Our story began many hundreds of years ago, long before the rise of our noble kingdom. It was a time of monsters and cataclysms, kings and demons, great heroes and mighty deeds. In this age, the land of Felaccia was home to the griffon tribes. They lived in hills rich with metals and minerals, teeming with game for eating and sport. Each family was prosperous in their own way, though separated by distance and disagreement. Pride runs deep in the griffon heart to this day, and it was no different then. The tribes did not wish to share their bounty, and desired help from the outside even less.
This pride would be their downfall.
The earth shook with weighted footsteps. The stones upon which the griffons roosted danced to a thundering beat. The chicks peered from their tents in the early morning, while elders hurried to gather up any belongings they could carry. A cloud of dust rose out of the east, obscuring the rising sun.
Warriors gripped their spears tight as they cast their wary gaze toward the source of the tremors. Many speculated, though the wiser among them kept quiet. They knew the old tales. Tales of a monster who devoured souls. Horns like cedar trees. Footsteps that could cause an earthquake. Grasping hands. Piercing yellow eyes.
So the sun rose, and the griffons cried out, for against the glare fell an immense shadow.
It was the Demon King Tirek, Keeper of the Rainbow of Darkness.
***
“Papa, do you think Tirek was real?”
Two large eyes blinked over a tiny beak. The fuzzy griffon chick wrapped her talons over the edge of her colorful quilt. “Do you?” she squawked in the griffon tongue.
A mass of feathers rustled at the edge of the candlelight. An ancient armchair creaked as a large, bald, wrinkled head turned to regard the smaller griffon. A sharp eye narrowed. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
The fuzzy griffon clicked her beak. “Because my last bedtime story was about Father Yuletide, and he isn’t real, either.”
The elder ran his talons through his vast beard of feathers. “Father Yuletide is real, Stella. Or was. The stories are based on a real individual who…” He watched as Stella’s eyebrows slowly but surely wrinkled her forehead. “Who probably didn’t climb down chimneys to deliver presents.”
Stella shook her head.
“But still, Tirek was as real as they come.” The father’s hefty talon clapped down on a small nightstand. “It was only ten years ago that he returned to terrorize the world and was once again imprisoned.”
Stella’s eyes lit up. “Was it the Element Bearers that stopped him?”
The father’s wickedly-curved beak parted. He looked away from Stella, studying a soft rug at the side of her bed. “Aye. Yet another debt the world owes to those mares.”
She sat up, her wings folded behind her as she bounced on the bed. “What happens next in the story, Papa? Do the griffons defeat Tirek? Do they run? Do Celestia and Luna come to save the day?”
The father turned the page. He smiled over at the griffon chick. “I’m afraid not. This story takes place quite some time before the sisters were born. The griffons only had themselves…”
***
And it wasn’t nearly enough.
The great demon devoured their magic, whole tribes at a time. Each feeding increased his power and intensified his hunger. With their people in shambles, the elders of one tribe grasped at a terrifying, unsure hope.
The young ones, from the fledglings to those on the cusp of adulthood, would be sent far, far away across the sea. Their tribe lived on the coast, so they were no strangers to sailing. A stalwart ship was chosen, stocked, and sent on its way amid heartfelt goodbyes.
Just before their homeland disappeared over the horizon, the children caught a glimpse of the mighty centaur overrunning their tribe singlehandedly.
A young, sturdy cub had been chosen as the exodus’ leader; Gregor, a griffon known for his sharp eye and strong wings. He grasped the mast with one talon, watching helplessly as all he knew was consumed. With a clenched beak, he turned to the open ocean, staring ahead into what he hoped was a new life.
The young children were led below decks, and those strong enough to work set about keeping the vessel on course.
***
“Is Gregor gonna be the one who defeats Tirek?” Stella asked.
The father placed a talon on the page to keep his place. “No one is going to defeat Tirek in this story, Stella. He was not imprisoned until Celestia and Luna began their reign.”
Stella’s tiny beak chirped in surprise. “But he’s the bad guy! Somebody has to stop him!”
“And he is stopped, but not until much later.” The father’s wings spread out, deepening the shadows in the room. His wingtips touched the walls on either side. “That is unfortunately the way it is in real life. Villains are hardly put in their place immediately.”
Stella crossed her puffy, white-feathered forelegs. “I don’t like it.”
“I’m not overly fond of it, either.” The father smirked. He glanced back at the page to read a few sentences ahead. “But perhaps you would enjoy hearing what the story is actually about?”
Stella huffed, but she nodded.
***
It was a month’s journey in their tiny boat. They had plenty of fresh water on board, but the other supplies dwindled astonishingly fast. First, the game they had hunted prior to the escape tumbled overboard in a storm. Next, the fruit was found to be wormy and rotted.
Gregor did his best to keep their spirits up. He requested songs to be sung every night to lull them to sleep. He held a game of fishing each day to see who could gather the biggest catch. He was quick to remind them of how soon they would reach their destination, if only they would hold on to hope.
