Reddux the Tyrant

by PaulAsaran

Rating: teen
Tags: Princess Celestia, Fancypants, Sex, Fleur de Lis, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character, Adventure
Length: 123566

Without warning, the dragons have attacked Equestria. Now three young ponies struggle to find their place in the looming conflict. Can Celestia make peace before her lands are annihilated, or will the feared Reddux crush all who oppose him?

After centuries of peace, the unthinkable has happened: the dragons have invaded Equestria. Celestia knows that her country could never survive a war against these terrible beasts, and so journeys south in hopes of bringing a quick peace. She is not the only one seeking answers: the young assassin Fine Crime has been dispatched by the Archons to determine exactly what has stirred the dragons into action, Fancy Pants has found himself on the front lines with no idea if he'll make any difference, and Fleur Purpurnyj has more enemies than dragons to worry about.

Nothing could prepare any of them for the sheer brutality of the Burning Lands' most fearsome inhabitant: the dreaded Reddux the Tyrant.

A prequel to No Heroes set roughly 7 years before the beginning of the show. Sex tag is for thematic elements only.

Pre-read by Majora. Edited by Danger Beans.

Cover art commissioned from viwrastupr.

Now with a review by Cerulean Voice!

The No Heroes Series
Chronological from Top to Bottom:
Shadow Pony
Reddux the Tyrant
No Heroes Part I - The Roster
No Heroes Part II - The Journey Home
Lightning's Bolt
No Heroes Part III - For Dreams
No Heroes Part IV - The Crystal Empress
No Heroes: Beyond the Everfree
No Heroes: Life of Pie
No Heroes: Hot Chocolate at the Isekai
To My Uncle

The Fleur-Verse
Chronologically from Top to Bottom:
Shadow Pony
Reddux the Tyrant
No Heroes Part I - The Roster
No Heroes Part II - The Journey Home
Lightning's Bolt
The Weed
The Challenge of Fleur
Ordinary World
A Challenge for Fleur
Sweet to Eat: Tales of Nightmare Night

Published 2014-08-23 21:00:03 UTC
Last updated 2015-04-12 21:01:32 UTC

The Slaughter of Sueño

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter I
The Slaughter of Sueño

The great balcony of the fort Mirar el Cielo extended over the reefs of the Bay of Trotaloosa like a dinner plate balanced in a pony’s mouth. Waves crashed against the rocks below in an eternal battle to wither away the island of Sueño, with no regard to the magical wards making their task impossible. High above, the Equestrian flag waved atop the tallest battlement as sleepy soldiers awaited the coming change in shift.

Fancy Pants had his forelegs resting atop the balcony wall, his eyes set to the endless ocean in the east. He remained silent, awaiting that perfect moment he always roused early for. The sounds of gulls made his ears perk, but he didn’t cast his eyes to the great brown cliffs on either side of the castle. He barely noted the sails of ships docked in the harbor below or the ponies scurrying like ants on the docks trying to keep to their schedules.

No, he kept his eyes on the distant horizon. As he did every morning.

It came: the first rays of the sun pierced the clouds and basked the world in an orange glow. The ocean shimmered as if countless jewels floated upon its surface. Fancy loved the night more than he ever did the day, but the marvelous sight of a dawn over the ocean never failed to take his breath away. It was nothing less than a glorious tribute to the greatness that was Celestia.

“I think somepony’s in love.”

Fancy’s shoulders sagged and his ears drooped; so much for peace and tranquility.

A big, burly Earth pony stepped up beside him and elbowed his ribs. “Come on, Shmancy, we’re all in on it. Just admit you’re infatuated with the princess and maybe we’ll leave you be.”

Fancy glowered at the new arrival. “If I was so interested in Celestia, why would I have asked for a post outside of Canterlot?”

A unicorn mare appeared on the other side of him and said, “Well duh, so nopony can guess you’re infatuated with the princess.”

Fancy groaned. “Not you too, Sparks.”

Sparks grinned and leaned against the wall. “What? A girl’s gotta know when a guy’s got the hots.”

Fancy shot her a bemused frown. “‘The hots?’”

The stallion set a hoof to Fancy’s forehead and held it there for a couple seconds. “Yep, and you’re about as hot as a pony can be. Hope it’s contagious.”

“Get off, Lance.” The hoof was knocked away. Fancy turned back to watch the sun continue its steady climb. “I just like to watch the sun rise. Do you have to apply vulgar purposes to everything?”

Lance stuck out his muscular chest and grinned. “Hey, Mama didn’t call me Long Lance for nothin’! Flaunt what ya got, Shmancy.”

Fancy Pants rolled his eyes but couldn’t resist a small smile. “You’re one of a kind, you know that?”

Sparks huffed a laugh. “Says the idiot who left a life of luxury to sweat in some barracks.” She whacked Fancy’s shoulder. “We were just gonna grab something to eat now that our shift’s over. You wanna come with before you start yours?”

Fancy sighed and made an exaggerated gesture towards the sun. “Mood’s ruined, so yeah, might as well.”

The fort was a substantial structure considering the small size of the island, all brown stone and thick walls. Everypony appeared laid back: officers and soldiers played cards together, fillies and foals ran about the walls playing their silly games, a troubadour sat on a box next to the fort gates, playing a guitar and singing to a curious crowd. As Fancy and his companions exited the gates they found themselves on a short stone road to a town nestled comfortably in the brown cliffs, the residents just beginning to rise for their daily routines.

When Fancy had requested a post outside of Canterlot, Mirar el Cielo hadn’t even been close to what he’d intended. Part of him resented the posting… but if he was going to be sheltered, there were certainly worse locations they could have sent him. Sueño had to be one of the quietest places in the world for a fortified position. The view of the ocean from the fort was spectacular and – as he eyed the tall houses and bright red cliffs that glowed in the morning light – he had to acknowledge that the town itself was no slouch for beauty.

Fancy was growing to like it here. Like everypony else in his regiment, complacency was set in a permanent lull over his mind. What was there for a young officer of the Equestrian Army to do aside from break up a fight or two?

Which was actually a problem. Fancy didn’t come here for complacency. If he wanted that, he would have stayed at home. Still, he couldn’t request a change in post for another seven months; might as well enjoy himself while he could.

If only that wasn’t the very attitude he’d been trying to escape from…

Sparks broke the quiet. “So where are we eating today?”

Lance gestured to a building set in one of the cliffs, easily viewable over the other structures. “I say we visit Casa Sol.”

Fancy and Sparks shared smirks. “You always wanna eat there,” Sparks said.

“What? It’s good.”

It was Fancy’s turn to elbow Lance. “You just want to flirt with that waitress, the red one with the ponytail.”

Lance turned his muzzle up in a haughty display. “You can tease all you want, but she can’t ignore my charm forever.”

Sparks snorted. “Charm. Right. That’s what you’ve got, let me tell you. Spades, I say.”

Lance chuckled and slapped Fancy on the back. “I’ve got more of a chance than our resident princess-chaser here.”

Fancy decided to show his companions how ‘haughty’ was really done: he raised his muzzle and spoke in a perfect Canterlot tone, making sure to add an extra touch of snob for the taste. “You backwater yokels are all alike. Forgive me if I seek higher pleasures than that which you desire, Long.”

“Ooh, pulling out the pedigree.” Sparks bumped Fancy with her flank and winked at Lance. “Better watch out, if he whips out his ‘elite’ in front of your little red bird, she might just start flocking his way.”

“And I might put my hoof up his hindquarters,” Lance grumbled.

It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant. Fancy lingered behind at the front door to watch how the dawn’s light played on the cliffs and buildings. He really had to be cautious; at this rate he’d turn into an artist like his mother.

His pleasure was interrupted by shouting. He noted two ponies heading out the door and politely stepped aside. Though he avoided looking at them, it was impossible not to hear the conversation.

“If I catch you stealing from storage one more time I’ll have you thrown in the fort dungeon!”

“If you would give me a job I wouldn’t have to steal!”

“I told you, you’re too young. I’m not going to have child services shutting down my establishment and charging me with child labor.”

“I’m fourteen, not four! Please, I’m just hungry.”

“No. You wanna eat? Go to an orphanage where you belong.”

Fancy couldn’t resist glancing out the corner of his eye. A unicorn filly, her light pink mane and tail in tangles, was flung into the street by the restaurant owner. She sat up and glared, her pink cheeks soaked with tears. There was a fire in her eyes, the kind one doesn’t see among the posh elites of Canterlot. She did indeed look too young to have a full-time job, but only barely.

“Fancy, come on.” Lance appeared to pull him away from the sight. “We ain’t waiting on you to order.”

Fancy let himself be herded inside, his ears twitching to the sound of the filly shouting at the owner some more. His stomach twisted a little as he recalled her fiery eyes. Why was he walking away from this? Because there was nothing he could do?

They settled down at a table before a wide window facing the south. Lance wasted no time hitting on their waitress, who was indeed the red pegasus he liked. She took his double entendres with a smile even the inexperienced Fancy could tell was just for Lance’s benefit.

“That mare’s gonna get your flank thrown in the dungeons for sexual harassment.” Sparks leaned back in her seat and locked Lance with an annoyed frown.

Lance returned the look with a charming smile. “Come on, Sparks, we all know you’re just mad ‘cause you can’t admit to being crazy about me.”

Sparks rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m crazy about you, all right. Crazy enough that I’m ready to buck you off one of these cliffs.”

Fancy ignored their banter and kept his eyes locked on the ocean beyond the window. Why couldn’t he get that filly out of his head? Maybe he would order an extra meal and bring it to her. It wasn’t much… but it was something. It didn’t make him feel any better, though.

He blinked; something was out there. He focused his attention on the dot in the sky. No, three dots. Curious, what might that be?

His attention was jolted by a bump from Sparks. “Hey, Fancy, wake up! Ponies are gonna start thinking you’re high on extract if you keep staring off into space.”

He turned and saw that the waitress was waiting for his order. He thought about the filly outside and ordered two seapetal stews, one to go. As soon as she was gone, he interrupted Lance’s joke. “Do you guys see what I see?”

Lance and Sparks shared raised eyebrows and peered out the window. Fancy turned and was surprised to find that the dots were much closer. This time their shapes were distinct, and there was absolutely no question as to what they were.

“Well, waddaya know?” Lance smiled at the beasts as they approached. “It’s been a long time since any dragons flew by.”

“Only the second time I’ve seen any,” Sparks admitted. “I was starting to think this fort was pointless.”

Fancy had never seen a dragon before. He sidled a little closer to the window and studied them as they came ever closer. He was able to make out their colors now: red, green and black. The red one was in the lead and looked much bigger than his companions.

“Shouldn’t we warn somepony?” he asked.

“About what?” Lance leaned back in his seat and turned his eyes away. “They’re just flying by. Happens every now and then. Besides, the ponies on watch are no doubt aware.”

Sparks was more interested, getting off her seat so that she could stand by the window. “Amazing creatures, aren’t they? I’d love to talk to one.”

“I think they’d rather eat you,” Lance replied with a chuckle.

Fancy looked to Lance, who seemed completely disinterested. He looked to Sparks, who was absolutely fascinated. Neither of them seemed worried at all. Which was curious, because Fancy definitely felt a lot of anxiety knowing three dragons were on their way.

He shifted from hoof to hoof and turned back to watch. “So we’re not at all worried about this?”

Lance laughed. “Look at the new guy, getting cold hooves! Don’t worry, Shmancy, we’re like ants to them. What do they care about one measly little fort on a measly little island that doesn’t even have any gems?”

Sparks shot Lance a sour frown before smiling Fancy’s way. “He’s an inconsiderate jerk, but he’s right. There hasn’t been a dragon attack in centuries.”

Fancy swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He turned back to see that the dragons were flying directly for the island. He could make out some features by now, and his curiosity crept over his worry. He could just make out their talons, their fangs, the leathery appearance of their wings. The morning sunlight glistened on their scales in what he had to admit was a dazzling display.

He didn’t know whether to be amazed or terrified. He felt like such a clueless city pony. Even so, his friends were almost certainly right; why would the dragons attack? Fancy knew his posting to this island was an underhooved move on his father’s part to keep him out of danger – and responsibility – so why would he be here if there was a risk of dragons just attacking out of the blue?

He glanced at Sparks. “Where do you think they’re going?”

She replied in a voice of pure wonder. “Who knows?”

“Who cares?” Lance glowered at them. “You guys are boring, y’know that?”

Fancy ignored him, watching as the dragons descended until they were flying just over the water. They kept getting bigger and bigger in his vision. His mind reeled from the sheer size of the leader! He made his companions look like children. Fancy was mesmerized by the sight.

This was something to write home about.

Ponies had gathered around the window to watch the spectacle. There was no small number of amazed comments.

“Three at once! How often does that happen?”

“They never cease to amaze.”

“Look at those wings!”

“They’re flying awfully low.”

“Think they’ll land on the island?”

“Not a chance.”

“The red one, he’s huge.”

Sparks called back over the crowd. “Hey, Lance, you gotta see this guy! You ever seen a dragon that big?”

Lance had been making a determined effort not to pay attention, but at last he climbed out of his chair and pushed his way to the window. “Just a few dragons, geez. It’s not like…”

His words died as he finally spotted the three beasts, which were mere seconds away from passing over. His jaw dropped, his face went pale. “Oh sweet merciful Celestia.

“That’s an attack formation.”

Fancy and Sparks shot him wide eyed looks in tandem. “What?”

An instant later the dragons had passed.

Another second… and the world shook.

Fancy fell to his knees as dust and rocks fell from the ceiling. He could hear screams of surprise, of alarm… of fear. The ponies around him began to run, though where they were going he couldn’t imagine. All he knew was the there was a dragon on top of the building… and that scared him half to death.

“No, stop!” Lance was trying to catch as many ponies as he could. “Don’t go, he’s gonna—”

Fancy turned just in time to see the crowded entrance burst into flames.

The screams were excruciating.

Sparks lifted Fancy off the floor, but she looked as terrified as he felt. “Lance… w-what do we do?”

The more experienced soldier swore as the dragon’s breath ended. There was the distinct sound of flapping wings. What ponies survived the blast were fleeing wildly, their bodies coated in flames.

Lance turned to his friends and nodded to the still burning doorway. “We get our tails to the fort and arm, that’s what!”

Fancy and Sparks followed as he charged the door. He leapt through the flames as if they weren’t even there, but Fancy had to close his eyes to will himself through the blaze. He landed outside safely and slammed right into Lance. Sparks smacked him from behind and the two of them fell, the bigger Lance taking the blow with only a small extra step.

Fancy looked up. He wished he hadn’t, for he was just in time to see the green dragon make a slow pass over the roadway, blasting a long stream of fire. In its wake were ponies engulfed in flames, their screeches filling the morning air.

The red dragon was coming in for another shot.

“In the alley, come on!”

Lance pulled Sparks to her hooves and shoved her into a space between some nearby buildings. Fancy was halfway to his hooves, but his eyes locked onto that terrible scaled visage. He saw something he’d never expected: pleasure.

The beast was enjoying itself.

Fancy was knocked sideways and went sliding into another alleyway, Lance pushing him inside at full gallop just as the flames passed by. Fancy swore he could feel the fur on his coat shrivel from the heat. There was a thunderous crash; rocks and boulders from the walls crashed down around them. Fancy and Lance jumped up to find a massive scaled body standing atop the two buildings above them.

“Yes.” A deep, powerful voice made the world shake. “Flee, hide, scream! Panic as you know that no force in Equestria can save you.”

Fancy looked to the other alleyway. He saw Sparks standing back in the shadows with a half-dozen other ponies. Her eyes went wide as the dragon sucked in a deep, ominous breath.

“Sparks… Sparks!” Fancy started to move, but Lance caught him in his hooves.

The ponies across the street tried to flee. Sparks horrified eyes lowered to meet Fancy’s.

Flames engulfed the alley.

“Sparks!”

Lance’s hold was like iron, but his voice was choked. “Celestia’s Holy Mother be damned…”

The dragon’s fire came to an end, leaving the alleyway a massive blaze. The dragon pounced atop the buildings over it, smashing the stone with its mighty legs before launching into the air with a throaty laugh. Rock, masonry and timber collapsed over the flames, but only served to stoke them.

Fancy finally broke free, running for the alley with tears in his eyes. “Sparks, for the love of Celestia, Sparks!”

He slid to a stop, the heat of the flames holding him back. He could see bodies squirming in the blaze, the screams penetrating his consciousness and digging deep into his brain. His body trembled with a sense of terror he’d never known as he listened and prayed that one of those voices didn’t belong to his friend.

“Help me!”

Fancy was jarred from his horrified stupor by a familiar voice. He looked down to see the pink filly caught beneath a log that had yet to be engulfed in the flames. She scrambled against the stones, tears streaming down her cheeks and a numbing horror in her eyes. She looked up at Fancy, her lips working frantically as she begged almost inaudibly for salvation.

Lance appeared, attempting to drag Fancy away. “Come on, we’ve got to get to the fort!”

The rough treatment jarred Fancy from his terror. He pulled away from Lance and moved for the filly.

“Stop, Fancy! What are you doing?”

“Help me!” Fancy focused his horn on the wood, struggling to lift it against the stone and rock that pinned it down.

“It’s too late!” Lance tried to pull him away again. “One of those dragons could come for another pass at any second! Now is not the time to be a hero!”

Fancy let out a snarl and spun about, his elbow cracking Lance in the cheek and knocking him away. “I will not leave her here!”

He turned back to work on the log once more. His eyes locked with the panicked filly. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out!”

“Damn you, Fancy. If I die here I’ll kick your tail!” Despite his clear frustration, Lance moved to the log and, dropping to his haunches, started to lift.

Fancy strained, forcing as much magic out of his horn as he could. He tried to keep his eyes locked on the filly, to not look as the ponies mere inches behind her twisted and jerked in the flames that seared his coat. Their shrieks pierced his eardrums, but he tried to listen only to the sound of her pleading voice. He had to do this, he had to!

A large shadow passed by just as the log began to rise. An earth-shaking roar made the loose wood in the fire crumble. Lance let out a determined snarl as he climbed to his hooves, bring the log up with him. Fancy dragged the filly out from under the log, letting out a long breath as she clung to him and wept.

“No time for a breather.” Lance grunted as he dropped the log with a resounding crash. “Let’s go!”

Fancy cast one last look at the terrible blaze and the ponies within before he lifted the filly onto his back and turned for the fort. He and Lance ran side by side, but slid to a stop as they turned a corner to find themselves facing the massive, black backside of one of the attackers.

The dragon had his claws in the crumbled wall of a building. Fancy’s entire body shook as one of those muscular arms pulled back, revealing a pair of screaming ponies caught in its talons. The dragon studied the relatively tiny things with one eye.

Its lips turned up in a wicked grin as it reared its arm back and slammed its palm into the nearby cliffside. Fancy’s stomach curled inside itself as the claw was pulled away to reveal two splattered, bloody stains in the rock.

Hideous blue eyes turned on him. Fancy’s blood went cold.

“Go go go!” Lance shoved him into the nearby alley just in time for the dragon’s spiked tail to slam down where they’d once stood. They fled between the buildings as the beast let out a throaty laugh.

The filly was clutching Fancy’s throat and sobbing.

“GoddesswhyisthishappeningIdon’twannadiepleasedon’tletthemeatmedon’tletthemeatmeIdon’twannadieoh mercifulGoddess…”

Fancy cringed and kept pounding the pavement, not daring to mention that he knew exactly how she felt.

They emerged in another street just in time to see the green dragon rearing up over the cliffs with ponies in his fangs and claws. Fancy was unable to resist watching as the creature flew high on powerful wings and let the helpless ponies drop like screaming rocks to the city below. Fancy and Lance fled up the hill as bodies hit the hard stones all around them. The steady thwack, thwack, thwack of each hit filled him with a new disgust.

They arrived back at the main street and turned for the fort. Both ponies paused to gape as the red dragon loomed over the gates like a demon god of Tartarus. Arrows flew from the battlements, beams and magical explosions rocked the early morning air.

The dragon shook off the attacks like a pony shakes off water. Its massive talons gripped the wall and pulled; gargantuan muscles bulged, stone and mortar cracked. The wall came down, crushing any ponies unfortunate enough to be standing within the gates. The dragon sucked in a long gulp of air and engulfed the remnants of the battlements in flame.

Fancy’s watched with wide eyes as the beast flew off to find more victims. His throat was dry, his heart was hammering so hard he could feel the pulse in his ears. He slowly looked about as if in a trance.

The island of Sueño was engulfed in fire and death. Everywhere Fancy looked, there were bodies. Those buildings not cracked and crumbling were ablaze. Any pony who wasn’t dead was wounded or trapped within the buildings. Blackened or smashed corpses covered the stone street and the acrid scent of burnt flesh filled his nostrils.

Three dragons. Just three dragons had done this. How long since the attack had started? Ten minutes?

The filly was still weeping. Fancy and Lance shared wide-eyed looks, and Fancy was sure that his companion’s pallor was a good match for his own.

Fancy worked his jaw. Somehow, he was able to produce sounds. “Wha… what do we do now?”

“I… uh…” Lance’s pupils were shifting wildly. “I… we… we have to…”

A thunderous crunching sound had them spinning about. The structure on the corner collapsed, dust and debris flying high to blind them. Fancy used his magic to blow the dust aside, and as he did a vast, scaled green face appeared. It leered at them from around the corner.

“Well, well. Still alive?”

Fancy wasted no time bolting, Lance hot on his tail. The dragon’s steps thundered in his brain.

“Yes, scurry away! Go on, you can make it.”

“This way!” Lance turned down a side street. Fancy had to scramble to make the turn, managing it just in time to avoid the clamp of the dragon’s jaws. The filly was screaming, but still on his back.

Lance made another turn, this time diving into a gated cave. Fancy followed, praying his companion knew what he was doing.

“Tell me you can make a shield,” Lance shouted.

Fancy gaped. “Against dragon’s fire?”

His ears perked and his chest constricted at the sound of something breathing deep. Panic threatened to overwhelm Fancy, but he kept his head well enough to spin about and summon a blue shield to cover the entire tunnel. A second later the flames filled the cave, the intense heat making Fancy sweat and he struggled to hold the spell together. It wasn't like normal fire; there was something far more intense within the flames. He cringed and closed his eyes, pouring all the energy he had left into the defense.

The flames stopped. The dragon let out one of those hideously mirthful laughs.

Fancy dropped to his knees. The filly climbed off and knelt at his side. Her cheeks were soaked with fresh tears but her eyes were set on him.

“Fancy, that was awesome.” Lance lifted him to his hooves as the tunnel rocked all around them. “No time to rest! We gotta get to the harbor.”

“Harbor. R-right…” Fancy let himself be dragged along, shaking his head as he tried to recover from wielding so much magic so quickly. He’d never used his horn like that before…

The filly walked alongside them, her head low and wincing with every resounding crash. “W-what’s causing that?”

Lance’s face was contorted in a scowl. “Maybe they’re trying to bring the whole fort down.”

The tunnel shook, thick stones falling out of the ceiling.

“But why are they attacking?” she asked, her voice shrill.

Lance grimaced and tugged a little harder on Fancy. “Come on, Schmancy! I know you’re a wimpy rich colt, but ya gotta carry your own weight eventually.”

Fancy obliged, forcing his legs to work. He’d regained some of his energy and was finally able to move under his own power. “W… why are we going to the harbor?”

“Somepony has to get out of here alive,” Lance replied, his eyes hard and focused on the tunnel ahead. “Somepony’s got to get to the mainland. They need to be warned. The dragons wouldn’t attack for no reason.”

They were in the artificial portion of the tunnel by now, the walls and ceiling crisscrossed by thick supporting beams. Lanterns swung from wall hooks as the pounding continued to rain dirt and rocks atop their heads. The filly pressed close to Fancy, her eyes roaming the dark as if she expected something to leap for them at any second.

The noise came to a stop. The only sound was the ponies’ hoofsteps as they trotted in the darkness, Lance leading the way. The quiet did nothing to ease Fancy’s nerves. If anything, he was even more terrified than before. He could still hear the screams of those burning ponies, could see that split second where Sparks was staring at him as the flames engulfed her. His breath was coming in shallow gasps and closed his eyes, but that only made the image more vivid.

The filly lowered her head. “Maybe… maybe they’re gone?”

The cave rocked beneath their hooves so much Fancy fell to his knees. There was a resounding crack, and he looked up in time to see one of the supporting beams begin to fall. Lance was right beneath it.

Lance looked up at the beam, his eyes wide. They went to Fancy and the filly, then back to the beam as it came down. He reared back just in time to brace his forehooves against the wood. It held, but Lance’s knees were wobbling as the rock of the cave pressed down.

“Lance!” Fancy stumbled to his hooves and tried to summon his magic. He was rewarding with a burning pain and a weak spark.

“Fancy…” Lance grimaced as he struggled. “G-go… go under me!”

“What?”

“Hurry!” Lance’s hooves slid on the stone floor. “I can’t hold it up forever!”

Fancy cringed and pushed the filly ahead of him. She fell to her belly and crawled beneath Lance, and Fancy followed close behind. As soon as he was across, Fancy turned about and tried to use his magic again. His horn sparked and smoked; he could barely get any energy out of it.

“Lance… come on, drop it.” Fancy gestured to the Earth pony. “You can make it if you run!”

Lance buckled and fell to his knees. “The… the whole cave might collapse. Run, Fancy! Go on, take the girl and get out!”

Fancy’s heart hit his throat. His hooves danced as his mind struggled with indecision. “But… I… I can’t let you—”

“Goddess damn you, Fancy, get out!”

The filly was clinging to Fancy, her eyes wide as she stared at the struggling pony. Fancy fought for some kind of solution, trying again and again to get some kind of spell out, but he was rewarded with nothing but a searing pain in his brain. If only he’d not cast that shield spell…

“Fancy!” Lance ground his teeth and glared. “Remember what I told you. When we meet in the afterlife I’m gonna kick your tail straight to Tartarus. So you better not die, ‘cause I’m gonna make your death miserable!”

Another resounding crash shook the tunnels. More supports began to splinter and bend.

“Go! For bucks sake, go!”

Fancy let out a furious shout and fled, tugging the filly with him. They ran and ran. Rocks trembled and wood shattered all around them. The noise no longer involved the pounding of the dragons; this cacophony was much closer to home. Fancy swore again and again, his hooves pounding the shifting rocks. The filly was just ahead of him, her pink tail brushing his muzzle as they fled.

Sunlight! They slid to a stop on a ledge just a few feet above the water. Fancy pulled the filly aside and they both pressed against the cliff wall as the rocks inside the cave came down, dust and dirt blasting out of the mouth and into the lapping waves.

“Buck.” Fancy covered his face and shook his head. “Buck buck buck buck buck!”

“The harbor…”

He looked up at the filly’s words and felt his heart sink; the entire harbor was ablaze. Every boat, every ship. He could see vessels trying to sail away and being blasted by dragon’s flame. Ponies swimming in the water made easy the targets for the black dragon, who swept over them to swipe its claws and lift up what ponies it could. Fancy looked up to see the red dragon hovering just beyond the massive balcony that he had been standing on not even an hour ago.

Its pounding fists resounded in his ears. Cracks were already forming on the stone supports.

Fancy and the filly were right under them.

“Go!” Fancy pushed the filly and they ran along the rocky ledge. Fancy knew there was a small supply shack nestled within the rocks somewhere ahead. If they could just get there…

He glanced aside just in time to see the black dragon sweep across the waters, blasting his fiery breath on the still-swimming ponies. Steam filled the harbor amidst the agonized screams of those caught in the flames and boiling waters. Fancy turned his eyes forward, wishing he hadn’t looked.

There it was! The shed was small and made entirely of stone, nestled in a space between the rocks. He opened the door and all but threw the filly inside. He turned about to the sound of a resounding crack and watched, mouth gaping and mind numb, as the great balcony fell. Rocks collided with falling soldiers, who dropped into the shallow waters like helpless dolls. The few pegasi who managed to escape only lasted a few seconds before being caught by the claws of the laughing dragons.

Fancy could only stare, unable to think for the horror that filled him. So much death. The shrieks drowned out all thought. His mind didn’t know how to process this.

He was faintly aware of being pulled back by the tail. He backed up absent-mindedly, forced into motion by the sobbing filly. He was in shadows. His eyes locked on the bodies floating in the water.

The door slammed closed.

The filly clutched his cheeks and forced him to stare into her wet eyes.

“What do we do now?” She shook him, her lips trembling and her eyes wide. “Mister… w-what do we do now?”

He stared blankly. His head slowly shook.

“I don’t know.”

He sank to his knees and sobbed.

“I… I don’t know.”

The screams and pleas were underscored by deep laughter.

Author's Note

Ever since Reddux was first mentioned offhand in No Heroes Book I, this story has been on my to-do list. I've mentioned the character over and over again throughout my stories, and he made a memorable appearance in Twilight's Inferno (and a less-than-memorable one in Trixie vs. Equestria), but this story is the one I always wanted to write. At last we shall see who Reddux is in the No Heroes universe.

Let me be perfectly clear: this is a pet project for me. I don't expect it to be as good as my other major works, and I'm okay with that.

This story is a prequel to the main No Heroes story and takes place roughly seven years prior to the first book – which means it also takes place seven years prior to the start of the show. The story is also considered a canon prequel to my Fleur series of stories, although the Fleur series and the No Heroes series are slightly different AUs.

My heartfelt thanks to Vergathos and Danger Beans for prereading.

Blood and Ashes

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter II
Blood and Ashes

“Mister.”

Fancy grumbled, but didn’t bother to open his eyes.

“Mister, wake up.”

His ear twitched against the noise. He turned so his back was to the disturbance.

Something pulled his ear back.

“Wake up!”

Fancy let out a shout and jumped to his hooves. It happened so quickly that he was unable to keep his balance and, after a couple wobbly sidesteps, collapsed back to the floor. “Ponyfeathers! I’m up! What is the matter with… you… ponies?” He looked around, finding himself in a small, dark room filled with tools for boat maintenance. What was he doing in here?

He looked to his side to see a familiar filly, her pink coat so light in color it was almost white. She was pressed back in the farthest corner from him, watching him with worried eyes.

The memories of the previous day hit him like a hammer, effectively knocking the air from his lungs. He took a moment to calm himself, not daring to think on the things he’d seen. His ears aimed to the door, but he heard nothing but the lapping of the waves against the rocks.

The filly took a tentative step forward, her eyes shifting to the door. “I… I think they’re gone.”

Fancy stared at her for a few seconds, then turned to the door. “Are… are you certain?”

She lowered her head and averted her eyes, which was all the answer he needed. Fancy considered the door for several seconds, his mind fighting with itself. If he opened that door… what if the dragons were just waiting out there, looking for some foolhardy survivor to wander out? Stepping through that door might be the last thing he’d ever do.

But then his stomach growled. He frowned and glanced around the supply shed, but there was no point; they’d never find anything to eat here. He glanced back at the filly and saw her quickly pull her hoof away from her stomach and take on a solemn, calm pose.

Damn it all, it was either risk a quick death out there or be guaranteed a slow one in here. This in mind, Fancy forced himself to his hooves and made his crouching way to the door. He waved to the filly to keep back and focused his magic on the door handle. He lingered, clamping his jaw and focusing on his courage. Gradually, he let the door open by the slightest crack and peered outside with a single eye.

Nothing. The world was quiet. He could see the morning sun hanging just over the water. He waited a few seconds, just in case, and at last pulled the door open all the way.

He sank to his knees, a fresh hit of horror clawing at his mind.

“What do you see?” the filly asked from the back of the shed.

Fancy couldn’t speak. He could only stare at the waters a scant few feet away.

It was filled with bodies. Blackened bodies, ripped bodies, bodies with wide eyes that stared at him blindly. They pressed against the edge of the rocky path, clumped together by the waves and a tide that would have just reached its height. Some looked as if they’d been frozen in a position of struggle, their legs bent at odd angles. A few of the black ones had their mouths open in silent, eternal screams, their lips burnt off to leave their teeth showing in demented grins.

“Mister?”

“Don’t look!” Fancy turned and slammed the door. He pressed against it with his forehooves, tears streaming down his cheeks. “D-don’t look. For the love of Celestia… don’t look.”

“Hey! Mister!” She banged on the door. “You can’t just leave me in here!”

He ignored her. He turned about and pressed his back to the door, his eyes going over the sea of death at his hooves. It was too much, far too much for his mind to take in: he curled into a ball and sobbed. The scent of burned flesh nauseated him, the screams still echoed in his ears.

He could just barely hear the filly’s voice over his own weeping. “Mister, please. L-let me out…”

“No!” He pressed his back against the door, breath coming in sharp gasps as he closed his eyes to avoid seeing the horror before him. “This is not something for filly eyes to see!”

“I can handle it.”

He felt the door push against his back, and he held firm. He was not going to subject her to this.

“Mister, I’m going to see it eventually.”

A small gasp escaped his lips. It was true, wasn’t it? Eventually she would come out. He couldn’t guard the door forever. Yet to have her see this…

He started to suck in a deep breath, but in so doing he caught a strong hit of that burnt smell. As soon as it hit his nostrils the nausea came back and an image appeared on the back of his eyelids: Sparks, staring at him in quiet horror just as the flames engulfed her.

Fancy’s stomach rebelled, and he jerked to the side to vomit the empty contents of his stomach. He was still on his knees, body shaking as he fought down the urge to throw up a second time, when he heard the door to the shed open.

Slowly, unable to stand, he turned his lowered head. The filly sat just outside the door, her eyes wide and her face green. She swallowed as her chest heaved from her deep breaths.

Fancy rubbed the bile from his lips and forced his wobbly knees to support his weight. “I… I told you to stay in there…”

She turned away from the sight, closing her eyes and setting the back of a hoof to her lips. “I’m ok-kay,” she whispered, though her shoulders shook. “I… I’m okay…”

Fancy tried to think straight. He brushed the moisture from his cheeks and tried his best to ignore the bodies as he looked out over the water. Most of the docks were little more than skeletal posts and frames blackened by dragon’s fire, but a couple still appeared to be intact. All the ships had sunk in the waters, but a few had hit bottom before they could be completely covered.

He had no appetite, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t at least search for some food… and maybe survivors.

“Go back inside,” he said, breathless as he fought to keep his breathing under control. “I’m going to search where I can.” He turned and tested his legs; they shook, but he could move. He began to walk along the path, his eyes set directly forward so as to not have to look at the nearby horror.

A moment later, the filly was at his side.

“I thought I told you—”

“Do you want to be alone right now?”

He swallowed his argument and refused to look at her. His mind kept going over the same thing: find something to do, be useful, try to keep busy. Don’t think about what happened, just work. He didn’t dare to even glance at the bodies. Fancy knew his mind was at that intensely fragile point between despair and survival, and he was determined to keep it in the latter.

He could only imagine the state of the filly’s mind.

They came to the tunnel. It was filled with collapsed stone, large cracks running up the cliff wall above them. Fancy stared at the former entrance for several long seconds, his thoughts going to Lance.

The filly glanced between him and the rocks. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Yeah…” Fancy felt his stomach clench and promptly turned away. He gave himself a few seconds to recover before making his way to the nearest intact dock. The filly followed behind without a word.

Walking along that wooden path over the water required all Fancy’s willpower. He kept his eyes held high so that he wouldn’t have to look and see the bodies. It worked for a while, and he was fortunate that the tide had pushed the majority to the island; once they got so far, the bodies became much less common. He still hated to look down, but it became inevitable; there were still a few corpses on the dock itself.

“Why would the dragons do this?” the filly asked as she stepped gingerly around broken body.

“I don’t know.” Fancy paused at one particular corpse, its lower half missing and dried blood seeping into the wood. He stared at it for several seconds, unable to take his eyes away. His stomach couldn’t take it; he turned away and threw up over the edge of the docks. A moment later, he heard the filly doing the same.

Fancy sat back and rubbed his lips. He noted the filly sitting opposite him and sighed. “Still glad you came along?”

She glared out over the ocean, but said nothing.

It took some time, but they finally reached the first of the three ships at the dock. Its stern had sunk beneath the waves, causing the stern to rise in the air at a steep angle. Fancy examined the ship closely, and determined that they could get on if they jumped at just the right position, so they did. It proved an easy.

The deck was mostly free of corpses, save for a few that were lying against barrels or the main mast. Fancy helped the filly climb the steep incline to the cabin door.

The filly eyed the door as they pressed against the wall of the cabin. “Do you think there’s any survivors in there?”

“Goddess, I hope so.” Fancy glanced about the area, quietly looking to see if any of the dragons might be nearby and watching, but they seemed to really be in the clear. Using his magic, he carefully pulled the door open… only to have a body collapse to the deck.

Fancy pressed himself to the cabin wall, his breath catching in his throat, but nothing else happened. He looked past the door at the filly, peering around the open door with wide eyes. Fancy slowly made his way to the open doorway and peered in. There were four more bodies, but other than that the cabin was empty.

“Th-this doesn’t make sense.” The filly lowered herself to examine the dead pony. “No dragon could have entered the cabin without destroying it, so what killed these ponies?”

Fancy stepped inside and took a closer look at the nearest dead mare. Her body was perfectly intact; no wounds, no burns, nothing. Her mouth was hanging open, but not to scream. Her eyes were opened, staring blankly at the wall.

No blood. No wounds. No evidence at all.

“Mister?”

“I… I don’t know.” He stepped backwards to the door, a quiet alarm filling him. “I don’t know much about dragons, but I can’t imagine how they would have done this.”

The filly wouldn’t go inside. She peered into the darkness and chewed her lip. “W-what if whatever did this is still in there?”

The possibility was a little too real for Fancy; he backed out of the cabin and closed the door. He turned around and sat against it, trying to make his heartbeat slow down and keep control of his breathing. His companion sat nearby…. but not too close.

Fancy leaned his head back. Though fear and worry were creating a horrid emotional combination in his mind, his thoughts were clear and he was somehow able to keep calm. Perhaps after so long the brain stopped being shocked by such things.

His eyes fell on the fort, which loomed atop the cliff far above his head. It was shattered, little more than a ruin. Thin wisps of smoke still trailed into the sky. He couldn’t believe that not even twenty-four hours ago he’d been standing on the balcony… which no longer existed. Sparks and Lance had still been alive, the port had been as busy as ever, and he was gazing out at a beautiful sunrise.

How quickly it could all fall apart.

The filly’s voice drew him from his dull reverie. “Shouldn’t we check the other ships?”

Fancy sighed and slowly pulled himself to his hooves. “Yeah… yeah, that might be a good idea.”

The thought didn’t occur to Fancy until they were both back on the dock. “So what’s your name, anyway?”

The filly ducked her head. She kept silent for several seconds. “It’s…. Fleur. Fleur Purpurnyj.”

He tilted his head her way. “Fleur… what?”

She blushed with a scowl. “I was born in Griffa, okay?”

“I see.” He glanced away with a weak cough. “Well, Miss… Miss Fleur, I’m Fancy Pants. I’m sorry we had to meet under such circumstances. If it’s any consolation, I had planned to introduce myself in a gentlepony manner before.”

He walked on for a few more steps before realizing she was no longer at his side. He turned about to find her glaring at him, body low as if she were prepared to bolt. “Did I say something wrong?”

Her lips curled in a small sneer. “What did you mean about introducing yourself?”

He was taken aback by her sudden, blatant aggression. He stepped back for the sake of giving her space and sat. “At the restaurant. I saw the owner throw you out. I was going to buy you some food, because you said you were hungry.”

Her eyes remained locked with his, piercing as her horn sparked. “Is that all?”

He shifted. He started to look around in search of inspiration, but that only gave him a hideous view of just how many bodies were floating in the water. His stomach churning, he forced his eyes back to hers and held a hoof at his midsection.

Fleur tensed. She looked as if she would flee at any moment.

As soon as he was sure he had control of his insides, Fancy said, “What other reason do you expect?”

She snorted. “From you, I—” She let out a small gasp, her eyes widening as they shifted to aim over his shoulder.

Fearing that the dragons had returned, Fancy jerked about. What he saw instead filled him with relief; a pegasus squadron was circling the island. “Thank Goddess!”

He saw three of the pegasi break formation and dive for them. Within seconds, they were hovering over Fancy and Fleur. The leader landed before Fancy and saluted, and she responded in kind. The pegasus had wide eyes that kept shifting to the waters.

“Captain Oak Feathers, 42nd South Squadron.” She held out her hoof.

Fancy accepted it. “First Lieutenant Fancy Pants, Canterlot Reserves.”

She nodded, then looked about at the ruin. “What in the name of Celestia happened here?”

Fancy grimaced and waited for her to look his way before answering. He said only one word, for really it was all he needed.

“Dragons.”

Fine Crime leaned against the stone wall, his breath coming in sharp gasps. He didn’t bother to wipe his hooves clean; it never helped. His stomach was fighting with him, but four years of practice had taught him how to keep control. He still covered his mouth, just in case. The coppery scent assaulted his nostrils as he did.

Seconds perhaps. Or was it minutes? His mind kept flitting over his actions. He could remember them, vividly. Every stroke, every slash, every scream. Worst of all was the sadistic pleasure it gave him. He always remembered.

He always hated.

He looked down at his hooves, their mottled brown color stained a deep red. He could feel the fur of his coat sticking to his body, and a disgusted sensation threatened his insides once more. A bath… he desperately needed a bath. But first…

He turned to stare at the small room. His eyes roamed the gore, scanning for the item. In all the… excitement… he’d forgotten where he’d left it. He stepped over the body parts, peering in the darkness and trying not to focus too intently on the blood-soaked evidence of his revolting deed.

Ah, there it was, embedded in what he thought might have been lungs. He used his magic to jerk the black blade out, noting how the blood dripped from it. He let the knife rotate before him, examining the bone carefully. It was one of his little rituals now.

“I’m sorry, Sugarcube,” he whispered. “That’s sixty four.”

He reset the necklace to the blade’s handle and let it rest on his neck. Sucking in one last, shuddering breath, he turned and knocked on the door. “I’m done.”

He heard a deadbolt unlatch, and the door swung open. He stepped out of the room and into the dungeon’s main hallway. The guard took a cautious step back at the sight of the blood drenching Fine’s body.

The guard sucked in a slow breath before speaking. “I take it there’s a bigger mess than usual.”

“Five weeks will do that to a stallion,” Fine grumbled. He turned away without another word and made his own way out.

Keeping to the shadows was an easy task, one Fine had perfected over a lifetime of practice. It came in handy when one was soaked in blood and didn’t want to be seen. His mind kept going over the scene again and again; the panic, the pleading, the shrieks.

His own delighted laughter. The sound echoed in his ears and made him shiver. Even if they had been depraved criminals, Fine wished there could be an alternative. Yet he knew better, so he kept his mind from lingering over the guilt and unpleasantness. He could do nothing for his anger and frustration, but he had something to help him out back at his hotel.

Fine paused in the alley, his eyes on the building across the street. His room was on the second floor. He crossed his eyes at his horn with a glower. “Might as well…”

He closed his eyes and concentrated. He tried to calm his mind, to exert a level of control over his emotions and find just the right magical combination. He knew this didn’t require a lot of magic. Minutes passed as he concentrated, the red aura of his horn shifting and drifting in small, experimental motions. Every passing second was a strain on his mind and he could feel his anger building.

At last he let out a small snarl and gave up, the magical aura fading as he opened his eyes and glared at the hotel. So much for a little magical experimentation to calm his nerves. With a sneer and a quick check to make sure that there were no late night wanderers to see him, he crept across the street and made his way to his room. Not once did he stop his stealthy routine; by now it was second nature to him.

He paused at the door, not bothering to take out his key. Fine felt at the lock with his magic, prepared to pick the lock for practice as always.

He tensed; the door was already unlocked. He stared at the peep hole for several seconds, eyes glaring daggers and legs flexing. He reached up to tap the blade dangling from his throat, making it sway like a pendulum. There could only be two possibilities here…

Fine stepped aside from the open entrance and used his magic to slowly open the door. Nothing came bursting out, but he wasn’t relieved. Keeping low and ready to act in an instant, he crept to the door and peered inside.

The light in the kitchen was on.

“Don’t worry, Fine. It’s just me.”

Fine sneered, but relaxed. He went inside and closed the door, instinctually using his magic to silence the hinges. He walked to the kitchen and glowered at the sight of a pegasus sitting at the table and eating an oatburger. Every time Fine saw the stallion he felt as if the divine goddess had decided to play a cruel prank; the pegasus had a dark grey coat and, contrasting harshly with it, a bright pink mane. It was truly a hideous combination.

The stallion lowered his glasses to peer at the bloodsoaked Fine. “You look like you had fun.”

Fine snorted his displeasure and turned to the bathroom. “What do you want, Hoofknife?”

“Is that any way to treat your boss and mentor?”

Fine glanced at himself in the mirror, revolted by the blood that was smeared across his face. Was that a piece of skin in his mane? He grimaced and threw it into the toilet, flushing the piece of flesh away, then jumped into the shower.

He called over the noise of the shower. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Coltcago putting the screws on Don Trotioni’s ponies?”

Hoofknife didn’t answer… and that caught Fine’s attention. He waited until he’d scrubbed every last drop of blood from his coat – which took a considerable amount of time – and was out of the shower before trying to speak again. He found Hoofknife still at the table, his burger eaten and his head bowed in contemplation.

Fine frowned and sat opposite the Mane Archon, before a burger than had already been set for him. Fine pushed it away; he didn’t have much of an appetite after tonight.

“Something’s come up,” Hoofknife said, at last looking Fine in the eye. His green eyes had that hard manner that he only acquired under severe circumstances, and Fine paid appropriate attention.

“Must be really bad if you decided to leave Trotioni alone over it.”

Hoofknife nodded. “A situation has arisen in the Bay of Trotaloosa.”

Fine leaned back and said nothing.

His boss waited a couple seconds, perhaps to see if Fine would say anything. At last he explained, “Dragons have attacked Mirar el Cielo.”

Fine blinked, not sure he heard that right.

“They wiped the place out,” Hoofknife continued, his eyes on his hooves and expression solemn. “It was a slaughter. A pegasus patrol spotted the smoke this morning and only found two survivors. They’re en route to Estéril Pezuñas as we speak.”

Fine stared at his mentor for several seconds as he struggled to process this information. The only thing he could think of was the most obvious of all questions: “We’re at war with the dragons?”

Hoofknife nodded. “Celestia will be leaving for the castle soon, if she hasn’t already. She’s hoping to mediate a peace before things get any worse.”

Fine leaned forward, his hooves set in a triangle on the desk as he thought. There was no way Equestria could survive a war against the dragons, even with Celestia on the frontlines. “Have there been any other attacks?”

Hoofknife shrugged. “Archon agents on the southern border haven’t reported anything, and it’s been about twenty-four hours since the attack.”

“So no blitz attack.” Fine peered at his boss for a couple seconds. The stallion should be on his way to rendezvous with Celestia right now, but he’d come by to see Fine instead. There could be only one reason.

“What are you going to have me do?”

Hoofknife smiled and nodded as if pleased. “You’re coming with me.”

Fine thought for a few more seconds. “What am I supposed to do? I’m not exactly known for my dragon slaying. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the Lord of Estéril Pezuñas a dragon slayer?”

Hoofknife glowered. “Yes, if the stories are to be believed. Even the Archons aren’t sure of all the facts. But I’m not bringing you along to help fight, Fine; it’s not our job to go marching into battle.”

“So?” Fine leaned back once more and waited.

“The dragons wouldn’t attack without good reason,” Hoofknife told him. “They’re a greedy race of bullies, but they’re not monsters. Your job will be to find out why they attacked.”

Fine’s eyebrows roe. “You want me to sneak into the Badlands and spy on the dragons?”

Hoofknife cringed. “Hopefully you’ll be able to find something out without resorting to that, but if it’s necessary…”

With a groan, Fine grabbed his oatburger and took a big bite. It didn’t taste like much, but then his stomach was still roiling from the events of the night. “I take it we leave immediately.”

“As soon as you’re done.”

Fine raised an eyebrow at the stallion. “So if I’m risking my neck saving a nation full of morons, what will you be doing?”

Hoofknife’s frown deepened. “Keeping an eye on Celestia.”

Fine tilted his head. “You think she may come under threat?”

“I think the dragons are attacking for a reason,” Hoofknife repeated. “That reason could be to lure our high and mighty princess south and test her immortality.”

“You just insinuated not sixty seconds ago that the dragons could be reasoned with,” Fine said. “Do you really think they’d slaughter an entire island of ponies just to get to her?”

“We have to observe all possibilities,” his mentor reminded him. “My responsibility is to Celestia first, and always has been.”

Fine sniffed and focused on his burger. “I say let the stupid lizards eat and get it over with.”

Hoofknife’s grimaced. “Someday you’re going to learn to respect Celestia and what she does for Equestria.”

“As long as she ignores Equestria’s worst issues, she’ll get nothing but loathing from me,” Fine grumbled.

Hoofknife heaved an unpleasant sigh and stood. “I’m not having this debate with you again. Eat quick and meet me outside. And keep that kind of crap to yourself, ya got me?”

Fine snorted and turned his face away, waiting until his boss had left the room to mutter, “Yes, O’ Blindly Loyal One.”

Author's Note

Before anyone asks, yes, Fleur's last name will be explained at some point.

After chit-chatting with some friends on the matter, I have decided to go ahead and return the story to the title I had originally planned for it: 'Reddux the Tyrant.' I know that might annoy some people, but take heart: I won't be doing it again. And where is Reddux himself? Give it time, he'll make himself known in a few chapters.

Those who have read No Heroes will know exactly what Fine was doing in that dungeon and why. His 'issues' will be brought up in the story on at least one more occasion.

Just for the sake of revealing the info: Fine is 20, Fancy is 22 and Fleur is 14.

Family Matters

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter III
Family Matters

Fine thanked whoever the pony was that came up with carriage enchantments, otherwise this journey would have been much more difficult. Aside from making the wagon feel lighter as he pulled, it also made every regular step go the distance of five, letting him keep up with the black cloud of pegasi in the distance. These benefits were most welcome in the burning desert sun.

Even so, Fine wasn’t comfortable. It had nothing to do with the heat and everything to do with the lack of suitable hiding spots. He felt exposed and vulnerable, and even now he couldn’t believe that the royal procession in the distance hadn’t noticed a lone wagon following behind. Maybe he was just paranoid. Hoofknife certainly would think so, which was one of the reasons he kept his mouth shut.

“Hey, Fine.”

He closed his eyes and growled. “Yeah?”

“What’s a more political way of saying ‘We’re right behind your white hot flank?’”

Fine looked back with a bemused frown at Hoofknife, who was sitting in the wagon and peering at a letter he was writing. Two new ones appeared over his head as Fine glared, dropping amongst a steadily growing pile.

“You’re joking.”

Hoofknife shook his head as he grabbed one of the letters and began reading. “Cut me some slack, I’m busier than a parasprite at a royal banquet.”

Fine sighed and turned his head forward, peering unpleasantly at the pegasi cloud. He could just see Celestia in her massive carriage awaiting his boss’s response. “You want it with or without the literary molestation?”

“Without.”

He closed his eyes and quickly came up with a line. “‘We can confirm visually that we will be arriving at Estéril Pezuñas mere hours after Her Highness.’ You want me to edit your autobiography while I’m at it?”

“Not bad.” Hoofknife didn’t seem at all perturbed by his bitterly sarcastic manner. “Sometimes I wish I had you around more often to make me look smarter.”

“Doesn’t take much,” Fine grumbled.

“What was that?”

Fine turned his head to the side and huffed, refusing to look back.

“If you think this job’s so easy,” Hoofknife lectured, “I’d like to see you do it.”

“No, thank you.” Fine glared at the horizon, his ears lowering and a sinking feeling in his gut. “I’m pissed off enough with where I am, I’d probably be brutal doing your job.”

His boss’s tone grew dark. “If you don’t like being an Archon so much, why don’t you just quit?”

Fine gritted his teeth and picked up his pace a touch.

“I asked you a—”

“You know why.”

A bitter silence filled the hot air between them. It lasted a long time, and for that Fine was relieved. He would be content to finish the rest of the trip without having to listen to anymore of the bastard’s lecturing.

At last the silence was breached. “Fine… I need to know you’re going to give me your all on this.”

Fine sighed and forced his anger down. He didn’t blame the pony for his hesitation. In his horseshoes, Fine would have been hesitant, too.

He kept his tone as even as he could manage. “You know that I will do the job. It would be improper of me not to. I’m not the kind of stallion to just quit when things start getting uncomfortable… or completely defies his view of the world. You tell me to go spy on dragons, I’ll spy on dragons. I don’t have to be happy to do it.”

Mind heavy with bitter thoughts, he kept walking as he waited for Hoofknife to say something.

He blinked as he sensed the presence, glancing aside to see the Mane Archon beside him and watching with a concerned frown. The pony had to almost gallop to keep up with Fine’s enchanted hoofsteps.

“You should be riding,” Fine said.

Hoofknife sighed and shook his head. “Fine, when I recruited you in Saddle Arabia, I knew you could offer the Archons something great.”

Fine raised an eyebrow. “You mean I haven’t?”

His boss looked away, his eyes low. “You’ve been the perfect Archon in action. I just… I thought maybe the Archons would give you something, too.”

“You did,” Fine grumbled. “Fresh meat once every three weeks.”

Hoofknife shot him a harsh look. “I was hoping for something more along the lines of fulfillment.”

Fine frowned, but his anger faded quickly at his boss’ – no, his mentor’s – expression. His shoulders slumped and he averted his gaze. He suddenly felt… tired. “I’m sorry, Pixie, but I think I’m too far gone for that.”

Hoofknife studied him closely, as if trying to solve a deep and complicated puzzle. His tone was soft and sincere. “What’s it like? Never feeling any joy?”

Fine closed his eyes and sucked in a slow, calming breath.

“Like living in a world of shadows, where no sunlight can ever penetrate.”

His mentor considered this answer for a few seconds, then looked out at the cloud of pegasi in the distance. “The sun’s right there. Get close enough and it might break through.”

Fine stared at the flying mass of royal guards. If he looked closely, he thought he could make out the sunlight shimmering off their armor. He could only imagine Celestia’s carriage hidden amongst the protective formation.

The thought only filled him with that familiar sinking feeling.

“I don’t think even she could fix me now.”

The harbor city of Estéril Pezuñas stood out like a sore hoof on the brown coastline, its tall castle towers poking at the sky like flagpoles. Against the backdrop of the Surcingle Mountains, the place seemed squat and unimportant. Just as when he’d left the city on his way to the island of Sueño, Fancy gazed at the place and had difficulty thinking of it as a major center of foreign trade. If not for his father’s financial ledger, he’d have thought the whole idea a hoax.

Fancy stood at the bow of the caravel, watching the city gradually move closer. It would be no more than a couple hours before they landed. Fancy couldn’t wait; he was eager to know what he would be doing next. With Mirar el Cielo destroyed, he would be needing a new post.

Perhaps he’d have to stay at the castle. The border with the Badlands wasn’t but a few days south of Estéril Pezuñas. The dragons were sure to attack the city before long.

Captain Oak Feathers appeared at his side, her expression grim. She glowered at the city, her orange wings fluffing in her agitation. “A dump, don’t ya think?”

Fancy might have smiled if he weren’t feeling so conflicted. “It’s no Canterlot.”

She gave him a concerned frown, brushing her light grey mane aside. “You okay?”

He sighed and turned his eyes away from the harbor. “I’ve been better. Did my letter get sent as I requested?”

She nodded. “On its way to your parents as we speak.”

“Good.” He hesitated, eyes once more lingering over the castle. “I wish I knew where I was going next.”

Oak shivered. “After what you went through? They might let you go with an honorable discharge.”

Fancy gave her a curious look, working his lips as he considered that possibility.

“You don’t seem to happy about that. Looking for revenge?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, leaned against the railing and gazing at the waters below. Dolphins were dancing in the waves before the ship, and he let his eyes follow their playful motions. “Part of me wishes I could pay the dragons back for what they did, but another part is screaming about the possibility of having to face them. I mean, they’re dragons, and I’ve seen what they can do.”

Oak set a hoof to his shoulder. “I know you’re a new recruit, Fancy, but believe me when I say nopony expects you to face anymore of this. You’ve already seen more than most soldiers do in their entire lives.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, once again seeing the sea of corpses. He lingered on the mental image, letting his stomach churn with the memory. “That may be… but I don’t want to go home without doing something. Even if it isn’t fighting. I can’t just abandon this.”

There was silence between them. Fancy wondered if Oak would leave him be. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her around… he just had a lot to think about and not much time to do so.

Yet Oak didn’t leave. “What about the girl?”

Fancy blinked and gave her a questioning look. “The girl?”

A new voice reached their ears. “Yes, the girl. What about the girl?”

They turned to find Fleur watching them. Her expression was hard. “I would love to know what I am to do once we reach port.”

Fancy and Oak shared uncertain looks, and Fancy took a step towards Fleur. He paused as she backed away. Their eyes locked, and as he gazed into her violet irises he saw something he knew he shouldn’t see in one her age: suspicion.

He cleared his throat to buy time to think. “You’re… well… I’m guessing you didn’t have a home in the first place, so…”

“I did,” she snapped. “I left it.”

Oak stepped forward. “Then… I guess your parents—”

“Died years ago.” Fleur turned her face away from them with a scowl. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t have a home.”

Fancy wanted to ask about this, but if he knew anything about teenagers it was that when they didn’t want to talk, they wouldn’t. Sighing, he turned his attention to Oak. “So what are we going to do? I imagine there are some plans.”

Oak nodded, though she kept her concerned eyes set on Fleur. “You two are the only ones to survive, the only ones who witnessed what happened back there. A few higher-ups are going to want to question both of you.”

Fancy frowned and shook his head. “Not sure how much good we’ll be. It’s not as if we have world-changing information about how to kill dragons.”

“It’s just the process,” Oak told him. She rolled her eyes, but Fancy suspected it was more aimed at the ‘higher-ups’ than at him.

“How important will they be?”

They turned to Fleur, who was watching Oak with wide eyes.

Oak shifted and adjusted her uniform. “I don’t follow.”

“Will it just be soldiers?” Fleur leaned forward to peer. “Politicians?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Oak rubbed the back of her head with a frown. “It could go all the way to the top.”

Fancy hesitated. “You mean Sir Deeds?”

“I mean Princess Celestia.” Oak noticed how his jaw dropped. “You didn’t know? She’s on her way to Estéril Pezuñas in hopes of negotiating a quick peace.”

Fancy swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to stare at the city, abruptly aware that the ship was coming up on the docks. Him, meet Celestia? He’d seen her a few times in the distance, but to be face-to-face with her? He closed his eyes as his heart did a little flip.

“What about Daring Deeds?” Fleur pressed. “We… we aren’t really going to have to see him, are we?”

“It’s entirely possible,” Oak said. “As the only dragonslayer in Equestria, he’s bound to want some direct info.”

A lingering pause.

“Fleur?”

Fancy turned around to see that Fleur had her head and ears low. Her jaw was set against her shuddering breath and her eyes shifted frantically.

Leaning towards her, Fancy asked, “Fleur? Are you okay?”

She jerked her head up, staring at him and Oak as if she’d just remembered they were there. She exhaled a long breath before turning away. “I’m fine… I just… I just need to lie down.” She left them alone, her head low and her tail tucked.

Fancy gave Oak a wide-eyed glance. “What do you think that was about?”

“Who knows?” Oak turned to walk away. “I could never read kids. Maybe she was excited?”

There were many words Fancy might have used for Fleur’s behavior. ‘Excited’ certainly wasn’t one of them.

‘Fear’ came to mind.

Fancy and Fleur walked side-by-side, escorted by a half dozen guards. The castle of Estéril Pezuñas loomed over their heads, the main gates closing behind. It seemed Sir Deeds was eager to greet the survivors of the ‘Slaughter of Sueño,’ as the event was fast becoming known. Fancy had enough time to acquire a new, proper officer’s uniform before he and Fleur had been whisked away from the ship.

Fancy wasn’t too burdened by the coming meeting. Daring Deeds was a knighted hero, true, but a Canterlot native was no stranger to meeting high-ranking ponies. No, he was more anxious about having the chance to meet Celestia, assuming such came to pass. She wasn’t even in the city yet, and he was already fighting butterflies.

A cursory glance at Fleur, however, revealed that she was far less comfortable with this situation. Though she held her head high, there was an unmistakable trembling in her lower lip and her breathing was strained. Fancy was left with the impression that, were it not for the guards escorting them, she might have bolted at the first opportunity. He was almost desperate to ask her what was wrong, but his few attempts at catching her attention were ignored.

The castle had a worn look to it, the tapestries faded and the stones cracked in places. The halls were narrow considering the structure’s size, though three ponies could easily walk side-by-side within them. Fleur flinched away as she and Fancy were forced to move a little closer together. Every time she did that he couldn’t help wondering why.

They moved through a wing of the castle that had clearly not been used in some time; moss grew on the stones and grass was actually growing through the floor in some places. The decorative armor lining the larger halls had a thick layer of dust. Servants were scurrying about and cleaning as much as they could, though it was clearly a challenge.

At last they came upon a wide room several stories up. It appeared to be a war room, complete with decorative weaponry, paintings of old Equestrian generals and, set at the very center, a massive map of Equestria and the Badlands. The entire room was lit by the sunlight from a tall, wide balcony window that had been left open.

At the table were gathered four ponies, who were examining the map with ominous expressions. One of them, a light red stallion of considerable size and a similarly-colored mane, turned to peer at the visitors. He had a long, thick scar running across his shoulder and down his chest and one of his ears was half-missing. He bore a golden necklace, from which hung a amulet that featured a dragon’s claw.

“Sir Deeds,” the captain of the guards announced, “these are the survivors of the Slaughter of Sueño.”

Daring Deeds stepped forward, his hard eyes set to Fancy’s. Fancy met it with solemn patience, keeping his expression as neutral as he could. He had to admit, that scar and the muscles certainly made the stallion intimidating.

A few seconds passed before Daring Deeds turned his eye on Fleur. He blinked and his expression softened. “Fleur?”

Fleur kept her head raised and her eyes hard.

“Hello, uncle.”

Fancy’s head whipped towards her, his jaw dropping.

“Fleur,” Sir Deeds whispered, taking a few steps closer. “I… I thought you were dead.”

Fleur took a step back, her eyelids lowering. Even so, she maintained her calm voice. “Not yet, despite everything.”

Sir Deeds frowned. “What were you doing in Su—no, no it’s not important.” He attempted a recovering smile. “The important thing is that you’re alive, my pretty little niece. It’s… good to see you.”

Fleur pursed her lips and didn’t answer.

After a few seconds of staring at her, Sir Deeds finally turned his attention to Fancy, who promptly regained his soldier’s stance. “And what is your name, officer?”

Fancy kept his voice firm. “Sir, I am First Lieutenant Fancy Pants from Canterlot.” He bowed his head politely.

Sir Deeds returned the motion. “Welcome, Fancy Pants. I am sorry that we are meeting under circumstances such as these. You are welcome as a guest in my castle, so please feel at home. You may consider yourself on leave for the time being; Celestia knows you deserve it.”

“My thanks, Lord.” Nopony grew up in Canterlot without knowing how to keep a straight face, and Fancy did an exemplary job of maintaining one. In his head, though, his mind was running away with him. He hoped, dearly, that this period of being ‘on leave’ wouldn’t last long.

Sir Deeds waved to the officers behind him. “My advisers will want to question you both about what happened. Do not worry, we won’t begin immediately. You’ll have a night to rest and recoup from your ordeal. We expect Princess Celestia to arrive sometime tomorrow morning. I am confident she’ll want to be there for the questioning.”

Fancy hesitated, but only for an instant. “I understand.”

An eyebrow rose and Sir Deeds smiled. “Never met the princess, have you?”

“No, sir.”

Sir Deeds’ smile widened. “Well don’t you worry, she only turns half the ponies she meets to dust, and under the circumstances you’ve probably got better odds than that.”

Fancy frowned at the attempt at a joke; what in Equestria made him think he was actually afraid of the princess? He was nervous, true, but Fancy knew Celestia wasn’t that kind of leader.

The Lord of Estéril Pezuñas chuckled as if he’d delivered some fine wit before waving at the door. “For now, why don’t you both rest? I’m going to be very busy over the next few days and there’s just no time for idle chit-chat.”

“Uncle.”

He glanced at Fleur, whose ears lowered at the attention. She averted her eyes in Fancy’s direction and took a small step closer to him. “If it’s alright… I would prefer a room next to his. He did save my life and… and…”

Sir Deeds considered her solemnly for a few seconds, his eyes flickering between her and Fancy every now and then. “I understand. He makes you feel safer, doesn’t he?”

Fleur bowed her head and gave no answer. Fancy studied her, but she wouldn’t meet his eye.

“Very well.” Sir Deeds nodded, but his voice was firm. “Under the circumstances, if it’s that important to you. But do not think we won’t be talking about… things, Fleur.”

She kept her eyes on her hooves as she nodded.

“These are your rooms.”

Fancy glanced at the large doors, one opposite the other. The servant opened the one on the right and gestured to him, so he took a look. It wasn’t as large as his room in Canterlot, but by what he’d seen of Estéril Pezuñas so far, Fancy imagined this to be quite a luxurious bedroom. A trio of small windows permitted light to enter, highlighting a large canopy bed, bookshelves and a reading table. A thick rug covered most of the floor. It was far better than what he’d had in Mirar el Cielo.

“If there is anything we can get you, don’t hesitate to call for a servant.” Fancy turned and nodded to the mare. He saw Fleur examining her own room and peered at her.

“This will do nicely,” he said, offering the servant a small smile that, for reasons he couldn’t comprehend, earned him a blush. “If it’s quite all right, I’d like to have lunch soon. I’ve not had much to eat since…” His lips faltered and he averted his eyes, not wanting to think on such things.

“It will be done.” The mare turned to leave, but stopped. “…sir?”

Fancy turned to her. “Yes?”

After a few seconds of hesitation, she turned back to him. Her ears lowered as she asked, “Are they… are they coming here? To Estéril Pezuñas?”

He observed the way she chewed her lip and the uncertainty in her eyes. He wanted to tell her ‘no’ to ease her fears… but couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I can say with full honesty that I don’t know… but I think it’s likely.”

“I see…” She sagged a touch, her eyes glazing over in anxious thought. “Thank you, sir. You’re lunch will arrive soon.”

He watched her walk away, his chest tight. If only he had more answers…

Fancy turned to find Fleur’s door already closed. He glanced about to see if there was anypony nearby before stepping up to the door and knocking. “Fleur? It’s me.”

Her muffled voice answered, “Not now, Fancy.”

“I won’t keep you,” he called. “I just wanted to know… why. Why did you want a room next to my own?”

“I already explained that.”

Fancy’s frown deepened. “What you told your uncle was a lie.”

He heard the latch click. The door opened just a crack and Fleur brought her head out… but only just enough so that he could see her face. Her eyes were low and she wouldn’t look at him.

“You… you could tell?”

He nodded. “It has nothing to do with the dragons, does it?”

Fleur chewed her lip, still refusing to meet his gaze. “That’s just a part of it.”

He leaned forward a little to scrutinize her, but he could get nothing from her expression. “What’s the other part?”

Her eyes shifted to him, though they kept low. “Fancy… I…” She took a moment to suck in a deep breath. “If I were to ask if you are a good stallion, what would you tell me?”

He blinked and stood up straight. “Well, I… I’d tell you that I try to be.”

“And how could I trust you?” There was no accusation in her tone, but he still leaned back.

“How?” He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

She closed her eyes and took another calming breath. “I don’t trust you, Fancy. I can’t. But you’ve already saved my life once. That’s… something. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay nearby.”

He tilted his head, trying to make sense of what she was saying. Did she feel threatened in some way? Still, he wasn’t about to refuse such a request; what kind of stallion would he be? “That’s fine.”

She nodded. “Good. Thank you.” She worked her lips and hesitated. “Will that be all?”

Fancy examined her, leaning over a little in hopes of attracting her eyes. She simply would not look directly at him.

“There’s one more thing.”

She shifted. “Y-yes?”

He took a step closer, and her eyes widened just a touch. Did her breathing just get a little faster? He leaned forward, looking her right in the eye. Still she wouldn’t look back.

“I know we only just met,” he said at last, “and it’s entirely possible that we’ll be separated within a couple days and never see one another again. Even so… what do I have to do to earn your trust?”

She closed her eyes, her lips trembling.

“Fleur?”

At last she looked at him. Her pupils had contracted just a touch, but there was also a hint of something else, a distinct imploring nature to her expression.

“Do not leave me alone with my uncle. Ever.”

The door closed. Fancy could only stare.

Author's Note

How odd. Usually I have something to say about the way things turn out in a chapter. This time? I'm at a loss for words.

Oh well. Perhaps I'll be more talkative with the next one.

Interviews

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter IV
Interviews

Fleur sagged, weariness overcoming her. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into a bed and sleep. Her heavy-lidded eyes roamed the halls of the castle outside the war room as she waited. The servants had to have been working throughout the night. Gone were the mildew and mold; the dust had been cleared and the images replaced with newer, improved variants.

It was an impressive job. Having once worked as a maid, she could appreciate the effort made, if not the pony who'd given the order. She turned her gaze to the door leading to the war room, eager to listen in on Fancy's debriefing. That wasn't possible, though, not with four guards watching her like hawks.

The first two had arrived sometime in the night. No doubt Sir Deeds claimed he was protecting his 'pretty little niece' and last living relative. Fleur was so desperate to get out of this city, but escaping a second time would not be easy.

A pegasus soldier came trotting through the halls, her expression stern. She went directly to the guards by the door and whispered something to them. They'd been given strict orders not to let anypony interfere with the questioning, but they let her through nonetheless. Fleur stood straight and watched the door, knowing something was about to occur; she knew enough about military insignias to recognize the pegasus as having come from Canterlot.

Minutes passed in silence. Fleur frowned; perhaps the pegasus had only been sent to deliver a message?

At last the door opened. Sir Deeds’ officers stepped out, muttering among themselves. Some appeared agitated, but most seemed worried. Fancy Pants walked out, and she wasted no time approaching him.

"What's happened?"

Fancy's face had gone an extra shade of white. "Celestia has come back from the ruins. She wants to meet me... in private."

She blinked. "Just you? Doesn't she want to see me too?"

He gave her a curious look, his anxiety fading as his confused eyes set on hers. "I... would think so. Perhaps she is to interview each of us separately, just as the officers here are?"

Fleur considered this for several seconds as she rubbed her chin with the back of a hoof. "I suppose. Perhaps this is my uncle's doing?"

Fancy tilted his head with a frown. "I don't follow."

She opened her mouth to reply, only to back away swiftly: her uncle stood just behind Fancy. Her mouth dried up and her eyes widened at the sight of the big stallion's pleasant smile.

"You should get going," Sir Deeds told Fancy, who didn't seem at all surprised by his sudden appearance. "It's never good to keep the princess waiting."

He turned to Fleur and his smile grew just a little. "Fleur, my pretty little niece. I think it's about time you and I had a talk."

Fleur's stomach churned and a thread of panic crept into her mind. She took another step back, distinctly aware of the two guards just behind her. "I... I think I'd rather go with Fancy Pants."

"That's impossible," Sir Deeds replied, not losing his smile. "The princess only requested his presence. She'll get to you eventually, Fleur, you just need to be patient. In the meantime, you have a lot of explaining to do. We're going to your room."

Fleur's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widened. She took a step towards Fancy, stumbling on her wobbling legs. "N-no, I... we can talk later. Maybe over... um..."

Sir Deeds' smile faded, replaced with a stern stare. "No, Fleur. Your room. Now."

A shuddery breath flew from her lungs and she fought down the shout building in her throat. If only she could flee, if only there was some way to stay safe! Her stomach churned and her tail slipped between her legs as she turned to Fancy with imploring eyes. Let him remember his promise, let him be a halfway decent stallion…

Fancy shifted from hoof to hoof and adjusted his uniform. He stared at her, lips working as he struggled to make a decision. “M-my lord, surely Celestia will want to talk to both of us. I really—”

“This is a family matter, Mr. Pants.” Sir Deeds’ voice wasn't harsh, but it was commanding. "Celestia asked for you only, and that is what she will get."

Fancy hesitated as Fleur took a step closer to him. She mouthed please a couple times while her eyes flitted to her uncle and she trembled. She could see that glint in his eye, the harsh desire that had become the product of nightmares. If only somepony else could recognize the intentions in that smile…

“I must protest," Fancy finally said, though his voice lacked conviction. "I am sure the princess would like to handle this with the utmost efficiency, and—”

Sir Deeds turned to the soldiers at the door. “Escort the First Lieutenant to the princess's chambers immediately.”

Fleur watched, her heart pounding as Fancy was left with no choice but to be herded away. He looked back with uncertain, apologetic eyes before disappearing down the hallway. Her body lowered and her chin trembled as she turned back to her uncle, whose smile returned.

He stepped forward, close enough that his hot breath was on her cheek. His terrible eyes bored into her, cowed her, sapped her mental strength.

“Now then, shall we pick up where we left off?”

Though her lips were sealed, in her mind Fleur was screaming.

