//------------------------------// // Book One: Chapter One: The Last Normal Day // Story: Myths and Birthrights // by Tundara //------------------------------// Myths and Birthrights By Tundara Book One: Awakening and Arrivals Chapter One: The Last Normal Day Traditionally, mornings at the Books and Branches Library started late. In fact, mornings started so late they barely had time to get out of bed and stretch before they were turning into afternoon. This was due in no small part to the Librarian—a student of magic from Canterlot, Heroine of Equestria, Countess of the Everfree, and confirmed night-owl—Twilight Sparkle. It wasn't that she slept more than other ponies. As Twilight boasted, she needed less sleep than the average pony, a mere six point six, six, nine hours being sufficient. Neither was she an insomniac. Once her head hit the pillow, Twilight usually fell asleep within minutes, drifting off into dreams even if there was a pressing problem buzzing about in her thoughts. This ability had been honed, thanks to careful lessons from Celestia. It served Twilight well, and she found most problems had a tendency to be sorted by her subconscious mind while she slept. Twilight’s dreams used to concern her somewhat. Ironically, the only time the technique failed was when Twilight was worried about disappointing or failing Celestia. Rather, the trouble was that she stayed up until the early hours of the morning. Twilight was an avid stargazer and candlelight reader. She found the flickering lights heightened the experience, creating a soft, mystical blanket that made her feel like her hero, Star Swirl the Bearded. By some weird quirk, all her best ideas had a habit of coalescing around midnight. Most often they would occur as she gazed out her window up at the velvet tapestry of the night. There would be a little flash of inspiration followed by a giddy little rush as she’d write them down. The stars always seemed just a touch brighter when she had these moments of brilliance. Therefore, Twilight was shocked when she felt a small claw on her back, right above her kidneys, at around seven in the morning. Groaning, Twilight rolled over, pillow sliding from her face onto the floor allowing the beams of sunlight filtering through the crack in the curtains to assault her tender eyes. "Spiiiiiike, what is it?" "Letter from the Princess," answered her assistant, the dragon chuckling as Twilight's red-rimmed eyes burst open and fixated on the scroll held in his claws. "What! When did it arrive? Is she mad at me?" Twilight scrambled out of her bed as her voice grew more stressed, and her mane took on a frizzy appearance, one not helped by her terrible bed-mane. Spike had taken to waking up before Twilight in the last several months, a stark reversal of their old sleeping habits. It did let the young drake have an hour, or rather the entire morning, to himself before Twilight would eventually drag herself out of bed. On their stand, Owlowisious and Peewee both rolled their eyes and ruffled their feathers, the owl and phoenix both finding the antics amusing. While Owlowisious tried to return to sleep, Peewee hopped from rung to rung of the stand, chirping and beating his developing wings. Performing an awkward controlled fall, the young phoenix landed on Spike’s head, where he mimicked the drake’s smug grin and proud tilt of the head. With a tight smile and little flourish, Spike presented the rolled scroll to his surrogate sister. Her eyebrow arched a little when she noticed that it wasn't the red and gold seal of Celestia, nor the midnight blue of Luna. Letting out a relieved sigh, Twilight recognized the soft pink of Cadence’s seal that was wrapped around the parchment. The moment Twilight read past the opening pleasantries a hair sprung loose from her mane. "Twilight, what's going on?" Spike couldn't keep the concern out of his voice. "It's my family… They’re all coming down tomorrow to visit me for this year’s Celebration of Life," Twilight said, a disbelieving note in her voice. “All of them?” Spike shook his head and looked up at Twilight puzzled. “Well, not all.” Twilight waved the letter towards Spike. “Just Mother, Father, Shiny, and Cadence.” “So, only a few, then,” Spike grunted as he took the letter. "That’s okay. Pinkie was planning a party for you anyways, since it's your twenty-first birthday and everything. This doesn't change anything, just a few more names on the guest list." For emphasis Spike pulled out a list of names. "Well, yes, except I was expecting only a dozen guests. I don't have enough punch or hors d'oeuvres for more ponies. And I already re-decorated the guest bedroom for Princess Luna. We don't have room for everypony to stay here, which means I need to reserve rooms at the inn." Twilight began pacing around her bedroom, eyes darting in a manner that Spike knew meant she was quickly doing some arithmetic and juggling potential solutions. "Plus, there's this line here from my parents saying they have something very important to tell me now that I am legally a full adult. What's that mean? What can they tell me tomorrow that they can't tell me now, or last week, or last year!" Twilight was brought out of her spiraling