Princess and Pariah

by Taialin

Da Huangdi

I'm fortunate that I'm able to teleport. It means I can get to most places without the travel time—a nice perk for a Princess. If I'm riding the train, it's usually for a good reason. Sometimes I'm traveling with too large a group to teleport everyone. Sometimes I'm just not in a rush and could spare the energy. Today, it's international relations. I can teleport anywhere within Equestria, and there's theoretically nothing stopping me from teleporting anywhere at all, but the leaders of other nations would understandably not be very happy if a pony—or a battalion of ponies, for that matter—could show up anywhere within their borders at any time. Acts of war are not something I have much familiarity with, and I'd very much prefer to keep it that way.

The rail line through the Windswept Plains is one of the longest lines in—and out of—Equestria. It takes several days to traverse it, days that I really don't have. I really wish I had a Princess Luna co-ruling with me who could help pick up governing responsibilities when I'm unavailable. Horolog just about had a conniption when I told her I'd be leaving for at least a week and didn't know when I'd be back. Spike has always been a wonderful assistant, and while he's helping to keep things running back home, he can't do everything.

This line is also one of the least-traveled. Ponies rarely have the need to go this far out of Equestria. As is, there are only two ponies on the train right now: myself, and Tempest.

I told Tempest about the lead I discovered and asked if she wanted to join me in investigating it. She accepted, again not expressing the emotion I thought she would from the news. She didn't seem terribly excited about it. Then again, she doesn't get excited over much of anything.

We spent the rest of the time on the train talking about what I knew of the kirin from Applejack and Fluttershy's trip. The Vow of Silence, the Stream, the cure, and of course, Autumn Blaze. That was yesterday.

Today, it's well past sunrise, but Tempest is still asleep, peacefully curled up in the bed across from me. She seems a rather heavy sleeper, sleeping through the train bumping over its tracks without a stir, the same bumps that woke me several times. Looking at her, I can't help but smile. For a long time, I wondered whether her fierce, no-nonsense, dare-I-say-unfriendly expression she wears almost all hours of the day is one she schooled herself to wear or one her face falls into naturally. I can say now it's definitely the former. Balled up like a cat and bereft of the tension she always carries, I watch the tiny rise and fall of her chest for several minutes.

I hope your dreams are free of the anxiety you've had to deal with in the waking world.

It feels like an act of evil that I have to break her out of the spell. But the scenery outside the window, normally a featureless plain of sparse trees, gives way to rocky outcroppings and angrier topology as we approach the Peaks, and the train's brakes start screeching. We'll be arriving soon.

Carefully, I approach and nose Tempest gently. "Wake up. We're arriving," I whisper.

Tempest is evidently not ready to wake yet because it takes a good deal of prodding for her to respond at all. My nose doesn't work, and neither does a hoof, so I resort to just about shoving her off the bed to get her attention. Eventually, it works; Tempest twitches a hind leg, wrinkles her muzzle, lifts her head, and looks at me with cloudy eyes. "Touch me from the front next time, Princess," she says, voice clogged with slumber and even deeper than usual. "Approaching from behind is an easy way for you to get yourself kicked."

I retreat, almost feeling her air of severity reassert itself around her and push me back. "S-sure!" I say with a half-hearted chuckle.

Tempest groans and rolls off the bed. She cracks her neck a couple times and stretches luxuriously. She squints at the light coming into the train car, looking not unlike how Rainbow Dash does when she wakes up. She clamps her eyes shut and rubs at them for a few seconds. Next she looks at me, the moment has passed. Her sleeping countenance is thoroughly washed and replaced with her usual expression. I hide a sigh.

"Orders, Princess?"

"What?"

"Your orders."

"Ah . . . none?" I shake myself. Maybe I gave off the wrong impression when I asked if she wanted to come on this trip. "I invited you because I found something that might lead to your cure, and I thought you might want to see it first-hoof or investigate it yourself." I smile awkwardly. "I didn't ask you to come to do anything. Not unless you want to!"

Tempest's expression remains unchanged. She blinks.

My smile grows a little more strained. "Just stay close to me? I have a couple ponies—er, kirin—I want to talk to. I think they might be able to help. And-and you're free to ask questions, too! If you're curious about something and you want to investigate it more, that is."

"As you wish."

