Book Two: Chapter Eight: Royal Greetings
Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara
Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Eight: Royal Greetings
The Bellerophon glided into Zerubaba’s port underneath topsails alone on a beautiful clear day, the water almost like glass, kissed only here and there in small ruffled patches by the onshore breeze. Hoof wrapped through the netting beneath the bowsprit, Pinkie grinned like a mad-mare and waved at the small boats the large Ship-Of-The-Line passed by on its way towards the two forts positioned on the ends of the jetties that thrust out to guard the wide bay at the mouth of the mighty Zebrican.
Built in the crook of three lowland hills abutting the east banks of the river, Zerubaba, the City of Temples, was beautiful to behold in the early morning light. Sunlight glinted off hundreds of towering, gold and azul painted statues. Built in antiquity and arrayed along the streets, they ringed the numerous temples, and guarded the estates of the wealthy. Squat buildings were arrayed around the temples and down the wide boulevards that doubled as markets. Built one atop the other, they spread out in an rolling mesh linked by twisting streets and alleyways. Painted in pinks, oranges, and blues, with roofs of red slate and little green doors, the homes were both comforting and haphazard enough to boggle those used to Equestrian sensibilities. Palm trees provided shade in the gardens and planters of herbs hung from windows. Tall walls of golden cement blocks, made of volcanic ash brought down the river on wide barges, broke the city off into several districts that seemed to lack any reasoned planning.
Along the east bank of the Zebrican’s mouth, between the warehouses with their accompanying docks and the temples on the southern hill, lay the commoner’s districts and markets. Here the homes were smallest with the narrow alleys and streets filled with a swarming sea of zebras. As this was also the district where foreigners stayed, the more vibrant coats of ponies occasionally a splash of colour among all the black stripes, punctuated by the hulking form of a minotaur. Open air bazaars held goods from all over the growing empire, spices, wines, food, and jewels.
On the peak of the northernmost hill was the Tamil Tahree, the great mausoleum where the past queens and kings of Zebrica were interred. Eight towers surrounded the Tamil Tahree, spire thrusting towards the sky like gold-capped white spears. From their peaks fluttered the banner of Samalla, the great Zebrican heroine who led her nation in overthrowing griffon dominion during the Age of Chaos. Samalla herself was inturned at the very heart of the Tamil Tahree, surrounded by her descendants and the wealth of a great nation.
Within her casket, it was said, rested her greatest weapon; the griffon-slayer, Garoom Theerud, the sword of liberation. Legend held that Samalla had been a slave taken beyond the Mareterranean where she’d been forced to fight the ponies. She had excelled, proving herself until she came to the notice of wicked griffon mages. Seeking a tool against Discord, they performed unnatural experiments on Samalla, making her immune to magic. Instead of fighting the God of Chaos, she rebelled against her masters, cut the mages down, and led the zebras to freedom.
In the shadow of the great mausoleum sat the ancient Hippodrome, constructed to entertain griffon lords with brutal pony and zebra races. So many died, the grounds of the giant stadium were saturated with bones where the bodies had been tossed without ceremony into deep pits and then filled over. Ghosts wandered the wide corridors and network of subterranean passages each night, and since the shift in Selene’s orbit, had begun to haunt further and further afield. Now little more than a crumbling ruin, it had been centuries since the Hippodrome saw use, with many of its stones pillaged to construct homes throughout Zerubaba.
Next to the decaying Hippodrome sat a coliseum. Unlike the Hippodrome, this building was a near constant hub of activity, hosting games, plays, and sports matches. Every day the citizens of Zerubaba funnelled into the coliseum, eager to be entertained. Gladiatorial games were not uncommon, but they were not the blood sports from the days of the griffons. Instead, they were more akin to intricate, ad-hoc plays of events both historical and mythical. Around the coliseum lay thriving compounds dedicated towards the shows. The only other use the coliseum served was as host for duels. For these blood was sometimes shed, though more often than not, such duels were short scuffles similar to a couple fillies wildly flinging their hooves at each other why trying not to look at what they were doing.
Three bridges crossed the Zebrican to the palaces of Zebrica’s nobility. Upon Pallum Hill, the third and largest, rested the Golden Palace itself. Nearly completed, with scaffolding surrounding the north and west facing walls, the palace would be unrivaled when finished. A hundred towers overlooked sweeping courtyards, gardens, and a zoo. An army of a thousand architects and ten thousand labourers swarmed like ants over the construction site. The sounds of their chisels rang down on the Bellerophon as she glided over the glass smooth harbour, only to end abruptly as a bugling horn sounded across the countryside.
At the base of Pallum Hill was the old castle that watched over the port before the creation of the forts. With steep walls, it jutted out into the bay. A few attempts at modernization saw the addition of heavy brass thirty-two pound carronades, but the castle was well past its prime as a defensive stronghold, and for the early days of the empire, had served to hold the empress’ court. This too had passed, and now the castle served as a jail for all manner of political dissident or common criminal.
The port itself wasn’t all that different from any in Equestria. Warehouses lined the docks, vessels ranging from small sloops to barques tied to the quays. Behind them were homes, a thriving market, and a few administrative buildings and the garrison. Along the western banks, in neat rows anchored fore-and-aft, were the ships of Zebrica’s fleet. Heavy frigates, with sides of thick oak, Third Rates, with new cannons gleaming under the careful attention of their crews, and at the end, a group of First Rates of a hundred and twenty gun each, queens of the ocean yet to fully spread their wings, just waiting for the order to take to the rolling seas.
Just beyond the Zebrican ships lay three vessels from the Old Queendoms, moored stern to shore.
“That’s the L’Orient, or I am the daughter of a ferrier,” Fighting Spirit said, having taken her spot at the captain’s right as the Bellerophon continued to glide towards a spot near the other foreign ships.
“I imagine so,” Hardy agreed, pointing to her beautifully painted figurehead as the Bellerophon swam past. “Yes, it is, you can see her name now. And those two are the Princess Platinum and the Santa Isabel. Yes, yes, it is as I suspected. Beautiful old ships, just beautiful. By Celestia, what are they all doing here, though?”
Across from the docks stood a low, squat fortress on a short hill overlooking the river. The black muzzles of cannons thrust out from its walls while the flag of Zebrica fluttered proudly on the breeze, a golden lion atop a scarlet field.
“Miss Spirit, the salute, if you please,” Hardy said as they passed the battlements of the fortress and glided deeper into the port.
