Mind and Matter

by Sixes_And_Sevens

In Memoriam

“Are you sitting comfortably?” Screwball asked.

"No," Celestia said, petulant.

The five of them were floating in a pure white void. Mentiad was slowly spinning in the air, his legs tucked tight to his barrel as he desperately tried to regain his bearings. Celestia hung upside down in the air, her mane and tail spread out behind her like a firework in slow motion. Sunset and Twilight held onto one another, and Screwball was just floating calmly, sitting on nothing at all. “Good," she said. "Then I’ll begin.

“Once, Equestria was ruled by an entire pantheon of deities, both lawful and chaotic. There were thirteen of us -- unlucky thirteen, I suppose, although the goddesses of Fate and Chance were so seldom around that it was really closer to eleven.

“We ruled together in a state of relative peace for a period of some three thousand years. Occasionally a few of us would die and be reborn -- yes, gods may die, although it takes a great deal of effort to make it stick -- and sometimes, a few of us would go rogue. Once, a few of us took up piracy -- ah, but that's another story. There were periods of upheaval and periods of relative status quo, but somehow we all made it work.

“And then Amore vanished."

Celestia dipped her head at that.

“She was the one you know now as Princess Cadence," Screwball continued. "Her disappearance was strange for a number of reasons. First, it’s usually quite obvious when an alicorn dies. They tend not to go quietly, as it were. Second, she didn’t seem to want to return -- Omega, the god of death, never collected her soul, nor did ORB, the god of the afterlife, ever process her on the other side.

“As you might expect, this was… upsetting news. She had vanished from her Crystal Empire in the frozen north, and suspicions obviously fell on the noble family who took over from her, but nothing could ever be proven. They seemed as heartbroken as any other about the disappearance, and did everything in their power to find her again. King Obsidian passed some decade later, and his son, Sombra, took the throne. I’m sure you’re aware of what happened after that, at least in the rough."

"We were fools not to investigate further," Mentiad muttered. "If we had found out the truth before it all kicked off --"

"We did the best we could," Screwball said firmly. “Anyway, Celestia and Luna led the assault against the Empire. Harlequin, the deity of desire, aided where they could, and the rest of the gods took up the slack maintaining the rest of the world.

“It is here that we must pause and zoom in on one particular scene of the campaign against the Crystal Empire. Celestia, with your permission, I'd like to view your memories, for... historical context."

Celestia looked around at Screwball, patiently waiting. At Mentiad, slowly spinning. At her two former students, scrutinizing her, waiting for a reply.

"... Very well," she said, nodding her assent.

Images began to form out of the vast emptiness, forming a scene around the assembled deities. Canvas walls, frozen ground, a table at the center.

"I remember this," Celestia murmured, as figures began to form around the table. "I called the meeting to prepare for the end of the war..."

---

The winds blew cold and bitter against the walls of the tent. The scene inside was tense. Three figures sat around a table; a pale alicorn with a pink and yellow striped mane, a dark blue alicorn with stars that floated around her, and a chimerical creature that was less easy to describe.

"Who is that?" Twilight asked.

Eir head was that of a hyena. Eir torso was muscular and clad in a form-fitting leotard patterned with diamonds, diamonds which broke off at the waist and floated in a miasma where eir legs ought to have been. Ey had the paw of a chimp for eir right hand, and eir left was merely a grasping tentacle.

"Eir name was Harlequin," Screwball said. "The draconequus of desire. Ey were... I suppose you could call em a 'fixer'. Ey granted wishes."

Harlequin sat at the table with an intensity in eir glowing pink eyes that belied eir jester’s costume.

“So,” ey said. Eir voice was rough, with a hint of a Boston accent at the edges. “Uh, what’s happening? Do you need, like… better siege weapons? More rations? Armor? Just the standard order?”

“...No,” said Luna. “There is… something more we must ask of you.”

“I can’t risk mobilizing Wrath, if that’s what you’re asking,” Harlequin warned. “This close to the Empire’s emotional amplification, it would be a bloodbath. With the crystal the way it is, even Sloth’s presence would give both sides a nap they’d never wake from.”

“No,” said Celestia. “We would not ask that of you.”

“Would that it were only that,” Luna muttered.

Harlequin shifted uncomfortably in eir seat. “Then what?”

“We have decided --” Celestia began.

Luna coughed.

“I have decided, and Luna has decided not to argue,” Celestia corrected, “that what we need is a symbol to rally behind. There needs to be an end goal beyond Sombra’s defeat -- a new ruler of the Empire.”

