A Sun in Winter

by Sledge115

First published 27th of December, 2016

In the distant past, a Reindeer princess deals with sweeping changes in her life when two peculiar foals land at her doorstep.

Far, far in the distant past, where chaos reigns and monsters roam, the realm of Adlaborn thrives. Under the rule of its founder and guardian Sint Erklass, Adlaborn and its Reindeer inhabitants stand firm against all manner of threats from beyond - both natural and supernatural.

But the lives of its people, particularly one Anna Erklass, face irrevocable change when two mysterious foals are sent to its doorstep, with the power to shift the celestial bodies, and the task to lead Equestria in the years to come.

With danger both beyond and within Adlaborn's walls, the young Reindeer princess must deal with the changing of the times, as the fate and future of both Equestria and Adlaborn cross paths. And beneath the grounds, darker forces stir, clawing for the foals, and grow ever stronger.

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Borrows elements from Disney's Frozen.

A distant prequel/companion piece for Joy to the Worlds - both can be enjoyed separately.

Co-written with VoxAdam, additional writing/cover art by Jed R, with ideas adapted from TB3 and TheIdiot, and proofread by DoctorFluffy

Set in the greater universe of SPECTRUM, though reading that is very much optional, and the story can be enjoyed as a standalone, independent piece.

For Jasmin

Prologue

The days were dark, the winds as cold and as unforgiving as the frozen grounds beneath the ice. Winter had come, and throughout the land, not a single soul dared to venture outside the safety of their hearth, into the desolate, frozen wasteland that lay beyond.

Save for one.

The pale silver doe’s breath grew ragged as the winds blew harder and harder across the frigid tundra. Her hooves were cracked, her gait weakened, and her body starved – but she persisted, for whatever purpose lay ahead was far more important than her concerns.

She could hear them amidst the blizzard, snarling, watching her move. As they had been, ever since she left the fringes of Equestria and into the realm of the Krampus.

Lilja thought fleetingly of the vile being, a dark abomination, as dark as the realm that birthed it, and the master of the windigos. And if such a creature mastered even the windigos, those icy ghouls, who were said to consume both mind and flesh, what else may it rule?

The Krampus’ imprisonment was of scant comfort for her. She heard the cackle and the howling of wolves, far less uncanny than the windigos pursuing her far above, but nonetheless still a terrifying fate to be considered. The wolves and bears, windigos and chimeras, they were starving, hungry, yearning for their master’s freedom.

But the foals tucked seafely within her bags were more important than her own life, Lilja wagered. Two enigmatic foals, without a parent, brought down to a strange, scary world, a symbol of hope to the beleaguered people of Equestria down south. For now, they would be safer in Adlaborn.

The thought of safety and warmth within Sint Erklass’ safe haven would have to wait, however, as the first of her pursuers revealed itself. That of a gigantic, monstrous polar bear. With a swipe of its claws, it shattered the rocky outcrop, narrowly missing her as she nimbly pranced in avoidance.

It wasn’t alone, to her chagrin, as a windigo, flanked by two wolves, struck from above. For a brief moment, their eyes locked, yellow against her own green pair. The malice rolling off the creature made her skin crawl. She felt it in their glares – clawing, grasping at her psyche, but the doe shook it off, leaping and bucking one of the wolves by its jaw.

She heard the creature’s bones crack on impact, and it let out a pitiful whine. Lilja winced to hear the sound of such pain, too dog-like for comfort, escape this predator’s throat. Yet now was no time for compassion, or mercy. They were after her.

Taking advantage of its distress, she stomped down, hard, on the wolf’s lolling tongue, crushing it into the rock underhoof. There came the wet, meaty sound of splatter, and the hapless creature leapt back, howling, a trickle of red flowing from its broken maw.

She gritted her teeth, cursing her own circumstances, for her inability to use her magic lest it drew much more powerful entities unto them. Now, she thought, no longer shall it be able to feed itself, or its pups. And what help could it expect in its weakness, from brethren such as this?

A tear might have welled up in her eye at that image, yet, teeth gritted, she blinked it back. She had children of her own to defend. And in this moment, this was more than the innocent cruelty of nature at work. These were monsters, hunting for her children. The cold and dark had filled them with hunger, a hunger more black and empty than what was right, and twisted them into something hateful.

To her right, she glanced, hearing the other wolf’s snarl, to see the windgo swoop towards her. She was unable to step aside quite in time. The cold wraith with a horse’s head and a tail of mist and vapor passed right through her, the icy touch of its breath trailing across her pounding heart.

Gasping in shock, she doubled down on herself. It could not hurt her, not truly, so long as she refused to let it in. But it could make her fear. Could make her feel, just for a fleeting, horrid moment, the same hunger within her heart that these wretches had fallen prey to, had allowed to consume them. Make her know how much they yearned to take her next.

And maybe even make her want to be taken.

Lilja’s gallop slowed down, weakened by both fatigue and a diminishing will, for the storm raged on without reprieve. As agile as she was, no mortal force, not even her own kind, could withstand the full fury of the winter storms without rest. The snow fell ever thicker and deeper, and even as she felt her ghostly pursuer halt, she heard a devilish little voice inside her mind, inciting her to surrender.

Within the scattered ruins of what had once been a home, abandoned in the tundra, she collapsed, heaving with chattering teeth. The storm was near impassable now, as the howling wind blew against her temporary shelter without mercy or compassion.

Her enchanted bags ruffled, and from within she could hear the soft whimpers and whinnying of the foals under her care – whom she had failed, utterly.

With a wave of her hooves, she cast a small fire – not quite large enough to last, but not small enough to merely light the room. It was warm, and warmth was all she and the foals needed as they awaited the inevitable embrace of death, as the howls of the wind and predators blurred into one.

