Author's Note

Guest Authored by: Jackelope
https://www.fimfiction.net/user/265812/Jackelope

Edited by: Maxwell_Edison
https://www.fimfiction.net/user/109902/Maxwell_Edison

The Chasing Sun

When he first emerged on the other side of the mirror, his most immediate instinct was to run back through it. He picked himself up with nary a glance to his surroundings, a furious sneer directed at his own reflection as he galloped back towards the polished glass - kicking up beneath him the composition of where he had landed. He charged through the partially submerged mirror, headfirst, before finding himself toppled over and landing face first back exactly where he just charged from. After spitting out a clump of rough, warm grains, he decided to actually observe where he had ended up. Becoming first acquainted with the abrasive yellow soil that he spat from him mouth.

Sand.

He surveyed what was laid out before him with an overactive jitter, brows furrowing at the sight of what was before him. A barren ocean - if ‘barren’ was applicable to such a thing. It was a seemingly unending hue of blue, perfectly still - the glittering of sunlight’s reflection was pretty, if not a stark reminded he was in the midst of nothing. The clouds above were sparse, and when he climbed to his hooves, he saw - more or less confirming what he already suspected - that he was alone upon a small island; sharing it with a single palm tree, and the partially buried mirror. He bared his teeth, wondering what sort of world he was cursed to bare. Perhaps he resided upon the only piece of land the world offered. Or maybe, it was a world of sea beasts - incomprehensible and insanity inducing to merely look upon. The creeping idea of hopelessness, or lack of salvation, was something he growled at. He would never accept either, not when the fire within him, that made him, continued to roar and burn…

As Thorax resolved himself however, standing with a firm posture and giving a fiery stare to the ocean that surrounded him, he waited a moment before releasing a sigh; sagging and falling to his rump. He sat, passively staring at what was before him. If he were in his own world, and was here of his own volition, he may have found it quaint. It was quiet. Not the type of quiet that followed a battle, or an order of silence, or that which came after finally choking a struggling entity of its life. It was a natural quiet. One composed of gentle winds, and subtle ripples in the ocean as a result. It was a quiet he could even close his eyes to...

He breathed. The solution to this conundrum would not come to him immediately. He’d need to wait, to ponder; primarily with closed eyes under the shade of the palm tree whilst the warm heat of the sun brushed again him. Yes, it was a torturous endeavour, but he believed himself possessing of the strength to bare it for the time being. He just hoped it did not push him over the edge into madness. He trotted under the shade of a palm frond, his hooves sinking slightly into the soft sand, before he sat under the leaf’s shadow; his posture upright and dignified. He listened closely to the ocean, the tide bringing him out and into a state of drowsiness, his mind beginning to conjure up solutions – both the reasonable, and the impossible. From trying to gather up enough clouds to form a sky barge to travel on, and wondering if he was possessing of enough power to entirely boil and dissipate the ocean around him. One of the two of these ideas was inherently foolish of course… there was nary a cloud in the sky.

Time passed. He didn’t know how much. It never occurred to him to count the passing seconds. The only only indication of him no longer being in the present was how the heat felt upon his carapace. Gradually, it went from strongest on his cheek, to his muzzle; morning to noon. Despite that, he never arrived at a conclusion, a rock solid idea. His mind actually became barren. That, too, he didn’t know how much long after it was. It wasn’t too long after the heat felt strongest on the end of his muzzle that he felt an idea coming at him. It was coming fast in fact. Something heavy. Something that… whistled?

His eyelids parted, before widening further, the deep red pools reflecting off them a prominent iron sphere that was coming down from above. On reflex, he felt his horn spark – ready to intercept or shield himself – yet his jagged horn only fizzled in reply to his whim. His brows raised, and his body simply moved on instinct; leaping backwards to the base of the tree, dishevelled, watching as the object inevitably came toward him. He flinched, and then…

Thump!

He didn’t feel anything. Unless he was dead, then that was a perfectly reasonable explanation. But he was thinking too, so surely he lived. He didn’t know why he continued to muse if he was alive, when he could simply open his eyes, yet he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time in that particular moment: powerless. He opened his eyes. The sky was devoid, looking much alike to the ocean below it. His eyes fell down, locking onto what landed between his legs. A sphere, a heavy looking iron ball embedded in the sand. Off it, were a few wisps of smoke, the surface tinged where it had hit the sand; creating a few splinters of glass.

