• Published 29th May 2014
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Divine Jealousy and The Voice of Reason - Jordan179



Late Season 4: When Discord discovers that Fluttershy has another love interest, will he attempt a traditional solution? Or can a Voice of Reason stay his hand?

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Chapter 9: The World Before Discord

Twilight Sparkle

"It was my fault."

Shock stung Twilight Sparkle at Luna's words. The room seemed to spin around her.

"No ... Luna ..." Twilight said. "How? ... it's not possible ..."

"I was there," replied Luna grimly, her voice pained. "I know what I did. And what I failed to do. The fault was mine."

"But ..." Twilight protested, looking up at Luna's face. She noticed that Luna did not seem to want to meet her gaze -- instead the midnight-blue Alicorn jerked her head away, her mouth twisting. "Princess Celestia told me what happened ..." Twilight said. "None of you remembered who you really were. Nopony figured it out until it was too late. You didn't know ..." a horrible thought came into her head. She steppd back, asked in a small voice "Did you?"

Luna looked down. "I did not know," she admitted. "But I should have guessed. I knew more than the others. Knew it longer. I just did not want to admit ... did not want to admit what I had learned. What I had done. What I had meant to do. I was too ashamed ... hurt in my own daft vain pride, while our doom was rising amongst us ...a foolish, foalish little filly, for all that my form was full-grown ..."

"I don't understand ..." said Twilight softly. "What you did, what you failed to do ... what happened?"

"I am dancing about the truth," Luna said. "I do not wish to speak it. I fear the moment when I tell thee, when I see the admiration in your eyes change to scorn. Your friendship has meant so much to me of late, and I do not want thee to think me base. But if I do not tell thee, thou wilt not understand, thou wilt keep hoping for the best from Discord ... I cannot betray thee, as I betrayed my kin before. I cannot let it happen again ... I must tell. I shall tell ..." she paused for a moment.

"I shall tell it all," said Luna. "From the start. As it began here, in the centuries after the coming of the Ice, when Equestria was new and Paradise Estate was so very old ..."

"Twenty-five hundred, four-and-twenty years ago ... when I was born ..."

***

Luna

Dost thou know what a strange world it was then? How big? How wide? How dangerous?

It was fourteen hundred, two-and-fifty years since the Cataclysm tore thy world asunder. We were closer to it in time than thou art today to the first defeat of Discord. The scars of that terrible day, when gigaton explosions blossomed from the backlash of the failed Great Work, when the lands shook and the mountains spouted fire, when the seas slopped over the lands and the lands rose up from the bottom of the sea, when the towers fell and Ponykind was plunged screaming into never-ending nightmare -- they were newer both on the world and in the minds of Ponies than they are today.

There had been eight billion Ponies alive on Earth when the day of Cataclysm dawned. There were eight hundred million when Night cast its kindly veil over the ruins of what had been a great global civilization. A year later, scarce eighty million survived. Put simply, but one in a hundred Ponies had lived.

These numbers, mine own dear friend, are easy to speak. Numbers are simple and clean. Numbers are not vaporized too quickly to understand what is happening; or badly burned but left to perish in unspeakable anguish over a few remaining hours of life; or crippled and forced into an unequal struggle for survival in a newly hostile world, untreated wounds bringing pain at every step in their last days or weeks of existence. Numbers do not weep over dead husbands or foals; numbers do not wander uncomprehendingly through the ruins of what had been their world; numbers are not forced to do dreadful things to survive. Numbers are not cast down from the heights of easy lives in an advanced technological civilization to labor unceasingly to live in a world turned into an Iron Age hell.

Numbers do not suffer. Ponies did. Each of those nine-and-ninety in a hundred who died suffered in her own way, and each of those one in a hundred who survived knew the anguish of dead friends and family, wondered why she had been chosen to survive when so many for whom she cared had not been so fortunate. Most were, by the standards of the time in which they had been born, quite mad.

That is what I mean by scars on Pony minds. Those who survived did so by forcing themselves to become harsh, even cruel by the standards of the Ponies they had been before. A hundred years later, when the Pony populations reached their nadir, and only forty million Ponies lived on a planet that had once held two hundred times as many, the new societies that sprang up were firmly based on loyalty to one's own, and callousness to everypony else. It was a barbaric and savage, a deeply-demoralized world.

