Birthright

Ever since the moon's disappearance in the night skies over the Iweriu confederation eight years ago, dreams had become uncommon for its inhabitants. Without the silent guardian watching over the night, the darkness was long, cold, and dangerous for all.

But perhaps something was different, that particular night, as a streaking star of silver arcs far above the sleeping ponies. Because rather than the deep, dreamless slumber that most were accustomed to, ponies- thousand, millions even- found themselves lost in the otherworld of their unconscious minds.

Even Saoirse Starshot, so thoroughly entangled within the velvety embrace of an unusually comfortable rest, finds herself drawn into a world of unwitting fantasy.

The clatter of hooves echoing on stone resounds through the narrow alleyways as Saoirse gallops across the rough cobblestone, a simultaneous feeling of dread and sheer exhilaration bursting through her veins. She can hear her pursuers; attack dogs barking, whistles sounding, engines rumbling.

There was no time to look back, now. It was do or die for her, as she swerves hard into another alleyway. She might not be able to outrun everything pursuing her, but if she could just get lost in the city…

She’d seen the city so very many times, and yet only a couple times been able to step hoof in it. And now it was hers for the rest of her life… However short that life might end up being.

Despite the circumstance, despite the pounding in her heart or the racing of her breath, Saoirse finds herself grinning as she gallops between the dingy buildings. Come what may, live or die, she was a free mare now.

A shout echoes from behind her, and she spares a mere glance back to see a guardspony who had just turned the corner. They’ve found me! That thought alone is enough to push herself even more, her body straining to the uttermost limits of its abilities, desperately trying to keep moving, all but blind to the aching limbs and burning in her lungs.

Another swerve into an alley… And with a sinking feeling, Saoirse knows it's over now. It's a dead end, a sheer drop off a cliff face the only route open to her. Somehow, diving through that labyrinthian tangle of backstreets and corridors had led her here, to the edge of the palace district, overlooking the city below.

Barking. There was barking behind her; the dogs were hot on her hooves, she was out of time. She didn’t slow down, even knowing that certain death was all that awaited. A thundercrack and bullet whizzing past her wiped any doubt in her mind. If death was to be hers, she would die free. She would die on her own terms, not theirs.

Time seemed to hang still as she bounded onto the rocky outcropping. She was moving far too fast to even try to move around now, even should she have the intention to do so. She hears the whistle of guards, calling the dogs to stop, not wanting them to plummet to their deaths along with her.

Her hindlimbs meet the very rim of the stone, and with one last herculean surge of strength, she leaps forwards, closing her eyes as she feels the wind in her fur. She savors it, savors every feeling before she could plummet to her death. The way her stomach flips in her abdomen, the wind caught in her fur.

The feelings of fast-approaching death. The feelings of freedom.

The moment hangs in the air for what seems like an eternity, until finally, Saoirse realizes the dreaded impact wasn’t coming. Has she already died? Was this…

The wind was still in her fur. If anything it was stronger. She can hear gasps of amazement, of shock, from the guards. She’s not dead. Slowly, unsurely, she opens her eyes, only to feel a gasp of her own echo out.

Wings-broad, pearl white wings-stretch far in either direction. Tears begin collecting in her eyes, as she looks down and sees the city passing below her as she soars across the heavens. She didn’t know how, or why, but here she was… A pegasus.

Freedom… This is true freedom. The kind not even the commonfolk below her had. Freedom not just from her aristocratic masters, but from the very constraints of gravity. She could go anywhere, do anything. A shouting whoop of victory, a spiral turn, and Saoirse shot off into the distance, far away from where anypony could catch her.

She was free.

“Can you reach it?” one of the fillies holding Ceridwen up asks, as the colt pokes the tip of his tongue from his mouth as he strains to reach the target of his attentions.

“Almost! I’m trying, just a little… further!” The colt strains, the talons on the end of his forelimb reaching forth. Unsteadily, he pushes himself up from the shoulders of the two fillies supporting his weight, the trio wobbling uncertainly as he finally manages to get two of his talons around the jar.

“Got it!” Ceridwen calls out triumphantly; and just in time, too, as the precarious pony pyramid promptly plummets to the ground, the gryph colt barely able to secure his prize in his talons to drag it from the top of the drawer out of reach where it had been hidden from the royal twins. Falling backwards, Ceridwen lands squarely on his spine with a groan, the jar of cookies resting directly on his chest.

