//------------------------------// // Cruelty // Story: Of Dragons and Horses, Songs and Solace // by 8686 //------------------------------// It had been a long day of greetings, pleasantries, introductions, and keeping-up-appearances. But at last it was nearly over. As the final dignitaries were shepherded from the throne room, Celestia finally allowed herself a sigh of relief and let her posture relax into a shallow slump. More than anything, what she wanted now was a soothing cup of camomile tea, a hot bath, and a book to unwind with. The various Very Important Ponies from around the country were perfectly sociable, but having so many in the same room at once all vying for her attention could be... trying. She was about to rise from the throne and depart for the day when the doors at the far end opened. Her initial thoughts – that one of the guests had simply forgotten a hat or a scarf – were abandoned when through them entered Tick Tock, her scheduler / appointment keeper / secretary... in fact her own personal organiser. He gave a quick, practised bow and approached. “Forgive me, Princess. But there is a party of two outside who request an audience as a matter of urgency.” Celestia sighed. It was always urgent. All of the dignitaries were just so important, and absolutely nothing could wait. “Tick Tock, I am tired. It has been a long and draining day.” “Yes, Princess, and I have made that clear to all of the dignitaries outside who were hoping for a little private tet-a-tet with you. But these... well, they are not your guests your highness. They have just arrived in the city, and they have come straight here asking to speak to you. They seem... distraught. If you wish, I will tell them you cannot see them, but I thought you should at least know of their arrival.” He gave her a serious look. One he reserved for matters he thought were troubling or in some way worrisome. “They are begging to see you, your highness.” Celestia sighed. A whole day of meeting and greeting an army of ponies. What harm could two more do? “Okay,” she said, steeling herself. “Send them in.” Tick Tock left through the doors, allowing them to swing closed behind him. Celestia once more straightened into her regal posture – oh, her back was going to ache after all this – and prepared to greet her guests, as she had a hundred times already today. The golden doors at the end of the throne room shifted speculatively. Then, a moment later, the right hand one opened and through it stepped two griffons, a male and a female. They looked about nervously, then straight ahead at her, and became even more nervous. They approached along the plush, red carpet with trepidation, and their claws lightly scraping the fabric was the only sound in the room. Eventually reaching a respectful distance they both stopped and bowed humbly, if awkwardly. The male griffon was a large, stocky type, with grey plumage which became white around the neck and belly. His female companion was slighter and adorned with brown, speckled feathers, and she appeared to have been crying. They both shifted nervously, unsure of how etiquette expected them to proceed. “I understand you wanted to see me?” said Celestia kindly. Then, noticing the dried tears on the female’s face, she added, “Is something the matter?” That seemed to have some effect, and the female griffon broke into sobs. Then, through tear-filled eyes, she looked up. “Please, Princess. She’s our daughter!” she cried. The male griffon put his foreleg around his partner and she buried her head into his chest, no longer trying to hold back her sorrow. The male looked up into Celestia’s curious face and, composing himself, he began. “Princess, please forgive us. My name is Waylon, and this is my wife, Marcia. We’re from a small village outside of Quill. We... we...” he struggled. “We’re not rich, your highness,” he admitted. “We’re farmers. All we have is our land and each other.” He took a deep breath, and it took him a moment to continue. “About two weeks ago... our daughter, Erica, was taken from us by a dragon.” Marcia sobbed, “It just swooped out of the sky and grabbed her up. Carried her away!” “There wasn’t anything we could do. We... thought we’d never see her again,” continued Waylon. “But a couple of days later we received a message from them. The dragons. It said they were... holding Erica. And that if we ever wanted to see her again... we needed to pay for her.” He shook his head sadly and slumped. “The amount they wanted... it would take us more than a lifetime to afford. So we–” “They won’t help us!” cried Marcia. Waylon hugged her a little tighter into his chest and looked back to Celestia, still doing his best to be the composed, supportive husband. But even now, Celestia could see it was a battle he was losing. “We went to the Baron of Quill, to ask him for help, but he told us no. He said if we began negotiating with the dragons, it would only encourage them to make more raids in the future, or some such.” He sighed, but it was a slightly ragged affair. “I can understand his position, but... she’s our daughter. We can’t just abandon her.” “Everyone we’ve gone to in our government has turned us away!” wailed Marcia. “They won’t help us...” Waylon looked as though he were about to continue, but he didn’t need to. “I understand,” said Celestia. “But why come all the way to Canterlot? How can I help when your own people cannot?” At this, Waylon and Marcia exchanged a nervous glance. Waylon looked up. “I hope you will forgive us, but there was a rumour, your highness. Something we heard from a friend of a friend of a friend. It may not even be true, but the story goes that you know the dragon king himself. That you met him once, a long time ago. We came to see if... that is, to ask you if...” “Can you talk to him?” asked Marcia. “Can you get him to give our daughter back? Please?” Celestia could only register surprise, but Waylon spoke again. “We’re desperate, your majesty. We don’t even know if the story we were told is true, or made up. We’re here on a wing and a prayer, but... we have tried everything else. There’s nowhere else we can turn