Chapter 15: Something Old, Something New, The Blushing Bride, and Her Reluctant Groom: Part I: Old Friends, New Wounds
The Book of Water: The Marriage of the Slave King
A Story by TalonMach5
Chapter 15: Something Old, Something New, The Blushing Bride, and Her Reluctant Groom: Part I: Old Friends, New Wounds
There was a wayfarer from the south, in the wilds he did roam.
Defending the defenseless, it’s to him I sing this ode.
With a soul full of justice, he punished every foe.
Fearless guardian of the downtrodden, it’s to this that we him owe.
Black and green, black and green.
The wayfarer from the south, he wore the black and green.
He fought the worst villains, too numerous to list.
Rendering his verdict, with battle hardened fists.
Ascending from the dark Earth, he landed against evil many great blows.
To those who broke Triton’s law, they deserved every punch he did throw.
Black and green, black and green.
The wayfarer from the south, he wore the black and green.
Beneath his mask, beats a heart, which yearns for all to be free.
His face he could never share, his true name shall ever be a mystery.
But why should he standalone against the Slave King, in a fight that he just can’t win.
If asked, the wayfarer would tell you… Someone’s got to stand up to all this sin.
Black and green, black and green.
The wayfarer from the south, he wore the black and green.
-Author Unknown, Ode to the Unknown Wayfarer
“It’s your move, Soul Weaver,” the ancient kirin said, impatiently tapping his hoof, as he waited for his opponent to make his next move.
“Impatient you are, Lord Raiden, I see, but don’t be so hasty to go, because you’ll lose by turn three,” the large yellow spider rhymed, as he moved the finely crafted piece carefully to its new position on the large board.
“You may control the fate, of far lesser intellects, Lord Ananse,” Raiden said, carefully studying the location of all the pieces on the board, while contemplating his next move. The drab room they were playing in, seemed to do little to improve his sour move. In order to escape the worthless gossip of his mentally deficient peers on the pantheon, he’d suggested playing their game in one of the Slave King’s unused dungeons. “But my intellect is far greater than you could possibly comprehend.”
“To your boasting and blustering, I shall not fall,” Lord Ananse said, clicking his black and yellow mandibles together. “Methinks, you’re simply trying to stall.”
“Stalling for time, in my moment of triumph?” Lord Raiden asked, offended that Ananse would ever suggest such a thing. “I think you overestimate your chances.”
Lord Ananse said nothing, instead smiled contentedly, as he spun a small tapestry as he waited. Examining the board with all eight of his eyes, they narrowed, when he saw where Lord Raiden moved his next piece.
“You say yours is the greater mind,” Lord Ananse said, moving his piece and succeeding in taking one of Lord Raiden’s poorly defended positions. “But to my eight eyes, I say you’re simply blind.”
“You incipient arachnid!” Lord Raiden growled, when he saw that he’d just lost control over half the board. “Greater minds than yours, have tried defeating me at this game. But all have failed, and all have gone mad in their unworthy attempts at succeeding.”
“Twas not my intent to make your expansive ego burst,” Lord Ananse chuckled. “But it pleases me, by defeating you at this game, the honor goes to me first.”
Angrily grinding his teeth at his fellow god’s ribbing, the Seer tried looking for any weakness on the board or loophole in the rules he could exploit. His warped and gnarled horns crackled, as he began calculating in his mind, the probability of success for each move he could still make.
It didn’t look good. Most of his pieces were away from his poorly defended keep. He’d originally hoped that by playing aggressively against his traditionally defensive opponent, he could forgo his defenses, in lieu of a greater number of attackers. Unfortunately, he’d failed to anticipate his opponent deciding on using traps versus his usual fortifications, which cost him most of his pieces.
“Lord Raiden, I see that times does waste,” Lord Ananse said, tapping his leg impatiently. “Make your move, or do you hesitate?”
“Don’t try pressuring me, into making any premature moves, Lord Ananse,” Lord Raiden said, giving the large yellow spider a sour look. “I gave you plenty of time to make your move, when you wanted it!”
Ananse, raised his legs up in defeat, as he waited for the kirin to make his move. They had been playing this same game, ever since the Solar Council had been called. He could tell by how the Slave King had been acting, that he’d been expecting violence rather than a marriage proposal. Although when Celestia had announced who the Slave King was to wed, he wasn’t surprised in the least. Most of the members of the Solar Council, had assumed that he would have selected either Lady Zephyr or Lady Minoa. But he knew better, his web, and the threads of fate, dictated that Luna would marry the Slave King. Thus was it written, and so did it happen.
Though many of the pantheon, were worried when Lady Suzaku never returned, he was unconcerned. She was doing, as his web showed she would. Thus was it written, and so did it happen. Returning his gaze back to the board, he smiled when he saw that Lord Raiden had just made a fatal mistake, leaving him defeated by turn three, just as he said thus was it written, and so did it happen.
“So, Ananse,” Lord Raiden said, giving his adversary a hard look, as he pointed to where he’d moved his piece on the board. He’d made a strong and bold move, unless Lord Ananse moved to protect his sovereign this turn, it would be checkmate on his next turn. “I believe you were saying something about defeating me in three turns.”
Lord Ananse, moved his hidden ambushers, taking out Lord Raiden’s sovereign. “Lord Raiden, I believe you’re checkmated,” he said, rubbing his mandibles together, greatly pleased with his victory. “I suppose your defeat today, must have been fated.”
“Nooo!” Lord Raiden howled, when he saw that he’d just been bested by an inferior intellect. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself, and looked down at the board sheepishly. “My apologies, Lord Ananse, for my slight outburst. I guess my shock at losing to you, overwhelmed me. Might you care to play again?”
Lord Ananse gave the kirin a wide smile. “I can tell by your plea,” he said. “That you desire, the best two out of three.”
“You’re damn right I want a rematch,” he replied, setting the board back up his magic. The sound of one of the Slave King’s heavily armored doomhounds, drew their attention away from their game. Looking to see who it was that dared interrupt him, before he could humble Lord Ananse, he saw the blue ethereal glow of Scourge, the Hunter. Who had until recently, been considered one of the Slave King’s most trusted lieutenants. Scourge was being escorted by Nightmare, another of the Slave King’s servants. “Look at how lowly the Slave King considers us, Ananse. That we should suffer to share lodging with a traitor.”
“My apologies, Lord Raiden, for any discomfort my presence here might cause you,” Scourge said, bowing deeply to the two gods. “The Slave King will deal with me shortly.”
The kirin snorted in disgust, offended that the traitor deigned speak to him unbidden. “He’d better,” Raiden impatiently groused, unhappy he’d have to spend any time with him at all.
Seeing her prisoner had stopped moving, Nightmare released a low growl. Stop talking, traitor!” her eyes demanded, while knocking against him hard with her muscled body.
Scourge said nothing. Lowering his head in submission to his jailer, he walked deeper into the Slave King’s forsaken dungeon.
