Myths and Birthrights: The Archive

Myths and Birthrights

By Tundara

Part Three: Ghosts of the North

Chapter Eighteen: Regrets

The clatter of pots being knocked over followed by a stream of curses in Equestrian, peppered with a few choice words in Zebran, woke Zubu from his normal afternoon nap with a start. Rolling from his hammock, he found a state of complete destruction filling his hut. Pots were strewn across the floor. Vials and bottles of his precious reagents lay shattered.

A broken clay urn resting atop her head as if it were a hat, Sirius sat in the middle of the hut, while the cauldron Zubu used to craft his potions and cook dinner was rolling towards the door.

“Why is walking so hard?” Sirius lamented, tossing her hooves. “You make it seem so… simple.”

She tried to cross her hooves, but ended up falling onto her back, wings splayed in the puddle of spirits, preservatives, and leftover soup.

“Walking is simple, silly star.” Zubu chuckled, grabbing one of his staves and hobbling to the door. “You just put one hoof before the other.”

“I do that and I end up back in the dirt.” Sirius grumbled at the shaman’s back.

“Then you do it wrong. Get up. Try again. Only way to succeed.” Zubu’s tail flicked with impatience as he left his hut. As the beads swung in his passing, Zubu muttered beneath his breath. “Silly star, leaving her place to come here. Should know better. Supposed to be smart. Wise. Silly star.”

Outside he found Gilda practicing the latest spell formula he had taught her. A simple variation of shock spell that coated her talons in arcing electricity. Given Gilda’s disposition towards the physical, Zubu knew she’d appreciate the spell, and his intuition had proved true. She had even learned to cast it without the use of her staff; a feat Zubu wouldn’t have believed possible in one so new to the training. Gilda was a prodigy with Invocations. Shame she was terrible at pretty much everything else except alchemy. Her potions were passable.

He suspected it had to do with how she actually liked to cook. Gilda tried to hide it, but he noticed it most nights when he offered to make dinner. She usually made an excuse, offering to cook while he rested. Given the constant aches, and that she actually made a good root stew, Zubu was content to play along.

“Apprentice. That foolish star you found has made mess of hut again. Help her clean it up.”

“Yeah, whatever, in a moment.” Gilda gave a short huff, concentrating on her talons. “I finally got it, Master. Heart and Head. Just like you—Ow!”

The heavy crack of Zubu’s staff connecting with Gilda’s head echoed through the jungle. Hissing in consternation more than pain, Gilda reflexively brought her talons up to rub her head. A second yelp rang out as the shock spell discharged into her crest feathers.

“Now, Apprentice,” Zubu snapped, limping towards a path leading deeper into the jungle.

“Ow, sheesh, alright,” Gilda said in a low growl. “What’s your problem anyways?”

“Zubu’s problem is silly stars. Zubu’s problem is apprentice practicing wrong spells. Told you to practice shields. Shocking touch spell not shield.” Zubu’s tail snapped left and right as he spoke, his words a low, threatening growl.

“Why are you so mad at her, anyways? She came down to help us.” Gilda asked, pointedly ignoring Zubu’s comments about her.

“No, she came down because of vanity and foolish pride. Stars belong in sky, not on disc. This is not her place.”

“You didn’t seem to mind her helping before.”

“Different then. She not fall. A star falling is a sad thing, Gilda, and a bad omen. Nothing good has followed a starfall.” Zubu sighed, pulling aside a broad leaf with his staff.

“Uh Huh.” Gilda just shrugged, used to Zubu’s surly ways.

Zubu didn’t stay to see if Gilda would do as she had been told or not. He suspected she’d dither about for several minutes, probably practice her invocations a bit more, and by late afternoon get around to cleaning up the hut and assisting the foolish star.

Slowly, he made his way down to a narrow brook, the clear waters bubbling happily over worn rocks. At the bank he found an old fire-pit, one not used in a long time. Some of the stones used to make the ring had been moved or lost; by who or what Zubu didn’t care.

Reforming the ring with stones from the brook, Zubu sat down, using his staff to ignite a small flame within the pit. The flames grew until they were a little larger than a zebra in size, bright orange around the edges with a blue-white core.

Placing the tip of his staff within the flames, Zubu called up a complex spell matrix, expertly weaving a dozen runes together. At the spell’s completion the flames grew higher for a couple moments before dimming to a more normal size.

Gilda’s preoccupation with destructive magic and vengeance weighed more and more on Zubu’s old heart. He knew intimately the darkness her path entailed. The sadness, misery, and in the end either vanishing in a flash far too young, or slowly withering away, consumed by bitterness. Worse, nothing he said seemed to get through her overly thick griffon skull. It had to be the extra thick brow ridge for surviving crashes that was the source of griffon stupidity.

Sighing, and wondering again what he had done to deserve such an apprentice, Zubu turned his attention to the dancing orange flames.

A beautiful, youth-filled yellow face stared back. The filly’s features were odd; her muzzle shorter and eyes larger than Zubu was used to seeing on a filly’s face. Likewise, her mane was different, red like cherry blossoms, and falling over the top of a broad, strong brow and down to the nape of her neck, held in a bow a few shades pinker. Those large, yellow eyes grew larger still, the filly’s mouth falling open into a wide ‘O’ as she gazed up out of the fire.

“There’s a face in my fire!” the filly exclaimed, though Zubu had some difficulty making the meaning out with her thick accent. Still, tone carried much weight, and the filly’s voice spoke of her youth, energy, and compassion.

“No, you’re in my fire!” Zubu quickly countered with a smirk, used to similar comments from first time users of the fire-talk spell.

“No I ain’t!” the filly quickly retorted, her face contorting into a frown. “Wait, are you one of them Ifrits Zecora told me about?”

“Does Zubu look like a fire-lion?”

The filly seemed to consider his words, before rapidly nodding her head.

