Of Dragons and Horses, Songs and Solace

Chapters

The Six Hour War, part I
The Six Hour War, part II
Cruelty
To Give a Life
The End of the Beginning

The Six Hour War, part I

“Tomorrow will be a good day.”

The two dragons stood together on the hilltop, looking pointedly out towards the plain to the north as the sun began to set, and the sky began to darken.

“A good day?”

“Forgive me, my Lord. It will be a glorious day.”

Ragnarok narrowed his eyes, invisibly clenched his teeth into a grimace, and had to resist the urge to shake his head, even subtly. Once again, he had been misinterpreted. And once again, he found himself unable to correct the error.

If nothing else, though, he could correct his counterpart. “If you call me ‘My Lord’ once more, Valkyr, I will see to it that you are unable to speak at all for some considerable time.”

Beside him, Valkyr smiled a wry smile, but said nothing.

The pair cast stark outlines in the fading light. The deep colours of the sunset caused Valkyr’s silver scales to glow almost golden, while Ragnarok’s own, bronze hide was instead cast into a deep, blood red gleam. That, at least, was fitting.

Had it really come to this?

Valhalla, the former king of the dragons had ruled long and well, yet had at last succumbed to age as all things must. But in the years before his demise he had taken the unprecedented step of recommending loudly – and belligerently – that Ragnarok should be named as his successor. Much to Ragnarok’s own surprise.

Not that Valhalla’s opinion wouldn’t have carried weight, but once one was dead there was very little one could do to influence the outcome of such decisions. So Ragnarok had stood forward, as his former mentor had wanted. He had excelled at the Trials, but even so he was too young and too naive to be a real ruler, and stood no chance at Election... or so he had believed. Until Valhalla’s son Valkyr, who had always been like an older brother to him, had thrown his full weight behind Ragnarok.

In the moons that followed, support for him had built steadily, and within only five years, much to his surprise and – if he were brutally honest, horror – he had been named King. But with the landslide of support, and his eventual success, had come something else. Something that had taken him by surprise, and for which he was quite unprepared.

Expectation.

Valhalla had ruled well and justly for six-hundred and eighty-six years. And yet in all that time, his list of ‘accomplishments’ could likely be counted on one claw. Valhalla had never cared much for such measures of success; all that mattered to him was that the dragons lived well, and so a feeling of stagnation pervaded the kingdom. But now that there was a new king on the throne – one whom had been swept there on a wave of support – there was an ‘expectation’ that Ragnarok’s new leadership would usher in a new era of success, new triumph and new prosperity... without any hint as to what form that should take.

Expectation – it was nebulous, intangible, insidious... but it was real and it was there, in the eyes of all dragons who now called him King. And it was dangerous: his subjects wanted more. More of what, they didn’t know, but they wanted it regardless. And they expected the King to deliver it... even if he did not know how.

But he could not be seen to be indecisive or to flounder in his duty, for these were not the hallmarks of a strong leader. So within months he had announced that more meant expansion. More land to tame, more riches to claim, more treasures to horde. He would deliver new fortune to his people and that would satisfy their greed. And the closest and easiest route to expansion lay northward: to the green, pleasant lands of the country of Equestria. Its snow-capped mountains were rich with seams of gemstones, and its crystal-clear lakes, rolling fields and lush forests were treasures themselves that any dragon would feel lucky to call their territory. And judging from the reactions of his subjects, they approved of this idea immensely.

The fact that it was already occupied by an indigenous, civilised population of small, largely unobtrusive equines, seemed to be of no concern at all to his people. And, truth be known, it had been of no concern to him either when the idea was new and details scarce. But as the distance between the plan itself and the practicalities of its execution diminished, he found himself growing increasingly uneasy. The thought of what he would have to actually do to Equestria – and its populace – in order to hand it to his subjects filled him with disquiet, and in this he seemed alone.

As hard as he had looked, he had found no dragon willing to offer any objection to their new King’s idea. No, they had all been blindly, infuriatingly loyal. Especially Valkyr, who had inspired so much support for it. It wasn’t that his people were filled with bloodlust: they were simply greedy, and they seemed to have a prehistoric notion of the ‘glory’ and exotic nature of battle. Even if the casualties would all be on the other side, that was no reason to treat it lightly. But once the ball had started rolling; once the support had begun pouring in, Ragnarok had been quite unable to make it stop. Thus, he had arrived at this point, propelled headlong by expectation and duty and oh-so-much support, onto a high hilltop, an army at his back, overlooking the country that he would ravage so that he could deliver it to his people, satisfy their greed, and discharge his blasted duty.

He stood with Valkyr upon the northernmost summit of a group of five hills which roughly formed a circle, ringing a wide, shallow valley perhaps two miles in diameter. Within the depression a low ridge ran from north to south, two-thirds east of centre, creating a mini-valley in the east of the pseudo-crater. To the southwest of the ridge lay a small wood, but on the flat open spaces of grassland surrounding it there were dozens upon dozens of dragons going about their evening preparations, concealed from any spying northward eyes by the slopes of the ring of hills.

Ragnarok turned his head briefly to regard the valley behind him before looking back to the north. “Where do we stand?” he asked.

“Embla and her brothers arrived about an hour ago. That is the last of those we were expecting, and even now the troops are bedding down for the evening. There are sentries atop each of the four other hills, and I will take first watch here tonight. Morale is high. Everything is ready.”

“Good,” he lied. “How strong are we?”

“Seventy-one, my Lo– forgive me. Ragnarok. We could raze their entire country with ease, at your order.”

Ragnarok’s teeth clenched a little tighter and he couldn’t keep a scowl from his face. The reality of what he was about to do beset him once more. “The goal is acquisition, Valkyr, not destruction. Remember that. I will not have my new country burned to cinders before I have a chance to enjoy it.”

“Of course, Sire.”

Ragnarok winced. From the corner of his eye he caught Valkyr’s wry grin again. He sighed. “The title. It still feels odd. Especially from your lips.”

“You will have to get used to it. I am going to have to refer to you somehow in front of the troops. I would prefer it if I did not have to worry about potential strangulation while I did so.”

Ragnarok let out an annoyed growl. “Fine.”

Valkyr paused a moment. Then, he changed the subject. “Hel is bearing an egg.” His smile increased.

And Ragnarok, for the first time in a long while, found a smile too. “Congratulations. I am sure it will hatch quickly. Have you decided on a name?”

“Not yet,” said Valkyr. “Though, I think I would like my father’s name to carry on in some form.” He paused uncertainly. “It would mean a great deal if you would consider being a mentor to him – or her – once it has hatched.”

Ragnarok blinked and his scowl returned. “Let it hatch first. Then we will see.” Then his brow relaxed into a softer, resigned expression. “Though, I suppose it will be difficult to say no. To you of all dragons.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

There it was again. The Title. Its use seemed to have some unclear but tangible effect and suddenly Ragnarok was King once more, and everything was business.

He turned to Valkyr. “I am retiring for the evening. We will attack at dawn. You will rouse the troops at sunrise and brief them. Then we will head for the capital city en-masse,” said Ragnarok. “Their leader will be given one hour and one chance at surrender. After that, we will destroy any resistance they offer.” Even as the words tumbled from his mouth he could scarcely believe it. He was actually doing it. Ordering the destruction and conquest of an entire country. An entire people! For no reason other than greed, duty and expectation. Ludicrous! He shouldn’t have this power! Why was no-one stopping him?!

Valkyr blinked in surprise. “You do not intend a surprise attack? You plan to offer them surrender?”

Ragnarok growled angrily. “Acquisition, not destruction, Valkyr! Pay attention, or I will find another who can! Their city doubtless contains treasure. If I can avoid destroying it, then so I will!”

“Yes, of course,” said Valkyr. “And the natives?”

Ragnarok composed his features into a careful nonchalance. “Are of no concern. Once their organised resistance has been crushed, the remainder of the population are no threat. They are little more than scenery. The country, its land and its riches will be ours; the populace can be largely ignored.”

There was a brief pause and for a single, horrific moment, he thought Valkyr was going to object and put him in quite the awkward position. He had an excuse for not wanting to destroy the city. He had no excuse for not wanting to murder hundreds of ponies, except for not wanting to. Was that so abnormal? How was it that he seemed to be the only dragon with these reservations? And how was it, that it seemed like the only dragon with the inclination to prevent a massacre, was going to all but ensure one took place?

Why did life have to be so ironic?

At length though, Valkyr nodded. “As you say, Ragnarok.”

Ragnarok tore his stare from the north and turned it once more into the valley, eyeing a nice spot to the east of the low ridge that he had already claimed for the night. The slope of the ridge would separate him from the rest of his troops and afford him the measure of privacy befitting his position. With a final nod at Valkyr, Ragnarok spread his wings and glided smoothly from the hilltop. A few moments later he alighted at the eastern base of the ridge, and lay down.

He shifted uncomfortably for long moments, trying to quell a growing, sickening knot in the pit of his belly. He had had so many options, once! And now...

He could call the whole thing off! Except he couldn’t. He had come too far. Promised too much. He was here now, a brand new king with an army of seventy-one dragons, all eager for new riches and who could not simply be recalled with a snap of his fingers and no explanation.

And what explanation could he offer? Scruples? Who was he to say that his unique moral misgivings took priority over the hopes and desires of every single one of his citizens?

He tried to console himself. Perhaps it would not be so bad. Perhaps the Equestrians would see sense and surrender. Perhaps there would be no need to destroy their city or their lives.

He grimaced. Everything he knew of their leader – rumours mostly, to be sure – suggested that she was protective, strong and self-assured. There was going to be a battle. There would be fire, and screams, and blood before the end.

All in his name.

Ragnarok.

Tomorrow was going to be very far from a good day.

He lay on his back and looked to the heavens, a single small grey cloud overhead marring his view of the fading sky. At least it would be over quickly. With such strength of numbers as he had, any battle would last no longer than a day and likely much less. He closed his eyes, and as he did so, a chilling thought struck. A final conscious flicker before the stress of the day claimed him into sleep:

Equestria would not be enough. Not for long. Greed and success would cause his people to expect more. More conquests. More lands. More treasures. And... and...

No-one was going to be able to stop him...

Had he, or Valkyr, or any of the other sentries for that matter, been paying just a little more attention, they might have noticed that that single grey cloud, alone in the otherwise perfectly clear sky, was drifting slowly northwards, rather against the wind.

–––

Sleep left suddenly and Celestia started awake. She took a moment to breathe, and sat up slowly, her silken sheets falling easily aside. The dizziness and the cobwebs that came from such an abrupt return to consciousness took a few seconds to pass, and once they had she was able to think clearly and she hung her head.

Another night and she had made no progress at all. The two good ideas she had in the past month had finally petered out to nothing. Two hundred years now of trying to reach her sister, and still she had nothing to show for it. But even as frustration threatened to conquer her, she raised her head. She wouldn’t break her promise. She was not going to give up on her. Ever.

She gave a rueful, bitter smile and shook her head. Even if it took forever. Time was one thing she wasn’t short of.

Presently her attention alighted on the double doors to her chamber, the raised voices from just outside, and the apparent reason for her sudden awakening.

“–nearly midnight!”

“I don’t care! Wake her immediately!”

Celestia frowned. The first voice was one of her night-guards. The second she was sure she recognised as her pegasus Guard-Captain. He sounded nervous.

Slipping from her bed, Celestia used her magic to clothe herself in a plush white dressing gown with thick purple trim. Then she stood before the doors and, with her magic, opened them. Beyond, in the hallway, the shocked face of Captain Stormrunner looked to her from the sentry at her door. Then, without her extending him an invitation, and offering no greeting himself, he strode quickly into her chambers.

Celestia was about to say something, but her gaze was drawn back to the door as a second visitor entered with great hesitation. A young pegasus mare with a powder-blue coat and a free-flowing mane of royal-blue streaked with silver. A quartet of cute, dark freckles decorated each of her cheeks, and a pair of smart, round spectacles framed her lively grey eyes while her cutie-mark appeared to be three fluffy clouds. She stepped nervously into the room, head low, her eyes wide and darting, her footing uncertain, and when she saw Celestia stood there in front of her she let out a tiny Eeep, and threw herself into a bow so low, Celestia thought she might actually try and force herself through the floor.

She was terrified.

“Tell the Princess exactly what you told me,” said Stormrunner.

The frightened mare looked up at Celestia, and Celestia put on her most reassuring smile. That seemed to have a slightly calming effect and the pony before her took a long breath. When she spoke the words came quickly, frantically, but she was just about able to stop herself tripping over them.

“Your majesty. I–I’m Sky. Just Sky. No other names. I’m a trader, I guess. I mean, I sell things to the griffons mostly, and we–”

“Sky,” interjected Stormrunner.

“It’s alright, Captain,” said Celestia soothingly. Sky was still the picture of fear.

“Forgive me, Princess, but it is not,” said Stormrunner. Then he looked back at the mare beside him. “Sky...”

Sky looked up at Celestia. She took another breath and visibly steeled herself. “I have a cloud I use to move all my stuff around when I go trading. This evening, I was coming back home over this hill range I know, and... I saw Dragons there. I was really scared, so I hid inside my cloud so they wouldn’t see me. But... I’ve never seen real dragons before and, since they couldn’t see me, I got a little bit closer and... I heard them. Talking, I mean. I think it was their leader. He... he was saying they were going to attack Canterlot. Tomorrow.”

Celestia’s eyes widened. Her head snapped up to Stormrunner, who only nodded solemnly. She quickly returned her attention to Sky and spoke softly. “Are you sure, Sky? Are you certain?”

“Yes.” The expression on the poor pony’s face made it clear that she wished she wasn’t.

“How many dragons, Sky?”

Sky dipped her head and her eyes darted for a moment, thinking. Then a defeated expression crossed her face and she looked back up nervously.

“Lots.”

Her head hung once more and she averted her gaze, apparently ashamed that she had been unable to give a better answer. “I came here straight away and told one of the guards. Then the guard took me to Mister– I mean Captain Stormrunner and I told him. And he brought me here to tell you.”

Celestia raised her head. She made her expression one of thoughtfulness, and her pose one of calm composure, but... inside she was reeling. Dragons! Why? They had never had any quarrel before now. They largely kept within their borders, and as a race they had never shown any inclination towards attack or war. There had been whispers that a new King had ascended recently, but Celestia hadn’t devoted any efforts to learning more. After all, nothing else had changed, and she had so many issues to juggle at home already. But now it seemed that complacency, that inaction, was turning out to be the most horrendous mistake.

She had failed to perceive a threat until it was too late. Until it was here on her doorstep. She had put all of Equestria at risk. There was no excuse. She had been ignorant. Negligent. She had failed in her first duty as a ruler.

She lit her horn and a moment later her dressing gown was tossed aside. She looked at Stormrunner and frowned. “Captain...”

Stormrunner snapped a salute and began without hesitation. “Every guard on duty is already fortifying the city, your highness, and we are about to begin evacuating the civilians to the caves within the mountain. When the dragons arrive, we will be ready for them. We will send them packing.”

Celestia nodded automatically. Canterlot was defensible and the Guard was exceptionally trained. With the vast majority of the military garrisoned within the city, once it was properly prepared it would be extremely difficult to breach. They could weather the attack. It was a sensible plan. It was a workable plan. It was a safe plan.

And then she thought of the rest of Equestria. Imagined the small scattered settlements of ponies beyond the capital that were still finding their feet, lying all but unprotected as dragons ravaged them, while she remained safe behind her walls and wards... and suddenly, it was the wrong plan.

She met Stormrunner’s gaze, and while outwardly her composure never faltered, the breath she drew was a nervous one. She had fought and defeated powerful enemies before, but in terms of fighting a large-scale, conventional military campaign... it hadn’t been done. She had ruled Equestria peacefully for a very long time – a fact of which she was justifiably proud – and in matters of actual warfare and tactics she was simply inexperienced. She trusted her Guard-Captains with strategy for exactly this reason, and now she was about to countermand the judgement of one of her best.

But it was a simple equation: she would not allow a single citizen of Equestria to be put at risk because of her mistake. Because of her complacency. And the equation had only one solution.

“How many of the Guard can be mustered in one hour?”

“Princess?”

“Everyone on duty, everyone you have to pull out of bed, everyone stationed elsewhere that could be here within the hour. How many?”

“A–about one-hundred and fifty, your majesty.”

Celestia blinked. So few...

Then her gaze fell upon Sky, the terrified but brave young mare who had risked everything to bring her this warning, and her resolve hardened. Not a single pony would be put at risk.

“Muster them, Stormrunner. And send for the Master-at-Arms. I am going to need my armour.” She frowned. “I won’t wait behind the walls of my city while a hostile army roams Equestria with impunity. We are going after them, before they can do any damage.”

Stormrunner was clearly surprised, but he was over it quickly. He snapped another salute and, with a nod towards Sky to follow him, he trotted for the still-open doors of the chamber.

“Sky,” said Celestia as the mare reached the threshold, causing her to look around. “Thank you.”

Sky simply smiled. A nervous smile to be sure, but a smile nonetheless. Then she left and the chamber door closed behind her.

Alone once more, Celestia let out a long breath and her composure fell away as though a broken china shell. Doubt assaulted her immediately and would not release its grip. What if this was the wrong decision? What if, by being drawn out, she was simply leaving Canterlot defenceless? What if, by concentrating her forces she was playing into the dragons’ hands?

She turned to the far side of the room, to her large window and balcony and of course, there was the moon. High in the sky. Three-quarters full and waning, the round shadows on its surface forming the fragmented shape of a horse’s head. She looked up at it with sad eyes, took a deep, long breath, and let it slowly out.

“Are you there, Luna?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

There was no response to her question, of course. No voice made reply. Yet in her head, Celestia heard her sister, her cadence soft and lilting from a time long past, when they were both happy together. Even after all this time, the memory of her sister had never dulled, and it was easy to combine Luna’s character and the sound of her voice into the replies she would surely make, were she here.

“I... don’t know what to do,” admitted Celestia ruefully, her gaze locked on the moon.

In her head, Luna’s sweet voice offered her calm words of encouragement.

“What if I am wrong? What if I do this, fail, and leave Equestria open to ruin? I could lose everyone. Is it not best to protect those I can? To take the safer course?”

Luna pointed out that the ‘safer course’ would only mean that not everypony was safe.

Celestia sighed. “What would you do?” she asked in a whisper. “What would we do, if you were still here?”

Luna told her. She agreed with her. The safer course was not an option as far as she was concerned. There was much risk, but so much more to be gained from success. And she would succeed. Luna was confident.

Celestia smiled a brief, fleeting smile. “I wish you were here. I wish I didn’t have to do this alone...” she said.

In her head, Luna told her that she was with her. Always. That as long as she remembered her, she would never be–

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!

–Alone...

Celestia’s warm reverie vanished in a flash. She looked around at her empty, darkened chambers, silent and still, completely devoid of any other presence. Just as they had been for oh-so-long now.

She took a final, neutral look at the moon and at last turned towards the doors, even as the knocking came again, more insistently this time.

“Your Highness? It’s the Master-at-Arms. You sent for me? I have your armour here. Are you alright?”

“I am fine. Come in, Master.” She would make sure that every pony was safe.