The order was echoed along the deck, and then the first of twenty-one guns roared harmless flame seaward with a resounding crack. Along the upper deck the cannons fired one by one, engulfing the Bellerophon in a pungent fog that was carried away by the onshore breeze. One heartbeat after the last of the Bellerophon’s cannons had fired, the fort responded in kind, sending a salute of one and twenty throaty bangs.
As the roar of the cannons faded away, Pinkie darted from the bowsprit, expert hooves carrying her easily between the foremast jacks and the able seamares come forward to release the anchors and moor the ship. She swayed with ease on the gentle roll, a little rougher now they were in the chop where the waters of the river met those of the sea, took a place in the line, and gave the bo’sun a wide grin and tapped her temple in a salut.
Belaying Pin just shook her head in response and moved along the line, yelling in her throaty, naval voice for the stragglers and layabouts to hurry up. She didn’t bother to try to pry Pinkie from the watch, and in truth would have forgotten the pink menace was even a passenger at all if not for the captain’s constant reminders. Even the normal grumbles about landsmares not knowing there places were wholly absent.
With a great splash the anchors were let out, cables running fast and clear into the brown water. The Bellerophon drifted back, caught her holding, and came to a gentle rest. Next, a crew jumped into the jolly boat and ran a cable on shore so that she was moored fore and aft. This done, the crew and officers breathed a sigh of relief and nodded to one another in great joy.
At last, they’d completed their duty, and delivered Twilight to Zebrica.
Within the great cabin, Twilight was only superficially aware of the long awaited arrival. She dozed, in and out of consciousness, body sore and mind like jelly. It had been the same all the last week. Those first few days had been the worst, a piercing headache lodged between her ears every time she woke.
Magic Depletion Sickness.
Twilight knew of the condition, as did all unicorns, but never before experienced it herself. Even all the times she’d called on the vast depths of her magic in the battles against mad gods and twisted abominations, she’d never fully consumed her magical reserves. Having now experienced it first hoof, Twilight felt the warnings given by the lecturers at the School For Gifted Unicorns greatly underplayed how much it hurt.
A deep, happy groan rumbled from Twilight, pulled from her dreams by the rattle of the chain forward and the thumps of hooves overhead, and she sat up in bed, at last truly awake. She smacked her dry lips, rubbed away the sleep encrusted across her eyes, and looked out the stern windows to see the shore.
“Awake at last,” spoke Luna from where she sat near Twilight’s bed.
Twilight stretched, worked out all the little aches and stiffness, and mumbled, “How long?”
“Two weeks,” Luna supplied. “A few ponies have sent you letters,” Luna indicated the desk where a number of scrolls, envelops, and one package had been placed.
“Weeks?” Twilight gasped, shot up and tumbled out of bed, her chin hitting the deck with a heavy thud. She pushed herself up, stammering, “B-But, I never finished my etiquette lessons with Fleur! Or my history lessons. There was so much preparation planned!”
Stifling a laugh, Luna helped Twilight to the nearby table where a fresh breakfast awaited. “Everything will be fine, Twilight. You have spent years learning etiquette, already.”
“Yes, but nothing to do with meeting an empress.” Twilight gulped, and reached for the pitcher of cold water.
“Treat her with the same respect you would Celestia if you were petitioning her court, and you will be fine. Besides, I will be there as well.”
Twilight found Luna’s attempt at reassurance entirely ineffective, and only brought on more anxiety. “But, I was supposed to travel alone! How are we going to explain you just popping up on the ship? Wasn’t this entire exercise with traveling by ship supposed to show that I’m a normal pony?”
Luna snorted and rolled her eyes. “Normal? We are gods, Twilight. My sister fails to fully appreciate this fact sometimes. As much as we may play at being no greater than our little ponies, this simple truth is that we are so much more. This is not to say ponies should be treated as lesser things, but it is disrespectful to put on pretenses of weakness. We should not have to act lesser than we are just to placate a few, narrow minded, ponies. If the empress asks, I will tell her the truth.”
There was little time for worry as Hardy knocked and announced that the barge was being readied to take them ashore.
“Come on, Twilight, you have to be dressed yet. Your mane combed. And it might be an idea to get some food in your belly.” Luna swished her horn, and Twilight’s travel chest burst open as the dress Rarity made for meeting the Empress of Zebrica flew out.
The next several minutes were a flurry of activity that Twilight barely followed. Pinkie, Rainbow, and Fleur all came to check on her, each wearing a gown of the finest silks and lace, highlighted with appropriate jewels. Nothing overly extravagant, but all fitting for the court of the empress, they were somewhat more formal and simplified than the gowns Rarity made for their first Grand Galloping Galla.
Tears, impossible to be shed, pressed against the back of Twilight’s eyes as she thought of her missing friend. How Rarity would have loved to take part in the pomp and circumstance of meeting an empress! How, if Rarity joined them, Twilight could have done something to avert her friend’s fate.
Sadness had to be put aside as Fleur began, in rapid succession, to complete her lessons on how to greet the empress and what to expect. While the straps to her saddle were being done up, she ate in a few, hungry bites. The taste of burnt toast and butter tingled her tongue, and then all the preparations were as complete as could be reasonably made.
At long last, though it’d barely been ten minutes, Twilight stepped onto the deck to a full mustering of the crew with her honour guard next to the steps down to the boat.
“Come on, Twilight,” Luna said as she strode past her cousin, step full of majestic purpose Twilight feared she’d never master. The spice laden air swirled about her and she smiled. “You need to be careful. This is the court of an empress. It will not be like Canterlot.”
Twilight nodded slowly, and turned over in her head again the hurried lessons given to her as she descended into the barge. Behind her came Pinkie, Rainbow, Fleur, and Luna, but also Timely Crown, and Twilight’s guards. The bargemares pushed off, and with strong strokes of the oars, carried the barge towards the docks. Behind them came the second tender, a smaller jolly boat holding a large, gold-banded chest containing gifts for Zebrica’s Empress.
As they crossed the bay, Twilight asked when Luna first visited Zebrica.
Luna clicked her tongue as she thought back, then said, “The first time must have been… I am unable to recall the precise year. Shortly after my Awakening. So, around one hundred and seventy-five, B.E.R. A good friend managed to send word that he was in trouble, so I went to rescue him. Back then, all these lands were under the domination of the second Griffon Empire. There was much battle and blood shed that day.” Luna basked in memories, a wide, fearsome grin making her face shine. “I can’t be happier that their empire is in complete shambles and on the precipice of annihilation. May we soon be rid of their loathsome kind.”
