The Six Hour War, part II
In the dream, all was fire.
He stood alone upon a mountain of ash that had once been the world and the bones of every living thing in it. Life crumbled and turned to dust under his claws and there was nothing else but flame, screams, thunder, and panic. And he atop it all. Ruler of a realm utterly destroyed; all life and beauty exterminated.
And then, in the distance, the question he feared most. The one he could not answer.
Why?
The question seemed to persist; to pull at him, and he found himself dragged from the dream towards the light.
He woke, to the ringing of the question still in his ears. He woke to find himself bound by shackles of magic and light. He woke to see the Horse-Witch herself standing over him, looking down upon him with vengeful fury from the top of the ridge! He woke to the roar of thunder, the flashes of lightning, the howling of wind, and the yells of panic from dozens of dragons as he saw their shadowy figures take flight over the hills back into the south.
He woke, and knew defeat.
He woke, and knew relief.
It was already over.
He did not even try to resist the bonds that held him. He simply looked up at the pony on the ridge, and waited for the end.
“Why?” she repeated, her voice now cold and seething. “Why do you bring war to us? What have my subjects done to you, that makes you wish to inflict pain, anguish and suffering on them?! Why have you amassed so much hatred for my ponies, when we want only tolerance, peace and love! Why?!” she screamed again, her eyes seeming to glow with rage.
Ragnarok laughed. It was bizarre. He was trapped, at the mercy of a righteous enemy who was about to end his life, and yet found that all he could do was laugh. The relief washing over him seemed to invoke a kind of mild hysteria. He laughed, to the obvious consternation of his executioner, which only made him laugh harder for what seemed like endless moments.
His laughter ran its course while the Horse-Witch looked down on him with mixed anger and disgust. And still the end did not come. She was actually waiting for his answer before she sent him to his fate!
And what did it matter? What harm could the truth do? Wound his pride? Hah! If she wanted to know, she had earned it, though he was certain she would find it underwhelming, and that thought gave him a tiny smirk.
“Such arrogance. To assume it is all about you,” he said with a sneer. Then he gave a smug chuckle. “You believe I am here out of hatred? That I have taken against your kind, perhaps because of some arbitrary quality that instills in me some loathing or contempt or scorn? And that this drives me to seek your annihilation? No,” he said with a grin and a subtle head-shake. “This has nothing to do with you at all! I am here because my subjects expect me to deliver them riches and glory; because it is my duty to appease them and pander to their mindless avarice; and because your lands were an inviting prospect which I believed could be seized with little effort or bloodshed. And, when I realised it could not, I was too proud to renege on my promises, and too weak to tell my people, ‘no.’”
The white pony looked down her muzzle at him, and there was only contempt in her eyes. “So instead you approach my border with an army? You make plans to attack my city? To hurt my ponies who have done nothing to deserve this?! And you justify this by claiming it is your ‘duty’?! Because you would prefer a war than having to swallow your arrogant pride?!” she spat.
Ragnarok felt himself recoil slightly. Then his teeth clenched and his deep scowl returned with an anger of its own. “I would ‘prefer’ nothing of the sort! I don’t claim war is justified. I don’t claim to want this! But what I want is secondary to what my subjects demand! Your people may have done nothing to deserve this, but ‘deserve’ is a foreign concept to those motivated by greed. I am simply the instrument bound to satisfy their hunger. Fortunately, it has brought me to ruin before I could do any damage,” he finished with a faint snort.
Then, he cracked a slim, wicked grin. “And as for my pride? Hah!” he barked. “I will be forever remembered as the one-year King, blinded by greed and ambition, who led an army into war on a wave of hubris, to the most humiliating defeat that dragons have ever known, and who met his end shamed and disgraced at the hooves of a magic pony.” His smile vanished and he scowled once more. “But I would rather be that, than an abomination who murdered thousands and turned the world to ash for no reason other than because his people wanted more shiny things!” he said with a snarl as his gaze bored into the Horse-Witch above him. Then he relaxed, resigned to what came next. “I should thank you for that. Now end this, Horse-Witch. I have given you your answer.”
Before she could respond though, their conversation was interrupted by one of the smaller flying horses in golden armour alighting atop the ridge at her side. He took a double-take when he saw Ragnarok, but recovered quickly and addressed the taller pony. “Princess Celestia,” he said. “We have driven every dragon out of the valley – except this one it seems – and they have fled southwards toward the desert.”
“How many casualties have we suffered?”
“None to speak of, your highness. Slight burns and scratches, for the most part. No-one is seriously hurt.”
“Good. Thank you Stormrunner,” replied his captor – Celestia apparently. Then – and it was subtle indeed – he saw her sigh in relief. “Clear the weather. Then recall our forces and have them marshall at the lake.”
“Princess? You’re not coming?” he asked.
“Our negotiations are ongoing,” Celestia replied, looking once more at him lying at the base of the ridge. It was most odd, he found himself thinking. All of her anger, her spite, her anguish – it just seemed to have evaporated the instant that other pony had appeared, replaced by an air of calm.
