Records of Equestria: Elements of Power

by Gearcrow

Part I - Ch. IV - What You Have Done to the Least of These

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“The future should be filled with magic
Dreams and wishes brought to life
But the days ahead are dark and tragic
No time for hope when all is strife”

- Spirit of Hearth's Warming Yet to Come

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100 EoH

Rarity lay in her bed at home in her room on the second floor of the Carousel Boutique. No… not her bed and not the boutique. This was a better bed. Much better. Luxurious silks and satins caressed every inch of her body, and dappled beams of sunlight–mauve, periwinkle, and gold–danced their slow kaleidoscopic dance across her face. Somepony lay next to her, radiant in every way, mane tossed carelessly across the pillows, beads of sweat pearling on her neck and brow.

This other pony was sleeping. Her soft warm breath tickled Rarity’s face and ruffled a few strands of wayward mane that had fallen across her cheek during the night. A blissful peace swelled in her heart. At that moment she was possessed by an unshakable conviction. This was her true home. Here, all was as it should be.

“Why do you keep doing this?”

“What?” Rarity turned around in her chair to look at Fluttershy, who was standing in the middle of her inspiration room. It was much less messy than normal, and instead of patterns, fabrics, and sewing tools, there was a stack of music theory books and several annotated pages of sheet music on her desk.

“It’s too much, Rarity.” Fluttershy sounded frustrated more than angry. “You don’t have to do this.”

Rarity scoffed loudly–too loudly–and turned back to her work, but she couldn’t hide the redness in her eyes and the tension in her jaw from her best friend. Next to the books on her desk stood a small frame with a picture of a blushing Twilight Sparkle cheek to cheek with a grinning earth pony. Even though his face had been violently scribbled over with red ink, a flowing evergreen mane and a pristine coral-colored coat were still visible around the edges.

“It’s a gift,” she mumbled to herself as much as to Fluttershy. No sooner had the words left her mouth than her cutie mark began to grow hot and glow. It only lasted for the briefest moment, not even a second, but her friend noticed.

“Rarity…” Fluttershy walked up to her and hugged her from behind. “It’s too much.”

Rarity felt the tears on her cheeks before she even realized she was crying. “It’s a gift,” she sobbed. “How can I say no when all she did was ask for a gift?”

“Why are you crying?” Sweetie Belle asked, looking at Rarity over the book she’d been reading. Rarity stopped mid motion, teacup halfway to her mouth. Why had she been crying?

They were sitting in Sweetie’s office at the School of Friendship, enjoying a light lunch and a cup of tea. As busy as they both were, moments like this were rare, though they were becoming more and more common as Sweetie grew older. She was still the principal of Twilight’s school, but she’d been doing the job for so long now that most of her duties had been delegated to a cadre of aids, school functionaries, and teachers. Sweetie really only had to check in every now and again to ensure things ran smoothly and that nothing had gone off the rails. The reality was that Rarity was the busy one, or at the very least, the busier one, and more and more she felt guilty for the times she had to decline Sweetie’s invitations to spend time together.

“I was thinking about Timber,” Rarity found herself saying. “Did you know Thracians can use magic even though they’re earth ponies?”

Sweetie sighed and put down her book. “Rarity, earth ponies can use magic.”

“Yes, yes, I know, but I mean that they can cast spells, like unicorns do. I think it’s somewhat limited, but still.”

Sweetie Belle looked amused but refrained from laughing. “Yes, I did know. Swift Foot used to demonstrate every time she came to visit Canterlot. Cozy Glow hates it.”

Rarity grimaced and looked down at her hooves. “Yes, well, Twilight won’t shut up about it,” she said, surprised at the venom in her words.

“Rarity!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, dear.” Twilight Velvet’s voice was gentle and kind. “That was beautiful.”

Rarity was seated in a comfortable armchair in the Sparkles’ living room, holding her well-polished guitar. Night Light and Twilight Velvet sat opposite her on their couch.

“I wanted you to hear it first,” she said. “Twilight asked me to write something for the wedding, and I… I just wanted you to hear it first.”

“Well, I thought it was just lovely,” said Night Light, grinning.