Nightmare escorted him into an empty cell. Though no earthly prison could ever hope to hold him, he’d rather face judgment from the one he called friend, than escape to freedom. Heading towards a dark corner, he turned around thrice, before laying down on his haunches. Sighing in resignation, he rested his head on his paws.
She gave him a derisive snort, and closed the cell behind him. Before leaving him to await judgment at the paw of their master, she looked over her shoulder at him. So this is the fate of the great Scourge, she said, feeling nothing but disgust for his betrayal against their king. Rotting away in a dungeon, as he awaits execution. So tell me, Scourge. Was it worth it, betraying us, for that pony?
Scourge looked up from his paws, and sighed once. “Far better that I suffer for this, than him,” he said, resigning himself to his fate.
Shaking her head at his foolishness, she left Scourge, the Hunter and his cell behind. Before returning to her own duties, she shot a dirty look at Lord Raiden who seemed to be losing to Lord Ananse once more.
“Go slink back to the shadows where you belong, Pit fiend,” he said, stroking his hoof thoughtfully against his unkempt beard. Running his eyes along the board, he found the opening that would win him the game and restore his unblemished record. “Ananse, I think you’ll be rhyming another tune shortly.”
Nightmare dug her claws into the stone floor beneath her paws. Had Lord Raiden been mortal she would’ve devoured him for his insult against the Slave King and herself. And even though Scourge was a traitor, he was still ten times the hound the deity could ever hope to be. Remembering her master’s wrath for her attack against Princess Luna, she decided to take a slightly different approach to avenging herself this time.
Picking up several pieces with his magic, Lord Raiden moved them forward, sure that this aggressive tactic would win him the game. “Ananse, I hope you’re prepared to eat crow tonight,” he boasted, feeling confident that his victory against the Soul Weaver was imminent.
Lord Ananse gave his braggart opponent a wry smile. “My friend, I fear your victory here won’t be hurried,” he said, finishing up the small silk tapestry he’d been working on.
Nightmare approached them as he spoke, lifted her paw, and slammed it down as hard as she could. When her heavy paw met the game board, the pieces flew in every direction, robbing Lord Raiden of his victory. Satisfied her work here was complete, she left them and the dungeon behind her.
“Not as long as the lady’s heart is still in a fury,” he said, completing his rhyme and handing the tiny tapestry to Lord Raiden.
Picking up the tapestry with his magic, Lord Raiden narrowed his eyes angrily at what he saw. Lord Ananse had woven the entire scene, depicting Nightmare scattering the board, and himself grinding his teeth in anger, as that fat spider looked on, grinning at his misfortune.
Seeing his fellow deity’s anger, Lord Ananse moved to leave. “Lord Raiden, here’s something to think about, as you grind your teeth, and stew and pout,” he cheerfully said. “It not me that you should hate, instead direct your anger to the threads of fate.”
Laughing at the kirin’s fury, he left behind Lord Raiden as he busily collected his game’s pieces with his magic. Climbing up a nearby wall, and along the ceiling towards his quarters, he chuckled. And they called Lord Raiden, the Seer! More like a dim two eyed fool, blindly grasping at a future he could barely scry, let alone comprehend. Only he, could feel the vibrations of the invisible and innumerable strings of fate that were tied to every living soul, save one. And soon the last, would finally be woven into his proper place, in the warp of his great weave. He wondered what they might say, if each of those who’d played their part in bringing the tangler to heel, knew what lay in store.
Spying the upcoming preparations for the Slave King’s nuptials, he smiled, pleased with what he’d wrought this day. Thus was it written, and so it did happen, he mused, before retiring to a ledge, as he waited for his tapestry’s weave to come to fruition.
*****
Standing in front of a mirror, the Slave King carefully weighed the two choices before him. Matters such as these, could never be taken lightly. The smallest misstep or miscalculation, would be an irrevocable error he’d be forever forced to live with. Though normally he wasn’t one to make decisions lightly, sometimes he had no other option but make his choice and hope for the best. But lately, so many weighty and pressing issues were hounding him from all sides, he barely had enough time to consider his current dilemma, before the next crisis presented itself to him.
“Arch Duke Yipyap,” he said, stroking his greying beard thoughtfully, as he pondered what he should do about this. “I’ve come to appreciate your opinion on matters such as these. What do you think?”
The diamond dog noble put down the half full goblet he’d been drinking from, and gave his lord a thoughtful look. “Well, I can appreciate the virtue both options offer,” he said, weighing the Slave King’s choices carefully. “This could be an opportunity to remind everyhound present, that you’re still somehound that should be feared and respected. But on the other paw, you must consider your bride to be feelings on the matter.”
The Slave King gave the arch duke a flat look, which seemed to belie his disbelief that he’d ever consider such a thing. “You can’t seriously expect me to make any future decisions with my wife’s desires in mind,” he growled, displeased that perhaps he might actually have to change how he ruled, to suit her whims.
“That’s entirely up to your discretion, my liege,” the arch duke replied, taking a sip of wine from his goblet, as he opened a book. “However, it’s said, that a happy wife makes for a happy home.”
“One of Lord Raiden’s sayings I take it?” he asked, as he eyed the book thoughtfully.
“Well more or less, Slave King,” he said, finishing his wine. “I summarized the saying somewhat, what Lord Raiden had written, seemed rather unhelpful in this instance.”
Narrowing his eyes with displeasure, he could only imagine what the seer had written about him in that particular saying. He was glad that the arch duke had decided to spare him the dross. The last thing he needed right now, was something else to anger him unnecessarily.
However, he still had this pressing choice to contend with, and was unsure what his final decision should be. “Arch duke, if this was your choice to make, what would you decide?” he asked, deciding that whatever he picked, would be as good as choice as any he might have made.
The arch duke, chewed his lower lip for a moment, as he mulled it over in his mind. “Definitely go with the black,” he said, pointing towards the black satin doublet the Slave King held in his left hand. “While the green matches your heraldry, it’s sure to clash with the bride’s coat and dress.”
“You’re probably right,” the Slave King said, placing the green doublet down, and trying on the black.
“Your majesty?” a feminine and slightly stressed voiced called out. “Have you made your choice yet? Please say yes, we’ve so much left to do, and so little time to do it in.”
“Yes, Ringing Bells,” he said, adjusting his doublet’s fasteners, as he examined himself in the mirror. “I believe the black, is best suited for my wedding.”
“Oh, thank Celestia,” she replied, wiping the sweat that had accumulated on her brow with her hoof. “When Princess Luna’s dressmaker heard I’d made you a set of green clothes for the wedding, she almost blew her top.”
“Well, it looks like the crisis has been adverted then,” the Slave King said, giving the fashionista a grin. “By the way, would you remove the sleeves?”
“Whatever for?” she asked, concerned that she’d made the sleeves too tight. “If I remove them, your scars and brands will be visible.”
“Exactly,” he replied, pointing towards the brands that had once marked him the property of the Gem Biter clan.