Ah... evaporated? Or repressed?
The one she called Stormrunner took wing and departed, and Celestia once more looked down at him. Except now her countenance was calmer, more considered, and she scrutinised him as though he were a dangerous curio.
He gave her a toothy grin. “You wear it well, Princess, that cloak of serenity. Had I not already seen beneath it I would not have guessed it was a disguise at all. I don’t know whether to congratulate you on its craftsmanship, or console you for the reason you wear it in the first place. Now,” he said, his grin once more becoming a scowl. “Are you going to delay this much longer?”
For a moment she simply looked at him, continuing her scrutiny. Then, at length, she seemed to come to a decision, and her hard stare softened some. “What is your name, Sire?” she asked.
He growled again, but grudgingly acquiesced. If she wanted his name for her list of conquests, she could have it. “Ragnarok. When you mount my head, do be sure to spell it correctly.”
“Lord Ragnarok... can we end this? Here, between us?”
He growled at her impatiently. “This will end when you do your duty, as I would in your place! Must I spell it out?! If you release me, I am a vengeful threat to your people. If you kill me, I am a warning to all dragons of the folly of war with your kind. There is only one choice you can make, Princess Celestia, so make it and put an end to this farce!”
“So I must kill you then? There is no other way? If I released you, you would, without any doubt, return with another army to wage war. Is that what you are telling me?” she asked, fixing his gaze with a hint of skepticism.
Ragnarok gritted his teeth. “That is what you must assume, Princess! Nothing I say should be given any credence. Not when the fate of your entire kingdom rests on it!” He was being evasive, but he was determined he would not go to the grave a liar on top of everything else.
Nothing was said for long moments. Ragnarok fixed a glower on Celestia, who simply gazed back at him, calmly and patiently searching his eyes. Then, from the top of the ridge, he saw her take a deep breath in and let it out, her face softened further, and she finally spoke again. “You would have me believe that I have no other choice but to kill you... but that isn’t true. In Equestria we don’t settle arguments by hurting others. There are other ways. Not easier ones... but better ones.” She looked him in the eye. “We could try forgiveness and trust instead.”
There was the briefest of surprised pauses. Then, remembering himself, Ragnarok snorted in derision. “You would be a fool to trust me. I offer you no guarantees. You have no assurances, no securities. If you release me there is no compulsion for me to honour any terms you set. I might make you a thousand promises if I believed I might save my own scales, and be bound by none of them! You have no reason to believe anything I say.”
“That is why it is trust. I don’t want terms or promises. I am not asking for your surrender, I am asking for your help,” she said. “You are right. I have no reason to believe you... and you have no reason to believe me. Except...” She never once broke his gaze. “Lord Ragnarok... there doesn’t need to be a war between us. I do not want one. I do not believe you want one either. Can we not start there?”
–––
“We are regrouping at the lake,” called Stormrunner to the assembled throng of pegasi and chariots. “Everypony form up and move out.”
“Where’s the Princess?” asked Sky nervously, flapping at his side. “Is she okay?”
“She is fine,” said Stormrunner. “She will join us soon.”
“But where is she?”
“She is down there,” Stormrunner said, pointing with a hoof. “Talking to that leader-dragon you saw. She will be fine. Now come on, she has ordered us back,” he said, putting on a turn of speed and making for the head of the triple-file column of pegasi-drawn chariots that was even now beginning to vacate the valley over the northern peaks.
But Sky did not keep up. She tarried and slipped behind, unable to take her eyes off the Princess – her golden armor and the aura of her horn just barely visible on the far side of the darkened valley. And she was down there with that huge dragon. On her own? What if something happened? What if he tricked her, or hurt her? It would be Sky’s fault wouldn’t it? For bringing the Princess here. For getting her hurt. She glanced ahead, but Captain Stormrunner was too busy ordering the ranks of chariots as they flew by, and she quietly fell to the rear of the line as it passed.
When they were gone she turned and made for the ridge. She wasn’t going to leave the Princess behind on her own with a horrible dragon.
–––
When Valkyr came to his senses again, he had already been hoisted from the valley by two other dragons, carried at least two miles to the south, and sat on the ground where the remainder of the forces appeared to be congregating. Here, the grass of the green plains was gradually giving way to scrubland, where it would eventually lose the battle of life and become dry, cracked soil and eventually, desert further south.
Valkyr shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He looked around himself to find the entire regiment of dragons from the valley looking various shades of bewildered and aghast. None appeared too badly hurt. A few ice-burns here and there, and a couple of scorch-marks from where lightning had struck scale, but all in all, everyone appeared...
Wait... everyone?
“You there!” he called to the least-shocked dragon he could see. “Where is Ragnarok?!”
“I don’t know. When the fog came down... I– I couldn’t see a thing.”
"He's not here?!"
The other dragon shook his head.