“What was lovely?” asked a voice from the hallway that made Rarity’s blood turn cold. “Oh, Rarity!” Twilight Sparkle said, stepping into the living room shoulder to shoulder with a very tall and very handsome earth pony. His name was Timber Spruce, Prince of Thrace, and most recently, he was Twilight’s fiancé.

“I didn’t know you were coming over,” Twilight continued. She looked down at Rarity’s guitar and then back up at Rarity with wide eyes and an excited smile. “Did you finish the song?”

Rarity stared at Twilight for several long seconds. She stared at her large curious eyes, her bright smile, and at her shoulder, which brushed easily against Timber’s. The room around them seemed to dim until the only light was Twilight and everypony else disappeared. She felt her breath catch. She couldn’t do this. It’s a gift, you have to! Her cutie mark burned, and so, she found, did her eyes. She could feel the tears coming. No. Not now. Please, anything but that!

Twilight’s smiling face turned concerned, and that was more than she could bear. Rarity fled. Leaving the guitar behind, she ran. She ran past a startled Twilight and through the Sparkle’s door, and not until she saw Twilight materialize in front of her, did she remember she could teleport. With a loud crack she was gone, and where she went, not even Twilight could find her.

A strong lurching motion rocked her awake from her guilt-ridden dream. She rubbed her eyes and rolled over in her tiny wall-mounted cot. Pinkie was already awake and was brushing her teeth over the steel sink they’d been forced to share. She met Pinkie’s eyes in the mirror over said sink before shoving her face back into her pillow.

“Morning, Rarity! Did you sleep well? You were, uhm, making noises.”

Rarity flung her pillow at Pinkie’s head with all the force her newly wakened horn could muster, which was to say, not much. It struck true, but Pinkie just giggled and threw it back.

“Breakfast is on in ten,” she said. “I know you like to take your time, but I think you’d better hurry. They didn’t make very much yesterday, and that Willow Spark has a super big appetite.”

Willow Spark was a kirin and one of only two other passengers on the commercial fishing vessel they’d booked passage on. Not many ships travelled between Parish-By-The-Sea and Baltimare, so pickings had been slim.

Rarity sat up and stared miserably at the wall. She hated that dream. If she’d been less prideful, she’d have asked Luna to get rid of it a long time ago. At least, that’s what she told herself. She wasn’t embarrassed, and she certainly wasn’t willing to put up with the rest of the dream just because it started out so… nice. She groaned at her own weakness and pushed herself out of the cot.

“See you at breakfast,” Pinkie said, smiling at Rarity as she bounced out of their little room. It only took Rarity twenty minutes to get ready, which in her opinion was a blistering pace. She was about to head out to join Pinkie when she noticed the book on morse code sticking out from her bag. She’d neglected it for two whole days. She had several large orders waiting for her when she got back to Carousel Boutique, and she’d been busy drawing up designs and going over the budget reports that Haute Pommel had sent her through Spike. She grabbed both the book and the mysterious letter before leaving.

Pinkie was on her third helping of pancakes when Rarity stepped into the cramped kitchen. Willow Spark and their other travel companion, an old and rather gruff looking unicorn called Sinker, were nowhere to be seen.

“It seems I should I worry more about you than Willow Spark, Pinkie. Did you leave any pancakes for me?”

Without looking up from her own meal, Pinkie pulled a plate covered in a dinged-up cloche over and placed it in front of Rarity, who was just getting seated on the bench across from her.

“An orange and two pancakes with blueberry syrup. I peeled the orange for you.”

Rarity smiled tenderly at Pinkie. “Darling, you know me so well.”

Trying to eat and translate morse code at the same time proved futile, so Rarity downed her meal as quickly as propriety allowed and retired to the deck to see if she could make heads or tails of the letter. She felt suddenly possessed by an urgent need to know what it said and could scarcely believe she’d been so unconcerned with it for two full days. What if it contained some ominous warning or threat? Though the sender really shouldn’t have encrypted it if it was time sensitive, she thought, or they should have at least indicated in some way that time was off the essence.

