Zephyrina slept.
Crown Princess Haven stared at her daughter, asleep in her crib, the newborn so tiny and beautiful. Her face squinched in her sleep, the bright fuschia eyebrows furrowing for a moment beneath the sparse strands of mane.
Standing, forelegs crossed on the crib railing, Haven's tail swished and her wings hung loose. By hoofness, she was tired! Her parents had warned her, time and again, sleep whenever the baby sleeps, or you'll never sleep at all, and they were right, for sure.
But... when little Zephyrina was awake, she was an unholy little terror. Always hungry and demanding, and acid reflux making her scream inconsolably an hour after every feeding.
So: if Haven just wanted to see her daughter, to enjoy her smile and her chubby cheeks and the flicking of the tiny wings in her dreams and the all-around perfection, what better time than when she was asleep?
A soft knock sounded on the door. "Come in," Haven said quietly.
One of her ladies-in-waiting, Cloud Dancer, crept in. "Highness? The King wishes to see you."
Haven smiled tiredly. "Of course, he doesn't need to ask to see his granddaughter."
"He's in your office, Highness."
Haven's smile turned into a snarl, a growl low in her throat. "Royal business now?" If she wasn't just watching little Zephyrina sleep, she would take that nap. So had no interest in—
Zephyrina woke up, instantly screaming in hunger, and an unholy abomination that was somehow a combination of noise and stench announced a Royal diaper change.
Haven entered the ornate office from which she fulfilled her duties as Crown Princess. The King was already sitting on one of the couches, something wrapped up in a blanket next to him. Probably a gift for Zephyrina, who continued screaming as Haven hopped three-legged into the office, the freshly diapered infant cradled in her left foreleg.
"Father," Haven said.
The King smiled. "Zipp has a royal set of lungs, eh?"
Haven rolled her eyes. "Zephyrina is hungry." Spreading her own legs, Haven then set the tiny princess onto her hooves. Tiny legs trembled and tiny wings flapped. Crying turned to suckling and Haven grimaced at the still-unfamiliar discomfort as the newborn latched.
After two deep breaths, Haven decided Zephyrinia was nursing well. "Yes, Father?"
"I apologize for the timing, but I almost wonder if it was meant to be."
"No. Whatever it is—no. I'm not the Crown Princess right now. I'm on maternity leave."
"Royals don't get leave. Our obligations are to our ponies, not to ourselves."
Haven glared. "I'm taking leave."
"You remember the histories, right? The Age of Harmony?"
"Myths," Haven said. "Myths, not history."
"In the old days," the King said, "a father and a mother need not be the same breed of pony."
"Hmmmpf," Haven said.
"A pegasus mother might birth a unicorn infant, and no one paid it any more mind than we pay a pink mother," he gestured at Haven, "birthing a white infant," he gestured at Zephyrina.
"Hmmmpf," Haven repeated. That was what the histories in the secret libraries in the Castle said. But it seemed... unlikely.
"Even after the retrenchment," her father said, "ponies would be born of the wrong type. It happened quite often, those first few generations, or so say the old stories."
Haven closed her eyes. Zephyrina was already slowing down, not as hungry as Haven expected, and probably would need another nap soon. Haven's milk was fully in, and she hoped Zephyrina wouldn't stop too soon. Her teats were heavy and uncomfortable.
"The last contact we kept with the other kinds of ponies, say the records from our ancestors of the Royal line, was to take in any pegasi born to them, and to carry unicorns or earth ponies born in Zephyr Heights to them."
"Really?" Haven said. "I've never heard of such a thing."
"What other option is there? Infanticide?"
It was the hormones, Haven told herself, hormones making her emotions brittle, but at the word infanticide she burst into tears, thinking about the fragile life she now cared for. Her shoulders heaved and tears flowed instantly. Stupid hormones.
"Indeed," said her father. "It's rare, nowadays, for a non-pegasus to be born here. Once every two or three generations, but all of us have unicorns and earth ponies in our ancestry. Do not imagine we don't."
"What a despicable thought," Haven said, wiping her eyes with her wings. Then she saw the purple blanket on the couch next to her father move, and a small cooing sound escaped from it.
"N-no, father, no, you can't be..."
