Your hand idly rubs the length of your arms as the harsh shriek of the train jolts you awake. Eyes nearly popping open, you lean upwards and rub your eyes only to find the view outside obstructed by a thick layer of ice. Well, except for where your head was, that's just a thin layer of ice. Still, it's grants you no better view.
With chattering teeth you turn around, Iron Will stretching his arms while Gilda stays snug to his chest, both covered in a complementary wool blanket. In hindsight, maybe you should've grabbed one for yourself. You'd be half-tempted to join her, but you've got a marefriend who might ask some questions if you snuggled into another man, even if it's for warmth.
Instead you shove your hands under your armpits and stand in hopes of shaking off some of this cold, each exhale bringing a reminder of just how hellish this place is. Well, not exactly hell, but then again, you did come back. If anything could make hell freeze over... "Gill," Iron prods her, not in the way it sounds by the way, "Time to wake up. Gill."
The griffin flares her wings as she rolls over, eyes finally cracking open as she stretches her talons, "Mmmm, buck... It's chilly in here."
You know, and that doesn't fit the bill for you. All passenger cabins are required by law to have a heater in each compartment. You guess one too many people complained about turning into icicles... or popsicles, either one really. Looking around the empty passenger car you reckon they were smarter than to come east at this time of year.
"Couldn't tell," the minotaur smiles down at her before looking to you, "Heaters, huh?"
"Two in every car," you surprisingly manage to chatter out without guillotining your tongue. "I'll check with the conductor." Leaving the two of them alone you head up to the lead car to poke in on the conductor. A wave of heat melts the frost from your bones as the door opens, the lucky sod having a nice coal fire to warm up to. “Hey, w-what’s up with the A/C back there? I don’t think we’re headed to the Fil-Fillypines any time soon.”
The pony rubs his hooves together, even the roaring flames don’t seem to do the trick with this weather cutting right through, “Generator fried… Backups turned to ice cubes.” He turns his attention back to the fire as you step in and peer out the window and into the blizzard outside. “Bucking thing weather, never seen it this bad before.” This looks bad, worse than the storm up on Candid Mountain, and you damn near lost an arm and a leg from that one. Then again, you were stupid enough to go up without any gear.
You can barely see ten feet in front of you, though when you look out the right side, your heart freezes, and it’s not due to the weather. There it is, Aviaris, torches line the rim of its expansive walls, hundreds more dotted in and around the cities interior as it climbs the mountainside. “You better get a move on,” the conductor speaks up again, “Can’t keep this thing in one place too long or I might be making an extended stop.” Damn, and you were hoping for another minute with the fire… and away from the city. “I uh- I’m not usually supposed to do this, but you three take those blankets with you. Looks like you’ll need ‘em.”
“Isn’t exactly- regulation, is it?”
He shrugs with a smile, tightening the one around himself at the same time, “If you don’t want them…”
“Alright alright, just don’t- blame us if there’s more than three missing.” He simply nods as you head back into nice, cold, chilly, desolate- Fuck you miss that fire already.
Iron looks back up to you as you enter, “No luck, huh?” You’re fairly certain you don’t need an answer, so instead you open up the cabinet and star hording some of those blankets.
“Five minutes to departure! Five minutes!”
“We have to get going. Here,” you toss him a hefty bulk, he is bigger than you after all, “Don’t let it be said the head honcho isn’t without charity.”
Wrapping yourself up, Iron does the same for Gilda who seems to have woken up a bit more since you left. “What’d you have to do? Give him a ‘hand’?” You just shake your head and add another tick to the Gilda’s IOU. One day you’re going to have to cash it in.
Iron leads her over to the door, hefting their luggage over his shoulder without a scrap of cloth on him. He sees the worry in your eyes and smiles back, “When the weather is rough, it’s time to get tough.”
“He’ll be fine, Anon. I’ll keep his important parts warm.”
“Gross.” She snickers as you pull on the door, muscles clenching as you pull with all your might but to no avail, which makes her laugh even harder. “You think it’s funny? You give it a try hot shot.”
"With pleasure,” she locks her talons around the handle and gives it a pull… then another… then another. “The flying f-”
“Gil, allow me.” The minotaur shoos her talons away as he grips it with one hand and with a single heave throws the door open, shards of ice falling into the snow below. “Easy enough.”
”I loosened it up for you,” Gilda shoots back at him with playful scorn to which the minotaur shrugs off.
“Ladies first,” he says, motioning her outside into the storm.
She in turn turns back around and takes a step back, “Ladies first, Anon.” That’s two more for Gilda. You wonder if she’ll pay cash or credit.
“I hate both of you.” Lining up with the door you take one last breath of breathable air before thrusting yourself back out into Hoth. Now just to the find the shield generator… Snow encasing your legs from the knee down and you deeply regret not changing out of your suit into more acceptable clothing… In fact, you regret not packing at all. Didn’t have much time to be quite honest. Maybe-
The crunch of snow sounds from behind you, Gilda and Iron Will right there with you as they’ve always been. You hold in a chuckle as Iron Will’s hand moves for one of the blankets only for Gilda to smack it away. ’When the weather is rough.’ Pfft, good luck with that one. They keep close as you make your way towards the city with only a torch’s dwindling glow as your guide.
You form a small hood with your blanket as the roar of the train sounds to your rear. If you were quick, and knew just where to jump you could still- Dammit Anon, get a hold of yourself. You’re here for Gilda… and for the King. The true King.
The guards stand ready at the gates, a good four of them lumped together in pairs. Unlike the dual layered steel of their royal counterparts, these stick to their traditional leather and iron cuirass and pauldrons, though with added fur lining for the current weather. Their talons tighten upon their matching halberds as you approach, these griffons trained since their early years to utilize such a tool, “Halt!”
You do as he says, your friends joining to your right. You take a look at the gate standing above you. It feels like a lifetime ago when you last passed through these gates. The guard looks to the three of you before focusing his eyes on Gilda, “You have come for our king’s passing?” She nods without a word, a smart move if they ask you. “And your… companions?”
"Yes, yes,” she calls over the roaring blizzard, her irritation evident, “Can we come in now? It’s colder than a Windigo’s teat out here.” Just as she says that a fresh wave sends your nuts crawling back between your legs, rather uncomfortably you might add. Despite the harshness of the weather you manage a chuckle, though the guard does not appear so amused. With that same steeled glare he nods to his fellows to open the gate. About damn time too, you’re not sure how much longer you can stand out here.
As the gate cracks open and you move forward his talon raises. “You,” he once again focuses his attention on Gilda, “Not them.” Say what now?
“Bullshit.”
”Mind your tongue, foreigner,” the guard spits back at you before motioning Gilda forward.
“No, this is bullshit. Come on, Iron?”
A steamy puff shoots from his nose as he keeps Gilda snug to his side, “What the little guy said.”
You’re not that little… “This is a time of mourning for our people. The Vice General Rivot’s orders were clear… and we will not violate our commander’s orders.” Gilda’s scowl could level this city, but strangely she turns herself to Iron Will and the luggage on his shoulder.
“We’re getting in this city, one way or another,” you try to puff up your chest, only to deflate with the other three guards return, weapons still ready, “Preferably peacefully.”
"We’ll take option b,” the guard stands on his rear legs, matching his height with you. “I need to get my blood going.”
Iron Will grunts and scrapes his hoof through the layer of snow. “When somepony tries to block…”
”Here!” Gilda shouts out, pulling her talons from the luggage and stomping towards the guard before throwing an envelope in their face. “Right here, it says me and any bucking pony or minotaur or monkey I want.”
“Hey!”
“Let me see that,” the guard steals the paper from her and turns back to the torch, squinting through the blaring winds.
"HEY!” That’s what you said. “Give that back!”
Before either she or Iron Will can send you three to the dungeon with Griffin-Pablo the guard’s posture drops, “Gilda. This is your name?” She begrudgingly nods, the guard in turn signaling the other three to lower their weapons. “Will any others be joining you?”
You cock a brow at his line of questioning, as does Gilda… and Iron Will… and the other three guards. “Just them… What’s the big deal?”
”A simple misunderstanding ma’am. Keep safe.” He replies, handing the invitation back to her with an all too unnerving smile. You all share a collective glance before inching forward, step by step to the gate, every alarm in your mind blaring off at full blast. Run off, they keep telling you, something’s wrong, something’s not right. The last time you had this feeling you came back to the castle bloody and bruised. They both slip through the crack in the gate and you follow suit, a talon resting on your shoulder almost making your skeleton jump straight through your skin.
The guard turns you around and you swear you’ll be meeting the King personally when he leans in. “An old acquaintance sends his regards...” Here I come, Stormguard. “…and he requests you not to leave the city, you or the griffin. Stay safe, Anon.” He pats the snow off your shoulder as you consider soiling your pants before he nudges you inside, “We’ll be watching.”
The gate is pulled shut behind you, only the blizzard’s drizzle of snow easing down upon you, and yet your skin lays cold and blood become of ice. The weather quickly dries out your eyes, but you can’t seem to blink. Well, maybe later. If you live that long, that is. “Will you hurry up, Slim?” You look up to Gilda as she throws off the blanket and stretches her wings, toppling the caked on layers of snow and ice. “Mom’s waiting.”
“Y-yeah, okay.” Stay in the city. Sure, lots of snow piled up to keep your body nice and frozen. It makes for easy disposal. Shaking yourself out of this train of thought you shuffle quickly after her and up the steps to the eastern side, detouring back down to the… less than clean part of the city. You make note of how empty the city is for the time of day which only adds to the ever-growing tension that almost seems to float on the air. You pass by each stone hovel with door locked and window shut. You could chalk it up to the weather, but by god if this doesn’t rub you the wrong way. “Hey Gilda, can I see that invitation?” What did it say? There had to be something there he saw.
She gives you that raised brow questioning look, but hands it off regardless, “Trying to find what douchey was looking for?”
“Something like that…” you run your fingers along the alabaster note, a simple rectangle, well-proportioned and firm. You keep Iron Will in view so you don’t wander astray as you inspect the parchment. You rub it between your fingers and give it a sniff, just normal ink. You’re waving it back and forth as you try to think, a nervous tick would be more accurate but you digress… What was he looking for? What did that guard see?
”HEY! Be careful with that, it’s the only one I’ve got.” Gilda shouts back at you making you jump a little, just tad. Then again… Be careful with that. It’s the only one- You wag the invite to and fro again, watching how firm and steady it is. This is quality parchment which Gilda’s mom would- No no no, it’s a funeral invitation for the king, of course the paper is of quality… Then why was Gilda’s mom given an invite? Random chance or something else? Rinn knew about you and Gilda being friends, by Celestia, just thinking his name turns your heart to glass. He wanted you out here, if not him, then someone who knew you, Rivot maybe? He didn’t think you paid your dues?
’Hereby invited to attend… blahdy blah’, usual fluff. Even down at the bottom below the chunk of jargon is a handwritten note by her mother. You can forge the writing, but not the words. By the power of Greysku- Two resounding thuds stirs you back, Gilda knocking on a familiar door as you catch up. You decide it best to muster fictional power-ups at a later time as the door finally cracks open revealing the smiling hostess herself.
”My girl’s finally come home,” the griffon tears up, pulling open the door and weakly grabbing hold of her daughter, a sigh that brings back some much needed moisture to your eyes. But then a brush of fresh wind just smacks the mood away in one swift stroke like the asshole it is. Oh well, you think as Gilda’s mother ushers the three of you inside, at least you get to feel your limbs again.
