Chapter 27
The Onyx Keep was a very unique stronghold.
In many ways it reminded Alan of a dwarven fortress.
Carved into a mountain of black and white rock, it had been designed to be entered only from the front gate. All across the surface of the mountain, deep slits had been bored into the surface, allowing Manticores and smaller machines of similar nature to fire freely, while remaining safe. Every hole would come up to a pony’s knee, and even Alan’s pegasi would have trouble getting inside from one of those.
At the very center of the mountain, a stark contrast against the cold grey sky, stood a tall tower. It had a gothic shape to it, with an incredibly steep roof, shingled in black.
Alan’s eyes came back down to the gate, and he took another once-over with his gaze. The gatehouse, made from the surrounding stone, was carved to make a perfectly vertical surface next to the slopes of the mountain. In the smooth wall was set a massive, oak double door, banded with wrought iron studs and blackened steel. The doors sat inside a gothic-esque arch, the name of which escaped Alan at the moment, and looked extremely durable.
Above the arch and the door stood twenty griffons, their faces just visible from the bunker-like hole that opened between the gate and the rough stone of the mountain. From this opening, on each side of the gate, hung a crimson banner with a golden crown situated in the center, the royal flag.
The Pendragon looked back up at the faces of the griffons, and could see the nervousness they felt as their ragged breaths left wispy vapors of steam floating in the air.
“General Pie!” Alan yelled, and the pink pony that was hanging around the base of the mountain turned to face him. “Report!”
Pinkie saluted before jumping over. Saluting again, she then began, “The mountain is made of 46% Andesite, and 36% Quartz diorite. The remaining 18% is a mixture of Basalt, Latite, and the incredibly rare Carbonite.”
“How would our cannons do?”
“It would take a while, but we could do it.”
Alan nodded. “Well, I’d rather not waste the time. Ready the Poison Joke bomb.”
“You got it!” Pinkie said, before she barked a few orders into her communicator.
“Poison?” Talius asked, suddenly nervous.
“Perfectly harmless,” Alan said. “It would just make things difficult for the defenders if negotiations go south. I’m hoping I won’t need it.”
Talius shifted nervously.
“Maybe next time, you shouldn’t mention it by name,” Twilight said, shivering as she stood by his side.
“Wise words from a wise mare,” Alan answered before turning to the dragon on the other side of her. “Got that letter ready?”
“Right here,” Spike said, holding a scroll between his fingers and thumb.
“On my signal, no sooner.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember, sheesh.”
Alan looked up, and saw his banner fluttering in the wind. The ebony flag was being held aloft by Kiwi Tart, who, this time, was keeping a very close eye on the unicorn, and was ready to duck at any moment.
He had apologized to her, but having a sword swing over your head isn't something one readily forgets.
“Dashie, is the package ready?” Alan asked the pegasus.
“Yeah, Thunderlane’s got the little monsters,” she answered from the other side of Talius.
“Great, and remember, don’t give the signal unless they attack us.”
“Right.”
Alan sighed before going through a mental checklist. Poison Joke and Parasprites? Check. The Princesses on call? Check. Army looking awesome? Check. The Generals and Captains standing next to him? Check. Negotiations began?
He sighed again before stepping forward.
As he walked toward the gate, Silver, Shining, Spike, Big Mac, Kiwi Tart, and the Mane Six followed. Halving the distance between the army and the gate, Alan then spoke in his loudest possible voice.
“King Bloodfeather of the Empire, Conqueror of the Eagle Beak Isles, and Ruler of the Northern Stones, I, Pendragon Alan Goldenhoof, Hero of Equestria, Wielder of Judgement, Arthur’s heir, and Defeater of Discord ask for your presence.”
One of the griffons at the gate disappeared.
They waited in relative silence, one or two of the ponies behind him whispered a complaint about the cold, but other than that, it was quiet.
And then, after what seemed like a long time, the gates opened. Swinging outward, the oaken doors creaked and groaned before revealing five figures.
The first Alan recognized as Prince Ironblood. The second was a griffon who walked with pride and purpose. The tips of his feathers were blood red, as well as his pinions feathers in his wings. Around his talons he wore golden bands, and on his head he wore a rather ornate crown. Around his shoulders hung a scarf of red silk, trimmed with mink fur, and around his neck hung a necklace with a massive red jewel at its center.
Alan guessed, between the crown and the red feathers, that this was probably King Bloodfeather.
However, Alan did not need to guess the third figure.
His talons were in chains and his wings were bound by stocks. Every step he took seemed labored and difficult, and at every opportunity, he shot an evil glare, ping ponging between the King, the Prince, and Alan himself. Next to him stood two guards, both armed with spears and were sending their captive nasty looks.
So the King wasn’t happy with the General either, huh?
The king approached, before bowing to the unicorn. “Greetings, Pendragon Goldenhoof, Leader of the Equestrian Army, Worthy Foe, and Merciful Master. You have called, and I have answered.”
“King Bloodfeather,” Alan began, “we have come to negotiate the total and complete surrender of the Empire of Gryphus to the Kingdom of Equestria.”
Bloodfeather nodded. “I understand.”
Alan nodded at Spike, who, with a quick jet of flame set the scroll away.
“If you will wait but a moment,” Alan said, as the griffons all looked over at the dragon, just as the flame died.
