Part Sixteen
The Rariad
By Tundara
16: Gaea
The bleached bones of Delos greeted the weary survivors of Athens, as if foretelling the refugees of their ultimate fate. Rarity gazed over the empty streets and dilapidated homes, sadness pinching her heart. This had been a city faithful to her predecessor. Fifty thousand ponies called the city home at the height of its glory.
Now it was empty. A marker for so many undug graves.
A shiver ran up Rarity’s spine, a sensation all-too familiar after her time in Tartarus overcoming her. Ghosts lingered in the ruins. Spirits who refused to depart, trapped in their final moments after rejecting the reapers came to guide them through the mists to the rivers leading to the underworld. The night, when the veil of the mists grew thinner and the lingering spirits could interact with the living, was going to be long and harrowing.
“Hypocemia, we must find shelter for the foals, and set up campfires. We should send someone to find any buildings not about to collapse. I assume that the government buildings or temples have weathered the years better than the rest of the city, since they seem to be built a bit sturdier than the average home,” Rarity spoke with calm assurance, having been practicing the words ever since she and Aphrodite had circled the city.
Carrying their packs off the galleys, the Athenians entered Delos. Homes and villas quickly found new occupants, the former senate for the city filled with sleeping rolls and exhausted bodies. The palace itself was put aside for the goddesses, to Rarity’s chagrin. It had a great deal of space, the last king of Delos having been very wealthy and prone to expanding his home at his neighbours’ expense. In the gardens, at Rarity’s insistence, a kitchen was set up to provide food, similar cooking pits placed throughout the ruins to feed the refugees. She took the orphans into the empty feasthall, where the king had held his banquets. Replacing the debris with mats and blankets, Rarity wondered briefly how the Muses were faring with Hephaestus, and quickly shook away the thoughts to focus on more pressing matters.
“The state of the Athenians is far worse than even I feared in my darkest hours,” Aphrodite said, coming into feasthall as Rarity served out bowls of a thin, watery soup. “There are perhaps at most two or three thousand battle-ready stallions, and among them are many whose armour is in a poor state or lacks sword, spear, or shield. The charioteers, naturally, had to leave their vehicles behind, so we have no fast moving cavalry of which to speak. It is truly a sad state we are in, as poor as could ever be expected, with hope as fleeting as a warm wind on a winter peak. We must find the Delos’ armoury so that they may be properly equipped when the Spartans arrive, assuming that the decaying effects of time have not left only rotten heaps of refuse fit only for rats.”
Pressing her lips into a thin line, Rarity sniffed, and passing a bowl to a snaggle-toothed filly, said, “The Athenians shouldn’t have to fight my battles.”
“Yet they will with glad hearts, even as fear grips their bellies at the prospect of death, the thanes waiting in the mists to hurry them to the underworld like black-garbed spectres. It is to us to guide, protect, and witness their struggle.”
Jaw clenched tight, Rarity slammed her serving spoon into the empty pot before her. “I simply can not accept that! I should stand beside them.”
“Do that and they too will take to the battlefield. What chance do you think you have against Ares when Hephaestus was only just his equal in the heart of his domain. On a battlefield Ares is near Zeus’ equal in measure, a red wave of slaughter unbound. Do not allow fear to take you, however, as so long as we stay true to the old ways so too will he, for he has become strangely dutiful since the last war.”
Rarity shook her head, but couldn’t shake the sense of helplessness that weighed heavily in her belly. It remained all the days long as the Athenians prepared for the coming of the Spartans. After basic shelter had been found in the surviving buildings, sources of food had to be gathered for the thousands of refugees, but thankfully the lands around Delos were lush, with many good things growing in the fields and on trees left by the city’s former inhabitants, many ponies going about together, earth pony beside unicorn, to harvest as much as they could manage.
Meanwhile, Hypocemia, her side thick with her growing foal, and several other mares from the prominent households came to Rarity and Aphrodite demanding they and anypony else who chose to do so be allowed to fight.
“We can no longer hide and pray for our husbands, sons, and fathers safety. The truth is plain to all that we are in our most hours, and either we fight and die with heads held high or be taken as Sparta’s slaves to be ravaged and used as they please.”
Aphrodite stayed silent, while Rarity said, “Normally I would agree, darling, but…”
Her voice trailed off as she chewed on her lower lip. The truth was that there was no reason to deny the mares the chance to fight for their own freedom and lives. Many of Equestria’s most storied heroes were mares. It was a running joke that there were more mares than stallions that left their marks on history. Though, this was in no small part due to the gross inequity in sheer numbers of fillies born to colts, a situation unreplicated on Gaea, where if anything there were more colts born than fillies.
“You are right,” Rarity concluded, drawing a slight smile from Aphrodite, and a crescendo of murmurs from the crowd of mares who’d anticipated more of a challenge to their request. “The Spartans don’t care if you are a stallion or a mare, so why should we? It’ll give them quite a shock when they see you ready to fight for your foals.”
A cheer rang out, and the knot of anxiety in Rarity’s belly tightened.
