//------------------------------// // To Give a Life // Story: Of Dragons and Horses, Songs and Solace // by 8686 //------------------------------// “Close it, Aesir,” said Ragnarok, his head bowed solemnly. His lair was silent, the other dragons all maintaining respectful poise as Aesir stepped forward and pushed the lid of the chest closed. The latch clicked hollowly as it shut, and with an air of finality that was most unwelcome. Aesir backed away once more to join the other dragons, leaving the tiny wooden chest sitting midway between themselves and Ragnarok’s throne. Ragnarok looked up. “And there is no-one else?” “She was the last of her blood, my Lord,” said Baldur. “My Lord,” said Aesir with a hint of hesitation. “You know we would never give up. But... we have tried everything... literally everything, we can think of. Quite frankly... we are out of ideas.” “It cannot be done. It is futile,” Valkyrie scoffed. “Watch your tone, Valkyrie!” snapped Ragnarok. “You would not be here if your father had given up! You should know this better than most!” “I do!” retorted Valkyrie indignantly. “It is not that I do not care, Ragnarok! But at the risk of stating the obvious, if there is nothing else we can do, then there is nothing we can do! Aesir is correct. Everything that has ever worked, and everything that has never worked, has been tried.” He looked frustratedly at the chest. “There is no solution.” Ragnarok turned his own gaze to the chest, and the enigma within. He refused to believe that. Even when the challenge appeared impossible, one should never give up. There was always hope. Where had he heard that before...? He looked up at the four dragons arrayed before him. “Leave it here with me and go. This is no longer your responsibility. I make it mine.” The four dragons – Aesir, Baldur, Valkyrie and Fenrir, all bowed respectfully and headed for the passageway out of the lair. Ragnarok left his throne and carefully picked up the chest – so small in the palm of his huge claw – and carefully closed his hand around it. There was one thing at least, that had not yet been tried. ––– The castle grounds were beautiful in the early evening, but Celestia didn't have much time to appreciate them as she was shepherded speedily through them by Kibitz. He propelled her with all speed to her final appointment of the day which, she was assured, was absolutely more important than every other appointment that day, and they had to hurry because they were only running sixty seconds early. Celestia smiled as she half-trotted along, almost caught in his wake. He reminded her so much of Tick Tock, another assistant she had once had. He too had a meticulous eye for scheduling, except that Kibitz always seemed to be in a stress whenever things didn't go exactly to plan. Luckily, she had worked out how to handle him. All she needed to do was stay just one step ahead – any more and he felt unappreciated. Any less and he felt she was not taking things seriously. Although with Kibitz, being one step ahead rarely left her with more than thirty seconds to work with. They sauntered briskly through the castle gardens, passing the entrance to the hedge-maze and heading back towards the castle itself, the wonderful scent of hundreds of flowers carried to them on the warm breeze. As their path took them beneath the golden apple tree, they were halted by the arrival of three ponies. All three were unicorns. The first was grey-coated and bore the familiar, ubiquitous armour of the Royal Guard. The second was white-coated, with a blue mane and a fresh face, and also wore armour though his attire marked him as a cadet. The third was also white-coated but bore no vestments. He had a dark grey mane with a moustache, and his cutie-mark appeared to be three ovoid, stitched sport-balls. They approached her and Celestia stopped beneath the apple tree to recognise them, much to Kibitz’s clear consternation. “Princess? Please forgive the interruption,” said the guard, pulling up and giving a smooth salute. His younger companion did the same, though he fluffed it noticeably, his hoof snapping to his head in a jerky motion and hitting his helmet, causing it to skew badly, almost covering one eye. Oh, that brought back memories. Celestia felt a sudden wave of nostalgia. Another pony had done something almost identical, so long ago. The guard looked reproachfully at his young protegé, then back to Celestia. “Apologies, Princess. This is literally his second day. Good, stout colt here, your highness. A little rough around the edges, but we’ll whip him into shape.” “That’s quite alright, Private.” She turned to the young trainee. “What’s your name?” “Cadet Shining Armor, Princess,” he said, with an enthusiastic, if nervous smile, as he hastily readjusted his helmet... “Don’t worry about it, cadet. I imagine you didn’t think you’d be meeting the Princess on your second day,” she said with her own, reassuring smile. Then she addressed