It had finally come. December the thirteenth by Equestrian reckoning, some time towards the end of 1504 by human reckoning. Their years were a bit offset; it would end on the winter solstice, but that was only ten days before Equestrian new year anyway. But this day was important to Tempest no matter what it was called: today, she was sixteen. And by human standards, that meant she had reached adulthood.

“Too bad I don't feel like it...” muttered Tempest to herself, looking out the rain-splattered window. Winter came to Ar-Athazîon late in October, and by halfway through November it had set in with full force. When it wasn't foggy, it was raining, though not nearly as badly as it had in Nikadîon. But at least the cold wasn't an issue, her winter coat had grown in and was doing its job quite well. Tempest did not envy the humans who couldn't grow extra fluff and fur as soon as the days shortened; they had to wrap up in cloths and shiver in the chill.

There was a knock at door that led to the washroom linking her room with the next one over. “Come in, Snowy.” she said.

“Good morning, Tempest!” Snowy greeted her with a cheerful smile. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” asked Tempest.

“Did you forget it's your birthday?”

“No, I just don't know what I have to be ready for. Are we going somewhere?”

Snowy sighed. “Don't be dense, Tempest. You know what I mean.”

“I guess.” But she really didn't know what Snowy meant... “How busy will you be today?”

“Not busy at all. The Emperor has released me from today's lesson, so I'm free to stay with you!” said Snowy. That made Tempest's hopes for the day much better.

“Welcome news.” Tempest said, looking out the window again. “So... Any ideas?”

“It's your birthday, Tempest. You were supposed to think of something to do.”

“Hey, it was my idea to take you with to see the dragon! You owe me.”

“Fine.” Snowy rolled her eyes, and made a show of pouting. Neither said anything for a few moments, Tempest let her friend think in peace.

What is there to do anyway? wondered Tempest. We're half prisoners here already. We can't go into the city, the palace only really has the library and gardens open to us...

“Well,” Snowy began, “the plan was for supper with Streaming, me, and you. The usual, really, just with some more festive food. I thought we'd do whatever it is you do when I'm busy.”

“You mean lay around and read?” asked Tempest. “Or walk in the rain aimlessly? It's been pretty boring without you around, to be honest. No training anymore, no lessons either. If you weren't so busy so often, it'd be bearable, but...” She shrugged. “That's not been the case.”

“I really wish I wasn't.” said Snowy. “It’s for the best, in the long run. We've got about four months left here, and at least one of us needs to know how to run a kingdom.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah... Don't remind me of that.” Tempest wished to enjoy her last days in Sarathûl, not spend them trembling in fear of what was coming. And she did tremble, in the long, dark nights when she couldn't sleep. Her dreams were often filled with fire, just as they had been before Sidâl gave her that crystal all those months ago. “But I'm glad you've got the day off, Snowy. Let's not put it to waste.”

They ended up just wandering around the palace, chatting idly about this and that. For a while, it seemed as if they'd returned to more carefree days back in Athair; though with a far more talkative and far less temperamental Snowy. That was one thing Tempest didn't miss. She was happy that Snowy had overcome her constant stammering and most of her former timidness, not to mention her tendency to be upset by the slightest sharp word. Though she still shied away from those she didn't know, it was better than outright hiding from them. At least someone in these tumultuous few months had been changed for the better! But all illusions ended, and they came to the subject of Hemlock Farpeak.

“Stream and I usually take your sister and that unicorn of hers up for an hour of fresh air every other day. Would you like to come along?” asked Tempest. Snowy froze in place.

“Come along?” she echoed. “I... I don't know, Tempest. I wish I could explain it to you...”

“You don't have to. I've already heard Hemlock's side of things.” That surprised Snowy; she blinked and leaned back a little.

“You... what?”

“I had Hemlock tell me what happened between you two.” Tempest said, trying to sound as firm as she could. “She's not too proud of what she did, you know. Started crying halfway through our talk, sniffling about how sorry she was. I didn't feel too proud either, about making her remember all that...” She tried to laugh, but it fell flat. “But really, Snowy. Give her another chance. She's nothing at all like that evil mother of yours, from what I've heard of her. And you deserve more friends in this world than just a clueless exile like me.”

Snowy was silent for a few minutes, almost looking like she was going to cry, which was the last thing Tempest wanted. But finally, Snowy straightened up, and inhaled deeply. “Alright, I'll come with. But only because I trust you more than anyone else in the world.”

“Thank you, Snowy. You won't regret it.”

