//------------------------------// // Epilogue - Stories Untold // Story: Cartography of War // by Daetrin //------------------------------//         Twilight carefully put the last yellowed page with the others and frowned at the pile she’d rescued from the archives.  They finished turning white as she watched, returning to crisp paper under her gaze.  “That can’t be right,” she muttered.  “Where’s the rest of it?  That can’t be the end of their story.”         But it seemed to be.  There were other documents accompanying the hoofwritten manuscript, but they were dry records, the agreements established by a diplomat that was very deliberately not named. Transfers of records of those who had fallen in the war and the establishment of a small neutral area on an island off Eyrie’s coast, bland columns of costs and personnel assignments - nothing that shed light on Rose or Gérard’s fate.         There was also nothing about what she had come for, before she’d stumbled across the dusty, forgotten box of records deep in an obscure corner of the archives.  But the dribs and drabs of contact between Changelings and pre-Interregnum ponies were far less important than what she had found, be it ever so incomplete.  And even if there wasn’t any more of the story, she could at least ask someone who had been there.         Well, when she woke up at least.         Twilight kept Luna’s hours more often than Celestia’s, for obvious reasons, but it was just as well she wasn’t required to get a full night’s sleep any more.  And since Luna was awake, she’d probably want to hear about it too.  Twilight gathered up the bundle of papers and vanished from the archives in a burst of purple.         Luna was on the balcony of her tower, watching over the mostly sleeping populace in more ways than one.  Twilight still found Luna’s dreamwalking hard to wrap her mind around, since she could and did appraise every single dream at the same time, but it didn’t stop her from being available for Twilight throughout the small hours.  Of late it had been more work, for she had begun to delve into the dreams of the agonizingly small Changeling population, but she still turned the moment Twilight appeared behind her.  “I know that look,” she said with a fond smile.  “You found something.”         “Not what I was looking for,” she admitted. “But definitely something.” A flicker of thought duplicated the bundle of papers and she set it down in front of Luna, wrapping the original back in its twine.  “It’s history that I hadn’t heard anything about, and you would have missed.  If it’s all true, and I think it is, I wonder why I haven’t heard of it.”         “Was Tia keeping secrets again?”  Luna lofted the first page, peering at it curiously.         “Maybe.  But the documents that came with it were already expurgated when they were written.”  Twilight shook her head.  There were a dozen possible explanations, and she didn’t want to immediately suspect Celestia even if it did fit with certain of her habits.  Instead she raised her voice, calling inside the tower.  “Skyshine?”         The pegasus appeared with such startling alacrity that it seemed she could teleport too.  “Yes, Princess Twilight?”         “Could you have someone make and bind a clear copy of this?”  Duplication was one thing, but making it readable and ready for publishing took more than a simple spell. She proffered the manuscript, and Skyshine took it carefully, no stranger to unique and valuable documents Twilight had dredged from some forgotten hole.         “Of course, Your Highness,” Skyshine said, and vanished again.   Twilight stepped over to join Luna at the balcony rail.  There was no light save moon and stars, but that was more than enough for the Princess of the Night.  She put a wing over Twilight in absentminded intimacy as she looked over the pages, and in return Twilight leaned into her side while the sky to the east grew lighter. After all the dense and difficult work of the past few weeks and months it was nice to find a few quiet hours to share with Luna.  But it was a few hours only, and soon enough Celestia appeared on her own balcony to raise the sun. Luna gave Twilight a nudge once the sun peered over the horizon, and the two of them flitted over to greet their fellow princess.  “Good morning, you two,” Celestia said, exchanging hugs with each of them.  “How was the night?” “Not so unusual for me,” Luna replied.  “But Twilight unearthed something interesting.” “Oh?” Twilight nodded.  “I was wondering if you remembered anything about Compass Rose and Gérard.” Celestia’s eyebrows went up and stayed up.  “Well, that’s a pair of names I haven’t heard for a very long time.” “So you do remember them!”  Twilight’s wings ruffled in suppressed glee.  “I found a document but it seemed incomplete, so maybe you know the rest.” But Celestia shook her head.  “In truth, I know little about either of them beyond the impressions and conclusions I formed when I met them, oh, some thousand years ago now.  Once I left Aerie I never saw either of them again.” “What?  