Myths and Birthrights: The Archive

Myths and Birthrights

By Tundara

Part Two: Tremors in the East

Chapter Fourteen: The Fall

Trixie was at a crossroads. Not a metaphorical one —though it could have been thought of that as well— but a real, honest, meeting and crossing of roads.

The showmare sat there in the middle of the road with tall pines shading her as she pondered which of the paths to take.

To her right, down a well travelled and paved lane, broad enough for wagons and coaches to pass each other without either going into the ditch, lay Canterlot. Along the way was also Cantershire, Canterville, Clopsdale, and Ponyville.

It was the belly of the proverbial beast. Where the greatest threat to Trixie lay. The Princesses’ home, the Royal Province. If they discovered Shyara they’d whisk the filly away and hide her behind the palace walls.

Trixie knew this fear was silly. After all, that frustrating Twilight Sparkle hadn’t been kept hidden and secluded, cloistered away from regular ponies. No, she’d been raised among unicorns. Nobility, sure, but a far cry from the sheltered life, almost prison, that Trixie feared would happen to Shyara.

A smile cracked along Trixie’s dry lips, the pre-summer wind having a cruel, hot cut to it this year, as the thought struck her. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but the not-so-young filly had found that special place that existed in all mares’ hearts. There was nothing, Trixie knew, she wouldn’t do or risk for Shyara.

Part of her wondered if this bond was some trick, a spell cast by alicorn foals as a sort of protection. Trixie had read of beings capable of such tricks and the alicorns did have their foals raised by other herds. The idea wasn’t completely preposterous. The effects of just being near Cadence were well documented. The overwhelming love that would bloom in even the most bitter hearts. It was possible the filly was having a similar effect on Trixie.

Out of the corner of her eye, Trixie was watching as the disguised alicorn played in a small field next to the road, scampering and chasing a group of rabbits.

It didn’t matter, Trixie decided with a smile as delicate as the petals of a flower. Trixie didn’t care if the desire to protect the filly was some magic playing with her senses or not. She was just glad that Shyara was escaping her shell and returning to the inquisitive filly Trixie had found.

In the weeks following the attack in Vanhoover, Shyara had retreated into herself, reminding Trixie of her own fillyhood. She had been so quiet, withdrawn, and timid. The exact opposite of the adult Trixie, the real Trixie. Crowds had the greatest effect on Shyara. While she’d still greet the lone pony with something of her old exuberance, the filly would vanish if more than a couple other ponies were around. It had been hard for the showmare to see Shyara hide herself away in the wagon whenever they passed through a town or village. She wouldn’t even come out to help with the shows. This, Trixie found, had hurt the worst and been most troubling.

Shyara, before Vanhoover, had loved to take part, to play the role of assistant or volunteer from the crowd. Her little face would glow as she used the vanishing cabinet to disappear, or Trixie sawed her in half, or any of the other optical illusions the duo performed. Those had been a good few weeks, filled with warm smiles, laughter, and bits from delighted crowds.

Since then, Trixie had to fall back on her old routines, and heavier use of real magic, as she had done in the old days before the disaster in Ponyville. Trixie missed the shows with Shyara. Somehow, even though they involved far less spells and more trickery, they had been purer, more right. She hoped that maybe, in the next town or village, Shyara would come out of her shell and once again to the stage, where she belonged.

The filly had a natural talent with showmareship. Dazzling the crowd while keeping secrets firmly hidden up her sleeves, or under her hat. Trixie would have believed that her daughter was destined for a show-magic Mark, if not for the whole Alicorn thing. A Goddess of Stage Shows would be a rather sad domain to possess when everypony else had such grand themes as the Sun, Moon, Stars, Love, Fate, or Life.

Turning her attention back to the road and, more importantly, the fork, Trixie looked to the left.

Down that path lay the Crystal City, and the various, and many, towns before the city-state. With summer fast approaching, the Crystal Fair would be on the horizon. Trixie’s traveling magic and illusion show would be perfect for the fair.

If it weren’t for Princess Cadence.

Not only would she be in the city for the annual meeting of it’s House of Dames, but she opened the fair as the host, visiting each act. Any other time, Trixie would have been dancing on the tips of her hooves at a chance to meet the Princess. Having her stop to watch a show was a great honour and a sign of having ‘made it’ as a performer. But Trixie had to think of Shyara.

Trixie turned to look at the gambolling filly, and sighed.

They could always turn around and head the way they came. Or take the fourth option and continue ahead —into the heavily populated eastern regions— and where the Celestial Arbiters were thickest.

Assuming she wanted to follow any of the roads at all. She could always just move her wagon to the side and set it up as home. It was a nice area. Woods to the south, pleasant, rolling green hills, and the very tips of a few mountains could be discerned in the north. There was a town, called Passiondale, a few hours travel back the way Trixie had come where she could shop. She certainly had the bits to settle down.

The mere thought, however, left her legs aching and her horn itchy.

So, Trixie considered the crossroads for the hundredth time.

“Trixie, I’m hungry,” Shyara said right behind the showmare, making her jump with a shriek.

“Shy,” Trixie huffed, clutching at her chest, “how many times must Trixie tell you not to do that?”

Putting on an air of false sincerity, Shyara muttered, “I’m sorry.” Barely pausing, she then added, “but we haven’t had anything to eat since the sun came up.”

“You could graze,” Trixie suggested, even as she stood to unhitch herself from the wagon.

“Graze? You mean, eat grass... raw? Ew!” The filly punctuated her words with her tongue hanging from her mouth as she made gagging noises.

Giving off a low, huffy laugh, Trixie opened the wagon’s door and poked her head into the small food locker. After a few minutes rooting around, calling out ideas to no response, Trixie stuck her head back out the door, an irritated barb ready. She found that Shyara had vanished. A brow twitching, the barb grew into a snarl as Trixie jumped from the wagon, turned, and found herself almost nose to nose with another mare.

“Oh!” Trixie and the mare cried out at the same time, both back-peddling.

“I’m sorry,” the mare hastily blurted out, raising a dark blue hoof to adjust a white toque with a golden sun emblazoned on the rim. Trixie’s eyes fixated on the toque, ignoring everything else about the mare as her heart caught in her throat.

“N-no, Trixie apologizes,” the showmare responded, trying to put on a calm smile.

From the narrowing of the other mare’s summer-blue eyes and the ever so slight tug at the corner of her mouth, Trixie was confident she was being more transparent than a pane of glass.

“Is there something T-Trixie, ahem, that I can do for you, Arbiter?” Trixie’s forced smile began to crack along with her voice as she fought the urge to look for Shyara.

‘An arbiter, why was there an arbiter on this little back-road?’ The question reverberated through Trixie like the clang of bells in a church. The arbiters always took the larger roads. Maybe this one was alone. So long as the arbiter didn’t notice Shyara, Trixie had a small measure of confidence that she’d be able to wiggle through the encounter.

“Hey!” Shyara’s voice cut through the tension like the prow of a ship, making Trixie’s already strained expression plummet as the colour drain from her face.

Trixie noticed the arbiter’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, darting between Trixie and Shyara, once, twice, before settling on the filly. Crossing her hooves that Shyara was wearing her enchanted vest, Trixie tried to force her heart to start beating again, it having utterly seized at her daughter’s voice. Still wearing the broken smile, Trixie looked down, and saw that yes, Shyara was wearing her vest. The fillies wings hidden by the layers of illusion magic.

For a moment Trixie thought they might just get away safely.

“I’m Shy Spell!” Shyara chirped, holding up a small hoof expectantly.

“That’s a lovely name,” the arbiter responded, giving a sly smile as she took the fillies hoof and gave it a shake. “It’s a shame it isn’t your real one.”

Both Trixie and Shyara gave a dumbfounded look, and then Trixie’s hoof snapped up to her face.

Trixie’s eyes locked on the embroidered toque sitting atop the arbiter’s brow. The faint shine of the golden thread belied its powerful enchantment. Lies rang hollow in an arbiter’s ears and their eyes...

“And a lovely pair of wings,” the arbiter added, “they go well with your horn.”

Shyara’s expectant excitement vanished like the invisible monitor lizards of southern Camelon. Casting a glance over her shoulder she muttered, “Oh, bother.”

“Ma’am, I think we need to have a conversation.” The arbiter’s eyes made it clear this was neither a request nor a suggestion.

Heart finally deciding that it should be working, Trixie felt her broken expression shift into one of cold neutrality. Through her mind flashed over a dozen spells to incapacitate. Trixie felt fairly confident she’d be able to deal with a single arbiter, and an Earth Pony one at that. Their official toques may let them see lies and break illusions, but that was all they did. Useful for holding court and dispensing justice, but not for a fight.

Her thin hope deflated when a large unicorn stallion wearing the white with gold trim armour of the Judicial Guards stormed around the corner of her wagon. It was like looking up at a stone wall, a stone wall of muscle and cold, black eyes.

“Arbiter Precedence, we be late as is for...”

His voice trailed off as he looked from Arbiter Precedence, to Trixie, to Shyara, and then back to Trixie. At once his entire demeanour shifted subtly, shoulders set, horn tilted forward with a slight glow of readied magic tinting the air about it a gentle blue-green, and hooves spread.