all three members of the party, though directed most of her focus toward the third member of the group. “How can I help you?” The Private turned to the moustachio’d pony. “Tell the Princess exactly what you told us,” he said. The final member of the group dipped his head in a quick bow. “Name’s Flanks, your majesty. Hondo Flanks. I’m from a little town not far away called Ponyville? Not sure if you’ve heard of it?” “I know it,” said Celestia. She had practically caused the town to happen, not all that long ago actually, in the grand scheme. “Quaint village, nice folks... good apples too. Me and the wife came there to settle down. Start a family. Got our second foal on the way–” he cut himself off at a quick stare from the senior Guard-pony. “Sorry, Princess. Anyway, I’m out fishing by myself today when all of a sudden there’s this huge dragon just dropping out of the sky on me, right into the lake dontcha-know?” “A dragon?” interrupted Celestia. “Boy yes,” said Hondo. “Big bronze one. Anyway, he points to Canterlot up on the mountain here and asks if that’s where you live. I say yes, and he says to me he says... sorry Princess, he told me I had to say it exactly right, y’see... he says, ‘Go and tell Celestia I have come to collect my debt.’ Then he was flying off into the Everfree. Said you’d know where to meet him. Which is good, because he actually didn’t tell me, y’see.” Beneath her regal calm, Celestia’s blood ran cold. But so practised was she with her composure, that she let not even a hint of it escape. So. Today was the day. “Thank you, Mr. Flanks. Private? Cadet? Please see our guest is returned to the station in time for the last train home?” “Of course your highness.” Then they were turning and trotting off through the gardens. Kibitz, who had been subtly expressing his impatience throughout the conversation, looked at Celestia with an expression that could only read, If you’re quite finished? Celestia dipped her head and sighed. “Kibitz? You will have to cancel my final engagement of the evening, I am afraid.” “Princess, that’s quite impossible! It is only the most–” “Kibitz... I am sorry,” said Celestia sadly, giving him a serious look. “I am being called out of Canterlot on urgent business and... well... and I may not be coming back,” she said, holding his gaze. There was a short pause. “You mean tonight, Princess?” “No. I mean ever.” ––– It had been easy enough to find from the air. The ruined castle at the centre of a forest, that Celestia had told him of all those years ago. He had never forgotten the story. He lay on his belly just outside the castle ruins, not far from a deep ravine across from which an ancient rope-bridge now hung uselessly from the far cliff. The chest he placed before him carefully. He waited. And while he waited, in the absence of anything better to do, he sang. A faint, haunting melody that spoke of loss, of hope, of salvation, and of love. His voice carried on the evening air as the light slowly faded, the sun slowly set, and the moon slowly rose into the sky. And a few minutes later, she arrived. Celestia descended elegantly, her broad wings catching the air with finesse and poise, and she alighted gently upon the earth. She approached him with a faint, sad smile and at last she spoke. “You have quite a wonderful singing voice. I would not have guessed it.” “I seldom get to make use of it. I spend far too much time using my voice to shout at my subjects. I swear, they become more incompetent with each passing decade. Or perhaps I am simply becoming more bitter in my old age.” She hadn’t noticed it at first, for the light had faded by the time she arrived. But as she looked closer she could see the signs of age upon him. He was by no means decrepit, and he still seemed strong and healthy, but he certainly could no longer be described as youthful. Ragnarok spoke again, his voice becoming serious and professional. “Princess Celestia. Many years ago, I gave a life to you. The time has now come for me to collect on that debt. I am here because I want payment in kind.” Celestia continued to hold his gaze, but couldn’t stop herself from flinching slightly. So, this was it then. This was what he wanted. What he meant when he had said she would see how cruel he was, all that time ago. “You demand I give you a life in return?” she said. It wasn’t really a question. “Yes.” Celestia at last broke his gaze and looked at the ground. “I understand,” she said quietly, steeling herself. There was after all, only one life that she had any right to offer him. “Will you allow me to prepare?” she asked. “I have not managed to put everything in place that I wanted to before I left this evening. I fear for the future of Canterlot if I do not return, at least for one more day. Please, do not let my subjects suffer.” Ragnarok raised an eyebrow. What was she... Oh! She actually thought he was asking...! Oh, how wonderful! Ponies: such fun! “No, Celestia. You