//------------------------------// // II - The White Prince // Story: A Sun in Winter // by Sledge115 //------------------------------// II The White Prince * * * * * It was on the last day of Winter that Anna Erklass finally decided, for all the burden it placed on her people to keep these two little foals safe and sound, they were indeed worth keeping. Of course, she couldn’t have possibly smuggled them out and let them be. They were an annoyance at worst, but Grandfather had been right. Who else to raise them right, if not her family? These thoughts were broken as little Celestia tugged at her tail. For the past hour, she had been laying there, observing the paintings hung on the wall as Elsa nimbly chased after the energetic foals in her attempts to feed them. “Anna?” she asked. “What is it, dearie?” Anna replied, smiling. “What’stat?” the foal said, a hoof outstretched towards an innocuous flask, set on the table. “Oh, that?” Anna said. “That’s a little brew Lilja and I made, Celestia.” The green, viscous liquid within the flask had been brewed for many weeks, a project by her and Lilja for, ostensibly, scientific research. But what good a project would do, if it wasn’t demonstrated first?  “Anna, please,” Elsa sighed tiredly. “Sometimes you’re as much of a hoofful as these fillies. How many times have I asked you not to bring your concoctions with you to the dinner table? Someone might forget to read the label and make a…  gut-churning mistake.” “Sorry, Elsa,” Anna smiled crookedly, saying what she’d said so many times before, in response to what her sister had said so many times before. “You know how I am with these brews. It’s like a griffon taking out their sword, I can’t hold it back until it’s drawn blood.” Elsa pulled a face. “Some fine ideas you’re going to put into the children’s heads when they’re barely a year old, sister. Eesh, one moment you’re unhappy at ponies’ bickering, the next you’re fawning over tools of war.” Luna tittered. “What?” “You said ‘fawning’,” Luna giggled. It wasn’t like either of the Reindeer hadn’t heard that one before. “Can try?” Celestia asked, pointing to the flask while Elsa turned her attention back to feeding Luna. Anna laughed. “No, no,” she said, smile turning into a mischievous smirk. “There’s someone else I’d like to try it on.” She gestured towards Elsa, who was now feeding Luna a spoonful of alfalfa. Or trying to feed her. The little filly looked positively aghast at the dish. “You see that, Celestia?” Anna said. “Elsa’s feeding your sister alfalfa, and she herself doesn’t even like alfalfa.” “She need to,” Celestia replied, tilting her head. Anna had to sigh at that. Of course, treating Celestia as the older child would lead to this line of thinking in her young mind. She had to nip it in the bud before one child became a goody-two shoes. Time to pull a trick. “Celestia, please,” she said softly. “Help Luna.” “But green is good!” Celestia replied earnestly. “I know, I know,” Anna replied. She patted Celestia on her back. “But… you never eat your alfalfa, Celestia.” The little foal gasped. Anna smiled mischievously. “Now now, Celestia,” she replied, voice lowering to a conspiratioral whisper. “I won’t tell Elsa… if only you’ll help me with this? Just don’t drink it, alright? It’s stickier than fudge.”  Gently, Anna lifted the flask, and pushed it into Celestia’s forehooves. Celestia looked at it curiously, testing its weight with one hoof, then stared back at her. Not so subtly, Anna pointed at Elsa’s own forehooves. The filly, catching on, beamed and nodded, innocently placing the flask back on the table. Only, as Anna noted, Celestia used her aura to do so. It was remarkable. Like Elsa had pointed out, both fillies were merely three months of age, with Celestia the physical equivalent of a two year old, and Luna a year younger. But they were able to walk and talk, and each had a fairly solid grasp of unicorn magic. Two areas of ponykind’s abilities still remained for them to chart out, however. One was the force of the earth, which was so elusive in a land perpetually covered by ice and snow, to Anna’s occasional regret, given the challenge which it posed to her craft as a chemist. And the other was… “Luna. C’mon,” Celestia said. “Eat greens. Make you strong. Can fly in the sky.” Elsa stared her way gratefully. “Yes. Yes, that’s right, Luna,” she said, holding the spoon back to Luna’s mouth. “You wanna fly, don’t you? Like a big strong dragon.” “Like Reindeer,” added Celestia. Anna coughed, sensing where this was going. “Well, maybe not like every Reindeer,” she said modestly. “I’ve... still got to get the hang of that. Elsa’s the expert when it comes to flying, right?” “It’s not flying,” Elsa corrected on instinct, “it’s air-walking.” “Same difference,” Anna shrugged. “No, it’s not,” Elsa said crossly. “It’s got as much to do with using wings to fly as those death-defying