Chapter 3

“Holding out for a hero…”

    “I’m just saying, Commander...”

    The white coated guard smirked at his fellow puller. “It’s not our job to know why, Lieutenant.”

    “Lieutenant Commander,” the mare corrected grumpily, “and I suppose you’re right, Sir. Still, if we’re winging our way into the gryphon’s territory and right into a suspected trap, wouldn’t it make sense to have an entire wing with us for backup?”

    “Would they be able to keep up?” The other guard offered a cocky grin to his partner. “We’d have outdistanced any force the Princess would have sent with us.”

    Filigree couldn’t help but smile from her position inside the chariot. It was rare for her to ride in one; she usually preferred to fly herself rather than be carried. But these were special circumstances and, despite their banter and the Commander Fleethoof’s cocky attitude, they were every bit as fast as Celestia had advertised. They tore across the skies almost effortlessly at speeds the gryphon herself couldn’t have come close to. More than once she’d spotted the telltale streamers clinging to their hooves as they neared Rainboom speed, but the pair always shied away from trying to push the barrier.

    The mare snorted, “You know what I mean Commander. It’s not like we couldn’t have gone slower to accommodate a larger force.”

    “The reason is simple, Lieutenant Commander,” Filigree finally added to the discussion.

    “M-ma’am?”

    “It’s the same reason we are heading into what the Princess believes is a trap,” Filigree answered. “She has hope.”

    “No offense, Special Liaison,” the stallion said with a frown, “but I don’t follow.”

    “Princess Celestia hopes that she is wrong. She knows this is likely a trap, yet she asked me to come anyway. Why? Because she hopes she is misjudging the situation and the gryphons truly do want peace. She didn’t send an entire wing of pegasi for the same reason,” Filigree answered, folding her claws on the rail of the chariot. “My kind would see that as an invasion force. If they are truly interested in peace, it would have died the moment they spotted us.”

    “And if it’s truly a trap,” the mare said, chewing thoughtfully on her lip, “then they would use it as an excuse to blame hostilities on the ponies.”

    “Precisely,” Filigree agreed with a nod.

    “Then why bother to issue us wingblades?” the Commander asked with a frown.

    “Simply because we come in peace does not mean we are defenseless,” the gryphon stated.

    The chariot pullers met each other’s eyes nervously for several long moments. The remainder of the flight was mostly done in silence, if an oddly companionable one. Filigree simply watched as the pullers worked in tandem to draw the chariot along. Both wore the traditional colors of Celestia’s Royal Guard with white coats and blue manes and tails, and they wore golden armour that covered most of their bodies. They each additionally bore a helmet with a crest that Filigree felt was far too flashy to be practical.

    The chariot broke through the clouds and into a breathtaking mountain range that seemed to spread out in all directions beneath them. The “Dragon’s Teeth Mountains” were appropriately named, with spires capped in snow arching up towards the clouds, while valleys between the tightly packed mountains seemed to vanish into darkness below. Filigree knew from experience that somewhere down there, almost hidden completely in those shadows, ran the icy river that provided water for the aeries above.

    It was a cold shock through her heart when the aerie itself came into view, the mountain peak towered over all its neighbors to frame itself majestically against the cold blue sky above, snow glistening in the late day sun. The clouds all but vanished within miles of the aerie, and Filigree was able to pick out watcher stations in the caves that riddled the mountaintops nearby. It was not the comforting sight the gryphon had hoped for.

    “Too quiet,” she muttered softly.

    “Ma’am?” the pegasus mare asked and perked an ear towards her.

    “It’s too quiet,” Filigree repeated, “there’s no gryphons out and flying around. We should see almost a cloud of my brethren flying about in training, rituals, enjoyment, or whatever. The fact that there are no gryphons out and about…”

    “We’ll stay alert,” the Commander answered softly.

    “Company,” the mare chimed in, nodding forward. A foursome of gryphons, each wearing silver scaled armour and carrying a spear in their fore-claws, launched themselves from the uppermost cave of a nearby spire and were winging their way towards the ponies and their chariot.

    “Let the games begin,” Filigree said to herself and adopted as neutral a posture as she could. She clenched the “muscle” that controlled and removed the metal coating to her wings, rendering them normal to all appearances. The pegasi slowed as the gryphons approached, and finally came to a hovering stop when hailed.

    “Halt and identify!” demanded one of the gryphons.

    “I am Special Liaison Filigree, here by request of both the clans and the Princess Celestia to act as a diplomatic bridge between the Pony and Gryphon nations,” Filigree called back.

    “Ah, the liaison,” the gryphon answered, his voice too neutral for Filigree’s tastes, “we feared you might not make it. We will escort you to the Arch-Duke’s nesting chambers.”

     The foursome of gryphons formed a protective ring about the chariot and began to fly towards the aerie. The two pegasi were quiet, watching their escorts with the studious disinterest that came professionally from those who expected trouble. They were watching everything, and nothing, all at once. Filigree remembered the lessons from her own training all too well. One must assess the danger posed by every individual in the near vicinity, but to focus too closely on one potential danger was to miss hundreds of other potential threats, not to mention those you could not anticipate or immediately recognize.

    The group was lead to a large cave roughly two-thirds the way up the slope of the central mountain. The space was empty, with more than enough room for the chariot to set down. The gryphoness added another oddity to her growing list; this cave should be filled with traders importing and exporting goods. The fact it was completely empty, save for their chariot, made the chamber seem grossly oversized and hollow.

    “Thank you,” Filigree told the two pullers, and left her bag with the chariot for now. “You’ll want to give yourselves a chance to stretch and get out of those harnesses.”

    “Our orders are to remain with you, Special Liaison,” Commander Fleethoof answered. The mare was already out of her harness and tugged a strap on his to help him slip free.

    Filigree just nodded and, when the pair was ready, turned to face the gryphon guards waiting on them. “Lead on.”

    For a brief moment, Filigree thought she noticed hesitation and confusion on the face of the guard, but it vanished almost instantly and he turned his back on her. The guards were all large, even for gryphons, and towered over the delegation. Filigree further noted that the armour they were wearing wasn’t ceremonial, but practical. What she had taken for silver in the light of the sun was polished steel in reality.

