Annie and Polly sat side by side on Polly’s bed, staring at the screen of Polly’s laptop. Cute pastel ponies danced across it.
“Through thick and thin, no matter the weather,” the ponies sang, “Pony Princesses, friends forever!”
“Annie, this show is kind of . . .” Polly trailed off.
“It sucks,” Annie admitted. “I’m sorry, Sis. I didn’t know.”
This was the first time Annie had watched the show her dolls were based on. All the doll descriptions made it sound like the Pony Kingdom was a happy, peaceful place, and since she wanted Equestria to be a happy, peaceful place, she’d thought it might be good to learn more about it. She just hadn’t expected it to be so boring.
This episode was about a birthday party. The conflict had something to do with attempts to make charm bracelets that turned out to be too big. There wasn’t a villain, nothing really happened, and all the characters wound up happy in the end.
“We can’t use this,” Annie said. “If we made Equestria like the Pony Kingdom, the ponies wouldn’t be happy. They’d be bored without adventures.”
“Do you want to watch something else?” Polly asked. “That show about bouncing bears has adventures, right? Maybe we could learn something from it.”
“You can keep looking if you want,” Annie told her. “I’ll go back into the snow globe and check on the ponies.”
“Just be caref--”
“I know. You worry too much, Sis. But if something big happens, I promise I’ll come get you.”
Halfway out the door, Annie turned back to look at Polly. “Sis? Thanks for watching that with me.”
“You’re welcome,” Polly said. “Just don’t ever make me watch it again. Please.”
-- -- -- --
Over generations, the legends grew.
Once there was a guard contingent in the town of Hollow Shades, tasked with protecting it from the monsters that lived in the nearby woods. Most of the guards would only patrol by day, frightened to remain in the woods after sundown. Only two pegasi would search the woods at night, keeping a safe watch over late-night travelers.
One night, they found a lost merchant, his leg broken in a rabbit hole, begging and sobbing while something paced closer. The younger of the guards rushed forward, striking out at a vague figure in the darkness. The figure struck back, throwing him backwards in a half-conscious heap. The older guard readied her blade and prepared to fight alone.
The monster and the merchant froze in place, and an earth pony maiden appeared from the darkness. The younger guard stood, his wounds suddenly healed, and he and the older guard stared at this newcomer.
“I can give you a gift,” she told them. “New eyes, new ears, new wings . . . Everything you need to fight this monster. Will you take it?”
The younger guard was unafraid. “I will. We can’t fight this thing without it.”
The older guard looked back and forth between the merchant and the maiden. “I fear a trick,” she said. “But it’s my duty to take risks. If it will save this stallion, I accept.”
The maiden smiled, and her teeth lengthened into fangs. Her eyes became slitted, like a cat’s. Her ears grew long and tufted, and leathery wings sprouted from her back. Every change to her body was echoed on the guards.
She laughed as they shrank back from her, but it was a gentle laugh, not a villainous one. “I’m sorry for scaring you. This isn’t a curse, I promise, and it really will help you.”
She vanished, and time restarted. The guards’ new eyes could see the outline of a manticore in the darkness, and their new ears could hear every twig that cracked under its paws. The older guard distracted it, ducking and diving in tight circles around it, her new wings allowing her to turn faster and maneuver better. The younger guard sank his fangs into its neck, and it silently collapsed, out cold.
“A-are you m-monsters?” the merchant stammered. “P-please don’t eat me!”
A tittering giggle sounded from the darkness. “They’re the Night Guard. They’ll protect the night from the monsters that stalk it. So sayeth Annie!”
And so Annie the Just became known as the goddess of the night, the righteous protector who guarded ponies from evil. From this and other miracles, her fame grew, and across the land, temples were founded in her name.
-- -- -- --
Polly stared down at her cell phone with a mounting sense of dread. Reluctantly, she flicked it on and checked her messages.
A text message from two hours ago: “lol you gotta see this samantha and hayley are kissing!” A photo accompanied it. Polly didn’t look at it.
A text message from an hour ago: “Samantha kissed Hayley. WTF.”
A text message from thirty minutes ago: “Need to talk NOW.”
Polly checked the sender on that last one. It came from her friend Hayley.
Polly couldn’t bring herself to care about the gossip. She suspected it wasn’t healthy to distance herself from her friends like this, but there was a lot more at stake here than her own sanity. Every moment she spent here was a moment she wasn’t in Equestria. A moment she wasn’t helping ponies.
But even if it didn’t matter to Polly anymore, she knew someone it did matter to. So she dialed a familiar number and waited for her friend to pick up. “Hey Hayley,” she said. “I heard about Samantha. I . . . kind of figured there was something between you two, to be honest. Are you okay?”
“She likes me,” Hayley said. “She actually likes me. But she’s so much prettier than I am, and she’s so much more popular. When I was dating Katie, people threw frigging rocks at her. Samantha shouldn’t have to . . . I’m rambling. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Polly told her. “You have the right to ramble right now.”
Polly wasn’t a goddess here. She couldn’t solve everyone’s problems. But that didn’t mean there was nothing she could do to help.
-- -- -- --
Once there was a griffoness by the name of Brunhild, a courier from the east, who fell in love with an earth pony innkeeper known as Hearth Flame. They settled in a town near White Tail Woods that no longer exists today. She delivered packages to the neighboring towns, and he waited patiently for her each time she left.
In time, they decided their little family needed an addition. But in those days, the races were separate, and no unicorn magic nor zebra medicine would let a pony and a griffoness have children. So they adopted an orphaned unicorn, raising her as their own, and they grew to love her like she was their own flesh and blood.