leaps you do along the mountainside have to do with hopscotch. You gotta make your own path in the airs, or you’ll be sent tumbling back down.” “Whatever that’s supposed to mean,” said Anna. “Something to do with us walking along the currents of stardust or something, cos’ that’s what our Grandfather himself was sired from… I don’t know, it all sounds like mumbo-jumbo to me.” Both fillies stared at the does, then at each other in confusion. “See?” said Anna. “They don’t get it either.” “And that’s why you’re not their teacher, Anna,” Elsa sighed. “Oh, alright then, Miss Educational,” Anna said, making a show of pouting. “Tell me, if you’re so smart, why don’t you show us how it’s done?” Elsa blinked. “I don’t think now’s the best t–” But Anna pulled her aside. “C’mon, sis,” she said. “Don’t you want to see the looks of wonder on their darling little faces? And besides,” she added, whispering into her sister’s ear, “once you’ve got Luna’s mouth all agape, you can make her swallow that spoonful, no problem.” This got Elsa thinking. “Alright,” she agreed. “Just to delight all the kids here… That includes you, by the way.” “Oh, don’t worry. Anything to help your problems go away.” Anna paused, thought a second, then whispered again,  “Elsa, will you do the dance along the walls? Please? The kids love that one.” “Fair enough…” Elsa said composedly, turning to address the fillies. “Very well, if all of you could sit down? Then I shall begin.” For a change, all three obeyed her without discourse. But Anna spotted Celestia nudging Luna, with a meaningful glance at the table. Decidedly quick on the uptake, Luna seemed to grasp her meaning the moment she spotted the flask. Fortunately, Elsa was too wrapped up in mentally gearing herself to see what was coming her way. The dance took off slowly. First, the room appeared to grow a little darker as, although no windows were left open in Sint Erklass’ castle upon this cold night, here at the top of the world’s highest mountain, candle-light dimmed as the flames blew in a phantom gust, drawn towards the Snow Maiden as she sashayed. Accordingly, the airs around Elsa Erklass began to glow, as if she were shining with an inner light. The base of her hooves turned a brightest white, an ethereal current snaking into the stone floor, now rising in specks of what might be taken for pure, golden dust… Stardust. Everywhere there’s life, there is stardust. Despite herself, Anna swallowed a small gulp of reverention awe at the sight. She did not even turn to see the fillies’ reaction. Better that she be surprised and see what they did next, after witnessing this. Countless golden motes of dust, made visible by Elsa’s art for the purposes of tonight's spectacle, thus swirled and billowed, coming so close together they might have been mistaken for one, solid surface – like the rings of planets, shaping into an incline which rose from the floor to the ceiling like a spiral staircase. It stretched through the length and height of their dining room. Elsa, her eyes closed in concentration, traced one of her forehooves in a circle, then one hindhoof, followed by the other shimmying across the smooth floor. As her warm-up reached its apex with a twirl of her hooves, the Snow Maiden leapt forward, with seeming effortlesslness, onto that golden, swirling incline of light and air. It was a gentle, elegant leap, much different from Anna’s own energetic stunts on the rocky outcrops. When Elsa landed with nary a sound upon the gossamer spiral, one would have trusted her to display the same subtlety if she had taken the jump from a great height. Smiling demurely, Elsa pranced – there was no other word for it – upon the intangible bedding she’d made for herself in the airs, at ease as any deer in a meadow. They watched the Snow Maiden perform this elegiac, four-hooved ballet which Anna, scrounging from some distant memory, recalled was known as the Dance of the Seasons. Not that she’d ever thought of it by that name. To her, it was the dance of her beloved sister, the Snow Maiden. The wall-to-wall dance. … And at this moment, it made Elsa a prime target. “NOW!” she cried out, and the two little alicorns obliged. Elsa whirled around, surprised, but too late, as tendrils of the sticky paste shot out the flask, guided by the alicorns’ magic. Though their magic was primitive and poorly co-ordinated, the paste itself was more than up to the task, smacking into Elsa with such force that she splattered onto the ceiling. From one moment to the next, the Snow Maiden’s position had gone from graceful and ethereal to the butt of a practical joke by her sister. Coughing and spluttering out Anna’s green mystery paste, Elsa blinked several times until she’d cleared her eyes, only to discover the paste had rapidly solidified to encase all four of her hooves, neat as you please, sticking her upside-down. Her cries were drowned out