The Legend of the Scorpion Queen

by cursedchords

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Romance, Original Character
Length: 15348

On the eve of the Day of Reaping, the start of the Equestrian Harvest, it is traditional that a legend be told over supper: the legend of how the traditions surrounding the Day of Reaping came to be. It is a story of love, ambition, and vengeance.

On the eve of the Day of Reaping, the start of the Equestrian Harvest, it is traditional that a legend be told over supper: the legend of how the traditions surrounding the Day of Reaping came to be. It is a story of love, ambition, and vengeance.

Long before Equestria, a grand Unicorn King maintains a splendid garden. On one of his travels he brings a scorpion back to live within it. That scorpion, resentful of being removed from her home, sets out to have her revenge.

Published 2015-06-24 17:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-07-09 01:20:00 UTC

Chapter 1: The King and his Garden

The Legend of the Scorpion Queen

A Myth of Equestria

Chapter 1: The King and his Garden

Long ago, in the days of the Unicorn Kingdom, there lived a grand King, and he maintained a great garden in his castle grounds. His garden was the envy of the whole kingdom, and even Earth Ponies marveled at the number and size of the plants that he grew, and of the diversity of the animals that inhabited it. The King made many travels to far-off lands, each time bringing back exotic species which he used to make his garden richer and fairer still.

The King was especially proud of a great tree which stood at the centre of his garden. Its sloping branches cast shade over much of the rest of the grounds, providing a cool place for him to rest in the summer, and he delighted in climbing its branches, reaching up to heights that before only pegasi had been able to see. From its top he surveyed the entirety of his kingdom, and he was glad. And the kingdom was glad with him, for he was a kind King, and treated all of his subjects fairly and with justice.

On one of his expeditions, the King traveled far off to the great deserts of the east, and when he returned he brought with him the plants and animals that he had collected in his travels. Included within these animals there was a scorpion, who was excited when she saw the lush and verdant garden that was now her home. When the King released her, the scorpion rushed out and explored every hole and passage in the garden, and, finding the perfect spot for her new home, she settled down to wait for dawn.

For in the deserts of her home, the sunrise had always been the best part of her day, and the scorpion would admire its striking crimson hues before retiring. With the rest of her new home such a wondrous place, the scorpion felt certain that its sunrise would be truly a momentous sight.

But when the time came for the sun to rise, the scorpion was disappointed, for the dawn was clear and blue, and nothing like the beautiful sunrises she remembered. In the deserts of her home, the sun would colour the sky in prismatic shimmers of red, pink, and yellow, each day different and new. As the days passed, and each dawn came bright and clear as the last, the scorpion felt her hope fade.

And it seemed to her that all the garden lost some of its lustre. It was too crowded, she decided, too wet and too colourful. She came to miss the desert that she had once known, and she came to despise not just her new surroundings, but also the stallion that had brought her here.

The scorpion took to shadowing the King and his gardeners whenever they worked in the garden, and she listened intently to everything that they said. She noted with interest the great love that the King had for everything that he grew, but eventually she heard whispers that the King needed another love in his life. He needed an heir to continue his line, and so he was now searching for a mare to be his Queen, and in this she saw her opportunity.

And so that night the scorpion brooded long in her lair. With all that she now knew, there was a way for her to get her revenge upon the King. It would not get her back what she had lost, but it would ensure that he knew just how much he had taken from her.

The scorpion was not accustomed to navigating the garden by the light of day, but eventually she managed to find her way out, and scrambled over a wall into the castle itself. She did not spend any time about with the ponies that walked in its stone halls. Instead she ducked quickly into a crevice and headed down, into the darker and damper corners of the structure, where she knew her way around better.

Eventually, the scorpion found her way to her goal, a small hewn stone chamber beneath the castle, inhabited by a wizened old unicorn: the King’s court wizard, Star Light the Bright. The walls of the room were bare stone, and the air was damp, smelling of mould and rot. Star Light himself was a decrepit old skeleton of a stallion, trundling about on four wobbly legs, his narrow eyes squinting suspiciously at the items on his worktable. The cold lighting of the room made his pale blue fur look grey, and the last few threads of his loose mane were white as snow.

The scorpion detested the look of Star Light, but she had heard whispers from the gardeners about his magical prowess, and in order for her plan to work, she was going to need his help. And so, after taking a deep breath, she dropped herself down onto his worktable, right in front of him.

“What’s this?” the old unicorn muttered, attempting to scrutinize the scorpion through his low-hanging glasses. “Away with you, pest! Afore I swat you aside myself!”

“Please don’t,” the scorpion answered. “I have heard that you are a great and powerful unicorn, and I humbly request that you spare a moment to help a poor animal in need.”

Star Light brightened up at her glowing words. “Well now! Perhaps a great and powerful unicorn like Star Light the Bright could take a moment to help a poor soul. What seems to be your issue?”

The scorpion reached down inside herself to find the words that she had rehearsed. When she spoke, her voice was soft and gentle. “I see the King walk in the garden often. He tends the plants and befriends the animals, including me. He rescued me from the despair of my old home, and brought me here into this great paradise of his garden. I would do anything to repay him. But now I have heard that his heart is torn, and that he too despairs at his lack of a companion who shares his great love for all things growing. With your help, I could be that mare for him. That is what I ask. Turn me into a unicorn mare, so that I might become the King’s wife.”

Star Light considered it. “Well now, that is an interesting proposition. Excuse me if I don't immediately agree.”

“Why not?” Antares asked. “You should be as aware as any that he needs a Queen, and while I may not be a real unicorn, I would love him just as much as a mare could.”

Unexpectedly, Star Light chuckled. “I’ll bet you would,” he muttered under his breath. Then he brightened up, and plucked her up off of the bench with his magic. “Well, who am I to stand in the way of true love? The King needs a wife, and I suppose that you and I shall provide one for him!”

The old unicorn hemmed and hawed for a moment, and then summoned a great swarm of teal magical threads, which wrapped themselves tightly around her body. There was a second of nothingness, as though her body had ceased to exist, and then she stood once more within the wizard’s room. She walked over to a basin of water that stood in a corner, and when she looked down, she smiled, for she saw that she now wore a luscious purple mane that swept down a long neck towards slender shoulders. Her face was high and curved, perfectly proportioned with large eyes and a subtle mouth. She was an excellent specimen.

She turned back to him. “Thank you so much, sir!” she said. “Now we can be together finally, and we will both live out our days happily.” And she turned to leave.

“Hang on a moment,” he said behind her, and she stopped. His voice had not been happy or kind. “I don’t give away favours of this kind for nothing, my lady,” he continued, now striding forward to look her right in the eye. “That spell’s not going to last forever, and by tomorrow night you’ll be needing me again to keep you in that form.” His eyes were drawn into narrow, smirking slits, and the scorpion knew that he had her at his mercy.

“What do you want?” she asked, letting the innocence fall away from her face, so that her true nature shone through her eyes.

“Not yet,” he replied, and his voice had grown low and grave. “You won’t be able to do it until you’re the Queen, anyway. But remember this bond that keeps us together as you court him. When the ring falls around that horn of yours, I will come and ask this favour, or else your love will know everything that you truly are.”

“All right,” she said warily, and turned once more to leave. But inside she laughed at the old fool. For of course she would never love the King, who had robbed her of all that she had once loved, and once she was his Queen, it would not take long for her to accomplish her task. The old unicorn would never be able to collect on his investment.

The scorpion realized that she would not be able to spend her night in the garden as she was used to. After climbing up the steps from Star Light’s laboratory, she found herself in an unfamiliar part of the castle. It did not take long for her to run into one of the castle guards, who gave her a short look before nodding knowingly.

“You must be one of the fair ladies who has come in from the countryside to win His Majesty’s hoof,” he said, extending her a respectful bow. “Not sure what you’re doing so far from your quarters at this time of night, but allow me to escort you back to your room.”

Without a word, she followed along behind the guard, who eventually led her to a spacious bedroom on an upper tier of the castle. There she slept the night, and when she awoke, she took time to prepare her face and her mane, until it looked just like the ladies of the court used to when they would stroll through the garden.