For some reason she didn’t understand, there were a multitude of cushioned lounge chairs spread across the deck near the bow. Still, it was a blessing since the fishing operations were primarily handled on the afterdeck, and this allowed the passengers some reprieve from the smell, but Rarity had no idea why the captain felt he needed so many of them. The wizened old pony had seemed genuinely surprised at having even just four passengers for this trip.

The sky was bright and blue, and the breeze was salty and brisk but not strong enough to be a nuisance. Rarity had brought a large sun hat with her that she cinched tightly beneath her chin—it had been a gift from Fluttershy, and it wouldn’t do to have it fly overboard—and wore a pair of yellow shades as well. She knew she should be using her red sewing glasses which worked excellently for reading, but the sun-glare off the ocean waves was too strong for anything but shades.

Translating the message turned out to be easier than she’d expected. Her biggest obstacle was simply keeping the letter from blowing away in the wind.

“Who’s Salt?” Pinkie asked, while glancing over Rarity’s shoulder from the adjacent lounge chair.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea, Pinkie. I’m not even sure it’s referring to anypony specific. It might just mean… salt?” The message had been short and read as follows: “Hollow Shades beware of salt”, which seemed to Rarity both frustratingly vague and intentionally obtuse. “Whoever sent this has certainly got a flair for the dramatic.” She’d copied down the translation under the original message and placed the letter on the inside of the front cover of the morse code book. “This is useless right now. Best just to hold on to it and give it to Twilight when we get home.”

Pinkie scrunched her eyebrows together and tapped her mouth with her hoofs a few times. “Maybe we should just go to Hollow Shades and see if anything happens?”

Rarity gave Pinkie a flat and unimpressed stare. “You can’t be serious.”

The pink pony shrugged her shoulders and made a non-committal sound.

“Pinkie, we’ve been away from Ponyville and the others for almost six weeks now. Six weeks! I want to… no I need to go home. And frankly, so do you. You know we get… odd when we’re away from each other for too long.” It was true. It had taken them several years to figure out that their so-called friendship missions always required at least two of them not only because of their unique talents, but also to keep them, well, normal was the only word Rarity knew to describe it.

The table-map-thing in Twilight’s castle had stopped sending them on missions decades ago, and with no formal structure but Twilight’s discretion and the needs of the citizenry to determine where to go, their missions had grown longer. They’d often travel alone, with a guard contingency, or sometimes with another friend and ally like Capper, Sunburst, Trixie, or even Fizzlepop Berrytwist. Fluttershy had gone on several missions with just Discord for company.

Years after Twilight’s ascension, Pinkie had travelled to Yakyakistan to assist an aging Prince Rutherford set some things in order and prepare the court for the transfer of power to his son. Yona had come with her. Three months later, Yona had sent a letter to Ponyville asking for emergency assistance.

They’d found Pinkie in a small shack from which none of the yaks had been able to move her. She’d been drawing intricate circles on the wall with multi-hued crayons that she kept pulling from her mane. She hadn’t eaten for several days and hadn’t responded to any of the yaks who tried to speak to her.

Twilight had entered the room first, and as soon as she did, Pinkie had flung herself at the confused alicorn, weeping inconsolably. Several weeks of testing had revealed only a handful of concrete things. Firstly, the Elements of Harmony seemed somehow dependent on one another, and proximity was very much a factor. Secondly, this dependency seemed connected to the same magic that granted them their powers and longevity. That was about it.

Twilight couldn’t say why they fell apart when they were separated for too long, or exactly how long they could be away from each other, or if there was any way to mitigate the effects. They all agreed that it was unfortunate but also agreed that they all loved each other very much and would try to make it work as best as they could. And they had. Incidents had thankfully been few and far between. The one time it had happened to Rarity… she shuddered and pushed the thought away. Twilight called it a curse, and Rarity had to agree.

Six weeks was not that long, especially when there were two of them, but Rarity wanted very much to return home and feared–rightfully–how long they might get side-tracked if they pursued this mystery alone.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Pinkie conceded, looking considerably more morose than she usually did.

“I just thought it might be fun, and...”

“Darling, what is it?”