But...it seemed like they were the entire peace effort!” “Spoilers,” Luna murmured reproachfully, and Twilight shot her an apologetic look. “They were,” Celestia allowed.  “Which meant that I wasn’t.  I was...busy, at the time.  Equestria was in a bad way, after the war and, I’m afraid, the Nightmare Winter.”  It was her turn to look apologetic, but Luna waved it away.  It was history, after all. “Oh.”  Twilight frowned, if briefly.  As important as they seemed to her, it was hard to remember the two of them had crossed Celestia’s path but briefly.  “Maybe the gryphons have something, then?” “I would suggest going to the source,” Celestia said gently.  “And asking the hippogriffs.” Twilight’s eyes widened.  She’d heard of hippogriffs in a purely theoretical sense, but she’d never considered them to properly exist as a race, merely the occasional result of interspecies mingling like zonies or mules.  Of course, she’d never had cause to before.  It didn’t take much casting about in the records she’d already devoured to find one small line ceding a previous annexation off the coast of Eyrie to an unnamed tribe of hippogriffs, and from there it was only a small leap to connect that with the history she already knew. “I think I will,” she said, mentally flipping through her schedule.  Though she hardly had to worry about anything official when it was only a few minutes after dawn.  Most of her tasks were self-imposed, and she still hadn’t cracked the Changeling problem to her satisfaction, but there was dead space for the unexpected built into her morning routine.  This certainly qualified.  “Do you want to come with me, Luna?” Luna pursed her lips in thought.  “I think I shall pass this time.  Changelings sleep late and their dreams are hard to grapple with.  Out of Equestria it might not be possible at all.”  Then she flashed a smile.  “Besides, I haven’t finished the story.  It wouldn't do to skip ahead.” Twilight laughed and stole a kiss from her.  “All right, I’ll fill you in when I get back.  And you too,” she added to Celestia.   “I look forward to it.” Twilight’s horn lit and she winked out of existence.  She’d never been to Eyrie, of course, let alone the unnamed island nearby, but that was no obstacle anymore, and she spread her wings as crisp sea air washed over her.  The ocean shimmered blue below her, and Eyrie looked just as the manuscript had described it, all white and green and plunging water.  It reminded her in certain ways of Canterlot, and she wondered if there had been an influence. The isle she was headed for was a miniature version, with mountains not quite as high, but still ringed by plunging cliffs and covered in verdant forest.  It was several hours past dawn here, so there were already a few people awake and a-wing, silhouettes flitting about a half-vertical town sprawling up and down a mountain face.  They could have been mistaken for gryphons at a distance but for the tails and cutie marks. Twilight dropped down toward one with a talon mark on his flank and he rose to meet her, sharp gold eyes watching her the entire way.  “Hello!” She said brightly, realizing that his colors were mostly blue and white like Gérard’s, though after so many years that was likely sheer coincidence.  “My name is Twilight Sparkle.  Is there an archivist or historian in your settlement?”  She omitted the ‘Princess’ since it wasn’t an official visit and she didn’t want to make it so. He studied her a moment before replying.  She was used to sharp looks of varying sorts, given the rarefied atmosphere in Canterlot, but there was something very inequine about it that made her smile falter.  Then his beak clicked, softly.  “You’ll want Binder Heulwen,” he said, his rich, liquid accent falling strangely on her ears.  “The building with the compass.” “Thank you!”  She smiled at him and continued on down while he darted out over the forest on his own inscrutable errand.  Twilight descended to hover at the midpoint of the town, where something too small to be called a river plunged into a deep pool, and looked around for the compass. Mostly, she saw eyes.  They ranged from molten gold to pale amber, though she caught one flash of blood red before the head turned away.  Another talon-marked hippogryph flew out to accost her, politely.  “Are you looking for something?” “I was told to find Binder Heulwen,” she said, pronouncing the Alce name as carefully as she could.  “The person I talked to said to look for the building with the compass.” “Yes.”  His beak clicked and he flicked his wings.  “This way,” he told her, gliding downward, and she followed.  She studied the town and its inhabitants as they went, trying to absorb as many impressions as she could.  The buildings were all wood and glass, open and airy and reminiscent of certain neoclassical pony architecture.  Of course, ponies wouldn’t have omitted staircases, nor had quite so many balconies. What caught and held her attention though, once she noticed it, was the dearth of cutie mark variety.  There seemed to be no more than five marks shared between the dozens of hippogryphs she saw following her guide.  