“How can you say that?” Twilight asked, gaping at her cousin. “Griffons can be a little rough around the edges, but they don’t deserve to die!”
Luna gave Twilight a look not unlike pity while Timely cleared his throat and took a keener interest in the fish swimming through the filthy water around the barge.
“Griffons are beasts and brutes, little better than monsters.” Luna’s voice hardened, and posture stiffened. A dark, angry note made Twilight shiver. “I have had to protect our little ponies from their predations time and again. They refuse to see reason, and the virtues of peace. All they ever desire is conquest and conflict. The griffons outside Equestria revel in their carnivorous nature. If you had seen Shining Armour’s throat torn out before your very eyes when you were but a few springs old, you’d understand.”
Twilight felt a little green as she stuttered, “They eat ponies?”
The conversation came to an end here, with no time for Luna to address Twilight’s fears, as the barge kissed the dock light as a mother’s lips upon the brow of her foal, not even jostling the passengers. The bargemares all smiled, a few going so far as to whisper and pat their neighbor on the back at the display of skill.
Twilight and her entourage were greeted by a large crowd as they clambered onto the dock. Mostly the black and whites of zebras, the crowd nevertheless showed the brighter coats of a few ponies, and perhaps a dozen or so griffons, camels, and the tall forms of a pair of horses.
To one side stood two ranks of zebra soldiers, resplendent in gold and scarlet uniforms. The edges of chain barding and pikes set against their shoulders glittered and flashed with polished steel. Like the earth ponies in Equestria’s guards, their greater natural strength allowing them to wear heavier barding with ease, with thick boots that could deliver a crushing buck. Rainbow appraised the soldiers, while Pinkie attempted to introduce herself to every zebra.
Lord Halphamet stepped forward, Shaleh at his side, the pair given a wide space by everyone. Twilight watched the spirit with no small amount of curiosity, having never seen an ifrit before. The way her form shifted beneath the surface, like magma running through a tunnel, was fascinating. He saluted, head held high and grey eyes shining, drawing Twilight’s attention away from the spirit.
“Your most Divine Highness, I am Lord Halphamet, Commandant of the Empress’ Guard and Her Hoof. I am here as your escort to the Golden Palace.”
Twilight was taken aback at the brisk, almost harsh clip to the zebra’s accent. He had none of Zecora’s playful sing-song nature. Everything about him was simple, blunt with military professionalism. It reminded her of Shining when he was in work mode.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Halphamet.” Twilight gave her best smile as the rest of her party stepped onto the dock.
Lord Halphamet’s stoic expression refused to falter as Luna took her place beside Twilight.
“Your most Divine Highness,” Lord Halphamet bowed to Luna, and then continued, “Her Imperial Majesty eagerly awaits your arrival at the palace.”
“Lead on,” Twilight said, keeping her head held high. She remembered Zecora once mentioning in passing that it was seen as a sign of weakness among zebras for a superior to make any concession to a lesser. While it made Twilight’s mane prickle at having to seem so unfriendly, she also wanted to make a good first impression. The old saying of, ‘when in Roam’, came to mind.
“Very good,” Lord Halphamet said, stepping out of his bow and leading the way towards a group of carriages.
A hush fell across the pier as Twilight passed, the crowd falling to its knees, brows placed upon the ground and eyes turned away. Twilight blushed and couldn’t shake a crawling feeling as she entered the first carriage, doors bearing the Imperial Mark. Luna joined Twilight in the first carriage, door snapping shut behind her, while the others entered the remaining carriages.
“You’re doing well,” Luna said, shifting a little to get a better view out the window. “You see, there was no reason to be worried. Just remember, we have no equals in Zebrica, not even the empress herself. Never bow or lower yourself.” Luna punctuated this with a thump on the bench.
Twilight’s hooves shook as she gave her cousin an incredulous look. “I feel like an imposter,” Twilight admitted. “I’m not ready for this. My apprenticeship with Celestia was spent preparing me to face Nightmare Moon and Discord. Not playing nice with nobles and Queens. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I inadvertently cause a war!”
Pressing her ears back, Twilight cringed as the carriage began to roll through the port town and towards Zerubaba. Crowds lined the streets, cheering as Twilight passed, and a cloud of pink petals surrounded the carriages as they made their way towards the palace.
“I belong in a library studying or in a classroom teaching. That was what I thought I was destined to do. Not…” Twilight gestured her wings towards the bright faces of the crowd. “This is suddenly all too real. More so than even Nightcourt or having to sort through some reports. You took the lead in Nightcourt, and the other was just paperwork. I’m good at paperwork. This time I’m the one with the burden of responsibility, going in front of somepony I know nothing about, who is in charge of one of the oldest nations on Ioka. There is no way I can do this!”
Twilight pressed a hoof to her chest as her heart took off like a hound chasing a rabbit and her breaths came in sharp gasps.
Sighing, Luna reached over to wrap a comforting wing around Twilight, the carriage bumping along as she changed seats. “My sister and I have every confidence in your abilities, Twilight Sparkle. This anxiety is entirely unfounded and if I did not know better, would say was unnatural.”
Luna’s voice trailed off, and she grew solemn beside Twilight. The oddity of Luna’s tone brought Twilight out of one set of concerns, and right into another.
Twilight leaned back and tried to settle her racing heart. There was something wrong with the city, like a discordant note hidden within a symphony, that kept pulling at Twilight. Closing her eyes, Twilight fell within herself looking for some momentary peace, and to check on her magic reserves and connections to the stars, now she had the time.
Even after two weeks, her magic had still barely reached the half-full mark. Beneath her mind’s eye rushed hundreds of streams and rivers into the vast inner sea as she took in fresh aether from the laylines. Given the size of her pool, Twilight was shocked to see it so recovered. She was taking in as much aether every minute as a thousand unicorns could in a day.
Thankful that she was in an area far from other unicorns, so the strain on the leylines was not as profound of it otherwise could have been, Twilight turned her attention to her stars.
They were asleep, of course, drifting comfortably on a bed of dreams. For a brief moment, Twilight wondered what a star would dream about, and marvelled that they dreamt at all. Like a spider testing the silk of her web, Twilight touched a few of the adamantine threads connecting her to the stars. The bonds were as strong as she remembered, showing no signs of damage from her actions with Sirius. That did not mean that the stars did not hold any grudges against her, only that the purely magical side of the equation was unaffected. Nightfall would be when any grievances of the stars could be received, and she both hoped and feared that there would be many.
