//------------------------------//
// The Colt In the High Castle 
// Story: House of Gold 
// by redsquirrel456 
//------------------------------//

Orion never felt smaller than when he stood next to Celestia, especially outside in the Manor’s gardens. She deliberately slowed her gait to a near-crawl so he could keep up, and even then he struggled. Then again, he struggled to do anything besides eat and sleep these days.
 
“You do not need to do anything, Orion,” Celestia told him, her voice quiet and dulcet.
 
“I know,” he said, head hung low and ears folded back.
 
“It is an invitation, not an order. But you would be as well cared for as you are here.”
 
“Yeah.”
 
“You may begin your education in earnest. Perhaps you will even find your cutie mark with a fresh start.”
 
“I don’t want a fresh start.”
 
Celestia’s hoofsteps ceased. He looked up and saw her staring across the manor’s grounds, over the manicured bushes and clean swept pathways.
 
All around the Princess life was more lively. Birds chirped and swooped, happy just to be near her. The plants appeared more green and the sky more blue, and the distant splashing of a fountain had a happy tinkle to it. The whole world danced in her presence.
 
She closed her eyes and spread out one great wing, lowering its tip to the ground.
 
The birds retreated. Colors grew paler. The leaves ceased their rustling and the fountain gurgled instead of sang. The whole world cleared its throat and looked away.
 
“Come,” she said. “Let us sit in the shade.”
 
She sat with the grace of angels beneath the canopy of a large oak tree, every movement precise and gentle, every curve and contour smooth and immaculate. Orion felt awkward just being near her. Every muscle in his body lost its strength at once and he flopped, chin to the earth, close enough to see the little bugs that crawled on it. Everything crawling along next to him, around him, past him.
 
“What is it that you fear, Orion?”
 
“I dunno,” said Orion, shrugging.
 
Celestia stared straight ahead at a stand of rose bushes not far away. “Do you think that leaving this place would leave you all alone?”
 
“Maybe,” said Orion.
 
“Do you fear that ponies would be disappointed in you if you gave up on your old home?”
 
Orion scuffed the grass with his hoof. It felt stiff and uncomfortable.
 
“That you would be disappointed in yourself?”
 
Orion choked back a sob.
 
“Ah,” Celestia said, like her voice held a delicate vase she was afraid of dropping. “That is it.”
 
Orion sniffled as the Princess’ wing descended on him like a blanket made of feathers and well wishes.
 
“Dear child,” Celestia said, “There is nothing to be ashamed of here. You have failed nopony.”
 
Orion’s lip trembled. An awful clawing feeling reached up from a deep pit in his stomach. It felt like a gash opening inside him, and something worse than blood leaked from it.
 
“But she’s dead,” he squeaked, curling up as tight as he could. He tried to stop the words from coming, but of course that was impossible. Words find a way to be said even when you don’t want them to. “She’s dead and I didn’t… I didn’t even get the chance to save her, and I wanted to, I wanted to so much, but… but I didn’t even get the chance!”
 
He slapped the ground with both hooves, letting out a short, shrill sound. “I hate it!” he said. “I hate everything! I wish none of it had happened! I don’t deserve this! Mama didn’t deserve it! And Father just sits there and talks and drinks and eats and nothing ever happens in this stupid, stupid house!”
 
He beat the earth again and bawled into the grass. His body felt like it was too small, his skin too tight and his muscles too slack. He wanted to get up and run, to flail and move so he could remember where his legs were, but he knew there was nowhere to go but to clean, holy Canterlot, where ponies lived in great ivory towers and all the things he wanted would suddenly be in reach a lifetime too late.
 
Celestia’s wing tightened, drawing him to her chest. He resisted at first, but then fell into her embrace, into the fur coat so soft that even his red, snotty nose and itchy, salty eyes felt comfortable. She smelled of peonies and roses, of dew brushed away by sunlight, leaving the air clean and fresh. Orion curled up in the blanket of her hooves and wings and her wide, warm neck, muffling and choking his sadness with the cushion of the Princess.
 