He picked it up, held it to his chest, and gently rocked it. "Her parents already told their friends and family it was a stillbirth. The maternity staff at the hospital are sworn to secrecy. I've provided a ballasted coffin for the funeral."
The blanket fell, revealing a tiny sleeping face.
A face with a horn.
Haven shook her head. "Father, send a squad of guards to carry it to Bridlewood."
"Her, Haven. Not 'it.' Her."
Zephyrina unlatched and plopped to her bottom. Haven bent down, picked her up, and moved to her desk chair. The baby began whining, in need of a solid burp. She wiped Zephyrina's face with a small towel, placed the towel over her own shoulder, laid the baby on it, and patted her back gently. "Her. Send guards to take her."
"She needs a wet nurse... and the guards are not necessarily willing to approach Bridlewood. They don't want their brains melted. It's been generations since we sent an infant there."
Zephyrina burped and a tiny warm splash wet the towel on Haven's shoulder. She pulled her baby down and and cradled her, rocking her. Zephyrina's eyes blinked and she smiled up at Haven. Haven smiled down at her as Zephyrina fell back asleep. "Get somepony else. Have the guards carry a few bottles of formula. Wet nursing is something best left in the ancient past." Haven frowned. "When was the last time a pegasus infant was brought here?"
"When I was her age," the King said, pointing a feather at Zephyrina. "More or less. I checked the records just before coming to speak to you. He was adopted and raised as one of our own, never knowing his origin. I can't even tell if he was brought by unicorns or earth ponies, that record is lost, and my father, who received the infant... well, we can no longer ask him. The infant is now a firefighter with the South Heights battalion. I gave him a medal for valor eleven years ago; I had no idea, at that time, who he was."
The bundle began to whine and fuss. "She's hungry," said the King. "Can we trade?"
"I'm not nursing a—a unicorn!"
The King looked at her. "I'm not going to force you, of course. And if you refuse to take her, then yes, I'll send a squad of guards. But I have a question for you."
Haven continued rocking Zephyrina. The baby's body went limp as she fell into a deep, milk-stupor sleep.
"Yes, Father?"
"Are our subjects here to serve us, or are we here to serve them? Is this not the most vulnerable of all our subjects, in need of more of our care than any other right now? She can't have a life in Zephyr Heights. Imagine her first day of kindergarten."
Haven closed her eyes and winced.
"If she's to have a chance at a life, any sort of life worth living, she has to be taken to Bridlewood. Yes, we hate and fear unicorns; but do we wish them misery, or do we wish them merely to leave us be?"
Haven rolled her chair to the couch and traded little Zephyrina to her father for the unicorn infant. The horn was stubby, tiny, barely projecting from a mat of blue mane, her fur a soft purple.
The baby smiled up at Haven. Haven smiled back. "Y-you'll take care of my little Zephyrina while I'm gone?"
"Your mother and I will be delighted."
"The unicorns... they'll accept her? I won't have to haul her all the way back?"
Her father frowned. "It's been generations since the last one. I suppose we have to hope they remember the old agreement, too. And... that's why I want to send you. As Crown Princess, you can act as my plenipotentiary, in case negotiations are required."
"What if they melt my brain?"
"Then Little Zipp becomes Crown Princess."
"Zephyrina." Haven rocked the unicorn infant. "Very well. Your Crown Princess will see you safely to Bridlewood."
Only three guards had volunteered to accompany Haven. Lightning Crash and Sleek Wings tossed logs onto the campfire while Zoom Zephyrwings marched a circuit around the perimeter of their campsite.
Haven rocked the unicorn infant, who lolled sleepily, having just finished nursing. Hopefully her full belly would let them all get some sleep before they started their trek again in the morning. Although not as loud as Zephyrina, the unicorn was still capable of decibel levels that seemed supernatural from such tiny lungs.
"How are you holding up, Highness?" Zoom asked.
"I'm sore," Haven replied. She had walked at least fifteen hours that day, the four of them using every moment of the summer daylight, and she was only three weeks postpartum. Of course she was sore. She was, not to put too fine a point on it, miserable.
"Yes, ma'am."
Zoom, of course, was even younger than Haven and not a mother herself. It was hardly her fault she didn't understand. Haven's torso still felt like she'd belly-flopped two stories onto a marble floor.