have had centuries to prepare already. I will collect my debt tonight. Now.” Celestia nodded. “Very well,” she whispered. She looked up at him, plaintively. “Please? You will make it quick?” “You will feel nothing. I promise you,” he said with a wicked grin. Celestia nodded and bowed her head, closing her eyes. As she did so, a tear escaped. She had always known it might come to this. There was the faintest of snaps. And a long wait. And the end did not come. In fact it smelled faintly of flowers. “Open your eyes, Celestia.” She opened her eyes and looked up to find, directly in front of her muzzle, a single white rose plucked from a nearby bush and held improbably by Ragnarok’s huge claw. As she took it in her aura – still surprised – he broke into a wide, smug smirk. “Still unable to grasp this, ‘joke’ concept, I see. Please, Celestia, do you really believe I have come all this way to hurt you? I enjoy talking to you far too much to want that.” Celestia finally looked from the rose to Ragnarok. “Then... why are you here?” “I told you. To call in my favour; to collect my debt.” Celestia made no reply save for a look of confusion. She looked at the rose, and then absently tucked it into her mane behind her ear, still quite perplexed. Sensing he would get no further prompt, Ragnarok took a deep breath. “How much do you know of dragon reproduction?” he asked. Celestia blinked in surprise. “Very little,” she said. “The few times we have spoken are almost the only times ponies have had contact with dragons. It’s not a subject that has ever come up in our previous conversations,” she pointed out. Ragnarok nodded slowly. “There is little mystery to it,” he explained. “The mechanics are by no means unusual. When a male and a female dragon come together, the female will bear an egg and birth it. It is... what comes after that is the problem.” He sighed heavily. “We are magical creatures, Celestia. Did I ever tell you?” By way of demonstration he opened his mouth slightly and produced a lick of crimson flame, far deeper in colour than natural fire. “There was a time, long, long ago, when our most practised magic wielders could have rivalled yours for mastery of the arcane. But, thanks to lethargy and stagnation, it is a skill we have all but lost. Today, even our most powerful Warlocks can conjure nothing more substantial than a stiff breeze. It is pathetic, really. Unfortunately, whatever power runs this world, whether nature, evolution, or perhaps the same god that sees fit to entrust the sun and moon to a creature of flesh and blood and emotion – for I hope that is what you still are, Celestia – remembers this, and so Fate sees fit to play upon us a cruel joke. “The vestigial magic in us permeates our eggs, and brings with it a bitter trait. An egg will never hatch unless and until certain... ‘conditions’, for want of a better word... are met. They may be simple or complicated, few or numerous... but they are always random. Neither their nature, nor the number of them can be predicted. It was easier long ago, when our command of magic was more fluent, but hatching an egg has ever been a case of trial-and-error, and a great deal of luck. “Over the centuries, we developed techniques. We learned that many of the conditions, while not identical, were similar, and could be met with similar scenarios. By changing the temperature until it was right, for example, or taking the egg to a specific location within sight of both a mountain and an ocean; or doing both at once. An entire science has built up around hatching eggs, and with enough perseverance and enough time, the shell will eventually crack. But therein lies the rub. Time. “It cannot be forced, and finding the right conditions can take years. Decades. Centuries. A lucky family can hatch an egg within months. Most will find a way to hatch within ten years. But some...” he looked at her now, clear sadness in his eyes and his voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I have seen dragons so happy to birth an egg, only to spend their whole lives in anguish... consumed by their quest to hatch it; to want it so badly, only for it not to be. For a dragon to succumb to age having failed to bring their child into the world, never having seen the face of their offspring... it is terrible. “But we never give up on an egg, Celestia. If a parent dies, their family and friends continue trying until the egg is hatched, and thus the line carries on. I never knew my own father. I was raised by Valhalla, the king before me. It has ever been thus. And it is for this reason I come to you now...” Ragnarok carefully, delicately unlatched the clasp of the small wooden chest before him, raised the lid, and there it was, nestled securely against deep, padded walls of red silk. A dragon egg. About twice the size of a goose egg, with a pale purple shell and darker purple spots, it also held a faint green fleck, unnoticeable unless you looked very closely. It