"This is a Home, and absolutely everything that word means. It is a safe place, where no harm will come your way. This is a place of acceptance. This is a place of peace. It is a place of -" the pegasus suddenly stopped mid-word. She had given this speech dozens of times, to every colt and filly who walked in her door. Sometimes it was to calm tears, sometimes giddy laughter at finally reaching somewhere away from the war.
This time, for the very, very first time ever, it was to two unicorns, not other pegasi: A white filly with a sun emblazoned on her flank for a cutie mark, and one midnight-blue with the accompanying moon, who was apparently far, far too young to have yet gotten her cutie mark otherwise. The pegasus guessed that the blue one had gotten hers at the same time as the older one, synchronously. And if they were that soul-boundedly close, they must be siblings. She knew how to read children; she'd seen enough of them.
Pagasopolis Home for Wayward Youngsters was filling up fast with pegasus children, mostly orphans from the war against the unicorns and Earth ponies. Some merely got separated from their parents, either gotten lost after a bombing, or those whose parents were out fighting, brought by pegusus guards. Occasionally, they were dropped off by the parents themselves, who simply wanted to keep them safe.
Never, ever alone. And most decidedly, never ever EVER ... the enemy.
Admittedly, the pegasus did hesitate but for a moment, then chided herself, and finally sighed and raised her lantern over the door to invite them in. The dark of the midnight sky outside could not hide the words she knew were emblazoned over the door of Home, for they burned bright in her mind:
"Heart is a part of the body; Home is a part of the Soul."
No one's soul would go without Home, not on her watch.
"Come in, little children. Are you hungry? Or thirsty?" They were, of course, both, as they all were when they arrived here. Food of the belly would be provided. Food of the mind... well... that would take longer to prepare.
* * *
Deep in her third bowl of breakfast cereal, (where were they putting it all? They must not have eaten in days, poor dears) the smaller one whispered in fits and starts to her older sister, who whispered equally fitfully back. They hadn't spoken to their host since they arrived, which was actually a good thing. None of the other Wayward Children in the Home would be woken from their beds at four in the morning, as had happened in the past with bombing runs, or simply oblivious guards. Also, with only the three of them sitting in the kitchen together, away from the prying eyes of the others, the situation afforded more privacy and a much deeper, more open understanding of each other than when newcomers are surrounded by strangers with prying eyes. This would be just them and her. They would talk when they were ready.
At last, they were ready. "Thank you," said the oldest, barely above the previous whisper. Well, they had manners at least. "You're really nice. I wasn't expecting that from pegus-" she stopped, realizing mid-sentence that she'd stuck her hoof in it, and clammed up, sticking both hooves over her mouth.
Broad smile. Breath. "You weren't expecting pegasi to be nice? Well, now you have met a nice one, and maybe you'll meet many more. My name's Homeshine." The pegusus deliberately did not ask for the children's names. They would either volunteer it in response, or they wouldn't.
"My name's Celestia."
"I'm Woona."
"Well, I am SO very happy to have you here. It's terrible what the war is doing to all the children. I would so much rather have them here, receiving care and attention, than lost in the woods."
Celestia nodded, "Yes; I'm guessing the orphanage is here in the woods, and not in the clouds proper, to keep it away from the attacks on the more strategic resources? If it were situated closer, it would be more endangered." These words did not sound as if they came from a filly. Stunted growth, perhaps? It would explain them having cutie marks already. Lack of food would cause that, and food was in short supply in some lands, she'd heard.
"Can I ask how old you two are?"
" 'Leven"
"Seven"
"You sound very smart for eleven."
"You don't believe me. " Her head slammed the table, face-down, "No one does."
"Actually, I do. It's okay. No one tends to believe me, either, when I say things. I tell others about the Home, and and how it's Safe Place, and people think I'm making it up, somehow. My name was almost Cassandra."
Luna looked curiously, not recognizing the name, "Who is Cassandra?"
Celestia explained in a classic 'I'm explaining to my sister' voice, "Cassandra had the ability to see the future, but if she told anyone about what would happen, they wouldn't believe her." She turned to the pegasus, "You're the first one I've met who knew of Cassandra. How did you know?"
"Well, we have a big book of mythology; would you like to see it? We can learn about Theseus and the Minotaur, and -"
"YAY!" they chorused together, front legs raised high.
"BUT you'll have to keep it down out there. Other ponies are trying to sleep."
"Sorry," Celestia whispered. Luna stuffed her front hooves in her mouth in a rather adorable manner.
"And maybe you'll tell me your story afterwards."
"Maybe ..." Celestia looked dejectedly at the ground, mood completely changed in an instant. Shouldn't have suggested it.
"Or not if you don't want to. Or later, if that. But know that whatever your story is, this is the Home, and everything that word means. Whatever you say or do, whatever you've said or done in the past, (she'd known others feeling horribly guilty about stealing food, poor dears.) there is nothing in your story that can stop this from being a Home for you. You are cared for here. You are accepted here. And nothing you can ever say or do will ever change that," she was stopped by the Oomph of a rush of air, as the little Luna glomped her lower half in a hug.
"Love you," she said.
The pegasus returned the unicorn's hug, "I love you, too. I love all my little ponies."
All in all, it was a perfect first welcome.
* * *
"I am given to understand there are Unicorns who have arrived in your orphanage?"
"Small children, yes."
"They are likely spies. They will share tactical knowledge with their ... kind." The pegasus guard appeared as if he wanted to substitute a different word there, a more malicious one, but decided not to at the last second, as there were children present.
"I'm not kicking them out. They are children."
"On the contrary, you must keep them in. They shall not be able to report what they have already learned. See that they do not escape." With that final order, the pegasus guard did a stunningly perfect turn, and paraded out the door into the dawning sun as if he were an entire platoon, and not a one soldier Just Following Orders from an equally clueless bureaucrat. Homeshine finally let her breath go that she didn't even know she was holding. Well, time to check on her new … prisoners? Sheesh. She did not understand the military mind, but … they were at war. Perhaps they knew better than her.
Homeshine had belonged to Home as a filly. Home was the only home she had ever known. She'd inherited it from the previous caretaker, and doubtlessly one of her charges might prove particularly special and inherit it in turn. She looked once again at the heading etched over the door, golden in the sunrise, and golden in her heart. It had softened her tears when she was no more than her Ponies' age. And it still softened them now.
And, by golly, she meant every word of it.