Then. 3,469 years before the dawn of the Anno Harmonia.

They called it the Tower of Stars.

It was a mighty edifice of black stone, standing at least five hundred feet high. The stone glittered and glimmered, wrought with magicks far beyond the understanding of the ponies that surrounded it. Even the Unicorns, mighty as they were, had no knowledge of the power that it had taken to build it.

Nor, for that matter, did Galatea.

She didn’t really mind not knowing – indeed, it was nice to have some mysteries in the world, some great edifices that did not have a name and history she knew in the deep library of her own mind. The Tower of Stars was older than her, and it gave her a sense of scale.

The rumour had long held in the lands surrounding these mountains that Celestia and Luna had first gained the loyalty of the three kindred here. Galatea had missed that particular event, more wrapped up at the time in trying (and, admittedly, failing) to navigate a world wracked in calamity, but by the time she had reached the Tower, the ponies there – including the famed Flash Magnus – had already pledged themselves to the two sisters. It was a step on a road that Galatea had not foreseen for her sisters, but it was not one that caused any alarm to her, nor did her understanding of their mother’s plan decree that it was in any way ‘wrong’.

That had been thirteen years ago. Only now, after political wrangling that even Galatea had found dull, had a decision been made. There had been bloodshed, but only a little – skirmishes, brawls, assassination attempts. Galatea did not dare imagine how Celestia and Luna had felt about such events.

There had even been, to the grey Alicorn’s irritation, an attempt to decree that being ‘blanks’ – the derogatory term for those who had yet to manifest their soul mark – rendered Celestia and Luna as false beings, artificial.

If only those fools knew the truth, Galatea thought, resisting the urge to snort. They’d defecate themselves like mindless animals.

She was amongst the crowds now watching as the two Alicorns, flanked by the looming, bipedal figures of the Astral Praetorians, ascended to the top of the Tower’s entrance stair, before turning to face the crowds.

The Praetorians were what had, in many ways, saved the nascent diarchy from being mired in endless internecine conflict. It had been ten years ago, three years after their initial success with the Tower, that the Praetorians has revealed themselves. Their presence had legitimised the sisters’ claim, or more pertinently the claim they had been given by the ponies who had raised them up.

There had been so much pain, heartache and worry in the years since they had first come here that Galatea would have been lying had she denied having doubts. She knew her sisters were strong, and Luna and Celestia supported one another perfectly, perhaps even more so than their mother had intended. And now here they stood – poised to take up a new challenge.

A pony – an alabaster Unicorn with a short blonde mane and a scar along one eye – came up to the podium. This was Lord Blueblood of Unicornia, late of the Unicorn kingdom before leaving to join the increasing ranks of the nobility who had defected to Equestria. Though the old separate nations – the Earth Pony Republic, the Pegasi Junta and the Unicorn’s Kingdom – had shrunk in power and influence, still they clung to life.

He stood for a moment silently, looking out at the assembled ponies, frowning at the assembled throng until there was silence. Galatea smiled in faint amusement from beneath her hood.

“Ponies of Equestria!” Blueblood called out to the assembled crowd after a moment. “Two stand before thee, avatars of the unity our fair nation seeks! The bearers of the Sun and Moon, the masters of the Praetorians! These two would ask for thine fealty! What say thee?!”

“Have them speak!” came the chorus from the crowd. Galatea remained silent, looking around at the calling ponies. There was something… odd about such ritual, and yet it seemed to give comfort to these ponies.

So much you don’t understand, her memories told her. She knew things were the way they were, but so much of the knowledge her mother had left failed to really make clear why.

Blueblood turned to Luna first. “Luna Faustdóttir, Bearer of the Moon, we charge thee to rule us as mistress of the Night. What say thee?”

“I say that I will bear this burden if the ponies of Equestria ask,” Luna replied properly, speaking loudly and clearly (louder than Galatea remembered her speaking – was she putting it on?). “I will be thine shield and protector. Thy burdens I shalt bear as mine own. Thy blood and mine shalt be as one.”

“We hear thy pledge,” Blueblood said. “What say thee, ponies of Equestria?! Dost thou accept this pledge?!”

“Aye!” the chorus of voices retorted.

“And thee, Celestia Faustdóttir?” Blueblood continued, turning to Celestia. “We charge thee to rule as mistress of the Sun. What say thee?!”

“I say that I will bear this burden with a glad heart, and feel naught but love and joy at the trust thou hast placed upon me,” Celestia replied, smiling brightly. “I will be thine leader, and to all of mine charges I shalt be as mother, to protect and to nurture, and to see grow into the fullness of their destinies!”

“We hear thy pledge,” Blueblood recited once more. “What say thee, ponies of Equestria?! Dost thou accept this pledge?!”

“Aye!” the chorus of voices spoke once more. Galatea couldn’t help but feel a small modicum of sisterly pride in the joy she saw around her from the ponies, and in the way both her sisters seemed at relative ease on the podium.

