Myths and Birthrights: The Archive

Myths and Birthrights

By Tundara

Part Two: Tremors in the East

Chapter Seven: Southstone Spire

The early evening wind kissed the general's face like a timid lover, ruffling her crest feathers as she lead the remnants of her army towards the aerie below. Southstone Spire, once a proud hub in a prouder empire had seen better days, but she was far from ruin or desolation. Sure, there were far too many paupers in the streets and alleys begging for scraps of food, and the armoury was short on everything except rust. Yet, she still glowed beneath Celestia's sun, the polished copper domes and dark basalt towers thrusting up from the flat plateau atop Kilagrifjaro. Soft white clouds clung to the sides of the mountain, hiding the city from the rolling hills and plains surrounding the solitary peak.

Bells began to ring and horns blare, announcing the army's return. Chicks ran through the wide open streets, chimes hanging from their necks and vests pinning their wings down so they couldn't sneak away from the safety of the aerie. Den mothers trailed the flocks, smiles touching their beaks as they both cajoled and corralled the fledglings. The general winked with her good eye to a group of teens that had perched atop one of the wide balconies that ringed the cities roofs. Soon they'd be able to join the army or one of the trade-halls. Positions were scarce in the trade-halls, but the general had a good feeling that the army would soon be recruiting like never before.

Not only to replenish their ranks after the staggering losses of the Rite of Possession, but to prepare for the future. The other aeries would be coming for Southstone's prize.

And they wouldn't be alone.

The general glanced to her side at the captain carrying Talona. The foal had put up a struggle, but eventually had fallen into a sullen silence. Detaching themselves from the rest of the army, the general and a small company of officers turned towards the massive central towers of the palace. The rest of the army continued towards the barracks and training squares on the north side of the aerie. They would find rest and warm food waiting for them there. The general sighed, wishing she could be with her Brothers and Sisters when the celebrations inevitably began. Despite their losses, a victory was still a victory, no matter how hollow it felt.

There was one griffon who should have been at the feast, who should have been carried through the streets as a hero. Gilda, even thinking the name brought bile and shame into the general's mouth. Why had the fledgling lunged for a Brother? The question had been stuck in the general’s mind, overpowering thoughts even of the filly. She must have known the punishment for striking out with her talons at a Brother. All griffons of the aerie learned as yearlings the penalty for using their talons against another griffon of the aerie; Death.

But Gilda hadn't been of the aerie, she'd been an exile-in-return. The general had only learned this during the flight home, but she should have suspected, she should have taken Gilda aside and explained why her cousin was being sent to the earth. Almost half of the army formed for the Rite had been exiles-in-return. No, she had just assumed that both of the griffons found beneath that tree were Aerie Born.

The general refused to make that mistake again. If she knew her king, and she knew him well, he would draw on the exiles again to fill the army’s ranks. She made a mental note to speak with her captains about better training for those born outside the aerie.

"Where are we?" Talona yawned, slipping out of the claws of the griffon that had carried her as the small group alighted upon a gilded balcony. Blinking, she turned in a small circle, "Why are we here? I want Blinky and Gilly back. Take me back to Blinky and Gilly! I don't like you not-ponies. You're mean."

Surrounded by silence and faces set like stone the filly's ears folded back as she shrunk towards a wall. Stepping slowly forward, the general reached out and laid her claw on the cringing filly's withers.

"Privates Blinka and Gilda are gone, little Talona, returned to the earth from whence all life must spring anew."

"But, they just laid down to sleep. When they wake up—"

"They won't wake up," the general said with a slow shake of her head, her voice unbending but falling soft as feather.

"I don't understand," Talona whimpered.

Pulling Talona gently into the massive tower, the general sighed, "No, I suppose you don't.”

Talona was remarkably silent as the group descended towards the throne room. Guards snapped brisk salutes as the general and her retinue passed, their eyes only wandering for a moment to the small blue form of the alicorn before briskly being set straight ahead again. Murals depicting the long and storied history of the aerie and griffons hung along the walls, each woven from the finest silk threads. Most were faded or damaged, left unpreserved or repaired over the cruel centuries. The images of a few could barely been seen, so old were they.

"What's going to happen to me now?"

"That will be up to the king," the general said as they approached the thick steel banded doors that lead to the throne chamber. The general paused, removing the bandage that covered half her face to reveal a deep gash that had torn out her eye leaving a grisly hole behind. Pus and ointments to counter infection had been applied liberally, but the sight still made the nearby griffons wince or look away. Looking down on the alicorn filly with her remaining eye, the general said, “When we step through that door, you will refer to the King as ‘His Majesty’ or ‘King Pyras’. Answer questions quickly and honestly. Otherwise stay quiet and calm.”

Turning, her talons clicking on the bare stone floors, the general told her captains to wait in the corridor, then she thrust the door open and strode forward every pound of her lean form the conquering hero. At her side, head lifted high and eyes wide and shining, Talona followed. The general’s wings fanned out, creating an umbrella over the alicorn filly. Around them, ceremonial staves thundered from the balconies of the noble prides set into the walls where they could look down on those approaching the throne. Like the nobles’ perches, the throne was set onto a high balcony where everyone had to crane their heads and look up at the King.

Flanking the throne were four massive windows of stained glass, gifts from Celestia and Equestria, depicting the aerie’s founding over five thousand years ago. It was a beautiful scene, with golden and silver griffons alighting upon the flat top of the ancient volcano. In a corner of one window stood a white figure that was barely recognizable as a pony. Some of the nobles believed it was supposed to be Celestia herself and a statement of pony superiority over their long-time enemies. The idea was preposterous, ponies didn’t do such things, and besides, the mane was the wrong colour. It was a ruddy rust red, rather than the dancing aurora that graced the Goddess of the Sun.

Taking her eyes from the windows, and studiously ignoring the whispers of the nobility above and to her sides, the general strode forward, chest puffed out with pride.