And yet Ponies rose again! That is the most marvelous thing about the species which I have chosen to become. Nothing defeats you for long, If even some of you survive, you will form families, clans, tribes, tribal nations ... you will be moved by the desire to do good to one another, rediscovering compassion, ethics and morality. Only a complete annihilation could stop you -- and as long as my Sister and I remember you, even that might not suffice, for we would do our best to recreate you on some new world. For one of the greatest victories of survival Ponykind has won, unawares, was in winning Our admiration and friendship.

A thousand years after the Cataclysm, there were perhaps a hundred million Ponies upon the Earth. Of these the vast majority were subject to other races -- to the Dragons, the Griffons, the Water-Serpents, so many other creatures. In one place alone did Ponies mostly rule themselves -- the northern parts of North Amareica. The climate was different then, the Earth much hotter, in what geologists call a Thermal Maximum. Where we are now was a steaming jungle; and away from the rivers barren deserts. The habitable regions were all in the northlands, especially around the Arctic Ocean, which was then free of ice.

In what was then the fertile southern reach, on the north shore of the Great Lake, stood the Crystal City, that very same one that last year thee didst help free from its tyrant. Founded by university scholars who fled the Cataclysm, it preserved a treasure of ancient books, containing lore from the Age of Wonders. You have yet to find many of them, as they were later hidden in a Secret Archive -- I see your ears perk at this; mayhap we might search for them together some time? I have some ideas where ... he ... may have put them.

Further north and to the west, the Three Tribes lived in a loose confederation on the Arctic coast. Each Tribe needed the other two, yet despised them. Closeness and hatred frequently bred anger, which sometimes led to violence, and there simmered hatreds which grew greater as time passed and the populations grew in the Old Tribelands.

Thou knowest what those hatreds drew from the depths of Void. The Windigoes came, and with them came the Ice. The Arctic Ocean froze solid, the fertile fields were deluged in snow and the glaciers grew and pounced from their mountain fastnesses. What had been the Old Homeland of the Tribes became the Northern Waste, home to Windigoes and Frost Giants and creatures less easily describable. Those who did not leave, or could not leave with sufficient haste -- no doubt their frozen corpses are still locked in the eternal ice.

Oh, she told thee about that? Well enow, for that was something I would fain not have revealed myself. Do not blame her for what she did, dear Twilight, for she was Cosmic then, and the Cosmic do not understand the ways of mortals, and I know she meant good to Ponykind. We have great power in our higher state, but for all our mighty intellects so little understanding of what it is to be limited. tp be mortal. We are ruthless -- I am glad to be Incarnate. I do not like my Cosmic self.

I can believe that her self cared. She has always been warmer than I. I speak only for myself, and I know that I am a force of destruction, which I with great effort try to turn to the defense of creation, and sometimes succeed in so doing. I know that I am of nature cruel, and my Cosmic self is crueller still. Thou shalt know this thyself someday, about Gravity, when we both discarnate, and we meet without the distractions of flesh.

Thou might be kind. I can easily imagine thee as kind, even when thou doth become naked Magic. But I ... I am not.

So civilization fell, for a second time in under a millennium. There was much death and suffering -- all of those in the Tribes endured freezing cold and the pangs of hunger. Perhaps half perished in the course of the Migration. A light toll, compared to the Cataclysm, though it must have seemed heavy enow to the Ponies unfortunate enough to live in that age. Celestia may have told thee that the version you played at the pageant papers over some of the grimmer parts. There are old records in the Great Library of the Crystal City that do not make joyous reading.

Through the Cataclysm, through all the changes in climate, the dust winter that lasted for years, the great thermal maximum, the onset of the ice and its partial retreat, Paradise Estate had endured. Forged of the mystic substances of the Eldren, given unto the Ponies of Dream Valley by one of the last great mages of that magical race, it sat slightly outside of time and space, in the Halfworld of the legends, and those who dwelt there were immortal.