“Gah! You worse than stupid cat-bird!” Zubu threw up his hooves with a groan. “Is your master there? Zubu needs to speak with her.”

“Oh yeah, one moment.” The filly turned her head to speak to someone else nearby. “Hey! Zecora! There is a strange head in the fire that wants to talk with you!”

The filly’s head vanished from the flames to be replaced by a far more familiar one. Zecora looked older, and even more beautiful than when he’d last seen her. Her unusual blue eyes sparkled as they settled on Zubu. She had let her mane down, the spiky mohawk replaced by bouncing black and silver tresses that framed her face.

“Zubu, friend of old, it has been long since you called,” Zecora said, the corners of her eyes lighting into a smile.

“Has it?”

“Seven years it has been, since your face I have seen.”

Mulling over dates, seasons and events, Zubu supposed Zecora was correct. Had it really been that long? Seemed like only yesterday the two had parted company, Zecora taking passage aboard a small sloop destined for the Marelantians.

“You’ve taken an apprentice, I see,” Zubu said after being quiet for too long.

“Yes, indeed. Little Apple Bloom, will take her rites soon. She is strong and quick to see, a most able shaman, she will be.”

Zecora’s smile broadened, and Zubu could feel the fondness his old friend carried for her apprentice. It warmed his bones more than the flickering flames, and almost brought out a grin.

“That’s good. Very good, indeed. Zubu’s apprentice is stubborn, ill-tempered, and intent on walking a dark path, it seems.”

“So, the saying holds true, ‘like master, like apprentice’, for you?” Zecora chuckled, giving Zubu a wink.

“Too much so.” Zubu chortled, rocking onto his haunches. The chortle quickly turned into a hacking cough. When he looked back up he saw concern written across Zecora’s angelic face.

“You are not well,” she said, and for once not following with a rhyme.

“My time’s almost over. It’s done what the Empress couldn’t. I am trying to last long enough to finish the bulk of Gilda’s training, but no one, not even Zubu, can cram several years into a few months.” Zubu’s voice trailed off as his reality circled closer. He could see Death stalking him, a black feline shape always waiting in the shadows to pounce. Returning to the task at hoof, Zubu asked, “Zecora, Zubu have a favour to ask of you. After Zubu is no more… take care of Orenda for him, yes? She’s been instructed to find you when… When Zubu crosses the veil.”

Zecora sadly nodded her head. “We will watch over her, my dear friend. She will have a forest and fields to play in without end.”

“Thank you, old friend.” Zubu said, his bones creaking as he stood. “Now, Zubu has to return to his hut to deal with silly Firestar and his apprentice. Till we meet again.”

Ending the fire-talk spell, Zubu turned to make his way home, only to be stopped by a sharp voice emanating from the brook.

“So, you’re going to leave, just like that? No goodbye? No tearful farewells? Just, an empty hut?”

“You’re back, then,” Zubu muttered, an ear flicking to a sound like water sloshing in a barrel. He didn’t need to look to know the brook was rising up, growing a head and legs. He still did anyways, and smiled as the water took the form of a lithe, three tailed fox. “Where have you been, Orenda? Old Zubu been stuck with ignorant apprentice and silly star for days now, alone. No one with sense to talk to.”

“I was following that shade,” Orenda said, the fox’s tails flicking in agitation.

“Oh? And where has she gone without the star to provide a mouth?” Zubu turned, sitting down with a soft ‘whump’.

“Zerubaba.”

A shiver of rage and cold fear worked its way along Zubu’s spine at the name, his face falling into a terrible scowl.

“What could any decent spirit or being have to do in that cursed city?”

The fox shrugged, canting her ears to one side. “I can’t really say. An Ifrit caught me snooping before I could discover much. I did see it was the Empress that the spirit visited.”

“What role does that butcher have to play?” Zubu wondered, then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Too much to do, too much to worry about already. Have to finish as much of Gilda’s training before my end.”

“Ha! You can’t die, Zubu,” Orenda snorted. “You’re too cranky to let Death take you.”

“If only it were so,” laughed Zubu. “But all mortal things die. It is our defining trait! Ha-ha!”

As Zubu continued to laugh and chortle to himself, Orenda said in a near whisper, “I won’t do it, you know.”

“Hmm?”

Orenda started to say something, then seemed to change her mind, mouth closing with a snap.

“Nevermind then.” Zubu grunted as he began the short journey back to the hut. “No time for regrets. Not with so much to be done. Come, old friend, let’s start this final adventure, yes?”

* * *

Applejack snorted, lifting a hoof to adjust one of the dozen picture frames that lined the walls of the living room. Everything needed to be perfect for that night, more-so than usual.

The food needed to be perfect. A pot of vegetable stew bubbled happily over the stove, while a couple salmon baked in the oven. Applejack found the smell of the cooking fish to be borderline revolting, and had gone so far as to open every window and door in the house in order to invite a breeze to blow the smell away. It had proved only partially effective. A couple pies for dessert sat on the windowsill cooling down

Likewise, her family needed to be perfect. Applejack would be the first to defend her family most days, but she was well aware of their idiosyncrasies. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had been ordered to have baths after finishing their chores. Even Mac and Granny Smith had been ordered to make themselves presentable, both doing so with no small amount of suspicion. They were aware that Applejack’s special somepony was going to finally be introduced, and they’d been making plans.

This frightened Applejack. Made her hooves tingle and her back wobble, while sweat beaded along her brow. Still, neither had seen Applejack in such a delirious state of anxiety before to find ‘perfection’, not even at the most recent Apple Family Reunion. There was little Applejack could do to dissuade either from making a scene, and so she just prayed to Celestia repeatedly to give her the strength to see the night through without making a scene herself.

That left the farmhouse. Applejack had been in cleaning mode since the previous dawn. At first she tried to enlist Bloom and Sweetie, but that idea had been abandoned five minutes after the ‘Cutie Mark House-Cleaners’ got finished almost destroying the main bathroom. The housecleaning served a second purpose, keeping Applejack from wondering where and what had become of Rarity.

