Limits of the Horizon

Chapters

1 - Silence
2 - Tinderbox
3 - Inquest
4 - Full Circle
5 - Blackout
6 - Youtherd
7 - Custard
8 - Mad Mares
9 - Brink
10 - Sorrow
11 - Legacy of Hell
13 - Perspective
15 - Tomorrow When The War Began
16 - Hope From Ashes
17 - Slavegirl
18 - A Mare's Place
19 - Shining Armor
20 - Kill Him
21 - Choosing Sides
22 - Number One Assistant
23 - TARDIS
Prologue - The Day Dash begged
12 - Waterworks
14 - When Siblings Collide
24 - The Price of Treason
To be continued...

1 - Silence

Ten years later

“…Tell me what happened Vera.”

Vireo Vista grimaced. Compared to everything else that had just happened, having his name mispronounced was nothing; but on top of everything else, it felt like everything. Wasn’t it enough that the old hag had failed to protect them, and was continuing to do so? All she needed to do was lift her head a few inches, look out her gilded balcony doors, and the big black column of smoke would have told her everything she needed to know.

Vireo had already wasted two hours that morning, with three other pegasi, at the palace gates; arguing with guards who just assumed that since it was only the second day of summer holidays, they simply must be lying pranksters. Maybe his pure white coat camouflaged the black soot that marred it, or maybe the two mugs of cider on his breath was enough of an excuse for them to call him drunk.

When Celestia finally got around to raising the sun, so everyone could see that a smoke column had replaced Ponyville; you’d think that that would have been enough for her to launch a rescue mission, but no. Far be it from Equestria’s fearless leader to do anything as rash as do something useful, like saving the life of Vireo’s sister, without having all the facts; so she called an emergency council, listened to the other three pegasi say what happened, and then ask Vireo to say it all again. Now, to add insult to insult, she just had to mispronounce his name to make him sound like he was a girl.

Vireo took a deep breath, “Last night, an army of buffalo attacked Ponyville. They posted guards at every exit and the rest of the army swarmed into the town, herded everyone they could catch into the town center and started dragging everyone away in nets. No, I don’t know why. No, I don’t know what tribe. No, there wasn’t any effort to talk things over before they attacked. Yes, there was a giant blue that some buffalo were carrying, that was shooting pegasi out of the air with magic. No, I didn’t get a close look at it. Yes they killed people; yes they looted the town, but these things weren’t their priority.”

Vireo spat out his testimony without stopping for breath, and waited for Celestia to respond; but she just sat that, shriveling under her own apathy like she’d hoped the other three pegasi were wrong and he’d explain how it was all a big mistake. When it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything, the room splintered into separate conversations:

The earth pony diplomats agreed that since the buffalo had no need for slave labor and hadn’t discriminated in the age or health of the prisoners they took that they must be after a ransom; and began theorizing what they could possibly want so badly as to risk open war and almost certain annihilation.

The pegasi scoutmasters highlighted that reaching Ponyville would have required skirting the inside of the Everfree Forest and detailed knowledge of the local landscape; meaning the chances they’d thought Ponyville still housed the Elements of Harmony after all these years was minuscule.

The unicorn magi were mostly on the balcony, using telescopes and magically enhanced eyesight to try to identify the giant blue cube that eight ornately dressed buffalo were carrying at the head of the escaping army as they bee-lined for their home territory without the slightest effort to hide themselves.

Vireo stayed put, seething in anger and ran a hoof through his black mane and found it was still slick with his sister’s blood. They’d been together when the attack began and been ensnared in a net before they knew what was happening. Vireo had to get away, but his sister was dragged to the ground and clubbed behind the ear and Vireo ran like a coward to save his own skin.

This was all Celestia’s fault. Twenty-five years ago the buffalo had attacked an outlying Equestrian settlement, and instead of retaliating Celestia had surrendered, offering them food that the pony settlers needed in exchange for their promise of peace. One regiment of Royal Guards would have been a match for any of the buffalo tribes, and three regiments could have annexed their entire territory; but Celestia had surrendered, rewarding them for their invasion and motivating them to attack again the moment they wanted more. Now Vireo didn’t know if his sister was alive or dead.

To Celestia’s left was the horn-locked, holographic projection of her sociopath little sister Nightmare Moon; who, for reasons Vireo could not begin to comprehend, Celestia was allowing to attend this emergency meeting from luxury house arrest. With the rest of the room talking, Nightmare Moon leaned over and began whispering to Celestia; maybe trying to convince her to let her go on a buffalo hunting holiday as an early birthday present, so long as she promised not to kill the prisoners as well. Thankfully, not even Celestia was stupid enough to trust her again.

One hope stood in the room; to Celestia’s right, in gleaming sky-steel armor, stood Shining Armor, the high defender of Canterlot who had led the Royal Guard, including Vireo’s father, for almost twenty years with a nearly flawless record. The mistakes he had made were ancient and exculpatory; side effects from an unparalleled spree of amelioration magic which had enhanced his magical prowess beyond what had been believed possible, surpassing even Celestia.

That wasn’t the reason for Vireo’s hope.

Celestia was childless; drudge to some ancient alicorn chastity oath to spare herself the pain of repeatedly watching her loved ones die. Shining Armor had four children who, like Vireo, had all been in Ponyville last night for Youtherd: the fortnight long end of school celebrations for high school and university students who flocked by the hundreds to celebrate the summer holidays.

The doors lurched open again and a trio of uniformed pegasi ran in. They bowed quickly and reported that the bridge connecting the train line to Ponyville had been demolished, apparently by pony saboteurs, hampering any relief effort to the survivors and blocking rescue forces.

The danger and complexity of the situation mutated and multiplied. Celestia seemed to shrink backwards, ready to sulk, Shining Armor tensed, ready to act; and Vireo understood why his father sometimes joked that if Princess Cadance had given Shining Armor two alicorn foals, he should have deposed both Princesses and installed his children as Equestria’s new monarchs.

Shining Armor shared one long, intimate gaze with his wife who was standing beside him. From where Vireo was standing her face was barely visible, blocked by her husband, a lock of pink mane, her minotaur body guard - Iron Will, and her wing that was stretching forewords to clutch the Element of Kindness hanging around her neck; yet Vireo could still see her eyes shining with uncharacteristic courage.

The aura of silence around Shining Armor shattered, and he began barking orders. The flag ship of the Equestrian Airforce would be ready for pursuit in one hour, as would Shining Armor with his elite Sun Guards.

Vireo’s sister was going to be saved.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Twilight Sparkle walked down row after row of empty tables in her vast, empty lecture hall; the silence was deafening. The room should have been packed; filled with buzz of intelligent young minds at work, the scratching of pens, the rumblings of books and the clash of hundreds of questions being met head-on by scores of answers as she taught the next generation of alpha unicorns. The room was quiet now; her kids were all gone for the holidays and Twilight had the entire summer to herself... just herself.

Twilight began rearranging each chair and table to stand at symmetrical perfection. She knew no-one would notice, but one last task helped delay the sinking finality that another year had already passed her by. Usually Twilight would have been looking forwards to the holidays, except… last summer... hadn’t gone too well.

It had begun happily enough, foalsitting Applejack and Fancypants’ foals Jonagold and Fair Trade; taking them to parks, movies, museums, or even the occasional sleepover, but all that ended in a huge fight with Applejack who had decided she was uncomfortable with how attached Twilight was getting to her children. It had been hard to accept, but Applejack wanted to be the only mother in her children’s lives and that meant Twilight had to go.

Twilight sulked for a few days, but then made the decision that she wouldn't let this ruin her holidays; she was strong, confident, and more than able to cope without Applejack’s kids. Then Rainbow Dash got mad at her and made her promise not to visit her and Storm more than twice a week unless invited.

Twilight guessed she was going to be spending a lot of time around Cadance this summer, or at least the next two weeks. Shining Armor would probably be busy and with all their children at Youthherd, Cadance would probably feel lonely, and Twilight hated for any of her friends to feel alone.

The only other friend Twilight had that she could visit was Pinkie Pie; but of all her friends, this was the least feasible option. Nearly one quarter of Twilight’s students were in Ponyville for Youtherd, and no matter how grateful they would be to her when they were older, Twilight knew that many of them resented their heavy workload and saw getting away from her as the highlight of their holidays. To attend Youtherd unannounced would ruin it for them, be awkward for her, and so in the interests of continued harmony, she had forfeited that territory to them. Her students probably wouldn’t even mind her so much if they saw her as having some kind of life outside of school but the truth was… they were right; she didn’t have anything else.

Twilight had spent her entire life dedicated to scholarly pursuits; and was now having buyer’s remorse. She’d waited too long to find someone to spent her life with, and now her life of endless intellectual pursuits was beginning to lose its luster.

Twilight had searched for 'the right one'; she'd cut her list of rules for the perfect stallion from ninety-three down to twenty-five and then just eight, but it was all in vain. Whenever she tried to get close to a stallion there was no spark, no flame, nothing like what she’d read about, or seen in her friends. She was alone, but for most of her life this hadn’t really bothered her; she’d been young, she’d had time, she’d had books; and except for Cadance and Rainbow Dash, none of her friends had been in a relationship until… it happened.

Eighteen years ago, Twilight had woken up in Canterlot Hospital. There was a letter beside her from Princess Celestia, asking her to remain calm and saying that she would be there tomorrow morning to explain everything. Twilight waited patiently for about two minutes, grew anxious when she realized that she was horn locked, and one arm was tied to the hospital bed, then panicked when she looked under the covers and saw nothing but an emaciated skeleton covered in a thin sheet of skin and scar tissue. Twilight began screaming for the doctors; and was answered with one nurse who casually hurried in and sedated her rather than answering any of her questions.

She woke up early the next morning and counted the minutes for Celestia’s arrival, but Celestia never came. Twilight asked the nurse who brought her lunch about the letter and the nurse got excited, asking specific details about the day before, then ran out of the room. Within twenty-four hours Twilight had been visited by Celestia, Shining Armor, Cadance, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Storm, Spike, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, Pyromite and Owlowiscious; who all tearfully told her the same story. Two and a half years earlier, Twilight had been running experiments inside the Everfree Forest and had contracted a virus that gave her antero-grade amnesia, blocking her from remembering anything for more than a few minutes, and it had taken the doctors in Canterlot two and a half years to develop a cure.

Twilight asked about the scars and weight loss; at first it seemed hard to believe, but by the time Celestia explained it for the third time it had begun to make sense. When Twilight first got sick, she was taken to the hospital where she would constantly realize she didn’t know where she was, believe she’d been kidnapped and panic; over and over, in a state of constant hysteria, leaving her continually exhausted. Whenever possible, in-between treatments, Celestia would send Twilight back to the library to try and give her some sense of normalcy, while her friends took turns in watching her. This left her calmer; but she would still constantly realize she didn’t know what was happening or how she got where she was, and if her caretaker lost vigilance for a moment, she could go galloping off to get her bearings. Twice Twilight had tripped over a pile of books she’d left out and fallen heavily down the stairs, once she’d crashed into her chemistry set, spilling burning chemicals and broken glass over and into her coat and countless smaller accidents had mutilated her, piece by piece.

A plethora of gruesome accidents had battered her and an endless barrage of anxiety had aged her; the effect on her physical condition had seemed ruinous at first, but in the long term, it meant nothing. The bags under her eyes dissipated within a few weeks, her body weight returned to equilibrium within a few months and within a few years most of her scars were unnoticeable unless you knew where to look. The scars that never healed were the things she’d missed, and knew she would never get back.

Twilight went to sleep one night; she knew all her friends, Shining Armor and Cadance’s first foal, Clastic Strain, was a baby, and Rainbow Dash was the only Element in a relationship. She woke up one morning, Clastic Strain was walking, talking, casting basic spells and had two younger siblings Twilight had never even met before; Twilight was the only one of her friends who wasn’t married, Rainbow Dash had twins, Pinkie Pie had triplets, and those weren’t even the most important thing’s she’d missed!

Fluttershy was dead!

Rainbow Dash explained how Fluttershy had eloped with a pegasus named Nature Guard and went to live in a tree house village of conservationists to prevent a logger company from leveling the forest. Nine months later, Fluttershy was six months pregnant with their first foal when jungle fever struck the fledgling family, killing all three of them, after which they were cremated by the surviving conservationists to prevent the plague from spreading. Although Twilight was delighted to learn that The Element of Kindness had chosen Cadance as its new bearer, it was beastly poor compensation for having lost one of her closest friends, without having the chance to say goodbye.

Of course, much more had happened in two and a half years then everyone Twilight knew falling in love, having children and dying while she was plagued by self-destructive amnesia. Her friends told her the nice things first; like how Storm and Shining Armor had forgiven each other for what had happened and were talking to each other again. After that they told her some of the more regrettable things like how Rarity had lost what was left of her mind, was now incarcerated in a mental asylum, and had, in theory, married a tree she’d named, ‘Prince Handsome-Rich-Charming-Smart-Strong-Famous'. But it wasn’t until later that she began to discover for herself what no one else was willing to tell her.