Still, Trixie, felt confident she could protect Shyara from the arbiter and judicator.

“Arbiter Precedence, what is the delay?” asked a third voice, hidden by the wagon.

Poking her head around the corner, Trixie saw a total of five Arbiters, with their accompanying Judicators arrayed around them, standing just down the road to the Crystal City.

“It is nothing of immediate concern, Arbiter Swift Annulment, however, I would prefer to see it taken care of sooner rather than later.” Precedence gave her fellow arbiters a slight grimace as if she was being put-out. “I shall have it sorted shortly and there is no reason for the rest of you to be delayed. We’ll catch up in Bridlefalls.”

Arbiter Swift Annulment gave a little shrug, muttered something under his breath, and then began to lead the troop down the road without another word.

“Now then,” Precedence said, her face almost glowing. “How about some tea and we will discuss the matter of the filly, yes?”

A million questions thundering through her head, Trixie gave a numb nod. Turning to fetch her tea and kettle, Trixie was stopped by a hoof on her withers. Looking back she saw, much to her further amazement, the judicator pulling out tiny pieces of furniture from his saddlebags. With a simple little swish of his horn, the toy sized object grew into a small table and pair of benches.

“We’ll need a gold scroll as well, Temperance,” Precedence said sweetly as a kettle was produced along with a cabinet of tea.

“Wow! Neat!” Shyara explained, jumping forward to examine the objects. “A Shrinking Spell twined with a Mass Reduction Spell, right?” the filly asked as she poked and prodded one of the benches.

“Indeed,” Temperance chuckled while pouring a skin of water that had also been shrunken into the kettle. “Makes carrying all the accoutrements of the office a wee bit easy, lassy.”

While the tea came to a boil, Precedence and Trixie sat down. Cheeks flushing, Trixie couldn’t stop her back hooves from jittering and she found it almost impossible to look directly at the other mare. She felt like she was even smaller than Shyara and back in her herds old home again. Pushing the feelings down with a slow, deep breath, Trixie faced her opponent.

As Trixie tried to settle her nerves, Precedence laid the scroll on the table, set an open inkwell beside it, and a quill in the ink. After a moment, the quill floated into the air and hovered beside the scroll, giving of the faint whispers of magic.

“Alright, let’s get this show started.” Precedence licked her lips, then in a more officious tone said, “Arbiter Precedence presiding at the crossroads of Old Wert Road and Golden Bricks Highway. In attendance as Judicator is Temperance Dust.” Returning to her normal voice, she continued, “Now, why don’t we start this with the basics. What are your real names. And please, don’t try to lie again, because,” Precedence pointed to her toque.

As she spoke, the quill leapt forward, darting across the scroll copying everything the arbiter said. It even added after ‘because’, ‘Arbiter Precedence pointed to her toque of office’.

Biting her tongue, Trixie again thought of attacking the arbiter.

It would have been the worst idea she ever had. Worse than challenging the protege of the Goddess of the Sun to a magic duel. Worse than being a blustering blow-hard that drove away paying clients. Worse than spitting in Celestia’s face. Trixie hadn’t done the last one, though she’d heard of a pony who had. What had become of him wasn’t mentioned in the stories.

“Trixie Lulamoon.”

The quill darted over the page again.

“And?”

When no response was forthcoming, Precedence turned to Shyara, the filly with her nose peeking into the judicators saddlebags. Clearing her throat to get Shyara’s attention, Precedence repeated the question.

“Um,” Shyara’s eyes darted from Trixie to her own hooves. She pinched her brows together, shuffling her hooves a few times. Looking up, she asked, “Are you a nice pony?”

Precedence’s features were set and stoney, fully enveloped in her role. Temperance, however, just laughed.

“She’s alright,” the Judicator said, winking out of the corner of his eye as he lifted the tea from the fire.

The barest tremor of a twitch at the corner of an eye, Precedence said, “I’m an Arbiter of Celestia. It means I need to be fair and follow the law.” The stone cracked a little as she added, “But I do try to be a good pony and arbitrate by example.”

“You did send those other ponies away when you didn’t need to,” Shyara hummed, looking along the road the other arbiters had travelled. Turning back to Precedence, she let her eyes drift to the sun symbol on the toque. “She’s not mad at me, is she?”

Precedence lifted an ear. “Who?”

“Celestia.” Shyara began to shrink down, her excitement over the new spells gone. “In Vanhoover, I prayed to all the goddesses I could think of, and she was the only one who answered. But she was all fire and anger. She’s not mad at me, is she? For asking the other goddesses for help first?”

It was Temperance who responded, a deep laugh echoing from the stallion as he poured three cups of tea. Trixie found the laugh somewhat infectious. Not enough to set her giggling like some schoolfilly, but enough to ease a portion of the tension in her back.

“The Lady of the Sun don’t get mad at fillies,” he said, setting the teapot aside and taking a position immediately to Precedence’s right.

“I know a little of the Vanhoover incident,” Precedence mused. “As I recall a shadowfiend had snuck into the park and attacked a group of foals. The princess arrived and destroyed the fiend before anypony could be harmed. She was mad at the fiend for trying to hurt her little ponies.”

Trixie could tell that Precedence was giving an abridged version of her knowledge of the event. The arbiters had to all have been fully briefed on the occurrence and Shyara’s presence, even if they didn’t know her name.

“So... She isn’t mad at me?” Shyara seemed to brighten at the prospect, her silver coat almost beginning to shine.

“There is no reason to believe she is,” Precedence gave a little nod while Temperance smiled.

“Okay, I guess it would be alright for you to know my real name, since your in service to a nice goddess.” Squaring her shoulders and puffing out her little chest, nose thrust into the air, she then proclaimed, “I am Shyara, daughter of the Stars and Lies!”

Whatever reaction she was expecting, most likely instant fawning for her greatness, didn’t happen. Precedence just gave her tongue a soft click as the enchanted quill danced out the filly’s name while Temperance simply lifted a brow.

“I was unaware Princess Twilight had a foal. Thought she was a bit... young for that,” the Judicator chuckled.

Wings flaring, Shyara jumped up, hooves on the table as she leaned towards Temperance and yelled, “that thief is not my mother! My mother is Astraea, the true goddess of the Stars! And when she returns she’ll show that thief-pretender whose stars they are!”

Temperance looked at the small alicorn for a few seconds before tossing his head back and giving a truly roaring chorus of laughter.

“Judicator Temperance, control yourself. That is quite enough,” Precedence snapped, shooting her companion a look that could chill a Frost Wolf.

Muttering an apology, he turned into a statue, face growing impassive like he was one of the palace guards.

Satisfied by the judicator’s compliance, Precedence continued.

“I can see you are speaking the truth,” she said, tapping her hat. “I just have a few more questions for you, Shyara. Just general information. If you don’t want to answer any of them, you don’t have to, okay?”

Hesitating, Shyara gave her consent, shifting a little closer to Trixie as she did.

For the next several minutes Arbiter Precedence asked a series of relatively simple questions. Where was Shyara born? How old was she? Relatives? Was there a relative who could take care of her? Did Shyara feel safe with Trixie? Other than the incident in Vanhoover, had there been any troubles?

Some of the questions made Trixie bristly, but, biting her tongue, she kept quiet. Something told her that the arbiter was trying to decide how to deal with the situation and if Trixie was anything less than composed it would tip away from her favour.

Shyara held less reservations. She dithered about her age, stating ‘older than you’ as her response at first before admitting she was eighty five years old. Precedence barely batted an eye at the response, she’d seem to even anticipate it. When the questions about Shyara’s safety were asked both Trixie and Shyara bristled.

“Trixie’ll have you know Trixie has been an excellent guardian!” The showmare snapped, her patience and silence both at an end. “The Great and Bold Trixie saved her daughter from—”

A raised hoof and a stern glare halted Trixie, tripping her tongue and force her back into silence.

“Miss Trixie, we will have time to talk in a moment.” Precedence’s tone pieced Trixie like an arrow. Once satisfied that Trixie wouldn’t speak out of turn again, Precedence repeated her question.

“I feel perfectly safe with Trixie.” Shyara nodded firmly, her young eyes blazing. “She’s a heroine, with the favour of a Goddess. I couldn’t be safer.”

Accepting the reply, Precedence gave a slight nod, though nothing in her face gave away her own thoughts.

Turning to Trixie she stated, “I’m concerned Miss Lulamoon. Deeply concerned.” Steepling her hooves, Precedence continued, chin tilted at an angle. “You don’t seem like the most suitable guardian for a filly.”

Trixie began to puff up, slowly working her jaw to keep from snarling at the arbiter.

“That said, she seems to trust you and genuinely care for you, and you her. However, that is immaterial. You are not a relative, nor her legal-guardian. It’d be so much simpler if you were,” Precedence sighed, giving her head a shake. “The Princess anticipated this situation, and her directions in this case are clear.”

“What are you going to do?” Trixie asked, trying hard to suppress the quaver in her voice.

A small bead of sweat pricked upon her brow as she waited for the arbiter’s response. Precedence clicked her tongue a few times, muttered to herself, and then produced two scrolls bound together in crimson and gold tape.

