The Rariad
By Tundara
8: Gaea
Trixie’s screams rattled through the humble palace. Rarity was there at once, gently shaking the writhing mare out of turbulent nightmares.
Covered in cold sweat, eyes blinking bleary in the silvery glow slanting through the windows, Trixie asked, “Did I do it again?”
“It is nothing to be ashamed of, darling,” Rarity comforted Trixie, gently brushing her friend’s mane away from her face. “I wish there was something I could do to make the nightmares go away.”
Reaching up to grasp Rarity’s hoof, Trixie smiled thinly, her face white beneath her pastel blue coat. “You helped me escape Amaymon, but no-pony can help me escape what is in my own head.”
Snorting, Rarity replied, “Oh, but you managed to do that for me! Sadly, I am not nearly as accomplished a magician as the great and powerful Trixie. I’m sorry, darling, I’ve not been able to do anything more for you.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Trixie slumped deeper into her woolen sheets, and drifted back into troubled sleep.
Rarity stayed next to Trixie’s bed for a short time. Gently, she brushed the mare’s mane and tucked the covers up to her chin. Dawn began to encroach on the horizon, golden haired Eos rousing Hemera from her slumber to begin a new day before Rarity was satisfied Trixie wasn’t having any more nightmares. Working a crick out of her neck, Rarity decided to go downstairs and find some breakfast before trying to figure out what to do with her first full day on Gaea.
She had no idea how to proceed. The spell used to escape Amaymon was designed to create a rift to the mortal realm. Which it clearly had done. Only, it’d taken her to the wrong world.
Or, had it taken her somewhere else in the shifting realms hidden beyond the Winterlands?
Rarity tapped a wing to her chin as she mulled the idea over and poured herself some fresh juice.
No, Gaea was a mortal world, just like Ioka. A great disc upon the back of an enormous turtle swimming through the vast void.
There was certainly nothing saying that there weren’t other worlds beyond the edge of Ioka’s disc. In fact, it made sense in a way. The priestesses did say that Ioka was ‘A’ world-turtle, and not ‘The’ world-turtle. Which meant that there had to be others out there. But, Rarity already knew all that, of course, from her time fighting Serene, and then the left-over scraps of the dead alicorn’s memories.
It just never occurred to her before that the worlds existed in the same realm, so to speak.
Groaning at the metaphysical quandaries of multiple worlds and realms of reality, Rarity sat down and rubbed away a growing headache. Idly a hoof went to her neck and played with the string of pearls resting against the curve of her throat.
Perhaps a teleportation spell then?
No, that would never work for Trixie, and Rarity wasn’t sure it would work for her, either. Twilight once explained how teleporting used more aether the further a pony attempted to go. Teleporting from one side of Equestria to the other drained all but the most powerful unicorns. This was besides the fact that it was absolutely freezing in the non-space a pony entered between points, and that it took time as well as energy to traverse long distances. The longest teleport on Ioka took a half-hour, Twilight claimed, and the unfortunate unicorn had emerged frozen solid. Going from world to world, with no idea of the distance between, was out of the question.
Unless some other method was discovered.
“If there was some way, wouldn’t Astraea have used that instead, though?” Rarity asked herself as she chewed on a partially stale piece of bread.
“Who can say why glittering maned Astraea tore her stars from the heavens, leaving a dark hole in the night that bleeds contempt to this day.” Hypocemia spoke as she trotted quickly up to the table and took a place across from Rarity. “The thoughts and motivations of the betrayer gods are a mystery even to their glorious kin, who preside over all knowledge and vouch skill upon the worthy.”
With Hypocemia came a servant with a serving tray balanced on her head. With natural agility, she swept the tray off her head and onto the table in front of Rarity then retreated to a shadowed corner to await any commands of her mistress.
On the tray was a splendid array of fruits arrayed like bands of sunlight around an inner ring composed of pancakes and more bread, with a bowl of undiluted red wine as the core. There was a sweet, fruity fragrance to the wine that perked up the senses. Taking a couple of the pancakes and apple slices, Rarity drizzled them with honey syrup. She left the bread and wine alone.
“Oh, I wasn’t asking a real question, darling. Just talking to myself.” Rarity smiled, and the mare smiled back. Oddly, there was none of the differential treatment or constant bowing that Rarity had endured since landing on Gaea. It was a relief that at least one pony treated her normally.
Indicating the tray, Rarity suggested, “Why don’t you join me?”
