Unfrozen

by Capacitor

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Original Character, Tragedy, Twilight Sparkle
Length: 7041

The Crystal Heart blesses the Crystal Empire with warmth and constant spring. However, during the Equestria Games, the Crystal Ponies grow so exhilerated its warming magic reaches farther out than ever before. And beneath the ice, something awakens.

The Equestria Games are the event of the decade. A reason for great celebration. For the Crystal Ponies, it's the very first time they see the Games, and they even get to host them. They are euphoric.
The happiness and light within them powers the Crystal Heart. As the Heart receives more power, its effects get stronger. In particular, the arctic ice around the Empire is pushed back farther than ever before.
And under that ice, something slumbers, something waits. Now, it is uncovered. Now, it awakens.

Yes, I know this story is about an ancient being awakening from thousands of years of slumber. Yes, I know the tags are Dark and Tragedy.
But do you see the tag that's not there? It's the Adventure tag. So, if you're looking for a story where the fate of the world hangs in balance and dark forces bring about a tragic ending, please move along. This is not the story you are looking for.

Just an idea I had a while ago that wouldn't let me go. Will not update frequently, as I only wrote this on whims.
Character tags may be added as the story progresses.
I'm not quite sure if the categories are quite right. If you have any input on that, just tell me.
If you find any grammatical errors, please point them out so I can exterminate them.

Published 2015-12-12 20:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-12-12 20:00:02 UTC

expergiscens – Waking Up

Bulls-eye! Ice covered the target. The Crystal Ponies cheered. The Equestria Games were in full swing.
Never before had the Empire known such merriment. Another wave of blue light expanded from the Crystal Heart, pushing outwards, spreading warmth and love. It rolled forth, past the city borders, past the farthest outskirts of the Crystal Empire, hitting the arctic climate beyond the boundary of its influence and pushing it back just the teensiest bit, replacing snow with grass, chilling frost with mild and pleasant air and death with life. Of course, over time, the ice would slowly return, but on a day of celebration like this, the power of love and unity was stronger than the arctic cold, and the ice was pushed back farther than ever.
And below the ice, just a few miles from the Empire, laid a dying creature. It had been there for a long time. A few months ago, when Sombra's spell had waned and the Crystal Empire had returned to normal space-time, it had already been lying there. More than a thousand years ago, when a bitter mare had tried to thrust the world into eternal darkness, it had already been dying. When the world had been blighted by the anarchic rule of a mad spirit, it had already been buried under the ice.
But now, with each wave of magic exuded by the Crystal Heart, the ice grew thinner, the burden lighter. Eventually, the tiniest trickle of magic wormed itself through the layers of snow and sunk into the frozen being.
For the first time in millennia, the sleeping conscious teetered away from the brink of death, and the entombed creature awoke.

Panic. It could not move. Darkness. It could not see. Cold. Ice, everywhere around, pressing hard against its chest.
Heart still beating, slow but steady. It could not feel its limbs. It felt hungry, weak. It called for help, but its cry remained unheard, its voice failing in its weakness.
Confusion. What had happened? Why was it buried under frozen water?
It could not remember. The long sleep still clouded its mind. How long had it been asleep?
It began losing its hold on the waking world. The cold, the dark, the hunger – all began to slip away. It drifted back into the darkness.

Some time passed.

It awoke again. Something had happened. It still felt weak, so weak, so hungry. But it also felt its limbs, its arms, its legs. The snow and ice that pressed down on it felt lighter, too. A faint orange glow could darkly be seen through the milky-murky ice. The glow, barely passable for real light, ignited something deep inside its brain, a spark as old as life itself, a spark of hope.
Exerting all of what little strength it had left, it pushed against the prison of ice.
The frosty wall cracked and gave away an idea or two, but no more.
It wriggled, manoeuvred, brought its legs against the cold, hard ground, pushed down into it, pushed upwards with its arms.
With surprising suddenness, the ice broke, shards of it flung outwards. It shot up with them, quickly losing its balance, firstly caught in the motion, secondly blinded by the influx of brightness. It fell over, landed on its back, legs sprawling in the air, staring into the sky it so long had not seen. Purplish streaks of cloud ran through it, painted from one side by the fiery glow of dusk. It was one of the most beautiful things it had ever seen. It wanted to capture the moment, maybe in image, verse or even memory, but found itself to exhausted to do anything but bask in the light.
Eventually, the almost meditative state of primal happiness wore off, and it found the joy of simply being alive replaced with gnawing hunger in its body and the pain of weakness in its limbs.
It got up, calling out for its mount to come and carry it to the city. Once again, no answer came.
Then memory returned, and it was like being caught in the ice again.

