Year 2534, 14th of Year’s End, Hour 30 – Norrg’kl, Yorn’s Workshop – Solaria’s POV

“Alright, that’s good enough for tonight.”

Yorn backs away from his supervising position near the anvil while I dip a burning red rod of metal into the cooling oil. As the metal makes contact, it creates a wave of steam with a sharp hiss. Quickly, the metal cools. I pull it from the liquid, slipping the metal onto a special rack before canceling the magical smithing gloves I created with Mage Armor.

I pull off the heavy blacksmith apron, using an old rag to wipe the sweat from my fur. As I join Yorn in his living room, Drukl comes bounding over to me, circling around my legs before bouncing back to his master.

“Go ahead and get cleaned up. I’ll start working on dinner,” Yorn says, walking into his kitchen area.

“The offer still stands you know,” I say, stopping in the bathroom doorway. “I don’t mind cooking.”

“You may not mind it,” Yorn says, amusement in his voice. “But I refuse to let you cook ever again.”

I roll my eyes.

“It’s not my fault you Minotaurs can’t handle traditional Canterlot meals.”

“Solaria. You turned soup into ash. I didn’t even know such a thing was possible.”

“I—…can’t argue against that…”

I turn into the bathroom and spend some time cleaning up after a long day of work.

==|000|==

“Alright, out with it!” I say, catching Yorn’s eyes for the third time tonight.

So far throughout the entire meal, Yorn had been staring at me, looking away when I caught him.

“It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve,” he eventually says after staying silent for several seconds.

I blankly stare at him for a moment before returning a snarky response.

“Brilliant deduction. In other equally exciting news, there’s a massive blizzard layering the ground with several inches of snow…”

Yorn takes a swig from his tankard.

“No reason to get so snappy, it was just an observation. If I may, why aren’t you more excited?”

“Because,” I begin, the sarcasm heavily lacing my words. “Like I said last year, Hearth’s Warming is a scam to get foolish Anthow’s to waste their hard-earned bits on gifts for friends and family that’ll ultimately be forgotten in a few weeks. I think a more important question, is why are you so obsessed with it?”

“I’m ‘obsessed’ with it, because the holiday represents more than your pessimistic summarization,” Yorn retorts, leaving the table in favor for his rocking chair. I follow him and sit in my own chair across the fire from his.

“From what I’ve read, Hearth’s Warming is the celebration of the bond you share with friends and family, about celebrating your memories and relationships one’s created over the years.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes.

That’s why I hate it…

I wince, realizing the mistake I just made.

“It’s not the gift-giving you hate about the holiday, is it?”

“Can you not just mind your own business for once in your life?” I snap at him.

I sigh.

Perhaps, it would be good for me to tell someone… To get this pain off my chest.

“No, it has nothing to do with the gifts.”

“You can tell me if you wish. I won’t pry,” Yorn says, his voice growing softer.

“Do not pretend to feel sympathetic for me,” I warn. “It will not help.”

I lean back in my rocking chair, resting my left arm on the armrest and resting my head in my hand.

“What I’m about to tell you… will not put me in the best of light, nor will it be easy for me, so… just bear with me,” I say. My mind, voice, and body become tired as the weight of my experiences weighs upon me. I think over how to start and what to say.

“Hearth’s Warming,” I begin. “used to mean something to me. In fact, it was my favorite holiday, because it guaranteed time with…”

I pause, feeling my composure slip. I take a moment to regain it before continuing.

“…with my father.”

The memories of him resurface after being submerged for so long. I give a single, soft laugh.

“Or rather my foster father. Those days of flying down the stairs to see him after his long days of working were some of the best memories I hold. I never cared about the small gifts he could afford to bring me, I only ever wanted to spend time with him.”

“Were you poor?” Yorn asks. “What of your mother?”

The happy memories burn away, being replaced with vile ones. My reminiscing voice shifts to a hard and angry tone.

“…My father was poor because he had a daughter to care for. My ‘mother’… was worse than the Canterlot Elite…”

I narrow my gaze at the fire, my face twisting into a scowl.