“If she comes near me, hit her, alright?”

“If it makes you feel better...”

So that was how Tempest spent the rest of her morning with Streaming and Snowy, keeping an eye on the pegasus and unicorn from Equestria. Hemlock's breath caught in her throat at the sight of Snowy, and she spent the entire time above ground trying to avoid looking at her sister. Her unicorn tried to cheer her up, but to no avail. “See how guilty she looks?” Tempest asked quietly.

“I see.” said Snowy, coolly. “And I dare say she ought to.”

“Lady Snowy,” said Streaming, “your sister has been very torn up over this for a very long time. Just as much as you. Please show some consideration.”

“Consideration-!” Snowy stopped herself before she said more, taking a moment to calm herself. “You said she was sorry, didn't she, Tempest?”

“Yes. It was rather awkward, what with the tears and all...”

Snowy frowned, and her ears drooped. “I... It won't be easy, putting all that to rest. It's not something you can just pretend never happened.”

“What was she supposed to do, Lady Snowy?” Streaming asked, ears tilting back. “She was what, six years old, seven? Could you have stood up to that wretched Silver Farpeak at that age? Could you even now? Your sister never wanted any part in that, but I hardly think she had much of a choice.” Now it was Snowy who looked guilty, and Streaming softened her tone and manner. “We're not asking you to pretend nothing ever happened, we're asking you to make peace with her. It would do you both good.”

“Why should you care, though?” Snowy wondered.

“Because you're to serve as adviser to my Queen, and I would not have her led astray on account of your own personal issues.” said Streaming. Tempest tried to suppress an inappropriately-timed smile. They'd come along way from the indifferent relationship with Streaming Breeze they’d once had. It was nice to have reliable ponies around.

“I understand.” Snowy said, with a nod. “After all, making peace is a virtue... I'm sorry for marring your birthday with this business, Tempest. Maybe I should have taken you up on your offer of laying around with books.”

“I think it's all turned out for the better.” Tempest said. “I'm getting hungry though... Anything planned for dinner?”

There was no real plan for the midday meal, as it turned out. Bread, butter, and water. No wine or mead or anything of the sort, though it was a bit early for that. Tempest was curious to see if they'd let her drink such stuff, now that she was sixteen, an adult by human standards. I was an adult by pony standards two years ago though... Aharôs did not look kindly on drinking, though; at least not to the extent many humans did.

But there was one surprise: Empress Alaia appeared, gracing the lowly pegasi with her regal presence. She held a bundled cloth under her arm. “Good afternoon.” she said, inclining her head ever so slightly. Snowy and Streaming knelt, and Tempest bowed her head.

“Good afternoon, Empress.” she said. “What brings you down to this part of the palace?”

“I heard you became an adult today. Sixteen years old! Seems like it was just yesterday for me.” The Empress smiled fondly, looking off into space. “In fact, I heard this quite a while ago from your friend Snowy. Îrilôs said you had no medallion of your own during your meeting with him, King Fâôs, and King Aharôs. Well, we thought it best you had one, so...” Alaia put the bundled cloth on the table, and opened it. There, as was promised, was the medallion. It was made of silver, hung on a silver chain; the black cyclone of Tempest's house over a white surface, both carved from the same two-layered, two-colored onyx crystal.

“It's beautiful!” Snowy gasped.

“What a work of art.” remarked Streaming.

“I like it.” Tempest said.

“Is that all you have to say?” hissed Snowy, poking her side.

“It's a very noble gift, my Empress.” Tempest went on. “Thank you very much.”

“I'm glad you approve.” she said, clasping her hands. “Well, go ahead, put it on.” Tempest did so, and placed the medallion squarely in the middle of her chest. “Ah, how queenly!” The Empress clapped, and Snowy nodded approvingly. “Now you look like a real monarch.”

“I certainly feel more legitimate.” said Tempest, smiling as best she could. She actually didn't, but it was a very nice piece of jewelry... “We don't have much food fit for the Queen of Queens here, but if you'd like to join us tonight for supper, you'd be very welcome.”

“Sadly, Îrilôs and I have court business to attend to.” the Empress said. “It was all I could do to get away for a bit to bring this by. I hope you do have a good day, Tempest.”

“And you too.” Tempest said, bowing again. With that, the Empress departed.