There had been catastrophe. Disaster beyond everything imaginable. The cries had echoed through many worlds, even reaching this far outpost. The Enlightened had received order, an order to transfer power to higher up, rare, but not unheard of in times of need.
That would explain the weakness it felt. It was good to sacrifice for the greater cause.
Still, why had it been buried in ice?
Another order had come, it remembered, one of desperate action. To unleash...
Of course! Their mounts had turned on them, it remembered now. The shackles that had bound them to their command had inexplicably failed. They had been driven out of the city. But what then?
Once again, boring hunger interrupted its musings. It was starving, dying, it realized. But how? How long?
It didn't matter right now. Survival came first.

It lowered its gaze from the vastness of the skies, searching left and right for orientation. The lowering sun indicated one direction as west, but the stars were not visible yet, leaving it with no hint towards its position.
But those thoughts were quickly pushed aside when it beheld what lay just a hundred odd steps to its left: grass, green grass. It wasted no time, limping, stumbling, falling, crawling towards the meagre pasture. Food. It was grass, not particularly nourishing, not sating and most definitely unable to sustain it for long, but for the moment, it was food, and would suffice.

It ate from the plants.

It gazed into the appearing stars with wonder. The grass had been small help, but still riddened it of the worst shaking of its limbs. The stars, the stars, they were a reason for concern. It was a riddle without answer. The stars were all wrong. Their movement was odd, their positions even worse. Not one was there it recognised. Where was the wide band of the Red Nebula? Where the Eye of Harmony? The Traveller's Beacon?
There was a moon in the sky, but that, too, was nothing like what it remembered.
As it sat there, shaken, it felt a rhythmic tremor of the soil beneath it. It turned to find a small, glistering quadruped nearing. The young sheep was bouncing along, having probably left its flock in a fit of youthful recklessness and sense for adventure.
When the previously still creature suddenly moved, the lamb stopped, ogling it with big, curious eyes.
It remembered this kind of sheep. They had kept them around the city; as pets, and for their crystalline wool to weave crystalline fabrics from. Adorable little things they were, good-natured and trusting.
Pets. Not food.

One did not eat their pets. It was wrong.

But it would provide more of a meal than all the grass in eye's sight would.

But pets were not food.

It had to find the city. Blades of grass could only keep the hunger at bay for so long.

Pets were not food.

It needed to survive. The lamb's life was of less import than its own.

This was wrong.

This was necessary. It needed the nourishment.

There had to be another way.

There was no other way.

It did what had to be done.

It looked down on the pitiful remains of the sheep. An odd thought struck it. The remains would still serve as nourishment for the plants that grew here. These in turn would then nourish the lamb's brethren. It was like an eternal cycle of living and dying. It shook the thought off. It would not serve as another being's nourishment. Feeling sullied, but strengthened in body and resolve, it turned the direction the sheep had come from.

In the distance, offset by a pale moon that shone behind it, stood a great city of shining spires. The being pushed its glum thoughts aside; it had found the city. More importantly, the city was not empty and desolate as it had feared, but gleaming with life, overflowing even, for great bands of light were streaming from the tip of the highest tower. Joy rose in it at the prospect of its people being still alive, and it called out keenly, striding forward purposefully in intent to swiftly return to its home.

Again, there was no answer. It reasoned that its voice was still too weak to bridge the distance. No matter.
As it came closer, it could make out details of the city's structure. More had been built, it realised. The city obviously had grown since it had last seen it, for the number of houses had increased greatly. It, of course, realised what that meant. Catastrophe had been ended, disaster overcome. As always. That was good. And now, they were flourishing once again. That, too, was good.
Straining its eye, it could see lights from the windows and even a faint twinkle that indicated the Heart of Light in its rightful place below the Citadel. Joy! All was well.