As was befitting, the king’s throne was simple, a large ‘U’ shaped stone bowl held on two legs almost like a bench. No carvings or adornment marred the stone. It was a statement of plain honest strength, not one of pretentiousness or false grace. There wasn’t even a rug or cushion, just the small grooves and hollows worn into the surface by countless kings.

King Pyras rose slowly, claws gripping the sides of his throne. Perched on his brow was a golden laurel wreath, taken from a lost civilization from beyond the northern sea, and the one ostentatious sign permitted. On the kings broad chest was a simple hauberk of steel, and at his side was his sword. Long lean muscled stretched and rolled as the king jumped to the floor and strode forward with strength and purpose in each step.

“General Hydros, the Rite of Possession was a week ago, where in the blazes have you and yours been?” The king’s voice was sharp as flint and his eye hard as the foundations of the aerie. Then his hardened facade broke and he grabbed the general by the head and placed his own near her so their brows touched. “You had me worried, sister,” he whispered in private before he broke the embrace and stepped back. “Report, tell your King and his court, were you victorious or is it in defeat you return?”

Here they were, the words the general had longed to speak since she was a chick and inducted, as all the non-heirs of the royal bloodline were, into the army. Holding her head higher, if it was possible, she took in a deep breath, and in a booming voice, said, “My king, we are victorious. The plains of your forefathers and foremothers once more belong to Southstone Spire. None remain to contest your rightful claim. They are yours to hunt and manage as you please.”

King Pyras broke into a hearty laugh, his sides shaking as he let out his mirth and returned to his throne with a few flaps of his magnificent wings.

“Tell me everything. Spare not a detail. I want to hear all about the battle and what caused your delay.” The king took a sip of wine from a table at the side of his throne.

“The battle was glorious and decisive, though cut short. As was agreed, we met Bloodrock in honourable combat, and as they defended their claim to your lands, had brought the larger force. All was not going well, and though we fought with ferocity and bravery, valour ever in our hearts, we were slowly being pushed back. The Bloodrock’s numbers were too great.

"And then, in a great ball of fire, she descended from the sky and smote the Bloodrocks and all those who were beginning to lose hope.” With a flourish, general Hydros pulled her wings to her side revealing the small, blue alicorn filly.

Silence, a moment of it so pure the bards watching from one corner of the chamber would create poems in praise of its beauty and power, hung in the air for but a second before a great clamour erupted from the nobles.

“You bring a pony into these chambers?” screeched minister Talrok of the Shigrifka Pride, the other noble’s stamping their staves in agreement, “And not just a pony, but one of their younglings at that? What madness has possessed you, General Hydros?”

On his throne, the king remained silent and unmoving, his golden eyes never wavering from his younger sister. At last he held up a talon and silence again descended on the chamber, one tense and heavy with anticipation.

“General, this is most inappropriate. Explain the meaning of bringing prey before me.”

Beside her, the general could feel Talona begin to quake. Touching the small pony with the tip of her wing, Hydros gave her a brief grin, and then stepped forward alone.

“My meaning should be plain, your majesty,” she said as she turned and gestured to Talona. “If it pleases you, I would have the High Council of Magistrates tell you what they see.”

Most saw the invitation as the trap it was, but a few of the younger magistrates still spoke up.

“It is a Pegasus. The pony’s wings are clear and plain,” snorted the magistrate from the Phillagrif Pride.

“You are blind, she is a unicorn. It is as clear as the horn upon her brow,” retorted the magistrate from Hippogrif Pride. They had been long known to consort, and in ancient times, even take ponies as mates. The half-breeds produced by such unions still carried the pride’s name, though almost all had been born to exiles for the last dozen generations. The Hippogrif magistrate’s snide voice brought many of the other nobles onto his side, swayed by his supposed expertise.

“You are both wrong, and both right. She does indeed have wings and a horn,” Hydros smirked as both of the nobles who had been called on their mistake glowered. “My King, I present Talona, the avenger of the skies, she who returned your hunting grounds, and an Alicorn.”

There was no moment of silence, no hesitation, just the furious screeching of the nobles as they attempted to scoff at the general’s declaration. King Pyras sat through it all, the calls for the general’s expulsion and exile, the denials, and even the callous laughter. He sat through it all, his mind buzzing with hope. Standing, the king again quieted the chamber.

“An Alicorn you say?” King Pyras said, his words slow and considered. “No Alicorn has graced Kiligrifjaro since Fate herself led us to this peak in the time before time, when the mountains themselves were young and the First Empire ruled all beneath its gaze.” Leaping from his balcony, the King passed Hydros to stand above the visibly shaking filly. Her eyes darted from griffon to griffon watching from their balconies as the King addressed her. “Tell me, in your own voice, what is your name?”

Hesitating, and eyes seeking permission from Hydros, Talona said in a trembling voice, “Blinky gave me the name Talona. I liked Blinky.”

“Blinky?” the King turned his attention to the general, though his eyes never wavered from their piercing gaze on the filly.

“Private Blinka, exile-in-return, your majesty. She and her cousin were the first to find Talona. Blinka was returned to the earth.”

“I see,” the simple statement made the general’s back shiver. It was a statement that said that a full accounting of events would happen in due time. “Now, little one, tell me, who are you?”

“I’m Talona?” the filly said, confusion clear in her voice as she looked from griffon to griffon.

“Not your name, but who you are, little one,” the king said pacing around Talona to inspect her from every angle. “What is your place in this world? I am Pyras of the Grifagon Pride, King and sovereign of Southstone Spire and all the lands that fall beneath her gaze.”

Talona hesitated, her mouth opening and closing a few times as her young innocent mind attempted to comprehend the king’s question. Then she brightened, the sun seeming to shine across her fur and making it glow. “Oh, I know this one!” She began to dance about, singing the words over and over, head swaying from side to side and little wings buzzing.

