Of The Past
Reddux the Tyrant
Chapter XII
Of The Past
The construction crew pounding on Hoofknife’s head was growing unbearable. He walked slowly through the halls of Estéril Pezuñas, grumbling to himself and ignoring the curious glances of the ponies he passed. Sweat glistened on his body as the sun’s oppressive heat continued to boil the interior of the castle. He would have given just about anything for a breath of cool air.
His mind kept going to his investigation, over and over again. Countless hours he’d been studying this city, aware that there was something going on just under the surface. Always the truth eluded him. Worse, he couldn’t even be certain the tiny clues he’d been chasing had any bearing on the dragons and their reasons for coming to Equestria.
There had to be something, for the dragons hadn’t properly invaded. Even if Celestia was right and the politics of the hoards kept all the dragons from attacking, why would those loyal to Reddux not come? They burned a fort, but that was small potatoes compared to what they could do.
Something was holding Reddux back, and Hoofknife had to find out what that something was.
He grimaced as his migraine throbbed. He needed to relax, and he knew of an easy way to do that. The still-sleeping Celestia wouldn’t mind if he basked in her presence for a little while.
The hall leading to Celestia’s chambers was heavily guarded. Hoofknife didn’t care for Royal Guards; though commendably loyal, they were too direct in their thinking. Their automatic response to just about any threat to the crown was to smash it. No finesse at all. Hoofknife walked past the numerous guards, all of whom watched him pass with impassive glares.
“Halt,” the Captain of the Guard growled as Hoofknife approached the door. “Nopony enters.”
Hoofknife raised an eyebrow and produced a small scroll from his coat pocket. He unfurled and held it before the captain, who didn’t lose his scowl as he read. After a few seconds of study, the captain sighed and thrust his head towards the door. “Go on, then.”
The scroll was replaced, and Hoofknife reminded himself to thank the Archons’ forger for doing such a good job with Sir Deeds’ signature. He pushed his way into the room, sucking in a deep breath as the cool air hit him.
Pausing to ensure the captain wouldn’t follow him, Hoofknife waited for the door to close. Sunlight streamed through the window, yet the air seemed still. He glanced around at the mostly empty place, which was adorned only by the large bed against the wall. The air felt cool here, almost cold, and made his sweat chill his entire body.
He approached the bed, breathless as he gazed upon Celestia’s sleeping form. Only her head could be seen from beneath the sheets, resting upon a large pillow with her mane partially covering her face. His heart thrummed in his chest; he desperately wanted to shift that mane and see her full beauty.
Hoofknife stood there for some time, just staring at her. He shoulders gradually began to sag, his breathing normalized, and the questions floating through his head went away. For the first time in what seemed like ages, he felt peaceful. A small smile curled upon his lips as he reminded himself that this – she – made it all worth it.
It was some time before he noticed. Everything was still. Perfectly, quietly still. At first he thought it just a trick of the mind, but as he continued to gaze upon his beloved princess, he started to fidget and wonder. His eyes left Celestia and roamed the room, seeking out the source of his uncertainty. Plain stone walls, dust floating in the rays of sunlight from the window, normal stone floor. Everything just as it should be. He examined every corner of the room, running in a circle with peering eyes.
His gaze fell upon Celestia once more. Nothing, there was nothing in here.
So why did he still feel so uncomfortable?
His eyes narrowed. He leaned forward to study the princess. Slowly, he walked around the bed until he was sitting next to her face, which he scrutinized. There was nothing off; Celestia proved every bit as beautiful as he remembered. So why did he…
Slowly, he raised his hoof. He let it rest on the bed just before her muzzle and waited.
Nothing.
He sucked in a sharp breath as understanding finally dawned upon him.
Celestia wasn’t breathing.
She wasn’t moving at all.
Hoofknife thought his heart might have stopped. His shaking hoof moved closer to touch her face and brush her still mane aside. He paused.