It crossed the city perimeter, calling out again. Still, no answer came. It stopped.
Uneasy, it glanced about. No signs of guards keeping the city safe. No one on the streets. No answer to its calls. Yet there was light behind the windows, life in the city. That made no sense. It hurried forward, past the shimmering houses, quickly reaching one of the six main roads and turning towards the central spire, where the Heart of Light hung glowing. It made no sense. It was impossible. The city was abandoned, yet full of life. There was no one to tend to the Heart, yet it was alight.

Approaching, it passed the last of the smaller buildings and entered the plaza of the Heart. A statue of vaguely familiar motif caught its eye. It was the statue of a dragon hatchling holding up the likeness of a Heart of Light.
A dragon. A gem-eater, a treasure-hoarder. Righteous fury welled up in its chest. Of course, it had been dragons that infested the abandoned city! Those ignorant brutes with their selfish desires would never be able to resist such shining magnificence. Dragons! Undoubtedly, they were feeding off the nearby crystal mines and bathing in the splendour of the Heart of Light.
It glared at the monument, realising why it seemed familiar. It was a mockery of the statues they erected in honour of the Great Engineer, who had forged the first Heart of Light.

It rose a shaking fist. It was still weakened, but such a mockery, such a disgrace, such a lie would not stand! It drove all of its will forward and commanded this heresy of a sculpture to break. With a flash, the crystal ruptured, and nothing remained of the blasphemy but a heap of broken fragments.

There was a small yelp from above.

Surprised, it looked upward, but found only a few furred creatures standing up on one of the balconies, looking down at it. The little things had likely been singing one of their quiet songs, and the destruction of the statue had startled them. In its anger, it must not have noticed them. It turned away. The ponies were of no import. It had to find a way to get rid of the dragons.

But wait!

Why were the ponies still in the city? Before, they had been kept around to carry loads, to shepherd pets, or for their quiet, but beautiful singing voices. But dragons had no need for ponies except for food. Why would they keep them? And what were they doing inside the Citadel?

It called out for them, ordering them to come down. It would question them in the hope of shedding some light on what had happened. One of them rose into the air, followed shortly by the other three. So they were winged ponies. It hoped they would obey, for without its mount, it could not follow them into the sky. If they decided to flee, there would be nothing it could do.
But those worries were unfounded. The ponies quickly descended, swooped down and landed before it. Either they still knew to obey, or they had, over whatever time had passed, grown more curious than frightful.

Those four were tall for ponies, it noticed. They were also horned and winged, which was curious, and suggested that the horned ponies and the winged ponies had cross-bred and become one. All were adorned with some pieces of jewellery and had strange markings on their sides, presumably indicating some sort of hierarchy. Yet something else was odd about the ponies, even if it couldn't see what. Curious, but of no true concern. It turned towards the smallest pony, for this one, bearing the mark of the Enlightened, was obviously the leader and therefore most likely to possess valuable information. It reached out to the pony, but the small equine shied away. The pony's mouth began to move quickly. Hand reaching out, it told the pony to come closer, but this time, the pony didn't react.
So it was curiosity, not obedience, that had driven them towards it. That was unpleasant.

It had no strength to compel them. Its gaze passed over the ponies, who seemed to be taking turns in moving their mouths. It had paid little attention to ponies in the past, and this kind of behaviour struck it as odd. But then it remembered ponies would also move their mouths whilst singing, so perhaps that was how they communicated. An idea struck it, and it began to sing. It had little skill, but there was at least some hope this would allow it to tell the ponies what it asked of them.
Its song was questioning, expressing its confusion, pressing for answers. Soon, the ponies began to sing, too, but instead of singing an answer, they merely joined the song. It stopped singing when it realized that nothing would come out of this. The ponies continued the song for a bit, dancing slowly around it all the while. After that, they fell back to their mouth-debate.

Suddenly, a gust of wind pressed against it, some kind of tremor of the air around it. It turned its head to find the odd vibrations to originate from the blue pony. The other ponies were covering the sides of their heads with their hooves for some reason. Strange. It ignored the ponies and tried calling out for its brethren once more, but to no avail.