At long last, through trial and terror, the lookout spotted land.
The chicks and cubs cheered as their voyage finally came to an end. At Gregor’s direction, they flew into the air in a flock, dragging the ship onto the beach. A camp was made around a blazing campfire, built with tinder from a nearby forest. Plans were drawn into the wet sand: Most of the young ones would remain in the ship, protected by the strongest fighters, while Gregor himself would lead a band of scouts over the land.
The next day, they set off through the sky. The land they had found was lush with fruit and rolling green hills, overflowing with clear water. Flowers of every color imaginable grew on the vast fields. Villages could be spotted in the distance, inhabited by creatures Gregor had never seen before.
It was a far cry from the mountains of home, but it was still beautiful. Gregor turned to his fellow scouts with a smile on his face, ready to lead the way back to the ship.
His beak fell when he spotted the monster following them.
It smashed through the treetops with a heart-rending shriek. It body was grown from purple crystal, within which glowed a destructive fire. Its face was long and angular, filled with rows of jagged teeth. A whip-like tail thrashed behind it, dreaded barbs flashing in the dying sunlight. Its forelegs reached for them with grasping claws while its large, translucent wings churned up a gale.
The monster was called a grotesque; a beast crafted for little else but destruction.
Gregor acted immediately, throwing his spear at the approaching behemoth. His fellow scouts dove out of the way, saving them from the grotesque’s jaws. The spearpoint bounced off the monster’s crystalline hide and fell to the forest far below. One of the griffon scouts was nicked by its tail and sent spiraling out of control.
Gregor grasped the scout by his talon and hoisted him back into the air. He handed the injured griffon to another flyer and commanded them to flee. He would distract the grotesque for what he hoped was long enough.
How? Now that was a good question.
He flapped circles around the monster, flying over and under its grasping claws, just out of reach of its vicious teeth. He collided with a wing and nearly lost his sense of up and down, but was able to recover. A scratch of his talons did nothing to break the creature’s defenses.
He glanced away to see that the other griffons had made it to a safe distance, still flying their way to the ship. With his attention elsewhere, he did not notice the grotesque taking a deep breath in.
Purple, wicked fire poured from between the monster’s jaws. The blaze struck Gregor like a lightning bolt, exploding with a force harsher than the hottest wind back home. His wings went numb as he tumbled out of the sky in a trail of smoke and feathers.
Monstrous light shone in the grotesque’s eyes. It went into a dive to follow Gregor downward, its mouth open, ready to make him its latest meal. Gregor closed his eyes and turned his head towards the ground.
The grotesque shrieked in pain.
Gregor’s eyes opened to see the beast being driven back by intense blasts of magic. It howled and spun away as chinks appeared in its armored hide.
Gregor spread his wings in a last-ditch effort to slow his descent. He hit the top of the forest canopy with a grunt, snapping branches on his way down. The last thing he saw before unconsciousness took him was the flooded river waiting to swallow him up.
***
The father heard a tiny whimper across the room. His brow furrowed in concern as he turned his head to one side, letting one eye look directly at his daughter. “What is it, Stella?”
She swallowed hard, bringing the quilt up to her neck. “Um. Are grotesques real, too? They sound really… really nasty.”
The father smiled warmly at her. “The grotesques had their day in the light. They are long extinct after a rather brutal battle with the dragons. You don’t have to let them cloud your nightmares.”
Stella rolled onto her side and stared at the candle. “Where did they come from?”
“Some say they were the dragons’ only natural predators. Some say they came from a world beyond, or were crafted by an evil enchantress…” The father shrugged. “Who can say, now that they’re gone?”
“Well…” One of Stella’s bright blue eyes winked at her father. “I guess now I have to know how the story ends, don’t I?”
He chuckled deep in his chest. “I was hoping you’d say that. This is my favorite part.”
***
Gregor awoke to the roar of a river and heartfelt shouting. The water flowed through his feathers, threatening to drag him downstream. Something strong grasped his foreleg, pulling him against the current. He opened his mouth to cough out the bile and liquid trying to force its way into his lungs. He flopped to the dirty riverbank to give his aching limbs a rest.
He took his first clean breath in a long time and filled his lungs with life. His stomach twisted when he tried to sit up. Something soft and warm pushed him back to the ground. He opened his eyes and beheld a strange creature.
It walked on four hooves, rather than talons or paws. It had long, blonde hair atop its head, braided in two trails over its shoulders. Its light orange coat was damp and muddy from the river. It spoke with a strange, braying tongue—
***
“It’s a pony,” Stella said.
The father lost his place, the words dying on his beak. He squinted at his daughter with a severe frown.
“Hooves, colorful coat, braying language, it’s a pony.” Stella shrugged and spread her wings wide. “Surprise, I guess?”
The father harrumphed and held the book close to his beak. “Might have been a donkey,” he mumbled to himself.