“Hush now, quiet now, little one,” she cooed, holding one of the foals – the smaller of the two, a filly whose coat and mane were coloured blue, with a faintly star-like shimmer in her mane. “The Allfather will be here soon, and you and your sister will be safe.”

The other foal, the elder of the two, snuggled against her side. Her coat was of the purest white, whiter than the snow beneath them, with a light pink mane. She wasn’t much larger than the other, but Lilja believed, from the tone of their previous caretakers, that she was meant to be the elder sister.

Apart from their wings, and horns, the two foals were much like the Allfather’s granddaughters and yet, at the same time, a pair of curious little children, whose parents remained unknown, and whose purposes are yet to be revealed.

Lilja wondered, if she would find peace amidst their jaws, to be a part of the circle of life as the Allfather himself taught. The windigo’s touch was worsening, she knew, and she felt the urge to embrace them in death.

The children, the pair of foals she protects, however, they were untouched, untainted. They needed to live.

She staggered to her hooves, gently setting the foals to the warmest corner of the hut’s remnants. They were close to Adlaborn, so very close, for the frozen air was touched with her kind’s own magical trail.

Around them, invisible to all eyes but the wisest of the mages, lay an interwoven web of magical energy centred at Zamok Ustyag, the Great Northern Mountain from whence all distances in Equus were measured – and the castle of the Allfather.

Slowly, she unlatched her necklace, a gift from the Allfather for her task. Shaped in a snowflake’s form, greatly resembling his elder granddaughter’s sigil, it was a beacon, a signal to use in times of need and danger.

She chuckled grimly – they were close to their destination, but a false move, an inopportune timing would lead to their deaths.

Nevertheless, it was her only option.

With a graceful, smooth twirl, she cast her necklace off, where it floated in the cold night’s air. The two foals were no longer asleep, for their gaze were fixed on the enchantingly beautiful necklace – before it soared in the air, and activated.

The air became still, and Lilja held the foals close to her, tensely waiting the arrival of either their pursuers or safety.

The growl of wolves, not too far from their shelter brought a sense of dread to her, failure and all – but the sound of tinkling bells was all the more welcome, for help had arrived.

A shimmering curtain of light shone down unto the tundra, and Lilja smiled as she heard the two foals giggle and laugh in awe of the Northern Lights. The storm began to dissipate, as the innate magic of Adlaborn coursed through the frozen tundra, a series of defenses meant to ward off the evil lying in wait.

The magic wielded by her kind much unlike those wielded by the unicorn mages of Equestria, for they sought to control nature – and the Reindeer flowed with it, like water in a gentle stream.

Around them, Lilja heard the distinctive whistling noise of Reindeer magic, her brethren meticulously yet gracefully clearing the area around. Foals by her side, she gazed out the hole – where the distant silhouettes of wolves and bears disappeared into the surrounding wilderness. The windigos were the last ones to remain, and one by one, they too departed into the night sky.

At last, she, and her charge, emerged from their shelter. The snow remained thick, and deep, but the raging clouds no longer cast a looming snowstorm over them, and she was delighted to see Gerda and Kai, the twin holiday stars, twinkling over them.

They were safe.

A healer doe came by her side, while another took the two foals into her care. She waved weakly, a faint goodbye to the two beautiful children she had risked her life for.

Of all those present here, none brought more comfort than the large, magnificent stag that stood before her. With a coat as red as the first light of dawn, beard and mane silver as the first winter ice, and ancient, weathered antlers larger than any other stag, the Starstrider was truly a sight to behold.

And yet, he felt as warm as any of them were.

“Lilja,” Sint Erklass spoke softly, kindly. “Welcome home.”

Deep underneath Zamok Ustyag, an ancient being stirred. They were close, so very close to freeing it at last. But to no avail, for the accursed deer had managed to drive even the windigos away.

The wolves, hounds, and windigos had failed, and so it remained, trapped. The foals, they too had evaded its underlings, when they had been holed up within arm’s length inside that lodge. Them and that foolish doe.

“Evening,” the Allfather spoke, calmly. His tone was even, without bitterness. But without that distinctive warmth either.

The Krampus considered to the great stag before it.

“Starstrider…” The ashen, fouled snow beneath it stirred as two old foes faced each other once again. “You have won… nothing.”

The millennia-old Reindeer took a calming breath.

“If it’s all the same, the foals are safe,” he said firmly. “Lilja has done her duty for them, and she will recover soon enough. Might I ask, how has the winter treated you this year?”

“The frost bites my skin,” the Krampus said softly. “The days are dark and the nights are cold… such a wonderful reminder, that this here is a world lost in the infinite, uncaring void of space... and it is not I alone who am contained within a fragile globe which could shatter at any time…”

It paused.

“So, they have come at last,” the being mused. “Those children who shall grow up to carry the Sun and the Moon of a broken, wounded planet.”

Far, far above Sint lay the cell that held the Krampus, shaped in the form of a translucent globe, yet the eternal snowstorm which raged within made it nigh impossible for him to distinguish the figure of his prisoner. All he could ever make out, and barely, was the blurred, shadowy outline of its horns, and claws pressed against the surface...

And sometimes a golden, piercing eye of cynicism.

Sint coughed. “I assumed it was little use to pretend otherwise, knowing how soon you would find out for yourself,” he told the being, meeting its all-seeing gaze, and at the same time, dreading it, for the Krampus held powers even he did not possess.

Of course, what harm could such sight wreak, so long as it remained imprisoned?

“The foals are safe, Lilja will live to see another day,” Sint said, willing himself to keep his tone steady. “And in Vologda they will remain, where they will be safe until the time comes.”

“The time comes for… what, precisely?” the being replied, its eye narrowing ever so slightly. “For them to unite the tribes led astray? Tell me, were they meant to lead? Were they ever meant to be more than tools, to guide the spheres in the skies of dawn and dusk, when the celestial stones you gave to ponykind could do that job just as well?”

The stag smiled kindly.

