Chapter Text
Equestria is difficult. No end of judgment and struggle is assigned to those motivated to leave for anything other than trade. The ponies that make up their hometown will paint them as an eccentric, finding excuses to justify their growing disdain. The ponies these travelers run into often have judgment of their own to pass, assuming the wanderer is running from something or too nosy for their own good. How this stigma manifests in different ways, changing from province to province. No sympathy is spared for those driven by curiosity, no sympathy is spared for those who just want to see it all.
The journey itself is just as taxing. Roads are, unkempt and often unfinished as they are, a luxury that a traveler isn’t always granted. Without a road, navigation can be a daunting task but a necessary one. Being lost is not an option. Death awaits anyone who ventures far, predators wait in the shadows — Or, in case of wyverns, the skies — ready to pick off lonesome ponies. But to be lost is to earn a much more sinister fate. Stories of what lie beyond Equestria, none of them pretty or kind, none of them matching up, and none of them ending well.
On top of all that, winter was reaching its peak. Most travelers have settled somewhere for the season, waiting out the cold before continuing. This majority, however, did not include Whimsical Aurora, a young unicorn mare with a wildfire in place of a heart, and her boyfriend Atlas, who would follow her anywhere she went. The two of them were painfully thorough in preparation and, more prominently, were lucky, making their adventure thus far an easy one. All the horror stories, from ponies being picked off by phoenix mothers to stumbling into a town that took to wanderers with violence, rang untrue for them.
They had their share of hiccups so far, the extra wheels they packed for their cart had come in handy, but nothing shook them from their goals. They found too much beauty for that, Whimsy especially. It wasn’t a surprise, she was the whole reason they found themselves out here at all, she reveled in every minute of it. She found beauty in the very world around them, ever changing as they passed through different territories, the roads now white with untouched snow and scenery that sat frozen in winter stillness. She found it in the ponies that they met too, getting to know what it was like to be them. She felt at home wherever they went. Connecting more and more with her own religion when learning how every other species approaches their own. For Atlas, though, it was never about their surroundings. It's not that the sights were unimpressive to him — No, they floored him, he felt a growing pride in exploring with Whimsy, a pride in knowing that he was doing something special. Mapping the world was no small task. And the world rewarded him in turn with unending marvels. — but rather, they didn’t hold a candle to the beauty he found in Whimsy the longer they traveled together. Nearly their whole lives had been spent together, he had seen every end of her curiosity. Her face lit up at new concepts, more enraptured with them the less she understood, and she faced her many consequences head on. Out here, it was no different, she delighted in learning all she could and handled every bump in the road like a champion. She was in her element, eager and undeniable, and that's what made all of this worthwhile to him.
More than worthwhile, even when the pair ran into a dragon earlier that day and Whimsy’s undeniability nearly took over. If that dragon was on the same side of the river, Atlas’ reminder that daylight was burning probably would’ve fallen on deaf ears. That was hours ago now and, made clear by her light-as-air trot, Whimsy was unphased. Atlas wasn’t so quick to bounce back, his nerves stalked him from the riverbed to the snow-covered path they found themselves now. It gnawed at him, he didn’t like the reality check that followed. Atlas looked to the sky, to clear his mind, ground himself in the fact that they were safe now and that should count for something.
Only he didn’t find peace of mind up there, the clouds above stirred, threatening a storm. Those stalking nerves claimed him as he ran through their options. They’d have to be insanely lucky to run into a town with an inn this far north and Atlas wasn’t too keen on high-risk gambling. They’d be safe from the wind here but risked getting snowed in. He stopped in his tracks, taking a quick moment to survey the best spot to pull the cart off the road. Whimsy didn’t hear the creaking wheels slow, she was just as mystified here as she was ten-twenty miles back. It was no surprise she missed Atlas falling behind, she trotted down this road that tripped most ponies who didn’t look. She did so with a confidence that only someone who had walked this road countless times before should have, leaving nothing but hoof prints and faint impressions from the orange embroidered scarf that trailed behind her.
“Whimsy.” Atlas’ now apparent distance made the grey mare double take before stopping. He offered her a smile. “We should stop for the night. It’s going to snow soon.”
Whimsy looked up, ears falling as she came to the same conclusion. She closed the distance between them to help Atlas drag the cart up off the road and into the trees.
“That's not fair. We didn’t get very far today. I think Luna should just keep her storms to herself until we make it off this mountain.” Whimsy mused, pulling the woven tarp back off the cart. Atlas didn’t respond, watching her dive headfirst and pull out their unmade tent. Whimsy placed it at her feet and looked back at him with a frown. He had turned away and was kicking the snow off his forehooves. “You’ve been quiet today, are you tired? I can pull the cart tomorrow.”