The brand showed a set of jaws biting down on a large gem, surrounded by chains. Though he held no love for his former master’s, he felt that his brand was as good a symbol as any to represent his reign. As a result, the brand was displayed on his flag, heraldry, and seal. Every slave in his domain, from the greatest authority, like the arch duke, to the lowest slave toiling away in the mines, shared the mark. In a way, though he’d utterly obliterated their clan and family line, they would never be forgotten.
“But they’ll clash horribly with your lovely clothes,” she protested, unsure how she could possibly draw attention away from the ugly red scars prominently displayed on his biceps.
Knowing she meant that she found his brands repugnant, he frowned. “Any official government business, requires my brands to be visible,” he said, removing the doublet and his iron crown, so she could see all his burns and scars. “If the bride to be, finds my brands so nauseating, she’d better call off the wedding, because there’s no way in Hades that she’d ever make it through our wedding night.”
Though she’d seen him nearly naked before, the sight of his many scars, always made her feel a bit ill. “My apologies, your majesty,” she said, bowing low to him, and sorry she’d offended him about his scars. “I’m sure Princess Luna is delighted that she’s able to marry such a handsome stallion as yourself.”
Seeing her back pedal, he chuckled as he placed his iron crown back over his head. “There’s no need to sugar coat it,” he said, running a finger down several of his numerous scars. “I’m not suffering under any delusions that I’m some great beauty, I know most find my scars quite ghastly.”
“Now that’s not quite true, your majesty,” she said, trying to stroke his ego, hoping to smooth out any feathers she might have ruffled over her thoughtless comment. “I’m sure I can still make you look fabulous, even with all the scars. I’ll simply need to approach things from a different angle.”
“I’m sure whatever you design will be superb,” he said, releasing the doublet from his hand and into her waiting magical hold.
“No, that’s not good enough,” she forcefully said, allowing her styled mane to become a tad frazzled and out of place. “I promise you, your majesty, that your wedding clothes will be resplendent, and you’ll be the envy of the pantheon for centuries to come!”
Seeing how serious the little fashionista was being about this, brought a smile to his lips. Being forced to marry against his will, had placed him in a sour mood, and it was nice being able to laugh at even a small thing. He wondered what Scourge might have said, if he was by his side. But then remembered his betrayal, and scowled.
Though everyone in his domain were treacherous by necessity towards one another, a byproduct of the harsh existence foisted upon the denizens of his domain, by the unforgiving nature of the Earth. Scourge’s betrayal had cut him deeper than he ever thought would be possible. Nightmare’s earlier assault on Luna could be explained away due to jealousy, or her normally churlish nature. Being female, he’d often expected her to be moody and insubordinate when it suited her. However, what Scourge had done was completely unexpected. He didn’t even really mind the theft of, The Vendetta, as much as his failure to come to his aid when he cried out for help.
He’d never given much thought to their relationship before, he was the master, and Scourge was his loyal servant. But over the centuries, their dynamic had changed beyond master and servant, into something much more profound. He was his only friend, if such a being as he could actually have one. Ever since he’d lost Snowe, he’d been lost, adrift in a treacherous sea of betrayal. He could never afford to trust anyone. Even those who claimed to love him, regardless of their reasons, had eventually betrayed him in some way. But Scourge… Scourge, he was different. He’d only ever served him faithfully. He’d even returned from the Summerlands to aid his king… No, to aid his friend.
Friendship, he angrily thought, as the sting of Scourge’s betrayal brought the bitter taste of bile to his tongue. Celestia often preached the virtues of friendship, how it was the key to harmony, and possessed a special magic all its own. But she was wrong, he knew that now. Harmony was a lie. Friendship was a lie. All they offered him, was a new chance to experience heartache and betrayal. Looking into the mirror, he saw his reflection staring back at him. His burning green eyes flickered, as the magic sustaining them, threatened to die out. If only he didn’t possess this hateful knowledge. If only he could forget what had been done against him. He’d gladly trade his crown, throne, and all his domain, to return to how things once were. Oh how he wished that his heart still beat in his chest, so he could remove it once more, and stop the great ache that threatened to overwhelm him.
What should he do with him? His treason, allowed for only one punishment. Execution. But that would be an impossibility, for how could any kill one who’d already died. Besides, Scourge’s spirit was forever linked to his own. As such, he was destined to remain in the world of the living until the end of days. There was always banishment, but no decree he could offer, could prevent the doomhound from going wherever he pleased. And imprisonment, would likewise be as futile. There was one punishment left, one he’d only ever used sparingly for the most heinous of crimes. But he found himself unwilling to consider it. Scourge had served him faithfully for so long, he could never do that to him, no matter how great his betrayal had been.
Lowering his head, he looked down into his empty hands and shook his head. “Scourge, my friend…” he mourned. “Why?”
*****
Luna stood on the raised platform, as the seamstress was putting the last finishing touches to her wedding gown. Her wedding, the thought of it made her as giddy as a filly who’d just received her cutie mark. Looking into the mirrors surrounding her, she saw that her dress would be perfection itself.
Her gown was composed of blue silk as dark as the night, and silvery white satin that shone like the full moon. Dozens of ponies, had worked long into the evening, sewing hundreds of gems into the delicate fabric of the gown, bridal train, and veil. She was sure that when she walked down the aisle towards the altar, she would be the envy of everypony present. Deity and mortal alike. Looking at her reflection, she nodded approvingly at her manedresser’s choice in flowers, that were used to adorn her mane and tail. Her stylist, had used the fragrant blossoms that only grew within Lord Darkpaw’s temple. A fitting choice, she thought.
Looking to her left, she saw her silver crown resting on a black velvet pillow besides the rest of her royal vestments. The diamonds adorning it, sparkled like the stars in her mane, and she wore it wherever she went. Resting on a ponyquin nearby, her silver peytral which bore her cutie mark, waited for her to don it once her dress fitting was complete. Levitating the crown before her, she considered its weight, against her sister’s relatively larger crown.
Your tiara, is certainly fitting for a princess, the voice whispered into her mind. But you’re marrying a king, shouldn’t that entitle you to wear a queen’s diadem instead?
Our betrothed might be called the Slave King, Luna replied, studying the gems adorning her crown carefully, as she looked for any flaws that might tarnish her wedding day. But he’s still only the Lord of Earth, nothing more. Besides, we and our sister, are equals in all things.
Then answer this question, Princess Luna, the voice said, demanding an answer to its inquiry. Why is her crown larger than yours, if you are equal in all things?
When she heard the question, she narrowed her eyes in disapproval at how small her crown seemed to be. Perhaps the voice had a point after all. Shouldn’t her crown be just as grand as Celestia’s? Wasn’t she just as regal and divine as her sister? Didn’t she deserve… Nay, she was owed a crown as magnificent, or even greater, than her sister’s?
Yes, you do, Queen Luna, the voice said, offering her visions of what the future held for her as the Slave King’s wife.
She was once again, beloved and respected by all. Her ponies sought out her night, offering her their praise and devotion at her hooves. Her sister’s sun, would pale in comparison to the glory of her moon. And even the other races would seek her out, to receive her blessing. But all the while, she saw her sister in the background, glaring jealously at her good fortune.