Ooooh, so this is what warmth feels like. You’d almost forgotten with that twenty minute trip outside. You’re just going to snuggle up next to the fire here and… there we are. As much as you’d like to the same way as the dinosaurs, you’ll stay right here… Wait, that’s wrong Mr. Freeze. You breathe in your cupped hands before putting them near the fireplace, a kettle already heating above the flames. There isn’t much here, but you expect as much. Griselda, Gilda’s mother, is not as well off as others in this city, and even they are merely on par by the lowest of Equestria’s standards. Even the size speaks volumes, the confining space likely leaving Iron Will with a stiff neck after we leave.
Turning back, you find the minotaur shaking hand with Griselda, likely a life-long reunion given the history between their families. It’s still hard for you to believe that Gilda was once like you, at least, like you were, like Sun Tapper is now. Iron Will was hired to help her out, but after everything was done he didn’t want the money. He’d seen her mother, how the disease affected her, how little they had. You can’t help but smile thinking about the two of them, the griffon and the minotaur, once rivals an age past, but now brought together. He’ll keep her safe. He’s a good man- Err, half-man.
You should let them have their moment, so instead you turn back to the fire, and the letter placed in your pocket. Slipping it back out you rest it upon your lap, its secrets still unknown to you, that is, if there even is one. Could this all just be a mistake? Did the guard simply not believe you? Maybe- Probably. By god this is just too much for you right now. A day ago you were just mopping floors like a good worker, and now… Twilight’s a princess, you’ve followed Gilda to Aviaris, you’re wrapped up in a mystery and it’s still cold as a Windigo’s flank.
A figure moves to your side, Griselda it turns out to be, and opens the top of the kettle to give it a stir. “It’s nice to see you again, Anon.”
“You as well, ma’am.” Looking down at the letter you try to find the best way to ask her a question regarding the note. “Griselda-“
”Here,” she interrupts holding out a wooden spoon, little bits of potato and minced beef coating its surface, “How’s it taste?” The growl of your stomach doesn’t give you much choice in the matter as you nearly dive in for a bite.
“Hmm,” you hum, “It’s good. Maybe needs a little salt but…”
“Oh well we’re out of luck there, dear. With this storm we’ve had to volunteer our stores to the city.”
“And by volunteer?”
She smiles and weakly pats your shoulder, “It’s for the greater good, dear. I think you’d agree that a few bland meals are worth keeping our city snow-free.” Maybe, but they shouldn’t need to go to such lengths. The government should already have a sufficient supply so they don’t have to take what they need from their citizens. Equestria knew that.
“Griselda?” You stop her before she moves away, eyes turning back to the note, “There’s something about this invitation I don’t understand. Actually, make that a lot of things I don’t get. When you got this, was there anything, I don’t know, strange about it?”
"Strange? No, but I do consider myself lucky. Not many are allowed to attend- to attend the King’s departure.” The griffon wipes the growing tears from her eyes but forces a weak smile, “I am glad you came back with her.” You’re not so sure this will turn out as well for you but… Hang on a second.
“You said you considered yourself lucky, but the invitation is addressed to Gilda herself, not you. Why would-”
"Oh dear, you think too much of these things. I am lucky to join her today; every griffon should have the privilege of paying their respects.” Of course. Of course. You’re fishing for answers here but only pull up junk.
“Gosh, I’m sorry,” you shake your head in embarrassment, “I’m used to picking apart at every last word. Old habits die hard I guess.”
“Some habits are best not forgotten. Now don’t be shy, that fire has enough heat to go around.”
“Don’t tell him know that, ma,” Gilda sounds off, dragging her mother away from you. “More for the rest of us.” Does that deserve another point? Nah, she owes you enough already. You tap the invitation against your hand a couple more times before giving it one last lazed glance.
…
What is that?
~~~
"Iron Will? He’s outside, the big turd. Hit him for me, will ya?” Ehh, you’re not entirely sure that’ll work out in your favor but saying no won’t exactly put you in Gilda’s good graces. Allowing your blanket to loosen up around you, you slip back outside swiftly, letting only a quick draft make it into the stone hovel.
Iron Will’s standing off to your right with his arms crossed, calm puffs of steam rhythmically pulsing from his nostrils. “It’s warmer inside.” You slide on beside him and softly tap his arm, making good on your word. “Safer too I’d imagine.”
“It was just a little tap,” you try and lighten the mood a little. “Besides, you can take it.” He doesn’t look at you, keeping himself strangely stern and rigid instead which isn’t like the Iron Will you know. Maybe he’s a little rigid, but that’s just a minotaur thing. If he’s acting like this that means he’s cooking something up in that noggin of his and it can’t be good. “Bit for your thoughts?”
“Double it, and I’ll think about it,” his eyes travelling up the distant walls as he talks, that lifeless tone not exactly resting easy on your mind.
“Jeez, Iron,” you chuckle nervously, “The cold doesn’t sit well with you, does it? I feel sorry for your patrons come winter.” Nothing? Fine, if he wants to play it like that… “So, you feel something’s off too?”
At long fucking last he turns back, the first time he’s looked at you since you came outside. “I’ve had a bad feeling this whole trip. Let’s just say it hasn’t gotten better.”
“I know what you mean, it’s gotten a lot worse.”
“You find something out?” He asks idly as he resumes his scanning of the Aviaris walls, only returning as you hold out the invite to him. “I’ll take that as a yes.” You give him a minute to look it over as you kick some half-melted snow from your shoes only to rest them back in the puddle that made them that way. This place is just as devoid of life as you left it. How long has it been? It has to be close to a year now, doesn’t it? All this time, that bastard’s had time to have Gryphonnia ‘return to its glory days.’ Bah! You stood in his office and felt safe and secure. Here was a griffon who knew, who understood what Aviaris was missing. If only you could have known. “I don’t see anything.”
“Look harder then.”
“No games, no pain,” he lets out a fresh puff as he says that, your breath nearly catching in your throat.
“That one didn’t rhyme.” No laugh? Fine. You take back the invite and hold it up to the sky, the light of the sun still granting the needled illumination. “Do you see it now?” You point your finger to the bottom right, a little place nice and out of the way, the truth hidden behind a façade, the same you’d fallen for once.
”Some sort of letter? A ‘B’? Are there others that form some sort of code?”
“It’s actually an ‘R’ and no, nothing so devious. It was small enough not to be noticed, but obvious enough for the right person to know where to look.”
"How’d you find it?”
“The fireplace. I was about ready to give it up when I held it in front of me. That watermark isn’t as sensitive to light as most others, that’s why we never saw it before, and it’s why you guessed wrong.”
He holds it up to the light again, this time nodding as he sees the rest of the letter. “This is why the guards let us in? They knew about the letter?”
“They didn’t know right away, but they knew where to look for it.”
“So they wanted us to be here… Why? Who would want us in Aviaris?”
“That brings us back to the ‘R’ then, doesn’t it? There’s only a few griffons I know who use that initial. Reuben is dead and Rivot doesn’t have the brain cells to pull this off. I don’t think you or Gilda are the targets, Iron Will. Rinn wants me. Ha… Never thought I’d die young.”
You kick your foot back and forth, a furry hand resting on your shoulder. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, I’ll make sure of it.” You laugh again and bite your lips. This is really happening isn’t it? You thought he would finally leave you alone and let you live in peace…
“You’re a good guy, Iron,” grabbing onto his hand atop your shoulder and squeezing, “I’m sorry I drug you two into this mess. Politics huh? Should’ve known better than to make friends.”
"Listen here,” he grabs you by both shoulders, nearly giving you a heart attack, “We’re in this together, all of us. Now I don’t know what’s going through that head of yours, but I’m not ready to meet the big minotaur in the sky and neither is Gilda. You aren’t going to die in this city, I’ll give up drinking before that happens.” Guess you aren’t going to die in that case. “We’re your friends and we’ll stand by each other no matter what happens because that’s what friends do. Rinn? Buck him, never liked him anyways. He’s not taking away one of mine, you got it? We’ll get out of this city, all of us. You listening to me?”
“Yeah…”
“Tell me you’re going to make it.” He can’t be serious. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until you say it.”
“Sigh… I’m going to make it.”
"Damn straight you are.” He finally lets you go and resumes his previous position. “I think I know how to get us out of here, but it may be difficult on Griselda. I’ve been watching the patrols and there’s a small time gap we might slip through over the walls.” Running away again, doesn’t that sound like you? “We just have one problem. Do you see those griffons out there, the two shoveling snow?” Your head turns up to the rooftops a ways off and indeed there are two griffons shoveling snow. “They’ve been at it for a while now and haven’t lost line of sight since we arrived. Maybe its just my imagination, but if they got two griffons shoveling snow, there ought to be more in a city this size. What do you make of that?”
If he wanted your political analysis you could write a damn book or at least half of one, but domestic affairs? There isn’t much reading to be had on that front, but you know what these two are doing. The guard told you as much. “They’re watching us, I know. We’ve had eyes on us ever since we passed through those gates.” You turn to see the minotaur staring blankly at you and all you can think to do is smile. “The guard told me not to leave the city. He knew my name, Iron. He knew my fucking name…”
“Hey! You said you’re going to make it and I’ll hold you to it. We’re leaving, go inside and tell Gilda. I’ll keep an eye on these two out here.” Iron’s right, you should leave while you have the chance, just take off and don’t look back. Heh, you always seem to make a habit of doing the opposite.
“You three can leave,” you shake your head and stay put, “but I can’t. I’ve got a funeral to attend.”
Once more he jerks you by the shoulders, a fire burning in his eyes, “Don’t you understand? These griffons aren’t the ones to invite you in for a drink and if they really were sent by Rinn-”
“I’m staying!” you grunt and throw his hand off of you, turning to the two onlookers to find them parting their own gaze. Why can’t things ever be easy? “I need to pay my respects, Iron. I need to ask him to forgive me.” You can see he doesn’t understand and that’s alright. It’s not like you said anything about it and no one’s ever asked. “Rinn isn’t the only reason I didn’t want to come back here. Celestia gave me a job, you see. She needed me to find a cure. Stormguard was sick with a muscular degeneration disease. He wasn’t contagious at this point, it only seemed to be so in its early cycle, but… You know it well enough, a certain griffon inside has it. The King did too.” Again you chuckle, and for the life of you you can’t find the reason why. It makes you sick to your stomach. “I found that damn cure. I had it in my own damn hands, but Rinn took it from me.”
You clench your hand into a trembling fist, holding it to your mouth as you admit to your own sins. “The King is dead because of me. He’s dead because Celestia trusted me. He’s dead because- It doesn’t matter what part of me killed him. It might’ve been trust, ignorance, strength, whatever. All I know is I could have saved him and I didn’t. This is my chance to make amends, and I’ll be damned if I let that opportunity pass me by. You three find a way out of here, make sure they’re safe. If I don’t come back… Tell Twilight I’m sorry.”
That furred hand once again rests on your shoulder, “You’ll have to tell her that yourself.”
“I already said I’m not leaving.”
“So you weren’t listening to me after all? We’re your friends, Anon. We’ll stay by your side until that stops being so, you got me?”
“I’ll tell you, if minotaurs were as smart as they were loyal-” You shut up real nice when he gives a stern but light-hearted growl, “Point taken.”
”Head on inside, I’ll keep watch.”
“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit, keep you company and all,” you smile back at him, patting his furry backside.
