The rain outside fell in buckets, the night sky so dark and lightless that the only illumination came from the occasional jags of lightning. Up in the sky the storm was so powerful and uncontrolled the local weather station had dissuaded any weather pegasi from even trying to deal with the storm. After all, weather fronts that came from the ocean were natural occurrences and thus not a part of Equestria’s normal design, and thus they had the ability to be so overwhelming that not even the heartiest of pegasi could survive.

The residents of Windswept knew this. The town was named after a pegasus that, centuries ago, had given her life to push away one particularly deadly storm from the area. Since then, however, whenever oceanic squalls came in, the general rule observed by the town was: hunker down and hope for the best. Over the years, military-grade defensive spells were set up by the Mage Guild to protect the village from the lightning strikes and most of the time this succeeded, though there was still some burnt out remains of unlucky homes that showed what happened when the blasts of plasma from above were too powerful even for the magical wards.

It was therefore unthinkable that any living being would be out when squalls came over Windswept. No pony in their right mind would dare to approach the area, much less enter the town. The shields protected things for the most part, but even then, just walking through the main thoroughfare and into any of the buildings was taking a needless risk.

So needless to say, it was strange and attention-grabbing that a cloaked figure walked into Wild Whiskey’s bar. As for Wild himself, he paid the figure no mind, as they had been here before. Ignoring the other barflies on the way in, the figure sat down at a table in the far end of the building, partially obscured by the dark and a perfect place to hide. To hide from what, of course, was the question.

Wild walked over, a tankard carefully balanced on his back. “I figured you would want this,” he told the figure. Said individual reached over and took it in an armored glove mostly obscured by the muddy-brown cloak, and a second later, returned a coin to pay for it. It wasn’t a bit coin, which was Equestria’s currency, but it was clearly made of a valuable metal, so it was acceptable. Besides, it wasn’t the first time the stranger had paid with foreign money and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Non, je préférerais pas.” The response came deliberate and halting, and in Prench. From what Wild knew, that wasn’t the speaker’s native language. He wasn’t even sure that Equish was that person’s native language, either. One time – and only once – the response had come in the kind of Equish that was dated back from the days of the Warring States Era, as if it were more akin to something spoken by Queen Platinum or Princess Luna back before she started modernizing her speech.

He paid it no mind, of course; the stranger was a customer and customers needed to be taken care of. “Care for the usual?”

“Je ne m’attends pas à être ici longtemps,” was the response, and Wild was glad that his wife was from Pearis, as it was the only way he had any clue as to what the figure was speaking.

“Well, I won’t disturb you further,” he told her. “If you’re hungry, we have a corn and potato chowder the wife just made and you’re welcome to it. Likewise, the special room is ready for you.”

“Je suis plus préoccupé par les autres présents.”

“Don’t lose sleep over them. Most of them are regulars, and you know that everypony here will keep confidence. Sure, there’s a few new folks, but I’m sure Bigstomp’ll just stare them into silence, so don’t you fret.”

“Les secrets sont mieux gardés quand personne ne sait qu’ils existent.”

Wild said nothing further except to nod and depart, leaving the figure alone in the dimness.

After a few minutes, a second figure walked in from the rain, shaking herself off. The second figure then removed her cloak, revealing a unicorn mare. Her deep blue cloak drew a contrast with the cream of her coat, lavender mane and leafy-green eyes that seemed quick with a smile. She looked at Wild briefly before heading over to the corner where the first figure sat.

A minute after the unicorn sat down across from the stranger, Wild came over with two steaming bowls of chowder, as well as some freshly baked bread, with sides of clotted butter and honey in a jar. “From my wife,” he explained. “Watercress insisted. Said neither of you two take care of yourselves.”

“Figures she would say that. Well, please inform her that in the Divine Name of Sacred Celestia and our goddesses, we appreciate the gesture. Blessings be upon you.”

“She figured you’d say that, too and told me to tell you, quote, ‘Forget the blessings and just take care of yourself, dear cousin,’ unquote.”

The unicorn laughed. “She worries too much, you know that? But thank her for me, Wild. Really.”

“I will,” Wild promised, then left the two to their own devices.

That done, the unicorn turned back to other present. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Blessed Blade,” she spoke.