“With each thought and every memory formed, the two foals become closer to people than mere tools, Krampus. I shall not subject them to a lifetime of cycling the sun and moon in the sky. If they were meant to be as such, they would have been formed as impassive and unchanging as the stones. They will lead the tribes, with kindness and humility, and of their own volition. Perhaps they will make poor decisions, but perhaps not. My dear granddaughters shall see to it that they are raised, with care and compassion, and not just through hardship and test of mettle.”

He remained calm, even as the Krampus’s claws made such a terrible noise against the enchanted glass. The never-ending storm within recoiled, and tendrils of ice and snow wrapped around the writhing being, dragging it back down unto the bottom of the globe towards iron long since discarded. Yet its silhouette continued to face him, bent over and hunched in malice.

“With centuries of strife, bloodshed, chaos, and upheaval, perhaps a change in the wind is everything we need, after all!”

The ancient being snarled, glaring at the stag.“You know not what you do, you foolish buck.”

He inclined his head, with a merry, yet sad, smile.

“Have a good evening, Krampus.”

“We shall see,” the Krampus replied somberly. “We shall see.”

I - Two Sisters

“No.”

“Anna–”

“I said no, Grandfather. No, no, no, N. O. NO. No. I don’t want them here.”

“Your sister has given her blessing, Anna,” the old, dark red stag told her, in that frustratingly patient and calm tone of his. “Please, consider this–”

“What else do I need to consider, Grandfather?” Anna hotly replied. She was unhappy. Unhappy to have been kept in the dark by Lilja, by her grandfather, even by her own sister. But now, she found herself unable to express her building anger anymore than by raising her voice. “You saw what happened out there, Lilja could’ve lost her life!”

“Lilja volunteered, and was ready to give her life for the children, Anna,” Grandfather said. “They will be here for their protection. Equestria is not yet safe.”

“Equestria. But don’t you see?” Anna said, straining not to accidentally upset her grandfather. “The ponies, they drew the Windigos, the wolves and the griffons to their lands by their own resentment! Even in its captivity, the Krampus would have spread an unending frozen wasteland throughout the world! Why should we bear this burden now? We’ve got our own share of problems, and they expect us to solve theirs?”

“Someone has to,” Grandfather said. “We can’t wait for their problems to be solved. For something else to arise and fix all of it. If not us, then who?”

She stomped a hoof on the stone floor, huffing.

“Find someplace else to host them, please. Aren’t we, as a people, meant to be all about giving? Then give them to someone else!”

“But aren’t we all someone else to someone else?” Grandfather mused.

“These are troubled times for Adlaborn a-a-and you’re going to be bringing these, these two foals here? In your castle?”

“Yes,” Sint Erklass replied, warmly. He looked over to Anna, in the paternal manner become so familiar to her. It was sickeningly kind, more so than ever, in a way that just seemed to expose the core of any of her arguments. “Anna, you must understand, these foals were already given to their people by a power quite different from mine. Now they’ve been given to us, so that one day, we may teach them to give as well. All the world shall grow a little richer and joyful for it.”

“I’m sorry,” Anna said, firmly, one hoof out the doorway. “You asked for my blessing, and the answer is no.”

She scarcely heard her grandfather call out to her, down the hall.

The moon hung low over Adlaborn, its silvery glow providing comfort and wonder for the various inhabitants of the lands below. From the fawns, looking up towards the stars from their family dwellings woven from living trees, to the nighttime workers and the young lovers in the intricately carved pathways, all felt it to be a strangely beautiful night, much different from the raging storms of the day before.

For Anna Erklass, staring out from between the arches of the castle walkway, however, the moon’s ethereal beauty held no sway, and she looked at it with a sense of foreboding. Far up here, where there were no trees, save for the one at the very top of this tallest peak in the world, there were also few distractions out-of-doors. Nothing except the path up the mountain, upon which a thousand pilgrims might seek to pay her grandfather a visit all year long.

Thankfully, for Anna, it was a quiet evening, and the only one traversing the path on this particular night was herself. And the long, winding pathway down Zamok Ustyag would scarcely represent a challenge to the energetic doe, who always prided herself in tackling such challenges.

In a moment, Anna forgot her grievances with her grandfather, gracefully leaping off the walkway and into the open air.

The feeling was exhilarating, the sudden winds brushing against the fur of her coat as she gave herself up to the pull of the earth, letting it take her where it would... yet confident of her capacity to determine her own fate, the air currents brushing lightly upon the soles of her outstretched hooves.

And her forehooves touched down on a rocky outcrop jutting from the mountain. She didn’t stop. Again, with near as much elan, she leapt from a narrower, more jagged space than where she’d started, onto a narrow jagged space. Back, then forth, a little further down each time, relishing the flow of strength from her rump to her hindlegs.

‘I was born to do this,’ Anna jubilated. ‘Walking in the air.’

Thus she glided from outcrop to outcrop, down the mountain’s slope. At last, in a final leap, she landed in a clearing halfway along the path, not a single hair out of place. Panting, she briskly trotted to the lamppost at the centre of the clearing, and brushed away a patch of snow, so she had a place to sit. Her light brown coat shimmered faintly in the lantern’s light, while deep in thought, she gazed towards the valley below.

There, in the distance, as far as her eyes could see, even by the foreign light, lay the grand city of Vologda, heart of Adlaborn, and northernmost metropolis in all of Equus.

Trees filled the city, immense pines and firs, filled with luminescence which made them glow like crystal. Hung from their glowing branches were gems that only added to the beauty of the display, as though the light and splendour of the Solstice were present all the year round. The streets shone with the same glow, and even from up here, she could tell the stags’ antlers and all Reindeer’s shining fur held the same light, as though the very people of this realm were full of light and cheer.

‘Hah, if only,’ she thought.