There was silence for a moment.
“Um...” Prince Ironblood began, “what are we waiting for?”
And then, as if to answer his question, there was a massive explosion of light between the two parties. A peal of thunder echoed against the mountainside, and the griffons at the gate ducked behind their defenses, hoping beyond hope to save themselves from whatever magic had torn through.
As the light faded, and the griffons gathered their courage, they looked and saw a sight that only worsened their fear.
Two massive ponies stood before the gate. Both alicorns, wearing their red and silver armor, wore slight scowls on their faces, showing their displeasure.
The larger spoke first. “I am Princess Celestia the Firstborn, Queen of the Day, the Solar Sentinel, High Ruler of Equestria.” Her voice echoed off the mountain and rolled into the plain, and the sun suddenly began to shine through the clouds on the overcast day, throwing a warm golden light against the cold black stone.
Then the second spoke. “I am Princess Luna the Youngest, Lady of the Night, the Silent Dreamwarden, High Queen of the Sky.” Her voice matched her sister’s perfectly in volume and power, and as she spoke, the griffons could swear that the sky above them shook.
Then they spoke in perfect unison. “You have brought war to our country, and have faced but a mere fraction of our wrath. And lest you wish to feel the rest of it, we ask that you would speak now.”
Admittedly, King Bloodfeather recovered fairly quickly. Bowing, even as his son and brother cowered, he then spoke.
“Mighty Ones, I fear that we three have been made fools by my kin.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Explain, your Majesty.”
“Of course, Mighty Ones,” Bloodfeather answered. “But let us not discuss such things in the cold of this dying winter. I would invite you and your army inside, where at the least they can enjoy warmth.”
Celestia looked over at Luna, and Luna nodded.
“Very well, your Majesty,” Celestia said before walking inside.
Luna followed her, and then the Pendragon and his Generals followed by the king, Ironclaw, and the Prince.
As they moved, Luna suddenly shot Alan a curious glance.
Alan didn’t notice.
They stepped inside, and the first thing that caught their eye were the smoothed pillars of quartz that glistened in the torchlight that hung above them. Alan and the gang were rather impressed with the sight, and all but gaped at them as they walked by.
Celestia and Luna did nothing, they simply walked forward, scowls on their faces, almost as if they owned the place.
The King suddenly snapped his fingers and a griffon soared down to his side. “Prepare the entire kitchen staff, get these ponies anything they require,” he ordered. “Understood?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
The ponies slowly made their way inside the massive courtyard, and as they filed in, more griffons began to glide down, and took orders and bags, anything to help service the soldiers that were technically invading.
The king led the others away, up to his throne room at the tallest chamber of the tower.
As they moved, they passed a few large chambers, one of which that was particularly interesting to both Alan and Twilight. Inside the round, domed room, stood a tree that was under guard. It was shaped like an olive tree, however, rather than the gnarled brown bark of that species, the trunk was white and smooth, like a birch.
Before Twilight could wander in for further study, Alan pulled her along. They did have a job to do. “Later,” he whispered.
They began to climb higher and higher into the fortress, passing labyrinth-like passageways and rooms supported by heavy columns of quartz and jet.
Finally, they arrived at the Kings throne room, and with a clap of his talons, a large table was brought out, along with several plush cushions.
“Please, sit,” Bloodfeather offered.
They sat, Celestia and Luna taking a seat on each side of the King’s throne, while Ironblood stood next to his father, and Talius took his place next to Julius.
Alan took a moment to examine the room. It sat in an ellipses, with a large double door at one end, and the king’s throne at the other. The floor was covered by a rich, red satin carpet, and the empty sconces filled the spaces between the windows.
The windows themselves were incredibly tall, almost as tall as the ones back at Canterlot, however, these, instead of the colorful stained glass images, were plain, with only a metal shutter at the top as the distinguishing feature. Alan could imagine the shutters would fall, replacing the windows with impenetrable metal walls. Very useful to defend against attackers should a civil war break.
The throne was actually rather spectacular in and of itself. It seemed to be carved from pure obsidian, the glass-like stone cut so thin that Alan could almost see through it. Circling the stone was a thin, gold line, as though the molten metal had been poured into a thin channel cut in the stone. At the top of the throne was a large ruby, and the armrests were carved to form lion heads.
The King began, sitting on his throne’s red silk cushion. “Let me begin by telling you of the state of my kingdom.” As he spoke his servants began to bring out a variety of fruits and vegetables for the ponies. Ironclaw was forced into one corner, and his guards watched him like hawks.
“Twenty-seven years ago, an attempt was made on my life. It was sloppy, and obviously an amateurish attack. I was able to escape with my life; however, I was also made aware of my enemies. Luckily for myself, I was able to fake a head injury that left me a fool, and I was able to observe my surroundings better.” A servant came to him, and offered him a drink, he waved the griffon off before continuing.
“I was forced to approve idiotic act after idiotic act; however, my ruse had fooled my enemies, and no further attempts were made on my life, as they were content to use me as a puppet. Before long, my court was filled with corrupt, powerful bureaucrats, each pushing to worm their way into my throne. Almost all of my advisors were snakes, and I could not even trust my own family.