“Is that… a cannonball?” asked aloud, the question being semi-rhetorical; a part of him still consumed with disbelief. He looked out ahead of him right after. Far off, in the distance, completely still in the water, was a colossal ship. However, he didn’t have much time to gawk at it - registering only its stark white colour - as movement in the ocean right before him tore his eyes away from the mighty vessel.

Sailing toward his island were two paddle boats, carrying about four ponies each. When Thorax landed his eyes upon them, he noted a few raised brows, although the majority of them wore menacing grins; some even brandishing weapons between their teeth - primarily cutlasses, and knives. Which in itself was peculiar, as some of the ponies holding weapons had horns. Some wore bandanas, some simple cloth shirts and even a couple had eyepatches. Yet, the sight of armed - and admittedly, intimidating - ponies wasn’t enough to render him afraid, or even worried as he shifted onto his hooves; wearing a cocky grin as their boats grounded.

As they landed upon the sand, approaching him with a deliberate and tactful slowness, Thorax felt his grin grow wider. He summoned his armour, and conjured his flaming zweihanders; fashioning a plan. He’d kill them all, steal their boats, commandeer the even larger boat, and search for a way off this damnable world. Except he realised shortly after, his armour wasn’t attached to his carapace nor were any of his blades aloft in the air. His eyes widened in panic, and he took a fearful step back, skittishly looking around him for his impudent conjurations.

“Oy, oy, you’re a weird lookin’ one ain’tcha? Only pony I’ve seen as tall as you is tha’ captain.” a heavily accented stallion remarked, dressed in a motley assortment of white and yellow rags; grinning to his similarly dressed cohorts. His attire wasn’t particularly off putting, however, Thorax saw around his neck a peculiar necklace. They appeared to be a motley assortment of coloured cones, some spiralled and others lined. For some reason, Thorax felt his head ache.

Some of the ponies cornered him till his back touched the tree, a few others surrounded the mirror, looking over it with avarice stares. “Makes you wonder why he's got a mirror then,” another remarked, prompting a few of his compatriots to laugh. “It’s a pretty fancy lookin’ one too.”

“Looks like ol’ Shiny is getting rusty,” one of them commented pedantically, kicking the lodged cannonball before releasing a yelp, suckling her hurt hoof. “Hot, hot!”

“Still knows how to charge ‘em though,” another remarked, in jest, before throwing an eye to Thorax. “You’re pretty lucky you’re still in one piece, ya know.”

“Or unlucky,” another shrugged, the mare who kicked the ball, chuckling. “I wonder what the captain has in store for him… it’s a he, right?” she asked, joking, even if her tone was audible in questioning.

The ponies continued to leer at him for a few moments, before the stallion from before - the one who commented on his appearance - took a step towards him. “You’re a quiet one ain’tcha?” the stallion from before commented, smiling. “What? Scared of a few pirates?”

“Pirates?” Thorax said aloud, brows furrowed and audibly bemused.

“Privateers,” the stallion replied to the Overlord’s confusion.

“Swashbucklers,” the mare beside him added.

“Mauraudering reavers to a few,” another stallion commented, quietly.

“So you’re a bunch of murderous thieves,” Thorax uttered with visible distaste, sneering at the ponies gathered around him.

The mare scoffed at him. “You just described half the world, love.”

A crease formed between the changeling’s brows. “Half the world? Pirates?”

The stallion before him smirked, raising a brow. “Where’ve you been livin’ all your life?” he asked rhetorically. “The captain is gonna ‘ave a field day with you, she is.”

“Do you honestly think I’d go with you anywhere? I am so inconceivably above you all, that you may as well be mere ants confronting an Ursa,” he spat at them his conceit, snarling. “If you wish to avoid suffering at my hooves, I suggest to the lot of you to throw yourselves into the ocean and let the sea take you, because what I have in mind for each and every one of you is fire and pikes!” he threatened, baring his teeth, showing off his fangs.

The assorted gathering of pirates, all wearing neutral or blank expressions during his threatening tirade, suddenly broke out into guffaws and bombastic laughing. “Is he for real?” the mare asked between bouts of laughter.

“Oh, the captain is for sure gunna ‘ave some fun with you,” the stallion before him confirmed, wiping a tear from his eye. “You lot, get the mirror in one boat - I’m sure the captain will appreciate a nice bit ‘o loot. I’ll take ‘ol red reindeer ‘ere with me.”

“Reindeer? Reindeer!” he repeated, loudly and insulted. “I am Thorax, the Overlord of all chang-”

The Overlord was interrupted by a sucker punch across his right cheek, causing his forelegs to buckle - partially out of surprise and due to the wince inducing pain the strike wrought. “Alright, I think you’ve done enough talking, red eyes,” the stallion said, shaking the hoof he used to punch Thorax with.