Lightning Crash arranged the last log on the fire and then turned to them. "Highness, looking at the map, we should arrive tomorrow."
Haven grunted.
"Eat, Highness," Lightning said, passing an opened ration pack to Haven, along with two canteens. "You're eating for two, ma'am."
Haven choked down the glutinous rations, some sort of hayspam and peaches in 'juice'. The water in the canteen, however, was clean and cool, and tasted positively divine. She'd never been so thirsty in her life as she had the last few weeks. Which, she supposed, made perfect sense.
After hoofing her canteens back to the trooper, she laid down on her side and flipped a wing over the bundled infant.
The infant squinched her eyes in her sleep, furrowing her eyebrows, just like little Zephyrina did.
Haven smiled, and touched her nose to the infant's, for just a moment, before closing her own eyes and letting the exhaustion of the day wash over her.
"Tomorrow," she said, "Bridlewood."
"Dang," said Zoom Zephyrwings, looking at the gap in the bridge.
"That must be new," Haven mused aloud. "No moss on the northern face. No river slime yet on
the debris in the gulch below us. The bridge must have fallen in the last few weeks."
"Yes, ma'am," said the three guards.
Haven pulled a canteen from a bag and took a drink.
"Highness?" said Zoom. "Can you fly up and take a bird's-eye view? See if there are any fords or bridges?"
Haven's face stayed very neutral. Lightning Crash was in on the secret, but Zoom and Sleek Wings still thought the Royal family could fly. "I can't," she said after a moment. "My muscles are still too torn up from the delivery."
"Oh," Zoom said. "What now?"
Haven looked east.
Haven looked west.
Haven looked east.
Haven started walking west. The infant burbled happily in the carrier on Haven's chest.
"It's... can you get that far, ma'am?" Lightning Crash asked.
Haven evaluated the situation. The gulch narrowed to just a little more than a pony-leap width, although the drop—should one fall—was a killing height, the riverbed strewn with sharp rocks far below.
But the far side was a good pony-height lower than their side, and large trees dotted both sides. Haven cocked her head, looking up. "Yes... yes. I climb that tree, leap and glide across, and then you throw me one of the ropes. Tie it around a rock and throw. I can secure the rope to a tree on the far side, and you three can then zipline across."
"The throw won't be easy, Highness," Zoom said, raising a hoof. "Can you carry the rope over?"
Haven hmmmmmed in the back of her throat. In principle, yes. In practice, if the rope got hung up, the jerking stop could easily kill her by dropping her into the ravine. "Arrange the rope into a loose coil. Don't tie it on this side. Better to lose the rope than plunge me into the gulch."
They coiled the rope at the edge of the ravine, just under a tree. Haven gave the infant, in her carrier, to Zoom. Zoom made goofy faces and the infant clapped and giggled.
Lightning and Sleek Wings pushed on Haven's butt as Haven hauled with her forelegs until she was standing, unsteadily, on a thick branch.
Dizziness gripped her. She shook her head. No matter how much she drank, her head still a little fuzzy, always at least a little dehydrated. The morning's rations soured in her belly and the effort of holding her balance sent bolts of pain through her lower body. One didn't realize how much one used their abdominals until one's abdominals were damaged. Zephyrina's huge head had torn Haven up rather badly, and the muscles across her back and belly were still strained from the pushing.
She spread her wings. She could no more fly than the others, the magic having been gone for generations, but she did have quite a lot of practice flitting around on the wires. Her flight muscles and balance were probably better developed than anypony else's in Zephyr Heights. If anypony could do this, it was her. "Oh-okay, the rope."
She leaned down as Zoom stood on Lightning's back, the end of the rope in her mouth. Haven bit it. The others retreated, away from the coil so that they could not accidentally foul it while it unspooled.
Haven spread her wings and closed her eyes. She perked her ears forward, feeling the breeze ruffle the fine hairs inside her ears. It was coming from her front-left. She would leap hard and angle that direction, using the breeze to give a little extra lift.
"You ready, Highness?" called Lightning.
Haven opened her eyes and leapt.
