[i] Princess Evergreen the Just and Perfect surveyed her domain, and found it to be just about perfect. Her palace of fine oak timber sat nestled on a green hilltop. Before it, in all its splendor, the Royal Pine stood amidst verdant gardens ringing ponds with bridges, and round rows of roses, and –[/i] [hr] – ash. [hr] [i] In the center of the rolling fields stood the town to which the princess would, on occasion, journey and mingle with the common-folk. They had skilled cooks there, and storytellers, and she'd spent many a fine evening curled up by the fire in the large hall, which –[/i] [hr] – lay in ruins. [hr] [i]Hoofsteps crunched on marble gravel, as her self-appointed Royal Adviser approached. Although the princess found him a touch overbearing at times, he was a tried and trusted companion on her many adventures. She didn't want him here today. "Go away," she said. "Leave me alone." He ignored her, as he often did, – [/i] [hr] – clearing off a space on the ash-dusted ground next to her, where he sat in silence. She waited. “You know, the first ponies that came here,” he said slowly, tasting the words as he said them, “thought this place was a paradise. Everything was so lush, and green. The waters were clear. Food was plentiful. Thought they had it all. And then one day, this big fire sweeps through the valley. Burns the whole darn thing down to the ground. Flowers. Trees. Buildings. Their homes, everything they knew, all gone.” She saw him look up at her out of the corner of her eye, fishing for a response. She kept her sullen gaze fixed on the burnt-out shell of the tree in front of her. He turned back to it. “The first ponies,” he continued, “nearly left. Thought they’d lost this place forever. Only that wasn’t how the land works, you see. That tree you’re staring at? Look closer.” She followed his gaze to to the base of the trunk, where wildflowers had started to bloom red-and-blue against the grey soil. “Those ponies soon realized that their valley was a paradise [i]because[/i] of the fires that came through every couple of years. Without them, things would never get a chance to grow. To renew. Without the fires, everything just grew, and died. With them, things got a chance to live again." She closed her eyes. [hr] [i]Princess Evergreen, alone, sniffled. “Not everything,” she said to the empty room. "Houses don’t grow back." Her adviser, beside her, wrapped a wing around her – [/i] [hr] – and pulled her into a gentle embrace, her head against his neck. “No they don’t, sweetheart," he said, voice low and warm. "No they don’t. But we're not going anywhere, and houses don't matter so much as people do." She didn't respond. “Either that, or I’m getting a little sentimental in my old age,” he said with a grin, and for a moment, she grinned too. But her gaze caught on the tree again, where her little house used to be, and to beyond, where the empty shell of their home stood. His gaze followed hers, and he smiled that warm smile of his, ruffling her mane. “Take your time, sweetheart. It's alright. We'll be waiting by the cart when you're ready." She stared at the tree. Closed her eyes. Opened them. Closed them. In the background, she felt him release her, and heard broken branches break under hoof as he walked back to the – [hr] [i] – carriage that brought him here. Princess Evergreen the Just and Righteous surveyed her kingdom, and knew that it could not last forever. She would have to let it go, eventually. There would be new lands to rule over. But it was her choice. And for now, she'd stay, and gaze upon her gardens, and her towns. Just long enough to hold them in her mind, and save them, before she had to rebuild anew. Just a little longer. [/i]