In Memoriam

by Bachiavellian

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Princess Luna, Original Character, Adventure, Princess Celestia
Length: 3245

In the wake horrible loss, two ponies struggle to help a young pair of princesses fix a broken world.

A young singer and an old soldier are all that's left to watch over the next Princesses of the Realms. He searches for answers while she cares for them in their home, hidden away from greater dangers.

Entry for Obselescence's The Most Dangerous Game Contest

Now edited by Blood Lord.

Published 2014-06-28 04:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-28 04:00:01 UTC

In Memoriam

The loom was simple in its design. Between two sets of legs rested a large, rectangular frame that bore straw-brown threads tightly stretched across its length. WIth her hooves, Cantata turned the frame along a set hinge in its center, folding the threads against each other. The wooden joint groaned from the tautness in the threads as they were worked.

In a magical grasp, Cantata held a wooden shuttle that carried a length of yarn across the frame, threading it between each crisscross of string. Folding the loom again to weave the threads together, she sent the shuttle back to the other side, repeating the process.

The shuttle drew thread straight from a laden spindle, which floated in its own golden-brown aura as it followed the shuttle’s path from one side of the loom to the other again. Earlier that day while the sun was still high, Cantata had spun the thread from the stems of flaxy reeds that grew by the river. Now, she worked by firelight.

The end of one of the last truly long days of summer was quickly approaching. The western horizon held the last glimmers of oranges and purples while the east was consigned to darkness. The shadows of hills and mountains engulfed the land in darkness. The only light for miles around flickered out through the unglazed window of the weaver’s cabin which sat at the edge of the woods that blanketed the hills.

Cantata took a moment to inspect her progress. The cloth was coarse and rough; its yarn was spun from the stems of flaxy reeds that grew by the river that flows through the forest. She ran a hoof along the thick, scratchy cloth. Hardly suitable for royalty, but warm, which was all that really mattered.

The sound of footsteps approaching the cottage roused her attention. Cantata stood up and turned to the door of the two-roomed cabin. It opened with a labored whine, and a white-coated pony with a pink mane stepped inside. Her back was laden with saddlebags full of hay, and two carefully outstretched wings held a yawning filly between them.

“‘Tis strange,” Cantata said with a pointedly bemused tone, “that sending you two out to gather alfalfa should take all afternoon. By my own reckoning, it shouldn’t have taken half that time, Celestia.”

Cantata stepped forward and took the heavy bags with an amber glow of her horn.

“Your reckoning did not take into consideration how unbearable the heat has become,” Celestia replied. She lowered Luna to the ground. Celestia’s magic joined Cantata’s as they began to put away the alfalfa and Celestia’s saddlebags—the first on a lofty little rack to dry, the other in its spot by the fireplace. “Luna had the splendid idea that we should go for a swim. We went to that nice little spot upstream where the river flows wide and slow.”

Catata turned to look at Luna. The way the she sat with her back just a little too upright betrayed her attempt to seem alert. A smile played at the edges of Catata’s lips as she considered the tired foal.

“A swim in that muddy old brook, Luna?” she asked with a voice thick with teasing. She expertly dropped her tone down to a register reserved for scandalous gossip. “My, my, how absolutely unbecoming! To think a princess would even want to be near that sort of grimy, smelly water, let alone go for a splash?”

Luna’s ears flicked up while suddenly widened her eyes leapt between Celestia and Catata at an astounding rate. Her lips fumbled around unsaid words as she searched for a response. Cantata leaned in close to deliver the final blow.

“You enjoyed splashing a whole lot, didn’t you Luna?” she said in a conspiratory mumble.

Luna leapt up to her hooves.

“Ce-Celesita splashed too, she splashed!” A shamelessly traitorous hoof jumped up to point straight at her big sister. Luna sputtered at Celestia’s attempts to hold back laughter. “She splashed and she cheated and used her magic too! She threw water in my eyes!”

Celestia’s composure broke into a hoof-stomping guffaw. Her wings rose up to shield her face as she laughed, while Luna puffed out her cheeks and directed her angriest pout at her big sister’s feather-muffled chortles.

Cantata sighed in exaggerated disappointment.