In fits and starts, he felt the writhing snake inside him go still, and his bawling became whimpers, and then those fell to silence as he considered how much of a mess he just made.
 
“I’m sorry,” he hiccuped. “I should’ve got my kerchief.”
 
“It is nothing, Orion,” Celestia said, her voice magnanimous and resonant. “You have been waiting to do that for a long time.”
 
Orion nodded, taking a deep breath full of phlegm and misery. “I cried at the funeral, but this was different,” he said. “It hurt a lot more.”
 
“It may happen again,” Celestia said, “and it will hurt just as much. But gradually, day by day, it will hurt a little less. This kind of sadness steals upon you like a thief in the night. But do not be afraid of it. It is a reminder of how much we have loved, and can love again.”
 
Her wing curled around him, and a long, narrow feather pushed his chin upward. He looked up into eyes that saw beyond a world made of the fleeting flicker-lives of small ponies. The gaze that filled him with awe and fear stretched ten thousand thousand years into the past, down a long thin line of ponies just like Mother paving the road from now to the vanishing point of eternity.
 
“I know this pain called loss,” she murmured quietly. “I have encountered it time and time again, until I became more acquainted with it than anypony should be. I have learned only this: it is not an enemy to be beaten. It is part of you now, and denying it will only make it worse. This is a wound that must be embraced if it is to heal.”
 
“Embraced?” Orion asked, sniffling. “How?”
 
“Come with me, and I will teach you. There is so much I believe you can accomplish, Orion. In Canterlot, I think you will find the path to your destiny, and do many wonders. As many as your dear mother knew you could, and more.”
 
Orion’s ears perked. “More?”
 
Celestia placed the tip of her wing over his lips. It felt like the brush of a cloud. “We will not know until we get there, will we?” she said quietly. “For now you must make a decision, little one. You must decide if you will come to Canterlot. I know what your father said. I know that he has… encouraged your departure in his own way. But the decision is yours. It must only ever be yours.”
 
Orion hid his face against her chest again, but he did not feel hidden. The mansion stretched over them even this far into the gardens, and its windows were like eyes. If he looked very, very closely, Orion saw Father standing at the window to his study, white fur standing out amidst the gloom, his body drawn in stiff, unmoving lines, his magical grip on his wine slipping now and then in the throes of intemperance. What must it be like, all alone up there in his musty tower, hoping to shoo away bad memories like a kitchenmaid shooed rats with a broom? He would have seen them walk all the way from the doors to the lines of lilacs and orchids in the back. What did he hope Orion would do? Did he hope for anything for his son anymore? Orion only knew he did not have the courage to ask. There were so many questions Orion was too terrified to know the answer to, and almost all of them concerning his father.
 
His father who set this whole thing up. His father who kept a chair open for Mother at the table, like she would just hop out of bed one day fit as a fiddle. His father who walked like a ghost in the only house Orion had ever known. His father who hid himself away.
 
The house seemed to wait with bated breath. The odd angles and mismatched nature of it gave it a slouch. It seemed dark and dreary from out here, in the sunlight. He felt no kinship with it anymore. Did the Blueblood estate always look so cold, so dry and miserable?
 
He did not know if Canterlot would make him happy. But he knew he wanted to be away from this place. He knew Mother was not here anymore. He knew his father wanted him gone.
 
“... I’ll go,” Orion said, his voice flat and clear and simple. “I want to go with you.”
 
“Are you sure—”
 
“I am.”
 
Celestia considered him for a very long moment. The only thing on earth that moved was her head, as she relented with a single, slow nod.
 
“Very well.”
 



 
Leaving was much the same as staying. Orion collected bags, watched rooms empty out, watched ponies file in and out of his living space bearing a train of his effects. Father directed most of it, and Orion noticed that quite a lot was going to Canterlot. Most of his clothes, his chests of toys he never played with anymore, and many of his books. Nothing else was truly his, all of it bought and paid for by previous generations of his family. The house would be scrubbed clean of the House of Blueblood’s youngest son.
 
