Sleipnir's Big Adventure

by BlackRoseRaven


We All Redeemed

Chapter Thirty One: We All Redeemed
~BlackRoseRaven

Blueblood loved his father. No matter what had happened in the past, no matter how much had been the influence of the Harbinger, and how much had been because Lang, like all ponies, had some shadow in his heart, Blueblood still loved his father.
But it was hard to... accept, and understand, in some ways: no matter what had happened, Lang had still killed his mother, and nearly killed him. Lang brought back bad memories, and sometimes just being around him made the younger stallion feel uncomfortable... but in spite of all these things, for some reason, Blue just couldn't... stop caring about him. Couldn't turn away from this old, dying stallion who was doing his best to make up for what he'd done, who was trying so hard to be a friend and a father to him.
As the days passed, however, it began to get easier: even though the Harbinger was gone, the nightmares had come back briefly after meeting his father... but those were fading away, too, graying and becoming weaker. And more than that, now that he was hesitantly looking into the past, all these doors had opened in his mind and let in thoughts of better times that he'd thought he'd lost forever. Looking at his mother's portrait helped him remember more than just her face: he remembered the soothing smell of her perfume, and her laughter, and how she had always, always loved him...
At first, Blue didn't want to be alone with Lang at all: but gradually, he began to grow comfortable enough to spend an hour or so at first with him in the bar without Sleipnir... and after a few weeks, to visit the old unicorn's home and even stay the night while Sleipnir worked the forge or did odd jobs in town. Sure, part of it was because Lang was so weak that Blue couldn't even imagine how he managed to totter around his job at the cemetery, but he honestly had started to feel... safer with Lang. Maybe there would always be some lingering worries, a bit of paranoia or fear, but... Lang was his father. And he believed the old stallion when he said that he'd never hurt him.
Both of them were doing their best to make up for lost time, and for the past: Blueblood didn't know why, but he felt... guilty about how much Lang was hurting over what had happened. It didn't seem fair to him when he felt that the Harbinger had been the one pulling the strings all along, causing all those emotions, those... vile needs to surface in Restless Languish.
But Lang refused to believe that it was all the fault of some evil force. Blue thought that maybe Lang didn't even believe the golden-eyed mare had really been a demon, that he had been the victim of tampering by some wicked entity: the old stallion always said that he was responsible. And Blueblood was both frustrated by this and yet... he admired it, too. Lang always took responsibility when something happened or went wrong: there were never excuses, never even reasons; even when something happened that no reasonable pony would take the fall for, Lang would apologize for it in his quiet, dignified way, and then... fix the problem.
One example was the way that Lang always took responsibility for whenever the tombstones were vandalized, or the idiot kids threw a party in the cemetery. There was no real way to stop them from doing it, after all: there were no gates and a waist-high fence, and the cemetery was sprawling and had no place for the groundskeeper to actually sit and rest. Which meant that on the few times that Lang had been forced to stay overnight, he'd had to just sit outside in the dark by himself, or use one of the empty mausoleums to get out of the cold tundra nights.
And yet Lang had stayed out there somehow for a week just to try and talk the kids off the property... which just resulted in him getting beaten up by a bunch of dumb young punks with nowhere to go. Blueblood had been incensed, and twice as angry when he'd found out that the sheriff hadn't done a thing about it because... well, because the sheriff didn't really do anything about anything. He wrote tickets, dragged ponies to the doddering little courthouse, and drank and looked miserable on the front porch of the dinky little sheriff's office and... that was it.
So Blueblood and Sleipnir had gone out to the cemetery one night, and hidden amongst the graves. And sure, it had been uncomfortable and Blue had felt old, stupid fears prickling along the back of his neck, but he was doing this for his father... and well, because entitled little snots pissed him off.
The dumb young punks had sauntered along and started their dumb little party... before it was interrupted by the two large stallions walking into their midst. Sleipnir smiled, benevolent as always, and Blueblood just glared around at them and asked what the hell they thought they were doing.
The one in charge had been the largest and dumbest of them all, and apparently thought he could get away with anything from the way he shoved himself right up into Blueblood's face. A fight had almost broken out... until all eyes had been drawn to the sight of Sleipnir drinking the entire keg of beer like it was just a can of booze, before he had belched and then simply tossed it away, complaining about 'foul tasting water.'
And then the enormous earth pony had not only scolded and shamed the half-drunk and half-stupid ponies into leaving, he had also gotten Blueblood to show much more mercy than he'd actually wanted to. But he'd pointed out that if Blue punched any of them out just because he didn't like them, he would just be abusing his power, just like he had in the old days. Sure, the method would be different, but whether it was his hooves or the Royal Guards', he was still taking advantage of his superior strength, and someone else's vulnerability.
So as much as Blueblood had wanted to clean the big dumb punk's clock, they had instead left him alone and headed back into town. It left Blue feeling a little... strange, though. A mix of guilty and frustrated and maybe even a little confused: the punks has been the ones in the wrong after all, right? So why was Sleipnir warning him that they could become the bad guys if the situation escalated any further?
Except Blue did understand and know. You weren't automatically the 'good guys' just because you went out and fought monsters and tried your hardest to help the other townsponies. That was a hard lesson he had learned, but true all the same: so much was uncertain. So much was nothing but listless gray, shades between right and wrong, good and evil... and so often, it was trying to do good that led to such awful things happening in the world. It was fighting too long, against too many monsters, that turned champions into killers.
Of course, that didn't stop Blueblood from being thankful when they had another little run in with the dumb jerk a few days later. He was threatening some other poor kid, and hadn't even noticed them approaching... but then again, Blue was rather proud of the fact that he could move almost as quietly as the giant earth pony.