Celestia had appeared earlier that morning to speak to Sweetie. She’d taken the filly aside, sitting beneath an old sycamore that shaded the back porch. The Apple family sat, waiting and wondering what news the princess carried, all painfully aware it could not be good from the sadness in her eyes. Their guess had been proved correct when Sweetie had begun to wail and scream. The filly even went so far as to kick Celestia’s forelegs, crying for her to bring Rarity back.

The princess had simply sat there as Sweetie pounded her anger and despair upon her. When the filly at last tired, she wrapped Sweetie in a wing and drew her close to her breast. She whispered something Applejack couldn’t hear, and then pulled out the box that contained the Elements of Harmony. From the box, Celestia retrieved the Element of Generosity.

“You need to be strong for your sister, Sweetie Delilah Belle,” Celestia said, just loud enough for the cluster of ponies watching the pair to hear. Slipping the Element around Sweetie’s neck, Celestia kissed her just above her horn, and then approached Applejack.

“Rares ain’t coming back, is she,” Applejack stated, the finality in her voice wearing on Celestia’s already cracking mask.

“It’s hard to say,” Celestia admitted. “Twilight made a grievous mistake. It was an honest one, but that doesn’t alter the facts.”

“And what’s that, princess?” Applejack could do little to hide the bitterness in her heart. “That one of my best friends sent another one of my best friends to a place so bad that even your kind don’t want to be there?”

“Applejack!” Granny Smith snapped, her brow pressed into a hard line. “That ain’t any way to talk to the Princess!”

“No. It’s alright, Edith.” Celestia waved Granny Smith down.

“Darn it, it ain’t right! Nothing has been these past few years. First Nightmare Moon, and don’t get me wrong, I am really glad Luna’s back, but that was a near thing, princess, a very near thing. Where would we be if Twilight had failed?”

“I had total confidence in Twilight,” Celestia gave a slight laugh, her eyes growing momentarily distant. “My sister’s return was the only time I knew in advance what would happen.”

“You did?” Applejack rocked back on her hooves, perplexed. She then gave her head a sharp shake. “Course you did. Ain’t important, though, as none of us knew that. But what about Discord? Or that affair with them changelings? How’d that Chrysalis get the best of you, princess?”

As she spoke, the fire in Applejack’s belly rose higher and higher. She knew it was wrong, but all the pent up fear and frustration flowed out of her and onto Celestia.

“My sister and I were being poisoned.”

“That —wait, what?”

“A small dose of Mallebore in our tea every day over months. Enough that almost any other being would have died. On Luna and I, all it did was weaken us.” Celestia actually giggled, her wings flicking in amusement. “She must have learned of that trick from Cadence. Nightmare Moon used the same poison during our war. I just thought it was the stress of the wedding getting to me. I didn’t even think to check for poisons until after Cadence smote the changelings. A mistake it will take a long time for me to repeat.” Settling her wings, and her amusement passing, Celestia placed a hoof on Applejack’s withers. “Keep faith, Applejack, that Rarity will return. She’s about as stubborn and determined as you.”

“Yeah, she is, ain’t she?” Applejack chuckled as tears rimmed her eyes.

Little more was said that Applejack heard, her mind growing distant as she worried for Rarity. Celestia had hardly spoken with Granny Smith and Mac, just a few words, and then she left.

Throwing herself into preparations for the dinner party, or soiree as Rarity would have called it, helped keep Applejack focused. She toured the house twice, running down a mental checklist. The table had been moved from the smallish kitchen to the living room to make space for all the ponies that would be attending. Flowers set as decorations and entrees. The good Neighpon dinner plates shone on the cream tablecloth.

Everything seemed to be in order.

And if it continued to go according to plan, this would be the night she told Soarin he was going to be a father.

Applejack trembled a little wondering what his reaction would be. They had only seen each other off-and-on over the years. Nothing really serious, as far as Applejack was concerned. Sure, some nights she’d lay awake in bed, her heart fluttering as she imagined a warm weight next to her, a leg draped across her barrel and holding her close. She could picture a string of foals —five of them— playing in the orchards while she and Soarin watched from the porch. The fantasy always left her with a goofy smile.

But Soarin was married first and foremost to his career. Applejack could understand and respect that; it wasn’t that different from her dedication to the farm. He only had a few more good years of flying before he’d have to retire from the stuntteam branch of the Wonderbolts. Applejack had looked it up, and the longest membership belonged to Sky Dive, and he’d been a stunt flier for seven years. The average was four years, and Soarin had been with the team five.

She’d been mollified even more when Soarin had explained that the familial nature of the pegasus legions meant that he was flying with relatives. He had a full-blooded sister on the team, and a half-sister. Applejack had only further equated his flying to how she felt about the farm.

A knock on the door broke Applejack from her thoughts.

Performing a frantic triple check of the dining set, Applejack let out a deep breath, stepped up to the door, opened it, and found Fluttershy and an unicorn she didn’t recognise.

She was an off-white, with two toned mane of straw yellow striped through a field of green. Her blue eyes shined above a wide smile. On her flank was a single, bright red poppy flower.

While the stranger gave Applejack pause, what really caused the gears in her brain to grind to a halt was that it was the old Fluttershy standing before her. The Fluttershy Applejack had known for the better part of a decade. The one without a horn and that didn’t spontaniously heal dying trees.

“Oh, hello, Applejack,” Fluttershy shrunk back from the quizzical look Applejack gave the pair. “W-We’re not early, are we?”

“No, you ain’t,” Applejack said, opening the door a bit wider. “Um, who's your friend, ‘Shy?”

“Oh! Um—”

“You can call me Forsythia,” the unicorn smiled wide, then looked around the room. “My, this is charming!” she exclaimed, scurrying along to look at the pictures on the wall.