But before that, he had to be clean of all he once knew. He had goodbyes to give. He wandered the halls of the house and said farewell to all the serving staff, whether he knew them or not. They were never very close, but they were the only ponies he had for company when Father wasn’t having a big together.
 
He found Dusty Pages in the solar where they once studied together. She sat hunched over some old papers, handling them with meticulous care. He gently knocked on the door and she gasped, quickly shuffling the papers away from his gaze.
 
“Dusty?” he asked. “I have to go.”
 
“I know,” she said, her voice as fragile as her books. “You will be well cared for. The Princess can give you everything. But you must remember to be worthy of it. All the heroes we read about didn’t get everything on a silver platter, did they?”
 
Orion nodded sadly. “I think I’m worthy of it,” he said. “I’m tired of waiting to be happy. I think going to Canterlot will finally make that happen. The Princess seems willing to help me. Maybe I’ll get to be a Prince.”
 
Dusty walked over to him, stroked his ear. “Well. You just remember to always be in accordance with what Her Majesty desires, little nip.”
 
“Yes, of course.”
 
“You must do as she tells you and never go anywhere you aren’t allowed.”
 
“Of course I won’t.”
 
“And you must…”
 
Dusty Pages wiped her hoof over her eyes, attempting to hide it by fussing with her mane, but Orion caught it easily.
 
“You must make sure that even though you’re going a very long way away, you don’t forget where you came from. You don’t forget this house, or the ponies who gave birth to you. I’ve done a lot to try and teach you history, little nip, and that it’s very important not to forget it. All right?”
 
Orion responded by giving her a hug, which she returned. She smelled of old paper, and was almost as warm as the Princess. They stood up together and looked around the solar one last time. It was cleaned out of most everything, as most everything Orion wanted or needed had already been removed to Canterlot.
 
“Will we ever see each other again?” Orion wondered, because Dusty Pages had been, if not a mother to him, then at least as constant in his life as one.
 
Dusty smiled and patted him on the head. “If we don’t, little nip… look me up in the history books.”
 
When he left Dusty, he had a deep knot in the pit of his stomach which only got worse. There was yet one more farewell to say. He trudged down the long hallways, past Mother’s room which stood with its door open and its furniture utterly untouched, all the way to the Duke’s study. The Duke had not left his room at all save to direct Orion’s packing, and Orion expected to find him deep in a bottle of wine.
 
Instead he found him deep in thought, staring at a fireplace that was only embers. A glass of champagne hovered in his magic, but it was untouched. Orion cleared his throat, and the Duke turned abruptly. They stared at each other in silence. The atmosphere of the room was ice cold, thick and slow.
 
“I’m going now, Father.”
 
“Yes. It’s about that time, isn’t it?” His voice was rough as sandpaper.
 
Orion licked his lips. The Duke swirled his champagne.
 
“It will be a while before I come back,” Orion said.
 
The Duke nodded slowly. “Quite some time.”
 
“All right. We will write each other if we get the time.”
 
“Indeed.”
 
They hugged, briefly, and then Orion left. He did not remember what his father’s hold felt like.
 
The knot in his stomach made it almost impossible to eat or sleep, and he woke up on moving day tired and bleary-eyed. He had one last sparse breakfast at the table, and took it alone. Nopony lined up to see him out the door, but there were chaperones to see him to his carriage. They wore resplendent, bright clothing that seemed audacious on the moody, somber grounds of the Manor. The cutie mark of Celestia blazed bright on the side of the carriage.
 
Orion ran to them without looking back.
 



 
Canterlot towered over everything. For miles in any direction a pony saw it, silhouetted against the horizon. From afar it was a landmark, albeit a beautiful one. As the train grew closer to the base of the mountain Canterlot perched on like a majestic bird, it became less a landmark and more a monolith from a distant age. The lonely mountain holding up the city sprouted like the arm of a Titan thrusting the city toward the sky, where its golden towers caught the light of the Sun. Other towers sprouted from the largest ones like branches of a tree, ivory and resplendent. Waterfalls streamed down from on high, crashing on the rocks as though to remind them of their place. The city was a bold rebuke to the laws of nature and physics—to show mastery of ponykind over all the world. A city on the edge of a mountain, where jealous eyes might wish it would fall. But it never did, and never would, and the world simply had to accept that.
 