“Whatever shall I do? I’ve got the two least princessly girls here under my care,” Catata said. “Mark my words, there will be a time you wished I was not as forgiving! You will wish I were one of those angry old maids with their paddles and their lists of memorized rules.”

Luna dropped back down to her haunches. “But I still need not worry now. It won’t be for years and years until I grow big and begin care about such things.”

“Years and years more of you two in my responsibility?” Cantata’s voice was laden with playful worry. “The thought frightens me so! Surely you will have altogether forgotten that you were princesses, and I will have forgotten all else but how to keep you from trouble. Day, after day, after tiring day. A poor old nag you’ll soon make of me!”

Luna’s laugh was interrupted by a swollen yawn. Cantata tsked her tongue and shook her head.

“All worn out from the splashing, I see.” She carefully picked Luna up in a glow of magic and made her way to the bedroom of the little cottage. “Will you begin preparing dinner, Celestia? I must put this one to bed before she tips over.”

Spread around the smaller room were three little straw-filled cots. Cantata lowered her sleepy burden down into bed and tucked her in.

“Canny, will you sing a song for me?” Luna mumbled, her eyes already closed. “The one about the fireflies.”

“Of course, dear.” Cantata smiled and began to sing, her dulcet voice ringing softly and gently.

Hi-dee-ho, Come away with me,
Come away to the place with the bumblebees.
The old bear dances, laughs and sings,
On the hill, far away, past the moonlit tree.

Will you come, will you come, come away with me?
Catching fireflies ‘neath that tall oak tree.
Oh, hi-dee-ho, will you go? Will you go?
Tread by starry light and a lantern’s glow.

Hi-dee-ho! Watch the fiddler play,
Stream flows, wind blows, and the grass doth sway.
We welcome now, the Spirits Three
And chase fireflies ‘round that tall oak tree.

Will you come, will you come, yonder fair young lass,
To catch fireflies in the long, brown grass?
Oh, hi-dee-ho, will you go, will you go?
Where it never rains and it seldom snows.
Dance by starry light and a lantern’s glow!

Cantata took a moment to make sure Luna was fast asleep. Quietly, she picked herself up and walked out of their bedroom. The fireplace crackled as its warmth rushed out to meet her. From there, Celestia smiled at her and stirred a wooden spoon through a small caldron that sat over the fire.

“That one is my favorite too,” she admitted. “You sing it so beautifully.” Celestia turned away and sighed. “It reminds me of a better time. And of home. I’m glad you sing it for us.”

“Thank you,” said Cantata. “It reminds me of home too. I sang this song to your mother many times.”

The two mares sat together in the warmth of the fire, content in each other’s presence.

/~~~~~ o ~~~~~\

The air was uncomfortably warm and heavy with moisture even now in the hours past midnight, but the moon was very nearly full that night. For that, Fidelus was thankful as he studied the landscape from the air. Most of his long flight had taken him over unfamiliar lands where he had relied on stars and sun for guidance. Early this morning he finally found himself near familiar landmarks, and now he was nearly sure he could find his way blindfolded.

After days of flight, his wings were weary but his spirits rose higher as he drew closer and closer to his destination. Up ahead a stony cliff rose into view, its base nestled comfortably in the crook of slow river. Fidelus banked his wings to follow the curve of the river.

The sharp turn threw him into a gust of oncoming wind that rattled him with an almost animal fury. Every piece of barding he wore flapped perilously on seams that had been restitched more times than he could remember. While the padded armor he wore was originally designed to be light and comfortable in flight, the set he wore was well past its prime. Held together by bulky makeshift buckles and ropes, it had long since become a cumbersome load that dragged in the wind. He suspected that any self-respecting armorer would sooner replace each threadbare piece than attempt repairs.

Buffeted by wind, Fidelus drew in his wings, trading altitude for a safer, narrower profile. He dipped and slowed until he slipped under the turbulent draft and into calmer air. Spreading his wings to halt his steady fall, he noticed the familiar blocky outlines of buildings come into view—a patchwork of dark patterned shapes stood out from the evenness of the meadow around the small city.

