Authors Forward: This is an idea that I had somewhere around chapter 2 or chapter 3, which I absolutely could not get out of my head until I wrote it up. I’ll leave it up to you to decide how seriously to take it. If you’re pretty content with how the main story ended, this bonus shit may be a bit much for you, and you can disregard it. However, if you want some additional content, and don’t feel that a poorly executed deus ex machina type of thing ruins the impact the main story had, then read on. But don’t come bitching to me if you end up feeling like this totally optional, and frankly really rather excessive, bonus chapter somehow cheapens the experience of the main tale. You’ve been warned.
*IAW the fact that I finally decided to write a sequel, this chapter is now canon to the story, as the sequel couldn't occur without it. At least, not without me having to do a whole lot of work that I really don't want to do.
* * *
Somewhere…beyond the sea…
Somewhere waiting for me…
The gentle hum of the white wall ovals slipping effortlessly over the charcoal grey of the asphalt is lost to Ryan, carried away in the slipstream of air that flows over the windshield and across the open top of the car. Carried on that fast moving current of sun kissed air is a myriad of scents, each one distinct, yet combining in just the right way. The scent of moisture and salt from the ocean passing below the road on his right, the green smell of growing from the trees and brush climbing up the incline that runs away from the road on his left, the underlying smell of sun warmed asphalt.
My lover stands on golden sands…
And watches the ships that go sailing…
The cliff side road enters a gentle turn, flowing with the contours of the coast upon which it runs, describing a mild series of back-and-forth undulations that the old Lincoln handles effortlessly. Left arm cocked out of the driver side window at a jaunty angle, his right firmly on the wheel, Ryan marvels at the absolute perfection of the moment. Glancing to his right, he smiles at Callie, who’s seated comfortably across the vast expanse of white leather in a similar pose, light glinting from her sunglasses. She returns his smile ten-fold, laughing at his goofy expression, the sound like chimes tinkling brightly before being carried swiftly away by the slipstream.
From between them there comes an answering laughter, smaller, more high pitched. A young boy sits strapped into a car seat, giggling to himself as he plays with a couple of action figures. The sight of the boy, his red curls and brown eyes, fills Ryan with an unmatched joy, almost to the point of bursting, and Ryan begins laughing himself, his deeper voice providing a counter note to the boy’s mirth.
Isaac, his son.
If I could fly like birds on high…
Then straight to her arms
I’d go sailing…
The radio continues to fill the air with the warm noise of music from a lost era. Spotting a turn-out in the distance, he catches Callie’s eyes, gesturing towards it. She smiles and nods, and a few moments later they’re parked, the engine idling with a powerful bass rumble before he twists the key in the ignition.
The turnout provides a breathtaking view of the ocean before them, the deep cobalt of the water fading into the distance in a series of gentle rollers, merging with the sky and making it difficult to pick out the horizon.
Spotting a couple of picnic tables along the mossy rock wall that encloses the space, they quickly set out lunch, grabbing a couple of baskets from the cavernous trunk of the car. The meal is, of course, perfect, large neatly built sandwiches on rye bread with just a hint of spicy brown mustard, potato salad and coleslaw, and a thermos of sweet, dark tea. After they finish, he and Callie lean against each other, watching Isaac run and play along the old stones of the wall, each reveling in the presence of the other.
Eventually they begin to clean up, and as he packs the last of their meal into the trunk and closes the lid, he runs a hand along the lines of the sparkling automobile, a small smile crinkling the corners of his mouth. It’s a beautiful machine, an authentic 1967 Lincoln Continental painted fire engine red. The exact car that his dad had always dreamed of having. Smiling wistfully, he helps his wife collect their son and settle him back in his seat. Starting the engine with a throaty rumble, the small family backs out of the scenic overlook and pulls onto the road.
The day remains beautiful, and he takes in the scenery that rolls endlessly past. Sometimes it makes him think of California, other times it reminds him of the Oregon coast. He knows however that it is neither. Knowing the ways of this place like he does, he suspects that it’s possible that it’s actually both. In the end though it doesn’t matter, and he takes a deep breath, luxuriating in the day, in the car, in the presence of his family.
The radio switches to another song, and he finds his eyes drawn to the rearview mirror, focusing on the empty back seat. His brow furrowing, he gives his head a brief shake before looking back to the unfurling asphalt in front of them. There’s a beautiful little strand of beach another twenty minutes down the road, the destination of today’s outing. He tries to focus on that, on getting there, on the serene peacefulness of their surroundings, but his eyes invariably keep flicking back to the mirror, to the large, empty white leather of the back seat.
Eventually they reach the turn-off, driving a short distance to the small parking area that fronts a gorgeous section of beach, the waves lapping endlessly at the pale sand. Callie lets Isaac out of his seat, and as he tears off towards the water with a joyous whoop she looks back at Ryan, reaching out and laying a hand on his shoulder, jolting him out of his contemplation of the rear view mirror.
He looks over at her, his expression somber and a little sad. “I miss them, Callie.”
She studies him for a moment, before nodding her head slowly. “I know love. I wish they were here too, but it’s not their time yet.”
Fetching a deep sigh, he nods his head in turn. “I know, I know, but I can’t help but feel like…”he trails off, gazing out at the endless surf that runs off out of sight in either direction. “It’s like there’s something missing. Like looking at a perfect painting that hasn’t been completely finished yet.”
She nods slowly, studying his face a moment before smiling. “It’s alright love. I feel the same way. Besides which…” she gazes out at the beach, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “Sometimes we still need our parents. For comfort, if nothing else.” She shifts a bit, eyes distant, as though listening to something only she can hear. “They’ve done great so far, done so much more than even I thought they’d be able to.” Looking back at him, she catches his eyes, holding them with her own. “They carry a lot of weight on their shoulders, and by doing so they limit those they can turn to for support. Support they need when they’re worried, or stressed, or scared. Support that a father can give.”
Ryan looks at her blankly, before realization begins to blossom. “Will they let me do that?
Callie nods slowly, giving that dazzling smile of hers. “They will. They sort of owe you, after all.”
He hesitates, face faltering. ”But what about you and Isaac…”
She squeezes his shoulder, cutting him off. “We’ll be here, love. You know how this place works, how time passes. ” She leans in, kissing him briefly, softly. “We’ll be here when you return.”
* * *
We’ll meet…beyond the shore…
We’ll kiss just like before…
The song plays faintly in the back of Ryan’s mind, echoing gently as it’s drowned out by a confusion of sensation.
Happy we’ll be beyond the sea…
And never again…I’ll go sailing….
Bobby Darin he thinks disjointedly. One of Callie’s favorites.
Something isn’t right. It feels like he’s lying on some strange bed, soft, yet slightly prickly along his arms. He can feel warmth, and after a prolonged period of sluggish contemplation he eventually links the feeling to the reddish hue that fills his vision. Blinking his eyes open he confirms his suspicions. It’s the sun, sitting high over head, radiating heat and light down upon him from a field of depthless blue.
That doesn’t seem right.
The last thing he remembers is cold, cold and darkness, not sunlight and warmth. The house, something about the house and dismal, dirty looking snow. Except, he does remember something warm. Afterwards. An ocean, and warmth and peace and… Blinking again he manages to sit upright, his thoughts dissolving into a confused haze. As his field of vision tilts and reorients, he’s greeted by a view that is both oddly familiar and strangely alien.
Grass, a deep verdant green, runs away from him to a point about a hundred yards distant, hemmed in on both sides by tall, mostly straight walls of mica flecked granite. The granite is spotted here and there in a patchwork of mosses and lichens, creating small, abstract mosaics of greens and browns in places.
Turning his neck with a creaking sound he gazes at one of the rock walls, lifting his eyes to take in what appears to be a forest over-topping it, tall pines and oaks and other tree’s he doesn’t recognize obscuring the horizon. Looking the other direction he sees more of the same, a plethora of trees, some of which he’s pretty certain shouldn’t be growing next to each other at all. Returning his gaze to the front, he finally notices the small flowering shrubs and bushes that line the base of the walls. They seem to grow randomly along either side, but not in the middle, leaving a wide, clear ribbon of emerald green that seems to run headlong into some sort of dark grey obstruction in the distance.
Taking a deep breath he leans forward, rising shakily to his feet. He braces for the jolt of pain he knows is coming, his knees old, tired complaint. However as he stands fully upright he grunts in surprise. It doesn’t come. Glancing down at the limb in question he picks his right foot up slightly, bending it back and forth, marveling a little at how normal it feels. There’s no pain at all, no throbbing, no stiffness. For more years than he cares to recount there’s always been something from that particular joint. Even when it wasn’t hurting he still had an awareness of it, a feeling that something was just a little off, a feeling of bulk. Now, nothing.
“Huh.” He smiles a little, giving his right leg a few kicks. It feels like it did before the accident. How about that?
Looking around again, he studies the rock walls on either side of him, nodding in agreement with himself a minute later. He’s pretty certain that this is his canyon, the distinctive granite and general shape are pretty hard to mistake. He shakes his head at the differences.
What in the hell is going on? Turning around, intending to see if the birch trees are still there, and further confirm what he’s already certain of, he comes face to face with a large, dark figure, looming over him menacingly, preparing to attack.
Taking a step backwards with a startled cry, his left foot tangles with his right, and he falls heavily onto his rear, his teeth clicking together with the impact. He looks up, shielding his face with one arm, and as he starts to make out his attacker his panic turns to confusion. The figure is tall, a mottled grey, and after looking for a moment longer, appears to be made out of stone. Blinking up at what he now recognizes to be a statue, he suddenly leans closer, his brow furrowed in scrutiny.
“What in the hell is going on?” he whispers to himself. It appears to be a statue of him, meticulously carved and almost life like in its detail. Regaining his feet he approaches cautiously, circling slowly as he studies the stone reproduction. It’s exquisitely done, and as he lays a wondering hand on one of its arms he almost expects to feel the cloth shirt rustle. Completing his circle, stopping again where he started, he stands back, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets as he watches this odd statue mock him.
His fingers brush against something tucked into the bottom of his pocket, and he fishes it out, holding it up and revealing a folded square of white. Unfolding it, he’s surprised to find that he’s holding a photograph, the one he found underneath the couch. The one missing from the album he packed for the girls. Turning it over, he sees writing on the reverse side of it in an angular and unfamiliar hand.
When daughters did of a father need,
Thou did provide both home and heart.
Now a father in want of daughters be,
For love, delivered are you from the dark.
Below that, in a far more familiar script, is another note.
Until we meet again upon the shore, my love.
He stares at it dumbfounded for a time, eyes roaming over the words again and again, until finally returning his gaze to the statue, absently noting the small number of pale trunks behind it, where the meandering vertical granite faces meet up.
Yep, this is his canyon alright.
Why is this his canyon? How in the hell had he gotten here? What had happened to it? And why in the name of all that is holy is there a very well done statue of himself standing in it? Glancing down at the base of the thing, he finally notices the wilted remains of what are, still, beautiful flowers poking out of a pair of rounded stone holders.
He stares for a moment longer, mind spinning as he tries vainly to find some sort of context or perspective into which this canyon and this statue belong. Eventually giving it up as a bad job, he takes one last look at the stone figures gently smiling face before shrugging and turning on his heel, stuffing the picture back into his pocket.
The whole thing puts him in mind of a cemetery for some reason, or a shrine, and he begins to make his way toward the grey obstruction that lies across the mouth of the canyon, his shoulder blades hunching involuntarily. He can feel that damn thing looking at him. It’s creepy.
