Equii's History

Ink had been an archivist all his life. The spindly stallion had written about histories, documented the rise and fall of heroes, and the story of countless ponies. Today, however… today he sat nervously. He'd received a summons, a call to put history to rights and to document the true history of the land of Equestria.

Not the central state, or the border fiefdoms of The Crystal Plane or the deep forests of the Zebra. No, no, today he sat, quill in hand at a writing table, in the presence of something far bolder. The room wasn't complex, a simple writing chamber in the King’s palace that Canterlot was built around.

Stone walls adorned with art depicting events he did not know, a simple fireplace, a few plush chairs dotted around. None of that truly drew his attention truthfully. Not today.

Standing by the fireplace, basked in orange light, stood a figure. Near twice Ink’s height, and near twice his sheer girth, the mighty figure stood with hands clasped behind his back, piercing orange eyes staring into the fire, alight with an inner hue somehow brighter than the flames.

The hulking figure was adorned in a white and gold dress uniform, the kind you would see generals or leaders of old armies wear, when addressing their troops, or foreign dignitaries. His square jaw was cut with a perfectly trimmed beard of fiery reds and oranges, contrasting clear against his perfect white pelt and mixing into the flowing flame that was his mane.

King Solaris was an imposing figure. Despite standing still, upright, bold and stiff, staring at those flames, idle. He was... well, like the sun. Stationary to the casual observer, yet coiled, barely contained. A single lash to obliterate half the world with but a glare. Ink was unsure if the warm heat on that side of the room was from the fire, or the King himself.

Ink shook his head, prying his eyes from the King to look across the room to one of the couches, where sat the other ruling power of their world. Lunaris, the Star Prince himself. The two cut a strange image in the room; Solaris basked the room in heat and power, Lunaris seemed to drain it all away, cool, chill and calm dominating the air around him.

He sat, lounging almost, in one of the armchairs. The Prince was as opposed to his brother as one would expect from the avatars of night and day, his pelt a deep dark blue-grey, face shaved clean. Like his brother, he wore a uniform, deep blue trimmed in white, with buttons on the shoulders and a chain from one of the chest buttons connecting to, what Ink assumed was, a fobwatch in his pocket.

His mane was... oddly mesmerizing. Nearly white around his head, yet fading to the deep onyx of night towards the end and a beautiful star-filled blue between the two, shifting and swirling about itself. Never stationary, never calm. At times, it was like he was enshrouded in space itself.

The Prince peered at Ink, his slitted eyes narrowing as he focussed. Lunaris swirled a deep dark fluid in a small glass, a deep red wine from all the archivist could tell.

"You've no idea why we called upon you, do you, Archivist?" asked Lunaris, watching Ink clutching at his quill.

Truthfully, he didn't, but he'd been sat at a writing desk, and had prepared to take diction regardless. Potentially a dangerous assumption. He felt rather self conscious, as he was far out of his comfort zone sharing a room with these two.

Lunaris must have noticed his nerves, because he smiled, a soft gesture, but it put the pointed barbs of his unnatural fangs on display, glinting against the dark of his fur. "Be at peace book-keeper, you've predicted our purpose well. You are here to take note," he said, trying to reassure the nervous author as he peered at the writing supplies Ink had pulled out without prompting.

"You are here..." he began, sitting up and taking a soft sip of his drink. As he opened his mouth to speak again, Solaris turned, those burning bright eyes fixing on Ink, causing his concerns to spike again.

"What my dramatic brother is trying to say. Is that you are here to write the tale of our history. From the fall of the Fae, to the modern day, every event, the fall, the betrayals, and the victories. We have seen many who claim to understand our history, yet seen none that have had the simple nerve to ask the two who were around for it all," he explained, voice far deeper than his brother’s, like the rumble of stone on stone, each syllable seeming to echo around the room.

Lunaris sighed, sitting forward as he drank the last of his beverage, before setting the empty glass aside. "That we might correct these false histories and enlighten the general populace, this saga is to be printed at the expense of the treasury, and be available at no cost to any who ask it." Lunaris added, flicking his head to somehow 'correct' the unruly nebula of a mane he sported, which had started to drift across one of his eyes.

"The histories we have are wrong? Have the written histories we already have deviated so far from the truth?" Ink asked softly, slightly dumbfounded that some of the things he knew, might not be correct at all. "Large parts of it, entirely incorrect, and there is but conjecture as to the origin of myself and my brother." Solaris said simply, turning back to the fire after shooting a brief look at the Star Prince.

Lunaris relaxed back in his seat, one leg folded over the other while he stretched his wings out. The sheer wingspan of the darkened feathers almost crossed the room, the inside of his wings speckled with shifting stars and blue hues.

Ink was transfixed for a brief moment before the prince drew them back in, the simple gesture but a stretch to him, and a display of otherworldly beauty to the archivist. "Perhaps that is where we should start... the beginning. The fall of the old world, and the rise of the Alicorn, the birth of our magic." Lunaris said, which elicited a soft nod from Solaris. "Indeed. Take heed archivist, and listen well, for I am not given to repeating myself. Should you need rest, request it and you may retire for a time. Let us get this done right, not swiftly." The king said. Before taking a soft, deep breath, and beginning to recall the tale of his birth, the fall of the old world... the time before.