train of thought by Spike snapping her name. With a little twitch in the corner of her eye, she looked down at the small dragon. "Twilight, you're having a panic attack," Spike stated, slowly walking up to her and laying a claw on her withers. Quickly, Twilight did a catalogue of her symptoms. Elevated fluttering heart rate, check; crawling sensation in the skin, check; negative thoughts, check; desire to run and escape, check; nausea, check; oh, and there's the feeling of unreality, so check again! Left ear flicking and eye twitching faster, Twilight mentally reached for her most important checklist. She had spent weeks memorizing the checklist, just in case. She couldn't trust to always have a physical copy nearby—Twilight had tried that, it didn't work. Sitting quickly, she took a long deep breath in through her nose, and let it out from her mouth. Repeating this several times, Twilight began saying a short mantra. "I am calm, I am collected, I can handle this. I am calm, I am collected, I can handle this. This isn't an emergency, I have time to think this through. This isn't an emergency, I have time to think this through." After several minutes of breathing exercises and repeating mantras, Twilight opened her eyes and smiled down on Spike. "Thank you, whatever would I do without my number one assistant?" She playfully ruffled Spike’s soft spines, eliciting a gag and huff from the dragon. "You'd probably be running around trying to re-organise the library, maybe hide in a corner chewing on your tail, or-" "Yes, Spike I get it, I can go crazy sometimes." Twilight gave Spike a deadpan look as she headed towards the kitchen. "Come on, we'll need to go to the market and get more food, then head to Sugarcube Corner to inform Pinkie that there will be more ponies at the party. As the party planner, it's only polite to inform her. Knowing Pinkie, she'll probably want to throw a little pre-party to welcome my family. But first, let's have breakfast." At the mention of breakfast, the little dragon scampered after her with a happy smile on his lips. The Friendship Express rolled to a slow stop, a shrill whistle announcing its arrival at Ponyville’s train station. Families lined up outside the train, tearful good-byes and joyful welcomings were exchanged between friends and loved ones all along the platform. Sighing to herself, Fleur de Lis stood and adjusted the single set of saddlebags she had brought. Normally, she would have travelled with half a dozen suitcases. Normally, she'd also travel in the First Class car along with the other nobles, wealthy business tycoons, celebrities, and members of Equestria’s gentry. But this trip was not normal, not in any sense of the word. Pausing as she looked left and right, Fleur saw a couple ponies she recognised; a pair of mares from the famed group, The Elements of Harmony. Heroines all, they had done more than she could hope to do in two lifetimes. The first was Twilight Sparkle, the leader of the group, personal protégé of Princess Celestia, Countess of the Everfree, and one of the most humble and under-appreciated mares alive. The Canterlot Elite took great pains to snub and look down on Twilight Sparkle and her friends. Fleur had never understood their penchant for trying to squash those they saw as undesirables. Not that it mattered. Rumour among the palace was that Twilight Sparkle was being groomed for the position of Arch-Mage, and combined with her other titles, the position of her House, and her own natural skill, Twilight was going to be a mare with considerable power and clout in a short while. Then they would be scurrying and begging for Twilight's favour. Fleur had seen it happen before. The other mare present was a pink earth pony, bouncing up and down on the spot like a ball. A cake, complete with lit candles, was perched atop her head and the widest grin was plastered on her face. 'Pinkie Pie', Fleur said to herself recalling the mare's name. Element of Laughter and a Lady of the Court. Hardly a care in the world, Pinkie Pie was singing a jaunty, bouncy tune as the pair stood on the platform. Fleur didn't wait around to see whom they were waiting to greet. Spying was beneath her and not something she ever indulged in. At least socially. There were some spies she knew on a professional level. Then again, what ambassador to a foreign country didn't know at least a few spies? Leaving the train station, Fleur pulled out a small map of the town, and quickly located her destination. Setting off at a brisk trot, Fleur tried to not think about the events that had brought her to Ponyville, instead focusing on the future. The future involving a brightly-painted circular building near the town's center and market district. Humming a song popularised during the wedding of Princess Cadence and Sir Shining Armour the previous spring, Fleur felt her spirits lift for the first time that day. Yes, the future was going to be brighter, Fleur promised herself. After all, how could it be any worse than the recent past? As the song was reaching its inevitable finale, Fleur's destination came into sight, Carousel Boutique. Slowing to a walk, doubt settled in around Fleur's thoughts. She'd been so certain