Curses, Like Chickens, Come Home to Roost
Silverstream had never woken up so blissfully. In a cozy study converted into a balmy roost, she lay on a nest made of soft hay, light pink feathers, and bright blue fur. Window blinds glowed with the sunrise. Gallus’s arms swaddled her, and his beak rested on the back of her head. Each of his breaths sent ripples across her cheek.
She resisted the urge to rouse him with a tickle. Her husband deserved to sleep in today. He’d had an exhausting night, more than anyone in Mount Aris.
Well, anyone besides Silverstream.
Resting snugly in her arms, their beautiful new egg radiated with warmth. Beige freckles swirled like galaxies across its oblong golden shell. It was as big as a coconut, but it felt tiny as she pressed it to her heart. And its scent! Like baking bread and the sea at dawn fused with a pungent ripeness. She loved their egg more than anything in the world.
Well, anything besides her husband. The urge to wake him finally overwhelmed her. She stretched a dancing set of claws into his chest, tickling his wishbone until his paws jerked and wriggled against her sides.
“G’ morning tuh yoo.” He yawned. “I had the craziest dream about you laying an egg last night.”
“Your dream came true!”
“Dreams do that?” he murmured. “Next time I should dream about getting into the Wonderbolts.”
She nudged her elbow into him with a snicker, and he squeezed her back.
They were almost parents! Soon the shell she clutched would crack and new life would tumble out. Once that moment came, Silverstream would be a mom and Gallus would be a dad, and together their family would explore the world as if it were new again.
Thinking about it made her nostalgic. Her earliest memories were her mom cooing “my pearl,” over and over to Terramar’s egg. After he’d hatched, Silverstream had taken her role as a big sister seriously, protecting him from bullies and teaching him how to hide from the Storm King’s patrols. Now it’d be her and Gallus’s turn, except without the living-underwater-in-mortal-terror part.
She felt Gallus drifting off to sleep, so she arched her back to wake him again. “Isn’t this amazing?” she asked.
Gallus didn’t reply with words. Instead, he stretched his talon up her arm, as if she were the bridge leading him to their egg. His talon overlapped hers, and she held her breath, waiting for contact.
Until the door knocker barked. He pulled away and left the roost.
Their suite in the recently finished Mount Aris Palace was modest by royal standards, but she still heard him padding through the living room and foyer for half a minute before the front door creaked open. He returned with two guests: Dr. Salina, an elegant hippogriff who’d been a physician to the royal family for years, and Felix Beak, a mousy unicorn stallion.
“How are our mom-to-be and her lovely egg today?” Dr. Salina asked as she swept in.
“Great!” Silverstream resisted another sudden urge, this time to hold up the egg and proclaim, I made this! Instead she slid to the edge of the nest for a little privacy while Dr. Salina examined her.
Meanwhile, Felix Beak peered at the egg. He was a world-renowned griffonologist from Canterlot University whom they’d invited to Mount Aris. When Silverstream and Gallus had first thought about having children, no one in Mount Aris knew if it was even possible, so she had written to him to ask. He’d written back immediately to say yes, it was quite possible, but the last time it’d happened was hundreds of years ago.
“Shell pigmentation, and presumably density, is characteristically griffonian,” Felix Beak muttered, “although overall size is more consistent with that of a hippogriff egg.” He magically summoned a tape measure, stretched it around the egg, and jotted in a notepad. “Girth is equivalent to a hippogriff egg.” The tape measure snapped lengthwise over the egg and paused. He frowned. “Hmph.”
“Hmph?” Gallus said. “Is that a good ‘hmph,’ or a bad ‘hmph’?”
Felix Beak’s tape measure vanished. “I am merely noting that the egg is abnormally long.”
“Which means…” The hint of a growl crept into Gallus’s voice.
“Oh, probably nothing,” Dr. Salina chimed in. “A lot of first-time moms have their eggs pop out a little funny. But, every once in a while, a larger egg means two chicks.”
“You mean we could have twinsies?!” Silverstream squirmed with glee.
“It’s impossible to tell at this time,” Felix Beak said. “Due to the shell’s thickness, candling will produce inconclusive results at best.”
“I guess we’ll find out when they hatch.” Dr. Salina winked.