Noticing a few stray blades of grass out of the bottom of his eye, he brushes absently at his shirt, stopping when his hand bumps across a lump in his breast pocket. He halts, looking down at himself, and fishes a battered red and white pack of cigarettes from it. It looks remarkably like the cheater pack he had stashed in the living room end table. He opens it, noting the folded, half used pack of matches tucked inside, a sense of déjà vu sweeping over him. He stares at it for a time, face blank. Then, with a slow blink, he re-pockets them and continues onward.
Approaching what he recognizes to be a finely crafted rock wall, he slowly makes his way towards the intricate wrought iron double gate set in the middle of it, eyes picking out a finely worked pair of symbols at its center; a wavy rayed sun, and a crescent moon. Those symbols are very familiar to him, and a suspicion begins to form in his mind, one that is bolstered by the figure he sees standing on the other side.
It looks like a small horse, its grey coat peeking out from beneath ceremonial looking golden armor. Its standing rigidly, back to him as it looks out across the small road that crosses from left to right. The soft grass muffles Ryan’s footsteps, and he walks up to within a few feet of the thing without being noticed. He studies the odd looking creature for a few moments with a bemused expression, noting that the crest on its helmet is the same white as its tail. Idly he wonders if the helmet crest is really a crest at all, or if this things mane has been styled and pushed out through a hole in the top.
Shaking his head and suppressing a laugh at the growing ridiculousness of his situation, he takes a deep breath, letting it out quietly before clearing his throat. The reaction from what he’s pretty certain is some sort of guard is both immediate, and hilarious. Its ears flick backwards a split second before it jumps straight up, spinning about even as it lands facing him. Its overly large, bronze colored eyes are almost impossibly wide with surprise, and it emits a high pitched squeak when they focus on him.
The sound is too much. The canyon, the statue, the picture, the damned pack of smokes in his shirt pocket. The little equine guard in old fashioned looking armor. That tiny, high pitched squeak is the icing on the cake. Ryan throws his head back, bellowing laughter at the sky. He simply cannot help himself.
His laughter cuts off as he feels himself lifting slowly into the air, his arms locked at his sides. Frowning, he looks down, noticing a shimmering light enveloping his chest and arms. His bare arms. “Huh.” He grunts in surprise. “That’s new.” Looking back to the guard, he sees for the first time a short horn, the same shade of grey as its coat and enveloped in a similar glow. The little horse yells over its shoulder in a strange voice, its words an incomprehensible mix of sounds and tones that make no sense to Ryan. There is an answering call from down the path, and a second guard comes galloping in from the left, skidding to a halt in a spray of dust and small stones as it takes in the scene.
The two hold what sounds like a terse conversation before the first one glares up at Ryan. It says something in a questioning tone, which Ryan answers with a shrug. “I don’t understand you.”
Both guards watch him suspiciously before speaking rapidly back and forth to each other. The second one performs a funny sort of salute and turns, galloping back in the direction it had come from. Watching it depart, a small rooster tail of dust growing in its wake, he looks back at his impromptu captor, one brow lifting quizzically. It growls something in a low and threatening tone, body tense, head lowered enough that it can keep its stubby looking horn pointed at the middle of his chest yet still watch him.
Ryan fidgets a little, testing to see how far he can move his arms. He has a notion to pull the photograph from his pocket and show it to the little unicorn, but it appears to have a solid grip on him. His attempts cause the guard to bark out something that sounds like a command, and he finally gives up. Sighing, he relaxes, looking down to meet its eyes. “So, uh…what happens now?”
* * *
Ryan marches through the opulent hallways, or rather is marched, staring in wonder at the beauty of it all even as he’s hurried past everything. The six guards surrounding him follow the lead of the dark blue stallion marching purposefully at the head of their little procession, the filtered light of the hall reflecting dazzling patterns from his ornate and complicated armor as they sweep down broad corridors lined with fluted columns, past grand statues and intricate, colorful tapestries. The muted click of the shackles binding his wrists together provides a subtle counterpoint to the businesslike clip-clop of hooves against the black veined marble floors.
The interior of the palace is fantastical, almost fairy tale-like, richly appointed while avoiding, if just barely in some cases, being gaudy. He’d love to slow down and take in the amazing architecture, pause and look at the panoramic view offered by some of those arching floor to ceiling windows, but the guards escorting him have different ideas. His rump still smarts a little from the prodding one of them gave him when he tried to slow down earlier. The occupants of the palace garner almost as much attention from him as the building itself. They’ve passed scores of colorful little equines, singly and in groups, most standing, some even hovering on the beats of what seem to be disproportionately small wings, much to his wide eyed amazement. They peer at him from crossing hallways and open doors, all wide eyes and slack jaws. As he stands twice as tall as the encircling ring of guards they all get a good eyeful.
He imagines they must be some sort of servants or court functionaries or the like. Several times he’s seen what look like ceremonial uniforms, while others wear more normal looking, if still odd clothing. He’s pretty certain he even saw one wearing a top hat of all things. That had almost made him stop in his tracks again, and if he wasn’t keen on avoiding any more prodding from the rear guard he probably would have.
Eventually they come to a junction of corridors, the wide one they’ve been traveling meeting a smaller crossing hallway. Set in the middle of the opposing wall is a large set of wooden double doors, easily twice as tall as he is. Dark and polished to a mellow gleam, they are intricately carved with a number of symbols that mean nothing to him. Inset in the center, however, are two symbols that he is exceedingly familiar with, the same two that adorned the wrought iron gate back at the canyon; a wavy rayed sun and a crescent moon. Looking over the door and its carved and gilded molding, he lets out an impressed breath.
His girls seem to have done pretty good for themselves.
Some sort of functionary or attendant stands outside the great portal, a soft yellow creature with a seafoam green mane and tail, wearing a vest. Ryan looks her over, but can’t find any hint of wings or a horn. Interesting. She’d watched them approach with wide eyes, and it takes the stallion in charge a couple of tries to get her attention. Meeting his gaze, the two speak quietly in that strange, melodic language, before she motions towards the doors, one of which swings open wide enough to admit the group without them having to break their formation.
Stepping inside, the door swinging silently shut behind him, Ryan looks around, letting out a low, appreciative whistle which earns him a half hidden smirk from one of his guards. The room is large and well lit, delicate ivory pillars spaced along either side rising to meet the vaulted ceiling high overhead. Detailed and beautiful stained glass windows set in intricately carved molding march along both walls, reaching from floor to ceiling, the multihued light straining thought them casting fanciful and irregular patterns of brightness that overlap a wide runner of red carpet bordered in darker crimson. His eyes following the runner as it flows down the center of the room, and he takes in some kind of tall golden dais where it terminates at the far end of the chamber. A pair of dais’s actually, for situated next to the golden one is a similar affair wrought in dark blue stone.
Only one dais is currently occupied however, and it is that occupant that draws his complete and total attention. A large white alicorn sits primly atop the ornamental seat, the alabaster of her coat standing out against the deep red of the cushions. Most of her face is hidden behind what looks, fittingly enough given the rest of the place, to be a roll of parchment.
He can see some sort of golden crown perched above her horn, a large, complicated necklace or chest plate, and what appears to be a set of matching golden slipper…things on her hooves. It is not the jewelry, fine though it is that steals his attention though. Rather, it is the figure that is wearing it, and it is that figure that makes him stop dead in his tracks, causing the guards behind to come up short unexpectedly, and those in front to half turn with menacing looks.
He doesn’t have to see her face to know that a pair of rose hued eyes are scanning intensely over whatever it is that she’s reading, her lips likely compressed into a line as she focuses. Likewise he doesn’t have to see her side profile to know that while her face is all concentration, her wings will be fidgeting, just a touch, or that there will be a wavy rayed sun adorning each flank. He’d know her from any distance, any angle. It’s her, it’s his Celestia Marie. He had rather expected to find one or both of them at the end of this strange little journey, but to finally see his daughter, to see her alive and safe and by all evidence thriving…to see her in the flesh stops the breath in his throat, and for a moment all he can do is drink in the sight of her.
She’s changed. Changed a lot. True, it’s something to be expected after however long it seems to have been, but expected or not it’s still a shock. She’s larger than the last time he saw her, taller. He suspects he’d have to look up a little to meet her eyes, a concept he’s not too sure if he likes or not. However tall she’s gotten, by far the biggest change and the largest shock, is her mane and tail. Gone are the delicate shades of pink, replaced by some prismatic, ethereal thing that never seems to hold still.
The pink is still in there, but it’s now bordered by a veritable rainbow, a full riot spectrum of colors that flow gently away from her head and neck, billowing softly to one side. He manages to tear his eyes away from it just long enough to check for an open window or a fan, something to explain the constant motion, but can’t see anything that stands out, and he frowns a little. This isn’t a commercial, hair doesn’t just flow because it’s pretty.
So caught up is he in the moment and the sight of her that it barely registers when the lead guard approaches the dais, bowing low and speaking words that don’t mean anything to Ryan. His shock is competing with his disbelief, the surrealism of the situation threatening to lift him up and carry him away. It is when she responds in an absent tone to the guard that he comes crashing back to himself. Funny sounding language or no, her voice is unmistakable, and it is that voice that cements him in the here and now, that brings it all home and verifies that all of this is really happening.
Unconsciously he takes a step forward, unaware of the warning looks he’s receiving from the surrounding guards. Clearing his throat quietly, he takes another step, the shackles binding his hands and feet clinking with a muted sound, his mouth working a little before he finds his voice.
* * *
“Highness, this is the intruder we captured.”
Celestia flicks one ear absently in the Guard Captain’s direction, silently acknowledging his presence. She’ll deal with whatever fresh distraction has currently been presented to her in a moment, but this proposal from the Griffin Kingdoms requires her full attention. They were suggesting a series of alterations to the current trade agreement between the two nations, and for a change they were being reasonable in their proposals. That’s what has her back up. They were being too reasonable. Long experience has taught her that when a griffin offers you a fair deal, it’s only to distract you while his friend steals your coin purse. After reading and re-reading, she feels she’s just on the cusp of understanding what they’re really after.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment, Guard Captain.” She squints at the document, silently bidding it to reveal its true intentions. She would have to go over their proposal line by line, pick it apart word by word. Ordering the Ministry of the Interior to provide a report would be a good idea as well. But there was something about this particular section, right after the mention of fishing rights. Something about the way it was worded…
“Tia?”
She rustles a wing absently, eyes pouring over the flowery, elaborate prose in which the damnable thing was penned.
“Tia Marie?”
“I said just a moment. I’m almost done…with…” She trails off as realization slowly dawns on her, causing her to stop mid-sentence. She’s answering in English, in response to a question in that same language. A language that hadn’t been spoken by anybody other than her and her sister for millennia. A language that no longer existed outside of their respective personal libraries. A language that was, for all intents and purposes, dead. This realization is followed closely by a second, and her wings tense up a little.
That hadn’t been the Guard Captain’s voice.
Slowly lowering the parchment until she can see over the top of it, she takes in the ring of guards surrounding a tall, bipedal figure. Shock begins to slowly wash over her as she really takes in its features. A brown linen shirt, buttoned up the front and tucked into dark blue jeans, a pair of hiking boots peeking out from beneath the bottom cuffs. The wrinkles surrounding the dark brown eyes, the salt-and-pepper hair, the disbelieving smile now wreathing that all too familiar face.
A perfect image of her father.
“What is this?” She asks, her voice coming out in a husky whisper. She feels like she’s been hit in the head with a mallet made out of putty. Not taking her eyes from the impossible apparition before her, she turns her head slightly to address the captain of the guard. “Captain, what is this?”
Looking suddenly uncertain, the captain clears his throat roughly before returning a hesitant answer. “This…is the intruder we told you of, Majesty. The one we, uh, captured in the Royal Preserve.”
