Reining Butterflies

by Aeluna

Chapter One

The moon slipped into the sky gracefully that night, her stars waiting on her eagerly as they shone through the darkness. They hadn't been this bright in a long time, and for the villagers of the island it was a sight they simply had to see. A rare, breathtaking display of nature; Princess Luna had certainly outdone herself.

But for two young ponies, the show up above was not so interesting. For a now unenthusiastic Giya, especially, there were more important matters to be dealt with—such as the little cream creature which had now curled up before her, grooming its fur with its paws. It had hidden under the rug whilst she had —most reluctantly, it should be noted—eaten her supper and was now dusting itself off. It didn't grumble or complain, to give it credit, and merely watched the mare with a contemplative frown on its face.

“Are you alright?” it eventually asked, ceasing its grooming to fly a little closer. In response, Giya only opened her eyes and followed its every move, her ears folding back against her neck even further.

“Yeah. Sure,” she mumbled, rolling over so that she faced the wall. After a moment, the little creature then flew up higher and floated closer to her. It landed by her muzzle, smiling.

“You're not happy,” it said, and a small blush grew on its cheeks when Giya flinched. “Sorry. I… I'm really not gonna hurt you, y’know?”

There came no response but a half hearted flick of a tail.

“Look, I… I don't know what’s got you sad, but—”

At that, Giya stiffened a little. “Dato,” she snapped, her teeth grinding together. “He’s a merchant, living the high life while the little ponies like me struggle to eke a living at the bottom of the pile.”

The creature was quiet for a moment. “Jealousy, then?”

Giya shook her head and pushed herself up into a sitting position. The fur around her eyes was soaked from the tears which no longer fell. “No. I just…” A sigh escaped her lips. “Tonight was meant to be a break from all the work. My parents aren’t well, but they did everything for me so I could play buckball—but then he showed up. Wanted to join in our game, supposedly. And I just… The nerve of him!” She stood up and snorted. The little creature was quiet, though its eyes were slightly wider in fear. “He could pay somepony to play with him, and pay to win as well! And yet he dares come down to our game, wanting to join in with us! Us, the common peasants!”

The little creature drifted closer. When Giya didn't flinch away, it placed a small paw on her shoulder. “You know… he could have been genuine. There's always the possibility, even if he doesn't seem like that sort of pony.”

“I doubt it. They're all the same.”

“Oh.”

Silence fell over the room before Giya flattened her ears once more and flared her nostrils quickly. “Why am I telling you this, anyway? Who—what—even are you?”

The little creature grinned and looked as if it had perked up instantly. It seemed to almost bounce as it moved. “Oh, I’m a pamilya!” she began, as if such a fact was the most obvious thing in the world. Giya raised a skeptical eyebrow, though it was hard to see through her forelock. “We grant powers to ponies! Make you into superheroes!”

“We?”

The little pamilya blushed. “Sorry, I should've explained better. There are a number of pamilya, and each of us grant a different power! I give you the power of creation, and my opposite gives destructive powers.”

“Your opposite?”

“Oh, right. So, we pamilya come in pairs, so to speak. Each of us has a yin to our yang; that is to say, our partner is essentially our opposite. So, you know, the name.” The little creature shrugged. “It's quite fitting, actually; our creator named us all in pairs as well, so my opposite is called Luku, whilst my name is Lumikha. And might I say, it's a pleasure to meet you, Giya!”

Giya frowned. The heavy weight of her depression had now been fully lifted, replaced instead with a cloud of curious confusion. “Woah, woah,” she whispered, holding up her hooves. “Your creator? What do you mean? And, hey… are you some sort of stalker? How do you know who I am?”

Lumikha laughed. “I get so ahead of myself…” she murmured—Giya assumed she was female—and placed her paw on her forehead. It was just about big enough to cover the small brown print there. “I’ll tell you about our creator in time—though, indeed, we weren't born like you ponies. But for now… well, I think this is overwhelming enough, based on your expression right now! And, as for your name, you are my Chosen; the pony who was destined to be my partner in fighting evil and supervillains! Of course I know who you are, silly!”

Giya blinked a few times before her head swam. “Overwhelmed is right,” she whispered. “I could have sworn you just said something about fighting…”

Lumikha nodded rapidly. “Super villains, yeah!” she finished. “I mean, we weren’t originally designed to make ponies into superheroes, but here we are anyway!”

For a moment, Giya felt her curiosity spike and she leaned forwards slightly. She was hasty to draw back, though, and she kept quiet—but the world around her was not in such a calm mood, it seemed. Through the still nighttime air, a shrill scream reverberated. Giya leapt to her hooves immediately, but her suddenly terrified expression so perfectly countered Lumikha’s confident grin.