Saoirse next to him is the first to recover from the fall, shaking her head as she bounds up to the aristocratic blank. “You got it!” The servant filly cheers, excitedly, as she reaches to unscrew the lid of the jar.

“Not here!” Seren protests, rolling over back onto her front and standing before shaking herself off. “Mom will be back any minute, we need to go where she won’t see us! And get that cabinet closed, or she’ll see the jar is missing.”

Ceridwen nods, not needing any further prompting. He didn’t need the help of the pony pyramid to close the cabinet, he could just barely reach the lower lip to swing it shut. Without further ado, the trio of mischievous colts and fillies race away and up the stairs even as they hear the approaching of some older pony, likely come to investigate the crashing sound of the trio falling over. Only once they were safely in Seren’s room with the door shut behind them, did the group take pause. Triumphantly, Saoirse wraps the jar up in her forelimbs and tries to open the tightly sealed lid, only for it to fail to budge no matter how she strained.

“Here, let me try.” Ceridwen reaches for the jar, wrapping his talons around the lid and turning. It was difficult, but the gryph’s talons are able to get better traction than the servants hooves, and he is able to remove the lid with a pop, enabling the trio to all grab cookies for themselves with smug, self-satisfied expressions.

“Seren? Are you in there?” A voice calls out from beyond the door, and the trio all freeze as the rapping of talons on wood sounds.

“Quick! Take the cookies and go hide!” Seren hisses out to Saoirse, bolting up to her hooves. “Um, yes! I’m coming, just give me a second!” Seren calls out, while Saoirse scrambles up to her own hooves and slings the cookie jar under one forelimb. Ceridwen’s eyes dart this way and that, not knowing if he should hide himself or not; was it suspicious for him to be here? Probably not, it wasn’t like it was unusual for him to be hanging out with his sister in her room.

Seren props the door open, just barely enough to be able to see what's outside, cramming herself into the narrow opening just enough to be seen by the source of the voice, keeping the rest of the room out of sight. “Uh, yes mother?”

Ceridwen breathes a short sigh of relief at that; Just their mother, not Evander. That would have been a real problem. Cantering up, he squeezes himself into the frame along with Seren.

He is greeted with the caring face of his mother, Beira Snowgleam, peering with a modest amount of curiosity inside. She was still young, maybe twenty-two years old; If she had been a commoner it wouldn't be unusual if she was getting married around this age, rather than already looking after two foals.

“Oh, good, you’re already here, Ceri.” Beira smiles warmly, while Ceridwen does his best to avoid looking nervous to not give up the jig. “It seems we’re going to have guests tonight. Moonblood and Stargazer from the Iutru family, they’re here to discuss a partnership in control of a gold mine on the border that recently opened, as the next in line you should be there.” Beira nods at Seren. “You too, Ceri.”

Ceridwen groans and winces. Oh, great, official business. Just his luck. He clucks his beak in discontent and makes a thoroughly disgusted face. That seems to amuse Beira somehow, since a faint smile finds her face in response. “Oh, honey, I know you don’t care for these things, but I promise it won’t take long. You’re just there to introduce yourselves, then you can head back. But before they get here, you two need to wash up and look your best. Seren?” Beira’s gaze meets Seren’s, who needs no further explanation of what was being asked.

With a faux serious expression and a bit of a daredevil look in her eyes, Seren promptly salutes the mare. “Ay ay, Mom! You know I’ll make sure he looks spick and span.”

Ceridwen rolls his eyes. Ah well, at least it would be Seren fussing over him rather than some servant. Before he can even properly react, Seren swings the door open and takes Ceridwen’s talons in her own, dragging him along on her way to the baths.

The next few minutes were hazy for Ceridwen, as if his consciousness had just leapt forwards in time. The next thing he knew, he was in the tub with Seren, the filly’s taloned hooves meticulously shampooing his mane, while he sat there stoically with his eyes shut. His distaste for the reason they were here notwithstanding, he wasn’t particularly upset. Bathtime was fun!

Feeling that Seren was done just from the particular way she removed her talons from his mane that last time, Ceridwen dunks his head into the water, swishing it around to make sure the shampoo was fully excised from his mane, before whipping his mane out of the water, sopping wet and hanging down over his face. Casting a half grin Seren’s way, he tilts his head and lifts a hoof, as though posing for a photoshoot.

“So, how do I look?” He asks, jokingly. Seren raises a talon to her beak as she tries to stifle a laugh.