Even when Shining Armor first visited her in the hospital; something about him had seemed… wrong. Three months later Twilight discovered Shining Armor was a recovering alcoholic and had been relieved from his duty as Captain of the Royal Guard. It didn’t seem possible at the time; it was terrifying. Shining Armor had always had one of the strongest wills of anypony she knew; until then, the only times she remembered him going out ‘drinking’ as a colt had been to make sure all his friends got home OK. For him to be an alcoholic in just two years was unbelievable, but at least he was better now. Cadance had made sure he got the help he needed and four years after the end of Twilight’s blackout Shining Armor was reinstated to his rightful position and hadn't touched a drop since.

The other thing that had happened during her gap period that no one had told her about was almost as surprising and infinitely more satisfying; she had learned to paint! A few weeks after waking up from her blackout, Twilight came across an old art kit and gotten the inexplicable urge to paint Clastic Strain. Based on her few, failed attempts at painting as a filly, Twilight had expected to paint Clastic just slightly better than he could have painted her; yet remarkably the brush now yielded with perfect cooperation and working from memory alone, she quickly completed an amazingly lifelike portrait.

Cadance finally thought to tell her that when she was sick, painting was one of the few things she could do that didn’t require a memory and would keep her calm, and so had become her primary therapy. Twilight asked to see the paintings she’d done, and Cadance said she’d have a look, but after a prolonged search, the hospital had reluctantly admitted to accidentally selling her works at auction.

Waking up after two years to find she was the only one of her friends still single had been the first time that Twilight had felt… empty and it wouldn’t be the last time. But although settling down and raising a family had temporarily invaded a portion of her mind; it was quickly consumed by something far more important than any single mare’s happiness:

The war in the Everfree Forest had dragged on for centuries; usually no more than an endless series of skirmishes but was marked by one massive invasion about every twenty-five years. After the return of Luna however, the terrormongers and changelings began behaving erratically, and showed every indication of preparing for an invasion of apocalyptic proportions.

Fourteen years before the last invasion had been anticipated; Twilight had learned about the Ranger’s in that fateful trip with Shining Armor and Rainbow Dash. Then, while resting in Uthraig for the return journey, Twilight had learned of an abandoned research program which, due to its place of origin, had been dubbed The Manehatten Project.

The theory had been simple; one automated spell network that would be powered by the forest’s own unique ley energy, which would end the war forever. The development of the idea had plagued some of Equestria’s greatest minds for centuries. Many who took on the project had become obsessed with it and spent their lives in vain pursuit of a seemingly unreachable goal, while the rest had called it impossible.

The Manehatten Project simply required incorporating the zeniths of too many branches of magic. To make it work you would either need fourteen alpha unicorns or alicorns, each with special talents for a very specific field of magic, to be communicating their fields to each other absolutely perfectly; or you would need one genius unicorn or alicorn whose special talent included all of the seven major branches of magic with a MQ of at least six hundred. Over the years, hundreds had tried to unlock the magical equations, including Celestia; but no one had ever succeeded.

When Twilight learned about the project, took the challenge. Within two years she understood all the research that had been done in the last two centuries and was on the verge of multiple breakthroughs when her blackout happened. As soon as she's been able, Twilight had begun easing herself back into her work. With three months to spare, Twilight successfully tested a weapon that made Shining Armor’s shields look like a magic-kindergarden project by comparison; and that was the last time terrormongers or changelings ever threatened Equestria.

Twilight could finally breathe a sigh of relief and take a hard-earned rest. She had a chance to reconnect with her family, get to really know her friend’s families and maybe start one of her own if she could find the right stallion. But after what happened at Gallopoli, Twilight couldn’t help herself; she was hooked on archeology.

Twilight gathered a team and set out, spending the next four years traveling across and outside Equestria, searching for relics from the old alicorn kingdom or even the Draquordic era. Minus the over-the-top super-villains and ridiculous death traps, her life had almost resembled the Daring Do novels she adored as a filly except, even if Daring’s courtships didn’t always work out; at least she had them, whereas Twilight remained single. Although none of her later discoveries rivaled The Pedagogy, Twilight uncovered many valuable artifacts, some magical, some dangerous, and even few that were cursed, but she never found true love.

After a year without any worthwhile finds, and dwindling funds for future expeditions, Twilight agreed to hang up her helmet and accepted a professorship from Celestia’s school for Gifted Unicorns. While watching her friend’s children grow from foals into young stallions and mares, Twilight taught. Her students got exceptional grades, she wrote two books that were received well by the academic community. Then, finally Twilight found someone she thought might be the one, only to find out that he was already married. Since then she’d made multiple inventions which were slowly changing the face of Equestria, become headmistress of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, published a third book, and was now too old to have children.

Spike had been like a son to her; but he left her for Sweetie Bell and who could blame him? Pyromite didn't even bother to say goodbye before flying off with Philomena. Owlowiscious stayed long after the other two had gone, sharing her love for books and archeology, he joined her on her travels, not needing any owlet to make him happy; then he died.

Then, of course, there were her students. While it was true that her near-total lack of romantic experience had caused her to be the butt of the jokes of some of her more careless students, (jokes quickly reprisal with many, many hours of detention), it hadn’t stopped Twilight from successfully playing matchmaker for eight pairs of her students, five of whom were now married and three of whom had children of their own.

Twilight rarely saw them after that, but that was OK because next year was always around the corner and would bring with it two or three more students who would be more special than the rest and would become almost like children to her. But in time they’d pair up, graduate and leave Twilight empty until she got a new batch of students who would become almost like family.

Twilight was facing another lonely summer; and that’s why she expected to be spending most of it with Cadance who had always been a remedy for loneliness. Back when Twilight was a filly, Cadance had been the only person except Shining Armor who had been able to break through her shell. Now that she was devolving into antiquity, Cadance was still there, and even though she had stopped encouraging Twilight that one day she’d find someone, she had never stopped being encouraging.

The lecture hall was aligned to perfection, Twilight went to her desk, and gathered the few items she would need on the holidays. Surveying the room one last time, she slowly turned towards the mahogany doors and gently gripped them in her magic. The doors exploded inwards; as a panting, bleeding young alicorn burst into the hall.

Chapter Two >>> Tinderbox

2 - Tinderbox

Shining Armor poured more of his energy into the Sun Strider’s engines, willing the small airship to go faster. There was a groan, and the Strider lurched forwards, only to be met by another gust of desert wind, slowing their progress back to a casual drawl.

It was now six days since Shining Armor had left Canterlot. Six days of relentless, hostile winds which prevented them from closing a lead that hadn’t been more than eighty miles to begin with. One day of favorable winds would be enough to overtake the buffalo and rescue the hostages, but good winds never came and the blurred testimony of the prisoners trail showed that the situation was fast becoming desperate.

Buffalo may be accustomed to running for days on end; but ponies weren’t. When the prisoner’s trails began weakening as they passed into buffalo territory, Shining Armor hadn’t worried, believing the buffalo would soon stop in some fortified hill or ravine and make their demands. There, Shining Armor would either negotiate for the prisoner’s safe return, or, more likely, cast a plethora of small energy shields to protect the prisoners, then blast the buffalo into oblivion with the Sun Strider’s cannons.

The buffalo didn't stop in their own territory; they didn’t even slow down. They cut a line across their lands like a knife and kept stampeding west into the Zaharren Desert; a sand steeped wasteland which made their own barren plains look like fertile woodland by comparison; that was when prisoner’s tracks began teetering on collapse.

So far Shining Armor had passed over eleven bodies that had had their throats slashed when they were unable to keep pace with the rest of the army. The bodies of nine ponies enraged Shining Armor; but what mortified him was that two of the bodies were buffalo, and one had been a gray-haired elder, still wearing the badge of a patriarch. Buffalo had been renowned for their filial respect for centuries.

Shining Armor considered simply landing the ship, and leading the Sun Guard after the buffalo on hoof. If they ran for about eight hours, rested for four, then ran another eight, they might catch the buffalo by dawn tomorrow; but that plan had three obvious problems; numbers, endurance and 'the box'. The Sun Guard were the most elite veterans in Equestria, but there were only thirty-three on board and the buffalo were estimated at four hundred to four hundred and fifty. Even against those odds however, with him there, Shining Armor felt they could still take the buffalo… or they could run sixteen hours through a blazing desert, they couldn’t do both.

Those were the two problems that Shining Armor understood, the box he knew only by reputation. Buffalo were magically inept, but reports from Ponyville continued to arrive by telefire, claiming, in frustratingly vague detail, that a very powerful ‘magic something’ had been involved in the attack, blasting through buildings like straw and shooting pegasi out of the sky by the dozen.

Any hope that Shining Armor had that the reports had been mistaken were shot down when a contingent of about a hundred and fifty police and reserve military pegasi from Los Pegasus had intercepted the buffalo, planning to stay air borne and dispatch the buffalo via crossbow. Less than half of the pegasi survived their attack, and for the sacrifice of the fallen nothing could be ascertained except the ‘powerful magic something’ was the ‘blue box’ the buffalo carried at the head of their column, though whether they controlled it, or it controlled them, no one could tell.

Unable to afford the loss of the cannons, or time for reinforcements, Shining Armor was stranded on his own ship, teetering along just slightly slower than a fast walk; while anything could be happening to his children. He knew they'd been seen in Ponyville by dozens of ponies in the hours immediately after the attack; helping put out fires and tend wounded; but after that they seemed to have vanished into thin air. Shining Armor could only guess that they'd attempted to go after the prisoners; if this was the case, Shining Armor hadn't found their bodies meaning they'd probably become hostages themselves. Shining Armor knew he could never face himself, or Cadance, if he let his children die out in the desert; but he also knew, from a rational standpoint, that he wasn't the only soldier on board believed to have family among the dying hostages.

As a final nail in the coffin of the crew's moral, they were now flying over the outskirts of the Zaharren; home of the zebras. Shining Armor had passed this far west twice before, and on both occasions had hoped he would never have to come here again. Those Sun Guards who had been with him the longest, deftly avoided mentioning the last time they were here, as if there was even the slightest chance Shining Armor had forgotten and they didn’t want to remind him.

The younger recruits believed they were the first Equestrian troops to pass this way in decades; though most of them were perceptive enough to guess that there was more going on then the threat of the prisoners being massacred by desert heat, or sparking international conflict by flying an armed warship into a country Equestria had no diplomatic ties to.

Life aboard the Sun Strider was tense, tempers were short and Shining Armor had already been obligated to discipline two of his soldiers for fighting. The example had been taken by the rest of the crew; but having nothing to do but sit and wait for a good breath of wind had everyone melting in restlessness… well… almost everyone.

Spike was sleeping like a baby.

Three hours after leaving Canterlot, Shining Armor had been hit with a letter from Spike, telling him about the attack. Shining Armor replied, saying he already knew and asking Spike to help care for the survivors. Instead, Spike wrote back, asking to come with him.

Years ago, when Twily had set out for her first archeological dig, Spike had chosen to remain in Ponyville to be with his fiancé Sweetie Bell. Twily had offered them the library, but Sweetie Bell made it vehemently clear she had absolutely no intention of ‘becoming Twilight’ so Spike moved out; and began digging out an underground manor into the side of Whitetail Mountain, overlooking Ponyville. They’d planed to get married as soon as the first stage of the manor was complete, but three weeks before the project was planned for completion, Sweetie Bell got sick. Twelve days later, she died.

After the funeral, Spike moved alone into the recesses of his mine and was rarely seen again. Most people in Ponyville romanticized the tale and believed Spike was still mourning the loss of his beloved. For the first year or so that may have been true, but by now Shining Armor believed Spike when he said that he had simply found living in a cave, by himself, to be a surprisingly enjoyable experience.

Separated from ponies; Spike’s mind was slowly transforming into typical dragonish thoughts of sleep and hoard building. Once every few months he would come down to Ponyville with a bag of precious gems and buy either several hundred pastries from Sugarcube Corner, or a wagonload of apples from Sweet Apple Acres. He’d eat, listen to the latest news and occasionally say a few sentences before shuffling back up the mountain to sleep for the week.

Given a recent activity record like that; the last thing Shining Armor had expected was for Spike to ask to come on the rescue mission. He’d said no, but Spike reminded him of a time when he and Twily had been near Appleloosa, and encountered a tribe of buffalo who had shown him inexplicable, unconditional reverence, second only to the chief, just for being a dragon. Spike thought that if anyone could reason with the buffalo it would be him; Shining Armor doubted that these buffalo were looking for reason, but agreed to send a chariot to pick him up. Spike wrote back one last time asking for five chariots; one for him, and four for his hoard.