“What a lovely work this is.” Snowy lifted up the medallion with a hoof, and looked closely at it. She turned it over, reading the tiny stamp on the back of the silver. “The mark of Pashalîôs and Sons. Very prestigious, Tempest; they're the best jewelers in Ar-Athazîon. What a lucky girl you are!” Lucky! Tempest wanted to laugh, but appreciated Snowy's input more. “You'll put Aharôs and his backwater smiths in Vatherîon to shame with this.”

“Pashalîôs?” Streaming asked. “Haven't we met a Pashal before?”

“Yes, the Mayor of Sturaj, if I recall.” Tempest scrunched her nose up. “Unpleasant man.”

“That feels like a lifetime ago.” said Streaming. “I think I'd prefer to run into this jeweler... Of all those we've lost along the way, why couldn't that man have been one of them?”

“Believe me, Streaming, if I could choose who lived and who died...” Tempest trailed off, looking down at her medallion, with her family's emblem carved proudly into it.

“Say no more, my Queen, that is a dreary subject. I apologize for bringing it up.”

The three spent the rest of the afternoon recalling happier days at Nikadîon. Well, it was mostly Tempest and Streaming Breeze. Snowy listened in contently, but Tempest could see her twitch when Streaming mentioned one of the Blackwind bunch in a better light than either of the two had ever known them to stand in. Coldstar especially. She and Streaming had been close, both undyingly loyal to Maelstrom and veterans of the same battles, but Coldstar had never been nice to either Tempest or Snowy. Indeed, she had been downright cruel to Snowy. Not long after arriving in Athair, Coldstar had proposed that they cut off Snowy's wings and send them to the Swiftrains as revenge. Tempest had forbidden it, as she had no idea what Snowy had might have possibly done to them; she was a friend, even if Snowy wouldn't get the nerve to speak to Tempest for another two weeks.

Supper was a more formal affair for the three, though the food was much more exciting. Tempest discovered the delight that was sweet-bread, which was like some kind of human version of cake. For a while, it seemed like it was a pony-only affair, but Aharôs and Turaz turned up partway through the meal. “Good evening.” said the King of Athair, cool and distant as ever.

“How nice of you to join us.” Tempest said. “You are joining us, right?”

“Sure.” said Turaz, sitting down. He'd been missing from her life for some time now, and she had half a time to ask him what he'd been doing. His beard was full now, as men of the south often wore, but his eyepatch unchanged. But being the dutiful ward, Tempest had other things to address.

“You've been busy lately, haven't you?” she said, nodding to Aharôs.

“That I have. Plotting your return, and my liege's war.” Aharôs sat down too, though he did not take any food like his knight was.

“Most of the problems involve supplying thirty thousand men. We had what, less than ten thousand this spring?” Turaz asked.

“About there.” Aharôs agreed. “And when I'm not dealing with that, I'm out inspecting the ships or testing the rockets or-” He stopped, and shook his head. “It is not a life of quiet, like yours, Tempest.”

“I've rather liked a quiet life.” Tempest said.

“So I've heard. I've got a new book for you, you can have it later. For now, I'll enjoy your company.” The King gestured to the ponies and his knight. They all stared back at him.

“Forgive my boldness, my King,” Streaming Breeze piped up, “but we've never known you to enjoy anyone's company.”

“You'd be right about that.” Aharôs frowned. “Sidâl and Avenîl think I should be less sharp with people, though. It's aroused more suspicion than my normal behavior, I do not think they were right.”

“Avenîl?” Snowy whispered to herself, growing lost in her own thoughts. That name did sound familiar... She just couldn't remember where she'd heard it before. It was a woman's name, Tempest knew that, but not a common one.

“I think you're better off just being you.” said Tempest. “Don't listen to Sidâl too much.”

“It won't matter soon enough anyway.” Aharôs waved a hand, as if shooing off a fly.

“Onto another subject, my Queen,” Turaz said, “we've recovered your armor and other sword from Vatherîon. It took some deal of Imperial trickery, but it's ours again.”

“Oh... good...” Tempest squirmed in her seat at the reminder that they expected she'd need such gear. The fighting on the Verâd campaign had given her enough of the taste of blood to know that she didn't like it.

“Good indeed, I'd say! That armor is as fine as any great king's. Finer than what your own guardian wore himself last time he went into battle!” Turaz knocked a hand on the table, emphasizing his words. “I've heard rumors here that that metal can deflect magic.”

“What kind of metal does such a thing?” Streaming Breeze asked. Tempest knew it was true enough, she'd seen her sword do as much when they encountered the wraith at Kakâdras.

