LossView OnlineThe Queenly MaskLossFalling was not the leading cause of death in Zephyr Heights. Of course, it wasn't for lack of trying. Bold foals just on the cusp of adulthood would venture to the outcroppings just beyond the city limits, trying to catch updrafts on newly formed feathers that could not feel its shape. Pegasi of all ages sometimes wandered too close to that edge between land and sky, spreading wings to feel the warmth of the sun on their feathers; to approximate that which they no longer had. Because of this, soldiers diligently patrolled the mountains at regular intervals. The barrier between hooves on solid ground and certain death below. One was more likely to be struck by lightning than die by falling. So why was it that a soldier had told Fairweather Haven that was how her Thunder had died? The castle was far too large now. Far too empty. Even late as it was, the usual gentle chatter of staff and staccato taps of hooves were replaced by an oppressive silence. As she made her way from the ornate main halls to the personal family chambers, she caught glances of pity before gazes were averted, as it had been for the past week. Sometimes an unsteady, quiet voice would rise to reflect that first soldier's words: "I'm so sorry." The weight of it all settled on Haven's withers, and it was an effort to keep her head up to wear that queenly mask in public. Even her mourning had to be a carefully constructed performance, so long as she was in the eye of the public: she had to bleed for them, just enough to be recognized as in mourning, but never too much. No pony wanted to see raw grief. As she stepped onto the carpeting of the private chambers, she allowed it all to bear down on her. Eyes burned and breath labored in a too tight throat to reach lungs that would never fill. Her hooves dragged ever so slightly across the ground, leaving slight trails in the carpet that would be gone by morning. Her steps carried her away from her own room, a place so thick with memories that she would suffocate the moment she dared venture inside. An ear flicked as the ghost of his laughter drifted past her, and she bit down a sob that threatened to tear from her throat. Instead, she made her way to Pipp's room, swallowing down her grief and her mourning because her daughters needed their mother more than ever. The simple door to the toddler's room made no noise when Haven slowly opened it. She slipped inside, closing it behind her so that the light from the hall wouldn't spill inside and risk awakening the younger princess. It was so much brighter than the gentle light of her nightlight, that bathed the room in a soft blue light. Haven navigated the various stuffed animals and tech toys strewn about to the crib. She hoisted herself up to look down at a sleeping Pipp, nestled in her blankets and with one leg wrapped around her favorite stuffed animal, a royal blue dragon with delicate wings. Her other hoof hovered by her mouth, where Haven knew she'd been suckling on it. A blanket shifted when a small, barely feathered wing fluttered beneath it in her sleep. Despite everything, warmth blossomed against that cold, heavy weight in Haven's chest. She reached down, running a hoof over Pipp's mane and causing one of her ears to flick, though she did not stir. A smile pulled at Haven's muzzle, and she readjusted her covers. Pipp rolled over, curling tighter around herself and burying deeper in her makeshift nest. "Sleep well, darling," Haven whispered, lowering herself to all fours. She settled on the floor to watch Pipp for a few minutes more. As she slept, her tiny chest rising and falling with new life, reality wormed its way back into Haven's heart with its sharp, unyielding thorns. Pipp was so young. She would grow older and have only ghosts of her father to remember him by. She'd just come to rest her head on forelegs, when she heard the door to the room open. The yellow light from the hall spilled into the room, and she sent a desperate glance towards Pipp to make sure it hadn't awakened her. She slept on, and a sigh of relief escaped Haven's lips. "Mommy?" Zephyrina's voice came from behind her. Haven rocked too her hooves with some effort, exhaustion beginning to mingle with sorrow to gum up joints. She turned to face her elder daughter. The young Zephyrina, just five years old, stood just outside the room, hair and tail messy from tumultuous sleep and her wings fluttering anxiously at her sides. On her back was perched a stuffed bear, lying precariously against her neck. It was dressed like a math professor, though his glasses had long since fallen off and been lost. Her eyes were rimmed with red. She sniffed, her whole body hitching with it. "What's wrong Zephyrina?" She left the room