“Tu sais que je déteste ce terme.”

“And you know I don’t speak Prench, or whatever you call it in the place where you are from. French, I believe you called it? And would you be so kind as to remove your cloak? You know we are safe here and none would dare to say a thing.”

“Fine, Sister Veronica, if ‘t be true t’ maketh thee comfortable.” The figure finally removed the hood, revealing a face of a creature that none believed existed: a human. With a long, blonde mane and furless skin, she looked unnatural, and this was made all the more so when one looked at her piercing blue eyes. Several in the bar looked at her in disbelief, only for a big dark brown goliath of an earth stallion to stand up and stare at them. Sure enough, they backed down and the stallion in question looked at the human with a knowing smile before turning back to his drink.

The woman nodded in silent thanks to the stallion before silently turning back to Veronica. “Alloweth us receipt with this. Thither is tasks to do,” she stated.

Veronica, a member of the Church of the Alicorns, smiled gently and adjusted her glasses. She had been given the special mission on behalf of the Mother Superior, a mission that was of such world-shattering importance, that it was rumored that not even her Divine Majesty, Princess Celestia, was aware of it. That had been years ago, and in that time, Veronica had been exposed to a world well beyond the bounds of the veronica gardens she tended and that were her namesake. “Please, let us just eat as companions and friends before we get on to work. As Sacred Luna states, ‘we must hear the moon and its melodies if we are to be at peace’.”

“I am content with yond. Mine own road is a lonely one enow,” the human spoke.

The two ate in silence for a while, enjoying the silent companionship save for the steady staccato patter of the rainstorm lashing against the walls of the structure. Finally, the woman finished her meal, and transparent amber liquid dripped from her lips. The wooden mug clattered on the table, the hollow ring signaling its contents were cleared. Pushing her hair back, the woman asked, “Anon then, bid me what is request’d of me by the Church? Praytell, what would thee has’t me perform?”

At that, Veronica reached into her sidesaddle and withdrew a set of papers and a map. “The daughter of a prominent noblepony was captured by one of the few remnants of the Armies of Tirek under the command of a mysterious individual who calls herself the Thorn Witch. Lord Discord states that they have prepared for him and moved into Umberfoal at the south of Equus, well past the Bearless Circle and close to the South Pole. He states that even he cannot go there and though we do not trust him, we are bid to do what we are told. We do not know why the Witch has captured that filly, but we believe that it may involve foal sacrifice.”

“Wherefore the murder of a mewling? Hast any reason been given?”

“None, though Lord Discord believes it may be due to a resurrection ritual for Tirek. Her Magnificence, Princess Twilight, however, thinks it may be due to a chance to resurrect a demon from another world. In any case, Sacred Luna has ordered us to send a troop of Church knights to hunt them down, as the Remnant will be expecting the other military forces.”

“And so thy plan is to venture me in their stead?”

“Your existence is one of the highest secrets of the world, Blessed Blade of Faust,” the cleric said solemnly. “And because of who you serve, your skills are unparalleled by any, save for her Divine Majesty herself.”

The woman shook her head. “No, ‘tis untrue. I have heard rumors that Her Majesty’s granddaught’r is e’en more pow’rful than I.”

“She…she is dead. Lady Sunset is no more.” The look of shock came over the warrior’s face, and an equal look of sorrow came over Veronica’s own. “This is why winter has come early, why the weather is out of control and why the shadows grow bolder. Her Holy Highness is in mourning and so the world mourns with her. And we do not know the details, we only have the word from the alicorns that Lady Sunset’s death has occurred.”

“I…see.”

“But as I said, all of Equestria’s heroes are either dealing with this unnatural winter or are elsewise engaged with the remainder of that damnable centaur’s forces. This is why it must be you, Blessed Blade. Find and rescue the filly before the Thorn Witch raises an otherworldly creature to destroy us all. As a cleric of the Church, I hate to say this, but even if you must kill the foal, you must do what it takes to protect our world.”

Blue eyes narrowed and hardened. “I shall not slay the youth. And ‘tis dangerous f’r thee to suggest such in mine own presence,” she hissed.