”If anything goes wrong… keep them safe.”
“We’re going to make it, big guy. All of us.” They stuck with you when you hit rock bottom, they’ll stick with you through thick and thin. Maybe you owe them a lot more than they owe you.
~~~
A couple hours go by before the telltale creaking of the front door has you and Iron on your feet. Gilda holds the door open as her mother makes her way outside, an old robe draped along her back, tattered and worn you can’t help but frown at the sight. Fuck it. You need to get some thick skin anyways, you convince yourself to throw off your blanket and cover the old griffon fully. “Thank you, dear. Aren’t you the sweet one? Gilda, you take care of this one, he’s a keeper.”
”Mom,” her daughter groans in response, that eye roll standard in this case. Iron Will wraps a burly arm around Gilda as she locks the door, the two holding their heads against the other before moving off up the steps.
You decide to stay by Griselda in the meantime, to which she is grateful for. It kind of surprises you honestly. Griffons are a proud people, even so to a fault. Charity is taken as an insult to their person as it implies they cannot care for themselves. But Griselda? She’s nothing like that. She’s always thankful for her blessings and doesn’t bat an eye at her misfortune, at least as far as you’ve seen. It makes you wonder how Gilda turned out to be so far off from her. That’s how she presents herself at least, you know better.
You match pace with the elder griffon, offering her your hand as you ascend the long stairway to the mountain’s peak. There’s that damn smile again and you can’t help but get red in the face. She deserves a better life than this. “Excuse me, Griselda, but can I ask you something?”
“Why of course you can.” Easy enough you suppose.
“Why are you always so happy? I don’t mean anything bad by it of course.”
”Happy?” she replies with that same motherly tune. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” You take a look back to her hovel, browned and molded through the ages, and then to the two griffons who finally made their way to the entrance. You’ll make it through this.
“Not many ponies would be as cheerful in your talons and even fewer griffons.”
“Oh hogwash,” she throws a lazy talon against your arm, “They wouldn’t know what true joy is if they landed in it face first. You see, Anon dear, those griffons don’t know what truly matters. They spend too much time thinking of the bits in their pocket or the hours of each day. They, confuse what they want with what they need, and are even more so to what they hold dear. They are poor poor griffons, I pity them.”
“So what do you hold dear, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Her smile only grows wider as you continue to ascend the steps, her weight pressing up against you as her legs begin to tire, a physical woe that never seems to bring her down. “For a while? A piece of bread, warmth stolen by the night. A sip of water brought in by the evening rain. Ever since my hatchling left the nest… I had hoped she might leave for good, to find a better life, but you see, dear, I didn’t know what I wanted. When the sun had fallen and a familiar stranger slipped through my door with a fresh loaf beneath her wing, it wasn’t the bread that brought tears to my eyes. My hatchling, my little girl, had come home. What do I hold dear? Gilda. I want her to be happy. I’m sure her father would feel the same.”
You hold the question in your throat and bite your tongue. There are some things you do ask, and some things you don’t. Instead you turn back to the path ahead and immediately regret it as you’re not even half way there. Maybe if you look back? Nope, no that isn’t good at all. If there’s a silver lining to this stairway to hell it’s that you actually seem to be getting warmer the further you go. Then again, it is going to hell so…
“What’s on your mind, dear?” Oh me? Nothing. Just trying not to ask a very personal and, at least to a griffon, inappropriate question. “Don’t be afraid of a little old griffon like me.” You aren’t, but the two shoveling snow back there do. A sparkle shines from her eye as she works out what you were going to ask. “You wanted to know more about her father?” she whispers, thank god, “I’d be careful asking that question. Gilda can be… tempered.”
“That’s Gilda for you,” you joke lightly with a nod. “It’s just that- Gilda never talked about him. I know that males leave their children with their mother, but they usually come back, don’t they?” What are you saying, Anon? Shut up and let it go. It’s a stupid question. “Forgive me, it’s an inappropriate question. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s quite alright.” Yeah, right. “Truly, my dear. I loved her father, and to remember the days we had spent together only makes these passing days brighter knowing that he will always be with me. He was a truly handsome griffon, much as I’m sure you would be if you were lucky enough.” You blush and let her continue. “I can remember the black of his feathers, darker than the night and yet they could almost shine an ocean’s blue under the right light. You could tell by looking at him that he was a warrior, the way his shoulders stood firm… but, oh there was that but, his chest never stood quite as high. Yes, he was a shy one, just like his daughter, though you best not remind the girl of that.”
“She’s nearly knocked me out for less,” you both manage a breathed laugh as you continue to ascend, more and more of Griselda’s weight passing to your own, “Please.”
“Oh he was a smart one too, came from a proper nest up in these parts, given a proper education. He never let it get to him though, he didn’t like how others looked at those that flaunted their position. Every griffon in Aviaris wanted to be on his shoulder, but my future partner? No, that wouldn’t do at all. We were alike the two of us. We were young and even for all the smarts between us we didn’t have a clue about the world.”
“To be fair, no one in this world does.”
Griselda merely smiles at the statement, “I think he would agree with you, Anon. To- to my dismay, our days were not meant to last. You have seen Gilda’s mark, that of our class. Her father, his was that of a higher breed of griffon, so they say. He had to make a choice between me or his family and their honor.” When you look back at Griselda you find that everlasting smile left vacant and hollow. “Family. Not many knew this about him, but he would cry at times like these. He did so the night before he left, damn near drowned me he did.”
You can tell she was trying to say it jokingly but she herself seems to be adversely affected by the memory, heavy moisture building in her eyes. “He left the next day and that was the last time I ever saw him. You see, Anon, when the one you love makes a choice the most you can do is support them in it, even if you despise it with all your heart.” Griselda wipes a tear from her eye and then her smile returns, the true smile that infects your own, “At least he gave me a final gift. My little hatchling. Her father left to protect his family, and I will do the same for our daughter.” Her talons are digging into you now, even if they don’t hurt you know it’s the most she can muster in her condition, and that means something. Her head moves to your side as she lets herself silently weep upon you, and all you can do is wrap an arm around her and wait.
Eventually she stops, thankfully, you’re sure your blanket wouldn’t work as well as an icicle. “Oh, I’m sorry dear, I shouldn’t be letting myself go on you on account of him. I don’t regret the times we spent together, no matter how much I cry I know he did his own fair share.”
“Have you ever thought about talking to him, letting him know about his daughter?”
With a single question her face turns pale, even the yellow of her beak seems to fade, “Her father is dead. I’m sure he kept tabs on her but… There won’t be a family reunion in this life, Anon.”
“If it’s alright, how did he pass away?”
She raises a foreleg, your every instinct to turn away as she exposes the sagging flesh of her leg, how her bones have thinned and feathers lost their sheen. “It was just on the onset when we met. Neither of us knew we had it. What I did know is that the fates were on our side as our hatchling was spared.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” You bow your head, knowing all too well how it feels to lose someone you care about. “I never knew my mother and never really had a chance to know my father. Child Protective Services didn’t give me much of a chance.”
With a raise of her brow you understand she doesn’t have a clue what you’re talking about, it being Earth stuff and all.
“Government took me away from my father when I was young. According to them I wasn’t being raised in a ‘suitable environment.’ Saltwater fish in a freshwater pond.”
Nothing still? Eh, it’s alright. She’s not required to know the intricacies of your life’s baggage. Then again, when her talons loosen up and are replaced with a light pat, you think the message got through. “You turned out alright.”
Back up the steps you both take a long look at Gilda and the minotaur by her side and share a sense of relief… until you see how many steps are left. “They need an escalator.”
”Excuse me, dear?”
Oh nothing. Just another Earth thing that was never meant to be. By the time you get to the top you don’t just have a griffon on your arm, she’s damn near on your back, and by near, you reckon if she was any closer she’d be a conjoined twin. Thank god you listened to Iron Will about getting some cardio every now and then; else you’d be spewing your guts on the royal courtyard right about… now.
Griselda dismantles her hold on you and it hurts to see her legs tremble as she resituates herself, then again, your own limbs can’t handle much more. Guess you missed leg day. A pair of guards led by a luxurious looking griffon whom you don’t recognize comes to meet your party, a hardened scowl upon his face, “What is the meaning of this intrusion? The High Roost has been closed from the ‘masses’ until further notice. Return to your homes. I would hate for the guard to escort you.”
You can’t help but feel sick at how he says that with such disgust, his own people and they’re nothing more than rabble to him. “I’m sure they’re welcome any other time,” you mock knowingly under your breath.
“We’re here for the funeral,” Gilda speaks up motioning you over so you can hand him the invite, “If that isn’t too much to ask. We’d hate to impose.”
You and her share a smile and hidden fist-talon bump as he looks it over, “I see. Everything- appears to be in order,” the annoyance in his tone only makes his tears sweeter. “Guard! See them to Avia’s Peak. I assume you will mind yourselves,” his eyes noting both Iron Will and yourself, “This is Gryphonnia, keep your own customs subdued.”
“We’re guests and you think you can-” Gilda starts to raise her voice before you step in.
“We abide by your law, sir. Allow your lips silence and the land peace, I believe a griffon once said that.”
“An educated one,” he smirks with the first ounce of respect you’ll ever see from a griffon of his ‘status.’ “Make certain you don’t cause trouble. The Taurine are not known for their discretion.” This pretentious son of a-
“A just analysis given their past history of civil unrest and the equally dismaying policies that only seem to promote such behavior, but please rest assured, our companion is one of sound mind and body, clearly.”
“Clearly,” he agrees eyeing the minotaur who could no doubt toss the noble griffon around like a set of nunchucks. “Good tidings to you.”
“And you, sir.” With a graceful bow you follow a second set of guards inside, each of you welcoming the warmth as you enter.
“Some habits are best not forgotten,” Griselda repeats her advice from before and you just nod, head turned back as two certain griffons meet the same reception as you. One decides to push past. Tsk tsk, big mistake. All it takes is one swift chop beneath his beak from a guard and he’s tumbling back down the steps, his partner flying down to grab him.
The noble shakes his heads just as a guard closes the entrance behind you. At least that means not everyone here is on Rinn’s payroll. Maybe you’ll last a bit longer than you thought. Leading you down an unfamiliar corridor the guards lead to another doorway inside which is-
“You’ve got to be fucking me,” you whine and rub your aching legs, each step you count just more reason for you to have stayed in Canterlot.
Iron Will looks back with that bullying smile, “You’re not tired, are you? I could give you a lift…” The sound of chuckling comes from your rear, the guards certainly enjoying themselves the jerks. Back home you’d just ignore them and continue on… That actually seems like a good idea.
“Griselda, if you would please,” your extend your arm for the lady, you gentleman you.
”At least buy her dinner first,” Gilda once again chides you, as is her way.
“Please now, Gilda, I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”
“I’m sure I could find a couple things you could be.” You’re sure she could. Oh god, why does there have to be so many stairs? You hate this city.
~~~
You cringe as the door to Avia’s peak swings open, your entire body clenched in preparation for grueling winds and harsh weather. “If I never see another set of stairs it’ll be too soon.” You crack open an eye at Gilda’s mutterings as she steps outside in peace, the only weather that seems to knock her off her feet is the light drizzle of snow and it doesn’t do a very good job.
“Maybe you’d like to join Anon then,” Iron huffs happily. Of course, he’d be the only one of us who enjoys this. “I’ve got room for all three of you. Maybe then I can work on my glutes.”
