//------------------------------// // Bell and Book // Story: The First Flame // by Rune Soldier Dan //------------------------------// The explosion which obliterated the quaint Vanhoover manse sent shock-waves through the nations. Only Celestia survived, plucked concussed and battered from the rubble. Other realms entered a scramble of recriminations and fear. Dog ambassadors howled endlessly of changeling treachery, privately terrified their own anarchists had done the deed. The Minotaur Kingdom entered a shock of mourning for their ancient ruler, while Yakyakistan glumly coronated the one already called “Mad” King Rutherford. Griffons sent trembling missives asking their financial lifelines not perish with their beloved ruler, and changeling nobles enacted long-made contingencies of alliance and betrayal as they fought for the empty throne. All had cause to be grateful for the steady hoof still guiding Equestria. Celestia moderated, negotiated, and aided as needed, replacing blind threats to retaliate with calm investigation. Tempers and worries cooled with her labor, bringing the lands back from the edge of war. Theories of dog anarchists and wandering dragons were discussed and shrugged upon, for no criminal or nation took credit, and no valid proof was ever found. That Celestia called a new meeting of the rulers was expected, given all that transpired. The location was another rural mansion, this time in the Unicorn Range. Far warmer and closer to Canterlot, with Wonderbolts circling above and guards in the upper floors and gatehouse. Packages and guests were screened thoroughly as each new sovereign arrived, and each met gratefully with their host. None mentioned the white wing still splinted at her side, or the faint bruises on her head. Celestia greeted the newcomers as politely as ever, though with a cold defensiveness that shocked their memories of her. She seemed harried and worried, smiling through a strainer as they took their seats. “Now to business,” she said, assuming a perch on her own chair. And she removed Chrysalis’ treaty from its case and passed it around the table. Celestia had no idea there even was a conspiracy before that fateful gathering. She had no idea how deep Chrysalis’ hooks had plunged, or how many here today were involved. Some? All? They read the treaty down to its signatures and looked to her – her pensive face, her worried posture. They saw an outmatched monarch fearing for her kingdom, wondering if the alliance survived its authors. Unaware of just how badly they needed her to steady their tipping thrones. The new griffon king Auroch put on a very great show of puffing his brown-feathered chest and squawking with indignant fury. A thick, taloned fist slammed the table hard enough to slop mead from his cup. “Treason! That is all that can be said for Adolphus.” Acting-President Yella of Diamondia polished her glasses frantically, her nervous, yipping voice quick to follow the prevailing view. “Yes, quite so. For us, that is. All dogs only wish the best for Equestria, and we are creatures of loyalty. Had this cruel war gone forth you would have had nothing to fear, for Diamondia would have risen up against our corrupt leader and marched to your rescue.” The yak at the table gave a thin smile and rolled her eyes. Khani – a female, slight by her race’s standards. Doubtless sent by Yakyakistan to conceal their new king’s weakness for as long as they could. “All posturing aside, this was a horrific betrayal of Yak Honor. What blackmail the changelings held to force King Grunder’s obedience, I cannot say.” “Let’s find out, hm!?” Another fist crashed to the table, solid and bull-like to make Auroch’s seem puny. A silver mug collapsed like tin beneath it as Regent Hornulus of the minotaurs bellowed his challenge. “I want to know how Chrysalis made Minosa go against her oldest friend. So how ‘bout it, little bug? You expect us to think your momma kept her own whelps in the dark? Heck, This meeting is for peaceful nations. Why are you even here?” The replay came tersely, emerging from a shadowed end of the table the others shunned. “Because I was invited.” There sat Morphus, the new changeling king. Young and precocious, slight and quiet, unlikely victor of the bloody coups that followed Chrysalis’ death. Peering his blank blue eyes defiantly as he sat heartbeats away from war, with hooves folded around a simple collared shirt. The voice was scratchy and high. “Chrysalis did not make us aware of her plan. If, indeed, she was the architect.” “‘If?’” Khani gave a droll smile, and Celestia decided she did not like her. “Come off it, bug. How stupid do you think we are?” A hard thunk sounded off as Celestia brought her hoof to the table. Softer than the posturing kings, but all’s attention moved instantly to her. Her face, still worried, bespoke of guarded hope. “Slurs do not become us. But the urgency of my cause bids me reclaim the conversation and ask if any of you press these demands against Equestria, and threaten war if they are refused?” A chorus of chest-beating loyalty sprung up around her. Morphus quietly, others with escalating volume. Celestia gave what many fancied to be her first true smile of the day – fully natural of one who expected enemies and found friends. They burned the treaty as a symbol of unity, and toasted each other by the fireside. Angry musings fell away to companionable laughs, and a few promptings from Celestia ended all talk of blame. All agreed the conspirators were dead, and