“I know, and I am sorry,” Veronica stated. “But I want you to understand what is at stake here. Lord Discord told Serene Cadance that even he fears what the Thorn Witch may draw from the blood of the filly. What if they were to resurrect Tirek once more? Or worse? You have seen what this last war has done. I fear a second one would bring the windigos.”

The pair were silent for a moment. “I shalt wend then,” the woman stated. “Shouldst I expect assistance?”

“We are sending two of our bravest Church knights to go with you,” Veronica stated. “One has even slain the vile Ahuizotl. Furthermore, they are willing to keep silent of your existence, even if it means you must take their lives as well.” Expecting another tongue lashing, she stated, “Forgive me, but—”

“I ken thy words.” The woman rose from her seat. “Have those folk join me in mine own cubiculo amorrow. We hie th’ day after.” Bowing before the cleric, she stated, “Fare thee well in my Queen’s name, good Sister.”

“And may Holy Celestia’s Grace smile upon you.” The cleric rose from her seat as well and bowed. “All the world holds its breath for the success of the Megan.”

That night, laying in a bed that was made for a minotaur and in nothing more than her undergarments, the Megan dreamed.

She dreamed of when she was nothing more than Megan, the daughter of a farmer under the protection of Lord Williams, he who in turn served under his majesty King Edward III. Her father had been a knight and a sworn friend of Lord Williams and so she and her family enjoyed certain benefits the others didn’t. They had been so close, in fact, that when her brother Daniel had become of age, Lord Williams took him as his personal squire.

But it all went to hell after that. On her thirteenth birthday, she had found out that both Lord Williams and her father had died at the start of the war in the far-off fields of France. In the latter case, it had left her brother Daniel as head of the house, watching over their mother and their youngest sister, Molly. In the former case, the lands of Lord Williams had no successor, and with King Edward desperate for new troops, he installed Williams’ bastard son, Liam as the new lord of the land. That would turn out to be a critical mistake: Liam was known to all as “the Leprechaun”, both for his short and squat features and stature; and because of his mother, who was not Lord Williams’ wife, but instead an Irish serving girl that worked in the town pub.

Liam, raised spoiled and with no courtly manners, immediately moved to consolidate his power. He declared that Megan would be his bride, and to ensure this, he sent Daniel off to the War. For the longest time, Megan tried everything that she could do to push away the Leprechaun’s advances, but she was only a girl, and he was her rightful lord, as distasteful as it was – this he made clear, demanding she submit or else her family’s lands would be forfeit. With no other recourse and to protect her mother and sister, she submitted, and he took her, leaving her screaming, bleeding and in pain. She was now ruined: she could marry no other and now that he’d had his taste of her, the Leprechaun took no further interest in Megan.

That is, until a year later, when the Church arrived, searching for witchcraft and French spies – after all, weren’t they one and the same? Claiming that Megan and Molly’s mother, a Frenchwoman that had given up her homeland for love, was one such individual, it put the family in immediate peril. Seeing a chance to further curry favor, the Leprechaun brokered a deal with the Church officials, and soon both Megan and her mother were found accused of witchcraft. Molly, too young to understand what was going on, was found innocent and “out of respect for the friendship between their fathers”, she was placed under the wardship of the Leprechaun. Given Lord Liam’s licentiousness, it was fairly clear what his designs for her were.

Megan and her mother tried to fight against the dark fate set against them, but to no avail. Megan had been lucky: she had only had her hair shaven off, dressed in plain homespun and torture-dropped until she could barely move. Her mother had been given the same and pressed to the point that she could not take the extra stones and died as a result. It mattered little if Megan survived, as they declared her a witch regardless and so she would be put to the death in the traditional manner of the shire: to be disposed of in the western bogs, the so-called Land of the Moochiks. The Moochiks were pagan creatures similar to the Green Man and were believed to be the protectors to the realm of Faerie.

“A fitting end to the witches, to be buried in pagan lands”, the Church officials had sneered, all the while ignoring Megan’s prayers and pleadings to God and Christ for this horror, this travesty to be ended.

And so, with the corpse of her dead mother tied to her, Megan was disposed as a witch, dropped in the bog with a stone tied around their ankles; it didn’t matter in any case, as a peasant girl, while she could read and write, swimming had never been part of the lessons. And the last thing she recalled of her earthly life was the Leprechaun, sneering at her, his hand on her sister’s bosom, and Molly not even close to her first blood. Would Daniel ever know of this treachery? Would he even be able to avenge this? Or was he now another rotting, forgotten corpse in their mother’s homeland, their family forgotten and betrayed by the son of the lord they held dear?

