September 12th, 1004, Canterlot Castle
An off-white hoof waves in front of me. I follow it with my eyes then tense the muscles and tendons that make it curl up. After repeating that motion, I roll it like I would a wrist at the fetlock. I furrow my own brow at the sight. My earlier experiments with the shoulders showed that a pony’s forelegs had the same degree of rotation as a normal human arm. While convenient, it made me desperate to find a medical textbook on anatomy as soon as I could to satisfy my own curiosity about why.
I look at the mare staring back at me through the crystal mirror on the dresser. She smiles, muscles in her face shift and draw her lips back to reveal a small showing of teeth with no canines. Strands of her pink mane curled around her ears which flatten against her head and perk up again. The full length of the mane reaches well beyond her neck and hangs just below the end of the mare’s elbows on her forelegs. Rogue pink strands rebel in different directions without a caretaker to quell them. Her tail is in a similar state of disrepair. A lengthy horn spirals forth from her forehead.
She stares into my eyes. I close my own, darkness highlighted by the pink of my eyelids cover my sight. I reopen them to see her gray magenta orbs staring back at me still; my gray magenta orbs now. My left cheek twitches upward at that thought. Her right, white furred cheek does the same in response. I grit my teeth and screw my eyes shut before shaking my head to rid myself of the creeping despair; reopening my eyes, I see my mane more wildly out of whack than it was before.
“No wonder they prefer the ethereal, wavvy version,” I hollowly observe, a frown on my face. My voice quiet and just as feminine as it was an hour ago when I last used it. I take a deep, measured breath and exhale slowly.
Lack of a nagging, persistent pain from my horn made it easier to have an existential crisis. Moving on would be better than the alternative at the moment. Ignoring my new hair, I turn to the wings at my sides. The feathers appeared to be in order. At least I think so. I’m not an expert by any means on wingology, wing physiology, whichever it is.
I flex the foreign muscles on my shoulders; the feathered appendages spring upward from their limp unfolded state into an impressive wingspan that gives Luna a run for her money. They bristle as I tense the muscles again. I flap them down.
The air underneath me is displaced as I rocket upward off of my hooves and slam back down on my haunches, cushioned by the carpet below after flying backward several feet. A bookcase rattles behind me with my landing next to it; My tail hairs splay out on the floor. Pony wings are no joke. That was a crazy amount of lift for a single flap. Blinking the surprise away, I return my gaze to my feathery limbs with a new found appreciation of their ability. Magic has to be involved to make them so effective.
Now, how do I fold them in? Hmm.
Not really clear on what I need to do, I elect to just contract every muscle in my back at once. Big white feathery wings crash into my sides. My eyes bulge, tears building rapidly. I mouth a silent scream of pain that threatens to become a shriek.
The plain white ceiling is an interesting contrast to the nice purple of the wall paper. My eyes close when the muscles tremor periodically in my shoulders. I laid back down on the circular bed, focusing on gently kneading what parts of the wings that I can reach. The bones are remarkably solid for flight.
“Tha-that was not a good idea,” I cry softly, only able to blame myself for my aches this time.
Blinking away tears blurring my surroundings, I begin to think; I need to strategize. This is Equestria, what do I know? I really wish I kept watching the show after season four now instead of losing interest and just laughing at the memes about it on an imageboard focused on the refined art of shitposting. What little good that does me now.
I awkwardly fold my wings to my sides slowly with a wince.
Of course, the old man who sent me here said that I shouldn’t rely on what I do know. I need to get my bearings somehow.
With that in mind, I stand on my hooves to leap down to the carpet, methodically making my way over to the balcony. I keep my nose down and stare at each hoof as I move. So intensely focused on my own motion, I don’t notice my horn getting close enough to the door to bang on the glass of the door leading outside.
After rubbing my forehead with one hoof and a furrowed brow, I reach with the other hoof and hook it open like I did last time. This time, with less Luna. I step out on the balcony and gaze below. This balcony is a fantastic vantage point is the first thing I notice. Celestia definitely had it constructed because of the view it would give her.
