Icy Wastes

It was nearly twenty minutes before Tharian felt clean enough to finally step out of the shower. It had been in truth the first shower he had in months, far too many things consuming his time for him to truly worry about himself. Now that he was clean he was already beginning to feel much better.

He usually wasn’t left alone for very long, Celestia almost always wanting to chat and just let the day fade into obscurity. But, he couldn’t feel any approaching presences, and Celestia wasn’t waiting for him to come out.

He slowly walked around, examining her room for a moment.

He was used to the rather plain and simple stone fortress he had been calling home for ages. The only coverings were in the mead hall and throne room. His room was simply used for sleeping, and nothing else. But, it appeared that she spent plenty of time here, a desk was out for writing, several book shelves were filled to the brim, things were neatly stacked on various tables and dressers.

Tharian couldn’t help but laugh, she lived like a true princess, to the very t of being regal and ‘pretentious’ at least until he arrived. He knew in the coming few days, if not in the next few hours, he’d see a definite change in the way she acted. She’d be less the princess that every guard, noble, and perhaps her sister, came to expect, and become more of the rowdy, boisterous, and open mare and friend he knew quite well.

He sighed quietly, walking to the foot of the massive bed she slept in. In truth, he didn’t want to invite her up to his home not just because of the weather and chance she’d be stuck there all winter- as little a problem as that’d be for them- but, there was very little in the way of, well anything.

Unlike ponies, his species had to contend with the weather and beasts alike. Up north, you were strong and hardy, or you’d be left to die by some monster. Here, they had magic and pegasi that could do things on a whim, weather seemed to be perfect. If there was a blizzard, it was pre-planned, a rainstorm? Easy to handle. Thunderstorm? Nothing a few weather ponies couldn’t take care of.

He sat down on the bed, thinking more deeply. His people starving wasn’t the only thing troubling him. There were many other things as well, namely an ancient thing seemed to be stirring.

First the vanishing fishing boats no more than a year ago… the only survivor he had found spoke of something in the depths, a beast of unknown power and presence… then the mysterious death of the crops, the fields plowed the day before, only to have the soil destroyed and rendered useless.

Then there was him.

In truth, neither of these things scared him. Nothing did. Why should he be scared? They can’t kill him.

Only she can.

That thought made him cringe. Yes, at heart he was a warrior, plain and simple. He had always been one. But underneath that ferocity and courage lay a king. It’s why his people elected him as their permanent ruler. He didn’t even remember for how long he’d been ruling, had it been several millennia now, the years before coming in contact with Equestria seemed moot. All the years seeming empty and hollow. All except one, the first memory he had.

Pain, such unbridled pain. It was as if something had been driven through his very essence, but, there was nothing, no weapon, no injuries… just him and the bloodied snow around. It was the first time he remembered anything, the agony, the cold, the fear. He didn’t know why he was scared… he felt invincible on that day. He felt like he had risen, but, still he feared something. Even now he couldn’t place a finger on it. But it was always there… even when he was alone it remained.

Hell, when he’d befriended Celestia, it grew worse. So much worse…

Was he scared of causing pain? That made no sense, he reveled in battle and victory. It was his nature, that of a warrior. But still, he made home in peace…

Was he scared of death? No, he’d found out time and time again, death was no longer coming for him, he’d survived brutal injuries that’d have permanently crippled others.

At that thought he ran a finger over a group of scars on his chest, a place where a wendigo had tried to tear him in two.

What was he scared of? No matter how hard he thought… no, that wasn’t the truth either. He was scared of it, something more ancient than even he.

The pain, the bloodied snow, the satiating of a deep hunger… that wasn’t his first memory. Not if he thought hard enough. Sometimes, amidst his dreamless sleeps he saw it, memories even older.

Runes, he could only vaguely read, as if something was locking their meaning away…

Thinking back on them too long made his head hurt, but something deep down told him, he needed to remember. He shook the thoughts from his head, trying to clear his mind.

His head was still pounding, and now he felt something welling in his stomach. A small rumbling, now he felt a bit of relief, maybe he was just stressed out. It had been months since he’d been able to actually rest, and with the stress of his people starving no longer an issue, he could do just that.

But, it had also been nearly a day since he last ate… his supplied did run out on the way here...

“Yes… food would be amazing.” Tharian chuckled, rubbing his stomach. He slowly stood up, beginning to get dressed. It didn’t take him long to get ready, and it took even less time for him to get back down to the throne room.

Though, immediately he wished he hadn’t come so soon...