She gasped, took in swampwater, and breathed no more.

She woke up, sweating bullets, the sheets and her clothing soaked. Her “death” was a recurring nightmare for her, and something throughout all the millennia of her life, had never gone away. Nor had the guilt and shame.

She knew that hadn’t been the end of her story, of course. She had been found on the shores of the Crabby Crawdad Creek, a now-abandoned part of Equestria that once had been a thriving village by an equally now-dead river. Not knowing what she was, the locals had buried her mother’s body and nursed her back to health, despite their fear of what was clearly a monster in their eyes. The news of course had caught the attention of Queen Faust herself, who ventured to see what this “beast” was. However, she had found a bright and inquisitive creature, one broken but whose hate-filled heart could be turned to good.

Because of her size, towering even larger than that of a minotaur; her quick wit and intelligence, which rivaled many of Faust’s scribes and sages; and her strength and agility, which rivaled all but the strongest earth ponies and nimblest pegasi and unicorns, the strange creature was chosen to be a knight in Queen Faust’s service. Faust assigned her grandmaster of knights, Brambleton, to train the strange creature they called “the Megan”.
In time, she even surpassed her master, saving Equestria during its war with the Griffon Kingdom and becoming the grandmaster of knights in her own right. It was then that she realized she had aged only a few years and by her guess had to be a lady of no more than twenty years, which made no sense, as by this time she had been in the service of her queen for a century. Faust herself admitted that she knew not why either, but with such a loyal and faithful knight at her side, the realm would remain protected and prosperous.

As time passed, both eventually learned why: Megan had become a Swordbearer, a being whose power and lifespan rivalled an alicorn. But Megan knew she was no nemesis of her queen but instead, her dearest friend. She and Faust had become confidantes, friends, trusted and sworn sisters in a sense, with a deep and unyielding bond as strong as her father had once had for Lord Williams. And it was in this role that she had served faithfully through countless ages since.

She had seen the rise of Starswirl, a talented swordsstallion, one who had grown nearly as strong as she in magic. Sensing his abilities, she had taken him under her metaphorical wing as her squire and had trained him to be a grand knight and mage in good standing.

She had seen the birth of Faust’s first child, Celestia, and had seen the bond between the then-aged Starswirl and the infant. He had become the infant princess’ Swordbearer, and she could see the avuncular love he had for the filly.

She had witnessed the death of her faithful apprentice at the hooves of the Damned One, and whose mark she had left on that damnable creature in return. Both she and Faust grieved at the loss of the talented mage and had vowed never to tell Celestia of what had become of her dearest Uncle Starswirl.

She witnessed the birth of Luna, and how Clover the Clever had sworn of dark times to come. And they did: Faust’s ascension to the next plane of reality, leaving her infant daughters to fend for themselves in a world without a ruling alicorn. How nobleponies had taken advantage of the two fillies and split the kingdom thricefold, creating new warlords that turned pony against pony for centuries. How a monster from beyond came and took it all, and how the two young princesses had found ancient weapons of their mother’s creation and used it to reforge Equestria. How a new Swordbearer, Bucephalus, rose to be at Luna’s side…and his horrific death, murdered by the betrayal of one he’d considered his closest friend. The war between the two sisters and Luna’s possession by madness and subsequent banishment. The centuries of loneliness that Celestia endured.

All of these things Megan blamed herself for. She had agreed to Faust’s last request: to not interfere with ponydom, but to protect it from afar. To fade into myth and legend and defend Equestria from the things that not even Celestia and Luna could. And reluctantly, painfully, Megan agreed. She loved Faust’s two fillies as if they were her own, and now she wasn’t sure if they even remembered her anymore. In this day and age, her only contact to the world was through the Church of the Alicorns and in particular through one family: the Speedwell clan, of which Veronica and Watercress were two of the current members.

She had been alone now for centuries. She never knew what happened to her family – either of them. And she wasn’t even sure she was human anymore; certainly, she had lived longer than Methuselah himself!