    From the entry chamber, the delegation was lead further into the mountain aerie. To the ponies, who had never been inside one, it was a strange place. To the gryphoness, who once lived within these halls, it granted an odd sense of déjà-vu. She knew these passages like the back of her claws, and yet they felt alien and dark. Chiseled tunnels into the core of the mountain now reminded her of the tunnels an ant might make in the ground. For the most part gryphons nested in small caves they carved off the main pathways, out of sight of the central congregation chamber. Filigree knew that only the higher castes, who lived in the upper caves of the aerie, would have their own access to the sky about the mountain. The rest would be cut off from the open air they were meant to live in, and the lower their caste, the less able they would be to make the time to slip out of one of the lower entrances and stretch their wings.

    The large central congregation chamber made Swan Dive gasp in surprise when they entered it, earning her a sharp glare from her Commander. To an outsider the true face of the Aerie would seem strange and incredible to them, the hollowed out the center of the mountain that served as the central meeting chamber was truly awe inspiring. With everything carved out of solid rock, the internal space of the mountain formed a towering latticework of homes, shops, and perches. It seemed to alternate from delicate to sturdy, with slender stalactites and stalagmites supporting entire clusters of roosts suspended in mid-air, while others were carved directly out of ancient rock formations. Glowing crystals of a myriad of colors offset the drab color of the stonework, lighting the chamber and keeping it in a state of perpetual twilight. To Filigree it felt like a shell of what it should be. What should be filled with voices hawking wares and animated discussions and cubs playing was completely empty, save for the occasional patrolling guard, which gave the aerie a strangely hollow feel.

    The guards took to their wings, forcing the small delegation to do likewise. Filigree barely watched their escort, instead her eyes flicking about the massive chamber they passed through. Something was definitely wrong; the aerie should be swarming with activity this time of day. There hadn’t been any major sicknesses or mass deaths she was aware of, especially not that would account for this emptiness.

    “Why are they hiding?” the Lieutenant Commander whispered to herself. Filigree carefully maintained her neutral expression, but realized the ponies had come to the same conclusion she had. The gryphons of the aerie were in hiding, scared of something… or someone.

    The escort led the trio into an entrance near the apex of the chamber, where the group was forced to land and walk in order to traverse through yet another tunnel. This tunnel appeared to be more carefully chiseled, smooth and far more spacious than the ones they had previously travelled through, decorated with banners and weapon displays to hide the dull brown rocks. Side passages held many a door and, in most cases, one or more gryphons in full armour guarding them. Filigree heard the Commander ruffle his wings, and wingblades, nervously at the sight of more gryphons armed with spears. Belatedly she realized that those spears would give the gryphons a reach advantage over non-unicorns, but the unique head design drew her attention. The spears were broad headed, but with three prongs instead of one. They looked almost like three leaves overlapping at the stem, but spread so that the tip of each arched a different direction. The central tip was the longest, with the additional two sprouting outwards at an angle that looked as if they were designed to catch and turn blades. Filigree found herself wondering if they were designed intentionally to handle wingblades.

    The escorting gryphons turned a dog-legged passage before entering the wide chamber that was very obviously the ruling hall of the Arch-Duke. To call it a “nest” or “roost” would have been an insult, even if those were the traditional names for the chamber. The chiseled room arched upwards to nearly the cap of the mountain, and the cold from the snow still resting there was palpable. One half of the chamber was ringed with open archways that lead directly out into the sky, as tradition indicated the higher one’s station, the more access to the sky they would be allowed. Only the King of the clans was allowed more access to the sky than the clan heads, the Arch-dukes. A wide strip of rich purple carpet, which looked out of place to Filigree, extended from the centermost of those arches and all the way across the chamber to a dais set near the opposite wall. The raised dais held a stonework throne, decorated with silver chasing and gems gathered from when the mountain was first hollowed out.

    For as large as the chamber was, Filigree couldn’t help but feel slightly crowded. Only the two ponies were close enough to touch as their escort faded back, but the gryphon could see guards around the perimeter of the room, eight of them standing imposingly by each entrance and near the archways. They were all doing their best impressions of a statue, their eyes at once keenly aware and unfocused.

    “Where is--?” Swan Dive began, before a hiss from her Commander silenced her.

    “The Arch-duke will make his entrance when he is ready,” Filigree answered, her eyes casting about, half looking for a strategic advantage of any sort, and half in nostalgia. She’d been in this chamber many times… always in the accompaniment of Prince Silverthorn, the Arch-duke’s son.

    “It feels strange being here,” Filigree sighed softly. The Commander looked to her worriedly as she waved a claw. “I’m fine. I just have many a memory of attending to Prince Silverthorn as his servant and bodyguard here. It feels strange to be here once more, this time without being commanded.”

    “Ah, but you were commanded,” a new voice answered, and drew the gaze of Filigree and the ponies accompanying her. The voice’s owner was a stately, if aged, gryphon coated with graying fur and feathers. He had obviously seen better days, and his body was starting to show the frailties of his advanced age. He wore a patch over his left eye, along with the scar that made the necessity of it apparent, and a grizzled expression that seemed more suited to a younger gryphon. Behind him, clumsily attempting to remain in his shadow, stood the gray feathered Prince that was his son. Unfortunately for him, he was far too large to truly hide behind his father, and even his carefully coiffed and styled feathers could hardly hide the voluminous weight of the adult prince.

    “Arch-duke Silverwing,” Filigree said with a polite incline of her head. It was a motion she didn’t repeat for the prince. “Prince Silverthorn.”

    The prince’s stare bore into her even as the Arch-duke settled himself on the carpeting, sitting not on the throne, but beside the throne. “Welcome home, Filigree,” the arch-duke said with a half smile.

    “My home is elsewhere,” she answered softly, “and that is not why I am here.”

    “No, no it’s not,” the elder gryphon sighed. “However, this is not my play, I fear.”

    Filigree raised an eye-ridge. “Oh? Has the Prince finally gathered his courage to force you to step down?”