“You told me it was a diamond dog.” Celestia says flatly, the shock that is still settling over her beginning to transform into a growing heat.
“I assumed it was, Highness.” Glancing over his shoulder at their captive, he looks back to his regent once more with a quizzical expression. “What else could it be?”
The two legged figure in the middle of the group wrinkles his brow, tilting his head a little to one side before speaking. “Celestia, sweetheart, it’s me, it’s…” He’s cut off by sudden movement from the dais.
Lunging to her feet, Celestia marches quickly down the steps, scattering the guards and stopping in front of the creature that’s impersonating her father. Her anger is threatening to turn into a boiling rage, an all consuming fire befitting the celestial body for which she’s responsible. The thing before her shies back from the heat in her eyes. “What is this?” She asks coldly, her voice at odds with her blazing gaze, her face hard and commanding.
Blinking, the creature looks at her with confusion. “Tia, honey, I can’t understand what you’re saying.”
Switching to English, she moves almost nose to nose with the wretched impostor. “What. Is. This.” She repeats. The guards surrounding them go tense, picking up on her tone even if they can’t understand the weird, guttural language she and the thing are speaking. They begin to circle in closer, assuming combat stances as they watch its every move.
“Tia…it’s me. It’s…” He’s cut off again as he’s lifted bodily from the floor, enveloped from head to toe in a powerful nimbus of amber light.
“You will be silent!” Celestia roars, drawing a startled gasp from one of the encircling guards. Turning her furious gaze to the captain, she notices his wide eyed expression is growing increasingly fearful. Taking a deep breath, and then another, she closes her own blazing magenta orbs for a moment, before addressing the captain in a more controlled voice. “When you captured this…thing, did you cast the new divination spell on it?”
Regaining his composure, the guard glances at the suspended biped, nodding his head. “Yes Majesty, we scanned it three times. It’s not a Changling, nor anything else that we can detect. As far as we can tell, this…being isn’t especially magical at all.”
Nodding, Celestia draws the creature closer, casting a quick divination spell herself. The captain is right, this…whatever it is, isn’t a Changling. She cannot find any magical ability, save for the same base magical essence that all creatures share. “Captain Silverwing, send two of your officers to check the statue garden at once.”
Listening half-heartedly as the captain begins issuing his orders, she studies the being before her with an intense scrutiny. “I don’t know who or what you are, but I know what you’re not.” She says in English, her voice soft and dripping with deadly intent. “My father died over two thousand years ago. You are not him. I don’t know what your game is, but I will find out, and when I do, I will make you regret that you ever had the audacity to commit this…foolishness.”
The creature looks down at her with her father’s eyes, its features growing still, its brow slowly furrowing, not in confusion, but what she can only assume is anger of its own. Good, maybe if it’s angry it will let slip what this is all about. Looking away in contempt, she seeks out the next ranking officer present, intending to order a cell prepared.
“Celestia. Marie. Williams.”
The voice is steady and without inflection, that calm tone that still manages to convey deep displeasure, and that brings back unpleasant memories of being in really big trouble, causing the flesh between her wings to tighten up involuntarily. She looks back at the thing, a little surprised that it could pull such an emotional response from her. What she sees takes her aback.
Not anger, but fury. This thing is hanging before her, completely helpless, wearing her father’s face, and that face is furious.
“I have had enough of this nonsense.” It says in that tone of voice she remembers so well. “I don’t know what has become of you, for however long it has been. But this will stop, and it will stop right. Now.”
“How dare you.” She hisses back, her own anger flaring. “How dare you come into my kingdom, pretending to be him, and talk to me like that. I promise you, you will rue the…”
The figure glares at her, and despite herself she cuts off in mid sentence. “Young lady that is enough. I didn’t raise you like this, and I sure as hell will not accept this type of behavior from you now. I don’t give a damn if your empress of the largest talking horse kingdom in existence. I have been poked, prodded, pushed, shackled, and one of those damn guards tried to stab me in the ass on my way here.” The figure takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly, nostrils flaring. “It has been a long and ridiculous day already, Celestia Marie, and I am not in any mood for your nonsense on top of it.”
Standing up straighter, Celestia makes a conscious effort to un-flatten her ears and loosen her wings. Whatever this thing is, it’s eerily good, and she begins to consider how dangerous this situation may truly be.
The expression of displeasure and disappointment, the flat tone that still somehow spoke of anger. That it could have such an effect on her…for a moment, as it had started addressing her, she hadn’t been Princess Celestia, co-regent of Equestria and raiser of the sun. For a brief moment, she had been Tia Marie, six years old and in trouble for breaking those two picture frames in the living room because she was roughhousing with her sister. The two picture frames, she was informed as she stared miserably down at her hooves, that had held the only surviving copies of his wedding photos.
That this thing could have such an effect on her, could have that sort of influence over her emotions, that it could pull at them so successfully…this was a dangerous situation indeed.
“You give yourself away by your very existence, creature.” She spits, eyes narrowing once more as she rallies herself. “My father was non-magical, a thaumic void, as were all of his kind.” She nods to the magically bound and floating man-thing. “I can read you, deceiver. I can feel the base magic that makes up your being, the same as any other plant or animal in this world. I’m touching you with it.” She snorts angrily, feelings she had long ago made peace with swelling and bubbling within her.
Glancing down at itself, the creature makes an effort at a shrug, hampered by the way its limbs are restricted. It huffs in frustration. “Well, you got me there.”
“Enough.” She cuts him off, voice deadly, her breath a bit labored. Fighting to regain her bearing, she looks at the prisoner with a scorn that’s only partially affected. “My father is dead. You cannot be him, it isn’t possible.” She snarls, pain and outrage flitting briefly across her features.
The figure studies her for a long moment, and as it does its face softens, the anger draining swiftly away. It meets her gaze steadily, its eyes growing a little sorrowful. Finally it takes a deep breath, holding it in briefly before letting it out in a gust. “Your middle name.” He says simply, quietly.
“What of it?”
“You’re named after your Grandma Williams. Your sister is named after your Grandma Anders. I found the two of you hiding in between the birch trees in the canyon when you were little. I used to make you pancakes for breakfast every Saturday morning.”
Fetching another deep sigh, the creature looks down, its expression growing wistful. “You both started learning how to fly when you were eight, and your sister was seven. When Luna was eight she sprained her leg. She tried to blame it on you. When you were fourteen you started getting headaches, and eventually we learned that was because of your magic. You also tried to hide how bad those headaches were, and the dreams, from me.” He frowns at her for a second, before continuing. “A couple of months later you nearly burned the house down trying to bake a cake.”
Celestia looks at the figure, struggling to keep her expression neutral. “All of that could have been obtained through scrying. You’d better have a more impressive trick up your sleeve.” It would have had to have been extremely skilled scrying, to be sure, and over a very long period of time. The likelihood of a magical practitioner being able to pull off such a thing undetected was actually pretty slim, and despite her better judgment, her anger begins to slip away, leaving behind a solid core of doubt that she clings to like a lifeline. There is no way this thing is really her father, it simply cannot be.
The figure sighs again, searching her face before nodding to himself. “After…when you woke up in the shelter, you should have found some things I packed in your saddle bags. One of those things was a photo album. Did you?” He smiles gently at her slow nod. “Good, I’m glad to know that made it. Inside that photo album, about midway through, are some pictures from my birthday one year. One of those pictures is missing, correct?”
She nods again, her doubt beginning to splinter and erode away, to be replaced by that slow, creeping shock once again. Only two others knew about that photo album, her sister, and her student. Even now it sat wrapped in cloth in the bottom of a silk lined trunk in her chambers. The album, cloth and trunk were all enspelled in a keeping to preserve them. To open the trunk, to unwrap the cloth, was to break the keeping, which had to be recast every time. The last time she had removed the album she had broken her own spell, the weaving and final casting of her own work easily recognizable to her, and she had had to subsequently recast the whole thing when she put it back.
Nobody else could have accessed that trunk without her knowing about it.
“I found the photo after… after I left you two. It had fallen off of the coffee table and ended up under the couch.” He nods towards his legs. “It’s in my front right pocket.”
A clatter of hooves announces the return of two guards. “Majesty, we’ve checked the statue garden, and…”
She holds up one wing, cutting off the guards report, studying the…creature, peering into its eyes, trying with all of her centuries of experience and accumulated political savvy to detect even the faintest trace of deception.
She sees only honesty. Sincerity.
Manipulating the flows of energy connected invisibly to her horn, she frees the beings right hand, nodding towards his pants pocket in answer to his questioning look. She feels a pit form in her stomach as he reaches in and draws forth a folded square of bright white, holding it out to her. Taking it in a flow of amber light, she unfolds it, gazing down at the glossy picture, a photograph of exceeding sharpness and clarity that far outstrips the current state of the art in modern day Equestria. The pit in her stomach yawns larger and larger, eroding her doubt until, helplessly, she falls into it, her body going numb. There is a soft thump in front of her followed by a muffled grunt as the creature is released from her magical grasp, landing upright on the carpeted runner.
“Captain Silverwing.” Her voice is strange to her ears, husky and just barely audible.
“Yes…Highness?” He answers, her sudden shift in demeanor causing him to hesitate.
“Clear the throne room, please.”
The captain stares at his regent for a long moment. “Majesty?”
The solar diarch doesn’t’ look up from her study of the picture. “Clear the throne room captain, yourself included. Immediately.”
Slowly the captain motions the guards and other occupants towards the entryway, throwing a worried and bewildered look at his princess every few plodding steps. Not noticing as the guards and assembled functionaries’ crowd out through the door in a confused clatter of hooves and the nervous rustling of wings, she finally looks up when the door has swung completely closed. Turning wide, glistening eyes from the picture to the man standing shackled before her, her breath catches in her throat for a moment, her eyes roaming his form as she struggles to speak.
“…Daddy?”
His shackles jingle quietly, the sound unnaturally loud in the suddenly still air of the throne room. He brings his bound hands up to wipe gently at the moisture that’s beginning to run down her cheeks, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth and deepening the crow’s feet around his eyes. “Hello, dearheart.”
* * *
Captain Silverwing stood his post rigidly outside of the royal throne room, the semi-constant motion of his ears the only outward sign of his anxiousness. One of several Guards Captain, Silverwing had been promoted rather early for one with so relatively little time in service, his performance reviews always citing ‘duty above and beyond expectations’. There was talk he was being groomed to eventually replace Commander Bulwark . As a Guard Captain, his duty mainly involved overseeing several regiments of the royal guards, tending to the day to day details of keeping his troops in good fighting order, creating and disseminating watch rotations and patrol schedules in conjunction with the five other Guards Captain, enforcing discipline and issuing reprimands, and the other various and sundry minutiae of running part of a larger military whole.
Despite his comparatively short time in service, Silverwing had seen a lot in the line of duty, from border skirmishes and diamond dog raids to the return of Nightmare Moon, and most recently the Changling Incursion. He’s watched his regents deal with any number of sinister issues and unexpected emergencies. As a high ranking member of the Guard he had seen them both in just about every type of situation imaginable, and he was cautiously sure he was one of only a hoof-ful of ponies who could say that he had a reasonably good understanding of Their Majesties, particularly his solar diarch.
In the performance of his duties he has seen his princess frustrated, he has seen her incensed, he has seen her mischievous and he has seen her sorrowful. Above all, however, he has seen her calm. In whatever manner she may react after the fact, she has always confronted every problem and issue placed before her with a stoic sort of reserve, had been a source of stability, in the face of every situation, that helped other ponies keep their cool under stressful circumstances. Today, however…he has never seen her like she was today. He’s seen her truly angry on rare occasions, but this was so far beyond anger he’s not even sure what to call it.
