> Paterfamilias > by Prose Poem > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Chapter 1 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The foal was weak, sickly-looking, wrong. Tirek tentatively cleaned the blood and fluid from its face. Ape-like, like a centaur, but with a single spiral horn like a pony. Centaur-like in every other way, too – cloven hooves, arms and hands, a mane going down it's upright back – but still brightly colored, and its eyes were opening and... Those were a pony's eyes. Without a doubt. Wide. Innocent. Curious. Not the pony he expected to be born that day. A glass beaker crashed against the far wall. “WORTHLESS! ALL THAT TIME, THAT EFFORT, SPELLWORK, YEARS OF RESEARCH, AND IT DIDN'T EVEN WORK!” The mother, so to speak, was still bloodied from labor, enraged, a sorceress thwarted. Panting, the exhausted unicorn turned to face Tirek, holding the tiny infant in his enormous hands. “What are you waiting for?” Light Eternal demanded. “Kill it! We have to try again!” Tirek glared down at her. “I agreed to help you create a new body, not murder a child. It doesn't have to die for us to start over.” Light Eternal huffed, flicking her golden tail to express her irritation. “Well don't expect me to feed it if you insist on keeping it.” She trotted out of the laboratory towards the adjoining shower, and Tirek was left with the strange hybrid child on his own. He turned it around in his hands, causing the baby to squirm and gurgle, but not cry out. A girl. To be expected – Light wanted to keep herself roughly the same in her new life, albeit a new, immortal species. But that had not come to pass – instead, a child with its own mind and soul had been born. Now Tirek had a child. A daughter. A daughter who giggled and squealed up at him, chewing on his thumb. What. Was. Happening? He should just drop her off at an orphanage. She'd stick out like a sore thumb, but he couldn't imagine any pony would refuse a child shelter. The unicorn in the next room loudly pushed aside the shower curtain. Most ponies, he mentally amended. Maybe a changeling orphanage, instead. They were a kind people, and certainly not ones to judge based on a being's form. The girl-child gurgled up at him again expectantly. Shouldn't she be crying? Hungry? Tirek guessed that if she was supposed to be Light's new body, the sorceress would've accounted for that too. “I've got nothing for you, little one,” Tirek spoke, his voice unexpectedly soft. “You'd be better off with someone else.” The baby just cooed and gurgled again. She ought to have a name, at least. She was royal blood, a princess by birth, even if she wasn't eligible for any future throne, so she deserved to have her father name her before being throw – given away. Tirek's heart sank. He wasn't going to be able to give her up, even as she looked up at him with those horribly creepy, too-big pony eyes. She had his mother's blue pelt color, albeit more saturated, and his own gray mane. Nothing of Vorak's or Light Eternal's – a small mercy. Her eyes were yellow – not quite like his, of course, but a close enough shade to see the resemblance. Species aside, of course. She was his. “I'm going to call you Nevirika,” Tirek told her quietly, “Nevi for short. It was your grandmother's name. You look a lot like her, you know?” Nevi just gurgled again. Light stomped back into the room, her golden mane in a braid and her jade pelt still damp from the shower. “Okay, I've done some recalculating, the equations should – you're not seriously going to keep that thing, are you?” Tirek scowled, placing Nevi carefully on his back. “She's your daughter, do you honestly feel nothing?” “She's a mistake. And you keeping her better not interfere with your part in this, got it? Keep the brat out of my way, and we won't have a problem.” Light left, slamming the door behind her. Tirek softly patted the baby girl's head with his thumb. “Don't worry. She'll never touch you – I'll make sure of it.” ~ The next few months were difficult. Nevi's care took enough time away from research, rituals, and attempts to conceive that Light threatened several times to drown the girl in her cauldron. But there was, at last, success, and Tirek knew he'd at least bought time until the next body was born. If the next body was born. He could always leave, he supposed. There was nothing keeping Tirek there but his tenuous alliance with the mare who planned to be reborn as his half-centaur daughter. But where would they go? Light's wealth and resources were all that he had now – if he tried to flee with Nevi into the wilderness or some slum, it would only be a matter of time before Princess Twilight Sparkle and the Harmony Council discovered them. He would be turned to stone or imprisoned again. At least Nevi would be taken care of, if that happened. If his enemies were reliable for one thing, they could be relied on not to harm an innocent. He could always try to find Cozy Glow, wherever she was now. Chrysalis had been reformed; she might not be willing to hide him, even if just for Nevi's sake. But no, if Tirek found Cozy Glow, he'd just find himself taking care of a teenager as well as a baby, and even Cozy would resent that. Tirek couldn't be certain that the young pegasus wouldn't become jealous of Nevi, as well. No, best to wait until his and Light's work was concluded. Then he could bargain for something, maybe. ~ Even as Nevi grew and learned how to gallop with amazing speed, Tirek realized with a sinking feeling that he had no idea what he was doing. Feeding her was easy – Centaurs were born with a full set of teeth, and Light's pantry was never empty. Nevi ate when she was hungry, and stopped when she was full. But Nevi was a scarily smart toddler – she had figured out potty-training without needing to be told twice, she was already levitating things out of her reach (but thankfully obeyed quickly when he told her to stop – at least she hadn't yet gotten her horn or hands on any kitchen knives), and she had even started to make sounds that were almost like words. She was only six months old, and it felt as though she could already understand the bedtime stories of war and glory she was hearing at Tirek's knees. Even if there were parenting books for centaurs, Tirek would never have bought one before, however desperately he wished he had one now, just so he could be sure of whether any of Nevi's developmental milestones were normal. But she was, after all, a hybrid, and the product of some intensely messed-up magic to boot. There was nothing about her that would ever be normal. But one day, as Tirek was siphoning magic from some poor sod Light had delivered him as part of their agreement, Nevi walked up to him and tugged on the fur of his side. “Papa,” she said, and Tirek's concentration was instantly broken. “Nevi?” He picked his daughter up by her middle, astonished. “Did you just say Papa?” “Papa,” she repeated, “I want a thword.” Tirek blinked. “A – you want a sword?” “Yeth.” She tugged impatiently at his beard. “A magic thword. For fighting with.” “I – Nevi, you're a baby, you could get hurt using a real sword. I could make you toy sword, to practice with, would you like that?” Tirek could barely believe he was having this conversation so early. He'd been, what, five when he asked for his first weapon? His daughter hadn't even lived a full year yet! Nevi frowned and pursed her lips, crossing her arms into a pout. “I gueth thath fine, for now.” “Heeerrghhh – you won't get away with -” Tirek cut the earth pony off by quickly siphoning the rest of his power, leaving him a paralyzed husk, and turned back to his daughter. “Sweetheart, I am so very proud of you. You are so smart, and you're going to be a powerful warrior when you grow up! Everyone will fear you.” Nevi brightened at this, giving him a full, horrifyingly cute pony smile. Tirek nuzzled her, and she giggled. Perhaps working with Cozy Glow had primed him for some of this cutesy pony stuff, making it less creepy. Perhaps coming from his daughter, it was different. But he supposed either way, it didn't matter. ~ A few weeks away from her due date, Light insisted on leaving the remote country house where they were living and working to go visit family. “If this one is a success, then they may never see me again,” Light spoke absently as she sipped her wine languidly on her velvet couch, belly swollen and pelt glowing in a mockery of ideal motherhood. Tirek supposed she must have accounted for the possible side effects of alcohol as well, she was too well-educated not to know any better. “I might as well leave them with fond memories.” Tirek mentally checked the spells he placed on his bedroom. Nevi was asleep, and the noise-cancelling spell on her cot was still active. Good. “And this has nothing to do with wanting to see your 'real' daughter again?” Light Eternal stiffened, then sniffed, flipping her mane in a careful display of casualness. “Don't accuse me of sentiment, Tirek. You're the guilty party in that regard.” “I wasn't trying to accuse you. Merely... remind you of your hypocrisy.” The unicorn scoffed. “Luster wasn't an accident, she was born out of my obligation to my husband, and that obligation has been fulfilled. I don't care to call her my daughter now, and when I have my new body and new life, I'll never have to again. Don't bother feeling sorry for her, either, the feeling is mutual.” Tirek would've argued further, but he bit his tongue. He knew better than to pursue a subject that clearly rankled Light – it would only result in spilled blood. But he knew that every word that just came from her damningly perfect mouth was lies, lies, lies. In her bedchamber, behind a curtain tied shut with enchanted golden cords, was a wall of framed photographs, showing Luster Dawn growing from a newborn foal to a bright, confident, talented young mare. In the family photos, the distance from her mother showed, their expressions tighter and smiles more strained as the years went on. But still, they were there, plain as day. They had been a family, once, and the mother missed her daughter. Denial wasn't a good look on Light Eternal. Then again, the only truly good look he'd ever seen on her beautiful face was when she was asleep. Despite all of this, Nevi, the daughter she had made with Tirek, his happiest little accident, was apparently a “freak of nature,” a “mistake,” a “distraction from the important work.” Never mind the fact that she intended to become one such freak of nature in her next life! It stung personally too. The beautiful child they had made together, however unintentionally, was just an object to her, waste to be thrown away. Light was gorgeous, brilliant, and had admitted personally that she found both his body and his power quite attractive as well. He was arguably more of a partner to her than her inbred milksop of a husband had ever been, but somehow she didn't respect his opinion, his decisions. Ever since she had first proposed this alliance and explained her plans to become immortal, for some reason the idea of them being a couple had lodged somewhere in his brain