Her mane felt… wrong. He had touched it before – in a moment of curiosity she’d reluctantly indulged – and he remembered that sensation for the rest of his days. It had been like touching cool air, or perhaps water with less presence? But this… this felt like silk.
Hoofknife’s breathing normalized. He took a closer look, abruptly not so worried about invading personal space. He examined Celestia’s mane and saw that it was still multihued… but that made no sense. She’d told him years ago that her mane had originally been pink. If she had died, wouldn’t it have reverted back to its old color?
His eye went to the door, but he kept his mouth shut. He had to be certain first. All his pent up emotions shoved aside, he began to analyze and study the situation as best he could. He suddenly wished he had Fine Crime back; that stallion could solve mysteries with a skill that was almost frightening.
Bending over, he touched at Celestia’s cheek, then her throat. She felt warm. Granted, her death could have been recent, but Hoofknife’s instincts told him otherwise. He’d been around more than his fair share of dead bodies, and this entire situation was wrong. He could only come to one conclusion:
This was not Celestia.
So what was it? An enchanted mannequin? A body double made to look like her? Could it be simply a magical creation?
So where was Celestia?
A hint of alarm tried to press into his mind, but Hoofknife fought it down and forced himself to focus. Yet he didn’t fight down the anger. It boiled within him, sending a cold shiver up his body. Either Celestia had some special scheme in mind that excluded him, or somepony had stolen her away.
She could even be dead for real. That thought dragged a low, long growl from his throat.
If somepony had stolen Celestia away under his watch, he would make them pay with their souls.
Fleur’s head was low, but it had nothing to do with the heat. She glared at the pack that bounced rhythmically from Fine’s side, her mind focused on the notebook within. She moved quietly, trying to control her breathing, moving her legs fluidly to minimize noise. She’d been coming gradually closer for almost an hour, but still she didn’t light her horn. A glance towards Fine’s face showed he wasn’t paying her any mind, his attention on the surrounding crags.
Closer.
Closer.
Just a tiny, tiny bit closer.
Carefully, she began to work the magic. The glow of her horn came gradually as she manipulated the spell, chewing her lip as the tiniest of magical hums reached her ears. The pack began to open. Fine made no attempt to stop it. Fleur’s breath was locked in her chest, her heart pounded with the taste of victory…
A loaf of bread rose from the pack.
She came to a stop, staring at the loaf for several seconds with her jaw loose. Her brain scrambled for a solution.
“Looking for something?”
She looked to Fine, who was watching her with a smug smile. “I moved it to another pack when you weren’t looking.”
She let out something that wasn’t quite a shout, nor a growl, but somewhere in between. She stomped a few times and snorted, tossing the bread at him. “I knew I had it this time!”
Fine caught the loaf in his magic, laughing at her frustration. “Keep trying, little miss. You’re going to have to be a lot sneakier than that.”
She raised a hoof threateningly. “I am going to get that notebook, Fine Crime, and when I do, I am going to rip it to shreds!”
“First you gotta figure out which pack I hid it in,” he replied with a smirk, turning to resume his walk. “Good luck, there’s only a dozen of them. Of course, you could always admit defeat.”
“Never.” She stomped after him. “You will not win, do you hear me?”
He still had that frustrating grin by the time she was beside him. “I like your attitude, little miss.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“I’ll call you whatever I want, little miss.”
She let out a growl and glared at her hooves. “Do you have to make it so frustrating?”
“Permit a stallion his amusement.” He sped up to a trot. “I don’t get it much.”
“What, amusement?”
He coughed and glanced away. “Look, we’re almost out of the Deadline Spikes.”
Fleur watched him, her frustration fading to a mere background noise. He avoided eye contact and kept his eyes locked on the horizon, where the end of the crags could at last be seen. He’d lost his mirth already, his face locked in a grim frown.
Not for the first time, Fleur had to wonder just what kind of a life he really led.