Harlequin brightened. “A new dynastic line, you mean? Ah, you’ve come to the right concubus. Who needs seducing?”

“We weren’t thinking of a new lineage,” Celestia said. “Rather… the old one.”

Harlequin deflated. “Amore.”

“Yes.”

Ey sucked in air through eir teeth. “You realize this is more ORB’s domain than mine.”

“He’s no help,” Celestia said. “Even if he were, he’d be looking to get something out of it. You, on the other hand… you’d do it just for Amore’s sake.”

“I might refuse,” Harlequin said, crossing eir limbs over eir chest.

“Will you?” Celestia asked, without rancor.

There was a prolonged silence. “...No,” ey admitted. “But it’ll still come at a price. Even if it’s not charged to me, nothing ever comes free.”

“I can accept that,” Celestia said.

“Then… your wish is my command,” Harlequin said, rising from the table. “Just don’t expect it to be quick. Or easy. I’ve got some rumors to follow up on.”

Ey exited the tent. Celestia followed not long after. Only Luna remained in the tent, staring a hole in the table.

---

"I suppose you have something to say about all this?" Celestia said, looking at Mentiad. "You never were one to let go of an argument."

"Oh, don't worry," Screwball interjected. "We'll get to that."

"...What happened to Harlequin?" Sunset asked.

“Oh, ey did get to the bottom of the mystery in the end,” Screwball said as the scene faded back to white. “Amore had been transmuted into pure crystal, by a spell that had been burned from the public record by Harlequin emself, many centuries before. Then, she had been shattered and her pieces scattered. Harlequin spent a year and a day fitting them back together. That was the easy part. Then came the matter of bringing something back to life that had never truly died, which was the difficult part.

“I know nothing of the ritual ey performed to do it beyond that it resulted in the banishment of death itself from the universe for one singular moment. For a moment, all was life and all was eternal, and Harlequin plunged a knife into Amore’s crystal heart. And at last, she was able to pass away. Her last words were of gratitude for her freedom, or at least that’s how Harlequin told it.

“But ey had spoken true when they told Celestia of the cost. ORB and Omega were lost, banished to their own realms in the same moment death had abated from the universe, and were unable to return. Harlequin emself was severely weakened by eir efforts and slowly faded from the physical world, promising that ey would still help to win the war from the inside -- whatever that meant. Ey haven’t been heard from since, so far as I know, so I don’t think anyone’s asked em to clarify.

“Cadence was born quite unexpectedly to a polyamorous triad in Maredrid -- Harlequin’s ritual had accelerated the process somewhat, it seemed, because she grew to full term in just over a month. Her birth was celebrated, but not all was well. My par was horrified at the cost of what had been done. They became angrier, less trusting, most of all toward Celestia, whom they regarded -- not without cause -- as the architect of their loss. Mentiad and I were able to pacify them for a time, but the goddesses of Friendship and Magic were curiously absent. So, the three of us went to pay them a visit. Mentiad, I'd like to look through your memories to get a more complete vision of the affair."

Mentiad winced. "You could just use your own," he said.

"I will. But two memories are more comprehensive than one."

After a moment of thought, the alicorn nodded slowly. "Alright. Let's get this over with," he said, and shapes began to form from the aether once again.

---

There is a place where the stars always shine, where it is always warm and a fire ever-burns in the hearth. There is a house on a cliff overlooking a vast and trackless sea, a house that can always be called home. This is the domain of the alicorn of Friendship and the draconequus of Redemption, and the home of their coterie, the Elements of Harmony. Vespertine and Amity, the goddesses of Magic, had lived here and loved here almost since their ascension.

As Discord, Screwball, and Mentiad approached, it was clear that there was something terribly wrong. The smoke from the chimney had dwindled to a slim trickle, and clouds were beginning to hide the stars. The mist hung heavy on the sea, and all three deities felt cold and damp.

“The lights are on,” Mentiad said hopefully.

Discord stroked their goatee. “But nopony’s home,” they said darkly. “No sound, no movement… nothing.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Screwball warned. “Par, you check around back. Mentiad and I will search inside.”

They found no life. A pie sat on the windowsill, but it had long since gone cold. Books and tools and things lay scattered around the house, as though their users had just walked away for a moment to deal with something more urgent. The apiary around the back had fallen silent, abandoned by its bees.