***
The creature… the pony spoke in its strange, braying tongue. When he didn’t respond, she switched to a bark, then a crackling growl, and finally a familiar squawk.
“Where hurts?” came the broken words. “Wings break?”
He spread his wings and found, much to his surprise, that they were mostly intact. The feathers were singed and burned, but would grow back soon enough. He shook his head.
“Any hurts? Death hurts? Itchy hurts?” asked the pony. She looked over his body with her large eyes, making note of several large bruises and cuts on his torso.
Gregor snorted and winced at a pain in his side. He held a talon over the area, scrunching his face up.
The pony nodded quickly. “Ribeye… No. Ribs. Find you veterinarian.”
Gregor tilted his head to the side and let his beak hang open.
The pony blushed bright. “Doctor. Find you doctor.”
Gregor smiled, a laugh hissing in his throat. He bowed his head to her in thankfulness.
The pony took his talon. “You walk?”
He rolled onto his belly, groaning when his bruised ribs took a bit of the weight. He brought himself to his feet. He almost fell over when his left rear leg slipped out from beneath him. He was caught in the pony’s forelegs before he hit the muddy bank.
“No walk,” said the pony. “Ride?”
He looked down at her body. He was still young, so they were close to the same size, but he knew he wasn’t the lightest griffon. She was fairly slight, as well. He pointed to her legs and shook his head.
She smirked at him, backing up to a tree. Her hind legs kicked out and hit it square in the trunk. The entire tree shook from the force of the blow.
Her forehead wrinkled as she sought the proper words. “Ground pony strong. Strong more than looking.”
She squared her hooves and stared at him, the triumphant grin stuck fast to her face. Gregor smiled in return, but frowned as he climbed over her back, his ribs complaining all the while. The pony walked in silence between the trees, casting nervous glances at the branches high above.
The howl of the grotesque sent shivers down their spine. The pony charged towards an old, gnarled tree whose roots had grown up out of the ground. She found a hollow which was just large enough for her to crawl through. She looked over her shoulder to Gregor.
“You hide?” asked the pony. “You fit?”
Gregor lowered himself from her back as the devilish cries grew ever closer. He clutched the pain in his side, sizing up the opening in the roots. It didn’t look like much, he thought, but it just might hold him. Only if he could fit through the gap, of course. He crawled gingerly, an inch at a time, hissing with each movement forward.
Trees thrashed and branches snapped in the near distance. The pony waved her hoof, urging him on. “Fast! Fast! Fast!” she cried.
He squirmed his wings past the aged wood, falling into an open pit below the tree. He scrambled out of the way when the pony came barreling in after him. Her heart pounding, she pushed him against the wall and kept his beak closed with a hoof. She held her breath and listened to the monster rampaging through the forest.
The flicker of purple fire shone through the opening to their hiding spot as the grotesque lurched past. Then it was gone, and the forest was silent.
The pony went limp and flopped to the floor, breathing a huge sigh of relief. Gregor lay back. He spread his injured wings so that he wouldn’t crush them under his body. He moaned from the pain in his chest.
The pony lifted her head. She looked down at his bruises, then stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth in contemplation. “Return soon. Find medicine.”
“Wait,” said Gregor. He spoke slowly and clearly, using simple words so that she could understand. “The beast is still out there. It is safer in here.”
She pressed her lips tight together. She studied the dirt for a moment before answering with a smirk. “Monster not see. Lots more hiding.”
“Wait here for a while,” said Gregor. He tapped his beak together, draining a small bit of his nervous energy. “Make sure the beast is gone. I am not going to die. We can wait.”
The pony rubbed her foreleg softly. “You have hurts.”
Gregor smiled. “I can deal with it.”
When the pony tilted her head, one eyebrow raised, he tried again. “Not a problem,” said Gregor.
The pony frowned. She looked up at the roots before shaking her head. “I wait. For a little bit”
Gregor gingerly touched a sore spot on the side of his head. “Thank you.”
The pony sat on her haunches, brushing the soil off her orange coat. She cleared her throat and spoke in a rehearsed, clipped voice. “My name is Smart Cookie. What is your name?”
“My name is Gregor,” replied the griffon. He turned his head sideways so that he could look her in the eye. “Where are—?”
***
The father was interrupted by a high-pitched squeal pealing forth from his daughter. Her lungs emptied themselves before she could bring herself to use actual words. “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness!”
The father sighed and set the book on his lap. “Yes, Stella?”
“It’s Smart Cookie! One of the six Founders of Equestria!” She gasped. “That must mean they’re in the Everfree Forest. It might even be right after the Unification! Since this is before Celestia and Luna were found, this might even be before they built Fort Everfree!”
“Stella—” the father said.
“Oh! Is this before or after she and Centurion Pansy decided they couldn’t be together?” Stella hopped up, her wings flapping behind her. “Do she and Gregor fall in love? Do they live happily ever after?”