“I watched, pretending to be a simpleton, and before long, I found the one who had tried to kill me.” His eyes went straight to the corner of the room, where Ironclaw sat with a hateful scowl on his face. “My own brother.”
The king sighed. “I could do nothing; at the time, I could not yet rise to defend my country until the proper moment. Then one night, he came and told me that one of my nobles had been killed, Lord Byron Goldbelly.” The King sneered, his voice slowly beginning to rise. “A particularly nasty blob of slime whose avarice could only be matched by the size of his gut. The fool had even tried to pass a tax on taxation!”
The king paused, took a deep breath, and then continued. “While I could not care less for the loss of that particular ‘noble,’ I could not deny my general from his crusade of finding justice against the human that lived in your realm. Personally, if I had the choice, I would have presented him with a medal, but Markus called for his death.” Bloodfeather paused for a moment. “Is he still alive?” he asked.
“No,” Alan replied quickly. “He died in the siege of Canterlot that your son led.”
Bloodfeather grimaced. “I am sorry,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity. “I wish it had not come to this.”
There was silence in the throne room for a moment.
Prince Ironblood spoke first. “Father, the war.”
Bloodfeather nodded. “Yes. The war. When my brother returned from your shores he spoke of great hostility, something which I know you would not do, Mighty Ones, and he said we should go to war.”
He paused again, a shameful look coming on his face. “I...I admittedly did not stop him. I was hoping that in his absence, I could regain control over my kingdom. Of course, this then turned on me when he sent my son, his own nephew, alone against you.
“I feared for his life, and I knew my brother’s heart. He sought to destroy my line, and take the throne for his own. However, I could do nothing. I had a chance, one chance to end this all, and I didn’t take it. And then... and then when I heard of my son’s defeat...” his voice began to break.
“It’s alright, Dad,” the prince whispered, and laid a talon on his father’s shoulder.
The king nodded, grasping his son’s hand and taking a calming breath. “When I heard of his defeat, I assumed the worse. And my anger burned against he who called himself my brother. I sent him to your shores to die, a slow, painful death, and my one regret in those days was not being there to deliver the final blow myself.”
“In the first week of his departure, I had his entire organization, every one of those monsters who conspired against me, executed. I whipped the entire bureaucracy into line, and rewrote almost every single law. For the first time since my son was hatched, I was truly the king of my country.”
The king sighed once more. “It was...selfish of me. Sending him to your shores to die. Risking your country for my own...but...but...I was upset...” Bloodfeather looked up at the two alicorns. “Forgive me, Mighty Ones, but it was a foolish thing to do.”
The alicorns shared a look.
Celestia then cleared her throat. “Tell me, your majesty, why did you not give your brother the throne?”
The king blinked. “Pardon?”
“If he wanted the throne, why did you not give it to him?”
The king blinked. “Because neither I nor my father thought he was fit to rule.”
“What!?” Ironclaw yelled from his bonds.
The King’s eyes snapped to his brother by blood, for there was little else to call him. “Father saw in you ambition, and he was pleased with it. But he also saw selfishness and apathy for those beneath you.”
“Lies!” Ironclaw spat.
“He saw a griffon who throw out a child into the darkness so that he may horde food. He saw a liar and a murderer of kin. The night he died, when he called my to his chambers to give me the key to the Words of Power, he told me to be wary of even you. You only proved him right when I find that you were behind the attempt to kill me and my wife!”
“She was weaker than you, you pathetic hatchling! She deserved to die, you—”
“Karsin Tor Halatos!” the king said, his voice deepening as he spoke. The tower shook as it echoed in the room, an ancient magic awakening as those words entered the air.
A ribbon of red mana suddenly wrapped around Ironclaw’s mouth. His beak slammed shut, and the ribbon melded together, silencing him.
“Don’t you dare say that about her!” the king yelled, standing. “Don’t you dare—”
“Your majesty,” Celestia interrupted, “please, sit down.”
Bloodfeather sat, but not before sending his brother one last glare.
“I see then,” the solar princess continued, “that you truly felt you had no choice. For this, then, you can be forgiven.”
Bloodfeather bowed. “Thank you, Mighty Ones.”
“However,” Luna said, “Actions do have consequences, and war demands a reckoning. We demand then that you surrender.”
Bloodfeather nodded, sighing. “Name your terms.”
Alan stood, clearing his throat. “Firstly, the four westernmost islands of the Eagle Beak Isles are to have three acres of land of each handed over to become Equestrian territories.”
The King nodded.
“Secondly, one of each of your machines of war, whether made for offensive or defensive purposes, shall be sent to Canterlot for study.”
Bloodfeather nodded again. “Tactical,” he muttered.
“Thirdly, the equivalent amount of fourteen million bits is to be paid in full to Canterlot for the Princesses to spend as they see fit.”
Calius winced, but nonetheless began to calculate the exchange rate.
“And finally...General Ironclaw...”
“Ah yes...” Bloodfeather began. “I do believe my son promised you his head—”
“No,” Alan interrupted. “Your son, perhaps wisely, promised me whatever I wanted.”
Bloodfeather blinked, before looking over at his son. “Is this true?”
Ironblood nodded. “I...I did...actually...”
Calius palmed his face. “Then I am honor-bound on behalf of my son to agree.” He sighed. “What do you wish, Pendragon?”
Alan smirked. “Why did your brother want your throne?”
