Myths and Birthrights: The Archive

Myths and Birthrights

By Tundara

Part Two: Tremors in the East

Chapter Fifteen: Seven Wishes

Faust and Timely’s bickering rolled over the Bellerophon’s deck, unable to be avoided even by those repainting the ship’s figurehead.

Stepping to the larboard rail, Fleur paid little attention as the pair went back and forth. Her thoughts were consumed with what she’d learned, focusing on the most important aspect; she didn’t need to be in a war for her very existence. Fleur’s heart squeezed at the the idea that instead she could have a new life growing inside her.

To her right, Fleur could see Rainbow glaring out over the placid sea. Occasionally, Rainbow would glance down at herself and grimace. It was clear that, despite her words, she was still in turmoil.

Bitter tears pricked along the rim of Fleur’s eyes. How was it fair that Rainbow, who didn’t want a foal, should have such a blessing, while she was locked in a lopsided battle?

It isn’t fair that she should possess what you long for when she not only doesn’t want it, but is afraid of it, whispered Athena, the dead goddess chuckling as Fleur set her jaw. The worlds aren’t fair, however. It doesn’t matter which one, even the most ordered and perfect has flaws. The Quus did their work well. Athena paused, and Fleur could feel something like her unwelcome guest taking a thoughtful breath. Neither Rainbow Dash nor I are, or were, deserving of motherhood. I could not even look upon my foal after she was born and refused to even bless her with a name. I looked upon her and saw nothing but betrayal and loss. Will Rainbow see only what my cousin has taken from her? Or will she see what she has been given? Only time can tell.

“Why didn’t you do the same?” Fleur said in a low growl, grinding her teeth together. “I would have been overjoyed and seen it for a miracle.”

I did not because you or I could not, Athena stated, then, with a low chuckle, added, Though in all probability I still would have chosen this path. A single mortal is inconsequential in the scope of things.

“You are heartless,” Fleur spat, the tears beginning to spill down her face, spurred by the injustice.

I prefer ‘pragmatic’. Wisdom decrees that sometimes one must sever a limb to preserve the body, kill to prevent future suffering, or do what is amoral for the greater good.

“We have very different ideas of Wisdom, then.”

For the moment, Athena gave a low chuckle. Faust has evened the field between us. I’d say it will be interesting to see how long you maintain your morals should you win, but I will be gone and lost to the Aether if you are victorious, so...

“You made this bed.” Fleur lifted her chin. “You could have chosen another.”

Perhaps, but you were the most compatible. By the time I had gained enough awareness, it was too late.

“You alright, ma’am?” Timely asked, his voice at Fleur’s shoulder making her jump and silencing Athena.

“O-Oui, je vais bien,” Fleur quickly responded, doing her best to put on a smile and not draw attention to the matted fur on her muzzle.

“I detest a liar, ma’am,” snapped the doctor, pulling out two thick cigars from the breast pocket of his vest. “You are clearly distressed. It is not your tenant, is it? Faust mentioned that the two of you would soon be able to communicate more freely. Perhaps I speak too loosely. She did speak out of turn, her tongue freed by her medicine. Then again, your health, your mental health, is under my purview as the ship’s physician. It is as a doctor I speak, ma’am. I’ve seen many a mare and stallion succumb to flights of dementia. How could some not? Confined to a floating coffin for months or years on end, endlessly driven by the officers, death waiting just  beyond every horizon. There is little of Equestria’s freedom on the sea. It is my duty, mind you, to ensure healthy bodies and spirits. I have seen mare’s go mad for land and think they see a field of grass and hurl themselves overboard to be eaten by sharks. Should you suffer such a bout of dementia it could be far worse for all. There, I have laid all bare on the matter, now, your answer.”

Fleur considered lying again. She didn’t have the heart to attempt to insist that she was fine. The piercing light in the doctor’s eye made her doubt such a lie would work regardless. So, she took the offered cigar, lit it with a simple flame cantrip, and took a long pull of the vile thing to settle her nerves.

“I cannot have foals, doctor,” Fleur stated, her tone flat and emotionless.

“Ah, I see,” was all Timely said, and all that needed saying. For several minutes the two stood in silence, sending up thin streams of smoke, then Timely said, “I was in love, once. Long ago, mind you. I have since cured myself of the affliction. She was a beautiful young mare. Moon-born, with a coat like sapphires and eyes yellow as the center of a daisy. She did not love me back, however, and joined with an established herd some time ago. Has two lovely fillies now, last I heard. Our beloved captain, once thought a confirmed rake —I recall one time in Marenilla he tried to smuggle two sisters into the chain locker, ahem, I begin to digress— my dear friend has a monogamous marriage and seven, merciful Celestia, seven foals. I don’t know where he found the time to create such a brood.”

Frowning around her cigar, Fleur asked, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, and everything. Life is not static, and it doesn’t always give us what we expect, my dear. But we move on, put one hoof before the other and dream of what tomorrow will bring and pray to the Goddesses that it is better than yesterday.” Timely gave a chuckle. Leaning against the railing, his gaze shifted sidelong to where he’d come. “You never know what life will throw in your path.”

Flicking the stub of his cigar into the placid water around them, Timely excused himself and went below to dissect a peculiar petrel that had died the previous evening in the catting for the larboard anchor.

Fleur remained at the rail. She was there long after the Elements and Faust had retired below. She was still there when Twilight stepped out and, in a swish of her horn, woke the stars before returning to the great cabin.

Around her the crew went about their duties, stepping lively as a sharp, cool wind floated across the deck and caressed the sails. There was a flow of bodies up the mast, spurred on by the bosun’s whistle, where they set about trimming of sails to take advantage of the timid zephyr. The wind stayed with them long enough to reach the edge of the blessed trades and the sails filled to their fullest.

She was still at the railing as eight bells were rung, signalling the end of the Dog watch and the start of the First watch. After two months at sea, her mind quickly translated this to mean it was eight in the evening.

It was then, her sight and thoughts having long dwelled elsewhere, that Fleur was brought back to the present by a peculiar sight. Two stars drew closer to one-another, and then the brighter of the two began to descend until it was falling. Flames, pink-blue, leapt across the night from the streaking point of light creating dancing auroras like a wake.

There was a cry from below, pained and confused, but Fleur paid it little heed.

Focusing on the twirling wreath of light about the falling star Fleur remembered something her mother had once told her. It didn’t matter who you were, pauper or princess, when you wished upon a falling star. All that mattered was how strongly you wished.

Closing her eyes, Fleur silently said, “Je veux être en mesure d'avoir des poulains.”

She let the wish fill her, seeping through every vein and along each hair, making her coat tingle. She wished with all the strength of her heart.

She did not see Regulus twinkle a little brighter. The Queenmaker took the wish into herself, the purity of the desire for motherhood filling the star with a gentle blue light.

Fleur did see Twilight stagger out of the great cabin, the princess’ magic sputtering and sparking from the tip of her horn. Crew and officer alike jumped to help the struggling alicorn, only to be pushed back as a wave of energy erupted from her. With a howl, Twilight threw back her head, a beam of magenta aether tearing itself free before roaring into the sky.

Collapsing onto the deck, Twilight panted as if she’d just finished a marathon, her wings draped across the rail for support. She had little time to recover, before she stiffened, and a second beam of magic scoured its way up into the night. Five more times the process repeated itself.

On the fifth, Fleur felt a tingle flicker across her coat, working it’s way down her back and into her abdomen. The feeling was both cool and warm, making her skin roll and insides twitch, but not unpleasantly.

As the sensation passed, and Fleur carefully edged her way towards the princess, Athena gave a low, bemused chortle.

* * *

The day was clear, the air fresh and warm with summer on Big Mac’s face as he trotted up the cobblestone path to Fluttershy’s cottage. The draught pony had an old clan song on his lips, and he felt exceedingly content. Sure, there was a mountain of work still waiting to be attended to at the orchard, Apple Bloom was going through a difficult phase, wanting to turn every flower, weed, and root she found into a potion or poultice of some sort, and Applejack had become as sore as a nag with a nail in her hoof.

Despite these concerns, Mac wasn’t worried. He’d take care of them all in time, one by one, same as he always had. He also had a sneaking suspicion about what had been bothering Applejack, and he hoped to soon have it dealt with, one way or the other.

So, he lifted his head a little higher, took in a deep breath of the sweet air that permeated the area around Fluttershy’s cottage, and enjoyed the beautiful day.

“Oh, no, you shouldn’t do that,” came Fluttershy’s voice, flittering down the path.

Mac’s ears pricked forward, wondering who the pegasus was speaking with. Probably Applejack, Mac thought at first. The idea quickly vanished, it was market day and Applejack would be selling the produce. Frowning, Mac slowed and began to creep forward, muffling his hooves on the grass as he attempted to hear whoever Fluttershy was speaking with.

“Stan couldn’t stay... Well, I suppose. But I don’t want you to do that... Oh, dear, no, I’m not trying to argue. I’m sorry, I didn’t... Oh. Oh! I’m sorry, you were joking, I... somepony is coming?”