And there were the spheres. They hovered in the air, glowing with colorful lights. All three gods present knew them on sight to be the Elements of Harmony as they had originally been -- mere instruments of the will of the Tree of Harmony, with no will or intelligence of their own. Now, though, it seemed that not even the Tree was acting through them. All six floated throughout the house -- Honesty coming up from the cellar, Laughter in the kitchen, Loyalty in the shower, Generosity by the bookshelves, Kindness out on the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea.

Vespertine herself was once more reduced to the mere Element of Magic, left floating by her beloved telescope.

Amity had never been an Element herself -- she had been the pony who had given them sentience, yes, and a conscience, but she had no shell into which to retreat. It was Mentiad who realized why the fire was still smoldering even after so long unattended, and he pulled out the egg of a phoenix from the ashes and kindling.

They all sat for awhile in the still and silent parlor, the remains of the Elements hovering around the edges of the room while the last remains of Amity lay on the coffee table. After about fifteen minutes, Discord snapped their talons and vanished.

“We…” Screwball said, her voice cracking with the sorrow. “We should go after them.”

Mentiad nodded dully. “And… and we should take all of them with us.”

“...Should we?” Screwball asked. “It seems disrespectful.”

Mentiad rose. “We owe respect to the living, not the dead” he said shortly, blinking rapidly to clear away the tears in his eyes. “The Elements are powerful. If they can end the war early -- if they can save even one life -- I think that’s what they would have wanted.”

Screwball nodded slowly. “I suppose they would have.”

---

The scene faded as the two gods of the mind gathered up the Elements to take back to the real world.

"Vespertine and Amity..." Twilight said slowly. "They were... Sunset and me?"

Screwball nodded.

Sunset turned to glare at Celestia. "And when exactly were you going to tell us this?"

Celestia glanced away. "Your memories would have eventually started to return. Then, I would have explained."

"But why wait?" Sunset pressed. "Those were our lives! You never said --"

"I didn't want you to live in their shadows," Celestia said. "You are your own ponies. Vespertine and Amity are long dead now -- only echoes of them remain. I didn't want you to feel there were horseshoes that you were at all obliged to fill."

She glowered at Screwball. "At least, that was the plan."

"They have a right to know," Mentiad said, quite unexpectedly. "You might worry for what they'll do with that information, but that doesn't make it right to keep it from them."

"You would say that," Celestia muttered.

"Well, we know now," Twilight said firmly. "No matter what any of us think, the cat's out of the bag, and I can panic about the philosophical implications of all this later."

Celestia gestured to Twilight. "See? I was expressly trying to avoid putting her through that!"

“Of course," Screwball continued as though Celestia hadn't spoken, "before the Elements could be used in battle, they had to be used against my Par. I wouldn’t -- couldn’t -- not against them. But I knew it needed to be done. Par had been twisted by their anger, devoting themselves to tearing down Celestia’s rule without regard for what deserved reform and what was keeping the world turning on its axis. I understand why the three of them did what they did, and I didn’t stop them. I forgive you both, and Luna too."

Mentiad dipped his head, though nopony could tell if it was in thanks, in regret, or both. Celestia gave a short nod. "I appreciate that, Screwball. Thank you."

“Mentiad bore Honesty and Laughter into battle. Luna took Loyalty and Generosity. Celestia had Kindness and Magic. They turned my parent to stone. Not long after that, I left this universe. I had had enough. Mentiad was spending more and more time brooding in his realm. Celestia and Luna… got on with winning the war, I suppose. I wasn’t there. I don’t have the details. I’m hoping the two of us who were there can fill in some of the gaps on Mentiad’s apparent final retirement.”

There was a long pause.

At length, Mentiad spoke, his voice brittle. "Alright, then."

"You'll be biased," Celestia said.

"And you won't?"

She said nothing to that.

"Together, then," Twilight said.

Mentiad hesitated, but Celestia raised her head high and nodded. "Very well, then. Screwball, you may do the honors. Open up our memories, and let us see what we may make of them."

Mentiad sighed. "... I suppose it was too much to hope that I'd never have to think about those days again," he said. "Alright."

Once more, shapes formed from the blank spaces around them, revealing the shape of a castle parapet.

---

Night was falling over Canterlot. The Royal Sisters stood together, watching the sun set. Neither spoke, not knowing what to say to one another. This was just what they did now, and what they had done every night since their return to the castle.

There was a flash of blue light from the other end of the balcony. Luna sniffed subtly. Ozone. “Prince Mentiad. It has been long since we last saw thee.”