“Talona, answer the King,” Hydros said, cutting through the filly’s joy.

“Um, oh,” Talona settled down, a slightly sullen scowl on her face at her fun being interrupted. Looking up at the king, she puffed out her little chest, and in her high voice said, “I am Talona, daughter of Wisdom and Retribution.”

“Wisdom and Retribution,” Pyras chuckled, “How fitting. Very well, Talona.” Lifting his head to stare at all the magistrates while looking at none, his clear eyes taunting and cowing all who looked upon him, he continued, “I take Talona, daughter of Wisdom and Retribution into my Pride. Henceforth, she shall be known as Talona, daughter of Wisdom and Retribution, scion of the Grifagon, princess of Southstone Spire. Should any wish to challenge this claim, speak now and the Rite of Possession shall commence.”

The king hardly paused a moment before he thrust out his broad wings, a wide grin on his face. To the thunderous report of the Magistrates staves banging, he turned back to the once again confused filly. Placing a claw on the side of her face, talons lightly brushing through her mane, he whispered, “Welcome to your new home, my daughter.”

* * *

Twilight gave an exasperated sigh, her eyes flitting across different reports from members of the royal guard and the Information, Secrets, and Intelligence Specialists, or ISIS. Twilight had heard of the select group of ponies that served as spies and were Celestia’s eyes and ears throughout Equestria, and apparently beyond, but she hadn’t really believed they existed.

The reports all centered around a single focus, locating the remaining alicorns that had travelled with Tyr from where ever it was she had come from. Tyr herself had been unable to give little more than rudimentary information. She could name her home, The Citadel of Light, who her parents were, Aphrodite, the goddess of Love, and Apollo, the god of Duty. The names of her aunts, cousins, sister, and so on she refused to divulge. Twilight found this perplexing, but Celestia and Cadence both seemed certain that when she was ready, Tyr would open up more about her origins.

Twilight had hoped that there would have been a clue as to why the foal and two other missing alicorns would be sent to Equestria. Assuming they'd been sent. Celestia seemed to believe it was the case, but remained tight lipped as to why she believed it.

Being sent meant they had come from somewhere, that limited the possibilities to somewhere else on Ioka —Celestia and Luna were adamant this was not the case— or some-when else.

Twilight had a little experience with time-travel, having on her very first night as an ascended alicorn accidentally sent herself and Luna to visit Celestia a thousand years in the past. A both minor and significant event, according to Celestia. All they'd done, after-all, was just spend time sharing wine and stories. But it had given Celestia the strength to carry on until Luna's return.

Still, time-travel was a very far fetched idea, unless Cadence changed her name at some point. There was also the minor issue that Twilight had used a Wish when she and Luna had gone back in time, and that had only lasted a few hours before they were sent home. It had been a month and a half since Tyr appeared, and there was no indication she was going to vanish.

There was another possibility; Tyr was from another world.

Magical theory said it was possible that other worlds existed, there was Tartarus and Elysium after-all. Though, philosophers and the Sisterhood tended to argue whether they were separate worlds or just layers below and above the disc, respectively. Twilight had read, and re-read, the theories of other worlds, and she had to admit they seemed sound. But they'd never been proven.

Having a working theory on where the alicorns were from did nothing to help find them though. To take her mind off her family problems Twilight had offered to help Celestia go through the various stacks of reports and missives from Celestia’s intelligence network. It was exhaustive work requiring painstakingly reading hundreds of dry reports. Exactly what Twilight needed.

Beside her, nestled up in his basket and covered by a checkered blanket, lay Spike. The small dragon had insisted on staying with Twilight when she had presented the options of returning to Ponyville without her following the coronation or staying with her foster family. On the same perches used in the library sat Owlowiscious and Peewee.

At least little had changed with them, unlike almost everypony else. Spike was a little miffed about being away from Rarity, but when the fashionista and other Elements had returned to Ponyville, each promising to visit at some point soon, he’d been placated a little. The same could not be said for all of Twilight’s family.

Guilt bubbled a little in Twilight’s stomach. She’d hardly said two words to her dad since all the madness of her Awakening had begun. She tried once to visit him, but had lost her nerve and turned around before reaching Sparkle Manor. He was hurt, she could tell by the little ways his eyes crinkled, like he was crying with no tears. She just didn’t know what to say. She’d never been extremely close with her father, and now, he felt almost like a stranger. Her mother and herd-mothers had taken it more in stride. Glitterdust and Whisper even stayed in Canterlot for a few days following the coronation to help Twilight adjust while Comet and Velvet had gone to the manor with Cadence, Shining and Tyr.

But what really rankled Twilight was the one question she had failed to ask. If Iridia was her mother, then who was her father? In retrospect it seemed like the most obvious of questions, and it hadn’t been asked for hours. Twilight was unsure if it ever would have been brought up if not for Applejack.

The answer almost troubled Twilight as much as not thinking of the question herself.

Iridia just shrugged and said, “I never really bothered to learn his name, or much about him. I found the most promising physical candidate I could, bedded him, and that is that. I doubt he even knows of your existence, and if he did, well, cultural differences being as they are, he wouldn’t care much now that you’re an adult. Maybe he’d have some pride at having sired a Goddess, but beyond that?”

Twilight sat in stunned silence along with the other elements while Celestia and Luna both glowered at their aunt. It had again been Applejack who said what needed saying.

“Now, reign that in, you’re saying you ain’t got no idea who Twilight’s Pa is? Didn’t you think that would be kinda important for her to know when you were making your big escape to come barge into her life?”

Iridia looked genuinely surprised and confused, then she threw her head back letting out a long peel of deep laughter.

“Oh, I can find out in an instant just by looking at my daughter the name of her parents, and all their ancestors back to the binding of the first soul to a mortal coil. It does nothing to tell me about them, however. Okay, give me a moment.” Iridia stopped her laughing, wiping away a tear of mirth before she set her eyes on Twilight.

