The princesses of Equestria take turns sharing Hearth's Warming stories from long ago. Holiday cheer does not ensue.
History doesn't stop when the curtains close. Short stories highlighting events taking place in the years after the founding of Equestria are told by the princesses. Holiday cheer does not ensue. These are written as a part of the Titano-verse but are compatible with general canon and do not require any additional reading to enjoy.
Current contents: "Hurricane's Fall" - Now an audiobook recorded by the way too awesome for words Scribbler. "Wedding Night Jitters." "Oracle of the Moon." May be continued at some future date but it is done for now.
Commander Hurricane forced herself to not look back over her shoulder at the foal. In her mind’s eye, however, she couldn’t force the image of those big, yellow eyes set within a blue-gray face beseeching her for some shred of maternal mercy. She could all too well imagine feeling her daughter’s eyes on her as she flew away from the tiny puff of cumulus where she had left the child. The cloud was small and shrinking rapidly as the light from Celestia’s golden orb caused it to evaporate.
Her daughter’s voice carried thinly through the rarified air. “Mama?” the child asked in confusion.
She closed her eyes and beat her wings faster. The pegasus who had never retreated from a battle her entire life was now fleeing from a scared little girl.
As she flew, the mare reflected on the bitter irony of her situation. She was the Commander Hurricane and, as a member of the Triumvirate that ruled over Equestria, the most powerful pegasus in the world. And yet, because of her position, she could not deviate from tradition in the slightest. A single flinch or a moment’s hesitation would spell the end of her position.
“I must be resolute,” she whispered to herself. She was careful to be quiet enough that the guards flanking her could not overhear her. It would not do for them to even suspect that she harbored doubts.
The foal she had left behind was Thundercloud, her youngest foal. Hurricane had known at the time of her daughter’s conception that she was getting somewhat old for foaling, but none of the physicians who had examined her at the time had found any indications of trouble. In fact, they had supported her decision, citing her extreme fitness and activity level for a mare her age. Despite these pronouncements, the pregnancy had been difficult from the start and the birth was a nightmare of pain and blood. Thundercloud’s entry into this world had torn her asunder and this foal, this strange, meek foal, was her bloodline’s last chance to continue.
The ponies’ arrival in Equestria had taken place over a decade ago. Songs and poems about this event were taught to every foal born in this green land. What these songs left out was that so few of the ponies that filled their homeland had survived to arrive at this idyllic place. Thundercloud was Hurricane’s seventh foal but was the only one of her line to survive. Four of her children had frozen to death battling the windigos. The two that survived the diaspora had died fighting the savage beasts that threatened the immigrant ponies.
The difficult pregnancy and delivery were just the beginning of her trials with this foal. Thundercloud was so different in appearance from both her mother and father, rumors were started about Hurricane's fidelity. The foal was bluish-grey with bright yellow eyes, mane, and tail. Hurricane was a solidly built pony. The mate she had chosen for this foal had been the quintessential sergeant: solid, strong, uncomplicated, and practical. Somehow, Thundercloud had ended up with a gangly and awkward collection of legs, wings, and neck. At once, the girl managed to be both delicate and clumsy and, try as she might, Hurricane could not find either herself or the sire in her.
The girl was timid. Despite her daughter’s name, the crack and rumble of thunder would send the filly scurrying under her bed. (Until Hurricane had forbade it in shame, the girl would run to her mother’s bed and try to hide underneath her wings like a newborn). The girl was weak. The other foals at the academy would bully her, as was expected and proper. Instead of defending herself, she would run and hide from her aggressors; bringing shame onto herself and family. The girl was clumsy. Other parents were given the gift of seeing their foals come home with bruises gained in battle against other children. Win or lose, those were badges of honor and bravery. She alone would greet her daughter at the door covered in bruises gained in some ignominious collision or fall. Eventually she had given up and stopped asking about from whence the battered filly’s bruises came. Commander Hurricane was, for the first time, defeated. “I did my best. I did all that I could,” Hurricane said to herself in an attempt to staunch the wound tearing its way through her heart.
She had hired the best tutors money could buy. She had trained the child herself in combat techniques when matters of state allowed the time. Desperate for any path that led away from this terrible fate, she had begged, she had shouted, she had bribed, and she had eventually beaten the child. But nothing she had done had broken Thundercloud’s softness.
In the distance she heard her child again, shouting in desperation. “Mama!”
The muscles in Hurricane’s neck popped and strained as she fought every instinct to turn around and race back to the child. Thundercloud may have been a failure, but she was her failure and a mother’s love doesn’t always obey the needs of the tribe. “This is why we have laws,” she growled through grinding teeth. She forced her wings to keep moving.
The last straw, as the earth ponies would say, was the fact that her daughter couldn’t fly. Thundercloud was of age to enter the agoge, and the unfledged could not pass into that stage of life. Among the pegasi, the unfledged were not allowed to pass out of childhood at all. Today was Thundercloud’s birthday, her last barring some miracle. The girl’s sire had left in disgust years ago, so when the guards came it was just the two of them. Knowing what was coming, she placed her foal upon her withers and allowed herself to be escorted by the cold-eyed pair.
Over the last few years, the whispers about her weak daughter had grown into a roar. Hurricane now spent more time quashing usurpers than actually ruling as a member of the Triumvirate. Despite the efforts of Posy to shield her from the hurtful words, samples of the seditious talk still occasionally reached her ears: “A mare too old to bear a healthy foal is too old to lead.” “The child is a reflection of the weakness hidden inside Hurricane, the same weakness that lead to the concessions with the other tribes that had cost us Pegasopolis.”
Hurricane knew that she held onto her power by the thinnest of threads and any weakness shown during this ritual would be used to force her into retirement. So she fought her instincts, grit her teeth, and forced herself to abandon her last living child. But as the sun burned away the last wisps of the cloud upon which her Thundercloud clung, the child let loose a terrified scream. The great general spun, unable to ignore the call of her child, and watched with tear-filled eyes as a faint gray speck spun and fluttered while falling thousands of feet. One of the stallions besides her sighed in disappointment while the other chuckled. In that instant, Hurricane’s reign was over.