They continued in silence, both preoccupied with their thoughts. Fleur looked towards the horizon, where the crags slowly faded into lifeless, endless orange and red plains. She wilted a little at the sight, knowing she would miss the cool shade of the rocks when she slept. Thrice they’d camped within the stones, and it had become very clear that the crags were more a blessing than a burden.
They’d had plenty of time for hide and seek, too. They always ended the same way: with Fleur ‘dead’ and Fine smug. She didn’t begrudge her failures, for Fine always ended the games with helpful advice. It was a shame they wouldn’t be able to play anymore.
Perhaps more for him than for her.
The rocks were much smaller and farther apart when she at last spoke up. “Fine, do you have any friends?”
He snorted. “Can’t afford them.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because I’m just as likely to kill them as I am to say ‘hello.’”
She rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a dodge to me. And I suppose you feel you might kill me?”
“The thought’s occurred to me.”
She came to an abrupt stop, eyes going wide. “What?”
Fine kept walking, head held high. “There are things you haven’t figured out yet, Fleur. You’re going to realize those things eventually, it’s inevitable, and when you do you might just regret following me.”
Fleur gaped at him, then shook her head to clear it. She caught up at a trot, ears low as she studied his hard face. “And… when exactly will I be finding these things out?”
He glanced at the sun. “Without any reliable way to tell time, I can’t be sure. Once three weeks have rolled by, it’ll start.”
“What will start?”
“You’ll see.”
She chewed her lip, unable to look away from his hard face. “Would you… would you really try to kill me?”
“The effective phrase,” he replied with a solemn glance, “is ‘try not to kill you.’ Don’t worry, Fleur; I’m pretty good at controlling the urge.”
Fleur huffed a nervous giggle. “I get it. This is another joke, a trick made to unnerve me.” She raised her head and smiled. “Nice try, Fine, but I’m starting to learn your methods.”
He offered a strange smile. “And what about you? No friends, I presume?”
“I haven’t had time for them,” she admitted, her smile fading fast. “At the castle I was only allowed to meet with ponies who were in on Deeds’ behavior. Once I ran away, I spent all my time trying to not starve to death.”
“Figured as much.”
She glowered at him, but then her expression softened. “Perhaps you and I could give it a try?”
“And now you’re rhyming with such curious timing.” He snorted. “Don’t count on it.”
“You don’t even want to try?”
He eyed her with a quizzical frown. “I’m surprised you do.”
“I just—”
For just an instant, the world grew darker. Fleur’s heart became cold as ice as the sound of great wings reached her ears. There was a thunderous crunch, the cracked ground rippling under the weight of something massive that landed just behind them. Fleur spun about, her short cry echoing in the open emptiness as a golden dragon stood before them, its glazed eyes set upon her.
Before she knew what was happening, Fleur found herself cowering behind Fine, her head buried beneath her legs and his tail. Her throat was dry, her entire body trembled. Screams resounded in her ears and the scent of burning flesh filled her nostrils. The flames were licking at her coat again, forcing tears from her tightly closed eyes.
Something shook her. She screamed and tried to flee. The only thing that ran through her brain was an endless, streaming cacophony of I don’t want to die!
“Fleur!”
Everything came to a stop. Fine Crime was holding her by the shoulders, his alarmed, rosewood eyes gazing into hers. “It’s okay, Fleur. You’re all right.”
“F… F-Fine? What…” She heard the deep breaths and looked over his shoulder. The dragon was still there, watching her with a solemn frown.
The panic rose again, a tiny cry rising from her throat as she tried to pull herself away. Fine held her firmly, pressing her into a tight hug.
“It’s okay, Fleur. It’s okay.”
“…eat us. H-he’s gonna… Run. W-we need to…”
The ancient dragon raised a single great claw in a calming gesture. “Please be at ease, young one. I am not here to harm you.”
His grandfatherly voice hardly soothed. “You lie!” She squirmed in Fine’s hold but couldn’t break free. “Let me go! F-Fine, he’s… he’s gonna kill us!”