The buildings looked less like they had been built upon the ground, and more like wooden growths that had burst from the ground, ornate shapes already fresh-grown into the skin of the buildings – decorations and symbols and lines carved into the wood, creating patterns that weaved and danced along walls and pillars. The same beautiful glow seemed infused in these lines, webs and pathways in the wood of shimmering light.

And within the city, though unseen, the joyous cheers of fawns were heard filling the night’s air with love and affection, in gatherings with friends and family alike to celebrate another year lived and enjoyed.

Of course, reminiscing over the beautiful city, Anna thought, only served to detract from her main concerns. The foals. Those two, unwanted, unneeded foals, whose parents had abandoned, or fostered upon her people as new charges, new burdens.

Ponies were a curious bunch. They had settled down south, those three tribes. The pegasi to master the skies, the earthponies to till the soil, and the unicorns to wield magic. None ventured this far north, for they were too busily occupied with their petty squabbles over in their lands. And now, here they came, those two foals.

Yet Anna Erklass remained sure of their folly, for no two unicorn foals could possibly be this important. What secrets did they hold, for Sint Erklass himself to deny her knowledge, to deny her pleas to let them be sent off somewhere that wasn’t his own family home? She sat back, letting out a long sigh. There was no convincing her grandfather, nor her sister otherwise. Not even Lilja. After all, her mentor had been the one to risk her life for the foals’ sake. Which only left her, Anna, to seclude herself in her room or her workshop, with nought but her fireworks for company.

Fireworks, yes, those would do the trick, Anna mused fondly. Dragons, clusters and sparks, flameless and all the colours of the rainbow! Oh, the wonders and joy it would bring, to deer young and old alike, these darker times notwithstanding. And the cake too, she remembered. She’d love a slice or two of the cook’s famed chocolate cakes. Exotic, delicious, exquisite, the absolute best companion in her work. Nothing did better to relieve stress than sweet, sweet chocolate.

She laughed, with more warmth than she’d felt these past few days. Soon she would be right at home in her workshop, crafting and brewing.

Perfect.

Anna staggered to her feet, brushing away a strand of reddish-brown mane, shrugging off the snowdust piled on her muzzle, and stood more confident than ever, a sure smile upon her face. Off she’d go, to work her mag–

“Good evening, Anna,”

Her sister’s voice appeared so suddenly that it caused Anna to stumble with an embarrassed little gasp, swaying on her hooves.

Elsa was, at any time, a doe of breathtaking complexion, with her majestic silver-blue coat adorned by the purest white mane. On this fine evening, shimmering beneath the lanternlight, however, she looked an angel in midwinter. Her icy blue gaze fell onto Anna, and she smiled.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Elsa said sweetly.

“Oh, hello, Sis!” Anna answered, a little too abruptly for her own taste. Elsa, to her credit, remained quiet, and Anna wondered, not for the first time, how she could possibly manage her composure so easily. “I, er, yes, I needed time and here I am, hah. Fancy meeting you here! It’s not like anyone gets to meet the Archmage on her evening stroll, right?”

Her sister laughed softly, adjusting her saddlebags.

“Indeed, Anna,” she said. “But then, it’s not your usual time out here, is it? I would have expected to find you tinkering away in your atelier at this time, hard at work on some new marvel. I must say, I might just be more surprised to meet you than you are to meet me. So, what brings you to this place?”

“Well, you know,” Anna said, reflectively. “It… hasn’t been an easy week for me, Elsa. Things change faster than I can work with, and Grandfather… Grandfather, he means well, but I need precious time on my own. That’s not saying I don’t welcome you, though.”

She leapt back up to the nearest outcrop, standing firm against the chill winds.

“I mean, what better scenery to think on, than our humble city eh? Hah!”

“Anna!” Elsa called after her, though without such urgency as she might have, for her sister was accustomed to her daredevil antics. “Be careful,” she chided. “Remember that you’ve yet to master walking on the airs.”

Anna playfully stuck out her tongue. “Pfft, I know that! And really, Sis, where’s the fun in that without a little risk? Would jumping from stepping-stone to stepping-stone on a pool of water be the same if we could just walk on the stuff?”

“You could fall,” Elsa said quietly.

“No, I won’t,” Anna smiled. “Because I know you’ll always be there to catch me.”

There was silence, at first. Then, slowly, Elsa let out a sweet, merry laugh, joined in by Anna’s own guffaws.

But the merriment cut short when Anna caught sight of two tiny figures sitting in the snow beneath her sister, giving her the most curious of stares.

They were ponies.

Anna stumbled from her pedestal, tumbling into the clearing. She gasped, hooves slipping as if on slush, struggling to focus on the two foals who kept their stares leveled at her own. For the most part, they were quiet, leaving an awkward silence hanging between them all.

“Anna?” Elsa said, finally breaking the ice. “Are you alright? You looked as if you’d seen a ghoul, there.”

“Me? I’m alright,” Anna stammered out. “It’s, it’s just… what’re they doing here?”

Her sister looked at her, confused, before those icy blue eyes of hers widened in realisation.

“Oh, Celestia and Luna?” Elsa said, and both foals turned to look towards her at the same time. It was then that Anna noticed, in addition to their single horn, they possessed a pair of wings, making them look like a hybrid of pegasus and a unicorn. She found it quite unsettling.

One of them, one with a pure white coat, contrasted by its pink mane, approached her with delicate steps, a curious tilt of the head. It was teeny, scarcely reaching up to Elsa’s knee, but unlike any other foal, Anna thought, this one seemed to have grown much faster, if she’d heard it true that these foals had been born only a week ago. The other one, a dark blue foal, its mane a lighter shade of blue, approached her too, with an outstretched hoof.

Anna might have recoiled, but on second thought, recoiling from these small creatures would have been an embarrassment in front of her older sister.