“Fools! Idiots! You turn tail and run and leave our king behind?!” he cried. He looked left and right and was met with a distinct lack of enthusiasm from the still shell-shocked contingent. He gave a loud, frustrated roar and, beating his wings took to the air, heading as quickly as he could for the valley.
He covered the ground swiftly, climbing over the hills and seeing that the weather had improved as quickly as it had deteriorated. The moon had even forced its way clear of that stubborn cloud, and as he crested the southern peak, he just about made out Ragnarok, lying at the base of the ridge, entrapped in some kind of magical, glowing bonds. And on the top of the ridge, a white pony clad in gold armor, stood over him triumphantly.
And then... flying towards the ridge from his left to his right across the valley, a lone, smaller blue pony. The remainder of the enemy seemed to have vacated and left these stragglers behind.
Seeing his chance, he beat his wings hard and arrowed for the pony in flight. He closed the distance in moments, approaching it from slightly behind. By the time the oblivious equine realised he was there it was too late for her. He reached out with a huge claw and seized her mid-flight, grasping her securely. She let out a frightened cry and struggled pathetically against his grip, but he paid her no heed as he headed for the ridge, and the pony holding his king prisoner.
–––
“Can we not start there?” asked Celestia.
It was a risk, to be sure, but their conversation had not proceeded as she had expected. She had expected anger, and indignation and an arrogant attempt to justify his planned slaughter. And instead she had what she felt was something akin to a confession.
He was a new king, trying his best and making all the wrong decisions for what he thought were the right reasons. He wasn’t a monster, just unprepared for the pressure and responsibility that came with power. Not evil, just hopelessly misguided. And he was even starting to see that himself. There was no reason this had to end in war or execution, if they could just trust each other a little.
Ragnarok looked as though he were about to reply. And then suddenly, their conversation was interrupted.
Another dragon, silver in scale, landed heavily on the opposite side of the ridge and drew himself up to his full height. He towered over Celestia, putting her between him and the still-bound Ragnarok at the base of the far side of the earthen mound. And as he did so, Celestia clearly saw, grasped tightly in his large right claw...
“Sky!” Her blood ran cold.
The new dragon snarled and then gave a low, smug growl. He met Celestia’s gaze with cold fury. “Release our King at once, pony. Or I shall crush the life from this one.”
“Sky! Are you alright?”
“Princess! I’m sorr– Hnggh! Ngh!” Sky trailed into pained groans as the silver dragon’s grip grew noticeably tighter.
“Stop it! Release her!” shouted Celestia, in what she hoped was a commanding tone. Though, she didn’t feel very commanding at the moment. Her composure was fragile and she felt panic begin to creep. Had Ragnarok been stalling for time? Was that his intention – to distract her while his reinforcements gathered?
She could not rescue Sky without first releasing the spell which bound Ragnarok. And if she did, she and Sky would be trapped between two angry dragons. Sky could be injured, and escape was far from certain. But even if they did survive... she hadn’t yet averted a war. She needed more time!
“What is your answer, pony?” snarled the silver dragon. “Are you going to free Lord Ragnarok, or do I have to kill this one first?”
And then, from behind her, came Ragnarok’s voice. Calm and patient, in a way he had not been so far.
“Celestia. Release me.”
She turned to him, and found him looking up at her with an urgent sincerity that had not been there a moment earlier.
Sincere or not, it was her only realistic course of action. She needed her horn unoccupied to try and save Sky and, turning back to the silver dragon, she allowed the binding spell to release and her aura extinguished. As soon as it happened, she planted her hooves and made ready to cast a lance of magic at the back of the silver dragon’s claw, hoping to trigger a reflex action that would cause it to drop Sky if he refused to let her go. The rest she would have to improvise.
Behind her, Ragnarok slowly rose to his haunches and drew himself up; one dragon on either side of the ridge, both looming over her. But Ragnarok seemed only interested in his counterpart.
“Valkyr. Tell me of our casualties.”
“There is nothing significant to report, Ragnarok. No-one is too badly injured, though a few cannot yet fly. We have sustained no fatalities.”
“Good. And how many losses have we inflicted in reply?” He already knew the answer to this question of course, though he gave nothing away.
Valkyr, for his part, became visibly nervous, and began to fidget just a little. “Uh... it’s difficult to be certain, but we believe... none.” He braced himself for what he clearly believed would be a furious response.
“Oh,” said Ragnarok simply. Then he fixed his gaze on Sky. “I see you have taken a prisoner though. For what purpose?”
“I... I intended to secure your release from the enemy.”
“And now I am free, yet you are still clutching it.” Ragnarok raised an eyebrow at his counterpart. “Do you have something else in mind?”
Judging from his reaction, Valkyr was obviously in surprise at how much he was having to spell this out. “We can use it to leverage victory. To demand that their leader surrenders – as you planned – and then conquer their lands.”
“Ah. I see,” said Ragnarok, as though finally caught up. “Well, I am the king. I think I’d better see to that.” He held his claw out, open.