“I’m sure Gilda will enjoy that- OW!” You jump back in the door as Gilda lays on your arm. “Jeez, it was just a joke Gilly.”
"I said don’t call me that.” She’s getting flustered isn’t she? Oh how the tables have turned.
You’re about to risk another hit when Griselda decides to join you, “Gilly, now what would I have to say about this?”
It’s almost fascinating how she can go from irritating aggressor to ashamed child in a matter of seconds, “Pick on ponies my own size.”
“Hey! I’m taller than you.”
“Then count yourself lucky, Slim.” There’s the Gilda you know and love. “So… is that him?” All four of you turn to the mountain’s peak a few hundred feet away as it juts slightly forward over the city. Crowding the edge are the other attendees, all noble or highborn if their fur cloaks and the draft of pungent cologne is any indication. Each stands away from the center piece, a row of logs stacked accordingly with him, the King, resting atop the timber in dead silence. Silence would be enough.
A bell sounds out from the tower behind you, looks like you made it just in time. Higher up the building you can see a lookout post encased in glass, an orange glow emanating from within. You take a couple more steps out to get a better view inside, and it’s just enough to see the other him, Rinn. He’s just as you remember, trimmed feathers, warm gaze and you can almost feel that comfortable aura you once had in his presence, now replaced with one of dread. If you go down, he’s going down with- “Hurry up, Slim, I’m not waiting on you.”
You’ll get to him later, you sprint back over the others who’ve already made it about halfway there. Another bell, this one different, more tuned or- sharp than the other. Looking back to the King you find a set of guards… heading your way. You look back to the tower and this time, Rinn isn’t looking at the funeral, he’s looking at you. “Guys, I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t wait up.” Iron grabs your shoulder to stop you but he only manages to graze it. “Don’t worry, Big Iron. I’m going to make it.”
Gilda and her mother share a worried glance, but you and Iron understand. He nods as the guards reach you, “Sir, can you please come with us?”
“Why do I have the feeling that’s not a request?”
”Because it isn’t, sir.” You’ve been hit enough times for one day, you’d rather not risk another. “Lead on then.”
Back inside the tower you cringe at yet another set of stairs, thankfully though this one you can see the top of. When you reach the top, your heart stalls for but a second as you stand before Rinn yet again. The last time you saw him was in Canterlot after his failed meeting with Celestia. Back then, you were safe in the company of the royal guard and Equestrian law. The time before that, you were alone with him and a handful of griffons. There wasn’t a law you could cite that would’ve protected you then.
Now, here you are in Aviaris, surrounded by Rinn and his men, now under Gryphonnian law whose rules and regulations are as foreign as the witty comparison that eludes you. ”Acheem,” one of your escorts clears his throat, obviously, “My lord.”
“You may return to your station, my thanks to you.” He’s remarkably calm as he should be. This is a griffon whose every move was to get you here, and now you are. “Please, someone get him a proper cloak to replace whatever cloth that is he’s wearing.” He finally turns to you with a cocky smile, “We stand at Avia’s peak after all, only the priests and griffons of wealth or nobility are welcome. Which are you, old friend?”
“I’m not your friend,” you spit back at him as the harsh wool blanket upon your shoulders is replaced with that of fur-lined silk. You guess he wants you comfortable before they drive the knife in.
“Yes, our paths have not yet marched in unison though I do recall giving you such a chance.” Oh you remember. Right before his thugs left you beaten and bruised in an alley. “A most regrettable decision, one I hope you may forget in time.”
“Fat chance.” The gall of this griffon. Of all the things he’s done to you, he thinks you’ll just forget? “What do you want?”
He cocks a brow and shakes his head, “Now I don’t think I appreciate your tone, friend, though I can understand the hostility.”
“Like I said, I’m not your friend.” If only the phrase ‘spitting daggers’ was literal. You take a look around the room, at least four griffons clad in armor, two more beside him cloaked, likely personal guard or some such. “Though it doesn’t look like I could do anything if you persisted. Must be nice pulling all the strings.”
“Is that anger in your voice?” He steps closer slowly, each one timed in his own methodical way, “Or fear trying to pass as anger?”
“Well, like a surly green midget once said, fear leads to anger.” You clench your teeth, balling your hand into a fist in the process, “So I guess it’s a bit of both.”
He smirks looking down at your fist, “You wish to strike me? Risk your own welfare for a chance at revenge?” His eyes look to the floor in thought before returning to you and standing on his hind legs, arms spread open. “I give you this revenge. One punch, risk free.”
One of the hooded griffons turns slightly, “Lord?” At least you’re not the only one whose confused.
“It’s alright. Anon is allowed one, not two or three, one. Go on, Anon, you’ve earned it.” The guards flinch as you move towards Rinn with an inquisitive gaze, scanning him up and down before finally turning off and moving around him to the glass where he once stood. “You seem to have missed me.”
“No, I didn’t.” You look off to see Iron Will at the back of the group, the only one whose eyes are focused on the tower and not the funeral. “If my friend sees me, I have a feeling he’ll be kicking down the door. You don’t want that.”
"We can handle a sole minotaur,” that same hooded figure looks up to you, his golden eyes locked with yours.
“It’s not about what we can handle,” Rinn agrees with you, hopefully for the last time. “It’s about what we choose to handle. Anon is correct and you would do well to learn something from him.” The griffon huffs defiantly but shuts up regardless. “Guard, shut the curtains.”
“I’ll do it. It’ll look better.” You grab hold and bring the two together, your sole reinforcement blind to whatever condition the enemy might inflict upon you. “Done.”
“Very well,” Rinn turns with that disgusting smile, “Now can we return to bis- NUGH!”
Rinn hits the floor, hard, and every talon grabs hold of their weapon but keeps it sheathed. Your hand trembles as a small dribble of blood leaks down your fingers, the blow catching him on his beak rather than his eye as you had intended. He rubs his beak as you move towards him again, your anger burning as you prepare for another hit. “No, Anon.”
With those two words the robed griffon turns and the next thing you know he has your wrist in his grasp. You try to pull a punch against him, the heat of the moment blinding you of reason, but he dodges with ease and twists your arm behind your back, a single buck to your knee and now you’re on the floor, all his weight centered on your spine. “Lord, are you alright?”
Every time you struggle another ping of pain shoots up your arm and spine. “I’m quite alright, quite alright.” You watch Rinn get to his feet, making his way back over to you, still subdued by this griff- Your thoughts leave you as your eyes peer at your assailants paws, now unveiled in his position, which appear to not be paws at all, but hooves. “I told you, Anon, not two or three. Please, release him. His mind has returned to him, no doubt.”
The- whatever he is, pulls you back to your feet, you both sharing a glance, yours being confused and his one of ferocity. “Perhaps I should introduce you both,” Rinn interrupts and softly pulls you away from him. “This is Anon, an old acquaintance and rival who served the Equestrian monarchs. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of him.” He doesn’t need to sound so dejected by it. At least you’re full human and not whatever he is.
“And Anon- Remove your hood, it’s disrespectful,” he chides the griff-pony, ponygriff? Whatever he’s called, he lowers his hood revealing the vibrant gold of his feathers which almost seem to glow in the torchlight. “This is Valore, my protégé and heir to the Golden Crown house, my house. While not one of my clutch I saw to his upbringing. A griffon without equal, one of the few whose name garners support among the people. I have high hopes for him, almost as I did for you.”
“I wouldn’t think a griffon would care to follow… someone like him.”
“If you disrespect me again-” Valore steps forward angrily only to be stopped by Rinn’s hand, “Apologies, my lord.”
“I think it would be best to pay your respects to the King now. Dismissed.” Valore’s eyes lock onto you once more before he leaves, a deep-seeded hate burning in those eye yet you don’t know why it’s directed towards you in particular. Rinn sighs when his ‘protégé’ finally leaves, casting open the curtains to let in some daylight. “You must forgive the boy, he is a stubborn one but fiercely loyal to his country. Your actions against the Gryphonnian Empire along with his distrust of outsiders puts you in a very dangerous position.”
“It’s hard to believe he would distrust outsiders given his heritage.”
“Ah, I thought you might have noticed. Yes, he is not a pure griffon, but a hippogriff. The only one of his kind to my knowledge, but to your point, would you not hold a measure of distrust for your other half if they had left you before birth? Ponies might not sit well in your mind either, had you been born under such circumstances.” You look back at the griffon as he stands there, opening the curtain so that he might quietly observe the landscape, making note of every detail, and you can’t help but think, why? Why did he bring you here?
“What do you want, Rinn? You brought me here, and if you wanted me dead you’d have done it, so why?”
“I could ask you the same question. Why are you here?” Playing coy are we? Ha, it’s just like Rinn to dodge the subject. “Surely you are not here to mourn the loss of our beloved King. It would be… inappropriate.” You look to your feet, half in shame and half because if you look at Rinn in the next five seconds you’re liable to knock him on his ass again. “Right on the beak, was I? It is a shame, and I say that without deception or mockery, that he had to pass in such a way. His service to Gryphonnia was admirable, for a time.”
What would Rinn expect of a King who could hardly stand, his every movement riddling him in pain, forced to hide in his chambers as he slowly rotted away? “Alas, we must put that behind us. With his death behind us I can go forward as planned, to bring Gryphonnia back to its former glory. You can still help me achieve this dream.”
“This kingdom’s glory was brought by strong leader and a people who supported them, not Senators and shady dealings.” The very idea disgusts you and you make it clear in your tone of voice. “Plus, I’d rather not follow you around as another pawn calling you ‘lord.’ There’s nothing lordly about you.”
“Anon, for all your knowledge you know so little of our people,” he chuckles and turns to you. “Griffons follow only the strong, yes. In the past this has meant warriors and commanders, yes, but if there is one thing they follow even closer still is blood. For all my maneuvering the people would not hear my call, as Stormguard still drew breath. Blood, but now his line is no more. Reuben would be the next in line and his path, much like yours, did not coincide with my own. Rivot, on the other hand,” he points out to the crowd, that backstabbing coward somewhere in the mix, “Is much easier to persuade. As Vice General his armies are now my own, but his lack of experience makes him a poor choice to lead this Empire. I, on the other hand, am the head of the Golden Crown, the most prominent and influential house in Aviaris. The griffons might choose one of the lower houses, the Coppertails, the Lion Hides, perhaps even the Yellow Scythe farmers,” he can’t help but chuckle at the last part. “None carry my influence or name. None can command the army that camps outside this city as we speak.”
Standing up on his hind legs he wraps an arm around you, the act taking all your will not to treat his beak to another pounding. “You see, Anon. I am the lord of Aviaris, and soon, after the storm passes, I will be King.”
“It must be nice being able to sleep sound without your conscience weighing you down,” you reply in disgust, shrugging off his arm in the process. “Not every griffon is so lucky.”
You stand there quietly for a time before Rinn finds the time to speak up again, “Do you see the storm down below? It’s quite magnificent.”
“And I’m sure the army is just loving it.”
“Do you know why those griffons have to suffer in their tents?”
“I’d guess because you didn’t let them in the city.”