“If he wanted to kill us, he’d have already done it.”
“Let me go!” She managed to force her hooves between them and pushed against Fine’s chest. “Please, I don’t wanna die!”
Fine snarled and shouted in her face. “Think, Fleur! Where are you going to go? There’s nowhere to run to!”
The harsh truth of his words hit her. She looked up at the dragon again, gasping for air and feeling so horribly, hideously small. Shaking her head, she sank low and cowered in the dirt, prompting Fine to finally release her.
“P-please,” she whispered. “Don’t let it k-kill me.”
Fine studied her with a pained expression, but finally shook his head and turned to the dragon. He bowed low before it. “Greetings, Ancient One. My name is Fine Crime. Might I trouble you for yours?”
The dragon set a claw to his scarred breast and lowered his head in turn. “I am Parjin the Elder, and I apologize for frightening your friend.”
“Unless you were at Sueño, I do not believe that is your fault.”
The dragon’s eyes widened, great saucers as large as a pony. “You mean she is a survivor?” At Fine’s nod, the creature exhaled a long, shuddering breath. He turned his attention to Fleur, who still trembled on her barrel and watched him with an unblinking gaze. “What is your name, young one?”
She swallowed, but it didn’t save her throat from the dryness. “F-F-F… F-Fleur.”
Parjin took a step back and lowered his body until he was lying flat on the ground, his long snout aimed Fleur’s way. He closed his eyes as his powerful voice filled her ears. “Fleur, young survivor of Sueño, though I expect you not to accept it, I offer to you my humblest apologies for the barbarity of the foolish drake, Reddux. If I could assist you in any way to make reparations for that terrible calamity, I would grant it eagerly. I am truly sorry.”
Fleur stared at him, mind blank with what she was seeing. Her legs were itching to move, to send her fleeing from the sight of the terrible beast, but she knew better than to try. “Y-you cannot be forg-given for what I have seen.”
“Understandable.” Parjin raised his head, but kept his body flat on the ground. He eyed her with what was probably meant to pass as a sorrowful frown, but all she could see was those terrible fangs. “Yet I must ask; if you fear my kind so much, why are the two of you walking into our lands?”
Fine stepped forward, his voice firm. “We have come to learn why the dragons have attacked Equestria. We hope that in knowing the cause of your anger, we might go about setting things right between our races.”
Parjin’s head rotated to study Fine with a lone eye. He lowered down to peer at the stallion up close. Fine only stood tall, a fact that had Fleur gaping.
“Your manner intrigues me,” the dragon said, his voice quiet. “Are you not afraid?”
Fine sniffed, his eyes hard. “I am aware that you could kill me with but a claw, yet I think you’d have done so already if you intended to. Besides—” his head lowered and his ears folded, “—I have seen things far larger and more menacing than you.”
“Fascinating.” Parjin’s head rose once more, yet still he would not rise from the ground. “Perhaps your arrival is the will of The Voice.”
Fine glanced at Fleur with a raised eyebrow. “The Voice?”
“Ah, but I forget the fleeting memories of ponykind.” Parjin shook his head with a long sigh. “It has long fallen from the lore of your histories. I imagine only Celestia knows of it.”
Fine considered this for a few seconds, rubbing his chin in careful thought. After a while he stepped back and dropped to his barrel beside Fleur, who continued to watch Parjin closely. She let out a small gasp as he pressed against her. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t think we’re going anywhere for a little while,” he responded, “and you look like you could use the support.” He turned his head back to the dragon. “Parjin the Elder, if you would honor us with a brief explanation, it would be most appreciated. I know of your reputation and age, and would be pleased to add the lore of ancient times to my knowledge.”
“Hmm…” Parjin’s hum was like a deep thrumming, and his scaled lips turned up in a smile that sent a shiver down Fleur’s spine. “You strike me as one who seeks strength through knowledge. This I appreciate and respect. Though our time is brief, I shall indulge your request. Perhaps someday I might provide you with the story at its full length, so that you may truly understand the importance of your kind.”