“Yes. It has, rather,” the smaller alicorn said.

He was in one of his sullen moods again, Celestia noted. “We are glad of thy company, Prince of Knowledge.”

“Are you indeed. I suppose the company of our peers is getting rather hard to come by of late.”

Luna stiffened and internally, Celestia sighed. “Mentiad, you know perfectly well that Screwball left of her own volition.”

“I’d argue that watching her progenitor be turned into a statue puts a pretty big asterisk on that remark,” Mentiad returned.

“If you have come here only to rabble-rouse, perhaps you had better return to your studies,” Luna said, scowling at the grey alicorn.

“Oh, I will, momentarily,” Mentiad said, trotting to look out over the city below. “But as you said, it’s been too long since we last spoke. How have the two of you been, hm?”

“Well enough,” Celestia said.

“Fine,” Luna said.

Mentiad waited a moment. “Are you not going to ask me how I have been?”

“Why ask when we already know the answer?” Luna challenged.

“Testy,” Mentiad muttered. “Are you sure that final strike on the Crystal Empire didn’t--”

“We are fine,” Luna growled.

Celestia placed a restraining hoof on her sister’s withers. “Peace, Luna. He means well.”

Mentiad snorted. “You know, I think that might be the unkindest thing you’ve ever said about me, Celestia.”

Celestia raised a brow. “Oh? How so?”

“Meaning well is the last refuge of unjustifiable actions, save perhaps for 'only following orders'. You meant well when you besieged the Crystal Empire. You meant well when you took Discord to task. You meant well setting Harlequin against ORB and Omega.”

“And what would you have had me do?” Celestia challenged. “Let Amore stay in limbo forever?”

“Considering the outcome, yes,” Mentiad snapped, rounding on the sisters.

Luna pulled away from Celestia. “You dare?”

“There were other ways of restoring her. Safer ways, albeit slower. But because you couldn’t wait, we’ll not see Omega again anytime soon. Nor will we see ORB, nor Harlequin emself, come to that! And remind me, how much good did your precious little Cadenza do against the corruption of the Crystal Empire? Did you ever even make use of her gifts?”

“You wouldn’t suggest we take a baby to the front lines of a war zone, surely?” Celestia asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” Mentiad snapped. “But then, why bother to resurrect her early at all? Did you intend to install her as the heir apparent when the day was won? Go from a deranged, homicidal tyrant to a babbling baby? It’s almost as well that the Empire did disappear!”

Luna gasped.

“Hold your tongue,” Celestia said quietly.

“Or what?” Mentiad demanded. “No, seriously, what will you do? Petrify me? Kill me on the spot? Banish me to the realms beyond reality? I really can’t think of anything you could do to me that you haven’t done to one of my friends already.”

“Our friends.”

“Were they?”

Celestia flinched as though struck. Luna had had enough. She lunged for the grey alicorn, but he blocked her with a shield spell. “Are you sure about this, Lulu?” he demanded with a manic grin. “After me, it’s only you and your sister left.”

“You forget Chrona,” Celestia said.

“She hasn’t even been born yet!” Mentiad snapped. “She won’t even tell us her real name, or show us her true face. Hardly a ‘friend’ by any definition.”

“Really? Bold words, given how close the two of you have grown. How close we all were, once.”

Mentiad took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Quite right. I apologize. I spoke recklessly.”

“Very recklessly,” Luna said, still glaring daggers through the shield spell.

Mentiad turned and looked out over the balcony again, letting his gaze linger on the petrified figure of Discord in the royal gardens. “It is only us three left,” he said quietly. “The two of you lasted this long by standing by one another at all times. I managed only by sequestering myself. Some kind of irony there, I’m sure.”

“Did you have a point, Mentiad?” Celestia asked.

“The time of gods is over,” he said shortly. “Screwball had the right idea, leaving before she was locked away, or destroyed, or banished. I intend to follow her lead.”

Celestia bowed her head. Luna scowled. “You would be so selfish as to reduce our numbers once more?”

“Yes. You would be wise to do the same. Retire to your realms, maintain the heavens from there, let the populace govern itself rather than be wracked by the squabbles of higher beings.”

“You know full well that we cannot,” Luna said.

“I know that you will not,” Mentiad replied. “But very well. I have said my piece. There is nothing more that I may do. I hope that someday, after years of studying, I will decide to return. Forget why I ever left. Perhaps then, the world will be steady enough for the presence of alicorns and draconocci. Until then…” he trailed off, thoughtful.