"No. It’s because that storm is our beloved King’s doing. The time came when Windigos set our land in an unending winter, but this many millennia ago, just after your Equestria came to be. We were leaderless but not content to die so we readied ourselves for war, to defeat this menace so that we might not starve as our crops were lost by the acre. Stormguard’s house, the strongest at the time, sought a different solution. They braved the most violent storm where the ice spirits flew and cast their winter, but instead of driving a spear through their heart they brought hope for peace. They stood off against the devils as our people died by the thousands, all to prove that we would not yield to them, for we are griffons. The winds subsided and their house returned, Windigos at their back, but what did our ancestors do? They allowed this peace, they crowned the griffon who would allow such a threat to remain at our doorstep for generations. How many die to the winter’s grace? Too many, and for too long. There will be no more peace, and once I am King those demonic equines will no longer remain safe behind Stormguard's desolate house. This is but one travesty I will soon correct.”
W-wow. You never heard that one before. Rinn must really believe what he’s doing is right, that he’s helping his people. How can he be so wrong? “Windigos feed off of anger and hate. Your ancestors must’ve known that. All you’ll be doing is condemning more of your people to die.”
“Then the monsters join us with a full stomach. Each year the Windigos return with their winter but this one is stronger than any before it. They know of his death, and I will not allow them to strike first.”
“You know, back home where I’m from, we have a concept called Karma. When you’re good, good things happen to you. When you’re bad, you’re not so lucky. I have a feeling you fall in with the latter.”
“A construct to enable good behavior? Smart in concept but its faults shine through in practice. With winter's return Aviaris has at last stood against the tide. Griffons find warmth in their homes, their streets free of ice and snow, food reserves standing full. All of this I have done and yet your 'Karma'
would allow the blizzard to grow in strength?"
“Well, we also have a saying back home. Karma’s a bitch… I think I’ll be leaving now, Rinn.” The griffon takes a long hard look outside before finally nodding, the guards escorting you back downstairs. Opening the door you’re thrust back outside into the cold, Rinn keeping watch from his tower. You tighten your new cloak around yourself and jog back to your friends. Maybe you’ll make it after all.
You jog back to the outside of the crowd, locking hands with Iron Will who’s a bit more than relieved to see you as your hand begins to cramp from the strength of his grip. "I see you made it."
"Really? Couldn't tell. Gah," you cringe as he accidently stretches the small gash on your knuckle, "Easy there.” Before he can blow his cover you tell him you’re alright and start explaining what went on behind those curtains.
“And he let you hit him? That doesn’t sound right.” You were just as surprised as he is when you got that offer.
“I know, but I could tell he was serious. If there’s a little piece of his heart left he exposed right then and there.” You continue moving up through the pack earning the ire of each griffon you pass. Thankfully most of it is directed at just Iron Will and yourself and not Gilda and her mother. It’s easy to look over class and status when the difference between them and you are species apart. That hate or xenophobic outlook is typically played down in everyday life. You mean, they’re not overtly racist. It’s more the ‘higher than thou’ attitude. In other words, griffons are just assholes. Guess you kinda already knew that one though.
“I’m more surprised by his offer. Am I the only one who finds that strange? There has to be something else going on, there just has to.”
“If you knew that he wanted you here, would you have come? When your foe says hi, keep him in your eye.”
“Did you just come up with that, because it shows?”
”Hmph,” he snorts at your critique, “I’d like to see you do better.” Even in war, love blooms… No homo. The only thing you can do is just roll your eyes and keep ahead of him, making way to Griselda at the front of the line while Gilda stands beside the King to pay her respects.
“How’s she doing,” you ask and slip your cloak over her shoulders seeing as how she needs it more than you.
“It’s hard for her, but she can make it through. Gilda’s always been strong.” Well if her punches are any indication…
“I get that. Trying to cope with someone’s loss is never easy.”
“Not in that way, dear. Aviaris isn’t her home. It hasn’t been since she was a little girl. We expect her to mourn, yet she doesn’t know why.”
“You mourn out of respect, I guess.”
You never went to a funeral before but you’re pretty sure you got the gist of it. “Why would she respect a king she doesn’t know? To her, if- if it was hmm, who’s the nice pony I’ve heard of? Tall with a mane to die for.”
“Celestia,” you answer with a smile, almost picturing her in your mind, “but I wouldn’t go having jealous feelings now. Iron told me you were quite the catch yourself.”
“Oh, please, stop,” she feigns embarrassment before returning to her topic. “I think, if it were Celestia who had died, and I hope by the stars above she lives many years more, but if it were her, Gilda would understand. Equestria’s her home. Celestia’s her mother.”
“Hey,” you cut off that line of thinking right there, “No one can replace a griffon’s parent. Gilda will always love you.”
“Have I ever said, but you worry about the most crazy of things. A young thing like you, even I didn’t understand the world, but you will,” she winks, “One day.” You nod and look back to Gilda whose squinting down at the King’s body, her face expressionless as it is with most others, but you can see what her mother was talking about. She knows he’s dead, but she doesn’t feel the same as the others. You could say that in some ways she’s more pony than griffon, but if you did, you’re pretty sure she’d slug you for it. That, children, is why you try to keep your mouth shut.
Before long Gilda moves off outside the crowd, joining with Iron as he stands watch. “Well, I guess it’s my turn.”
“Would you like me to come with you?” You ask slightly out of desperation.
“Oh I think I can handle myself.”
“I mean,” you interrupt her again, a huff from a disgruntled griffon coming from your back, “Can I come with you? I don’t know the customs or-” She just answers with that grin of hers and offers her arm which you quickly grab hold of when you see her other limbs begin to tremble. “Thanks, I owe you.”
Your breath begins to shorten as you near the King, the air in your lungs damn near freezing when you’re looking down at him, his armor covering the majority of his body, the only signs of his illness being those sunken eyes of his, now shut closed. From the hem of his neck above his armor you can see his skin sag, the black of his feathers faded and frayed, but despite even this, the silver crown upon his head commands respect.
So this is it? Here you are, the big reason for returning to Aviaris in the first place, besides Gilda that is. “Do I- Do I say anything or…?” You try and drift off for help from Griselda who’s serving as your PR department right now. Strangely enough, she doesn’t answer you. Instead she grips the side of the log platform and pushes herself up just as Gilda and the others had done, but it’s odd, there’s a strength you didn’t see. And her eyes- She has emotion, a quality you like to see in others, for the most part, but that deep gaze she has is almost overwhelming. To think if she was directing that sort of energy in the right place she could power a small city.
Her cheeks rise with her smile as she just- watches. Her reaction is almost the complete opposite of Gilda’s. “Griselda?”
“You may speak if you wish, each mourns in their own way and so you must find your own.” Alright then, well, you’ll let her mourn her way. Okay uh, let’s do this. Bowing your head, you decide to keep your voice below a whisper as to allow Griselda her time. “Sire- I mean, Stormguard. If I recall you liked it better when I put my formalities aside so I’ll hold you to that. It’s Anon, we met once before about a year or so ago and it was only for a few moments so… Ha, how am I supposed to prepare for this? It’s- I don’t know.”
You pause and look around at the crowd, eventually spotting Valore staring back at you in contempt. Beside him you can see Rivot, the bastard child of Reuben, the last Vice General. While the others of his race try and keep their emotion hidden from sight, he’s not so clever and can’t seem to hide his smug grin. The female guard beside him is more in tune with Valore, but instead of looking at you she’s directing her anger towards Rivot. At least you’re not the only one who finds his behavior appalling. Gah, what are you thinking. Stormguard. Stormguard.
“Sorry, I was uh- Nevermind. I guess the easiest way to go would be saying I’m sorry. I failed you, I failed you and Celestia both. It was a stupid decision going out that night. Every bone in my body cried out for me to listen, but I ignored them. Maybe it was for that reason I went out that night, I don’t know. I can’t change the past and I know you can’t forgive me verbally, but I hope- No no, I don’t expect you to forgive me, verbally or otherwise. That won’t make me feel any better and, despite how selfish this sounds, it’s my main reason for coming besides my friends. I guess I just wanted you to understand. I’m not perfect, I make mistakes. I’m sorry we’re here because of it.”
A strained cough whips your head around, one of the griffons waiting behind you getting rather impatient. This was rather anticlimactic, but you don’t know what you were expecting. Santa Claus? Another cough, but wait! This one is joined with the tapping of his talon. Douche. You didn’t get nearly as much time as the others… That being said, perhaps it’d better not to cause a scene, especially at a funeral. People get haunted from that type of stuff.
“Uhh, Griselda-”
“Shh,” she hushes you, still smiling. “Just another minute dear.” You fidget as the tapping gets faster and the coughs get louder, so much that others are beginning to take notice.
You try and smile at him but that works about as well one can expect and with one more cough you can tell he’s had it. “We don’t have all-”
He only gets in those four words before Griselda’s head whips around towards him and in that moment you could see a little pee dribble out of nobility, a sight you’d rather not see again. Her beak quivers, still looking at the noble before returning to the departed, a tear running down her cheek. “These griffons,” she finally speaks up, “After all he had done for us…”
"He deserved better." Wrapping your arm around her you lead her off before anything worse comes to.
She spares the King one last glance, "To think we share same fate."
"Stormguard was strong, so are you. Let's get back to Gilda, okay?"
"I think- I think I need to rest." It has to be hard for a griffon to see another of her own kind, her own King for that matter, afflicted with her same ailment and see its final toll.
"Alright, let's get going."
"After," she stops you and smiles. "I still have some strength left in these bones." If she can stay, so can you. Wiping the tear from Griselda's cheek you join your friends and wait for the funeral's final moments.
After a short wait and the final griffons had mourned in whatever way it is that they do, the bell rings one last time and a priest of some sort approaches the altar. Reaching into his robe he retrieves a flask and begins to circle the King, stopping every other step to gently douse him with the liquid. Throughout the process you hear him chant to the winds as they only seem to hasten and the snow, thicken. He laps twice in total before coming to a halt at the edge closest to you and rests his head against the King’s.
“Griselda,” you lean over and whisper, “What’s he doing?”
“He- is preparing the King’s soul to rest. A griffon’s soul is stubborn and will remain even when…” Griselda phases out for a moment before returning to herself. “The water, from the underground spring that fed the Elder Roost, is said to ease the spirit and allow them to return home to their ancestors.” Yeah, you know what happened to the Roost. You’re honestly surprised they didn’t piss in that spring, considering the Roost is Aviaris’s front door.
“Stormguard,” the priest begins with a silencing wave of his talon, “of house Stonewall, King of Aviaris, Heart of Gryphonnia, warden of the eastern mountains, scourge of the western plains. We allow your spirit passage, peace be with you on your return to your house, to your ancestors and to the fallen kings before you.” A second priest joins him with slow ceremonial steps, this one bearing a velvet pillow in his talons, a golden cloth folded neatly in its center. "Allow yourself peace and depart from you all possessions held in your worldly name. For as you prepare to leave this world, we shall prepare you for the next.”
Slipping the crown from Stormguard’s head, the first priest rests the silver circlet upon the pillow, the second priest veiling it in one swift motion. ”The crown of Aviaris, no longer in your name, shall pass to your worthy successor as it was once passed to you. Rank and status holds no favor in the world beyond, but all else shall join with you on your journey.” Your eyes follow the second priest as he retreats into the crowd, stopping on Rinn who’s seemed to have seamlessly melded into the crowd as though he had never left. It’s interesting to note how even he cannot mask how his eyes bear upon the crown with envy. If there is a weakness of his it’s his hunger, his greed. All that talk about helping Aviairs… He only wants to help himself.
