The Prince, The Smith, and The Lightning

The Lightning

The bartender hadn’t noticed them at first; they were just another pair of questionably sober inhabitants of the tavern’s bar. As time had passed and the business of work had died away, she had found time to listen surreptitiously- to glance a glimpse of the stories told with ill-concealed fire, fervor, and terror. Still they had not realized her eavesdropping, and she was fully curious to the conclusions they would come to about Lightning Dust, the local star fallen from such grace.

She had heard things about Lightning Dust, could still hear them whispering in shadow and gloom, concealing themselves from all others out of suspicion and want of safety- except from her. She was just a bartender, a barmaid really, and she never talked. What could she know? She heard them now, talking amongst themselves.

I heard she was reckless. Where does she come from? She doesn’t seem to want any sympathy. Why is she even here if she wants to be alone? She was always so driven on the training clouds. Hadn’t she always been a little rude? Not really, just a bit insensitive. I think she got demoted. What for? I heard she got kicked out. I think it was for reckless endangerment, but I’m not sure. She can’t possibly have cared for Rainbow Dash, especially after what she did to her friends! I don’t know about that, you didn’t see them. It could have been anything. You could be anything, what do you think it was?

So many words, and it was all so much noise, and she could not stand to listen to them any longer. She was much more interested in the smudgy black and the silver ones’ discussion- although it was quickly becoming an argument, they had long before cut straight to the heart of the matter.

“She’s no prince.” Blue was angrily asserting. “Ah don’t think that makes her any better, but her anger and passions could have only come from a fiery source. Cold greed makes for cold fury.”

“It was greed and aspiration. She had no love; she only ever used those that called her friend for her own ends.” Tarnish was no less certain, and he was just as vehement in his analysis- though they both were quiet. “Anger may come in many forms, and all it takes is a little fury for it to ignite out of ice.”

They had been arguing and telling tales for hours now; they had reached the highest paragons of their logic; their processes had played out to the end and they were set and certain in them, but still she suspected. No doubt Lightning Dust had done atrocious things, but perhaps there still remained a story to be told… A middle way there was for certain, the only challenge remained in finding it- and finding if it was the way the Lightning had struck.

Perhaps fate can arrange for that story to be told.

The chilling and arduous discourse refused to echo in the air, passing as quickly as it was spoken all in vain about the lightning. She had heard many things about the bolts of thunder that ravaged the sky over the years. Some say that the thunder fell from the clouds, and some postulated that it rose from the earth from electrical friction, and she knew that, sometimes, both were correct.

Other times, it must meet in the middle- for does it not both rise and fall simultaneously at times, as strange as it might be? Could it perhaps start in the middle? She found it an alien sensation that they could be so certain in the absolute dimensions that they had assumed. For no doubt, Tarnish was growing colder in his argument, and Blue was surely heating up.

Perhaps fate would find a compromise, but she would have to be that fate, she realized with a sigh of the mind. These two would find no peace in each other, so her intervention would be a necessity. She would be subtle, though, there was no need to involve herself- while she quite enjoyed listening, she found her own thoughts’ expressions often seemed lacking compared to others. All that remained was for her to arrange the situation.

Unfortunately, that would not be an easy thing to arrange quietly. She had three very volatile, intoxicated (although Lightning Dust had not touched her lonesome drink in all the breadth of time) and unpredictable ponies on her hooves. She would have to tread lightly and carefully in the blaze and chill; directing the lightning without a rod to attract it would be impossible. A plan of action would have to be composed, and an unnatural sense of haste came with it.

“You’re not even listening.” Blue growled, insinuating much as his posture became aggressive. “She could not have been so friendly to some and not have some feeling for others, despite how her drive destroyed her.”

“Just because deceit is rare does not mean she couldn’t have possessed it. And you do not understand what I am saying. She never loved them, any of them. She only used them as a means to a greater end, and all her friendly gestures were only ever gestures to her.”

“She let her drive get the better of her! You’re determined to plaster your damned nihilistic thinkings on her.”

“And you are determined to paint her as the loveable epic hero with the tragic flaw.”

The bartender thought it sad that both of them should be right.

It continued for a while, with she at the bar puzzling unobserved for a solution that would not draw attention to herself. If they were going to come to a conclusion that they could agree upon, then they would have to come upon it themselves- and together. Those naturally inclined to argue often refused solutions that they have not made their mark on, even on reasonable solutions.

Their tempo increased, the volume and potency of their dissonance only increased, it was louder- louder! Heavier and grinding! Full of hatred now, no more resemblance of the slightest of a civil discussion could be found; at last she could take it no longer and a quiet voice stopped them cold-

“Why don’t you ask her?”

The two turned to look at her, surprised, incredulous and offended at the diminutive interruption, and then Tarnish voiced his mind.

“Why would we?”

The bartender said nothing; she knew she could not fight them; she turned and left the depressed reality behind. She would climb to the roof to seek remorseful solitude, but they could not know that. They could not divine The Lightning’s pains, much less hers.

For a while, Tarnish and Blue said nothing, but wondered confusedly and heatedly about the mostly-silent bartender, until with finality and focus they turned again to the battle that had been raging.

The Smith was in his wrath again, beating at the immutable metal with fury, his sympathy for The Lightning long perverted past any recognizable form- he had quite forgotten about her entirely. Just as he had fallen, so too had The Prince, who had never cared about The Lightning- she was only ever a tool for him. And they were both so furiously and coldly fixated that neither of them noticed Lightning Dust fly away quicker than a flash, gone without a trace and with such great haste that she nearly blew away those in her path.

The Lightning had flashed away; it was really only there for a moment and only a moment’s chance they had had; fate passed them by and by their own choosing it had gone out of sight and perception; its inner intricacies and wonders were forever a mystery as The Prince and The Smith succumbed to bitterness and turmoil, sickening hatred and chaotic war. Lightning Dust had torn out of the tavern in an eye’s shutting, and neither bothered enough to notice whether she ascended into storm or crashed into the ground or flew off into the sunset. What had happened after that neither Tarnish nor Blue could tell you. Only fate knew.

… And she kept her silence.