and... if you can’t help us... we’re never going to see our daughter again.” Celestia took a breath. And let it out. “I don’t believe I can help,” she said. “It’s true, I met the dragon king once. But that was over three hundred years ago. I would not say I knew him. We had one conversation. And I don’t presume to have any influence over him.” “But couldn’t you at least try?” cried Marcia desperately. “I am sorry,” said Celestia. “I would risk drawing Equestria into a larger political conflict.” Marcia looked like she was about to object further, but instead she broke down and once more buried her beak in the soft plumage of her husband’s chest. “Ssh, honey. It’s okay,” whispered Waylon, hugging her still. “It’s not okay!” sobbed Marcia. “No. No... it’s not,” admitted Waylon softly, his own face a mask of sorrowful defeat. Then he looked back up to Celestia. “Thank you for seeing us, your majesty. We’re sorry to have imposed. We’ll not bother you further.” Then with a gentle pull, he guided his wife back towards the doors... and through them... and they swung shut behind him. And Celestia was left alone in the throne room. With only her decision for company. She was acting in the best interests of Equestria. Avoiding confrontation with the dragons. This was the safe choice. The prudent choice. The... It was the wrong choice. Of course it was. How could she play politics here? Those two griffons had come to her, throwing themselves at her hooves because she was their only hope of seeing their daughter again. And she had just taken that hope away? Without even trying to help? That wasn’t her. That wasn’t right. She stood from the throne, walking quickly to the double doors, pushing through them and into the hallway beyond, where Waylon, Marcia, and Tick Tock were still gathered. “Tick Tock? I am heading south on a diplomatic visit. Have my chariot prepared, and find one of the palace suites for our guests. They are welcome to stay and wait until I return.” She turned to the two griffons, and gave them a look of utmost sincerity. “I can make no promises... truly I do not believe he will listen to me. But I will talk to him. And I will try and get your daughter back.” The looks of relief and happiness on their faces required no words to interpret. And though Celestia was heartened to see them, she herself felt uneasy. She could promise nothing at all... That cup of camomile tea was going to have to wait. ––– Twenty minutes later, and with word that her chariot was ready, Celestia left the castle for the courtyard. And could only register surprise. Her chariot was there. As were a dozen others, along with an entire phalanx of Royal Guards, all stood at attention and ready to go. And at the head of them, her guard-captain, Valiant Song, saluting smartly. Celestia couldn’t quite believe it. Valiant had always been efficient, but this was something else. And while the speed at which she had martialled them all was impressive, it was, unfortunately, unwanted on this occasion. “Captain Valiant? A word?” she said. Valiant stepped forward. A white-coated pegasus mare with a look of determination about her, she approached the princess close enough that they could talk without being overheard. “I asked simply for my chariot to be prepared,” said Celestia. “Why are half of the city guard here?” “For your protection, Princess,” answered Valiant. “Word is, we’re heading into dragon country.” “I’ve made no mention of my destination,” Celestia pointed out. “Forgive me, Princess,” said Valiant, in a tone that suggested she was in no way seeking forgiveness, “but it’s my job to keep you safe. So when a pair of griffons arrive in the city, talking about a dragon and a kidnapping, and asking to see you, and when you immediately call for your chariot after meeting with them, and when a Captain who’s served you for as long as I have hears about it... several assumptions are made, resulting in the need for a lot of protection to be organised.” Inwardly, Celestia sighed. “The gesture is appreciated, Valiant, but this trip is supposed to defuse any potential conflict, not stir it. I will not be crossing the dragon’s border with a small army. The situation is delicate enough. I need only two guards for the chariot. Please, dismiss the rest.” Valiant nodded back reluctantly. It was obvious that she wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t about to be openly insubordinate about it in front of the Guard. She turned to address them. “All right ponies, the Princess is impressed and you’ve all passed inspection. Now fall out and return to your posts!” Then she walked through the dispersing crowd to the royal chariot, the Princess following behind. They reached it, and the two pegasus stallions already harnessed in. Valiant approached the one on the left and fixed his gaze. “You’re relieved. Get yourself out of that harness and go home. You’ve got the rest of the day to yourself.” The stallion saluted and did as he was bade. Then Valiant was backing herself into the harness, and when it was secure, she looked back to Celestia. “My job to keep you safe, Princess. So unless you can tell me that this trip is is no way dangerous, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Celestia gave her a resigned nod. No, she couldn’t say that for sure. She could only hope. She seated herself on the chariot and they took to the air, heading southwards for the border and the desert beyond. ––– Another day. Wholly unremarkable. Tedious. Dull. Boring. Ever since he had learned what it was to be a king, Ragnarok had almost wished he hadn’t. It was not his purpose to lead his people into glorious battle. Nor to secure for them wealth and prosperity. No, it was his job to keep them under control. He was essentially tasked with babysitting a rabble of children, but children who would wipe out everything in their path if left unsupervised. And after a while of looking at his people from his new, heightened perspective he had come to the further, worrying realisation, that many of them were idiots and fools. No, that wasn’t quite fair. It wasn’t that they were unintelligent, but it appeared they