4. The Twin Goddesses: Part 1. After All These Years
4. The Twin Goddesses: Part 1. After All These Years
It was exciting, and also a bit eerie, to be traveling this deep into Canterlot Castle. Over the centuries Celestia had ordered continuous maintenance and additions to the grand fortress, and as a consequence the older, lower chambers had become steadily underused. They were still cleaned and repaired from time to time, but few besides the staff ever had reason to venture down to those hidden bowels.
A magnificent atrium had been constructed along the outer edge, furnished with luxurious apartments to house honored guests of the Crown. Top-notch room service and breathtaking vistas always impressed, and emissaries left Equestria with a grand sense of awe.
But those functions were once served by a collection of rooms further below. Sitting within the “neck” of the Castle, beneath the battlements and courtyards, on the foundations jutting from the mountainside, were the old apartments. To Twilight it was clear this area was largely ignored: most of the Castle had electric lights quaintly shaped like elegant torches to light the halls at night; the lower corridors had crude cage lights and exposed wiring.
The corridors were narrow and gloomy, somewhat damp, and frankly unsettling. From deep down here, nopony could hear another scream. A dark thought entered Twilight’s mind: in days of old did the Princess conduct tortures down here? …Did she still?
The purple winged unicorn waved a hoof, knowing better after a moment to ponder. She’d been following Celestia down the steps and hallways not to be subjected to hot irons or the rack, but instead because the Solar Princess had something very special she wanted to show her protégé.
“Are we there?” Twilight asked, her voice laced with an annoying bite.
“We’ll be there when we get there,” Celestia responded in a mocking tone, flashing a smile; it was all good fun. A little further down the corridor and the tall alicorn stopped, “Here we go.”
Two wooden doors stood, closed and latched. Celestia magically opened the two and stepped aside to allow Twilight within the newly-discovered room. The smaller mare crept inside, taking in the walls adorned with statues and ancient frescoes. They mainly depicted Alicorns and other creatures of myth and legend. A few pews sat in two columns, one each on either side of the pathway. At the far end of the room was a gilded altar, decorated with rich marble carvings.
Spiced candles were lit by Celestia’s magic, and she levitated a bundle of incense from a nearby table and placed them in a stand. Flicking them to life, a stream of smoke crept high into the air.
Twilight noticed the small size of the room; it couldn’t be able to comfortably hold more than ten ponies. Yet, the height of the chamber was impressive, able to house a pony as giant as Celestia, horn and all.
The Princess in question was removing her regalia while Twilight studied the art within. The alicorn dipped her hooves in a font of water and bowed her head before the altar. Upon closer inspection, Twilight noticed the very same symbol carved into the altar as the one that hung around Celestia’s neck.
Faith was a funny thing in modern Equestria, and the Goddesses of the Sun and Moon didn’t demand any sort of worship or sacrifices—just taxes. Ancient idols of Gods and their temples were now heritage sights; relics of Equestria’s history instead of its living culture. Twilight didn’t realize at first but this room was a temple of some sort.
And Celestia was performing her own service; how much would that disturb the preconceptions of millions if it became widely known?
When Celestia was finished muttering something to herself, she stood back up and gathered her regalia in a magical embrace. The solar diarch noticed Twilight’s concentrated face and smiled.
“This is my private Chapel. I like to come down here when I feel stressed or lost or…just eager for a moment to myself. I try to come once a day, but that doesn’t always work out,” she said, studying the room just as Twilight was.
The purple mare approached the altar and raised a hoof to touch the sculptures, but Celestia gently pushed her student’s foreleg down. Twilight gave her mentor another confused look. “Legend says that the first marble block cut from the quarry for the castle was made into this altar, and this chapel was the first part carved into the mountain,” Celestia shared, knowing Twilight could always appreciate some history.
“That would put it…what? A few thousand years?” the younger mare asked.
“Four thousand, roughly.”
“Ah. Seems like only yesterday, doesn’t it?” Twilight deadpanned.
Celestia just gave a sardonic smirk, “I'm not that old.” The two shared a giggle and turned back towards the doors. Shutting them, Celestia latched them up and started down further into the hallway. “There’s still one more thing I’d like to show you,” she said, leading the way.
A few doors down Celestia opened one to reveal another room, a suite this time. Inside was a small living room, a fireplace and couch, along with some tables, a cabinet, stove, and sink. Off to the left was another door, presumably leading to the bedroom. Celestia flicked a light switch and stepped over to the fireplace. Igniting the logs sitting there, the Princess then used a simple cavitation spell to get the fire going. Satisfied with her work, she plopped down on the couch and set her levitated regalia onto a nearby side table, neatly arranging them.
“Take a look out the window,” Celestia said, retrieving two teacups and a kettle from the cabinet. Filling the kettle with water, she placed it on the stove. Not wanting to wait for the water to boil, she flashed her horn and immediately the kettle began to whistle. Pouring two cups, she retrieved a couple teabags and steeped them in the water.
Twilight meanwhile walked to the window and unlatched the glass panes. Opening them, she stood motionless for a time admiring the sight. Out this window, beyond the lights of the city at nighttime, Twilight could gaze down at the valley below the mountain. Little bright dots shined within the homes lining the riverside, and the pale moonlight reflected on the rippling water’s surface. It was simply beautiful, and when Twilight had her fill, she closed the window and turned back to Celestia, who gave her one of the teacups.
“This is my old room. When I first served the Prince of Canterlot, this was where I stayed. I spent many nights just staring out that window; very…meditative,” Celestia said, sipping from her cup. Immediately she set it down and put two scoops of sugar in.
Twilight did the same, “So you’ve kept this room available ever since?”
Celestia nodded, “Yes, it’s part of my retreat. When I’m not able to go to my country estate and relax, I can come here. This area of the castle is like my private residence.”
“The entire castle is your private residence,” Twilight quipped.