After the checkup finished, Gallus walked the pair back to the front door while Silverstream, of course, stayed with the egg. She imagined their child—or children!—hatched and fluttering around their home. They’d all play hide and seek together, just like she and Terramar used to play with her parents. There’d be one difference, though: when Silverstream was the seeker, she’d really play the part. Ooh, I’m the evil Squall Queen, and I’m going to get you! she’d crow in the wickedest voice she could muster. Run all you want, but you can’t hide from me, you little—
Her daydream froze. What was she supposed to call a half-hippogriff, half-griffon?
Gallus came back to the roost. “Well, that was reassuring,” he snarked.
“What?”
“That unicorn made it sound like something’s wrong.” He grimaced. “‘Abnormally long,’ my tail feathers.”
“Silly, you don’t have tail feathers.” Although she double-checked her husband’s hindquarters to make sure. Nope, still the same cute butt he always had. “C’mere, you big kitty, help me keep the egg warm.” She patted a spot on the nest for him.
There was a second of hesitation. Maybe Felix Beak’s remark still bugged him, or maybe the room’s stuffiness put him off. Either way, before Gallus could move, another crack came from the front door knocker, and he left to answer it. She heard Terramar’s voice next.
“Uncle-to-be here!”
“And grandparents-to-be,” her dad’s voice added. Soon her brother, mom, and dad were barging into the roost to exchange hugs. Gallus remained at the doorway. If he’d meant to stay out of the hug-fest, it didn’t work. As soon as her dad had finished with her, he threw his arms around Gallus. Gallus went stiff and bug-eyed, like he always did during a surprise hug.
When her mom embraced her, Silverstream whispered into her ear, “I made this!”
“And what a magnificent thing it is!” Her mom pulled away and caressed the egg. “My pearl, I love it beyond words.”
A tiny squeal escaped Silverstream’s beak.
“Official couriers were dispatched to the other realms last night,” her mom continued in a formal tone. “We’ve received replies from the Changeling Kingdom and Equestria already. King Thorax, Princess Celestia, and Princess Luna all wrote that they are overjoyed for your wonderful news. Princess Celestia will personally ensure our message reaches Ponyville without delay.”
So they’d hear from Sandbar soon! “What about Skystar and Auntie Novo?” They had gone on a diplomatic mission to the Changeling Kingdom a few days ago.
“Princess Skystar will return to Mount Aris tomorrow.” A twinkle came to her mom’s eyes, although her tone remained formal. “She will escort the changelings’ Assistant Deputy Archivist.”
“That’s Ocellus!” Silverstream cheered. “Ocellus is coming!”
Her mom went on to recount news from other realms. Couriers probably hadn’t reached the Dragon Lands yet, and a late spring blizzard was slowing flights to Yakyakistan, so hearing from Smolder and Yona might take a while.
Silverstream didn’t mind. She was surrounded by her loved ones, and more were coming. This day would be one of the happiest of her life, and nothing could ruin that.
Afternoon sunbeams speckled their egg in butterscotch and caramel, chestnut and almond, orange and pumpkin, chocolate and coffee with lots of milk and sugar.
Terramar and her parents had left an hour ago with the promise to come back tomorrow, leaving her and Gallus to relax. She’d stayed by the egg while he’d napped in the middle of the room. He was awake now, though he hadn’t risen. His tail flicked pensively.
“They’re going to be royalty, aren’t they?” Gallus asked.
“You mean our kids? Yeah, silly, that’s how things work when you have the Queen for a great-aunt.”
Gallus’s tail flicked again. “When your mom started talking about Queen Novo and Princess Skystar coming to visit, it took me a second to remember they’re your relatives. Is that dumb?”
“Of course not. I forget I’m royalty half the time. You probably do, too.”
He startled. Apparently he had forgotten that marrying the Queen’s niece made him part of the royal family. “That’s a lot to put on a hatchling, though. Royal duties, being a symbol of their realm, leading a nation…all that stuff.”
“Oh, relax, it’s really not a big deal. The worst that happens is somegriff might get in your face with a camera.”
“Wait, they do that?”
“No, no,” she said quickly, “I was just thinking out loud.”