“I am not going to do anything more than this; You are required to present yourself to the Daycourt of Canterlot within the next seven dusks. If you have not done so by that time, a warrant will be issued for your arrest under the charge of foalnapping a member of the Royal herd, as dictated by Princess Celestia.”

Trixie, for the second time, felt the blood leave her face.

“A w-week? To Canterlot? From here?!” she sputtered.

“Yes. I’d recommend taking the train from Cantershire.” Precedence gave a little nod.

Precedence broke the tape binding the scrolls, opening them and jotting down a few words. Giving one to Trixie and setting the other aside. Looking at the scroll, Trixie saw it bore her name as well as the arbiters. Packing away the quill and ink, Precedence bound the transcript of their meeting together.

“B-but, what about Trixie’s wagon? It’s all Trixie owns...”

Trixie’s voice trailed off as her mind finally shut down, the metaphorical little workers between her ears throwing their non-existent hooves in the air as they ran about like chickens whose coop was on fire. Her eyes glazed over, her mouth hung open, and her ears drooped.

Barely looking up from the work of tying the scrolls together without magic, Precedence said, “Show the town council your Writ of Summons and they’ll have to look after your possessions while you are in Canterlot.” Hoofing the scrolls to Temperance, she said to the Judicator, “Direct to Her Majesty, Tempy.”

Snapping back to reality just in time to see the scrolls dooming her vanish in a puff of blue-green smoke, Trixie’s heart decided to make up for the beats it had missed earlier, racing away so fast Trixie thought everypony had to hear it. Pressing a hoof to her chest and taking fast, steadying breaths, Trixie gulped down the lukewarm tea as Temperance began to shrink and pack everything up.

Once done, Precedence gave Trixie a warm smile, said, “Thank you for your time, Miss Lulamoon, and may all your days be pleasant and your nights secure.”

The Arbiter and Judicator then set off without another word, leaving a thunderstruck Trixie and perplexed Shyara.

After a few moments, Shyara turned to Trixie and said with an innocent smile, “I think that went well.”

* * *

Afternoon tea: a tradition older than Equestria, and one Celestia thoroughly enjoyed. It was her get-away time from the bickering and squabbling of the Daycourt. Sure, there had been good moments. Two couples had approached her today asking for blessings of health and vitality for their unborn foal.

As always, Celestia didn’t have the heart to tell them such blessings were ineffective. She’d gone through the motions, giving a little smile when she felt the small budding life inside the mares. It made the couples feel better, and that was reward enough.

Still, those encounters could do little to abate the rest of Celestia’s day. She was trying very hard not to think about her mother and go flying off to check up on her. In practical terms, Celestia had spent a far, far, far greater portion of her life without her mother than with her. She’d only been a little over a hundred years old when Faust had vanished. But, despite the centuries of separation, Faust was still her mother.

To placate herself, Celestia had told the sun to watch over the Bellerophon. Sol had protested at first, she’d been watching a herd in Manehatten the past decade, treating their lives and antics like a play, or opera. They certainly lead interesting lives, full of intrigue, double-crossing, and many other sordid affairs. Sol had actually whined when Celestia flat out told her that her obsession with the Oranges of Orange Lane was unhealthy.

The sun whining... it was preposterous!

At least it had proved to be a short distraction. State affairs, however, were not so easily forestalled.

One such state affair sat across from Celestia.

He was a light beige earth pony, his greasy black mane done up in tight curls. The scroll and quill mark on his flank, fairly generic among the civil service or academic world, displayed his talent for navigating bureaucracy.

“Princess, if I may be so bold, but is your sister not going to join us?” the stallion asked in a thick, provincial prench accent.

If Celestia had to guess based on the few words he had said, he’d been born in the area of Bittany, probably near the coast, was educated in a boarding school somewhere near Bordeaux, and had far more ambition than sense.

Keeping her face impassive, Celestia placed a little honey into her tea.

“My sister is a creature of the night,” Celestia said as she lifted her tea to her lips. “She goes to bed as most of us are just getting out of ours. As such, she tends to keep what most consider odd hours. Take Afternoon Tea, for instance. Did you know it began because of my sister? She’d awake in the early afternoon and have what was to her breakfast. Other’s began to join her, and within a decade or two, afternoon tea had become a staple of Equestrian society. True story.”

“That seems unlikely, Princess, since tea didn’t become a staple until three hundred years after your sister’s banishment.” The stallion snorted, dipping a dunking biscuit into his tea.

There was a few minutes of silence as both sat, each waiting for the other to speak again.

“I hope that the change is to your liking, Princess Celestia,” the stallion gave a demure, coy grin. “I know you had a fondness for my predecessor. I had hoped to inform her of the change face to face. It came as a shock, naturally, when I arrived and found Ambassador Fleur off with the newly crowned Princess Twilight.”

“Fleur’s departure was rather sudden,” Celestia conceded with a tilt of her head. “No pony expected her to be swept up in the growing events.”

“Yes, yes, so her attache informed me yesterday.” There was a pause, and then the new ambassador said, “You’ll have to forgive me, your majesty, but why is Prance’s previous ambassador off with the new Princess? The First Consul, in particular, will be very curious. You were, of course, intending to inform them of the impending visit, and the purpose behind it, before the princess and her entourage crossed the borders. It is all very troubling.”

“As for that, Mr. Ferveur, a packet was sent out the same time Princess Twilight set sail carrying news of her impending visit to Prance and the other nations of the Old Kingdoms.”

“Oh,” Ferveur muttered, his eyes growing darker. “So, it is true that she is taking Prance’s ambassador to Equestria to the other nations. The senate will be extremely displeased with this.”

“They shouldn’t,” Celestia responded. “Ambassador Fleur is with my cousin, serving as guide and building the friendship between Prance and Equestria.”

Ferveur clicked his tongue, scrutinizing the calm mask Celestia wore looking for any crack in her impassive armour.

“That doesn’t answer my question. You must have dozens or hundreds of Equestrian citizens that could serve as a guide and aide de campe. Given that Princess Twilight will be visiting Zebrica,” Ferveur gave a dismissive sniff, “Wouldn’t the zebrican doctor living in the Everfree Forest have been the logical first choice of guide? The savages of the central continent are as unknown to Fleur as they are to Princess Twilight.”

Celestia pursed her lips at the venom and undisguised bigotry of the new ambassador.

“Zecora is a good friend. However, she is an exile from her homeland and, were she to return, would be executed. Which I am certain you are aware of.” Celestia sipped her tea, relishing the slightly flustered pinch in Ferveur’s cheek.

“So, you are just going to dance around the real reason the highest ranking citizen of Prance in Equestria went off galavanting across the old world and not minding her duty?”

Setting her tea down with deliberate precision, Celestia took a slow, calming breath before giving the new ambassador a look most only saw moments before their demise.

“We seem to be getting off on the wrong hoof, Mr. Ferveur. There are a few things you would have learned had events played out differently. The first would be—”

In a swish of golden magic, the appearance of a scroll interrupted Celestia. She neither frowned nor smiled at the scrolls appearance, an odd occurrence since Twilight stopped sending Friendship reports. A small part of Celestia wondered and hoped if it was Twilight who had sent the scroll. The red ribbons terminated that hope.

“Excuse me, Ambassador, this is important,” Celestia murmured as she broke the seal and scanned its contents. The new ambassador watched as her face went from the barest hint of concern, to joy, back to concern, only to settle on mildly amused. “Very good,” Celestia hummed, setting the scroll aside. “Now, where were we.”

“You were about to give me a sound drubbing for my impertinence, Princess,” Ferveur chuckled.

“Oh, yes,” Celestia gave a reserved nod. “Well, how about a story, Mr. Ferveur. It will illustrate the point.

“A few hundred years ago I was approached by a wealthy noble. A village on lands he owned had discovered a great deal of copper ore. Enough to make any pony incredibly wealthy. The only problem was the hill was in crown lands. He approached me, naturally, asking for the rights to mine the hill. He gave a great, highly detailed speech where he laid out how it would bring great prosperity to the region. The village would double, then triple in size as miners and ponies servicing the miners arrived; bakers, tailors, and the like. By the nobles estimation the mine would bring ten of thousands of bits into the community. Naturally, a fair amount would end up in the noble’s coffers, but a substantial amount would find its way into other ponies homes. There was enough copper in the hill for the mine to last decades. A great boon to the region.

“I listened to his arguments. Thanked him for making the journey. And rejected his proposal.”

Ferveur lifted a brow. “Your majesty, why would you reject the proposal?”

“Because, through the mine would supply the region for twenty or more years, it would poison the land for three hundred or more. Had I said yes, the region near Detrot would be uninhabitable today. The noble believed he was thinking ahead, and from his perspective he had. My perspective is a bit longer.

“Your present republic, Mr. Ferveur, is a little over two hundred and forty years old. I have seen over one and a half thousand years. I have danced with Prench Emperors. I was courted by a Prime Minister. And Kings have tried to invade Equestria. My herd and I are a center of consistency in an ever changing world, Mr. Ferveur. Now, why don’t—”

For the second time in a half-hour Celestia was interrupted. This time it came in the form of an off-white filly shouting out the Princess’ name.