Valkyr held his own claw out and dropped Sky into Ragnarok’s palm, his confused expression never quite vanishing. Sky landed with a frightened oof, sat up, dazed, and then became very still, a terrified expression on her face and her right wing drooping as though it were sprained or worse. If she couldn’t fly, escape for her was going to be almost impossible... and Celestia wouldn’t leave her behind.
Ragnarok didn’t close his claw, just allowed her to sit there, mute and afraid, but at least in no discomfort. Then he turned to Celestia and put on an authoritative, arrogant tone. “Princess Celestia! If you do not surrender immediately, and allow my army to lay waste to your cities and destroy your entire people, I will end the life of this one, single pony! What do you say?”
Sky began to cry in silent fear even as Celestia tried to beseech Ragnarok. “Please, you do not need to–”
“Will you surrender or not?” shouted Ragnarok.
“I... I cannot,” she said, even as a strange wave of calm fell. She had failed. She had failed in her first duty; to protect all of her ponies. “Sky, I am so sorry. I cannot surrender the lives of every pony in Equestria in exchange for one.”
“It’s okay, Princess, I know. My fault anyway, right?” came Sky’s voice from above her, resigned and soft. She closed her eyes and sniffed, tears falling freely.
But Ragnarok simply looked back to Valkyr. “Hmm. Well, that didn’t work. Now what do you suggest?”
Valkyr’s surprised expression seemed to be a permanent fixture at the moment. “Ragnarok, are you feeling okay?”
“I am fine, Valkyr, though I seem to be in a bit of a pickle, don’t I, thanks to you. After all, I’m still holding this pony, which I’m certainly not going to do forever. So it seems I can either let it go, or I can carry my threat through. Well, this was your idea. What should I do?”
“Ragnarok... if you let it go, it will show that your threats can be safely ignored without consequence. You will lose all credibility in the eyes of our enemy.”
“So I should carry my threat out then? I should kill this pony?”
“I... well, it is the only other option. So, yes.”
“Ah.” Then, at last, Ragnarok’s expression changed, becoming a deep glower and an angry rictus, and when he spoke, his voice was a low, seething snarl. “And what, Valkyr, do you suppose happens then?”
“I... don’t understand...”
Ragnarok growled in frustration. “Celestia! I have just killed your pony here...” he brought Sky to his eyeline – “I am afraid you are dead. Please behave as such” – and then turned back to the Princess. “Now are you going to surrender?”
“I cannot,” said Celestia, her composure gone now and tears coming to her eyes. “Lord Ragnarok, please–!”
“What if I kill another? And another after that? Will you surrender then? No?” But he was looking at Valkyr now, meeting his gaze with a steely, cold stare. “Do you not see Valkyr?” he growled. “No casualties. None! On either side. Do you think this an accident? Do you believe we have been lucky? That we have escaped here today due to some fortunate twist of fate or fluke? No, we have been spared!
“I have vastly underestimated our foes. We have escaped serious injury for no reason other than their Princess did not wish it, and now you bring me this pony claiming it is the key to victory, and in doing so set this whole evening upon the edge of a knife! If I kill this one, a line will be crossed. They will hate us. They will attack us with vengeance and fury and we will suffer. And we will hate them. And we will attack, and they will suffer! And it will not end! This is not victory! You would have me trade a defeat which costs us nothing for one which would cost everything! NO!” he roared.
“Ragnarok–”
“You will address me as My Lord, Valkyr!” Ragnarok boomed. Then his eyes narrowed and his voice hissed with anger. “And you will listen to me very closely. Their forces are regrouping at a lake to the north. You are going to take this pony – Sky, is it? – and you are going to deliver her to them. Safely. Unharmed. In as humble a manner as your ungainly frame can manage. And if they see fit to let you leave without a spear through your throat, then we will call that a truce and you will rejoin our forces and lead them home. I will not begin taking lives and risk full-scale war to preserve my precious 'credibility!'”
“My Lord, I–”
“Do as I say, Valkyr! And if they ask what has become of their Princess, tell them that she is safe, and that... our negotiations are ongoing.”
Valkyr, still shocked, bowed in humility. Then Ragnarok handed Sky to him and he took her ever so gently, as though she were made of paper. With no further words, Valkyr unfurled his wings, took skyward and climbed for the northern hills, passing over them and out of sight.
Ragnarok looked down, to see Celestia’s face awash with worry. “Do not be concerned, Celestia. I assure you, she will be safe. Valkyr’s father was our former King: he is well versed in the need to obey orders.” Ragnarok sighed, then he brought his forelegs to the ground and lay on his belly at the base of the ridge while keeping his neck raised. It brought him more or less to Celestia’s eyeline as she stood on the ridge-top. “His father was like a father to me. And in spite of what you have just seen, Valkyr does not want to kill – though he is slightly more indifferent to it than I would like. He simply wishes to help make me a respected king; to help me avoid a humiliating defeat.” He chuckled. “But there was never any chance of that.”
Celestia looked at him, sincerity in her eyes. “Thank you, for what you did,” she said.
