My Little Prequel: Friendship is Oblivious

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

Chapter 1

My Little Prequel: Friendship is Oblivious
Or
Making a Cat Save the World: The Adventure

This story contains spoilers for the game Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and the webcomic Prequel.

She had no possessions and no name, and the last of her dreams was dead. All that she had left was one nightmare.

She lay on the filthy straw on the cold stone floor of the cell, and she was nothing. Nothing at all. She wasn't a mage. She wasn't even a real pony.

The cat-ponies, the Khageeti, were only slightly more welcome in the realm of Equestria than the mongrel whelps of the Diamond Dogs. The true ponies sneered at what they termed the Beast Races, and called her a meat eater, a follower of evil cults... a slut. And they were right.

She had tried so hard to find a place in the world, to be helpful, to win a friend. But she was too weak to fight her dreams. All her life, from childhood on, she had been tormented on most nights by a vision of a Queen, a horrid imperious presence towering over her, majestic and malevolent, freezing her to the core with terror and robbing her of restful sleep. She could not flee, she could not awaken, and if in her dream she tried to stand up for herself, or even fight back... she was brutally punished.

Nothing had ever gone right. Her unicorn horn had been dead to magic, and she had never received a cutie mark, nor any other sign that she was meant to fit into the world. She had never been anything better than a painful burden to her parents. She turned to alcohol to suppress the dream, and was soon addicted, falling in with the worst segments of society. The wild parties that became frenzied desperate orgies, the petty crimes, the drugs, the Daedra-worshipping cults... Her teen years were a long string of events that she tried over and over to forget.

But in her nineteenth year, a quiet voice inside her had said, "Stop."

She had sold the last of her possessions, scraped together the cost of ship passage, and emigrated to Equestria, trying to start a new life. It was futile. No one knew her past here, but the dream was still with her, she was still an alcoholic, and the Queen still mocked every attempt she made at finding somewhere, something that she could be.

True, she had made at least one friend, sort of. True, she had learned to partly overcome her crippling phobia of royalty, enough to be able to converse with a Countess. And, best of all, she learned that she really did have magical talent, and under the friendly encouragement of a Soldier of Celestia's Legions, she had thrown a fireball for the first time!

But then she had made her way to the county of Thvatch, and despite the warning signs, tried to enlist in the Mages Guild chapter there. And disaster had struck, again and again. She couldn't dwell on it. The memories were too fresh, too painful.

She remembered the face of that Soldier of Celestia's Legions, the one who had been so kind to her at first, sternly leading her away in shackles. The law was the law, but—the charge was so ridiculous. Grand Arson? How could anyone think that she was trying to burn down an entire town made of stone? It wasn't even possible!

At least she was in her proper place now, in one of the lowest and slimiest dungeons in the capital city of Canterlot. A fitting end for a loser, a failure. A nothing.

"Hey, Khageet!" called a mocking voice. Her body remained still, but she shifted her eyes to look through the iron bars of the door. A dark grey pony in the cell across from hers addressed her with a nasty sneer. "Yeah, you, blankflank! You'll never leave here alive, you mangy carnivorous furball. At least you'll have all the rats you can eat!"

She felt no ire at his words. There was nothing left in her, no self esteem, no hope, against which his insults might strike. She was drained of magicka at present, so she could not even set fire to the straw to end her miserable life. Her eyes rolled back to stare at the wall ahead of her as he rattled on, hoping to pry a reaction out of her with increasingly outlandish and low class taunts... until he ceased abruptly, shrinking back from his cell door.

Shadows appeared on the walls. She heard quiet, tense voices outside.

"This way, Your Majesty."

"I know this place... the prison?"

That stern strong female voice... it was familiar... it awakened memories of fear and rage and helplessness...

"Yes, Your Majesty. The skies aren't safe now. We're headed for a secret passage. We'll get you to safety."

The shadows shifted. Two Celestial Guards appeared in front of the cell—a roan mare and a chestnut stallion.

"What's this?" exclaimed the mare. "Occupied? This cell is supposed to be off limits. Stay back from the door, prisoner!"

The cell lock clanged, and the guards entered, full of contempt, sans compassion... but also troubled. The Khageet could not fathom their distress. She posed no danger to them. In fact, if they were here to execute her, they were probably doing her a favor.

And then beautiful light filled the cell, penetrating the rank darkness as no torch could. It was as if daylight itself, wholesome hopeful daylight, was ignoring the stone walls of the prison and flowing through to glint on her fur and warm her skin. Her heart skipped a beat, and she stirred, peering between the stern guards for a better sight of this miracle...

There She was... the Nightmare Queen, the Royal Alicorn who had ruined all of the Khageet's dreams, in the flesh. The real Empress Celestia was striding towards her, golden hooves pushing aside the filthy straw, the Amulet of Queens a dazzling red diamond-shaped sun on her chest. Icy fear seized the Khageet's heart. She scrabbled backwards into a corner, pressing against the cold wet stones. Her breath rasped in her throat, her pulse roared in her ears, and terror squeezed her chest without mercy. She was about to faint or die.

The Empress halted, staring in surprise.

"You. I know you..." said the Empress, pushing between the startled guards, who tried vainly to interpose their bodies between her and the ragged turlygod cowering in the corner. The Empress towered over the small furry form, overwhelming everything with her own terrible radiance. Even with her eyes closed, the Khageet could not block it out. She buried her head in her hooves and keened in terror.

"Let me see your face..." commanded the Empress. The Khageet had learned from her dreams that this voice was not to be resisted; however bad things were in the dream, resistance only made it worse. But she couldn't just look into the eyes of her very worst nightmare. She compromised, raising her trembling head but keeping her face in profile, locking her eyes desperately to a random stone on the wall to avoid staring into those deep pale pink eyes...

"Yes... You are the one from my dreams," the Empress said. Her voice was tense and sad, but another emotion underlay it... Kindness? It couldn't be—the evil ruler of the Khageet's nightmares had no need for kindness or mercy. It must be a trick.

"What is your name?" prodded the Empress gently.

The Khageet tried to speak. Her name... There was the name she'd grown up with, stained with dishonor, which she had abandoned when coming to this realm... And then there was the name that she'd chosen to replace it, to begin her new life. A name that had stood for an ideal that hovered always beyond her reach. The name she might have had if she'd managed to be a competent wizard instead of a total failure.

She had abandoned this name the instant the cell doors clanged shut behind her. One who is nothing neither needs nor deserves any sort of name.

Shaking with fear, facing the direct source of all her terror, she felt a spark in her, a tiny spark, yet it was of the voice inside her that had once said, stop.... The appearance of the Empress was the worst possible thing that could have happened... but if so, then what more could she lose? If the Empress were to rend her body and consign her soul to the abyss, why should it matter what name she wore?

And then the spark became a flame. She was face to face with her fear, and hadn't died yet. And this ruiner of her life was so casual, so imperious, so above any earthly care or trouble... Rage flared in the Khageet's heart. If she had to fall, she would go down fighting hard, no matter how much it hurt. And by the Nine, she would do it with a proper name.

Her eyes hardened, pupils narrowed to slits, and she stared fully into the face of her tormenter, baring her fangs.

"I am Katia. Fucking. Maragan," she snarled.

Chapter 2

This story contains spoilers for the game Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and the webcomic Prequel.

The guards started forward, shocked into action. "How dare you address Her Majesty in that vile way!" shouted the mare. "You will—"

Celestia raised her hoof. "Captain Roanault, please contain your indignation. Haurus, stand down. She's terrified, and justly so." Celestia locked eyes with Katia again. Katia's fear was permeated by another emotion—astonishment. The Queen of her dreams was never, never... thoughtful. Considerate. Worried.

And there was something else in Celestia's eyes. Something that Katia had longed to see all her life, which had come rarely enough from her parents, and never from anyone else.

Was this affection? Was it even a hint of... love? Actual, non-lust-driven, motherly love? Katia's fierce expression collapsed, leaving her slack jawed and helpless. She felt faint again, and crouched lower upon the floor.

The Empress spoke with compassion. "The dreams... They were horrible for me to bear. I can't imagine what effect they must have had upon you. You are very strong and brave to be able to look me in the eye, Katia."

Katia trembled. "We... we had the same dreams?"

"In mine, Katia, I would find myself in darkness, inside a dark cell, and in the cell a sleeping Khageet, with your face. And you awoke and became... not what you are, and you buried poisonous fangs and claws in me. And I died in torture and terror. Over and over and over..."

"Yes," said Katia. Tears brimmed in her eyes. "You know. But in my dreams it was you who attacked me, and..." She winced. "What—how did this happen?"

"The two of us were destined to meet—that much is clear. But something went wrong." The Empress shut her eyes in pain. "Something... did not want us to meet, and had no better means to prevent it than mental torture of the harmless and innocent." Her voice trembled with contempt.

"Please, Your Majesty," said Captain Roanault. "We must keep moving."

"Katia, I still see reserve in your eyes. Know that I mean you no harm, but there is a doom upon me and today is my appointed day. There will be blood and death before the end. My fate... is not to be your fate; you must find your own path. But it is meant for you to be the sun's companion, for a while. Please come with us."