“In fact, everypony who wants should be allowed to fight. Where I am from, many of the strongest heroes are Earth ponies. Rockhoof, Chancellor Puddinghead, and more recently my friend Applejack, are all exceptionally strong and resilient.”
Rarity grinned through the predictable mutters as the gathered mares shifted on their hooves from side to side.
It was a short moment before Hypocemia spoke. “My lady, is this an ill timed jest, like a sudden chill freezing grapes on the vine that may happen when the winds blow hard down the mountains?”
“Darlings, if you can fight beside your husbands and sons, why can’t the Earth ponies also fight?”
“But, they are the doulos, and are useless in battle! Without magic they will be cut down as grain beneath the scythe.”
“Which they will anyway when the Spartans burst into the city.”
“But—but, we are meant to protect them! We are unicorns and fight to keep them safe! Athens will never fall so low that we would break the ancient compact and make them fight for us! It has always been this way since time immemorial. The stallions guard the herd while the mares birth and raise the next generation, managing the household and divvying appropriately what is provided by the earth ponies. Each has their roles, and to even contemplate asking them to fight—it would mean that we have utterly failed in our part and deserve the death coming for us.”
All the gathered ponies hung their heads in abject shame.
Rarity tsked and said softly, “If my plan works, which I have every faith it will, then this compact won’t be applicable anymore.”
“Then the sons and daughters of Athens will have to adapt, but until then, while it is unusual, we will fight. It is the least we can do as unicorns.”
Proudly, the mares set off at once, but a predictable problem immediately asserted itself in their critically low number of arms and armour. In their flight from Athens food and items of basic survival had been prioritised, with only a few of the more foolish ponies bringing what they could of their fortunes. Gold and silver were meaningless now, and only served to make other ponies sneer at their folly.
Efforts were redoubled to find the Delos armoury to no avail. Those survivors of the city had taken what they could when they fled, and in the intervening years many a pony had picked the city clean of everything that could be easily found. No great caches of weapons remained to be discovered.
As realisation of the true depths of their plight began to sink in the Athenians began to despair.
Still, they made due with what preparations could reasonably be done. The galleys were set up in such a way as to prevent the Spartans from landing their forces directly into the harbour, around which Delos was spread with a hill on either side marking the east and western edges of the ruins. Like Athens, Delos possessed walls, though hers were in a terrible state of repair, with gaping holes and gaps filled with tumbled down bricks and gravel. These Rarity and Aphrodite repaired, restoring them easily so that a blade of grass couldn’t fit between two stones and the entire face was as smooth as glass, and then enhanced beyond their original mortal creators ability so that stood a hundred hooves high.
“Well, it is something at least,” Rarity sighed despondently as she completed her work on the gatehouse.
“‘Something’?” Hypocemia exclaimed. “Surely, no other walls have ever been so elegant or as tall that were not part of either Olympus nor the Citadel of Light, that glorious fortress that was home to your predecessor. The Spartans will have great difficulty taking these walls.”
“Walls hardly matter if we have nopony to defend them,” Rarity pointed out and made her way back towards the kitchens to help with the evening meal. “We have to do something about our equipment issues, but I just don’t see an answer.”
“Excuse my presumption, Lady Rarity, but could you not create armour and spears for us?”
“I’d thought of that as well, darling, and made the attempt at fashioning some armour, however, I don’t know how to make functional barding. What I made was pretty and decorative. Why, you’d love absolutely fabulous when on parade or standing a ceremonial guard! But, as for protecting a pony from injury? It was utterly useless.”
Hypocemia hid her disappointment well, and returned to her own duties shortly after.
Through all this time Hephaestus’ hammer rang clear over the disc from dawn till well past dusk, a steady thrumm-thrumm-thrumm that made the ground vibrate and was felt in the soul. The day following the repair of the walls all was silence. Rarity shivered at the lack of the ringing thrumm, wondering if everything was alright back at Etna. Her mouth went dry at the thought, and her heart went into a flurry of anxious spasms as she imagined the Muses dead at Ares’ hoof. She missed them and their singing, exuberance, and most importantly, their smiles, and the idea of them being harmed left her cold inside.
“Aphrodite, I’m going to see if everything is alright at Mount Etna,” Rarity said, throwing her cloak over her shoulders as she readied to depart.
The Goddess of Love tilted her head and frowned, but before she could ask why, Hephaestus and the Muses appeared above the city, a great tarp that bulged hanging from a rope tied to Hephaestus’ girdle. Broad bronze wings pumping powerfully, Hephaestus deposited his cargo into the central square of the former city.
“Rarity!” The Muses cried as one as they dashed towards her. “Everything is ready! Hephaestus just has to put it together now!”
“Which will take a great bloody while longer, make no mistake,” Hephaestus grumbled. “Forging aurichalcum plates is the easy part. Now we got to align them while weaving in the enchantments. We get this wrong at any point and the whole thing will explode in our faces; literally. You did good though, you three, now stay out of the way with that one.” He jerked his head towards Rarity.