Before Blue could do anything, however, Sleipnir had simply plucked the punk up by the ruff of his neck, making him wince and flail... and then he had curled up with a weak grin when the giant earth pony had only leaned in and glowered at him.
On the other hoof, it had still been plenty entertaining for the unicorn to watch Sleipnir shake the punk kid back and forth like a doll while berating him. So he had contented himself with that, and decided that once the punk ran away like a scared little puppy, it was a lot closer to justice than he'd really wanted to bring down on the idiot at first.
Maybe that was part of the trade-off of learning everything he had: maybe that was part of why Auntie Celestia had always been so firm that he never learn these arts, and why she was so strict with the Royal Guard and the other forces that protected Equestria. It was so easy to find yourself being twisted, to... take one wrong step and end up somewhere deep and dark, and so completely the opposite of everything you had meant to be...
He had reflected on this, used it to sift through the enormous pile of emotions and thoughts and memories that had built up in his mind. And it had made it much easier to figure out where precisely he stood on the subject of his father, to extend a little more understanding over past mistakes...
Part of him knew that this wasn't Lang's fault in any way. The rest of him, though, just wouldn't let go of what had happened. Couldn't forget, couldn't forgive, just... festered with fear and bad karma and refused to simply let go of the past...
But it eventually started to get easier to ignore that part of him. As the days passed into weeks, Blueblood spent more and more time with Restless Languish, and welcomed him more and more as father, as family, as... everything he'd been missing. As someone he'd needed in his life, a stallion that even Sleipnir couldn't replace.
Sure, it had been awkward at first for them both: every time that Lang mentioned something he needed or something that had happened, Blueblood would take off like a rocket, swearing that he wasn't doing it to try and impress or even help his father but just because they had the time and nothing else to do. In the space of a month, Lang's entire house had almost been rebuilt from the ground up, and they had fixed up an assortment of problems in and around the town... many of them duties and odd jobs that had been assigned to Lang.
But it was good to help him out, and Sleipnir seemed to think it was the right thing to do, too. Then again, Sleipnir was doing his best to help everypony, as he always did everywhere they went: Blue still remembered when that quality had annoyed him, and yet now it was one of the things about the big oaf that he had come to admire most of all.
Every now and then, Blueblood would look at Sleipnir and remember they had a job to finish, still... but Sleipnir would always just encourage him gently to spend a little more time with his father, or smile and remind him that they had no reason to rush off, and to take all the time he needed.
And Blueblood... really didn't want to leave, no matter what he told himself, no matter how much he thought of home and Canterlot and their mission. His father was here and... right now, he needed time with his father.
So he had stayed. He had stayed, every time he'd almost forced himself to leave. And every time, he'd been so glad that he had, in spite of the... well, not quite guilt, not quite regret. It was hard to put into words, really: it was like he had two nations inside of him that were seated at an uneasy truce, and they had to be reminded of their allegiances every now and then... otherwise they might collapse into some kind of civil war.
Maybe that was a bad metaphor, but that was honestly what it felt like a lot of the time: he was in some precarious balance, trying to maintain two different loyalties... and at the same time, he knew he was being selfish. Sure, he wanted to spend time with his father for his father's sake, and he wanted to help Sleipnir... but he also wanted to do things in his own time, and he wanted all the answers he could get for himself and his own mind and his own ego. He wanted to prove...
Prove himself? Prove that he wasn't making a mistake? Prove that he was a good pony by forgiving his father, by showing mercy and honor? He didn't know. He couldn't know, either. It was impossible to put things together with all these thoughts bouncing around in his head...
But no matter what it was, it had compelled him to stay, even though he felt that... maybe he wasn't doing what was entirely the right thing. He honestly didn't know what else to do, though: there was no way that Restless Languish would survive traveling to Canterlot with them –  hell, Blueblood didn't know how Lang even managed the walk to town every day – and Blue... just couldn't leave his father. He felt like that would be a betrayal. And even as they spent months together, he felt time passing so quickly, the hours and days and weeks bleeding away.
Besides, Sleipnir had been able to find a way to occupy himself: after all the work he'd done on the town, the informal ruler of the town, Regal Merlot, had grudgingly agreed to turn over the keys to the old smithy and allow Sleipnir to get it back in working order.
Although Sleipnir had done much more than that: he had made short trips – sometimes with Blue accompanying him, other times on his own while Blue spent time with his father – to gather all kinds of materials from both the tundra and the distant mountains and forests: and what little he couldn't find in nature, he made the journey to the nearest city for and bought with the endless supply of gemstones from his mane and tail.
Within a few months, Sleipnir had essentially built not just a forge, but the entire smithy: all the old had been broken down into raw materials that had been used to create something brand new. And Blueblood had learned enough about the forge to know the moment he had seen it that Sleipnir had built something amazing here.
Blueblood had felt a little guilty about the minimal help he'd been in rebuilding and remodeling the structure, but Sleipnir had just laughed and reassured him, like always. The enormous earth pony was an endless wellspring of happiness and positivity and kindness, always looking out more for other ponies than he ever did for himself, never asking for help and always encouraging him to go and enjoy himself while he worked...
And the forge had only been the start of Sleipnir's work: he had waited barely a single day before he'd begun forging. And Blueblood had been surprised when he'd checked in on the stallion and found that the first thing he'd started to create were actually tools for this forge itself.
Sleipnir had spent days on each tool; the forge tongs took at least two, the hammer three, and all the other shaping and forging implements he'd made varied between a single day's work and almost a week. But that had been amazing to Blue: after all, the stallion would normally create even a complex weapon or a full set of armor within a day, if not hours. For him to spend so long on what looked like relatively simple objects to Blueblood...
