Prologue: Disappearance
Prologue: Disappearance
Vellum jolted awake to the sound of thunder. Wind buffeted his face, ruining his once well-groomed mane, sweeping the black strands backwards into an unruly mess; the flying chariot he passengered was open to the night sky and offered no protection from the elements.
Out of his jacket, the unicorn levitated a watch. A flash of lightning reflected off the glass, briefly allowing a reading. Two hours had passed since the flight to Canterlot had departed from Manehattan.
Stretching and loosening his joints, Vellum steadily got to his hooves and peered over the heads of the gold clad pegasi pulling the chariot. Through the darkness he could almost make out the lights of Canterlot Castle glowing in the distance.
Photographs usually framed the castle majestically against the mountain, a shining beacon with the sun hanging above in all its glory. Now the gathered thunderclouds and intermittent flares of lightning gave it an ominous air; the pouring rain accorded the architecture’s white, gold and purple color scheme a washed-out appearance. The palace hung off the peak like a great fungus clinging to a dead tree.
Noticing the burly drivers were steering towards the tempest, Vellum nervously clutched the brass railing running along the chariot’s frame as pellets of water started pattering against his gray fur.
“Sergeant!” he called out to the white coated soldier heading up his escort. “Are you sure flying into the storm is safe?”
Sun Runner’s turned his head slightly to address his passenger. “Don’t worry, Professor,” the guard bellowed over the thunderous din. Rivulets of water ran down his helmet, but he didn’t appear bothered. “We’re trained to handle all sorts of weather. Snow, rain, hail, doesn’t matter. There’s a rain slicker in back; if you’re worried about getting wet.”
Vellum quickly opened a compartment bolted to the carriage’s frame, and found the canary yellow raincoat folded and crammed between other emergency sundries. Worn over his blue suit, it clashed horribly with his slate gray fur. Nevertheless, the last thing he needed was to arrive before the Princess soaking wet; his wife would never let him hear the end of it. Luckily, his saddlebags were enchanted to repel water, so he didn’t worry about the expedition’s notes being damaged.
Seeing the storm gather strength, the historian was reminded of an old pegasus proverb. “Dark clouds, dark omens,” he recited.
“What’s that, Professor?” asked the other the other pegasus, overhearing his utterance as they flew through a quiet patch.
“Old saying from the pre-classical period,” the historian explained. “Pegasi avoided gatherings during periods of stormy weather. They considered it bad luck, dooming any endeavor discussed.”
“Sounds like ponies believed in a lot of superstitious nonsense back then. How can a storm be bad luck when we control when and where it happens? Were they really so gullible?” Pike scoffed, earning a swat to the head from his partner, and causing the chariot to wobble. Vellum squeaked and immediately wrapped his hooves around the rail again.
“Don’t speak ill of your ancestors, Private. Ever heard of a thing called lightning? That’s bad luck if you get struck by it!”
Pike rolled his eyes and quietly grumbled something about lightning strikes in relation to his superior’s privates.
“It’s important to remember,” continued the professor while ignoring the guards’ bickering, “that pegasi didn’t have as much control over the skies as they do now. Cloud industrialization didn’t ex—.”
Sun Runner cut him off with a raise of a hoof.
“Please hold on, Professor. We’ll be swinging round to a bay reserved for VIPs. Once there, we’ll escort you to Her Highness.”
With practiced ease, the chariot team skillfully weaved through the tempest, maneuvering towards the palace.
Vellum trotted between Sun Runner and Pike with some trepidation, their hoofbeats echoing down the dimly lit hallway. Icy drops that had avoided the rain slicker raised the hair on the back of the professor’s neck. It wasn’t the pervading darkness that made him nervous; his profession often required him to investigate dark places.
The portraits of Princess Celestia lining the walls seemed to lighten the hall by themselves—a reflection of their subject, Vellum supposed. He noticed that, while each painting displayed the Princess in clothing from different periods— ranging from intricate dresses with ridiculously large skirts to full plate armor—her face bore the same enigmatic smile. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, Vellum found her expression disingenuous.