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The six ponies sitting around Luna’s bedroom were all transfixed in horror and sorrow. Tears streamed from Twilight’s face. Rarity’s mouth hung open as if in a moan. Applejack was staring at Luna as if the mare had grown a second head. Rainbow Dash’s eyes promised death to the princess as Fluttershy sobbed silently into the blue mare’s fur. Pinky’s hair was deflated in depression as she lay on her back staring at the ceiling. To no one in particular the pink mare whispered, "And that's how Equestria was made."
Luna lowered the musty tome she had been using to help her remember the story she had just shared. She froze when she saw the state of her audience.
“What the hay was that!?!” asked a furious Rainbow Dash.
“But, you yourself asked me for a tale about the Fell Commander.”
“Cause it’s Hearth’s Warming Eve!” the orange mare replied since Dash was still busy trying to comfort Fluttershy.
“Yes, b-but I had thought you might have enjoyed hearing a story lost to memory,” the midnight mare stammered in her own defense.
“How in Equestria did you think that was appropriate for a Hearth’s Warming story!?!” cried Twilight.
“And how dare you accuse pegasi of doing things like that!” added Dash.
“I assure you, it was standard practice at the time,” said the panicking goddess, “I did not falsify anything.”
“I think I might be sick,” Fluttershy whispered in a small, queasy voice.
Rainbow reached out and grabbed a potted plant that was near at hoof. Keeping her eyes locked defiantly with those of the princess, she deliberately dumped the pot’s contents onto the floor. The now-empty pot was provided to Fluttershy in case she actually did vomit.
Shaking herself free of the mesmerizing act of defiance, Luna continued, returning to Twilight’s question, “It has a happy ending!”
Six pairs of horror-filled eyes silently accused her of madness.
“Thundercloud survives the fall. She gets adopted by an earth pony family, drops the ‘cloud’ from her name, and takes the name ‘Hooves’ in honor of her adoptive parents,” Luna blurted in one breath.
“You’re telling me that weird little filly grew up to be Thunder Hooves?” asked Dash with disbelief coloring her words.
“Oh good! She is still remembered!” said Luna, a bit too loudly in her desperation. “She was a very nice pony.”
“Nice?!?” replied Rainbow Dash. “Her nickname was ‘The Dragonslayer’!”
“Well, yes, she was that too,” was all Luna could muster in reply.
Silence fell in the room.
Luna fought against the nearly solid aura of awkwardness. “So, should we head down to the palace’s Hearth’s Warming Eve celebration? I was told that there was to be various and sundry snacks.”
Twilight, as the natural leader of the group, answered her. “I think I speak for everypony when I say that I am no longer in the mood for a party right now,” she stated flatly.
All of those who were capable of doing so nodded in agreement.
The purple mare was then followed by her friends; Rainbow Dash carrying Fluttershy in her forelimbs and Applejack dragging Pinkie across the polished marble floor by her tail. None of the mares closed the doors behind them so Luna could still hear Dash when next she spoke.
“Gray, blond, klutzy, and last name Hooves. You don’t think...”
“Naw,” said Applejack in her distinctive drawl. “Derpy being the descendant of the ol’ Dragonslayer? Now that there’s crazy talk.”
After the sextet of mares passed beyond the range of her hearing, Luna gingerly stepped around the mound of soil and traumatized fern and exited her private chambers. As she gently closed the double doors behind her, she sighed and resigned herself to a Hearth’s Warming Eve spent trying to explain to her sister why the Elements of Harmony were not in attendance.
Princess Cadance entered the large guest suite that the Elements of Harmony were sharing during this holiday visit to Canterlot. She had heard about the holiday-story fiasco from a distraught Luna. In between hoof-fulls of chocolates, the lunar mare had explained to the pink alicorn why her sister-in-law and her five best friends were conspicuously absent from the celebration. Luna’s story also explained why Celestia and her sister were, not nearly as subtly as they each believed, avoiding each other.
After recounting the dangers of developing a habit of stress-eating to the younger of her two “aunts”, citing Celestia herself being a prime example of this behavior and its consequences, the pink pony princess had departed the celebration for the tower that held the highest-status guests and the room she was now entering. From where she stood in the entrance hallway, she could hear what sounded like quiet snuffling from one mare and occasional moans from another. “Twilight? Girls?” she called. “It’s Cadance, may I come in?
After a moment’s pause Twilight replied, “I’m sorry Cadance. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
At this range, the alicorn of love could easily detect the emotional distress that filled the room ahead of her, therefore she chose to ignore Twilight’s request and entered the room anyways. “I’m sorry sweetie. I asked more for politeness’ sake than for permission,” Cadance said as she strode into the suite’s lounge area.
Six of the nine ponies she most cared for were scattered about the room, expressing various stages of grief. Fluttershy was laying on one of the rugs insulating the stone floor, curled up around what appeared to be an empty flowerpot. Applejack and Rainbow Dash were seated across from each other, playing a game of cards, while seething in anger. Pinkie Pie was draped over the back of one of the chairs, taking the posture of a discarded blanket far more accurately than was biologically possible. Rarity was filing a hoof while staring out into space, removing far more of the keratinous material than was actually warranted. Twilight, predictably, had her snout in a book. The title, however, is what grabbed Cadance’s attention: Hearth’s Warming Tales for Foals.
As Twilight looked up from the book, Cadance gave the young mare a gentle smile. “Trying to purge the effects of Luna’s story, I see.”
Rainbow Dash answered the princess before Twilight could open her mouth. Without looking away from Applejack she replied, “I guess Luna told you about her latest attempt at ‘Holiday Cheer’.”
“She is very upset about it,” said Cadance.
“Well so am-. Uh…so is Fluttershy. That’s not cool,” retorted the angry pegasus.