When Spike arrived, he'd sniffed the airship up and down until he found a spot near the back of the deck that he liked, poured his gemstones into a pile, spent about five hours re-stacking them until they were ‘just right’ and then gone to sleep. Every twelve hours or so he would wake up, eat around six quarts of gems, then go back to sleep again and hadn’t left his hoard except once, to go to the toilet. That bathroom was still under repair.

How Spike could act so relaxed with so much at stake was something Shining Armor both envied and hated. If he hadn’t known Spike better, he would have thought the dragon simply wanted to joy ride on an airship for all the concern he was showing, but Shining Armor knew that Spike did care. He just knew there was nothing he could do and so instead of worrying, Spike was the only person on board who was actually being successful at doing nothing.

Usually when Shining Armor was this annoyed at a soldier, they deserved a flogging. In Spike’s case a medal would probably be more appropriate though both would be redundant as, if he were given either, Spike would probably eat the medal and then sleep through the flogging.

Shining Armor trusted Spike, even though no matter how well he thought he knew Spike as a baby, drake Spike was becoming more and more of a mystery. Why hadn't Spike ’t matured like the other baby dragons entrusted to Celestia’s students, turning into a giant, greedy monster overnight. Shining Armor knew that Spike had told Twily that it had something to do with him attending The Great Dragon Migration, but nothing more.

Until Twily had followed Spike on that one expedition, Shining Armor had expected that the migration consisted of hundreds of fully grown dragons, ripping each other to shreds for each others hoards. Instead Twily had described thousands of dragons, of varying age and size, moving peacefully among piles of gems which were left free for the taking, and not doing much of anything that she could tell. At the time it had seemed like the trip revealed little about dragon nature, but whatever it was Spike had failed to understand as a baby, he certainly appreciated now, and told to no one.

Twily had begged, and pleaded with him for years to tell her why the dragons migrated to a different place around the world once every twenty years; and each time Spike was true to dragon nature, telling her that The Migration was dragon business and that she wouldn't understand even if he told her. Aside from that he gave no clues except the changes in his biology that started soon after he got back, slowly at first, then in earnest after his isolation began.

Rather than walking upright, Spike now walked on all fours, with legs disproportionately longer than a pony’s that moved in a sort of canterous lope as his standard gait. Spike was a head taller than Shining Armor was in full battle armor, around three times heavier and at least five times stronger, all wrapped in resilient dragon scale and tipped with teeth and claws that devoured steel.

And he had wings now.

Spike said that his sides had started itching soon after the migration and a year later, small flaps of skin had begun to appear. Probably due to delayed development, his wings weren’t proportionate to the rest of him and were now just slightly larger than an average pegasus. He couldn’t quite fly yet, but Spike said he was getting closer each year, and had every intention of flying to the next migration.

The doors to the lower cabins burst open to make way for a yellow unicorn galloping up the stairs with a glint in her eyes that told Shining Armor that there might finally be some good news. Shining Armor followed her to the back of the ship where she was busy prodding Spike who woke with a groan.

“Is it finished Point Star?” Shining Armor asked eagerly as Spike rolled over and looked at them sleepily.

“Almost” quipped Point Star excitedly, “I just need to run one last test; if everything goes as I expect, Spike should be smelling great within two hours.” Point Star lowered her horn and began casting thin rays of light into Spike’s nostrils which he tolerated wearily, “Now breathe in… and out… in…”

Shining Armor stood back and waited anxiously as Spike begrudgingly subjected himself to Point Star’s intrusions. Shining Armor knew from Gallopoli that Spike could track better than a bloodhound. When they caught the buffalo’s trail at the end of the first day, Shining Armor had asked Spike to go to the surface and see if he could smell any new information; but Spike said that the high altitudes had blocked his nose, and it would take more than a day on the surface for them to clear.

Shining Armor’s innate solution had been to use magic, but his chief navigator, Point Star had vehemently objected. She said that the blood vessels inside a dragon’s nose were extremely delicate and if Shining Armor tried to use a spell designed for ponies, he could cause serious harm.

Knowing what was at stake, and that it was virtually impossible to do any lasting damage to a dragon, Shining Armor was would have risked it as any clue Spike found could be vital in saving the prisoners. Spike was even willing to let Shining Armor try, but Point Star implored them both to give her a few days to reformulate the spell.

How Point Star knew enough about dragon biology to confidently modify the spell was beyond Shining Armor; but he’d known Point Star long enough to simply let her be brilliant without demanding credentials for every piece of information that came out of her mouth. He agreed, and Point Star disappeared below decks to like a rabbit down its hole, or like Twily when she was working on a project, resurfacing only to perform intermittent tests on Spike which he tolerated so long as they didn’t involve leaving his hoard. Those tests were now running on five days; and while most spell weavers might take weeks or even months to do what Point Star had accomplished, it was still five days later than Shining Armor wanted.

“Now hold your breath,” Shining Armor did so and Point Star scribbled some notes down on a parchment, “Now if you could just-”

Spike grunted twin jets of flame into the air, “I know what to do Point Star, you’ve had me do this four times! Just clear my nose so I can smell already.”

“I know, but I need to be careful. If your nose has partially adjusted itself since my last test and I used outdated information, I could hurt you. Now if you could just open your mouth just one last time.”

Spike complied Point Star made her scan and jostled down notes that seemed eerily familiar. Point Star had a good heart but fell prey to the typical arrogance that often accompanied genius. It wasn’t like her to check her work so many times.

Point Star ticked off points on her notepad and then turned to Spike, “Stay here, I just need to check my checklist and then my spell will be ready.” Since when did Point Star use a checklist?

“You’ve already checked your checklist.” growled Spike.

“Yes Spike, but I haven’t triple checked my checklist.”

Spike cringed. Shining Armor froze.

As Point Star turned to leave, Shining Armor got one final glance at her notepad, and finally recognized the writing. A fast revealment spell passed from his horn and an audacious purple mare came into focus.

“…TWILY!!!!”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Twilight stopped, and took a deep breath as her illusionary disguise vaporized around her. “Hi B.B.” she smiled, as he spun her to face him, trying to conjure the non-magical illusion of calm.

“What are you doing here!? Where is Point Star!?”

“She didn’t make it to the landing platform in the one hour you gave everyone and you left without her, just like you said you would. I did make it there in time, and asked to help because I’m an honorary Sun Guard, and because twelve of my students, my niece, and three nephews may be among the hostages. When I tried to sign up, you told me to stay in Canterlot even though I’m more than qualified and gave no reason for it. I was going to argue, but you were busy enough as it was so I stood back and when I saw that Point Star didn’t show up in time I… thought you might need a navigator.”

Shining Armor’s eyes narrowed to slits; “… And you just happened to have a sample of Point Star’s DNA available?”

Oh please, Twilight kept DNA samples of all the Sun Guard, as well as her students, friends, extended family, and the majority of the royal court and celebrities in Canterlot, all neatly filed away in her private lab at the university, just in case of an emergency. That said she hadn’t even needed Point Star’s DNA to cast this spell. “It wasn’t a metamorphous spell; it was just an illusion to alter my colors. Point Star and I have similar height and body shapes and know her cutie-mark from the times that I met her.”

Twilight had expected Shining Armor to be angry when he found her, instead he looked downright furious. He took several deep breaths, but that didn’t stop his face from turning dark red; Twilight looked past him to Spike, hoping for some kind of support but instead he was standing rigid on his hoard, lowering at her like she was an enemy.

“You can’t be here.” hissed Shining Armor.

“It’s too late” Twilight gestured the mounds of sand on every horizon, “We’re over the Zaharren desert. If you drop me off here, I could die of thirst before I made it back to Equestria. If you took the time to turn around and take me back to Equestria, you’ll never find the buffalo again.”

“Twily you can’t be here! Do you… Do you know the penalty for a civilian stowing aboard a military vessel, impersonating a royal officer?”

“If you pressed charges, then depending on the trial and jury I could face up to fifteen years jail or be fines more bits then I have. If I was considered dangerous I might have my horn permanently damaged or cut off and if I was seen as trying to sabotage a mission with Equestian lives at stake, I could be executed.” Twilight tried not to smile as she rattled off the possible sentences, but ended up smirking anyways. There was no way either Shining Armor or Celestia would actually try to convict her. The chances of her paying any serious consequences for this were almost non-existent.

Shining Armor looked like he was ready to throw her off the ship right then and there, she softened her gaze and tried to be reminiscent of times when they were foals, “Clastic Strain, Benefair, Crackle Jack, Winnow Hoof;” She said slowly, softening her gaze, “You and Cadance have said many times that they’re not just your children.

If Celestia had ordered you to stay in Canterlot, you have gone after them too, with or without her blessing. Aside from you, I’m the strongest mage here, and I can apply my magic to more than twice as many spells as you can; I’ve studied the Zaharren culture and language, and you need of a navigator. Let me help, ple-”

“Tell me you’re not to blame for blocking Spike’s nose!”

Twilight’s face fell, “…If you think that I would jeopardize the safety of the hostages for my own sake; then maybe you should just throw me off the ship right now. I was completely honest in my concerns for Spike, and I have worked on developing the spell for him as quickly as I know how. I was going to tell you who I was later today, after my spell were successful and you would hopefully be in a good mood.”

Shining Armor’s glare didn’t soften, though it did slide off her momentarily at the rest of the crew that was gathering around them; “Finish the spell” he growled, “But consider yourself a prisoner. When we reach a safe port of call, your position will be reviewed.”

Chapter Three >>> Inquest

3 - Inquest

Words were buzzing around Twilight’s head like bats. Everywhere she looked she saw verbs, nouns, adjectives, pronouns and figures of speech flying in and out selected pigeon holes, and occasionally fighting with each other until Twilight came to choose which one of them to use and which to send sulking back into the vault for storage. It was a world of organized chaos Twilight had constructed over the years where she alone was queen. It was her mind palace; a mental projection she’d made with a combination of numeric memory technique and magic where she housed every thought and memory she’d ever experienced.

In the outside world, it was eleven hours after Twilight had been discovered. Her spell to clear Spike’s nose had worked then ultimately failed as Spike’s journey to the surface and failed to furnish any useful information. Meanwhile, The emotional situation had deteriorated completely. Even after the unexpected severity of Shining Armor’s outburst when he realized she was on board, Twilight had thought that after a few hours he would calm down and be grateful to have someone with her ability supporting him. Instead, he just grew more and more agitated.

If it had been just Shining Armor who was acting strange, Twilight could have ignored it, but it wasn’t; everyone seemed to be avoiding her, even Spike. Twilight knew he’d changed, but had still thought that he’d be happy to see her; and had even had the audacity to hope he might even leave his hoard to come give her a hug. Instead, since his trip to the surface, Spike had said precisely four words to her, ‘why did you come?’ when he didn’t like her answer, he turned away, and had downright ignored her ever since.

Twilight was going to prove them all wrong. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was that they were wrong about, but she was determined to prove that she belonged here, and there were few problems in the universe that could withstand the power of Twilight’s determined mind for long.

Aside from developing the spell to clear Spike’s nose; Twilight had maintained duties as the ships navigator and assisted in repairing a blown engine. Now, with some free time and without the magical drain of maintaining her disguise, Twilight could fully access her mind palace and condition herself for the Zaharren, as it now seemed probable that that was where they were going.

So far, Twilight had turned her body-clock back one hour to compensate for passing into a different time zone; replaced her metric setting of weights, lengths and measurements with the imperial system used in the Zaharren; and tuned the pipe organ of her vocal cords, giving her a natural Zaharren accent she would now use without conscious thought. With those things out of the way, Twilight had moved onto the Hall of Language.

Zaharren and Equish shared common roots and so anyone who spoke one language could make themselves understood in the other, but being understood wasn’t good enough. Twilight and the Sun Guards needed to be accepted and, if possible, trusted by locals who could help them, and that required extra work. Every phrase and figure of speech in her active vocabulary was placed under the scrutiny of Twilight’s best understanding of Zaharren culture. If something could be deemed offensive or misinterpreted; it was locked in her language vault where it wouldn’t escape through a slip of the tongue.

After that, Twilight opened another cabinet and began importing Zaharren phrases into her vocabulary; sometimes kicking out Equish terms that had been allowed to stay until now. If Twilight didn’t understand a phrase, she would put it aside in a basket and moved on, inserting the phrases she did understand and then interpreting the harder ones by the holes that were left, like a jigsaw puzzle, until only one phrase remained.

“Family is everything.”

What did that mean to a zebra?

Usually, all Twilight had needed to do was to look at the way a phrase was used to make an accurate assessment of its meaning, plug it into the right shelf, and then polish it to perfection later. This phrase however had appeared over a hundred times throughout the Zaharren texts Twilight had read, and either different authors had meant something different by it, or there was one massively complicated definition she was somehow missing. Twilight had looked it up in Zaharren dictionaries, but found it omitted, as the zebras apparently thought it too simple to need explaining. She’d read essays on the topic, but still wasn’t sure what it meant.

