Hundreds of years ago, when the kingdom was still young, a general took a group of ponies to an island in the Eastern Sea, in an attempt to expand Equestria’s borders. A settlement was built, made of a series of cottages for the commoners and a small castle-esque manor for the general and his family.
The settlement didn’t last long. The ground was hard and infertile. There was little fresh water. With no crops, there was no trade, so the docks remained empty, as did family lock boxes. Empty bellies made for weak immune systems, and within weeks of the first cough, half the population was gone. The island was abandoned.
It was centuries later that Equestria decided to abandon their criminals on this island. It was inspected when the idea came about. The buildings were crumbling, with ceilings caved in, walls collapsing, and floors coated with a thick layer of dust. Any semblance of a garden was wiped away with the years passing. The whole place was covered in a fine layer of mold and muck.
Certainly a place perfect for a prison.
They were dumped there with only a promise of monthly dumps of second-hoof scraps of food, clothing, and other items. A long-winded way of saying garbage. It didn’t take long for a barrier to be found around the large crop of land, trapping them there with no magic or hope of escape.
The prisoners made do with what they found themselves with. Territories were claimed. Houses filled. Buildings erected. Areas named.
‘The Wharf’ was the name given to the docks and the land and buildings around them. Boats were taken out in the mile or so of water the barrier afforded, in search of water plants to make up for lack of crops, something small to survive on until the next garbage dump.
The Wharf was crowded as usual. A permanent stench of damp seaweed and ocean water clung to the air and those who lived there. A young satyr stalked through, baring his fangs at an old mare holding a tin cup out to him.
His coat color was indistinguishable from the years of muck and grime matting it. His smoke-grey eyes surveyed those around him with an air of superiority. He was handsome, despite his filth. His face was narrow, well defined, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Like many his age on the Island, he was muscular from the long hours of physical labor and fighting. Being bipedal, he was clearly one of, if not the, tallest inhabitant of the Island, having to duck to fit through doors designed for the ponies that made up the majority of the population. He wore torn red cotton pants and a green vest of cracked leather. A sword was sheathed in a belt around his waist, and a metal crest sat atop his brow.
His threatening gait changed to a more relaxed strut as he made his way to a derelict wooden building. He knew things about this building, like that is was built from what used to be a ship’s hull. He should know, he’s the one who got the wood.
If only he hadn’t built the doorway so low.
He crouched to enter, his twisted black horns scraping audibly on the doorframe. A furry hand clutched the sword at his side, unsheathing it and dumping it unceremoniously in a barrel. Here, he could straighten up as the ceiling was at least seven feet high. Raucous chatter emanated from each table. A pony reeking of cider pushed past him on wobbly legs.
The satyr rolled his eyes and made his way over to a counter at the back of the room. He snagged a knife lying on the countertop and tossed it at the wall, hitting a newspaper clipping littered with holes from previous throws. The clipping featured a picture of the Center King’s coronation, of the young king and his marefriend.
A girl, golden yellow in coat, with a filthy mane of an odd color that fell somewhere between blue and sea-green stood behind the counter, wiping out a tin cup that looked as if it had never seen a sud of soap. Her brows knocked together in a scowl as she pulled the knife from the wall. She let out a growl, turning her glare to the picture. She spat at it and turned back to the cup.
“One order of pickled herring. Make it snappy.” the satyr ordered.
The filly threw the rag at him, catching it on his horns so that it covered his face. “Get it yourself! You’re in here enough, you know where it is, plus you’re the only one who orders it. I’m too busy to deal with you today, Dion.”
The boy pulled the rag off, smirking. “Aww, c’mon, ‘Pella! Don’t be like that!”
“Go bother somepony else! Find Rhys! I don’t like him wandering.”
At the sound of his name, a short, stocky colt came over to the counter. “I’m not wandering, Cappella, I’m right here!”
“Good, keep each other entertained.”
“Any news from the mainland?” Dion asked.
“Not much,” the colt, Rhys, responded, “just that Nyx is about to enter the Equestrian court.”
***
“You might just be the shortest pony I’ve ever seen!”
The filly jumped at the voice and looked up. An Alicorn stood on the stone wall next to her. She was dark in coat, with gorgeous, almost dragon-esque eyes, and a wavy plum mane that fell around her shoulders. The two looked to be the same age, around seven. And she was beautiful.
“Hey ankle biter, you hear me?”
“What?” the other girl snapped out of her thoughts, “Ankle biter?
“Yeah, ‘cuz you’re short.”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Nuh uh! You’re an Alicorn, you’re just really tall!”
“Nope!” the filly said, popping the ‘p’, “I’m a bit shorter than a lot of ponies. You’re just tiny!”