FIdelus’s breath stilled, his wingbeats slowed, and his lips turned down into a weary frown. Passing over the empty city always stirred a gloom that was almost physically palpable. Every part of the deathly stillness below rang out to him, demanding to give testimony to the cold fear that had consumed this town. The sight of overgrown gardens and shattered windows spoke of the hurry of the former occupants to leave. Where they were now, and who could say?

A ruined clocktower rose into sight. The ropes holding up its untended bells must have snapped in a storm. The fall of the heavy brass bells knocked over the upper walls on one side, scattering stone bricks and wood across a nearby street.

Fidelus remembered the confused panic that sent the residents of so many cities fleeing to the capital and toward any promises of safety. They would find no shelter from the terror that swept across the whole of the vast nation in the span of months. He remembered the last orders they received from high command: vague and jumbled instructions hurriedly written by scribes of inexperienced generals who had been hastily promoted in the wake of unthinkable losses.

Was there something that could have been done? The emptiness of the streets below gave its silent answer, a monument to the death of a kingdom.

Hurriedly, Fidelus left the city behind. As he passed its outer limits, a familiar mountain range peaked out of the horizon. Drawing ever closer, he watched as the looming silhouettes gradually rose and climbed into the sky, blotting out the moon as he flew into their shadow.

He pumped his wings harder and climbed—higher and higher until he soared above the highest peaks and looked into the valley on the other side. A gentle meadow rolled down from the mountains and hills until it gave way to the trees of a forest.

Keen eyes searched for the curves of a river and traced its path until it met forest and meadow. There he looked, straining until he could make out a twinkle of light, faint from the distance as a single star in the sky above. Fidelus could barely make out the thin trail of smoke that stemmed from the point of light and dissolved away as it rose higher.

Wings spread wide and still, the stallion glided swiftly down into the valley, towards the single point of light. The wind roared in his ears as he picked up speed in his descent. The meadow sprang up to meet him, and he swooped across its length in just a few moments. Dashing just feet from the ground, he pointed himself straight at his approaching goal. Fidelus turned his wings down and slowed as the shine of firelight grew nearer. Just as he began to make out the shape of the cabin, he halted, flapped his wings once to right himself, and set his feet onto the ground.

He landed right outside the little vegetable garden that surrounded the little shack. No longer numbed by constant use, his wings ached as he held them out in a relaxed, neutral stance.

Walking carefully through rows of wild beets, daisies, and tubers, he approached the thatch-roofed home. Firelight danced out of windows and cracks in the wall, painting orange streaks across the garden for yards around. Silently, Fidelus stepped up to the door and pushed it open with a hoof.

The pony inside, a mare with a soft beige coat and a golden mane, didn’t notice him yet. The length of her wings were a darker brown, with the tips of her feathers ending in chestnut. Her cutie mark showed a soft yellow songbird in flight. She sat on the floor near the fireplace, horn lit and a book and pen aglow in an amber aura.

“Cantata,” he said.

The glow around her horn winked out and the book fell to the floor in a tumble. Her head whipped around towards him, her eyes widened, and her lips split into a wide, toothy grin.

“Fidelus!” She scrambled up to her hooves so quickly that she nearly tripped and fell. Her wings pumped to keep her upright as she ran across the short distance between them. Tackling him in a full-bodied hug, they both fell backwards into the garden outside.

“Sun and moon, filly, you’ve broken my back for certain,” he groaned out.

Cantata laughed, ignoring his tired complaints as she nuzzled his chest. “You’re here! Ha-ha, you’ve come!”

Fidelus laid still as he caught his breath and waited for Cantata’s excitement to calm down. Her laugh was melodious and infectious, and soon he coughed out a chuckle despite the weight of a full-grown mare on his chest. She giggled as she brought her neck down for yet another nuzzle against his grey coat.

“It’s been so long,” she said, “since you’ve been here last. I almost thought you weren’t coming back at all.”

“Celestia? Luna?” he managed to wheeze out.

“They’re fine, they’re fine! They’ve both grown so much I've had to begin weaving them new cloaks for the winter and — Oh!” She finally rolled off of him. “Come in, come in! They’re both in bed right now, but they’ll be so excited to see you in the morning!”

