The list of things that could make a Royal Guard abandon their post was short enough to be counted on the hooves of a pony. The sight before them, while not disturbing enough to make that list, was only a hair’s breadth away.
Strangely, an outsider wouldn’t see what all the fuss was about. They would be completely oblivious to the sole warning sign that something was terribly, dreadfully wrong. The guards, and the Everfree Castle staff for that matter, weren’t lucky to have the bliss that was ignorance.
You see, it all boiled down to a single eye that was twitching, and a smile that was just a tad too sharp. That in and of itself wouldn’t have been that big of a deal had the twitching eye and blade-like smile not belonged to one Princess Celestia, the sole remaining princess on the Equestrian throne.
Rumor had it that Celestia’s control over her own facial expressions was so great that she could tell a masterful lie without ever speaking a word. If you worked with her, however, you would know that there was no hyperbole in that rumor; it was the dead truth.
To see her mask crack sent lesser ponies into panic. The last time it had cracked in recent memory, ex-Princess Luna had been banished to the moon. Compared to that crack, this was a gaping chasm, an abyss full of pure, unadulterated rage.
As if moved by some unspoken command, four ponies adjusted their present course. First, the Captain of the Royal Guard whispered an order into the vice-Captain’s ear, “The well of mercy is running dry.” The vice-Captain then galloped off, plenty eager to fulfill his secret orders if it meant getting away.
The second pony to respond to the secret command was the head chef of the royal kitchens. He smiled an unhappy smile when he heard of Celestia’s cracking mask, and, knowing the reason for it, he turned to address his crew. “Everypony who isn't involved with Celestia's special order, go home. The kitchen’s closed for the night.” And all but six ponies, himself included, left. Pulling out an enchanted key from his apron pocket, the chef unlocked a door in the kitchen that had been magically hidden from most eyes. The six ponies stepped inside and began to gather their ingredients.
The third pony to respond was the gardener who tended to Celestia’s secret garden. He simply walked up to the enchanted gate, unlocked it with an ordinary-looking brass key, and then went back to his tool shed. Reaching behind the wheelbarrow, he pulled out a bottle of the strongest whisky he could find and downed several massive gulps before placing it among the many other bottles.
The fourth and final pony to respond, about an hour or so later, was none other than Celestia’s personal assistant. With her head held high, she escorted the griffin dignitary to Princess Celestia’s private lounge. And although she looked in control of herself if one were to judge based on her posture, the assistant was actually holding her head high for a different reason altogether, one that would ruin the surprise - and her reputation - if the griffin knew.
The door to the lounge slammed open as the dignitary barged in. Celestia momentarily paid him no mind, instead focusing momentarily on her assistant. The assistant nodded, and then shut the door.
Only then did Celestia look at the griffin that had given her an eye twitch. “Good evening, ambassador Gilderoy.” Her voice was more cool and smooth than a frozen lake.
“Celestia,” the griffin spat. “Are we to have a repeat of our earlier discourse, or are you finally ready to submit to my King’s demands like a good little pony? Our army is fully ready and willing to march if you don't.”
Celestia merely smiled. It wasn't the sharp smile she’d had moments before, but the soft, well-practiced motherly smile she used on a day-to-day basis. “Oh, neither. I wanted to invite you on a little walk to my private garden. My chef is in the midst of preparing a lovely meal, and I am fond of dining in my garden. I would love if you would join me. Not as a diplomat and a princess, but as a griffin and a pony. No politics, no war, just people and food.”
Ambassador Gilderoy scoffed. “I care not for your games, Celestia. My King needs an answer. If I do not have a messanger off soon enough, the King may just send troops to, ah, investigate. He is an impatient man.”
The smile on Celestia's face never faltered. “I assure you that I have no intent of delaying my reply, but I simply cannot think on an empty stomach. I shall answer after I have dined.”
Gilderoy waved a claw dismissively. “Shall I summon a servant to bring you your feed bag, then?”