Fancy's brain thrummed with indecision and conflicting priorities. He'd seen the fear in those violet eyes and knew Fleur was terrified of her uncle, though he couldn't fathom why. He'd wanted to hold back, to press the issue, to honor his promise to Fleur. Yet at the same time, was it really his place to debate with a hero of Equestria? Surely a pony of such reputed caliber as Sir Deeds had only the best intentions... but there was no denying what he'd seen in Fleur's face at that final moment.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, his mind was frantically trying to prepare itself for a meeting with Equestria's very own princess. Her request came so suddenly, he had no time to prepare! He wanted to look and act his best before Celestia, and thanks to her sudden arrival at least one of those options was out of the question. Not that his appearance was improper, not at all... but he was a nervous wreck, regardless.

This was the state he found himself in as he stood before the massive door to Celestia's temporary chambers, his mind struggling to settle itself into a proper display of calm. He wasn't ready when the soldier knocked on the door and announced his arrival. They had to give him an encouraging nudge before he could approach and push his way inside.

The room was large, but not as much as he’d anticipated. There were no windows, but the table at the center of the room and the shelves on the walls suggested this might only be an entryway. To the side was a smaller door, which Fancy assumed led to the actual bedroom. Celestia was nowhere to be seen.

The door closed and Fancy found himself all alone. He glanced about with a small frown, tail flicking the air, but then the other door opened.

Fancy felt his heart hammering in his chest as the princess entered the room. She was tall, her pearly coat immaculate and her form pleasantly slender. A radiance of colors cascaded from her ever-flowing mane and tail as she moved to stand before him. She had incredible magenta eyes, and it took everything he had to tear his gaze from them so he could bow properly.

This wasn’t his first time seeing the princess; as a Canterlot native, he’s spotted her on numerous occasions. But those were always from a distance, safely ensconced within the ambiguous crowds as she passed on parade or spoke from the castle. To be so close, alone and at the center of her attention made his legs wobble.

“Rise, Fancy Pants, and please, relax.”

As if he could! Fancy rose as ordered and sat before her, but he didn’t dare meet those eyes again. He said nothing, deathly afraid of what might come out of his mouth.

Celestia sat before him. A moment of quiet passed. Fancy fought as hard as he could not to fidget. He abruptly remembered all the teasing Lance and Sparks put him… used to put him through and couldn’t resist a blush.

“Fancy.”

He jerked his eyes to hers. She held a warm, disarming smile.

“Relax.”

He did. He didn’t know why, but he did; the tension in his shoulders eased, his heart rate slowed and he released a breath he’d not known he’d been holding.

Celestia nodded. “There. That’s better, is it not?”

“Y-yes…” He somehow managed to smile for her. “Much better. Thank you, Princess.”

Celestia giggled, a delightful sound. “I did nothing, Fancy. I have simply learned that it often takes my little ponies a moment to get over what I like to call ‘first contact.’”

He chuckled along with her. “I think I understand.”

For a brief moment, everything was pleasant, but then a frown formed on Celestia’s lips. She turned her face away. “I have been to Mirar el Cielo. I am sorry that you have to meet me under such circumstances.”

The happy bubble burst, and Fancy slowly lowered his head. “As am I, Princess… As am I.”

She turned her eyes back to him. “I am truly sorry, Fancy, but I must ask that you recount the events.”

He sucked in a deep breath and shuddered. “I understand. My recollection is… vivid, but I am not sure what information you can gather from me. I honestly don’t know much about dragons, your highness.”

“That is okay,” she said, voice reassuring. “Any small amount of information could be helpful in solving this terrible ordeal before it escalates. Come,” she turned back for the door, “let us get more comfortable.”

He followed her to a much larger room, lavishly decorated with ornate purple and red tapestries and brightly illuminated by a tall, wide window. A canopy bed sat in one corner, tall and comfortable-looking. Celestia guided him to a trio of pillows, taking for herself the one closest to the window. Fancy sat on one opposite her, the soft touch of velvet failing to ease his mind.

“Would you like anything before we begin?” Celestia leaned toward him. “Something to drink? Or eat?”

Fancy felt at his stomach almost instinctually. “N-no, thank you. Food and my memories don’t go well together.”

The princess bowed her head and closed her eyes. A deep frown touched her lips and her brow furrowed. “I understand. Once again, I apologize for asking this of you.”

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his eyes drifting to the window. He already felt tired, and he hadn’t even started. “I know it is necessary.”

She opened her eyes to study him. After several long, terse seconds she nodded. “You may begin when ready. Please, take what time you need.”

Recounting the attack was almost as harrowing as the real thing. Fancy recalled the initial shock, the terror that came to him upon realizing what was happening. He could still see Sparks’ eyes at that last moment – so alarmed, so confused. The echo of screams haunted his ears as he told of rescuing Fleur from the flames; his stomach churned when he envisioned the bodies falling from the sky like rain; he could almost feel his hair shrivel at the intense heat of a dragon’s breath.

Lance’s death rendered Fancy silent for a time.

He moved on, the dismay fresh in his mind as he re-envisioned the collapse of the fort’s great balcony and the shrieks of the ponies in the water.

Celestia spoke little save to ask a question or two, her expression a mask devoid of emotion.

Fancy ended his story with his falling unconscious in the shed, emotionally and physically drained. His head hung loosely, his mind slowly and uncontrollably going over and over the scenes he couldn’t get rid of. He didn’t want to tell her what he saw after he woke up; the very memory brought him to the verge of vomiting. He had tears on his cheeks, though in his vivid retelling he couldn’t remember when he’d started crying.

Seeing that he was done, Celestia bowed her head. “Thank you for telling me this, Fancy. And I thank you, also, for saving the life of the young Fleur; that anypony survived at all is a miracle.”

He nodded, rubbing the moisture away. “P-Princess… why would the dragons attack Equestria?”

Celestia turned her gaze to the window once more and regained her solemn frown. “I do not know. First Fang Blazen has ruled the Burning Lands for nearly eight centuries, and was always reasonable during our negotiations for the dragon migrations. I can’t imagine he would attack us for no reason.”

He tilted his head. “First Fang Blazen?”

She nodded. “I understand that you do not know of him. The average pony knows nothing of the dragons, and my own knowledge is distressingly limited. Blazen is the leader of the dragons.”

Fancy scowled. “I wonder if he was at Sueño.”

“No.” Celestia’s frown deepened as she thought. “Blazen is orange. You did not see any orange dragons.”

“I see.” He followed her gaze to the window. The ocean was visible in the distance, shimmering in the afternoon sun. Fancy saw it and recalled his many mornings on the balcony. He sought to recapture that image, that moment of calm and comfort, but it was elusive.

Even so… he glanced to the princess, noted the slight sag in her shoulders. He knew there could be no real cheer in this day, but still… he might never get another chance.

“I wanted to thank you.”

Celestia shifted, coming out of her thoughts slowly. She turned to cock her head. “Thank me?”

He nodded, blushing as he kept his eyes on the window. “Every morning, I would wake early and go to the eastern outlook of Mirar el Cielo to watch the sunrise. I’m going to miss that balcony.” He bowed his head and pawed at the floor as his cheeks burned. “I… I love your sunrise.”

There was a moment of quiet. He fidgeted and kept his eyes on his hooves.

“Thank you, Fancy.”

He glanced up to find her beaming a smile so radiant it might have melted his heart. “You’d be surprised how little I hear that. It is always a delight to learn that somepony appreciates my art.”

Fancy averted his eyes once more, knowing his grin looked foalish. Then he recalled how he’d never get to stand on that balcony again, and his pleasure collapsed.

He sighed. “So… what happens now?”

Celestia regained her serious frown. “Now I send couriers south with messages of peace.”

Fancy’s eyebrows rose. “Is that wise? What if the dragons—” He clamped his mouth shut and bowed his head; he knew he might have just stepped dangerously out of bounds. What was he thinking, questioning the princess?

Yet Celestia did not seem at all offended. “You are correct, I may be sending those ponies to their deaths, but I must try to forge a peace as soon as possible. Equestria cannot survive a war against the dragons.”

His head rose and he gaped. “Even with you here?”

Celestia grimaced as she stared out the window once more. “Despite how ponies use my name in their oaths, I am no goddess. My magic has limitations. No, Fancy: if the dragons invade in force, I will not be able to stop them.”

“Oh…” He took this in, stomach tight as he considered the potential consequences of this revelation.

She leaned forward a little, a frail smile on her lips. “Take heart, Fancy, for the dragons have not invaded. This may only be the actions of a small rogue force, and that is something we can stop.”

Fancy wanted to smile for her. He couldn’t.

“Princess, I was there. I’ve seen firsthoof what a mere three dragons can do. They wiped the island out in minutes. I… I don’t know what good the army can do.”

She sighed and nodded. “You are right. Even one dragon is a match for an army of ponies. We can stop them, Fancy, I know it… but the cost will be high. This is just one more reason I must try to contact the First Fang. If it is a rogue force within the Burning Lands, he might be able to help us put a stop to it.”

Fancy shifted from hoof to hoof. “And… if it’s not a rogue force?”

The princess remained silent for several long seconds, her eyes fogged over with thought.

“Then pray, Fancy. Pray for us all.”

Night had fallen over Estéril Pezuñas. Fancy had spent the day alone, thinking long and hard on his meeting with Celestia. There was no escape from the nagging worry; it ate at him like a parasite, churned in his stomach and invaded his mind. He realized that Equestria could very well be facing its end, but he didn’t dare share this with anypony.

He ate dinner in the commons in a corner on his own. He watched the other soldiers and nobles, saw how they laughed and joked and talked about their petty, everyday troubles. It all seemed so unimportant. Did they not understand that an entire island of ponies had been slaughtered only a couple hours away? Were they not aware that a dragon could reach this city within two days of leaving the Badlands?

Yet Fancy said nothing. Let them have their pleasures and think nothing had changed. They would understand soon enough. Perhaps their morale would be higher this way. Besides, Celestia wanted things quiet. She hadn’t said as much, but her intentions were clear.

When would the dragons come? Would they come at all? Was Sueño just a one-time thing? He didn’t dare to hope, but the thought was still there.

Heart heavy, he made his way back to his room. Once more he paused, for there were still two guards outside Fleur’s door. He’d tried to go in and speak to her earlier, but they’d turned him away. Now he eyed them curiously as he entered his room. Were they protecting her… or trying to make sure she didn’t run away again?

Which led to another thought that had been tormenting him all day: why had she fled the castle? What was Fleur doing in Sueño, living on the streets and starving?

Fancy stepped up to the window and gazed at the city below. Fleur was Daring Deeds’ niece, so surely she would have everything she could possibly want. Something serious had to have driven her away from this life of luxury. He closed his eyes and pictured her face from when he’d left her that morning, and one he again he saw the fear.

He had to talk to her.

“Good evening, son of Bright Plume.”

He spun about, horn glowing and eyes sharp, and found a short pegasus standing before the closed door. Fancy almost had to shield his eyes against the hideous mix of grey coat and pink mane.

“Who are you?”

The pegasus’ face was hard as a rock. “I’ve come to ask a few questions.”

Fancy sneered and kept his horn glowing. “Answer my question.”

“No. You’ll answer mine.”

“I do not take orders from civilians.” Fancy stepped forward, pointing his horn at the stranger’s chest. “Who are you and what are you doing in my room?”

The stranger’s expression remained unchanged. “I am in the service of Equestria, that is all you need to know. And I need to know what you do if I am to do my job.”

“Which is?”

“Making sure the dragons don’t destroy Equestria.”

Fancy considered him for several long, tense seconds. He wasn’t sure he could believe anything told to him by a strange pegasus who randomly trespasses on ponies’ privacy. Then again, if the pegasus wished to kill him, why announce his presence?

Knowing he might need to call upon his magic at any time, Fancy kept his focus as he let the energy in his horn die. He stood tall and maintained as solemn and commanding a presence as he could. “I’ve already told my story twice now. I have no intention of repeating it.”

“You don’t have to,” the stranger said. “I’m looking for a few specifics. I don’t have many questions.”

Fancy nodded. “Ask.”

The pegasus observed him, his hard eyes never leaving Fancy’s. “Three questions. First: did it seem to you as though the dragons were seeking anything specific?”

Fancy tilted his head. “You mean were they searching for something?”

“Or somepony.”

Fancy had to admit, that was something that hadn’t been asked by the officers or Celestia. He tried to think on the attack, working to ignore the worst memories. “I… no. They seemed interested in little but wanton destruction and slaughter. It never appeared to me that their aim was anything more than that.”

He shivered as the memory of a street full of dead bodies came to mind.

The stallion set the back of a hoof to his lips as he thought on this. If he had any great revelations, however, he kept them to himself.

“Two: did the dragons say anything to indicate their purpose? A reason for the attack, for example.”

Fancy cringed; those deep, hideous laughs echoed in his ears. “Only taunts.”

As expressionless as ever, the pegasus nodded. “Very well. Three: do you know what killed the ponies on the ships?”

Fancy blinked, not sure what the stranger meant, but then he recalled the bodies he and Fleur had found. He bowed his head with a frown; he’d not thought of that since they’d left. The dragons had been such a huge problem by themselves…

“No, I have no idea what did that. I just know it couldn’t have been the dragons.”

The pegasus stomped his hoof with a snort. “Damn.” He turned for the door.

Fancy raised his head. “Wha… that’s it? You ask the questions and leave?”

“You were one of the only two witnesses,” the pegasus said, bitterness reverberating in his voice. “I was hoping to get much more information than that out of you. Yes, I’m leaving. I have more important things to do than sit around and have tea and crumpets with a pretty rich colt.”

He was out the door before Fancy could respond.

Fancy sat and gaped at the closed door for several seconds. He wasn’t sure what to make of this odd encounter. He would have expected a clandestine interview to be much more than just three questions. Who was that pony, anyway?

Fancy turned to gaze out the window, his eyes on the calm sea. An intense disquiet filled him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed something obvious. Should he be concerned about this? The stallion had been brusque, but he’d not tried to harm Fancy. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps he worked for Celestia… although Fancy highly doubted she would approve of the pony’s methods. Well, at least he’d come to Fancy and not—

He stood up with a jerk, eyes wide; Fleur. She was the only other survivor. Why wouldn’t he go to her?

Fancy didn’t know why the idea scared him, but he wanted to check up on the filly. Maybe he was being silly – after all, the stallion had only asked a few questions – but something about the whole ordeal made him uneasy. He turned and went to the door, telling himself that he would just look outside and see the guards. That would be good enough confirmation she was safe. That might even be why the stranger had come to Fancy; he probably couldn’t get to Fleur.

He opened the door, prepared to speak—

The guards were gone.

It took a moment for Fancy’s mind to process this fact. He stared at the spot that was supposed to hold the left-side guard, now empty. A look down the hall revealed nothing; no guards, no servants, not even his brief visitor.

Fancy knew he was being foalish. Fleur had probably left her room, and the guards would of course have to follow. For her protection. Even so, he crept up to the door and pressed his ear to the solid wood.

Muffled voices reached him. He couldn’t understand what was being said, but he easily recognized Fleur.

He didn’t recognize the male voice.

Pain. Pain and soreness. These things made up Fleur’s world. She lay on her bed, face buried in her pillow. She kept her forehooves still, resisting the urge to feel at her stinging flanks or rub at the spot between her hindquarters.

That part was especially raw.

She wouldn’t acknowledge it. The bastard had forced tears out of her, but she would not cry now. Even if it was only a small resistance, at least it was something.

Her world was blackness. She stared into it, unable to get his grin out of her eyes or his panting out of her ears. There was a ghostly sensation on her back, reminding her of how he’d pressed her down.

She wanted to scream.

She refused to do that, too.

Slowly, her forelegs aching, Fleur forced herself to a sitting position. She winced at the pain in her withers where she’d bent just a little too much, yet there wasn’t a mark on her. There never was anymore.

Her head rose slowly to the mirror in the corner. She looked a mess, her mane having gone wild and her face set in a long, dismal glower. She still had the streaks on her cheeks. She reached up to brush the moisture away… and froze.

There was a stallion standing right behind her.

Fleur let out a small shout and practically leapt from her bed, but her forelegs gave out and she fell. She jerked to her hooves and turned to back away from the stranger until her hindquarters bumped the stone wall. The contact made her wince and tuck her tail between her legs.

He was a unicorn, above average in height. He had an unusual, mottled brown coat and a black mane, and his rosewood eyes were downcast to the bed. He didn't look directly at her, and he had a certain unpleasantness to his frown that kept Fleur on edge.

“K-keep away from me,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare come any closer.”

His eyes met hers, cold and serious. “Or you’ll what?”

She chewed her lip and her eyes moved to the door. “I’ll… call the guards. My uncle—”

The stallion reached up to tap a black knife hanging by a necklace. It swung in a wide arc... like a pendulum.

“There are no guards tonight.”

Fleur’s eyes widened, her breathing grew heavy. She knew she was in no position to defend herself.

“L-leave me alone. Please, I don’t have anything.”

The stranger grimaced and pressed a hoof to his forehead. “Relax, Miss Purpurnyj, I’m not here to hurt you.” His unpleasant eyes fell on the bed. “Looks like you’ve already had enough of that today.”

She sneered and didn’t move. “How am I to believe you?”

He considered her with a contemplative frown. “Hmm… good question. There’s really no good answer, either.”

He raised his head to lock eyes with her again, though they lost some of their harshness. “Look, you answer my questions, I leave. That’s really all there is to this.”

“Questions?” She tilted her head. “What kind of questions?”

The stranger averted his eyes. “About Sueño.”

Fleur blinked. “The dragon attack? Do you work for Celestia?”

His eyes met hers once more, and this time they were hopeful. “Will you answer my questions, Miss Purpurnyj?”

He wouldn’t say it, but in Fleur’s mind it was as good as a confirmation. Could she trust him? Would he just go running to Sir Deeds? Her eyes drifted to the door, to the window, back to him. This could be an opportunity.

She didn’t dare pass it up.

“Only if you help me.”

His ears perked. He leaned forward with a frown and examined her. “Help you?”

She nodded firmly. “Get me out of here. I don’t care where you take me, as long as I’m not here. You promise to do that and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I can’t make deals, and you’re not my responsibility.”

“Do you want my answers or not?”

“Do you want Equestria to burn?”

Fleur’s heart hit her throat. She stared with wide eyes. “Surely what I have to say isn’t so valuable as to stop the dragons.”

“I don’t know, you won’t tell it to me. But, if you really think what you have to say holds no value…” He turned and trotted for the door.

“Wait!”

He paused, not bothering to look back. Fleur held her hoof out as if to catch him, her mind working frantically. “P-please, at least consider. I’ll answer your questions, just… just think about it. Please, I can’t stay here.”

He turned to her, his expression entirely unreadable. Seconds passed in silence as he studied her. Fleur bowed her head in shame, aware that he had no reason to help her.

“Did you hear or see anything to suggest why the dragons attacked?”

She sighed and turned away, her stomach churning. “No. I… to be honest, I panicked. I wasn’t paying much attention to anything aside from staying alive.”

“Are you sure? They didn’t say anything during the attack? Think hard, Miss Purpurnyj.”

She bowed her head and tried to focus, but the attack was something of a blur. The only thing she readily remembered was being trapped under the wooden beam, the heat at her back so intense she actually thought she was on fire. The screams of those already burning filled her ears as loud as the ones from her nightmares, and she couldn’t resist a shiver.

Yet she also remembered seeing Fancy. His face, desperate and determined at once, his horn glowing like a beacon.

After that? A blur of fleeing and crying and screaming and flames. It wasn’t until they’d reached the tunnel that she was able to readily recall anything, and that was only due to her wonder at the shield Fancy had formed to protect them.

“I…” Fleur shook her head and refused to let her tears emerge. “I’m sorry. I just remember that they laughed.”

She turned to the stallion with a feeling like something had a grip on her chest. “They were slaughtering us, and they were laughing. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that sound.”

His eyes shifted just slightly as he stared for a couple seconds.

“I see. I apologize for having to ask about it.”

She snorted and turned her eyes away. “At least somepony did. First my uncle’s soldiers, and then Celestia. Do they think I can’t handle it? That I’m too young and fragile to cope?”

The stallion blinked. “You mean you wanted to be asked?”

“I wanted to be included,” she snarled. “I’m not some feeble filly. I’ve already been through far more than the average pony goes through in a whole lifetime, and they treat me like a child.”

She stomped her hoof and glared at him. “Give me a chance to fend for myself and I’ll show you all what I can do!”

His eyes widened slightly, but the moment passed quickly and his expression became hard. “There was something else I wanted to know about: the bodies in the ship.”

Fleur growled and turned her head away once more. “So you don’t care, either? Fine; I don’t know anything about the bodies.”

He stepped forward. “Are you sure? You didn’t perhaps see any markings, any indications at all of—”

“No.” She bared her teeth but refused to look his way. “Maybe they died of fear. You probably think that’s a ridiculous notion, considering it came from a feeble filly.”

There was a pause. Fleur let the burning anger fester in her gut for a few seconds, but finally turned to gauge his reaction.

What she saw knocked her anger away: he was staring at her with an expression so dark, so menacing that she felt herself pressing against the wall. His eyes pierced her and made her feel terribly small. Even from across the bed, there was a sensation that he was pressing tight against her.

“Don’t ever make light of fear, Miss Purpurnyj.” His whispering voice clawed at her brain and made her gasp. “I have seen how it affects ponies. It can kill you, just as sure as any dragon.”

She lowered her head, not wanting to look into those eyes any longer than she had to. A tremble coursed through her body as she fought to push down the fear that he had somehow managed to implant in her mind. Ponies had sent her ominous looks before, but never had one managed to push this kind of reaction into her. It wasn’t like what her uncle could do, and it was as confusing as it was terrifying.

“I apologize.” She glanced up to find him turned away with his head low. “That was uncalled for. You’ve been through so much as it is, I don’t need to add to it.”

Fleur bowed her head and said nothing. A long, anxious silence came between them as she slowly beat down her fear.

His question came abruptly: “Tell me, Miss Purpurnyj, do you know how to copy spells?”

She turned to him with a questioning frown. “You mean… to see a spell being cast?” He nodded. “I understand the concept, but never tried it.”

He tapped his horn with a solemn nod. “Try it now.”

She cocked her head and wondered what he was going to do. She didn’t know if this was some trick… but at the same time, she didn’t think she had much to lose. This in mind, Fleur locked her eyes on his horn and concentrated. She tried to focus her magic on it, not attempting to achieve any particular spell.

Seconds passed. “Do you have it?”

She kept her focus as she whispered, “I… I think so.”

He nodded once more. “Watch what the magic does.”

His horn glowed a dark red, and Fleur’s eyes widened at the sight of strange shapes. Circles spun about the horn, lines shifted up and down its length, a pulsing glow started at the tip and gradually descended to the base. It was the workings of magic, that ethereal energy that nopony could see, but every unicorn could feel on their own horn.

Fleur realized he was offering her something, and strained her eyes to take it all in at once. It couldn’t be a simple spell, the motions were far too complex. A bead of sweat slipped down her cheek and she gritted her teeth as she committed every tiny motion to memory.

The magic slowly faded. Fleur blinked and shook her head before giving him a quizzical look. “What was that?”

His expression was as solemn as ever. “I left out one small part, which I think will be obvious to you. This—” he closed his eyes and lit his horn once more, “—is what it does.”

She gasped as he began to sway, like she was looking at him through a veil of water. Slowly he began to fade, and after only a second he'd disappeared. Her eyes went to the floor and slowly rose up to the ceiling, but there was no sign of him.

Her heart began to pound, her lips turned up into a smile. “An invisibility spell?”

She jumped as his head appeared. The neck ended as if it had been neatly cut off.

“A mirage," he said. "Anypony looking at you from beyond it will not see you.” He disappeared behind the unseen veil, then his head and shoulders appeared sideways as if from behind a curtain. “Limited cover, but effective in corners and small spaces.”

Even if it wasn’t an invisibility spell, Fleur could see the incredible potential of the magic. A big smile formed on her lips as she crossed her eyes towards her horn. “W-with this… I can hide. If I use it properly, I might never be touched by my uncle again!”

She looked down and gasped when she saw the unicorn heading for the door. “Wait! Y-you have to show me more.”

“I don’t have time,” he replied, not bothering to look at her. “I’m a busy stallion.”

She took a daring step closer. “Then take me with you.”

“No.”

She fell to her haunches and stared at his back. “But… but why give me this if you don’t want to help me?”

He sighed and shot her an apologetic look. “That’s not my job. Now I have to go.”

“No!” She took another step forward, a sneer on her lips. “Help me! I know you can!”

The stranger shook his head and turned for the door. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Fleur’s mind worked frantically. Her eyes darted about the room for inspiration. How to stop him, how to get the help she needed?

Reacting on gut instinct, she reared her head back and fired a spell. It was a thin beam that cut through the air and hit him right in the back of the head. It was gone as fast as it had come.

The stallion turned on her with a snarl, his horn shining. Then he blinked and touched the back of his head. The glow of his horn faded as he shot her a questioning frown.

“What was that supposed to do?”

Not what he was expecting, that she knew. She pouted and bowed her head, making sure to sag her shoulders and lower her ears to complete the effect.

He sighed. “Not even strong enough to cause pain. I wish I could help you, Miss Purpurnyj, but it’s impossible. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He turned away and, horn glowing, disappeared from sight in a manner not unlike the mirage.

The door opened, and Fancy spilled into the room with a shout that made her jump. He jerked to a sitting position, cheeks red as he quickly brushed back his mane and looked to her with wide eyes.

“Fleur, I am so sorry, but I saw your guards were missing and… and…”

His hasty explanation petered out as he peered around the room, all anxiousness fading. “Who were you talking to?”

Fleur took a moment to compose herself with a hoof to her chest and a deep breath. She eyed Fancy, who scanned the room like a hawk seeking prey. She appreciated him, for without his help she’d have died on that island.

But she couldn’t trust him.

“Nopony. There was nopony here.”

Author's Note

No more beating around the bush about Fleur's situation with her uncle, I suppose. There's a certain commonality regarding Archons, something that makes the suited for their tasks. Fleur's part in this story simply highlights this point, and her situation with her uncle is at the core of it.

Hoofknife frustrates me. Really. There are certain things I want to do with him, but I am determined to only show this story from three perspectives: Fine, Fancy and Fleur. So when I do what I'm intending with Hoofknife, I anticipate a lot of people scratching their heads and going "Are we supposed to care?" It won't be till the very end, unfortunately, so I can't say anything else for risk of spoilers.

I've always had this feeling that Fancy is a die-hard Celestia loyalist. His manner around her is meant to reflect this, although I know more than one person is going to see this meeting between them and start shouting "OTP!" No, people. Not going there.

At least, not for this fic.

Departures and Arrivals

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter V
Departures and Arrivals

Fine didn’t bother with subtly, kicking the door so that it opened with a bang. He marched into the room, two frothing mugs hovering over his shoulder, and kicked the door closed.

Hoofknife, his muzzle buried in a letter, didn’t even flinch. “Somepony’s in a bad mood.” He had a large pile of scrolls and documents on the table before him, another poofing into existence as he spoke.

Fine set one of the mugs on the table, knocking off a few scrolls as he did. “Got ya this.” He flopped onto a cushion by the window and scowled at the dirty street below.

Hoofknife barely spared time to glance at the mug. “You know I don’t drink on the job.”

Fine only took a swig of his beer.

The Mane Archon took the time to finish reading his letter and scribble a quick response. He rolled the parchment up and pushed it down the throat of a nearby bottle, the potion inside rapidly dissolving the paper. That done, he turned to Fine and crossed his hooves.

“I take it you didn’t find anything.”

Fine snorted and stared down at his mug. “We’ve been at this for three bucking days, and not a peep. Nopony here knows a thing about the dragons, not that I wasn’t expecting them to.” He took another drink.

Hoofknife sighed and grabbed his own mug. He took a sip and smiled slightly at the taste. “Even this close to the Badlands, nopony knows much about dragons. They aren’t exactly the most social of races.”

Fine turned back to the window to watch as ponies moved about beneath him. “There’s nothing going on in this town. Best bit of dirt I could conjure up was that some of the authorities have been acting unusual. Probably some sort of political cover-up, pretty sure it’s not related to the dragons.”

Hoofknife raised an eyebrow. “Political cover-up for what?”

Fine shrugged and took another drink. “The harbormaster’s wife disappeared about a month ago. Rumor has it she left him for having an affair, but there are other stories roaming about. Darker ones. Could be something sinister there, but again, it almost certainly has nothing to do with the dragons. All the indications tell me it’s just a murder cover-up, which isn’t even in our purview.”

Hoofknife sighed, setting his mug back down. “Sorry, Fine, but it looks like you’re gonna be walking.”

“Guardia del Este.” Fine considered the name, his mug moving in slow circles before his eyes. “About as close to the Badlands as a pony can get without actually being there. Doesn’t mean there will be any news. I might have to visit all six of the southern forts.”

“Even then, no guarantees.” Hoofknife scowled and turned back to his scrolls, but he didn’t bother to read them. Another scroll appeared and landed on the table as he thought. “We might not have time for such a slow approach. Who knows when the next attack will come?”

Fine downed the last of his beer in a long chug. He finished with a gasp and pounded the mug to the window’s ledge. “I’m leaving at dusk. Going to every fort and doing a proper sweep would take a month at least. If that’s not quick enough and you want me to jump into the Badlands to look for some dragons to snoop on, let me know.”

Hoofknife nodded. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Fine stood, but lingered by the window. His eyes roamed the streets, his highly analytical mind rapidly determining things. The two stallions on the corner trying to be innocuous as they sold some illegal variety of poison joke extract; the mare walking leg-in-leg with a young stallion and looking so happy, her conservative dress barely hiding the bruise on her throat; the potted plant on the house across the street that wasn’t quite aligned with the others and freshly shifted dirt at its edges, indicating it probably hid an extra key to the building. His eye went to the bank just down the road, rapidly picking apart its information: how many guards, how many windows, any alternative entries?

It was all going on subconsciously, the natural tick-tock of his brain.

It also let him notice the flash of pink out of the corner of his eye, which disappeared just as he turned his head to investigate. That was the second time today. Coincidence? Perhaps. He still peered at the alleyway where he’d seen it, though. He glanced at the mug on the windowsill; it was his third. Maybe he’d had one too many.

Yet the flash of color reminded him of something, a topic he’d been wanting to bring up for a little while. He turned to Hoofknife, who was back to reading his scrolls.

“Did we know about Daring Deeds’ niece?”

Hoofknife didn’t look up. “Know about her in what way?”

“That’s a ‘no,’” Fine grumbled. He grabbed his mug and trudged for the door. “If we did, you’d have read the file before coming here. If Equestria survives this little conflict, we really need to investigate the good Sir Deeds once it’s over.”

Hoofknife eyed him as he passed. “The dragonslayer’s already got a fairly long list of things he’s responsible for. They’re all minor offenses compared to what we usually deal with, though, hence the reason we’ve been leaving him alone.”

Fine paused to study his boss, lips set in a grim frown. He realized that Hoofknife was right; if Sir Deeds was responsible for what he suspected, it still wasn’t something the Archons typically got involved in. That thought was… mystifying.

“You okay?”

Fine flinched out of his reverie. “Yeah… yeah, I’m okay. Just had a weird thought is all.”

He turned back for the door and added with no small amount of cynicism, “I imagine you won’t be seeing me again before I go, so good luck watching after your pretty princess.”

“Fine.”

He paused, ears perked to show he was listening.

“Good luck. Don’t die on me out there.”

Fine felt the first sting of nervousness hit him, the kind that always came before a particularly dangerous mission. Even so, he glanced back and offered a smug smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back to annoy you more. Promise.”

He left, smile rapidly fading. He was already preparing himself for the task ahead.

That started with getting that bucking filly out of his head.

Fancy marched through the castle halls with head high and eyes set forward. He’d been thinking hard for three days, and today he’d finally made his decision. All that was left was to make his intentions known. He’d devoted nearly an hour to standing before a mirror and practicing his best Canterlot manner, willing his anxiety and fears away through the firm, emotionless expression that he’d been forced to master growing up in Canterlot.

He hated the connections ponies made to the elite, but today he’d take advantage of his status. Nothing, not even the dragonslayer, could stop him from doing what he had to. Not a soul in Equestria would distract.

Unless that soul happened to be Princess Celestia, who by sheer luck stepped out of Sir Deeds’ office just as Fancy approached the door. Fancy's heart skipped a beat as those soft, magenta eyes fixed upon him, and the determination he’d been seeking all this time was gone as soon as he’d completed his bow.

“A good evening to you, Fancy.” Celestia’s voice was as kind as always.

Fancy let his bow go for a little longer, if only to give himself a moment to steady his mind, and stood at attention before her. “Princess. A pleasure.”

She nodded with a pleasant smile. “How are you holding up?”

There was no way for Fancy to know whether she was genuinely concerned or merely putting on a show. He wanted to think it was the former, and decided he would settle on that idea – it better-suited his personal image of her.

“I'm fine,” he replied with a smile he hoped was comforting. “I was just about to see Sir Deeds about my next posting.”

Her smile weakened, but only by a fraction. She leaned forward to study him, and Fancy couldn’t help shifting.

“If what you say is true, then I am glad to know it,” she at last said. “Yet I beg of you, Fancy, do not overburden yourself. One does not recover from… certain experiences with just a few days of rest.

"Now speak plainly: are you okay?”

Fancy’s smile faded. He stared into Celestia's eyes and realized that it was a foalish thing to try and slip the truth past a being such as her. He glanced aside, noting the guards on either side of Sir Deeds’ door. He didn’t want to admit to it, but…

Celestia raised a hoof before he could speak, her expression solemn. “Your hesitation speaks volumes.”

With a sigh, Fancy bowed his head. “I apologize for not being straightforward with you, Your Majesty.”

“It’s quite alright, my little pony.” She lowered her head to look him in the eye. “I wish I had more time, but I must set the sun soon. Before I go, I would like to give you a little advice for wherever you go next. If I may?”

He raised his head, one ear perking as he stared at her. “Of… of course.”

She stood tall before him, and for a moment she seemed more… radiant. Her coat shined bright and her eyes, though kind once more, bored into him. Fancy had to wonder if he was being put under some sort of spell… but the thought slipped his mind as her lips parted.

“Every pony in Equestria has a destiny, something they are meant to do. Remember this, Fancy: you survived. That fact is not luck or coincidence. This can only mean that fate has something in mind for you. You have been given a gift, the gift of life. Do not throw that gift away on foalish endeavors. Live, Fancy, and shine as fate intended you to.”

Just as quick as the sensation had come, it was gone, and Celestia was walking past him. “I have royal business to attend to. Can’t keep the moon waiting, now can I? Good evening, Fancy, and good luck… wherever fate sends you.”

Fancy turned to watch her depart down the hall, jaw hanging loose. Her words burned in his mind. He wanted to obey her wishes… but he wasn’t sure how to do so. She wanted him to… live? Did she think he was about to do something dangerous?

Then it dawned upon him that, yes, he was.

A great conundrum arose in Fancy’s mind; should he do what he’d been intending now that Celestia had made this request of him? Was that even accurate, calling it a request? He was going to be headed directly into danger, which was exactly what she’d told him not to do.

Yet to stop now…

He groaned and turned back to the door of the office. He thought on Sparks, who hadn’t even been given a chance to understand what was happening, and Lance, who had sacrificed himself to let Fancy live. If he abandoned his plan now, their deaths would be pointless. Fancy had no intention of dying… but he couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.

So, with a silent apology to the princess, Fancy forced himself back into the demeanor of a proper noblecolt and marched for the door. He knocked, waiting for Sir Deeds’ voice to grant him entry before stepping in.

Sir Deeds’ office was large, but not as large as Fancy had expected. Perhaps he should have known better; castles are practical structures, after all. The walls were lined with shelves and trophies and a suit of armor stood in the corner. Fancy’s eye immediately went to the decorative shield that graced a plaque in the center of the wall, just above the large desk. On that shield was a ring of long, pointed shapes that Fancy quickly recognized as teeth.

Dragon’s teeth.

Suddenly the tales of didn’t sound so tall.

“Can I help you, Fancy?”

Fancy broke out of his reverie with a silent curse. He forced himself back into his elite manner and stepped towards the desk. Sir Deeds sat on a cushion behind the desk, watching him with a concerned but impatient frown, yet Fancy’s eye was instantly pulled away.

There, sitting on a cushion just behind and to Sir Deeds’ left, was Fleur. She wore a light blue dress, ornate and delicate with its abundance of lace and bows. Her head was bowed, but her eyes drifted up to Fancy at the mention of his name. She had makeup and lipstick on, and her mane was set in an ornate braid.

She looked like a doll. A delicate, exquisitely crafted doll, but a doll nonetheless.

Fancy stared at her. He felt like he was seeing something peculiarly wrong. Fleur remained silent, but her violet eyes held him in place. There was something being communicated to him in that invisible contact… but his mind couldn’t fathom the message.

Sir Deeds broke the spell with a chuckle as his hoof reached back to stoke Fleur’s mane and scratch behind her ear.

“Do you see now why I refer to her as my ‘pretty’ little niece?”

Fleur’s eyes widened a touch as they flitted towards her uncle. She bowed her head once more, gaze set on her hooves and ears low.

“Uh…” Fancy tried to recover from the distraction. “I know it’s not my business, sir, but… why is she here?”

Sir Deeds’ smile faded and he cast a lecturing look Fleur’s way. The filly winced and leaned back a little.

“Fleur ran away, First Lieutenant. She can be rebellious at times, you see. So, until I am confident she has learned her lesson and won’t try again, she will be staying where I and ponies I trust can keep an eye on her.”

Fancy kept his expression neutral as he nodded. As… awkward as her presence and demeanor made him feel, he had to acknowledge that the excuse was a good one.

“Come to think of it,” Sir Deeds said with a wry smile, “I never properly thanked you for saving her, did I? Let me take the opportunity now: thank you, First Lieutenant Fancy Pants, for rescuing Fleur from Sueño. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Of course.” Fancy nodded again, his eyes shifting to Fleur as he stood at attention. “I was happy to help.”

Sir Deeds nodded his acceptance before turning to his niece. “Fleur, have you properly thanked the First Lieutenant?”

She shifted, head still bowed as her eyes shifted away from the stallions. Her voice came out with a meekness that was unfamiliar to Fancy’s ears. “No, uncle.”

“For shame!” Sir Deeds gestured to Fancy. “Thank the gentlecolt, like a good filly.”

Fleur hesitated, her eyes drifting up to Fancy. She didn’t raise her head.

“Th-thank you, sir. Thank you for saving my life.”

Fancy saw the emotion in her eyes. It was something he’d not at all expected, a certain desperation and anxiousness. Maybe even fear. This whole situation felt… wrong, but he wasn’t sure what to do or even think about it. So, feeling not just a little anxious, he merely nodded and said, “You are welcome.”

The filly’s eyes went back to her hooves. She uttered not a sound.

“Well, now.” Sir Deeds turned back to Fancy with polite interest. “That’s out of the way. So, what can I do for you, soldier?”

This was it, what Fancy had been preparing for. He sucked in a deep breath, stood at attention like a good soldier and stared straight ahead.

“Sir, I have a transfer request.”

“So soon?” Sir Deeds considered him curiously. “Going back to Canterlot, are we? I can’t say I blame you.”

It took every ounce of willpower Fancy had not to scowl. “No, sir. I want to be posted at one of the southern defenses.”

The Lord blinked, his lips parting in a subtly surprised expression. It took him a couple seconds to respond.

“You mean… you want to fight the dragons?”

Fancy’s eyes locked with his. “I want to be there when they come.”

Sir Deeds leaned back, his expression becoming deathly serious. He regarded Fancy with a deep frown and tapped his chin.

“Is this about revenge?”

This time Fancy’s veneer cracked, his lips peeling back in a grimace. Still, he held his anger in check. “Permission to speak freely?”

An eyebrow rose, but Sir Deeds gestured his acquiescence.

Fancy leaned forward to level the Lord of Estéril Pezuñas with his harshest expression, intent on making his determination known. “I watched helplessly while my entire garrison was slaughtered. I lost two close friends, one of whom sacrificed his life so that your niece and I might survive. Their deaths are meaningless unless I act.”

Sir Deeds did not appear at all swayed. His eyes narrowed in a peering gaze. “You think your death will give theirs meaning?”

“What I think,” Fancy corrected with force, “is that if I don’t do something with the second chance they’ve given me, I’ll be dishonoring their memories. I refuse to sit on my laurels in Canterlot waiting for the dragons to come. Whether I’m effective or not isn’t as important as trying to be so.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Fancy thrust a hoof towards the window. “And why is my life any more important than any of theirs? You’re going to be sending soldiers south now, aren’t you? I’ve made a solemn promise to Long Lance and Blistering Sparks, a promise to make my life have meaning. I can’t do that in Canterlot.

“Besides,” he added in afterthought, his tone calming now that he’d gotten the words out, “I have no intention of dying. Lance promised to make my afterlife rather miserable if I did.”

He nodded to Fleur, who was staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. “She can attest to that.”

Fleur winced as Sir Deeds’ turned to her. Her wide eyes darted between the two stallions for a few seconds. “Um… he did say that, actually…”

Sir Deeds turned back to Fancy, his expression grim but thoughtful. Fancy merely stood at attention, having said his mind at last. Seconds passed as the Lord considered him, hoof tapping the desk.

“I gotta admit,” he said at last, “that’s as good a reason as any. Yet the decision's not so easy as you might think.”

He reached into a drawer and tossed a letter onto the desk. Fancy blinked and eyed it… and was barely able to suppress a groan. The letter was decorated with an emblem: a trio of blue roses set within a golden crown.

It was his family crest.

“Your father sent me that,” Sir Deeds explained. “He was insistent that you be put on the first boat back north and brought straight to Canterlot. Your mother added a little something, too, a personal plea.”

Fancy brought a hoof up to press against his forehead with a long sigh. “I… I see.”

Sir Deeds leaned against the desk, his expression unreadable. “I could just order you to go home, like they are demanding. After all, Bright Plume is an extremely influential member of the Canterlot elite, and it wouldn’t do to fall on his bad side.”

The hoof lowered as Fancy stared at the letter. He could see all his hopes and intentions drifting away. Why didn’t his father understand what he was trying to achieve? That letter was a death sentence to Fancy’s future, and he knew it. Oh, not the future of a wealthy elite, not at all… but there would be no self respect.

He looked to Fleur, who stared at the letter with a sad gaze. She caught him looking, but her frown didn’t fade. Seeing her, he felt… guilty. He wondered if it was her regret or his own that bothered him more.

He turned his attention back to Sir Deeds.

“Sir… I left Canterlot and joined the army because I wanted to make a difference. I was surrounded by self-assured ponies who insisted they were the crème of the crop, yet I knew that not a single one of them did anything to earn their social status. I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to just be there, I want to belong there, to earn the right to be proud.”

He pressed his hoof to the letter. “My father never earned anything on his own. I will not be like him. My friends, my companions are dead. Let me do something in their names, please. Don’t force me to be like my father.”

Sir Deeds eyed the letter beneath his hoof. “And should you die, First Lieutenant?”

Fancy stood tall. “I already told you, I have no intention of dying. Just being useful.”

There was a long silence as Sir Deeds studied him, his face betraying no emotion. He tapped his hoof on the table, then glanced at Fleur – who promptly lowered her eyes back to her hooves.

Seconds passed.

The Lord sighed and turned to Fancy. “You don’t make it easy, you know that? Alright, Fancy, you get your wish, but on one condition.”

Fancy stood at attention. “Sir.”

Sir Deeds leaned forward and picked up the letter, raising it high. “You are going to answer this letter. You’re going to write to your parents explaining why their son’s not coming home, because I won’t do it.”

The First Lieutenant cringed; the tactic was obvious and clever. That was not a letter he looked forward to writing… but it was one that he probably should have written a long time ago.

“The Third Battalion is marching to Guardia del Este as we speak, and will pass by Estéril Pezuñas in two days. Have the letter written and delivered to me by that morning, and you’ll join them on their way to the fort.”

Fancy blinked. “A whole battalion? What about the other forts?”

Sir Deeds cringed, his shoulders sagging. “Equestria only has eight of battalions. Eight thousand troops against Celestia knows how many dragons.”

He leaned against his desk with a sigh and shook his head. “Celestia’s ordered one battalion to each of the southern forts. That just leaves two thousand soldiers moving to protect Canterlot.”

A bead of sweat formed on Fancy’s brow. “I see… Is she going to form more? Build up the army?”

“It won’t matter,” Sir Deeds grumbled. “She can do it, yes, but even if the entire country mobilizes, we’re all doomed if the dragons attack en masse. Our only hope is to—”

The door slammed open, a pair of royal guards rushing into the room. “Sir, a dragon’s approaching the city!”

Sir Deeds was on his hooves in an instant, his eyes wide. “Coming from the south? How long do we have?”

“Southeast,” one of the golden-armored guards corrected. “It’ll be on us by the time you get outside.”

“Son of a—all soldiers to their posts!”

“Sir!” The first guard turned and fled the room.

Sir Deeds rounded the desk. He pointed a hoof towards Fleur, whose face had gone an extra shade of white.

“Fleur, go to your room and don’t come out until I get you!”

“Y-yes sir…”

“Come with me, Fancy,” he barked as he galloped past. “If you’re that determined to die, you might as well do it now.”

His attention turned to the guard, who was following close behind. “Does Celestia know?”

“Some Royal Guards went to inform her, yes.”

“Good… at least we have a princess on our side.”

They charged through the halls, making for the nearest exit. Fancy could already hear ponies shouting outside, and his racing heart had nothing to do with the speed of his run. A chill ran down his spine; how long before those shouts of alarm turned into shrieks of agony?

Yet even though his mind was clutched by terror, he wouldn’t let himself back down. He would face the beast and the carnage it was about to wreak, and pray to Celestia that he'd not go the way of Sparks or Lance or any of the other poor souls he’d watched burn.

He anticipated coming upon a scene of carnage.

Yet when he burst out the door and into the night, he found no flames. The world was dark and the air was cool. The wall he stood on wasn’t covered in bodies or battered down. Everything seemed normal, except that the guards were all pointing up, their spears and other weapons brandished at the dark sky.

Fancy came to a slow stop next to Sir Deeds, the two stallions casting their eyes around for any sign of the aggressor. Seeing nothing, they turned their eyes to the stars.

There, circling high above the castle, was the great beast. Its silver scales seemed to shimmer in the darkness, its massive wings reminding Fancy of a great white bat. It held something close to its muscular chest with both claws and it seemed to be scanning the castle.

Although his immediate fear dissipated, Fancy couldn’t ignore the intense churning in his stomach. He clenched his teeth and breathed through his muzzle in slow, long intakes. Every muscle was tense as the sounds of screams filled his ears. He wanted to bolt, but he kept his legs locked and forced himself to watch. His mind ran through options for self-defense, but they all seemed pathetic in comparison to the creature above them.

“Fancy.”

He jumped and turned. Sir Deeds watched him from the corner of his eye. “Do you recognize it?”

Fancy swallowed and looked back up to the dragon, which continued its steady circling. “N-no… No. That one wasn’t at Sueño. It’s not the right color, and it’s smaller than they were.”

One of the soldiers nearby whispered, “Why isn’t it attacking?”

“Maybe it’s sizing us up,” another said.

There was a flash of light so blinding that Fancy had to shield his eyes against the glare. He turned as the light faded to spot Princess Celestia standing just outside the main courtyard gate and gazing up at the dragon. The beast circled twice before she opened her mouth to speak, and though she didn’t shout her words resounded in Fancy’s mind.

“Lower your weapons, all of you, and make room. Allow her to land in the courtyard.”

Gasps passed around the castle, but the soldiers did as instructed. The large group in the courtyard rapidly spread out to line themselves along the walls. Soon after, the dragon made a sharp turn and lowered itself to the earth. Its hind legs touched down gently and it sat tall over the castle walls. Fancy and Sir Deeds both craned their necks to see up to the dragon’s long, narrow face.

The dragon bowed its head to Celestia. Despite her size and the fact that her voice carried throughout the castle, her tone was soft.

“Greetings Celestia, Princess of Equestria. I am Sihalay, Jewel of the Burning Lands, Mate of First Fang Blazen.”

Fancy’s eyebrows rose at that title. Was this the queen of the dragons? Though his heart pounded in his chest and his legs itched to run away, he found himself intensely curious.

Celestia bowed to the dragon, albeit briefly. “Good evening, Sihalay. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Your mate spoke highly of you in our few meetings.”

The dragon set a claw over her heart, a small smile coming to her scaled lips. “It pleases me to hear you say this—” her smile faded, “—but I am afraid I have no time to speak outside of my purpose for being here. Before we begin, I believe this little one needs attention.”

Sihalay opened her claw and lowered it to the ground. In her palm lay a pegasus bearing the light armor of a scout, his wing clearly broken. Murmurs arose throughout the castle, and Fancy was sure he heard one of the nearby guards curse Sihalay. His own anger with the beasts made him think on it… but Fancy wasn’t so overcome with emotion that he couldn’t wait to hear the excuse.

The scout climbed out of the dragon’s claw on shaky hooves and managed to salute to the princess. “I… I’m sorry, your Majesty. I was careless and crashed over the Badlands.”

Sihalay nodded, her expression grim. “He is fortunate that I was flying to the island and found him. He delivered to me your message, and I chose to immediately come to the castle.”

Fancy’s ears perked; she had been flying to Sueño. Now his curiosity far outweighed his fear. He realized that no ponies would burn today. He set a hoof to his chest and permitted himself to calm down… though he noticed that his fellow soldiers weren’t so ready to accept the situation. Sir Deeds appeared as though he would order an attack at any second.

Celestia gazed upon the scout. “What is your name?”

The scout stiffened. “Colibri Cantante.”

The princess nodded. “Well done, Colibri Cantante. You have my thanks for delivering the message successfully. Please, go inside and relax. Somepony will see to your wing shortly.”

The scout's shoulders sagged. “Yes, your majesty. Thank you.” He hobbled past her, heading for the door.

Before he’d gone inside, Sihalay reared back and spread her claws in a submissive gesture. “Princess Celestia, it was my intention to visit the island. My clan is aware of the recent attack and have chosen to investigate. I wish to provide my personal assurance that First Fang Blazen did not authorize the attack, or was even aware.”

There was no visible change in Celestia’s demeanor, so Fancy had to simply imagine that her relief matched his own. There was still some grumblings of doubt among the guards, however.

“Thank you for bringing me this assurance, Sihalay,” Celestia replied, ever expressionless. “You can imagine that this threat is of grave concern to Equestria, so I must ask you: have you any indication of who has committed this action against my ponies, or why?”

Sihalay shook her head in a slow motion, a stern frown on her lips. “Not yet, Princess, but I assure you we will find out.”

The princess nodded once more. “I trust First Fang Blazen, and so I shall trust his mate. We may discuss the situation here and now, and should you like I can personally bring you to the island of Sueño.”

Sihalay considered her, then her eyes roamed the castle walls. Fancy sucked in a gasp when those yellow eyes passed over him. Her gaze rose to the stars and she scratched her long, narrow chin with a single great talon.

“I am aware of the peculiar habits of ponies, Princess.” Sihalay at last looked down at Celestia once more. “Unlike my kind, you must sleep daily. If it pleases you, we may begin a proper discussion of the situation in the morning. I shall let you and your ponies sleep while I examine the island overnight.

"And,” she added with a dismissive wave at the walls, “perhaps we can meet in a location where your soldiers might feel… how can I put this delicately? Unintimidated.”

More growls from the guards, but Fancy saw her point. He had to acknowledge that he was intimidated. Besides, if one of them decided to cast a spell or some other ridiculous action, he knew things could get very ugly very quickly.

Celestia was apparently aware of this, as well. “Your consideration is appreciated, Sihalay. I find that an agreeable course of action. We can meet on the southern shores just outside the city, if you would be willing.”

Sihalay bowed her massive head once more. “I would. Shall we reconvene at dawn?”

Celestia bowed in kind. “At dawn, then. And Sihalay, please be mindful on the island. There are ponies there at the present time performing their own investigation. They may react… rashly upon seeing you.”

Sihalay rested her claw over her heart. “I promise to be cautious. No ponies will come to harm, this I assure you. Until tomorrow, Celestia.”

Her wings spread wide, stretched out above the courtyard walls, and she launched into the night sky. The ponies watched her fly east, her massive body blotting out the stars.

Fancy relaxed as the tension slowly ebbed from his muscles. “Well… that went better than I anticipated.”

“Assuming it is not a trick of some sort,” Sir Deeds grumbled, his eyes piercing as they scanned the sky. “I don’t trust her.”

Fancy didn’t blame him, but he was still grateful. “Thus far she’s the only dragon I’ve come across who didn’t try to kill everypony. I think that alone warrants our attention.”

Sir Deeds shot him a withering scowl. “You handled yourself well, for somepony who went through Tartarus on that island. Even so, you should—”

“Sir Deeds.” Celestia’s voice echoed in their ears. “I would speak to you immediately about the arrangements for tomorrow’s meeting.”

The lord’s face grew even harder, if such a thing were possible. He began to turn away, but paused. “Remember, First Lieutenant: I want that letter on my desk by dawn the day after tomorrow, or you’re going back to Canterlot. Am I clear?”

Fancy stiffened and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

He waited until the pony had moved inside before relaxing, his eyes once more roaming the night sky. He sought out the dark blot that indicated the dragon, but it seemed she’d already traveled beyond his vision. Wondering on Sir Deeds’ words, he turned and made his way inside.

Fancy had expected to be furious with the next dragon he saw, or to be hateful. There was a distinct anger in him, true… but he realized it wasn’t aimed at Sihalay. He had been so prepared to hate the race as a whole… but that kind of emotion just couldn’t form in his mind. After all, they were individuals, weren’t they? They could have disagreements, see things in different ways. Equestria had its criminals, why couldn’t the dragons?

He realized that he actually felt more relieved than anything else. If what Sihalay said was true – and he could think of no practical reason to doubt her – then that meant they weren’t going to war. Equestria wasn’t as doomed as it had at first seemed. That was cause for celebration, wasn’t it?

Yet he still had that anger. He closed his eyes and saw Lance crushed beneath the rock. It wasn’t so hideous as his dreams of seeing Sparks consumed in flames, but it made his blood boil regardless. Even if the dragons as a whole weren’t evil, there were still three of them who deserved to answer for their crimes. Fancy understood that he wouldn’t be satisfied until that happened.

He marched towards his room, set on his goals. He would write that letter to his parents – to his father – and go to Guardia del Este. Maybe he wouldn’t see one of the dragons that attacked the island, but at the very least he would feel like he was doing something.

Yet as he approached his door, he found himself hesitating. Thoughts of defying his father came easily – he was always butting heads with the old stallion. Yet when he envisioned his mother’s terrified face upon reading the letter…

That made things a little more difficult.

He paused outside his door and glanced towards Fleur’s. There was only one guard at her door right now, and she looked at Fancy with an uncertain frown.

“What’s going on out there?”

Fancy took a moment to steady his voice. “The queen of the dragons just paid us a visit.”

She chewed her lip, eyes darting down the hall as if she expected it to erupt in flames at any second. “W-what did she say?”

“That we’re not going to war,” he told her, trying to keep his tone as soothing as possible. “Looks like the island was a rogue operation.”

The guard sagged with a long sigh. “Thank Goddess…”

Fancy glanced at the door behind her, his thoughts abruptly going to Fleur. He remembered her face right before they’d fled the office of Sir Deeds. He used to wonder what ponies meant when they said they were so afraid as to be petrified. Now he knew, and he wondered how the poor filly was holding up.

He turned to address the guard directly. “Could I check on Miss Purpurnyj? I would like to reassure her.”

The guard cocked her head. “Well, sure. If you can find her.”

Fancy blinked. “What do you mean, 'find her?'”

“She’s not here. Hasn’t been all day.”

His jaw dropped. He distinctly recalled Sir Deeds telling Fleur to return to her room. If she did what she was told…

Fancy let out a groan and turned back down the hall to run at a full gallop. He only hoped his suspicion wasn’t correct.

Fleur was many things. Dumb wasn’t one of them; she knew a perfect opportunity when it flew in on silver wings.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon and her quarry was settling down. He busied himself setting up a tent a few hundred feet from the road. The grass grew sparse here and the trees were small and sickly, but they provided enough shelter that there was no chance of him being spotted by the casual passer-by. Fleur was very curious about why he was only traveling at night, but she wasn’t about to complain.

She settled in the brown grass behind some bushes and held a hoof to her lips to stifle a yawn. She’d galloped for nearly two miles just trying to catch up with him, and he’d set a brisk pace throughout the night. Some sleep would do her good right about now.

Food would be nice, too. She reached into her saddlebags and pulled out one of the bread loaves she’d stolen from the castle kitchens. It was hard and lacked flavor, but she’d had worse. Fleur learned long ago not to complain about the quality of the food available; it was always better than no food at all.

She didn’t eat much, only a few bites. She had no idea how far the stallion would be going, or when she’d be able to get more food.

As she put the bread away and rested her head on her forelegs, she quietly wondered about him. She still didn’t know his name or what he was up to. All she knew was that he was going south, towards the Badlands. The thought was terrifying; she had to acknowledge that her flight from Estéril Pezuñas had at least a little to do with her fear of its scaled visitor.

Yet despite her very real fear of the dragons, Fleur knew she couldn’t lose the stallion. She would follow him as far as she had to. He knew magic that could help her defend herself, and if he wouldn’t teach her then she’d learn by observation. It was a much better plan than wandering around on her own and defenseless again. If only he wasn’t heading south…

A shadow passed over her. Fleur raised her head from the dirt and gazed through the thin limbs… and gasped when she saw black wings. A dragon was overhead, circling in a wide arc. She could have sworn her heart had frozen at the sight of the monster.

Black scales.

Her eyes fought frantically to look upon the face of the thing through the limbs, but it was difficult. At last she caught the curve of the snout, the piercing blue eyes… There was not a doubt in her terrified mind that it was the same black beast that had taken part in the Slaughter of Sueño.

Fleur’s breath came out in shaky gasps as she turned to follow the beasts motions. She crouched low and began to creep backwards, her lips working in silent prayer. If it saw her, if it recognized her… by Celestia’s multi-hued mane, the thought was too terrible to contemplate!

A breathtaking bellow shook the trees and made Fleur jump. She turned her head and let out a frail whimper at the sight of two more dragons – one green and one red. The red one was big… huge, and very familiar. They flew directly for the black dragon, which continued to circle. The red demon soared over Fleur, carrying something large in its claws. The black dragon roared and fell alongside the green dragon, and all three were soon speeding off to the north.

Fleur continued to creep back, unable to think of anything save staying hidden. What if they doubled back? What if they were just pretending not to have noticed her? What if—

She bumped something and her mind froze. Her entire body went perfectly still as the dragons, disappearing in the distance, rapidly faded from her mind.

Slowly, she turned her head back over her shoulder. Her rump was pressed against the forelegs of the mottled brown stallion, who gazed down at her with wide, rosewood eyes.

They stared at one another for several seconds, not a sound passing between them.

At last Fleur blushed and cracked a weak smile.

“Um… hi?”

The stallion let out a long, low groan and covered his face in his hooves.

Author's Note

Octavia is Best Background Pony, but as my headcanon for Fleur continues to develop and improve she's definitely falling into the second place slot.

I considered giving the dragons names that had some kind of underlying meaning... but then I decided not to bother. I do this so frequently, but is it absolutely necessary? No. Reddux's name never had any special significance, I just grabbed it out of my head (ow). So I did the same with Sihalay, and will almost certainly do so with Reddux's two companions.

Things will pick up a little with the next chapter.

Eclipse

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter VI
Eclipse

“I’m not going back!”

Fine growled as he crawled into his tent, making his way to the saddle in the corner. “Yes, you are.”

“I refuse!” Fleur glared at him through the tent flap. “You have to take me with you.”

“No.” He pushed back out and hovered some bread before her face. “Take this, should last you ‘till you get back to the city. Now git.”

She snarled and hit the loaf with her forehoof, sending it flying into his face. “I brought my own food. And I’m not going back.”

He grabbed the bread in one hoof and glared at her. “I’m not taking a kid with me. I don’t even like kids. Go home.”

She bared her teeth. “I can’t go home!”

He pointed north without a word.

“That’s not my home,” she snapped. “I will never return to my uncle. I would rather die.”

“Come with me and you will.” Fine turned back to the tent. He took a bite out of the bread as he went inside to replace it in his saddle.

“That’s better than the alternative,” she told him. “You can ignore me, but I’ll keep following you.”

“Why?” He pushed his head out of the tent to glower. “What possible reason could you have to follow me? You have no idea who I am!”

“Maybe not,” Fleur replied, pointing a hoof at him, “but you have what I need. You taught me that mirage spell. You can teach me more.”

“Not a chance.” He sat just outside the tent and rubbed his forehead in both hooves. “I don’t take on apprentices.”

“It’s either you teach me, or I watch you.” Fleur stuck her muzzle in the air. “One way or another, I’m learning more. Spells like that are my key to independence.”

He threw up his hooves. “And you’ll die trying to learn them!”

Fine heaved a deep sigh and bowed his head. Of all the things he could have to deal with, foals was not one he was prepared for. “Listen, little miss, here are some facts. First thing, nopony is supposed to know I exist, much less where I am. I—”

He paused, raising his head to study her.

“Come to think of it… how did you even find me?”

She kept her eyes hard. “Remember that spell I hit you with before you left?” He nodded. “It was a tracking spell.”

He sat up straight, his eyes going wide. “Tracking spell? You mean… when you were trying to hurt me, you were really… you tricked me?”

She smirked. “Not so incapable, huh?”

“And this spell let you follow me all the way out here?” He studied her smirking face, trying to find some indication that she was lying. He saw none.

“Huh.” He lowered his head and rubbed his chin. “That’s… impressive, actually.”

Her ears perked. “So does that mean—”

“Don’t—” he raised his hoof just before her muzzle, “—jump to conclusions. Second point: I need to move quickly and quietly. I have a lot of work to do and time is not on my side. I can’t waste time foalsitting you.”

She sneered at his hoof, pushing it down so she could set her demanding eyes on him once more. “Perhaps I could actually help you. You think of that?”

Fine rolled his eyes. “You’re fourteen, and that’s not my call regardless. You’re just a kid! Third point: what I’m doing is dangerous. I don’t mean ‘playing on wet rocks’ dangerous, I mean ‘big, mean, fire-breathing lizards actively trying to kill you’ dangerous, or ‘getting chased by angry ponies with sharp, pointy objects’ dangerous. It’s not safe for fillies.”

She moved forward, pressing her muzzle against his. “Safe? You want to talk to me about safe?”

She pulled back, a fire in her eyes and her breath coming in sharp intakes. It had to be the single most menacing expression Fine had ever seen in a child.

“Let me tell you what this kid has gone through in her short, unimportant little life,” she growled. “When I was four, I watched my mom freeze to death in the harshest winter the Griffa plains has known in centuries. When I was six, my father fell overboard in a storm on the way to Equestria. Then I get to meet my ‘hero’ uncle in Estéril Pezuñas.”

She shivered, abruptly wrapping her hooves about herself. She never lost that fierce expression, though. “I spent the next seven years dreading the night, never knowing when he’d come by to visit, to put his filthy hooves on me. I was his ‘pretty little niece’ for far too long! Do you know what it’s like being used as a doll and passed around like a party favor?

“But oh, no,” she stomped and leaned towards Fine. “That’s not all! I finally get away. I spent a year on my own, always dirty, always hungry, doing odd jobs for scraps. I couldn’t count how many nights I had to survive by digging through garbage. I made it to Sueño on my own, thinking maybe the sea would be enough of a barrier to protect me.

“And then what? Dragons!”

Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she threw her hooves high with a shout. “I watched an entire town burn! I remember being trapped under a beam, screaming for mercy and knowing I was just seconds away from roasting alive! I saw hundreds of ponies floating in the ocean, a sea of corpses.”

She moved forward, once again pressing her muzzle to his. She was screaming now. “This kid has seen more crap in her fourteen years than most ponies see in their entire lives! Don’t tell me that I don’t know what I’m getting into, because it can’t be worse than what I’ve already seen!”

Fine stared, eyes wide and mind numb. He worked his lips, but no sound came out.

Slowly, Fleur retreated. The fury in her eyes faded, her lip began to tremble. She turned her back to him, entire body slumping as she wept. “Then I… I had to go back. B-back to that horrible castle, back to being a b-bucking doll. After all I went through, what d-did he do? Just put his hooves on me again.”

Her hooves reached between her hips and she sobbed. “I have as many n-nightmares about him being inside me as I do about the d-dragons. Please, please, don’t send me back. I’m tired of being a feeble filly. Teach me how to protect myself. Please…”

Fine watched her, observed how she trembled. His thoughts went to the things he’d seen by the time he was her age… and he realized they didn’t compare. They didn’t even come close. He turned away, gritted his teeth and tried to block out her weeping.

He was an Archon. He had a job to do, and it didn’t involve her. He couldn’t look after her, he probably couldn’t do his job with her around, and he certainly shouldn’t let her get involved in what he was doing. The correct action was to leave her alone and let her try to make it on her own. He shouldn’t help her and he knew it.

Any yet… for all his internal arguments…

He pressed his face against his hooves and gritted his teeth. Hoofknife wouldn’t approve. Fine shouldn’t care this much. He was supposed to be disengaged. The fate of one filly, no matter how tragic, was not as important as the fate of a mission that could save millions of lives! He knew the logic, he’d used it for justification a half-dozen times already in his career. It was the right thing to do!

Fine leaned back and stared up at the sky, listening as her sobs began to come under control. He envisioned an old friend, an ancient mare who, for once, decided to be kind. He lifted the knife that hung from his chest, slowly turning the black blade before his eyes. He studied its smooth shape, recalling how it used to adorn her neck like a trophy.

“Dammit, Sugarcube,” he whispered, “the one time you set a good example. Am I turning soft like you did?”

Fleur’s crying had stopped, though she was still sniffling. “Well,” she muttered, “I guess I’m too young and dumb to stick with you, huh?”

Fine groaned, letting the knife drop back to his chest. “Alright.”

He could almost hear her tense up. “What?”

“You can come,” he grumbled, turning to her. “I’ll try to put up with you and maybe teach you a spell or two, but when I tell you it’s over and you have to stay behind, you will do it, do I make myself clear?”

She turned to look at him with one eye, her face covered in tears and her voice unsteady. “You… y-you mean it? You won’t try to… to leave me behind while I’m sleeping or anything like that?”

“Doubt it would do me any good to try, thanks to that damn spell you put on me.” He stomped to the side of the tent and settled himself down in the brown grass. “Look, I’ve been out and about ever since yesterday morning. I need to sleep. Just… just shut up and let me rest, and tonight when we start moving again we can talk specifics, alright?”

She turned to him, rubbing her cheeks. “You’re sleeping out here?”

He growled and rested his head on his cannons. “Only room in the tent for one. Just get in there.”

Fleur stared at him, shuffling from hoof to hoof. “I… I thought…” She winced at his glare. “O-okay. Um… thank you, mister.”

“Fine Crime,” he muttered, turning his face away. “Call me Fi—”

He covered his eyes; a flash of light erupted through the sky, so bright it blinded.

It came from the north.

Fancy stood at the back of the mass of ponies. Statesponies, officers, guards, diplomats, all present to provide a sense of formality to the discussion currently ongoing between Celestia and Sihalay. The dragon was lying on the beach, but even in a state of repose she towered over the ponies. They’d been discussing the situation for over an hour now, Celestia sitting before Sihalay and looking so incredibly tiny in comparison.

Fancy’s presence had been mandatory, just in case Sihalay desired to speak to the only – well, only present – survivor of the Slaughter of Sueño. Thus far he’d not been mentioned, but he suspected it was only a matter of time. Though the thought made him shudder, he steeled himself for the coming meeting. As far as he could tell, the queen of the dragons was trying to help, and he wasn’t about to back down from her questions.

He just wished they’d call on him already.

“How are you holding up, First Lieutenant?”

Fancy jumped at the familiar voice, barely able to contain his shout. He turned to find Captain Oak Feathers standing beside him with a concerned frown. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get the jump on you.”

“That’s quite alright.” He took a moment to recover his breathing. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Isn’t the 42nd supposed to be headed for Guardia del Este?”

She nodded. “We’re waiting for the Third Battalion to arrive tomorrow. We’ll travel with them, act as their scouts in case a dragon decides to approach them on the move.”

“I see.” He turned his attention back to Sihalay, who had a claw over her lips as she listened intently to Celestia. He couldn’t hear what was being said. “Maybe these troop movements won’t be needed in the end.”

Oak cast a dubious look his way. “Do you want peace, or a fight?”

“All I want,” he muttered with a scowl at the ground, “is justice.”

“Hmm…” Oak turned to watch the proceedings in silence.

Fancy cast a brief glance her way. “So… any luck finding Miss Purpurnyj?”

She shook her head. “Most of my scouts have returned. She’s gone.”

“I can’t believe she ran away again.” Fancy thought on everything he’d seen, the little hints that disturbed him for reasons he couldn’t fathom. “Y’know, sometimes I think about it and wonder if it’s not better this way.”

“How do you mean?” Oak asked, not averting her eyes from Sihalay.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… I got the impression she wasn’t happy with her uncle.”

“The thought had crossed my mind.” The captain observed him with a critical eye. “You’re not feeling responsible, are you?”

He was. Fancy knew he probably shouldn’t think of himself as responsible for Fleur, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have read whatever signs she’d been sending him. “We both made it out of hell. Us survivors have to stand by one another.”

Oak raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you say so.”

“Fancy.” They turned to find Sir Deeds pushing his way through the crowd. “There you are. Celestia just gave me the signal. You’re about to be introduced.”

Fancy cringed as a sinking feeling invaded his gut. “V-very well.” He silently cursed himself for the stutter.

Sir Deeds paused before him with a somber frown. “Hey, don’t worry. This one’s not out to eat us… yet.”

The First Lieutenant barely contained his whimper.

Oak used a wing to pat him on the shoulder before telling Sir Deeds, “You, sir, are a master of reassurance.”

The Lord of Estéril Pezuñas raised an eyebrow, his face going hard. Oak returned the expression with a lecturing frown.

The tense moment came to an end when a great call erupted through the sky. The ponies looked around, ears perked for the source of the roar. Fancy noted Sihalay, who reared back with a deep frown and turned her head south. Ponies scattered, and Fancy found himself being shoved back by Oak before he could see what was happening.

Something landed on the beach nearby, something huge and red. Fancy knew it had to be a dragon, but in the confusion Oak and Sir Deeds had fallen on top of him so he couldn’t get a good look. As the three worked to disentangle themselves, Sihalay’s voice rang out.

“What is the meaning of this interruption? This had best be important.”

“Forgive me, Mate of the First Fang, but I come with ill tidings.”

That second voice was loud, powerful and… familiar. The memories of mocking laughter echoed in Fancy’s mind and his blood turned to ice. He pushed Oak off and raised his head, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of a massive red body.

The dragon loomed over the beach, over twice the size of Sihalay. Overhead flew his two villainous companions, the black and green dragons, circling the meeting site like vultures.

Oh yes, there was no mistaking them.

The red dragon was holding something large in his claws. With head bowed, he leaned forward and offered it to Sihalay.

Fancy wanted to shout out, to provide some kind of alarm, but the combination of his lost breath and Sir Deeds still in the process of getting off his stomach foiled his efforts. His mouth opened, but only a hoarse wind escaped it.

A choked cry came from Sihalay. Her claws shook as she reached forward to take the object.

It was the head of an orange dragon.

“No.” She stared down at it, tears welling in her eyes. “No… Blazen…”

At last Fancy was free. He sucked in a deep breath, grateful for the air in his lungs.

Sihalay’s eyes went dark. She began to look up. “Who is responsible for—”

The crunch filled the air like a thunderclap. For an instant eternity, the world went silent. Sihalay remained perfectly still, eyes bulging and jaw loose.

The red dragon’s fangs were clamped around her throat.

The world erupted in chaos. Sihalay began thrashing as the red dragon pushed her back towards the sea. Ponies scattered like ants and the two dragons in the sky roared their approval.

Fancy’s pushed himself to his hooves, his heart hammering in his chest and entire body trembling. He looked out to the waterline and watched as Sihalay clawed at her attacker with weak limbs, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled for air.

Then came another thunderclap in the form of a snap, and her body fell limp.

Amidst the fleeing and panicking ponies, Fancy watched the scene. Thus was he one of the few to see Celestia rising from the masses, her wings opened wide and her eyes glowing with a white fire. Her scream pierced the heavens and brought every pony on the beach to a halt.

“What have you done?”

The dragon bellowed in response, blood flying from his fangs as he grasped the head of Sihalay and began to pull. Scales warped, sinew stretched, and soon her head was ripped from her neck. He grabbed the head of Blazen, which had fallen nearby, and threw both of them high in the sky. The green and black dragons each caught one.

“Go!” He reared his head back flung his arm to the south. “Spread the word! The clans shall know that the Hoard of Blazen is no more! I am Reddux, and I claim all that was his!”

The two dragons wheeled off and departed for the south, roaring their response.

The explosion of light was so intense, so powerful that even when turning away and covering his eyes Fancy was blinded. Celestia’s voice was no longer the calm, serene tones he’d become accustomed to; it radiated a heat so intense he thought the words alone would scorch his mind. They reverberated in his ears, booming and fierce.

“Treacherous fiend! You will have nothing but sunfire for your betrayal!”

There was a great heat that sizzled the air and a roar. At last Fancy’s eyes had recovered from the momentary flash, and when he looked up he saw Reddux flying high around a beam of violent yellow energy. Celestia was no longer a pristine white princess, but a living inferno, her coat a pulsing white flame and her mane a searing orange.