“Auntie Tia! Auntie Tia!” Tyr called, the filly racing across the garden; her foster mother trailing close behind with a bemused smirk on her face. Skidding to a halt just short of crashing into the table, Tyr gave Celestia the biggest grin she could muster. “I felt it today! I felt it!” she squealed, dancing on the tips of her hooves before letting out a long, joyous laugh.

“You felt what, dear?” Celestia asked, her smile true for the first time that day, carried aloft by the infectious happiness rolling off the filly.

“It! It!” Tyr squeaked, punctuating each word with a little hop.

“Oh, ‘It’, I see,” Celestia gave a sage nod. “But, what is ‘It’, my little pony?”

Tyr stopped mid-bounce, and put a hoof to her chin in deep thought.

“I don’t know!” she finally exclaimed, “but it was there. It was all warm, and soft, and it was like being wrapped in a blanket, and it was there! Waiting for me, and when I find It, It will give me back my wings and lustre! I just know it!”

“Like before?” Celestia pressed.

“No, stronger than ever.” Tyr’s grin could have lit the darkest night. “It was still ephemeral, though. But when I figure out what it actually is and represents I just know that I’ll get my Domain.” Tyr then stopped and pointed at the two scrolls sitting beside Celestia’s tea. “Hey, what are those?”

Bristling a little at the fillies demand, Ambassador Ferveur almost answered for Celestia. Wisely, he snapped his mouth shut at the last moment and dabbed a dunking biscuit into his tea. Celestia, picking up the scroll bound in gold and crimson tape in her magic, passed it to Tyr.

Opening the scroll, Tyr’s not-young eyes scanned the contents quickly.

“It’s a Writ of Summons,” she said after a few moments. “Neat! Wait...” she peered and looked closer at the finely printed words as Celestia watched closely and Cadence arrived at the table. The Goddess of Love gave her aunt a raised brow in question, but didn’t interfere. “It says here that failure to comply will result in a warrant of arrest being issued for... Why would you arrest this Trixie Lulamoon, Auntie Tia?”

Waving a dismissive hoof, Celestia took the scroll back and said, “It’s complicated, but it’s a small fib to make the pony want to come and not run off and hide. She’s completely innocent of the charges, or potential charges.”

Tyr’s jaw dropped for all of a second before she snapped it shut and glared up at Celestia.

“But, that’s wrong!” The filly threw up her hooves. “The Law isn’t something... isn’t something... that...”

Her voice trailing away, Tyr looked off into the middle distance. Setting the scroll aside, Celestia only just managed to hide a smile as Tyr’s coat began to shimmer almost imperceptibly. More telling, the black stitches upon Tyr’s withers where her wings had been, stitches only Celestia, Luna, and Cadence could easily see, took on a golden shine for a half-heartbeat.

Then the shimmer left Tyr’s coat, the stitches returned to their coal black colour, and Tyr shook her head.

“I felt it again!” she exclaimed, dancing on the spot and hugging herself.

With a cackling laugh, Tyr turned and ran off, shouting at the top of her lungs, “Granny Luna! Granny Luna! I felt it today! Twice! Ha-ha!”

As the filly vanished a slightly exasperated Cadence gave her head a shake.

“Was I so oblivious?” she asked rhetorically. Celestia, of course, had no answer, she just smiled her glowing smile.

“I’m sorry, Auntie, she’s been like that since Shiny picked her up from school.” Cadence blew a lock of mane out of her eyes. “Next she’ll probably seek out Great Aunt Iridia, or start shouting from the battlements.”

Giving a little laugh, Celestia said, “It may be best if you caught up with her, then. I’m sure that ‘Granny’ Luna would appreciate the rescue.”

Hesitating, Cadence gave a sly snicker, “Hmmm, well, I suppose so, but I’m not young anymore. Hard for me to keep up with foals, in my old age. Mother may have to fend for herself for several minutes as I catch up.”

* * *

The ocean was calm.

No, it was beyond calm.

There were mirrors less perfect and smooth. Not a breath of wind touched the surface. The rigging hung limp, every stitch of canvas the masts could bear held up in the faint hope that a breeze would emerge and carry the ship even a few yards. According to Hardy’s sightings the previous midnight and noon, they hadn’t moved since the wind died.

Oddly, however, the ship was in mostly good spirits.

The crew still scratched the backstays hoping to conjure a breeze, but it was more out of habit than any real desire. Given precious time for leisure, the crew set about doing the washing, playing cards or jacks, sewing shore going rigs, telling stories, and in general just relaxing. In this they had the greatest of boons in Pinkie.

The Element of Laughter was in prime form as she moved about the ship, poking her head into the gunroom to swap rhymes with Poetic Verse or standing by the ships rail with Timely Crown as he pointed out the various seabirds that would flit around the ship and land on the spars for a rest. In the evening, when the captain and doctor sat in the great cabin playing their fiddle and cello, filling the ship with their intemperate, moderate playing, she would join in with a lilting flute. During the day she bounced about the ship, leaving smiles in her wake.

The same could not be said for Rainbow.

Once again more green than blue, she laid against the mizzen mast, an oft used bucket by her side while she stared up at the empty azure expanse above. If not for the occasional low moan that would echo across the deck, usually accompanied by the sound of retching shortly afterwards, everypony would have worried the pegasus had perished.

A few metres from where Rainbow lay, sat Faust.

The goddess showed more bandage than fur or feather, a few tufts of her mane sticking out from among the off-white wraps. She was propped up by several cushions and had a blanket resting over her flanks hiding the casts on her legs. Eyes glazed over in a laudanum induced haze, she stared at nothing. Every now and then she’d flick an ear, but otherwise she was as a statue. Twilight sat by her aunt, reading or tending to Faust if she so much as made a noise.

When Faust had first been brought out onto the deck two days after the battle, helped along by Twilight, all action on the deck had stopped. The midshipmares lowered their sextants, a poem faltered half formed on Poetic Verse’s tongue, and the Bellerophon shied half a point off the faltering wind until the Master called out, “Mind the helm, there, Celestia damn you!” in a thunderous voice. “You there, back to your post! Belaying Pin, take that mare’s name! Let their majesties have some peace, you bunch of half-witted lubbers!”

Ignoring the ship’s Master, and his blasphemous use of Celestia’s name, Twilight helped Faust to the poop. “Mind the stairs,” “Be careful of the lines,” “Watch out for the roll,” Twilight said, taking to a nervous chewing of her lower lip as she supported Faust’s back half with her magic.

Once Faust was situated, none of the crew had bothered the Queen or Princess. Two Royal Guards kept them at bay, sending frightful glares at any who approached.

It had been that night the wind completely faltered, not to be seen since.

Sitting again the next day, with that mirror-like ocean all around them as far as the eye could see, the princess and her aunt took in the warmth of the sun. Open before Twilight was a book on the workings of the ship; how to sail her, what ropes, lines, tackles, braces, pins, and spars were for what duty, and so on.

Crewmares and officers were constantly finding reasons to go to the stern. Checking the rigging, making sure the backstays were taught, looking for the ship’s cat, every excuse imaginable was dredged up until Hardy took to the deck and suddenly all the gawkers vanished.

On their second day becalmed, as the captain was on his one hundredth turn by the starboard rail, a short, powerfully built crewmare approached Faust. Twilight had noted her watching Faust for some time, sneaking small glances while coiling lines or holystoning the deck. True, most every pony aboard was similar, but the rest had all stopped the moment the master or captain was near. Not her, she continued to make furtive glances, and a few times started to take a step aft, hesitated, then returned to her duties. With a bit more courage, and a few prodding words from her mates, the mare shuffled towards Faust, stopping just short of the guards.

Looking over, Faust gave a slight frown.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering...” the crewmare scuffed her hooves nervously, then blurted out, “my sister, Morning Dew, she is with foal, and... I was hoping, could you tell me her name? The foals, I mean.”

Faust looked surprised by the request, head arching back a little. For a half moment the frown deepened, then it broke into a tuat grin. Waving the crewmare closer, Faust said, “Well, come here, let me have a look at you.”

Hesitating again, the crewmare looked back to her mates, and saw them all giving her a ‘go on’ gesture. Licking her lips, she stepped past the stone faced guards, shying away a little at the calculating turn to their eyes. Standing before Faust, she looked so small.

With her uninjured forehoof, Faust turned the crewmare’s face this way and that, peering into her eyes while she clicked her tongue. Twilight knew Faust was putting on a show and probably had known the crewmare’s relatives and friends from the simplest of glances.

“I see... I see...” Faust stage-whispered, her voice ringing clear across the suddenly still deck. “Your sister means a lot to you, Miss Drops. You were always the strong one, there to look after her. She had Feather Flu young, and it made her prone to sullen silence. Her wings hurt her and were weak, making her an easy target for bullies. A pegasus unable to fly is a poor, dear thing.” Faust clicked her tongue and gave a slow, sad, theatrical shake of her head. “But she had her big sister, a strong, hearty Earth pony; and eventually she had her herd. A stallion and two herd-wives, all whom love and protect her fiercely. A fine family indeed. She is with foal for the first time and worries. She worries that they will be weak like her.”

“They?” Miss Drops asked, eyes widening.

