//------------------------------// // Chapter 13 // Story: Prim Rose's Redemption // by Hope //------------------------------// Prim was in the middle of a brief meal when one of the servants ran into her room, breathless. “The princess… She is asking for thee.” Prim galloped after him, and was quickly led into Princess Luna’s chambers. They were dark, every shade drawn, and not a single pony within besides the princess. The doors were closed behind her, and Princess Luna raised reddened eyes and a tear streaked face to look at Prim, who was frozen at the door. Prim hadn’t even thought of how Princess Luna would be coping with the tragedy. She’d only been thinking of herself and the ponies around her. “Princess Luna?” Prim said softly, stepping closer. “Tell me it was all a nightmare,” Luna croaked, fresh tears matting the coat of her cheeks. “Please, Prim, tell me my sister is still here.” Prim had never heard Princess Luna speak without the royal plural, or so emotionally, so desperate. She walked closer, until she was standing over the fallen princess, who had cornered herself where her bed met the wall. Prim hesitated for a moment, before she sat and carefully took Luna’s head in her grasp, embracing her. Luna’s sobs shook both their bodies, until Prim was crying with her. “I didn’t mean to do it!” Luna wailed. “I did not mean to leave such a burden on her!” “I know. We all know,” Prim said, her voice low, and her eyes closed. “We all know this was not thy intention, Luna. This is not thy fault.” Never in her life would Prim have imagined that she would comfort a princess in a time of need, but she found that it was a natural thing to do. Luna’s head was just a little larger than anypony else’s and it lay heavy in Prim’s foreleg, as the other hoof ran down the side of Luna’s neck to her shoulder, before repeating the gesture. It was not meant to heal, Prim had not nearly enough confidence to think that she could heal such a deep wound, but she thought she may be able to stop the emotional bleeding this evening. “I miss her,” Luna whispered, as though she was afraid to be overheard. Prim didn’t speak. It wouldn’t be proper to interrupt her, to break the delicate moment when the princess was willing to speak on her pain. “There was so much I needed to tell her,” she said, her breath coming in short gasps. Princess Luna stood roughly, her hooves slipping on the floor like a long legged filly trying to stand for the first time, as she looked to the sun, low in the sky outside her window. Stumbling towards the window, she was stopped only by Prim stepping in front of her and putting her forelegs around Luna’s body, holding her as tight as she could. “M… Maybe she c… can hear me!” Luna wailed, her magic ripping the window open with enough force to blow the glass panes apart, but Prim didn’t let go despite the glass shards bouncing off her back. “Sister!” she howled, tears dropping on the top of Prim’s head as the alicorn tried to struggle forward, but failed to gain a step. “Tia, please, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t… Oh stars I didn’t mean to. Please… Please…” She came to rest in Prim’s arms again, her shouting having faded to mumbled whispers, quiet begging for a reply that wouldn’t come. Prim did not speak, because Luna’s wracking sobs shook her body so sharply that Prim knew she wouldn’t be able to say anything steadily anyway, and Luna needed an immovable rock to lean on, no matter how temporary. “We gained our marks together.” Several minutes had passed, and Luna’s crying had become less violent, but Prim had stayed firm, holding the Princess’s head close. “What happened?” Prim asked after she realized Luna was waiting for her to speak. It surprised her to realize her own voice was rough, her cheeks matted with tears. “Starswirl came to us when he failed to set the moon… We didn’t understand how painful… How draining it was for the unicorns to raise and set the sun and moon… They would give themselves completely to it, the task leaving them unable to cast even the simplest spells for months or even years…” Prim gently brushed some of Luna’s tears away from under her eyes. “It was a last resort. We had no marks, no talent, just… figureheads. Symbols of… unity. Two unexplained alicorns wandering the land, not knowing what we sought” She closed her eyes tight and her lips twisted in a pained grimace as she fought the sorrow. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked and wavered. “Tia thought we could do it… She was so… so strong and… certain. I followed her to the peak of the mountain and we brought our magic to bear on the greatest things any creature could hope to grip. The sun and moon. It seemed impossible.” She twisted her head to look back out the window, at the sun. It was slightly lower, the sky starting to tint red. “She rose the sun while I set the moon, and in that moment… I found something of myself, a way of living, a reflection… of something more than myself.” Her expression turned to a bitter scowl, and she went limp against the carpet. “Now, all I shall reflect is sorrow.” “No.” Prim’s voice was as firm as she could make it, and her grip on Luna tightened, holding her close. “You don’t just reflect your mistakes, nopony does. Thou art thy successes, thou art all the times that thou hast saved ponies and cared for them. Thou art a reflection of thy ponies and thy nation, not just… Not just thy sister and the pain thou must feel now.” Luna slowly released the