Ragnarok simply waved her gratitude away. “I was enjoying our conversation too much to tolerate interruption,” he said. “You said you believed I did not want a war with your kind. You were right.” He met her gaze again briefly, then sighed. “I have known Valkyr for longer than I have known any dragon. Yet even when I found my misgivings about this invasion growing too strong to ignore, I could not confide in him, or indeed anyone. I could not admit that I was troubled by the thought of harming a tribe of small frilly ponies. To do so would be to appear soft; to invite ridicule and scorn. I was not strong enough to deflect such accusations, so I remained silent. I acted as though all was well, to maintain the appearance of strong leadership.
“They are not bloodthirsty, Princess, nor cruel. But greed is a powerful impulse. It blinds and it consumes. It makes bad decisions sound tempting; it makes insurmountable challenges appear trifling; and at worst it cheapens life itself. And when one is surrounded by it at all times, one loses sight of reality. I am not immune. You have my gratitude, Celestia, for stopping me before I became a monster. It is just a shame I am here making an enemy of you.”
“We do not have to be enemies,” said Celestia. “I will not be an enemy to you, if you will say the same.”
“Hah! A little late for that Princess. Perhaps had I not set up camp at your border with an army. But then, we would not have met in the first place. No, ‘enemies’ will do just nicely,” he said with a sharp-toothed smirk.
“Very well, Lord Ragnarok. But perhaps in future–”
“Stop!” Ragnarok said suddenly, interrupting her with a hard, but confused stare. “Wait...”
Celestia looked at him in surprise. She was about to ask what was wrong when–
“You are wearing your cloak again. You garbed yourself in it so subtly I did not even notice.” He looked into her eyes one at a time, flicking between them as though searching for some answer hidden within. “You raise it like a shield,” he concluded. “I do not wish to speak to you. Where is the other Celestia? The impassioned one? The one who screams like a storm at a mighty dragon without fear, and who does not talk like a vacant automaton reading from a script? I would speak to her.”
“I’m not sure what you–”
But Ragnarok interrupted her again. “I said something...” he continued, as though working a problem through. “Something that made you raise your guard in response. What was it? Why do you choose to cover yourself in this... boring calm? Where did your cloak come from, Celestia?”
Celestia was silent for a moment, taken aback. Her composure was second nature to her by now. She hadn’t even noticed herself slipping back into it, and none of her subjects would ever have dared to question it. But Ragnarok was right. It had reformed in response to something he’d said, like a reflex action, and as she replayed the conversation in her head, she found it.
I could not confide in him, or indeed anyone...
I could not admit that I was troubled... so I remained silent...
I acted as though all was well, to maintain the appearance of strong leadership.
Celestia sat, as though the wind had been knocked out of her, and her composure fell away once more. She looked to the sky, to the moon, and drew a ragged breath. “I... I lost someone very close to me,” she whispered. “The only pony I could ever talk to. The only one who could cheer me up and make me laugh. Since then... I have only felt alone. My subjects... they grant me far too much reverence. They seem to believe I am perfect... infallible. They believe I am separate from them, and so I have become. I cannot talk to anyone, so I talk to no-one and I long for the days when I could.”
“So you cover yourself in a passionless facade? To hide the fact that you have doubts and fears as all do? Because you believe your people need to see you as something greater? Pah! Your people may as well worship a statue,” snorted Ragnarok without tact. “Whom did you lose? Someone you ‘loved,’ no doubt.”
“My sister.” She never took her eyes off the moon. “Luna. My little sister.” She drew another breath and beat back the tears. “I do love her. I miss her so much. I miss just talking to her. I miss seeing her laugh. I wish I could bring her home. It has been so long now...”
“She is alive then? But you do not know where she is?”
“No, I know exactly where she is,” said Celestia, the moon filling her vision now. “But I can’t reach her. It is a long and complicated story.”
There was a lengthy pause. Then, finally, “Tell it.”
Celestia at last broke her skyward gaze and turned to him instead, even as he continued. “I am in no hurry to return, shamed and humiliated to my people. Tell your story, Princess, I insist. Go on. ‘Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria...’” he prompted.
Celestia forced away a scowl at Ragnarok’s apparent sarcasm. She had never talked about it before. There had never been anyone to listen. But as she looked at Ragnarok, despite his tone, she believed she saw genuine interest in his eyes. Concern even?
Perhaps it was nothing of the sort, but... after all this time she desperately wanted to talk. To anyone. And... she might never get the chance again. She sighed and her gaze fell to the floor. “We were two regal sisters, who ruled together...”
–––
Ragnarok listened while Celestia told the story. She relayed the tale of her and her sister, once so close, living in their castle together in the Everfree. She told of Luna’s fall into jealousy, and the horrific transformation it caused. She recounted the battle that they had fought, and the terrible decision she had had to make. She told of the spell she had used to imprison her, alive and safe, in the moon itself in order to protect the rest of the world. And how she had been searching ever since for a way to bring her back; to bring back the sister she knew and loved and not the monster she had become.