    The elder gryphon gave a rasping laugh, “This lug? I love my boy, but he doesn’t have the stones. He’s a politician, all soft and flabby, not a warrior. Not a leader.” The Prince looked at his father crossly, but didn’t open his beak to refute his words.

    “Am I not here to act as a politician as well?” she asked softly.

    “You’re not stupid, Filigree,” the elder gryphon answered, his good eye narrowing. “My son, and his trainers, told you otherwise, but I know you’re not stupid. You may lack cunning, but you were always as sharp as a talon.”

    “Maybe, maybe not,” Filigree said noncommittally.

    “You must know this is a trap.”

    “I did… I do.” Filigree sighed softly, “I hoped that I misread the situation.”

    Silverwing snorted, “The soft-hearted Princess is wearing off on you.”

    “Plus, I wanted you to confirm it for me,” Filigree stated, a slight smile quirking her beak.

    The Arch-duke frowned at Filigree for a long moment. “You cannot tell me that you came all this way just to have me tell you if this was a trap or not.”

    “I came to confirm if you and the gryphon clans were serious about the desire for peace between themselves and the pony lands,” Filigree answered. “I voluntarily chose to place myself on the line to learn that answer, which I now have.”

    “The question is,” someone asked from behind her, “what do you think you can do with that information?”

    Silverwing and his son at once straightened themselves up visibly, and Filigree’s heart sank. She turned slowly, raking her gaze over the newcomers to this scene, only to have her fears confirmed. Had he been alone, the gryphoness would have been far more respectful of the leader of the procession. He cut a handsome figure, downright noble in fact, as he stalked across the chamber. His fur had a golden glow to it, offset by the snow-white feathers of his crest. Perfectly sharpened talons clicked along the stone, even through the carpeting, as he reached the throne and settled himself down on it.

    Unfortunately, the gryphon had not entered alone. A group of others had entered with him, lead by a heavy set gryphon with a half hood hiding his features. In one of his fore-claws he held a heavy chain, which he pulled on mercilessly, forcibly leading a procession of five gryphons by the harsh iron collars locked about their necks.

    “I trust you recognize your family?” the golden gryphon asked needlessly. “I did so want them along for a nice little reunion.”

    Filigree took a careful breath, and then looked directly to the gryphon on the throne, “Yes, I suspected as much. I will admit, however, that I did not expect the King bother with the likes of me. Given that you are too young to be the venerable King Goldbeak, I presume that you are his only son?”

    The gryphon on the throne gave a mock bow. “You would be correct. My father passed away late last fall, and now I am now the King of the Clans, King Goldtalon.”

    “If memory serves, you are the middle of three cubs,” Filigree noted. “I do wonder what happened to your elder sister, and intended Queen, Goldshrike.”

    “She had a horrible training accident,” the king answered in an oddly distracted voice, “she nearly killed herself in a fall, and maimed one of her wings beyond the healers’ abilities to repair. Father was lucky to marry her off to some high class merchant family, given her infirmity.”

    “Yes, losing the ability to fly is almost as bad as being declared ‘cursed’,” she stated evenly, her eyes never wavering from his golden-brown ones.

    The king smiled and spread his claws. “Well well, Silverwing was accurate for once; you are smarter than the average servant. Brains, brawn… and I must confess you’re also quite a beauty too. If you weren’t so dangerous, I’d have claw picked you to be in my harem.”

    “You have a reason for drawing me here now,” Filigree said, ignoring the leer from the king. “This trap is larger than I anticipated, I must confess, but so far you have yet to surprise me. You bring before me a family that once abandoned me in chains, now wearing chains of their own, as if that would lure me here. Additionally, you sued for peace, knowing that it would attract the Princesses’ attentions. In short, you wanted me here for something.”

    The king frowned. “You don’t have much of a flare for the dramatic, do you?” he asked sardonically.

    “You can ask the Prince how ‘dramatic’ I could get,” she noted simply, and the Prince in question ruffled his feathers irritably and scowled.

    “Very well then, to the point,” the King said, and hopped off the throne. “Your family is here because, quite frankly, you aren’t being given a choice. You will rejoin the gryphon clans.”

    “Why?”

    The King blinked. “Did you just ask me ‘why’?”

    “Yes, I did,” Filigree answered.

    “Are you questioning royalty?” the king asked incredulously.  “Are you serious?”

    Filigree smiled thinly. “Did you forget that I represent another of equal rank? One who, might I remind the king, I was sold to and now owe my allegiance to?”

    “Yes, I’ve had a few words with Silverwing about that,” the king growled softly. The Prince shrunk back, but the Arch-Duke braced himself, as if anticipating a blow. It never came, the king instead smiled in a way that made Filigree’s confidence wane.

    “Ah well, I’m not going to reveal all my reasons,” the king chuckled, “but here are three reasons I’m willing to reveal, simply because I’m sure you’ve guessed some of them already, and the other will be revealed to you shortly. First and foremost, you’re part of the greatest weapon in the world, the ‘Elements of Harmony’. I will not allow my enemies to possess a weapon of that caliber.”

    “Since when are we ponies your enemy?” Swan Dive blurted out. Commander Fleethoof hissed at her, and the King spared her a sharp glance, but Filigree looked thoughtful before returning her gaze to the king.

    “That is a good question, when did the ponies become your enemy?” Filigree echoed.

    “You should leash your pets,” the King growled. The mare’s wings ruffled, but any retort was cut off by the swat of Fleethoof’s wing.

    “They are my compatriots, not my pets,” Filigree stated, her voice dipping dangerously as she locked eyes with the King.

    The king couldn’t help but smile. “You have a backbone of steel, I see. The tamers that worked you over should be flogged for failing to break your spirit. Regardless, the answer to the question is ‘always’. The Ponies have always been our enemies; some are just too foolish to see it.”

    Filigree raised en eye-ridge, but said nothing.

    “The second reason,” Goldtalon continued, “is that you will be an example of our traditions being far superior to the ways of Pony-kind. Even with the respect you’ve earned amongst the ponies, returning to gryphon society would be a rejection of everything they stand for.”