Cadance decided to allow the momentary slip of honesty to go by unnoted, allowing Applejack’s eyebrow to deliver all the commentary required at this time. “I know it isn’t. I’d like to help.”
This time it was Twilight who answered, “How?”
Cadance gestured to the foal’s storybook Twilight still held. “How about another story? Something to get the taste of the other one out of your mouth.”
All six pairs of eyes met hers with suspicion.
“You girls get to pick the type of story,” Cadance added.
“Something about unicorns this time?” requested Rarity.
“Something about Princess Celestia?” Twilight asked. Everyone else groaned at her predictable request.
“Something romantic, maybe with a wedding?” Fluttershy’s whisper was oddly amplified by the flowerpot held beside her muzzle.
“Something funny?” Pinkie asked, almost begging.
“If it’s about someone we know, like the princess, then make it something juicy,” requested Dash.
“Hay!” Twilight shouted as an objection.
“How about something true, historical and the like?” was Applejack’s request, going last and managing to smooth over the incipient quarrel between Twilight and Dash.
Cadance was silent for a moment processing the six, very different requests. Only one story came to mind. She continued to pause, weighing the benefit of sharing the story with the consequences of resurrecting the old tale. “Okay, I think I have one that fits everyone’s request. I wasn’t there for the events themselves but I’ve heard enough bits and pieces over the centuries that I’m pretty sure I have the whole of it.”
“Long, long ago, some decades after the founding of Equestria…”
Luna walked quietly into the room where her sister waited. Gray stone comprised the walls, ceiling, and floor. The stonework surrounded them, prison-like, hemming them in on every side. The unicorns used tapestries and rugs to disguise the fact that they were inside an artificial cave but, to Luna, those embellishments made no difference to her perception of the place.
Her sister sat upon her haunches, staring out an unglazed window. The opening was barely more than a glorified arrow slit, like all windows within the stone redoubt of the great unicorn fortress. Celestia either did not notice her intrusion or chose to ignore her. Either way, the pink maned alicorn continued to stare out at the barren mountain scenery, silently crying.
Luna’s face took on a sympathetic expression as she saw the tracks of sodden fur on her elder sister’s face. She approached and nuzzled her sister’s much larger barrel, trying to give comfort. The action mussed the filly’s pale blue mane, something for which her sister would normally chide her. Instead Celestia unfurled a wing and wrapped it around Luna, pulling the smaller alicorn against her.
“I don’t want to do this Luna,” Celestia said, stating the obvious.
“I know. But we promised,” was Luna’s reply, muffled by a thick blanket of feathers.
“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t go through with it, just that I didn’t want to.” Celestia’s normally clarion clear voice was thready with barely constrained dread.
“Oh,” was all the younger alicorn could think of to say in reply. She could feel that something more was needed so she pushed herself deeper into the hug.
After a minute Celestia broke the silence. “Today, I envy you your filly-like appearance.”
For Luna, the reverse was nearly constantly true. She pulled back from the hug so as to be able to see her sister as she talked to her and said, “Why?”
“General Nimbus is yet unwed.” Celestia’s reply was short but was heavy with implications.
Luna’s eyes widened. Fear and gratitude coursed through her. “I am millennia older than he.”
“But you look very young to them, childlike. Ineligible for marriage...and the rest of it.”
Luna looked up at her sister’s face and saw how much this course of action was costing Celestia. “We could run,” Luna suggested. “We can just fly away to somewhere else and leave this whole thing behind.”
“And then the war would start again,” Celestia answered in a flat, emotionless tone.
“That’s sad but it isn’t our fault,” implored the younger of the pair. “What they do with themselves is their own choice. Our responsibility is the sun and the moon, nothing more.”
“So you would leave the three tribes to their fighting?” Celestia answered her with a question, much to Luna’s irritation.
“Why not?” said Luna. “They will fight, some will win, some will lose, and then they will eventually make peace on their own terms.”
“Every day this war continues, more ponies die. We have the power to stop that.” Celestia’s tone began to solidify as she explained her reasoning to her sister and herself.
“Celly, they’ll die anyways. They always die. Eventually they’ll get sick, or eaten, or just get old and die on their own.”
“I’m sorry Moondust passed away,” Celestia replied. “She was a good friend to you.”
“She has nothing to do with this,” Luna said in an even but seething tone.
“Yes, of course.” Celestia conceded immediately.
“Stop doing that!” Luna said with rising volume.
Celestia finally looked away from the window with a confused expression on her face.
“Every time you think I’m being a silly-filly you say ‘Yes, of course’,” Luna accused.
“I don’t want to fight, Luna.”
“Maybe we should,” Luna’s voice held iron that belied her filly-like appearance.
“We are sisters. I love you. We shouldn’t ever need to fight,” was Celestia’s answer.
“I think you’re wrong,” Luna simply stated.
“Yes, of-.” Celestia cut the automatic reply off as her sister’s eyes flashed with righteous anger. She tried again, “Fine, Lulu. We can talk about this more later. We have too much to do today to have this conversation.”
“Better. Not good, but better,” was Luna’s reply. “What about the wedding? We can’t wait to talk about that.”
“I’m going through with it,” Celestia admitted to both herself and her sister.
“But he’s awful,” Luna pleaded.
“As you pointed out, he’s mortal. He will pass from life very soon, no more than a few decades. I can tolerate him for that long.”
“He’s going to want to…” Luna refused to say the rest.
“I know,” Celestia said, grimly, “but he already has children from his first wife. This arrangement does not require me to foal. The rest…I can endure.”
“I don’t want you to have to endure, Tia,” Luna entreated. “I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy, Luna. I’m happy knowing that I’ve ended this war. I’m happy saving the lives of my little ponies.”
Luna’s brow furrowed, “They aren’t yours to save, Tia.”
“In about ten minutes, they will be,” was Celestia’s answer.
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The royal rump ached.
Efforts were made to prevent this. Royal cushions were placed between her dock and the throne but even the fluffiest of pillows could not change the fact that the damned chair was carved from a single block of stone. Nor could any combination of silk, satin, and down change the fact that Queen Platinum had spent the last five decades of her life sitting upon its implacable surface. No cushion, leach, or apothecary could do a thing about the fact that she had gotten old.
