Prologues

by Broken Phalanx

Interlude 2: Noblesse Oblige

There comes a time in every foal’s life where his or her parents will sit him or her down and have a nice long talk. On the occasion where the discussion isn’t about the birds and the bees, it is almost unanimously about the creation of Equestria, and of the world entire. And at that point, the talks would cease to exist in the realm of philosophy or biology, and instead enter into theology, a touchy subject at the best of times; many a young pony has been sent to bed without supper simply for asking the wrong questions, simply because they didn’t know they were being offensive.

Thankfully, this was not such a time.

“The Alicorns?” the filly asked, with bated breath, as she lay curled up beside her mother.

“Exactly, sweetie,” the mother replied, nuzzling the young pony, “In the beginning, there was nothing but barren earth. But the Alicorns decided that-”

“What does barren mean, mom?”

“It means empty, dear. The Alicorns decided that a land with such potential should-”

The younger pony again opened her mouth to ask the obvious question, but her mother, with great foresight, quickly added, “Potential means what something might be able to do, if tended with love.”

“Oh.”

“You understand now, sweetie? Now . . . where was I . . .? Ah, yes . . . So, the Alicorns used their magic to make the world green, springing forth plants and water with their talents. But they were just starting.”

“Oh?”

“Yep, they were simply beginning. They went on to make a number of other things, such as the mountains, the forests, and even the deserts, before finally putting all the living things on the earth.”

“Even ponies?”

“Especially ponies, sweetie.”

“Even humans?”

Ah. This was always the trickiest part for a parent; the mother wanted to face-hoof in shame, as she had considered asking her own mom how she had handled this issue when it had cropped up for her, but had dismissed the likelihood of the question being asked, particularly by the little filly curled up beside her, as nil.

She really should’ve asked, in hindsight.

“Humans, well . . .”

And the speech formed, unbidden, from the darkest recesses of her hate. They’re aberrations. Monsters in flesh. They need to all die, burned and cut down to the last, and for their homelands to be salted with their own blood.

She looked at her daughter, whose eyes were wide and innocent, and the words died in her throat.

“Even humans, sweetie,” the mother said, lying through her teeth.

“Oh.”

The little filly snuggled closer to her mom, rested her head on her mom’s barrel, and sighed.

“Where are the Alicorns now?”

Ah. Back to significantly more solid theological ground. That was good.

“Well, you see, sweetie, after they finished their work, they returned to their homes to rest. They watch over us, though; when we really need them, they’ll appear and aid pony-kind.”

The filly merely nodded tiredly at this; she was already past most of the stages into drowsiness, and was on the precipice of nodding off.

Lethargically, in a half mumble, the filly asked, “When’s dad coming home?”

The mother’s expression hardened, only to soften a moment later as she gently said, “He’ll be home soon, sweetie. It’s just that he’s . . . got a lot of work to do, you understand?”

The filly merely mumbled something in reply, nestled closer to her mother, and started to snore.

It was . . . difficult, at times, the mare reflected as she looked her sleeping daughter, to believe in most of those things. Religion it may be, but those stories had essentially become little more than fables, myths at most.

She looked down again at the filly, peacefully slumbering, and felt her lips quirk upwards, just slightly.

It didn’t really matter, she thought as she slowly leaned over and sleepily closed her eyes, if Alicorns were real or simply the byproduct of an over-imaginative pony of a bygone era; this, here and now, was enough.

Author's Note:

Interludes will likely run from 500 to 2000 words. Anything more and I think it's better off being a part of a 'true' chapter.

Comments

[Kyle the Scrublord]

Weeeell then these ponies are very backwards thinking aren't they?