After what she did to Sirius, Twilight hardly deserved to be the stars’ mistress. Worse, it had almost been Polaris she hurled from the heavens! What would have happened if the Lodestar was lost? Would it even have been possible to put the other stars to sleep without Polaris? She’d never managed without Polaris’ active assistance corralling her sisters and putting them to bed. Twilight shuddered at the implications.
Twilight was about to depart her mindscape, when something odd caught her eye. In the corner of her perception a limp, battered thread pulsed. In a rush, Twilight swooped down to further inspect the odd occurrence. Unlike her other threads, this one was broken, and from the decay, had been so for a very long time. Longer than Twilight ever existed. And, it was not alone. Hundreds of other discarded threads formed a thick mesh along the ‘floor’ of her mindscape. The vast majority were grey, lifeless, dead, like a bed of skeletal snakes, and just as repugnant to view. From these corpses flowed hundreds of thousands of gossamer thin strands that sank into the ground and vanished. Tiny pluses of magic, almost indiscernible even on close inspection, sparkled down these strands.
Two of the former threads were not so damaged, rainbow patterns coursing through their broken lengths. One such thread was new, and Twilight understood without knowing how, that it belonged to Sirius. The other was old, ancient even, half buried by others that had fallen afterwards and since died. This thread felt wrong, somehow, little tremors of dread entering Twilight’s gut each time it pulsed. A strength, almost perverse vitality emanated from the thread, and with a start she broke her connection to her mind’s eye.
Momentarily disoriented, Twilight gasped and looked around the small confines of the carriage to see Luna watching her with concern.
“Luna, I’m filled with dead stars!” Twilight almost screamed, hooves rubbing up and down her legs as if she could scrub away the field of decayed threads buried inside her. Threads that had belonged to her stars before they fell.
The response she got was not what Twilight expected. Luna rocked back on her seat and giggled. It was a slight, hesitant sort of giggle, one hidden behind a hoof, but unmistakable.
“My dear Twilight, you are not filled with dead stars,” Luna shook her head slowly.
Twilight wanted to argue, to convey all she’d discovered, but they’d reached the gates of the Golden Palace.
The Golden Palace proudly overlooked Zerubaba, a shining jewel in the noonday sun, walls of pale yellow stone covered in reliefs and figurines. Four stories tall, with a roof of green copper, the palace was only a few short months away from completion. It contained an open, airy sort of regality that was not seen anywhere else in the zebra city. Stained glass windows three stories high faced the inner courtyard, with its tall fountain of a dragon entwined around a zebra, each perpetually chasing the other.
The entire southern side of the hill had been transformed into an open zoo, accessible only to the empress and the animal caretakers. Here, she collected birds and beasts from across the disc. Within the depths of a pool nested a tamed spotted Zebrican hydra, phoenixes roosted in the trees along the western ridge, and there was even a plumed male behir kept in a stout cage. Whether a creature was dangerous was unimportant, only how beautiful. It was the empress’ pride and joy, her sanctuary, and—some dared to whisper—her prison.
Their carriages came to a stop at the end of long carpeted walk leading to the palace’s colossal doors. Honour guards took station along the walk, along with a veritable army of servants. The guards stood before the servants and before the guards were their commanders, beside each of them an ifrit. At a command from Halphamet, hafts of pikes clashed on armoured shoulders and the heavy stamp of armoured hooves rang in the air. The servants all bowed low, and from them a chorus of prayers erupted towards the stars.
Reverence fairly rolled over Twilight from the servants. Their faces glowed, and prayers Twilight alone could hear echoed from hidden hearts. Such reverence made her skin crawl and doubts resurface. Afterall, What had she done to deserve such a reception?
She waited for Rainbow, Pinkie, Fleur, and Timely to exit their carriage and join her and Luna before slowly making her way forward. For a brief moment Twilight wished she could scamper back to her quarters in the Bellerophon and hide in her bunk. Such thoughts were unbefitting a princess, so she put on a brave face. Compared to claiming that Cadence was an imposter at her cousin’s wedding rehearsal, this was far less stressful, or liable to end in disaster.
Hovering on the edge of a daze, Twilight entered the palace, barely noting the tile mosaics covering nearly every flat surface. Tall enough to accommodate a dragon, the halls felt airy and immense. Inside as without, the walk was lined by bowing zebras, these all the wealthy merchants and what in Equestria would be considered the gentry, filling the gap between commoner and nobility. Evenly spaced out among them were more ifrit, the spirits’ manes making the walls glow with a ruby countenance.
Finally, the last set of doors swung open, the groaning of their hinges making the palace tremble. Carvings covered the ancient oak with depictions of Zebrica’s founding. At the bottom, little zebra figures cast griffons into pits, Samalla standing on a low rise as she dictated the terms of the Compact to five supplicating kings. Above this was an image of the Battle of Blackrock. Here the zebra army and shamans had crushed the griffons, bringing generations of subjugation and enslavement to a brutal end. On the ground the soldiers were depicted using crossbows and ballistae to bring down the griffons, while the air was filled what appeared to be blossoming stars. Griffons fell out of the sky in scores. Again, Samalla was shown, the ancient heroine above the battle on a golden chariot of fire pulled by a dragon. The top half of the great door held the images of Samalla’s years forced to serve the griffons, and her time spent being experimented upon, ending with her claiming freedom.
Beyond the great doors, the imperial throne room echoed the rest of the palace in grandness and opulence. Here, the nobles stood, each wearing rings of gold around their necks and clothes in the Equestrian fashion. Minor nobles stood near the walls, the important lords and ladies next to the carpet. Between them and Twilight, at rigid attention, were the elite Empress’ Guards, their embossed armour sparkling. The entire chamber was made of alabaster, with gold-plated pillars running the length to the raised throne. Shawls of gold, crimson, and green silk were draped around the throne, hiding the empress. All except for two glowing points of light and a dark outline that shifted from side to side as Twilight entered the throne room.
Beside the throne, the crier raised her voice, an enchantment making it echo throughout the entire palace.
