Login

Sunset Looms

by TheGreyPotter

Chapter 1: 1

Load Full Story Next Chapter

Sunset Looms
By The Grey Potter
http://cosmicponyfanfiction.blogspot.com/
https://docs.google.com/document/d/11McQy6Nh7NKbw4QebOBjiBbiYXXUDN-5h1XZaF2vSYs/edit

If I may impress upon you the simplest fact, the essence that my life boils down to, it’s that I am very, very old. More than that. Only the land itself can even hope to out date me. All those who might match me in age are sealed away, or corrupted by other forces. Only I remain.

A thousand years, dozens of dozens generations of ponies. A hundred court compositions have crumbled and reformatted, each as arbitrary as the last. These ponies blur together in their persistent grave-chasing. They are, ants, mice, some other small vermin one couldn’t even fathom picking out individuals from. There is no such thing as an individual. They all serve, one eternal mass, forever shifting and changing, yet never changing at all. A rainbow-colored slurry who’s only positive point is that it doesn’t leave a film where it oozes. Their children replace them, and I give them the slightest courtesy of remembering their name before they die as well. I have to deal with the persistent ones for twenty years at most. Shorter if they act as fools do and oppose me.

Ah yes, to all those inspiring anarchists who wish to see the sun and moon stop rotating, I do not find you funny. I smile because it’s easier than putting up with infinite questions about my mood. I have no mood, and no stirrings of remorse will come to me over the crushing of your tiny little bones. Do you understand how brief your ventures are? It’s odd to one as old as I to it is to have ponies bite at my ankles during sunrise, then have others kiss them by sunset. Not that it matters. Each action is equally useless. Both groups die, blow away in the wind. One a little sooner than the other.

Why do I even bother to rule, to move the celestial bodies? With a whim I could stop them from turning. I could allow the anarchists to win, see how the pony masses react. That seems quite unthinkable, doesn’t it? Would Princess Celestia be so cruel?

No, I wouldn’t be. This my place, no, I suppose this is what I am. I am the force that keeps this world running. The crucial cog. I have become a feature of it. Immovable as the soil I stand on. I wish that I had been granted the gift of unconsciousness, so that I may simply move the world in ignorance. Then maybe the ponies would have nothing to oppose their useless aspirations. Yet, I am fully aware. And with that awareness, that physical presence in this plane, so much is demanded of me. I am the key to every ceremony, the figurehead to every event, and the decider of all things. It’s difficult for my current court ponies to think otherwise, despite all their parties and political struggles. Illusions. I am the supreme leader of this land and each of their frail little lives. From these current ponies I receive little objection. No, the multicolor blurs drives me to do exactly what I have been doing, and will be doing. For now, and all eternity. It’s pointless to say yes or no. It is my place. I have walked the roads for centuries, digging deep and clear ruts in their stone. My hooves will dig for centuries more.

~¤~

I was attending one such ritual, one of the more arbitrary of my duties. A celebration of shearing bushes until they become recognizable forms. I said my piece, all ponies welcome and so forth, and began my traditional Walk Among the Roses. This was so that I may attempt to memorize a single name and declare it at the end. This wasn’t an all too ancient of an event, only three hundred years old. But already it was deeply ingrained into everyponies’ mind as important and traditional and in needing of my passing respect. I swiveled my head to each bush and bowed a little, as they expected of me.

There was an explosion, a flash, a rainbow slicing across my sky that demanded my attention for several seconds. Ponies bucked and brayed around me, startled by the sound. Some of the manicured bushes were nearly trampled. I supposed this most likely was not part of the event. Or if it was, most ponies must not have been informed. I returned to observing the bushes, trying to show the panicked ponies that this was nothing to pay mind to. Startling, yes, but random violent events happen often enough, even for normal ponies. This seemed to be merely a dazzling light show, no destruction or invasion followed it. I would have forgotten the event immediately, continued to walk the ruts of the event, but another explosion happened. Closer this time.

Perhaps a crash would be a more accurate sound to describe it. A dragon’s head burst out of the Tower of Magic. Wooden planks and beams scattered from the epicenter. They bounced and broke a number of roofs before crashing into the gardens and crushing several carefully maintained plants. Innumerable splinters and gold paint flakes drifted afterward, only slightly less dangerous. The dragon sat where he appeared, seeming shocked by the instance of transportation. Gold foil shredded and drifting around his purple neck, as thick and tall as an ancient oak.

So this was an attack. However, it was pitifully blunt. This rebellion would be easy to locate and break up. I was certain their leader would be imprisoned before I urged the moon to rise. I left the panicked ponies and stepped out of my well dug rut for but a moment before stepping into another. This was just another path I took. One less frequently travelled, but just as automated as any other interaction with my subjects.