Rounding the corner of the cottage, Mac saw Fluttershy sitting at her garden table, alone. There was nopony, or zebra for that matter —Zecora often taking tea with Fluttershy— present. There were dozens of woodland critters. Everything from squirrels and field mice to the great brown bulk of Mr. Bear arrayed like a living carpet around the pegasus. The trees were awash with birds, and one was even nesting between Fluttershy’s ears.

“Oh, hello Macintosh!” Fluttershy said, a wide grin and relief making her face glow in the early dusk light. “What are you doing out here?”

“Well, I was curious about something that’s been on my mind for some time. Reckoned I’d come over and ask, is all,” Mac hesitantly said, concentrating on making his way through the hundreds of animals without harming any.

“Oh, y-you do?” Fluttershy asked, shrinking down on her cushion.

“Eeyup,” he said, finally reaching a cushion, and carefully sitting after making sure it was clear of critters. “Heard you talking as I came up the path. Thought you might have company.”

Fluttershy trembled a little, a single bead of sweat pricking along her brow.

“C-company? No, just my little animal friends.”

“Eeyup, see that now,” Mac said.

“S-so, you came to ask me something?” Fluttershy shifted a little on her cushion, looking anywhere but at him.

“I was curious if’n you’d want to go out someday.” Mac stated. Outwardly he gave the same, stoic expression he always possessed. Inwardly his heart was beating like he’d just been in a race with Applejack after dragging on old tree out by it’s roots.

“A d-date?” Fluttershy’s mouth fell open, a couple of the squirrels cooing and making fainting motions before breaking out in snickering. “O-oh, I-I’m not so... so...” Snapping her eyes shut, Fluttershy took a steadying breath, and asked, “Do you mean to court us?”

There was something else in her voice, something that made it seem to trill, almost, but Mac couldn’t quite place it.

Lifting a brow, both at the question and the way Fluttershy’s voice seemed to shift, Mac slowly nodded and gave an, “Eeyup.”

“Why do you ask now?” Fluttershy continued, eyes still closed, but a pleasant smile on her lips.

Figuring she was keeping her eyes closed to avoid a panic attack, Mac gave a tilt of his head. It helped that it made her look so cute. Eyes gently shut, her smile made his heart beat faster.

“Been watching you for a while now, Miss Posey,” Mac began, using a cough to compose himself. “Thought you were the prettiest mare around, but that don't mean much in the long haul of things. Then I got to know you, what with you coming around to see Applejack, or the times you’d be chasing one of your critters through the acres. Saw you were an even prettier soul; gentle, sweet, kind as kind can be. Been waiting for you to work up the courage to ask yourself, but...” Mac shrugged as he concluded his little explanation.

“What about Cheerilee?” Fluttershy laid her chin, eyes still closed, on her folded hooves.

Mac let out a short chuckle. “Ain’t nothing there. We’re just friends is all. Been that way since we were little.”

“So, you and she are not courting?” Fluttershy pressed, leaning forward ever-so-slightly.

“Nope.” Mac gave his head a languid shake. “So, would you—”

“We will go out tomorrow, if that is acceptable?” Fluttershy said, mouth tight with anticipation beneath her closed eyes.

Mac wished she’d open her eyes, he enjoyed the way they would shine like aquamarines when she smiled. He was also a little off-put by how forceful she had become. Then again, he’d seen how she could get when pushed or during an especially bad day.

“Sounds good.”

“Excellent!” Fluttershy gave her hooves an excited clap. “I believe social etiquette is for the mare to take the stallion to dinner and then to a film or play.”

“Don’t need to go to all that. Dinner’s just fine,” Mac said as he stood. “Sides, since I think I technically asked you out, it’ll be my treat.” Giving Fluttershy a smile and nod, though she saw neither with her eyes still clamped shut, Mac bid her a good evening, and began the walk home.

If he had looked back just before turning the corner of the path, he would have seen Fluttershy open her eyes, and a bright glow emanating from their depths.

“Yay!” Artemis squealed, “We get to go on a date! Daddy never let me go on a date. I wonder what we should wear? Green brings out the colour of our eyes wonderfully, and goes so well with our coat and mane, don’t you agree, Fluttershy?”

W-well, yes, Fluttershy squeaked within her own mind. I really wish you hadn’t done that, though.

“Why not?” Artemis tilted their head. “I know you like him, and he just admitted he likes you. Isn’t a date what normal ponies do when they like each other?”

Um, I suppose... Fluttershy admitted. But he’s Big Mac! The kindest, strongest, most eligible gentle-stallion in all of Ponyville!

“I’m pretty sure he just used most of those adjective to describe you...” Artemis giggled. “Aphrodite couldn’t conceive of a more perfect match! You’ll be so precious together.”

Stretching, Artemis made her way into the cottage, the sea of woodland critters dispersing towards their burrows. Over the course of the next couple hours, Artemis and Fluttershy shifted position several times; Fluttershy taking care of her animals, and Artemis brushing Stan the chimera’s coat free of tangles and burrs. Fluttershy cooked two smaller dinners. While she had a salad, Artemis had a small piece of fish, taken from those used to feed the river otters, fried in olive oil with garlic, and served cold with grated cheese atop noodles, a glass of simple white wine available to wash it down.

Artemis, are you okay? Fluttershy asked as Artemis pushed her food around the plate. You’re not hungry, are you... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have eaten first.

“No, it is not that,” Artemis said, lifting a small portion of her meal. Savouring the tastes and textures, she wondered how much to tell Fluttershy. Yes, they shared a body and their minds touched, but there was much they could keep hidden from the other. Deciding on the truth, Artemis said, “I worry for you, friend Fluttershy. I only continue to grow stronger, and since re-awakening, I have noticed that you fade more and more. Today is the first day where I’ve been in control longer than you.”

I’m just a little tired today, that’s all. I don’t mind you having time to stretch your legs.

Realizing that trying to explain her worries would only trouble Fluttershy, Artemis finished her meal in silence, wondering how many more she’d be able to share with Fluttershy before the pegasus vanished, and she was alone.

Since Fluttershy had made dinner, Artemis did the cleaning up before heading upstairs. Stepping into the bedroom, Artemis looked up in time to see Sirius streaking across the night.

Oh, how pretty! Fluttershy cooed.

Artemis remained silent as she watched the falling star, then asked, “Fluttershy, do you trust me?”

Y-yes? I suppose so...

“Can you wish on the star to help me?” Artemis’ voice contained a slight tremor as she asked the question, one she knew she had no right to ask.

Help you? I don’t need to wish on the star to want that. Fluttershy’s worry and confusion filled her voice.

“It’s important, Daughter of Posey,” Artemis whispered. “Wish to help me, and nothing more. Do it now, please.”

The glow leaving their shared eyes, Fluttershy looked up at the falling star, folded her hooves, and wished. She let the wish flow from her heart and wings, and though it had been suggested to her, it was still her own.

Above, Rukbat shone a bright, blood red as she heard the wish, smiling upon the desire to help another. Beside her, Brachium listened for the other half of the wish. What she heard shocked her, almost enough that she nearly refused to take it into herself. But she did, and the two stars sighed as they awaited their Mistress’ call to complete their duty.

* * *

Fireworks exploded over Cantershire in the grand finale to Trixie’s show, lighting the new night with flashes of pink and yellow.

Trixie herself stood at the center of her wagon-turned-stage, hooves in the air and a huge grin on her face as she soaked up the applause given by the moderately sized crowd. Above her floated her signature pointed hat, held up by an invisible magical grip —a feat very few unicorns could accomplish— so that it appeared to be flying on it’s own. Her horn was surrounded in her normal light-blue aura as she levitated a thin, white rope, making it dart and chase after her hat.

“Come back here, Hat! Trixie commands you!” she shouted, falling back onto her hooves and scowling up at the darting object, much to the delight of the foals in the front row. “You’re messing up the fireworks!” Stomping her hooves in mock anger, Trixie made the rope shoot forwards.

At the same time she made the hat drop down onto the head of one tiny filly. With a simple illusion, covered by the manipulation of the rope, Trixie made the hat’s brim appear to split and a tongue roll out to give her a long, loud raspberry.

“When Trixie gets her hooves on you, you’ll be in for it, hat!” she shouted, making the fillies and colts laugh even louder, their parents joining them, stomping their hooves in applause.

The rope darted forward. The Hat ducked and weaved, occasionally razzing both Trixie and the rope. Trixie hurled dire warnings at the errant object. Eventually she ended the show, Hat having defeated her rope using the Selbit Box that Trixie had used to saw Shyara in half during the show’s first act, as an additional flurry of fireworks lit the sky.

Floating her hat back to her head, Trixie bowed again, saying, “The Great and Powerful Trixie thanks you, ponies of Cantershire, it has been a delight to entertain you this day.”

The crowd began to disperse, a few ponies coming forward to thank Trixie for the show. Thanking them for the compliments and bits, Trixie smiled as she packed up her wagon, pulling the hidden switches and levers necessary for the stage to roll up like the tongue of a hound, becoming a nondescript wall. When the last townspony had left, Shyara slunk out of the shadows.

“That was a really good show,” she said, hopping up onto the wagon’s steps and letting her back hooves dangle in the air.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Trixie beamed, sitting down beside the filly. “Your screams were a bit much during the Selbit Box bit.”