I immediately spot ponies milling about in the streets beyond the castle grounds. Trotting about their business in groups, pairs, or solo. Ponies in pairs seem more common. The closest buildings to the castle appear to be more opulent, and become less so as the streets stretch away. At the very far ends of the edge of Canterlot appear to be structures constructed out of wood instead of the usual masonry that seems typical for the rest of the city. Distant pegasi dart around above the streets, the airspace above the castle distinctly empty, A few cloud houses also hover above portions of the city; none of them near the castle itself either.
My eyes turn to the sizable hedge maze behind the castle walls. A garden laiden with numerous pruned bushes, trees, and uncountable flower beds of dazzling amounts of different types of colors surround the outside of the hedge walls. Small paths wind around the plants with several stone statues dotting the side of the trails; from this distance, I can’t make out the exact details of them. I would have to go down there to see if the individual I am thinking about is still stoned at the moment. Ponies in mostly yellowish gold armor and spears hanging off their sides patrol the battlements of the castle walls; the guardsponies in the darker tinted armor appear scarcer at the moment than their lighter counterparts. They must be the Night Guard.
I turn my head right and see a pegasus in gold plated armor standing rigidly on a small cloud that is a hundredish feet away from me or so. His bored gaze slowly drifts across me before his brown eyes open wide. He makes a point to turn his head away to the city itself.
Is it the mane? It must be the mane. I fix my stare on him. He uncomfortably shifts in place his eyes glancing back to me while I watch him. The smirk on my face is hard to restrain. Oh right. Remembering what I came over here to do, I refocus my eyes toward the green rolling hills beyond the city. Where is it?
“Ponyville, Ponyville, Ponyville.” I say to myself, my eyes tracing the countryside for the town in the distance. I find a train track that guides me to the far off visage of a small town.
Unless there's another town that close to Canterlot that has to be it. There is no crystal-looking castle. I can’t see any large purple buildings at all. Everything is miniscule at this distance so that doesn’t even confirm anything.
I shrug to myself with a sigh tinged in frustration, “I guess I’ll just have to figure that out a different way,” damn it. At least I know Ponyville exists, that's something to be glad about.
Ignoring the watchful eyes I am receiving from the guardspony, my hooves shuffle as my body turns around to go back inside. I need to practice walking. It is a pain in the ass to stare at the ground every time I need to move. The random intervals of my limbs shaking like I‘m going through withdrawal of some kind doesn’t help me either. If this how it feels to have half your magic spent then I don’t want to know what it's like to have none left to spare.
A knock on my bedroom door interrupts my intense walking session, causing me to stumble, but I catch myself before I fully collapse. I’m getting better at it already. Yes! I will not be winning any races any time soon, but it is progress. My temporary elation from my recovery is interrupted by another knock. The silence from behind the door after the knock makes me turn to face it with a perplexed stare.
“Yes?” I ask, figuring they were waiting for a cue from me.
Someone clears their throat behind the wood, “Princess, will you be joining your nephew at lunch?” it is the voice of a mare.
“Nephew?” I say, confused, struggling to remember who that might be.
The voice falls silent at my inquiry, “Prince Blueblood, your highness,” it finally clarifies after some hesitation.
“Oh right,” I say aloud, feeling a bit silly, “Has he made a specific request for my presence?” My feelings are mixed upon learning this.
“Yes he has princess,” the mare clarifies, “The prince said he had a matter to speak to you about if you would deign to hear it.”
He wanted me to speak to him about something? I’m curious what it might be, but at same time I really shouldn’t leave this room until I can brush my own mane. Perhaps I can feign sickness if necessary. You know what...
If he wants Celestia’s presence, he is going to get it. The thought causing a devious smile to cross my lips. Besides, being cooped up in this bedroom is beginning to drive me crazy. Walking about in a bedroom is not the most exciting activity, that's for sure. I walk up to the bedroom door and leverage the handle with a forehoof to swing it open.
I look down to the shocked maid at my door and give her a petite smile, “I believe I will join my dear nephew.” The earth pony mare’s eyes trail my uncombed pink mane and the strands of it that are completely out order.
“Prin-princess? Your ma-” She begins to sputter.
I place the hoof that I used to use open the door on the stone floor of the hallway, “Nope,” I interrupt her. I do not want to go through the trouble of that at the moment.