    “A pyrrhic victory at best, as your intention is to remove my choice in the matter.”

    “Only between you, myself, and the choice few within this room,” the King answered with a smile. “To the rest of the clans, they will only know you turned your back on the ponies, thus affirming our superiority in their eyes.”

    “And the final reason?” Filigree asked, keeping her expression carefully neutral even as she tried to ignore the cluster of gryphons nearby. The presence of those she knew as “family” was like a burning presence in the room, a source of heat that threatened to burn her if she stumbled too close.

    “That is the simplest, and also the most important, given the time of year,” he noted with a smile, “I’ve agreed to give you as a mate to another gryphon.”

    Filigree’s mask slipped for a moment, her own astonishment at the revelation causing her jaw to work for a moment before her composure reasserted itself. “W-what?! Who?” she demanded.

    The King laughed, “Surprised? I’m sure you are, being a lowly servant and all, but I’ll not reveal who this lucky lad is until I’m ready. Suffice it to know that, come tomorrow morning, you will be given to your future mate and preparations for your marriage will be made. You won’t be leaving us.”

    “That’s why you needed to be sure of the timing,” Filigree mused. “If I had already promised myself to another before I arrived here next week, tradition would have forced you to honor that.”

    “Quite right,” the King responded with a cold smile, “but since tomorrow is your hatching day, you will have no chance to give yourself to another before I may make the promise on your behalf.”

    “You’re assuming your trap will keep me here.”

    “Ah, now that’s the trick, isn’t it?” he asked, his smile far too wide for Filigree’s comfort. “After all, we have your family here. The longer you resist, the more they will suffer. I had my personal torturer accompany me, just for this little show. He will probably start with basic whipping, then move on to those brands he brought and are already warming on the coals over there, and some cutters for removing their claws….”

    Filigree forced herself not to shiver, but she could hear the gasp from the pegasus to her left. The other’s jaw clenched and his teeth were grinding so loudly that she suspected he’d need a dentist in the near future. Worse were the gasps and growls from the captive gryphons that were of her blood. She struggled against herself, but was unable to overcome some unspeakable need, and turned to face those she would have to throw to the wolves in order to rescue them. The simple act of meeting their eyes made her a lot less confident about her plan.

    The first in line of the bedraggled quintet of shackled gryphons was her father, Shale. Her memories of him clashed with the visage before her. She remembered him as a tawny furred gryphon with mottled brown feathers and far too much pride. He was the sort who would anger over the merest misstep, and lash out with his claws at any of his children to step out of line. Quick to punish and slow to forgive, his harsh gray eyes locked onto hers with a combination of hatred and fear. He would happily lash out at her again were it not for the fact she was stronger than he was. Of course, in chains and his tawny fur matted with filth, he hardly looked prepared to give any sort of struggle. Her mind remembered him when she was young, and how he had towered over her. Now, she was surprised to notice she was a full inch taller than he. Oddly, she felt nothing but pity for the gryphon that once terrorized her cub-hood.

    Next was her mother, Patina, who looked almost exactly as she remembered her. Certainly she was dirtier, with her tawny fur matted and filthy, but the soft white crest Filigree had inherited was still easily notable. Blue eyes looked back at her fearfully. Mother was still terrified of her, as she had been since her “curse” surfaced. But then, Mother was terrified of everyone, and for once she had a reason to be. Father dominated her every day of her life, threatening her with his claws…  Now it seemed as if she finally had something proper to fear, and that something far larger than her mate. Filigree wanted to feel sorry for her, but felt nothing, only an emptiness that refused to acknowledge the pitiful gryphoness’ fear. It was that fear, after all, that forced Filigree away from her and into servitude. Filigree quickly looked away, feeling hollow and brittle.

    Her elder sister, Pyrite, was two years her senior and next in line. She was, in no uncertain terms, a spoiled brat. She wooed any male who could support her lavish tastes, and when he ran out of money she would abandon him. Filigree heard she was technically mated, though her current reduction in caste would have nullified that mating, but she cheated on the poor gryphon with such regularity that she had broken his spirit as surely as her father had broken her mother’s. The eyes of her sister glared back at her, angry, fierce, and surely blaming every stroke of the whip on her. Filigree couldn’t even summon pity for her sister, just a great empty void where a sister should have been.

    The fourth in the line was her nest-sibling, Fracture, which was a fancy way of saying he came from the same clutch of eggs she did. Identical in age he may be, but his personality was as interesting as a pet rock. He was a simple, thoughtless brute. He was a bully and a soldier, who never had the guile to improve his station or the motivation to improve himself. He was a follower, not a leader, and he despised it. Because of that, he despised everyone else and pushed around anyone smaller than himself. Much like their elder sister, he blamed everyone but himself for his failure. His eyes were dull gray orbs that returned her gaze flatly, but the sneer across his beak told her that he was not worth her pity either. Yet she pitied him anyway, for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom.

    Filigree’s expression darkened when her gaze fell upon the final figure in the coffle. She had to step closer to see the small shape half hidden behind her lump of a brother, but a push from the gryphon holding the chains forced her stumbling form into the open. Unlike the rest of the family, Filigree didn’t know this gryphon. Filigree guessed that the little gryphoness was roughly half her age, and must have hatched after she was given into servitude. Immediately Filigree felt a surge of protectiveness over the slender, almost pitiful, figure of the young gryphon. She had similar markings to Filigree’s own, with some mottling of the white crest along the sides of her head and face. Only after a moment did the young girl lift her head to look back at Filigree with bright and intelligent green eyes, and Filigree felt her heart clutch in her chest. There was no anger there. There was fear, but not of Filigree. But mostly there was a hollow desperation. The sense that she desperately wanted to be free from this situation, but knew no one would come for her, that no one would save her. It was the same desperation Filigree had felt all those years ago when she had been first placed in chains.

    Echoes of the past, and the torments she endured, drew Filigree’s attention to something wrong with the young gryphon’s wing. Maybe it was the awkward way she held it tight to her side, or the fact the feathers seemed out of place, but something noticeable was wrong. A glance confirmed the others of Filigree’s family were afflicted with the same problem, and she reached out a claw. The young gryphon shied away slightly, but the King barked a laugh.