“It's forged right here, under this very palace apparently. Master smiths from across the realms come here and work their way with it, for a price, but they are not allowed to take any of the ore or ingots or what have you with them. Most people seem to think it's a relic of the alicorns, when this was their city.”

“He's right.” Aharôs said. “It is some kind of alicorn relic. But as to the nature of that relic... We cannot guess.”

“Magic-deflecting armor. That could be very useful.” said Streaming.

“I intend to get some for myself, considering that my plain steel was left in Vatherîon.” Aharôs folded his hands, and leaned back in his chair. “I imagine our foe will be very surprised to find we do not burn as easily as they'd like.”

“I'm just happy Tempest has some. Though I hope she won't need it.” Snowy gave Tempest her best reassuring smile.

“Hope and Blackwind seldom go together.” Tempest said dryly, looking at her medallion again.

After supper, they went their separate ways. The long and cold winter nights were on them, and soon they'd reach solstice. The sun was setting already behind the clouded sky. Aharôs though, asked Tempest to come with him to his quarters. “Remember,” he said, “I've got a book for you.” Tempest was happy to follow at the promise of new reading.

His dwelling here had taken up a look much like that of his chambers in Nikadîon. Dark and gloom was everywhere, maps and papers were scattered about, most of the windows had their curtains drawn. The humans liked to keep little eight-rayed stars in their houses, but not one could be found in here. Aharôs pushed open a single curtain, and nodded, as if it was an improvement.

“This is for you.” he said, handing her an old-looking book. Tempest opened it, and to her great surprise, it was written in Equestrian letters. And not only that, but it was the common Equestrian, and not the formal Alicornic!

“Beekeeping in the Realm of Highcrest!” Tempest's ears flew straight up, and she couldn't help but grin. “It's wonderful! Where did you get this?” she asked.

“The city's rat-folk happen to have a good deal of Equestrian books. I don't know if they brought it with them in exile, or got it more recently, but they had it. Quite an unusual thing to find, I-” Aharôs froze when Tempest reared up and hugged him, standing just as high as he did. “Great Lord, you've gotten tall since you did that last.” he said. “Now, back down you go!”

She obliged, dropping back to all fours. “I know you never liked hugs, but...”

“Yes, yes, you're a happy pony, for the moment.” Aharôs nodded. “I think this book will serve you well when you return home.” He sat down on the very wide chair, and Tempest joined him.

“Do you think I'll have time?” she asked. “Being a Queen surely will take work.”

“Maybe.” He tilted his head to one side, staring at one revealed window across from them. “That depends on how much responsibility you give Snowy. Which will be quite a bit, I imagine.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I haven't been blind these last ten years, Tempest.” Aharôs said. “You're not your mother, at all. You may have her fur, her mane, and her family's name, but otherwise... No, you are nothing like her.”

“I'm not?” Maelstrom was everything ideal, according to everyone around her, barring her uncle... What did it mean if she wasn't like that?

“No. She was made of sterner spirit than you. I remember after you made your first kill this spring, you came to me and said you were upset. I thought you'd get over it, but as the months have gone on, I've seen you slip further and further away from who we all thought you were. And then you told me just how deeply those events had disturbed you.” Aharôs paused, and looked at her. He put a hand on her shoulder, almost as if he were forcing himself to do it. “It all makes sense, in hindsight. I’ve been thinking on it for some time now. When you were young, you loved animals and nature, you would rather explore the countryside around Nikadîon than learn of history or warcraft. Maelstrom said she spent hours going over strategies and political discourses when she was young, you spent hours watching the bees or coaxing Snowy out of her shell so that she might have one friend in the world.”

“Is that bad?” Tempest asked, ears drooping with worry.

“I have wondered that myself.” said Aharôs. “In the past few months, the veil has been lifted from my eyes. I see many things clearly, now, and you are among them. There is no warrior in you, Tempest, nor much queen. But there is heart, and perhaps it may yet count for something. Even in a world as harsh as this one… Though how is still beyond my understanding.” Those were far kinder words than what Tempest was expecting him to say, at least compared to the last time they’d had a talk like this.

“Since when did you have a sense of empathy?” she asked, smiling anyway. “Did Sidâl show you a magical crystal or something?”

“Hah!” He certainly looked amused at that idea. "Maybe he did..."

Months later, Tempest would realize that day had been the last time she ever heard Aharôs laugh.

Author's Notes:

If I told you this is our penultimate chapter in Sarathûl, would you believe me? You should.