//------------------------------// // Hearth's Warming Part 2 // Story: Marjoram // by Nekiyha //------------------------------// Hearth’s Warming Prt 2: Marjoram woke up slowly, feeling warm and content. He opened his eyes blearily, looking around the suspiciously empty study. Shores had left, and Marjoram couldn’t hear anypony else moving around. Blinking in the sunlight streaming from the window, Marjoram took in the room was still cluttered with beds, presents, and discarded blankets. Did they go to breakfast? Marjoram wondered to himself, trying to get his hooves under him enough so he could stand. Standing took more effort than he was willing to admit to, but his body seemed to obey his commands. Things were sluggish, his head felt like it wasn’t attached to his body. Marjoram wasn’t hungry, so he bypassed the kitchen, choosing instead to go to the graveyard. Fresh snow covered the trails, and Marjoram was pleased to note that he was the first pony to be breaking the undisturbed snow. This would mean he would be alone; which was good. He really wanted to talk with Carnation, and he couldn’t do that without looking like he had finally lost his sanity to whomever else was there. The cold air stung his throat and lungs, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sting. It gave Marjoram’s cloudy head something to focus on beyond his bleary vision and bad balance. Marjoram made his way to the familiar gravestone, and sat down. He didn’t trust his legs to keep him standing for any length of time, not with how shaky he felt. Marjoram stared at the cold block of marble, and his chest constricted. Not with coughing, or the horrible cobweb like feeling, but with grief. He didn’t want to be talking to a gravestone, unsure whether or not Carnation was even able to hear him in the place that lay beyond death. He wanted to be talking to his sister, his real life sister. He wanted to be able to hear her laugh, and watch her defend Equestria, and so many other things that he’d never get to do again, or never got to experience in the first place. Very quietly, Marjoram began to explain what had been going on in his life, trying to hold back tears. He explained what had happened with his magic, how terrified he was with the prospect of learning the illegal spells. Finally, he told of the dreams he’d been having; of twisted spires, haunted ponies, and feeling a twisted sense of pride at the suffering of others. When Marjoram finished explaining the majority of his problems, he sighed, “I don’t know if I can tell this to Twilight, sis. I’m just worried that she’ll try to do everything that she can because of how she is. I just want us to be able to move forward. Maybe the dreams were just because of the dark magic, maybe now they’ll go away. I hope they do.” There was another pause. Marjoram stared at the simple stone, “I don’t know why I keep coming out here,” he admitted, “I don’t know if you can hear me, I don’t even know if I believe in the Creators, or Faust, or anything else. I don’t know if there’s an afterlife.” Tears, hot and unwanted, sprung up in the corners of Marjoram’s eyes. He blinked them back, and swallowed the hard lump in his throat, “I just want you to not be dead,” the plea came from a broken voice, and Marjoram knew his wish, however sincere, wouldn’t come true. Marjoram sat in silence for another minute, trying to get himself back under control, “I don’t think I’m going to stop coming out to talk to you. I know that if you were alive, that you’d want to listen to me. So, I’m not going to stop. It’s nice if I’m down here alone for me to just get everything out without worrying about anypony hearing. Anyway, it’s less than a day until Hearth’s Warming Eve,  and just two days until Hearth’s Warming itself. Canterlot is beautiful, as always. Lights are everywhere, and the decorations are already up. Everypony is very excited and happy. Spike is really excited, and Twilight is starting to get excited too. Her friends are leaving today, before noon I think. Twilight will be sad to see them go, but I think it will be good to spend some time with her parents, the Princesses, Spike, and I. I don’t know if Shining is going to make it this year or not, last I’d heard he was with his fiancee, somewhere near the Badlands? Maybe? I’ll have to ask Twilight’s parents; they’ll know.” Marjoram looked up, and saw that the otherwise cloudless sky was disturbed by one medium-sized cloud, hovering dangerously close to the spires of the castle. Marjoram shook his head, “I’ll have to have a word with the weather ponies, it’s supposed to be clear today.” Marjoram sighed, leveraging himself to his hooves, “As much as I’d like to stay, I have everypony’s presents to finish. I’ll be back on Hearth’s Warming day, with Shores as usual.” (LINE BREAK) Rainbow climbed onto the Friendship Express, her eyes downcast and feeling incredibly guilty. She sat down beside the window, barely noticing Applejack sitting down beside her. Through the window, Rainbow saw Spike and Twilight waving, and Marjoram standing next to them, looking sullen. The train began to move away from the Canterlot Station, and Rainbow thought back to what she’d witnessed only forty-five minutes before. She had seen Marjoram exiting the castle while putting her luggage with everypony else’s, and thought it was odd for the stallion to be leaving on his own so early. Rainbow had followed