Shrugging, Shyara gave Trixie a cheeky smile. “I thought they added to the horror of the act.”

“A little too much,” Trixie gave her tongue a disapproving click. “Trixie tries not to give foals nightmares, but to have a little fear before the reveal. A little fear can be fun, like on Nightmare Night.”

“What’s that?”

“Nightmare Night? It is an old holiday where ponies placate Nightmare Moon so she won’t steal ponies from their beds during the coming long nights of winter. That was the intent, at first. Now it is a night of games, costumes, treats, and tricks. A happy night, filled with laughter, smiles, and screams.”

Shaking her head, Shyara muttered, “Equestria has some weird traditions.”

“You don’t have anything simular back home?” Trixie gave a smirk, nudging Shyara in the ribs.

“Well, there is the Panathenaia. That’s my cousin’s birthday. She had races, a big feast, and in the evening there would be a sacrifice.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Trixie quickly decided she didn’t want to know what a ‘sacrifice’ entailed, having the distinct impression it wasn’t leaving food or sweets at the base of a statue. Instead she pointed to the sky as Sirius began her fiery plummet.

“Look, a shooting star.”

“A star is falling?” Shyara asked, the words flat, emotionless, and somehow sadder because of it. “Mother was always good at avoiding having her stars fall.” There was a pause as they continued to stare up at the twinkling jewels above and Trixie struggled to find anything to say. “I wish I could visit home again, just for a little while.”

Vega twisted in her vigil, her gaze shifting from a poor family in a nearby village to the more potent wish. She considered which of the two to carry, but the depths of the required energies to fulfill Shyara’s wish intrigued her. Glowing brighter than she ever had before, Vega held the wish close.

Shyara grew quiet while she waited, watching as star after star grew brighter.

Growing bright enough to light the land below, Vega repeated the wish the moment she felt Twilight lift herself into the night. A delicate moment ticked by, and then Vega felt as the wish she carried was answered, as well as those held by six of her sisters. Vega smiled as a great portion of Sirius’ cast off magic swirled around her before falling back toward Ioka, and the filly sitting on the wagon’s step.

Shyara smiled as she felt the tingle of magic surround her. Trixie’s ears pricked forward at the unfamiliar aether, her horn tingling from her proximity. Turning her head, she was startled to see Shyara fading away. Giving a shout, Trixie lunged forward, grabbing Shyara with both her hooves and her own magic, surrounding the pair in a delicate blue shell.

“Wait!” Shyara gave the warning too late, the magic of the fallen star reaching through the shield.

With a little pop, like a soap bubble, the shield vanished, and so too did Trixie and Shyara.

* * *

Half way between Ponyville and Sweet Apple Acres, Applejack sat leaning against her almost empty apple-cart.

In one hoof she held her old, weathered stetson, in the other a sheaf of official looking papers. Tears hovering at their edges, her eyes flitted back and forth between the two. It wasn’t until the sound of hooves crunching on the gravel road reached her ears that Applejack blinked, shoved the papers into her hat, and the hat onto her head.

Around a bend appeared the Hooves family; Dinky, Sparkler, and their mom, Derpy.

Tears stung Applejack’s eyes at the sight of Dinky bouncing around her sister, animatedly telling the story of her day with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. A couple years younger than the Crusaders, Dinky didn’t often spend time with the rambunctious trio. Privately, Applejack also suspected that Derpy didn’t want Dinky playing with Apple Bloom and her friends. Not that she could blame her, with all the crazy antics the Crusaders were infamous for around town.

“Miss Applejack, you okay?” Derpy asked, her accent making her voice slow, almost languid. Many mistook the way she spoke to mean she was a little thick, but long-time residents of Ponyville knew better. Derpy Hooves simply took her time with everything she did, putting extra care into each word.

“Y-yeah, everything’s just peachy,” Applejack said.

“Mm Hm,” came the reply, Derpy turning to her older daughter and saying, “Love, could you take your sister home, I’ll be along in a bit.”

It wasn’t a request, and after a slight hesitation, Sparkler said, “Sure mom, come on Dinks. Dad should be done tinkering in his box by now.”

Hardly even pausing, Dinky gave a great cry of “Alonzy!” and took off at full speed down the road, her sister following at a canter.

When the pair had gone far enough that it was safe to assume one or the other, but most probably Dinky, wouldn’t return, Derpy sat down beside Applejack.

“Want to talk about it, hun?”

Shifting a little, Applejack muttered, “Ain’t much to talk about, sugarcube.”

“Horse-apples,” Derpy replied, “If you will pardon my Prench. I may have only one good eye, but that just means I take the time to notice things others miss.”

Applejack stared at Derpy, her mouth hanging open ever-so-slightly. Snapping it shut, she looked away. She couldn’t bring herself to look towards the other mare, not even when Derpy placed a gentle hoof on Applejack’s withers, for fear of everything spilling everything out right there in a tumble of words. Eventually the tears dried unshed, and the slight irregularity in her chest settled.

“Derpy, I been meaning to ask you,” Applejack started, her words slow, bordering on hesitant. It was absurd that she would hesitate. She just needed to pick the right words, that was all. “Why’d you decide to have another foal?”

Derpy laughed, letting her oversized wings fluttering a little as she rocked onto her hind hooves. Tilting her head a little, Derpy put a hoof to her chin, eyes squinting as she went deep into thought.

“I was ready, and so were Carrot and Turner.” Derpy finally said, pulling her face up into a brilliant smile. “Sparkler was a... surprise. The best kind, yes, but I was young and made a mistake. Things were hard for a long time, and then I met Carrot Top, Time Turner, and, eventually, Cloud Kicker.”

“Things were hard for you? Why? If you don’t mind my asking.” Applejack gulped, her face heating up as she blushed and eyes darted about the empty road.

Applejack knew the rumours that surrounded Derpy, but they’d always been that, rumours, and Applejack didn’t put much stock in the rumour mill.

“Oh, I got knocked up by some sailor or other. I think he was an officer, but I really don’t recall anymore. It was just a one night fling just before the start of The Season and I thought I’d be okay. Rather foalish, really.” Derpy laughed, her face glowing with her mirth. Then she quickly grew sober, her golden eye heavy with old, painful wounds. “When it became apparent I was with foal, my legion got—”

“Ah, excuse me, hun, but what’s a ‘legion’?” Applejack interjected, her face twitching at self-irritation.

Blinking quickly as she tried to reorder her thoughts, eyes pointed in wildly different directions with each flicker of her eyelids, Derpy said, “Oh, uh, Pegasus Houses. I forget that they’re not common in Ponyville. Almost all the pegasi here are legionless! Heh-heh.” When she noticed the confused look on Applejack’s face, Derpy quickly added, “Um, think of a legion a bit like an earth pony clan. Large extended family.”

“Ah, okay,” Applejack sighed, fitting the pieces she had learned over the years together in her head. “Wait, they didn’t kick you out, did they?”

Derpy flared her wings at the almost accusatory tone in Applejacks voice, the farmer cursing herself again for her lack of tact.

“Not exactly, but I was made very unwelcome,” Derpy shrugged as her wings settled, feathers ruffling against her coat. “Some of them hated me, I guess.”

Applejack reeled back as if she’d been kicked, sputtering, “Hated you?”

“Yeah, some of my cousins and aunts. Even one of my herd-mothers was rather upset with me, the old mule.” Derpy laughed again, the sound heavy and slow, making her wings ripple with each guffaw. “But the Marelantians... they are nothing like the Heartlands. That’s where I’m from, the Marelantians that is. The islands are part of Equestria, but are so removed that they are different. More traditional, I’ve heard. The albatross stick with the albatross, the ravens the ravens, and no pegasus ever goes with a unicorn or earth pony. But, since the Marelantians are something like ninety percent albatross pegasi, it’s not usually an issue. Ponyville though, well, we have earth ponies, unicorns, and every wing of pegasus there is to be.” Derpy declared this last bit with a smug grin.

“That diversity is what brought me here,” she continued, her words coming faster, and her heavy accent growing thicker as a result. “Felt right, proper, the best place to raise Sparkler, and later Dinky, and soon this little muffin.” Derpy patted her belly as she finished. Her face brightened. “Say, you want a muffin? I’m afraid my pregnancy has really affected my baking. All I have is mint and banana, blueberry and avocado, and dandelions and potato.”

“The dandelion and potato sounds kinda good, actually,”

Smiling, she dug the muffin out of her saddle-bags. Giving it to Applejack, Derpy said, “Yeah, you are so very pregnant, Applejack.”

Applejack was glad she hadn’t taken a bite of the muffin as she would have been choking on it. Pealing off the wrapper, she looked down the road towards Sweet Apple Acres, asking, “What makes you think I’m pregnant?”

For her part, Derpy gave Applejack the most powerful ‘are-you-joking?’ look she possessed. With a teenaged daughter, it was extremely potent, making Applejack duck her head a little lower in shame.

Applejack sighed as she stared down at the muffin, saying, “Yeah, stupid question, I know.” Taking a bite, she added, “This has no right tasting as good as it does,” crumbs leaking from her mouth. “It’s just... I’m worried.” Leaning back against her cart, looking up at the stars beginning to shimmer in the velvet tapestry above Ioka, Applejack continued, saying, “Some nights I almost wish that I weren’t pregnant. Most nights, in fact.”