Outside of her room she found the castle all in a hustle. Courtiers rushed about from door to door, and indeed one immediately grabbed her by the shoulder and hurried her downstairs and to the large audience chamber. There were already a large number indeed of high-bred mares from across the countryside gathered there, each dressed in their fineries in an attempt to catch the King’s eye. But they all paled in comparison to her, and as she stepped into the room and saw the looks that darted across their faces, she saw that they knew it too.

Shortly, once all of the mares had been assembled, the King himself entered, and the scorpion could not stifle a gasp as he did. Dressed in a flowing crimson robe, the King was more handsome than she had remembered him. She had always seen him up to his knees in soil, weeding his flowerbeds or watering his orchards. But now his brown mane shone like polished wood, and his regal features cast a nonchalant glare over the room. That was the other thing about him that the scorpion had not been expecting. Whenever she had seen him in his garden, and indeed when she had first met him in the desert, he had always worn a smile as bright as the stars. Now, he merely looked bored and restless.

When he had retreated to his throne, the courtiers began the process of introducing him to each of the assembled mares. The scorpion waited her turn expectantly, watching as he waved off each of the mares in front of her without even a glimmer of interest. Once it was her turn, she stepped up to the high dais, and bowed once to him. His face however, did not brighten.

“Presenting,” the courtier began beside her.

“The Lady Antares,” she finished for him, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously as she had seen all of the others do before her, “from the east.”

He sat up when she spoke. “Antares…” he repeated thoughtfully, his voice low and clear. “A strange name, that one is. You must have travelled far.”

Though she wanted to let him know just how far she had travelled, against her will and because of his, she merely smiled instead. “No distance is too great for a chance to meet you, Your Majesty.”

She willed him to return her grin, to fall for her charm just as Star Light had before him, but instead the King merely sat back into his chair, once more disinterested. “A pleasure to have met you, my lady,” he said in a voice flat as a board. And he waved her off to join the sea of other rejected mares.

That night, she returned to Star Light, as she knew she had to. She had spent the rest of the day thinking about what she could have done differently, and why the King had so simply passed over her great beauty. She had considered all that she knew about him, and watched him throughout the day, as she had used to watch him when he worked in the garden. She had seen how whenever he had a moment to spare, he would send a wistful gaze out the window of the audience chamber, toward the castle grounds, and toward his garden. It was then that she had had a new idea, as to what the King was really looking for in a wife, and how she would give it to him.

“I thought ya’ said ya’ loved him!” Star Light snarled to her as she came into his laboratory. “I hope you’re not thinking of blaming me for any o’ this! Now what do you want? You think you’re still any use to me when you’re not going to be Queen?”

“I am going to be Queen,” she answered calmly and assuredly when he had finished. “Leave the courting process to me. Just keep holding up your end of the bargain.”

The old unicorn looked significantly less certain of himself than he had the night before, but with a sigh he summoned up his magic and renewed his spell. Without another word, Antares left and climbed back up through the castle toward her chamber. Once there, she went right to the window and looked over the starlit grounds. From here she could see the entirety of the great garden, and the tall tree which stood there, seeming to mock her failure at winning the King’s heart, a heart that it already owned. “We’ll see,” she said to it, imagining what the garden would look like once the tree was gone.

That morning, Antares did not go down with the rest of the ladies to take another crack at the King. She did not put on any makeup or dress up her mane. She did not even dress at all. Instead, she made her way stealthily down through the floors of the castle, out to the garden, and slipped in. She stopped by the shed at its entrance to pick up a canteen of water. She planned to be here working for a while.

As she walked along a flowered path, she looked about at these surroundings from her new perspective. Everything seemed a lot smaller now that her eyes were so much higher off the ground. In her old life, every one of these plants had seemed tall and intimidating. Now, she could destroy any of them with but a small effort. It was refreshing knowledge, but she knew that she couldn’t destroy them today. That would come later. It did not take her long to find a flowerbed in need of some work. With the sun already high overhead, she reached down to do some weeding.

She was there alone, working silently for a few hours, before he came. She heard his whistle from up the path, a jaunty tune that brought back memories of the day that they had first met, when he had been the trespasser in her domain, about to take away from her everything that she held dear. As he came around the corner, she noticed that once again he was smiling, as if the dreariness of the court was now miles away behind him. When he saw her, though, he stopped.

“What under the stars do you think you’re doing?” he gasped at her, and began to run up to where she was. Quickly, Antares stood up and came out of the flowerbed. She bowed her head to him.

“My humblest apologies, Your Majesty. I should not have interfered. I saw only that some weeds were encroaching on these flowers, and I could not step away without tending to them. And then I noticed that they needed some water, and before long I had completely forgotten where I was.” She did not really know what she was saying; she was merely repeating what he often muttered to himself while he worked within the rows.

“But these are ice poppies, you fool!” he shouted as he arrived. “An untrained hoof digging around them could totally upset their root systems!” He knelt down to examine the flowerbed, a look of grave concern upon his face. Antares continued to stand contritely off to the side. She was well aware of how delicate the plants were, as they were some of his favourites. And he had shown her exactly how to properly weed their bed.

After a moment, he stood up again. “Pardon me, my lady,” he said. “It seems you know more about these plants than I gave you credit for. You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve grown rather protective of this garden over the years.”

Antares raised her head to look at him again. His smile was just beginning to return, a subtle tug at the corners of his mouth. But the stress that had been so plain upon his brow the previous day had all left him. “I understand, Your Majesty. In my youth I heard many legends of your great garden, and so today I ventured out to see it for myself. You truly have a wondrous collection of flora.”

Now he finally smiled again. “It seems you and I are some of the few unicorns that can truly appreciate things that grow in the earth. I have seen so many that care only for power, wealth, or material beauty. But here, in nature, here is where real beauty lies!”

The two of them walked on for some time, with him pointing out notable species as they happened across them, and her reciting noteworthy facts about them that she had learned from him or the other gardeners weeks ago. Duly, he was impressed by her knowledge of his trade.

Eventually, they approached the center of the garden, where the tree towered over all else that grew. It stood within a great ring of rough paving-stones, and other paths from each of the garden’s corners converged on this point from afar. Antares felt the anger burning deep in her heart as she approached it, but she hid it deeply, for the King beamed when his eyes found its sweeping branches. Instead, she breathed a wondrous gasp. “This is the legendary royal tree then?”

He nodded beside her. “The joy of my life. It was the beginning of all of this, the first plant that my father gave to me, when I was but a foal. He said to me, ‘My son, from this small sapling can grow a plant mightier than an army, if tended right. I give it to you as I see you delight in the work of your hooves, so that you might make something magnificent from it.’ And so I planted it here, upon this hill in what was blank countryside. And around it I tilled flower beds, and rows of vegetables, and orchards and vineyards. But never did I forget this tree. It was the start of everything.” And he turned to look at her, with a youthful grin. “Come, let us climb it!”

She accepted his outstretched hoof, and together the two ponies scaled the tall tree, jumping quickly between the low boughs before helping each other up from branch to branch as they climbed, ever higher, above the world. As the ground beneath them shrank away, Antares would occasionally look around her, to see the whole of the garden, then the castle, then the capital in its splendour. This was far higher than she had ever been in her life, and as the wind whipped through her mane, it lifted her heart too. For a moment, she forgot about her purpose. For a moment, she was just there with him, and all the rest of the world did not matter.

Finally, the two reached the apex of their ascent, beyond which the branches would no longer support their weight, and they sat, the King holding the trunk, and her with a hoof around his neck for support. The sun was moving lower, toward the western horizon, when he spoke again. “When I met you yesterday, Antares, I did not think that here was where I would see you next.”

She chuckled once, carefree. “I must apologize for that. I was foolish, in thinking that it was within that throne room that I would find the real you.”

It was his turn to laugh. “So you did come out here still trying to court me.”

His words came as a surprise; she had not intended to let a detail like that come to his attention. She had lost her focus, letting the bliss of this afternoon distract her from what her true purpose was. She quickly composed herself again and stole a glance at his face. But he did not look angry. Instead, he merely smiled a knowing grin. “I have told you how much I admire your pursuits, Your Majesty,” she replied.

“Please,” he returned gently. “Call me Jupiter.” And he pulled her closer to him. They sat there silently for some time, admiring the sun as it sank toward the horizon.

Finally, as twilight was beginning to descend over the garden, Jupiter spoke up. “You know that we cannot stay here forever, Antares.”