Celestia tittered lightly, as if the blatant insult were a mildly amusing joke. “Oh Gilderoy, you do amuse me so. That said, I will be going to my garden. Upon exiting, I will speak my answer to your demands. If you are not there to hear me, I suppose you shall have to wait until the morning to hear me again.”
The griffin growled, but acquiesced nevertheless. “Fine, I shall join you.”
“Good,” Celestia replied. The solar alicorn stood and took a moment to stretch out her legs. She trotted forwards and, the instant she passed the dignitary, her lips twitched upwards. “Now, I was wondering if you would like to hear a story? It's a legend of old that dates back to ancient Unicornia.”
The griffin didn’t audibly reply, but the princess heard his claws tap a little more firmly on the marble floors than normal. Yet again, the princess’s smile tightened, pleased with his irritation. Thus, she began her tale.
Have you ever lived through a famine, Gilderoy? No? A shame. I’ve lived through several. You never truly understand the essence of a pony until their rational thought has been slowly consumed by soul-crushing hunger.
Back in ancient Unicornia, there was a small village in the mountains. It was a simple village full of happy unicorns, at least until the famine struck. Now, this village depended heavily on their sweetgrass crop. When the blight destroyed it, and ruined every attempt to regrow the sweetgrass, the villagers grew desperate.
But the mountain, which had long been their home, was now the very thing that was killing them. The sheer distance to the next town and the difficulty of the pass meant that they couldn't get the supplies that they so needed. The villagers would have perished that very winter were it not for a stallion too clever for his own good.
The stallion had no talent that would have saved them, but he was good with mind magics. So, if he couldn't save them, he decided that he would at least make the wait for the reaper pleasant. In the dead of night, he cast his spell over the village.
When they awoke, everything was wonderful, or so they thought. His spell gave them all extreme optimism and a heaping helping of joy. But it also did something else. Tired of having an empty stomach, he’d also included an effect that made ponies find normally unpalatable things pleasant to eat.
Rocks and dirt became common on the dinner tables, as did paper and wood. Nobody complained. Nobody could.
But then two siblings had an awful, terrible idea. Had the spell not been clouding their minds, they would have never spoken it, and had the spell never been placed on the villagers, they would have never accepted.
“Other creatures eat ponies,” they said. “Why can't we eat ponies, too?”
Surprised? Don't be. Hunger alone can make ponies do the strangest things, and when you throw in mind-altering magic, well, you get the picture.
And so one of them was chosen to be eaten. They killed him by rupturing his magical core, a standard execution practice for the time.
What the villagers didn't know, what nopony knew at the time, was that murdering a unicorn magically placed a taint on the killers. Since the whole village partook in his flesh, they were all cursed.
They couldn't care.
Bellies full for the first time in a long while, they readily adopted the practice of cannibalism. Even after the famine ended, they continued eating ponies, one of their own every year and any travelers that came by. And even after the spell started weakening, they’d all developed a taste for pony flesh, and fondly remembered their previous kills.
They were no longer ponies, but monsters in pony skins.
“I do not see the point of this horrid story,” Gilderoy muttered as he crossed the threshold of the castle door. Though he himself was an omnivore, cannibalism disturbed him greatly.
“Patience, Gilderoy. I’m coming to my point,” Celestia replied. She stepped off the cobblestone path and onto the freshly cut sweetgrass.
Now, the two siblings who had originally suggested the idea were young at the time, barely on the cusp of puberty. For unicorns, that means that their magic was still rather malleable. And for every one of their kin that they gleefully slew, their magic took on more of the taint than the adults did, and it twisted their very bodies.
Radiantly beautiful they became, and yet horrid in equal measure. Those that looked upon the bloodthirsty siblings would instantly recognize that there was something inherently wrong with them, and yet what that something was, they wouldn't know until it was far too late. And until then, the poor ponies would be drawn in by their alluring charisma and beauty.