    “You see it? Good, good. Show her…” he commanded the small gryphon. She ducked her head and whimpered, and he gave a dangerous growl.

    “I won’t hurt you,” Filigree told her, interposing herself between the King and her previously unknown sister, and the small gryphon’s eyes snapped up to hers. “I only want to see what they did to your wing.”

    The gryphoness, trembling physically, gave a quick nod and closed her eyes. With a slow, deliberate, motion she unfurled one wing towards Filigree. The gasp from the ponies behind her was more reaction than she allowed herself as she examined the wing. Several key feathers had been intentionally plucked out, a painful procedure that she remembered quite clearly. The feathers would grow back in time, but it would be months before she, or any of the captive gryphons, would fly again.

    “You’ve clipped their wings.”

    “Well, we couldn’t have them flying away before you got here,” the King answered with a dark smile.

    Filigree sighed softly. The small gryphoness tried bravely not to break down into tears as she folded her wing tightly to her side. It was all Filigree could do not to rush to comfort the small figure, but she needed to seem cold and distant for her plan to succeed, and then pray to Celestia it would actually work.

    “Your plan is a failure,” she told the king, meeting his gaze. One of his eye-ridges rose as she continued, “You failed to take into account one simple thing. My family is no longer here, but amongst those ponies in Canterlot.”

    Unfortunately, the king’s smile only widened. “What, exactly, are you saying?”

    “I am saying that I renounce these gryphons who claim to be my family,” she stated evenly. Unfortunately, Goldtalon’s smile didn’t waver, and a sense of dread crept through her. “I am officially separating myself and my deeds from those who hatched me. As much as they would wish to disown me, I will disown myself.”

    “Well… I suppose that answers that question.” The king just made an overdramatic sigh and motioned to the torturer holding the chains of Filigree’s family. “Torture them.”

    “Right here, Milord?” the hooded gryphon asked thickly.

    “Certainly, we can make them clean out their own blood later,” he stated with a shrug.

    “What purpose would that serve?” Filigree asked, careful to make sure her voice didn’t crack.

    “To call your bluff,” the king answered, that smile never wavering as Filigree’s heart sank. “If you can manage for an hour without coming to the rescue of your rather pitiful family, then I will accept your disownment of them. However, if you so much as move a muscle to protect any them, I will refuse your request.”

    “That bastard…” Swan Dive breathed under her breath.

    “Torturer…” the golden furred king said, “begin with the little one. Say, Filigree, weren’t you about that age when you were sold by your family?”

    The hiss of leather as the whip uncoiled, a leather serpent preparing to strike.

    The rattle of chains as they were pulled tight, spreading the figure helplessly.

    The whimper from the small gryphon ripped a hole through Filigree’s memories, tearing down her façade like tissue paper. The memory of her own induction forced its way into her mind. When she was shackled, humiliated, and whipped to break her will. The memories of her father’s smug face watching, the fear and tears in her mother’s eyes, and her cries to both of them, pleading to them and losing hope at the same time. Please forgive her, she had cried to them. She didn’t mean to lose control like that! Please help her! It wouldn’t happen again! Please, please help her! Please save her! Please, she’d do anything! Please don’t do this!

    An audible grunt from the whip-master…

    Please!

    The whistle of the whip filled the air…

    Please…?

    Muscles tightened and her wing flared. Metal spread along the length, metal she had kept retracted in respect to their fears of what she was. Now, it didn’t matter. Only one thing mattered as she heard the snap-pop from the tip of the whip…

    She almost couldn’t look, but forced herself. She stared down the length of her metal wing, jutting almost straight towards the King’s torturer. He stared back at her, his expression inscrutable. And between them, on the chromed length of her wing, the smudge mark made by his whip.

    Relief flooded Filigree, and she saw the green eyes of the gryphoness huddled under the arched wing staring at her with wonder. She hadn’t expected the rescue; she had been hopeless and terrified. Now… now she’d been given the single most powerful thing anyone could have ever given her.

    Hope.

    Filigree stared back at her, meeting her eyes even as she heard the whistling of the whip again. She didn’t flinch or look away when it landed across her own back. It was an ancient rite, a sacrifice for someone else, to take their “punishment” for them. But the torturer forgot something; Filigree wasn’t in chains.

    She felt the blood from where the whip had landed, dribbling down where her metal wing turned back to flesh. Pain lanced outward along the wing as she moved it, but she’d endured worse. Her wing arced again, tracing a deadly path that glittered in the evening sun, catching the down-stroke of the whip in mid-flight. She didn’t make a sound as another spot of pain flared along her hip. Instead she folded her chromed wing, satisfied.

    The large gryphon torturer stared dumbly at the stub of what was left of his whip after Filigree’s wing bisected it. The voices of the pegasi reached her ears as she swam back from the grip of her instincts and memories, and she turned to face them. The mare fluttered in place, wingblades brandished as if she had been prepared to attack the torturer herself. Fleethoof was facing the other way, his own wings spread defensively, eyeing the guards warily. Filigree couldn’t help but notice that the guards had adopted more aggressive stances, spears angled towards them threateningly. Obviously the King would only tolerate so much interference.

    A clapping from the King brought all attention back to him. “Bravo, Filigree. I knew you didn’t have the stones to go through with it. You are part of the Elements of Harmony, which to activate requires embracing our weakest nature.”

    Filigree considered those words for a moment, then looked back at the two ponies that had accompanied her, “Commander Fleethoof, Lieutenant Commander Swan Dive, this is where we part company. You have the evidence we need.”

    “Understood,” Fleethoof answered.

    “What about you, Liaison?” Swan Dive asked.

    “I cannot abandon them,” Filigree answered simply. The mare gave a silent nod.

    “Do you think they will be able to escape?” Goldtalon asked tauntingly, and gave a half smile as the guards widened their stances. Filigree smiled as she glanced back, seeing the four guards between themselves and the open arches to the sky had tightened their grouping. It was time for Plan B…

    “I don’t plan to give you a choice.” Filigree reached down and gripped the purple carpet with her claws, and with a fierce yank, pulled it out from under the guards directly behind her. The wide carpet had been secured well, but wasn’t prepared for the incredible strength of the gryphoness, and a foursome of guards found the rug literally yanked out from under them.