To see her furious, so suddenly and completely, to see actual loathing in her blazing eyes… He’s always been respectful of the royalty, awed even, especially by both of Her Majesties. This is the first time he’s ever been afraid of one of his rulers, the first time he’s ever been disturbed by her reactions. It had been frightening enough to see her slip into such an icy, almost hateful anger, but even more chilling was what came afterwards. He didn’t know why that weird mutant diamond dog had made her react so, nor did he care what it was they were discussing in that strange, harsh sounding language. But at the end, just before she’d ordered everypony out of the throne room…
He’s never seen his regent truly afraid, either, and try as he might, he cannot convince himself that what he saw on her face as she gazed at that weird scrap of paper was anything other than fear.
By the Divine Sisters, he never wishes to see such a thing again.
A scraping sound draws his attention, and one half of the door cracks open. He spins, head lowering a little, eyes locked on the doorway, prepared to face whatever is waits within. He’s taken by surprise, then, when Princess Celestia’s voice drifts out, summoning him. Entering cautiously, his eyes scan the interior, seeking out and locking onto the strange thing standing beside Her Majesty. Oddly, its eyes are red and wet looking, as if it’s been crying. Glancing at his regent he’s alarmed to see her in the same state. One of the things paws rests on Princess Celestia’s neck, and he growls under his breath at its audacity. Taking a menacing step forward, readying to teach the creature a lesson for its presumed familiarity with the sun princess, he’s shocked to stillness when she glances at him and speaks.
“Captain Silverwing, good. Spread word throughout the ranks. Hence forth, our…guest here, is to be treated with every courtesy, and given every accommodation. He is to receive anything that he requests, without question, and is to be shown the same honor and respect that my sister and I receive.”
Silverwing has always been a pony of discipline. It’s one of the reasons he’s advanced as early and often as he has throughout his career, and is in fact something he has prided himself on. All of his discipline and self-control, however, cannot stop his jaw from dropping open, nor can it keep a stutter from his voice as he answers. “Ma…Majesty?”
She says something to the creature in that odd language, and it chuckles quietly, trying to hide a smile behind one misshapen paw. “You heard me correctly, Captain. Also, fetch my Chamberlain, and inform her that, for the next day at least, all royal functions, meetings, and courts that are not of the utmost importance are canceled. Then have her send somepony up to my chambers with an assortment of foods, some tea, and a bottle of Ice Wine from the cellar. The best vintage we have.”
Turning away from the stunned captain, she and the creature begin making their way towards a smaller exit hidden from view behind the Royal Dais. “Oh, and have somebody wake my sister and tell her to meet us in my rooms.” She glances back over her shoulder, and a familiar impish grin spreads across her muzzle. “But don’t tell her what’s happened. I want it to be a…surprise.” She giggles mischievously as they exit through the doorway.
* * *
Luna walks groggily up the wide spiral staircase, trying to blink residual sleep from grainy eyes. The summons had been abrupt, and very vague. Her sister wanted to see her immediately on a matter of some importance, but hadn’t wanted to say what, other than a promise that the situation wasn’t dire.
Stopping finally in front of the sun carved doors she hesitates, deliberating slowly for a moment before simply pushing the portal open with a flare of her horn. Celestia had awoken her, after all, and currently she doesn’t feel that something as polite as knocking is warranted.
Stepping inside, she searches around the plush interior of the large apartments, finding nothing of note. Faintly she can hear a voice from the other side of the room, and looking in its direction she can see a wash of sunlight falling across the floor from around the corner, coming from the balcony.
Taking a few steps closer she stops, listening as she catches the sound of her sister speaking, not feeling the least bit guilty for eavesdropping. Padding on quiet hooves, she strains to make out some part of the conversation, her ears swiveling forward. Who is she talking to, anyway?
“So I leaned forward and looked him right in the eye, and I said to him, ‘Say the word bananas to me, one more time. I bucking dare you’.” Laughter drifts into the room, her sister’s chime-like giggles mixing with a deeper baritone that almost sounds familiar. Is she with some stallion? Possibly one of the nobles?
Something about the words being spoken bothers Luna, and after perhaps a moment longer than it should have taken her, her mind finally catches up to the information her ears have been receiving. English? Is that English they’re speaking?
Her sister is out on the balcony, telling some story or other, in English? She can’t remember the last time either one of them actually used that tongue. Furrowing her brow, Luna cocks her head, ears standing straight up as she focuses on the conversation outside. She couldn’t have possibly heard that correctly.
The laughter dies down after a moment, and she can hear the muted clink of glasses. “Well, after that the union representative suddenly decided that maybe it was extortion after all, which might not be such a good idea. They were back to work by the end of the day.”
Luna blinks owlishly, a frown creasing her features. She is hearing correctly, but why would Celestia be telling a story in English? The other laugh certainly didn’t come from Twilight Sparkle. Has she been teaching somepony else on the side? “Sister?” She calls out, deciding she’d very much like to get to the bottom of whatever this is and just get back to bed, while she still can.
“We’re out here, Luna.” Her sister’s cheerful voice calls back.
There is a shifting from out on the balcony, and Celestia meets Luna just as she rounds the corner. Luna peers blearily past her sister’s shoulder, but she can’t see who else might be out there. All she can make out is a round table covered in food, and an open wine bottle poking out from behind the squat shape of a pitcher. Focusing back on her older sister, Luna blinks in confusion. “Tia, what’s this all about? Is everything alright?”
Her sister gives her a strange look, one that is an odd combination of giddiness and apprehension. “Luna, something has happened. Something amazing, and impossible, and…and…” She trails off, glancing back towards the open balcony doorway before turning again to meet Luna’s eyes. “Look, there’s somebody out there that you need to see, but I have to talk to you about him first.”
Luna rolls her eyes with a weary sigh. “Tia, I’m happy you found a special somepony, and I’ll get around to meeting him, I promise. But this could have waited. I was sleeping, after all.”
“What? Oh, no, no no no.” Celestia answers quickly, her eyes widening. “No, trust me, it’s not that. Look, I need to tell you what happened today, and I need you to hear me out completely before you react. He’s had sort of a rough time of it already, and I… didn’t do much to help that.” She leans forward, her eyes at the same time serious and earnest. “I need you to trust me, sister. Can you do that?”
Luna studies her older sibling’s face, carefully reading her expression. Celestia is being completely open and honest, and she’s acting strangely anxious, almost jumpy, like a nervous school filly. Where is her bearing, her royal reserve? Confused, and growing more than a little concerned, Luna settles back on her haunches, giving her wings a quick stretch before tucking them along her sides. She has a bad feeling about this for some reason. She locks eyes with her older sister, her voice tense. “If this is some sort of prank, sister, so help me…” As Celestia shakes her head, Luna relaxes. Fetching a sigh, she nods. “Alright, go ahead.”
Celestia throws another quick glance over her shoulder before taking a deep breath. “Thank you. Now, don’t overreact, but…”
* * *
The view is…stunning. Stunning is the word that Ryan wants. Stunning, with maybe some approximation of awe inspiring. It’s beautiful, at any rate. The city glistens below in the waning sunlight, fancifully shaped and elegant buildings of grey and white stone set along curving avenues, all laid out like a creative child’s fantastical miniature. Tiny colorful dots move to and fro along the streets and through the air above it, the whole setting framed by the gorgeous landscape behind. The rolling green of the hills, the dark, craggy, snow capped mountains to the east. The dun smear of some forest, he thinks Tia called it the EverFree, off to the west, a glittering little gem of a town nestled right next to it, just barely visible. Distant rivers and waterways shimmer like jeweled belts, wending their individual ways across a lush and overwhelmingly living landscape.
Inside the…palace? Castle? What exactly is this place, anyway? He’ll have to ask when they come back out on the balcony. Back inside Tia’s rooms he can hear the strains of an excited sounding conversation, maybe even an argument. It’s in that strange, melodious language that puts him in mind of bird song, so it’s difficult to tell. Despite not being able to understand a single word of it however, he can clearly make out Luna’s voice, her tone and timber unmistakable to his ears. His overwhelming instinct is to go to her, to wrap her and her sister up in his arms and never let go.
Instead he makes himself lean back, taking in the panoramic view before him and sipping from a glass of dark red wine. Ice Wine, Tia had called it, and while he’s never been much for the stuff he has to admit it’s excellent, sweet and spicy, with just a hint of bitter after taste. Celestia had told him to wait while she tries to explain the situation to Luna, and after their ordeal in the throne room he’s inclined to let her handle this in her own way.
The voices begin rising in volume, the incomprehensible words drifting out through the open doorway to mix with the bright, warm air. In actuality it sounds nothing at all like birdsong, that’s just the closest approximation he can come up with. The individual words are difficult to pick out when spoken rapidly - such as he’s hearing now - the sounds seeming to merge and flow together in a most amicable fashion. It’s rather pleasant to listen to, in a way.
An actual bird flits past, alighting on the edge of the short semicircle of stone that encloses the balcony. Ryan frowns at it, trying to place its species. It’s definitely not a sparrow or blue jay or any of the other types that should inhabit a mountainous desert region, but then again this isn’t exactly a desert anymore. Is it some kind of lark, maybe? The bird cocks its head to one side, eyeing him right back in a surprisingly direct manner. Behind him the voices grow louder, very identifiable anger beginning to color their speech, and he begins contemplating whether or not he should poke his head in there or refill his wine glass.
As a father his parental instinct is to break it up before it gets out of hand, but…they’re both adults now. Rulers even, and he’s pretty certain that if they can construct some sort of super pony civilization, than they can probably…
“Because it isn’t possible Tia!”
“I’m telling you, I checked him myself!”
“Then you’re obviously mistaken!”
The bird disappears in a frantic flapping of wings, leaving behind only a small off-color splatter against the white stone to show it was ever there. Sighing, Ryan tilts his head back, finishing his wine in a single swallow and rising to his feet. That wasn’t pretty birdsong language, that was English, and he takes it as a bad sign that they’ve dropped back into it to shout at each other. Setting the glass down he takes a moment to make sure his shirt is still tucked all the way in, then turns and strides through the arched doorway.
Inside he stops for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the relative dimness as he takes in the scene before him. Both of his girls are standing at the corner that marks the bend between balcony doorway and bedroom proper, nose to nose, wings partially flared, their legs rigid. Celestia’s ethereal mane is snapping in its non-existent breeze, matched only by Luna’s, which seems to boil atop her head, their eyes flashing. This…is not good. They’ve gotten into spats before, but he can’t remember ever seeing them quite like this.
Considering for a moment how best to proceed, Ryan decides on the old standby, and settles into his sternest Dad expression before clearing his throat loudly. The effect is instantaneous, and more than a little comical. Celestia freezes, her eyes going wide, her wings flinching slightly, looking for all the world like he just caught her sneaking sweets before dinner. Luna’s eyes snap up instantly, looking past her older sister’s shoulder and locking onto him. He glimpses a great deal of anger and pain on her face, and a little bit of fear as well, before shock wipes it all from her countenance. Her teal eyes open so wide it’s a wonder they don’t roll right out of her head, and he manages to keep his composure, if only just.
“Girls,” He starts out, frowning, “there is no need to carry on like this. Half of the…castle or whatever, has probably heard the two of you by now.”
Tia spins around, embarrassment heating her cheeks. “Dad, I asked you to let me…”
He raises a hand, cutting her off. “I know sweetheart, and normally I’d let you handle this your way, but all you two are doing is fighting, and it’s not helping anybody at the moment.” Studying her face for a few seconds, he nods to himself, motioning her to one side. As she moves a couple of paces over he steps towards Luna, who has straightened up and re-tucked her wings. Her eyes are still wide, and they’re starting to get a little wild looking.
