The Mare With No Story And Other Promising Tales

by James Washburn

Princess Luna and the Dragon Prince

Princess Luna and the Dragon Prince

Long ago, the survival of Equestria was far from certain. It was threatened from every direction; from the dragons to the south, the griffons to the east, the windigoes to the north and the sheep of Connemara to the west. Don’t laugh, the sheep were as dangerous as any. After all, who hasn’t heard of Wooliam Wallace, and his famous battlecry, ‘give me liberty or give me mint sauce’?

You haven’t? Oh, well, I should probably tell you it sometime.

But our story isn’t about sheep. It’s about the other great danger to Equestria at that time; dragons. Back in the day, dragons weren’t the isolationist, apathetic creatures we know today. Once, they were mighty. The dragon king ruled from Ghastly Gorge to the Cape of No Hope, lording it over ponies, buffalo and sheep alike. He ruled with an iron claw, encrusted with jewels looted from other dragons and given as gifts in return for not burning cities to ash. Or at least, burning them less.

If you were a dragon, you learned that might was right, and as the mightiest of all creatures, you had the most right. Essentially, you always got what you wanted. It was a shame therefore, that the dragon prince wanted Princess Luna.

The prince was tall and proud, with a great flame-red ridge of spines down his back and teeth long as swords and sharp as diamond. However, though he had the body of a dragon, he had the heart and soul of a poet. He’d heard of Princess Luna’s beauty, how it was second to none, that her wisdom was greater than any, and that her lands were broad and fertile. Her lands, I said. Point is, he was infatuated. His thoughts were always full of this distant, mysterious princess.

Although the dragon prince was crushing hard, he understood that Equestrian customs were different to his own. So rather than burn their lands to the ground and take the Princess for himself (as was dragon custom), he sent a messenger to announce his intentions and to add a friendly note that he would be coming in person to collect his bride within a week. There was no mention of what would happen if they didn’t cooperate. Dragons, as I say, were used to getting what they wanted.

Now, when this message arrived, Princess Celestia panicked.

“You can’t marry the dragon prince!” she said, her pink mane (because pink was in style back then) all a mess with worry. “He’s vicious, cruel, and smells like a burnt sock-drawer.”

“Don’t you see, though?” said Luna, sighing. “That’s why I have to marry him.”

“You like the smell of burnt sock drawers?” said Celestia, trying to break her own tension. As it was, she just smiled a horrible, tight smile, with tears in her eyes.

“No, sister,” said Luna, gently. “If I refuse him, what will he do to Equestria? What will he do to our little ponies?”

It didn’t really bear thinking about. Dragons got what they wanted for a reason, after all.

“But...” Celestia cast her eyes low, “what will I do without you?”

Luna smiled sadly and shrugged. “I don’t know, sister. But I know you’ll manage.”

So, for the good of her country, Luna went south. A message was sent on ahead that she would make the trip down. She went unaccompanied down the long road, through Equestria’s green and fertile country, through the dusty land south of the river, and into dragon country. There, the burnt sticks of trees stood lonely in the broad red wasteland. Here and there, nervous clusters of buffalo and ponies sat in the burnt remains of their teepees and houses. Night fell at noon under the vast pall of smoke from a hundred thousand dragons. Loners circled ominously overhead, but they left Luna alone.

So, on she went until she reached the dragon hall, dug out under what would later be called the Macintosh Hills, but at that point, were known to all as the Spine Range. It was taller back then, and riven with caves. It was the closest thing the dragons had to a city, really. Smoke hung around it like a thunderhead.

She walked with her into the throne room, where the prince sat with his father on the golden throne. Well, it wasn’t really a throne. Dragons were still dragons after all, so it was more a giant pile of gold, acquired from half a continent of pillage. She was eyed enviously by all the other dragon maidens, because although he smelled like a burnt sock drawer, the prince was quite a catch by dragon standards. To them, she was just a nuisance. To her, they were absolutely terrifying. The dragon prince perked up when she entered, swanning down to greet her, his wings out wide.

“Dear Princess Luna!” he said, spreading his claws to embrace her.

“Your grace,” she said, bowing her head.

“This is your bride to be?” said his father, frowning as only a dragon patriarch can frown. His eye-ridges lifted a good foot at the edge and furrowed like a ploughed field in the middle.

“Yes, father. I’ve heard of her beauty, her wisdom and of her land, and I wish to marry her!”

Any other time, the dragon king would have ranted on about how his son should wait, choose a more suitable bride, but truth be told, this was probably as suitable as they’d come. After all, he thought in his slow reptilian way, marrying into the royalty of Equestria would open new opportunities...

