Great Heart Will Not Be Denied

Edited by: RazedRainbow King of the Unsung, The Ever-faithful LonelyBrony the Shotgun Surgeon, qr7randomguy the Sunderer of Paradise, Invictus_Rising the Bringer of Music, LHmac Maiden of the Imploring Twilights, and (maybe) Nothing is Constant Bearer of the Royal Train of Rarity GIFs

1. I Trembled Under a Baleful Moon

Rarity cowered in one of the hundreds of alleys that crisscrossed the white-washed tomb city like worms in the body of a decaying giant. It was night, and only the moon provided her with light. It wasn’t enough; past her hooves the world was a sinister mystery.

She shivered, and cursed the Endless City for perhaps the third time in the last hour. It was no place for a lady—not anymore, anyway. But Rainbow needed her; there was no time for complaining. The margin of error, the line between life and death, was so thin that it terrified her. It wasn’t right; what had she done to deserve this? What had Rainbow? It wasn’t fair. But of course, a Lady had to deal with an unfair—

She heard It again, or rather, Them. Thought died; all desire to move or exist vanished. She was a leaf, and the report of the nameless horror’s passing was like the wind. She looked away, the aura of its wrongness hitting her like a tidal wave. She knew it was there, slithering along like some awful adder in the street. That was the wrong word. There were no words. Wait until it passes, wait until it passes, wait until it passes...

It was gone, and she let out a strangled sob. She had let herself forget that the streets of Jannah were abandoned for a reason. Age had nothing to do with it.

Her guides had warned her, of course. When they’d shown her the dry culvert and pried open the rusting grate, they’d told her about Them.

“Sure, are ye? It’s a wee bit worse than yer ken, I’ll wager.”

“Aye, worse and more. Lady, we won’t go in withee, please come back.”

She shook her head. “No. I believe you, gentlecolts. I promise you, I do not make light of what may lay beyond these walls. But I have no choice. This is life or death. Rainbow... she needs me. Would you abandon that wife of yours, Root?”

The crimson earth pony wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Nay, Lady. I’ll tellee no more, yer set in the stones, then. Please, if ye go, go with Eon’s gaze on ye.”

“Life and death, if yer ken, may end up just death,” Root added grimly. “Go then, goodmare. May the Mare of Stars be singin’ over ye.”

She did her best to calm herself, and shakily stood. It was time to get going. She’d rested long enough. The coast wasn’t getting any clearer, and she needed to get inside. This building would have to do.

She now knew why they’d been so vague. There was no way to describe what prowled the streets of Jannah at night. She’d not been honest with them; she had quite suspected that their fears were little more than superstition. It had been D’Jalin she’d worried about as she had slipped underneath the tall, imperial walls. His mercenaries were frightening, but she’d fought off changelings before with only her hooves, her horn, and the help of her friends. If all went well, they’d never see her. Stealth was simply discretion in practice, really—and a lady was always discrete. She’d told herself this perhaps a hundred times since entering the city.

She almost lost her balance, stepping out onto the street, expecting any moment for that Thing to be there, waiting. The vague feeling of being watched that had trailed her since morning rose to a feverish pitch.

Nothing.

Tearfully thankful, she dodged out into the street and into the closest doorway.

She found the door with her magic and closed it quietly but quickly. She felt the ancient magics on it, worn smooth by time in a way only a unicorn could understand. They had built this place to last an eternity, and, despite her terror, it was all rather impressive with its arches and grace.

It was a private residence. A tattered tapestry hung on the wall, and she smiled grimly, knowing that no moth had eaten of it. Nothing living took up residence in Jannah anymore.

Carefully, she reached with her magic into her saddlebag. She felt around the smooth, cold iron plate at its base and sighed. She hated the instrument, but her need was dire. The Captain had given it to her, and a Lady never refused any needful gift, no matter how distasteful...or frightening.

She pulled it free and held it up. With another small burst of magic, she lit the top of her horn.

The Griffon blunderbuss pistol reflected the light off of the iron plate on its handle. Her hooves shook as she slowly advanced deeper into the house, shining her light and pointing the gun into rooms. Dash would know how to do this. She’d be a lot better at this than I am.