The blue foal – now that Anna thought of it, probably a filly – patted her, timidly, but with the elegance of a curious young fawn. The little foal turned to look at Elsa, as its, or would that be her sibling, sat itself next to Anna.

“Wh-who?” she inquired to Elsa, with a pat or two for emphasis.

“Anna, dear Luna,” Elsa replied, smiling to the blue foal. The foal, Luna, nodded. The other foal, probably none other than the aforementioned ‘Celestia’, looked up.

“An-na?” she repeated, to an encouraging nod from Elsa. There was a light magenta tint to her eyes, lending them an older, worldier look, which Anna realised she found quite fetching, much to her own chagrin.

“She is my sister, as Luna is yours,” Elsa said. The white, older foal looked over to her sister curiously, whereupon the blue, younger foal stuck her tongue out. To Anna’s great surprise, this elicited a fond laugh from her own sister.

“Quite the charming bunch, aren’t they?” she said kindly, when beneath her, the two little foals started to wrestle one another in the soft blanket of snow.

“Er… yes, I think?” Anna replied, unsurely. The blue foal had taken to hiding behind her hindlegs, staring at the white one from between them. The other foal, thwarted, satdown with a pout.

“Say, Elsa?” Anna gingerly asked, carefully trying not to step onto the foal behind her. “What, what brings you here, Elsa? I uh, don’t suppose this is a usual path for you?”

“There’s somepony they need to meet, Anna,” Elsa replied, pointing a hoof towards a fork on the pathway. Said pathway, Anna observed, led to the West Face of Zamok Ustyag, a pathway rarely used by anyone apart from her grandfather, and now, it would seem, Elsa his Snow Maiden.

‘Somepony they need to meet…’

The old hermit who resided on Zamok Ustyag was an enigmatic figure for Anna. She had never seen the mare, though her grandfather oft mentioned a withering figure, secluded from watchful eyes. He spoke of her as someone who had seen the time before the Windigos, a time only remembered in hushed whispers and dreams, of a land long faded into memory.

Anna knew, of course, that Sint Erklass thought of Firefly as someone who must have been as old as the tales of Dream Valley.

And it intrigued her.

“Are you coming with us?”

Once more, Elsa’s voice broke her chain of thought, and she looked over to where her always-refined sister stood, with the foals in tow. A hoof set on the gravel path, an inviting gaze and smile upon her face. And the foals, they too looked her way, pleadingly, as if they wanted her to come.

“I…” Anna said, trailing off in hesitation. It was a tempting offer, she admitted, but still she doubted if time spent with her sister in this foreign abode, spent with this mare, would be worth as much as time spent with her fireworks and her friends in Vologda.

Her doubts were left unanswered, for the night was still young, and Anna Erklass now felt more adventurous than worried.

Firefly, Anna decided, was a very odd mare.

“Lonesome night,” Firefly commented, leaning forward unsteadily from her wicker seat to give another stir to the contents of her pot, warmed by the soft glowing embers of her hearth. “Winds a’howling, wind like this full of voices, the ancestry yibberin’ at you, yibberin’ stories, more than one of anything, all voices tied up in one… that is truth.”

The elderly pegasus frowned. “One voice stands apart, disappointed. Drawin’ breath deep in the bowels of this very mountain, a devil in plain sight. Aye, I remember when last I looked upon a devil’s face. Back when, a child helper I brought from afar, from beyond the rainbow. Twas a different devil, then, but driven by alike hungers… Are these two new children come to help again?”

‘These are the ramblings of an old mare,’ Anna thought. Notwithstanding her age, of course, but even her grandfather possessed a far sharper mind. ‘Could she be… senile?’

Firefly even looked the part, really. This mare was so withered, so aged, her colours so faded into greyness, that Anna wondered if one big gust of wind would suffice to scatter her amongst it. Even the longest-lived ponies kept some vestige of their vibrant, vaguely unnatural color.

Elsa, whether she made head or tail of this nonsense, replied.

“Yes, Firefly,” she said quietly. “They are. This is the moment you have waited for in all your autumn years, since your kinsfolk fell into disarray, and you were invited to live amongst us.” She smiled, just a little. “It is done.”

Firefly stood up, reaching for her cane by the side of her seat.

“I’d like to see them, Your Highness,” the old pegasus whispered. “My eyes are not what they once were.”

Nodding, Elsa gently nudged the fillies forward. Luna looked up at her in askance, but Celestia seemed rather pleased at having received someone else’s attention.

“It’s alright,” Elsa told Luna kindly, “She’s a pony. Just like you. Like your sister.”

Firefly glanced at her. “I take it they’ve not yet seen…?”

“No,” said Elsa, wistfully. “They were born, if that is the right word, as infants are, with their eyes closed. It was not in that cave that they looked upon the world, when three of their brethren at last could open their eyes.” She paused. “Starswirl’s faithful student sent us the call, and we answered. Lilja was the first being whom they saw.”

“Aah… then I am the first pony they’ve seen,” groaned Firefly, her voice reedy, and sorrowful, brushing back a tuft of mane that may once have been blue, but was now so faded as to be almost white. She gazed at Luna and Celestia, the gentility in her stare belying the weight of ages. “Ah, you will discover the world a lot sooner than you may think, little ponies. This here mountain is just a small part of it. And I belong to a world which has had its day...”

Giggling, Celestia sauntered forward, apparently unheeding of the mare’s words. Her pink mane messily flapping behind her, she took a great leap, one that Anna would have envied at such a young age, to jump into Firefly’s lap.

Fortunately, the pegasus was aged, not feeble.

“Oof!” she chuckled, dropping her cane. “You’re a scamp, you are.” She wrapped her forehooves around the laughing Celestia, who eagerly returned the hug.

Still hesitant, the younger filly, Luna trotted forward. Smiling, Firefly made room for her, carefully keeping one forehoof around the older filly while she welcomed the night-coloured child in the embrace of her other forehoof. Luna didn’t immediately take to the hug as her older sister had, but she did nuzzle her forehead to the mare’s chin.