“‘Shy, who in Celestia’s mane is that?” Applejack hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

“It’s, um… Iridia,” Fluttershy said in a barely audible whisper.

“Excuse me?” Applejack felt the blood drain a little from her face.

“S-She insisted!” Fluttershy’s wings buzzed a little as panic pressed down her ears. “She said she had to stay close for the spell making me look normal to work.”

“It’s okay, ‘Shy, I’ll just put out another place setting,” Applejack said, moving towards the kitchen while Iridia wander over to a bookshelf and pulled out a random book.

Trailing behind Applejack, Fluttershy apologized several times in rapid succession. “I just couldn’t leave her. She looked so sad when I told her it was a family dinner. The poor thing hasn’t stopped following me around the last couple days. I-I don’t think she’s had a friend in a long time. Y-You’re not mad, are you? I know this dinner is supposed to be special.” Fluttershy pressed her ears further back, if it were possible.

Suppressing a sigh, Applejack said, “I ain’t mad. I’m worried.”

“Worried? About what?” Fluttershy’s ears pricked forward in a combination of relief and curiosity.

Pressing her lips into a tight line, Applejack muttered, “Just want this to be a good dinner, is all. There’s nothing else.”

“Oh, I’m worried for her too.” Fluttershy extended a wing over Applejack’s back, her feathers tickling Applejack’s coat before tugging the farmer into a light hug. “But Princess Luna and Iridia are both confident that she will be fine.”

“I ain’t so sure,” Applejack said as she pulled the fish out of the oven, thankful Fluttershy assumed she was worrying about Rarity. “Did that Arty mare say much about what her home was like?”

Fluttershy’s face drained a little, her wings snapping back to her sides.

“I saw only a little. S-She… didn’t spend much time… She, well, she lived in Tartarus. Almost all of the memories I saw were, um, there.”

Applejack lifted a curious eye. “Tartarus? But, that don’t make no sense. Everypony knows that’s where the faithless and the worst ponies go. Why was she there?”

“Well, um, I’m not sure. Oh! But I do have some rather nice memories about a pony named Lethe. She was one of five rivers that flows through Tartarus. I’m, um, not sure how that works.”

“Probably the same way Celestia is the sun, Luna the moon, and our Twilight the stars, ‘Shy.” Applejack smiled, opening a bottle of apple brandy. She poured several glasses of the brandy, and then three of regular apple juice for herself, Apple Bloom, and Sweetie.

“M-Maybe. That makes sense, I suppose. The Underworld is a big place. There was one area called Asphodel Meadows. It was where ponies that were neither good nor bad went.” Fluttershy explained as she helped Applejack with serving the food. “There was also something below Tartarus. A prison, I think… I’m sorry, but I don’t have many of Artemis’ memories, and they are all jumbled up. Most are rather scary too.” A little shudder worked its way through Fluttershy, making Applejack bite her lip and feel a little guilty for prodding.

A sharp series of knocks on the door almost made Applejack jump.

“Oh, Celestia, he’s here. Soarin’s here,” Applejack gasped, dashing about the kitchen as a second set of knocks sounded, followed by Mac’s deep burr that he was coming and whoever was waiting should be patient. Hearing her brother’s voice, Applejack darted from the kitchen, skidded in front of Mac and forcing him back with a withering look. Pausing only long enough to straighten her hat, Applejack pulled the door open.

“Good evening,” Soarin said, brandishing his trademark grin like a sword. He wore his blue dress uniform, complete with polished medals and wonderbolt pins on his lapels. “I’m not overdressed, am I? You said it was a formal dinner, and I wanted to make a good impression.”

“No, its alright, better than alright,” Applejack returned his grin with one of her one, ushering him inside.

Almost immediately Soarin was stopped by Mac. An almost unreadable expression was on Mac’s face as he looked down at Soarin.

“You must be Big Macintosh,” Soarin said, offering a hoof.

Mac cast a slow glance down at the offered hoof. Behind Soarin, Applejack gave her brother a too wide smile, silently pleading with him to be nice. Lifting his own hoof at an almost glacial speed, Mac gave Soarin’s a bump.

“Eeyup,” was all he said, before moving to the table. Applejack’s breath of relief went unnoticed.

The tension hardly abated as the dinner began. As Matriarch, Granny Smith sat at the table’s head, her narrowed eyes boring holes into Soarin. Applejack sat to Granny Smith’s right, with Soarin beside her, and Mac across the table. Next to Mac was Fluttershy, with the fillies at the far end of the table with the disguised Iridia.

Conversation, such as it was, hummed mostly between Apple Bloom and Iridia, the former explaining to the latter all about potion brewing. Sweetie remained silent, pushing her food around her plate with her fork. Likewise, Fluttershy said very little, concentrating on her fish and stealing glances at Mac when she thought nopony was looking. Mac, never one for needless words at the best of times, spent his time providing support to Fluttershy. Granny Smith was the opposite, peppering Soarin with question after question. Soarin did his best to answer, while Applejack attempted to deflect the most pointed and mean-spirited ones.

Dinner was starting to wind down, Applejack losing the tension that had been making knots in her back all afternoon as the time approached when she could take Saorin aside and explain things to him. She wouldn’t call it a rousing success, but neither had it been a total disaster. Middle of the field. Normal. An okay evening. Naturally, this was when everything fell apart.

It was an innocent mistake that shattered the evening.

“Alchemy is an old and noble profession, little one,” Iridia said, giving Apple Bloom a little smile over the baked potato on her plate. She then cleared her throat to gather the attention of the rest of the table. “Everypony, I have a little announcement to make.” Seven sets of eyes turned to Iridia, most a little perplexed or perturbed. “I’ve decided to return home, and I was thinking of asking Fluttershy and Macintosh to join me.”

Mac simply tilted his head, while Fluttershy tried to shrink beneath the table, her cheeks blazing.