The arthritis in her hips was only one of a multitude of indignities age had heaped upon her, the queen reflected. Her mane that had once been the shimmering color of her namesake was now reduced to a dull and lifeless gray. Her long and graceful neck, once a source of pride and the topic of courtly poetry, had been disfigured by time into something that would look more at home on a turkey. But the worst humiliation of them all was the sad and reduced state of her family.
Her father, King Aurum, had never made the exodus to Equestria. He had sent her, then just a princess and barely even a full-grown mare, in his stead. From the last of the reports to escape the encroaching ice, he had been trying to develop some magical system of holding back the cold using crystals. Presumably, he had failed. He died doing what he loved and Platinum despised him for it. Her father could have lived, could have made the journey and spent the remainder of his life beside her. Instead, the old king had chosen to stay and die with his toys of brass, tin, and quartz rather than spend a lifetime with her.
Despite her father’s dereliction, perhaps in defiance thereof, she had made a life for herself. While her crown was her birthright, nopony would ever dispute the fact that she had earned her title many times over. With Clover at her side, she had worked tirelessly for the benefit of her people. During the decades of peace while the Harmonious Triumvirate ruled, her people had prospered. She had even allowed herself to believe in the future. As a result, she had taken a consort and foaled a pair of colts.
Her firstborn son, Argentum, had been the very image of unicorn nobility. He had come of age during the fraying of the Triumvirate, after Hurricane was forced into retirement by younger and more ambitious pegasi. When the war (now named by poets as the Reign of Discord) started, he was a full grown but still young stallion. The old grey mare cracked a lopsided smile at the memory of her beautiful son, resplendent in silver-plated armor, blade gripped in his aura, standing tall on the battlements. The all the unicorns loved him. There was nothing he could request from his soldiers that they would not provide, up to and including their lives.
Platinum sighed and the smile broke as she thought, “T’was only fair. For that was what he gave for them, in the end.”
Her second son, the one that lived, she had named Cupric. He was only a two years younger than Argentum but comparing the colts was as if comparing the moon to the sun. Platinum felt that in her eldest son, her most noble elements had been refined. Argentum had been gracious, generous, and brave to a fault. Cupric, she admitted in the darkest of nights, had inherited the balance of her soul. In him she saw her venal and petty tendencies empowered by a sharp wit and unrestrained by any conscience or ethics. Perhaps, she wondered, she had made things worse by shunning the younger son in preference to the elder but being in Cupric’s presence had always been unpleasant for her. To Queen Platinum, looking at him felt like staring into a cursed mirror that only reflected one’s flaws.
“Of course he was the one to live,” Platinum mused. While she was disappointed that fate would rob her of her favored son, she had no problem admitting that Cupric was a consummate survivor. If she had been pressed to bet on which son would have lived to middle-age she would have begrudgingly placed her money on the younger of the pair.
She looked over to him, her one remaining son, standing in his finest court attire. “Lurking,” she mentally corrected. Even standing in the open, in broad daylight, on his wedding day, her son somehow managed to lurk. His muscular frame, covered in a gleaming white coat was just beginning to soften with age and his blond mane and tail was sprinkled with gray hairs. His face was handsome, but only if you examined him the same way as one looked at a portrait. In person, his eyes ruined the hansom and noble facade he so carefully cultivated. The deep blue orbs never showed any warmth or affection; when not actively luring somepony to their doom, they were as lifeless as a doll’s.
Trumpets blared, announcing the usurpers, and the great double doors swung open to admit the goddesses. Queen Platinum scowled at the pair of alicorns as they approached her and bowed.
“Rise, Celest,” Platinum commanded.
“I would prefer it if you called me Celestia, Your Majesty,” the white alicorn corrected.
“Celestia is the name of the goddess of the sun. Celest is more appropriate for an unwanted daughter-in-law.”
Celestia swallowed, trying desperately to regain control of her stunned face. “Of c-“
The smaller, blue alicorn cleared her throat, interrupting her sister.
“You may call me ‘Celest’ if it pleases you, ma’am.
The queen snorted, “I would be far more pleased if this whole fiasco was unnecessary, but here we are.”
Celestia’s mouth hung open as she struggled for anything diplomatic to say in response.
“Were it up to the ingenuity of the unicorn race, then we wouldn’t be here, would we? My father used to say, ‘Unicorns could move the sun and moon were they but made of brass and tin.’”
“All acknowledge the skill and ingenuity of unicorn craftsponies.”
“As a girl I used to dream of that day. A lifetime later, the sun still obeys this pony-shaped creature in front of me and I cannot find a clock that will keep the time.”
“I…I-“ Celestia desperately searched for a polite response.
The old mare snorted and shook her head at the amateurish attempt at court banter. “Mountaintop snows don’t grow wheat, so my soldiers grow thin on a diet of lichen and pine-cones. We must surrender to you.”
“The other two tribes surrendered as well,” Luna interjected. Her sister was still rendered mute by the rapid twists and turns the conversation was taking.
“Chancellor Puddinghead will still be a chancellor tomorrow. General Nimbus will still be a general tomorrow. Will I still be a queen on the morrow?"
“I’m sorry?” said Celestia, confused.
“Yes, yes. You’re sorry, I’m sorry, my son is a particularly sorry specimen.”
The stallion, standing only a few feet away from his mother, smirked.
Platinum continued after Celestia failed to produce a reply. “As per the terms of the treaty, we will accept your authority over all three tribes, including the unicorns. In exchange, you will marry my son Cupric, thereby preserving the nobility of my line. Nowhere within the agreement did it say that I had to like you, which, as you may have noticed, I don’t.”
“Have…have I done something to offend you, Your Majesty?” the alicorn asked with a shaking voice.