Firefly bobbed them, as much as her worn joints could. “Hm,” she commented. “Bit chubby, isn’t she, the older one?”

Elsa had to grin. “That’s hardly surprising. You should have been there after Lilja made her return, when we fed these girls. The amount of cake she stuffed herself with, we honestly thought she might explode!”

Adroitly, Firefly’s forehoof holding Celestia reached down to tickle her belly, and the filly gurgled with delight.

“Oh, little one, I could just eat you alive,” Firefly said fondly.

On the inside, Anna felt she should have been touched by the spectacle, of this last mare from a bygone era being granted the chance to, literally, cradle the future of her people in her lap.

But she only saw danger. The unknown. The old and the forgotten. Remnants of a time that had been ancient when Firefly was a foal.

“Are you afraid, dear?” Firefly suddenly intoned.

“Sorry, I must have…” said Anna, wistful. “Drifted off.”

“That’s alright. We all have these little moments, don’t we?” Firefly said, with a mirthful chuckle to follow. “When you reach my age, and are not gifted with the longevity of one like your grandfather, past and present… bleed into one another. Believe me, Anna Erklass, though I may find it hard to remember yesterday, scenes from long ago are fresh in my mind…”

“... I suppose I am afraid,” said Anna. Her sister glared worryingly at her, though she wasn’t sure if it was meant for her, or the two foals. “Your kind, they… haven’t proven themselves, to be stable, nor peaceful.”

“Anna!” Elsa protested.

Again, a look of sadness crossed Firefly’s face. “We had hoped… my friend and I…”

Firefly’s voice did not so much trail off as die in her throat.

“Your friend?” Anna repeated, suddenly feeling a heaviness on her heart. Her tone become a lot softer, and slower, as awareness crept in of how old this mare must be, and how lonely. “Who are you, Firefly?”

The elderly pegasus shook her head solemnly. “I am but a mare named Firefly,” she told them. “Old enough to recall a time when ponies sought refuge in abandoned castles together, yet did not know how to build them to keep each other out. From before we wove clothing as protection against the cold or the sun’s heat, we wove dreams in our home valley.”

“Dream Valley...” Suddenly, Anna gasped. “Wait, old, abandoned castles? You’re… from that long ago in Dream Valley?”

“Of course I am,” Firefly said, almost dismissively.

“But then,” Anna said, sums racing through her mind, “You would have to be… ancient.”

“What, did you think I was a young filly?” Firefly asked, bemused.

“No, but… but…” Anna stuttered. “This would make you older than any pony alive! Older than we even knew ponies could be alive! How are you…”

“Who knows?” Firefly asked. “A blessing of the rainbow that allows me to carry on knowledge. A final, spiteful curse of that old devil, which lets me stand while my friends withered and fell. It could be either.”

Anna looked the mare over. Considered the things that she must have seen. The evacuation of what had once been the home of ponykind, now a forgotten valley far across the Celestial Sea, beyond the Burnt Griffon Straits that divided Griffonstone and the Dragon Lands. The being from beyond the stars that had come to help. The dread presence of Tirek.

“Ponykind has fallen twice,” Firefly said. “Once, before living memory. Sint knows of it well, although he’d rather not discuss it. Once when we left Dream Valley. I’ve seen it suggested that the Windigos make the third, though they only exacerbated a crisis of our own making. Knowledge has elevated us, yes, but the will to power divides us, and knowledge is a power unto itself… and we all lacked wisdom.”

Firefly stroked both fillies’ heads as if they were the greatest gifts in the world. Maybe to her, the thought struck Anna, they were. All at once, she began to feel shame at her demand that Grandfather give the fillies away.

“The will to power?”

Elsa was the one who’d spoken. Anna glanced away from the mare and the fillies, gazing with growing apprehension at her sister’s face. Something about Elsa’s tone as she echoed those words, something harsh, knowing, did not comfort her one bit.

“Elsa?” Anna asked. “What’s the matter?”

It came as no surprise for her to see that Elsa was frowning. What did surprise Anna, though, was how quickly the other doe’s expression changed back to its usual placid, composed self.

“Nothing… just the second time I’ve heard that tonight,” Elsa told her.

Calmly, but the sort of calm which Anna knew meant something quite different, coming from the Snow Maiden. She glanced towards Firefly, Celestia and Luna. All three ponies were busy basking in each other’s warmth. Luna tugged at a tuft of Firefly’s mane.

“The Krampus?” Anna whispered.

Elsa nodded indistinctly. “Yes. Who, or what else could have sent those storms? We work tirelessly to keep cold hearts at bay, yet still the Windigos subsist in these lands where the cold is all year-long.”

“Those storms?” Anna shot a quick glance at Luna and Celestia. “That’s how Lilja nearly died last night, bringing in those fillies. What are they to the Krampus?”

“Oh, Anna…” Elsa said softly, wistfully. “Haven’t you guessed?”

She had thought these were mere unicorns, until she saw their wings…

“Alicorns?”

Elsa’s eye shone faintly. “Delivered into this world, at the very moment three ponies from the tribes made peace in a winter-beset cave. When the magic of warmed hearts beat back the Windigos.” She paused, contemplative. “Yet not all is well, not yet. The Krampus yearns to be free, to reveal to us all what it sees as the one, awful truth…”

“Elsa,” Anna said, trying not to speak too fast, not knowing if it was impatience or curiosity which hurried her along. “Why alicorns? Why do the ponies need to build this newfound ‘peace’ of theirs on erasing their differences, rather than embracing them?”

“Because Grandfather believes that these filly alicorns shall grow up to carry the Sun and the Moon.” Elsa breathed in. “And when that happens, their light will shine so bright, the Krampus shall never again be able to bring endless winter.”