Bloodfeather raised an eyebrow. “Power? Fame probably.”
“So then a true punishment would be to deprive him of both.”
Bloodfeather blinked. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that death is too good for him,” Alan said, gritting his teeth.
His voice seemed to echo suddenly in the silence of the throne room.
Alan looked straight into the eyes of the king, and spoke, his voice sounding far darker than the king thought a pony could say. “If he wanted power, make the least of you his master! If he wanted fame, erase him from history! Taunt him with whatever he wanted, show him his goals, and wave them in front of his face. Let him know that he will never have them. Let him know that everything he dreamed for will never be his. If he wanted beauty, maim him! If he wanted riches, leave him desolate! If he wanted to be a hero, mark him a traitor!”
“Pendragon,” Celestia spoke.
“Let him suffer forever! Let him live in shame for the rest of his life!”
“Pendragon,” Celestia called again, louder this time.
“Make him live in such agony that the pits of hell seem welcoming! Make him—”
“Pendragon!” Celestia called, her voice just barely a shout.
Alan stopped, before seating himself.
There was a brief silence in the throne room, before Bloodfeather stood. “Well, on the honor of my son, I am bound to take care of Ironclaw, however, I would like a moment to speak with my son about the treaty. If you want, you could explore the Keep while we discuss this.”
Celestia nodded. “Very well, take as long as you need.”
Alan opened his mouth to protest that, however was silenced when Celestia threw him a knowing nod. Standing, she then began to walk out of the throne room, and Luna and the others followed.
The door closed behind them, and Alan took the opportunity to speak. “Princess, the point in dominating the griffons until they surrendered was so that they would accept the treaty without any ifs, ands, or buts.”
Celestia nodded. “I am aware, Alan. But I don’t think the King wishes to refuse our conditions.”
“But—”
“Just trust me.”
Alan hesitantly shut up.
“Why don’t you take a moment to enjoy the sights. It may be the last time you see the Onyx Keep, and it is not something you want to forget.”
The ponies nodded, and began to head out. Twilight began to walk forward, before turning to face her coltfriend, “Hey, Alan, do you want to go check out that tree?”
“Sure, lead the way,” he said. Twilight smiled before heading down the hallway. Alan made to follow before he was stopped by a large wing draping over his withers.
The large white wing pulled him close to Celestia as she dropped her head down to his. “I’ve heard that you and Twilight are an item now,” she whispered into his ear. “So let me take a moment to make something clear. If you break her heart, Shining won’t have a chance to do whatever he threatened you with. Understand?”
If Alan did not already have a white coat, he would have been pale. “Y-Yes, ma’am.”
“Good, now run along.”
Alan ran.
The white Alicorn smirked as she watched him leave.
“Did you feel it on him, Tia?” Luna asked.
Celestia blinked. “What?”
“Sombra’s touch. He reeks of it. I fear our Pendragon has been corrupted.”
Celestia sighed. “Lu...”
“He is dangerous, Tia.”
“He was always dangerous, Luna,” Celestia said, “and Dark Magic is not Sombra’s tool alone to wield.”
The younger sister looked up at her. “What do you mean by that?”
“Dark Magic is simply an incarnation of hatred and fear. Alan comes from a world filled with both of those; it comes naturally to him,” she explained.
“Tia...?”
The older sighed. “When you...rebelled. I began a search. Something to cure you, or save you. Either, both, it didn’t really matter...I had the Elements, but I was afraid...”
There was silence between them.
“I was afraid that you would turn to stone and that you would never come back...” The white alicorn took a deep breath through the nose. “...so I searched for alternatives.”
“Tia...” Luna spoke, her eyes widening, “did you...?”
“I learned many things about the arcane that day, Luna,” Celestia said, her voice strong and stoic, “including that hatred and fear cannot defeat jealousy.”
“Tia...” Luna said, a tear in her eye. She stepped closer, nuzzling the older sibling. “You idiot.”
<<<|Ω|>>>
The lavender mare and the white stallion entered the domed room. The two griffon guards stood next to the tree, dressed in an ornate golden armor with lion head motifs. Their beaks were covered by a face mask of gold, molded to form a lion’s snout, the total opposite of the opened-faced guards at the door of the throne room.
They both flanked the odd-looking tree, and only their eyes moved as they watched the two unicorns enter.
“Hm...let’s see...” Twilight began. “It seems to be a subtype of the Olea Genus, or, at the very least, seems to hold the same physical qualities, bark excluded.” She muttered something about not having some parchment, and went to examine one of the leaves. “Yes, it definitely looks like an olive tree, and given it’s size, I’d estimate it to be around three hundred years old.”
“Oh I assure you,” a voice said behind them, “he is far older than that.”
The ponies turned to see a young griffoness enter the room, holding a silver basin of water in one talon. Her feathers were pure white and her eyes a light shade of pink. Alan briefly wondered if she was an albino, although the way her wings draped across her back brought the image of Galadriel’s flowing white robe to mind.
“I would suggest that you not touch him,” the griffon spoke again. “The guards are honor-bound to kill any of those not of my bloodline who touch the Tree of Gryphus.”
“The Tree of Gryphus?” Alan asked.
