Freebie Mondays: My Little Domerin – Episode 1: Act 1

I promised my twitch chat I would take Domerin, the grumpy elf main character from the Aruvalia Chronicles, and turn him into a pony if they helped me pay for my replacement computer. I never thought we’d reach that goal – but of course we did. Because my twitch chat continues to be the most generous community out there.

For more details on the project, check the intro. (There are pictures of my characters converted into ponies there as well.)

This story is meant to take place in the same world as “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic,” though it’s unlikely any of the characters from the show will appear in the story. I have attempted to adopt the style of storytelling used by the show (including an episodic format and a ‘season’ instead of chapters in a novel). And some of the ponies that appear were created by donators from my chat. VoDs of the writing sessions are available on my youtube channel!

I hope you enjoy this crazy, silly little romp!
. . .

The sun rose high and strong over a sleepy little day in Silvergarden, Aruvalia’s capital city, dousing the streets in gold and causing windows to sparkle beneath the cloudless sky. It was no great shock to find such quiet stillness in the palace courtyard, since most days in Silvergarden could be considered both drowsy and calm. Even when it rained, there was a sense of peace that permeated Aruvalia’s capital and infused its citizens as they went about their business.

Not since the Great Cataclysm had chaos roiled through this region, tearing families and alliances to shreds and sowing destruction and strife in its wake.

A lesser soul might have romanticized those days, maybe even wished for their return. But that was not the case for Domerin Lorehooves. Truth be told, he appreciated the quiet equilibrium currently embraced by the royal palace and the city beyond. It was, after all, his job to ensure the peace and tranquility of his beloved home remained untouched.

It wasn’t always easy. Even peaceful ponies had some wild ideas about proper conduct. But Domerin still took great pride in his accomplishments. He witnessed them even in the absence of others – mostly because there were no cries filling the hallways nor demands for his attention.

The captain of Aruvalia’s Royal Guard smiled to himself as he lifted his horned head to gaze at the gleaming statue of his kingdom’s greatest hero. Many ponies were celebrated in Aruvalia for their ingenuity, intelligence and skill. But none were so deserving of admiration in his opinion that the decorated warrior that stood before him.

Carved from a stone so dark it almost appeared black in certain light, the unicorn bore a quiet sort of dignity. Rather than the jewels that often adorned other noble figures, this pony – the greatest warrior that ever lived – was depicted in his armor and bearing the weapons he used to defend the fledging kingdom of Aruvalia from the chaos and destruction that threatened to consume it. The outfit was of simple design, and the swords were undecorated. The artist, whoever they had once been, wisely decided to preserve the simple design, embellishing only with the Aruvalia royal crest – a rose set into the hilt of a sword flanked on either side by a pair of white-feathered wings.

Domerin shifted the weight of his hooves as his gaze traced the proudly chiseled jaw line and noted the demure sweep of the warrior’s mane. He was poised for a sword strike in this statue, his great sword rising from behind his back, its tip expertly aimed at the heart of some invisible assailant. The slightest hint of a triumphant smirk adorned the pony warrior’s face, and Domerin liked to imagine this depiction captured the final moments of the Cataclysm’s final battle – the moment just before the entire war was won.

Domerin didn’t put much stock in fame or glory. He hadn’t worked as hard as he had to attain his current position in order to gain either. But he did believe the pony whose countenance filled this courtyard deserved every ounce of praise and admiration directed toward his memory by the generations of Aruvalians who lived after him.

He had, after all, been the savior of their kingdom, the preserver of their culture and the protector of the realm until the day he finally ceased to draw breath.

“Enjoying your daily visit to the old man, boss?” A familiar – and slightly grating – voice declared shockingly close to Domerin’s right ear.

He flipped the appendage backward then forward before gritting his teeth to contain his temper. If anything, he should be angry that he once again allowed himself to become so absorbed in his study of this ancient hero, he didn’t hear the approach of one of his subordinates. But Rilan had learned how to pad silently through the thick grass of the courtyard specifically so he could drive the Royal Guard captain mad.

“You know I appreciate a moment of peace and quiet every now and then,” Domerin replied tartly. He even managed to feign being angry for a moment before a lopsided grin took over Rilan’s face, and the guard captain snorted.

“How’s he doing today?” Rilan quipped as he tossed his ruddy colored mane over one shoulder and tilted his head upward. The jovial Earth Pony was nearly impossible to rattle – even when Domerin’s anger was real – and his good mood was infectious this afternoon.

Domerin could no longer resist the urge to chuckle. “As well as he ever does, I imagine. Not much can affect a pony that’s been dead for several thousand years.”