“Are you not going to wear your regalia?” The mare appears to be absolutely frazzled by my current state of dress. Wide eyes, horrified look, and frantic to prevent me from just walking outside.
A hoof is raised to my chin in thought, “Perhaps you have a point,” I close the door, looking at the mannequin with the crown and necklace adorning it. The audible sigh of relief from behind the door causes me to smile wider.
You aren’t going to prevent me from doing this, my little pony.
I walk up to the mannequin and eye the necklace and crown closely. Made out of what looks like gold; they both have a single purple gemstone set within each of them. A soft engraving of swirls is present on both. With some moderate struggle I manage to slip the necklace around my neck and adjust it to properly to rest on my chest with my hooves. I stare at the crown with a sour expression slipping on my face.
There's no way I’m going to be able to keep that on my head. Not with my mane acting like it is right now. Whatever, the crown can stay. I power walk with my hooves back to the bedroom door again and throw it back open.
“I believe I am ready to attend lunch,” I inform my maid. Her green eyes opening and closing slowly as if she cannot understand what is happening in front of her.
“Princess…” She slowly drawls out, a twitch in her eye. I ignore her.
“Lead on,” I simply reply back.
Helpless, she nods slowly before turning around, mumbling to herself. I follow behind her to finally enter Canterlot castle at large.
Canterlot castle, from what I have seen of it so far, is lavish with decorations. Tapestries and banners of bright colors dot every inch of the hallways as we move through the castle. It does well to invoke the feeling of warmth that I would expect. A red rug is rolled on the floor to conveniently cushion travel between the different wings of the castle. Large, thick windows give me a lovely view of the castle grounds outside as we go.
Many servants of the castle who wander into the little earth pony maid and I on our journey immediately blush, averting their eyes. The guardsponies who I pass by drop their jaws in shock before fixing them and pretending I do not exist. Thankfully, I don’t run into Princess Luna. She is most likely in bed by now. Yet, I don’t get to enjoy as many stunned, silent stares as I wanted to since the meal hall is not far from my bedroom.
It was far enough for me to get the reactions I wanted to though.
I stand before the closed double doors of the dinning area, my lips turned upwards in a smile. The two unicorn guards standing in front of the entrance stare at me, intense concern leaking into their expressions. They turn to look at each other pointedly before turning back to face me with their trademark stone-like impassiveness. The doors glow with the auras of both ponies as they telekinetically move them open.
Behind the doors is a heavy, laminated, wooden dining table that extends at least a dozen ponies in length. The sun’s light peers in through massive windows that extend to the tip of the ceiling that cast rays of light onto the table itself. A red rug, similar to the one that adorns the pathways through the castle, rests under the table itself properly covering its size beneath it. An ornate golden chandelier hovers over the middle of the room. Numerous chairs surround the table, however, there are two larger chairs that are more distinct, one white themed and the other a dark blue chair, each at a seperate head of the table. To complete the set is a table cloth sporting a artistic rendition of the sun and moon on each respective side of the table.
Two ponies are in here right now; both sitting at the head of table with the white chair. One, a white coated unicorn stallion wearing a plain cloth collar on his neck and a dark blue bowtie to go with it. His blonde mane is delicately curled in half around his shimmering horn and finely brushed smooth; lips parted in a dignified curl upwards. A light blue glow rests on a floating cup of what I believe to be orange juice.
The second pony is another unicorn stallion with a steel gray fur coat, sporting a much more visible musculature and bigger frame. His own mane a darkened brown, much plainer than the other stallion sitting across from him who I already recognize as Blueblood, if significantly less cartoonish. A golden armored helmet in the similar legionnaire style of the other Day Guards I’ve seen before rests to the left side of his plate on the table in front of him. A more ornate armor than usual matching the style of the helmet adorns his chest and back. He is wearing a neutral expression on his face, but is focused on what is being said by the other stallion ahead of him.
I begin to calmly walk around to the left side of the table as I make my way to the white chair; the maid who led me here is happy enough to go off to trot off to anywhere but where I am at this time. Leaving my arrival unnoticed by the two ponies as they continue their conversation.