Looking once more at her unimpressive tiny crown, she placed it back on the satin pillow, suddenly feeling rather dissatisfied by it. But then she remembered what the voice had called her. Queen Luna, we like it, she thought, smiling, as she imagined the much larger crown she’d have her husband make for her, once their honeymoon had concluded.
The sound of hooves approaching, interrupted her fantasy, returning her to reality. Looking into the mirror, she saw that her sister had come to pay her a visit. “Celestia…” she coolly said, resting her eyes thoughtfully on her sister’s golden crown. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
Celestia laid her ears back, worried that she had somehow inadvertently offended her sister once more. By all rights, today should be a joyous day for her sister, and she didn’t want to spoil things for her.
Walking towards her, Celestia offered her a plaintive look. “Luna, you look marvelous in your dress,” she said, hoping to assuage her sister’s anger. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Truly, sister?” Luna asked, remembering all the looks and nuzzling Celestia had given the Slave King recently. “We wonder, if perhaps thou wished our fortunes were reversed.”
“Luna!” Celestia sharply said, admonishing her for thinking such a thing. You’re my little sister, and seeing you happy once more, is all I ever wanted. If I had to choose between your happiness and a mate to call my own, I would choose your happiness every time.”
When she heard her sister’s devotion and willingness to sacrifice on her behalf, Luna felt her heart sink inside her chest, and lowered her head in shame over her petty behavior. “Celestia, forgive us for thinking ill of thee,” she said, as tears threatened to escape her teal eyes.
Seeing her sister nearly in tears, pricked her heart with compassion. Instantly forgetting her brusque words, she trotted to Luna’s side, and embraced her with her wing. “You’re my little sister, Luna,” she said, holding her tight. “I’ll love you no matter what!”
I wonder, would she still love you, if you were, Luna, the Black? the voice sinisterly asked.
Luna recalled the dark thoughts she held back in the mine, and shivered at the memory. Looking up at Celestia, she sought her approval. “No matter what, sister, dost thou promise it?” she asked, nearly pleading with her sister to say yes.
Nuzzling her gently, Celestia rested her head against her sister’s. “Of course, Luna,” she lovingly said.
“But pray tell, shoulds’t our marriage to the Slave King snatch us away from thee, what then?” she asked.
Offering her younger sibling a warm smile, she lit up her horn, driving all the shadows in the room away. “Then, dear sister,” she promised, picking up her sister’s crown and placing it gently on her head. “I swear by the moot, even if it takes me forever and a day, I shall drive the shadows away, so you can return to my side once more.”
Reassured by her sister’s vow, Luna immediately felt much better. “Forgive us, Celestia,” she said, burying her muzzle inside her sister’s mane. “We art such a silly foal, and undeserving of such a kind and benevolent sister as thee.”
Celestia offered Luna another warm smile, and placed her mouth near her ear. “Besides, Luna, if the Slave King decides to keep you all to himself, I’ll just have to threaten to marry him as well,” she whispered conspiratorially.
“Then we shall have to ensure such never comes to pass, dear sister,” Luna replied, returning her sister’s smile with a grin of her own.
Celestia released a gentle laugh, and looked at her sister’s reflection. “You look so beautiful, Luna,” she said, standing beside her. “Surely, ever lady amongst the pantheon will be green with envy, and every lord will burn with passion.”
“We wonder if the Slave King will burn as well,” Luna said, remembering how fiercely he’d opposed the very idea of getting married.
“I wanted to discuss him with you before the wedding,” she said, admiring her flowing gown and the intricate hoofwork that had gone into its construction.
Luna rolled her eyes at her sister’s concerns. “Dearest sister, this is hardly our first marriage,” she replied, somewhat annoyed that her sister didn’t think she was up to the job of properly handling her husband to be. “The Slave King might be a stallion mired in sorrow, but he’s still a stallion with needs.”
“I just don’t want you being disappointed,” Celestia said, remembering how easily he’d frustrated her carefully laid out plans. “Should things between the two of you, not progress like you think they should.”
“A stallion’s heart is not such a difficult thing to capture,” she haughtily said, swishing her tail suggestively. “We need only offer him the proper reinforcement, and our husband will swiftly come to heel.”
Celestia sighed, when her sister got like this, there wasn’t any reasoning with her. “Alright, Luna,” she said, turning to leave her sister to her wedding preparations. “I’ll see you before the wedding.”
Before she could exit, she found herself stopped by Luna’s magic. Turning to see what she wanted, she found herself caught in her sister’s strong embrace. “Celestia,” she said, looking into her eyes. “We wished to say, thank you, and that we love you dearly.”
Basking in her sister’s affection, she lowered her head against her, closed her eyes, and smiled. “I love you too, Luna,” she said, before breaking free of her embrace. “Now come on, you’d better finish getting ready. You wouldn’t want to be late for your own wedding, now would you?”
“Nay, t’would be calamitous, sister,” she replied, as she headed back to the raised platform. “We shalt resume our preparations.”
Pleased to see her sister smiling once more, she exited the room, and headed to speak with the groom to be.
*****
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to let us stay, at least until after the wedding?” he asked her, as she looked out the window towards the direction of the Slave King’s palace that lay in the distance.
They were back in the city now, preparing for the long flight back home. Home, how long had it been since he’d been there? Though it had been a little over a month since he’d last seen their mountain home, it seemed like almost a lifetime ago. He thought about all the things he’d done since he’d stolen away in the dark of the night, and smiled at the memories. He thought of the naivety he possessed when he first started this adventure, and smiled. He’d thought it would have been an easy task to fly to the south, impress his father, and take his rightful place at his side. Instead, he’d gained a family he never knew existed, fought traitors and monsters alike, and found some good friends.
He remembered Bucky, the pegasus. He wondered how he was enjoying his freedom, and if he’d ever see him again. He hoped that he’d take him up on his invitation to visit him in the Golden Eyrie, if he ever headed north. He thought of Gunhilde, the reindeer battlemage, now turned cup bearer for his father. When they fought each other over the skies of Bone’s Landing, all he could think of was the glory her capture would grant him. But now, he felt guilt eating away at him. He’d been instrumental in her capture, and now she was a slave. His only consolation, was that she was serving in an honored position of his father’s court, rather than being prostituted as a tent doe.
His mother still hadn’t answered him though. All she could do, was stare listlessly out the window. He honestly had no idea, what had transpired during the meeting that had made her like this. Though judging by the wedding preparations, he had a pretty good idea. She’d nearly been as excited as he had, before he’d slammed into the cold wall of reality that was the Slave King. He’d seen the looks of adoration she’d given his at his inauguration ceremony, when he’d defended her from Lord Ouroboros, and during dinner. But now, the Slave King was marrying somefeather else. He remembered what he’d asked Melody earlier, Why wasn’t I good enough for him? Though she’d no answer to give him, he’d eventually accepted the reality of things. But that didn’t make his heart ache any less, and he was sure his mother was even more familiar with the pain then he was.
“Dawson love,” he heard his mother say. “Come to me, please.”