“To her Serene Imperial Majesty, Maatsheptra; Queen of the mighty Zebrican River, Empress of all the lands south of the great Dragon Desert, slayer of a dozen dragons, Mother of East and West Zebrica, it is my solemn pleasure to announce her Divine Highness, Twilight Abigail Sparkle Tuilerya; Goddess of the Stars and Wishes, Princess of the Taiga, Countess of the Everfree, Nightwatcher, She who cured the Nightmare and returned Sol, She who bested Chaos and returned Him to his cage; and her Divine Highness, Luna Invictus; Goddess of the Moon, Princess of Equestria, Princess of Unicornia, Princess of Coltsica, Princess of Parmaria, Knight of the Winter Moon, Slayer of Tirak, Queller of Chaos, Reaver of the Red Sea, and Dreamsealer.”
Bowing first to Twilight and Luna, then to the hidden empress, the crier backed off the dais.
“Long have I awaited your arrival,” the empress intoned in a melodic voice that floated through the chamber. “The visions of this day have blessed my dreams since I was a foal. I am not disappointed.”
Twilight wasn’t surprised to feel magic lace the empress’ voice, a minor enchantment meant to induce awe and respect. She was, however, caught off guard by the power contained within the magic’s source. While still not comparable to the energy given by an alicorn, it was, nevertheless, far beyond what any regular pony or zebra should have been able to produce. Curiosity about the empress piqued, Twilight leaned a little closer as she studied the magic.
There was a spicy aftertaste to the magic, vaguely reminiscent of the sun, but with a cool breath of mint as well that lingered in the air. Twilight easily placed the elemental and bright runes within the spell, but there was another component, one that surprised her. It was frizzy, and crackled, with a happy familiar bounce. It was the unmistakable energy of a Chaos Rune.
The Empress stepped down from her throne, the curtains swooped up, and light fell upon her, showing Twilight the truth.
Maatsheptra was taller than Twilight, perhaps taller than Celestia, with a powerful chest, broad neck, and a brow that looked to have been chiseled from stone. It wasn’t an unpleasant face to look upon, but Twilight wouldn’t have called the empress ‘fair’ or ‘pretty’ if not for the glistening golden scales encircling her face to highlight her yellow, cat-like eyes. From just behind her ears rose a pair of spiralling horns. A thick, red and orange striped mane, with strands that seemed to dance like the flames they imitated, hung over the scales flowing down her neck. The scales were larger along her shoulders and down her back, and Twilight suspected they’d be hard as steel, yet supple as the coat of a panther. Thick shaggy fur mimicking her mane grew about her lower legs and in a great cloud on the end of her long tail. The Empress only had short white fur down her throat and on her underside.
Twilight almost gasped as she recognised the empress as a Kirin. Half dragon and half pony, or in the case of the empress, zebra, they were supposed to only exist in books. Always the stories portrayed them as heroes or villains, powerful beings of great purpose. Never were they plain or common, but born to accomplish feats beyond mere ponies. The last kirin in Equestria had been Gem Flare the Resolute, a warrior-priestess of the Namegiver. She died at the age of three hundred and seven in her bed in the year 817 E.R., having been involved in much of the War of the Sun and Moon, and then guiding the Sisterhood as it helped Equestria rebuild, and hide the truth behind the Nightmare.
Empress Maatsheptra smiled as she approached, giving Twilight a view of her sharp, predatory teeth. Her steps were precise and measured, with a graceful flow that almost seemed predatory, further heightened by Maatsheptra’s shimmering scales. Everything about her sang of beauty and sensuality, a deep, passionate fire burning like embers behind her draconian eyes.
“Hui Humma, Mistress of Stars and Wishes,” the Empress said, her voice soft like mists of a waterfall. The greeting was repeated to Luna.
The remainder of Twilight’s party were ignored.
It took half a moment for Twilight’s brain to re-engage itself, and she replied, “Hui Humma, Empress of Zebrica.”
A few within the crowd gasped when Maatsheptra bowed her head to the two alicorns, and Twilight returned the gesture. Luna did not.
“You honour us, Stars, but we are far from thy equal.” Maatsheptra gave a slight laugh. She then moved to Luna. “Protector of the Night, we hope there will be less cause for a repeat of your last visit to our nation.”
Luna smirked. “Only if somepony is fool enough to try throwing my cousin or one of our friends into the colosseum.”
“Our games, fortunately, are not the same as they were in those terrible days. They would hardly need rescue, and may even enjoy the experience.”
She then moved to Twilight’s friends, the empress did not bow as she spoke to each. “Pinkamena Diane Pie, Rainbow Dash, it is fascinating to meet you both.”
“Hiya!” Pinkie bounced forth, reaching out to grab Maatsheptra’s hoof and give it a vigorous shake before she could be stopped. “Wow, you’re so shiny! Like Spike after the time he fell into Gummy’s pots of scale-wax. How do you do it? Gummy always looks so dull again after only a few hours playing outside.”
Grabbing ahold of Pinkie, Twilight pulled her friend away from the empress, all too well aware of the thunderous looks beneath the guards’ helms. The ifrit pulled back their lips to snarl at Pinkie, ears folded back and tails lashing.
“I’m sor—”
A quickly raised hoof by Maatsheptra begged Twilight’s silence, the empress’ not taking her gaze off Pinkie.
“This is my natural lustre, Pinkamena,” Maatsheptra slowly intoned. “As Celestia evokes the caress of Sol upon the disc, Luna is a gateway to the night, and Twilight carries the stars, I am the endless flame of the savanna.”
“Ooooh, I see,” Pinkie rapidly bobbed her head. “Mystical!”
“Indeed.” The word was followed by a thin laugh. “Finally, we come to the great conundrum. Fleur de Lis, she who hovers between mortality and eternity. So much about you is uncertain. Yours is a fate not to be envied.”
Performing a deep bow, Fleur said, “Better I than another, non?”
“Most assuredly.” Maatsheptra’s eyes hardened into yellow spears. “Any other and… No, I speak out of turn.”
Twilight wanted to ask what the empress knew of Fleur and Athena, and more importantly, how she knew. While it could have been that Maatsheptra could sense the growing energy radiating off Fleur—it had grown to a point where side-by-side Fleur and Maatsheptra seemed equals in power—Twilight suspected more was at play. While there was certainly a large amount of theatrics on Maatsheptra’s part, Twilight could see the underlying cunning within the empress’ eyes.
“I have prepared a grand festival in your honour, and a place from which you may rouse the stars. Afterwards, there will be time for the presentation of your gifts, and we will dine and dance until the morrow arrives!”
A cheer rose from the crowd, and the empress took a place between her divine guests and lead them towards her gardens. Twilight ill at ease, though not because of the empress. She could not shake the feeling that something was amiss, wrong, and the cause was near. Had Twilight turned around, she may have seen Algol in the crowd, a wide smile plastered on the Demonstar’s face.