tension in her neck, and her wings fell limp against the floor. Finally, Prim took in her appearance, which she had not bothered with on entering the room. Princess Luna’s mane was as long and flowing as ever, but the burning stars that had lit it’s black surface had faded to the barest glimmers, and pastel blue strands had taken their place. She seemed so crushingly ordinary, as though she were a holy icon that had been stripped of all it’s silver and jewels, and was bare before her, all wood and lead and cloth. But somehow, Prim found her more precious for it. Slowly, a silver-blue light came to Princess Luna’s horn as she lay there, gathering and growing into a bright white flare. As it grew in brilliance, the sun outside set beyond the mountains, and though Prim could not see it, she knew the moon was rising on the opposite horizon. Such powerful magic was being performed just inches away, and yet Prim paid only attention to the tears still streaming from Luna’s eyes. The princess was a mess, and she seemed so drained that she would not even break her gaze from the shattered window in front of her. She seemed content to lay there as her horn darkened, and the depth of the night reclaimed her unlit room, the moon in the sky far from the proper angle to light it. Prim’s horn slowly took on it’s own straw-yellow light, and she slowly stood, as a handkerchief floated over from a bedside stand. While the sounds of the city outside driften in, Prim dried Luna’s eyes and nose, refusing to pay attention to the princess’s huffs and pinned back ears until her nose was dry. She then fetched a basket of brushes and began running it through Luna’s mane, then her coat. The princess would shed more tears, but each time she did, Prim dried them carefully and resumed her care. It was the sort of thing that a mare in waiting would normally do, but made so much more personal by the circumstance. No more words were spoken between them in the following hours, only an unspoken growing bond. Something greater than the friendship that Luna had offered, and something lesser than the pain they had both collapsed from, it persisted in spite of it all. She guided Luna into her regalia, and carefully brought strands of her mane into place as Luna stood at the window, looking out at the city and the craters in the forest. Prim hesitated, finding something wrong with the image of the regal princess. Her simple blackened silver regalia did not match her grief or her expression of despondency, and almost seemed to mock the mare who wore them. Though Luna looked to her questioningly, she did not stop Prim as she removed the regalia and went back into the royal wardrobe. It took a few moments, but she finally found something fitting. When she emerged, Luna’s eyes widened and she almost backed away, but Prim persisted, and dressed her quickly. The crown was polished silver and had not a trace of black, but with it Prim paired a mourning veil to trail down Luna’s neck. Her Torc was thin, decorative, not like the armor that it got it’s name from at all, and the boots were almost like slippers. Doing what she thought would match the somber mood, Prim dressed her princess, only to halt at a whisper from Luna’s lips. She didn’t quite hear, and stepped closer in the hopes of catching it. “I’m sorry, couldst thou repeat thyself?” “Get out.” Prim’s blood went cold, and she looked at Luna’s expression to try and understand what seemed to her to be a sudden change, but Luna’s face was a mask of fury. “I didn’t--” “Get out!” Luna roared, and with a blast of magic she tossed Prim aside, letting her tumble across the floor to land near the door. On shaking hooves, Prim tried to work the handle, but it wasn’t until the guards opened the door for her that she was able to leave, her princess tearing the regalia off herself as Prim ran to her own room, stumbling and hooves trembling. She made the scribes leave and locked herself in before curling up on the floor, sobbing. She didn’t understand it, she felt dazed and rattled to her core, and she could only blame herself. She had seen perfection in Luna, and somehow she had ruined it. She began slamming her hoof into her hind leg, striking it again and again as the shaking grew worse, desperate to punish herself for whatever she had done to enrage the one pony that she now realized she loved. When Prim awoke, her memories were clouded, and the evening before seemed so far away. She stood from the floor and took her clothes off before climbing into the tile lined washing tub that likely cost more to manufacture than her childhood home and farm. The distant thought of buying all of Trothnicum and becoming a noble in right as well as title gave her a short thrill of vindictive pride, her lips pressed in a thin humorless smile as her magic gripped the handle and turned, allowing a thin spray of cold water to rain down over her. Her magic undid the braid in her mane, and soon the water had soaked into her, easily enough to rinse the dirt and sweat from her. She remembered the public bath and her thin smile faded. She could have just come back to the castle, but she’d forgotten she had her own bath back then, it was such a distant and strange thought. Looking around, she realized that she did not have scrapers or brushes, just towels. She used her hoof to scrape her coat clean, once she turned off the cold shower, and then she dried herself as she started to shiver. The moon had not yet set, and it was still dark