when she’d left Canterlot that morning that what she was doing was the right thing. Of all the mares in Equestria, Rarity Belle was the only one Fleur would call a true friend. Canterlot high society was not conducive to the making, or keeping, of friends. Not for Fleur anyways, who, as the ambassador from distant Prance, was often seen with scorn and as a necessary evil. Relations between Equestria and Prance had been chilly for generations. Fleur had done more than any of her predecessors to close the gulf between the two nations, but was still ostracised by Equestria’s elite and nobility. Today, Fleur needed a friend more than anything. Steeling her resolve, Fleur went up to the door, pushed it open and went inside to the jingle of a bell. "Come in, and welcome to Carousel Boutique, where everything is chic, unique, and magnifique!" said a welcoming sing-song voice Fleur knew very well. Rounding a corner from—presumably—her work area came the store's owner. She looked rougher than the last time Fleur had seen her. A few hairs of the white unicorn's purple mane were out of place, with barely detectable bags under her eyes. Seeing Fleur, she gasped lightly, removed the red glasses perched atop her nose, and gave a wide genuine smile. "Fleur, darling, whatever are you doing down in little old Ponyville? Do come in, please," Rarity added, beckoning for Fleur to follow her into the back, which Fleur quickly discovered was a sizable kitchen and dining area. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Biscuits? Anything at all?" "Oui, mon amie, some tea would be delightful," Fleur replied with a tired smile as she set her saddlebags by the door before taking a seat at the table. "I wasn't expecting to see you until the Winter Fashion Show in Canterlot, darling," Rarity said, making small chat as she set a kettle on the stove and retrieved a tin of biscuits from a cupboard. "Tell me, how are you doing, and how is Fancy Pants?" Fleur winced at the mention of her husband and looked down at the red and white checkered tablecloth. Something so plain and homely would never have existed in a Canterlot noble's home. There was almost certainly a story behind the tablecloth for it to be in Rarity's home. The fashionista prided herself too much on her sense of decor for it to be otherwise. Knowing she couldn't stay quiet and ruminate on the checkered pattern, Fleur slowly looked up and said the words she been dreading—and wanting—to say all day. "Fancy Pants and I had a fight. It... wasn't pleasant." "Oh," was all Rarity said, her demeanor morphing from an excited friend about to share gossip, to one about to console and provide support. A few minutes passed in silence as the tea was prepared. Finally, as the tea was being poured, Rarity said, "If you are here, then it must have been very terrible, if you don't mind my saying." "Non, I don't, because it is true," Fleur muttered. Taking the steaming cup in her shaky magical grasp she took a quick sip before adding, "It is all my fault as well." Pausing to sip her own tea, Rarity waited with a patience that would have made Celestia herself proud. As their tea slowly dwindled, Rarity finally asked, "Do you wish to talk about it? I understand if you don't." "Oui, talking is good, I think," Fleur sighed, closing her eyes. For a few more minutes Fleur tried to say what was on her mind, but each time the words caught in her throat. After the fourth attempt, she decided to try another avenue of conversation and hope she'd gather her courage in the interim. "Why haven't you sought to court Fancy Pants?" Fleur winced as the question rolled off her lips. Rarity's crystal blue eyes widened for an almost imperceptible moment, before settling into a soft faraway gaze. It was a touchy subject between the two friends. Over the two years they had known each other, Fleur had come to enjoy Rarity's company, and respect her for putting friendship before appearances. Fleur had dropped hints and suggestions that if Rarity wanted to court Fancy Pants and join the budding herd, she'd not be opposed. As the first mare it was her right and prerogative to allow other mares into the herd, and Fleur could think of none other she'd be willing to accept. For her part, Rarity had always changed or avoided the subject. "I suppose it’s because I’ve always wanted a charming and dashing prince of my own. A stallion to whisk me off my hooves in a blazing whirlwind of romance. Don't get me wrong, dear, Fancy Pants is everything a mare could ask for and more. But I want a strong, gallant, and tender warrior-prince like out of the books of my own." Tilting her head a little, Fleur gave Rarity a perplexed stare. It sounded a bit like Rarity was suggesting she was a monogamist. Fleur didn't rule it out, though among the female dominated population of ponies it was exceedingly rare. For every colt almost three fillies were born. As if sensing where Fleur's thoughts were headed, Rarity grew flustered. "It's not that... What I meant was rather... Oh, bother." Taking a few breaths, Rarity collected her thoughts before she again spoke. "I know it’s impossible and nothing more than a fairy tale. A foalish dream, perhaps. One Prince Blueblood