simply lacked any sense of prospect or motivation. Almost none had long-term goals, eschewing them for quick, immediate gratification wherever possible; concerned only for the here and now, and blinded to what might be in the future. A side-effect of their greed. He wondered if he had ever been so short-sighted as they. Being responsible for them had certainly made him see things very differently than he once had. So he spent most of his days pandering to them. Acknowledging their various – though thankfully few – trivial requests. They might be fools, but for the most part, they were at least self-sufficient fools. But while he was bored and frustrated by his role, it was necessary. The alternative – a cabal of dragons let loose on the world without restraint or guidance – was a horrifying thought. He yawned, and looked over to his mountain of gold and jewels. His own personal horde. It had certainly grown considerably since he had risen to power. Being King had some perks, he supposed. He was still a dragon after all. He was still greedy himself. Still, he had been cooped up inside his lair for far too long. This hollow, dormant volcano was starting to feel like a cell. Ah. Actually, that reminded him. He stood and began making his way to the entrance, but even as he did so, Vanir appeared. Vanir, an older dragon, shorter than he with cobalt scales, was the closest thing he had to an assistant at the moment. He entered the large, hollow chamber and dipped his head in a quick bow. “My Lord. There is a... visitor outside requesting an audience.” Ragnarok sighed. Again? Why could his people not solve their own minor problems? “Who is it?” he asked, not bothering to hide his impatience. “My Lord... she would say only that she was, ‘a friend.’” Ragnarok snorted. “I do not have friends, Vanir. Go and tell whoever it is that I am not interested in their games!” “Yes, my Lord.” Vanir bowed again and ducked out of sight into the entrance tunnel. Great, now he was stuck in here until Vanir could get the interloper outside to leave. Ugh! He hated it when his subjects tried to be clever, or play politic. They were awful at it. ‘A friend.’ Hah! Kings did not have friends. They had subjects and they had enemies, and that was all... Enemies? She? Oh. A thin, wicked grin came to his lips, unasked. Could it be? Falling into a languid saunter, Ragnarok made his own way to the tunnel entrance and headed outside. Suddenly, boredom wasn’t a concern anymore. ––– “He will not see you. Now I suggest you leave at once,” he heard Vanir say as he left the tunnel and emerged into the evening desert sun. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the light, but there she was, stood before Vanir, in front of a small golden chariot harnessed to two of her winged companions dressed in full armor. Personal guards no doubt. Goodness, what a terrifying prospect! “Princess Celestia,” he said, hiding his grin and composing his features into a careful, annoyed-looking frown. “When I wanted to enter your country without permission, I had to do so with an army at my back. I am disappointed that you have not shown me the same respect.” She was taken by surprise at that, but she recovered almost instantly. He only noticed because he had been looking for it. She was very good at this. “Lord Ragnarok,” she began. “I did not want to provoke or anger you. I have come to speak to you in peace, not to threaten or coerce.” “Threaten? You? Do not make me laugh, Celestia. No, you have wasted your journey I am afraid. Has Vanir not told you? I am far too busy to entertain guests. Especially when they arrive unexpectedly and uninvited.” He made a show of preparing to turn his back. “Ragnarok... I’ve come at great urgency. There was no time to send word. Please...” and just for a moment, her composure softened and her gaze became sincere. “Let me speak to you.” Ragnarok turned back to face her, satisfied he had elicited at least some reaction. She wasn’t yet a hollow shell it seemed. “I suppose I should acknowledge your arrival at the very least. That would be the courteous thing to do. Very well, Celestia. You have sixty seconds to, ‘speak’ to me. Do use them wisely.” “I’ve been told that you have kidnapped a griffon. That you are holding her and demanding payment for her release.” She looked up at him and stared, clearly reluctant to believe. “Is it true?” Ah. So that was it. “Fenrir has indeed taken a Ransom. I merely approved it,” he said. Celestia was once more surprised, but the signs were less subtle now. She had clearly been hoping for a ‘no,’ or at least an answer that might absolve him of responsibility. That would have been more comfortable for her. Too bad. “And you condone this?” she asked, disappointment written clear across her face. But before he could reply, Vanir blustered in. “How dare you?! You presume to question our King like this? After he has generously shared his time with you? You are lucky that he does not lock you in a dungeon right now! Leave at once, pony! You are no longer welcome here!” Ragnarok simply raised an eyebrow. “Vanir? What are you doing?” he asked patiently. Vanir turned to him in surprise. “My Lord? This pony... she arrives unannounced! She addresses you by name, without Title or respect! She questions our traditions!” “Yes,” said Ragnarok with a grin. “Refreshing, isn’t it?” He gave a quick glance at Vanir. “I will be the one to decide who is welcome in my lands and for how long, Vanir. But since I am in a good mood today, I will simply caution you to show a little more respect to our guests.” He lowered his tone a little and looked seriously at the other dragon. “That pony there is the most dangerous individual you will ever meet, Vanir. You are lucky she is not as easily angered as I am, because should she take offense and decide to turn you to ashes... I would be disinclined to intervene. Now, I will take your apology as read. I have a job for you. Take Princess Celestia’s entourage and go to Mesa at once. Tell Fenrir that I am coming to inspect his Ransom. I have put it off for too long already, but I wish to speak to Celestia alone first.” At this