Myths and Birthrights: The Archive

Myths and Birthrights

By Tundara

Part Three: Ghosts of the North

Chapter Nineteen: The Eyes of the Sun

The Canterlot Express rattled its way down the Trottingham valley, a thin trail of puffy black clouds marking its progress towards the Heartlands. In a matter of hours the train would pull into Dodge Junction, and from there it would circle around the Canter mountains and Everfree forest before beginning the climb to Canterlot. The round-about route added an extra day to the journey, but all agreed it was better than cutting through the dangerous, monster-infested forest.

There was one pony aboard the train that was thankful for the extra time.

Shyara sat, alone and miserable, in a cabin under lock and guard. If one could consider an old conductor to be a ‘guard’, or the flimsy door and sliding bolt a ‘lock’. The truly grating part, to Shyara, was that both were more than effective at keeping her imprisoned. Head resting on folded hooves, Shyara glared daggers at the door as she had done since Duke Blueblood had marched her to the cabin and left her inside. The train car was empty now, except for her and the five mortals. Bonnie and Magnum’s cabin was beside Shyara, and from it she could hear the couple still arguing with Blueblood.

The exact words being exchanged eluded Shyara, not that they were all that important. They were all just variations on a singular theme of ‘how dare you?’.

A small knot of guilt twisted tightly in Shyara’s stomach as she thought about how she’d gotten the nice couple in trouble. She wished there was some way she could repay them for the kindness they’d shown her. Something other than getting them in trouble with the law. Though Shyara suspected that being in trouble with the law wasn’t new for either of them, especially Bonnie.

Her ear flicked as the train rattled through a tunnel, the cabin plunging into darkness for a long minute. As shadows filled her vision, Shyara caught a flicker of something out of the corner of her eye.

It was a door. A white door that shimmered like a band of moonlight across a pond as it was kissed by the faintest of breezes.

Startled, Shyara swung her head around to face the door. As she did, it vanished. Blinking and thinking it to be a trick of her guilty mind, Shyara returned to her brooding, only to catch sight of the door again. This time it was out of her other eye. Once more it disappeared when she attempted to get a better look.

Huffing, Shyara scowled straight ahead, not bothering to look when the door appeared for a third time, back in its original spot.

The train rolled clear of the tunnel, the cabin bathing in light and the door vanishing for good.

“Great, now I’m seeing things,” Shyara muttered to herself, closing her eyes and trying to get some rest.

Duke Blueblood poked his head into the cabin on several occasions, each time trying to draw more information out of Shyara. She refused to respond, or even look in his direction, stung to her depths by his betrayal. Shyara wasn’t all that certain why she should feel betrayed by the Duke. They’d only known each other for all of ten minutes before she’d been confined to the cabin. Yet, she couldn’t shake the sense that he had betrayed her in some unspoken manner.

Sleep did not come easy, her thoughts too tortured and scattered. When it did come, she found herself standing in an empty, bleak dreamscape.

Shyara’s dreams had never been all that unusual, filled with the normal things young fillies dreamed about; running, playing, leading the charge of ten thousand warriors into battle. All perfectly normal. Until the nightmares reliving the siege began.

Compared to revisiting that terrible night again, the emptiness was a relief.

The caw of a raven broke the desolation, infusing shape and form into the emptiness. Streaks of black and grey surged, like a painter applying ink to a blank canvas. Around Shayra a castle appeared; a stern faced keep with narrow windows and thick walls that seemed to glower down upon the filly. A thick, iron bound door sat before Shyara, the same door she’d seen in the train. A second raven cawed, followed by a third, then many, many more.

Flapping wings filled the dream. Turning her head, Shyara saw a swarm of ravens approaching until the dream-sky was black. In their talons they held rolled pieces of parchment bound by coloured string. Like a river of black feathers, the ravens dove down, swooping through the keep’s windows.

Tentatively, Shyara took a step towards the keep, only for the building to move away from her. Skipping, jumping, walking backwards, and even sitting still all produced the same result.

Crossing her hooves, Shyara said to herself, “I hate these dreams. Fine, I’ll just—”

A caw at her ear made Shyara leap straight up with a scream, landing in a tangle of hooves and wings. Around her came the shrill cry of the train’s brakes, making Shyara press her ears down while the train came to a gradual stop.

Cautiously, she cracked an eye open. Shyara wasn’t surprised when she was greeted by the stark cabin that had become her prison. She wasn’t even surprised to be laying on her back, one wing pinched painfully beneath her. The large raven sitting on the backrest of the bench Shyara had been sleeping on did come as a surprise, however. More surprising still was that it had two heads, both staring down at her with little, beady black eyes.

“Good, you’re awake.” The raven’s left head turned his beak up into a cheeky half-smile.

“Of course she’s awake, you screamed in her ear,” sneered the other head, this one rolling its eyes.

Frowning at the other head’s tone, the left head said, “Well, would you have rather waited until the train started up again? Sure, it makes a cutting figure, leaping from the moving train to the swelling of orchestral music, but it is highly impractical. Would you want the mistress to break a leg or wing?”

Shrugging one shoulder, the right head tilted his beak up into the air. “She’d mend.”

“Wait a moment.” Shyara scrambled to her hooves, wincing as her wing gave a little twinge. “Who are you? What are you?”

The two heads looked at each other, then fixed Shyara with a sharp gaze. “We are what’s known as a Hemmravn. We’re here to assist you, mistress.”

“How? And what is a ‘hemmravn’?”

“We are—,” the right head began to speak, only to be interrupted by the other saying, “No time for explanations. We need to get the mistress moving!”

“Yes, yes, of course,” huffed the hemmravn, flapping up to the luggage rack. With its clawed feet, the hemmravn pulled down Shyara’s saddlebags, dropping them at the stunned alicorn’s hooves. The hemmravn then settled next to the cabin’s window; its locked and closed window.

“And how am I supposed to get out of here?” Shyara asked as she slipped on her saddlebags. “They’ve magically locked the window and door.”

Rolling his eyes, the left head said around a chortle, “You are the Goddess of Secrets, mistress of the shadows and hidden things, guide of thieves, tricksters, and sages. I think you’ll find it easy to circumvent a lock. Even a magical one.”

Shyara started to protest, but the heavy hoofsteps of ponies in the small walkway outside made her clamp her mouth shut. Through the thin door she could hear Blueblood talking to Bonnie and Magnum.

“Remember, not a word of who you encountered to anypony,” Blueblood said, his voice low and threatening.

“I’m not afraid of a puffed up—” Bonnie snarled back, only to be cut off by Magnum saying, “Love, calm yourself. Nothing can be done for the little filly now. I’m sure His Grace is as concerned for her safety as we are. Besides, this train’s bound for Canterlot, with Celestia, Luna, and more. Trying to pull a fast one under their noses would be the height of foalishness.”

There was a pause, presumably while Bonnie calmed herself.

A little whisper, one meant only for Magnum, made Shyara’s ears perk forward as she pressed her head against the door.

“I have my boarding cutlass in my dunnage… It wouldn’t take much to liberate ‘Shy Spell’ from her prison.”

“As much as I’d love to see you clobber that…” The rest of Magnum’s words were lost as the pair moved out of the train car.

Shyara sat transfixed, ear still pressed to the warm wood, her mind swirling. They had left her. They hadn’t even tried to rescue her. She had felt certain that they would at least try. Not that the attempt would have amounted to much. Even if they got her off the train, Blueblood and the train staff would know the couple had her, and where to find them.

No, she was going to have to rely on herself, as she had after Trixie was left behind.

She couldn’t go to Canterlot, not now. Shyara needed time to figure things out. She needed to understand her role and place in the world. She needed to get off this train.

“Okay, let’s go,” Shyara said, moving up to the hemmravn.

