withdrawn from her peers: Advisors, aides, Nobles, servants… even her own loving Sister. My Princess is no longer listening, and she is acting rashly with justifications that she will not share with any.”
“My Princess, in this case, is met with much more hardship than the strain of improperly guiding the Moon.”