suggestion though, one of her armoured bodyguards stepped forward. “If you think I’m leaving the Princess alone with you, you’ve got another thing coming,” she said aggressively. “Captain Valiant,” Celestia began to rebuke, but Ragnarok held up a claw. He fixed the female guard with a wide grin. “What are you afraid is going to happen? That I will eat her?” He chuckled. “No harm will come to her, I assure you.” He turned to Celestia. “You may see me as many things, Princess, but I hope a liar is not one of them. If you wish to speak, then allow us to speak without an audience,” he said. Celestia looked back at her guard, and the guard gave her a look that suggested she thought this an incredibly bad idea. But Celestia nevertheless gave her a very direct nod. “I will be fine, Captain. Go, I will join you shortly.” Ragnarok raised his head and addressed his own counterpart. “Take them quickly, Vanir, and get them to shade. I suspect they are beginning to cook under all that pointless armour.” Then, just because he could, he fixed the forthright female guard with a stare and a grin, and deliberately licked his lips. The look he got back! Equal parts surprise, fear, and offense. Oh, ponies. Such fun! Finally Vanir, with his own look of bewilderment that was just wonderful to see, bowed sharply and took to the air, whipping up thin clouds of dust from the dry desert floor as he beat his wings. He circled low a couple of times while Celestia’s guards reluctantly spread their wings and joined him in flight, chariot and all. Then they were in the air heading east, towards a huge, flat-topped pillar of red rock several miles distant. They faded to specks in the sky, and were ultimately lost from sight. Ragnarok turned back to his guest. “We do not really notice the heat, Celestia, but it must be uncomfortably warm for you. Come, let us talk out of the sun.” He turned and led her back towards the mountain tunnel and into cooler shade. “You seem somewhat disturbed,” he noted once they were inside, as he led her along the winding, S-shaped tunnel to his lair. “I had hoped that it wasn’t true, or that you were not aware,” she replied. “I hoped you might want to help. I did not want to believe you were that cruel.” At this Ragnarok scowled. A real frown this time, fueled by a quick stab of anger. “Cruel? Is that your conclusion already? What do you know of it?!” he seethed. “I know all I need to,” replied Celestia icily. “An innocent griffon has been kidnapped and is being kept from her family while they are extorted for money they do not have. And you encourage it. Yes, I find it cruel.” Ragnarok growled. “Vanir was right. You come to me, wholly ignorant and presume to cast judgment! How dare you?” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “And... you are wrong. I do not encourage it. Nor would I say I condone it.” “But you permit it,” retorted Celestia. “I do. Because Ransom is an ancient tradition. One that goes back even to the days when primitive cultures believed they needed to offer us sacrifices to ‘appease’ us.” He chuckled with a wry grin. “Thankfully, we put Sacrifice to bed a long time ago. So... pointless.” He looked down at her. “It is not as simple as you believe, Celestia. There are rules.” Her expression remained unimpressed. “There are rules to kidnap and extortion? Of what kind?” “The best kind,” said Ragnarok, his grin now wicked. “Arbitrary ones. That I make up, and change at my whim.” Celestia simply gave him a cold stare in reply and the grin vanished into a frown. “One of these days, Celestia, I will acquaint you with the concept of ‘a joke.’ I daresay you might enjoy it.” “I find no humour in any of this, Lord Ragnarok,” she said professionally. They finally emerged from the winding tunnel into his huge, roughly dome-shaped lair. He approached his throne, hewn from cooled molten rock directly in front of the entrance, so that the king would be the first thing any entrant would see. He took his seat and Celestia stood before him. He fixed her gaze, but she would not be the first to speak. She patiently waited for him to continue. Very well. “The rules. Firstly, a ransom is always for the safe return of the subject. Nothing less. I do not allow my guests to be harmed in any way, and if I do not believe a dragon is capable of safeguarding their Ransom, I do not allow them to keep it. Secondly, while the amount of the ransom is decided by the Taker, I must approve it and I have the final say, including the size of my share. There is no point in demanding a ransom that can never be paid. We are in it for profit, nothing more sinister, and something is always better than nothing. Thirdly, I allow my subjects each to take one ransom a year only.” He grinned. “Most never bother. In fact it has been years since I have approved even one.” “Why?” Celestia raised a surprised eyebrow. “Because it is tedious and involved. It is not supposed to be an easy route to riches, it is supposed to be a last resort. A way for a dragon to get back on the ladder when their quest to increase the size of their horde stagnates.” He snorted. “No-one likes taking ransoms, Celestia. Look around you. We are in the desert! They drink water that is hard to find. They eat food that we cannot easily provide. They require constant attention, and if they are not well treated or their health falls even marginally, then I become very upset and instead of reward, punishment follows swiftly.” He fixed her gaze. “There is a great deal of risk involved in taking a ransom, Celestia, I make sure of it. Almost invariably, it outweighs the rewards. But when it does not, I do not pretend to be upset to make a profit.” “And if the ransom is never paid?” asked Celestia. “What becomes of your ‘guest’ then?” she asked with a hint of accusation. Ragnarok snorted, affronted at her tone. “Is this an inquisition, Celestia? I will indulge you only so far, and I feel my patience wearing thin...” he snarled, but she was unmoved and continued to glare coldly. “I do not allow Ransoms to be kept longer than one year," he said. "After that, they are returned, though please do not publicise that