Ryan stops a respectable distance from her, scratching at his chin for a moment as he looks her over. Like her sister, she too has grown a lot. She can just about look him in the eye, which is a far cry from the size she used to be. Also like her older sister, her mane has changed, has become ethereal and strangely wonderful, cascading away from her face and down her neck like a pool of liquid night sky bejeweled with stars. Her eyes are older, and he sees in them a sort of wisdom and experience that was never there before. The sight both fills him with pride and breaks his heart a little. She’s not his innocent little girl anymore. Neither of them are.
“Hey there, Lunabelle.” He says softly, a gentle smile on his face and in his voice.
She seems to flinch a little at that, inhaling sharply through her nostrils. Throwing a quick glance at her older sister, she begins to approach him slowly, eyes never leaving his face. With careful, measured steps she circles him, studying every facet and every angle, the only sound her steady breathing. Inhale through the nostrils, pause, exhale through the nostrils, her hooves nearly silent on the thick layered rugs that cover the floor.
Ryan glances over at Celestia, who watches tensely from a few feet away, her legs fidgeting. Eventually Luna circles back around, turning to face him directly. She leans in, her blue-green eyes searching his with a sort of frantic intensity, and he breathes in hints of lilac and jasmine, probably from her shampoo. He’s about to speak, when her gaze finally softens and her eyes grow moist. She hesitates for only a moment before leaning into him and laying her head along his shoulder, her eyes squeezed tightly closed as she inhales deeply.
“Daddy.” Her voice comes out husky with restrained emotion, not a question but a statement of fact.
Reaching up, he strokes along her neck, his fingers combing through the silky softness of her mane, which feels no different for all its radically altered appearance. “Hi sweetheart.”
“That’s it?” Celestia bursts out, going slack jawed. “After all of that arguing and your stubborn…that’s all the convincing you need?”
Pulling back, she smiles shyly up at her father before throwing a smirk at her apoplectic sibling. “I just know.”
* * *
“Wait, wait…so she cast some sort of, compulsion or whatever on this doll, and the whole town ended up rioting?”
“Well, not quite a riot, but pretty close.” Celestia chuckles, her cheeks heating a little. “She thought she needed to solve some problem before she wrote to me. Twilight can be…”
“A little obsessive.” Luna finishes for her older sister, levitating her wine glass to her lips.
“Yes, she can be a bit.” Tia nods, taking a drink from her own glass. “She is getting much better about it though.”
Ryan shakes his head, smiling. “She sounds like a pretty good kid.” Looking down at the little table, he swirls his drink in its glass meditatively, looking thoughtful. He glances back up, opening his mouth when his musing is interrupted by a knocking from within the room behind them.
Peering through the arched doorway, Celestia nods her head once. “Ah, that should be my Chamberlain.” She smiles at her father. “Excuse me for a moment.” Rising, she makes her way back into her apartments, calling out something that Ryan can’t understand.
Watching back through the doorway Ryan glances over at Luna. “Chamberlain?”
She nods. “Sort of like a chief attendant, or head personal assistant.” Stifling a yawn she leans back against her seat. “We both have one, although mine is asleep right now. Or at least, she should be.” Ryan looks her a question and she sighs softly. “Chamberlain Dazzler, my Chamberlain, is...very dedicated. And while I do appreciate all of her efforts, she’d likely work herself to death if I let her.” Luna shakes her head ruefully. “Last year I had to order her to take a vacation.”
Ryan snorts a little, trying to cover the noise by taking another sip of his wine. Luna raises an eyebrow at him, and he smiles, embarrassed. “Sorry sweetheart, it’s just that…well the names will take a little getting used to.” The names seem to range mostly from silly to downright ridiculous, but he isn’t going to say that. Funny sounding names or no, these are his daughter’s people and he’d be loath to be disrespectful.
“They translate a little strangely into English. They’re more poetic sounding in native Equestrian.” She answers, a touch of defensiveness creeping into her voice.
He reaches across the table, laying a hand apologetically on her foreleg. “I don’t mean to laugh honey.” He leans back into his seat, glancing out over the edge of the balcony to the city sprawling gloriously below. “It’ll just take me some time to adjust to everything. So much has changed, almost instantly. Yesterday this was all part of the Great Basin desert, and today it’s the seat of power for a thriving nation of ponies.” He sighs quietly, his eyes taking on a lost look. “So much has changed…”
Two sets of hoof falls approach the doorway, and Ryan and Luna look up to see Celestia stop at the threshold, a smaller pony at her side. The smaller figure, a light blue unicorn with dark blue mane and tail, dips her front half towards Luna, before straightening up and staring at Ryan. Her eyes match her coat, and she looks uncertainly at him, casting the occasional glance at either Luna or Celestia, as if seeking reassurance in their presence.
“Dad, this is my Chamberlain, Willow Wisp.” Tia gestures towards the mare with a hoof, speaking something in Equestrian. Willow bows slightly towards Ryan, answering in a quiet voice. “She’s going to set up some rooms for you.”
Ryan inclines his head towards the nervous looking pony. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Wisp.” He gives her a reassuring smile, which doesn’t seem to do much to set her at ease.
Luna speaks up briefly, after which the Chamberlain responds. “She says she looks forward to accommodating you, and that should you require anything you have but to ask for it.”
Ryan smiles, bowing his head again, before his brow begins to furrow. Looking over at his younger daughter he clears his throat. “How?”
She shoots him a confused glance. “How what?”
“How am I supposed to ask her for anything if I need a translator just for the introductions?”
Luna opens her mouth to answer, before stopping short, her own brow beetling. They both glance up at Celestia, finding a similar expression on her face. The elder sister clears her throat. “I… haven’t quite thought that far ahead.” Looking down at Willow Wisp, who by now is starting to look confused on top of nervous, she smiles brightly, speaking a few short words. The blue mare nods her head, bowing low again before turning and trotting back the way she came. Walking back out onto the balcony and taking her seat, she chuckles weakly. “We’ll figure that out.”
The trio sits quietly for a time, basking in the warmth of the sun and each other’s company. Eventually Luna breaks the silence by clearing her throat. “Dad?” He looks over at her and she clears her throat again. “I’m not entirely sure how to ask this, but…how did you get here?”
“Like I said honey,” he smiles gently at her, “I just woke up…”
“In the canyon, I know. But how…” Luna trails off, unsure of how to continue. Glancing at her sister, she sees the same questions reflected in her rose colored eyes. Luna leans forward, her voice hesitant. “Dad, what…what happened? After you left us? How…” She falters for a moment, throat working a little. “How are you even here right now?”
Ryan looks at her for a moment, brow beetling. “I’m not sure.” Frowning, his eyes take on a faraway look, his gaze sliding down to rest upon his wine glass. Idly he begins swirling the deep burgundy liquid, staring at it as if it might contain the answer to her question. And in a way, it might, for he opens his mouth again to speak, his voice hesitant and quiet.
“I remember…” he pauses, still frowning at his glass. “Snow…there was grey snow, piling up outside, starting to cover the truck. And it was cold, at first. It was cold and there wasn’t any power, but it didn’t really matter because of the rain.” He glances up, meeting both of their gazes, taking in their concerned looks. “It’s sort of fuzzy, like a dream I can’t quite remember.”
He returns his eyes to the wine glass in his hand, frown deepening. After a few moments of silence Luna opens her mouth to speak, cutting herself short when Tia nudges her, giving a surreptitious shake of her head.
Eventually Ryan begins speaking again, not really seeing the wine glass, his voice troubled and lost sounding. “I got caught. In the rain when it started, the fallout. After I closed up the shelter. I was sick….” He shudders a little in the warm sunlight cascading over the balcony, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I was sick, and I was…” He glances up at them, an odd, tight expression on his face. “Let’s just say I was very sick.”
The two royal sisters share an uneasy look, both able to fill in the part he isn’t saying, and Celestia leans forward, intent on telling him he doesn’t have to do this if he doesn’t want to. The lost quality of his voice both unnerves her and tears at her heart. She doesn’t want to hear about this, she decides. She’d already spent so much time agonizing over what probably befell their father after he left them for the last time. She doesn’t need to hear this, and neither does Luna.
“After I…was done being sick,” His face changes, the lost look leaving his features, replaced by a look of pleasant surprise, and she just stops herself from reaching a hoof across the table. “There was darkness, for a time, and then…something else. Someplace else.”
Luna leans forward again, her eyes riveted. “Where dad?”
Ryan looks up with an unfocused gaze, a gentle smile wreathing his face, a sort of sereneness coloring his voice that they have never heard before in all their long lives together. It’s unsettling, like their father isn’t even there with them in this moment. “Momma Callie says hello...”
Both sisters lean back in their seats, eyes wide. All is silent for a moment, before Ryan shakes his head, snapping suddenly back to the here and now with a bemused expression. “Like I said, it’s all pretty fuzzy. I was sick, then...not sick, and then I was here. I don’t really remember anything els…what’s wrong?”
Celestia comes back to herself first, sharing a wondering look with her sister before turning back to their father. “Nothing, dad. It’s…it’s okay if you don’t remember.” Taking a deep breath she gives her wings a little shake, resettling them along her back. “The important thing is that you’re here, now.” Smiling, she leans across the table, placing a soft kiss on his stubbled cheek. Beside her, Luna nods, smiling, before kissing his other cheek.
Ryan chuckles quietly. “Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right.” He reclines, hands folded across his stomach, gazing out over the balcony at the landscape below. An uneasy look comes suddenly over him, and he hesitates for a moment before speaking, for some reason having difficulty meeting either of their eyes. “So, Tia, sweetheart. You said earlier that…all of these ponies are…yours?”
“Well yes, mine and Luna’s, actually.” She smiles at Luna before turning a grin at him. “They’re our little ponies.”
Ryan swallows roughly, his face a little disbelieving as he glances at them. “All of them?” At their twin nods he closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking at the tabletop. “Both of you huh?” His voice grows a little strained as he uses his index finger to draw idle abstractions in a bit of spilled wine. “Look honey, it’s really none of my business, you and your sister are adults after all, but…”
Luna and Celestia share a puzzled look, before nodding for him to continue.
Clearing his throat, he finally manages to look up from the table, meeting their eyes with an uncomfortable grin. “So… different fathers, or...?”
Both sisters share another confused glance, before their eyes go wide.
“I beg your pardon?”
* * *
Knock Knock Knock.
“Mr. Williams? It will be starting soon, and your presence is required.”
Struggling with the ties that run down the side of his outfit, Ryan turns partially towards the door, calling back over his shoulder as he works. “Thanks Miss Wisp. I’ll just be…just be another moment…” Attempting to lift the overhanging fabric obstructing the view of his left side, without letting go of the damnable ties, Ryan twists, one voluminous sleeve catching on a stack of books perched on his night stand and sending them tumbling to the floor in a clatter. “Damnit!”
There is silence from the door, and a hesitant Willow Wisp finally noses it partially open, calling into the room again. “Do you require any assistance, Mr. Williams?”
Scowling at the folds of garment concealing his hands, he grunts absently. “No, I…wait. Yes, yes I do, actually.” Letting his hands drop in disgust, he turns towards the front door, attempting to smooth the frustration from his face. Celestia’s Chamberlain had grown more accustomed to his presence over the last week or so that he’s been in the palace, but she still seemed to be easily spooked by him. Not that he can really fault her for that, it seems to be an affliction that most of the ponies he meets suffer from. The only explanation he’s been able to come up with so far it that they’re intimidated by his height.