Hopping aside, the hemmravn watched silently as Shyara inspected the latch on the window. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to just will it open. When that didn’t work, she grabbed it with her magic and attempted to wrench it off its frame with no more success. Taking a deep breath, and calming a twitch in her brow, Shyara meditated on opening the lock.

Her heart settled into an even rhythm. The cabin seemed to shrink, the hemmravn vanishing, the happy voices outside on the platform drifting away, and the rattle of luggage being loaded and unloaded turning into a dull hum.

Shyara had always been told that magic was as much instinctual as it was learned. That once she found her domain she’d understand in moments nuances and spellwork that ordinary mortals would spend decades researching.

Apparently, she’d been lied to.

“Gah! It’s no use.” Shyara slumped down in defeat. “I can’t open this lock.”

“Sure you can,” said head number two, “but if you need a hint; use a Chaos rune.”

Shyara started to ask what a ‘chaos rune’ was, when it struck her. An oddly shaped rune, non-uniform and slanted, supporting Qwi and Hulluc, the latter two intertwined. The spell was so simple, Shyara slapped a hoof to her face for not seeing it sooner.

For the first time in her eighty five years, Shyara cast a proper spell. White-grey magic coursed along her horn, extending out to the window. There was a moment of resistance as her spell met the enchantment left by Blueblood, then the latch sprung open. Carefully, Shyara lifted the window, checking to make certain no pony was looking her direction before slipping out onto the platform.

Her rump had barely hit the wooden boards before the train’s whistle sounded and the conductor gave the cry of, “All aboard!”

Keeping low, only a very sparse crowd remaining, Shyara scooted to a shadowy alcove in a corner. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt certain that at any moment Blueblood would come racing off the train shouting her name. But he did not, the train pulling out of the station and heading towards a distant mountain without incident.

Slowly, a victorious smile etched the corners of Shyara’s lips upwards.

She’d done it. On her own with no mortals or even other goddesses for help. She’d even used her first spell. Shyara could hardly hold back a bubbling squeal of delight as she turned to the hemmravn. As she moved her head, she caught sight of a flowing sweep of the night sky in the bright morning light. She saw it for only a moment before whatever she’d seen was gone. The moment was all Shyara needed to know what she’d seen; the mane or tail of a Night Goddess. Her good mood was immediately lost, dampened as memories of the Citadel of Light surged forwards.

“Nyx?” Shyara mouthed the name as she shuffled along the wall. Shyara managed to slip past the few remaining ponies on the platform to peak around the corner and see a pony remarkably similar to her grandmother trotting along the street. With her were Bonnie, Magnum, and three fillies. Three very familiar fillies.

“That’s impossible,” Shyara hissed, squinting at the fillies, then back to the pony that had to be Princess Luna.

“Not impossible, a coincidence,” came the hemmravn’s left head as the bird landed on Shyara, his little clawed toes digging into her back.

“Mother said that coincidences were the Fates playing games. The more striking the coincidence, the greater their hoof in setting it up,” Shyara said, shrinking back around the corner. Luna paused mid-step, glancing back over her withers towards the train station, a befuddled expression on the princess’ face.

“Do you believe that?” asked the right head.

“I’m… not sure. How is it possible for them to have had a hoof in that?” Shyara waved a hoof at the fillies and Luna as the group rounded a corner and disappeared. “They all look so much like… them. Like my family. Like grandmother and the Muses. But they can’t be them.”

“Not completely like them though,” noted the left head.

“What do you mean?” Shyara turned to look back at the hemmravn.

Both beaks broke into wide grins. “We hemmravn are your collectors. The finders of secrets. We hear things.”

Huffing a little at the partial answer, Shyara pulled one of her vests out of her saddlebags. The soft, velveteen fabric and the illusion enchantments were soothing against Shyara’s coat. “Come on,” she muttered as she stood up and trotted out of the shadows, “we need to find a place to hide, and you need to —finally— give me some explanations.”

“We have the perfect place,” both heads said together. The left then added, “Quiet, discreet and out of the way,” while the second said, “warm in the evening and cool in the day, with a soft bed and all the things you’ll need.”

“Sounds good. Where is it?”

“This way, follow us!” cawed the hemmravn, taking wing and flying off just above the heads of ponies.

None of the townsfolk took notice of the bird as it zipped and dived through the growing morning. Only a few took note of Shyara, but as school had let out the previous day for the summer, no pony thought anything of the lone filly.

“They can’t see you, can they?” Shyara asked as they left the town proper and entered an apple orchard.

“We are invisible to most.” The hemmravn shrugged his wings as he alighted on the branch of an old apple tree. “Here we are.”

Shyara tilted her head as she looked past the hemmravn to a squat, boxxy tree-home. A simple ramp lead up to a pink door with a heart shaped hole in the top half. Suppressing a grimace, Shyara placed a tentative hoof on the ramp, retracting it as the wood groaned.

“This is your hiding spot? This looks like it was made by a one hoofed, one eyed earth pony.”

“Earth ponies did make this place, yes. But it is a secret place.” The hemmravn’s left head bobbed a few times. “It will keep you safe; we guarantee it.”

“If you say so.” Shyara gave the ramp another dubious glance, before slowly making her way up towards the door and landing.

Every time the ramp creaked she jumped; one particularly loud protest from the wood making her scramble the rest of the way. Taking a moment to let her heart settle, Shyara inspected the house’s exterior. Unlike the ramp, the house itself seemed to be in decent repair. The paint was a little faded, and the door’s hinges moaned when she pushed it open, but otherwise it seemed sturdy and loved.

Inside, it was like an arts and crafts shop had exploded. Glitter, paper and fabric scraps, and open bottles of glue dominated one corner, while another was plastered in posters of a rainbow lightning bolt over a blue background. In one corner was a short table with three chairs around it. A lectern was shoved close to the wall, more of the rainbow lightning bolts covering every inch of its surface. Along a wall were three little beds; one a mesh hammock, one a plain wooden frame, and the final one a small canopy bed. None of the beds looked to have been used recently.

“This is… not bad,” Shyara admitted, shrugging off her saddlebags next to the canopy bed.

“See, we told you.” The hemmravn’s heads smiled.

Shyara’s ears quirked before more could be said, the faintest hint of a voice tickling her senses. Through the orchard came a trio of voices, echoing from tree to tree. Shyara couldn’t fully make out the words, but the way they were growing in volume set her teeth on edge. Chewing on the corner of her cheek, she slid to a window, peeking down from a corner.

Shyara knew she shouldn’t have been surprised when she saw the three fillies from the train station approaching.

“I thought you said this place was a secret!” Shyara hissed as she scrambled to find a hiding spot.

She thought about hiding under one of the beds, but the frames were too low. Instead she quickly shoved her saddlebags out of sight before leaping behind the lectern.

“Come on, Apple Bloom, you must have some good ideas about what to do for the talent show. What about asking Zecora? She’s been teaching you all that neat potion stuff. Can we use that?” came a scratchy voice, the door groaning on its hinges as it was pushed open.

“You’ve asked me a dozen times, Scootaloo, and the answer’s the same. I ain’t supposed to play around with potions on my own, yet,” spoke a second voice, making Shyara press herself lower behind the lectern.

“Well, I think that is stupid and boring. Dash is always telling me to practice on my own and try harder,” said an orange pegasus as she crossed in front of Shyara’s hiding place. She began to rummage through a small chest next to the lectern, still talking away. “You heard what Diamond and Silver said! I want our show to stomp their smug muzzles into the mud this year.”

From near the window, the third filly said, “You say that every year, Scootaloo, and every year we just make a spectacle of ourselves.”

“Specta-what?”

“Foals. Idiots. Like we don’t know what we’re doing!”