The ponies' presence indicated there was no dragon infestation. So it was probably the ponies who now inhabited the city. That still neither explained the dragon statue nor who tended to the Heart. In fact, looking up, it noticed there was still light streaming from the highest spire. It was no Enlightened and knew little of the technicalities of forging or operating a Heart of Light, but it knew that meant the Heart was powered up to the brim.
It was still not at full power. Should the ponies turn hostile, or should there be dragons after all, it would be in no condition to fight. It looked at the Heart. It knew little, but enough. It drove its will towards the Heart, ordering it to divert the energy overflow into it. It worked.

The ponies backed off in surprise when a broad, many-coloured aurora streamed down from the sky and engulfed the creature before them. The power of the Heart of Light sank into it, and its body, drained from the long time under the ice, was slowly restored. It straightened, even grew a bit taller. The lingering numbness in its limbs faded. Its mind calmed. It turned its will unto itself, mending the damage done by the time under the ice. The effect was stupendous. Long-forgotten sensations rolled over it as its higher senses were restored and it could feel the Heart glow, could feel its own heart glow, could feel the ponies, could feel the life pulsing through its body. It was bliss, for a moment. After the healing was done, it severed the cord to the Heart of Light.

It turned back to the ponies. They had called for reinforcements, it seemed. About two dozen pony soldiers, mostly neither horned nor winged, armoured and armed with lances, surrounded it and the four horned and winged ponies. It was not too worried about the prospect of a fight any more, even if it was outnumbered. Its body was strengthened once again, and at a single command towards the Heart, all of the Citadel's defences would be directed against the ponies. It looked around. The ponies were still taking turns at mouth-moving and showed no inclination to attack, but probably would not let it leave, either. However, the next logical step after ensuring its own survival was getting to the Chamber of Voices, where it could try and contact the rest of its people.

It was just pondering whether to simply ignore the ponies and jump into the Citadel, when it felt space and time warp and ripple, and a voice called out with a cheerful greeting.
Relieved, it turned to greet the arriver in turn, but the one who had called was not, as it had hoped, one of its kin, but something different. It was the Enemy, wearing a form slightly taller than it and waving at it and the ponies with one arm.

Anger. The Enemy must be destroyed. But it was alone. It only had one Heart of Light as supplementation, grossly insufficient to take on the Enemy. The only feasible tactic was to stall until more troops arrived.

Dread. No reinforcements were coming. It was alone, no one would aid it against the Enemy.

Resignation. Its assets were insufficient to deal in any way with such a threat. It had no way of even hoping to have a chance. Struggle was pointless. Negotiation was pointless. It was completely at the Enemy's mercy. The only thing left to do was wait for the inevitable end.

It stood motionless as the Enemy laughed and moved closer, asking the ponies where they had found it.
That was odd. Why would the Enemy question the ponies before questioning it? Why ask such a question at all?

There was some mouth-movement from the pony leader. The Enemy seemed to understand.

The Enemy asked it where it had so suddenly come from.

It denied. It would not give any information to the Enemy.

The Enemy laughed again, calling it droll.

The big white pony moved its mouth. Curious affirmation from the Enemy.
This did not make sense. The Enemy had no allies. Why would the ponies and the Enemy interact like this? It had to remind itself that any information coming from the enemy was either false information or poison.

There was more pony mouth movement. The Enemy offered fixing a problem mentioned before, then moved towards it. That would be the end, then. Nothing short of a miracle could save it now. And of course it knew there was no such thing as miracles.
The Enemy raised both arms and touched the sides of its head with a finger each.

There was pain. A sensation a if its head had been split open. A sudden, new, clear, inescapable quality to the air. Unknown sensations flooded its mind, fresh, sharp, strong. Some sort of – thrumming shook it, and terrible, strange vibrations tore through its very being.
It grew a new, a seventh sense, and it was the most painful thing it had ever experienced.
Luckily, the pain did not last long, for soon, the blackness of sleep fell over it again.

de·nominibus·rerum – On the Names of Things

Its head was still pounding when it drifted back onto the surface of the sea of oblivion.
It felt another being close to it; a pony. There also was this queer tingling from its new sense, like an itch, but different. It was lying sideways on a piece of furniture, maybe a bench or a bed.
There was woven fabric below it, soft, but in quality inferior to that created by the Distributors. Pony fabric.

