Falling was not the leading cause of death in Zephyr Heights.
Of course, it wasn't for lack of trying. Bold foals just on the cusp of adulthood would venture to the outcroppings just beyond the city limits, trying to catch updrafts on newly formed feathers that could not feel its shape. Pegasi of all ages sometimes wandered too close to that edge between land and sky, spreading wings to feel the warmth of the sun on their feathers; to approximate that which they no longer had. Because of this, soldiers diligently patrolled the mountains at regular intervals. The barrier between hooves on solid ground and certain death below.
One was more likely to be struck by lightning than die by falling.
So why was it that a soldier had told Fairweather Haven that was how her Thunder had died?
The castle was far too large now. Far too empty. Even late as it was, the usual gentle chatter of staff and staccato taps of hooves were replaced by an oppressive silence. As she made her way from the ornate main halls to the personal family chambers, she caught glances of pity before gazes were averted, as it had been for the past week. Sometimes an unsteady, quiet voice would rise to reflect that first soldier's words: "I'm so sorry."
The weight of it all settled on Haven's withers, and it was an effort to keep her head up to wear that queenly mask in public. Even her mourning had to be a carefully constructed performance, so long as she was in the eye of the public: she had to bleed for them, just enough to be recognized as in mourning, but never too much. No pony wanted to see raw grief.
As she stepped onto the carpeting of the private chambers, she allowed it all to bear down on her. Eyes burned and breath labored in a too tight throat to reach lungs that would never fill. Her hooves dragged ever so slightly across the ground, leaving slight trails in the carpet that would be gone by morning.
Her steps carried her away from her own room, a place so thick with memories that she would suffocate the moment she dared venture inside. An ear flicked as the ghost of his laughter drifted past her, and she bit down a sob that threatened to tear from her throat. Instead, she made her way to Pipp's room, swallowing down her grief and her mourning because her daughters needed their mother more than ever.
The simple door to the toddler's room made no noise when Haven slowly opened it. She slipped inside, closing it behind her so that the light from the hall wouldn't spill inside and risk awakening the younger princess. It was so much brighter than the gentle light of her nightlight, that bathed the room in a soft blue light.
Haven navigated the various stuffed animals and tech toys strewn about to the crib. She hoisted herself up to look down at a sleeping Pipp, nestled in her blankets and with one leg wrapped around her favorite stuffed animal, a royal blue dragon with delicate wings. Her other hoof hovered by her mouth, where Haven knew she'd been suckling on it. A blanket shifted when a small, barely feathered wing fluttered beneath it in her sleep.
Despite everything, warmth blossomed against that cold, heavy weight in Haven's chest. She reached down, running a hoof over Pipp's mane and causing one of her ears to flick, though she did not stir. A smile pulled at Haven's muzzle, and she readjusted her covers. Pipp rolled over, curling tighter around herself and burying deeper in her makeshift nest.
"Sleep well, darling," Haven whispered, lowering herself to all fours.
She settled on the floor to watch Pipp for a few minutes more. As she slept, her tiny chest rising and falling with new life, reality wormed its way back into Haven's heart with its sharp, unyielding thorns. Pipp was so young. She would grow older and have only ghosts of her father to remember him by.
She'd just come to rest her head on forelegs, when she heard the door to the room open. The yellow light from the hall spilled into the room, and she sent a desperate glance towards Pipp to make sure it hadn't awakened her. She slept on, and a sigh of relief escaped Haven's lips.
"Mommy?" Zephyrina's voice came from behind her.
Haven rocked too her hooves with some effort, exhaustion beginning to mingle with sorrow to gum up joints. She turned to face her elder daughter.
The young Zephyrina, just five years old, stood just outside the room, hair and tail messy from tumultuous sleep and her wings fluttering anxiously at her sides. On her back was perched a stuffed bear, lying precariously against her neck. It was dressed like a math professor, though his glasses had long since fallen off and been lost. Her eyes were rimmed with red. She sniffed, her whole body hitching with it.
"What's wrong Zephyrina?"
She left the room with a final goodnight to Pipp, and once again closed the door. Zephyrina shuffled her hooves, looking anywhere but her mother. Haven rested a wing along her back, careful not to dislodge her bear. Beneath her feathers she could feel her small body trembling. A tail flicked against her belly.
"I had a bad dream," she said with another sniff, quieter this time. She pressed close to Haven's barrel, adding, "I miss daddy."
"I know, dearest." She pulled her close, practically trapping her beneath her wing, before letting go. "I miss him too."
It was so unfair, she thought, a flash of rage running red hot through her. Unfair to make children so young confront a thing so ugly as death. And now she had to raise them on her own. Her tail lashed, just once, before she managed to force it still.
"'m I in trouble?" Zephyrina asked, always observant despite Haven's best efforts, in a meek little voice. A thing so fragile in the evening air.
"No," Haven was quick to reassure. She leaned down to nuzzle against Zephyrina, coming to find wet fur where she had been crying and her heart broke just a bit more. "No, you're not in trouble for being up past your bedtime."
Zephyrina looked as if she didn't believe her for a long moment, before giving a nod. "Okay," she said.
"Come on," Haven said, "let's get you back to bed. I'll even read you a story, if you'd like."
Zephyrina's face lit up at that prospect. The two set off towards her room just down the hall, where Haven could see the soft lavender glow of Zephyrina's bedside star lamp spilling out through the open door. Though Zephyrina was not smiling there was a more lively bounce in her step. Her small wings spread out slightly, to keep her rider from sliding off her back.
Unlike Pipp's room, Zephyrina's was meticulously clean; the filly took her duty of "clean up" very seriously. All the toys were in their place, either on her bed or tucked away in a toy chest, ornately carved with the figures of pegasi in flight. While Zephyrina crawled into bed, Haven made her way to the bookshelf tucked into the room's corner. The selection there was small, space mostly taken up by trinkets too delicate to place in the toy chest. A hoof hovered over a plain music box that held a tiny figurine of a rearing pegasus, its stain glass wings spread in triumph. It was a gift from her paternal grandmother, for her first birthday.
She passed over the chapter books that she and Thunder would read to Zephyrina little by little, night by night. Beside them were child friendly introductions to math and science, and Haven lingered on them. Her hoof trailed along spines already beginning to show signs of how well loved they were. A smile pulled at Haven's lips, even as her chest ached with a fresh wave of grief. The magic of flight may be lost to the pegasus, but Thunder had instead given their daughter the magic of numbers.
How many times had she gone to retrieve her daughter, only to find her at Thunder's desk? Pestering him with questions while he tried to grade papers for the classes he taught at the city's most prestigious university. And he'd be indulging her with a smile, every time. A foal's sense of wonder was a marvelous thing, he'd told her once, it needs to be nurtured.
She wasn't sure she was up to the task. Not alone.
"Can you read me the one about the astronomer?" Zephyrina chirped from her bed, drawing Haven from her thoughts.
"The one where she falls in love with the moon?" Haven said, already pawing through the books to find it.
"And she asks the stars for help every night, but she has to learn their names first," Zephrina recited. It was, after all, her favorite story.
Haven chuckled softly as she retrieved the small, well worn picture book. Its cover was adorned by a watercolor rendering of the moon with a mare in profile depicted in its craters, overlooking an old fashioned observatory tower. On the highest balcony, looking back at the moon, stood a small lavender pegasus. The Stars will Guide Her was scrawled across the bottom.
Zephyrina buried deeper under her blankets when Haven took position beside her bed. She hugged her bear closer to her, eyes wide and locked on Haven. She opened the book, and began to read:
"Once upon a time, there was a lonely scholar...."