–––

She hated it. It wasn’t really the armor itself, for it was beautiful. Gold in colour, though decidedly not in construction for it was far too light, and far too tough. It had been a gift, presented to her by the EUP what seemed like an age ago now, and ever since then it had been languishing, happily unused behind a locked glass cabinet in the castle armoury.

No, it was not the armour, it was the idea that she hated. She hated the fact that she had to wear it. That she was being forced into it by a vicious threat from a distant land. She had taken great pride in the fact that she had never had to don it before now. She should be allowed to watch over her ponies in peace, and what right did anyone else have to say otherwise?

She hated it. But as the Master-at-Arms finished buckling her chest-plate into place – a gleaming golden cuirass adorned with a lavish relief of the sun – she had to admit that it was a thing of expert craftsponyship. Strong, but light and agile and allowing her a full range of movement, the chest-armor was complimented by matching golden greaves upon each leg, and a forehead and muzzle guard that took the place of her crown, with a central circular hole through which her horn protruded.

The Master-at-Arms finished up the final strap and his horn extinguished. Celestia thanked him and then, finally, left her chambers, heading for the castle courtyard where as many of the Guard as could be scrounged would be gathering.

She stepped from the large, main castle entrance and looked out over the courtyard from the top of the dozen wide steps. And was impressed with what she saw. Stormrunner’s estimate, it seemed, had proved conservative, for there were at least two-hundred ponies crowding the plaza, all in full armor, chattering nervously among themselves. But it was not just the ponies. Beyond the throng, on a wide green on the far side of the crowd from her, dozens of chariots stood harness-ready. Many were empty, but others were loaded with bows, quivers, spears, swords and all manner of weaponry. All made ready in less than an hour. The amount that had been accomplished so quickly by her loyal subjects filled her with a sense of pride. And it was sobering to think that she now had to ensure that loyalty had not been tragically misplaced.

She was about to raise her head and address all who stood before her, when her attention caught on a pony, front row centre, having difficulty adjusting a helmet that was far too big for her. “Sky?”

Sky looked up with nervous but eager eyes. She smiled and snapped a quick, imperfect salute, causing the loose helmet on her head to skew comically and almost cover her right eye, jostling her spectacles.

“Sky, what are you doing here?”

“I’m helping fight off the dragons. Uh, your majesty.” She readjusted her helmet and resumed wrestling with the chin-strap with her hooves.

“Sky... you’re not a soldier. You’re not a fighter. You should stay here in the city, where it is safe.”

“I know the land and I know exactly where I saw them. I’ll take you straight to them,” she said, still fidgeting with the helmet. Then she looked up and met Celestia’s gaze. “We need to get there real soon, don’t we?”

“Sky, we have maps. You can show us where you saw them on those. You don’t have to come.”

But Sky seemed to be ignoring her now, her tongue sticking out of her mouth and her full concentration focused on fumbling with the blasted chin-strap that she was never going to get right.

“Highness!” Stormrunner approached her through the throng with another, bearded pegasus at his side. “We have amassed two-hundred-and-four troops, including...” he indicated the older, but wiry and athletic-looking pony beside him with a little smile. On cue, he dipped his head and took a deep bow.

“Your majesty.”

Celestia smiled a real, warm smile, and nodded deeply in familiar greeting. “Admiral Fairweather. The Wonderbolts are not, strictly speaking, a military outfit anymore.”

“Nevertheless,” replied the Admiral with a smile, “We are yours to command.” He straightened from his bow and met her gaze. “We broke the Cloudsdale-to-Canterlot record to get here in time, your majesty. We wouldn’t miss this.”

“Princess, if you will come with me, the royal chariot has been readied,” said Stormrunner. He turned and began to make way through the noisy crowd. Celestia started to follow, but turned just before the crowd closed behind her. Sky had finally given up on the helmet it seemed, allowing it to rest loosely on her head, and was instead looking about herself. To every side, small groups of Guards, most almost a head taller than her, were talking: closed ranks trading a little nervous banter among themselves, and leaving Sky to cut a separate, lonesome figure with the air of someone just a little too nervous to ask what was supposed to happen next. And yet also with the air of someone who wasn’t going anywhere.

Celestia turned back towards her. “Sky. I will need you to ride with me, and show me exactly where you saw the dragons.”

Sky looked back and beamed. She trotted to Celestia’s side, and they headed for her chariot.

Twenty minutes later, and with every chariot filled with either guards or weapons and harnessed to a pair of pegasi, the entirety of the assembled mass took skywards, ascending into the night.

Eighty-three pegasi, fourty-four earth-guards, sixty-nine unicorns, eight Wonderbolts, thirty-nine chariots... two hundred and four brave ponies, striking southwards...

...behind one Princess.

–––

Her chariot was pulled almost silently through the still, peaceful night sky, the stark light of the ever-present moon seeming to cast constant judgment upon her decision to leave the city.

Celestia was silent, her mind working, her stare focused directly ahead, and doubt was ever her companion. Thoughts of the many horrible ways she could fail were a permanent blight on her consciousness.

Presently though, she realised she had been neglecting her other companion. Throughout the flight, Sky had sat neatly and quietly at her left side on the chariot, her own gaze facing deliberately forward. And as Celestia looked down to check she was alright she was surprised to discover that, without any conscious thought or impulse, her own wing had extended loosely out and around the pegasus. As though it were a shield around her, and a shelter above.

Sky didn’t even seem to have noticed, so intense was her stare into the dark landscape ahead as forests and rivers glided by beneath. But she looked less nervous now than even she had when Celestia had first seen her in her chambers, in spite of the fact that the danger was only drawing closer.

Celestia gave her a quick, loose hug with her wing, just to break her trance. “Are you alright?” she asked.

Sky looked up at her for a moment. Then she looked back ahead. “No.”

Celestia nodded. An honest answer, to be sure. “How much further?”

“Not much,” said Sky without inflection. “About ten minutes, probably.”

Celestia nodded. She turned her gaze to the right, where Fairweather was flying some meters distant, keeping pace with her chariot. She motioned him to fly closer, so that she could speak without shouting too loudly. “We are going to need water. A large lake or a wide, slow river would be ideal. See what you can find.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Fairweather. But before he could peel away, Sky piped up.

“I know where there’s a big lake,” she said, pointing a hoof towards the ten-o’clock position. “A league or so that way. It’s not far from where I saw them.”

Celestia nodded, then turned back towards Fairweather. “Fly ahead and ensure it is safe.”

“Of course.” Fairweather turned his head away and barked, “Windshear! Avalanche! With me!” Then he propelled himself ahead of the chariot at speed, banking left away into the night, and an instant later two pegasus mares joined him in formation.

They returned within minutes to report that the lake was there and it would suit their purposes well. And so, Celestia, and her tiny army of ponies and chariots soon made landing on the southern shoreline. The moonlight reflected upon the inky black water, and the wide dirt shore gave way to a flat grassland plain in every direction. Miles to the south, a small series of three low hills, cloaked in blackness, broke the horizon. Sky pointed them out. “There. That’s where they are.” She brought her hoof down, and Celestia saw her stifle a shiver.

Celestia regarded the distant hills and nodded solemnly.

“Fairweather,” she said, bringing him to the fore once again. “I need that ridgeline scouted. Send your fastest and ensure they are not seen.”

“I’ll do it...” Sky piped up, an expression of sheer terror on her face.

“No, Sky,” said Celestia firmly. Then looked back up. “Admiral...”

Fairweather saluted, then turned away. “Avalanche! I need you again!”

Stormrunner was already marshalling the ponies to order down by the lake, and most of the contingent took the opportunity to take a drink at the lakeside. But not Sky. She seemed determined to stick to Celestia like glue, and Celestia took her to a quiet spot a little way up the shore.

“Sky,” she said softly. “You’ve nothing to prove to anyone. You’ve already been brave enough. You don’t need to do any more.”

Sky looked to the ground and nodded. Then she looked back up. “It just... it feels like it’s my fault, you know? Like... if I hadn’t seen those dragons then all this wouldn’t be happening. I feel like I’m responsible, so... I’m the one who has to do everything to stop it.” Then she shook her head and looked back down.

“Sky, you know that’s not true. None of this is your fault. If it weren’t for you, Equestria would have suffered a devastating attack tomorrow, and we would have been totally unprepared. I’m so proud of you. And so grateful that you came straight to warn me. I can understand that you want to do everything you can, but you’ve done more than enough, and you can’t do it all yourself.”

“I know. Jus’ that’s how it feels is all.” Sky looked back up at her. “Y–you’re still gonna let me help, right?”

Celestia smiled. A real, happy smile. Sky may be terrified, but she just had so much spirit! Then the smile fell away. There was still business at hoof. “Sky... the leader of the dragons. You think you saw him? Describe him to me.”

“Uh... well. He’s big. Like, even-for-a-dragon big. Dark orange – well, more bronze-y scales, I guess. Square jaw. He’s got two horns on his head, only, one of them’s broken. He looks kinda like he’s angry pretty much all the time.”

Celestia nodded. Then, on impulse... “Why, Sky? When you saw a group of dragons... that must have been terrifying. Why did you get closer?”

“Curious I guess,” she replied. “I’ve seen lots of stuff travelling, but never a real dragon before. Wondered what they were like, is all. Wondered if they were friendly. Heh,” she chuckled nervously. “Turns out? They’re not.”

Celestia’s happy smile returned. Her ponies. So bright. So optimistic. So curious. And so eager to see the best in everyone, no matter who they were. And the thought that anyone would want to hurt them for that... that made her angry.

“Your majesty!” A unicorn guard trotted up. “The scout has returned.”

“Find Captain Stormrunner and tell him to join us,” said Celestia, and the guard smartly turned and cantered for the lake shore.

A minute later, Stormrunner joined Celestia, Sky, Fairweather and Avalanche in a circular huddle. Avalanche, a dark-grey coated pegasus with a dull, dark red mane and blue eyes, began drawing in the soft dirt of the lake shore with her hoof:

“Okay. The three peaks you can see are actually part of a wide ring of five hills,” she started, scratching out a rough circle. “One lookout on each hill, and the rest of the dragons holed up here, mostly west of the centre of the valley.” She stabbed her hoof off-centre in the middle of the circle she’d made. “Small ridge here...” she continued, drawing a short vertical line in the right half of the circle, “And one more dragon right here. Some kind of General, at a guess. Anyway, aside from the sentries, they all look asleep.”

“How many?” asked Stormrunner.

“Sixty-seven on first count, seventy-four on the second,” she said. Fairweather had a cheeky smile as he raised a curious eyebrow at her, and she stared defiantly back. “It’s dark, Boss!” She turned to the Princess. “No more than seventy-five, ma’am.”

Celestia nodded. That was even more than she’d expected, but the fact that they were all clustered so close, and within a natural depression, worked to their advantage.

She took a couple of steps closer to the hill-range to the south, beyond which as many as seventy-five vicious dragons were intent on destroying her home and bringing harm to her kind, loyal ponies. Doubt clawed at her yet again. If she made one wrong decision now... she would lose everything. “Stormrunner?” She looked back over her shoulder at him. “We’re going to need a tempest...”

–––

Spaced an even distance of around ten feet apart, sixteen unicorn guards stood along a section of the southern shore of the lake, their horns illuminated with magical auras.

They worked, directing their magic into the lake, causing the water to heat. It was tough, given the sheer amount of water, but while using more unicorns would make the task easier, it might create too much light and risk detection from afar.

They took turns, new unicorns swapping out with their colleagues as they became too tired to continue, and gradually the water in the lake finally began to give off steam.

Steam which was collected by two large groups of pegasus ponies flying in a pair of tiered circles above the lake, a combination of pegasi guards and Wonderbolts, led by Avalanche and supervised by Fairweather. They expertly condensed and compacted the steam as it rose, manipulating it to serve their purposes by forming it into thick banks of fog, and large dark, grey clouds.

Sky was up there too, part of Avalanche’s group working on making the large, thick fog banks. Celestia had simply mentioned that she could help with the preparations, and she had jumped right in. It might have been a while since flight school but Basic Weather Mechanics was a skill no pegasus forgot.

It wouldn’t take long for all to be ready, but until then Celestia took herself for a quiet walk along the shore with Stormrunner.

“Captain, I would have you speak freely,” said Celestia.

“Of course, your highness.” There was a short but certain pause. “What would you have me say?”

Celestia let out a disappointed breath. Stormrunner was an excellent captain in terms of authority and organisation, but he wasn’t exactly known for his outspoken opinions. “My decision to leave Canterlot; to face the dragons here. Do you think it was a mistake?” she asked, almost as a prompt.

“Now that we are here? No.”

Celestia paused, hoping for more. Then she took another breath and tried again. “Have I been rash or shortsighted? Do you think I’ve taken too big a risk?”

“We have the element of surprise. That will be key. I believe we have a good chance of victory.”

Celestia nodded while at the same time inwardly shaking her head. She wanted to grab hold of him and shake him. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted him to stop being so damn professional and... talk to her! “I have... been worried that I was making the wrong choices,” she admitted.

“Do not worry, your highness. I believe we will succeed,” said Stormrunner. He didn’t smile. He didn’t even make eye-contact.

Celestia sighed under her breath, but her composure remained. Whatever conversation she was hoping for; whatever comfort she sought, she wasn’t going to find here. And if she couldn’t talk to Stormrunner...

The truth was, she hadn’t had anyone she could talk to for two-hundred years. And at times like this, when she felt she really needed it... it seemed like there was no one she’d ever be able to talk to again. She was alone.

She couldn’t help but steal a quick, forlorn glance at the moon overhead, even as four of her pegasi guards maneuvered a large thick cloud over its face, blocking its light.

Nevermind. There were more important matters. Her own solace would have to wait until... well, never. But for now there were other issues. “Stormrunner, our goal is to drive the dragons back into their own land. I need you to ensure that all of the troops understand this. Lethal force is not to be used except in self-defence, and only if absolutely necessary. Is this clear?”

“Yes, your highness.”

“Good. There is one other thing...” she paused with slight hesitation. “I want you to keep Sky away from me.”

“Princess? Is she bothering you?”

“No, not at all,” said Celestia with a faint smile. Then she looked down, bringing a gleaming, gold-clad forehoof to her gleaming, gold-coloured breastplate. “I believe she will want to be near me when the fighting starts. If the dragons respond violently, I will be a target. And not a very subtle one. I don’t want her put at risk.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Thank you, Captain.” They had walked about half-way round the shore now, to the northern edge. She looked back over the lake to find a huge bank of compressed fog hanging over it, and above the fog a massive formation of thick, black cloud. She nodded.

“I think we are ready.”

–––

Lying on his belly on the northernmost peak, Valkyr grumbled to himself. There was nothing quite like poor weather to sap the morale, and from the crystal-clear night that it had been, the weather had decidedly taken a turn for the worse.

First, a stray cloud had completely obscured the moon and stubbornly refused to move, casting everything into clinging, cloying dark. Then, sweeping from the north, a huge fog bank had drifted in, and was even now settling into and over the valley. It was almost as thick as soup, and he could see nothing further than about fifteen meters away. Certainly his role as a sentry was now defunct.

And there was worse to come. He spread his wings and took flight, ascending over the fog to do a quick, aerial circuit of the valley, and... ugh. Above the fog there was a thin band of clear air, but above that there even seemed to be another layer of clouds which looked decidedly like rain.

No, now it was thunder.

No, wait... lightning!

Lightning... striking down through the fog into the valley! Repeatedly! Constantly! A continuous series of thin lightning forks, slicing down to where the troops were sleeping!

Then the rain started in earnest. A deluge. A torrent. A monsoon of water falling from the clouds above. He heard startled shouts coming from the valley below, though the fog prevented him from seeing anything beneath. And now the wind was picking up too. Heavy gusts, blowing him off balance and making it difficult to remain in the air with any degree of control. And the gales grew stronger, blowing always from the north towards the south, reaching hurricane force!

The lightning intensified, striking with fierce cracks. The wind roared with a fury unlike any other. And each drop of rain seemed like a hammer-blow against his hide.

And then, from the clouds above, diving in synchronised formation towards the valley, a legion of ponies. Flying, winged horses pulling golden chariots that, against all probability, somehow remained in the air. And on the back of these chariots, more ponies. All in armor, and all armed with bows.

Valkyr snarled, preparing to draw breath and unleash a torrent of flame that would surely knock several from the sky. But even as he did so, a pony armed with one such bow took aim at him and let an arrow loose.

The arrow struck his left wing harmlessly, his hide easily capable of resisting such a pathetic attack. He was about to give a sinister chuckle and introduce his would-be assailant to a world of fire, when he suddenly lost his balance in the air and began to fall. Shocked, he turned to examine his struck wing to find that it was completely covered in ice! Actually encased, in a block of ice that had come from nowhere! He fell into the fog and a moment later landed heavily on the ground, his senses almost completely knocked from him.

The shouts from the troops had turned to panicked roars by now. The fog was clearing, chased away by the wind and the rain, and as visibility slowly returned, all was hysteria among the dragons.

The lightning strikes ravaged the ground, throwing up great gouts of dirt and mud that confused and disoriented. The thunder continued to deafen. The small wood within the valley was ablaze with fire and cast everything nearby into a violent orange hue, shadows dancing and flickering in a tempest of confusion. Arrows rained down from above, and from whatever point they impacted, a large chunk of ice immediately formed and spread. Dragons were being struck left, right and centre, some with entire limbs and wings immobilised in frozen water. And it wasn’t just the arrows either: magic was afoot too. A wide variety of offensive spells cast by unicorns from the rear of the chariots as they were all pulled in circles around the valley by their pegasi bretheren. They struck dragons on joints and wings, causing pain. Flash-pop spells assaulted their eyes and blinded, deafened and dizzied them.

Every dragon on the ground found themselves either dazed, restricted, or else going to the aid of one who was. They blew fire on their comrades to free their trapped limbs from the ice, and those who had been struck by lightning or magic were roused, shaken, and brought back to their senses... only for the cycle to repeat again!

An organised counter-attack was impossible, and the few dragons that tried to make reply to their foes found no effect to their attacks. They could not fly without being felled by an ice-arrow or magic spell, not to mention the crippling wind that seemed to have little effect on the ponies who mastered it. And the ponies themselves were always too far away for a flame attack to have any effect.

Then, the ponies seemed to relent slightly. Their attacks became less intense and their chariots ascended higher into the sky, above the level of the hilltops. But before the dragons could even think of consolidating their position, there came a tornado from the north.

Huge, with a funnel at least a hundred and fifty meters wide, churning the ground beneath, tearing trees from their roots and devouring everything in its path.

Collectively the dragons fled. Valkyr, still disoriented and trying desperately to keep from blacking out, felt himself aided to the air by two of his comrades. As a group the dragons helped their colleagues to their claws and to their senses and took flight, desperate to avoid being consumed by the whirlwind bearing down on them. With the wind still blowing gales from the north, south was the only direction in which they could realistically fly.

Every dragon turned tail and evacuated the valley over the southern hills.

Except one.

–––

It was going better than expected. Better than she had any right to hope. Better than she could have wished for in her wildest dreams.