It turned towards the pony. It was the leader from before, purple, horned, winged, bearing the symbol of the Enlightened on the sides, sitting on a cushion near the bed. Its newly awakened higher senses could feel the light of life deep within the pony. Curious. It did not remember ponies being this bright, this vibrant, this alive.
It sat up on the bed.

As it stirred, the pony did, too. The pony's mouth moved, and there was an odd sensation, maybe like something scraping inside its head. Even more strangely, there was a pattern to it, forming words.
"Oh, you're awake! Can you understand me now? Our translation spells didn't seem to work before, but Discord says it might've been a problem with your hearing."

True enough, it found a lattice woven around it that would allow it to grasp meaning from certain patterns perceived by a pair of organs located in the sides of the head. Organs it knew it should not have, yet there they were.
No matter. There were more important things right now. It took the patterns of the lattice and the organ and replicated them with its will, then reversed the duplicate. It wove the new lattice around it and spoke through it, asking whether the pony was allied with the Enemy.
"Are you allied with the Enemy?"
The new lattice produced the odd sensation, and the older one converted the sensation back into meaning, causing some distorted echo of its voice.

The pony blinked. "Excuse me?" There was, somehow, emotion ingrained in the modulation of the words. It could discern, amongst other, less clear ones, confusion and insecurity. The pony did not understand the question. No matter. As it focused, it felt nothing of the Enemy's twisted, distorted wrongness about the pony. Therefore, it was unlikely that the pony was being used by the Enemy to extract information from it. That was good. It would use the opportunity of communication to gain information on its situation.

It quickly reviewed its position.
It had been asleep for an unknown period of time and had no knowledge on what had become of its kin. Bad.
The Enemy was nearby, yet had not moved to attack it. Worrisome.
The close pulse of the Heart of Light indicated it was still within the city, presumably even inside the Citadel. Good.
The city was now populated by ponies, yet the Heart remained powered and functional. Odd.
Apparently, it was currently under the care of said ponies.

It would use the talk with the pony to garner information on the current status of its kin, the time of its sleep and the pony presence within the city. It briefly considered asking further about the Enemy, but it knew that questioning the Enemy was folly and would only ever yield falsehoods or poison.

The pony opened its mouth again. "Uh, I'm not quite sure what you mean by that. I'm not an enemy, if that's what you meant."

Unimportant. It dismissed and asked for the pony's intentions.
"Irrelevant. What do you want from me?"

"I just wanted to talk, and maybe ask a few questions. You really caused a bit of a commotion, and I don't think I've ever seen anything like you. I'm just glad that you can finally understand me."

That indicated there was no more activity of its kin here, and that even if their was, inquiry was pointless. Disappointing, but not surprising.
Still, the pony was willing to communicate. It was not going to pass on that opportunity.
"Affirmative. We will exchange information."

The pony's mouth widened. Checking against its memories of ponies and similar beings suggested this to be body language expressing happiness. "That's great!" the pony said. "What's your name? I'm Twilight Sparkle."

That was a confusing and incredibly nebulous statement. It demanded clarification.
"Is that race, social status, hierarchical position, title or description of obligation?"

"Erm, it's none of those. It's my name." Again, the pony's words were full of confusion.

It had known that diplomacy was strictly speaking outside its area of competency, but it had not expected failure in communication this soon.
"What is described by 'Twilight Sparkle', then? I doubt it's an honorary epithet."

"It's nothing like that. It's simply the name my parents gave me when I was born."

It knew what birth was from one occasion it had aided a petkeeper. The concept of parents as birth-givers was easily inferred, even if the pony had further associations that were lost on it. The act of creating a new name for a newborn pony seemed odd and pointless, however. Even moreso since the fact the name still applied to the pony meant the name had little to do with a specific state.
"Explain the purpose of that name."

"Are you serious?" Anger and annoyance had emerged beside the confusion. The pony opened its mouth and let its head droop slightly. It released a sensation that felt like a drawn-out yelp or a low scream, something infused with exasperation. Then it began talking again. "If I had no name, what would ponies call me? Nameless pony?"

"They would call you pony. Pony is a name, so you are not nameless. 'Twilight Sparkle' is a meaningless, superfluous additional name."
It did not understand why the pony was so upset. Perhaps the pony had a faulty understanding of what a name was.