So, instead of arguing, he said, “Very well! My son shall marry Princess Luna, and our two kingdoms will be joined as one!”

Luna opened her mouth to protest, but she was in dragon country now. In any case anything she’d said would’ve been lost in the roar of approval from the dragons.

So she was taken to her chambers, which turned out to be a cavern with a roof twenty feet high. There was no bed, but there was a complimentary pile of gems and gold. She lay on it miserably, trying to think of a way to get out of this mess. She felt her sister lifting the moon in her absence, straining against the unfamiliar weight (after all, the sun is a light thing by comparison to a ball of solid rock). She sighed, wishing she could see it wobbling uncertainly into the sky. What would it be tonight? A sickle moon, wasn’t it? How she loved sickle moons. How she loved all the phases of the moon, even the gibbous moon, which no one but her remembered.

And like that, an idea came to her.

The next morning, with the sun barely risen, she trotted to meet the prince.

“Oh prince,” she said, doing her best to sound excited, “how go the arrangements for our wedding?”

“Arrangements?” he said, raising one eyebrow. “I thought it would just be a short ceremony later today...?”

Her face fell. She glowered at him.

“What," she said.

The dragon wilted in the face of her stare. His spines drooped and he hung his head. “Well, I just thought...”

"THIS IS A ROYAL WEDDING!” she said, the Canterlot Royal Voice shaking dust of the ceiling. “If we are not going to be BEAUTIFUL on OUR SPECIAL DAY, the we hardly see WHY WE SHOULD BE MARRYING YOU AT ALL!”

The dragon prince quivered. “B-but of course, my sweet. W-what do you require?”

“A dress,” said Luna, simply.

“Just a dress...?”

“And a matching dresses for the bridesmaids, and a suit for you, and the decorations, and the cake, and the food for the reception, and the venue for the reception, the guest lists, the music, the portrait-painter...”

The prince broke out into a nervous sweat. All this sounded... expensive. He was just about to interrupt, but Luna timed a flutter of her eyelashes just right, and he melted like butter.

So he set about making arrangements. Or rather, Luna told him what arrangements to make and he paid for them.

Well, his father would pay for them. The dragon prince first had to talk to him about it all.

“Faaaatheeer...” he said, drawing it out like all children asking for uncomfortable sums of money.

"What is it now?”

“Well, you see,” said the prince, wringing his hands together, “my dear bride to be has some rather... specific ideas about our wedding.”

“You mean expensive?” said the dragon king, who wasn't stupid.

"Well, father, it might not be cheap..."

The dragon king sighed

"I don't know what the world's coming to," he muttered. "In my day, if we needed anything we just took it. Why, when I was your age..."

So he went on about the youth of today, and how his son should get his own hoard some day, but in the end, he relented. A dressmaker was called from Equestria to make the dress (after all, dragons are not known for their haute couture), and of course, because this was a ROYAL WEDDING, only the best would do. In the event, however, they got Stitching Time, whose only claim to fame was his inability to finish anything on according to deadline. He arrived with his great travelling case, full of pins, needles, thread, swatches, bolts of silk, cotton, wool, and of course, his tape measure.

He grovelled before Luna. You know the kind of thing. Oh my dear Princess, I am not worthy, this miserable pony shall endeavour to do as best he can, etc etc etc. It was all the same to him, really. The dragon king was paying him a mint for this dress. Luna wasn’t in the mood for sycophancy, though.

“Come on now, get measuring.”

“Oh of course, of course.”

So he set about taking her dimensions, comparing fabrics to her coat, muttering arcane phrases of colour, texture and machine washability. He rushed over to his drawing board, sketching designs.

“Yes, yes...” he said. “It should be ready within a week.”

Luna nodded skeptically. If Stitching said a week, he meant a month. Which was what she needed, actually.

Time passed as time does. In the sky above Equestria, the moon waxed full. And deep down in the dragon city under the mountain, so did Luna. And at the end of that month, Stitching announced that the dress was ready. Luna went down in the company of the three chosen bridesmaids (all beautiful mares with deep purple coats and great, leathery wings who had arrived last week). Stitching Time hit the floor like it was going out of style when she walked in, bowing and scraping for all he was worth.

“Your dress is ready, your grace,” he said to the floor, apparently.

And it was. Say what you wanted about Stitching’s approach to deadlines, he knew dresses, and he’d poured his heart and soul into this one. Every seam was perfect, every last bit of lace. The bridesmaids took it off its stand carefully and held it up for Luna to step into. Stitching bit his hooves in anticipation.

Luna put one hoof forward into a sleeve and... RIP. It split right down the middle.

“It appears you have made it too small,” said Luna, imperiously.