Fancy could only watch in awe as Reddux opened his great maw to engulf Celestia in flames, but she rose up from them unphased and, opening her lips in a cry that shook her earth, sent a stream of white flame at her foe. Reddux dodged, swooped in and attacked with his claws, but Celestia rolled away and flew past him.

Oak’s voice rang out, infinitesimal compared to the raging duel that filled the air with noise. “Redwings, to me! We must help the princess!”

Sir Deeds thrust his hoof out – it passed over Fancy’s face and blocked his view of the duel. “Belay that! Everypony back to the castle!”

Fancy turned on him. “Sir, we must help!”

“No!” The dragonslayer shook his head with force and gestured back to the castle. “Celestia can’t fight that thing and watch for us. We’ll only get in her way. Back to the castle. That’s an order, Captain!”

Oak trembled, her lips worked and her eyes blazed. Uniformed pegasi were landing all about her, their eyes on the battle even as they awaited her order. She stomped her hoof a few times, her wings opened and closed and her face was locked in a grimace.

With one last, two-hoofed stomp and a shout, she cried, “Everypony to the castle!”

There was a splitting roar, though whether it came from Reddux or Celestia Fancy couldn’t tell. He turned about to see Reddux flying in a sweeping dive over the land, Celestia’s mighty beam following close and blasting a trail of destruction.

Ponies were fleeing, but Fancy couldn’t move. His legs were locked, his body leaning forward as he kept his eyes set on the scene. Though his breathing was shallow and his body trembled, he didn’t even consider following the others.

“Fancy!” Sir Deeds was in his face. “I gave you an order, First Lieutenant!”

Fancy ignore him, craning his neck as he watched Reddux chase Celestia high into the sky. She left behind massive red orbs that erupted in shimmering light as the dragon closed in.

Sir Deeds shook him. “Damn you, Fancy, get your flank moving!”

“I’m staying,” Fancy said, voice just loud enough to be heard over the shouting of the fleeing ponies. “I have to see this.”

“You can see it from the castle.” Sir Deeds tried to drag him. “Come on!”

Fancy shoved him away with a snarl. “I will watch this. I am not going to run away!” He sucked in a gasp as Celestia barely managed to dive beneath Reddux’s swinging, spiked tail.

“It’s a tactical withdrawal, you idiot!” Sir Deeds glared at him before letting out a shout and turning away. “I don’t have time for this. Stay here and burn, if that’s what you want.”

Fancy’s eyebrows rose as Reddux, dodging another of Celestia’s fiery blasts, dove and flew right towards them. He took a few steps back, mind frantic for some kind of response as the beast approached. Sir Deeds saw the dragon coming and promptly bolted, but Fancy didn’t move. Though his chest threatened to burst and he couldn’t breathe, he stood before Reddux and struggled to work his magic.

At last something happened: crystal-like projectiles flew from Fancy’s horn. He gasped as Reddux’s huge, menacing eyes turned on him. The beast’s lips curling up in a smile of wicked amusement.

The magic crystals shattered against his scales as he flew directly over. As far as Fancy could tell, the only one that was able to do anything was the crystal that pierced the leathery fabric of a wing, but it was no consolation.

Reddux’s thick tail whipped down, smashing the sandy beach. Fancy screamed and leapt aside, but was caught in the wave of sand and dirt. He tumbled and lost all sense of orientation as a cacophony of sounds filled his ears.

He ended up on his belly, half-covered in sand and a long trench at his side. He raised his head and wobbled as the world spun… then ducked with his hooves over his head as fireballs the size of a pony rained down indiscriminately all around him! An intense heat seared his coat and he looked up in time to see the blazing Celestia pass over, the fiery projectiles blasting from her horn in rapid succession. A torrent of living flame, she probably hadn’t even noticed him.

Goddess damn him, Fancy felt so useless! He tried to get to his hooves, lost his balance and landed against the pile of sand at his side. Realizing he would be of no help, he merely watched the fight.

Reddux had flown over the city of Estéril Pezuñas, and Celestia’s massive attacks came to a halt. The two circled one another. Though Celestia was too far away for Fancy to see her as anything but a dot, she radiated light like a fiery star. A flash of light indicated a spell being cast, but at this distance he couldn’t tell exactly what it was.

Fancy climbed to his hooves, at last able to keep his balance, and galloped for the town in hopes of a better view.

Reddux swung about and flew for the shimmering light, but a blast of energy struck him and sent him reeling. He clutched at his shoulder and toppled, only to regain flight and go sailing back towards Celestia. Fancy cringed as the beast’s tail dropped into the city, clouds of debris rising where it hit some unfortunate structures.

There was another blinding flash that made Fancy glance away, though he didn’t stop running. When he looked up again a collection of massive, feather-like appendages were rising from behind Celestia. Even from this distance, when he could just barely make out the princess’s shape, the flimsy-looking things were huge and shimmering yellow, splayed out like the tail of a peacock. They swung about, whipping towards Reddux and leaving streaks of light in their wake.

Reddux dodged the first attack, but the second hit him. Though the feathers were still small compared to his mountain of mass, he roared at their touch and was knocked sideways. He spun in midair, incredibly long tail swinging for Celestia, who dropped enough to dodge. The tail swiped through the feathers like butter, their forms fading into a bright mist.

Fancy gasped as her shimmering light wobbled and dropped a short distance. He pressed himself to move faster, ignoring the burning in his chest. He knew he couldn’t help, but he had to at least be there!

Reddux capitalized on Celestia’s moment of recovery, flying in close and reaching his claws for her. Fancy was close enough to see the yellow sphere that encompassed her flaming form, and though Reddux’s claws completely engulfed the light he screamed from what must have been a painful experience. His muscles bulged as he fought to squash Celestia in her shield, his bellow shaking earth beneath Fancy’s hooves. The dragon strained and shrieked, and Fancy could just make out the smoke rising from his claws.

There was another magnificent flash, so incredibly powerful it actually hurt Fancy’s eyes! But he didn’t dare look away, and as he watched Reddux fell back, his arms spreading wide from the force of an explosion that knocked him back and made him howl in pain. The crystal orb had shattered into a thousand pieces, and those pieces now darted at Reddux like tiny blades of pure light.

Though he roared with pain as the thousands of spears of light pierced his body, Reddux recovered and swung a mighty claw. Another shield formed, but shattered upon impact. Celestia cartwheeled through the sky, her mane and tail forming a flaming circle about her tumbling form.

Fancy slid to a halt, eyes wide and his breath coming to an abrupt stop as he watched her fall. He thought he might have screamed.

Yet the fight wasn’t over; Celestia righted herself and fired her massive solar beam, this time landing a hit against Reddux’s side. The dragon howled and spun wildly, clutching at the blackened flesh; even his magic-resistant scales couldn’t withstand the full blast of Celestia’s condensed magic.

Yet even as he spun away, his tail whipped up and caught the princess, a direct blow that sent her sailing like a comet. The flaming streak smashed into the keep of Estéril Pezuñas at an incredible speed.

Fancy’s hind legs gave out. He stared, gaping as the ramparts shook and stone collapsed, burying the princess in the rubble. He barely noticed as Reddux crashed into the city below, his vast form crushing buildings and citizens alike.

Worry tore through Fancy’s like an earthquake. As he watched the dust fly from the castle, he saw no shining lights; his princess didn’t erupt from where she’d fallen in a blaze of righteous fury.

Celestia didn’t do… anything.

He slowly turned his head at the sound of Reddux’s bellow. The dragon hovered above the city, a claw at his side but his face spread in a triumphant grin. He spoke, voice reverberating through the sky.

“You are broken, Celestia! You can no longer protect your race, a race that will be cleansed in dragonfire. You will live on to watch as the dragons bathe Equestria in the blood of all ponies, trapped in the feeble confines of your puny body. And then, when you know that all is lost, when the last rays of hope die and you long for the sweet caress of death, you will be made little more than a slave!

“I am Reddux! Remember my name, for it shall be on your lips in worship for the rest of eternity.”

With that the dragon reared back and let out a massive breath that engulfed the city. It went long and hot, the flames spreading like wildfire. When he could breathe no more, the dragon turned about and flew south, his hideous laughter mixing with that which was already in Fancy’s head.

Smoke had blackened the sky by the time Fancy reached the castle. He made straight for the keep, his mind frantic as he thought on the dire possibilities. Ponies were scrambling, confused shouts coming from all around. He overheard some officers trying to gather soldiers to help the burning city. Ponies whispered prayers, others sobbed. Most everypony had somewhere to go.

Fancy drove through them with a purpose, pushing the crowd aside with his superior size and not caring who he offended.

At last he reached the courtyard of the keep, a choked cry rising from his throat at the sight of the crumbled wall. Guards and soldiers were working to pull away the massive stones and debris. There was an intense urgency to their actions, an urgency that filled Fancy in turn. He felt cold, as if the warmth of life had fled him, and he promptly rushed in to help.

“Fancy!” Oak appeared over him, covered in dirt and sweat. “There you are. I thought you might be dead.”

He reared back. “Has there been any sign of her?”

Oak shook her head and dove back for the keep, joining a trio of other pegasi who were trying to use ropes to lift a particularly large piece of debris. With a whimper, Fancy jumped into the mess.

Minutes seemed to pass like hours, or maybe hours were passing like minutes. Fancy had no way of knowing. All he knew was that he had to get to Celestia, had to see for himself that she had survived. He was soon coated in grime and sweating profusely, but he didn’t dare rest. He worked till his legs and back were sore, used his magic until he overdosed and was suffering a migraine. He wouldn’t quit until he saw her beautiful white coat in the sun.

“Over here!”

He jerked about at the voice. One of Celestia’s guards waved and ponies were crowding around him. Fancy rushed forward, shoving his way through without apology. When he at last burst into the inner circle, his heart sank.

Celestia lay in a crater, half-buried in debris. Her pearly coat was matted with dirt, her glorious mane had faded to a dim pink. Cuts, bruises and burns covered her entire body and two of her legs had been twisted into sickening positions. She was bleeding profusely and one of her wings was smashed beneath a large boulder that three earth ponies were struggling to move.

Fancy stared at her, a high-pitched ringing in his ears and his jaw hanging loose. He watched her chest rise and fall in a slow, shuddering rhythm, gazed upon her face and saw it twisted in pain. The sight produced a horrible aching in his chest that almost brought him to tears. He reached a trembling hoof towards her, worked his lips… but could do nothing.

It was the most terrible feeling in the world.

The boulder was at last rolled off her wing just as Sir Deeds managed to push his way through. He knelt before her, brought his ear close to her lips and spoke in an indecipherable whisper.

Fancy saw her lips move… slowly.

Sir Deeds sat up and took a shaky breath. “O-okay… okay.” He spread his hooves as if to keep the crowd back, his shifting eyes set on her vulnerable form. “Everypony… just… stay back, we need room. She’ll be okay. Where are the bucking medics?”

Fancy dropped to his knees beside the princess, fighting back tears as he watched her breathing. Sir Deeds caught his eye. His eyes were wide and he was taking deep, slow breaths as they stared at one another.

“She’ll be okay,” Sir Deeds whispered, eyes still locked with Fancy’s. “She…. she’ll be okay.”

Fancy wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

Author's Note

I hate that my updates have to slow down now. Nothing short of frustrating!

I want opinions on this duel, folks. Too far, not far enough? I was really raking my brain trying to figure out how to handle it, because in all frankness I have difficulty with the idea of a mere dragon standing up against Celestia (which goes to show the power I tend to think she has). As such, I wanted to make it believable and convince myself. My general outlook on this is that Celestia is OPed in magical offense, but in terms of physical defense she's a pushover, so all Reddux needed was one solid hit.

Critique

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter VII
Critique

“It’s okay,” a voice called from within the room, “he may pass.”

The guard stepped aside and Fancy promptly entered. He was back in Celestia’s temporary chambers, the princess lying in her bed and surrounded by distraught looking ponies. Sir Deeds gestured for him to come closer.

“Sorry about that, First Lieutenant,” he said. “You can’t blame them for being a little jumpy right now.”

Fancy took in Celestia’s broken body. The sight held his chest in an iron grip and he lowered his ears against the sound of her shallow, raspy breathing. “What did the healers say?”

“She’s refused them,” Sir Deeds replied with an unpleasant frown.

“What?” Fancy stared at him. “And they agreed?”

“They… had no choice.”

Fancy turned to find Celestia’s eyes half-opened and set upon him. He promptly stood at attention, the other ponies around the bed doing the same.

Celestia surveyed her surroundings, her mouth open a she sucked down long breaths. She somehow managed to crack a smile. “Please, everypony. Leave me… to my rest. I promise not… not to die anytime soon.”

The ponies all exchanged wary looks, but slowly began to file out.

Celestia managed to barely raise her uninjured leg. “Not you, Sir Deeds. Or you, Fancy.”

The two stallions shared a glance before nodding. They watched her as the others left, but Celestia only closed her eyes and remained silent.

When the door closed, she finally spoke. “I do not have long. An alicorn’s body… heals quickly, but I fear the process… will require much energy. I will sleep soon.”

“Sleep?” Sir Deeds frowned, his eyes going to the window and the smoke still rising from the city. “For how long?”

Celestia emitted a small groan as she shifted to a more comfortable position. “Long. I have not sustained… such injuries in centuries, so I am not sure. A few weeks.” Her eyes turned to the lord. “I apologize Sir Deeds, but you will have… have to lead the defense… without me for a while.”

Sir Deeds’ mouth worked silently for a couple seconds, but at last he nodded. “I understand, Princess.”

Fancy shook his head. “Princess, why not let the healers help you?”

“They are needed in the city,” she replied, her sleepy eyes turning to him. “And the dragons could come at any time. They need to be well rested to… to support everypony. I will heal on my own.”

She smiled at his frown. “Do not fret, Fancy. Alicorn anatomy is such that… that they couldn’t do much for me anyway.”

Sir Deeds leaned towards her, his expression fierce. “I swear to you, Princess, Reddux and his cohorts will pay for your defeat. On my honor as a dragonslayer.”

“Defeat?” Celestia smirked, and the expression made both stallions lean back. “This was not a defeat, Sir Deeds. Oh, no. This was a draw.”

Fancy tilted his head as he glanced upon her battered body. “A draw?”

“Reddux expected an easy victory,” she explained, her eyes going to the ceiling. “He never imagined a mere… mere pony could harm him, and harm him I most certainly did. He will think twice before trying again.”

Fancy shook his head. “But what if he attacks while you are healing?”

She was quiet for a few seconds, her eyelids drooping a little more.

“Then it will be up to all of you to protect Equestria.”

Sir Deeds snapped to attention. “Of course. If he comes back, we’ll be ready.”

Fancy shot the stallion a dubious look. “And if every dragon in the Burning Lands comes?”

The Lord of Estéril Pezuñas blanched, but didn’t lose his solid stance.

“I haven’t the time to explain,” Celestia whispered, “but the dragons will not… will not follow Reddux just because he killed… killed the First Fang and his mate. He will need something more to… to rally them to his cause.”

“See, First Lieutenant? It’s not hopeless just yet.” Sir Deeds offered a smile, but Fancy noticed the waver in his lips.

Celestia rolled her head to face them. “Sir Deeds, I would like a moment with Fancy.”

Fancy blinked. “With me?”

“As you wish.” Sir Deeds turned to walk for the door, but paused to whisper in Fancy’s ear, “Aren’t we the popular stallion? Do behave yourself, Oh Chaser of Princesses.”

Fancy glared at the back of Sir Deeds’ head as he made for the door. His words came out in a low growl. “Why does everypony make that ridiculous assumption?”

“Fancy.”

He turned to Celestia as the door closed, his stomach twisting as he realized he was once again alone with the princess.

She stared at him, lips set in a deep frown.

“You promised me you would not needlessly risk your life.”

He cocked his head at this statement. “I don’t understand.”

She sucked in a deep breath and cringed, but her eyes never left his. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you on the beach?”

“Oh…” He shuffled his hooves and bowed his head. “I couldn’t just run away.”

“It was reckless of you,” she whispered. “You broke your promise, Fancy, and I do not appreciate it.”

He stared at the floor and his ears lowered. “What else was I supposed to do? Flee like the others?”

She raised her head, but only by a fraction. “I understand your wish to make a difference, Fancy. I know you cannot be lulled from this course.”

She let her head fall back to the pillow, her pink mane surrounding her face like a carpet. She took a few more deep breaths before speaking again.

“If you truly must fight… then do it properly. You were very lucky you weren’t killed.”

“And what about your—” Fancy clamped his mouth closed so fast his teeth clicked. Blood rushed to his cheeks as he averted his gaze once more. What was it with him and debating with her?

Her hoof touched his leg, making him jump and look her in the eyes.

Her words were soft, but commanding. “Next time, Fancy, be prepared. Have a plan. Know what you are going to do before you actually do it. I want you to enjoy my sunrise a few thousand more times.”

She smiled for him, but it faded quickly as her teeth clenched in pain.

“I… I will try, your majesty.”

“Good.” She relaxed and closed her eyes. “I am sorry… I am too tired. I have to… sleep…”

As her voice drifted, her breathing took on a slow and steady rhythm. He watched her for several seconds, heart twisting as he took another look her wounds. Fancy considered leaving… but couldn’t bring himself to turn away.

So he sat and watched. He was there for a long time, pondering on her words and how he could keep his. How does one plan for a dragon attack? He glanced to the window, where the sun still shined high in the sky. He wondered if the world would remain stuck this way until she awoke.

Time passed, yet still he didn’t leave. He wondered if somepony would come grab him after a while.

He was abruptly aware of a new presence, though he’d not heard the door open.

“You’re a pain in the flank, Son of Bright Plume.”

Fancy looked up to find that strange, pink-maned stallion standing opposite the bed. “You?”

The stallion’s eyes were set on Celestia’s face. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes heavy with concern. “How’s a stallion supposed to spend some alone time with the mare of his dreams when others won’t leave?”

Fancy offered no response.

The stranger paid him no more mind, instead leaning over so his lips were near Celestia’s ear.

“I’m not sure if you can hear me,” he whispered, “and I know you hate me and what I do… but we’re here, Celestia. We’re doing our job. Equestria won’t fall, not while we’re watching her. Try to take comfort in that, okay? I promise, we’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Celestia made no attempt to answer, and after a few seconds the stranger stood up straight. Fancy studied his concerned frown and shifting stance.

“Do you… work for her?”

The stallion’s eyes turned to him. “I understand you, Fancy Pants. I understand what you feel towards Celestia. Other ponies make fun of you for it, but I know that a loyalty like yours goes beyond obligation or respect.”

Fancy fidgeted and turned his eyes back to the princess. He could think of nothing to say, so he remained silent.

The stranger went on, “Many ponies serve Celestia because she is the princess of Equestria, but you and me? We know she is much more than that. Keep hold of that faith, Fancy. You may find it as invaluable as she is in the coming days.”

Fancy looked up as the stranger turned away. “Who are you?”

The pegasus paused at the door. He stood there for a couple seconds before finally looking over his shoulder.

“A pony who will stop at nothing to keep her safe.”

He left without another word.

Fancy stared at the door for several long seconds, but finally turned back to the slumbering princess. He settled himself into a comfortable position by the bed. He had absolutely no intention of leaving until he had to.

The sting in Reddux’s ribs became too aggravating. He grimaced and clutched at the large burn as he circled for a landing. His claws touched down on the cracked, orange ground that stretched all about him for as far as his keen eyes could see. Rearing onto his hind legs, he inspected his wound. Though melded together in an ugly mess, his scales were intact. It wouldn’t be pleasant when it came time to shed them.

Reddux tucked his gargantuan wings to give the wounded muscles some relief. Yet even as the searing pain dulled to a mere aching, he couldn’t relax. On the contrary, his claws opened and closed into fists over and over again and he sneered at the ground. He had heard of Celestia’s power, but the thought that he’d underestimated her had his blood boiling. Mere ponies should not possess the power to harm dragons.

His gaze rose to the sun, which glared down from a cloudless sky. It hadn’t moved at all since he’d left the city in flames. He realized it probably wouldn’t move for some time. How long before his allies figured out the magic?

Then again, maybe it wouldn’t require much study.

As he lowered his head, he spotted something in the distance. It was a dragon of a deep gold, and it flew directly for him. He frowned as he rubbed his wound and waited for the stranger to come closer.

At last he recognized the drake. He was big by dragon standards, though still small in comparison to the mighty Reddux. His scales were dull with age, his horns cracked in places and his tail cut short by a dozen feet, ending in a scarred nub. His eyes were fogged with cataracts, but they were able to focus on Reddux easily enough.

Reddux stiffened his shoulders and crossed his arms as his visitor landed before him. “Parjin. Come to pontificate, I assume.”

Parjin sat back, his eyes narrowed as he contemplated Reddux. “You never learned to mind your elders, young drake. I heard some disturbing news involving you.”

A toothy grin came upon Reddux’s face. “All true, old drake. I have claimed the Hoard of Blazen.”

“Foolish.” Parjin scowled up at Reddux, his fogged eyes still capable of flashing in anger. “What do you hope to achieve? The hoards will not follow you just because you have killed the First Fang and his mate.”

“Blazen was weak,” Reddux replied with a snarl. “You know this, Elderwyrm! He all but bowed to the ponies.”

“A typical response from the ignorant.” Parjin waved a dismissive claw. “When faced with a Hoard that cannot be breached, fly circles around it.”

Reddux’s claws tensed. “Be careful what you say, old drake. The hoards understand force. They will follow me against the ponies.”

Parjin snorted a small cloud of smoke right in Reddux’s face. “Why should they? All you have done is divide the hoards until a new First Fang is chosen. Have you forgotten Blazen’s daughter?”

Ignoring the smoke, Reddux turned and began to walk away. “Sorahna is dead. I’ve seen to it. Go stare at some rocks, old drake; there’s genocide to be had.”

“You’re limping, little lizard.”

A vicious growl rose from Reddux’s throat as he turned on the Elderwyrm. “Celestia is broken! I defeated her with my own claws, scorched her with my own—”

“You cannot burn Princess Celestia,” Parjin said, head held high. “Not even with dragon fire.”

Reddux claw reached forward to grasp Parjin’s throat. “Do not test me, old fool, or I’ll end you as I did her!”

Parjin didn’t even flinch. His eyes narrowed and his lips sank into a frown. “Did you really kill the princess of the ponies?”

“No.” Reddux leaned forward so their snouts were touching. “She will live long enough to watch her precious Equestria burn.”

Parjin pressed back against Reddux’s aggressive pose. “The hoards will never support a war against the equines.”

“They must!” Redux bared his fangs. “They all know the ponies are weak, feeble wretches. They don’t deserve to breathe the same air as us! Why should we leave them their lands, their freedoms, their lives? They should be bowing to us as deities, yet instead we make deals with them. Why, Elderwyrm?”

Parjin was unaffected by Reddux’s anger. “Get your claw off my throat.”

Reddux only tightened his hold and growled.

“What are you going to do, kill me?” Parjin sneered. “The hoards are already upset with your actions. Many will treat you as their enemy should I die by your claw. Do not think there aren’t those who know where I am at this very moment.”

Reddux’s shoulders tensed and he let out another growl. His claw squeezed a little tighter, his other shaking with the urge to rip apart the old bastard’s face.

At last he pulled back, releasing Parjin and folding his arms with a snort. “You are lucky the hoards respect you so, Elderwyrm, or I would cease your meddling here and now.”

Parjin leaned back in a more relaxed pose and took a moment to rub his throat. “Do you even understand why they call me the Elderwyrm, little whelp?”

“I tire of your lectures, old fool.”

“You are far too young.” Parjin set a claw to his own heart and bowed his head. “I remember The Voice, Reddux. She spoke to me, back when the world was young. You cannot fathom—”

“The Voice is gone!” Reddux threw up his claws with a roar. “She abandoned this world to its own devices! Do not speak to me of deities long dead.”

“She did not abandon us,” Parjin snarled. “She sacrificed her existence so that we might exist free of The Blight. The ponies were her favored race. You would do well to respect that.”

“The favored race of a dead goddess.” Reddux thrust his claw aside in a denying motion. “She had poor taste. The dragons are the superior race, and I will prove it to you all. The hoards will recognize this soon enough.”

“The Voice wished for the ponies to thrive,” Parjin countered, his calm a stark difference from Reddux’s anger. “The hoards will not so quickly abandon the will of one who gave her existence to save us all from destruction. We do not even need the territories beyond the Burning Lands; they provide us with everything that we desire, for The Voice was wise and gracious.”

Reddux leaned forward to glare into Parjin’s eyes. “And what of the eggs, Elderwyrm? Will you deny what was laid before your very eyes?”

Once again, Parjin waved a dismissive claw. “One broken egg and a pony’s corpse is not proof that the ponies are stealing from our nests. That sounds more like the work of changelings to me.”

Reddux let out another roar, smoke flying from his nostrils over Parjin’s head. “They are killing our unborn! Dozens of eggs have been lost already and you peddle in specifics! I will not await your precious evidence, and neither will the hoards. Support me, Elderwyrm, and let the hoards unite, or defy me and leave us divided. Either way, I will destroy the ponies.”

“No.” Parjin crossed his arms in defiance, snout raised high. “I will not condone the slaughter of the ponies. I will not betray the will of The Voice.”

Reddux leaned forward, his claws tensed once more as his shoulders shook. Her bared his fangs and let out a long growl as he half-reached for Parjin’s throat once more… but he held back.

“Damn you, old fool! You doom us to war amongst ourselves!”

“You killed Blazen and Sihalay. You chose to harm Princess Celestia. And—” Parjin’s tail swung about to slap at Reddux’s scorched scales. The larger dragon winced, “—nodrake will believe you are invincible after seeing this. I saw Celestia’s grandmare use the same spell on my brother, little whelp. You are lucky to be alive.”

Reddux let out a bellow and leapt forward, knocking Parjin on his back. He made no attempt to follow up the attack, though.

“Listen well, Parjin the Elder!” Reddux thrust a single finger at Parjin. “When the last pony is but ash and the last dragon has resisted my rule, I will snap your puny neck and hang your wings over my cave. The respect the hoards grant you now will not last, and I will be the First Fang long after your desiccated corpse has been forgotten and withered to dust. I am Reddux the Tyrant, and every creature on this planet will bow before that name.”

He launched, wings raising him high as he turned to the northwest. A wicked smile curled on his lips as he anticipated the glorious moment when he would no longer have to bear that foul creature’s yammering.

Parjin’s shout managed to reach him as he made distance between them. “The ponies are stronger than you think, Reddux!

“You underestimate them at your own peril.”

Author's Note

Yeah, I did just manage to update two stories in one week. Yeah, I do know I'm awesome. :rainbowdetermined2:

The most obvious issue people will likely have with this chapter is this "The Voice" Parjin and Reddux are going on about. Over time I have developed a deep history of the MLP world, and in that history "The Voice" was the creator of one half and "The Blight" created the other. In this headcanon history, The Voice taught ponies how to speak and gifted them with magic (she also created the dragons and most other races, but the ponies were the first). The Voice also created the first alicorns, specifically to be able to defend pony kind from the machinations of The Blight. Throughout all my stories there is a reference to a 'Goddess' in ponies' oaths, and that happens to be directly referencing The Voice, even if this isn't known by the vast majority of the creatures uttering the title.

I've been developing these concepts for some time now, and this is the first story in which my plans have been developed enough to allow their inclusion. Although I don't know when (or even if) I'll get to it, I want to write my own "History of Equestria" series that lays out these events.

Ground Rules

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter VIII
Ground Rules

Fancy’s heart was about as low in his chest as the sun was high. Both had been in their respective positions for what he presumed was a solid two days, though he imagined it wouldn’t be long before everypony lost track of time. Rumor had it the most powerful mages in Equestria were working together in an attempt to recreate the magic required to move the sun again, but if so they were clearly having no luck.

Fancy had never realized just how much he took the night for granted until now. He was sweating in his officer’s uniform, and could only wonder how the armor would feel. Fortunately Sir Deeds had issued orders to stick to the non-combat uniforms for the time being, lest the guards and soldiers all collapse from being boiled in their armor.

He was standing in the grass next to the road, the entire 42nd squadron close by. Captain Feathers was sitting next to him, her eyes wandering from the sun to him every now and then. Her orange wings kept shifting open and closed in small twitches.

“They’re late,” she grumbled.

His eyes were still set on the castle to the west. His answer was a subdued “How can you tell?”

She sneered and flapped her wings. “I just can.”

“Right.”

She glanced at him, then back at the castle. “You really shouldn’t stare so much. Ponies will start thinking you’re a jilted lover.”

Fancy groaned and covered his face in both hooves. “Not you too…”

“What?” Oak looked up at the sky, not appearing at all amused. “You’re the one who keeps staring like you wish you were at her side every minute of every day. You’re not part of the Royal Guard, y’know.”

“Maybe I should’a been,” he grumbled, kicking at the grass. “I know there’s nothing I can do for the princess, but that doesn’t make me any less nervous. She should be recovering in Canterlot right now.”

“I’m sure Sir Deeds’ advisors had a solid reason for recommending she stay here.” She glared up at the sky for the thousandth time. “Is that why you joined up? To serve Celestia?”

He blinked and turned to examine her, but she seemed more interested in the soldiers that hadn’t shown up yet. “Not at all. My joining had nothing to do with Celestia.”

Oak snorted and glanced back at her soldiers, who were milling about and chatting quietly amongst one another. She wiped sweat from her brow and sat, her wings fluffing a couple times. “So why are you here?”

Fancy considered keeping his reasons to himself. She didn’t seem all that interested anyway. Still, it wasn’t as though it was a secret. He stared down at his hooves and sneered.

“My parents – my father – wants me to live a sheltered life as an elite pony. Never do anything dangerous, never mingle with the commoners, never do anything for myself. I ran off to join the army because I want my life to have more value than that.”

She at last turned to him, lips set in a thin frown. “Daddy issues? That’s why you joined the army?”

He stiffened at her tone. “No, not ‘daddy’ issues. He’s just one part of a bigger problem.”

She cocked her head. “What problem?”

“The Canterlot Problem.” He glared up at the sun. “All those elite snobs sitting up there in their mansions, perfectly content to go about their petty, selfish and self-righteous lives. The vast majority have never even broken a sweat before.”

He shot her a determined glare. “I’m not going to be like that. I’m going to earn my titles. When ponies look at me, they’ll know exactly why I am an elite, and it won’t have anything to do with my heritage.”

She considered him for a moment, her muzzle raised and her frown as firm as ever. But then she smirked and turned back to the road. “You’re either an idiot or very noble. Probably the first one. Still, it’s better than what I was expecting.”

“And what, pray tell, were you expecting?”

Oak shrugged. “For you to be some idealistic foal thinking he could join the army for glory and honor, spend a few years looking pretty in a uniform and go home claiming to be a hero.” She shook her head with a scowl. “You’d be amazed how many rich wannabe-Hurricanes show up thinking they’re already a tactical genius right out of training.”

Fancy sighed and shook his head. “No, actually. I don’t think I would.”

She shot him another smirk. “Well at least this rich wannabe has a decent reason behind his stupidity.”

They shared a chuckle that didn’t last long enough. Her eyes soon turned down the road again, and his were back to lingering on the castle. Feeling just a touch awkward and scrambling for a new topic, Fancy asked, “So why’d you join?”

“Family legacy,” she replied almost immediately, like she was ready for the question. “Twenty generations of Feathers have been in the military in some fashion. We have stories going all the way back to before the Great Divide.”

Now it was her turn to have his attention; he turned to gape as if meeting her for the first time. “Really? That’s incredible.”

She huffed. “Incredible my line lasted that long. There were never many Feathers; we keep dying young.”

He frowned and studied her face. She held a hard expression, her lips still set in that thin frown and her eyes locked on something in the distance.

“You think you won’t survive this conflict.”

She tensed and averted her eyes.

Fancy set a hoof to her shoulder. “I was recently told by somepony that we all have a destiny. I trust that pony implicitly, but I also think our actions can help destiny out. You’re not going to die, Oak.”

She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. Her voice was as hard as her eyes. “You have no way of knowing that.”

He smiled and shrugged. “Maybe, but that’s not going to stop me from believing. I’ll have your back, Captain.”

He cocked her head with a bemused frown. “Careful, rich colt, the guys might think you’re coming on to me… and considering I’m married, that wouldn’t be a good thing.”

He pulled his hoof away from her shoulder and raised his legs, not losing that smile. “Perish the thought! Although I do have to wonder why it is everypony assigns romantic elements to everything I do.”

“You make it easy,” she replied with a grin before turning back to the road. “You’re a nice guy, Fancy. Handsome too. Don’t be surprised if you get back from the war and find all the elite fillies fawning over you.”

He ducked his head with a small blush and busied himself with adjusting his uniform. “That’s more of a nuisance than you know.”

She chuckled and shot him a knowing glance. “Something you have experience with, huh?”

The burn in Fancy’s cheeks intensified as he averted his gaze. “Let’s just say there’s more than one benefit to not being in Canterlot anymore. So,” he added before she could embarrass him further, “Married, eh? Where’s Mr. Feather, then?”

“Back in Cloudsdale,” she replied, her smile broadening a touch. “Trying to keep our daughter from doing something stupid and getting herself killed.”

He grinned. “She sounds rambunctious.”

“Oh, she’s a hooffull.” Oak laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know how he manages to keep her under control without me. She’s always going on about ‘Wonderbolts’ this and ‘Wonderbolts’ that. Her daily practices are enough to give us both heart attacks.”

Oak’s entire demeanor shifted as she spoke; her eyes went from hard to glowing, her wings spread just slightly and her lips split in a broad grin. The sight made him smile.

“So what’s her name?”

“Spitfire.” Oak gazed up at the sun, but for once there was no agitation on her face. “She’s my beautiful little athlete. She really is gonna join the Wonderbolts, I just know it.”

Fancy couldn’t help basking in her pride. He didn’t bother to say anything, lest he ruin the mood. Turned out no help was necessary; Oak abruptly wilted, her smile turning into a dour frown. She looked up at the sun, now tapping her hoof with that impatience she’d so recently lost.

The castle was suddenly very interesting again. Fancy shuffled his hooves and wondered if he shouldn’t ask about the shift in Oak’s demeanor. Maybe he’d already pried a little too deeply. The silence lingered, and the urge to ask tightened about his brain until he was on the verge of blurting out the words.

He was rescued by a familiar sound rising from the distance: marching.

“It’s about darn time.” Oak promptly flew back to her squadron, barking orders and trying to get her team in formation. Fancy retreated from the road to stand apart from them, though he kept a little closer to the front than most. He was, after all, an officer. Still, being the only non-pegasus joining the battalion, he felt rather awkward.

It was several minutes before the soldiers appeared on the road, the dust from their march being the first indicator. The 42nd squadron ponies were lined up and at attention by the time the first stallion marched into view. Soon the entire battalion could be seen, heads held high. Fancy couldn’t help but notice that the Earth ponies leading the battalion were still in their armor. The idea alone made him sweat.

But the battalion wasn’t comprised of just Earth ponies; a small number of pegasi followed, uniformed in silver and appearing no less proud despite the sweat pouring off of them. At the rear were unicorns in similar attire, though their numbers were fewer still. If there were a hundred pegasi, the unicorns could be no more than half that. At the head of the battalion was a lone Earth pony, whose armor was distinctly different. While all the other earth ponies wore iron, his was steel. Fancy let out a small whistle at the sight of it; even officers didn’t get steel except under extreme circumstances.

The commanding officer called a halt just before the battalion reached the waiting 42nd. He turned about to bark orders, and the soldiers all relaxed; pegasi stretched wings, Earth ponies removed their helmets and wiped sweat from their brows. The unicorns moved about casting spells, presumably to help stave off the heat.

That done, the officer walked up to Captain Feathers, removed his helmet and saluted, revealing a light brown coat and pale blue mane. His green eyes were about as hard as his voice was gruff. “Colonel Geri Mander, Commander of the 8th Batallion.”

Oak returned the salute. “Captain Oak Feathers, Her Majesty’s 42nd.” They exchanged a hoofbump. “I was beginning to wonder when you guys would show up.”

“The heat caused some problems,” the colonel replied with a scowl. “Had to allow extra breaks.”

“Understood.” Oak surveyed the soldiers. “How long before we’re underway?”

“Half an hour.”

Oak nodded. “Then we’ll launch in fifteen minutes.”

“That will do.” Colonel Mander turned his eyes on Fancy. “Is that him?”

“The survivor? That’s him.”

Colonel Mander’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly he was marching towards Fancy.

Fancy saluted as the stallion stopped in front of him. “Sir, First Lieutenant Fancy Pants, reporting for duty.”

The colonel returned the salute, but his expression was as hard as ever. “You’re not in the 8th, First Lieutenant, you’re now a guard for Guardia del Este, and I’m foalsitting you until you get there.”

Fancy blinked. “Sir, I—”

“Shut it.”

His mouth clamped closed so fast his teeth clicked.

Colonel Mander eyed him with a deep frown. “You’re either the stupidest rich colt alive, or the bravest. I don’t care that you survived Sueño; for all I know that’s more on account of dumb luck than skill. You’re no hero, First Lieutenant, so don’t go acting like one.”

“Hero?” Fancy stepped forward to glare into the stallion’s eyes. “What I saw was not fun, Colonel. Don’t pretend your tough guy demeanor will be enough to get through what’s coming. I didn’t volunteer for this to strut around like some Canterlot peacock.”

The colonel’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t lose his hard expression. He stared right back at Fancy, who could almost see the gears churning behind those eyes.

“We shall see.” The colonel snorted and nodded towards the battalion. “You’ll be in the rear with my unicorns. Try to keep up, rich colt.”

He turned away without another word. Fancy watched him go with a scowl; steel armor or not, he was seriously considering putting a black mark on that stallion’s flank. That golf club wouldn’t look so—

Golf club?

Sure enough, Fancy saw that the colonel’s cutie mark was a golf club, with two golf balls. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Fancy, you’ve got balls.”

He turned to find Oak grinning at him. “Excuse me?”

She pointed to the colonel, who was busy talking with some of his officers. “I’ll have you know that Colonel Mander once beat up four griffons with his bare hooves. You just stood hoof-to-hoof with one of the toughest stallions alive.”

“Four griffons?” Fancy felt his stomach do a flip. “Why was he in a fight with four griffons?”

“He was in Grypha during the Selene River incident.” She raised an eyebrow at his wide eyes. “What, don’t you know your military history?”

“I know all about the Selene River conflict,” he replied as he studied the colonel’s backside. “I never expected to meet a still-active veteran from it, though. How old is he, fifty?”

“Something like that. He’s not only the toughest soldier there is, he’s also one of the oldest. Celestia tried to make him a general a decade ago, but he wouldn’t take the promotion. Dunno why.”

“Huh.” Fancy turned away from the colonel, the better to hide his smirk. “With a cutie mark like that, he has to be tough. And you say I’ve got balls.”

Oak snorted and covered her lips, shoulders shaking. “K-keep that kind of thing to yourself! I thought you nobles were above that kind of vulgarity.”

“Lance grows on you,” he replied with a smirk… but it faded immediately. He looked east, to the sea, and felt a familiar vise on his heart.

Oak sighed and patted his shoulder. “You’ll get some justice, Fancy. One way or another.” She gestured to the soldiers on the road. “Why don’t you find a place for the march? I’ve got to get the Redwings set.”

“Yeah… I’ll do that. Be careful out there, Captain.”

She smiled and nodded. “You too, First Lieutenant. I’ll see you on the march.”

Fancy left her to her squadron, making his way to the back of the battalion. He kept his eyes on his hooves, mind slowly churning over unpleasant memories. He wished he’d not mentioned Lance.

When we meet in the afterlife, I’m gonna kick your tail straight to Tartarus. So you better not die, ‘cause I’m gonna make your afterlife miserable!

You have been given a gift, the gift of life. Do not throw that gift away on foalish endeavors. Live, Fancy, and shine as fate intended you to.

“I know,” he grumbled with a sneer. “Both of you, I know.”

He was abruptly aware of being watched. He glanced up just in time to see the entire battalion looking in some other direction. There was a strange urgency in him, and he picked up his pace as he continued for the back of the line.

Those unicorns not working on cooling off the others sat in small groups, chatting amongst themselves. More than a couple eyes turned to Fancy as he approached. He was considering where to sit when a mare waved him over. Next to her was as good as any other location, so he joined her.

The pink unicorn was sitting among a half-dozen others, all watching curiously as he sat amongst them. “You must be Fancy Pants,” she said with a voice that seemed a little too high-pitched.

He leaned back at her light tone. “Uh… that’s me.”

She brushed her curly blonde fringe from her face and peered at him. “Well, you’re a big fella. I expected you to be more muscular, though.”

Fancy scratched the back of his head. “Err… okay?” Her words abruptly finished running through his brain. “Wait, why would you be building expectations about me?”

One of the younger stallions leaned towards him with wide eyes. “Did you really survive the Slaughter of Sueño?”

With a wince, Fancy glanced away. “Y-yeah, I was there.”

A round of gasps made his ears fold back.

“How many dragons were there?”

“Did you really fight them off all by yourself?”

“How big were they?”

“Is it true you fought them the entire night?”

“They say you were fighting for a mare. Who was she?”

“I heard you stood up to Reddux himself!”

“Did you really blast the fort apart just to get at the dragons?”

“Whoa, whoa!” He raised his hooves to ward off their verbal assaults. “What are you ponies talking about?”

The pink unicorn shot a small beam that erupted in the center of the group, and they all promptly clamped their jaws. She cast a glare at the lot of them. “Keep your questions to yourselves! I doubt Fancy wants to even think about that right now.”

“No, seriously.” Fancy scanned them, noting that more than a few ponies from the other groups were eyeing him again. “Where did you guys hear all of… of that?”

She offered a weak smile. “You’re kind of a living legend right now. Rumors fly fast.”

He groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Great. That’s all I need.” Suddenly the colonel’s words made a lot more sense. “Please tell me I’m not being depicted as some self-important ‘hero’ figure.”

“Nopony knows,” one of the younger stallions pointed out. “All we’ve got are rumors.”

“So unless you want to tell us about it,” a mare ventured with a smile.

He stomped the ground and glared at them. “No, I do not want to tell you about it. It was bad enough going through it once!”

They all winced at his glare. Some looked away, having the decency to show their shame.

“Nopony’s gonna bother you about it,” the pink pony declared before turning to peer at her comrades. “Are they?”

None of them bothered to reply; their averted gazes said enough.

Fancy sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t exactly the best first impression, was it?”

“It’s alright, First Lieutenant.” She gestured to herself with a grin. “I’m Frosty Sundae, Private First Class.”

They exchanged hoofbumps. Fancy offered a weak smile. “I’d say I’m Fancy Pants, but apparently everypony already knows that.”

She introduced him to the rest of the ponies in their circle, and he tried to be friendly with them. It was hard, considering he kept thinking about Lance and Sparks. And Celestia; more than once he found himself glancing towards the castle.

Frosty noticed, but held her question back until the last of the ponies had been introduced. “Is it true? Is Celestia really in a coma?”

He grimaced and shook his head. “It’s not a coma, it’s a regenerative sleep. She’s simply recovering from her injuries.” He tried to keep his tone light as he cast another furtive look towards the castle.

“But she’s unconscious,” Frosty said. “Dead to the world, right?”

Fancy stared at his hooves. “Well… yes. She won’t be able to help us for a while.”

Murmurs filled the air. There wasn’t a smile in sight after this revelation.

Frosty glanced at the others with a small frown but made no attempt to quiet them. Instead she leaned towards Fancy and said, “I know you probably get this a lot, First Lieutenant, but… why? Why did you volunteer to join us?”

He groaned. “You’re right, I am getting that question a lot, and I’m sick of answering it. I have my reasons, okay?” He frowned up at the sun. “Maybe, if we’re all alive after this, I’ll tell you.”

“Works for me,” Frosty replied, though she was pouting.

Just then there were calls running down the line, and everypony stood. Fancy found himself set in place between Frost and an older stallion.

The long, hot march had begun.

Fleur’s hooves were heavy and sweat dripped from her brow. She’d given up trying to wipe the stuff away some time ago. Everywhere she looked, there was cracked, brownish-red dirt. It was a desert, plain and simple. She knew they weren’t in the Badlands just yet – the occasional patch of dried grass or grove were grim reminders of that fact. Still, she felt like this area qualified for the title. She hefted her bags with a grunt and plodded along, resisting the very strong urge to drink some of her water.

Yet as unhappy as she was, she refused to complain. She looked to Fine, walking just a few feet before her with his head low. He still carried all of his bags, outright refusing to let her help. She had no idea if his manner was due to paranoia or him being a gentlepony. His ever-present glower suggested the former; his insistence that she always sleep in the tent suggested the latter.

A quick glance at the immobile sun left a sinking feeling in her gut. Fine had received a letter from somepony in a poof of magic, informing them of Celestia’s ‘draw.’ The knowledge that the single most powerful pony in Equestria had been so terribly injured continued to leave Fleur with a cold feeling, but almost as disturbing was how not disturbed Fine had been.

Fine’s reaction was difficult for her to define. Had he been scared? Angry? Traumatized? She couldn’t be sure. The word ‘annoyed’ most frequently came to mind. When pressed, he summed up his entire reaction in one sentence:

“Maybe now she’ll finally wake up.”

What the hay was that even supposed to mean? He wouldn’t elaborate, though, and he had been very quiet ever since. Something told her ‘quiet’ described him very well. And moody; she’d not seen him smile once since they’d begun walking south.

Fleur was glaring at his backside when she noticed the object in the distance. She peered at it, trying to make out a shape. It took nearly a minute for her to determine that it wasn’t living and winged.

“Mr. Crime?”

He groaned and shook his head. “Please, call me Fine. It’s not like I’m begging to be caught.”

She tilted her head at him; those words were more than he’d said in a very, very long time. “Umm… it’s just… look.”

Fine raised his head, eyes immediately locking on the object in the distance. “Oh, good. I was beginning to think we’d never get there, what with this infernal eternal sunlight.”

For a moment Fleur found herself trying to say ‘infernal eternal’ without getting tongue tied, but shook herself out of it quickly. “What is it?”

“Guardia del Este.” He huffed a small laugh and added dryly, “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

She moved forward so she was walking beside him and tried to look him in the eye. “What are we going to do there?”

“Ask questions,” he replied as if this were all the answer she needed.

“What kind of questions?” she asked with a frown.

“The kind most ponies can’t answer.” His eyes narrowed a fraction. “And those who can are either insane or criminals.”

She took a moment to consider this response. “Fine… what exactly are we trying to discover?”

“You are not trying to discover anything,” he replied with head held high. “You’re going to wait for me outside the fort while I go inside and ask the questions.”

She frowned and shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. Why would I wait out here? I might be able to help.”

“That I find highly dubious.”

‘Highly dubious?’ Where did he get these odd phrases?

“How do you know I can’t help if you won’t let me try?” she demanded.

He eyed her with his usual sullen frown. “You’re lucky I’m letting you tag along at all. Not that I can help it, considering that damn spell you put on me. When the hay does it wear out, anyway?”

“As if I’d tell you,” she grumbled.

It took her a few steps to realize he’d stopped. She turned to find him watching her, his expression unchanged but his eyes a little harder. Sitting down, she returned his frown and maintained a calm demeanor… but there was a rising feeling in her chest. He’d never really responded to her before.

He leaned forward to peer at her. “I think I might just leave you at the fort.”

She tensed and copied his motion. “You can’t. I’ll just follow you.”

“I could always just tell one of them who you are,” he countered. “I bet the commander of the base wouldn’t mind returning you to Estéril Pezuñas. Brownie points from your uncle.”

Fleur ground her teeth and stood to give him the full force of her glare. “I am never going back to him.”

“Then run away.” He gestured to the desert all around them. “Take some of my supplies and just disappear.”

“Not until you teach me,” she snapped. “You said you would, but I haven’t learned one spell from you!”

He rolled his eyes. “I am not your foalsitter. I am on a mission. I’ve told you this before. Or do you actually want to enter the Badlands?”

She blinked and looked towards the fort over her shoulder. “You mean… the fort’s not your last stop? Where the hay are you even going?”

When she looked back, he had his eyes closed and appeared to be concentrating. His horn shined brightly, small sparks rising from the tip. For an instant she felt her chest tighten with worry… but nothing happened. Seconds passed as he strained, the light of his horn pulsating in various degrees of frequency. At last it dimmed and he sagged, sweat dripping from his brow as he panted.

Fleur glanced around, her anger lost. “What was that supposed to do?”

He shook his head, rubbing the area just below his horn with a scowl. “Would have been the perfect opportunity to get it right. Oh well…” He started walking again, his eyes on his hooves. “I wish you’d listen to reason.”

She sniffed and fell in step alongside him. “Yes, because abandoning a filly in the middle of the desert is perfectly reasonable.”

He paused and turned his head to stare at her.

Then something happened so shocking she thought Tartarus may have frozen over: he smiled.

“Point taken.”

He moved on without another word, leaving her to gape like a fish. She hurried to catch up. “Does this mean you’ll teach me now?”

“Nope. Just means I’ll leave you in the fort instead of out here.”

“Oh, really?” She came along beside him and leveled a dark smile his way. “And should I tell the guards that you kidnapped me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really think they’d believe that?”

Fleur abruptly threw herself onto him and let out a cry. He stumbled back with a sneer and tried to pull her off, but she locked her hooves around his neck and sagged, putting all her weight on him.

“Please, he’s been hurting me and touching me! Don’t make me stay with that terrible stallion, he makes me do horrible things! I just want to go home!” She brought out the waterworks and pressed her cheek to his chest, sobbing.

“What the buck?” He pried at her hooves but couldn’t loosen them. “Get off me, you crazy pony!”

“Uncle Daring told me not to talk to strangers, but he seemed so n-nice and offered me sweet rolls and told me he had more! Then he brought me into a dark tavern room and sh-showed me his—”

“Alright, I get it!” Fine’s face was burning as he snarled. “Let me go, for buck’s sake, I won’t leave you behind!”

An instant later, Fleur was standing apart from him, wiping her cheeks and smirking. “Why, thank you.”

Fine brushed himself off, but couldn’t get the crimson out of his face. “Where the hay did you learn to do that?”

Her smile faded and she glanced away. “I told you, I was on my own for a year. It was either learn to manipulate feelings or die.”

He blinked, his cheeks finally returning to their normal colors. “You mean you had to get good at begging.”

Now it was Fleur who was blushing. Her ears lowered and she gave a small nod. “It didn’t always work, though.”

“I imagine not.” Fine stared at her for some time, and she could only shuffle her hooves. “You’ve really had it rough, haven’t you?”

She glared at him. “What, was my little breakdown the other day not evidence enough for you?”

Fine turned away and gestured for her to follow. She did so, but kept her distance. Her eyes remained locked on her hooves as she tried to get bad memories out of her mind.

“It dawns upon me that I may have made a mistake.” He glanced back at her and waited for her to catch up. “You really want to learn from me?”

“Of course I do,” she whispered, not raising her eyes. “I need to learn to protect myself.”

“And just how far are you willing to go to do so?”

She raised her head to stare at him. There was something about his tone that kept her from snapping one of her usual comebacks. “What do you mean?”

He was gazing forward, his eyes glazed over in thought. “I always intended to leave you at the fort. There’s a solid chance I’ll be entering the Badlands, and I didn’t want you to go out there with me. Yet I’m coming to realize that you’re not like most foals your age.”

He leveled her with a firm expression. “The only way I’m going to be able to teach you is if you come with me everywhere I go. I travel a lot, and my job tends to involve threats of the fatal variety.”

“I’m not afraid,” she reminded him, raising her head high.

“Not yet.” He turned his gaze to the distant fort. “It’s no longer my decision to bring you along; it’s now your decision whether or not to follow. You need to be aware of the risks.”

Fleur’s heart leapt into her throat and a grin split her lips. “I’ll take it! The risks are worth—”

He raised his hoof, effectively silencing her. “Not so hasty. I’m still leaving you outside of the fort.”

“What? But you said—”

“Let me finish.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she clamped her mouth shut. “I’ll go inside, talk to the ponies I need to talk to, then come back for you. After that I’ll know where I’m going next, and you can decide if you want to come with me or not. If you do, then I promise to teach you a few things and let you know a bit more about my work.”

He pressed a hoof to her chest, stopping her mid stride as he peered into her eyes. “This is important, Fleur. You need to think carefully about what I’m offering you. I know you think the risk is worth it, but you learning from me will be worth less than Discord’s butt crack if you end up dead a week from now. Don’t. Just. Say. ‘Yes.’”

Seconds passed in silence. They stared at one another, Fleur’s heart beating just a little faster than normal as he kept her eyes locked with his. She abruptly remembered that glare he’d given her in her room, the one that had so effectively terrified her. This wasn’t even close to the same intensity, but it had a similar impact.

For just a moment, Fleur wondered if his eyes weren’t enchanted.

“I understand,” she said at last.

“Good.” He turned away and resumed his walk. “Just think carefully, that’s all I ask.”

Author's Note

Unlike Oak feathers, who is an OC, Geri is a background pony. Mustaches to anyone who figures out where he appears in the show.

And notice I called the squadron the "Redwings." Let's see if anyone gets the reference.

Writing this chapter was a pain in the butt. It took forever, I kept going back to edit some things, and generally it was just annoying. I'm glad it's out, and now I can focus on what's next. I wish you guys didn't have to wait so long between chapters, though.

Guardia del Este

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter IX
Guardia del Este

Fine glanced over his shoulder. “You are gonna stay out here, aren’t you?”

Fleur stuck her tongue out. “I don’t know why I couldn’t wait inside the fort, but yes, I’ll behave.”

He raised an eyebrow and didn’t move.

After a moment of staring, Fleur finally rolled her eyes and turned to walk inside the tent just beneath the massive wall. She poked her head out to scowl at him. “There, are you happy?”

“Never.” He turned away and walked alongside the wall. “I’ll be back in a couple hours… probably. Just think about what I said, okay?” He perked his ears for a response and received none. It would have to do.

Guardia del Este wasn’t as massive as Fine had feared. The wall, made of a sand-colored brick, rose about twenty feet above his head. It was nothing compared to the fortress at Estéril Pezuñas. Even without having seen the interior yet, Fine doubted the place would last long against a dragon attack.

Thinking of the dragons had him peering to the north, but of course there was nothing. He couldn’t help but wonder about what the dragons were waiting for. With Celestia out of the picture, what was to stop them from turning Equestria into a land of fire and brimstone? It was that kind of thinking that made him feel the urgency of his mission.

Something was keeping the dragons back. Whatever it was, he had to finish his job before it stopped doing so.

The fort’s main gate faced the west, a peculiar design choice in Fine’s mind when the road leading to it was from the south. No guards stood at the front gate, which was open and free to enter. Fine didn’t question that particular decision; the foe this place was built for wasn’t going to be entering via the front gate.

Fine paused just within the wall, slowly casting his gaze along the interior. The walls formed an open space roughly three hundred feet wide all around the central fort, which was short and broad. A large number of buildings dotted the interior of the wall, all made from that familiar brick. It was quiet, with only a few guards manning the walls. A few stood in small groups in the courtyard, mostly chatting amongst themselves and minding their own business.

Closing his eyes, Fine recalled what he knew about the place. It only took him a second to remember that he needed to find the servants’ quarters. This in mind, he trotted for the keep’s front door.

A pair of guards were playing checkers by the entrance. They glanced up at his approach and waved. “Don’t recognize you,” the one closest to the door said.

“Just arrived,” Fine replied. “Came from the city.”

“You mean Estéril Pezuñas?” He nodded. “Any news of when our reinforcements are coming?”

“Sorry guys, not a clue.” Fine studied their faces and saw… nothing. No real reactions at all. So they didn’t know about Reddux’s attack yet. Good.

“So what brings you to the fort?” The stallion made a move on the board, which earned him a muttered curse from his companion.

“Got a friend who works in the kitchen,” Fine replied. “Just coming by to visit before things get antsy.”

“You talking about the dragons?” the other soldier asked, his eyes set on the board. “Ponies are crazy. Dragons attacking, please; if you believe that then I’ve got a townhouse in Canterlot for sale.”

Fine chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. “Hey, I just go by the rumors. So, uh—” he gestured to the door, “—is it safe to go in? No big burly stallions gonna kick my flank while I’m trying to find my friend?”

“Nah, go ahead.” The closest stallion waved dismissively. “Just stay out of the center tower. The commander’s pretty stern about who gets into his ‘sanctum.’”

“Got it, thanks.”

“No problem. You gonna make a move or what?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Yeah? Well, think already.”

Fine left them to their game, his pleasant smile fading as soon as he’d turned away. Now that he knew what was considered ‘public domain’ around here, the rest would be easy. He pushed open the door and stepped in, wondering how the two would react when the army showed up with the news.

The interior of the keep was as quiet as the inside. Quieter, in fact; not a soul occupied the inner hall. Fine let the door close and went deeper, his hooves echoing noisily on the hard stone. Soon he came to a door with a new hallway curving to both his left and right. A faded sign over the door offered directions. The kitchens were to the right.

He turned left, for the servants’ quarters.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, the tension in Fine’s shoulders eased. The hallways weren’t well lit and the shadows were deep. The place was cramped and the solid stone imposing. Even the occasional torch in the walls didn’t do much to ease the gloom.

All in all, he felt right at home.

On instinct, he began to move with the shadows, his ears perked for unfamiliar sounds and his hooves moving in a rolling, smooth fashion that quieted his steps. A smile spread on his lips and he reached up to tap the knife at his throat, making it sway. Even if it was hot in the castle, he was glad to be out of the glaring spotlight that was the sun.

Not for the first time, Fine swore to himself that if he ever had a home of his own he’d build at least one windowless room of perfect darkness. It would be his own special little retreat.

His ears perked to humming. The sound made him cringe; whoever it was really needed to work on his voice… not that he had any room to talk. He spotted a half-open door and, after coming a little closer, determined that the sound was from there. Fine wasted no time approaching, poking his head around the corner.

Numerous beds – most of them of the bunk variety – dotted the room. Uniforms were discarded throughout, and every bed seemed to be its own island of property for whoever slept wherever. Clearly these were the servants’ quarters, but at the moment there was only one servant present.

Fine observed the grey coated pony, who was lying on a particularly large bed and intently reading from a scroll. Fine’s mind went over all the facts he had about this mission. One name stood out, and the red-maned stallion met the description. Feeling marginally confident, he strolled into the room.

The pony jumped to his hooves and shoved the scroll under the sheets.

“Too late for that,” Fine said.

The stallion peered at him, one hoof half-buried under the sheets. “Who are you?”

Fine straightened up, his expression abruptly as solemn as the grave. “Somepony from out of town.”

Ears perking, the stallion’s gaze only grew more focused. Slowly, he pulled his hoof from the sheets and stood tall. “And from what town, exactly, are you from?”

“The town that hides in the moonlight.”

The stallion’s face softened. “Fine Crime?”

Fine nodded. “Deep Depths.”

“You’re taller than I expected.”

“And you’ve got one odd job.” Fine let his own expression soften as he gestured to the area around him. “What the heck are you supposed to be watching at Guardia del Este? It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“Says the pony who has been assigned to spy on dragons.” Deep Depths shook his head. “I’m investigating some unusual occurrences in the area, which I’m reasonably certain are related to our giant, scaled lizard problem.”

“I see.” Fine glanced about the open space. “Is it safe to talk here?”

“Not really.” Depths turned and fixed his sheets. At Fine’s raised eyebrow he said, “I’m supposed to be the Servant Master of the castle. Got to at least look the part.”

“Gotcha. So where can we talk?”

“And when.” Depths adjusted his uniform and pointed at the ceiling. “There’s a balcony on the west side of the keep. We’ll talk there. Not now, though; I’m scheduled to set up a meal for the base commander and his favorite cronies. Meet me there in three hours. You can get through the commander’s ‘sanctum,’ can’t you?”

Fine sniffed with a smirk. “Are you really asking me that question? And here I thought my reputation preceded me.”

Depths returned the expression. “Just giving you a chance to show off.” He started for the door.

Fine watched him go. “Would there be any benefit to me if I went around talking to ponies?”

“You can try,” Depths replied from over his shoulder, “but all you’ll get is a less detailed version of what I already know. Take a break, I’m sure you need one after walking through this heat for a few days.”

Fine couldn’t argue that point. He looked around the room, wiping sweat from his brow. Should he go back to Fleur for a while? No, he much preferred to let her stew. It would be another good test of her patience. So… what to do in the meantime?

He looked towards the dark hallway, a smile coming to his lips. He hadn’t had a good chance to practice his special talent on his own for a little while. He didn’t have his notebook and pen, but that was alright; just exploring would do him good.

He set off, wondering what dirty little secrets he could discover.

Fleur stared up at the roof of the tent, her eyelids drooping. She watched a lone string dangling from the corner, like she had for the last hour. Doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. She closed her eyes and relished the dark.

“Don’t think,” she muttered, shifting atop her sleeping bag. “Just sleep, Fleur. Stop thinking.”

She wished she could tell the time. She tossed and turned, doing her absolute best to empty her head of all thoughts. She squeezed her eyes as tightly as she could and buried her head under a fold of the sleeping bag. A few lingering seconds and she pulled it out with a groan.

At last she sat up, making sure to cast a glower at the sunlight streaming in from the front of the tent. Her eyelids were so heavy, it should be easy!

With a defeated sigh, she turned and flopped back down on the sleeping bag. How could somepony be so tired and so bored yet not be capable of sleep? Her hoof flicked at the corner of the bag as she pouted and grumbled to herself.

Time lingered. She remained immobile and fought to keep her brain as empty as possible. The world was silent; not an insect disturbed her ears. Gradually, mercifully, her body began to relax. Her eyes closed…

Something was touching her. It was gentle, rubbing slowly around her shoulder blade. She shifted, but it didn’t stop. It slowly, teasingly drifted down her back.

Her stomach tightened; the thing stopped above her tail, which slipped between her legs.

There were two of them now, gently moving to her flanks, slipping along the curve of her hips and smoothly massaging her cutie mark. She whimpered.

One of them began to migrate farther back, to move beneath her tail…. between her thighs.

Fleur jumped up with a cry and jerked about.

Nothing. She was alone. She pressed her hooves to her crotch and shivered as the sensation faded.

“D-don’t think.” She slapped herself gently on the cheeks a few times. “Don’t think about it, Fleur. F-Fine will be back soon, and you’ll be okay.”

She blinked as her own words filtered through her brain. Had she really just said that? At what point had she come to accredit Fine with safety?

She shook her head forcefully. “You’re not a little filly anymore. You can take care of yourself.” After a moment’s pause, she facehooved. “And now I’m back to talking to myself.”

She stood, wobbling a little as fatigue weighed her down, and went to the front of the tent. Pushing back the flap, she peered out. The near-barren landscape gleamed in the oppressive sunlight. It was almost painful to look at. A few shrubs dotted the horizon, but most everything else out there was cracked dirt and sand.

Abandoning any hope of finding a distraction out there, she let the flap fall and sat. When was Fine going to—

She let out a snarl and turned away, snatching one of Fine’s bags. She dug around until she found the loaf of bread they’d been sharing, ripping off a small chunk. Tossing the rest back inside, she bit into the hard stuff and had to tug to pull the piece off. She took her anger out on the bread, demolishing it in short order.

Her frustration vented slightly, she dropped back onto her sleeping bag and once again stared at the tent’s ceiling.

In fighting down her thoughts, she found them shifting to somepony she’d not thought about in a while: Fancy. Why did he come to mind? Perhaps because the tent was the same color as his mane. Yes, that was probably it.

Closing her eyes, she envisioned Fancy’s face. That dumb moustache, his lopsided smile. More than anything, she remembered the way he looked when they were trapped in that shed together. He’d been determined to protect her, even though it had been so obvious that he was terrified. And the way he tried to be supportive of her at the castle, even if he missed all her hints.

She liked Fancy. He seemed like a kind pony. It was a true shame she couldn’t rely on him, or she might have stuck with him instead of Fine. She couldn’t help but wonder…

Fleur scowled and rolled over, pressing her head into the folds of the sleeping bag for a second time.

Her words were muffled as she spoke. “Stop it, Fleur. You don’t need them. You can take care of yourself.” She used her hooves to press the fabric tight around her face. “You’ve lasted this long by yourself. Just get what Fine can offer, then run off. It’s not like either of them care.”

Silence stretched on as she lay there, breathing heavily into the sleeping bag. She tried to let her mind drift, but that only led to memories, memories of pressing herself under the bunk of a ship’s cabin and wondering where her father was; pressing herself beneath the covers and praying her door wouldn’t open; pressing herself into the corner of a building and wishing the rain would stop pelting her.

Alone. Always alone.

“You’re supposed to be.”

She pushed the thoughts away, gritting her teeth against the wetness of her eyes.

“You don’t need them.”

A ghostly something began to rub around her shoulder blade.

She whimpered.

“F-Fine… hurry up.”

Fine stared at the doorway, his horn glowing red. He strained, working the elements of the spell as best he could. If he could just figure out how all the pieces worked together…

Smoke began to form around his legs. He sensed it, knew he was closer than he’d ever been before. “Come on… come on…”

“What are you doing?”

He flinched, the light of his horn winking out with an audible pop. Jerking about, he found Deep Depths watching him from the open doorway with a raised eyebrow.

“Not a damn thing,” Fine grumbled, turning back to the door. So close…

“Looked like a spell to me.” Depths stepped in and closed the door behind him. “The door’s unlocked, y’know.”

With a scowl, Fine shoved the door open. “Yeap.” He stepped out onto the balcony, his eyes immediately drifting up to the sun. The sight of it made him cringe; it was bad enough when it was only up for half the day.

Depths stepped up beside him, closing the balcony door. “I heard what happened to Celestia.”

Fine rested his forelegs on the stone rampart and looked down at the fort’s walls.

“Nothing to say?” Depths leaned against the wall and studied Fine. “It’s a bad situation, I know, but we’ll—”

“Don’t try to talk positive to me about Celestia.” Fine cast a one-eyed glare over his shoulder. “As far as I’m concerned, she can stay asleep for a thousand years… though I do wish she’d brought down the sun first.”

Depths’ ears perked. “You don’t like Celestia?”

“No.” Fine’s eyes went to the wall once more. “And if we met, I guarantee she wouldn’t like me either.”

“Why?”

Fine groaned and threw up his hooves. “Why does everypony have to make such a big deal out of it? Out of her?” He turned to Depths. “Let’s just get on with our business.”

Depths frowned, though he seemed more confused than upset. “The Archons serve Celestia. We are her most loyal force. How can you be one of our top agents and not be loyal to her?”

“I am loyal to Equestria, not Celestia.” Fine pressed a hoof to Depths chest. “I didn’t join because I have any love for that… mare. I joined because the Archons can give me something nopony else can.”

His companion raised an eyebrow. “You mean legal victims?”

Fine felt something cold clench around his heart. He turned away with a scowl and said nothing.

Depths sighed. “You’re a scary pony, Fine.”

“You have no idea.”

“Nor do I want to.” Depths walked up beside him and stared out at the desert. “Alright, so let’s talk. I’m guessing you spent the last few hours doing exactly what I said you didn’t need to do?”

“Force of habit,” Fine replied with a shrug, still not meeting the pony’s eye. “It was good practice.”

“Didn’t learn anything about the dragons though, did ya?”

Fine relaxed as he realized Depths wasn’t going to press him anymore. “Nope. Didn’t really expect to. I’m tempted to just head out to the Badlands and get it over with.”

“I think that will be necessary, anyway.”

Fine glanced at Depths, who wore a solemn expression as his eyes turned to the north. “What have you got?”

Depths rubbed his chin. “There’s some weird things going on around here. You hear about the wife of Estéril Pezuñas’s harbormaster?”

“Yeeeesssss?”

“Somepony claims to have seen her.” Depths nodded to the north. “Or at least a pony matching her description. She headed into the Badlands.”

Fine peered at the red, sun-streaked expanse, his mind churning over this news. “Interesting.”

“We’ve also lost five soldiers in the past two months.” Depths turned his gaze upon the castle walls. “The base commander won’t even issue a search order, and keeps himself locked up in the top three levels of the keep.”

The part Fine didn’t have time to examine.

He stared down at the castle courtyard, his mind humming. He began to see things, things most ponies would miss: the two mares ‘entertaining’ one another behind the farrier’s shop, their tails just barely visible; the guard sleeping on duty near the entrance of the southern tower, leaning on the wall and chest heaving in a slow rhythm; the two stallions still playing checkers at the entrance to the keep, one of whom was within six turns of winning. The regular, analytical tik-tok of his brain.

“Is there anything in the Badlands?”

Depths peered at him. “Like what?”

“If a lone mare did run off into the Badlands, there must be a place capable of supporting life out there.”

“Right.” Depths thought for a couple seconds. “Dunno if she’d get that far, but there’s a place called Crater Lake. It’s exactly what it says on the tin, and the only source of fresh water in the Badlands.”

Fine’s eyes narrowed. “And a dragon meeting place.”

Depths cocked his head. “How’d you know?”

“Deductive reasoning.” Fine tapped a hoof on the stone a few times. “If somepony goaded the dragons into an attack, that’s the most likely crime scene.”

“So that’s where you’re going.”

“Probably.”

Depths whistled and shook his head. “That’s a five day trek into some rough country. Better make sure you’ve got the supplies.”

Fine nodded. “It’s just two of us. We’ll be fine.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Depths raised his hooves. “I’m not going anywhere. Hoofknife wants me figuring out the mystery of this place first.”

“I wasn’t referring to you.” Fine glanced towards the front gate.

“Then who?”

Fine wondered just how much he should reveal. Thinking on Fleur brought about another curious thought. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

“How long have you been with the Archons?”

Depths blinked and cocked his head. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s just a question.”

“Hmm…” Depths peered at Fine, who averted his gaze. “Seventeen years.”

Huh, he didn’t look that old. Did he start young? Fine shook his head to get rid of the stray thoughts. “You ever feel like helping somepony? Like… taking on an apprentice.”

Depths’ eyebrows rose and he glanced down at the courtyard below. He considered the question carefully. “I’d say that apprenticeships in the Archons are rare and need proper approval, but given your history…” He shrugged. “I can’t say I’ve ever been tempted to, no. I’ve had two of them forced on me, though.”

Fine frowned and eyed the fort’s gate. “And? How’d they do?”

“First one flunked.” Depths leaned against the stonework once more. “I left her in Manehattan. Last I heard she was working as an officer on some cruise ship. At least she’s alive; the second one didn’t last two months.”

Fine’s stomach twisted at this news. He closed his eyes and saw Fleur as a charred stain on the wall; the sight made him shiver. “Great…”

“Hoofknife sent me your file when he said you were coming.” Depths eyed Fine as though he were a lab specimen. “Never pegged you as the type to take on an apprentice.”

“Unusual circumstances.” Fine turned to him. “Do me a favor and keep it under wraps. I don’t want Hoofknife to know I’m considering it until I think it’ll work out.”

“So you haven’t decided yet.”

Fine shook his head and sighed. “I don’t necessarily want to, but the… ‘candidate’ is proving very hard to get rid of. She might make it on determination alone. And…” He stopped himself from saying what was really on his tongue. “…she’s definitely got skills.”

Depths tapped his chin as he studied Fine. “Far be it from me to lecture Hoofknife’s personal protégé. Just make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

A small huff of a laugh broke from Fine’s throat. “That’s exactly what I told her.” He shrugged off the topic. “Moving on, do you think any of the oddities here have anything to do with the dragons?”

“Yes.”

Fine blinked. “You didn’t even pause to consider it.”

“I don’t have to.” Depths gazed down at the courtyard with a grim frown. “There’s some weird things going on here. Not the normal weird. The officers are keeping quiet, and most of the regulars are too laid back and inexperienced to know something’s up, but I’ve been here for two months. Believe me, Fine Crime, somepony is planning something, and I don’t think the timing of the dragon attacks is a coincidence.”

Fine raised an eyebrow. “Any factual evidence?”

“No.” Depths stood tall. “But I can tell you this: the base commander’s my prime suspect. There’s a conspiracy going on here, and it doesn’t end at Guardia del Este.”

Fine frowned and shook his head. “So how do you know it’s related to the dragons?”

Depths sighed. “I can see that you’re the ‘stick to the facts’ type. It’s a hunch, okay? I don’t think ponies wandering off into the Badlands and towards dragon territory is a coincidence.”

With a scowl, Fine lowered his head and thought. If this hunch was right, then it couldn’t be ignored. If it was wrong, he’d be going into dangerous territory – with a foal in tow – for nothing. Yet there was nopony else to check out the situation…

“Alright.” He nodded and turned for the door. “Looks like I really am going to Crater Lake. It’s not like I really expect to find anything combing the southern forts, anyway.”

“Fine.”

He looked back to find Depths staring intently at him.

“Good luck.”

Fleur rose upon hearing the tent flap open. She rubbed her eyes frantically.

“Have you been… crying?”

“No.” She brushed the last of the tears away and refused to look at Fine. “What took you so long?”

He said nothing. After a few seconds, the bread satchel floated over to the front of the tent. Fleur sucked in a deep breath, trying in vain to push down all the terrible thoughts that had refused to go away.

“So… did you find out anything?”

“Yep.” The bag floated back to its place in the corner. “I know where we’re going.”

Fleur blinked and turned to him. Only his head and forelegs were in the tent, and he seemed more intent on eating his chunk of bread than talking to her.

“’We?’”

