Chap 1. The morning before everything
You open your eyes, the crust that had built up overnight, sticking them together for a second before you rub them with your fingers. You had stayed up late last night because it was your sister's 7th birthday. You and your sisters were considered royalty by the majority of the ponies and creatures that your parents ruled over. As a result, the whole city would erupt in celebration for each of your birthdays, or so your parents had told you.
You sat up in bed, swung your legs over the edge, and slid your feet into your favorite slippers. In a groggy haze, you washed up and got dressed for the day. This routine had been metaphorically beaten in to you by Soft Touch, you and your sisters nanny. Coming out of the bathroom, you saw the three ponies in question. Little Luna was on Soft Touch's back, and Celestia stood there with a smile stretching from ear to ear. Before you could react, Celestia jumped towards you, flapping her not yet fully developed wings to cover the distance. She knocked you over onto the floor and sat up on your stomach, still smiling. In a subdued but excited tone, you asked her, so, how was it. Unwittingly opening the floodgates.
Now you were sitting at the dining room table, and Celestia hadn't stopped talking for a second since then. Two nights before her birthday, your parents had sat you two down in the living room and informed you that on Celestia's birthday, they would be taking her to the astral plane. After a brief discussion about what it entailed, they sent you to bed. For the past hour, Celestia had been describing every detail of every minute of her experience there. According to her, it was like walking on nothing while walking on something, and she could only feel things through her horn and a few other places on her body. You had tuned her out after a while, as you often did when she went off on a tangent like this. The education your parents insisted upon meant you were often tired by the end of the day, and you couldn't be bothered to listen to her. As previously mentioned, you were now sitting at the dining table when you heard a sudden bang and the sound of two giant doors opening. You turned your head to greet your parents.
The room you were in had a square table with five cushions surrounding it. Two cushions were next to each other where you and your sister sat, and two others were on opposite sides of the table, and finally, there was a tiny little cushion on the fourth side that was rarely used as usually, the moment your parents walked in, Luna would be lifted from Soft Touch's back and placed on one of their backs, and then fed by them when they reached the table.
"So," your father asks, "are you excited for training?" Your mind goes blank for a second, and then you remember. Your eyes widen in surprise and excitement as you had completely forgotten about what was happening today. Your father, being the kind soul he is, thought you might feel left out since only your parents and Celestia had gone to the astral plane. To make it up to you, he had convinced your mother to let you do something you had begged for since you were 7, years old. TO. JOIN. THE. Guard. Admittedly, you weren't actually joining it, but your father had decided to start training you in combat, much to your mother's dismay. You were surprised by this, as your mother was the more violent one when it came to combat between the two of them.
In an attempt to lessen the time between now and when your father and you got on your way to the training grounds, you shovelled everything on your plate down your throat as fast as you could, and then looked at your father with an excited glint in your eyes. Your father chuckled, his deep masculine voice reverberating throughout the room, OK OK. Foust, is it OK if we leave the table a bit early, he said to your mother, she looked over to you and made eye contact, Luna babbling in her forelegs. Promise me you won't get hurt, she says in that way that all mothers do when they know their child is about to go and do something potentially dangerous and they can’t stop them. yes mother, I promise, you say in the way that all children do in response to that request. Your mother keeps eye contact for about two more seconds before releasing a sigh, looking over to your father and saying, very well, but you know what will happen if that promise isn't kept, and your son won't be having anything happen to him either way. With a gulp your father nods, come on then he says, as he gets up from his cushion.
Author's Note
Sorry to anyone who had to read the previous chapter 1, this won't be the usual chapter length but I just wanted to get this one out to replace the previous one. Again Please tell me any significant improvements I can make on my writing
A three-year-old you, sits atop your adoptive father's back, traversing, a long and dim corridor, towering stone columns lining the path, their height seemingly infinite as darkness conceals there meeting point with the ceiling.
Gradually, a faint glimmer of light emerges in the distance, growing larger until an open doorway comes into view. Your father nudges you gently, signaling for you to dismount from his back. He passes through the doorway, and you follow closely behind.
As your eyes adjust to the dazzling brightness, you spot your mother. She appears weary, her straight ruby hair cascading around her neck, partially concealing her snow-white fur. You yearn to run towards her, but your father restrains you. His grey aura enveloping you as he leans down, cautioning that they have been through a lot and do not need any... excitement at the moment. Confused, you glance back and notice a slight movement where your mother cradles something in her four legs.
Upon receiving a nod from your father, whose stoic presence emanates comfort, you approach. Reaching the side of the bed, you struggle to climb up, and eventually, your father lends a helping hoof, gently pushing you forward with his head.
As you crawl across the bed, a soft murmur emanates from the vicinity of your mother. Although her lips remain still, she notices your perplexed look, offering a gentle smile. She lowers her head, using her mouth to unveil the object concealed by a white towel. As the fabric falls away, a small snow-white wing is revealed. Your gaze ascends to behold a tiny body, horn, eyelids, and finally, a muzzle. Overwhelmed, you freeze in that moment. Then, her eyes flutter open, locking with yours. A surge of indescribable emotion courses through you, causing your hands to clench tightly, turning white. The feeling subsides briefly before resurging, triggering an intense protectiveness that compels you to disregard your father's wishes. You hasten forward until your hand and face make contact with her velvety coat. In the periphery of your consciousness, you notice your knee touching your mother's tensed leg, which feels as solid as a rock. Yet, nothing could ever divert your attention from those captivating magenta eyes.