did a thorough job treading into the mud. But I wanted to have something like what you and Fancy Pants share. It's selfish, I suppose, and something that perhaps the Element of Generosity shouldn't entertain, but there it is. Besides, the last few years I've focused on my work and my friends. I'm no longer in any rush to find a stallion." Fleur nodded slowly, everything Rarity said made sense with what Fleur knew about her. The way Rarity cringed when she called herself foalish spoke volumes more than the words themselves. Behind Rarity's eyes there was a twinge of loneliness, but also resilience. The dress-maker was speaking only half the truth, Fleur could tell. While Fleur regretted her foolish question, she couldn't stop herself from digging a little deeper. "What about foals?" "What about them, darling?" "Have you ever thought about them? What they would look like. How they'd run around your hooves or get into all sorts of mischief?" Fleur's mind and voice both trailed off so that she missed the first portion of Rarity's reply. She became lost in a sea of swirling thoughts and memories, ranging from her courtship of Fancy Pants to the events and argument of that morning. "Yes, I've thought about it. What mare doesn't?" Rarity said with an almost whimsical half-smile as her own thoughts pattered down old fantasies. Both mares returned to the present as Rarity said, "But that is all far down the road for me. Maybe in a few years when I'm more established, and have found the proper stallion, whomever he may be, I'll have a foal, or three. But now? I put that off to the indefinable future." Dreams, and the memories of dreams, continued to swirl about Fleur as she sipped at her tea. "I used to dream of what mine and Fancy Pants' foals would look like. Would they have had his eyes or mine? Would they have been kind and gentle like him, or irrepressible scamps as I once was? I could close my eyes and smell the incense of the Temple of Names and feel the heat of the candles on my face. I tried to imagine what the priestesses' draughts would taste like and my foals' names would be. They were good dreams." "'Used to'?" "Oui." Silence again reigned in the boutique as Fleur stared into the remnants of her tea. After a few minutes tears began to slowly slide their way down her muzzle. Fleur didn't try to stop them, unlike during the train ride. She let them fall gently from her face to tap on the out of place tablecloth. A hoof reached across the table and clasped her own, giving it a gentle reassuring touch. "What happened?" "It is what can never happen, mon amie," Fleur said, at last rubbing the tears from her eyes. "Fancy and I, we've been trying for a foal the last few years with no success. With the Season almost upon us again I thought to see a doctor. I've heard of mares who needed some help or push to conceive, and thought it'd be simple enough. Maybe a potion or some terrible tasting herb I'd have to chew. I— I didn't expect…" Fleur grew quiet again as emotions rose in her chest, pressing her throat and mouth closed. With all the patience and grace one would expect from the royalty, Rarity waited, her hoof never leaving Fleur's own. The words seemed pointless. From the glimmer of tears gathering in Rarity's eyes, Fleur knew that her friend at least suspected what was about to be said. But she also knew that if she didn't say them, she'd hate herself all the more. "I can't have foals. Ever." "Oh, Fleur," Rarity whispered, sliding from her chair so she could embrace her friend in a tight hug. For what felt like hours, she held Fleur as the tall mare sobbed into her shoulder. Every so often Rarity would murmur gentle re-assurances as she stroked Fleur's long cotton pink mane. Eventually, and with a hint of dread, Rarity asked, "What did Fancy say?" "He said that he still loves me. Even when I can't give him foals, he said he still loves me. Oh doux, Celestia, what have I done? The things I said! I am a terrible pony, just leaving him like that. I was so hurt, and frightened, and angry." Slowly Fleur shook her head as she shrugged out of Rarity’s hug. "It pains me to ask, but, I could use a place to stay, if you have room, Rarity." "What? Of course! I wouldn't dream of having you stay elsewhere," Rarity said instantly. Getting up, Rarity made her way to a small door that led down into a cellar. Disappearing for a few minutes, Rarity emerged carrying a bottle of wine in her magic. A smile actually managed to find its way onto Fleur's face when Rarity said, "Tea is all well and good, but for news this awful the only answer is a bottle of Grenache; something to wash away the bitterness, wouldn't you agree, darling?" Night came to Ioka, sweeping across the disc like a velvet fog while the ancient turtle swam through the endless void. The single largest creatures ever to exist, the mighty world-turtles were also the oldest, born the instant the first grain of time fell within the endless hourglass. Within the great crucible of the forgotten Far Realm they spawned, born of the boundless energies expelled as worlds and realities were formed and crushed. Ioka was one of the middle-worlds; younger than some, older than many. She had countless