Twilight needed more information to create her definition and so a brief teleport later, she was standing at one of the myriad of connections between the two massive central chambers that made up the heart of Zaharren culture. All the artifacts she’d imagined from various descriptions, were cracked and covered in a thick layer of dust, to remind Twilight that virtually everything she knew about Zaharren culture came second or third hoof. This made her inquest difficult as nothing here could be considered authoritative, but when five or six semi-reliable sources told her the same thing, she took it as fact. Smaller side chambers furnished additional knowledge about certain festivals or beliefs, but ultimately, everything intersected in one or both of these two rooms which intertwined in ways Twilight struggled to understand; finance and family.

Twilight knew that many zebra families went to exorbitant lengths to stay together; often sharing their finances into a communal pot and building vast estates where dozens or even hundreds of distant relatives could live together. Defending family honor and reputation was considered paramount, betraying your family was considered the worst crime you could do and family businesses often continued for generations.

Financially; the Zaharren had scarce natural resources, yet was one of the wealthiest nations on earth due to endless, international trade that flooded through its capital, Timbucktoo. It was a city that predated the solar war, which could fit all of Canterlot in its great marketplace where, without government regulation, anything could be bought for a price... even slaves.

Technically, the Zaharren was ruled by an alicorn steward named Ferric, with power over the earth’s magnetic fields, but a hundred and eleven years ago, he vanished beyond the reach of even the most far-reaching searches. This led to the collapse of Timbucktoo’s once legendary metal industry and eventually ended its relations with Equestria as there was no longer anything either nation could sell that the other couldn’t buy cheaper elsewhere. Technically, there was a line of stewards that ruled Timbucktoo in Ferric’s absence, though it wasn’t much of a secret that real political power was scattered between the official government, an enigmatic religious order known as Shamans, and three or four dozen ridiculously wealthy ‘great houses’.

Shifting allegiances among the great houses, combined with the diversity of the civilizations they traded with, divided and united the city. Divided in that each house essentially governed itself, causing rules and customs to shift so radically that some said there were a dozen countries inside the one massive city. United in that everyone’s fortunes rested on Timbucktoo’s reputation as a safe place to do business, conflicts needed to be covert and collateral damage kept to an absolute minimum.

It all seemed grotesquely chaotic, and Twilight wondered how the city avoided killing itself every few weeks, but whatever they were doing seemed to be working; for the most part. Four years ago, a brutal civil war had shook Timbucktoo when a sub-sect of the Shaman Order had tried to seize power. It lasted only a few months though the death toll had still reached into the tens of thousands; though aside from that, the last major conflict had been almost a century ago.

For mares however, family and finances could take on very different meanings; in that they may have no choice in the former, and be considered a part of the latter. There were some exceptions; but, for the most part, every filly in the Zaharren was born as a slave to their father. From their early childhood, they would be expected to help their mothers cooking or doing household chores, and then in their late childhood, they would be sold as a wife.

They would not choose a husband, they would not fall in love, they would be sold for a pile of money to a stallion who might be more than twice her age, who she may have never met before their wedding, and who might be married to three or four mares already! After that the course of their lives was pretty much set; they would do whatever their husbands told them, however he told them, or they would be beaten. They would cook his food, mind his house, bear his children and eventually they would die, never having had the chance to write their own destinies.

Some mares might have a better life then this, but only if the stallions in her life gave it to her. When discussing the ‘bride price’, a girl’s father and prospective husband would draw up a contract of what ‘privileges’ the filly would have; 'privileges' such as… not needing to sleep with her husband if she didn’t want to or, setting limits to how badly he was allowed to beat her. The more ‘privileges’ the filly had however, the lower the bride price would be, and so if her family was poor, if she’d been disobedient or if her father simply didn’t care about her, she was pretty much done for.

Of course, some the great houses had laws in their territories that vaguely resembled defined the anti-abuse laws that every pony took for granted in Equestria. A few houses even required a filly to consent to her marriage; but none considered mares the full equal of a stallion and most saw fillies as nothing more than property to be beaten, sold and raped.

This was the biggest reason why Twilight had always wanted to visit the Zaharren; and the only reason Twilight was glad she had never married. She was a genius world-class spell caster, with full financial independence she’d earned through having been immensely successful in multiple careers in which she’d never worked for a stallion, but had had stallions work for her. Twilight wasn’t exactly sure what she thought she would accomplish, but she carried the vague notion that if zebra mares could see that they didn’t need to be dependent on the stallions in their lives; and if the stallions could see a mare who could outsmart their top professors or flatten a few of their top soldiers, maybe she could change things.

Twilight had thought about it, and had estimated that finding and restoring Ferric would be her best bet. Records on him were a bit sketchy, but although he had been known as something of a philanderer; all of his love affairs had been consensual and overall things had been far better for mares under his rule then without him. The very fact that many of his lovers had been ranking members of his government proved that.

Twilight had thought that maybe if she could find him, not only would she have restored a less chauvinistic stallion to the reins of government, but also demonstrate that one brave mare could succeed in a task where tens of thousands of stallions had failed. Not to mention that if Ferric had been in some kind of prison and she rescued him, he would probably be very grateful, and if her chosen reward was that mares were treated well from now on he would probably grant it.

Come to think of it; he would probably be quite impressed by such a noble gesture; and he’d probably be rather impressed by her heroism and intelligence in finding him in the first place and since she’d been trained by Celestia, and was experienced with immortal stewards, he’d probably like her a lot. Maybe he’d-

Twilight stopped; realizing she was already cantering down the stairs to a rather steamy section of her mind palace’s fantasy wing. Not that Twilight necessarily objected to what was down there, some of it was quite fun, but she’d spent many lonely nights working on those tunnels when she was younger and over the years they’d grown into a complex maze of interconnected scenarios. It was easy to get lost in, and sometimes the doors jammed behind Twilight meaning that once she was down there, it was easy to waste a lot of time. Besides, when she did indulge, she usually came out feeling lonelier than when she’d went in.

Twilight turned, careful not to slip on the on the moist stairs and returned to the Zaharren’s understanding of family, leaving behind Ferric, and a dozen lives that they could have had together. It had been a dream she’d never gone on; she’d planned expeditions to search for him several times, but then something else always came up. The first time, Cadance got sick, and with political instability keeping Shining Armor busy, Twilight dropped everything to help with their kids. The second time, her plans got derailed by Spike’s incident with the diamond dogs and the third time, a professor from the school for gifted unicorns had left on short notice and Celestia had asked Twilight to take his place.

Twilight had to choose between one last adventure with a small chance of success that could lead to changing the world, or a safe, meaningful job she knew she could do that left her with her family and friends she’d neglected for so long. She’d thought it over, talked it over with her friends and family and had never regretted her decision; until now. If Twilight had done something to change the Zaharren years ago, would the buffalo have still attacked Ponyville?

It didn’t matter. She’d made the decisions she’d made, she was in the situation she was in and it was her duty to make it better; that meant preparing for meeting the zebras which meant understanding what they meant by ‘family is everything’.

Twilight warped a connection between the vault of Zaharren culture and her hall of language and stood between them; using the former to began reshaping the definition and then trying to fit it into the holes left to it by the rest of her language, but it didn’t go in. How could zebras say they placed such a high value on family, when half the family was considered property? Twilight tried again, but no matter how she twisted or reshaped her definition, it never became sufficient to accommodate every instance where she had seen the phrase used used.

If Twilight got the definition wrong, it could lead to a misunderstanding and jeopardize the mission, she needed – Twilight felt a light touch on her shoulder and a familiar voice rumbled through the walls of her mind palace.

Not yet.

Twilight needed to get the definition right before waking up; she only needed a few minutes, on the outside world a few seconds, so if Shining Armor would just wait a moment she could finish this. Twilight began hammering the definition out and refolding her interpretation of the Zaharren definition of family, the new definition didn’t work either and so she tried it again, but this was even worse than before. Maybe –

Fuchsia magic washed over her, dissolving the walls of Twilight’s mind palace around her and leaving her work unfinished. The next thing she was aware of was sitting on Point Star’s bunk below decks, with Shining Armor sitting beside her, gently rocking her back into consciousness. “Twily; are you awake?” Twilight opened her eyes slowly, and somehow failed to find the warranted annoyance for having her meditative spell disrupted.

For a while neither spoke; daring the other to break the silence. Shining Armor looked more relaxed than she had seen him for days, but underneath, she knew he was tense. “Do you remember,” He said finally, “When we were foals and you were trying to pair me up with Cadance? You told her that I was the best big brother in the world because I always looked out for you.”

“I remember.”

“That’s what I’m doing now.” Shining Armor passed a scroll to Twilight which he allowed her a moment to examine. “There are three rivers that run almost parallel underneath the desert. Each river is studded with wells creating three natural routes across the desert. We just passed over a village built around a well on the southern route and they sold us this map; it’s old, but they swear to its accuracy. I want you to take this map, and walk home.”

“Why?”

“You don’t belong here.”

“Don’t belong?” Twilight unfolded the cocint on the forearm of her brother’s armor. The small crystal screen flickered; then lit up with three dozen unique signatures, marking the locations of each Sun Guard; allowing Shining Armor to track his team through ultrasonic radar, capable of passing through most forms of wood and stone. “Who invented this?”

Shining Armor didn’t respond because he couldn’t without admitting her contribution. “If you want to be a Sun Guard, you’ll obey your commander. If you want to masquerade as a Zaharren mare then as you’re not married and our father is dead, authority over you passes to me. I’m ordering you to return to Equestria. If you refuse, I will arrest you.

“Why?”

“It’s too dangerous for you to be here.”

“Dangerous?” Twilight snorted. “More dangerous than following a half-crazed Captain of the Royal Guard into the Everfree Forest after Cadance and Storm disappeared?”

“That was different.”

“More dangerous than excavating the remains of a draconequus curiosity factory!? You know that I’ve been in far more danger than I’m in now, with much less at stake and you didn’t try to stop me. I’m not stupid; I know there’s something you’re not telling me. What is so bad about this mission?

“Twily I’m begging you. All your life you’ve been curious and headstrong; just this once, don’t ask questions, just go.”

Twilight looked into her brother’s eyes; she knew that he was hiding something from her; she also knew that in the lifetime she had known him, he had never betrayed her trust. “…Alright.” She muttered with thinly veiled disgust, “I’ll go to Los Pegasus where the reserve forces are gathe-”

“No!”Shining Armor shouted before he could stop himself. Twilight watched him mentally curse himself; then resign himself to continuing; “I need you to leave this desert, and never come back. Go to Canterlot, stay with Cadance, write a book, I don’t care; do anything you want just don’t be here.”

Shining Armor’s charade was crumbling around him; one solid blow would shatter it to pieces. Twilight gently places her hoof over his, and softened her gaze; “… If there’s something you need to tell me; I can keep a secret.” She cast a silencing spell over the room, “I promise that the rest of this conversation will not leave this room. Why do you want me to leave?”

“… If I tell you; you’ll go?”

Twilight nodded and a faint smile creased Shining Armor’s lips then faded into a sigh as he turned to face the wall; “Do you trust me when I say I love you Twilight?”

“With my life.”

“What about Princess Celestia, do you trust her.”

“Even more so.”

“What about Cadance, Apple Jack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Silent Storm, and Spike; do you trust them?”

“Yes.”

“Then please believe me when I tell you, that we’ve all been lying to you, for a long time, for your own protection.” He breathed deeply, “Twenty years ago, you came to the Zaharren, and some very bad things happened. You didn’t know how to deal with it and so you tried to kill yourself; that’s how you got the scars. We couldn’t find any other way to help you, so Celestia and I combined our magics and blocked two and a half years from your memory.”

Twilight was dumbfounded; she also didn’t believe him. The scars she had were different ages, they’d been inflicted different ways, there was no way they could have been from attempted suicide unless “… how many times did-?”

“Seventy-four.” growled Shining Armor; predicting her question; “…You were very determined.”

“No.” Said Twilight after a moment, “I don’t believe it. I couldn’t have gotten that low; you wouldn’t have let me.”

“Me?” Shining Armor turned slowly to face her, “You hated me.”

“Don't say that; I could never hate you.”

“You tried to kill me! And when you failed, when Celestia was holding you back, you looked me dead in the eyes and you promised that if you ever got the chance, you would kill me in the most painful way you knew how, and I knew you meant it.”

"... and that’s when you started drinking?"

Shining Armor said nothing, betraying his guilt, “The mind block we put on you is stronger than the one Celestia gave Derpy, but I don’t know how strong it is or what could be a trigger so I don’t want you to risk anything you don’t have to; I don’t want you seeing zebras, I don’t want you hearing their language, I don’t want you in their desert ever again.”