“Whatever! And you’re wrong, I’m not even a pony!”
The Alicorn hopped down in front of the other girl. She did indeed tower over her. “You look like one.”
“That’s because there’s no magic here, stupid.” Suddenly, the taller girl was in her face.
“Who you callin’ stupid?!”
She glared back just as hard, puffing out her chest, trying to make herself look bigger. “Who do you think?!”
The two stood nose-to-nose, glaring daggers and breathing fire. Moments later the taller girl backed off.
“You got guts. I like that. Name’s Nyx, daughter of Nightmare Moon. And you are?”
“Cappella, daughter of-”
“I don’t care,” the filly, Nyx, cut her off, “Probably somepony lame anyway if you’re that little. You’re gonna have to be tough to walk and talk with me.”
Cappella’s glare returned. “Who says I want that?”
“Because everyone’s scared of me. I get whatever I want.”
‘Scared of your mom, more like,’ the smaller girl thought, but said aloud, “Then what do you want me for?”
The Alicorn flexed her wings. “I can see potential in you. And darkness knows there’s a lack of that around here. We could own this place. What d’ya say, biter?”
A smile spread across Cappella’s face.
***
The filly scowled. “Don’t say her name,” she growled.
Rhys tilted his head. “But weren’t you two friends before? She even gave you a nickname, didn’t she? Ankle bi-”
The blade the filly had pulled from the wall was suddenly pressed against his throat, her eyes inches from his own.
“Don’t. You. Dare,” she seethed.
“Okay, okay! I won’t, I won’t say anything, I promise!”
Cappella huffed and moved back to cleaning cups. The colt rubbed at his neck while the satyr laughed.
“You wouldn’t think it was funny if it was your throat she was after,” Rhys muttered.
Dion shot Cappella a grin. “She wouldn’t kill me, she likes me too much.”
“I’d sell you to those con twins for a corn chip.”
His smile dropped and he faked a Trottingham accent. “Aye, cheers love.”
“Go get your herring, and take Rhys with you! I don’t want you two bothering me for the rest of my shift!”
The boys grumbled but did as they were told. Cappella turned her attention to the door as a hunch-backed pony entered.
“Pick a table, I’ll be with you in a minute!” she shouted. She continued with the cup long after the worst stains were gone. She glanced outside the porthole-like windows at the dying light. Her shift ended when the sun was evenly framed by the window. One of her cousins would come in then and take over. The difference, though, is that they would get paid.
Her mother owned the restaurant, so she was expected to work without pay. Plus, she was given the longest shift with the most difficult hours, so her mom wouldn’t have to pay much to whoever else came in. Cappella had been on her hooves since the sun had risen that morning, and the only break she had was the few minutes nopony was in the dining room. She stared longingly out the window. Unlike rest of the Island, that got only scraps and strips of sunlight through the tiny gaps between derelict buildings, the restaurant stood facing the docks, giving it a wide, clear view of the ocean beyond the barrier and Equestria across the water.
She let out a groan. Standing here wouldn’t make her shift end any sooner. She moped her way over to the table, tugging at the torn sleeve of her mauve shirt with her teeth as she walked. “What’ll it be?”
“Coffee,” the pony, a mare, said.
“Don’t have any coffee.”
“You had coffee last week!”
The filly rolled her eyes. “And that was the last of it.”
“The barge came since then!”
“It’s not my fault nopony in Equestria threw out coffee this time! Now pick something else, or get out!”
The mare grumbled. “Did you get any lettuce?”
“Enough for a salad, but it’ll just be a bowl of lettuce.”
“That’ll do.”
The door opened and a cousin walked in. Cappella’s face brightened as the colt clocked in.
“He’ll deal with you!” she said, running to the door that lead to the storeroom. A green jacket and a brown belt hung on a rusty nail next to the door. She pulled the jacket over her shoulders, then fastened the belt around her waist, holding the mutilated fabric to her body. The girl laid a hoof on the door, but paused before opening it, listening to the voices within.
“But weren’t they friends?” she heard Rhys say.
“Well, not friends, per say, more like...” the other colt’s voice dropped to a whisper that she couldn’t quite decipher. It didn’t matter, she knew what he said.
“Hey!” she said, pushing the door open. She fully intended to give them a piece of her mind, but paused at a thought: if Rhys knows, he won’t bring it up again, and if Dion is the one to tell him, she won’t have to mention it. “Hurry up, my shift’s over. Pay for your stuff and meet me outside.”
She darted through the restaurant and out the door, coming to a rest just outside. She stared off over the ocean, the salty air swirling around her. In the distance, she could see the sun lowering behind Equestria.