Orion saw the Sun disappear behind the mountain face as they passed into its shadow. Now the city loomed over him like the mansion back home. There was no escape from it, no way not to notice it. A pony either had it in front of them or behind them at all times.
 
Orion shrank away from the train window and curled up in his seat, staring dimly at the chaperones surrounding him. Through the whole trip they’d barely shared a word between them, and fewer with Orion, and only ever in hushed whispers. As if speaking too loudly might shatter him. Orion thought that wasn’t far from the truth.
 
That was, in part, why he scooted a little closer to the mare on his left, a beautiful and kindly young unicorn with a light purple coat and rich red mane, dressed in stately robes.
 
“Um,” he said.
 
She smiled down at him in a manner reminiscent of Celestia. “Yes, young master?”
 
“Am I going to have my own room?”
 
“Yes, young master.”
 
“Will it be big?”
 
“Most assuredly. All the rooms in Canterlot are big. You are being taken under the wing of Princess Celestia herself, and she absolutely does not like feeling cramped.”
 
Orion wrinkled his nose and peered back up at the city.
 
“I would like to have a room with a window. One that looks west.”
 
“Certainly, young master. Do you enjoy sunsets?”
 
“Not especially,” Orion said. “But my mother did.”
 
The rest of the ride was silent.
 
They took a carriage up the mountain, and if it weren’t for how wide and well traveled the road was, Orion would feel very frightened by how high they went. Could the city really remain perched like this forever? Was the Princess’ power so great?
 
Then they reached the gate, and all doubts fled his mind.
 
The drawbridge yawned open to receive them. Ponies trickled in and out in an endless stream beneath the vast arch of the gatehouse, patrolled by royal guards in shining golden armor. They stood like statues as the carriage bounced past, welcoming Orion, or at least the cutie mark of Celestia, with a loud stomp of their spears on the ground.
 
Orion heard a rush of noise like the buzzing of bees, which grew to almost a roar, and he realized it was the voice of ponies. Ponies swarming the streets, crowding the walkways, more ponies than he had ever seen in his life, more than he thought possible to exist in a single space.
 
Then the city swallowed him. It sprawled and crowded all at once. The roads wound like a snake and ran down huge open boulevards. White buildings, white streets, brilliant gold roofs and royal purple stone loomed like giants, peering off to the horizon far above his head. Manes and fur coats of every stripe and color surged around him like a tide. It passed him in a blur too fast to see, too layered with life and meaning. It felt like a neverending explosion after the dreary doldrums his life had been, and it overwhelmed and terrified and amazed him all at once.
 
He kept his face glued to the window of the carriage, his wide open eyes drinking it in. The chauffeurs seemed amused and endeared, and the mare he spoke to on the train leaned over his head.
 
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
 
“... I don’t know,” Orion said. “I’ve never seen another city like this one.”
 
“There are no cities like Canterlot, because there are are no rulers like Celestia.”
 
Orion gulped. “Am I really going to live with her?”
 
“As near as one can. She will provide for your tutelage from now on, and take a personal hoof in your development, young master.”
 
“Whoa.”
 
“Whoa, indeed.”
 
“Oh, I forgot to ask.” Orion looked straight up at her chin. “What’s your name?”
 
“Lily Garland, young master.”
 
“That’s a pretty name.”
 
“Thank you.”
 
They approached the Palace District. Here the architecture was more refined, but no less extravagant. Towers and crenellations soared, and every surface was artfully and tastefully decorated, gilded with gold, or covered in expensive and colorful tile. The grass itself shone like emeralds.
 
“Lily, why did the Princess choose me?”
 
“Do you think she should not have?”
 
Orion bit his lip. “I think I should be here. But… I dunno.”
 
Lily’s head tilted thoughtfully. “Many ponies are confused by the actions of the Princess. But she has been alive longer than most of us can imagine. She has seen things we would not believe. If she came to you, I think it is because she sees something inside you nopony else can.”
 