by the giggles of the three children below her. None more childish than her unregally amused sister. “Gotcha!” Anna wheezed between fits of laughter. “What a shot!” “Anna!” Elsa growled, her red-faced head swaying as she pulled helplessly at the paste covering her forehooves. “What in the Sky’s name d’you do that for?” “Oh, Elsa, you silly doe,” Anna replied merrily, wrapping the fillies in a protective embrace. “It’s all in good fun, right? I told you I’d help you make your problems with feeding them go away!” “Da,” little Luna spoke up, while her sister nodded vigorously. Both of them were obviously happy to be off hook from eating their greens, whatever ‘greens’ meant to a herbivorous pony. Anna privately suspected they’d just been troublesome for the sake of it. “High-five, Celestia, Luna,” Anna said, lightly slapping each of the filly’s forehooves in turn, a complicitous gesture and parody of physical punishment. “That’s your aiming skills tested for the day.” Still above them,  Elsa shook her head. “Ugh, this stuff just won’t… let… go,” Elsa groaned, clenching her teeth. She gaving it another tug, which proved no more successfu. “An-NA! Help me down!” Before Elsa could do more than continue to glare daggers at Anna, the ornately carved double-doors to their private dining room swung open. Checking her mirth, Anna stood at attention to see in stride the pale doe who’d brought the two alicorns here. “Evenin’, everyone,” Lilja said, rather nonchalantly. All else was smothered by excited squeals and laughter from Celestia and Luna, who jumped away from Anna to scoot, nearly stumbling, towards their first guardian and the first motherly figure in their lives. Lilja was no less happy to see them, her wan features brightening as she welcomed the two fillies into her embrace. “Laerer,” Anna greeted her. “All better, are you? I knew those cuts and bruises were nothing one of my concotions couldn’t handle, but… I was worried that Windigo had left its icy mark on your heart.” The older doe nodded, smiling softly. “Not after the Allfather was done working his magic,” Lilja told her warmly, clutching the fillies. “The Windigoes have no power in Adlaborn, not so long as your grandfather keeps the hearth aglow, Anna. I can personally testify to that. And how’re the girls doing?” she added, tightening her grip around the fillies affectionately. “Remember me, little princesses?” The loving nuzzle Luna gave her was all the answer she needed. “Did you take them to see Firefly?” Lilja asked Anna. “I may have had the honor to be the one their eyes first saw upon awakening… But it’s only right that they know the last pony from a more peaceful time.” “Aye, we did,” Anna nodded. “Firefly does enjoy their company.”  She felt an old doubt wash over her.  “But, Laerer, may I ask you something? Do you really think the three pony tribes will accept these children who are neither unicorn, nor of the earth or the sky, but something else? The tribes have barely started learning to get along again.” Lilja chuckled softly. “Anna, why else do you think they were born in that cave, where three ponies from each tribe made peace, even as the ice claimed them? Sint Erklass saw that star, the Tear of the Lady, burst in half… Two newborns stars for two newborn fillies,, a sign from Faust that her plan was in motion.” ‘Faust’, Anna repeated inwardly. Of course, everything had to be a part of that enigmatic alicorn’s plan, even in the centuries past her disappearance. Faust’s interference in Lilja’s survival, if any, was hardly discernable. Splitting a star, however, was perplexing. “The twin stars…” Anna said wistfully. “But, who else could have done it?” “I suppose that’s a question for another day,” Lilja replied. “At least, the unicorn astronomers claimed it was so. Which brings me to my news, Anna. The three tribes’ delegates are arriving.” Anna’s ears perked up. “They are?” she asked. “They’ve crossed the border, and are on the way to the gates,” said Lilja. “Then, then, what’re we waiting for? Let’s go!” Anna exclaimed. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about ponies in Adlaborn, even with the two fillies Lilja had brought. But she didn’t want to miss this. It’d be a shame, a complete embarassment, for anyone to miss out on. With a twirl, Anna lifted up Luna onto her back, Lilja doing likewise with Celestia, trailing after them. A long time after they’d left, the lone figure stuck on the ceiling finally realized they weren’t coming back in a hurry. “I need to scratch my nose,” Elsa grumbled. * * * * * The snow underhoof felt different here. “Have you felt it, sir?” Duke Blueblood asked, by way of greeting, the white-coated pegasus in armor who’d drawn level with the unicorn procession. “Felt what, Your Grace?” asked the pegasus guard. Blueblood hadn’t caught his name, but he’d glanced from the fellow’s armor - insulated and well-suited