one too much. Most dragons will secretly return their Ransoms long before, if they believe there is no profit. They risk punishment if their guest falls ill or comes to accidental harm. As I say, no dragon wants to keep a Ransom around for longer than absolutely necessary. The trick is finding a balance: a sum that will be paid, and quickly. The onus is on the Taker to learn the circumstances of their guest, and decide on a fair price for their return, which I approve. And once it has been paid, the guest is returned. Immediately, unhurt, and healthy.” Ragnarok left his throne. He brought his belly to the ground, his snout close to Celestia’s, frowned, and hissed slowly through gritted teeth. “Ransom is a tradition thousands of years old. It cannot simply be abolished wholesale. But in my time as King, I have done everything to make it safer, fairer, and less attractive. And for this... you judge me cruel?” “You tell me you are not a liar, yet you say one thing while doing another,” objected Celestia. “You say there is no point in asking for a ransom that cannot possibly be paid, and that is exactly what you have done!” “If the griffon’s family do not wish to pay for her return then they have only to wait a year, possibly less depending on how patient Fenrir is. The price they will pay will instead be the time they have lost together. But if that is the case, then perhaps they do not care about her as much as they should. Better she learns that herself.” “How can you be so heartless? Erica’s parents love her! They came to me distraught, on bended knee begging me to speak to you. They desperately want their daughter back, but the price you have set is far beyond their means!” “One hundred diamonds? Beyond the means of Griffon royalty? I hardly think so. Tell me you would not pay such a trivial sum to see someone you loved again.” “They are farmers!” shouted Celestia in exasperation. “And they have lost all hope of seeing their daughter again because of the amount you are expecting from them.” Ragnarok narrowed his eyes suspiciously. For a long moment he said nothing. Then, at last, “Farmers?” “Yes!” cried Celestia. Ragnarok drew himself up, but continued to stare at her with suspicion for several seconds. When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble; a simmering, contained fury. “As it happens, with you here the amount is inconsequential anyway. But at least one of us has been lied to, Celestia. And if I find out that it is me, I will have Fenrir’s head!” he roared. Ragnarok stood abruptly and marched for the tunnel entrance, striding through it and emerging once more into the desert sun. Outside on the flat, bleached rock of the desert floor, he looked around to see Celestia following him closely, and he spread his wings wide. “Fenrir is a good subject on a rotten run of luck, Celestia, but that is no excuse. If I come to believe for one moment that he has deceived me and put a Ransom at risk just to turn a larger profit, then he will suffer more than he ever thought possible.” He beat his wings and took off, Celestia following him into the sky and together they struck eastwards towards the pillar of rock. ––– Keeping pace with Ragnarok through the air, Celestia felt uncomfortable. She had hoped that after she had explained why she had come, she might at least be able to gauge whether Ragnarok was likely to allow Erica to go free. And yet, now, she still had no idea how this might play out. But she could at least take some comfort from the fact that, if Ragnarok was to be believed – and she found she did believe him – then Erica was at least unhurt, if not exactly what she would call, ‘safe.’ As for Ragnarok, she couldn’t quite get a handle on him. He seemed to swing wildly, belligerent one minute, and willing to listen to reason the next. She wanted to believe that the dragon she had shared so much with all those years ago was still there, but so far, she didn’t think she had reached him. And then, even as that thought crossed her mind, he turned to her in flight and locked her gaze. “Tell me, are you any closer? To bringing your sister home?” he asked softly. Celestia was surprised. She broke eye-contact and looked ahead. “Is now really the appropriate time to speak of this?” “Unless you wish to fly in silence. Though, at your pace, Mesa is many more uncomfortable minutes away.” There was a long pause. “You said you came to speak to me,” he pointed out. “If that is true, then I would welcome you to speak.” Celestia sighed. “No... I am no closer. Everything I try seems destined to fail. It could take forever to find a way to reach her, and I am not sure even that would be long enough.” “Do you have forever?” he asked with a curious look. When he received only a confused expression as a reply he shook his head gently. “Every morning since we last met, I have watched the sunrise, dreading the day when it would fail to grace the horizon. Wondering what would become of the world the first day you were not there. Now, three hundred and twenty-six years later I set eyes on you again... and you have not aged a day.” He glanced at her again. “How long are you going to live, Celestia?” “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “How long are you going to live?” He put on a wry grin. “Hmm. Touché.” He looked at her seriously once again. “Then... how long are you going to continue this? Your futile pursuit?” She looked back in mild shock. “Futile? Would you have me give up? Abandon my own sister?” He gave her an apologetic look. “I don't say it lightly, or out of disrespect, but... it has been more than half a millenia. And you say you are no closer? How long before you recognise that... perhaps it is simply not possible? How long before you allow yourself to move on?” “I won’t abandon her. I won’t just forget about her.” “I am not suggesting you forget her,” said Ragnarok patiently, with far more tact than he had ever shown before. “But while you continue to search without hope, that wound you carry beneath your cloak will never heal. You must allow yourself to grieve, Celestia. You must allow yourself forgiveness, and you cannot do so