Orion put a hoof on his chest. All he felt was the beat of his heart and the rise and fall of his lungs. But if the Princess said that was special… well, who was he to say no?
 
“We will be arriving at the castle soon,” said Lily. “Feel free to explore while we unpack.”
 
Orion shook his head. “I have a lot of stuff, but I can carry it. I’m not that amazing. I had a ton of servants back home, but I didn’t know their names or jobs or anything. I’m tired of ponies knowing more about everything than I do. I wanna know more stuff than anypony else. That’s why I wanted to go on airships. I wanna find things.”
 
“The Princess will be interested to know that.”
 
Orion asked why, but she only replied with a strange little smile.
 



 
If the city was awe-inspiring, the castle made him weak in the knees.
 
The Throne Quarter, as it was called, was the place Celestia herself resided, and was without a doubt the true center of Equestria. It was not a single building but an enormous complex of many, joined together by arching bridges, soaring minarets, and onion dome towers. Tapestries of every shape and color were draped over pristine white walls. Pillars run through with mauve and lavender minerals held up balconies that had overlooked thousands of ponies across a thousand years of rule.
 
The carriage came to a stop in front of an aquamarine door standing ajar. It seemed to yawn like a lion, ready to swallow him whole. A tongue of red velvet carpet led up the stairway inside, and a platoon of Royal Guards guarded every angle. True to his word, Orion helped the chauffeurs remove his bags from the carriage, but his eyes never sat still. He drank in everything: the vases, the banners, the flooring. The main hall seemed to be larger than the whole world.
 
And at the top of another stairway, in the middle of a mezzanine splitting off to yet more stairs to places who-knew-where, was Princess Celestia.
 
“Young master Blueblood,” she said, smiling. “Welcome to Canterlot.”
 
Orion’s mouth was dry. His mind was blank. His knees shook as he collapsed to the carpet on the floor. In an instant Celestia was before him, lifting him in her magic to his hooves.
 
“None of that anymore,” she said kindly. “You are part of the castle now. I never command anypony to kneel to me.”
 
“I’m nervous,” said Orion.
 
Celestia’s smile quirked into something teasing. “I find movement often helps with that.”
 
They walked together, deeper into the castle. Every hallway was immaculately polished. Every surface scrubbed to a shine.
 
Not a single speck of dirt anywhere.
 
“What’s going to happen now?” asked Orion.
 
“Now you will be shown to your room. I find that is a very good place to start. In the morning, your classes can begin, unless you would like a few days to settle.”
 
“I like settling.”
 
Celestia giggled. It was not a sound Orion ever expected to hear from the Princess, and it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard. “So do I, my little pony,” she said, her voice lilting like a feather on the wind. “So do I.”
 
He asked many questions about the castle as they walked, because every hallway brought new sights and sounds and colors. Here was the entrance to the royal archives, guarded at all times by stern-faced soldiers. There was a thirteen hundred year old bust of St. Trotilde, wife of King Cloven who spread friendship and harmony to all the western territories. All around him whispered hints of history and myth come to life, and Orion gradually felt his heart warm to it. Here great ponies had lived and died. Here greatness had been made.
 
Here he too would become a great pony.
 
“Ah!” Celestia said all too soon. “Here is your room.”
 
It was only then that Orion realized how lucky he was.
 
He had expected a neo-classical bent to the architecture, with dark wood and drab curtains making up most of the furnishing with gilded knick-knacks to provide an air of wealth and culture. It was how Blueblood manor had been furnished, and he had thought that was the height of Equestrian excess.
 
Instead, well...
 
“That’s a lot of pink,” he said.
 
“We can change it if you like,” Celestia said, only now betraying a hint of concern.
 
“No,” he said, walking into the room and spinning around. There was indeed a lot of pink. The domed ceiling was covered in it, like the top of a cupcake. A chest in one corner was painted pink. Some of the drawers on the vanity and bedside table had pink highlights. The bed had pink pillows, and its seams almost burst with fluffy feather down. None of it had the pompous, overwrought look of his old house. Everything was curved, comfy, soft and billowy like a cloud. It felt like being thrown into the illustration of a foal’s fairy tale book. “It’s fine. It reminds me of cake frosting. And the curtains… are they silk?”
 