Hypocemia nodded, and took a small bowl of sweetened wine and thick slices of bread. The bread she dipped into the wine before taking a measured bite. Rarity raised an eyebrow, and decided to imitate her hostess.
They broke fast in silence for some time, until Hypocemia asked, “What are your intentions, great lady of the heavens, beloved of the dawn?”
Rarity considered the question before she answered. “I have to get home to Ioka, obviously. I also need to help Trixie. Without her I’d still be in Tartarus lost in a maze of my own mind. I just need some clue how to accomplish these goals.”
“If there is any who have your answers, it would be the gods,” Hypocemia answered. It seemed to be the single response anypony on Gaea had to a question where they didn’t have the answer themself. It was starting to grate on Rarity’s nerves.
“Nopony knows everything. Not even an alicorn,” Rarity reflexively corrected, mopping up some of the sweet syrup on her plate.
Hypocemia was clearly dubious, but didn’t argue and instead looked furtively to the north. “Please, forgive my boldness, but why do you stay here with us rather than go to your kin high upon holy Olympus? Alas! Hear me question a god! One of golden maned Zeus’ own mighty kin. I apologize, as I know it is not my place to question you, fair Rarity. Yet, my heart trembles with fear. What if your kin atop the snow shrouded peaks of Olympus, who watch and tend to the world, grow angered because you stayed here with us mortals, instead of visiting them first?”
Rarity tilted her head. “In all honesty, I would rather avoid them, if at all possible, darling. And, if I do go and speak with them, it will be to give them a piece of my mind about how everypony is treated.”
“You would challenge them?” Hypocemia reared back as if she found herself confronting a poisonous viper. “What cause do you have for anger? Alas, again I question!”
“Because it is intolerable and disgusting that Earth ponies are kept as property!” Rarity had to fight hard to keep her voice in check, forcing it out in a low growl rather than a shriek. “Slaves; indeed! How horrible and barbaric!”
Pale in the morning light slanting through the windows, Hypocemia stuttered, “B-But, it is normal. Natural even. Earth ponies can’t protect themselves from the dangers and monsters that roam the world, those beasts and monsters deformed by wild magic. Unicorns are so few in number, and those needed to keep everypony safe, that we must spend our time honing our magic and martial strength. Long days must the colts spend mastering spell and spear that they have no time to dedicate to mundane tasks. As Earth ponies can no more protect themselves than a new hatched chick can fend off the viper slinking into its nest, they provide their skills tending to the fields or the needs around the home. Thusly freed to dedicate ourselves to martial tasks or the rearing of our foals, unicorns shoulder the burdens of bloodshed and war.”
A heated fury gripped Rarity, and she had to remind herself that these ponies knew nothing of Equestria, and she knew nothing of them. Still, there was a very sharp edge to her tone as she replied, “And what is stopping you from washing your own laundry, or cleaning your home, darling? Why don’t you cook your own meals?”
The argument rang hollow in Rarity’s own ears, as the aristocracy of Equestria kept servants. The only practical difference between the slaves kept by the Athenians and the servants hired by Equestrians were those of wages and housing.
Slavery wasn’t foreign even to Equestria, with the earliest unicorns having brought scores of Earth ponies with them to the new land. It was a system that hadn’t survived the Long Winter, everypony having to come together to survive the untamed lands and deal with the Windigos attacks. Though, much of the credit went to the Founders for bringing the three tribes of ponykind together in unity.
“You wound me deeply with your observations. Wish as I might to call them unfair, how can a mortal question the ways of an alicorn, and not suffer her displeasure in turn,” Hypocemia said, jarring Rarity out of her thoughts. “Instead, I will say with all good humility, that we wives and daughters of Athens do not have it easy. We too must toil at the loom and weave the best tunics for our stallion-folk. Then we need organise the slaves to their tasks and see that each is mindful. For that we must know that tasks just as well, or else a lazy slave may try some mischief to avoid work. There is no time for leisure or rest as you assume. Everypony has their duty and toils, even the wives and daughters of kings.”
Rarity frowned at the explanation. “Yet you are free, darling. You can follow your passions and hone your special talents. Can an Earth pony who has a cutie mark for art spend their days in a studio painting, when they are told to farm? Can an Earth pony with a talent for mathematics come up with a new theory that would benefit everypony?”
Of all the replies Rarity imagined, the one she didn’t was Hypocemia asking with total frankness, “What is a ‘cutie mark’?”
Almost choking on her juice, Rarity indicated the mark on her flank.