The irony that it was she who was rescuing Rainbow had not been lost on her. It was ludicrous. Rainbow was the fighter, the brave one. She did what she had to. But Rainbow... Rainbow should be where she was now, scared out of her mind that any moment one of those mercenaries would jump out and grab her. She’d been warned that their patrols took shelter in the houses at night, waiting for the Nameless to fade away with the sun.

Her two guides had been as helpful as they could be, which wasn’t very. Check every room, every corner. Search in every cabinet and closet or block them up. Block the doors.

She did these things in silence, feeling more and more like an intruder with every step. The walls felt like they were watching her and judging her progress. The house had begun to lose its charm.

She came to what appeared to be a dining room and peered in. It had been majestic once; she knew this immediately. A place of refinement, a noble family’s haunt. Her imagination, on overdrive with all of the stress crawling through the city, saw young unicorns trot into the brightly lit room, laughing amongst themselves and chattering about lessons taught to them by tutors of the city’s vast reservoir of magic. She could almost see a refined servant standing with stiff pride off to the side, ready to perform the duties he had invested his life into. She imagined that, long ago, their fath—

There was a pony in the room.

She whirled, planting herself against the doorway and out of his sight. Her light went out, and it was all she could do not to scream and drop the blunderbuss.

Stupid! Oh Rarity, how could you be such a fool? But he had been so still. He hadn’t moved at all. She’d almost not recognized him as a pony.

Rarity was on the verge of hyperventilating. Calm… calm… oh goddess, what if I just can’t hear him?

She had to do something. She had to move or fight or run, but her legs were in full rebellion. She pried herself off the wall and shakily stepped into the doorway again, shining her light to blind the threat. She could deal with him—she had to. He wouldn’t be alone. Rarity threw her magic light into the center of the room.

Her flare burned low on the stone floor. The stallion—she could see him well now—stood stock still, staring at an old tapestry. His weapons were piled on the table, as was his black iron helmet. The light hung in the air behind him, casting his face into deepest shadow, but she was sure that his gaze didn't waver. His head never moved an inch in her direction.

“They are all gone,” he said, not moving his eyes from the figures of the dancing ponies.

Rarity shivered, and the gun shook in her magical grip. She wanted to think it was all the strain on her abilities, but she knew it was fear.

“They all listened to the Noise. Have you ever listened to the Noise? It is so much prettier in the end than Silence and Music. I think I will go out soon, into the streets and listen to the Noise. The others did. They should have waited for me. Noise should be enjoyed together.”

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, though the warnings that she’d been given came rushing back to her. This pegasus stallion was only barely that. He had probably been a colt but two years ago, and unlike the others she had seen glaring up and down the empty streets, he bore no braided beard or ruined face.

She recognized what this was. They had warned her, after all. The houses were haunted, they’d said. At the time, she had filed that tidbit under “Unlikely” and pretended to accept their wisdom. But now she knew better. The haunting was real, and so apparently was the whispering in the halls. The old matrons had warned of it, but it had been a young stallion Root’s age who had provided her with detail: those who stayed in the walls for too long, in the houses of the dead, began to lose themselves. They would hear whispering everywhere, and soon it became like background noise and it stopped bothering them at all. And then, at last, they began to slow and falter, standing in place as if in contemplation. At last, they became the Dead, and would file out into the streets called by some siren’s song of Them and would be devoured in the dark. They did this willingly; there was no saving them. Trying to touch them would make them cry and complain about the heat, and then they would attack and try to rip their would-be savior apart.

He continued staring, without anything else to say. It occurred to her that it could be all a ruse to make her lower her guard, but somehow the unnatural stillness seemed to confirm that perhaps he was truly walking dead.

She felt something else besides horror: pity. He was so young. He was handsome, and perhaps under the influence of charity, she could imagine that once he had had a kind face. His eyes were glazed over now, going gray.

“Why were you here? With these stallions?” she asked softly.

“Valon. I am from Valon, on the coast. Adventure,” he said, his voice betraying no emotion. There was no inflection, no signs at all that he even knew what he was saying. “There was no Noise in Valon. I like the Noise.”

“What was your name, gentlecolt?” Why was she asking him these things? It was absurd. However young he was, he had been in the company of murderers and thieves. Youth did not make for purity of heart or purpose.