Talon, anvil, crossed wheat and tree, crossed saw and hammer, scroll.  She didn’t spot any others before they reached a building at the very bottom of the settlement. Unlike the others this definitely was built for ponies, though the upper levels blossomed out into the open balconies favored by the rest of the town.  And on the door there was a compass rose with a gryphon talon behind it, like a coat of arms.  Twilight landed in front of it, on stone-carved stairs leading away and down toward the coast.  She stepped forward to rap on the door, her guide already gone. The door opened and the scroll-marked hippogryph beyond blinked, her eyes widening before she bowed.  “Princess Twilight!  This is an unexpected honor.” “Oh, I’m not here officially,” she hastened to assure, presumably, Heulwen.  “I’m surprised though, nopony else recognized me.” “I suspect most of them did, but we are so far from Equestria.  Its concerns seem rather remote to most of us here.”  Heulwen’s eyes went distant for a moment, then she backed up, gesturing Twilight in.  “Ah, but where are my manners?  I am Binder Heulwen, and I bid you welcome to the Embassy.” The name made Twilight’s ears prick, and she stepped in curiously.  It looked old, it smelled old, it felt old.  Not the age that creaked and cracked and wore things down, but the venerable, comfortable maturity of a place that had been lived in.  The wood was worn but well-polished and shone darkly, the tiles in the floor clearly repaired many times over, giving them a kintsugi cast.  A pair of desks dominated the lower floor, just as aged as the rest of it but still in use, to judge by the papers and books.  “Thank you,” she said, breathing in the rich, dizzying scent of history.  “Though I suppose I should tell you why I’m here.” “It had crossed my mind to wonder what the brand new princess-goddess of Equestria was doing, unannounced, in Aelwyd.”  Heulwen’s eyes glinted briefly, her voice holding an edge that was more gryphon than pony as she regarded Twilight. “It’s nothing urgent,” she told Heulwen.  She didn’t say it wasn’t important, because it was, but something that had stayed buried for the span of a millennium would keep.  “I just recently came across a document in Canterlot’s dead archives.”  The box hadn’t even been marked.  “It was about Compass Rose and Gérard, but it...stopped rather abruptly.  I was hoping I could find out more here.” Heulwen was silent for a moment, then described a circle with her talon, taking in the room.  “This is a good start.  They lived and worked here from just a month or so after the end of the war to the end of their days.” “Oh.”  Twilight surveyed the room with new respect.  “So it really was an embassy, originally.” “And still is, really. Aelwyd does have relations with Eyrie and Equestria, however infrequent.”  Her beak clicked as she regarded the piles of papers on one of the desks, somewhat mournfully.  “Sometimes not so infrequent.  I’m behind on my work.” “I didn’t mean to interrupt…” Twilight began, but Heulwen waved it away. “The work will be here tomorrow. You are here now.  I am sure you want more than just to see the old house.” “Well, the document I had ended just when they were starting negotiations with Aida.  I was wondering if you had any records of what came after.” “Oh, I think I know what you’re talking about.  Stripehoof took down Rose’s story at some point before they moved into the Embassy.  We have a copy, but I always wondered what had happened to hers.  I know Rose asked her to bury it, at least for a while.” “Well, she certainly did.”  Not that Twilight blamed her.  It was hard to imagine now, but at the time hardly anyone would have understood the choices either Rose or Gérard made, and they both had family and friends to protect.  Not to mention making sure the story was preserved properly, and not altered by an overly-patriotic bureaucrat. “Most of their legacy is in Aelwydd and in us, but there are a few writings we have preserved across the years.”  She beckoned to Twilight and led the way deeper into the Embassy. “In you?  Are you a descendant then?” Twilight inquired as she followed Heulwen through the back of the office, past a kitchen and up a shallow flight of stairs to a raised sitting room.  The morning sun streamed in over more well-used furniture, looking sinfully comfortable in the bright shafts of light.  There was also a fireplace at the far end of the room, and over the mantel there hung a painting whose subjects she recognized instantly, despite having never seen them before. Rose and Gérard looked out at her from across the centuries.   “We all are,” Heulwen said from behind her.  “There are a few rare children born of pony and gryphon couples, yes, but they do not bear hippogriffs.  The children of Gérard and Rose always breed true.” She tore herself away from the paintings to look at Heulwen with a sudden, more scholarly interest.  “Really?  Why is that?” “Nobody knows.”  She clicked her beak thoughtfully.  “Perhaps it is because they were the first.  There is always something special the first time something is done.  Or it could be love.  It is a powerful thing, after all, but it seems arrogant to say that none since have loved as deeply as they did.  Or there are forces none of us know.” “It could be all of them at once,” Twilight said, turning to look again at the painting.  She knew very well how the world could work in mysterious ways, or at least obscure ones.  “Perhaps I’ll find out for you, eventually.” “Perhaps.  It may be there is a clue in their letters.”   Twilight reluctantly turned away to join Heulwen at a small glass case set against the wall.  There were only two objects inside.  A thin, leather-bound volume, and a bone box.  Her eyes stuck on the latter, and when Heulwen opened the case, she reached out with a hoof only to stop herself before touching it.  She decided she didn’t want to know if there was anything inside it. “These are their letters to their children.”  Heulwen took out the book and closed the case again, offering it to Twilight.  She took it carefully, suppressing the urge to wrinkle her muzzle at the leather.  All of her books were bound with canvas, of course, but that wasn’t an excuse to be unnecessarily squeamish. “Thank you for sharing this with me,” Twilight said, more formal than before.  “I didn’t even know Aelwydd existed before today, so I know that Equestria has overlooked you.  I would understand if you hadn’t felt like giving me the chance to read this, and I appreciate your generosity.” Heulwen went still, almost motionless for a moment, then inclined her head to Twilight.  “It is rare that any pony or gryphon shows real curiosity about us or our progenitors, so it is gratifying to see a princess of Equestria take a personal interest in people who are so dear to us.” “I think it’s time for their story to become known,” Twilight told her. “And yours.  We are cousin races, after all, and even if there are ponies left who would resent gryphons, we can’t allow them to stop us from being friends.” “We may be cousin races, but we are neither ponies nor gryphons,” Heulwen canted her head.  “Though I think we would welcome a closer relationship with Equestria, I do not think it is as simple as that.” “After reading their story, I understand that,” Twilight said with feeling.  “But I still think it’s worth pursuing.  And I may have an even better idea after reading these.”  She hefted the book. Heulwen nodded.  “If you need me, I shall be downstairs,” she said, and clicked her beak.  “Catching up on the Equestrian correspondence, just in case.” Twilight watched her go, then settled on one of the couches.  It was as comfortable as it looked, and she stretched for a moment before opening the cover. The contents within were in two different styles, which meant that, incredibly or even impossibly, they were the originals, somehow preserved through the ages despite the book being clearly well-read and well-loved.  And she didn’t even need to read a word to know whose writing was whose.  Rose wrote in neat, squared, and clear letters, whether Alce or Equish, as befit a mapmaker. Gérard’s writing, on the other hoof, flowed smoothly, even elegantly, across the page, as liquid as Alce itself. Though she couldn’t speak it, she could at least read Alce, courtesy of her binges through Canterlot’s vast libraries, so she settled down to see what Gérard and Rose had to say.  Most of the entries were mundane if heartfelt, but scattered throughout were hints at the life they led after the end of the war. My beloved sons and daughters, I can never express enough how much of a blessing you have been to me.  I had given up on the dream of children a long time before I even met your mother, and no matter how much I loved my Rose, she was not a gryphon.  We both knew all we would have was each other, but to us that was more than enough. But we were wrong, and wonderfully so.  You are something new to this world, and you should never forget that.  There will be those, both gryphon and pony, who will scorn you because you are both and neither, but their words are theirs alone and cannot touch the heart of what you are. I have come to know you as you have grown, and each of you is, by yourself, what Rose and I only are together.  The sharp yearning of the gryphon tempered by the centered confidence of the pony.  The seeking and the finding without ever being truly lost.  Even with this, I will not pretend the coming weeks and years and centuries will be easy, but know that I am and always will be proud of you. Your father,         Gérard, Clan Hippogriff For the first time she read Gérard’s words directly.  The emotion in them was obvious, but she felt that she missed out on the subtleties of his Alce, which wasn’t quite the same dialect that the gryphon ambassadors spoke these days.  It had a richer, more formal cadence, as befit its author, and reminded Twilight of Luna’s voice when she slipped into memory.  