“It’s time, Giya!” she yelled, throwing her little paws up and wagging her tiny tail. “You just say let’s hunt, and I’ll transform you! But I—”

“What?” Giya reached out and grabbed Lumikha’s ear gently between her teeth. She quickly turned her upside down and poked her gently with a hoof, a small smile gracing her muzzle at the indignant squeak which then sounded. “Hunting? Why would I ever say that? I’m a pony, and let’s hunt is somethi—woah!”

The exclamation was not exactly quiet, but Giya’s shock was great enough to at least muffle it so that all she could produce was a breathy cry. Lumikha, too, squealed. She immediately became a blur and sped towards the shiny new horseshoe, but when she crashed into it no thud came; rather she morphed with the metal so that it flashed bright white. The nails were quickly replaced with small patches not unlike the one on Lumikha’s forehead. A leopard print against the shiny silver of the shoe itself, if one had to describe them.

Giya’s hooves lifted gently up from the floor and flashed a bright green, magic engulfing them entirely. Before her very eyes a pale cream material formed from thin air, splotched with warm brown rosette markings. As the aura progressed up her body she whimpered and thrashed slightly, but she could not find the confidence to speak or call for help. Not until the magic fell away, at least, to leave her clothed in a full-body suit which, it seemed, had elasticity enough to keep in one piece with any movement. The mask covering her eyes was a cute touch, she noted—but then she couldn’t help but yelp when she noticed that which they were hiding.

Her eyes were fully green, as if she were a cat.

But by this point, she could hardly remain surprised for long. She had just been talking about hunting supervillains with the tiny, magical creature which was now hiding in her horseshoe, after all.

“What in Tartarus is going on tonight?” Giya whispered as she turned to the side, glancing over her new suit. It was plain and simple, lacking in any adornments aside from the small belt which wrapped around her waist. Off of it a tri-blade boomerang hung. It was silver in colour, just like the horseshoe, but the leopard print splotches on it were all bunched up around the middle.

A second scream rang out, and in that instant Giya suddenly felt a cascade of courage the likes of which was enough—overwhelmingly so—to make all four of her strong legs unsteady. The power that she felt…

Giya trotted to the window and threw it open, revelling in the cool breeze which hit her in the face. The slightly salty air rejuvenated her, making her stand taller and flick her tail happily. But she had a job to do; that much was obvious, what with her supposedly being a superhero now. It was as such that she hopped up onto the window frame and took a long, deep breath before jumping out into the garden.

She acted as if on instinct, her body somehow knowing just what she was meant to do. In one fluid motion she flung her head back to grab the tri-blade boomerang just as she broke into a heavy gallop, then taking it from her mouth so that she held it in her forehoof. With a powerful push from her hindlegs she leapt into the air and began to spin it as fast as she could; she hadn't known what to expect, but it was undeniably the right idea. Indeed, such a hunch was proven when the boomerang’s blades flashed a bright white and gave off a small pulse of light, after which she was sent zooming up into the night sky.

She tumbled on the light breeze, her own shrill scream merging with the increasingly loud cries of the ponies she was—supposedly—tasked with saving. Her heart thundered in her chest and she flailed about in the air, kicking her back legs wildly. She was an earth pony, not a pegasus; she wasn't meant to be up here!

She stopped spinning the boomerang not long after and gasped for air when she crashed back down to the ground. It was not a huge fall, but it was a good ten metres at least. Maybe more, even. Whatever the case, she couldn't help the whimper and sniffle that escaped her from the twinge.

She rose to her hooves slowly and eyed the boomerang which now lay on the floor, eyes narrowed. She walked forwards cautiously, careful with each hoofstep so as not to make her body ache any more, and picked it up with as gentle a force as she could. With it held in her hoof, once again, she then rose into a rear so that she was stood upright. She tentatively spun it once.

Again came the brief flash of white light, and Giya so nearly lost her nerve at the sight of it. But she gritted her teeth so that they squeaked and pressed her ears against her neck, as if doing so would release some of her tension. She then spun it again, once, twice, thrice. As she did so magic poured from it, encasing her body as she began to float upwards.

No, no! Enough! She bit back a yelp as she immediately ceased the spinning, falling back to the ground. She couldn't do it! There was no way—

A massive scream sounded, louder than any of the others. It was in that moment that Giya’s blood ran cold and her muscles stiffened, for that was a cry she had heard many times. Usually of excitement, not terror, but there could still be no denying it; it was the scream of none other than her best friend.