“You… you punched me!” Thorax stated, rising back up with a hoof held to his cheek, mouth parted in disbelief.

“You got annoying,” he replied. “Now c’mon. Get on the boat. It’d be a shame to gut you,” he said, smiling. Thorax got the distinct impression he wasn’t genuine in his remorse.

Growling, Thorax acquiesced. He followed the mare, the stallion following him. A few of the other pirates unlodged the mirror from the sand, carrying it to the other boat as Thorax’s entourage filled the other. He was placed in the middle, about six of the eight sharing the boat as two had the job of escorting the mirror. The changeling kept his eyes low and his lips pursed, seeing out of his peripherals the menacing grins and wild-eyed stares of the ponies surrounding him. The row boat rocked gently in the water, the ponies pushing the oars back and forth heaving; the gentle breeze and rocking occasionally flicking droplets of water onto his muzzle. Again, much like how he savoured the quiet, the feeling of little specks of water landing upon his snout was pleasant, helping to alleviate the mercilessness of the sun above. Yet the feeling of quaintness was soured by being cramped between six ponies - all of which smelled rank with alcohol and sea water.

He only looked up from the splintered deck of the rowboat when he felt shade come over him, feeling something akin to awe when his eyes landed upon the vessel. From afar, and from how briefly he looked at it, he couldn’t discern its size. Up close, it was gargantuan, the entire construct creaking under its own weight. There were nine masts, the two largest easily dwarfed a small castle; each holding several large sails which gently rippled with the caught wind. The hull looked thick, and was coated in a stark white paint. The fact that it wasn’t peeling inferred that it was somewhat fresh, and Thorax did not envy the poor souls who had to paint such a thing. He felt his jaw ache just looking at it. He glanced at the figurehead, the wood carved visage unmistakably that of a bird of some sort. Its beak sharp and pointed, piercing - a subtle glint revealing to the changeling that it was capped with some sort of metal, and streaks of faded, peeling orange covered parts of it. However, what caused his brow to pique with intrigue was the name painted upon its side. It was done in a tangerine orange, in exquisite caligraphy that definitely wasn’t the work of a pirate...

The Chasing Sun

“What ‘ave you got there, you mangy scruffs?” a stout voice called from the top deck, attracting the eyes of Thorax and all in the boat.

“A bit o’ treasure, and a piece o’ rubbish, love,” the mare called back, smiling coyly to the changeling right after, who met her stare with bared teeth.

“Why not throw it in the sea then?” the stallion called back, giving a chesty laugh.

“It talks!” the accented stallion answered, scoffing. “Gave me and the rest o’ the lads such a good laugh I’d thought we’d take ‘im to the captain before we throw ‘im overboard.”

“Excellent idea,” the stallion up top concurred, just as several ropes were thrown over the boat’s railing, the ends falling below the surface of the water. “And the loot?”

“A mirra,’ rims gotta be silver,” the stallion answered, nodding to the other boat. “Captain ought ta appreciate it in ‘er quarters.”

As they spoke, a pirate at each end of the rowboat threaded each of the fallen ropes through a steel ring; each tying a tight knot with impressive speed. When each of them finished, they tugged on each a few times before the boat was heft upwards, the suddenness of it making Thorax lurch forwards - unable to balance himself. He heard a few of them laughing at him, feeling his immense vexation grow hotter and hotter in its intensity. Each of the boats were hauled up, the two apparently belonging to a reserved crane hanging that hung over the ocean.

The ascent was slow and unsteady, rocking from side to side, and eventually Thorax was able to keep some semblance of balance. About halfway up, Thorax was able to hear heaving, and then many voices, so many in fact he couldn’t discern what a single thing was being said. He could feel a general aura from it - he couldn’t help it, for he was a changeling after all. There was a strange feeling of devotion. Something beyond loyalty. Yet the most peculiar things he felt were the wide array of contrasts felt by the crew. There was a willingness to betray, but also to sacrifice. Order, and chaos. Anarchy and law. Complete hatred, but also love. Thorax snorted. If his magic betrayed him, then surely his senses did too.