I hide another sigh. It's been so long that Tempest's life has only been commands, received and issued. I put a hoof on her withers in what I hope to be a comforting gesture. Slowly. "I know it's hard for you to express yourself as a friend, but that's what I'm trying to do, and that's what I want you to do. I'm concerned about you, Tempest. I don't quite know how you're feeling physically or how you're coping mentally. It's hard for me to tell, what with your . . ." I gesture at her pathetically and nonspecifically, not finding the right word for what I'm thinking. ". . . you-ness. You don't need to hide behind commands or missions that need carrying out, come what may—I'm not giving you either. I want to give you a choice. If you'd rather be at home and conserve your strength, that's fine. If you want to join me investigating, that's fine too. Just, really, how are you feeling?"

Tempest looks back to me, her piercing green eyes meeting mine.

I remember when Tempest first stayed with me to learn more about friendship, her eyes were full of hatred. Directed at the world, at me, everypony. There's still so much of it that never left—that hatred shaped her as a pony. Even now, part of what makes her so intimidating to look in the eye is that anger—it's always there, and it puts you on edge. Even now, sometimes I have to remind myself that she's not mad at me—at least, I don't think she is.

"I feel . . . like I'd like to explore this lead. I feel like I want to know more about this source of magic I could have chosen to target over Equestria's in another world," she says.

"Okay." I give her one last smile. "Just don't strain yourself, okay?"

The twitch in her eyes tells me that I went too far. Tempest was never one who accepted the common courtesies of friendship; in fact, she actively dislikes them. I hide a sigh and retreat from her to gather my things. Tempest simply looks out the window, a hungry look on her face.

When the train stops, we step off together onto the Windswept Plains.

It's hard to believe that the kirin could make their home in such an inhospitable place. I remember seeing more than one proposal to let nature reclaim this train line because there was nothing of worth this way. Were it not for the fact I know Applejack and Fluttershy found kirin down here, I'd be inclined to agree—the plains appear to be just a morass of desert savannah, pervasive dust, and unrelenting sun. The only vegetation that survives is a couple acacias and the hardiest of scrub. Even the rocks don't seem to survive long out here before being worn away to nothing. That is, except for the massive rock ahead of us. The Peaks of Peril.

Honestly, the Peaks look even more inhospitable than the plains around it. The smooth-sided rock and the very steep grade are such that only a mountain goat could scale the cliffs. Why they would ever want to, I don't know. What would you find at the top? Snow? Sun? Certainly not sustenance or anything worth finding.

One look at their lands, and it's not hard to believe why the kirin were eventually relegated to myth. How many explorers could have made it far enough to actually find them? And even if one did make it there and back, who would be crazy enough to corroborate them? It's only because Applejack and Fluttershy have already explored here that I know for certain that they do exist. From their accounts, I know the Peaks are more Calderas of Peril; the center is lush and fertile. As for how or why . . .

Even Tempest seems skeptical. She squints at the Peaks. "And this is where the kirin of legend live?"

"Not 'legend'—this is where they definitely are," I correct. I nose into my saddlebags and pull out a letter, one from an "Autumn Blaze" that Applejack befriended the last time she was here. Although, seeing the kirin homeland in pony makes me question who's ambitious enough to actually deliver the mail.

"Are you well enough to travel?"

Tempest just glances at me, says nothing, and sets off without me. I trot to keep up with her.

Tempest sets pace at a brisk canter. Despite my legs being longer than hers now, she seems to have an easier time at it than I do. She doesn't look back to make sure I'm following, either. I can imagine it: Tempest leads a march and pays no mind to stragglers who fall off the back. If they can't keep up, they're better off not in the platoon.

Of course, I'm the Princess and the one who headed this mission; I'd normally be the one in front giving her instructions. But as is, I just try to keep trotting, putting down a wingbeat or two between steps to help keep pace.

It's about an hour's travel from the train terminal to the foot of the Peaks of Peril. They look even more intimidating up close. Were it not for the fact there are some vines slung down the cliff face to assist with climbing (assuming that's what they're there for), I'd expect only winged creatures to be able to make it up. How isolated must the kirin be to live at the top of a nigh-unscalable cliff face in the middle of a plain of desolation.

Tempest runs a hoof on the slick rock of the cliff face. Then she looks at me. "You can't teleport?" she asks.

I shake my head, looking at the summit. "Too dangerous. I've never been here before, and I can't see a safe place for me to go. If I try, I might end up with a tree trunk through my barrel." Plus there's the whole teleporting-in-a-foreign-country-means-war thing.

Tempest grunts in assent and looks to the summit too. There's two solutions: one, we stop for the night and take some time to construct a sling so I can fly us both over the peaks—I don't trust myself to carry her so high. Or two, I fly up alone and let Tempest fend for herself on the vines.