“Your armor shall shield you from your foes long fallen,” the priest continues with his prayer. “The holy waters grant you their strength and that of the Elder Roost itself.” Griselda got that right. “Trust not your old senses, but follow that of the wind as it shall guide you home. With water we grant you strength, with armor we grant you protection, with the breeze we grant you guidance, but with fire…” Raising his talons he signals the two griffons of office, Rivot, Vice General, and Rinn, Senate Overseer and soon-to-be King. Each granted a torch, they walk to the altar and wait on either side. “We shall free your spirit of this earthly plain and allow its flame to lift you upon your journey. Swift wings, Stormguard, House Stonewall.”
Griselda’s talons tighten around your arm when the priest nods, the two griffons lowering their torches to the logs at the altar’s base before stepping back as the fire begins to spread. You pull Griselda closer to yourself as well, the king masked in an inferno. It’s only when the smoke begins to form do you hear the faint sound of cawing coming from the city below. “He was their King,” Griselda speaks up almost able to read your thoughts, “They will mourn for him.”
“Good,” you look to each of the nobles, still stone-faced and unfeeling. “Someone has to.” A final bell tolls to signal your departure and you join the crowd as they make their way to the stairs just as the blizzard seems to encroach the funeral site. You take a look back through the roaring snow and to the remaining priests who remain by the fire.
For a moment, and you don’t know if it’s your rapidly approaching hunger or the maybe even the loss of blood flow to your eyes, but you swear you see movement in the clouds above. It’s all in your head Anon, you turn back and continue towards the stairs, pausing when you hear a whinny. No, you don’t swear you did, you did hear a whinny. You’re about to turn around again when Gilda’s talon pulls you by the tie, “If I spend another minute on this bucking mountain because you keep stopping...” You’d laugh, but right now? Not a good move.
~~~
Back downstairs huh? You take a look at the fields outside the city walls where the blizzard has finally begun to break up, a thousand dotted torches at the least now visible to you. That’s Rinn’s army alright, or Rivot’s army if you wanted to be technical. Fighting Windigos… Rinn’s smarter than that. You don’t fight a force like that and expect to win, then again, if anyone knew how to do it…
The crowd begins to shuffle down the steps to their homes that stand just below the royal courtyard and home of the king, although a small amount instead stay inside, taking a left leading deeper into the palace. “It’s a feast,” Griselda reads your mind. “For us, there is no better time to celebrate life than in the face of death.” Oooh a feast, you practically salivate at the thought. The last time you had a proper meat was in these halls. The smells and taste… Calm down, little Anon, save your strength for Twilight.
“Celebrating life by killing animals to eat? Sounds good to me,” you rub your belly in envy.
“Anon?” You turn your head and instantly regret it as you find a nice contingent of guards there to meet you. Five in total. One for each of you, plus an extra for Iron Will.
“Yes, can I help you?” You chuckle nervously until Iron Will puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’m not in trouble am I?”
The griffon smiles and yet that doesn’t give you any comfort. Demons always seem to lurk behind that charming smile. “No sir, the dungeon’s content as is.” Well that’s good news. “However, we couldn’t help but notice that you weren’t attending the feast. Surely you have tasted griffon hospitality once before.”
“More than once,” you reply, absentmindedly rubbing your arm. “Unfortunately our journey has been exhausting and I must decline.”
His cheeks never drop as he leans in, “Certain parties say otherwise.” Why can’t things be easy? At least mopping was a low risk job. “Shall we escort you and your party?”
“No, that’s fine,” you wave him off with a sigh. Turning back to the entrance you puff up your chest with a few ounces of regret. “I know the way well enough.” With that the guards depart to the stairway leading down to the gate. Of course they would, that’s exactly where you want to go and he knows it. Here you were thinking you had your fill of Rinn and his schemes. “Have you ever dined with the nobles, Griselda? ‘Cause you’re about to.” Eyes burning you stroll back into the hornet’s nest. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Hey! Slow down Anon,” Gilda calls from your rear but you are not in the mood. You want this done and you aren’t going to stop. “Anon!” Her talon pulls back on your shoulder but you shrug it off and keep going. “So that’s how it’s going to be?” Once again she pulls back on you, but this time when you try to shrug it she presses all her weight on your chest, shoving you back against a table and the wall behind it, “Hey! I’m talking to you.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell,” you roll your eyes, catching the approach of two more guards. “Oh great, now look at what you’ve done.”
“Is there a problem here?” They ask mere moments before Iron Will moves between the four of you.
“We’ve got things under control here, don’t we Gilda?”
“We will in a damn minute,” she snaps back in her usual way before returning to you with all her Gryphonian fury. “Just who in the fuck do you think you are?”
“We’re good here, thanks,” you wave off the two guards before things really take a darker turn. To be fair that might actually be an improvement. At least you’d know where you’d be going and which end would be taking the plowing… Darn rape jokes, they get you every time.
“Listen here, pipsqueak-” Has she used that one before? Probably, considering you could fill a damn book with all the ones she’s used so far. “-You tired and want to leave, fine. I want to get out of here too, but you don’t take off and leave my mom behind. There are some things I can’t take-”
“Cut the bullshit, Gil. If you really cared that much you wouldn’t have left her behind when you came charging after me.” She grimaces but Iron is already backtracking to find her, “You- Don’t you ever fucking imply that. Actually no, you go ahead. Please, that would make my day.”
“Fuck you, Big Bird. I’m not your damn puppet- Guh!” You hold your stomach as her talon pulls back. “Oh look, wave to the guards Gilda,” you manage to wheeze out.
The guards finally turn their attention back to the dining hall which is when you decide to knee Gilda in her exposed belly, the griffon stumbling backwards and letting you go at long last. “You son of a-”
“Call my mom a bitch and we’ll see what happens,” you bark back at her and rub your throat.
Bitch… That may well describe her but you’ll be damned if Gilda gets away with calling her that. “Hehe, where’s this Anon been hiding?”
“Same Anon, just in no mood for your shit right now.”
“Fuck you, Limpy. Who shit in your stocking?” You will always regret telling her about Christmas and coal, but she has to be blind deaf and dumb not to know why you’re peeved.
“Why am I stressed? Let’s go over the facts, Bird Brain. I got fired from my job,” you start counting off on your fingers to accentuate your points. “My girlfriend is now apparently a princess, a little bit jealous about that one. I tagged along with -you- so you could attend a funeral in the one place I never wanted to go back to. Did I mention I’m missing Twilight’s coronation because of this little adventure? Oh yeah, I did and you acted all woe is fucking me about it like I was the shit friend! ME! You belittle me every day and I stick around because unlike all the other friends you’ve driven away I actually give a damn you unfeeling cunt!”
“What’s going on-” Oh you don’t have time for this shit.
“Back off, Birdman, before I dirty that armor of yours.”
You see Gilda giving you the eye telling you to back down, not in an authoritarian sort of way but more out of concern. Too bad your blood’s running hot. “Watch your tone!”
“Fuck you. Go back to your fucking corner so you can spy on me later. That’s another thing, Gilda! You bring me here and guess what, I was somewhat okay with that! I had shit to do in the city anyways and this gave me an excuse but nooo, nothing can ever be so simple… HEY! I said back to your fucking corner or do I need to draw you a god damn map?”
Gritting your teeth you force yourself to calm down, unclenching your fist which has grown quite firm in your ranting. “What do you mean by that?” She still doesn’t know. Fuck it, you’re a patient guy. You’ve dealt with enough shit to line a sewer and you don’t seem to have room for more of hers.
“Ask the big guy. I’m getting some damn food.”
Gilda doesn’t pursue you and you don’t blame her. Some of the things you said- They weren’t called for even in anger. See, kids? This is why you don’t hold all this shit inside. It’s bad for your bladder and your relationships. You give the guards at either side of the door a firm glance only to be met by a pair of foreheads, their eyes cast to the ground in shame.
“My eyes are up here, boys. Pfft, you call yourselves griffons." The griffons in your books put these to shame. Romanticism or awe struck writing aside, these folk aren't of the same breed, not by a long shot. Rinn, there standing at the tables head while the nobles carefully pick their way at the food bought by that of their dead kin, he is one of the few that even slightly resemble the griffons of old. His thoughtful yet unyielding stare as he scans the nobles before him, the way his brow quivers ever so slightly in irritation at the manner the nobles as they pay closer attention to the cleanliness of their talons than the elements around them, namely you.
Yes, he sees you and you see him. He still wants you here, fine, you're more than happy to oblige, but he should know better than to think you'll go down easy. Who says you can't enjoy some griffon hospitality before your hosts shove a knife in your back? No one, that's who. Slipping between two limp-wristed griffons you lean forward and rip a prime chicken leg from the talons of a griffon across the table, the table silencing as he tries to stare you down, but there isn't a pair of eyes in the world that can pry that drumstick from your fingers.
At the other end of the table slurping down a fatty strip of pork and a pint in the same go, Rivot interrupts the silence. Not with words of course, but the sickly gulping of his throat followed by a belch. Delightful. "Food's for the young," you gnaw off a bite as your friends take their own seat beside you, Iron Will's hulking mass casting a shadow across the noble-griffon, the name a description of title only.
There's nothing noble about them, not even Rinn. Just greed, deceit and enough pride to sink the Titanic. Unsinkable they said. Nice job marketing. Each bite you take is as savory as the last and oh do you make it count. Delicious. "Oh, did you want some?"
"My fellow griffons please," Rinn bows his head at the end of the table as he begins to dissolve the situation you had started. "Of all the times to-"
"Anon!" Oh dear lord the oaf speaks. Rivot finishes the last of his mug before slamming it down on the table, "Anon of Equestria, the two leg of the west! My my, brothers and sisters we stand before legend!" Rinn could melt steel with that gaze but he keeps his mouth shut perhaps in hope that the notably drunk Vice General will get the message. He doesn't.
"If I'm a legend you're an Ursa. I prefer your griffon form myself."
"Ahaha! Come here, it's been too long," he motions you over. Forcing a smile you take one last bite and drop the leg, watching from the corner of your eye as the griffon you stole it from fails to grab it from across the table, "Hurry now, hurry. I want to get a closer look at you."
"Your sight seems rather poor for having the eyes of an eagle," you poke fun at him, knowing all too well how his temper flares at the slightest fuel you add to his fire. "A 'general' of your renown must be more lion than eagle." A compliment with a taunt? Eh, not your best work but it'll make do.
"Just as ugly as I remember," he bellows heartily before raising his empty mug in anger, "Rose! Another!" You recognize the griffon he calls out to, she stood beside him at the funeral as well. It appears her disapproval of him then is still as prevalent as ever as she snatches the mug from his extended hand and struts off. A griffon who dislikes griffons. Where can you get her number?
"My brothers! Anon! Gaze upon him in despair, the two leg who stole the serpent's tongue. We hold no love for you, friend." And here he calls you friend, much like Rinn did but with enough alcohol in his system to kill two horses a small dove. "But, hey, let's be honest, who does these days?"
Hold your tongue, Anon. It's one thing if the griffons see you get mistreated, it's another to attack their Vice General outright. "Please, Rivot, at least someone did love me."
A few hushed whispers and laughs reach your ear leading to a smug grin but Rivot doesn't pay it notice, if he even did at all. "You are a funny- Hmm, what are you exactly?"
"Human."
"Plumber! Now I remember," he smacks you on the shoulder and pulls you in, the nobles outright laughing with him this time. The only ones who remain silent are Rinn, Valore at his side and your friends... and the Rose griffon who just got back with a fresh pint. "This here is a plumber who's been around. Got a little entourage over there too. C'mon plumber, give them an intro," he takes a hefty swig mid sentence, "We don't judge."