“It’ll be good for her to see the vales and the ancient trees they contain. Especially the World Tree. This will also give me a chance to further her training. I wouldn’t want to interrupt Fluttershy and Macintosh’s courtship, however, so the offer is contingent on them both coming.”

“Oh, um, thank you, I think,” Fluttershy said in a hesitant mutter, pressing herself against Mac. “We’ll have to—”

“Will this help ‘Shy with her little problem?” Mac asked, wrapping a hoof around Fluttershy.

“I see no reason why it wouldn’t.” Iridia quickly bobbed her head. “The Halla could be… concerned with Fluttershy, but I don’t believe even the most stone-bound Traditionalist would act against her. We’d be avoiding the Traditionalist at first, regardless. It would probably be best if I went to them alone, actually. They won’t take it well that I am reclaiming my throne, and then abdicating it to Twilight. Mind passing the buttered corn?”

“Why would you go through all that then, if you’re going to give the throne up, your majesty?” Soarin asked as he passed the bowl of corn. Applejack shot him a surprised glance, one he answered with, “Sorry, AJ. I knew who she was from the briefing reports given out just after Princess Twilight’s coronation. Not many prench unicorns in Equestria to begin with, and none with a poppy cutie mark.”

“Yes, Princess Luna keeps telling me the same thing,” Iridia said as she took the bowl. “And the reason is that once I finish Fluttershy’s training, I think I am going to go on a bit of a sojourn. I want to see how the disc has changed in this past age. I want to visit the graves of old friends and foes, and apologize for the things I’ve done. None of which I can do if I am either the Halla’s ‘prisoner’, or the Eternal Herd could form at the drop of a bit to come looking for me. Imagine that, a million or more halla running hither-thither across the disc, trampling anything that crossed their paths? No, no, that can’t be allowed. I also need to think of Twilight, and ensure her birthright.”

“Why would the Halla listen to you if they hate you so much, your majesty?” Applejack asked, frowning down the table.

“It’s only a very small segment that is dead set against me, actually. Most go along out of a sense of tradition, hence their name as Traditionalists, and fear. If I show them I’m a reformed mare, thanks to Twilight and Fluttershy, I’m sure I can bring them around.” Iridia stabbed her corn, lifting it up along with her eyes, fixing Applejack with a thunderous look. “And if they continue to be fools, I will bring a terrible wrath upon their idiotic heads.”

Applejack gulped, the room growing dark and trembling for a moment.

“What does that mean?” Sweetie asked, oblivious to the chill overtaking the table.

Perking her ears up, and giving Sweetie a gentle smile, all trace of hardness and anger vanishing, Iridia said, “I don’t know. I’ll come up with something though. The threat will hopefully be enough if they dig their hooves in. Halla can be rather stubborn. I hope it doesn’t come to that and they see reason.”

“Will these Halla do anything to Fluttershy if they found her?”

“I doubt it in the extreme. They’ve never had a problem with Celestia or Luna, even during the War of the Sun and Moon. It’s me in particular they hate. The worst they’d do is escort the two of you to the pass. More likely they’d ignore your presence and simply avoid you. It would be up to the Taiga to deal with you.”

Applejack joined Mac in chuckling at the idea of letting a forest ‘deal’ with the Goddess of Forests.

“Alright,” Mac said as his mirth died away. “We’ll do it, right ‘Shy?”

“I, um, guess so. Only if you really want to, though. I mean, there is a lot to do around the farm. Y-You don’t have to do this for me.”

Mac gave his broad shoulders a shrug. “Ain’t much to do this time of the year. Harvests not for a few months. AJ and Bloom can manage fine until then without me.”

“Most excellent,” Iridia said, her eyes dancing in delight as she clapped her hooves together. “On that note, thank you for a wonderful meal, Applejack, and congratulations on your foal. I know she will be as strong and beautiful as her mother.”

Applejack’s heart fell as Soarin, in the midst of finishing his brandy, began to cough and choke.

“Excuse me?” he managed to wheeze the question between gasping coughs, his eyes shrinking to little black dots in a sea of green. “C-Care to repeat that?”

Shooting Iridia a withering glare, one the queen either failed to notice or refused to acknowledge, Applejack sat in cold dread as her carefully laid plans were torn asunder. Standing swiftly, Applejack said in a curt voice, “Soarin, we need to talk,” before making her way to the porch.

As they slipped passed, Iridia asked Fluttershy, “Did I do something wrong?”

Making sure the door was closed, and knowing it wouldn’t stop any prying ears, Applejack turned to her coltfriend and braced herself for the inevitable. Soarin had a troubled look on his face, his normally bemused eyes were distant and hurt. A flicker of pain stabbed deep into Applejack’s chest to know she was the cause.

“I think I’m in need of an explanation,” was all he said. Soarin couldn’t keep the reproachful hint of disappointment and fear out of his voice.

Wincing at his tone, Applejack took a step towards him, only for Soarin to step back. The simple action cut deep, even though Applejack had been expecting it. She knew what he was thinking. If she was pregnant, she had to have been fooling around behind his back. Afterall, it was a month before the Season they last saw each other. A part of her wanted to yell at him, tell him that he didn’t have exclusivity with her, but it’d have been a lie. The words had never been spoken, but Applejack knew in her heart that the excuses and denials she’d been throwing at herself even that very day were hollow and false.

All she needed was to see Soarin’s eyes to know the truth of her heart.

“It’s complicated, love,” Applejack said, sitting on the porch bench. It took her a moment to realise she’d called him ‘love’ for the first time. The word and building realisations made Applejack smile despite the tension gnawing at her stomach.

“Seems rather simple to me.” Soarin frowned, his expression growing darker.

“I meant it’s Elements of Harmony complicated,” Applejack tried to sooth his anger with a pleading looking, asking with a gesture for him to sit beside her.