siblings, all of them connected by the lingering strands of the first dreams. Her elephants—what the mortal races that lived upon her disc had named the mountainous spurs that grew from Ioka’s shell—were still sharp and jagged. Eight in number, the elephants held the disc like a vice in their grip. Upon the disc, within the heart of Equestria, a cold wind blew across the land, racing down the mountain slopes before billowing along valley floors and gently caressing the tops of the ancient sycamores. All too soon, the wind reached Canterlot, coiling about the peak of Canterhorn, on which the ancient city perched like a mighty crescent wing. Down the cobblestone streets it danced and caroused, bouncing between the buildings surrounding the palace of the Sun and Moon, slipping through open windows to nip at ponies nestled snuggly in their beds before flowing back into the night. Unicorns awoke, eyes blearily blinking from dull aches reaching down through their horns into the base of their skulls. Shuddering against the sudden chill, most curled deeper beneath covers, some staggering to their hooves to snap windows shut. Meanwhile, Pegasus wings twitched and spread, their owners smiling in their dreams, feeling surges of bliss and unaffected by a little nip in the air. In her chambers in the palace, Princess Celestia raised her head from the lush gold and scarlet sheets of her bed. High above, Luna's moon swam through a sea of twinkling stars. Frowning, Celestia slowly got out of bed and went out onto her balcony. Lifting her nose she carefully tested the wind. The scent of licorice and rainbows filled the air, almost stinging her senses with their combined strength. "Tia, you feel it as well?" came Luna’s strong, sinuous voice. "Of course. I suspect half the unicorns can as well," Celestia said as her sister joined her on the balcony. When Luna was beside her, never taking her eyes from the night sky, Celestia said, "It has been ages since I’ve felt this magic. But it can’t be her…" Arching an eyebrow at her sister's comment, Luna cleared her throat before asking, "You have felt this magic before?" Giving her sister a sly smile, one Luna had come to associate with secrets, Celestia slowly shook her head. Knowing better than to attempt to pry the information from her sister—that would just result in bad feelings and no answers—Luna continued. "A magic old as time and the stars themselves, but it is not mine," Luna said. Tapping a hoof to her chin, Luna asked what had to be on both their minds. "You don't think Twilight is doing this, do you? It wouldn't be the first time she accidently used her powers." "No, this is definitely not being caused by her. Not this time at least," Celestia added with a slight shake of her head. The wind started to fade away, only to be pulled into the sky above ancient city where it began to spin and coalesce. From the heart of the gathering tempest came a sound like the crack of a whip. Seven flashes pierced the night, each cutting off a portion of the wind. Clouds of magical smoke were spat down from the twinkling night. But they were only the heralds. The sisters looked at each other, concern clear on their faces. A deep rumble like thunder and drums echoed across the night, followed by three stars tumbling from the tempest. Luna opened her mouth in shock as a trio of bright lines traced across the velvet canvas of the night in streaks of pink, blue, and silver. The falling stars dipped down towards the horizon in the west, south-east, and north-east, respectively. There followed a brief golden flash before velvet darkness wrapped the sky in an inky embrace, only to be broken again for an instant as the westerly-headed star landed. With the golden flash of light came a second wave of magic, though unlike the one that had been carried by the wind. Celestia and Luna's eyes both flew wide, instantly recognising this second wave of magic. "It can not be," Luna whispered, raising a hoof to her lips shocked by the sound of fear in her own voice. Wings spread, Luna looked over to her sister, "Tia, are those three 'stars' what I fear?" Celestia's answer was silence as her ancient mind began quickly turning over the sudden information. "The closest landed somewhere near Ponyville," Celestia said, craning her neck to look towards where the stars had landed, ignoring Luna's question. It was a foalish one. Both knew exactly what those stars were. "We will need to begin preparations. I just hope they are friendly." "That feeling we just had on the wind, it may be related," Luna said stepping back inside Celestia's chambers, following in her older sister’s hoofsteps. "I would be amazed if it wasn't," Celestia agreed reaching for a quill and her parchment. Looking over her shoulder to the night sky, Luna shuddered, worry twisting at her insides, wondering what other portents the night held. "What about Twilight and her birthday tomorrow? Should we change our plans?" Quill dipped in her inkwell, Celestia considered the question for a long moment. It was an age longer than she needed, Luna knew, which meant her older sister was being extra careful. No doubt she was beginning to move the pieces about in her head, ideas starting to