Katia shuddered. She felt as if she was in the nightmare now, and that the Queen would show her true colors and bare her hideous claws at any moment. She was balanced on a razor edge between the reality of slow dark death in a dungeon cell and the red bright pain of her bleak dreamscape.

The abyss of Celestia's eyes held her. And there, and nowhere else, did she see a hint of calm beyond the storm, of love lying below turmoil, a fundamental and vital trust that gave the lie to fear and restrained unreason.

Katia chose. She rose slowly on unsteady hooves, and let go a shaky sigh. Her fetlock-irons rattled as Haurus released her chains. He left the irons on her, presumably to reshackle her later if necessary.

Captain Roanault activated a hidden lever, and a section of wall slid away, disclosing a dark gray passage of unfinished stone. "This way, Your Majesty," she said. She beckoned to a third guard. "Glenbay, you're with me." She and Glenbay entered, followed by the Empress.

Haurus guided Katia towards the passage. "Looks like this is your lucky day, prisoner. You're from Holsteinfell like me, right?"

Katia managed a very weak smile. "Yep. Born and raised."

"I could tell by your accent. Are you enough of a Redguard to swing a sword?"

"I—uhm, not very well, but I've swung a machete a little bit—a hatchet, I think I mean—"

"Then just stay back and let us protect the Empress. We're her Blades, and it's our duty."

***

The rough passage gave way to a vaulted hallway and room. Though ancient and neglected, the architecture seemed more polished and elegant than that of the Celestial prison proper and was clearly of much older construction.The air stank of must and old stonework, and the damp moldy walls absorbed the echoes of any noise, making it all seem more unreal. Katia trotted as silently as she could behind the three guard ponies and the Empress. The guards paused to reconnoiter, and Katia, increasingly fearful of the darkness behind her, made bold to approach.

"Don't try anything," snarled Glenbay. "I've got my eye on you."

Katia nodded faintly. "Your Majesty..." she began.

"You may address me as 'Celestia' if you wish, Katia. We've known each other long enough." She gave a wistful smile.

"Uhm, Celestia... uhm. Why am I even here?"

Celestia's smile grew stronger. "Did not your arresting officer read you the charges?"

"Uhm, yes. There was Tampering with the County Water Supply, but I was really trying to save it and get the slaughterfish out of it and I did keep it from getting poisoned, and Grand Arson which is just ridiculous because I didn't even burn anything down—"

Celestia chuckled. "What you've done doesn't matter. That is not what you will be remembered for."

No, I'll be remembered for being a drunken slutcat, thought Katia.

"The Nine certainly meant for us to meet, and perhaps that is why you were arrested," said the Empress. "But you will need to defend yourself ahead. Do you command any combat or shield spells?"

"Well, I can do this thing.." Katia used her unicorn telekinesis to lift a very small pebble. "...but I only figured it out about a week or so ago and I don't really have it down yet. And I can cast fire spells, but I never could until recently either, because in Holsteinfell they don't have many wizards and no one knew that I was born under the sign of the Atronach and can't regenerate magicka like everyone else does, and while we're on the subject there's this head of the Mages Guild chapter in Thvatch although she's kind of just the alchemist and I'd really like to register a complaint about her—"

Empress Celestia, whether from kindness or a desire to cut off the flow of babble, bent her head and touched her horn to Katia's. A surge of magicka flowed between them, and Katia fell quiet as the power overwhelmed her and her body tingled with the charge. She grew giddy and laughed nervously. Without warning, a nearby wooden bench burst into flame..

"Conserve that magicka, Katia," said the Empress. "You shall need it before the day is over."

"I'm sorry, Your Maj... estia, sometimes it just sort of leaks out of me and starts fires, and it gets worse when I get angry or humiliated, or someone makes a cat joke..."

"That's just purrrfect," snickered Captain Roanault.

Katia glared at her. "A non-obvious cat joke."

"Be nice to us, Khageet," smiled Haurus, "or you'll upset ocelot."

The bench flared with intense flame at its center and broke in half, showering cinders and sparks all over the floor. Katia cringed with embarrassment.

"Haurus? Captain Roanault? That's quite enough. Are we ready to proceed?"

"Almost, Your Majesty," said Roanault. "There's something I don't like about this room—"

As she spoke, dark armored figures detached themselves from the shadows and ran towards the Empress, deadly weapons glinting in the torchlight.

Chapter 3

This story contains spoilers for the game Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and the webcomic Prequel.

The assassins wore red cowls and dark grey armor, and bore strangely baroque maces. They ran to strike the Empress with suicidal courage as the Blades spread out to defend Celestia, katanas drawn. Katia stood in the shadows towards the rear, trembling with indecision; she wanted to help and wanted to flee, and was unsure that she could do either one. She had never seen deadly combat between so many warriors at once, and could not at first make sense of the confusion, the noise, and the terrible swiftness with which a life may be lost forever.

Captain Roanault had charged straight into the fray and engaged two assassins at once, slaying one before she fell. Katia later could have sworn that they had not solidly hit home with a single blow, but she cried out and collapsed to the floor like a heavy sack of oats. Were the weapons poisoned? Katia backed away from the scene until she felt intense heat behind her, and pain...

She had backed into the burning bench. She leapt forward, crying in panic and running blindly into the thick of the fight. She saw the bright katanas of the Blades flashing a dull orange in the dim torchlight, and the flaring light of the Empress's horn as she launched spells of deadly solar fire. She saw an assassin collapse, and as he fell, his armor and weapon vanished, leaving him dressed only in a mage's scarlet robe and cowl. Katia was puzzled at first, but only briefly—it was magic, bound to be. Maybe they were just illusions?

A deadly mace swooshed very realistically over her head, and this shook her out of her first panic and very nearly into another. She dodged around the assassin and charged on, halting with skidding hooves as she reached the far wall of the room. With nowhere left to run, she turned back to the battle, her mind at last made up to fight—the Empress had given her a charge of magicka for a reason. She prepared a flare of fire, calling up a sphere of magicka at the tip of her horn, and allowing her deepest and most bitter emotions to fill it until it whirled wildly into flame.

Most of the assassins were down by now, slain by the skilled bladework of Haurus and Glenbay, or roasted by the Empress's fury, but one remained, facing Haurus and gauging her chances. Katia spun her spell to its highest pitch and launched it straight towards the assassin, who at that very moment was struck down by Haurus. He had whirled his whole body around and delivered a massive kick which caught the assassin in the forechest with his powerful rear hooves, crushing out her life and sending her slamming to the floor.

Katia's flare flew over the prostrate assassin and struck Haurus squarely on the tail. He shouted, leapt up and and danced in the air for a moment, before landing to look in shock at his flaming posterior. He whipped off his cloak with his teeth and dashed it repeatedly at the flame to beat it out, but only fanned it higher. Shame-stricken, Katia ran to help. She ripped the robe from the fallen assassin and threw it over Haurus's rump, then hurled her own body on top of the robe to completely smother the fire.

Haurus stared back over his shoulder at Katia, who clung to his rear and shrieked panicky apologies, as a torrent of conflicting emotions fought for control of his mind. His face contorted curiously, with snarling rage and pain predominant, cut by undercurrents of disgust, exasperation, and even amusement. Rage won, and he bucked her off of him. She squealed as she tumbled and rolled into the room's far corner.

"Looks like you've got an adoring fan," dryly observed Glenbay. "She can barely keep herself off of your manly body. She's so eager to kindle a fire in your loins—"

"That's quite enough of that," snorted Haurus. "Is the Empress safe?"

"Yes. Roanault's down; the Empress is tending to her."

Katia sat in downcast shame in the corner, her nostrils full of the rank bitter smoke-stench of burning horse hair. It was in fact too strong... and she felt a fiercer heat about her than mere embarrassment would cause.

She looked around to see that her own tail, which had retained a few embers from its contact with the burning bench, was now ablaze.

***

Celestia sadly rose from Captain Roanault's body and strode around a pillar to address her remaining Blades. "I fear that—" She was greeted by a sight that momentarily robbed her of speech.

Katia, trembling and miserable, was standing and shaking in the middle of the room as Haurus used his chest to firmly press a scarlet robe onto her smoking posterior, placing their bodies in a position which ponies most often assume in sunny meadows of lush green grass and not in desperate flight through foul grim grey dungeons. Glenbay intently studied a cobweb on the vaulted ceiling and said nothing.

Celestia raised an eyebrow. "Haurus? I... do hope I am not interrupting anything personal."

"Arghh... not at all, Your Majesty." Haurus hopped down to the floor and lifted up the robe. "Is the fire completely out, prisoner?"

"Yes... yes it is oh I am so sorry..." Her tail and Haurus's were alike in terrible shape, missing patches of hair and bearing scarlet burns and blisters on the denuded flesh.

"A pair of red-tail-guards, I see," quipped Glenbay, earning a passably serious kick from Haurus.

"I was only trying to help..." Katia sniveled.

"Well, stop trying," Haurus growled. "You're lucky you aren't dead right now."

"If everyone is quite done," said Celestia, "Captain Roanault has fallen and I can do no more for her. Should we not press on?"

"Of course, Your Majesty. Don't worry, we'll get you out of here."