Fidelus breathed a relieved sigh as Cantata’s weight left his chest. He was not as strong of a stallion as he used to be. He got up unto his own hooves before rubbing his forehead—his horn had taken a particularly nasty bump on the way down. Turning to the doorway, he followed Cantata as she practically skipped in.

“There’s beet stew from supper that I’ll get back atop the fire in a moment!” She danced to the caldron and danced back over to him after putting it back into the fireplace. Beckoning him to do the same, she sat snugly on the floor near the fireplace.

“So tell me!” she pleaded, “Tell me all about what you’ve found. Are the dragon scholars as understanding as we hoped? Or have you found Their Majesties? Luna and Celestia miss them more and more each day.”

Fidelus sighed heavily. Cantata noticed his somber bearing, and her own face began to fall.
“Fidelus?” she asked, suddenly unsure. “Will you tell me what you’ve found? Surely you’ve come back bearing good news...”

He cleared his throat before beginning.

“I flew north last spring at first thaw. The northern lands and the capital are still encased in unnatural ice. And I’ve found no sign of the King nor the Queen in any of the nation’s lands that still permit passage.” Fidelus pawed the ground with a hoof. “I’ve searched long, Cantata. I’m afraid they’ve perished.”

Cantata turned away to hide a tear. Her voice was still unwavering, though. “We knew that could be the case after the sun and moon fell out of alignment for those weeks.”

There was silence for several moments as Cantata thought.

“But the heavenly bodies both rise and set unerringly now. Have the dragons learned the art?” Cantata’s voice was full of hope.

“Nay,” Fidelus said. “The dragon scholars are no more. I’ve walked the ruined halls of their great library and read messages left by the last of their order. The only dragons I found were scattered hatchlings, lost and confused.”

His voice wavered as he delivered his next words. “It will be generations before their kind can produce wizards and scholars again. Thousands of years before they rebuild their libraries.”

Cantata’s face falls and she slumps down, looking at the ground. “Then all is lost, is it not? There can be no one left to teach the princesses.”

“No,” Fidelus said, “I have indeed come bearing good news.”

Cantata’s eyes jumped up and searched FIdelus’s face for any sign of jest. Finding none, she carefully asked, “What have you found, Fidelus?”

“The sun still sets and rises along with the moon, so I searched far and wide and across oceans for those responsible.” Fidelus smiled as he continued, “I found a unicorn. His name is Star Swirl, and he and his kind have been raising and setting the heavenly bodies at great cost to themselves for the past two years.”

Cantata’s eyes widened and her breaths nearly ceased. “You jest. You surely must jest. A unicorn?”

“Yes,” he said. “As young as he might be, he is the cleverest living thing I have ever set my eyes on. He unraveled the workings of the heavens in those few weeks after the fall. Now he has sent his student to unite the three tribes of ponies against the windigos.”

Cantata furrowed her brow and lost herself in thought. She spoke, “The three tribes—the Three Spirits—uniting themselves to One.” She smiled. “I am not a mare easily convinced by prophecies and foretellings, but this sounds to me like the herald of the New Age, just as the Wise Ones described.”

“To me, as well,” Fidelus replied. “Star Swirl holds the keys to the future, of that I am sure. I saw some of the incomplete spells he has written. They are…" For a moment he paused as he searched for words. "Marvelous. They propose an entirely new kind of Harmony. One that would leave old relics like us far, far behind.”

Cantata wistfully looked at nothing in particular. “Old relics like us…”

Suddenly she reached over and planted a kiss on the end of his snout. Fidelus jerked at the unexpected contact and blushed. Cantata laughed and turned away, her face equally flushed.
There were a few moments of the two of them looking around at everything in the room but each other. After several minutes, Cantata cleared her throat. Fidelus breathed relief at the end of that particular silence.

“So this Star Swirl,” Cantata said, “Will he be able to teach what he has learned?”

“Of that, I have no doubt. And I am equally sure that the princesses will earn their Marks under his tutelage.” He ruffled his wings. “Call it an old soldier’s intuition, but I am sure that this is what was meant to be.”

“As am I, the more I hear.” Cantata smiled and gazed into the fire.