But the ivory unicorn had learned to trust in Sleipnir, for better or worse. The enormous earth pony was an idiot when it came to a lot of things, but he had his own weird genius and a natural charm and understanding that seemed to let him get away with just about anything. And by now, Blue understood that Sleipnir really did believe that everything had a spirit, and everything could be communicated with and encouraged and charmed into doing whatever he wanted it to... and he usually got oddly good results from his strange way of interacting with the world.
After finishing his tools, Sleipnir had stayed busy: he seemed to recognize that Blueblood wasn't going to want to leave this town for a long time, wanted to cherish this time with his father, and he had accepted and respected that. He had instead decided to make the most of the time he had now, and started forging the mythril they had acquired: not just into the thin, malleable strips that would be used to form runes and veins through which magic energies would flow and help stabilize the portal, but also new pieces of armor he planned to gift to Blue, when the unicorn was ready for them.
Blue was to this day unaware of the fact that Sleipnir was working on armor for him: Sleipnir had so many projects on the go, after all, and even when Blueblood used the forge himself, he had never suspected that any of the half-finished pieces of mythril armor were for him.
But then again, so much of his attention had been taken up by his father that he had missed even a few larger things: things like how Sleipnir would go quiet now and then, or how the enormous earth pony would vanish every so often without mentioning where he was going; the few times Blue did notice, he had tried to pass it off instead of going to speak to the stallion about it. And the one time he had tried, Sleipnir had laughed, and smiled, and easily shrugged the subject aside, saying not to worry about it, like he always did.
So Blue had done his best not to, even though some nights, he would wonder how Sleipnir was doing, if maybe tomorrow they should leave... but he never did. With each passing day, Blueblood's desire to stay here, to learn about his father, to learn about his past, only growing.
And the more time he spent with Restless Languish, the more interested he'd become in his father, and the more his father had started to actually... open up. To hesitantly start talking more about himself, and about his past with Tender Heart.
What Blueblood had remembered most about his father – apart from the nightmares, that was – was that he had always been so quiet and withdrawn. And Lang was quiet and shy, but he was also a hard worker, and as generous as Sleipnir: Blue found out that many times, he'd refused pay for the odd jobs he did around town, saying that he was just happy to help out and have the work. The ponies here in Rancher's Ridge had been very wary of him at first, understandably... but over the years he'd lived here, it seemed like everypony had come to at least respect his dedication to the town and to living a normal life, if nothing else.
And Lang was smart, far smarter than Blueblood remembered: he was able to speak fluently in three languages, he read science and philosophy books that Blue couldn't crack the first few pages of, and he wrote poetry. Good poetry... at least, according to Sleipnir, who had been extremely impressed. Blueblood thought it was pretty good himself, but he didn't read a lot of poems, while Sleipnir said that he came from a society where good poets and poems were highly valued.
Blueblood had wondered aloud one night why Restless Languish had decided to work as a gravedigger instead of anything else... and the answer had honestly surprised him. Lang had never earned his diploma: he had dropped out of university to get the job at the cemetery, so he could support Tender Heart after she'd become pregnant. Neither he nor Tender Heart had had much in the way of family to help support them... so Lang had taken the best job he could find: work at the cemetery.
This had led to all kinds of questions, and Lang had opened up more as he'd answered them... and Blueblood had been amazed by what he'd learned about his father. That he had actually been studying dream sciences and had been planning on eventually becoming a Dream Weaver: essentially, ponies from all around Equestria who helped create and shape dreams and fantasies for other ponies. While protecting ponies in their dreams was the duty of the Princess of the Night, the Dream Weavers existed to help shoulder some of Luna's burden and to also provide ponies with designer fantasies and interactive stories and adventures.
To be a Dream Weaver, you needed focus, discipline, imagination, and a powerful mind. You also needed to be trained rigorously: Dream Weavers tended to do most of their work during the night, and they spent intense amounts of energy and concentration just to create dreams... let alone all the magic that was required to 'bottle' dreams in gemstones or other charms that the user would wear while they slept, to experience the dream held inside.
There was also the unfortunate fact that Dream Weavers more often suffered from depression, delusion, and many other mental disorders than your average pony did. The job itself required long periods of time spent living in and creating fantasy worlds: many ponies just couldn't handle the strain that put on the mind, and ended up losing themselves. It was as dangerous a profession as it was amazing, in Blueblood's eyes.
Somehow, this had led into talk about the stallion's other hobbies... and Blueblood had been surprised to learn that aside from Dream Weaving, his father had a deep interest in cryptozoology. Blueblood didn't even know what that word had meant, until Restless Languish explained – with a bit of embarrassment – that it was the study of supernatural animals... including the ghosts and echoes of pets and wild beasts, among other fantastical things.
Blueblood had almost scoffed that it was ridiculous... except then he'd thought about everything he'd experienced on his journey. The invisible presence around Horsia, and the echo of the demon that Sleipnir had fought; the countless undead they had battled and defeated and befriended; the Harbinger and Cerulea...
So instead, he'd asked further about it, and how Lang had lit up. And his father had become more enthusiastic and less embarrassed, approaching the subject from a surprisingly-rational standpoint: if the existence of ghosts was tied to emotional resonance and attachments, then wouldn't it just make sense that sometimes the spirits of animals could become tied to certain areas, too? Some species of bird would literally wither away and die if they were taken away from each other, and some pets would stay at their owner's grave, even die there themselves. If that wasn't loyalty and emotion, Lang didn't know what was.
Blueblood hadn't been able to help himself from challenging his father a little at this point: did animals really have emotions, or was it just instinct? But Lang had replied that emotion was instinct: even if you broke it all down to just chemical reactions, ponies were really just powered by the same thing. How could you not apply what you did to ponies to animals, when the building blocks that made up them both were all so similar at the end of the day?