Fleur leaned close to whisper in Fine’s ear. “Do we have to do this?”
He shot her a scowl. “If I can go eleven years afraid of the deep sea, you can go thirty minutes afraid of a dragon. Go hide in the crags if it’s that bad.”
She whimpered and glanced to the south, where the Deadland Spikes loomed invitingly. Still, to get to them would require crossing hundreds of feet in open, unprotected terrain. Shivering, she pressed a little closer to him and closed her eyes, praying that this would all be over soon.
“I can see your young friend is uncomfortable,” Parjin said. “It is not in my nature to be hasty, but I shall do my best.”
Long before the age of my father, there was no world, no air, no light. Everything was pure darkness. Out of this darkness came… sentience. There was a being, and this being had no recollection of how it came to be, or how long it had been. Over time, the being came to know its own abilities and, through experimentation and curiosity, began to create.
Its first creations were, by our comprehension, simple things: rocks, air, water, soil, all floating about in the dark. The being was fascinated by creation, and wanted to explore different methods; it began seeking ways to combine these things. So did soil and rock combine to form something bigger and more complex. The being conceived of an intricate system; it created the heat within the soil, devising volcanoes, and water that flowed, culminating in rivers and the oceans. The being devised light by accident, and was so curious it created a massive ball of it that we now call the sun.
As the world grew, so too did the being’s appetite for more and more intricate creations. It learned how to create life by making the tiniest of things work together. Slowly, over endless time, it manipulated this new life, molding it into ever more intricate and curious life forms. There came fish, and plants, and birds, and ponies, and dragons.
The being was patient with its creations, but as time passed, it gradually came to realize a strange new sensation: loneliness. What purpose could all these creations have if they could not be appreciated and shared? So the being sought to create a sentient lifeform. It bred many different creatures over the millennia, constantly seeking the right combination of traits that would lead to a self-aware creature.
By luck or fate, the very first creature that came to understand itself, to learn and think and create… was a pony. In its excitement, the being focused on the ponies, until at last there was one so intelligent that it could learn to communicate with the being. Together they discovered speech, and upon this proof of her intellect, the being gave her a name: One.
One became the being’s friend, and taught the other ponies to speak and learn and create. Since the being had no name or physical form for itself, the ponies simply took to calling it The Voice.
The Voice never demanded worship, which it frowned upon, and it had few demands for the ponies. It asked only that life be cherished, though not at the expense of one’s own, and that tolerance and harmony be practiced. The Voice had created a beautiful, intricate system of life and death that it would see preserved in all its glory even as it continued to seek new forms for it. Because The Voice devoted so much time to the ponies’ development, they were and are the most in tune with its intentions.
The Voice went on to create other sentience; dragons, merponies, caribou, and so on, but The Voice had centered its efforts in but one small part of the world. Curious to know about the rest of the world and how it had grown without influence, The Voice departed for the unknown lands.
On the other side of our world, it found The Blight.
The Blight was another Great Being, its manner of existence similar to The Voice. It had found this world as it was being created and, being curious like The Voice, attempted to create for itself. But where The Voice was patient and spent many thousands of years carefully crafting its creations, The Blight worked recklessly and forcefully. It took the creatures already present in the world and used them to form new ones: griffons, manticore, hydra, and so on. When a creation failed to satisfy The Blight’s desires, it would see that creature destroyed, sometimes in cruel ways, for The Blight enjoyed tormenting the creatures it created.
When reason failed, The Voice returned to its home and instructed its creations to never venture to The Blight’s lands. So long as The Blight remained in its region of the world, there would be no conflict.
Yet the creatures of The Voice were curious, a trait it had encouraged. They explored and settled new lands, ever spreading their influence. Though most obeyed The Voice’s will, there were inevitably those whose curiosity overwhelmed them. There were many incidents, and the occasional conflict, but The Voice always managed to avoid direct warfare.