I expected that my first task would be to subdue and banish the dragon. On the terrorist’s side or not, even the most passive dragon would destroy much of Canterlot in its bid for escape. But the dragon continued to sit in place, blinking at the clouds. He didn’t even sneeze from the dust his destructive appearance must have caused. Curious, but his actions, or lack of them, simply moved him into the to-do list. I saw it at the time as my opposition’s first mistake. The attackers should have summoned a dragon that was less slow.

I expected to face at least a few attackers. When no army appeared from everywhere to attack me, I supposed I would find a small faction of elite combat ponies. But as I ascended up the tower, no pony rose to fight me. Thoughts of surprise stealth, invisibility, and so forth were banished the higher I climbed. There was now merely one option for what I would face, and a pathetic one at that.

I expected, with no backup and terrible summoning skills, that this was the work of a lone mad stallion. The moment I entered his temporary lair he would begin to demand cotton candy be served with every colt’s lunch, or that a town be named after him. I had hoped that this event would have granted me at least a slight distraction, but there would be no such luck. I would be expected to continue my Walk of the Roses after this small of an interlude. Disappointing. And yet, not even this expectation was fulfilled.

I entered a lecture hall to find a small purple filly, writhing, held aloft by her own aura. A magical storm was stirred, uncontrolled, corrupting the space around her. She had overwhelmed four experienced unicorns in their own magic. They were unable to free themselves from the filly’s levitation spell, and they flailed uselessly in midair, spells fizzling, braying in panic. The massive dragon squatted in his place atop a small pile of hay and a shattered cart.

At first glance, one pony might suspect that even the youngest of youths could oppose my reign. But I knew this was not quite the situation I had come to expect. The filly was victim to her own aura, overtaken by it, body and magic moving on its own. She would probably be crying if her own body let her. The four court magicians were held aloft with pads and pencils floating around them. The cart had an instructive paper on the side. Ripped, but it made the true situation clear. This was a magic exam turned disastrous. A standard test of magic in Canterlot was to hatch a dragon’s egg. It was a reasonable feat that required a decent amount of raw magic and technical know-how to accomplish. But somehow, she had made the baby dragon explode in size, crushing the cart the egg was housed in. The four court mages were her examiners, here to observe her skill. Instead they had become victim to it.

Had this…

Ever happened before?

Had there ever been a pony with so much raw magic stored inside her? Or released so suddenly, so violently? I almost did not know what to do.

For the first time in centuries… I suppose I was surprised.

But there was an appropriate response to this, as there was for everything in my life. I banished the spells. The world righted itself. Two more ponies appeared, apparently turned into plants. More surprises. I didn’t let it distract me from my purpose. The small filly began to stammer apologies at my feet, but I banished them as well. She was now my protégé, I decided. A star pupil under my wing alone. This I declared, and she accepted as if she had a choice in the matter.

I was surprised how even my voice was. One would think such a shock to my life would at least allow me a slight stammer. However, I was well practiced, and the filly was placed under my care immediately.

Her name was Twilight Sparkle. I made it a point to memorize it immediately.

I wondered to myself as I raised the moon that night, was I brash? Could I afford to be brash? Was I really that eager to jump on the slightest change, accept a little variety into my life? Did the birth of a particularly adept unicorn honestly matter?

It didn’t matter, not really. There was nothing preventing her personal sunset, no hint that she’d leave impact beyond her small lifetime. Training might have her written in history, maybe with a discovery or two to shake things up among the unicorns. But time will erase and replace those impacts. A particularly potent pony was still only a pebble on the road to the future.

Yet that pebble shook me. Dropped into my tranquil pool. Leaving the smallest of wakes.

I knew this was just another unimportant event in a string of endless monotony. Logically speaking, that’s all this was.

Yet emotionally…

I wasn’t overtaken. But this was incredibly fascinating.

I began her lessons immediately.

~¤~

As a student, Twilight Sparkle was incredibly receptive, unusually studious, and quick to learn. I would teach her a topic, and the next day she would return having skimmed four books on the subject, eager to delve further into the magical theory. Just by looking at her one could understand. Her cutie mark, formed on the day of her awakening, announced her devotion to magic.

Her focus was almost frightening. But not as frightening as the variety of spells that she could cast. Even if a pony understands the concept, that doesn’t mean they could perform the magic. Most are typically limited to one or two types of manipulation. For Twilight Sparkle, each brand really was another realm of possibility, another area she could use. I realized as I was teaching her that I was literally the only one in Equestria who could bring out her full potential. My magic was similarly unimpeded by field. Had she been officially educated by the court ponies, she would find herself tossed between departments. Her education would have formed unbridgeable gaps. Even worse, she might have given up entirely in her frustration.

I wondered sometimes, should I have allowed that to happen? Am I afraid that, in teaching her, Twilight Sparkle’s skills would eventually outshine my own? Certainly not. I am still the only one able to move the sun and the moon.