“They,” Faust confirmed, “she is with twins. Identical twins. Extremely rare, indeed.”

Fuast’s eyes then went white, a slight glow flowing over the deck and crewmare. Only Twilight noticed more; feeling like she’d just fallen overboard. She could see and feel Faust expand and contract at the same time. There was something more, something that was just below the surface that emerged around Faust. It was like seeing a presence lurking in the corner of her eye, and when Twilight tried to examine it, it vanished.

“I see them. The elder will be Dew Point, the younger Dew Line.”

The light left Faust’s eyes as she returned to the ship. Whatever it was that Faust had caused vanished, or returned to its natural state. Twilight wondered if it was the Weave she had felt and decided to ask Faust later.

“Dew Point and Dew Line, wow,” Miss Drops said, a goofy grin glowing bright. “Can you tell me what their special talents will be?”

All smiles and humour left Faust in a flash.

“No.”

Miss Drops scooted back, everypony observing the exchange as startled as her at the change in Faust.

“B-but, according to the Book of Names you can see a ponies Fate and their Marks.”

Sighing, Faust waved Miss Drops to come closer. “Miss Drops, tell me, what does your Mark mean?”

Blinking a couple times in confusion, Miss Drops answered in a hesitant voice, “Knots, ma’am. I’m good with knots and ropes. Can splice ‘em, tie ‘em, and am one of the best with the rigging, ma’am. Mama thought at first it was some musical Mark and I was going to be some hoity toity performer,” a couple of Miss Drops mates snickered, “but I set ‘em right.”

“Mmm Hmm,” Faust hummed, “Which makes sense since your mark is a bowline knot, if I’m not mistaken.” Faust gave a little chuckle, and Twilight couldn’t help but shake her head at the terrible pun. “Now, what is my mark, and what do you think it represents.”

“Why, ma’am, yours is the quill and inkwell!” cried Miss Drops without hesitation. “And it... um... I don’t know,” she admitted, “something to do with Fate, I always thought. That’s what the speakers always say.”

“Fate,” Faust gave a bitter laugh. “Look at me and ask yourself, if I was Fate, would I have allowed myself to end up like this? The answer is ‘no’, because if I was Fate, then I could just give myself a better Fate, yes? I’m not the Goddess of Fate, as has been taught for the last three thousand years...”

“I-I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean anything...”

“No, you didn’t, and that is alright. I let myself believe my own propaganda, Miss Drops, and that can be a dangerous thing for an Aeth— for an alicorn.” Turning back to the flat sea, Faust said, “thank you, though.”

“What for, ma’am?”

“For being a friend. The last ones I had were... long ago.” Faust gave her head a little shake.

Face glowing at the praise, the mare raised a hoof to her brow then skirted back to her mates. Twilight could hear Miss Drops’ voice as she excitedly told her mates about her nieces names.

“That was a nice thing you did,” Twilight said, eyes drifting back to her book.

A light snort greeted her compliment. “I did nothing more than normal. It was only in person this time.”

A long period of silence grew, engulfing Faust as she became lost in her thoughts, and Twilight back in her dry, boring book.

Eventually the silence was broken as Faust said, “Don’t ever let yourself become confused about what you are, Twilight.”

Looking up from an especially dull bit on trimming sails for different wind conditions, Twilight responded with a rather articulate, “Huh?”

“You are the Stars and Wishes. Don’t ever forget that or let yourself begin to think you are anything more. You are not Navigation, though the stars may be used for such. You are not Magic, though the Stars grant you a great deal of aether. You are not Desire, or Hope, or even really Wishes, per se, since they are simply granted as part of the function of the Stars.” Faust shook her head as she explained. She then turned to the sea again, there being few other places to look, and continued as Twilight watched her, a pensive purse to her lips. “I told that mare that I wasn’t Fate, so what am I? I used to know. I can remember remembering, but nothing more. There was a word... it explained it... I know this... but I can’t recall the word itself. When did I lose myself? Was it when your sister passed? No, it was long before even then. So, when was it? When did I convince myself I was Fate?”

“Auntie, are you okay?” Twilight asked, voicing the question because it needed to be asked, not because she didn’t know the answer. Faust’s distress was written clear upon her face.

“I hope you never know the true bite of this curse, Twilight. That you’ll be able to retain your perspectives and your compassion in the millennia to come.”

Faust turned away from the sea, and instead began to watch Pinkie as the party pony got a game of pin-the-tail started near the mainmast. The bosun, master, and captain all turned blind eyes to the game, whistling as they looked everywhere else. “I like the new Element of Laughter. Hers is a much more pure and simple joy compared to Princess Platinum.”

In a flash the book was forgotten, Twilight’s head snapping up.

“Wait, what? Princess Platinum, like in the Hearth’s Warming tale, was the Element of Laughter?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yes. She had a far dryer, more wry sense of humour. Very contained, repressed almost. But she loved nothing more than seeing her ponies smiling. It was one of the reasons the long winter hit her so hard.” Faust gave a slight shake of her head. “But even as she lead the unicorns across the ocean, quite an endeavor at the time, she never forgot how to laugh.”

“The other Founders... were they also...?”

“Elements? Oh, yes,” Faust bobbed her head. “My grand attempt at redeeming my sister. What a failure. Yet, that wasn’t enough to get me to admit my own mistakes.”

Silence, sullen and thick, again claimed the conversation, Twilight trying to come up with something to say or ask. After several failed attempts, she returned to her book, and Faust to staring at nothing.

A short while later a low murmur rippled across the deck as Fleur emerged from below.

“Twilight, help us, there she goes,” one of the lower deck hooves said to another, nodding to Fleur, “the Jonah. She’s stolen the wind, now. What will be next?”

“Who said that?” Twilight’s voice cracked across the ship making several ponies jump.

Standing, Twilight thundered across the deck, casting a baleful glance about, looking this way and that until she stopped before the crewmare that had spoken. The mare gulped as Twilight towered over her. All eyes fixated on the princess, her spread wings and the tense set of her jaw.

“Your majesty?” the offending crewmare bowed low as she could.

Twilight just glared, then turned to look at all the other mares. They were a combination of curious and afraid. More than a few darting dark glances in Fleur’s direction. The ambassador stood to the side, watching the exchange, a glint of deep pain etched into her eyes. She shied away, letting her mane hide her face as she turned from the glares and mutterings of ‘Jonah’.

Standing straighter, letting the entire deck be encompassed by her presence, Twilight raised her voice until it was only just below Royal Canterlot levels of volume.

“If any pony thinks or believes this unnatural stillness is because of Fleur, you’re wrong.” Twilight stamped a hoof for emphasis. “I did this. I did not want my aunt to be recovering in a ship being tossed about the ocean. Fleur is not ‘cursed’!”

“But, she lied to you, Princess!” cried a voice from among those that were sewing. “She let the Seaweed sisters die!” added another.

Fleur snapped her head up at the second voice, tossing her mane and her eyes blazing. “Par Celestia! I did nothing of the sort! Quelle est cette folie?”

“She’s putting a curse on us!” yelped one mare.

“Oh, knock it off Clove Hitch, that was Prench, you bloody cherry!”

At once Captain Hardy’s deep voice roared from where he’d been observing. “Miss Pin, get that mares name! This is a ship of Their Majesties’ Navy, not some bawdy boarding school barracks. As for everypony else; back to your duties, the lot of you.”

Even Twilight almost jumped as Hardy stomped across the deck. With fire in his eyes, and his shoulders set, he gave a striking presence, one of absolute righteous power. The crew stood straighter beneath his baleful gaze, snapping crisp salutes before rushing off. Card games were ended and the waisters vanished below, leaving only the watch on deck.

“You shouldn’t have said that, Princess,” Hardy said, inclining his head for her to follow him back to the holy starboard quarterdeck. “They are a superstitious lot, sailors, but they are not foals. They’ll know that you’re trying to protect her. The Sea, she’s not tameable.”

Blushing, Twilight muttered, “I know, it’s like a giant Everfree.”

“Oh, no, she can be much worse,” Hardy said with a rumbling chuckle. “The Sea... the sea... She’s fire, and passion, yet cold and otherworldly. I have seen the great growlers floating from the Arctic in the late spring off the Banks, and I have stood proud at the helm of a sloop as she raced through a true, fall hurricane. As a colt I visited the far edge of the world and the wonders of the land down yonder. I have watched the narwhale breach glass smooth waters not unlike these, the sun cresting the rim to bring a new day, and I have seen an 80 gun second rate lose her head in a storm, turn side to the waves, and broach, taking seven hundred souls to the bottom in an instant. The Sea is alive, Princess, and you’d be best not to offend her.”

With those final words, Hardy touched his hat, and went below to tend to the paperwork of running the ship.

Twilight stood, for some time, watching the reflective light of the sun, before she returned to the poop.

As she passed Rainbow, the pegasus’ leg shot out and grabbed Twilight.

“Never again...” she groaned, rolling onto her side then hooves. “Never again are we going by ship.”

Before Twilight could respond, one of the stewards approached. “Some lunch, ma’am?” she asked, touching her hoof to her brow in a salute as she approached, a bowl of some thick, brown substance upon her back. “It’ll set you to rights, it will, ma’am. A pound of good Equestrian biscuits, all mashed up and with a ration of rum to keep it down.”