Scootaloo shrugged, pulling out of the box a thin book with a brightly coloured cover. Shyara had seen such books before while traveling with Trixie. Comics, they were called. Shyara had asked Trixie if she could get one, only to be told they were ‘trashy rags unworthy to be read by ponies of our greatness’. Shyara gave the comic a longing look before having to duck back behind her hiding place as Apple Bloom approached the table and took a seat.

“We kind of do that all the time though, Sweetie, if you haven’t noticed,” Scootaloo snorted before climbing into the hammock.

Silently, Shyara gave the hemmravn —the bird having taken a perch on the back of a chair— a scathing look that said, ‘if we get out of this, you’re in so much trouble.’

“Come on Bloom, there must be something cool and awesome in her hut!” said Scootaloo, rocking her hammock by fluttering her wings. “What do you think, Sweetie?”

“I think it doesn’t matter,” Sweetie muttered.

Peaking around the crate, Shyara stared at the three fillies. Scootaloo had her nose buried within the comic’s pages. Sweetie sat staring out the window, her chin rested on her hoof and her eyes glazed over as she stared into the distance. Apple Bloom was sitting at the table, her brow pinched together as she looked at the hemmravn, a little frown in the corner of her muzzle.

Shyara couldn’t believe how similar the three looked to the Muses.

Scootaloo was a dead-ringer for Melete. She had the same feisty fire burning in her eyes, and the same harsh, almost clipped method of talking. Her mane was just cut shorter and her coat was messy, as if she had an aversion to clean water. Melete was far too fussy to ever let her coat reach such a state.

Sweetie looked almost identical to Aoide, and her voice had the same lilt. Except Sweetie’s mane went pink to lavender, where Aoide’s was the other way around.

Apple Bloom and Mneme would have been impossible to tell apart if the two had sat side-by-side. What separated them was Apple Bloom’s accent. Shyara had heard the soft drawl and inflection that some of the earth ponies used, and she found it actually rather nice. But it was weird hearing it out of what seemed to be her cousin’s mouth. Apple Bloom also had a friendlier, more open air about her than Mneme.

They were also very clearly not alicorns.

Apple Bloom turned towards her hiding spot, making Shyara duck deeper into the shadows. Her heart hammered in her throat as Apple Bloom scootched her chair closer to the one upon which the hemmravn still sat, a bemused expression on both of his faces.

“So, what are you?” Apple Bloom asked, making the hemmravn give out a little squawk before falling off his perch, wings cartwheeling as he fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You can see us?” both heads yelped as the bird hopped back onto his feet.

Shyara slapped a hoof to her face as Apple Bloom repeated ‘us’ before looking around. Apple Bloom spotted Shyara almost immediately.

“Hey, who are you talking to, Bloom?” Scootaloo asked, peering over her comic.

“There’s a filly hiding behind that box,” Apple Bloom stated with a pointed hoof.

With a resigned sigh, Shyara slowly stood from behind the crate. Sweetie hardly looked over while Scoots launched herself out of her hammock and zipped across the small room, pressing her face into Shyara’s.

“Hey! Who are you? What are you doing here? You a spy? Huh?”

Scootaloo’s purple eyes bored into Shyara as she pressed forwards.

“My name is Shyara! I am trying to find a safe place to figure things out! I’m not a spy!”

The answers tumbled from Shyara faster than the questions had from Scootaloo, making the latter pause and raise a surprised brow. A moment later the little pegasus gave a yelp as Apple Bloom bit her tail and pulled her away from Shyara.

“Scootaloo, be nice,” Apple Bloom snapped, adding a light blow on the back of her friends head. Turning to Shyara, Apple Bloom extended a friendly hoof. “Sorry about her, she’s rather… intense.”

“It’s okay… I was hiding in your… what is this?” Shyara asked, looking around the eccentric building.

“This is the Cutie Mark Crusader Fortress of Badflankitude!” Scootaloo said, her little wings buzzing to carry her up, one hoof thrust above her triumphantly.

“We told you that it’s a Club House,” Sweetie grumbled. The unicorn remained in the same spot, still with her chin on her hoof, though she now watched her two friends and Shyara.

Shrugging, Scootaloo said, “Yeah, yeah, but my name is cooler.”

Pointing to the hemmravn, Apple Bloom asked, “Is that your companion spirit?”

“Her what?” Scootaloo tilted her head, glancing to the indicated spot. She didn’t react as the hemmravn puffed out his feathers before flapping back up to the chair.

“She’s got a… um… two-headed bird with her,” Apple Bloom partially explained.

“He’s called a hemmravn, and you can see him? None of the other townsfolk seemed to see him.”

Blushing a little, Apple Bloom rubbed the back of her head. “Well, it’s probably because I’ve been learning to see spirits and stuff from Zecora.”

“See! Cool stuff!” Scootaloo threw up her hooves before stomping back to her hammock.

Shooting a dark glare after her friend before returning her attention to Shyara, Apple Bloom said, “So, you said your name is Shyara? Why you hiding out here? Ain’t your parents going to be worried about you? Actually… now that I think about it, I ain’t never seen you around Ponyville before. You new?”

“Yes, my name is Shyara. I’m hiding out here because I’m afraid Celestia will blast me with fire when she sees me. My parents are either shades or they don’t care about me. Yes, I’m new to town.” Shyara had to take in several breaths after the tumble of answers. Pressing her ears back, she looked at the hemmravn. “Why do I keep answering like that?”

The bird chortled, the left head saying, “Probably something to do with you having to share secrets if asked and you know the answer. I’m just making a guess, though.”

“What?” Shyara yelped, tossing up her hooves as a low, frustrated growl worked its way through her throat. “So I have to tell the truth all the time? I thought I was the Goddess of Secrets, not… Oh, Hemera.”

Not even bothering to suppress a groan, Shyara’s hoof again slapped into her face.

“You’re one of them. One of the alicorns from that other world, or wherever it is your from.” Sweetie had a dangerous edge to her voice as she finally pushed herself away from the window and advanced towards Shyara, her green eyes narrowing until they were like daggers. “Why can’t you leave us alone? Why did you ponies have to take my sister away from me?”

Feeling the blood drain from her face, Shyara shuffled away from Sweetie’s wrath.

“I’m from Gaea, yes,” Shyara confirmed, swallowing a growing lump of dread. “But I don’t know what you’re talking about… except… are you… is Rarity your sister?”

Sweetie snapped up straight as if she’d been struck.

“How do you…?”

“I met her!” Shyara clapped her hooves together, relief making her smile as little pieces of a grand puzzle began to fall into place.

“Wait, but you said that you’re new to Ponyville.” Scootaloo left her hammock again, stepping up beside Sweetie and joining her friend in giving Shyara a suspicious glower.

“I am.” Shyara bobbed her head a few times.

“Hey, we can’t trust her!” Sweetie growled, shooting her frightful look at her friends. “She’s one of them. Look at Tyr and the weird, crazy stuff she talked about. Or what happened to Fluttershy. Every time one of them gets involved bad stuff happens to us regular ponies,” Sweetie spat, thrusting an accusing hoof at Shyara.

Pressing her ears back, Shyara turned away from the accusatory and angry look.

“No! I don’t mean anypony any harm, honest,” Shyara quickly said. “I just want to figure out who I am and my Domain, that’s all. I’ll even help, if I can. I’ll tell you everything I know about Rarity. Just don’t tell anypony where I am. Please.”

“We’ll think about it. Right Sweetie? Bloom?” Scootaloo gave her friends a quick glance and received confirming nods, though it took Sweetie a few moments to give her consent.

Figuring it was as good as she was going to get, Shyara explained —in frightening detail— about meeting Rarity in the ruins of the Citadel of Light and the following encounter with Great Aunt Aphrodite. By the end of the little story, Sweetie had grown pale beneath her off-white coat, Scootaloo was gushing about daimons, and Apple Bloom was chewing on her lower lip pensively.

“My sister’s okay?” Sweetie asked as the story concluded, falling onto her rump with a soft ‘flump’.