“Your existence offends me. Your necessity offends me. Your ageless grace offends me,” the unicorn answered. “You are ancient but will never be old. You will never know loss as a mortal does. You will never know the horror of dying inch-by-inch as the years pass you by. You will never witness the death of your son. You are a thing, no matter how pony-like you appear.”
Celestia stood silently as the old mare heaped insults upon her. As Queen Platinum paused, panting for breath after the long diatribe, the alicorn answered with a voice calm and clear. “My mother is dead and buried, Your Majesty. I have heard tales that such things are a common occurrence among mortals.”
Platinum made an amused snort, “My, my, my. She can bite. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
Celestia could only make confused expressions in response to the ill-gotten praise.
Queen Platinum explained, “Wandering about the countryside answering prayers and lugging about celestial objects is not relevant training to be the head of state. If my gentle barbs leave you flustered and wounded, you’ll never be able to withstand the intrigues of court.”
Celestia lips curled as an idea took form, “Perhaps, if Your Majesty would be willing to teach me how?” she asked.
“You presume that I want this treaty to last.” the Queen said, archly. “Why should I not just sabotage you and ruin your aspirations at royalty. Given a few years to stockpile food, perhaps the unicorns would fare better in the next war.”
“I don’t wish to take your crown but it was the only way to get all three sides to agree to the treaty. If milady recalls, her own nobles were quite adamant that I marry into the royal family.”
“I believe they called you ‘a jumped-up solar tart,’” Platinum smiled like a cat spotting a mouse, “if my aging and feeble mind can accurately recall their statements.”
Celestia, rather than allowing her voice betray her agitation, silently nodded.
You’re telling me that you have no wish to be queen? That you are doing all of this for our good?” the queen asked as if the answer was obvious.
“That is correct, Your Highness,” Was Celestia’s simple answer.
With a face deliberately projecting doubt, Platinum replied, “If that is indeed the case, then I have a proposition for you; an addendum to the treaty, if you will.”
“Um, the other two tribes have already agreed and signed the treaty as prepared,” Celestia was clearly unsure about altering the delicately negotiated armistice.
“This will not affect any of the other tribes.” the monarch claimed. “I’ll agree to tutor you in the art of politics if you allow me to keep my title.”
“The other two tribes only agreed to follow me and my sister if your people did the same,” Celestia immediately answered.
“I did not say that we wouldn’t,” Platinum said with a thin smile. “I only ask that you not style yourself as queen. If what you say is true, wouldn’t the title of reigning princess be enough?”
Celestia thought on this for a moment and then answered, “Dowager-Queen for yourself and Duke of Canterlot for your son. That is as far as I can go. I wouldn’t want ponies to get confused as to who is in charge if I am to go around as Princess Celestia.”
Queen Platinum’s brow rose in pleasant surprise. “Dowager-Queen Platinum, the last monarch of the unicorn tribe does have bit of a ring to it,” said the old mare. She rolled the title around her mouth, getting the taste of it for a moment before agreeing. “Very well, it is done.”
“I am glad we could come to an agreement,” said Princess Celestia. “Should we begin the ceremony?”
“Oh deary, do please keep up,” Platinum teased. “The it that was done was your marriage, I am a queen after all and expedite things at my pleasure. Welcome to the family, for all that it’s cracked up to be.”
“Oh,” was all Princess Celestia could say in response to the news that she was a married mare.
Cupric, the Duke of Canterlot, formerly styled Prince Blueblood the first, winked salaciously at his bride and trotted up beside her, making sure to touch his flank against hers as he guided her towards the large double doors.
“Happy honeymoon,” said the dowager-queen as the couple exited the throne room together, leaving Platinum and Luna behind. Turning her eyes to the indigo alicorn remaining within the room Platinum asked the filly-like goddess, “So, both you and your sister are princesses now, equal in rank. I wonder how that’s going to work out?”
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“There!” exclaimed the pink alicorn. “I’m sure that story was much better than the travesty Luna shared with you.” As she brought her focus back to her audience she noticed that their expressions were not what she had been expecting. . . . A few moments later, Princess Cadance burst through the guest suite’s doorway at a full gallop fleeing an intense volley of pillows, cushions, a few cupcakes of unknown provenance, and a flowerpot full of sick.
Celestia uncrossed her eyes and looked up from the blond and gray pegasus she was entertaining. Her sister had inexplicably but specifically invited Ponyville’s mailmare to the palace’s Hearthswarming celebration but had completely ignored the poor thing, leaving the middle-class civil servant adrift in a sea of noble snobbery. The regent of the day had discovered the skittish mare hiding behind one of the six decorative trees that had been erected in the ballroom. The tinkling sound of breaking ornaments had drawn her attention.
At first, Celestia’s company had made the pegasus’ nerves even worse but after several minutes of gentle, albeit one-way, conversation the gray mare began to calm down and forget about the divine nature of company she was keeping. The alicorn had eventually coaxed the mare onto the topic of the royal mail service and was surprised how much different the organizational structure and operating procedures looked from “ground level.” As she cast about looking for her missing sister, Celestia made a mental note to discuss these inefficiencies with her secretary as soon as the holiday was over.
She spotted her previously missing sister alongside her “niece.” Both were muzzle deep in the chocolate fountain, drinking from it as if it were a trough. Her eyebrows suddenly rose at the peculiar display of royal shame she was witnessing. She politely but firmly disengaged herself from the cross-eyed mailmare and worked her way across the crowded ballroom. While her bulk could make such a crossing difficult, her status prompted ponies of all standing to scurry out of her way as best they could. “Very much like the sun breaking through a pastel-tinted bank of clouds,” she thought to herself with a smile. Because of the equine shield between Celestia and her relatives, the other alicorns had no warning of her approach. One moment the two younger goddesses were obliviously guzzling molten chocolate and in the next, they froze in place as they felt the solar goddess bring her presence to bear on them.