“Rum?” Faust called, head snapping over as her ears picked up the steward’s words.

“Aye, ma’am,” replied the steward as she set the bowl down before Rainbow, and took a spoon in her fetlock. The paste dribbled from the silver spoon in a slow, languid drip as the steward lifted it from the bowl. “Good, Marelantian rum.”

“You can not give her that,” stated Faust, her muzzle turned into a sharp frown.

“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but why in Twilight’s star speckled mane not? Nothing like mashed biscuits and rum to settle the stomach.”

Holding out her hooves almost pleadingly, though Rainbow never begged for anything, ever, the pegasus asked, “Will it really help with this seasickness?”

“Course it will, or I ain’t Barrel Scraper, which’n being my name, ma’am.”

“Because she isn’t seasick,” Faust stated. “She is with foal.”

There wasn’t time for a poignant moment of silence as Faust’s words rumbled like thunder through Rainbow and Twilight before Pinkie appeared.

“Wow! Dashie is going to be a mommy?” Pinkie’s smile was as wide as the ship, her eyes shimmering like they held every one of Twilight’s stars. A little squee of pure joy escaped the party pony as she wrapped her best friend in the biggest, warmest, sugariest of hugs. “I was wondering what that little pinchy-pinch in the end of my tail was. I mean, I had it when Mrs. Cake was carrying the twins, and that means one of the ponies I love mostest is going to have a foal. But I also had this little itchy-itch at the tips of my ears and my mane would go all wibbly for the first week, which meant it was a combo, and combo’s are so hard to figure out. You know what this means, right?”

Stunned by Faust’s declaration and her friends exuberance, Rainbow didn’t think before asking, “No, what?”

Pinkie stopped talking long enough to suck in a deep breath before shrieking, “Foalshower Party!”

That got Rainbow’s train of thought moving again, the pegasus giving her head a rapid shake to clear the cobwebs.

“What? But... No!” Turning to Faust, Rainbow cried, “But... How can I be pregnant? I’ve not been with any stallions!”

“You’re a virgin, Dashie?” Pinkie tilted her head, a perplexed shimmer to her blue eyes.

“Huh? No! I’ve been with stallions before!” Rainbow protested, drawing chuckles from the several crew and officers listening in on the not-quiet or subtle conversation. Cheeks lighting up like the fireworks on Summer Sun Eve, Rainbow pressed ahead in a lower voice. “I’ve not been with a stallion during the season, Pinks. I’m not stupid. A foal would ruin any chance with the Wonderbolts. Besides, I’m not ready to be a mother.”

“Ready or not, it will happen.” Faust shifted a little on her cushions, stretching her good wing and waving Rainbow over. Hesitating only a second, Rainbow stood on shaky legs and crossed the deck to Faust to sit down beside the goddess. She was surprised when a white wing extended and drew her to Faust’s side.

“You’re sure about this?” Rainbow tried to laugh, but the noise became more of a strangled gargle. “I mean, I was fine until we got onto this stupid, slow, tub... Lots of pegasi have troubles with boats and sailing. You sure that’s not the problem?”

“I’m positive, my little pony,” Faust assured Rainbow softly.

“H-how? Why?” Rainbow asked, looking up at Faust for answers.

“The ‘how’, I can not say. As to the ‘why’, I can only guess.” Faust sighed, indicating with a hoof that Twilight, Pinkie, and Fleur should approach. “It is connected to Fleur, Tyr, and the night my sight... became blocked. Athena, Tyr, and the foal Twilight sails to rescue were not the only ones to appear. I counted ten disturbances in total. Three we know as the foals, the other seven I assume are their adult family. It should have been impossible for them to come to Ioka in the manner they did, but that is neither here nor there.

“You know about ‘Puff’, as Pinkie calls her, and her attempt to possess Twilight. She was driven off by Peewee, but if she hadn’t been, there is no telling what the spirit would have done. I suspect that Twilight and her would have battled, and no matter who won, the victor would have been shattered in the duel and emerged as a Nightmare.”

A gasp came from the four mares gathered around Faust, and she continued ahead before any could ask questions. She refused to have her own thoughts interrupted and disturbed.

“Athena took Fleur, and I am positive that the Elements of Kindness and Generosity both have uninvited guests as well. I find it very difficult to find either Rarity or Fluttershy within the Weave now.”

Again gasps, and again Faust pressed ahead.

“Of the six Elements, only Pinkie has been left alone. That isn’t to say she wasn’t visited the same night as the rest of you, it’s just that the entity, the spirit, turned away from Pinkie and instead followed the third foal to the middle reaches.”

“Aww, I could have had pretty, shimmering wings and a horn?” Pinkie pouted a little, crossing her hooves and ‘harumphing’.

“But, the spirits, the Aethyir, that visited you and Miss Applejack, they did something unexpected. They gave up all they were to be reborn.” Faust hugged Rainbow closer, feeling the pegasus trembling against the information.

It was Twilight who asked, “Wait, so, Applejack is... you know, as well?”

“Yes,” Faust confirmed with a twinkling smile. Looking down at Rainbow, “And you both will be excellent mothers. Melmëuva illumë yo endalye.”

“Uh, what?” Rainbow lifted a brow.

Stifling a giggle, Faust said, “You’ll understand, in time.”

Rainbow shifted a little uneasily, her own wings fluttering like she was about to fly away.

“I... I need some time to think,” Rainbow muttered before jumping over the stern railing and streaking off into the sky.

“Dash, wait,” Twilight called, giving an exasperated huff when Rainbow ignored her. “I better go make sure she’s okay,” Twilight said before opening her wings to follow her friend, Rainbow already almost invisible against the sea and sky.

Working her wings more than she’d ever done before, Twilight attempted to catch up to Rainbow. It quickly became evident that trying to chase Rainbow down was futile. Using a quick Teleport, Twilight crossed the distance. Rainbow jolted at the sudden flash of magic, almost crashing through the mirror smooth waters.

“Gah! Don’t do that Twi,” Rainbow snapped, gaining a bit of altitude before leveling back off.

“I was worried,” Twilight responded, a bit of bite in her tone. “You know flying on your own over the ocean is foalish. What if you couldn’t find your way back to the ship? We’re over a day away from the nearest bit of land!”

Rainbow opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut, looking away from Twilight instead. For some time they continued flying, side-by-side, with little alteration in course. The salty wind tussling their manes was the only difference from flying over Ponyville.

At last Rainbow spoke, banking to the south as she did so. “I’m not ready to be a mom, Twi.”

“I think most mares feel that way, Dash.” Twilight gave a small laugh as a memory flitted past. “Mother told me she was so afraid when she had her first foal.”

“Ugh, Twilight, that’s not what... I’m not worried about being a good mom. I’m going to be the best mom ever!” Rainbow gave a little laugh

“What? Then what’s all this about?” Twilight asked as they began heading towards a nearby cirrus.

Rainbow didn’t respond as they skimmed over the cirrus, hooves leaving little trails through the ice crystals. Twilight lost sight of Rainbow several times, the more agile pegasus weaving through and around the cloud. As they neared the cloud’s edge, Rainbow put on a burst of speed, tipping over the side and entering a dive.

Twilight had to work at keeping pace with Rainbow as they raced towards the ocean. Rainbow was completely at ease with her angular wings tucked in against her body, wind ripping across her face. She reached the bottom of her dive long before Twilight, wings flashing out to alter her course and shoot out over the water. Twilight pulled out of her dive long before her friend would have, her turn far slower and shallower. The tip of a hoof still managed to skip through a rolling wave before Twilight started climbing again.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why I don’t talk about my mom?” Rainbow sighed when Twilight caught up, spiralling upwards towards a towering, anvil-faced cumulousnimbus. Rainbow eyed the storm as they moved around it’s perimeter, a deep frown tugging at her face. “She’s never really been a part of my life. My dad is awesome. He basically raised me by himself. My herd-moms helped a bit, but they were always busy with their own foals. Mom though, the most I can give her was that she was just there,” Rainbow said more to herself than Twilight, back-winging to hover before the cloud. Staring ahead, Rainbow continued to speak. “She’s in the weather-guard, all the mares in my... family are.”

“You mean your Legion,” Twilight interjected.

Snorting, Rainbow shook her head. “Should have known you’d know about that. Yeah, my legion.” Rainbow gave another snort. “Stormbreakers, renowned for weather manipulation, and using the cover of storms to clobber their enemies. Mom’s a commander now, and she’s always pushing me to follow in her wake. That was her dream, though, not mine... Mine’s always been to race. To be a Wonderbolt!”

Hovering beside Rainbow, Twilight tried to give a comforting smile, but her friend was fixated on the developing storm.

“This isn’t part of the plan.” Rainbow paused as she looked past the storm to some distant, possible future. “Not many Legions will accept new ponies into them, Twi. There is an old pegasi saying, ‘The Legion is the peak the herd floats around’. The Wonderbolts might take in three or four new members over the next few years.”

Sighing, Twilight wished she could give Rainbow a hug. It’d mean entering free-fall, and every book Twilight had read on the subject made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that doing so over any body of water was a very bad idea. Instead, she just tried to make her presence felt.