The dragons had looked fearsome, but they lacked any semblance of discipline or structure. They had panicked immediately and never looked like recovering. Attacks from her archers with military-grade ice-arrows, and magic from her best spell-casters were keeping them completely suppressed, and even now several were taking to the air in desperation, striving for the southern hills and safety, and more looked ready to join them. In a few moments a massive tornado – for which once again, she had Fairweather, Avalanche and the Wonderbolts to thank in large part – should finally drive them out of the valley.

Stormrunner was supervising Sky at as safe a distance above the melee as possible, and she was helping to generate the wind that was pushing the dragons away to the south as they fled. Celestia herself had eschewed her chariot and was flying alone, confident she could deal with any threats the dragons might present, and not wishing to draw attacks to any of her guards.

And then, she saw him. At the base of the lee of the ridge that almost separated the valley into two. A large, bronze-scaled dragon with a half-broken horn on his head. The one whom Sky had believed was the leader. The one who Avalanche had believed was the General. The one who Celestia took to be the orchestrator of this whole nightmare.

He was still. Lying there. He appeared unconscious. He appeared... asleep!

Somehow the thunder had not woken him. Somehow the rain had not bothered him. And being in the shelter of the ridge had kept him from the worst the wind and storms had to offer, especially since they were concentrated further west anyway.

Even before she’d made the conscious decision, she found herself angling towards him, diving quickly. She landed atop the ridge, putting herself above him at a height of perhaps thirty feet. And she looked down upon him with fury.

Him. He had organised this army. He had brought them here, to the very doorstep of Equestria. He had every intention of bringing pain and loss and suffering to her ponies who had done nothing to deserve it! And if given the chance, he would certainly again...

Anger built quickly, her composure forgotten. Her little ponies. So innocent. So curious. So eager to reach out and offer love and warmth to all they met. So willing to see the best in others no matter who they were. And he wanted to hurt them!

No! She wouldn’t allow it. She had one duty above all others: to keep her subjects safe. She had failed to recognise the danger he posed. She had failed to stop this before it started. And if tonight even one of her ponies was hurt, she would have failed them in every possible way. Because of Him!

She felt her jaw clench and her scowl deepen. She felt herself plant her hooves and lower her horn. She felt the anger within her rise to such intensity that it seemed to burn!

How dare he! She would stop this here. She would make sure he could never hurt anyone. She would do whatever was necessary to keep her ponies safe!

And yet for all her anger, for all her righteous rage... she could not. Not while he lay there asleep like a lazy, overgrown oaf, oblivious to the frightened roars of his army, a stupid half-grimace on his ugly lips, and her fury only grew at the realisation that her morality was delaying her from executing her duty.

Celestia lit her horn, her golden aura deepening and intensifying. Half-a-dozen similar auras appeared over the dragon, around wrists, ankles, neck and tail, strong enough to immobilise him completely.

There would only be one question. She would give him one chance. She would offer him ONE opportunity. And if she felt he could not be redeemed, coerced or reasoned with... there would be one outcome!

Her anger peaked. Unable to restrain herself, she bellowed with a cacophonous shout, her Royal Canterlot Voice unused for more than half a century but brought forth now by a rage both raw and passionate. Her cry echoed across the whole valley; a scream at the top of her lungs. One question. One word.

“WHY?!”

The Six Hour War, part II

In the dream, all was fire.

He stood alone upon a mountain of ash that had once been the world and the bones of every living thing in it. Life crumbled and turned to dust under his claws and there was nothing else but flame, screams, thunder, and panic. And he atop it all. Ruler of a realm utterly destroyed; all life and beauty exterminated.

And then, in the distance, the question he feared most. The one he could not answer.

Why?

The question seemed to persist; to pull at him, and he found himself dragged from the dream towards the light.

He woke, to the ringing of the question still in his ears. He woke to find himself bound by shackles of magic and light. He woke to see the Horse-Witch herself standing over him, looking down upon him with vengeful fury from the top of the ridge! He woke to the roar of thunder, the flashes of lightning, the howling of wind, and the yells of panic from dozens of dragons as he saw their shadowy figures take flight over the hills back into the south.

He woke, and knew defeat.

He woke, and knew relief.

It was already over.

He did not even try to resist the bonds that held him. He simply looked up at the pony on the ridge, and waited for the end.

“Why?” she repeated, her voice now cold and seething. “Why do you bring war to us? What have my subjects done to you, that makes you wish to inflict pain, anguish and suffering on them?! Why have you amassed so much hatred for my ponies, when we want only tolerance, peace and love! Why?!” she screamed again, her eyes seeming to glow with rage.

Ragnarok laughed. It was bizarre. He was trapped, at the mercy of a righteous enemy who was about to end his life, and yet found that all he could do was laugh. The relief washing over him seemed to invoke a kind of mild hysteria. He laughed, to the obvious consternation of his executioner, which only made him laugh harder for what seemed like endless moments.

His laughter ran its course while the Horse-Witch looked down on him with mixed anger and disgust. And still the end did not come. She was actually waiting for his answer before she sent him to his fate!

And what did it matter? What harm could the truth do? Wound his pride? Hah! If she wanted to know, she had earned it, though he was certain she would find it underwhelming, and that thought gave him a tiny smirk.

“Such arrogance. To assume it is all about you,” he said with a sneer. Then he gave a smug chuckle. “You believe I am here out of hatred? That I have taken against your kind, perhaps because of some arbitrary quality that instills in me some loathing or contempt or scorn? And that this drives me to seek your annihilation? No,” he said with a grin and a subtle head-shake. “This has nothing to do with you at all! I am here because my subjects expect me to deliver them riches and glory; because it is my duty to appease them and pander to their mindless avarice; and because your lands were an inviting prospect which I believed could be seized with little effort or bloodshed. And, when I realised it could not, I was too proud to renege on my promises, and too weak to tell my people, ‘no.’”

The white pony looked down her muzzle at him, and there was only contempt in her eyes. “So instead you approach my border with an army? You make plans to attack my city? To hurt my ponies who have done nothing to deserve this?! And you justify this by claiming it is your ‘duty’?! Because you would prefer a war than having to swallow your arrogant pride?!” she spat.

Ragnarok felt himself recoil slightly. Then his teeth clenched and his deep scowl returned with an anger of its own. “I would ‘prefer’ nothing of the sort! I don’t claim war is justified. I don’t claim to want this! But what I want is secondary to what my subjects demand!Your people may have done nothing to deserve this, but ‘deserve’ is a foreign concept to those motivated by greed. I am simply the instrument bound to satisfy their hunger. Fortunately, it has brought me to ruin before I could do any damage,” he finished with a faint snort.

Then, he cracked a slim, wicked grin. “And as for my pride? Hah!” he barked. “I will be forever remembered as the one-year King, blinded by greed and ambition, who led an army into war on a wave of hubris, to the most humiliating defeat that dragons have ever known, and who met his end shamed and disgraced at the hooves of a magic pony.” His smile vanished and he scowled once more. “But I would rather be that, than an abomination who murdered thousands and turned the world to ash for no reason other than because his people wanted more shiny things!” he said with a snarl as his gaze bored into the Horse-Witch above him. Then he relaxed, resigned to what came next. “I should thank you for that. Now end this, Horse-Witch. I have given you your answer.”

Before she could respond though, their conversation was interrupted by one of the smaller flying horses in golden armour alighting atop the ridge at her side. He took a double-take when he saw Ragnarok, but recovered quickly and addressed the taller pony. “Princess Celestia,” he said. “We have driven every dragon out of the valley – except this one it seems – and they have fled southwards toward the desert.”

“How many casualties have we suffered?”

“None to speak of, your highness. Slight burns and scratches, for the most part. No-one is seriously hurt.”

“Good. Thank you Stormrunner,” replied his captor – Celestia apparently. Then – and it was subtle indeed – he saw her sigh in relief. “Clear the weather. Then recall our forces and have them marshall at the lake.”

“Princess? You’re not coming?” he asked.

“Our negotiations are ongoing,” Celestia replied, looking once more at him lying at the base of the ridge. It was most odd, he found himself thinking. All of her anger, her spite, her anguish – it just seemed to have evaporated the instant that other pony had appeared, replaced by an air of calm.

Ah... evaporated? Or repressed?

The one she called Stormrunner took wing and departed, and Celestia once more looked down at him. Except now her countenance was calmer, more considered, and she scrutinised him as though he were a dangerous curio.

He gave her a toothy grin. “You wear it well, Princess, that cloak of serenity. Had I not already seen beneath it I would not have guessed it was a disguise at all. I don’t know whether to congratulate you on its craftsmanship, or console you for the reason you wear it in the first place. Now,” he said, his grin once more becoming a scowl. “Are you going to delay this much longer?”

For a moment she simply looked at him, continuing her scrutiny. Then, at length, she seemed to come to a decision, and her hard stare softened some. “What is your name, Sire?” she asked.

He growled again, but grudgingly acquiesced. If she wanted his name for her list of conquests, she could have it. “Ragnarok. When you mount my head, do be sure to spell it correctly.”

“Lord Ragnarok... can we end this? Here, between us?”

He growled at her impatiently. “This will end when you do your duty, as I would in your place! Must I spell it out?! If you release me, I am a vengeful threat to your people. If you kill me, I am a warning to all dragons of the folly of war with your kind. There is only one choice you can make, Princess Celestia, so make it and put an end to this farce!”

“So I must kill you then? There is no other way? If I released you, you would, without any doubt, return with another army to wage war. Is that what you are telling me?” she asked, fixing his gaze with a hint of skepticism.

Ragnarok gritted his teeth. “That is what you must assume, Princess! Nothing I say should be given any credence. Not when the fate of your entire kingdom rests on it!” He was being evasive, but he was determined he would not go to the grave a liar on top of everything else.

Nothing was said for long moments. Ragnarok fixed a glower on Celestia, who simply gazed back at him, calmly and patiently searching his eyes. Then, from the top of the ridge, he saw her take a deep breath in and let it out, her face softened further, and she finally spoke again. “You would have me believe that I have no other choice but to kill you... but that isn’t true. In Equestria we don’t settle arguments by hurting others. There are other ways. Not easier ones... but better ones.” She looked him in the eye. “We could try forgiveness and trust instead.”

There was the briefest of surprised pauses. Then, remembering himself, Ragnarok snorted in derision. “You would be a fool to trust me. I offer you no guarantees. You have no assurances, no securities. If you release me there is no compulsion for me to honour any terms you set. I might make you a thousand promises if I believed I might save my own scales, and be bound by none of them! You have no reason to believe anything I say.”

“That is why it is trust. I don’t want terms or promises. I am not asking for your surrender, I am asking for your help,” she said. “You are right. I have no reason to believe you... and you have no reason to believe me. Except...” She never once broke his gaze. “Lord Ragnarok... there doesn’t need to be a war between us. I do not want one. I do not believe you want one either. Can we not start there?”

–––

“We are regrouping at the lake,” called Stormrunner to the assembled throng of pegasi and chariots. “Everypony form up and move out.”

“Where’s the Princess?” asked Sky nervously, flapping at his side. “Is she okay?”

“She is fine,” said Stormrunner. “She will join us soon.”

“But where is she?”

“She is down there,” Stormrunner said, pointing with a hoof. “Talking to that leader-dragon you saw. She will be fine. Now come on, she has ordered us back,” he said, putting on a turn of speed and making for the head of the triple-file column of pegasi-drawn chariots that was even now beginning to vacate the valley over the northern peaks.

But Sky did not keep up. She tarried and slipped behind, unable to take her eyes off the Princess – her golden armor and the aura of her horn just barely visible on the far side of the darkened valley. And she was down there with that huge dragon. On her own? What if something happened? What if he tricked her, or hurt her? It would be Sky’s fault wouldn’t it? For bringing the Princess here. For getting her hurt. She glanced ahead, but Captain Stormrunner was too busy ordering the ranks of chariots as they flew by, and she quietly fell to the rear of the line as it passed.

When they were gone she turned and made for the ridge. She wasn’t going to leave the Princess behind on her own with a horrible dragon.

–––

When Valkyr came to his senses again, he had already been hoisted from the valley by two other dragons, carried at least two miles to the south, and sat on the ground where the remainder of the forces appeared to be congregating. Here, the grass of the green plains was gradually giving way to scrubland, where it would eventually lose the battle of life and become dry, cracked soil and eventually, desert further south.

Valkyr shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He looked around himself to find the entire regiment of dragons from the valley looking various shades of bewildered and aghast. None appeared too badly hurt. A few ice-burns here and there, and a couple of scorch-marks from where lightning had struck scale, but all in all, everyone appeared...

Wait... everyone?

“You there!” he called to the least-shocked dragon he could see. “Where is Ragnarok?!”

“I don’t know. When the fog came down... I– I couldn’t see a thing.”

"He's not here?!"

The other dragon shook his head.

“Fools! Idiots! You turn tail and run and leave our king behind?!” he cried. He looked left and right and was met with a distinct lack of enthusiasm from the still shell-shocked contingent. He gave a loud, frustrated roar and, beating his wings took to the air, heading as quickly as he could for the valley.

He covered the ground swiftly, climbing over the hills and seeing that the weather had improved as quickly as it had deteriorated. The moon had even forced its way clear of that stubborn cloud, and as he crested the southern peak, he just about made out Ragnarok, lying at the base of the ridge, entrapped in some kind of magical, glowing bonds. And on the top of the ridge, a white pony clad in gold armor, stood over him triumphantly.

And then... flying towards the ridge from his left to his right across the valley, a lone, smaller blue pony. The remainder of the enemy seemed to have vacated and left these stragglers behind.

Seeing his chance, he beat his wings hard and arrowed for the pony in flight. He closed the distance in moments, approaching it from slightly behind. By the time the oblivious equine realised he was there it was too late for her. He reached out with a huge claw and seized her mid-flight, grasping her securely. She let out a frightened cry and struggled pathetically against his grip, but he paid her no heed as he headed for the ridge, and the pony holding his king prisoner.

–––

“Can we not start there?” asked Celestia.

It was a risk, to be sure, but their conversation had not proceeded as she had expected. She had expected anger, and indignation and an arrogant attempt to justify his planned slaughter. And instead she had what she felt was something akin to a confession.

He was a new king, trying his best and making all the wrong decisions for what he thought were the right reasons. He wasn’t a monster, just unprepared for the pressure and responsibility that came with power. Not evil, just hopelessly misguided. And he was even starting to see that himself. There was no reason this had to end in war or execution, if they could just trust each other a little.

Ragnarok looked as though he were about to reply. And then suddenly, their conversation was interrupted.

Another dragon, silver in scale, landed heavily on the opposite side of the ridge and drew himself up to his full height. He towered over Celestia, putting her between him and the still-bound Ragnarok at the base of the far side of the earthen mound. And as he did so, Celestia clearly saw, grasped tightly in his large right claw...

“Sky!” Her blood ran cold.

The new dragon snarled and then gave a low, smug growl. He met Celestia’s gaze with cold fury. “Release our King at once, pony. Or I shall crush the life from this one.”

“Sky! Are you alright?”

“Princess! I’m sorr– Hnggh! Ngh!” Sky trailed into pained groans as the silver dragon’s grip grew noticeably tighter.

“Stop it! Release her!” shouted Celestia, in what she hoped was a commanding tone. Though, she didn’t feel very commanding at the moment. Her composure was fragile and she felt panic begin to creep. Had Ragnarok been stalling for time? Was that his intention – to distract her while his reinforcements gathered?

She could not rescue Sky without first releasing the spell which bound Ragnarok. And if she did, she and Sky would be trapped between two angry dragons. Sky could be injured, and escape was far from certain. But even if they did survive... she hadn’t yet averted a war. She needed more time!

“What is your answer, pony?” snarled the silver dragon. “Are you going to free Lord Ragnarok, or do I have to kill this one first?”

And then, from behind her, came Ragnarok’s voice. Calm and patient, in a way he had not been so far.

“Celestia. Release me.”

She turned to him, and found him looking up at her with an urgent sincerity that had not been there a moment earlier.

Sincere or not, it was her only realistic course of action. She needed her horn unoccupied to try and save Sky and, turning back to the silver dragon, she allowed the binding spell to release and her aura extinguished. As soon as it happened, she planted her hooves and made ready to cast a lance of magic at the back of the silver dragon’s claw, hoping to trigger a reflex action that would cause it to drop Sky if he refused to let her go. The rest she would have to improvise.

Behind her, Ragnarok slowly rose to his haunches and drew himself up; one dragon on either side of the ridge, both looming over her. But Ragnarok seemed only interested in his counterpart.

“Valkyr. Tell me of our casualties.”

“There is nothing significant to report, Ragnarok. No-one is too badly injured, though a few cannot yet fly. We have sustained no fatalities.”

“Good. And how many losses have we inflicted in reply?” He already knew the answer to this question of course, though he gave nothing away.

Valkyr, for his part, became visibly nervous, and began to fidget just a little. “Uh... it’s difficult to be certain, but we believe... none.” He braced himself for what he clearly believed would be a furious response.

“Oh,” said Ragnarok simply. Then he fixed his gaze on Sky. “I see you have taken a prisoner though. For what purpose?”

“I... I intended to secure your release from the enemy.”

“And now I am free, yet you are still clutching it.” Ragnarok raised an eyebrow at his counterpart. “Do you have something else in mind?”

Judging from his reaction, Valkyr was obviously in surprise at how much he was having to spell this out. “We can use it to leverage victory. To demand that their leader surrenders – as you planned – and then conquer their lands.”

“Ah. I see,” said Ragnarok, as though finally caught up. “Well, I am the king. I think I’d better see to that.” He held his claw out, open.

Valkyr held his own claw out and dropped Sky into Ragnarok’s palm, his confused expression never quite vanishing. Sky landed with a frightened oof, sat up, dazed, and then became very still, a terrified expression on her face and her right wing drooping as though it were sprained or worse. If she couldn’t fly, escape for her was going to be almost impossible... and Celestia wouldn’t leave her behind.

Ragnarok didn’t close his claw, just allowed her to sit there, mute and afraid, but at least in no discomfort. Then he turned to Celestia and put on an authoritative, arrogant tone. “Princess Celestia! If you do not surrender immediately, and allow my army to lay waste to your cities and destroy your entire people, I will end the life of this one, single pony! What do you say?”

Sky began to cry in silent fear even as Celestia tried to beseech Ragnarok. “Please, you do not need to–”

“Will you surrender or not?” shouted Ragnarok.

“I... I cannot,” she said, even as a strange wave of calm fell. She had failed. She had failed in her first duty; to protect all of her ponies. “Sky, I am so sorry. I cannot surrender the lives of every pony in Equestria in exchange for one.”

“It’s okay, Princess, I know. My fault anyway, right?” came Sky’s voice from above her, resigned and soft. She closed her eyes and sniffed, tears falling freely.

But Ragnarok simply looked back to Valkyr. “Hmm. Well, that didn’t work. Now what do you suggest?”

Valkyr’s surprised expression seemed to be a permanent fixture at the moment. “Ragnarok, are you feeling okay?”

“I am fine, Valkyr, though I seem to be in a bit of a pickle, don’t I, thanks to you. After all, I’m still holding this pony, which I’m certainly not going to do forever. So it seems I can either let it go, or I can carry my threat through. Well, this was your idea. What should I do?”

“Ragnarok... if you let it go, it will show that your threats can be safely ignored without consequence. You will lose all credibility in the eyes of our enemy.”