    “Good luck!” Swan Dive called, and the two pegasi revealed why the Princess had chosen them. It was as if they had been shot from a cannon, and they rocketed through the exit far faster than the gryphons could recover.

    “Stop them!” the king bellowed, and two pair of gryphons launched themselves across the chamber.

    Filigree smiled grimly, and turned to face them. A flex of her muscles, and her wings flared suddenly, the flat of her metal wings striking the lead pair on the side of their heads to send them crashing into their brethren. Rearing up on her back legs, she caught the second pair about the necks with her fore-claws. Each made an awkward squawk when caught, and struggled futilely against her iron grip.

    She slammed them both down to the stone floor with enough force to make cracks radiate in the solid rock. The gryphons she held were knocked unconscious, and she took a turning step, sweeping first one, and then the other, into the air as she hurled them at the recovering gryphons by the exit the pegasi had fled through.

    Filigree turned to face the throne with a mildly smug expression as the gryphons squawked behind her, now pinned under their unconscious compatriots. They would be free in short order, but she wasn’t trying to stop them permanently. She only needed to give the ponies time to flee. They were faster than any gryphon she knew of, so they should only need a proper head start.

    The King glowered at her, his noble and confident mask slipped into a seething rage. His snow white feathers were almost red with the flush of his face under them. Filigree couldn’t help but watch, even as the Prince and Arch-Duke back-pedaled away from him. In a way, she almost felt sorry for them, since they would bear the brunt of his anger. Almost.

    “Word will reach the Princesses,” Filigree stated.

    “Yet you didn’t flee,” the King noted, and his eyes flicked over her family, specifically the small gryphon at the end of the line who was watching Filigree with open admiration.

    “Some things are more important. Besides, speed is not one of my assets.”

    “Still, you seem to have made short work of the guard. But don’t worry; your friends won’t make it back.” He sneered at her. “Once you arrived, I had patrols sent out to strip away any cloud cover, and ordered them to chase down and kill anything even resembling a pony.”

    “Then you underestimate Princess Celestia’s Royal Guard,” Filigree answered. “She loaned them to me specifically for this purpose. She, too, suspected a trap. As such, back-up plans were made.”

    “Regardless, you aren’t leaving here.”

    “And how do you plan to stop me?” she asked simply.

    “Champion, to me!” the king called. A rumbling from a nearby doorway, leading to the arch-duke’s personal chambers if Filigree remembered correctly, filled the room as the largest gryphon Filigree could ever recall seeing forced his way past the door.

    It was a tight squeeze for the monster of a gryphon. With talons almost as long as her arm, the gryphon towered almost three times her size, and every inch another brick in a wall of muscle. His fur was sooty black, with a reddish-brown tint to his crest and fierce steel-gray eyes that immediately locked onto hers.

    “In the aerie I personally oversee,” the King explained with a dark smile, “we use cursed like you in the arena. The best of the best are chosen to become part of my personal entourage. Champion here has the longest winning streak of any competitor. I’m sure you can guess what his ability is.”

    “Yes, I think I can,” Filigree said, her stomach sinking a little as she looked at the monster before her. He was easily larger than a Manticore, and obviously much more intelligent. Worse, he was far more familiar with one on one combat than she was.

    “Champion? I need her alive, so you may not kill her. Just hurt her… badly.”

    “Yes, my liege,” the massive gryphon answered in a voice that sounded like the mountain itself just spoke.

    Filigree flapped her wings, gaining some altitude on the monster gryphon. He was obviously stronger than she was, so she had to hope she was faster while she looked for a specific weakness. “Champion” was built like a rockslide, with bulges everywhere and every one of them as hard as a boulder. But he had small wings, sized normally for an adult gryphon but not scaled to his increased size. A flare of hope surged through her… she highly doubted he’d be able to fly on those wings.

    Then he leapt at her.

    “Of course…” she muttered, and arched her wings forward to protect against the incoming claw. It wasn’t enough, and the heavy claws battered against her metal wings and drove her into the rocky ground.

    Only pure instinct saved her from the follow up, her body rolling away from the impact even before she had collected her wits about her. She may have hated those who trained her, but she had to admit they trained her well. Her wings swooped forward, their serrated edge skittering along his massive foreleg even as he drew it back. Both combatants stared in surprise as blood gushed from the wound.

    Filigree looked up at Champion and met his eyes. There was a calculating look in that steely gaze, but Filigree also saw a surprising measure of respect.

    “First blood,” he rumbled, then wiped a claw across the wound. He collected the blood on his claw-tip and raised it to his beak, tracing a line across the bridge of it like war-paint. Then, with an eerie silence, he leapt at Filigree.

    Filigree rarely felt like she was in danger of being overpowered, being the strongest on her team, but against this monster she was being gryphon-handled. His fore-legs were like pistons from some well oiled machine, lashing out at her with practiced precision. Worse, the defense she’d come to rely on was utterly worthless, and only got her battered and pushed with every impact. And pushed she was, slowly but surely, as Filigree realized he was trying to back her into a corner where she couldn’t get to the air again or have any room to maneuver.

    “I need to change tactics…” she told herself, grasping for ideas. A mad inspiration rushed forward, and she clutched to it desperately.

    His fist barreled towards her again, and her wings met it once more. This time she turned her metal wings, allowing the fist to continue over her back and giving her room to surge forward. Her talons sunk into his forearm as he started to draw it back, having realized what happened, and drew her up with it. Her stomach lurched with the sudden motion, and her body swung around like a ragdoll before her back claws joined her talons in embedding themselves in his forearm. Only when his arm reached eye level did she spring forward, her wings catching the air as she punched him square in the jaw.

    It was far FAR less successful than she hoped. He didn’t so much as flinch and Filigree wondered if she hurt her claw more than his beak. Then she was swatted away. She tumbled end over end before finally coming to a stop before her family, right at the feet of the smallest gryphon in the coffle, who looked down at her with wide, worried eyes.