Luna snorted. “You intend to order us about now, of all times?”

“Not order. Merely request.” Mentiad turned to face the sisters. “Take care of Cadance. If there was ever friendship between us, keep her safe. Power corrupts. The power of an alicorn can corrupt utterly. Remember that, both of you.”

His shield spell folded in upon itself in fractal patterns, and Mentiad was gone. Celestia took a deep, shuddering breath. “Well,” she said flatly. “With that, I believe I shall turn in.”

Luna said nothing. Her eyes were shut tight as she breathed in short, heavy pants. She stayed in that position for several minutes after Celestia departed. When her eyes snapped open once more, they glowed a baleful turquoise shade, with slit pupils as dark as a starless night.

---

The glow of memory faded from the eyes of the assembled, leaving them all standing back in the streets. Celestia slumped to the ground, her mane fading back to softer blues and greens. "And there you have it. The argument that started it all. Mentiad's final visit... it turned her against me. From that day on, she started avoiding me, questioning my every decision, and flying into increasingly violent outbursts. Mentiad was the catalyst for it all."

“Me?” Mentiad demanded. “From what I gathered, it was the aftermath of the attack on the Crystal Empire that did it. A fragment of the Nightmare got into her system.”

“And you activated it! I had been trying to keep her calm and rested for months, giving her space to work out her aggressions. More than ever, we needed to trust in one another. You drove a wedge between us!”

“No,” Twilight said softly. “I think you did that, Celestia.”

Celestia went stiff. “I… no. I don't deny I should have addressed her jealousy against my day, but --”

“You ignored her misgivings about the restoration of Amore,” Sunset said. “Because of that decision, her support network was annihilated.”

“Mentiad’s recriminations certainly didn’t help the situation,” Twilight allowed. “But to me, it looked like there was a wedge between you well before then. Or didn’t you think it was strange how distant the two of you were acting after the war?”

“I…” Celestia’s mane dimmed and sagged. “I… didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to remember. Not any of it. I suppose… Mentiad, in his absence, was just a convenient scapegoat."

She let out a long breath, and turned to look at the grey alicorn. "I owe you an apology, Mentiad. I've been blaming you all these years in hopes that... that it might not all have been my fault.”

Mentiad rubbed his cheek, thoughtful, then nodded slowly. “I suppose I can relate to just wanting to forget,” he said. “But I think that we’ve all just learned that it’s far more constructive to forgive. And... I suppose that it's only fair that I shoulder some of the blame too, for leaving you in the lurch. I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me?”

Celestia nodded slightly and gave a faint smile. "That seems more than fair."

“Great, glad I could help,” Screwball said. “Now can you please help me find Screwloose with your all-seeing eye magic?”

“Oh!” Mentiad said. “Right, yes.” He stared into space. Phantasmal eyes shimmered, barely visible, like a heat haze around his body. “She… met another dog today and wanted to play with him. She’s at his house now, playing tug-of-war in the backyard. It’s on a hill to the southeast.”

Screwball breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Nyarlathotep. And thank you, too.” She grinned. “It’s good to have you back, Mentiad.”

She hesitated for a moment, then pulled him into a tight, brief hug. Then she was off, running toward Octavia’s home.

Mentiad blinked dumbly after her. Then, he smiled slowly. “You know,” he said. “I think… I think it’s good to be back.”

There was the sound of a throat being cleared, and Cheerilee pushed her way past Sunset to glare at Mentiad. “So, about that hole in my schoolhouse,” she said.

“Ah,” said Mentiad. “Oops.”

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

It feels a bit too neat for Celestia to let go of a millennium-old grudge so easily... but when it's the literal Goddess of Friendship providing the argument, I can understand it. In any case, with this dispute resolved, Twilight and Sunset both have a lot to unpack and a home to refurbish. And Celestia may need to prepare some more apologies. I can only hope the rest of the pantheon will be as willing to listen.

[Shilic]

Well, that certainly was an interesting loredump/impromptu therapy session. Worldbuilding away!

Screwball breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Nyarlathotep."

Nobody should ever thank Nyarlathotep for anything, bad Screwball.

[Sixes_And_Sevens]

10679854
Nyarlathotep Did Nothing Wrong

[Shilic]

10680442
There's a certain fittingness to using that specific joke format, considering the specific iteration of the Crawling Chaos that always comes to my mind first.