Through the thick, suffocating fog on the sea’s surface, an old ship drifted through the waters. The wooden boards that hung to the ship’s frame barely managed to stay attached after the many conflicts that it had just been through. The steel and iron used for its frame and more important things were rust filled carcasses of their former selves, much like the only inhabitant on board at the moment. The flag that the ship wore was pure black with no insignia in sight. The only thing that the ship reeked of was death, causing most life to stay away.
The agonizing silence was executed when the sound of hoof steps crept its way down the stairs to the captain’s quarters. The captain’s quarters itself was the only room that managed to stand the test of time, but only barely. The wallpaper that once decorated the room was peeling off the wooden surface. The only things of value that were still intact was the silverware, which was splayed out for the longest time.
“Ah…It feels so good to be back on the Hydra...” Jolly sighed with relief as he calmly trotted his way through his ship. His ship, known to many who sailed the ocean as the Dead Hydra, creaked and groaned in response to him, as if it were alive. “It is good to see you as well, me old friend,” Jolly said with a smile as he walked towards the mirror.
As he approached the mirror, a few thoughts rolled around in his old head. Would the Trident still be there? Was he right in doing this? Would Honey have wanted this? No, he would have to think it through more thoroughly when he got everything ready. He looked into the mirror, wishing for his old self to remain in the reflection. How he dreamed of seeing two eyes in his sockets, how he hoped to see skin on his face after so long. But, what stood there was just the hollow husk of a stallion who should have been long since dead. With a frown on his lipless lips, he turned and slowly hobbled his way to his desk.
Walking along the edge of his desk, he looked out towards the large window for a small bit, almost entranced by sheer nothing before he turned back to the desk. Coming to a stop at the spot where he would sit, his horn glowed a pale blue colour, the handle of the small bottom left drawer also lighting up and pulling open. There, among the old journals and books, lay a small, heart shaped locket made of silver with golden lines across its surface. Jolly looked upon the locket with fascination.
“...After all these years…” He whispered softly, his voice echoing all throughout the room, “...ye still be here for daddy to find…”
As he looked at the locket, water began to come up through the cracks of the floorboards, forming a tendril of foul tasting liquid that slowly rose up into the air and descended down, carefully taking the silver locket and bringing it forward to the skeleton’s face.
“...I thought I had lost you,” he commented, another tendril slowly rising out of the floor and opening the locket with precision and care.
On one side of the locket was the expertly crafted form of a small music box, the small notes playing a tune that to anyone else would sound like a first attempt in the art, but to Jolly, it was a thing of beauty. On the other side was a picture of three ponies. One was a young unicorn stallion with a brown mane and tail, small signs of growing facial hair present. He wore a blue navel jacket, with white stripes going down the edges, hiding his olive coat.
Beside him stood the most beautiful mare Jolly had ever seen, her golden locks of a mane were long and slightly curly, the dark orange of her coat still looked stunning after all these years, the sparkle in her light green eyes would still make his heart flutter. She was pure bliss for the eyes, she was gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh…and he loved her.
The last one in the picture was held in the stallion’s magic, wrapped in a clean white blanket lay the sleeping form of a baby filly. Her little golden body tucked into the blanket as she slept soundly, her white mane covering one half of her face. Even though he couldn’t see it, he could still remember her adorable brown eyes...remember the feeling of being told that his baby filly wouldn’t live past two years of age.
It was at this time that he really wanted to be alive again, to feel again...if not to feel the wind on his face, to be able to hold food in his mouth without it falling through him, forcing him to starve but not die. If not to finally taste the sweet taste of apple cider without it turning to dust on his tongue...then it was to cry. He wanted to cry so much, he wanted to feel the tears fall down his face. But, he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how sad he would get locked up inside that damnable flag...no tears would escape him.
Was it his fault that he became this...thing? This monster? He didn’t know, but, when he looked down onto the picture of the family, he knew that he wasn’t a monster...at least back then. “...It’s May the 8th…” he said quietly, his eye looking at the little filly. “...Happy birthday, Hope...D-daddy loves you.”
As he looked at the picture, sighing a bit as he reached out to it with a hoof and hoping that in some fake future he’d be able to see them again, the music on the locket stopped. With a choking, tearless and emotionless sob, he closed it slowly...and then reopened it, listening to the simple tune again, never taking his eye off of his family.