fold into plans. "No," she finally said, much to Luna's relief. "She is going to be confused, scared, and hurt enough as it is. We can't add this to her worries. For now we'll continue as we planned. Just keep your eyes and ears open while you're in Ponyville, sister. One of them landed near the town and I wouldn't be surprised if they make an appearance. The timing can't be a coincidence." "Unless it is." Luna smiled mischievously. "But I'll keep my eyes open. Should I bring the Elements with me, just in case?" Tapping her chin, Celestia shook her head. "I don't think we're at that point yet. But, be careful." Still smiling, Luna made her way towards the door. As she slipped out of the room, Celestia was left with only the frantic scratching of her quill as she prepared to move the ponies needed to respond to the potential threats. Eyes opening wide, Fleur shot up and out of her bed, covers twisted around her legs. Crashing onto her back, Fleur laid on the floor, panting and gasping. On her lips she could feel a cool, tingling after-sensation left by... something. Fleur pinched her eyebrows together as she fought to remember what had awoken her. There had been a dream, no, it was more like a nightmare, but it fled her memories like water through a wire mesh. There had been... something terrible. A fight, perhaps? Fleur's throat felt a little raw, like she had been screaming in her sleep. "Fleur, are you alright, darling?" came the groggy voice of Rarity through the door. Fleur slowly extracted herself from her sheets, unsure of exactly what had happened. "Oui, everything is alright, I just had a bad dream. Go back to sleep," Fleur replied. "You were screaming." Rarity’s voice hesitated, edging between concern and curiosity. “Are you certain everything is okay?” Opening the door Fleur nodded, adding a reassuring smile for good measure. She was very good at giving reassuring smiles. Fleur felt confident in the quality of smile she was giving, despite the quivering of her heart and hooves. A shaking that grew every second Fleur looked at the other mare. Rarity stood in the small second-floor landing between her room and the guest room, sleeping mask perched above her horn. A wave of confusion rolled over Fleur as she looked her friend over. There was something different about Rarity. It was like an image in the corner of her eye, but when she turned to get a better look it would vanish. A name danced on the tip of her tongue, yet refused to be spoken. It was almost enough to crack the practiced smile she wore. Head tilted to one side, Rarity was giving Fleur an odd look, like she was trying to figure out a difficult problem. After a moment, Rarity nodded once. Turning back to her room, she slowly said, "Well, if there's any help I can give, or if you want to talk..." Rarity gave Fleur a shaky smile of her own before closing the door to her room. Not wanting to go back to sleep herself, Fleur quietly left the bedroom and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Maybe some tea would stop the shaking in her hooves, she thought. Her heart was still hammering in her chest from the dream. The sun was starting to peek above the horizon and, hopefully, it'd be a while before Rarity woke back up. Being as quiet as she could, Fleur entered the kitchen, her mind still turning over the confusion on the landing. Was it just the lingering effects of her dream? Whatever it had been, it had certainly upended Fleur's normally ordered and practical thoughts. She had heard of other ponies whose dreams could cause such unease, but had never experienced it herself. As a unicorn, Fleur had never experienced the sensation herself. Normally, her dream was pleasant and sweet, leaving a pleasant glow in its wake. Reaching into the cupboard for a teapot, Fleur was startled from her reverie by the sound of china shattering. Looking up, she saw that she had crushed the teapot in her telekinesis. Cursing at herself, Fleur set the shards down in a waste-bin. It had been years since she'd been careless enough to damage anything with her magic. Again she reached for a teapot, and again it was shattered. Now, Fleur knew something was wrong. Though she had never been noticed for her proficiency with magic, she was hardly incapable either. She could comfortably call her skill above average, good enough that control was not something she often had to think about. She certainly didn’t have the power of the great unicorns; Star Swirl the Bearded, Marelin the Great, Clover the Clever, or Twilight Sparkle. As she thought of Twilight Sparkle, a warm fuzzy feeling began to bloom in Fleur just behind her breastbone. Bringing the image of the countess to the forefront of her thoughts made the warmth grow until a goofy smile found its way onto her lips. After several seconds sitting in Rarity's kitchen with the odd grin, Fleur shook it off, her confusion growing. She barely knew the countess. They had only met once, very briefly, at a small state dinner years ago when Twilight had only been the princess' student. The bookish young mare, still in her mid-teens, had fumbled her words when she tried to talk to any of the nobles and had left as soon as Celestia so much as hinted