until you accept that she is gone.” Celestia frowned resolutely. “She’s not gone. And there is always hope. Even when the task appears impossible. If Luna were in my place... I know she would never stop trying to reach me. I owe her the same.” Ragnarok looked back to her once again. Except now, there was more than apology in his eyes. There was pity. “You are determined never to forget your sister. I only ask that you not forget yourself.” Ragnarok dipped his wings and began to descend towards the giant rock pillar, closer now, leaving Celestia behind. The wide, roughly circular pillar thrust upwards from the desert floor, rising over a kilometer into the air. The walls were of red rock and into the vertical surfaces, on every aspect, were excavated hundreds upon hundreds of huge, semi-natural caves. Even as she observed, she saw one or two dragons leaving through different openings, and taking wing. Celestia angled her wings and followed Ragnarok’s path through the air, catching him as they descended towards one particular, unremarkable cave opening about half-way up the western-most face of the pillar. “This is Mesa. You may think of it as a city, if you wish. Each cave is a different lair. That one there is Fenrir’s,” said Ragnarok, Celestia following him down. They alighted on the lip of the cave and ducked inside. The cave walls were the same red sandstone as the walls of the pillar, and cave itself did not seem to end. Instead, beyond the large, bulbous entrance it twisted and turned as though a tunnel, and Celestia was given the impression that it extended deep into the pillar, possibly connecting to other chambers or lairs in the manner of an anthill or termite mound. Of Erica there was no sign, but a short distance inside the entrance, Captain Valiant and her crewmate were waiting standoffishly with Vanir and another dragon. Fenrir, she assumed. His scales were of a yellow-green colour, but about him there was little else that was remarkable. Celestia saw Ragnarok fix him with a hard stare as he approached, and he looked a confused shade of nervous under it. “Vanir? I am done with you for the day. Leave us. I have questions for Fenrir,” said Ragnarok ominously. Vanir immediately bowed and headed for the cave entrance, spreading his wings and leaping into the air without further ceremony. Ragnarok continued to fix Fenrir’s gaze. “M–my Lord? You wish to inspect my Ransom?” asked Fenrir, cringing under Ragnarok’s stare now. Ragnarok nodded slowly. “You will note, Fenrir, that I have not come alone,” he said. “Princess Celestia of Equestria is here as my guest. I will warn you now, not to make the mistake of showing her any less respect than you would show me. And she has brought me some very disturbing news about which I must question you.” “Yes, my Lord?” said Fenrir. His confusion only rose. “When you first took your ransom, you informed me that she was royalty. A griffon princess if I recall correctly. It is for that reason I approved your price. Tell me, Fenrir... how did you learn of her status?” Ragnarok’s eyes could have burned a hole in Fenrir from the look he was giving him. “I... asked her, your majesty. She told me.” “And what, exactly, did she tell you?” Ragnarok’s voice held an unsubtle accusatory edge. “My Lord, her exact words were, ‘I’m a very important Princess, so you’d better let me go right now, or else my father will come after you with a whole army.’” Ragnarok blinked. In fact he was stunned into silence for what was probably the first time ever. He looked quickly at Celestia, though she remained composed enough not to betray to him any emotion, and then back to Fenrir. Then, finally, he buried his head in his foreclaws for several seconds. When he finally looked back up, there wasn’t even any anger. There wasn’t any point! “Fenrir?” he said carefully. “You are an idiot. And you are extremely lucky that I believe you are an idiot.” “My Lord?” “She is a farmer’s daughter, Fenrir...” Ragnarok rumbled. “My Lord... she said–!” “Shut up, Fenrir. Just shut up,” said Ragnarok, still bewildered. “Where is she?” “She is through there, my Lord,” said Fenrir, motioning to the rear of the cave where the tunnel forked, twisting and turning out of sight in both left and right directions. “My Lord, I promise I thought the price was fair!” “Get out, Fenrir. Just... go somewhere else. I do not wish to see you. In fact, I am probably going to be screaming your name at the walls very shortly.” Fenrir, still looking utterly confused, not to mention perturbed at being thrown out of his own cave, nevertheless apparently decided arguing was not in his best interests. He bowed twice, once to Ragnarok and once to Celestia, and then headed for the cave entrance and took wing. When Celestia looked back, Ragnarok was gazing at a neutral spot on the floor of the cave. “This has left me in a very awkward position,” he said, though it sounded like he was speaking half to himself. Then, he looked at her. “I would dearly love to banish Fenrir to a barren, coal-filled wasteland for eternity and a day. But unfortunately, catastrophic idiocy is not a crime. No,” he growled, “Fenrir has abided by the rules. The fault lies with me, for blindly approving his price without investigating it. And since this ransom would be paid but can’t, then not only have I lost my share, but now I am going to have to compensate him his asking price out of my own horde. This upsets me a great deal.” Then, after a pause, he broke into one of his familiar, wicked, toothy grins. “But it also means that the burden of this ransom is now mine. And I am free to exact my compensation from you...” Celestia felt herself startle at that, but her composure remained intact. She planted her hooves and subconsciously lowered her horn a tad. “I will agree to nothing until I see she is safe, Ragnarok.” “Of course,” he said with a smirk. He raised a foreclaw and pointed towards the tunnel at the rear of the cave, and motioned her to go ahead. Celestia followed the line of his outstretched claw, walking towards what was, to her, the right-hand fork in a huge, red sandstone cavern. She rounded the