A Description of a Room in the Canterlot Archives

by Steel Hoof

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1111

This room gathers dust, nearly undisturbed since the castle's construction. The princesses appear to have no interest in its contents: a painting, a seat, and a set of unusable masonry.

In the Royal Canterlot Archives, every scrap of Equestrian history is recorded, often with artifacts present as evidence. There are grimoirs and cookbooks, and there are swords and ploughshares. Many items are harmless (provided one is not allergic to dust mites), but those that are remain under lock and key. The first diarchy saw the creation of masterworks of stone, steel, and magic. The Royal Everfree Archaeologists unearthed countless powerful sources of magic from ages past. Some magic is older still.

Published 2013-08-26 03:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-08-26 03:50:02 UTC

A quiet corner of the castle

Deep in the castle archives, behind a rusted lock and a door of ancient oak slowly mouldering in the humidity that is part and parcel of placing a palace atop a natural spring, waits a massive shape wrapped loosely in a canvas which seems to have fossilized around it. The chill of the room is a shade more than any other part in the castle, leading the occasional chef to request that the wine and other perishables be moved there from the springhouse. These requests are rejected quietly and without incident.

A century has passed since a set of tiles were recovered from the ancient castle which lies at the heart of the Everfree forest, each bearing one or more hoofprints. Granite or marble, slate or ceramic, all are marked as though they were soft clay when the prints were impressed upon them. They lie stacked neatly in a corner of the room.

The darkly varnished planks of the floor do not creak when stepped on, and the sounds of the rest of the castle are barely audible this deep inside the archives.

The canvas, when turned over and laid flat, depicts scenes in autumn done in bright pigments and what appear to be gold threads. Perspective was clearly not in the forefront of the artist's mind, the subjects being seemingly stacked on top of one another so that they are all visible. On the green commons of a village in the foreground, earthponies stamp the red and gold leaves at their feet as they caper merrily around a pole held aloft in the magical grip of unicorns as pegasi slowly wind the pole in strips of spun gold and silver. Above this scene, two stallions wrestle in a gravel ring as ponies garbed in the garish attire of lords and ladies look on, smiling and laughing. The courtyard in which this scene is taking place is has its front gate unbarred and unguarded. The inside of the castle's keep, made visible as though the artist had peeled back the wall facing the viewer, is bustling with chefs, liveried servants, and fillies-in-waiting. At least two cooks are dancing in their aprons, their kitchens momentarily forgotten. High above this scene, two alicorns preside over a court filled to bursting with ponies who, incongruously, face the viewer that they might be recognized while simultaneously staring in rapture at the diarchs. The artist took pains to ensure that the distinguishing features of the onlookers were rendered in detail. It's possible that they were alive when this was painted.

The light-coated alicorn, with a mane and tail the color of a lover's blush, sits atop her golden throne with a regal air. The throne is set with gems of every size and color upon the high back, and upholstered in red velvet, with an ermine cape flung over one arm. Her head is slightly tilted to listen to an aide beside her, but her eyes are cast downward at a stallion with a long, pointed goatee who approaches the front of the hall bearing a bouquet of roses. His garb is plain: a simple vest, though clean, and a pair of pruning shears at his side. The ponies standing next to him are covering their mouths to hide amused grins.

The dark-coated alicorn, with a mane and tail the color of the deepest pools, seems to lounge despite keeping roughly the same pose as her sister. Her seat is carved from ebony in the shapes of fanciful beasts and gargoyles, with silver accents. Bats feature prominently. Closer examination would reveal that the onlookers have their eyes turned more towards her sister. Those standing closest to her chair appear to frown as though perturbed. It is perhaps understandable, due to the presence of a three-headed dog which lies curled under the seat. It has a blue bow tied to its collar.

The top of the canvas is dominated by an expanse of ultramarine, the soft gradients capturing the range of colors in the noonday sky. This much ultramarine may have cost as much as the canvas, the paints, the artist, and the house he was living in. In place of a golden sun shining down over the collection of scenes, there is only a ragged hole in the canvas. In its current position, the hole would reveal a metallic glint from the hulking object it covers.

To draw the canvas away would disturb countless generations of cobwebs, revealing a silver chair untouched by tarnish. To use the word 'chair' would elevate the status of living room furniture unduly and to the same degree that it demeans the word 'throne.'

It seems to have been carved and sculpted, rather than constructed from separate pieces. The back sweeps up and tapers to a single point which would end above the head of a pony seated there. The arms and sides are cut such that their solid, straight lines meld seamlessly with the rest of the chair's shallow crescent. Down flow the curves of the four wide, squat legs ending in feet which themselves would belong to four different beasts entirely. The overall shape of the silhouette speaks unpleasantly of a single, massive claw or fang, with just enough material missing to make it serve as a seat.

At proximity it becomes clear that the dimensions of the chair's owner exceeded that of a normal pony by half again or more. The combination of smooth curves and hard planes in the chair reflect the light oddly, now and again throwing the light in curious shapes and splotches upon the walls. Perhaps due to the shape of the legs, the space beneath the chair always remains in darkness regardless of most attempts to illuminate it, as it has for centuries. By daylight the shadow is dispelled, though the ponies still living who can remember the last time that occurred may be counted on a single hoof.

Across the back there is an inscription, though the flowing script is difficult to read without physically climbing into the seat. In the language ponies used before pictograms, it reads:

Once this chair was claimed, the queen was anointed.
Twice this chair is claimed, the crown is split asunder.
Thrice this chair will be claimed, and sun and moon will grow dark in the skies.

The seat awaits its owner as it always has, chill and silent as the night.

Author's Note

I was inspired by Cold in Gardez and Amit to write a story with no characters, plot or setting except for the one room. It was harder than I thought it would be.