Beams of moonlight usually shone through the hall’s large arc windows, but tonight, angry clouds drifted overhead and blocked them. Candles held in sconces provided scant illumination, wax running low. Intermittent flashes of lightning elongated the trio’s shadows and provided brief glimpses of ornate double doors flanked by guards at the end of the corridor.
“This doesn’t look like the way to the throne room. It’s different than I remember seeing it as a colt,” the academic thought aloud, looking around curiously as they approached the sentries. Most children came to Equestria’s capital at least once during their school years on field trips. From those days, he remembered large open spaces, statues, petitioners herding about in waiting areas, robed functionaries rushing to complete the day’s work...
“I recall a tour guide mentioning the castle’s most recent renovation included gas lighting,” he continued, glancing at the candle holders.
“True, but Her Highness prefers to maintain an air of antiquity in this section of the palace,” answered the sergeant. “Here’s where we part ways, Professor; Her Highness’s private throne room, specially reserved for confidential meetings.” He threw a crisp winged salute to the soldiers facing them.
“These two or their replacements will return you home. Good luck with your audience, Professor. I doubt we'll be seeing each other again.”
Before Vellum could ponder the sergeant's odd choice of words, he was jostled by a purple filly leaving the chamber; she wasn’t watching where she was going due to the oversized book blocking her vision. Muttering apologies, and escorted by the retreating guards, she vanished down the darkened hallway.
“Please come in, Professor. I have been expecting you.” A serene voice called from within, drawing his attention back towards the chamber. Her motherly tone did little to ease the butterflies in his stomach. This was beyond presenting a paper to be judged by a panel of stuffy academics; this was the sovereign of all Equestria herself.
Taking a calming breath, he wiped his brow with a hoofkerchief. No need to fly off the handle, Vellum. It’s Princess Celestia, for Faust’s sake. There’s nopony kinder than she is. You’re being silly, he scolded himself, feeling foolish for his earlier nervousness. After all, a small child had just left Her Highness’s company. After running a hoof through his mane and straightening his tie one last time, the stallion entered, closing the great door behind him.
Hours passed and the sun rose at its normal time. The changing of the guard occurred without incident. Oddly, nopony reported Vellum exiting the room.
Earlier that evening
A copper pot of bubbling stew simmered on the stove, spreading wisps of steam and the heady aroma of cooked vegetables throughout the small kitchen. Willow Wind took it in with a satisfied sigh as she adjusted the flavor, tasting it with a ladle, and adding seasonings as needed. Her pink apron protected her light lilac coat from splatter, and a rose-colored handkerchief kept dark lilac curls out of her eyes. The apron strings accentuated the bulge of an expecting mother, but left her cutie mark bare: a trio of green leaves blowing in the wind.
Opening a window, Willow could hear the sounds of the Manehattan evening. The clip-clop of hooves on pavement and the clatter of carriage wheels invaded the kitchen. With dinner ready to serve, she carried the pot with mitt-covered wings, placing it on the dining room table, and ladled broth into a trio of clean, blue bowls.
“Vellum, Mayflower! Dinner!”
Through the hallway, she heard the sound of squeals and hoofsteps. Willow huffed as her call went unanswered and she walked towards the commotion.
Inside the living room, an earth pony filly, encapsulated in a field of gray magic, nearly knocked over a vase on an end-table with a pair of cardboard wings. The blue and yellow costume armored her in an aura of youthful invincibility as her father used his telekinesis to zip her through a series of loops and turns around the sofa and coffee table. Her mane, which shared her mother’s coat’s pale shade of violet, whipped through the air.
“Fasta, Daddy! I need ta show the cwowd my new twicks!”
Indulging his daughter, Vellum sent the little Wonderbolt into a series of quick corkscrews, dangerously zigzagging between a series of chairs exclusively set up for this purpose.
“Vellum, I wish you wouldn’t play Wonderbolt with May indoors.” Willow furrowed her brow as she walked over by her husband, disapproving of his typical cavalier attitude towards child safety. “She could get hurt.”