The stars in Twilight’s mane prickled, glowing brighter as she felt something wash over her. She wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but it felt a bit like when Twilight and Luna touched while controlling the night. Except it was cold, oh so cold, not like mint or the slight chill of an ice-box, but like the deepest darkest night of the arctic, a frost so biting that not even the sun could bring it warmth.

Shivering, Twilight snapped, “Stop it.”

At once she felt the touch withdraw and warmth began to seep into her again. Panting a little, Twilight pressed a hoof to her chest to help still her suddenly racing heart. She felt like she’d just been attacked, but couldn’t see the attacker, or like a great eye was watching her, plotting and scheming, whispering behind her back. The sensation left her coat crawling, and she could see stars.

“Oh, my,” Fluttershy whimpered, and as Twilight blinked, she realised she was seeing stars.

Polaris, Ankaa, Phad, and Antares all hovered between their mistress and Iridia. Each glowed with a soft dangerous light that gently pulsed and roiled from the stars’ hearts. She could hear Polaris and Luna both asking if she was alright, and Iridia profusely apologizing, but it all washed together as Twilight tried to control her anxiety. Above her, Twilight sensed all the other stars had diverted their attention to the scene in the garden a short distance from the feasting and dancing of the gala.

“I’m sorry, I-I’ve not touched another Alicorn with my essence since... Since the dark times. I didn’t mean to... I didn’t know it’d be... I-I, I’ll take my leave,” Iridia turned, and before anypony could call her to stop, spread her wings and flew towards the small room Celestia had said her aunt could use.

Their postures heavy with guilt and surprise, Celestia and Luna both approached from where they had been watching while Twilight introduced her birth mother to her friends. Celestia gave the four stars a long considering look, the small points of light buzzing over to dance in front of her nose before zipping back to Twilight and circling about her like a halo.

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” Celestia cautiously began.

Twilight’s ears perked up, and she gave a weary chuckle.

“Sorry? What do you have to be sorry about? That my mom was a blood thirsty tyrant from the pre-classical era? That she cares so little for other ponies she didn’t even bother to learn my father’s name before seducing him and bearing me? Or that her touch is like being plunged into the Arctic Ocean?” Twilight gave her mentor, no, she silently corrected herself, her cousin, a cheeky sort of half-grin in an effort to lighten the mood. It could do little to lift the odd weight that she felt between her shoulders.

Trying to smile in return, Celestia said, “No, for not sending her away the moment she stepped into the throne room.”

Chewing on her lower lip, Twilight asked the real question she had wanted to ask, but had been too afraid to speak aloud, since Iridia first told her story.

“How much of what she said was the truth?” Twilight hesitated and almost retracted the question as she saw a flash of pain behind Celestia’s ancient eyes.

“It was a mix of truth and guilt. Some of what she said, while technically true, was blown a little out of proportion. That crack about her being worse than Nightmare Moon, for instance. That is only technically true because I was able to combat Luna so much easier. This was due in part because of our natures, Night versus Day, Moon against the Sun, but also because I was older, wiser, and more practiced in magic, ruling a nation, and in fighting. Luna and I were barely over a century old when Iridia fell. Her fall, it wasn’t like what happened to Luna. There was no great shift, no flashing lightening and monologues, no physical change, but then again, Iridia is an Intangible. Just a coldness as she cut her heart off from knowing joy and pleasure and gave into the desire for revenge.”

“Revenge?” Rarity covered her mouth with a hoof. “Whatever could she have wanted revenge for?”

“The murder of her first-born.”

Luna’s words cut through the garden and sent a shiver up Twilight’s spine. The stars about her twirled faster, and she felt them send comforting thoughts down to her. Twilight had suspected, but she hadn’t been positive. She knew that there had to be a reason a pony would do the things history attributed to Iridia. Or maybe, she’d just hoped that there was, that she wasn’t the daughter of a monster.

The other Elements all hugged Twilight closer.

“Murder? Who would murder another pony?” Rarity clutched Twilight harder as the words escaped her lips.

Celestia gave a slow shake of her head after shooting her sister a scathing glare.

“It is a tale I don’t care to re-tell right now. Someday, Twilight, you will learn the details, but not tonight. It is probably better to hear it from your mother, even if the story is liable to be embellished again."

Accepting Celestia’s idea, and deciding that she’d pry the truth from Iridia if she had to, Twilight, her friends, and the princesses joined the party.

It had been almost a month since that night, and Twilight still hadn’t heard the full story about her older sister. She’d tried to bring it up with Iridia, but the Queen steadfastly refused to discuss the topic further than she had the first night. In desperation, Twilight had even gone to her mom, but Velvet had admitted to only knowing the legends and oral history shared among those that had watched over Iridia’s statue form.

Twilight shivered, the scroll she’d been staring blankly at for a half hour dropping from her magic. The story had to be false. Ponies couldn’t have done the things in Velvet Sparkle’s tale. She wasn’t naive enough to fully believe the sanitized history taught in schools across Equestria. Celestia had all but admitted when Twilight was younger to toning down certain events to ease the minds of her subjects. But to imagine them capable of the events in the story chilled her marrow.

It had been very poetic, Velvet had a certain flair for telling a story, but filled with darkness and sadness. Her sister had been not murdered exactly, but torn asunder by unicorns seeking to steal her immortality. Their spell had failed and destroyed the unicorns, but Iridia couldn’t be satisfied with just their deaths, and so she plunged the world into the cold that she felt with her daughter’s death.

That part confused Twilight the most. According to Luna, Alicorns were effectively immortal. Their bodies could be destroyed, but so long as what they represented still existed, than in time they’d be able to reform, or be reborn, or something. Luna wasn’t too certain as the only Alicorn to have their physical form destroyed was Twilight’s sister. She still didn’t even know her sister’s name.