If Stitching Time heard her, he gave no indication. His face had fallen, his mouth flapping.

“I... I... I’m...”

“Take our measurements and try again,” said Luna, nose high in the air. “I believe all it needs are a few adjustments.”

Stitching Time nodded dimly, picking up his tape measure. He took her measurements again (all the numbers were higher this time, but he didn’t comment on it) and went over to the torn dress. Luna exited with her bridesmaids, trying to ignore the sobbing and sniffing.

Stitching Time went back to the dress, but he didn’t just make adjustments. He tore up the old design and started again. So of course, it took him another month to finish this new, plus-size design.

The bill went straight to the dragon king, who stared at it. furiously.

"Another dress?" he roared. "Why on earth would she need ANOTHER dress?"

"B-because the first as too small, father," said the dragon prince, flinching.

The dragon king ranted again about the youth of today, and how back in his day, they'd marry there and then, and that'd be an end to it. But, of course, in the end, he relented.

Stitching worked away, as plans for the wedding were drawn up, rejected, re-drawn and rejected again, as the dragon king’s short temper was whittled down further, and as his treasure pile depleted from the cost of the whole thing. And all the while, the moon waned and waned high above the world. And underneath, in the dragon city, so did Luna. All according to plan.

So it came to be, a month later, on the day when the decorations arrived (long, tall pillars capped with ram's heads. A sop to the sheep, perhaps?) Stitching Time announced that the dress was ready. Luna was once again ushered down to see her dress. Stitching Time bowed low and gestured to it.

“Stitching Time?” Luna said, sweetly.

“Yes, your majesty?”

“Are you implying I am fat?”

He blustered. Didn’t say any actual words, just made blustery noises.

“Because I remember asking for a dress, not a tent.”

“P-perhaps is madam would just try it...?” Stitching Time ventured.

Luna harrumphed and stepped forward into the dress. Of course, it was like wearing a bedspread. It may have been beautiful, it may have been radiant, but it simply did not fit. Luna sighed deeply and threw it off.

“This will never do, Stitching. I must have another.”

He sighed, deeply and miserably, and nodded. It would be done.

Well, actually, it wouldn’t. When the bill came to the dragon king, he roared with fury.

“MORE GOLD? What possible use could he have for gold? He’s a tailor for heaven’s sake!”

The dragon king would have no more of this. He very quickly came to a very loud decision. He stormed to his son’s quarters and burst in.

“That’s it, son! You’re marrying that damn pony this week!” he said, fuming. “She’s been nothing but trouble since she arrived. Worse than that, she’s been nothing but a giant waste of money!”

The son protested and whined. Oh the preparations aren’t complete, she’s still hoping for the arrival of the band, I’m not ready to commit just yet. His father swept them all aside.

"You. Her. In front of the altar. NOW.”

So it was agreed (under a certain degree of duress), that that’s how it would be. The guards were sent to fetch Luna and... wait, where did those guards go?

“They’ve been gone an hour,” the king muttered. “Send some more.”

So the guards were sent to fetch Princess Luna and... how odd, they didn’t come back. And the dragon king is getting angry, so he storms off at the head of a little knot of guards. Now, I haven’t mentioned this, but a dragon storming is an impressive thing. The mountains shook from top to bottom, such was his anger.

They reached her chamber, burst in, and found it empty. Well, apart from the guards. Ten hand-picked bodyguards all tied up with strips of... was that lace? One of them had a note pinned to him.

Dear Dragon King

Sorry I cannot attend the wedding. I am afraid I have been rescued by my loyal Night Guards. Thank you awfully for the room, and sorry about the dresses. Stitching Time has decided to come with us, despite your outstanding debt to him.

Yours sincerely, Luna.

The dragon king's eyes boggled and bulged. They wandered around the room, over to the hole rammed in the wall, beside the pillar. The pillar? Oh, it was one of the ones Luna had insisted on for the reception. Long, sturdy, and capped with a ram's head. One of the expensive ones made with reinforced iron. His fury built up. Steam poured out of his ears. Then, he remembered his treasure pile, much depleted from the wedding planning, remembered his son's constant whining about his bride, and remembered that, whatever else might happen, he was still king.

"Oh thank god!" he said, laughing with great, booming chuckles. "She's gone!"

So Princess Luna returned to Equestria to rule with her sister. The dragon king passed away within a few centuries (they said it was the stress), and his son inherited the throne. But he was no king. He was reasonable, generous and forgiving, and the dragon kingdoms fell apart in a flurry of squabbles and civil wars.

Equestria knew peace, for a time. Well, until the time of Wooliam Wallace. But that's a story for later.