“I’m not tired. Plus,” His tone turned warm. “you’d complain.” Atlas shook his head. Whimsy’s frown turned into an indignant pout. He let out a quiet snort. “You would! You’d whine about how slow you have to pull it so you don’t lose a wheel and then get mad when it gets stuck in the snow. I know you better than that.”
“I’d still pull it!” He knew she would. “What is wrong then?” Whimsy rolled her eyes and began placing wedges under the cart's wheels to keep it from rolling away.
“You could’ve gotten hurt today, that's what.” Atlas unhooked himself from the cart, stretching his shoulders. “We don’t know anything about dragons, if we were any closer you would’ve pulled something risky.”
“Everything we do know about them suggests that northern dragons are wise. Most books say so! We could’ve talked to her.” Whimsy then began unpacking their equipment, setting everything in a dry spot under a large tree. “Plus,” Added in only to mock his earlier comment. “she seemed friendly!”
“Based on what?” His ears flattened in annoyance. There was no venom in his voice, he was worried and it wore clear in his knitted brow. “What if something happened to you?”
“Like what?” She laughed out loud, treating the entire conversation as if it was some silly hypothetical. “I would’ve had it under control. You forget, I’m the daughter of an accomplished arcane professor.”
“I forget nothing. She’s a regenerative professor, you can’t heal a dragon to death, babe. You need to be more careful.” Atlas stared at her with a scowl, irritated, not angry. He didn’t have it in him to be angry at anyone, and especially not her. Whimsy met his worry with a frown, she turned her attention to making a firepit and stacking leftover logs from the previous night. She did so with a careful precision, as if they weren’t going to be ash come sunup. Atlas shook his head with a nicker and took his cartography set from the cart.
“Where are we headed tomorrow?” He settled down by the firepit. He had thorough notes about every place they had gone so far. They contained everything from descriptions to local maps, all used to cross reference province borders and topography.
“We'll make our way through the mountain to the Ramshead Ministry.” Whimsy answered with an instant excitement, Atlas didn't have to look up, he could hear the smile growing on her face. Her horn lit up orange, painting the nearby snow in warm hues. In a flash the wood burst into a steady flame, bathing the area in warmth. Her horn went dark but the orange remained flickering on the snowy floor from the newly ignited campfire. “I’ve read they’ve got an amazing festival in a few days. It’s a must see.They headbutt each other for sport. It’s like jousting! I’m going to compete.”
“No, you are not!” Atlas laughed, scribbling away at the sketch before him. “They wouldn’t let you.”
“Oh you don’t know that. What happened to supporting my interests?” Whimsy propped up their tent, hammering the pegs down in the solid ground with her hooves. He laughed quietly.
“You’d get your ass kicked. I’m not carrying you home in the cart.” Atlas spoke in a soft amused tone, but his focus was mostly on his work. Whimsy responded with an offended snort.
“Whatever, when I get first place and win MVR, I expect an apology.” Whimsy wobbled her head in an arrogant, childish manner and grinned. Atlas paused his writing and looked at her, puzzled. She smiled more, proud of her very midtier joke. “Most Valuable Ram.”
“You’re too much.” Atlas didn’t grant her the honor of anything more than a smile. “And you’d be an ewe. Not a ram.”
“Wow. Not even going to humor me. I’m hurt.” She whinnied playfully before going back to their supplies, picking out what would be their dinner. Atlas continued making the map of the griffin territory they previously passed before his eyes were drawn away by the many maps of Equestria in its entirety. They were increasingly inaccurate, borders never lined up and the very geography itself was often misrepresented. Something else drew him to these maps though, in all their inconsistencies, the Ramshead Ministry’s location proved problematic. His ears fell, looking to Whimsy. She had settled into making dinner, roasting something over the unnaturally orange flame.
“We’re headed a little far east, don’t you think?” Whimsy’s brow lowered with Atlas’ words, he continued.“You want us to cut through the mountain. That’ll take us a week in this weather, and that's if we get lucky. We should head south, yeah? Down through the Batpony Republic. It’ll give us buffer time if things get bad up here before we can get off the mountain.” Whimsy’s face dropped a bit and his followed, he nudged her shoulder with his nose. “You’d miss the festival but we can stop by the batpony capital and see the decorations, all those lights? I’ve heard they’re lovely.”
“Yeah, that would be nice.” Whimsy smiled softly, she knew that the lights were lovely. She was the one who told him that. In fact, she made a show out of finding the book she read it in. It was the first bit of batpony focused text to hit the shelves at the library and Whimsy had just gotten good at sneaking reference books out of the place. They read it cover to cover in a single night and fantasized together about what it would be like. To celebrate the solstice somewhere so pretty. This compromise didn’t erase the fact that they wouldn’t see the rams, at least not yet, but it did make her feel warm with nostalgia.