“North Star. Not many pegasi in Valon, parents had to pick a name from stories. Where is the Noise? Do you make the Noise? I wish I had the Noise.”

She wished that he had said it in a whining voice. She wished he had been confused or angry, anything at all. But his voice was without difference. It simply was.

It was like poking at a dead body. The immense indecency of it appalled her. She would leave him alone. She couldn’t bear to watch him much longer.

“Goodbye, North Star. You chose poorly. I-I’m sorry.” She did her best to control the shaking her voice.

“Goodbye. Would you tell me where I can find the Noise? You have a song, but I would like the Noise. I know that you are a song but do you have Noise? Where is…”

She was already gone, retreating swiftly down the hall. I can’t stay in any of these rooms. None of the beds and none of the couches. Shan’t touch anything. There but for grace go I… oh Celestia! Oh Luna!

The one thing that they’d told her that she’d taken for good news: none of the Things flew. They were creatures of the Earth, bound to the ground. Root and Branch, the two hardy earth ponies, had advised her to seek high shelter, preferably on top of the roofs.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Verily, Lady. If ye ken, Them’s things can’t be flyin’ or climbin’. Leaving yon ground wounds ‘em.”

She came to a door that was closed and gently wrapped the handle in her magic. Taking a deep breath, she flung it open and pointed her weapon into the gap.

There was nothing. A pantry, or a closet. She let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been bottling up. For a brief second, she had been worried about finding another Gray Eyed, like North Star.

They’d handed her the ragged tarp and she’d stared at it and them like they were mad.

“Trust me. This way they won’t be seein’ you from the air.”

She found the stairs up to the roof and pushed the doors aside.

There’d been a roof garden here once, she could tell immediately. She recognized the ruined structure was a gazebo, or had been. It was foolish, in all of this danger, but it filled her with sadness. She imagined it how it must have been, before all the tragedy that had befallen the great city. Ponies must have come here to watch the sunset. A husband and wife, with their foals playing or asking questions about the stars... and now it was all gone.

She imagined herself and Rainbow. A glass of wine, you, me, and the stars. Twilight always said it was a wonderful pastime. She could almost see it.

She’d lay in Rainbow’s warm forelegs, and feel the soft touch of her favorite pegasus’ wing draped over her like a blanket. Rainbow Dash would tell her stories from her travels with Twilight, casting light on the mysteries of the far West. Rarity would listen intently, but her real attention would be on Rainbow. She’d finally come home after two months, after all, and Rarity would want to breathe in as much of her familiar scent and feel as much of her familiar, welcome warmth as she could...

The cold night slowly drove out her imaginings.

She sniffed, and was angry to find tears forming. This is not a good time for this, Rarity. A Lady knows when to give into her emotions and when to keep her upper lip stiff. Come now.

But it was hard not to think such thoughts, now that she could see the city laid out around her. The earth pony tribe across the river had been reticent about it, and really all she knew for sure was that it was haunted and the site of some great evil. What evil it was seemed to either escape all those she’d asked, or else they’d feared telling her. Her attempts to pry the information out of her hosts had been met with nervous shuffling and ears being laid against skulls in dismay. The earth ponies in the village had genuinely been terrified of this place.

She didn’t blame them.

The city went on far as the eye could see, lit up here and there by magical lamps that had been burning before Canterlot had ever been built. She’d had hours to get used to it, but it was still unnerving. Magic covered this city like a blanket, keeping it all still and standing. Everything stayed as it had for thousands of years. Unless some scavenger knocked it over, it never changed. Even then, the scattered pieces and dust of any carelessly destroyed vase stayed where they were. Nothing decayed here. Of course, nothing lived here either. Not for long.

Jannah was white, crafted from marble and magic. The tribe who had so kindly given her succor had been vague on how or when, but they’d known that the city itself had been built rather quickly with magic beyond what was available to even the Archmage. They’d tried to match Empyrea here, or so the natives had told her. They’d reached far and been mighty, with eyes that shone like the sun and hooves that walked sheathed in gold.

“Empyrea?”

They’d described the distant Isles to her, beyond the mists, farther from Jannah than Jannah was from Ponyville. A library that seemed to go on forever, filled with the deepest secrets ponies knew. Spires that touched heaven and reached deep down into the black rock of the Earth. Jannah had been a kind of sister city, the younger of two beautiful siblings.