“Stella!” The father screeched her name just loud enough to overpower her voice. “Would you grant me the privilege of reading but one story at a time?”
She sat down hard, a blush peering through her white feathers. “Sorry, Papa.”
The father rubbed his beak to hide a smile. “Don’t do that! I can only take so much adorableness.”
Stella giggled and lay back on her bed. “How did Smart Cookie know how to speak our language?”
The father turned the page. “I was just getting to that part…”
***
“Where are we?” asked Gregor.
Smart Cookie waved a hoof around. “Not know griffon name. In Equish, is ‘Brahuhuwm Wuff.’”
***
“I knew it was the Everfree Forest!”
“Stella…”
“Sorry, Papa.”
***
“So this is the land of ponies?” said Gregor. He brought his wings forward to examine his charred plumage. He picked out the most deformed feathers and did his best to realign the rest.
Smart Cookie bobbed her head. “We come south to run from evil spirits. Good land here. Warm. Much more gentle.”
Gregor raised a wry eyebrow. “Even the monsters?”
Smart Cookie laughed like silver bells. “Monsters everywhere. But together, ponies strong.”
A thought occurred to Gregor, which he voiced aloud, “How did you learn my language?”
“Travel a lot with friends Clover and Hurricane. Long trip across the sea,” said Smart Cookie. “Visited Tribe of Corvus.”
She scootched closer to him and watched as he cleaned his wings. “What tribe you?”
“Tribe of Leo,” said Gregor, pausing to spit a feather that had floated into his beak. “But the tribe is gone now. We’re all that’s left.”
Smart Cookie’s face fell. She brought a hoof to her lips. “Tirek?”
Gregor’s body went stiff at the mention of the name. He groaned from the bottom of his heart. “How do you know this name?”
“Zebra refugees. Lost homes to centaur.” She reached out and laid her foreleg across his uninjured shoulder. “You bring family?”
Gregor closed his eyes. “A few. They are camped by the coast. I am worried the monster will hunt them.”
Smart Cookie winked. “No. Friend Clover use big spell. Break wing. Monster not fly anymore. Then I come to find you.”
Gregor took a deep breath in to clear his lungs and his mind. “Good. Thank you.”
She stopped up his beak with her hoof, preventing him from thanking her more. He looked at her with crossed eyes, grunting in confusion as a devilish smile crawled across her face.
“Listen,” said Smart Cookie. “You hear?”
He strained his fuzzy ears, but did not hear anything out of the ordinary. “No?”
“Listen,” said Smart Cookie again. She cupped her hooves to her mouth and cooed out the call of a mourning dove. A second later, she was answered from outside their hiding spot. “There! Birds sing when monster gone.”
She patted his foreleg. “I go find medicine. You stay safe.”
She scrambled out from under the tree and disappeared into the forest. Gregor slid himself closer to the opening and listened to the birds singing in the branches of nearby trees. A wind started up, bringing cool, fresh air whistling through the roots. The sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon, causing the heart-stopping, fiery orange sky to fade to cool, sparkling purple.
A firefly landed on Gregor’s nose and winked on and off. He smiled at it, soon turning to watch the silvery moon rise into the sky. A tinge of worry gripped his heart. He prayed that Tirek would never find his way across the ocean to this beautiful place.
The undergrowth rustled beneath oncoming footsteps. Fireflies zipped out from the tall grass to evade Smart Cookie’s trampling hooves. Around her, small pony-like beings fluttered on gossamer wings. Voices like tiny flutes trilled through the forest as the creatures muttered amongst themselves.
Gregor backed away from the entrance to let Smart Cookie and her companions through. She planted her front legs in front of him, looking into his eyes with utmost seriousness. “Tell nobody about them.”
Gregor’s eyes trailed after the small ponies. They never stayed still, continually fluttering and flying around the inside of the hollowed roots. One hovered beside his head, its eyes squinting at his injuries. Its curly mane flowed like clouds atop its head.
“What are they?” asked Gregor.
“The Secret People,” said Smart Cookie. “They live in soft winds. When I was small, I find one in forest. It stepped on. Lots of hurts. I help it. When family comes to find, they say thank you.”
One of the little ponies fluttered up to Smart Cookie’s ear and spoke in its warbling tongue. Cookie laughed and trilled back. She tilted her head and shrugged at Gregor. “They still saying thank you.”
She held out her hoof to allow one to rest. “They want to be secret,” said Smart Cookie. “Don’t tell anybody. Promise.”
Gregor crossed his heart. “I promise.”
***
“Breezies are so adorable,” Stella said, yawning wide.
The father stretched a long wing out to rub his daughter’s forehead. “I see you caught onto that, too.”
“Yeah.” Stella reached up with her tiny talon to hold her father’s wingtip to her beak, where she placed a small kiss. She snuggled back under her covers. “They didn’t stay secret for long, did they?”