Trotting forward with a neutral expression, the sky blue unicorn takes a look at the open side of his outfit, her horn lighting up and beginning the process of correctly closing it before he can even tell her what the problem is. Making sure to keep his arm up and out of her way, he smiles appreciatively at her. “Thank you, Miss Wisp. I’d hate to be late because I can’t figure out how to properly dress myself.”
She makes a vague, noncommittal sound as she finishes up, the light of her horn winking out as she leans back to study her work. Nodding to herself, she meets his eyes with only a slight hesitation. “Will you require anything else Mr. Williams?”
“No, I think I’m all set.” He nods to her, bending slightly at the waist and smiling. “My thanks again, Miss Wisp.” She bows low to him, holding the pose for only a moment before turning and trotting back out of the room. Ryan suppresses a frustrated sigh.
He hates it when they bow, it makes him feel strange and out of place. Unfortunately, his close but undefined association with the Princesses seems to have caused most of the residents of the palace to approach him with a cautious attitude. Nobody knows quite what his real relationship with the two rulers is, but the fact that they spend so much time with him, that they seem almost to dote on him even, means that he must be somebody pretty important, and possibly influential. That means playing it safe where he’s involved, which unfortunately means a lot of bowing and scraping, almost as much as Tia and Luna receive. It’s enough to give a man indigestion.
Shaking his head to clear it, Ryan strides across the room to stand before the tall mirror set in the far corner. Checking that everything is hanging as close to correctly as it can be, he snorts in amusement. A royal banquet, his daughters had told him, tended to involve a lot more pomp and ceremony than a normal dinner would, and so necessitated more formal attire. They had been quick to point out that blue jeans and a buttoned shirt simply would not do. Ryan’s half convinced they just wanted an excuse to dress him up like the dolls they used to play with. They’d certainly had that amused glint in their eyes when they first made him try this ridiculous thing on.
Ryan snorts again, eyeing his reflection. He’s dressed in a long, blue robe type thing, bordered around the hem in thick bands of lighter blue, which hangs to just below his ankles. Extra fabric drapes down from the shoulders and hangs down from the elbows, covered in simple, boxy repeating patterns of silver thread. That it was a simple boxy pattern and not an abundance of hearts is something he counts as a small victory. Despite Tia explaining to him, over and over, that the familiar heart shape from their old world had become a symbol of life and vitality, in addition to the mushier concepts it used to represent, the thought of being decked out in the things was just a tad too ridiculous for him to accept.
The ties that close the whole getup are hidden in yet more folds of fabric that run down the sides. It was, he’d been told, an altered griffon Maira’ Tel, a ceremonial outfit worn by lower ranking griffon dignitaries. It had been altered to fit his bipedal frame, the wing and back leg openings had been sewn closed, and the whole thing had been dyed from its original tan color, which signified some sort of rank, to its current blue one, which as far as he’d been told didn’t signify anything. It was the only item of clothing they could find that would decently fit him on short notice.
The extra folds of fabric were meant to dress a griffon’s front and hind legs, partially concealing them while not restricting movement. On the more militaristic griffons it provided both form and function. On him it just looked silly.
Adjusting himself slightly, Ryan snorts again before turning towards the door leading to the hallway. When he had asked Luna why they couldn’t just remove the stupid bunches of extra material, she had told him that the thing would look too much like a robe, which wouldn’t be appropriate. When he’d pointed out that it already looked pretty much like a robe, she’d scoffed and rolled her eyes.
Luna had promised they would get around to making something more suitable for him to wear, but he’d seen the humor in her expression. He’d have to make doubly sure whatever they provided wasn’t some ridiculous color, or decked out in sparkles. Or both.
At the end of the short hallway that leads from the guest apartments to one of the main thoroughfares of the palace, he spies Chamberlain Dazzler waiting for him and grins. Ryan likes Miss Dazzler. Not that he doesn’t like Miss Wisp, but where Willow Wisp is quiet, reserved, and cautious around him, Dazzler is open and good natured, almost bordering on boisterous. She doesn’t seem to suffer from the same sort of hang-ups about him that other ponies do, and often traded good natured jabs with him, when she wasn’t ribbing him about something. She had also stopped bowing when he’d asked her to.
Ears swiveling at his slippered approach - and how embarrassing was it to be wearing slippers to a function like this - Dazzler turns, taking in Ryan’s appearance with a grin. “Good evening, Mr. Williams. You look very…dapper, tonight.”
Smirking at the sandy coated unicorn, Ryan grunts in displeasure. “I look like a damn fool, which is exactly how I feel.”
Eyes twinkling, Chamberlain Dazzler trots a quick circle around him, checking the outfit before taking a few steps back to take in the overall effect. “You do make for a very confused looking griffon,” she chuckles, giving him a wink. “But I think you’ll be fine. After all, no one knows what a human is supposed to wear to one of these things anyway.” Standing, she turns and trots out into the main hallway. “We should hurry, wouldn’t do for you to be late, after all.”
Catching up to her, he chuckles himself. “No, no I don’t suppose it would.” Matching her pace, he reaches to his chest, checking to make sure the pendant he’s wearing is still in place. Wouldn’t do for it to get tangled in the fabric he’s draped in and rob him of his ability to communicate.
It had been a simple matter to overcome the language barrier, some sort of enchanted necklace thing that changed his spoken words from incomprehensible English to understandable Equestrian, and vis-a-versa when ponies spoke to him. It was only a temporary measure, since the damn thing had to be recharged at the end of each day, or sooner if he talked a lot, but it did allow the inhabitants of the palace and city to actually understand him while he learned the local language.
Fidgeting with it a final time, Ryan makes a conscious effort to leave it alone. He doesn’t know if he can break it by mistake, but he does know he will definitely need it for this banquet. Ryan and the girls had discussed how they were going to fit him into the day to day life of the palace… well the girls had discussed it, and then they had told him what was going to happen. He’d tried his best to swallow his pride and listen.
He was to be given the position of Royal Advisor to the Crown, and introduced to the assembled nobles and dignitaries that inhabited both the capital and its political sphere. The post would give him some authority and rights, while hopefully placing him mostly above the scheming, intrigue and infighting that normally occupied the nobles. That last part had been at his explicit request. Ryan hates politics.
Sweeping around a corner, Ryan and Dazzler come to a tall door, a side entrance into the main banquet hall. Studying it, Ryan takes a deep breath, nodding towards the Night Chamberlain with only a little nervousness. As it swings open silently in a glowing field of blueish magic, he shakes his shoulders, trying to loosen himself up. He knows he doesn’t have anything to be nervous about, but his daughters are the rulers of this place, and even if that relationship isn’t exactly public knowledge he doesn’t want to embarrass them needlessly. He glances down, and Dazzler gives him an encouraging smile, nodding for him to go ahead.
Crossing the threshold, he stops, not noticing as the door closes quietly behind him. The hall is large, the ceiling reaching from one side to the other in a graceful arch, dotted at regular intervals by intricate and beautiful chandeliers of finely worked iron and blown glass. The walls are a mellow white, enclosed by thick bands of mahogany molding where they meet the floor and ceiling, and set with spaced niches that contain statues, fine porcelain and pieces of worked gold and silver. He shifts his feet, and they slid easily along the repeating, patterned mosaic set in the polished stone floor.
“Wow.” He can’t help himself, even after a week’s worth of exposure this place still manages to throw surprises at him regularly. He’d be perfectly content to stand and just take in all of the details of the room, but his wandering gaze is pulled instead to the cloth covered tables dotted around its expanse, and the milling guests who are already filing in through the main doors across the way.
Ponies of every size and description, wearing ensembles that seem to run the gamut from simple elegance to complex absurdity. He glances to his right, and sees a long trestle table running across the shorter wall to one side, set with gleaming dinnerware and tall bottles of wine. Several nobles and court functionaries are seated at it already, and he nods in greeting to the ones he’s been introduced to. Taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, he makes his way over.
The girls had instructed him on the basics of what was expected. Occupying the center section of the table are two large, ornate seats; those are for the Princesses. To either side of those are smaller seats spanning the length of the table. He’s supposed to take to the first seat to the right of the girls, who will enter after everyone else is at least in the room. When they enter he is to rise, if he’s not standing already, and bow, although not as deeply as everyone else.
They had stressed that part, and he’s pretty convinced the idea of him bowing to them makes them very uncomfortable. It was something he wryly intends to test later on.
Taking his seat, an affair sized more for a minotaur and thus a little taller and more appropriately shaped, he looks out over the rapidly filling hall. The attendees mill about, intermingling with a quiet hum of conversation as they gradually begin to fill up the vacant tables. The crowd is about what he was told to expect, mostly ponies with a smattering of foreign dignitaries.
A delegation of griffins enters, and he has to stop himself from gaping at them. According to both his girls, and some quiet, carefully worded questions asked of Dazzler, a great many mythological creatures existed in this strange new world. It had taken him almost a week of constant exposure just to start to get used to seeing waist high ponies everywhere, but the way his eyes keep trying to stare at the griffins, slowly filing towards their seats, lets him know that he still has a lot of adjusting to do.
Of course, he’s not the only one trying not to stare. Every single being entering the banquet hall has stopped to look at him quizzically, either upon first entry or quickly thereafter, and a cursory look tells him that he appears to be the subject of a number of discussions amongst the shifting groups of nobles. They’re reactions seem to range from simple curiosity at his appearance, to bewildered questions about his place at the main table, to sly glances amid hushed conversation.
It’s about what he expected, in all actuality, although the latter reactions are what cause him to sigh quietly and reach for the full glass of wine next to his plate. Taking a sip and already wishing this could be over with, he lets his gaze wander where it will, trying to relax.
The tables are quickly filling up, and a handful of servants are already circulating amongst the seated. Except, he sees, for one attendee near the back. Standing next to a table is a lavender colored unicorn, decked out in some sort of royal blue dress hemmed with stars. Unlike the others she isn’t looking at him with a questioning or confused expression, nor is she glancing at him shrewdly. No, she’s staring at him with a combination of wide eyed disbelief and amazement, like somebody just pulled him out of a hat on stage.
He frowns at her, and she finally seems to realize he’s watching her watch him. With a shake of her head, she appears to come back to herself, shooting him a sheepish grin before taking a seat next to an older unicorn couple, who greet her warmly. He continues frowning at her, not quite sure what to make of her actions. He’s about to motion a serving…mare over, with the intent to ask her who the strange unicorn is, when he’s interrupted by the sounds of trumpets.
Rising with everyone else, he turns towards the set of doors inlaid with the royal seal, off to the side of the hall. He sighs in relief, the weird lavender mare already forgotten. Finally, they can get this thing started.
* * *
The evening has been surprisingly mild so far, and as Ryan’s plate is taken away by a bowing servant, he reclines, trying not to rub his stomach. Seated next to the two Diarchs, Ryan has a commanding view of the hall, although his place at the head of it makes him feel like he’s on display.
Everyone seems to be having a decent sort of time, although the reserved atmosphere, the quiet six piece orchestral music, the muted hush of conversation and clink of glasses and silverware can’t cover the occasional glances, stares, or glares he’s been receiving all night. The first two he can understand, considering his appearance, dress, and favored place next to the Princesses. He hasn’t been announced yet, and there’s going to be curiosity. He can understand the latter, as well. He’s some unknown quantity, from out of nowhere, who seems to have been instantly favored by the co-rulers. Unfortunately there’s going to be some jealousy as well.
Leaning towards Luna, who’s seated to his right, he clears his throat to get her attention. When she quirks an eyebrow at him he leans a little closer, reaching with one hand to hold the amulet around his neck away from his chest so his words won’t be translated. “Sweetheart, how long is this thing supposed to last?”