They had chosen to build their city around the site of The Song, or as it became known, the Fountain. When the ponies of the forest talked about it, their voices had dropped to an awed, reverent murmur. The Fountain of Kyrie, at the heart of the great dead city, on the top of the Acropolis of Time.

Fallen into ruins now, though. She wondered what it was that they’d wished for. What could they have done to create such a terrible place?

She dug the folded tarp out of her saddlebag, and examined it with scorn. It was full of holes, and already she knew that she would come to despise it. But she had no choice; Root and Branch had been rather insistent about it. That, and waking up early to get out of plain sight, but she supposed that she could do that. It’d be a miracle if she got any sleep at all in this place.

Rarity shivered, and wondered if this would really be enough. The brothers had seemed confident that it would serve her well, and it occurred to her to test it for enchantment. Stranger things than earth ponies enchanting could be found in the wide and dangerous West.

Sure enough, it had an odd aura about it. She huffed, impressed despite herself. They really did things differently out here.

Equestria. She missed it terribly.

She unfolded the tarp and lay herself down, casting another tendril of her magic out to take the saddlebags off of her back. She laid it beside her, and got comfortable on the smooth stone. She let the tarp down.

It was a remarkable change. As soon as it touched the ancient marble, she could feel a strange pulsing, and the sheet seemed to stretch and contract and tremble. Finally, it was still and somehow she knew that it had changed somehow.

Camouflage. They really do care! Perhaps they were gentlecolts after all.

That was a bit unfair. This was the closest they had to a holy site, after all. Holy ban on it and all that.

She lifted the edge of the covering, and waited for a change in the magic. She felt nothing, and smiled. Excellent, I can perhaps keep an eye on my surroundings without blowing my cover, as it were. She smiled weakly at that.

It was a good thing, too. She felt watched, as if someone was sitting in the back of her mind. A hitchhiker, in a way, though the idea was foolish. She worried perhaps that her instincts were trying to warn her that she wasn’t as hidden as she would like, but the feeling stayed no matter where she went. Even in cellars and under bridges she had felt eyes on her.

Looking out, she tried to plan her route. She’d have to leave this district, heading over the dried up moat, and either through the gate or over the walls into the next one over. She wasn’t sure how she’d handle it yet—No doubt the gate would be guarded as soon as the sun was up, with one or two spear-armed ponies watching the eerily delicate bridge for trespassers or scavengers. Climbing would probably be her only choice... and it worried her. Ponies were not built for climbing.

But her friends had shown her how, and they’d given her their four hooks. Ghastly things... but I suppose a Lady does what is necessary.

Soon, she was too weary to plot and plan. Still feeling watched, but convinced it was only her nerves from seeing North Star earlier, she let sleep overtake her. She closed her eyes and saw Jannah in her dreams, and knew that it was exactly how it had once been, though she had never seen it in glory. Its towers were beautiful and pristine, its streets full of happy and wise ponies, its nights full of dancing and happiness, its days full of industry and peace. And at the center of it all, she saw herself and Rainbow walking down a long path set in stone high on the windy acropolis towards the round columned Tholos, towards a pool that held stars. She looked over and smiled at Rainbow, and Rainbow smiled back.

“Eon,” Rainbow said, and nuzzled her. But Rainbow was fading, her mane shrinking and her face morphing. Yet Rarity felt no real alarm as she felt herself change. She was, after all not a mere unicorn. All was right and as it should be. This was her love, her Blue Skies. They often walked to the sacred fountain together, to gaze into the starry waters and talk quietly. It was her right, as a Daughter, and it was his privilege, as her husband, to accompany her.

The wind blew her long white mane into her face and she chuckled. “If I could only see it, it is a beautiful day.” She wiped the errant strands away as Skies answered her.

“Yes. I am glad for the rain and the coolness, but I prefer it this way. It’s in my name, after all.”

“You seem eager for the sky. We could always fly instead, as you know.” She said playfully, bumping into him.

Blue Skies rolled his eyes and kept walking. “Putting aside the mild embarrassment of being completely outflown by my wife, I am not always as hungry for the air as you think. Besides, I enjoy the silence and the… water.”

