The Price of Platinum
The Price of Platinum
by
Platinum Pen
Twelve generations ago the Platinum Family did not exist that changed with my ancestor, Prism Brush. He was a unicorn, light red in coat and of rainbow mane, with eyes the color of new grass, a painter's palette as his cutie mark. Prism's talent was painting, he could catch every detail on the canvas. For years he traveled across Equestria plying his talents in exchange for room and board. It was long before he became well known and his works became the desire of many, and many more wanted the skilled artisan so capture their forms in paint to be preserved for years to come.
Tales of the skills of a new artisan on the prowl reached the ears of Green Envy, a Unicorn Noble. Sending her messengers far and wide to seek out Prism Brush. After three months he was found in a small town near Trotingham. Agreeing to meet with Green Envy he followed the ponies to Castle Whitestone, deep in the wilds of western Equestria. After a night's rest he was summoned to Green Envy's presence.
Prism stood in the great hall, Envy looking down at him. Prism gazed upon Green Envy, whose blonde mane was bleached gray, Rich coat of deep green faded to the colors of a new leaf, and bent body which was garbed in the finest of dresses, once full of life and vitality, hid the beauty of her youth, even now he could picture Envy in her prime; regal, elegant, and powerful.
“Greetings, Prism Brush. Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Lady Green Envy, mistress of these lands. I have asked you here for a purpose that will benefit the both of us. I wish to commission you to paint my portrait.” the very air of nobility breathed from her every word.
“Although I do appreciate the offer, Lady Envy, I am not one to take money for my work. A meal, a bed, and a thank you are payment enough.” Prism said as he bowed.
“Aaahhh, but there is where you are wrong, dear Prism. It is not by money I pay. It is a fine cart, made to live and paint in, full of supplies that will continue to help you in your endeavors. I offer this so that you art can reach even more ponies and bring them the joy and happiness it has others. All I ask is it be an official commission.”
“And why is that?”, Prism was suspicious.
“I will put it bluntly, Mr Brush. Status. With me being your only ever commission, my piece will command more credit and attention than any other you have made, and by proxy my own standing will be elevated.”
“So you mean to use my art to help yourself?”
“Yes. As you would use the supplies to create new art around Equestria. An even trade I would dare say.”
Prism Brush thought heavily on this, on one hoof he would be working FOR somepony instead freely, on the other the offered pay would make it where he could easily give his art to more ponies in need of happiness. With a heavy sigh he bowed to Green Envy, “So be it.”
Green Envy clapped her hooves, “Excellent I have a perfect place set up just for us, we will begin first thing in the morning.”
With another bow Prism left to retire to the room he was given. He lay there trying to get some sleep, not sure if he was still comfortable about his art being used instead of being enjoyed. But deep in his heart he knew it was too late, Prism Brush was a pony of his word, and he was going to paint this portrait and make sure she was completely satisfied, no matter what.
The dawn of the next day came as Prism awoke and ate his breakfast. It was a well prepared meal made of the finest ingredients, yet it still tasted bland to him, like it lacked the love and care of many of the meals he had eaten before were missing. The servants all did their tasks in somber silence, as if in a church......or prison. Prism finished his meal and decided to start work on the portrait.
After inquiring where he was to paint he made his way to the main hell where a large area off to the side of Envy's throne was cordoned off, a blank canvas waiting.
Taking out his brushes and paint he set to work. Line after line, stroke after stroke, color after color, after many hours he was done, though more exhausted then normal. Proudly he turned the portrait around for Green Envy to see. For many long minutes Green Envy scrutinized the image before her.
“I believe I heard you were excellent in detail?”, she asked in a cold voice.
“I am confident in my ability to capture them, but by no means am I excellent as you say.”, Prism replied.
“Then what are these?”, Envy said pointing to some wrinkles on the painting.
“Wrinkles?”, he replied confused.
“And where,” Envy growled, “are they on my face?”