Vellum chuckled. “C’mon, honey, I’ve only been back a day. My little girl and I have to make up time.” He lowered the laughing filly and tousled her mane. “I believe we have some time to make up too.”
Willow blushed and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Come along, both of you. Dinner’s ready.”
“Willow, I told you to call me when you were done cooking. You shouldn’t be lifting things in your condition,” the unicorn said in a concerned tone, pointing at her swollen belly.
“Being pregnant doesn’t make me an invalid, Vellum,” she replied dismissively. “I was perfectly fine carrying Mayflower and am perfectly fine now. Now enough out of you two; the food is getting cold.”
The family spent dinner listening to Vellum speak about his trip to the Griffon Kingdom. During the expedition, his archaeological team had discovered the ruins of an old Equestrian embassy, and Vellum had retrieved some valuable artifacts dating back to the Pre-Royal Sisters period. During his lecture, Vellum gestured wildly with his hooves for emphasis while Willow nodded and occasionally added, “That’s interesting.” She allowed Vellum his excitement, content to have her husband back home in Manehattan, and her family complete again. Besides, history never held much interest to her; she was more concerned with her children’s futures. She glanced over and noticed Mayflower meticulously picking out vegetables from her bowl and depositing them on the tablecloth, leaving wet stains.
“May, why aren’t you eating, honey? Don’t you like Momma’s cooking?”
Mayflower scrunched her face. “I hate cauwif’ower,” she whined.
“But you’ve never tasted it.”
“Don’ wanna. I know I won’ like it.” She pushed the bowl away and crossed her forelegs.
Willow might have been exasperated in months past, but she’d dealt with Mayflower’s picky eating habits before. These episodes could last a few minutes or all night, depending on whose will was stronger. Luckily, Willow had a secret weapon.
Smiling, she asked, “Did you know Thunder Cracker eats all his vegetables?”
Eyes opening wide, the filly shook her head.
“Well, he does. Why do you think his wings are so strong? Wonderbolts have to eat a healthy diet. You’ve seen his posters in the doctor’s office, haven't you?” she asked rhetorically.
As part of the Equestrian military, the Wonderbolts were obligated to participate in public service campaigns. One campaign encouraged healthy eating and exercise among the country’s youth. Posters featuring different members of the flying team were plastered on the walls of schools and pediatric offices.
The poster Willow was referencing featured May’s favorite Wonderbolt, Thunder Cracker, doing a loop while holding a bowl of broccoli. The phrase “Wonderbolts Eat Wonderful Vegetables” was emblazoned in large yellow letters. Willow felt the poster was silly, but her daughter adored anything with the redheaded stallion’s likeness.
"And if you want to be a Wonderbolt, you better start eating like one!"
Mayflower took only moments to messily gobble her serving. After Willow, giggling, wiped her daughter’s muzzle clean, Mayflower asked to be excused from the table and went to play. Mentioning her idol always did the trick.
“How much longer are we going to humor her, Vellum?” Willow sighed once she was out of sight. “Did you know she asked for a pair of wings for her birthday? I’m not sure I can deal with her disappointment again.”
Vellum moved over to embrace his wife and rub her shoulders. “Dear, I’m sure she’ll grow out of this Wonderbolt phase. In the meantime, maybe I’ll see about getting the Flutter-wing Spell cast on her. I know some unicorns in the Arcana department; one of them should be able do it.”
“I’m reluctant, honey. Should we be feeding her fantasy? Maybe I shouldn’t take her flying with me so often.” Her husband shifted his hooves gently down to her sides, massaging tired muscles with slow circular motions.
“Don’t be silly, sweetie. You know she loves flying with you.” He cupped her face, his silver irises staring lovingly into her cobalt-colored pools. “Don’t worry so much. A pony’s youth is their time to dream. Let her worry about boring reality when she grows up.”
He cut off any inkling of a response by kissing her on the lips. What started as a chaste peck quickly escalated, as both opened their muzzles to deepen their mouths’ embrace. Willow traced her wings along her husband’s flanks, letting them rest on his cutie mark: an open scroll, half-obscured by caked-on sand.