She had to do this. She would never make it to Chisana on hoof—it was at least a mile away, but perhaps more—but she was the only one who could save them. And the only means to get there was to go directly—which meant she had to fly.

“Breathe. Breathe, Giya.”

She hardly had time to pause before her forehooves began mechanically turning the tri-blade boomerang. Her body jolted from the floor and she screamed as she was thrown around uncontrollably, but she couldn’t waste time in hesitating. Instead she ground her teeth and closed her eyes and sent out a silent plea to the Gods, praying that one might hear her. She then spun the boomerang faster and tilted it slightly. It took all of her strength to squint open her eyes and not cry out again when the magic threw her to the side.

It was like nothing she had ever felt before, she soon realised. She was only a few metres above the ground, if that, but the cool nips of the wind against her underbelly made her shudder and each little tickle from water—individual droplets carried on the late night breeze from the sea—sent tingles down her spine. With each second that passed she felt her heart rate steady and level off and her body, too, relaxed. Her rear legs hung limp below her as she spun the boomerang slowly in her forehooves. A moment later, when a sudden rush of confidence flushed through her, a strong grin appeared on her face.

She tilted the boomerang ever so slightly and yelped as she was jerked backwards. Returning it to the horizontal position, she took a deep breath and then adjusted it slightly once more so that she slowly, slowly crept forwards; when a small gust of wind licked at her side, instinct seemed to kick in. Only a small flick of the hoof was needed to keep her creeping in the same direction, only slightly thrown off course. It was a success which made her laugh with glee and made her eyes suddenly darker, bolder, stronger. And, without even having to think about it, she put in a single, stronger spin and shot forwards and up, not quite steady but in control enough to laugh with newfound confidence.

---

“Some tea, sir?”

Dato nodded his head once, but did not immediately answer. Instead, with his short tail tucked between his legs—as it so often was—he walked over to the already crackling fireplace at the opposite side of the room. There, he sat down on the large fur rug which waited for him, already set up by a servant with all of his record-keeping books and quills, and folded his hooves beneath him. A small smile graced his face as he did so, the warmth from the flames falling over his body in a blanket of calming orange light. He then smiled at the small filly who stood in the doorway.

“That would be much appreciated, Kalaro,” he said. When his attention was then forced to business, however, his cheerfulness vanished.

The space was dark and cold, not like most houses on the island; the thick stone walls which kept out the blazing heat were a sign of his family’s wealth. It was the ancestral house, after all. And that fact was constantly forced down upon him, and upon anypony who dared step hoof in the house; there was a sense of grandeur about every room, from the dining halls to the kitchens to the servants’ quarters. There was to be no escaping it, for sure.

More than once Dato had found himself pitying the poor unicorn elite of Canterlot, living out their—presumably miserable—days on the mainland. Though he did not care for the unicorns’ laziness—it was a trait all earth ponies despised—he could always sympathise with their situations. His house, though akin to a castle or temple by the island’s standards, was supposedly a mere mud hut in comparison to the mansions over there. It was hard to imagine, but undeniably true. Dato had seen firsthoof how overdressed many of his clients were, and many of those were merely the not-so-rich middlemares as opposed to the actual businessponies who controlled vast trade empires. It must have been awful for them.

But then again, maybe not. He let his mind wander back to how Platinum Bit had conducted herself earlier and snorted. She certainly wasn't as displeased with her situation as he was. And then there were those lucky ponies like the farmers and the blacksmiths, only just getting by but at least doing something they loved. They played games together at night, chatted by day, and generally led happy lives. Oh, how he longed for such simplicity; they never appreciated how lucky they were.

But he had work to do. With a grumble he reached out with a hoof and began to pull the first heavy record book towards him, his leg brushing against the soft fabric of the scarf. He had forgotten he had been wearing it, actually—a fact which he would not be doing again, it seemed, considering the glower which rested on the little face floating before him.

“Sheesh!” the little pamilya cried as it shook itself so that its fur stood on end. It then wetted a paw with its tongue and smoothed the hair back down, its tail flicking to and fro all the while. Its eyes, the darkest shade of chocolate brown imaginable, followed Dato without fail. “Do you realise how stuffy it is in that scarf, hiding from that slave of yours?”

Dato’s ears fell and his teeth ground together. “None of my staff are slaves,” he bit back. “They are servants; I pay them for their work. I would never stoop so low as to—”

The pamilya rolled its eyes and held up its forelegs. “Slaves, servants, it doesn't matter to me,” it said. It then plopped down on the floor, kneading its tiny stomach with an equally small paw. A low rumble could be heard. “Ugh. I thought you were gonna order me something garlic-y?”