The father chuckled. He gave her a warm smile. “It’s hard to stay secret after tying up an alicorn and stapling her to the ground. I believe they thought defending their crops against giants was worth being out in the open.”
Stella grinned. She shut her eyes tight against another yawn. “I remember that story. Mama told it to me and Corona.”
A lump found its way to the father’s throat. He blinked back a sudden sting in his eyes. “She did, didn’t she?”
“Yeah. She told us lots of stories. About the princesses and the Element Bearers and history…” Stella’s feathery brow wrinkled. “I don’t remember very much. But I remember her stories.”
The father ran a talon over his face. He peeked out the window to check the position of the moon. “We’d best get on with the story, Stella, if we want to finish it tonight.”
Stella closed her beak and ran a talon over it, showing that it was sealed. “I’ll stay quiet, Papa.”
“Thank you. Now, where were we?”
***
The Secret People swarmed around Gregor’s body, sticking poultices to his burns and scrapes. Two paid special attention to his wings. They set about correcting the feathers and painting them with a bright, golden liquid that soothed the pain almost instantly.
One of the tiny ponies passed Smart Cookie a bottle. She took it in her hooves and held it to Gregor’s beak.
“Ambrosia. Drink,” said Smart Cookie. “It burns, but heals.”
Gregor was about to accept the drink, when one of the little ponies spat on a scratch and rubbed the saliva into his skin. He stared, wide-eyed. Before he could protest, Smart Cookie laughed.
“It okay,” said Smart Cookie. “That heals, too.”
Gregor shook his head. He drank the ambrosia quickly, wincing as it burned its way down his throat. He felt the tingling sensation of magic spread through his body, touching every limb. The pain in his ribs fell away, swallowed up by warmth.
Smart Cookie sat down beside him. The Secret People gathered around her, perching on her like birds on a tree. “You wings be better tomorrow. You fly to family. Bring them to village. Ponies help you build a home.”
Gregor tapped his talons together. “Why do you want to help us?”
Smart Cookie lay her back against a root and rested a cheek on her shoulder. “Why not?”
When Gregor said nothing, she closed her eyes and rolled over. “Sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
The Secret People sighed as one and used Smart Cookie as an enormous community pillow. She curled in on herself, wrapping her tail against her lower half. Gregor thought about what she’d said. She had never even met him before, and she was willing to charge through the forest to rescue him from a monster. And now she had shared a very precious secret in order to make him well.
He decided he wasn’t going to argue her point. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
***
Stella jolted awake when she felt a feather against her beak. She blinked owlishly at her father.
Her father started to shut the book. “We can save the story for tomorrow, if you’d like to sleep.”
“No, wait.” Stella fluffed her pillow up and sat against it. “I can stay awake. I want to know what happens to them.”
“You are a growing young lady.” The father folded his wings outside the candlelight. “You need your rest.”
“Please, Papa?” She fluffed out her head feathers, making her appear to be even fuzzier. She tilted her head in that specific way that made her father smile, opening her eyes wide. “Pretty please?”
The father rolled his eyes. “I suppose I’m outvoted.”
***
When the night had passed, and the sun was on its way over the horizon, Gregor roused himself from rest. He tested his formerly aching limbs to find them feeling strong and able. His wings, though nowhere near perfect, were quite functional. Even his bruised ribs no longer complained.
He turned to the pony beside him. The Secret People had left sometime while they slept, off to whatever magical land they hailed from. Smart Cookie snored softly as she rubbed her nose against her foreleg.
He patted her on the shoulder, rousing her. She stretched and looked at him with tired eyes. He told her that he would follow their plan and fly off to get his fellow exiles. She nodded, replying that she would prepare the village for their arrival. He crawled out of the roots and gave her one final word of thanks before spreading his wings and cautiously taking to the sky. He smiled to himself as he broke through the same canopy he’d fallen through the previous day.
The grotesque stirred. Its eyes, burning coals of wicked fire, watched the griffon rise above the trees. It flexed its injured wings, sneering at the cracks and holes running through them. It clawed its way past a tree, leaving a deep gash in its bark. No doubt the griffon had been hiding somewhere in the darkness. No doubt that he would have needed help to have healed so quickly. No doubt, this help would still be close by.
The grotesque roared and rampaged its way through the forest, intent on destruction.
Gregor halted in midair when the roar reached his ears. He looked down and saw the trees move like stormy waves, on a deadly collision course with the hiding spot. The flash of purple fire caught his eyes as the branches burned up in the growing conflagration. Another sound rose above the snap of trees breaking and the crackle of flames.
Smart Cookie screamed.
The sun rose behind Gregor as he charged into the flames. He weaved between bent and broken boughs. He slid beneath scalding, sulfurous tinder. He reached the tree a moment after the grotesque did, and could only watch as it breathed its distorted magical fire on it. The monster bent low to slide its long claws between the roots and lifted the burning tree. Wood groaned in protest as the ancient, gnarled tree toppled, leaving Smart Cookie standing in the open.