A knock on her door brought Twilight out of her thoughts. Looking over the letters in front of her she was disappointed to see she had only managed to read and a few in the few hours peace she’d had.

“Princess Twilight,” came the voice of one of the guards stationed outside Twilight’s room. “You asked us to remind you when it was time for Nightcourt.”

“Yes, yes,” Twilight sighed, gathering up the scrolls. She’d have to finish reading them in the morning before going to bed. As she stood a single word caught her eye on the next scroll in the pile. Lifting the scroll quickly Twilight scanned its contents, a troubled frown on her face followed by a slight grin.  “Found one of you.”

Rolling up the scroll, she slipped out into the corridor, an excited skip in her step.

* * *

Silence broken only by the steady rhythmic tic-tock of a grandfather clock filled manor of Fancy Pants and Fleur de Lis. All was dark, the window blinds drawn shut to hide away from the gaze of the street. Only in the window of the master bedroom was silence and shadow absent.

Fleur sat at her writing desk, a house-coat wrapped around her shoulders, a pot of steaming tea beside her, and a candle gently flickering from a sconce set in the wall. In her gentle golden-yellow magic hovered a quill, the tip dipping into an open inkwell before being returned to the open pages of a journal. Most of the page was already covered in Fleur's flowing cursive writing, little loops and flourishes showing throughout the script.

Again, the dreams have come. That makes it the third time this week. They seem to be gaining frequency and strength. Fancy had to shake me awake this time, and when he did he claims my eyes were glowing white with a building magical charge.

My dear, beloved Fancy believes it is time I bring my problems to the Princesses. One must have some idea of what is happening to me. But it feels so foalish and silly. All the other races dream, why must it be a worry that I too dream? But he is right. These are more than just dreams. We are Unicorn, and unicorns dream but once a year. I have had dozens now, the pages of this journal filled with the adventures and terrors I have seen.

Tonight I was again in the Citadel of Light. I stood in the Chamber of Thrones, as I've taken to calling it. One of the thrones was missing this time, so I believe this dream was further back than normal. Celestia's look alike, Hemera sat upon her throne, the golden sash hiding her missing eyes present, and though she was blind I knew she was staring at me. She knew I had stolen her crown and I was ready to face my punishment. I seemed almost relieved, actually. I suppose my counter-part has no taste for lying to and manipulating her Aunt after-all.

My counter-part. Odd to think of her that way, when I see with her eyes and speak with her tongue. It is as if I am her, in the dreams.

Fancy seems to think that these aren't just mere dreams. I have begun to agree.

The elements are too common between the dreams, even though they are jumbled and out of order. One night I will be a filly running through fields beneath the gaze of a pony looking remarkably similar to Princess Cadence, or clutching a stallion's neck as he flies over lush fields and pleasant simple villages. Other nights are filled with such terrible things. So much blood and suffering. And though I know the fault is mine, I don't know what I have done to cause so much despair and misery.

Tonight held a small clue, perhaps.

Hemera forbade me to look for some-pony named Nyx . She went on to say she was aware of the actions of my co-conspirator and I. 'The Sun sees all that happens beneath her light,' she snarled, and for a moment I thought she would strike me down. But she did not, and left soon after to return to the mountain's peak and her solitude.

Cowed, I returned to my chambers in the Citadel, and there the one known as Authea was waiting. The small alicorn, much smaller than my dream-self, seemed to glow with a bright pink light as we talked. It was like looking on the sun, only instead of being blinded and stung, the light was soft and comforting like the moon. Authea was curious why her mother had descended from her solitary vigil atop the mountain.

I lied, said it was nothing of any great significance. I believe Authea saw through my deception, but I can't be sure. Normally I am very good at reading a pony's face, and she seemed to accept my lie, but she knows things. Things she shouldn't know. Before departing, she gave me a wink, and said, 'Ne vous inquiétez pas Fleur, tout se passe bien à la fin.' Though I understood what she said easily, and the message couldn't have been but for me, my other self was confused. Authea didn't even seem to know what she said, brushing it off as a 'Hope thing' before bouncing out of the room.

That uncomfortable buzzing sensation began again while we talked and danced around my meeting with Hemera. I still have no idea what it means, if anything at all.

In a few hours I will meet with the Nightcourt. I will bring this journal, perhaps Luna or Twilight will have some idea what is happening to me. At the very least it may bring some peace to Fancy, and after what I put him through during the Celebration of Life, he deserves that much at least.

Cleaning her quill, Fleur waited for the ink to dry before closing the journal and slipping it into a saddlebag. Trotting over to her bed, she gently nuzzled Fancy as he slept, and whispered into his ear, "I'll see you in the morning, bien-aimée."

Fancy stirred a little as Fleur withdrew. He would perhaps be a little upset that she left him behind, especially with how hard he was pushing Fleur to speak to one of the princesses. But something told Fleur that this wasn't something that involved him, silly as it seemed. He tried so hard to protect and support her, and for once, Fleur both didn't want and thought it would be a bad idea to involve Fancy. She was the matron, and it was supposed to be the matron who protected the rest of the herd, even if it was a herd of two.

Slipping on a light cloak to ward off the chill of Canterlot's spring night, Fleur stepped out onto the street, softly closing and locking the manor behind her.

Few ponies were in the streets of Canterlot so late in the evening. A few drunken young mares and stallions staggered their way home from the nightclubs. The occasional pair of royal guards strode past, eyes fixed ahead but taking in everything around them. Near one of the terrace edges of the city that hung over the Equis Valley so far below sat a group of stargazers.

Fleur paused in her walk, checking a nearby clock-tower to see she still had several minutes to spare before her the Nightcourt opened. She then took in the beauty of the night sky created by Luna and Twilight. A thin smile managed to tug at her lips as she watched a pair of stars twirl and dance high above the Dragonsmoke Mountains beyond the town of Ponyville.