Before I can say anything, Tempest makes our choice for us. She cracks her neck and bounds to the vines. I nearly reach out to stop her or shout "be careful!" before catching myself. Instead, I sigh again and pump my wings and match pace with her climb, flying just below her in case she should lose grip.¹

Tempest climbs the vines like nopony I've seen before. She coils the vines around one hind hoof and steps on that hoof with her other, wedging the vines between and letting her gain height. She coils the vines in the same way with her forehooves to hold her in place while her hindlegs grab a new section of vine a bit higher up. It's fascinating to study how Tempest learned to climb without Earth pony prehensility, but it doesn't look easy.

Her eyes are locked upwards, face drawn in a tawny visage of determination. Even still, I can see the strain slowly building on her face. Rivulets of sweat start forming on her body, but she pays them no mind except to wipe her eyes every now and again.

After several minutes of climbing, Tempest finds a large ledge and hoists herself onto it with her forehooves. The ledge is large enough for both of us, so I alight beside her. Her hard breathing is her only greeting to me. I feel guilty that I'm barely out of breath.

You're ill. Don't overexert yourself. It's unsafe for you to be climbing like this. Do you want me to carry you up? All these are things that I want to say to her, but I know they're all varying degrees of patronizing. At least, they are as I think she'd perceive them. She won't accept help, even when she needs it most.

Has it always been like this? I muse.

"Hm?" Tempest grunts through her heavy breaths.

I squeak and shrink back—I didn't mean to say that out loud. I consider apologizing, but . . . Tempest doesn't respond terribly well to those, either. Now that it's out, maybe I can get an answer, at the very least.

"I'm sorry for asking. Just . . . you've kind of not wanted to hear my concern ever since you told me about the pain in your horn. I know you're trying hard to be your own pony and not be depressed—which I find really inspiring, by the way!—but it doesn't mean you need to spurn others who genuinely care about you." I can't decide if I want to touch her or not, or whether she'd appreciate it. As is, we just sit next to each other, an uncomfortable distance between us.

Tempest remains silent for a long while, her only sound her breathing. Finally, as her breath calms somewhat, she speaks. "I have only depended on myself my whole life. You know that. I've not had the benefit of friends. And the Storm King was quite hooves-off with me, for better or for worse. I had only commands from him—it was my responsibility to determine tactics and carry them out.

"Autonomy, Princess. I must be able to hold myself up. I will not laze about while someone else does my work for me. Because when the day comes that I need to do it myself, I'll only regret that I didn't learn how to do it from the start. The moment I lean on someone as a crutch . . ." She looks at me, sees my expression, and freezes, mouth half open, words on her lips I could quote myself.

"Is the moment they walk away and leave you to fall," I finish, perhaps a bit snippier than I intended. "Is that what you really believe?"

She closes her mouth and looks away from me, her expression deviating from the usual to something I can only describe as chastised. "Old habits," she mumbles. "I apologize, Princess."

"Stop it, Tempest!" I cry. "You were never the obsequious type! You don't need to act as if I'll banish you if you say the wrong thing! This just tells me there are still some things I'd like to teach you." I take a couple breaths to steady myself again. I take the gamble and breach the distance between us, placing my side against hers. "If you'd let me, that is."

She still refuses to look at me. "Is it really such a vice that I refuse to be a burden on others?"

"Only if you refuse to let your friends share your burden. Friends don't give up on each other. And I promise I will never give up on you." I put my hoof around her. She doesn't flinch, but she doesn't reciprocate, either.

We spend several minutes in silence. It's an unfortunate familiar scene: someone affects, and Tempest tolerates. Getting her to tolerate at all was a major step forward on the face, but she's gone from being unapproachable to just being cold. I don't know which is worse.

"I hope you won't have to," she murmurs, finally. Then she shrugs off my hoof and looks up at the vines again. "We should get going." Without waiting for me, she jumps, wraps her hooves about the vines, and starts climbing again.

I sigh and pump my wings to follow after her.

---

1. In the episode, Fluttershy finds a shortcut to the kirin village. Without that knowledge, Tempest and Twilight are going the long way.

Comments

[Taialin]

11695172
Off by a letter. Though "Chiyan's Glen" is an anagram for "changelin', y's?" Thank your for the corrections!

[Frazikar]

In the episode, Fluttershy finds a shortcut to the kirin village. Without that knowledge, Tempest and Twilight are going the long way.

So does AJ, once 'Shy got AJ to listen to her ...