“-eason why I haven’t been around for the past month,” Blueblood explains to the other stallion in his refined speech, “Turns out, the griffins don’t hold much love for pony merchants who don’t pay the proper tariff rate. My friend was an idiot when he decided to try skirting around them to save bits, and now he's rotting in a prison by the border with murderers and thieves.”
The dark coated stallion gives him a low whistle, “Tough luck,” he takes a sip of the cup of water resting on the table by him, “Most ponies know how strict griffins are on goods entering their little provinces. Still, I don’t much like the attitude they give us. Half of Aurora Will’s paperwork is dealing with those cagey, griffin petty lords on silly garbage like this. We don’t even have a tariff on their stuff going to us.”
Upon finishing his thought, the steel grey coated stallion spots me just I cross behind Blueblood’s chair. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of me, chuckling to himself before shaking his head with a roll of the eyes.
Unaware of my presence, Blueblood continues, “I was going to ask Aunt Celestia if she could drop a good word on his behalf. I know the lord of the province he’s in jail in is visiting soon- why are you laughing?”
The other stallion just points a hoof at me as I start to scoot the big white chair out with a single hoof of my own, “Ask the Princess herself, she's right there.”
“Good afternoon, Blueblood,” I politely greet him. I sit down and draw the chair close to the table.
He turns to face me, “Auntie! It’s goo-” he stops mid sentence. He takes a good long look at my completely uncombed mane, strands of hair listlessly hanging in different directions. After, he gives me a complete scan with his eyes.
“You… look younger?” He finally mumbles to himself more than he does to me. I raise an eyebrow at that statement. That’s a new one, interesting.
Breaking out of his thought, he regains the intelligence in his eyes, “Sorry Aunt Celestia, it was shocking for you to arrive in such a state of, uhm, disrepair.”
“I understand nephew,” I say with a nod, “I really did not want to deal with my mane today.” Another truth, always good to start with one.
“Sorry for dwelling on this so long Aunt Celestia, but I’ve never seen your mane a solid color before,” He brings a hoof to his chin in thought, “I believe the last time it was depicted like that in art was many centuries ago just after Aunt Luna was, nevermind, forget I said anything.” He waves off the topic like a bad smell.
He’s a historian? Blueblood, what kind of stallion has this world made you into? The other stallion at the table merely shrugs at the revelation he just gave.
I visibly show my surprise, “I did not know you were interested in history Blueblood.”
“Not history auntie, art.” he clarifies, “But that tends to go hoof-in-hoof with history anyhow.”
A pegasus maid trots up to begin taking orders from the table. She pulls out a notepad and writes down their orders as they give them, punctuating each new item with a nod. I can’t help but stare at her somehow use her hooves to do it. It’s mesmerizing.
“Princess? Do you want something?” Huh? oh right.
“Just a glass of water,” I can’t use magic anyways, and I have no clue how she did what she just did.
She nods and trots off to a sidedoor that I did not see earlier, must be a kitchen.
“Anywho, let’s move on to brighter pastures for conversation, as it were,” He pontificates with a hoof.
“What was that about the griffins that you two were talking about earlier?” I inquire with a tilt of my head.
As he is about respond, the other stallion interrupts him, “Blueblood was hoping for you to speak to Lord Tiven on his next visit to Canterlot about a personal matter to him, princess. I told him he would be lucky to see you outside your room today, but it looks like his fortune has smiled upon him.”
“Indeed, the good captain has summarized my request well,” He turns back to face the aforementioned captain, “Leaving out all of the detail,” he jabs at him verbally, sipping his floating orange juice.
“I live to serve the Princess, Blueblood, not you.” He snipes to the blonde stallion.
Blueblood rolls his eyes, “You serve the Crowns of Equestria, Captain Foresight. The oath the guard takes is clear about that.”
“Not when I took my oath, it was ‘The Crown of Equestria’, a couple years ago.” Foresight recites to him.
The other stallion taps a hoof in thought at that, “You’re correct,” he admits.
Foresight drains his entire cup of water in victory. I shake my head at the sight, real petty. Dare I say it, I actually like these two. They appear to be decent enough ponies. I wonder if there are more ponies in the guard I should know about. Foresight never appeared in the show. Another question is: where is Shining Armor right now?