Gregor grasped a wispy treetop and looped it around the branches of a scarred sycamore. With a mighty tug, he pulled it close to the monster’s back.
The grotesque swung its razor-sharp tail around to end the pony’s life. It hissed in surprise when it found itself tangled up in Gregor’s makeshift knot. It lashed out with a fist, shattering the trees and knocking the griffon to the ground. He landed hard on his wing, screaming as pain flared up in the joint.
The monster screeched with what might have been laughter. Two victims for the price of one! It reached for Gregor, but the griffon was already on his feet and running as fast as his newly-aching legs could carry him. The grotesque dug its claws into the loamy soil and lurched after him. Its stubby rear limbs were not built for walking fast, but its long gait still proved dangerous to the ground-bound griffon.
Gregor skidded to a halt at the edge of a yawning gorge. He looked down, down, down to a babbling brook below, framed on either side by sharp rocks. His talons gripped the edge of the cliff, his nails scraping against the stone. The far side of the gorge was clear. It would have been a safe haven, if his wing hadn’t been broken. As it was, he was trapped between a very big monster and a very long drop.
The grotesque burst through the treeline, ripping two young trees from the rocky ground. It grasped the ledge to either side of Gregor and opened its mouth wide to consume him with unearthly fire. Smart Cookie popped out of the trees next, using her mouth to grasp the tip of the creature’s tail. Her tug sent it off balance, giving Gregor an opportunity to slip out from underneath the monster.
The grotesque slammed its hands against the ledge, shaking several rocks loose. The shock ran through the ground and knocked Gregor off his feet. He tottered on the edge, clawing for dear life. The monster swung its tail in a wide arc, catching Smart Cookie in the side with its barbed spikes. She yelped as she was sent careening into the side of an oak. She fell motionless to the dirt.
Gregor’s rear legs slipped over the side. He hung on by the tips of his talons, staring into the grotesque’s burning eyes. He swallowed hard, holding back tears as the end was sure to come. The cliff shook with every hefty step the beast took, knocking loose rock after rock.
The creature grabbed him around the middle and hoisted him high into the air. It opened its mouth wide to devour a delicious meal. Smart Cookie groaned and pushed herself upright, just in time to watch the monster claim its assured victory.
Smart Cookie bellowed forth a battle cry and charged at a full gallop. She spun around to kick one of the grotesque’s legs out from underneath it. The monster lost its balance, landing hard on its rear. It dropped Gregor in surprise and roared in outrage. The griffon spread his good wing and caught just enough air to point himself towards the edge of the cliff. He slid through the loose loam, his rear legs scrambling for a hold.
The weight of the monster caused the ledge to shift. Its arms and legs wheeled around, grasping at loose rocks, falling dirt, and tangled roots. The vast chasm loomed before the grotesque, a distorted mirror of its own hungry jaws. With one final scream, the monster tumbled head over wings to the punishing rocks far below.
The ground fell out from beneath Smart Cookie. She tumbled downward, on a route to join the beast in its grisly end. Gregor reached a talon out, holding her hoof tight. His other talon gripped a firm root. They dangled over the precipice, breathing heavily, until Gregor regained enough strength to hoist the two of them up.
“Flying ponies,” gasped Smart Cookie. “We send flying ponies to get your family.”
Gregor nodded in agreement before letting his chin plop to the soil.
So they made the journey through the forest to Smart Cookie’s village. It was a fairly quick trek, made a bit more difficult by their injuries. But through perseverance and sheer, unabashed determination, they made it alive. Ponies flocked around them as they walked into town, fretting over Smart Cookie’s injuries and making comments about her companion. One mare in a heavy cloak, Clover the Clever, took the two of them into a warm, comfortable little hut. They explained to her the events of the past two days while they sipped soup and had their injuries treated.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t stop the grotesque yesterday,” said Clover, whose grasp of the language was far better than Cookie’s. “When you and the monster fell through the trees, I thought we’d lost the both of you.”
Clover looked at Smart Cookie with a knowing smile. “Smart Cookie was convinced she could find you and rescue you, though. She has a thing for tracking down strays.”
Gregor bowed his head to Smart Cookie. “Thank you both. I owe the two of you a great debt.”
Clover the Clever smiled. “Think nothing of it.”
Smart Cookie placed a hoof over Gregor’s talons. She looked him in the eyes and grinned. “No. Not Debt. Friends.”
Gregor laid his other talon atop her hoof. “Yes. Friends.”
***
The father glanced at the candle, which had burned almost to its base. He turned to his daughter, whose breath was light and shallow. “‘Thus the Tribe of Leo found a home in the land of Equestria. Together, Gregor and Smart Cookie were able to build strong ties between the ponies and the griffons. Homes were built, friendships formed, and lives restored. Even now, many Equestria-born griffons are named with a ‘G’ to honor Gregor and his family.’”