When their foal was still young, scarcely out of diapers, a travelling pegasus came to the inn. She seemed intrigued by the strange couple, though by no means impolite, and she struck up a conversation with them.
“Do you still want to have a child by blood?” the pegasus asked. “I may know of a way.”
“I don’t know,” Hearth said. “I guess it would be nice, but it’s not like I’m unhappy. Smoky’s a fine daughter, and we’re blessed to have her.”
He looked over to his wife. “How about you, honey? Would you like another set of hooves around here--or paws and claws?”
“Stranger, how certain are you of what you’re talking about?”Brunhild asked.
“Um, ninety percent, maybe?” the pegasus said. “It should work. I don’t see why it wouldn’t.”
“There are fewer and fewer griffons every year,” Brunhild said. “Someday, there might not be any of us left at alI. I don’t regret getting married, but I can’t help but feel guilty for not having a chick to carry on my bloodline. If you know a way for us to . . .” She trailed off. “Please, tell me.”
“I need to ask you both for a promise first,” the pegasus said. “Um, two promises, I mean. Smoky needs two parents who love her. Don’t drift away from her to favor your chick. And don’t favor Smoky, either. Can you promise to love and cherish them both?”
“Of course I can!” Brunhild said, umbrage in her voice.
“I promise, too,” Hearth said. “So what do we need to do?”
“It’s already done,” the pegasus said. “I’ve blessed you both. Remember your promises, or I’ll have to come back.”
Before their eyes, she turned translucent and faded.
Not long passed before Brunhild laid an egg. The chick that hatched from it looked much like her mother, but her eyes were just like her father’s. In a few short years, little Gudrun wasn’t so little anymore, and she was ready to start accompanying Brunhild on courier runs.
Perhaps it was inevitable that Gudrun grew distant from Hearth. She spent far too long learning the courier trade with Brunhild, and not enough time back home at the inn. And Hearth, too, grew distant from both Gudrun and Brunhild, slowly coming to resent being left at home while they traveled. In place of them, he bonded to Smoky, learning as much as any earth pony could about unicorn magic, doing his best to teach her how to use her powers.
Gudrun grew lonely on the road, however, and most of the time she spent at home was spent with Smoky. Smoky tired at times of her little sister’s attention, but overall, having a big strong griffon for a sister had its advantages. Once Gudrun was large enough to carry Smoky on her back, she spent many a day “strength training” with her sister for a weight, while the foal hung on tight and shrieked with joy at the rush of wind on her face. For her part, Smoky took to studying the magic of wind and air, applying unicorn powers to the domain usually reserved for pegasi. It surprised no one that her cutie mark turned out to be a drifting cloud.
One day, when Gudrun and Smoky were out playing, Hearth and Brunhild had an argument. It began in the usual manner--Hearth asked Brunhild to consider another job, one that would keep her closer to home, and Brunhild rejected the idea. They cycled through all their usual complaints, each trying to hurt the other as much as possible with their words, until Hearth said something he’d never dared to say before.
“I wish we’d never had Gudrun!”
“You two are horrible!” a familiar voice said.
The door hadn’t opened, and the windows were shut--so how had this mysterious pegasus come in? But given what she’d done before . . . “Please, Annie, have mercy!” Brunhild begged. “Don’t hurt the little ones!”
The pegasus grimaced. “WHAT? Of course I’m not gonna hurt them! They’ve done nothing wrong!” At Hearth’s look of terror, she added, “And I won’t hurt you two either! Your kids need you! Both of you!”
A brief, pregnant pause.
“And I’m not Annie!” the pegasus added. “My name is Polly!”
“We broke our promise,” Hearth admitted. “What happens now?”
“I’m not here to punish you,” Polly said. “But you both loved the kid who looks like you, and neglected the kid who doesn’t. You need to learn to be more fair. So . . .”
Smoky fainted dead away when she came back to the inn, and Gudrun grew quite unsteady on her feet. Their mother had become an earth pony, and their father was a griffon.
Perhaps the story could have ended there, but that wasn’t how Polly did things. For a year, she watched invisibly as they put their lives back together. Unable to travel as fast or as far, Brunhild put her strength to use as a farmhand, and she grew to like the feel of soil beneath her hooves. Hearth tended the inn as he always did, but on days when business was slow, he took time off and flew with his daughters, learning to love the air as they did. All four slept under the same roof each night, and slowly, the family began to knit itself back together.
At year’s end, Polly appeared to them again--all of them, this time. She came just after the evening meal, while everyone was chatting happily. “Did they tell you about me?” she asked the children.
“You said you would teach Mom and Dad a lesson,” Smoky said, “and then . . .” She smirked. “They kind of deserved it.”
“Smoky!” Brunhild chided.
“So what do you think?” Polly asked. “Have they learned anything yet?”
Gudrun touched a claw to her chin, pondering the question. “They’re nicer,” she said. “I think you can change them back now.”
Polly grinned. “That’s one question down. Now for you two. Brunhild, do you want to change back?”
“Well, being a pony isn’t so bad,” Brunhild said. “But I still feel like I belong in the clouds. I’d like to fly again.”
A brief flash. “Done,” Polly said. “How about you, Hearth?”
“Thanks, but no,” Hearth said. “I may be an earth pony at heart, but if my wife and daughters are up in the sky, that’s where I should be, too.”
For the first time since they’d met her, Polly’s smile actually seemed happy. “That’s pretty wise,” she said. “From now on, you two will be griffons.”
And so Polly the Wise became the goddess of the day, guardian of hearth and home. Couples who had trouble conceiving prayed to her, and while she didn’t grant every prayer, the races of Equestria became far more entwined than they once had been. In her name, too, temples were erected, though they were seldom as large or as lavish as Annie’s.