Luna was the first to lift her face from the sweet pool. Her face bore a haunted expression that was shockingly incongruous with her chocolate-coated snout. The effect was even worse on Cadance; her vibrant pink coat clashed against the smears of melted, brown solace dripping from her chin. Her eyes, however, were the most disturbing thing to Celestia. They lacked all spark of humor or intellect, resembling those of a prey animal near the end of the hunt. As Celestia took the final few steps towards the guilty pair, the smell of vomit wafted up from her honorary niece. The great white alicorn developed a slightly greenish tinge and swallowed repeatedly before speaking with a tone as heavy as gold. “Where is Twilight and how is this your fault?”
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Several minutes later and completely unheralded, Celestia entered the guest suite occupied by the depressed Elements of Harmony. A moment afterwards, Luna and Cadance, each dragged by an ear pinched by a golden aura, reluctantly entered the room as well. Only Twilight’s reverence for her goddess and mentor outweighed the leaden mood that had rendered them motionless.
“Princess! You should be downstairs!” Twilight pointlessly objected instead of greeting Celestia.
“And a happy Hearthswarming to you too, Twilight, girls.” the alicorn replied, nodding to her student in particular and the other five ponies in general. The other mares could not help but raise their heads in response to their Princess’ sudden and unexpected appearance.
“But the ball-” Twilight persisted.
“-Is just as incomplete without me as it was without the six of you.”
Twilight’s third response died on her tongue, executed for treason by her monarch's well-trained eyebrow.
“I am given to understand that some ponies have been telling stories, ones that were better left forgotten. Is that true?”
Twilight and her five friends moaned something to the affirmative.
“In that case,” Celestia resumed using her best school-marm demeanor, “Luna and Cadance have something to say to you all.”
“Mumble-grumble sorry mumble.” were the word-like noises the chastised alicorns produced with their brown-stained mouths. The two goddesses winced as the aura gripping their ears brightened.
Celestia sighed deeply after the aura dimmed back to its original brightness. “Try again.”
“We are sorry we ruined your Hearthswarming Eve by telling bad stories,” Luna and Cadance said in unison.
Celestia nodded and her expression softened as she bodily levitated both alicorns to existing gaps among the six friends. “Now, since the two of you have had your fun, I think it is only fair that I have a chance to tell a story and rescue the evening.”
True fear began to show through Luna’s and Cadance’s eyes as the golden glow of the magic aura shifted to their docks, anchoring the pair of them to the stone floor.
Twilight, gaping like a fish out of water at the display before her, was nearly bowled over as the Princess of the Sun, Regent of the Day, her mentor, and second mother winked at her.
“I suppose the best way to begin is the most traditional,” the white alicorn prefaced. “Once upon a time…”
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A stallion’s forehoof smashed through the inch-thick ice, shattering upwards with a spray that froze instantaneously into snow. Grasping blindly, the limb found the stone edge of the pool. Muscles bulged as purchase was found and a charcoal gray body hauled itself out of the icy water. Exhausted and trembling from thermal shock, the stallion wanted nothing more than to stay prone and catch his breath. He forced himself to ignore the thought as inadvertently suicidal. Trembling with effort, the earth pony regained his footing and shook himself dry like a dog. Ice, already reforming in his black mane jangled and shattered while droplets flung into the air rattled and plinked, frozen solid by the time they reached the stone floor.
Stumbling from dizziness, he squinted his eyes in an attempt to see through the clouds of mist that rose from his body. He could make out a rectangle of deeper dark against the nearly black stone; a way out. Grunting with the effort, he strained to lift his rear-left hoof. With a crack, the ice binding the limb to the floor gave way. The process was repeated with each of his other hooves in turn. When it was once again his rear-left hoof’s turn to lift he came up short. He growled in irritation at having to break free once again. As he strained, his eyes suddenly flared wide, stopping his efforts for a moment. He looked back at his foot, worry mixing with a sudden new dread. Lips pressed tight, he turned back and fixed his eyes on his direction of travel. The tremors rocking his body doubled as a high-pitched squeal emanated from his hoof as he lifted it. Unable to stop himself, he looked back and saw his iron shoe still frozen to the stone floor, with the nails that had affixed it glinting in the starlight as they stood tall and straight. Forcing himself forward, he lost the other three shoes the same way. For once, he was grateful for the numbing cold of the stone beneath his hooves.
“Für die Liebe des Nacht-märr,” he swore using the old earth-pony term for the goddess whose wing of Everfree castle he had entered. As he stepped over the threshold into the next chamber he felt as if he just entered a smithy despite the fact that the temperature here was the same as it was outside, that of a crisp autumn evening. The extreme change in temperature was too much for his abused flesh and he fell to one knee as his vision narrowed to a gray tunnel. He leaned against the smooth black marble of the wall to help him regain his hooves. As he slid upwards, a trail of bright red blood was smeared onto its surface. Each of his flanks bore a bloody and raw patch where his Mark of Destiny had been removed. He focused on his goal, shutting out the pain as he forced his cracked hooves to bear his weight once again.
As he resumed his march he fought to quash the thought that he had to be near the end of this labyrinth. Instead he reminded himself that the whole point of a labyrinth was to confuse the traveler. He had prepared himself as best as anypony could. He had tracked down the centuries-old stories, supposedly from ponies that had survived this trial and claimed their boon from the moon goddess. The pegasi called her Selene, the unicorns named her Luna, his own tribe called her by a title rather than by a simple name. Earth ponies invoked her as Die märr des Nacht. Turning his logical mind back to his journey, he reminded himself that he could very well be near the beginning or the end of the labyrinth. Every petitioner’s tale agreed that the labyrinth within the Lunar wing of the castle made no sense. Either the stones themselves moved or geometry was somehow broken within this divine place. This train of thought did its duty and distracted him from the pain long enough for him to come to yet another chamber of trials.
He fought the very equine instinct to hope that his journey was almost complete. “Hope does not help a stallion,” he reminded himself as he assayed the room he had entered, “effort, determination, and planning do.”
The room must be spherical, he surmised, around him was a perfect and seamless recreation of the night sky. The room held a thin mist, obscuring any details one might see of the stone walls while still allowing the “stars” the shine and glimmer. “Diamonds or sorcery?” he wondered.