"It was janitor actually," you pull yourself out of his grasp before you get tipsy from secondhand drinking, which is an actual thing by the way. Not the tipsy part though. "Ex-janitor, factor two. Makes for quite the story, but enough about me. Iron Will, the minotaur with abs of steel. Gilda, her stomach's as strong as her arm. Ask me how I know."
"Well how-"
"Turn of phrase, going on... Griselda, the kindest griffon I've ever met and pretty sure just the nicest in general."
"Hey!" he snaps drunkenly, "I'm a nice griffon. I introduced you to two friends of yours, didn't I?" Your stomach wrenches at the memory but you keep your smile. How could you forget about them?
"Pain and misery, if I recall," your arm twitches as you glance at his talons. They look so much better on the floor and not in your gut. The table erupts into laughter once more on Rivot's cue, each unaware of the torment he put you through with those two words and the black depths in which that joke's humor lies.
At last Rinn speaks up having given the Vice General his time to shine, "Rivot, Anon must tire from his journey. It would be best to allow him and his party to retire peacefully."
"Hogwash! This is a time of celebration, and he has more right to celebrate than most." A wave of confusion washes over the table, only a select few knowing what he meant by that. After all, this celebration wouldn't have happened if Stormguard was still alive. "A toast then," Rivot raises his mug, "to the death of royalty!" This time when his laugh calls across the dining hall he finds no griffon willing to join him. That doesn't stop his toast of course. "How do we pass the torch in such times? Drinking of course, ha! Ung, that's good stuff. My old man kept this lot stashed away in the vaults to rot, improved the flavor he said."
"Rest his soul." You figured him the villain in life. Perhaps he still was, only he was a lesser evil, one swallowed by the greed of Rinn and his bastard son.
"Pwah!" He spits upon the floor at the sentiment. "Reuben was an old fool. He lived one lifetime too many. Gryphonnia's armies are in better talons now, younger minds and stronger birth! Hooah!" The guards stationed along the walls rest silently though you catch a few eye rolls. Rivot is one griffon tolerated at best. You're sure if it wasn't for his father's reputation he'd amount to no more than a latrine officer.
"The new overthrow the old and with it all the wisdom once learned. Gaze Leery," you quote mindlessly, a forgotten Pegasus speaking through your voice.
"Yeah yeah, words and filth that cloud the air. Lighten up, the booze is on me! Haha!" You're forced to endure his boasting for another quarter hour while the rest of the griffons return to their idle squabbling. When you manage to mute him out you overhear disputes of commerce, trade relations now stressed by Stormguard's passing, secret alliances between houses as they seek to capitalize on his death.
This land has a dark future and normally you might turn your back upon it without worry, but this isn't such a case. Infighting you could manage, civil war has you about fifty-fifty in the caring department. The one thing you have to keep in mind is that Rinn would be King. Chaos without form is easy to minimize. Chaos with direction, much like Discord, is a force to be reckoned with. The difference between the two is that Discord creates chaos on a whim. Rinn will spread his reach across the corners of the world until the mountain on which he stands crumbles under his weight.
Celestia knows what's coming but she isn't ready. You saw her when you were last in Aviaris, the way Rinn and Reuben whittled her down with such finesse. How they once conducted themselves in diplomacy is how they will act in war, pecking away with their beaks before swooping in with a single deadly strike with their talons at the ready.
Your head droops as Rivot grabs yet another pint and that's when a thought strikes you and seems to bring an air of relief. Throughout all of known history, light has prevailed in some form. The fire might roar but the rain will come. Plus, this is a land of magic and friendship... and the magic of friendship but that's a whole separate can of worms that's messy to open. The logistics of the thing are beyond comprehension. Bottom line, there's always a light at the end of the tunnel, and if that's not something to smile about then butter your buns and call you Sally... That sounded better in your head's head.
The doors opposite the exit push open revealing the priests from before numbering at a total of five. Rinn almost pops out of his seat in a fit of excitement before calming himself in an instant, "Attention please, allow the Marshals your ears."
Rivot rolls his eyes and downs another ale. "Overseer," he nods quaintly not even addressing him by name. That only surprises you because of the way he said it, almost as though Rinn was no different than any other griffon. "A King has passed into flame. A throne dormant in his absence. Affairs forgotten in these times of grief. As it always was it will forever be, the list please..." Another of the so-called Marshals retrieves a scroll from his robes. "As once promised, the lands of Peridor shall be returned to the House of Saber to be distributed as they see fit. Crops from..."
"Ahh, Anon, my dear Anon," Rivot leans against your shoulder as the Marshal continues. "Oh how I loathe you." Okay that took a turn from stupid drunk to leering sociopath. "I hate your smile. I hate the way you stand all tall and professional like an old geezer. I hate the way you talk, the way you try to act smart. I hate the way my own father liked you more than me, his own son."
"I don't have much to compete against," you reply quietly, flinching as he butts heads with yours.
All focus is turned to the Marshal and not a soul looks your way as the violent brute you knew lurked behind his drunk persona emerges. "No! You are nothing compared to me! Born of the highest house and trained by the masters of old. I killed my first minotaur when you were still sucking on your mother's breast. Your seed was weak, born a weakling and raised a coward."
"You start on this road and I'll be there to pave it to your fucking grave," you hiss behind your teeth. He can insult you, but not your family.
"Oh I'm waiting for you to lay that first brick. Pain and Misery have been dying to get a second taste." Your heads press against the others, fists mirrored and ready for action. That R could well have been from Rivot who wanted a second helping of revenge and you'll be more than happy to give it to him.
"Rivot..." The griffon, Rose, whispers as she moves between you, "You can have your fun later."
"I'll be counting on it."
"We'll see how high that is."
"And to the throne of Aviaris, rule over Gryphonnia will rest upon the house of Stonewall... Long barren has the Sapphire Manor stood without a keeper, no heir brought to light under its roof." Rinn remains remarkably calm as the Marshal pays the King one last prayer before crowning him King. Everything he's worked for, years of planning and maneuvering to get here, even betraying the one griffon he swore to serve.
"Well played..."
"Who rules in a Kingless Empire? Vice General... His passing will be forever in our memories, but with a virgin ruler now in Reuben's place, he would be ill-suited to bear the Crown of Aviaris. Senate Overseer. Rinn..."
Iron Will shares your scowl as the cocky bastard stands with barely-contained energy, "Marshals, I know how hard-"
"Sit down!" The elderly griffon shouts, stunning you and pretty much everyone else in earshot. "You shall rise when asked and not before." You're half-tempted to clap but that's not what you want written on your tombstone. Anon - He had terrible timing.
Rinn, rather shocked himself, does as he's instructed and this comes as a double shock to you. He's going to be King and yet these griffons seem to have wield power than even he. You never thought you'd say this, but you should really read more. "Rinn," the Marshal clears his throat, "You have served Gryphonnia well in these trying times. With the Harbingers of Winters return you have secured this city's protection. When the blizzard passes, the ice will thaw, our food stores shall open to reveal a bountiful harvest and a new leader shall sit upon the throne of Aviaris. Please, rise."
He does so, hesitantly this time, his breath choppy and uneven. So he is human after all, well, griffon but... Fuck it you know what you mean. Taking a knee before them he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Your service, your duty to Gryphonnia will forever be remembered. The Marshal's welcome the day you join our ranks. You may be seated."
... Oh please don't laugh. Please, Anon, don't laugh right now. Oooh but it would be so worth it.
"Rinn, you may be seated," the Marshal calls once more sending a very confused Rinn to his seat, Valore's whispering earning a swift but violent cough from the Overseer. "When Stormguard took the throne, the crown was passed from blood to blood, from his father to him. No son there is of the King, no blood holds the key to his House." It's in this moment that he pulls a scroll from his robe, alabaster white with a crimson trim, a seal of wax unbroken at its belly. "The final testament of Stormguard, a will written if such a case should arise, unbroken."
Alright maybe it's a little inappropriate but you have the biggest fucking grin on your face right now. Rinn's crown of glass has been shattered and his plan thrown to the raging blizzard. Sliding his talon down the parchment the seal breaks open and the scroll unravels down his arm.
"Imperfect, flawed, lacking... I, Stormguard, last member of the House of Stonewall, fit each of these terms and all those that share in its meaning. I soon join my father beyond and yet... I cannot rest knowing of my actions in life... and my inaction all the same. I never asked to be King, but it was my duty and I would abide by it. Dark times were upon us, the plague that eats at me even now. What I wished I could do differently. I wished to travel the world, to see its wonders. I wished to learn the flute. I wished to be a better griffon, like my grandfather. I wished to take care of those I loved, however inappropriate my actions would be seen by others, but more than that, I wish I could have been a better father."
The entire room begins to gush with gasps and murmurs, each griffon's mouth moving faster than their body would allow. Rinn... Anger runs through his veins and yet he keeps his head cool but there's that twitch of his cheek. Light at the end of the tunnel, told you Anon.
"I wish I could hold her in my arms as no other father would. I wish I could watch her grow as you did. I wished nothing more than to sit upon the shores of a distant lands with a book, the waves crashing upon the shore, with you by my side and together... We might watch our girl play amongst the waves and sand."
This isn't a will, it's a letter. A final goodbye for- You turn to meet her gaze, that smile of hers ever prevalent. Even when she was left alone with a child, she smiled. When her muscles grew weak and times harsh, she knew had a bundle of joy in her arms. When the days turned ever darker and she was left alone in her hovel, fighting the cold, she saw the break in the clouds... and she smiled.
'She used to be a real beauty once if I’m not mistaken. She could make a noble’s head turn without even trying.' Iron Will once said that and even now he hasn't put the pieces together. Griselda raises a single talon to her lips, still smiling.
"But I know now that day will never come. I was called to perform my duty and so I must call upon her to do hers. Born in a stone hovel and raised with no house to call her own, I hereby recognize my daughter and heir to the throne of Aviaris. Gilda... of House Stonewall. Queen of Aviaris."
What was once a steady stream has become a raging flood as griffons begin to stand and shout, some consoling while others criticizing, some with words of kindness and others demanding of blood. In the middle of it all sits the queen, confused, conflicted, other words that start with c. "Huh... Who'd have thought?"
"Guards!" Rivot cries out in a rage, losing equally as much as Rinn with this development, "Take them into custody!"
"No, hey, NO!" You tackle on the guards heading for her only to be pinned by two more. "Get off me!" From beneath two armored griffons and a bucket of blood funneling to your head you can see Iron Will holding Gilda and Griselda in either arm, his towering form forcing many of the guards to take a more diplomatic approach. The Marshals meanwhile look onwards with dismay, silent judges in the shadows. Only two seem to note their presence now, you and Rinn, and only Rinn has something to lose now.
Snapping Valore to his side he strides between the guards and your friends, "Belay that order. Return to your posts."
Rivot is fuming from the nose and you fear he might not listen to reason this time. "I am the Vice General, you will arrest the usurper on my command!"
One of the guards takes his duty a bit too seriously and moves in on them only to meet a face full of hoof from Valore. A second longer and he'd taken one from Iron Will too. "They have performed no crime other than existence on a will, Rivot, and your haste to arrest them on such circumstances is unacceptable. Valore, you will see Rivot to his chambers."
"Understood," the hippogriff bows and tasks two more guards to join him. As he passes you you're not quite sure how to describe his expression as he looks down upon you, inquisitive maybe? "This way, Vice General."