She undressed, looking at herself in the mirror, her naked body glistening in the flickering candlelight. She had a body any man would want; Liam had raped her when she was but a girl, a bud barely close to blossoming, but now she was a beauty that would have made even King Edward’s own wife Queen Isabella green with envy! Certainly, there had been enough pony clans (and even other species!) that had claimed she had taken one of their males as a lover and had offspring, but that had never been true. She wasn’t sure if she even wanted that sort of thing anymore…or anything else, for that matter, other than to fulfill her vow to her liegelady and dearest friend.

Reaching into her bag, she withdrew a new pair of undergarments, then went into the shower. Those few that knew her chided her for not living a “modern pony life” but that was impossible for her: for one, she wasn’t a pony. Secondly, while she was adjusted to the ways of the modern world, her “Faustian-era Equish” notwithstanding, she felt that the modern vernacular was far too easily leaning towards deception and villainy, each phrase and syllable filled with falsehoods and caveats. Let her speak honest and true, even if others had difficulties in understanding what it meant. It would make them think more about their own speech that way.

After a quick shower and clothing herself in something other than her armor for a change, she went downstairs to converse with the two knights that would be going with her on this travail. As it was, they would need to get used to her steed.

Now dressed in a simple tunic and pants, the Megan looked across the table at her new companions. The two were clearly dressed in the armor of Church knights, though they were from two different orders: an earth pony bearing the green and silver livery of the Order of the Dancing Hare, which specialized in paladin works and grand quests, while the unicorn was garbed in the turquoise and copper attire of the Order of the Flowing Ribbon, whose stock in trade was healing services and fighting evil curses and magic wherever it was found. “Thou ken what this entails, doest thou not?”

The earth mare, a white coated beauty with a gold and amber mane, looked at her with blue eyes the same hue as her own. “Are you for real?”

“Yond doest not matter if’t be true I am or not,” Megan told her evenly. “What doest matter is such: Art thou capable of what we must hie away and perform?”

“I…guess? I don’t get your freaky-deaky Faustian-era stuff. You’re like something out of a Spearshaker book I read when I was a schoolfilly!”

“Sundance!” At the side of the earth mare the unicorn mare, pink with an ivory-and-purple mane, chided her fellow knight. “That’s rude!” Turning to Megan, she nodded her head. “My apologies, Your Grace. My companion here is what I like to refer to as ‘a dork’. Anyway, I am Twilight Starfield and I will be serving as your magic assistance during this time.” Gesturing to her friend, she added, “And she, of course, is Sundance, who is to be our heavy-hitter.” A pause. “A dorky one, but a heavy hitter nonetheless.”

Sundance stuck her tongue out at her fellow pony. “That’s not nice, Twila!”

“Dance, you just insulted a living legend. She’s probably the most powerful being on Equus and you insulted her!” Twilight argued back.

“May I remind thee both while thou sittest hither and argue, a filly’s life is in peril?” Megan interjected. That was enough to get both to stop, with Twilight sitting smugly in her chair and Sundance shading red from embarrassment.

“Sorry,” the earth mare muttered.

“‘Tis of bawbling import. What is of matt’r is the life of this imperiled babe. The Thorn Beldams hast that foal and her life shall be forfeit ‘lest we rescue her. ‘Twill not be a simple task. We wilt square the remainders of Tirek's terrible host and hie to a land whither nay pony hast ev’r been ere. And I shall needeth thee to show brav’ry than any pony hast ev’r done. What sayeth thee?”

Sundance pulled out her sword, placing it on the table. “I am a knight of the Church, in Celestia’s Divine Name. I stop all evil – I slew Ahuizotl and his minions during the war when he tried to take advantage of the chaos and I would do so again. I am a battlemare bred to war in the name of our Divine Alicorns and this is what I do, milady,” she said with surprising seriousness. “My sword is yours to command.”

Twilight looked at her as well. “We will save that filly or die trying,” she stated.

“Thus shalt it be,” Megan told them. “Eft thyselves amorrow, f’r we depart at first light. F’r anon, gather what supplies thee mayest require f’r the journey.”

“What is that?” Sundance asked, her jaw dropped.

Twilight, on the other hand, being a unicorn, had a more scholarly look on her face. “Is that Fenrir?”