And while he had remained completely silent, with each passing sentence Ragnarok’s expression had grown angrier and angrier, until by the end, it was thunder itself.
“An entertaining tale, Celestia,” he said, fuming with cold rage. “But all lies!”
She hadn’t quite been prepared for this reaction. For not being believed. “It is the truth,” was all she could say.
“LIES!” he shouted again. “You take me for a fool. I was barely fifty years old when the moon changed, but I remember what happened! I know what I saw, and it was not some pony being sent on a wave of magical energy.”
“What... did you see?”
“It was a comet. Streaking from the northern sky. It impacted the moon and shattered, causing the craters and shadows there now. The ones that look so like a horse’s head, but that is coincidence! Nothing more! Not a magical illusion! Not some, ‘Mare in the Moon’ as you say! And that was two centuries ago. Would you have me believe that you are over two hundred years old?! And even that is not the most preposterous part of your tale! I have seen your people command the weather tonight, yes, but commanding the sun and the moon themselves?! Inconceivable!” Ragnarok stood abruptly, lifting himself to all fours, his scowl and his grimace unmoved. “You speak of trust, and then you deliver this. You disappoint me. This has been an interesting evening, Celestia, but not one I care to repeat. Return to your lands. I go to mine. May our paths never cross again.” He spread his wings and made as though for flight.
He raised his head and prepared to leap into the air, and as he did so, he caught sight of the moon, three quarters full and waning, and interrupted his take-off, wings dipping. The moon. It was high overhead, exactly where it had been all night. Exactly. It had not moved. At all.
Pah! The night was playing tricks. He flared his wings again and once more prepared to take skyward. And once more interrupted himself when he caught sight of Celestia, sat with her back to him now, just looking up at the moon. Quietly. Silently. Alone. And got the impression this was in no way unusual for her.
He scowled. “Why would you lie?” he demanded. “At least tell me that before I bid you farewell forever! The truth would have been so much easier to relate than this elaborate fiction. What possessed you?” he asked.
She looked back at him now, a terrible sad and pained expression on her face. Then back to the moon. “It’s the truth,” she said again, her voice but a whisper.
“It can’t be true!” he said, though he was not sure if he was trying to convince himself now. “It is inconceivable! There was an eclipse. There was a comet. It struck the moon and altered its orbit. There were storms and quakes as a result and it was a week before it corrected itself and was seen again. I remember this!”
“And you remember what happened to the sun...”
“What... are you talking about?”
“It was daylight,” said Celestia softly, half lost to memory herself. “The moon rose. There was an eclipse. And then it was night, and you saw the shadow appear on the moon’s surface. And the sun was gone. In the middle of the day.”
Ragnarok’s jaw hung open, but he made no sound, and gave no reply. Celestia took a deep, hollow breath and continued. “For five nights afterwards I didn’t raise the moon. I couldn’t stand the thought of what I had done. I didn’t want to accept that Luna wasn’t around to do it herself. But then the storms came. I didn’t realise at first that they were my fault, but eventually I raised the moon. As I have for every night since. As I must for every night to come. And every time I do I look up and see my sister’s face... and it is so, so painful.”
There was such sorrow there. Such anguish. It was as though she were suffering a physical wound, kept secret beneath her serenity and which now bled freely for the first time in an age. Her composure wasn't a cloak, it was a bandage, and one that had never been changed.
Ragnarok furled his wings and settled once more at the base of the ridge, following Celestia's gaze into the sky. “Two hundred years?” he said.
Celestia nodded sadly. “There are none left alive in my kingdom who remember her. In two hundred years my sister has already passed from knowledge to history to legend. Soon she will be only a myth and beyond that... no-one will even know she existed at all. The only memory of her will lie within me. But she is my sister, and I will never forget her.”
Ragnarok was silent for a long moment, his gaze alternating between Celestia and the moon above. “I have never said these words before, Celestia. To anyone. But... I am sorry." He turned and looked to her once more. "I would offer you my help, but this is far beyond my ken.”
Celestia nodded subtly. Then she sniffed, drew breath, shook her head slightly. She stiffened a little even as her shield of composure threatened to raise again. She turned to him and prepared to bid him–
“Tell me of her.”
Celestia was visibly taken aback for a moment, her composure forgotten. “I have told you all there is to tell,” she said, confused.
“No,” said Ragnarok, shifting now and lying on his back, resting it against the slope of the ridge and propping his neck and head up. “Do not tell me of battles and magic and impossible celestial events. Tell me of your sister. Tell me of Luna.”
"I... cannot imagine you would be interested.”
"I am simply gathering intelligence in preparation for a possible future invasion,” said Ragnarok, twirling a claw dismissively. Then he glanced at her. “You have never spoken of this before, have you? If you continue to repress it as you have, you will become so good at it that in the end, all that will be left of you is your cloak, and a vacant expression. And that... would be such a waste,” he finished with a toothy smirk. “So tell. I wish to hear all about her. The things she did that drove you mad. The jokes she told that made you laugh. Everything.”