Hesitating for a moment, Soarin slid onto the bench.

“Just, let me explain, and afterwards, afterwards you can be angry, or disappointed in me, or whatever you want. Just, please, let me explain.” Applejack waited to get a stiff nod to continue before plunging into the speech she’d prepared since learning of her pregnancy. “The foal is yours, ain’t no doubt about that. You can have a look at the doc’s reports if you don’t believe me. I don’t blame you for being suspicious. Can’t say I wouldn’t be if our places were reversed. Just, believe me when I say I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about this, love.”

“You’re positive?”

“I’m the Element of Honesty. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t, lie about something this important. She’s yours.”

Soarin was quiet for a few minutes, his face contorting through a long sequence of emotions as he sorted through his feelings and thoughts. Applejack stayed silent as she watched the stallion she loved.

“This is very strange,” Soarin admitted, avoiding Applejack’s gaze and focusing on the stars dancing high above.

Applejack couldn’t hold back a short chuckle, the tension in her belly relaxing just a little.

“I got two alicorns pretending to be regular ponies over for dinner. Strange seems to be pretty normal in my life.”

“So… You’ve been to the doctor already. Do you… Is she… Ahem, what, um, tribe is she?”

Applejack watched Soarin out of the corner of her eye, oddly eager to see his reaction as she said, “She’s an alicorn.”

Soarin’s head whipped around as the words registered, his mouth falling open into a wide ‘O’. Barely holding back a laugh as the last of her worries evaporated, Applejack put a leg over Soarin’s withers.

“I told you, Elements of Harmony complicated.”

Soarin let out a long breath, leaning back on the bench. His usual happy sparkle had returned to his eyes, a silly grin on his face. A low laugh grew in Soarin’s chest, working its way out into the clear night. Reaching over, he kissed Applejack on her brow before leaning his head against hers. Fire blossomed across her face at the touch, her heart quickening until she thought the ponies no doubt eavesdropping at the door would hear it.

“Well, this settles it, then.” He gave Applejack’s hooves a tender squeeze. “I’ll tell Spitfire that I’m retiring immediately.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Applejack protested. “You could finish this season at least.”

Soarin shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about retiring for more than a few months, actually. My turns are getting sloppy and I’m slowing down. Stunt flying is a game for the young and stupid. I’m only one of those things now. Besides, how could I think of risking my neck to entertain a few ponies when I have the most beautiful mare waiting for me down here?”

“Oh, so, it’s my looks you’re dating me for, huh?”

“Well, that and your pie. You have the most delicious and moist pie I’ve ever tasted.” Soarin gave his brow a lecherous wiggle, to which Applejack responded with a playful swing of her free hoof.

Laughing like a schoolfoal, Soarin tumbled off the bench, dragging Applejack with him. For a few minutes they rolled across the porch, their good spirits reaching the stars, and making the night brighter still. Eventually they stopped, Applejack playfully nipping Soarin’s ear before curling her head against his neck.

In a moment, she knew, they’d have to get up and go back inside. There were practical matters that needed tending with Mac going away. Though, if Soarin was serious about early retirement, and Applejack had to admit she’d rarely seen him so certain about something, there’d at least be a set of hooves ready to lend help. For the first time since Rarity’s disappearance, things seemed to be getting a little better.

* * *

Hades flew low over the ocean, the gentle weight of Soir pressing down on his back while salty dew clung to his legs and underbelly. He’d been flying almost non-stop for days now, and his wings were beginning to ache from the effort. They’d taken only a couple breaks to rest, Hades using a cloud-walking spell on Soir and conjuring a selection of fruits for her to eat. To keep his mind occupied and away from the burning muscles, and a desire for the wings of a maritime pegasus, Hades had taken to chatting with Soir.

He would share stories of his youth and the time before time, when all the worlds were unformed and nothing but nascent dreams in the ethereal winds of the Far Realm. Soir particularly liked the stories of the war against the Quus; vile abominations, birthed of madness and chaos. She had laughed at the funny bits, and clung tighter to Hades at the frightening ones. It had been many, many centuries since Hades had told these stories. He hadn’t spoken of them to Artemis, and his older children had only heard snippets from him. Sharing their races’ history felt good, and made Hades’ heart feel as if it were a feather caught in an updraft.

Ioka’s sun shone all the brighter as he retold, for the seventh time, the tale of the final battle, and how the Aethyir sealed the Quus in an endless sleep inside the remains of the Far Realms, locked away until the end of time when all the worlds would die, and the cycle would begin anew. At that time, the alicorns would become true Aethyir once more, take up blades and shield, and strike the Quus down for good, bringing Order to the next worlds.

It was a lie, of course. Not even the Fates could see beyond the end of time to know what would happen. But Soir didn’t know that, and it was a good ending.

“I’ve done much of the talking today,” Hades said, not taking his eyes off the horizon. Not that it had changed for the last hour. All that could be seen was a sheet of grey and white cloud. “Why don’t you tell me of your mother.”

Soir grew sullen, Hades feeling her shift to gaze down on a fat bellied cloud below them.

“Which mother?” she eventually asked.

“Any will do, though I am mostly curious about your birth mother.” Hades rolled his shoulders in a half-shrug between flaps of his wings.

“I can’t remember much about her.” Soir grunted. The way her body tensed and she squeezed her hooves around Hades’ neck told him she wasn’t being wholly truthful. “I do remember a little more every day though, but what I recall…” Trembling, Soir buried her face in Hades’ mane.

Hades continued to fly in silence. He could feel two growing wet spots on the back of his neck, and knew a sympathetic pang at the sadness she carried. No words came to mind, no soft comforts or encouragements. Such things had always been more Hecate and Nyx’s forte.

“I’m a bad pony. A very bad pony.” Soir eventually said, rolling her head to gaze at the endless sheets of cloud.