For once, Derpy’s eyes both seemed to settle, her mouth pressed into a hard line. “You don’t mean that, do you?” She asked, shifting closer to Applejack and gazing up at the same stars.

Applejack rested her hooves on her belly. She was beginning to show. It wasn’t much, just a slight plumpness in the belly where none had been before, but it was enough. “I... no... not really.” Taking a long breath, Applejack added, “It’s just, I don’t exactly live a safe life. Living on a farm can be dangerous enough, but I get pulled into all sorts of crazy hijinks with the rest of the girls. I should be half way across the disc right now with Twilight, Dash, and Pinkie. We’ve had more than a few close calls over the years. What if something happens to me? I think that scares me most; leaving her alone.”

Derpy didn’t answer right away, instead twirling a hoof through the gravel on the roadside as she thought.

“I suppose your family would take care of her then, as they took care of Mac, Bloom, and you,” she finally answered.

“Yeah, well, Granny ain’t the most spry pony anymore. Mac would do good by her though. Same with Bloom, now she’s older.”

Derpy nodded and let a few minutes of silence pass between them as they watched the night grew darker. “So, those papers you hid in your hat, they are from the doctor I gather?”

Applejack let her silence speak for her.

“Heh-heh, I used to keep mine in my mail-bags when I still did the rounds. Now that I run the mail office, I keep them in the top drawer of my desk,” Derpy laughed. “So, you’re having a little filly, huh?”

“Eeyup.”

“Does the father know?”

“Nope.”

Pausing, Derpy shook her mane. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place.”

“Naw, it’s alright,” Applejack shrugged. “Everypony has been on me about if I’m pregnant or not, and who the father is and all that chicken-feed.” Pausing, Applejack looked around to make sure they were alone. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the moment she said the next few words Pinkie was going to pop out of her apple-cart, or from behind a bush, or just fall out of the sky, never mind Pinkie was thousands of miles away. “I think it’s Soarin Highfeather.”

“You think?” Derpy giggled, giving Applejack a playful nudge. “You naughty mare.”

Blushing profusely, Applejack quickly said, “It ain’t like that. We were together a few weeks before the Season started. Thought I was safe and all, but...” Applejack shrugged, then laughed. “Can’t tell a lie to save my soul usually. But with this, everypony believes me when I say I weren’t with no stallion. Probably because I mean during the season, and that’s the truth. I ain’t really lying, but it ain’t the truth either.”

There was a short pause, then Applejack whipped her head around to face Derpy, sputtering, “Wait, you ain’t shocked that Soarin is the father?”

“Oh, hun, the number of times he’s been spotted going to or from Sweet Apple Acres, or in the area?” Derpy shook her head. “You’re apple pie is good, but not that good, and he isn’t going to visit Big Mac.” A playful smirk lifted Derpy’s eyes as she poked Applejack again. “So, you been to see the doctor? I bet you have.”

Tensing her jaw, Applejack sighed, and took off her hat. She wasn’t sure why she was saying so much to Derpy. She figured it was a combination of her hormones being all over the orchard, and just the comfort of talking with an older, more experienced mare. Reaching into her hat, Applejack pulled out the papers and hoofed them over to Derpy. Squinting in the evening light, it took Derpy several minutes to decipher the words.

“This can’t be right, can it?” she eventually asked, looking up, her good eye almost begging for Applejack to say that she’d read them wrong.

“Sure as the rain will come,” Applejack said, taking the papers back and placing them safely under stetson again. “Doc did the test four times to be sure.”

“But... Huh... Wow...”

“Eeyup.”

“So... Are you going to tell the Princesses?”

Giving Derpy a sharp look, Applejack snapped, “Not sure it’s any of their business.”

“Applejack... this is big. Bigger than an Element of Harmony having a foal, which probably wouldn’t be big outside the Heartlands anyways. But this? All of Equestria is going to—”

“They ain’t going to know,” Applejack interjected, her tone as firm and unmoving as an aged oak.

Shaking her head, Derpy said, “Applejack, hun, this isn’t something you can keep quiet. Your doctor, at the very least, knows. And me, I suppose.”

Grabbing Derpy, Applejack gave her a pleading look. “You can’t tell anypony. Not a soul, Derpy. Please.”

Sighing, Derpy closed her eyes, nodding when she opened them. “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye, I promise I won’t tell another soul your filly is an alicorn.”

Sagging in relief, Applejack said, “Thank you.”

Again, silence reigned between the pair, both losing themselves in thought. Neither could say precisely what they were thinking, their minds too taken up with the idea of the nature of Applejack’s foal-to-be.

“So, you think this is because you’re the Element of Honesty?” Derpy finally asked, pulling from her saddle-bags two more muffins. “Or do you think it is the new princess?”

“Huh? Twilight ain’t got nothing to do with foals.”

Derpy quickly shook her head, eyes spinning in counter directions. “No, not Twilight, her mom. I heard somepony saying she gave ponies foals.”

Applejack gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “Oh, yeah, her. She ain’t actually a Princess, from what I heard. She ain’t even a nice pony, really. From what I understand listening to Twi and everypony up in Canterlot, she’s something called a ‘Titan’.”

“What’s that?”

“I guess it’s what alicorns call themselves when they don’t listen to their cutie-marks or something.” Applejack shrugged, letting her disinterest speak through her shoulders and tone.

“But she’d probably know why or how your filly is a you-know-what?”

“I suppose so.”

“Then why don’t you send her a letter asking her how it could happen?” Rolling her eyes, Applejack began to protest, but Derpy pressed ahead. “You don’t have to tell her it is you, right? Be all, ‘I have a friend who is curious’, which is true. No lies there.”

Hesitantly, Applejack muttered, “I guess. But it don’t feel right. I feel sick to my stomach lying as is. This seems like a dang trick.” Pausing to take a deep breath, Applejack went back to looking up at the stars. “Besides, the how or why ain’t important. She is what she is; a... you-know-what. Has all three magics and everything, and them in spades.” A second pause before she asked, “What about yours?”

“Oh, pegasus,” Derpy gave a laugh. “After two unicorns, it’s going to be different. No magic flares, but I may wake up with her trotting across the ceiling.”

“Going to have both, and her breaking stuff with her hooves. Earth pony foals just don’t know their own strength,” Applejack chuckled as she stood and stretched, working the kinks out of her back from sitting too long. “Well, I better get home before Mac and Granny start to worry.”

Moving to hitch herself back to the wagon, Applejack was stopped as Derpy thrust a hoof up and said, “Shooting star.”

“Huh?” Applejack twisted to follow the pointing hoof, and spotting Sirius between a pair of old sycamores. “I’ll be, so it is. Bet Twi is having a fit right now. Can’t imagine it is her idea to have one come tumbling down.”

“You think the princess would be upset if we made a wish?”

Rubbing a hoof to her chin, Applejack said, “Not sure, but the stars either coming down, or it ain’t. Either way, I don’t see how a wish can hurt.”

“Well, in that case, I wish for my coming daughter to have a long, full, and interesting life.” Derpy gave a sharp nod to the star, not noticing as Pollux grew brighter.

“A good wish, I suppose,” Applejack said.

“Aren’t you going to make a wish?” Derpy asked as she stood.

“Nah, got everything I could wish for already.” Applejack tilted her hat to Derpy as they parted. “Thanks for cheering me up, means a lot to me. If you need anything in return, just give me a shout.”

* * *

The rich, heady scents of Timbucktu’s spice market filtered up into the late afternoon, coiling through vibrant gold, orange, and green awnings and up into a small apartment overlooking the distant port. A slight shuffling and the click of tumblers from the small door into the apartment announced the return of its single occupant. Pushing the door open, cursing as it struck a table, one of a few pieces of spartan furniture, the apartment’s owner entered his home.

He was a youngish griffon, his crest feathers having only just grown in, with a patch of missing fur near the base of his tail and the handle of a spoon sticking from his beak. Rolling the spoon around his tongue as he continued the stream of profanity, he slammed the door shut with a back paw and tossed a white vest over the back of a torn couch, clumps of stuffing and a couple springs jutting from its many wounds.

With only two rooms, the apartment was beyond small. The living room doubled as the bedroom, and the kitchen had a squat toilet shoved into a corner. Just having a working toilet was something of a luxury, most residents of the district making due with run down public facilities that were rank with urine and feces.

It was a small mercy that the young griffon was thankful to possess.

The only decoration in the room was a picture atop a small dresser, faded with age and tattered along one corner. In it were seven smiling faces, all young griffons in the white servants garb of the palace kitchens. Laying beside the picture was a crisp scroll.

Picking up the scroll, the young griffon went to the couch that served as his bed, and collapsing on it, he unrolled the parchment as he did every evening.

Dear Xendil,

Brother, I must make this letter quick. It is a mercy for my bravery that I have been permitted to write it at all.

You were right, we should not have heeded the griffon king’s call and gone home. The others all died in the battle, struck from the air by what can only be described as a fireball. They didn’t suffer, being near the center of the blast among the vanguard.