“I know, but I want to.”

“As much as I do too, I have a dinner to host. My kingdom needs me.”

Jupiter led her carefully down through the branches, and the two of them hurried back to the gates of the garden in silence. Just in front of the door that would take him back into the rest of the castle, Jupiter stopped.

“Shall I ever see you again in my audience chamber?” he asked.

Antares shook her head. It would not be wise for the other competitors for his hoof to know that she had the inside track. “I cannot stand those other ladies of the court.” But as she let go of his hoof, she gave him a wink. “There is plenty of work that the garden still needs, though.”

He watched her go for a long moment, and only once she had turned a corner in the distance did Jupiter shake his head to dislodge her memory, and proceed with the rest of his schedule.

Over the following weeks, they spent their afternoons together, working and exploring the garden. He showed her hidden places that she had not even known about before, and she offered him advice on properly caring for the plants native to the deserts. Antares found herself looking forward to those afternoons, not just as she knew that she was winning his heart, but even just because she enjoyed being with him, and sharing in his sense of humour, and working by his side to bring out the beauty of the space.

But every night, when she returned to her room, she would still look out her window at the tree which stood in the distance, and remember what it was that she was in this for. She made certain to rise after the sun, for the sunrise that she wanted to see was the one viewed from her home down in the garden. Even when she and Jupiter were together, she noticed that he was more comfortable if they worked within that tree’s vicinity and that he would steal a look at it whenever he could. Every night, it still seemed to mock her, insisting that no matter how deeply she delved into Jupiter’s heart, it still stood above her. She was still just a guest in a house that it owned, just a tenant who would move on, while it remained. “We’ll see,” she said to it every night, and worked all the harder the next day, to get it out of Jupiter’s mind.

Chapter 2: Queen Antares

Chapter 2: Queen Antares

Some moons later, as she had known that he would eventually, Jupiter revealed to the kingdom that he had chosen his Queen. The next few weeks were hectic, as their relationship became a far more public affair, but during the stressful time they would always look into each other’s eyes, and know that the other was thinking of the next day that they would spend, letting all of these troubles fall away, in the garden.

The evening after the ceremony, she walked down through the castle corridors. Her hooves were carrying her without her thought, going automatically in the same direction that she walked every night, as Antares thought of all that she had accomplished over the course of these months. Now that she was Queen, she was ready to put her plan into action and disappear from Jupiter’s life forever. It would be simple and quick, just as she had originally planned it. But now that she came to it a sudden doubt had entered her mind. To leave now would be to give up everything else that she had gained from the time that they had spent together.

Moreover, the image of Jupiter in her mind had shifted over the course of these months. Her vision of vengeance upon him for what he had taken from her had grown cloudy, for whatever he might have taken away, he had now given her all of this. He had given her his heart, open and free, a gesture which she had not returned. Their relationship was something that she had not expected, and it had created a new desire within her. Though she would never forget about her dawn, the challenge of becoming his one true love was an exciting one too. It was an amusing thought that her intentions for Jupiter had changed so much, but for the garden the end would still be the same.

When Star Light’s door swung open in front of her, the old unicorn was wearing a congratulatory smile. “How kind of ya’ to grace my humble abode with your presence, Your Majesty.”

She heard the sarcasm in his words. “Why thank you, Star Light. I told you that I would be Queen, didn’t I?”

Star Light bowed. “My humblest apologies, Your Majesty. Forgive my doubt in your powers of persuasion.” But when he raised his head, the glint had returned to his narrow eyes. “Perhaps the lady also remembers something else that was said between us, some moons ago. Or shall I have to repeat it?”

Antares’s heart skipped a beat. In the months that had gone by, as she and Jupiter had drawn close, she had forgotten about Star Light’s demand.

A gloating smile had arisen upon Star Light’s wrinkled old lips. “The great new Queen of the Unicorns, the love of the King’s life, is but a lowly scorpion of his garden, and only the two of us know it. Fitting, really, that the fool should fall for something from that wretched garden of his. But now that you’ve achieved your goal, it’s time for me to achieve mine.”

Star Light started to pace about in front of her. As he talked, his grin slowly morphed into a disgusted sneer. “I knew his father once. A great unicorn he was, a patron and scholar of the magical arts. He understood what value I brought to this kingdom. He appointed me to a noble office, high in the castle. He took my advice on all matters of import. But he raised a fool of a son.

“Jupiter cares more for the things that grow in his garden than he does for properly running his kingdom. He worries more about watering his vineyards than he does about administering trade. He has consigned me, his most experienced advisor, to this wretched hole in the ground while he wastes his time pruning that insipid tree of his! Now look at me! Just a shadow of my former power do I have, and I could barely lift my horn to help this kingdom if I was needed.” Star Light was livid now, the slits of his eyes seeming to glow as pinpoints of fire as he walked.

“He doesn’t even know what treasure he holds in his prized possession. His father got that tree in an expedition to the south. It is a magical tree; I can feel it from here. With its power, I could discover untold secrets of the world. I could do with this kingdom what Jupiter could never do. But the fool will not let me near it!” He paused, catching his breath for a second, and then brought his eyes down to her with a smirk.

“But you, Lady Antares, you have done what no other pony in the kingdom has done, save the King himself. You have touched his tree without any punishment. So you can now get me what I want.

“Every autumn a bountiful harvest of vibrant fruit falls from the branches of that tall tree. One taste of that fruit could restore my ailing powers and allow me to save this kingdom from that idiot of a King. But every year, all of the fruit goes to waste, for he will not let anypony touch it. Except, perhaps, for you.”

Star Light looked at her expectantly. Antares had listened calmly during his rant, assimilating the information as she heard it. Star Light clearly was trying to frighten her, so perhaps it was time that he knew just what he was dealing with. “Okay,” she answered, in the same delicate, innocent voice that she was used to using whenever she conversed with him. “But allow me to be absolutely clear,” she continued, letting all of that innocence fall away, so that her tone was now one of iron. “I do not love Jupiter, nor will I ever. He stole me away from my home, he took from me everything that I had held dear. My relationship with him means nothing to me. So go ahead, dear Star Light, turn me back into a scorpion. I will appreciate the distress that it causes him.”

Star Light’s eyebrows rose, and he took a faltering step backward. “But why then? What are you doing here?”

It was Antares’s turn to grin. “I wanted revenge on him just like you. You want the fruit of his tree? Why not take the seeds of that fruit and grow your own sapling, in a secret place? Then we’ll destroy his tree, and we’ll both get what we want.”

Star Light considered it for a second. “It could take years for the sapling to be able to produce fruit,” he noted.

“Then we’ll kill the tree slowly. Let it waste away over time, so that Jupiter suffers.” Maybe then he’ll turn to me, and we can finally be truly together, she did not say. “Give me a spell that can sap the tree’s life and wither it away year after year, so that by the time your sapling is fully grown, we can finish it easily. And every year I will deliver you the harvest of the original. So, do we have a deal?”

Once again the old unicorn thought for a moment, but Antares knew that he would agree. The plan gave him everything that he wanted, and it would do exactly what she wanted too, though not in the way that Star Light would think. With that tree out of his life, Jupiter would have no choice but to turn to her, accepting her as his true love. She would have her final revenge.

Finally, Star Light nodded. “The harvest is beginning next month,” he said. “By that time I shall have a spell prepared for you.”

“Good.”

The next day, when she and Jupiter were out tending the garden, as they did every afternoon, she stole a glance up at the great tree and noticed that indeed there were the beginnings of fruits growing upon its branches. They were a pale red colour, still small and unripe, but there were definitely a great many of them.

He followed her gaze. “Yes, my dear,” he said. “The harvest season is about to begin. The garden grows heavy with nature’s bounty.”

“What do you do with its fruit?”

“That tree?” He was surprised, as though nopony had ever asked him the question before. “I let them fall. It is the only tree in the garden that I do not harvest, because I do not grow it for what it can give me. It means more to me than just its fruit.”

An expression had grown on his face, the expression of wistful longing that she so detested, for Jupiter never directed it towards her. He always looked at his garden as though he wanted to stay there forever and forget about the rest of the world. Though the two of them always enjoyed themselves while they were together, it was never the same if they weren’t together here.

She decided to take a small risk. “I might fancy one of them.”