outside, but she couldn’t go back to sleep. She did not remember her dreams, but they had not been pleasant. Everything outside of her room seemed so far away. As she paused at her window, she looked out on the garden and saw the guards patrolling. The city seemed normal, quiet, and still at this early hour. She resolved then that she would begin waking earlier, if at all possible, to take in this emptiness she craved. So, awake and with her emotional state in a neutral place, Prim began to work. She balanced the lunar budget, checked the numbers with the treasury, ensured that all of the roster schedules were posted, and that all the ponies who had worked in the past month had been paid. It took time, but it took her mind off more painful things. It seemed like very little time had passed when the sunlight pouring through the skylight made her uncomfortably warm, and her stomach ached with hunger. So she reluctantly set her papers aside and left her room. It was shocking, how different the mood was outside her chambers. The shattered hallways and the injured ponies lining the great hall all spoke to the violence that had befallen the place, a violence she did not want to remember. She had to pause near a cot and catch her breath as the feeling of being choked came back to her, and would not leave. She had to close her eyes and block out every sound around her as she whimpered, the panic attack nearly making her cry out. But slowly it subsided. When she was aware again, a healer was shading her with their wing, offering her a place to hide from the sun above. “I’m sorry, I--” “No apologies. Not when in pain,” the old pegasus said firmly. “Is this seizing of the heart new?” Prim nodded and the healer grimaced. “This is a lasting pain. One which appears connected to the heat of the sun. I would recommend to thee a cloak, to offer a sense of protection, and a strict schedule to comfort the heart. No tragedy leaves it’s victims easily.” Prim just numbly nodded, and the healer walked away. Before the heat of the sunlight could catch up to her, Prim cantered to the other side of the hall, taking refuge in an intact section of hallway before ducking into the tunnel that led to the staff feast hall, which was being used to feed all the ponies residing in the castle. The hall was busy with day guard and staff, as well as all the injured that were healthy enough to walk, and the healers who gathered meals in bulk for those that could eat but not yet walk. Just like the rest, Prim waited in line, staying quiet and solitary as conversations buzzed around her. Once she got to the front of the line, she was given the same quick meal as everyone else. An invention from a city in Prance that Princess Celestia had once visited, the Pasty. It was like a pie but baked without a form and small enough for an earth pony to hold in one hoof. It made an efficient meal for one, and was served along with a folded paper pouch with some dried figs inside. She was also given a wooden cup that could be filled with a nearby barrel that was attended by a guard, as clean water was not easily available, the forest tainting much of the water that flowed through the moats and under the city bridges. After gathering her things, Prim sat and ate, watching the other ponies go about their lives with a bit of curiosity, but a healthy amount of comfort in not having to interact with them. Though she did not mind other ponies, the last 24 hours had left her feeling vulnerable and overwhelmed, and the last thing she needed was more ponies trying to speak with her, like the healer in the great hall. While the healer’s help was necessary and at some level appreciated, Prim did not like how easily the healer had evaluated her. She finished her meal and stood to leave, just as Golden Sparkle was being guided into the room by one of the healers. Her broken leg was held in a sling with a tightly bound splint on it, and she was leaning heavily on the healer as she tried to walk with only three legs. It was certainly doable, but extremely difficult for a pony that had never tried it before. Prim watched, and saw that all the other ponies were watching as well. As though Sparkle’s recovery was something they all depended on, and maybe they did in a way. Prim slipped outside, and with the focus of the room on the castalian, noone saw her go. She went straight to her room, galloping across the great hall to avoid staying in the sun too long, and fetching her nicely made cloak. As she slipped it on, she realized that her role in the castle had changed. Previously, she had wondered if she might lose her job in a day or two, at any moment her inexperience being discovered, but now it seemed Princess Luna needed her, or at least trusted her. Such a thing changed the way she would live. She pondered her priorities. Most of her work was done, and largely things would not change from her position being more long term, but she would need to plan more. One of those things was proper attire. She had only a single set of clothes, and though they were decent, they would not do for someone of her post for long. Making sure that her cloak covered her completely, she advised a lunar guard of her destination, posted them outside her office in case she was needed, and left the castle, her black and silver cloak drawing the eyes of more ponies than she may have preferred. Though Prim thought about going to several other shops, especially now that she had more money at her disposal, she