Gilda’s ear twitched at the slightest noise, sending little ripples down her neck, into the base of tense wings, and further down her back until reaching the tufted tip of her tail. Eyes darted from shadows to golden patch of sunlight to the bushy boughs of olive trees. Nearby a twig snapped, and wheat stalks were ruffled by the passage of either the wind, or something else.
Mouth dry, Gilda backed up towards an open patch of ground. Her wings yearned to pull her aloft, and away from the creatures hunting her.
Hunting her. A griffon. If she weren’t in that very predicament, Gilda would have scoffed at the idea.
She knew better than to seek the open solace of the wonderfully blue, warm, open sky. That was when they would get her. Nets, bolas, stones, arrows, and spears all seeking her unprotected belly. Besides, Gilda was not proficient enough yet to both use her magic to fly, and for other purposes.
Slinking lower so her golden coat merged with the strands of wheat, Gilda skirted the edge of a broad wagon lane that divided one field from the next. Concentrating, she pulled together the frame for a simple spell to heighten her natural speed. A few motes of stray aether escaped from her wingtips.
This, it turned out, was a terrible idea.
With the shrill shriek of a banshee, a dozen small, brown bodies burst through the grass. Naked to the waist, with white teeth flashing as they yelled, a group of children descended on the griffon. They came at her without fear in a singular wave, crashed over her as they let out whoops of victory, small fists clenched tight around sticks. She was struck on the ankle, knees, and elbows. A sharp yelp burst from Gilda, and she reared in an effort to escape the little monsters.
A shrill roar neither bird-like, nor particularly feline, burst from Gilda. She glared daggers down at her tormentors, and pulled at the threads of magic. Around her sore elbows appeared the tell-tale glow of spellcraft.
The children screamed with fearful delight and darted back into the fields, some performing cartwheels or leaping over each other as they let out long peels of laughter. A few continued to strike her on the ankles with their sticks as the magic about her grew stronger until they too ran off.
Dismissing the spell, Gilda settled back on all fours and rubbed her sore spots.
“The children sure like you,” Orenda commented as she slipped out of the tall grass, tails swishing with her amused swagger. “You’ve collected quite a following.”
“I hate this place,” Gilda harrumphed in return, “and those tiny, brown hairless monkeys are the worst. They make griffon cubs look tame in comparison.”
Orenda just shrugged in return, and turned away. “Zubu sent me to find you. The elders have finished deliberating on whether to help you or not.”
“And? What did they say?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know. Probably want to test you or something. That’s rather popular in these types of situations. If I had to guess, they’ll send you to the island.”
Gilda froze, a deep chill deep in her bones and heart. Her eyes drifted towards the lake at the city’s core, and the tiny island with it’s small temple at the center. Despite the sunny day, the island seemed dark, as if cast in perpetual shade, Sol’s light refusing to grace the cursed ground.
Death dwelt on that island, and she did not care to be disturbed.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Gilda hurried after Orenda, and prayed Orenda was just pulling her wings.
Cadence heaved a heavy sigh as she made her way through the familiar hallways s of Canterlot Castle. Too familiar, she silently fumed.
She’d barely set hoof in Crystal City Palace when Celestia had insisted on her turning around and dragging her family all the way back to Canterlot under the auspices of ‘safety in numbers’. What frustrated Cadence more was that, as always, Celestia was right.
A wry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Cadence was extremely aware of her limitations. The saying, ‘lover, not a fighter’ could not be more apt than when applied to her. She brought a wingtip up and traced the faint, hidden scar left by Nightmare Moon down her cheek.
Her mother now, she could fight. Everypony knew and agreed that there were few swordmares throughout history that could be called Luna’s match. Luna’s sparring partner, and one of her few friends, was no less than Archmage Star Shimmer. A shudder worked its way up Cadence’s back at the thought of the battlemage. There was a moment of relief at the knowledge that the archmage had been dispatched to Prance only a few days earlier and would be gone for several months, at least.
Fleur’s assistant, thrust into the limelight caused by the ambassador’s absence, wailed and stamped her hooves in court. Demands for some explanation as to why Celestia had attacked her supposed ally filled each session for the past week. That it had not been Celestia had yet to matter. Mostly as Celestia kept Faust’s arrival in Canterlot a secret.
Then there were the foals.
Cadence pressed her eyes tight. She wanted to avoid thinking about the poor fillies. They were almost lifeless in their beds, so cold and unresponsive. If not for the slight heave of their tiny chests every few minutes, they’d be indistinguishable from the dead.
At first an epidemic was suspected. Hospitals quickly filled with anxious parents and their fillies. Doctors scrambled for answers, but none were found. Every test returned the same results. The fillies were fine, physically, with no trace of foreign magic. Panic turned to confusion, as it became clear that colts and younger daughters were unaffected. Whatever was at work was no mere contagion or regular spell.
It wasn’t until Cadence herself was called upon that the root cause was determined. She could detect nothing. Somepony had extracted the fillies’ souls. Not fully, as a slight trace remained, like an after-image when one looked at the sun. They were empty vessels lost to dreams, watched over by flocks of oneiros.
Never before had Cadence seen the tiny, swallow-like spirits in such numbers. They nestled around the fillies, brought them dream after dream, and sang an endless lament. Even one of the rare Phobetors remained in the ward where the fillies had been placed. The large golden spirit flew about the room leaving trails of ghostly fire, or sat on the window sill as it directed its smaller brethren to comfort the little ones.
Shaking off her melancholy thoughts, Cadence entered the closely guarded private chambers that belonged to Luna, and now hosted Faust.
The Queen of All Ponies sat unmoved from the spot she’d taken next to the window on her arrival. She stared out over the beautiful city of gold topped minarets and alabaster towers with a faraway gaze. Occasionally her eyes would shift, her attention attracted by something only she could see.
Regardless of how she coaxed, Faust refused to acknowledge Cadence’s presence, or that of anypony.
Yet, the bowl of fruit brought each morning was empty by mid-afternoon, and the wine drained.
Conversation was nonexistent, so Cadence simply joined Faust in her vigil, wondered about her grandmother, what they would say to each other when Faust was ready to talk, and avoided the knot of discontentment in her chest. After an hour, Cadence left, and made her way towards the throne room.
She was near the private door Celestia used when the first touch of Zeus’ approach brushed against her mind with a sharp, electric jolt. Cadence tensed, heart hammering as if it were war-drums, and rushed the remainder of the way.