Luna gives him an encouraging smile. “A few hours longer. Tia is going to make the announcement in a couple of minutes, she’s just waiting for the majority of them to finish eating.” She answers back quietly in English, levitating her wine glass and taking a polite sip. “After that it’s customary for the new appointee to mingle with the nobility and introduce himself, in a more informal sort of way.”
Ryan drops the enchanted necklace back against his chest. Stifling a groan, he eyes his own wine glass for a moment, and Luna nudges him gently with a wing. Looking back at her she gives him another encouraging grin and leans close to whisper to him. “Relax daddy, so far you’re doing fine. And it’ll be over before you know it.”
Eyeballing his wine glass again, he finally reaches out, pushing it firmly away in favor of the water that sits next to it. True to her sister’s word, Celestia rises from her seat a few minutes later, sliding her seat backwards to give her some room. She clears her throat a few times, and silence finally fills the hall.
Looking over the seated guests, she smiles. “Ladies and gentlecolts, honored dignitaries and treasured guests. The Crown would like to extent its sincerest thanks to you all for being here this evening.” She watches the crowd turned audience, occasionally making eye contact with an ambassador or high ranking pony. “This week has brought with it a most unexpected, and a most welcome, surprise. The return of one who has been absent from our kingdom for far too long. A very close confidant, and personal friend to both myself, and my sister Princess Luna.”
Ryan watches the seated guests for a moment as Celestia continues her speech, before looking over at his oldest daughter with no small amount of awe. She has a way about her, managing to sound like she’s addressing everyone together and individually at the same time, with a style of speaking that seems to command your attention with a gentle firmness. She sounds far different from when she talks normally, and it dawns on him that he’s seeing her in her element. He can’t help a small, prideful smile as he watches her. She’s good at this, really good. Of course, she is co-ruler of an entire nation, a nation that she helped to found no less. Maybe getting used to the whole princess thing won’t be as hard as he thought after all.
“…And so it is with no small amount of joy that the Crown welcomes Mr. Ryan Williams to the royal palace, to Canterlot, and to the nation of Equestria.” She pauses a moment, waiting for the polite applause of the crowd to die off. “In light of Mr. Williams prior services, he is granted official citizenship to the nation of Equestria, and shall assume, immediately, the position of personal Royal Advisor to the Crown, with all rights and privileges therein.”
Quiet murmuring breaks out amongst the seated guests, and Ryan studies them closely. The Griffon delegation remains stoic, sitting quietly in a group and calmly watching as events unfold, while there seems to be a good deal of back and forth between many of the nobles. There are a lot of unhappy expressions at the various tables, no doubt from those who thought to gain such an influential post for themselves. Tia and Luna had told him to expect it, though, and it looks like they were right. That they were right doesn’t make him any more comfortable with it, and Ryan swallows some of his unease, chasing it with a sip of water.
Celestia gives the audience a moment, before continuing. “In light of his new position and duties, the Crown is most pleased to bestow upon Mr. Williams the title of Archduke, and adoption into the Royal Family. In addition to his new title, the Crown grants Mr. Williams estates and holdings in Canterlot, Fillydelphia, Trottingham, Seaddle, the Abaco Coast…”
Ryan chokes on his water, struggling to swallow without spitting it across the table. Gasping and a little red faced, he leans over towards Luna, his eyes growing wide as he fights to keep his expression neutral. “What?” He manages in a strained whisper.
Luna leans close to him, a hesitant, uncertain smile on her muzzle. “We knew you would balk if we asked you first so…surprise!” Her eyes meet his nervously for a moment, before darting back to the guests.
Ryan starts to gape at her before remembering himself. Turning stiffly he gazes out at the seated nobles and foreign dignitaries, trying not to flinch as Celestia continues to reel off a list of places he’s never heard of. Places where, apparently, he now owns property. Out in the audience he sees a lot of slack jaws and wide eyes. He also sees something else that makes him a little sad; anger, outrage, envy, and a cold sort of calculation. No matter what race, what wonders of magic, or how fantastical a world is, some things never change.
He looks at his eldest again, noticing a slight ruffling of her wings, too slight to really notice, unless you knew her tells when she was nervous.
Celestia fights to keep from shifting her wings, steadfastly ignoring the tense feeling in her joints as she finishes up. “…Appeloosa, and the Sway Back Mountains.” Celestia pauses to let the audience absorb what is no doubt a fair sized shock, just barely managing to keep her eyes on the crowd and away from her father.
How is he taking it? She and her sister had both discussed this, and they had agreed that had they broached the subject of a title and lands to him, he would have refused. May even have refused the position they were giving him. Her eyes start to slide towards her left, and she forces them back onto the crowd. She’s going to get an earful from him later, they both are, but for now she needs to study the assembled nobles. That’s where the real trouble will come from.
There’s a lot of distasteful expressions, but for the most part they seem to be taking it about as well as could be expected. She’ll have to keep an eye on things for a while in the wake of this. There’s bound to be a hoof-ful or two that will be keen to position themselves for maximum personal gain. The idea causes her eyes narrow for a moment, before she forces a smile back onto her face.
If any of these overstuffed, over bred popinjays think they can use her father for their own ends, they most definitely have an unpleasant surprise in store.
Taking a few slow, deep breaths to center herself, she beams at the assorted social elite. “And now, honored friends and guests,” On cue a number of servers enter from the sides of the room bearing drinks and platters of deserts. “Please, relax and enjoy your evening.”
She hears a glass clink against the table, and hazards a glance at her father. Ryan looks at the drink in his hand, contemplating the water as though it has done him wrong before sliding it next to his half full glass of wine.
The low murmuring from the assembled guests picks up as normal conversation resumes. At Luna’s urging, Ryan rises to his feet, moving with her to stand next to her older sister. Taking a pull from the wine glass he doesn’t remember picking up, he plants himself in front of his oldest daughter, his face tight. “Archduke?”
She meets his gaze, schooling her expression to stillness. Still or not though, this close Ryan can make out traces of both amusement and apprehension. She leans towards him, pitching her voice low. “It’s for the best, Dad. It would be odd to adopt you into the Royalty and not give you a title.” She glances around, eyeing the other attendees who are starting to rise and mingle around the hall. “And besides, this way none of the nobility will try to bully you around. They can’t, since you outrank most of them.”
“I don’t want to be Royalty, Celestia Marie, and I don’t want to outrank anyone…”
“But you are Royalty, Daddy.” Luna interrupts, a small, sweet smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “In fact, you’re the most directly related member of the Royal Family that we have.” She shares a quick look with her older sister, both of them turning back to him with gentle, sincere grins.
Ryan studies them for a moment, several arguments lining themselves up neatly in his mind, before he fetches a deep sigh and drains the last of the wine from his glass. “…Alright. Alright, fine.” His shoulders slump in defeat, and he grabs a full wine glass from a passing server. “I suppose the fact that you two will occasionally know what’s best will take a little getting used to.” Celestia’s smiles grows wider, until he skewers her with a scolding look. “But I do not like it, Celestia Marie.” Luna begins to chuckle, only to have it die in her throat when he turns that same look on her. “I don’t like this political, royalty stuff.” They both nod in response, and he sighs again, then gives them a gentle smile. “Okay, fine, so what’s next?”
Celestia steps closer, turning to stand beside him. Partially wrapping a wing around his shoulders, she nods towards a cluster of ponies standing politely nearby, patiently waiting for their conversation to end. “Now we start introducing you to everypony, beginning with the rest of the Ministers over there.” Ryan harrumphs in answer, and she leads him away with a quiet giggle.
* * *
Nodding to the stone faced guard, Ryan steps through the curtained doorway and out onto the balcony, the cool night air dancing delicately along his face and neck in greeting. It’s a welcome greeting to Ryan, who stops for a moment to enjoy the comparatively milder temperature with his head back and eyes closed.
Night had long ago fallen, and the stars twinkle overhead like gemstones cast haphazardly upon a swatch of black velvet. Sighing in relief, he opens his eyes, vision dancing amongst the pinpricks of light, traveling down imaginary lines that connect them together. So many constellations are different now, and for a moment the sight drives home to him, again, how much has changed. The moon is just beginning to peek its pale face over the distant mountains, and the sight stops him for a moment, bringing him back to the surreal conversation he and the girls had had a few days ago regarding their ‘additional duties’.
At first he’d thought they were joking, trying to pull one over on him. When he’d finally realized that they were serious about this whole raising of the sun and moon thing, he’d become honestly angry with them. He’s thought, for a moment, that they had pulled one over on everyone else, and had loudly told them that he hadn’t taught them to take advantage of the ignorance of others.
They had eventually calmed him down, and launched into a long explanation of exactly what it was they did. He hadn’t been able to follow most of it, something incomprehensible about naturally occurring Ley Lines girding the planet, connecting it to several celestial bodies in a web of extant magical energy that they used to ‘nudge’ things in the right direction. When they’d finished, he’d been too flabbergasted to ask for an explanation of the explanation, and had instead settled on going to bed early.
His mind retreats from the memory, and he closes his eyes again. That, he has decided, is something he will process slowly, over time. Trying to tackle it in addition to everything else that’s happened is just too much right now.
Distantly he can remember a time when one of his most pressing concerns had been making sure they didn’t spend too much time watching cartoons, and he smiles a little, firmly returning himself to the present.
Sighing wistfully, his hand absently seeks out one of the small pockets sewn into the interior of the robelike, not-a-robe-thing he’s wearing. Unbuttoning the small flap that closes the top, he fishes out a very familiar, and very battered red and white package. He smiles at it for a moment, as if greeting an old friend, before fishing a slender, mostly straight tube from within. There’s only six left after this one, so he’ll have to husband them carefully. Replacing the pack in its pocket, his fingers search for a few seconds before finding the half book of matches. Striking one alight and inhaling with a relaxed expression, he leans against the grey stone railing that encircles the balcony.
He needs to remember to thank whoever designed this particular part of the castle for thinking to install a balcony. After what seemed like an eternity of introductions, small talk and forced politeness, he needs to be away from everybody for a few minutes. It’s bad enough being the one and only overly tall biped in a room full of short, curious four legged beings. It is infinitely worse being the one and only overly tall biped who has, without warning, just been named High Royalty, and to a highly influential and sought after post.
And so, while Tia and Luna had been engaged in conversation with some Baroness or other, Ryan had slipped away, making a beeline for the mezzanine he had spotted earlier. Taking a deep drag, the cherry glowing brightly in the darkness and highlighting his face for a moment, Ryan lets it out in a gust.
These ponies may not be as gifted in the art of guile as one would expect, but he’s received enough calculating, searching looks from the various attendees to last him a lifetime. This is what politics is, and one way or another he’s sure that he’s going to get caught smack in the middle of it. Sighing again, he closes his eyes.
There is a quiet shuffling from behind him, and a voice speaks up hesitantly. “Excuse me, your Grace? Mr…Mr. Williams?”
Good lord, can’t he even get five minutes? Turning in annoyance, he sees the same purple coated unicorn from earlier bowing to him from the doorway, the thick curtains behind her swishing slowly back and forth as they resettle. Tamping down his annoyance, he shakes his head. “Please don’t do that.”
She looks up, head still held low to the floor. “Ex…excuse me?”
“Don’t bow. Please. It makes me feel weird.”
Swallowing nervously, the lavender mare slowly straightens herself. “But it’s only proper when addressing High Royalty, your Grace. I meant…”
“And for the love of God, do not call me that.” Ryan takes a deep breath, fighting down a wave of irritation. “Call me Ryan, or Mr. Williams if you must be formal.”
