Author's Note
This Prologue takes place 914 years before Nightmare Moon’s return, and the following chapter will resume in modern Equestria. This prologue is for the sake of setup atmosphere, and getting a feel for how to write this. I hope you enjoy.
Thanks goes to my friend Scout Charger for his encouragement, advice and proofing/editing.
Tails As Old As Time
Crystal Roots
Prologue
Tails as old as Time
The stars twinkled and shone upon the cool blanket of the night sky, spun into an indecipherable pattern. A crescent moon with the shadowy outlines of a dark mare on it hung overhead, bathing pale moonlight upon a small mountain village. The village of Tall Tale has always been a quiet little town. Home to nearly a dozen strewn about log cabins, along with small fields of pumpkin and hay. It was a particularly chilly fall’s eve, smoke rising gently from some of the chimneys. Aside from the moonlight, the only other light source to illuminate the streets were the candle-burning lampposts.
Within one particular log cabin, a rather plain guest room was spread out. A candlestick stood atop the nightstand with a small auburn stool tucked underneath, next to a bed. The feather mattress was held by a birch bedframe, covered by an old quilt that garnered patches of varying flowers, fruits and squash. A modestly sized bookshelf sat in a nearby corner of the room with a moderate collection of books. A burlap pouch hung by the cinch’s strap off the corner of the shelf. Three portraits were displayed on the walls, each displaying a hoof-made painting. The most prominent among these was the painting of an open grassy landscape. A river ran through the middle at an angle, stray boulders here and there with mountains far in the background. The painting itself went almost untouched by all except nature. However, next to the river sat a crimson-coated mare. Her fuchsia mane hung down, her eyes downcast at the rippling reflection on the river’s surface. A sorrowful glint in her eye.
This was the household’s most treasured painting, Mare of the Hills.
Bursting into the guest room came a young filly still bouncing and giggling with energy. Pumpkin Patch had a short mane that came down only to the beginning of her neck, her bangs separated to drape over her eyebrows. Her mane’s hue resembled parsnips, streaking crimson highlights running through it. Her coat was the color of pumpkins, her eyes like spring leaves. Despite her family consisting entirely of earth ponies, she had the wings of a Pegasus. Her flank was still absent of a cutie mark, though that didn’t bother her. She was still young and had her whole life ahead to discover herself. She was just thrilled that she was getting the chance to spend the weekend with her grandparents.
She always enjoyed her time with her grandparents, especially during the fall. The pumpkins are in season during that time, allowing for her grandma to make one of the best pumpkin pies.
“Alright young filly, it’s time to simmer down for bed.” The voice of her grandfather, Tarp Pigment, called through the doorframe as he stepped into the room. His violet coat had begun to fade with age. Tarp’s mane and tail were both short, hazelnut brown with strands of gray. Wrinkles painted his face with the age of his body and soul. His flank bore a cutie mark of a quill drawing a picture of a tiara on a book’s page, illegible scrawl below the tiara. A pair of gleaming opal eyes were his only trace of youth, peering out with weariness from the day’s chores. A slight smile stretched across his muzzle as he trotted toward the bed.
Pumpkin stopped at the bedside as he came in, shifting her weight to her left side. “But I’m not tired gran’pa!” she whined, looking up at him with a pout, along with eyes that could tame a dragon. “Can’t I stay up a little while longer? Pleeeeeaaase…?” She stretched a sheepish smile, beads of candlelight reflecting off her spring-green eyes with both innocent and mischievous intent. Tarp smirked. A small chuckle was the only answer she got in that moment. My little Bumpkin could get a cutie mark for giving puppy eyes…
Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for Pumpkin, he had grown a resilience to those pleading eyes.
“Sorry, Bumpkin, but bed time is bed time. 'Sides, if you stayed up late because you aren’t tired now, you will be tomorrow." He walked to the corner of the bed, taking the corner of the quilt and blankets in his teeth, pulling them back to reveal the bedsheets. "Remember the last time you asked to stay up late?” He gave her a sly wink, straining to keep back a snicker as his lips curled further upward. Pumpkin rolled her eyes at him for calling her by that nickname. She gave a gentle flap of her wings as she hopped up onto the bed. Tarp continued, “You know, last autumn, when you asked if you could stay up late. And when we woke you up the next morning you were so groggy you kept bumping into everything. Remember that?” He couldn’t hold it any longer as his granddaughter gave him a light punch on the foreleg. Tarp quietly cackled at his granddaughter’s expense, keeping it down to avoid disturbing his wife in the next room.
