//------------------------------// // Forgotten Things // Story: The Should-Have-Been King // by defender2222 //------------------------------// “The world has changed… much that was once known is lost. For none now live who remember it.” -Galadriel Manehattan They were staring at him. Tydal wasn’t surprised by this. After all, he wasn’t a sight that was common at all. He towered over them, making even the largest of them look like kids. ‘Foals’ his mind whispered, remembering their words, their names and titles. He’d tried to learn much about the cultures of the other races but at times it was all too easy to forget it all. He had his own kingdom to run and such small things as remembering that ponies called females ‘mares’ were lost on him at times. It was why he had ambassadors and experts beside him during official meetings.  But even without his great size, both in height and strength, he would have draw their attention. His emerald scales ran along his flank where short fur would have been on them, none of the strange marks (‘Cutie marks… that Is what they called them… why I have no bloody idea as some of them aren’t cute at all’) to be seen. Their tails were long strands of hair which, at most, could be flicked at something that annoyed them but only if one had practice. His tail was made of muscle and scale, ending in the natural fan blade of his kind. If he swished at someone they would end up dead. It was known, or had been known, that to try and sneak up on a capricorn was to ask for death. Not that facing them head-on was any safer.  When a pony smiled one might merely grin back or blush if they were rather attractive. When a capricorn flashed their razor sharp teeth it was usually a warning: here is death and it can come for you at any moment. His kind had been built to survive the harsh depths of the ocean and the wilds of the forested lands. And yet here he was, walking down the strange avenues of what ponies now called home. He slowly made his way along the hard streets, his hooves clicking against the ground. Some gawked and saw him little more as something to stare at, like a traveling freakshow that had pulled into some dusty town offering the simple folk a chance to stare at the oddity at the cost of a few bits. Others feared him, pushing their foals behind them and praying to their princesses for protection. A part of him, small and bitter, salivated at the taste of their fear and welcomed it; if they could not love him and cheer his name let the masses fear him and cower. It was their tribute to him and as the apex predator he savored it like a fine wine. But where youth might have led others to abuse such feelings his many long years left him tapping down such desires with a rumbling sigh. A few turned their fear to anger and stepped forward, ready to challenge him. For what crime brought their hatred he did not know nor did he care. He merely watched as they stomped the ground and snorted hard, deep rumbles issuing through their throats. The old capricorn merely turned and stared at them, his dark slit eyes, so different from their own, narrowing slightly as he rolled his shoulders. It might have been amusing to another to see little ponies be so bold when, to him, they just looked so… small. Delicate. Like little bunny rabbits trying to fight a lion. “Do it,” he whispered, his voice like thunder even in the quietest of tones, rumbling like a storm just beyond a sea’s horizon. It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t a challenge. It may have been a hopeful cry, begging one to step forward and actually do what they dreamed of. To try for the brass ring, to claim their place in the annuls of history. He could respect that, understand that. Such actions would make sense for the King thrust into this strange time. He looked at each of them and wondered if he would find in their huddled masses one that was willing to actually challenge him. One worthy to place their name alongside those from the Lost Age. And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, they retreated into the crowd. The safety of the herd. He read it on their faces, the half-made threats that they themselves didn’t believe. ‘You’re lucky’. ‘I’ll let you live this time’. ‘Next time will be different’. The God of the Sea lowered his head and sighed. “Cowards,” he muttered, and though none of them would have been able to explain it, had they been pressed, every pony that heard it suddenly felt a welling of great shame. They all still looked at him, waiting. They would not challenge him and they wouldn’t flee from him. All they would do was wait, forcing him to keep making the next move, over and over again. His jaw worked and from the corner of his eye he could see them flinching. They were skittish, like birds that spotted a bit of bread next to a sleep cat. He shut his eyes for a moment, gathering himself, before he began to walk again. Their stares never left him though, their gazes hard and yet somehow scratchy, making his gray fur feel like it had become covered in lice. He let out a snort and several of them yelped at that, sure he was preparing to attack them. A part of him wanted to, actually. The warrior in him remember well the pony race and it was aghast that they dared to look at him as such. In his time they would have averted their eyes and hurried away, showing him the respect he was due. “But this isn’t my time, is it?” he muttered to himself. Tydal heard several of them murmur, wondering if it was a curse or a warning that hung in the air, and he found his annoyance grow all the more. “No, that much is clear. My time is long gone, like so many that once dwelled in these lands.” He shook his head in disgust. “And in our absence you have rebuilt this world as your own. Razed it and forged something new on the bones of what once was already perfect. Though… I suppose you don’t realize that, do you?” He whipped around, ignoring the cries of fright his audience gave as he held his head up high, his voice growing firmer. “Oh no… you never bother to think about that, do you? No time for that, not in your busy little lives. No time to think of the past, of what came before. Too much to do, too much to see. Busy, busy busy!” With each word his back hooves clicked against the ground. “Never considering all those who have passed on, whose great works and wondrous deeds made it possible for you to live as you do. Do you… do you even think of them? Consider who came before… made you able to have such wonders?” He violently shook his head, as if fighting off an invisible force. “NO! Of course you don’t! You take for granted all these splendid things that make up your lives! That is too much trouble… or there isn’t enough time.