And for the first time that evening... she smiled. An actual smile. Celestia took a deep breath, looked at the floor and shook her head slightly, then back once more to the moon, with that happy smile still afixed. “She always loved to play games...”
–––
They talked. For hours and hours, they talked. Celestia told Ragnarok of Luna, which led to her telling him of their past, of Equestria, of Canterlot... of her whole life. And Ragnarok talked. Of his surrogate father the former king, of his early life, and then his surprising and horrifying rise to power, of not knowing how to handle such power, and the spiraling series of decisions he had made that had led him to this point and near-catastrophe... and he spoke of it bluntly, never offering an excuse to hide what he saw as his own incompetence.
They talked and confided and shared beneath the light of the moon. Two rulers, each without an outlet for their concerns and worries, finding solace in the last place either of them would have expected.
They talked of everything they could think of. Until finally, when almost everything had been said, their conversation was interrupted once again by the arrival of Valkyr, as he swooped in from the north and landed with a bow.
Ragnarok took note of his northerly approach and cocked a little grin. “Tell me, Valkyr... have you spent all this time consorting with our enemy? Do I need to try you for treason?”
Valkyr looked abashed – a far cry from his earlier display, as he looked quickly to Celestia and back again. “We have been talking. I am ashamed to say, that they were... more accomodating than I would have been in their place,” he said with a hint of guilt. “But they have sent me back with a message for their Princess. They are concerned that the day is late starting.” He shook his head subtly. “I do not know what they mean, except that the night does seem to have lasted unusually long, and there is yet no sign of sunrise.”
“Indeed?” said Ragnarok, with his own quick glance at Celestia. “I had not noticed.” Then he looked back at Valkyr. “Return to our troops and see them home, Valkyr. I will follow shortly.”
“My Lord... what do you wish me to tell them?”
“Dispense with the Title, Valkyr,” said Ragnarok dismissively. “I don’t care what you tell them as long as it is true, and I do not care what any of them will say.” He fixed Valkyr with a cool stare. “You know, yesterday, I believed it was my duty to satisfy the greed of my subjects. After tonight, it is clear to me that that is not the role of the King at all. It is my job to manage my subjects. To keep them happy while keeping them from running rampant, for the good of the world. Your father knew this very well. That is why he never ‘achieved’ anything! It would have saved a lot of time these past months if he had told me!” he laughed. “Go, Valkyr. Leave us. We will talk more later, but there is one more thing I must attend to here.”
Valkyr nodded. Then he unfurled his wings and took flight, heading south now and out of sight over the silhouetted peaks.
Ragnarok turned to Celestia. “The day is late?”
Celestia simply smiled at him, then turned her attention eastwards. “Would you like to watch the sunrise, Lord Ragnarok?” she said, pointing at a spot between two of the hills which ringed the valley. Then she lit her horn and a moment later, from the exact spot she had pointed to, a warm glow began to appear even as the moon overhead began to descend. The moon passed beneath the horizon quickly, and a moment later the yellow glow intensified and birthed the sun, the bright orb climbing into the morning sky, flooding the world with warmth and light, chasing the shadows of the night away.
Ragnarok looked on, astounded, mouth agape. “Inconceivable...” he whispered.
Celestia’s knowing smile increased a little. “You keep using that word,” she said. “I do not think it means what you think it means.”
“I know exactly what it means,” said Ragnarok, though his growl was absent now, replaced only with awe. “Yesterday, I knew the sun and the moon were heavenly bodies orbiting the earth according to physical laws. Today I find that instead they are commanded by a magic pony from a neighbouring land. As a concept... I find that impossible to believe, and yet I am looking at it...” he trailed off. Then, to himself, “That’s going to take some getting used to.” He shook his head slightly, then turned his gaze back to her. “It raises many, many questions, none of which I believe I would understand the answers to. So I will accept it, for now. Perhaps one day our paths will cross again and you will be kind enough to indulge my curiosity. But for now Celestia, unless you also wish to tell me that water is not wet and the sky is not blue, this is where we part ways.”
“Lord Ragnarok,” said Celestia, catching him before he departed. “It would reassure me to know that I do not need to garrison a legion of troops here, to watch for signs of a future assault from your lands.”
Ragnarok chuckled. Alas, she had slipped beneath her cloak once more. A pity. “If you feel the need to fortify your borders after tonight, Celestia, I will take no offense. In fact, it is almost a compliment. You are a ruler, and you must do whatever you believe is best for your subjects. As I must do what is best for mine...” he said. Then he cracked her a wide, toothy grin, a cocky gleam in his eye. “And after what I have seen tonight, I have very much decided that what is in the best interests of my people... is to avoid a war with yours at all costs.”
Celestia smiled and nodded respectfully, and he returned the gesture. Then he flared his wings and beat them powerfully, launching himself into the air and following the course that Valkyr had flown towards the south, the sunlight glittering on his bronze scales. Then he was gone, and Celestia was alone on the ridge.