“She was loaded, making enough as Captain of the Guard to rival some lower-end Elites. But, since she hated me, she wouldn’t use a single bit to provide for me. My father was so angry at her, even divorcing her over it. She didn’t even try to fight for claims. So, my father nearly worked himself to death every day to provide for himself and me. It was a hard lifestyle, but I grew used to it. At least until…”

I pause, my composure slipping further. A knot forms in my throat. I fight to keep it down.

I can’t do this… It hurts too much… Stop now before it’s too late…

“Until…” Yorn’s voice coaxes me back to reality.

“Until he… died,” I choke out, struggling to maintain control. Something wet streaks down my face from my blind eye. I wipe the tear from my face, taking several deep breaths.

“There, there was an accident at his job. I don’t know how, only that he was, instantly killed.”

My deep breaths shutter. Any sense of control will I have will fail if I keep going.

Keep your composure… Focus on something else…

“After his funeral… I, I had to live with Vaelum again,” I quietly mutter, the grief of my father’s death passing.

“Staying with her was a nightmare.”

“Did she beat you?”

“No, not physically at least. She would yell at me every chance she got, over the smallest of things.”

I can feel the grief being replaced with hate.

“I had to learn how to survive on my own, at the age of eight. Since I was too young to find a job, and Vaelum kept everything locked, I would sneak to the markets and steal from the vendors. Eventually, I taught myself how to lockpick, and began to steal from Vaelum.”

The hatred I feel increases. The grief is long gone, replaced with seething anger.

“This went on for years! I dropped out of school, spending all my time trying to not die from hunger. And as I got older, the verbal abuse got worse! That sahkira pushed me to the brink of suicide…”

“But,” I continue. “During my lowest point, she unknowingly brought purpose into my life. She gave me a will for revenge. She made me take all the self-hatred I had, and divert it onto her. I wanted to kill her, and I almost did. One night, I hid in her room with a revolver I had found of hers, ready to shoot her the moment she walked through her door.”

I lightly smile.

“I was a foolish child. Had I actually killed her, things would be much different. Thankfully, she brought someone home with her, so I didn’t fire that gun. I was stuck in that closet for hours, listening to those two have sex. While in there however, I found something that changed me: Vaelum’s Captain armor. It sparked plans in my mind; better alternatives to murder. After I knew for sure I could safely leave, I did.”

I fall silent again, the memories now clear as a freshwater spring.

“The next day, I completely abandoned my standard education, focusing on something I deemed to be more important.”

Yorn’s voice tickles my ear, but I ignore whatever it was he said, too focused on remembering my past.

“From that point forward, I taught myself all I could about war, combat, and military strategy. I worked harder than ever to grow my magical strength and physical strength. When I reached adulthood, my first act was to join the Royal Guard. At first, they wouldn’t let me in since I didn’t have a diploma. But I persisted, eventually passing grueling entry the tests they gave me. To be honest, I was in way over my head. The first few weeks were some of the toughest days of my life. Still, I managed to work my way through the ranks, eventually reaching the rank of Lieutenant Captain.”

I smile again.

“Then, one day as the Royal Guard was protecting Sarabia against the Abyssinian’s invasion… Vaelum suffers a fatal hit. She died as I stood over her …”

“You let her die…” Yorn’s voice is filled with surprised horror.

“Yes, I let her die. I watched as she bled out, telling her that she was dying alone, without those who cared for her. I turned my back as she drew her last few breaths.”

“You took your revenge,’ Yorn says. I can hear the disapproval in his voice.

“And what would you have done differently, if you were in my place? I snap. “Would you really have helped the one who mentally abused you for your entire life?”

Yorn stares at the fire.

“You gave your life story,” he eventually says. “Now let me give mine.”

Yorn adjusts his position in his chair.

“In my youth, I was apart of Clan Brutus, the second-largest Minotaur clan. Despite what the name suggests, Clan Brutus was not brutal. The clan is made of traders and merchants that would rather barter and debate than kill. My mother was from Brutus, but my father was from Clan Torrik. If anything, Clan Torrik should have the name of Brutus. Anyways, my father, who was a Torrik pureblood, fled from the clan to Brutus. For what reason he fled I do not know, but when he fled, he brought his beliefs with him. He made sure to instill his Torrik beliefs into his three sons as well.”