***
Rain beat down on the filly. She felt numb, from the cold or her pain, she couldn’t tell. The storm was located only within the barrier. She’d heard some of the older ponies compare the Island to something called ‘The Everfree Forest’, whatever that was. She just knew weather here occurred naturally, unlike the Pegasi-made clouds in Equestria.
She pushed her rain-soaked mane from her eyes and she shuddered. It had been a stressful month. Equestrian guards came to collect four Isle foals, Shade, Lady Bug, Flare, and Nyx. Their parents sent them away with, as rumors said, a mission to steal the Elements of Harmony. This rumor was practically confirmed when the barrier fell the day of King Will’s coronation, and Nightmare Moon was seen flying toward the mainland. Chrysalis, Sombra, and Sunset Shimmer had run down from the apartment above Bargain Barn and called for order. While they organized groups together to await the Alicorn’s signal, she had sprinted to the docks.
The filly was one of the few Island residents that possessed the ability to swim, due to the fact she lived so close to the small bit of ocean they were allowed. It didn’t matter how many miles of sea she’d have to traverse to get to the mainland; only one thought was on her mind: she was escaping. Who needed Nightmare Moon and her signals? She was perfectly capable of getting away on her own.
But, skidding to a stop in front of her mother’s restaurant, she was greeted by the barrier fully intact. They were left in the dark regarding what happened until the garbage dump a few days later.
They turned good. They turned good and they wanted to stay. Nyx had fallen in love with the colt she was meant to con. And they stayed. They abandoned everypony else who was still stuck on the Island. And they stayed.
She grabbed a sharp rock and hurled it at the barrier. The stone impacted the magic wall, sending shock waves over the surface, carrying her anger over the rest of their prison. She let out a blood-curdling shriek, sending rock after rock sailing into the barrier and the water below. Finally, exhausted, she slumped on the ground, tears mingling with raindrops on her face. They were gone. They escaped. And she was still. Stuck. Here.
Something bitter was planted in her chest. Something hard and angry. It writhed and groaned, settling in for the long run.
***
As Cappella blinked away the memory, her ears were met with raucous jeers as the boys exited the restaurant. She grinned at them.
“What’s my name?” she demanded.
Rhys gave her a confused look. “C-cappella?” The Satyr at his side gave him a shove and a withering look. He took off the crest that sat between his horns and held it tightly against his chest.
“Captain Cappella,” he stated proudly, “Of the Bayonetta, the finest vessel to ever touch water!”
“And quite the crew we are,” she smirked, “The Gunner, the son of the treasure hunter Doctor Caballeron. First mate, son of the Satyr known as ‘The Storm King’. And me, Captain, daughter of the Siren Adagio!” her eyes roamed, surveying the ponies and the docks, “We’re gonna own this place.”
Own it they did indeed. Cappella already had a rather impressive piece of territory, but once Nyx and her gang had been taken from the Island, she and her crew had conquered the majority of their claims as well. The crew of the Bayonetta had become the most feared group on the Island in the absence of Nyx and whomever she deemed worthy to stand at her side.
‘I had been worthy once,’ Cappella mused. But there was no point in worrying over that now. She shouted to her Gunner, ordering him to round up the rest of the crew. He saluted and bolted away. The rest of the members were similar in origin, fellow street urchins living around the docks.
Presently, she and Dion made their way to the Bayonetta. In truth, the ship never sailed. The filly’s father had built it when she was little, with a promise to take her and her mother far away from the Island, where nopony could hurt them. It was he who taught her to swim, and the ins and outs of commanding a ship. She was a fast learner, he’d praised, calling her as sharp as a bayonet. His little Bayonetta. He named his ship after her.
Cappella took a steeling breath as she boarded his ship. Her ship. Her father had died not long after the final board was nailed.
The vessel was far too large to take out into the small stretch of sea the barrier provided, so it remained docked where it was first set to float. It didn’t matter much to the crew. Many made a permanent home aboard the ship, keeping it in shape for the far off day they did escape. Until then, it was their headquarters. Today’s agenda was a raid. Some members of a gang on the East side of the Island had been seen picking pockets in their territory. Final plans would be made once everyone had arrived, and they’d set out at midnight to the other gang’s headquarters. There, they’d take whatever they could get their hooves on.
The filly made her way to the Captain’s Quarters to await the rest of her team. She lowered herself into a dusty old chair Dion had gotten for her from a particularly generous garbage dump. She spread a map out over her desk. It featured the Island, crudely drawn, and the locations of their allies and enemies. Allies and enemies…
Her mind drifted to Nyx and her gang. They’d betrayed her. Betrayed all of them. But not to worry, she’d get her revenge. One way or another, they’d never forget her again.