Celestia and Tyr had both already stood, having sensed Zeus the same time as Cadence, and a hush gripped court. Uncertainty flitted from pony to pony, and the petitioner, some minor lady from the west, clamped her mouth shut at the sudden heat rolling off Celestia like the blistering winds across desert dunes.
Before any orders could be given, there was a heavy thump, and then the grand doors were thrust open. Staff clacked in time to his hooves on the marble floor as he sauntered up the wide aisle. There was an ease to his stride, as if he were not marching alone into the very heart of his enemy.
“Chronicle, would you clear the court,” Celestia said, her voice level and pleasant in spite of the very visible anger that, even then, darkened her mane to oranges and reds.
The aged seneschal gulped, and attempted to empty the hall, but nopony listened. All attention was directed at the princess, and the first alicorn stallion any had ever seen. Nopony dared move, lest they find it was all some spell. A few who’d been present for previous attempted coups trembled with fright, dread that they were about to witness a third such event.
“L-Lord Zeus, it is a pleasure to host you in our humble abode,” Tyr hissed up at Celestia through the corner of her mouth.
Irritation flashed from Celestia, and Cadence raised an eyebrow, looking between Zeus, with his wide grin and her aunt. Tyr repeated her instructions, with a little more insistence. Celestia did not respond, jaw clenched tight, and her eyes spitting an intense fury at the intruder.
Finally, her inaction broke, and Celestia said in a tone that was both level, and would have put the fear of death into most any pony for which her words were directed, said, “Zeus, I am surprised that you can show your face here after what happened in Prance.”
“What? That little scuffle with Faust? Ha-ha-ha! What of it?” Zeus shook out his wings, eyes pinched as he laughed. A moment later there was a resounding crash and the entire city of Canterlot shook.
Ponies cried out, uncertain what had just occurred, and clutched each other as they fell to the floor. Few but Cadence and Tyr had been able to follow Celestia as she crossed the hall and struck Zeus on the cheek. The floor beneath them heaved with radiating fractures like a comet had struck it.
“Scuffle?” Celestia repeated, mane darkening with flame and hoof hanging in the air ready to strike again.
Zeus rocked back on his hooves, and let out a booming laugh. “Ha-ha! You truly have fire! Such passion and beauty! And a love-tap, too.” He winked down at a nearby guard, and in a loud aside said, “That is how you know they are interested.”
Quickly, before Celestia could do more than sputter with ire, Zeus rolled his wings and began to walk around the hall. “Regardless,” Zeus said, with a casual sort of disinterest, as if the events were already the furthest thing from his mind, “I was wondering if I may enjoy your hospitality a while.”
“You… what?” Cadence gaped and advanced quickly to her aunt’s side. What help she could offer eluded her. She felt like a wolf intruding in a contest between bears. “Are you crazy?”
“Does this world have no manners at all?” Zeus grumbled, shaking his head. “A traveler arrives at your door, and what do you do but stamp your hooves and snarl. Were I so inclined, I would send a storm or three to teach you why you should always accept the stranger to your hearth, and share bread, wine, and tales of faraway lands. That is what a proper king does when visited even by a lowly beggar, let alone a peer.”
Zipping out from between Cadence and Celestia, Tyr bowed, and said in a rush, “Lord Zeus, no disrespect was intended, I assure you. Ioka merely has different customs than those of Gaea. Here, it is expected for a guest to send notice in advance so that a proper reception can be prepared. Anypony else is considered something akin to an invader or barbarian.”
Zeus swung his attention down on Tyr. A thick frown pinched his broad brow, and his jaw grew hard. Cadence tensed, and reached out for her sword. She could fully feel Penumbra down in the vaults, and readied herself to pull the longsword to her side if Zeus made any move towards Tyr.
“Oh? Is that all?” Zeus tossed back his head and laughed. “An odd custom, one that does much to make strangers feel unwelcome. How can you meet new ponies and welcome them into friendship and brotherhood if you only admit those you already know to your table? You there,” he pointed at one of the cowering attendees, “Set us a table and bring us some wine. No, you may not even know how to mix the wine properly. I will do so myself.”
With a sweep of his horn, Zeus conjured a long table and a number of cushions. Over this he spread a wide assortment of fruits, platters of fish in various sauces, and succulent salads. Wine appeared next, and this he mixed with water and then spread out in earthenware jugs.
“Come, sit with me, and we will share stories of our adventures! Your brave court may join, otherwise it would not be much of a feast. Ha-ha!” Zeus sat down at the heart of the table, and Tyr zipped across to sit at his side. “Everypony, sit, sit, and let us be merry!”
Tyr gave Cadence and Celestia an insistent look and sharp jerk of her head towards Zeus’ other side.
Begrudgingly, Cadence sat down, a visibly shaking Celestia beside her. The guards about the room begrudgingly took places at the table at Zeus’ further insistence, as did the other ponies of the court. Small, hesitant conversation bubbled at the ends of the table, far from where the alicorns sat in furious silence.
“So,” Cadence dragged the word out a little, searching for some topic to broach. It came to her after only a moment, accompanied by a twist in her gut and suspicious look in her eye. “Do you have any idea what has been happening to the fillies?”
“Fillies?” Zeus looked perplexed, then shook his head. “Oh, that. What I overheard sounds like something my devilish harpy of a former wife would devise. Putting the first born daughters into death-like slumbers. Hera could not be involved, however, as she is incapable of leaving Gaea for the foreseeable future. I was not involved, if that is what you are implying, my dear. No, I am far more direct, ha-ha!”
Zeus’ laugh was far from genuine, tinged with bitterness and sadness, and he patted his staff hovering at his side. Cadence was overcome by a wave of sour, blackened love. A deep, ancient love, older than the stars and all the worlds, but one formed into a poisonous bramble that snarled around the heart. Over it was laced a new love, strong and filled with vibrant passions, and directed towards Celestia.
Wine snorted through Cadence’s nose, and she fell into a fit of coughing that drew everyone's attention. Concerned, Celestia leaned a little closer.
“He is in love with you!” Cadence blurted when she’d stopped gasping for air.
It was Celestia’s turn to sputter, or she would have, if she’d been any other pony. Instead, Celestia’s famed composure at last asserted itself, expression utterly impassive as she peeled a juicy orange. Her outward calm did nothing to hide the revulsion, so bright to Cadence’s eyes, that roiled through her emotional core.