with a final goodnight to Pipp, and once again closed the door. Zephyrina shuffled her hooves, looking anywhere but her mother. Haven rested a wing along her back, careful not to dislodge her bear. Beneath her feathers she could feel her small body trembling. A tail flicked against her belly. "I had a bad dream," she said with another sniff, quieter this time. She pressed close to Haven's barrel, adding, "I miss daddy." "I know, dearest." She pulled her close, practically trapping her beneath her wing, before letting go. "I miss him too." It was so unfair, she thought, a flash of rage running red hot through her. Unfair to make children so young confront a thing so ugly as death. And now she had to raise them on her own. Her tail lashed, just once, before she managed to force it still. "'m I in trouble?" Zephyrina asked, always observant despite Haven's best efforts, in a meek little voice. A thing so fragile in the evening air. "No," Haven was quick to reassure. She leaned down to nuzzle against Zephyrina, coming to find wet fur where she had been crying and her heart broke just a bit more. "No, you're not in trouble for being up past your bedtime." Zephyrina looked as if she didn't believe her for a long moment, before giving a nod. "Okay," she said. "Come on," Haven said, "let's get you back to bed. I'll even read you a story, if you'd like." Zephyrina's face lit up at that prospect. The two set off towards her room just down the hall, where Haven could see the soft lavender glow of Zephyrina's bedside star lamp spilling out through the open door. Though Zephyrina was not smiling there was a more lively bounce in her step. Her small wings spread out slightly, to keep her rider from sliding off her back. Unlike Pipp's room, Zephyrina's was meticulously clean; the filly took her duty of "clean up" very seriously. All the toys were in their place, either on her bed or tucked away in a toy chest, ornately carved with the figures of pegasi in flight. While Zephyrina crawled into bed, Haven made her way to the bookshelf tucked into the room's corner. The selection there was small, space mostly taken up by trinkets too delicate to place in the toy chest. A hoof hovered over a plain music box that held a tiny figurine of a rearing pegasus, its stain glass wings spread in triumph. It was a gift from her paternal grandmother, for her first birthday. She passed over the chapter books that she and Thunder would read to Zephyrina little by little, night by night. Beside them were child friendly introductions to math and science, and Haven lingered on them. Her hoof trailed along spines already beginning to show signs of how well loved they were. A smile pulled at Haven's lips, even as her chest ached with a fresh wave of grief. The magic of flight may be lost to the pegasus, but Thunder had instead given their daughter the magic of numbers. How many times had she gone to retrieve her daughter, only to find her at Thunder's desk? Pestering him with questions while he tried to grade papers for the classes he taught at the city's most prestigious university. And he'd be indulging her with a smile, every time. A foal's sense of wonder was a marvelous thing, he'd told her once, it needs to be nurtured. She wasn't sure she was up to the task. Not alone. "Can you read me the one about the astronomer?" Zephyrina chirped from her bed, drawing Haven from her thoughts. "The one where she falls in love with the moon?" Haven said, already pawing through the books to find it. "And she asks the stars for help every night, but she has to learn their names first," Zephrina recited. It was, after all, her favorite story. Haven chuckled softly as she retrieved the small, well worn picture book. Its cover was adorned by a watercolor rendering of the moon with a mare in profile depicted in its craters, overlooking an old fashioned observatory tower. On the highest balcony, looking back at the moon, stood a small lavender pegasus. The Stars will Guide Her was scrawled across the bottom. Zephyrina buried deeper under her blankets when Haven took position beside her bed. She hugged her bear closer to her, eyes wide and locked on Haven. She opened the book, and began to read: "Once upon a time, there was a lonely scholar...."