“Regardless,” Blueblood continues, “I have a close friend being held by Lord Tiven’s provincial guard for evading tariffs. His name is Thrifty Haggle, and he made an honest and sincere mistake by committing the act.”
I cannot help but look at him incredulously, “Sure he did,” I reply, sounds like an upstanding guy just from his name.
Foresight laughs at my curt response and shakes his head, “Did he say that himself when you talked to him?”
“It was very heavily implied,” Blueblood says sheepishly, rubbing a hoof on the back of his neck, “He did me a favor two years ago, and now I would like to make it right by doing him one. The griffin import policies are draconian, so I don’t see it as much of a black mark on him.”
Should I really make promises about things like this when I don’t even know the first thing about Equestrian-Griffin politics? It can’t be that complicated, I mean, do I have anything else scheduled I don’t know about? I need to ask Luna or at least a pony who knows my schedule. Celestia has to have an advisor of some kind right. I hope, dear god, I hope she has one.
“Alright, If I get the chance Blueblood, I will bring it up to Lord Tiven,” I concede to him, narrowing my eyes. We will see how that goes when it happens I guess. Whenever it does.
Actually, figuring out when this meeting is supposed to happen would be a good thing to find out.
“Thank you Auntie,” He visibly tilts his head down respectfully.
After he finishes, Blueblood brings his head back up to meet my eyes again, “Does either the Captain or you know when this griffin is arriving? I’m afraid I don’t recall receiving an exact appointment.” I ask the stallion, meeting his light blue eyes.
“That would be because the griffins never give us a set time for their visits, princess,” Captain Foresight illuminates, an ear twitching in annoyance, “It is a bad habit that appears to have caught on with every single lord who has visited us. The Lord-Secretary just hoofs us a vague list with what week a particular lord might come by and expects us to accommodate.”
“So, we know that he is coming this week, and nothing else?” He nods at my words, “Can they not just send a message to inform us that they are on the way?”
“I wish they did,” The guard captain replies to me. That is just great. I would not be surprised if they did this on purpose to try and deliberately get back at Celestia or Luna for something that happened in the not so far off past.
I eye the glass of water a pony just set in front of me in thought. What a bunch of dicks.
Two other earth pony maids walk through the service door carrying the orders of Blueblood and Foresight. The captain ordered what appeared to be a stuffed sandwich of some sort, cheese with a combination of other greens and mushrooms. Blueblood ordered a salad with so many different ingredients that I’m not even bothered to attempt to figure out what is exactly in it. A dark, troubling thought occurs to me.
I’m going to miss bacon, aren’t I? There is pseudo bacon here, but I know that won’t be the real thing. I exhale a somber breath.
Noticing my dower look, “Aunt Celestia, you look as if something dreadful just has happened. Is there important news I am not aware of?” Blueblood politely asks in between swallows of salad. The captain is busy chewing on his sandwich.
You have no idea my new found nephew, no idea. The loss of real meat is a tragedy I’m not sure I can handle in comparison to everything else that has happened to me so far. Perhaps pegasi eat fish? I won’t know until I see it happen.
“Nothing that would matter Blueblood, just another thing that I have to deal with.” I vaguely respond to him, attempting to stop him from having a conversation with me.
“Nonsense, Aunt Luna always gives me that throwaway line if something is troubling her. Matter of fact, she appeared quite cross with you for not appearing for breakfast this morning,” He presses, digging past my non-answer to his question, “Not to mention your, um, new look.”
I blink at him. My pink mane messily cascading down past my neck.
“It is not a topic that I believe needs to be shared at this point, nephew,” I stonewall him completely.
“Very well, Auntie,” He gives me a sidelong glance before returning to his salad. The captain’s ears perked up at my complete dismissal of the prince, but he continues eating without making any other motions.
We dine in silence for the most part afterwards, the sound of soft chewing echoing throughout the practically empty room. They make occasional small talk about a few ponies in the Guard giving the captain trouble. He also mentions other ponies by name. Aurora Will comes up again and a Triumph Shade. Are they captains too? I can’t ask if they are without Blueblood mentioning that I somehow forgot the names of all the important ponies in the Guard to Luna, absolutely frustrating.