Yorn stands and stokes the fire, returning to his chair before continuing.

“The eldest and the youngest didn’t take his lessons to heart, but the middle son did. That son did everything that Clan Brutus was against: killing for fun, tormenting those weaker, and lashing out when things didn’t go the way he wanted.”

“Are you talking of yourself?” I ask. “I find that hard to believe…”

“Yes, I am speaking of myself. I was a dangerous child. I had inherited my mother’s telepathy and my father’s temper, while being smart enough to know how to hide my actions. I would use my power to twist my words to match what others would want to hear, before backstabbing them and taking what I want myself. If they would somehow resist, I would grow violent. Eventually, I grew careless in my actions. I was caught by some guards, right in the act. The clan elders punished me and told me that if I were to be caught again, I would be banished from the clan. I was smart enough to know when to stop.”

“Did you really?”

“Actually, I did stop. I kept to myself, taking my anger out on trees and other, non-Sentient creatures. It worked for a while. Unfortunately, those that I had bullied saw an opportunity to return the favor. They tormented me as I had once tormented them. As I look back, I will say that I deserved everything they said and did to me. But in the moment, their actions blinded me with rage. I thought of the ways to get back at them. Eventually, they pushed me over the edge. I…”

Yorn pauses. I can see intense regret etched on his face.

“I turned to the destruction of property, focusing on a intricate statue that had rested in front of a bullies home for centuries. I didn’t destroy it, but rather I vandalized it. What I had done was more of a dishonor than I had intended it to be. That night, I woke up to everyone in my family dead, except my elder brother who was away. He blamed me for their deaths. Well, I was furious. I disowned my brother and fled from my home. I then did what I regret most of all. I returned the favor; I killed not only the bully, but completely wiped his homestead from the clan. It was burned to ashes, along with another home that was close by.

Yorn looks away from me.

“Understand me, Solaria. Revenge, in the moment, may feel like the best possible action to take. But all it does in create a cycle. A horrible, destructive cycle that will burn everything in its path, even those which are innocent. As a result of my own insecurities, three families were destroyed. One of which had nothing to do with it. Because of me, my own family is destroyed when it all could’ve been avoided.”

Yorn stands, walking to the doorway that leads to the workshop.

“So please,” he says, halting in the doorway. “I beg you to not take revenge against those who’ve wronged you, for you have no idea what horrors it will create. Be the bigger soul and break the cycle. You don’t have to excuse their actions, or even forgive them, but don’t let their choices consume you and spawn a cataclysm of death and destruction.”

Yorn sighs.

“I need some time alone,” he hoarsely says. “Please don’t bother me…” He walks through, closing the door behind him.

I stay seated. Drukl walks up to me, slipping his head under my hand. I absent-mindedly pat it, as my mind is spinning over the past ten minutes.

“I need to think…” I mutter to myself.

I rise from my chair, grabbing my torn cloak and wrapping it around my shoulders. I exit Yorn’s home through the front door, stepping out into the cold night. A blizzard wasn’t active at the moment, although the gray cloud cover still hung over the sky as it always did. Even without a blizzard or wind, the air was still freezing. It sends chills down my spine.

I ignite and cast Exposure onto myself. After casting the spell, I meander my way towards the massive bonfire near the gates, still blazing since the day I arrived.

What do they use to keep that thing fueled? I haven’t ever seen it unlit…

A million other thoughts raced through my mind as well, most of them of Yorn’s past, and the rest of my own.

I can’t believe I revealed so much of my past to him, along with nearly breaking down. I can’t lose myself like than again. It didn’t even relieve any weight from my mind…

I reach the fire, canceling Exposure as the roaring flames replace the spells effects. I cross my arms against my stomach.

And he didn’t tell me all that emotional baggage just to relate with me, oh no. It was too coincidental… He must know of my plans against Celestia… His obnoxious telepathy is such a drag… Why else would he speak of revenge in such a way…

I snap out of my deep thinking as I hear hoofsteps approach. I ignite a shield spell and Lightning Bolt, ready to fight at a moment’s notice. I see the steps are from a Minotaur, taking a late-night stroll. The beast stomps by, sharing the glare I give him. We both stare at one another until he breaks it to continue on his path.