With a final huff, the rowboat was jolted up, coming into its hanger; idly rocking from side to side. Thorax remained seated as the ponies got off the boat, haphazardly leaping off it onto the deck, rocking it back and forth - prompting the changeling to become firm in his posture. When he was the second to last on the boat, Throax put his hooves onto the rim of the boat, looking onto the deck from above with a sneer. He was doubtless in his assertion that such a large ship would require an equally large crew, yet the exact figure of such never entered into his wildest fantasies. He could only fathom how many resided below the top deck, as his immediate estimate of above was several hundred - the sheer size of the ship meaning that there was more than enough room for all of them to scurry about on the pale wooden deck. However, as he surveyed it, he frowned when he noted the actual space between the boat and deck. It was larger than he initially perceived, at the very least four feet, ample enough to give him a clear enough view of the perilous waters below. He’d have to be careful in his crossing…

“Oopsie daisy!” proclaimed the last pirate, before deftly delivering a forceful push to Thorax’s rear, sending the changeling vaulting towards the deck.

Thorax yelped as he crashed face first into the floor, groaning as his body ached; lying flat against the deck. “Someone’s clumsy,” the accented stallion jested, standing over Thorax with a smarmy grin.

“Go die,” Thorax replied, climbing to his hooves. “Preferably in a manner that is painful.”

The stallion nodded, his brows furrowed and his frown excessive in mock consideration; sharing a look with the small band of pirates that surrounded the changeling. Suddenly, he swung his hoof, colliding with the changeling’s left cheek; striking him hard and sending him reeling to the deck floor. “Ya got a bit o’ fire in ya,” he said, chuckling, before glancing off some to his left. “Be careful with tha’ mirror or I’ll wring yer neck. You’ll be goin’ in first,” he instructed, before striding off to his right - the ship’s stern. “Someone pick ‘im up. We’re takin’ the blighter to the captain.”

“I’m fully capable of walking,” Thorax spat, rubbing his swelling cheek. He saw a few more of the pirates gathered around - more than the initial eight - and the changeling looked off towards where the pirate was heading. He was familiar enough with the anatomy of a ship to know the rear was where the captain resided, although the bloated abode was more befitting of an aristocrat than a lowly ship captain. It was about three stories high, with sizable oak double doors, which themselves decorated with an intricate design that glittered with golden embeddings. Was this actually a pirate ship?

“C’mon then,” the mare from before nudged his rear, encouraging him on with a leer. “We don’t have time to be a’wastin’.”

Thorax huffed, and began to trail behind the ruffian of a stallion, his teeth grit. Glancing around as he walked, he saw a multitude of mares and stallions - all pirates alike - begin to progressively surround him. He noted a few particularly young looking ones, his stoic expression threatening to break out into one of disbelief at the sight of a colt - adorned in a yellow bandana, the same colours of those around him. He glanced up, seeing some looking down upon him from the quarter deck, some others from high upon the masts and shrounds. Thorax stopped when the stallion in front of him did, allowing the mirror to be brought passed him into the grand quarters of the captain.

There was something oddly… familiar about all this. Thorax raised a brow at the stallion’s straightened posture, sensing fear and respect. That feeling he felt from the stallion came strongest from the chambers, where he felt it in such abundance it rekindled within him a feeling of nostalgia for a time before he came to this world, when such feelings where directed toward him. From within, he heard general chatter, and the faint tune of an unfamiliar instrument. He couldn’t pick up from amongst all the voices that of the captain, if they even spoke at all. Several minutes passed, all the while Thorax had to avoid the stares and threatening smiles of the vagabonds, and for no reason he could discern the stallion continued his way into the chambers.

The interior of the chambers was less splendid than the Overlord was expecting. Fortunately, his eyes weren’t too affected by the low light of the chambers, giving him a decent enough view of what the room was primarily comprised of. For the others residing within, he couldn’t imagine that the little light there was - coming from a few meagre slits high in the walls, all cut into the hull in such a way as to have all the rays concentrated to the singular point in the room’s centre. Looking around, Thorax saw the silhouettes of many ponies, some with bright eyes, others directing their grins toward him. Placed, somewhat arbitrarily, Thorax saw a grey coated mare with striking purple eyes, her inky mane blending into the darkness. Meanwhile, her hooves turned a crank on a peculiar machine; a slow, melodious and somewhat ominous tune being produced by a wheel spinning against taught strings. Her expression was stoic, which oddly put the changeling at more unease than the menagerie of grins that surrounded him.

The stallion stopped after a few minutes of walking, and, in an act which prompted Thorax to raise his brows, prostrated himself to somepony before him. It was then Thorax realised why the quarters kindled a feeling of familiarity within him… it was a throne room. “My Captain,” he began, “me, Reed and the rest o’ the colts have brought ya somethin’.”

