The Dark King is gone, leaving only scars behind. Yet I see them heal all around me. Everypony smiling and dancing, their coats sparkling brighter than ever as they praise the Crystal Princess.
Not our Crystal Princess. Just a pink mare who swooped in to save the day, as far I hear. So desperate to forget the bad, they all cling to this replacement like she is the real deal. Like they think they know her, our savior come to fix it all and make the bad go away.
The bad will never go away. His shadow remains, looming over this sunny paradise. We thought we knew Him too. We thought we knew our Crystal Princess. Look what that brought us. We thought her to be strong and eternal, now she’s gone forever. A stranger invited in from the cold, taken under her wing, betraying everything we knew.
It all shattered. Like she did.
They all smile and dance, forgetting it all ever happened.
I can’t forget. An eternal reminder hanging over me every waking hour.
My coat will not shine, my smile a grimace I practice in the mirror before smashing it. They all seem to forget we can bleed. That we bled in plenty during His reign. I remind myself of this fact. The physical pain makes me forget the inner ache, just for a moment.
Then it wakes up again. Torturing me with its noise, its constant demands, draining me from my life.
At least it’s quiet, it could shriek and alert my neighbours of my sin. Housing this demon. I can’t get rid of it, nowhere to leave it. What if it just leads them back to me? I can’t face them knowing what I brought into this world, possessing this… this tool. Yes, it’s only a tool. When I look at it, all I see is Him. He’ll return through this thing, I know it. It is Him.
It calls its siren song, forcing me over to its side. To feed it, make it stronger and grow. It feeds off of my misery, draining me slowly until I shall be no more.
I can’t bear to look at it. But if I leave it, let it starve, its song will grow stronger, more insistent. I cannot risk the outside world hearing it, catching on.
Damnation.
I wasn’t his first choice for a vessel. No. I was simply… available. There when the need arise. I know I’m not the only one, yet I stand alone. I don’t know if the others were ever caught, gave themselves up or simply found a way to get rid of the curse. Maybe they just suffer in silent isolation like me. Waiting for it all to end, so we can forget the pain and finally be free. Free from everything.
I only leave for the outside world when food runs out. Must be quick - out and in again before I’m noticed. I stand out like a sore hoof, my coat so dull and grey among everypony else who are being blissfully ignorant about those months ago.
Oh how I wish to join them. But that is not my place - not anymore. I don’t deserve it, not after bringing Him back into the world. There’s no fighting Him. You do not reject the king, you do not say no or fight. The consequences are too dire.
Yet.
I wish I had.
I wouldn’t be forced to live this curse. This thing. Draining me, again and again. So needy, its whimpers and cries. Constant presence, demands, torture.
All I see is Him.
Not even the Crystal Heart had the power to cleanse me when it had its chance. Washing over me with its light, only to leave behind the curse within me, while cleansing everypony else for their woes and pain.
I don't deserve salvation, my cold heart left in pieces like the day He shattered it along with my body. I'm dirty, disgusting, cursed. I'm a terrible pony.
I just want this to end.
Guess it will end - I was found out after all. I have been summoned.
I barely remember the joy and honour I once felt whenever fantasizing about being summoned to the palace to me the Crystal Princess. An honour anypony would have done anything for. Meeting the caring monarch, the mother to us all as we were all her children under her protective wings.
Then it became a horror worse than death to be summoned to the palace. When He had taken over, leaving our Crystal Princess as a shattered mess for all to see. Striping her of power and glory, taking her away from us as he called out her façade and lies.
Being summoned to the palace was then nothing but a source of dread.
I wasn’t summoned back then though. I was simply there. Cleaning and shining dull floors. Simply there within reach when the need arise and nopony else was around to satisfy His needs.
Now I am summoned to my trial. Of course the message says nothing, but this is not my Crystal Princess. She is dead. I am cursed, carrier of the Dark King’s tool of revival.
What else could this be.
I wished for the end, yet I am terrified. Will it be quick? Or shall I be put on display for all to witness my shame?
I decide to bring it with me. Leaving it at home others might stumble upon it once they come to clear out my house when I’m gone. Might as well bring the evidence against me along; let this new pink princess take care of it. Would be for the best, maybe she can still stop His return.
This curse is heavy. I almost held it close to my chest, felt like mourning before its destruction.
No.
There is no love left in my heart, this thing is Him. But why do I feel a tear run down my cheek?
Why am I shaking for this thing and not just for myself?
Taking over a kingdom lost from time after the harsh rule of a dark king is… no, taking over sounds hostile. I was put in lead by the support of the Royal Sisters as well as my new subjects in need of guidance.