The legend goes that the two siblings gained unnatural life from their monstrous actions. But as to what happened to them, the legends disagree. Some say that they are still alive to this day, secretly hunting ponies from the shadows. Others say that they became the wendigos that tormented the pony tribes. But by far, the most common version of the legend was that they were slain by my sister and I.
“Were they?”
Celestia pushed the gate of her secret garden open. “Not at all. All three endings are fabrications.”
Leading him inside, the princess shut the gate behind them, and locked it with her magic. She led Gilderoy past rows upon rows of trees, of which each had a small, white, head-sized stone in front of it. On each stone, there was an inscription written in ancient Unicornian glyphs.
They came upon a table with two plates of steaming hot food already laid out. The scent of cooked meat graced his nose, but after that tale, Gilderoy had no appetite. Strangely, both plates had portions of meat on it. However, Celestia had been known to eat some for the sake of politics.
Here and now, though, Gilderoy found that it was in very bad taste. “Is this some sort of joke?”
Celestia did not answer. Instead, she sat down and immediately took a bite of the savory cut. And unlike before, where she grimaced whenever the Griffin Kingdom requested that she partake in their cooking, her smile never faded. “Eat.”
That wasn't a request. And so Gilderoy took a bite of the dish. It wasn't like any cut of meat he’d eaten before. While it was good, he chalked up the odd flavor to the ponies’ unfamiliarity with the art of cooking for an omnivore.
“Delicious,” Celestia moaned, almost lewdly. She bit into the dish again, and moaned once more. A slight blush formed on her cheeks. “Are you enjoying it?”
“Not as much as you appear to be,” Gilderoy deadpanned.
Celestia hummed contemplatively. “Did you know that there was an assassination attempt on me last night?”
Gilderoy’s fork clattered on the table, having dropped almost as fast as his jaw.
“Oh yes. We captured Gregory and detained him. He was very talkative when I came to visit him this morning. It seems that your King has been a little to eager to get at my ponies and their land.”
Sweating buckets, Gilderoy cleared his throat. “I had no idea-”
“Spare me,” Celestia said, twirling her fork. “Justice had already been served.”
“And what has become of him?”
“You know, I told you that tale for a reason. The endings were fabricated, but I know for a fact that the rest was real, and I know what became of the two siblings. The younger sister ended up banished to her moon, while the elder sister remained on the Equestrian throne, facing the invasion of the griffins.”
With growing horror, Gilderoy looked down at the meat before him, and then up at the princess. At that moment, several carefully placed illusions shattered. The stones by the trees twisted into skulls, corpses hung from the branches of the trees, Celestia's mane drooped and shifted to the color of fire and blood, her teeth sharpened into daggers, and her eyes turned crimson.
“Silly little Gilderoy.” Her voice bore the same motherly tone it always did, but Celestia’s eyes held nothing but rage and bloodlust. Her magic gathered around her horn, but instead of the golden glow that she normally had, her magic was black as tar.
Said magic reached out and clutched the griffin’s internal organs and squeezed. He squawked, and then screamed in agony.
“Now, little birdy, I had gone thirty five years without killing somebody. Even for somepony as old as I, thirty five years is a long time. I thought I had buried that part of me once and for all, but then you and your little assassin had to come and make me kill again.”
Celestia leaned in and whispered into the writhing Gilderoy’s ear hole. “If your King wants war so badly, tell him that I’d be happy to talk to him personally over dinner.”
Then she pulled with her magic.
Outside of the garden, the gardener took another swig of his drink, the assistant emptied her stomach, the chef vigorously cleaned his kitchen, and the captain simply went about his duties with a mechanical step. All four knew the truth, and all four agreed upon one thing: despite having the same goal in the end, the shepherd protected her flock better than the wolves.
Author's Note
Here's a creepy little thing I wrote awhile back and never posted.