“So I should carry my threat out then? I should kill this pony?”

“I... well, it is the only other option. So, yes.”

“Ah.” Then, at last, Ragnarok’s expression changed, becoming a deep glower and an angry rictus, and when he spoke, his voice was a low, seething snarl. “And what, Valkyr, do you suppose happens then?”

“I... don’t understand...”

Ragnarok growled in frustration. “Celestia! I have just killed your pony here...” he brought Sky to his eyeline – “I am afraid you are dead. Please behave as such” – and then turned back to the Princess. “Now are you going to surrender?”

“I cannot,” said Celestia, her composure gone now and tears coming to her eyes. “Lord Ragnarok, please–!”

“What if I kill another? And another after that? Will you surrender then? No?” But he was looking at Valkyr now, meeting his gaze with a steely, cold stare. “Do you not see Valkyr?” he growled. “No casualties. None! On either side. Do you think this an accident? Do you believe we have been lucky? That we have escaped here today due to some fortunate twist of fate or fluke? No, we have been spared!

“I have vastly underestimated our foes. We have escaped serious injury for no reason other than their Princess did not wish it, and now you bring me this pony claiming it is the key to victory, and in doing so set this whole evening upon the edge of a knife! If I kill this one, a line will be crossed. They will hate us. They will attack us with vengeance and fury and we will suffer. And we will hate them. And we will attack, and they will suffer! And it will not end! This is not victory! You would have me trade a defeat which costs us nothing for one which would cost everything! NO!” he roared.

“Ragnarok–”

“You will address me as My Lord, Valkyr!” Ragnarok boomed. Then his eyes narrowed and his voice hissed with anger. “And you will listen to me very closely. Their forces are regrouping at a lake to the north. You are going to take this pony – Sky, is it? – and you are going to deliver her to them. Safely. Unharmed. In as humble a manner as your ungainly frame can manage. And if they see fit to let you leave without a spear through your throat, then we will call that a truce and you will rejoin our forces and lead them home. I will not begin taking lives and risk full-scale war to preserve my precious 'credibility!'”

“My Lord, I–”

“Do as I say, Valkyr! And if they ask what has become of their Princess, tell them that she is safe, and that... our negotiations are ongoing.”

Valkyr, still shocked, bowed in humility. Then Ragnarok handed Sky to him and he took her ever so gently, as though she were made of paper. With no further words, Valkyr unfurled his wings, took skyward and climbed for the northern hills, passing over them and out of sight.

Ragnarok looked down, to see Celestia’s face awash with worry. “Do not be concerned, Celestia. I assure you, she will be safe. Valkyr’s father was our former King: he is well versed in the need to obey orders.” Ragnarok sighed, then he brought his forelegs to the ground and lay on his belly at the base of the ridge while keeping his neck raised. It brought him more or less to Celestia’s eyeline as she stood on the ridge-top. “His father was like a father to me. And in spite of what you have just seen, Valkyr does not want to kill – though he is slightly more indifferent to it than I would like. He simply wishes to help make me a respected king; to help me avoid a humiliating defeat.” He chuckled. “But there was never any chance of that.”

Celestia looked at him, sincerity in her eyes. “Thank you, for what you did,” she said.

Ragnarok simply waved her gratitude away. “I was enjoying our conversation too much to tolerate interruption,” he said. “You said you believed I did not want a war with your kind. You were right.” He met her gaze again briefly, then sighed. “I have known Valkyr for longer than I have known any dragon. Yet even when I found my misgivings about this invasion growing too strong to ignore, I could not confide in him, or indeed anyone. I could not admit that I was troubled by the thought of harming a tribe of small frilly ponies. To do so would be to appear soft; to invite ridicule and scorn. I was not strong enough to deflect such accusations, so I remained silent. I acted as though all was well, to maintain the appearance of strong leadership.

“They are not bloodthirsty, Princess, nor cruel. But greed is a powerful impulse. It blinds and it consumes. It makes bad decisions sound tempting; it makes insurmountable challenges appear trifling; and at worst it cheapens life itself. And when one is surrounded by it at all times, one loses sight of reality. I am not immune. You have my gratitude, Celestia, for stopping me before I became a monster. It is just a shame I am here making an enemy of you.”

“We do not have to be enemies,” said Celestia. “I will not be an enemy to you, if you will say the same.”

“Hah! A little late for that Princess. Perhaps had I not set up camp at your border with an army. But then, we would not have met in the first place. No, ‘enemies’ will do just nicely,” he said with a sharp-toothed smirk.

“Very well, Lord Ragnarok. But perhaps in future–”

“Stop!” Ragnarok said suddenly, interrupting her with a hard, but confused stare. “Wait...”

Celestia looked at him in surprise. She was about to ask what was wrong when–

“You are wearing your cloak again. You garbed yourself in it so subtly I did not even notice.” He looked into her eyes one at a time, flicking between them as though searching for some answer hidden within. “You raise it like a shield,” he concluded. “I do not wish to speak to you. Where is the other Celestia? The impassioned one? The one who screams like a storm at a mighty dragon without fear, and who does not talk like a vacant automaton reading from a script? I would speak to her.”

“I’m not sure what you–”

But Ragnarok interrupted her again. “I said something...” he continued, as though working a problem through. “Something that made you raise your guard in response. What was it? Why do you choose to cover yourself in this... boring calm? Where did your cloak come from, Celestia?”

Celestia was silent for a moment, taken aback. Her composure was second nature to her by now. She hadn’t even noticed herself slipping back into it, and none of her subjects would ever have dared to question it. But Ragnarok was right. It had reformed in response to something he’d said, like a reflex action, and as she replayed the conversation in her head, she found it.

I could not confide in him, or indeed anyone...

I could not admit that I was troubled... so I remained silent...

I acted as though all was well, to maintain the appearance of strong leadership.

Celestia sat, as though the wind had been knocked out of her, and her composure fell away once more. She looked to the sky, to the moon, and drew a ragged breath. “I... I lost someone very close to me,” she whispered. “The only pony I could ever talk to. The only one who could cheer me up and make me laugh. Since then... I have only felt alone. My subjects... they grant me far too much reverence. They seem to believe I am perfect... infallible. They believe I am separate from them, and so I have become. I cannot talk to anyone, so I talk to no-one and I long for the days when I could.”

“So you cover yourself in a passionless facade? To hide the fact that you have doubts and fears as all do? Because you believe your people need to see you as something greater? Pah! Your people may as well worship a statue,” snorted Ragnarok without tact. “Whom did you lose? Someone you ‘loved,’ no doubt.”

“My sister.” She never took her eyes off the moon. “Luna. My little sister.” She drew another breath and beat back the tears. “I do love her. I miss her so much. I miss just talking to her. I miss seeing her laugh. I wish I could bring her home. It has been so long now...”

“She is alive then? But you do not know where she is?”

“No, I know exactly where she is,” said Celestia, the moon filling her vision now. “But I can’t reach her. It is a long and complicated story.”

There was a lengthy pause. Then, finally, “Tell it.”

Celestia at last broke her skyward gaze and turned to him instead, even as he continued. “I am in no hurry to return, shamed and humiliated to my people. Tell your story, Princess, I insist. Go on. ‘Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria...’” he prompted.

Celestia forced away a scowl at Ragnarok’s apparent sarcasm. She had never talked about it before. There had never been anyone to listen. But as she looked at Ragnarok, despite his tone, she believed she saw genuine interest in his eyes. Concern even?

Perhaps it was nothing of the sort, but... after all this time she desperately wanted to talk. To anyone. And... she might never get the chance again. She sighed and her gaze fell to the floor. “We were two regal sisters, who ruled together...”

–––

Ragnarok listened while Celestia told the story. She relayed the tale of her and her sister, once so close, living in their castle together in the Everfree. She told of Luna’s fall into jealousy, and the horrific transformation it caused. She recounted the battle that they had fought, and the terrible decision she had had to make. She told of the spell she had used to imprison her, alive and safe, in the moon itself in order to protect the rest of the world. And how she had been searching ever since for a way to bring her back; to bring back the sister she knew and loved and not the monster she had become.

And while he had remained completely silent, with each passing sentence Ragnarok’s expression had grown angrier and angrier, until by the end, it was thunder itself.

“An entertaining tale, Celestia,” he said, fuming with cold rage. “But all lies!”

She hadn’t quite been prepared for this reaction. For not being believed. “It is the truth,” was all she could say.

“LIES!” he shouted again. “You take me for a fool. I was barely fifty years old when the moon changed, but I remember what happened! I know what I saw, and it was not some pony being sent on a wave of magical energy.”

“What... did you see?”

“It was a comet. Streaking from the northern sky. It impacted the moon and shattered, causing the craters and shadows there now. The ones that look so like a horse’s head, but that is coincidence! Nothing more! Not a magical illusion! Not some, ‘Mare in the Moon’ as you say! And that was two centuries ago. Would you have me believe that you are over two hundred years old?! And even that is not the most preposterous part of your tale! I have seen your people command the weather tonight, yes, but commanding the sun and the moon themselves?! Inconceivable!” Ragnarok stood abruptly, lifting himself to all fours, his scowl and his grimace unmoved. “You speak of trust, and then you deliver this. You disappoint me. This has been an interesting evening, Celestia, but not one I care to repeat. Return to your lands. I go to mine. May our paths never cross again.” He spread his wings and made as though for flight.

He raised his head and prepared to leap into the air, and as he did so, he caught sight of the moon, three quarters full and waning, and interrupted his take-off, wings dipping. The moon. It was high overhead, exactly where it had been all night. Exactly. It had not moved. At all.

Pah! The night was playing tricks. He flared his wings again and once more prepared to take skyward. And once more interrupted himself when he caught sight of Celestia, sat with her back to him now, just looking up at the moon. Quietly. Silently. Alone. And got the impression this was in no way unusual for her.

He scowled. “Why would you lie?” he demanded. “At least tell me that before I bid you farewell forever! The truth would have been so much easier to relate than this elaborate fiction. What possessed you?” he asked.

She looked back at him now, a terrible sad and pained expression on her face. Then back to the moon. “It’s the truth,” she said again, her voice but a whisper.

“It can’t be true!” he said, though he was not sure if he was trying to convince himself now. “It is inconceivable! There was an eclipse. There was a comet. It struck the moon and altered its orbit. There were storms and quakes as a result and it was a week before it corrected itself and was seen again. I remember this!”

“And you remember what happened to the sun...”

“What... are you talking about?”

“It was daylight,” said Celestia softly, half lost to memory herself. “The moon rose. There was an eclipse. And then it was night, and you saw the shadow appear on the moon’s surface. And the sun was gone. In the middle of the day.”

Ragnarok’s jaw hung open, but he made no sound, and gave no reply. Celestia took a deep, hollow breath and continued. “For five nights afterwards I didn’t raise the moon. I couldn’t stand the thought of what I had done. I didn’t want to accept that Luna wasn’t around to do it herself. But then the storms came. I didn’t realise at first that they were my fault, but eventually I raised the moon. As I have for every night since. As I must for every night to come. And every time I do I look up and see my sister’s face... and it is so, so painful.”

There was such sorrow there. Such anguish. It was as though she were suffering a physical wound, kept secret beneath her serenity and which now bled freely for the first time in an age. Her composure wasn't a cloak, it was a bandage, and one that had never been changed.

Ragnarok furled his wings and settled once more at the base of the ridge, following Celestia's gaze into the sky. “Two hundred years?” he said.

Celestia nodded sadly. “There are none left alive in my kingdom who remember her. In two hundred years my sister has already passed from knowledge to history to legend. Soon she will be only a myth and beyond that... no-one will even know she existed at all. The only memory of her will lie within me. But she is my sister, and I will never forget her.”

Ragnarok was silent for a long moment, his gaze alternating between Celestia and the moon above. “I have never said these words before, Celestia. To anyone. But... I am sorry." He turned and looked to her once more. "I would offer you my help, but this is far beyond my ken.”

Celestia nodded subtly. Then she sniffed, drew breath, shook her head slightly. She stiffened a little even as her shield of composure threatened to raise again. She turned to him and prepared to bid him–

“Tell me of her.”

Celestia was visibly taken aback for a moment, her composure forgotten. “I have told you all there is to tell,” she said, confused.

“No,” said Ragnarok, shifting now and lying on his back, resting it against the slope of the ridge and propping his neck and head up. “Do not tell me of battles and magic and impossible celestial events. Tell me of your sister. Tell me of Luna.”

"I... cannot imagine you would be interested.”

"I am simply gathering intelligence in preparation for a possible future invasion,” said Ragnarok, twirling a claw dismissively. Then he glanced at her. “You have never spoken of this before, have you? If you continue to repress it as you have, you will become so good at it that in the end, all that will be left of you is your cloak, and a vacant expression. And that... would be such a waste,” he finished with a toothy smirk. “So tell. I wish to hear all about her. The things she did that drove you mad. The jokes she told that made you laugh. Everything.”

And for the first time that evening... she smiled. An actual smile. Celestia took a deep breath, looked at the floor and shook her head slightly, then back once more to the moon, with that happy smile still afixed. “She always loved to play games...”

–––

They talked. For hours and hours, they talked. Celestia told Ragnarok of Luna, which led to her telling him of their past, of Equestria, of Canterlot... of her whole life. And Ragnarok talked. Of his surrogate father the former king, of his early life, and then his surprising and horrifying rise to power, of not knowing how to handle such power, and the spiraling series of decisions he had made that had led him to this point and near-catastrophe... and he spoke of it bluntly, never offering an excuse to hide what he saw as his own incompetence.

They talked and confided and shared beneath the light of the moon. Two rulers, each without an outlet for their concerns and worries, finding solace in the last place either of them would have expected.

They talked of everything they could think of. Until finally, when almost everything had been said, their conversation was interrupted once again by the arrival of Valkyr, as he swooped in from the north and landed with a bow.

Ragnarok took note of his northerly approach and cocked a little grin. “Tell me, Valkyr... have you spent all this time consorting with our enemy? Do I need to try you for treason?”

Valkyr looked abashed – a far cry from his earlier display, as he looked quickly to Celestia and back again. “We have been talking. I am ashamed to say, that they were... more accomodating than I would have been in their place,” he said with a hint of guilt. “But they have sent me back with a message for their Princess. They are concerned that the day is late starting.” He shook his head subtly. “I do not know what they mean, except that the night does seem to have lasted unusually long, and there is yet no sign of sunrise.”

“Indeed?” said Ragnarok, with his own quick glance at Celestia. “I had not noticed.” Then he looked back at Valkyr. “Return to our troops and see them home, Valkyr. I will follow shortly.”

“My Lord... what do you wish me to tell them?”

“Dispense with the Title, Valkyr,” said Ragnarok dismissively. “I don’t care what you tell them as long as it is true, and I do not care what any of them will say.” He fixed Valkyr with a cool stare. “You know, yesterday, I believed it was my duty to satisfy the greed of my subjects. After tonight, it is clear to me that that is not the role of the King at all. It is my job to manage my subjects. To keep them happy while keeping them from running rampant, for the good of the world. Your father knew this very well. That is why he never ‘achieved’ anything! It would have saved a lot of time these past months if he had told me!” he laughed. “Go, Valkyr. Leave us. We will talk more later, but there is one more thing I must attend to here.”

Valkyr nodded. Then he unfurled his wings and took flight, heading south now and out of sight over the silhouetted peaks.

Ragnarok turned to Celestia. “The day is late?”

Celestia simply smiled at him, then turned her attention eastwards. “Would you like to watch the sunrise, Lord Ragnarok?” she said, pointing at a spot between two of the hills which ringed the valley. Then she lit her horn and a moment later, from the exact spot she had pointed to, a warm glow began to appear even as the moon overhead began to descend. The moon passed beneath the horizon quickly, and a moment later the yellow glow intensified and birthed the sun, the bright orb climbing into the morning sky, flooding the world with warmth and light, chasing the shadows of the night away.

Ragnarok looked on, astounded, mouth agape. “Inconceivable...” he whispered.

Celestia’s knowing smile increased a little. “You keep using that word,” she said. “I do not think it means what you think it means.”

“I know exactly what it means,” said Ragnarok, though his growl was absent now, replaced only with awe. “Yesterday, I knew the sun and the moon were heavenly bodies orbiting the earth according to physical laws. Today I find that instead they are commanded by a magic pony from a neighbouring land. As a concept... I find that impossible to believe, and yet I am looking at it...” he trailed off. Then, to himself, “That’s going to take some getting used to.” He shook his head slightly, then turned his gaze back to her. “It raises many, many questions, none of which I believe I would understand the answers to. So I will accept it, for now. Perhaps one day our paths will cross again and you will be kind enough to indulge my curiosity. But for now Celestia, unless you also wish to tell me that water is not wet and the sky is not blue, this is where we part ways.”

“Lord Ragnarok,” said Celestia, catching him before he departed. “It would reassure me to know that I do not need to garrison a legion of troops here, to watch for signs of a future assault from your lands.”

Ragnarok chuckled. Alas, she had slipped beneath her cloak once more. A pity. “If you feel the need to fortify your borders after tonight, Celestia, I will take no offense. In fact, it is almost a compliment. You are a ruler, and you must do whatever you believe is best for your subjects. As I must do what is best for mine...” he said. Then he cracked her a wide, toothy grin, a cocky gleam in his eye. “And after what I have seen tonight, I have very much decided that what is in the best interests of my people... is to avoid a war with yours at all costs.”

Celestia smiled and nodded respectfully, and he returned the gesture. Then he flared his wings and beat them powerfully, launching himself into the air and following the course that Valkyr had flown towards the south, the sunlight glittering on his bronze scales. Then he was gone, and Celestia was alone on the ridge.

She looked at the sun and smiled. For whatever reason there was a peace within her that she had not felt in such a long time. It had felt so good to talk. In fact, she hadn’t realised just how much she had needed it. Her composure had numbed her in that respect. Was Ragnarok right? If she kept hiding her feelings beneath her cloak, as he called it, would she eventually become empty and unfeeling? An emotionless, hollow void beneath a porcelain shell of calm, equally numb to elation as to despair? It was a frightening thought... but one for another day. For now, she felt refreshed and strangely serene, the light of the new sun filling her with a happy, light optimism that had escaped her for too long.

She spread her wings and took flight with a flourish, sailing high over the northern peaks towards the lake, feeling the wind on her feathers and the sun on her flanks. She spotted the lake and the assembled mass of ponies and chariots lining the northern shore and began her descent, eventually landing before her subjects, all of whom looked immensely relieved to see her.

“Your highness, are you alright?” asked Stormrunner, stepping forward.

“I’m fine,” said Celestia with a smile. “I gather you have had a visitor?”

“The dragon, yes. When we saw him approach, we were sure something had happened to you. We were all ready to give him what-for when he showed us Sky, and she stopped us; explained what was going on. After that? Well... it’s been an interesting evening, your majesty.”

“On that we agree,” said Celestia with a nod. “Where is Sky?”

“She is over here, Princess,” said Stormrunner, motioning for her to follow.

He led her a short way through the crowd of guards, to where a loose circle had formed. There, in the centre, lying limp and unconscious on her side upon a pile of blankets, was Sky. Her injured wing was bandaged, and she was being tended to by Avalanche, laid next to her with an open water flagon, gently stroking her mane, and Fairweather standing over her.