Katia found herself distinctly left out of the ensuing discussion, and slunk off to loot the corpses. The property of dead people was usually fair game for the first comer back in Holsteinfell, and Katia had found things to be no different here. She checked the assassins first, and acquired a set of robes and cowl and a pair of potions. She had no idea what the potions were—she'd have to do a taste test later—but, oddly, the robes looked familiar... Then she remembered her first visit to Thvatch, where she met a kindly fellow by the gates... The one who had been waiting for his friends to arrive for a big party. He had been way too nice to be an assassin. Perhaps scarlet robes were just in fashion this year?

Glancing about her, she went to check the body of Captain Roanault. She found the Captain's armor impossible to remove, as the straps and buckles were too intricate and confusing, but the capacious saddlebags came off easily. Katia tried them on, adjusting the straps until they fit her tolerably well, though they were clearly meant for a mare of greater muscular stature than she. They contained a short sword and a torch. Katia added the potions and robes, clumsily redistributing items between the two bags until she felt balanced.

She still smarted with shame. She felt like... well, like a Redguard who couldn't swing a sword. Her eye fell on Captain Roanualt's katana, and she took it up in her mouth to try a few practice swings. The sword felt light, strong and responsive. She set it down, then grabbed one of the assassin corpses by its shoulder and dragged it into a sitting position against a nearby pillar. She took up the katana again. She was no fuckup, no loser. She was Katia Maragan—Captain Katia Maragan, and the foes of the Empress would fall before her like chaff...

She was fully into the fantasy when she gave the sword a particularly wide swing and came within a meter of striking the Empress in the knee. Celestia had come up behind her, unnoticed.

Katia was fairly certain that there were dreadful penalties for even waving an edged weapon around in the general direction of an Empress, and most of them were lethal and the ones that weren't lethal made you wish that they were. She dropped the katana with a clatter and fell to the floor, burying her head between her forearms and awaiting the end.

"Please arise, Katia."

She scrambled to her feet and stood at what she imagined to be military attention. Her head was thrown back, eyes clenched tightly shut against the inevitable, and her legs, locked straight and perpendicular to her torso, shivered uncontrollably, which caused her to vibrate and rattle slowly across the stone floor in the manner of a wind-up toy.

"It's good that you want to get better, Katia," said Celestia, "But we must depart soon. Please relax, you are not in trouble. I should have announced myself, but I was curious to see you in action."

Katia opened her eyes, but seemed to have difficulty in unlocking her knee joints. She still shivered from the afterwash of terror. Celestia bent over her, concerned.

"Have you not even seen to your wounded tail, Katia?"

"Seen to it?" Katia tried to lift her tail to view it over her rump, and winced with pain.

"Have you no healing spell to cast on yourself?"

"No, Your.. Celestia. I am sorry. I am very ignorant and stupid in regards to magic."

"You are simply inexperienced. I will show you the way of it. You know already how to gather a locus of potential magicka at your horn. Do it now.

"You also how your body feels when it is healthy. Gather that feeling to you, and invest the locus of magicka with that feeling. Then direct the force into you, either generally or towards the maligned part."

Katia closed her eyes and tried to call up a healthy emotion. It was hard for her to feel normal, with so much of her life having been wasted upon dissolution and rage. Humiliation, mortification... these were near and constant companions through her suffering, and she found them much easier to comprehend. Nothing terribly peaceful came to mind, and being under pressure from the Empress's presence only made it worse.

She was getting nowhere. She opened her eyes, maintaining the locus, and looked to the last place where she had felt a hint of peace... The deep compassionate eyes of the Empress Celestia.

And there it was. She felt a swirl of ice-blue energy inside her, soft, consoling, constructive. She let it flow into the locus and saw it swirl into a globe of blue-white light. Carefully, as if trying pick up a soap bubble without popping it, she opened the globe and the energy rushed into her, filling her for an instant with calmness, peace.

She laughed, and tried it again, this time without looking at Celestia, and she produced another glowing globe that she directed straight at her posterior. The stinging pain faded, and Katia swished her mostly hairless but healthy tail in utter delight. She turned to the Empress, gratitude shining in her eyes.

"Well done, Katia. You reminded me for a moment of a particular student of mine, one very dear to my heart."

Katia smiled nervously."I know... you're probably just saying that so I'll feel more confident... but thank you. I hope that I may one day be truly worthy of praise in your eyes."

The Empress smiled sadly. Her eyes drifted, looking someplace distant. "You will be, though I will not be here to see it."

"I... don't understand." Katia didn't want to, either.

The Empress sighed, still remote, still seeing a world that lay beyond the senses of others.

Haurus approached, deferent and tense. "Your Majesty, we are ready to proceed."

"By all mean, Haurus." She strode off and beckoned Katia to follow. "Should you need to find your own path, take heart. We will cross paths again before the end, I am sure of it."

The group reassembled at a locked gateway. "It's too late to go back now," said Haurus. "Forward it is."

"The assassins won’t be the first to underestimate the Blades," said Glenbay. "I’ll take point. Let’s move."

Glenbay unlocked the gate and trotted through, followed by the Empress. Haurus followed, but turned back at the door, glaring down at Katia.

"You stay here, prisoner. Don’t try to follow us."

"But... Celestia—"

Haurus thrust his angry face at her. "I don't care what she told you, she is 'Your Royal Majesty' to the likes of you, and don't you forget it. You'll be nothing but a burden to her or to us, and we have no time to babysit you. You find your own way out of here if you can, you useless tailsniper, or go back and rot in your cell for all I care."

As Katia stood stunned, Haurus trotted through the gate, slammed and locked it.

Chapter 4

This story contains spoilers for the game Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and the webcomic Prequel.

It was very far from the first rejection that Katia had suffered, but it didn't hurt any less when the door clanged shut, almost striking her face. Her jaw quivered and her head shook slowly from side to side in a silent no. She tried to breathe slowly and quiet the panic and rage building in her heart.

It's okay, she thought. I'll just make my way back up to the cell and tell the guards that the Empress has pardoned me and they'll let me out oh who am I kidding of course they won't but I'll go back and get the corpse of Captain Roanault and prop it against the cell door and pretend to be holding her hostage and oh by the nine that is so stupid what am I even thinking and where do I get these ideas from, oh wait of course I know where I get these ideas from so it's no wonder. She really hated her subconscious, sometimes. All of them.

Breathing slowly and steadily was working, for now. Pacing about on shaky legs, she searched the room again, double checking the assassin's corpses as she went to make sure she hadn't missed anything and slinging Captain Roanault's katana over her neck. There was no other way out; only the passage leading back to her old cell and the door that Haurus had slammed in her face. She wondered why the Blades had taken so long to decide to go through the room's only forward-progressing exit. They couldn't have been waiting on Katia. No one ever did.

She was so sick of it. It wasn't enough that her childhood had been stolen away from her, that everyone looked down on her, that she was repeatedly kicked in the teeth every time she tried to be nice to someone or tried to help. Hope just had to be dangled in her face, only to be rudely yanked away each time she reached for it. She wanted to fight back. She didn't want to just take it lying down again. And she had no options. The world never left her with any options, never gave her an easy way out.

It. Wasn't. Fucking. Fair.

Katia shook with rage. She braced her forehooves against the stony floor and solidly kicked a nearby wall in frustration... and the wall surprisingly gave way. She yelped as she shot through the hole in the wall, falling through tumbling rocks and choking dust, and when she scrambled to her hooves, coughing and blinking, she found herself in another chamber, musty and smelling of death, composed of rough stonework, a dirt floor and shadowy alcoves.

As she stared, she heard a rattling squeak below her, and she squealed nervously and jumped off the rubble pile. Looking back, she saw the bleeding bodies of two rats that had apparently been crushed by the falling wall, one of which breathed its last as she watched.

Great. She wasn't even at the stage where she could kill a mudcrab with complete ethical comfort, and she'd just crushed out two fuzzy little lives, guilty of nothing but standing under a crappily constructed wall. Should she try to bury them? Construct a cairn? Well, they were sort of in a cairn already.

Staring at the rat corpses, Katia's stomach growled. It had been over a day since she'd had anything solid to eat. But... ugh, rats? No way. She wasn't prepared to sink that low.They weren't even cooked... Argh! Enough!

Katia took two nervous steps into the room. Beyond a rough pillar to the right, she could see a well. And to the left... something gleamed dully on the floor...

Katia took another step, and heard a squeak of rage. It was another rat, rushing to attack.

Katia hesitated. Her first urge was to create a flare of fire, but she wanted to conserve her magicka. And she did have an alternative...

Katia seized the handle of Roanault's katana with her mouth, and with a swift jerk of her head managed to pull it halfway out of the scabbard, but no further. The scabbard was loosely slung around her neck, and with nothing else to restrain it, it had clung to the sword. She tried to shake the scabbard off, but it wasn't loose enough to fall away from her body. The rat closed in, fangs flashing in the dim light...

Katia let go of the sword and flailed desperately with her hooves. She felt a stab of sharp teeth in her left foreleg. She screamed, more in anger than in pain, and bashed down with her hooves, over and over...

Eventually, she became aware that she was hopping up and down in one place. She stopped and looked down. Her hooves were spattered with blood and the rat had become a smear of reddened fur in the dirt below her. The adrenaline rush suddenly faded, and she felt her stomach twist. In a moment, she was retching thin bile onto the floor.