“Pfft, like you’re wearing a mop on your head.” The filly bumps into him, and he promptly takes advantage by throwing his own forelimbs around her, trapping her close to him and rubbing his soaking wet mane and the side of his face up against hers affectionately.

“Now you, too, shall be afflicted by the curse of the mop-head!” Ceridwen calls out, jovially.

“Noooo…!” Seren whines out melodramatically, though despite that cry, she is smiling playfully and reciprocates with a hug in return, even if less tightly. “I am accursed! Damned! Lost!” Seren wails, before the two gryph twins fade into silence for a moment, Ceridwen closing his eyes and just basking in the warmth of both the water and Seren’s feathers.

Then, that moment is up, and Ceridwen releases Seren, scooting back to the edge of the bathtub. “Alright you, now turn around so I can get your mane too.”

But even as he takes the shampoo in talon and squirts it out onto one hoof, the world around him fades away into muddied incomprehension, as the so-called colt’s consciousness is called back to the stallion he truly is.

Seren stares down her opponent across from her, spellblade and hoofclaws at the ready. The smell of smoke hangs thick in the air, distant sounds of battle reaching her, crumbling ruins and stonework surrounding her on all sides, but all of her attention is on the dastard across from her. He looks… Vaguely familiar, to her. A pegasus gryph, like her brother, but it was definitely not her brother. It didn’t matter. She knew she had to fight.

A cruel sneer finds her opponent's face, along with a glint of savage interest in his eye, before he leaps for her, both wings flapping up before swiping down. She dives forward, avoiding the strike and retaliating with a telekinetic swing of her spellblade, wheeling around in place with just enough time to lunge with her hoofclaw before the pegasus had time to follow up.

Both attacks are futile, the spinning wingblades of the pegasus dashing both attacks astray, the pegasus themself moving freely not even slowed down by the attacks. Before she can recover, the hoof of the pegasus hammers into her stomach, and she feels her body go partially limp as the breath is knocked from her lungs.

In desperation, she charges and fires a wide spread of five magical beams from her horn, four of which go far astray. The last simply glances off the stallions helmet before he pecks at her face with savage force.

She can hear her cry of pain, though she was numb to what was going on, as the thin skin under her feathers is ripped asunder by her foe, two taloned claws grasping her shoulders. Unable to move fast enough to resist, she finds herself lifted into the air as the pegasus flaps his wings, before slamming her down into the ground back-first.

The groan of pain that emits is far quieter than the last, despite the agony being far worse; her lungs felt sealed shut, and she couldn't get enough breath to make any louder sound. She looks up defiantly at her assailant, expecting the coup de grace that was surely coming.

What she sees instead is far worse. The stallion was looking her up and down with unrestrained prurient interest, his tongue licking the outside of his beak with anticipation. A cold feeling of absolute dread falls over Seren as she freezes up.

“N-no…” She just barely manages to get enough breath inside of herself to whimper out. “Y-you can’t.”

Her desperate plea was entirely unheard, as the stallion pins her hindlegs out to the sides. Sickened, Seren shuts her eyes tightly, not wanting to see what was coming.

And for that reason, she is caught entirely by surprise when instead of the expected contact, she is hit with a loud woosh of air and the weight on her limbs vanishes instantly as a hefty impact sounds out above her. Opening up her eyes in disbelief, silhouetted against the firelight from the burning buildings all around, is the form of a pony she would recognize anywhere.

“What do you think you’re doing, to MY SISTER?” Seren blinks upon hearing those words. Something was off… Hadn’t she heard those same words in that same voice before?

“Who do you think you are? Nopony gets between me and my prize!” The scene plays out like an echo, as the other stallion growls and lunges at Ceridwen, only for the younger pegasus to deftly slant his body sideways to avoid the hoofclaw , his wing sliding under the other ponies forelimb, the dodge having not just avoided his attack but also placing him inside his opponents guard.

Schlnk. A sound equal parts horrible and delightful echoes across the surroundings, as the metallic edge strapped tightly to Ceridwen’s wing lunges forward, slashing open the other stallion from the pit of his forelimb up across his sternum. There is a gasp of shock and pain, moments before Ceridwen’s beak slams down into his forehead with a resounding crack.

The force of the impact stuns the other stallion as he stumbles back staggering on his hooves. He wouldn’t get a chance to recover, as Ceridwen’s hoof collides with the side of his head and both forelimbs wrap tightly around the neck of Seren’s attacker.