“Dash, you’ve had the opportunity to abandon ponies before in pursuit of your dream.” Twilight said, moving to hover in front of Rainbow. “Nightmare Moon gave you the chance to be a Shadowbolt, all you had to do was turn away from four strangers and Fluttershy. But you didn’t.”

“Of course not! Who’d want to be some lame Shadowbolt?” Rainbow rolled her eyes.

Shaking her head, Twilight pressed her point. “No, you don’t understand how much character and Loyalty that took. Nightmare was lacing her offer with potent magic. The same kind I used on Smarty Pants.” Twilight paused to let her words sink in. “Plus, if it really was your dream of being a Wonderbolt that drove you, why did you come on this voyage?”

Snapping out of her stupor, Rainbow almost snarled as she said, “I’d never leave you or anypony hanging, Twi! It’d have just been you and Pinks. I didn’t feel right letting just the two of you go off without me.”

Twilight gave her head a little shake as she slid to Rainbow’s side. “I know the choice you’ll be making, Dash. I think you do to.”

“It’s not fair though!” Rainbow yelled, tossing up her hooves and shooting forward a few lengths before turning to face Twilight. “Giving up a couple years to spend time with you and Pinkie, okay, sure. But I made that choice, Twi! This,” Rainbow gestured to her midsection, “I didn’t make this choice. This has been forced on me.”

Twilight reared back as if she’d been kicked, cogs that should have been turning before roaring to action. She felt a fool, mentally kicking herself for not making the realization herself.

“Yes, it was, and I realise how unfair that is,” Twilight fluttered to Rainbow, and finally wrapped her friend in a hug, the pair falling a few yards to the rim of the cloud. “But there is nothing we can do about it.”

“No, there isn’t,” Rainbow agreed, kicking a puff of cloud. “The pony responsible is inside me.”

“Yes, she is.” Twilight said softly, feeling her friend shake, though in anger, sadness, or some combination of the two, Twilight was unsure. “And think what Faust said; she gave up all she was in doing so.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, it’s to help you understand. Look at what is happening to Fleur. There are two souls waring inside her for dominance, and the balance favours Athena more and more. What I hope is that instead of attempting to steal your life, this pony decided to have you as her mother. As you said, you’re going to be the best mom ever.”

Rainbow stopped shaking, taking a deep breath and letting it out through her nose, staring out over the ocean from their perch on the storm’s edge. Eventually she gave a weak chuckle, brushing a lock of her mane out of her face.

“This is so messed up, Twi.”

“No argument here,” Twilight quickly responded, the pair descending into a sullen silence as they continued to sit holding each other. After a while, Twilight gave Rainbow a little squeeze and said, “Come on, we should head back to the Bellerophon.”

“Yeah, I guess so... uh... where is it?” Rainbow swung her head around, but of the ship there was no sign.

Stifling a smirk, Twilight pointed to the north. “It’s that way, about thirty miles or so. I can sense my aunt there fairly easily.”

The flight back to the ship was done in silence, Rainbow retreating back into her thoughts. She spoke only once, when the Bellerophon came into view on the horizon, to say thanks to Twilight. For her part, Twilight just smiled in return. After taking a turn about the ship, receiving a few whistles and calls from the deck, the pair landed almost exactly where they had flown from hours earlier.

Faust and the others had hardly moved. Pinkie bounded over and gave Rainbow a big hug, one the pegasus didn’t reject. After what felt like ages, the two parted and Rainbow approached Faust.

Taking a steadying breath, Rainbow asked, “do you know her name?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What is it?”

Hesitating, Faust lowered her head, asking, “Do you wish to learn now? The pilgrimages to my temples have already begun.”

A low, rough chuckle rocked Rainbow, the pegasus wiping a tear from her eye. “Naw, I’ve never really been interested in that, no offense. I mean, I would have if I ever decided to have a foal. But you’re here, so why bother with all that mysticism mumbo-jumbo, right? You told that sailor the names of her sister’s foals, after all, and how many mares get to say that the Namegiver gave her foal’s name to her, face to face?”

“Very well,” Faust laughed along with Rainbow. “Her name is Zephyr Victoria Dash.”

“Zephyr Victoria Dash,” Rainbow repeated. “I think I like it. Yeah, that’s a cool name for a filly.”

A polite cough ended any further conversation, Timely standing next to the mizzen, his loblolly filly in his shadow carrying the medicine bag.

“Your majesty, ladies, my apologies, but I must see to the patient.”

Faust’s face contorted in displeasure, whether at the interruption or the stallion himself, Twilight was unsure. Nevertheless, she dismissed the others with a nod and addressed the physician. “You do realise that you are wasting both yours and my time.”

“Yes, yes, you wish to make yourself lame,” Timely said disinterestedly. “And how would that look, madam? The Goddess of Names, forever limping until the end of time? No, you decry my tinctures and ministrations, cry, ‘I am Aethyir and need no doctor’, but alicorn or not, goddess or no, bones don’t set themselves, bandages do not replace themselves, and if care is not taken, then infection and gangrene ever wait for the unwary.”

“Infection and gangrene.” Faust lifted her nose into the air and snorted. “I can catch neither.”

“Perhaps so,” Timely admitted as he unwound bandages, piling those that were soiled to one side to be burned. He would not be responsible for an alicorn’s blood falling into the wrong hooves. Many were the mare or stallion aboard who’d unwittingly take a bandage as a charm against the Jonah, and should the charm than fall into the wrong hooves... Timely shuddered at the mere thought. “If you can be wounded by a pony then you can be afflicted by a mold or an ill turn of the humours. I will not stake my reputation on your word against Celestia’s retribution. Now, hold still.”

As he worked —pressing his hooves to Faust’s throat or along her neck, using several different scanning spells on her broken limbs— he kept up a steady stream of explanation to his loblolly filly. She almost shook as he described the proper method of setting a bone, putting on a cast, and then the spells necessary to maintain or, if needed, replace it. Twilight couldn’t help but smile at the occasional question the filly, almost a young mare, would ask.

A three thousand year old system of apprenticeship, playing out before her eyes. Twilight fondly thought back to her time as Celestia’s student. All across Equestria there were tens of thousands of similar mentorships happening. She was brought out of her reverie by her aunt’s sharp voice.

“Excuse me, you wish to look at my what?”

“Your tongue, madam,” Timely repeated his demand.

Scowling, Faust set her jaw, lifting her nose high. “No, I draw the line at my tongue.”

Stifling a laugh, Twilight noted the blush creeping across Faust’s cheeks.

“Madam, I care not for your reasons, but I must insist. An examination of the tongue is paramount to ascertaining the state of your humours.”

“To Tartarus with your humours,” Faust snapped, “You’ve poked, prodded, and scanned me enough! I will not show you my tongue.” The last she said in an almost inaudible hiss, her eyes flashing as a deep scowl set about her features.

“Again, I must insist. Decry it as much as you want. Stamp your hooves and pout like a petulant filly all you will, it does little to change things. Your tongue, madam!” Timely’s unnaturally cold eyes grew colder still as he began to light his horn with magic.

Only Twilight’s quick intervention prevented the argument from escalating. “Auntie, you should let the good doctor examine your tongue,” she said, making her words gentle and comforting rather than accusatory.

“It is not done,” Faust protested, feathers on her good wing ruffling. She added in a lower voice, “Especially not in public.”

“‘Not in public’?” Twilight and Timely echoed together, the former in puzzlement, the later in consternation. With a soft ‘oh’, the pieces fell into place for Twilight. Stepping forward, she extended her wings to create a small barrier. “Would some privacy help?”

“I- uh, yes, a little,” Faust admitted, doggedly holding her head.

Turning away, Twilight gave a slight glare at anypony that had been observing the proceedings. Behind her she hear Timely mutter something to himself, but didn’t catch the words.

Safely ensconced from view, Timely approached, and in a gentler, yet still clinical, voice asked, “Madam, your tongue now, if you please?”

Relenting, Faust opened her mouth.

After a short examination, Timely said, “I do not like your pallor. Have you been eating your dinner properly? No, don’t try to fib, I can tell you haven’t by the yellowness of your skin beneath your coat. A diet of pickled beets, corn, and a glass of red wine to fortify the blood and bowels. I’d say that to do so would prevent you from becoming a corpse, but given your nature, you’d probably stay withered on the vine.”

“Withered on the vine?” Faust managed a slight, and only a slight, snort of amusement. “I am the Namegiver, old as the world herself, I can’t die.”

“Oh, fie on that ‘can’t die’ business, madam.” Timely gave a snort of his own, one of deep contrition. “Don’t think I wasn’t selected for this voyage specifically by the Naval Medical Board, and Celestia herself. I know all about alicorn physiology, and while your spirit, your essence and soul, if you will, are indeed unconquerable, your body is very much susceptible to being battered and bludgeoned as the next pony. You are sturdier, perhaps, but not invulnerable. And so long as you are my patient, I will make sure you remain among the living. Now, I think you’ve had enough sun. Let’s get you back to the cabin and bed.”

“Wait!” Pinkie cried, jumping up from where she’d been watching the banter between the doctor and his patient with an amused grin. “If Fausty goes to bed she can’t teach Twilight all the big, whooshy, flashy fighting spells. Twilight’s going to need them soon.”