He nodded. “You still intend to come, don’t you?”

“Well… yes.” She lowered her head a little. “I just thought you were going to interrogate me or something. Weren’t you supposed to tell me where we’re going first?”

He studied her as he chewed. “One of my gifts is analysis. I know – from what you’ve already told me, your general behavior and your background – that it doesn’t matter where we’re going: you’ll want to follow. But, because you should know… we’re going to a place called Crater Lake, in the Badlands.”

Fleur thought on this and shivered. “So we really are going to see the dragons.”

“More like spy on them.” Fine took a moment to finish his bread, leaving Fleur to recall the horrors of Sueño. She tried to steel herself to this news, but it wasn’t easy with all the things she’d been thinking on lately. A long yawn escaped her, and shook her head to clear it.

“I hear that.” Fine began to pull out of the tent. “We both need some sleep. Let’s just—”

“Wait.”

He paused, and Fleur blushed at her outstretched hoof. What was she thinking? She wanted to take the word back, but he was already peering at her expectantly.

“I… um…”

Fleur clenched her jaw and looked away. Her stomach cut flips and her heart pattered in her chest. “I… that is… c-can you… sleep in the tent this time?”

Silence. She didn’t dare look to see his reaction.

“It’s a little small for two.”

He sounded so insensitive.

“I know,” she whispered. “I just… I…” Damn it, she was going to have to say it, wasn’t she? She was supposed to be braver than this.

Fine sighed. “Damn it, this isn’t in my job description.” She could hear him shuffling. “You want to be in the back or the front?”

Fleur raised her head high. “I’m not sure it matters.”

A hoof touched her shoulder and she flinched away on instinct. She glared at him, but his expression was no less hard.

“You can’t be a kid and an adult at once. If you need help, just say so.”

“I’m not a kid!” She bowed her head and tried to control her shaking. “I’m n-not. I just… Damn it!”

He turned his head away, never losing that hard expression. “It’s okay.”

She huffed a weak laugh. “You’re really bad at this comforting thing, y’know that?”

Fine’s head bowed. His eyes remained locked on something she couldn’t fathom.

“It’s okay to be scared.”

Fleur’s body went stiff. “I’m n-not—”

“It holds you like a chain, doesn’t it?”

She looked up at him, at his eyes. She saw the intensity in them. Suddenly, she really wanted to know what it was he was seeing.

“Fear isn’t a bad thing,” he pressed. “It’s healthy. It can consume you if you’re not careful, feasting itself on your every waking moment. Yet it can also be a weapon, a tool to remind you that you’re alive, to keep you going towards something better.”

His eyes turned to her, and she shrank back at their intensity. “Wield it or succumb to it. It’s up to you. If you want to succumb, keep telling yourself it’s not there.”

Fleur stared at him, her breath coming in slow gasps. “W-w… which one happened to you?”

Fine’s eyes narrowed. He held her gaze for some time.

Then he turned and laid down, stretching himself before the tent’s entrance. “Try to get some sleep.”

She waited to see if he would say anything else, but he remained quiet. After a while his breathing deepened, and she knew he’d fallen asleep. There really wasn’t much room left in the tent…

Trembling, Fleur forced herself to lie down, keeping her back to him. She tried to keep from touching him, but their coats brushed one another and she flinched away. She silently wondered if this was a good idea, and cursed herself for showing such weakness. Now he probably thought of her as some scared little filly…

It was true, wasn’t it?

She lingered, staring at the tent wall and trying not to think.

Something brushed against her shoulderblade. She flinched and moved back, hoping to get the ghostly sensation to stop. The motion led to her pressing against Fine’s back.

She froze and held her breath.

Fine didn’t wake up.

Slowly – so very slowly – Fleur relaxed. She closed her eyes.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. The touch didn’t come back.

Pressing a little tighter against Fine, she wondered if she should be ashamed… or relieved.

Author's Note

Guiltily, I confess that I didn't bother to put this one through its third round of editing because I'm feeling lazy tonight. Sorry folks. And yes, I typically put every chapter/story I post through at least three rounds of editing: me, my editors, and me again.

One of the fundamental goals of this chapter was to show that, for all her posturing, Fleur is still only a child. More directly, she still needs somepony to be there for her. It's something she really hasn't had – ever – so she still feels the need to cling to a responsible and at least somewhat well-meaning adult such as Fine Crime. Or at least, that's what I was going for. Let me know how I did, ya?

Order and Actions

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter X
Order and Actions

Fleur sat before the tent, her horn dimly glowing and her attention focused on the magic. She’d practiced the spell a half-dozen times, and was sure she had it down despite how complicated it was. Now she wanted to experiment and try to use it for a different purpose. Fine had encouraged it, but in truth she’d have done so even without his suggestion.

She closed her eyes and tried to envision the magic. It wasn’t hard to do. The really tricky part was knowing how each individual sensation affected the spell and made it work… or otherwise. There were so many different parts to this one and seeing all of it was a challenge. Fine had shown her how to cast the spell, but knowing how to do so and knowing all the pieces of it were two entirely different things.

There was a small sensation just at the tip of her horn, like a ball of energy was floating there. Invisible to the eye, she nonetheless knew it existed. The spell called for it to rotate slowly down to the base of her horn. What if she increased the distance from the horn?

She tried this tiniest of adjustments and completed the spell. It was coming easier now.

She opened her eyes. At first she thought the tent was gone, hidden behind the cloak of invisibility, but after a moment she realized that she could still see it… barely. It wasn’t invisible so much as transparent. Stepping forward, Fleur pushed her face through the veil and saw the tent on the other side, as normal as ever.

Okay, so the circling ‘ball’ handled… transparency? Or maybe the strength of the spell in general? It seemed a little too simple to be something like that, for in changing the ‘ball’s’ radius from her horn she’d also shifted a few other things. How to know which element had caused this reduction in strength?

Determined to learn more, Fleur closed her eyes and began to focus on shutting down the spell. Upon doing so, she noticed a tight sensation at the base of her horn.

“Horseapples…”

She let the magic fade, pouting at the faint image of the tent before her. She was at her limit already…

Well, ‘already’ was relative. She knew she could last longer than most foals her age. She wished her hornguard would wear off already; most foals lost theirs by the age of thirteen.

There was no other option but to rest and let the spell fade on its own.

Fleur glanced along the wall, half hoping to see Fine Crime. As always, there was no sign of him. She started to look to the sun to determine time and promptly stopped herself. It felt like ages since he’d gone into the fort for more supplies.

Her ears perked to an unfamiliar sound, like a distant rumbling. For an instant she suspected dragons and her heart began to pound against her ribs, but why would flying dragons make a rumbling noise? And the things certainly weren’t going to walk across the desert. So no, she reassured herself that it couldn’t be dragons.

She glanced at the fort and saw nothing. She turned a circle, her vision following the horizon. Her gaze settled upon the barely-discernible roadway going north. In the distance was a cloud of dust.

A-ha! Soldiers. With nothing better to do, Fleur sat just outside of the magical veil and waited.

Time passed. The battalion approached at a slow pace, and Fleur rapidly grew bored. By the time the first soldiers appeared, she’d gone into the tent to eat some more bread. She returned to wait, at last getting a good look at the soldiers in the lead. She gawked at their armor; how could they march with that on in this heat? She could actually see the heat waves rising from the line of ponies.

It was still some time before they were close enough for Fleur to see their faces properly. Most of the Earth ponies in the column wore somber, hard faces that were dripping with sweat. There was no disguising their weariness, despite their best efforts to maintain a disciplined appearance. Not a single pony wasn’t panting from exhaustion.

A shadow passed, and Fleur looked up to find a squadron of pegasi flying over the fort wall. A trumpet sounded, alerting those within of the army’s arrival. Fleur couldn’t help but scowl at that; it took them this long to notice an approaching army? What if it had been an enemy?

Then again, the only enemies they were expecting would be coming from the South.

The battalion was marching past her now. Most of the soldiers ignored her, though a few eyes turned her direction. The majority were Earth ponies, though every now and then she spotted an unusually large pegasus amongst their ranks.

Fleur was abruptly hit with a hard realization: most of these ponies wouldn’t be going home. Did they understand that? Were they at all aware of what would happen if a dragon actually attacked the fort? The thoughts sent a chill down her spine, and she abruptly felt helpless before her own comprehension.

Yet she would say nothing to these ponies. It would do no good, for who would listen? In their eyes she would merely be an overexcited child, not to be taken seriously. So she sat there and watched them go by, heart heavy and ears low.

It took some time for the soldiers to pass by. She tried to count them, but kept slipping up. She knew from listening to her uncle that a battalion held a thousand ponies. A thousand…

That was a lot of tombstones.

At last the unicorns appeared. She was glad to see them, if only to know that the battalion had almost completely passed her by. Her gaze danced among the faces of ponies who appeared far more rested than their armored and sweaty counterparts.

Her eyes passed over something blue and white, and her heart leapt into her throat. She looked again and found herself staring into familiar blue eyes. Fancy had paused amongst the unicorns, letting the last of the battalion drift past him as he gaped at her.

Soon the other soldiers had all passed, save for a pink-coated mare who now stood next to Fancy with a curious expression.

Fancy approached, and Fleur sank a little at his ominous frown. She thought on the magical veil just behind her, but it was too late to take advantage of that, so she merely bowed her head and waited.

“Fleur,” he said as he loomed over her, “what in Celestia’s name are you doing here?”

She looked away and kept her lips sealed.

“Do you have any idea how worried your uncle has been?”

“Worried?” Fleur stood and glared up at him. “What does he have to be worried about, that I’m not there to warm his bed? Leave me alone!”

“I can’t,” he replied, voice ever firm. “Fleur, you need to stay at the castle where it’s—”

Fleur’s scream surprised even her: “How can you not see it?” She shook as she stared into his wide eyes, steam snorting from her nostrils. After a moment of silence, she turned away from him and glared at her hooves.

“I…” Fancy’s voice faltered. “Fleur, what… what did I miss?”

She groaned and pressed her forehooves against her face. “Just… go away.”

“But you can’t stay out here on your own. At least let me—”

“Go away!” She jumped forward, passing through the magical veil. She looked over her shoulder to see both Fancy and his quiet companion staring with wide eyes. She promptly retreated into the tent, not that she expected it to be much of a refuge.

“That’s really impressive,” the mare said. “How old is this kid?”

“Fleur! Please, this is ridiculous.”

Fleur watched the tent flap with a scowl. “I’m not going back, Fancy. You can’t make me!”

“It’s also irresponsible.” His voice was just outside the tent. “I’m not going to leave you to survive on your own. We can talk this out and—”

“No.” She shook her head, despite the fact he couldn’t see her. “You’re just trying to trick me so that you can get one of those pegasi to fly me back to my uncle. Well I’m not falling for it!”

“Fleur, please. Be reasonable.”

“I’m going back over my dead body!”

At last the tent flap opened as Fancy pushed his head through. He shot her a determined look. “Listen, young filly, I can’t claim to understand what your issues are with him, but I refuse to let you live out here in a tent! Even if you don’t want to go to the castle, you can at least find better lodgings.”

Fleur pressed her back against the tent wall. “Go away.”

“Fleur—”

“Step away from my charge,” a new voice growled. “Now.”

Fancy pulled his head out of the tent even as Fleur sighed in relief. “And just who are you?”

Fine’s tone was like ice. “I’m the pony looking after the filly. That, Mr. Fancy Pants, is all you need to know.”

Fleur pushed her head through the tent flap and spotted Fine standing off to the right, body lowered aggressively and his horn sparking. A couple bags of supplies rested on the ground just behind him.

The filly left the tent and hurried to Fine’s side. “It’s about time you showed up!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me if I had to take certain precautions.”

“Excuse me,” Fancy snapped, “but what is going on here?”

The mare raised her hoof with a deadpan expression. “I’d like to know too.”

Fancy looked to her as if just remembering she was there. “Oh, Frosty. I thought you went inside.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for making me feel welcome.”

He blushed and scratched the back of his head with a grin, then shook himself and refocused on Fine and Fleur. “Answers, now.”

Fleur ducked behind Fine, peering around him at Fancy.

Fine glanced back at her with a glower before turning his attention forward. “The young filly has asked that I give her some lessons. I agreed to do so.”

“Lessons?” Fancy cocked his head. “What kind of lessons?”

“Not important.”

Fancy bared his teeth. “She needs to go home!”

Fine turned his attention to Fleur, his eyes sharp. She met his gaze and hesitated. Then she realized what he was after and frantically shook her head.

The stallion growled and turned back to Fancy. “She doesn’t want to go back.”

“I gathered.” Fancy rubbed his temple with a sigh. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m trying to do the responsible thing. Sir Deeds is worried sick! Fleur, think about—”

“I don’t give Nightmare Moon’s hindquarters what Sir Deeds wants.” Fine stood tall, his horn sparking. “I have a job to do, places to go. Fleur wants to go with me. Either make something of it or let us be on our way.”

Fancy’s horn sparked in turn, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Whoa, whoa, time out!” Frosty jumped between the two of them. “Play nice, boys. Not all girls like it when you fight over them.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Fine muttered in a blasé tone, “I’ve never had time for them.”

“Ha.” She turned to Fancy. “I thought you were more level-headed than that, Fancy.”

He cringed and glanced away.

“If I might make a suggestion,” she continued, turning to Fine, “why don’t we let Fancy and Fleur have a little heart-to-heart right here, right now. You and I can stay over at the corner of the fort, too far away to hear but within sight so Fleur knows we’re not going to let Fancy just steal off with her.”

Fancy turned on her. “‘Steal off’ with her? Why are you painting me as the villain?”

“Because I think it’s pretty clear that, in her eyes, you are.”

“That’s not true!” Fleur jumped out from behind Fine. “I like Fancy, I just don’t want him to cart me back to my uncle.”

Fine promptly stepped back before she could retreat behind him a second time. “Then talk to him about why. Ah—” he raised his hoof before she could speak, “—do it, Fleur. It’ll be easier on everypony.”

Fleur stared at him for a moment, then seemed to wilt. “B-but…” She chewed her lip and eyed Fancy.

He sighed. “Please, Fleur. At least help me to understand.”

She looked into his eyes, and suddenly her heart was heavy. A glance back saw Fine walking away, and he was soon joined by Frosty. There was no escaping this, was there?

With her head low, she walked to Fancy. “I… I’m sorry. I get it, Fancy, I really do, and I know you mean well.”

He lowered his head to be at her level. “Of course I do, but I’m so confused. Why are you afraid?”

“I’m not afraid!” She stood tall and glared at him, but he countered with a raised eyebrow and critical frown. At his look she sagged. “Okay… maybe I am.”

Fancy sat and gestured. “I’ll listen, Miss Purpurnyj. Whatever it is, I’ll help.”

“You can’t help,” she replied, but sat before him anyway. “The only thing for me to do is learn to survive on my own. That’s what Fine can do for me.”

Fancy’s ear flicked as he shot a dark glance over her shoulder. “And who is he, exactly?”

Fleur winced. “I… don’t exactly know. He keeps to himself.”

His eyes widened a touch. “You mean you trust a stranger you barely know?”

“Fine taught me something to help escape my uncle,” she replied forcefully. “I don’t know how well I can trust him, but I know he at least cares enough to not want that bastard to get his hooves on me again.”

Fancy’s expression grew dark as he considered this. “What did Sir Deeds do, Fleur?”

She shivered and instinctually pulled her hooves between her thighs. “I…” Chewing her lip, cheeks red, she glanced away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

His eyes lowered to where her hooves had moved. He cocked his head with a perplexed frown… then gaped. “No, not Sir Deeds.”

“And that’s another reason,” she snapped. “Nopony will believe me.”

He stared at her for several seconds. At first he held an expression of loose-jawed alarm, but gradually his expression became more brooding. “So that’s what you were trying to tell me all along. I’m sorry I didn’t see it.”

“You’re sorry.” She snorted. “That doesn’t change what happened. You were right across the hall, Fancy, and you didn’t even notice what he did to me the night we got back.”

He shrank from her sharp gaze. “By Celestia’s mane. Fleur, had I known—”

“That’s exactly the problem!” She threw up her hooves. “You didn’t know, and even if you did, you couldn’t have helped me! There’s no stopping my uncle, he’s too powerful. What would you have done if you knew? How would you have helped me?”

“I…” He fidgeted as he fought for some kind of response. “I mean… I could have told the authorities.”

“You’re an officer,” Fleur snapped. “You are the ‘authorities,’ and you work for my uncle.”

He stiffened. “I could have told Celestia.”

“And what would she have done, set up an investigation?” Fleur shook her head. “Daring Deeds knows how to cover his tracks. A hundred ‘witnesses’ will come forward to vouch for his noble character and how kind he has been for taking me in. There’s no physical evidence. Nothing will change.”

Fancy’s shoulders sagged. “I see you’ve been thinking on this very carefully.”

She bared her teeth and let out a small growl. “He’s been abusing me for years. Of course I’ve given it a lot of thought. My entire life has been focused on being free from him.”

“I still want to help.”

“You can’t.” She raised her head high and appraised him in his dashing uniform. “You may be inobservant, Fancy, but I am not. You’re a good stallion, who plays by the rules and expects the best. You follow the law, but the law can’t help me. The help I need comes from less noble stock.”

He sputtered a bit before casting another scowl over her shoulder. “So you’re going to rely on a criminal?”

Fleur leveled a hoof his direction. “Did you help me get out of Estéril Pezuñas?”

He winced and said nothing, staring at her with a hurt frown.

“No.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Fine did. He’s the kind of pony I need right now, one who is willing to break rules. It’s only by breaking rules that I can keep out of Deeds’ hooves.”

Fancy continued to gaze at her, apparently at a loss for words. After a while he began to fidget and glance around, but his eyes were faded with thought. His lips worked beneath his mustache, unable to form any words. He looked… lost.

The sight of him seemed to place Fleur’s heart in a vice. She watched him, wishing he would stop looking so pathetic. At last she did the only thing she could think of: she wrapped him in a tight hug that made him freeze.

“It’s okay, Fancy. It’s not your fault.”

“But… but I…”

She pulled back and smiled for him. “You really are a good stallion. I wish I’d had somepony like you to take care of me all these years.”

He sagged over her. “I’m so sorry, Fleur. I… I want to help. Please, tell me there’s something I can do.”

“Nothing.” She nuzzled him even as the words broke her heart. “There’s nothing you can do right now, Fancy. Just let me go.”

“I can’t.” He looked into her eyes imploringly. “I can’t let this go. I should have seen the signs, I should have known what was going on. There must be something I can do.”

She touched his cheek and maintained her smile, though the sight of those eyes stung. “You already helped. You rescued me from the dragons, remember?”

“That was di—”

She pressed a hoof to his lips. “And now you can help by forgetting I was here. I’m going to leave with Fine. He’s going to teach me how to fend for myself. I’m out of your hooves, Fancy.”

A pained sound rose from his throat. “Why don’t you understand that I don’t want you to be out of my hooves?”

“I appreciate that.” She stood up to give him a peck on the cheek. “I really do. That’s why you have to let me go. The only way you can help me is by breaking the rules. Don’t do that, Fancy, please. I don’t think you’d be so good if you did, and I like you as you are.”

He sniffed and rubbed his cheek where she’d kissed it. He kept quiet and pondered her words for a time. “Promise me something.”

Fleur hesitated. “Like what?”

Fancy reached down to take her hooves in his own, gripping them tightly. “When this is all over, if we’re both still alive… come and see me in Canterlot? Just to let me know you’re alright.”

She smiled. “I think I can do that. It’s a promise.”

“Good.” He smiled, though his lips trembled beneath his mustache. “Very good.”

She gave him one more hug before stepping towards the tent, giving him a clear path. “Goodbye, Fancy, and thank you for caring.”

He took a step, then paused and gave her a long, fretful look. She only kept smiling and refused to acknowledge how her heart ached. At last, without a word, he left. He didn’t look back, and he was soon joined by Frosty.

Fine approached, his face impassive. “I hope you realize that there’s no going back now.”

She sighed and turned to the tent. “I reached that point a long time ago.”

Fancy stared at his hooves, letting the presence of Frosty be his guide to the gate. “Do you think she’ll be alright?”

“Of course she will.”

It sounded a bit too placating. “Did you talk to that stallion?”

“A little,” she replied. “He wouldn’t say much. Who was that filly?”

He sighed and glanced over his shoulder, but they’d already rounded the corner of the wall. “Lord Daring Deeds’ niece.”

She shot him a wide eyed look. “Really? Why’d she run away?”

Fancy chewed his lip, wondering if he should answer that question. How many ponies needed to know? Perhaps Fleur was right. Perhaps it would be better to let her disappear.

“Fancy?”

“Sorry.” He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. “Whatever her reasons, she wants to be with that stallion. I’ll respect her wishes… despite how worried I am.”

Frosty glanced back. “But she’s just a foal. Are you sure she made the responsible decision?”

He paused, leveling a hard expression her way. “Didn’t you hear? That foal was at Sueño.”

She blinked at him with an uncomprehending stare, then gasped. “You mean she’s the girl that—”

“Yes.” He trotted on, head held high and face firm. “She’s the other survivor. I don’t think she’d be keen on galloping into danger after surviving that nightmare, and I know she has trust issues. If she’s willing to believe in Fine, I will accept it.”

Frosty considered this for a moment. “But who is he? He wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“I wish I knew.” He cocked his head as they approached the fort’s gate. “Come to think of it, he knew my name.”

“Maybe she told him about you,” Frosty ventured.

He tried to accept that explanation, though it seemed just a touch too easy. Whoever he was, he’d apparently seen what was happening to Fleur, even though it was happening right under Fancy’s muzzle without notice. That thought made his stomach churn. If something like that was happening so close to him… what else was happening before his very eyes? How many things had he missed in his life?

Was he really that inobservant?

How many ponies he thought of as ‘good’ were actually monsters?

Fleur had called him ‘too good’ to help her. Was such a thing even possible? Was he so blinded by the rules that he couldn’t see when they were holding him back? Could the rules even do that?

He wasn’t all that innocent, was he? He defied his parents to be a soldier. That was something, wasn’t it?

He abruptly started laughing, earning him more than a few funny looks from the resting soldiers that now surrounded him. Frosty raised an eyebrow, at which he only chuckled a little more.

“I’m sorry,” he huffed, even as he quietly wondered just when it was that being good could be considered a bad trait. He resolved to ignore such ideas. Defying his parents might have been a good thing for him, but that didn’t make it a good thing in general. No, he wouldn’t let Fleur’s foalish words disturb him.

Yet that thought in turn rapidly sobered him: if Fleur’s words had been foalish, did that mean her decision was foalish too?

“First Lieutenant!”

Frosty and Fancy promptly snapped to attention as Colonel Mander approached with his usual intimidating expression. Though he was sweating as much as the rest of the soldiers, he didn’t seem the least phased by the heat.

“Where have you been?”

“Dealing with a personal problem,” Fancy replied, not bothering to hide the bite in his tone.

Colonel Mander’s eyes narrowed. “Did I give you permission to break formation?”

“I’m not in the 8th, Colonel,” Fancy replied evenly. “I’m a guard for Guardia del Este, and you were foalsitting me ’til we arrived. Well, we’ve arrived, so I’m fairly certain I’m outside your jurisdiction.”

Frosty gaped at him and took a step back.

The colonel peered at him for some time, his face as rock hard as ever. Fancy refused to be intimidated; his recent talk with Fleur only drove him to stare down the taller stallion. He might get in trouble, but he could handle it. He hoped.

Then, Colonel Mander did something Fancy hadn’t expected at all: he actually smiled.

“You really do have balls, son.” He slapped Fancy on the shoulder with enough force to stagger. “You’re not the prissy rich colt I thought you were.”

Fancy blinked and he heard Frosty release a long breath of air. “Uh, thanks… I guess?”

Suddenly, the colonel’s hoof was under his chin and forcing him to stand on the tips of his forehooves. Colonel Mander looked into his eyes with an expression so fierce it made his blood run cold. “If you ever talk back to me like that in front of my soldiers again, I will knock that horn off your bucking head. Am I clear?”

Fancy swallowed the lump in his throat. “Crystal.”

“Good colt.” The colonel stepped back and pointed his hoof over Fancy’s shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going, Private Sundae?”

Fancy glanced over his shoulder to see Frosty frozen in place, her back to them. She turned around and snapped a salute. “Back to my team, sir.”

“Did you really think I hadn’t noticed you walking in alongside Fancy?”

She cringed and kept silent.

“He might be out of my jurisdiction now,” he cast a dark look Fancy’s way, “but you are not. You’ll be joining the guards on the wall promptly. With armor.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“That means now, Private.”

“Yes sir!”

As she trotted off, Colonel Mander turned his attention back to Fancy. “The Base Commander wants a word with both of us. Come on.”

Fancy followed, offering a silent apology to Frosty getting her into trouble. There was a rustle of feathers as they approached the keep’s entrance; Captain Feathers landed beside Fancy.

“Hello again, First Lieutenant. I see the march didn’t kill you.”

“Hello again, Captain,” he replied as she fell in step beside him. “Base Commander wanted to see you too?”

“Of course,” she replied with a grimace. “Big boys like him have to talk down to grunts like us. Makes them feel like they have big balls.”

Fancy chuckled.

“That better not be in reference to my flank, Captain,” the colonel grumbled without looking back at them.

“Nope, I’m saving that for a real special one liner,” she replied with a grin. “Don’t worry, Colonel, I’ll think of something eventually.”

He grumbled a little more but said nothing in return. They entered the fort and were soon out of the harsh sunlight. To Fancy’s chagrin, the fort was actually hotter on the inside.

“Whew!” Oak flapped her wings a couple times, the tips of her feathers grazing the walls. “Yeah, I’ll be sleeping outside.”

“Perhaps I should have had Private Sundae stand guard in here,” Colonel Mander mused as they passed through the next door.

They moved on in silence, leaving Fancy to ponder the situation. No doubt the base commander wanted to lecture him about not receiving special treatment. It seemed the standard speech for ponies like him.

They passed through a large doorway guarded by two burly Earth ponies, and suddenly the temperature dropped dramatically. Fancy shivered, easily recognizing the cooling magic that filled the room. They were still on the bottom floor… was the entire central tower cooled down? That would require at least a dozen mages. Though he appreciated the cooler temperatures, he thought it a rather wasteful use of energy that might be better reserved for the dragons.

“Ah, Colonel.” A yellow unicorn mare in a dress uniform approached from some nearby stairs. “Welcome to Guardia del Este! I am Lieutenant Colonel Whinnie D. Arnold. We’ve been looking forward to your arrival.”

The colonel gave a firm nod and accepted Whinnie’s hoofbump. “I understand the Commander wishes to see us?”

“Indeed.” She turned and waved for them to follow. “Right this way, I’ll take you to his office.”

Whinnie wasted no time with words, hurrying up the stairs. The three had to trot to keep up.

“What’s the hurry?” Oak called after they passed several doors.

“Oh, sorry.” Whinnie slowed down to a more manageable speed and shot a sheepish grin over her shoulder. “I’m kinda used to moving fast.”

Fancy had no idea how many floors they passed before Whinnie finally took them through a doorway that looked like all the others. They passed through a few more halls before finally stopping at a set of double doors.

Whinnie turned to them. “Now, please keep a comfortable distance. The commander has a thing about personal space. I know it’s odd, but… well, you get used to it.”

Fancy and Oak shared curious expressions. Colonel Mander remained as stoic as ever.

Accepting their silence as acceptance, Whinnie turned and knocked on the door before opening it. “Commander, the guests have arrived.”

Fancy was the last to enter the room. The Commander’s office wasn’t particularly large or lavishly decorated. Compared to Sir Deeds’ office, it actually struck Fancy as rather humble. The desk was of a simple design of hard but common wood, the same as the bookshelves, and instead of chairs there were small cushions to lie on.

“Welcome, welcome!” The base commander, a unicorn with mottled purple coloring, stood and spread his hooves wide. “It’s not often I get to host such a distinguished guest as the great Colonel Geri Mander.”

All three saluted the commander. “Reporting for duty,” the colonel said in his typical gruff manner.

“So serious.” The commander’s smile faded a touch. “Good. Just the kind of pony we need. I am Commander Sandy Dune. I hope your trip wasn’t too uncomfortable. Please, sit. Can I get you some water?”

“That would be appreciated,” the Colonel said, sitting on one of the cushions. Oak and Fancy followed suit. “Have you heard about Celestia?”

Commander Dune’s smile disappeared. “Yes, we learned just yesterday… or rather, I assume it was yesterday.” He cast a glance at sunlight streaming through the window. “We haven’t informed the troops. As far as they know, the sun’s standing still as a warning to the dragons of her power. It was my intention not to hinder their morale.”

“They’ll know now,” Oak said with a scowl.

“And you are?”

“Captain Oak Feathers,” she replied with a quick salute. “Of the 42nd Squadron. The Red Wings are at your service.”

Commander Dune nodded. “Good to have you. We’re short of pegasi here, and I suspect your patrols will be invaluable.”

“We’ll keep a lookout,” Oak confirmed. “If the dragons head this way, we’ll know it.”

“I have no doubt.” Commander Dune’s eyes turned to Fancy. “And you must be the insane pony who survived Sueño and chose to keep fighting.”

Fancy grimaced, accepting a glass of water from Whinnie. “First Lieutenant Fancy Pants. And yes, I suppose that’s me.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” the commander hurried to add. “I’m glad you’re here. It’ll be a big boost for the soldiers.”

“I… see.”

“Is something wrong?”

Oak reached past Colonel Mander to pat Fancy’s back with a wing. “The First Lieutenant isn’t comfortable with all the rumors ponies are spreading about him.”

Commander Dune frowned and turned his attention back to Fancy. “I understand it might not be pleasant, but to many of the ponies you are something of a hero. I encourage you to embrace that, or at least take advantage of it. With Celestia out of action, the troops will need encouraging stories like yours.”

“Encouraging?” Fancy would have laughed if he weren’t so horrified. “There was nothing encouraging about Sueño, Commander. More like Tartarus unleashed.”

The commander pointed towards the nearby window. “They don’t need to know that. Just let them think what they want. It’s not going to hurt anything.”

Colonel Mander and Captain Feathers both turned to eye Fancy, who bowed his head with a long sigh. “I’m not sure I can do that, but… I will take your words into consideration.”

Colonel Mander grunted and turned back to the commander, taking a quick sip of his water. “I hope you’re not relying on him alone to encourage my ponies to defeat dragons. We need to plan.”

“But of course.” The commander clapped his hooves, and a moment later Whinnie appeared carrying a large scroll. “We can begin immediately, unless of course you want some rest.”

“No rest,” the Colonel replied firmly. “No time.”

“Very good.” Commander Dune waved to Whinnie, who began unrolling the scroll. Just as the scroll was set on the table, revealing it to be a map of the surrounding area, there came a frantic pounding on the door.

Commander Dune scowled. “See who it is.”

Whinnie rushed to the door, leaving the others to wait expectantly. Fancy turned to watch as Whinnie pushed her head through the entrance and whispered some words. A couple seconds passed, then the door opened and a pegasus limped into the room.

Fancy stood, his eyes going wide at the burns on the pegasus. In an instant, the images came back; the charred bodies, the smoke, the shrieking. The burnt smell assaulted in his nostrils, and when he tried to close his eyes he was rewarded with the sight of hundreds of floating bodies, their black faces turned to him with leering, toothy grins.

“Fancy!”

He snapped out of the reverie. Hind legs giving way, he dropped to his haunches and fought the urge to vomit. Captain Feathers was at his side, a hoof to his shoulder as she watched him. “Stay with us, First Lieutenant.”

“I’m o-okay.” He rubbed his temple and shook himself. “I’ll be fine. Just… took a hit, that’s all.”

She hesitated, her eyes set on his face, but after a moment nodded. They turned to find Whinnie helping the wounded pegasus take Oak’s cushion. She was covered in sweat and rasping, clutching her chest with gritted teeth. A glass of water floated to her, and she gulped it down.

Commander Dune’s voice was urgent, but soft. “Report, soldier. What happened?”

“D-dragon,” she said, her jaw trembling. “A dragon hit Fuegos en las Rocas.”

Colonel Mander muttered a curse. “How bad?”

The pegasus’ entire body slumped, as if the last ounce of energy had finally left her. “B-bad. I barely got out with my hide. The f-fort’s gone.”

Commander Dune leaned over his desk. “Survivors?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “The dragon was still… still there when I left.”

Fancy tried to find his hooves, but his legs wobbled so he stayed down. “What color was the dragon?”

The mare closed her eyes and shuddered. “Black. Black like… like c-coal, like a b-bucking demon.”

Oak and Fancy shared a grim frown.

Commander Dune noted their behavior, but focused his attention on the pegasus. “What’s your name, private?”

“Ala Rápida.”

“You did good, Private Rápida.” He offered her a smile. “Lieutenant Colonel Whinnie, get this soldier a hot meal and some rest. She’s earned it.”

“Of course, Commander.”

“I believe the 4th battalion was supposed to go to Fuegos en las Rocas,” Commander Dune said as she was escorted out. “They won’t arrive for at least another week.”

“There was a black dragon with Reddux at Sueño and Estéril Pezuñas,” Fancy told him. “It’s probably the same one.”

Oak nodded with a grim frown. “I can confirm that for the castle.”

Fancy turned to the commander. “At the very least this suggests that Reddux hasn’t been able to get all the dragons on his side.”

Colonel Mander sniffed and shook his head. “You’re too optimistic. We have to assume that another attack will come soon.”

“That’s fine,” Oak replied, “but why did they wait this long to attack one fort? Why not come in en masse?”

Fancy closed his eyes and shivered. “They don’t have to. One’s enough, they’ve already proven that.”

Colonel Mander scowled. “Even if the tyrant can’t get any other dragons to help him, there are already three of them. That’s long odds, First Lieutenant.”

“I know!” Fancy rubbed his forehead with both hooves. He could still smell the charred flesh. “I know that far better than you, Colonel.”

Commander Dune leaned against the desk, his eyes set on the map. “We’ll need to send a force to the fort. We can’t leave potential survivors to die.”

The colonel nodded. “Agreed. I’ll send a hundred to Fuegos en—”

“A hundred?” Commander Dune eyed the colonel. “I want you to send seven hundred.”

Colonel Mander’s eyes bulged. Captain Feathers actually launched off the floor. Fancy knew his gape rivaled theirs.

“Seven… seven hundred?” Captain Feathers swung her legs in a denying motion. “That’s more than two thirds our infantry!”

“And the 42nd will be sending a hundred fliers.”

Her legs fell limp, much like her jaw. “B-but that only leaves twenty three of us to defend the fort.”

The colonel still hadn’t managed to recover his expression. “Commander… you can’t just send our entire defensive force off to—”

“Those ponies need help, Colonel,” Commander Dune declared. “The more ponies we send, the more lives we can save and the faster the job gets done.”

Fancy finally found his voice. “But you’re sending the majority of our forces on a march across unprotected territory. If a dragon finds them, they won’t stand a chance!”

The commander rolled his eyes and pointed to Captain Feathers, who was still hovering over them. “That’s why I’m sending pegasi. Scouts to warn them should a dragon approach.”

“That’s not going to protect them!” Colonel Mander jumped to his hooves. “I protest this strategy. The risks aren’t worth the benefits. You can’t ask me to—”

Commander Dune stood up, his eyes hard. “I’m not asking you to do anything, Colonel. This is an order.”

The colonel sputtered and shook, his face burning as he struggled for some kind of response. Fancy took a cautious step back from the stallion, and Captain Feathers similarly floated away. The commander, on the other hoof, didn’t seem at all bothered by the colonel’s fury.

“You will both assign your most trusted officers to lead the troops to Fuegos en las Rocas,” he announced. “Their orders are to assist in the rescue operations, recover as many soldiers as possible and return them to Guardia del Este.”

Captain Feathers dropped to the floor on her haunches. “You mean we’re not even going with them? Those are our—”

“Are we clear, Colonel?”

Colonel Mander seethed. Fancy just knew the old veteran would leap over that desk and pound the commander. But, after several seconds of glaring and barely contained words, the colonel raised his hoof in a shaky salute, turned and stomped off.

Commander Dune raised his hoof. “I did not give you permission to—”

The door slammed closed with such force Fancy thought he heard the wood crack.

The commander scowled and looked between Fancy and Captain Feathers. His eyes turned to the map laid out before him. “Well, we can’t plan the defense without him. You’re dismissed. Hopefully the colonel will smarten up soon.

“A pity,” he muttered as Fancy and Oak shared wide-eyed looks, “I would have thought him more responsible than that.”

Author's Note

I came up with the 'hornguard' concept while writing Lightning's Bolt. The general idea is that foal unicorns have a natural 'block' that prevents them from hurting themselves by using too much magic. The hornguard wears off as they hit adolescence, theoretically because at that point the unicorn is mature enough to know when to quit. I'd already established in several of my stories that using too much magic causes headaches, and stated explicitly that overdosing on magic too often can cause permanent damage. It only made sense to me that there would be some kind of natural inhibitor to prevent this in foals.

and before anyone points it out, yes, I know it's spelled 'whinny.' The misspelling is intentional. Also, the name is a vague reference to something. We'll see if anyone can figure it out.

Little Deceptions

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter XI
Little Deceptions

Crater Lake. It glistened in the perpetual sunlight like a jewel in the desert. The outer ridge rose high above the otherwise flat and barren landscape, forming a perfect circle in which the blue waters rested in a pristine stillness.

Reddux had not witnessed the Calamity of the Skies. At the time of the event, he would not be hatched for at least another thousand years. Rumors of the cause were widespread. Legends that Princess Luna had sent down a meteor as a warning to the dragons were certifiably untrue, for neither she nor her sister had been alive at the time. Some said it was a creation of The Blight; that old fool, Parjin, believed it, so Reddux was inclined not to.

The cause of the Calamity was of little import to him; the crater was useful, and that was all he cared about.

He could see the small creatures, scurrying about like ants. They fled into the caves beneath the lake as soon as they caught sight of him. He snorted his derision; they too were beneath him, but he would put up with them… for now. They were far more palatable than ponies, and they made useful tools against the equine race.

A particularly large cave sank into on the Northern side of the lake. Reddux descended towards it, landing heavily on the dry earth. The impact of his landing sent a shard of pain up his side, but he resisted clutching his wound. He did not bother to announce his presence; he merely rested on his haunches and folded his sore wings. Within seconds, a small figure appeared from the cave. It was an Earth pony, her expression firm and unafraid. She trotted up to a small ridge and looked up at Reddux with a studious frown.

“Hail, Reddux. We were not expecting you to come here so soon.”

“Spare me your formality,” he growled. “Where is Tialvis?”

“I have sent others to inform her of your arrival,” she replied. “She should be here soon. Was there something specific you wanted?”

“No.” He scratched his chin and peered at her. “Are the eggs intact?”

The mare scowled. “You doubt our care? Of course the eggs are intact.”

He nodded. “Very good.”

The mare bared her teeth at him. “If you have no more insults for me, I will take my leave. Tialvis will be here soon.”

Reddux was tempted to cook her for being so flippant, but he let the slight go; he had to at least pretend that they had an equal share in this arrangement. For now.

The bellow of a fellow dragon arose in the distance. He turned to peer north and spotted a black dot on the horizon. He knew of only one drake that could be coming from that direction, and the thought made him smile. Even the continuous ache of his wound didn’t do much to hinder the wicked pleasure that grew within him.

“You’re back early.”

Reddux turned his attention back to the caves in time to see a green dragon’s head slithering from the darkness. She narrowed her eyes against the harsh sunlight and hissed her displeasure.

“Tialvis.” Reddux nodded respectfully. “I flew into Parjin. His words troubled me.”

Her scaled lips turned in a deep frown. “More ranting about The Voice? Why should that trouble you, or prevent you from destroying the fort as planned?”

Reddux offered a fanged grin. “What makes you think I didn’t destroy the fort?”

Tialvis turned her head to observe him with a lone eye. “Do not try to placate, Reddux. You hadn’t the time to put down the witch, destroy that fort and fly here. Given the nature of the sun, I assume you won your duel?”

“Indeed.” Reddux couldn’t resist touching the mark on his side. “Celestia proved more formidable than expected, but she is defeated nonetheless. By the time she awakens from her recovering sleep, her precious Equestria will be ashes and her subjects enslaved.”

“That is well. I—” She paused, eyes going to the skies over his shoulder. Reddux turned to find the other dragon approaching fast. The creature flared his black wings and descended, landing at Reddux’s side. “Greetings, Eruk.”

Eruk smirked at her. “Greetings, eggsitter.” He turned his eye on Reddux. “The second fort fell like kindling.”

“Of course it did,” Reddux replied. “We are dragons. Did you make the ponies suffer?”

Eruk’s fanged grin spoke volumes.

“And why have you returned, Eruk?” Tialvis peered at him. “Does all not go according to plan?”

Eruk snorted smoke in her face. “Do not insult, eggsitter. The fort has fallen and, as promised, the ponies have sent a substantial force to ‘rescue’ the survivors. There is more than enough time for me to catch them on the march.”

Tialvis’s frown deepened. “You came to gloat. Does it make you feel big, slaughtering the defenseless ponies? Do you now feel as though you have tough scales?”

Smoke rose from Eruk’s nostrils and his chest swelled. “You impudent—”

Reddux thrust an arm before him. “Ease your flame. Save it for the ponies.”

“The ponies… yes.” Eruk heaved a long breath, though his eyes remained set upon Tialvis. “Long may they suffer for what they have done.”

Reddux shot him a withering glance. “And I too would like to know why you are not out there making them suffer.”

“I only thought it would be nice to let the eggsitter know things were going according to plan.” Eruk shot another grimace at Tialvis. “Because females tend to fret.”

Tialvis tilted her head and scowled, but said nothing.

“That will do.” Reddux turned to Tialvis. “If you are satisfied, I would like to know about the work of Vermithrax.”

At the mention of that name, Tialvis flinched. She averted her gaze and shook her head. “I received word not long ago: she has failed.”

“What?” The word erupted as a bellow. Reddux’s wings flared and smoke rose from his throat. “She had but one task! Where is she?”

“Dead,” Tialvis replied, head bowed. “Sorahna’s guard tore her from the skies.”

Eruk stamped the ground, sending cracks through the dry earth. “The incompetent worm! I told you we should not have sent a female to perform such a task!”

Tialvis snorted and rolled her eyes. “It would be amusing to see you try to combat three dragons at once. Vermithrax was a mightier dragon than you shall ever be. That she failed is… troubling.”

“Troubling? It is not only troubling, it is—”

“Be silent.” Reddux pointed a talon at Eruk. “Despite my frustration, Vermithrax was truly great. Her fall means that more direct measures are needed, and I will not risk any more failures. I will go to deal with Sorahna personally. You should return to your own task.”

Eruk hunched into an aggressive pose. “Are you suggesting I cannot handle Blazen’s hatchling?”

A claw flashed forward, and Eruk’s throat was held tight in Reddux’s fist. Reddux loomed, massive and mighty compared to his companion.

“I am suggesting you do your job.” He breathed smoke into Eruk’s sneer. “If you want the castle for yourself, you will get back out there and slaughter that pony army.” He shoved Eruk back, nearly toppling him to the ground.

Eruk stood, rubbing his neck with a grimace. “I will bring down that castle, and the murderer who resides within. I am owed that much.”

Reddux stood tall and flared his wings. “You are owed what I say you are owed. You will earn nothing if I return and that fort still stands.”

Wings creating powerful gusts, Eruk rose into the sky. He hovered over the lake and shook his fist at the two dragons beneath him. “So be it, Reddux! But do not think you can stop me from burning the dragonslayer.” He flew off, wings beating furiously as he roared his frustration.

Tialvis moved a little farther out of the cave, her scaled neck stretching out in the sunlight as she watched Eruk’s flight. “His anger is too great. He will make mistakes.”

“He has a right to be angry,” Reddux replied with a sigh. “The murder of his mate weighs heavily upon him.”

She eyed him, her expression impassive. “Why do you not let him attack the castle now? Why wait?”

“Do not feign ignorance,” Reddux grumbled. “You know as well as I that Celestia sleeps within the castle. She must be kept alive until I have aligned the hoards with our cause, or else they may challenge us. Besides,” he added with a fanged grin, “our friends cannot get what they want if she is dead.”

A grimace formed on her lips. “They scurry about like ants. Were I not needed here, I would have nothing to do with them.”

“Patience, my friend.” Reddux rubbed his burn as he studied her. “We may need to crush another egg or two, for the sake of persuasion.”

Her lips pulled back, revealing her sharp fangs. “You would kill more of our unborn?”

“A last resort, I assure you.” He raised his claws in a calming gesture. “I would not make such sacrifices were it not necessary. I go to kill Sorahna. If the hoards are still hesitant, another egg or two may be the boulder that breaks the drake’s back.”

She hissed and pulled back so only her glittering eyes were visible to him. “I am here to protect the future of our glorious rule, and you would speak of sacrifice. These unhatched ones are the beginnings of a new age, Reddux, and I will be their mother. Remember that before suggesting such things to me again!”

Reddux took a step back, but his expression grew hard. “Do not let such petty sentiments stand in the way of what must be done, Tialvis. The new age will not happen at all if we cannot convince the majority of the hoards to join us.”

A roar shook the caves and fire spewed from Tialvis’ throat, striking the ground before her and forming a great pire between them. She glared through the flames with a deep growl.

“Go, Reddux! Face your pretty little wyrmling. Yet if you come here to threaten these eggs again, I will see you torn from the skies! They are mine, and you will not lay one claw upon them.”

Reddux bared his fangs, but let her go; he would not undo the fragile alliance formed with the aged drake. Once the ponies had been enslaved and the hoards were under his command, perhaps then he would remind her that her ‘children’ were also his army, and thus his to do with as he pleased.

Yet her words echoed in his mind. He rubbed his chin in consideration. ‘Pretty little wyrmling,’ was it? There were other ways to lay claim to the hoard of Blazen and the title of First Fang.

Perhaps Sorahna could be of better use… alive.

Fleur had been lost in thought, her eyes on her trudging hooves. As such, she failed to notice that Fine had stopped walking until her horn poked unpleasantly into his flank. She winced and found herself staring at his cutie mark: a reared back pony. It was practically invisible amongst the splotches of his mottled coat.

He turned to her, his lips turned up in the slightest of smiles. That alone was enough to warrant her attention.

“I think it’s time we got a little practice in.”

She frowned at this statement. “Practice?”

Fine sidestepped and gestured: before them stood a veritable forest of rocks and crags. “We’ve got to go through this. Seems like as good a place as any.”

The pale, orange landscape formed something of a wall, making it impossible to know how far they extended. Fleur had heard of the Deadland Spikes, but never thought she’d get the chance to see them.

She turned to Fine. “So… what exactly are we practicing?”

His smile broadened a touch. “Hide and Seek.”

It took a moment to lift her jaw off the ground. “You mean you want to play a foal’s game?”

“My favorite foal’s game,” he corrected, tapping her on the muzzle. “I’ll even give you the choice: hide or seek?”

She wrinkled her nose and rubbed it. “You don’t strike me as the type to play these sorts of games, Fine.”

He leaned in close, his eyes going sharp. She took a step back, ears folding at his abruptly stern manner.

“Hiding, Fleur. It’s what I do. It’s what I earned my cutie mark for.” He gestured to the crags and rocks before them. “This isn’t just a game; knowing how to go unnoticed is the best way to preserve your life. In short,” he offered another wry smile, “this is exactly why you wanted to follow me in the first place.”

She glanced at the Deadland Spikes uncertainly… then let out a small gasp. Her wide eyes locked with his and she felt her heart flutter. “Hide. I want to hide first.”

“As I thought.” His horn lit up and something rose from one of his packs. It was a compass, which he offered to her. “Use this to continue south. You’ve got thirty minutes from the moment I lose sight of you. After that, I’m going on the prowl.” He smirked as she eagerly grabbed the compass in her magic. “Let’s see how long you last.”

Before she could stop herself, she jumped forward to hug him. He stiffened at her touch and she felt the burn in her cheeks. Then she left, hurrying into the Deadland Spikes with a grin.

At last, she would learn something practical!

The mood at Guardia del Este was a somber one. Fancy watched as the army marched west, away from the protection of solid walls. Above them, a small cloud of pegasi flew in tight formation. He wondered just how many of those ponies would be coming back. There was always the chance that they wouldn’t be set upon by Reddux and his ilk… but the thought wasn’t at all comforting.

Colonel Mander stood to Fancy’s left, his face as stoic as ever. He put on a good show, but Fancy could see out of the corner of his eye that there was some red in the old veteran’s cheeks.

To his right stood Captain Feathers, her face set in a deep frown as she watched her squadron depart without her. Her body heaved and her lip trembled, the fire in her eyes as dangerous as any weapon.

“This is absurd,” she whispered for the thousandth time. “Totally absurd.”

Fancy looked over his shoulder at the fort grounds. It seemed so very empty compared to how it had been a few hours ago. He looked back to the departing forces and ground his teeth, a distraction against the lead in his gut.

“Don’t worry,” Whinnie said as she passed behind them, on her way to the stairs. “They’ll be fine. The Commander knows what he’s doing.”

Fancy watched her leave with a scowl before turning his eye on the keep. He wondered if Commander Dune was even bothering to watch.

As soon as Whinnie was out of earshot, Oak let out a quiet curse. “‘Knows what he’s doing’ my flank.”

Fancy sighed and nodded. “I don’t know how he expects us to hold the fort now.”

“We can’t.”

They looked to Colonel Mander. It was the first time he’d spoke in a long while.

He let out a deep breath through his nostrils, his hard eyes still locked on his troops. “The Commander’s defense strategy is amateur. He’s amateur.”

“Agreed,” Oak grumbled. “Even the First Lieutenant here could tell this plan’s a deathtrap.”

Fancy ignored the small jab, his mind instead going over Commander Dune’s plans. “Grouping defenders together on the walls… Utter foalishness. A dragon would kill every pony on the line in a single pass.”

“It’s like he has no idea what dragons are capable of,” Oak agreed, flapping her wings.

“I don’t think he does.” Fancy sat on the hot stone battlement and shook his head. “He wasn’t at Estéril Pezuñas.”

“Neither was I,” the colonel growled. He looked Fancy in the eye. “Do you know what the real problem is?”

Fancy and Oak shared raised eyebrows.

“Peace is the problem.” Colonel Mander turned his glare west once more. “Equestria has around three hundred ponies in its citizenry who have seen live combat. Of those, less than a hundred are still in the armed forces. Academy geniuses like the commander think they know all about war because they read a bunch of damn books, but they know minotaur dung.

“Peace has made Equestria soft.” He stiffened his shoulders and sneered. “Peace has made us vulnerable. None of the ponies in the command structure know anything about battle. They haven’t seen the blood, known the confusion or struggled to hold a line. Everything is by the book and designed to avoid offending anypony. Commander Dune is sending soldiers to Fuegos en las Rocas because he’s thinking in terms of political correctness. He can’t help it. It’s all he knows.”

Oak ruffled her feathers with a grim frown. “Well, what are we supposed to do about it?”

“Whatever we can,” he replied.

The two grew silent. Fancy glanced from one to the other, then turned his attention south. He thought of Fleur and all she’d told him. Why would she head into the Badlands with that stallion? He closed his eyes and recalled seeing her standing in her uncle’s office, dressed like a doll. The image sent a shiver down his spine.

It’s only by breaking rules that I can keep out of Deeds’ hooves.

Breaking the rules…

Fancy turned to stare down at the fort’s courtyard. There were so few soldiers, and their plan of defense was so horrible. If they followed orders they would all die, of this Fancy had no doubt.

There were many things that Fancy didn’t like about his father, but if there was anything Bright Plume was it was decent. Fancy learned his way by watching him. The old stallion followed the rules and treated other ponies fairly, even if that fairness was through a screen of elitist values. The one thing Fancy was grateful to have inherited was his father’s sense of decency.

You really are a good stallion. I wish I’d had somepony like you to take care of me all these years.

A small smile curled his lips.

The only way you can help me is by breaking the rules. Don’t do that, Fancy, please. I don’t think you’d be so good if you did, and I like you as you are.

“I won’t change, Fleur,” he whispered. “That’s a promise.” He turned around to face west once more.

“We break the rules.”

Oak glanced at him. “What was that?”

He turned to her, jaw set. “That’s what we can do about it: we break the rules.”

Colonel Mander peered at him but remained silent.

Oak considered Fancy with a frown. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Commander Dune’s plan is suicide. We three, we know that.” He turned to the colonel. “So let’s not follow that plan.”

“You want to defy his orders?” Colonel Mander asked, his tone neutral.

“Yes.” Fancy waved to the departing army. “We’ve lost most of our arms. We need to adjust our strategy in a way that makes sense. If the commander can’t be made to see reason – and we spent several hours learning that he can’t – then we should act behind his back.”

Oak glanced towards the keep, then moved so she was beside the two of them. Her voice was reduced to a whisper. “That’s risky. I get the feeling Whinnie is the commander’s little yes-mare. She figures out what we’re up to, we’ll be reported.”

“Who are the soldiers going to obey?” Fancy nodded towards the colonel. “An academy commander who hides in his cool sanctuary all the time, or the stallion who led them here and survived the Selene River incident?”

The colonel shook his head. “It’s not that simple. The soldiers under my command would support me, but don’t count on the fort’s guards. We could end up with a fight on our hooves. We outnumber them three to one, but it’s still a fight we can’t afford.”

Fancy sighed and nodded. “I suppose that’s true.”

“But we have to do something,” Captain Feathers said. “Fancy’s right, the current strategy is suicide.”

They drifted into contemplative silence. Fancy kept glancing at the keep, wondering why Commander Dune refused to come out. He didn’t even bother to see the soldiers off…

“Fancy.”

He blinked and looked to Colonel Mander, who leveled him with a hard frown. “You’re a First Lieutenant. That makes you the highest ranking unicorn under the commander.”

“True,” Oak said, “except his little stooge, Whinnie.”

Fancy raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes, so?”

Colonel Mander was rubbing his chin and studying Fancy. “You also survived Sueño.”

He flinched. “Can we not make a big deal out of that?”

“A ‘big deal’ is exactly what we need,” the colonel countered.

Oak patted Fancy’s shoulder. “Let’s not forget that you stood alone to face Reddux on the beach and lived. That’s big stuff.”

“And your firm loyalty to Celestia is no secret,” Colonel Mander concluded.

A small smile appeared on Oak’s face. “Not to mention the rumors that it may be more than loyalty.”

Fancy turned on her with a snarl. “Would you ponies stop suggesting that? For the love of the sun, I am not interested in Celestia romantically! Celestia is our benefactor, our protector and our guide! She is not a flashy runway model to be ogled, she is a leader to be respected and loved! If I have to hear somepony disrespect my devotion to her one more time—”

Colonel Mander thrust his leg out, pushing Fancy back. “Calm down, First Lieutenant. Nopony’s trying to disrespect you.”

Fancy snorted in his face. “It sure as Tartarus feels like it.”

Oak had recoiled at Fancy’s outburst, but now she stepped forward and set a hoof to his shoulder. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Fancy. I was just reminding you of the rumors.”

“I wish the rumors would bucking stop.” He shook his head and crossed his forelegs. “How did it ever get to the point that loyalty is misconstrued as lust?”

“Get over it.” The colonel pressed a hoof to Fancy’s chest. “And fast. You’re our key to making this work.”

“What?” Fancy blinked and gave the stallion a hard look. “Not long ago you were telling the commander not to rely on me for the defense of this place.”

Colonel Mander nodded. “And I stand by that, in a technical sense. But everypony knows your story, First Lieutenant. To many ponies, you’re already a war hero.”

“You didn’t support that idea, either.”

Oak rolled her eyes. “Fancy, would you shut up and listen? We can use you to do what we need to do.”

He shot her a glower. “How?”

Colonel Mander stuck his chin towards the keep. “You were right, the only way we stand a chance is if we break the rules. We have to defy Commander Dune and train the troops in a proper defensive strategy.”

“But they have to be willing to defy the commander and not spill the beans.” Oak gestured to Fancy. “That’s where you come in. You survived two dragon attacks. Everypony knows who you are. If you tell them this needs to be done, they’ll do it.”

Fancy blushed and glanced down at the courtyard, his gaze passing over the soldiers. It was true, he’d heard more than a few whispers about him as he passed the other soldiers. Even so, “I think you’re overestimating my influence.”

“Only one way to find out,” Oak said.

The colonel gave a firm nod. “As of right now, you’re in charge of all the unicorns in the 8th, and any unicorn guards who join us.”

“I am?” Fancy gaped at him. “But… I’ve never lead a unit before.”

“Learn as you go,” Colonel Mander said with a grunt. “Besides, all my best officers are gone with the main army, so you’re my best bet anyway.”

Oak thrust a hoof between the two stallions, effectively catching their attention. “Whoa there, boys, we actually have to have a strategy before we can go telling everypony in the fort to follow it.”

“Oh, right.” Fancy looked from Oak to the colonel and back. “You two would probably be better at that than me.”

“You’re not getting out of it that easily,” Colonel Mander said. “You’ve got more experience with dragons than either of us. We’ll need that knowledge to develop our plan.”

Fancy flinched. “I’m… not sure what help I’ll be.”

“Any help is better than none,” Oak reminded him, her voice firm. “Come on, Fancy, stop acting so coy. You saw the dragons fighting at the walls of Sueño. Think about how they did it and help us come up with some kind of counter.”

Fancy closed his eyes. He could see the dragons assaulting the city, the fire and the smoke. The wails were like ghosts in his ears. He shivered at the memory.

He felt a hoof on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find that it belonged to the colonel. For just a moment, Fancy thought Tartarus may have just frozen over; the commander’s face had softened to a calm smile.

“I don’t know if we can defend this fort,” the colonel said, “but with your help, we might stand a chance.”

Oak mimicked the colonel’s gesture, her hoof set on Fancy’s other shoulder. “We’re with you this time, Fancy.”

I want you to enjoy my sunrise a few thousand more times.

He glanced towards the sun. His chest swelled as he took in a deep, calming breath. Though he was sweating, for the moment Fancy took comfort in the heat.

He would see the sun rise again.

“All right.” He set a hoof on each of theirs and gave a firm nod. “Let’s get started.”

Fleur knew she’d been caught. She’d known for some time. Yet despite this, Fine had refused to ‘catch’ her. It was baffling, and just a little unnerving.

She was surrounded by a veritable forest of crags. Walking was difficult and she had to keep an eye on her hooves to keep from tripping over any sharp rocks. Every now and then she would look around, wondering if she’d see Fine Crime. On rare occasion she’d spot his black tail disappearing amongst the red stone, and he was never there whenever she would investigate. It was almost as if he’d reversed their roles so that he was hiding.

He was like a ghost, ever within the peripheral of her vision but never there when she looked. Sometimes she would feel her mane or tail shift, as if something had brushed against them, but when she looked there was no sign of a cause. The worst of it was the whispers; they were never quite loud enough to be audible, and sometimes she wondered if she’d actually heard it or merely imagined it.

Fine was toying with her. At first she’d been confused, then impressed.

Now she was just annoyed.

She pulled the compass from one of her bags and examined it. It seemed she’d moved a little to the east. Turning south, she proceeded amongst the tall rocks that obscured the horizon.

Her tail shifted unbidden. Grinding her teeth, Fleur moved forward and refused to acknowledge the contact. She traveled on, her eyes shifting between the compass and her hooves. South, just keep going south.

Her ear twitched to a sound on her right. She ignored it.

It dawned on her that her breath was coming in heavy pants. She glanced at the sun, but knew it had nothing to do with the heat. Lips curled in a sneer, she refocused her attention and kept walking.

Minutes passed in silence.

Something tugged on her mane.

“Would you just stop it?” She turned about, scanning the openings between the stones with a snarl. “I know you’re out there. I know you found me ages ago. I’ve had enough of this stupid game!”

A new sound hit her ears. It was a slow, quiet grinding. It lasted for about a second. It started up again, stopped. Started again, stopped.

Fleur turned circles, trying to determine where the sound was coming from. “Come on, Fine, that’s enough.”

The sound didn’t stop. It was almost rhythmic.

She paused, her eyes set on an opening between two tall crags. There was something between them… like a shadow that didn’t belong. She smirked. “Got ya.”

The grinding sound kept coming, seeming to arise from all over. Fleur approached the shadow between the rocks… but then slowed. The shadow was growing darker.

“Fine?” She cocked her head as the darkness intensified. What was this?

Suddenly the grinding sound didn’t seem so trivial. Fleur could feel the fur on her back standing on end. The grinding grew louder.

She began to walk backwards. There was something in that darkness, a powerful presence pushing her back. Fleur forced herself to take slow, steady breaths to keep her heart from pounding too much.

The grinding rose in volume.

“Fine… if this is some kind of… of trick…”

The grinding stopped.

The darkness was perfectly still.

Fleur held her breath, legs taught and teeth clenched.

Something cool and sharp pressed against her throat.

“You’re dead.”

Fleur shouted and leapt away, only to shout again as she tripped over the rocks. She saw the sharp edge of a stone swiftly rising to meet the side of her face and closed her eyes tightly.

Nothing.

“Make that double dead.”

Fleur opened an eye; the jagged rock was an inch away. She could just barely make out the red glow of Fine’s magic holding her face above it. The rest of her body lay in the dirt. She jerked to her hooves to find Fine watching her with a small, dark smile, his knife swaying.

Her horn sparked and she leveled him with a glare. “What the buck was that? You could have killed me with that stunt!”

His smile broadened a touch. “Twice.”

“Why are you smiling?” She pointed at the rock by her hooves. “I could have had that in my skull!”

“I’m a professional,” he replied, turning to walk past her. “I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

She raised a hoof. “Wait! What about—” She looked towards the two rocks from earlier, but there was no sign of the oppressive shadow. “What?”

“An illusion I conjured up to scare you.”

She gawked, then clamped her jaw closed and followed with a sulking frown. “I thought we were playing ‘hide and seek.’”

“We were.”

She thrust her hooves in the air. “But you found me an hour ago!”

“Two, by my estimate.”

Fleur blinked and stared at the back of his head. Minding her hooves, she hurried to walk alongside him. “You mean you knew I knew?” He nodded. “Then why not just ‘kill’ me and be done with it?”

“Practice,” he replied with a smile.

That was when it hit her: he’d been having fun. Truly. The very idea that he could have fun left her speechless.

“There’s more to this than just hiding,” he continued, apparently not noticing her reaction. “There’s deception, mind games, manipulation. Finding you is one thing; scaring you is another.”

“I would have appreciated a warning,” she grumbled.

“That’s not how the world works.” He suddenly grew somber. “Just because somepony tells you something is going to happen, that doesn’t mean it will. Learn how to pick out the truths from the lies.”

She stared at him for a couple seconds, taking this in. Was he… trying to teach her?

“You should have already known that,” he added, shooting her a raised eyebrow. “Is it really any different from how you tricked me into thinking you were feeble in order to get that tracking spell on me? By the way, I now know it’s worn off.”

Her jaw dropped. “What? How did you know?”

“If it was still working, you’d have detected me earlier and moved to keep your distance.”

Her cheeks burned. “Oh… I guess it was obvious, huh?”

They passed between some rocks, and when she followed Fine’s turn Fleur found herself looking at their tent, already hitched in the shade on a particularly tall crag. She gaped at it, wondering how Fine had found time to set up camp before seeking her out.

Noticing her expression, Fine regained his smirk. “What? I’m good.”

Another blush. “And modest,” she grumbled.

“That too.” He sat beside the tent and, using his magic, pulled out the bread bag. “You hungry?”

She nodded, and he tossed her a small chunk of a loaf. She caught it with her magic, then held it in her hooves. She studied the bread for a moment before glancing at him. He still wore a slight smile. “You… really enjoy your work, don’t you?”

Fine gave her a curious look, his eyes shifting in thought. “I… sometimes. It depends on which part I’m doing.”

“Which part?”

He studied his own piece of bread in silence, taking a bite as he thought. Upon swallowing, he said, “I think I’ve figured out your weakness.”

She cocked her head, not bothering to speak through the bread in her mouth.

“You’re good at deception,” he said, “but you’re not very good at being on the receiving end.”

“Is that what that was?” she asked. “A test?”

He nodded, his eyes glazed over in thought. “We need to fix that. I can help you learn a few spells, but learning to know when somepony’s trying to trick you is a entirely different matter. No spell can make that easier.”

Fleur considered this, and him. Hiding, gathering information, going on clandestine missions… “Fine, are you a spy?”

He blinked, mouth half-open over a chunk of bread. His eyes locked with hers as he slowly chewed. It wasn’t his usual peering, cautious expression, but it was contemplative and curious. At last he swallowed and replied, “I’m not sure if I should answer that question just yet.”

She leaned forward. “Why?”

“Because… I don’t know how far this is going to go.” He rubbed the back of his head. “In my business, we sometimes take on apprentices, but I’m not sure you and I will go that far.”

“Me? An apprentice?” She gawked. “But I thought you said you didn’t want any.”

“And I’m still not sure that I do,” he admitted with a shrug. “But you’re already here, I’ve already agreed to teach you… a little, and I have to admit that you show promise.”

Her ears perked and a smile came unbidden to her lips. “Really?”

He winced and glanced away with a scowl. “Yeah, really. At the same time, I have to weigh other considerations, such as how I’d really rather be working alone.”

She sniffed, put off by his sudden change in mood. “I know that feeling.”

Fine shot her a dark, pondering look. “I need to figure out if you’re trustworthy, get a better grasp of your goals. Normally I’d also suggest that you’re too young, but I don’t think that matters in this case.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why? Because I’m so capable?”

His expression didn’t change in the slightest. “Because you’ve already been through so much.”

Fleur flinched and bowed her head, a distinct burning in her heart. She thought on her life, knowing full well that it was anything but ‘normal.’ Perhaps that was playing in her favor now, but—

That thought gave her pause. ‘Playing in her favor?’

Did she actually like the idea of becoming Fine’s apprentice? That was ridiculous; she didn’t even know for certain what it was he did, except have a general knack for sneakiness and brooding. Even so, she couldn’t deny the thrill she felt at the idea.

Her ears perked to a scratching sound. She looked to find her companion writing in a small notebook. Every now and then his eyes would go to the stone forest surrounding them, only to drop back to the paper intently.

Fleur considered walking around to look over his shoulder, but he was leaning back against one of the tall stones. She’d never be able to manage it without being obvious to the point of rudeness.

“What are you writing?”

His eyes didn’t leave the notebook. “Description.”

“Description?”

“Of the area.” He paused to consider the stones once more before going back to his writing. “I’ve never seen the Deadland Spikes. I want to preserve their description and my impression of them for later.”

Fleur turned in a circle, trying to see what was so interesting about a bunch of rocks. True, they were a rather well known – if rarely visited – landmark, but she’d grown out of her fascination of them pretty early on. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Just in case.” He shrugged. “I might decide to write a scene in a story that takes place here.”

“A… story.”

At last he clapped the notebook closed with a satisfied smile. Noting her bemused frown, he coughed and swiftly pushed the notebook into his pack. Was he actually blushing? “What? Everypony needs a hobby.”

She took a step closer. “Can I see?”

Fine pressed his hoof over the pack and eyed her. “I don’t think so.”

With a hmmph, Fleur jerked her head away and scowled. “I was just curious.”

“It’s not rea—” Fine paused, his eyes going to the pack. He looked from it to her, then back again. A slow smile crept across his face. “A new test.”

She shot him an uncertain look but said nothing.

Fine patted his pack. “You want to see what’s in the notebook?”

“Maybe.” Fleur shifted and glanced away with a frown. “Maybe it’s not worth the time.”

“We shall see.” He raised the pack in his magic to display it to her. “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to read my notebook.”

Fleur gained a deadpan frown. “What?”

He smirked and made a show of setting the pack over his shoulder. “That means either stealing the notebook or finding a way to read it over my shoulder.”

She scoffed. “That’s your test? You’re joking, right?”

“We’ll see how much you smile when you try to do it for the first time,” he countered smugly, patting the pack once more. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m tired. I think it’s time to get some sleep. You want me in the tent this time or no?”

The blood rushed to Fleur’s cheeks and she pawed the hard ground with a pout. “I’m not a little filly. I can sleep outside for a change. You take the tent.”

“Not a chance.” He shook his head. “There’s no way I’m letting you do that, little miss.”

“What are you going to do, force me into the tent?”

“Not at all.” He settled down in the shade by the tent and rested his head on his pack. “If you want to sleep out here, fine, but I’m not going to sleep in there when I know there’s a young lady who could be doing so.”

She bristled at his manner. “Is that supposed to be endearing?”

He opened a single eye to peer at her, but only for a second. “You can interpret it however you want, just do it quietly.”

She crossed her hooves with a haughty sniff and waited, but Fine didn’t move. Her eyes went to the tent, then to the hot sun. At least from inside it would be darker. She considered her options, now glancing from the sun to the tent to Fine. She felt a fire boiling in the back of her mind, and promptly went to rest in the shade of a nearby rock.

She’d prove that she didn’t need his special treatment.

Author's Note

The next chapter will offer a bit of a history lesson, and also clarify certain... issues.

Upon rereading this scene, I found I didn't care so much for the section involving Fancy. It feels... clipped. But I'm out of time and won't bother to fix it; I'll just jot it down as something to keep an eye on in future chapters.

Moustaches to those who can know were I got the name Vermithrax from... without looking it up!

Of The Past

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter XII
Of The Past

The construction crew pounding on Hoofknife’s head was growing unbearable. He walked slowly through the halls of Estéril Pezuñas, grumbling to himself and ignoring the curious glances of the ponies he passed. Sweat glistened on his body as the sun’s oppressive heat continued to boil the interior of the castle. He would have given just about anything for a breath of cool air.

His mind kept going to his investigation, over and over again. Countless hours he’d been studying this city, aware that there was something going on just under the surface. Always the truth eluded him. Worse, he couldn’t even be certain the tiny clues he’d been chasing had any bearing on the dragons and their reasons for coming to Equestria.

There had to be something, for the dragons hadn’t properly invaded. Even if Celestia was right and the politics of the hoards kept all the dragons from attacking, why would those loyal to Reddux not come? They burned a fort, but that was small potatoes compared to what they could do.

Something was holding Reddux back, and Hoofknife had to find out what that something was.

He grimaced as his migraine throbbed. He needed to relax, and he knew of an easy way to do that. The still-sleeping Celestia wouldn’t mind if he basked in her presence for a little while.

The hall leading to Celestia’s chambers was heavily guarded. Hoofknife didn’t care for Royal Guards; though commendably loyal, they were too direct in their thinking. Their automatic response to just about any threat to the crown was to smash it. No finesse at all. Hoofknife walked past the numerous guards, all of whom watched him pass with impassive glares.

“Halt,” the Captain of the Guard growled as Hoofknife approached the door. “Nopony enters.”

Hoofknife raised an eyebrow and produced a small scroll from his coat pocket. He unfurled and held it before the captain, who didn’t lose his scowl as he read. After a few seconds of study, the captain sighed and thrust his head towards the door. “Go on, then.”

The scroll was replaced, and Hoofknife reminded himself to thank the Archons’ forger for doing such a good job with Sir Deeds’ signature. He pushed his way into the room, sucking in a deep breath as the cool air hit him.

Pausing to ensure the captain wouldn’t follow him, Hoofknife waited for the door to close. Sunlight streamed through the window, yet the air seemed still. He glanced around at the mostly empty place, which was adorned only by the large bed against the wall. The air felt cool here, almost cold, and made his sweat chill his entire body.

He approached the bed, breathless as he gazed upon Celestia’s sleeping form. Only her head could be seen from beneath the sheets, resting upon a large pillow with her mane partially covering her face. His heart thrummed in his chest; he desperately wanted to shift that mane and see her full beauty.

Hoofknife stood there for some time, just staring at her. He shoulders gradually began to sag, his breathing normalized, and the questions floating through his head went away. For the first time in what seemed like ages, he felt peaceful. A small smile curled upon his lips as he reminded himself that this – she – made it all worth it.

It was some time before he noticed. Everything was still. Perfectly, quietly still. At first he thought it just a trick of the mind, but as he continued to gaze upon his beloved princess, he started to fidget and wonder. His eyes left Celestia and roamed the room, seeking out the source of his uncertainty. Plain stone walls, dust floating in the rays of sunlight from the window, normal stone floor. Everything just as it should be. He examined every corner of the room, running in a circle with peering eyes.

His gaze fell upon Celestia once more. Nothing, there was nothing in here.

So why did he still feel so uncomfortable?

His eyes narrowed. He leaned forward to study the princess. Slowly, he walked around the bed until he was sitting next to her face, which he scrutinized. There was nothing off; Celestia proved every bit as beautiful as he remembered. So why did he…

Slowly, he raised his hoof. He let it rest on the bed just before her muzzle and waited.

Nothing.

He sucked in a sharp breath as understanding finally dawned upon him.

Celestia wasn’t breathing.

She wasn’t moving at all.

Hoofknife thought his heart might have stopped. His shaking hoof moved closer to touch her face and brush her still mane aside. He paused.

Her mane felt… wrong. He had touched it before – in a moment of curiosity she’d reluctantly indulged – and he remembered that sensation for the rest of his days. It had been like touching cool air, or perhaps water with less presence? But this… this felt like silk.

Hoofknife’s breathing normalized. He took a closer look, abruptly not so worried about invading personal space. He examined Celestia’s mane and saw that it was still multihued… but that made no sense. She’d told him years ago that her mane had originally been pink. If she had died, wouldn’t it have reverted back to its old color?