For a few terrible, drawn out moments, the other stallion flails, becoming increasingly weaker as the grip around his neck is tightened further and further, suffocating agonizingly slowly as his eyes bulge from their sockets. Ceridwen’s expression reveals no mercy or remorse, only cold-blooded hatred and satisfaction as the life finally leaves the other stallion, and he is unceremoniously dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

And just as breath leaves him, Seren’s returns to her, and she is able to struggle up to her hooves, retrieve her spellblade with some quick telekinesis, and join Ceridwen’s side over the body.

“Hawky… You came.” The edges of Seren’s mouth twitch upwards.

Ceridwen’s gaze tilts up to gaze at her instead of the now-dead nemesis at his hooves, which he promptly kicks away. His gaze softens as he does, turning gentle, as he protectively wraps his forelimbs around Seren’s shoulders. “Of course I did, sis. When have I ever left you in a lurch?”

Seren lowers her face in mild embarrassment, blushing lightly. With just another moment, she takes a deep breath. “There’s still fighting. We’d better get back to it.”

Ceridwen nods, turns, and points southwards. “They’ve got fliers in the air, I could probably get past them but I wouldn't be able to while carrying you. When I was in the air though, I saw the wall had collapsed on that side. Once we get to the cliffside, I should be able to slow our fall enough for a safe descent.”

Seren nods, trying to keep her mind focused on the task at hoof even after her ordeal. “Right. Lead the way… Hawky.” That last sound felt reassuring, somehow. No matter how dire the circumstances, she couldn't help but be comforted, knowing her brother always had her back.

“Come on bro, you’re going to be late!” Moonshadow blinks his eyes open in confusion at the voice-so familiar and yet so alien at the same time, feeling the split hooves of another hyperaustralan shaking him. Eyes fluttering open, he finds himself standing in a brightly lit room, three other ponies staring at him expectantly. Two adults, maybe thirty years old, and one around his age if a bit older.

…Mom? Dad? Moonshadow feels a tinge of sorrow at the thought though he isn’t sure why, as the other pony present tugs on his hoof. “It’s your birthday today! C’mon, don’t you remember?”

His birthday… Wasn't there something with that..? He can’t quite put a hoof on it, but something doesn’t seem right. He didn’t know when his birthday was. But clearly his family here does, as he follows them in a haze, into another room of their home. ‘Their home’, a farm near the foothills of the mountains. So familiar, and yet so foreign at the same time; had he been here before?

Balloons and streamers fill the room, a mouth watering cake on display right in front. Moonshadow had never seen a cake before, and so the imagery is somewhat confused, but it doesn’t matter; blinded by hunger, he steps forward. Hunger. Why is he so hungry? Looking down, he sees his limbs, frail and thin, barely supporting his weight.

“Come on Shadow, don’t you like it?” He hears the maternal voice of his mother ask, the epitome of maternal care. But when he looks up to see her, there is nothing to be seen. Staring directly into her eyes, somehow his brain can’t resolve her features, can’t put a face to the voice, couldn’t say what color her eyes were or the style of her mane. Shrieking, Moonshadow backs up, the familiar pang of nauseating hunger leaving him staggering on his feet while his family stare at him in confusion.

“Is something wrong, Shadow?” The three ponies all ask in unison. Moonshadow looks back and forth, from his mother to his father, both featureless and empty-faced, as he backpedals out of the room.

“Wh-Who are you?” He asks finally, even as his instincts shout out against it. He wanted to be here, to be accepted by them, to have his family near him. And yet he can’t remember their names, can’t place an image to their faces. Something is wrong; something is very, very wrong.

“Don’t you remember us?” Only the last pony… His older sister… asks now, stepping towards him until they were almost muzzle to muzzle. “We’re your family.”

You left me. Unbidden, that thought comes to Moonshadow’s mind, and his mouth slowly, hesitantly opens to speak. If he said these words, he knew they would be gone. He would be all alone again. Silently, he wills himself to stay quiet, to just pretend and lean into the unfamiliar comforts. But almost as if compelled the words slip from his grasp.

“I-I don’t have a family.” And just like that, the formless, faceless shapes of unfamiliar ponies dissipate, like smoke, along with the rest of the house, leaving only the trees and aching cold.

He is alone, the forest is his home.

And just as always, his only companion is his own gnawing hunger.