“We refer to those, and those blessed with such markings, as god-touched, or the demi-gods. For surely those are signs of particular favour of a god. Such as your servant, Lady Trixie. Few are those who receive such marks. More so among Athenians, whom are the most dejected and overlooked ponies.” Hypocemia shifted aside her dress to reveal her own bare flank, covering herself back up after a moment. She then continued, “Why, other than my beloved Hector, who surely now resides among the golden fields of Elysium, only a mere half-dozen ponies in all of Athens are so marked.”
“Six ponies in the entire city found their cutie marks?” Rarity was aghast at the idea of an entire city of ponies having never found their special talents. “That is simply horrible!”
Before Hypocemia could respond, Rarity was on her hooves and at the door to the courtyard. Beckoning to the young mare, Rarity stepped out into the sun. “Come on, darling.”
Darting after Rarity, Hypocemia bit her lower lip. She stopped at the threshold of the street. “I musn’t!” Hypocemia shifted from hoof to hoof as if she stood atop blistering rocks. “Mares are not allowed to leave their home unescorted so near the Season. A member of my husband’s household must be present, lest I draw scandal on his house. Never could I bring such misery to my dear Hector when he is no longer amongst the living.”
In the middle of the street, Rarity slowly turned back to face Hypocemia, a flat expression etched onto her marble features. “And now mares can’t even leave their own homes! Abominable!”
Before Hypocemia could protest any further, Rarity plucked her up in her own, and started off down the street. As much as she struggled, Hypocemia could no more escape Rarity’s aura than she could hold back a storm by shouting curses at the sky. Ponies stopped what they were doing to stare at the spectacle, mouths agape as a wind snagged the ends of Hypocemia’s dress. Emitting a sharp ‘meep’, she twisted around to hold her skirts down and maintain her decency.
Rarity smirked at Hypocemia’s embarrassment. It was a little mean, but also in good fun, that Rarity carried the squirming mare towards the markets.
All about them ponies bowed deeply. Telling everypony to stop would take far too long, so Rarity decided to just leave them to their superstitions for the time being. Eventually the Athenians would learn that they didn’t have to bow to her. She would have to work out a way of spreading the word.
Athens markets, as with everything else about the city, were shabby affairs. The produce on display, while healthy and expertly grown, was thin in quantity. It was the same everywhere Rarity looked. Only a few bracelets in the jewelers displays. The bolts of cloth available were sparser. And the clothes! Rarity shook her head in dismay at the almost empty racks that held only the same, off-white slips that every mare seemed to wear.
Everywhere they went, Rarity and Hypocemia were met with surprise. It was the reactions Hypocemia elicited that drew the most ire.
“Where is your eunuch?” One especially blunt stall operator blurted out. “Sure, my lady, you didn’t leave the security of the palace without an escort!”
Blushing deeply, Hypocemia indicated Rarity, “If the mighty lady, who shines bright enough that the sun would grow jealous, is not escort enough, then no amount of my father’s servants would detour the most unwanted advances of a stallion. Besides, great Hera has seen fit to bless me with a foal by my beloved Hector.”
“Honestly, whatever was he thinking,” Rarity fumed in Hypocemia’s place as they moved on. “I have never seen such boorish manners before!”
“He merely said what others have thought. Look about and you will see no mare without the company of either family, or one of the household for protection of her modesty. Especially so as the Season nears.”
“This is worse than being in the Pre-Classical period,” Rarity groaned to herself, rolling her eyes theatrically, “Is it like this everywhere?”
“Oh, no! The vile mares of the Spartans have no decency. They flaunt themselves before stallions, like wild rabbits in a field, all come-hither glances and fluttering eyelashes. It is said that they even learn how to use magic normally reserved for soldiers or philosophers. That they may even vote! Can you imagine such a thing?” Hypocemia covered her mouth and flattened her ears as if mortified by the mere thought.
Stifling a groan, Rarity flatly said, “Yes, whatever would happen to society if mares could vote.”
Either ignoring or not detecting the obvious sarcasm, Hypocemia nodded, and said, “Of course you understand, as there is no voting among the gods. Zeus may hold his councils, but it is his will alone that is final.”
Reaching the end of the market, Rarity doubled-back, now with Hypocemia trotting along beside her.
A flash of inspiration striking her, Rarity gathered a few bolts of cloth, spools of thread, and a collection of various sea shells. The greater difficulty was having the merchants accept payment in the form of I.O.Us. Not because they wanted proper gold coins, rather, they kept insisting she have the items for free. The I.O.Us served as a compromise, the merchants probably expecting never to be repaid.