“Of course, mother,” he replied, walking towards her.
He could see her storm blue eyes and silvery plumage reflected from the window at him. Though she tried to hide it, he could tell by her red eyes, that she’d been crying. Laying his talon comfortingly on her shoulder, he looked down at her. “I love you, mother,” he said, wishing there was some way he could help her.
Lady Zephyr looked up at her son, and smiled. It was neither a smile of joy or happiness, but of contentment. Though her heart still ached to be held by the feather she loved above all others, she still had a piece of him to hold onto, his best piece, reminding her of the love they once shared together. Grabbing hold of him, she embraced him tightly, not daring to let go, lest he too be taken from her.
Nearly suffocating from his mother’s embrace, he felt the love she held for him, washing over him. It felt quite similar to when Melody had hugged him as well. He’d miss her, he thought. All her good natured teasing, the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and the cheerful smile she always wore. And though he’d just patched things up with Aria, he was sure, given time, they would’ve been friends at least. And then there was, Dame Squall, the beautiful seapony mare. He sighed, remembering how her body felt, when he’d held her in his arms.
Breaking their embrace, Lady Zephyr looked at her son. “Come, Dawson, let’s go,” she said, sighing in resignation.
Though he knew he’d have to leave sometime, until she said the words, let’s go, the reality of things hadn’t sunk in yet. He desperately wanted to stay, but knew that right now, his mother needed him by her side.
“Okay, mother,” he reluctantly said, stretching out his wings and preparing to take flight. Ensuring that he had everything prepared for their long journey, he tightened his pack’s straps, and leapt into the air. Hovering above the landing, he waited for her to join him.
Lady Zephyr, gave the broken lava dome in the distance, one last forlorn look, before stretching out her wings, and joining her son in the air. Pumping her powerful wings, she gained altitude over the Neo Vale, as she headed north. Without another word, Dawson followed after her, only pausing momentarily, to look back towards the friends he’d made, and hoped to one day see again.
*****
Melody leaned back in her chair, playing a soft melody, as she absentmindedly plucked the strings of her lute. She often played it, when she had a lot on her mind. She found the music therapeutic. She and her sisters, were going to playing the part of the Slave King’s groomsfeathers. She was under the impression, the role was usually played by the groom’s closest male friends. But as the Slave King had few if any friends, it had been decided that his court advisers would fill the needed roles.
When she complained, that she didn’t have anything nice enough to wear for an event this important, the Slave King glowered at her, and told her to improvise. As a harper, she owned many nice pieces of clothing, but nothing that seemed to say wedding to her. Looking at the large pile of clothing laid out on her bed, she sighed in defeat, when nothing seemed appropriate. It was easy for the Slave King to tell her to improvise, he had a personal seamstress making all his wedding clothed.
She wasn’t even sure, what the point of holding a formal wedding ceremony was. The Slave King seemed thoroughly unenthusiastic about the whole affair, and if what she’d read about Luna was true; she, like the rest of the goddesses of the pantheon, had been married many times previously. Which brought her to another point of contention, she had no idea how Princess Luna had managed to get the upper hand over the others. She was sure, her mother, or Lady Zephyr would have won. But instead, Princess Luna, sister to the head of the pantheon, was the victor. As far as she was concerned, things seemed out of place. But if the Slave King wasn’t going to protest the results, why should she?
Though she had no proof, she was almost certain that somefeather had arranged things to occur just so. But who on the pantheon could it possibly be, who had the power to see the future, and more importantly, why didn’t she have a dress she could wear to this wedding?
Sighing in frustration, she put down her lute, and began the process of choosing the clothes she would wear to the wedding in earnest. I guess this will have to remain an unsolved mystery, she thought, as she held up a black linen blouse against her breast.
Hearing a soft knock at her door, she glanced towards the welcome distraction, and placed the blouse atop all her other clothing. “Yes. Come in, it’s open,” she said, holding up a silver corset with one hand, and holding a red silken waistcoat with the other. “So, Harmony, which do you think is more appropriate to wear to the wedding?”
“I thought you might want to know, Melody. Dawson, left to go home with his mother,” she said, entering her sister’s room.
Melody narrowed her eyes, and inhaled sharply. “I figured that’s what would happen,” she sadly replied. “I wish I could have told him goodbye, before he left.”
“They didn’t leave very long ago,” Harmony said, gesturing towards the broken lava dome that was viewable from the terrace. “You might be able to catch up with them if you leave now.”
“But there’s all the wedding preparations I need to help oversee, Master Scourge’s trial to attend to, and worst of all, I still don’t have a thing to wear to King Daddy’s wedding,” she said, waving her hands in the air dramatically.
“Go, Melody, I’ll handle the wedding preparations,” she said, holding up a thick itinerary. “Aria will see to Master Scourge’s trial, and as for your clothing, I’ll see if I can’t talk Ringing Bells into refashioning some of your clothing into something more wedding appropriate.”
“Oh, thank you so much, Harmony!” Melody said, giving her sister a tight embrace. “Why are you doing this, aren’t you always telling me I need to take my responsibilities more seriously?”
“Family’s important too,” she replied, giving her sister a kindly smile.
“But how could he be family, with his mother being Lady Zephyr?” Melody asked, curious if she was finally ready to admit the truth regarding their father’s true identity.
Harmony ground her teeth in exasperation at her sister’s antics. “I was referring to you, Melody, not Dawson,” she said, giving her a hard look. “The Slave King has no children.”
“Well not if Princess Luna has anything to say about it,” Melody said, before unfurling her wings and leaping off her room’s terrace. Hovering in the air, she looked down at her sister in gratitude. “Thank you, Harmony, for giving me the chance to tell our brother goodbye. Have any messages you wish to pass on to him?”
Harmony was about to scold her sister for insinuating the Slave King had children once more, but stopped. She remembered, how bravely he’d fought with her against the ghast, and realized she would be honored to call him brother. “Melody, tell Dawson, the South will always be welcome to him,” she said, waving her sister goodbye.
“Can do, see you later Harmony,” Melody said, before beating her wings as fast as she could. She was determined to catch up with Dawson, and offer him her farewell. Even though it wouldn’t be from the one he undoubtedly wanted it from, she would give him his goodbye hug with all the love she possessed. Ensuring that he knew that he would always be welcomed back in the South, with wings wide open.
Catching a thermal draft, she gained altitude, trying to catch them before they left the domain. “I’m coming for you, brother,” she said with a grin.
*****
“You are not prepared,” he said, glaring with malice at his target.
With hate fueled rage, he hurled a spear of ice, much harder than any tempered steel, at the ice sculpture that he was using for target practice. The icy spear flew straight and true, penetrating the sculpture with ease, and shattering it into bits, before impaling the wall behind it. Channeling magic into his antlers, he created another identical sculpture of his hated enemy, and prepared to hurl another ice shard at the target of his malevolence.
“You think to steal my doe from me?” he accused his silent target, while his rage fueled eyes glowed red.