The griffoness nodded. “The founder of the Empire, King Brutus Dawnsteel, called together the leaders of the warring tribes of this land and defeated each and everyone of them in talon-to-talon combat under this tree. Once he defeated them all, he then claimed his right to rule over each of the tribes, and founded the Empire. At the time, it was only known as the Kingdom of Gryphus, but that is another story.”
Alan nodded. “Is that why he is a King and not an Emperor? Because his realm was originally a kingdom?”
The griffoness nodded. “And since those days, my ancestors have cared for this tree. Legend says that when it dies, so shall the Empire.”
Alan nodded. “I see.”
“So, as the caretaker of this tree,” Twilight began, “you surely know its species, right?”
The white griffon smiled before approaching the tree. Setting the basin at the base of the trunk, she carefully poured the water out, onto the roots. “This tree, sadly, has no species. It is the last of his kind. Once, they were know as Silverwood trees, named so for their bark. Others called them Gem Blossoms.”
“Why did they call them that?” Alan asked.
The maid smiled, before dipping her claw into the remainder of the water in the basin. It was hardly a quarter full. Taking her wet talon, she looked up and singled out a branch. Her wings spread, and with a gentle flap, she launched herself upward. Her claw, still wet, then gently stroked the long, narrow, pale green leaves, and in response to their touch, something amazing happened.
Alan could hardly believe his eyes as dozens of buds suddenly bloomed. Each bloom looked eerily like a cherry blossom, each with five petals that widened at the ends. Of course, none of this was as important as the fact that each and every one of them looked like individual diamonds.
And then, before his eyes, the blossoms wilted and died.
The griffon landed gracefully, and could only smirk as she saw Alan’s gaping mouth. “Does that answer your question?”
“Um...” Alan began blinking.
“The buds only truly blossom during a rain, but it has been centuries since he has been outside.”
“Incredible,” Twilight muttered. “That...is...its amazing...”
The griffoness smiled. “I’m glad you think so.” She held out her talon, “Lydia Snowlily, Maiden of the Tree, at your service.”
Twilight laid her hoof in the griffon’s claw and gave it a good shake. “My name is Twili-er I suppose General Twilight Sparkle, now.”
The griffon still held her smile. “A pleasure.”
“And this,” Twilight said, motion towards Alan, “is Pendragon Alan Goldenhoof.”
Her smile vanished. “P-Pendragon?”
Alan saw her smile disappeared, and instantly regretted the introduction. This griffon probably had lost someone to the war, and probably held him responsible. “Ma’am, I assure you—”
He didn’t get to finish his apology before he was suddenly tackled. “Thank you!” Lydia cried, weeping into his shoulder. “Thank you for bringing him back to me!”
Alan blinked, looking over at Twilight, who only shrugged as the keeper of the tree cried into his shoulder, muttering her thanks.
<<<|Ω|>>>
King Bloodfeather regarded his son rather carefully. “Are you sure about this?”
The Prince nodded. “I have seen the Pendragon fight, Father, and he is ruthless. If he put his mind to it, there would be nothing he could not take. The walls of the Keep would be nothing more than a prison for us to wither in before he took it. However, he is honorable. He treated my soldiers, and myself, with the utmost respect. He will honor this if he accepts it, and it is in our best interest that we propose it.”
“But will he accept it?” the King asked.
“The Pendragon cares for those under him. If we guarantee the safety of his troops, he will accept it.”
“If we honor our own agreement. Remember we are still his enemy.”
“That is why I am suggesting this. It will seal the deal.”
The King sighed. It was not a...perfect situation, but it would do. “Very well, call them in.”
<<<|Ω|>>>
The ponies filled back into the throne room, where the two griffons sat stoically.
As the Princesses took their seats, the King stood. “I wish to thank you, Mighty Ones, for the opportunity you gave to us.”
Celestia nodded. “As long as you realize that I can and will dismiss any conditions you bring that disagree with me.”
“Of course,” the King said. “Firstly, we will be willing to give the entirety of the aforementioned islands, provided of course that the griffons living there are allowed to continue to do so.”
Celestia nodded.
“Secondly, we would also like to offer you some of our best griffon craftmasters to help you as you see fit, as well as some of our architects to aid you in any reconstruction that may be necessary.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. “Buttering us up?”
The King blinked, unsure of how to proceed with that. It would be considered an insult to have someone tell him his actions were of an ulterior motive, but Celestia was being who was for all intents and purposes immortal, and could probably read even the best poker face.
Besides, he was kind of buttering them up.
“Well...”
“Not so much buttering you up...” the Prince explained, “more we’re switching sides.”
Alan raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“We wish to use this opportunity to become allies,” the King said.
Alan blinked.
“Seeing as how both of us have fallen victim to my brother’s,” he spat the word, “treachery, I think that the best course of action is to guarantee that it never happens again.”
Alan stood. “Not that I don’t trust you, but how do we know this alliance will be honored?”
The Prince smiled. “We have something for that.”
Alan eyed the Prince. The Prince simply smiled back. “Well?” Alan asked.
The Prince then reached behind the throne and pulled out a golden dagger and two lengths of white cloth. “An agreement made by blood is permanent, and any griffon who breaks one is to be exiled from his people.”
“Wow, that’s pretty intense,” Rainbow Dash whispered under her breath.
Alan looked over to Celestia. She looked to the others.