Until The Blight committed the Great Sin. A herd of ponies traveled unwittingly into the lands of The Blight, who took them and began to experiment with them. It bastardized their purpose, destroyed their minds and turned them into something unnatural. These poor souls were the very first of a race long reviled by your kin: The Changelings.
Some of the Changelings escaped The Blight’s lands and returned home. That The Blight would take The Voice’s favored creation and break them into such a pitiful form for the sake of amusement offended and horrified The Voice. The time for peace was over.
To combat The Blight and its fearsome creations, The Voice granted the ponies new gifts: wings to the pegasi, to act as scouts and stand against such threats as the mighty griffons; great strength to the Earth ponies, so that they might match The Blights hardiest minions such as the minotaur; and horns with just a touch of The Voice’s own power for unicorns, to give the races as a whole a great edge in the fighting to come.
The Voice then took its most loyal and dependable friends among the ponies and made them the first alicorns, to act as the leaders of the conflict. In response, The Blight created that most destructive and unpredictable of all races: the draconequus.
The war lasted two thousand years. I was born in the last millennium of the conflict, and had the great fortune of being mentored by The Voice itself. I regret that I could not convince it to turn back in the final days, when The Voice went to merge itself with the Blight in a perfect cacophony of opposing forces that destroyed them both. Yet I continue to teach the hatchlings in the way of The Voice, which has guided us for all these long centuries.
Fleur released the air she’d not known she’d been holding, her hers perked and her body leaning forward. As Parjin grew silent, she abruptly stood. “But wait, you completely glossed over the war!”
“Well,” Fine said with a smirk, “somepony lost her fear.”
She glanced from Parjin to Fine and back. Her cheeks grew hot. “He’s a… very good storyteller, that’s all.”
Parjin grinned, and for once his fangs only made her cringe a little. “I am pleased to hear it. I wish Reddux had been so apt to listen as you; perhaps then he would not have taken such a sad path.”
Fine peered at Parjin. “This Reddux, he’s the one who attacked the castle. Who is he?”
“A bitter hatchling of a drake.” Parjin shook his head with a rumbling sigh. “He does not understand the value of the ponies. He sees things only in terms of strength, and in his feeble mind this makes dragons the masters of the world. He feels ponies have robbed dragons of their birthright.”
“And I’m guessing he’ll stop at nothing to claim that birthright,” Fine said, gazing at his hooves with brow furrowed.
“I fear there is more truth to that statement than you can imagine.”
Fleur’s ears folded as thoughts of Sueño flooded her brain. “What do you mean?”
Another rumbling hum from Parjin. He sat up and scratched at a scar on his chest. “I cannot say with certainty. It is only speculation, and I would not lead you down unclear paths.”
“This is the dragon that slaughtered an entire island of ponies.” Fleur shivered and closed her eyes. “I would prefer not to think of potentially worse things he could do.”
“Elderwyrm.” Fine stood, the simple motion luring the dragon’s attention. “Forgive my haste, but my world is in danger and I need answers. Tell me, does Reddux have any chance of getting the hoards on his side in this conflict?”
“I forgive your need,” Parjin replied solemnly. “It is possible, but unlikely. Dragons tend to have great inertia and little desire for change. There would be no benefit to conquering Equestria, and such an act would stand against the principles of The Voice, which has been our cultural guide since the beginning of our existence. The hoards will remain in their current state unless acted upon by a great need, and Reddux can supply no such need.”
Fine nodded, though his expression didn’t soften. “So all we have to do is defeat three dragons and the war will end?”
“Easier said than done,” Fleur noted.
Parjin delivered another of his thrumming hums, a lone talon scratching at his throat as he considered them. “While the dragons as a whole will resist action, Reddux himself is already in motion, and he has more inertia than most. He has one claim which may sway some dragons: he has told the hoards that the ponies are stealing and crushing our eggs.”
“What?” Fleur stepped forward, mouth agape. “Why would we do something like that? What possible benefit is there to killing unborn dragons?”