I’m told I remind them of their old princess. I have found no name in any records other than simply Crystal Princess. Like the title was her name.
I can’t help but feel saddened by that. A pony, even a monarch over a forgotten nation, should be more than just a title. But I wish not to reopen too many wounds this soon by asking around for more details. Losing their princess must have been a great loss. And then conquered by an evil unicorn crowning himself their king. To be lost in time for a thousand years, now having to adjust to not only being free again but to learn how much the outside world has changed without them.
I can be their Crystal Princess for as long they need. I’m here to help them rebuild and heal.
The Crystal Heart rebuild their hope, restored their love as they restored the Heart in return. It is a beautiful symbiosis. I’m sure Sombra hid it away instead of destroying the heart, thinking it was purely a powerful tool he could hope to corrupt for own use. Instead it became his doom. His darkness forever cleansed from this kingdom through its power and the love of the ponies it is connected to.
All that is history. Now we rebuild, focusing on presence and the future.
Even with their love and hope restored, they still need to heal.
I do my best to wash away the darkness, the bad dreams and black memories. At least it is easy to see when a job is done well. These crystal ponies shine with the most beautiful light once their minds have been restored to how they were before everything was taken away from them.
Even after the return of the Crystal Heart and its cleansing of the Empire, there are still ponies out there not yet shining.
The more they shine, the more they hope and love, the stronger the Crystal Heart will be and it will continue to protect them and tenfold that love.
As new Crystal Princess, it is my job to help that cycle continue. I must rebuild the hope still lost among those few. Help them heal and tell them they are not alone with their burdens. We are all in this together. Together as one, King Sombra will be nothing more than a forgotten memory. A bad dream washed away by morning light.
But my job is more than that. Secure their happiness will lead to secure their safety, after all. As long the Heart and the Crystal Ponies are in sync, they will keep each other safe.
Even before King Sombra’s reign, they were an isolated state, not needing the world outside their borders. The world has grown since then and what both Equestria and the Crystal Empire needs are allies. Friends. Trade. Connections. They need to feel safe enough to leave the only world they knew and explore this new modern world. And allow the new world in.
So many meetings, trading agreements, upgrading of laws and adjustment of what worked then to what works now.
Still, I must never forget my new subjects. They are not just a mass of shiny ponies. They are individuals. Each needing to shine their own light. And we have found a few who has yet to shine.
I’m meeting one of them today.
She is just one among those who have a harder time putting the past behind them. And I understand. I have no way of truly knowing the horrors they went through and the shock the return to the living world must be. A thousand years lost. To us that’s forever ago - To them it all happened yesterday. Of course not everypony will move on right away.
But we all need to shine, to keep the Empire protected.
She is shy, quiet. She wears a coat of the bright fabrics the Empire takes pride in producing. But she isn’t wearing it with pride; it is a cloak to hide how dull her coat is. She seems surprised when the guards leave us to talk alone, watching them leave like she expected them to stay. Or something else.
She doesn’t dare to look at me, yet I keep a gentle smile. Just like Princess Celestia. Stay calm, keep on a soothing smile even if ponies are not looking. Not even an almighty alicorn can know for sure when ponies are looking. And your expression can mean everything to calm or upset a pony.
I look her over while the silence reign between us. We have time, I made sure to make time, let her adjust to the room and the royal presence, before pushing the agenda.
Her mane unkempt, hanging flat. Although the colours are dull, I see the purple tones that would be absolutely beautiful in the crystal gleam of a the citizens in this Empire. Her coat nearly grey, but hints of teal. Her eyes might be rosey although they seem so bloodshot I might be wrong.
Finally I clear my throat. She flinches, even stepping back from me. She’s afraid.
This is new.
I have never had ponies be afraid me, not even when I first ascended.
Her eyes are wide, finally looking at me. Pupils are just pin pricks, I’m not even sure she is actually seeing me. She looks so… lost.
“Remove your coat, please,” I request softly. That calming tone I’ve practice hours on end, mimicking my auntie Celestia. She always had that motherly tone set just right to connect to any pony she talks to. I don’t know how the Crystal Princess was like, but if she was anything like Celestia it is only right I try to fit the role.
She trembles. I fight the urge to frown.
Finally the cloak slides off of her form, revealing the rest of her figure. So thin, like she barely kept herself alive.
I know of her as neighbours had reported their worries. Of a mare keeping herself locked away in her home, even refusing visits from friends and family. Isolating herself, only leaving home every so often for a quick grocery run hidden under her cloak and then back home, to lock away the outside world once more.