His eye went to the door, but he kept his mouth shut. He had to be certain first. All his pent up emotions shoved aside, he began to analyze and study the situation as best he could. He suddenly wished he had Fine Crime back; that stallion could solve mysteries with a skill that was almost frightening.

Bending over, he touched at Celestia’s cheek, then her throat. She felt warm. Granted, her death could have been recent, but Hoofknife’s instincts told him otherwise. He’d been around more than his fair share of dead bodies, and this entire situation was wrong. He could only come to one conclusion:

This was not Celestia.

So what was it? An enchanted mannequin? A body double made to look like her? Could it be simply a magical creation?

So where was Celestia?

A hint of alarm tried to press into his mind, but Hoofknife fought it down and forced himself to focus. Yet he didn’t fight down the anger. It boiled within him, sending a cold shiver up his body. Either Celestia had some special scheme in mind that excluded him, or somepony had stolen her away.

She could even be dead for real. That thought dragged a low, long growl from his throat.

If somepony had stolen Celestia away under his watch, he would make them pay with their souls.

Fleur’s head was low, but it had nothing to do with the heat. She glared at the pack that bounced rhythmically from Fine’s side, her mind focused on the notebook within. She moved quietly, trying to control her breathing, moving her legs fluidly to minimize noise. She’d been coming gradually closer for almost an hour, but still she didn’t light her horn. A glance towards Fine’s face showed he wasn’t paying her any mind, his attention on the surrounding crags.

Closer.

Closer.

Just a tiny, tiny bit closer.

Carefully, she began to work the magic. The glow of her horn came gradually as she manipulated the spell, chewing her lip as the tiniest of magical hums reached her ears. The pack began to open. Fine made no attempt to stop it. Fleur’s breath was locked in her chest, her heart pounded with the taste of victory…

A loaf of bread rose from the pack.

She came to a stop, staring at the loaf for several seconds with her jaw loose. Her brain scrambled for a solution.

“Looking for something?”

She looked to Fine, who was watching her with a smug smile. “I moved it to another pack when you weren’t looking.”

She let out something that wasn’t quite a shout, nor a growl, but somewhere in between. She stomped a few times and snorted, tossing the bread at him. “I knew I had it this time!”

Fine caught the loaf in his magic, laughing at her frustration. “Keep trying, little miss. You’re going to have to be a lot sneakier than that.”

She raised a hoof threateningly. “I am going to get that notebook, Fine Crime, and when I do, I am going to rip it to shreds!”

“First you gotta figure out which pack I hid it in,” he replied with a smirk, turning to resume his walk. “Good luck, there’s only a dozen of them. Of course, you could always admit defeat.”

“Never.” She stomped after him. “You will not win, do you hear me?”

He still had that frustrating grin by the time she was beside him. “I like your attitude, little miss.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“I’ll call you whatever I want, little miss.”

She let out a growl and glared at her hooves. “Do you have to make it so frustrating?”

“Permit a stallion his amusement.” He sped up to a trot. “I don’t get it much.”

“What, amusement?”

He coughed and glanced away. “Look, we’re almost out of the Deadline Spikes.”

Fleur watched him, her frustration fading to a mere background noise. He avoided eye contact and kept his eyes locked on the horizon, where the end of the crags could at last be seen. He’d lost his mirth already, his face locked in a grim frown.

Not for the first time, Fleur had to wonder just what kind of a life he really led.

They continued in silence, both preoccupied with their thoughts. Fleur looked towards the horizon, where the crags slowly faded into lifeless, endless orange and red plains. She wilted a little at the sight, knowing she would miss the cool shade of the rocks when she slept. Thrice they’d camped within the stones, and it had become very clear that the crags were more a blessing than a burden.

They’d had plenty of time for hide and seek, too. They always ended the same way: with Fleur ‘dead’ and Fine smug. She didn’t begrudge her failures, for Fine always ended the games with helpful advice. It was a shame they wouldn’t be able to play anymore.

Perhaps more for him than for her.

The rocks were much smaller and farther apart when she at last spoke up. “Fine, do you have any friends?”

He snorted. “Can’t afford them.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I’m just as likely to kill them as I am to say ‘hello.’”

She rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a dodge to me. And I suppose you feel you might kill me?”

“The thought’s occurred to me.”

She came to an abrupt stop, eyes going wide. “What?”

Fine kept walking, head held high. “There are things you haven’t figured out yet, Fleur. You’re going to realize those things eventually, it’s inevitable, and when you do you might just regret following me.”

Fleur gaped at him, then shook her head to clear it. She caught up at a trot, ears low as she studied his hard face. “And… when exactly will I be finding these things out?”

He glanced at the sun. “Without any reliable way to tell time, I can’t be sure. Once three weeks have rolled by, it’ll start.”

“What will start?”

“You’ll see.”

She chewed her lip, unable to look away from his hard face. “Would you… would you really try to kill me?”

“The effective phrase,” he replied with a solemn glance, “is ‘try not to kill you.’ Don’t worry, Fleur; I’m pretty good at controlling the urge.”

Fleur huffed a nervous giggle. “I get it. This is another joke, a trick made to unnerve me.” She raised her head and smiled. “Nice try, Fine, but I’m starting to learn your methods.”

He offered a strange smile. “And what about you? No friends, I presume?”

“I haven’t had time for them,” she admitted, her smile fading fast. “At the castle I was only allowed to meet with ponies who were in on Deeds’ behavior. Once I ran away, I spent all my time trying to not starve to death.”

“Figured as much.”

She glowered at him, but then her expression softened. “Perhaps you and I could give it a try?”

“And now you’re rhyming with such curious timing.” He snorted. “Don’t count on it.”

“You don’t even want to try?”

He eyed her with a quizzical frown. “I’m surprised you do.”

“I just—”

For just an instant, the world grew darker. Fleur’s heart became cold as ice as the sound of great wings reached her ears. There was a thunderous crunch, the cracked ground rippling under the weight of something massive that landed just behind them. Fleur spun about, her short cry echoing in the open emptiness as a golden dragon stood before them, its glazed eyes set upon her.

Before she knew what was happening, Fleur found herself cowering behind Fine, her head buried beneath her legs and his tail. Her throat was dry, her entire body trembled. Screams resounded in her ears and the scent of burning flesh filled her nostrils. The flames were licking at her coat again, forcing tears from her tightly closed eyes.

Something shook her. She screamed and tried to flee. The only thing that ran through her brain was an endless, streaming cacophony of I don’t want to die!

“Fleur!”

Everything came to a stop. Fine Crime was holding her by the shoulders, his alarmed, rosewood eyes gazing into hers. “It’s okay, Fleur. You’re all right.”

“F… F-Fine? What…” She heard the deep breaths and looked over his shoulder. The dragon was still there, watching her with a solemn frown.

The panic rose again, a tiny cry rising from her throat as she tried to pull herself away. Fine held her firmly, pressing her into a tight hug.

“It’s okay, Fleur. It’s okay.”

“…eat us. H-he’s gonna… Run. W-we need to…”

The ancient dragon raised a single great claw in a calming gesture. “Please be at ease, young one. I am not here to harm you.”

His grandfatherly voice hardly soothed. “You lie!” She squirmed in Fine’s hold but couldn’t break free. “Let me go! F-Fine, he’s… he’s gonna kill us!”

“If he wanted to kill us, he’d have already done it.”

“Let me go!” She managed to force her hooves between them and pushed against Fine’s chest. “Please, I don’t wanna die!”

Fine snarled and shouted in her face. “Think, Fleur! Where are you going to go? There’s nowhere to run to!”

The harsh truth of his words hit her. She looked up at the dragon again, gasping for air and feeling so horribly, hideously small. Shaking her head, she sank low and cowered in the dirt, prompting Fine to finally release her.

“P-please,” she whispered. “Don’t let it k-kill me.”

Fine studied her with a pained expression, but finally shook his head and turned to the dragon. He bowed low before it. “Greetings, Ancient One. My name is Fine Crime. Might I trouble you for yours?”

The dragon set a claw to his scarred breast and lowered his head in turn. “I am Parjin the Elder, and I apologize for frightening your friend.”

“Unless you were at Sueño, I do not believe that is your fault.”

The dragon’s eyes widened, great saucers as large as a pony. “You mean she is a survivor?” At Fine’s nod, the creature exhaled a long, shuddering breath. He turned his attention to Fleur, who still trembled on her barrel and watched him with an unblinking gaze. “What is your name, young one?”

She swallowed, but it didn’t save her throat from the dryness. “F-F-F… F-Fleur.”

Parjin took a step back and lowered his body until he was lying flat on the ground, his long snout aimed Fleur’s way. He closed his eyes as his powerful voice filled her ears. “Fleur, young survivor of Sueño, though I expect you not to accept it, I offer to you my humblest apologies for the barbarity of the foolish drake, Reddux. If I could assist you in any way to make reparations for that terrible calamity, I would grant it eagerly. I am truly sorry.”

Fleur stared at him, mind blank with what she was seeing. Her legs were itching to move, to send her fleeing from the sight of the terrible beast, but she knew better than to try. “Y-you cannot be forg-given for what I have seen.”

“Understandable.” Parjin raised his head, but kept his body flat on the ground. He eyed her with what was probably meant to pass as a sorrowful frown, but all she could see was those terrible fangs. “Yet I must ask; if you fear my kind so much, why are the two of you walking into our lands?”

Fine stepped forward, his voice firm. “We have come to learn why the dragons have attacked Equestria. We hope that in knowing the cause of your anger, we might go about setting things right between our races.”

Parjin’s head rotated to study Fine with a lone eye. He lowered down to peer at the stallion up close. Fine only stood tall, a fact that had Fleur gaping.

“Your manner intrigues me,” the dragon said, his voice quiet. “Are you not afraid?”

Fine sniffed, his eyes hard. “I am aware that you could kill me with but a claw, yet I think you’d have done so already if you intended to. Besides—” his head lowered and his ears folded, “—I have seen things far larger and more menacing than you.”

“Fascinating.” Parjin’s head rose once more, yet still he would not rise from the ground. “Perhaps your arrival is the will of The Voice.”

Fine glanced at Fleur with a raised eyebrow. “The Voice?”

“Ah, but I forget the fleeting memories of ponykind.” Parjin shook his head with a long sigh. “It has long fallen from the lore of your histories. I imagine only Celestia knows of it.”

Fine considered this for a few seconds, rubbing his chin in careful thought. After a while he stepped back and dropped to his barrel beside Fleur, who continued to watch Parjin closely. She let out a small gasp as he pressed against her. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere for a little while,” he responded, “and you look like you could use the support.” He turned his head back to the dragon. “Parjin the Elder, if you would honor us with a brief explanation, it would be most appreciated. I know of your reputation and age, and would be pleased to add the lore of ancient times to my knowledge.”

“Hmm…” Parjin’s hum was like a deep thrumming, and his scaled lips turned up in a smile that sent a shiver down Fleur’s spine. “You strike me as one who seeks strength through knowledge. This I appreciate and respect. Though our time is brief, I shall indulge your request. Perhaps someday I might provide you with the story at its full length, so that you may truly understand the importance of your kind.”

Fleur leaned close to whisper in Fine’s ear. “Do we have to do this?”

He shot her a scowl. “If I can go eleven years afraid of the deep sea, you can go thirty minutes afraid of a dragon. Go hide in the crags if it’s that bad.”

She whimpered and glanced to the south, where the Deadland Spikes loomed invitingly. Still, to get to them would require crossing hundreds of feet in open, unprotected terrain. Shivering, she pressed a little closer to him and closed her eyes, praying that this would all be over soon.

“I can see your young friend is uncomfortable,” Parjin said. “It is not in my nature to be hasty, but I shall do my best.”

Long before the age of my father, there was no world, no air, no light. Everything was pure darkness. Out of this darkness came… sentience. There was a being, and this being had no recollection of how it came to be, or how long it had been. Over time, the being came to know its own abilities and, through experimentation and curiosity, began to create.

Its first creations were, by our comprehension, simple things: rocks, air, water, soil, all floating about in the dark. The being was fascinated by creation, and wanted to explore different methods; it began seeking ways to combine these things. So did soil and rock combine to form something bigger and more complex. The being conceived of an intricate system; it created the heat within the soil, devising volcanoes, and water that flowed, culminating in rivers and the oceans. The being devised light by accident, and was so curious it created a massive ball of it that we now call the sun.

As the world grew, so too did the being’s appetite for more and more intricate creations. It learned how to create life by making the tiniest of things work together. Slowly, over endless time, it manipulated this new life, molding it into ever more intricate and curious life forms. There came fish, and plants, and birds, and ponies, and dragons.

The being was patient with its creations, but as time passed, it gradually came to realize a strange new sensation: loneliness. What purpose could all these creations have if they could not be appreciated and shared? So the being sought to create a sentient lifeform. It bred many different creatures over the millennia, constantly seeking the right combination of traits that would lead to a self-aware creature.

By luck or fate, the very first creature that came to understand itself, to learn and think and create… was a pony. In its excitement, the being focused on the ponies, until at last there was one so intelligent that it could learn to communicate with the being. Together they discovered speech, and upon this proof of her intellect, the being gave her a name: One.

One became the being’s friend, and taught the other ponies to speak and learn and create. Since the being had no name or physical form for itself, the ponies simply took to calling it The Voice.

The Voice never demanded worship, which it frowned upon, and it had few demands for the ponies. It asked only that life be cherished, though not at the expense of one’s own, and that tolerance and harmony be practiced. The Voice had created a beautiful, intricate system of life and death that it would see preserved in all its glory even as it continued to seek new forms for it. Because The Voice devoted so much time to the ponies’ development, they were and are the most in tune with its intentions.

The Voice went on to create other sentience; dragons, merponies, caribou, and so on, but The Voice had centered its efforts in but one small part of the world. Curious to know about the rest of the world and how it had grown without influence, The Voice departed for the unknown lands.

On the other side of our world, it found The Blight.

The Blight was another Great Being, its manner of existence similar to The Voice. It had found this world as it was being created and, being curious like The Voice, attempted to create for itself. But where The Voice was patient and spent many thousands of years carefully crafting its creations, The Blight worked recklessly and forcefully. It took the creatures already present in the world and used them to form new ones: griffons, manticore, hydra, and so on. When a creation failed to satisfy The Blight’s desires, it would see that creature destroyed, sometimes in cruel ways, for The Blight enjoyed tormenting the creatures it created.

When reason failed, The Voice returned to its home and instructed its creations to never venture to The Blight’s lands. So long as The Blight remained in its region of the world, there would be no conflict.

Yet the creatures of The Voice were curious, a trait it had encouraged. They explored and settled new lands, ever spreading their influence. Though most obeyed The Voice’s will, there were inevitably those whose curiosity overwhelmed them. There were many incidents, and the occasional conflict, but The Voice always managed to avoid direct warfare.

Until The Blight committed the Great Sin. A herd of ponies traveled unwittingly into the lands of The Blight, who took them and began to experiment with them. It bastardized their purpose, destroyed their minds and turned them into something unnatural. These poor souls were the very first of a race long reviled by your kin: The Changelings.

Some of the Changelings escaped The Blight’s lands and returned home. That The Blight would take The Voice’s favored creation and break them into such a pitiful form for the sake of amusement offended and horrified The Voice. The time for peace was over.

To combat The Blight and its fearsome creations, The Voice granted the ponies new gifts: wings to the pegasi, to act as scouts and stand against such threats as the mighty griffons; great strength to the Earth ponies, so that they might match The Blights hardiest minions such as the minotaur; and horns with just a touch of The Voice’s own power for unicorns, to give the races as a whole a great edge in the fighting to come.

The Voice then took its most loyal and dependable friends among the ponies and made them the first alicorns, to act as the leaders of the conflict. In response, The Blight created that most destructive and unpredictable of all races: the draconequus.

The war lasted two thousand years. I was born in the last millennium of the conflict, and had the great fortune of being mentored by The Voice itself. I regret that I could not convince it to turn back in the final days, when The Voice went to merge itself with the Blight in a perfect cacophony of opposing forces that destroyed them both. Yet I continue to teach the hatchlings in the way of The Voice, which has guided us for all these long centuries.

Fleur released the air she’d not known she’d been holding, her hers perked and her body leaning forward. As Parjin grew silent, she abruptly stood. “But wait, you completely glossed over the war!”

“Well,” Fine said with a smirk, “somepony lost her fear.”

She glanced from Parjin to Fine and back. Her cheeks grew hot. “He’s a… very good storyteller, that’s all.”

Parjin grinned, and for once his fangs only made her cringe a little. “I am pleased to hear it. I wish Reddux had been so apt to listen as you; perhaps then he would not have taken such a sad path.”

Fine peered at Parjin. “This Reddux, he’s the one who attacked the castle. Who is he?”

“A bitter hatchling of a drake.” Parjin shook his head with a rumbling sigh. “He does not understand the value of the ponies. He sees things only in terms of strength, and in his feeble mind this makes dragons the masters of the world. He feels ponies have robbed dragons of their birthright.”

“And I’m guessing he’ll stop at nothing to claim that birthright,” Fine said, gazing at his hooves with brow furrowed.

“I fear there is more truth to that statement than you can imagine.”

Fleur’s ears folded as thoughts of Sueño flooded her brain. “What do you mean?”

Another rumbling hum from Parjin. He sat up and scratched at a scar on his chest. “I cannot say with certainty. It is only speculation, and I would not lead you down unclear paths.”

“This is the dragon that slaughtered an entire island of ponies.” Fleur shivered and closed her eyes. “I would prefer not to think of potentially worse things he could do.”

“Elderwyrm.” Fine stood, the simple motion luring the dragon’s attention. “Forgive my haste, but my world is in danger and I need answers. Tell me, does Reddux have any chance of getting the hoards on his side in this conflict?”

“I forgive your need,” Parjin replied solemnly. “It is possible, but unlikely. Dragons tend to have great inertia and little desire for change. There would be no benefit to conquering Equestria, and such an act would stand against the principles of The Voice, which has been our cultural guide since the beginning of our existence. The hoards will remain in their current state unless acted upon by a great need, and Reddux can supply no such need.”

Fine nodded, though his expression didn’t soften. “So all we have to do is defeat three dragons and the war will end?”

“Easier said than done,” Fleur noted.

Parjin delivered another of his thrumming hums, a lone talon scratching at his throat as he considered them. “While the dragons as a whole will resist action, Reddux himself is already in motion, and he has more inertia than most. He has one claim which may sway some dragons: he has told the hoards that the ponies are stealing and crushing our eggs.”

“What?” Fleur stepped forward, mouth agape. “Why would we do something like that? What possible benefit is there to killing unborn dragons?”

Fine’s voice was subdued. “Alchemy, perhaps? I have heard dragon eggshells have potent magical application.”

“No.” Parjin shook his head. “Reddux showed us a shattered egg and the dead pony he claimed did the deed. However, such ‘evidence’ could easily have been planted, by Reddux or some other. I do not believe it is the ponies who are stealing our eggs.”

Fine thought on this with eyes on the ground for a few seconds before finally speaking up. “Elderwyrm… if it were found that ponies were stealing and crushing eggs, would that warrant a declaration of war?”

A deep sigh sent dust flying about the ponies before Parjin spoke. “Understand, little ones: it is exceedingly rare for a dragon female to bear more than a single egg in her lifetime. New life is the dragons’ most precious commodity, and we protect our unborn hatchlings more than we protect our hoards. The destruction of our eggs most certainly warrants a response.”

Fleur shot an alarmed look Fine’s way, but he maintained his solemn gaze. “Then it is my duty to find proof that we are not responsible. I thank you, Parjin the Elder, for giving me some direction.”

“Hmm…” Parjin glanced from Fine to Fleur and back, his eyes peering. “I would ask if you would understand the dangers of what you suggest, but I suspect your coming to the home of the ‘enemy’ is enough evidence of your courage. Especially for you, little Fleur.”

Fine’s lips pursed and he straightened just a little. “I have a duty to protect Equestria. Since the day I chose my profession, I have been prepared to die if necessary to perform that duty. I will face whatever dangers I must.”

Fleur stared at him, only to realize that Parjin’s eyes were on her. She fidgeted and glanced around, her stomach churning, but at last looked to the great creature before her. “If Equestria falls, so do I. I am with Fine.”

Parjin considered them with quiet contemplation, absent-mindedly scratching at one of the scars on the side of his neck. After a few moments, he reached down to push a single talon into the ground and scratched a long line into the earth. He finished the motion by pointing in the direction the line did.

“Go. There you will find Crater Lake, the sight of the Great Calamity of the Skies. Reddux, Tialvis and Eruk have made the lake their meeting grounds. I have watched them from afar, and I believe they have hidden something in the caves beneath. You may find your evidence there, but beware: I fear there are more than dragons within the dark.”

Fleur eyed the line, then the vast emptiness of the south. “Couldn’t you just fly us there?” Fine slapped the back of her head; not enough to hurt, but more than enough to catch her attention. “Hey! What was that for?”

“Parjin has already given us much,” Fine scolded. “Do not press our luck.”

“It is quite alright,” Parjin said with a smile that was oddly warm despite its fangs. “No, young one, I cannot take you. Tialvis, who resides within the caves, is watching for me, and will not let me near the lake. Were I to deliver you, your enemy would know it and you would die. Take heart; the journey is only a day’s march for a pony.”

Fine bowed before the dragon, prompting Fleur to quickly do the same. “I thank you, Elderwyrm. You may have given us the information we need to end the fighting quickly.”

“I pray to The Voice that it will be so.” Parjin’s wings unfurled and he rose into the sky. “Good luck, my friends. I will be watching from a distance. May Celestia’s luck be upon you.”

Fleur watched him go with a frown. “Celestia’s luck? Is Celestia associated with good luck?”

“Maybe to the dragons. Makes perfect sense, really.” Fine glanced at her. “Glad to see you were able to get over your fear.”

She blushed as the memory of her terror came back to her. “Well, he was nice. And he really is a good storyteller.” She bowed her head and kicked at the dirt. “Papa was a good storyteller.”

Chewing his lip, Fine looked to the south, then back to her. “Fleur… are you sure you want to come with me? Parjin said a ‘Tialvis’ was guarding the lake, and it’s almost a certainty Tialvis is one of those who attacked Sueño. You don’t have to face this if you don’t want to.”

For just a fraction of time, Fleur entertained the possibility, but then she shook her head. “No, I will come. What else am I going to do, where am I going to go? I’m sticking with you, Fine. At least I’ll feel like I’m doing something.”

He studied her, concern in his eyes. “Alright, then, let’s go. We’ll want to make some distance. Better to set up camp nearby than get there exhausted.”

She followed him, her eye going to the long mark in the ground. The trench was wide enough that she could have walked in it if she kept her legs close together, and deep enough to reach up to her knees. Even so, she realized that Parjin wasn’t anywhere near the size that the red dragon – presumably Reddux – had been. The thought made her shiver.

“I’m an assassin.”

She blinked and looked to fine. He didn’t look back. She hurried to catch up. “What was that?”

“My job,” he replied, expression neutral. “I’m an assassin. I figure you’re ready to know.”

Having her suspicions confirmed only added to Fleur’s confusion. “But why? What did I do to earn that trust?”

“We’re about to sneak into a dragon’s lair, with Celestia knows what else inside. It’s possible neither of us will survive.” He glanced at her, expression ever solemn. “That you’re willing to do this with me, for whatever reason and despite what you’ve already been through, warrants respect. You deserve to at least know the kind of pony you’re working with.”

She absorbed this reply, head low and eyes on her hooves. She had his respect. She wasn’t sure anypony had ever respected her before. It was an entirely new sensation... and she rather liked it.

She raised her head high and smiled at the concept. “I won’t let you down, Fine.”

He gave her a small smile. “Of that I have no doubt.”

Author's Note

The Voice is a concept that has long been brewing in my skull, my own idea behind the creation of the world for MLP. This is the first time I've actively applied it to any of my stories, and it is now the official creation myth of the No Heroes, Fleur and Trixie vs. Equestria universes. I have long considered writing a few stories relating this tale in greater detail – collectively referred to as my 'History of Equestria' series. I don't know if I'll ever get to them, though.

Speaking of which, I decided that I've progressed far enough along to create for myself an outline of the rest of the story. From this, I have estimated that Reddux the Tyrant will run for twenty chapters overall, epilogue included. At my current update rate, that puts the story ending sometimes in April. Man, that feels like it's a long ways away...

The Nature of the Beast

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter XIII
The Nature of the Beast

Fancy walked the ramparts of Guardia del Este, his head low and his mind wandering. He’d doffed his uniform, as had most of the ponies at the fort. The heat rose in waves from the stones and sweat dripped from every soldier and guard, but it was preferable to stay outside. The heat indoors had grown so intense that some guards had collapsed of heatstroke, prompting the base commander to order all ponies outdoors.

Yet he still had his cool inner sanctum, in which no ponies were permitted save upon a summons. Fancy glared at the keep, but kept his curses to himself.

He looked to the castle courtyard. Some ponies were drilling, their shouts rising into the still summer air. There were no pegasi, for the majority had flown to the north in search of clouds. Fancy’s eye roamed the horizon, the sky as clear and cloudless as any he’d ever known. All of Equestria would be in need of cloud cover; surely production was falling far behind the need.

As he came to the eastern walls, he looked out over the desert. There had been no word from the army sent to Fuegos en las Rocas, not even a pegasus messenger. Perhaps it had not been so long as it felt, but the sight of an empty horizon left an empty feeling in Fancy’s stomach.

“Hey there, First Lieutenant.”

Fancy paused, giving himself a moment to pull out of his thoughts. He found himself standing beside a familiar pink unicorn, who eyed him wearily. “Oh, hello, Private Sundae. My apologies, I was lost in thought.”

She chewed her lip and glanced to the east. “Thinking about the rest of the army?”

“Thinking about a great many things,” he admitted with a sigh. He glanced around with a small frown. “Does Colonel Mander still have you standing guard up here?”

She chuckled and brushed the sweat from her blonde fringe. “I’m not still being punished, if that’s what you’re asking. This is just where I’ve been assigned when on duty.”

“Oh, good.” He sighed and sat where he could see through the crenelations. “I never got to apologize for getting you in trouble, so—”

“It’s not your fault I got curious,” she said, sitting at the next gap. “I probably should have minded my own business.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I’m glad you didn’t; you diffused the tension. Still—” he turned his eyes to the south, “—I wish Fleur hadn’t chosen to go with that stallion.”

Frosty looked to him with a small frown. “You’re worried about her.”

“Of course I am.” He stomped and grimaced at the southern horizon. “I can’t help thinking that she should be my responsibility. I feel as though I failed her.”

“I doubt she thinks that, Fancy.”

Fancy turned his head east once more, his heart heavy. “Oh, I think she does. She might have stayed here if she didn’t.”

“And what advantage would that give her?” Private Sundae asked. “We all know a dragon’s going to attack this fort eventually. Do you really think she’d be any safer here?”

He snorted, dust and sand billowing up from the stones before him. “But at least I could have kept an eye on her.”

Frosty studied him, then gained a sad smile. “I wish my brother was more like you.”

His ears perked at this strange change in direction. “Your brother?”

“Yep.” She sighed and looked out to the horizon once again. “The tradition in my family is that the stallions join the army, the mares stay at home. A bit odd, but nopony ever complained. Until my brother, that is; he stole a bunch of our parents’ money and ran away.”

Fancy considered her with a frown. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I had to join.” She shrugged and leaned over the wall. “Dad was so disappointed in his son, I figured I should do what I could to ease that. He didn’t like me defying family tradition by signing up, but… he understands. Mom too.”

“Hmm…” Fancy followed her lead and leaned against the hot stones. “So if your brother was doing his ‘family duty’ and standing where you are now, what would you be doing?”

“Making ice cream.” Frosty looked up at the immobile sun. “I wish I had the stuff to do that now.”

Fancy gave a weak chuckle and brushed the sweat from his brow. “You and me both.”

Silence filled the air as they stared out into the bleak, red desert. Every now and then a small breeze would kick up, but it was always hot and carried biting sand. The world remained unpleasantly quiet, like the calm before a raging storm. Sometimes Fancy wondered if the allusion wasn’t accurate.

“Fancy?”

“Yeah?”

Frosty shifted, her chin resting on the stones. “This strategy you and the others came up with, the secret one. Do you really think it’ll give us a chance?”

He glanced her way, but couldn’t see her face. Seconds passed as he thought on the question, but the truth left a cold feeling in his stomach. Swallowing to wet his throat, he replied, “I think so.”

She raised her head to study him with a single eye. “Don’t ever try to play poker, Fancy.”

They shared a weak chuckle and returned to their quiet vigil. The sun beat on their backs, the sand bit into their coats, the silence bored into their ears. Fancy felt heavy, as if the wall were on his back instead of the other way around. He wanted to sleep, but there was always that nagging worry that the moment he did, the dragons would come. It was irresponsible of him, he knew.

If only the sun would go down. Maybe that would give him the ease he needed. His thoughts turned to Celestia, as they always inevitably did.

“Fancy.”

He grumbled and realized he’d been nodding off. He raised his head and shook it. “What?”

“Look.”

He glanced groggily towards Frosty, but she was peering into the horizon. He followed suit and carefully studied the line where blue sky met red earth. Slowly, he surveyed the east until, at last, he saw something: a single dark dot.

Fancy tensed. “Any idea what it is?”

She nodded. “I think it’s a pony.”

“The army.” He chewed his dry lips and tried to focus his eyes a little better. “A messenger, perhaps?”

“I don’t know.”

Fancy reared up and set his forehooves on the wall before him, leaning out to study the dot. As he did, he thought he could make out a shape. It shifted, but he couldn’t tell what he was seeing.

Frosty made a weak sound. “He just collapsed.”

They shared wide-eyed looks. Fancy gestured to the courtyard. “Go, find the colonel.”

The Burning Lands stretched out beneath Reddux, all hard stone and belching lava. Volcanic mountains rose like giants, their calderas ever-steaming. Here there were no plants, no animals, no structures. This was a land too brutal for anything feebler than the mightiest of beasts, beautiful in its desolation. Reddux would see it spread across the known world and beyond.

But first, he had to deal with the enemies of progress.

Some caves were hidden, others blatantly obvious. They were spread out, it being incredibly rare for two caves to be located on adjacent mountains. Most were natural, holes carved out by the lava in ancient times. Every now and then he would catch sight of a dragon peering out of the darkness to investigate the passing stranger. None dared to approach him.

Less common than the natural caves were those carved by dragon claws. Such caverns were only held by those of particular influence and power. That old fool Parjin had one for over four millennia; Reddux looked forward to the day he would install one of his own in that hole. He’d seriously considered giving it to Tialvis; as the ‘mother’ of his future army, she would warrant a truly grand hoard.

Yet in this area there stood only one artificial hoard, and he made straight for it. The cave had been cut into a square shape and lined with great, glimmering gems. No drake ever failed to recognize the hoard of the First Fang. It sat at the very bottom of the tallest volcano, surrounded by a pool of lava. As Reddux circled for a landing, he noticed a tail disappear within the darkness.

He grinned; so the hatchling hid within her great cave. Though it may take him time to locate Sorahna, safety would elude her. He would find her and deliver his terms, and she would agree to them… or share her parents’ fate. He eased into a landing within the circle of magmatic pools, his eyes on the ca—

The attack came in a flash of purple scales; Reddux, unbalanced from his landing, fell back with a roar as another dragon smashed into him. The two collapsed into the lava, the sounds of the fight muffled by the thick, hot liquid. The smaller dragon raked his claws against Reddux’s back, but his small talons had no chance of piercing those mighty scales with just one try.

Reddux sneered and reached his arm around his opponent, latching on to a lone wing. He pulled, forcing the dragon to turn sideways, and then grabbed a shoulder. Though he couldn’t see his opponent in the churning red lava, he easily held him in place despite the thrashing. After a few seconds his legs found the bottom of the pool and he gave a powerful push.

The dragons erupted from the pool, Reddux roaring as he tossed his attacker away like a mere hatchling. He landed on the hard ground with enough force to shake the earth and released a deafening bellow, but the purple dragon stood and faced him without hesitation.

Reddux took a couple steps, his chest expanding as he bared his fangs. “Who are you to stand in my way, little drake?”

His opponent snorted smoke. “I have no words for a snake who lacks honor.”

Reddux chuckled. “What did she promise you? Did she entice you with her young body, or perhaps offered you some of her parents’ hoard? It is mine now.”

The smaller dragon held his ground, his body low and ready to pounce. “It is the Hoard of Sorahna now! She will be the First Fang.”

“Will she?” Reddux towered over him, his lips curling in a smile. “And what are you? Her doting guardian?” He peered into the youth’s determined eyes. “I will have to kill you then. Let us see how long you last on your own.”

“He’s not alone.”

Reddux hissed and turned, only to find himself surrounded; at least a dozen dragons were now perched around him, all watching the scene with malicious intent. Slowly, Reddux turned his eyes about to see each and every dragon. He recognized a few, but the one he expected was nowhere to be found.

“What?” He grinned and spread his arms wide. “No Parjin? Did he not arrange this meeting?”

“I am giving the orders now.”

Reddux turned in time to see a slender silver head emerge from the shadows of the cave. Sorahna’s youth was apparent, given away by her diminutive size and the way her backside spikes had yet to form sharp edges. She could be no more than eight hundred years of age. Even so, she held a regal bearing as she stood in the light of the sun and spread her wings.

“So, the hatchling looks to be a leader.” Reddux leered and walked to the center of the circle, stopping just at the edge of the magmatic moat. “I dare say you look every bit like your mother. I wonder if your face will hold the same expression as hers did when my fangs find your throat.”

Sorahna’s eye twitched, but it was the only sign of emotion she would offer him. “Reddux, you fancy yourself a tyrant. There is no room for tyrants in the Burning Lands.”

He stretched his neck over the lava and bared his fangs. “And you intend to… what? Throw me out?”

She appeared unmoved by his threatening display. “You killed my parents in cold blood and attempted to have me assassinated, like a coward. No, Reddux, I will deliver upon you the wrath of my father.”

“Your father was weak,” he hissed. “Do you prefer that we should bow to the whims of creatures beneath us? I would make the dragons mighty again, and I would suggest you join me in that endeavor.”

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. “You are a monster, and you shall be put down as all monsters must be.”

Reddux’s legs tensed, his wings flexed. “Do not think me easy prey. I am impressed you defeated Vermithrax, but I will not be put down.”

“Look around you!” She spread her claws wide. “You may be the greatest of our race, but you are not invincible. Even you are not so foolish as to think you can win here.”

He slowly looked at the dragons surrounding them, examined each for strength and form. It was indeed a challenging situation she’d set up for him… but he’d been prepared for it. He grinned and shot a one-eyed look Sorahna’s way. “And if I kill you before they have a chance to strike?”

“You will still die.” Now it was Sorahna who smiled. “Killing me will no more make you the First Fang than killing my parents did.”

“Maybe not.” He dropped low, preparing himself for the attack. “Yet I will escape this fight alive, pretty little hatchling, whereas you shall not. I will make Equestria into a new Burning Lands, a hoard for my allies and I to share. We will grow strong, and as we pick off the leaders of the opposition one at a time, we will rule. We have thousands of years to sway the hoards.”

Sorahna’s smile faded to a somber stare. “So, you would wage a war of eons?”

His lips curled back in a smile. “I am prepared for the long conflict. Are you?”

She was silent for some time, gazing upon him as if he were some strange creature she didn’t recognize. “The ponies will not fall to you, Reddux. The Voice made them so they would survive any situation.”

“Then let them survive slavery. But first… let’s see you survive me!”

He lunged, his jaws open wide and aimed for her throat, yet Sorahna nimbly dodged and his fangs clamped on open air. She did not escape his talons, however; he caught her shoulder and raked a claw down her chest, tearing into her scales.

Though her blood had been spilt, Sorahna wasted no time countering. Her fangs closed over his shoulder, but her young teeth were like tiny needles trying to pierce steel.

Though she was no threat, Reddux already knew he had failed. He could hear the roars of the other dragons and knew he’d never get a second strike before they were upon him. Though the indignity seared his mind, he turned his tactics towards escape: he clutched her tightly and let himself drop, dragging her into the magma pool.

Sorahna squirmed within his hold, clawing and thrashing at his body without effect. Reddux made no attempt to fight back, instead holding her tightly and working to keep her above him. Within seconds the dull splashing of the other dragons reached his ears, at which point he pushed Sorahna away. Her claws sliced at him a few more times, then she disappeared entirely, pulled to safety by her loyalists.

Reddux turned and crawled along the bottom of the pool. He moved slowly, silently, listening to the violent thrashings of the lava. It wasn’t until his snout bumped the edge that he finally sensed an opening; using his powerful claws, he climbed up the wall as fast as his legs could carry him and burst out of the pool. His wings opened wide and he was off, flying north and to safety.

He looked back to see the lava pool alive with dragons, nearly all of them beneath the surface and seeking him or Sorahna out. Yet there were three who noticed his departure and launched in pursuit, roaring their anger. That purple lizard he’d come close to dispatching was among them.

Well, better late than never.

Weaving through the bare mountains, Reddux planned his strategy. His opponents would have no difficulty keeping up, for if his size gave him any weakness it was speed. He made frequent turns to keep the mountains between him and his opponents. The rocks sailed past in a blur as he waited, knowing one of them would make the mistake.

A shadow came over Reddux as one of the three appeared above him, having flown directly over the mountain.

His reaction was quick, practiced and lethal; Reddux tucked his wings and rolled, his hind legs kicking in unison. Combined with the attacker’s momentum, the talons had no difficulty slicing right through the thick scales of the dragon’s blue belly. At the same time, Reddux raised his arms and caught the dragon’s face, his claws diving into the jowls and separating before the fangs could clamp down on them.

Blood filled the sky as the dragon screeched, his jaw hanging loosely from torn muscles. Reddux twisted and flew straight down, slamming his victim into the ground at high speed. Bone snapped, but he didn’t wait to see if his opponent was dead. Instead he lifted off to escape the other two pursuers before they could catch up.

He looked back to find the dragons rounding the mountain. They spotted their fallen comrade and bellowed, but didn’t break pursuit.

Reddux didn’t need to flee anymore; two dragons half his size would be easy prey. He simply needed an appropriate location for the fight. This in mind, he continued north, making his way to a large volcano. He could hear from their roars that his pursuers were catching up, and he adjusted his speed appropriately.

He went right up the side of the mountain. The rocks blurred just beneath his belly and his wings grazed the stones with every flap. There was a large boulder jutting out near the top of the slope, and he made directly for it. He glanced back to find the purple dragon practically on top of him. With a fanged grin, Reddux adjusted his flight to ensure his enemy wouldn’t be able to see the boulder.

Closer, closer.

The dragon’s teeth snapped at his tail.

At the last instant, Reddux banked off and flared his wings. His foe darted by, eyes going wide at the sight of the boulder. He tried to rise and smashed chest-first into it, and they both tumbled into the caldera.

Knowing he had little time, Reddux spun about to meet his remaining pursuer. The last of the three dragons was larger and older than the other two, and would put up a significant fight if Reddux didn’t end it soon.

The yellow drake smashed into Reddux, his fangs going directly for the throat. Reddux caught him by the neck and had to work to keep those sharp teeth at bay. His opponent clawed at his shoulders, cutting long gouges through the scales; a few more hits would rip them out. With little time to spare, Reddux lowered his free claw and brought it up at an angle, his talons going deep into his foe’s armpit. He could feel the claws scrape muscle and sinew as he gripped and pulled.

His enemy let out a bellow as his arm went limp, blood dripping from his wound. The dragon’s remaining claw and both legs sliced at Reddux, but he folded his wings and dropped out of the sky. Still holding the dragon’s neck in a vice-like grip, he used his superior heft to control their fall, smashing the dragon’s head against the solid rocks below. Dazed from the blow, the dragon was defenseless as Reddux’s fangs ripped into his exposed throat.

Blood dripping from his lips, Reddux left the dying drake to his fate and approached the caldera. He was covered in terrible scratches, yet none of the attacks had succeeded in cutting through his scales, and so there was no pain.

A purple claw reached over the edge of the caldera just as he arrived at the edge. He allowed the purple dragon to crawl halfway out before moving in to block his motion. The caldera was too small to let even the young dragon open his wings for flight, and his claws were focused on keeping him from falling; he was at Reddux’s mercy. Even so, he bared his fangs and let out a menacing hiss.

Reddux grinned and rubbed blood from his lips. “So tell me now, little whelp, how it is that you intend to kill me.”

“You will not win, Reddux,” his prey replied, meeting his leer with a glare. “Before this is over, you will die.”

“Why?” Reddux leaned back and spread his arms wide. “What have I done to warrant such punishment? All I ask is that the ponies pay for their crimes.”

“You killed the First fang and his mate!”

“Because they would not enact justice upon the wicked.” Reddux pressed a lone claw beneath the dragon’s chin. “Those who will not protect our own kind are not worthy of leading.”

“Don’t speak as though you are a wise wyrm!” The young dragon swiped at Reddux’s claw, but missed and had to scramble to keep from falling back into the caldera. “You care only about power. We doubt the ponies had anything to do with the crushed eggs. You are a liar!”

Reddux smirked. “Oh, and you are so very loyal to the pretty little hatchling, aren’t you?” He caught the dragon’s face with both claws and looked him in the eyes. “What is it, drake? Do you hope to be by her side? Do you think she might fancy you? Do you long to make her your mate?”

Purple claws flashed forward and grasped Reddux’s throat, forcing him to shift his weight to keep from falling. The dragon blew flames in his face. “I will kill you in her name, even if I must die to do so!”

Reddux’s smile faded. “Are you prepared to die?”

“For her? Yes.”

For a few seconds, the two of them glared at one another in silence. Reddux considered those hard eyes, full of determination and anger.

Then his smile returned. “Very good.”

He fell forward, taking them both into the caldera. The younger dragon roared and clawed at Reddux’s throat, but his talons simply weren’t hard enough. It would take him dozens of tries to break through Reddux’s thick scales, and he simply didn’t have the time.

They hit the bottom, the dragon smashed between Reddux and rock. They were surrounded by bubbling, boiling lava, and before his foe could recover from the hit Reddux lifted him and threw him onto his belly. Just as the drake was starting to stand, Reddux straddled and pushed him down. With both claws, he shoved the drake’s head into the lava.

The dragon thrashed and clawed and struggled, but his strength was no match for the gargantuan weight on his back. Seconds passed, then a minute. The drake’s movements began to slow, then go limp.

Reddux wasn’t fooled.

A few more seconds.

A few more.

The drake began to thrash again. This time when he slowed down, Reddux knew it was the real thing. After a time, he pulled the dragons’ head from the lava. His victim coughed up some of the red liquid and grasped feebly at Reddux’s wrists.

Reddux leaned down so his snout was by his victim’s head. “I thought you should know before you die: the ponies aren’t responsible for breaking the eggs. I broke them, and I laughed as I did, because the hoards will never know it.”

The dragon spat more lava. “Y-you… you bas—”

His head was pushed under again. Reddux heaved with his deep breaths, relishing the feeble struggle. After a short time, he raised the dragon’s head once more.

“I’ve got friends, you know. Friends who have taken our eggs and left them in certain strategic locations. When they are found, the hoards will believe that the ponies really are responsible.”

“N-no…”

Another prolonged dunk. The dragon’s claws grew weak.

Reddux pulled him out once more. “It may take a decade, or a century, or even a millennium, but the hoards will follow me. And your pretty little hatchling? She’ll come to believe I was telling the truth all along.”

The young drake could only sputter and moan before his head was submerged yet again. This time his arms barely moved.

Reddux raised his victim’s head and whispered into his ear. “She will be my mate, and you? You will be forgotten. The ponies will be our slaves, Equestria will burn, and your death? It will mean nothing. So tell me, little lovestruck drake, are you happy to die for her?”

He listened intently, but his victim could only rasp and cough. He made a long, scratchy moan.

“I thought not.”

One last push. The dragon’s arms shifted limply, his body trembled, his wings spasmed. Reddux watched the scene with a grin, taking in every little motion. He relished victory, both this one and those to come. He breathed in sharp gasps as the excitement of the kill mounted.

His victim no longer moved. Reddux held on for a couple extra minutes, just to be certain the job was done, then pushed the body into the lava. The excitement was gone, the rush a fleeting thing to be looked forward to later. The body slowly sank, and Reddux turned to make the climb out of the caldera.

He would spare no more thoughts for dead weight. He needed to return to Crater Lake and finish the job. He still had two dragons on his side, and Sorahna would be spending too much time securing her position from competitors to spare any dragons to the protection of the ponies.

Three dragons was more than enough to burn Equestria to cinders.

Fancy was at the fort’s well, helping to distribute water to the few remaining healers at Guardia del Este. He kept glancing to the shaded portion of the castle, where rested about three dozen soldiers. Those not with fatal wounds were too injured to stand, and those not too injured to stand were dehydrated and worn out beyond effectiveness. His stomach roiled at the sight of their burns and missing limbs, the scent of burnt flesh keeping memories of Sueño close to the surface.

Yet he soldiered on, doing what little he could to help these poor souls. Every now and then he’d look to the gates, hoping to see another survivor being brought inside, but always he was disappointed. Eight hundred soldiers had been sent to Fuegos en las Rocas; less than forty had returned, and it looked more and more as though there would be no more.

Everywhere he went, he heard the whispers.

“Just one, a black demon.”

“It wiped out the whole battalion like they were wheat before a scythe.”

“Nothing could pierce its scales.”

“We don’t stand a chance.”

“It’s coming here next.”

“All the pegasi. It killed all the pegasi!”

“Better to leave now while we still can.”

“And go where? All of Equestria will burn.”

Fancy couldn’t take anymore; he left the well and went to stand atop the walls once more, staring into the east. His heart was pounding, his stomach churned. He knew it was all probably true. It didn’t matter if they used Commander Dune’s strategy or the one they’d developed in secret; neither would stop the assault of a dragon, not with a little over three hundred ponies. So long as the dragons had no known weakness, they were doomed.

This was exactly what bothered Fancy, for he knew the dragons had to have a weakness! Sir Deeds had killed a dragon, hadn’t he? Had he thought about it at the appropriate time, he might have asked the bastard how. Too late for that. Even so, he continued to ponder the situation, for he knew there must be some trick to bringing down a dragon.

But what?

“How you holdin’ up, First Lieutenant?”

Fancy turned to find Colonel Mander approaching, his expression grim. “Colonel. I imagine I’m doing better than you are, all things considered.”

The colonel turned and rested his forehooves on the wall between two crenelations. Curious, he was right where Frosty had been a few hours ago. He remained silent, and Fancy followed his example. They gazed at the horizon for a time, Fancy going over and over potential strategies and dismissing each one.

“You know how many of us were at the Selene in Grypha, Fancy?”

He glanced to the colonel, but the stallion wasn’t looking at him. “I know it wasn’t many.”

“Less than a hundred.” Colonel Mander’s eyes were glazed, as though he were looking at something far beyond the horizon. “I was a Second Lieutenant, and our commanding officer was Lieutenant Colonel Fire Eyes. He was a bucking buffalo, if you’d believe that.”

Fancy stared at him for a few seconds. “I’ve heard of stranger things.” That wasn’t true, but he needed to say something.

Colonel Mander gave a weak chuckle. “He was a good guy. Honorable to a fault. He swore to the local gryphon lord that we’d secure the crossing against the rebel reinforcements and hold it until the main gryphon army arrived. We weren’t even supposed to fight. For hundreds of years, a token Equestrian force has been stationed in Grypha. Do you even know why?”

Fancy thought back to his days in the academy. “Part of a deal with the new Empire. Keeping stability in Grypha, or something like that.”

“‘Stability.’ That’s right, and Celestia told us not to get involved in the rebellion. We were to stand down.” He sneered and shook his head. “The Lieutenant Colonel had lived there for fifteen years. He’d made friends, and he wasn’t about to let them down. He asked for volunteers to go to the river. Not a single pony said no.”

“And you held the crossing.” Fancy leaned closer, his ears perked and his breath cut short.

“For six days.” The colonel stared at his hooves, expression hard. “We lost seventy-four ponies, twenty-two griffons and the Lieutenant Colonel, but we held that river until the armies of the Empire finally made it. Goddess knows how many innocent lives we saved in doing so. Y’know how we did it?”

He turned to look Fancy in the eye. “Sound strategy, a sense of brotherhood, and hard-hoofed determination.

“We took away their aerial advantage.” He waved at the sky as if there were clouds to indicate. “Whipped up storms no gryphon or pony could fly through, then funneled them through the fordable parts of the river. Those bastards were bucking determined, but we were more so.”

He turned back to the wall and shook his head. “Now I look at these poor saps and I see the light dimming in their eyes. Eight hundred defenders, gone just like that. No solid strategy, talk of desertion, morale dangerously low. If we don’t turn this around…” He pressed his hooves to his face and said nothing more.

Fancy hesitated before reaching over to pat the colonel on the back. He received no response, and so turned his attention to the horizon. “Do you think that we could win if we had a way to bring the dragon to the ground?”

Colonel Mander sighed. It was an elongated, depressing sound. “Maybe, if we could down it inside the walls. Yet we couldn’t possibly make a storm strong enough to bring down a dragon. We don’t have the clouds for that, or the pegasi.”

“No, I guess we don’t.”

There was another long, drawn out silence. Fancy wished he could think of some kind of solution, but it eluded him. How to bring down a dragon when resources were limited?

His ears perked to shouts. For an instant his heart flew into his throat, yet when he turned he found the guards on the walls pointing not south, but north. He looked out to see something that made his jaw drop. “I don’t believe it.”

The cloud floated in the sky, wide and thin and white. A small group of pegasi constantly maneuvered about the formation, guiding it along.

“I’ll be damned,” the colonel muttered at Fancy’s side, “she pulled it off.”

“It’s big enough to cover the entire castle,” Fancy observed with a smile. “Finally, at least there’s some good news.”

The colonel nodded. “Not enough, but at this point I’ll take what I can get.”

They watched as the cloud was steadily pushed towards the fort. One of the pegasi descended, and her identity was quickly apparent by her orange plumage. Captain Feathers spotted them and turned in their direction. She reached them just as the shade passed over the fort, and Fancy gave a relaxed sigh as the sun’s glare was blocked at last.

“Congratulations, Captain,” Colonel Mander called. “I can’t believe you found one.”

“That makes two of us.” Though Oak’s body glistened with sweat, she bore a broad grin. “This should make even the commander happy.”

“I don’t know about that,” Fancy muttered.

Captain Feathers turned to point at the collection of wounded soldiers below. “What happened to them?”

The colonel’s face went white. His lips worked soundlessly, but in the end he only turned his back to her. Oak cocked her head and turned her attention to Fancy, who lowered his head.

“They’re… survivors.”

“Survivors?” Oak thought on this for a moment, then gained a bright smile. “You mean the army came back? So where are they?”

“No.” Fancy shook his head and braced himself, a hoof pressing against his stomach. “They are the army.”

Oak’s arms hung limply as she gawked. “W-what do you mean? Where are the others?”

Fancy flinched and looked away.

“No.” She turned to stare at the wounded soldiers. Seconds passed in terrible silence. “I don’t see any pegasi. W-where are my Red Wings?”

Fancy’s stomach was tied in knots. He glanced to Colonel Mander, but the stallion’s eyes were closed and his breath came in slow gasps. After a while Fancy turned back to the captain. “I’m sorry, Oak… but none of the pegasi have returned.”

She jerked around to press her muzzle into his. “None? That’s impossible! You can’t tell me that not a single member of the 42nd made it back!”

His chin trembled at her glare, but not because of the harshness within those eyes. No, his concern came from the denial hidden behind their fire. He tried to find words for her, but could only look away.

Oak floated back. “Th-that… can’t… be…” She sputtered, raised her hooves, lowered them again. Her entire body began to shake and her eyes were wet. Her face twisted into a menagerie of conflicting expressions: anger, horror, confidence, sadness, amusement, fury, all in the span of a couple seconds as strange, unnatural sounds passed between her lips.

At last she just turned away and flew for the survivors. Fancy reached as if to stop her. His hoof was trembling.

Colonel Mander sighed. “Yeah, it always hurts worst the first time.”

Hoofknife reread his letter, taking note of the fretful nature of his own words. Fine Crime would read them and probably see right through it, which was a good thing. Satisfied, he pulled out his transmittal potion, carefully removed the cap and dropped the rolled up letter inside. It began to disintegrate, as though the contents of the bottle were an acid. Satisfied his message would reach its intended destination, he replaced the bottle in his coat and stood.

Being the Mane Archon required a lot of different skills. Hoofknife might have been in his position for several years now, but he’d not lost those old instincts. It had been surprisingly difficult to determine where Celestia now rested – after all, how could one move the ruler of Equestria without being noticed? Somepony did a commendable job keeping things under wraps, he merely hoped they did it for the right reasons.

He had listened in on dozens of conversations, tracked a number of ponies, and even had to perform a couple interrogations. In the end, he found himself in an abandoned portion of the dungeons of Estéril Pezuñas… or at least they would seem abandoned to the untrained eye. There was no dust or grit in the path between the cells and there were places where debris had clearly been moved.

This was not a surprise to Hoofknife; anypony of the proper rank knew that the city’s vaults were located here.

What did surprise Hoofknife was the blatant lack of security: no guards, no detection spells, nothing. Only a single large, steel door hidden behind a fake wall. It was supposedly here that Celestia had been taken, and the ponies he’d interrogated claimed it was for her protection in case of a dragon attack. That did make a certain amount of common sense; this area of the dungeons was so deep into the earth that it was actually cool compared to the rest of the castle, and thus would be less likely to take damage in the event of an attack.

Even so, something about the nature of this didn’t sit well with him. He had only a gut feeling, but Hoofknife had learned long ago to trust his instincts, and his instincts told him something was wrong with this situation. Too much secrecy, too much care and manipulation. Although the lack of guards might make for an effective veil of unimportance, it didn’t fit well with the already established importance of the location.

Hoofknife knew he should wait for other Archons to come to his aid. Deep Depths was on his way and Fine Crime would at least know of Celestia’s location, but it could be days before either of them arrived. He had no time; Celestia lay beyond, and Hoofknife had to know that she was okay.

So, kneeling by the door, the pulled out his lockpicks and set to work.

As expected, the lock on the door was complicated. Not top-grade merchandise, but still a solid design. Hoofknife held his tongue between his teeth as he worked, a habit he’d almost forgotten about. To his pleasure, he’d not lost his field knowledge. Within five minutes he had the lock’s inner mechanisms figured out and, though he had to pull out an extra pick to do the job, the door finally opened.

He pushed his way into the vault and immediately felt a wave of cool air. He took in the sights to find himself in a long hallway. Pushing the door closed, Hoofknife crept through the dim lighting, his hooves making no sound.

At the end of the brown stone hall, he came upon a four-way split in the path. He could see that each path was lined with chests, each chest having a notepad stuck to the wall above it. He walked down one of the paths, his eyes roaming the notes. Curious, he opened a chest to find it half-filled with bits. Uninterested, he closed it and moved on.

Hoofknife knew from his files that the four paths converged on a single room, a high security vault. It had once been used to store dangerous artifacts, but those had been moved – many of them appropriated by the Archons for safer keeping – and thus the back vault was mostly abandoned.

He was still surprised to see it opened wide.

Hoofknife paused at the sight of a blackish crust on the floor and walls of the vault entrance. He’d never seen it before, but he’d heard enough descriptions from agents to know what it was. Automatically put on alert, he crouched and began to think of potential attacks. Even as he did, however, his mind ran rampant with horrible possibilities. Only decades of training and experience kept his panic pushed to the back of his mind.

One thing was abundantly clear: this was a problem that needed to be resolved now.

He paused at the entry of the vault, his breath held tight in his chest as he braced for the worst. A dim, purple glow arose from small, pod-like structures on the walls and ceiling. Through the lighting he could see something black and round in the back of the room. Slowly, his eyes darting about for threats, he stepped inside.

Empty. No enemies, no guards. He was alone.

Hoofknife exhaled slowly, thanking the Goddess for his luck. He stepped further in, the black gunk sticking unpleasantly to his hooves. A quick look around revealed that the object in the back was the only thing in the vault, so he approached it. What he saw shot his heart into his throat.

Celestia lay on her back, sleeping serenely and looking far better than she had the last time he’d seen her. The lower half of her body was encased in what appeared to be an incomplete cocoon, a kind of biological device that he’d only heard of in rumors. He knew exactly what it was used for, and what would happen to his pretty princess if the thing was completed and allowed to do its terrible work to her mind.

The very thought of what he was seeing almost made Hoofknife vomit. Despite his shaking legs, however, he knew he had to work fast. If the cocoon was incomplete, then the ones responsible for its creation wouldn’t be far away. The Queen could make cocoons like these quickly and within minutes, which meant this one had to be the work of her minions.

That wasn’t as comforting a thought as he’d have liked.

Worse, he now understood why Reddux hadn’t bothered to finish off Estéril Pezuñas.

Hoofknife pulled out a knife and aimed it for the cocoon, ready to cut it away. He would get Celestia out of here and spirit her from the castle. It was the only way to be certain—

Pain seared into his side and he shouted. Before Hoofknife could use his blade, something smashed into the back of his skull. Stars erupted in his vision and he collapsed atop Celestia’s body with a groan. He was dragged off Celestia, and he registered the blood pooled on her chest as his own.

He hit the floor on his side, gasping at the pain of the impact. He started to lift his weapon again, but something black struck the side of his head and it clattered to the floor.

Eyes. Slitted, blue eyes and leering faces.

The last thing he noticed before his world faded was the clicking laughter.

Author's Note

Show of hands: how many saw this coming?

We've got one more chapter at least before things really start to get heated. The story's winding down...

Deception No More

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter XIV
Deception No More

Captain Feathers sat in the hot sun outside the fort, staring at her hooves with faded, unfocused eyes. Fancy had been sitting with her for some time, but had long given up trying to improve her mood. In a way, he’d known it to be a fruitless effort; she’d just lost almost her entire squadron, how was she supposed to cheer up after that?

Only twenty-three Red Wings remained. Even if the servants decided to fight, it still amounted to less than thirty pegasi. What could thirty do against a dragon?

A shadow passed over them. Fancy looked up to find Colonel Mander there with some wooden plates on his back. He offered one to Fancy; it had a couple cucumbers and some hay. Fancy wasn’t hungry, but he took the plate anyway. Another plate was set before Oak. She didn’t even acknowledge it.

Fancy leaned towards her. “C’mon, Captain, you’ve got to—”

“Don’t bother, Fancy,” Colonel Mander grumbled, taking a position on the other side of Oak. “She’ll eat when she’s ready to. Just thought I’d offer it.”

Fancy watched as the colonel started eating, noting he had no cucumbers on his plate. At last Fancy began eating, though he avoided the vegetable. If the colonel wasn’t going to eat them, neither was he.

The sun beat down on the three of them. An occasional wind threatened to steal away their hay. The wounded still lay in the shade of the castle, though most of them had been treated. A small caravan rumbled off in the distance, carrying the dead and most severely injured back to Estéril Pezuñas. The number of wagons seemed so insignificant compared to the number of ponies lost.

They sat in silence, Fancy and the colonel quietly chewing their meal and Oak staring at her hooves. Fancy eyed the cloud that now hovered over the fort. The cheer it had brought had been so very short lived, and the cloud seemed almost mocking in its carefree fluffiness.

Fancy's ears perked as Oak shifted. He turned to find her slowly lifting her plate. She munched on the hay, her eyes hard and her movements robotic. After swallowing her first bite, she finally spoke. “Fancy, do you remember what you told me before the march?”

He said nothing. Colonel Mander glanced at them curiously. Oak finished another bite of hay. Her voice was as hard as steel.

“I’m not sure I want to survive this war.”

Fancy shot an alarmed look at the colonel, who returned it with a dark expression.

Colonel Mander turned back to his plate. “You don’t get a choice in that, Captain.”

Oak’s eyes narrowed, but her gaze was still on her plate. “When that black devil shows up, I’m going to fly down his throat. We’ll see how he laughs with a spear in his gullet.”

“Suicide’s not the way to do it, Oak,” Fancy said.

“Then give me a weakness,” she snarled, her eyes rising. They scorched like the sun. “If you can give me one weakness, I’ll go for it instead. I don’t care what I have to do, that dragon’s going down.”

Colonel Mander sighed and patted her shoulder. “I understand how you feel.”

She slapped his hoof away and turned on him. “Do you? I trained those ponies, Geri. I showed them all my moves. You give me a name and I could have told you the size of the pony’s bucking horseshoe! Don’t tell me you understand!”

He studied her for a few seconds, and Fancy saw what might have been memories floating through the stallion’s eyes. He looked as if he wanted to speak more than anything, to correct her claim of holding a unique pain, but in the end he just turned back to his meal.

“The dragons don’t have a weakness,” Oak grumbled, also focusing on her plate. “I’ll end it. Maybe my kid will have a better chance because of my sacrifice, and the families of all those poor jerks who won’t be coming home.”

The colonel sighed from around his hay. “There must be something.”

“The closest thing we’ve got to an expert is Fancy.” Oak took a crunching bite of one of her cucumbers. “If he’s got nothing, we’re screwed. Having the guts to stand up to Reddux doesn’t make him any more useful than either of us.”

Fancy huddled over his plate with a guilty feeling. He thought on that moment on the beach, when he’d been so determined to face Reddux and help Celestia. He’d been so useless. If Celestia couldn’t stop a dragon, who could?

He closed his eyes and envisioned that moment; the fear, the anger, the instinctual need to act. He could see the red menace’s face, that fanged grin as he flew straight for Fancy. Crystals. He’d actually bothered to fire crystals. How was an attack like that supposed to pierce those scales? The memory filled him with dread; again he watched as his magical creations shattered like glass against scale after scale, never doing anything. The only part they’d managed to get through was—

Fancy’s plate clattered to the ground. He stared at the fort, but he wasn’t looking at it. No, he was looking at an image, frozen in his brain as if time had stopped. Slowly, he brought his eyes up to the cloud.

“Oak?”

The captain grumbled to indicate she’d heard.

“If a pony fell at terminal velocity, what kind of impact would that make?”

She glanced at him with a small frown. “What the hay kind of question is that?”

He ignored her and jumped to his hooves. He gazed at the cloud, concepts rolling around in his skull. When those concepts clicked together, he burst into a gallop for the gate.

“Hey, where are you going?”

Colonel Mander shouted. “Less talking, more following!”

The shade of the cloud covered Fancy, reducing the heat by only a fraction. He charged through the gate and went straight for the guards of the keep’s main entrance. He slid to a stop, dust and dirt flying around him. “Where’s Whinnie? I need to talk to her right away!”

One of the guards pointed. “She’s on the northern wall.”

Fancy bolted, running right past Oak and Colonel Mander as they caught up. They said nothing, only turned to pursue.

Fancy raced up the steps three at a time. Once at the top, he spotted Whinnie standing just above the fort’s main gate, staring after the caravan heading north. Fancy came to another sliding stop.

“Lieutenant Colonel! I need to talk to Commander Dune. Bring me into the keep!”

Whinnie gave him a perplexed frown, then shook her head. “Sorry, Fancy, no can do.” She gestured to the horizon. “The commander’s with the caravan.”

Captain Feathers landed on the wall beside Fancy. “What? He abandoned us?”

“Watch your tone, Captain.” Whinnie shot her a scowl. “For your information, the commander’s going to Estéril Pezuñas to try and recruit more soldiers. He knows we don’t stand a chance after this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Fancy declared with confidence. “The dragons have a weakness, and I know how to exploit it! We can—”

“First Lieutenant!” Whinnie stomped. “It is my job now to see that what few defenders we have are ready to enact the commander’s plan. I simply don’t have time to entertain your illusions of grandeur.”

“What?” Oak launched and hovered over them. “He said he knows of a weakness! Weren’t you listening?”

“We already have a plan,” Whinnie countered. “The longer we stand here coming up with hair-brained alternatives, the less drilling we can perform preparing for it. Now stand aside, I have work to do.”

Yet when Whinnie turned around, she walked right into the broad chest of Colonel Mander. He stared down at her with his best stone-faced scowl. “I think it’s in everypony’s best interest to at least hear what the First Lieutenant has to say.”

Whinnie stepped back, but managed to meet him glare-for-glare. “Well then it’s a good thing you aren’t in charge here. Stand aside, Colonel.”

Fancy threw up his hooves. “I can’t believe that you actually think Commander Dune’s plan will succeed!”

“It’s the plan we came up with!” Whinnie turned on him. “You were there. All of you were there! You agreed to it.”

“We didn’t agree to anything,” Oak growled. “You and the commander said ‘this is how it’s going to be’ and pulled rank if we gave any criticism.”

Whinnie thrust a hoof at her. “You’re on thin ice.” The hoof turned to Fancy. “I am not changing the plan this late in the game. Respect the chain of command!”

“The chain of—” Colonel Mander’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes bulging and his face red.

“That’s right, the chain of command.” Whinnie turned to him. “Is that understood, Colonel?”

Colonel Mander stood there in silence, his upper lip twitching. Fancy thought there might be steam coming out of his ears. This image worried him; the last time the colonel had behaved in such a way, he’d given up and stormed out. Fancy glanced at Oak, but she was watching Whinnie in the same way Fancy imagined a hawk eyes prey.

Colonel Mander turned with a jerk and marched to the edge of the wall, facing down into the courtyard. He shouted, the sudden sound making Fancy jump as it boomed across the fort. “Soldiers of the 8th Battalion, let me ask you all a question: do you like being under the command of an officer who sits all day in his cool tower while you drill in the endless sun?”

Most of the ponies below – caught off guard by the abrupt query – shared questioning looks, but more than a few of them answered “Neigh!”

Whinnie bared her teeth. “What are you doing?”

“Do you want to follow a commander who ignores the words of his advisers and the needs of his soldiers?”

The neighs were louder this time.

“Colonel, I’m warning you—” Whinnie leaned back as Oak shook a hoof in her face.

Colonel Mander surveyed the gathering crowd. His eyes shined with anger. “Do you want to obey the orders of a stallion who happily sends most of our battalion, our friends and companions, on a suicide mission for no reason?”

The outcry filled the air, fueled by anger and pain. Whinnie’s eyes went wide at the sight of the guardponies joining in.

“And when that commander abandons you to the mercy of the enemy so he can rest easy in Estéril Pezuñas—” He thrust a hoof at Whinnie, who shrank at the sudden attention, “—do you have any intention of following the lapdog officer he chose to command in his stead?”

The soldiers and guards stomped and shouted, raising dust as they cried their frustration.

The colonel clapped his heavy hoof on Fancy’s shoulder. “We have with us a survivor of the Slaughter of Sueño, the one pony who stood with Princess Celestia against Reddux on the beach of Estéril Pezuñas!”

Fancy felt his cheeks burn as the crowd all but screamed its approval.

“He has a plan!” Colonel Mander shook Fancy, nearly knocking him over in the process. “He believes he knows a way to bring down a dragon!”

Fancy felt his legs wobble as more cheers hit his ears.

“But no!” Colonel Mander’s leg was flung Whinnie’s way again. Her yellow face had gone white. “The Lieutenant Colonel says we should stick to Commander Dune’s plan, the same plan the two of them dreamed up while ignoring the advice of me, the Captain of the Red Wings and the Hero of Sueño!”

The cheers reverted to angry shouts. Whinnie gulped.

“So you tell us: would you rather follow the chain of command, or do you want to kill a dragon!?”

The ponies below stomped and cheered with such enthusiasm Fancy thought he felt the wall shake beneath his hooves. Even the wounded ponies were shouting their approval.

“Y… y-you can’t do this!” Whinnie’s eyes darted about. “This is treason. Mutiny! When the commander finds out about this, he’ll have your heads!”

“Red Wings, to me!” Captain Feathers rose to hover high above the wall, and she was soon joined by her remaining pegasi. She looked down at Fancy with a firm smile. “We’re with you, First Lieutenant. That dragon will go down long before the last Red Wing loses her wings!” Her squadron gave a unified cry, every one of them possessing an expression of fierce determination.

“You have no idea the trouble you’re in!” Whinnie turned on the colonel. “You’re all going to be court martialed! If you know what’s good for—”

The colonel caught her in his hooves and threw her effortlessly over the wall. She shrieked, but a pair of pegasi caught her just before she hit the ground. They deposited her in the dirt, the soldiers forming a wide circle around her. She trembled in the center, head swiveling to take in their dark faces.

Colonel Mander sneered and pointed to the keep. “Lock that no-account up in the commander’s office!”

The soldiers shouted their approval as two of the guards grabbed Whinnie and dragged her to the keep. She made no attempt to fight them, though she did shoot a dark look back towards the wall. “You’re going to regret this! Every last one of you!”

The front doors closed with a bang and the world went silent. All eyes turned to Fancy, who had been rooted to the spot ever since Whinnie’s fall. He swallowed the lump in his throat. His heart pounded in his swelling chest. No amount of stuttering could get his appreciation out. After a while he dropped to his haunches and released a long, slow breath.

Fancy looked up at Captain Feathers and her Red Wings. She nodded to him, a confident smirk on her lips. He gazed at Colonel Mander, who returned the look with a firmness only he could muster. He looked down at the soldiers below, who were all watching with expectant expressions.

“Well, stop gawking! Let’s hear this plan.” Colonel Mander slapped Fancy’s shoulder with enough force to make him stumble.

“It had better be a damn good one.”

A rumbling sound roused Fleur from her slumber. She jerked to a sitting position, awake in an instant, to find herself beside the tent. The shadows of the cliff kept her somewhat cool, but Fine's non-presence worried her.

“Tialvis! Come out here, you old crone.”

The booming voice filled Fleur with dread. She crept along the side of the tent and peered around it. Fine Crime lay behind the rocks alongside the massive wall of Crater Lake, where they’d chosen to hide from the ponies that patrolled the northern cave. He spotted her and signaled that she should stay low, so she crawled to him on her belly. Upon reaching the rocks, she looked beyond them and let out a gasp: the black dragon she’d seen at Sueño sat before the cave entrance, the ponies all fleeing inside. Her heart pounding, Fleur glanced to Fine, but he only shrugged and indicated that she should listen.

“I grow impatient, eggsitter.” The dragon stamped his claw, generating cracks in the dry earth. “Show your ancient face.”

A deep but feminine voice responded from within the cave. “What is it now, Eruk?” Fleur shrank down behind the rocks as a green dragon – one of the other attackers – brought her long neck out of the cave. “Is there a reason you keep coming to disturb me?”

The dragon turned his gaze about the desolate region. “Reddux has not returned?”

“No.” Tialvis peered at him. “You know he hasn’t had time. What is your real purpose?”

Eruk’s lips curled back in a wicked grin. “I merely wished to reassure the lady that the plan is going well: the army of Celestia was destroyed.” He puffed out his massive chest and flapped his wings, the resulting winds stirring up sand.

Tialvis gave a derisive sniff. “So you came to gloat. Again.”

Eruk rubbed his chest with a smug expression. “Jealous? I am sorry that you must waste your time safeguarding a bunch of unborn hatchlings while Reddux and I have our fun, even if that is the proper role of females.”

“There is nothing fun about the slaughter of the ponies,” Tialvis corrected with a low growl. “I am doing my duty and preserving the future of our race!”

Fine nudged Fleur. “You hear that? Sounds like they're hoarding eggs in there.”

Fleur nodded, but then scrunched her face in thought. “But I thought Parjin said dragon females rarely have more than one egg. Why would there be a lot in one place?”

“Do not act so noble,” Eruk hissed at Tialvis. “You are as selfish as I am, eggsitter. Nursing those hatchlings will not replace the egg you lost.”

Tialvis let out a roar that shook the earth. She came forward, her arms appearing in the sunlight as she raised herself up. “You insulting worm! You are no better! Tell me, Eruk: does it make you feel proud murdering the ponies when your mate is already dead?”

Eruk let out a bellow to rival Tialvis’s, his claws reaching for her throat, but he stopped himself just short of grasping it. His arms shook and his face contorted in rage and effort, but at last he turned away from her. “Do not speak of her to me. It’s not my fault!”

“Of course it isn’t.” Tialvis relaxed and lowered herself back into the cave. “You must not blame yourself, Eruk.”

“I should have been awake,” Eruk hissed, his claws opening and closing repeatedly. “I should have protected her!”

“Even dragons cannot stay awake forever.” She reached a claw for his back.

He jerked away, launching to hover over her. “Do not touch me! I won’t be touched by another female for as long as I live!”

“That will be a long time,” Tialvis observed. “Tell me, ponyslayer: when you have drank your fill of their blood and their dragonslayer is dust, will you be satisfied?”

“Never.” Eruk landed well away from her. “I could kill every last pony in the land and not be satisfied. I will not give them the chance to kill another female. Never again.”

Tialvis tilted her head. “Is that why you keep coming back? To ensure I am safe?”

Eruk sneered and looked away. He made no attempt to answer.

Just then, Fine shifted and groaned. Fleur turned to find him lying on his barrel and clutching his head in trembling hooves. With a small gasp, she dropped to his side and tried to look at his face, but it was well hidden beneath his canons. “Fine, what’s wrong?”

“Be quiet,” he hissed through clenched teeth. His entire body began to shake.

Fleur stared at him, a sense of helplessness coming over her. She reached for him, hesitated and pulled back. He sucked in sharp, gasping breaths, his back heaving, and she could hear indecipherable whispering from beneath his legs. With no idea what to do, she crept back and watched with bated breath.