They didn’t seem all too ready to complain.
Celestia turned back to the King, nodding. “These terms are agreeable.”
The King nodded in return, before calling out. “Send for Amadeus Penstroke!”
“Yes, your majesty,” a guard answered before ducking out of the room.
A few minutes later, a scribe with a small pair of round glasses entered, trailing an unrolling scroll as he frantically scurried into the throne room. In a few seconds, despite his unorganized entrance, the scribe was set up, and ready to record.
“I, King Calius Bloodfeather, do hereby declare that the Empire of Gryphus, is from now on, and forever will be, an ally to the Kingdom of Equestria and the ponies therein.”
Celestia stood. “I, Princess Celestia the Firstborn, do hereby declare that the Kingdom of Equestria is from now on, and forever will be, an ally to the Empire of Gryphus and the griffons therein.”
Calius nodded, and the Prince drew the dagger, and with a quick slash, sliced open his talon.
“To seal this agreement between these two countries,” the King continued, “my one, and only son, Prince Julius Ironblood, shall become bloodkin with...” he raised his claw at Celestia, cueing her to choose her deleget.
“Alan?” she called.
“Yes, Princess?” he answered.
“Would you do the honors?”
Alan nodded and stepped forward.
“Pendragon Alan Goldenhoof,” the King finished as the Prince made a quick cut across Alan’s foreleg. “From now until forever, if someone attacks those of his blood, they have attacked my own, and any who attack my own has attacked his. This alliance has been sealed in blood, and stands before The Winged Creator from now until the End of Time.”
“So be it,” said Celestia.
“So be it.”
As the two finished their dialogue, the Prince took Alan’s foreleg in his talon, and Alan’s white fur began to stain red as the two fluids mixed.
For a few long minutes, the two shared blood, before Ironblood released him and bandaged their wounds with the cloth. Smiling, the Prince looked Alan over. “And now, Pendragon, you are a Prince, a son of Bloodfeather. My brother by blood pact.”
Alan, for some reason beyond his understanding, smiled. “So it seems.”
“The alliance has been sealed, and the deal is done,” Celestia said, speaking with finality.
“Indeed it has, Mighty One,” Bloodfeather bowed. “However, I have one final gift to give to my newest son.”
Alan looked over at the King with interest.
Calius smiled as he approached the throne. Standing in front of it, he quickly dismissed Penstroke and his guards, leaving only the Prince and the ponies in the room with him. They watched with mild fascination as the King hunched over his cushioned seat, and with an audible click, it popped open. Reaching in, he carefully pulled out a black, leather bound book.
Julius blinked at the sight. “Is that...?”
The King smiled as he approached the Pendragon. Before holding the book aloft. “This is the Book of Power. In it are written the Words of Power, passed down from the Winged Creator herself, her only gift of magic to griffon kind.”
“The Words of Faust,” Celestia said.
Bloodfeather nodded. “In olden times, each tribe had a spell, passed from chief to chief. When King Dawnsteel founded the Empire, as tribute he demanded every spell be given to his line, and it has passed, father to son since then. Today, I wish to give you one.”
Suddenly, the book launched itself from his claw to in front of Alan’s face. It opened, and the pages flipped as though a wind had blown through the palace.
Before anyone could so much as move, three incorporeal tentacles of golden light rose from the pages. They hovered for a moment, standing from the book, bobbing like cobras, before two of them slammed into Alan’s eyes. He let loose a cry of surprise before the third shoved itself down his throat.
Golden magic flooded his veins, his mind, his being.
“Hello, Alan...” a voice echoed from the corners of his brain. “I have been waiting for this.”
The white figure of a red-maned alicorn flashed across his vision.
“I am very proud of you,” the voice said again before the figure disappeared in another flash.
And then, for a split second, there was nothing but pure agony.
He tried to scream, but the magic in his throat prevented him, so all he could do was writhe as three words were burned into his memory. He would never forget those words, no matter how long he lived, nor how hard he tried to forget.
Fastali. Force. Power. Raw, unadulterated energy.
Vistes. Fire. Flame. The burning fury of the sun itself.
Jotum. Sound. Roar. A cry that would echo off the mountains.
His voice, unbidden, rose to his throat. Tears came to his eyes as an urge to shout came over him. He wanted to do nothing else than to unleash his voice.
The golden tentacle that was down his throat nearly made him choke, and his voice rose higher to meet it.
The magick forced itself back down, and Alan tried not to gag.
But his voice rose once more, and this time, it won. Bursting outward, those three words erupted from his throat. “Fastali Vistes Jotum!”
The tentacles of magick shattered as a concussive blast erupted from Alan’s vocal chords, a stream of fire followed, and the Prince ducked out of the way. And then, as the final word came into play, the wordless roar of a dragon echoed in the palace.
The tower shook. The Keep shook.
The mountain shook.
And then it was over. The book fell to the floor with a loud slap, the pages stilled, and the only sound was that of Alan coughing on the floor.
For a few moments, no one said anything, their ears ringing too loud to properly hear, anyways.
Finally the King spoke. “Never used the Dragon Voice spell before...”
“That...” Alan wheezed in a raspy whisper. “That...”
“I’d try and cut back on speaking for a few days, son,” the King said. “You’ll get used to it eventually.”
Alan only coughed in response.