Firefly laughed. “Little dots of light… stuck on that big blue thing…”

Both Reindeer’s ears perked up in surprise. “Excuse me?” they said in unison.

“Nothin’,” Firefly said cheerfully. Anna thought some of the usual vacancy seemed to have returned in her posture. “Just tellin’ the girls, that’s what fireflies really are, akin to tiny, tiny stars, because you know, stars are really, really big, really… just like these little ponies are gonna be really big one day. Bigger than any pony in heart and body.”

“Anna?” Elsa suggested. “What say you we have a toast to that?”

“To what?”

“Why,” Elsa grinned mischievously, “to being big.” She had left her saddlebags by the door. Until now, Anna had forgotten all about it, and its mysterious contents.

Mysterious no more, she thought with glee, when Elsa revealed it to be filled with chocolate cake, made only with the most exotic chocolate, brewed to perfection, as they should be.

With barely restrained joy, she accepted Elsa’s offering on an outstretched plate, smacking her lips excitedly.

“Oh Elsa,” she said, giggling. “How thoughtful of you!”

“How could I forget your fondness for these, Sister,” replied Elsa, smiling. “Can’t have a gathering without some snacks now can’t we? Enjoy.”

“Well then, Princess,” Firefly replied, smiling. “I suppose it falls unto you and Elsa to guide these little rascals, of course.”

“Perhaps,” said Anna. She smiled, as she lifted up her plate. “To your good health, Firefly.”

Before she could eat her precious, chocolate-filled delight, however, little Celestia hopped onto her lap – and snatched her piece.

“HEY!” exclaimed Anna. “Give it back!”

Celestia shook her head, wrapping her hooves protectively around her loot. Her tiny horn lit up defensively, or as defensive as a barely week-old foal could muster.

Aggressively, Anna reached out a hoof, huffing.

“Listen here, you,” she hissed. “I’ve had a less-than-stellar week, and I would very much appreciate it, young miss, if you would… give... it–”

Her words died in her throat when, in one, giant gulp, the cheeky little foal devoured her ill-gotten slice whole. Celestia giggled, stroking her tummy, a trickle of chocolate staining the corners of her mouth.

Anna was incensed. She stomped down hard, advancing towards this impudent girl, the air slowly lighting up with her aura.

“Why,” she growled, “you stuck-up, entitled, scruffy, pinheaded–”

“Anna, that’s enough.”

Her sister’s voice brought Anna back unto reality. And she recoiled at the sight of her uncharacteristically livid sister, and the frightened look Luna gave from behind Elsa, and Celestia curled up in a tiny ball.

But before Elsa could blurt out one of her very rare, very lengthy lectures, Firefly spoke up.

“Elsa, please,” she said, calmly. “Do not weigh yourself upon Anna, she’s had enough on her plate as it is, my dear.”

“But–”

“I know you wish the best for your sister,” the old mare said, firmly. For Anna, this was the most sober she’d heard her, and it was uncanny. “But do not force your thoughts onto her. Let her see for herself, and think for herself. I’m sure you’d be much angry if someone were to take your own slice, wouldn’t you agree?”

Her weathered gaze fell onto Anna, and suddenly, the Reindeer princess felt very, very small, a guilty child caught out by her parents.

“Firefly, I–” she began, but Firefly dismissed her, chortling.

“It's alright, dear,” she said, reassuringly. “We all hold our own prejudices, and I do not blame you for your fears. We have our secrets too. But, I hope you, and Elsa, will be able to guide the little princesses on their journey."

She shuffled closer to Anna, an outstretched, comforting hoof. The doe looked on over to her sister, who looked somewhat lost.

“I need to go,” Anna finally said. “Not, not outside but… I need time.”

“That’s fine by me,” Firefly said, quieting Elsa, who had opened her mouth. “Take your time, I’ll be here, with your sister.”

Without another word, Anna left the room.

Petty. That was the word.

Even at her age, a full-grown doe, a Princess of Adlaborn, Anna realised she was still quite petty. The filly knew no better, and to punish her over a small piece of cake was unfathomably petty.

There she was, drifting from room to room. Firefly’s abode wasn’t grand nor filled with bygone treasures as she had hoped. Nonetheless, it had a certain touch to it which testified to its owner’s age. It was carved out of Zamok Ustyag’s rocky slope, a small dwelling compared to the castle perched high up on the peak, but Anna could feel its many years as she traced a hoof alongside the staircase, its twisted, rocky design a harsh contrast towards her grandfather’s castle.

Nevertheless, it felt like a home.

The staircase, she found, led to a small room at the very top, with an intricately carved wooden floor, and bookcases stacked against the circular walls. A delicate, firm wooden table, lit by a candle, sat in the centre, lined with soft cushions.

With a heavy sigh, Anna collapsed unto one, resting her muzzle against the table.

Firefly was kind enough, yes, if a little senile and odd. A single mare would not make a difference, though, for Equestria remained divided, squabbling, even after the birth of these two foals, these two innocent, enigmatic foals.

She was petty, and her sister’s disappointment saw to that. But Anna knew better, for the impudent foal had deprived her of what comfort she had these past few days.

Some shining example she was, to explode in anger over such petty matters.

Her back-and-forth thoughts were interrupted by the shuffling of hooves, the ruffle of feathers, and the clinking of plates. Anna turned round just in time to see a little blue foal drag a plate with her, stacked with, she gasped, a few slices of chocolate cake.

Luna panted, leaning against the nearest bookcase, before her gaze locked with Anna’s own.

“... Hello?” greeted Anna.

The blue foal said nothing, merely nudging the plate closer to her, and pointed a hoof at a slice.

“Cake?” she murmured.

Anna smiled.

“Cake.” she replied, and in one swift motion, she dragged the plate and Luna closer to her. But before she, and little Luna, could eat together, another interruption came their way – in the shape of Celestia climbing up the staircase.