Dato fiddled with the feather of the quill between his teeth. “You told me to get you some garlic,” he interjected, his voice flat and emotionless. “I never agreed.”

“Whatever. I need some garlic, ‘cos as much as it pains me to say this, you have work to do.”

Dato sighed and hung his head, the nib of the quill then falling into the ink. He drew it out slowly and then flipped the book open, turning a few parchment-like sheets quickly. When he pressed the tip to the paper, though, he found the numbers and words would simply not come to him. He drew back and tried again. Once more he could only make a single splodge of ink.

The pamilya laughed. When Dato let out a held breath and turned to frown at him, however, the sight of it rolling on its little back in mid-air brought a small, rare smile to his muzzle. He put the quill down quickly and sat straighter. “You mentioned that I have work to do?” he prompted, pulling the little red panda closer to him. It ceased its chortling to stare at him with a large, barely contained grin. Its eyes were dark brown, not so unlike Dato’s own, but somehow they seemed to shine brightly in the dark room all the same when it nodded.

“I sure did,” it said before it folded its paws over its tiny chest. “Don’t like it, though, ‘cos it tires me out so bad.”

“And what, exactly, is this ‘it’ you speak of?”

The pamilya shrugged and looked to the wall. It then floated up into the air and looked about, as if lost. “Ugh. It’s very dark in here, y’know? Where’re the windows?” It snorted. “I mean, why have you got these walls anyway? This island is so hot normally, or at least, that’s how I remember it. But, I guess lots of stuff changes when you skip centuries, but—”

Dato coughed quietly. “You were telling me wha—wait. Skip centuries? You can’t be saying…”

The pamilya nodded quickly. Its tail flicked contentedly and grinned, revealing two tiny—but lethally sharp—teeth on the bottom of his mouth. “Sure. I’m a centuries-old god, you mortal peasant!” it cried, throwing its paws out dramatically. Dato snorted, and the little pamilya winked. “Well, the centuries old bit’s correct. The god part… well, I grant magical powers, which is pretty much the same. And with that scarf of yours I, Luku, the pamilya of destruction, shall transform you into the stallion of legend: Ailurus!”

Dato sniffed the scarf around his neck once. “I appreciate the offer,” he began, “but I struggle to see it. Prove it to me. Give me these powers of yours.”

Luku rubbed his eyes slowly and yawned. With his tiny paws, he then placed one on his forehead and fell back so that he lay on his back, his chest rising and falling over-dramatically. He let his eyes slip shut and kept them closed momentarily; he opened them slowly once before they closed once again.

“Oh, my poor, aching stomach!” he cried, his paw now rubbing the jet black fur of his underbelly. A small whimper escaped him. “I wish I could help you, Dato, but I simply have eaten nothing—nothing—for hundreds and hundreds of years! I hardly have the energy left in me to open my heavy, heavy eyes… To transform you? Why, it might kill me!”

Dato let out a breath. “Right,” he murmured before he pushed himself up onto his hooves. With the rear, he knocked the books out of the way—just as some shrill sound caught his attention. His ears pricked and swivelled immediately but, aside from that, he did not move. Rather, he let his gaze trail upwards to the ceiling and he snorted quietly, before he attempted to continue on his way. He was stopped, though, by the little pamilya when it zipped in front of him, hovering in midair with a suddenly panicked scowl on its face.

“Well, heck,” he whispered to himself. “Lumi’s gonna kill me…”

Dato took a short step backwards. “What?” he grunted, his tail slightly flagged in surprise.

“Nothing, nothing!” Luku hastily cried, his tiny paws waving in front of his face. “I’ll have to just suffer in silence for now. There's no time to explain though! Just say ‘rings on’, and I’ll transform you! You’ll know what to do from there—but your power, destruction, is only good for one shot. So make it count, got it?”

Dato shook his head. “You told me I'd be popular if I did this. How is destruction going to help ponies accept me?”

Luku grumbled and fiddled with his claws. “It's not the power, mate,” he said, head shaking. “It's what you do with it that makes you a good pony, right?”

Dato was quiet. The outside world, however, was not; the air was pierced suddenly by a chorus of screams. And in that instant, Dato knew what to do.

Such exhilaration hadn't flowed through his veins in many a year. Dato chortled, a rare sound, and stood taller than before, his usually-hunched back complaining at the action which it had forgotten it could do. With his nose to the ceiling, he reared up. His forehooves struck through the air. And, before doubt could settle in his mind, he closed his eyes and yelled, “Luku! Rings on!”

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

So... Who is Hawk Moth?

[Aeluna]

8275616
That detail, my friend, is to come later :D