Rye and Cranberry forced their way through the crowds. Ponies rushed around them, pushing across their path to head for the gate, where the griffon forces were being divided into smaller groups and marched away. Others were headed in the same direction as they, trying to catch a glimpse of the mighty, fallen dragon. Rye wondered absently what they were going to do with the body.
In the distance, the gates to the city were opening. The ponies of Canterlot were flooding out onto the field, mingling with the soldiers, searching for family and friends among the ranks. Happy cries rose above the clanging of armor.
At last, they broke through. The ponies that had come to gawk at the dragon had left a wide berth around the creature’s massive corpse. The two of them stepped out into the clearing, and started off for the dragon’s head.
They found Inger leaning against it, the hammer hanging from his side, covered in green ichor, with a tired smile on his face. As they approached, his head lifted, and his smile broadened.
“Inger!” said Cranberry, breaking into a run. “Inger, you did it!”
Before he could say anything, she jumped on him and kissed him. A second later, her nose wrinkled, and she pulled away and spat on the ground. “Blech! Dragon vomit.”
Inger gave her a half-cocked grin. “Well, what can I say? I’m an acquired taste.”
She beamed at him. “That you are.” They hugged.
Rye leaned against the dragon beside them, smirking. “You know, Inger, most ponies don’t have to kill a dragon to get their surname.”
Inger blinked in surprise. “Surname?”
“That’s right, Dragonslayer. You’re not Inger of Canterlot anymore.” Rye bowed his head. “All part of the hero package, I’m afraid.”
Inger Dragonslayer looked slightly blitzed. “A surname… well.” His mouth curled in a smile of happy surprise. “That’ll take some getting used to.”
“You don’t get to pass it on to your wife and children, though. Sorry.”
Inger tilted his head in confusion. “But I don’t have a family.”
Rye smiled knowingly. “Not yet.”
“CRANBERRY SUGAR!”
All three of them turned their heads to see a rose-colored mare marching towards them from the mob of onlookers, followed by a quiet-looking beige unicorn.
Cranberry stepped forward hesitantly. “Oh, dear…”
“Cranberry, you absolute brat!” Inkpot looked livid. “Camping, you told me! Camping! For four months!”
She reached them at last, and stood there fuming. Cranberry’s mouth opened slightly. “Uh…”
“I should tan your hide and use it for parchment! I’ve been worried sick for months! No news, no letters, not even a postcard, you incredible—” Inkpot wrapped her sister in a fierce hug. She sniffled. “I’m glad to see you, Cranberry.”
“Hi to you too, sis.” Cranberry hugged her back, her eyes watering.
“Where have you been?”
Cranberry looked at Rye over her sister’s shoulder, and a laugh escaped her. “It’s… kind of a long story.”
Rye looked right to find that the unicorn had finally reached them. He felt warm all over. His face broke into a beaming smile. “Hi, dad.”
Apricot looked at him with pride. “You came back.”
He nodded. “I had a job to do. But now it’s done.” He looked around at the battlefield. “I’m sorry we came so late.”
“You came in time,” said Apricot quietly. He smiled. “That’s what counts.”
Rye couldn’t hold back any longer. He raced forward and wrapped his forelegs around his father’s neck. They embraced, and Rye felt the first spark of genuine happiness he’d had since his admittance into the officers’ training program, long ago in another lifetime.
At last, he pulled away, wiping his eyes. “I’ve missed you.” He grinned. “Especially your cooking. I did my best, but… they don’t have a lot of quality ingredients, where we’ve been.”
Apricot returned the grin. “I’ll make a cook of you yet.”
“King Eberhardt wants a sample of your roasted alfalfa with alfredo. He was rather taken with my lesser version of it.”
His father’s eye twitched. “You didn’t drown it in butter again, did y—King, did you say?”
Rye raised his eyebrows, enjoying the look on his father’s face. “I made a few new friends. I’ll have to introduce you.”
Beside them, Inger was watching Inkpot and Cranberry with a slightly melancholic look on his face. Rye felt a pang of sympathy. Inger had nopony waiting for him to return home.
Cranberry pulled away from her sister with a start. “Oh!” She turned to Inger beaming. “Inkpot, there’s somepony I want you to meet. This is Inger Dragonslayer, one of Her Majesty’s Firewings. And… more.”
Inger bowed his head. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Miss Sugar.”
Inkpot blushed, and put a flustered hoof to her mouth. “Oh, well, I’m nopony, really.” She walked up to Inger, looking up at his face with awe. “You actually killed the dragon?”
“With a little help,” said Inger, hefting the hammer with a hoof.
“Wow,” said Inkpot, looking him up and down. “That’s incredible…”
Cranberry butted her out of the way, and sidled up next to Inger. “Back off, sis.” She nuzzled him. “He’s mine.”
Rye snorted as Inger blushed. Apricot raised an eyebrow and extended a hoof. “Inger Dragonslayer, is it? Apricot Strudel. A pleasure to meet you.”