“Mr. Hephaestus, a quick question before you get back to work,” Rarity quickly chimed as he pulled out a diamond encrusted chisel and engraver's tools. “You wouldn’t happen to have any spears or armour, would you? The Athenians left most of their behind in Athens and…” Rarity gestured helplessly at the ruins.
Blinking a couple times, Hephaestus’ frown deepened. Casting his hardened gaze over the ponies gathered about them to watch the arrival of the God of the Forge and the Muses, Hephaestus selected three ponies.
“Kelemon, son of Dadalous, I grant you the insight of the owl, with eyes sharp and body untiring that you may work the night through. Eudora, daughter of Dadalous, I grant you the industriousness of the beaver, that you may extract from the land its bounty and turn it into whatever your mind can conceive. Polymnia, I grant you the endurance of the bull and the strength of the bear, so that your blows will shape metal with but a single strike of your hammer. Go and make for yourselves what you need.”
There were three flashes, three shouts of shocked joy, and three new Blessed joined the ranks of those who’d found cutie marks during Rarity’s previous stay among the Athenians. With a wave of his horn, Hephaestus restored Delos’ workshops and rekindled the fires in the forges.
Working together, the Athenians gathered every scrap of bronze and iron they could find. The forges worked night and day under the guidance of the Blessed of Hephaestus, churning out a greater number of arrows, spears, and barding than any mortal workshop could ever produce.
A week passed, Hephaestus labouring at his great work.
Two came and went.
And then a third, with no sign of the Benevolence of Beauty, nor of the Spartans, until as rosy-feathered dawn bloomed on the last day of Fall, the galleys of the Spartans slid from the haze of the horizon like ghosts from a misty woods.
Ares flew over the fleet, as did Niomedes, healed of her injuries and wearing the pelt of the Nemaredian Lion, whose golden sheen repelled all weapons and made the bearer invisible in any wild place, and a quiver of poison tipped arrows on her flank; along with black cloaked Achlys, the God of Death, whose great father was Hades, the God of the Dead, and was rarely seen on any mortal world; Hestia, her blue ribbons streaming like long tails behind her flew beside Ares; and lastly there was Alke, the Goddess of Courage and Sports.
Behind this formidable entourage were Eos, the Goddess of the Dawn singing as she brought about a new day, and her mother, the mighty Theia, Goddess of Glory and Gold, and one of the oldest gods, who by Helios, the long dead former God of Light, had born Hemera, Nyx, and Eos in the First Realm before the myriad worlds had been formed, granting her trio of daughters that status of Old Gods. Behind Eos and Theia came Hemera and Nyx themselves, though none of the four were grabbed for war, and instead of joining in the battle would land on the western hill, and from there observe all that occurred.
Not so were Hera and Phoebus-Apollo, who were resplendent in glittering dresses of aurichalcum mail and tall plumed helmets. The pair wheeled around the city and descended towards where Rarity stood with Aphrodite.
“Do you concede?” Hera demanded as she landed. “There is no need to continue and drag the mortals into your mess when you claim to value them so highly. Swallow your pride and return to Olympus and all can be forgiven.”
There was worry in Hera’s eyes, and genuine concern in the quaver of her voice that only another alicorn could detect, though why Hera should be concerned eluded Rarity. Hera’s gaze briefly settled on the Athenians on the walls, mares standing shoulder to shoulder with stallions, all in their new armour, with shields and spears at the ready. Ten thousand all together, they were still a motley sight, with no training, but full of determination and with backs pressed into a corner, ready to fight and die to protect those they loved.
In a lower voice, Hera added, “Please!”
“You are worried about them,” Rarity gasped, anger rising such that she desired greatly to hurl herself at the alicorn-filly before her.
Head high, Hera repeated her demand.
“No. It won’t end if I surrender. Not now.”
Hera’s expression fell. She shifted on her hooves, shot looks up and down the walls, and said, “Then I will stand with you and Aphrodite.”
Few things could have shocked Rarity more, and her mouth flapped as she struggled for words.
“Then welcome, dear Hera, Queen of the Gods,” Aphrodite sweetly said as Hera slipped in between her and Rarity. “What of you Phoebus-Apollo, are you to join our beleaguered side as well?”
He looked over the Athenians, and then to the still approaching Spartan fleet, and shook his head. “I gave aid to the Benevolencians, as their courage was exemplary, but I will take neither side in this war. I will join those who observe and wish you well, but the odds are far from favourable.”
Phoebus-Apollo bowed to the goddesses and retired to the hill where even more Olympians had now gathered, including the Moirai themselves, the Fates standing apart from the rest of the heavenly crowd. There was an air of solemnity, like they were watching a funerary procession.
Rarity shivered one last time, and put aside all the fears and anxieties that had built inside her like the gasses of a bubbling cauldron with lid firmly affixed. The time for battle had come.
There were no speeches or offers of surrender from Ares and his retinue, just the thunderous exaltation of war.