“Mmm…not quite. The castle technically belongs to the State. I use to receive a fifth of all crown finances for my personal use a long time ago,” Celestia began, gesturing her hoof into the air, “But new ideas about the purpose and practice of government convinced a faction in Parliament to requisition that. In exchange I was given a permanent lease on my tower apartment and the rooms down here to do whatever I want with.”
“Losing that much revenue doesn’t seem like a fair trade for a few sections of the Castle,” Twilight muttered with a raised eyebrow, stirring her tea before taking a drink.
“Perhaps not, but it was a good public relations move. Nopony wants to see their taxes go to maintaining my lavish lifestyle; I know I wouldn’t,” the white Princess winked, “And besides, I haven’t hurt for money in a thousand years.”
“Oh no?” Twilight’s response was calmed and subdued, almost incredulous.
“I’ve made a number of…wise investments. And I always pick up the check,” Celestia smirked.
“Like you did last night?” Twilight narrowed her eyes and stared down the alicorn, still drinking her tea.
“You found out about that?” Celestia’s ears dropped, wincing in embarrassment.
“Mhm…”
The alabaster mare started rubbing the back of her head, “I suppose wherever the Princess goes isn’t private for long… I was…wistful after telling you the story last night. I thought it’d be nice to spend some time with my sister.”
Twilight continued to narrow her eyes, and then a few moments later grinned a devious toothy smile. “I was only having fun. I completely understand; I don’t have a sister, but Cadance is the next best pony.”
A look of confusion and shock captured Celestia’s face before she began laughing, “That was alright, but you still have a lot to learn about messing with ponies.” The two chuckled together, and after a moment of silence, Celestia unfurled her great wings and smiled warmly down at her student, “I’m pleased to see you’re learning a very important lesson about being a leader: we may be paragons that others look up to, but ultimately we are still only ponies, and ponies need a little relaxation from time to time.”
Then the Solar Princess cleared her throat, “Which brings me to our purpose here.” Twilight set down her cup and levitated out her book and writing utensils. Seeing she had flipped to the appropriate page, Celestia continued, “The next portion of our story concerns two ponies, very much like those living in the city. They were guilty of the same vices and insecurities as millions of others, perfectly flawed as mortal creatures are.”
Celestia changed her voice from light and friendly to something more theatrical. Now she spoke with a proud bravado, “But history has remembered the two sisters as otherworldly saviors, guardians of the forces of nature and eternal exemplars of power, virtue and might. Through the ages the tale of their rise to power has been transformed into a grand myth of ancient titans clashing for dominance, until the Sun and Moon brought light through the shroud of darkness and chaos.”
Twilight silently giggled to herself and shook her head as she wrote, but said nothing; let the Princess have her fun.
“For this is the tale…of the Twin Goddesses!”
*――――――――――S――――――――――*
Nikóleva spent a long while embracing her sister, and when they finally broke off, the sky had gotten dark. The two enjoyed a pleasant look at a silver moonrise before Taberanyn spoke to Nikóleva for the first time in thirty years.
“Dinner is almost ready; we don’t want it to get cold,” her voice was still as kind and sweet as Nikóleva remembered, and not a hint of malice filled it. And she too had that northern quality to her speech.
The elder mare blinked a couple times and smiled, feeling a rumbling in her belly. She allowed her sister to lead her into the house. At the front door the white alicorn noticed on either side of the entranceway were a couple baskets of soil, wilted remains of flowers resting atop the dirt.
“Henarion’s wife enjoys flowers,” Taby said, holding the door open, “In the spring she likes to cut bouquets; she says their fragrance promotes ‘good health’.”
Nikóleva stepped through the threshold, “I imagine Henarion scoffs and grumbles at that,”
Taberanyn followed in, shutting the door, “Not as much as you might think.”
The white pony giggled softly to herself, and paused to take in the home. Cozily lit by a number of candles and the roaring fire, the cottage’s interior was filled with quaint furniture; some made of oak, others walnut and chestnut. Doubtless Henarion and her own sister had been busy building all this, and done not too shabby a job. Somepony had even knitted little drapes for the tables.
Taberanyn adjourned to the next room from which a pleasant humming had been sounding. Henarion was in front of the fire, speaking with his son, who looked at his father with awestruck eyes. The old stallion noticed his guest, and invited her to sit on one of the couches.
Ungirting her sword and resting it against the wall, Nikóleva plopped down with an exhaustive promptness. It was so nice to sit on a piece of furniture actually designed for somepony of her size. Too many times hosts had invited her into their homes, and not to be ungrateful for their hospitality, but truthfully the houses were often too low and the seats to small.
But Henarion was obviously an alicorn, and his home had been built with that in mind. Her bones and muscles were dense, and there were a couple times she actually broke something she intended to sit on.
Perhaps she should stop just dropping onto them?
Nikóleva rolled her eyes and simply appreciated the sturdiness of her current seat. Eldowas, the excitable little foal, immediately hopped next to her and looked up, that curious glint in his eye.
“Is she the pony, Papa? Is she the one you told me about?” Henarion nodded, staring into the fire. Eldowas turned back to his father and inspected his face, “So she’s the one who gave you that?” he asked as he pointed to his father’s missing eye.
Again he nodded, but this time he faced Nikóleva and gave her a cold glower. The mare shrunk sheepishly in her place. Henarion then craned down to his son, “You should have seen it the first couple weeks; had to get your aunt to help me drain the pus.” His gaze went back to Nikóleva, “That’s why you wear your mane like that, isn’t it?”
“Rhódin,” the mare replied, unable to meet Henarion’s good eye.
The gruff alicorn then grinned, “She didn’t give it to me; we were in a fight together a long time ago. Ain’t matter much no more; I think she’s made up for it now.”
Henarion summoned some magic to untie the eyepatch and placed it on a table. After cracking his neck, the stallion’s ears perked up at a wonderfully melodious voice coming from the other room. It wasn’t Taberanyn’s though.
“Dinner is ready; everypony come to the table!” it was clearly a mare; quite motherly too.