“Well, yes, I guess.” Shyara rubbed her chin as she thought. “Or she will be, probably. Maybe. Okay, I don’t know.”

“It sounds like what happened with Fluttershy, sort of,” Apple Bloom mused.

A low, bubbling laugh rocked Scootaloo, the pegasus wearing a grin wide enough to swallow a train.

“What are you smiling about, Scoots?” Apple Bloom asked.

“I’m just happy to have been involved this time.” Scootaloo smiled wider, head held high and her hooves skipping on the spot like she was about to run or dance. Spinning around to face Apple Bloom, Scootaloo’s tail knocked over a small lamp. “I’ve missed every other time one of them showed up. And her story was so awesome! With giant demons, and explosions and swords and magic!”

Hopping up onto her back hooves, Scootaloo shadow-boxed the air.

“We told you, Scoots, you only missed out on scary stuff.” Apple Bloom rolled her eyes.

“You mean cool stuff!” Scootaloo gushed.

“Trust me, it wasn’t ‘cool’ seeing my sister go all crazy,” Sweetie snapped.

Scootaloo pressed her ears back, a few apologies sputtering past her lips as she dropped back to her hooves.

“So, do you believe me? Will you let me stay here and figure things out? Please?” Shyara pressed her hooves together, giving the Cutie Mark Crusaders the biggest, saddest eyes she could. The look would have been far more effective if they hadn’t been fillies, and masters of it themselves.

Still laughing, Scootaloo gave Shyara a little shove, saying, “Fine, you can stay here.” Turning to retrieve her comic, she added, “And we won't tell the adults about you either if you help us with our Summer Sun Talent Show.”

“Wait, what? You want her help? We don’t even hardly know her, Scoots,” Apple Bloom protested, giving Shyara a slightly apologetic look.

“Yeah, but she’s an alicorn. And she said she was Secrets. Think of all the cool stuff she will be able to show us for the show!”

Taking her turn to roll her eyes, Sweetie said, “I doubt there is anything she can do to help us Scoots. She’s hiding in our clubhouse, for Celestia’s sake.”

Shyara felt the need to protest and defend her status as the Goddess of Secrets, but she knew Sweetie was right. She didn’t know anything. Only that she was an Intangible —what else could she be?— and that she needed to figure out just how her domain worked. All she had so far was that she was compelled to answer questions to the best of her ability and she knew a spell for opening locks. Neither of which were very useful in setting up a talent show.

Looking between the three friends, Shyara didn’t know what to do to help them with a talent show.

It was then a bolt of inspiration struck Shyara.

Around Sweetie, Shyara could see a flickering cloud, and within it hundreds or even thousands of secrets. Small things and big things alike. The time Sweetie had accidently spilled one of her sisters rare wines, and replaced it with grape juice. When Sweetie was told that her grandmother had been a jewel thief, and even once stolen Celestia’s crown for a single night on a dare. Shyara could see all Sweetie’s secrets laid bare before her, but the one that really drew her attention was the one closest to Sweetie’s core.

“I had a… friend, who was a stage magician. Putting on shows for villages and towns as we travelled. She taught me a lot about what makes a good performance and what doesn’t,” Shyara said, a surge of confidence flowing through her. “Sweetie, you’re pretty good at singing, right?”

A faint blush touching her cheeks, Sweetie tilted her head saying, “I’m okay, I guess.”

Clapping her hooves together, and delighted to have uncovered another aspect of her Domain, Shyara said, “Okay, I think I have an idea for this talent show.”

* * *

With a low groan, Tyr collapsed backwards off her bench and onto the floor. Her horn felt sore, her nose was running —again— and the math problems she’d been working on steadfastly refused to release their answers to her. At least the low ‘tsk’ of annoyance from her math tutor, one Miss Division, told Tyr she wasn’t the only pony exasperated.

“You’ll never get the answers if you lay on the floor,” came Miss Division’s sharp voice, followed by the whap of her metre-stick on the blackboard.

“Maybe I will. Maybe the answers will float down on father’s wings, a golden halo of light showing, for all the worlds, that this is the answer to… whatever that is.” Tyr thrust a hoof at the math problem to the accompaniment of a sigh from Miss Division.

“Your father is a unicorn, Lady Tyr, not a pegasus. And it’s just simple trigonometry. Hardly anything to make a fuss about.”

“My foster-father is a unicorn,” Tyr corrected in a dull voice, her hoof returning to the floor beside her with a soft ‘whap’. “Also, the pony who invented trigonometry is evil. A regular daimon of misfortune. He’s lucky he died centuries ago…” Tyr let the threat hang as she rolled back to her hooves, placing her chin on the small desk she used for homework and tutoring.

Miss Division sat on the other side, her periwinkle and gold mane pulled up into a sharp bun. Small glasses were perched on the tip of her nose, making her already large seafoam green eyes look absolutely enormous. Tyr had to suppress a little giggle as the tan unicorn pushed the glasses back up her nose and tried to again run through methodology to answer the math problem on the board beside her.

It was futile however. Tyr’s attention could not be held for more than a few moments —the margins of her worksheet were filled with doodles of ponies in strange armour fighting—  before it was again lost. Miss Division persisted, however, trying every trick and tool she knew to get Tyr interested in math. Alas, her prescribed task was impossible. The beleaguered math tutor would have had more success scaling the Canterhorn blind-folded.

The final blow came as the door opened and Princess Cadence came trotting inside followed by an attendant carrying a tray of steaming tea, biscuits, and little sandwiches.

“How’s she been doing?” Cadence asked while instructing the attendant to leave the tray on a side table.

“Poorly, your Highness,” Miss Division admitted, her ears flattening. “I’ve tried everything to make lady Tyr apply herself, but it’s no good. She’s more determined to fight me than work.”

Clicking her tongue, Cadence walked around the desk to look at Tyr’s worksheet. Tyr could feel her foster mother’s disapproval deepen as Cadence came to a stop behind her.

“It’s not my fault! Math is so… boring!” Tyr protested, waving her hooves in the air.

“Mmm Hmm,” was all the response Tyr received, making her shrink down on her bench. A hoof reached over her shoulder, pointing at the doodles. “What’s this?”

“Um, a recreation of the second Battle of Cannae?” Tyr offered, giving Cadence a sheepish smile.

“It’s… interesting,” Cadence said, getting a look at a stick figure that seemed to be in the process of stabbing another stick figure with several spears. “But not math,” she added.

“I again point to math’s inherent dull-ness.” Tyr wanted to add more, but a knock on the door interrupted her before she could come up with a suitably witty conclusion.

At Cadence’s beckoning, the door was pushed open by a guard. This particular guard had become very familiar to Tyr over the past few weeks as he had been assigned to watch over her whenever she was out of the palace. To her eternal embarrassment he even stood outside her classroom when she was at Canterlot Preparatory School for Gifted Unicorns. Tyr received a generous amount of teasing over his presence from the other fillies.

“Sorry to intrude, ma’am, but Princess Celestia has requested Lady Tyr see her in her office,” the guard said, snapping off a brisk salute.

Frowning a little, Cadence gave a slight nod to the guard. “Very well,” she said. To Miss Division she then added, “You have been a great help, Miss Division.”

“Thank you, your Highness. When she applies herself, she has a sharp mind. Lady Tyr is just easily distracted.” Miss Division bowed before slipping out of the room.

Giving the tray a resigned look, Cadence grabbed a couple of the zucchini and mustard sandwiches, passing them to Tyr. “Well, I guess we’ll have to have tea after court.”

Stuffing both sandwiches in her face, Tyr could only nod as she happily made her way out of her chambers and into the wide hallway.

Shaking her head, Cadence turned to the guard, asking, “Do you have foals, Flash?”