The pony was silent for a bit, a few times opening its mouth as if to speak up but not doing so. Finally, the pony said "Fair enough. But if everypony just called me pony, I wouldn't know they were talking to me, and they wouldn't know if they were talking about me since 'pony' describes every single individual of an entire species."

Odd. The pony's words implied that pony communication was broadcast undirected instead of happening through bidirectional links between conversants. However, if one considered the ponies had a strange vibration-sense they stimulated to exchange words, it made sense. It concluded ponies were modulating their speech unto pressure waves propagating through the air surrounding them. Odd, awkward, unwieldy and inefficient.
Still, the pony's argument had missed a fundamental point.
"Since every pony was once birthed, every pony has parents. 'Parents' is a term just as indefinite as 'pony'. Yet you used it in this very conversation in a way that linked the name 'parents' to a definite pony by specifying it as 'my parents'. By using clarifying additional specifications, the name 'pony' can link to you or whoever is talked about specifically. Therefore the additional name 'Twilight Sparkle' is superfluous."

"So you're saying my name is unnecessary because who I am can be described without using it," the pony said slowly.

It affirmed. "Yes."

"But if you go by that logic, nearly all words are unnecessary because most of them can be paraphrased."

"Negative. Your name is unnecessary because it can be paraphrased and has no general application. Any being with no previous knowledge of you would receive no information when being told your name. Only entities of general relevance warrant exclusive names."

"Look, we ponies each have a – an exclusive name, as you call it. We call them personal names, because they each belong to a specific person. I guess you could just could just use descriptions for everypony, but it's much simpler to just use their name. Also, circumstances and descriptions can change, but your name is something you hold onto, so it really is a cornerstone of your identity."

It felt uneasy. "So you tell me that if you were removed from your society and placed in a solipsistic vacuum, you would still be able to call yourself Twilight Sparkle?" It did not wait for a reply. It felt the pony's insecurity, but the lack of immediate denial told it it already knew the answer since the pony had already given it. "That is preposterous! That is madness! Any kind of meaning collapses in the solipsistic vacuum. Implying that a personal name does not lose its meaning would be to assume that every person is something fundamental and unique."
It hesitated. "This concept is ideological poison," it added, mostly to assure itself. Now that it had grasped the magnitude of what these 'personal names' meant, it recognised the concept as something vaguely familiar, yet could not place it. Still, this kind of thinking would only be encouraged by the Enemy. Senseless creation of arbitrary pieces of information for the entire purpose of needlessly increasing complexity, leading to idle exchanges of thoughts about nonsense, a waste of time and energy.
It looked at the pony warily. The pony had creases in its forehead that had not been there before. The mess of uncertain emotions it radiated indicated it was thinking about what had been said.

As it observed the pony's shifting moods, it recognized the primary reaction to its words to be fear. It must have been to forceful in its outburst, it reasoned. That was unpleasant. Fear might cause the pony to act irrationally, escape conversation, or even attack. Truly, in the heat of the moment and the mental engagement in conversation on this subject, it had forgotten how easily frightened ponies were still, even if less so now than in the past. But how to respond to this?
Silence reigned for a few more moments. Then the pony spoke up.

"Why– Why do you get so upset about this? I mean, I get your point, but it's just names. Sure, it does somewhat assert that everypony is special and unique, and maybe you don't agree to that, but what harm do personal names really do? If everypony has a name then having a name doesn't make anypony special, so it won't really make a difference."

Relief. Its outburst had not ruined the conversation. It apologised.
"Apologies. You are correct, that outburst was uncalled for. Still, do you know the names of all ponies there are?"

The answer came slow and with hesitation. "No..."

"Then you will agree that you place more value in those you know names of, and less in those that you know not. If you distinguished ponies not by person, but by their circumstance, you would place equal value in all of them."

The pony's face creased and wrinkled. "I'm not sure that's true."

"If a pony approached you and asked for help, would you, in general, more readily agree if you knew that pony's name?"

The pony blinked as it parsed the sentence, let out a breath, then admitted "Yes. I guess I would."

It said nothing, waiting for the pony to conclude. Finally, after some more silence had passed, the pony raised its vibration-voice again.