He chuckled, and then went back to his work without paying her a second glance. “I suppose you might.”

She bristled at his flippant tone of voice. “Jupiter, I was being serious. It is such a waste to let the fruit of such a mighty tree fall to the ground unused.”

“But it is a special tree, dear Antares. It means more to me than its fruit. It is all that I’ve worked towards in this space. It--”

“Yes, yes, I know the story of the tree,” she replied with a slight roll of her eyes. “But do I mean nothing to you? I am not asking for the world.”

“Antares, please, don’t ask me to make that choice.” His eyes were pleading her.

“Why?” she demanded. “Because you wouldn’t choose me?”

“You know it’s not like that,” he said. But his face said otherwise.

“It’s just a bit of fruit, Jupiter,” she said, turning away from him. “This garden is just plants. What we have is worth more than soil. It’s worth more than wood. At least it is to me.” She forced a tear out of her eye as she took one last look back at him. “I thought that it meant the same to you.” And she turned and walked away from him.

Inside, Antares was in turmoil. She felt guilty for having browbeaten him so. She knew how much this garden meant to him, how much he would and should cherish it. She knew that it ultimately was his decision what he did with the fruit of his trees. But she also knew that she needed that fruit. Otherwise Star Light would not give her the magic that she needed to remove his tree from his mind. If he truly did love this garden more than he loved her, then she was just going to have to take it from him. The two of them could never be happy while she had to compete for his heart.

She left the garden behind, walking straight on up into the castle. There was no echo of hoof on flagstone behind her, no indication that Jupiter was coming to console his wife. But Antares knew that he would come eventually. And so she settled herself down by the fireplace in his study, and she waited.

It was getting into the early evening when she heard the clopping of his hooves on the floor of the hall. She did not turn to look at him, instead continuing to gaze intently into the fire. His hoofsteps came slowly forward, much more slowly than normal. Antares did not smile, but she knew that this meant he had been thinking hard about their conversation. When the sound stopped, she turned around slowly to face him.

Jupiter stood in front of her, still dirty and tousled from his time outside. When she saw him, Antares had to resist a smile that wanted to come to her lips, because she was suddenly reminded of the first evening that they had spent together, high above the city after an afternoon of work and talk. But she remained silent.

“Antares,” he said after a few seconds had gone by, his voice contrite. “I’m sorry.” She did not react. “You mean more to me than a flower, more to me than a fruit, more to me than a tree,” he continued. “Before I met you, I was only happy when I was with nature, either here in the garden, or elsewhere in my travels. But I’ve realized that even then I wasn’t happy. I was just looking, trying to occupy myself in order to forget that I was still missing something.”

He took a tentative step forward and smiled a small, entreating smile. “But when I met you, I found that thing that I had been missing. I didn’t see it at first; indeed I don’t believe that I saw it at all until today. After you left me earlier, I tried to go back to my work, like I always used to do before. I tried to occupy myself with those things that had always been able to make me happy. But it wasn’t the same.

“What we have is special, and it’s more than anything that I could ever have without you. The garden means as much to you as it does to me, I know. If you want the fruit of my tree, it is your right to have it.” And he bowed his head respectfully toward the floor.

Once again fighting to suppress a tear that attempted to blossom at the corner of her own eye, Antares rose, stepped forward to him, and gently reached under his chin with a forehoof. She raised his head up until he was looking directly into her eyes. “I’m sorry too,” she said, the cracking in her voice betraying more than she was saying. “I understand what that fruit means to you and your family.” And she reached forward and kissed him, seeking forgiveness in his embrace, forgiveness for the crimes that he could never know about, for the things that she had done, and for the things that she was going to do. And he returned her embrace, simply, lovingly, a genuine tear in his eyes.

When their mouths separated, Antares looked once more into his face. Jupiter was smiling again. “The harvest begins next month,” he said. “Normally, I host a ceremony in my garden to start it off. This year, you can be the first to pick the fruit of my tree.”

“I will consider it the greatest honour you could bestow on me,” she answered. Better even than the day you married me, she thought to herself, for today I have truly gained a foothold in your heart. Today I have taken a step to truly being your wife. And for the rest of the evening she smiled. But her heart was heavy.

The next weeks until the harvest passed quickly, for there was much to do in the garden to prepare for the upcoming days of reaping. Most of the time, Antares was able to forget about the upcoming day of fate, since she sensed a change working itself slowly over Jupiter’s manner. No longer did the two merely work together in his rows and vineyards. He understood now that they were her plants, just as much as they were his, and he was willing to let her work there without his supervision.

The evenings were the hardest, for she would then be forced to confront that other side of her life. The glee that displayed itself upon Star Light’s twisted visage every time that she came down to his chambers reminded her painfully every time of what she was about to do. But there was no escape from it, for renouncing the old wizard’s deal meant she would lose Jupiter forever. And now she couldn’t lose him, she couldn’t think even of going one day without his comforting presence beside her. At least, as she continued down this path, she would always have that. At least they would be together.

The first day of the harvest began early, without no time for contemplation or thought. There were matters of dress and ceremony to conform to. The day was bright and clear, as befit a holiday of its impressive magnitude, but even the brilliance of the sun shining hot in the sky could do nothing to dissolve the shadow that hung impenetrable over Antares’s heart.

She stood now with Jupiter out in the garden, at the center of the assembled multitude of his court. All around them, the garden was glowing with its produce, fruit and berry glittering in the light of the morning, and smelling of sweet heaven. All across the nation, farmers and gardeners were waiting expectantly for her cue, for her to reach out and grasp the first fruits of the year, and signal the beginning of the harvest.

She and Jupiter stood just within the boughs of the spreading colossus, its branches and its bounty all about and above them. The smell of its ripe produce was intoxicating, and so, standing there with him, Antares was able to put the thought of Star Light out of her mind. For now, she was just here with the stallion she loved.

After he had said his short preamble, Jupiter looked across to her. “Whenever you’re ready, Antares,” he said, with a carefree smile upon his face. And the simplicity of his smile hit her harder than a thousand blows, but still she took solace in it, and reaching out with her magic she plucked a beautiful, ripe, yellow fruit from where it hung. She brought it down to just in front of her face, and then, closing her eyes, she took a small tentative bite. The juice of it was sweet, pleasant and watery. She felt a sudden rush of energy sweep through her as she swallowed, surely the result of the magic in it that Star Light so desired.

When Antares opened her eyes again, Jupiter was standing beside her. When she noticed that he also had taken a bite of the fruit, she gasped, but he just laughed. “It really is a magnificent taste, my dear,” he said. “Quite the shame that I have missed out on it all of these years. I think that we ought to harvest the whole tree.”

“Indeed,” she nodded back to him. “Every week, we should take out some of our store and celebrate again.” And every week, Star Light will also get his wish. But she did not think of such things now. She only looked into Jupiter’s eyes, willing herself to remember the joyfulness of this moment, whenever that darkness tried to impose itself upon her.

Jupiter grabbed ahold of her shoulders with a foreleg, and, raising the plucked fruit high above them, he cried out to the assembled court, “I declare that this year's Harvest Season has officially begun! Go, and gather the year’s produce!” Then he turned back to Antares, embracing her lovingly. And she did the same to him.

The joy in her heart was able to last most of the day, until finally she found herself once again making the same forlorn trek down into the castle’s depths that she so resented. She carried aloft a gleaming fruit from the tree’s harvest, the first of many that she knew she would deliver down this path, the payment that she would have to make, in order to continue her life as Queen. Even though the way grew darker as she delved deeper underground, the lustre of the fruit’s skin did not diminish, and even as she carried it over the threshold of that dark chamber, still it shone as beautifully as when she had first plucked it lovingly from its home.

Star Light’s eyes lit up with a fiery glimmer when he saw her. When she stepped forward to give the fruit to him, the old unicorn took it gently from the grasp of her magic. Almost reverently, he carried it over to his workplace, where he had cleared a special spot in amongst the rest of his vials and scrolls. “Yes,” he said, his voice a husky whisper, “finally, here is some real magic, something that Jupiter could never appreciate for its true power. But soon, he will learn his mistake.” He looked up at Antares, still standing nonchalantly by the doorway. “How much do you have?”

“Enough to last until next year, if I give you one a week.”