“Me, ma’am? Oh, no, I’m not even married yet,” he gave a half-shake of his head. Tyr paused on the far side of the door, leaning in to listen. “Ma’am, if you’ll permit me…” A pause, presumably as Cadence motioned for him to continue. “Why is it you’ve never had a foal? It’s always just struck me as odd, you being such a source of love.”

Tyr craned in closer to the door, her own interest peaked.

“That’s very private, Guardspony,” Cadence replied, her voice carrying a frigid bite. “But… I suppose it is because I’ve been afraid.”

“My apologies, ma’am. I shouldn’t have asked. It was just something that had bothered me more since being assigned to watch lady Tyr. The way you look at her when you think she won’t notice… Sorry, I’m speaking out of turn again.” There was the shuffle of hooves and armour as the guard bowed, making Tyr shrink back from the door.

A moment later Flash stepped into the hallway, the door closing behind him.

“So, do you know why my Aunt Celestia wants to see me?” Tyr asked, her tone and big eyes oozing innocence.

“I’m not at liberty to say, my lady,” Flash said, his eyes straight ahead as he lead the way towards Celestia’s private study.

“So, you know then.” Tyr skipped along beside her guard, a smug little grin on her face as the palace staff stepped aside to let them pass. “Which means it can’t be serious, or Aunt Celestia wouldn’t have said anything where the guards could hear.”

“That is very difficult,” Flash snorted.

“You can see and hear beyond the wards on Celestia’s chambers?” Tyr tilted her head a little, letting Flash see a glint of bemused humour in her eyes. She always enjoyed teasing and prodding her personal guard.

Releasing a low sigh, Flash said nothing.

“Nah, it’s okay. You’re all just for show anyways,” Tyr shrugged. “I mean, if something could hurt a Goddess, what hope would any ordinary pony have?”

Flash didn’t respond to the barb. He never had, taking the tact of calm stoicism over playing into Tyr’s hooves and validating her games. Tyr was a little surprised that she’d managed to draw as much as she had out of the guard. As usual, Tyr grew bored with trying to tease her supposed protector, and instead focused on the walk.

It wasn’t too long before they reached Celestia’s study and Tyr stepped inside, alone.

Celestia sat behind her desk, but the usual stacks of documents were missing. Instead there were two pots of tea, and a plate of biscuits. A peculiar, spicy scent wafted past Tyr’s nose, making her ears perk up and mouth water.

“Is that acai berry tea?” she quickly asked, jumping onto a plush seat. Receiving a slight nod, Tyr then asked a quick follow-up question. “Does this mean granny Luna is back?”

“She is not, I’m afraid,” Celestia said.

“Oh.” Tyr felt a little flutter of happiness retreat.

“It’s for you. Luna said that you like it as much as she does,” Celestia said as she poured a cup.

Taking the tea, and a healthy number of biscuits, Tyr mumbled that she did like the flavour.

“The reason I asked you here is because I have some difficult news to share,” Celestia began, lifting her own tea in her golden magic. “It’s about your… birth family.”

The happiness didn’t just retreat, it drained completely away, leaving her ears and tail wilted. Over the past few months Tyr had been left mostly alone about her birth herd by her foster family. After her initial confusion, Tyr hardly spoke about those she had left behind. This was in part because the memories of the Citadel of Light were too painful to recall, and the remainder a desire to protect those that might have followed her to Ioka. The number of coincidences in appearance and personality had only further cemented her conviction to remain silent unless absolutely necessary.

That wasn’t to say she hadn’t let little tidbits of information slip over the months. Some were harmless, like telling stories about her distant cousin Dionysus and his ‘parties’. Others Tyr kicked herself over, like the story of Hemera she’d told when she was first found. A few she had only begrudgingly spoken about, like after over-hearing Cadence telling Shining about Fleur’s ‘condition’.

Tyr still had trouble believing her sister had broken the taboo of stealing a mortal soul’s existence in order to regain her physical form. But Tyr had often erred when it came to Athena and what actions her older sister was willing to take to achieve her goals. The same could be said for the other self-styled Alicorns of Light. As Tyr looked back on Gaea and her relatives' histories, she found it harder and harder to justify their actions. Things that had seemed right and proper on Gaea now looked brutish and terrible.

Celestia would never hang a pony by his own innards day after day as Hemera had done.

Shuddering at the mental image, Tyr wondered if the peace and harmony of Equestria was making her soft, and if it were, if such an outcome was a bad thing.

Breaking herself from her ruminations, Tyr looked up and said, “They were my family. But, you’re my family now. You, Grannies Luna, Velvet, Glitter and Whisper, Father and Mother, even Twilight. Though she doesn’t seem to know how to act around me… You’ve all been more family in these past few months than my birth family ever were.” The words tasted bitter on Tyr’s tongue as she spoke. “If Aphrodite saw me like this,” Tyr gestured at her wingless back, “being disowned by her would be the least of my worries. And she’s supposed to be the Goddess of Love! And my mother!”

Tyr could feel bitter, angry tears sting her eyes as her thoughts went to dark, hurt places. For once she didn’t mind or berate herself for shedding tears over something as insignificant as resentment. Other than her cousins, Tyr hardly saw anything of her family before the war. Aphrodite or Apollo would take her on occasion to their temples to show her off to their adoring followers. That happened once or twice a year. Tyr’s heart squeezed tight as she realised she’d seen more of her foster mother over the past few months than she had of her real mother in the last decade.

“I used to always be looking out for what game you or the others were playing. I thought if I played along, I could find it and thwart it, somehow.” Tyr rubbed the tears from her eyes, looking up to find Celestia watching her with a concerned expression.

It was one of the small things Tyr liked about Celestia, how she let herself show emotion in private, and only around family. Celestia didn’t wear her emotions on her withers even then, but they were truer for being reserved for only those she cared about.

Pushing her teacup around, Tyr tried to complete the release of her pent-up thoughts.

“When I was really sick… after you took away my wings and lustre… I heard you and Mother speaking. I’m still a foal, but I’m not stupid. As angry and afraid of you as I wanted to be… The way you spoke… And then, after I snuck off to Notra-Dame de la Chanson… I thought for sure I was going to get punished. But, instead, you were all so relieved… It’s all...”

Tyr shook her head, her words becoming stuck in her throat.

“I know,” Celestia said, stepping around the desk to sit beside Tyr and wrap a wing about her. “We’ve never really talked, have we.”

It was a statement, one of regret, rather than a question. Tyr remained quiet, continuing to rub her face as Celestia spoke.

“What I did to you was wrong. The fostering ritual was meant for newborns. When I saw you in that bed, last spring, Velvet telling that preposterous story, I thought I’d killed you. Then when you disappeared and we couldn’t find you anywhere in the palace grounds...” Tyr was pulled tighter against Celestia’s side. “I thought I’d let another foal down. Just as I had with Namyra.”

“I’ve heard her name mentioned a few times. Who was she?”

Celestia took a few moments before she replied. Tyr held her breath as she waited for Celestia to continue, the office suddenly quiet, as if it too was hanging on the princess' words.

“Another time, perhaps,” Celestia said, her voice a faint whisper. “The blame for her fate is mine alone. And yet the punishment fell to those around me. I have been so blind, Tyr, and I fail, time and again, to learn from my mistakes.”

Getting up, Celestia went to a cabinet at the back of the room. Inside it were dozens of boxes, and though she had lost her alicorn senses, Tyr could feel the tingle of powerful enchantments whisper through the air in the few moments the cabinet was open. From the top shelf Celestia took a box, closing the cabinet afterwards. Once she was sitting beside Tyr again, Celestia undid the many locks and wards. Opening the lid, Tyr saw sitting atop a faded velvet cushion a single crystal tear. The tears were so rare and precious—as well as dangerous, but the potential benefits so greatly outweighed the negatives—that show them to another alicorn, no matter how close, was all but unthinkable.