looked almost comically small next to Ragnarok’s massive frame. So delicate. So tiny. Celestia approached it, examined it, and finally looked up at Ragnarok, her mouth open in awe. “This is the life I would have you give me, Celestia,” he said. Celestia’s voice was a surprised whisper. “You... wish me to hatch an egg for you?” Ragnarok nodded solemnly. “Embla was so determined. She lived longer than most – she was almost as old as me, and I am convinced that it was her drive to see her son into the world that kept her going for as long as she did. But she was lost to time yesterday, and she was the last of her three siblings. There are no others of her family left to take up the egg. “I will not say how old the egg is. Only that it is the longest egg that has never hatched, and that we have tried everything of which we are capable.” He looked at Celestia seriously. “Believe me, that is a lot. But there is life here, Celestia. It can be done. Fate would not be so cruel as to condemn an unborn child, but our knowledge and ability is exhausted. You... are the only one I know that might still be capable of bringing this dragon into the world. And the only one I trust to do so.” Celestia nodded gravely. She lit her horn and gently enveloped the egg in her magical aura, lifting it, turning it. So delicate. She returned it to the chest and slowly closed the lid. She looked up at him. “Suppose it hatches? You would have me return it to you?” Ragnarok gave a nasal chuckle. “It may take you a long time, Celestia. I may not be around myself when the shell finally cracks, and there are none of Embla’s family left who can care for him. No, when I asked you for a life, I meant a whole life. I would see you...” He cut himself off, then began again, his tone sincere. “That is, I would ask... that you raise him among your people. Show him what it is like to trust and care for others. Teach him what it means to be kind and generous, not greedy and selfish, and perhaps one day... when he is old enough...” He trailed off again. Then he snorted. “Pah! A foolish, romantic notion perhaps.” He once more looked sincerely into her eyes. “This is the favour I ask of you, Celestia. Will you grant it?” Celestia once more looked at the chest. “I will,” she said. “Thank you.” Then, picking up on the wording in the previous conversation, she once more looked up. “He?” she inquired. “As opposed to, ‘it’," said Ragnarok dismissively. “The pale shell with dark spots are indicative of a male, most of the time, and... Embla always hoped for a son. I simply want her last wish to come true.” “Does he have a name?” asked Celestia. Ragnarok was surprised at that. “She never made mention of it,” he admitted. “The name, I leave to you.” There was an uncertain pause. “Though... please make it something at least dragon-like? Not ‘Sunny Cloud’ or something? I know how you ponies like to name things.” Celestia chuckled at that, and they found themselves sharing a laugh. It ran its course, eventually ending with a pair of sighs. “I looked into it,” said Celestia. “In eight hundred years, not one pony has been taken for ransom by your people.” “Hmm, interesting,” said Ragnarok thoughtfully. “I wonder if there is a reason, or perhaps it is simply luck.” “I think there is a reason,” said Celestia. “Perhaps.” Ragnarok smirked. “In truth, your last visit did more to tear down the institution of Ransom than anything I have done. Dragons were suddenly very wary of taking them when they heard that to do so might invoke the fury and wrath of a powerful Equestrian warrior Princess.” “Fury? Wrath?” said Celestia, shocked. “Ragnarok, I didn’t–!” “Yes, I know you didn’t,” said Ragnarok, smirk still firmly in place. “But that is the interpretation I, 'encouraged' Vanir and Fenrir put on it, and a useful one it was too. Afterwards, Ransoms became almost once-in-a-decade affairs, and their asking prices were so low as to be comical. And ever since, they have rather gone out of fashion. So once again, I must thank you, Celestia.” Ragnarok dipped his head respectfully, and Celestia nodded back. Then, he stood and spread his wings, catching Celestia by surprise. “Are you in a hurry to be away?” Ragnarok turned to look back at her. “I thought you had many important things to do. I thought you ‘feared for the future of Canterlot’?” “Truly, that is because I did not believe I would be going back. There is nothing I need to do that cannot wait at least until morning, and I doubt I will find the solution to your egg tonight. If you wish... we can talk.” Ragnarok folded his wings and lay down, settling on his belly with a smile. “I would enjoy that.” ––– “What would have happened?” They lay side by side, together beneath the stars. “Hmm?” Ragnarok fixed her with one eye. “Indulge me. Had you met your end tonight... what would happen to the sun?” Celestia looked to the sky. “Before I was born, a cadre of unicorns were responsible for magically bringing