corner, keeping the cave wall on her right, and found that this passageway was really akin to a huge alcove rather than an extension of the tunnel. And nestled against the far wall of the alcove, near where cave wall seamlessly joined cave floor, she saw her. She appeared to be asleep, though restlessly so. Erica had her father’s grey feathers and fur, but her mother’s speckles. She found it difficult to judge ages with griffons, but she seemed adolescent; certainly closer to adult than child. Celestia felt her teeth clench when she saw the shackle. A band of grey iron clasped loosely but securely around one of her hindlegs, affixed to the cave wall by a lengthy chain. But within easy reach of her was a large trough filled with water, and another filled with grain and oats, and from a quick, cursory exam, she did appear uninjured. She approached her. “Erica?” she said softly, offering her a gentle nuzzle to rouse her. “Erica? Wake up.” The griffon, lying on her back on the floor beneath her groaned, frowned, and then finally opened her eyes. “Mmnh,” she said. Then her eyes focussed. “Wha...? Who’re you?” she asked nervously. Celestia smiled reassuringly. “My name is Celestia. Are you alright?” “Ungh, yeah, I’m okay. Bit of a headache from all the heat. Really nice to see a friendly face though.” Erica slowly raised herself and sat, and looked up. Then she seemed to register the crown, the amulet, the golden horseshoes, and recognition appeared to click. “Whoa. Princess Celestia? As in, from Canterlot? What are you doing here? The dragons didn’t get you too, did they?” “You don’t need to call me Princess,” said Celestia with a kind smile. “I came to find you. Your parents are in Canterlot. They’re worried about you. I’m glad to see you’re not hurt.” Erica’s face brightened at the mention of her parents, then fell once more. “I’m really sorry. If I hadn’t got caught, then you wouldn’t have got dragged into this too. Still, at least your ransom’ll probably get paid.” She sighed heavily. “Word of advice? Don’t tell them you’re a princess if you’re really not, cuz... that’s what I did.” Erica looked up at her now, tears slowly beginning to form. “I really messed up, Princess. The dragons think my mom and dad are rich enough to pay to get me back. Now they think I’m lying when I tell them they’re not and... and... I’m gonna be stuck here forever.” There was only pity, and on instinct Celestia reached out for Erica and drew her into a warm, comforting hug. And as Erica gratefully received it and hugged back, the shackle around her hindleg shifted, clinking softly against the chain. It was enough. Celestia’s gaze once more found the foul restraint and she felt her anger rising afresh. It didn’t matter what Ragnarok wanted. It didn’t matter about his price. She wouldn’t leave Erica here. Not now that she was with her. Not now that she had hope. She couldn’t abandon her. In a flash of bitter pique she lit her horn, channelling obscene amounts of magical energy directly into the ironwork and a moment later, the shackle and half of the chain it was attached to simply disintegrated, reduced to particles no larger than grains of sand and cast outwards as though on the shockwave of a small explosion. “Don’t worry,” she whispered soothingly. “You’re going to be okay.” But Erica apparently didn’t think so. She looked down, horrified, at the remains of the chain that no longer tethered her to the cave wall. “What... what did you do?” She stared wide-eyed at Celestia. “Oh no, the dragons are gonna be so mad!” “Indeed?” came Ragnarok’s deep voice from the cave proper. “Well that would be nothing out of the ordinary.” Celestia turned to see him approaching, lumbering round the corner towards the alcove. On instinct, she stepped protectively in front of Erica, but it was Erica who shouted up. “No, please! It was an accident. Don’t hurt her!” Ragnarok simply grinned toothily back at Erica. “Hurt her? Believe me, the thought has never once crossed my mind.” He turned to her. “You will forgive the intrusion, Celestia, but the sound does tend to carry, and you are rather dragging this out.” Celestia was about to reply coldly when a gasp from Erica drew her attention there instead. She looked back around to see Erica recoiling away, her face suddenly a contorted mask of fright and betrayal that was just heart-wrenching to see. “Princess? You... you’re with them? You’re with the dragons?” she asked. “I assure you that she is not,” said Ragnarok quickly. “And I will simply tell you that which she seems to be dancing around.” He looked at Erica and lowered his tone to something softer and smoother. “Princess Celestia is here to take you home,” he said. Erica looked between Ragnarok and Celestia, fright slowly giving way to cautious hope. “You... are you paying my ransom?” “Personally,” said Ragnarok, “I would prefer you think of this as a rescue. Princess Celestia has battled her way to the heart of the cruel dragon’s lair to save you. Do not trouble yourself with what she has had to sacrifice to do so. Now, if you wish to be saved, there are two ponies with a chariot around the corner, near the entrance. Go and wait with them. Celestia and I have a final piece of unfinished business.” “So, you’re letting me go? Just like that? Wait... sacrifice?” said Erica in sudden, horrible understanding. She looked to Ragnarok and then, in terror, to Celestia. “He’s not keeping you instead is he?” It was Ragnarok’s turn to be surprised. Then he composed his features into a thoughtful smirk. “Now there’s a thought...” he said stroking his chin. After a moment, realising that his humour had once again fallen on deaf ears, he put on a serious expression and looked at Erica again. “A poor turn of phrase on my part. Rest assured that Celestia will be leaving with you. In fact, if you wouldn’t mind, please would you inform her guards outside that I have still not eaten her?” he finished. Erica looked once more to Celestia, and Celestia spoke softly to her. “It’s alright, Erica. I will be okay. Go and find Valiant Song. She’ll take care of you.” Erica was still a little hesitant, and she moved cautiously past Ragnarok into the main passage in the cave, heading left towards the entrance. Just as she reached the limit of vision she looked back, and she gave Celestia a look of pure gratitude before finally passing out of sight. Celestia was silent for a few moments. She looked at the floor and felt Ragnarok’s quiet stare on her. Finally, she looked up at him. “You’ll let me take her home, then? You’ll let me leave with her?