ConnectionsView OnlineThe Queenly MaskConnectionsA decade passed. The world returned to some kind of normal, and Haven got better at hiding the nagging pang of loss. She trotted through the busy halls of the castle, where all hooves were on deck in last minute preparation for that evening's celebration. Everyone scurried out of her way, dipping their heads with polite "Majesty" before returning to their tasks; she offered every one of them a well practiced, picture perfect smile. It was easy, at least, to keep the scowl of frustration from coloring her features. She had already completed her own preparations: mane and tail styled to perfection. Wings groomed so there wasn't a feather out of place. The harness for flight wires was already snug against her barrel, hidden from view by her fur (not that anyone knew to look for something awry, anyway), just in case she needed to spend time managing last minute disasters. Or wrangling wayward daughters. Haven had already stopped by Pipp's rehearsal to make sure her youngest was on schedule; she loved the glitz and glamour too much to drag her hooves, but on occasion she needed an extra nudge from Mom. Even if that nudge came in the form of directing her in which style to use for her mane. On this evening it seemed like she needed no such intervention, as Haven heard her running scales from outside the door. She moved on without even knocking, considering herself lucky that she had no great hurdles with Pipp. At least not yet. The princess was only twelve, after all. That only left Zipp. A frazzled stylist had come up to her, just as she was leaving Pipp's studio, to confirm what she already knew: Zipp had vanished, and no one could find her. This was becoming an increasingly frequent - increasingly frustrating - habit of hers as she grew older. Haven had graciously thanked the stylist and dismissed her with a dip of her head, smothering down the anger that spiked in her chest and crawled its way into her throat. It was only thanks to years of practice that it did not tighten her smile into something in the realm of threat. The wing that housed the royal library was empty of personnel. No clamoring of hooves, no cacophony of voices calling out to each other to make sure everything was running as smoothly as possible. Haven's ear flicked at the absence of that noise, filled only by the tapping of her own hoofsteps. It was only then, truly alone, that she allowed her mask to slip away into a Motherly Fury. She picked up her pace the last stretch to the library, where she knew with all the experience of a Mother that Zipp would be. As the filly grew older and had set into her surly teen years, she'd gotten ideas. "Zephyrina Storm," she called as she opened the ornately carved door. It closed behind her with a thud far quieter than its size would suggest. "I know you're in here." Her ears twisted for noise, and sure enough there it was: the quiet shuffling of someone tucked away towards the back, without the clamor outside to disguise her. Haven rolled her eyes and she released the huff building up in her throat, setting off through the rows of shelves. The shuffling of hooves and papers grew only louder as she approached, and her ears pressed back against her skull as every hoofstep only drew up more annoyance that was bubbling in her belly. She could hear muttering now, though soft enough to be unintelligible. Rounding a corner of a stack of texts on aerodynamics, she finally came into view of her daughter. She was sat at one of the many tables dotting the library, surrounded by open books and sheets of paper. Too preoccupied with looking at whatever was in the books and scribbling down notes (and then double checking and cross referencing in a frantic display that was just like her father), Zipp did not move to acknowledge Haven. Her mane and tail were unruly, only half done as if Zipp had slipped away in the middle of her styling. Specks of dirt and blots of ink marred the snowy white fur of her fetlocks. The only thing in impeccable condition were her wings, her newly grown primaries groomed with loving care until they were pristine. Haven stomped a hoof. "Zephyrina Storm," she repeated. "What do you think you're doing?" A question that carried not her authority as a queen, but her authority as a mother. "What does it look like?" was the reply. Unfazed. Uninterested. Zipp paid her mother no further mind, flipping to the next page in the textbook she was engrossed in. "Skirting your duties," Haven snapped. "We're on a schedule." Zipp hummed, her tail giving an idle flick. She pushed aside the book and pulled a stack of papers towards her. "Why do I need to be there," she said, tone even and cold. "All eyes are going to be on Pipp anyway." Haven closed the distance between them, and she had half a mind to snatch the papers away. But she smothered the idea down, though she didn't quite extinguish it, because there was no need to escalate. Yet. She took a deep breath, held it in her lungs, and let it out in a low, long sigh in an attempt to calm herself. "You are Crown Princess," she said, voice tight for all she was trying to suppress. "And my daughter." It was then that Zipp finally looked up, her jaw set in defiance and her brows furrowed. "I