Sending the icy shard flying with his magic, it burrowed deeply into the ice sculpture, before its innate magic activated. Within seconds, the shard expanded, making the target explode into a fine mist of icy particles. With bloodlust in his eyes, he prepared another ice sculpture to destroy. Trying to decide how he should dispatch his foe this time, he looked around the room for inspiration.
“My enemy, you are not prepared.”
He thought of his fellow deities, led by Triton and Celestia, as they announced who would be the Slave King’s bride, and snorted in anger, when he thought of him touching her, with his wicked and depraved hands.
Though you might have fooled the others, and lulled them into a false sense of security,” he continued, grinding the target’s broken pieces into the ground with his silver shod hoof. “Yet, I alone, remain vigilant.”
All around him, the shattered remains of hundreds of broken ice sculptures littered the ground. And nearly as many ice spears and shards, were buried into the walls and floor, each leaving behind a thick coating of ice where they had struck. Then inspiration hit him. Wearing a vicious smile, he prepared for his next attack. With macabre glee, he formed several thick spike covered disks. Levitating and spinning them with his magic, the impromptu saws sparked when they touched each other. With maniacal laughter, he thinly vivisected the target dummy into pieces. Imagining all the while, that the icy mist covering him, was the crimson blood of his enemy.
“My foe, you are not prepared.”
But it wasn’t enough, he needed something more.
“You think you’re safe in the heart of your Domain? I say you’re a fool,” he declared, shaking his antlers menacingly.
Considering his enemy, he decided he needed something special to give the groom on his wedding day. A special gift, to the fabulist and prevaricator, who’d stolen her away from him, with his poisoned words and wicked forked tongue. Recompense, to the perverse wayfarer fornicator, who’d defiled his moon flower with his tainted soul. Reckoning, to the sneak thief and plunderer, who’d robbed him of his honor and friend. Revengeance, to the butcher and godslayer, who’d already ended one of their number, and who’d undoubtedly continue in his murderous ways, if given another opportunity. Retribution, to the pretender and charlatan, who sat on a stolen throne, who even now, was evading justice for his crimes. Ruination, to the monstrous and uncivilized beast, whose stubborn refusal to meet his end, was an affront to all that was good in the world.
“My nemesis, you are not prepared.”
Picking up his spear, he inspected its ice covered tip, and frost covered shaft. Yes, this would be the weapon of his redress, the means to his reparation, and the key to his revenge.
“Rimefrost is coming for you,” he vowed, holding the weapon aloft. “Soon, you will know the winter of my discontent.”
Channeling his magic into the spear, he engraved it with the forbidden power of blood runes. Each spoke of the hatred he held for his enemy, and was empowered with his rage infused blood. When he was finished, he looked upon his creation with pride. Though it wasn’t the equal of, The Vendetta, the weapon was saturated with so much rage and hate, it could easily poison a god with its malevolent venom.
With cold hate, he levitated the spear in front of him, and smiled as his red eyes contemplated striking down his enemy once and for all.
“Slave King, you are not prepared!”
*****
The reluctant groom, stood before the mirror, and looked at the finery his pony seamstress had made for him. The black satin doublet she’d made for him, felt wonderful against his skin. She’d taken the liberty of embroidering the collar and hem of the garment, with the image of his brand with green and silver silk threads. He found himself liking the look, it seemed to make him seem more like a proper king, rather than the tyrannical warlord his threadbare clothes, cloak, and iron crown, framed him as.
Though he wasn’t normally given to vanity, he found himself enjoying his new look, and contemplated commissioning more clothing once the wedding was over. Though he wasn’t quite ready to trade in his iron crown for the gilded one she had Ignatius make for him, he was beginning to appreciate how fashion might be useful in reforming his image. But as much as he liked the doublet, he wasn’t quite sold on the long toed silver slippers she’d insisted he at least try on and consider, before outright rejecting them. He found their upward curl, rather ridiculous looking.
As he admired his clothes, he heard her enter. Angrily, he muttered a curse under his breathe. She was the last person he wanted to deal with right now. “You look quite handsome in your wedding clothes, Slave King,” she said, offering him a genuine compliment. “I’ll admit, I’m feeling slightly envious of my sister.”
“Flattery is a futile gesture with me, Celestia, the Radiant,” he replied, looked at her reflection. “State your business. I suspect, you didn’t come here to ogle my scars.”
Though he wasn’t being outright rude to her, beneath his thin veneer of civility, she could feel the resentment he harbored for her, bubbling beneath the surface. Had she known then, what she’d known now, she would never had annulled the faux marriage she and her sister had once had with him, regardless of the political ramifications. Instead of being somepony she’d been forced to crush beneath the weight of, the Law’s authority, had they remained married, she could have helped mold him into a gentle soul, who she might have easily influenced with a little love and kindness.
“I wish to be present when you pass judgment on Scourge,” she said, looking at him with her large magenta eyes.
Though he felt something bordering on hate for her, looking into her benevolent eyes, made his heart melt. He wanted to rage in anger at her for taking away the one friend he had left, but found himself unable to do so. His mind felt exhausted from all the anger he’d been feeling, and now he only wished to mourn, and put this great loss behind him.
“And why should I allow that, Celestia, the Radiant?” he asked, not particularly caring to hear her answer. Scourge was lost to him now, and there was nothing left to do but punish him for his crimes. “This matter is for the Earth to decide. The light, has no place in the depths of the Earth.”
“I wish to offer counsel, on his behalf,” she said, approaching him. “Surely, you believe in allowing a condemned pony a chance to defend themselves.”
“The prisoner is guilty. He confessed to Lady Nightmare, and The Vendetta, was found in his possession,” he said, exhaling deeply, as he dreaded having to sentence his servant. “The reasons for his crimes are irrelevant, he is a traitor to his king, and will face justice for his crimes.”
“But surely, there might be extenuating circumstances?” she asked, hoping to prick his heart, and allow her to speak on the doomhound’s behalf.
When he heard her argument, a small sliver of hope burned within him. Perhaps he hadn’t been betrayed after all. Maybe there was an alternate explanation for Scourge’s actions, beyond the obvious. “Very well, Celestia, the Radiant,” he said, turning to look at her. “If the prisoner agrees to accept you as his counsel, you may defend him.”
When she saw the pain masked behind the flames flickering in his eyes, she mourned that another was suffering because of her actions. “Thank you, Slave King,” she said, offering him a kind smile. “I only hope that my rhetoric, will temper your ruling.”
“I only promise, that justice will be done,” he said. “And justice demands, that the scales be balanced.”
“But what of mercy?” she implored.
Narrowing his eyes at her for suggesting something so ridiculous, he scowled. “Mercy is for the weak, and there are no weaklings in the South,” he answered, looking away from her searching eyes. “Only the strong and the dead.”
“Have you forgotten so quickly?” she asked, looking at his reflection.
“What do you mean?” he said, refusing to look her in the eye.
“Sir Stouthorn, the Chivalrous,” she said, walking in front of the mirror, and forcing him to look her in eyes once more. “You begged his forgiveness, for striking him down in anger.”