The only real difference, Lang felt, was that animals were much better at acknowledging the cycle of life and death than ponies were. Maybe in that case, their 'lack' of higher thinking processes was actually a plus: it let them accept things more readily. But Lang believed some things overwhelmed even the basest of instincts, things like anger, and loyalty, and... love.
Lang had gone quiet for a little while after this, and soon enough, retired to bed. Blueblood had stayed up a little while longer, amazed by everything he'd learned about his father... and so sad for him, too. For this wonderful stallion who kept blaming himself over something that had been so far out of his control, for... what Blueblood had finally convinced himself, after more than half a year here, wasn't at all the fault of Restless Languish, but the Harbinger.
With that decision and that acceptance, it made it so much easier for Blueblood to finally... start talking to his father. And he had decided to start with what was easiest right now to think of: his journey with Sleipnir, which had started so long ago now, and everything he'd learned.
He spent weeks, talking about his adventure. And sometimes Sleipnir would join him and help him tell these stories, and other times he'd tell the story by himself, often running off on tangents, going out of order, forgetting something here and remembering something there... but Lang never minded. Lang had never told him to slow down, or stop, or that he wasn't interested. His father had listened to every last word, and Blueblood could see in his eyes that he was memorizing every last detail and assembling it all together in his mind.
Even after Blueblood had finally finished the story, Lang often wanted to hear his son's tales all over again, or had questions that would lead into long conversations about spirits and the philosophy of good and evil and anything and everything in between.
Blue only came to admire his father more as time went on, and grew closer to him. And when he wasn't with his father, he was with Sleipnir, training, helping him in the chores and odd jobs he'd taken around town, or just spending time with his... his big brother, really. Because that was what Sleipnir really was to him these days: family.
He had almost forgotten that one day, he'd have to go home, to Canterlot: but Canterlot didn't really feel like home anymore, even if Blueblood loved his Auntie Celestia dearly, and the thought of seeing her again always made him smile. But Auntie Celestia and Auntie Luna were eternal and ageless: his father, on the other hoof...
As the one-year anniversary of when they'd come to town had rolled around, Restless Languish had fallen ill. Still, he hadn't said anything, and he'd gently refused when Blueblood had offered to go into town for him and get him some medicine from the pharmacy. And then Lang had changed the subject and asked if Blueblood had thought about going home.
Blue had... but he wanted to stay here. But Lang had smiled at him, and had said quietly, words etched in Blueblood's mind even now... “You and Sleipnir gave up a year of your lives for me. You gave me back my entire world. I never deserved a son like you, Blue, and I still don't, and.. the best thing I can do for you, maybe, is tell you that you can go home. You should go home.”
Home... but was Canterlot home, anymore? Still, Blueblood had realized... just how much time it had been. And that Sleipnir had waited this whole time for him to be ready...
He'd spent the day thinking, wandering in and out of town to help with odd jobs here and there, greeting the citizens who had come to know him as well as any other pony in this little, now almost-pleasant village. Everyone had gotten so warm and friendly, and Blueblood thought that was probably Sleipnir's fault. It was hard to be sad around Sleipnir, after all, and the big lummox was always wandering around, helping out every pony he came across...
Maybe it was time for Blueblood to help out Sleipnir. His loyal brother, his best friend... and Blue had decided to head back to the cottage and find his father.
But on the road outside of the village, he had found his father laying on the road in a pile of crushed cupcakes, with crimson icing that had smeared across his body like blood, gasping for air and pawing sightlessly at the air. And for a moment, Blue had only stood helpless, staring with horror down at this awful, ominous sight, before he'd yelled for help and then picked up his father – So weak! So thin! So fragile! – and spun around to run back into town.
A week passed: a week that Blueblood spent most of his time in the sad excuse for a medical clinic, where his father was housed in the one piddling care unit they had, trying to regain his strength. But he never would..
When he became stable enough, Blueblood carefully, gently took his father back home. Lang was stuck in a wheelchair now, with only one working eye and one working foreleg. He had suffered some kind of stroke or brain aneurysm or... something. Blue didn't know, didn't remember; all he knew was that his father was stuck in this wheelchair, half-blind, unable to take care of himself, and yet there was still so much life – and sadness, and fear, and pain – in his single working eye...
Blueblood hadn't been able to leave. Not with his father like this. He wouldn't abandon this parent that he'd found too late in life, and lost too fast. He wouldn't leave his father to die alone and miserable in this forlorn house, stuck in diapers and a wheelchair. He was scared, and he hurt, and it was hard just to look at the poor, broken stallion... and yet at the same time, Blueblood had never been more determined to do the right thing than he was now.
Sleipnir had helped him, done more than Blueblood could have ever hoped for him to without needing to be asked. He fixed the damaged doors, ensuring they would stay securely latched when shut, but would also open at the touch of a hoof without getting caught or stuck. He replaced the few steps with gentle ramps, and lowered every countertop and every shelf, making sure that only the highest shelves were out of reach of the wheelchair-bound stallion.
And Sleipnir talked to Restless Languish, and helped him without ever patronizing him, and treated him like he was still a normal, healthy stallion... and Heaven, it almost made Blueblood cry to see that. Sleipnir was so good, so kind, so... so everything that Blueblood wanted to be...
Physically, Lang was barely able to move, but as the weeks passed into months, the unicorn began to react a little more mentally. He could barely talk, his voice only a whisper, his words slurred and sometimes mixed up... but his magic still seemed to work to a point. Blueblood was amazed by it, and by the tremendous strength and discipline he knew his father must have to be able to still try and move his own wheelchair with telekinesis when his broken body wouldn't even let him stand on his own emaciated legs..