The survivors are calling it a blessing from the Gods, as the dead are mostly returned exiles, or Bloodrock soldiers. Fools. Stay away, little brother, this is a nation of madbirds and lunatics. Take care of Kiba, grow old, and live life to the fullest.

With love, Yinda

Returning the letter to it’s place beside the picture, Xendil made his way to a window, one looking up at the palace. Continuing his evening ritual, he closed his eyes and recited the prayer for strength taught to him by his broodmother.

“Heavens and sky, give me the courage and fortitude to carry through the days. Let my claws be swift, let my wings be sure, and let my eyes be sharp.” Xendil paused, then added a new line, “And give me the chance to—”

A knock on the door interrupted him. Scowling, Xendil crossed to the door, snarling, “What is it?”

“‘The swords of the past protect the future’.”

Shocked out of his anger, Xendil hastily opened the door. He was met by a rather pretty unicorn mare on the other side.

“Xendil Greyfeather, I presume,” she said, brushing back her tri-coloured mane before slipping into the tiny apartment.

“What are you doing here? I was told no-one would ever directly contact me,” he asked in a hushed whisper, gently closing the door.

“It couldn’t be helped, your contact was slain by the Grey Lord yesterday. We’re having to temporarily cease all activity in Zebrica. However, an opportunity is presenting itself that won’t again for years, if ever again.” The unicorn moved to a corner of the apartment, away from the windows and any possible prying eyes. “Princess Twilight Sparkle will be landing in Timbucktu within the next few weeks, a month at the most if she was becalmed.”

Xendil snapped up straight at those words, his face becoming as stone.

“Then... you are calling in my debt.”

“We are,” she confirmed, pulling out of a pocket dimension a slender package wrapped in a white cloth. As she gave it to him, the unicorn added, “If you do this we will be unable to assist you and will have to condemn your actions as those of a lone madbird.”

“I’ve known that since the beginning,” Xendil sneered, opening the cloth to reveal a griffon made dagger. Near the hilt was a Pride’s mark, scratched out so it was almost invisible, but enough remaining that under examination it would be visible. From the gold and gems set into the hilt and pommel, the dagger had to be worth a small fortune. Recovering the dagger, Xendil asked, “My remaining sister, she’ll be looked after, though?”

Looking up, he found his apartment empty except for him. He hadn’t even heard the hum of magic, and a small part wondered if the unicorn had even ever actually been in the room.

“Unicorns,” he snorted, placing the dagger into a hidden cubby beneath the dresser.

Moving to close the shutters of his window, Xendil smiled. He hated the control the Prench ponies had over him. A part of him knew that if he carried through with the implied orders there was nothing to compel them to live up to their side of the bargain he’d made all those years ago. Except that, for all the double-dealings and movements within the shadows, they’d always conducted themselves with a kind of honour.

There was little he could do regardless. His position within the palace, even as a lowly servant, meant that if his dealings with the Prench were discovered he’d find himself in the coliseum, if he were lucky. The mention of the Grey Lord was enough to make Xendil’s feathers itch. The right hoof of the Empress, the Grey Lord was renowned throughout Zebrica for his strength, loyalty to the Empress, and brutality.

At least, even if they did nothing more for Kiba, the Prench had taken the teenaged griffoness to Mareseille. She had been enrolled in a dance school, even. That had been the condition of Xendil’s assistance. It had been a sound bargain for the Prench, he knew. Not only did it cost them little gold —he cared nothing for money himself— it gave them an excellent bargaining chip to hold over him.

“The things we do for family,” he grunted, latching the first shutter. As he was closing the second, he noticed Sirius flash low across the horizon. “A shooting star, and I burdened with a grim task. I wonder if this is an omen, and if so, is it for good or ill?” Clicking his tongue, he decided it didn’t matter. “The ponies claim that to wish on a star is to invite fortune into your home. I will wish instead for the stars to bless my sister instead.”

As the second shutter was locked, Arrakis grew a minty green colour, the griffon’s wish tickling her. She’d long watched over Kiba, enjoying how the griffoness danced.

* * *

Like it had been hit by a cannonball, the door to Carousel Boutique was hurled open to the thunder of small hooves.

“I got a letter from mom!” Sweetie proclaimed as she ran first through the showroom, poked her head into the sewing room, and finding Rarity in neither, ran upstairs shouting her news again and again at the top of her lungs.

She found Rarity sitting in front of her vanity desk, eyes closed and in a meditative trance.

“Rarity! Rarity, I got a letter from mom!” Sweetie cried triumphantly as she hurled herself onto her sister’s bed, knocking Opalescence off in the process.

Hissing, the cat darted from the room.

Not looking towards the precocious filly, Rarity said, “Please, Sweetie, keep your volume to a respectable level. We are not barbarians about to besiege a city, after-all.”

“Okay, okay,” Sweetie grumbled, opening the letter as she spoke. “Want me to read the letter to you?”

“If it will keep you occupied, sure,” Rarity lifted comb as she spoke, running it slowly through her mane, counting each stroke.

Clearing her throat, Sweetie began.

To my dearest darling daughters,

I’m not sure if you got my previous letters. The packet’s have been unreliable this past while as the hostility between the Prench and Trotuguese continues to escalate. I know Captain Bartholomew Robber has been making a mess of things off the cape. The weather has been absolutely atrocious as well, with storm after storm.

We’ve been fortunate ourselves, having a near run just south of St. Agnes. Almost had a bad blow, it rolling down from the north.

“Rarity, what does that mean?”

“Mother ran afoul of the Hackney navy, Sweetie.”

“Oh, yeah...”

We slipped to the south just fine, however, and even managed to pick up some porcelain dolls from Brest.

“Dolls are...?”

“Passengers, typically political agents that can’t be seen as acting for one of the old kingdoms. Its part of how mother maintains her letter of marque.”

“Like spies?” Sweetie gushed, little hooves kicking as she gave a squeal of glee.

“Not usually. They fill a grey area between real agents and diplomats; a dirty necessity among the old kingdoms.”

“Right...” Sweetie muttered, not really understanding the nuances, but more interested in the letter than having a lecture on politics.

The ship had a sweet sail south and into the Mareterranean. Mr. Jibs is concerned about the mizzen. She’s still cracked after that storm we encountered off the Marelantians. I’m afraid I was a bit short with him, told him off more than I should have. I fear that this voyage is dragging on too long. I miss the two of you, and your father, of course, more than I can say in these letters. After we deposit these dolls, we’ll take a quick run back to the straits, maybe have words and trade mail with ol’ Robber, then we’ll head home.

Just weighed anchor in Bitraltar. Robber was there, as were Captains Smoke, Fletcher, and Whitey. We had dinner at the Merepony’s Tail and shared gossip and stories. Everypony was on edge at first, owing to the peculiarity of the stars. None of them had ever seen or heard of the like either, the way they move about. Strange times indeed are upon us, and I fear for ships and captains in unfamiliar waters. It was as we were polishing off the sixth bottle of port -Oh, you should have seen Robber’s face, his red coat had turned almost mulberry in colour! Ha-ha!- that Mr. Jibs came in, he having gone to visit the postmaster, with your letter.

Oh, I wish you’d been there to see all the captains faces when I read out that Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic, had become the Princess of the Stars. Robber and Smoke wanted to stagger back to their ships right then and set sail for Equestria! That would have been a treat! They are wanted ponies! I told them I was on my way home, hold filled with incense, tea, and rice we picked up in Marenilla, and if they kept their hooves to themselves and away from my ship, I’d be pleased to speak to my daughter, Lady Rarity Belle, about having a word with her good friend the new Princess about kindly having the stars behave themselves again so ships will be able to navigate at night once more.

Rarity let out a small giggle, followed by, “Oh, mother, really now?” under her breath as she set her comb down.

“I don’t get it,” Sweetie frowned down at the letter.

“Robber and her served as first and second mates, respectively, under Captain Grim Beard. They are old, old friends, but Robber sails for the Grand Hackney Queendom, as do Smoke, Fletcher, and Whitey. It’d have been completely legal for them to scoot out after her and make her a prize.”

“Then why she’d tell them about her cargo?”

“Because, they are all worried about how Twilight let’s the stars dance, Sweetie.”

“Oh! I get it now! Mom made them not want to take her ship.”

“Quite so,” Rarity said as she slid off her chair and made her way to her bed, laying down beside Sweetie as her sister returned to reading the letter.

Most interesting luck! Spotted a sail to the south this morning. Would have made for the north, but then the lookout said she was flying the royal pennant. Now, if that doesn’t twig a mariner’s curiosity, nothing will. Made all sail, and in short order we were coming up on ol’ Hardy’s stern. Had the gage with us. Could have put the helm over and grabbed them by the hip! Ha-ha! Instead, we ran down close enough that we could have reached out and shaken each others hooves. As I suspected, it wasn’t Celestia, Luna, or Cadence aboard her, but Twilight. Gave her your regards, naturally. Told her I’d give my daughters a hug for her, and that they were ‘Rare and sweet things’! Ha-ha! The look on her face, that was worth adding an extra couple days to the crossing, now that we have to beat and wear our way back north to avoid the currents off the Marelantians.