    “What are--?” Filigree started, but the ground erupted and interrupted her thought. She was sent tumbling again, but she grasped at the small gryphon, the chains shattering with the explosion, and wrapped her wings around the little gryphon to protect her from the impact. She screamed, of course she did, but that was good, right? Screaming meant she was still alive.

    Filigree shook herself out and let the smaller gryphon out of her fore-legs. She was busy trying to stand up when she was met by a ham-fist slamming into her unprotected form. Then another punch… and another… and another… Then she was falling… no, that isn’t accurate, but she lacked another word for the sensation that preceded her crashing into the floor again, and rolled awkwardly onto her side. She was hurt, she realized... possibly severely, but she couldn’t tell. Her talons dug into the floor as she forced herself up, one wing hanging limply while pain flared along her left foreleg at the elbow. One of her eyes was swollen, but she stared defiantly at the approaching monster of a gryphon.

    No quarter was asked, and none was given. His claw grabbed her, massive and powerful, and wrapped about her neck and forelegs and chest. She squawked as he began to squeeze, the pressure on her neck and chest was immense, and black spots began to dance before her eyes. Her mouth gaped as she struggled for breath, but he was crushing it from her, her hind legs kicking futilely at the air as she struggled.

    Darkness started to creep in along the edges of her vision, and she grew more desperate, thrashing against his grip. His answer was a punch to her midsection, driving what remained of her breath from her. She was left gaping and gasping as the world swam around her.

    Wings… her wings! She was just on the verge of unconsciousness when the desperate idea struck her, and her muscles flexed. There was power behind them even as the left wing flared with pain, enough for one desperate stroke. She swept them both forward…

    …

    Filigree didn’t remember landing on the floor. Had she lost consciousness? She couldn’t be sure. Her eyes slowly parted, and she cried out in surprise. About her upper body was the limp claw of the monster gryphon, lying across her as blood pooled slowly from the stump. She looked up and saw Champion staring down at her in shock, his good claw clutching at the stump where she severed his other.

    “C-cauterize… it…” she managed to choke out through the pain that flared inside her chest. The gryphon looked at her in shock for a moment, and then nodded. His eyes tracked around the room and found the only fire available, the hot coals that the torturer had planned to use on her family. Without a second thought he shoved his stump into the coals. Filigree closed her eyes, not wanting to see, but she wouldn’t forget his scream anytime in the near future. Instead, she focused on weakly kicking off the severed claw that laid over her.

    “Well now, that was an unexpected result,” the King crowed from the throne, “it looks like the Champion has been dethroned!”

    Filigree didn’t answer, instead fighting her own body to stand up. She hurt, she wanted to find a soft nest and pass out, but somehow she made it to her claws, wobbling unsteadily as she looked briefly to her family. The youngest had been corralled and re-connected to the coffle, but she was safe. That was the important thing, even as the little gryphon’s awed expression warmed a part of her that she wasn’t aware she possessed.

    “Come here, Champion,” the King ordered. The mountain of a gryphon, now looking much smaller after his defeat, the loss of a claw, and the pain he endured cauterizing it, stumbled to the king on three legs. “Do you recall what I do when one of you lose?”

    The monstrous gryphon’s face looked stricken for a moment, his beak working silently to try and answer. He never got the chance. Filigree looked away. There could have been only one answer the King’s question, and the heavy thump of the Champion’s body confirmed it. Filigree glanced back to the King again, who was looking sourly down at the now dead gladiator and his own blood stained claw.

    “So, what now?” Filigree managed to rasp. “Your champion fell, and I still stand.”

    “You assume I only have one?” he asked, that damnable grin returning.

    The little gryphon screamed as something slammed into Filigree from behind, sending her limp form rolling into the center of the mostly destroyed throne room. Her body didn’t respond properly, but she forced herself up anyway, a foreleg curled under her body protectively as she scanned the room again.

    Nine pairs of new eyes stared back at her.

    “Meet the rest of my personal entourage,” the king laughed, “champions, every single one of them. And they’re oh-so-eager to avenge their fallen comrade.”

    “I presume that surrendering is not an option,” Filigree stated.

    “I’ll accept it,” he chuckled darkly, “once they’ve beaten it out of you.”

    The stallion regarded himself in the mirror.

    Slowly he turned his head, slit turquoise eyes regarding himself in the dim light, carefully examining every inch of his majestic frame. His midnight blue coat, so dark it melted into the night about him, shimmered in the weak moonlight to reveal the muscular contours of his body. With a quick turn of his head, his mane, a mass of mystic energy that appeared like a living star-field, flared about him. He was amused by the small tuft that protruded from his chin, hanging down only a few inches in a way that resembled a beard.

    His horn shone with a silvery color as he shifted the large mirror to look more closely over his body, flaring one of his large wings to examine the last of the scars on his left side. They displeased him, but they would not fade any more. It had taken many months, and he was sure of his recovery, but that reminder would never go away; a souvenir of his inglorious moment of defeat.

    He stomped a black hoof on the stone floor, almost lost amidst his unshorn fetlocks, and watched with satisfaction at the web-work of cracks emanating from the point of impact. Yes, he was recovered physically, but despite the year it took, he was no closer to a plan to handle the Princesses or their upstart pet mares. Worse, the Princess now commanded a new group of mares who could wield the Elements of Harmony against him. His side twinged at the memory of the burning wave of rainbow energy that had almost ended his existence for a second time.

    “I suppose I will need a new name,” he told his reflection with a grim smile, “Nightmare Moon somehow doesn’t seem appropriate.”

    He regarded his reflection in silence for several long moments, turning his head back and forth before glancing at his flank, and the new cutie-mark that had come with the new form; a sun partially hidden by a full moon, a perverse combination of both the Princesses’ marks. He frowned at it. It was something that had not been seen since he controlled Luna and took on Celestia, what later became known as the Lunar War. Celestia had attempted to raise the sun despite the moon left in the sky, and in a flash of inspiration, Nightmare Moon had imposed the moon before it, darkening the sky in a way no pony had ever seen before. He smiled at the memory, remembering their terror this event caused…

    A sudden impact on the mirror drew his attention, and his wings flared as the strange Alicorn braced for an attack. His stance relaxed considerably when he saw what had impacted the mirror, or more precisely, what he imagined had impacted the mirror.