Although they would have to talk about the press someday. A few years ago, a tabloid paper had assigned photographers to constantly follow members of the royal family. A whole flock tailed Queen Novo, a duo stalked Princess Skystar, and there had even been one watching Silverstream’s mom for a while. One time, before she and Gallus had married, Silverstream had been shopping with Princess Skystar when one of Skystar’s photographers got a little too close to them. Silverstream had snapped at him until he flew away. She’d felt proud of herself at the time, but the next day her gaping beak was printed across the tabloid’s front page.
What would it be like for their children? Her and Gallus’s wedding had been in the news briefly, and there would be an announcement in a respectable newspaper when the egg hatched. Would they be left alone after that? Or would half-hippogriff-half-griffon (whatever that was called) royal hatchlings be irresistible?
Even with their egg beside her and her husband just a few yards away, Silverstream felt alone. She patted an open space on the nest. “Do you want to sit with me? The nest is nice and comfy.”
“I bet I look terrific,” Gallus grumbled. Unpreened feathers and tufts of matted fur hung off of him. “Real father to the royal hatchlings material. I should wash up.”
“It’s not like anyone’s going to barge in today,” she said, but he was already walking out. She was fighting her stiff legs to rise when the door knocker cracked again. For a second, she was struck by the idea that the tabloid’s photographers had arrived. Skystar said they’d sometimes pretend to bring deliveries or be tourists looking for directions. Silverstream imagined a gaggle of them on the other side of the front door, their cameras primed to go off as soon as the door opened even the slightest bit.
The front door’s hinges creaked. “Uh…are you trying to sell those door-to-door or something?” Gallus asked.
Silverstream tensed.
“Dude, congrats!” came Sandbar’s soothing voice. “Spike told me this morning, and I got the first train out of Ponyville. I don’t know how, but Pinkie Pie already knew and had gone a little crazy baking all these cupcakes. Where should I leave them?”
All the paranoia vanished as Sandbar trotted in, hauling what sounded like a cart on the brink of collapse under the weight of baked goods. Then he and Gallus appeared in the roost, Sandbar to hug her and say how gorgeous their egg was, Gallus to stand back and beam.
Seeing Gallus happy turned her heart to jelly. She hadn’t realized how sorely she’d missed the sight.
The egg’s scent changed throughout the day. By that evening, a sharp, mineral fragrance replaced the sea-smell, while the baking bread aroma blossomed. Sweetness mellowed the ripe odor into a pleasant, subdued earthiness. She savored it all.
On a rug by the door, Gallus lay on his back with his tongue lolling out of his beak and his paws twitching. His face was a sickly shade of green, and his crest was wilted. “Eugh,” he moaned.
Silverstream empathized. Sandbar had left her and Gallus with box upon box of cupcakes fresh from Ponyville, and he’d said he would come by the next morning to help them whittle down their leftovers. The way she and especially Gallus had gorged, there wouldn’t be many left.
She rolled onto her back and caught Gallus’s eye. “Those cupcakes are good, aren’t they?”
“Dangerously good.”
“How many did you eat?”
“I had…lots.”
“Lots? Like ten? Twenty?”
“More.”
“How many more?”
He thought for a moment. “How many cupcakes do you think a griffon could eat before it killed them?”
She giggled. “For a normal griffon, probably a hundred. For you, though…a thousand!”
“Cool. Then I must have had a thousand and one cupcakes, because I feel like I’m about to die.”
“Nooooooo!” she cried. Her arms flailed theatrically in his general direction.
“My last breath…is just enough…” he rasped in a voice oozing with melodrama, “for a final…I love you…”
“I love you toooo,” she crooned. Even though they were playacting, she tingled hearing him say it.
“Bury me with…the cupcakes…” he croaked, “so I can finish them…in the afterlife!” At last, Gallus went limp.
“Ooh, sorry honey, hippogriffs don’t do burials.” She flipped onto her side, and her legs slipped effortlessly around the egg. “Guess I’ll have to eat the rest later, to ease my grief as a young widow. Mind coming back to life for a second to pack them up?”
Gallus rolled to all fours with a groan. Part of her wanted him to forget all about the cupcakes and come snuggle with her.
“Hurry back when you’re done. This nest is a great place for you to rest in peace.”