Rarity grinned thinking about what they would think of the gifts she had planned for them, taking extra care to remember their faces and names for later. It was time Athens was introduced to Haute Couture fashion.
As they were nearing the half-way point and Rarity had begun looking for a place to sit out of the sun and maybe have some refreshments, a chill trailed down the back of her neck. She’d never sensed the presence of another alicorn before, but Serene had, and the sensation was familiar just as it was disconcerting. She cast a look around the market, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Looking up revealed nopony flying along.
Again, she felt a pang for the missing pegasi, and resolved to ask about them shortly.
Casting a concerned look up at Rarity, Hypocemia asked, “What troubles you, rosy dawn touched Rarity?”
Hesitating, Rarity debated whether it was a good idea or not to say that there was another alicorn nearby. No, she corrected, as she focused on the chill. There were at least three alicorns in the immediate vicinity.
Yet, she couldn’t see them anywhere.
She was about to say that it was nothing, when a small burst of smoke blocked their path through the market. At once her senses became clearer, and instinctually Rarity knew one of the alicorns to be her equal, and the other two to be far, far lesser in power.
“Wa-HA-HA! Bow down and worship me, mortals! Fair coated and fair hearted Hera is here to judge your devotion!” A sharp, nasally voice cut from the cloud.
Snorting, Rarity swung a wing and scattered the obscuring white puff, revealing an alicorn filly of perhaps twelve or thirteen apparent years. Her true age was hard to know, alicorns ages getting stuck on the cusp of adulthood for decades to centuries.
With a fluffy, creamy peach coat, and raven dark mane that draped over pink eyes, Hera stood on her back hooves, her front legs thrust to one side with wings straight up. A wild smirk made her features seem harsh. Nose stuck in the air, she held the pose in spite of gravity, or common decency.
Serene’s memories of Hera were vastly different. In them Hera was a statuesque mare with cutting blue eyes and a mane of golden ringlets. She wore saddles of spun gold and hooped rings through her ears. A conical crown sat perched behind her horn, and about her neck hung many jewels. Known for her vindictive nature as much as her beauty, the Queen of the Gods was an alicorn held in equal measures fear, respect, and adoration.
This filly had none of those qualities.
In contrast to her diminutive size, this Hera was positively dripping with arrogance. It was about the only aspect that was at all similar to Serene’s memories.
On either side of Hera kneeled an alicorn mare. To her left was Maia, and to her right was Electra, both of whom Hera had in the past had cause to quarrel. Daughters of mighty Atlas, who held the heavens above Gaea on his own broad shoulders as punishment for attempting a rebellion against Zeus in ages past, they now served the Queen of the Gods as her hoofmaidens by Zeus’ decree.
Rarity looked the trio over, raised an eyebrow, and turned back to Hypocemia. “So, darling, as I was saying—”
Clearing her throat, Hera again let out her shrill laugh. “Wa-HA-HA! You dare ignore me, the queen of all the gods, from the greatest to the lowest? She who… Hey, come back here!”
Raising her own voice as she resumed trotting through the market, Rarity continued unabated, “I think a nice, plain picture hat would go lovely with those dresses you wear. I assume you have needles and—”
“Stop ignoring me!” Hera appeared in Rarity’s path with a flash of magic. Cheeks puffed out, the Queen of the Gods snorted and pawed at the ground as if to charge. She reminded Rarity a little bit of an angry hamster.
Simply stepping around Hera, Rarity continued, “I can make you a marvelous set of attire. It has been so long since I made anything for anypony. “
“I said, STOP!” Hera’s voice echoed near and far across Gaea. “Who do you think you are to fly in among our worshippers so flagrantly and attempt to turn them away from their true gods?”
Sighing, Rarity slowly turned a disgusted glare towards Hera. In a voice so cold, so poised, so piercing that it would make glaciers calve in fear, Rarity replied, “I have nothing to say to a little, spoiled brat. Especially one who claims to be a queen, but acts like the most ignorant, nasty twerp imaginable.”
Face growing red, Hera puffed herself up more, which only served to heighten her hamster-like appearance. Rarity had to fight down laughing.
This was the great and mighty Queen of the Gods? This was the pony who everyone else feared? It was too ludicrous for words.
“You dare to lecture—”
After her years in Amaymon, Rarity had enough anger bottled to fill an ocean, and this she turned towards Hera in a torrent. The dam was opened, and poured forth.