Rose, on the other hoof, was somewhat more solid, if no less heartfelt. My dearest children, I think any miracle comes with a price, and you came with one I do not know how any of us will pay.  Shortly after I found I was with child for the first time, Aquila came to meet with us.  That was disturbing enough, but his news was worse.  He was dying.  What your father and I were doing, through Aida and Kree and Ganon, through letters and stories, was changing gryphons.  Perhaps not all that much, in the end, but enough, and he could no longer properly be their judge. And when you kill someone, there is a debt to pay. But how does one repay the death of a god?  I fear it is an obligation I will have to pass to you, but I trust you will not take it as a burden.  It is something to be strived against and for, because it isn’t something that can be measured against goods or labor.  It can only be paid by being extraordinary. In this I feel you are in good stead, with the strength of gryphons and the harmony of ponies behind you.  So long as you keep your honor and integrity, I trust you will always find your way. All my love, Compass Rose Twilight paused and took a breath.  After finding the hole in the world where Aquila had been, she had expected to find in his death some world-shaking catastrophe, something great and terrible.  But here it was, buried in a few words in an obscure place, and it was nothing less or more than change.         She had no idea how much it weighed on Rose and Gérard, and their children.  It wasn’t mentioned again, and while Twilight understood the idea of indebtedness, it wasn’t writ into her bones like it was for gryphons.  That small, sideways discovery made her feel more like Rose, glimpsing something entirely alien from the corner of her eye, able to grasp the shape but not the details.         My beloved sons and daughters,         We all know the world is a harsh place, and this past spring has only driven that point home with a vengeance.  But we are all alive and whole.  I beg you not to blame the gryphons for it, or the ponies, because it is simply their natures to act as they do.  We are a bridge between, no matter how difficult that may be at times, and consider that we are all safe in no small part thanks to Kree and Stripehoof - gryphon and pony.         Ponies fear that which disturbs their harmony, and gryphons fear that which does not show its strength.  You can do both, or neither.  It may be tempting, especially after all that has happened, to give no offense to either, but someone must lead.  I know what it is to be lost, and both ponies and gryphons must have someone to follow if they are to ever find a way between.         Your father,         Gérard, Clan Hippogriff         Despite her near-total knowledge of Canterlot’s archives, she couldn’t find any reference to the incident Gérard alluded to.  Given how deeply buried the pair had been in the first place, that was hardly surprising, but it still piqued her curiosity, especially that Kree had protected them.  Perhaps she could press Heulwen for more, sometime later.         The last entry in the small bound volume seemed ever so slightly more worn than the others, the ancient paper warm under the light of the sun.         My dearest children,         Now that you have children of your own, I imagine you are expecting me to give you some motherly (or grandmotherly) advice whether you want it or not.   But really, I don’t know how much I can tell you that you don’t already know.  In some ways children are alike all over, and when you were small you were as much a terror as any pegasus foal or gryphon fledgeling.  But in other ways they are profoundly different, and where a pony child would need gentle encouragement, a gryphon child needs a challenge.  But you are not raising ponies or gryphons and, I expect now, none of my children ever will be.         I know Gérard and I have made mistakes, fallen short at times, in raising you. All parents do.  But few parents are in the position of raising children not only of another race entirely, but also of a race that has never existed before.  All I ask is that you learn from those mistakes, and grasp the opportunity to shape the future of an entire species.  The lessons you pass on will carry throughout generations.         But I’m not worried.  Every parent thinks well of their children, but I feel we have been blessed, not only with you but with the others you have grown up with, and you have become all that any parent could ask for.  We won’t be with you forever, but so long as you trust in yourself, you should have have no fears for the future. All my love, Compass Rose Slowly, gently, Twilight closed the book.  She hadn’t really found much of the story she was looking for, just fragments and outlines, the remnants of a history long past.  But it was enough.  It had defined a door for her to walk through, and the other side held hippogriffs and perhaps even gryphons.  Even with the changelings, even with all her other duties, it was one she couldn’t resist stepping through. As soon as she told Luna that Rose and Gérard’s story had a happy ending.