“What happened to her?” asked Celestia, shocked.

“She’s okay, your highness,” said Stormrunner. “Her wing is twisted and it’ll be a week before she can fly again. But other than that, she’s not physically hurt.”

“She collapsed about an hour ago,” piped up Avalanche, not taking her eyes off of Sky. “Medic says it’s exhaustion. We don’t think she’s slept in the last twenty-four hours. That and all the stress of tonight seems to have caught up.” Avalanche finally looked up. “She’ll be okay, ma’am. She just needs rest.”

Celestia nodded and allowed herself a sigh of relief. If a sprained wing and one case of exhaustion was all the harm Equestria had suffered tonight, then she had got off very lightly indeed. “Scoop her up, Fairweather, gently. Put her on my chariot and make her comfortable. Once we return to Canterlot, take her to my chambers. She can rest there, and I will stay with her until she wakes.”

“Of course,” said Fairweather.

Celestia nodded. Then, she turned to Avalanche. “Thank you for staying with her,” she said.

Avalanche’s gaze rested once more on Sky, still gently stroking her mane. “She’s got me lookin’ out for her. She might not fly like a Wonderbolt... but she’s sure got the guts of one.” She looked back at Celestia. “You’ll let us know when she’s feeling better, right Princess? Only, once she’s back on her hooves, me and the rest of the squad are gonna take her training. Make sure that wing of hers heals up better-than-new.”

“Oh, we are, are we?” said Fairweather from behind her, wearing a grin that Avalanche couldn’t see.

“Yes, Boss, we are,” said Avalanche resolutely. Then her attention was back with Celestia. “That is, with your permission, ma’am.”

Then Fairweather was looking at Celestia too, still smiling. “Looks like we are. We’ll make sure she gets the best care, Princess,” he said. Then, gingerly, Avalanche and Fairweather gathered Sky up, Avalanche gently laying her across Fairweather’s back, and they carried her away towards the royal chariot.

“Your highness?” said Stormrunner from her side. “The dragons... that silver one, Valkyr, implied that war was off the table, but I get the impression he didn’t have the final say in that. Are we still under threat?”

Celestia looked back towards the hills to the south, trying to see past them to the foreign lands beyond. “No. I don’t think so.” She looked back at him. “But when we return to Canterlot I would like you to see that this border is patrolled at least twice daily. Just in case.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“For now though, let’s go home.”

The battalion formed up and Celestia took her seat on her chariot, next to Sky. Then, they were away, pulled into the sky ahead of the rest of the contingent, and heading northwards.

Two-hundred and four ponies had left Canterlot that evening, and now two-hundred and four were heading home, behind one Princess.

Cruelty

It had been a long day of greetings, pleasantries, introductions, and keeping-up-appearances. But at last it was nearly over. As the final dignitaries were shepherded from the throne room, Celestia finally allowed herself a sigh of relief and let her posture relax into a shallow slump. More than anything, what she wanted now was a soothing cup of camomile tea, a hot bath, and a book to unwind with. The various Very Important Ponies from around the country were perfectly sociable, but having so many in the same room at once all vying for her attention could be... trying.

She was about to rise from the throne and depart for the day when the doors at the far end opened. Her initial thoughts – that one of the guests had simply forgotten a hat or a scarf – were abandoned when through them entered Tick Tock, her scheduler / appointment keeper / secretary... in fact her own personal organiser. He gave a quick, practised bow and approached. “Forgive me, Princess. But there is a party of two outside who request an audience as a matter of urgency.”

Celestia sighed. It was always urgent. All of the dignitaries were just so important, and absolutely nothing could wait. “Tick Tock, I am tired. It has been a long and draining day.”

“Yes, Princess, and I have made that clear to all of the dignitaries outside who were hoping for a little private tet-a-tet with you. But these... well, they are not your guests your highness. They have just arrived in the city, and they have come straight here asking to speak to you. They seem... distraught. If you wish, I will tell them you cannot see them, but I thought you should at least know of their arrival.” He gave her a serious look. One he reserved for matters he thought were troubling or in some way worrisome. “They are begging to see you, your highness.”

Celestia sighed. A whole day of meeting and greeting an army of ponies. What harm could two more do? “Okay,” she said, steeling herself. “Send them in.”

Tick Tock left through the doors, allowing them to swing closed behind him. Celestia once more straightened into her regal posture – oh, her back was going to ache after all this – and prepared to greet her guests, as she had a hundred times already today.

The golden doors at the end of the throne room shifted speculatively. Then, a moment later, the right hand one opened and through it stepped two griffons, a male and a female. They looked about nervously, then straight ahead at her, and became even more nervous. They approached along the plush, red carpet with trepidation, and their claws lightly scraping the fabric was the only sound in the room. Eventually reaching a respectful distance they both stopped and bowed humbly, if awkwardly.

The male griffon was a large, stocky type, with grey plumage which became white around the neck and belly. His female companion was slighter and adorned with brown, speckled feathers, and she appeared to have been crying. They both shifted nervously, unsure of how etiquette expected them to proceed.

“I understand you wanted to see me?” said Celestia kindly. Then, noticing the dried tears on the female’s face, she added, “Is something the matter?”

That seemed to have some effect, and the female griffon broke into sobs. Then, through tear-filled eyes, she looked up. “Please, Princess. She’s our daughter!” she cried.

The male griffon put his foreleg around his partner and she buried her head into his chest, no longer trying to hold back her sorrow. The male looked up into Celestia’s curious face and, composing himself, he began.

“Princess, please forgive us. My name is Waylon, and this is my wife, Marcia. We’re from a small village outside of Quill. We... we...” he struggled. “We’re not rich, your highness,” he admitted. “We’re farmers. All we have is our land and each other.” He took a deep breath, and it took him a moment to continue. “About two weeks ago... our daughter, Erica, was taken from us by a dragon.”

Marcia sobbed, “It just swooped out of the sky and grabbed her up. Carried her away!”

“There wasn’t anything we could do. We... thought we’d never see her again,” continued Waylon. “But a couple of days later we received a message from them. The dragons. It said they were... holding Erica. And that if we ever wanted to see her again... we needed to pay for her.” He shook his head sadly and slumped. “The amount they wanted... it would take us more than a lifetime to afford. So we–”

“They won’t help us!” cried Marcia.

Waylon hugged her a little tighter into his chest and looked back to Celestia, still doing his best to be the composed, supportive husband. But even now, Celestia could see it was a battle he was losing. “We went to the Baron of Quill, to ask him for help, but he told us no. He said if we began negotiating with the dragons, it would only encourage them to make more raids in the future, or some such.” He sighed, but it was a slightly ragged affair. “I can understand his position, but... she’s our daughter. We can’t just abandon her.”

“Everyone we’ve gone to in our government has turned us away!” wailed Marcia. “They won’t help us...”

Waylon looked as though he were about to continue, but he didn’t need to.

“I understand,” said Celestia. “But why come all the way to Canterlot? How can I help when your own people cannot?”

At this, Waylon and Marcia exchanged a nervous glance. Waylon looked up. “I hope you will forgive us, but there was a rumour, your highness. Something we heard from a friend of a friend of a friend. It may not even be true, but the story goes that you know the dragon king himself. That you met him once, a long time ago. We came to see if... that is, to ask you if...”

“Can you talk to him?” asked Marcia. “Can you get him to give our daughter back? Please?”

Celestia could only register surprise, but Waylon spoke again. “We’re desperate, your majesty. We don’t even know if the story we were told is true, or made up. We’re here on a wing and a prayer, but... we have tried everything else. There’s nowhere else we can turn and... if you can’t help us... we’re never going to see our daughter again.”

Celestia took a breath. And let it out. “I don’t believe I can help,” she said. “It’s true, I met the dragon king once. But that was over three hundred years ago. I would not say I knew him. We had one conversation. And I don’t presume to have any influence over him.”

“But couldn’t you at least try?” cried Marcia desperately.

“I am sorry,” said Celestia. “I would risk drawing Equestria into a larger political conflict.”

Marcia looked like she was about to object further, but instead she broke down and once more buried her beak in the soft plumage of her husband’s chest.

“Ssh, honey. It’s okay,” whispered Waylon, hugging her still.

“It’s not okay!” sobbed Marcia.

“No. No... it’s not,” admitted Waylon softly, his own face a mask of sorrowful defeat. Then he looked back up to Celestia. “Thank you for seeing us, your majesty. We’re sorry to have imposed. We’ll not bother you further.” Then with a gentle pull, he guided his wife back towards the doors... and through them... and they swung shut behind him.

And Celestia was left alone in the throne room. With only her decision for company.

She was acting in the best interests of Equestria. Avoiding confrontation with the dragons. This was the safe choice. The prudent choice. The...

It was the wrong choice. Of course it was.

How could she play politics here? Those two griffons had come to her, throwing themselves at her hooves because she was their only hope of seeing their daughter again. And she had just taken that hope away? Without even trying to help? That wasn’t her. That wasn’t right.

She stood from the throne, walking quickly to the double doors, pushing through them and into the hallway beyond, where Waylon, Marcia, and Tick Tock were still gathered.

“Tick Tock? I am heading south on a diplomatic visit. Have my chariot prepared, and find one of the palace suites for our guests. They are welcome to stay and wait until I return.” She turned to the two griffons, and gave them a look of utmost sincerity. “I can make no promises... truly I do not believe he will listen to me. But I will talk to him. And I will try and get your daughter back.”

The looks of relief and happiness on their faces required no words to interpret. And though Celestia was heartened to see them, she herself felt uneasy. She could promise nothing at all...

That cup of camomile tea was going to have to wait.

–––

Twenty minutes later, and with word that her chariot was ready, Celestia left the castle for the courtyard.

And could only register surprise.

Her chariot was there. As were a dozen others, along with an entire phalanx of Royal Guards, all stood at attention and ready to go. And at the head of them, her guard-captain, Valiant Song, saluting smartly.

Celestia couldn’t quite believe it. Valiant had always been efficient, but this was something else. And while the speed at which she had martialled them all was impressive, it was, unfortunately, unwanted on this occasion.

“Captain Valiant? A word?” she said.

Valiant stepped forward. A white-coated pegasus mare with a look of determination about her, she approached the princess close enough that they could talk without being overheard.

“I asked simply for my chariot to be prepared,” said Celestia. “Why are half of the city guard here?”

“For your protection, Princess,” answered Valiant. “Word is, we’re heading into dragon country.”

“I’ve made no mention of my destination,” Celestia pointed out.

“Forgive me, Princess,” said Valiant, in a tone that suggested she was in no way seeking forgiveness, “but it’s my job to keep you safe. So when a pair of griffons arrive in the city, talking about a dragon and a kidnapping, and asking to see you, and when you immediately call for your chariot after meeting with them, and when a Captain who’s served you for as long as I have hears about it... several assumptions are made, resulting in the need for a lot of protection to be organised.”

Inwardly, Celestia sighed. “The gesture is appreciated, Valiant, but this trip is supposed to defuse any potential conflict, not stir it. I will not be crossing the dragon’s border with a small army. The situation is delicate enough. I need only two guards for the chariot. Please, dismiss the rest.”

Valiant nodded back reluctantly. It was obvious that she wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t about to be openly insubordinate about it in front of the Guard. She turned to address them. “All right ponies, the Princess is impressed and you’ve all passed inspection. Now fall out and return to your posts!” Then she walked through the dispersing crowd to the royal chariot, the Princess following behind. They reached it, and the two pegasus stallions already harnessed in. Valiant approached the one on the left and fixed his gaze. “You’re relieved. Get yourself out of that harness and go home. You’ve got the rest of the day to yourself.”

The stallion saluted and did as he was bade. Then Valiant was backing herself into the harness, and when it was secure, she looked back to Celestia. “My job to keep you safe, Princess. So unless you can tell me that this trip is is no way dangerous, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Celestia gave her a resigned nod. No, she couldn’t say that for sure. She could only hope.

She seated herself on the chariot and they took to the air, heading southwards for the border and the desert beyond.

–––

Another day. Wholly unremarkable. Tedious. Dull. Boring.

Ever since he had learned what it was to be a king, Ragnarok had almost wished he hadn’t.

It was not his purpose to lead his people into glorious battle. Nor to secure for them wealth and prosperity. No, it was his job to keep them under control. He was essentially tasked with babysitting a rabble of children, but children who would wipe out everything in their path if left unsupervised. And after a while of looking at his people from his new, heightened perspective he had come to the further, worrying realisation, that many of them were idiots and fools.

No, that wasn’t quite fair. It wasn’t that they were unintelligent, but it appeared they simply lacked any sense of prospect or motivation. Almost none had long-term goals, eschewing them for quick, immediate gratification wherever possible; concerned only for the here and now, and blinded to what might be in the future. A side-effect of their greed. He wondered if he had ever been so short-sighted as they. Being responsible for them had certainly made him see things very differently than he once had.

So he spent most of his days pandering to them. Acknowledging their various – though thankfully few – trivial requests. They might be fools, but for the most part, they were at least self-sufficient fools. But while he was bored and frustrated by his role, it was necessary. The alternative – a cabal of dragons let loose on the world without restraint or guidance – was a horrifying thought.

He yawned, and looked over to his mountain of gold and jewels. His own personal horde. It had certainly grown considerably since he had risen to power. Being King had some perks, he supposed. He was still a dragon after all. He was still greedy himself.

Still, he had been cooped up inside his lair for far too long. This hollow, dormant volcano was starting to feel like a cell.

Ah. Actually, that reminded him. He stood and began making his way to the entrance, but even as he did so, Vanir appeared.

Vanir, an older dragon, shorter than he with cobalt scales, was the closest thing he had to an assistant at the moment. He entered the large, hollow chamber and dipped his head in a quick bow. “My Lord. There is a... visitor outside requesting an audience.”

Ragnarok sighed. Again? Why could his people not solve their own minor problems? “Who is it?” he asked, not bothering to hide his impatience.

“My Lord... she would say only that she was, ‘a friend.’”

Ragnarok snorted. “I do not have friends, Vanir. Go and tell whoever it is that I am not interested in their games!”

“Yes, my Lord.” Vanir bowed again and ducked out of sight into the entrance tunnel.

Great, now he was stuck in here until Vanir could get the interloper outside to leave. Ugh! He hated it when his subjects tried to be clever, or play politic. They were awful at it. ‘A friend.’ Hah! Kings did not have friends. They had subjects and they had enemies, and that was all...

Enemies? She?

Oh. A thin, wicked grin came to his lips, unasked.

Could it be?

Falling into a languid saunter, Ragnarok made his own way to the tunnel entrance and headed outside. Suddenly, boredom wasn’t a concern anymore.

–––

“He will not see you. Now I suggest you leave at once,” he heard Vanir say as he left the tunnel and emerged into the evening desert sun. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the light, but there she was, stood before Vanir, in front of a small golden chariot harnessed to two of her winged companions dressed in full armor. Personal guards no doubt. Goodness, what a terrifying prospect!

“Princess Celestia,” he said, hiding his grin and composing his features into a careful, annoyed-looking frown. “When I wanted to enter your country without permission, I had to do so with an army at my back. I am disappointed that you have not shown me the same respect.”

She was taken by surprise at that, but she recovered almost instantly. He only noticed because he had been looking for it. She was very good at this. “Lord Ragnarok,” she began. “I did not want to provoke or anger you. I have come to speak to you in peace, not to threaten or coerce.”

“Threaten? You? Do not make me laugh, Celestia. No, you have wasted your journey I am afraid. Has Vanir not told you? I am far too busy to entertain guests. Especially when they arrive unexpectedly and uninvited.” He made a show of preparing to turn his back.

“Ragnarok... I’ve come at great urgency. There was no time to send word. Please...” and just for a moment, her composure softened and her gaze became sincere. “Let me speak to you.”

Ragnarok turned back to face her, satisfied he had elicited at least some reaction. She wasn’t yet a hollow shell it seemed. “I suppose I should acknowledge your arrival at the very least. That would be the courteous thing to do. Very well, Celestia. You have sixty seconds to, ‘speak’ to me. Do use them wisely.”

“I’ve been told that you have kidnapped a griffon. That you are holding her and demanding payment for her release.” She looked up at him and stared, clearly reluctant to believe. “Is it true?”

Ah. So that was it. “Fenrir has indeed taken a Ransom. I merely approved it,” he said.

Celestia was once more surprised, but the signs were less subtle now. She had clearly been hoping for a ‘no,’ or at least an answer that might absolve him of responsibility. That would have been more comfortable for her. Too bad.

“And you condone this?” she asked, disappointment written clear across her face.

But before he could reply, Vanir blustered in. “How dare you?! You presume to question our King like this? After he has generously shared his time with you? You are lucky that he does not lock you in a dungeon right now! Leave at once, pony! You are no longer welcome here!”

Ragnarok simply raised an eyebrow. “Vanir? What are you doing?” he asked patiently.

Vanir turned to him in surprise. “My Lord? This pony... she arrives unannounced! She addresses you by name, without Title or respect! She questions our traditions!”

“Yes,” said Ragnarok with a grin. “Refreshing, isn’t it?” He gave a quick glance at Vanir. “I will be the one to decide who is welcome in my lands and for how long, Vanir. But since I am in a good mood today, I will simply caution you to show a little more respect to our guests.” He lowered his tone a little and looked seriously at the other dragon. “That pony there is the most dangerous individual you will ever meet, Vanir. You are lucky she is not as easily angered as I am, because should she take offense and decide to turn you to ashes... I would be disinclined to intervene. Now, I will take your apology as read. I have a job for you. Take Princess Celestia’s entourage and go to Mesa at once. Tell Fenrir that I am coming to inspect his Ransom. I have put it off for too long already, but I wish to speak to Celestia alone first.”

At this suggestion though, one of her armoured bodyguards stepped forward. “If you think I’m leaving the Princess alone with you, you’ve got another thing coming,” she said aggressively.

“Captain Valiant,” Celestia began to rebuke, but Ragnarok held up a claw.

He fixed the female guard with a wide grin. “What are you afraid is going to happen? That I will eat her?” He chuckled. “No harm will come to her, I assure you.” He turned to Celestia. “You may see me as many things, Princess, but I hope a liar is not one of them. If you wish to speak, then allow us to speak without an audience,” he said.

Celestia looked back at her guard, and the guard gave her a look that suggested she thought this an incredibly bad idea. But Celestia nevertheless gave her a very direct nod. “I will be fine, Captain. Go, I will join you shortly.”

Ragnarok raised his head and addressed his own counterpart. “Take them quickly, Vanir, and get them to shade. I suspect they are beginning to cook under all that pointless armour.” Then, just because he could, he fixed the forthright female guard with a stare and a grin, and deliberately licked his lips. The look he got back! Equal parts surprise, fear, and offense. Oh, ponies. Such fun!

Finally Vanir, with his own look of bewilderment that was just wonderful to see, bowed sharply and took to the air, whipping up thin clouds of dust from the dry desert floor as he beat his wings. He circled low a couple of times while Celestia’s guards reluctantly spread their wings and joined him in flight, chariot and all. Then they were in the air heading east, towards a huge, flat-topped pillar of red rock several miles distant. They faded to specks in the sky, and were ultimately lost from sight.