Tentatively, Star Light took a nibble from the fruit. Then, with a sudden viciousness, he grabbed ahold of it and took a great bite out of its centre. The speed and violence with which he ate were things that Antares had never seen from him before, and for just a moment, it frightened her. When he finally spit the seeds back out onto the table, the glimmer was back in his eyes, but it was stronger than before. “Once a week will do, I suppose,” he said, his voice louder and clearer now. “These belong to you.” And he passed her the seeds.

“I have a location picked out,” she said. “A lonely spot away from the town. Jupiter will never know about it.” She turned then to leave, letting out a deep breath. The sooner that she could get out of this place, the better.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Star Light called after her. When she turned around, he had a leering, contemptuous grin on his face. “I doubt you’ll make it out to your little spot if you turn back into a scorpion halfway there. Allow me to assist you.” With a flick of his horn, he had renewed his magic.

“And this too,” he said, now summoning a haze of red magic about his horn. “I’m rather proud of it. The effect might seem miniscule at first, but of course we want the tree to keep producing fruit until ours is ready. Slowly, it will sap the plant’s energy and waste it away to nothing. I’m sorry that I won’t be able to see the look on the King’s face.” He released the spell into her, and Antares felt its essence suffusing her being. It brought with it an uncomfortable warmth, as though Star Light had built all the heat of his personal anger into it. She tried to summon up any shred of the hatred that had gotten her to this place, but found only a dark emptiness where it had once resided in her soul.

“Thank you, Star Light,” she said, keeping her voice even, though she wanted to be out of here more than anything else in the world. “Have a good evening.”

“Cheer up, my lady!” he called after her, “Revenge is a happy thing, isn’t it?” Antares did not have to look back to see the disgusting smile on his face or the hate in his eyes. She was afraid, but at least it was done, for now.

Outside, it was dark, and a breeze whistled through the trees of the garden. Feeling the heat of the magic on her horn, she stole a quick glance into the trees. Now was the time to do it.

As she walked among the rows, the garden seemed now an unfamiliar place. She had first experienced it during the dark, those many moons ago, and she realized that though she still looked as beautiful as she did during the day, she walked now among the plants as her true self, as a creature of the night in a place that did not want her. She had once again become an outsider, a guest in a house that Jupiter owned. Everywhere she looked, she saw memories of the days past, memories of her and Jupiter working alongside each other. But it seemed like it wasn’t herself that she remembered as having been there, but someone else, someone else that loved him purely and openly and didn’t have to worry about the secrets that she carried around with her now in the darkness.

At length, she came to the garden’s centre, where the wide ring of paving-stones encircled the great tree. As she looked up to its soaring heights, she was reminded of how its tall image had started her down this road, and once again she imagined what the place would look like without it. There would be just a hole here, a barren spot where something was clearly intended to be, but it would be missing.

Desperately, she thought of Jupiter. She remembered why she was doing this, that if she didn’t, then she would never see him again, that this was the only way that she could keep them together. And she knew that she couldn’t possibly survive without him. So, she summoned up Star Light’s spell, and reluctantly she let it loose to do its work upon the tree. It flickered once evilly in the air, and then rushed out to envelop the branches and trunk of the great behemoth.

Finally, Antares allowed herself to release that solitary tear.

Chapter 3: Reaper's Rise

Chapter 3: Reaper’s Rise

As the moons went by, Antares soon forgot about that night. Autumn faded into winter, giving way to bright spring and glorious summer. She and Jupiter went back to their normal routine, working together by day, enjoying each other’s company. During the day, they were just like they had been before, simple, honest, and pure. It was only during the evening that she had to once again confront who she really was, and remember that it was all only temporary.

Still, as the months turned to years, Antares held on to hope. Even once Star Light’s magic had done its work, she would convince Jupiter to let go. The two of them would still have each other, they would still have their love. They would still be together. But there was no point in thinking about that now. Every year, as autumn began, and the harvest once more sat ready to start, they would return, to pick the first fruits together, and in her mind Antares would celebrate that anniversary, when their marriage truly began.

Eventually, of course, Star Light’s magic made its presence known. It began slowly, a few dead branches here and there, themselves inconsequential amongst the magnitude of the tree’s girth. But she knew that they were only the beginning.

She awoke with a start in their shared bedroom. It was still dark outside, and the open window allowed a gentle breeze into the room. But the silence of the night was not absolute, and borne on the breeze, Antares could hear the sounds of a shovel at work in the garden, along with a few whistles, as Jupiter went about his work. She could not see him from the window, but she knew where he would be. With a sigh, she threw on a light coat before making her way down to the ground floor.

These sorts of awakenings had become more common for her over the years. As the slow decay had accelerated upon his tree, Jupiter had begun working harder and harder to care for it. He stayed in the garden long into the evening, and had gotten up earlier and earlier to tend to it. To her dismay, rather than taking refuge in her steadfast love, he had started wistfully gazing towards his garden again, whenever the two of them were together indoors.

Antares could not blame him, knowing what the garden meant to him. If she imagined herself in his place, she knew that she would want to do everything that she could to save the things she loved. But she knew that his struggle was futile. Though every facet of her being cried that she should help him in his fight, Antares knew that nothing either of them did would prevent that tree’s ultimate fate.

She had to make Jupiter see. She had to make him let go. She had to make him accept that it would be gone, that they would only have each other from now on. Antares stood now on the brink of achieving everything, of fully capturing Jupiter’s heart, and yet with the choice now lying in front of her, she felt no incentive to take it. But there was no other way.

She found him exactly where she knew he would be. Jupiter was carefully tending the soil inside the ring of stone at the center of the garden, right in beneath the boughs. He wore a carefree smile, but Antares knew that his happiness was not genuine, and that he hid an anxiety that ran deep within him, an anxiety that she knew would destroy him eventually if left to fester. A pile of yellowing, decaying branches and leaves was behind him, ready to be taken off and burned.

Antares stood on the ring of stone, not announcing her presence. She waited while Jupiter, still whistling, made certain that the soil had precisely the right temperature, moisture, and texture. When he finally looked up and noticed her, he grinned wide. “Antares, my dear! Come on! There’s plenty to do.”

Antares remained looking at him. His face and legs were all stained with mud and clay, and his mane was unkempt, dripping with sweat as he stood there. But he looked happy, and she wanted to join him, just like she would during the day. Not tonight though. Tonight it was time to do what she knew she had to.

“Jupiter,” she said, her voice soft and tender, “why don’t you come back to bed? It’s lonely in the castle without you.”

“Nonsense,” he replied, “here is where I belong, and I just hadn’t noticed it before. I’ve been neglecting this place, and it’s been going to tatters. I’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“Leave it to the morning, dear. You need to get your rest.”

Jupiter put down his shovel and walked over to her. “Why rest when I can work?” he asked innocently, but then his voice became more serious. “But this doesn’t sound like you, my love. Is something wrong?”

Antares resisted the urge to laugh. “I’m worried about you,” she said. “You spend nearly all of your time here. What about the rest of the kingdom? Ponies need to see you and have you settle their disputes. And you can’t do that if you don’t get any rest.”

Jupiter looked off toward the castle. “They don’t need me!” he said, chuckling. “They know how much I detest all of that, and figured out how to live without me years ago. This—” and he turned back to her, sweeping a foreleg out over all of the garden “—this is where I belong. And you belong here by my side.”

As he spoke, Antares suddenly remembered Star Light and what he had said about the King: “He cares more for his garden than properly administering his kingdom.” More than anything else, she finished with her own thoughts. How could she change that? Was it her right to change that? “If it’s going to kill you, maybe this isn’t where you belong, dear. You’ve accomplished so much here; maybe you should take a step back and remember the rest of your life.” Remember me.

Jupiter put his leg across her shoulders and turned her around to look her in the eye. “What are you saying, Antares?” His eyes entreated her, wide open and clear. “This isn’t like you. This garden is everything, it’s what we have together, it’s what we share.”

She twisted away from him. “What about our love, Jupiter? It’s more than just this garden, isn’t it?”

Jupiter looked down as her words struck him. When he looked up again, his expression was more contrite. “I’m sorry, Antares, but you must understand what all of this means to me. It must mean the same to you.”