that it'd be alright for her to return to her studies. Wondering what was causing the feeling, Fleur growled to herself as she reached for a third teapot, this time with her hooves. Thank Celestia that Rarity had nearly half a dozen tea-pots, Fleur thought wryly. Placing the pot of tea on the stove, and getting a scone with a dollop of jam, Fleur took a moment to try to sort out the mesh of thoughts and feelings buzzing about her skull. She wished she could remember the dream. It had to be the cause of all the confusing thoughts and images. But it was gone, same as the teapots in the waste bin. There was something else to the dream as well, Fleur realised. She was beginning to pace back and forth in front of the stove. Pacing was something she very rarely did, and only when there was something very pressing. The last time she had paced was the previous morning in the doctor's office. Immediately Fleur stopped, and her hoof smacked into her forehead, gently. She was over-analyzing things. The dream had been twisted by the wine mixed with her own tumultuous emotions. Satisfied with her conclusions, Fleur quickly drank her tea and then returned to bed. When she got up she was going to have to figure out what to say to Fancy Pants when she returned home. Wondering how a pony as terrible as her had ever married a pony as nice as Fancy Pants, Fleur crawled back into bed and quickly fell back to sleep. Almost as soon as her breathing settled, she began to toss and turn, moaning a single word. Ares. Far to the north-east, across the river from the sprawling metropolis and towers of Manehattan, a lone figure pulled her wagon away from the glittering city. Bags of bits jangled happily within the wagon she pulled, creating a wide smile on her face. It had been a good few months in the City that Never Sleeps, putting on show after sold-out show, but Trixie had begun to grow bored. It was time for a change of scenery. Maybe the glittering lights of Los Pegasus would allow her to bedazzle new crowds with her magnificence. Or perhaps the wide theaters and stages of Vanhoover would give her the exposure she craved. Though it'd be hard to top all the playhouses and the ravenous hunger Manehattanite ponies had for real entertainment. She could scarcely believe that it had been only a couple years since she'd hit rock bottom. A laughing-stock through most of Equestria. No home, no wagon, no bits, no hope. That had been the toughest fall and winter of her life. Many times she'd considered returning to her family in Baltimare on the long and cold nights. But she'd done it, Trixie had fought her way back to the top and was shining higher and brighter than ever. The Great and Powerful Trixie indeed! The blue unicorn was so lost in her happy thoughts and plans, ideas for new shows swimming through her mind as she breathed in the wonderful floral scents of spring, that she failed to notice the deep rumble echoing through the night. Stones around her hooves began to bounce and skip, making Trixie stop and stare at the jittering road. With her brow pinched, she cast a wary look around. The moon was high over head, as were a few scattered clouds the pegasi had left to drift over the rural lands abutting the great city. Acting like imperfect mirrors, the clouds added to the moon's glow, making the night seem less close and threatening. It wasn't a stampede of buffalo, which Trixie chided herself for even considering. Or a stampede of ponies, which it very well could have been. There was no sign of what was causing the growing tremors. Off to Trixie's left was a line of trees, and in the distance the lights of a farm-house twinkled , but otherwise she was totally alone. Chewing a little on her lower lip, the show pony lit her horn as her thoughts turned towards more and more implausible causes of the noise. Normally, Trixie enjoyed traveling at night. Equestria's roads were the safest in all the known lands, and with Luna's moon always shining so brightly, it wasn't too hard to see. Yet, as more and more frenzied worries began to assault her, each more exotic and fantastic than the last, Trixie began to regret her decision to travel at night. Just as her fears and worries reached a fevered pitch that almost made Trixie consider abandoning her wagon and racing back to the relative safety of Manehattan, an almighty crash resounded behind her. Trixie twisted her body, but the cart’s reins held her back. preventing her from seeing the cause of the crash, only to for a silvery ball of fire to bounce over her head, little droplets of burning debris trailing after it, like rain droplets falling from branches of a tree. Mouth falling open, Trixie's eyes trailed the object as it crashed for a second time, landing just beyond the road in a wide ditch. For a long moment, Trixie didn't know what to do, just standing, frozen at the front of her wagon. Her mind finally snapped back into action when she registered the scent of burning wood. Head whipping back towards her wagon, the showmare let out an oath followed by a frantic yelp. With a wave of her horn, Trixie undid the latches holding her to the cart. Rushing forward, she quickly channeled a simple water summoning spell. Nothing