forth day and night. Were I not... ‘available’... the practise would fall to them once more.” “Before you were born?” He shook his head gently. “Hard to imagine. Harder still to imagine you as anything other than you are now. I recall you telling me you were once a young filly, galavanting around this very castle with your little sister. You must have got into all sorts of trouble.” “We did,” agreed Celestia with a distant smile. She looked back at the castle, and then up at the sky. The moon was full tonight. She had made it thus, planning to go to her end having seen Luna one last time, if only from a distance. “I am so worried, Ragnarok,” she whispered, gazing at her sister’s shadow on the surface. “The enchantment is not permanent, as I once believed. After one thousand years, the alignment of the stars will release it... and that time has almost come. There are only a few years left.” “And then your sister will return? Is this not a good thing? What you have been waiting for for so long?” “She may return,” said Celestia ruefully, “But if she does, it will be as the monster she became, not as the sister I know and love. And I am scared for what I may be required to do... and even more afraid that I will not be able to do it.” She looked up at him, fear and anguish in her eyes. “I would sacrifice the world to protect my little sister,” she half-whispered, then looked at the floor in sorrow. “And there is no way to change her back? No hope at all?” “I’ve searched. How I have searched, for nearly a thousand years. And the only way that I have found that may be possible, I cannot use myself.” She let out a long breath. “You were right, when you talked of Fate playing cruel jokes.” “I see why you have no sense of humour,” said Ragnarok. “You may have to explain the joke though. I’m afraid I don’t, ‘get it.’” Celestia sighed again, and began. “In Equestria, there is a proverb,” she said. “‘Friendship is magic.’ It is an old way of describing the light and love that can be brought into the world by the bonds of friendship. But what most don’t remember, is that it also contains a literal truth. “The Magic of Friendship is a real phenomenon, quite separate from ordinary magic. It is not restricted to any race, and as a force for good, it is incorruptible and immensely powerful,” she said. “It is forged in the bonds of love that exist between only the closest of friends, and, at least in Equestria, it could be harnessed and made manifest by using the six Elements of Harmony. “When Luna and I first found them, we were able to wield them because of the deep bonds of love and friendship we shared. They responded to us. We became their bearers, and together we used them to spread friendship across Equestria, and protect it from harm. When Luna turned... I was forced to wield all six of the Elements against her. In doing so, we broke our bonds with each other and with the Elements, and they abandoned us both. The Magic of Friendship we shared was gone, and so the Element of Magic itself, disappeared from the world entirely.” She looked now at the castle ruins behind her, a grim expression on her face. “The rest lie in there now. Inert. I have been back here since, trying to wield them, begging them to take me back so that I could undo the damage I have done. But they will not listen to me.” “Listen to you? Abandoned you? You speak as if they are alive?” said Ragnarok. Celestia thought about that for a moment. “The Elements themselves are the fruits of a tree that grows nearby,” she said. “So in a real sense, you can think of them as alive. But no, I am personifying them slightly because it is the easiest way to explain how I feel. When Luna transformed into Nightmare Moon, she broke her bond with the Elements and I became their sole bearer. But the Elements were never supposed to be wielded by one individual, even one as powerful as I. Their purpose is to spread harmony – to have only one bearer would defeat the point. When I used them alone it was only because the Elements allowed me to. Because they knew I wasn’t using them for my own interests, I was using them out of love for Luna; to save my sister and protect her, because it was necessary, and because the only alternative was to hurt her.” She shook her head once more. “But while they understood what I needed to do, they were unhappy that our bond had broken, and at being used against a former bearer, and so they left me... choosing to become lifeless rather than be misused again.” “And... you believe they are the only answer?” Celestia nodded sadly. “Their magic sealed Luna in the moon in the first place. It could bring her back, I am certain. And the Magic of Friendship is the only power I know of that might cause Luna to acknowledge the light and love I know is still in her heart. If she can, the monster that has claimed her can be banished and the sister I know and love will return. There is no other way, and believe me... I have