Suppressing an exasperated sigh, Twilight pulled Pinkie back even as she went to help carry her aunt back to the great cabin.

“There will be time for that soon enough, Pinkie,” Twilight said kindly.

Pinkie’s bright blue eyes began to shimmer with tears as she pouted. “But... your training montage!”

“My... what?” Twilight deadpanned.

“Your training montage! I had music and everything ready. There was going to be quick-cuts, and fade-outs, and changing backdrops to show the passage of time.”

Unable to do anything else, Twilight rubbed her face with a hoof and said, “Pinkie, something so ludicrous would never work. If I need to learn how to fight, and I have to admit that with everything that has happened this voyage, it’d be a good idea, but if I have to, I’ll do it the normal way; with books and a teacher.”

“Well, of course you’d have books and a teacher! Those would be part of the montage, silly.” Pinkie giggled, then rubbed her chin, “But yeah, I suppose learning between scenes makes sense too. It’s not as much fun as a montage though.”

Shaking her head, Twilight decided it was best just to ignore Pinkie. As she tucked Faust into her cot, a vesper wind tickled the topgallants. They were soon followed by a truer wind. The crew raced aloft, sails were trimmed, and by the time Twilight returned to the deck, the Bellerophon was singing through the seas towards the distant Zebrican coast.

* * *

Over the cloud soaked skies of Zebrica, Sirius hovered. She was surrounded by her sisters, but had never felt more alone. The others were all still discussing the events in Trotalonia, and how they might impact them and their mistress. Twilight, she was their center, their guide, their protector, she who would for the rest of time be their other half. To Sirius she had another role, that of the usurper; she who stole the night away from Luna.

The star could feel her at all times, a small pressure at the edge of her awareness, and the star seethed. What angered the star the most was the absolute love she felt for the Mistress, a love strong as those between mother and daughter. The star hated that she loved the usurper.

Flitting above the clouds, she reached out with her magic, swishing their tops until they became twisted wisps that drifted away on the high breezes, burning off a small part of the anger she felt.

She was even helping the usurper, in a fashion. The Mistress sought to find and protect Talona, and so did the ghostly essence of Hope.

Panting a little, Sirius stopped her antics, releasing the remaining tendrils of cloud from her magical grasp. She wanted to go back down to the world, below the clouds, where she could do some good. But it took too much energy to manifest down below the sky. If not for the mistress, the star would have perished on her most recent excursion below. That she had managed to manifest several times in the past few months amazed her, but she had reached even her limit.

Unless she Fell.

But she was not ready to fall, to abandon her sisters forever; or so she thought.

Many stars had fallen over the ages, either tired of the endless vigil over the world below, or pulled from the sky. The last to fall had been Acamar, the river’s end, falling as she wept for the loss of Luna, and the hope that the Princess of the Night would be healed of her madness so that she could return their sisters taken from the sky to be used as weapons against Celestia.

Before Acamar, it had been Almundra, the Sable Star, stolen from the night by griffon wizards seeking a weapon against Discord.

With Almundra fell the Griffon Empire, the stars abandoning their vigil over the lands ruled by the Star-Stealers, denying them their guidance. Almundra's fate, like so many of the stars lost to the night, was unknown. She was lost to her sisters unless the Mistress could find her and bring her home.

Not that the Mistress knew anything about Acamar, Almundra, or the hundreds of others that were missing.

The star wondered what it would be like to fall. To truly give up her place in the heavens and burn across the sky in fire and magic. She toyed with the idea, turning it over and over in her mind. The star felt too important and head-strong to ever fully leave the night, but the idea was tempting.

Sirius, so this is where you've been hiding, chortled a voice behind the star, making her jerk out of her ruminations.

Growling, Sirius spun about, and found herself energy to energy with Polaris.

Sister, what are you doing this low in the sky?

I'm thinking and waiting, Sister, Sirius explained in a flat tone.

Polaris paused, the lodestar drifting closer. Sirius felt a warm touch from her sister gather around her followed by Polaris' worried voice.

You are going to leave us, aren't you? You're going to Fall.

No, of course not. I could never abandon you or our sisters. I'm just confused and need to figure things out. Sirius shook herself, trying to infuse her voice with surety, but she could hear the tremor of self-doubt.

There was a poignant pause as Polaris drew away, floating a short distance back up into the night. Sirius watched her sister drifting away, a sad note in the flickering of her light.

No, you're wrong, you're lying to yourself and me. Polaris' light turned a melancholy blue, her form growing dim among the black tapestry above. You have never been the same since Luna was consumed by madness, Sister.

It wasn't right what happened to her. She was corrupted by that abomination, an abomination that we were instrumental in creating. Sirius lamented, her voice taking on a hard edge as she turned away from Polaris and again considered the world so far below.

As always, she could see only ever half the world. What lay on the far side of the world the stars would never know. Only that Sun and Moon traveled there to sleep and let their twin have their turn among the heavens. Moon had once told the stars that there was an island where she and Sun would sleep until called to rise by their Mistress. Sirius was unsure if Moon spoke the truth or was just teasing and playing with the stars.  A few stars had tried to sneak behind Moon and peak beyond the horizon, only to be forced back by the same field of magic that kept them in the sky.

Ignoring the horizon, Sirius sent her gaze down to the griffon aerie on Kilagrifjaro.

Through a window she saw Talona, the small filly protesting as she was put to bed by a grizzled old griffoness. After several minutes fussing, the bed sheets were pulled up to Talona's chin and the filly settled, though she did shoot a venomous glare at the griffon's retreating back.

Sirius smiled.

She was starting to like the fire and energy of Talona, even though the two had never met. Sirius felt drawn to the filly, though she couldn't explain why. There was just a spark flickering within Talona, a small pulse of energy that reminded the star of something she'd forgotten eons ago.

Wiggling from side to side, the equivalent of shaking her head, Sirius looked away from the aerie. She was surprised when her gaze fell on the pink fog that was Hope as it rolled and bounded across the countryside.

It had been several days since Sirius had been able to connect with and help the ghostly apparition. Hope had left the sun-scorched plains and humid jungles and was instead flowing through tilled fields and past the towns and cities that dotted western Zebrica. Sirius brightened as she watched Hope enter a village, moving from hut to hut as it touched the villagers dreams, before Hope again continued on its way, bounding across the land.

Go, Polaris said, gliding closer so that she could wrap her magic about Sirius in a tender hug.

Sirius hardened at her sister's touch, her voice leaving her at Polaris' suggestion.

She turned and saw, gathered above them, all their sisters. They had stopped their habitual dancing and watched with curiosity and sadness.

Go, Polaris repeated, releasing Sirius and drifting back towards their sisters. Do what you feel you must.

Sirius floated lower, her gaze never wavering from the pink fog. She could feel the tug of curiosity and longing. She wanted to be with Hope, helping the apparition bring its namesake to the world. Watching the world wasn't enough, not anymore. Sirius had to touch it, to feel it, and help shape it. Certainty took hold of her as she continued her slow descent.

I'll miss all of you, she said, not looking back for fear of her resolve faltering. Sirius knew she wouldn't be able to take the next step if she looked towards her sisters. Sisters she knew she probably would never again be able to speak with, dance with, and watch the world with.

Steeling herself, Sirius leapt forward, the night sky trembling with a sharp crack. She felt the ancient magic that helped keep her aloft in the sky fight her sudden motion, trying to cling to the star as she gained speed and momentum. Then the magic lost its grip, the air around Sirius igniting as the star tumbled toward the earth.

A deep throaty roar filled her senses with noise and light, burning through her essence. Sirius tried to control her fall a little, flicking a piece of her magic to one side so she began to spin and tumble. A bubbling laugh, joyful and pure, flowed from her, the ground growing closer and closer.

She smiled as she passed over the towns and fields of Zebrica, the land's occupants, awoken by the initial explosion, filtering out of their homes to watch the spectacle. More and more pieces of magic broke away from Sirius, the star hissing in pain.

Even that was a novelty, Sirius having never experienced physical pain before.

Her magic burned away in a corona of white light as she fell. Sensations that she'd never experienced before began to flood into her. She could feel her magic pulling, stretching and crystallizing. Pain gave way to an odd sense of pressure focused at a point before her. The light peeled back and she blinked, wind pulling at lips and eyelids. Fire and agony filled Sirius, coursing through her new body. For a brief moment Sirius was neither a star, nor was she whatever she was becoming. And then she felt the oddest sensation yet, a dull throb inside her as her new heart beat for the first time.

Laughing and screaming, she fell lower and lower, entering the lower clouds. She lost sight of the heavens and the earth for a moment, her world becoming a hissing bubble of moisture gathered in the cloud's belly. Bursting from the cloud like a golden spear, Sirius closed her eyes. Rain splashed across her new face and onto her wings, tickling senses she'd never possessed before.

The last of her magic rearing up into a protective shell, Sirius crashed into the earth, the ground shaking for miles as the former star dug a deep wound into rock and mud.

High above, Sirius' sisters wept, their tears showering through the night in fiery displays. As they wept they listened for the inevitable; for the Wishes.