“Then to thee we lay this charge, to lead us fair and true, ‘til the ending of your days,” Blueblood said to the two Alicorns. “What say thee? Wilt thou take up this burden? Wilt thou lead us?!”

“Aye!” the two Alicorns chorused as one.

Even as Celestia and Luna said this, however, there was a sudden bright light. The pair of them were shrouded in it for but a moment, and then it faded, revealing the two Alicorns once more – including their soul marks. Upon Luna’s flank there lay a striking image of the Moon, shrouded in clouds and darkness. Upon Celestia’s flank, there lay the image of the Sun, resplendent in its beauty.

“Do you see?!” Blueblood called. “There they stand! Their souls are revealed to us, and this is their destiny and ours as one!” He turned to the crowd once more,raising one hoof up triumphantly. “Hail to the Alicorns! Hail to the Princesses of Equestria!”

“Hail!” the cry went up from across the crowd of ponies. Confetti was thrown, colourful shreds of paper that danced in the breeze upon the mountaintop. “Hail Celestia! Hail Luna! Hail the Princesses!”

“Hail!” Galatea added, her melodious voice drowned out by the crowd. “Hail!”

Her sisters smiled, apparently content, and Galatea could feel it too.

“They will have to do it for the rest of their lives,” Sint Erklass said later. He had not been part of the crowd, instead opting to stand at the peripheries and watch with pride. “Or at least, until some method is found to repair the Tower.”

“That would be better,” Galatea said evenly, “but of all the beings left with this responsibility, to leave it to them seems the best of poor options. They are diligent and kind, at least in my estimation.”

“They are at that,” Sint Erklass said, smiling.

The two were silent for a moment, both stood in quiet contemplation. Galatea sighed, looking over to where the two Alicorns could faintly be seen at the base of the tower, milling with the ponies who had crowned them and answering questions with polite smiles.

“Strange that they would cede control, of their lives to mine sisters so readily,” she commented after a moment.

“You think so?” Sint Erklass said.

“You do not?” Galatea retorted. “They ruled themselves for a time, and we’re content enough. Yet now they give that power to Alicorns. Alicorns who may live for all time, I might add.”

“Power resides where ponies believe it resides,” Sint Erklass said quietly. He smiled. “They will rule because the ponies think they should.”

“I see,” Galatea said impassively, her eyes still fixed on the Tower.

“You don’t disapprove, then?” Sint asked. “This… this fits her plan?”

Galatea gave him a small smile.

“She meant for them to be the saviours of this world – to take up her mantle as a protector,” she said gently. “Perhaps this, the claiming of rulership… that will be how they achieve that aim.” She shrugged. “Besides which, Sint Erklass, I am not meant to dictate the hows of their roles. So long as Celestia remains benevolent, and Luna remains at her side, they could become the world’s most prosperous farmers and feed the hungry for eternity, for all the plan demands.”

Sint Erklass chuckled. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Well, perhaps I jest a tad,” Galatea chuckled. Her mirth faded into a warm smile. “No. I believe that she knew they would be leaders of their own kindred among the lesser ponies. The how and the why, she did not know, but it was inevitable.”

“And she relied on me to raise them to be good rulers,” Sint Erklass said, looking back at the two figures as they stood on the stairs of the Tower and met with more of the various lords who had come to witness their coronation. “I hope I have succeeded.”

“Time will tell, Guardian of Joy,” Galatea said, still smiling. “Time will tell.”

Now.

The Tower of Stars.

Time had, indeed, told. If only it hadn’t been fixated on making its tale a tragedy.

The Tower was burning. The obsidian walls were cracked, no longer glittering. The spirits, the Praetorians, were gone, broken armour and broken swords the only sign that they had ever been here at all. The ponies who had assailed this place had taken their dead with them, but Galatea privately thought that it must have cost the Empire greatly to take this place.

Yet they still took it, she thought, scowling. Walking past more broken armour towards the base of the tower, she climbed the stairs. Her hooves clicked against the stone so loudly that they seemed to echo in the very air.

The great door to the Tower creaked open, revealing more of the same destruction. Shattered shelves, empty armour…

Nothing has survived. She sniffed, scowling at the destruction around her. They’ve destroyed it all.

Still, she could not give up hope yet. The Librarium was through one of the doors on the ground floor, discovered long ago by the ponies who had sworn themselves to Celestia’s service. It was there the Praetorians had been found, and had cleaved themselves to Celestia as well.

Like so many others that believed they knew her, she thought bitterly, they have been betrayed and destroyed.

She couldn’t keep focusing on it, though. She trotted last the armour and entered the Librarium, edging carefully along the outer edge of the great library. The books here were in no better state than at the Charopolis, and Galatea felt a wave of something akin to despair rising up in her chest and threaten to overwhelm her.

There must be something, she thought. There must be something here worth finding, something here worth using. There has to be.

“I’m afraid if you’re looking for something, you won’t find it here,” a voice cut through her despairing thoughts.