So that was the way it was going to be. There was no one to help her or protect her, no one to advise her, no one to give her an encouraging hug while she was puking uncontrollaby. To have any chance of escaping this place, she would have to kill things, over and over, all by herself. Her, the Redguard Khageet who couldn't even pull a sword out of its scabbard.

She kicked some dirt over the rat's corpse. If she was lucky, she wouldn't have to kill anything larger or nastier.

Or maybe her destiny was to wander through the world, slaying almost anything that crossed her path. She was glad that thought was just a ridiculous fantasy.

Chapter 5

This story contains spoilers for the game Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and the webcomic Prequel.

Katia sniffed the air cautiously. Under the bright sharp smell of rat blood lay the odor of must and dust and decay. She shook the katana out of its scabbard and held it ready as she made a brief inspection of the rest of the room. Nothing more was alive.

Aside from the rats, there were two corpses, one skeletal, the other clothed in flesh and lying by a door that appeared to be the only other exit from the room. She left that one alone for now—she had a vague idea that the skeleton was just a trifle more sanitary.

The pony skeleton lay next to a rusty bow and shield. Also nearby were a sack and a locked chest. Katia frowned. Who would even leave a chest like that in an abandoned area? If you had time to take the furniture and the wall hangings, surely you could spare an extra trip for the chest?

The sack was useless, but Katia claimed the bow... which, unless she found some arrows, was almost equally useless. She knelt by the skeleton, and found it had been concealing a quiver of rusty arrows and a set of a half-dozen lockpicks. She wasn't quite sure where it had been hiding the arrows. It was a well known fact that you could hide an awful lot of large things in even a very tiny corpse. In fact, the amount you could store was more than the person or thing would have been able to carry while alive. Why this was so was not known and most people preferred not to talk about it. Katia's own hazy concept was that a dead person was half in the world beyond anyway. Perhaps it was trying to take all that stuff with it?

She shrugged and stood up. She needed to stay organized, and practice a bit with her weapons. Her magicka had to be conserved for when she really needed it.

She spent some time rearranging the katana so its scabbard was held secure by the saddlebag strap. She tried a few practice draws and was able to smoothly extract the katana without cutting herself after several tries and adjustments. She wasted some more of her precious magicka store on healing the results of the first few tries.

Now, the bow and arrow. She slung the quiver over her shoulder and was about to take the bow in her mouth when she remembered that it had last been held by a skeleton. And it was rusty. And it had cobwebs on it. Were those some desiccated spider corpses? She... ought to use her hooves for this one.

Like other kinds of pony, Katia's hooves were slightly flexible and could be made to grasp many objects, but she had a boon from her Khageet heritage—retractable claws. They tucked into little grooves in the sole of each hoof, and she usually left them retracted as sometimes they got painfully locked in the out position when she used them.

Now, she reared unsteadily into a bipedal stance, pinched the bow's handle, and practiced pulling arrows from the quiver, setting the notch to the bowstring, drawing, and releasing. Her retractable claws turned out to be very useful for a quick release. As she gained confidence, she sighted at a dry-rotted bucket hanging over the abandoned well, and soon was able to hit it semi-reliably from a distance of ten paces. She hoped that would be good enough for now.

As she retrieved the last round of arrows from the bucket, she noticed that there was a protective grate on this well, with a small hole for the bucket at its center. What a useful feature! Why didn't more wells have it? It would save a lot of trouble with, say, slaughterfish being put into wells, and if they got in anyway, it could conceivably keep a civic minded and helpful mage-in-training from trying very hard to climb into that well and take out the slaughterfish with a blunt instrument. The kind that had an edge on it...

She shuddered at some bad memories. Mages didn't belong in wells. She'd already sworn that she'd never enter another one.

That left the chest. Khageet were supposed to be seriously good with lockpicky sneaky stuff, but she sucked at it. She could barely open a lock for which she had a legitimate key. Still, she had some lockpicks, and a chest that made her curious, and she was trying to find reasons to delay moving on into unknown and dangerous regions, so she gave it a go.

A few minutes later, she had no lockpicks and the lock was so crammed with broken lockpicks that no key would ever open it again. Katia shrugged and sighed. Was it too much to ask for just one break? Rather than, say, half a dozen?

There was no putting it off any longer—she'd have to press on. She could not believe with anything but the very bottom of her soul that she could be of any use to the Empress, and she frankly agreed with Haurus's assessment. But that part of her soul that did believe believed very strongly that the Empress was correct and that they would meet again.

She went to the door, stepping over the fleshy corpse, and tried the knob. It was solidly locked.

Oh, this was just wonderful. Just when she had broken all of her lockpicks. Not that they would have done her any good, anyway... Where was the door key? Probably inside that stupid chest, along with the key to the chest...

She was so used to feeling sorry for herself (albeit with good reason) that she easily slipped into a stream of self-castigation and morose hypotheticals, and was surprised when the thought popped into her head, almost as if a message board had appeared before her: "Why don't you check that other corpse first?"

She knelt before the body, and turned it over, revealing a bipedal form with a snaggle-toothed snout. A Diamond Dog.

Chapter 6

This story contains spoilers for the game Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and the webcomic Prequel.

Katia hadn't had much experience with the Dogs, at least none that she was prepared to confess to in polite company. As a race, they spent most of their time trying to excavate more gems from the bottoms of abandoned mines, abducting people to force them to excavate the gems instead, and conducting tribal wars.

Katia did know that where there was one Diamond Dog, it was likely that there were more—but why would anyone tolerate a pack of Dogs living under the city that housed the Empress's royal residence? Perhaps this one was just an escaped prisoner? Katia resolved to be cautious, nonetheless.

This dog was a brown-and-white pug-nosed mongrel, and in addition to the door key and a set of lockpicks, it had some potions and scrolls! Katia was pleased; so far she was doing fairly well at outfitting herself from other people's leavings and trash. She unlocked the door, readied her bow, and passed through...

***

As she wandered further through tunnels of natural rock and roughly finished stony rooms, Katia sensed a theme of rats.

Rats. Rats and rats and ratsandrats and A FUCKING SHAMBLING CORPSE and more rats. The last one had been blasted by a fiery flare—she had run out of arrows and gotten backed into a corner.

As she walked around collecting the misspent arrows, she got a good whiff of the roasted rat and her stomach growled.

Okay, the other rats weren't even cooked... but this one was. Cooked evenly. Under the sharp bitter smell of burnt fur, it smelled... not good, but perhaps non-poisonously acceptable. She was salivating freely. She hadn't had meat in so long... just vegetarian prison gruel or hay-infusion soup.

And where else was she likely to find any food at all in a decaying dungeon?

She looked around her guiltily. The dead glassy eyes of the many rodents she had slain seemed to glare at her in surprised rebuke. The zombie was just chilling, or attaining room temperature, more likely.

Fine. Fine. Just this one. Just this once.

Using the tip of Roanault's katana, she skinned and gutted the corpse, then tried a drumstick. It tasted like chicken, if the chicken had been raised on rat meat and garbage. But hunger overwhelmed her and she quickly finished off the rest.

She left the rat bones in a neat pile and set off on her way... And in the very next room, after slaying a few more rats, she found a few passable heads of lettuce and cheese wedges lying under an open grate.

Other than that, things were actually going swimmingly for someone who was trapped in a foul maze of fierce monsters. She was getting some practice in hitting a moving target with a bow without letting the bowstring strip the fur off her forearm. She was finding some pre-opened chests, which, granted, were often full of useless crap, but she was picking up more potions along the way. After some careful sipping, she had determined that she was carrying several healing potions, a couple of fatigue potions, and (best of all) a precious potion of magicka restoration! And she hadn't had to use a single one yet; by now, the rats were barely making her break a sweat.

Her mood was improving, and as she marched along munching a lettuce and cheese sandwich, she found herself on the verge of humming a happy tune... until she reached a room with an ominous closed door, surrounded by strings of dangling pony skulls. Dark stains around the jambs and threshold, and a nose-curling urine stench, told Katia that she'd found the lair of the other Diamond Dogs.

Katia stood for a long while before the door, offering a silent prayer to the Nine. If ever there was a time that she needed her natural Khageet sneaking ability to work, this was it.

She opened the door as quietly as she could...

***

"Scutsniff!"

"Yes, Whinepiddle?"

"Chief said to reset the log trap today, you yapper! Keep 'em rolling!"

It was not quite appropriate for Whinepiddle to address Scutsniff as a 'yapper,' for the boxer-like Scutsniff was two feet taller than the chihuahuaesque Whinepiddle, and also much burlier. But the social hierarchy among Diamond dogs was not determined by size, but by voice quality. Since Dogs were sensitive to high sound frequencies, the Dogs whose voices were the most piercingly high and nasal got to give orders to the others, on pain of terminal annoyance.

Scutsniff growled and started to roll another log up the slope. When he reached the very top, he lifted it with a grunt and laid it on top of the precarious pile, then dusted off his paws and went to grab another log. A puzzled frown crawled over his face.

"Say, Whinepiddle, I got a coupla questions."

"What are they, you lazy mope?"

"Well, uh, why do we have the log trap set up here? Since when do we have any enemies that come this way?"