“Oh, no, darling,” Rarity flipped her mane, “You have yet to receive a lecture in your entire existence. I doubt you’d be able to recognise a proper one if it turned into a mountain and was dropped onto your head. No, you’re too busy lying about your ohso vaunted Olympus, tended to hoof and wing by your servants. Too busy sunning on a lounge than to lead the ponies who look up to you! Why, in less than a day, I’ve uncovered such monstrous behavior that I would never have believed possible in any so-called ‘civilized’ society!”
The tirad that followed became a legend.
It wasn’t just her time in Amaymon that powered her words. Rarity filled them with the disgust she’d felt for the various ‘elite’ of Canterlot and Equestria who’d ignored the ponies deemed beneath their station. Words she’d previously kept in check.
It was catharsis. A cleansing of her soul. And once she’d started, Rarity discovered that it was almost impossible to stop.
Every little detail she’d uncovered since arriving on Gaea was laid bare. For it being less than a day, the list was long indeed.
The warfare simply for the sake of battle, with the associated suffering and misery. The levels of barbarism necessary for such a thing to even be contemplated. How an entire city suffered, hope seeming a foreign concept to its inhabitants, barely scraping past each day to the next, constantly afraid of when the next attack would occur.
How ponies were kept as slaves. Rights and freedoms trampled in the dust. No chance to find the simple things that could bring them joy, or the special talents that filled ponies with purpose. Then, if it were at all possible, matters were made worse through mutilations. Eunuchs! Of all the things she’d heard that day, that made her stomach churn with disgust the most.
And all the while the ponies of Athens held any alicorn in such fear. Not respect or awe. Fear. Fear of the gods that never seemed to leave their mountain palace. Fear, when there should have been love, or at the very least respect garnered from actual leadership.
Righteous indignation poured from her as she lectured, each word an arrow fired. There was no relenting. No pause. Hera was utterly unprepared for the verbal onslaught and the sheer weight of Rarity when roused. Hera attempted to flee, but Rarity gave chase. By the end, Rarity’s chest heaved as she towered over Hera, the alicorn filly pressed into the corner of two homes adjacent to the market.
Hera’s ears were flattened to her head, and tail wrapped around herself to make herself seem smaller.
Comporting herself, Rarity turned away from Hera with a, ‘Hmph!’
She couldn’t believe she’d just beratted a filly to such an extent, and so publically, alicorn or not.
Keeping her own embarrassment hidden, Rarity went to a mortified Hypocemia, and said, “Let us return home, my dear. I want to make sure Trixie is alright. We’ve been gone a lot longer than I intended.”
Nodding quickly, Hypocemia stuttered, “Y-Yes, home. Yes.” The mare’s face was as pale, if not more so, than even Hera. A deep, all-encompassing terror filled her eyes like she was being dangled over the mouth of a ravenous dragon.
The deathly silence pervading the market was broken by the click of Rarity’s hooves, even the birds trembling in their nests. Rarity inwardly sighed at herself for giving in to her pent up anger. She’d been anything but a poised, respectably pony.
She’d gone perhaps a half-dozen lengths when Hera laughed, “Bwa-Ha-ha-ha! Very well, your challenge is accepted, out-sider!”
Rarity didn’t even look back.
“H-Hey! Come back here! Wait!” Hera’s golden sandaled hooves skidded across the dusty cobblestones as she darted in front of Rarity. Face puffed up with indignation, Hera jabbed a wing at Rarity. “You challenged me, and now you trot away?”
“I didn’t challenge you, I simply laid at all the things that have disgusted me since I arrived,” Rarity pointed out. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would much rather spend my time with a friend than arguing with you, darling. I have said all I wanted.”
Rarity brushed past Hera, gathered a still quaking Hypocemia, and made her way back towards her host’s ‘palace’. Trixie had to be waking up soon, if she wasn’t up already, and would be worried if Rarity was gone. As she went, Rarity unspooled one of the bolts of cloth just enough to begin to make a new hat and cape for Trixie. She conjured sheers of pure aether, and sewed without a needle. It was a simple exercise, and one that brought her a semblance of peace.
Peace that was continually intruded upon.
Hera didn’t let up, scampering along beside her while Maia and Electra trailed behind trying to convince their mistress to return to Olympus.
“I’m not going anywhere until I beat this insolent intruder!” Hera proclaimed, stamping her hooves in a little tantrum.
Rarity did the most prudent thing, and simply ignored Hera’s antics. Eventually the filly would get tired or bored and go back to her home on Olympus.
All the while a very frightened Hypocemia hid in Rarity’s shadow.