The two ponies looked at the giant brown and white wolf laying on the ground. It had a saddle and tack and seemed to somehow serve as transportation for their strange companion. “This be Dinah, mine own steadfast vanargand and the great-granddaughter of the legendary Fenrir,” Megan explained. “Once I didst save Fenrir and his pack from a tatzlwurm; the vanargands serve as mine own steeds ev’r since. They art cunning, brave and loyal and I couldst not call f’r a finer mount.”

“You ride that thing?” Sundance asked.

“Wouldst thou prefer I set tack and saddle upon thee? In the ordinary I cometh from, we ride ponies, not wolves.”

“Nope, sorry, I don’t wear a saddle without a first date,” Sundance replied casually. “Besides, I don’t swing that way. Twila does, though.”

Twilight facehoofed. “Dance, leave my personal life out of this.”

“Just saying! You know you got the hots for Bubbles, don’t deny it!”

“I said leave my personal life out of this!”

“Oh, c’mon, Twila! Bubbles was just in the keep the other day telling us about how you wanted her to wear those lacy socks that turn you on and how she does that thing with her wings that—” Sundance said no more as a silencing spell was immediately cast by the vexed unicorn.

Meanwhile, Dinah merely looked at her master as if to say, do we have to bring them along?

Megan laughed as she climbed into the saddle and patted Dinah’s flank. “Tolerate those two, mine own loyal. They art quite fartuous, but I am sure they shall mark chivalrous at which hour the time is of need.”

Sundance just looked at Megan. “Did you just say I farted? Seriously?”

With that, the trio went on, moving southwards towards their destination. As they moved away from the shore, the frozen ground and heavy snows covered everything, which was odd, given that it was late summer. The sky was an iron gray, and the sun, normally a bright shining daystar, was instead a pale, barely flickering orb slightly brighter than a firefly.

“An ill portent,” Megan said softly as the three moved on. “Celestia mourns her issue’s death and the whole of everything cannot holp but be trailed ‘long with the sov’rign’s grief. Would yond I couldst be thither f’r yond po’r broken Cellie.”

“I still can’t believe you knew Holy Celestia when she was in diapers,” Sundance stated with a bit of awe.

“Well, I spoke with somepony I know at the palace and they say that Princess Luna’s got her hooves full trying to run the country on her own,” Twilight told them, “and that the Bearers are running ragged trying to solve problems around the world.”

“You know somepony at the palace?” Sundance asked.

“Yeah, stallion by the name of Spare Rations, he’s a guard that I went to school with when we were foals,” Twilight explained. “He’s an old friend, so we talk often.”

“Just talk?”

“Yes, just talk. However, I always thought his sister was cute.”

Sundance grinned. “Well, you’ll just have to introduce me to this stallion when we get back, right?”

“He’s married.”

Sundance pouted. “Ponyfeathers,” she grunted.

The group moved on in silence until Megan started singing:

“Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley sage, rosemary and thyme;
Remember me to one who lives there,
For she was once a true love of mine

“Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,
Parsley sage, rosemary and thyme;
Without any seam or needlework,
Then she shall be a true love of mine

“Tell her to wash it in yonder well,
Parsley sage, rosemary and thyme;
Where never sprung water or rain ever fell,
And she shall be a true lover of mine

“Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn,
Parsley sage, rosemary and thyme;
Which never bore blossom since Adam was born,
Then she shall be a true lover of mine”

“That’s an interesting song,” Sundance commented. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“A ballad from mine own fusty home,” Megan explained. “Yond is the part the gent – the stallion, I s’ppose – would cant. ‘Tis about a cavalier s’parat’d from his fair love and the fulsome tasks they wilt undertake to reunite. The song eke spake of the four values of chivalry: parsley tooketh hence bitterness, sage represents strength and wisdom, rosemary symbolizes memory and faithfulness and thyme wast f’r courage.”

“It sounds beautiful,” Twilight commented. “Is there more?”

“Aye, thither is the mistress’ response to his refrain. Would thee like me to sing the second?” When the ponies nodded, Megan began again.