They were mortal by nature, of course. But the magic of the Rainbow was in them, and in that place, and it preserved them through the long centuries, as outside their walls Ponies lived normal lifespans -- or often greatly shortened ones, in the world after the Cataclsym. There were wards woven around that place, cast by the strange science of the Eldren, and few might come there which they did not wish to invite within. It was a place of peace and love, in a world of war and hatred. It was a fairyland, in which the beauty and grace of the time before the Cataclysm reigned unbroken.

But there was a price, as is often the case for fairylands. If they ventured outside, the hand of time would slowly but inexorably settle upon them, and they might live out only the remainder of their mortal spans before Death claimed them. And within Paradise Estate, there had long since ceased to be growth and new birth. It was a ghost of the Olden Times, a light of knowledge, of magic and science surviving into a dark future, but a light that was very slowly dying. One could sense it there, breathing the air of stasis, the scent of a long slow ceasing.

At its height, when Paradise Estate had been the heart of the Reclamation, the taking-back of the world after the Age of Annihilation that had nearly claimed Ponykind six thousand years before the present day, three and a half millennia before even the remote past in which I was born, many dozens of mares had lived there, and many more had visited. Each month a different Big Brother Herd would come in to meet and greet their kin and their lovers, and there would be festivals and stories and matings.

Dost thou know how they had lived then? The sexes were apart, with the mare herds sedentary and the smaller stallion herds -- the "Big Brothers" -- nomadic. They had not done that because they hated each other. The light of Love shone brightly in Ponies even back then, but sheer survival dictated that they not all live together, not put all their genetic lineages in one basket. If a mare herd, or a stallion herd, was annihilated -- by one of the many monstrous perils that made the Earth a death-world for Ponies then -- the other herd would live, and it bore their genetic legacies.

I see tears in thine eyes. Yes, Twilight, they mourned their lost lovers, their murdered parents and children. They did not wish their world to be so fatal to their dear ones, but they had no choice, for they were prey and their predators many and merciless. The oldest Ponies at Paradise Estate, the ones who remembered the time before even they had been granted the Estate, told me of those times, and more than once they cried at the memories.

Toward the end, a desperate few -- Wind Whistler and Firefly were the leaders of this faction -- had started to consider that the role of predator and prey was not divinely ordained, that there was no reason in theory why the Ponies could not fight back. But they were but a few, and they had no idea how to do in practice what Firefly had felt and Wind Whistler reasoned. And they knew that at the first failure, the others would lose all hope.

Then came Tirek the Annihilator, Tirek the Undying to their last refuge and Firefly crossed the Bridge and brought back The Megan, whose race had risen up as killer apes. And she taught them the last thing they needed to know. She taught them how to kill, how to kill without remorse. She slew Tirek, though he would of course in after ages be reborn. And she fought many other warlords and fell monsters.

And then a light came into the eyes of the Ponies of Dream Valley, and they lifted weapons in their hooves, and they turned upon their tormentors, with the example of The Megan and the leadership of Firefly and Wind Whistler, whom the Megan in person taught the ways of war. And the light spread to the other Ponies who had survived, and ... by the time of the Age of Wonders, the monsters were no longer upon the face of the Earth, and Ponykind flourished in its hundreds of millions. And in most times and places, husbands and wives and children dwelt all together, and feared not an early separation at the claws of the beasts.

Dost thou wonder that they made of The Megan a goddess? She had saved Ponykind, though in time most Ponies forgot that she had been of another species entirely. Apotheosis has happened for lesser causes.

But that had been long ago, and now but a dozen or so beings still dwelt in Paradise Estate. The others had left, one after another, to rejoin the mortal world and raise families, and one after another they fell victim to Death's long-deferred reaping. Often they helped the mortal Ponies among whom they settled -- you would be surprised how many towns and realms were founded, how many arts and sciences, were restored, after the Cataclysm, by Ponies who had first drawn breath in Dream Valley. Some of their labors were swept away by Discord in the ensuing age -- but not all.

They were mostly isolated. A few mages and sages knew of Paradise Estate, and some were allowed in past the wards, and the Ponies of the Estate sometimes traveled out -- it took time for the Rainbow's protection to fade from them, so they might do this safely if they did not tarry overlong in the mortal world. There was trade of a sort, and a slow flow of news and ideas in and out.