In ages to come, the Muses would lay the chiefs, princes, and kings of those who came in such numbers that no mortal could give a full recounting of them if they had ten tongues, and their voice was strong, to slay the beleaguered Athenians as such; Arrayed beneath Ares were the ponies of Sparta, Helos, Gythion, and Thyrea, each filled with ponies enraged by the trickery used upon their homes and the destruction caused by Trixie and the Benevolencians, all lead by King Agethemus himself, standing proud beside the tiller of his gilded galley in full battle-raiment of shining bronze. In each ship of the one-hundred and fifty ships were on-hundred and twenty stallions girded for war.
Penelos, Leïtus, Arcesilaus, Prothoënor, and Clonius were captains of the Boeotians, who dwelt in rocky lands, and who held Schoenus, Scolus, and the highlands of Eteonus, with Thespeia, Graia, and the fair city of Mycalessus. So too they held Harma, Eilesium, and Erythrae; as well as Eleon, Hyle, and Peteon; Oscalea, and the indomitable fortress of Medeon; the fortress of Thebes; holy Onchestus which was much beloved by Poseidon for its groves; the vineyards of Arne; Midea, sacred Nisa, and upon the sea there was Anthedon. These captains brought with them fifty ships.
Ascalaphus and Ialmenus, chosen of Ares, led the ponies that dwelt in Aspeldon and Orchomenus, the realm of Minyas. Sons of Astyoche, a noble maiden who bore them in the house of Actor, son of Azeus, and she was a High Priestess of War. With them there came thirty ships.
The Phoceans were led by Schadius and Epistrophus, sons of mighty Iphitus, son of Naubolus. These were ponies of Cyparissus, rocky Pytho, holy Crisa, Daulis, and Panopeus; as well as dwelling in Anemorea and Hyampolis, and about the waters of the river Cephissus, Lilaea by the river’s springs. With these chieftains came forty ships.
Ajax, son of Oileus, commanded the Locrians. He was not so great as the ancestor for whom he was named, Ajax, son of Telamon. He was a slight stallion who wore only a thin tunic of linen instead of barding, but in use of battle-magic he excelled all in that age and the next. With him came forty ships of the ponies who dwelt beyond Euboea.
From Euboea with its cities, Chalcis, Eritrea, Histiaea with its rich vines, Cerinthus upon the sea, and the clifftop town of Dium, came Abantes, son of Chalcodon. He led ponies who were fleet of hoof and wore their manes long and unbraided, all brave warriors, who strove to tear open their foes with long ashen spears. Of these ponies there were a further fifty ships.
Twelve ships came from Salamis, and these were led by yet another Ajax, for the name was very common in that age.
The stallions of Argos, long Sparta’s allies, and who held the lands between those of Sparta and those of Athens, populated by the cities of Oenoe; Phlious, Sicyon, and opposite across a wide bay, Heraoin in the north; Proud Hermoine in the south on the sea, with Haliesis, and Troezen. These were led by Diomed, who held command even over Euryalus, son of king Mecisteus, son of Talaus. With them came eighty ships.
Nestor, knight of Gerene, brought the stallions of Pylos and Methone and Thuria of Messenia. In ages past, before the destruction of the Citadel of Light and the loss of the Muses, they had taken a dislike to the poet Thamyris, and stilled his minstrelsy forever, robbing him of his power of song after he boasted that should he sing against them he would surpass them. Ninety ships came from these lands, such were the bonds between Pylos and Sparta.
And so the telling reaches Arcadia, under the high mountain of Cyllene, near the tomb of Aepytus, where the stallions fight hoof-to-hoof with no magic. The stallions of Pheneus, and Orchomenus thick in flocks of sheep; Dipaea and Tegea. King Agapenor, son of Ancaeus, was commander, and they had sixty ships provided by the Spartans, for Arcadia is landlocked and has no ports of its own and were unused to the ocean.
From Elis came four chieftains, hailing from Olympia and Lepreum, Hyrmine, and Myrsinus upon the seashore. These captains were Amphimachus, son of Cteatus, and Thalpius, son of Eurytus, and both of Actor’s line. The others were Diores, son of Amarynces, and Polyxenus, son of King Agasthenes, son of Augeas. They came with forty ships.
Further were contacted, the islands to the west and lands further north, to join the great retributionary fleet, but had been held back from coming by foul weather, and so this was all that emerged from the mists that terrible day.
On seeing such a fleet Rarity’s mouth went dry and her heart sunk lower still. How could they stand against such a host?
They were outnumbered seven to one, at least. Proper soldiers who trained for years approached, while they had more mares, barely adult colts, and the untrained in hastily made armour.
“Remember, we need not win, only delay,” Aphrodite said softly. She cast a glance over her withers to where Hephaestus still worked at what everypony hoped were the finishing touches to his Gate.
“Well, darlings, let us hope they decide to take their time or argue who gets the oh-so great honour of crushing us,” Rarity bristled.
Every instinct screamed that she should fight beside the Athenians. One look at the alicorns flying above the fleet warned her against such an action. Whatever impact she could have, however many lives she could save, Ares would reverse in an instant. He was the God of War, and there would be no holding back his onslaught without the assistance of a similar god. The sliver of Serene that had merged with Rarity wished that Athena stood beside her on that wall. Of all the alicorns besides Zeus, Athena was Ares’ match when it came to battle, and had even wounded him during their final war.