The path his legs had followed without thought ended abruptly one step further on. The light mist thickened with depth, eventually obscuring the representations of stars below the horizon as well as whatever fate lay in wait for those who fell. Upon thinking the word “fall” he felt a wave or vertigo wash over him. He carefully sat and closed his eyes a moment, allowing the world to stop spinning. Reopening his eyes, he paused a moment. He glared at the star-field before him, suspicious. Then the stars moved again. His stomach lurched as the world seemed to spin like a failing top. He fell prone while closing his eyes and wrapped his forelimbs around the spur of stone that held him aloft. With a whimper he felt the hidden shards of glass or sharpened stone on the underside of the spur sink into the flesh of his arms. “Of course it wouldn’t be that simple,” he mused ruefully.
Forcing himself to not flinch, pull away, or tighten his grip he concentrated on the simple act of breathing. “There has to be a way,” he said to himself to fight the rising panic. “None of the rooms ever just kill you. You always have some chance.” With another breath to brace himself, he opened his eyes. Immediately, he sought out the north-star the single stationary point in the room. With this visual anchor point he was able to regain his footing. A quick glance to the side almost unmade him but he regained his balance before plummeting to his death. Forcing calm upon himself he saw the riddle hidden in plain sight. One cardinal direction was sacred to each sister. North was the sacred direction of Die Märr des Nacht, while south was sacred to the Lightbringer. With steely eyes he focused on the imobile north star leading his way and stepped from the platform expecting to land on an invisible walkway. Too surprised to scream, he silently plummeted through the mist below.
Sometime later, the stallion awoke. He was so exhausted and battered his body would barely respond to his mental orders. Raising his head caused the muscles in his neck to seize and tremble but he instantly declared the view as worth every moment of suffering. An indigo mare, incongruously larger than a full grown earth-pony stallion and yet still appearing graceful and delicate stood before him. She was draped in the whitest, softest cloth the stallion had ever seen and she wore a golden mask in the shape of a starburst. There were no holes for eyes in the mask but her horn pierced the star’s heart. Her wings fluttered, seemingly in response to the weight of his gaze.
“Du är wundershön.” The words fell from his mouth before he could think to stop them.
The muzzle, visible beneath the golden star, frowned. A moment of shame flared in his heart as he realized he had not spoken in the common tongue, the hybrid language now being called Equestrian, but in the archaic and dying earth-pony language. Making matters worse, he had used the wildly inappropriate familiar pronoun. He hunched in anticipation of the goddess’ justified rebuke.
To his shock, she replied using the same tongue. She spoke with perfect pronunciation, her only accent one of antiquity. “We are not entertaining any offers of marriage at this time.”
The stallion blinked. He hadn’t even considered that possibility. His mind reeled with the potential outcomes but a moment later he dismissed the thought as pure fantasy. Given that she understood his father’s tongue he continued in that language, “I do not come here seeking a wife.”
“Oh,” was the goddess’ reply. “Of course you aren’t, that was silly of me to assume.” Her frown softened into something more complicated as the atmosphere became abruptly awkward.
“Um,” the stallion grasped for any threads with which to sew together a conversation. “Did you want me to?”
“What! No! Of course not! I… guess. That is much more my sister’s kind of thing anyways. She’s always turning down marriage proposals.”
“I have no interest in your sister.” The stallion said these words with an intensity that whipped the goddess’ head around.
“Oh,” the word as she said it was the same as before but the meaning was entirely different. “I, um, don’t hear that very often.”
The stallion continued using words worn smooth with practice, “I have renounced your sister’s rule over me. I have renounced my name and my Mark. I have renounced her light and warmth. I have renounced all my possessions and family. I have endured your labyrinth and prostrate myself before you, the Night-Mare.” As he said this, he shifted his posture from that of a dying animal to that of a bowing supplicant.
The goddess regarded the stallion prostrate before her, “So my sister turned down your request?”
“I never asked her. I came to you, first and only.”
Beneath the mask the goddess’ lips formed a nervous smile. “I… ah, wow. Um… hold on.” She turned around and there was the distinct sound of un-ladylike (and un-divine for that matter) struggling, a clattering noise in the distance, followed by a muttered, “bloody stupid thing.” Luna turned back around, this time without the golden mask obscuring her features.
The stallion met her eyes for a moment that stretched forever. She looked surprisingly young, like a mare just a year or two into adulthood. He marveled at the apparent youth of the ancient and alien being before him. Then, he blinked, the moment ended, and he dropped his eyes to the floor.
“You, um, don’t have to, uh, look down like that if you don’t want to,” Luna prompted nervously.
“I would not presume, my fell mistress. I forgot myself for a moment but I will not dishonor you again.”
“Oh,” she sounded somewhat disappointed. The stallion wondered why and hoped that his momentary impertinence did not ruin his chances for gaining his boon.
“So, what should I call you?” the goddess asked.
“I no longer have a name but you may remedy that with but a word,” was the stallion’s immediate reply.
“So… if I called you, Sunshine Foofykins you would go by that name for the rest of your life?”
The stallion swallowed and let out a strangled, “Yes.”
“Fluffy Cotton Bunny Tail?”
“If you so desire, but I was hoping for something more…you.”
The goddess’ grin had expanded to cover her entire face. “Hmmm, so it would be fine with you if I named you ‘Fluffy’?” she teased.
Trapped between the name “Fluffy” and the act of disagreeing with his declared goddess the stallion gaped like a fish out of water.
“Fine, I’ll have mercy on you,” the goddess giggled like a school-filly, much to the shock and dismay of the stallion before her. After the laugh, however, several pregnant seconds of silence fell on them as the mare suddenly realized that she had no idea what to name the stallion. “Um, how about ‘Shadow’?” she smiled lamely, knowing full well how trite a name it was.
Eager to avoid any of the aforementioned fates, he pounced on the somewhat juvenile name. “I shall wear this name with pride and honor for the rest of my days.”