Then, one day, while Sleipnir was out fetching groceries and Blue was quietly reading, Lang had carefully struggled into the room, using his working foreleg and his magic. Blue had hurriedly gotten up, worried something had happened, that his father's pain had worsened, that he was having an attack of some kind... but Lang had shaken his head and gestured at his lap, trying to slur out words, but only making noises.
Still, Blue had learned to interpret what his father wanted, and he was surprised and amazed to find that his father had made something for him. A gemstone, sloppily attached to a strap... and after a few minutes of studying it, Blueblood had realized he could feel magic pulsing through it. It had taken only another second for it to click in his mind, and he had smiled faintly, looking at his father with admiration and awe, as his father looked back... with sadness, and pain, but also love, and respect.
That night, Blueblood had slept with the band around his foreleg, and he'd found himself in a dreamworld that was so incredibly similar to the cottage he lived in now with his father. It had been eerie, really, getting out of bed and walking out to the living room... and to find his father sitting there and waiting for him, the old stallion looking up with a faint smile.
Restless Languish had recorded messages for him through the dream, letting them 'talk,' in a way... and it was wonderful, and it hurt so much at the same time, because this was only an echo of his father. It was his father's words, and his father's wishes, and it hurt so much to hear what he had to say in his gentle, compassionate voice...
In the morning, Blueblood had gone out to find his father in the living room, struggling just to turn the pages of a book that stood on the special stand Sleipnir had built him, since Lang couldn't hold a book up in front of his face anymore without help. And Blue had gently turned his father towards him, then reached up and grasped his shoulders as he struggled to hold back the tears in his eyes before he whispered: “I will not abandon you, Dad. I won't leave you like this. You don't deserve to suffer like this, okay? And I'm staying here because I love you, and because I'm... I'm not ready to let you go yet. It... it still feels like only yesterday that I got my Dad back, and... I... I don't want to lose you.”
And then Blueblood had hugged his father and buried his face against his thin chest, as the tears had flowed down his cheeks and he'd swallowed back his sobs. And his father had silently embraced him back as best he could with his working foreleg, trembling as tears streamed down his own face, chuffling quietly as he did everything he could to stay strong for his son.
Blueblood didn't think there was any other stallion in the world as strong as his father had proven to be. Every few weeks, his father would create a new gemstone for him, and Sleipnir would attach it to a band, and Blue would slip it on and sleep. He eagerly awaited each and every dream his father had to share with him...
Until today. Today, Blueblood had woken up early, then made breakfast before quietly making his way to his father's room with a small tray of food, gently knocking once before he pushed the door open and gazed inside...
His father was seated in his wheelchair, his head lowered, his forelegs cradling a fragile gemstone that had cracked from the magic energy focused into it. Blueblood stood in the doorway, gazing at his father and trembling as the tray floated silently beside him, and he... he simply knew. There was no better way to put it, as he breathed slowly in and out before silently, carefully putting down the tray on the floor outside the room.
He strode inside, reaching up to grasp his father's shoulder... and then he closed his eyes tightly before leaning forwards and hugging him as tightly as he could around the neck, burying his face into his shoulder and whispering: “I love you, Dad. You don't... you don't need this, but I forgive you. I know Mom does, too. I know she's waiting for you, so... so go find her, and... and say hello for me. And... and thank you, for... for being my father...”
There were no dramatics, no theatrics, as Blueblood silently hugged his father again and let the tears flow down his face, until he felt a gentle hoof touch his back. He looked up to find Sleipnir standing beside him, and Blueblood nodded to him silently before he had turned around, and the two had embraced fiercely.
After a few minutes, they pulled apart, and the two looked at each other before Blueblood asked quietly: “Will you... go into town for me? He needs his... everything is all arranged, and... we just need to let... to tell people...”
“Aye, Blue, of course. I shall see to everything, fear not.” Sleipnir halted, looking down before he added quietly: “That gemstone has fractured. While I am in town, I can repair it so it does not break when thou uses it, for I am certain that thy father... has left thee one last dream.”
“Can you really...” Blueblood stopped, then laughed faintly and shook his head, whispering: “Of course you can. I'm... I'm so lucky to have you with me, Sleipnir. I would never... I'd hate to think what would have happened without you.”
“There is little need to thank me there, Blue.” Sleipnir reached up and gently touched the old scarring on the side of the unicorn's face, saying softly: “I fear I am the root of as many pains as pleasures, little brother.”
Blueblood only laughed a little, and then he shook his head slowly. There was silence for a moment, and then the unicorn took a shuddering breath before turning and silently picking up the gemstone from his father's lap.
He held it for a moment, then closed his eyes and squeezed it gently: it was fragile, and yet... so warm. Pulsed with so much magic, so much life... and Blueblood trembled before he whispered: “He would have been the best of the Dream Weavers. He would have been as good as Princess Luna.”
“Aye, I do not doubt it. He was a noble, strong stallion...” Sleipnir smiled faintly, shaking his head slowly before he gently took the damaged gemstone, saying softly: “Thou shall see him again one day, I am certain. Life cycles in this world, and all that tars the soul of thy father is unnecessary guilt and pain he needs not feel. I am certain that Mother Nature will love him as dearly as thou did, and see that he is amply rewarded for the life he has lived.”
Blueblood smiled faintly, then he nodded briefly before lowering his head and murmuring: “I hope so. For now, I... I'm going to give him the little dignity I can.”
“Alright, Blue. I shall give thee time before I send anyone to thee, then.” Sleipnir promised, and Blue smiled again, looking up and rubbing silently at his eyes. Somehow, the big earth pony always knew just what he needed, and... it was at times like this he realized how lucky that made him.