Looking down at his metal arm, he sighed. He’d not given the minotaur much thought in centuries, but his missing arm was a constant reminder to him of the great evil he’d once committed in his anger. He remembered the dying knight of the Lawgiver granting him forgiveness, only asking in return, for him to always remember to be a just ruler. He liked to think, that being fair and just to everyone, from the lowliest slave to the most powerful lord, was the hallmark of his rule.
“I remember the promise still,” he said, thoughtfully rubbing his false arm. “None can claim my rule is unjust, or that I’ve played favorites.”
“But what about being kind, and a good friend?” she pointed out, hoping to remind him of the things he’d long since forgotten.
Her words caused him to inhale sharply. He remembered seeing the grievously wounded knight laying on a litter, surrounded by his friends. Looking down into the minotaur’s brown eyes, he’d seen pity reflected back at him. When he’d begged forgiveness, he received neither condemnation nor rancor. Instead, the elderly knight had only asked for him to be a good king to his subjects.
“Celestia, the Radiant,” he softly said, remembering the promise he’d made long ago. “Let’s see if Scourge, is willing to allow you to defend him.”
She nodded in agreement. Though it wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping for, the fact that the harsh edge of his voice had blunted, gave her hope, that he might show clemency for Scourge’s betrayal.
*****
She tried her best to avoid looking at her mentor like this. It nearly broke her heart. He looked nothing like the towering pillar of strength she’d always known. Laying down, with his head resting on his large paws, he looked up at with sorrow in his ethereal blue eyes. She wanted to curse him for betraying them, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Soon, the Slave King would come and pass judgment on him, and she’d never see him again.
Seeing the distress in his disciple’s eyes, he stood up. “I’m so sorry, little pup,” he said, from behind the bars that separated them.
“Was it worth it, master?” she asked, balling her hands into fists, and desperately trying to fight back her angry tears.
“I would do it again, a thousand times over without reservation,” he said, looking up at her.
“How can you say that?” she accused, feeling the stabbing hurt of his betrayal, twisting inside her heart.
“Because he’s too important to the Domain of Earth to lose,” Scourge answered, at peace with his fate. “And he’s my friend. Though, I have one regret, my disciple.”
“And what’s that, master?” she bitterly said, turning away from him.
Reaching out between the bars of his cell, he placed an armored paw on her shoulder. “That we’ll be parted so soon, Aria,” he said, desperately wishing he still had flesh, so he could hold her in his paws.
“Master Scourge, please don’t leave me, I love you,” she cried, embracing his arcanum armor through the bars.
“I love you too, little pup,” he said, closing his eyes.
Though he was only an apparition, clad in cold arcanum steel, as she hugged her condemned master, she felt no chill. Instead, she felt the warmth his heart held for her, and cried in sorrow over his fate.
He’d never had the chance to have pups of his own. He’d always thought he’d have made a good father. But it turned out that fate had another destiny in store for him. He’d been young when he first entered the Slave King employ, and when he lost his life battling the Dracoliche, that avenue had been forever closed to him. However, when he first met that weeping little pup those many years ago, he discovered the chance that had been denied to him for so long.
“Aria, you need to be strong,” he said, lifting up her trembling beak with his paw. “When I’m gone, the Slave King’s enemies will be emboldened. Second especially.”
Wiping her teary eyes on her sleeve, she sniffed a few times, and nodded. “Alright, Master,” she said, though her heart wasn’t quite in it. Scourge was more a father to her, then the Slave King had ever been. And now that she was about to lose him to cruel fate, she found it hurt nearly as much, when she realized her father didn’t love her.
“Remember, Aria, all parents love their children,” he said, looking into her reddened eyes. “Even the Slave King. With time, he’ll discover that for himself.”
“How can you be so sure, master?” she asked, certain that she’d never know her father’s love.
In all his centuries of service to the Slave King, he’d never shared his knowledge of the Slave King’s deceased daughter, Little Bleu with anyhound else. He could still remember her song even after all this time, and felt speaking of the experience, would cheapen the memory. But with his end so near, he felt the need to share it with somehound. “Because the love he holds for her runs so deep,” he replied, remembering his master’s unending sorrow for her loss. “He must feel something similar for you.”
“Who is it, that he loves so much?” she asked, feeling conflicted by the revelation. On one hand, she felt disbelief that her father felt anything for anybody. And on the other, it pained her that he was incapable or unwilling, of offering even a fraction of that to her.
“What I’m about to reveal to you, Aria,” he said, looking into her golden eyes. “You must vow to share with nohound else.”
“What about my sisters? Surely they too, have the right to know,” she said, knowing how much the knowledge would mean to them, especially Melody.
“Swear it, Aria!” he commanded. “Or I’ll keep this knowledge to myself.”
“Very well, master. I swear by the shadows, to keep your faith,” she said, holding up her hand.
“The Slave King’s other daughter, Little Bleu,” he said, remembering her from the sliver of memory, he still possessed of the Summerlands. “He loves her still, even after all this time.”
When she heard the Slave King had another daughter that he apparently loved, she began shaking with fury. “How dare he!” she angrily shouted, punching the wall as hard as she could with her fist.
Scourge saw her anger and sighed, knowing she might never forgive him for this. “Hold your anger, little pup,” he said, hoping to calm her down.
“Where is she?” she demanded, wanting to see the daughter that was so much more worthy of being loved then she. “Who’s her mother? Probably one of the princesses’ I’ll bet! No wonder he cares more for the ponies, than his own flesh and blood!”
“Though she was a pony,” he said, remembering her song fondly. “Her mother wasn’t Celestia or Luna. She died long ago, back when he was still mortal, before he became the Lord of Earth.”
She now knew how impossible her desires were, he was chasing after the shadows of his memory, because of that, he’d never have room in his heart for her. She leaned against the bars of Scourge’s cell, as the weight of her realization struck her. Sliding to the ground, she buried her face in her hands in despair. “Why did you tell me this?” she mourned, weeping that her father would love her.
“So you might have hope,” he said.
“Hope, what hope is there for me?” she despaired, knowing she could never compete for her father’s affection, against somefeather who was dead.
“One day, he’ll see what I see, little pup,” Scourge said, offering her a warm smile. “I only hope, that you’ll be willing to give him a chance when he does.”
Leaning back against his cell, she rested her head against her master’s armored body. “It’s just so hard to be patient, Master Scourge,” she said.
“I know it is, Aria. I know it is,” he told her, as they enjoyed each other’s company for probably the last time.
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Warp blast it Talon, you truly have quality writing talent. I appreciate the effort and time you put into making your chapters into true quality. Your pacing and linguistic choices are second to none, you have created a truly immense and diverse world that I has consumed me with its top notch characters and sublime writing. TL:DR You are the best, your stories are the best, can't wait for more.
Wedding to go off without a hitch. Naw, who are we kidding?
All this scheming, after everything goes down, Luna lost to the moon, Slave King wanders the earth, and other things you have planned, does Celestia continue to scheme and manipulate like this?