don't want to." She returned to her reading, picking up a pen and tapping it against her muzzle in thought. "It's stupid, and I don't want any part in this charade." Haven rolled her eyes. She gave her head a shake, careful not to ruffle her mane. "You know why it's important." It was a familiar argument. She couldn't help the impatience seeping into the word's she'd heard so many times growing up, and had said herself so many times before. "We're giving hope to ponies." "Hope to ponies my tail!" Zipp stomped a hoof, and then jabbed it at Haven. "If we were really about giving them hope, we'd be working day and night to figure out how to fix things!" She gestured at her work, at all the books on aerodynamics and aviation that they had. Information that scholars older and wiser than Zipp had poured over for centuries. "With science, not just sitting around waiting for magic to come back." "You are fifteen years old." It was never ending with her. She spoke with a tone that any other pony would have cowered under. One that brook no argument. "You are not going to have a breakthrough that our top scholars haven't been able to see. You are going to do your duty as my heir tonight, and go get ready. Do you understand me?" But Zipp was not just any pony. Her tail lashed and she puffed up the feathers of her wings, face contorting in her anger. "If Dad were here--!" All the air was sucked out of the room. Zipp's jaw snapped shut and her ears flicked back, anger melting away to shame with eyes darting away from her mother. Haven's face remained cold and stony, belying nothing of the storm that raged in her chest. "Mom, I--" "Zephyrina. Go get ready." Tone flat, barely containing fury. Without another word, Zipp moved out from behind the desk and slinked past Haven. Her head and tail were low, wings pressed tight against her flanks, all an effort to appear smaller. Haven did not move from her spot, though a trembling had settled into her withers and forelegs, until she heard the door open and close, leaving her alone. She sank to the ground, motherly mask cracking now that there was no one left to see what lay beneath. "I wish you were here, Thunder," she said to the empty air. "Maybe you could get through to her." No reply, of course. Her soul was awash in that familiar pang of loss, exacerbated by her inability connect with Zipp. She was so much like her father, and Haven simply couldn't compete with that. A sob built up in her throat, one of anger and frustration and a deep, desperate longing. And there was a flare of fear there, too. The fear that came with the lie, now laid naked by her own raw nerves: one day they would be discovered as frauds who couldn't fly, just like everyone else. And every time they flew, she prayed that it was not in her nor her daughter's life times that it would be found out. But some part of her knew that was selfish, because didn't every generation before her hope for that? Wasn't she just shuffling the blame down the line, just so she wouldn't suffer for it? The sob was swallowed down as she chased away the circling "what ifs" that would spiral out of control if she let them. There was no time for her to fall apart, not when she was on a schedule. Not when she had her roles to play before the eyes of an adoring nation. She shook out the excess energy from each leg as she stood. She took a few deep, steadying breaths. And she turned, slipping back into her familiar role, returning to the world with a picture perfect, winning smile.
TriumphView OnlineThe Queenly MaskTriumphYears passed. And the world was alive. Queen Fairweather Haven stood beneath the aurora borealis that cut across the night sky, as the wind sang its song to her. Her wings spread, tasting the shape of the air in ways they never had before with a few careful flaps. It was a wonderous thing, how the sky reached into her and filled in gaps that she never knew were missing. A light shining from within, filling her to bursting with a gentle warmth that stole her breath away. Magic seemed too inadequate a term, to describe how the open air called her home from the furthest reaches of her very soul. She sank to her haunches, keeping wings ever so slightly spread to enjoy the novelty of wind through her feathers, and she watched her daughters. They flew circles around each other, laughing and playing as they shaped the atmosphere in ways they never could have imagined. No wires, no trickery. Just youth and freedom, as it was always meant to be. The two of them came to touch down by their friends, the unicorn and two earth ponies, though one was now something else entirely. Something new, something of legend. Her horn and wings shone with light, as if that was all they were. The magic had returned, and