Dumb leathersack…

I disable the spells and start to slowly pace around the fire.

I will admit, Yorn is not wrong… Revenge tends to be an extreme response. But I also feel that revenge is okay when it is justified! What Celestia did deserves proper retaliation… She is not the same as Yorn’s childhood bullies. The circumstances were different.

I stop pacing.

No, the circumstances are the same… Celestia is nothing but a bully, albeit the worst form. Yorn is right. Whatever I would do short of killing her would spark a response twice as strong… But, the difference is, Celestia has nothing left on me…

I begin to walk back towards Yorn’s home, recasting Exposure.

What I don’t understand is the regret Yorn spoke of. Watching Vaelum die as I stood over her was satisfying. I felt no regret, and I still don’t.

A sudden blast of icy wind cuts through Norrg’kl, sending shivers down my back, even with Exposure active. As I brace against the wind, the tie of my cloak snaps, sending the ragged cloth flying from my back. I ignite Telekinesis, catching the cloth with the spell. I pull it back to my hands and inspect the break.

Cheap, synthetic material… I’m honestly surprised it took this long to break. Now I have to waste my time trying to fix this…

The winds continue to grow in strength as I run to Yorn’s front door.

Wait a minute… why waste time learning to fix this garbage when I can simply purchase a brand new one, made of actual fur…

I look across the street to that leather shop. I hadn’t seen the Minotaur that ran the shop since I had arrived two years ago. At the time at least, he seemed to be one of the more self-controlled Minotaurs.

Perhaps I could commission… Ah svist, I can’t… I have no way of paying for it…

Feeling frustration, I turn back to Yorn’s home and twist the knob to enter. The door refuses to budge. I sharply sigh, grabbing a spare key Yorn had given me from a pocket. I quietly unlock the door, sneak in, close the door and relock.

The fire is still burning, filling the room with a dark orange flickering. Yorn was in his bed, appearing to be asleep. Drukl is also in his own bed, out cold.

Let’s see if I can get through the night without that ‘dog’ bothering me…

I cancel Exposure and set the gear I took with me near my spot. The simple bedroll I was borrowing had been replaced with an actual cot. It was much more comfortable.

Despite my exhaustion from the day’s work, and the recent emotion dumping, I’m not tired. Rather, I was excited to see if my long-term project was successful. Sitting cross-legged onto the cot, I ignite and cast Magical Meditation. The familiar shimmering waves and shifting colors enter and pass through my vision as I’m transported again into my Meditative Plane.

I open my eyes, greeted by the ever-familiar lush floating islands and sunset sky. The calmness enters my body and mind as I slowly travel along the dirt path leading to the cabin.

The caw of a bird catches my attention. I look up at a thick branch overhanging the path. Sitting there is a raven, its sleek black feathers holding a faint red sheen from the light. It hops slightly along the branch, cocking its head and quietly cawing at me. I hold out my arm in its direction. It leaps from the branch onto my limb, climbing from my forearm to my shoulder.

I smile as I stroke the raven’s chest feathers, earning several soft caws from the creature.

It took two years, but I had finally done it. I had successfully created a form of entity, an entity capable of its own free will, within my meditative plane. I was unable to do so before, only creating life which was connected to my own will.

Now I can use live targets in my training… Finally…

I quickly walk to the cabin, shooing the raven from my shoulder. I mentally reshape the area in front of the cabin, removing the foliage and smoothing the land. The dirt and grass are replaced with smooth stone, slightly raised from the surrounding grass surface.

With the new area set, I begin to craft another entity, with the sole purpose of being a target dummy and bearing a liking to a certain Queen I hated with my entire being.

15th of Year’s End, Hour 7 – Norrg’kl, Yorn’s Living Room – Solaria’s POV

My mind readjusts to normal existence as my mind leaves my Meditative Plane. I was almost done creating the practice dummy, when my body within the Plane became soaking wet. There was a single suspect that came to mind.

As I had thought, Drukl is behind it. He had left his own bed and taken refuge on my cot, using my lap as a pillow. The animal is out cold, drooling furiously.