“Well, I hope you’re doing just as well,” Rilan quipped as he tilted his head to offer the Royal Guard captain a side-eyed glance. “Because Princess Draftmore is asking for you.”

Domerin sighed. He shouldn’t have; Princess Rose Draftmore was a kind soul who wanted only the best for her people. But lately he felt like she had been leaning on him for just about everything. And while he was happy to serve his duty, he would appreciate a day or two that didn’t involve galloping into the countryside to fetch whatever odd thing she needed next.

“She’ll want me in her study, I assume?”

“She did say at your leisure,” Rilan pointed out, perhaps trying to reassure his captain that the task wasn’t urgent.

“I may as well tend it now,” Domerin retorted. “If I start now, I can probably be home by nightfall.” He barely resisted the urge to snort again and couldn’t resist the urge to snap his midnight-colored tail slightly as he spun and trotted toward the edge of the courtyard from which Rilan had no doubt come.

Silvergarden’s palace – affectionately named “Silverwing” after its wing-shaped design –  consisted mostly of large corridors with high, vaulted ceilings. The stone from which they were made was primarily white, and the floors were made of light and highly polished marble. Columns adorned the outermost sections, allowing the first corridor Domerin slipped into to contain wide, open arches that allowed the sun to swim inside and set the palace interior gleaming. It bore a gold sheen right now, bathing the entire structure in a yellow wash. But as the sun descended the sky, the tinge would gradually turn silver, allowing the palace to glimmer according to its namesake.

Since he knew this place like the backs of his hooves, Domerin cut across the palace’s administrative wing in order to reach the princess’s personal quarters at speed. He took the stairs three at a time and dug his hooves into the polished surface of the floor just outside the princess’s study in order to slow.

Three deep breaths was all it took to calm his rapid heartbeat and prepare him for entry into the princess’s presence. Then he lifted his front right hoof and tapped softly at the door.

“Enter,” Princess Draftmore’s voice drifted through the door with a welcoming warmth that always made Domerin smile.

He mastered his expression and used a small burst of telepathy to turn the knob. He made certain to check the hallway before he abandoned it, noting the positions of the guards posted to protect their precious ruler. Then he slipped through the door and used a back hoof to close it.

“Your Highness,” he said as he respectfully bent one front leg and tipped forward while extending his right front hoof in front of him. It was a more formal bow than the ruler of Aruvalia usually required, but it was Domerin’s preference for when he was on duty. “You summoned me?”

Princess Rose Draftmore answered his greeting with a light chuckle – the kind that might convince someone she was still a silly little school filly, if not for the dignity and poise with which she held herself.

As Domerin rose from his bow, he took note of her royal highness. Her fur was a deep, rich, royal blue color punctuated by red hooves. Like Domerin, the hair of her mane and tail was midnight black, though unlike Domerin she wore it unbound so the full length could flow in her wake like a delicate silken cloak. Her blue-feathered wings fluttered for a moment, momentarily obscuring her grin. Then she folded them gracefully back at her sides and dipped her head. The ruby of her crown glinted briefly in the sunlight before she turned and removed her head from its radiance.

“As I have told you many times in the past, Captain Lorehooves, there is no need to be so formal in my presence. You have served my family for over a century. With a record like yours, I would have to be a fool not to consider you a friend.”

Domerin coughed lightly and diverted his eyes toward the window through which the stray sunbeam streamed. He had made it clear on numerous occasions that he was uncomfortable sharing casual familiarity with his employer, though he was also hard-pressed to argue with the distinguished ruler of his beloved kingdom.

“It simply feels right to provide you with the proper respect, Your Highness,” he replied, settling on a middle ground of polite acceptance that still upheld his duty to her position. “And I am certain you did not call me here to discuss the status of our relationship?” He arched a midnight eyebrow and tilted his head to indicate he would prefer to skip the small talk and get straight to the point of this meeting.

He was, after all, a pony of action.

Again, a lilting chuckle flowed from the princess’s throat, but this time she made no attempt to conceal the smile that accompanied it. “Always the diligent pony is my guard captain,” she mused and cast him a fond look.

Then she grew serious. The smile vanished from her face and her glimmering blue eyes grew dark. She gracefully folded her rear legs and sat on a silken cushion positioned near the center of a beautiful, silken red rug. She gave Domerin a long, hard look for a moment, as if she was taking his measure, and the gesture made the fur on the back of his neck stand on end.

It took every ounce of effort Domerin possessed not to stamp his hooves as a nervous sensation flitted through his stomach. He had been fighting this odd tingle all day, trying to convince himself it was just nervous jitters – but now he was sure.

There was something in the air, something odd.

And that meant, something was about to happen. Something he wasn’t going to like.