Fine’s voice was subdued. “Alchemy, perhaps? I have heard dragon eggshells have potent magical application.”
“No.” Parjin shook his head. “Reddux showed us a shattered egg and the dead pony he claimed did the deed. However, such ‘evidence’ could easily have been planted, by Reddux or some other. I do not believe it is the ponies who are stealing our eggs.”
Fine thought on this with eyes on the ground for a few seconds before finally speaking up. “Elderwyrm… if it were found that ponies were stealing and crushing eggs, would that warrant a declaration of war?”
A deep sigh sent dust flying about the ponies before Parjin spoke. “Understand, little ones: it is exceedingly rare for a dragon female to bear more than a single egg in her lifetime. New life is the dragons’ most precious commodity, and we protect our unborn hatchlings more than we protect our hoards. The destruction of our eggs most certainly warrants a response.”
Fleur shot an alarmed look Fine’s way, but he maintained his solemn gaze. “Then it is my duty to find proof that we are not responsible. I thank you, Parjin the Elder, for giving me some direction.”
“Hmm…” Parjin glanced from Fine to Fleur and back, his eyes peering. “I would ask if you would understand the dangers of what you suggest, but I suspect your coming to the home of the ‘enemy’ is enough evidence of your courage. Especially for you, little Fleur.”
Fine’s lips pursed and he straightened just a little. “I have a duty to protect Equestria. Since the day I chose my profession, I have been prepared to die if necessary to perform that duty. I will face whatever dangers I must.”
Fleur stared at him, only to realize that Parjin’s eyes were on her. She fidgeted and glanced around, her stomach churning, but at last looked to the great creature before her. “If Equestria falls, so do I. I am with Fine.”
Parjin considered them with quiet contemplation, absent-mindedly scratching at one of the scars on the side of his neck. After a few moments, he reached down to push a single talon into the ground and scratched a long line into the earth. He finished the motion by pointing in the direction the line did.
“Go. There you will find Crater Lake, the sight of the Great Calamity of the Skies. Reddux, Tialvis and Eruk have made the lake their meeting grounds. I have watched them from afar, and I believe they have hidden something in the caves beneath. You may find your evidence there, but beware: I fear there are more than dragons within the dark.”
Fleur eyed the line, then the vast emptiness of the south. “Couldn’t you just fly us there?” Fine slapped the back of her head; not enough to hurt, but more than enough to catch her attention. “Hey! What was that for?”
“Parjin has already given us much,” Fine scolded. “Do not press our luck.”
“It is quite alright,” Parjin said with a smile that was oddly warm despite its fangs. “No, young one, I cannot take you. Tialvis, who resides within the caves, is watching for me, and will not let me near the lake. Were I to deliver you, your enemy would know it and you would die. Take heart; the journey is only a day’s march for a pony.”
Fine bowed before the dragon, prompting Fleur to quickly do the same. “I thank you, Elderwyrm. You may have given us the information we need to end the fighting quickly.”
“I pray to The Voice that it will be so.” Parjin’s wings unfurled and he rose into the sky. “Good luck, my friends. I will be watching from a distance. May Celestia’s luck be upon you.”
Fleur watched him go with a frown. “Celestia’s luck? Is Celestia associated with good luck?”
“Maybe to the dragons. Makes perfect sense, really.” Fine glanced at her. “Glad to see you were able to get over your fear.”
She blushed as the memory of her terror came back to her. “Well, he was nice. And he really is a good storyteller.” She bowed her head and kicked at the dirt. “Papa was a good storyteller.”
Chewing his lip, Fine looked to the south, then back to her. “Fleur… are you sure you want to come with me? Parjin said a ‘Tialvis’ was guarding the lake, and it’s almost a certainty Tialvis is one of those who attacked Sueño. You don’t have to face this if you don’t want to.”