They all worried for her wellbeing, when unable to reach her.
She’s carrying saddlebags as well, which she slides off onto the floor gently. Leaving herself naked, eyes back down on the polished floors. Staring at her own reflection which is looking back with terror.
The frown makes its way through my mask when I notice the movement of the saddlebag.
She actually brought it with her.
“Show it to me,” I say. Staying calm. Motherly tone. It’s not an order, it is a request with a hint of wish for her to comply. So hard to copy that from Auntie Celestia. She had centuries and more to practice though.
“Please,” I ad as she trembles more, like I had shouted at her.
She’s so scared.
The saddlebag is opened. She doesn’t lift it up to present it to me, simply pushing the opened bag towards me across the floor. Still trembling, eyes wide as she collapses to the ground with a sob. She looks like somepony who has lost everything.
I look down into the bag, so hard to keep the pity off of my face.
The poor thing looks as starved as his mother.
The bag no longer concealing the colt from the light, he wakes and whimpers softly. No wails, no cries, just whimpers, slowly growing to whines.
He must be so hungry. He feels starved of love as well. Putting an infant foal into a bag is no way to transport them.
I gently pick him up into my hooves after removing the hoof guards, they might be uncomfortable. He wiggles and whines some more.
The coat is dark grey, nearly black. The little bit of mane he has, that baby fluff, is a dark purple like his mother’s. Slowly his unfocused eyes blink open, a bright rose of colour looking up at me. Not curious, barely seeing me. Just like his mother, but not out of terror. Without stimulation, support or basic care he has no motivation to muster the natural curiosity for the world around him as any newborn should have.
I wish I had received the reports sooner.
But they are not beyond saving just yet.
Smiling I coo at the little one, trying to capture his attention. My horn lit up, having my suspicions based on the tales of the worried neighbours, I made sure to be prepared. A bottle or formula might be a silly thing to keep prepared near a throne when not yet confirmed a foal would be brought before you. But I’m now glad I did. He’s so hungry. Starving herself as she did, nursing him must been difficult.
She is finally looking up from her position on the floor, looking at me with shock. What else did she expect me to do with a foal?
As he feeds from the bottle eagerly, I smile at her. I get no smile in return.
We stay in silence for a while, I adjust my hold on the foal to better support him. I have no foals of my own, yet, but I am a veteran foalsitter, I know a thing or two.
“He has your eyes,” I finally comment. I have to lift the bottle from him for a moment. He whines, still hungry, but has to pace himself less he chokes in his own eagerness.
No response. At least she’s finally getting up from the floor, sitting up. Staring at me, looking at the baby like it’s the first time she ever saw him before.
“I can tell he has your mane too,” I add. Compare him to her; remind her she’s his mother.
The father is obvious, but he is of no concern. He is unimportant, gone to history, a passing nightmare now left to be forgotten.
The poor thing could do with a bath. They both could. It must have been hard, the depression and trauma. Taking care of herself as well as a newborn which at the time only seemed to serve as a reminder of the pain, it must been too overwhelming.
But the baby is not the carrier of the father’s sins. That is not fair. He never asked to be brought into this world this way. All he wants is to live. And to be loved.
The bottle finally empty I put it aside. He squirms and whimpers. I wave her closer to me with my hoof, offering the baby back into her arms. Not the bag, her arms properly as a mother should hold their foal.
She still seems in shock. But no longer in horror, more of a dazed shock. I make her hold him. With gentle hints helping her to burp him until he finally rests easy against his mother’s chest.
Finally her shocked expression cracks, the emotions welling up inside her as the tears start to pour.
Being alone with the burden, alone with the pain. So blinded by it she couldn’t even see herself in her own child, a living being in need of her love.
“You’re not alone,” I assure her as she cries. I put my hooves and wings around her, pulling all three of us into a protective cocoon of love and security. Just us, a moment of pain let loose to let it wash away finally.
Of course this won’t cure it all away. It will still hurt, it will still be hard.
But she is not alone. She will get the help needed. For both herself and her son. They will shine, together, with all the love shared between them like the love shared between this nation’s ponies and the Crystal Heart.
“What’s his name?” I ask softly, watching the little colt drift to sleep to digest his meal.
Sniffling she looks down at him. Finally truly looking at him. Looking at her foal, the baby she brought into this world all by herself and now need to introduce to the world.
“I-I…” she stammers. I’m putting her on the spot, I realize far too late. She never named him.
“Onyx,” she finally says, before I can take my question back.