Outside, darkness had fallen. Struggling to read, Sweetie asked, “Rarity, could you light a candle?” as she squinted at the loopy writing on the pages before her.

Rarity shifted, and a moment later a gentle glowing light fell across the bed.

“Thanks!” Sweetie chirped, once more plunging into the letter.

Mr. Jibs just reported the anchors set and we are comfortably moored in Baltimare’s harbour. I can see the Solar Majesty out my window, and beyond her the rest of the North Seas squadron. Seventeen ships-of-the-line, right there, and not one any the wiser of my presence. No, just a harmless Indiamare waiting to offload her cargo. I hear the bosun calling out to a barge pulling alongside.

It is your father! The rogue, never thought to see him on a ship again.

“You hear that Rarity, dad’s...” Sweetie’s eager voice trailed off as she turned to see her sister’s reaction to the letter, only to come face-to-face with a pair of brightly glowing eyes. “Rarity?”

“The other is gone, Aoide,” Not-Rarity sneered, slowly stretching like a cat.

“R-Rarity?” Sweetie repeated, edging towards the other side of the bed. “What’s going on?”

“Everything is going to be fine, Aoide,” Not-Rarity purred, hopping off the bed.

“Who is Aoide?” Sweetie asked, ears pressed flat, a tremor making her voice squeak.

“You are, of course...” Not-Rarity stopped at the base of the bed, lifting a brow above her luminescent eyes. “Unless... No... You are not my Aoide. I’d know, yes, I do know! You wear her face, but are not her... Changeling, you must be a changeling. That is what you are, yes!” Not-Rarity gave a snicker of triumph, then spun around, deep rage burning into Sweetie. “What have you done to her? What have you done to my Aoide? Answer me, Changeling, and I will make your death painless, though I can’t promise it will be swift.”

“You’re scaring me, Rarity.”

Heart catching in her throat, Sweetie tried to duck down far enough into her sister’s covers that she would disappear. It did no good as the monster that had been her sister advanced, eyes flashing red. Around the room, candles lit one after another, green flames clinging to their wicks.

“Not answering, are you?” Not-Rarity hissed, a dangerous smile lifting her lips. “Perhaps you will talk if I cut off an ear.”

Not bothering to try to suppress a scream, Sweetie darted forward, trying to reach the door. She barely made it off the bed before a sickly blue-black aura of magic gripped her, hoisting her into the air. A low growl filled the room as Sweetie was brought level with the thing that had been her sister. Not-Rarity gave a sneer, beginning to open her mouth to speak, then she faltered and dropped Sweetie.

Curling into a ball, Sweetie covered her face with her hooves, crying openly.

“Sweetie?” Not-Rarity almost whispered the filly’s name, the change in her voice from cruel and sharp as steel to soft and confused making Sweetie uncover her eyes. “You are Sweetie...” she continued, slowly backing towards the open window. “And this is not Gaea...”

Staggering against the windowsill, Not-Rarity gave a piercing shriek, her hooves tearing at her face. Laughing and crying, she threw back her head.

“Home,” Not-Rarity gave a hiccuping laugh, calling out into the night. “We wish to go home! Send us home! Please!”

Seeing her chance, Sweetie scrambled away. At the second floor landing, she looked between the stairs and her room. Not-Rarity’s manic voice filtering from her room pressed Sweetie forward. Taking the stairs two at a time, she raced into the boutique's backrooms.

“I curse you, Astraea! I curse you and your foals! Send me home, sister!” Not-Rarity’s voice echoed after Sweetie, chasing the filly into a storage cupboard filled with cloth scraps and half-finished abandoned dresses.

Shivering despite the warm summer night, Sweetie closed her eyes and prayed to Celestia that Not-Rarity wouldn’t find her.

* * *

“I don’t understand it, brother,” Zeus snorted, pacing along the edge of their cloud as his piercing blue gaze focused towards the east and the rising moon. “Why did they not come for us? Surely they know of what I’ve done. It cannot have gone unnoticed!”

Shrugging his shoulders for what felt like the thousandth time, Hades repeated what he had been saying the last few days. “Either they know and don’t care, or they are biding their time.”

“Or they want us to come to them,” Zeus declared, thumping down his hoof so hard the cloud on which they stood shattered. Wings spreading before they began to fall, Zeus gave Hades a sheepish grin, and said, “Whoops, don’t know my own strength!”

Rolling his eyes, Hades grumbled. “Ten thousand years old, and he acts like he’s two hundred.”

“I heard that!” Zeus called over his shoulder as he glided down towards a coastal cave.

As far as either brother knew, they were as far west as the continent stretched. The final spit of craggy land before having to cross the ocean. Cliffs overlooked the thunderous beat of waves, granite pillars thrusting from the water every few hundred yards. Dozens of caves covered the cliff faces where the softer limestone had been eroded by the endless beating of the rising and falling tides.

The brothers hadn’t been idle, Zeus going down among the mortal towns and villages disguised as a pegasus. At first he had simply flown into a town’s square, but found, much like back home, the townsfolk immediately ran into their homes. It didn’t take long to find out why, when Zeus came across a collection of papers with his, Hades, and Faust likenesses drawn on the cover.

Reading the paper, the Neighcelona Times, by the title in bold print, the brothers had discovered that they were to be considered extremely dangerous and that mortals were to avoid speaking to them. Hades was almost impressed that information on them had spread so far. Zeus chuckled, pointing at how in Hades’ depiction his horn had been broken off, and not just cracked.

Leaving Hades to stew among the wandering clouds, Zeus had gone down to the next town alone, and disguised. He came back with a frown on his perpetually smiling face.

“Celestia, Luna, and Cadence,” he grunted by way of greeting as he set onto the cloud. “They control a continent across the ocean.”

Hades simply shrugged at the names. They meant nothing to him.

“Their domains are the Sun, Moon, and Love, respectively,” Zeus continued, beginning the pacing that would last until he destroyed the cloud.

Zeus had gained Hades attention with that declaration.

Licking his lips, Hades said, “Makes sense. Hemera and Nyx couldn’t be responsible for this worlds day and night. And there is nothing stopping there being two alicorns of Love from existing at once.”

“It’s not proper,” Zeus thundered, pausing for a few moment in his pacing to glower at his brother. “What’s next? A second god of Storms? It isn’t done.”

Hades ignored his brother’s ranting, and instead went back to meditating. He needed to be calm in spirit and body for his horn to heal. It was the last Hades had spoken until the cloud’s destruction.

“Well, they are clearly not coming to us,” Zeus mused as they landed in front of the cave. “So I will go to them.”

Lifting a brow, Hades gave a cold chuckle. “You, alone? Yes, I can see you doing that. But, must I remind you brother, there are at least three of them, and only one of you. Two of them are Physicals as well. This won’t be like fighting an agitated Intangible. They are bound to the Sun and Moon, their power will be great.”

“Oh, you worry too much, Hades. Probably why you went grey first.”

“I formed with my silver beard,” Hades sneered, “You, as I recall, used to have a mane that shone like spun gold.”

“What, you mean like this?” Zeus concentrated for just a moment, his beard and mane going from stormy-grey to bright yellow with a hint of orange. “There we go, don’t look a century over a thousand.”

“Yes, just like that,” Hades deadpanned, turning his back to Zeus.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Hades.” Zeus said, sitting down beside his brother, returning his beard to it’s grey tones.

“Everything is a joke to you, Zeus,” Hades snapped, letting millennia of pent up anger hiss from his tongue. “Even your crown. You only cared about it because it was something I wanted. You never wanted to be King!”

“Now, see here Hades!” Zeus said, his own voice low and dangerous.

“No, I will not!” Hades eyes flashed with a dangerous light, spinning to face Zeus. “You stood idle while your children brought ruin to our world. A half dozen of our kind destroyed, more missing, the balance disrupted, mortals questioning whether we should be allowed to remain on Gaea. All under your tenure!”

“Do you not think I realise this?” Zeus bellowed, his great wings spread and mane whipping as a cold wind blasted into the cave. “I should have marched into Tartarus myself to wrench Nyx out of your grasp. But I thought to myself, ‘just leave him be, Zeus. A couple thousand years, maybe three, and he’ll realise his mistake and let her go. Nyx is a strong mare, she’ll be able to deal with him.’ My mistake has been trust. Trusting you, my children, and especially Hera. I should have known she was up to something when she suggested we have a vacation to the isle of Crete. Turn my back for a year and everything goes to ruin. Ares and that gang of his made a mess of everything. Soon as I hear from all those involved what transpired there will be a reckoning. Ares, Chranus, Niomedes, and Achlys will have much to answer for when I get home, but they’re punishment will still pale compared to what I’ve done to Hera. Conniving witch. You’re right, I’m being too passive still. It is time to remind all the worlds why I am the God of Storms!”

Spinning on his back hooves, Zeus took to the sky without another word and flew towards the west.

Throughout Zeus’ tirade, Hades had stood resolute. Now that Zeus had left, Hades sagged, letting his wings drape into the pools of salt water that dotted the cave floor.

Once more, Hades was alone. Zeus was gone. Artemis and Hecate were no more. Nyx had abandoned him. He had been rejected by both Achlys and Niomedes.