none desired anything more than the status quo. Hours passed with food and fellowship, devolving once to a drunken contest of stacking cups before Celestia gently reminded her guests she would be quite busy the next few days. She shook hooves, claws, and hands as each one left, relief still evident on her face as she accepted straggling promises of friendship. Auroch took wing for his own land, while the rest headed to comfortable Equestrian hotels. The sun dipped low, its coppery red a fine counterpoint to the yellow glow around Celestia as she eased it downwards, then passed the burden to Luna’s distant grip. She finished the evening on a hill just outside the manse, affording a beautiful view of the fields stretching into twilight. A scratchy voice came from behind. “I have something to say.” She turned to find the small, quiet King Morphus. The eerie blue eyes watched her, and a trembling swallow preceded the words. “I was involved. So was Hornulus. I don’t know about the others.” Celestia smiled, very gently. “The claim was abandoned. We have no grudge, if you do not seek to make one.” “I don’t,” he said. A low graveling entered the voice, betraying emotion behind the featureless eyes. “I have something else to say.” “Then come say it.” Celestia’s melodic words flowed easily. She gestured with neck and wing for him to close the ten steps still between them. Morphus did not budge, and the graveling lent his words a thick air of intensity. “I know what destroyed them.” Celestia went still for just one second before giving a blink and twisted smile. “My agents have tracked a dozen nearby dragons, pressed as deeply as we could into the criminal underground, and even interviewed anarchists from Diamondia. They seem no closer to determining the truth than when they started. But if speaking your theory makes you happy, I shall be your audience.” Two seconds passed before he responded. Long enough for Celestia to wonder what hidden gears had turned when he said, “The First Flame. Your folk know the legend.” “I trust this will go somewhere,” Celestia said, letting the barest hint of amusement play upon her face. The expressionless eyes did not waver as Morphus told the story few books still cared to print. “Dark things conquered the world at its birth. Twisted, ugly abominations of slime and grotesque monstrosity, making the weak and kindly creatures who lived here their tortured playthings. Continuing for an eon until a wanderer came from the stars. A being of flowing silver and light, who took pity on the agonized world and liberated it, burning away the god-demons with fiery might. She was the First Flame, and is the reason for all that came after.” “It.” The soft correction hung between them an extra moment before Celestia spoke quietly again. “‘It’ was the First Flame. The legends do not assign it a gender.” Morphus seemed to consider his response, letting poignant silence enunciate the nigh-imperceptible narrowing of his eyes. “Your legends don’t. Ours do so freely.” Celestia released an annoyed sigh, imperfectly masked by her smile. “Please speak directly, for I see where this is heading. You believe I am the First Flame? Leaped from the storybooks, wearing the guise of an alicorn for… some reason?” The black, hairless head nodded, ending with an arched nose. “I do.” A velvety, but undeniably humored laugh barked forth, then was cut short by a cough and blush. Celestia swiped a fetlock over her lips and shook her head. “Forgive me, please, but excuse me as well. That is ridiculous in every way. Recall that I lost to your mother in Canterlot and ask if such is the work of a world-saving messiah.” “Mother talked often of you.” Morphus paced to the side, growing no closer as tension settled in his voice. “She called you her mirror, her antipode. You trust others, you make friends, you help them along. You care for them. Precious ponies are potential casualties if two great beings unleashed their might in a wedding hall.” Pink eyes followed his every move. “Not as many casualties as there would have been if Chrysalis won.” “But she didn’t.” Morphus gave a quiet cough. “The ponies won bloodlessly, the way you always strive for. A strange result after you so completely lost control, and a triumph for your doctrine of trust and fellowship. I have studied – that has been the pattern of Equestria’s history. Heroes rise and monsters fall with nigh-universal bloodlessness. Your own hoof in things is always so small, yet the result is always similar.” Celestia smiled patiently. “I teach, and they act. My heroes know me. My opinion has been steady, and it is no majestic secret. Each and every one of us is precious and unique. There is no one exactly like you, I, or anyone throughout the whole of the past or future, and so every life must be celebrated and nourished as befits an irreplaceable thing of beauty. I have taught this consistently, and so my heroes have achieved consistent results.” The smiled faltered. “And… if you are saying I caused that explosion and killed your mother, that would seem to end the allegation my record is somehow too perfect.” Now it was Morphus’ turn to give his lips a thin upwards curve. “Mother laughed so hard when I told her my theory. I am an academic, obviously, so my opinion was never considered worthwhile. She could not shake the romantic notion you were her only equal, or accept any idea of the future without her astride Canterlot.” “Her humor was not misplaced.” Celestia bowed her head, maintaining