fancy like she'd use in her shows, no, this was just a simple ball of water she dumped on top of the smoldering flames clinging to the roof of her most valued possession. Breathing heavily as her heart hammered somewhere in the vicinity of her throat, Trixie took a few extra minutes to make sure her wagon was safe. Satisfied with her quick—though somewhat sloppy—spell-work, she turned her attention to whatever it had been that almost destroyed her home. Lighting up her horn, Trixie very carefully approached the embankment. Her eyes grew wide as saucers as they settled on the 'object'. Laying in the ditch, small flickering flames surrounding her diminutive form, was a young filly. In the light cast by Trixie's horn, the show-mare saw the filly's coat was a silver colour, while her mane and tail were like shimmering sheets of obsidian, a streak of pure white cutting through the middle like a moonbeam across the night. Groaning, the filly sat up, raising a hoof to rub at the side of her head just below a short horn while small wings flitted in agitation at her side. Trixie blinked, then blinked again, rubbing her eyes in disbelief at what she was seeing. The filly muttered and groaned as she stood, just to fall immediately on her side with a gentle 'whump', her wing beating and flapping weakly. Trixie, though she was ashamed to admit it, was confused and unsure what she should do. To say she wasn't the kindest or most altruistic pony around would have been an understatement. If anything she was one of the most self-centered and arrogant ponies that could be encountered. But she wasn't heartless, and only a total monster would abandon a filly in the middle of the night on a cold and desolate road. On top of that, the filly was clearly an alicorn, a race of which there were currently only a hoofful of known members. Unless one had been de-aged and changed their colours, the filly was clearly a new alicorn. The implications, and possibilities, were not lost on Trixie. Nor had the fact that the filly didn't seem to notice the light being cast by Trixie's horn. Shuffling her hooves, Trixie looked longingly back towards her wagon. Maybe she should just move along and act like she'd never encountered the alicorn filly. Celestia or Luna would no doubt be sending the royal guard to investigate, if not come themselves. Trixie had heard of the princesses' connections to that backwater bumpkin town of Ponyville, and given the events when she'd visited the town, Trixie was certain the princesses wouldn't look on her favourably. That upstart Twilight Sparkle—who, frustratingly, was the special, hoof-picked protégé of the princess—would have told her teacher lies about Trixie, and how she had lured that accursed Ursa Minor to the town. Yes, leaving was probably the best idea. But that small inherent goodness kept nagging at her. Plus, there were the benefits of being the caregiver for a living goddess. Before a thin smile could form at the idea, the filly's head snapped towards Trixie. "Who's out there? Show yourself or I'll... uh... blast you! Or something," the filly leveled her horn towards Trixie, eyes narrowed and posture lowering into a fighting stance. "No need for that, little one!" Trixie trilled, cringing at her own words. 'Little one'? What was she thinking? The filly's threat to 'blast her' could have been very real, unless, like a unicorn filly, her magic was haphazard at best until she got older. Not willing to risk the chance of being blasted by even a juvenile alicorn, Trixie waited. Canting her head to one side then the other, the alicorn narrowed startling blue eyes, and then looked away. Holding her breath, Trixie slid down the embankment and into the ditch. She was surprised at how large the alicorn filly was, for her build seemed to indicate an age of six or seven springs, but her size was easily as large a filly half again as old. Then again, the filly was an alicorn. All alicorns were tall and imposing. Using a smile to hide her nerves, like she was doing a show for an important noble, Trixie approached the filly. When she reached her, the silver alicorn slumped over, leaning against the unicorn. "That's good... I'd hate to have to blast you," the filly yawned, her eyes fluttering shut and her breaths slowing. Gently, Trixie lifted the alicorn and carried her to the back door of the wagon. With a swish of her horn, the wagon opened. The interior was painted in warm yellows and reds with folds of green and ethereal blue silk hung like drapes throughout. One side was covered in drawers and cupboards, while the other was left bare. Overhead was a latch, that when pulled, converted the wagon into a stage. As she was depositing the child on the sole bed within the wagon, the filly's eyes fluttered open again. "Thank you," she murmured as she clutched at the bed's blankets. Repeating the words several more times, the filly drifted off into a deeper slumber. Trixie had to shake her head as she snapped the door closed and started to re-attach the reins. Smiling and thinking about the new possibilities open to her, Trixie began to pull the wagon again, the gentle roll and crunch of the wheels on the road lulling her new passenger to sleep.