The night sky had become far more active in recent weeks, with the stars hardly sitting still for more than a few moments. Fleur couldn't help but chuckle as a couple of young lovers cooed at the stars' display while a pair of older stallions with night themed cutie marks just shook their heads and grumbled softly. Mutterings of discontent about the changes to the night had been growing.

Even the other ambassadors and embassies had voiced concerns, letters and missives from their homelands arriving asking about the sudden alterations and odd occurrences in the night. The Minoan delegation had gone so far as to proclaim the dancing stars a sign of the End Days. Most of the other ambassadors had just rolled their eyes at the Minotaurs; not a week went by where something wasn't a harbinger of the end of the world, according to them. During tea one day, the Zebrican ambassador had voiced concerns, which had surprised Fleur. She had always admired the calm level headed zebra, the shock of seeing him slam his tea down and exclaim that Twilight had no right re-arranging the stars had left her almost speechless. After a few seconds she had managed to stutter out a few words to the effect that Twilight was the Goddess of the Stars, and it was up to her what the stars did or did not do.

Fleur had quickly excused herself and returned to her home before the zebra could respond, her thoughts spinning and unsettled.

Not everypony was concerned or upset with the changes. Like the young lovers on the terrace, there were many who loved the displays. Painters, musicians, and poets in particular flocked to the stars antics, immortalizing the spectacle in their art.

Fancy Pants was more interested in the stars than Fleur, as a rule of hoof, and had been delighted when the stars had begun their dancing. He had even hosted a few mid-night garden parties. Fancy had tried to invite the princesses, but both had been too busy with royal matters to attend. Fancy, bless his kind nature, had offered to host another party when the princesses were available. Luna, in particular, had been grateful. Twilight had tried to demure and find an excuse to not attend, but it was hard to outright deny an invitation given in earnest good intent.

Fleur had to wonder how the new, high strung, princess was handling the complaints.

Not very well, Fleur learned when she reached the palace.

A small crowd stood outside the doors to the Nightcourt, quietly muttering to each other while a pair of Luna's Nightguards stood at attention. Through the ancient, magic hardened, oak doors Twilight's voice could be heard, the Traditional Royal Canterlot Voice being employed to its fullest power.

"The Stars are MINE to guide and protect, understand Lord Parallax? If I want them to spell out the recipe for dandelion soup, I can have them do that! The next time you try to tell me what the Stars can or cannot do I'll—"

Twilight's voice trailed off as Luna, presumably, calmed her cousin. Several long minutes of absolute silence filled the corridor, the other petitioners all looking to each other with wide frightened eyes and ears pressed flat. When the door to the chamber opened and Lord Parallax slipped out, his head hanging low and tail dragging, the entire collection of ponies gulped. Behind the noble stepped Quick Quill, the chief seneschal and aide to Luna.

"If any other pony out there wants to complain about the stars and night sky, I strongly urge you to reconsider for this eve," she said, looking over her shoulder to where the princesses sat. "Princess Twilight is not in the most... temperate of dispositions tonight."

Fleur laughed, covering her mouth with a hoof as scalding glares were directed her way. In all her years in the palace, she'd never heard one of the princesses' aides come so close to telling ponies to not bring their issues to the court. The gathered ponies heeded the warning, leaving in twos and threes until only Fleur remained.

"Ambassador, odd to see you at Nightcourt," Quick Quill said when the last of the malcontents had left. "You have business with the princesses?" The question was more of sincere surprise than curiosity. Almost none of the ambassadors ever had business with the Nightcourt, even with Luna being half of the diarchy.

Despite Celestia trying to include her sister in the running of the nation, most other lands still took their issues and dealings directly to the Sun Princess. She was the princess that they had dealt with for centuries, and they were simply more comfortable maintaining the status quo. Even Fleur was guilty of taking Prance's proposals or issues to the Daycourt and Celestia rather than trying to speak to Luna.

"Oui, this is more a personal issue," Fleur blushed a little as she followed Quick Quill into the throne room.

Luna sat on her obsidian throne, a smirk beneath her twinkling eyes, leaning down to speak with Twilight. The younger princess sat on a simple velvet cushion, her head hanging low. It was hard to tell, but Fleur was sure she saw a deep blush on Twilight's cheeks. Both princesses looked over to Fleur as she entered and performed a short bow.

"Ambassador Fleur de Lis, it is a pleasure to see you at our court," Luna said in a formal tone, holding her head high. "To what pleasure do you come before the Nightcourt?"

Fleur licked her lips, and for a moment she considered lying and returning home to her thick covers and the warm embrace of her husband. It'd be so simple, and they were just dreams. It was silly to talk to the princesses of the night about dreams, wasn't it? Fleur shook herself out of her reverie, realizing she'd been standing silent for too long while the princess awaited her response.

Taking a deep breath, Fleur plunged into the truth.

"I've been having dreams ever since my time in Ponyville. They've been growing both in frequency and in... intensity. This morning my husband had to shake me awake and claimed I was on the verge of a magic surge. I... I, Ô Célestia, donnez-moi le courage, I don't know what to believe."

As Fleur spoke Luna's face grew from amused to long and grim, her eyes taking a dark cast like a moonless night.

"Dreams," Luna's voice was cold as the most bitter winter wind, "visit any unicorn but once in the year. It has been so since,” Luna’s eyes briefly darted to Twilight before returning to Fleur, “before the founding of Equestria. What you are experiencing may seem like a dream, but they cannot be one."

Fleur bowed her head a little.

“I realize that, of course, your majesty. Which is why I have brought you a diary of what I’ve experienced.”

“A Dream Journal?” Twilight asked, clapping her hooves together. “I used to keep one myself. Can I read yours?”