Sleipnir left, and Blueblood turned towards his father, studying him silently for a few moments before he took a slow breath, then reached up and silently brushed some of his straggly mane away from his closed eyes, murmuring: “At least... you're free from this broken body now. And... and Sleipnir's right. We'll see each other again, some day...”
He smiled briefly, then shook himself slowly before gazing over his father silently. Stuck in this wheelchair, a harness half-pulled on around his body, like he had passed away while trying to hook himself in, stuck wearing a diaper and with patches and bandages all down his chest because of how much his body had hurt, reeking of the salves they used to help his body resist atrophy... he deserved so much better than this. He deserved dignity.
Blueblood gently pulled his father out of the wheelchair, and laid him silently on his bed before he grasped a garbage can. He felt like his body was shaking, but his hooves remained steady as he first removed all the... the excess. It left his father bare on the bed, naked and silent and so thin... and Blue shook his head slowly before he picked up the garbage can and left.
He returned a few minutes later with a sponge and a bucket and a whole kit of cleaning implements. He owed his father this, he felt. He knew his father was gone, that his spirit had moved on... but this was important to him. Even if he no longer had to fear the nightmares, Blue still feared everything about funerals and cemeteries and how his body would be treated after he died... he could at least show his respect for his father by helping make his body... comfortable.
He scrubbed his body with care, combed his mane and tail, wiped away all the dirt and grime. He gently scraped and polished his hooves, before quietly heading to the closet and finding his father's best suit.
Blueblood studied this for the longest time, and then he silently hung it back on the rack, taking a slow breath. No, it didn't seem appropriate: his father had been humble, and kind, and proud of his roots. Being a gravedigger and groundskeeper hadn't been a job that was below him, but he had done his very best at it, like he'd done with everything else, even though he'd had the makings of a Dream Weaver, of unicorn nobility...
No, he was unicorn nobility. This was real nobility, Blue thought: a proud stallion who always gave his best, who never looked down on other ponies, who took responsibility for his actions. Who was strong and decent and modest almost to a fault...
Blueblood realized that he was crying again, and he trembled before reaching up and wiping at his eyes, breathing roughly in and out before he swallowed back his pain. As he wiped at his eyes again, he looked to the side... and then smiled faintly as he saw something far more appropriate, he thought. Far more suiting to a stallion like his father had been.
Blueblood gently, gingerly dressed his father's body in his old traveling clothes, silently tightening the simple belt around his waist, gently brushing the wrinkles out of the simple jacket. There was a cape as well, but for now, Blueblood only draped it off to the side, smiling a little more as he studied the strangely-regal figure of the body. His undershirt was clearly from a different suit and the colors were all faded and the clothing was all worn and... it just felt perfect.
The unicorn sat quietly with his father, and the minutes bled away. He didn't know what else to do, what else to think, as he only gazed silently at the figure of Restless Languish and... didn't even know what to feel. Sadness? Relief? Serenity? Regret?
It was too strange. There were too many conflicting emotions, and Blueblood shook his head slowly before he smiled faintly as he finally heard a quiet knocking at the door. He hesitated for only a moment, then leaned over and silently kissed his father's forehead, whispering: “Okay Dad. Time... time to go.”
He climbed to his hooves and made his way to the door; everything past that became a blur. There were ponies, asking him if he needed anything, treating him gently and gingerly even as they talked about... funeral costs, and asked what they were going to do about the coffin, and where it was going to be held.
Blueblood wasn't able to come up with any good answers except to repeat, again and again, that his father had arranged everything himself ahead of time.. but thankfully he didn't have to spend long thinking about it: Sleipnir returned, and with him was the town's sole lawyer, who presented Blueblood with both a copy of his father's will as well as his last requests.
It was all set up, just like Blueblood had thought. His father wanted to be cremated, and his ashes scattered. Not a bad choice, Blue reflected.
There would be no viewing, and no real funeral, either: his father had requested that very specifically. And Blueblood felt somehow that his father had done that for him more than anything else, which made him smile faintly before he shook his head slowly. He still wanted to do something more for his father...
Sleipnir seemed to sense what he was thinking about, and the earth pony leaned down and whispered quickly in his ear. Blueblood had frowned at this, but then nodded slowly before saying quietly: “Tell everyone... they can come here tonight, if they want. They can say their last goodbyes, and... then have him cremated tomorrow.”
The pony that Blueblood guessed was the funeral director looked awkward for a moment... but then Sleipnir calmly dropped a hoof on his shoulder and smiled before saying gently: “Honoring the wishes of our departed friends is more important than girding thy bottom dollar, is it not?”
“I... yes. Yes, of course.” The funeral director smiled weakly up at the enormous stallion, and Blueblood couldn't help but feel thankful that Sleipnir had decided to step in.
Thankfully, the rest of the conversation hadn't lasted too long: the ponies left, and Sleipnir and Blueblood were left sitting quietly by themselves in the living room. Then Sleipnir cleared his throat and reached up into his mane, digging through the vines before he smiled and pulled loose a purple gemstone on a strap, saying softly: “Here. I had almost forgotten.”
Blue reached up and took the gemstone, feeling the magic thrumming through it, as powerful and potent as it had been before. But the surface felt strong and solid, not a hint of a crack visible in the amethyst as he studied the surface silently, then laughed a little before saying quietly: “You really never cease to amaze, Sleipnir. It looks... it looks just right. I can feel the potency of the magic in it.”
Sleipnir only smiled and shrugged slowly, then he replied honestly: “I merely did what I could, Blue, that is all. 'Tis my pleasure, though, to have been of service at all to thee in thy time of need.”
The unicorn only shrugged a little, and then he hesitated before looking down and murmuring: “I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. I don't... I don't know what I'm supposed to do. He was... he was such a good stallion, Sleipnir.”