The Argonians were the first to attack, their ships coming straight for the port.
The ponies along the docks nervously shifted in their hiding spots. Fretfully they looked up to the seaside tower where the goddesses watched, and where Hypocemia commanded with Menestheus, who with Mystalicus and Argentes both unreturned had been named general of the Athenians.
Rarity ears flicked as a sudden swell of prayers came to her, ponies throughout the city clutching small totems or charms as they evoked her name for protection. Her insides tightened, and she wished she could answer the prayers.
It was so wrong. She had so much power, and was so impotent. Trapped by that power. If she’d been a regular unicorn still she’d have been down there among them.
Nearer the Argonians drew. So close that Rarity could see the glint of eyes behind corinthian helms. She leaned towards the edge of the parapets, and reflexively her wings stretched out like broad white pennants in the brilliant daylight.
Next to her Hera and Aphrodite were utterly silent and grave, and then, Hera said softly, “This is my fault. I never meant for it to go this far. I just wanted to win against you, not cause this massacre.”
The hot flash of anger that roiled through Rarity was all the answer she gave.
With a nod, Hypocemia sent a command to the ponies stationed at the harbour, and the galleys that had vouch-safed the Athenians all these long years were set ablaze. Spells flashed and slammed into hulls doused with oil and covered in fresh kindly and dried grass. Within moments the flames towered higher than the tallest towers and formed a blistering wall that prevented anypony from coming close to the shore.
In a sudden chaos, the Argonians crashed into each other in their efforts to avoid the sudden flames. A couple galleys were less lucky, smashing into the growing inferno, the fires spreading among the tight-packed rowers and the ponies on the decks. Rarity wanted to look away as burning ponies leapt from the smoke and roaring blaze into the choppy waters where they’d be beaten against sinking hulls, struck by falling debris, and dragged underwater by treacherous currents. More spells were hurled at the Argonians, but they had swiftly recollected themselves after that initial moment, and their battle-casters turned the spells aside with ease. Diomed himself snapped his horn left and right, turning several lesser firebolts back towards the buildings along the harbour where they splattered harmlessly against stone walls. With a battle-cry he signalled his stallions to launch their own magics, and a great many bolts of magic streaked into the harbour, a few detonating with a shrill scream that hurt the ears of those nearby. But, the Athenians had already abandoned their positions along the harbour, their job setting their ship aflame done, and none were harmed by the Argonians spells.
“Now they are forced to land their armies and attack the walls, and we don’t have to worry about our backs,” Rarity sighed with relief.
It took hours for the great fleet to swing east and west to where they could disgorge their soldiers onto the many narrow beaches. Hours more past and dark feathered dusk swept over the disc before they’d marched to the outer walls. There the tens of thousands of ponies gathered under Agathemus’ banner and he held a council of war to decide the honours of battle.
Diomedes and the Argonians, in recompense for the trickery played on them in the harbour, were given the honour of assaulting the central wall, where the fighting would be thickest. In support of them would be Agethemus and Dapolleta with their Spartans, and the Phoceans. To the Boeotians went the honour of the first assault on the eastern walls, Arcesilaus in command, along with the Locrians, Orchomenians, and Elisians. The western walls were given to Arcadians, Pylosians, and Phoceans, with Nestor in overall command of their efforts.
With their forces so divided the army settled down around their campfires where they burnt offerings of fatty meats wrapped around the bone to the gods. Rarity had yet to encounter the practice in her time on holy Gaea, and when she saw a small group of ponies doing so while praying to an idol with her cutie mark carved deep into the wood she blanched and had to withhold her tongue from lashing them for their sickening cruelty. At first she wondered where they’d even found the meat, and then she remembered the small number of cattle, those dim witted beasts, brought for their milk.
Flying to the tower where Aphrodite and Hera stood, Rarity said, “Is that normal?”
They looked with some shock as well down on the ponies below.
“It was somewhat common in ancient times, and ponies still burn offerings to this day, but long has it been since I had anypony burn meat seeking my blessings. If they believe it will draw my gaze they are mistaken, as no practice is less lovely than the needless taking of a life. They may as well throw themselves from a cliff with wings of wax, as that would be more likely to please me, for I would no longer need hear their incessant bleating,” spoke Aphrodite.
Hera said, “I know something of this listening to Ares, as it was done by ponies going to war, believing that a sacrifice of one flesh would save their own. It may draw his gaze, but not mine. We need to stop this and have them make proper offerings.”
The three goddesses, each taking with them one of the Muses, went about the city, each spreading word of the tokens and offerings most liable to draw their attention when inundated by a chorus of voices all seeking their guidance or protection.
Hera told them to tie a feather from a hawk, cuckoo, or crane about a willow switch and burn this and she’d take it favourably.
And this they did.
Aphrodite said to her petitioners, “Take the soft petals of a rose, breath of the gods and joy of the mortals, and cast them out to the sea so that they may drift where the currents intend. As you do so wear a garland of myrtle, and hold to your heart who you most cherish. If your piety is true it may reach me.”
And this they did.