The looks of abject horror only intensified once they reached the palace. Queen Hecuba fainted and had to be carried to the guest room, while one of the servants fled the palace screaming as if chased by a pack of hellish hounds. Squaring his shoulders as he bowed deeply, Mystalicus took control of the servants, ordering Hypocemia to provide the best wine. A bit of relief showing in the corners of her eyes, she rushed off to do as her father bid.
Hera didn’t seem to even notice the mortals’ reactions, still focused intently on Rarity. She continued to follow Rarity right up to Trixie’s bed.
Trixia was, thankfully, still asleep. She twitched as she dreamt, slight whimpers sounding in the back of her throat at the nightmares plaguing her. Summoning a simple cloak stand, Rarity put the new hat and cloak in a place of prominence where Trixie would see them when she awoke.
“Who is this?” Hera asked as she jumped up onto a couch next to a window. “A champion!” She exclaimed after looking Trixie over, clapping her hooves with joy. “Excellent! You already had one for our challenge.”
Stifling a sigh, Rarity at last turned towards Hera. “I have told you that I have no intention of engaging in any challenges with you. And I would most certainly never involve Trixie in any case. If you want to follow me around, then at least make yourself useful.”
Hera, nodding along with Rarity’s words, quirked her head like a confused puppy. She rubbed her chin in deep thought, and then said, “I find it extremely difficult to understand you. I come to greet you to my world and invite you to my home, and you yell at me and blame me for all the problems of the mortals. Then you run away when I accept your challenge. What is it? Did you want to fight or not?”
“No, I wanted to avoid you,” Rarity said as she sat down next to Trixie. “If it will make you happy, it is my intention to leave as soon as I have found a way back to my own home on Ioka. Coming to Gaea was entirely unintentional.”
“Ioka?” Hera scratched her chin. “I am unfamiliar with this world. Maia, Electra, do either of you know of it?”
They did not.
“Well, obviously it is a backwards little world,” Hera concluded, “If I never heard of it before. But, I won’t let you leave until you answer for challenging me in front of everypony! A goddess has her pride, and you tried to wound mine. You didn’t, of course, because I am Hera and—wait, where are you going now!?”
Ignoring Hera again, Rarity went down to the dining hall to find Mystallicus and Hypocemia. As she was leaving the room, she met Hecuba, the Athenian queen recovered from her fainting.
“Lady Rarity,” Hecuba said in a breathy rush as she was fanned by a servant. “I had a most horrible vision, like that born on the wings of a black onerios. Lady Hera, who rules from golden Olympus, was in my home and shooting angry barbs at you. Oh, what dark clouds hang over this house.”
“Yes, yes, she is a horrible little pony,” Rarity tried to soothe the wobbling queen. “But I think she is actually rather harmless.”
“I’m right here, you know!” Hera’s nasally cry sounded behind Rarity.
A devious idea popped into Rarity’s head. A wonderfully, blissfully, devious idea. She had to clamp down a laugh. She was going to teach Hera a lesson in humility and helping ponies.
“Oh, I thought you would have gone back to Olympus to sulk by now,” Rarity sourly shot over her shoulder. “I’m surprised you can stand to be gone from your great palace for so long. ”
Vibrating with impotent rage, like a volcano on the cusp of exploding, Hera turned a deep red underneath her fur. She puffed out her cheeks, let out a shrill shriek, and turned to her hoofmaidens.
“Maia, Electra, go back to Olympus and get my things! I’m not going back to Olympus until this interloper is taught a lesson!” Hera marched past Rarity and went down to the main hall.
Rarity didn’t hide her grin as the pair of alicorn hoofmaidens looked from their mistress to her in dejected confusion. They didn’t argue, and blinked out of existence as they went to do as commanded.
“What is going on?” Asked a sleepy Trixie from the doorway to the bedroom. She wore her new hat slightly ascance, cloak tossed casually over her shoulders. Her gaze drifted from Rarity over the other ponies, and then down to Hera already in the courtyard with nose thrust in the air.
“Oh, just teaching a filly to be nice to ponies,” Rarity off-handedly remarked. “And, hopefully, some ponies a lesson or two as well.”
She guided Trixie down the main hall, mind turning on how to teach everypony to be better. It wasn’t going to be an easy lesson, and she doubted that she would be able to change the Athenians overnight. But, given time, Rarity was certain that they would realise the gross injustices rife within their society.
Until then, Rarity resolved that Ioka would have to wait. She had a mission now. She’d fix Athens, make it a place of generosity and beauty, teach Hera to respect ponies, and find a way home.