Galatea started, her horn glowing and a defensive shield appearing.

Slouched upon a makeshift chair was a strange figure. Their form was bipedal and strange, built not like any of those on Equus. While having a full body coat like a yak’s, a lush and luxurious dark, and the horns of a goat, their posture wasn’t animalistic. Curiously, around the figure’s form were shakes and chains – broken chains of various lengths – but still there were apparent shackles. Ones that were made with cloven hooves in mind.

However, the most apparent attribute of this figure was their face. While dark colored, a lighter shade of their coat, it was angularly shaped and looked like leather. Not like a bat, but instead something else despite the hint of fangs. Beyond the goat-like beard on their chin and horns atop their head. Regardless, this creature was something strange… and yet she recognised it.

“You need not take any offensive action,” the creature said, raising a limb weakly to reveal a claw clutching a tree branch of some kind. “I cannot harm you. Nor do I particularly have the inclination to try.”

Galatea did not relax. “I know you.”

“You know of me,” it retorted. “Sint Erklass was, alas, biased in his estimation of me. We all have those, you know, and we all speak with them, whether we admit to them or not.”

“He believed you to be a monster, albeit one whose life was tragic,” Galatea retorted. “Would you dispute that, Krampus?”

“Vigorously,” the creature – the Krampus – replied, giving a hacking cough that might have hidden a laugh. “My life’s been positively genial for the last few millennia, this recent…” he trailed off into a hack, “event aside.”

Galatea said nothing, merely observing the creature carefully. For a moment, the two stood there in silence.

“You came here seeking the Librarium of the Stars,” the creature coughed once more. “I fear you are too late. It is gone, laid waste by Equestrian soldiers.”

“You were Sint Erklass’ prisoner,” Galatea scowled.

“Once,” it said. It motioned to itself. “No longer.”

“How did you get free?” she asked it.

“Sint Erklass’ magic requires Sint Erklass to be alive to use it,” it replied. “and since he is no longer, his magic has lost its power.” A talon pointed to the collar around their neck. “The bonds broken.”

She narrowed her eyes at it. “You are injured.”

“Dying, I should think,” it replied, with all the emotion of one vaguely irritated by the weather.

“How?” Galatea asked. “And, more to the point, why?”

“Sint Erklass and his children were not the only target of Celestia’s ‘Angel’.” The Krampus coughed once more. “The Queen wanted me gone, too. Possibly more so than she did Sint. Hard to say – at a certain point, hate becomes indistinguishable from greater hate.”

“Why did she do this?” Galatea asked quietly. “Do you know?”

“I do not,” it replied. “Though I have theories, none of them…” It let out yet another cough, more strained than the last. “None of them are wholly fitting. But one thing is clear as day.”

Galatea frowned. “What might that be, creature?”

“Celestia is not Celestia,” the Krampus said. “She would have no cause for this madness. It is not her way.”

Something in the way it said that made Galatea’s blood run cold. “Beings change, Krampus.”

“And yet you know as well as I do that this is not accurate to her way,” the Krampus retorted. For a moment, Galatea could see a spark of madness in the tired eyes the Krampus had. Alas, it was just a moment and faded quickly. “If she were to do this, become this, it would feel like her. A corrupted her, a maddened her, but still her. This…” Another cough. “This is not.”

Galatea’s brows knitted together, her eyes widening. She had not dared to hope, to think that there was some way to make this right, but if what this creature was saying was true…

If it’s true, there is hope yet.

“Could… could she be freed from it?” she asked.

“I do not know, for I do not know what it is possessing her,” the Krampus said. “It feels… familiar, like a bad taste in my mouth, but I have forgotten more than most beings know. But you must hope she can be broken free of it.” It coughed again, flecks of what might have been blood flying from its mouth, but it was laughing as a hint of its tongue could be seen. “The alternative is, you must destroy her.”

Galatea swallowed. “If I must.”

“If you must, Sentinel, but I am not even sure you can.” It coughed again. “My brother… Kontagion… he attacked her, and she laid him to waste. Smote his ruin upon the Canterhorn.” Another cough, weaker this time. “And he was wilier and more powerful than either of us.”

The creature let out one final cough, before laughing, long and hard.

“You know,” it said after a moment, “I often envisioned this. Freedom. Sint Erklass laid to waste. His children’s suffering.” It’s laughter faded. “Strange how life curses us with what we want most.”

Galatea scowled briefly, before turning to leave.

“Can you do it, Sentinel?” the Krampus called to her. “Face down your sister? Defeat her? Do you truly think you can bring yourself to end her after such a long vigil?”

Galatea paused, before looking over her shoulder.

“I was made to follow mine Mother’s plan,” she replied. “And in service of that… I will do what I must.”

And with that, she left the Librarium and the wounded creature. Her mind was racing, thought and possibility mixing together to create one final truth, one certainty.

She had work to do.

Author's Notes:

With great thanks to TheIdiot for his work on fleshing out the Krampus.