“I do, and I’m telling you that you’re wrong!” she shot back at him, feeling a sudden rush of anger course through her. All her years of working her way into his heart, all of her frustrations at his blind devotion to these plants, which gave him back nothing, when she would have given him everything, all of it came to the front of her mind, and demanded to be let out. “Forget this cursed garden for one day of your life! Remember who you are as a stallion, as a King, as a husband! We can be happy together, Jupiter, without all of this!”

Jupiter took a step back from her outburst, but his eyebrows remained high above his eyes, and his voice remained confused. “How can you say that? Every day we work here together. We met here. This garden binds us together, more surely than any ring. We can’t give it up.”

“Well, you have to, Jupiter! Can’t you see that your tree is dying? Can’t you see that nothing you or I can do is going to save it? Can’t you see that there is nothing left for you here? I am all that you have now!”

He did not answer her. Indeed, he merely looked up at the behemoth that stood before them, searching it with his eyes. Antares guessed that her words had hit their marks. Finally, he understood. She walked back to him slowly, and placed a tender, comforting hoof around his neck. “I’m very sorry, dear. But you know that I had to say it.” And she leaned her head against his shoulder lovingly.

But instead of returning her embrace, Jupiter stepped away. Still not looking at her, he whispered, “Why would you say such a thing, unless…” Antares felt suddenly nervous, for his voice had not been kind, nor tender nor caring. It had been cold, reasoning and rational.

She tried to step in close to him again, but as she approached, he whirled and fixed her with a steely glare. Within his eyes she found many things that he had never directed at her before. They were eyes of distrust, eyes of suspicion, eyes of fear. But Antares was the one who was now afraid. “Jupiter?” she implored him in a shaky voice.

“What is it that you want, Antares?” he asked in a tone of ice. “What is it that you’ve ever wanted?”

“To love you!” she cried to him desperately. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be with you, and this is no different! There is nothing for you here, nothing but your destruction.”

He looked back to his tree. “I thought that I had met the real you when I saw you here, in the trees. How long did you play me? How long have you wanted nothing but to get me away from here?”

Antares hid her fear, letting out the last of her anger as hot tears of sorrow burned down her cheeks. “It’s useless, all your work!” she cried. “Your tree is dying! It can’t be saved!”

But then he fixed her with an angry stare, and his eyebrows drew close together. “How do you know that?” he said, anger rising in his tone. Antares slipped down onto her knees, unable to bear the ferocity of his gaze.

“How do you know that?” he repeated, now shouting at her with the intensity of a gale. Antares could only sob.

“Please,” she croaked to him gently, unable to raise her eyes to see him, blazing with the fire of his rage. “Please,” she whispered, whilst she cried, tears of sorrow for their lost love, tears of anger at herself for betraying him, tears of grief, that this had to be how it would end. “Please.” But she could think of nothing else to say.

Finally, Jupiter looked away and exhaled deeply, letting go of his anger. When she heard his breath, Antares raised her eyes to look at him, though she could barely see through the rain that fell from her eyes. When he turned down to her again, the expression on his face was just as it had been when they had first met in his throne room: bored and disinterested, and it terrified her. “I don’t ever want to see you here again,” he said, his tone vapid and expressionless. Then he turned and left, walking slowly through the garden and not once looking back.

Antares couldn’t move. She lay there, weeping uncontrollably for everything. The plants offered no help. Indeed, they stood over her as righteous victims, gloating that their destroyer had finally been unmasked. She could not look at them. She hated them for their unbreakable hold on Jupiter’s heart. She hated Star Light for forcing her into this perilous position. But more than any she hated herself, for not having the strength to stand with him, even when she knew it would be futile, for not having the courage to let him live his life, and live along with him in love. Jupiter, though, she could not hate, despite everything that she had once blamed him for. Whatever he had once done to her now paled in comparison to all that she had done to him. If anypony deserved vengeance in this world, it was he, not she. Finally, as afternoon turned to evening, she gathered herself up and left, quickly, heading straight for Star Light’s quarters.

She could not go on like this. There was no longer anything holding her here, there was no longer any reason that she needed Star Light’s help. Jupiter would never again let her close to him, and without his love, there was no reason for her to exist. Antares barged through the door to the underground chamber loudly, finding Star Light bent in thought over a book on his workbench.

“We’re through, Star Light,” she announced loudly, still breathing hard from her run here from the garden.

“Is that so?” he said nonchalantly, without looking up.

“I’ll do no more of your dirty work for you, and I’ll carry on no further with our deal. Find your own way to get your damn fruit!”

“I suppose I could.”

“You’ll have to!” she yelled into his ear, glad that she could take out her anger on somepony. And it had mostly been Star Light’s fault that things had gone as they did.

“And what about you, Your Majesty?” His shrewd tone had not wavered, nor had he yet looked up to acknowledge her.

“I don’t care what happens to me! Let me turn back into a scorpion, or whatever. But I’ll never work for you again.”

“Hmm.”

Antares wheeled on him, her anger intensifying at this old fool’s unwillingness to even pay her any notice. She grabbed him by the collar and roughly turned him around so that she could see his face. “Are you even listening to me, you old goat?”

Antares gasped and let go of Star Light. For looking at her now was not the shriveled and twisted face she had known, but a youthful, clear set of eyes positioned over a well-toned nose and mouth. Star Light smiled a wide grin filled with gleaming white teeth. “Old goat,” he chuckled in a deep, clear voice. “Not quite, my dear scorpion, thanks to you. But I do find your words troubling.” As he stepped forward, he let his cloak fall away to reveal a full, straight mane falling down over a powerful neck. No longer did his gait have its usual limp and sway, instead his steps were direct and precise.

Antares backed away from him, all of her anger suddenly draining out of her. She had not noticed a change creeping over the old wizard these past years; she had done her best not to notice him at all, when she came down here to have him do his work. The magical fruit had clearly done more for him than she had suspected it would.

“You have been kind to me,” Star Light continued, “very kind indeed. I would thank you, if I didn’t know that you weren’t doing it for me. You wanted your revenge, Antares, isn’t that right? You wanted Jupiter to suffer just like I did. Well, we are very close to getting there, aren’t we? Why the change of heart?”

“That’s none of your business,” Antares stammered back to him, trying not to meet his gaze. “I’ve had enough and I’m terminating our—”

“Do you think I care what happens to you?” Star Light shouted at her. The lights in the room dimmed perceptibly, as though they had suddenly run short on fuel, and the fire in Star Light’s eyes now illuminated his face in sharp relief from within. “Do you think I need you, you rotten creature? Do you think that you’re threatening me?” He laughed, as if he had just made a joke. The sound echoed off of the bare rock walls of the chamber, seeming to surround her. For the first time since they had met, Antares once again felt small and insignificant in Star Light’s presence.

“That’s funny, you see,” he said when he had finished. “A little animal like you, who owes me for everything, now wants to hold it over me, like it gives her power!” He flicked his horn, and there was a flash of bright teal magic. Antares winced, but after a second she looked down and realized that Star Light had merely renewed his spell, like he had done every night previously. “Count yourself lucky I let you keep on living. I don’t need anything from you, but I won’t kill you if I don’t have to,” he said as he turned and stepped back to his work. “Now get out of my sight! I have planning to do.”

Antares turned and ran, not stopping until she stood once more in her old room, the one that she had occupied when she had first started to court Jupiter’s hoof. Not surprisingly, she found her personal effects on the floor, where her husband had unceremoniously dumped them. Antares didn’t care. She sat down on the edge of her bed, with her head cradled in her hooves. She wanted to cry again, but felt like all of her emotions had already been drained out of her. Now she had nothing left. She was trapped, with nothing to hold her in this life, but nothing to return to in the other. And Star Light standing menacingly in the way between them, only grinning and laughing his cold, grim, maniacal laugh. What was there still to do?

Through the open window, she could once again hear a whistle from the garden, itself a gruesome reminder of the way that the day had started, still so hopeful and full of life. She tried to feel some relief knowing that Jupiter was happy again, as he toiled anew with his plants, but she knew that he would feel empty too, working alone once more. And now his mind would hold that seed of doubt, planted by her own words, telling him that everything was in vain. She had destroyed him. But even though this had been the purpose that had set her off down this road, it brought her no happiness, only a deep, empty sorrow.