“The first time is always the worst.”
Alan sounded like he was hacking up a lung.
“Try to stick to one word at a time for a while, build up a resistance.”
“Oh gosh, this hurts!” Alan hoarsely answered.
“What did I say about not talking?”
The others recovered soon after that, and their reactions ranged everywhere from the simplest of “Wow”s to “By Luna’s Left Legs!”
This comment did earn Silver a confused glance from said alicorn, but she didn’t really do anything about it.
Dash’s mouth just fell open, before she muttered something along the lines of “Awesome.”
Twilight’s eyes went wide, as did her smile. This...this sort of magic was unheard of! This deserved all sorts of study and research! What’s more, she would have plenty of opportunities to study it! After all, Alan was her coltfriend.
Applejack, Shining, Rarity, Spike, Pinkie, and Soarin were all shocked to silence.
Big Mac stared in silence, before noticing a light pink tail poking out from under the table, and a weak “eep” escaping from a certain pegasus’ lips.
Celestia simply smiled.
“Why don’t you go rest a bit. When you leave, we will address our armies, and you may leave with everything you need.”
Alan continued to wheeze, before nodding.
<<<|Ω|>>>
In the darkest dungeon of the Onyx Keep, Ironclaw sat.
He had nothing better to do but to start rotting.
He was chained to the iron wall, of his small, iron cell, with only an iron door as the only indication that there was an outside world at all.
It was cold down here.
And that pony sent him here.
Pendragon Alan Goldenhoof had doomed him to be forgotten. His name was to be stricken from all records, he was to lose all power, and he was not even allowed a guard. No, because he could talk to a guard, and the guard would remember him.
He was not even guaranteed food. The guards would feed him, provided they didn't forget him. But this was an oubliette, a forgetter. He was meant to be forgotten.
By the Hells, the previous occupant was still here, in the cell, and over there, by the wall, and over there, by the other wall, his bone scattered to make room for the once proud general.
Ironclaw briefly wondered who the griffon was. He must’ve done something serious to be thrown down here. A murderer maybe? A cannibal? Or was he thrown down here by a stuck up king for something as trivial as serving the King’s dinner with one too many peas?
The sound of a deadbolt sliding home caught the Ex-General’s attention. What was this? Was he getting fed? Already? He’d only been down here for a few hours. There was no need to feed him.
Then his ears picked up another sound.
Clop. Clop. Clop.
That was the sound of hooves.
Was he...?
The door to his cell opened with another slide of a deadbolt, and in stepped the Pendragon, confirming his suspicions.
“Hello, Pendragon,” the griffon spat. “Come to gloat?”
Alan said nothing.
“No? Come to see me then, ready to rot, with your own eyes?”
Alan did not reply.
“What? You just want to be silent?”
Silence.
“Fine. Be silent. I’m going to have to get used to it anyway.” The griffon smirked. “So there you are, the great Hero. The Paragon of Justice and Truth.”
The griffon smirked.
“You know...I’ve always had a feeling that Calius knew what was going on. Always feared that he had figured it out in his sleep one night.” He laughed. “I shouldn’t have waited. I should have just slit his throat that same night. But no, I had to be careful. I couldn’t risk that. I’d be named a Kin Slayer, and would have been killed on the spot. So I had to wait, cover my tracks, wait and watch for the opportune moment.”
Markus chuckled. “And then it came. In a wonderful little bipedal package.”
If Alan still had fingers, they would have clenched into a tight fist.
“You know, I was beginning to wonder if waiting would ever pay off. I had almost given up, even. And then here he comes, waltzing into the Princess’ good graces as though she had been expecting him. It was all just too perfect.”
The griffon laughed. “If I hadn’t found his print there, I would have framed him myself. If he hadn’t been so rude, I would have forced one of Celestia’s perfect guards to attack me. I would have gone through the Hells themselves just to make sure that war was going to be declared.
“That human was perfect for my plan.” He scowled. “And then he ruined it. He had to go and win. And then you showed up, and decided to keep my dear nephew alive.”
“You ruined everything. I’m sure you’re happy to know.”
Alan said nothing.
“But do you want to know the best part?” Markus asked, his yellow eyes glinting in the darkness. “If it weren’t for the Human, I probably would never have attacked. The same thing that ruined my plan, started it. In a way, it’s all his fau—”
A small, silver blade slashed at the griffon’s neck. Not deep, just enough to draw blood. Markus grunted in pain, and his talon instinctively moved to his throat to hold the wound, only to be stopped by the chains.
“The next time I see you,” Alan wheezed, “I’ll give you the other nine hundred and ninety nine cuts.”
The griffon looked at him, confusion written on his face.
Death of a thousand cuts...
And then his eyes widened in realization.
“You.”
Alan turned and walked out.
“You!”
The door closed and the locked shut.
“I will get you, human! You will pay for this! I will get out! I will get revenge! Do you hear me! You will pay!”
The other door shut, leaving Markus Ironclaw to rail and rage against the chains and iron walls of his cell.
Because that was all that was left to hear him.
<<<|Ω|>>>
“Fillies and Gentlecolts! Gentlegriffs!” King Bloodfeather called, getting the attention of every eye and ear in the courtyard. “We have great news.”
The Princesses, as well as Alan and the Generals and Captains stood next to each other.