In the early days of his career, Domerin might have dismissed these feelings as foolish. But in the century he had served the royal family, he had learned to follow his instincts and trust they would never lead him astray.

On days like today, that tendency troubled him.

“I hope you know that I am grateful for your work,” the princess said, her tone somber. “I have great appreciation for your endless diligence and the results it generates. I would never ask you to change your methods. But I do have a great favor to ask of you.”

Domerin’s stomach twisted. Here it was; the task she no doubt wanted him to perform before the ending of the day. Lately, she had been asking him to ride into the middle of nowhere to find a flower or a rock. Twice she had asked him to venture into the heart of a forest after nightfall to find some obscure plant that only flowered beneath the light of the moon.

Though in fairness, it was because he picked the wrong one the first time.

What would she ask for today? A vial of water from some obscure spring? The core of some fruit that was about to go out of season?

Domerin knew that his princess was a skilled sorceress, so he never questioned her needs or methods. But he did wonder about all the urgency lately. What was she trying to build, and why hadn’t she shared the details with him?

The look on her face made him swallow hard because he got the impression he was about to find out.

“Anything, Your Highness,” he said softly. “You merely need ask and it shall be done.”

A faint smile flitted again across Princess Draftmore’s face, and she nodded. There was something like relief in her posture as if, until this moment, she feared she might not receive that answer.

“It is a simple thing, really,” she declared. “Or at least, it seems simple now. It might not be when the time comes for the task to be completed.”

The long, blue horn that protruded from the center of the princess’s forehead began to glow and sparkle with gentle magical light. Behind her, near the center of the empty hearth that adorned the far side of her study, a stone panel slid aside to reveal a velvet-lined case.

An hourglass-stone lay in the center of that padded space. The princess’s magic wrapped around it and gently lifted it until it hovered in the space between her and her Royal Guard captain.

When the stone came closer, Domerin could see that it was a hollow vessel. Some form of potion or concoction swirled within, though Domerin could see no seams or cap that might part the vessel and allow its contents to flow free.

“Take careful note of this and its location,” Princess Draftmore declared as she returned the stone to its former resting place and sealed the stone compartment. “It will open at your touch,” she added, motioning toward the loose stone with a single hoof. “And only yours, if I have done my work properly.”

She lowered her hoof and stared him dead in the eyes. “If anything should happen, Domerin, if anything should start to go wrong, promise me you won’t leave the palace without retrieving that relic. It is critical that I have it with me if I ever need to flee. Do you understand?”

That sinking sensation prickled through Domerin’s stomach again. It wasn’t such an odd request, really. They had several protocols in place to be followed in the event Silvergarden and Silverwing were ever invaded.

But he never expected to actually need them. And the way the princess spoke right now, he got the impression the moment he would need to retrieve this odd stone wasn’t far in the future.

“Do you understand?” the princess asked again, her voice a little harsher this time.

The question startled Domerin back to the moment. He stamped his front hooves gently and straightened to attention. “Yes, Your Highness, I do. If there is trouble, get the relic and bring it to you after you’re safe.”

Rose nodded and, again, it seemed to Domerin as if relief softened her muscles and relieved her body of tension. Whatever she was worried about, he had evidently addressed it for now.

Though that in no way settled the odd sensation tearing through his stomach.

“Have you spoken to Crescent yet today?” the princess asked, evidently finished with the serious matters for today.

Domerin relaxed. It seemed he would not have to gallop into the distance and hope he returned in time tonight – a distinct relief, though he remained on edge.

“Not since we parted ways for work this morning,” Domerin admitted.

“You should end your duty shift early,” the princess declared, and a small grin took up residence on her lips. “Given all the errands you have run for me lately, you deserve a small break.”

Domerin was about to protest – he never shirked his duties, and he wasn’t about to start now. But the princess didn’t give him a chance. “He’s gone down to the juice bar.” Rose’s grin became a smirk. “And I do believe he hoped you would meet him.”

Domerin arched an eyebrow, severely tempted to ask if his partner’s reason for that assumption was because the idea had been planted in his head by their fair princess. But he didn’t bother. He knew when he was fighting a losing battle.

“Very well,” he said at last on the tail end of a small sigh. “But I shall endeavor not to make this a habit.” He stomped his front hoof once more, ignoring the way it made the princess chuckle, then he spun and saw himself out.

*   *   *

A gentle breeze raked the grass surrounding Crescent’s perch before it swooped upward to rake its ghostly fingers through his golden hair. He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned into the sensation, inhaling deeply the fresh scent of flowers in full bloom.