To further confound the moment, the side door was tossed open to admit Faust into the hall. There was a profound silence that gripped the room, as if a dragon had just emerged from some primordial woods to loom over a neolithic herd too frightened to run, scream, or act. For the court, all they could do was gape and stare as the goddess they’d all known but never seen appeared in such a mundane manner.
Inwardly, Cadence cursed and tensed in preparation of protecting the mortals. Faust’s narrowed eyes almost crackled as she stared at Zeus.
“Faust!” Zeus boomed, pushing himself up so he could wave her over and make a space between himself and Cadence. “Are you here for a rematch, or would you sit with us and share tales of the old days? Come, sit, sit, and I will get you some wine.”
“Rematch?” Faust cocked her head at a sharp degree, and remained near the door. “It was you whom I fought? Whatever was my other self thinking? Could she not see what an epic game she played that could become a comedy of misery? No, I just came to see what all the fuss was about. Now that my curiosity is sated, I must be away. Events are not as they were meant. My Weave has become a tangled mess, and it needs some careful corrections. When you require my assistance, I will be with my sister. Have fun, you four.”
And with that, she turned and departed as quickly as she’d arrived, leaving an exasperated Tyr and flustered Cadence. But, it was Celestia who was stung the most, an expression of longing hope directed towards her mother that hovered in the air, and then fell limp. She quickly recomposed herself, but Cadence could see the fresh wound flash bright red beneath the surface.
“Ha-ha, I think that I should worry for a century or two over that one. Grudges among our kind are rather long, after all.” Zeus rumbled again with laughter. “Let me share a tale of this old couple I met once while traveling, Baucis and Philemon, who possessed little yet invited me and my son into their home when others turned us away…”
And so, for the rest of the day, Zeus’ broad voice filled the palace with tales too preposterous and grim to be believed.
Stats
Page generated in 0.028 seconds
Total duration
1,017 users online
1,430,918 hits today, 1,822,946 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
This was a nice chapter and I'm curious to see what Algol is up too. I wouldn't be surprised if Algol tries to do something when Hades arrives with Namyra since it's Namyra that Algol seems to focus on. Zeus is certaily a barbarian and he does treat the mortals as lesser beings.
Wow. Zeus is an arrogant dick.
Hmm... I am surprised Celestia has told Zeus off yet, although I guess she wouldn't want to endanger her ponies.
8397378
Yeah, he certainly is.
8397402
She can't just attack him without putting the city at risk. Managed to keep the bit where she strikes him, however. Always was a favourite.
8397352
Algol plans will surprise some people, I hope. As for Zeus; hey, at least he is even acknowledging the mortals presence and letting them eat at the table.
Excellent chapter, though Zeus and Hades continue to infuriate me with their actions. At this point I'd gamble on Discord being potentially less calamitous to the world than those two. Assuming he's not simply a murderous lunatic in this setting, anyway.
I think the only thing that I find... subpar? about this chapter is the beginning of it. The description of the city is a massive infodump. I don't usually mind infodumps, but I was thoroughly lost half a dozen sentences in. I think you could do with a little less description about something that we have no use for yet. All of the mentions of the bazaar, the poorer districts, etc etc. The characters don't go there, so it's not really important for us to know what they look like (Chekov's Gun-ish). There's just so much that I lost track of pretty much all of it, and utterly failed to hold that mental image of what the place looks like.
I do like the Empress, however. Polite, yet I feel like there are hints to a fiery temper underneath, and the power to match.
8397422
He is more akin to a Lovecraftian Great Old One, hence why I keep him trapped in stone. The Quus as a whole draw on Lovecraftian influences and themes. Originally, there was a segment when Twilight was forming the wish to revive Faust where-in she journeyed to the prison within which the Quus are imprisoned.
A little snippet of what was cut;
There were several problems with the section, so it got cut fairly early. I've held onto it in case I wish to revisit the concept down the line. If there is a third book, it will involve the Quus in all likelihood.
8397879
That's fair. It ended up being two different versions of the city description combined, smoothed out, and lengthened. My hope and intention with going into such detail was to provide some verisimilitude to the city/Zebrica. I allowed myself a little indulgence this time since this is meant to be a low-point of tension before the next bit of rising action starts next chapter. Some of it is a Chekhov's Gun, in that it will be important soon, but most of it was me just planing a city.
I'm glad the empress went over well.
8397880
Uhh. Interesting choice. Is he even a draconequus? Or just a writhing mass of tentacles
and madness? How did Twilight and her friends beat him if that's how she would have reacted to his presence after the fact?
8397923
But yeah. A bit too much on the heavy side, I think.
I think that's the crux of the (my?) problem with the description. It's not just one description, but two
8397929
Something to note down then and keep in mind if I have to describe any places in the future.
8397925
At this juncture--and this is rather mutable still at this point--Discord was pretty much identical to what was depicted in his initial appearance in the show, as a trickster-god able to alter reality at a whim. My reasoning is that Discord is but one fragment of the as-yet unnamed greater whole of the Quus. Another possibility is that he is a dream of the Quus that escaped and became alive. Basically, he is the least threatening a Quus could possibly be. It's all eldritch horror and madness after him.
By the stars I sure do hope that Zeus gets killed. Such an arrogant jackass...
where is discord in all of this, is my only major question,
8409004
Discord was never released from his statue prison by Celestia, the story having been started long before that happened in the show.
8399662
Quus is a rather interesting word.
If you're a Star Trek fan, it's a sound-alike way of describing the natives of the Continuum, and of course Discord's voice is himself a "Q", making it a very appropriate name for a race of chaos-bringers.
Alternatively, it also means "bleak".
Or, if you're a Final Fantasy type, it's a saltwater fish. Odds are that's coincidental. Then again, we're talking chaos here, so it's all apparently coincidental, especially if it means anything. Which it does. Nobody's telling us what, though.
8417857
8442111
For the time being, Astraea's role ended when she and the doshaa fought in Book One.
8442101
Her mark was meant to be mentioned during the conclusion of the first book, when Luna and Iridia arrive and meet her. Off the top of my head, I can't recall why it was cut. I think it was just very clunky how it was handled. She does have her mark, but such is the nature that no-pony notices it. I have tentative plans to make some nod or lampshade the situation at some point. Have one of the CMC call her out on it. Maybe offer to make her a member to help her find her mark, only for Shyara to point out she's had her mark for a while. Eh, maybe not... That sounds rather... bleh, now I think about it.
Okay, now I absolutely adore this paragraph right here. It's just so good to me!