For just a fraction of time, Fleur entertained the possibility, but then she shook her head. “No, I will come. What else am I going to do, where am I going to go? I’m sticking with you, Fine. At least I’ll feel like I’m doing something.”
He studied her, concern in his eyes. “Alright, then, let’s go. We’ll want to make some distance. Better to set up camp nearby than get there exhausted.”
She followed him, her eye going to the long mark in the ground. The trench was wide enough that she could have walked in it if she kept her legs close together, and deep enough to reach up to her knees. Even so, she realized that Parjin wasn’t anywhere near the size that the red dragon – presumably Reddux – had been. The thought made her shiver.
“I’m an assassin.”
She blinked and looked to fine. He didn’t look back. She hurried to catch up. “What was that?”
“My job,” he replied, expression neutral. “I’m an assassin. I figure you’re ready to know.”
Having her suspicions confirmed only added to Fleur’s confusion. “But why? What did I do to earn that trust?”
“We’re about to sneak into a dragon’s lair, with Celestia knows what else inside. It’s possible neither of us will survive.” He glanced at her, expression ever solemn. “That you’re willing to do this with me, for whatever reason and despite what you’ve already been through, warrants respect. You deserve to at least know the kind of pony you’re working with.”
She absorbed this reply, head low and eyes on her hooves. She had his respect. She wasn’t sure anypony had ever respected her before. It was an entirely new sensation... and she rather liked it.
She raised her head high and smiled at the concept. “I won’t let you down, Fine.”
He gave her a small smile. “Of that I have no doubt.”
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Boy, I doubt it'll be as easy as Parjin seems to be implying it will be. But that's where the fun comes in! I am also really digging the Celestia subplot you've started here and am eagerly looking forward to how that plays out.
One thing:
Did you mean millennium? As in a single period of 1000 years? Also ctrl+f talent to see where it should be talon.
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I've been providing little hints throughout the story that something was coming in regards to Celestia. I'm glad to see they were sparse and/or hidden well enough to not have completely given away this little extra step.
I don't mean to sound unappreciative, but please, place corrections in a PM to me. I don't care to have my stupidity on display to the world long after the mistake is fixed.
Only issue is you keep calling the dragons Hoards, as in treasure. Wouldn't Horde be better?
5474969
No, because in this AU the dragons refer to the hoard as if it were their home. Recalling that dragons are inherently greedy, I thought it would suit their culture if the hoard was viewed as the central and identifying element of their households (err, caveholds?). There aren't a lot of dragons, maybe only a few hundred. The hoard is the main element of each family, and they don't view themselves as a nation so much as a community. Thus, instead of referring to themselves as the 'dragon nation' or anything like that, they refer to their homes collectively: 'the Hoards.'
That makes sense. Just seemed very odd when reading it.
Well I certainly didn't see the whole "missing princess" subplot coming. That threw me for a loop.
5482463
You didn't think I was just going to say 'and Celestia slept in her chambers' for this entire story, did you?
5483512
Considering your feelings for her, yes. Yes I did.
5484237
As frequently as I charge her with incompetence, I actually have a strong respect for her. Besides, she stood up to Reddux, didn't she? I can hardly blame her for being forced into a recuperative sleep, nor for anything that might happen to her during said sleep.
Well, I suppose you could argue that her manner of rule allowed her disappearance to occur through lax security requirements, but seriously, that's just nitpicking.
Our friend Daring Deed is my best suspect for who took the princess.
Also, I read the Elderwyrm with the voice of Paarthurnax.
I liked Parjin's history lesson. Short, but to the point.
-Sanity is overrated
Parjin is a cool dragon, and a good story teller. I would enjoy a story going more in depth about the creation and history of Equestria.
Fleur needs to be more elaborate if she is going to get that notebook!
*snort* Yeah, no shit. Tbf, there's no way he could have known this before.
But I know.
Hey, this sounds familiar... yes. This entire section is just like—
We are not so different, you and I.
First major boss fight, incoming!
The Voice thing sure sounds like quite an original idea.