looked.” Ragnarok looked back at the ruins of the castle himself. To be so close... to have the knowledge but not the ability to use these magical trinkets. All Celestia wanted... all she had ever wanted since he had known her... was to see her sister again. It would be a fine thing indeed, he thought, if she were happy. “If you wish...” he said hesitantly, “I could try.” When Celestia did a double-take, he smiled and added, “I promise not to eat them until afterwards.” Celestia gave a sad little chuckle. “Hmm. I believe you would struggle with Generosity, and probably Laughter too.” She shook her head. “In any event it would not work. The Element of Magic is gone. It will only return when the Elements sense the presence of the Magic of Friendship, and by definition, friendship cannot be created by one individual. And even though I am here too... well, as I say, they no longer respond to me.” Ragnarok paused. “If not you, then... are there are no others among your kind that can bear them?” he asked. “I find it hard to believe that magical artifacts powered by love and happiness cannot find another home in Equestria, of all places!” Celestia smiled. “The Elements can be wielded by as few as two, but in an ideal world, to achieve their full potential the six Elements would be wielded by six different ponies, each with strong bonds of friendship and love to the others, and each one an exemplar of a particular Element’s virtue. But... I have searched. For over seven hundred years I have searched, and while there have been many outstanding individual candidates, they were scattered across time or circumstance, never all together, and lacking the bonds of friendship that are so crucial. True friendship cannot be forced, it must be allowed to germinate and bloom on its own. And with the groups of friends I have encountered... there is always something missing. Something I cannot put my hoof on. The ‘spark’, as it were. The Magic of Friendship. And now, time is running out. I have all but given up hope that such a group exists, or if it does, that I will find it.” “But you have not given up. Tell me that is so.” He looked at her seriously now. Celestia took another breath and sighed. “Almost,” she said. “There is a school in Canterlot for unicorns gifted with unusual magical ability. There is a young student among them with great potential, that I have recently taken to mentoring.” She smiled. “She is intelligent, with an insatiable curiosity and a desire to learn, and a talent with magic that leads me to believe she could one day wield the Element of Magic. But...” she sighed again. “She seems... disinterested in making friends. She seems to think of other ponies as a burden or a distraction, and she seeks out research and solitude when she could be seeking out fun and happiness. But if I can show her... if she can form bonds of friendship and love with even a few others... she may be the key. But it is a very slim hope.” “And this student of yours? Does she have a name?” queried Ragnarok. Celestia nodded. “Sunset Shimmer,” she said. “If everything comes to pass, and Princess Luna returns and the world is saved, then I am even hopeful that one day, ultimately... she could take on responsibility for the heavens... and finally replace me as ruler of Equestria.” She sighed a final time and dipped her head a little. There had been a lot of explanation there, but... she had never had the chance to actually talk it all through before. To lay it all out in front of someone and have them listen, even if all they did was listen. It didn't take away the problem, nor did it help her solve it, and yet somehow, the simple act of speaking about it made her feel a little better. A little lighter. A little more hopeful. “I don’t think so,” said Ragnarok, drawing her confused stare. He looked back at her once more, with one eye and a grin. “Replace you? You... are irreplaceable, Celestia. The world would be a much less interesting place without you in it. Please, do not go considering retirement just yet. I, for one, would miss you.” He barked out a short laugh. “After all, I need someone to antagonise! And who better to have as a nemesis than Equestria’s greatest, most powerful hero?” Celestia smiled, then quirked an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t say I was a hero. And in any case, is that how you see yourself in this tale, Lord Ragnarok? As the villain?” “What else? This is your story after all, Celestia. I am certainly no hero. And I refuse to be labelled your sidekick!” Another barked laugh. “I do not believe ‘Comic Relief’ suits you either,” said Celestia with a smile. Then her look softened. “I have, unfortunately, known more than my share of villains. But... well... a villain would have shown no regard for me or my subjects when we first met; a villain would use their position and power only for their own gain, not for the good of their people and certainly not for