Equestrian Gods

Equestrian Gods: Prologue

Something was pushing. Darkness would come later, what was now was something less, something not quite as tangible. Pushing? No a different concept was needed for what was happening. Escaping. It screamed and began to tear away at the intangibility. It needed a shape... it needed a form... it needed...

-

There was a bird on the marble windowsill, stretching its wings and ruffling its feathers, waking up. It chirped experimentally, testing its voice, and, satisfied with it's steadiness, began to sing. The morning song tripped daintily through the nursery, bouncing lithely off the myriad of toys that were strewn about the floor, making it's way to a large and sturdy crib. The crib in question was a light hickory affair, draped in fabric every shade of soft pink imaginable, and when the soft tunes finally made their way past the translucent canopy they were immediately joined by a gleeful giggle.

Inside the crib the smallest of filly foals lay swaddled in linen so brightly white it would have put the sun to shame. She giggled and laughed as best she could around the hoof she was sucking on, all the while observing the breeze through the artificial canopy with saucer-sized orbs of pure curiosity. Around the little filly there was peace, and the very fabric of reality seemed soothed by her presence.

The bird did not know, after all, it was just a bird, but that very morning it had awoken a deity to her very first day in Equestria. Had this feat been carried out by one of the many talented court musicians who called the royal palace their home it would have been written down in the annals of time. That musician would surely have been counted as one of the greats throughout musical history, lauded with praise for generations to come. Instead there was only a bird, oblivious to the momentous occasion, oblivious to the new-born princess. Celestia giggled.

-

The nursemares were all lined up in a row, haunches against the wall, staring glumly at the floor. The nurse herself was staring brimstone and fire at every last one of them, marching back and forth, determination and anger fuelling her every step.

“This is a disgrace, neigh, a crime!” the white pony brayed. Her ruby red mane, normally coiffed to perfection, hung out from underneath her nurses hat in total disarray, and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, tell tale signs that she had just recently been caught up in the full throes of a sobbing fit. If any of the nursemares had held any illusions about their future job security those illusions had just been dispelled. They were all going to be fired, every last one of them.

“What is this?” the nurse continued, doing an admirable job of bringing her emotions under control. She gestured to a very small, strangely bird shaped radio occupying the floor immediately before her. It was an odd little device. The two knobs on the front were much too small for even the tiniest of hands to operate, and certainly too small for a pony to even dream of using. In fact, the nurse was fairly certain that if any hoof tried to use it the minuscule radio would be left in splinters.

A pleasantly mauve pegasus with vanilla for hair cleared her throat quietly. Her fellow nursemares stared at her with awe and new-found respect. One of them even checked to see if the pegasus' cutie mark had changed to reflect her heroic bravery. She was disappointed.

“It... well it  looks... sort of... like a radio,” by the time she had finished speaking she had been reduced to whispering and was now cowering beneath her forelegs, glancing timidly up at the towering shadow above her that was the head nurse. For a moment the nursemares felt all was lost, but again, with a truly herculean effort, the nurse kept her emotions in check.

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth, “it is indeed a radio. What I am wondering,” she took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly before continuing, “is why this radio was found on the windowsill of the nursery?” Every word felt like a hammer coming down hard on defenceless nails, nails that looked a lot like the nursemares, and not a one of them had an answer to the question, or as they all saw it, the accusation. They looked over at the mauve pegasus, half expecting a repeat, but her last act of chivalry had left her in shambles, and any relief from that source seemed increasingly unlikely.

After staring through the soul of each of her nursemares in turn the head nurse finally gave up. Resigning herself to the inevitable fallout of the situation she made a mental note to seek professional help with resume building that evening, she was going to need it.

“Very well,” she said, “there will be a full scale investigation carried out by the royal guard into each of our living quarters. The investigation will be exceedingly thorough, and I am quite confident that they will be able to find out not just who our culprit is, but also how somepony was able to gain unauthorized entry into the nursery. Although why somepony would be dumb enough to leave evidence behind is beyond me.” The last she mumbled under her breath. She could feel a headache creeping slowly up the base of her neck, and she was afraid only copious abuse of tea would have any success at banishing it. “Lastly, should any of you recall later some piece of information currently eluding you that would be of assistance feel free to let either the guards or myself know. It would be extremely appreciated.”

She dismissed the nursemares with a wave of her hoof and watched them slink away like wounded dogs. Suspicion was eating away at her, but she was far too old and far to experienced to let it get in the way of what was truly important. She gingerly picked the radio up with her teeth and set off on her quest for that steaming cup of tea.