Whinepiddle rolled his huge, brain-excluding eyes. "Scutsniff... do we have any slopes anywhere else in our territory?"

"Uh, nope..."

"And do you not need a slope to build a rolling log trap?"

"Uh, yep..."

"So that's why it's here! Next question?!"

"Uhm... next question. Uh, can I just stand one of these logs on end for a minute? I gotta... use it."

"No! Enough goofing off—get back to wor..." Whinepiddle broke off and perked his cute ears. "Do you hear that?"

From far away, they heard a shrieking and noise of galloping hoofpaws. The noise got closer... Then, from up beyond the pile of logs came shouts of anger and a confusion of shadows. A wailing Khageet dashed around the log trap and ran down the slope past the astonished Dogs, pursued by two of their comrades. Scutsniff and Whinepiddle stood in shock for a moment, then barked joyously and joined in the chase.

Katia ran around a corner, then circled a huge pillar, nearly blinded by fear, as the Dogs shot arrows at her and snapped at her tail. She doubled back, ducked around the corner, ran back up the slope and reached the pile of logs. In a paroxysm of panic, she scrabbled at the logs and climbed over them with the Dogs in immediate barking pursuit... and the logs gave way under her. Katia screamed and danced on top of the collapsing pile as the logs pinched at her hooves, then leaped over it to safety, fleeing in terror again...

She halted, frowning. The Dogs had all stopped barking and grown oddly quiet. And she couldn't hear her danger music anymore. (Whenever she was in trouble, she liked to imagine that stirring martial music was playing; it helped to keep her courage up.)

She peered back over the slope and saw stiffening handpaws sticking up from under the logs.

Well. That hadn't gone... too terribly badly. It seemed that she was perfectly competent to take on a gang of suicidally stupid enemies and prevail! That was something to be proud of, right?

She sighed, shrugged and looted the area while she calmed down, then tried to prepare herself to move on. No one seemed to have heard the commotion, or cared. Still, she crept quietly up beyond the large pillar to the next doorway, and peered into the next chamber...

She saw a very large cave, with a central depression containing a rat farm, and archer Dogs strolling about on the upper level. And at the far end, she saw a small grey schnauzerish bitch bearing a very tall staff with a skull mounted on it. She was probably their Chief.

Katia withdrew her head, then closed her eyes, trying to psych herself up. They were just a pack of Dogs, and probably not very bright... And Katia had a nice sword, and a bow, and magic weapons, and potions and scrolls to fall back on if things started to go too terribly wrong...

She plucked up her rabbity courage. Dogs weren't dangerous! She should just go out there and fight!

She drew herself up into a hero's stance, and strode into the cave.

***

Haurus knelt and wiped his katana clean on the robes of another assassin. He glanced up at Glenbay. "I think that's the last of them. Let me take a look around." He walked slowly about the chamber of finished stone. They had come far, and the exit to the Imperial Sewers, and safety for the Empress, could not be very distant.

The Empress Celestia stood at the room's center, in communion with stars unseen. She could sense the great panorama outside, the constant wheel of fate that encircled the world in fiery constellations, the influences of the Lunar Lattice... all were strings or chains pulling her irresistibly to her appointed fate. And of the myriad threads that formed her destiny, there was one of bright brassy gold, gnarled and discordant, that twisted through the skein and disappeared into the great dark. She knew what that thread meant here and now, but could not guess at where it went in the future.

Haurus completed his circuit of the room, and joined Glenbay to report to the Empress.

"Have you seen Katia?" she asked.

"The prisoner? No..." said Glenbay. "Your Majesty, we have to go now."

Celestia stared upward into the dark recesses of the room. "Not yet... just a moment longer..."

The moment stretched out into minutes. The Empress and her Blades stood silent and watchful.

Then a strange keening wail filled the room. Both men of arms readied their weapons...

From a black recess above, a distraught shape fell through the air, dashing to the ground at Celestia's feet. Haurus and Glenbay jumped forward, ready to strike, then stood astonished.

Katia had faceplanted onto the floor, and the weight of her accumulated items had caused her saddlebags to slide down over her head. Her butt and hairless tail stuck up in the air as she wiggled her rear legs and tried to right herself. As they watched, from the ledge above a skullstaff, probably enchanted by a Dog shaman, fell and landed on Katia's rear, zapping her with a bolt of energy. She yelped and jumped to her feet, snout bloody, rattling her rear hooves on the ground in a drumroll of shock and pain...

"It's that prisoner again," said Glenbay, dryly sardonic. "Shall we kill her? She might be working with the assassins."

"We should be so lucky," said Haurus. They snickered together.

Chapter 7

This story contains spoilers for the game Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and the webcomic Prequel.

As Katia trembled from the stinging burn on her rear and snorted through her own blood, she felt a warm presence at her side. Then soft white feathers, gently radiant with a golden sheen, draped over her back. Celestia had literally taken Katia under her wing. Katia felt several healing spells flow through her body, some taking full effect to ease her pain, others becoming blunted and disrupted the moment they touched her skin, spreading over her in shimmering light before being absorbed into her as undifferentiated magicka. This was the blessing and the curse of being born under the sign of the Atronach; as often as not, it blocked whatever spell was cast upon her, helpful or harmful. Even so, she was soon once more in perfect health, and at full charge... and cuddled, and wanted.

Katia sighed and closed her eyes as she was pressed against the warm royal flank. She hadn't realized until now that she'd needed a hug, because hugs had not been a part of her life. Her disappointed parents could never say "I love you, Katia..." without adding "...but..." After a while, they didn't even have to say it. The "but..." was always there by inflection, or in their reproachful eyes.

What was happening now was the pure, unreserved and real thing. Celestia perceived herself as being a loving mother to all her subjects, and it was now Katia's turn to receive that love. Katia buried her face in Celestia's fur, and the dank smell of the musty catacomb faded. Celestia smelt like all the scents of summer, flowering grass and warm breezes soughing through sun-warmed forests...

And Katia knew, deep down, that such things do not last, particularly for miserable creatures with her kind of luck. Something bad was going to happen that would make this beautiful moment useless, or meaningless, or a disaster that would bring nothing but bitter memories and regret in the dark future. It was just the way her life was; there was always a "but." She held the moment as long as she could.

At length, Celestia released her hold and stepped back. Katia looked up at her with brimming kittenish eyes. "...Thank you," she whispered.

Celestia smiled. "Katia... I wasn't able to save you from your dreams, as you were growing up. Please accept this as partial amends."

The Blades stood stolidly, keeping their eyes fixed on the rusty gate of egress. Katia felt a bit ashamed. She hoped that they got a hug sometimes, too.

Glenbay coughed. "Your Majesty, we need to go. Once we reach the sewer exit, we can get you to safety."

"Very well, Glenbay. Please put your things in order, Katia."

Katia tugged wildly at straps and buckles as she tried to stow the shaman's staff in an accessible location. As she jostled her saddlebags, bottles clanked against coins, rusty daggers, and an astonishing variety of clutter. The bags had turned out to be remarkably roomy, and there had been so many useful things, or things that were worth at least one coin, or souvenirs of her first solo dungeon exploration, or things that might look good on a mantlepiece if she ever wound up having a mantlepiece...

"It seems that you did well on your own." Celestia said.

Katia, aware that she was holding everything up, started chattering in a stream of nervous energy. "Well, Your Majesty, your dungeons were full of rats which I could have guessed but do you know you have a whole tribe of Dogs living back there?! Had. And I'm curious—what's with all the chests that you break a couple of lockpicks to open and you find more lockpicks inside them? Is the idea to reward thieves by helping them to practice...?"

As she spoke, she pulled out a clay bowl that she'd picked up by accident, and several rat drumsticks came out with it and fell to the floor. Haurus and Glenbay stared at her in astonishment, then wrinkled their noses and turned away. Celestia either had not seen, or was pretending not to see. Katia considered all the things she wanted to say—they're not mine—I was saving them for a friend—alchemical ingredients—then decided that she wasn't comfortable with lying in the presence of the Empress. Burning with shame, she scooped up the rat meat and restowed it in her bag as unobtrusively as she could.

The moment that Katia got her bags settled, the Blades, trembling with impatience, stalked without a word through the next door. Celestia strode after them, with Katia trotting behind her in mortified silence and wondering how she could try to rebuild her confidence. But as they passed through the next chamber, the Blades dealt so swiftly and contemptuously with the assassin's sporadic attacks that Katia had no time to even offer her assistance. Haurus at one point asked her to hold a torch, which she took as being a semi-polite hint that she should keep her mouth shut.

As the Blades secured the chamber and scouted the next exit, the Empress spent some time staring at the ceiling, her face grim. At length, she turned her gaze to Katia.

"They don't know what I see in you, Katia, and perhaps you don't as well. You know that the Nine guide us..."

Katia looked to the side, embarrassed. "They don't seem to care much for me." She saw that her bloody nose had left a smear on the Empress's shoulder, but decided not to mention it. Quid pro quo, said an odd inner voice.

"They rarely speak directly to anyone," Celestia continued. "But one can read the heavens. I chart my course by the stars, each one a flaming sign that marks our fate..."

"Uhm, are you sure the stars never speak? Because sometimes... I do hear voices."