I was still furious, but also numb to it at this point. The behavior shown from the stupid animal had been consistent for every single day of the two years I had been staying with Yorn.

I don’t know why I expected anything else…

I glance at Yorn, seeing that the Minotaur is still asleep. Igniting Telekinesis, I grab Drukl and float him over to his bed. He doesn’t react at all, still dead to the world. All the drool that’s soaked into my cot is separated and gathered into a sphere in front of me.

It’s quite a sight to see a half-foot diameter sphere made entirely of wolf-drool. It was disgusting. With a dead stare, I float the drool ball over to Drukl and drop it onto his form.

This finally wakes him. Drukl jolts awake, his eyes the size of dinner plates. I stare at him until he makes eye contact with me. His face drops into the equivalent of a deadpan stare. Drukl whines and flicks his muzzle upward at me.

“That’s what you get, ‘dog,’” I whisper to him. “You should know by now that I don’t like you on my cot!”

Drukl obnoxiously snorts and set to the task of licking himself, as wetly and loudly as he possibly can. The sound is very off-putting.

Uhgh…

I stand up from my cot and stretch, several satisfying pops come from my stiff legs and back. As I continue to stretch out my body, my eye catches the ruined cloak. The idea I had last night comes to mind.

Hmm, perhaps I can see about a trade deal instead of coin payment.

I gather the cloak, quietly unlocking the door and relocking once outside. I ignite and cast Exposure, the frigid morning air still shocking my system.

By the time I leave this wretched place, I’ll have used Exposure more than Telekinesis… But, I’d rather deal with the cold than listen to Drukl lick himself…

I cross the frozen street to the leather shop. I look around the front of the building. There was no indication as to whether the store was open or not.

I try the handle, carefully inching the door inward. It opens without resistance. I take this as a sign of an open shop and step in.

Nothing had changed since I was here last, at least from what I can tell. The walls still held various pelts leading up to the counter. The owner of the shop is behind the counter, his back to me.

As I enter, he turns to face me, giving a bored expression until his face flashes with recognization.

“Hmph,” he snorts. “I thought you’d be dead by now…”

“Well, as you can see, I’m still here,” I retort. “And don’t get any ideas of your own. I’ll beat you the same way I beat Orn’gar.”

The Minotaur’s expression shifts.

“So, you’re the culprit behind his scene.”

“You were there?” I’m caught off-guard by the sudden shift of attitude.

“Yes!” he laughs. “I remember vividly how loud that scream was! He was so scared, he almost stabbed Julr!”

The Minotaur releases a booming bout of laughter. As the humor dies down, he coughs into a fist.

“What do you want?”

I toss the ruined cloak at him. He catches it with one hand and starts to look it over.

“Geez, what did you do to ruin it this bad…” he mutters.

“Can you make a new one or not?”

He deadpans at me.

“You’re speaking to the best leathercrafter in Norrg’kl,” he says. “I can easily do it. The issue is, I don’t know if I feel like it…”

Oh please…

“First off, can you even pay for something like this?”

“Tell me what it would cost first.”

He smugly grins.

“You can’t pay, can you?”

My mouth twitches.

“…Not with coin, but maybe I can offer my services.”

He looks me over, giving an amused snort.

“Yeah, that just seems like asking for disaster.”

I can feel my skin beginning to boil.

“Not that kind of service you faraking idiot!” My hands tighten into fists as my voice raises. “I can make something!!”

“What would you know how to make that I could possibly need?”

“I work with the blacksmith, dipsvist!”

The Minotaur perks up. “You… work with Yorn?? Do you live with him too?”

“Yes…? Why does—"

My question is drowned out as the Minotaur falls into another bout of booming laughter. I can only stand there confused while this beast is laughing like a foal. Eventually, he calms himself down.

“You’re the first Sentient that’s gotten him out of his shell. That’s truly a feat. Okay, I’ll do it! As a thanks from his nephew, I’ll cut the cost of a brand-new cloak in half. Does that sound like a reasonable deal?”

The Minotaur doesn’t wait for a response, reaching underneath the counter and drawing a piece of parchment and a quill. He begins to write out a few things.

“It’ll be a few weeks before I can get started on this. Also, I’ll need your shoulder measurements and your desired materials. By the way, what’s your name even?”