decided that she did not want varied styles of clothes. She wanted varied clothes but in a congruent style, and though Sali had made her feel somewhat uncomfortable, the clothes she had made were exactly what Prim wanted. So, she returned to the run down shop with its cracked windows, still hidden by signs, masquerading as a fine boutique. The little silver bell over the door was new, and it briefly startled Prim as she tried to locate the source of the noise. By the time she looked back towards the counter, Sali was leaning on the counter, smiling. This time, Sali was wearing a grey and red dress, with the thin triangles of red going down her back looking somewhat like butterfly wings. She had her dark green mane done up into a bun with a jeweled red pin. It went well with the slightly darker red slippers on her hooves, and her red eyes. Prim could have sworn that her eyes had been green last time. “Welcome back, Chamberlain and Seneschal Prim Rose,” Sali said, her sultry voice low but brightened with amusement. “My cloak at least is in fine shape I see.” “Indeed,” Prim said, hoping that she was not blushing. Sali smirked and stepped out from behind the counter, sauntering up to Prim and examining the cloak more closely. “So, what wondrous event has guided thee back into my shop?” “A need for clothing, if thou wouldst believe it,” Prim said sarcastically. Sali actually tutted, but her smile never left. “Such a temper. If one did not know better, they may assume that thou art reluctant to be here at all! But that would simply be absurd, after all, thou art my new muse! Do not my colors strike thee as familiar?” Sali asked as she spun in place. Slowly, Prim realized that Sali was wearing Prim’s own coat and mane colors, a grey-red and more vivid pink and maroon to match Prim’s mane and tail. Her blush spread despite her wishes that it wouldn’t. “Dost thou enjoy the dress?” Sali asked, her nose nearly touching Prim’s as she stepped forward. “‘Tis… a fine thing,” Prim admitted. “Finer than any… muse may be.” Sali just laughed and trotted daintily back to her counter. “Well, a need for clothes it is then, what sort of creation may I summon for thee?” Prim relaxed a little, shivering while the other mare’s attention was away from her, before standing straight and walking closer. “I need… More clothing, naturally, as I shall be serving as Seneschal and Chamberlain for some time to come.” “Ah, did thy replacement die in the fires?” Sali said with a smirk. Her smirk vanished when a magical shove sent her crashing against a shelf, a basket of buttons spilling onto the floor and rattling in every direction. Stunned into silence for the first time in a very long time, Sali looked up at the furious unicorn in shock. Prim was trembling, but fighting to calm down. “I apologize, that was uncalled for,” Prim admitted. “But nopony should make jokes of what happened the night before last.” Sali nodded numbly and stood, watching Prim carefully as she took out a pad of paper and a pencil. “A dress, two more cloaks, cold weather clothing, a waterproofed cloak, boots, stockings, a full skirt, a set of socks, and another set of blouse and vest,” Sali listed off quietly as she wrote them down. “Change the skirt to a pair of breeches and add a finer set of bags, and it shall suffice,” Prim said just as softly. She felt like she’d broken something precious in silencing the boisterous mare, and like she should fix it somehow. “I can finish it all in a week’s time, for eight gold.” Prim chuckled softly, her nervousness making it hard to pretend to be happy as she rubbed a foreleg with her hoof, looking away. “For such a bargain price I’d expect a demand to use my name in a sign on the window. The official clothier of the Lunar court.” “”I have no wish to trouble thee,” Sali said, still demure. “Please…” They both stopped, silent across a counter, and unwilling to look at eachother. “I am deeply sorry,” Prim finally whispered. Sali hissed in a breath past clenched teeth, as if fighting to keep back words that she wasn’t willing to let loose, and losing the struggle. She opened her mouth, then closed it, wiping tears from her cheeks and looking at Prim with hardened eyes. “Apologies do not fix everything, but it shall serve as a start,” she said, voice trembling. “Please, use my name. Thou hast clothed Princess Luna and myself, and I shall only come to thee. If I may serve thee some good, I shall.” Sali sniffled before smiling slightly, tilting her head a little and making Prim think of a disappointed mother. “Money shant heal this wound.” “I’ll not expect it to,” Prim promised. “I’ll only expect it to heal a cracked window and some spilled buttons. The rest… Is time and other things,” she said as she stepped forward and placed ten gold pieces on the counter. “I’ll do thee right.” Sali took the money and nodded, standing and straightening her dress. “I’ll get to working on thy clothes then, Lady Rose. I shall send a runner if they are finished early.” Prim nodded and walked to the door, stopping with her hoof on the wooden bar used to press it open. She hesitated as she felt some great existential emptiness looming over her. A pain too great to acknowledge directly, casting a shadow over her soul, as blinding as the sunlight outside. It ached so much she thought she might began crying and turn back to seek comfort in the sly mare she’d hurt, but instead she drew her hood and pushed the door open, leaving under the ringing of that silver bell.