Why is it when I think about a story that hasn't updated in a while, it updates? Oh well, who am I to complain?
He sure as heck isn't going to spare the Slave King from facing his wrath...
2715075 Thank you for your comments gentlereader, thank you for your kind words, it truly warms my heart, when a reader shares with how mush they enjoyed reading what I wrote. When I write my go to resource is dictionary.com/thesaurus.com. Many a time it's given me the perfect word choice to use in my work, so instead of using the mundane, I can use the fantastic. Out of curiosity who's been your favorite character in the cast?
2715102 Thank you for your comments gentlereader, well you know what they say about the plans of mice and men, or it this case gods and goddesses. When you're divine, and you're competing against other divine beings for resources, power, or what have you, there's always a plan or scheme to look after. Celestia as always, will look after her little ponies, and the other mortals that rely on her protection, regardless of the gods she has to bully.
2715169
True, but in this case she practically loses everything she holds dear. That is until Twilight and friends come around.
2715114 Thank you for your comments gentlereader, I can't honestly say, beyond advising you about Murphy's law etc. But I plan on releasing a new chapter every day for the next three days, plus two addendums, once I post the last chapter of this story arc.
Regarding Lord Cerynitis, he made his intentions quite clear in Chapter 10: The Last Temptation of the Slave King.
2715186 When you're immortal, and measure your life in ages rather then years, time starts to lose meaning. Being who she is, Celestia loves the inhabitants of Equestria even more then her own sister. She's the kind of being, who's willing to sacrifice her own happiness for the greater good of others.
Great chapter and though it completed its job of progressing the story, there were few points that stood out. Regardless, I wait future chapters.
2715567 Thank you for your comments gentlereader, like the string of updates previously, this series of updates was originally written as one chapter. Though I really enjoyed writing Lord Cerynitis's monologue, and the exchange between the Slave King and Celestia. Tomorrows update will continue with this chapter's plot threads.
2715588
Update tomorrow? I am excited to hear that.
2715595 Yeah will be like 4 days in a row, maybe even five plus the two addendums I have made.
I would have thought the Slave King unprompted would at least take the time to ask Scourge for the reasons behind his actions. Forgetting any friendship for a second, it would seem to be a more pragmatic decision since if he gets that information he can then act on it in some way. Maybe he can reduce the rate at which his minions betray him with a comprehensive health scheme, an extra paid day of time off, and a pay rise of 10 bits a week! Or not.
It would be rather amusing if this entire incident leads to a newer more fashion-conscious Slave King. Got to work on that image.
I also can't see him reacting well to any attempt to control him, as Celestia has already discovered. Tread carefully Princess of the Night.
Celestia seems rather lonely. Oh well, she might get a chance when Luna takes an extended sabbatical for 'health reasons', if she can use that silver tongue to convince him of her benevolent intentions, instead of acting out of malice or greed as his enemies would.
2715668 Thank you for your comments gentlereader, the reasons why the Slave King haven't bothered asking Scourge for the reasons for his actions, are twofold. One, the Slave King was deeply affected by his betrayal, and facing his friend is too painful for him to bear. Two, these types of situations are handled through trial. Any inquiries are done through a trial, the Slave King presides over. Betrayal of course the norm, and fully expected. The usual punishments are fines, added years to your enslavement, banishment, execution, and for the most wicked and depraved, terrible punishments that exist only as rumors.
Well the clothes make the man, or the king in this case. Most likely, the Slave King has grown tired of his frugal living. The nice clothing he's been wearing, has made him reconsider his position on abstaining from things he once considered frivolous.
Well the Slave King can be controlled, but only through subtle means. The less subtle members of the pantheon, like Ouroboros, Minoa, and Cerynitis, lack the finesse to adequately try controlling him. The gods like Celestia, Discord, and Jormungandr, are much more adept at using manipulation to cajole others to do what they want. But yes Luna, like her moon, emotionally waxes and wanes, which should make for an interesting marriage. Tears one minutes, arguments the next.
It can get rather lonely at the top, but Celestia has her ponies to care for, and good friends and allies on the pantheon. Maybe she hopes to add the Slave King to that number one day. One of the reasons she wanted the Slave King to marry her sister, was to bind him to her (basically making him family).
she shoot a dirty look
Should be shot.
“Far better that I suffer for this, then him,”
Then should be than.
Though he had love for his former master’s
Shouldn't it be no love?
Nay, she was owed a crown as magnificent, or even greater, then her sister’s?
Then should be than.
While I enjoyed the chapter, I found it jarring when commas were used (frequently) in sentences. The excess of commas dampened the joy that I usually get when reading these chapters.
im still waiting for celestia's plotting would come back to bite her in the ass
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hehehehe i made a funny
2716081 Thank you for your comments gentlereader, I've taken the liberty of correcting the errors you've pointed out. Regarding the overuse of commas, I'll look over the chapter once more, and the next two chapters as well.
Beyond the grammar errors, anything about the chapter you enjoyed?
2716089 Thank you for your comments gentlereader, sometimes even Innocuous actions can have far reaching consequences. Though Celestia might have noble intentions, the path to Hades is often paved with good intentions. We'll have to wait and see if her actions will have any fallout.
2716105 quick question though
why are your responses sounds like they belong in a novel?
you sound...uh... restrained i think is the word
2716109 Because gentlereader, you deserve nothing less then the best in literary alliterations. Reality is such a dreary place, I would like to believe here we can escape the mundanity of our lives, and realize something greater then we could otherwise.
2716119 Thank you for giving us something to escape to
2716095 I especially enjoyed the Ode to the Unknown Wayfarer, as it for once casts a wayfarer in a more positive light (other than people who get it on with one of the other races, and then leave). It makes me curious why other wayfarers haven't tried to settle in the Domain of Earth.
2716137 You'll find out more about the Wayfarers, and the Unknown Wayfarer specifically, in a few days. The main reason so little is known about them, is that they disappear almost as soon as they're discovered. Almost as if someone of something was hunting them down.
>>>But he knew better, his web, and the threads of fate, dictated that Luna would marry the Slave King. Thus was it written, and so did it happen.>>>
And then some weird grey pony wearing thick green goggles danced through a rift in space shouting, "NOPONY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!!!" Then he vanished just as quickly through another rift.
Both Ananse and Raiden sat there, stunned into silence.
"Well..." said Ananse at last in a stuttering voice. "I didn't see that coming."
Raiden nodded slowly, "I don't fault you. Who in their right mind would?"
"Indeed," Ananse replied. "By the way, checkmate."
"WHAT?!" roared Raiden as he looked down. "BUCKING TARTARUS!!"
And nopony ever discovered who the interdimensional mystery pony was...
(HINT: It was me.)
So, something tells me that when Celestia tells King she was the reason Scourge turned his back on him, Scourge's punishment will be less severe, but Celestia will get banished. Because King still grieves for Bleu, he won't give Luna all the attention she requires, which will cause her to sink deeper into madness to impress him, or try to sever his connection to Bleu. Celestia won't be able to help, and Luna goes Nightmare mode.