“It’s just hard sometimes, to go home I mean. He... he doesn’t really recognize me anymore.”

Rarity’s heart melted for her friend, and she grabbed Pinkie in a tight hug. “It’s ok,” she said. “I’m here.”

“I feel so... so guilty for not wanting to see him.” Pinkie began to weep, and for once Rarity didn’t mind the tears soaking into her mane. “I’m a bad pony!”

“No, no, hush. You’re a wonderful pony. It’s normal to be scared. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.” She patted Pinkie’s tangled curls gently and kissed her on the head. Rarity continued to soothe Pinkie as best as she could, and they sat like that for the rest of the morning until long after her friend had calmed down.

Sometimes, in her darker moods, Rarity felt certain that things would be better another hundred years from now when all their immediate friends and family had passed on and the specter of death didn’t hover menacingly over so many of their heads. And when she thought things like that, it was her turn to feel guilty. She wrestled down the pain in her chest before it paralyzed her, as it sometimes did.

The others all had their unique ways of dealing with, well, everything, and Rarity tried her best to not judge them for it. Applejack seemed permanently locked in a frown, speaking almost as little as Big Mac used to, and Rainbow Dash was barely sober enough on most days to fly in a straight line. Fluttershy was a mess, physically and mentally, and Pinkie suffered such swift and terrible mood swings she might as well be strapped to a roller coaster with a rocket on her back.

And Twilight… Oh, Twilight. Wonderful as their darling Princess was, she was beginning to scare them all just a little. When Rarity caught her in her unguarded moments, she could see in her eyes that same old manic energy from their younger years amplified a hundredfold, unsettling and focused like a lance. There was an unfamiliar intensity to her now that Rarity wished desperately to soothe. She just didn't know how. As for herself, she refused to get dragged down. She couldn’t help anypony if she didn’t keep a clear mind and a positive attitude. For her own benefit, and for the rest of the girls… she just had to soldier on.

-

Winter sat at one of the tables in the dining hall set aside for the guards and stared at his bowl of cold oatmeal. It hadn’t started off cold, and though he felt somewhat guilty about letting anything prepared by Asterope go to waste–that bird could cook something fierce–he just couldn’t get himself to eat. Something had been off ever since the other night during the anniversary celebration, and more and more it was affecting his appetite and his sleep.

“You’ll get sick if you don’t eat, Captain. At least that’s what I gather from reading pony gastrological texts.”

The speaker was a massive changeling named Cercus. He was covered in bronze and green chitinous plates and had one short horn on his nose and another longer one that curved forward and down from his brow. Winter had never seen a changeling like him, but he’d been inside Princess Twilight’s Hall of Entomology, and there had been a beetle there, much larger than all the rest, that had looked suspiciously similar to Cercus. He felt somewhat uncomfortable remembering that the beetle had been dead and pinned to the wall by a large needle.

Winter had only known Cercus for a couple of months now, but he seemed like a reliable fellow, and for all his size and fierce appearance, he was likely the most studious and scholarly of all the creatures in the Twilight Guard.

“I’ll be fine, Lieutenant. Just feeling a bit queasy is all.”

Cercus chuckled at that. “Yes, I can certainly understand that. Our new CO has revealed to me the existence of muscles I didn’t even know I had. I’m starting to think her supernatural speed is less a product of magic and more the result of this nightmarish training.”

It was true that Commander Dash had been running them absolutely ragged since she took over the Guard, but he was certain the disquieting nature of his mood had very little to do with her. He felt proud to say he’d handled everything she’d thrown at them so far, well, everything but the drinking. Thinking back to the first night when she’d taken him down to Berry’s he felt a phantom sickness in his stomach that did nothing to improve his appetite.

“Yeah, no. It’s not Commander Dash or the training.”

“What isn’t?” asked Linden, seating herself next to Cercus.

“The Captain is feeling queasy,” Cercus said, gesturing towards Winter.

“I can help with that,” the deer answered, “if you’d like me to.”

Winter laughed and shook his head. “That’s real kind of you, Lieutenant, but no, I’m alright. I’ve just been feeling strange since the anniversary. Maybe I’m still embarrassed about that whole thing with the Princess.”