Her instincts, still not suppressed by generations of flightlessness, screamed at her to flap. She fought that instinct: flapping was death, here. She left her wings wide and stiff, trading altitude for speed, with a slight anhedral and cambered upward, primaries spread wide, and crossed the gulch, the rushing water and killing rocks a blur far below. In what seemed like both an instant and a lifetime she was over the gulch and above the grass of the far side and suddenly down, chest-first, legs splayed, sliding to an inelegant and very non-royal stop. A long furrow in the dew-soaked grass marked her landing.
The rope was still gripped in her teeth. She stood, shakily, and looked at the others. They were already knotting the rope to a tree branch on their side.
Haven realized she didn't know any knots—being raised Crown Princess resulted in large amounts of schooling, but mostly politics and macroeconomics. Not... knot tying. She wrapped her end of the rope six times around a branch, then around her foreleg, and braced herself, holding it tight. "Okay," she shouted. "Lightning Crash first."
Lightning grabbed all four legs around the rope, hanging upside down, and inchwormed across. She stared at Haven, never looking into the drop 'above' her. The tree branch creaked with her every movement, but it held.
Haven held tight, leaning back against the rope, but the half-dozen loops around the tree held easily. Soon, Lightning stood next to her.
"Take the rope," Haven said, loudly enough to be heard on the far side. "I'm going across to get the infant myself."
"Ma'am, that's not necessary," Zoom called. "I can carry her."
"I command it." Haven hopped and wrapped her legs around the rope. Shimmying up the slope—probably twenty degrees—wasn't any fun, and she was sweating and panting by the time she reached the top, the muscle soreness across her abdomen feeling as bad as an abscessed tooth, but she made it.
"Hi," Haven said. "Did you miss me?"
The infant burbled and whined.
"Hungry? Well, we're about to be upside-down, so let's feed you on the far side." Haven hopped back to the rope, once again hanging upside-down but now facing down-slope, and Zoom and Sleek Wings strapped the carrier to her chest again, but upside down so that gravity held the infant in, facing up.
Tiny hooves clapped happily.
"Your Crown Princess will keep you safe," Haven said, and the words tasted like ash in her mouth, for she didn't know if they were true.
Haven shimmied back down the rope. When over the gulch, she looked down—'up', given her perspective—and her brain froze momentarily. The infant squirmed and, even with her tied securely in the carrier, Haven felt a gut-wrenching terror at the thought of dropping her.
She flapped twice, forcing herself to zip down the rope, accepting the rope burns where her legs wrapped around it. Once she was safely on the other side, Lightning unbuckled the infant's carrier. Haven dropped to her hooves and nursed the infant while the other two guards crossed.
With the baby fed and drowsy, they started backtracking all the miles east to the road they needed, at the fallen bridge.
Haven found her pace slackening, everything below her wings stiff from the exertions. They camped early, under a tall tree. A full day behind schedule, Haven groused to herself as she fell asleep, the infant tucked closely to her ribs, under her wing.
They started off again at dawn.
"I'm having second thoughts, Highness," said Sleek Wings.
"As am I," Haven replied, staring at the point where the road entered the woods. Signs covered, absolutely covered, the trees around the road. Go Away signs. Skull and crossbones, skull and wings. No pegasi and No earth pony symbols. "But our duty is clear."
"This is the place, all right," Zoom observed.
"How do we, uh..." Lightning Crash started before trailing off.
Haven cupped her wings around her mouth and shouted: "Unicorns! We need to speak to your king or queen! Now! ...please."
Every five minutes, Haven took another few steps forward and shouted it again. An hour after Haven had started shouting, she and her escort about fifty pony-lengths into the forest, a clutch of six unicorns approached.
"We don't have a king or queen," said the one in the middle, a middle-aged mare with tinted glasses and a short tightly-curled mane, just turning gray. "Get out of our forest."
Haven stiffened her spine, standing up as tall as she could, ignoring the hideous pains that ran down her back and around her belly. She forced her wings to clamp tight to her flanks; the various 'no wings' signs on the entrance to the forest made clear the unicorns' opinion there. "We must parley, then we will leave."
The middle unicorn glared over the tops of her glasses. "Who are you to make demands?"
Haven raised her nose and looked down on them, as haughtily as possible—which, for a Crown Princess educated in Court from birth, was very haughty indeed—at the unicorns. "I am Her Royal Highness, Haven Cloudbank, Crown Princess of Zephyr Heights, Heiress to the Ancient and Hallowed Throne of the Pegasi, and I carry the authority of my father, the King, as his plenipotentiary, to hold negotiations with you."