Pumpkin’s cheeks turned scarlet. “You know, you are so mean sometimes gran’pa…” she mumbled, giving a small sigh in defeat.
He pulled the covers over the little filly, nuzzling her cheek, a giggle riding off her tongue. "You know I only tease, Pumpkin." An idea came to mind to better coax her into sleeping. “Tell you what, to make up for that, how about a bedtime story?” He gave her a sly smile as he walked up to the bookshelf. He put a hoof to his chin as he contemplated which story to read her. He spoke up to Pumpkin sitting up behind her under the covers “What about The Stallions and the Jewel? You always seem to like that one.”
Turning around to face Pumpkin, she gave a back and forth motion in no. “We’ve read that one almost every time I’ve come to visit… Although I’ve been kind of curious about something gran’pa…” Tarp turned back to the short line of books, scanning for what else there was he could read to her.
“What’s that Bumpkin?” he asked while a hoof skimmed over various books along the shelf, until he lingered upon a blue and fuchsia-purple striped spine, a crimson and velvet halved heart stitched to the center. He frowned at the book, bringing back memories of autumns many decades ago. Today is…
“Is there a story behind the Mare of the Hills?” Pumpkin asked while glancing at the painting.
Tarp’s eyes shot open in shock, mouth slightly gaping open. Slowly he lowered his hoof from the bookshelf and began to turn toward the young filly. She was staring at the painting before turning to him, her ears drooped and her lips downcast after seeing her grandfather’s reaction. He finally wrested control of his tongue. “Where did that come from?” He was surprised by how weak his voice sounded.
Pumpkin looked downward, lightly tapping her hooves together as her ears stooped downward. After a few moments of silence, she nervously answered “Well… I’m not sure really… That painting has been here as long as I can remember. And she’s always looked so sad. I was just wondering I guess.” Nodding as if confirming with herself. Placing her fore-hooves firmly back on the covers. She looked up to meet Tarp’s gaze, feeling less nervous after getting her thoughts out. Her grandfather turned away from her with an unreadable expression, looking back at the bookshelf.
“There is. It isn’t finished yet though.” Tarp stared at the striped spine. After a moment of hesitation, he inched it forward with a hoof. He lightly took it up with his lips, carefully balancing it on the back of his barrel before returning to the bedside. Pumpkin gaped in curiosity at the book, the cover written in gold lettering The Jouster and the Rose. A larger heart which resembled the one on the spine encased the golden lettering within. Placing the book on the bed for the moment, he pondered if he should use the stool, then put that thought aside. This isn’t the sort of book to be read at the bedside…
“Scooch over.” he requested. She did so, giving him room to join her under the covers. He displayed the fuchsia and blue cover to her. “The Jouster and the Rose, written and illustrated by yours truly!” He gave a brief smirk of pride before slowly returning to a solemn complexion.
She looked up at her grandfather’s expression, then back to the cover, petting it gently with her hoof. “Is it a fairy tale, gran’pa? Like ‘The Stallions and the Jewel’?” He was staring down at the cover, brushing it tenderly with his hoof.
“Of a sort. It doesn’t have much in common with Stallions.” He turned his attention to Pumpkin, a serious tone in his voice. “Listen, Pumpkin, this isn't the happiest of stories. And like I mentioned, it isn’t finished yet. You sure you still want to hear it?”
She seemed hesitant for a fraction of a second before a look of determination set in. She nodded to him in affirmation. She wanted to sate her burning curiosity and put it to rest. Tarp smiled at this, turning back to the book and cracking it open. The first page displayed a small illustration at the top of rose stems barbed with thorns pointed outward, encasing a silver and teal lance. The same blue and fuchsia heart was present, impaled by the lance. Below the illustration at the center of the page, in large curvy lettering, read the following:
Written and illustrated by Tarp Pigment
Inspired by Dahlia
Looking closely at the picture and the writing, she spoke up. “Who’s Dahlia?” Her uncertain eyes reached her grandfather, practically striking him silent. Tarp hesitated, unsure of how best to answer this. After a sigh and a gentle smile, one that masked a subtle shade of sorrow, he finally settled on an answer.