The couple’s intimate moment was cut short by the ringing of the doorbell. Willow growled in annoyance at being interrupted. She made to get up, but Vellum motioned for her to stay put, not wanting the pregnant mare to unduly exert herself.
Distracted while wondering who’d come calling at such a late hour, Vellum almost tripped as Mayflower darted between his legs. The energetic filly galloped towards the door only to be captured by her father’s magic.
“May,” he scolded, “you know you’re not to open the front door without permission.”
“But, Daddy, I wanna see,” she complained with a pout, stamping her hooves.
“Just stay behind me.” He shunted the filly behind him as he opened the door. Standing on the stoop of the family’s brownstone was a pair of white pegasi clad in gold armor. Except for the difference in crest color, both were identical in their statue-like countenance.
“May I help you, gentlecolts?” he inquired, masking his unease with a layer of politeness.
The stallion on Vellum’s right answered, his tone official, “Are you Professor Vellum Scroll?” Vellum nervously nodded. “I am Sergeant Sun Runner of Her Majesty’s Royal Guard. This”—he gestured with a wing to his partner—“is Private Pike. We apologize for disturbing you at this late hour, but we are on Her Majesty’s business. May we come in?”
Usually, Vellum would have insisted the pair come back in the morning, but royal business sounded important, so he reluctantly lead them to the living room. Mayflower gawked at the soldiers, enamored by their shiny gold armor. To an impressionable youngster, it was as cool as a Wonderbolt uniform.
“If I join the guard, will I get cool armor like yours?” she asked, hopping besides the sergeant with excitement.
The sergeant smiled down at the still-costumed filly. “Sure you will, but it looks like the Wonderbolts have already claimed you. They wouldn’t like the Guard stealing one of their recruits.”
Willow Wind joined Vellum on the sofa opposite the two guard ponies, and Mayflower sat between her parents. The guards refused their hosts’ offer of tea, instead opting for water.
“Professor, Princess Celestia has summoned you to Canterlot. We are to escort you,” said Sun Runner. He removed a sealed scroll from his saddlebag, which Vellum magically unfurled.
“This says the Princess wants an immediate audience. How immediate?”
“We have a chariot parked outside,” replied Sun Runner.
“Right now? Can’t this wait until morning? My husband’s been home only briefly, and it’s late,” Willow protested, resting a wing protectively on Vellum’s withers.
“I am sorry, ma’am, but our orders are quite clear,” the sergeant answered, taking a sip from his glass. “Professor, you are to bring all collected material relating to the Griffon Kingdom expedition for the Princess’s review.”
After putting Mayflower to bed, Willow followed her husband into their own bedroom.
“I do not like this, Vellum. A summons in the middle of the evening? Doesn’t it strike you as odd?” Willow asked while laying out Vellum’s best suit. The outfit consisted of a sharp navy blue jacket, a complementary light blue shirt, and a necktie of a darker shade. She didn’t want Vellum to go, but one couldn’t ignore a royal summons. The least she could do was make sure he was well-dressed for his meeting.
Willow’s concerned tone wasn’t lost on her husband, but he was just as mystified as she. “It’s difficult for me to say, dear. The seal’s authentic. I can’t imagine the Princess wasting time sending those two if it wasn’t important... A pox on the pony who invented ties!” Vellum complained as he struggled with the piece of cloth. Even using magic, Vellum could never tie a proper knot; he either left a gap near the collar, or the narrow end of the tie would be visible. “This is why I prefer clip-ons,” he sighed.
Willow clucked her tongue in disapproval at the result of his struggles. Vellum’s repeated attempts had undone her careful ironing and left the fabric a wrinkled mess. She disentangled the tie from the unicorn’s neck and set it on the ironing board.
“Really, Vellum, it’s a wonder you can dress yourself,” Willow grumbled.
The stallion draped his gray-furred forelegs over his wife’s withers and nuzzled her neck, not minding that he was interfering with her work. He playfully nibbled her ear. “That’s why I married you, dear. We stallions can’t dress ourselves. It’s not in our blood.”
Willow raised an eyebrow, not buying her husband’s excuse.