“I don’t believe that,” Hades snorted, gliding for a while and slowly drifting towards the fluffy bed below.

He had a very strong desire to take a short break to let his wings relax. Only trouble was, if he stopped to rest Hades knew that he’d not want to leave. So, as his hooves began to drag through the drifting vapours, Hades beat his wings to climb once more.

“It’s the truth though.”

“To my eyes, you shine with the light of innocence.” Hades tried to sound soothing with the lie, but even to his ears it came out flat.

Soir’s giggle, however, gave him a flicker of hope that he had at least partly succeeded in soothing her conscience. Gripping his neck, Soir grew quiet again, the pair enjoying the brilliant sun and cool breeze upon their faces. Hades in particular took great pleasure in the simple act of flying, in spite of the aches he’d developed.

An hour later, they were brought out of their silence by two muffled bangs reverberating up through the clouds.

“What is that?” Hades asked, ears swivelling to the noise below.

“That sounded like cannons,” Soir gasped, crawling along Hades’ back to peer down, but only saw the cloud’s puffy top. “Can you do something about the clouds?”

“Ha, that is easy!” Hades snorted.

It took only a moment to form the matrix to summon a wind, one that cut the cloud into thin, wispy shreds. Hades’ wings stiffened as his eyes fell upon a curious scene.

Ships moved across a slightly rolling ocean. They were divided into two lines, with over twenty ships in each fleet. He was momentarily perplexed by how they moved without the use of oars, but the towers of white sails above each ship filling with a firm breeze out of the south answered his unspoken question. Soir gave an excited squeal, clambering to get a better view.

“That’s the Grand Fleet! There’s Admiral Joyeuse Vallée’s flagship, the, um, the Montagne. You can tell by the pennant.” She practically screamed in a curious combination of delight and dread. “Look! Look! You can see they’ve run out their guns!” Soir’s hooves dug into Hades’ back as she switched sides and pointed to the other fleet. “And that’s Hackney’s Marelantic Fleet! And their… Oh, no!”

Scrambling up Hades’ neck, Soir leaned forward so she could look him in the eye.

“We have to do something!” She said in breathless worry. “Those were ranging shots we heard before.”

“Ranging whats?” Hades lifted a brow.

“Ranging shots! For the cannons!” Soir pressed her face forward, almost unbalancing Hades. “Don’t you know what cannons are?”

“Can’t say I do.”

“Ugh! How can somepony so old and powerful not know about cannons! They’ve been around just about forever!” Soir grumbled as she scooted down Hades’ neck.

Suppressing a chuckle at her antics, Hades said, “You certainly seem to know a lot about this sort of thing.”

Soir went quiet again, the filly watching as the Hackney fleet drew closer and closer to the Prench line of battle. A ranging shot fired from the middle of the Hackney line broke Soir out of her thoughts. She watched as the iron ball sped across the water, skipping between the Montagne and the ship before her.

“I… spent some time in a locket… I think,” Soir said, curling into a tight ball. “I was… worn and passed down through generations. At first I couldn’t do anything, see anything, or even hear. That part of me was alone and in the dark. Gradually, I learned how to look through the crystal, and even whisper to whoever wore me. A lot of what that fragment saw and said is still hazy. I only strongly recall two ponies, everypony else is just a blur of colour and noise. One was a sickly filly. She liked to laugh, and though she knew she was dying herself, she tried to help me.” Soir sniffed, a little tremor of ancient sorrow trickling into Hades’ where they touched. “The other was Captain Or Aube of the Holy Prench Navy. She thought my locket was a good luck charm, and always wore it in battle.”

Hades digested Soir’s words as he continued to watch the two fleets draw closer. He knew something terrible and unspeakable had been done to Soir. The scars on her soul should have been impossible.

“What happened to you?”

“I don’t know, really.” Soir shrugged, uncurling herself to latch onto Hades’ back once more. “I told you before, most is blurred together. From what I can remember I know I was a bad pony. A very, very bad pony.”

“I do not believe that you are a bad pony,” Hades grunted. “The wounds you sustained… They should have been enough to disperse your essence, destroying you entirely. Yet, clearly, they did not.”

Again, Soir shrugged.

“This was supposed to be one of the brighter worlds,” Hades said to himself, narrowing his gaze as the Hackney fleet turned and began a mad dash towards their opponents.

Cannons thundered along the Prench line, sending a swarm of iron towards the Hackney ships. Hades arched a brow as half way across the water, glyphs began to activate in spikes of magic. Fireballs, lances of lightning, and blasts of freezing wind smashed into a wall of reactive barriers among the advancing fleet. The noise was tremendous even so high above the battle as the barriers repelled the onslaught.

“That was stupid, opening with Glyph rounds,” Soir mumbled, half to herself. “Should use standard shot to hammer the shields first.”

“Amazing,” Hades chuckled, as the Hackney ships breached the Prench line, firing along both sides at less than fifty yards. “The power of Ioka’s vessels…”

“Why won’t you stop this? You could if you wanted too, right?” Soir asked, her eyes fixed on the Montagne as a pair of smaller Hackney ships, both third rates, ganged up on the massive flagship. Even fighting both sides, cannons spitting until their muzzles glowed red, the Montagne held her own. In a hail of snapping lines and shattering wood, the mainmast of her larboard opponent toppled, entangling the two ships together.

“Why should I is the better question?” Hades turned his head to look back at Soir.

“Thousands of ponies will die!” Soir quickly protested, jabbing a hoof at the Prench rear-guard.

The battle was fiercest there, as the Hackney fleet set upon their enemies with frightening zeal, fighting yard-arm to yard-arm.

“So?” Hades let the single word strike Soir like one of the cannons from the ships below. “As you learned with your mother, mortals die, go to Tartarus or Elysium, and in time are reborn. I do not know what politics are at play below us. What cause or justification there may be for this battle. But, far more importantly, I don’t care what happens. My goals do not include them. Watching this unfold has been a curiosity, nothing more.”