a serious tone. “To be an academic is a noble passion, and one too often divorced from politics. You will be a fine ruler. But it is an eccentricity of scholars like yourself to find links in thin air, and attribute pet theories wherever the canvas is blank. I can only believe you have fallen into this trap.” Morphus listened politely, but pressed beyond her words. “It was mother’s crowning moment, when momentum was finally to swing irreversibly in her favor. Your heroes against her armies, no chance. Your trusts betrayed, your friendships corrupted. Not one day ever went by without a changeling in Canterlot, and in pouring over their notes she fancied she knew you better than you knew yourself. Every out you ever had was accounted and mitigated, every space on your board in checkmate. For the first time, the first time in all history, Celestia was in a trap she could never escape. I read those plans in minutia. Honestly, I carried some of them out. You were doomed. And then… a convenient, untraceable convocation of fire, bringing it all to naught. Backed into a corner as you were, what choice remained? Princess, I know I cannot prove it, but I have never been so certain.” “You accuse me of murder,” Celestia said. “I accuse you of nothing.” Morphus finally ended his pacing and turned to her. “It was going to happen. She would never have accepted defeat. Not unless the First Flame revealed herself in bright silver glory… that could have saved her.” He swallowed, and trembled with the next words. “That could… save everything.” “Ridiculous,” Celestia said quickly. Low and intense, Morphus went on. “Mismanagement and corruption in the Griffon Kingdom. Yakyakistan’s idiot new king, the civil strife in Diamondia… us changelings, we squabble and stab to get ahead. I don’t even know how long I expect to live, and you can change it all. Bring enlightened rule to the continent and world.” The response was cold, and rapidly spoken. “The First Flame, if it ever existed, would not have any business ruling the world. The legends attribute it with nothing but destruction. Destruction of evil, yes, but destruction all the same.” “You excuse yourself of responsibility,” Morphus said. “Why the charade?” “Why the insistence? I am an alicorn, as others before me. Made worthy by my deeds to be paragon of the Equestrian race. Nothing more. Do you forget I have a blood sister, who shared my womb?” “She is not your blood!” Gravelly triumph entered Morphus’ voice. “Changelings saw you. Even then we were among ponies. As your power grew we sought word of your past, and one wanderer told of a weeping blue babe in the mud, discarded in those hard times. And he told of the very young mare with deep, pink eyes. Appearing as a child of six, but without gangly movements or trembling gait. Nor was there hint of trepidation as you placed the babe upon your back and raised her with motherly wisdom to call you sister.” Celestia gave a grumbling whinny and shook her head. “Your leaders of antiquity surely offered reward for information about me. This wanderer made up a plausible little story and cashed in.” “Princess, all is not well in the world and you can change it. You saw how easily those in power are swayed by the promise of more. We are petty, self-wounding little creatures. You could end it. Bring peace.” Celestia sniffed. “You are not as wise as you believe if you equate a god with peace.” “What about just my realm, then?” Morphus stepped forward and reached. The blue eyes wobbled beneath a thin sheen of tears. “We are hungry. Violent. You can help us.” “And I shall,” Celestia said. “Aid and support will be forthcoming. The rest is up to you, King Morphus.” “You can rule us.” Morphus strained his leg forwards, though never quite touched. “You are–” “Celestia.” The word came gently, softly, and in doing so ended the conversation. The temper was gone, leaving a doting smile. “Princess Celestia, co-ruler of Equestria. Nothing more.” The reaching hoof slid to the ground. Morphus breathed out jaggedly, then bowed and spun to walk away. Now bathed in velvet dusk, Celestia gave a final call. “I am sorry about your mother.” “You could have saved her.” The voice was low, defeated. Morphus did not look back, and soon vanished into the gloom. Celestia watched him leave then sat upon the hilltop, submerging her mind into feeling. Smelling the grass, hearing the breeze and chitter of crickets as wind blew through the ethereal silver in her mane. No thoughts, no plans, just the strange transitory sense of being mere part of a whole before cool, pleasant night gave way to day. Nothing lasted – lives or gentle evenings. Every moment was a precious gem. “You could have saved her.” She dreamed – yes, she could have. Flowing silver and flame. Power and glory, queen of queens, god of gods. A world at her hooves, held still beneath its master in an illusion of peace. But enough of dreams. She rose and began the short trod back to the manse. Princess Celestia, and nothing more. A thin, ghostly smile hovered at her lips, for there was one truth Morphus failed to pierce with all his books and wisdom. One truth banished to the dark of total ignorance, where perhaps the whole legend would follow. Those cruel god-demons of ages past, who enslaved, mocked, and slaughtered life until the First Flame took pity on the agonized world and destroyed them… they were not demons at all. Not dark, twisted creatures cavorting from abyssal depths. They were beautiful beings, of silver and light.