“Now he has asked me questions three,
Parsley sage, rosemary and thyme;
I hope he’ll answer as many for me,
Before he shall be a true lover of mine

“Tell him to buy me an acre of land,
Parsley sage, rosemary and thyme;
Betwixt the saltwater and the sea sand,
Then he shall be a true love of mine

“Tell him to plough it with a ram’s horn,
Parsley sage, rosemary and thyme;
And sow it all over with one peppercorn,
And he shall be a true lover of mine

“Tell him to sheer’t with a sickle of leather,
Parsley sage, rosemary and thyme;
And bind it up with a peacock’s feather,
And he shall be a true lover of mine

“Tell him to thrash it on yonder wall,
Parsley sage, rosemary and thyme;
And never let one corn of it fall,
Then he shall be a true lover of mine

“When he has done and finished his work,
Parsley sage, rosemary and thyme;
Oh tell him to come and he’ll have his shirt,
And he shall be a true lover of mine”

Near the southern pole of the world, where the ice was thicker than walls and everything was a blasted frozen tundra, unnatural shapes gathered in the land known as Umberfoal. Fearsome and full of hate, they represented some of the last of Tirek’s once mighty army – perhaps they were the last. It mattered little, though, as soon they would commit to a course of action that would return their lord and master to the world and with that, they would be the masters of all once more.

In the central camp, a cyclops with jet black fur looked at the bleak landscape, his singular blood-red eye redder than normal from the howling winds around them. “This has better work,” he growled.

“Patience, Spartoi,” a sinuous voice stated. “All shall be restored to normal soon, and you will get your wish.”

“What wish?” a second, shorter cyclops snarled. “It is a demand! Lord Tirek must be brought back to life, and our patience grows short, Witch! You had be—gak!” His words were suddenly cut off by a black vine wrapping around his neck, the thorns drawing blood.

“I don’t answer to you,” the Thorn Witch stated, her eyes a pair of endlessly deep black pits in which two pale pupils sat. “You would be wise to remember that, Telchine.”

Telchine reached for his sword. “I will kill you for your mockery!” he gasped, both struggling with the vine growing tighter around his neck while trying to stab at her with his blade.

She sighed. “I tire of this.” She closed her eyes and the plundervine grew taut. There was a snap and a death rattle, and a second later a sickening pop as Telchine’s head detached from his body. Yellowish blood sprayed in the air, coating the immediate surroundings with the sign that the cyclops was now dead. The Witch withdrew her vine and the decapitated body fell to the ground, jerking in spasms as a puddle of blood formed underneath it, the warm life fluid steaming and crystalizing in the frozen climate.

Spartoi wicked the blood of his fellow cyclops off him. “That was entirely unnecessary, Witch,” he told her coolly.

“You need better followers, Spartoi,” she retorted. “Perhaps find some that will not challenge my power or authority?”

“Nonetheless, he had a point. We captured that pony brat, and I have no idea why she is so damn important, other than you must sacrifice her. It doesn’t take that long to gut a foal with a knife! What are we waiting for?”

“We have a week still until Kincsem’s Comet passes overhead, and we need the trail of ambient magic that the comet brings with it to accomplish our goal.” the Witch told him. “At the moment that happens, I can then kill the foal and use her blood to…well, you’ll see. I promise you, it will be a result well worth your while.”

“It had better be.”

“Oh, it will. Now, deploy the rest of your armies. My last scrying tells me that a powerful force is headed to rescue her.”

“Like what?”

“Perhaps Discord has found a way to reach us. That pathetic fool is now completely under the teats of the alicorns, wretch that he is.”

“Hah! Discord? As if. Even he wouldn’t come here! It’s too orderly for him, too pristine. It’s pure anathema to him. And the alicorns are tied up with whatever is happening in the world. I’ve heard rumor that Princess Celestia has finally lost her mind and Princess Luna had to do to her sister what was once done to her.”

“Whether that’s true or not, they are not the only powers in the world,” the Witch reminded him. “Recall that we fought the kitsune and the gargoyles as well, and they are hardly pushovers, either. We must be wary.” The two looked at each other, a small staring contest to see who would blink first, both literally, and metaphorically.

Finally, Spartoi nodded, blinking his eye. “Right. I shall talk to my generals. You check on that brat.”