The goddess raised one corner of her mouth in amusement. “So, um… Shadow. What brings you here?”
He shifted his body so as to expose the bloody patches on his flanks. “I reject the destiny the Morningstar had selected for me. I come to you seeking a new one.”
She inhaled through her teeth at the sight, “Doesn’t that… “
“Yes. A lot.”
“Oh, and you want me to give you a new one?”
Shadow nodded. “For centuries now, the unicorns have dominated the economy of Equestria. Every skilled trade is theirs. They grow rich and fat while the earth ponies sweat and starve.”
“Oh. Don’t you think that has more to do with, well, their horns and their aura’s grip?” Luna replied. She was growing unsettled at the direction the topic was headed.
“So you think it is fair that one tribe alone may craft every fine object and tool, another may control the wind and rain, and the third can… lift heavy things?” His last three words dripped with sarcasm.
“Ah. No, not really but there is more to an earth pony’s gift than just strength,” she stammered.
“Yes, endurance and heart; those were the gifts that allowed me to gain passage through your labyrinth. A fact for which I am quite grateful,” Shadow added.
“But not grateful enough, it seems.” Her smile had faded over this portion of the conversation and was entirely gone by now.
“A Mark, a talent for any skilled trade, would make up the difference between an earth pony’s mouth and a unicorn’s horn,” the stallion countered.
“I suppose, but a Mark to just become as good at something as an un-Marked member of another tribe seems a bit of a waste.”
“Do you not trust us to decide such things ourselves?” He said, sounding a bit offended.
“It isn’t really a matter of trust; the process you are asking for is a bit more complicated than you are making it sound,” she tried to explain.
“Oh?” he replied, sardonically.
“It’s not like I can just create a new destiny out of nothing,” Luna answered.
“I see. Is it because your sister doesn’t allow it?” the stallion asked, forcing his face and tone to remain neutral.
“SHE FORBIDS ME NOTHING!!!” the goddess shouted with sudden venom, driving her hooves downward to punctuate her declaration. The stones beneath her hooves were instantly pulverized into very shiny black sand. Dust fell in tiny streamers from the joints between the stones in the vaulted and currently swaying ceiling.
Shadow’s eyes showed white around their irises as he wondered if he had overplayed this card. “I am sorry I said such a thing. I was mistaken.”
“You are not mistaken, you are simply wrong,” the Mare of Night growled. “I was mistaken for allowing you to pass the trials.”
“Will you still honor my petition for a boon or have I asked for too much? I did not realize such a thing was beyond your power.”
Luna’s teal eyes narrowed, resembling those of a cat about to pounce. “It is not beyond my power foolish mortal. Do not tempt me to destroy you here and now.”
“So what I request is neither beyond your ability nor your authority and yet you refuse me? Why?” Shadow asked with feigned innocence.
The goddess glared at him for several seconds. Eventually she spit out an answer. “To give you a new destiny I must take one from another. Somepony must die to give this to you. Do you still want your new mark knowing this price?”
Shadow smiled a toothy grin, “The only real limit to one’s power is how willing you are to use it. I have no problem with this cost.”
Luna’s eyes narrowed with disgust. “What talent do you ask for?”
“I have been a miner of gems my whole life. My old talent is the same. I wish to be a gem-cutter instead. I want to be able to cut and facet any crystal in creation,” Shadow declared.
Luna closed her eyes and her horn glowed azure. The raw patches of flesh on Shadow’s flanks lit with the same light. As the glow of her aura faded, the goddess opened her eyes. “There,” she spat. “You are now a murderer as well as the finest gem-cutter in the world.”
The stallion eagerly turned to look at his flank but all he saw was red ruin. “Nothing’s there.”
“It will be when the skin grows back,” Luna replied. “I want you gone, now. I will send you away to be rid of you all the faster. To where shall I cast thee, Shadow?”
The stallion took the time for him to stand to think. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go by a variation of the name you chose for me. An translation into one of the unicorn dialects, I think.”
Luna’s voice dripped with hate, “I care not what you call yourself. I’ll only ask one more time before I choose for you: Where will I send you, foul Shadow.”
As Celestia finished her tale she looked up to take in her audience’s reaction. The jaws and eyes of all six mortal ponies were open as wide as they could go. The stunned silence was broken by a growling sound to her left. Turning, she saw a look of pure fury on her niece Cadance’s face. Her sister was reciprocating with a look composed of equal parts worry and shame.
“YOU caused that?!?” Cadance bellowed.
“Well, not really. How was I supposed to know what he was going to do with that talent!” Luna attempted to defend herself. “Besides, I was mostly Nightmare Moon by then. I’m barely the same person anymore.”
“You. Killed. Me,” Cadance looked apoplectic.
“Not, YOU you. Just... the OLD you.” Luna wasn’t making much sense to the six friends.
“Um, what the hay are they talking about?” Applejack, the first to recover, asked the room in general.
Celestia turned back to the mortal portion of her audience. “Sombra used his new talent to kill the Crystal Empress, cut her amethyst horn from her body, and attach it to himself. Using her power with his talent he was able to quickly subdue the Empire and enslave the crystal ponies. It took Cadance most of a millennium to reincarnate properly.”
The recitation of crimes wrought against her previous incarnation and homeland proved too much for Cadance’s composure. She belted out a war-cry and flung herself at Luna. The alicorn of night instantly dissolved into shadow and reformed herself outside the window. Flecks of foam graced the edges of Cadance’s normally graceful mouth as the alicorn of love smashed through the window, giving chase to Luna. The two rapidly disappeared into the snowy night sky.
Celestia broke the stunned silence. “Well, that should suffice as their lesson about sharing stories they have no business sharing,” she harumphed, “and on Hearthswarming Eve too.” Standing up from her cushion, Celestia turned her body towards the door. “Come along girls, there’s an ingenious chocolate fountain I’m sure everypony will want to try.” With that, she walked out the door, completely disregarding the scene of shock and devastation she left behind.