What Shining Armor was describing did not make sense; but if Shining Armor was going to lie to her to make her leave, this wasn’t the lie he would make. He was staring at her anxiously, trusting desperately that she would keep her end of the promise, unwilling to accept any other reply. “… If whatever happened left me hating the people I love most and trying to kill myself… I don’t want to remember. I’ll go back to Equestria.”

Shining Armor turned and drew her into a tight hug, “Thank you!”

Chapter Four >>> Full Circle

Author's Note

Deleted Scene - The Scenic Route

4 - Full Circle

Gale force sands were rippling over Twilight’s head; her mouth was parched and magic waning as she struggled to maintain the feeble magical barrier around her.

The map that Shining Armor had bought for her had been very old, but by Twilight’s experiences so far, very accurate. Although the Zaharren was dry as bone on the surface, three great rivers that originated in the mountains that made Equestria’s western border and coursed through the desert, each dotted intermittently by wells, with stone markers every few kilometers so travelers wouldn’t get lost. In earlier times, each well sustained a small village around it; which sold water to passing caravans to supplement their incomes. When the trade routes dried up, most of the desert tribes remained on their ancestral lands, growing what food they could from their wells. The tribes were almost exclusively earth zebras; and most of them kept their tradition of immovably interlocked families, but aside from that there were no unwavering similarities to the zebras of Timbucktoo or one from another.

That was what made them so interesting.

One desert tribe’s stallions might treat mares as slaves, another as equals, one tribe might be ruled by a chief, another by a council of elders, one tribe may be atheistic, another fiercely religious, all living in three parallel lines that crossed the desert. That said, living in one of the most inhospitable places on earth, forged hard, and often inhospitable zebras; if one tribes crops failed, they might have no choice but to raid their neighbors and so all the remaining tribes had a reputation as fierce warriors.

With barely two or three travelers passing through a tribe’s territory a year, it was entirely possible that some tribes would be mistrustful or hostile towards outsiders, and so Twilight had kept her mind’s Zaharren setting for the time being, but still needed to be careful. The first well Twilight passed was inhabited; Twilight paid the price the zebras demanded for their water without haggling, filled her canteens and left. The second well was uninhabited, but was still open with a bucket and winch and Twilight spent the night. The next morning Twilight continued her journey, and believing she was nearing the next well, began being liberal with her water; when she found the third well, it was long since deserted and had caved in on itself. Twilight was faced with the dilemma of trying to dig through an uncertain amount of unstable sand, trying to cut the next thirty miles east on a third of a canteen or cut northwards into the center-river route, the closest of which should only be about twelve miles away.

The tribes of the central route had more savage reputations than their northern or southern neighbors, mostly because they had twice as many neighbors; doubling their chances to raid or be raided. Shining Armor had emphatically insisted that Twilight avoid the central route at all costs; but Twilight knew she could defend herself against a whole tribe of earth zebras if she needed to, and opted for trying to cut the central route; and now regretted it.

For most of her life, Twilight had been an expert navigator, and was good at pacing off miles… on solid ground, but as the sand groaned beneath her feet, Twilight realized her steps were carrying her less far than they should and compensated… a little too much.

She marched on; trying to find any sort of landmark, but all she could see was sand, sand and more sand in endless hills. When her canteen was down to its last drop, Twilight was forced to conclude she had overshot her target, and was now somewhere between the central and northern well lines. Ordinarily she would have double backed towards the central well line, but the strong north wind seemed to make the idea of continuing north a better idea. Twilight had been in deserts before, and knew a spell to cool her, meaning she used less water to sweat, but it only slowed the process, and if she didn’t find a well within the next day or two, all she would have done is bought herself a more painful death.

The only good thing about any of this was that it was a distraction. Of course Twilight was curious about what Shining Armor had told her, anyone would have been, but she’d given her word not to pursue it. She’d locked her curiosity in the deepest cellar she knew how, but it had been roaring for release ever since, barely contained by chains forged from her trust in Celestia, Shining Armor, and her friends; and her unshakable belief that they would not lie to her, unless it was absolutely necessary. In her current state of dehydration, even her curiosity was too tired to yell anymore, and finding water had become the first and only thing on her mind.

That wind grew stronger by the hour as Twilight began to falter; it festered into a sandstorm, blocking all visibility. Twilight knew that traveling in sandstorms was dangerous, but she also knew they could last for days and without water she wasn’t sure she could survive that long, especially holding her energy shield to prevent herself being sandblasted into oblivion. She was certain she had to be close to one of the northern wells, if it wasn't for the sandstorm she could probably see one but hadn’t the faintest idea which direction, to go. Twilight forced herself to continue, clinging to her last, desperate hope that she would find an oasis of life giving water.

Ahead of her; Twilight could see what looked like a large rock. She knew that she had to keep going, but the thought of being able to lean against it, just for a few minutes, out of the wind was too much of a temptation. A few more steps brought the howling wind to an end, but when Twilight turned to face the rock, she was facing into the entrance of a cave.

Inside it was cool, and quiet, and she would be able to let go the endless pressure of keeping her shield up. She needed to rest; just for a few hours and if, no when, she woke up she would force herself to go on. Twilight scrambled over the thin ledge into the cave, and oblivion claimed her in less than a minute.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Twilight woke, her mouth parched and head pounding from lack of water. Opening one eye she realized that the storm had ended, and the sun was beating down on her through the opening in the cave. The thought of rolling over and going back to sleep was almost overwhelming, but that could have been a death sentence. Her only hope to survive was to leave now.

Twilight rolled weakly to her hooves, letting her breath out with a sigh, then suddenly caught it again when she looked up; and not three meters away was what could have been the opening to a well. Daring to hope, she scrambled out of the cave and down a sandy slope to the edge of the hole, greeted by the distant, glorious gurgle of rushing water.

Twilight looked around for a bucket, a rope, anything; but there was nothing. Her only option was to lower her canteen down in her magic, into a raging river a hundred meters below. If she lost her grip, her canteen would be ripped from her grasp and then she would die. If Twilight was at full strength, this would have been easy; dehydrated as she was; she had maybe a fifty, fifty chance.

She didn’t have a choice.

Twilight lowered her canteen, aiming for the middle of the river, certain it would be whisked away at any moment, but her hold remained true and seconds later the canteen was ascending rapidly towards her. She gulped down its water, feeling the life-giving liquid flow through her.

After a few minutes; Twilight confidently lowered her canteen a second time, and this time had the strength to wonder why the pull of the river was only a fraction of what it should have been. There was an iron hook that hung over the edge of the well and so, after testing its strength, Twilight used it to lean over the opening and cast a light into the recesses of the well.

In the center of the river was a huge stone, fashioned into a massive plough, funneling the river off to the sides. Above the boulder, a narrow tree trunk had been suspended horizontally, on one end were little metal shards from where something had been broken off, and on the other side was a water wheel, still spinning furiously under the focused water pressure provided by the boulder.

So someone had harnessed water power, but what purpose Twilight couldn't… she noticed another hook near the spinning wheel, identical to the one she was now standing on. Twilight took a step back, and looked over her shoulder to see a third hook, jutting out from above the entrance of the… cave?

Twilight walked back up the hill and made a slow lap around where she had spent the night, and began clearing the sand away from its base. Except for the hole at the top she’d climbed through; it was a perfect cylinder, about one and a half meters across, three meters tall, hollow, and definitely made of concrete. It was mostly full of sand but otherwise seemed like it had been laid yesterday and a quick test confirmed that the concrete had been infused with powerful preservation magic. In a village of earth ponies; who could have built this, and why… unless – Twilight looked back to the well and imagined a rope connecting each of the three hooks and suddenly the purpose for all three became clear.

In the other villages, she had passed; all water had to be drawn to the surface by a mouth crank, for drinking, washing and watering the tribe’s crops. The first two would have made life hard enough, but growing enough food for the tribe under a relentless sun would require hundreds of buckets a day; easily consuming most of the time, of most of the family. Whoever had lived here had been a lot smarter; by harnessing the power of the river below, they could have made a pulley system, studded with buckets drawing water constantly into… the concrete cyl - it was a water tank!

Twilight skipped over to the water tank, noticing for the first time a set of, now blocked, holes right below the entrance. If these were fitted with pipes and spread over the surrounding area… of course! The water tank didn’t just refill itself, but as more water was poured in, it would overflow into pipes and be dispersed to the surrounding field making a fully automated farm, right in the middle of the desert!

Twilight’s curiosity was going for a walk and taking her along with it. Whoever built this was definitely not just some random unicorn that stopped here for a day and decided to make a farm. Someone had spent a lot of time and effort making this, someone smart, and moving the wedge shaped bolder in place, to help power the water wheel, would have required a unicorn with an MQ of about five hundred, at least. But who were they? Why did they leave? Did they abandon their home willingly or where they driven by force… or were they killed? Did they leave any magical artifacts behind?

No one in Equestria was expecting Twilight anytime soon and she had more than enough food to spend the day excavating the area, so that’s exactly what she did. Most desert villages were built with the crops around the well and the houses in a wide circle around them, to prevent thieves stealing their food. Twilight paced off about sixty yards for farmland and then began searching for signs for dwellings.

She found them.

Most of what she found wouldn't have looked like much to an untrained eye, a tent peg, a broken pole, a rug… but to the eyes of an expert archaeologist these were keys to the past. Most of the ruins seemed to be missing however, suggesting either whoever lived here left, taking everything they had with them, or scavengers had come, stripping the village to the bone, but the bone was all Twilight needed. After about four rudimentary items she could safely determine that this village was abandoned suddenly about… twenty years ago.

Twilight continued her search, so far disappointed in her offbeat chance for magical artifacts; her attention was arrested by a grouping of rounded stones, peeping out from underneath the sand. Taking the care of a master craftspony and the eagerness of a school filly on her first date (not that Twilight knew that feeling). Twilight lowered the sand level away until she revealed several rows of tombstones.

Mutra ()
Rice grower
November 3 969 - August, 8, 1005
Loving husband of Yitilla

Yitilla )(
Cook
May 12 973 - August, 8, 1005
Adored wife of Mutra

Twilight counted at least twenty tombstones, walking up and down their uneven rows. They all died on the same day, the eighth of August, but the tombstones didn't say who or what killed them. The tombstones had all been chiseled out quickly and in some places almost sloppily which was strange given the reverence most zebra families gave to their dead. They were also all unquestionably chiseled out by earth ponies, meaning whatever unicorn had built the water tank, had already left or died. Maybe they were killed by whatever killed everyone else?

Everyone died on the eighth of August, 1005, coinciding with Twilight’s earlier estimate of the desertion of the village, the tombstones implied that instead of leaving, the tribe was wiped out, but then where were the children? Everyone in this cemetery was in their late teens at least. Had slavers attacked the village, killed the adults and taken the foals as plunder? But then who buried the bodies?

Twilight kept looking, her mind moving in a dozen directions at once as her curiosity swooned and danced. There was just one tombstone left and Twilight trotted over to it. Only the name was visible, but even that was enough to tell Twilight that the carving was deeper, and more precise than the hurried scratches left on the other tombstones. A chieftain perhaps? Twilight used her magic to shift the sand away to read it; and didn't move again until nightfall; her breath coming in steady pants and her eyes fixated on the last line, carved an inch deep with flawless precision that could have only come from of an alpha unicorn.

Zohan ()
Painter
6 June 974 - August 7, 1005
LOVING HUSBAND OF TWILIGHT SPARKLE

Chapter Five >>> Blackout

5 - Blackout

WARNING!!!

If you haven't read Storm of Secrets Storm of Secrets Remastered , but intend to, this chapter contains major plot spoilers, and isn't crucial for understanding Limits of the Horizon.

You can read a very comprehensive Summary of Storm Of Secrets here.

Alternatively, you could just skip this chapter and move onto chapter 6 to begin the story of Storm and Rainbow Dash's kids, or you can skip to chapter chapter 9 to continue Twilight's story.

Storm walked into a bar. Seventeen years in the Everfree Forest had accustomed his eyes to quickly adjust in dim light; and living homeless as a foal had accustomed him to dank, sullen places like this, designed to suck optimism out of patrons, breeding despondency to be smothered in alcohol or vented on a whore. It would have been a high-risk, high return errand for him to scavenge some food while Silver hid somewhere outside. Tonight, his quarry was only too easy to spot, and he wished he could just leave it here; he could barely even look at it.

“Can I get you anything?” A thin unicorn mare was standing next to him, holding a bottle of something out to him; she was arguably pretty, but Storm got the impression she was a older then she looked. Storm indicated to the sodden damp mess of unicorn half-sitting at, half-laying on one of the back tables surrounded by a myriad of empty mugs, “How long has he been here.”

The waitress shrugged, “I dunno, I began my shift at six, he was already here.”