Rarity was at a loss as to how to direct her followers, as she had no holy birds or plants, nor did she yet have any rituals to pass on to those who’d seek her blessings.
“There has to be something,” Aoide, who’d decided to stay with Rarity while Melete went with Hera, and Mneme with Aphrodite. “You were once mortal… How did you get your blessing?”
“My cutie mark?” Rarity smiled despite the anxiety thick in the night.
She told the tale of the day she found her special talent, finding comfort in the memories of that distant day where she’d been dragged by her magic to the clifftop boulder, the heights of her frustration, and the greater heights of her joy when it broke in half to reveal the wealth of gemstones within.
As she finished the telling, Aoide gave a cheer and jumped high, wings pumping to carry her higher still.
“That is it! Just as you found the beauty in the boulder, you must find it in your petitioners. Have them take a gemstone or crystal and cast it from a high place. Blue diamonds would be best, but even the richest of kings have but a scant few in their treasuries, and it would leave the common pony unable to attract your gaze. But, even they are able to get a blue glass bead. The effect will be diminished of course, but if I am right, it should be enough.”
Tapping her chin, Rarity thought over the suggestion, and then added, “It should be wrapped in a swatch of cloth. Silk, linen, or cotton would be fine.”
“Wait here,” Aoide directed, and left Rarity in the inner courtyard of the former palace while she spread the tale of the ritual among the Athenians.
Rarity waited, eyes wandering over the old apple tree at the center of the garden, playing with the pearls about her neck. Her mind naturally drifted to Ponyville and her friends. She tried to imagine what her friends would be doing. How the years would have treated them. It had been many, this Rarity was certain. Three, four, maybe even five, or perhaps more. It was impossible to know how long she languished in Tartarus and Amaymon, and it had been almost a year she’d been on Gaea. Slowly, her senses drifted outward, touching the invisible luminescence that was the field of Beauty that surrounded and was generated by all things.
Applejack would be relaxing next to the decorated hearth, knitting just like Granny Apple used to do over the holidays. The orchards would be all settled down for the winter, barrels of cider situated in the cellars and everything tucked away neatly. She’d be married and a mother by now, Rarity decided. Two—no, three foals. A big family suited Applejack.
Pinkie Pie, well, she’d have her own store. A combination party supplies, bakery, and music hall where she could host events. She’d be a bachelorette still, too outgoing and loving to settle down, needing to spread joy to everypony around her, but unable to focus on a single pony as a result.
Rainbow Dash, why, she’d be living a life of—a single mother. Her daughter would be the sole focus of her life, everything she did to make that most special pony to her smile in safety and surrounded by warmth. Yes, this seemed right to Rarity, though from where the intuition came even she could hardly surmise.
Closing her eyes, Rarity thought of Fluttershy, and for the first time in a very long time, recalled those terrible final moments in the Everfree Forest when she’d thrown herself into the ravine in a last act to keep Serene from taking the Crusaders and killing Applejack and Fluttershy. Her heart thumped hard against her chest and she recognised in Fluttershy the same torment that had ravaged her own soul.
Fluttershy was like her; an alicorn.
Except, she was dating Big Mac. They were talking of marriage, but Fluttershy-Artemis held deep concerns. The half of her that was Artemis understood the pains of immortality and losing mortals to the swift passage of time. Her other half, that which belonged to Fluttershy, knew that cutting oneself off from the world was no way to live. It was only natural they would lose ponies, but they lost the memories of those ponies if they never even made the attempt to interact.
As for Twilight, she was in Canterlot with Lord Hades and Luna. There was something truly beautiful slowly budding. It had the potential to become a love that could transcend time. Stronger it would need to grow, but the seed was hearty and the roots had plenty of space.
Rarity began to pull back to her body, and as she did she brushed against a contained inferno brighter than anything she’d before seen, and massive in scope. So massive was it that it would take a pony half a thousand years to cross its surface. The size of the orb made even Rarity’s godly mind recoil, but it wouldn’t let her escape. It pulled at her, dragging her towards the crackling fields of blistering plasma. Thick bands howled, pulled upwards by some other force that Rarity could hardly quantify, like a golden ring of molten energy, and directed right at her. The nearest part of the band began to snap, ready to unleash a torrential flare right in her face, only to stop. Hesitantly, the band fell back into the greater body of the roiling orb. And then a pair of familiar eyes opened.
“Rarity?” Celestia asked, her voice as the clap of a thousand thunderbolts above a lonely mountain.
There was no time for Rarity to respond. Hearing Celestia’s voice, so perfectly controlled and poised, broke her concentration, and Rarity found herself back in the ruins of Delos.
“That was Celestia,” Rarity breathed, elation thick in her throat. She wanted to grab some pony and swing them around as she laughed hysterically. Trixie! She needed to share the news with Trixie! But, Trixie was missing still.
“Oh, Celestia,” Rarity glanced up at the beautiful sky, the clouds parting to show the remaining stars abandoned by Astraea. She only barely noted the jewels about her neck were warm to the touch as she idly played with him with her hoof. “Get here soon, Trixie. I can’t leave you here on Gaea. I didn’t leave you in Tartarus. We needed each other to escape Amaymon. And I need you again.”