Marjoram out while flying, so not to leave hoofprints in the freshly fallen snow. She had flown behind spires, towers, and the parapets of the castle. She found remains of clouds, and gathered them together to form a cloud just big enough for her to hide on top of. She floated high enough so that nopony could see her from the ground, but low enough so that she could still hear Marjoram. At first, she’d thought that he’d just been passing through the graveyard, not going to stay. By that time, Rainbow couldn’t move without drawing suspicion to herself, so she stayed. Rainbow heard everything; Marjoram’s fears, the nightmares, his uncertainty in going to Twilight with his fears, his perspective on recent events, everything. She’d heard his comment about contacting weather ponies, and once he began to move away from the graveyard, Rainbow had stealthily flown back to the castle, and hoped Marjoram didn’t see her leaving. She’d already damaged any potential relationship that could be built between them, and she didn’t want to make it any worse. Now, she was left feeling like she was carrying a heavy burden, a secret, that she would never be able to share. Rainbow didn’t like that feeling, but planned on never bringing up her rash action to anypony. Rainbow was drawn out of her thoughts by the excited babble of Pinkie, talking rapidly about what she would do when she got home. Rainbow flung herself into the conversation, hoping that she could distract herself from her guilty conscious. (LINE BREAK) Marjoram spent the majority of the two days before Hearth’s Warming Day painting. It took a lot of work, a lot of frustration, and it caused him to miss out on the Hearth’s Warming Eve play, and most of the Hearth’s Warming Eve feast, but it was worth it. It didn’t matter that there were paint stains in his room that would likely never come out, or that he would likely never regain part of his sanity. Everything was done, and dry, and even though Marjoram wasn’t happy with everything, it was done. He’d spent the rest of Hearth’s Warming Eve with his family, the ponies he considered to be family anyway. He’d eaten enough to make Shores stop nagging him for four minutes, and had relaxed enough to forget the ring that was strung onto the chain around his neck. After dinner, the group had retired to Celestia’s study. It had been returned to its former neatness, a fire spilling warmth and light into the room from the far wall. It was cozy, warm, and familiar, made even more so with the presence of his family. He’d brought the presents up when he’d finished them, knowing that Spike would like to see them before they were opened in the morning. Marjoram watched as Spike opened the one present he was allowed to open on Hearth’s Warming Eve. It was nothing big, but it sated some of Spike’s curiosity and made him even more excited for Hearth’s Warming day. After Spike opened his present, which was a box of chocolates, Twilight set up the movie projector, and put in her favourite film: A Hearth’s Warming Tale. It was based off of a classic novel by the same name, and Marjoram had been forced to sit through it every year after Twilight had decided she’d prefer to spend the holidays at the castle. Marjoram had learned to love the film, even though it had been made with the intention of having children see it. Thus, songs, dance numbers, and puppets had been included into the story, as well as a clever narrator who helped explain things. Marjoram wouldn’t admit it to anypony, but he could sing the songs word for word, practically on command. Most of the script had been memorized too, but it didn’t matter. Watching the film was a tradition, accompanied by snacks, warm hot chocolate, singing, and laughter. Spike fell asleep during the credits, and Marjoram had to admit that it had been a struggle not to join the young dragon in the realm of dreams. Marjoram made it back to his room, and fell into a peaceful sleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. He was walking the winding, uphill path to Canterlot. Saddlebags floated near his head, held aloft by his magic. The stallion’s features were hidden by a thick cloak, discouraging greetings and conversations. He moved slowly, but with purpose toward the palace. Soon enough, he disappeared into the palace. In a few hours, the ponies that lived in Canterlot would wish they had stopped him from entering at all. Unknown to everyone, he was coming back to where he’d grown up; and he was going to kill Princess Celestia on the eve of the Summer Sun Celebration. He would deal her a fatal blow, and using unknown magic, banish her alongside the Mare in the Moon. The battle between Celestia and Marjoram lasted less than twenty minutes. The outcome of the battle would change Equestria’s future drastically. Marjoram was the only one to know exactly how, years later. “Marjoram!” Marjoram jolted into wakefulness, air caught in in his throat. He coughed harshly, head spinning from the sudden change in position, lungs spasming painfully. Through tired, bleary eyes, Marjoram saw Spike’s concerned face staring up at him from the floor. Once Marjoram had caught his breath, he looked down at Spike, “Yes?” “It’s Hearth’s Warming!” Spike said excitedly, clambering onto Marjoram’s bed, “Twilight sent me to get you, since we can’t start without you!” Marjoram shook his head, and climbed out of bed, wrapping himself in his blanket once