The three ponies by the fireplace obliged, and each found a chair at the large dining table between the couches and kitchen. A glass vase sat in the center, and Nikóleva surmised that when in bloom, flowers would probably be sitting in it. For right now, though, it was empty.
Taberanyn came out first, levitating a couple plates of vegetables and potatoes. She set them down on the table and took a seat next to her sister. Eldowas was eagerly shaking in his chair, licking his lips, “Hurry up, Mama!”
“Eldowas,” Henarion ordered, his voice once again familiarly stern, “Be patient. You’re mother has been working hard on dinner; you can wait a moment more.”
The colt stilled himself, “Yes, Papa.”
That lovely voice came out again, “Coming, Sweetling!”
Nikóleva heard hoofsteps, and found herself with a growing sense of satisfaction. Soon she’d get the chance to meet Henarion’s wife, the mare who decided she wanted to put up with his bitter attitude for the rest of her life. What poor alicorn—
Nikóleva made no attempt to hide her shock and confusion. A pale pink pegasus emerged from the kitchen threshold. Her mane was light shade of purple, and she was pretty—too pretty for a dirty ancient creature like Henarion. Upon her flank was one of those marks Tulicëai possessed; an image of a small cluster of flowers, naturally.
She had a bowl of oats balanced on her back, and as she approached the seat next to her husband, she unfurled a wing and slid the bowl onto the table. It was an elegant motion, one Nikóleva was sure ponies without magic practiced quite a bit.
Henarion and his wife and son joined hooves, Taberanyn following. Nikóleva was invited by her sister to join. Taking the gesture, Nikóleva sat patiently as Henarion began to speak, “Great Lórian almighty, we thank you for this meal your good Earth has given us. And thank you eternally for bringing Nikóleva back to us.”
The white alicorn smiled widely and wiped her eye. The ponies around the table started fetching their desired food, Nikóleva waiting until everypony had their first helping. Henarion took one bite of a collage of green vegetables and smacked his lips.
“Mmm Primrose, you’ve outdone yourself with this one, Dear.”
The pegasus mare just blushed, and continued eating. After a few swallows, she looked up at Nikóleva, “Is she Taby’s sister? The pony we’ve heard stories about?”
“Ay, she’s the ‘Wintermail’,” Henarion said, his tone a little mocking.
Nikóleva stopped eating for a moment, “You’ve heard about me—Wintermail?”
“Oh yes!” Primrose said, her smile beaming, “Ponies all across Equestria have in some way or another. And I would have never guessed it’d be Taby’s own sister!” The pegasus flared out her wings in excitement; well it was clear where Eldowas got his energy.
“I’m flattered,” Nikóleva responded, shrinking a bit, “But I’m not involved in wandering anymore.”
“And what do you do?” this time it was Taberanyn’s turn to speak.
Nikóleva swallowed and cleared her throat. “I am a Knight pledged in service to the Prince of Canterlot. Dame Wintermail, Knight Commander in the Canterlot Guard,” she announced, knowing a mare of her station ought to proudly declare her loyalties and duties.
“You’re a knight?” Primrose said, her face once again exuberant.
“Like in the stories?” Eldowas chimed in, fore-hooves on the table, trying to stretch himself towards Nikóleva, “Do you save damsels in distress and slay dragons?”
Seeing a youth so full of life and so excited about all the wonders of the world…it reawakened something inside the tall white pony. To think after all the horrors she’s been witness to, a pony could still not fear the unknown, and crave to discover all the miracles of Lórian’s own world—Nikóleva fell into a fit of giggles, Eldowas and the others mimicking the infectious behavior.
She had in fact done those things, and so much more, just not as a knight. “Something along those lines,” Nikóleva finally answered, her laughter subsiding as she returned to her meal.
Henarion spoke to his wife, “She’s goings to get me an audience with the Prince. Maybe now we can get rid of those damned dogs”
Primrose’s countenance immediately grew cold, “Language, Henarion.”
The oldest pony in the room almost choked on his food, and dropped his ears, “Yes ma’am.” His good eye shifted to Eldowas, “tamh-Mherdilion árac tenë máhoniln der gasubemë tuln sima.(Don’t let your mother hear you talking like that.)”
“Vaur, Liaf(Yes, Father.)”
Nikóleva very much admired that the old Alicorn tongue was being passed down to a younger member. Primrose however didn’t seem to enjoy not being able to understand.
“Cadapilímera canda bhinala taë-hónacilím sima,(You might be getting into more trouble by doing that,)” Taberanyn joined in, wearing a smug little grin for her “Uncle”.
“Eldowas barcetiltinoc ydoral venë,(Eldowas should be shown his heritage,)” Nikóleva added, stirring a couple pieces of her steamed broccoli.
“I agree, but there a time and place,” Henarion admitted, and placed a hoof on his wife’s. The two shared a loving gaze and she went back to her cheerful demeanor.
A few moments of quiet passed before Nikóleva broke it, “I never imagined Henarion to be one for marriage and a family; he’s always struck me as too sour.” Taberanyn cracked up to the point where she had to cover her mouth; Henarion just rolled his eye.
“We left the north when the dogs became too aggressive. Your sister and I did what alicorns do best; wander. Did that for quite a while, helped out little towns here and there. One day we save a village from some bandits, and a filly comes out and asks if she can tag along for a ways.”
The orange stallion paused, taking a few more bites, “I tell her to stay put; it’s too dangerous out in the wilds. Then your sister tells me to let her join us; says it’ll nice to have somepony near her age to talk to for once. I wasn’t good enough.” He then smiled, “I make sure to thank Taberanyn for that every day.” The dark blue mare blushed and shyly went back to her food.
Primrose then picked up the story, “We journeyed around a few years, and by the end of it Henarion and I were married. We homesteaded some acres of empty land in the Princedom and built a house. Three years ago Eldowas was born, and we couldn't be happier—Diamond Dogs besides.”