"Fine, you're right. It's true that the ponies that I know by name are usually more important to me than the ponies I don't know by name. Are you happy now?"
The pony gave it a look, an emotion-loaded glance. It recognised that, but was unsure how to react to this mannerism. Still, before it had reached a decision, the pony began talking again.
"I really can't wrap my head around it though. Having no name or even need for a name just feels so unreal. I mean, when you're all alone it probably doesn't make much of a difference, but you tell me that no one of your species has a personal name. How can you even make society work without names? How can you differentiate between each other?"

"Why would you need to?" it asked. To it, the entire thing had become obvious. These 'personal names' were a tool to create confusion, baseless need for baseless information. To a point, it was fascinating to see how ingrained the belief of the necessity of these names was in the pony; on another note, it felt sorry. There was something about that pony that showed promise, a feeling of familiarity that reminded it of its kin, and it saddened it to see the pony stricken with the malady of confusion.

The pony just looked at it for a few moments, then suddenly convulsed, exhaled violently. For an instant, it thought the pony had a cramp or a seizure, but then realized from the pony's surging emotions that this was laughter. So strange in its physical manifestation, yet so familiar in emotion, and such a delight to witness it cure the pony's confusion, at least for the moment.
"Stop already," the pony said, "it's almost like you're doing that on purpose." It breathed a bit. "We really need more time to discuss that if I—we ever want to understand each other. But for now, I think we better stop before I get a headache."
The pony's mouth curled into something that felt like calm laughter.

"Agreed." In fact, this talk about names had been, while certainly full of insights into the ponies' psychology, quite a substantial tangent. It was necessary to gain more information. Apparently, the ponies knew not about its kin, yet still occupied the city. It would investigate.
"What can you tell me about this building?"

"What, the Crystal Castle?"
Castle? That meant they were in the Citadel indeed. Good.
"Well, the Crystal Castle is the residence of the Crystal Princess and the figurative and literal heart of the Crystal Empire. It is from here that the Crystal Heart shines its light not only over the Empire, but all of Equestria as well!" The pony paused. "Speaking of which, what did you do to the heart back there? I've seen how the crystal ponies power it and how it protects the Empire, but nothing like that."

So the ponies were somehow attending the Heart of Light. It would have to look into that more thoroughly later.
"The bands of light that weave through the sky are rivers of energy that flow from the Heart. I was weakened from being trapped under the ice, so I drank from it to restore myself" it explained.

The pony's head bobbed once up, once down.
"That makes sense. I did notice you getting a bit more–well, shiny. And maybe a bit taller." Another pause. "You say you were trapped under the arctic ice? But why? And for how long? Did you get trapped before or after the Crystal Empire returned? And how did you get free if you were so weakened?"

That last question raised a good point, actually. When it escaped, the ice had been thinner and lighter than before. The solution was simple, really. If the Heart was overflowing with energy this much, the habitable zone it created must have expanded outside the city borders. This was supported by the meadows that surrounded the city and immediately bordered on a frozen waste.
"I do not recall how and when I was entombed in ice, but I suspect it were the Heart's energies that helped me break free. What do you mean when you say the Crystal Empire returned, and what exactly is the Crystal Empire?"
Again, unnecessary names were causing trouble. If the pony had simply described what was meant, it would not have to ask as many further questions.

"The Crystal Empire is the city we are in. You see, about a thousand years ago, an evil unicorn caused the entire Empire to vanish, and it only returned recently. Maybe the Crystal Heart coming back was what thawed you up?"
No, that could not be the case. Whatever this entire story was, it happened after it had been encased. That put the time of its slumber upwards of three Revolutions.
"Aside from that, I don't really know much about the Empire. I mean, I know about the tradition of the Crystal Faire and a few other details, but their history before King Sombra is pretty mysterious. Not even Princess Celestia knows much about it, and she was the one who defeated him back then."

Anger. Names, names! Again!
But it knew, the pony could not help it. It calmed itself.
"Please elaborate."

"Huh? On what?"

"What is 'Sombra' and 'Celestia'?"