Eventually they both finish their meals. Captain Foresight is the first to stand to his hooves, slipping on his helmet. A portion of his brown mane slips past an opening in the back causing it function like a plume of sorts. I cannot see his cutie mark to see what it is since the sectioned pieces of metal of his armor cover his flanks.
“I need to get back to my desk before Aurora throws her paperwork on top of mine,” He states with a aggravated flick of his tail, “She probably already did it too.”
“Have a good rest of the day, captain.” I say to him, my two fore hooves resting on the left and right of the untouched glass of water I ordered.
He gives a tired sigh, “We’ll see if that happens, but thank you, your highness,” Foresight turns and trots away to the double doors I came through earlier.
“Aunt Celestia, would you prefer if I left you the details of Thrifty Haggle’s charges in your study before I leave the castle?” Blueblood asks me, standing to his own hooves.
I have a study? Good to know, more things to explore. I still need to see if I can read anything. Looking at the books from that bookcase in my room to see if I can slipped my mind. Learning to walk is very important business.
“Go ahead, I think I will stay here a bit longer before heading there,” I say to him, my rumination to myself causing him to stand there awkwardly until my answer.
He looks like he wants to ask me another question, but he just shakes his head to himself, “Have a good day, auntie,”
“Good day, nephew,” I politely respond back, turning my light magenta eyes back to the glass of water on the table.
The two wooden double doors clash together shut on his exit, leaving me alone in a massive dining hall. Seeing no one around, I figure it would not hurt to try and attempt to use my magic. I know Luna told me not to do it, but having no fingers to grasp things with and no idea how to use these magnetic hooves is debilitating for a functioning pony.
I stare at the glass, the liquid resting calmly within it. Is magic willpower, do I just will it to happen? A picture of the glass hovering above the table appears in my head. I close my eyes and focus on it. Slowly, I peer back at the glass of water, seeing nothing different. The liquid H2O at the same steady level point it was at before.
“Huh,” I vocalize to myself. That didn’t work, magic isn’t just powered by the imagination then.
Lets try something different then.
I close my eyes again, but this time I relax. A deep steady breath in, a slow exhale outward. I repeat this again, and continue to for several minutes. Time slowly ticks by as I settle into an adhoc meditation. Nothing happens, the darkness of my eyelids is my only reward.
Luna mentioned a magic core, how do you find that? Is it another muscle I can’t feel? I settle for fixing my thoughts on the idea of it, imagining a surging force building at the center of my body. Soft tingles cause my ears to twitch. My horns starts to ache again, and I know immediately that I just made another mistake.
The force that I was fixated on is no longer imaginary. A roiling core of searing heat boils far bigger than I imagined in my center. Warmth washes through my whole body without direction as it springs from limb to limb. I try to halt its progress, imposing barriers in front of it as it whips through. Fizzling sparks shoot out of my horn and the chair I am sitting on leaves the floor.
My eyes snap open and I see the entire room covered in a golden magic aura so thick it might as well have been a smokey haze. Drapes hanging in front of the large glass windows are pressed tightly into the ceiling. The huge wooden dining table groans as its legs scrape across the floor away from me before hovering above in the air. Chairs crash into each other, exploding from the impacts. Panic surges through my head, how do I get it to stop!
The stone floor just beneath the chair I’m floating in cracks under the pressure of the force being pressed against it. A bubbling pain builds in my horn as I wrestle against the now raging river of what is pouring out of me. I can hear something smashing against the double doors leading to the hallway from the outside. Commanding shouts echo from behind the doors. I sense a foreign magic force try to spear past my own, but mine will not budge.
I feel faint. My vision blurs and my consciousness ends with loud crashes and several more exploding chairs.
Slowly, a green grassy field fades into view. A unicorn mare with a sun cutie mark stands in front of me with a apologetic expression on her face. Her smoothly combed pink mane spread across her head. A lengthy pink tail from her behind lightly swishs. I stumble to my feet. She takes two hoofsteps back to give me room to stand up.
“I cannot say that was the most smart action you have taken since your awakening,” The mare observes, an invisible weight on her upturned lips.