Everyone stared at Katia, the Empress more politely than her Blades. Part of Katia's brain encouraged her to shut up before she did further harm, but her speech center seemed to be taking firm command of her mouth.

"It's as if everything I do is sort of watched, and there are a bunch of people, I guess you would call them, though I don't think they're like us and they're not the Nine and they're probably not Daedra, but they're aliens, maybe? From another world? And every once in a while when there's some important choice I need to make, and often when there isn't, they sort of send me messages. And I wind up hearing all these messages before I can decide what to do, and some of these aliens really want to help, and others just seem to want me to get in trouble, and some just make pictures and songs at me. And they argue with each other a lot..."

The verbal flood died down as Katia's mouth threw the last few shovelsful of dirt on the grave of her dignity.

The Empress seemed unperturbed. "Well. You have my blessing, Katia. May you find peace and surcease from these visions."

"Thank you. Heh, I don't want you to get the wrong idea... It's not like I'm a worshipper of Sheogorath or anything! That would be really weird. I mean, why would anyone worship the Daedric Prince of Madness at all? You'd have to be... Heh. Anyway, I don't... do... it..."

Celestia was suddenly staring at Katia, with great deep eyes so intent and expression so odd that Katia shuddered and fell into silence. It felt as if Celestia was looking right through her. Fear crawled along the Khageet's spine and her back involuntarily arched, fur rising in a threat display.

However kind Celestia was, she still bore the face of Katia's worst and most enduring nightmare.

Chapter 8

This story contains spoilers for the game Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and the webcomic Prequel.

At length, the Empress blinked and sighed, and the odd spell was broken. Katia shuddered and suppressed an urge to vigorously groom her fur with her tongue.

"It's not your fault, Katia; for a time you called something to mind that I had forgot... But to answer your question, the stars do not directly speak to us, though they may be read by those who have the knowledge and ability.

"And the stars show me the end of my appointed path."

Katia blinked. "The end? But... aren't you the chosen of Akatosh, or something? Everyone talks about you as though you're the only reason the sun comes up every day..."

"It is true that the Dragonblood flows within me, and thus many of my subjects worship me, and some go so far as to think me essential, and eternal. But I am fated to die as any other, and this is my day..." She saw the panic rising in Katia's face, and quickly added, "But your stars are not mine."

"What..." Katia didn't want to ask, as she knew the answer would be horrible, but the words tumbled out of her regardless. "...what do the stars say about me?"

"Katia...of your ultimate fate, I know not. The thread of your destiny fades into a mist that my sight cannot pierce. But your presence here is a sign that you were meant to be the sun's companion, and in you I see a hint of Akatosh's bright glory on the horizon." Celestia spoke gently enough, but her eyes were grimly earnest. "With your aid, the coming darkness may be banished. Will you help?"

"You... you really mean me. Uh, Celestia, I've got a really bad track record with this sort of thing. It's like, every time, and I do mean every actual literal time, that I try to help someone, I make things worse somehow. It's not that I'm scared, though I am, but I just learned how to make a fire spell two weeks ago and I've still got a lot of baggage and... are you really really sure you want my help? Really? You are. Yeesh. Sure, I'll help you however I can, I guess..."

Celestia closed her eyes and sighed. "With this promise of your aid, my heart must be satisfied."

"Okay... uhm, so what do you want me to do? You said I should help to banish the darkness... what does that mean?"

"Such things belong to your future. Today, you will follow me a while longer, then our paths will part again for good."

"I... Oh." Fear stabbed Katia again. "Celestia... I don't want to lose you."

"Nor do most of my subjects. But my death is a necessary end, and I have lived well. You are young, Katia, and you may not yet understand, but to know the hour of your doom may be a blessing." Celestia glanced away. "I believe that the Blades are ready to proceed. Let us go"

Katia walked after her, musing, then approached Haurus, who was standing ready at the room's exit.

"Uhm, Haurus? I think I'm ready to carry that torch, for a while."

Haurus grinned, then pulled a torch from his saddlebag using his mouth. He struck the head of it rapidly against the floor stones until it surged into flame, then offered it to Katia.

As she prepared to take the flaming brand in her teeth, she paused. This wasn't how a proper unicorn pony should carry a torch. It definitely wasn't how Katia Fricking Maragan should do it.

Surprised at her own confidence, she reached out with her mind, formed a cushion out of the air around her, and wrapped it around the torch handle. It dipped suddenly and plunged as Haurus released it. She caught it as the handle bounced off the floor, and lifted it with a great effort of will until it hovered in the air before her. It trembled and wavered, but it was aloft, and alight.

It was the heaviest object she'd ever borne this way, and she gave herself a mental scritch behind the ears in congratulations. It wasn't full telekinesis—it didn't drain any of her magicka, for one thing—but it made her feel more worthy to try to think of herself as a real mage, and not a loser.

"Haurus..." Her voice wavered. "Will the Empress be okay? She's not being that optimistic..."

Haurus sighed. "It's our duty to get her to safety, though I admit that things are not going according to plan." He gave Katia an appraising stare. "Look, just stick close to us, let us do our jobs, and be careful where you launch those blasted fireballs, and you'll be all right." Katia nodded, and thought she saw a brief hint of amusement in his eye.

Katia took heart as she followed the Blades and the Empress through the door into the next chamber. She was ready. She could handle this. Let the darkness come!

***

The catacombs wound on in a chaotic but strangely linear labyrinth of ancient gray stone, unbanistered landings, staircases and shattered columns, with dark side passages that led nowhere and locked doors that had no key.

To Katia, it felt like they were being led right into something. Should she warn the Blades? No, they were professionals and surely knew what they were doing. But was the Empress Celestia really fated to die? If so, the stars might be forcing them all to follow the thread of her destiny.

Katia was jolted out of her train of thought by Glenbay shouting an alert. This time, she was determined to be of actual help. As the assassins leapt from the shadows, she prepared a flare and targeted one who had not yet closed to engage the Blades. The fiery ball struck home, sending flickering flames over her magically-bound armor. She changed course and ran to engage Katia, bearing a wicked multi-bladed mace.

Katia shot another flare, and another, but the foe kept coming. Without thinking, Katia started to run... backwards. Keeping her face towards the foe, she kept clear of the viciously swinging weapon, and struck again and again with swift bursts of fire. The assassin was faltering, and Katia was doing well, until her tail ran up against a wall. She squealed and dodged to the side, seeking to keep her distance from the mace, and her butt found an open stairway. She fell back, casting another flare as the mace split the air over her head, and her foe shrieked fire as she inhaled the flames that engulfed her face. The magical mace and armor vanished, and the smoldering scarlet-clad figure struck the floor.

Katia got to her feet. She'd done it. She had actually helped to protect the Empress! She whistled happily as she looted the corpse and extracted a blue potion of sorcery, which glowed softly with potential magicka. She quaffed it on the spot and felt giddy as the charge flowed throughout her.

She looked across the room to see the Empress, who stood regally alone as if already distant from this world, and Blades, who had quickly dispatched their opponents and were now scouting the room for more danger. She wanted to run up to them and tell them about her success, but she held herself back—it was too much like bragging.

She gave herself a quiet round of applause, anyway, and permitted herself to feel a little hope.

Chapter 9

This story contains spoilers for the game Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and the webcomic Prequel.

The exit to the sewers, and safety, was near at hand, and the assassins seemed to be more desperate than ever, flinging themselves at the Empress with suicidal disregard for their own bodies. The Blades seemed heartened, though neither of them were unprofessional enough to let their guard down, and Katia found herself caught up in their mood, carrying her torch proudly as the Empress strode quietly among them like a tall white ghost.

As they entered the next chamber, Glenbay held up a warding hoof, and went by himself to inspect the gate to the passage that lead to the sewer exit. He returned with a grim glint in his eye. "The gate's barred from the other side. Trapped."

"What about that side passage there?" said Haurus.

"Worth a try. Let's go."

They moved through a short hallway into a small room, with shallow niches in the walls and a small alcove in the far corner, but no further exit.

Katia's heart started to hammer in her chest. Haurus and Glenbay exchanged a grim look.

"What's your call?" said Haurus

Glenbay suddenly perked his ears back. "They're behind us! Wait here, Ma'am!"

Haurus swiftly took hold of Katia's shoulder and pulled her small spare frame around to face him. His eyes pierced her with fierce intent. "Stay here, prisoner, and guard the Empress with your life!"

Glenbay and Haurus ran back through the short hallway, shouting "For the Empress!" as if it were their dying day. The sounds of deadly combat filled the next room.

Katia saw in her mind's eye the face of her nightmare, the Empress of the darkness, of the rending fangs and bladed claws, her torturer and tormenter—and Celestia of the sun, the life giver and bringer of hope. Between them, Katia's panic, her courage, her will to live, swirled in desperate opposition.

She stood frozen for a moment, then something moved within her and spread throughout her body. She stood taller and her eyes were dead pools of black in the flickering torchlight. She had accepted Haurus's words and all that they meant. She strode to the mouth of the hallway, ready to hear the dying yells of Haurus and Glenbay, ready to face the agents of darkness as they swarmed to extinguish all light. Ready to give her life.

The heroic effect was slightly spoiled as Katia felt a surge of magicka enter her back. She jumped and yelped. Celestia had given her another recharge.

