Heart Of Light And Sorrow

"Awaken, son of the light, and rise."

Morrigan gasped as he startled awake. Pain... There was none. He glanced down, surprised to see armor was gone. But a single scar remained on his bare chest, thin and hardly visible. It was an old wound to him, now. Any weariness was gone, all fatigue wiped away by some unknown healer. "W-what..."

"Ah... Awake at last, I see." Morrigan stood quickly, alarmed to see where he was - the throne room. He had been on the throne, feeling chilled by the cold metal. And, yet, a strange, foreign warmth filled him. He looked toward the voice that had spoken and received another shock.

The king stood at the frost covered window, his hoof supporting him against the wall. His mane was as white as the icy snow that flurried to the earth. His eyes were tired, aged to the soul. He was a frail old man. Morrigan felt a brief surge of sympathy for the king.

"Why hath thou brought me here?"

"Because the day hath finally come," the king rasped, "for my throne to topple... That is why thou art here, why blood colors the castle fields..."

Morrigan walked up behind the king. "Yes, it is. Thou hath left thy people abandoned. A new ruler must rise."

The king was silent for a long while. He sighed, his breath forming a cloud of exhaustion in the frigid air. "What know thee... of legends and myths, Sir Knight?"

Morrigan's eyes narrowed. If he had not been stripped of his weapon, the man before him would be dead at his hooves now. All this battling would finally be over. A true and honorable king would take the throne. Yet now he had to play along wih the fool. "My mother was found of legends... My very name derives from such a fiction."

"I see... Tell me. Hath thy mother perhaps told thee of the ancients? The protectors of that... which created this earth?"

Morrigan turned his head slightly, glancing at the pictures depicted by the stained glass around him. Two stallions, both young and foolish. One the color of fire. One the embodiment of light and ice. "I think I've a faint idea..."

“Yet the full tale remains a mystery… Many ponies know not of the true story of our kingdom, and how all of this has come to be... How all of this has always been set in stone.” The king sighed softly, gently shifting his hoof to the floor. “In the past, 2 protectors were created by the world to protect the flame that burned the world into existence... That flame created all beings of magic in this land…”

Morrigan watched the stained glass as the king told his tale. “As time passed, the light protector... created to destroy shadows that threatened the flames... grew tired of his thankless job. He had power, and thought himself righteous... enough to be lord of the lands where he stayed. In his greed, he saw not the shadows that clung to his own heart."

Morrigan glanced at the king. "But one day, the protector of the flame died. The light protector snapped out of his madness, but for seeming moments in his long life time... Yet shadows tried to make him forget. To remember his friend, the light protector shielded himself away in his throne room, surrounding himself in memories of the stallion he called brother."

“And so… I left my ponies abandoned,” the king whispered, before a racking cough took it’s toll on him.

“Thou… Thou art the Light protector?”

Clearing his throat weakly, the king nodded. “Though not for much longer… The tale does not end with me, for the world still clings to the flame…”

“How? The protector of the Flame died.”

“Yet another was born in his place.” Morrigan’s eyes widened. “Another born to carry the burden… I have yet to find that pony…” The king turned softly, slowly, drifting tiredly around. “But the universe knows when my time has come - and I believe it came long ago…”

Morrigan took a step back, suddenly his bravado having faded. “Dost thou welcome death… Light Protector?”

“I do… But for thy sake, hear the rest of my tale….”

“What more is there to say?” Morrigan glared at him, his heart welling up with rage. “Thou hath abandoned not only thy duty as king, but of a child of the earth! Untold power, and thou wished for more?”

“I was a greedy fool, knight! Thou must understand!”

“All I understand is that thou were correct - Thy reign comes to an end, today.”

The king sighed, exhausted. He whispered, just loud enough for Morrigan to hear, “he is so headstrong - how can he be the one?”

“How can I be what?”

The king looked up at him. Closed his eyes lightly. Like an ember of the flame he had half forgotten, the king’s horn sparked to life, however weak the aura seemed. Slowly, the sword by his side rose from its scabbard. Morrigan’s eyes widened as he saw the orb that adorned the grip - Purely white, splendid in it’s glory. “Ready to become the protector.”