Lifting up the last tear, Celestia passed it to Tyr.

“I think you should have this,” Celestia said, tapping beside the tear. "It is the tear I shed the night I met Twilight. This is a tear of hope."

Taking the small, golden crystal in her hooves, Tyr didn’t know what to say. Alicorns on Gaea never gave their tears away, too afraid of what they could be used to do.

“T-Thank you! I’ll guard and treasure it, forever,” Tyr managed to say, holding the gift close to her breast.

“Now, I should tell you what’s happened the last few weeks,” Celestia said, her tone becoming a bit more business-like.

For the next half hour, Tyr sat in silence as Celestia informed her about what fates had befallen those that had followed her from Gaea. Shyara’s disappearance from the train didn’t surprise Tyr. Neither did learning Artemis had exchanged her divinity for a mortal’s mortality. Artemis had been a rather strange alicorn, after all. It was hearing about Faust that surprised Tyr. She found it hard to believe that an alicorn could be ‘lost’ for the better part of two thousand years. More so after having met Faust, albeit briefly.

By the end, Tyr felt a little drained, but also better. She was certain Celestia felt the same way, judging by the look in the corner of one eye.

“You took that rather well,” Celestia admitted, nibbling on the edge of a biscuit.

“Well, after learning about my sister and how she broke the taboo, I’m mostly thankful that at least a few of my old family had some sense.” Tyr swirled her cold tea in its cup, watching the dark pink liquid almost dispassionately.

“That’s something,” Celestia said softly. “It’s just about time for Daycourt. Do you want to sit with me again, or would you rather help Cadence organize?”

“Huh? What’s mother organizing?”

Celestia tilted a brow. “Why, her return to the Crystal City for the Crystal Fair and opening of the House of Ladies.”

“Oh!” Tyr twisted around to look at the door. She had known about the Crystal City and that Cadence, and naturally her herd, would be travelling to it soon, but hadn’t realised it’d be so soon. Tyr wondered idly for a half-moment if any of her new family would be coming as well. “I think I’d rather sit in court, if I’m going to be in the Crystal City until the autumn.”

“Very good,” Celestia smiled.

Chronicle and a few other aides stood waiting in the hallway for Celestia, bowing as the pair emerged before swarming Celestia with bits of information on who she could expect at court that day. It was far less than usual.

* * *

Today was a good day.

Celestia had known it when she raised the sun that morning. She and Luna listened intently to Twilight’s gushing about runes, lensing, and the evolution of spell formulas. Twilight had been so excited she’d almost forgotten to put the stars to sleep.

The long overdue conversation with Tyr had likewise, while more draining than battling a dragon, left Celestia feeling lighter on her hooves than she had in years. She often forgot how good it was to share.

Daycourt had started pleasantly. With the Summer Sun Celebration just five days away, the court was fairly inactive. Ponies were too busy getting ready or traveling. Trottingham had been selected to host this year’s official celebration, and the nobility and gentry were descending on the town in droves, booking hotel rooms or staying with friends and relatives. Celestia would only be in the town just long enough to attend the functions she had to, before she’d return to Canterlot.

Free of the nobles’ bickering, the Daycourt’s petitioners were all decent, hard-working ponies.

That wasn’t to say Daycourt was empty. The throne room was packed, but there wasn’t a monocle, top-hat, or bonnet in sight. While the crowd wore its Sunday best, that amounted to little more than vests for the stallions and plain dresses for the mares. They also gave the national anthem a full, almost exuberant, turn. Everypony present was simply delighted to see the Princess on the last Sunday before the beginning of the festivals and fairs.

Celestia was in such a buoyant mood she didn’t hide behind her mask of serenity —how that word now rankled her— as she waited for the first petitioner to be called.

Blessed Harmony’s name rang through the hall, carried by Chronicle’s practiced voice. Celestia was curious why the Revered Mother was at court. The sisterhood almost never directly approached the Sun. The priestess smiled as her name was called, and she stepped forward, her robes rustling a little in the sudden stillness of the throne room. In addition to her robes, the sister wore a pair of saddlebags bulging with scrolls and other objects.

“Your most Divine Highness,” Blessed began, bowing so her nose was pressed to the floor. “I, and all the Sisterhood, extend you our most humble gratitude for taking the time to listen to us. I come before you this day to request the crown’s permission to begin construction of Notre-Dame de la Etoiles on the site of the Stars’ ascension.”

“‘Our Lady of the Stars’,” Celestia rolled the translation in her mouth, a hint of a smile touching the corners of her eyes. “You wish to build a temple in Ponyville.”

“Yes.” Blessed gave her head a vigorous nod as she pulled out one of the scrolls from her bags.

As the priestess laid out the scroll, architectural plans and designs covering the entire surface, Celestia asked, “But why come to me? Shouldn’t you ask Twilight if she wants a temple built for her?”

“You don’t ask permission to give a pony a gift, do you?” Blessed smirked as she placed a gemstone upon the plans.

“Typically you don’t also make them a building to worship them in, either.” Celestia stepped down from her throne as she spoke, her smile growing and Tyr following.

“As I am sure you know, Princess, what you desire and what ponies do are not always congruent.” Blessed continued, her happiness echoing through the silent crowd as a second gem was placed down.

“True.” Celestia sat before the plans, and waited as a final gemstone was added.

From the gems shone a little display of lights, intersecting and criss-crossing to form an illusion of what the temple would look like completed. The first thing Celestia noticed was that Notra-Dame de la Etoiles was dark. Not foreboding or ominous, though it could be under a cloudy night, but actually dark in colour.

“What material are you proposing to use?” Celestia asked as she raised a hoof to spin the illusion.

“Midnight Marble, Princess.” Blessed shifted uneasily on her hooves as she spoke.

“Midnight Marble? Interesting choice. Logical, though in the quantities you’ll need it will cost a fortune.”

“Our initial estimates put the cost at close to ten million bits, for materials alone.”

A murmur rippled through the court. Such a cost was unheard of. Even the nobles would have balked at such a sum. Celestia privately smiled. She almost wished that the nobility were present. The cost was a little inflated, though. If Celestia had to make a guess, she’d have placed the cost closer to nine million bits for the materials.

“You will transport the blocks by train, no doubt,” Celestia continued, making note of other interesting features. “You have the walls being supported by flying buttresses I see. It’s been centuries since I saw a new building use them. And three spires. How tall is the one above what looks to be the choir?”

“Five hundred and ten hooves, Princess.”

“Impressive,” Celestia admitted. “I’ve never seen this style of spire before,” she admitted, twisting and manipulating the illusion to show the temple’s interior.

Built around a pillar supported by open-air buttresses and ribs, the central spire would be magnificent when completed. Windows covered the exterior, letting in the light and would allow any pony climbing the steps wrapped around the pillar to gaze out on the surrounding countryside. At the top of the tower portion of the spire was a little area to sit so visitors could recover before beginning the descent.

“It was our desire that pilgrims and the faithful would be able to see as many of Twilight’s stars as possible.”

“That explains the number of windows,” Celestia nodded her approval of the idea. “I notice that the facade and interior are plain, no sculptures or frescos.”

“We haven’t reached out to any artists yet, Princess.” Blessed gulped, a little bead of sweat trickling along her brow and down to her jaw. “W-we had hoped to have laid the foundations at least before the final decisions were made.”

“An odd choice...” Celestia’s voice trailed off as she gave a very slight frown. “Why the delay?”

Wincing, Blessed said, “Costs. Material and labour take up all the budget, and we don’t have enough remaining to hire any artisans. As it is, we’ll have to take out several loans and build over several decades.”

“What about all the homes that are already there?” This question came from Tyr, the filly gesturing to the rest of the building. To one side was a garden, and what Celestia assumed would be the living quarters and other sundry rooms for the priestesses. The temple itself was huge, over six hundred hooves in length. With the additional buildings, it would dominate the south side of Ponyville.