“Somnia spider silk, actually.” Celestia fluffed her wings. “They make no sound when fluttering in the breeze. Very useful when you would like a draft on warm summer nights. But this space is yours now, Orion. Anything you wish to add or take away is yours to do so.”
 
Orion ran his hoof over the bookshelf, and the small vanity. They were not pink, but a fashionable snow white like his own coat. Plenty of space for his collection of tomes he had taken from home.
 
“There are of course some restrictions. This space is yours, but the rest of the castle remains the property of Equestria,” Celestia said as Orion traveled to and fro, checking every little nook and cranny, burying his face into the bed’s pillows. “Certain wings of the castle will be off-limits at certain times of the day. The state department only takes visitors through their guided tours, the library—which I assure you you will be seeing more of—has a strict off-limits policy to certain wings. The kitchens prefer to be left to their own devices; the poor dears are often quite busy, especially with foreign visits coming more often than they used to…”
 
She trailed off when Orion made it to the window, which looked down over the massive palace gardens. She followed him and stood over his shoulder, trying to see what he could see.
 
“What about down there?” he asked. “It’s practically a forest all its own.”
 
“Ah, yes. The gardens. It includes much of the surrounding mountain’s terrain. Those are free for all to enjoy, whenever they have need of them. Solace, peace and quiet, privacy… there are enchantments to dull noise from outside in certain areas. I myself take advantage of it from time to time. Gardeners with green hooves, sculptors whose work didn’t fit inside the castle, all have added their genius to its beauty over the centuries. A lot of Equestria’s state budget goes to its upkeep, you know. I think down there, you can spot some of the sculptures showcased by good old Hammer Hoof from his glory days...”
 
“What’s that one?”
 
“Which one, dear?”
 
“That weird looking one.”
 
“Oh,” Celestia said, shortly. “That’s just a draconequus. It was a gift in poor taste.”
 
His gaze went to the palace labyrinth, marked by streaming banners and tall sentinel-like hedges. It stretched far beyond the boundaries of the garden, out past the manicured flowers and trees and into the wild countryside. Doubtless on the edges one felt the cold of the mountain.
 
“And that?”
 
Celestia chuckled indulgently. “A frivolity that grew into a preposterous monster of its own making. Four hundred years old and it only got bigger. When I had it commissioned, it was part of a ploy by Lord Chalk Tip to woo Lady Umber Mane. They both were lost for three hours before he found her and they proposed. I feared the mood was ruined, but they enjoyed it so much, well… I might have embellished it with a few touches of my own.”
 
“More than a few,” Orion said, impressed by its vastness. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it had no right to fit on the castle grounds, or anywhere near Canterlot at all.
 
“It must be magic,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Ponies would have to work day and night keeping the overgrowth from choking every inch of it.”
 
“In fact,” Celestia said, her voice strangely resonant and echoing, “there is quite a lot of magic in that labyrinth. Ponies have wandered it for centuries. Some have left their mark in more ways than misplaced cufflinks and forgotten jackets.”
 
Orion took a deep breath, feeling the old sense of history that rolled off Celestia blanket him again. He pressed his hooves up against the window, and his breath fogged around his nose. It only just now began to hit him that he was here. Really here, in Canterlot.
 
The heart of Equestria. The seat of power and the fulcrum upon which the world turned. The place where the rule of the Princess began, and perhaps where a Prince might find his own beginning.
 
A place just loud and big enough to drown out the awful silence of the grey days back home.
 
“I think I’m going to like it here,” he sighed wistfully.
 
“Perhaps,” Celestia said, her voice lilting with a sing-song tune, “you might feel differently as I turn our talk to your education.”
 
Orion blew the tip of his mane out of his eyes. “Of course. Halfway across the country I still run back into the clutches of dreaded school.”
 
“Oh,” said Celestia, “I think you’ll like mine.”