“So-rry,” the white foal said, ruffling her feathers. And with a spark of her horn, she levitated yet another plate, with a slice on top.

So very young, and already able to walk and talk, fly and use magic? What other talents did these two have hidden? Were they also gifted with the earthponies’ powers over the soil, the plants and the beasts of the field? A vision of freshly-grown sodium and saltpetre crossed her eye, of what spectacular fireworks she could make with assistance from children such as these…

Except, of course, that underage children shouldn’t go anywhere near fireworks. Ah, well. Maybe that would have been hurrying things along, anyway.

“That’s alright, little one,” Anna said, not unkindly. “Come.”

And Celestia did.

They ate in silence, the quiet night and the candlelit table their company.

Until Anna finished, turned, and saw the Snow Maiden watching them quietly. She looked over them, a kind look upon those icy blue eyes of hers.

“Care to join in, Elsa?” asked Anna, and the other doe obliged, smiling.

“I’ll be happy to do so, Anna,” she replied, fondly, as Luna nuzzled against her. “How are you feeling now?”

“Well… worried, still,” said Anna. But a look from Celestia, an innocent, yet thoughtful look, gave her heart a flutter. “Still, I am sure that they’ll turn out alright, what with you around.”

“What with us around, of course.” Elsa corrected her, softly.

Anna laughed, and all was good, then.

The message carried across the winds, borne aloft by the warmth of it what it beheld, now fearing no hindrance from the deathly cold which for too long had besieged the world. It travelled down South, past the remains of the Coal Realm, rendered dormant and quite peaceably devoid of life since the capture of its erstwhile master, past the mountains of where it was said “here be dragons”, though no dragon had ever come forward to claim residence, not that any dragon would bother with a formal claim, and further down yet, into the lands of ponies. There, in the heartland, did it split into a triptych, and pursued its way into three different directions.

One piece blew forth to the nebulous East, into the lands of the pegasi.

One travelled on to the fertile grounds of the South, home of earthponies.

One swerved sharply towards the coast, ever the region of the unicorns.

There did this last of three messages, all the same, find its destination in the hooves of royalty.

“It is well done, then,” said Princess Platinum, reading through the contents of Sint Erklass’ missive once more. “As we agreed upon with our newfound countryfolk, the two sisters shall be raised, until they are of age, in a place of safety.”

Stepping away from the windowsill, through which she had watched in silence as light snows continued to fall and melt in her father’s courtyard, she folded up the letter.

“Clover still tells me it is for the best,” Platinum said, “and so long as I back her up, she’s got Father’s ear on the matter. But you know he won’t so easily change his tune about one thing. Until all is settled, we require leverage over the other two tribes. In all honesty, cousin, I believe luring Starswirl back from exile is what he hopes for most.”

Picking a grape from a nearby bowl and eyeing it critically, Polaris, Duke Blueblood, shook his head.

“The old stallion made his reasons very clear, before leaving,” he commented ruefully. “Harmony, as an ideal to strive for, not just amongst ourselves as unicorns, but all ponies. No doubt he’d welcome the arrival of these unusual fillies… only…” Blueblood sighed. “We have a long way to go, isn’t that right, Platts? Already now, back to scheming and conniving, calculating which of our three gifts the children will like best when we go visit them on the Summer Solstice…”

“That is, supposing there shall be a Summer Solstice,” said Platinum, blowing her cheeks. “Although Clover, my ever-so sagacious advisor, may speak of how the Great Work begins, we are not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot.”

Blueblood smiled at her appeasingly. “And yet, my dear cousin, we’ve been given cause for hope, if you could find it in yourself to have a change of heart and persuade Uncle of the wisdom of this enterprise.”

“That might be so…” Slowly falling silent, Platinum laid down the letter by the bowl of grapes, her horn alighting timidly to pluck one as her royal cousin had. It sputtered and died, grape falling back into the bowl, as her thoughts overtook her.

“Platts?” Blueblood asked quietly, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “You look concerned. More concerned than about simple politics, I mean. What exactly is the matter?”

“I’d have liked to see them again,” Platinum said, her hooves laid out on the table, upon which she was staring down. “Those two extraordinary fillies. But that is not for me to do, not while there’s so much work left to be done, way down here. Months to go before the Solstice, and still I envy you, Polaris.”

He might have tried smiling again. Instead, he laid a comforting forehoof on her own.

“Don’t,” Blueblood told her gently. “Chances are, even given what may change for the better until then, this won’t be a visit purely for the sake of family and friendship. Uncle’ll want me to follow his political mandate, in whatever small capacity I can wrangle, as expected of a loyal Prince of the Realm.”

Platinum nudged him in the ribs, though it was half-hearted. “Of course. And I imagine the newfound chance to test the waters for your exotic tastes has nothing to do with it? See if the Allfather’s granddaughter, this mystical Snow Maiden of his, is as otherworldly beautiful as the tales tell she is.”

It provided her some delight to see him flush at that. “Why, Princess Platinum,” Blueblood said in a tone of assumed straight-lacedness, “such behaviour would be most uncourtly!”

Platinum chuckled lightly, picking the decanter which the butler had earlier left on the table. “Have no fear,” she said, pouring him a glass, “I have it on good authority, the Reindeer do not hold with the same fusty rituals of unicorn courtship.”

The princess gave Blueblood a teasing wink.

“Theirs is a different culture, my friend. If you can pluck the courage to ask a girl out, just ask her. You’ll quickly know whether you’re looking up a one-way path or not, no pointless side-tracks.”

“And how do I know?”

“That’s for you to decide,” Platinum concluded, heading out with a sweep of her newly-tailored red-blue-and-yellow dress, symbolising the future unity of Equestria. “Although, a word of advice, cousin. Remember that up there, nose-kisses are the norm.”

“I believe I could grow to like it up there,” Blueblood said, a slight smile on his face.