Finishing his explanation, Hades leaned forward and flew away from the battle. The thunder and howl of magic followed the pair until the two fleets became nothing more than a dark stain on the horizon.

“We’re both bad ponies, aren’t we?” Soir mumbled into Hades ear as a line of islands appeared ahead.

“Perhaps.” Hades admitted. “Or perhaps we are gods, and our motivations and designs do not coincide with mortals as often as either would like. If you had your full power, would you have swooped down, forced the mortals apart? What would you have done if, when you left, they attacked each other again?”

“I… don’t know.”

“I am the God of the Dead, and you are Dreams.” Hades pumped his wings a few times, then entered a long glide towards the nearest island. “It is not our duty to become involved in every little squabble the mortals have. Upon Gaea, and beneath it in Tartarus, alicorns separate themselves from the masses of ponies. When we begin to choose favourites, when our preferences for a city grow too conspicuous, resentment and war inevitably follow.”

“But the Sun Princess has ruled Equestria for a thousand years, and nopony has ever declared war on them,” Soir pointed out.

“Perhaps because she and Faust have been alone with only each other,” Hades grumbled, unwilling to relinquish his point.

A fit of giggles rippling through Soir made him almost reconsider. “Also, I thought adults weren’t supposed to tell foals their marks.” Hades could feel Soir smirking on his back.

“Normally that would be true. You are a special case, however. That part of you has been sealed, along with much of your birthright. I assume this was done by Faust. Given your damaged memories and the old wounds I can see inflicted to your soul, I believe she did this to help your mind heal.”

“Faust was the pony your brother fought when momma was… hurt, right?”

“She is,” Hades confirmed. “She had been watching us from your broach that night.”

Soir lifted a hoof to the broach in her mane as Hades spoke.

“Is she watching us now?”

Hades let a low laugh echo through his being. “No.”

Slowly, the island transformed from a brown smudge to a sharp volcanic slope, rising out of the sea. Facing their approach sat a short, crescent bay  framed by jagged black cliffs. Only low prickly shrubs and a few trees dotted the land with life. Hades felt a slight dampening of spirit, unaware of the hope to relax he’d been holding since spotting the island. Resigned to either sitting on an empty, stoney tip of land or continuing to fly, Hades decided to press on.

Gently gaining altitude to skim over the volcano’s caldera, Hades was surprised to see an oasis of green at the volcano’s heart. A town had been built atop the volcano, a little smattering of pink and blue buildings. Hades dipped into a wide turn to get a better look. He only needed to beat his wings a few times before they crossed the far side of the island and found a little harbour. Below, a pair of smaller ships sat at anchor, gently rocking on the ocean’s swell, while along the beach dozens of small skiffs and rafts had been dragged up onto the dark pebbles.

Little grey forms darted about this side of the island from the beach up to the town, their long wings showing them to be Tern Pegasi. Summoning an illusion spell to hide his nature, Hades wondered if they’d been spotted. A few of the pegasi did turn their heads to look at the new-comers, but the vast majority returned to whatever they’d been doing. For most this seemed to either be unloading the skiffs or laying in hammocks while shouting at the ones working.

“How about we take a rest?” Hades suggested, greedily eyeing the hammocks.

“If you want,” Soir said with heavy disinterest.

“What’s wrong now?” Hades asked as his hooves skipped across a well worn cobbled path.

“Is… Is she dead too? Did your brother kill her? Because of me?” Soir pressed her ears flat against her head as she slid from Hades’ back and stretched her legs for the first time that day.

“She has not been destroyed, if that is your concern,” Hades remarked as he tried to settle his wings, only to find they were cramped and locked open. “Oh, bother,” he grumbled, attempting to force the offending appendages into a relaxed state.

“But, how do you know?” Soir began to pace in front of Hades, kicking a few stray stones out of her way. “A mountain was destroyed, surely—”

“If Faust’s physical shell and spirit had been destroyed, so too would have the entire valley, not just the top half of a mountain.” Hades shook his mane, gritting his teeth at the aching flight muscles. “Every living being would have felt her destruction, if such had happened.”

“Y-you’re sure?” Soir stopped in her pacing, looking up with pleading eyes.

“Our bodies and spirits —stupid wings, settle already— are extremely resilient. It takes —close, damn you— great effort to even harm us, let alone —blast it all— slay us.”

Soir gave Hades a deadpan stare. “You might be a bit more convincing if you weren’t struggling with wing-cramps.”

Pausing in his efforts, Hades frowned, before admitting, “Perhaps. But I did say resilient, not invulnerable.” At last his wings settled, the left one twitching a few times as the stiffness passed. “See, I’m already recovering. Would have taken a pegasus hours or days to recuperate from such a long flight. Especially since I’ve not flown much this past thousand years. We’re magical beings, Soir, but that doesn’t make us entirely immune to the wear and tear of our actions. We still need to eat and sleep, for instance.”

Beginning to trot towards the town, watching the occasional pegasus pass overhead, Hades continued. “Don’t worry for Faust. And don’t feel guilty.”

“But, if—”

“No! There is no ‘buts’ or ‘ifs’. You did nothing.” Hades slowed to give Soir a significant look, his eyes flashing with conviction. “The battle was their fault, not yours.”

Ears pressed flat, Soir said, “I still feel like it’s my fault. I’m cursed, I think. Everypony around me gets hurt or dies. If… If you stay with me, you will too. I know it.”

“Bah. I am the God of the Dead, Lord of Tartarus!” Hades puffed out his chest as they descended into the old volcano’s caldera. “I am a very hard pony to kill.” He gave Soir a wink. “Now, let’s find some food and a place to rest for the night.”

As she was trailing a few steps behind him, Hades didn’t see the pained wince Soir gave, nor heard her as she muttered, “I hope you're right, and I’m not a jinx.”