for the Winter – that this particular pegasus, as well as many others in their company, hailed from the settlements closest to the Frozen North. Far further North than any pegasi he’d expected to meet, truly. “The snow, sir,” Blueblood replied. “Not your kind’s work, I presume?” The days following that miracle night had been filled with hectic arrangement for both Blueblood and his entourage. He stood at the head of their procession, leading a group of some two-score unicorns. Despite her desire to come along, Princess Platinum had agreed to stay where she was, to await the melting of the snow. The endless Winter that had ravaged their lands for so long was in retreat, and in the first month of this new era, Duke Blueblood was finding the icy landscape before him strangely more welcoming than he once would have. Just as in the days before, Blueblood would have felt much warier of the pegasi he’d come to meet. Now he saw only a fellow pony travelling with his own people, out to see the strange little fillies who’d captivated their minds. Blueblood silently contemplated the gifts Clover the Clever had chosen to give to these alicorn fillies, and one in particular. Of all the strange thing to offer to a child, Clover had picked an abacus. But the ‘clever’ epithet plainly stood for something, given Clover’s role in beating back the Winter which had besieged them so long. A Winter more cruel and unnatural than the one which greeted them here. “Aye,” said the pegasus. “The snow in these lands comes and goes as it wills. But with the Windigoes gone… perhaps we pegasi can make something out of the barren wastes.” “And you won’t be doing it alone, I hope, no longer,” Blueblood supplied. They continued their walk together, their processions merging into one, with Blueblood and the pegasus guard taking the lead. Behind them marched their folk, guards and distinguished fellows, clad in winter armor or caparisons for warmth. Blueblood was no exception, having eschewed his usual jerkin for a caparison bearing the colors of his family, complemented by a thick scarf. On this occasion, his blond mane too was braided, if only to keep up some measure of formality. The worst was already past in these harsh lands, Blueblood decided. The processions had long since entered the indistinct borders of Adlaborn, following the few markers left by the Reindeer that roamed these lands. Unforgiving tundras had given way for the hardy pines, spruces and moss native to the land of the Reindeer. The further they trekked, the closer the gaps between the trees. While the forest brought images of wolves, bears, and other hardy creatures lurking beneath its shade to the mind of Duke Blueblood, there was a strange warmth here which the unconquered forests of his old land did not bring. Evidently, from the way their group began to mingle and huddle as they walked, he was not the only one who thought so. He saw a shimmering light etched in one of the trees nearby, and smiled. “See here?” Blueblood said aloud. The procession stopped, and stared to where he pointed. It was a stylised snowflake. “The Mark of the Snow Maiden. We’re close, my fellow travelers.” “Wouldn’t have guessed!” a pegasus bemoaned. “But how’d you know? Are you really sure this isn’t some earthpony trick?” Blueblood rolled his eyes. Nothing changes overnight, and yet they had picked the most open-minded of their people for this excursion. Days of travelling into unfamiliar territory had put a few back on edge. “Earthponies? How could they have arrived first?” asked a unicorn, one of Clover’s fellow students.  “Earthponies are hardy enough as they are,” the pegasus captain spoke. “They may have well have arrived a week before we set out. Besides, look.” The captain pointed. Blueblood spotted a lone stag. His coat a rich dark brown, the stag stood there, silently, grey gaze washing over them. Slung across his sturdy back was a quill full of arrows, though Blueblood saw no bow to go with them. Blueblood took a step forwards, and bowed. “To whom do we owe the honour?” The stag said nothing, at first, continuing his silent observation. “Duke Blueblood, Captain Stormbreak,” he spoke aloud. “We have been expecting you.” He turned to leave, without giving his name. Blueblood and the pegasus leader looked at one another. Without further hesitation, they followed in the stag’s wake, keeping a fair distance away from one another. So they went, quiet in their trek, with only the sounds of cruncing snow beneath thems, and the accompanying wind. The trees here grew taller, and winding, tested by the biting winds. Icicles hung from the branches, and the snow piled up high. Winter this far North always had lasted longer, with no one to watch over its freezing touch. Yet, the first bloom of Spring bloom had now come to the far off Griffish Isles, and the first new settlements on the Eastern Coast. Blueblood glanced