His whistle from the garden continued to torment her as the moons once more passed by. In public, the two of them remained King and Queen, settling disputes, welcoming dignitaries, and celebrating banquets. But in private, Jupiter acted as if they had never met. She could watch the progress of his decline from the window of her bedroom, for she never did go down into the garden while he worked there. The magic continued to do its work, and Antares began to notice its effect on Jupiter as well as the months went on. He grew more listless and less energetic. The spark of adventurous enthusiasm left him. Eventually, one morning she awoke in pleasant silence, and realized that his whistle was nowhere to be heard. She never heard it again.

The two of them continued keeping their anniversary, officially opening the harvest by plucking the first fruit of his tree. At first, the general happiness of the occasion was enough to lift Antares’s heart, but soon, as Jupiter’s melancholy grew, it became a solemn memory for her as well, and she found herself just blankly going through the motions.

Twenty more years had passed when she awoke once more, on the day that she would set off another harvest. The sky outside was dreary and overcast, and the world seemed grey, devoid of all life. Outside her room she found a collection of courtiers, and the morning was, as usual, occupied with preparations and ceremony. After a short luncheon, she walked at the head of the procession into the garden.

She had to duck as she entered, since the entryway had become overgrown with hanging branches and tall grass. In fact she had to watch her step the whole length of the path, for the flagstones had been split and broken by weeds that had grown up around them. The garden around her reflected the lifelessness of the sky overhead, its new bare patches punctuating the decay of the flowerbeds, no longer cared for, the orchards, no longer watered, the vineyards, no longer pruned. Stretches of sand now dominated what had once been beautifully architected flowers and vegetables. Coarse knots of vegetation still struggled on, scratching out an existence in the wasteland that had once been a bountiful paradise. She could barely detect a faint smell of fruit, a tantalizing whiff on the dull breeze that wafted through the place.

Seeing the devastation, Antares did her best not to cry. This is all his fault, she said to herself weakly, knowing that it wasn’t true. You always did the right thing, she tried to repeat, knowing that she had earned this reward, that this was her heart, reflected into the world for everypony to see. She had taken his garden away from him, and she had remade it in her own image. The desert around her was exactly what a scorpion would want.

In the middle of the space, the ring of stone still stood, though now cracked and broken. In its centre, barely visible amidst the tufts of weeds that grew here and there, a single bright yellow fruit was visible, dangling precariously from the branches of a worn sapling, all that now remained of the once-mighty tree. It had fought on bravely in the fight that it couldn’t win, and still valiantly put forth all of its effort into this one last offering, the final spark of beauty in a world that had died around it. The group stopped outside the circle, and Antares walked on until she stood beside the tree. With a bare effort, she plucked the fruit from the branch. “The harvest has begun,” she said. There was scattered applause.

Thunder rumbled overhead, announcing the onset of a cold, drizzling rain that followed it only by seconds. Antares didn’t care. What difference did it make whether it rained or not? Whether the Sun shone or the clouds darkened the sky forever? Whether the world bloomed or the plants died away in the soil and there was nothing but wind and sand left? None of it mattered if she was alone.

She jerked up her head and scanned the crowd, realizing suddenly that Jupiter wasn’t there. Normally, he wouldn’t have spoken to her, would have done everything possible to avoid contact with her during this necessary ceremony, before once again going back to pretending that she didn’t exist. She had been so consumed by her own grief that she had not even noticed that today, he was truly absent.

“Where is Jupiter?” she asked the nearest pony of the court, who was just then turning to leave along with the rest of the onlookers.

He looked surprised at her question. “His Majesty took ill a week ago, Your Majesty,” he replied. “We have not seen him in some time.”

Antares suddenly felt cold. “Take me to him at once!” she commanded, clutching the fruit close to her heart, as a desire to see him suddenly awakened deep within her.

Again the stallion looked surprised. “His Majesty wishes not to be disturbed. If he sends for you, I will let you know, my Queen.”

“I’m his wife, you fool!” she answered back quickly, not willing to let herself understand the fear that now coursed through her veins. “I need to see him, to be at his side.”

“I suppose so,” he agreed after a moment’s thought. “This way, please.”

As she walked through the intensifying storm, Antares tried to avoid thinking about the feeling that she knew drove her now to Jupiter’s side. She tried to avoid seeing once again the progression of his fall, how he had increasingly taken absent from his public duties, how the kingdom had slowly forgotten his image, how she had seen this end coming. He is merely not feeling well, she said to herself, but knew it wasn’t true. And she held the fruit even closer to her chest, as if it were her last link to him, as if it could bring back the memories of the times that she had lost.

Inside his chambers there was silence, except for the pattering of raindrops on the roof. The guards at the door to his bedroom required some additional convincing to let her in, but eventually they acquiesced and stepped aside, allowing her into the room. When she saw him, Antares felt her heart skip a beat.

Jupiter lay face up on their old bed, the regal sheets drawn up close to his neck. He looked pale, and seemed far older than she had ever seen him before. Worries and cares hung about his face in stern lines, and his eyes were half-closed, hanging down with stress. The stallion that she had loved could not be seen, but somehow she felt that he was still there, that just as he could hide himself when he was in the court, so too he remained, waiting to jump back to his work.

Antares walked slowly up to the side of the bed, with every step willing him to turn and look into her eyes, for that eternal spark to rekindle in his face, for all of the past twenty years to be erased. But he did not turn.

With a sigh, she put the fruit down on his nightstand. Over the course of the past twenty years, she had wished for a moment like this, a chance to set right her mistakes, a chance to be open, to rectify the break in their relationship. But now it seemed too late. Words would not be enough to heal Jupiter’s heart. Still, she knew that they had to be said.

“You were right, Jupiter,” she began, slowly, searching for each word in the depths of her mind, knowing that each one had to be perfect. “It was not the real me that you fell in love with, nor was it she that you met when we were together outside. If you ever saw the real me, you would not even recognize her.” She paused, waiting for any response. If he heard her, he did not indicate it, and so Antares pressed on.

“We first met far away from here, in the deserts of the east. I was no pony back then, but merely a scorpion whom you scooped up and delivered here, into your great garden. But, great though your garden was, it was not my home, and I resented what you had done. I wanted to take away what you had loved, as you took away those things from me.

“The Lady Antares first came to exist some moons later, when I made a deal with your court wizard, Star Light the Bright. He also resented you, and was willing to work with me to destroy you.” Antares paused. She found it hard to believe that her next sentence was actually true. “Back then, it was only your suffering that I wanted, and I planned to gain your love, then disappear, and observe your torture from afar.

“But as I got to know you, I understood you as more than the stallion that I had resented on our first meeting. I came to understand your love of nature, your free spirit, your gentleness and your kindness. You were not the pony that I had so detested.

She found herself speaking faster now, as the words, now started, welled up inside her, a torrent that she had kept back for far too long. “When we were wed, I found that I could not leave your side. You were more to me than I realized then, but I thought that perhaps you did not know it. You were so attached to the plants of your garden that I grew envious of them. I wanted to destroy them, so that you and I could have each other, so that nothing could interfere with our love.

“So I did. Star Light gave me magic that would slowly destroy your garden over time, and I hoped that you would see, as the years went on, that there was nothing for you there any more. That you would see that I was all that you had left.

“But you wouldn’t give it up! As the years went by, I grew worried for you. Your work would destroy you, I knew, for the harder you tried, the less good it would do. I couldn’t stand by and let you come to ruin. I thought that if I stepped in, I could save you from that fate.

“You saw me then for who I really was, but that wasn’t me anymore. I started down this journey with nothing but darkness in my heart, but then as I got to know you, that darkness was replaced by love. Now, since I have lost you, I have nothing left.

“But you were right. The pony that you loved didn’t exist. She never has and she never will. Now you know all that I am.”

“Oh, shut up, Antares!” She jerked her head up to look at him, but Jupiter did not look angry. He had sat up in bed to look at her, and a tear had sprouted from his eye. “Don’t you remember anything of when we were together?” he said, his voice kind and tender. “What we had was real. I felt it, and I know you felt it too. How could the mare I loved not exist, if I could know her for so long?”

His words made her stop and think for a second. Jupiter was right, about all of the time that they had spent together. But it was gone, irretrievably. “It was all a lie. Your wife was nothing but magic drawn over your eyes.”