He seemed lost in thought. “You know, this is all kind of familiar. Remember when the six of us ran off to that old castle?”
“I do! Sandbar went to Ponyville and got us a cart full of scrumptious cupcakes then, too!”
He started for the door. “I was thinking, what if we took the hatchlings there?” he said from the hallway.
“You mean to Ponyville? We should! They’ll be old enough to travel by autumn, and Equestria is so pretty then. Plus, it’ll give our old profs a chance to meet them.”
She heard him ferrying boxes from the living room to the kitchen. “I meant the castle itself. We can see if they lose their minds over stairs like you did.”
“Hey, that was the first time I’d ever seen them! Besides, according to A Brief History of Stairs, the Castle of the Two Sisters has some of the first examples of Swifthoofian style apron-and-sprandel structures in Equestrian history. I was gawking over something architecturally significant, even if I didn’t know it then!”
“You do know I got you that book as a prank, right?”
“Yes…” She’d read it cover-to-cover, though. “Anyway, we are not bringing our hatchlings to an abandoned castle in the middle of the forest. What if pukwudgies showed up again?”
“It’d build character,” he scoffed.
“Silly. Keeping a hatchling safe is so much work. Do you remember Marengo from the wedding? She was the flower girl with that deep blue mane.”
A box came down with a thud. “What about her?”
“I used to foalsit for her while her parents were on guard duty,” Silverstream said. “This was when we were all in Seaquestria. She has a really bad allergy to kelp, which was everywhere, so I had to be super careful with her. Triple checking everything I cooked for her, making sure no one brought any kelp snacks if they came over to play, pulling up anything that might have been kelp when we went to a playground. Her parents also gave me these pills that I was supposed to give her if she touched any of it, but luckily I never had to use them. It was really scary, though!”
Gallus had stopped moving in the kitchen. “Huh,” he said after a pause. “That kind of reminds me of someone from Griffonstone.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Sounds of folding cardboard came from the kitchen. Gallus was throwing out the empty boxes. “There was a guy named Gerald. Gerald the Giant. He was rail thin, but taller than Princess Celestia. He got cubs like me to run errands for him. Paid well, too, but I had to be quick with his jobs. In the morning he was nice, for a griffon, but if I took too long and got back to him in the afternoon, he’d tear me to pieces. Worse, if I got back after sundown, he’d refuse to even answer the door, so I wouldn’t get paid! I couldn’t figure the guy out, and eventually just stopped taking work from him. Then someone told me his story.”
The box-folding noise became ripping sounds.
“Gerald had a disorder that made all his joints loose. You know how some hippogriffs are double jointed? He had that and then some. He’d show off sometimes by bending his front claws all the way to his wrist. That was neat to see, but everything else sucked for him. His back was so weak that it went totally bow-shaped if he stood for more than an hour or two. That’s why he got so grouchy by the afternoon: he was in agony.”
“That’s terrible,” Silverstream said. Gallus almost never talked about Griffonstone, but she hoped he was done with this story.
“That’s not even the terrible part!” Gallus sounded anxious, his voice higher and his words coming faster. “This disorder messed with his heart valves too. Turned them inside out. If he tried to fly, his heart would fall apart, and he’d be dead before he hit the ground. That’s the reason he had us doing stuff for him.”
Cardboard crumpled against the trash can. The noise stopped, and a quiet moment passed.
“How unfair is that? You live your whole life hurting so much it knocks you down by the end of the day, while something as simple as flying could kill you. Someone should have helped him out.”
His claws tapped against the living room floor, drawing closer.
“But I didn’t.”
Gallus appeared at the door. For a second, he didn’t have the adoring gaze of a father-to-be regarding his wife and egg, but a scowl as hard as Griffonstone’s shrillest winds.
“Honey?” she whispered.
He didn’t seem to hear her.
“Honey,” she tried. “Gallus.”
The look vanished. “Sorry, I was just…running my beak.”
“It’s okay. Come up here.” She patted the space beside her. “Help me keep our egg warm. Please.”
It was a flash, an electric spark, but the scowl returned and evaporated again.
“I’m going to get some air on the balcony,” he said and, discreetly, rubbed his eyes. “Clear my head.”