Cercus chuckled–a deep a rumbling sound–and nodded. “Ah, yes. That was a good laugh. It is well that the Princess has a sense of humor. I think Princess Luna would not have been so carefree about it.”

“I saw her the other day,” Linden said. “The Starchild, I mean, not Princess Luna.”

Winter and Cercus both turned and looked at her. Cercus seemed attentive, waiting for a story, but Winter raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yes. We all do, frequently. This is her castle.”

Linden rolled her eyes and finished chewing on a granola bar she’d brought for breakfast. “I mean outside the castle. I was visiting with some of my people who came here on pilgrimage.”

“Yes,” Cercus said, nodding, “I’d heard of that. That must have been a long and difficult journey. If I’m not mistaken, your people come from across the western sea?”

Winter stared at Linden in surprise. He’d always assumed she was from Thicket, like most deer he’d met. Linden, in turn, seemed equally surprised with Cercus.

“I… yes. How do you know that?” she asked. Cercus blushed at that and scratched the back of his head. “Ah, well, ugh, King Thorax used to let me study Chrysalis’ old archives, and they had quite detailed overseas invasion plans. They were mostly contingencies, you see, in case she failed to conquer Equestria.”

“I see. Well, that’s neither here nor there.”

Winter agreed. Chrysalis remained a stone statue in the Canterlot gardens, and she’d been there for longer than any of them had been alive. It was foolish to hold any current changelings responsible for the things that had happened during her reign. Well, most of them. There were splinter groups here and there that felt very strongly about the old ways. Sometimes, they made it everypony else’s problem.

“So, what happened with the Princess,” he asked, wanting to hear the rest of the story.

“The Saint had come to visit us. She was helping one of our does give birth when suddenly she looked up from her work and told me that the Starchild was drawing near. I assume she possesses some magical ability that lets her know. Strangely, she asked me to prevent the Starchild access to our camp and to send her on her way. I did as she instructed, but it was disconcerting. The Saint denies it, but I think they do not like each other very much."

Winter was now very invested in the story. Not that he condoned gossip, but information about the private lives of the Elements of Harmony was hard to come by, and if their friendship was on shaky terms, that was a security risk the guards should be made aware of. He was so caught up in the potential dangers of the Elements of Harmony failing that he forgot his oatmeal had grown cold. He took a bite and immediately regretted it. Still, he swallowed the mushy substance with regret. No sense in wasting food.

Cercus looked thoughtful as well, but before Winter could ask him for his thoughts, he volunteered them.

“I do not think it is a matter of dislike. There was an incident many years ago, one which I’ve only heard rumors of. I hesitate to share them in case they turn out to be false or exaggerated.”

His words did nothing to assuage Winter’s curiosity, and he could see that Linden wanted to know as well. Linden, it seemed, was a better creature then Winter, because after a moment she nodded and spoke.

“That is admirable and correct of you, Cercus. The Principles of Harmony do warn against idle gossip.” The words were proper, but Winter could hear the regret in Linden’s voice. That made him laugh, but he couldn’t fault her. Gossiping was fun, even if the topics were often less than pleasant.

They ate the rest of their breakfast, making small talk and complaining about the sort of things guards often complained about, and soon enough, they found themselves wandering out on the parade field behind the Castle of Friendship. The sun had yet to peak above the mountains, but the sky was turning rosy, heralding a chilly dawn.

The Twilight Guard was split into four companies, each with a captain and two lieutenants. The companies were further split into five squads made up of eight guards and one sergeant. Morning drills were done on a rotating schedule that often mixed together squads from various companies so as to ensure that the guards were at least passingly familiar with each other and could coordinate with any given unit in case of an emergency.

This particular morning saw a large number of creatures from Winter’s company on the field and a few from Skarn’s. Skarn herself was a gargoyle of impressive stature, possessed of an almost religious devotion to the Princess. Zealous was the word that came to mind, but Winter liked her all the same. He respected competence, and she more than delivered on that front.

She was leaning against a purple candy-striped pole that was sometimes used for various exercises of speed or agility.