Storm checked the grease-covered grandfather clock that had been shoved in the corner, forced to watch the debauchery of the current generation, the time was half-past midnight. “How much has he had?”

The waitress shrugged again, “Fifteen, twenty, something like that, he’s been mixing his drinks too.”

“Has he had anything to eat?”

“A few sandwiches and some nuts, nothing in the last few hours.”

Storm noticed the waitress had moved a bit closed to him, leaning like she was about to nuzzle his neck; Storm pushed her back. She looked confused for a moment and then glanced back at the white unicorn like her mind was trying to connect some dots, “Oh, you two are-”

Storm brushed past her, not bothering to try and educate her shallow mind, but grateful that she didn’t have contradictory evidence from Shining Armor. He was annoyed enough about leaving Dashie this late, with her expecting the twins any day now, he just wanted to finish this quickly. Storm stepped into the narrow seat opposite Shining Armor, cast a sound bubble over them and waited for acknowledgement which he accepted as being the bloodshot glare Shining Armor cast at him after a few minutes of nursing a drink.

“Are you trying to kill yourself with alcohol poisoning?”

“Woulds make Twily happy.” Mumbled Shining Armor, “No, wait, it wouldn’t; she wants to kill me herrself.”

“Really?”

"Eerup. Tolds me herrself this afternoon, shouted it athually.”

“What happened then?”

Shining Armor vaguely gestured to the room around them; “Decideds to do some uncover invechigation.”

“A little birdie told me that something else happened before you disappeared.”

Shining Armor looked confused, “Birdie?”

“It was a dove.” Hinted Storm; “…named Hope,” Shining Armor’s eyes remained dead, “Cadance’s pet dove.”

A glint of anger entered Shining Armor’s eye, “Have you been seeing my wife behind my back?”

Storm resisted the urge of punching Shining Armor by reminding himself that he wouldn’t be here if Shining Armor was alright; “Cadance isn’t cheating on you, though I wouldn’t blame her if she did; but it wouldn’t be with me. Dashie would kill me.”

“So why did she send Hope?”

“To ask me to find you. She was afraid she’d be right about where you were, and wanted you to be found off record. Iron Will would draw too much attention, and she knew that a six month pregnant princess shouldn’t be searching places like this alone.”

Shining Armor took a slow swig of ale, “Youv found me, now whhat?”

“Now, you’re going to tell someone else what happened after Twilight tried to kill you.”

“Classtified.” mumbled Shining Armor.

“I was there when this began; I have clearance to observing the aftermath.”

“That’s right.” growled Shining Armor, “You werre there. Yu helped. You’re guilty. So was Cadance, Raienbow Dash and all the othurs. We all did it, it was all of us.”

“True.” But it was mostly Shining Armor.

“But she blammes me,” continued Shining Armor, “She h-hates me. I thought that the last few months with Cellestia had actually helped her get betder; but she just wanted to stab me and when she couldn’t she-”

“She what?”

“She triedd to killl herrself again,” whimpered Shining Armor, “She had a piece of glass behind her teeth and when she knew she couldn’t get me she tried cut-ting her throat from the in-s-side.” A tear mixed itself with the ale beneath it.

“What happened after Twilight tried to kill herself?”

“Nothing.”

“What happened?”

“I left!”

“What did Celestia ask you to do?”

Shining Armor glared hatefully at him, his eyes simultaneously filling with tears, “Whyare yu asking if you already know?”

“Because you need to hear yourself say it.” Shining Armor didn’t say anything, “Celestia doesn’t like it anymore than you do.” Still no answer, “… Are you going to do it?”

One tear trickled from each of Shining Armor’s eyes, as he finally gave a slow nod, setting his head down on a half-empty mug, “I don’t have a choice do I.”

“It will be over soon. Celestia is working on another spell to block Twilight’s memories again. She’ll forget everything that happened to her and this will all be like a bad dream that only we remember. With luck; it would be ready in time for Twilight to remember the birth of your third kid; the question is whether you’re going to remember the birth of your child, or if you’re going to be too drunk to care.”

Shining Armor stared off into space sipping his drink like he was trying to ignore Storm.

“I know what you’re going through; the same thing happened with me and Silver.”

Shining Armor slammed his mug on the table; “This is nothing like what happened with you and Silverr! You just killed her once and then it was over, this is like watching Twily die every single day, over and over again. She’s tried to kill herself twenty-three times already and sooner or later she’ll succeed. Have you heard the thing’s she’s saying, the things she’s accusing me of!?”

If anyone else in the world had said that to Storm; they’d be dead. Strom chose his words and his tone very carefully. “I did not just kill Silver Thorn once; the terrormongers that tricked me that day passed those images onto the rest of their kind. After that I stopped caring if I died, there was nothing I was afraid of and the only thing they could do to me that got a useful response was to show me killing Silver over and over and over.

Over time, they changed it; constantly, keeping just enough truth in it that I couldn’t shake the whole thing off as a lie. They added things, making it look like I knew it was her, and they made up all sorts of reasons as to why I did it; one of their favorites was to say that I had been molesting her since we were foals, and I killed her when she said she wouldn’t take it anymore. So yes, I do know what you’re going through.”

“Well how’d you get through it?”

“I spent five years on the front lines of the Everfree Forest, throwing myself into battle, trying to kill myself. You have a wife, two foals and third one the way; you don’t have that option.”

“… Then we’re not going through the same thing.”

Storm slammed his hoof onto the table, making Shining Armor cringe; “You think you’re the only one who loves Twilight!? You’re not. You’re right in saying that we’re all responsible for what happened to her, but you’re forgetting that Cadence, Spike, me, Dashie-”

“You?” growled Shining Armor cynically, “You harvdly know her. You’d met her what, all of a dozen times before she went missing?”

Storm grit his teeth together, holding down a wave of grief and anger; yes, him. He loved Twilight. When Storm body swapped with Shining Armor, he thought he was Shining Armor, feeling everything that he had; the swap back had not been absolute, memories still lingered and while Dashie had filled the void that losing Cadance had created, but Storm had never stopped thinking of Twilight as his little sister, and even to this day needed to make conscious effort to prevent himself from calling her Twily. He’d never told anyone except for Dashie, but he would do anything for Twilight, notwithstanding killing her or murdering Shining Armor.

“… Cadance is hurting from what happened to Twilight as much as you are, and you’re making it worse for her by doing this. When I thought I was you, you practically dragged me out of your body so you could have her back. I remember feeling the love you had for her then, and I still care about her. If you don’t pull yourself together, you’re going to hurt her even more than Twilight is. She loves you too much to leave you, and so I’ll kill you to get you out of her life.”

“Whatever,” grunted Shining Armor.

Storm unsheathed a knife and set it down on the table, spinning it like a top; “You know what I used to do to the changelings I captured, to get information about enemy placement. I tried to teach you once, when we were cadets, you watched for about three hours and then ran out when the changeling started pleading for me to kill it. When I was alone in the forest, I learned how to keep the stubborn ones alive for about four days. I will do worse to you.”

Shining Armor slowly looked up from his drink, a faint shadow of fear passed through his eyes and then he broke into a contorted chuckle; “You could invite Twily! You could teach her how to do it on me; she’d love you for it!”

Storm very slowly sheathed his knife “You have one year, starting tonight. If you haven’t pulled yourself together by then, I will kill you.”

Shining Armor reached for another mug of ale, but somewhere between lifting it to his lips it vanished and reappeared back on the table. Shining Armor’s hoof stopped in midair, wondering why it was empty then seeing his mug back on the table he reached for it again, a few inches from his lips the mug disappeared and materialized back on the table, the ale in it swishing sloppily. Shining Armor stared at it for several moments trying to contemplate the disobedient mug, and then as quickly as he could, he reached for it with both hooves, tipping his mouth back to scull the drink before it ran away again. Storm’s horn flashed for a third time, this time only the cup vanished, and the ale proceeded to splash across his face, precious few drops finding their way to his mouth. Storm levitated what looked like a mostly clean napkin from the main bench and, despite limited cooperation, managed to wipe Shining Armor’s eyes out. As soon as he was finished, Shining Armor was glaring at him menacingly, “What are you doen?”

“You’ve had too much already.”

“You wanna fight then, come on.”

Shining Armor managed to slide out from behind the table and instantly began teetering to the right as he struggled to maintain his balance. Storm sighed, glad for the safety of Canterlot that alcohol inhibited magic, and used a faint telekinetic kick to help Shining Armor fall over.

The next table over, a stallion was reveling in the attentions of the waitress as her one of her hooves fondled his girth next to his moneybag; Shining Armor fell into both on his way to the floor. The stallion noticed the bump as Shining Armor knocked gently against his table and looked down on him in disdain, “Pathetic.”

The next thing that stallion knew, he was flat on his back, his arm twisted beneath him, his head echoing from colliding with the concrete, a jagged hoof dug deep his throat and two red eyes were glaring into his, “When you’ve survived half of what he has; you’ll have earned the right to speak like that.”

Storm let the stallion go, before he hurt him and turned back to Shining Armor who was snoring soundly on the bar floor and used his magic to pick up Shining Armor, draping him over his back. Storm had almost made it to the door when his shoulder began feeling exceptionally wet, and wished Shining Armor had emptied his bladder more recently; somehow, he managed not to drop him.

Storm couldn’t take Shining Armor home like this. Neither Cadence, Clastic Strain, nor Benefair needed to see him like this; so Storm started walking towards a cheap hotel at the end of the street where he could dump him for the night. He could be home with Dashie in an hour and then send Hope back to Cadance.

Chapter Six >>> Youtherd

Author's Note

I might have overemphasized Storm’s temper here, but I’ll remind you that someone he loves as a little sister just tried to kill herself today. He’s also grieving, just differently from Shining Armor. I think Storm would have killed Shining Armor eventually if he remained an alcoholic, but threatening to torture him was more to get a response.

I admit I don't have much experience with drunks, so if I've done this wrong plz tell me.

6 - Youtherd

Sky Fire’s lips moved gently over Epiphany Dazzle’s, counting her teeth one by one and tasting her blackberry lip gloss as he leaned deeper into the kiss. The grass was moist with dew under their hooves, protected from the morning sun by swaying branches of the fragrant trees, which now scattered dappled sunlight over the skins of the young lovers, as the wind kissed the sweat from their bodies and he kissed his goodbye.

There was also some guy who was trying to kill him.

Charging him from the right was some muscular earth pony colt who was cursing something about Sky Fire having slept with his fillyfriend. So far he hadn’t given a name, so Sky Fire wasn’t exactly sure who he was talking about, but it was probably that pegasus he did two nights ago, who’d mentioned her coltfriend had cheated on her and wanted to get even.

Dazzle turned her head to look at the colt but Sky Fire gently bit down on her lip to keep her facing him, and then wrapped his wing around both their faces, blotting out her sight of the attacker. Of course, this also blocked Sky Fire’s sight, but he didn’t need it. The earth pony was making enough noise to go by and so at just the right time, Sky Fire aimed a side kick an inch above the source of the cursing, let his leg retract, to avoid breaking the colts muzzle, then pushed back, throwing the colt to the ground unharmed.

Sky Fire picked a piece of celery from between Dazzle’s teeth, then used his tongue to block the roof of his mouth and then breathed in deeply through Dazzle’s nose, before bringing his wing back hitting the earth pony across the face. As the colt stumbled, Sky Fire grabbed the guy’s knee with his forehoof and pulled it out from under him; rolling him to the ground.

Dazzle pulled away for real this time; “Do you need a minute to take care of this?”

“No” quipped Sky Fire kissing her again, “I’m good.”

The earth pony picked himself up, and pelted a rock towards Sky Fire. His aim was way off, but would have come just close enough to hitting Dazzle that it justified Sky Fire pushing her to the wet grass and landing on top of her as he ‘shoved her out of the way’. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Sky Fire leaned in for another kiss but this time Dazzle pushed him off and stood up “… I’ll see you later.” She almost hissed as she turned and began trotting away.

“I’ll miss you!” he called after her. Sky Fire watched her flank disappear into the trees and sighed in disappointment, then turned on the earth pony who was stubbornly charging him for the final time. Sky Fire gave a low sweep with his wing, knocking the earth pony off his hooves, then, just as he was about to hit the ground, Sky Fire grabbed the colt by the ankles and spun him through a five hundred-seventy degree angle, before hurdling him into a nearby pond where he made an impressive splash of water and a satisfying squeak of despair.

Hovering triumphant, Sky Fire listened to the excited gasps from the two fillies behind him who had been watching from a hill, just outside of ear-shot, who he’d been pretended not to notice until now. He could have dealt with that colt hours ago, when he first showed up, and then gone to meet Dazzle. Even after the colt appeared the second time, Sky Fire could have still done things in a way that would have included him doing Dazzle who rated seven-point-two on the richter scale; but that would have done nothing for the spectators, one of whom looked like an eight-point-three and the other was pushing nine.