Nikóleva simply studied the two ponies. Henarion and Primrose were an odd match, but she’s been around long enough to know that their love was genuine. He’d endured a harsh existence, and had to take care of one ungrateful filly; he deserved at least something in life.
But then the alabaster alicorn thought a bit longer, and she remembered Evergreen: her first love. There were other…dalliances in her days of adventuring, but there had only been one Evergreen. He was kind, generous, and always eager to help. She recalled that day out in the snow when he invited her into his home, and a year later when they’d shared a kiss.
She remembered too, not so long ago, seeing him old and withered. Dying before her very eyes, Evergreen’s state was painful reminder of what she was, and what it meant.
Nikóleva had read books about her race, and knew alicorns could expect to live between three and four-hundred years. If her arithmetic was correct—and the Librarian’s constant canings made sure of that—Henarion was around one-hundred and ninety. Primrose was young, and still full of vitality, but even the healthiest and most vibrant Tulicëai expired in less than a century.
Everypony saw Nikóleva’s smile fade, an expression of uncertainty and frustration setting in. She wondered if Henarion understood all this. Surely he must have…
“Nikól, how did you manage a place in the Guard?” Taberanyn asked, poking her sister with a hoof.
“Hmm?” the white pony wracked her mind to figure out what was just said. Maybe Delbedasir was on to something when he said she needed to learn to focus better… “Oh yes! Actually…this is related to something I’d like to ask you, Henarion, if you would be so kind.”
The stallion raised his eyebrow and sipped from his cup of water.
“I have learned that I am the Exilarch of the Alicorns,” Nikóleva announced, causing Henarion to slam down his cup and burst into a fit of coughing. His wife patted him on the back a couple times before he calmed down. Nikóleva waited for him to stop being in such a state of distress, “A stallion—an alicorn—in service of Canterlot told me. He said our father traveled there before, and that he wed our parents.”
Henarion furrowed his brow and searched his memories for the stallion in question. His eye widened with the realization, “Beige pony, big long beard; seemed impatient like he always had someplace more important to be.”
Nikóleva smirked, “That’s him. He’s my teacher, and he taught me to read. Showed me a book written by Solárindil. I learned about us, the alicorns.”
“’Solárindil’, like our family name?” Taberanyn inquired, scrunching her face into a puzzled expression.
The elder sister smiled softly, “Yes. He was a King of Equestria; our ancestor.”
Now it Taberanyn’s turn to raise an incredulous eyebrow, “Oh really? And where is our castle?”
Her sister took a breath to retort, but instead sighed, dropping her eyes, “There is no castle, there is no crown, and there is no kingdom.”
Taberanyn rolled her eyes, “I suppose some dull-witted stallion might be impressed, Nikól, but—“
“It’s true,” Henarion admitted, “You two are descended from royalty, and your father was the Exilarch.” He saw Taby’s lost look, “The leader…of sorts, of all the alicorns in Equestria. It doesn’t matter much in this age; nothing comes with it besides a fancy title and that sword you put over there,” he pointed at Eónadin resting against the wall.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you getting caught up in the games and scheming of these lords; seems like it happened anyway with you, Nikóleva.”
Taberanyn let loose a quiet chuckle, “Looks like you and I are more special than we thought, Sister. But what does it have to do with the guard?”
“I can’t be sure. The Prince feels that because of my bloodline I can help reunify the Kingdom. I’m not sure how he intends to do that, but honestly I’m simply happy to serve as a knight.”
“Even that’s too much,” Henarion shot, his voice laced with that familiar bitterness, “You’re better off staying out of all those politics. Us alicorns are big enough targets as it is, let alone ones going ‘round saying they’re the rightful Queen.”
Nikóleva’s face grew deadly serious right then, “I swore a sacred oath to the Prince; I will not leave,” she calmed down a bit, “I’ve done that enough.”
Henarion glared with his good eye, “And I swore an oath to your father, and your grandfather, that I’d keep you two safe. My bloodline comes from the Captain of Vasílion’s personal bodyguard, and my ancestors have protected yours ever since. And I won’t be the one who breaks faith,” he too let his demeanor drop, “It’s terrible enough I let your father die.”
“I told you never to say that!” Taberanyn shouted, a fiery rage engulfing her, seemingly from nowhere. She slammed her hooves on the table, and stood up to stare down Henarion.
The home became deathly silent, the other ponies with stunned confusion on their faces. Taberanyn bared her teeth and heaved deliberately, but when she caught sight of little Eldowas shrinking in his seat, wrapping his own foreleg around his mother’s, her anger and hurt evaporated away like morning dew. To see a colt usually so joyous and energetic in a state of terror…the dark blue alicorn swiftly returned to her seat, unable to meet anypony else’s eyes.
Nikóleva gazed a few moments at her sister; what had happened during all this time? The Taby she knew would never produce such an outburst. The white mare placed a hoof on her sister’s shoulder, and gave her a loving smile. Taberanyn glimpsed the gesture and soon returned it.
The Wanderer of the North did not yet know it, but her sister had borne witness to a number of terrible things, of which one of the most haunting was seeing Henarion at his lowest.
The orange stallion cleared his throat once he ascertained that his son wasn’t distressed anymore. “Taberanyn is right: we’re not here for my own self-pity. You’re over fifty, Nikóleva, you’re a grown mare. I can’t stop you from doing anything anymore than I could when Maiëlindir was your age,” Henarion conceded, smugly grinning and crossing his forelegs, “I suppose being stubborn’s in your ‘Royal Blood’.”
Nikóleva digested his words, and tried to figure out what her father might say about all this Canterlot business. She looked up at Henarion, and couldn’t help but giggle; his words sounded even more mocking in that rustic northern accent. Finally, after taking another bite of her dinner, she took a quick look over the table’s other occupants, “Thank you.”
The rest of the meal was rather free from any more grave instances. Eldowas was first to set the trend, asking Nikóleva about what being a knight was like. The mare indulged him, and like she had so many times before, she enraptured a wide-eyed youth with her stories of epic and perilous deeds. Taberanyn too got involved, and deciding she didn’t want her sister to steal all the fame and glory shared a few of her adventures.