marvels along with it. Pipp caught sight of Haven after some excited chatter with her friends, and she reared up to wave a hoof. Haven smiled back, spreading her wings to their full length in a show of triumph and pride. The unicorn caught the action, her eyes darting between Haven and her daughters, before she gave Pipp a gentle nudge. Haven couldn't hear what she was saying for distance and for all the other clamoring around them, but she could guess: "go see your mom." The two broke away from the small, ragtag group with just a few more words to them. Promises to meet up again that night, perhaps. They trotted towards her, their wings in constant motion to enjoy the new sensation flowing through them. "I'm so proud of you," Haven said as soon as they were close enough. She nuzzled her daughters with a love that burned fierce through her. That rivaled the rush of magic pulsing through her. She wrapped the both of them in a hug, one under each wing, just as she did when they were children. Together, they lay on the ground, taking joy in each other's company in one of the rare moments they were allowed. "Sorry for messing up everything," Zipp said. There was a laugh on her muzzle as she added, "The whole arresting thing, I mean. Not the stealing the crown and fixing magic thing." Haven hummed, her own smile tugging at her lips and a laugh bubbling in her chest. "Well," she said, "I suppose the magic situation makes up for it." Pipp gasped, the reality of their situation piercing through her elation. "But what are we going to do? They all know we were lying--" "One day at a time," Haven said, pulling them both closer to her. "We'll get through this. We do have publicists." She hoped. But it was not a night for speculation and what if's and possibilities, she thought. It was a night for celebration. She nuzzled each of them in turn again. "I know your father would be so proud of you both." For once, a mention of Thunder did not settle over them like a storm cloud. She wished he had been alive to see this, to see the wonderful mares his daughters had grown into and what they had managed with their new friends. But as magic flowed through her, and the sky danced with a rainbow of lights that pulsed with the heartbeat of the world, she was sure he knew, wherever he may be. And he loved them still. "I love you, Mom," Pipp whispered. "Yeah, me too," Zipp said. "My beautiful girls." They sat like that for some time. It was a picture perfect moment, if ever there was one, and below all the motherly pride a small part of her lamented that there weren't any cameras around. But that would ruin the moment, she supposed, and everyone was too caught up in the sheer joy of the moment to pay them any mind. And she supposed she was okay with that, just for now. Eventually it was Pipp who broke away from her. She wiggled out from beneath her wing, her own wings fluttering as her hooves tapped an excited little dance. "Oh my gosh I have so many ideas for videos!" She squealed, lifting off the ground with a graceful flap and clapped. "Actually flying!" Zipp followed suit, launching herself into the air after Pipp. "I can show you all kinds of tricks," she said. "If you tilt your wings--" The roll of Pipp's eyes came with an auditory moan. "Not your stupid aerodynamics." "It's not stupid! It's--" "Whatever you say!" Pipp cut in, twisting lazily in the air. "But I would love some tricks. I'll even credit you." There was a beat where they glared at each other. And then, they laughed. Whatever tension and childish argument that was building between them was swept away on the breeze of dizzying awe. Zipp turned to Haven, her smile broad and her eyes bright. "You coming, Mom?" "No," she said. "I'll join you in a bit." A pause, a laugh of her own, though it was rich with disbelief. "Go have fun with your friends." "We'll hold you to that!" Pipp somersaulted, though not as graceful as she would have liked. Her wings did not carve the wind the way they needed to as she came out of it, creating the flight equivalent of a stumble that was quickly righted. Her brow furrowed for just a moment, before it smoothed away with a shrug. It was new, they would need to learn. The two took off, and Haven watched them from below. She would join them in time, touching feather to sky and shaping the atmosphere with her own magic. But for now, she was content to be ground bound. Witnessing her daughters take flight and lay claim to their birthright. In that glorious, shining instant, nothing else mattered. Author's Note and there it is, my entry for the contest. This was supposed to have some more in between moments, with some more Pipp and King Thunder, but I decided to cut things down because I'm sometimes too ambitious for my own good.