Before she could go any further down these thoughts, Aoide’s efforts bore their first fruits. Senses still heightened from being deeper within the tides of Beauty than ever before, she heard a prayer greater than the usual buzzing that floated at the edge of perception. She was drawn towards it, and with it, to a young stallion barely more than colt.
Through Beauty she saw him, crawny knees trembling as he stood at the edge of a broken roof. Just below a handkerchief wrapped around a small, uncut sapphire tumbled towards a mirror smooth pool of water in the bay. With a gentle plink it was swallowed by the waters, and Rarity’s senses sharpened.
She saw everything about the lad.
His generous spirit—giving the last of his rations to his ailing sister—his indomitable will—carrying the supplies of an old mare, even when his own legs threatened to give out, to the ships in the hasty flight from Athens—legs that had been used since arriving at Delos dancing to entertain a group of orphans. And now, though he was so terrified he could hardly think, he would do everything in his power to keep his sister safe, to help the elderly, and to allow the misfortunate a chance to smile again.
“Young Algremetus, son of Ascalon, I grant you the speed of the swallow as it flits through the meadows, and the heart of the golden lions, proud and unflinching before any foe. Go, darling, with my Blessing.”
Power flowed through Rarity’s words, sparking and taking hold in the young stallion, connecting him to Her for the rest of his life, and beyond.
No sooner had she completed the blessing than her gaze was drawn again, this time to a middle-aged mare at the distant eastern edge of the walls. Her offering danced like a ballerina as it fell towards a small puddle in the outer ditch. Gently it touched the water, and Rarity saw a resolute younger version of the mare—tirelessly she worked to harvest golden fields beside earth ponies—hauling at the oars as the galleys fled Athens till her hooves split and her legs ached so that she couldn’t even stand when relieved—her tender heart—nursing an unrelated foal whose mother passed away giving birth—taking the foal in as her own to be raised beside her own son when they barely had enough to feed themselves. On either side of her were those same foals, now young adults themselves and very much in love with each other, and she would do whatever was needed to ensure they escaped the coming day.
“Alametea, mother of Phoros and Agatea, I grant you the sight of the hawk on the wing, and the cunning of the panther stalking through grasslands to feed her cubs. Go, with my love, and protect every foal.”
On the western walls Rarity’s gaze was taken next, this time to a stout stallion with a large belly, and equally large laugh. His offering plummeted with a hard plonk into a bucket placed next to the stairs leading to the wall’s tops. Wrinkles creased his soft blue eyes. Many battles had he seen, and somehow he’d come through them all, but only because he’d been a coward unable to harm another.
He was the gentlest of ponies—with parchment he carried insects and spiders outside rather than sweep them away with a broom—saucers of cream left out for the bedraggled alley cats—Generous to a fault—His own meagre possessions left on the dock so a stranger could bring an additional small bag—Unable to hate the Spartans though they’d taken his sons from him.
“Telephos, son of Geomede, I grant you the ferocious visage of the kodiak bear, who drives all enemies away with presence alone, and its strength to carry the lives of Athens on your back. Go, with your precious heart, and protect my little ponies.”
As she finished the third blessing Aoide gave her a big smile. “You are a proper alicorn now,” the Muse declared.
Rarity huffed, but felt a small measure of pride. She just hoped she’d done the right thing.
They were shortly joined by Aphrodite, Hera, Melete, Mneme, and surprisingly Chryses.
The old oracle bowed deeply to the goddesses, and said, “The last day of the Athenians on Gaea is upon us. Phoebus-Apollo has shown me that no matter the outcome, we are to vanish into history. Thank you a thousand times over, oh great Hera and lovely Aphrodite, for returning to us your gaze in these last days of our people. And blessed be you, Rarity, beauteous benefactor of all, for restoring hope to our hearts.”
Aching legs trembling, Chryses prostrated himself before the goddesses as rosy-feathered dawn swept over the disc, and the horns of war sounded.
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I kind of like how Hephaestus gave blessings out to some ponies. While I'm sad they don't earn marks on their own, it is like teaching a person to fish rather than giving them a fish.
I like how with prophecies that they can be open to interpretation. I'm hoping that Trixie and her companions show up and they and the Athenians all pass through the gate to Ioka leaving the attacking armies disappointed. I know better than to expect no loss of life. It wouldn't fit.
10551935
Yeah, the hand-written battle I have on my note pad is very much inspired by the battle on the beaches in the Iliad. There will be losses, sacrifices, heroics, and pointless death, just as the inspirational source.
This was an interesting chapter and I loved the blessings are used especially how Rarity's is related to her Cutie Mark. I suspect that the fact that Iokan ponies all have Cutie Marks is connected to Faust and the Weave. The mention of Argonians made me think of The Elder Scrolls series even if those are very different.
10552282
I wonder if Argos has any tales of 'Lusty Maids'... >.>
10552282
Agreed. Honestly at this point I’m agreed with Twilight in the previous story: if Faust had died, it would have irreparably damaged Equestria.