Dusk and moonlight washed away the egg’s golden hues and transformed it into a mosaic of wondrous gems. Watching it glitter like a teeming treasure chest captivated Silverstream. She hummed to it, certain they were listening inside, even though Dr. Salina had said they wouldn’t grow ears for another two weeks. With it cradled in her arms, she felt utterly calm.
She had to leave it, though.
“Mommy’s going to be right back, my pearl,” she promised before she went.
Damp sea air swathed her as she stepped onto the balcony. Its tile floor chilled her hooves and claws. The sound of crashing waves and the distant whistle from Harmonizing Heights mixed into a plaintive susurrus. She looked to the railing, a wall along the edge built low for easy takeoffs and landings, and then to her side, where Gallus sat with his back pressed against a corner.
She smiled sweetly at him and tried to keep his eye. He glanced away.
“You got me thinking,” she said.
Now he watched her, his head bowed and expression guarded.
“After you talked about the castle,” she continued, “I thought about how much we’ve been through together.”
She paused to let him fill in the silence, but he didn’t, so she went on.
“There were some silly things, like that time Discord chased us with haunted paintings, or when that really old stallion that Yona liked threw us out of a window with a shovel. Then, our second year, there was—”
“Star Swirl’s guest lecture,” he quipped.
“Oh my gosh!” she gasped. “You know how he put that minute-of-silence hex on me, and it got twice as long every time I tried to speak? It was up to twelve thousand moons before Starlight reversed it! He was so much meaner to me than to you guys.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“He was too! Like with you and Yona, she got to fly and you—”
He jabbed a claw at her. “You promised to never talk about that again!”
Silverstream covered her face to hide her grin. She tried, and failed, to suppress her memories of Gallus’s shaggy coat and unwieldy horns. “But you were so huggable as a yak.”
For a second they were frozen, two creatures silently reliving everything that had made them friends and more. She broke into giggles, and he followed soon after.
“Okay, okay, I guess being a yak wasn’t so bad,” he said as their laughter wound down.
“I don’t think there’s anything too bad for us.” She started walking towards him. “And I don’t just mean the silly stuff. I mean like with Cozy Glow. When I think about how we stopped her, there’s two things I remember more than anything else. One is how you were so brave.”
He shook, and his tail curled around his legs submissively. Not the reaction she expected, but that was okay. She had his attention. This next part mattered the most.
“And the second thing is how we won. It wasn’t because we were stronger or faster or smarter, it was because we had the magic of friendship—”
His sudden frown cut her short.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
He sucked in a breath and sighed it out. “You do realize the magic of friendship once trapped me in a shrinking cave under the school, right?”
“Oh,” she said, remembering when the Tree of Harmony had tested all six of them.
“Yeah, just the single most horrifying night of my life,” he said. “No biggie.”
“I don’t remember you being horrified.” Her mind wandered back to that night. It made her feel warm and fuzzy. “I remember you flying in and teaching me how to be brave. And I remember how, afterward, I started to fall in love with you.”
He might have blushed—the darkness made it hard to tell—but he definitely smiled.
Finally she could tell him what she’d come out here to say: that it was okay for him to be afraid of this stupendous change in his life. In fact, it was perfectly natural. However, they’d already overcome much tougher challenges thanks to the magic of friendship. She only needed to remind him, and her courageous husband would come back.
“So I know it can be scary sometimes, but the magic of friendship is also incredible. It brought us together, it helped us save Equestria, and I know it will let you overcome your fear of—”
“I’m not afraid.”
She faltered wordlessly. “But after you told me about that other griffon, Gerald, you started acting so strange.”
“I guess I feel strange,” he said, “but I’ve felt strange all day.”
Had he really? He hadn’t shown it… Then again, maybe he had, at least a little. There’d been his crabbiness about the tabloid, plus his hesitation that morning to join her on the nest. That’d all come after Dr. Salina and Felix Beak had seen them, after Felix Beak had measured the egg.
“Did that unicorn get to you? Like Dr. Salina said, a big egg probably means nothing. It might even be good news!”
“No, it wasn’t him. Not exactly.” He shivered. “Everyone’s so happy about our egg. Salina, your whole family, Sandbar. Even the Princesses and King Thorax wrote those nice letters.”