Taberanyn and Henarion’s journeys had taken them through the hills and vales and forests of Equestria, encountering many odd creatures. The two had seen curious “bat-ponies”, encountered and fought hydras and even the rare bunyip. Taby told one instance when she’d actually sparred against a dragon, came to a draw, and shared a drink.
It was no Greater Dragon, but Nikóleva conceded that her sister wasn’t so meek anymore. In fact, the elder mare was honestly shocked to learn that Taberanyn had grown up into a fairly capable combatant. When asked where her weapon was, Taberanyn replied it was in the shed; a simple logging axe.
Nikóleva smirked; of course it was.
But she couldn’t help but feel uneasy at this revelation. Alicorns were effectively thrust into a rough life of violence and bloodshed, and some argued that her race were natural-born warriors. Their history and heritage she had learned certainly suggested as much; Nikóleva didn’t have to like it, though.
The most distressing matter, however, was that in some ways Nikóleva no longer recognized her own sister. So much time had passed, and so much had changed…no, it would fine…there’d be plenty of time to catch up. The two sisters had centuries more to make new memories. Nikóleva would make sure they’d never be parted again.
The evening wore on, and the mirth died down some. A few cups of light draft beer had calmed down the adults for now. Nikóleva was eager to challenge Henarion to a drinking contest, but decided against it. If the old stallion even managed to survive that ordeal against the giant white mare, such an activity would be very irresponsible.
For in the morning Nikóleva—Dame Wintermail would need to lead Henarion and his family to Canterlot. There the Prince certainly wanted to meet them, and they’d stay as her own guests. When she told Primrose and Eldowas, they were positively ecstatic. Henarion didn’t like it much, but he yielded to the high spirits of his two dear treasures.
Soon everypony adjourned from the table. Nikóleva thanked Primrose for the meal, and offered to help with the dishes. A short washing later and everypony went off to bed. The two sisters shared a hug, and Taberanyn offered the pink-maned pony her own bed to sleep in, but Nikóleva insisted on staying on the couch; she’d slept on far worse before.
She was exhausted from the day, physically and emotionally. Today had been a dream come true, almost unreal. As she lay by the dying fire, Nikóleva peaked out the window and stared up at the moon. Eyes heavy and fading from consciousness, the alicorn remembered a word of wisdom her dear father once gave, “Trust Lórian, and all will be provided; we simply need to pick the fruit from the tree.” As of late a number of trees had shown themselves, and the most recent had produced perhaps the sweetest fruit of all.
The mare craned her neck down and curled up on the perfectly-sized couch. Draping her massive wing across her body for that heavenly sense of coziness, she slipped into the most calming, blissful sleep of her life.
Nikóleva now had a family again, and she’d never let go of it.
*――――――――――S――――――――――*
“I did not believe for a moment that in my lifetime I’d meet an Heir of Solárindil,” Prince Petrafyrm began, eyes fixed on the two alicorns in his private tower, “And here I stand before two.”
Taberanyn bowed before the Prince, while Nikóleva stood next to her sister, clad in her Knight’s armor. The Ruler of Canterlot then turned his attention to his sworn bannerpony, “You did not tell me you had a sister. Frankly, Dame Wintermail, I am disappointed.”
The Knight’s expression plummeted. She bowed her own neck and looked at the floor, “I ask forgiveness, my Liege. There were…circumstances preventing me—“
“I will not scold you like a foal. There are far more important matters to discuss.” His attention shifted towards the blue mare. He gently brought a hoof under her chin and led her face back up. “Taberanyn, isn’t it?” he asked with a patient and calm smile.
Taby had a difficult time making eye contact, and took a moment to respond. She licked her lips before speaking up, “Yes my…Lord. I…it is a wonderful honor…”
The sovereign rolled his eyes and smirked, “Of course it’s ‘an honor to meet me’. Ponies simply adore meeting nobles. The charm wears off once you meet enough of them; many are spoiled, indolent things. But I digress: Taberanyn,” he extended his hoof, returning to that stately visage his Princeship had perfected, “I would like to extended an offer to you.”
Henarion had been standing off in the room’s sitting area, speaking quietly with his wife. He had been spending the time admiring the rich paintings and sculptures in the chamber, but the mere idea of the Prince “leeching” his tendrils into Taberanyn as he did with Nikóleva—he jumped up and sternly walked towards the Lord.
“What sort of ‘offer’?” the orange alicorn intoned.
Despite being shorter than the full grown alicorn, the Prince could not be intimidated. He flashed a deathly stare from his purple eyes and stood defiant. His expression softened once he saw Henarion recoil ever so slightly. “A chance to study under the most prolific and respected scholar in all of Canterlot. And of course to be instructed in the art of combat by the finest weapons master I can recruit.”
He raised a hoof and pointed at Taberanyn, “She would live here in the castle, with her sister. They are Royalty, and deserve to receive a grand education. Poor Nikóleva could not even read when I met her.”
Henarion continued to glare, “Books ain’t going to feed us or keep the dogs away. Besides I need her help tending to my land; how else am I supposed to pay your taxes.” Henarion’s final words were laced with a vicious kind of sardonicism.
“The harvest season is over, is it not?” the Prince retorted. Henarion grimaced, but relented and nodded. “What else is there to do once the snow falls?”
“Fix what was broken in the summer by those damned dogs, which my Liege was supposed to protect me from.”
The Prince raised an eyebrow, “I recall you, Henarion. You came to my court several years before and I believe I granted you that land. In exchange I expected your services to the realm in times of need. To deny somepony in your home the chance to serve, why that’d be breaking faith, would it not?”
Henarion clenched his teeth, “Is that a threat?”
“Certainly not; merely an observation,” the Prince coolly spoke, levitating up a teacup to sip from.