10553439
Twilight is a smart pony.
10400405
I don't get it.
How many chapters long will this story be?
10563993
At the moment I am anticipating 2 more chapters, and 1 interlude. We'll have to see how long the battle drags on to know for certain.
10563992
It is a reference to the manga/anime DanMachi.
10571783
You're right that Rarity hasn't been straight picked on for 20 chapters, that was just an example of a really bad streak I witnessed in a story I read a few months back.
I think her passivity is what gives me this feeling of her having no actual "victories", because most progress has been the act of somebody else (with the exception of her fleeing).
But as I said, and I would like to stress, I am not saying you've done it! I just fear that this coming battle will be a crushing defeat for her, and put her in a situation where she can't really recover from (if it goes the way of her losing). As you've set it up, they have no hopes of winning the battle, only stalling long enough for Hephaestus to create that Gate, and shepherd the Athenians through it. It's difficult to see victory, and after a streak of stories that did just kick a dead horse for 20 chapters, I'm getting anxious about this really easily, as I don't want to see my favourite stories come even close to that. Hence, the (if we're being honest, a bit rude) comment above.
10571967
You're comment wasn't rude. You were voicing a concern because you've read stories that had what you've seen as a unsatisfying arc for the protagonist. I'll be upfront, Rarity wont and doesn't win the fight against the Spartans and Ares. It would be incredulous to assume that she could on Gaea. I don't intend to have her be entirely passive, however. Part of what I've been attempting to show is the conflict she has internally between her inaction, her mounting frustration with herself, and intervening on the Athenians behalf.
If you don't mind the spoilers of what I'm working on;
One of my current ideas is to have her get more and more upset with herself for standing idle while seeing ponies dying in front of her eyes until, as the Athenians are rushing through the gate, directly intervening in order to give enough time for the Benevolencians to link up with the refugees. A short fight ensues between her and Ares where he is surprised that she does know how to handle herself, getting a few hits in on him before retreating through the gate as the last pony off Gaea.
I haven't started writing any of that yet, and we'll all see how it plays out when words start hitting the page. So, take that with a grain of salt. My writing process is very seat of the pants, even with ideas and goals in mind.
10572550
That "Spoiler" would count as something of a "victory" in my eyes. It's clear that Ares would win a fight between the two, but the fact that Rarity can get hits in on him (something I don't expected her to be able to do. Seems her trip to Hell toughened her up a little more than we thought), and that she succeeded in her goal (saving the Athenians) is a victory in and of itself. Both because it's not the crushing defeat I would expect with the situation as it is (as in, total loss. Gate is destroyed. Athenians slaughtered. Rarity imprisoned, etc), but also because she succeeds in what she was planning to do. A victory against Ares doesn't need to be her beating him in a fight, but just getting in a few hits at his strongest, which would be in a war I suspect, and then stopping him doing doing what he wants, that being to kill the Athenians and capture her.
So, if you do go that way, you'll have avoided my concern. I should also mention, I do like that her inaction isn't just skin-deep, if that makes sense. It becomes a part of the story due to how she becomes frustrated with herself, like you mention, and becomes something that pushes the plot forward, or at least her part in it, in a mildly ironic (but amusing) way.
Finally finished this chapter!
I'll be honest, that massive dump of names and cities, while true to the Illiad, was not terribly interesting. It makes sense given the style of this story, and the material that greatly inspired it, but it went on for a bit too long I think.
On a much more positive note, I absolutely loved the section from when Rarity first started getting lost in thoughts, then slowly just become in tune with her Sphere, somehow actually "meet" Celestia, and then hand out blessings. The way you wrote that is... I don't know if I'd say beautiful (heh, unintended pun), but definitely it was really amazing to read. I got this feeling like she just sort of rubberbanded back into her body, and like that a final piece of a puzzle fell into place and she, as was said by Aoide, became a proper Alicorn Goddess.
10573572
And I cut it short because it was just soooo loooong. A very long list of names and places, which while a very direct reference/lift from the Iliad, is also so dry.
Thank you for the comment on the following segment with Rarity. I wasn't sure how that would be greeted. If it would be a bit confusing or boring as well.
10573657
Cut short? Oh my. I'm glad you did. Those huge lists of names and places might be at home in the old epics, but not that great in modern pony fics
You're welcome for that comment, btw. I can see how someone getting lost in thought might not sound interesting to read, but I think it was made interesting, because of the set-up you had made, establishing Rarity's inability to touch "Beauty" and hand out blessings. I don't know if it's deliberate or not, but I kind of like the parallel between how she accessed "Beauty", and just inspiration to create in general. You can't Force inspiration (like she tried to initially, but met that "barrier"), it can only ever come to you, and it often comes when you're thinking of something unrelated.
10576487
I recall that there were definite signs that Trixie had been corrupted, without being aware, by Asmodeus in one of the earlier (well, later, but previously posted) chapters. I maybe be misremembering which protagonist was showing signs of corruption, but it was definitely one of them, and Trixie makes more sense as being basically mortal (therefore probably easier to corrupt).