There was no telling how long the apparent fit lasted, but finally Fine came out of it. He heaved a long gasp and stretched his entire body, then fell panting to the dirt.

Chewing her lip, Fleur approached. “F-Fine? Are you okay?” Her ears perked to the sound of beating wings. She looked over the rocks to see Eruk flying north once again. Tialvis was gone entirely.

Fleur turned back to Fine, who hadn’t moved. She bent down to study his face, only to find that his fringe had flopped over it. She reached a shaky hoof to move it, but paused; the roots of his mane were red. As she pondered this change, Fine groaned and began to sit up.

“Well,” he grumbled, “three weeks are up.”

“W-what was that?”

He brushed his mane back and shook himself as if to remove water. “I had a vision, and a strong one.”

She blinked. “A… vision?”

“Yep.” He ignored her stare and approached the rocks. “So they’re gone. This is a golden opportunity.”

Fleur walked up next to him and tried to look him in the eye. “What’s a vision?”

“It’ll be easier to show you than to explain,” he claimed. “I need to move quickly to make this work. Stay here.”

“Wait!” She jumped to her hooves as he began to climb over the rocks. “Where are you going?”

“Those ponies will be coming out of the caves soon,” he replied. “I’m going to capture one and drag him back here for an interrogation. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon, and then you’ll see who you’re really working with.”

She watched him go with wide eyes. He’d spoken so casually, but something told her his definition of ‘interrogation’ involved more than just a few questions. Shuffling, she watched as he galloped towards the caves, covering a surprising amount of distance in a short time. Was he really that confident he could just kidnap a pony?

Then again, he did claim to be an assassin. Did assassins also kidnap from time to time?

She dropped back into the shade of the rocks to ponder what she’d seen. There had been so much information coming so quickly, from Fine and the dragons. That ‘Eruk’ had spoken of a pony killing his mate in her sleep, or at least that was what she’d gathered from the conversation. Surely something like that would have been common knowledge in Equestria, right? One doesn’t just kill a dragon and not boast about—

Her eyes went wide in sudden understanding. To think, Daring Deeds was revered as the dragonslayer! If all his tales of heroism had been a lie, what would that do to his reputation? She started to smile, but her idea collapsed instantly with the realization that she had no proof.

With a groan, she shoved thoughts of that bastard aside and refocused on Fine Crime. He’d said he’d had a ‘vision,’ but it looked more like an ‘attack’ to her. Was he suffering from some kind of illness? He’d said something about three weeks passing. This wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned that timespan: he’d also talked about a three week time limit when he mentioned an interest in killing her. She’d come to think that he was trying to scare her, perhaps to test her conviction again. Could there be some correlation?

And what of his mane? Where had that red come from? Had it always been there and she’d just never noticed? Fleur pondered in the shadows for a long time, lost in her thoughts as she struggled for answers that just wouldn’t come. She wished he would be straightforward with her some more, instead of misleading her into these circular thoughts.

Something white flew over the rocks, jolting her from her reverie. It was a pegasus, who hit the ground with a low groan. She stared at the mare, momentarily stunned beyond comprehension, but then Fine climbed back over the rocks.

“You weren’t kidding,” she whispered, taking a cautious step towards the pegasus. The poor pony had a broken wing and her orange mane was a mess of tangles.

“Keep back.” Fine pushed her towards the tent, his horn shining red. “Give me a moment.” He sat and raised his horn high. He concentrated with his eyes closed for several long seconds, and then the magic spread in a wide circle before fading away. He smiled and turned to the pegasus, who was just beginning to climb to her hooves.

“Now then, you’re going to answer some questions.”

The pegasus shook her head and scowled. “I’m not answering a thing. All I have to do is scream and the rest will be on you in an instant.”

“Not if you scream while inside my silencing barrier, they won’t.” Fine took a few steps closer, his manner ominous. “Look, just play along and this will all be over.”

The pegasus peered at the sky, clearly considering the possibility that Fine was bluffing.

“First,” Fine said, catching her attention, “why is Tialvis guarding a bunch of dragon eggs?”

“Go to Tartarus!” The pegasus turned and started to run, but before she could get two steps something red formed before her legs: it was a thin, glowing sword. It stabbed into her hoof and she fell with a cry. Fleur winced and felt a moment of trepidation for what was about to happen, but she refused to look away.

Fine jerked the aural weapon out and sat before the pegasus. “Now now, there’s no need to make this needlessly messy. I—” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Well, well…”

Fleur saw it, too: the blood oozing out of the pony’s wound was green. She gaped at it, trying to process what she was seeing.

“Secret’s out.” Fine lowered the blade so it was aimed at the pegasus’s throat. “Why not drop the disguise, hmm?”

The pegasus glared at him… then smirked. Something akin to green flames rose up her body, making Fleur gasp at the sight of black, chitinous legs, bug-like wings and a twisted horn. The creature flashed her a fanged grin and winked with big, otherworldly blue eyes. She’d heard stories of changelings, but to actually see one…

“I’m less inclined to be nice to a bug,” Fine grumbled, catching the changelings attention. “You know what I want. Talk, and I’ll make this quick.”

The changeling’s horn began to glow. “Or I can just—” It’s words caught as Fine pressed the tip of his weapon against its throat.

Fine’s dagger rose, the wire lifting over his head, and began to glow brightly. His face had become as hard as stone, and there was a menace in his eyes Fleur had only seen once. That gaze had terrified her before, and it wasn’t pleasant to look upon now. His voice dripped with ominous intent that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Try it, bug. I dare you.”

The changeling’s eyes went wide and it swallowed. Slowly, the light in its horn died down.

“Good.” Neither blade moved. “The eggs?”

The changeling’s strange eyes shifted from side to side as though in search of a solution to its dilemma. After a couple seconds of thought, it spoke. “The Queen made a deal with Reddux to steal dragon eggs and make it appear the ponies were responsible. He intends to raise them as an army.”

Fleur gasped and jumped to her hooves. “The ships!” At their curious looks, she said, “The bodies on the ships, the ones untouched by the dragons! That was your doing, wasn’t it?”

Fine considered her, then looked to the changeling. “Answer her.”

The changeling regained its wicked grin. “Yes, we did it. We found the survivors and drained them of all their love until they were nothing but mindless husks. Do it long and fast enough and their brains just shut down.”

Fleur stepped back, a chill running down her spine. “Y-you’re a monster.”

“We’re just trying to survive,” the changeling replied simply. “Do you have any idea how little food we have? Our race is starving.”

“Not our fault,” Fine grumbled, “and not what I care about at the moment. What else were you planning?”

The changeling once again smiled, this time smugly. “A little something for your precious pony princess.”

Fine’s expression darkened. “Explain.”

“Part of our deal with Reddux was that he couldn’t kill Celestia, only wound her and force her into a regenerative sleep.” The changeling giggled. “She should be in a pod as we speak, having her mind warped and twisted. Soon she’ll be another loyal follower of our glorious queen!”

Fleur gasped. “No! Fine, we have to go back and warn—”

Fine’s leg rose, effectively silencing her. His cool eyes, still set with that terrible menace, never left the changeling’s. “I think we’re almost out of time. Is there anything else you want to add?”

The changeling was undeterred by his manner. “Not a thing, save that the swarm will soon take you both. You think they won’t notice I am missing?”

Fine nodded. “So be it. Fleur?”

His eyes were like daggers, and they rooted her to the spot. “Y-yes?”

“Remember what I told you about learning the truth about me?” She nodded, and he turned his eyes back to the smug changeling. “You’re about to get your lesson. Things are going to get very dangerous, so whatever you do, stay right there. No matter what you see, don’t speak, don’t cry, and for your own sake, don’t run. Understood?”

“Umm… yes?”

“Good.”

“Aren’t we dramatic?” The changeling leaned forward, pressing its throat against the blade. “Go on, then! I’m happy to die for the Swarm.”

Fine heaved a deep breath and closed his eyes. He remained that way for several seconds, still as stone. The changeling shifted and cast a glance at Fleur, but she only shrugged.

Fine’s eyes opened wide and a broad, toothy grin formed on his face.

“You won’t be.”

The dagger floating at his side shot forward, encased in a powerful red aura. It pierced the changeling’s horn at the hilt, the tip of the blade punching through the other side. The changeling let out a cry and started to fall back, but its body jerked to a stop as the blade rose a few inches. The creature grappled with the weapon in its horn.

The shriek was like a white-hot blade piercing Fleur’s brain. She covered her ears and stared slack-jawed as the blade twisted. The changeling struggled to move its head to accommodate the motion.

“Stop!” The changeling squirmed and clawed at its head. “For the love of Mantis, stop!”

There was a resounding crack, a jagged line forming in the poor thing’s horn as the knife completed its turn. Fine jerked the blade out and the changeling collapsed in a sobbing mess, green blood covering its head.

“That’s a lovely sound,” Fine whispered, his bulging eyes studying the slowly rotating knife. He still held that wicked grin. “So pleasant, so sweet.” He took a step towards the changeling. “Won’t you sing for me some more?”

“You’re crazy!” The changeling charged him, but the blood was in its eyes. Fine dodged easily, and as he did the aural sword sliced low and cut off one of its hooves, green gunk spraying across the rocks.

Fleur covered her mouth, a sick feeling in her stomach. She saw the damage, the blood littering the ground, and looked upon Fine. Yet she realized quickly that the pony before her wasn’t Fine, not even remotely. He might not even qualify as equine anymore. She wanted to run and hide from this… this thing that used to be her companion, but she didn’t dare move.

“Crazy, crazy, crazy. Yes…” Fine turned, his mouth opening wide in a hideous leer as he turned back to the changeling. “I’m so crazy, oh so crazy.” He began to approach it again.

“K-keep away from me…” The changeling tried to stand, but dropped with a cry. Blood seeped from both its forelegs. “No, d-don’t come any closer!” Its horn shined green for barely a second before it cried out and clutched at its head.

Fine was standing over it. He emitted a high pitched chuckle and leaned over its flank. “Blood. Look at all the pretty blood.”

The changeling gave a one-legged buck that caught him in the shoulder. Fine grunted and caught the leg with one of his. He shifted his hold and twisted, putting the changeling in a leg lock. His hideous grin spread, if such was possible, and he began to bend the leg.

“Stop it!” The changeling tried to crawl away, leaving green streaks on the earth. “St-stop! Please! You can’t—”

Fine jerked his body; the leg bent backwards at the knee with a crunch.

The changeling shrieked.

Fleur turned around, dropped to her barrel and covered her ears and face as best she could. She forced down a sob as the changeling continued to scream. Her legs twitched with the urge to bolt, but Fleur refused to obey that instinct. Fine had warned her, and the logical part of her mind told her that she had to heed that warning.

The changeling began to plead for mercy. Fine laughed.

Don’t speak.

The pleas for mercy became cries for help. Fleur felt tears in her eyes.

Don’t cry.

The cries became indecipherable, reduced to hideous, gurgling moans.

And whatever you do…

Fine’s voice split the air: “More, more, more, more!”

Don’t run.

Fleur didn’t know how long she’d lain there, trembling and wishing she were somewhere else. The changeling’s screeches had brought forth older screams, screams that were more familiar to her. Screams of Sueño. She didn’t want to think or hear or see; she just wanted it all to end.

The noises eventually faded. Still, Fleur made no attempt to get up. In time the screams also vacated her mind. She shivered in the dirt, her breath coming in gasps, and very slowly removed her hooves from her ears. Strained breathing reached her. Slowly, anxiously, Fleur climbed to her hooves. It took time to build up her courage, but at last she turned around. She promptly retched, her throat constricting and a stinging pain in her chest.

The changeling was hardly recognizable. It was little more than a black lump oozing green. Its head had been smashed in, the jaw hanging loosely above shattered chitin and gore. Its limbs twisted at odd angles and its body had been torn open in several places. Fine’s knife remained stuck inside the ugly mass.

Fine was sitting with his back to both it and her. He trembled, his entire body rising and falling with his labored breaths. A mess of vomit decorated the ground next to him. Fleur didn’t dare move, lest she call his attention to her. Her eyes darted about, but she knew better than to flee now; he wouldn’t have any difficulty catching her.

Yet for all her fear, Fleur realized something: she was curious. After all the time they’d spent together, she’d come to believe that he was dangerous, but this? Though it might lead to her death, she had to know why Fine had done it. She opened her mouth, hesitated, closed it again.

This was insane. She had to find a way to—

She gasped and began to work her magic. Within a second the spell had been cast and the invisibility veil floated between them. He might not see her… and maybe he’d calm down? It was the only idea she had that seemed even remotely sound.

Fine’s horn shined. His knife pulled out of the changeling with a sickening squelch, then floated over to him. He turned to study it, giving Fleur a good look at his face. Gone was that terrible grin and those insane eyes. Now he appeared only tired and depressed, his shoulders sagged and his eyelids drooped. He reached up, his hoof smeared with green, and rubbed the flat of the blade.

“I’m sorry, Sugarcube,” he whispered. “That’s sixty-five.”

Fleur worked her lips. “F… F-Fine?”

He glance towards the sound of her voice, then turned away. The wire holding the knife slipped around his neck once more. “It’s alright. It’s safe… for another three weeks, anyway.”

She looked from him to the corpse and back. Her heart continued to pound in her chest. “W-why did you do that?”

“Because I’m a monster,” he whispered. “I’m sick in the head. I c-can’t stop.” He bent over and covered his face with trembling hooves. “Now do you understand, Fleur? You never should have c-come with me.”

Fleur tried to control her breathing. She closed her eyes and concentrated, her stomach steadying. When she opened her eyes, however, she spotted a piece of black flesh and had to cover her lips. She turned away and focused her eyes on the tent, just to have something else to look at. Even as she fought for control, however, her mind was running through everything she knew about Fine.

“So… why did you bring me along?”

He sighed. “You were going to come regardless.”

“You could have stopped me,” she whispered. “We both know that now.”

She waited for Fine to respond. Seconds passed. She shifted and dared to glance over her shoulder. He hadn’t moved, and he wasn’t looking at her.

“Fine, talk to me.”

He hunched down. “You should be running away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He raised his head. “Aren’t you scared?”

She chewed her lip and tried not to think of the mess just behind her. Instead she noted how she still had goosebumps, and that her heart still acted as a battering ram for her ribs. “I’m terrified.”

He turned at last, his moist eyes meeting hers despite the invisibility veil. “So why stay?”

She thought on the question, looking back on everything he’d told her since they’d left the castle. One line stood out, and she latched onto it. With the firmest, most determined look she could muster, she answered.

“Because I refuse to succumb to my fear.”

His lips parted slightly and his eyebrows rose. He stared in her general direction for some time, all sadness and anger and weariness gone from his face. What he held in his expression now was something she’d never seen in him before: wonder. Fleur had to lock her legs to keep from fidgeting under that gaze.

At last, Fine smiled. The sight broke her from her solid state, for it was a warm and gracious smile, the kind she imagined he’d never be able to have.

“That’s a good answer,” he said with a small nod.

Fleur blushed and glanced away, but that lead to her looking at the hideous lump between them. She felt her stomach heave and covered her lips, jerking about to face the tent once more. “S-so, this ‘illness’ of yours. Um… once every three weeks?”

“I’ve managed to push through the withdrawal symptoms for eight weeks before.” He shuddered. “I don’t intend to try that again.”

Withdrawal symptoms? She shook the stray thought away. “But you won’t be dangerous for three, right?”

“That’s the usual span of time, yes. It varies by a few days.”

“Alright, then.” She turned to look at him from the corner of her eye, the best way to avoid the mess. “What do we do now?”

Fine hadn’t lost that warm smile. “You’re a gutsy kid, you know that?”

She cringed as her stomach churned. “Please don’t talk about guts right now.”

His smile faded and he turned away. “Sorry. What now?” He stood and shook his hooves in a vain attempt to get rid of the blood. “Now we enter the caves and see if we can’t find some eggs.”

“The eggs?” Fleur stood and walked gingerly around the stains in the dirt, passing through the veil she'd formed. “What about Celestia? She could be in trouble.”

“She probably is,” Fine acknowledge, his expression now resolute. “Estéril Pezuñas is too far away, it’ll take days to get there by hoof. By the time we arrive, it will almost certainly be too late. I’ll send a letter to my boss warning him of the situation, but that’s the most we can do. Our job is to find those eggs; without them, we have no proof that Reddux and the changelings are framing Equestria for the sake of war.”

With a sigh, she came alongside him, her eyes drifting briefly to the ever-still sun. “I hope Celestia is okay.”

Fine snorted derisively. “If it was just her and her royal guards, I wouldn’t count on it. My boss is in the city, though, and he’s actually competent, so she’ll be fine.”

Fleur blinked. “You don’t think Celestia’s competent?”

“Not even remotely.” Fine looked at the blood on his chest and cringed. “I should probably take a quick dip in the lake; this stuff is gonna draw plenty of attention.”

She glanced at the nearby corpse and shivered. “I think I’ll go with you.”

“Then let’s not waste anymore time.” He turned and approached the cliffs surrounding the lake. “I think I saw a ledge we could climb up this way. Oh, and Fleur?”

She walked alongside him, but kept her distance. “Yes?”

His warm smile was back. “Thanks.”

She cocked her head. “For what?”

“Nothing.” He held his head high and moved at a trot. “Just thanks.”

She watched him move ahead with a perplexed frown. After a few seconds, she glanced back at the corpse. The sight of it threatened her stomach yet again, so she hurried to catch up. Though she didn’t know exactly what she was dealing with in Fine, she was prepared to go along with him. Even with this, he was still less of a monster than Daring Deeds.

After all, monsters don’t show remorse.

Author's Note

What's this, I'm updating on Super Bowl Sunday? Why yes, yes I am. Is that a bad move? Not according to the 'online users' counter down there.

How many of you forgot about the scene that introduced Fine in this story? Bet it makes a little more sense now, huh? Those of you who have read No Heroes will understand his situation far better than others.

In The Depths

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter XV
In The Depths

“I can’t believe we’re just going to walk right in,” Fleur muttered.

Fine glanced at her as they made their way along the crater wall. “If you have a better solution, I’m all ears.”

She bit her lip and said nothing, but kept her head held high.

Up ahead loomed the massive cave from which Tialvis had appeared. It had to have been at least fifty feet tall. Not for the first time, Fine wondered how it had even formed… unless it had been made. He wondered if the dragons had carved the hole for some unknown purpose. There were disguised changelings lingering about the cave, apparently there to gather water from the crater above. Fine found this curious; shouldn’t there be a pool or something within?

He glanced over at his companion. Fleur was putting on a good show: there was only a tiny tremble in her legs and her face betrayed none of the fear that he knew had to be bubbling just beneath the surface. He’d considered telling her to stay behind before, but now he refused to even suggest it. Fleur was a strong pony, far more so than any filly her age deserved to be. Furthermore, her refusal to back down – even upon seeing what he was – had cemented his feelings of respect for her. Holding her back would only be an insult to what he now knew she was capable of.

With the right polish, he suspected she could be so much more.

“So,” Fleur whispered as they came under the cave’s shadow, “any plans for when one of them tries to talk to us?”

He shrugged. “Wing it.”

“Just like that, hmm?” She shivered as one of the changelings, disguised as an orange-coated and red-maned mare, gave them a nod while they walked past. “Cutie mark, don’t fail me now.”

The moment they passed under the shadows of the cave, the air grew cooler. Fine had expected water to be dripping from the ceiling, but it was bone dry beneath his hooves. His chest became tight as the world grew steadily darker; he had the horrible sensation that they were entering the dark depths of Tartarus itself. Given that they probably wouldn’t be coming out alive, the approximation may not be too far off the mark.

He felt Fleur move close to his side and shot her a brief glance. The filly was chewing her lip, and he could just make out the shaking in her shoulders. He said nothing; no words would help in this dark situation.

Their hoofsteps echoed in the dim cavern, resounding likes ghosts in the gloom. The sunlight gradually retreated, making way for a world of hard stone and cold shadows. Despite the danger, Fine found himself relaxing. He welcomed the soothing absence of light, felt the energy coming back to his legs, delighted in the chance to slip away; with these colors and sensations he was intimately familiar. He was tempted to use a little magic to pull the darkness towards himself, all to improve his chances of disappearing amongst the darkness. Still, he held back; it wouldn’t do to lose Fleur due to his giddiness.

Fleur hissed at him. “Is there a reason you’re smiling like a demented foal?”

He shook off his moment of pleasure. “Sorry.”

She cast her eyes about the gloom. “You don’t even look scared.”

“Oh, I’m scared,” he replied solemnly. “I’m also excited.”

“You’re a scary pony, you know that?”

Fine couldn’t help but smile.

Just as the last rays of sunlight threatened to fade, a new light appeared up ahead. It was a soft, violet glow that Fine considered somewhat pleasant. As they approached, he found his hooves covered in a sticky substance. He noted Fleur’s shiver and saw her purple-colored face twist in disgust, but neither of them paused. Soon they came upon the source of the glow; a collection of round pods protruding from a black, smooth material that covered the cave walls, ceiling and floor.

A changeling – or rather, a white-coated and brown-maned unicorn – emerged from a smaller cave in the side of the tunnel. She nodded to the two of them and continued to the entrance, a quartet of empty wooden buckets floating before her.

As soon as she was out of sight, Fleur leaned close to Fine. “Do you think they’re just gathering water for themselves?”

“Most likely.”

She paused to examine the bottom of her hoof, which had a thin coat of black gunk. “What is this stuff?”

He hissed as she hurried to catch up. “Are you trying to advertize that we don’t belong? ‘Cause questions like that are sure to do it.”

She winced and clamped her teeth together, wide eyes darting about the shadows. Fine sighed and shook his head. “Just keep quiet for now.”

They continued through the main tunnel and its violet aura. Several side-tunnels appeared in the gloom, but he ignored all of them; only the one he was on was large enough for Tialvis to pass, and it was her he needed to locate. Every now and then a changeling would cross their path. Some were disguised, but as they went deeper they found more and more in the usual black, chitin-covered bodies. The first few put Fine and Fleur both on edge, but the changelings only passed with the conventional greetings of strangers.

“How long can we go like this before they start to suspect us?” Fleur whispered in Fine’s ear after a trio of changelings passed them by with little more than a few friendly nods.

“As long as it takes,” Fine whispered back. “Don’t worry, I’ve got an excuse for our disguises.”

She glowered at him. “Care to clue me in?”

Fine opened his mouth to speak and paused. His eyes caught something in a nearby tunnel, something… green. “Hold on a moment.”

He guided Fleur into the side tunnel. His heart pounded in his chest and his throat was dry like the Zebrara. He entered into a large cave that was dimly illuminated not with purple, but a sickly green. On the walls, shifting patterns danced like light on water, giving the area an eerie glow. What Fine saw within that place filled him with an intense nausea.

Large green pods were lined against the walls and hanging from the ceiling. There was at least a dozen of them, all filled with a green liquid . In each one was a pony, sleeping blissfully in the dark.

Except not all of them were ponies.

Not anymore.

Fine sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the earth pony in the nearest pod. Half of her face had become blackened and twisted, malformed as if something were growing beneath the hide. Large portions of her body shared the same hideous distortions, making her appear half-bloated. Worst of all was the adoring, pristine smile that the normal half of her face bore in slumber. He’d heard of this, he knew what was happening to her, but he’d never witnessed it before. The sight brought him close to vomiting, especially when he imagined Celestia in one of these pods. He abruptly found himself praying that Hoofknife was doing his job properly.

The room was filled with changelings keeping watch over the transformation process. It took all Fine had to maintain a solemn, emotionless expression at the sight of their hideous work. Fleur, however, looked as if she might faint at any second. He brushed her shoulder and started to guide her out…

“You two.”

He flinched and grimaced, swallowing the bile that had risen from his throat. He turned to find a changeling, a little taller than the others, approach. Given the nature of its voice, he could only suppose it was a male.

The changeling’s eyes went first to Fine, then to Fleur. He wore a taught frown. “I was unaware there were any soft shells assigned to this mission.”

Fine somehow managed to force a smile from his lips. “We are only passing through on our way to the pony lands. We have a mission of our own, but need to rest before we continue.”

At that, the changeling shook his head. “I knew the Queen was permitting soft shells to join the fight, but I had hoped to never see it. Is our hive really that desperate?”

Fleur turned on him, her eyes harsh. “This soft shell may be a lot harder than you think.”

The changeling let out a hiss of a sigh. “We all thought that at your age. I hope your first run-in with an Archon doesn’t leave you a hollow shell. Or maybe I do; perhaps that will be better.”

“Arch—”

Fine thrust his hoof before Fleur’s face. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the changeling. “I’m here to at least try to keep her safe. Her confidence will be her downfall if she doesn’t harden up quick.”

To her credit, Fleur didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll show you all! The ponies won’t even know I’m there.”

At that, the changeling smiled grimly. “Then it’s good you’re practicing your powers. You’ll need them.”

“Indeed.” Fine smirked at Fleur, though he suspected it came out more like a grimace. “She thinks she can hold her form longer than me. We shall see.”

“Hmmph.” The changeling rolled his unnatural blue eyes. “Softshells. You need to molt a few more times before you can beat an adult, little softy.”

Fleur growled, but her eyes shifted past the changeling. Her ears folded, betraying her as she stared at the malformed pony in the pod. The changeling caught her look and turned to study the pod. “First time seeing it?”

Fine resisted the urge to give Fleur a comforting pat… and the swirling sickness in his barrel. “I thought it would be good for her to see before she goes out there.”

The changeling nodded, his eyes set on the pod with a deep frown. “I know, it’s ugly. It’s even uglier when the skin starts molting off. Some changelings can’t stomach it. Took me a dozen tries before I could sit through the whole thing.” He turned to study Fleur. “You don’t like it?”

Fleur stood as still as stone, her legs spread slightly and her head even with her shoulders. Her breath came in slow gasps as she stared at the hideous pony, her lips working silently. Fine maintained his scowl as best he could and shared what he hoped was a stern look with the changeling.

“Tough.” The changeling sneered, his fangs shining in the shifting green light. “This is what it takes for us to survive now. It ain’t pretty, little soft shell, but that’s war. Remember what it looks like, ‘cause any pony you capture will undergo the same treatment.”

Fine bumped Fleur’s shoulder, but she remained practically catatonic. He faked a sigh and turned to the changeling. “I think it’s sinking in. Too late for her to change her mind, though. Better bring her out, let her figure things out, but first: is the dragon here? I’d like to see one while I still have the chance.”

The changeling’s sneered was instantly replaced by a broad grin. “We’ll be seeing a lot more of those soon, I’m sure. Once that witch Celestia becomes one of us, we’ll share her precious pony kingdom with the dragons. It’ll be glorious!” He kicked at the pod with a back leg, making the liquid inside slosh and gurgle. “Then we won’t have to do this anymore. It’s a real shame our Queen can’t be here to lead us in this mission, but that only means we must work hard in her absence and make her proud! Praise Chrysalis.”

“Praise Chrysalis.” The name tasted rancid on Fine’s lips. “Perhaps we’ll see one another again before we leave.” He guided a stumbling, silent Fleur by the shoulders and made for the exit.

“Feel free to bring the soft shell back for a second look,” the changeling called after them. “Will do her good.”

Fleur said nothing for some time. Fine half-led, half-dragged her back into the main tunnel and further on. They turned a bend in the passage to find a large circle of light shining from the ceiling. At once concerned and curious, Fine brought Fleur into an abandoned side tunnel and had her lie against the wall before heading back to check on the light.

He felt the droplets before he heard them, pattering softly in a small circle. Fine looked up to see pure sunlight streaming from a hole far above. He realized that he was looking at a vent, which perplexed him. Wasn’t the lake right above them? There had to be some kind of shaft or tube rising up from the bottom of the lake all the way to the water’s surface. Natural, perhaps? It seemed unlikely.

Satisfied that the light wasn’t emanating from anything threatening, Fine hurried back to Fleur. He found her shivering in a tight ball on the floor, her eyes wide.

Fine felt his heart hit his throat. He stared at the filly, unable to see anything but her terrified eyes. There was that horrible sensation in his chest, one he’d felt for the first time on the day he’d met her. It was something he was steadily becoming familiar with, no matter how much he didn’t want to. What was he supposed to do now?

He shuffled in place, indecision ripping through his mind. Talk to her? Leave her be? Goddess forbid he might actually hug the filly. He had no idea how to respond. One voice told him, angrily, to let her handle this on her own. After all, it’s what he’d done, and she’d already been through so much, so surely she could cope.

Yet there was another voice, quieter but impossible to ignore.

With a deep sigh, he turned and cast a darkness spell, enshrouding the entrance of the tunnel in black. Now, with the two of them alone in their little hole in the wall, he went to sit by his charge. He fumbled with his hooves before finally moving closer pressing against her side. She responded almost instantly, clutching at his waist with a whimper.

Fine went stiff at the contact, his heart ramming against his chest. Instinct told him to quit while he was ahead and push her away. Instead, after several seconds of paralysis, he managed to move his legs. Not sure if it was the right thing to do, he began stroking her long, pink mane. He waited to see if it would help, but she merely trembled.

He ground his teeth. Why did this whole situation make him feel so… useless? What would make him more comfortable if he were in her horseshoes? He thought on the topic for several minutes, his eyes lingering on the darkness of the small cave. Lips set in a taught frown, he focused on the spell he’d cast and began spreading the black. When it passed over them, he heard Fleur squeak with surprise.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s my doing.”

There was a long, pronounced silence.

“W-why did you make it d-dark?”

He heaved a sigh and relaxed. “I always found it soothing. I was hoping you would, too.”

Fleur kept quiet and didn’t ease her vice-like grip. Fine’s frown returned as he wondered what to do next. He leaned his head back, gazing into the pristine darkness. What to say? What to do? He scoured his brain for something helpful, for once wishing he’d had some kind of experience with comforting others. It wasn’t often that he regretted leading a loner’s life…

He thought back on his stories, on his life. Surely somewhere within his repertoire of knowledge he could find something. His adventures and jobs were of no help, and certainly not his time as a wandering vagabond. What else was there? His father? His moth—

There it was. Just like that.

“Do you remember your mother, Fleur?”

She sniffed, her grip on his waist loosening. “M-mother? I… I was only f-four when she died, but… I remember her face. A little.”

He nodded in the darkness. “I was five when I lost mine, but I still remember her face. She was a veritable angel.” He waited for her to speak. When she didn’t, he continued, “In some cultures, it is said that when a pony dies, if the pony was really good, they will meet their mother.”

“What?”

“A pony’s mother fills them with happiness because a mother’s love is perfect. So always work to make Mom proud, and you’ll be forever happy, even if you lose.” He wrapped a hoof around Fleur’s shoulder and gave her a tight squeeze. “A mother’s love defeats all evil. Mother always protects you, because mother loves you.”

Fine waited, his mind calm and his heart at ease. Yet Fleur’s silence lingered, and he began to wonder if he’d reached her at all.

“Where… where did you hear that?”

He felt his cheeks burning and he coughed. His mind went to his notebook, still hidden among his pouches. “Forget it, I guess it’s not that effective.”

“N-no.” Fleur pressed against him a little more. “I appreciate it. Really.”

He relaxed and let out another long sigh. “I’m sorry. This isn’t really my forte.”

“You’re trying,” she whispered. “That’s all that matters. It’s far more than I’ve ever had.”

“I see.” He smiled in the dark. “Glad to help. I, uh, did help, right?”

“You did.” He felt her nuzzling his shoulder, which only made his cheeks burn more. “But Fine, what they were doing to those ponies… It looked so horrible. Just the idea of it is terrifying. I know it’s not likely, but is there any chance—”

“There’s no time,” he whispered. He shuddered at the memory of those horrible pods. “I don’t know enough about changeling methods to even say if the ponies we saw could be saved. We have a job to do, and I’m sorry to say that trying to save them isn’t part of it. The odds are far enough against us as is.”

Fleur shivered against him. “I… I understand. In that case, I guess we should keep going?”

He blinked and cast his gaze towards the sound of her voice. “You’re ready?”

“No,” she whispered, “but we can’t linger, right? The faster we get this done, the faster we can go back to Equestria.”

Fine’s jaw dropped as he realized that the mission had completely slipped his mind. What was this foal doing to him? He felt tempted to jerk away from her, as though she might be carrying some sort of ‘sentiment sickness,’ but resisted the urge. Instead, he stood slowly and stepped back. “You’re right,” he muttered, “we’d better get going.”

“Okay.” To her credit, she sounded far more confident that he’d expected. “Umm… I can’t see the exit.”

At that, he found himself smiling. “Listen.”

“To wh—”

He shushed her. “Just listen.”

Fine perked his ears and closed his eyes. It was so very quiet, but he could hear it; the faint dripping of the water near the vent. There was a slight echo, but not enough to confuse him. He could also hear the movements of nearby changelings, some coming closer from deeper in the tunnel, others moving away. He turned and made for the exit.

He emerged in the gloomy, pale violet light of the main tunnel. He squinted against the light from the vent and turned to look at the small cave he’d come out of. It was enshrouded in a pitch black shade, just as anticipated.

“What are you doing?”

Fine glanced aside to find a trio of changelings coming towards him from deep within the tunnel. “Training a soft shell.”

“A soft shell?” one of the changelings asked, cocking its head in a way that was so pony-like as to be disturbing. “I didn’t know we had any soft shells on this mission.”

“We’re not on this mission,” he replied as he turned back to the shadow. “Are you coming out or what?”

At last Fleur emerged, her head held high but a slight wobble in her legs. “It’s a lot easier with them giving you away,” she declared.

One of the changelings sniffed unpleasantly. “Sorry, next time we’ll take the long way.” They moved on without giving them so much as a sideways glance.

Fine waited for Fleur to get near him before asking, “So, did you hear what I intended you to?”

Fleur watched the changelings leave before letting out a gasp and sinking to her barrel. “H-how do you just… talk to them like that?”

“I don’t know about physiology,” he replied calmly, “but mentally there’s not much difference between us and them. Just behave normally and have a good excuse planned.”

She managed to stand on wobbling legs. “But they’re the enemy. Aren’t you afraid?”

“I’ll be afraid when they catch on.” He guided her further into the tunnel, past the light from the vent. “I guess it comes with experience.”

After a quick glance at the vent, Fleur hurried to his side. “I’d like to learn.”

“I know.”

She glanced at him as if just noticing he was there. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Will you… will you keep teaching me?”

“If we survive.”

She gasped. “Y-you didn’t even… Fine, you’ll really teach me? I thought you didn’t take apprentices.”

He averted his gaze and forced his lips into a frown. “Yeah, well we might not last long enough for it to amount to anything.”

No more words were exchanged, but Fleur walked with a more confident step. Her smile was assured but small. Fine questioned the wisdom of what he’d told her… yet the more he saw of her, the more convinced he was that it wasn’t a mistake. Whether she’d survive the Archon training he couldn’t tell, but at the very least he felt like she had a good chance. Besides, she deserved to have something to work towards other than her next meal.

Fine’s thoughts drifted towards when he was her age. His disorder hadn’t kicked in yet, but it was still a very lonely time. He still vividly remembered the shame of having nothing to work towards, of not knowing his purpose. In a way, he still didn’t have a purpose; he had just been living from mission to mission, doing what he was told for no other reason than that he needed a direction. True, he felt responsible about his job, but if Hoofknife hadn’t been giving him orders all the time, would he have done anything at all? It was always better to have something to do, to put his skills and quirks to some kind of productive use.

Perhaps that was why he felt so driven to work with Fleur. Could it be that she too needed some sort of direction and purpose? He would offer her that, just as Hoofknife had offered it to him. Fleur would not spend her youth wandering aimlessly, feeling lost and useless like him. Maybe she’d appreciate it, or maybe she’d quit. Either way, she deserved a chance.

They proceeded ever onwards, passing several more vents and side tunnels. Dozens of changelings crossed their path, and more than a few wondered why they hadn’t dropped their disguises. Fine stuck to his story about Fleur’s duration challenge, and they all readily accepted it. With every meeting, Fleur reacted with the anxiety of the inexperienced, but she always managed to hold her own when addressed. Seeing that gave Fine hope for her future.

They’d been traveling for what Fine assumed had been an hour before the situation changed. The ponies found themselves standing in a vast cavern, the floor being some fifty feet below in a sheer drop. The entire cavern was illuminated by the same faint violet glow of the pods against the walls and ceilings, which were dotted with what fine assumed were more vent shafts. On the floor of the cavern, surrounded by stalagmites and a scurrying throng of changelings, were a series of pools, and in between those pools lay Tialvis.

The great green dragon’s neck was craned high above the changelings, her sharp eyes set upon one of the pools. Fine peered at the body of water and saw within dozens of large, half-submerged eggs. “So, Parjin’s suspicions were correct.”

Fleur trembled at his side, her head swaying slowly to take in the entire cavern. “The changelings stole the eggs? They’re providing Reddux all the ammunition he needs.”

“There’s got to be at least sixty eggs in there,” Fine said. “If all of those hatchlings become loyal little Reddux followers, I’m not sure even the dragons of the Burning Lands could stop him from taking over. Those are the seeds of power.”

Abruptly, Tialvis reared back and sucked in a long breath. She let loose a torrent of fire directly upon the eggs. Steam billowed from the pool as the changelings stood by patiently with their buckets, and as soon as the flames faded they marched forward to pour more water into the pool.

“So that’s why they’re collecting the water.” Fine’s ears perked and he stepped aside, letting a quartet of bucket carrying changelings through. They descended down a gradual slope to the right of the entrance, a line of their fellows already marching up the path. “They have to keep replenishing the pool.”

Fleur dropped to her barrel and peered over the ledge, her eyes wide. “B-but why keeps the eggs in water?”

“To evenly distribute the heat, I imagine.” Fine gestured to Tialvis, who was now carefully and lovingly inspecting the eggs. “Even a dragon couldn’t keep all those eggs warm by conventional means.”

Fleur was shivering, but she still managed a deadpan tone. “I don’t think dragons and chickens hatch eggs in the same way, Fine.”

“Excuse me,” he grumbled. “It’s not like I know a lot about dragon anatomy.” He examined her with a frown. “Are you alright?”

“I w-watched as that dragon dropped flightless ponies to their d-deaths. It was a r-rain of screaming bodies.” A violent shiver ran through her. “No, I am not alright.”

Fine pondered the situation, his gaze passing back and forth from Fleur to the eggs. He knew what had to be done, and it would be a lot harder with her in such a state. At the same time, he couldn’t just leave her here to fend for herself. He turned in a circle, scanning the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Where could she stay while he went to work?

His eyes caught a relatively small opening in the wall. It wasn’t far from the exit and only a couple feet above the descent into the cavern. Perfect.

“Come.” He caught Fleur’s hoof and gently tugged her along. She followed, but her legs were wobbling. A quick survey of the opening revealed it to be another vent, this one rising at a steep angle. Rivulets of water ran through it, forming a small puddle at his hooves before descending along the path. He picked Fleur up and set her in the tunnel.

“I want you to use your invisibility veil and hide here.”

Her eyes went wide, her chin trembled. “I c-can take it,” she whispered, but her attempt at confidence failed terribly.

Part of Fine was frustrated, but he managed a smile and reached in to pet her mane. “You’ve done enough to prove yourself, there’s no need to overdo it.”

A group of changeling passed behind him. One paused. “What’s the soft shell’s problem?”

Fine kept his eyes locked with Fleur’s and maintained his smile. “She’s never seen a dragon before.”

The changeling laughed, the sound accompanied by a strange clicking from its throat. “Can’t blame her for that! She’ll get used to it. Unless Tialvis decides to have some changeling fricassee, which she’s done once or twice.”

Fine scowled his way. “Not helping.”

“Hmmph.” The changeling shrugged and went to rejoin his comrades. “This is why soft shells shouldn’t be out here. What is the Queen thinking?”

Fine watched him go with a grimace, then turned back to Fleur. “Listen, I need to get one of those eggs for Parjin. Please, just stay here and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Fleur chewed her lip, her eyes darting over his shoulder, but she finally nodded. He gave her one more pat on the head before turning to march down the slope. He questioned the wisdom of leaving her behind, but steeled himself.

As usual, most of the changelings ignored Fine’s passing. Had this been Canterlot, he would have complained about the lax security. He found it curious that the changelings, who were reviled by the Archons for their ability to disguise themselves and slip through intelligence networks undetected, were susceptible to a pony pretending to be one of them. Shouldn’t they have some kind of check for this type of thing? How could they not even consider it?

Under the circumstances, Fine decided to count his blessings and not fret over it too much. Upon reaching the cavern floor, he cleared his mind of such thoughts and focused on the task at hoof. There were far too many changelings around for him to make off with an egg and not be discovered. Even if the dozens of changelings weren’t an issue, Tialvis was watching the eggs with all the doting of a mother.

Flames and steam filled the air as Tialvis breathed on the pool once more. Fine watched the scene with a peering gaze. A plan began to form in his head. He had the tools, he just needed a bit of luck and some range. As the flames died, he spotted an empty place near the pool, a vast stalagmite forming a suitable wall. It would put him a long distance from the slope, but at least it was covered.

Fine made for the spot, carefully watching the changelings. Every time Tialvis blew fire on the eggs they would look away, as if the brightness of the flames bothered them. Not surprising, considering how dark it was otherwise. They were constantly moving, either hurrying to get more water or rushing to fill the pool. Under different circumstances, he might have appreciated their work ethic, especially considering the mundane nature of the chore. Tialvis, in the meantime, had eyes only for her eggs. He could hear her cooing and whispering to them, her eyes filled with a warm glow.

He squeezed his way between the stalagmite and the wall. There he lingered until Tialvis breathed on the eggs once more, this time paying attention to the timing. It seemed fairly regular so far. What did he have, five minutes between breaths? That should be more than enough time.

As soon as she finished, Fine walked to the other side of the stalagmite. The edge of the pool was only a couple feet from his hooves, and he could easily jump back to safety. Now he just needed to get his hooves on an egg without being noticed. The changelings weren’t paying him any mind and Tialvis, though she faced him, didn’t so much as give him a passing glance. He took his time examining the eggs, which were of a variety of colors and patterns. The nearest one was a soft purple with darker spots.

He ducked back behind the stalagmite as Tialvis prepared another blast of fire. He didn’t have a proper distancing for the egg yet, but Fine was patient. As soon as the flames ceased he stepped back out and studied the egg. He had to get the distance just right…

He waited through another burst of flame, and then another. At last he thought he had it. He sat behind the stalagmite, closed his eyes and began working the magic. Knowing he had to wait for just the right moment, he held back on the completion of the spell. This had to be done right; too early and he’d be caught, too late and he wouldn’t have enough time. A trickle of sweat beaded down his cheek.

The last five minutes seemed to take forever. Fine tapped his knife, making it sway. Any second now…

Tialvis began her next burn, and Fine finished his spell. He felt the magical elements snap into place and immediately started lifting the egg. The effort of holding the enchantment was like carrying an unnecessarily heavy load; Fine was known for his trickery, not his magical stamina. The flames came to an end, but there was no outcry. He sighed with relief and continued maneuvering the egg. After several seconds, he felt something hot bump against his chest. He reached out and knew he had the egg, wrapped securely in his invisibility spell.

The work wasn’t over yet. His horn was already vibrating, and he still had to get the egg out of the cavern. He began walking at an even pace, having no desire to draw attention to himself by running. Besides, if he broke the egg he’d have to start over from scratch. Rumor had it dragon eggs were harder than rocks, but he wasn’t about to take that chance. Out from behind the stalagmite, past the ever-mobile changelings and their buckets, towards the gentle slope—

“Wait.”

Fine jerked to a stop. He sucked in a sharp breath and looked back to see Tialvis pouring over the eggs. “An egg is missing. One of my eggs is missing!”

With a curse, Fine turned to make for the exit but paused when he saw a half-dozen changeling stopped at the slope. He’d never get past so many without drawing attention to himself. Maybe if he could raise the egg high enough, but his horn was already burning.

“You!”

He jumped and spun about; Tialvis was looking right at him. “You took my egg!”

Fine tried smiling, but was sure it came out as a grimace. “What, me? Why would you ever think that?”

“What spell are you casting?” Tialvis stepped over the pools, her eyes filled with dark intent. “Why is your horn red?”

She knew a lot more about pony magic than he’d expected. A quick glance around the cavern revealed a disturbingly large number of blue eyes on him. His mind worked quickly. “I’m just experimenting, you see. Trying to make my magical aura different colors. Makes for better disguises.”

Tialvis moved a little closer, stamping the cavern floor with such force as to shake dust and water from the ceiling. “Cancel the spell. Now.”

He chuckled weakly, noting out of the corner of his eye that there were a lot more changelings at the exit. Already he was forming a plan, but it depended on him using a particular spell. He was already pressing his magical limitations…

Baring her fangs, Tialvis began to rise up; he was out of time. Fine stepped forward and canceled his spell, the egg appearing before him in his red aura. “Okay, you win, I have the egg! Happy?”

The changelings began murmuring amongst themselves and casting ominous glances his way. Their wings started to buzz in a way that reminded him unpleasantly of angry bees. He moved a little closer, trying to judge just how much distance he could cover. If only his plan didn’t rely on a spell he’d never once managed to cast!

A long, deep growl rose from Tialvis’s throat. “You dare to steal my egg?”

“Well, technically it’s not your egg.”

Tialvis’s eyebrows rose. “You—”

The burn in Fine’s horn was going down. A little more… He quickly considered her behavior regarding the care of the eggs. “Furthermore, I’m only doing what I was told to do by Reddux.”

At the mention of Reddux, Tialvis hesitated. “Reddux? What are you saying?”

Fine shuffled a step or two sideways, moving beneath the slope. “He knew you wouldn’t want any of the eggs broken, so he ordered me to take one.” Another step.

She peered at him, smoke billowing from her nostrils. The changelings were starting to form a semi-circle around him. “I don’t believe you. Reddux hasn’t had time to return from the Burning Lands, he could not have spoken to you.”

Fine smiled as best he could. “You’re assuming he told you the truth about his whereabouts. He could—”

“Enough.” Tialvis loomed forward to study him with piercing eyes. “Release your disguise.”

His smile grew strained. “Umm… I dunno, I’ve kinda got a bet going.”

“Whatever is the matter, changeling?”

The buzzing of wings grew louder. Fine glanced at the bottom of the slope and saw that the changelings at the exit had descended. Perfect, now if he could just…

“Give me the egg or die.”

A few more sidesteps. “Something tells me I’ll die regardless.”

Tialvis grinned and spread her palms, indicating the changelings now lined before her. “I could let them have you.”

Fine’s stomach churned at the thought of being stuck in one of those pods. “I really fail to see the difference.”

“Then death it is.” Tialvis reared back and sucked in a sharp breath.

Fine’s heart leaped into his throat and he immediately began casting the spell. He turned away and grabbed the egg as black clouds started to form around him. Fire erupted, his horn sparked painfully, the smoke blocked his vision. He closed his eyes and prepared for the heat.

There was a strange sensation, like the air around him had shifted in some way that defied description. The sound of the flames changed origins, the buzzing gained a new quality, his hooves adjusted to a new floor. When Fine opened his eyes, the smoke was clearing and he found himself facing solid rock. He looked around and realized he was standing on the slope.

His jaw dropped. “H-hey… I finally did it.”

The roar shook the cavern and jolted him back into action. The egg in his grasp, he turned for the exit and barely took three steps before a swarm of changelings landed before him. He backpedaled, eyes wide as he looked for an escape route. Turning around, he saw more changelings charging up the slope and several launching from the cavern floor. The vast walls amplified the buzzing of their wings and the noise pierced his ears, but that was nothing compared the look of rage on the face of Tialvis as he glared up at him.

“Fine! In here!”

With seconds to spare, he turned to the vent tunnel and charged. He couldn’t see Fleur, which was probably a good thing. He thrust the egg through first and leaped inside, his back knees banging painfully against the wall. “Climb! If you want to live, climb!”

“Stop them! Don’t let them escape with my hatchling!”

Fine’s heart had become a sledgehammer for his ribs. He pushed the egg in front of him and struggled against the slope. The egg took up enough space that he could only barely see around it. “Keep climbing, Fleur! We’re going to get out!”

“I am, for Celestia’s sake!”

The buzzing had been muffled from inside the vent, but that only made it easier for Fine to hear the scraping of his followers. They’d have to come after him one or two at a time, but that didn’t mean much to him at the moment. How were they going to escape once they got out?

He heard the hiss and turned onto his back. A lone changeling glared up at him, its intense eyes glowing in the sheer darkness. He kicked at it, landing a few solid blows to its face before its forehooves managed to catch him.

“Fine!”

“Take the egg and keep going, for buck’s sake!” His horn flashed and an aural knife flew through the air; it landed right between the changeling’s eyes. The creature instantly fell limp, but as soon as it did it was dragged backward and two more took its place. Fine scrambled up the vent, his hooves slipping on the water-slicked stone.

“Fine, it’s too steep! I can’t keep going!”

He cursed and turned to face his attackers. Another aural knife appeared before him. It shined bright in the rosewood glow of his aura, a stark contrast to the bright blue eyes below. The changelings hissed and bared their fangs while Fine braced himself. Even as he prepared for the fight, though, he understood that he’d failed. That thought didn’t bother him so much as the knowledge that he’d dragged Fleur down with him. The very idea left a deep pit in his stomach.

Even so, if he was going to die, he’d take as many of them out as he could first! Maybe he could plug the hole with their bodies and buy time to think. He almost broke out laughing at the sheer absurdity of the idea; was he really that desperate? He let the blade fly as he realized: yes, yes he was.

Fleur pressed her back against the moist wall of the tunnel, her breath coming in short gasps. A halo of light shined almost a hundred feet over her head, and she had no way to get there. She had tried scrambling up the sheer walls again and again, but her hooves slipped and she couldn’t even find a purchase. The egg sat beside her, blocking her view of Fine and his desperate fight. If only she could help in some way!

“Fleur!” Fine’s voice called from around the egg. “You’ve got to climb!”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I can’t! I tried and I can’t!”

“You have to, it’s your only chance!”

She covered her face and sobbed. The air was filled with his curses and the clicking, hissing noises of the changelings that had cornered them. This wasn’t how she was supposed to die. Her life had been so pointless, there had to be more to it than this! She covered her ears and shivered in the cold moisture that surrounded her.

“I can’t hold them forever, Fleur. You have to get out!”

But she couldn’t. She felt so useless! They were going to die, or worse, be put in one of those ugly pods! Reddux was going to win, Equestria would burn, and every single town and city would end up just like Sueño. Why couldn’t she have been just a little stronger?

“Come on, you black bastards! Is that the best you can do?”

Fleur sat up with a grimace and sucked down her sobs. Fine was fighting for her, and she’d be damned if she let his sacrifice be for nothing. She’d find a way to help, even if it only meant waiting for them to come clawing over his body. The last thing she wanted to do was die like a coward! She started to stand—

Her hoof slid and she fell on her barrel. For a moment – a tender second of weakness – she thought she would start crying again, but something made her pause. She examined the hoof that had slipped; it was wet. She was wet. Her gaze fell upon the walls surrounding them… and met water. It was seeping out of the very rocks in a constant trickle.

She examined the halo of light far above her. The vent had to be running right up through the lake itself, so that meant there was water all around it, right? And if those walls were so thin that the water could seep right through…

“Fine!” She slipped towards the egg and tried to peer past it. She could barely make out Fine as he wrestled with something black. “The walls! Break the walls!”

“What?” There was a resounding crack and the changeling he was fighting stopped moving. “What are you talking about?”

“Break the walls, let the lake in! It’s our only chance!”

“I’m a little busy at the moment!”

She grimaced and turned away. Setting her forehooves as steady as she could on the slick floor, she began to buck at the wall. Three hits, five hits, seven, again and again. “Come on, come on!”

Her legs ached, her heart raced, her mind was frantic. She could hear Fine fighting. How long would he last? If this didn’t work—

Her ears perked to a loud pop, and then a crunch. Panting, she looked back to see a long, thin line in the wall. Water seeped through it, and as she watched the crack began to grow and produce even more of them. More and more water poured into the tunnel, which vibrated so wildly Fleur had to drop to her knees.

Fine shouted. “Fleur, what did you do?!”

“The tunnel’s collapsing,” she shouted back, covering her head and hoping she’d not made a terrible mistake.

“The egg,” Fine cried, “Don’t lose the egg!”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Despite her disbelief, Fleur hurried to wrap the egg in her magical aura. Right at that moment there was a roaring sound, and she looked up in time to see the water crashing down. She gulped in air just before the cold waters covered her in a tidal wave of currents.

Water ripped at her body, making her twist and flip around. She could see rocks and slabs flying about and the world was a confusing mess. What was up? What was down? Despite her confusion, she somehow managed to hold onto the egg, which continued to appear and disappear in the chaos. Surprised and horrified changelings darted past her, their blue eyes wide and bubbles flying from their black lips. Once she saw Fine, but it was only a passing glimpse. Her lungs burned, her heart hammered in her chest, the water roared in her ears!

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. She saw a bright light above her and swam as fast as her legs could muster, bursting through the lake's surface with a long gasp. The egg bobbed up alongside her, along with numerous black bodies. There had to have been a dozen changelings.

But things didn’t calm down. Fleur could see numerous whirlpools all around her in the vast lake and realized that other vents had to be collapsing as well. Was the entire cave system being flooded at once?

Something was missing – or rather, somepony. “Fine!” She swam in a circle, eyes darting frantically at the bodies. Many of them were being sucked down into the watery vortexes. “Fine, where are you?”

The egg began to drift away, and she snatched it back before it could end up in one of the whirlpools. Fleur had to paddle hard to stay between them and not get dragged down. “Fine, talk to me! You’ve got to be here somewhere.”

Her eyes passed over the scene again, her heart sinking as she scanned body after body after—there! Fine floated face-down in the water between two nearby whirlpools. Fleur kicked her legs as hard as she could, struggling against the wild currents that threatened to drag her down. “I’m coming, Fine, just hold on!”

It seemed to take an eternity to reach him, but reach him she did. With no small effort, she managed to turn him over. He was bleeding profusely from his head, and the sight almost sucked the air out of her. Panting, she caught him by the shoulders and swam backwards for the nearest shore. It was a long way and the whirlpools didn’t show any sign of abating.

Fleur’s muscles burned. Staying above the water’s surface was a constant struggle with Fine’s heft, and to make things worse she was still holding the egg in her magical grasp. Even so, she somehow managed to reach the wall of the crater that formed the lake. 'Wall,' because the water level had fallen precipitously. She couldn’t have climbed out on her own, much less with her burden. Luckily there was a ledge nearby, and she managed to reach it before the water level dropped too low.

She set the egg down first, then climbed up herself. Dragging Fine’s body onto the ledge required both her muscles and her magic. As soon as he was safe, she collapsed on top of him with a gasp. She lay there for some time, panting and wishing her muscles would forgive her. Yet no matter how much pain she felt, she could only smile, for she was alive. The thought made her laugh giddily.

Then she recalled the blood and came to her senses. She hurriedly checked to see if Fine was breathing and was relieved to see his chest rising in a slow rhythm. Next she examined his head, trying to find where the blood was coming from. She parted his mane and felt at his scalp, but could find nothing save a large bump. Worry filled her; if she couldn’t stop the bleeding—

Fleur paused. She ceased her frantic searching and stood to take in Fine’s head in its entirety. It was then she saw that the ‘blood’ seeping from Fine wasn’t even red, but black. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, then realized that her hooves were black, too. She examined Fine once more and realized that the excess red she’d been seeing was actually his mane.

Dye. Fine’s mane had been dyed, and now the black was washing out. She stared, dumbfounded to see bright, light red hair. She glanced back to find Fine’s tail in the same state.

She stood there, motionless, speechless. Then, as if a damn were breaking, she started to laugh. She threw her head back and let loose, her jaw spreading so wide it hurt and tears running down her cheeks. Why she laughed, she hadn’t a clue, but as it rose high into the blue sky she began to feel a weight lifting off her shoulders.

At last reduced to mere chuckles, Fleur lay down next to Fine, pressing her body close to his. Her legs hurt, her body was shivering from the moisture, her lungs hadn’t stopped aching. Yet she felt… relaxed. She closed her eyes and let the weariness overtake her.

The lake continued to drain.

Author's Note

Well, that was fun to write. Here's hoping it's equally fun to read.

In The Skies

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter XVI
In The Skies

Fancy groaned as he felt something tugging on his ear. He flicked it a few times, rubbed his eyes and yawned. Peering through the darkness, he looked up to find Private Sundae kneeling beside his pile of blankets. “Private,” he grumbled. “How long was I out?”

“I’m not sure,” Frosty replied, chewing her lip. “Longer than you wanted. Colonel Mander said you should be allowed to sleep a few more hours.”

He stretched, the muscles in his back popping loudly, then sat up. “He knows we don’t have that much time. You should have woken me earlier.”

“Captain Feathers said you’d say that.” Frosty offered a weak smile. “They pulled rank on ya, Fancy. I don’t blame them; you’ve been working too hard for too long.”

He sighed and shifted his shoulders around. The right one gave a loud pop, but the left one refused to let go of its knots. He rubbed it with a hoof and grimaced. “How’s the setup going?”

“Here, let me.” Frosty moved behind him and began massaging his shoulder. “The Redwings are finished with the cloud, and we’ve been training for several hours. There have been a few close calls, but no accidents. The colonel has us working in rotating groups so that some soldiers are always at rest. The unicorns have all but mastered that spell you taught them.”

“Good.” He let out a small moan as his shoulder finally popped. “You’re surprisingly good at that.”

She chuckled. “That’s what my coltfriend used to say.”

He smiled and stepped away, taking a moment to stretch again. “I won’t tell him if you won’t.”

“Such a player.” Frosty rolled her eyes with a smile. “Anyway, the colonel thought it was finally time to wake you.” She lit her horn and pointed to a plate of bread on a table nearby. “Breakfast?”

Fancy considered skipping the meal, but his rumbling stomach make a pretty solid argument. He stood and took the bread in his magic. “Walk and talk; I want to take a look around and… is there butter on this?”

“They found it in a pantry upstairs.” Frosty’s expression grew dark. “Along with a few other things. That bastard commander was living like a prince up there. Speaking of which, there’s something you need to see.”

A bite of the bread made Fancy’s eyes roll back. “Wow. I spent most of my life in the lap of luxury, and only now do I understand just how good butter is.”

“That’s what happens when you go without for a while.” Frosty led him out of the storage room, which Fancy had chosen due to its lack of windows. They stepped into the large waiting room in the center of the tower, the air still cool and pleasant from the lingering enchantments. The area was filled with sleeping or resting soldiers; they produced a rather nasty smell of sweat and grit, but it was a small price to pay for escaping the burning sun. Those soldiers that were awake immediately sat up and snapped a salute at his passing, which he lightly returned.

Frosty turned for the nearby stairs. “This way.”

Fancy raised an eyebrow and glanced at the exit, but followed. “What’s this all about?”

“You’ll see.”

They climbed up the circling stairwell, passing several familiar doors. Fancy wondered if they were going to the commander’s office to see Whinnie, but instead Frosty entered a door a floor below the appropriate level. They walked through a short hall and stopped at a simple wooden door, indistinguishable from those around it.

Frosty pressed a hoof to the door, but paused and turned to Fancy. “When searching the keep, they found that this door was locked and magically sealed. It took five unicorns working together to undo the magic. Whinnie claims to know nothing about this, but nopony trusts her in that regard.”

Fancy looked to the door, then back at Frosty. Though she was calm, there was a distinct tension in her stance and her breathing was slow. “So… what’s in there?”

Without a word, she pushed the door open and stood aside. Fancy stared at her, but finally approached the room. The windowless area was dark and hot; too hot. It felt like a sauna. Fancy knew enough about thermodynamics to know that this had to be a magically-enhanced heat. He stepped deeper inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

After a few seconds, he began to understand his surroundings. The room appeared empty and abandoned; no furniture, no other doorways, not even brackets for torches. Only one thing existed in this dark place, a trio of round objects near the center of the room. Fancy cocked his head and approached them, lighting his horn. What he saw made his jaw drop.

Eggs. Three of them, colorful and innocuous and each bigger than a foal. Fancy sucked down a shuddering breath and reached out to touch the nearest one, which was bright gold. The shell was hot, almost enough to burn. Slowly, he turned to find Frosty standing at the edge of the light’s range. “W-what in the name of Celestia are dragon eggs doing here?”

Frosty, expression grim, shook her head. “Nopony knows, and Whinnie’s not saying anything. Captain Feathers thinks they were planted here to frame Equestria for stealing them.”

“That… makes sense.” Fancy turned back to observe the eggs. The dryness of his throat had nothing to do with the heat. “Actually, that would explain a lot.”

“Colonel Mander disagrees,” Frosty added, sitting next to him. “He thinks the commander may have actually been smuggling them for alchemists. It would explain why some ponies have been reported disappearing in the Badlands.”

A shiver ran down Fancy’s neck. “That just makes it worse. Goddess, Private, if this is why the dragons are attacking…”

“Then their anger is legitimate and justified,” she concluded when words failed him.

He gave her a wide-eyed look. “Has this information been sent to Estéril Pezuñas?”

“We can’t,” Frosty replied. “The colonel refuses to spare a single soldier until the black dragon is defeated.”

Fancy scowled and turned from the eggs. “This is unforgiveable. How can anypony be so cruel? I don’t blame the dragons for being furious. We’ll have to find a way to communicate this discovery to them; maybe it can lead to peace if we show that we are willing to search Equestria for other missing eggs.”

Frosty’s eyebrows rose as she followed him out of the room. “You think there are more?”

“There are plenty of places where an egg thief can slip through to Equestria.” He let out a low growl. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there were some in Estéril Pezuñas itself. By Celestia’s multi-hued mane, what if they managed to smuggle some eggs into Canterlot?”

“I hope you’re not thinking about appealing to that black dragon.” Frosty shivered as they passed into the cool hallway once more. “There’s not a soul in Guardia del Este that wants to do that. Captain Feathers would be furious.”

“No.” Fancy closed the door, gently. “No, it’s one of Reddux’s subordinates. I don’t think Reddux or his two pals can be convinced, and I wouldn’t want peace with those three bastards even if it was offered. I just hope we can keep these eggs safe when the time comes; I’d never forgive myself if we let these children never see the light of day.”

As they trotted for the exit, Frosty asked, “Do you really think this plan of yours will work?”

“I believe it’s our only chance.” He spoke with a firmness he wasn’t accustomed to hearing from his own mouth. “Even if it works, we won’t win easily.”

“That doesn’t matter. The soldiers are ready to die. For revenge, for the honor of their comrades…” Frosty chuckled. “Heck, even for the Hero of Sueño.”

Fancy snorted and began to descend the stairwell. “As soon as this is over, I’m going to do everything I can to get rid of that stupid title.”

“Fancy.”

He blinked and came to a stop. Upon turning around, he found Frosty still standing at the top of the stairs. What really gave him pause, however, was her warm smile. “Uh… yes?”

Frosty chewed her lip and brushed her blonde fringe aside. “I know you don’t like it, but if we win today, you really will be a hero. You know that, right?”

He blinked again, then felt his stomach twist. “I… didn’t even think of that.”

She pawed the floor and wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Sometimes I feel like you’re not soldier material. You’re too nice. You’re a hard worker and all that, and you’ve been really impressive these last few… well, I guess they’ve been days. Even so, I think you belong in a city rather than the front lines.”

At that he chuckled. “You’re probably right.”

“That’s why I have to know. I asked you once, and you refused to answer. I don’t blame you, and you can refuse again, but…” She gazed down at him, eyes imploring. “Why are you here?”

He considered the question, and her. Closing his eyes, he recalled so many things that led to this moment: feelings of worthlessness at the family manor back in Canterlot, fights with his father, signing his name to a piece of paper in a recruiting office, watching the sun rise over the ocean, the flames and screams and scent of burnt flesh. Then, sitting in his dim room, hunched over a desk and scratching a heartfelt apology to his parents and accepting, for the first time in his life, the possibility that he might not see them again.

And then, his vision was filled with the image of a beautiful face before a multi-hued mane.

“I have a lot of reasons,” he finally whispered, smiling up at Frosty. “My father, who refused to let me come; my mother, who I promised to see again; my friends, who died on that island so I could be here; my princess, who I will defend at any cost. Even those eggs, which deserve a chance at life. I suppose, when it all comes down to it, I’m here because I have to be.”

Frosty stared at him for some time, then regained her warm smile. “You really are a good guy, aren’t you?”

He blushed and rubbed the back of his head. “Well, I try to be.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it now.” Frosty trotted past him with her head held high. “You’re destined to be a hero. No matter what happens here, they’re going to be singing your name for centuries.”

He let out a groan and followed. “Fine, go ahead and torture me. I get enough of that from when—”

A loud bang echoed up the stairwell, making them both pause. A lightly-armored mare came galloping up the steps. Upon spotting them, she stumbled to a halt. “F-First Lieutenant! The Black Demon, it’s coming!”

Fancy bolted as soon as the word ‘black’ hit his ears. “Everypony to stations, now! Every hoof, every wing, every horn!” The walls flew by in a blur, his heartbeat louder than his pounding hooves. When he burst into the room at the bottom of the stairs he found the soldiers hurrying to strap on their armor. Fancy made straight for the exit, not concerned by his own lack of protection.

“Fancy!” Private Sundae was right on his tail. “Are you sure you don’t want to wear any armor for this?”

“It’s not gonna matter,” he shouted back. The doors were already opened, a quartet of guards standing with spears at the ready. Fancy didn’t have to say a word; one of the guards spotted him coming and immediately tossed his spear. Fancy caught it and emerged into the glaring sunlight. “Positions, everypony!”

He looked up and saw the Redwings already descending from the cloud, which was now stretched thin miles above the keep. He came to a stop and examined the scene; to his grim satisfaction, there wasn’t a panicked face in the courtyard. The unicorns and some earth ponies were already set in a group of two circles, and those earth ponies not among them were making for the doors of the keep and walls. He saw fear, but he also saw determination.

They were ready for this fight.

Captain Feathers appeared in the sky above them. “Fifth squadron, to me! We’ll keep the beast distracted and buy some time!” Five more pegasi joined her as she flew south, a round of cheers and stomps rising in the air as she disappeared over the wall.

“Fancy.” Colonel Mander trotted up to him, expression stern. He raised his hoof, which Fancy bumped. “I don’t know if this idea of yours is crazy or brilliant, so I’m settling for both.”

Despite the butterflies in his stomach, Fancy managed a smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

The colonel’s lips twitched upwards. “Don’t get killed, First Lieutenant. Mares prefer heroes over martyrs. Now get into position!”

“Make sure you follow your own advice,” Fancy shouted as he made for the nearest group of ponies. A deafening roar made everypony flinch as he got to them. The pegasi were already lifting the other group into the air. When Fancy and Frosty joined the circle the entire group let out a combined shout. All eyes were on Fancy, and he had to fight the urge to stare at his hooves.

Frosty bumped his shoulder. “Maybe you should say something?”

He raised an eyebrow her way, then looked around at all the expectant faces. Another roar made everypony jump. He wondered what Long Lance would have said in this situation. The answer came to mind almost immediately, and it even made him smile. “Anypony here know how to skin a lizard? I think my mom could use a new dragon skin purse.” A round of chuckles ran through the group, prompting him to add, “Moms, marefriends, coltfriends, heck, I bet they’d all like one, don’t you?”

The soldiers laughed a bit more freely. One of two cheered.

Fancy threw back his head. “Alright, dragon purses for everypony!”

Ponies stomped and cheered just as the Redwings appeared overhead. The pegasi began lifting the soldiers off the ground by the shoulders. A few required two pegasi to lift them due to their heft. Fancy reared back and let a pair of Redwings grab him, and within seconds he was flying over the keep. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to ignore how his stomach churned from the sudden lift.

Another bellow from the dragon drew his eyes south. The black beast, hovering far from the keep, waved his massive arms in a struggle to swat Captain Feathers and her small squadron out of the sky. Fancy gritted his teeth as a blast of flame consumed two of the pegasi; they were too far away for him to tell who they were. He kept a close watch on the scene, chewing his lip in anticipation of another pegasus going down. A second later, his vision was obscured by the white veil of the cloud.

It didn’t take long to rise above the white plain, and as soon as he did a unicorn galloped to him, her horn shining brightly. She focused on him for a brief time before nodding, and the pegasi promptly dropped him. Fancy felt his heart hit his throat, but his hooves touched the soft clouds as if they were ground. The unicorn was already running to the next pony.

Fancy sat and shivered in the cool air. Even with the sun beating down, at this height there wasn’t much heat. He remembered Oak’s lecture on high altitude air quality and breathed slowly so his heart could calm down. When next he looked up, the pegasi were all diving once more, leaving around forty earth ponies and unicorns atop the cloud.

Frosty trotted up to him, her spear shaking in her telekinetic grasp. “N-now comes the hard part, right?”

“Hard?” He chuckled weakly. “There’s nothing hard about falling.”

“Easy for you to say.” She winced as the dragon let out another roar. “Y-you know, my coltfriend always said he’d give me Elysium if he could. He’s gonna be p-pretty upset that somepony else got me there first.”

“Well then, he’ll just have to get you even higher.” Fancy looked out at the soldiers. “Don’t worry, everypony! Trust in the Redwings. They’ll take care of us.” He turned to Frosty. “Better get into position, Private.”

“Yes, sir.” She hesitated, her eyes on the clouds. “Fancy, in case something does happen…”

He forced his face into what he hoped was a confident expression. “It won’t.”

“If it does…” She gave him a weak smile. “I just wanted you to know that I’m proud to have been here with you.” She trotted away, leaving him to stare after her. He felt his chest swelling and wondered about the sensation.

The dragon’s roar came from much closer this time, jarring him from his reverie. “Alright, everypony!” He turned to face the cloud, his spear aimed down. “This is what we’ve been waiting for. Let’s teach this dragon that you don’t need wings to rule the skies!”

There was another resounding cheer, and then everypony mimicked his pose. They were spread out in a wide area, no pony more than five feet from another. The unicorns, Fancy included, prepped their spells and focused on the earth pony in front of them, just as planned.

Silence reigned. Fancy could hear his own heart hammering against his chest, and despite the cold he felt sweat beading on his brow. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw the others in a similar condition, their faces set in angry determination. His horn sparked and he longed to release the spell. Time passed, punctuated by the occasional bellow of the beast below.

He jumped as the dragon’s voice rose up through the cloud. “Is this all you have for me? At least make it a challenge!”

Everypony tensed. “Hold steady, all of you.” Fancy didn’t know why he spoke so quietly.

“Yes! Flee! Hide in the clouds! They will not save you.”

“This is it!” Fancy grit his teeth and lowered himself, legs spread in preparation. He let out short gasps, his jaw hanging open and his legs taught. The spear shook in his magic, the tip making the cloud at his hooves distort. He swallowed and prayed to his beloved Celestia that the pegasi would hit their positions. Goddess, let them hit their positions and timing!

The first pegasus burst through the cloud in a blur, followed by another, then more. A wave of colors shattered the cloud, and spells began to fly. Fancy barely heard his shout – “Now!” – amid the cries. Unicorns and earth ponies alike began to drop as the cloudwalking spells were canceled en mass, and Fancy felt his own hooves fall from under him.

The white faded, and in its place was black. Lots of black, with thick scales and sharp teeth. For a terrifying moment, Fancy was back at Sueño, watching as this great fanged monster crushed a pair of ponies against a cliff and laughed. It jolted Fancy’s heart more than the sensation of falling, more than the sight of the ground thousands of feet below him. Those hideous blue eyes bore into his soul and made him feel like a little colt desperate for his mother’s comforting embrace.

Then, just as fast as it had come, the sensation left. Fancy wasn’t at Sueño, he was in the skies above Guardia del Este… and this time it was the dragon that was under threat. It had been flying up to catch the pegasi – as expected – but upon seeing the wall of ponies dropping from the clouds it’s eyes shot open. More importantly, it’s wings shot open.

Fancy let out a scream, his horn sparking as diamond after diamond flew from it and the horn of every other unicorn in the sky. The beast saw this and grinned, the barrage cracking harmlessly against his scales. They weren’t so useless against the dragon’s wings; the rain of crystals ripped through the thin membrane, leaving gaping holes in their wake.

The dragon flapped wildly, fighting to slow its ascent, but the ponies fell upon it like a chromatic rain of crystals, spears and bodies. It swiped a claw through the air, sending shrieking ponies flying wildly. A gale of air flew into its expanding chest, but it was too late; most of the ponies were on or past the dragon, and its torrent of fire only caught a couple unfortunate souls.

Fancy’s legs were tucked beneath his barrel, just as Oak had instructed, and he darted through the sky. He glanced aside and cringed as Frosty landed hard on the dragon’s back, her spear shattering uselessly against its scales. Before he could think on her, the torn right wing of the dragon flew at his face! He shouted and aimed his spear forward as the leathery material rose up to meet him in a mighty flap.

He’d expected to hear a rip; what he got sounded much softer. The spear punctured the wing, and when Fancy struck his body tore right through. The impact sent him spinning wildly, the world a chaotic mess of sky and ground. He saw the keep for a fraction of a second, then the dragon, then heard the roar, then he lost his lunch. Fancy closed his eyes and pictured Celestia’s face. He prayed to that perfect visage that his trust in the Redwings hadn’t been misplaced.

The dragon roared again, but with the spinning Fancy was at a loss as to its direction. He focused on keeping his jaw clenched and his prayers fast. He prayed for his parents, he prayed for his comrades, he prayed for the souls of Long Lance and Blistering Sparks, he prayed to simply survive.