he was steady, “Celestia’s study?” Spike nodded eagerly, slipping his slippers back on, and trotted out of the room. Marjoram followed, noting that the sunlight filtering through the many stained glass windows was early morning. Marjoram tried to shake the heavy blanket of sleep from his mind, haunted by the sudden knowledge that he had somehow, in some other dimension, killed Celestia. The mental image alone was enough to strike a deep-seated dread in his chest, much viewing it. For once, Marjoram was happy that he hadn’t seen what this ‘other him’ had done. Marjoram figured some things were better left in the dark. The first thought Marjoram had when he entered Celestia’s study was: oh thank the Creators; coffee. Shores had already made a pot of coffee, and had a mug held out to Marjoram before he could mutter a greeting. Sipping at the rich brew, still trying to clear the sleep from his eyes, Marjoram cast a cursory look at the room, and nearly spit out a mouthful of coffee. It looks like Hearth’s Warming threw up in here. Garish decorations hung from the ceiling and walls. Trains of popcorn, cherries, and homemade decorations wound themselves up bookcases, furniture legs, and around the mantle of the fireplace. Bright colours shone through the stained glass window, making the decorations shine brightly in the multi-hued light. It made Marjoram’s still asleep brain cry out in pain, sending blurry spots across his vision as he tried to take in the decorations and the pile of presents in the corner. Twilight was smiling brightly, still dressed in her pyjamas, as was everypony else Marjoram realized belatedly. This was odd, since Twilight was only a morning pony when she had gotten enough sleep and, with the excitement of the biggest holiday on the calendar, that was unlikely. Celestia looked tired, but that wasn’t very surprising; she’d gone to bed as late as everypony else, and she’d been awake for at least three hours already. Luna, on the other hoof, looked well-rested and cautiously optimistic for the day ahead. Shores sidled up to Marjoram, a warm smile on her face, “How are you this fine morning?” Marjoram grunted into his coffee cup, taking another gulp of the hot liquid. Shores nodded, “Not awake yet, huh? Want some breakfast with your coffee?” “Maybe in a few minutes,” Marjoram grumbled, “Not awake yet.” Shores chuckled, watching Spike bounce excitedly on his toes as he waited for Twilight and Princess Celestia to finish an obviously serious conversation. Twilight looked at Spike, and giggled. “Yes, Spike. If everypony’s ready, we can open presents.” Spike looked eagerly to everypony else, his big green eyes clearly making his request clear: please be ready. Marjoram smiled, “I’m good to go. Just keep the coffee coming.” “Not a problem,” Shores replied, “Celestia here has already drunk an entire pot.” Celestia glared at Shores, though the slight smile made it clear she wasn’t that angry, “You had to get your caffeine addiction from somewhere,” Twilight said dryly. Everypony sat down, except for Spike, who was sitting on the flagstones in front of Celestia’s fireplace. “Alright, Spike. Find a present for everypony, then we’ll open them. We’ll keep going until we finish!” Spike nodded, and scampered to the pile of presents. Carefully, he picked out presents for everypony, finally picking out a present for himself. Marjoram was happy to note that the present Spike had picked was the one Marjoram had made himself. Looking at his own present, Marjoram was surprised to see that it was from Princess Luna. Opening it carefully, Marjoram found an old, leather-bound book. It’s cover was gilded with gold and silver, depicting a tall tower that he didn’t recognize. Embossed on the spine of the book, was the title, “The Heartspire”*. Spike was staring at his present, admiring the painting of a cave full of gems, “This is awesome! Thank you so much!” “You’re welcome,” Marjoram replied, idly flicking through the pages of the book. Parts of it were illustrated, and the pages were old and yellowed. It was beautiful, “Thank you, Princess Luna.” “We...I...You’re welcome,” Luna sputtered, blushing. More ‘thank you’s were exchanged, and the process happened all over again. In all, Marjoram had received an ecosphere from Celestia, a zircon gemstone from Spike, an expensive book of spells from Twilight, and a hoofwritten book of recipes from Shores. Marjoram had painted Twilight a painting of Canterlot in the light of dawn; Celestia a painting of the Ponyville fountain and Town Square, busy in its midday glory; Luna a painting of the night sky overlooking the Canterlot mountains, just as the sun sank over the peaks; and Shores a painting of herself, smiling at the piece of dough she was working with her hooves. “This is beautiful!” Shores proclaimed, smiling, eyes lost in the art. “We like it! Can we commission another!?” Luna asked, her turquoise eyes filled with happy tears. “This is quite a feat,” Celestia’s wise eyes stared down at the painting, holding it in front of her with her magic. “I didn’t know you’d gotten this good!” Twilight exclaimed, “Thank you so much!” Marjoram blushed, looking down at his own pile of presents, “It wasn’t a problem, really. It was fun, and I-” Shores slung a leg around Marjoram’s neck, “You big softie! I knew you love us!” Marjoram smiled softly, basking in the love of his family, banishing the cold fear of his dreams.