“The very best.” Sleipnir agreed softly, and then he chuckled quietly before saying gently: “There is no crime in happiness. Even at the worst of times, when thou art lost in the darkest of darks... thou can still laugh, if thou has the heart for it. And 'tis no crime in it. So laugh, Blue, if that is what thy heart calls for... but likewise, cry, if that is what thou needs. Sing out, my brother, with whatever it is that thou feels.”
Blueblood looked down for a moment, biting his lip... and then he looked up at this always-smiling, always-pleasant, always-helpful stallion before he asked quietly: “You really don't think... my Dad would mind?”
“I think he would be happy that thou art happy. For that is all he ever seemed to want for thee, Blue: happiness.” Sleipnir replied honestly, and then he leaned forwards and reached up to squeeze his shoulder firmly. “Of course there is no joy to be found in times of great strife, if thou does not look for it. But if thou art to search the darkness... thou shall always find a beacon. Thou must just be willing to open thy eyes.”
Sleipnir reached up and gently tapped Blue's forehead a few times, and the unicorn gave a brief smile before he nodded suddenly. He leaned forwards, and the two traded a tight embrace for a moment before pulling apart, and Sleipnir laughed and reached up to firmly tousle Blueblood's mane, making him wince and shove at the enormous earth pony. “Good! Good, my brother! Now tell me, speak with joy of thy parents. Tell me again, another story of when thou wert a colt.”
Blueblood glared at Sleipnir for a moment... but then he looked down for a moment at the purple gemstone in one hoof before sighing and nodding, although his voice was almost meek when he began: “The... how about when.. I was at the playground.”
The earth pony smiled benevolently and nodded firmly, and Blueblood started to talk. And once he got going, he began to honestly smile, even when sadness pricked at his heart and his eyes... but no, there was happiness, too. Good memories, as he talked about how he'd gotten lost and his parents had come to look for him and they had all ended up covered in dirt but... happy. So happy, because there had been nothing wrong in those old days, because getting lost had become an adventure and they'd stumbled across this gorgeous little paradise hidden in the woods...
He remembered it so clearly, and it made him so... so happy. He cherished these memories, as he clutched the last gift from his father tightly in one hoof, and felt like the magic, the life that pulsed out of it was helping bring all these memories all the clearer to the surface, helped him to talk, helped him not to mourn his father's passing, but to celebrate the life he had lived, and everything he had done.
Blueblood talked and lost track of time, until they were interrupted by a knock at the door. And the unicorn was touched to find Merlot, of all ponies, had brought his family and a large tray of sandwiches, the well-dressed unicorn saying kindly: “I hope we aren't imposing, but... he was always a decent stallion. And he worked harder for me than any other pony in this town. I thought it was only right that I come and pay my respects.”
“I appreciate it, and I know my father would as well. Thank you.” Blueblood said honestly, and he quietly took the tray of food before smiling and turning to head into the living room, Merlot following with his wife and daughter. “Restless Languish is... in his bedroom. Sleipnir and I were just talking about... about the good times.”
“That's the best thing to keep in mind, I think, hard as it is. Your father would want you to be happy: even when he should have been worrying about himself, he only ever seemed to think about other ponies, and you were at the top of that list.” Merlot said gently, and then the richly-red unicorn straightened before gesturing politely at his family. “Penny, we're... going to say goodbye to Mr. Languish now, alright? Mind your manners, dear: he's just started his long sleep.”
“Okay, Daddy.” said the little filly, nodding a few times, and her mother smiled faintly and gently tugged the young girl onwards as Merlot lingered a moment, then glanced over his shoulder at Sleipnir and Blueblood.
“I... feel very inadequate offering you this, Blueblood, but... I'd like to take care of any costs for the cremation, at least. And if you need anything else, please let me know. I'd be more than happy to help out.” Merlot said quietly, gesturing at the two and smiling hesitantly.
Blue only smiled in return, however, shaking his head slowly before he replied quietly: “I appreciate the offer, more than you can know, Merlot. And I won't deny your kindness, either, it would... I know my father would have been honored by it. And so am I.”
Merlot only nodded in return, then smiled briefly before he turned and headed back towards the bedroom. There was silence for a few moments, and then Sleipnir picked up a sandwich from the tray and bit into it, saying around the mouthful of food: “'Twas good of you.”
“I don't see how.” Blueblood laughed a little, then gestured at Sleipnir and added: “And it's rude to talk with your mouth full, you know.”
“'Tis funny. Usually I only hear that from mares.” Sleipnir waggled his eyebrows at the unicorn, and Blueblood looked at the earth pony for a moment... then, in spite of everything, in spite of how much Sleipnir annoyed him and how much his father's passing had hurt and how strange this all felt, Blueblood couldn't help but laugh.
It felt good to laugh. It felt good, in spite of everything, to get a little relief. To be able to smile openly, and honestly, and to... to remember that there were still important people in his life. His father had passed on, but one day, they would meet again one way or another, he was sure of that... and now, he was free of pain.
But his life wasn't over yet. His life was just starting, really: sure, maybe he'd started a little late, but he was a stallion now, who had done everything he could for his father, and who... who owed this stallion across from him a debt he could never repay. Who had a best friend and brother who had stood by him through thick and thin, in spite of the fact...
Blueblood smiled faintly, and then he lowered his head before saying quietly: “Sleipnir, after... my father is cremated... we're going to leave for Canterlot. I'm... I'm sorry I made you wait. I know you must be eager to leave, and... my father wanted me to finish this, too.”