The mare studies him for a moment, before smiling shyly. “Okay… Mr. Williams.”
Nodding, Ryan draws slowly on his cigarette, looking the mare up and down, taking in her admittedly fine dress and hoof…things. He squints, studying her face, and intuition suddenly hits him. Pointing with the glowing end of his smoke, he smiles gently. “You must be Twilight Sparkle.” Her wide eyed expression is all the response he needs.
“Yes, how did you…”
“The girls told me about you.” He says with a grin. “The way Tia tells it, you’re practically family.”
Twilight smiles, eyes looking down in embarrassment at the flecked white and grey stone beneath her hooves. “…I don’t know about that.”
Ryan chuckles, walking over and offering his hand. “It’s very nice to finally meet you, Miss Sparkle. And from now on you call me Ryan, I’ll have none of that Royal address nonsense.”
She considers his outstretched hand for a few seconds, before gingerly bringing her hoof up to meet it. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Ryan.” She looks curiously to the smoldering cigarette held in his off hand, then quirks an eyebrow back up at him in silent question.
He shrugs a little uncomfortably, then smiles wanly. “Eh, it’s an old habit I’m soon to break.” He stares at the red-orange cherry, then back to the little lavender mare. “Oh uh, let’s just keep this between us. Alright?”
Twilight returns a look that lacks comprehension, then nods and smiles. “My lips are sealed.”
The two share an awkward sort of silence for a minute, until Ryan turns and pitches his cigarette over the edge of the balcony. Looking back, he motions Twilight over beside him, taking in her wide eyed look and strained expression. It’s a look he’s familiar with, and he fights to keep from laughing. The poor girl looks like she’s about to burst. “You want to ask me something, Miss Sparkle?”
She nods quickly, a large grin spreading across her face. “I have so many questions.”
He glances down at her, before turning his gaze back out to the night darkened vista laid out before him. She fidgets a little, and he nods for her to continue. He can’t help feeling amused as she settles herself a polite distance from him, her face growing distracted as she no doubt gets her thoughts in order.
“I don’t even know where to begin, and I didn’t bring my quill or any parchment…” She trails off as Ryan holds up a hand towards her, chuckling quietly.
“Tia did say you were curious one. Why don’t we try to keep it brief for right now, since I’m going to have to go back in there pretty soon.” Taking in her crestfallen expression, his face softens, and he smiles at her gently. “I would, however, be willing to meet up and answer more questions tomorrow, preferably sometime after breakfast.”
She smiles shyly up at him, nodding in agreement before adopting a thoughtful expression. “What was it like?” He glances at her, quirking an eyebrow, and she hastens to clarify. “Raising the Princesses. I mean, you raised the two founders and rulers of Equestria, it must have been pretty amazing!”
Ryan takes a breath, thinking on the question and how he wants to answer. “Well, it was pretty amazing, truth be told, although not in the way I think you mean.”
She raises an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles. “Well on the one hand,” he holds his right hand out, palm up and fingers slightly curled “they were two creatures straight out of mythology. You guys are used to unicorns and pegasi and griffins just trotting around all day, every day. But back then they were nothing more than fairy tale creatures, beings that never really existed in the first place. Finding them, and realizing what they were, that was pretty amazing.”
He looks back out into the distance, breathing in the night scented air. “On the other hand though, they were kids. They played, they fought, they got into trouble. They liked pancakes on Saturday mornings and watching cartoons in the afternoons.” Noticing her expression, he sighs quietly. “You can ask me about those are tomorrow.”
He sighs, looking out into the night and back through the years. “They were my kids.” He trails off, then looks down at Twilight. “It’s really sort of tough to explain.” He has trouble making out her expression, which seems to be equal parts wistfulness and fascination with just a hint of disappointment. “I’m sorry, I’m not really used to talking about them. They were a secret for so long, you know? I’ll try to be clearer tomorrow.”
Reaching into the pocket again, he fishes out another cigarette. Twilight watches in fascination as he lights the end and takes a deep drag. Flicking the spent match over the railing, he exhales a stream of grey smoke, angling his head so that it flows upwards and away. “Remember,” He says, waggling the cigarette a little, “this is our little secret.” He smiles down at her.
“What secret is that, exactly?” Comes a voice from behind the heavy curtains that partition the banquet hall from the balcony. A moment later a dark head pushes its way through, followed by a flowing, star filled mane and a dusky blue body. Luna looks archly at the cigarette still smoldering in his hand, then at him for a long moment. Finally she calls back over her shoulder in lilting Equestrian “Sister, we have found him.”
Celestia pushes through a moment later, stopping short when she sees what he’s unsuccessfully trying to hide in his hand. “Dad,” She begins, slipping momentarily into English, “…what are you doing?” She asks in an exasperated, outraged tone. “Where did you even get one of those things?”
Ryan sighs irritably, and then takes a defiant drag from his smoke. “They were in my pocket when I woke up. And what I’m doing, Tia Marie, is enjoying one.”
“Those things are going to kill you Dad.” Luna says, noticing Twilight Sparkle for the first time. “Good evening, Twilight Sparkle.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve crossed that bridge once already, sweetheart.” Ryan huffs, shooting them both with a frown. “Besides, I’ve only got a few left, and then that’ll be that.”
Luna huffs in irritation. “That’s not the point daddy, and you know it.”
“Where am I going to get more, once these few are gone? Just let me enjoy them while I have them.” Ryan folds his arms, cigarette still gently smoldering between two fingers.
Celestia sighs. She squares up, adopting the look of Royalty, of a ruler, of a mare who’s spent the past millennia molding others to her will. She is the Goddess of the Sun and Ruler of the Day. With an expression that speaks of the end of long suffering patience, and with a heavy helping of motherly disappointment, she frowns at him, bringing all of her countless years of experience to bear. “Father,” she begins, “You will put that out this instant, and furthermore…”
Ryan, face slightly amused, arms still folded, arches an eyebrow upwards, and she falters. He leans back against the stone balustrade encircling the balcony, and simply looks at her.
She hesitates, her wings beginning to fidget, unnoticed, on her back. “...And furthermore, you will…”
Ryan continues to look at her, and it seems as though she can feel the weight of his gaze. She swallows. “...You will start…”
For the first time in for as long as she can remember, her impenetrable, unassailable royal dignity and gravitas begins to first crack, and then deflate, swept away before the I-am-your-dad-and-I-am-amused-but-not-for-much-longer expression he currently wears.
When he sees that she’s done talking, he nods once, slowly. “Celestia Maria,” Turning his head slightly he spears his youngest with his eyes, causing her to actually flinch. “Luna Maybell, you may be Princesses, and you may have built a working, powerful civilization. You may even control the sun and the moon. But I am an adult, and, I might add, quite a bit older than both of you combined.”
Trying not to laugh at Twilight’s poleaxed expression, just visible from the corner of his eye, he soldiers on. “I have raised you, educated you, and sacrificed for you. I taught you how to go to the toilet like civilized beings, how to read, write, and use silverware. I have worked hard, kept a roof over your heads, paid my taxes, and witnessed the apocalypse.” His stare has grown stony. “And if I want to have a cigarette, then I damn well will.”
Luna, eyes downcast, hoof kicking idly at a seam in the stone flooring, mutters quietly “We witnessed the apocalypse too you know.”
“What’s that young lady?” Ryan asks archly.
“...Nothing Dad.”
Turning, he looks to his eldest. “Celestia Marie?”
She returns his look for a moment, before dropping her eyes. “Nothing Dad.”
He watches them for a few seconds longer, and then nods approvingly. “Good.” Taking one last long, challenging drag, he pitches the smoldering remains over the railing and out into the night.
Celestia and Luna share a look, one which seems to carry an entire silent conversation about parental stubbornness and picked battles, and then both sigh in unison. With a wry shake of her head, Celestia smiles over at her most faithful student. “Forgive us, Twilight Sparkle, but we must discuss some things with the Archduke.”
“...of course, Princess.” Twilight gives a short bow, and turns to Ryan. “It was very nice to meet you, Mr...Ryan.”
He grins at her. “Likewise, Miss Sparkle. I look forward to speaking with you tomorrow.”
She grins back. “I can’t wait.” With another shallow bow, she turns and trots back into the hall.
Celestia and Luna walk over to their father, and he places a hand on their withers. “Honestly girls, I only have four left. Four cigarettes won’t kill me.” He chuckles, mussing up their manes, much to their displeasure. “You two aren't that lucky. You’ll be stuck with me for a little while longer.”
Luna smooths her mane back into shape with a simple motion. Glancing at her older sister, who’s still fussing with her own mane, she beams a knowing grin. “I take it you haven’t told him yet, sister.”
“Told me what?” Ryan frowns at Luna, before turning to face Celestia.
Shaking her mane out with a huff, Celestia sniffs. “Do you know how long it takes me to this looking halfway decent?”
Ryan laughs, booping her on the nose. “Don’t make me pull out the dad card then, sweetheart.” He brushes her forehead with a quick kiss, earning him a smile. “Now, what’s your sister talking about?”
“Well, we’re not one hundred percent sure, yet, but it seems that it’s possible you’ve slowed, like we have.”
Brow beetling, Ryan looks over at Luna. “What?”
Luna gives him a slightly mischievous smile in return. “Let’s just say that we may be ‘stuck’ with you for longer than you’d think.”
“What does that mean?” Ryan asks, starting to frown.
The two sisters share another look, and it’s Celestia who answers this time. “It’s a magic thing, Dad.” She huffs at the face he pulls, shaking her head slowly. “We’ll talk about it later, after we know more.”
Luna glances over her shoulder, towards the curtained doorway. “We should probably get back in there.” She says, her lack of enthusiasm noticeable.
“Yeah, we probably should.” Ryan agrees, turning instead to look back out over the balcony railing. After a moment, both Celestia and Luna join him, one on each side. “I like your night, sweetheart.”
Smiling up at the blanket of stars, shining jewel-like on the black velveteen sky, she nudges him with her wing. “Thanks daddy.”
Silence reigns for a few more minutes, and then Ryan clears his throat. “So, that Cadence you mentioned earlier, she’s an Alicorn too, right?”
“Yeah, she is.” Celestia answers absently, eyes picking out constellations as her mind wanders over the radical changes this week has brought.
“And she’s an empress or something like that, right? In charge of a whole empire?”
“That’s right, dad.” Luna answers. “She’s doing a pretty good job, too.
“And you said she’s married, right?”
Luna nods absently, eyes roaming the night darkened landscape before them. “To Twilight Sparkles brother, no less.”
Ryan nods, fingers drumming lightly on the grainy surface of the balustrad. “Oh, I didn’t know that.” The silence resumes briefly, until Ryan clears his throat again. “So...she’s an empress, and she’s married.”
“Yes, that’s what Luna sai…” Celestia looks over at him, brows lowering “Oh, come on, Dad.”
Ryan holds his hand up defensively. “I’m just saying, is all.”
Luna turns an incredulous look towards her father. “We discussed this, Daddy. Celestia and I cannot simply…”
“Excuses excuses. Empress Cadence is married, and she’s an empress. I don’t know how that matches up to being Princesses, but it’s got to be similar.” The two sisters groan dejectedly, causing Ryan to chuckle to himself quietly. “The two of you founded an entire civilization, and run it very well I might add.” He shrugs. “At least from what I can see. Are a few grand kids too much to ask for?”
The two groan again, before taking turns thumping him with their wings, as Ryan tries in vain to defend himself. From just the other side of the curtain, the stoic, stone faced guard tilts an ear, trying to discern the ruckus coming from outside.