“Somepony very dear to me.” After a pause, a more lighthearted grin took shape on his lips. “Now, shall I start reading?” Pumpkin gave an approving nod with a white smile. He turned the page, an illustration of a sparkling kingdom with a towering castle built at its center. The sun hung over the thriving metropolis, a green oasis compared to the frozen tundra that encompassed it. Blue Mountains were portrayed far in the distance that had their own subtle glow to them.
“Once upon a time, there stood a thriving kingdom. Its ponies were all part of a strong nation, sharing their love and pride through actions and words carried out every day. The ponies that lived in this kingdom were an exceptional sight, because of their bloodline harboring a unique trait. That same love and pride shone so brightly in their hearts that their very coats sheened like diamonds in the light.”
He turned the page to reveal another image, Pumpkin’s eyes grew wide in fascination, a gaping smile forming on her muzzle. A fair number of the glittering ponies stood in a marketplace, their coats varying colors of purple, blue, and green. Some attempted to sell their wares while others browsed or simply wandered.
Among them in the background came a Pegasus stallion with a gleaming blue-violet coat trotting toward the marketplace, his eyes a bright chestnut hue. He was garbed in a periwinkle blue set of armor. The helmet left a gap at the top to reveal his spiky blue and mauve-purple mane. His wings slotted through his breastplate, spanning past his tail. A silver and teal lance was sheathed and strapped to his side. His tail shared the same color scheme as his mane, only much smoother and a slightly longer length. He was handsome to say the least.
“The citizens took on a variety of different arts and activities, including crystalsmithing and jousting. Once a year the Crystal Faire was held, the nation celebrating beneath the towering castle. Among these ponies stood the Vanguard, volunteer knights who safeguarded the kingdom on the King’s behalf. Though never sworn into service (with the exception of the Elite Guard) they continue their vigil for the sake of friends and family. They kept watch over the roads and borders, ensuring that peace was maintained.”
The page turned once again, revealing the same dashing knight from the previous page. He stood before a beautiful mare who sat on the paved road. The knight offering a hoof to help her stand, their eyes locked. Pumpkin looked between the illustration and the portrait. It's the same mare… The crimson coat, fuchsia mane and tail all matched. Although she didn’t gleam like the other ponies in the story. This picture had significantly more detail put into her, revealing a pair of turquoise eyes. The cutie mark plastered to her flank was of numerous flowers of different shapes and colors in an arrangement.
“One fateful day, during that year’s Crystal Faire, a beautiful mare named Rose—" Tarp gently pointed out the mare with a hoof. “—had come to the kingdom on a journey to travel the world and discover its various breeds of flowers. While she marveled at all the scenery in the marketplace, she had accidentally stumbled into a noble knight by the name of Jouster. Upon realizing what had happened, Jouster quickly reached out a hoof to help her stand. When their eyes met, they saw something in them, unaware of what it was at the time.”
Upon closer inspection of the two ponies in the picture, Pumpkin tried to put a thought together. Leaning against Tarp’s side, she asked. “Was it love at first sight, gran’pa?”
Tarp looked down and met eyes with Pumpkin, both smiling. He reached a hoof and ruffled her mane a little. “Far from it, Bumpkin, it was…” He paused, trying to find the right words to describe it. “It was more like interest at first sight, a spark that joined their eyes together.” Pumpkin raised her hoof to fix her mane, mumbling to herself over her hair being messed with, but nodded with some understanding.
“'Forgive me fair maiden.’ after helping her to her hooves, the knight bowed courteously crossing his front hoof over his breastplate as he did so. Rose giggled politely, giving a bright smile.”
"‘Don’t worry about it, I was the one that wasn’t looking where she was going.’ she reached a hoof out to shake ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, good stallion, my name’s Rose. What do you go by?’ she inquired, looking to him with an expectant but pleasant smile.”
"The knight breathed in a whiff of air, puffing his chest out and spreading his wings to their full length. He raised a hoof to his helmet before he answered. 'Jouster, Knight of the Crystal Empire, at your service.’”
“After making one another’s acquaintance, Rose asked Jouster if he would be her guide. She explained to him that she sought knowledge of the regional varieties of flowers. As they searched, Jouster told Rose of the numerous customs and traditions carried out for the Crystal Faire. One of which was a tournament held of his favorite local sport: jousting. Rose’s interest piqued at this, asking if they could watch a few matches.”