Katia turned and met Celestia's eyes. They were deep as the sky, and sad, and full of love, and what might have been and what could be. Celestia spoke with a strange mixture of doom and hope.

"Katia, I can go no further. It is up to you to stand against the darkness. You must take the Amulet of Queens, and bring it to my child. Jirauffe knows where to look. My sister cannot... be trusted with it."

"Celestia... I know I'm not of much use, but I will die to save you if I can. You're the only one... who's ever been this kind to me." Katia kept her voice under control with effort.

"I know not what the stars hold for your future, Katia, but it is not your fate to die here today. Do as I say."

Katia started to reply... but she saw a panel opening in the wall behind the Empress. An assassin emerged from a secret passage, bearing a gleaming sword.

Katia snarled and lunged between him and Celestia, readying a flare as the assassin drove the point of his blade at Katia's neck... Everything blurred around her, and her bones shivered as her whole body struck against the rough stones.

Stunned, she thought first that the assassin had struck her and knocked her down, but she was in fact pressed upright, with her back against the wall, and thus she saw the end. Unable to move, she watched as the assassin's deadly razor descended, smashed through the Empress's golden horn, and as she reeled, struck back up from the downstroke to plunge into her chest with a sickening slice. Celestia swiftly crumpled to the floor.

Katia felt the pain in her heart as if the knife had struck her instead. Celestia had used telekinesis to push Katia out of harm's way. And if the Empress hadn't wasted energy and attention on saving Katia's life, she might have been able to defend herself.

If Katia hadn't tried—

If Katia hadn't been here today—

If Katia hadn't even been born, Celestia might still be okay.

Katia's self-loathing surged into a torrent. One way or another, she always hurt the ones she tried to help. Useless, incompetent Khageet! Stupid worthless animal! A yowl of despair and guilt and rage built inside her as the assassin bent over Celestia's body...

Katia fell from the wall as Celestia's spell faded. She spun rapidly on her forehooves and kicked with all her rage and hatred at the assassin, knocking him away from Celestia. He recovered, skidding with hooves striking sparks on the stone floor, and lunged at her with his wicked blade, which pierced her shoulder and ran under her skin.

Katia felt the shock of the wound, but she had suffered worse, much much worse, in her dreams of the Nightmare Queen, and so she merely jumped back and sent a flare at him. It marked him—she saw his scorched fur and the flicker of flames in his mane—but still he came on.

Katia screamed for help, but even as she did so, she heard the shouts and clashing weapons outside the hallway. The Blades were still occupied, and she was on her own. Though hampered by the smallness of the chamber, she leaped back again and again, brushing the stone walls with her flank, avoiding the dead-end alcove, and keeping her distance from the assassin's dancing sword as she launched flare after flare at him. His fur smoked and his flesh blackened, but still he advanced like a relentless nightmare. And still, Katia had known worse.

She felt her magicka running low—she would soon have none left for a healing spell for Celestia. At the assassin's next lunge, she leaped to the side and dodged behind him, using the brief respite to pull forth the shaman's staff. She reared onto her hind legs, wielding the foul object with both hooves, and barely managed to swing it up in time to fend off his plunging blade with a smack to its side. Cornered, she swung the skull end at her foe and felt crackling bolts of power surge along it and into his body, making him dance with branching surges of electricity.

Over and over she blasted him until he staggered and fell to his knees. She dropped the staff, planted her forehooves on the floor, and bucked directly at his face. She felt the sharp crack and the sudden lack of resistance as his magic armor dissolved and his body flew into the corner, his face a red concavity.

Katia rushed to Celestia's side, preparing a healing spell. She tried to release it into Celestia's chest wound, but it surged into Katia's own body and healed her shoulder wound instead. She hadn't yet learned how to cast the healing spell on others! Worthless, incompetent...! She started to dig into her bag for a healing potion.

"Katia..." croaked the Empress, "...save it. My time has come. Take the Amulet..."

Shaking with horror, Katia reached to Celestia's withers, felt between her wings, and found the clasp. It parted like the snapping of a silver thread, and the Amulet of Queens fell to the floor with a terrifying thud. Katia quickly placed it in her saddlebag, then knelt to support Celestia's head and stroke her flowing mane. Bright fire-tinged blood, shot through with streaks of raw magicka, ran from the broken horn and flowed across the floor from the great wound in Celestia's chest. Too much, too much blood...

"Celestia... please... don't die..." Katia's voice shook in a near-scream. "I won't know what to do..."

"Get the Amulet to Jirauffe... Find my child... Close shut the jaws of Oblivion..."

The Empress's sight dimmed. She mastered her failing flesh with a soul-straining effort and looked into Katia's brimming eyes for the last time.

"Your destiny is unknown to me... perhaps even to the Nine. You must... make..."

The golden sun went forever dark.

When Haurus re-entered the chamber, blade at the ready, he saw the limp form of his Empress, mane gray and wings awry, and Katia cradling the sightless royal head and sundered horn and crying all the tears in the world, as she had never wept before for anything or anyone else in the relentless misery of her entire life.

***

Haurus's world was cut from under him. The Empress Celestia was dead. He had failed, the Blades had failed—

He pushed his grief aside with a warrior's discipline. There was no time for it now. Glenbay and Roanault had both fallen with honor in the service of the Empress; it was left to Haurus to try to rescue something from the ashes of failure. He would mourn later if he did not die first—and however long it lasted, he would do penance for the rest of his life.

His gaze fell on Katia. Her face was tear-streaked and her chest was stained with Celestia's blood. Outwardly, she seemed as awkward and frail as ever, but there was a fire lit deep inside her now. Haurus did not know that both a dream and a nightmare had died that day for Katia, and she had now lost every purpose she ever had in life, save one.

She looked up at Haurus through streaming eyes, and in a glance they understood each other. They were both shamed by failure and pierced by guilt, but their hearts were resolved to persevere, and to avenge. The death of the Empress had entwined their fates more firmly than any oath or earthly bond.

Haurus broke the silence. "Pris—Katia. Where is the Amulet of Queens? If the assassins got it—"

"It's here. I have it."

"Then hand it over. Now."

"No." Her voice carried a fatal note. She laid the Empress's head down gently, and stood to face him. "She told me to take it."

Haurus stared at her with a murderous frown, and earlier that day Katia would have flinched in terror and yielded. But her grief, and the discipline she imposed on herself via her self-contempt, had led her to a place beyond emotion or fear, and she stared back at Haurus with unshaken defiance. At length, his eyes softened slightly.

"All right. She trusted you... and I trust her. But you may not understand what this means. Things like Celestia's crown are just jewelry—the Amulet is the real power. For the safety of the realm, it must be worn by Celestia or one of her blood. The Amulet should go immediately to her sister, the Princess Luna..."

Katia shivered. "Celestia said not to trust her. She told me to deliver it to someone named Jirauffe..."

"Really? Jirauffe is the grandmaster of our order, of the Blades. It's not the worst choice, but did she say what for?"

"I'm... supposed to find her child, or something?"

"Jirauffe is male, and... wait, you mean Celestia? Celestia's child?" Haurus's jaw sagged with amazement. "She doesn't have any children! She never had time to have any, either! She's been in the public eye since... Are you sure that's what she said?"

"I'm sure. Can you help me?"

"Yes... I can't believe that I'm about to send an escaped prisoner off into the countryside with the Amulet of Queens, but yes. That secret passage must lead to the sewer entrance, if my nose is any judge. You'll need to get out of the sewer first, but there's mostly rats and maybe some Dogs in it—nothing you can't handle. Jirauffe resides in Wainon Priory, near the city of Chorral." Haurus pulled a pen and a weathered but sturdy piece of parchment from his saddlebag. "Here, take this map—I'll mark the location."

Cold fear brushed Katia's heart. "You... You act like you're not coming with me..."

Haurus placed a dot on the map, then shifted the pen to the corner of his mouth to speak. "I'm not. I need to stay here and guard her body, and give Glenbay and Roanault their last respects, and try to keep you from being followed by the assassins. But if you're what she thought you were, you'll make it."

He gave Katia the map and a key to the sewer entrance, then stood back to gaze at her in disbelief. "Damn, you're young, girl. How old are you?"

"I'm nineteen..." Katia trembled. "I feel ten years younger right now, though."

"Well, take heart. I overheard Celestia showing you a few tricks. Very few people can claim to have been one of her students. You must be a talented Mage, am I right?"

Katia closed her eyes and saw the scene again, as pinned to the wall, unable to act, she watched the assassin's blade shear through Celestia's horn and strike her down.

"I'm a Loser," she said.

Chapter 10

This story contains spoilers for the game Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and the webcomic Prequel.

The few remaining sewer rats had indeed caused little trouble, and Katia had worked her way swiftly through the remainder of the sewer tunnels. She was now standing alone, staring out of the round grating that led from the Celestial sewers to the outside world. She'd thought that she wouldn't be able to leave the mossy, slimy, mephitic tunnels fast enough, but she'd been standing here for long minutes now, locked in thought.

Her task—to bear a precious artifact, upon which the safety of the Celestial empire depended, across the countryside all by herself—smacked of heroism. And she wasn't anything like a real hero, despite the trust the Empress had placed in her. Was this really her destiny? Was it at all possible that she could even do this? She mentally ran over her abilities, searching for a glimmer of hope.