Still snarling he backs up to the exit before taking one last look at you, "Arrest him! You hear me!" His screams fade as he's escorted back to his bird cage but when you look to Rinn you don't feel much better.
"Guards... Take Anon into custody. Set him in the guest quarters under heavy guard, the dungeons would have him frozen by midnight."
At least you won't die right away. "Let him go," you hear Gilda yell out at last, "He didn't do anything."
Rinn turns slowly, rubbing his eyebrows, "I protect those whose innocence is valid. Perhaps your friend should have thought of that before he assaulted a member of the royal guard. Away with him."
"I said to let him go! Let him go!" She continues to holler as they pull you up off the ground, Iron Will keeping a firm grip on her. "Stop- Let me go!"
"It's alright, Gilda. Everything's going to be fine." You turn back as you pass them, this time calling to Iron Will, "Keep them safe, alright? Don't worry about me. Like I said, I'm gonna to make it."
"Keep moving!" A guard thwacks you with the end of his halberd before forcing you down another hallway. "Not so tough now are you?"
Tough like your... Dammit. You hate it when your brain farts out like that.
~~~
Your hips slam against side of the bed before you rebound off and slam your fist against the door, a metallic click locking you in. "Dammit," you grunt and kick the door, toes immediately regretting it. "Double dammit." You rest your arm over your eyes as you toss yourself on the bed, your other hand idly loosening your tie. To be fair you never thought you'd make it this far.
The scenario that always ran through your mind was some griffon calling you over to a secluded corner while another shanks you and whispers longingly in your ear, 'That'll do pig.' Or something in that manner, what he whispers differs from time to time but unf- that shanking. Taking a hard one to the back... Okay you may have pushed a little too hard for that one but give yourself a break, you can add getting thrown into improvised prison onto the growing list that leads to your mental breakdown.
A hum catches your ear followed by a near silent sip, and you might've thought you could Rivot all the way through a hundred yards of stone and bickering nobles. Funny thought that. You aren't nearly that lucky. No, it's not Rivot. Let's add another entry to the list... Should you write it with invisible ink or perhaps in hieroglyphics? Both? You're sure he'd like that.
"Why is it that you always seem to show up at the worst of times?" Your guest pauses mid-gulp at his discovery and you can almost imagine him frozen in that pose, those distorted eyes wide with excess. "I know you're there, Discord. You really should cut back on the milk, or at least mix it up a little. I've heard Celestia got a fresh shipment of Strawberry."
His throaty chuckle does little to improve the sourness of your mood, "Who do you take me for? I may be eccentric, but please, I'm not mad. Strawberry," the draconequus scoffs at the notion, "you should be ashamed." Eccentric, that's one way to put it.
"Well, if you haven't notice I'm not really in the mood to take that stance." Pushing yourself up you find the creature of chaos draped along the ceiling upside-down, swirling an amber chalice nonchalantly. Typical Discord.
"Ah! Not in the self-defeating mood. Let's see if we can change that." With a snap he disappears and your anger only rises when he reappears on the ground, clad in Stormguard's armor. "Tight fit, perhaps I should lay of the sweets... Nah."
"Turn back. Now."
Of course he doesn't listen to you. Discord was never shy about making those around him uncomfortable or in your case, extremely irritable. "How dare you speak to me like that, peasant. Why, I allow you to frolic with my little girl and this is how you repay me? First you lose that vial and now-"
"I'm giving you one last warning as a friend, stop it." Every instinct in your body is bent on nailing him in that smug jaw of his and watching in glee as the tuft of hair on his chin follows him down to earth... all except for one.
He pouts his lips but relents all the same, "Fine, have it your way. Party pooper." With a snap he's back to his normal self. That's not exactly an improvement but at least it's far less offensive. "I love what you've done with the place. It's so you," he drags a paw along the far table with an audible squeak. "Clean, proper and altogether sterile. Blech. I know some real ponies who could give this a proper renovation. There's this mare in Ponyville called Pinkie Pie-"
"Discord," you interrupt him, "What're you doing here?"
"Me? Oh I was just in the neighborhood and thought I might drop in. See how you were doing, that sort of thing. I can't say you're doing well. Has that griffon friend of yours been crowned yet or must I sit through another one of those 'ceremonies.' I have no idea how you deal with those. So dull they make my eyes roll right out of my head." ...And there they go.
"So you knew about Gilda? How long?"
"Where did you go you little bugger," Discord stumbles about as he pops in one of his eyes, the other running between his legs after sprouting a pair of arms and legs. "I swear they have a mind of their own."
"Acheem," you clear your throat after he has procured his remaining eye. "How long have you known who Gilda was?"
"If I recall we first met in your Equestrian abode, Twilight's old room, or would that be new room seeing as she moved back in?" You shake your head, knowing that he's being coy on purpose. "You were out on business and-"
"Not the party. When did you know she was Stormguard's daughter?"
"Ah yes, that whole business," he pulls up a chair and leans back far enough to fall over... but he doesn't. "I've known about her heritage for... How long has it been now? Two, maybe three hundred years? Time flies when you're having fun being frozen in stone. Protip: When you know you're going to get hit by a magic rainbow, don't."
"Three- Three hundred years? Stormguard wasn't even born yet so how could you possibly- Wait, fuck it. Discord, don't have to explain shit."
"You might want to work on that potty mouth of yours. For someone in health services your mouth is quite filthy." Getting off the bed you pace around the room, Discord's chair spinning to face you all the while. "Well, someone who was in health services. I'm surprised you don't lead with that when you hit on the mares."
"You knew all this time and you never said anything to me..." It's all coming back to you now, everything he's said. "This was what you meant back in the library? This was the choice, to come here and you weren't talking about yourself when you talked about coming at the behest of a friend, you meant Gilda."
"Only figured that out now, did you? For an educated man you're quite slow at times. I don't see what that Twilight girl sees in you." Yeah yeah, are you talking to Discord now or Gilda? "Well, it's me of course. How could I possibly be someone other than myself?"
"You'll find a way, I'm sure."
"True enough," he smiles and that sets you off.
"I wish I'd never met you."
"Oh Anon," holding his mismatched hands over his chest in fake agony, "You wound me." You are so sick and tired of him.
"No, fuck you! Do you have any idea how much of my life you have ruined? You introduced me to that Star Spice crap, you planted that damn seed. You put me through hell and back by putting me in Celestia's service. Rinn and his goons nearly left me for dead because of your actions! Now here I am back in the thick of it, and it's all because of you! Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if the entire reason I came to Equestria was because of you, a fucking lunatic with a bigger ego than a heart, toying with my life like a puppet answering to his master's strings."
He waits ever patiently for you to finish your rant, drumming his talons upon his chin as you're left huffing and puffing the last ounces of pent-up stress from your lungs. "...Are you quite through?" You exhale deeply and hold yourself at the hips. Yeah, you nod silently, you're pretty much done. "Good, because I have grown quite tired of your accusations myself."
And here we fucking go. "No no no, Anon, you do not get to dismiss my words after having put me through your own. That is what we call disrespectful," he grabs your by the throat and lifts you up to his level, "and I am quite finished with being unappreciated." Tossing you back upon the bed he finally releases your neck. "Let me refresh your memory, my so called friend." You cup your hands over your ears but his voice only radiates louder in your head as you thrash about helplessly. "You were weak, soft, putty before the hooves of every pony you met. Were it not for my actions you would remain unable to look another pony in the eye, incapable of speaking in your own defense, a deadbeat, utterly useless in this world."
He- he has a point, but you don't know the future. You could have changed for the better someday, and then you wouldn't have to deal with Rinn and his ploys. "Were it not for my actions, you would never have kept Equestria safe from the ravings of that scheming griffon with his slick feathers and polished beak. When he took the city, and trust me when I say this, he would have taken the city, he would have seen you and taken you as a prize, a jester, the only one of your kind in the land and another addition to his box of toys like that Hippogriff fellow."
No, Twilight would've stopped him. She already did after you were discharged and took up your old job. "Would she have? Do you think to know the future, the very same that I see? Speaking of the mare, you would never have known her if not for me. She has learned much from you, from watching your rise and fall. Her rise to princesshood will bring Equestria a brighter future, my actions and yours have brought this, but even then I pulled your strings."
"Bullshit. You don't care about Equestria. If you did you would've told me. I would've helped you freely, happily even. You only care about your damn chocolate milk."
The voice in your head ceases and your thrashing comes to an end, but why? Releasing your ears you find Discord still staring down at you. "Perhaps I did, once, but I've come quite accustomed to this- this life. However dull it is there are still moments of chaos for me to savor, little unforeseen events I had not anticipated. Like you, for instance."
A smile graces his face again, but instead of the usual cruel or smug look of satisfaction he typically shows this one is more true to form. "No, I did not bring you to this world, nor do I have the power to return you there. So I used you, paved a way for you not only to improve upon yourself, but the world I have come to enjoy. My deceit towards you is in poor taste, this is true from your point of view, but necessary from mine."
"...Everything happens for a reason, is that it?"
He nods, "And I regret to inform you that your work is not yet done." What does he mean by that? Why, just wait a second and he'll tell you. "Quite. Even now, your acquaintance Rinn is planning to steal the throne from its proper owner."
"But they have a will, Rinn saw it first opened right in front of him."
"It appears he has taken an old trick from your book and calling- What was it? Nersha-something?"
"Yershall. He's going to formally question the document's validity. Discord, if you really do want to help you have to do so right now. Whose names are on the scroll? Where can I find them? Is there anything-"
"Shhh," he puts a talon to your lips, silencing you. "You didn't honestly believe I was just in the neighborhood, did you?" With his a snap the table at the room's end fills with books, scrolls, dusted tomes that cloud the air as they drop upon the surface. "And as requested..." he pulls out the very Will you needed to see. "Fear not, this is merely a copy but I think it will do you some good."
You pull it from his paws and sit down at the table eagerly going over the page to find three names listed at the bottom.
Reuben - Vice General
Alberich - Chief Marshal
Chrome Crescent - Paternal Verifier
"Chrome Crescent? That sounds like a pony name. Alberich, I think he was the one who read it so he'll side with the Will without a doubt, but with Reuben gone, we only have one of three. We need Chrome to testify on Gilda's behalf. If we don't-"
You turn to find nothing but an empty room, Discord having vanished while you were distracted. Looking back to the books you find a note you hadn't noticed before.
'Sorry about that but I had business to attend to in Ponyville and had to slip into the shower real quick.'
You don't even...
'Everything you need to know lies in the books in front of you, but don't take my word for that. I haven't the time to read through them all though I am sure you will not have the same problem. Don't worry that they would be discovered by your captors, only you and I may see them. Do try not to make too big a mess of things. I haven't the energy to one-up you all the time. Tata and good luck.
Your chaotic counterpart,
Discord.'
So this is it? Thrust back into the world with nothing but the clothes on your back and a draconequus in your pocket. We'll call that a wash. You chuckle and crack your fingers, rolling your neck around twice as you set your gaze back on the thick layer of parchment and leatherbacks, ever-eager to devour the knowledge held within their ink-riddled pages. You pick up one of the dusty tomes, waving off the cloud that threatens to enter your nostrils and read the title.
"House Stonewall: Crown and Lineage. Phew, I wish I had a drink..." You pause with a knowing smile, outstretching your arm to grasp the chalice floating to your right. "I still think you should try strawberry, but, chocolate will do me just fine. Cheers."