Standing upon a green field was Jouster, a short white fence separating the strip into two lanes for the competitors. Jouster stood tall with his head held high, his silver and teal lance extended out, blunted with a large rubber ball. He waved from the field to Rose who sat in the stands. She was bouncing with her hooves up, a parted smile stretching from ear to ear. Rows of spectators cheering Jouster on.
“Diverting from their original task, the two companions went to the jousting grounds and watched from the stands for a time. After a small set of matches, Jouster finally decided he couldn’t watch from the sidelines any longer. He asked that Rose wait for him while he performed in a couple of matches. The two Pegasi took their positions at opposite ends of the lanes. Jouster and his opponent readied their lances, tips blunted with a large rubber ball. Jouster’s glinting eyes were locked on his target with a sly smirk. They began their charge, using their wings to propel them forward. The match was over in moments with Jouster sending his opponent flying backward, landing on a soft mound of hay. Rose cheered among the crowd as they hailed and congratulated him, Jouster waving to Rose with a broad grin.”
The next illustration was of Jouster talking with a flower pony while Rose began walking away in the background, her eyes fixed upon the back of Jouster’s helmet.
“'You were incredible out there, Jouster!’ she complimented her friend. Whatever awkwardness that had hung between them before dissipated as they continued on. They quickly managed to find the flower stand, Rose took some time to learn what she could from the florist.”
"As they conversed, Jouster watched her, listening intently to the conversation. She was so focused on the conversation at hoof. She is a curious mare to say the least… he thought. Jouster looked about the various arrangements, and an idea struck. Jouster smirked in knowing determination. As she turned to leave, Jouster told her that he would catch up in a few minutes. After she was out of earshot, he murmured a request to the florist.”
“When Jouster rejoined with Rose, he brought with him a tiara strung together with a specific variety of light blue flowers. Rose looked in surprise and awe at the tiara, peering up into his eyes. As he placed it in her mane, he told her 'This is Winter’s Glory, it is a rare and beautiful flower that only inhabits this region. It has unique properties that you will soon see for yourself.’ Rose thanked him for the gift, and they continued on. Jouster told her of the Crystal Ball that was the closing event for the Faire, and that they should take part. Mentioning that it’s full of dancing, music, and good cheer, the two set out. Before journeying there however, Jouster wanted to remove his armor at the barracks.”
The next page revealed a scene within a courtyard where a number of ponies were dancing, and at the center was Jouster and Rose. The flowers of Rose’s tiara glowed in the moonlight, making her fuchsia mane gleam like any other crystal pony. And Jouster’s coat was free of armor, revealing more of the glowing pony’s blue-violet coat, his layered spiky mane hanging down. His cutie mark was of a silver and teal lance lying against an amber shield. Rose hung onto the back of Jousters withers as he led, both smiling ear to ear as they looked into one another’s eyes.
“As twilight set in, the two made their way to the Crystal Ball, joining in the festivities. They laughed and made small talk until the slow strokes of a violin and gentle notes of a piano began to play. The music’s enticing call brought them hither, joining together for a dance. As the two danced, the moon began its ascent and the Winter’s Glory began emanating with pure blue light. She took notice and looked about her, pots around the courtyard lighting up as their flowers glowed, the same type of flowers she wore. She returned her gaze back to Jouster, a foalish grin greeting him. Her mane took in the light, and she looked stunning in the eyes of the beholder. She is something special… he thought to himself as the music died out. The dancers bowed to their partners.”
The two sat a hoof apart underneath the railing of a bridge that spanned the river, their forehooves hanging off the edge. The Crystal Ball was still going in the background.
Looking down at their reflection, they saw each other’s reflection along with the twinkling starry sky.
“'You know, I’m really glad I bumped into you earlier. I really had a fun time today.’ she said, looking over to her newfound friend with a warm smile before looking back at the river.”
"A shiver shook her very core, rubbing her hooves together, trying to find some semblance of warmth. Deep in thought, Jouster looked over to Rose with a look of genuine joy and wonder. 'Me too Rose.’ He paused a few moments, and before he even realized it, he extended a wing out to Rose’s barrel, pulling her close. Jouster blushed, Rose looked at him curiously before giving him a grateful grin.”
“'Me too.’”