“And.” He walked over to her, taking a seat by her side as she shifted a pan above the flame. He nudged her as he sat, getting a playful glare in return. “We can always go next year.”
“Really?” Her eyes lit up immediately, Atlas nodded.
“Only if you win the competition though. Otherwise, I go home and leave you there.” He snorts. Whimsy whinnied in delight, tapping her hooves in the soft snow below.
“I’ll make sure to practice with you until then.”
“That’s unfair, I don’t have a horn.”
“I can make a paper mache one!”
“How kind.” Atlas sneered, garnering a giggle out of Whimsy. She pulled the grilled veggies off the flame. Her horn lit up in a brighter flash, letting off the faintest twinkle. Atlas raised a brow at her. “Faking seasoning again?”
“Going to arrest me over it? We’re running low, until we hit a town you’ll just have to cope.” She offered him a plate, one taken from her with fake judgment. “I’m not that great of a cook, this is for your sake.”
“Yeah, alright. Guess it’s not long until we’re home and your mom makes that panzanella. I’ve been craving it since we left!” Atlas laughed wistfully. Whimsy smiled softly, slowly dropping it as she became lost in thought. One would think being so far from a loving family would feel disorienting. Just a pony away from being completely isolated, stranded even. Alone in a winter storm, in the middle of a mountain. Shouldn’t that thought make her scared? Or at the very least sad? Whimsy picked at her food aimlessly for a time before snapping out of it to the sound of Atlas’ plate being cleaned off with fresh snow and put to the side. “You alright?”
“Yes?” She answered, followed by a thoughtful pause. “Yeah, I’m great.”
“I’m going to turn in for the night. Are you coming?” His voice did little to hide his exhaustion. Atlas worked off routines, she did too to some degree, which was comforting knowing they’d be spending the rest of their lives together. Whimsy surrounded herself with chaos and unknowns often but she valued coming ‘home’ to something concrete, something she could rely on and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, would be the way it's supposed to and has always been. She had learned that he sleeps early and wakes up late, something that he will pretend on Whimsy’s endless chatter. Another thing was that he could never get enough of her chatter. Which had led her to believe that he was a Cadence-given gift, a pony who didn’t have it in him to be tired of her despite being the tiredest pony she knew. Whimsy watched him move from the plate to the rest of their food, tying the bag of it up and swung the cord at the top around the trunk of a tree. He pulled it tight and the bag raised up off the ground. They had both learned their lesson after their campsite got raided by a black bear near changeling territory. It was one trick of many that they adopted into their routine.
“No, not yet. I’ll be there soon. I love you.”
“Mhm. I love you too” He had expected that response but always made it a point to ask. She struggled settling herself to sleep, something he has come to both love and fuss over. Whimsy had enough energy to burn through multiple all-nighters sometimes, she could run herself thin if she wasn’t reminded that yes, sleeping was an option and, more importantly, a really good idea. He also knew better than to push her on it.
Atlas ducked into the tent, leaving the fur door pinned open to let light and warmth from the fire inside, another trick they had adopted. Whimsy finished eating and finished her half of the clean up before letting herself get lost in thought. She looked back near the road, which, were it not for the fire lighting half the forest, would be completely black by now. The storm had settled in and Whimsy thanked Luna for the lack of winds. Just heavy snow, she could handle that much. She trotted away from the camp and toward the trail that was now fully blanketed in fresh, thick snowfall. The closer she got, the higher the snow, coming up to her ankles at the woods’ edge. Stillness had taken over the forest, as did a heavy fog that sat dense at her hooves. Her gaze turned skyward, taking note of every star that managed to peek through the dark clouds. She strained her eyes to find The Star of Radiance, a star she knew well. She focused on the cloud that was obstructing it and closed her eyes. Some nights it felt like she could map the stars with her eyes closed, Luna’s doing as her parents put it. Her mom was a florist and her mother, an arcane professor. Celestia and Cadence had very active roles in their daily lives. Luna sent them Whimsy to make them ‘whole’. Her knack for navigation was a gift, the confidence and curiosity it fueled were less celebrated. It was hard to tell a child that could find her way home, no matter how dark the night, that wandering off was a bad idea. It was even harder to tell that same pony, now skilled in healing magic, to not wander into the Equestrian unknown. She gave them the runaround her entire childhood and now stood miles and miles away, surely they worried just as much as Atlas did, if not more. She promised to think of them during her nightly meditations each night, one that, with The Star, she did happily.