“That’s a shame…,” Henarion muttered before a light knock on his head caused him to find his senses once more. He turned his head to see that Primrose was standing beside, looking very displeased.
“You forget your manners!” she berated.
Henarion then saw Nikóleva glowering at him as well, understanding that she took her vows to the Prince quite seriously. He sighed, “I apologize, your Highness. I’m…concerned for Taberanyn’s safety…but,” he paused, remembering the years he’d spent with the blue mare—seeing how much she’d grown, “You didn’t ask me.”
The four other ponies faced Taberanyn. She tensed up, and groaned a bit before speaking, “I am not sure…what I want.”
“Please, take all the time you need,” the Prince then sat down on one of the couches and continued drinking his beverage.
Taberanyn took a moment and crept towards one of the windows. High in the white tower she could see the glory of Canterlot, the surrounding alabaster wall and its battlements. The billowing banners reminded her of the epics she’d heard being recited by traveling minstrels. Now, with the knowledge that she possessed “royal” blood, it became exciting to imagine herself in songs and tales of her own. Would she get an Equestrian name like her sister had? What would it be?
But then she remembered Henarion, and his home and family. She’d been with him so long…and there was much work to do; she could not simply abandon them. She belonged on a plot of land, sowing and harvesting. Wasn’t that the station of an alicorn: perpetual anonymity?
Nikóleva slowly advanced beside her sister, and joined Taby in looking out the window. The blue mare’s teal eye glanced to her sister’s magenta one, “What do you think?”
Nikóleva took a deep breath, a heavy expression on her face, “I’m so sorry that I left you...I want to make it up to you. I have duties here; I am sworn to the Prince and his people. But you and I belong together.” Turning from the window, Nikóleva resumed speaking to the other ponies in the room, “It was not chance that you found me, Henarion; there was a purpose for it.”
Henarion’s eyes shifted about as he contemplated the idea.
The white alicorn the met her sister’s eyes, “I believe…there’s something to all this. We are meant for something greater than the simple vagabond life. Perhaps one day there might be a ruler of Equestria again, and perhaps we might be alive to see it, but I…,” she took one more look at the Prince, his expression full of pride for her, “Know we have a part to play in that.”
Nikóleva offered her hoof to Taberanyn, “Can you accept my apology, and join me?
The midnight blue alicorn silently consulted Henarion, who smiled and nodded slightly. Looking back at her sister, Taberanyn bumped Nikóleva’s hoof. “Fine, but I want a nice title—and a bejeweled sword like you,” she laughed, grabbing her sister for a hug.
“I think something could be arranged,” the Prince chortled, “I cannot thank you enough, Taberanyn. You will receive the finest training available. But for now,” he said levitating a silver tray and removed the lid, “Would anypony care for a tart and a hot drink?”
Primrose happily accepted the gesture, and retrieved two confections. She gave the second to her husband, and Henarion gruffly took a bite. “There still remains the matter of those Diamond Dogs,” he reminded.
The Prince poured everypony a cup of tea and set the pot down, “Certainly. I promise you, Henarion, everything will be dealt with once the thaw comes.” He sat down and silently enjoyed the idle conversation starting up by the others. A heavenly sense of warmth glowed in his chest, and not simply from the tea!
When he’d heard Wintermail had left her post yesterday, he wasn’t terrible thrilled about it; there was work the Guard needed to do. But when she’d returned this morning and introduced him to her sister…it was almost overwhelming. His prayers had been answered, and like his trusted Knight had said it was all for a reason. Taberanyn seemed kind and capable, and if she was anything like her sister then the Prince had nothing to fear and everything to expect.
This day had been so perfect; little Lord Vale had taken well to his new friend Eldowas. Right now they were probably playing colt’s games in the courtyard, like pretending to be knights. Henarion was rigid and bitter, but the Prince could hardly blame him after over a century of eking out a difficult living. His wife, on the other hoof, was downright pleasant company.
Holding himself with noble dignitas, he refilled his cup and placed some sugar in it. All the pieces were coming together very nicely, and if the Diamond Dogs played right into his hooves—and they would most certainly do so—then he’d be well poised to begin the next phase of his endeavors.
For in spring, with two royal alicorns in his service, the time would finally be right to call for the first time in over a hundred years a congress of Equestria’s Lords.
*――――――――――S――――――――――*
The harsh wind billowed across the vast prairie, the first stings of winter’s chill in the air. Here, on the western limits of civilized ponies lied the bulwark against the fierce tribes beyond Equestria. The Kingdom of Mareposa for centuries stood steadfast in the work to contain the mustang hordes and Minotaur chiefdoms, preventing their overflow into the wealthy realms in the east.
The kingdom grew from a fortress built upon the steppe, on a river that breathed life into the vast farmland once cultivated in the western leys of Equestria. When Thunderhoof the Valiant was killed, and the pony-lands fractured apart, Goldsoetha, the Warden of the Plains, took up her sword and fought the mustang warlord Ögedi and won. The legend tells how she broke the warlord’s own blade and severed his head. Goldsoetha then threw it before his blood-sworn companions, and the mustangs fled in terror at the death of their greatest champion.
From then, Goldsoetha was crowned by her ponies “Queen of Mareposa, Defendress of the West”. The realm grew in time, to rival even the rich cities and the glittering princedoms to the east. But that was centuries before, and since then Mareposa has declined. The borders became insecure, the harvests weaker and weaker. The brutal winters became longer and more terrible. The augers told of a great evil working its fell magic in the mountains; many disregarded this as superstition.
And even then, despite Mareposa no longer being supreme on the plain, the great fortress still stood ever-impregnable. A great encircling wall topped with dozens of battlements kept watch over the countryside for miles around. The Mareposan Honor Guard was trained to take no prisoners, and fall upon their great pikes should the Kingdom ever be threatened. Defeated mustangs and minotaurs could expect their disembodied heads to mount the crenelations of the walls, and captured warchiefs were often skinned alive and displayed before the gates.