"Those are some fancy words," said a huge unicorn stallion, thickset and gray-colored, "but 'my father, the King,' are the four that seem to actually matter."
"Indeed," Haven replied.
"And only three guards," mused the stallion. "What's the ransom on a Crown Princess?"
"Zero," Haven said. "We would not negotiate under duress, and my daughter would take my place in the succession."
"Pity," said the stallion.
"You see we're unarmed," Haven said, gesturing a wing at Zoom. "Because I wish to show the good faith of my visit."
"Fine, talk," said the mare in glasses.
"May I have your names?" Haven asked.
"Alphabittle," said the huge stallion.
"No," growled the mare.
Haven lowered her nose, deliberately trying to tone down the haughtiness. They weren't apparently going to call her highness or princess but that didn't really matter, did it? What mattered was the infant. "The pegasi of Zephyr Heights remember the Old Agreement. Do you?"
The unicorns looked at each other, faces puzzled.
"What agreement?" Alphabittle finally said.
Haven turned and pulled the blanket off Zoom's back, then reached up and took the infant from the carrier. "Whoo!" Haven said. "Somepony needs a clean nappy."
The unicorns broke into angry shouts and muttering. Alphabittle snarled, "Foalnappers!"
"Not at all," Haven said. "She was born in Zephyr Heights, to two pegasi. The parents disowned her and gave her to the Royal Palace for safekeeping."
"That's even worse," Alphabittle said. "Parents disown a baby for having a horn?"
The infant burbled and waved her forehooves at Haven. Haven smiled down at her and lowered her head, allowing the baby to grab her nose between her hooves. "Oh, don't be dramatic," Haven said. "What would unicorns think of a pegasus birth?"
The unicorns were silent for a few seconds. "Nothing... good..." said the mare in glasses.
"You would carry him to Zephyr Heights, and we would take him in and raise him as one of ours, with love and kindness, never knowing his origin. Our records show that has happened." A lie, Haven knew; they didn't know if the infant her father had spoken of had been born to earth ponies or unicorns. But that was just a tiny detail. A white lie. After all, every time she took to the wires and flew, she was telling a giant, festering, black-to-the-pits-of-Tartarus lie to her own ponies. What was this compared to that?
Alphabittle stepped forward and held out a foreleg. Haven passed the infant over.
Bright eyes widened, staring up at Alphabittle, locking onto his horn. Tiny hooves clapped and a tiny voice giggled.
"Whoo, she does need a clean nappy," Alphabittle said. "But she's beautiful."
Haven took two steps backwards, towards the exit to the forest. Alphabittle stepped backwards and rejoined the clutch of unicorns. The older mare craned her neck and smiled, her grim face momentarily beatific as the infant's beauty warmed everything around her.
"Chrysoberyl and Yellowcake," the old mare said.
"I'm sorry?" asked Haven.
"A couple, a married couple. Their son died and... they're getting older. They've been unable to have another foal. They'll treasure... her?"
"Her," Haven confirmed.
"What's her name?" Alphabittle asked.
"We leave that to you. To her ponies. May... may I tell her goodbye?"
The old mare glared at Haven, then nodded. Haven approached, blinking back a tear, stepping close to the clutch of unicorns, and brushed the infant's cheek with a wing. "I'll miss you," she whispered, "but you can have a good life here."
Haven retreated and the three guards formed a defensive triangle around here.
"Can I ask a question?" Haven said.
The unicorns glared at her.
"The stone bridge is out. We went west and crossed at a narrows. Is there an easier way to cross the river?"
The old mare glared. "Why didn't you just fly across?"
"I'm... injured," Haven said. "Some pulled muscles."
The unicorns looked at each other, faces suspicious.
"Go east," Alphabittle said. "There's a shallow ford about two hours hike eastward of the bridge. If it rains the ford is death, surging rapids, but it's been dry for weeks. It should be safe enough."
Much easier than the rope across the ravine, Haven thought. I'll remember that if I ever come back here.
"Thank you. Good day. And... love her, for me?"
"Who can't love an infant?" said the old mare.
Haven nodded to her guards, turned, and left the forest.