Dazzle was mad, she understood what an open relationship meant, but even she liked to at least pretend she had his undivided attention when they were together. Still, when Sky Fire got back from holiday in two weeks she’d forgive him and these two new fillies would have marinated in their curiosity and be just ripe for the picking.

He just needed to finish their appetizer.

After watching the earth pony crawl out of the pond and cast a hateful glare at him; Sky Fire took to the air and made a slow pass over the fillies. The eight-point-three averted her eyes, and probably wouldn’t make for good company, but her friend was doing a hopeless job pretending not to stare as he showed her everything he had to offer. A moment was all it took for him to memorize her soft green face, outlined by a lively amber mane. If he saw her again he would know, and as for her - the rainbow mane was pretty distinctive and so was the physique that shamed most professional athletes, wrapped in gorgeous blood-red fur. Sky Fire climbed higher and maneuvered a subtle salute, just clear enough to make her wonder whether or not she had imagined it as the shallow tree line of Canterlot’s botanical gardens gave way to the clock tower and-

Hayfries; he was late!

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Daring Do stood with her wings tied to her back and legs chained to the podium; surrounded by hundreds of mountain gorillas, waiting to tear her limb from limb. The air was thick with hatred permeating from their every breath, but not one of them moved or made a sound, sitting in reverent fear for The Mad Ape King, Geronimo, who sat high on his granite throne, examining Daring’s equipment piece by piece, before throwing it in a pile on the ground.

Ordinarily Daring would have tried lying her way out of this, telling a story that was more believable then the truth, a truth which she herself just barely believed; but she couldn't. To her right stood a tall gray unicorn stallion with a lasso cutie-mark; the renown sheriff Straight Way. He was the one who had hunted her for a month in a race across continents, finally catching her last week in a triple cross in the Ephrentine Palace. He was the one who had brought her here, to be tried and executed by The Mad Ape King and his people; he was the reason that lying here meant certain death… and he was her only hope for survival.

Straight Way had studied Daring; he knew her methods, habits, strengths and weaknesses, and she had studied him just as closely. She knew the value that he placed on justice, that he would never let an innocent person be condemned, or a guilty one go free. He knew her side of the story, and for one moment, he had almost believed her, but then Jeopardous Zeal came and ruined everything.

While he was taking her here, Daring had tried again to convince Straight Way of the truth, and she knew that he was questioning his own judgment. If she told the truth now, there was a chance, just a chance that he would believe her again, and then maybe he could find a way to help her. But if she deviated from her story, even in the slightest, he would lose all faith in her, she would die, Straight Way would never know the truth until it was too late, and Jeopardous Zeal would win.

Geronimo tossed aside Daring’s lock picks and lifted her boomerang high for all to see. “What is this?”

“That’s… my boomerang;” said Daring hesitantly, “It was given to me by the governor of Saddle Arabia for rescuing his son from brigades. It’s enchanted with accuracy, and to increase the strength of its wilder. I use it to test for booby traps when exploring tombs and… I have used it in self-defense.”

“How many of my people have you murdered with this?”

“None.”

“What’s wrong Jeopardy? Did you never get the chance to use your latest stolen booty; you were so busy burning villages and selling my people as slaves!?”

“I’m not Jeopardous Zeal!” pleaded Daring desperately, “My name is Daring Do; Jeopardous Zeal is my twin sister! We were separated at birth; she was raised by our father, Warlord Spoil, I was raised in Equestria by who I thought were my real parents. I didn’t know she existed until three weeks ago, when I encountered some of her soldiers and they mistook me for her.”

The assembly was silent and then all at once the gorillas began howling demands for her blood while their king sat in silence, his frown pulling his mohawk forewords like a blade. After letting his people make their demand clear Geronimo raised one fist, and the auditorium grew silent; “Do you have any proof?”

Daring trembled, looking sideways to Straight Way who shifted uncomfortably, knowing as well as she did that the only thing that came close to evidence lay at the bottom of the river, “… No.”

The Mad Ape King slammed his fist on the armrest of his throne, cracking it. “I usually pity the fools who find themselves in my court. I pity the thief who got caught after losing his job. I pity the kid prankster who got someone hurt. But you’re not a fool Jeopardy, and I don’t pity you!” The Mad Ape King rose and began descending the stairs of his throne, calling out to his vengeance starved people; “Jeopardous Zeal, and her army of Snare Blades, have robbed our mothers! They’ve murdered our brothers! They’ve taken our kids, and used them as slaves! SHE WILL PAY!”

The gorillas began roaring a contorted babble of threats and verdicts until one constant chant came to drown out the rest; “Death! Death! Death! Death!” If the guerrillas and their allies thought Jeopardy was dead, she could fake the disbandment of her Snare Blades, and everyone would believe that the war was over. “Death! Death!” Jeopardous Zeal had the dagger of Jintun, stolen from the Giraffadie prophets, which granted its wielder glimpses of the future. All she needed was time to master its power. “Death! Death!” When she did strike; it would be too late. “Death! Death!” The Alliance would crumble. “Death! Death!” The Snare Blades would be unstoppable. “Death! Death!” Jeopardous Zeal would be invincible. "Death! Death!” The world would fall. “Death! Death! Death! Death!”

The gorillas had picked up stones and began banging them together in time with their chant, waiting for their king to give the order. “Death! Death! Death! Death!” Daring looking up, and found herself looking into the eyes of Straight Way his blond and crimson mane bristling in the breeze around eyes which showed equal measures of sorrow and regret. Could he not see her for who she really was? “Death! Death!”

“Straight Way” she whispered, unsure if her trembling voice carried above the pounding rocks, let alone her own beating heart, “Help me.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Tungsten flipped the page to the next chapter. He knew what happened next, mom had read him the series when he was a kid, and he’d read it for himself a few years ago, but that didn't stop this third trek through Daring Do’s adventures being his most enjoyable yet.

Tungsten started reading again, but before The Mad Ape King realized he’d been tricked, the words all suddenly got bigger as his book stopped moving but he didn’t. Not being the first time he’d walked into someone while reading, Tungsten stopped in time to only give the other pony a minor bump. He looked up, hoping it wasn’t someone annoying and was glad it was only Star Streak. “Hi Tungsten.” Called the black pegasus, without looking up.

“Hey Star Streak.”

Star Strike looked down at the book that had fallen to the floor, “Daring Do and The Family Lies. I thought’s you’d read that already; or are you working on some kind of project for Daringcon at Youtherd?”

Tungsten snatched his book up off the floor with his magic, “I like reading them again, there’s so much hidden in them that you don’t see the first time; allusions, foreshadowing, stuff like that.”

“You know you can just watch the movies, right?”

Tungsten snorted, “They butchered the movies. They took out all the really cool stuff to make them shorter, and then filled them back up again with junk that doesn’t even make sense!”

“Whatever” sighed Star Streak, “The point of movies is to entertain; nothing more.”

“Oh yea? What if one day the fate of the world rests on the accuracy of the Daring Do, book to movie translations?”

Star Streak screwed up his face, “How would that happen?”

Tungsten thought furiously for a moment, searching his mind for that precious scenario with which he could answer his rival's challenge, “…You’re right; that is a bit of a long shot.”

“Whatever.”

“See you at Youtherd?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” said Star Streak, turning back to his locker.

Tungsten tucked his book back in into his saddlebags; walked down the hall to his own locker and withdrew three bags, each already packed for the holidays. The first was a bug-out bag; small, light, and packed with an arsenal of highly versatile tools, first aid, concentrated rations and water flask. Tungsten had only ever needed this bag once, but he’d always had it, and his parents got mad if he left it at home or used the stuff for something he wasn’t supposed to, (especially the super glue).

The second bag was considerably heavier; stuffed with games, comics, magazines, bits and treats for Youthherd. The third bag was a sack that had been slowly swelling since the start of the school year, packed with all the old homework, tests and schoolbooks he didn’t need anymore. Tungsten knew it wasn’t as much as the older kids would have, but it would still make some nice fuel for the bonfire.

After shoving the final doomed convicts into the sack, Tungsten withdrew all three bags, and refilled his locker with the schoolbooks he’d been carrying; neatly stacking them with his, quite pleasing, end of year report card on the top, for when dad came by to pick his books up later. He cantered to the front of the school to a rose red pegasus with a rainbow streaked mane who was waiting for him. “Hey Tungsten” she smiled, “Ready to go?”

“You bet Sky Blaze.” Tungsten fell in beside his sister and started walking to the train station. He'd hoped that it would be Sky Fire who was waiting for him, but understood that he was probably busy doing someone important; besides Sky Blaze was just as cool to hang out with as Sky Fire, just not awesome like he was, even though they were twins. Sky Fire always said that Sky Blaze was awesome but in a boring sort of way and Tungsten pretended he didn't know what that meant because otherwise Sky Blaze would start arguing with Sky Fire and become a nagging prude. (See? Totally un-awesome.)

Tungsten on the other hoof was awesome, (or at least he was going to be,) but he wasn’t nearly as cool as either of his older siblings. His coat red was like theirs but he wasn’t as smart or as good at fighting as they were, his mane was a stupid pale grey instead of rainbow, and on top of all that, he was just a unicorn.

He was still cool though; definitely the coolest kid in his class and one of the few that was going to be at Youtherd this year! The unofficial rules said you should be at least fifteen to go there for the holidays, and Tungsten was only twelve; but no one really kept track and so if you had an older sibling who was willing to take you, you could go!

Youtherd was the greatest party in Equestria; held every year in Ponyville for anyone in high school or early college, celebrating the end of the school year. Tungsten had heard about all the awesome stuff that happened at the concerts, sport events, advanced screenings of new movies, carnivals and circuses that visited and now he was finally going to get to see them!

Tungsten was looking forewords to the sport events, especially the flying, because he would get to watch Sky Fire and Sky Blaze beat everybody; unless Sky Fire was too busy banging fillies. If that happened, Sky Blaze would win everything, since she wouldn’t be distracted banging colts, because she was boring.

The best part about Youtherd was definitely going to be huge Daringcon expo they were having. Sky Fire had promised to go with him and that meant he would because Sky Fire always kept his promises, (at least to his little bro.)

…Where was he?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sky Blaze trotted besides Tungsten towards the train station; her eyes vainly scanning the crowded sky for an even vainer pegasus lothario. It wasn't that Sky Blaze had any problem with taking Tungsten to Ponyville herself and letting Sky Fire take the next train. By virtually every measure, she would prefer going without him, but she still wished he were here. Sky Fire had promised Tungsten he would be here and, until now, Tungsten had been the only person left who Sky Fire wouldn't break a promise to if it meant a chance at getting laid.

It was bad enough trying to guess how many hearts Sky Fire had broken or how he was undermining his own chances of having an actual relationship someday, but the worst part was that Tungsten was probably going to accept this. If Sky Fire didn't show, Tungsten might be a bit peeved at first, but Sky Fire would never admit to having been wrong, Tungsten would never disagree with anything Sky Fire said so he'd learn that no promise was sacred so long as breaking it meant getting under some poor girl's tail. It was a lesson Sky Blaze was sure Tungsten would employ later on in life, probably much younger than Sky Fire had been when he first even considered it.

Maybe this was for the best. It was four minutes till the train pulled out, and Sky Blaze could see the sinking realization on Tungsten’s face that Sky Fire wasn’t coming. This may be the best chance Sky Blaze had had in a long time to talk to Tungsten... it could be her last chance to have him listen before he became like Sky Fire.

If only she knew what to say. The painful irony was how in a few hours they would be so close to the Everfree Forest, and just when Sky Blaze needed her advice the most, Zecora was gone.

Ever since her extended sojourn as a patient, the two of them had been close. Short, patient recovery reports had grown into long, heartfelt letters as Zecora became her pen-pal, and closest confidant. Sky Blaze had told Zecora things she’d never told anyone else and, when she was old enough to understand, Zecora repaid the favor in kind. Sky Blaze had spent at least some of each holiday for the last several years, visiting Zecora and had known that if she ever needed to just drop by over the weekend to get some headspace, she was always welcome. Sometimes Zecora would teach her something about natural remedies or history or another of the shamanic arts; but mostly, they were just friends.

And then, three weeks ago, she left.

Sky Blaze received one last letter from Zecora thanking her for her friendship over the years, but saying she needed to leave, and might or might not be able to reestablish contact, at an unspecified later date. Sky Blaze had dropped everything and raced to Zecora’s hut hoping for an explanation, or at least to show her off but the hut was empty except for another letter on the table that repeated the first, but with added emphasis that Sky Blaze should not try to follow her.

