The silent battlefield smelled of warm ash, and the drifting smoke was so thick that Odin had to clear it away with his wings as he moved through. The brawny stallion's single remaining eye watered beneath his hood as he led a company of his fellow alicorns behind him, marching across the blackened earth like a funeral procession. Draped in burned robes and scorched armour, a severed head hanging by its mane from his side, he passed through an endless expanse of the dead and dying.
Some of the dead were alicorns of his own army, every one as grey as the ash around them, just like Odin himself. Others were shadowy creatures of darkness, or deformed monstrosities. Some were translucent equines, their icy corpses slowly melting away, while still others were bizarre chimeras, born of unnatural combinations of various animals. Further afield were corpses of even stranger beings – trees with legs and faces, bipedal monsters with stone skin, and cyclopic squid-creatures bleeding streaks of glowing green.
So many armies had clashed on this site. Yet in the end it was the alicorns that stood victorious.
Odin's eye lingered on a single chimera lying in the path ahead. It was a hybrid of a pony and a dragon, sporting the former's chest and face, as well as stature, but the latter's legs, tail, and hindquarters. The chimera, already struggling to get up on his feet, snarled when he saw them approaching. His claws reached out for a nearby sword, buried in the ash, but Odin's horn lit up first, bubbling with black and green alicorn magic.
Quick as a flash, he drew his enchanted spear, Gungnir, and struck the chimera's head with the blunt end. The chimera slumped to the ground, and Odin walked on past, barely breaking stride.
"Do the carrion not know that the battle is done?" he muttered.
The line of alicorns marched onward into the endless wasteland. All the way, Odin's focus remained on a distant landmark – a crystal tree which loomed over the battlefield, its branches forming the image of a star. Although it too was covered in a layer of ash and soot, it still stood resplendent against the otherwise desolate landscape, light shining off its cool blue surface.
Eventually, Odin and his followers came to rest in its shadow. Silence fell as they bowed, together.
"Mighty Yggdrasil..." he said, removing his hood as ash fell from his mane. "Mother... thy guidance won us this day. The invaders are destroyed. Thy will is done."
From behind Odin's procession, four alicorns emerged, carrying two corpses. With a nod, Odin bid them to lay their charges before Yggdrasil, and they rested the bodies upon her roots. One was a female chimera, bizarre even by the standards of the others, with a feline body, serpentine neck, and many mismatched arms and wings. The other was simply a black alicorn stallion, unique in colouration among their kind, his bloodied armour a mirror to Odin's own.
"Behold," said Odin, "Bestla, the Spirit of Chaos, and Borr, the Lord of Order. We present these conquests to thee. Have we served thee well, Mother?"
A quiet chiming emanated from the tree. Yggdrasil spoke without words, but in their hearts the alicorns felt her meaning clearly.
I am not Order. I am not a master to be served. T'was I that gave ye the means, but your liberty was earned by your own choices. My will is only that ye have the freedom to make those choices, and the wisdom to make them well. Your creator is dead, and you are his slaves no longer. His armies, and the hordes of Discord, will no longer menace this realm. Now, just as I gave you the gift of heart, so too do I give you Asgard. I will always be here to guide you should you have need of it, but henceforth, the alicorns must forge their own destiny.
Odin stood tall, but his followers remained prostrate. Licking his dried lips, he considered his next words, eyes turned to the ground.
"These ponies... they choose to follow me. They say that... since I led them into battle, I should be king. I should wear the crown. Is it right of us to have another king? Would I... become just like our father? Another tyrant of order?"
Yggdrasil glowed with a gentle light, prompting Odin to look back up.
Order would say that there must always be a king, 'tis true. But 'tis Discord who would tell thee to never have one, who would have you live in anarchy. I am neither. I am Harmony, and I stand for balance. Learn from thy father, Borr, and lead thy people as thou believest thou must. Learn from Bestla, and remember that individuals must be free to live as they choose. Above all, learn from me, and treat thy subjects with kindness. Compassion shall prevent thee from being another tyrant. Love is what shall redeem us.
Odin took a deep breath.
"But am I ready?" he asked. "I know not what awaits us. Do I have the wisdom to guide these ponies? Will my legacy be greatness? Or failure?"
There is wisdom in knowing thy limitations. There have been many kings who could have been great, were it not for their own arrogance, but that is not a flaw that thou possesseth. Thou hast the wisdom to question thyself, and seek good counsel before acting, and that is already more than most. Thy true test is whether thou wilt let thy doubts consumeth thee, or temper thee into something stronger.
"Thou speakest truly, mother." Odin nodded. "I shall endeavour to always seek wisdom and good counsel."
Please present thy companion to me.
Odin hesitated, before looking down to the severed head hanging from his side. As gently as he could, he unhooked its mane from his armour, and floated it before Yggdrasil upon a cloud of roiling darkness.
The stallion's head closed its milky white eyes and nodded, as if in approximation of a bow.
Mimir, thou lost much this day. Thy life, thy body, the eternal rest that should have been thine, had the necromancer not stolen it from thee. Yet here thou remainest, alive and free, if not whole. If thou desirest, I can end thy suffering... But, if thou yet hast the will to linger, I would grant thee a boon – the knowledge to be Odin's guiding hoof. Thou wouldst drink deep of my well, and share all that thou tasteth, for the good of Asgard, and all ponykind. Tell me, is this thy wish?
"Mother..." Mimir's voice echoed hauntingly, like many voices speaking in unison. "Thou dost me a great honour. If 'tis thy desire, I shall serve."
Then our compact is made.
A beam of blinding white light shot from the star in the centre of the tree, straight into Mimir's horn. The black and green cloud of Odin's magic bled away, and a white light now suspended the head in the air. When Yggdrasil's light finally dimmed, Mimir's head still floated, suspended in a wispy white glow coming from his own horn, and shining behind his eyes.
I have given to Mimir the gift of prophecy, said Yggdrasil. He shall be the eye thou lost, looking towards the future, to quell thy doubts and prepare thee for whatever may come. If 'tis good counsel thou seekest, thou wilt find none better.
Odin knelt again.
"Thou dost a great kindness give us, mighty Yggdrasil. On behalf of all alicorns... nay, all ponies, I give thee our thanks, and pledge to be the king that my ponies deserve. I vow to uphold thine example, not out of the blind obedience of Order, but because I believe in the path thou hast shown us. I will lead Asgard to the greatness that it deserves. And on my honour, blood will never spill upon thy roots again."
"Aye," Mimir agreed. "I too pledge to serve well and long, for the good of our people."
Prosperity upon thee and thy kingdom, Odin of Asgard. The road to victory was not bloodless, but my faith in thee was well-placed. Go now, and take thy throne, my lord.
Odin rose to his hooves and turned around, his soldiers also rising as he faced them. Mimir's disembodied head floated by his side, white light pouring from his eyes, and horn thrumming with power. Odin looked over his weary followers, with their scorched clothes and dented armour. Ash and blood covered them, and few lacked for scars or deformities.
Yet, every single one of them smiled at him in that moment.
Together, in perfect harmony, they gripped their spears by hoof and horn, and rhythmically drummed them against the earth. They started slowly, and built into a crescendo. Odin grinned, stepping forward, and when the drumming of their spears was at its most rapid, he drew Gungnir and raised it high. His weapon ignited with a brilliant flame, and Odin's warriors all cheered.
"Hail, Odin, King of Asgard!" declared one of the warrior mares in front.
"HAIL, ODIN, KING OF ASGARD!" the others chorused.
And upon that ashen field, the true kingdom of the alicorns was born.