She accepted this happily. It was so strange, to see how ponies who weren’t alicorns reacted to the majesty of the Fountain of Kyrie. She herself came to it as if coming home—for that was what she was doing, having been born out of it in Song. But Blue Skies was a pegasus, a distant scion of her proud and aggressive sister Aurora.

Eon had had no children. In the nights, when the lamps lit up the city below in their gentle glow, she wondered what race she could have given lift to in this valley.

As they came at last to the Tholos, both of them stopped at the top step. She sighed, feeling a deep sense of peace. It had been too long since she came home. Anything longer than a day was too long. She did not know how her brothers and sisters survived such distance and lack.

Her husband trembled, almost falling to his feet. He bowed, as if laden with some burden. Gently, Eon reached down and kissed his cheek. It was not unpleasant, she knew, for a mortal to come here… but it was intense. It had always been so. The first time she had brought him here, he had collapsed outright.

At last, he seemed to calm himself and straightened up. “Sorry,” he said with a small grin.

She laughed at him, finding him silly. “Of course. ‘Tis only a sign of your goodness after all, to bow in the presence of the Song of all Songs!”

“It is so hard… to believe that this is truly the womb of Creation.”

He walked into the Tholos proper, his steps measured. He came to the fountain and paused. Eon knew that in his mind he was beginning to hear Song, and his eyes wished to drown themselves in the pool. It was no sin to do so. Usually she would have let him… but today she wanted to talk to him.

She was behind him, kissing his neck, his shoulder. Startled, he turned to look at her. She giggled.

“I am in the home of my Mother, it is quite proper. I know what that look means, you silly. Come, sit with my on the benches.”

“Womb. It’s not quite the right word, you know,” she began as they sat down together, facing the pool. From this distance, the immense star field hadn’t quite the same sway on his mortal eyes, but still brought a supernal sense of peace.

“What would the right word be, love?”

“Cradle? No. I suppose there are no words for the Fountain of Kyrie. It was not a fountain once, you know… but you do not, perhaps. I will tell you about it some day, long from now. Would you like that? To hear all the story at last?”

“I would.”

“Then I shall remember.” And she would. A tiny drop of trouble splashed in the sea of peace. It was dispersed and weakened, but still it remained that he would learn when finally he had to leave her.

“You seemed to have something on your mind today, my love. Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but… May I ask what it is?”

She smiled. Blue Skies always forgot who he was now, and she found it adorable. “No need to stand on ceremony, knight. It is perhaps not… bothering me. ‘Bother’ is such an ugly word for such a beautiful line of thought. More so it has been making its case to me.”

“It?” He seemed intrigued. She grinned at his open curiosity. Only a Goddess could perhaps truly appreciate how wonderful it was to see her ponies lose their shells of pride and stoicism, or better yet their adoration. It was why she’d been so excited to bring Blue Skies here, when first she’d opened herself up to the possibility of love. Here, in the presence of something that drew his innate sense of awe more to itself than she ever could, they could finally be equals. Here he was a child as much as she was.

“I was thinking about my sister, Aurora, who gave birth to your tribe.”

“Aurora? Do you miss her?”

He sounded so sad! She wanted to kiss his little frown away, and chuckle. Oh, silly little ponies, who did not understand death! They still thought Aurora, Gaia, and Dusk to be waiting in the Silent Halls. They couldn’t see the spark in themselves, and it was very silly of them.

“No, no. She… how shall I explain? I suppose she is in you.”

“Me?” He seemed so puzzled. His mask of knightly pride and surety was amusing and fun, but his confusion and curiosity was what she loved. It was closer to the truth.

“Of course, my little pony,” she said, taking on a regal tone. Here, it was out of place, and the silliness of it caused them both to laugh. “But yes. When my sister gave up herself to make your forefathers, she never went away. You all bear a bit of her soul inside of you. It’s what makes you brave, Skies. You are Aurora in a way, and not in another. It is both true and false to say that she is in you still. That is the way of Creation.”

“I… that is a strange thought.”

“It is!” she said, delighted. “Yes, yes. It is, but it is more the saying of it that is strange, I think. I know all of your tribe’s many tales of warriors and heroes who call on the Spirit of Aurora to save them or their loved ones. The idea that she lives in you still as a kind of shadow is a myth or fable. Think… that the myth becomes fact.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever understand you or keep up.” He grinned suddenly. “In any way.”