The Witch moved across the ground, plundervines wrapping around her. In a flash of sickly pale light she turned into a soft gray earth mare with a short black mane and hot pink eyes. Slipping on fake hobbles, she walked into a makeshift building which served as shelter from the endless wind.

Inside was bare comfort. The skin of some unfortunate animal served as a rug, while a smoky fire ran. In the corner was a magically-hewn cage made of granite, and inside that was a pegasus filly with a pale yellow coat and a lilac mane. She shivered in the chill of the room; even with a blanket on her, the smoky fire wasn’t producing enough heat.

The “mare” tapped on the bars, waking up the filly. “You poor, poor thing,” she said in a soft voice. “They caught you too, huh?”

The filly looked at her with frightened eyes before seeing that it was another pony. “I’m afraid,” she spoke. “I want my mama.”

“I understand, sweetie,” the disguised Witch said in a sympathetic tone. “I miss my foals as well. I was taken from them, and I want to be with them again. What’s your name?”

“Erroria,” the filly stated nervously. “What’s yours?”

“It’s…Canticle,” the mare stated. “As you can see, I’ve been put in hobbles because I’ve been forced to serve those nasty brutes that captured us.”

“But that’s not fair to you!” Erroria gasped.

“You’re right, but these are wicked villains. They don’t care what is fair or right, child.”

Erroria nodded as though hearing wisdom. The intake of wisdom was immediately followed by the growling of her belly. “I’m hungry,” she stated.

“I have to be careful, but I’ll see if I can get you some food, okay? I’ll be right back.” “Canticle” went to the far side of the room and came back with some hardtack and a bowl of water. “It’s not much, but if I take any more they might notice,” she said, pushing the meal into Erroria’s cage.

“Okay.” The filly gnawed at the hard biscuit, occasionally taking drinks from the bowl. After what seemed like a small eternity, she managed to finish the tasteless rations, then lay back down. “Will you…will you stay here with me?” Erroria asked.

“I…I can’t,” Canticle lied. “If I do, the cyclopses might do something bad to me. They caught me just to use me for…well, a little filly like you doesn’t need to know that,” she said with a waver in her voice, shaking.

“The Bearers will come to save us,” Erroria stated, her voice unsure. “Princess Twilight is brave and she won’t let anypony down.”

“I’m sure she’ll come to save us,” the Witch cooed, taking note of that name. She had her own forces to draw upon and later she would call upon them to harry that alicorn’s forces. Her plans could not be undone by anypony. Not now, not ever.

But at the moment she needed to keep the filly calm and placated. She needed Erroria to be in a particular mental state as Kincsem’s Comet passed overhead and to have her frightened now could mean she would be numb from the fear later or worse, defiant. This spell had only one chance to succeed and it all hinged on this little filly and the variables that surrounded her.

So until the time came, the Witch would pretend to be on the filly’s side, to be an ally until the last moment.

“Would you like me to sing you a lullaby?” Canticle asked. “It might help you calm down.”

“Yes, please,” Erroria stated.

Giving her softest smile, Canticle opened her mouth and sang.

“Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley sage, rosemary and thyme;
Remember me to one who lives there,
For she was once a true love of mine….”

This is a project that TQP approached me about. He loved my treatment of the Megan (the massively revamped version of Megan Williams from the original G1 MLP) and he wanted to get back into writing after having to quit because of personal issues. He created the outline to this story (based on references to the Megan I've made throughout the Berylverse) as well as made a few additions to her legendarium, and the proposal fascinated me enough that I wanted to put it to words. The above is the collaboration, and we both hope you'll enjoy.

Also, a historical note for those interested: the use of "Scarborough Fair" might seem anachronistic at first, given that I mention Megan's from the 14th century and the earliest known reference to the song is 1670, but there are indicators that the song could date back as early as the 12th century. Given that and the fact that I like the fun of anachronism (think A Knight's Tale), I put it in. TQP agreed and so thus why it's there. The lyrics are the traditional version, not the Simon & Garfunkel "Canticle" one.
- Shinzakura

Heya, TQP here. Needless to say I really like how Shin took a girly-girl character from an old MLP series and turned her into an uncontested badass. I've always wanted more on this character and so I turned to Shin and proposed this. Whether this is official BV stuff or not, I can say that this is my hopeful addition to the character. Thanks for reading!
- The Quiet Party