back, at his followers, and Stormbreak’s people too. The unicorns and pegasi, the gentry and the scholars and the soldiers, going together as one, to both lead and protect. And with the hardy earthponies, so their homes would stand tall and firm. With the Reindeer’s guidance too, of course, until the time came for the two little alicorns to claim their place in this world. ‘Speaking of which…’ He paused a moment, signaling for Stormbreak to continue and his delegation to follow the pegasus. They gave him questioning glances, but obeyed, the unicorns trusting in the instructions of their Duke and Prince, the pegasi trusting in the easy manner between him and their Captain. Blueblood let them pass, one by one, until he was given a space to himself. Even this far North, there was a trace of Spring. He had spied it from the corner of his eye. A small patch of white flowers, drooped down like bells. Snowdrop was their name, and there was beauty in their simplicity. ‘I don’t suppose the Eastern Unicorns have these in their gardens…’  He knelt down to inspect the flowers perking through the snow. Now, he was no gardener, of course, but he had just enough werewithal to pluck them safely, and preserve their beauty. Just a few stalks and bulbs. Blueblood’s horn glowed. His golden aura drew upon the snow beneath his hooves, gently melting it into a fluid state that was somewhere between water and ice, which he raised from the ground in thin, delicate strands that rose until they reached his eyes. Deftly, the strands wove together into six sheets of something not unlike glass, chiming in tune to his aura’s glow. Smiling, Blueblood softly whispered a final spell, crystalising the sheets so they wouldn’t melt again. He picked three of the tough little flowers, and delicately, he pressed them between the crystalline sheets, preserving them. ‘I owe you for that trick, Mistmane,’ Blueblood thought, tucking the now-preserved flowers beneath his caparison. ‘Now… let’s see if the Snow Maiden fancies a gift or two.’ Few had ought but good thing to say of the Snow Maiden, Sint Erklass’ reknowned granddaughter. They spoke of her beauty, her grace, and her prowess in the magical arts. Some even said, perhaps hyperbolically, that she cast the first snow, blowing it into the winds. Others said she was the one being to stand alone against the unforgiving Winter. And still others claimed she was white as snow, or pale blue as the icy shores to the North. But Duke Blueblood, above all, wanted to know what she was truly like. With a blissful smirk, he trotted to rejoin the procession at its head, and they continued down their winding path. It didn’t take long at all for the surrounding wilderness to change yet again, as the company came to a halt before a wall of trees. It was no mere hedge. The trees’ trunks intertwined so tightly and so deeply that none could see what lay beyond. Inscribed upon the wood were symbols, much like those rough-cut carvings that had marked their path to this hidden sanctuary. At first, none dared to move. Then the stag who’d guided them reappeared, pressing one mark, the mark of the Snow Maiden. And the wood… parted. It flowed, like water, twisting and turning, with the creaking of wood and the rustling of the evergreen leaves, to reveal an entrance. On the other side of this gate lay a snow-covered field, with a gravel path cutting right through the middle. In the distance, illuminated by the faint rays of the Sun shining through the clouds, lay a city unlike any other. A city where each of its buildings were carved and grown, not hammered or chiseled into shape, from the towering pines and firs, their trunks intertwined with crystalline gem-lights The very people here seemed to glow with their hearts’ call. None spoke then, too captivated as they were by the sight that greeted them, on this Winter morning. Even Blueblood stood silent, his eyes wide as saucers. And there in the entrance stood a doe. Tall, light brown, her reddish mane tied into two braids, with a warm smile to greet them all. She spoke, in a soft, pleasant voice that made Blueblood think of Summer. “Welcome to Vologda.” * * * * * A stranger’s view of Vologda must have been that of childlike wonder. Anna had met the delegation at the gates, all silent. So awed were they, it took a solid minute for the stallion at the head of the procession, a white unicorn, to acknowledge her presence and give her a graceful bow. “My Lady,” said the unicorn. “It’s an honour to meet a Princess of Adlaborn.” He reached for her hoof, taking it into his, and planted a gentle kiss upon it. And Anna blinked at that, letting out a short laugh. “My apologies,” she said. “I don’t, ah, usually handle these matters.”  