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper. Ragnarok’s face softened, and he lay down on his belly, fixing her gaze with serious eyes. “Do you really believe I would let you leave without her?” When Celestia didn’t reply, he sighed heavily. “‘Cruel,’” he said. “I could be called that by any of my subjects, and I would think it a tremendous compliment. I hear it from your lips, and it cuts me deeper than any wound I’ve ever suffered. To know that you think me cruel.” There was a short pause. Then he blinked, and when Ragnarok spoke again his voice had returned to a low growl. “Perhaps you should. This is still a ransom, Celestia, and there is still a price.” “Yes,” said Celestia with a sigh. She had been expecting it, but the sting in the tail was still potent. “One hundred diamonds.” “Oh, Celestia. No no no. This is my ransom now. Were you not listening earlier? The price of the ransom is determined by what the other party is able to afford. And you can afford a great deal more. I do not want diamonds. I do not even want wealth. From you, I want something far more valuable.” “Just tell me, Ragnarok!” snapped Celestia impatiently. There was another, brief pause. “A debt,” he said. “A favour, if you like. From the Princess of Equestria herself, to me. To be called upon whenever and for whatever reason I so choose.” “What... what kind of favour?” “Whatever I want. The exact nature for me to decide, and at my leisure,” he said. He narrowed his eyes. “How much value do you place on a life, Celestia, for that is what I have given you today. I suspect it is quite a lot. In fact, I suspect you would say it cannot be measured. Let’s just say that when I come for it, I intend to demand something of equal worth.” Ragnarok drew himself back up to his full height. “You do not have to agree, but if you refuse then I will let you be the one to tell young Erica that she will be staying here after all, and why. I will even let you put the shackle back on,” he said, though his grin was gone now and there was no trace of humour anymore. “I see this choice makes you uncomfortable, but this is what happens when Princess Celestia, the most powerful ruler in the known world storms into another country uninvited; into an affair in which she has no interest, and begins throwing her weight around! You come to me asking me to release a prisoner and go against thousands of years of tradition and my own subjects’ needs... do you really expect me to be able to say ‘no’ to you?” “Ragnarok... I would not have you believe that I intended to threaten you, even implicitly. Please... I came to you in peace. I came to speak to you.” Ragnarok shook his head slowly with a sad, disappointed expression. “Oh, Celestia. You don’t understand do you? I am not afraid of you. I am not threatened by you. I have bent over backwards for you, and everything I have done I have done because I–!” He cut himself off and growled. “Nevermind. Perhaps one day you will work it out yourself.” He fixed her with a deep, angry frown. “I’ve done everything in my power to accommodate you, Celestia, and I have given you what you wanted. And when I ask you for something as simple as a favour in return, you hesitate. Because you do not trust me. Because I am, ‘cruel.’  “Go. Take Erica and agree to my terms, and perhaps one day you will learn just how cruel I am... or refuse and abandon her here. I will demand a pittance as ransom from her family instead and she will likely be home within a month. And you will be safe in the knowledge that I will never trouble you again.” He thrust his forearm towards the cave passage, directing her to go. Celestia, with the dreading sense that she had finally worn out her welcome, walked back towards the passageway, heading left, leaving Ragnarok to follow slowly behind. He loitered at the junction of the alcove and the passageway, as Celestia returned to her chariot to see Erica talking to Valiant Song. “Princess! Oh, sorry, I mean Celestia,” said Erica happily, “Oh man, I’m glad you’re okay. We can leave now, right? We’re all getting out of here?” she asked nervously. “You’re taking me home, like the dragon said?” Her golden eyes were so bright. So lively and full of hope. Celestia took a breath and steeled herself. “No,” she said with a kind, warm smile. “I am taking you to Canterlot. Your mother and father are there, and they will be pleased to see you’re safe.” She motioned Erica towards the chariot and she took a seat. Before Celestia could climb aboard though, Valiant Song fixed her with a steely stare. “Princess? When we get back, we’re going to have a talk about what is and what is not acceptable protection policy inside enemy territory.” Celestia nodded. Captain Valiant’s tone might have been brusque, but it was only because she cared. She noted that Valiant was looking past her now, deeper into the cave. Celestia looked around. There was Ragnarok, still deeper inside, standing, looking at her with a stare like cold flint. But his expression was neutral and she could not read it at all. “The point is well taken, Captain Valiant,” said Celestia, not for a moment breaking Ragnarok’s gaze. “But this is not enemy territory.” She didn’t even blink. “We are not enemies.” She looked away and climbed aboard the chariot. Then, without hesitation, Valiant and her compatriot wheeled, turned, flapped and galloped for the cave entrance, taking flight and soaring into the desert sky, heading north for Equestria, and Canterlot. Erica’s face was a picture of surprised relief and sheer happiness. But, while she masked it impeccably, Celestia felt anxious. She had made the right decision, but what had she just agreed to? One day you will learn just how cruel I am...