and wouldn't leave. He was older than the concept of Equestria as a nation, and yet his relationship with this one pony who hadn't even been a twinkle in her parents eyes back when he was imprisoned in stone by Discord was utterly humiliating him. Whatever. The fact she would be gone was fortuitous, in a way. Nevi's first birthday was coming up, and the two of them could celebrate properly without her in the way. Tirek was fairly certain Nevi didn't know Light was even related to her, anyway. He should get on with making her practice sword. Maybe a shield and a little helmet to go along with it, so she could have some fun playing war. Ponies had cakes with candles for their birthdays – should he try to do that, or follow tradition and “race” her? Almost every year in his homeland, Tirek had raced against his mother for his birthday, one mile for every year he'd lived. When he was old enough, he'd learned that parents traditionally let their children win these races, until they were grown adults and could face them as equals. Sometimes, though, before Tirek had been old enough to know the secret, his father, King Vorak, had raced him. Father had always won. If Tirek followed tradition for Nevi's first birthday, she would be running a full mile. Taking breaks, of course, but Tirek wasn't sure if he or Scorpan had actually started racing until they were three or so. That was a lot for little legs. And besides, if they went outside to do it, they risked being seen, either by a low-flying pegasus on their way to somewhere else, or by one of the earth ponies from the village, ten miles away, who might happen to be out for a walk or some other nonsense. No, better to make a cake. He'd just have to follow a recipe and hope it tasted good, even if it was surely going to be ugly. ~ Light did not come back for a month, missing her due date by at least a week. He almost hoped something had gone wrong, and he wouldn't have to see her again. On the day she returned, Tirek was stirring a pot of stew, silently bemoaning the lack of lamb's meat in a house meant for herbivores. Nevi was playing in the next room, whacking down stacks of pillow enemies with a wooden sword. Rain poured outside, the drops making a steady patter against the windows. A bell sounded through the house, signaling that the front door was being opened. Tirek stiffened. Familiar hoofsteps came up the stairs. He heard the sound of bags being deposited in Light's bedroom down the east wing. How easily he had been able to forget that the house belonged to someone else. For the last month, the house had just been his and Nevi's home, their shelter against the outside world. A jade nose poked through the door, rose gold eyes peering at him. “I didn't know you could cook.” Nevi had followed her imaginary battlefield through the other door, into what would've been the servant's corridor. Tirek lowered the heat on his stew and wiped his brow. “I've been dabbling.” He glared down at the unicorn slowly entering the space, her face impassive. “No new body, I see.” Her belly was flat. “What did you do?” Light shook herself and sat, coolly checking her hooves for dirt. “What do you think I did, Tirek? It was another failure, and if it were up to your bleeding heart, you'd be keeping every single one. It'd be a dead giveaway you were still in Equestria if half-centaur foals started showing up, so I did you a favor and killed it where your delicate little sensibilities wouldn't have to deal with it. You know, for a would-be conqueror, you're shockingly weak for foals.” Tirek was frozen for a moment. He really should've seen this coming. Every bone in his body wanted to seize Light Eternal by her neck and slowly choke the life from the heartless wretch, drain her of every last drop of her magic and then break her horn so that even if she ever recovered, she would lose what was most important to her in the world. But Tirek didn't do any of those things. Light had safeguards against all of them, and if he turned on her, then as soon as he could blink, the Royal Guard would be at the door, Light would be whimpering innocently, and Nevi would be proof that he just went one step further in his crimes against Equestria. He breathed in. He breathed out. Tirek glared down at her with all the heat he could muster. “Fuck you.” “Later, I still have to take my healing potions.” Light turned to leave. “I told everypony my pregnancy was a tumor, so ostensibly, I'm dead now. I'm not sure Luster bought it, but she won't go looking. So don't worry, there won't be any potential visitors. Goodnight.” And she pushed the door open again and left without another word. If she was going to cry in secret, Tirek didn't care. He turned off the heat from the finished stew as Nevi trotted back in. From the troubled look on her face, she might've heard some of what was said. Tirek put on a smile. “Let's have some dinner and go to bed, alright?” ~ That midnight, Tirek tugged some old, illegal leather saddlebags out from their space under his bed. He stuffed them with every little thing they owned – he had thankfully kept their belongings light, just in case. Softly rousing Nevi, Tirek put on his cloak, tucking her into a makeshift shoulder sling. He quietly made their way through the house, keeping to carpeted halls and servants' stairs, until he found one of the back doors. “Papa, where are we going?” Nevi whispered, rubbing one of her eyes. “I don't know yet,” Tirek said softly. “Somewhere better than here.” And the two of them fled swiftly into the drizzling, foggy night.