Ragnarok turned back to his guest. “We do not really notice the heat, Celestia, but it must be uncomfortably warm for you. Come, let us talk out of the sun.” He turned and led her back towards the mountain tunnel and into cooler shade.

“You seem somewhat disturbed,” he noted once they were inside, as he led her along the winding, S-shaped tunnel to his lair.

“I had hoped that it wasn’t true, or that you were not aware,” she replied. “I hoped you might want to help. I did not want to believe you were that cruel.”

At this Ragnarok scowled. A real frown this time, fueled by a quick stab of anger. “Cruel? Is that your conclusion already? What do you know of it?!” he seethed.

“I know all I need to,” replied Celestia icily. “An innocent griffon has been kidnapped and is being kept from her family while they are extorted for money they do not have. And you encourage it. Yes, I find it cruel.”

Ragnarok growled. “Vanir was right. You come to me, wholly ignorant and presume to cast judgment! How dare you?” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “And... you are wrong. I do not encourage it. Nor would I say I condone it.”

“But you permit it,” retorted Celestia.

“I do. Because Ransom is an ancient tradition. One that goes back even to the days when primitive cultures believed they needed to offer us sacrifices to ‘appease’ us.” He chuckled with a wry grin. “Thankfully, we put Sacrifice to bed a long time ago. So... pointless.” He looked down at her. “It is not as simple as you believe, Celestia. There are rules.”

Her expression remained unimpressed. “There are rules to kidnap and extortion? Of what kind?”

“The best kind,” said Ragnarok, his grin now wicked. “Arbitrary ones. That I make up, and change at my whim.” Celestia simply gave him a cold stare in reply and the grin vanished into a frown. “One of these days, Celestia, I will acquaint you with the concept of ‘a joke.’ I daresay you might enjoy it.”

“I find no humour in any of this, Lord Ragnarok,” she said professionally.

They finally emerged from the winding tunnel into his huge, roughly dome-shaped lair. He approached his throne, hewn from cooled molten rock directly in front of the entrance, so that the king would be the first thing any entrant would see. He took his seat and Celestia stood before him. He fixed her gaze, but she would not be the first to speak. She patiently waited for him to continue. Very well.

“The rules. Firstly, a ransom is always for the safe return of the subject. Nothing less. I do not allow my guests to be harmed in any way, and if I do not believe a dragon is capable of safeguarding their Ransom, I do not allow them to keep it. Secondly, while the amount of the ransom is decided by the Taker, I must approve it and I have the final say, including the size of my share. There is no point in demanding a ransom that can never be paid. We are in it for profit, nothing more sinister, and something is always better than nothing. Thirdly, I allow my subjects each to take one ransom a year only.” He grinned. “Most never bother. In fact it has been years since I have approved even one.”

“Why?” Celestia raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Because it is tedious and involved. It is not supposed to be an easy route to riches, it is supposed to be a last resort. A way for a dragon to get back on the ladder when their quest to increase the size of their horde stagnates.” He snorted. “No-one likes taking ransoms, Celestia. Look around you. We are in the desert! They drink water that is hard to find. They eat food that we cannot easily provide. They require constant attention, and if they are not well treated or their health falls even marginally, then I become very upset and instead of reward, punishment follows swiftly.” He fixed her gaze. “There is a great deal of risk involved in taking a ransom, Celestia, I make sure of it. Almost invariably, it outweighs the rewards. But when it does not, I do not pretend to be upset to make a profit.”

“And if the ransom is never paid?” asked Celestia. “What becomes of your ‘guest’ then?” she asked with a hint of accusation.

Ragnarok snorted, affronted at her tone. “Is this an inquisition, Celestia? I will indulge you only so far, and I feel my patience wearing thin...” he snarled, but she was unmoved and continued to glare coldly. “I do not allow Ransoms to be kept longer than one year," he said. "After that, they are returned, though please do not publicise that one too much. Most dragons will secretly return their Ransoms long before, if they believe there is no profit. They risk punishment if their guest falls ill or comes to accidental harm. As I say, no dragon wants to keep a Ransom around for longer than absolutely necessary. The trick is finding a balance: a sum that will be paid, and quickly. The onus is on the Taker to learn the circumstances of their guest, and decide on a fair price for their return, which I approve. And once it has been paid, the guest is returned. Immediately, unhurt, and healthy.”

Ragnarok left his throne. He brought his belly to the ground, his snout close to Celestia’s, frowned, and hissed slowly through gritted teeth. “Ransom is a tradition thousands of years old. It cannot simply be abolished wholesale. But in my time as King, I have done everything to make it safer, fairer, and less attractive. And for this... you judge me cruel?”

“You tell me you are not a liar, yet you say one thing while doing another,” objected Celestia. “You say there is no point in asking for a ransom that cannot possibly be paid, and that is exactly what you have done!”

“If the griffon’s family do not wish to pay for her return then they have only to wait a year, possibly less depending on how patient Fenrir is. The price they will pay will instead be the time they have lost together. But if that is the case, then perhaps they do not care about her as much as they should. Better she learns that herself.”

“How can you be so heartless? Erica’s parents love her! They came to me distraught, on bended knee begging me to speak to you. They desperately want their daughter back, but the price you have set is far beyond their means!”

“One hundred diamonds? Beyond the means of Griffon royalty? I hardly think so. Tell me you would not pay such a trivial sum to see someone you loved again.”

“They are farmers!” shouted Celestia in exasperation. “And they have lost all hope of seeing their daughter again because of the amount you are expecting from them.”

Ragnarok narrowed his eyes suspiciously. For a long moment he said nothing. Then, at last, “Farmers?”

“Yes!” cried Celestia.

Ragnarok drew himself up, but continued to stare at her with suspicion for several seconds. When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble; a simmering, contained fury. “As it happens, with you here the amount is inconsequential anyway. But at least one of us has been lied to, Celestia. And if I find out that it is me, I will have Fenrir’s head!” he roared.

Ragnarok stood abruptly and marched for the tunnel entrance, striding through it and emerging once more into the desert sun. Outside on the flat, bleached rock of the desert floor, he looked around to see Celestia following him closely, and he spread his wings wide. “Fenrir is a good subject on a rotten run of luck, Celestia, but that is no excuse. If I come to believe for one moment that he has deceived me and put a Ransom at risk just to turn a larger profit, then he will suffer more than he ever thought possible.” He beat his wings and took off, Celestia following him into the sky and together they struck eastwards towards the pillar of rock.

–––

Keeping pace with Ragnarok through the air, Celestia felt uncomfortable. She had hoped that after she had explained why she had come, she might at least be able to gauge whether Ragnarok was likely to allow Erica to go free. And yet, now, she still had no idea how this might play out. But she could at least take some comfort from the fact that, if Ragnarok was to be believed – and she found she did believe him – then Erica was at least unhurt, if not exactly what she would call, ‘safe.’

As for Ragnarok, she couldn’t quite get a handle on him. He seemed to swing wildly, belligerent one minute, and willing to listen to reason the next. She wanted to believe that the dragon she had shared so much with all those years ago was still there, but so far, she didn’t think she had reached him.

And then, even as that thought crossed her mind, he turned to her in flight and locked her gaze. “Tell me, are you any closer? To bringing your sister home?” he asked softly.

Celestia was surprised. She broke eye-contact and looked ahead. “Is now really the appropriate time to speak of this?”

“Unless you wish to fly in silence. Though, at your pace, Mesa is many more uncomfortable minutes away.” There was a long pause. “You said you came to speak to me,” he pointed out. “If that is true, then I would welcome you to speak.”

Celestia sighed. “No... I am no closer. Everything I try seems destined to fail. It could take forever to find a way to reach her, and I am not sure even that would be long enough.”

“Do you have forever?” he asked with a curious look. When he received only a confused expression as a reply he shook his head gently. “Every morning since we last met, I have watched the sunrise, dreading the day when it would fail to grace the horizon. Wondering what would become of the world the first day you were not there. Now, three hundred and twenty-six years later I set eyes on you again... and you have not aged a day.” He glanced at her again. “How long are you going to live, Celestia?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “How long are you going to live?”

He put on a wry grin. “Hmm. Touché.” He looked at her seriously once again. “Then... how long are you going to continue this? Your futile pursuit?”

She looked back in mild shock. “Futile? Would you have me give up? Abandon my own sister?”

He gave her an apologetic look. “I don't say it lightly, or out of disrespect, but... it has been more than half a millenia. And you say you are no closer? How long before you recognise that... perhaps it is simply not possible? How long before you allow yourself to move on?”

“I won’t abandon her. I won’t just forget about her.”

“I am not suggesting you forget her,” said Ragnarok patiently, with far more tact than he had ever shown before. “But while you continue to search without hope, that wound you carry beneath your cloak will never heal. You must allow yourself to grieve, Celestia. You must allow yourself forgiveness, and you cannot do so until you accept that she is gone.”

Celestia frowned resolutely. “She’s not gone. And there is always hope. Even when the task appears impossible. If Luna were in my place... I know she would never stop trying to reach me. I owe her the same.”

Ragnarok looked back to her once again. Except now, there was more than apology in his eyes. There was pity. “You are determined never to forget your sister. I only ask that you not forget yourself.” Ragnarok dipped his wings and began to descend towards the giant rock pillar, closer now, leaving Celestia behind.

The wide, roughly circular pillar thrust upwards from the desert floor, rising over a kilometer into the air. The walls were of red rock and into the vertical surfaces, on every aspect, were excavated hundreds upon hundreds of huge, semi-natural caves. Even as she observed, she saw one or two dragons leaving through different openings, and taking wing.

Celestia angled her wings and followed Ragnarok’s path through the air, catching him as they descended towards one particular, unremarkable cave opening about half-way up the western-most face of the pillar.

“This is Mesa. You may think of it as a city, if you wish. Each cave is a different lair. That one there is Fenrir’s,” said Ragnarok, Celestia following him down. They alighted on the lip of the cave and ducked inside.

The cave walls were the same red sandstone as the walls of the pillar, and cave itself did not seem to end. Instead, beyond the large, bulbous entrance it twisted and turned as though a tunnel, and Celestia was given the impression that it extended deep into the pillar, possibly connecting to other chambers or lairs in the manner of an anthill or termite mound. Of Erica there was no sign, but a short distance inside the entrance, Captain Valiant and her crewmate were waiting standoffishly with Vanir and another dragon. Fenrir, she assumed. His scales were of a yellow-green colour, but about him there was little else that was remarkable. Celestia saw Ragnarok fix him with a hard stare as he approached, and he looked a confused shade of nervous under it.

“Vanir? I am done with you for the day. Leave us. I have questions for Fenrir,” said Ragnarok ominously.

Vanir immediately bowed and headed for the cave entrance, spreading his wings and leaping into the air without further ceremony. Ragnarok continued to fix Fenrir’s gaze.

“M–my Lord? You wish to inspect my Ransom?” asked Fenrir, cringing under Ragnarok’s stare now.

Ragnarok nodded slowly. “You will note, Fenrir, that I have not come alone,” he said. “Princess Celestia of Equestria is here as my guest. I will warn you now, not to make the mistake of showing her any less respect than you would show me. And she has brought me some very disturbing news about which I must question you.”

“Yes, my Lord?” said Fenrir. His confusion only rose.

“When you first took your ransom, you informed me that she was royalty. A griffon princess if I recall correctly. It is for that reason I approved your price. Tell me, Fenrir... how did you learn of her status?” Ragnarok’s eyes could have burned a hole in Fenrir from the look he was giving him.

“I... asked her, your majesty. She told me.”

“And what, exactly, did she tell you?” Ragnarok’s voice held an unsubtle accusatory edge.

“My Lord, her exact words were, ‘I’m a very important Princess, so you’d better let me go right now, or else my father will come after you with a whole army.’”

Ragnarok blinked.

In fact he was stunned into silence for what was probably the first time ever. He looked quickly at Celestia, though she remained composed enough not to betray to him any emotion, and then back to Fenrir. Then, finally, he buried his head in his foreclaws for several seconds.

When he finally looked back up, there wasn’t even any anger. There wasn’t any point! “Fenrir?” he said carefully. “You are an idiot. And you are extremely lucky that I believe you are an idiot.”

“My Lord?”

“She is a farmer’s daughter, Fenrir...” Ragnarok rumbled.

“My Lord... she said–!”

“Shut up, Fenrir. Just shut up,” said Ragnarok, still bewildered. “Where is she?”

“She is through there, my Lord,” said Fenrir, motioning to the rear of the cave where the tunnel forked, twisting and turning out of sight in both left and right directions. “My Lord, I promise I thought the price was fair!”

“Get out, Fenrir. Just... go somewhere else. I do not wish to see you. In fact, I am probably going to be screaming your name at the walls very shortly.”

Fenrir, still looking utterly confused, not to mention perturbed at being thrown out of his own cave, nevertheless apparently decided arguing was not in his best interests. He bowed twice, once to Ragnarok and once to Celestia, and then headed for the cave entrance and took wing.

When Celestia looked back, Ragnarok was gazing at a neutral spot on the floor of the cave.

“This has left me in a very awkward position,” he said, though it sounded like he was speaking half to himself. Then, he looked at her. “I would dearly love to banish Fenrir to a barren, coal-filled wasteland for eternity and a day. But unfortunately, catastrophic idiocy is not a crime. No,” he growled, “Fenrir has abided by the rules. The fault lies with me, for blindly approving his price without investigating it. And since this ransom would be paid but can’t, then not only have I lost my share, but now I am going to have to compensate him his asking price out of my own horde. This upsets me a great deal.” Then, after a pause, he broke into one of his familiar, wicked, toothy grins. “But it also means that the burden of this ransom is now mine. And I am free to exact my compensation from you...”

Celestia felt herself startle at that, but her composure remained intact. She planted her hooves and subconsciously lowered her horn a tad. “I will agree to nothing until I see she is safe, Ragnarok.”

“Of course,” he said with a smirk. He raised a foreclaw and pointed towards the tunnel at the rear of the cave, and motioned her to go ahead.

Celestia followed the line of his outstretched claw, walking towards what was, to her, the right-hand fork in a huge, red sandstone cavern. She rounded the corner, keeping the cave wall on her right, and found that this passageway was really akin to a huge alcove rather than an extension of the tunnel. And nestled against the far wall of the alcove, near where cave wall seamlessly joined cave floor, she saw her.

She appeared to be asleep, though restlessly so. Erica had her father’s grey feathers and fur, but her mother’s speckles. She found it difficult to judge ages with griffons, but she seemed adolescent; certainly closer to adult than child. Celestia felt her teeth clench when she saw the shackle. A band of grey iron clasped loosely but securely around one of her hindlegs, affixed to the cave wall by a lengthy chain. But within easy reach of her was a large trough filled with water, and another filled with grain and oats, and from a quick, cursory exam, she did appear uninjured.

She approached her.

“Erica?” she said softly, offering her a gentle nuzzle to rouse her. “Erica? Wake up.”

The griffon, lying on her back on the floor beneath her groaned, frowned, and then finally opened her eyes.

“Mmnh,” she said. Then her eyes focussed. “Wha...? Who’re you?” she asked nervously.

Celestia smiled reassuringly. “My name is Celestia. Are you alright?”

“Ungh, yeah, I’m okay. Bit of a headache from all the heat. Really nice to see a friendly face though.” Erica slowly raised herself and sat, and looked up. Then she seemed to register the crown, the amulet, the golden horseshoes, and recognition appeared to click. “Whoa. Princess Celestia? As in, from Canterlot? What are you doing here? The dragons didn’t get you too, did they?”

“You don’t need to call me Princess,” said Celestia with a kind smile. “I came to find you. Your parents are in Canterlot. They’re worried about you. I’m glad to see you’re not hurt.”

Erica’s face brightened at the mention of her parents, then fell once more. “I’m really sorry. If I hadn’t got caught, then you wouldn’t have got dragged into this too. Still, at least your ransom’ll probably get paid.” She sighed heavily. “Word of advice? Don’t tell them you’re a princess if you’re really not, cuz... that’s what I did.” Erica looked up at her now, tears slowly beginning to form. “I really messed up, Princess. The dragons think my mom and dad are rich enough to pay to get me back. Now they think I’m lying when I tell them they’re not and... and... I’m gonna be stuck here forever.”

There was only pity, and on instinct Celestia reached out for Erica and drew her into a warm, comforting hug. And as Erica gratefully received it and hugged back, the shackle around her hindleg shifted, clinking softly against the chain. It was enough.

Celestia’s gaze once more found the foul restraint and she felt her anger rising afresh. It didn’t matter what Ragnarok wanted. It didn’t matter about his price. She wouldn’t leave Erica here. Not now that she was with her. Not now that she had hope. She couldn’t abandon her. In a flash of bitter pique she lit her horn, channelling obscene amounts of magical energy directly into the ironwork and a moment later, the shackle and half of the chain it was attached to simply disintegrated, reduced to particles no larger than grains of sand and cast outwards as though on the shockwave of a small explosion.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered soothingly. “You’re going to be okay.”

But Erica apparently didn’t think so. She looked down, horrified, at the remains of the chain that no longer tethered her to the cave wall. “What... what did you do?” She stared wide-eyed at Celestia. “Oh no, the dragons are gonna be so mad!”

“Indeed?” came Ragnarok’s deep voice from the cave proper. “Well that would be nothing out of the ordinary.” Celestia turned to see him approaching, lumbering round the corner towards the alcove.

On instinct, she stepped protectively in front of Erica, but it was Erica who shouted up. “No, please! It was an accident. Don’t hurt her!”

Ragnarok simply grinned toothily back at Erica. “Hurt her? Believe me, the thought has never once crossed my mind.” He turned to her. “You will forgive the intrusion, Celestia, but the sound does tend to carry, and you are rather dragging this out.”

Celestia was about to reply coldly when a gasp from Erica drew her attention there instead. She looked back around to see Erica recoiling away, her face suddenly a contorted mask of fright and betrayal that was just heart-wrenching to see. “Princess? You... you’re with them? You’re with the dragons?” she asked.

“I assure you that she is not,” said Ragnarok quickly. “And I will simply tell you that which she seems to be dancing around.” He looked at Erica and lowered his tone to something softer and smoother. “Princess Celestia is here to take you home,” he said.

Erica looked between Ragnarok and Celestia, fright slowly giving way to cautious hope. “You... are you paying my ransom?”

“Personally,” said Ragnarok, “I would prefer you think of this as a rescue. Princess Celestia has battled her way to the heart of the cruel dragon’s lair to save you. Do not trouble yourself with what she has had to sacrifice to do so. Now, if you wish to be saved, there are two ponies with a chariot around the corner, near the entrance. Go and wait with them. Celestia and I have a final piece of unfinished business.”

“So, you’re letting me go? Just like that? Wait... sacrifice?” said Erica in sudden, horrible understanding. She looked to Ragnarok and then, in terror, to Celestia. “He’s not keeping you instead is he?”

It was Ragnarok’s turn to be surprised. Then he composed his features into a thoughtful smirk. “Now there’s a thought...” he said stroking his chin. After a moment, realising that his humour had once again fallen on deaf ears, he put on a serious expression and looked at Erica again. “A poor turn of phrase on my part. Rest assured that Celestia will be leaving with you. In fact, if you wouldn’t mind, please would you inform her guards outside that I have still not eaten her?” he finished.