He closed the book and trundled over to her bedside. He smoothed down her forelock with a gentle twist of his weighty talon. “‘Years later, Gregor and Smart Cookie married and had a son, a hippogriff. He was named Moshe because of how Cookie had drawn Gregor from the river. The two of them lived happily together for the rest of their lives.’”
He kissed her on the top of her head. “Goodnight, Stella.”
She stirred. Her eyes blinked open. “Papa?”
He smiled. “Hush now. Go to sleep.”
Her eyes closed with a sigh. “Thank you for telling me stories.”
He drew the quilt to her chin. “I love you, Stella.”
He blew out the candle and moved stealthily to leave the room, closing the door behind him. His talons and paws clicked against the marble floor underfoot. He gazed up at the colorful tapestries hanging from the carved stone walls, depicting griffon heroes of old.
“Mm! King Andean,” a crackly voice said from behind the father. “I notice you left out the part where Gregor was ostracized by his tribe for the abomination of marrying a pony.”
King Andean Ursagryph, Ruler of Felaccia and Lord of the Griffon Lands, sneered over his shoulder. “What are you doing here, Corvus?”
The crackly voice belonged to a small, black-feathered griffon whose feline rear half was covered in striped gray fur. Red, silky robes clung to his thin, almost gaunt body. He smiled up at his king. “It’s my job to be here, Your Grace.”
Andean narrowed his eyes, puffing up the feathers on his broad chest. “Why are you wearing Chamberlain Southpaw’s robes? Where is your sash of status, Councilor?”
Councilor Corvus Mellori Corvus gave the king a sweeping bow. “Many apologies, Your Grace, I thought you had been informed. Earlier today I had a scheduled duel of honor with Southpaw, with our respective stations on the line.”
“I had heard,” King Andean said. “Knowing of Southpaw’s skill with the blade, I assumed that you would be the one to fall.”
Corvus shrugged. “I was nervous myself, but we all have off days. It just so happened that today was his.”
Andean Ursagryph heaved a deep sigh. “Is he dead, then?”
“Heavens no!” Corvus followed alongside Andean as the king made his way down the hall. “I am no fool; the duel was to the first blood. He will no doubt safely retire with his family to some Giraffrican estate or other. I chose my successor as councilor this afternoon, and was able to assume my new duties this evening. It’s all very efficient.”
“Allow me to say this,” Andean growled. “As the new head of my household, it is your duty to see that things run smoothly. If I see anything out of place or not to my liking, it is fully within my power to run down to Zebrabwe, grab Southpaw, and reinstate him myself.” Andean lowered his gigantic condor-esque head to Corvus’ level. “Do I make my position clear on the matter, Chamberlain?”
Corvus Mellori Corvus coughed down the sudden lump in his throat. “Clear as crystal, Your Grace.”
The chamberlain fluttered his wings, jumping away from Andean’s massive grizzly bear paw. “Mm! You know, Your Grace, since I’m practically part of the family now, I thought—”
“A position in my family is like most positions in government, Corvus.” Andean snapped his beak to emphasize his point. “It must be earned before it can be held.”
Corvus’ gangly arm came out from under his robes to rub his neck. “I meant not to presume anything, Your Grace, merely—”
“Out with it, you sycophant!” Andean roared. His booming voice echoed down the hall, rattling empty suits of armor and billowing out the tapestries. He held up a clenched fist. “Just tell me what the problem is so that I can start to fix it.”
“It’s not a problem, per se—” Corvus Mellori Corvus shut his beak when he caught the dangerous glint in his king’s eyes. “Why did you end the story where you did?”
Andean Ursagryph rumbled in the pit of his stomach. “How long were you listening at the door?”
“Not long, I swear!” Corvus sat on his haunches and held his forelegs up like a shield. “Just long enough to hear the end, where they live happily ever after. But”—he shrugged, his eyes wide and wary—“but it didn’t happen that way.”
Andean turned his eyes to the ground, and that sparked a new boldness in his chamberlain. “Gregor was ostracized, as I said,” Corvus’ voice crackled forth. “And later, after Tirek was defeated, Celestia sent Moshe to broker peace between the griffon tribes. He was stoned for existing. He barely made it out alive, Your Grace, and the griffons caught the wrath of the Sun’s Sovereign as a result!”
Corvus crossed his forelegs and made one, decisive flap of his wings. “I fear that the story lost its real impact. You took what was meant to be a cautionary tale about inter-species marriage and turned it into an adventurous romp. It turns a history lesson into a fairy tale, Your Grace.”
He gestured down the hall to Stella’s room. “You’ll only feed the naiveté of childhood. In this modern world, that’s a dangerous proposition.”
Andean thought quietly for a minute. He walked down the hallway, his back to an increasingly-nervous Corvus. He came to the enormous double-doors of his throne room, where he planned to spend the evening going over progress reports.
“What is naiveté, Corvus?” he said at last.