Removing the diary from her saddle-bags, Fleur was a little surprised when her golden aura of magic was quickly over powered by a magenta glow and the book sailed across the room to hover in front of Twilight. For several long minutes Twilight hummed to herself as she skimmed the entries, pages flipping quickly. She stayed on a few pages for some time, re-reading an entry or staring at a particular word or sentence. Fleur felt a slight blush touch her cheeks as her private thought were laid bare before two of the most important and influential ponies. At last Twilight lifted the book up and almost shoved it under Luna’s nose.

“Look here, look what it says,” Princess Twilight almost babbled, her words tumbling over their selves in her excitement.

“I don’t see... Wait. Oh my. This is interesting,” Luna said, tapping her chin as she read the page three times. “So, that is another accounted for, then,” Luna gave Fleur a wide smile, one that set the hairs on the back of the ambassador’s neck on edge.

Leaning over, Luna whispered something to her seneschal, something that made the earth pony go pale. She bowed quickly to Luna before scampering out of the hall. The diary floated back to Fleur in a blue-white aura as Twilight stood. For a few minutes the two princesses seemed to talk, though their lips never moved. They would giggle, roll their eyes, or make the facial expressions of conversation leading Fleur to suspect they were using some Alicorn magic to talk.

Eventually, the doors to the throne room sung open. It took all Fleur’s experience not to betray her surprise as Iridia strode into the hall. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, though she carried her head high and her stride was even. Drawing even with Fleur, the ancient alicorn never took her gaze off Twilight.

“You requested to see me, daughter?” Iridia asked, stifling a yawn with her wing.

“Um, yes,” Twilight said, fidgeting a little on her cushion. “I need you to look at Ambassador Fleur and tell me what you see.”

Without so much as moving her head, Iridia said, “I see a mare in her early thirties. Very pretty, in the Celestian manner, for those with an eye for such things.”

Rolling her eyes, Twilight said with a slight huff, “That’s not what I meant, mother. I need you to look at her. With your Awareness, not your eyes.”

An ever so slight smile touching her lips, Iridia winked up at her daughter. “I know, I just wanted to see if I could get a rise out of you.” Adjusting her gaze to Fleur, Iridia said, “Now, don’t worry, this won’t hurt at all.”

Fleur shifted uncomfortably, looking between the expectant princesses and Queen Iridia. Fleur tried to understand what the princess was talking about and what she meant by Awareness, but again, she suspected it was alicorn business. She couldn’t help but feel that Iridia was staring through her, rather than seeing her. Fleur’s skin began to crawl, a deep buzzing sensation filling her head. Through the candle filled chandeliers blew an ill wind making the flames dance and cast a grim mask across the Queen’s face. For a moment Fleur saw not a pony sitting before her, but a white spectre of death.

With a cry, Fleur reared, front hooves kicking the empty air as Iridia jumped back with a quick flick of her wings. From Fleur’s ears and mouth poured a thick soupy smoke whitish-pink in colour. Around her it coiled, wrapping about the unicorn like a shroud until it covered Fleur completely. Unable to think through the buzz filling her head, Fleur slumped forward inside the smoke. From her eyes flowed forth golden light, and two wings of smoke swept toward Iridia.

“Spite, I will not allow your trickery to harm this one,” Fleur snarled, her voice a resonating hiss that bubbled and popped. “Die!”

A scream, clear as crystal and sharp as shattered glass, erupted from Fleur’s throat as she launched herself toward Iridia. A lance of magic burst from Fleur’s horn, striking the Queen in the chest and knocking her back. Leaping forward, Luna and Twilight both summoned spells, Twilight encasing her mother in a protective pink shell while Luna struck Fleur down with a beam of moonlight. The smoke enshrouding Fleur hissed and spun about the unicorn, another scream rolling from her tongue. She began to turn towards Luna, curses ready to be flung at the princess, when the smoke seemed to quiver, and then retreat back into Fleur. Free of the smoke’s physical grip, Fleur stood for a moment before toppling onto her side, gasping for breath. Slowly the noise filling her head began to recede and she could think clearly again.

Through the doors to the throne room burst a squadron of guards, the darkly armoured Nightguard taking quick stock of the scene before descending towards the princesses and Fleur. Blinking her eyes clear, Fleur looked up to see a pair of Nightguards standing over her, the edge of their wings pressed beneath her throat. All it would take would be a twitch and the magic of the Nightguards would slice through her delicate skin and sinew as if it were water. Wanting to ask what had just happened, but terrified by the dark look in the pegasi’s eyes, Fleur lay absolutely still.

“Mother, are you alright?” Twilight shouted, a clear note of panic in her voice, as she rushed to the fallen queen.

“I-I am unharmed, mostly,” Iridia groaned as Twilight assisted her to her hooves. “I am too old for this sort of excitement,” she muttered as she looked at the black mark and burnt skin on the left side of her chest.

“You’re hurt,” Luna stated, the surprise and astonishment clear in her voice.

“I’ll be fine in a day or two,” Iridia shrugged. “I may not have the sturdiness of a Physical Alicorn, but I am not some flower that can be trampled upon.”

“Should we summon a medic?” queried one of the guards, a lieutenant by his armour.

“No,” Iridia said forcefully, shrugging off her daughter’s help to stand on wavering hooves. “I said I will be fine, and I meant it. She just caught me by surprise.”

“Are you sure? I mean, it might be better if—.”

“Twilight, daughter, I said I am fine, and I mean it.” The note of finality in Iridia’s voice was clear; they were all to drop the subject. “Now, I believe you wanted me to have a look at that one and tell you what I saw, yes?”

“Um, yes,” Twilight said, more than a little shocked by everything that had happened. With a word and gesture, she indicated the guards were to release Fleur.

“You’re majesties, I beg your forgiveness, I don’t know what happened, I just—.”

“Shush, calm you self, Fleur de Lis, you are not to blame.” Iridia waved a dismissive hoof. “As for what I saw; it was both Fleur de Lis and somepony by the name of—.”