Now that he was lowered, Thorax could see where the stallion’s submission was directed. There was a raised platform, just before where the many slits of light were directed. It was either a bed, or an oversized cushioned chair. Incredibly decadent with its pillow spread either way. There were a few resting upon it, mares and stallions; their heads draped atop the overly large body who was splayed out across the unusual throne. What’s more, there was an incredibly dazzling sight behind the raised platform; the unmistakable twinkling of jewels and gold. A dragon’s hoard worth of riches was simply in plain sight, its owner either careless, or extremely boastful.

He tore his eyes away, back to the raised platform, where he still couldn’t make out the face of the captain - obscured behind darkness and smoke; the end of a smoking pipe intermittently intensifying as its smoker puffed on the burning leaf. Upon the stallion finishing his sentence, the captain’s horn lit up in a golden aura - the horn half as long as the average hoof - removing the smoking pipe and shining a slight light upon the captain’s muzzle. It can’t be, Thorax thought, his next exhale coming out in a quiver as he felt panic begin to rise up in his chest. The captain rose from their clandestine throne, the mares and stallions laying partially upon their leader groaning at the absence. Thorax took an instinctive step back as the captain stepped forwards under the directed light, the changeling bumping into one of his escort. Just in time to see the captain wear an almost predatory grin.

“Well, well, well,” the Captain began, her voice feminine yet filled with a jagged edge, uncouth and rowdy. She looked out over the room. “It looks like, Half-Horn won’t be pouring his own rum this week!” she proclaimed to the room, and was met with loud hooting and cheering, her visible chuckle unheard over the volume. “Bah, shut it ya scabby knaves,” she called out, the voices all dying down at her immediate command; the roguish smile still worn on her face. She then looked to Thorax, nodding the now named, Half-Horn, away - the stallion flashing the changeling a grin as he passed by him. “You’re certainly exotic, aren’t you?” the Captain purred, before smirking. “An oddity, and a pretty mirror-”

“Only ‘cause it reflects you, Captain!” a lone voice heckled, earning a cacophony of murmuring agreements and stamping hooves.

“Oh, shush,” she called back, smiling widely, before setting her gaze back on the changeling. The sharpness of her one eyed glare was enough to render him immobile. He matched the height of her, almost double the size of any regular pony. Much like the others he had seen, she too was dressed in a haphazard combination of things. Her mane was short, cut to about neck’s length and was partially hidden beneath a tri-pointed hat - several large feathers coming off the top of it, and a large tear where her horn poked forth from. She also wore a brown cloth jacket, which despite her large size, clearly wasn’t tailored for her; instead, more befitting of a minotaur’s frame than her own, the sleeves coming to stop just above her fetlocks. The most striking piece of apparel upon her, however, was that on her face. Covering her right eye was an eyepatch, the design of the sun embedded upon it in tiny yellow and amber jewels. She was entirely unrecognisable from his own world, but the changeling was certain of who this mare was, unmistakably.

“You’re-”

The changeling interrupted by a jab in his side, a glance to his right confirming it was the mare from before. “Speak only when spoken to, Red Eyes!”

“Calm down, Reed,” the Captain chortled. “He’s new to this merry ship. He’ll learn the rules… in time.”

“Rules? You’re pirates-” yet again, he felt a jab in his side. “Ow! Stop doing that!” he directed at Reed, who merely grinned at his irritated tone.

“We’re pirates, true,” the Captain confirmed, half-smiling. “But a loose ship deserves only to be at the bottom of the ocean. By my guns. Rules make a crew, and a crew makes a ship, Red Eyes.”

“My name is Tho- ow!”

“You don’t learn, do you?” the Captain smiled, her stare becoming intense; as if he “Now, a question. Do you know who I am?” she asked, her tone inferring that a lot rested upon its answer.

Thorax furrowed his brow, raising his chin slightly. “You’re Princess-”

“Princess?” the Captain interrupted, shaking her head as some ponies murmured around them. “I’m not a princess. Such a title is below me,” she said simply, chuckling.

He was sure this was her. Same mane, same coat, an alicorn to be sure. He raised his brow. “Then who are you?”

The question elicited a few shocked gasps around the room, and also a few foreboding chuckles. The Captain’s grin grew large, almost sadistic, as her eye widened. She gave a curt laugh, taking another step toward the changeling. “I am the Sea’s Thane, the Breaker Of Monsters and Banisher of Dark, the White Patron of Canter’s Not,” as she spoke, each pause prompting a further step towards Thorax, the gap between them shrinking. “I am the Captain of the Chasing Sun, a Queen of Every Sea,” by now, only a single step separated the two, the ivory coated mare leaning forwards, until her singular magenta eye reflected off his own.

“I am Celestia."