Spring was his favorite time of year, and not just because of the bright sunlight and mild temperatures. It was also the time of rebirth and new growth, when the kingdom came alive with all the color and vitality that had lain dormant for the last several months. Ponies, too, awakened anew every spring with grand plans for the future and new outlooks on life.

Besides, it was the only season during which he could slip free of the palace in the early evenings without anyone taking notice of his absence. Several big projects were winding down and wrapping up, which meant the vicious arguments passed between the members of the princess’s court would also vanish for a few weeks before new rumors had a chance to be generated like the distant babbling of a baby brook.

By the beginning of summer, new projects would be in full spring and the noble members of Rose Draftmore’s court would have backed their new pet issues, causing daily feuds to rise anew. But for the moment, most of the noble egos were soothed and most of the attention of Crescent’s diplomatic peers was focused elsewhere, allowing him to steal a few precious afternoons for himself.

He opened his eyes and grinned as he noticed the breeze gently disturbed the umbrellas perched around the drink stand he had come to patron. Its owner, TropicalBreeze, darted back and forth behind the counter, quietly fretting as she attempted to right all of the umbrellas into their proper positions.

They were sturdy constructions, unlikely to fall under such a gentle onslaught, but Crescent could appreciate the bartender’s worry. He shuffled forward and braced a hoof against one of the tilting umbrellas so TropicalBreeze could correct its position with more ease.

She grinned when she was finished, blinking emerald green eyes that glimmered with gratitude. Then she motioned with one bat-like wing toward the bar where her various drink ingredients perched. “What can I do ya for today, Crescent?” she asked cheerfully. “It’s on me for the help.”

“Think nothing of it,” Crescent insisted and waved the offer away with an absent hoof swoop. “Though I would like one of my usual, if you don’t mind.”

He didn’t frequent enough places in the city that he could say such a thing very often, but TropicalBreeze’s juice bar had been a favorite of his even before he started working at the palace, and he was decently good friends with its owner and operator.

In fact, the blue-furred pony grinned as she tossed her orange-purple hair over her shoulder and began gathering the usual ingredients into her blender. She worked at the speed of her namesake, creating a miniature whirlwind as she chopped fruit and poured colored liquids from chilled bottles.

In a matter of what felt like mere seconds, she pushed a fanciful, coconut-shaped glass across the counter so that it came to rest in front of Crescent. The liquid within, despite being mixed in a blender, formed itself into a series of rainbow-tiered bars. It tasted of the essence of summer when Crescent sipped from the straw and, best of all, it was adorned with a tiny umbrella that matched the larger ones overhanging the stand.

“Thanks Tropic,” Crescent murmured as he settled on one of the bar’s stools. In an hour or two, this place would be packed to the brim with every stool full and all of the nearby picnic tables packed with ponies eager for similar concoctions. It was Crescent’s greatest joy that he could get here before the rush and indulge.

“How’s business?” he asked as he sipped idly from his drink. He saw no reason to be in a rush, not with everything at the palace apparently settled when he departed. He should have until the morning before he actually had to worry about anything again.

“It’s been really great,” TropicalBreeze admitted with another wide grin. “We had that one rocky summer, you know, when the fruit was too mushy to do much with. But I think we’ve almost fully recovered.”

“I remember,” Crescent murmured and winced. “That was a rough year for everyone.” Several trade treaties had been up for renegotiation, and some bad faith trades of subpar goods left everyone in a sour mood. Crescent was rather pleased with results of his work, however, since he was the one who managed to convince everyone to work together to correct the issue with the failing crops.

He and TropicalBreeze exchanged a few more anecdotes before more customers slowly began to drift toward the counter, demanding the bartender’s attention. Crescent scooped the remains of his drink off the countertop and shuffled to one of the smaller shaded picnic tables nearby.

No sooner had he settled than did he hear the somewhat frantic pounding of hooves on the dirt as a pony rushed down the hill and skidded to a halt next to his table. The brown and midnight blur quickly resolved into Captain Domerin Lorehooves, still dressed in his Royal Guard uniform and bearing the twin swords he used to defend his charge. He panted for several seconds after he came to rest before he caught his breath, then he tossed his tightly braided midnight mane over his shoulder as he strode forward to join Crescent beneath the umbrella.

“The princess told me you would be here,” he murmured somewhat sheepishly.

Crescent chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d actually meet me, though I’m glad you did. I know how you are, Domerin. Always working.”

Domerin tucked his head close to his shoulder for a moment to hide his embarrassment, then he flashed his partner a grin and settled at the table across from him. “The princess has been busy of late, I know. But she must have finished her project. No extra tasks for today, it seems.”