    “Bastard!!” the reflection shouted at him in a voice the stallion knew only he could hear. Technically, no one else would be able to see the pony in the mirror’s reflection, even if they had looked. Only he could see and hear him, since this figure was only a fragment of his mind now, the pitiful creature he absorbed.

    “I don’t seem to recall you objecting before,” the stallion taunted the reflection, a white coated pegasus that was barely half his size. As if to contrast the dark stallion, this reflection had a mane of multiple colors and hues, unkempt as they flew every which way as it struggled to break through.

    “You lying--” the reflected pony seethed.

    “I see your banter hasn’t improved since you last pushed through enough to try and converse with me,” the stallion yawned, regarding the small pony with boredom. “Seriously, did you really think your foalish plan would work?”

    “Of course! It should have worked!” the reflected pony shouted, his mane bristling. “I am the strongest stallion in all of Equestria!”

    “Were, foal, were,” the stallion corrected with cruel smile, “but your power was easily dwarfed by your ego. You truly thought you would have the strength of will to do what Princess Luna herself could not? That takes a special kind of arrogance.”

    “Then we share one thing in common,” the reflection hissed, eyes wandering to the nearly invisible scarring on the stallion’s left side.

    The stallion’s eyes narrowed for a moment as he regarded the reflected image. “I would suggest you save your quips, Sunset Sparkle.”

    “Or what?” Sunset Sparkle asked back. “You can’t DO anything to me in here.”

    “Technically, I can do a lot to you ‘in there’. There is a reason I choose a host to possess.” The stallion smiled darkly. “They make such wonderful sacrifices when I must flee. A contingency plan, if you will.”

    “That didn’t work so well the last time, did it?”

    “Actually, it worked almost exactly as planned,” the stallion answered, “the imp I had possessed to assume that form was sacrificed to spare my own life. As such, I am here… admittedly hurt, but I still live.”

    “Oh? And here I thought you were just naturally ugly…” Sunset Sparkle quipped. “It must have been a real downgrade after Princess Luna.”

    “I won’t argue that. Princess Luna was… one of the finest meals I ever had. She sustained me for centuries, for over a millennium. Never had I such a meal, and she still had so much left to give before she would have finally been completely consumed. But, that said, one cannot expect to be able to subvert a Princess every time.”

    “So why the imp?” Sunset Sparkle asked curiously.

    “Simple,” the stallion answered in a low rumbling voice, “it possessed a skill I desired. I learn and absorb abilities from my ‘meals’. I learned magic, oh so much magic, from Luna. I learned to absorb magic from the Imp, which I knew would be needed to challenge Celestia’s rule again.”

    “And what about me?” the pony reflection asked, almost frightened of the answer.

    “Not a great deal, I fear,” the stallion mocked, “all your power was in your body. But it is an interesting change of pace to be a male this time. Luna was, of course, a mare. The Imps are technically sexless, all of them lay eggs when it is their time. Most of my catches, prior to finding this morsel of a planet, were female as well. This is the first time I’ve had the pleasure of being a stallion.”

    The reflection made a grunt, but opted to stay silent.

    “That doesn’t mean I haven’t learned anything.” The stallion grinned, looking directly at the reflected pony, their eyes locking. “The power of the body takes some control, so this saves me many tedious hours of training and practice. And let us not forget to mention the lovely little trinket I found within you…”

    “N-no…” Sunset Sparkle whispered, for the first time looking scared.

    “Oh yes. You thought that would give you some power over me. I know that’s where you disappeared to after escaping Canterlot. To hunt up this relic… and Equestria yielded its treasure to you so easily that you simply took it. Your arrogance never let you consider how or why it might be there; you simply took it for yourself. Now it’s in ME, and unlike a foal like you, I know how to use it. I know how to corrupt it.”

    The reflected pony threw himself against the glass of the mirror once more, his cursing filling the stallion’s mind. He couldn’t help himself, and let out a cackling laugh at the sight of Sunset Sparkle’s panic and anger. The laugh, combined with his deeper voice, sounded pleasantly ominous to him; like rolling thunder before a downpour.

    “Face the facts, Ultrapony,” the stallion taunted. “You lost. Your ego, thinking you’d be able to control me once we merged and then you could somehow present yourself as the conquering hero to the Princesses, took you to the obscene height of arrogance. Now you’ve brought me everything I need for a return!”

    “Except a plan,” Sunset Sparkle countered, his breath fogging the mirror where he leaned against it, tired from his exertions. The grip of the stallion’s miasma would drag him back under soon, his strength waned. He fought it, not knowing when he would be able to exert any sort of self will again, but it was a losing struggle.

    “I have all the time in the world.” The stallion grinned, as the wisps of black energy started to coalesce about the pony in the mirror, pulling the struggling pony down and into the quicksand of the alicorn’s mind. “You, however, have far less. Until then, you might as well enjoy the view.”

    Silence once again filled the old halls, and the stallion took a slow breath, spreading his wings lazily to feel the flow of air through the ancient castle. The ancient castle, with its crumbling stone architecture overrun by moss and ivy, seemed to breathe in the late night air. The stallion knew that this was home to an ancient and powerful magic. It was the magic that fed the entirety of Everfree Forest, making it so wild no pony could control it, and evolving creatures that were truly terrifying to behold. He had absorbed that magic, used it to heal his wounds, and to strengthen his resolve. Now it was time to gather his resources to strike back while they still thought he was dead.

    “An eclipse,” the stallion muttered as the memory from before Ultrapony’s interruption flashed into his mind, “the ponies called it an eclipse. I always liked the sound of that word; perhaps I should use that name for this form? Yes… I like that. Eclipse.”

    Eclipse frowned. To his chagrin, that fool Ultrapony was correct on one point: He had no plan.

    Yet…