Stemmen fra Scandineighvia

Tell Tale was sprawled out on the living room's couch, the snow white color of the fabric contrasted nicely with his long chestnut brown mane hanging off the side. He stretched, and turned to his colt, Feather Pen, who was absentmindedly twiddling his silky red mane.  "Do you want to do anything today? My schedule's free." The young brown colt sat beside his father and thought for a moment.

"Well, I've been wondering how you and Dad got together. Would you tell me that story?"

"Hmm, don't see why not," the grey stallion replied, swinging his legs off the couch and onto the hard wood floors. "Just give me a minute to get your father."

The windows adorning the long hall leading to the study were brimming with late afternoon sun, illuminating the hallway, creating a somewhat cozy atmosphere. Approaching the doors dark as obsidian, he knocked sharply three times.

"I'll be with you in a moment!" he heard Cold Print's warm voice call out from the study. After a few minutes of waiting, the door creaked open and a dark blue stallion's head popped out, a smile coming to his face when he saw who it was.

"Oh! Hello Tell Tale, do you need something?"

"Well, Feather Pen asked me to tell him how you and I met," Tell Tale said, brushing a lock of his mane out of his face, "and I thought you'd like to be present for that."

"And Cold Print..." Tell Tale said while rubbing his neck with his hoof, "I require your assistance getting the chest from the cellar." Cold Print laughed softly as he left the study, closing the door behind him as he did so.

"What's so funny?" Tell Tale asked with a raised eyebrow. His husband gave a small smile, shaking his head.

"Nothing really, it's just rather cute how you seem a tad embarrassed to ask me for help. Why were you so reluctant?" Tell Tale let out a sigh.

"I guess it's just because how when I was a foal, the main mentality of myself and my peers was, "Help is for the weak!" Unfortunately, that hasn't left me quite yet, it seems." His husband gave an understanding nod.

"Well, better get that strongbox then. It's going to get dark within an hour or less." He said as he made his way outside, the dimming rays of Celestia's sunlight pouring into the house.

"Feather Pen, we'll be right back, we need to get something from the cellar," Tell Tale said as he passed through the living room and out the front door.

"Don't be long, I can't wait to hear this story," The colt replied, a wide grin split across his face like a fissure across the earth.

"Don't you worry, we'll only be a few minutes," Cold Print said before closing the door behind Tell Tale.

The cellar was nearly pitch-black, save for the bright green light illuminating from Cold Print's horn. "Now, wherever did we put that chest," the unicorn muttered as he scoured the oaken room.

"Cold Print, over here. I think I found it," Tell Tale called over from the far corner of the cellar. As Cold Print trotted closer, his horn revealed a box made of solid iron and locked with a sliding mechanism lock, a handle made of brass on each side of the chest. Tell Tale grabbed one of the handles in his mouth and began to pull it towards the stairs, before stopping to catch his breath.

"It's a bit heavier than I recall it being," Tell Tale said between breaths.

"Let me give you some help with that," Cold Print replied, grabbing the other handle in his mouth and carrying it up the cellar's stairs.

"I just had a thought," Tell Tale said after they set the chest down once they reached the top of the stairs. "What are we going to tell him about, you know, the incident? I can't just tell him about Død's suicide. He isn't old enough to hear about something that horrible."

Cold Print was silent for a moment. "I most certainly agree, you'd have to be quite the sadist to tell a foal that. Just avoid that particular detail, lie if you have to." He finally said before they picked up the chest again and carried it inside.

As they set the chest down in front of the couch, Feather Pen's eyes grew wide with excitement and curiosity.

"What's inside, Dad?" Feather Pen asked, examining the chest. Cold Print's horn shone with magic as he opened the chest, undoing the lock with ease.

"Lots of memories, both good and bad," Tell Tale said as he reached into the chest, pulling out several photographs, each framed in yew branches.

"Who are they, Dad?" Feather Pen asked, looking at the photos over his father's shoulder.

"They were the other performers in our troupe, Stemmen Fra Scandineighvia. That right there," he said as he held up the photo of a Pegasus mare who was clad in black leather adorned with spikes made of steel, "is Symfoniske Strenge. Though she, along with the others and myself, went by a stage name. Hers was Død, and she could play the violin like no other. Her music was incredibly serene, and it honestly helped us through some of the rougher performances." He let out a sigh, put the photo down carefully, and grabbed the second photograph.

It was a photo of a unicorn with fur white as fresh snow, and a stringy charcoal-black mane. "This is Frysende Måne, or as he was called on-stage, Dunkelheit. He was a bit off but a really good actor, and was rather polite for the most part." He set the photo down beside Død's, and picked up the third and final photo in the stack, "Actually, Cold Print, could you...?" His voice trailing off, before snapping back to reality. "I don't think I'll be able to get through talking about him without punctuating my every sentence with something unpleasant." He said, his voice coated in malice's venom like a snake's fangs. His husband nodded, and Tell Tale handed the photo over, letting out a deep breath after doing so.

The photo was of another unicorn with a sandy blonde mane, a scraggly beard, and light brown fur. He wore matching brown robes, and had an amulet around his neck engraved with the image of an eight-legged horse.

"This is Brændende Træ," Cold Print said. "Going by the stage name Aske, handled a lot of the stage designs, especially if they involved fire. Which was all of them. To be put lightly, he was not the best pony you could meet."

"What's that around his neck?" Feather Pen asked, pointing to the amulet.

"It was a good luck charm of his. I never saw him take it off, he wore it everywhere. He believed it to be blessed by Sleipnir, one of Scandineighvia's rulers."

"Why don't you ever act with them anymore?" Feather Pen asked, laying his head on Tell Tale's lap. "You're friends, aren't you?" Tell Tale froze, his blood going cold.

"We...we had a falling out," he stammered out, trying to avoid the question.

"Now, let's get on with the story itself," Cold Print said, wrapping a hoof around his son snugly.