Crescent’s grin broadened and he waggled his eyebrows. “I’m glad to hear it. I can think of plenty of ways to put this time to good use.”

He had been dating Domerin Lorehooves for most of five years now, and he had long since grown used to the warrior’s hectic schedule and tendency to disappear on short notice. Emergencies didn’t happen often in a kingdom like Aruvalia. But when they did crop up, Domerin was always the first on scene to assist.

There had been a time when Crescent worried he wouldn’t be able to be with someone who seemed so unreliable. But when he started working for the princess he realized that Domerin was reliable – almost to a fault. It was merely that he put his duty before all else.

Understanding that had cemented their relationship, and the two of them had become almost inseparable whenever Domerin wasn’t working.

Before the captain of the Royal Guard had a chance to respond, TropicalBreeze trotted up to take his drink order. She lingered only long enough to ask after her friend before darting to the next table to jot down another order.

She was a speed-demon, for sure. Crescent always wondered how she managed so many orders with such precision. But a cold and fanciful smoothie appeared before Domerin before he had too much chance to wonder and Crescent accepted that, like many other things in his life, this was just one of the joys of living in Silvergarden.

Domerin sipped appreciatively from his drink, and the two of them sat in silence for a long moment, merely enjoying each other’s company.

Crescent knew Domerin well, however, so he spotted the oddly distant look in the warrior’s eyes while he apparently indulged in the early evening treat.

He had noticed many such looks on the Royal Guard captain’s face of late. And though he tried to dismiss them as merely the result of fatigue or a normal level of paranoid preparedness – he knew better.

Something was bothering his partner. Something bigger than usual, and Crescent couldn’t guess what.

But he also knew better than to ask. Domerin came to these things in his own time, and there was no point in rushing him. If Crescent tried to pry before he was ready, Domerin would simply put him off.

So the Earth Pony grinned and said, “You were in the middle of your daily statue sojourn when I left.” His tone was slightly teasing, but it clearly didn’t land.

Domerin shot him a mildly annoyed glare. “There’s nothing wrong with paying respect to a hero who saved our kingdom and preserved it for all of the people who live in it today.”

Crescent blinked, shocked by the fervor of his partner’s voice. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” he insisted, infusing his words with a soothing undertone. “I’m sorry… Did something happen? You seemed so relaxed when you arrived…”

But it was odd for Domerin to leave the palace before the end of his duty shift, even at the urging of the princess. Had they had some kind of falling out?

Crescent’s brow furrowed with concern, but the sentiment was short-lived. Domerin shook his head, perhaps to clear it, and offered his partner a tired smile.

“It’s not that. It’s just… I don’t know. I’ve felt odd today, plagued by some weird feeling I just can’t shake.”

Crescent frowned. He and Domerin had discussed extensively the odd feelings that sometimes crept into the back of the royal Guard Captain’s mind, and the diplomat was well aware of why the warrior trusted them. He should frankly trust it now if he was experiencing another, though it was unsettling.

An odd feeling in the pit of Domerin’s stomach usually meant trouble on the horizon.

“Have you spoken to Greg?” he asked gently. “If anypony spotted anything odd today, he would know about it.”

“I haven’t,” Domerin admitted, and welcome relief suffused his features. “I’ll check with him before we head back for the night,” he added. “That’s a great idea.”

Crescent dipped his head in a nod of confirmation before he went back to his drink. Domerin’s was still close to the top rim, but Crescent’s was nearly finished. Still, he was starting to think he might need another.

If Domerin didn’t feel an urgent need to rise and run across the city to speak with Silvergarden’s constable, that was a good sign that his gut-feeling probably wasn’t about to happen.

But if something was building, getting ready to explode – Crescent didn’t like that either.

Like Domerin, he had grown accustomed to the comfort of living in a place of harmony and stability. They all heard stories from across the sea of the struggles faced by Equestria before the discovery of their new princess. But they also all hoped they had put such struggles in their past.

There was excitement and then there was terror. Domerin’s gut feelings usually heralded the latter. And while Crescent was all for a little excitement, he’d prefer nothing disturb their tranquil little life. They’d worked hard to build it, after all.

He put it out of his head. Domerin had experienced many an ill-omen in his career and, every time, he managed to solve whatever problem arose in short enough order to save them all a massive amount of headaches. Crescent had nothing but faith in his partner’s ability to do so again.

So he flagged down TropicalBreeze, ordered another drink and watched with joyful fascination as she created another small whirlwind of productivity.

The night was young. And now that Domerin had expressed his anxieties, he seemed happy to relax. So Crescent took full advantage of the opportunity afforded to him by the princess – his co-conspirator.

He never knew when he would have this kind of time with Domerin again, after all.