*****
Tarp looked over to Pumpkin, who had started to doze a few minutes ago. He attempted to silently remove himself from the covers, his old bones creaking in the process. Tarp tucked her in with a hoof, giving her a tender kiss on the brow. He whispered softly into her ear “Night Bumpkin.” She mumbled in response, sleep already took hold as she shifted under the covers. He smiled at his granddaughter. He then turned his attention back to the book, sighing solemnly, taking it to return to the bookshelf.
As he started sliding the book into its space, he hesitated. Today was their anniversary… He turned his attention to the burlap pouch hanging from the bookshelf’s corner. Directly next to the pouch was the portrait of the Mare of the Hills. Her eyes remained forever transfixed upon the river where the bridge once stood.
Mother…
He took the pouch in his hoof, sliding the book inside and putting his hoof through the strap. The pouch and its contents hanging from his right wither. He walked silently back to the nightstand, blowing out the candle’s flame with a puff of air. He began to shut the door, moonlight shining down on the bed from the window.
_~='*`=~_
Tarp sat on a pillow in silence at the kitchen table, flipping through the pages of the book. He turned to the page of the both of them sitting at the center of the bridge, looking down into the river…
Mom… Dad…
He stared at the painted picture of his father, who he only knew from the stories and descriptions his mother shared with him. Kyanite Quartz was his true name, who had disappeared with an entire nation. Though she wouldn’t tell him everything, he treasured every story she told. He loved his father, wished he had the chance to know him, and had a slight feeling of resentment for him. He turned to the final page.
There, sitting at the river’s edge, in a vast expanse of green nothingness, was his mother, Dahlia. The painting was an almost exact replica to this, though there was one slight difference between the two. Only one who knew it was there would be able to see a small detail in the river.
It wasn’t her own reflection she peered at in the river. It was Kyanite’s.
The page held the last words of this sad tale. He barely breathed as he murmured them quietly to himself.
“Rose stayed much longer than she had originally intended, wanting to spend more time with Jouster after the night at the Crystal Ball. The two became close friends and with time, lovers. Not all fairy tales have a happy ending. This is one of them.”
“After she left the Empire to visit with her family, Rose returned after two months to rejoin her special somepony. She returned to find an empty grassland nestled in a frozen wasteland. No remnant that the Empire had ever even existed remained, and she never saw Jouster again. She made a pilgrimage to these hills every year, in the autumn that they met, hoping that one day he would return. It is in those hills that she rests in what little peace she could find with the remainder of her life.”
“She never had the chance to tell him he was going to be a father.”
Those last words opened the floodgates. He closed the book, Tarp gently set it aside as his emotions came forth. No longer did an elderly stallion sit at the table, but a young bastard of a colt. Tears streamed down his face, which was held up by a forehoof, heaving gasping breaths. He mourned his late mother. He mourned for the life he could have had.
The floorboards creaked as a set of hoofsteps approached. He lifted his heavy eyes, weighed even more by the trail of matted fur. He knew who it was before she even stepped in. She knew what time it was.
Goldie Autumn stepped forward, moonlight falling upon her figure. An old mare though she was, she still appeared near on a decade younger than her husband. Goldie Autumn’s blonde coat shone in the moonlight, her mane a curly deep mahogany orange. Her tail long and ended in a curl. Her eyes were a subtle shade of purple, resembling an orchid. Her cutie mark displayed a carved pumpkin sitting atop a pie pan.
Goldie stepped toward him, remorse strewn about her features. She found no use in words in that moment, none that haven’t already been said. She simply took him in her forelegs and rocked him gently. He cried into her withers, Goldie stroked his mane tenderly with a hoof. “Shhhh shhhh… Everything’s going to be alright, dear. I’m right here…”
The two sat like that for what seemed like hours until Tarp had finally calmed down. He had this breakdown every few autumns, Goldie has always been there to try to comfort and console him. Goldie made Tarp look her in the eye, a gentle smile on her muzzle, with those shimmering pools of purple looking at him lovingly. “Feeling better, hun?” She asked as she brushed his cheek with her hoof. Tarp took her hoof with his own, recomposing himself with a twinkle in his eyes.
“You are too good to me, Goldie.” The couple closed their eyes as they pulled each other closer in an embrace. Time almost seemed to turn back for the two, remembering how things were the day they met so many decades ago. Their lips locked together, and all the heart ache was swept away in that moment.
The sun began its rise. Night made way for the dawn.
A knock echoed through the silent house.