A terrible shriek filled the hall, tearing itself through and from Fleur as Iridia spoke the smoke’s true name. Falling to her knees, Fleur continued the terrible noise for a moment before voiding her stomach onto the thick royal carpet. Trembling, she hardly noticed when Twilight wrapped a wing about her like she was a filly.

“What was that?” the young alicorn asked, seeking help from her mother and cousin.

“She is two souls becoming one,” Luna said. Pity filled her eyes as she looked down on Fleur. “Those are not dreams that fill her journal, but memories as you suspected, Twilight. I suspect that it’s not a complete soul, however.” Luna looked to Iridia for confirmation.

Cringing, the queen gave it reluctantly. Slowly, she sat down in front of Fleur, careful to avoid the pile of sick.

“Fleur, do you know what I am?”

Head still spinning, it took Fleur a few moments to register the question and slowly shake her head. She knew the whispers the other ambassadors had been saying. Iridia was a topic as popular as Twilight in the past weeks. She would have been even more popular if not for the displays of the stars and the queen’s penchant for avoiding most ponies other than the princesses. As the ambassador from Prance, Fleur’s knowledge had been picked by the other ambassadors for clues about the queen. There was little Fleur could tell them other than she vaguely recalled the name from the pre-classical era, from when Prance was divided into the Pegasi City States, the Unicorn Kingdom, and the Earth Pony Confederacy under the hooves of the other two races.

Iridia began to talk, but Fleur just couldn’t follow what the queen was saying. She caught a few words here or there, but not enough to make sense of what she was being told. A couple times Twilight asked for clarification about something, and Fleur tried to wrest control of her scattered thoughts to listen. It was a futile effort, and Fleur’s eyes took on a glassy sheen as she began to stare off into space as all thought ground to a resounding halt.

A pony calling her name several time slowly got the gear and cogs in Fleur’s head to begin to spin again.

“Je m'excuse, my thoughts are so hazy,” Fleur mumbled.

“You’ve been staring off into space for the last half hour,” Luna said with a worried frown. “Are you sure she is alright?” the princess of the night asked Iridia, quirking a brow.

“You were there with me when this happened last time. That Fleur hasn’t burnt into a shattered husk is amazing as it is.” Iridia didn’t quite snap, but her tone was strained and she leaned to her right with very little pressure on her left fore-leg.

“Well, I’m not sure if I like this plan, and I know Celestia will like it even less.” Luna’s wings fluttered at her sides with agitation as she spoke.

“You read her journal, and you’ve read the report from Griffonia. I think it is important that she comes.” Twilight tapped a hoof to her chin as she looked down on the prone ambassador.

“Griffonia?” Fleur asked as she struggled to her hooves. She felt so weak, like tea made with too much water. Wavering on her hooves, she waited an explanation, one she hoped she’d actually hear.

“Fleur, I’m going to be going on a bit of a journey tomorrow. As I’m sure you know the other nations have been concerned by the displays of my stars, and it would be good to have their concerns addressed. There is also a small matter of cosmological important in the Griffonia city of Southstone Spire that needs attending, and I believe you are tied to it.”

“Me?” Fleur tried to contain her surprise, but failed spectacularly as her jaw almost hit the floor.

“Your entry from two weeks ago, it spoke about a ‘dream’ in which you were giving birth to a foal,” Twilight said, her voice falling into a lecturing tone. Heat flared across Fleur’s face as she remembered that particular dream and the confusion it had caused. She’d spent hours wandering the manor looking for a foal. A foal that she eventually came to believe didn’t exist. Not noticing Fleur’s sudden discomfort, Twilight continued, “Earlier this evening we received a report from Griffonia of a foal matching the description you gave in your journal.”

Fleur felt her blood chill, her blush vanishing as all the blood drained from her face.

“You mean my daughter is real? She lives?”

The three alicorns shifted uncomfortably.

“You must have missed the explanation of what is happening to you,” Twilight sighed, her wings dragging down by a heavy weight. “She’s not your daughter. Those dreams you’re having, they are memories of a ghost or spirit or something that defies classification. There is another soul inside you, and the two of you are slowly,” Twilight tapped her hooves together, “merging, for lack of a better term. It’s something far outside accepted magical study or practice and none of us can really say what will happen to you. I mean, Necromancy and the study of Souls was outlawed by all nations during the signing of the Treaty of Magical Ethics in the year one hundred and three, Equestrian Reckoning. Before that, especially in the pre-classical era, attempts were seen as taboo and done by only the most amoral magic users. Books on the subject were destroyed by authorities on discovery. I doubt there is even anything in the forbidden archives of the Royal Library."

Taking a moment to let what she'd said sink in, Twilight added, "Using the Elements of Harmony is a possibility... but it's impossible to tell what they will do to restore the harmony within you. They could remove this other entity or... forcefully merge you."

Luna quickly agreed with Twilight while Fleur sat in quiet shock. Sure, she had begun to suspect they were memories and not dreams, she’d written as much in her diary. But it seemed too fanciful to really be the truth. She had come to the Nightcourt expecting to be told that what she was experiencing had been seen before. There might have been a few spells involved, but the princesses would sort it out and Fleur would be able to return to her normal life.

To hear that the princesses had only a theory of what was happening with no way to actually help pressed down on Fleur like a terrible weight. Carefully, Fleur pulled out the diary, flipping it open to skim various entries. Like fireflies, her eyes darted across the pages, a few words enough to bring back the memory-dreams in their entirety. She stopped on the pages that detailed the birth of the nameless foal. Silent tears crept into the corners of her eyes as she relived a memory that was not her own, and one she dearly wished was.

Lifting her head, Fleur asked, “You’re sure that the filly in Griffonia is the one from my diary?”

“I can’t say it is for certain, but, yes, I am almost positive.”

Snapping the book shut, Fleur looked at the three alicorns one by one, searching for something that would dissuade her from what she was about to say. Nothing presented itself, and saying a silent prayer for Fancy Pants to forgive her, she said, “When do we leave?”