“W-what?” Morrigan stepped back further, his eyes stuck on the light orb. “Thou art the protector. To live this long, thou must be immortal.”

“Not to the one blade that defeats shadow.” Morrigan turned to look quickly at the king, his mind starting to work too fast for his comprehension. "Take up the sword and fulfill thy birthright."

"I-I do not understand," Morrigan stated, shaking his head.

"Then pay attention," the king said angrily. "Thou canst deny thy duty to the world as I have; the world cannot survive another life time of ice and darkness!"

"W-why is this my duty?! Why must I sacrifice the rest of my life for the cause thou abandoned?!"

"Because thou art better than I! Relieve thyself of thy earthly teather and rise, son of the light."

Morrigan shut his eyes tightly. Everything in his life couldn't be meant for such great a task. He was just another warrior, just another stallion. Why him? Why had the universe chosen his life to ruin for eternity?! "No," he shouted, slamming his hoof against the crystal floor. "I'll not be slave to destiny!"

"Thou can not shirk this du -" Suddenly, the king began to cough, his aura faultering with his lungs. Morrigan started slightly as the king collapsed to one hoof, blood staining his pale lips. The sword he had held clattered to the floor as the kings magic fled him.

Morrigan watched as the king struggled, trying to rise again. He was in pain; that much was obvious. He felt yet another surge of sympathy, nearly leaning down to help him. But...

"Thou art dying, art thou not?"

The king looked up at him with tear filled eyes from the painful coughs. "Thou.. Would do me a kindness... To take this burden from my back..."

"But to kill the king... Kill the very creation of the earth and gods..."

"That hath n'er... Stopped thee... Before..." The king chuckled softly. "So much... Hatred... Take up the sword, child... For my sake… as well as yours.."

Morrigan shut his eyes, sighing. He could leave. He could just let this poor fool rot away on his icy throne. Return to his wife, his soon to be born child. Just forget about this madness.

And forget all those who died?...

...Or he could kill him himself, and take up a Hero's burden…

Morrigan opened his eyes, stone cold hardness filling them. Slowly, yet confident in his decision, he moved toward the sword. The orb’s ivory glow only strengthened as he neared. It was almost as though it were excited to see him. He picked up the sword and was instantly surprised: it was light as a feather and perfectly balanced.

He heard another cough behind him. He turned to see the king, crippled on the floor, gazing up at him with weary, timeless eyes. “Please,” he whispered, begged as though he were another casualty pleading for his life - yet now he pleaded for death - as Morrigan stepped closer. The king smiled thinly as he bent his head down, kneeling before Morrigan. “Do it, knight… Purge the shadow in me… and let me rest at last…”

Morrigan raised the strange sword with ease, yet still he felt the need to raise it with both hooves, standing on his back two. Time seemed to freeze for a moment more, burning that memory into his mind as one he would n’er forget - the ruler of them all bowing to him as he prepared to deal the final blow. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to ignore it. Yet he still needed to do something. Anything.

And he saw only one option now.

“I give thee mercy, light protector… N’er will I forgive thee… Yet I hope thou rest peacefully in the arms of the gods.”

Swiftly, cleanly, the sword went down. No screaming was heard, no painful howls of a man who was slain; all there was in the throne room was silence.

Morrigan turned quickly away from the body, his head returning to that now familiar dizziness that had claimed him on the battlefield. He gasped in pain as the throne room swelled with sound - or was it only him, was he only going mad? He felt tears rise to his eyes as some sort of power or dream took him over. He heard… music. Some sort of song, a hurrah of the people, yet with sorrow….

Lulay, o sir knight

Our sorrow for thee

Can n'er be matched as your own...

For flame be reborn

But Light be as well...

Lulay, good knight, take the throne..

He stumbled toward the throne, gasping in pain at his every movement. Something was changing. Why? Why him? Why had the universe chosen him for this burden?!

Opening his eyes, he saw only white. Only the light of the protector, filling him, making him the man he had been born to be. In a fitful cry, he collapsed on the throne, unconsciousness claiming him for the second time that day.