“Because they all love our egg! Isn’t that exciting?”
“Yeah, it is, but it feels like the only creatures who aren’t totally gaga about it are Felix and…” He winced.
“And who?”
When he didn’t answer, her thoughts began to race. Who else could he be talking about? He’d already mentioned Dr. Salina, Terramar, her mom and dad, Sandbar, everyone who’d written, and Felix Beak, everyone except her and…
“Gallus,” she said slowly, “do you love our egg?”
He shrank away from her and made a noise that might have been, I don’t know. It might have been, No.
Tears stung her cheek. “They’re going to be our children. A dad has to love his kids.”
“Then maybe…” He swallowed. “Maybe I don’t know how to be a dad.”
All she could think was that he’d chosen the exact wrong thing to say: flippant dismissal of his family, of his responsibilities, of love itself. She was speechless.
Then she thought of Terramar. She remembered watching him grow from a hatchling to an uncle-to-be, and how she’d shared in her parents’ excitement for him. She remembered visiting her cousin Skystar and Auntie Novo, and how she’d learned about balancing the duties of a sovereign and a parent. She remembered her time with Marengo, and how she’d first felt responsibility fall wholly on her shoulders. Her family was an immense web of love, she realized, that had held her, and would hold onto her, for her entire life.
Meanwhile, Gallus had grown up alone in Griffonstone. He’d never been someone’s son, never known unconditional love, and so had never learned to be someone’s father. He hadn’t had any family at all before he’d become her husband.
But he was her husband now. That changed everything.
She pounced, wrapping her arms and wings around him, and buried her beak in his fluffy neck scruff. “Lucky for us, I know who can teach you how!”
“What are—”
She didn’t let him finish, instead pulling him up into a three-legged stand. “Two of the best parents in the whole world live right here on Mount Aris, and they’re coming tomorrow!”
“They… How…?”
“They’re going to be grandparents soon,” she said and tugged his talon, leading him into a loping hop-and-skip through the living room. “And they’ll be back to visit their daughter, the egg that’ll hatch into their grandkids…”
“Oh.”
“And the son-in-law they adore!”
He stumbled, but she kept him from falling. His eyes glistened.
“It’ll feel like a lot,” she said as they entered the hallway, “because you’re starting from scratch, and I know that’s an overwhelming place to start. You’re in a whole new world and you’re gawking at all the basics, like I was with stairs! So I promise I’ll help you with everything, and I promise we’ll start easy. For tonight, all you have to do is help keep them warm.”
They arrived at the roost, and she let him go. He looked inside, to her, and then back in. She wouldn’t push him, no matter how fiercely she felt the urge to rush in and pull him along. For him, this was a choice. Maybe it would be a choice for a very long time. But if he could choose to go in tonight, then he could do it again and again until one day it became perfectly natural, like it was for her.
With halting steps, Gallus walked up to the nest. He studied it, and then clambered up as gently as she’d ever seen him move. He maneuvered his hindquarters so his paws could rest behind the egg and scooted his front half to make a semicircle around, but not touching, it.
He glanced at her, and she gave a nod to encourage him. He turned back to the egg. Then, in a tiny nudge, he put himself against it.
“You know, it’s really pretty,” he said.
In that moment, Gallus was more handsome than he’d ever been before.
She floated in and mirrored him, her hooves pressing against his paws and her talons wrapping around his. “I knew you could do it.”
“Eh, that was easy,” he said with a half-smile, although a little shakiness in his voice told her the truth. “I think I’m ready for something tougher.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh yeah? How about this word puzzle: what are we supposed to call half-hippogriff, half-griffons?”
Gallus thought for a moment. “Okay, hippogriff and griffon both have ‘griff’ in them, right?”
She nodded.
“One ends with ‘griff,’ and the other starts with ‘griff,’ so there’s a simple way to combine them.”
She frowned. Hippogriff? Griffon?
Gallus cleared his throat. “And that would be ‘hippogriffon’—”
Realization struck her. “Griffgriff!”
“What?”
“Griffgriff!” she declared and nuzzled her head onto her husband’s talons. “We’re going to call them griffgriffs.”
“Sounds good.” He chuckled as his beak met hers. “Then they’ll be our griffgriffs.”