He held out a weak, trembling hoof to her. With a tremor of her own running through her muscles, Antares reached out and grasped it. “Maybe it began that way,” he said. “But if all that you’ve said is true, at some point that changed. Whether or not the mare I loved ever existed in reality, she was always very real in my heart.”

“But we can never go back. What could we go back to?”

Jupiter chuckled, and a thin smile came to his face. “You always used to wonder why it wasn’t enough for the two of us to be together. Maybe it can be, for once. Today was the start of harvest, wasn’t it?”

The sight of the smile on his face steadied her, like a sturdy post that she could grab ahold of. “Yes. I have the harvest fruit here.” She picked it up again from the table and passed it to him.

Jupiter took a bite, and a bit of colour returned to his complexion. ”You were the first one to show me just how much I had missed,” he said.

“No, it was you who first showed me what I was missing,” she replied, thinking back to the first time that she had lost herself in his company, that first afternoon long ago, when she had forgotten her plots, forgotten her lies and secrets, for one blissful day, when the two of them had just been together.

Jupiter smiled knowingly as he watched her. “Whatever I said, I knew when I met you outside that I was seeing the real you. I knew it the moment I saw you in the garden, and I knew it even more as we lived and worked together. These twenty years…” He sighed, letting out all the tribulations of his exile in that one single breath. “I missed you, Antares.”

A tear bloomed upon her cheek as she reached down to him and turned his head to face her. There was silence between them, as they gazed long into each other’s faces. Then she kissed him, solemnly, slowly, wishing that it would never end, while knowing that this was the end, and it was the only end that could be. “I love you,” she said to him once their lips had parted.

“I love you,” he returned, and then he closed his eyes, looking as though he were merely dropping off to a contented sleep. And maybe, just maybe, Antares could believe that.

She stayed by his side for some time, thinking. The pony that Jupiter loved didn’t exist, she knew. It was only a construction of magic, only another sham perpetuated in front of his eyes. But she was real in his heart, and maybe she could exist even without a mare’s face, even without a unicorn’s horn, even without a pony’s body. Maybe she could exist within Antares’s heart too. Maybe she had always been real in there, and could keep on living, even when all trace of her physical existence disappeared.

So Antares planned. She thought long and hard about what she would now do, out in the garden, in that place that she had destroyed. First, however, she had a small matter to attend to. When night had fallen, she came down from Jupiter’s chambers. She grabbed a cloak and a lantern from a passing guard and set off into the darkness.

The night was dark and cool, and Antares felt a chill pass over her skin as she walked that made her wrap the cloak around her shoulders tighter. Once again, just as she had twenty years ago, she felt as though she walked not as herself, but as somepony else. Not as the scorpion of old, but truly as the Lady Antares, doing what she should have done years ago.

Though twenty years had passed since she had last come here, it was not hard for her to find the secluded clearing where she had planted Star Light’s seeds. Even if the place wasn’t burned into her memory, tonight the clearing shone with the fire of a dozen bright yellow fruits hanging from the sturdy branches of the young tree that now grew there.

Antares paused in front of the tree, holding her blazing lantern aloft just in front of her face. Here was her betrayal, growing far off where she had been able to forget it. Here was what was left of her past self. Here were all the lies, all the work that she had done for Star Light, to pay him for the life that she had no right to lead. Now that that life had ended, it was time for her to take back everything that she had stolen.

“Ah, it’s just you,” came a voice out of nowhere.

Antares whirled around, her breath catching in her throat. That had been Star Light’s voice, but she couldn’t see him anywhere. She had not anticipated company.

Derisive laughter echoed around her. “Don’t worry, my dear, it’s just me,” Star Light said, finally materializing out of thin air right in front of her. “What brings you here tonight, Antares? Have you come to kick off our first harvest?”

Star Light had grown taller over the years as his magic had grown more powerful inside him. He looked down at her now with suspicion, not unlike how he had glared at her when they had first met. She had to think fast. “Jupiter is dead,” she said to him, willing the anger in her heart into smug satisfaction on her face. “And his garden is no more. We’ve won.”

“Superb!” he chuckled back at her. “That’s the old scorpion I remember. What was it like, I wonder, to look into his eyes and see your victory at hoof?”

“I won’t soon forget it,” Antares replied honestly, though she kept her voice hard. “What then for you, Star Light?”

In answer, the wizard disappeared once again with a flash. “My full powers have returned to me,” he said, once again seeming to be all around her. “Without this fruit I would soon wither once more, but of course thanks to you I shall never want for it again.” He reappeared standing beside her, leaning over her right shoulder so that he could whisper right into her ear. “Thanks for that, by the way. You prolonged your life a number of years by continuing to help me.”

She spasmed away from him, wheeling so that her back was facing the tree, and she could look her old captor in the eye once more. Star Light was grinning his classic twisted smile, and she had no doubt as to the meaning of his words. But she had to delay him a few seconds more. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Star Light replied, scratching his chin mockingly. “What use are you to me? You’ve got me my tree, dealt with the King for me, and even been kind enough to keep quiet. But now, I don’t believe that I need you anymore.” A swirl of his magic began to materialize about his horn. “What did you honestly expect?”

At that moment, there was so much magic present in the clearing that Antares was able to sense its presence, radiating gently from the tree behind her, and pulsing dangerously about Star Light. But there was other magic at work here too. She stole a look up at the moon, noting its position over the horizon. Any second now. “I thought that we would rule together,” she said, not looking at him. “We’ve been partners up to now.”

“I don’t think so, my dear,” he replied. “Given what you did to the last King, I don’t really think that I could feel safe with you still around. If it makes you feel any better though, I can give you something really special, as my last favour to you.” He concentrated a moment, adding a red shimmer to the spell that sat waiting for its trigger. “Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

There was an explosion of teal magic immediately in front of him, followed by a fireball of orange and yellow as Star Light’s spell impacted on the falling lantern, shattering it and setting the clearing ablaze. When the unicorn uncovered his eyes, the tree was engulfed in flame, and he could barely make out a scorpion scuttling its way into the underbrush.

The scorpion hurried back to the garden, moving as quickly as she could through the town. It took all night for her to get back, and the sun was rising when she finally made her way through the overgrown gates. She was just about to move off the trail to seek out her old dwelling, when suddenly she realized what she was seeing.

Far in the distance, now visible over the eastern horizon, the Sun’s rays caught the underside of clouds that gathered over the far desert, colouring them a fiery orange. As the minutes ticked by, the Sun rose higher, catching more clouds in its shimmering light, and suddenly it was as if the whole sky had caught fire, bathed in prismatic reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows. It was exactly like Antares remembered it. But though this was the moment she had craved, that had set her off down this path, the Sun’s light brought no warmth to her soul. Surely, she knew, it would have been far better had it dawned on a living world, one where she had Jupiter here to share it with.

But though she felt sorrow once more rising within her, Antares knew that this was not the end. For while a scorpion would relish these new surroundings, Antares was not a scorpion anymore, despite all appearances. Even as she had remade the garden in her own image before, now she would bring it back to life. Antares vowed that she would never cry again until that task had been fulfilled.

And so, over the years, Antares worked. It was slow going, of course, stealing seeds one at a time from the castle, and caring for them as best as she could. But Antares never tired, and indeed as she worked she felt happy again, now that she was righting the wrongs of her past. Soon enough, flowers once again bloomed in carefully managed rows, saplings once again took root to anchor the sand, and water once more flowed through the land.

There was only one place that Antares did not care for. The spot at the centre of the garden remained bare, and every year, on the anniversary of the harvest, she would return, to remember it all again, and weep a few more tears for Jupiter.

As the garden once again grew vibrant, the spirit of the whole kingdom, which had faltered after Jupiter’s death, rose along with it. Fifty years later, long after Antares had passed on, a new tree was found growing at the garden’s center, exactly where the old had once been. As prosperity returned to the kingdom, the old tradition of picking that tree’s fruit to start the harvest returned with it, and has continued to this day.

That’s why every year, on the eve of the start of the harvest, we watch the eastern skies. Just before dawn, the scorpion returns, led by Antares herself, shining bright in the night sky. She rises alongside Regia, the Crown, and so once again the King and the Scorpion Queen fulfill their anniversary, and start the harvest anew.