Erica looked once more to Celestia, and Celestia spoke softly to her. “It’s alright, Erica. I will be okay. Go and find Valiant Song. She’ll take care of you.”

Erica was still a little hesitant, and she moved cautiously past Ragnarok into the main passage in the cave, heading left towards the entrance. Just as she reached the limit of vision she looked back, and she gave Celestia a look of pure gratitude before finally passing out of sight.

Celestia was silent for a few moments. She looked at the floor and felt Ragnarok’s quiet stare on her. Finally, she looked up at him. “You’ll let me take her home, then? You’ll let me leave with her?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Ragnarok’s face softened, and he lay down on his belly, fixing her gaze with serious eyes. “Do you really believe I would let you leave without her?”

When Celestia didn’t reply, he sighed heavily. “‘Cruel,’” he said. “I could be called that by any of my subjects, and I would think it a tremendous compliment. I hear it from your lips, and it cuts me deeper than any wound I’ve ever suffered. To know that you think me cruel.”

There was a short pause. Then he blinked, and when Ragnarok spoke again his voice had returned to a low growl. “Perhaps you should. This is still a ransom, Celestia, and there is still a price.”

“Yes,” said Celestia with a sigh. She had been expecting it, but the sting in the tail was still potent. “One hundred diamonds.”

“Oh, Celestia. No no no. This is my ransom now. Were you not listening earlier? The price of the ransom is determined by what the other party is able to afford. And you can afford a great deal more. I do not want diamonds. I do not even want wealth. From you, I want something far more valuable.”

“Just tell me, Ragnarok!” snapped Celestia impatiently.

There was another, brief pause. “A debt,” he said. “A favour, if you like. From the Princess of Equestria herself, to me. To be called upon whenever and for whatever reason I so choose.”

“What... what kind of favour?”

“Whatever I want. The exact nature for me to decide, and at my leisure,” he said. He narrowed his eyes. “How much value do you place on a life, Celestia, for that is what I have given you today. I suspect it is quite a lot. In fact, I suspect you would say it cannot be measured. Let’s just say that when I come for it, I intend to demand something of equal worth.”

Ragnarok drew himself back up to his full height. “You do not have to agree, but if you refuse then I will let you be the one to tell young Erica that she will be staying here after all, and why. I will even let you put the shackle back on,” he said, though his grin was gone now and there was no trace of humour anymore. “I see this choice makes you uncomfortable, but this is what happens when Princess Celestia, the most powerful ruler in the known world storms into another country uninvited; into an affair in which she has no interest, and begins throwing her weight around! You come to me asking me to release a prisoner and go against thousands of years of tradition and my own subjects’ needs... do you really expect me to be able to say ‘no’ to you?”

“Ragnarok... I would not have you believe that I intended to threaten you, even implicitly. Please... I came to you in peace. I came to speak to you.”

Ragnarok shook his head slowly with a sad, disappointed expression. “Oh, Celestia. You don’t understand do you? I am not afraid of you. I am not threatened by you. I have bent over backwards for you, and everything I have done I have done because I–!” He cut himself off and growled. “Nevermind. Perhaps one day you will work it out yourself.” He fixed her with a deep, angry frown. “I’ve done everything in my power to accommodate you, Celestia, and I have given you what you wanted. And when I ask you for something as simple as a favour in return, you hesitate. Because you do not trust me. Because I am, ‘cruel.’

“Go. Take Erica and agree to my terms, and perhaps one day you will learn just how cruel I am... or refuse and abandon her here. I will demand a pittance as ransom from her family instead and she will likely be home within a month. And you will be safe in the knowledge that I will never trouble you again.” He thrust his forearm towards the cave passage, directing her to go.

Celestia, with the dreading sense that she had finally worn out her welcome, walked back towards the passageway, heading left, leaving Ragnarok to follow slowly behind. He loitered at the junction of the alcove and the passageway, as Celestia returned to her chariot to see Erica talking to Valiant Song.

“Princess! Oh, sorry, I mean Celestia,” said Erica happily, “Oh man, I’m glad you’re okay. We can leave now, right? We’re all getting out of here?” she asked nervously. “You’re taking me home, like the dragon said?”

Her golden eyes were so bright. So lively and full of hope.

Celestia took a breath and steeled herself.

“No,” she said with a kind, warm smile. “I am taking you to Canterlot. Your mother and father are there, and they will be pleased to see you’re safe.” She motioned Erica towards the chariot and she took a seat. Before Celestia could climb aboard though, Valiant Song fixed her with a steely stare.

“Princess? When we get back, we’re going to have a talk about what is and what is not acceptable protection policy inside enemy territory.”

Celestia nodded. Captain Valiant’s tone might have been brusque, but it was only because she cared. She noted that Valiant was looking past her now, deeper into the cave.

Celestia looked around. There was Ragnarok, still deeper inside, standing, looking at her with a stare like cold flint. But his expression was neutral and she could not read it at all.

“The point is well taken, Captain Valiant,” said Celestia, not for a moment breaking Ragnarok’s gaze. “But this is not enemy territory.” She didn’t even blink. “We are not enemies.”

She looked away and climbed aboard the chariot. Then, without hesitation, Valiant and her compatriot wheeled, turned, flapped and galloped for the cave entrance, taking flight and soaring into the desert sky, heading north for Equestria, and Canterlot.

Erica’s face was a picture of surprised relief and sheer happiness. But, while she masked it impeccably, Celestia felt anxious. She had made the right decision, but what had she just agreed to?

One day you will learn just how cruel I am...

To Give a Life

“Close it, Aesir,” said Ragnarok, his head bowed solemnly.

His lair was silent, the other dragons all maintaining respectful poise as Aesir stepped forward and pushed the lid of the chest closed. The latch clicked hollowly as it shut, and with an air of finality that was most unwelcome. Aesir backed away once more to join the other dragons, leaving the tiny wooden chest sitting midway between themselves and Ragnarok’s throne.

Ragnarok looked up. “And there is no-one else?”

“She was the last of her blood, my Lord,” said Baldur.

“My Lord,” said Aesir with a hint of hesitation. “You know we would never give up. But... we have tried everything... literally everything, we can think of. Quite frankly... we are out of ideas.”

“It cannot be done. It is futile,” Valkyrie scoffed.

“Watch your tone, Valkyrie!” snapped Ragnarok. “You would not be here if your father had given up! You should know this better than most!”

“I do!” retorted Valkyrie indignantly. “It is not that I do not care, Ragnarok! But at the risk of stating the obvious, if there is nothing else we can do, then there is nothing we can do! Aesir is correct. Everything that has ever worked, and everything that has never worked, has been tried.” He looked frustratedly at the chest. “There is no solution.”

Ragnarok turned his own gaze to the chest, and the enigma within.

He refused to believe that. Even when the challenge appeared impossible, one should never give up. There was always hope.

Where had he heard that before...?

He looked up at the four dragons arrayed before him. “Leave it here with me and go. This is no longer your responsibility. I make it mine.”

The four dragons – Aesir, Baldur, Valkyrie and Fenrir, all bowed respectfully and headed for the passageway out of the lair.

Ragnarok left his throne and carefully picked up the chest – so small in the palm of his huge claw – and carefully closed his hand around it.

There was one thing at least, that had not yet been tried.

–––

The castle grounds were beautiful in the early evening, but Celestia didn't have much time to appreciate them as she was shepherded speedily through them by Kibitz. He propelled her with all speed to her final appointment of the day which, she was assured, was absolutely more important than every other appointment that day, and they had to hurry because they were only running sixty seconds early.

Celestia smiled as she half-trotted along, almost caught in his wake. He reminded her so much of Tick Tock, another assistant she had once had. He too had a meticulous eye for scheduling, except that Kibitz always seemed to be in a stress whenever things didn't go exactly to plan.

Luckily, she had worked out how to handle him. All she needed to do was stay just one step ahead – any more and he felt unappreciated. Any less and he felt she was not taking things seriously. Although with Kibitz, being one step ahead rarely left her with more than thirty seconds to work with.

They sauntered briskly through the castle gardens, passing the entrance to the hedge-maze and heading back towards the castle itself, the wonderful scent of hundreds of flowers carried to them on the warm breeze. As their path took them beneath the golden apple tree, they were halted by the arrival of three ponies.

All three were unicorns. The first was grey-coated and bore the familiar, ubiquitous armour of the Royal Guard. The second was white-coated, with a blue mane and a fresh face, and also wore armour though his attire marked him as a cadet. The third was also white-coated but bore no vestments. He had a dark grey mane with a moustache, and his cutie-mark appeared to be three ovoid, stitched sport-balls.

They approached her and Celestia stopped beneath the apple tree to recognise them, much to Kibitz’s clear consternation.

“Princess? Please forgive the interruption,” said the guard, pulling up and giving a smooth salute. His younger companion did the same, though he fluffed it noticeably, his hoof snapping to his head in a jerky motion and hitting his helmet, causing it to skew badly, almost covering one eye.

Oh, that brought back memories. Celestia felt a sudden wave of nostalgia. Another pony had done something almost identical, so long ago.

The guard looked reproachfully at his young protegé, then back to Celestia. “Apologies, Princess. This is literally his second day. Good, stout colt here, your highness. A little rough around the edges, but we’ll whip him into shape.”

“That’s quite alright, Private.” She turned to the young trainee. “What’s your name?”

“Cadet Shining Armor, Princess,” he said, with an enthusiastic, if nervous smile, as he hastily readjusted his helmet...

“Don’t worry about it, cadet. I imagine you didn’t think you’d be meeting the Princess on your second day,” she said with her own, reassuring smile. Then she addressed all three members of the party, though directed most of her focus toward the third member of the group. “How can I help you?”

The Private turned to the moustachio’d pony. “Tell the Princess exactly what you told us,” he said.

The final member of the group dipped his head in a quick bow. “Name’s Flanks, your majesty. Hondo Flanks. I’m from a little town not far away called Ponyville? Not sure if you’ve heard of it?”

“I know it,” said Celestia. She had practically caused the town to happen, not all that long ago actually, in the grand scheme.

“Quaint village, nice folks... good apples too. Me and the wife came there to settle down. Start a family. Got our second foal on the way–” he cut himself off at a quick stare from the senior Guard-pony. “Sorry, Princess. Anyway, I’m out fishing by myself today when all of a sudden there’s this huge dragon just dropping out of the sky on me, right into the lake dontcha-know?”

“A dragon?” interrupted Celestia.

“Boy yes,” said Hondo. “Big bronze one. Anyway, he points to Canterlot up on the mountain here and asks if that’s where you live. I say yes, and he says to me he says... sorry Princess, he told me I had to say it exactly right, y’see... he says, ‘Go and tell Celestia I have come to collect my debt.’ Then he was flying off into the Everfree. Said you’d know where to meet him. Which is good, because he actually didn’t tell me, y’see.”

Beneath her regal calm, Celestia’s blood ran cold. But so practised was she with her composure, that she let not even a hint of it escape.

So. Today was the day.

“Thank you, Mr. Flanks. Private? Cadet? Please see our guest is returned to the station in time for the last train home?”

“Of course your highness.” Then they were turning and trotting off through the gardens.

Kibitz, who had been subtly expressing his impatience throughout the conversation, looked at Celestia with an expression that could only read, If you’re quite finished?

Celestia dipped her head and sighed. “Kibitz? You will have to cancel my final engagement of the evening, I am afraid.”

“Princess, that’s quite impossible! It is only the most–”

“Kibitz... I am sorry,” said Celestia sadly, giving him a serious look. “I am being called out of Canterlot on urgent business and... well... and I may not be coming back,” she said, holding his gaze.

There was a short pause. “You mean tonight, Princess?”

“No. I mean ever.”

–––

It had been easy enough to find from the air. The ruined castle at the centre of a forest, that Celestia had told him of all those years ago. He had never forgotten the story.

He lay on his belly just outside the castle ruins, not far from a deep ravine across from which an ancient rope-bridge now hung uselessly from the far cliff. The chest he placed before him carefully.

He waited. And while he waited, in the absence of anything better to do, he sang. A faint, haunting melody that spoke of loss, of hope, of salvation, and of love. His voice carried on the evening air as the light slowly faded, the sun slowly set, and the moon slowly rose into the sky. And a few minutes later, she arrived.

Celestia descended elegantly, her broad wings catching the air with finesse and poise, and she alighted gently upon the earth. She approached him with a faint, sad smile and at last she spoke.

“You have quite a wonderful singing voice. I would not have guessed it.”

“I seldom get to make use of it. I spend far too much time using my voice to shout at my subjects. I swear, they become more incompetent with each passing decade. Or perhaps I am simply becoming more bitter in my old age.”

She hadn’t noticed it at first, for the light had faded by the time she arrived. But as she looked closer she could see the signs of age upon him. He was by no means decrepit, and he still seemed strong and healthy, but he certainly could no longer be described as youthful.

Ragnarok spoke again, his voice becoming serious and professional. “Princess Celestia. Many years ago, I gave a life to you. The time has now come for me to collect on that debt. I am here because I want payment in kind.”

Celestia continued to hold his gaze, but couldn’t stop herself from flinching slightly. So, this was it then. This was what he wanted. What he meant when he had said she would see how cruel he was, all that time ago. “You demand I give you a life in return?” she said. It wasn’t really a question.

“Yes.”

Celestia at last broke his gaze and looked at the ground. “I understand,” she said quietly, steeling herself. There was after all, only one life that she had any right to offer him. “Will you allow me to prepare?” she asked. “I have not managed to put everything in place that I wanted to before I left this evening. I fear for the future of Canterlot if I do not return, at least for one more day. Please, do not let my subjects suffer.”

Ragnarok raised an eyebrow. What was she... Oh! She actually thought he was asking...! Oh, how wonderful! Ponies: such fun! “No, Celestia. You have had centuries to prepare already. I will collect my debt tonight. Now.”

Celestia nodded. “Very well,” she whispered. She looked up at him, plaintively. “Please? You will make it quick?”

“You will feel nothing. I promise you,” he said with a wicked grin.

Celestia nodded and bowed her head, closing her eyes. As she did so, a tear escaped. She had always known it might come to this.

There was the faintest of snaps. And a long wait. And the end did not come.

In fact it smelled faintly of flowers.

“Open your eyes, Celestia.”

She opened her eyes and looked up to find, directly in front of her muzzle, a single white rose plucked from a nearby bush and held improbably by Ragnarok’s huge claw. As she took it in her aura – still surprised – he broke into a wide, smug smirk. “Still unable to grasp this, ‘joke’ concept, I see. Please, Celestia, do you really believe I have come all this way to hurt you? I enjoy talking to you far too much to want that.”

Celestia finally looked from the rose to Ragnarok. “Then... why are you here?”

“I told you. To call in my favour; to collect my debt.”

Celestia made no reply save for a look of confusion. She looked at the rose, and then absently tucked it into her mane behind her ear, still quite perplexed.

Sensing he would get no further prompt, Ragnarok took a deep breath.

“How much do you know of dragon reproduction?” he asked.

Celestia blinked in surprise. “Very little,” she said. “The few times we have spoken are almost the only times ponies have had contact with dragons. It’s not a subject that has ever come up in our previous conversations,” she pointed out.

Ragnarok nodded slowly. “There is little mystery to it,” he explained. “The mechanics are by no means unusual. When a male and a female dragon come together, the female will bear an egg and birth it. It is... what comes after that is the problem.”

He sighed heavily. “We are magical creatures, Celestia. Did I ever tell you?” By way of demonstration he opened his mouth slightly and produced a lick of crimson flame, far deeper in colour than natural fire. “There was a time, long, long ago, when our most practised magic wielders could have rivalled yours for mastery of the arcane. But, thanks to lethargy and stagnation, it is a skill we have all but lost. Today, even our most powerful Warlocks can conjure nothing more substantial than a stiff breeze. It is pathetic, really. Unfortunately, whatever power runs this world, whether nature, evolution, or perhaps the same god that sees fit to entrust the sun and moon to a creature of flesh and blood and emotion – for I hope that is what you still are, Celestia – remembers this, and so Fate sees fit to play upon us a cruel joke.

“The vestigial magic in us permeates our eggs, and brings with it a bitter trait. An egg will never hatch unless and until certain... ‘conditions’, for want of a better word... are met. They may be simple or complicated, few or numerous... but they are always random. Neither their nature, nor the number of them can be predicted. It was easier long ago, when our command of magic was more fluent, but hatching an egg has ever been a case of trial-and-error, and a great deal of luck.

“Over the centuries, we developed techniques. We learned that many of the conditions, while not identical, were similar, and could be met with similar scenarios. By changing the temperature until it was right, for example, or taking the egg to a specific location within sight of both a mountain and an ocean; or doing both at once. An entire science has built up around hatching eggs, and with enough perseverance and enough time, the shell will eventually crack. But therein lies the rub. Time.

“It cannot be forced, and finding the right conditions can take years. Decades. Centuries. A lucky family can hatch an egg within months. Most will find a way to hatch within ten years. But some...” he looked at her now, clear sadness in his eyes and his voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I have seen dragons so happy to birth an egg, only to spend their whole lives in anguish... consumed by their quest to hatch it; to want it so badly, only for it not to be. For a dragon to succumb to age having failed to bring their child into the world, never having seen the face of their offspring... it is terrible.

“But we never give up on an egg, Celestia. If a parent dies, their family and friends continue trying until the egg is hatched, and thus the line carries on. I never knew my own father. I was raised by Valhalla, the king before me. It has ever been thus. And it is for this reason I come to you now...”

Ragnarok carefully, delicately unlatched the clasp of the small wooden chest before him, raised the lid, and there it was, nestled securely against deep, padded walls of red silk.

A dragon egg.

About twice the size of a goose egg, with a pale purple shell and darker purple spots, it also held a faint green fleck, unnoticeable unless you looked very closely. It looked almost comically small next to Ragnarok’s massive frame. So delicate. So tiny. Celestia approached it, examined it, and finally looked up at Ragnarok, her mouth open in awe.

“This is the life I would have you give me, Celestia,” he said.

Celestia’s voice was a surprised whisper. “You... wish me to hatch an egg for you?”

Ragnarok nodded solemnly. “Embla was so determined. She lived longer than most – she was almost as old as me, and I am convinced that it was her drive to see her son into the world that kept her going for as long as she did. But she was lost to time yesterday, and she was the last of her three siblings. There are no others of her family left to take up the egg.

“I will not say how old the egg is. Only that it is the longest egg that has never hatched, and that we have tried everything of which we are capable.” He looked at Celestia seriously. “Believe me, that is a lot. But there is life here, Celestia. It can be done. Fate would not be so cruel as to condemn an unborn child, but our knowledge and ability is exhausted. You... are the only one I know that might still be capable of bringing this dragon into the world. And the only one I trust to do so.”

Celestia nodded gravely. She lit her horn and gently enveloped the egg in her magical aura, lifting it, turning it. So delicate. She returned it to the chest and slowly closed the lid. She looked up at him. “Suppose it hatches? You would have me return it to you?”