She gave an acknowledging nod to the pegasus Captain. He was dressed head to hoof in segmented armor, rugged and very much functional. Decorum was never her finesse, yet she knew enough to present herself formally. “And whom am I welcoming, sir?” Anna asked mellifluously. “Captain Stormbreak, at your service,” the pegasus said. The unicorn stood straight, clearing his throat. His white coat was slightly brighter than the rugged, dirty-white pegasus next to him. His eyes were of a light, vibrant amber, and they matched well with his braided, platinum-blonde mane. On his caparison lay what Anna took to be his mark – three golden crowns. “Duke Polaris of House Blueblood, my lady,” he said, with another nod, and a handsome, flashing smile. “If I must say… Adlaborn is graced by your protection, Snow Maiden.” ‘Hang on… what?’ “Oh,” Anna blurted out. She shook her head. “I… think you must’ve mistaken me for my sister, Duke Blueblood. No… I’m Anna Erklass, simply Anna.” Though he kept it well-hidden, there was something that certainly changed, behind his polite smile and gaze. Whether it was for the better, or for worse, Anna could not tell. “Oh, forgive me, my lady,” Blueblood said. If he was flustered, he hid it well, but next to him, Stormbreak suppressed a smile.  “No, no, it’s… fine, it’s fine,” said Anna, mustering a smile. “First time anyone’s got us confused, really, heh, heh…” She glanced at the procession behind the Duke. Unicorns and pegasi, yet no earthponies yet. Perhaps they were just late. Still, Anna felt some lingering relief that these were the only ponies she had to receive for now. The two fillies might have grown on her, true, yet the others were… “Ahem, if I may,” asked one of the unicorns behind Blueblood, a young, chestnut-coloured stallion. “Where are the foals, my lady?” Speaking of which. “Ah, right,” Anna said. She’d left them with Lilja and Grandfather, if only to keep the anticipation going amongst the delegates, a piece of theatricality which her teacher and the Allfather had surprisingly approved. Lilja didn’t seem to have noticed Elsa on the ceiling. Anna wondered if Lilja had even noticed that Elsa wouldn’t be there to greet the procession. Certainly, neither Anna’s teacher nor her grandfather had questioned Anna going to open Vologda’s gates in the stead of her illustrious sister. Anna was a Reindeer, and sometimes Reindeer felt as inscrutable her as she’d heard they felt to everyone else. She wondered at her own sense of humour, and indeed her family’s. She turned, beckoning the ponies to join her down this winding path.  * * * * * A Reindeer village was nothing like any that Blueblood’s kind had built. Vologda was nothing like what any one race had built. Much like the woodlands and tundra that surrounded it, it was a city grown from the hard terrain. Perhaps grown wasn’t entirely right. No, it was a city carved, nurtured, and grown alongside its people. There wasn’t much he, or Stormbreak, or their procession could say to it. They followed Anna Erklass, sister to the Snow Maiden, as strangers in these strange lands, yet they felt welcomed as one. They walked in silence. Anna kept quiet, and Blueblood suspected it was to their benefit, so they could take in the sights. He only saw an enchanted beauty, all around them. The afternoon rays of the Sun illuminated the city, its light reflecting off the many gems that hung from branch to branch. There was snow here, too, piled upon the roofs of these humble dwellings, or shoveled aside. Somehow, though Blueblood didn’t feel cold at all. Vologda, he observed, was a city made of roots and branches. Rows of homes lined each spiralled, twisting path, with each main branch leading to the great pine tree that stood in the middle of the city. Pathways flowed and turned, and curved with the hills, and untouched groves were scattered throughout.   The Reindeer kept to themselves, most of the time. There were fawns playing in the streets, chasing after one another, jumping from branch to branch. Young couples sharing a quiet stroll, or old friends meeting one another. Families gathered in their abodes, the warmth of the fireplace spread for all to take comfort in. Pairs of curious eyes looked at him, and his people, and their winged cousins, while they passed through the central square, the great pine tree looming over it all. Not for the first time, Blueblood wondered if ponykind would ever achieve such harmony of its own. They followed Anna up the mountain path. Before long, the great city they’d traversed through was but a distant, if radiant sight to their backs.  Blueblood glanced at Stormbreak beside him. Control of the weather, Blueblood remembered, was always fought between the pegasi and the primordial forces of the lands down South. One of those duties special to a pony tribe, as all of them knew. Yet, even having come together, it still didn’t feel enough... Stormbreak noticed his glance, and gave him a nudge. “If I may, sire,” he said. “You ought to save your eyes for the Maiden of Snow.” Blueblood couldn’t do much but smile, as the Captain pointed ahead. “We’re here.” They’d reached the castle gates. The Castle of Zamok Ustyag, a stronghold built from the very mountain. Its stones were engraved with writing, in the old northern languages, giving its rugged appearance some measure of grace. A great tower rose up above the whole, a solitary peak to watch over the realm.  