“That is an interesting question,” Celestia agreed. “I don’t think Twilight would be too pleased to discover that her library had been destroyed and her old neighbors forced to move in order to make space for a temple.”

Blessed quickly shook her head. “Oh, no, we’d never do that!” Pointing to the large square garden, Blessed continued in a rapid voice. “It isn’t on these plans, but the Holy Tree will be moved the short distance to the gardens and be converted into a reliquary to house the Friendship Scrolls. The library’s current contents will be put into a new library here and here.” Blessed pointed at the south and east buildings that flanked the garden.

Celestia nodded slowly, looking the plans over a few more times.

Beyond the actual temple, Celestia saw how it would affect Ponyville and the surrounding area. The impact to Whitetail Wood, as lumber would be needed not just for the temple, but to build housing for the hundreds of workers, would be tremendous. Ponyville itself would swell during the construction. Once word of Notre-Dame de la Etoiles began to spread there would be an increase in tourists and pilgrims.

The odds of Fluttershy’s not-secret secret becoming wider knowledge would increase drastically. Celestia knew it was inevitable that Equestria as a whole would become aware of Fluttershy’s ascension eventually, but she wanted to give Fluttershy time to adjust. The influx of attention would certainly doom that idea.

Still, this would bring in a lot of trade to the rural town. It would take a few decades, but Whitetail would recover. Probably quicker with Fluttershy’s proximity.

“So, you need building permits, and the deeds to the lands, correct?” Celestia asked as she reached a decision.

“The permits are all we wish.”

“Nonsense,” Celestia said, letting her genuine amusement shine. “I won’t hear of the Sisterhood owing the crown. I’ll also make sure that anypony living where the temple will be built will have their homes moved to a location of their choosing. Furthermore, I will assist you from my private funds,” Celestia added with a sharp grin to the flabbergasted priestess. “If this is to be a gift to my cousin, then I wish to help.”

“Princess...” Blessed had gone pale beneath her dyed coat as tears glistened in her eyes. “I... We... The Sisterhood will repay you, somehow.”

“Blessed, you and your sisters already dedicate your entire lives to my herd. That is a gift we cannot repay you for.”

“Your Divine Highness... Thank you. A thousand times, thank you.” The tears spilled over as she collected the gemstones and plans.

The stream of thanks left a warm glow deep in Celestia’s breast as Blessed backed out of the throne room. A thunder of applause filled the chamber at Celestia’s parting words, the common ponies smiling broadly and cheering.

Returning to her throne, Celestia glanced towards her seneschal, stopping as several jolts shot into the base of her horn. She knew the sensation well enough, having experienced it too many times over the past few months. An awakened alicorn was near, and it was somepony she hadn’t met yet. From the way it came in pulses, whoever it was was both close, and using magic to hide his or her true form.

Either Shyara had come out of hiding in Ponyville, or Zeus had arrived. Celestia knew which of the two was more likely.

“Next we have—” Chronicle began, the seneschal pressing his nose to his notes as he spoke.

“Chronicle, begin the Nightmare contingencies,” Celestia interrupted, keeping her mask firmly in place, every inch of her outer appearance the regal princess while her insides boiled in worry and anger.

Hesitating the barest glimpse of a moment, Chronicle turned to Tyr, saying, “Come along, miss, I believe your parents are packing. Best you join them, hmm?”

“What, but there is still half of Daycourt, and besides, I was—”

“Tyr, go—,” Celestia began, cutting off Tyr, but was interrupted herself as a low murmur rippled through the court. Celestia glanced to the side-door, and a visibly frazzled Cadence.

Though she showed no outward signs beyond a slight unkemptness to her mane, Celestia could see that Cadence had run the length of the palace from her suites to the throne room. Before either had time to speak, the throne room doors were opened, and Blessed re-entered the hall, backwards this time. The Revered Speaker had her ears pressed so flat against her head, they seemed to merge with her robes.

Forcing the Revered Mother back, wrapped in the guise of a pegasus, Zeus strode into the throne room like a general coming to accept terms from a vanquished enemy. His wings were spread ever so slightly, and head held at a triumphant angle. Behind him, the Royal Guard lay spread across the gallery, their spears broken and armour rent.

Fear and anger blossomed within Celestia’s breast; fear for her little ponies, and anger at seeing them hurt.

“Zeus!” Celestia bellowed, the surge of anger and hatred not just cracking her mask, but shattering it as her voice almost reached Traditional Royal Canterlot levels, her hoof thrusting towards the stallion.

“Zeus?” Tyr yelped, shrinking down behind Celestia’s throne.

“Who?” asked the crowd, those at the front stepping or blown a few steps back.

The crowd scrambled out of Celestia’s path as she leapt from her throne, wings carrying her in a glide to the far side of the chamber. As she landed, Zeus dispelled the dozen enchantments and charms necessary to hide his form, and more importantly, his nature. Magic surged through the throne room, creating a space around the two alicorns as it pushed the crowd back.

“I see word of me has preceded my arrival,” Zeus chuckled as he settled his wings and flicked his white mane behind his ears.

Taking a deep breath to control her anger, and calm the heat rising from her body, Celestia examined Zeus. He wasn’t much to look at, Celestia decided. While there was a certain strength to his build, he wasn’t all that large, being a few inches shorter than her. Strong, yes, with well toned features, but Celestia had expected Zeus to be… taller. He was also giving her a funny look. His eyes seemed to sparkle while a wide half-grin took to his face.

In a swift move, he took Celestia’s right hoof in his own and brought it up to his lips, kissing her where golden shoe met her leg.

“If you took every dawn for a thousand years, compressed them to a single point of time, the beauty of that moment would be a pale shadow next to your radiance.”

For the first time in centuries, Celestia was speechless. She wasn’t taken in by the line. It did not send little fluttering tremors through her. Nor did the confident smile make her want to hide a smile of her own and bat her lashes.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

It took every measure of her control to hold back from striking Zeus. The shocked faces of her little ponies acted as a soothing balm against the anger flaring deep in her breast. For their sakes she had to remain calm, no matter how tempting it was to kick Zeus’ plot to Vanhoover and back.

Taking the moment Celestia spent re-ordering her emotions and desires as an invitation to continue, Zeus swaggered around to her side and extended a wing across her back.

“Eyes like petals of the crystal rose, and a coat whiter than the first snowflake. Surely, none other could hope to be compared with you, fair Goddess.”

“What’s going on?” one mare whispered to another, the second replying, “I think the princess has a suitor calling.”

Celestia had prepared herself for many things, but not Zeus touching the sensitive and intimate place between her wings and base of her mane. A primordial electric shock coursed up into Celestia’s thoughts, scattering them like sheep before a wolf. In a fluid motion, he leaned over and —pressing his advantage as Celestia tried to re-organise her reeling mind— kissed her.

At once the throne room was filled with a tremendous boom. Zeus staggered back, a hoof clutching his cheek while Celestia snorted in furious contempt, the hoof she had used to strike him hanging in the air. The ancient marble stones around them were shattered in a spiderweb of cracks originating from the four points where Zeus had stood.

“Oh-ho! A love tap!” Zeus laughed, turning to the nearest stallion, and with a wink said, “That’s how you know they are interested.”

“The only interest I have that involves you is your departure,” Celestia snarled, stamping her hoof and cracking the marble further.

Zeus simply shrugged, working his jaw a few times. “Believe that if you want, but I can tell there is a connection between us.”

Celestia’s mane began to crackle as she advanced a few steps towards Zeus, her voice ringing throughout the palace as she spoke.

“You harmed my guards without provocation—”

“They tried to bar my entry. Me! Zeus! God of Storms and King of the Alicorns!” Zeus waved a bored hoof. “Besides, they fought well… for a group of mortals.”