Prism, slightly annoyed, said, “Why right there where I … painted......them.........”. He trails off as he looks at her face confused, his mind feeling fuzzy, there were no wrinkles where he painted them on the portrait, yes there were other wrinkles, but the ones he painted did not exist. Prism sat on his haunches in shock, he made an error in painting, he mispainted a pony. No wonder she was mad! Prism knew he had to make this right and silently vowed he would paint everyday until he got her perfect.
The next day came as a new canvas awaited him and again he painted this time focusing everything he had on his craft to the point he had a massive headache at the end of the session. Again he failed, putting to much into the bags under her eyes, again she chastised his ability. This went on for four months as he feared his ability wavering, he was using colors that were too light, there were no wrinkles, (where there?), her hair was blonde, her eyes sharp, not what ever he was foolishly painting here.
Then one day as he finished a painting a massive pain struck his chest, as he became dizzy and struggled to breathe. Prism heard hoof steps walk over and looked at the portrait.
“Very good, I do think this piece is most adequate, Mr Brush.”, came a powerful and noble sounding voice. “I thank you for my portrait, and my youth.”, Green Envy chuckled standing before him years younger.
“Ha.........how?”, Prism pushed though the pain.
“A very nice, very subtle Dark Magic spell that when you painted me it stole some of your youth and gave it to me. I'm guessing you have not looked in a mirror lately.”, she smiled levitating one in front of Prism.
As he gazes in the silvery surface the image of an old and withered pony looms in front of him, his coat faded, his hair a platinum gray.
“You still receive your payment, artist. Though I think you now longer have the strength to pull it.”, Envy said mockingly. "Oh, and don't bother telling anypony you may happen to meet in your last hours, the castle will be long gone by then."
As the pain eased in Prism's chest he panicked. Racing from Castle Whitestone he tread through the wilds until the pain struck again, overtaking him and bringing him crashing to the cold, hard earth.
Prism could feel the very last embers of his life start to flicker and fade. Soon, the world became quiet, the forest devoid of all it's usual sounds of wildlife. In this deafening silence Prism saw a pony in a black cape wearing a golden book at their hip walking towards him, though he found it odd that they made not a single sound.
“Prism Brush, I have come for you.”, the pony uttered in a cold tone.
“Who...who are you?”, Prism asked trembling.
“I am the Reaper of Ponies and your time has come.”, the Reaper said opening his Book of Life and pulling out a small quill. “Hmm it seems that you are early, Mr. Brush, far too early.”
“How...how early?”, he asked, tears forming in his eyes.
“Forty five years, Mr Brush.”, the Reaper says sightly distracted as he pursues the contents of his Book. He was in a very hard predicament the Book said his natural death was in forty five years away but here Mr Brush lay dying of natural causes, he had a job to do but the idea of his Book being wrong was abhorrent to him. There was a decision to be made.
Prism lay there softly crying waiting for the cold hoof of death to claim him. Then an odd sound broke the silence, the sound of pen on parchment. He looked up see the Reaper writing in his Book instead of crossing out his name.
“I will claim you when the time is correct, Mr Brush not a moment before, though even I cannot undo the indelible stain of Dark Magic on your soul, it will forever haunt your bloodline, they shall grow old before their time and age to face the rigors of age for many more years than your average pony. This is how it shall be until your line finds a way to take back the time stolen from them.
Prism Brush thanked the Reaper for his new lease on life as the cloaked pony retreated to the shadows from wince he came. He set off back to town stopping by a stream to take a drink, his heart felt better and aside from a few aches and pains he felt pretty good. As he looked at his reflection he had a thought, a new name for a new life, his hair catching his eye he smiled, Platinum Brush, yeah that sounded nice.
Walking towards the nearest town he knew that he had to secure the future for his bloodline, so that one day they can beat the curse and be free of the mark of Dark Magic. If one piece commanded such a price and attention from one pony, what could he get if he became a painter for the Noble Houses in Cantermore?
Soon a new painter exploded on the scene, making portraits for the Nobles, skilled and fast he made works that seemed to breath life themselves. Though many thought it odd on his insistence on only using materials he himself made.
THE END