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Time…” He spat the word out like a curse. He looked at the skyscraper, the great structures of Manehattan that brought so many into the city’s embrace, a sign of the city’s strength and standing and found himself wanting to tear it all down, brick by brick. He wanted to smash his back into the straight strong walls, scar the bricks with a swish of his mighty tail, and rip the keystone out with his teeth. He wanted to topple it all and stomp on the rubble until it was turned to a fine dust. He wanted to show them all the power of the Lost Ages, of HIS age, and show them that for all they had done there was still strength, still power. He could do it too; he SHOULD do it… “I remember this place,” Tydal said, none of his internal struggles visible to those that watched; if they knew just what dark thoughts whispered in his head the ponies would have died in fright right there on the sidewalks. “This was not your city back then. That would have been too audacious of you. Too daring. Not on this continient. I wonder… I wonder if the years have granted you the backbones that you lacked. Or is it that you simply have faced nothing that truly demands courage?” He tapped the street with his hoof. “I remember this path… like an old friend whose face I can see in my waking dreams.” He turned and pointed to where a small theater, the patrons that had been inside drawn out to see the capricorn that was all the more interesting than the performance going on inside. “There was a brook over there. Yes… with the sweetest water you’d ever tasted. It was always cold but even in the winter you would suffer through that because nothing could quite quench your thirst. “And there… there was grove of trees, with two that had stood side by side for so long that they’re branches had become knotted together. As if they had gone from two… to one! Nothing could bring them down, nothing at all. Not wind or rain or fury of a storm. How did they fall? How?” He looked about, seeking an answer that would never come. “Was it age? Did the years go by and leave them rotted and hollow until they collapsed, one dragging down the other?” His jaw clenched and his eyes flashed and a rage filled him, so hot that nothing could cool it. “Or was it you? You and your kind? Did you come here and hack them down because they were in your way? Snap their branches? Chop down the trunk! Tear the roots from the ground itself! Perhaps they offended you and you took axes to their bark and burned their branches and used their trunks to build your homes!” The crowd was frightened but found themselves unable to move or leave. It was as if some spell had been placed on them, locking them where they stood and forcing them to stand as witnesses as the capricorn ranted. “And there, down that street, there was beach of dark sand and dirt. The waves would lap and when you laid in the grass you felt as if you could hear all of creation at once! What did you do to that, I wonder? How did you destroy that!?” He twisted around, demanding answers, but not had them to give; only the dead knew those tales.  “I knew this land so well, and the waters beyond it! I knew them… I knew them as if they were my family!” The moment he said the word his face crumbled. His eyes were wide, his mouth opened and chin trembling as his breath came out in harsh gasps. Tears gathered in his eyes, which burned worse than he’d ever felt before and Tydal found himself unable to stop the tremors that had been threatening to overtake him from the moment he’d entered the city. “My family… oh… oh…” He collapsed, great racking sobs thundering across his body. He did not bellow. He did not throw his head skyward and roar into the sky. No… it was small sounds, like the squeaked of a mouse, came from his throat and the ponies that watched him found themselves shocked that such little noises could come from one so large. He laid on the ground and wept, the faces of his wife and daughters swirling through his mind. Several ponies moved towards him, swallowing their fear as they approached the weeping sea god, unsure of what they would do when they came within striking distance. But they couldn’t be stopped… not in the face of such pain, even if it came from one so different from them. “Get away from him!” The ponies leapt back, looking around in a panic before their eyes rose skyward. Descending like angels from the Heavens the Princesses Celestia and Luna looked upon their subjects and for once it was not gazes of love or understanding that shone in their eyes. Instead a fierce desire roared in their hearts as the sisters, the alicorns of day and night, spread their wings upon landing  in an attempt to shield the old warrior that wept in the street. “Leave him alone!” Luna screamed, daring them to take a step closer. “Stay back!” Her own eyes were red with tears and her body trembled nearly as badly as Tydal’s. “Go back to your homes,” Celestia said sternly, more in control of her emotions than her sister. “Let not a word of what you have seen pass through your lips. This is not for your gossip or entertainment. If you make this scene into a jest know that I will treat it as an insult upon myself and my realm and will respond in kind!” The crowd dispersed quickly at that and within minutes the busiest city in Equestria found its streets had been emptied, leaving only the sisters to serve as witness to the capricorn’s breakdown. “Oh father…” Celestia whispered as Tydal trembled. Luna nuzzled the old goat’s cheek but he could not find the will to fight through the tremors or the sobs. The once cloudless skies  joined him and wept their own tears, drenching the princesses as the storm rolled in. They had tried to catch him, to stop him, but moments after leaving the Gate Tydal had fled, overwhelmed by his return to the world of the living. Celestia and Luna had hoped to catch him, to protect him from the emotional backlash they had feared would come… and now found themselves too late to stop. “Sister,” Luna whispered. She had laid down beside her father, resting his head upon her forelegs and bringing her head to lay upon his. He had comforted her much the same way when she was small and now the desire to protect this old warrior, this king of a forgotten age, the being who had raised her and her sister as if they were his own… it swelled in her, threatening to consume her. In a quiet voice she asked,  “What do we do now?” Celestia swallowed, refusing to give up her protective stance. There was but one answer.  “We need to find The Abundance.”