Mareposan ways were terrifying and cruel, matching nicely with their homeland, and their enemies. Some in the privileged, decadent east chided that the uncivilized primitives had rubbed off on them; hard words for such soft ponies.
The mettle of the western bastion would be tested soon enough. The Honor Guard assembled atop the walls, battle-ready and watching the assembled host of savages from across the south and west. Perhaps tens of thousands of minotaurs and mustangs stood outside, snarling and brandishing their cruel weapons.
The city had raised its levy of citizens and every available building and block was filled with the militia. Leading the defense was King Crimson Blitz himself, dressed in the plain armor any red-blooded Mareposan would take pride in.
He was a strong stallion, a bright red unicorn with an earth pony’s physique. This was standard for the mixed yet robust blood of the Mareposans. Bright green eyes narrowed down at the raised banners of the enemy, the standard of that new Minotaur King who had united the disparate tribes. They endeavored to invade Equestria—but to do so they’d have to first smash through Mareposa, and not once had this happened in over a thousand years.
His horns lit up, and from his scabbard he drew the great ancestral sword of Queen Goldsoetha. Purportedly a gift from the mythical alicorns, it was bladed with primordial steel, the metal itself having been forged in fire and magic. Unable to rust or dull, the weapon was one of the last to be made of the legendary material, its secret long lost and its makers long gone.
It once had an alicorn name, but Goldsoetha preferred to call it “Hordebreaker”. Its mottled steel shone in the sunlight, and its bejeweled hilt flashed across the army of Mareposa. He’d made his speech, his people roused; now was the time for deeds. He heard a trumpet sound in the horde below, and the force advanced.
Interspersed through the Minotaur-Mustang host were large grey beasts. Crimson Blitz had never seen or heard of such creatures, ugly things with long noses and big ears. White tusks jutted from their heads, and atop the animals were wooden saddles holding their zebra handlers.
He raised his sword, and called out, “Archers!” Seconds later a deluge of projectiles zipped through the air, blanketing a great part of the horde. Hundreds went down instantly, but this was but a drop in the sea of thousands. The war-beasts seemed to have armor on, and the arrows left them unfazed. More waves of arrows, and more minotaurs and mustangs were claimed, but it wasn’t enough.
No matter; the King did not expect so easy a victory. The foe brought ladders to the walls, and began to set them against the stone. Warriors from atop the battlements began pouring boiling oil down on them. The shrieks of agony were horrifying, and from his vantage point Crimson Blitz could see strips of their flesh slithering off. Some gave mercy to their burned comrades with a sword.
But so close to the walls the invaders were easier targets for the archers, and many fell from the ladders by arrows and thrown stones. Those that ascended were speared by the Honor Guard, and one ladder was even pushed backwards, falling onto a contingent of minotaurs.
After some time, the lumbering giant beasts made it to the walls, and began beating the gates. One was hit by oil, and letting loose a haunting cry, rearing up before falling down on dozens of warriors. Another was spooked, and began running amok across the field. Presumably one of its handlers managed to put the beast down, for it fell dead a short time later.
His people fought bravely, but in the end there were too many. Some minotaurs made it up the walls, and their superior size and strength proved too much against the poorly-armed defenders. One gatehouse fell an hour into the engagement. The King tried to send members of his Guard to pry other places up, but it was to no avail.
One of the war-beasts broke open the heavy gate, and in rushed a flood of mustangs. The nomads, armed with their metal-wool caps and curved sabers, wreaked havoc on the Mareposan levies. They galloped through and cut down any in their pathway. The King saw the carnage, and knew the outer city was lost. He raised Hordebreaker and called out, “Fall back! To the Keep!”
As he ran down the ramparts to lead his host back to the inner fortress, his attending Captain of the Honor Guard gave one final nod and gathered the elite pikeponies. In a steadfast phalanx formation, the ponies maneuvered to contained the invaders, allowing the lighter militias to retreat.
Hundreds upon hundreds of mustangs and minotaurs were viciously gored by the wall of pikes, and even one of the grey war-monsters was skewered through, its death knell a blaring trumpet of pain. But in the end the multitudinous hordes could simply win by attrition. The Honor Guard slew a dozen foes for every one of their numbers, but it only delayed the inevitable. Once the phalanx was flanked, it fell apart. The Guardsponies fought to the death, as valiantly as any hero in the ancient epics. The God Lionheart would have been proud, but they still died.
King Crimson Blitz hurried the last of his warriors into the inner keep, and stood atop the fortress. More war-beasts barreled onward, and as they had at the outer fortifications smashed through, the same savage horde bursting in like roaring water through a broken dam. Minotaur bands and mustang herds alone could not have done this, but the minotaurs had their own King and the mustangs a Great Warchief. Such unity had never existed before in either’s ranks.
The King understood well; once Mareposa had fallen, they’d march on the rest of Equestria, and lay waste to it. Perhaps the Age of Ponies was nearing its end…better to face it ever defiant and courageous. He looked at his remaining soldiers, so many now dead and trampled over. They’d enslave the mares and foals, and kill the stallions; not one pony wielding a weapon would survive the day.
The enemy flowed into the fortress courtyard, and engaged the Mareposans. The King raised Hordebreaker one last time, and charged headlong into the fray. He impaled one mustang with his horn, another’s head cleaved off by his ancient blade. Dozens were felled by the unleashed fury of Mareposa’s sovereign, and he’d even fought and killed a Minotaur champion.
His muscles were wearing down though, and soon he utilized magic to continue his rampage. A bright green bolt was directed at a random mustang, and moments later he was engulfed in a cloud of fire, burning to cinders seconds later. The screams were horrible, but the King spared neither pity nor remorse.
A hundred foes must have been slain by Crimson Blitz, but eventually his magic ran low. His head throbbing, he couldn’t focus on his battle-spell, and heaved in exhaustion. The knights and militia ponies around him were tired too, and put up little resistance as more and more savages advanced. One large minotaur, adorned with tattoos and scars, and even a pony’s skull slung across his chest, spat some foul language at his subordinates, and they rushed the King.