Still he fell.

And fell.

And fell some more.

Fancy was just about to start whispering the Prayer for the Goddess’s Mercy when something slammed into him. He gasped and opened his eyes to find his muzzle pressed against an orange chest. He looked up and let the air burst from his lungs. “Oak!”

“Hold on,” she cried, “this is gonna hurt!”

Fancy looked over his shoulder just in time to see the top of the fort’s walls rushing to meet them. He tucked his legs in and braced himself as they hit the stones at an angle, the two ponies tumbling and skipping across the top of the wall. Fancy’s world was burning pain, but at last he came to a stop on his back. He stared up at the sky, breath coming in short gasps. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was, in fact, alive.

A roar the sound of thunder snapped him out of his reverie. He turned his head in time to see the dragon tumbling from the sky, its wings shredded and useless. The beast shrieked its fury as it dropped like a stone directly for the fort. The sky was filled with ponies being picked up by pegasi, but there didn’t seem to be near enough to catch them all; Fancy’s ears were filled with screams.

Fancy jumped to his hooves and nearly fell once more at the pain in his side. He spotted Oak struggling to her hooves beneath one of the crenellations and stumbled towards her. “Come on, Captain, you’re not allowed to die, remember?”

“I don’t think you get much say in that,” she mumbled. One of her back legs hung uselessly and she leaned heavily on Fancy. The two limped as quickly as they could, but the shadow of the dragon loomed over them. Fancy looked up to see the beast plummeting directly towards them!

“Crap, crap, crap, crap crap crap crapcrapcrapcrap!”

The air exploded as the dragon released one last, mighty roar before smashing chest-first into the wall just behind them, sending massive chunks of brick and mortar skyrocketing. Fancy and Oak were sent flying once again, Fancy landing on his side with a grunt. Dust filled into the air and obscured everything like a dense fog.

The world was silent and everything was grey. Fancy sat up, cringing at the sting in his side, and looked around. With the pale dust obscuring his vision and dimming the sun, he felt almost as if he’d fallen into some kind of surreal universe of ghosts and dust. Not a sound penetrated the drifting particles.

Slowly, the dust settled and the sun shined once more. Fancy coughed and shook the ash-like substance from his mane; when he next opened his eyes, he was gazing upon the scaled hind leg of the dragon, as wide as a tree and stretched out at an uncomfortable-looking angle. He sucked in a sharp breath and stepped back, but the leg didn’t move.

The beating of wings caught his attention just as Captain Feathers landing beside him, stumbling on her broken hind leg. “Is it dead?”

Fancy swallowed and didn’t answer. His gaze went to the keep; the west side of the building had collapsed and sported black stains. He moved closer to the side of the wall and looked down to see the dragon. It lay with its lower body atop the shattered wall, but its chest was down in the courtyard in a large depression, surrounded by broken stone and masonry. Its head rested on its chin, facing the keep. Its eyes were closed.

Bodies sporadically littered the courtyard. Even so, many more of the cloud-based defenders began to land safely with their pegasi carriers. None of them dared to approach the dragon. Earth ponies peered out of the doors and windows of the keep, but they too refused to approach. Finally, Colonel Mander appeared from the keep, waving for the others to stay hidden. When Fancy opened his mouth to speak, the colonel silenced him with a firm motion.

Slowly, quietly, the colonel approached the head of the beast. He held his spear to his shoulder, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. All eyes were fixed on him as he took one step, another, and another, each motion cautious and measured. Not a single pony dared to speak. Fancy realized he was holding his breath.

Colonel Mander finally reached the dragon. He stood right next to the beast’s face and leaned in. His ears perked, he cocked his head, he leveled his spear. The world waited.

The dragon’s eye opened, its slim pupil focused directly on the colonel.

Colonel Mander let out a vicious roar and thrust his spear directly into the eye. Blood spurted from the wound and the dragon let out a bellow. Before Fancy could blink, its head whipped about, smashing into the colonel and sending him flying across the courtyard. Screams of fury erupted from the walls and the keep; the hidden soldiers poured out and assaulted the dragon like ants, leaping atop it with wild abandon.

The spear still lodged in its eye, the dragon lifted itself up and started swiping at the ponies with its claws, easily knocking them away. After only two swings, however, it doubled over and clutched at its chest. Its breathing came out ragged as it hissed, “Bugs! I will burn you, I will burn all of you!” It began to suck in air, but after only a second it began coughing and sputtering, gripping its chest in both claws.

Fancy backed away, his mind frantic for a solution. He jumped as the dragon’s tail began to slide towards him over the wall. He saw Oak ascend clumsily, but she couldn’t get to him in time. Fancy jumped as high as his sore legs would allow, but there was no chance he’d make it over; the tail smacked into him and sent him careering through the air. Oak caught him by the shoulders just before he tumbled over the edge of the wall. He was far too heavy for her, though, and she was forced to drop him painfully on the wall.

“Aurora!” The dragon’s shrieks shook the stonework. “Aurora! Aurora! You will all die in her name, you filthy parasites!”

Fancy looked up to find the dragon covered in ponies that stabbed and prodded and slashed at his scales. He swept them off easily enough, but the soldiers kept coming and he was incapable of dealing with all of them. Fancy’s stomach churned as the dragon slapped an open claw against its thigh, crushing a trio of ponies that had been climbing its scales. The dragon’s head shook violently, sending soldiers screaming into the air; only a couple were caught by pegasi. The Redwings buzzed around the dragon like a small swarm of angry bees, deftly dodging its claws and jaws.

Oak hovered at Fancy’s side, her expression grim. “We might outnumber him, but it won’t amount for anything if we can’t pierce his hide!”

Fancy’s mind worked frantically. He winced as the dragon’s tail whipped around to send dozens of ponies flying. Its claws worked frantically to brush off those that continued to crawl along its body, and he felt his stomach drop as a couple pegasi shrieked, their bodies and limbs caught by the dragon’s glistening fangs. Beating its ruined wings, the dragon managed to produce enough wind to sweep back some of the lighter ponies.

With every death, every scream, every splattering of blood, Fancy felt his own boil. He bared his teeth and tensed his muscles, silently cursing his monster that caused so much death. He remembered Long Lance and Blistering Sparks, recalled the bodies floating in the waves, heard the beast’s laughter. The combination left him trembling and his breath coming in gasps.

The dragon tried to rear back and suck in another breath. Again, it failed, only managing to spit out a thin, useless stream of flame before hunching down and clutching its chest once more. “Vermin.” It spat blood. “You won’t kill me that easily. Aurora will see you all in Tartarus!”

That was when Fancy saw it once more: Colonel Mander’s spear, still firmly lodged within the beast’s eye. He turned to Oak. “I’m going to need a boost.”

“A wha—hey! Where are you going?!”

Fancy galloped as fast as his aching legs could carry him along the wall. His horn flashed and a crystal darted from it, zipping harmlessly past the dragon’s face. He shot several more as the beast’s attention turned to him. “Come for me, Black Demon,” he screamed. “You couldn’t kill me at Sueño, you won’t kill me here!”

The dragon took a moment to brush ponies from its shoulder, then peered at him with its good eye. It widened in recognition. “A survivor?” It’s fangs glistened as it emitted a vicious hiss. “I know you, pony! You won’t escape my fangs again!”

The dragon shook its entire body with enough force to knock away the few ponies remaining, then lurched for Fancy. It limped, but its lone blue eye was set upon him with vicious intent. A low rumble filled the air as its claws pulled at the wall and smoke billowed from its open jaws. Fancy didn’t hesitate; his hooves pounded against the stones almost as loudly as his heart pounded in his ears. He kept his eyes locked with that of the dragon, steam snorting from his nostrils with every breath.

Time seemed to slow down as understanding dawned upon him: he might be about to die.

One step.

He saw his father and mother smiling down at him.

Two steps.

Sparks and Lance were at a table, Sparks rubbing Fancy’s ribs as they all laughed.

The dragon’s lips turned up in an ominous smile.

Three steps.

Oak Feathers sat by the road, smiling as she spoke of her daughter.

Four steps.

Colonel Mander pressed a threatening hoof under his chin.

The dragon’s neck coiled to strike.

Five steps.

He held Fleur close, wishing he could do more for her.

Six steps.

Celestia smiled down at him, her very presence filling him with a warm glow.

The dragon’s maw opened wide.

Fancy had no regrets.

Putting all the strength he had in his hind legs, Fancy leapt. The dragon’s head snapped forward with a snarl, and Fancy knew he’d not escape those fangs… until Oak’s orange hooves caught him from behind and propelled him upwards. Fancy was released and soared high just as he heard the clamp of jaws and a resounding scream.

Time sped back up. Fancy’s path crested and he dropped back down, right at the dragon’s face. He turned his shoulder to the monster and let out a primal scream as the beast’s lone eye followed his path.

He smashed shoulder-first into the exposed spear shaft, driving it deep.

The dragon’s good eye bulged. Its gasp was like a thunderclap. It collapsed instantly, sliding forward from its own momentum, and Fancy tumbled haphazardly along its scaled back. He made no attempt to stop himself, and a few seconds later he was rolling on the ground once more, coming to a stop on his side.

Fancy didn’t move. Bells rang in his ears, his entire body ached, his heart practically vibrated in his chest. He stared uncomprehending at the back of the dragon, now lying limp amongst the stone debris and rising dust. Everything seemed perfectly still.

A pony was standing over him. Then another, and another. One bent down to feel at his chest, her mouth moving but no sound reaching his ears. Then everything came back, and he let out a sharp gasp.

“—to be okay, sir. You’re fine, you hear me?”

Fancy sat up with a jerk, and the ponies all pulled back. He sucked in a few sharp breaths, then slowly turned to look at the dragon. It still wouldn’t move.

“You did it, pretty colt.” Fancy looked over his bruised shoulder to find Colonel Mander limping towards him. Blood smeared the colonel’s side and neck and one of his forelegs was badly twisted, but he was still smiling. “You crazy, suicidal son of a hydra, you actually did it.”

“I… I did?”

“Yep.” With a grimace, the colonel managed to sit next to him. “You’re one hell of a soldier, Fancy.”

Fancy looked around at all the ponies now surrounding him. They were battered and bleeding, but they were still there, and every last one watched him with somber expressions and proud poses. Even so, there were far too many faces he didn’t see.

“Where’s Captain Feathers?”

The ponies all shared uncertain looks. Fancy climbed to his shaky hooves. “W-where is she?” They parted for him as he made for the wall. It didn’t take him long to spot the captain: she lay against the bottom of the wall, surrounded by four ponies who appeared to be working frantically. Fancy forced his tired legs into a trot.

She saw him coming and managed a grimacing smile. “W-well, if it ain’t the d-dragonslayer himself.”

Fancy hesitated, then looked over one of the medic’s shoulders. His stomach bottomed out when he saw the missing hind legs. “Oh… Oak, I…”

Oak managed a pained chuckle. “I’m the one that f-fed a dragon it’s last meal, and you’re the one t-turning green.” She sucked in a sharp breath and cringed.

His stomach cutting flips, Fancy looked to the chief medic, who caught his eye and nodded. He sighed and knelt beside Oak. “You’re gonna be fine, Captain.”

“Of course I’m gonna be fine.” Oak let out a hiss as one of the medics poured something over her bleeding stumps. “Don’t need l-legs to fly, do I?”

“Thanks, Oak.” Fancy gripped her hoof in his. “If you’d not shown up, I’d be dragon food.”

“Y-you said you needed a boost.” She let out a weak cry and clutched his hoof. “I gave it, th-that’s all.”

“Your girl is gonna be proud of you, y’know that, right?”

“Oh, stop trying to be sappy.” Another hiss slipped through her clenched teeth, tears sliding down her cheeks. She took a moment to recover her breath before looking up at Fancy. “Thanks, Fancy. Thanks for bringing that bastard down.”

He smiled and nodded. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Captain.”

“You’re bucking right.”

They shared a weak chuckle, but then she released his hoof. “You go on, Fancy. Admire your trophy, see if you can find a taxidermist, whatever. I think these guys need you out of the way.”

“Okay.” He stepped back with a broad smile. “When this is over, I expect to meet your daughter.”

“She might be a little y-young for you.” Oak winced but didn’t lose her smile. “Then again, I bet she’d love to meet the Dragonslayer of Sueño.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “One more title I gotta live with. Thanks again, Captain; next time I’ll take the fangs.”

“Please do.” She waved at him. “Now g-go on, git! I don’t like ponies fussing over me. I’m gonna get enough of that from m-my husband.”

As he turned away, Fancy found the colonel watching him at a distance. He approached the stallion and sat beside him. The two gazed at the deceased dragon, its body looming high over their heads. The rest of the soldiers were now either resting or hurrying to help the wounded, leaving them alone.

“So,” Fancy said, “what’s next?”

Colonel Mander took a moment to rub his blood-stained neck with a grimace. “We leave. There’s no way we’ll be able to pull something like this off a second time. We probably lost a full third of the ponies we had.”

“A retreat?” Fancy sighed and cast his gaze to the bodies still left unattended. “Back to Estéril Pezuñas?”

“Anything else would be suicide.”

Fancy nodded and gradually lowered to rest on his barrel, wincing at his sore muscles. “I guess there’s no other option. We’ll need to get the eggs in the keep, we may be able to use them to broker a peace.”

“The dragons might just listen,” the colonel said. “After all, we just proved they aren’t immortal.”

Fancy shifted and stared at his hooves. “I’m more interested in proving we aren’t kidnapping and crushing their eggs.”

Colonel Mander gave him a curious look. “Are you so sure we’re not?”

“No, and that’s what scares me.”

Seconds passed in silence. At some point Fancy felt the air slowly leaving him, as if he were a balloon that had been punctured. His shoulders sagged and his chin touched the ground as the overwhelming comprehension finally struck him: they’d won. He’d stared in death’s scaley face and killed a dragon. His entire body began to tremble as a cold wave of euphoria came over him.

“Colonel?

“Hmm?”

“If I ever get it in my head to d-do something like that again, I want you to kick me.”

The colonel chuckled. “You got it.”

Fancy felt a grin coming to his lips. For the first time in what felt like weeks, he relaxed.

Their ears perked to the sound of shouting. They turned to look back at the crumbled wall of the keep, where a group of ponies were rapidly gathering. Fancy and Colonel Mander shared curious looks before getting up and approaching, the colonel leaning on Fancy for support.

One of the Redwings spotted them coming. “Colonel, First Lieutenant! You’re gonna want to see this.”

“Well, get the hay outta the way,” the colonel growled, and the group obediently made room.

There was a pony lying beneath the rubble, and Fancy soon realized it was Whinnie. H could only assume that she fell from the keep when the dragon had attacked it. She was a mess, one leg crushed beneath a massive chunk of stonework and blood seeping from various wounds in her body. Right away, he noticed what had everypony’s attention: her blood was green. He gaped at the sight, trying to process what it meant.

Whinnie heaved a shuddering breath and opened her eyes. She stared up at him for a few seconds, then offered a toothy smile. “W-well, looks like your plan worked after all.”

Fancy swallowed the lump in his throat. “Whinnie, what is—”

“Don’t call m-me that,” she hissed, blood oozing out her mouth. “I hate that n-name.” She smiled again and closed her eyes. Her horn sparked.

Fancy reached forward, but he was pulled back by the colonel. Whinnie’s body erupted in green flame, and Fancy felt his heart hit his throat at the pyromantic display. Soon a black creature lay in Whinnie’s place. The creature coughed and gazed up at him with big, blue eyes.

“You look surprised.” Whinnie grinned through the blood. “We had you completely fooled, d-didn’t we?”

“We?” Fancy took a step back, eyes wide. “You mean there are more of you?”

“The commander,” Colonel Mander growled. “He’s a changeling too, isn’t he?”

The changeling heaved a weak chuckle. “Is that what y-you expect? For me to spill everything? S-simpletons, no wonder you were s-so easy to manipulate.”

“You little—”

Fancy raised his leg before the colonel, who shot him a scowl. He observed the changeling, his heart heavy at the sight of it. “Is there anything we can do for you?”

The changeling spat at him, missing by a wide margin. “Don’t pre… pretend you care, pony. Soon you will all b-be bowing to the glorious Q-Queen Chrysalis.” Her body spasmed for a couple seconds and she moaned.

Fancy knelt down next to the changeling and leaned in close, looking directly into her eyes. “Can we help you?”

It considered him, then began to hack. It managed to wheeze a pitiful “No.”

“Understood.” Fancy reached down to hold the changeling’s free hoof. “If you have anything to say, now’s the time.”

The changeling sneered, but then its face softened. After a moment’s consideration, it gripped Fancy’s hoof. “My n-name is… is Riodin Edea and… and I love the hive. When y-you… you ponies kill our k-kind, remember that we… we fight for the same reason.”

Fancy held her hoof tightly. “And what reason is that, Riodin Edea?”

She let out a long, slow breath. Her eyes focused on something far over Fancy’s shoulder. A smile drifted to her lips.

“Home.”

Her grip failed, her body fell limp. A second later, her eyes dimmed.

Fancy set her hoof down and stepped back, his heart heavy. “That’s a good reason.”

Colonel Mander hadn’t lost his scowl. “This changes everything. To think that changelings were involved all this time. Now it’s more urgent than ever we get back to the castle.”

“You’re right,” Fancy whispered, his gaze still set on the changeling. “We’ll grant enough time to check the wounded and rest, then we’ll march. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

Fancy stood there for some time, even after the others left. He couldn’t bring himself to stop looking at Riodin. Never in his life had he ever expected to see a changeling, and now that he had… it hadn’t gone at all like the stories. Changelings were supposed to be monsters, weren’t they? Whinnie had deceived them all, and was probably at least partially responsible for Commander Dune’s nonsensical orders. It could be that hundreds of ponies had died because of her, and those were just the ones he knew about.

So why couldn’t he look at her as a monster?

Home. Was it really that simple? The idea reminded him of—

Fancy’s heart slammed into his throat. He turned around and gazed at the ponies. He took them all in, his eyes dancing from one to another and another in search of a pink coat and blonde mane. Such a combination was nowhere to be seen.

“Where… Where’s Private Sundae?”

Author's Note

It took me a while to figure out how Eruk would go down, but in the end I'm rather pleased with the results. Now there's just one dragon left...

Onwards!

Transit

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter XVII
Transit

The first thing that told Fine he was awake were the sledgehammers pounding against his cranium. He groaned and rubbed his forehead with both hooves, wondering what he’d done to deserve such pain. When he finally opened his eyes, he was staring at the familiar blue ceiling of the travel tent he’d purchased in Estéril Pezuñas. His memory returned slowly, as if his brain sought to spoon feed him to prevent overwhelming him with information.

He rolled over and sat up, wincing at the pain the act produced. Reaching back, he felt a large bump on the back of his head. Well, that explained a little. He blinked to clear his vision, his eyes finally falling upon his packs in a corner of the tent. He tested his magic and, relieved to encounter no pain from doing so, promptly pulled the packs closer. A quick examination found the bread; though his stomach rumbled, he only ate a few bites.

With his hunger sated for the time being, he turned his attention to the half-opened tent flap. Light streamed through the opening, agitating his headache, but he muscled his way past the pain and approached. Carefully, he pulled back the other flap, gradually taking in the harsh light. It took several seconds for his vision to clear, at which point he finally pushed his way through.

He noticed the dragon immediately; it was impossible not to. Parjin’s head rose from the dirt to study him with a toothy smile. “Ah, the young warrior lives after all.”

“Fine!” He winced at the shout and turned to see Fleur standing beside the tent, where his notebook lay open. She hurried to him and pressed in close. “You’re okay! You were out so long, I was starting to worry.”

“Quietly, please,” he grumbled, rubbing his head as she stepped back. “I’ve got enough of a headache as it is.”

“Sorry.” Fleur blushed and sat before him, looking him up and down. “Other than that, how are you feeling?”

“Not bad, considering I had an entire lake fall on my head.” He thought back on those last confusing, terrifying moments and shuddered. “I… don’t remember everything. That happens when water is involved.” He blushed and glanced away. “I didn’t… panic or say crazy things, did I?”

“Panic?” Fleur tilted her head. “By the time I found you, you were already unconscious.”

“Good.” He closed his eyes and was hit by a vision of a massive mouth, sharp fangs and lots of water. A shudder ran through him. “I appreciate the solution, Fleur, but don’t expect me to be very helpful in situations where water is involved.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He turned to Parjin, who watched them with a curious smile. “Hello again, Elderwyrm. I take it Fleur’s caught you up with everything?”

“She has, indeed.” Parjin raised a lone claw, displaying the purple and green egg. “And she delivered to me this, for which I am most grateful.”

At the sight of the egg, Fine wilted. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save the others.”

“On the contrary, the eggs are not lost,” Parjin said. “You’d be amazed how resilient dragon eggs can be. They are buried, true, but I’d wager most, if not all, are intact. We need only recover them, which the dragons will do as soon as I have gone to share this news. You did well, my friend, and have my deepest appreciation.”

With that weight lifted off his shoulders, Fine’s attention immediately turned to his other considerations. “What about the changelings? Tialvis?”

Here Parjin’s smile faded to a grim frown. “I watched the lake drain as the tunnels collapsed. Tialvis never appeared. In all likelihood, she has drowned along with the vast majority of her allies. I drove off the few changelings that survived.”

Fine dropped to his belly, wincing as his head throbbed. “Then it’s done. Reddux can’t possibly gain the support he needs from the hoards.”

“The fighting is not over,” Parjin replied, his firm tone catching Fine’s attention. “Reddux and Eruk will continue to attack Equestria even without the help of the other dragons. Even so, we may convince the hoards to come to your aid, swiftly ending the conflict.”

“That’s good to know.” Fine stretched, his back emitting a loud pop that made him moan. That done, he turned to Fleur. “Well then, I guess this means our mission is done. Best head back to civilization.” He leaned sideways to look over her shoulder. “I see you managed to read my notebook.”

Fleur smirked, her horn glowing as the book rose and hovered between them. “Told you I’d get it eventually. You’ve got some interesting ideas in there; I like the mafia concept in particular.”

He grinned and accepted the notebook. “Thanks. Now if I can just… what’s this?” A letter dropped from between the pages. He caught it before it could hit the dirt.

“Oh, that appeared while you were sleeping,” Fleur said. “I haven’t read it, I figure it’s probably related to your hush-hush job.”

He stared at her. “You didn’t look at it? How’d you manage that?”

She fidgeted and glanced away with a blush. “It was tempting, but… I’m the apprentice now, right? I should at least try to respect that role. Good impressions and all.”

Fine continued to gaze at her, but then gained a warm smile. She gawked in response, to which he could only laugh. “Alright, then. Let’s see what my boss has to say.” He opened the letter and poured over its contents.

Fleur turned to Parjin. “Thanks for telling me more about the history of Equestria. It was very interesting!”

Parjin gave her a toothy smile. “It was the least I could do, young one. I would be happy to tell you more, in the off chance you ever visit the Burning Lands.”

“I’ll have to think on that,” she replied pleasantly. “It does seem a little too—”

“Holy. Buck.”

They turned their attention to Fine, who had dropped the letter and was staring with wide eyes at the horizon.

Fleur hesitated, then took a step closer. “Fine? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, for his analytical mind was a swimming through the possibilities brought up by the letter, each more terrible than the last. He only jolted out of it when Fleur tapped him on the shoulder, making him jump as if shocked. He immediately turned to Parjin. “Can you fly us to Estéril Pezuñas? Now?”

Parjin’s head reared slowly as he considered the question. “I could, of course, but I must return to the Burning Lands. The dragons—”

“There’s no time!” Fine jumped to his hooves. “My boss has disappeared, and he was looking for Celestia. The princess is missing, my boss is missing…” He shivered as memories of the earlier interrogation returned to him. “The changelings… The changelings may have Celestia, and if they do all of Equestria is in far bigger trouble than any of us thought!”

Fleur covered her lips with both hooves, eyes going wide. “B-but if they have the princess while she’s in a recovery sleep, they… they…”

“They’ll put her in one of those pods,” Fine finished for her with a grim nod. “I don’t think any of us can imagine how bad that would be.”

“Your point is made,” Parjin hissed, standing and stretching his massive golden wings. “I would not let those foul creatures bring harm to the princess.” He extended his palm to the ground. “Climb on, both of you. I will fly you with all due haste to the city. Let us pray it is not too late.”

Fancy stared at the bodies. There were dozens of them, arranged in neat circles throughout the cool room of the tower. The temperature had already dropped precipitously, but it wasn’t the chill that made him shiver so much as the thought that there were two more floors of bodies above him.

“You shouldn’t keep coming here.”

Fancy glanced over his shoulder to find Colonel Mander approaching him. The colonel hobbled, one of his legs in a splint, but if he was in any pain there was no indication of it on that stoic face.

“I know,” Fancy said. “It’s unhealthy. Even so, I feel I owe it to them to make sure everything’s right.”

The colonel carefully sat, shifting his leg to as comfortable a position as possible, then patted Fancy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, your unicorn pals know what they’re doing. They’ll have this place colder than the Frozen North within a couple hours.”

Fancy lowered his head with a sigh. “I can’t believe we have to leave them here.”

“They’ll last until we can return with wagons,” Colonel Mander reminded him. “They’ll get their burial, Fancy. Even the changeling, though I don’t know why you’re so determined to give it the same rights as a pony.”

“‘It’ was a ‘she,’” Fancy growled. “Just because they are our enemies doesn’t mean we don’t need to show respect. We’d want them to do the same for us.”

The colonel huffed. “As if they would.”

Fancy shot him a glower. “That doesn’t mean we have to behave in the same way. I’m sure Celestia would agree.”

“Probably,” Colonel Mander said, “but I’m a soldier, not a princess.”

With a sigh, Fancy left the colonel behind, walking carefully around the bodies. It didn’t take long for him to reach his destination, having been there a dozen times already. He knelt beside a pink body and brushed back a blonde fringe that refused to stay in place. Frosty was as cold as ice, but at least she looked peaceful.

He trembled. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her smashing into the dragon’s back, her spear splintering like a twig. It had only been a glance, but he could still vividly picture it. He’d hardly noticed at the time, but now that the image replayed over and over again he could see the way her back bent backwards from the impact.

A pegasus did catch her… but it didn’t matter.

“I hope your brother never finds out about this,” Fancy whispered. “I hope he spends all his life never knowing the fate of his sister, a fate that could have been avoided entirely.” He stood on wobbling legs. “I know it’s not my fault, but I’m sorry.”

Frosty said nothing. She never did. Her eyes remained closed, her expression peaceful. Even so, Fancy imagined that she was giving him the tiniest of smiles. It helped… a little.

He stood and turned for the exit. Colonel Mander was still there, watching him with a grim frown. Before the colonel could speak, he asked, “So how long before we’re ready to go?”

“Don’t know,” the colonel admitted, joining him for the door. “Why don’t we go ask our new drill sergeant?”

Fancy chuckled, slowing his pace to one Colonel Mander could keep up with. “Is that an actual title or just what everypony calls her?”

“Just what everypony calls her.” The colonel sighed despite his smile. “I’m betting she’ll retire within a year. That pony’s just not meant to have a desk job.”

“I believe it.” The hallway for the keep exit was cooler than usual, undoubtedly due to the cold air in the center of the tower itself. Fancy braced himself as they approached the door, the handle shining in his magical grasp. As soon as the door was opened, a wave of unpleasant heat poured in on them.

Fancy blinked, his ears perking and aiming forward. He glanced at the colonel, who was already halfway through the door. “By the Goddess, she’s not shouting.”

“Maybe she’s gone hoarse,” Colonel Mander replied.

“Or had heatstroke.” Fancy stepped out and turned his gaze immediately to the castle wall by the gate. A crate had been pushed against the stonework, and on top of it was a large cushion. Lying on that cushion was none other than Oak Feathers, her expression harsh as she watched the soldiers and guards working to clean up some of the damage and load a couple supply wagons. Bandages covered the stubs that were once her hind legs and her wings ruffled with apparent frustration.

Fancy trotted to her ahead of the colonel. “Hey, Captain. You’re looking as sunny as ever.”

“Don’t be cute, First Lieutenant,” she snapped, wiping sweat from her brow. “That’s my husband’s job.” Her head snapped about. “You take one more step towards that well, Private, and I’ll throw you in it!” A pony halfway down the wall jumped and turned back for the boulder he and four others were struggling to move towards a large pile.

She jerked her head again, this time towards the well. It reminded Fancy of a hawk on the hunt. “Did he signal for a refreshment, Mr. Button?” The unicorn at the well promptly released the crank of the well. A couple seconds later the private gave a hoof signal and the crank started turning again.

Oak grumbled and fidgeted, her wings fluffing. “Just when you think you’ve got the lazy foals organized, they try to slip something past you.” She turned her attention back to the patiently waiting Fancy and Colonel Mander. “Well, are you just gonna gawk or what?”

“You’re really on your game,” Fancy noted with a grin.

“If I weren’t on immobility orders from the medics, I’d knock that smirk off your face.” She shuffled about a little and cursed under her breath. “I ain’t taking a break, so don’t you bucking suggest it.”

“Calm down, boss,” Colonel Mander replied with a chuckle. “We just need an estimate for when Fancy and the rest can get on their way.”

Another snap of the head. “Put that crate down, Mr. Keys! I told you, food and water are the first thing ponies will be after, so it goes in last!” She rubbed the side of her head and mumbled something indecipherable. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour or two, if I can get these bumblers to do anything right.”

Fancy shared a knowing glance with the colonel. “I don’t know if you’re going to survive as a logistics officer, Captain.”

Oak pushed herself into as close to a sitting position as she could, her chest puffing up and her wings flaring. “I can do this job better than anypony, I don’t care how boring it is!”

“If you say so.” The colonel grinned, something that took even Oak aback. “If you ask me—”

“Dragon!”

All heads whipped up as a trio of Redwings flew over the wall. “Another dragon’s coming!”

“Son of a—positions!” The colonel shot a hoof at Oak. “If you so much as think about flapping those wings, I’ll break them.”

Captain Feathers stamped and growled. “I can still, fly, damn it. Get me a spear!”

“There’s no time,” Fancy snapped. “Everypony needs to go inside! Maybe we can trick it into thinking we’ve abandoned the keep.”

Oak grimaced. “You want us to hide?”

“It’s better than dying,” Colonel Mander admitted. He turned and made for the door. “Everypony, to the keep! All hooves inside now!”

Nopony needed to be told twice; every single soldier and guard dropped what they were doing and fled for safety. Fancy turned to Oak, who managed to launch, albeit clumsily. “Need any help, Captain?”

She glared at the empty sky for a moment. “I can’t fly through the door, you’ll have to help me through.”

“Got it.” He broke into a gallop, Oak following close behind. He stopped at the door and let the captain drop onto his back. Even without hind legs, she was startlingly light.

She sagged over his shoulder and hissed in his ear. “If word of this reaches my husband, I will kill you.”

“Quiet as a mouse,” he replied, hurrying inside. The two waited by the door as more ponies rushed inside. When the stream finally ceased, he began to shut the door.

“Leave it open a crack,” Oak whispered, and he obeyed.

Silence filled the keep. Fancy glanced back to find the hall filled with wide-eyed, shivering soldiers and guards. There was no question; they knew they wouldn’t survive a fight this time. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Fancy stepped back from the door to keep out of sight and watched with bated breath.

The seconds ticked by, the quiet hovering over everypony like the claw of death. It felt like ages before the familiar flapping of massive wings reached his ears, and then there came the sound of something large landing outside the keep. Fancy still couldn’t see it, but from the noise he suspected the dragon had landed within the walls.

A deep, calm voice reached his ears. “Yes, it is Eruk. It seems the defenders succeeded in killing Reddux’s only other ally.”

Oak shifted to Fancy’s other shoulder, trying to peer through the small gap in the door. “Who’s he talking to? Is there another dragon out there?”

“I don’t think so,” Fancy muttered.

“My eyes are a thousand years too old,” the dragon continued. “I did not see any ponies from overhead.” There was a long pause. “I understand your concern, young one, but your companion’s point is well made.”

Fancy glanced back at the ponies behind him, some of whom were passing out spears. Fear and uncertainty lingered in their expressions, but he also saw anger. Hesitantly, he moved closer to the door, but still could see nothing of the dragon.

“Celestia cannot wait,” the dragon said, his voice chastising. “If you are to save her, we should leave. This kill is fresh; perhaps we will come upon survivors on the way to the—”

Fancy ducked back at the dragon’s abrupt pause. Had somepony been spotted?

“I see. Hurry, then; I will wait outside the walls to avoid spreading fear.”

A moment later the dragon’s wings could be heard once more as it lifted off. Fancy thought on the half of a conversation he’d been privy to and felt he had an idea what was coming.

“They’re going to search the keep,” Oak whispered. “Changelings?”

Murmurs spread through the halls, but Fancy raised his hoof to catch everypony’s attention. “Maybe not.” His eyes roamed the mass of faces, but he saw no sign of Colonel Mander. He cursed under his breath; he could have really used the colonel’s advice. Thinking on the risks, he glanced back at the door. It didn’t take long to reach a conclusion, though it made his stomach churn.

“Somepony take the captain, I’m going out.”

“What?” How the captain managed to avoid shouting, Fancy had no idea. “You can’t do that, they’ll kill you.”

“Better me than everypony,” he replied, glad that his voice was more certain than his mind. “We have to avoid another fight with a dragon, and this might be the only way.”

“But why you?” Oak asked as a trio of ponies worked to pull her off his back.

“Because I called it.” He waited until the others had stepped back from the door and gave Oak one last glance before gritting his teeth and stepping outside. He closed the door behind him and turned to the right where he’d thought the voices had been coming from.

“Fancy!”

He jumped, startled to see none other than Fleur charging him, an ecstatic look on her face. She all but tackled him, throwing her hooves around his neck as he stumbled backwards. “I thought you were dead!”

“Fleur?” He tried to pry her off, but she just held on more tightly. “What the hay?”

“Well, he survived a dragon attack after all.”

Fancy looked up and gaped upon seeing a familiar stallion approach. What was his name? Fine? “What are you ponies doing here?”

“Fleur insisted we look for survivors,” Fine replied, lips set in a terse frown. “I think we both know who she really wanted to see.”

Fleur finally released her hold, half turning to Fine with a scowl. “Well excuse me if I want to make sure a good stallion didn’t get eaten by a dragon!”

“Well now we know,” Fine snapped with a stomp for emphasis. “Your friend’s alive, you got what you came for. Now if you don’t mind, we have a princess to rescue.”

Fancy’s ears perked. “What about the princess?”

“Long story,” Fine said. “Reddux and changelings in cahoots, Celestia’s disappeared, probably captured and in very serious danger. Let’s go!”

“He’s right.” Fleur hurried to Fine’s side and they started for the gate. “I’m sorry, Fancy, but there’s really no time. I’m glad you’re okay!”

“Wait!” He hurried after them, and to his relief they stopped at the gate. “You’re heading to Estéril Pezuñas to save Celestia?”

Fine let out a low growl. “Yes, we’ve got a dragon to help. Anything else you have to know before we—”

“A dragon, really?”

“Yes!” Fine threw up his hooves. “Get to the point!”

Fancy’s mind was running a mile a minute. He noted Fine’s agitation and Fleur’s apparent worry. Part of him was flattered that she cared enough to stop even amidst such an important task. More powerful in his mind, however, was the knowledge that the princess might be in very real danger. If they had a dragon, they’d make it to the city in no time, and if Celestia was in trouble…

He made his decision. “Captain Feathers!” He turned to the gate. “Captain, these ponies need our assistance!”

Fine let out another growl. “Parjin might be a dragon, but he can’t carry a bunch of soldiers!”

“He doesn’t have to,” Fancy countered, “he can just carry the three of us.”

“Look, I’m not—”

Fancy turned on the stallion. “I’m not asking for an entire regiment, for buck’s sake!”

“Fancy, what’s going on over there?”

He turned to find Oak being carried out of the keep. “Captain! Can the Redwings sortie?”

“Of course they can!”

Fancy raised his head high. “Princess Celestia is in danger. I’m going with these two and their dragon ally to protect her. Can I count on your pegasi for assistance?”

Oak flew away from her carriers like a bolt of lightning to hover just above Fancy. “You’ve got it! Redwings, to me!” She thrust a hoof in his face. “And don’t even think about telling me to stay behind.”

He hesitated, pushing down his arguments as he caught the fire in her eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Fleur looked between them, then back at Fine. “This is good, right?”

Fine watched as the remaining pegasi of the 42nd assembled around Captain Feathers, his expression softening a little. “It’s certainly better than going in alone. We’ll have to brief them in transit, though; there’s no time to lose.” He turned to the gate. “Parjin, we’ve got guests!”

“Good,” the dragon’s head reared up over the walls, smiling down on them. “What is it you ponies say? ‘The more the merrier?’”

Fancy hesitated at the sight of the apparently ancient creature. For an instant, he wondered if this was the right course of action, but he cast his thoughts of changelings aside. Fleur wouldn’t have been so thrilled to see him if she’d been replaced with a changeling, of this he had no doubt, and why would the dragon pretend when it could have just smashed the keep to smithereens?

Besides, the thought of Celestia in danger was like a hot coal in his mind. He couldn’t risk it. If there was even a chance that the princess – his princess – needed help, he would offer it and to Tartarus with the consequences!

“Let’s go, ponies,” Fine snapped, hurrying to the gate.

“I’m glad you’re coming with us, Fancy,” Fleur said as they broke into a gallop.

“I’m glad you’re not dragon food,” he replied. “Redwings, our princess is in danger! We fly to Estéril Pezuñas!”

The Redwings shouted as one and took to the skies.

“Fancy!”

He paused at the gate and looked back to see Colonel Mander at the door to the keep, his expression grim. “Remember what I told you, pretty colt: mares prefer heroes over martyrs! Don’t you dare die over there!”

Fancy couldn’t resist a small smile. He nodded to the colonel before resuming his run, rounding the corner to find the dragon with one of its claws extended palm-up on the ground, Fleur and Fine already climbing on. Fancy pushed down his hesitation and leapt atop the scaled claw. The dragon promptly reared up, cupping both claws beneath its breast to hold the ponies in a loose grip, then launched.

“Fancy, Parjin,” Fine indicated the dragon. “Parjin, Fancy.”

“A pleasure,” the dragon said.

Fancy, his stomach recovering from the lurching motions, dropped to his barrel. “L-likewise.”

The Redwings flew in a loose formation ahead of Parjin, Captain Feathers dropping back so she was just below them. “Now if you don’t mind, we’d all like to know exactly how Princess Celestia’s in trouble.”

“Right,” Fine answered with a nod. “Fleur, would you?”

“You want me to explain it?”

Another firm nod. Fine’s eyes were aimed forward and glazed, but there was a manner of intense focus on his face. “I’m trying to think of the best way to use our new resources.”

“Oh… um, alright then.” Fleur blushed as all the ponies present shifted attention to her, the pegasi’s ears turning to indicate their focus. “Well, I guess I’ll start with how we met Parjin.”

Reddux knew something was wrong the moment he set eyes on Crater Lake, which no longer appeared to qualify for the name. A nagging worry filled him as he gradually approached, and he couldn’t help scratching at his patch of half-melted scales. Surely it couldn’t be as bad as it looked.

Yet as he hovered over the crater, his anxiety only grew worse. The lake had been drained almost completely, with only a few small ponds to be found at the very bottom. He flew a tight circle before landing at the cave entrance. He stared at the dark opening in silence, waiting for one of the changelings to greet him. None came.

Slowly, he moved on all fours and entered the darkness. His eyes swiftly adjusted. “Tialvis?”

He didn’t get far before he was forced to stop, for water now filled the tunnel. Bodies floated in the gloom, but there were two of the foul creatures sitting by the water’s edge. They jumped to their hooves upon his arrival, blue eyes wide with clear terror.

Reddux lowered his head to them, his own alarm stifling any ill will he might have once felt for the changelings. “What happened?”

The changelings exchanged wary expressions. It took some time, but one of them finally conjured the nerve to speak. “Two ponies came and sabotaged the operation.”

“Two ponies?” Reddux could only gape.

The trembling changeling nodded. “They snuck through to the egg chamber and flooded the entire network. We… we lost everything.” It bowed its head and sagged. “So many good soldiers lost…”

Reddux dropped to his belly, the impact shaking the tunnel and sending dust flying. He stared at the quiet waters, mouth working soundlessly. At last, he managed to speak. “W-what of the eggs? Tialvis?”

The changeling whimpered and looked away, leaving the other to try and speak for him. “Lord R-Reddux, we are sorry but… b-but Tialvis drowned and the eggs…” He winced as the dragon’s eyes lowered to him. “Th-the eggs were still in the chamber. They are l-lost to us.”

With a shuddering sigh, Reddux closed his eyes and envisioned his future army. Gone… all his plans washed away. How could this even be possible? “And the two ponies?”

No answer. He opened his eyes and looked down to find the pathetic things cowering before him. “What happened to them?”

“Th-the ponies… escaped.”

His jaw dropped a second time.

The changeling raised his hooves as if to placate. “We are not responsible! A dragon helped them!”

“A dragon?” Reddux’s blood ran cold. “What dragon? Describe him.”

“Golden,” the first changeling said. “Scarred. He looked ancient.”

“Parjin.” Reddux heaved, a flame brewing in his chest. His claws kneaded the bare rock, leaving long scratches in the stone. “That meddling, backwards… ignorant fool of a wyrm.” He trembled, a low growl rising in his throat as the fire grew hotter with each passing second. He abruptly reared his head back and sucked in a deep breath.

The changelings shrieked and bolted, diving for the water despite the bodies that bobbed within. The flames of Reddux’s rage covered the cave; he blew and blew, the flames turning the walls red and steam rising with a barely discernible hiss. The instant he’d run out of breath, Reddux turned for the exit, stomping with all the force he could muster. Out in the sun, he turned and dug his claws into the crater wall, ripping and gouging at the rock until it collapsed over the cave and tumbled the entire wall.

He stepped out of range of the falling rock, heaving and snarling with every breath. His scar burned, reminding him of the accursed princess he loathed so much. His eyes turned to the sun, then to the north.

Ponies. He snorted smoke and spread his wings, launching into the hot air. He would go to the fort and meet Eruk, and together they would smash that hated pony city! And once it was little more than a smoldering pile of bones, their rampage would truly begin.

Reddux would not rest until Canterlot itself lay in ruins.

Estéril Pezuñas

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter XVIII
Estéril Pezuñas

Worry gnawed at Reddux when he spotted the fort from a distance. He’d not flown into Eruk yet, and had presumed he remained at the keep, but the walls appeared largely intact. He narrowed his eyes, wondering about the lack of destruction. There was damage, he could see that much, but nowhere near the amount he’d anticipated. It seemed to take ages to close the distance, but at last Reddux hovered low over the fort.

The sight of Eruk’s body crumbled against one of the walls sent a shiver down Reddux’s spine. He landed beside his comrade and slowly reached out. His claws touched scales. The body felt hot, but the eternally burning sun easily explained that. Carefully, Reddux shook Eruk by the shoulder, but there was no response.

“This… cannot be.”

Arms shaking, he snatched Eruk’s head and jerked it upwards, but still the dragon didn’t move. Gripping the horns, Reddux turned the head so he could see the face… and promptly dropped it. Eruk’s chin hit the ground as Reddux gaped upon the butt of a tiny spear protruding from an eye.

Reddux’s lips curled up in a snarl. His claws opened and closed repeatedly. “You… you fool. How could you lose? To ponies? What happened to slaughtering them in the name of your mate?” He turned away, seething and growling at the keep. He pounded the stone, smashing his fists into it again and again and emitting vicious, ugly sounds in his throat. His wound burned, his mind afire, his vision red!

With a roar, he ripped a huge chunk of stone off the wall, turned and smashed it directly onto Eruk’s head. “You were supposed to be useful! A warrior! You can rot in Tartarus alongside your pathetic mate. I have no need for dragons who cannot even kill a few ponies!”

He turned away, smoke billowing from his nostrils. For some time he merely stood there, taking deep breaths and steadily calming himself, yet no amount of time would let the fire die. He thought back to the state of Crater Lake and the fate of Tialvis, scratching at his melted scales.

The very thought that ponies were responsible for these setbacks made him sick to his stomach. It had been a mistake to trust the changelings. Their incompetence had resulted in Tialvis’ death, and their ‘agents’ had clearly failed to render the fort defenseless. They had probably already lost control of Celestia as well. There could be only one solution: he’d have to go to Estéril Pezuñas and slaughter every single pony in the city, including the princess. And the changelings…

They were fair game.

His decision made, Reddux turned his attention to his surroundings. No ponies had appeared during his tantrum. Had they abandoned the fort? Or perhaps they were hiding. Even if they managed to kill Eruk, they had to have suffered calamitous casualties in the process. He considered tearing the keep down stone-by-stone, just to be sure.

No, there was no need. This place was but a stepping stone. Estéril Pezuñas deserved his attention far more. This in mind, he spread his wings and launched into the clear blue sky. It didn’t take him long to spot the caravan in the distance. The sight brought a smile to his lips.

Fleur reared, setting her hooves onto the edge of Parjin’s claw, and gazed upon the northern horizon. “There’s the castle!”

Indeed, the castle was just visible as a small mound in the distance. To the East there was only blue water as far as the eye could see. To the West stood the low rise of the Surcingle Mountains, which appeared even more dry than the usual. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the sun unleashed its unrelenting heat upon the land below. Even the winds that rushed in her face felt warm.

Fancy pulled Fleur back by the tail. “Be careful, Miss Purpurnyj.”

Captain Feathers, lying against Parjin’s massive chest, gave him a dour look. “Cut her some slack, First Lieutenant.” She turned to Fine, who stared at the city with a stoic, dark expression. “Are you sure about this plan of yours, pal?”

His tone matched his expression. “None of you objected.”

“’Cause none of us have anything better.” She shifted, rubbing her flanks just above her bandages. “Still, you’re talking about taking only a few of my Redwings down there to save Celestia. What if the dungeons are crawling with changelings?”

He shrugged. “That’s why it’s up to you and Fleur are to convince Sir Deeds to get down there fast.”

Fancy turned to him, expression grim. “I still don’t like that you want Fleur to face him without either of us.”

At last Fine stirred. He glanced at Fancy, no emotion betrayed by his manner, then turned to Fleur. She promptly hardened under his gaze as he said, “Fleur is always free to reject the plan. Fleur?”

Though her heart was hammering against her chest at the thought, Fleur kept her face as firm as she could manage. She knew exactly why Fine had arranged things this way, and she had no intention of disappointing him. “I want to do this.”

He nodded, the tiniest hint of a smile forming on his lips. “I thought as much. Besides—” he turned to Fancy, “—Captain Feathers and her Redwings are going to protect her.”

Oak smirked. “Sorry for taking your mare, Fancy.” She turned to Fleur. “Consider yourself in good hooves, filly.”

Fleur relaxed and flashed Fancy her best smile. “I do. Thank you, Captain.”

Fancy scowled but said nothing.

Parjin’s voice rumbled down at them. “We will be over the city soon. You should all prepare now. I am sure the defenders will not be kind enough to let me drop you off.”

Oak pulled herself up into as close a sitting position as she could. “Right. Give me a hoof, boys.”

Fancy and Fine both approached, each taking one of her hooves. “You sure about this?” Fine asked.

“You’re not a bag of flour to drag around,” Fancy added with a frown.

“Stallions.” Oak rolled her eyes and pulled, and they responded in kind. They dragged her to the edge of Parjin’s claw and lifted her up. Fleur had to admit it looked rather silly as they tossed her over the side. Seconds later Oak was flying just before Parjin, her wings beating in a slow rhythm as the rest of the 42nd Squadron gathered around her in a tight formation.

“Alright,” she shouted over the wind, “Second Flight, I want you to take Fine Crime and Fancy Pants. Fly them directly to the entrance of the castle dungeons and stick with them! Until you hear from me, consider Fancy in charge.”

“Fleur.”

Fleur turned to find Fancy standing over her. “Take care, okay? If that bastard does anything to you while I’m gone—”

She silenced him with a hoof to his lips and offered what she hoped was a confident smile. “Don’t worry, Fancy. Daring Deeds holds no power over me anymore. I’ll be alright.”

Fancy stared at her for some time, shuffling from hoof to hoof as his lips worked.

“Hey, rich colt,” Oak shouted. “We don’t have all day!”

With a flinch, Fancy finally managed a quiet “Be safe” before turning and joining Fine at the edge.

Fine stared at the ground below, then gave Fancy an uncertain look. “You ready for this? It’s a long way down.”

At that Fancy barked a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this once already.” He shot one more look at Fleur – a confident grin this time – and jumped off.

“Well, alright then.” Fine hesitated, apparently not so eager to take the plunge. After a moment he turned to Fleur. “Remember, Fleur, you don’t have to face him. Just getting him to the dungeons will be enough.”

His voice was wavering. It seemed even the steadfast Fine Crime had things that gave him pause. Fleur found this oddly reassuring, and she nodded. “I’ll be fine, Fine.”

He offered a weak smile. “Of course you will.” He turned back to the edge, sucked in a deep breath, closed his eyes… and finally stepped off.

Fleur hurried to the edge and looked down just in time to see Fine caught by one of the pegasus soldiers. Fancy was also being carried, although two pegasi were needed to keep him aloft. Along with five other pegasi, they swooped over the city and flew for the castle’s western wall.

“Alright, my little pony,” Oak called, “your turn.”

Parjin slowed his flight until he was hovering just beyond the buildings. Fleur could see the panicking ponies in the streets below, but didn’t have time to worry about that. Parjin brought his claw out, and soon one of the pegasi had caught Fleur from behind. Her stomach churned at the abrupt motion and she sucked down a sharp gasp.

“Alright, ponies, we’re going to the castle to meet with Sir Daring Deeds.” Oak flew a tight circle and darted off, followed by her squadron and Fleur.

“Good luck, my friends,” Parjin called. “I will remain at a distance to ease the minds of the citizens.”

Fleur looked down and saw the world passing by in a blur. It made her stomach roil even more, and she promptly brought her eyes forward. As she stared at the castle rising tall over the city, she realized what she was about to do.

She suddenly wished she was back under Crater Lake.

The flight to the castle was surprisingly smooth. Fancy had expected there to be some negative reaction to a bunch of pegasi flying alongside a dragon, but no defenders rose from the castle to stop their approach. He did see a lot of soldiers mustering along the walls, but they paid the squadron no mind at all. They landed without incident in the castle’s western courtyard, which was covered in dried, brown grass and shrubs.

Fancy gave himself a moment to steady his stomach as the pegasi all landed in a circle around them. He turned to see that Fine Crime’s face was green, but the stallion managed to stay steady. “So, does anypony know exactly where the dungeons are?”

The soldiers exchanged uncertain looks, but Fine raised his hoof as soon as he had recovered from the flight sickness. “I do. Come on, everypony, and be careful: we have no idea who is or isn’t a changeling.”

He led them to a door, neatly set in an out-of-the-way corner. They ran down a long, empty hallway that was so hot Fancy wondered if he wasn’t roasting on the inside. Within seconds, Fine had paused next to another door. His horn shimmered, but the door didn’t budge. “Locked, of course. Give me a second.”

“What are you ponies doing here?”

They all turned with a jerk. A young pegasus in leather armor flinched at the sudden attention, but didn’t back down. “This area is off limits.”

Fine peered at the stallion. “And who are you?”

The pegasus eyed them, fidgeting and ruffling his feathers. “The jailer. Now explain yourselves.”

The jailer? Fancy stepped forward and examined the stallion. He was yellow with a silver mane. He looked startlingly familiar, but Fancy couldn’t place him. Somehow he knew he had seen this stallion before.

He shook off his examination when the stallion took a cautious step back. “We are here to protect Princess Celestia. We know she’s being kept in the dungeons, and her life is in jeopardy.”

Fine let out a small hiss, and Fancy glanced back to see stark disapproval in his frown.

“That’s nonsense,” the jailer snapped. “There’s nopony down there right now. You should be outside preparing for that dragon!”

Fine stepped forward, head high and expression ominous. “We know she’s down there. If you think otherwise, open the door and show us. It’ll be a lot faster than us standing here and arguing about it.”

The jailer shifted from hoof to hoof, his eyes going to the pegasi soldiers who looked about ready to skewer him. His hesitation had Fancy on edge, for he had to admit that the situation looked odd.

But at last the jailer sighed and pulled out some keys from his vest. “Fine, it’s not like there’s anything important down there. Better to get this over with so you can go face that dragon like the others.”

Fancy’s ears perked, his eyes going wide. Dragon…

He knew exactly where he’d seen this stallion before.

They parted to let the jailer through, but as he passed Fancy moved in close. He shot a glance at Fine Crime and motioned for him to keep his distance. Fine raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless kept in the back of the herd.

The jailer took his time finding the right key, mumbling something to himself. At last he found the one he was looking for and began to unlock the door. He stepped through as soon as it was open. “Come on, then.”

Fancy followed him down the stairs, prepping the spell in his mind. He would need about a half-second to get it going, but surprise would be on his side. “Tell me, weren’t the dungeons abandoned years ago?”

“That’s right.”

“So why is there any need of a jailer?”

The jailer missed a step, but didn’t stop walking. “Well, I… I’m really more of a keykeeper and locksmith, really. You’d be amazed how often the nobles end up locking the wrong doors.”

“I’m sure.” They reached the bottom of the stairs, coming upon a long, dark hallway with empty cells on either side. Fancy, his grasp on the spell firm, paused as the stallion turned to him. “I was also wondering about your wing.”

The jailer cocked his head, then glanced back at his wings. “What about my wing?”

Fancy smiled, but his body tensed. “It looks really good for having been broken very recently, Mr. Cantante.”

“What are you—” The stallion’s eyes went wide and he began to backpedal. Fancy’s horn flashed and a yellow, aural sword appeared before him. The blade pierced the jailer's throat just as he was about to shout out a warning.

His blood was green.

Fancy cancelled the spell and the changeling hit the floor as soon as the aural sword had disappeared. He squirmed and clutched at his throat, emitting weak gasps. The sight made Fancy’s stomach churn and he promptly turned away. It had seemed so straightforward a moment ago, but now he just felt dirty. Frosty was right: he wasn’t soldier material.

The pegasi gathered around, some examining the changeling but most eyeing their surroundings. Fine stepped up and watched the jailer’s last, desperate gasp. “I’m actually rather impressed.”

Fancy sucked down a gulp of air and turned to examine his dark deed. As he did, the changeling’s yellow coat shriveled and warped, gradually shifting to something that was half-changeling, half-pony, like a regular pony’s coat had been stretched tight around a changeling’s chitinous carapace. The sight filled him with horror and he turned away again. Was that how they all looked when killed in-disguise? There was the rattling of keys, and Fancy turned to see that Fine had taken the jailer’s chain.

“Alright, everypony.” Fine gestured down the hall. “Keep your eyes on the cells. We don’t want any surprises.”

They moved slowly, eyes tracing their surroundings in the dark hallway. The place felt fairly stereotypical of a dungeon: bland stone walls and ceiling, small cells filled with grime, shackles on the floors and walls. It struck Fancy as very old-fashioned… but then, Estéril Pezuñas was an old city. It was no wonder these cells hadn’t been used in so long; modern standards rendered this place obsolete.

To Fancy’s relief, no prisoners resided in the cells. Better yet, no changelings lurked in the gloom to pounce. An eerie quiet filled the dungeon, disturbed only be the inordinately loud hoof falls of the ponies. Fancy had to wonder if maybe Fine’s information had been mistaken. Where were the changeling guards? Shouldn’t there be an alarm going out? It all felt far too easy.

The dungeon wasn’t that big, and already they reached the end of it. Fancy turned to look back the way they came, but saw nothing out of place. “Fine, are you sure of your information?” He turned back to find Fine Crime pressed against the stones, one ear flat to the wall. His horn had a dim glow to it. Fancy and the soldiers shared curious expressions.

Fine stepped back, his expression grim. “They’re back there, and waiting for us.”

Fancy blinked, then pressed his own ear to the wall. He heard nothing. “How do you know?”

“Tricks of the trade.” Fine studied the wall, tapping his knife so that it swayed. “Normally I’d pick the lock, but the changelings can re-lock the door before we’d be able to open it, to say nothing for the inevitable ambush. We’ll have to get in another way.”

“What do you propose?”

Fine closed his eyes, apparently considering the situation. “I have a spell that might get us in there, but I’ve only used it once, and that was just me. I think I can manage two ponies, though.”

Fancy stared at him. “Are you suggesting we send just two ponies in there to fight the changelings?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Fine replied with a smile. “I’m suggesting we send two ponies in there, one to catch them off guard and the other to unlock the door for everypony else.”

Fancy grimaced and kicked at the floor. “That still sounds really risky.”

Fine turned to the pegasi. “Anypony here have a better idea?” When none bothered to answer, he turned back to Fancy. “Alright then. You’re a big colt, Fancy; think you can hold off the changelings for…” His horn shined and he closed his eyes, head shifting slightly to the wall. “Fifteen seconds?”

“Fifteen seconds?” Fancy shifted and cast a wary gaze at the wall. “It’ll take that long?”

“With a lock like this? Yes.”

Fancy’s insides did a nasty flip as he considered how many changelings might be behind the wall. He swallowed audibly and closed his eyes. He saw Long Lance, Blistering Sparks and Frosty Sundae. Their images helped him shove down the hesitation, and he managed to force a smile to his lips. “If I can face a dragon, I should be able to take on a few changelings.” He glanced back at the Redwings. “Right boys?”

The pegasi shared knowing grins. “You’ve got this,” one of them said.

“Then let’s hop to it.” Fine turned to the wall and motioned Fancy to come closer. “I’ll need you to press in close to me. Try not to get grabby.” He his face didn’t offer even a hint of amusement.

Fancy couldn’t resist a smile even as he wondered at Fine’s solid expression. “I’ll do my best.”

They pressed close to one another, and Fine’s horn began to shine. There was a long, uncertain pause as he concentrated. “Three… two… one.”

Smoke roiled up from the ground, covering the two of them and blocking all vision. Fancy held his breath. Abruptly, the air became cooler, as if it had been replaced all at once. He blinked as the clouds dissipated…

And found himself and Fine standing amongst a dozen startled changelings. For a half-second, they all simply gaped, their strange blue eyes fixed on the intruders.

Then Fine chuckled. He turned to the closest changeling with a grin. “That was cool, right?” He turned to another, which blinked as he pointed at it. “I bet you weren’t expecting that.”

An instant later, his hind legs smashed into the changeling just behind him.

Fancy jerked into motion, his horn flaring and an aural sword appearing at his side. It slashed through the chest of the nearest changeling even as he began working on another spell. Fine had already reached the now-obvious door by the time the creatures reacted.

Adrenaline fueled Fancy as he bucked and punched and slashed at them. He fought with such ferocity that most had to leap back, but he knew pure aggression wouldn’t stop them for long. Already their horns were shining, and a burst of energy flew over his shoulder to sizzle against the wall.

Fancy cracked a forehoof against the jaw of one foe not fast enough to get out of range, then leapt backwards to press against the wall. He finished his spell and brought up a shield just in time to stop a stream of beams, green fireballs and aural weapons. The shield pulsed with every hit, the impacts sending throbs of energy down Fancy’s horn.

Things seemed calm on Fancy’s side of the shield, even as the changelings threw all they had at him. He took the opportunity to analyze the situation and realized that at least half of them had been killed or knocked unconscious. Fancy couldn’t help being astounded; had he really performed that well?

Fancy horn began to ache against the onslaught. He redoubled his efforts, but knew he couldn’t keep this up for long. His ears perked to shouting, and he looked beyond his enemies to see a wave of changelings charging through the hall. There had to have been thirty of them!

“Fine, now would be a really good time to get that door open.”

Fine’s voice was smug. “If thou wish it” —the door swung open— “it shall be done!”

The majority of the changelings skidded to a halt, and those that didn’t were soon bowled over by the eight pegasi that came charging through the door, emitting battle cries and brandishing spears. Fancy released his shield and moved to join them, but this proved impossible as the size of the hall limited them to only three fighters at a time.

Fine appeared at his side, shoving his shoulder. “What are you doing? Form a shield in front of our guys!”

“What?” Despite his confusion, Fancy did as he was told, a bright yellow wall forming at the spot where the changelings and pegasi met. It had no effect on real weapons, but Fancy quickly realized the point as the changelings in the rear began lobbing spells over their allies. Fancy spaced his hooves and focused everything he had on keeping the onslaught back as the soldiers did their part.

Fancy’s height made it easier to see what was going on, and the sight left a pang of worry in his chest. The pegasi were strong fighters for their size, but they were still outnumbered three to one. Though the changelings’ magical attacks might have been useless, they were just as capable of using their hooves as any pony, and the fighting appeared brutal. Upon realizing their plan might not work, Fancy turned to Fine, but his words caught.

Fine’s horn was shining brightly, his eyes focused on the conflict.

A screech resounded through the hallway. Fancy jerked about and was astonished to see one of the changelings set ablaze. It reared back and shrieked, and the others promptly tried to back away from it, but there was no room to do so. Panic began to work its way through the changelings as they scrambled from the inferno, but those in the front were trapped by the pegasi. Confused and distracted, they began to fall like wheat before a scythe.

Then, just as soon as it started, the fire winked out. In its place stood a very confused-looking changeling, its head swiveling about at its comrades with wide blue eyes.

Then the pegasi got to it, a spear running through its shoulder and jutting out its side.

Fancy turned to see Fine Crime sweating and sucking down long gulps of air. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Fine wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’m known for my repertoire, not my strength, and that wasn’t an easy illusion.”

“I’m still impressed.” Fancy turned to see that the changelings were already beaten. A few continued their fight, but by now there were as many pegasi as changelings and ‘a few’ of them could never win against Oak’s well-trained soldiers.

Fancy and Fine followed the pegasi as they pursued the routed changelings, Fancy trying his hardest to not look at the bodies now littering the hallway. He noted at least one pegasus amongst them.

They came to a stop when the path split in three directions. The changelings has spread out, leaving the soldiers to question which way was appropriate. Fine and Fancy pushed their way to the front of the crowd. “Great,” Fancy grumbled, “now what?”

“I can’t say for certain.” Fine’s head swiveled to each of the paths. “My boss didn’t say anything about this, and we don’t have time to call up the information.”

Fancy glanced back at the pegasi, who were shifting and muttering anxiously among themselves. “Should we split up?”

Fine groaned. “That’s the fastest way to get us all killed.” He thrust his hoof to the left. “We go that way. All of us.”

Fancy raised an eyebrow. “Why that way?”

“Because it’s better than sitting here trying to come up with a solution.” Fine promptly trotted down the hall. “Come on, if we’re wrong I want to know it sooner rather than later.”

Fancy looked back to the soldiers, all of whom were watching him. He realized that they weren’t going to do anything without his lead. He grumbled at the concept; why’d he have to go and kill a dragon? He didn’t want soldiers looking at him like that. Even so, he turned and trotted after Fine, and soon the soldiers followed suit.

Fancy came alongside Fine as they passed several large chests. “What’s to stop the changelings that went the other directions from escaping?”

“I am not concerned about them escaping,” Fine replied. “My only priority is finding and saving Celestia.”

“And what if she’s in one of the other directions,” Fancy pressed. “They could sneak her away while we’re going in the wrong direction.”

Fine shook his head. “It’s far too late for that. They’ve captured Celestia for the explicit purpose of re-engineering her into a changeling.”

The very idea twisted Fancy’s guts, but Fine didn’t pause at his sharp intake of breath.

“Fleur and I learned that the changeling queen isn’t directly involved in this mission. The workers can still make the pods that do the deed, but it takes them far longer and a lot more energy to do so. Celestia may already be in a pod, and if not they’ll be very close to completing it. They’re not going to abandon all that hard work by breaking the pod and moving her.”

At first, Fancy focused on trying to take all this information in, but then he noticed something odd. “How do you know so much about changelings?”

“I have my sources.” As they turned the corner, Fine let out a small curse. “That makes things a bit harder.” They were just in time to see the changelings pulling a massive iron door closed with a resounding bang. The thing was almost the same width and height as the hallway itself.

Fancy trotted up to the door and focused his magic, trying to detect any magical sources beyond the door. He could sense something thick in the way and realized that the door possessed anti-magic enchantments. He redoubled his efforts, sweat beading on his brow as he struggled to feel anything beyond the iron. Celestia was the most powerful pony in the world, surely these walls couldn’t contain that high a magical signature…

He felt it, a tiny shadow of magical essence. Though he could only graze it, there was a distinct calmness to it, like the surface of a pool.

“She’s in there.” Fine shot him a quizzical look, to which he replied, “I’ve been in almost direct contact with the princess’s magic. I know what her aura is like.”

Fine nodded, but maintained his frown. “Wonderful, now we’ll just have to figure out how to get past three inches of anti-magic, reinforced iron.”

Fancy sat and shook his head. “I have no idea how we’re going to pull that off. This looks…” His voice trailed off as Fine approached the door, noting the intent look on his face. “What?”

Tracing the edge of the door with his hoof, Fine glanced back at him. “The door swings out. Critical mistake.”

An examination of the door revealed nothing to Fancy. “I fail to see how that improves our situation.”

“Watch and learn.” Fine stepped back, his horn shining red. “And see if you can’t prepare a pulling spell or something.”

Fancy glanced back at the soldiers. All he got in return were shrugs and confused expressions. He sighed, turned his attention back to the door and considered the situation. The door itself couldn’t be pulled by magic, not with those anti-magic enchantments. There wasn’t anything else to grab…

A red beam shot from Fine’s horn, striking and holding on the lower hinge of the door. It took nearly a minute, but the metal eventually began to glow red with heat. Once the entire hinge was glowing, Fine summoned an aural sword of his own and sliced at the bright metal. The hinge snapped easily. He promptly began work on the next one.

Ah, so that was his game. Fancy had to admit, he probably never would have thought of it. Even so, the door was still huge and would require a lot of work to pull open, especially with the changelings trying to hold it closed. Getting in still wouldn’t be easy. How were they supposed to…

An idea hit Fancy, and he turned to the pegasi. “I need everypony to go back around the corner.”

The soldiers obeyed without hesitation, and Fancy followed them to their destination. Stepping around the edge of the wall, he focused his magic until a thick shield appeared, covering the entire hallway. To him it shimmered, but to the pegasi it would be barely discernible. That done, Fancy stepped out and looked to see Fine working on the last hinge.

Seconds passed, but at last the hinge was broken and Fine came trotting through the hall. “I take it you have a plan?”

“Indeed I do,” Fancy replied with a smug smile. “I may need you to add your magic to the spell, though.”

“Can do.” They retreated around the corner and past the magical barrier. Fancy then focused on creating a small pocket in the barrier in one corner. With some careful telekinetic manipulation, he began pumping air out of the hallway beyond the barrier.

Seconds passed, the air hissing as it continued to blow past them. The shield flickered, and Fancy began to focus on reinforcing it. More air, more flickering, more reinforcement. The air’s sound changed pitch, and then went silent. Still Fancy worked the magical pump. Time continued to flow, and Fancy began to have difficulty maintaining the two spells. At a signal, Fine joined his magic to Fancy’s. He couldn’t work the magical pump very well, so he just focused on reinforcing the shield.

Fine glanced towards him. “Alright, I’ll admit it: this is pretty clever. But you do realize that if we don’t correct the air pressure fast we’ll kill everypony in there, right?”

Fancy paused the pump just as a loud, spine-tingling creak came from the vault door. His ears folded against his head. “I didn’t think about that.”

One of the pegasi spoke up. “And we’re worried about that… why?”

With a roll of his eyes, Fine replied, “Because Celestia’s in there?”

The soldier had the common sense to not say anything else.

Fine pointed at the magical pump. “You’ll need to reverse that quickly, but not too fast; we don’t want to cause the same problem in reverse.”

“I think I can manage that,” Fancy said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Getting the speed right, though…” The sound of the metal door pushing through its frame hit their ears once more. “No time to think about it.”

Fancy hastily prepared the magic, his heart hammering. He couldn’t imagine the shame he’d feel if he ended up killing Celestia in the process of trying to save her!

A resounding clang signified the door’s failure just as he managed to reverse the pump. He held his breath and promptly began pushing air back into the hall, struggling to keep the air from rushing back in as it so eagerly wanted. Why did it seem so much harder going in the opposite direction?

Sweat dripped into his eye.

Oh, that was why.

Not a sound came from around the corner. Fancy could only assume that the changelings were unconscious or otherwise busy. Being in a chamber with no oxygen had that effect on things, or so he imagined.

By the time he had the air pressure built back to safe levels, sweat was streaming down his face and flanks. He signaled with his hoof, and together he and Fine promptly released the barrier and let the air flow back into the area naturally. The resulting wind blew their manes about and felt incredibly good to Fancy’s worn body. They rounded the corner, pegasi following.

Fancy came to an abrupt stop, his eyes wide at the sight before him. The door lay on the ground, bent and twisted from the excessive vacuum pressure. The changelings were scattered about the hallway, apparently having been pulled through along with the door. All were unconscious.

“Those that survived might wake up soon.” Fine glanced back at the soldiers. “Keep an eye on them. If any of them wake up… they’re more valuable alive than dead.” Orders given, he trotted for the vault, Fancy close behind and hoping Celestia fared better than the changelings had.

They entered the room, which was covered in a black muck from floor to ceiling that felt unpleasantly squishy and sticky underhoof. Small pods provided a dim purple glow, revealing two more doors that both appeared slightly bowed thanks to the vacuum pressure. What really caught Fancy’s attention, however, were the two large, oval pods against the back wall.

Fancy hurried to the larger one and was just able to make out a pony-like form within. Breath caught in his throat, he promptly fired a laser at one corner of the thick green membrane, ignoring the mild headache the act produced. To his relief, he was able to cut through easily, and slowly sliced down along the side of the pod. Fine joined him, targeting the opposite side, and soon a green liquid began leaking from within.

Fancy caught the edge with his magic and ripped the membrane away, only to have a soaked and unconscious Celestia fall on top of him. Her surprising heft knocked him to the floor, but he still managed to cushion her fall with his body. Ignoring the stench of bad eggs produced by the liquid, he hurried to set Celestia on her side and press his ear to her chest. Only when he felt her breathing did he relax.

He sat up and let out a long sigh, all the tension and fear draining from him in a single great wave of relief. “Thank the Goddess, we did it! She’s okay.”

Fine knelt beside her, inspecting the princess’s face. “The pod must have protected her from the vacuum. Good to know; her dying would look really bad on my record. Speaking of which…” He stood and went to the second pod, opening it with the same methods. After a few seconds a pegasus stallion fell free. Fine made no attempt to catch him, letting the pony fall on his side with a thud.

Fancy recognized the stallion as the one that had interrogated him right after the attack on Sueño. “Friend of yours?”

“About as close as I have,” Fine admitted, leaning down to check the stallion’s pulse. “Looks like he’s going to be fine, too.”

“Good.” Fancy turned his attention back to Celestia. He stared at her matted fur, the wild mane that hung limp and pink, her peaceful face. Even as a mess, she remained beautiful. He couldn’t help grinning at their success, and it took all his restraint not to grab her up in a hug. Not that she would have noticed, of course.

“We need to get her out of here,” Fine said. “I seriously doubt we’ve dealt with all the changelings in the castle.”

“Agreed.” Fancy stood and shook the nasty liquid off. “We’ll have to bring her back to Canterlot. Maybe she’ll be safer there.”

“I don’t know,” Fine admitted with a frown. “That would be—”

A rumbling sound reached their ears and the ground under their hooves shook. The stallions shared an alarmed look.

“What was that?” Fancy asked.

Fine’s lips dropped to a grim frown. “I think Estéril Pezuñas just got a very big visitor.”

Riding on Parjin’s claw was nothing at all like being carried by a pegasus, and Fleur’s stomach found the change to be disagreeable. Trying to close her eyes only made her feel worse, though, so she kept them open and focused on the castle. The pegasi flew in a wide formation, their eyes scanning the walls and defenses in search of the Lord of Estéril Pezuñas. Fleur knew he would be there; Sir Deeds was many things, but a coward wasn’t one of them.

Captain Feathers dropped in altitude to fly alongside Fluer. The filly had to resist staring at her bandaged… stumps. “Are you sure you can convince your uncle to help?”

Fleur swallowed the lump in her throat and hoped her voice sounded more confident than she felt. “If Fine says I can do it, then I can.”

Captain Feathers frowned but said nothing.

They were circling the East side of the castle when Fleur spotted him. Sir Deeds was on the battlements, eyes set to the south where Parjin had last been seen. The very sight of him made Fleur feel sore between her hind legs, and a small whimper slipped out of her. She prayed Fine knew what he was doing in giving her this task.

“There he is,” one of the pegasi called, and soon the squadron was descending rapidly. Fleur's stomach jumped and she had to suck in a sharp breath to keep from losing her lunch. They were just beginning to slow and level off, several of Daring Deeds’ guards turning to address the newcomers.

“You!”

Captain Feathers’ shout startled Fleur into missing her landing, and when the pegasus dropped her she fell flat on her barrel. She winced and looked up in time to see the Redwings enter a tight formation. They hovered over the startled ponies as Captain Feathers thrust a hoof at a unicorn who had the curious misfortune of being a mottled purple coloration. It struck Fleur as a particularly ugly coat.