He was utterly alone.

A single tear fell from Hades’ eye, landing with a crystal chime upon the stone. He glanced at the impossible tear, but it was far from the second he’d shed in the last few years. With a simple motion of his hoof Hades swatted the offending tear into the ocean and once more cast his sight aloft. As he did he beheld a star begin to fall.

Watching the delicate flames of the descending light, Hades opened his heart.

As I sit where sea meets earth,

my heart is torn in two with memories,

like a sword cleft it in twain

spilling my sorrow as if it were blood!

The star sped up as it fell lower and lower, Hades voice mirroring the star’s descent.

I miss you so much,

so very, very much!

My Mates are gone!

My youngest daughter is dead!

I miss you all so much!

As the chorus finished, the first burst of magic echoed off the star. Spreading his wings, Hades lifted his head high, letting the song consume his entire being.

This anguish becomes an anchor,

that weighs the soul with your loss!

I wish I could see you again, look into your midnight eyes,

To say I'm sorry and hug you for the first time!

I miss you so much,

so very, very much!

My Mates are gone!

My youngest daughter is dead!

I miss you all so much!

The sword pierces deeper and deeper every day,

that I did not let you spread your wings and fly!

Dearest Daughter, I have wronged you so,

And never could I make amends for those callous wounds!

I miss you so much,

so very, very much!

My Mates are gone!

My youngest daughter is dead!

I miss you all so much!

The star drew closer and closer. Just as the star was overhead, his eyes flashed open, staring straight into the tempest above and in his heart.

Hear my plea, oh falling star,

Bring back to me my lost child!

Let me make amends,

Let me at least say good-bye!

Closing his eyes, he repeated the chorus twice more, and then let the song fade away on the ocean breeze. As the last note of his song drifted away, the star fell beyond the hills.

Hades sat, the sea gently lapping at his hooves, feeling utterly drained. He had not the strength to lift his head. More of those impossible tears flooded from his repentant eyes, creating a chiming music upon the stone. If he had, he would have seen Mintaka and a hundred of the stars glimmer a little brighter, their tears falling first among all the stars that night.

How long he sat there, Hades did not know. A few minutes or years, it would have been the same to him.

It wasn’t until a voice, gentle and hesitant, whispered through the cave that he stirred.

“Pappa?”

The word spoken so softly wrenched on Hades heart and head, swinging the latter around to face the voice’s source.

“Artemis?” he whispered, his own voice almost catching in his throat at the sight of her.

She was a pale, ghostly thing, legs and tips of her wings ending in tendrils of fog, but Artemis was unmistakable. She looked around the cave, confusion knitting her brows together as she glided forward.

“This isn’t Tartarus or Elysium. Where are we?”

“The where doesn’t matter, little nightingale. Only that you are here,” Hades said, hooves wrapping around Artemis’ smokey form. “I am so sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t tried to hold onto your mother or you. If I hadn’t let fear and greed rule me. If I had acted more like a real father. Then—”

“Shh,” Artemis hushed, burying her face into her father’s mane. “It doesn’t matter now. What was done cannot be undone. Not without great cost. Our time will also be short, and I fear for Fluttershy.”

“Who?” Hades paused, then shook his head. “No, not important. Now that you are here I can save you. I can bring you back to life.”

“No, pappa, you can’t,” Artemis gave her own head a sad shake, the wispy fog of her mane drifting away in large clumps before reforming.

“I will give all that I have, all that I am! There must be some way that I can bring you back.”

Squeezing her father tighter, Artemis quieted Hades with a simple look.

“Astraea broke the rules trying to save us, and we’ve been breaking the rules since. She slew a dozen stars to create the conditions for a wish. Our bodies were left behind while our spirits were torn into tatters and dragged here, leaving parts behind. Only the fillies were spared.”

“The fillies?”

“Tyr, Shyara, and she without a name.”

“Oh, yes, them.” Hades hesitated, knowing there was something else he was supposed to say, but unsure what it was. Groping at a possibility, he asked, “they are safe, though?”

Artemis lifted an ear, and said, “Tyr is safe with the alicorns of this world. I know not what became of the others. I lost track of them. Twilight knows, I believe. It is she who has granted us this chance to speak.”

“Ah.” Hades grew silent again, the cave slick with his sullen despair. Growling, he finally stated, “There is no way to save you, is there.”

“Not without killing Fluttershy, and I refuse to murder an innocent to save myself, pappa.”

Hades began to pace, kicking at the loose stones on the ground.

“Surely there must be something... This Fluttershy, she is one of the alicorns protecting Tyr, yes?”

Artemis hesitated, and in that hesitation Hades learned all he needed to know.

“She is a mortal?” he cried, wings flaring and magic crackling and sparking along his damaged horn. “You would allow yourself to vanish for the sake of a mortal?”

Sighing, Artemis embraced her father in a hug, soothing his anger with a gentle stroke of her incorporeal hoof.

“Fluttershy is not just any mortal, pappa. She is Kindness and Mercy made flesh. I have already decided to give all I was and would have been to her. She argues and wishes to sacrifice herself for me, though she has little reason to do so. She doesn’t realise she is giving me a gift she can not comprehend, and I am stealing something from her, that when she learns what its loss means, she will despise me for taking from her.”

“What could a mortal have that you would desire, daughter?” Hades snorted, contempt rolling from him in waves.

“Her mortality.” Artemis smiled. “I will truly die and travel to Elysium. What other Alicorn can claim that prize?”

At a loss, Hades was silent and contemplative before whispering, “None. Elysium is not for our kind. But you won’t remain there forever. Eventually you’ll enter the Font and be reborn.”

“Yes, in a thousand, or ten thousand, years.” Artemis gave a gentle laugh, its musical notes melting through the sadness that clung to Hades’ heart. “My cousins Demea and Clouthea have decided to skip Elysium and go straight to rebirth. If I hadn’t been so worried for Tyr, and had I been given the opportunity, I would have done the same. Now, it is my half-sisters that worry me.” Again, Artemis shook her head. She then gave Hades a look that he had never seen before. Her eyes grew large and frightful, making him feel like he was a colt again, when the worlds were nascent and unborn. He trembled slightly beneath Artemis gaze, and knew that no matter what she said, he would obey. “Pappa, you have to save them. They are both twisted and will become Nightmares unless their present courses are stopped. Serene has done as I have and taken a mortal host, but she refuses to relinquish her hold. Every day they grow closer and closer to falling. I do not know what has become of Astraea, only that she made the attempt to steal a mortal’s shell. Promise me, pappa, promise me you will save them.”

“Of course I will!” Hades snorted, the stare breaking and his thoughts returning to a semblance of normalcy. Releasing the hug, Artemis began to drift towards the entrance of the cave, and the sky beyond, but stopped as Hades asked, “Where did you learn to do that? I have never encountered such a power before.”

“A talent of dear Fluttershy, and one of the greatest weapons this, or any, world has ever seen.” Artemis gave her musical laugh, drifting away once more.

“Please, don’t go,” Hades pleaded, making to follow, spreading his wings to fly after the specter.

“I have to, pappa. Tonight pushed things to happen earlier than expected. I won’t be gone long, and when I return, no matter who I become, I will still love you.”

Sniffing, wings falling so the tips dragged in the dirt, Hades said, “You know that will be impossible. You will forget me, and perhaps that is for the best. You deserve better than I gave you.”

At the cave’s mouth, hovering over the water gently lapping against the rocks, Artemis sighed. “I always knew you loved me, I just wished for my freedom to make my own choices, for good or ill. If you take another wife, if you have another foal, remember that lesson.” Artemis paused, turning to look over her shoulder. “Oh, those are beautiful,” she whispered, drifting higher, “I always thought the stories of the lights were a golden lie...”

Hades lifted a hoof and called Artemis’ name, but it was too late.

She was gone.

Lifting himself into the air, Hades gave a silent wail, pouring all his pain and anguish into the world. And though there was not a sound, all those who lived and breathed for miles around would claim to have heard something. Every star in the sky felt it’s gaze drawn to the cave, and watched in wonder as the last tendrils of their fallen sister’s magic was pulled to its mouth. Around him the cave trembled, the ocean stilled, and when he dropped back to the ground Hades was whole and reformed, horn unbroken, mane smooth as silk.

Looking into a mirror of water, he whispered, “And so I am remade, my dear Artemis. I will do as you ask. I will find those who led you to your demise, and I shall save not just them, but all our kind.” In a flash of magic, he called forth his bident, thrusting the weapon’s butt into the stone. “All those who seek to oppose me, let them fear my tread and name; for I am Hades, the undisputed Lord of the Dead, and I will not be denied.”

Bident at his side, Hades took to the east.

He had a filly to retrieve.

* * *

With a resounding crack, Zubu’s staff fell across the side of Gilda’s beak, sending the gryphoness skidding through the dirt. Tutting softly, Zubu limped up to her and offered her a helping hoof.

“You still have trouble with shields,” he stated, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing at that moment. “Fast on paws, slow in thoughts. Need to be faster,” Zubu punctuated the last statement by taking another swing with his staff, the jungle echoing with another crack.