The King stepped forward and motioned to Alan. “I present to you, Prince Alan Goldenhoof, Pendragon of Equestria, and my son by Blood Pact. Any who declares war on him, has declared war on me. Is this understood?”
The griffons of the Keep answered. “Sir, yes sir!”
Bloodfeather smiled, before turning to Alan and the Princesses. “You are free to leave in peace, as our allies.”
Celestia smiled before stepping forward, her armor morphing as she did. The red, fiery metal transformed into the familiar gold regalia. Her crown of flames turning back into the simple gold tiara with the amethyst gem at it’s center. “My little ponies,” she said, addressing her fine, brave soldiers, “this war is over.”
A cry of victory erupted from their throats, all the way out of the courtyard to those who could not fit inside. “Victory!” they cried. “Victory!”
It was over.
After seven months of war, it was finally over.
As the ponies began to file out of the Onyx Keep that day, their army was accompanied by the sound of music.
“From the mists of the mountains a deafening call
Bellows down over the plains
On a host of battle-worn ears it does fall
Pushing out through the thunder and rain
These sons of the north, they have suffered too long
The anger it swells in their veins
Of the spirited roars of lost warriors' songs
Distant echoes are all that remain.”
<<<|Ω|>>>
Ponyville, Twenty-four days later...
Pipsqueak, was well...unhappy.
He was bored, tired, anxious, and...
His eyes wandered to Applebloom.
Well...maybe he wasn’t that bad off.
But still, he was bored. His new teacher, Miss Cheerilee, was nice, but the stuff she taught was boring, all they way up until she got to World History, that was fun, but the other stuff...
Scootaloo was a little hard to reach for a few weeks, since she was spending so much time with her dad, but she soon joined back up with the Cutie Mark Crusaders. The Crusaders seemed rather eager to have him along, even if he was a “colt” as Sweetie would say.
Applebloom didn’t seem to mind at all though, and neither did Scoots. As a result, he found himself crusading with the rest of them.
As a side effect, he learned that that Diamond Tiara filly was a jerk, and that she was always followed around by that quiet one. Silver Spoon, was it?
“Miss Cheerilee,” Applebloom called, breaking the colt of his mental monologue.
“Yes, Applebloom?”
“Do y’all hear that?”
There was total silence in the classroom, and the faint words of a song floated through the air.
“And we stand tall
Sons of the snow
We will not fall
Under these blows
For our hearts they are hardy
Our spirits are strong
And our voices are lifted into
This Paradise song.”
The foals sat there for one second.
Two seconds.
And then they rushed for the door.
As the school children left, the door hanging open, and the dust settling, Cheerilee smiled.
Although she was finding rather uncanny that they kept showing up during school hours.
<<<|Ω|>>>
The residents of Ponyville were going about their business.
It was, after all, just another Spring day.
A real Spring day, at that. Since they were a little low on ponypower, they were expected to be late with Winter Wrap Up this year, but they had finally caught up.
Carrot Top smiled to herself. It was still too cold to plant her crop, but give it a few weeks, and it’d be ready to go. The Apples didn’t need to worry about their orchard (the big upside to trees), so she could manage to take a short break today.
She sat at the Horseshoe cafe, sipping some coffee in the early morning, enjoying the perfectly normal Ponyville day.
Every foal from school suddenly ran by the cafe, shouting “They’re back! They’re back!” at the top of their lungs as an ancient battle song floated through the air.
A perfectly normal Ponyville day.
<<<|Ω|>>>
As Alan stepped down onto the train platform, he smiled.
Everywhere he looked, foals, mares, and stallions met with their loved ones.
Thunderlane picked up a small grey colt. “Rumble!”
“Bro!”
Applejack and Rarity took their respective sisters in hoof, giving them both a well deserved hug.
Twilight smiled as she rubbed up against him. “We’re back,” she said.
Alan nodded. “We are.”
Alan suddenly felt something warm against his foreleg. Looking down, he saw the young spotted colt at his leg. “Back for good?”
Alan smiled, before a silver mana hand picked Pip up and set him on his back. “Back for good.”
--------------------------------
“Whee! Another Chapter!”
Yeah, another chapter, and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out, even though I felt like I hit a rough spot in the middle there.
“And the war is over now, right?”
Eeyup.
“So does that mean that things are going to get boring now?”
Not on your life.
See you next time guys.
Bye!
------------------
Omake (a.k.a. Something I wanted to write, but it would ruin everything so this isn’t canon):
“So what do you wish to do with him?” Bloodfeather asked. “Life imprisonment, beheading, a duel to the death?”
Alan smirked. “No. To the Pain.”
Bloodfeather furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m not familiar with that one...”
“Let me explain,” Alan said. “To the pain means that the first thing he will lose will be his paws below the ankles, then his claws at the wrists, next his nose. The next thing to be lost will be his left eye followed by his right.”
“And then his ears I suppose?”
“Wrong! His ears he’ll keep and I'll tell you why; so that every shriek of every child at seeing his hideousness is his to cherish. Every babe that weeps at his approach, every woman who cries out, 'dear Faust, what is that thing!' will echo in his perfect ears. That is what to the pain means. It means I leave him in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever.”
Silence filled the throne room.
And then Spike the Dragon stood. “Dude. That’s creepy.”