“…Solaria.”

“F’jub,” he says. “It’s been a pleasure. Now,” he hands me the parchment and turns away from me. “Get out. I have much work to do, and I don’t need you bothering me any longer.”

I roll my eyes before leaving his shop.

Absolute crackhead…

I return to Yorn’s home and head back inside. Yorn is already up, currently making a morning meal. Drukl is on his bed, giving me a stink eye.

“Aah, there you are,” Yorn says, suspiciously cheery.

“Okay, why are you so excited,” I ask.

“Oh, no specific reason.”

“You know, for someone who can read emotions, you certainly don’t do a good job hiding yours.”

“Wait until after we eat,” he says, all the while smiling.

What does he have planned…

“Fine…”

==|000|==

Throughout the entire meal, Yorn held a faint smile upon his face. It honestly is a little concerning. I hadn’t seen him ever smile so much before.

I’ll bet it has to do with whatever he’s hiding from me.

I’m sitting in my spot at the table, having finished my food long before him for once, contemplating what could possibly have the older Minotaur so excited. Finally, he finishes his food.

“Alright, you’re done. Now please, tell me what’s gotten you so excited, else I’ll start to believe that you’re losing your mind.”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Let me go and get it,” he says, quickly standing and speed-walking towards his shop.

“‘Get it,’” I ask, confused. “Wait a minute… you better not—”

Yorn disappears before I can finish.

He better not have done what I think he’s done…

Yorn returns to his living room, holding a small leather pouch. He passes it to me, the pouch clinking from the action. I tentatively undo the leather string that was tied around the top. Within were several silver coins bearing the crest of Griffonia, otherwise known as Gyffs.

In any other country, these coins would be next to worthless, especially since Griffonia’s collapse. In Norrg’kl however, Gyffs are an extremely valuable form of currency.

“Yorn,” I slowly say. “truly, I appreciate this gesture, and do not believe I think otherwise, but I can’t accept this.” I look up at his face, it still beaming. “These coins are too valuable for you to give them to me.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I have plenty more. Think of this as a bonus for your help, to use however you wish.”

I sigh.

“I’ll accept this if you answer me honestly,” I look him dead in the eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

The cheerful grin begins to falter. “W-well it’s Hearth’s Warming—”

“Don’t try and bullsvist me, Yorn,” I quickly cut him off. “I know you don’t celebrate it. Why are you doing this?”

His smile completely disappears, replaced with a semi-distraught frown.

“Alright, I won’t hide it,” He says, moving to sit across from me again. “I’ve thought much about what you told me last night. Most of your life has been devoid of happiness and joy from what you’ve said. And despite your dismissal of this time of year, I was trying to replace, for at least a few minutes, the bitterness with joy. This was going to only be the first, but if you don’t want me to, I can stop…”

His increasingly melancholy rambling drags off as he catches me shaking my head.

“Hold on,” I say. “This gift, is quite unexpected, and I will admit that it made me feel somewhat uncomfortable to receive one after so many decades, but your explanation reminded me of what F’jub told me. If doing this makes you happy, then I won’t try and stop it.”

Yorn’s smile slowly returns.

“It does make me happy.”

“It is because I’ve given you back something you’ve yearned after for a long time? The feeling of family, perhaps?”

“What makes you say that?”

“I was told that I’m the first Sentient you’ve grown attached to since you arrived in Norrg’kl.”

Yorn stares off into space for a moment before jolting back to reality.

“In a way, yes. You’ve become more than a guest, much like Drukl. You’re family, at least in my eyes. Like a daughter I never had…”

He chuckles. I lightly smile.

I grab the pouch and hold it in front of me.

“I’ll accept keep this and other gifts IF,” I hold up a finger. “You don’t go overboard. Please try to keep it to Hearth’s Warming only.”

Yorn’s full smile returns.

“Deal!”

Author's Note

Finally, I'm posting something fresh and new! It's been in the works for a while, so thanks to those that held on to this story through my antics and rewrites.

As always, please leave your comments!

Here's a better explanation of the spells used if you're interested, written in this Google Doc.

--Thanks to HoneyBacho for assisting with editing and world continuity