“Ow! That one hurt,” Gilda muttered, rubbing the top of her aching head.

“Wouldn’t hurt if you cast shield spell,” Zubu chuckled, shuffling to his hammock.

It had not failed to grab Gilda’s attention that over the past couple weeks Zubu had been taking more and more breaks, his breathing wet and ragged. Grunting, he tried to climb into his hammock, a stream of curses flowing from his muzzle as he struggled with the swinging net.

“Here, let me help you, master,” Gilda said, swiftly move to his side, and with a little push, boosting him up.

Harrumphing, Zubu laid his mangled leg across his chest and turned his head so he could watch Gilda train. “Too old, Zubu is too old,” he said around a hacking cough. Spitting a gob of yellow-green phlegm onto the dirt, he pointed with his good hoof to the hut. “Bring me my pipe, Gilda. Your old master needs to speak with the spirits.”

Rolling her eyes, she did as asked. Returning with his pipe, a pouch of herbs, and a pungent red potion.

“Zubu doesn’t need your vile concoctions,” he protested, scowling at bottle.

Snorting, Gilda uncorked the lid and pushed it towards his muzzle. “And you said I was getting better,” she said as she placed a claw on her breast, right above the wide scar, in false pain.

“Better be not good,” he grumbled, taking the drought nevertheless. Reaching for the pipe, he found it held just out of reach. “Apprentice, give your master his pipe! The spirits wait and the pain circles like spotted-cats.”

“No,” Gilda stated, placing the pipe on a table beside the beaded door. “Mixing Iboga with—”

“Yes, yes... Can cause the endless sleep. You are right,” Zubu grumbled. “I am cursed to have a slow, but wise, apprentice.”

“Hey! I’m not slow!” Gilda gave a playful snarl, but Zubu didn’t hear it, already having drifted off to sleep.

Seeing Zubu had fallen asleep, Gilda let her features slide into a worried scowl. Retrieving a blanket from the hut, she covered her master before returning to the cleared area. Taking up a light toned staff —willowy and supple, with a decent heft— Gilda spent several hours practicing, repeating over and over the runes, timing, swing, and energy flow of the spell. She’d been doing the same the past week, and little progress had been made. Gilda had long come to the conclusion that she wasn’t suited towards Abjuration spells and defensive magic in general.

Frustration began to build by the third hour. She couldn’t understand why she had such a hard time with the necessary runes. Every time she had to remember each one individually and how to put them together. The spell would complete, a glimmering orange disc the size of a barrel lid forming in the air, but it took too long and such a small shield would hardly protect her.

After a particularly poor performance, the shield formed about the size of a tea saucer, Gilda let out a shriek, spun, and blasted a tree stump with a torrent of flame.

“What’s wrong with me?” she snarled, tossing down the staff and going to pick up a different one —sturdy and heavy, with a dark sheen and feathers tied to the head— to start practicing all over again.

“Nothing,” Zubu chuckled. Gilda suspected he’d been watching her practice for some time, maintaining his silence and facade of sleep. “Not everyone good at all spells. Zubu used to be terrible with enchantments and potions. Too much like cooking... potions...” A long, wet chuckle shook the ancient shaman. “With practice, Zubu got good with it. Don’t let talent with destructive magic fool you. Takes years to learn magic. You’ve come far in short time. Be proud. You are indeed the Magnificent and Wise Zubu’s apprentice. Zubu chooses well, mm hm.”

“I suppose,” Gilda conceded, running the talon of a thumb along the staff. “I hate all this sitting and learning,” she said for the thousandth time since becoming Zubu’s apprentice.

“So you say each morning and evening.” Zubu rolled out of his hammock, and shuffled up to Gilda, laying his good hoof on her shoulder. “But, sooner than you need, you’ll have to decide for yourself what to do. Stay and learn, or seek vengeance. One leads to contentment, and moments of happiness, too. The other... dark is that path, Gilda, shouldn’t let it consume you.”

“It’s all I have,” she snarled. “The dream of sinking my talons into the General’s smug face.”

“Hmmm,” Zubu shook his head, but didn’t say anymore. They’d had the same conversation a dozen times. It didn’t need repeating again.

Losing herself in thoughts of vengeance, Gilda stared up through the jungle canopy at the glittering stars. She hadn’t been aware of the sun setting and the night beginning, but that wasn’t unusual.

“I wish I had a sign that all this training is worth it,” Gilda let out a long sigh, flexing her talons on her practice staff.

“Hmmm.”

“Still, if the dorks in the aerie are afraid of magic and it makes getting to Talona easier, can’t be bad.”

“Hmmm.”

“You going to sit there humming to yourself all evening?” Gilda cocked a brow.

“Hmmm?”

“Nevermind.” Gilda rolled her eyes, starting towards the hut while turning over in her mind what to make for dinner.

Leak and warthog stew sounded good, with a few sweet-roots and a dash of oregano. Zubu couldn’t have the warthog, so maybe some carrots, lentil beans, and millet dumplings to add some body.

Licking her beak in anticipation, Gilda failed to notice the low rumble overtaking the jungle. She didn’t fail to see the bead door dancing. Tilting her head, she muttered, “What on Ioka?” moments before a bright flash burst overhead followed by a trail of flames just above the treetops. Not a heartbeat later, a second flash illuminated the jungle followed by a wave of wind and a rumble that almost knocked Gilda off her paws.

“Apprentice! Go!” Zubu ordered, his staff thrust towards the direction the object had fallen.

Not needing to be told twice, Gilda burst up into the sky, skimming along the canopy. It didn’t take her long to reach the impact site. She had a moment of deja vu as she circled the location, right on the jungle’s perimeter with the plains. Small fires burnt throughout a shallow crater. Just as Gilda was about to flip over and head back into the jungle, movement caught her eye. Furrowing her brows, she took a slow pass, scanning the crater’s heart. She spotted it again. In the flickering flames all she could make out was that it was pony shaped and sized, and struggling to its hooves.

“If this is another alicorn filly...” Gilda muttered to herself as she backwind to land at the crater’s edge.

Setting down, her talons hardly making a whisper in the long grass, she went low, stalking slowly forward. Darting from cover to cover, and avoiding the dying flames, Gilda crept up on whoever it was that she had spotted. Peaking over she got a good look into the heart of the crater.

It was indeed a pony, though at least she was a full grown mare and not a filly. A pegasus as well, and not an alicorn, though Gilda couldn’t see the pony’s brow very well. She could have a stunted horn. Her mane and coat were the same almost cream-like colour, but with blues, greens, and purples glimmering whenever she moved. Pearls, her mane and coat was like pearls, Gilda decided, shifting a little to the side to get a look at her face. She almost let out a sigh when she saw that, yes, the pony was just a pegasus. No horn parted the tightly curled mane that framed a sharply angular face. Her new position also gave Gilda a chance to see the pony’s eyes; a blue so dark they were almost black in the night.

“How do they walk with four legs?” the pony groaned to herself, standing on wobbly hooves. “And wings? I have wings? Huh... Better than a horn, I suppose. Or worse, an Earth Pony. That would have been ironic. Sirius, the Firestar, Earth Pony!”

The name pricked at Gilda’s ears, making her stand up and clear her throat.

Stiffening, the pony’s wings flipped out into a threatening display Gilda knew all too well. It was far from effective. The pony gave a cry as she toppled over, unbalanced by the sudden movement.

“Oh, by Andromeda, Libra, and Gemini!” the pony cursed, struggling to right herself.

Trying not to laugh, Gilda strutted up to the pony. Offering a talon, she asked, “You alright, small-fry?”

“Small-fry? I’m Sirius!” the pony snapped, nevertheless taking the offered talon.

“Sirius, right. The star.” Gilda gave the pony a deadpan stare.

True, she admitted that the facts she possessed indicated a strong possibility that the pony was Sirius. Or, it was a very clever trick. Gilda couldn’t think why anypony would go to such lengths to trick her. That didn’t discount the idea, just made it unlikely.

“You’re Gilda, yes?” Sirius queried.

“Maybe, what’s it too you?” Gilda turned her stare into a threatening glower.

“I’m looking for her and Zubu, last of the Delphi Shamans. Though, since he is training her, she’ll technically become last of the Delphi Shamans. Well... maybe not. She’ll lack the cultural roots. I guess that would make her a Delphi trained Shaman and... I’m babbling! Huh, I’ve never babbled before. Or talked, with lips... This is fascinating...”

Lifting her forehooves, Sirius began to poke and pull at her narrow muzzle.

No, Gilda decided, this wasn’t a trick. There wasn’t a pony crazy enough to pull such a stunt.

“Lips are so fascinating. I never imagined they’d be so smushy. What an interesting word, ‘smushy’, but it perfectly fits.” Blinking her midnight blue eyes, Sirius swung her head around. “Something’s wrong. My heart feels funny. Tight. Like it is being pinched? And I want to run... away... now!”

At that she leapt forward, went two strides, then fell muzzle first into the dirt.

Rolling her eyes, Gilda picked up the groaning pony. With a single flap of her wings, Gilda carried both aloft and over the jungle. They were long gone by the time a patrol from Southstone approached and cordoned off the area.