“Well, you are gaining on me in height,” she said, offering him his consolation. It was true; one did not dally with the Guardians of Creation without some lovely side effects. She had to say that long legs looked particularly pleasing on him. She nuzzled him, breaking her gaze on the fountain to do so. She knew she must seem silly to him, but this place always changed her.

“I suppose that’s some consolation. So what made you think about Aurora?”

She looked out on the wide and beautiful city of Jannah.

“I think I am like my sister, Celestia. I wanted children of my own to live in the valley that I call home… but I still wish to know them myself. Alicorns have always had choices to make. So I invited ponies to live here in my valley, and share time and love with me and each other. Has it not been good? But… I still feel a strange emptiness inside. I would have a child.”

It was a credit to him that in such a place of peace that Blue Skies could manage a look of alarm. He sputtered, his line of sight on the fountain broken. “M-my… I mean…” He tensed, putting on that mask of duty he loved so much on, and she frowned down at him. “It would be sad, for your people… if you were to go away from us and do what... A-Aurora did.”

“No, no. Stop trying to be my Marshal for a moment, my good stallion, and be my lover. You don’t have to earn that—say what you mean.”

“I don’t want you to leave me,” he answered quietly, looking down. “But I don’t wish for you to be sad. I don’t understand what you mean by all this.”

“And that is good. No, I will not be mother to a tribe. I have you, after all. No, I have another plan in mind. A letter came, from Equestria, in the East. Celestia has foaled, and since she knows that I cannot bear to leave, she has given me drawings of him and a long letter about it. I read it while you were on duty today. I… I would like to follow the example of my younger sister.”

It was amazing how quickly mortals could turn when the need was there to do so. Instantly, his look of pain was replaced by one of pure joy. “I have wondered about that more than you know.”

Eon, for once allowing herself to wear the silly mask of the Alicorn queen, kissed his forehead.

“I know and see more than you think, brave little knight.”

Rarity awoke aching. The sun was rising, and she shut her eyes as soon as she opened them. She groaned.

Her mind was foggy, confused from its strange dream. She remembered Rainbow Dash and her child-like grin… or had that been a stallion? She knew his hair had been that same rainbow color, and she knew that was rare. What had she been dreaming about?

She shook her head. It really didn’t matter.

Another day. That’ll make twelve since Twilight came back. Twenty-five since Rainbow was taken.

Almost a whole month. It ate at her heart that her rescue had been so long in coming. She had tried her best, but navigation and travel had never been fortés of hers. The Captain had helped as much he could, but his own strangeness had pulled them along detours that she now found to be of dubious merit.

But it was the morning of a new day. Rainbow was right in front of her, somewhere in the massive outcropping of stone called the Acropolis. Inside, she’d been told, there were miles of caverns and halls and rooms. Rainbow would be in one of them.

She rose and stretched, hearing her back pop. Thinking about those rooms brought images of them, both ruined and old and before, when they were young. She’d always been blessed with a vivid imagination, she supposed.

Packing the tarp away and checking to make sure her gun was alright took only a moment, and then she was heading down the stairs.

North Star was gone. Just to make sure, she checked the dining room again, and found it empty. She shivered, remembering his solid gray eyes. His gear and supplies lay on the table in a tiny, neat pile.

Feeling sordid, she trotted over and found a loaf of bread in his supplies. Excellent. I am sorry, North Star. And she was. It felt wrong… but her own supplies would not last forever, and she’d have to get all the way back to the village in the trees on what she had, feeding herself and Rainbow. She would need more than she had already.

Taking a bite of her stolen food and gathering some more with a grimace of distaste, she left his weapons and jet black armor behind. She could have taken it as a disguise, she supposed, but even had such an endeavor been practical… it was simply too much. There were limits to what simple survival could push her.

She went back to the foyer and stepped out into the day, blinking in the sun.

Rainbow was closer than before, and that was what she had to focus on. She couldn’t think about North Star, or her dream. She had to think about Rainbow.

She took to the alleys again with as much silence as she could muster, working her way towards the next wall. All the while, she felt eyes on her as she had the day before.