She looked at the sun and smiled. For whatever reason there was a peace within her that she had not felt in such a long time. It had felt so good to talk. In fact, she hadn’t realised just how much she had needed it. Her composure had numbed her in that respect. Was Ragnarok right? If she kept hiding her feelings beneath her cloak, as he called it, would she eventually become empty and unfeeling? An emotionless, hollow void beneath a porcelain shell of calm, equally numb to elation as to despair? It was a frightening thought... but one for another day. For now, she felt refreshed and strangely serene, the light of the new sun filling her with a happy, light optimism that had escaped her for too long.
She spread her wings and took flight with a flourish, sailing high over the northern peaks towards the lake, feeling the wind on her feathers and the sun on her flanks. She spotted the lake and the assembled mass of ponies and chariots lining the northern shore and began her descent, eventually landing before her subjects, all of whom looked immensely relieved to see her.
“Your highness, are you alright?” asked Stormrunner, stepping forward.
“I’m fine,” said Celestia with a smile. “I gather you have had a visitor?”
“The dragon, yes. When we saw him approach, we were sure something had happened to you. We were all ready to give him what-for when he showed us Sky, and she stopped us; explained what was going on. After that? Well... it’s been an interesting evening, your majesty.”
“On that we agree,” said Celestia with a nod. “Where is Sky?”
“She is over here, Princess,” said Stormrunner, motioning for her to follow.
He led her a short way through the crowd of guards, to where a loose circle had formed. There, in the centre, lying limp and unconscious on her side upon a pile of blankets, was Sky. Her injured wing was bandaged, and she was being tended to by Avalanche, laid next to her with an open water flagon, gently stroking her mane, and Fairweather standing over her.
“What happened to her?” asked Celestia, shocked.
“She’s okay, your highness,” said Stormrunner. “Her wing is twisted and it’ll be a week before she can fly again. But other than that, she’s not physically hurt.”
“She collapsed about an hour ago,” piped up Avalanche, not taking her eyes off of Sky. “Medic says it’s exhaustion. We don’t think she’s slept in the last twenty-four hours. That and all the stress of tonight seems to have caught up.” Avalanche finally looked up. “She’ll be okay, ma’am. She just needs rest.”
Celestia nodded and allowed herself a sigh of relief. If a sprained wing and one case of exhaustion was all the harm Equestria had suffered tonight, then she had got off very lightly indeed. “Scoop her up, Fairweather, gently. Put her on my chariot and make her comfortable. Once we return to Canterlot, take her to my chambers. She can rest there, and I will stay with her until she wakes.”
“Of course,” said Fairweather.
Celestia nodded. Then, she turned to Avalanche. “Thank you for staying with her,” she said.
Avalanche’s gaze rested once more on Sky, still gently stroking her mane. “She’s got me lookin’ out for her. She might not fly like a Wonderbolt... but she’s sure got the guts of one.” She looked back at Celestia. “You’ll let us know when she’s feeling better, right Princess? Only, once she’s back on her hooves, me and the rest of the squad are gonna take her training. Make sure that wing of hers heals up better-than-new.”
“Oh, we are, are we?” said Fairweather from behind her, wearing a grin that Avalanche couldn’t see.
“Yes, Boss, we are,” said Avalanche resolutely. Then her attention was back with Celestia. “That is, with your permission, ma’am.”
Then Fairweather was looking at Celestia too, still smiling. “Looks like we are. We’ll make sure she gets the best care, Princess,” he said. Then, gingerly, Avalanche and Fairweather gathered Sky up, Avalanche gently laying her across Fairweather’s back, and they carried her away towards the royal chariot.
“Your highness?” said Stormrunner from her side. “The dragons... that silver one, Valkyr, implied that war was off the table, but I get the impression he didn’t have the final say in that. Are we still under threat?”
Celestia looked back towards the hills to the south, trying to see past them to the foreign lands beyond. “No. I don’t think so.” She looked back at him. “But when we return to Canterlot I would like you to see that this border is patrolled at least twice daily. Just in case.”
“Yes, Princess.”
“For now though, let’s go home.”
The battalion formed up and Celestia took her seat on her chariot, next to Sky. Then, they were away, pulled into the sky ahead of the rest of the contingent, and heading northwards.
Two-hundred and four ponies had left Canterlot that evening, and now two-hundred and four were heading home, behind one Princess.
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I loved it! Great story!
You have my attention.
As blatant a reference that is, Ragnarok's response makes this perhaps my single favorite use of it I've seen yet.
Mares and genltecolts, I give you The Princess Snide.
Before I say anything else: a full length story about one of the best OCs ever made?
Yes please.
As for what is in said story so far - this is amazing and awesome and lots of other good words that I cannot articulate right now because my brain is still squeeing.
You monster!
In which Ragnarok makes a valiant attempt at becoming best pony.
E-yup.
Genre-savvy, thy true name is Alondro.
Aww, she didn't get gobbled up. ANIME TEACHINGS HAVE FAILED ME!!