But was it only her lack of knowledge that prevented her from doing the same?

Is that why I did this? Why I took on Twilight Sparkle as a student? Did I feel threatened? Did I think, if I let her loose to grow on her own, or tossed between multiple teachers, she could be my only true opposition in a thousand years?

I supposed that’s what I convinced myself of at first. When she first came under my care I afforded the filly more… niceties… than I would any other pony. I brought her toys and books. Gave her extra scoops of ice cream with her desserts. Let her stay up an hour past her bedtime if she was good that day. Fillies are remarkably simple beings, and very easy to please. In return for my small efforts, she adored me, trusted me fully. She would often hug my ankles. Nuzzle her nose against mine.

Once, Twilight Sparkle gave me a picture constructed from glitter and macaroni. I understood this to be a custom of endearment among the younger ponies, and I should have simply taken it as proof that my tactics were successful. I hung the picture to prove to her that my kindness was not a false one.

However… I often I dwelled on that picture. Every morning when I rose the sun, the mass of glitter would glare in my eye, forcing me to look at it. Look over it. Keep my eyes on it for far too long.

This…

Surprise, that was one thing. I had been stirred by Twilight Sparkle, certainly, but I expected such things to die down as she grew. I expected her to vanish. Blur back into the general pony court. Her skills were great, but certainly, there wasn’t anything else special about her.

I assured myself of this over and over again. As each day turned into a small adventure, I assured myself that she is just another pony. As she grew and learned, responding to my kindness, I confirmed it. It’s all she is.

Then why did it feel… a little heavy each time I told myself this?

A little light each time the sun made the macaroni picture shine?

It took far too long, yet barely any time at all, to realize that I was, in a way, attached, I suppose. Possibly. Yes, attached. When was the last time I felt some stirring inside me? When was the last time I felt such things to an individual. To anything at all?

It was honestly… pathetic.

But what was worse… in no time at all, whether I could help it or not, Twilight Sparkle’s sun would set, and she would leave me forever.

I detested the internal weight I became burdened with when I arrive at that conclusion. I was uncertain what to call this feeling. Heartache didn’t quite seem to sum it up. But at that point, what I detested even more was the thought of returning to the never-changing nothing when she ceased.

Caring for this filly became my life, what I lived for every day. Conflicted as I was, I knew now to cherish what I had with her. I would be a fool not to. She grew quickly, and as she did I learned more and more about her. Who she was beyond a master of magic and my star pupil, my protégé.

Her studies held the majority of her attention, as I knew all along, but the extent that she was… Well, I had assumed that her commitment was a temporary state. That she was a very focused pony, setting aside the fun things and her friends for a mad dash of education. I assumed that once she learned all she needed, she would return to the life of a normal pony while holding a job as my archmage.

It was only when she became a mare that I truly realized what was happening with Twilight Sparkle. She never once hinted that her studies would slow. She knew exactly two people, myself and her scribe, the baby dragon Spike. Her only friends were her books. She would consult with the volumes in her sleep if she thought she could. On her days off, I watched her as she continue to pour herself into their pages. She hadn’t talked to her parents at all since she began her study, not one letter or holiday. She had happily decided the life of a recluse bookworm was the best for her. Away from any ponies. Away from the court. Away from any contact that did not further her own educational gains.

Twilight Sparkle.

Don’t you understand just how…

Lonely.

That life is?

Yes… lonely. Lonely. That’s what the distant, empty life was. What my life had become. Lonely, lonely. Now that I knew the word it wouldn’t leave my head. It was the emotion that would weigh me down at the thought of losing her. I would again return to an empty, lonely life. That is what would happen. No one to talk to or love. No one to share my suffering with, or anyone to even tell me that I was suffering.

The pool inside my heart, the same pool Twilight cast her ripples across, seemed to solidify in between breaths. It was clear now, watching this mare tuck herself away in books. She was blindly running down the same path, by her own volition. The path of unforgiving loneliness.

Should I respect her choice? She was a grown pony. She knew what she was doing. No. Out of the question. Completely and totally out of the question. All ponies were just fillies and colts compared to me. She was foolish, refusing to acknowledge what was best for her. Twilight Sparkle was gifted, the brightest pony of a thousand generations.She stood above the pack, and wrote her own place in history. Into my own life. I could not, and would not let her suffer from her small areas of ignorance.

I urged her, make some friends, but she saw no value in that venture. Not when there was true learning to be had. So I sent her to learn the error of her ways, away from Canterlot and her books. Away, with my blessing, even as my heart felt heavier and heavier. Make friends. Make friends and tell me of what you’ve learned. So that maybe I may too learn about friendship.

So that I may too break this unending curse of loneliness.

Next Chapter: 2 Estimated time remaining: 45 Minutes
Return to Story Description

Login

Facebook
Login with
Facebook:
FiMFetch