Ragnarok gave a nasal chuckle. “It may take you a long time, Celestia. I may not be around myself when the shell finally cracks, and there are none of Embla’s family left who can care for him. No, when I asked you for a life, I meant a whole life. I would see you...” He cut himself off, then began again, his tone sincere. “That is, I would ask... that you raise him among your people. Show him what it is like to trust and care for others. Teach him what it means to be kind and generous, not greedy and selfish, and perhaps one day... when he is old enough...” He trailed off again. Then he snorted. “Pah! A foolish, romantic notion perhaps.” He once more looked sincerely into her eyes. “This is the favour I ask of you, Celestia. Will you grant it?”

Celestia once more looked at the chest. “I will,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Then, picking up on the wording in the previous conversation, she once more looked up. “He?” she inquired.

“As opposed to, ‘it’," said Ragnarok dismissively. “The pale shell with dark spots are indicative of a male, most of the time, and... Embla always hoped for a son. I simply want her last wish to come true.”

“Does he have a name?” asked Celestia.

Ragnarok was surprised at that. “She never made mention of it,” he admitted. “The name, I leave to you.” There was an uncertain pause. “Though... please make it something at least dragon-like? Not ‘Sunny Cloud’ or something? I know how you ponies like to name things.”

Celestia chuckled at that, and they found themselves sharing a laugh. It ran its course, eventually ending with a pair of sighs.

“I looked into it,” said Celestia. “In eight hundred years, not one pony has been taken for ransom by your people.”

“Hmm, interesting,” said Ragnarok thoughtfully. “I wonder if there is a reason, or perhaps it is simply luck.”

“I think there is a reason,” said Celestia.

“Perhaps.” Ragnarok smirked. “In truth, your last visit did more to tear down the institution of Ransom than anything I have done. Dragons were suddenly very wary of taking them when they heard that to do so might invoke the fury and wrath of a powerful Equestrian warrior Princess.”

“Fury? Wrath?” said Celestia, shocked. “Ragnarok, I didn’t–!”

“Yes, I know you didn’t,” said Ragnarok, smirk still firmly in place. “But that is the interpretation I, 'encouraged' Vanir and Fenrir put on it, and a useful one it was too. Afterwards, Ransoms became almost once-in-a-decade affairs, and their asking prices were so low as to be comical. And ever since, they have rather gone out of fashion. So once again, I must thank you, Celestia.” Ragnarok dipped his head respectfully, and Celestia nodded back.

Then, he stood and spread his wings, catching Celestia by surprise.

“Are you in a hurry to be away?”

Ragnarok turned to look back at her. “I thought you had many important things to do. I thought you ‘feared for the future of Canterlot’?”

“Truly, that is because I did not believe I would be going back. There is nothing I need to do that cannot wait at least until morning, and I doubt I will find the solution to your egg tonight. If you wish... we can talk.”

Ragnarok folded his wings and lay down, settling on his belly with a smile. “I would enjoy that.”

–––

“What would have happened?”

They lay side by side, together beneath the stars.

“Hmm?”

Ragnarok fixed her with one eye. “Indulge me. Had you met your end tonight... what would happen to the sun?”

Celestia looked to the sky. “Before I was born, a cadre of unicorns were responsible for magically bringing forth day and night. Were I not... ‘available’... the practise would fall to them once more.”

“Before you were born?” He shook his head gently. “Hard to imagine. Harder still to imagine you as anything other than you are now. I recall you telling me you were once a young filly, galavanting around this very castle with your little sister. You must have got into all sorts of trouble.”

“We did,” agreed Celestia with a distant smile. She looked back at the castle, and then up at the sky. The moon was full tonight. She had made it thus, planning to go to her end having seen Luna one last time, if only from a distance. “I am so worried, Ragnarok,” she whispered, gazing at her sister’s shadow on the surface. “The enchantment is not permanent, as I once believed. After one thousand years, the alignment of the stars will release it... and that time has almost come. There are only a few years left.”

“And then your sister will return? Is this not a good thing? What you have been waiting for for so long?”

“She may return,” said Celestia ruefully, “But if she does, it will be as the monster she became, not as the sister I know and love. And I am scared for what I may be required to do... and even more afraid that I will not be able to do it.” She looked up at him, fear and anguish in her eyes. “I would sacrifice the world to protect my little sister,” she half-whispered, then looked at the floor in sorrow.

“And there is no way to change her back? No hope at all?”

“I’ve searched. How I have searched, for nearly a thousand years. And the only way that I have found that may be possible, I cannot use myself.” She let out a long breath. “You were right, when you talked of Fate playing cruel jokes.”

“I see why you have no sense of humour,” said Ragnarok. “You may have to explain the joke though. I’m afraid I don’t, ‘get it.’”

Celestia sighed again, and began.

“In Equestria, there is a proverb,” she said. “‘Friendship is magic.’ It is an old way of describing the light and love that can be brought into the world by the bonds of friendship. But what most don’t remember, is that it also contains a literal truth.

“The Magic of Friendship is a real phenomenon, quite separate from ordinary magic. It is not restricted to any race, and as a force for good, it is incorruptible and immensely powerful,” she said. “It is forged in the bonds of love that exist between only the closest of friends, and, at least in Equestria, it could be harnessed and made manifest by using the six Elements of Harmony.

“When Luna and I first found them, we were able to wield them because of the deep bonds of love and friendship we shared. They responded to us. We became their bearers, and together we used them to spread friendship across Equestria, and protect it from harm. When Luna turned... I was forced to wield all six of the Elements against her. In doing so, we broke our bonds with each other and with the Elements, and they abandoned us both. The Magic of Friendship we shared was gone, and so the Element of Magic itself, disappeared from the world entirely.”

She looked now at the castle ruins behind her, a grim expression on her face. “The rest lie in there now. Inert. I have been back here since, trying to wield them, begging them to take me back so that I could undo the damage I have done. But they will not listen to me.”

“Listen to you? Abandoned you? You speak as if they are alive?” said Ragnarok.

Celestia thought about that for a moment. “The Elements themselves are the fruits of a tree that grows nearby,” she said. “So in a real sense, you can think of them as alive. But no, I am personifying them slightly because it is the easiest way to explain how I feel. When Luna transformed into Nightmare Moon, she broke her bond with the Elements and I became their sole bearer. But the Elements were never supposed to be wielded by one individual, even one as powerful as I. Their purpose is to spread harmony – to have only one bearer would defeat the point. When I used them alone it was only because the Elements allowed me to. Because they knew I wasn’t using them for my own interests, I was using them out of love for Luna; to save my sister and protect her, because it was necessary, and because the only alternative was to hurt her.” She shook her head once more. “But while they understood what I needed to do, they were unhappy that our bond had broken, and at being used against a former bearer, and so they left me... choosing to become lifeless rather than be misused again.”

“And... you believe they are the only answer?”

Celestia nodded sadly. “Their magic sealed Luna in the moon in the first place. It could bring her back, I am certain. And the Magic of Friendship is the only power I know of that might cause Luna to acknowledge the light and love I know is still in her heart. If she can, the monster that has claimed her can be banished and the sister I know and love will return. There is no other way, and believe me... I have looked.”

Ragnarok looked back at the ruins of the castle himself. To be so close... to have the knowledge but not the ability to use these magical trinkets. All Celestia wanted... all she had ever wanted since he had known her... was to see her sister again. It would be a fine thing indeed, he thought, if she were happy. “If you wish...” he said hesitantly, “I could try.” When Celestia did a double-take, he smiled and added, “I promise not to eat them until afterwards.”

Celestia gave a sad little chuckle. “Hmm. I believe you would struggle with Generosity, and probably Laughter too.” She shook her head. “In any event it would not work. The Element of Magic is gone. It will only return when the Elements sense the presence of the Magic of Friendship, and by definition, friendship cannot be created by one individual. And even though I am here too... well, as I say, they no longer respond to me.”

Ragnarok paused. “If not you, then... are there are no others among your kind that can bear them?” he asked. “I find it hard to believe that magical artifacts powered by love and happiness cannot find another home in Equestria, of all places!”

Celestia smiled. “The Elements can be wielded by as few as two, but in an ideal world, to achieve their full potential the six Elements would be wielded by six different ponies, each with strong bonds of friendship and love to the others, and each one an exemplar of a particular Element’s virtue. But... I have searched. For over seven hundred years I have searched, and while there have been many outstanding individual candidates, they were scattered across time or circumstance, never all together, and lacking the bonds of friendship that are so crucial. True friendship cannot be forced, it must be allowed to germinate and bloom on its own. And with the groups of friends I have encountered... there is always something missing. Something I cannot put my hoof on. The ‘spark’, as it were. The Magic of Friendship. And now, time is running out. I have all but given up hope that such a group exists, or if it does, that I will find it.”

“But you have not given up. Tell me that is so.” He looked at her seriously now.

Celestia took another breath and sighed. “Almost,” she said. “There is a school in Canterlot for unicorns gifted with unusual magical ability. There is a young student among them with great potential, that I have recently taken to mentoring.” She smiled. “She is intelligent, with an insatiable curiosity and a desire to learn, and a talent with magic that leads me to believe she could one day wield the Element of Magic. But...” she sighed again. “She seems... disinterested in making friends. She seems to think of other ponies as a burden or a distraction, and she seeks out research and solitude when she could be seeking out fun and happiness. But if I can show her... if she can form bonds of friendship and love with even a few others... she may be the key. But it is a very slim hope.”

“And this student of yours? Does she have a name?” queried Ragnarok.

Celestia nodded. “Sunset Shimmer,” she said. “If everything comes to pass, and Princess Luna returns and the world is saved, then I am even hopeful that one day, ultimately... she could take on responsibility for the heavens... and finally replace me as ruler of Equestria.”

She sighed a final time and dipped her head a little. There had been a lot of explanation there, but... she had never had the chance to actually talk it all through before. To lay it all out in front of someone and have them listen, even if all they did was listen. It didn't take away the problem, nor did it help her solve it, and yet somehow, the simple act of speaking about it made her feel a little better. A little lighter. A little more hopeful.

“I don’t think so,” said Ragnarok, drawing her confused stare. He looked back at her once more, with one eye and a grin. “Replace you? You... are irreplaceable, Celestia. The world would be a much less interesting place without you in it. Please, do not go considering retirement just yet. I, for one, would miss you.” He barked out a short laugh. “After all, I need someone to antagonise! And who better to have as a nemesis than Equestria’s greatest, most powerful hero?”

Celestia smiled, then quirked an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t say I was a hero. And in any case, is that how you see yourself in this tale, Lord Ragnarok? As the villain?”

“What else? This is your story after all, Celestia. I am certainly no hero. And I refuse to be labelled your sidekick!” Another barked laugh.

“I do not believe ‘Comic Relief’ suits you either,” said Celestia with a smile. Then her look softened. “I have, unfortunately, known more than my share of villains. But... well... a villain would have shown no regard for me or my subjects when we first met; a villain would use their position and power only for their own gain, not for the good of their people and certainly not for others; villains show no compassion to the weak and helpless –” she nudged the chest deliberately with a hoof “– and they are never kind. You... are not a villain, Ragnarok.”

“A shame,” he said with a smirk. “I would have liked to have taken a prominent role in your story, but there are very few left for me to fill, it seems. Perhaps, Mysterious Stranger? Wise Mentor?”

“Love Interest?” she said, softly. Celestia held his gaze, her eyes at once sad but hopeful, her lips betraying the faintest of smiles.

Ragnarok paused, stunned. Then his face softened, becoming the most sensitive expression she had ever seen him portray. “You did work it out then,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. He drew a long breath and let it out. “I think not, Celestia,” he said quietly, shaking his head.

“Ragnarok,” she whispered. “In eight hundred years since we met, I have seen you three times. And yet I have talked and shared and cried more with you than with ponies I have seen every day and known for their entire lives. There are things I have said to you that I have never been able to tell anyone else. You have listened to my dreams, my hopes and my fears, and from you I have heard the same. You have helped me far, far more than I think you realise. I... I need you. I need to know there is someone out there I can talk to. Why... why can my story not be our story?” she pleaded.

Ragnarok smiled a lonesome, sad smile. He spoke softly. “Oh, Celestia. Believe me, it is not that I don’t want to say yes. And it is certainly not that I do not care for you. Were I not a King, and of a different species entirely, then perhaps. But... it is not your destiny to find love here. You will one day, I am certain, and it will be with someone who treats you well and shows you the respect you deserve... not a cruel, heartless dragon such as I. No... I wish it were otherwise, but... this story is not a romance... it is a tragedy.” He forced himself to bark out another laugh, though he almost choked on it. “Fate plays one more cruel joke on us it seems. Besides, look at me! I am old enough to be your father.”

“Actually,” said Celestia, straining to keep tears from her eyes, her composure forgotten. “It is more likely that it is the other way around.” She smiled sadly. And he smiled back. The tears came.

He stood, rising to all-fours and giving his wings a stretch and a shake. “I may not know what my role in your story is, Celestia, but I at least hope that it is not over yet,” he said with a sad grin. Then, reaching out with a claw, he expertly plucked the white rose he had earlier given her from her mane. “Observe,” he said. “One piece of magic a few of us still retain.”

He lifted the rose high into the air and breathed onto it a gentle, tender lick of flame. The rose incinerated, producing no ash, only smoke which coiled into a dark grey ball and refused to dissipate or disperse. Cupping his claws around it, he brought the ball down to Celestia’s level. “Take it,” he said.

Celestia lit her horn and conjured a golden aura around the ball of smoke. And at once she could sense that it wasn’t simply a ball of smoke, it was... more somehow. She could sense the shape, the pattern, of something within; she could feel the journey it had made, where it had come from, vague and obscure like the smoke itself, but definitely there. And then, as she concentrated, within her aura, the smoke coiled again. And with a brief flash, astonishingly, the rose reappeared! Completely intact and undamaged.

“An old trick, but a useful one,” said Ragnarok. “We are linked now. If I wish, I can send you anything that will burn, from any distance away, to wherever you happen to be in the world. And if you reverse this spell, you can do the same.” He stared at her. “Please, Celestia, keep in touch. Let me know you are safe once in a while.” He smiled. “There is someone out there you can talk to, Celestia. Remember that.”

And then, with no further ceremony, Ragnarok beat his wings and leapt into the air. Flustering his limbs powerfully, he gained height, the powerful downdraft ruffling Celestia’s mane, forcing her to close her eyes against the sudden wind. When it faded and she looked up again, Ragnarok was wheeling away into the sky, a huge black shape sillhouetted against the stunning, silver moon. He made southwards over the tree-tops, and was gone.

Celestia looked down at the rose once more in her aura, and then focused beyond it to the chest at her hooves.

She opened the chest, carefully placed the rose inside, next to the egg, and closed it again. Then she took it in her magic and spread her own wings. She took one last look round, at the surroundings with which she was well acquainted. An ancient castle she had once proudly called home. But no more.

She took to the air easily, gaining height and heading for Canterlot, with her new precious cargo in tow.

She had seen exactly how cruel Ragnarok could be. And it was not very.

The End of the Beginning

Letters were traded back and forth. Initially every week, then every month, then less frequently. It was a struggle for Ragnarok, trying to compose a message small enough that would not simply envelop Celestia once it appeared at her end, but he did, because she was worth the effort.

Over the following months and years they swapped news and gossip, offering each other comfort and solace from afar. When he received the tear-stained letter describing Sunset Shimmer’s fall from grace and self-imposed exile, it was galling to read. He could only imagine how hard she must have taken it. He considered visiting after that, but then, in almost the next letter he received, Celestia was much more optimistic. She told of a new student she had taken on – Twilight Sparkle, apparently. One who not only possessed a gift with magic, but had even found a way to hatch the egg! Who'd have believed it had seemed to require a direct infusion of magical energy while in the presence of both a rainbow and a sonic boom?

The young dragon was named Spike, and had apparently formed an immediate bond with Celestia’s new student. Celestia had taken him on to raise him initially it seemed, but, while he was still a child, he had matured mentally far more quickly that she expected, and due to their growing friendship Twilight was naturally, without even realising it, beginning to foster him.

Ragnarok had his own news to relate too, though of a slightly more embarrassing nature. It seemed he had... ‘lost’ two of his subjects in quick succession. Freyr and Munin had, independently it appeared, simply packed up their hordes one week and taken north towards Equestria, and not returned.

I do not believe they are a danger, he wrote. They are likely only after fresh caves to dwell in, not to cause grief through malice. Freyr in particular is simply too lazy and inconsiderate to bother. But if either of them cause you any issues with which you cannot deal, inform me.

The letters became fewer and shorter as the months passed. Until one day, out of the blue, he received from her one final missive.

Ragnarok;

I have failed. Twilight Sparkle is everything I could ask for in a student, but she refuses to allow friendship into her heart. And I cannot order her to make friends. There are but three days left until the enchantment is released. If Nightmare Moon does return, I do not know what will happen.

But I am not afraid, nor am I sad. I am happy. I may get to see my sister again, after all this time. Perhaps not as I remember her, and perhaps for the last time, but I would gladly accept that over nothing.

Thank you. For everything you have done.

With love,

Celestia.

On the evening of the third night, Ragnarok left his lair and flew to the top of the dormant volcano. The high peak coupled with the flat desert landscape afforded him an unobstructed view over the north. He watched the full moon rise peacefully into the sky as normal, joining the hundreds of scattered stars, and for a time, all seemed to be well.

Then there was a brief flash and all of a sudden the shadows upon its surface that had been there almost as long as he could remember, simply vanished. They left no trace that they were ever present, and he couldn’t stop a surprised intake of breath. The Mare in the Moon was gone.

He continued to cast his gaze northwards. Hours later, he caught sight of a series of brief, faint flashes lighting the northern sky, but nothing else. And a short time after that, the moon lowered – without the shadows returning – and the sun rose as normal, if late.

Ragnarok hung his head. It was over. He had no idea what had happened, but he could guess. The flashes he had seen were clearly a terrible battle, and fact that the sun had risen suggested only one outcome.

To search and hope and yearn to see one’s sibling again for over a thousand years, and then to have that wish granted only to lose her forever...

He sighed. The story was a tragedy, he reminded himself. But... while 'deserve' might be a foreign concept to his people, if anyone had ever deserved a happy ending, it was her.

He received no further contact from Celestia, and he caught only vague snippets of news coming out of the north. Freyr returned and was given a sound dressing down for single-handedly causing enough air-pollution to smother the country. He caught wind of an attack on Canterlot by an invading army, but even as he began marshalling a platoon to go to Equestria’s aid, word reached him that the attack had been repelled. Then news arrived that on the far side of Equestria, far to the north, an ancient evil empire led by a cruel dictator, and long thought lost, had simply re-appeared from the snow. But again, a mere two days later there seemed to be no concern at all. Equestria seemed to be locked in a constant cycle of, fine one day, and narrowly-averted-disaster the next.

Until the day of the Eclipse.

He had been relaxing in his spacious magma pool within his lair when Valkyrie had blundered in, bringing him news of an extraordinary performance in the heavens.

Leaving his lair, Ragnarok looked to the sky in time to see the darkened disc of the full moon settle perfectly across the face of the sun, where it remained for hours even into the early evening. And then, finally, with no warning at all, there was a short but extremely loud snapping explosion, a blinding flash, and the moon was simply gone.

Valkyrie declared it to be remarkable, but thankfully the danger past. Ragnarok simply frowned at the sun.

What was she playing at...?

Continue to Eclipse