Her name was Katia Maragan. She was a Khageet, a catpony unicorn. She was young, round headed, with improbably large golden eyes and a slim noodly frame.

She was born under the sign of the Atronach, and she could set things on fire by making stupid cat jokes.

And she was still a Loser.

Yeah, everything checked out. There was no hope. Just fiddling around wasn't going to make it any better. To stall a bit further, she checked her inventory for hope as well.

Before she'd left him, Haurus had reclaimed Captain Roanault's katana ("Thanks for recovering it; I'll see that it hangs in a place of honor," he'd said with a disarming smile). Katia still had a short sword, a rusty bow and arrows, various scrolls and potions, a small bag of coins and flawed gems, a mortar and pestle, and much miscellaneous clutter. She had a skull at the end of a stick which could fire lightning bolts, and a single small soul gem that she could use to recharge it once. Dominating all else, she had the Amulet of Queens, which she could feel right through the saddlebag as a persistent deflection in her internal magicka field.

There were also a few bottles of PLAIN ORDINARY WATER which she had found in an old barrel and which she was trying not to think about too much, so she stopped thinking about them, as well as a recovering alcoholic could.

Also, she'd occasionally found old scraps of parchment as she made her way through the sewers. Some were phony deeds to various properties which were just too good to be true (A whole wizard's tower, hers for the taking? Shyeah, right) and one was a coupon for some free barding, obtainable at the Chestnut Hoovey Hostel. Well, that one stood a marginally better chance of being real—maybe she'd check it out. She was holding on to the others for their gag value.

But no real hope here, either. The only thing that came close to qualifying was one last thing she had taken from the chamber where the Empress died, while Haurus was not looking. It was a bloodstreaked, white pinion feather with a sheen of gold. It now rested next to the Amulet, wrapped carefully in a scrap of the cleanest cloth she'd been able to find.

Katia sighed, shook her head, and pushed at the grate, which opened with a squealing of rusted metal and a crunching of nameless filth. She walked slowly out of the pipe into the outside world.

—<§>—

It was night when Katia emerged. The stars that the Empress Celestia had trusted, and which had led her to her death, lay in confusing spatters overhead, serene and to all appearances untouched by earthly concerns. Also in the sky were both moons, Masser and Secunda, their divergent crescents making the heavens look rather walleyed.

Katia remembered the first time that her father had shown her the mystery. He'd taken two apples and held them near each other in broad daylight, showing how the shadow on one fruit looked the same as the shadow on the other. The moons didn't follow these rules. Whatever the dark areas were upon the moons, they weren't shadows; sometimes you could even see stars shining through them.

The moons were supposed to be some of the mortal remains of the god Lorkhan. Just what part of his remains they were was a subject of ribald speculation. The Khageet called them... Katia strove to remember... Chone and Chode? Jack and Jay? She wasn't sure that sounded right. Her Ti'Igra was really rusty.

Katia lowered her eyes. She stood by a dock on the shore of a narrow lake that curved beyond her view to the west and east. On the opposite shore, under tall hills with mountains beyond, stood a white, ghostly ruin of arches and columns, a remnant of the Antelid elkes, whose civilization had dominated the continent of Equestriel many thousands of years in the past.

On a broad hill behind Katia, beyond the sewer pipe, loomed the Celestial City, sometimes called Canterlot. Katia could see the round walls of the prison from which she'd just escaped. Just beyond rose the great stone circle of the city proper, in the center of which stood the tallest tower ever built in antiquity, the White Gold Tower, which in modern times served as the Celestial palace. The city looked quiet and peaceful from here, but Katia could only imagine the chaos happening inside.

Having gotten her bearings, Katia studied the map that Haurus had given her and saw that the Celestial City was in fact standing on a large island surrounded by a thin, roughly circular lake, Lake Rumare. Chorral and Wainon Priory lay almost due west from her. Couldn't she just take a straight line path to her destination and get it over with? Just see this Jirauffe, hand over the Amulet, let it become his problem, and move on with whatever remained of her life? Maybe she could scrape together passage to some other land than this and get another fresh start, or head south and just walk over the border to Elswai, ancestral land of the Khageet...

Well... She'd need more practice in talking to her fellow Khageet before even trying to go to Elswai. None of them seemed to want to talk to her at all. Maybe it was her weird Holsteinfell accent? Okay, so scrape up some money for some Ti'Igra speech lessons first...

Katia absently started to groom herself, then stopped. There was no way she was going to run her tongue over her fur right now. She took a quick bath in the lake instead, washing away the accumulated filth and slime of prison cell and dungeon and sewer. Her chest fur was still stiff and spiky from the Empress's dried blood, but rinsing it off into the same water that she'd just befouled seemed like sacrilege. In the end, she mopped it up with a piece of wet cloth, which she stored carefully in her bag—perhaps she could find a priest who was trained to properly dispose of theoactive materials.

—<§>—

Katia was trotting along the shoreline to the west, a gentle breeze making her damp fur chilly, when her danger music went off again. She turned to see an ugly rocklike lump scuttling towards her, snapping its sharp claws in a fit of vile hatred towards all other living things.

Katia was tempted to burn some magicka and toast the mudcrab for dinner, but she instead drew her bow and notched an arrow, walking backwards in Parthian style. She hadn't gone far when a horrible noise assailed her ears. It was a high pitched ringing, chiming noise coming from behind her, and it struck straight past all her defenses and burrowed into her brain in a furrow of tension, making her miss the mudcrab and lose an arrow. What the hay was it?

She started to panic—the noise got worse the further she retreated from the mudcrab, ruining her concentration, and the hillside by the shore was too steep to climb. She hopped into the water and continued to back away, clumsily launching arrow after arrow until the mudcrab at last gave a hissing chitinous clatter and lay still.

Wet and furious, she plugged her ears as best she could with scraps of cloth and walked back to shore, pausing to loot the crab and retrieve at least a few of her limited supply of arrows. She stalked angrily westward, and soon saw a small aquamarine plant with four long leaves, nestled among some rocks by the shore. The noise got ear piercingly worse as she approached it, cutting right through her makeshift earplugs and nearly driving her mad with pain. That was it!

Wincing and cringing, she quickly seized the plant, yanked it up by the roots, and trampled it fiercely until the horrible noise stopped. Ugh, it smelled noxious! Well, now she knew how to deal with the nasty things.

She trotted off along the shore, leaving the crushed pulp oozing into the sand.

—<§>—

The shoreline bent south as Katia walked, and she now had to make a choice. She could swim across the lake and continue her straight line path, try her luck with a weathered wooden bridge that led north, or head south to the main bridge that extended from Celestial City and pick up the road to Chorral from there.

She was tired of being wet, but she also wanted to avoid any soldiers of the Celestial Legions; she had no idea how they'd react to her or whether Haurus had spoken to them yet about the Empress's effective pardon of her crimes. She also wanted to visit a merchant and sell off some of the excess stuff in her saddlebags, including the BOTTLES OF ENTIRELY NON-ALCOHOLIC WATER, but she could just imagine the reaction if she, an escaped prisoner, went strolling into the Celestial City on the eve of the Empress's assassination, carrying the Amulet of Queens. They'd probably build an entirely new kind of dungeon cell to put her in forever.

Katia looked north across the lake at the far end of the wooden bridge, and saw the remains of a stone fort. Probably full of bandits, or Dogs. She shuddered, then looked back at the water. Just a quick swim straight to the west, and she'd be on her way with a minimum of lost time...

—<§>—

Slaughterfish. Why did slaughterfish have to keep re-entering her life? Particularly vicious ones, too?

Katia muttered as she limped south. She wasn't wounded badly enough to justify using a healing potion or spell, but she was wounded just enough to feel pain. She remembered trying to cast a fire spell. While she was under water. Stupid, stupid... Why was she even fooling herself? She was still a Loser.

And if she could just be satisfied with being a Loser, if she could maturely and rationally accept it, she might stand a chance at a decent life. But some part of her couldn't accept it, and kept pushing her to try, and to fail, and to fail again and again, under the delusion that she was something more.

Dripping wet and morose, she wandered past a wayshrine, a small circle of white columns around an altar inset with a stone bowl. Each wayshrine was dedicated to one of the Nine Divines; Katia sensed that this one was controlled by Julianos, whose powers were said to govern the intellect, and whose wayshrines were sometimes sought by road-weary mages. Julianos would be as good a source to ask as any.

She shivered with cold and apprehension as she stepped into the shrine and approached the altar. She bowed her head, and strove to quiet her thoughts and focus her mind toward the posing of a single question... and perhaps to receive a blessing. She was trying to do something of real importance for once, something to help the Realm and the Empress, who surely had been beloved of the Gods, at least until today. Just a little bit of help would be nice...

After long minutes of silence, in which she grew colder and colder, she realized that there would be no answer. She just wasn't popular enough, it seemed. She sighed and backed out of the shrine.

As she turned back on the path that led to the Celestial bridge, Katia looked up at the moons, which still gave the appearance of staring at opposite sides of the horizon. The sky seemed on the verge of challenging her, demanding to know just what she thought that she was. Her silent question rose to her lips.

"...Am I a Wizard?" she asked.

The moons and stars gave no answer.