“Nay, Blue, all is well, fear not.” Sleipnir said gently, and then he shook his head and chuckled quietly before murmuring: “I honestly wished for thee to spend all the time thou needed with thy father... and I am all the more glad that thou did. 'Tis unfair that thou lost him so early, Blueblood, but... all the same, thou hast managed thyself well. Thou hast shouldered this burden with a grace that I can but admire, my friend.”
Blueblood only shrugged a little, and then he looked hesitantly down at the purple gemstone still in his hoof. “I guess... it helps knowing that I've never really lost him. Not only because of the cycle, but because... he gave me his very dreams, Sleipnir.”
“He was a wise and wonderful stallion.” Sleipnir smiled, then invited gently: “Tell me more of these Dream Weavers. I fear my great empty head still does not entirely grasp the concept.”
Blueblood chuckled quietly, but then he glanced up curiously as Merlot returned with his family, the well-dressed unicorn bowing his head politely to Blueblood before he said quietly: “We won't impose. Thank you for-”
“No, please. Feel free to stay.” Blueblood invited, and Merlot looked surprised as the unicorn smiled up at him before he chuckled as there was a knock at the door. “Well, excuse me, but... feel free to stay. Sleipnir and I are both happy for the company.”
Sleipnir nodded firmly, and then he smiled kindly down at the filly, who was shyly looking back and forth, not entirely understanding what was going on. “Fear not now, little filly. 'Tis a safe place here. Come, sit with me, I shall braid thy mane and make it almost as pretty as mine own!”
Sleipnir cheerfully tossed his viny locks, winking at the little mare, and she giggled quietly before looking up at her mother. The mare smiled indulgently at her daughter after a moment, and Merlot sighed, but then finally gestured towards Sleipnir. “Of course. I don't think you've ever been introduced, though. Sleipnir, this is my daughter, Penny. Penny, this is Sleipnir.”
“Be careful though, Penny. Sleipnir's so vain about his mane he might purposefully make a mess of your pretty hair. He can't stand competition.” Blueblood said as he entered the room, and Penny giggled a little even as she glared suspiciously up at Sleipnir, who pasted an innocent expression on his face as he touched his breast with both front hooves.
Merlot looked surprised at Blueblood's amiability as he led several more ponies inside, then gestured kindly to the side, saying softly: “Dad is... sleeping in there. Go ahead, let yourselves in. And thank you. It means a lot to me, and I know it would mean a lot to him.”
The ponies smiled, then traded nods with Merlot and his wife as they walked past. Sleipnir, meanwhile, had hefted the filly into his lap, and was doing a surprisingly good job of braiding her hair, the entire sandwich now stuffed into his muzzle.
Merlot hesitated, then looked over at Blueblood, asking uncertainly: “Are you sure that you're alright? I know this must be hard for you. You don't need to put on any airs for us, though, we're...”
Blueblood looked back at Merlot for a moment, and then he laughed a little and nodded, replying quietly: “I... I honestly am alright. It might sound strange, but I really am. In fact, the more I think about it... the harder it is to be sad, because Restless Languish wouldn't have wanted that. He wanted me to be happy, to push forward with my life... he... he told me so many times he would be fine on his own here. That I should go...”
The prince smiled briefly, shaking his head slowly. “But I'm glad I never did. I'm... I'm sad that he's gone, but I'm happy for the time we spent together. I've learned as much here as I ever did on my adventures across Equestria... maybe even more.” Blueblood chuckled quietly, then smiled over at Sleipnir. “But perhaps that's because I had two strong stallions by my side instead of just one.”
Sleipnir gazed warmly back at the unicorn, and then Blue cleared his throat before saying finally: “Once my father is cremated, Sleipnir and I are going to leave for Canterlot. I'm going to bring his ashes with me. There's a place there I know he would have loved to see, where... I'd like to scatter his ashes and lay him down to rest.”
Merlot nodded, then he gestured around and promised: “Well, this home will be waiting for you, if you ever want it. I'll make sure that someone maintains it, at least for a few months. It's the very least I can do for you.”
“I appreciate it, Merlot...” Blueblood glanced around his father's house... what had become his home, really, before he said softly: “I already have a few ideas about what I'd like to do with it. Things that I hope my father will appreciate, wherever he is.”
“He's just sleepin', right?” Penny asked curiously, looking up, and Merlot smiled awkwardly as his wife shifted uncomfortably.
But Blueblood nodded calmly, and Sleipnir reached up to ruffle the filly's mane, ruining the braids he had just finished, the young girl giggling as she looked up at him warmly. “Aye, but he is in the long sleep now, which means that he has said goodbye to us and is now off to a better place.”
The filly nodded wisely a few times, and Merlot studied Blueblood with interest before he said quietly: “I hope you don't mind me saying this, Blueblood, but... when you first arrived here, I was worried. Worried about what might happen between you and Restless Languish, worried about all the tales that I'd heard about the Prince of Equestria. But you've left me feeling... humbled, to say the least. And I wish that I could say something to make you both stay, if just a little longer. You've done wonders for our town.”
Sleipnir only shrugged, then replied kindly: “Fear not, friend, for I have seen the light return to this place, and know thou and thy kin shall see to it that thy home does not fall back into despair. But remember, teach thy children to nurture the life of this town: for it is not size alone that makes a place great, but the drive of the ponies who live within.”
Merlot and his wife both smiled at this, and Blueblood nodded firmly in agreement as Penny giggled quietly. Sleipnir gazed at the foal with warmth as he reached up and tenderly stroked through her mane, and she blushed and looked up at him with happiness... and as Blue looked at the two, he felt just like Sleipnir that there was nothing better, nothing purer, than bringing happiness to the innocent... and if there was any way they could best honor Restless Languish, it was by continuing to hold their heads high as they protected all ponies with compassion and honor.
Blueblood only hoped that he could be half the stallion his father had been.