He summoned his remaining strength and channeled his magic into Hordebreaker. Glowing with the intensity of the sun, Crimson Blitz cut down the approaching minotaurs. Yet with every swing his mind and body became a little more spent, and eventually the glow subsided. His horn fizzled and Hordebreaker was dropped from his aura. The minotaur champion picked up the blade and smiled, shouting more commands in his language.
The creatures grabbed the King’s legs and drug him towards one of the city’s temples. Fading from consciousness, his eyes widen in horror as one of the last war-beasts left alive reared up and smashed down one of the temple’s walls. Mustangs galloped through the breach and smashed the carved statues of the Gods.
Lionheart’s stone head rolled to Crimson Blitz, and he took one long look as they put him upon the temple’s altar. Held down by four strong minotaurs, the not-yet defeated sovereign gathered his remaining power and unleashed his fire spell one last time. All four were incinerated, and he utilized his reinvigorated magic to steal his blade back from the champion. One final uppercut opened the Minotaur’s torso, and his putrid entrails slithered out.
As he turned to kill the others in the vicinity, a shroud of purple aura captured his limbs. Thrashing, gritting his teeth, he soon found the magic coming from a few mustang shamans, their eyes glowing a sickly green and trailing that same purple haze. How could this have been possible? Earth ponies cannot use magic!
It didn’t matter: he was slammed back upon the altar. Unable to move—even breathe—he writhed in his failure. Crimson Blitz could not save his kingdom, his city, nor his people…
One of the shamans then developed bloody red cracks on his face, and started to shriek in agony. Blood trickled from the cracks, and his skin aged rapidly. Dropping to the ground, the green glow subsided from his lifeless eyes.
The king was still restrained, and a Minotaur acolyte approached and brandished a shiny black dagger. Hovering it over Crimson Blitz’s heart, he plunged it down, ignoring the King’s cries. With one swift motion his still-beating heart was cut out, and the acolyte uttered a dark and fell incantation.
Once a proud and just warrior-King, Crimson Blitz was now a sacrifice to a dark god. The last sensation he was cursed to endure was his blood being drawn from his pores by black magic. He closed his eyes, praying that Allfather would judge him virtuous, and for a place amongst Lionheart’s Ethereal Host.
The trails of blood moved down the altar, and filled the circular design on the temple’s exposed floor. As the King’s body crumbled to dust leaving nothing but bone, the blood started to glow bright blue, and a ring of light shot up into the air. The present minotaurs and mustangs joined in the wicked chant of the acolyte, and the shamans directed their blood magic to the ring.
Steeling themselves through the pounding aches in their heads, the shamans heard only one thing; an indication that their work had begun successfully.
Echoing through the city and across the plain, to the chill of every creature, was a single malicious laugh.
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Going all the way back to my first set of comment, yes Nikóleva would get along famously with Aurum Celeste of Clan Everfree. Heaven help you if you harm their sisters.
Damn things are getting good. You haven't lost your touch
Another exciting chapter right on the tail of the previous. Thanks!
How often will new chapters be updated?
8478259
Here this might interest you
8478560
Difficult to say, I want to make it every two weeks but I don't know how feasible that is.
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I suppose I just needed to get back my spirit. Also I love the name Aurum Celeste; we need to hear her story!
8479390
Likely never will hear it, I've drifted away from this fandom and concentrating in another. The idea is there, but not the will to put pen to paper.
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Boy I completely understand
8479488
Ideed. It's all in my mind, but still Nicky and Aurum would get along... after they trade insults and confused looks.
Some things I noticed while reading:
Celestia just gave a sardonic smirk, “I'm not that old.” The two shared a giggle and turned back towards the doors. Shutting them, Celestia latched them up and started down further into the hallway. “There’s still one more thing I’d like to show you,” she said, leading the way.
“Mmm…not quite. The castle technically belongs to the State. I used to receive a fifth of all crown finances for my personal use a long time ago,” Celestia began, gesturing her hoof into the air, “But new ideas about the purpose and practice of government convinced a faction in Parliament to requisition that. In exchange I was given a permanent lease on my tower apartment and the rooms down here to do whatever I want with.”
The creatures grabbed the King’s legs and dragged him towards one of the city’s temples. Fading from consciousness, his eyes widened in horror as one of the last war-beasts left alive reared up and smashed down one of the temple’s walls. Mustangs galloped through the breach and smashed the carved statues of the Gods.
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Thank you good reader for your services.
Boy the things I'd do to have the Solar Princess sit on me... 😋
This went from cute to scare very quickly
IS THAT AN UPDATE FOR MY FAVORITE STORY I SEE?!?
I need to finish writing so I can read this...
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I hope your bones are laced with adamantium...
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Best of luck in your endeavors!
And instantly Alondro, sensing troll potential, popped into the room and declared to the Prince as innocently as such a wicked being could, "But you're already here."
He was chased for miles by all available guards, laughing and singing the troll anthem all the way. Later his child from 6 different mothers (and species... don't ask how the biology worked. Even Elder Gods can't figure Alondro's methods out), Discord, would torment ponies for ages.
Also, great. ANOTHER Dark God. I'm really getting sick of these things. Every Me-damned fanfic site... I have to kill THOUSANDS of the stupid things. They're always all like, "BLAH BLAH POWER BLAH BLAH ETERNAL DARKNESS BLAH BLAH SOULS BLAH BLAH CRYSTAL SLAVES!!" And really, they're all just a bunch of emo dorks trying to pretend they're as hard core as Lucifer.
8495064
They a bunch of boys playin' a man's game, I tell ya hwat.
8495861 Melkor got it right at first, but then he turned into Morgoth and then it was wangst, wangst, wangst!
Jesus Christ that was awesome. The way you write is enrapturing, my friend. You still got it!
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The way you comment warms my heart, friend!
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That's absurd...hehehe... *furiously edits drafts*
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