others; villains show no compassion to the weak and helpless –” she nudged the chest deliberately with a hoof “– and they are never kind. You... are not a villain, Ragnarok.” “A shame,” he said with a smirk. “I would have liked to have taken a prominent role in your story, but there are very few left for me to fill, it seems. Perhaps, Mysterious Stranger? Wise Mentor?” “Love Interest?” she said, softly. Celestia held his gaze, her eyes at once sad but hopeful, her lips betraying the faintest of smiles. Ragnarok paused, stunned. Then his face softened, becoming the most sensitive expression she had ever seen him portray. “You did work it out then,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. He drew a long breath and let it out. “I think not, Celestia,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Ragnarok,” she whispered. “In eight hundred years since we met, I have seen you three times. And yet I have talked and shared and cried more with you than with ponies I have seen every day and known for their entire lives. There are things I have said to you that I have never been able to tell anyone else. You have listened to my dreams, my hopes and my fears, and from you I have heard the same. You have helped me far, far more than I think you realise. I... I need you. I need to know there is someone out there I can talk to. Why... why can my story not be our story?” she pleaded. Ragnarok smiled a lonesome, sad smile. He spoke softly. “Oh, Celestia. Believe me, it is not that I don’t want to say yes. And it is certainly not that I do not care for you. Were I not a King, and of a different species entirely, then perhaps. But... it is not your destiny to find love here. You will one day, I am certain, and it will be with someone who treats you well and shows you the respect you deserve... not a cruel, heartless dragon such as I. No... I wish it were otherwise, but... this story is not a romance... it is a tragedy.” He forced himself to bark out another laugh, though he almost choked on it. “Fate plays one more cruel joke on us it seems. Besides, look at me! I am old enough to be your father.” “Actually,” said Celestia, straining to keep tears from her eyes, her composure forgotten. “It is more likely that it is the other way around.” She smiled sadly. And he smiled back. The tears came. He stood, rising to all-fours and giving his wings a stretch and a shake. “I may not know what my role in your story is, Celestia, but I at least hope that it is not over yet,” he said with a sad grin. Then, reaching out with a claw, he expertly plucked the white rose he had earlier given her from her mane. “Observe,” he said. “One piece of magic a few of us still retain.” He lifted the rose high into the air and breathed onto it a gentle, tender lick of flame. The rose incinerated, producing no ash, only smoke which coiled into a dark grey ball and refused to dissipate or disperse. Cupping his claws around it, he brought the ball down to Celestia’s level. “Take it,” he said. Celestia lit her horn and conjured a golden aura around the ball of smoke. And at once she could sense that it wasn’t simply a ball of smoke, it was... more somehow. She could sense the shape, the pattern, of something within; she could feel the journey it had made, where it had come from, vague and obscure like the smoke itself, but definitely there. And then, as she concentrated, within her aura, the smoke coiled again. And with a brief flash, astonishingly, the rose reappeared! Completely intact and undamaged. “An old trick, but a useful one,” said Ragnarok. “We are linked now. If I wish, I can send you anything that will burn, from any distance away, to wherever you happen to be in the world. And if you reverse this spell, you can do the same.” He stared at her. “Please, Celestia, keep in touch. Let me know you are safe once in a while.” He smiled. “There is someone out there you can talk to, Celestia. Remember that.” And then, with no further ceremony, Ragnarok beat his wings and leapt into the air. Flustering his limbs powerfully, he gained height, the powerful downdraft ruffling Celestia’s mane, forcing her to close her eyes against the sudden wind. When it faded and she looked up again, Ragnarok was wheeling away into the sky, a huge black shape sillhouetted against the stunning, silver moon. He made southwards over the tree-tops, and was gone. Celestia looked down at the rose once more in her aura, and then focused beyond it to the chest at her hooves. She opened the chest, carefully placed the rose inside, next to the egg, and closed it again. Then she took it in her magic and spread her own wings. She took one last look round, at the surroundings with which she was well acquainted. An ancient castle she had once proudly called home. But no more. She took to the air easily, gaining height and heading for Canterlot, with her new precious cargo in tow. She had seen exactly how cruel Ragnarok could be. And it was not very.