So the Ponies of Paradise Estate knew something of the outside world. Of Lake City, founded almost a millennium ago, which had mastered an art of growing houses from regular solids, and was already better known as the Crystal Empire. Of the Land of Manehattan, island of the ruined titan towers, wrested by trickery from the savage Minotaurs three centuries ago, whose Pegasus sailors and Earth Pony merchants sailed fearlessly across all the seas.

The stone city of Lith, far to the south where the warm waters of the Gulf River flowed from Mexicolt to the Stormy Sea, where the Earth Ponies had settled two centuries ago and were already raising a mighty civilization. The Pegasus cloud-fortress of Derecho, ally of the Crystal Empire, cruising the Northern skies and with great war-engines furnished them by the Crystal-Imperials, beating back the attempts of the Northern Wastes to expand into the lands of Ponies. The magnificent Heartspire of the Unicorns, not yet sunken into decadence and worse, towering into the heavens in the lands beyond Mexicolt.

Other lands farther away, whose names were fable but from which there sometimes came strange treasures, making their way to Paradise Estate in return for some aid or knowledge.

Lost Hyperborea, whose ruins held the mysteries of Pony origins but were guarded by the Gnoph-Keh and the Frost Giants. Lands across the Stormy Sea, such as the North-Lands ruled by the Dragons, and the Griffon-Kingdoms of Taura and North Zebrica, and the Zebra nations who dwelt beyond the Burning Sands far to the south. Brave cogs made their way there, blown by winds summoned by the Pegasus sailors, and packed with wares of the wily Earth Pony merchants of Manehattan, and brought back ivory, and apes and gold.

The Badlands to the South of our own country, in which it was said the shy and secretive Flutter-Ponies still dwelt. Paradise Estate had long dealings with their Queen Rosedust, though even they found it hard to find them at times. They had a prophecy of a great doom approaching, and feared it might come from any quarter. But they trusted us more than most, for Paradise Estate had never harmed them. Poor creatures! They might have done better to flee from us as well!

We could no longer contact the Sea-Ponies as we had of old. They had fled Ponykind before the Age of Wonders, and the Cataclysm had shocked them to take refuge in the remotest deeps. There they had already interbred with older races, and now called themselves the Deep Ponies, but we might sometimes find them, and they told us tales of elder realms beneath the waves, of Many-Columned Y'ha-nthneigh, of Deep Gll'ho, and far-off Primal R'lyeh where their dead god lay dreaming. They were still our friends, though they had grown apart from the other Kinds.

Many, many lands still farther out, that we heard of from travelers' tales. Neigh-Pon of the Hundred Daimyos, Chi-Neigh of the Ten Draconates. Too many to describe, too many to even name, for I am of course delaying thee, feeding thy wondering and hungry mind with these outlines of a world that was, and is no longer. My world, the world of my innocent fillyhood, the world that my folly helped destroy. Which is the dark ending to which my tale, whether I will it or no, shall of need wend.

It was a wide and a dangerous world. There were no airships, no steamships, no railroads. There were not even any really good roads, in most places. Realms were small and quarrelsome; the unity of the Migration long since broken down by the centrifugal forces of the Settlement of Equestria, and the poor leadership of inadequate heirs to Platinum and Hurricane and Puddinghead. Everywhere, warlords and robber barons and brigands and pirates, monsters and natural obstacles, trade and travel possible only by numerous and well-armed companies. Even the immortals, armed with strange magic, unique artifacts, the marvels of technology and the experience of ages, needed to tread warily in such a world.

It was into that world that we three were born. Myself ... and my Sister ... and Him.

Discord.

Author's Note:

Lith, the City of the Earth Ponies; Derecho, Cloud Fortress of the Pegasi; and The Heartspire of the High Unicorns are creations of Cold in Gardez, from his fantastic work of fictional geography and history, Lost Cities. They were part of the ancient world which the young Celestia, Luna and Discord inhabited. Today, of course, they are legends and cyclopean ruins, relics of a past forgotten by most -- save for those who are very interested in history -- or very long-lived.

Luna is both.