The stallion stared with wide eyes at the squadron. “Captain Feathers? What in the name of Equestria are you doing here? And what happened to your legs?”

Sir Deeds rubbed the scar on his chest with a grim frown. “I want to know the same. Has Guardia del Este fallen?”

Captain Feathers’ growl reverberated through the air in a way that Fleur thought might match even Reddux’s for intimidation. “I’ll have you know we killed a dragon, no thanks to your sorry flank! You left us there to die, you twisted bastard!”

The purple stallion’s face shifted into something between astonishment and anger. “Y-you… you actually killed a…”

“Spear!” Captain Feathers turned and took the weapon proffered by one of her pegasi, then pointed it at the stallion. “Commander Dune, it’s time you ponied up. Show me your leg!”

Dune finally managed to settle on an expression: a deep scowl. “I don’t care what happened, you’re far too low in rank to go ordering me about, Captain.”

Captain Feathers didn’t flinch. “All I’m asking for is a drop of blood, Commander.”

Sir Deeds stepped forward, attempting to push the spear away. “We don’t have time for this! In case you missed it, there’s a dragon out there that could attack at any second. We have to—”

The mention of Parjin finally jolted Fleur into action. “The dragon is not a threat to you!”

All eyes turned to her – save those of Captain Feathers, who maintained a hawkish focus on the Commander. Fleur shrank under the attention.

“Fleur?” Sir Deeds gaped. “You… you came back?”

Struggling to summon her courage, Fleur nodded. “I had to warn you. Reddux has allied with the changelings! They’re here in Estéril Pezuñas, and they have the princess!”

Commander Dune’s lips curled up in a sneer. “We don’t have time for your silly fantasies, little filly.”

“Then put me at ease,” Captain Feathers snarled, once again thrusting her spear his way. “Let’s see the color of your blood, Commander.”

“What?” The Commander gawked at the spear tip. “You mean you actually believe this story? You think I am one of those freaks?”

Captain Feathers hovered a little closer, eyes narrowing. “Your assistant, Whinnie, was one.”

Sir Deeds had been unable to stop staring at Fleur – a fact that left a nasty sensation in her stomach – but he abruptly turned his attention to the two officers. He looked from the captain to the commander and back. “Was there really a changeling at Guardia del Este?”

“There’s no way,” Commander Dune snarled. “This is some crazy conspiracy. The Captain has been blaming me for her squadron’s weakness ever since she arrived at the fort!”

Captain Feathers snarled. “Then prove me wrong! What’s the matter, afraid to spill your own blood?”

“I am not going to entertain this any further,” the commander snapped, head held high. “Stand down, Captain, before I have you arrested.”

“Quiet, both of you.”

The both looked to Sir Deeds, who watched them with a hawkish expression. He turned to examine Fleur from over his shoulder, lips set in a dark frown. Fleur chewed her lip and struggled against the urge to bolt; why did he always seem so big?

Because he was. She trembled at the memory of his body pressed on hers.

At last he turned to the commander. “Do it, Dune.”

Commander Dune’s eyes were like saucers. “What? You’re seriously going to entertain—”

A vicious growl rose from Sir Deeds’ throat. “That wasn’t a suggestion, Commander.”

Commander Dune stared at him, then at the spear tip presented to him. He had a lost expression, as if he were trying to solve a complex puzzle. All eyes were locked on him as he hesitated. Captain Feathers’ muscles were taught; clearly she intended to strike in an instant if necessary. Fleur leaned forward, her breathing paused in quiet anticipation.

With a deep, resigned sigh, the commander at last raised his hoof for the spear. His movement was slow, cautious, as if he feared doing too much damage to himself. The hoof paused just before the blade.

A tense moment of silence filled the air. Not a soul moved.

The flash came, green and bright like a flare. Everypony jerked their heads away against the light, and by the time Fleur’s eyes refocused the commander was several yards away, fleeing at full gallop.

“Get him!” Sir Deeds waved his hooves wildly, face contorted with rage. “Don’t let him get away!”

In an instant, every Redwing and guard was galloping or flying after the commander. Fleur watched them go, a strange mixture of pride and anger filling her. Now there could be no question whether changelings were in Equestria. Now she needed only convince Sir Deeds…

She abruptly felt lightheaded as realization dawned upon her: she was alone with her uncle.

“You did well, Fleur.”

She turned, body sinking low to the ground as he approached. He possessed that charming, toothy smile he so often sported when they were alone, the same one that often invaded her nightmares. “U-Uncle, I… I only…”

He shushed her, standing tall and looking every bit as big as she recalled. “I’m very pleased. In light of this revelation, I might even be willing to forgive you for running away again, especially considering you came back on your own.”

She stepped back, but he moved forward, keeping the distance constant. Recalling why she had returned, Fleur fought with her trembling lips. “Uncle, the ch-changelings, they… th-they have Celestia. You n-need to—”

“Now now,” he whispered, taking another step. “It’s okay, my pretty little niece. Whatever is troubling you, I’ll take care of it.” She tried to step back, but winced and held still when his eyes narrowed. “Don’t do anything foalish, Fleur. For the first time in your life, you’ve proven helpful. You must work to maintain that. You want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

He was reaching for her. The sight of his hoof so close to her face sent chills down her spine, and she promptly tucked her tail between her legs. “P-please, Uncle, I… I only…”

His hoof slapped against her cheek, not enough to hurt but more than enough to send a message. “Already you forget your place. For a moment I thought you might be turning into a respectable filly.”

The impact jolted her, but not as much as his words. She stared up at him, jaw hanging loose as an image came to mind. No, not an image: two images.

Fancy, who treated her with kindness and care, who only wanted what was best for her even when he didn’t know what that was.

Fine, who saw in her something more than just a scared, useless filly.

“You’re horrible.”

Sir Deeds’ eyebrows rose. “What did you say?”

Fleur stood tall and glared. “You’re horrible. Keep away from me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare try to talk back to me, little—”

“Shut. Up.”

Fleur relished his startled expression. “All my life, you’ve treated me like trash. I am not some doll for you to play with in bed!” She stepped back from him, head held high. “You tell me to be a respectable filly? I am. I always have been! You’re the one that needs a lesson! I’ve found friends who will treat me with respect, who value me as a pony. I am never staying with you.”

Sir Deeds blinked, momentarily stunned, but then...

“Respect?” He stepped closer, face contorting into an ugly grimace. “You think you deserve respect? You’re nothing. You’re trash I picked up because your bucking parents were too stupid to make their own way, and you’re going to be just like them. You’ll never be anything more than my whore, which is exactly how it should be!”

Fleur’s horn flashed as he approached. “You pathetic wretch. I am—”

“Don’t pretend to have a spine!” He didn’t slow down. “We both know that this is nothing but a façade. If you know what’s good for you—”

Another spark, and Fleur cast the spell. The invisibility veil formed between them just as he was reaching for her, and Sir Deeds came to an abrupt stop. He blinked, gazing through her with a lost expression.

Fleur promptly turned around, hopped backwards and bucked, her hooves smacking into his startled face.

Sir Deeds shouted and sat back, hooves to his muzzle. He gaped at her with one eye. “Wha… What did you… Did you just…”

She turned to glare at him. “You will not touch me. If you ever so much as lay a hoof on me again, I swear to Celestia I will kill you.”

Seconds passed. He gaped at her, but she only stared back with cool anger. For the first time in her life, she felt like far more than just a scared filly. Fine expected her to be strong. Fancy wanted her to be happy. Right now, she knew exactly what she had to do to achieve both, and she made sure that this vile stallion knew it too.

The attack came so fast she didn’t even realize it was coming. She found herself lying on her side, head pounding and vision swimming. Sir Deeds loomed over her, his face a mask of bared teeth and fury. All Fleur’s bravado faded in an instant as she realized exactly the situation she’d put herself in.

“You little slut! When I’m done with you—”

An earth-shaking roar split the air. The two of them looked up just in time to see something huge and red flash overhead.

A stream of fire erupted through the castle.

Author's Note

Yes, you're seeing that right, I'm utilizing the reader's most hated foe: the cliffhanger. There was really no option; it was either this or have a freakishly long chapter, and I wanted to avoid that.

The vacuum pressure solution? Totally improvised at the last minute.

Reddux the Tyrant

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter XIX
Reddux the Tyrant

“Oh, come on!” Sir Deeds turned to watch as Reddux swooped over the ocean. “You mean there’s two of them?”

Fleur hardly noticed the dragon, for her eyes were set on her uncle. Her mean, perverted, ‘hero’ uncle. Her cheek throbbed, but the world had stopped spinning and her mind had cleared. She climbed to her hooves, unable to repress a small chuckle. The sound caught Sir Deeds’ attention, and she hit him with her best smirk.

“Of course Reddux would come here,” she said. “Fancy killed the black dragon at Guardia del Este. I killed Tialvis at Crater Lake. And you? You snuck up on a poor dragon while she slept, didn’t you?” Reddux made another pass, flames erupting from his throat and bathing the city. “Let’s see you live up to your name, Dragonslayer.”

Sir Deeds hesitated. “How… How do you know that I—”

“Because I listened in on the dragon’s conversation,” Fleur snapped. “That black dragon helping Reddux all this time? You killed his mate. None of this might have happened if you’d—”

“Don’t presume to lecture me, little filly!” Sir Deeds thrust his hoof over the burning city. “Look at it! Look at what fury your actions have wrought! You say you killed one of those dragons? Even with that fanciful claim, I must ask: why do you think Reddux has come?”

“He was going to come regardless.” Though Reddux’s roar shook her legs, Fleur managed to stand tall before her tormentor. “He’s here because he thinks we are worthless as a race. We are beneath him, so much so that he let the changelings have Celestia!”

Sir Deeds eyes widened. “Celestia?”

“We’re stopping the changelings,” Fleur continued, her tone cold. “I suggest you do what your job demands and try to stop him.” She pointed to Reddux’s flying form—

—then realized he was coming straight for them.

Fleur’s pulse quickened, her mouth went dry, her legs buckled. Reddux was approaching the castle at breathtaking speed. She wanted to flee, but her legs remained locked. She silently screamed for her body to respond, but still she remained rooted to the spot. Her eyes darted about for some solution, but all she knew was that the wall would soon be engulfed in dragonfire.

The sound of Reddux’s intake was like the death knell of eternity.

Fleur could only pray.

Gold replaced red. Reddux let out a roar, the flames of his breath spraying uselessly through the air as he reeled from the impact. Fleur gasped as Parjin retreated over the city, her breath finally coming back to her.

Reddux’s bellow shook the stones beneath her hooves. “You decrepit fool! I will end you, Elderwyrm!” The great red monster’s wings caught air and he flew in pursuit.

For a moment, Fleur relaxed, her breath normalizing and a hoof pressed to her chest. Then she looked to her side to find Sir Deeds there. They stared at one another, first with shared relief, then confusion.

Sir Deeds’ face twisted into an ugly grimace and he growled. Fleur jumped back just in time to avoid the hook. Hooves scrambling against the stones, she turned and fled, her pulse back to a hummingbird's pace. “What are you doing?!”

His hooves pounded the stones just behind her. “You won’t get away this time, you little bitch!”

She looked over her shoulder to find him charging her. “Are you insane? What about the dragon?”

He only let out a roar.

Fleur had always feared Sir Deeds. His look, his touch, his smile. He had hurt her before, sometimes badly. Yet as she looked into those unreasoning, furious eyes, she realized for the first time that he might actually kill her. She pushed everything she had into the run, her mind swimming and her ears ringing.

He was faster than her. She knew he was faster. He intended to kill her. She had to get away, had to hide, had to get help, had to—

The thought came in Fine’s voice: she had to stop panicking and think.

She had no offensive spells. She had no defensive spells! Her repertoire was too small, and Sir Deeds was getting horribly close!

No, think. Focus.

Sir Deeds was a soldier. She couldn’t fight him, she’d lose. No damaging spells, no strength, hardly anything resembling combat experience. What would Fine do in this situation?

He’d improvise.

Fleur acted as soon as the idea formed in her mind, turning sideways and letting herself drop. The landing was painful, but with any luck—

—Sir Deeds leapt over her, sliding to a stop a short distance away. “Did you really think I’d fall for something so amateur?”

She had hoped, but Fleur wasn’t finished. The spell was ready by the time he turned back to her, and the invisibility veil rose between them. Sir Deeds jerked back with a sneer. “I’m not falling for that twice.”

The second spell was no less tricky, but Fleur had the advantage of having devised it herself long ago. When she finished it, the distinct sound of her own hoofsteps echoed in her ears, gradually fading.

Sir Deeds’ ears perked and he growled. “You won’t get away that easily!”

Fleur turned and aimed her buck low as he charged for her. She kicked just as he approached the veil, striking his forelegs. She’d been going for his kneecaps, but her timing was off and she only struck his cannons. Fortunately, the action managed to trip him up.

Unfortunately, he fell right on top of her.

Fleur had no time to react; his weight slammed on her back with enough force to make her legs splay out and take her breath away. Something smacked the top of her head with a sickening sound, and her jaw impacted the hard stones. She could feel a warmth trickling between her eyes…

Sir Deeds screamed.

He began to rise, and as he did Fleur’s head was jerked up painfully. Her eyes crossed in an attempt to see the top of her horn, but her vision was obscured. She felt his hooves on her head, and grunted as he pushed her down. Fleur felt a surge of panic at the thought that he had her, but just as soon as it came the weight lifted.

Fleur scrambled away and turned to find her uncle sitting up and nursing his muzzle. Blood ran down his hooves and dripped from his mouth, and she understood immediately; her horn had pierced his lower jaw. She reacted on instinct, charging forward and delivering as strong an uppercut as she could muster. Sir Deeds howled and fell on his back, blood gushing from the open wound.

A voice in Fleur’s head screamed at her to take this opportunity and flee, but she shoved it back with a savage snarl. She leapt on top of him, kicking and punching and screaming. Every blow shook her body, every thrust of her hooves a moment of sweet revenge for every thrust taken from him in her short, miserable life. Her vision turned red as she put all her energy and strength into this delicious act of brutality.

Something erupted beside her, and flames licked at her coat. The noise made her ears ring, but it was the heat that snapped her out of it. She leapt away, body stinging and mind jumbled. She looked up to see red; Reddux smashed into the castle, sending stonework and masonry flying.

“No more delays, ponies! I will rip your castle apart and burn your city, and when I find your princess I will devour her!”

The flames on the wall died, but the city blazed. Fleur stared at the flames, heart pounding as the screams finally caught her ears. She had to—

Something smashed into her shoulder and she flew. The world blurred until she hit the ground shoulder-first, crying out from the impact. In the precious time it took her to clear her head, she found her uncle standing over her. His attempt at speech only brought more blood from his mouth, which dripped onto her side. His eyes, however, told her everything she needed to know about what he intended. He reared back, and Fleur barely managed to roll out from under him before his hooves slammed the stones.

They were by the side of the wall. Below them was an inferno, the flames battling the sun for brilliancy. The smoke began to waft over the wall as Fleur struggled to her hooves, Sir Deeds bearing down on her like a buffalo berserker. Fleur was in a lot of pain, but she could still think.

That was far more than Sir Deeds could manage.

Fleur jumped sideways just as Sir Deeds tried to ram her, clumsily delivering a buck as she did. Her blow didn’t do much, but it was enough to make him stumble sideways, and his shoulder smacked into one of the crenellations. His body shook from the impact and he stumbled back with a groan, but Fleur gave him no time to rest; she leapt up, caught his head and slammed it chin-first against the parapet. He screamed and swung a leg, his elbow catching her in the chest and knocking her on her back.

Crawling backwards, Fleur watched as Sir Deeds stumbled about, blood pouring even more profusely from his jaw. He moaned and kept touching the wound, his eyes wide and tears running down his cheeks. Then his gaze fell upon her and he approached, stumbling and keeping his jaw clenched.

“Keep away from me!”

A shadow passed overhead, Reddux darting by with a bellow, but neither Fleur nor Sir Deeds paid him any attention. Their eyes remained locked, Fleur’s heart pounding and her breath coming in gasps. The old bastard just wouldn’t stop! She could feel the heat at her back; she’d reached the opposite side of the wall. There was no battlement here to protect her from falling. She froze, caught between the fire below and the madpony before her.

His eyes glistened with pain and rage. Blood made an ugly trail as he walked. The orange haze of the flames and smoke gave him a fierce appearance as he braced, ready for the attack.

Sir Deeds opened his mouth wide, blood dripping from his lips and coloring his teeth red. A hideous, gurgling scream erupted from his bloodstained throat. Smoke swirled about his body as he lunged.

Fleur did the only thing she could think of: she pulled her legs in and kicked. It was a sloppy defense, made all the worse by her unprepared position on her back. Even so, her legs managed to connect with his chest. It amounted to little; Sir Deeds kept coming, pressing her hind legs back against her chest as he reached for her throat. Fleur’s body rolled backward from his weight…

…and they both flipped over the wall’s edge.

Fleur’s legs caught the corner.

Sir Deeds caught her tail.

She clutched at the wall, his vastly superior heft dragging her down. Fleur could hear him screaming through clamped teeth. The hideously familiar scent of burning flesh assaulted her nostrils, making her stomach churn. Despite all that her brain told her, Fleur made the worst possible decision: she looked down.

The flames were licking up Sir Deeds flanks; the back half of his body was already burning. His teeth were clamped on her tail in a death-grip, his forehooves wrapped about her hind legs. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but his eyes were set upon hers. They told her only one thing: he had no intention of letting go.

The heat seared, the smoke burned her eyes, her hold on the wall deteriorated rapidly. Fleur screamed and kicked with all her might, but the bastard refused to release her. The familiar agony of being too close to the flames pierced her brain. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything save scream and wish she could be anywhere else.

Just as her grip failed, something slammed into her back. Fleur felt legs wrapping around her chest and she began to rise from the wall. She looked up to see an orange face. “Captain!”

Captain Feathers’ face contorted in a grimace as she struggled to lift both Fleur and Sir Deeds. “I… can’t… keep this… up...”

Heart pounding, Fleur looked down to find Sir Deeds still holding on. She squirmed and kicked, to no avail. “Let go! Let go of me, you bastard!” He merely screamed through her tail, the flames rising up his charred body. She could feel them licking her hind legs.

Which were higher than the wall.

“Forward!” Fleur looked up at Oak, whose eyes were closed from effort. “Captain, fly forward!”

She did so, Fleur’s hooves just grazing the stonework.

“Down!”

Her hooves landed on firm ground, and the captain promptly collapsed to the ground beside her, gasping and heaving. Fleur had to lock her legs to keep from sliding back from her uncle’s weight. He still wouldn’t let go, but Fleur was more concerned about not being dragged over again. Sucking down slow, long gasps, she took a step. Then another. Then another. Gradually, teeth grinding, she pulled her wretched uncle from over the fiery edge.

At last the weight faded. He fell off of her and shrieked, rolling on the ground. Fleur grabbed Captain Feathers, still recovering, and dragged her away as the stallion slapped at the flames. She could only watch in silent horror, her mind reeling from his screams. Finally the flames ceased, and he collapsed onto his barrel and sobbed.

After a few timid seconds, Fleur approached. Up close, the sight was even worse than she’d imagined, his skin eaten away to show blackened muscle beneath his chest. The smell of burnt flesh tore at her senses, making her sway in place.

His voice rose, feeble and hoarse. “Kill… me…”

Fleur tore her eyes away from the burns to his face. His cheek resting on the stone, he stared at something far off, breathing coming in slow rasps. “It hurts. P-please… it hurts so much.”

Fleur closed her eyes. She thought of all the nights she spent trembling in bed, waiting for him to come. She felt every touch of his hooves, recalled clenching her pillow in her teeth, the slap of his hips against hers. Her cheeks were warmed by tears that dripped from her chin.

“F-Fleur… please.”

“Seven years you tortured me, and now you dare to ask me for mercy?”

She glared down at him. Slowly, his eyes shifted to her. His breathing was little more than a hollow rasping. “P-please.”

Fleur examined his charred body, took in his ragged breathing, observed his begging eyes.

“I owe you no kindness.” She turned away. “I hope you live a long life, Sir Deeds. I’m going to leave you now, and I will never give you so much as a parting thought.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, hoping to channel all the hatred she’d been building over the years.

“I relish the fact that you’ll never stop thinking about me.”

The rumbling stopped, but Fine felt no relief. His companion, however, seemed to be faring far worse than he was. Fancy’s head whipped from Celestia’s unconscious form to the ceiling and back several times, his eyes wide.

“Oh Goddess, Fleur’s still up there! And Oak, too.” Fancy turned for the door, but came to a jerking stop and turned back to Celestia. “But… we can’t leave…”

Fine facehooved. “Would you please calm down?”

“Calm down?! The city is under attack by a dragon and you want me to calm down?!”

“We don’t know the city is being attacked by a dragon.” Although Fine had to admit it seemed very likely. “Now is the time for action, not panic.”

Fancy threw up his hooves. “Then what do you think we should do, Mr. Nerves-of-Steel?”

Indeed, what? Fine sat, ignoring the sickening feeling of the black gunk on his rump, and tried to think. He glanced at Celestia, but dismissed the idea of trying to wake her; though she looked okay on the outside, she was probably still lost in her recovery sleep. She would wake up in her own time, and no sooner.

“Our first priority is to get Celestia somewhere safe.”

Fancy considered this, then shook his head. “She’s better off here. We’ve got the Redwings with us, they can keep watch over her until Reddux is gone.”

Fine shook his head. “Reddux has a sore spot for Celestia, and he believes she’s here. He won’t stop until he finds her, even if he has to tear this castle down brick by brick, and there’s no guarantee we can stop him. Besides,” he gestured to the gunk at their hooves, “when there are changelings involved, there’s too high a risk. There’s nothing to stop them from impersonating one of your precious pegasi. No, we’ve got to get Celestia out of here.”

Fancy’s face twisted in a display of indecision. “But… but Fleur and Oak…”

“Oak’s a soldier, she knows the risk. And as for Fleur…” Fine smirked. “She’s far more capable than you know. Celestia, on the other hoof, is helpless.”

“We can’t just leave them!” Fancy stomped for emphasis, but the effect was ruined by the squelch his hoof made and the disgusted grimace it brought to his face.

“I didn’t say we were going to.” Fine turned to Hoofknife, who remained unconscious on the floor. He turned the pony over onto his back and slapped his face a few times. “Come on, ya bastard, snap out of it! I know it’s your dream to sleep at the princess’s side and all, but now is not the time for a honeymoon.”

Hoofknife groaned and waved Fine off. “What the—” He yawned and sat up, a hoof going to his side. He grimaced in pain. “Couldn’t you have handled that with a little more grace?”

Fine studied his face with a peering gaze. “How do you feel? Normal? No deep-rooted urges to feast on my emotions?”

“What the hay are talking about? You make me sound like a—” Hoofknife finally got a look at his surroundings, and his eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Great, he’s awake.” Fancy trotted in place as the vault abruptly resumed shaking. “Can we get the hay out of here now?”

“We can try.” Fine turned to him and pointed at Celestia. “You and my friend are going to carry Celestia out of here, with the RedWings as escorts. Try to take a subtle route Reddux might not notice.”

“Celestia?” Hoofknife climbed to his hooves and limped towards her. “Thank the Goddess, she’s okay!”

Fancy looked to Celestia, then back to Fine. “What about Fleur and Oak?”

Fine tapped the knife at his throat so it swayed. “You let me worry about them.”

“But… but I…”

With a groan, Fine set a hoof to the Fancy’s shoulder. “Listen, I know you’re worried about them, but you’re a soldier of Equestria and Celestia is your first duty. I kept Fleur alive all this time. Please, trust me to do so now.”

Fancy stared at him, then looked to Celestia. Hoofknife sat beside her, watching the exchange with a hard expression. After a few seconds, Fancy set his jaw and nodded. He looked Fine in the eye. “If anything happens to either of them, I’m holding you responsible.”

“Good, ‘cause you should.” Fine turned to his boss. “And you?”

Hoofknife nodded. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what’s going on. Go do your thing. I can take it from here.”

“Good. Try not to get too grabby, I’m sure Celestia wouldn’t approve.” Fine tapped Fancy’s shoulder as he hurried past. “That goes for you too, soldier.”

“Fine!” Fine didn’t bother to stop, and Fancy called after him, “Good luck!”

He ignored the questioning looks of the soldiers, running at full gallop through the dark hallway. He knew what he had to do, yet there was also what he wanted. The second part disturbed him, for what he wanted should have no place in this situation. Yet it remained lodged in his head regardless: Fleur had to survive.

The idea was stupid. He’d known all along that she might not make it. His priority was and had always been the wellbeing of Equestria. One foalish teenager – a teenager who choose to accept the risks of associating with him – should be the least of his concerns. They were expendable in the face of the greater good. He knew this. He believed this.

The words came unbidden in a fierce whisper.

“Damn it.”

He burst out of the hidden vaults and into the dungeon.

“Damn it. Damn it.”

His voice got louder as the world shook violently, an image of Fleur crying in her sleep filling his vision.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

He flew up the stairs, nearly slamming into the wall as he made the turn for the courtyard.

“Celestia damn it!”

He saw Fleur standing before him, casting the invisibility veil for the first time. Something unfamiliar welled within him, something he never imagined would ever grace his mind. Something terrifying.

Pride.

Goddess damn it!”

He slammed through the castle door and fell on his side in the dried grass of the courtyard. He was instantly assaulted by an intense heat, and upon looking up he saw nothing but flames. He jumped to his hooves, swearing and stepped away from the fire. His head whipped about in search of an exit, but his vision was hindered by the intense brightness of the sun.

At last his eyes adjusted. His vision settled on the nearby wall, and the spell came to mind instantly. Smoke roiled over him, and a moment later he was atop the wall. He turned to face the city.

Estéril Pezuñas was an inferno. Screams filled the air, smoke steadily rising like villainous black tendrils eager to blot out the sun. Already, the heat had sweat beading on Fine’s brow and flanks. His eyes swam over the destruction in a slow, hard gaze. There, on the east side of the city, lay a massive golden hill that Fine could only assume was Parjin.

Fine hardened his heart and pushed the screams from his mind. The city might be lost, but he still had a job to do… and, against his better judgment, a filly to protect.

The castle shook as something crashed into the tower behind him. Fine spun about to see Reddux ripping apart the stonework, his massive claws easily shattering the heavy masonry. Pegasi flew circles around him, their spears and crossbows useless. Every now and then Reddux would swipe them away like flies, but otherwise he paid them no mind at all.

“Where is she, little ponies? Where is your princess?” Reddux sucked down a deep breath and blew fire straight into the large hole he’d formed, and the tower erupted in flames. Fine watched in grim silence as fire-engulfed ponies leapt shrieking from the windows.

He had to find Fleur. He looked around the castle, heart hammering against his ribs. Where? Where the buck had she gone? The smoke was rolling over the walls and covering everything. He needed…

He cast the spell again; it came naturally now. He ended up on a balcony of the keep, high enough that he could scan most of the castle. He peered through the smoke, ignoring the bellow of Reddux and the combined cries of dying ponies. The walls were littered with bodies. “Come on, come on…”

He spotted something promising on the eastern wall, three ponies who appeared to be on their own. It was hard to tell through the smoke, but he thought he could make out their colors. With nothing better to go on, he cast his spell once more.

Smoke choked his vision and left him coughing. Fine waved his hoof before his face, knowing it was a pointless endeavor. He held his breath and took stock of his position. He was just able to make out a form, and trotted for it. It was Sir Deeds, over half his body burned beyond recognition. Fine didn’t so much as spar him a second glance; if the bastard survived that, it would be nothing short of a miracle.

There, two shapes in the distance. Fine hurried for them, sucking in air the moment he was out of the smoke. When he saw that familiar filly, he felt a wave of something new run through him. Was that… joy? Over a foal?

Goddess, what had Fleur done to him?

“Fine!” Fleur limped towards him as fast as she could, her dirtied face startlingly bright considering the circumstances.

She wrapped him in a hug, which he returned with uncertain legs. “H-hey, little miss. Good to see you’re okay.” Well, so to speak; her hind legs were red as if they’d been burned, her cheek was swollen and blood covered her face and side. At least he was reasonably sure it wasn’t her blood.

“You too.” She stepped back and grinned, a ghastly image. “I survived, Fine. I stood up to him, and I… I survived!”

Fine didn’t know why he felt so… happy. He didn’t understand, and at the moment he didn’t care. “You did good, Fleur. Really good.”

She stared at him, her smile lost. “Fine… are you okay?”

He blinked and realized he had a grin on his face. He shook his head and coughed. “Y-yeah, I’m alright. There’s no time to—”

A shadow passed over them, Reddux’s roar making his point for him.

Fleur trembled as they watched the dragon land within the city, sending timber and ponies flying. “What do we do?”

Fine looked to her, then back to the city. “Estéril Pezuñas is lost. Everypony needs to get out, if they can.”

Captain Feathers appeared at his side, hovering just above the ground and covering her muzzle against the smoke. “What about Celestia?”

So, she wasn’t incapacitated as he’d first thought. “Fancy Pants and the Redwings are working to get her out of the castle as we speak. She’s safe, Captain.”

She sagged with a deep sigh. “Good. If there’s anypony I trust to watch after Celestia, it’s Fancy.”

Fleur nudged Fine’s shoulder. “How are we supposed to get out?”

“Flying, of course.”

“No way.” Oak shook her head. “There’s no way I can carry both of you out of here at once, you're too heavy together.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Fine grabbed Fleur and pulled her towards the captain. “Take Fleur. I can handle myself.”

“What?” Fleur spun about and grabbed his hoof. “You can’t! Fine, I’m not going without you.”

“You have to.” Fine turned to the city, Reddux’s hideous laughter filling their ears. “I’ll distract him while everypony flees.”

Captain Feathers turned to him with piercing eyes. “How the hay do you expect a single pony to distract that?”

Fleur nodded emphatically. “He’ll kill you!”

He jerked his hoof away. “Maybe he will. This is my job, Fleur, and it could kill me at any time. I’ve always known that. It’s a risk I’ve long been willing to accept.”

“Well I’m not willing to accept it!” She hugged him, pressing her cheek to his chest. “Please, Fine, you can’t do this!”

He stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words. His gaze went to Captain Feathers, but she merely watched with a harsh gaze. “I… but…” He groaned and hugged the filly. “This is why I never wanted an apprentice.” He patted her head and managed a smile. “I suppose I have an incentive to not die for once.”

She looked up at him, eyes bright. “So you’ll come?”

He shook his head and looked out over the flames of the city. “No, Fleur, I still have to do this. But I can promise you this: I am not going to die.”

Fleur’s lip trembled, a tear smearing the dirt on her cheek. “Don’t m-make promises you can’t keep.”

“Words to live by.” He pushed her away and looked to the captain. “Go. Take her while you still can.”

Oak nodded and grabbed Fleur before she had a chance to escape. “Good luck, pal. You’re gonna need it.”

“No, Fine!” Fleur reached for him even as she was swept away. “Damn it, I can’t lose you too! Let go of me! Fine!”

Fine watched until they were lost in the smoke, a small smile on his lips. He offered a silent thanks. She would go far, with or without him. Preferably with; for the first time since he was a foal, he had something other than duty to guide his hoof. He said he wouldn’t die, and he had every intention of making that happen.

But he still had a job to do… even if he had no idea how to do it.

He turned to the castle, looking for a suitable place to start. The battlements atop the keep seemed like a good spot, so he focused on the spell. A few clouds of smoke later and he was there, with a pristine view of the horror below. By now the smoke choked out the sunlight, casting the world in a dim haze, but still Reddux was visible below, his claws ripping through the city with foalish abandon.

Fine’s breathing came in small gasps. Was he really going to do this? Fleur was right, that monster would kill him in an instant.

No. He shook his head and stood tall. Reddux needed to be stopped, or at least distracted. Maybe this was foalishness, but he could do it. Every second he kept Reddux focused on him was another second for ponies to escape the carnage. He’d sworn an oath to protect Equestria no matter the cost. He’d live by those words. He would die by them if necessary.

For Fleur’s sake, he prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

Now… how to get the big, maniacal, bloodthirsty dragon to focus all that rage his way? Fine knew of one way. He focused on the spell. It was a very simple one, but he’d never used it at range before. No matter, it would work, he just needed to apply a little extra effort. His horn shined dimly in the haze and he licked his parched lips. This was it. Ignore the buckling of his hooves and just say the words…

“I killed Tialvis.”

It was little more than a whisper. Even so, Reddux’s head snapped towards the castle. “Who said that? Show yourself, little liar!”

Fine obliged, his horn shining brightly. Reddux’s gaze, clear even from this distance, met his. “It’s no lie. I made Crater Lake her tomb.”

The dragon reared up on his hind legs, towering over the blazing city. Smoke roiled off his scales and sparks flickered amongst his fangs. His voice boomed across the skies. “You? You are but a little morsel, ready for tasting.”

Despite how his stomach churned, Fine managed a smirk. “And you are naught but a little hatchling, throwing a temper tantrum because momma Voice said something you didn’t like.”

Reddux bared his fangs, smoke erupting from his nostrils. He approached, taking slow steps that crushed entire buildings. He slunk low, like a predator preparing for the strike. “And who are you to mock me, little morsel? The Dragonslayer, perhaps?”

“Oh, no, he’s dead already.” Or would be soon. “I am a new threat.”

“A threat?” Reddux’s laughter shook the stones beneath Fine’s hooves. “You, a threat?” He continued his approach, ignorant of the destruction left in the wake of his mere passing. “And with what will you threaten me? There is no lake for you to dump upon my skull this time.”

Indeed, with what? Fine faltered, his eyes set on Reddux’s twisted, leering gaze. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.” Or not. Had Celestia been evacuated yet? He had no way to know. Damn him for not thinking that part out a little more!

Reddux reached the outer wall of the castle. His eyes never left Fine as he raised both arms and smashed them into the stone between each word. “I. Am. Reddux!” A final push saw the wall crumble before him, and he stepped through without so much as looking down. “I brought low your puny princess, whose horn I will keep as a toothpick after I’ve rent her charred flesh from her bones. All of Equestria shall burn by my breath.” He reared up, head towering over Fine as he spread his arms and wings wide over the carnage below.

“Behold, and taste the first savory sweetness of my power! What can you, a mere unicorn, do to a god such as me?”

Fine’s mind had been running rampant throughout the monster’s monologue. To his horror, he had absolutely nothing to offer. Now might be the appropriate time to run… except he still didn’t know if Fancy had pulled Celestia out of the castle! And now Fine had gone and lured Reddux right to the castle, which he would certainly destroy the moment Fine disappeared.

Crap, he’d really not thought this through! Here he was, a tiny pony standing alone again—

The fact hit Fine like a sledgehammer: he was alone. No pegasus soldiers circled Reddux, no unicorns were firing spells at him, no Earth ponies were mustering. The city was in chaos, the defenses had shattered. No help was coming.

Suddenly, as he took in this demonic thing standing tall amidst the fire and smoke and heat, Fine felt so very small.

Reddux grinned and raised a lone claw, leisurely moving it forward. “Nothing to say, little morsel? Where has your bravado gone?”

The claw dropped like a hammer. Fine’s instincts kicked in and he dodged, the talons smashing and crushing the stonework where he’d been standing half a second ago. The aural sword came unbidden and slashed, even as Fine told himself it was pointless. The magical weapon shattered against Reddux’s scaled claws, and the dragon only laughed.

A single finger, as thick as Fine was tall, snapped outwards. It hit Fine with all the force of a brick wall. He flew over the edge of the parapet and dropped, too dazed to think of anything save that he was going to die. Funny, he’d always thought the sea would be what ended him.

He landed on hard scales. Fine felt the air rush around him and knew he had been caught by Reddux’s free claw. He groaned, entire body throbbing, and closed his eyes.

“You amuse me, pony.” Reddux’s voice rang in his eardrums. “I think I will let you watch. Your distraction will bother me no more.”

He knew.

Sweet Goddess, he’d figured it out!

Fine’s eyes flicked open, but the world still swam. “Y-you haven’t beaten me yet.”

“Is that so?” Reddux’s face was mere feet away, huge and terrible and grinning. “I suppose I could pull one of your legs off, just to savor your screams. Or perhaps you have some heroic, last minute plan before you become a martyr?”

Fine tried to stand, but Reddux shook his claw. The motion proved more than enough to send Fine to his side, sending a hideous, jarring pain through his chest. He gritted his teeth and looked down, trying to find some kind of purchase—

The knife. The one thing about his past he’d refused to let go of, hanging from his throat like a hideous trophy. It was black, it was innocuous, it was useless against a dragon’s scales. How fittingly ironic that it might be his salvation.

“I do have one weapon.” Fine looked upon Reddux with all the conviction he could muster. “I have a means to kill you, tyrant.”

Reddux’s grin broadened. “Still trying to distract? Very well, but this is your last chance. Amuse me, or I’ll crush your puny little body.”

Fine stood, ignoring the pain running through his body. He felt something shift; it was like a knife had run through his chest. It could only be a broken rib. No matter; broken bones were the least of his concerns. He managed with some effort to stand tall. The knife rose in his red glow, and he displayed it to his foe.

“That?” Reddux’s smile faded. “I thought you would be more original.”

Fine managed a smile even as another stab ran through him. “Oh, trust me, Reddux: you’ve never seen a weapon like this.”

“Big words.” Reddux turned on the spot and raised his claw high, giving Fine a stunning view of the hell below. “Gaze upon your city, Dragonslayer! Know that this is the fate of all Equestria should you fail!”

Fine did indeed look. The city had been reduced to carnage, the flames covering everything in smoke and heat. Screams still rose from the streets, piercing his ears even at this dizzying height. For just a moment, Fine imagined an entire country reduced to ashes. Canterlot, Manehattan, Seaddle…

Los Pegasus. The image of that city set aflame stung him almost as badly as his broken rib.

Reddux lowered his claw so that Fine was close to his glistening fangs. “And now that you understand the stakes, little morsel, why don’t you show me what is so special about that puny weapon?”

Fine glanced at the blade hovering at his throat. It was short, it was black, it was sharp. It had once been the horn of a unicorn, taken by an old mare as a trophy, and taken by him as a reminder of what he was. And as much as he hated it… right now it was the most important thing in his existence.

“I don’t have to tell you, Reddux,” he snarled, horn flaring. “I will have you feel it!”

“Then have me feel it!” Reddux stretched out his arm and puffed out his chest, that smug grin never leaving his lips. “Show me what your almighty weapon can do!”

“With pleasure.”

The glow of Fine’s horn intensified, then disappeared in a flash. Clouds roiled around the knife…

And it was gone.

Reddux cocked his head. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

Fine leveled the dragon with a cold glare. “No, Reddux: you’re supposed to hurt.”

His horn flashed, and Reddux’s eyes widened. He doubled over, nearly dropping Fine as his free claw clutched at his midsection. “W-what is this?”

Fine’s horn continued to glow. “For every pony you’ve ever hurt.”

Reddux gasped.

“For every lie you ever told.”

He let out a bellow and leaned forward, clutching at his chest. Fine stumbled.

“For daring to threaten the lives of unborn hatchlings!”

Reddux tried to speak, but only managed a hideous rasp. He clutched his throat.

“For a princess I don’t even like.”

The dragon reeled, tried to suck in a deep breath and could only hack.

“For Equestria, you will die!”

Reddux dropped to his knees, and in so doing dropped Fine. It was a short fall, but Fine still felt something snap when he hit the battlements atop the keep. He let out a hiss, the glow of his horn dying, and could only lay there.

Reddux’s shallow gasped reverberated in his eardrums. Slowly, Fine dragged himself towards the edge of the wall and, using his good leg, lifted himself up to the parapet. He gazed down to find Reddux leaning against the keep, clutching at his heaving chest with wide eyes. The dragon looked up and gaped. “Wha—” He coughed up blood. One of his arms tried to reach for Fine, but jerked back to his stomach as he hacked. His voice came out as a rasp. “W-what did you do?”

Fine’s horn glowed. “My job.”

Reddux squirmed, struggling and failing to suck down sharp breaths. His claws grabbed at his stomach, then his chest, rose up to his throat. Massive yellow eyes rolled back in his head as he wheezed and gurgled, blood now pouring out of his mouth.

Then, just like that, he went still, arms dropping to his sides and jaw hanging loose.

Blood spurted from one of his lifeless eyes as something burst out of it. It flew straight for Fine, encased in a red glow. The blade came to a gentle stop, hovering before Fine’s muzzle and coated in blood. He smiled and reached up to rub its dull side.

“H-hey, Sugarcube. Does that count as sixty-six?”

He collapsed, the blade clattering to the stones by his head.

Author's Note

I spent a long, long, long time thinking about how Fine would do it. When this finally came to me, I couldn't help but think it suited him perfectly.

As The Sun Sets

Reddux the Tyrant

Chapter XX
As The Sun Sets

A lifetime of viewing Canterlot Castle from the city had not prepared Fancy for actually being within its hallowed halls. As he kept pace behind two golden-armored guards, he craned his head back to take in the beautiful sights. Pearly walls, velvet rugs, lush paintings and tapestries, ornate stained glass windows… and that had been only the first hallway. Fancy had always thought the nobility was extravagant, but this place could school a stallion in the art of fine living.

He knew it was all for show. Celestia had no use for such a garish display – she regularly entreated the Royal Court to reduce the budgeting for such things, though her words often fell on deaf ears. Now that Fancy finally got to see more than the castle’s ball room, he finally understood her frustration. Even so… it felt nice to marvel.

The castle was cool despite the oppressive heat outside. Many of the lower floors had been refitted into temporary living quarters by Celestia’s secretary and steward, a safe haven from the heat for those citizens of the city unable to cool their own homes. Yet all that was about to change.

The guards led Fancy into a smaller hallway, for which he was relieved. The main passages felt so… gauche. Instead of rugs on hard stone, the floor here was covered in a thick, soft layer of red carpet. Gone were the tapestries and overbearing statues, replaced with simple pictures of families and ages long past. This area of the castle felt more personal, which was enough to inform Fancy that they’d moved into the residences.

That meant they were getting close. Fancy felt his heart flutter at the thought. He glanced around, hoping to find some sort of reflective surface to measure his appearance by, then blushed at his own foalishness. His mother had fussed over him aplenty before he’d left the house, he looked fine. He’d have to deal with her fussing for a long time yet.

And his father’s regular boasting of having a ‘dragonslayer’ for a son. The thought had Fancy’s teeth grinding.

The guards came to an abrupt stop, and Fine realized they were standing before a tall, but otherwise ordinary, door. He swallowed the lump in his throat and adjusted his tie. The knocking of the guard’s hoof on the door seemed to echo through the hallway like thunder.

The voice came as a whisper within his head. Enter. Quietly, if you please.

The guards stood aside and turned to Fancy, their legs snapping up in salute. He might have grimaced at them if his stomach hadn’t tied itself into some unpleasant knots. Horn shining, he pushed the door open and entered.

Celestia’s chambers weren’t as big as he’d anticipated, though they were still large. He found himself in a simple room covered in bookshelves and lush carpet, a tall fireplace standing between two windows that revealed just how high up he was in the palace. Two closed doors were present on either side of the room, making it clear that Fancy was only getting to see one small part of Celestia’s private residence.

His breath left him at the sight of the princess. She lay atop a couch, facing a fireplace, her head risen above the back and turned away. Even so, the sight of any small part of her filled him with joy; she was alive, and that meant everything was going to be okay.

Fancy. The whisper was in his head once more. Please, come where I can see you.

He took a long, calming breath, squared his shoulders and did as he was told, marching a wide circle around the couch. Once properly before Celestia, he turned and bowed low. “You wished to see me, Princess?”

“Quiet, now.”

Fancy looked up and blinked; a small, lavender filly was nestled against Celestia’s side, sleeping soundly. Celestia stared at the foal with a smile warmer than the sun. “My student wore herself out in her excitement. Let’s try not to wake her.”

“Of course.” Fancy couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Celestia watched the foal with a distinct brightness to her visage; it was quite the motherly expression. He had no intention of saying such out loud, though.

At last, the princess turned her attention to him. Her voice was soft, delicate, but somehow he was able to hear her clearly. “And please, Fancy, do not bow before me. If anything, I should be bowing before you.” She tipped her head forward.

Fancy’s cheeks burned as he averted his eyes. “Please, Princess, I was only doing my duty.”

Celestia’s smile never wavered. Her horn shined brightly, engulfing the filly in her golden glow and lifting her from the couch. Celestia then stood and turned for one of the closed doors. “Walk with me, Fancy.”

He cocked his head as she went on without him, then followed. “I’m glad to see you’re okay, Princess.”

“I apologize for worrying you so much.” The door opened seemingly of its own accord, and Fancy paused at the threshold. He stared at Celestia’s bedroom, uncertain if entering such a place would be considered proper. She’d said to follow, but…

“I’ll only be a moment.” Celestia approached her bed, gently depositing the filly under its blankets. “I just wanted to give Twilight a better place to sleep while we talk.”

Oh, good. Fancy sat and watched patiently as the princess tucked her student in, nuzzling her with a smile as the foal stirred. “Shush, go back to sleep. I promise I’ll still be here in the morning.” The foal-sized lump made no protest, going still under the covers. Satisfied, Celestia turned back to the door.

“The past few weeks have been hard for her,” Celestia said as she passed back into the lounge, the door closing behind her. “Twilight is a very smart little pony; she knew something was wrong as soon as the sun failed to set. They say she tried on four occasions to sneak out of the city to go looking for me, and nearly succeeded twice.”

Fancy stared at the door as Celestia passed. “How old is she?”

“Eight.”

He exhaled slowly. “You’re right, she’s a smart one. Err… Princess.”

Celestia giggled, the sound tickling his ears. She looked back over her shoulder. “No need for titles, my friend. To you I am only Celestia.”

His heart skipped a beat, and it took him a moment to realize he had a broad grin. Celestia said nothing more, only resumed her walk to the other door. He followed, feeling lighter than air.

The next room appeared to be a study, complete with a massive desk of cherry wood and a variety of decorations. Aside from the pictures, there were a number of strange articles; a doll on the corner of the desk, a broken pocketwatch hanging from a rusted coathanger, a black flower encased in crystal and a necklace in a small display case on the wall, just to name a few things. In the corner sat a stand were stood a gold and red phoenix, who watched Fancy with a curious gaze.

Celestia’s voice regained his attention. “Fancy, you have done Equestria a great service. I felt that you deserved a reward.”

He turned to find her opening the glass door to a broad balcony. “Princ… Celestia, that is hardly necessary. Knowing you’re safe is reward enough.”

She stepped onto the balcony and turned to give him that delightful smile. “If that were coming from most nobles, I’d assume it to be sycophancy, but I know you mean it.” She chuckled at his blush. “As flattered as I am by your devotion, Fancy, I think you deserve something more.”

He approached at her gesture, and once outside he felt the heat of the sun pressing down on him like a thick blanket. He glanced back at the cool rooms, but only for a moment; gazing out, he saw just how high they were. Canterlot seemed like little more than a toy model, and the hills and plains of Central Equestria dominated his sight.

He looked to find Celestia smiling down at him. “It’s quite the view.”

“Indeed it is,” she replied. She gazed out over the land, her horn shining brightly. “You once praised my sunrise. I hope seeing the first sunset in many weeks will be just as impressive.”

Fancy felt the air leave his lungs. He stepped back from the princess, eyes going wide as the glow of her horn grew ever brighter. Her eyes closed, her face slipping into a serene expression. Fancy turned to find the sun, after so many days of blistering heat, beginning its gradual descent to the horizon. His ears perked to the steadily rising cheers of an entire city. Gradually, the blue sky shifted to a brilliant orange.

The sun’s descent was slow, determined and measured. The sky above thus shifted its colors with equal grace, the powerful oranges gently fading to velvet and, with the last ray of sunlight winking out in the West, black. Fancy let the air escape his lungs, barely acknowledging the faint cheers from far below. He turned to Celestia, feeling just a little light. “That was beautiful.”

Celestia’s horn dimmed, and at last she opened her eyes. They shined brightly in the darkness. “I am glad you approve, but I’m not quite done.”

He blinked, noting how her horn was beginning to glow once again. He turned in time to see the full moon slowly rising over the horizon, accompanied by a plethora of stars. He stared at the glimmering jewels in silence, a calm smile on his lips. “Your night is pleasant, as well.”

Celestia said nothing. Fancy turned to find her staring at the moon with… was that longing? “Princess?”

A twitch of the face was all it took for her to regain her royal demeanor. “It is nothing.” She tilted her head his way with a smug smile. “And now, we need to discuss your reward.”

Fancy stared at her for a moment, processing her words. He blinked and looked between her and the horizon. “But… but I thought—”

Celestia laughed and turned to face him properly. “Come now, Fancy, every pony in Equestria saw me lower the sun. Did you really think that was to be your reward?”

To his frustration, his cheeks burned once more. He scuffed the ground and bowed his head. “It was important to me.”

“And I appreciate that.” Celestia lifted his chin with a hoof so he could gaze into her pink eyes. “But really, Fancy, look at what you’ve done. You survived Sueño, rescued a foal in the process, volunteered to go back into the fight, killed a dragon and saved not only my life, but my very soul. I do not think a mere sunset, no matter how beautiful, is enough for a hero such as yourself.”

He shuffled from hoof to hoof, unable to tear his gaze away. His heart pattered against his ribs. “I… uh… I didn’t do it all on my own, y’know.”

The princess chuckled and, mercifully, released him from her visual hold. “Does your modesty know no bounds?”

He stuttered and stared at his hooves, wishing his cheeks would cool down. “I didn’t do any of it to be a hero.”

“And that, Fancy, is just one part of why you are one.” Celestia stepped back and sat with a beaming smile. “I have already decided. You will no longer be Fancy Pants, but Sir Fancy Pants.”

His head jerked up, mouth agape. “You mean… I’m going to be…”

“Knighted, yes.” She nodded with a light giggle. “I haven’t had the honor of knighting a pony in… well, I’d have to check the records, but many centuries. We’ll perform the ceremony in a week’s time, which should be enough for all involved to learn the appropriate rituals.”

Fancy swallowed a fresh lump in his throat. “Princess, I—”

“Ah ah ah.” She waved her hoof before his muzzle. “Celestia.”

“C-Celestia… a knighthood? Really?”

“Yes, really.” She raised her hoof again, and he clamped his jaw closed. “Don’t bother telling me you don’t want or deserve it, my friend. Now is not the time for modesty; you have more than earned it. I’ll be expecting you to choose a home within the next few months.”

He reeled. “A home?”

She nodded eagerly. “But of course! A mandatory perk of being knighted is that you are gifted a new home, purchased or built entirely on the government’s bit, along with a parcel of land.”

Fancy fell to a sitting position, mouth agape.

Celestia reached forward and pushed his jaw closed with a smirk. “Best get used to it, my friend; in one week’s time you will officially be the most important pony in Canterlot.” She stepped back and raised her hoof high. “Oh, and I almost forgot that I’ll be bestowing you with the official title of Dragonslayer. I don’t particularly like that one, but Parjin and Sorahna insisted.”

“I… I…” Fancy shook his head forcefully, trying to clear his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Fancy.” Celestia’s smile grew warm, and that warmth extended into his body and brought out a smile of his own. “Know that I do this because ‘thank you’ isn’t near enough for everything you have done for Equestria, and me personally. It has been a very long time since I last met a pony so deserving. But, since we’re here, right now…”

She dropped into a deep bow.

“Thank you, Fancy. Thank you for saving my life.”

Fancy stared at her prostrate form, mind numb. It was all he could do; no air escaped his lungs to provide an answer. He felt at his chest, just to make sure his heart was still beating. When she at last stood up, he nearly collapsed from a lack of air.

Her eyes widened. “Fancy?”

He gasped, oxygen finally flowing into his lungs, and sagged with a giddy grin. “I think I can die and go to Elysium, now.”

Celestia laughed, a hoof to her forehead. “Stallions.”

Hoofknife stood before Celestia’s desk, expression grim. “Well, he seemed happy.”

Celestia set his unread report aside and smirked. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

He averted his gaze. “Maybe.”

Her smile faded in the face of his seriousness. “I appreciate your work too, Cavalier.”

“Bull.” He shot her a glare. “You hate the Archons.”

She frowned and steepled her forehooves on the desk. “I admit, I find your methods… unsavory, but you know I haven't any ill will towards you, or wish for your suffering.”

“But you’ll never appreciate us like you do your innocent little ponies.” He waved a dismissive hoof. “Can we move on? We’ve had this discussion enough times.”

She didn’t answer, only stared at him from over her hooves. There was no anger in her expression, but it still made him shift and glance away.

“Cavalier, I know that your devotion is on par with that of Fancy Pants.”

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled. “I’m Hoofknife now until the day I die.”

“But I could get along with Cavalier.”

He sighed and sat. “I know. I’m sorry, Celestia. I’ve devoted my life to the Archons, but far more to you. I know you find us a disreputable bunch, and I’ve mostly learned to live with it. And I know Fancy has earned all the praise he has been given.” He scuffed the carpet and refused to meet her gaze. “Yet even I have moments when I regret my decision to live in the shadows.”

Concern covered her expression. “You could always retire.”

“It’s too late for that,” he muttered. “Even if I did, I lost you the moment I agreed to this job.”

To this she had nothing to add.

A few seconds ticked by, which he spent trying to compose himself. “At any rate, I’m glad to see you’ve recovered.”

She studied him for a few seconds longer, but at last sighed and nodded. “As am I.” She leaned forward, expression neutral once more. “Fancy tells me that another pony helped him rescue me, but that pony has since disappeared. Do we know anything about him?”

Hoofknife’s lips curled up in a wry smile. “Oh, yes. He’s one of mine.”

Celestia’s eyebrows rose. “An Archon?”

“The Archon,” he replied. “He’s the best agent we’ve had in centuries, and I wish I could say it had anything to do with him being my apprentice. In a way, he’s more of a hero than Fancy; he helped in the defeat of Tialvis and the rescue of the dragon eggs at Crater Lake, thereby sealing the fate of Reddux’s efforts to goad the Hoards to war.”

Celestia sat back, eyes wide. “So he is the pony Parjin—”

His hoof shot up. “That’s not all! He is the pony Parjin spoke to you about, and he is therefore also responsible for bringing Fancy and the Redwings to Estéril Pezuñas on a rescue mission. Oh, and there’s one more small, teensy little thing he achieved.”

He waited until Celestia leaned forward, relishing her attention.

“He killed Reddux.”

Celestia blinked. “By himself?”

Hoofknife nodded.

She exhaled a long, slow breath and sat back, eyes wide. “That’s… incredible. I think I would like to meet this pony.”

At that, Hoofknife promptly sobered. “You will. As is traditional, he won’t know it until the time comes, but I decided long before these events to make him my heir.”

Celestia frowned. “I would have preferred to meet him now, but I suppose another twenty years or so will suffice.”

Hoofknife shifted, eyes going to the floor. “Actually… it’ll be more like five years.”

Quiet filled the study. He made no attempt to check for her reaction.

“Cavalier, what are you saying?”

He sighed and looked up. To his mild surprise, there was concern in her expression. The spot in his side itched. “What you didn’t know was that I tried to rescue you first and failed. I was injured and put in one of those pods.”

Celestia tilted her head. “I don’t understand.”

Hoofknife sat and averted his gaze once more. “The injury was small. If I’d seen a doctor right away, then maybe… Well, I ended up trapped in that pod for a few days without medical attention. The wound got infected.” He turned sideways and raised his foreleg so that she could see the fresh scar tissue. “By the time I got treated, the infection had spread to some pretty vital areas. They pulled the worst parts out with surgery, but the doctors tell me I’ve got five years at best.”

For some time, Celestia only stared. In a slow, steady motion, she lowered her face into her hooves and leaned against her desk. “Oh Goddess, Cavalier. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He lowered his leg and turned back to her, expression pained. “Death has always been an occupational hazard for an Archon. I only did what I had to.”

“Don’t play the ‘duty’ card,” she whispered from behind her hooves. “You did it for me, and now you’re going to die.”

He gazed at her, chest tight as he considered her words. He approached and reached over the desk, taking her hooves in his. He waited until she looked up.

“Yes, I am. And if I could go back, I’d do it all over again. Please, Celestia, don’t feel guilty about this. It was my decision all along.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I offered you this job.”

“Just as you have every Mane Archon over the centuries,” he said. “It’s not your fault, Celestia. You didn’t chose me to be the Mane Archon, you merely told me I’d been selected. That’s how it’s always been, and it’s how things will be when you have to inform my chosen successor. It was up to me to decide, and I chose to be your watchdog instead of… of what I could have been.

“So please.” He squeezed her hooves. “Please don’t blame this on yourself.”

She considered him for some time, their eyes locked. He could see the wetness within hers and gave her hoof another tight squeeze.

At last she sat up, a frail smile on her lips. “If I may be so bold, I think you chose very poorly.”

He gave her a smile of his own. “If I may speak freely, I wholeheartedly disagree.”

After a moment’s pause, Celestia shook herself and turned her face away. “Ahem… Well, back to… to business. You said your agent helped with the defeat of Tialvis. Care to explain?”

He stepped back, forcing his face into a neutral position. “Right. According to his report, Tialvis was killed by a third pony, a mere filly of fourteen.”

“Fourteen?” Still turned away, Celestia focused on rubbing her eyes. “You mean to tell me a filly killed a dragon? I’d love to hear this story.”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Hoofknife admitted, “but if my agent says it happened, I’ll believe it.”

“Interesting.” At last she turned to him, face calm and collected once more. “I’d like to meet her. What is her name?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… I can’t tell you.” At her raised eyebrow, he turned his face away. “Yeeeeah, about that.”

Fancy watched from within his carriage as the train pulled into Canterlot Station. He dearly wanted to get out and meet his guests in pony, but half-feared the roving eyes of the locals. He rather liked being the Most Important Pony in Canterlot, but it made going out in public… tricky. After three months of putting up with more attention than he’d had his entire life, he was prepared for a few days of private time.

He waited, tapping his hoof against the glass as ponies climbed out of the train and onto the platform. His servant remained steadfast by the stairs, and he knew his anxiety was ridiculous. Or perhaps it was just excitement. Either way, Fancy had a lot of trouble holding still.

At last he spotted one of his guests: Colonel Mander, moving slowly with a stiff hind leg. Fancy couldn’t help staring: the colonel was sporting an orange polo shirt. Fancy never thought he’d see the day the stallion didn’t wear his armor. He was halfway tempted to doubt his eyes.

He was followed by Oak Feathers, who now sported a set of wheels strapped to her waist to make movement easier. It looked like a graceless method of travel, but the hard look on her face deterred any offerings of help from others. She seemed to be moving just fine, at least. She was followed by a tall, yellow stallion with a fiery orange mane.

As soon as they were out, a filly darted out of the train, flying a blurry circle around them. She only paused when Oak snapped at her, at which point Fancy noted that she shared her father’s coloration almost exactly, though her coat was a bit darker in shade. Fancy couldn’t help smiling; that must be the ‘little fireball’ he’d read about in Oak’s letters. How old was she, thirteen?

His servant caught the group’s attention, and soon the ponies were all approaching Fancy’s carriage. He grinned and waited until they were within a dozen feet before opening the door and stepping out. “My friends, welcome! Welcome to—”

“Did you really jump off a cloud and kill a dragon?!”

He blinked, a face full of orange filly obscuring his vision. “You must be Spitfire.”

The filly grabbed his cheeks. “That sounds awesome! Tell me how you did it!”

“Spitfire,” Oak snapped, “get out of his face.”

“But Moooom!”

“Now.”

The filly crossed her hooves and pouted, floating back to hover over her mother’s shoulder. Oak shot her a withering glance for a second or two before turning her attention to Fancy. “Well, look at the rich colt, all studded out in a suit.”

Fancy chuckled and ran a hoof along his tuxedo. “It comes with the new reputation. How are you, Captain?”

“Not bad, all things considered.” She reached back to pat one of the wheels. “These things are a lot more effective than they look, I can still detach and fly at will, and I don’t have to retire. They got me training new recruits now.”

Fancy grinned. “I almost feel sorry for the recruits. Almost.”

Oak returned the grin, then waved to the stallion at her side. “Fancy, meet Heatwave, my husband.”

The two exchanged a hoofbump, Heatwave’s feeling curiously weak. “Nice to meet you,” Fancy said.

“Likewise,” Heatwave replied with a small smile. “Oak’s told me a lot about you.”

Oak pointed to the hovering filly. “And as you’ve figured out, this is my daughter, Spitfire.”

Spitfire was still pouting. “Hey.”

Fancy chuckled. “A pleasure, little lady.”

“I ain’t little!” Spitfire stuck out her chest and huffed. “I’m gonna be a Wonderbolt someday!”

“Sure ya are, kid.” Oak’s tone was dry, but she still had a broad smile.

Fancy turned to the last of his guests. “Colonel. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Retired,” Colonel Mander said, lips upturned in a smile. “And enjoying it. It’s good to see ya, Sir Fancy.”

Fancy winced as he exchanged a hoofbump with the colonel. “Please don’t. I really don’t like that I got a title while you guys got scars.”

“Hey, I’m proud of my scars,” Oak declared, beating her chest. “It beats having a pretty title any day. Less attention.” She pointed to the side, where Fancy finally noticed the crowd of ponies looking to catch a glimpse of Equestria’s newest hero. He rolled his eyes and stood aside, gesturing to the carriage.

“Let’s get out of here before they start asking for autographs or worse.”

They were sitting around his brand new dining room table, enjoying a five-course meal before a massive set of windows that showed off Fancy’s new garden. He was learning more about his friends in one evening than he’d ever expected. At the moment his attention was on Colonel Mander – “Geri,” as he insisted he be called now. “I’m still trying to imagine you on a golf course.”

Geri grinned over his spinach. “Use all that money you’ve got to buy some clubs and I might be willing to give you lessons… for a price.”

Oak, sitting between her husband and daughter, laughed raucously. “Forget it, Fancy doesn’t have the balls!” Heatwave was blushing wildly, but Spitfire laughed right along with her mother. “I finally found something to go with your flank, Geri.”

“I still say golf is boring,” Spitfire said once she’d regained control. She might have flown out of her chair if her parents hadn’t already lectured her a dozen times for the crime. “I prefer hoofball!”

“That’s my girl.” Oak ruffled the filly’s mane with a grin. “She’s really good, too. I’m pretty sure that she’ll be a wide receiver in the pros… if the whole Wonderbolt thing doesn’t pan out.”

“Hah! There’s no way I’m not getting into the Wonderbolts.” Spitfire tried to strike a proud pose, but ended up knocking her plate and had to scramble to keep it from spilling her glass. Blushing profusely, she mumbled an apology and attempted to hide under the table.

Heatwave said nothing, and he seemed to be the quiet type. Fancy didn’t mind; Oak said enough for the both of them.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Fancy turned to find his butler at the head of the table. “Hello, Straight Lace. What can I do for you?”

“Pardon the interruption, sir, but you have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Fancy glanced out the window, noting how dark it was. “At this time of night? Who?”

Straight Lace’s expression remained immaculately… straight. “She declined to provide a name, I’m afraid, but said you would be eager to see her. A young mare. Possibly another of your adoring fans hoping to catch your eye, although she’s far too young for such things. Shall I send her away?”

Sometimes Straight Lace’s ability to hold that dull tone really unnerved Fancy. “No, I best see who it is. At the very least I’ll be courteous enough to let her down myself.”

Oak’s eyebrows wiggled as he stood. “Oooooh, Fancy’s got the mares beating down his door.”

“What did I tell you, Fancy?” Geri raised his glass with a smirk. “Mares like heroes. Go give her what she wants, kid.”

“Ugh.” Spitfire rolled her eyes. “Adults.”

Heatwave just watched with a blushing grin.

Fancy had the discipline to not let their taunting get to him… openly. In truth, he’d had so many mares come to ‘visit’ Equestria’s one and only knight that he’d become quite used to deflecting their obvious passes. He followed his servant through the halls, wondering what this one would try. “How many does this make, I wonder?”

Straight Lace didn’t miss a beat. “She’ll be the fifth this week, sir. I do believe she’s set a record for age, though.”

That made Fancy miss a step. “Wait, hold old do you think this mare is?”

His servant replied with a simple but telling “Not.” He paused at the top of the banister by the stairs of the greeting hall. “Sir Fancy Pants, Dragonslayer and Knight of Equestria.”

Fancy paused at the top of the stairs, his eyes going to the pony standing in the center of the hall. He peered in the dim lighting; she was small, alright, with long legs and a lithe form. A model, perhaps? He’d had one or two of those show up. He started down the stairs, but when she turned to him his legs stopped moving.

She gazed up at him with bright violet eyes. “Hello, Fancy.”

“Fleur?” He hurried to the bottom of the stairs, a curiously tight feeling in his chest. “Is… is that really you?”

She smiled sweetly, tall and proud as she flicked her immaculate pink mane. “It most certainly—”

Fancy wrapped his hooves about her shoulders in a tight hug that made her gasp. His heart soared as she slowly reached up to return the gesture. They remained that way for some time, neither saying a word.

But then Fancy pulled back. “I thought you were dead! Where have you been all this time?”

She sighed, but didn’t lose her smile. “It’s a long story. I’m sorry I couldn’t contact you.”

“Couldn’t contact me?” He scowled. “For three months? I thought Reddux had eaten you!” He bowed his head, shoulders shaking. “I… I searched all over the city trying to find you.”

“I’m sorry, Fancy.” She rubbed his cheek and brushed his mane back. “Really, I am. I promise, I’ll tell you all about it later.”

He pressed her hoof to his cheek, delighting in her touch. She was real; the last weight of the conflict had finally lifted from his shoulders, and despite everything he managed a smile. “I’ll hold you to it.” He stepped back and nodded for the stairs. “We’re having dinner with Oak’s family and Colonel Mander. Oh, you haven’t met him, have you?” He chuckled weakly. “Well, no time like the present. Would you… would you like to join us?”

Fleur beamed. “I would love to, thanks.”

As they ascended the steps, Fancy struggled to pick out one of the myriad of questions flying through his brain. “So… what brings you to Canterlot?”

Fleur’s smile broadened. “School. I’ve been accepted to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.”

Fancy sputtered. “But ponies start there at the age of six!”

“I’m in a special program,” she replied with a grin. “Seeing as of how I’ve had no formal education at all, I’ll be going through an intensive crash course. I’m told that, if I work hard and keep focused, I’ll be graduated by the time I’m eighteen.”

He gaped. “That’s remarkable. Do you really think you can handle that?”

Fleur shrugged. “They accepted me, so they must think so.”

“I had a feeling you were talented, Miss Purpurnyj, but this is something else.”

“Why, thank you.” She giggled and paused to wave her hoof towards her flank. “But it’s Miss de Lis now.” Fancy turned to examine her cutie mark, then raised an eyebrow her way, to which she responded, “I’m finally free of Daring Deeds, may his soul rot in Tartarus. New life, new name.”

“Fleur de Lis.” He applied a Prench pronunciation to the name, trying it out, then smiled. “I like it.

“So,” he pressed as they resumed walking, “have you a place to stay for the night?”

“Well, the school does provide some accommodations…”

Fancy noted the hesitation in her voice and shot her a curious look. “You don’t care for them?”

“It’s not that.” She averted her gaze with a blush. “It’s just… well…” Her head rolled about, as if looking for something to focus on other than him. “I kinda hoped I could stay with you.”

“Of course you can!”

She blinked. “You… really?”

He turned to set a hoof to her shoulder. “Fleur, don’t you remember? I want to help you in any way I can. I would be more than happy to have you as a house-mate. After all that you’ve been through, you deserve no less than the finest.”

Fleur’s gape shifted to a broad smile, her eyes shining. “You have no idea what this means to me, Fancy. I had really hoped for this. I…” She bowed her head and scuffed the floor. “I don’t know a thing about Canterlot. Everything here feels so alien.”

He chuckled, struck a practiced pose and attained the posh tone he’d mastered from foalhood. “As the Most Important Pony in Canterlot, I feel it is my duty to enlighten you to the ways of the posh and prim. I’ll have you up to speed on Canterlot customs in no time at all.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “That’s exactly what I need! Thank you, Fancy. Just walking through the streets of this place makes me feel…” She glanced away with a pout and a blush. “…outclassed.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” He raised her chin with a hoof to look into her eyes. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know. By the time I’m done with you, they’ll think you were born here. In fact…” He leaned back and considered her with a hoof to his chin. “Yes… I think I’ll introduce you as my sister.”

Fleur blinked. She blinked again. Her jaw dropped. “Your… sister?”

“Surrogate, of course.” He blushed and glanced away. “I mean, if you’re okay with that. It’ll give you a huge status boost right away, so perhaps your time at Celestia’s school will be easier in that vein. And if you’re my sister, nopony will question why I have an underage mare living with me. Of course, if that’s too personal for you, we could—”

He let out a small gasp as she jumped forward, throwing her legs around his neck and crossing her neck around his withers. He could only stand there, shocked into silence as she trembled against him.

Her voice shook with her body. “I would love to be your sister. I would love to have any family at all. There’s nopony I’d like more as a brother.”

Was she… crying? Fancy slowly sat and wrapped his hooves around her. “H-hey, no need to… I mean…”

She pulled back, tears streaming down her cheeks as she smiled. “Thank you, Fancy. This is far, far more than I’d hoped.”

“Hey, stop that.” He brushed the moisture from her cheeks with a warm smile. “I won’t have any sibling of mine crying in this house.”

Her smile broadened. “Not even happy tears?”

He considered her, then sighed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, very well, I suppose I can accept happy tears. But that’s as much as I’ll give you.”

“Deal.” She leaned into him. They remained that way for a little while, a wave of contentment washing over Fancy.

Geri’s voice rose from the nearby doorway. “She’s a little young for you, ain’t she, soldier?”

Fancy chuckled.

“Shut up, you old goat.”

Fleur stared at her new room from the foot of the bed, her head slowly moving in a circle to take it all in. Fancy’s place was modest by Canterlot standards, but compared to the Spartan design of the castle at Estéril Pezuñas, she felt like a princess. Beautiful hardwood flooring and walls, a canopy bed, a pristine view of Canterlot Castle that even now, late at night, was breathtaking. The walk-in closet alone was the same size as her old room! She turned and felt at the bed, delighting in its softness. She could get used to this.

“I take it things went well?”

Three months of practice kept Fleur from shouting, but she still jumped and spun around with a jerk. “I wish you would quit doing that!”

Fine Crime, standing a couple paces away, smirked. “And I’ll never grow tired of that reaction.”

She took a moment to let her pulse slow down to normal levels, using the breathing technique he’d taught her. “What did Hoofknife say?”

Fine grinned. “It’s official: you’re my apprentice. You’re not the youngest Archon to join up, but it’s damn close.”

Fleur hoof-pumped. “Yes! I knew I aced those trials.”

“Well, no, I wouldn’t say ‘aced.’ ” Fine sat and rubbed his chest self-appreciatively. “You didn’t even come close to my scores.” He chuckled as she stuck her tongue out. “But we do have an idea of where your skills lie, and I’ll be grooming you for a certain type of job.”

She sobered and gestured to the castle in the distance. “Is that why you arranged for me to attend the school?”

He nodded. “It’s part of it, yes. The trials told us nothing about your magical aptitude, so I’m hoping the school will help you narrow down your focus. That’s entirely up to you, of course.” He eyed her as she considered this. “So… surrogate brother, huh?”

Fleur’s ears folded back and she winced. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“Not at all.” Fine’s smile grew warm. “I’m happy for you. I think Fancy will make an excellent brother. His teaching you about noble etiquette will also be a big boon for your training.”

She heaved a relieved sigh. “Good. So what’s next?”

“You just focus on getting through Celestia’s school,” he said. “The first year is going to be rough as you play ‘catch up.’ I’ll continue doing my usual while you perfect your magic and learn to be a—” He took on a feminine, haughty voice and posed with a hoof to his chest, “—proper lady.”

The act had her giggling. “I can live with that.”

Fleur sobered, her eye going to the window. She approached it, staring out at the city of Canterlot. “This is it, isn’t it? The beginning of a new life.”

He stood beside her, staring up at the stars with a small smile. “You’ve earned it, Little Miss.”

After a moment’s quiet, she turned to him and bowed her head. “Fine, thank you. For everything.”

He didn’t look at her. His gaze remained on the stars. Fleur thought he wouldn’t answer, but at last sucked in a deep breath and spoke. “I should be thanking you, Fleur.”

She cocked her head. “Why?”

He rubbed his mane back, still not looking her way. “I’ve lived my life from day to day, job to job, kill to kill. I’ve never really had a purpose to what I do. Hoofknife pointed me in a direction and I went. I did my job, because the job was all I had. Now I… I feel like I finally have something worth living for.” He finally looked to her, and his smile was warm. “So thank you. Thanks for putting some ‘life’ back into my life.”

They shared smiles for some time. Eventually they returned to staring out the window. Fleur leaned towards him a little. “So… I guess this is a new beginning for both of us.”

He nodded. “I like that thought. Me and you, you and Fancy. And this time?

“This time we’ll make it work.”

Author's Note

And so ends my little dragon story. Yet again, a big thanks to my pre-reader Majora and editor Danger Beans. Now that I have finally established the full background of Fleur de Lis and Fancy Pants for my No Heroes and Fleur AUs, I feel much more comfortable with expanding their roles.

Oh, and Fine's too. Guess I should mention him. It's not like he's a primary character in both AUs, after all.[/sarcasm]

Now that I've finished writing a me story, time to get back to some old projects! I'll see you all in the next story.