“Well—” Corvus Mellori Corvus dithered for a moment. “Well, I would say to be naïve is to be ignorant of how the real world functions. A limited scope of experience in terms of morality. A belief that lies solely in the moral absolutes of good and evil, perhaps. Some call it innocence and some call it stupid—”
“You may stop now.” Andean rested his talon on the handle, but did not open the door. “You know, I once thought that good and evil did not exist. That the world was merely several shades of gray. That there was no absolute justice or peace.”
He turned his head to the side to look at Corvus. “You see it every day. This griffon steals… to feed his family. This griffoness murders… because her family was threatened. Not black, not white, but a mixture of the two. Muddled and gray.”
Andean let his feet drop to the floor. “But then my daughters were born, and I realized something important.”
He prodded Corvus in the chest. “My daughters, Stella and Corona both, showed me that pure goodness could exist. It exists in their laughter, and their smiles, and their gifts and talents. When my daughters kiss me, there is no ulterior motive, no social climbing. Simple, good love.”
Andean Ursagryph sighed. “So, I reasoned, if pure good could exist, does not pure evil also exist?”
Corvus twiddled his talons. “Does it, Your Grace?”
“I see it, Corvus.” Andean ruffled his wings and stretched them to the entire width of the corridor. They still didn’t reach their full length. “I see it every night in my dreams. It haunts me. It frightens me. Me, of all people.”
Andean tapped his beak and mulled over his thoughts. “I told the story the way I did, because I was not trying to teach Stella about how hard the world can be. I was trying to teach her how wonderful it could be. She will find the terrible things, aye, with or without my help, but how long does she have to find the beauty in life?”
He laughed. “True, Gregor was shunned, outcast, tossed aside! But do you think he cared for a moment? Never! He was by his love’s side, and that was all that mattered! Did being stoned half to death scare Moshe? Certainly not! He continued to support the Equestrian Griffons for the rest of his life. The conflict with Celestia built our country into the empire it is today. I only shared a small slice of their lives with Stella, and I chose the one that would make her smile the most.”
He folded his wings against his back. “So I will tell her fairy tales. I will tell her stories of adventure and excitement, where true love is discovered and monsters are defeated, because life can be beautiful.”
Andean reached around and pulled the doors open. “There are two halves to naiveté: That which sees the world as only black and white, and that which sees it only in tones of gray.”
He strode into the throne room with Corvus hovering at his shoulder. Griffons of every shape, size, and color scurried around, carrying papers and file folders. An armored soldier saluted. “Your Grace, the ironclad warship prototype is complete and awaiting testing.”
“Thank you, Commander. Carry on,” Andean said. He flicked his beak in Corvus’ direction and whispered, “If you ever presume to lecture me on how to raise my children again, I shall launch a very dark, very nasty reprisal against you. Are we clear?”
“I say again, Your Grace,” Corvus whimpered, “crystal.”
Andean sat on his towering, oversized throne. Corvus regarded him for a moment, before turning around and flapping through the air. “One must wonder,” the chamberlain muttered, “if the world is such a beautiful place, what is all this for? Mm?”
An aide set a series of blueprints by Andean’s left talon. He grasped the bulk of them and held the sheets before his eyes. They depicted the ironclad fleet—ships made not out of wood, but impervious metal. They were resistant to magic, sturdy against catapults, and unflinching against arrows. There was no other vessel in the world that could match them.
He would not go to war with Equestria, not without an uncompromisingly good cause, but he was ready for it. To heck with it, he was ready to face the entire world and come out on top! But only if the need presented itself. Only if.
Only if it was the last chance to leave his daughters with a good world. So far, it didn’t seem necessary. But those dreams… Those nightmares…
Andean realized that he still held the storybook in his right talon. He lifted the fairy tales to sit beside the schematics for the latest griffon war machine. He sighed.
“Then again,” he muttered, “perhaps I’m just an old hypocrite.”
“Father!”
Andean raised his head above the paper. He beheld his oldest daughter, Corona, flying overhead, wearing a light suit of armor. She smiled at him, fluttering her wings to land softly before him. “I learned a lot today! Are you busy, or can I share it with you?”
Andean gave one last glance at the blueprints, and one last peek at the fairy tales, before casting both aside. He clasped his talons together and leaned forward eagerly. “Actually, Corona, I would love to hear a good story.”
Author's Note
This story was written for the April/May World-Building Alliance Writing Competition with the prompt of "Fairy tale."
Though this is obviously a stand-alone story, it is also part of an ongoing series. If you're interested in this story's world, or in its characters, you can see them in action all throughout the other stories. They're primarily pony stories, but don't discount the occasional non-pony main character.
Part of The Heart's Promise Continuity
Fahr Drill
Lord Mayor Applejack
The Unmitigated Disaster
Scootaloo Will Fly!
Nature in the Wild
DayBreak
Lightning Struck Home
In the Absence of Sunset Shimmer