“You almost killed my mother!”

Little flames trickled at the corners of Celestia’s eyes, her mane and tail having turned into deep shades of orange and red. The air directly around her boiled and hissed, forcing the crowd further and further back.

“Pish-posh. She claimed to be a Fate, and everypony knows that they can only be destroyed if they wish it. If she almost died that is her fault for claiming to be something she is not.” Zeus gave a long chuckle. “Besides, she fled the field. A little roughed up, perhaps, but she’ll be fine in no time. Actually, should she wish a re-match, tell her I’m game whenever she is. Not that it was much of a fight, nothing like the time I battled the quus Typhon.”

Leaning over, Zeus took the hoof of a young mare in his own. “Now, that was a fight, my dear,” he purred. “There I was, hurling thunderbolt after thunderbolt. The sky trembled with my fury. But his hide was too thick and he shrugged off my greatest weapon. He was a hundred hooves tall, with three great, malformed heads, the stench of limburger cheese wafting off him. The other Alicorns had fled and were trying to regroup. Things seemed low.”

“What did you do?” the mare asked, the awe in her voice almost making Celestia roll her eyes.

“Why, I hit him with a rock, of course.” Zeus smiled wide as if it was the most obvious explanation.

Gaping, Cadence sputtered. “Wait, you did what?”

“I hit Typhon with a rock,” Zeus said, grabbing his belly as he started to laugh. “The biggest one I could find. Just so happened to be Mount Alicornus. Hit him so hard he fell to the burning pits of the world’s core where he has been trapped ever since.”

Every pony present stared at Zeus, with equal measures of incredulity on their faces.

“But I’m not here to boast about my glorious past,” Zeus continued, leaving the mare and strutting back towards Celestia, ignoring the wall of intense heat around her. “I’m not even here to woo a being as wholly beautiful as you, my dear,” he added as he stopped to give Celestia a curt bow.

“I’m here for... for...” Zeus’ voice trailed off, the mirth that had been ever present in his eyes fading as he looked to Cadence’s side. Tyr gave a little eep, ducking her head back down.

“You’re here for...?” Celestia asked, hoping to regain Zeus’ attention.

Waving a hoof, he shushed her. Celestia bristled again, moving to intercept Zeus as he started towards Cadence and Tyr.

“Who is that?” Zeus demanded when he found his path blocked. “Stand aside,” he thundered when no answer was forthcoming.

“No,” Celestia said in return, standing nose to nose with the intruding god. “You march uninvited into my home, you disrespect me and my ponies, and now you dare to make demands? This is not your world, and I am not beholden to you!” Sparks flickered from the tips of Celestia’s mane and tail as she spoke, slowly pushing Zeus backwards.

“I am your King!” he growled.

“No, you are not,” Celestia stated flatly. Not taking her eyes off Zeus, Celestia said, “Cadence, take the little one and—.”

“Do not take a step!” Zeus interrupted, his voice like the crack preceding the rumble of thunder. “The foal that hides behind her, I can feel her nature, even among your efforts to hide her from me. Who is she? Who is the foal?”

“I’m not a foal!” Tyr snapped, leaping out from behind Cadence before she could be stopped. Celestia could see the slight tremor in Tyr’s legs as she marched across the short gap between them. Stopping just to Celestia left, Tyr glared up at Zeus, the god arching his head back in shock. “I am Tyr, and I am not a-afraid of you! Aphrodite always said you were a big bully, and she was right!”

Slowly, Zeus’ brow knit together into a firm line, a deep frown taking hold of his lips.

“What have you done to her?” he asked Cadence, his tone quiet and contained while anger flashed in his eyes.

“I did what was necessary,” Celestia quickly said, hoping this time she’d have Zeus’ full attention.

“You did that to her? You maimed her!”

Electricity crackled through Zeus’ mane as he marched back to Celestia, thunder echoing with every step, the crowd of ponies pressing themselves towards the doors. Chronicle had been quietly ushering ponies out of the throne room with help of the pages. The careful evacuation threatened to become a stampede as ponies realized they were standing only a few hooves away from a pair of alicorns on the verge of trading blows.

“What of the others? I have not seen nor felt a trace of them since coming to this world. I travelled among the mortals, and all I heard were stories of you and yours. One Twilight Sparkle and Iridia in particular figured prominently once I set my hooves upon your favoured lands. But never a word of my Demea or Clouthea. Have you done to them as you did to… that thing?”

Circling around so Zeus was facing away from the retreating crowd, Celestia growled, “That will be up to their mothers.”

The motion had the unfortunate effect of placing Cadence and Tyr behind her, preventing them from slipping away without Zeus noticing. Celestia pinned her hopes on Cadence being able to take Tyr to safety if a fight broke out.

“Their mothers?” Zeus spat the word as if it were acid. “What have you done?”

Celestia gave a stern laugh, slowly spreading her wings, fire flowing down her feathers making them glow a hazy orange.

“Me? Nothing. They chose to latch onto two of my subjects. No, they are more than just subjects, they are friends.”

“You speak of Pellaito, the rebirth of an alicorn,” Zeus stated, magic beginning to hum along his horn.

Celestia saw no spell work at play, only the simple threat of magic not unlike an earth pony stamping his hooves or a pegasus spreading his wings. She almost revised her assessment when a great bident struck the stone next to Zeus, the haft gripped tight in his magic.

Celestia called to Corona, deep within Canterlot’s vaults, the ancient sword eagerly answering her summons to appear at her side.

Brandishing the blade, she said, “If that is what you call it. Unlike the others, they at least had the desire not to steal the life of one of my little ponies.”

The two were almost nose to nose, the energies given off by their bodies crackling and hissing where they touched, like water dripping onto the embers of a fire. Over Zeus’ shoulders Celestia saw, to her limited relief, the last of her ponies leave the throne room. Not that even being outside the palace would save them if she and Zeus came to blows.

“You have the most beautiful eyes when you’re angry,” Zeus moaned, his demeanor shifting quicker than winds in a storm. His wings snapped shut, his mane lost its sparking electricity, and his bident vanished. “Very well, if they have taken the path of Pellaito, then I’ll have to wait to speak to them again.” Turning sharply away from Celestia, his tail coming perilously close to touching her nose, he started to stride out of the throne room.

Celestia’s own rage took on a more contained form, the visible signs flickering away as she shared a surprised look with Cadence. Tyr was hiding beneath her foster mother, her entire form trembling.

“Oh, a question; do the cooks of your temple make something called pizza? I had some in Manehatten, and it is the most wonderful creation of mortal or god.” Zeus looked hopefully back at Celestia and Cadence, a coltish grin now home on his lips. “Why am I asking, of course they must. It’s probably required learning for any cook on this world.”

Nodding at his own logic, Zeus stepped out of the throne room, turning to wander deeper into the palace, adding in parting, “Don’t worry, I’ll find a room on my own! I am Zeus, after all!”

Sitting, her anger still boiling below the surface, Celestia turned to Cadence. “What just happened?”

“He… loves you!” Cadence sputtered, her mouth hanging open and eyes two massive saucers. “I sensed it the moment he looked into your eyes. But it just grew and grew as you argued and stood up to him.” Collecting herself, Cadence cringed as she then asked, “Auntie, what are we going to do? We can’t try to throw him out. The consequences to Canterlot…” Cadence finished by shaking her head.

“We are going to do nothing,” Celestia sighed, rubbing her temples and quickly coming to some unpleasant decisions. “You will return to the Crystal City as planned, and you’ll take Luna with you. Please, don’t protest. Spending some time with your mother isn’t the worst thing, and I want her as far away from… him, as possible. If Luna had witnessed what just happened, half of Canterlot would probably be aflame right now.”

Glaring at the still open door, Celestia finished with, “As for my unwanted and unintended ‘guest’, I’ll make certain he doesn’t harm anypony.”