A breeze ran through, blowing a flurry into Whimsy’s face. She let out a squeal in surprise, backing into the safety under the canopy of fir trees. She shook her mane free of snowflakes and coughed from the dry wind.
“Are you okay?” Atlas sounded off from the tent, he sounded tired.
“Stray gust, sorry! Yes!” Whimsy laughed. “I’m coming to bed now.”
Atlas answered only in a hum that wouldn’t reach her. Whimsy’s nose still sat wrinkled up, fighting away a sneeze. She did her best to ignore it, magically snuffing the flames and double-checking that the cart was secure. She let out a yawn and headed into the tent, closing the door flap behind herself. She folded her capelet and laid in on the tent floor and settled into the bed next to Atlas, placing her head on his shoulder.
They laid for a while, neither sleeping for a long time. Atlas would’ve if winter travel didn’t leave him so sore, but Whimsy was always slow to sleep. She wasn’t complaining though, meditation and self reflection was key to magic, she was an expert at spending time alone with her thoughts. Her mother valued a well-traveled mind, as she put it, and letting it wander was only healthy. Usually, she thought of next steps, facts about wherever they ended up in the coming days, and the way she planned to write it down. That last one usually led to her getting up to journal before the thought left her. Tonight, thought, worry weighed on her. Atlas was right, not about heading south — Though, he was right there too — but about her safety. The thought that almost reached her outside caught up with her here. If something happened to her out here, it would ruin her parents and baby sister. None of them liked the idea of her going this far. Not only would most unicorn parents lose their minds at the idea, Whimsy’s mother had a rocky history with travel herself. It was a miracle she said yes to begin with, it would be cruel to prove their fears correct. An ache landed heavy in her chest, she looked to Atlas, wanting to thank him.
Gratitude would have to wait, though. Atlas stared at the tent door, alert as his tired eyes allowed. His ears twitched, listening hard but hearing mostly nothing but cold, empty silence. He had noticed how quiet the winter nights had become, the crickets no longer chirped and any animals that would usually rustle nearby had gone dormant. It wasn’t upsetting until now. Whimsy stared at him in surprise, briefly looking at the tent door before returning.
“What is it?” Whimsy asked a little too loud for Atlas’ comfort. He hushed her with a whisper. Whimsy’s ears went flat to her head and she watched his ears move. His face was taught and unsure.
“I think there’s someone out there.” He was barely audible.
“Like a pony?” She tried to match his volume. Atlas glanced at her, giving a brisk shake of his head.
“Can’t tell.” He leaned closer to the shut tent door. There were crackles, leading both Whimsy and Atlas to wonder if the fire was put out properly, before a yelp broke the silence completely. Whimsy spent no time hopping up and throwing open the door to their tent. Her horn shone a brilliant orange as she leapt out of the tent, aiming it toward the sound, hooves flailing as she reared. Chest out and head high, she faced its source. A wild, unnecessary display.
A pony recoiled from the sudden light and movement, scrambling back from the barely-sputtering fire pit before him. His horn glowed an odd black, the light of it erratically dimming and reigniting as he lost any focus he had on maintaining it correctly.
He said something, shaken, under his breath, eyes avoiding Whimsy entirely as he dipped his head. She assumed he was apologizing. Her stance relaxed and her magic went dim. Her head cocked curiously, surveying the pony in front of her. He was a unicorn, at least at first glance, despite having ears bigger than any unicorn she’s met. He stood tall and lanky, hooves shaking enough to cause an avalanche in the next mountain over.
“Hi?” The edges of Whimsy’s mouth teased a smile, amused by the insane coincidence of running into a pony all the way out here. Where one would see a stranger and think robber, Whimsy landed on something much more pretty by default. Assuming the best in people had served her well enough this far. She hardly stifled her smile. “Who are you?”
The stranger stilled the shake in his hooves, failing to do the same with his snow pelted coat. He stood a bit taller, gathering himself. Not, unicorn, obvious now with the leathery wings that clung close to his sides. This lavender pony before her was an alicorn, a batpony alicorn. He took in a shaken breath before speaking.
“My name is Gilded Eclipse.” He paused in thought before adding a demand. “I will be staying here for the night.”
“That so?” She laughed, which was met with a cautious frown. “Well you’d probably freeze out there, so we're happy to have you.”
“Why are you in our camp?” Atlas had been watching from the door but now stood at her side to speak his mind. A development that seemed to startle their new friend, who eyed their tent with a look of dread. He wouldn’t have the time to recover or answer Atlas’ question, though. A realization dawned on Whimsy, compelling her to speak, loud enough to startle their company once more.
“You’re the prince! That’s insane.” She no longer fought her smile back but reminded herself that Atlas’ question was more important, which meant it was worth repeating. “What are you doing out here?”