"Oh, right." The pony's mouth widened again, but instead of happiness, there was embarrassment. Puzzling in the contradiction of body language and emotion, but showed the pony at least saw the error of its ways.
"King Sombra was the unicorn who took over the Crystal Empire a thousand years ago. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna stepped up to him and banished him, but he cursed the Empire to vanish into thin air. As for the Princess, well, you know who they are, don't you. I mean, you met them before." The last words seemed to hold an almost desperate edge.

So the two princess ponies were both older than a thousand of their years and it had supposedly met them. Curious. Ponies did not usually live that long, and so this pony could not possibly postulate it had already met these princesses. Unless...
"Were the princesses two of the other three horned winged ponies I met alongside you? Does that mean they are a thousand of your years old? I do not recall ponies living quite as long as that."

Disbelief, so much disbelief from the pony. "So you don't know the Princesses? Not even Celestia? But they're alicorns! They've been ruling Equestria for as long as anypony knows! They raise the sun and the moon! How can you possibly not know about them?"

That was interesting. The pony emphasis on the status of being horned and winged and the presence of pony soldiers without horns and wings suggested that the pony species had not merged and the horned winged ponies were both of a higher hierarchical order and of special note.
Secondly, since no horned winged ponies had been around before its slumber, said slumber must have lasted longer than pony memory, which would make finding out the length of its slumber a bit harder.
Thirdly, and most worrisomely, the pony had suggested that these princesses were capable of moving celestial bodies. The sincerity behind the pony's words left no doubt it thought them truth, but it seemed a rather improbable claim. A single pony causing the city's disappearance was not surprising if they could power the Heart, but moving an object more than a quintillion times more massive than themselves was a feat it had believed beyond the capabilities of ponies, let alone a single one.
In fact, the only feat of similar magnitude it knew of was the cataclysm of the eighth colony, when an entire Ark's crew had joined their will to hurl a star down onto the world in order to stop the spread of the dark plague.
"They must have emerged after I was trapped in the ice. I have trouble believing that they can move this world's satellites. May I witness that for myself?"

"Yeah, sure. You'll just have to wait until it's morning, Celestia won't raise the sun before that..." That last word became – smaller? Less intense? – before breaking off. The pony started talking anew. "Did you just tell me you're older than the Princesses? The only one I know who might be older is Discord, and he, well he's..." Again, the pony interrupted its words.
"He's actually the only one who seemed to know what you are. Figures. How old are you anyway?"

"As far as my kind goes, I am quite young. I only number about two hundred of your millennia, not counting whatever time I spent under the ice."

The pony's eye twitched. It spoke, fast, with little intensity, so that its words were hard to distinguish. "Two hundred thousand years... you're two hundred thousand years older than Celestia. I think I need to lay down a bit." The pony did something with its throat that produced an intense sensation of its new vibration sense. "How about this: We both go back to sleep for the rest of the night, and in the morning, you can watch Celestia raise the sun and I'm going to introduce you to my friends. Is that okay?" The pony's mouth widened, it said "Good night, then", then it turned and left.

It looked after the pony, pondering the strange term it had used. Its meaning seemed so contradictory that it knew not how to interpret it. It considered asking the pony what "friends" meant, but the pony appeared to view the conversation as concluded.
Remembering the question but removing it from its immediate attention, it started to plan its next steps.

It still did not know exactly how long it had been trapped in ice, only that it was upwards of three Revolutions.
It had gained no information on its kin and the status of the Enemy.
It had determined that the ponies now powered the Heart and were likely not under the influence of the Enemy.
It was under the care of the ponies and would wait until dawn, when it would be able to see whether it was true that there were two ponies capable of moving objects of stellar size.
The pony it had spoken to had suggested it go to sleep.

It had spent longer that the history of an entire civilisation in slumber, so it was not going to sleep any time soon. Its searching gaze found a pile of coloured cuboids and a few thin sheets of a light organic substance covered in symbols on a small table next to the cushion the pony had been sitting on. It rose and reached for the objects, finding that the cuboids were in fact stacks of the same sheets fused together, and finding that they, too, were covered in symbols.
It concentrated on the writings and slowly began the process of linking the symbols to the grammatical rules and lexemes of pony language, which it extracted from the lattices that allowed it to talk to the ponies.
Not an hour later, it was reading in the books, learning about obscure beasts ponies had encountered and also quite a bit on the magics they had developed.