The gates were large, and heavy, and much like the hedgerow that surrounded Vologda, looked to all the world akin to a messy crisscrossing of wood and stone, woven within one another. Llike their unnamed guide at the city gates, Anna pressed a forehoof upon a carved snowflake on the gates, where the handle would be. The gates parted The procession and their guide entered, their steps echoing through the halls. The castle’s ceilings were far and high, supported by twisted, wooden pillars grown from the carved wood-and-stone floor. Lanterns and gemstones provided light, basking them all in that sense of inner warmth which pervaded the city. They were not alone here. The Allfather waited at the center of the four-pointed entrance hall. The great stag, his coat a rich, deep red and his mane as white as ice, was taller than any being Polaris Blueblood had ever seen. By his side, in the shadow of his majestic antlers, was a silver doe. His smile was like the very fire of the hearth. “Welcome, Duke Blueblood, Captain Stormbreak.” Sint’s voice rumbled, with a glee befitting a much younger buck. He bowed. “Allfather,” Stormbreak bowed in turn, and Blueblood and their entourage followed suit. “It’s such a fine thing to be here, in your presence.” They stood a little straighter. Blueblood’s eyes, however, were drawn to the two little foals that emerged from their hiding spot behind the silver doe. The taller of the two, a filly with a coat of purest alabaster and a light pink mane, tilted her head curiously upon sighting him. And the shorter one, a little filly whose coat was a light, pleasant shade of blue, and her mane lighter still, tugged at her sister’s tail playfully. ‘So… these are the foals…’ His gaze drifted to Sint’s right, from where the foals had emerged – and paused upon seeing her, the object of his quest. Elegant, tall, graceful, Elsa Erklass was a silver-blue doe, her long, flowing mane as white as snow, braided primly, quite unlike his own. Though she looked oddly weary, judging from the look in her icy blue eyes, she kept a tranquil air as  her gaze swept over his companions.  With a flutter in his heart and a calm, confident smirk, Blueblood realised at that only this could be the Snow Maiden of Adlaborn. “Arise, friends, arise,” said Sint, interrupting his thoughts. “A rest is much needed, for you all, I’m sure of it… and yet…” Blueblood followed the Allfathers’ eyes and saw where they landed. “Anna, dear,” said Sint, his wry grin showing through his imposing facade. He glanced at Elsa Erklass, who gave Anna a rather annoyed glare. “We need to talk.” And Anna Erklass could only sigh. * * * * * So it was that day turned into night, and the Moon shone silver upon Vologda. One by one all other lights were dimmed, from the gems that hung in the branches of the pines, to the candlelight from within each dwelling, large and small. Fawns were tucked into their beds, their eyes shut with the pleasant dreams to follow their sleep. Those few who walked the pathways returned to their homes, their day at a close. And soon all was calm in the great northern city, with nothing else but the howling of the wind beyond, and the wind chimes to fill the last night of winter. Yet in these quiet hours, there were still those that stirred in the night. For there at a far-off, quiet corner of the enchanted wall around the city, something emerged from the deep woods. A cloaked, hooded figure, keeping a brisk pace, as it neared the ancient hedgerow. Clad in a dark, grey cloak, the intruder glanced nervously at its sides, waiting with bated breath, for any predator could still lurk in the darkness outside Vologda. There were none, and the figure released its breath. It took a few steps closer to the enchanted hedgerow, tracing a hoof the colour of thistle along its edge. It paused, finding its spot, and smiled in relief. ‘Still here…’ the tresspasser thought. Leaning forward, she whispered a few words, in a very old tongue that predated even the enchantments placed upon this protective wall. “Come, open up your doors, Winter’s Hearth. Let a friend enter… and blessed be your days…” The wood parted, the leaves dissolved, and the mare passed through into Vologda. And the walls closed up no sooner had she stepped through, No matter – she had a friend to see. With no sentries around, not in this oft-forgotten side of the wall, her path was clear. Without another word, nor hesitation, the mare continued her trek – onwards to the great northern mountain. It was a quiet, tranquil night, afterwards.