“Winter,” she said, nodding at him.

“Skarn.”

“Commander Dash isn’t here yet. She’s always early.”

Winter looked around, and sure enough, all the guards had already lined up, ready for whatever new and insane exercise the Element of Loyalty had in store for them, but said pegasus was nowhere to be seen. Like Skarn had mentioned, Commander Dash was always early. Or, well, seemed to be. They’d only had her as their Commanding Officer for a few days now, so who could really say if this was that uncommon?

“Maybe she’s, you know…” Skarn held a claw up towards her mouth and mimicked a drinking motion. Linden looked offended, but Cercus nodded, and Winter wished he could say he hadn’t thought the same.

“As funny as that would be, my dear Skarn,” said a raspy sing-song voice, “I’m afraid you’re quite wrong.”

An elderly and, by the look of his eyes, severely jaundiced unicorn appeared in front of the gathered guards with the tell-tale crack of teleportation. His coat was gray, he had a scraggly black and white beard, and his cutie mark was an upside down umbrella. He was also wearing a rather bizarre looking jacket made up of mismatching types of fabrics in brown, orange, and green.

Skarn looked him over with a skeptical look and opened her mouth to say something, but Winter silenced her with a quick motion of his hoof. Skarn might not have recognized the pony, but Winter certainly did, and he suspected this morning’s drills might be the most challenging they’d experienced to date.

“Now, now, Captain Winter,” said the unicorn with a wicked smirk on his face, “let Miss Skarn say whatever it is she wishes to say. I’m ever so curious.”

Skarn looked uncomfortable and had apparently decided that expressing distrust or disparaging this strange looking newcomer in any way was not in her best interest, because she remained silent.

“Not very sporting of you but wise, perhaps.” The unicorn shook his head and turned to face the gathered guards. “Rainbow is taking the morning off for personal reasons.” He rolled his eyes in an exaggerated motion at that but continued. “She asked me to fill in for her today, which I agreed to because I am a genuine and magnanimous friend. Still, it seems like most of you don’t recognize me like this. Perhaps a wardrobe change is in order.”

And with that, the unicorn clapped his hooves together and seemed to explode outwards, elongating and growing. His legs disappeared, and he began forming new limbs and horns where before there had been none. It was a slow and grotesque display that was certainly meant to disturb them. Even knowing what he was looking at, Winter couldn’t deny that the effect was unsettling. Once he was finished, Discord looked down at the mostly horrified guards and laughed. He snapped his fingers, and a large orb of crackling yellow magic appeared in front of him.

“Now, this is a little realm of chaos I made just for you. How about we go five at a time and see if you can make it back out unaided.” He bounced the orb against the grass a few times, making it grow with each bounce until it was large enough for a group of them to enter. “Oh, I hope you’re ready, because this will be so much fun.”

-

The shadow was confused. So much about this place was confusing. Something old and dangerous was crawling around just out of sight, an echo of some sort, he thought. He was dangerous himself, but he’d only just been born… no… reborn? Brought back? The Speaker had called to him from across space and time, and he’d awakened in response. Slowly at first, shifting the dirt of eons off his shoulders, and with tremendous effort, he’d dug his way back to the surface. There he’d found light. That had been unexpected, and in the back of his mind, he’d realized there was something very wrong about that light, not to mention the grass-scented breeze and the twitter of birdsong accompanying it.

He was inside a construct of chaos, and to him, that was perhaps the most confusing part. It was so pure–only chaos without the malice–and it all reeked of something… no, someone that shouldn’t have been able to exist in this place. It reeked of Harmony. That… that bitch! Of all the impossible horrible things! He gritted his teeth and tried to focus on his task.

He’d been given a direct command, and the Master of Ceremonies wasn’t about to disappoint. After all, the Speaker had called him first. He’d be the one granted ascension, even if he had to stomp all over the others to get it, and oddly enough, this place was lousy with ichor. He could smell it even over the chaos, even over Harmony’s sugary burning stench. There were godlings here, and he so hoped he’d get to taste them. Orphic chuckled and melted back into the shadow. All he had to do was avoid the old thing and wait, and he was very good at waiting.