“It’s historical fact. First, we rely on our mothers, then our fillyfriends, then our wives,” he said. “Besides, we both know you like me naked.” He cheekily swatted her rump with his tail, eliciting a giggle.
“Mmmhmm… so what happens if there’re no mares around?” Picking up the freshly pressed tie, Willow turned and wrapped it around Vellum’s collar.
“Oh, then we just choke to death trying to fix the damn things,” he quipped.
“Well, I’m not ready to be a widow... yet,” Willow remarked wryly. With a few deft movements of her wings, she completed a Wingsor knot. “There, now you look quite handsome. I do good work, if I do say so myself.”
“Indeed you do.” Vellum admired himself in the mirror. “Maybe the Princess will be so impressed by my dapper attire, that she’ll ask me to run away with her, hence the late night meeting.”
“Whatever will I do without my darling husband?” laughed Willow, feigning horror while raising a hoof to her forehead. “How will I live without a stallion to cook for and pick up after?”
The couple laughed together and set about packing Vellum’s saddlebags. One side bulged with parchment and notebooks; the other held a single cardboard cylinder.
With work packed, Vellum secured the straps around his torso. “That appears to be everything. Let’s not keep our guests waiting.”
The guards hitched themselves to the chariot as Vellum and Willow stepped outside. The couple’s goodbyes were interrupted by Mayflower running down the front steps.
“Wait, I’m coming too!” The lilac coated filly wore little saddlebags over a frilled lavender frock.
“Mayflower? Why aren’t you asleep, sweetie?” Willow turned in surprised and scooped her daughter onto her back. “And where do you think you’re going, dressed so well?”
“I’m going with Daddy to meet Pwincess Celestia. She can change me into a pegasus!” she cried, her parents exchanged worried looks.
“May, the Princess can’t change a pony’s tribe,” explained her father, trying to gently ease her disappointment. “There is no such magic.”
“But Orange Zest said that if Pwincess Celestia gives you one of her feathers, it will turn any pony into a pegasus,” she spoke back in a tone expressing disbelief that her friend’s words could be anything but fact. “And she heard it from her cousin in Ponyville.”
Pike snickered, earning a wing to the back of the head from his superior. Both guards had heard a number of outlandish stories about the Princess’s abilities, but this was the first they’d heard about magical plumage.
“You can’t believe every story your classmates tell you, May. Besides, this isn’t a field trip. I can’t bring you along.”
Unhappy with being left behind, Mayflower unleashed the ultimate weapon of little children everywhere, a wide-eyed, pouty stare. Vellum could feel his resolve breaking in the face of the large silver pools. He quickly thought of a compromise.
“How about I ask the Princess for a feather? She might give me one if I tell her what a good girl you are, but only if you stay here,” he offered.
“You pwomise?”
“I promise to ask. No crying if her feather doesn’t work, okay?”
“Okay.” The filly smiled, satisfied.
After giving his wife and daughter some last nuzzles, Vellum climbed aboard the chariot and waved goodbye as the pegasi took off. Willow and Mayflower watched the night sky until the carriage was out of sight, confident that the Princess would take care of him.
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What a way to start. I'm very intrigued. VERY nice almost un-mention of Twilight.
I must read on...
That was a well done opening in my opinion. I can easily envision what's happening. With the tone of the story set, I'm looking forward to the next chapter.
I might PM you later about some questions. Just a little heads up.
...
wait...
(2:54)
Yeah, ties are evil, plain and simple.
Congratulations, this is going to be brilliant.
I think in comments we are unanimous. You have hooked us but good.
Glad to see this one finally up. Looks like you're off to a solid start with the readership, too. :)
Glad I got around to this, very engaging start. The Twilight and AJ cameo were nice and subtle, especially AJ's.
By Primus, the pacing of this story is bloody fantastic. Colour me hooked.
Also, this is Thundercracker.
tfwiki.net/mediawiki/images2/thumb/3/32/Thundercrackerg1guido.jpg/300px-Thundercrackerg1guido.jpg
Sorry, nerd alert.
And then he died