Inger shook it with a nod. “Likewise. You must be Windstreak’s husband.”
Apricot paled. “Yes.”
“I owe her a lot. And I owe your son a lot, too.” Inger glanced at Rye. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
Looking slightly embarrassed, Apricot bowed his head in thanks. “What have you all been up to?”
Rye shook his head, unsure where to start. “We… I… I’ll tell you what. We’ll tell you all about it over dinner tonight, okay?”
Apricot rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Of course you will.”
“Oh, Inger,” said Cranberry, “You are in for a treat.”
Rye looked back to his father. He bit his lip. “So… how bad is it in the city?”
Apricot shook his head. “Lots of burned-out buildings. Too many dead. But…” He looked down at Rye and placed a hoof on his shoulder. “Not as many as there would have been if you hadn’t saved us.”
Rye swallowed. He opened his mouth, but forgot what he was about to say, for at that moment the sky above them began blossoming into bright blue. They all looked up, openmouthed.
Beside him, Cranberry sighed quietly. “It’s over, then. The world’s going back to normal.”
Rye stared at the city, watching the smoke rise from the castle in the distance. His face creased with sadness. “Will it? Can it?”
She draped a hoof over his shoulder and pulled him to her side. “Eventually. Cheer up, Rye! We did it. We saved Equestria. She’s hurt, yes, but she’ll heal in time.” Cranberry smiled sunnily. “The forest, the caves, the mountain—it was all worth it.”
He frowned. “I just…” He paused. His heart leaped in his chest. His eyes widened. “Cranberry… do you see that?”
The group of ponies all turned to look in the direction of the castle. A shining star was soaring over the city, sparkling light throughout the air.
They watched, awestruck, as the star passed over the wall. It flew over the field, scattering light over the crowds of ponies. The light descended, growing brighter as it approached, until at last it landed softly before them. Celestia, her wings held aloft, appeared from within the glow.
All of the ponies bowed. Inger was the first to look up. “Milady.”
“Greetings, Inger.” Celestia looked calm and quiescent. She smiled at the Firewing. “You’ve done well. Better than I dared hope.”
“Not alone.” Inger looked at Cranberry and Rye.
Celestia gazed at them both, and then bowed her head. “Equestria and her Princess are in your debt, little ones.”
Cranberry, looking overwhelmed, just whispered, “Thank you.”
Rye bowed his head again. “We brought the Nordponies as fast as we could, Your Majesty.”
She beamed at him. “You’ve done what I asked and more, Rye. I knew you could rise to the challenge.”
He felt a little pride stir in his chest, and smiled. “Thank you, Princess.”
“And now, it’s time to repair what I’ve broken.” Celestia lowered her wings, and Rye’s world seemed to slow to a crawl. His mother, lying on Celestia’s back, lifted her head slowly, and caught his eye.
“Rye…?” Windstreak’s eyes opened wide. She slid sideways, falling from the Princess’s back. Golden light surrounded her, and she drifted gently to the ground. “Rye!”
He ran toward her. They met halfway in a tangle of feathers and hooves, grabbing each other so tight they might never let go. He buried his muzzle in her neck, shaking. “Mom! You’re—you’re alive!”
She was weeping, falling to her haunches, and holding him painfully close. “I should never have left you, Rye. I’m sorry, so sorry—this is all my fault—”
“No, mom.” He shook his head in denial, still clenching her against himself. “This was my choice. And it was the right one. I needed to do this. I'm just—I never thought I'd see you again.”
Windstreak placed a hoof behind his head and pulled him closer, kissing his forehead. “I’ve missed you so much, Rye. Every minute of every day.”
He choked back tears. “I was afraid you’d… that you were…”
He leaned back, and his face fell as he took in her wounds. He glanced at her limp wings, and the dark burn on her face. Slowly, he ran a hoof along her scarred cheek, his face filled with fear. “You’re hurt.”
She smiled even as she cried. “Broken bones heal. And the face is… well, your father didn’t marry me for my looks.”
“No, I didn’t,” said Apricot from behind them, his voice filled with emotion. Windstreak looked up to his eyes, and held out one of her legs wordlessly. He joined them, and the Strudel family was reunited at last. They sat together, saying nothing, just holding each other.
Cranberry, Inkpot, and Inger stood back respectfully. The Princess looked at the three of them with a curious eyebrow raised. “So, Inger, who is your new companion?”
Inger grinned like an idiot. “Milady, allow me to introduce… my lady.”
Cranberry’s cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. “Cranberry Sugar, at your service, Your Majesty.”
Celestia smiled. “Hello, Cranberry. I’m pleased to meet you.”
Rye held in a laugh as he heard Cranberry splutter with awkward thanks. He leaned against his mother, and she against him. He looked around at his friends and family, and smiled. Everything was going to be all right.