There was no sign that anyone else had been in, or searched Zecora’s hut. Nor were there any booby traps, but Sky Blaze concluded that that was probably because Zecora had known she would come there, and didn’t want to hurt her by mistake, so Sky Blaze remedied the situation by setting traps of her own. Since then she had checked back on Zecora’s hut four times, but nothing had changed except the slow accumulation of dust, making Sky Blaze wonder if she had been right in assuming Zecora had been found out.

It didn’t matter.

Zecora didn't need her help, and Zecora couldn't help her; Sky Blaze needed to figure out her own issues the most important of which was standing beside her, shifting uncomfortably as he searched the sky for his imperious older brother. First step.... ice cream, she'd buy them both some ice cream from the vendor, find a private booth and then try to talk to Tungsten about why – thud!

A bag hit the ground next to her.

Thud!

And another one.

“Sky Fire!” Tungsten yelled excitedly.

“Hey bro!” grinned Sky Fire, landing carefully in the narrow space between Sky Blaze and Tungsten, before ruffling his little brother’s mane “Ready for your first Youtherd?”

Chapter Seven >>> Custard

Author's Note

Shaman of the Zaharren

Listen to me, and pay heed to my words
Young citizen of the Equestrian herd;
For many long years have been seen by these eyes
And through trial and prudence, my heart has grown wise.

The time has come for you to know
The truth of my past, in years long ago.
Nights of passion and of years of war
Endless depths of wondrous lore
Deadly perils and unmeasured glory
Will you listen, as I tell my story?

I'm planning to release quite a few short stories that connect to the main plot that I'll be posting links to in various chapters. They may seem unrelated at first, but all but one of them are going to provide clues to the overall plot in one way or the other. I suggest reading them if you want to understand what's really happening and why.

7 - Custard

Sky Fire trotted behind Tungsten down the train alley; waiting for him to pick a seat. So far he had passed several cubicles with empty seats and doable fillies, but he wanted to spend some time with his little bro and he didn’t want to leave him alone with Sky Blaze; she had that look in her eye again. Tungsten double checked through the window of one cubicle and then dashed in, already withdrawing a deck of cards on his way in and plopping down next to a colt Sky Fire vaguely recognized from the Daring Do trading card club; Star Streak or something like that. Sky Fire shrugged and followed Tungsten in, aside from Star Streak the cubicle was empty so - why hello.

A snow-white pegasus filly with a black mane and tail sitting behind the door, across from Star Streak with her muzzle buried in a book. Tungsten was busy, so rather than disturb him, Sky Fire strode in, ignored the cargo racks on the roof, set his bags down very gently on the seat by the window, as though they contained some fragile and mysterious treasure and then sat down next to them and, coincidentally, the snow-white filly who rated seven-point-five on the richter scale. Sky Blaze reluctantly took the last seat in the cubicle, next to Tungsten and across from Sky Fire’s bags. The filly buried her nose deeper into her book, trying to ignore the intrusions; suggesting a difficulty rating of at least six.

Sky Fire checked the cover of the book, and the filly’s cutie-mark; an explorer trekking through snowcapped mountains, and a magnifying glass juxtaposed over a map. He saw a pattern, and several possible plans, but he didn’t make his move until Tungsten gave a small ‘eek’ when he saw one of Star Streak’s rarer cards. The filly simply rolled her eyes and tried to focus harder on the book she was reading. So she liked adventure, but not Daring Do, interesting.

“You don’t like Daring Do?” asked Sky Fire, not giving his opinion one way or the other.

The filly snorted, “I like useful things, not children’s fantasies that have no bearing whatsoever on real life.”

“Oh?”

The filly snapped her book shut for a moment, presenting him the title, “I want to know what would really work if you were lost in the wilderness; not theoretical ways of disarming booby traps in a temple that no one would ever actually build, or fight monsters that don’t exist.”

“If you’re looking for actual survival techniques, you’re hurting yourself with this book, I can tell from the cover it’s a fake.”

The filly looked annoyed, but curious, “…How?”

“If she’s an actual explorer going cross country through snow, where are her snow shoes?”

The filly stared at him for a moment, then back down to the cover of her book, then slowly back up at him again, and then dropped her book quietly; “Hi,” she said, trying to pretend nothing had happened; “I’m Spy Path, do you do a lot of reading on wilderness survival too?”

“Sky Fire; I've never read a book on wilderness survival in my life. I’ve lived it!”

“What do you mean?”

“My parents both worked in the royal air force, training the crews of long-range zeppelins to survive in the harshest environments in the world in case their airships went down, along with elite combat training in case of hostile natives or wildlife.” Sky Blaze would call him out if he stretched the truth where he wasn’t supposed to, but this really was the official story as to what dad used to do for the government.

“When my sister and I were turned three they started teaching us self-defense for two hours a day, six days a week, starting when we were just three years old, and eight or nine times a year they took us out on ‘vacations’ to teach us wilderness survival. When we were seven; they left me and my sister at the northern edge of Whitetail Wood the day before Hearths Warming Eve with our wings tied to our backs, a sandwich each and a compass to share, and told us that if we weren’t in Ponyville by Hearth’s Warming morning, we wouldn’t get our presents.”

Spy’s mouth tightened, “Are your parent’s like… sadistic psychopaths?”

“Are you kidding? They’re awesome! They never gave us more then we could manage; but when my dad was a kid, he lived on the street where some awful stuff happened, or almost happened, to him and his little sister. He wanted to be certain that we knew how to take care of ourselves.”

“But… they left you alone in Whitetail Wood in the middle of winter; you could have been killed!”

“They didn’t really leave us, but we thought they had. We were scared at the time but after a few minutes we made some snow-shoes and started walking, foraging as we went, recognizing signs of danger to avoid, building a shelter, all like they taught us. Got to Ponyville with twelve hours to spare and found out mom and dad had been following us the whole time, watching to make sure we didn’t actually get hurt.”

Sky Fire watched Spy's resistance drop to five as her gaze began melting from pity, to envy, “That’s… amazing.”

“It was nothing compared to some of the challenges they gave us when we got older; deserts where sweat poured off your skin like rivers, jungles where the mosquitoes ate you alive, snow plains where you could feel the saliva freeze in your mouth.” Spy gave a slight shiver, licking her lips and Sky Fire inched closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tungsten had stopped playing with the cards and was watching him quietly with a jaunty grin. Sky Fire passed him a sly wink and continued the lesson.

“They also gave us themes to the training to make things more… interesting. So let’s say you and I were out hiding in the snow from bandits; we'd not only needed to eat and stay warm but also remain hidden. Your coat would be perfect, but we’d have to find a way to camouflage your mane.” Sky Fire carefully wrapped his wing around Spy’s mane, so far so good. “Or we might have our wings tied to our backs, pretending that they were broken,” he contracted his wing tightly, compressing Spy Path’s wings to her sides. “Or maybe they’d say one of us was wounded, and the other needed to carry them on their backs.” Spy Path shifted uneasily, and Sky Fire released her, before his wing grew offensive. “So, what about you? You do all this reading, but how much camping have you actually done?” he already knew the answer; one look at her soft, slightly pudgy, fur told him she was an indoors pony.

Spy’s face fell and so did her resistance, as the arrogance that had clothed her just a minute ago was coming stripped away, “… Not since I was a kid; my mom and I live in Manehatten and for the last few years I’ve needed to spend all my holidays helping in her store.”

No mention of her father. Sky Fire guessed he was probably the one that used to take her camping, she probably missed both. Richter eight-point-four, resistance two-point-five, “So with a name like Spy Path, and a cutie mark for exploration, you don’t ever actually do it?” Spy shook her head, blushing, “Well we’ll have to remedy that. You’re obviously not at your mom’s shop this week and I’m planning to take an overnight camping trip to Whitetail Mountain, overlooking Ponyville. I’d be honored if you were to join me."

“It’s not your honor he wants.” Sky Blaze said dryly from across the cubicle. Sky Fire shot her piercing glance but was annoyed to see that she was staring out the window, carelessly letting his piercing glance go to waste. “My brother won’t rape you; but his only reason for talking to you is he thinks you might sleep with him.”

The mood deflated as Spy Path pulled away, but she didn’t go too far or go back to her book just yet, meaning not everything was lost. Sky Fire guessed Spy Path had been around the block with at least a few colts before; he could tell she wanted him, but still had the usual reservations about going camping with a total stranger. “I could introduce you to the dragon that lives on Whitetail Mountain.”

Spy Path paused, “…You know him? Seriously?”

“Spike? Sure, he and I have known each other since I was a baby; like a giant, scaly, fire breathing older brother that might outlive Celestia.”

Spy Path shot a glance to Sky Blaze like she was expecting her to deny it, when she didn’t, she gave a quick swallow. “Is he… safe?”

“Safe? No; he’s a dragon, I've seen him rip a manticore's jugular to pieces with his bare teeth; but he wouldn't hurt a fly if he didn't have to."

“What's he like?”

“Well… usually now all he does now is just eat and sleep, but back when I was a kid he was a different dragon, totally awesome, though with a bit of a knack for getting himself into trouble. I remember this one time he came camping with my family out in the forest when he and I went looking for edible roots; he found an abandoned mine he wanted to explore, and we ended up walking into the middle of a diamond dog casino.”

Spy Path laughed, “OK, now you’re pulling my tail.”

“If I were pulling your tail, you’d know it. I swear; this actually happened; tell her Tungsten."

“He is telling the truth,” Interrupted Sky Blaze before Tungsten could get a word in, “But it wasn’t that interesting really, at least compared to some of the other situations Sky Fire’s been in; like that time he tried to organize a four-way with The Mcpie Triplets.”

Sparks of hatred flew through Sky Fire’s mind as knives of dread, dipped in humiliation, stabbed him in the back; “Don't you dare!”

“Oh come on, it's a great story. He ended up-”

“Don't finish that sentence!”

Star Streak, who’d long since stopped actually looking at trading cards, now dropped them in one movement of confused horror, “Wait a second; aren’t the Mcpie triplets… your cousins?”

“Pinkie Pie’s not really our mom’s sister,” explained Sky Blaze, “They’re just really good friends, so we’re not actually connected to the triplets in any way, despite Sky Fire’s best efforts.”

“PLEASE, stop talking!”

Spy Path giggled, even though she wasn’t sure what she was laughing at, “I’ve never heard of these girls before, who are they?”

“Three hyperactive pink party ponies named Pinkie Zip, Pinkie Zest and Pinkie Zing; or as Sky Fire sometimes refers to them, the three headed demon of mania. Pinkie Zip’s cutie mark is chopped up ribbons, Pinkie Zest’s is chopped up streamers and Pinkie Zing’s is for confetti, and don’t you DARE trying telling them that they’re the same thing. They go everywhere together, do everything together, speak in unison, and agree on absolutely everything except what to name their pet cat.”

“What?”

“It’s the only thing they’ve ever disagreed on, but they’ve argued about it ever since they got the poor thing. They keep coming up with these ridiculous contests to see who gets to name it, but always come out in a three way tie and so the fighting continues.”

“Why can’t they just name the cat after what it does like everyone else?”

“I don’t know, it’s just a normal gray and white cat but,” Sky Blaze held one hoof to her forehead, and breathed deeply, “Pinkie Zip wants to name the cat Bob, Pinkie Zest wants to name it George and Pinkie Zing wants to name the cat Larry.”

The expression on Spy’s face started to laugh, then just got confused;“…What do those names even mean?”

“I don’t think they mean anything, the triplets just made them up.”

Spy snickered, leaning forwards, “So what’s the deal between them and Sky Fire?”

Sky Blaze struggled not to laugh and succeeded, barely, “Well, last year, our family was visiting theirs, and Sky Fire decided that if he could ‘get it on’ with triple jointed triplets, he’d have bragging rights for the rest of his life. He started trying to talk them up and thought he’d succeeded when they invited him to ‘play a game’ with them involving mattresses, bathtubs, and custard. Sky Fire very eagerly accepted, only to discover that they had something completely different in mind to what he did.”

“Stop it Sky Blaze!” yelled Sky Fire desperately.

“Come on Fire; I thought you liked playing with girls who thought outside the box.”

“Those girls, are, CRAZY!”

“And the moral of the story is?”

“Never trust girls who say they know a neat game you can play with mattresses and custard!”

Spy Path smiled at him sweetly, “I'll keep that in mind.”

Star Streak leaned forwards excitedly, “So, what actually happened?”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The doorway into the hallway burst open, giving emergency passage to a red pegasus who slammed the door behind him and began galloping down the hall, covering his mortified face with one wing as the cubicle behind him lit up with rancorous laughter as his sister took great delight in recounting the worst thing that had ever happened to him. He needed a distraction, anything to prevent himself from remembering that awful, awful day and given his limited choice of destinations, he headed to the café cart, finding it almost empty except for one of the best type of distraction there was.

Earth pony filly, pale tan coat, long blond mane that looked like it had come straight from the spa, terrific overall figure with a comfy looking back and a gait that showed if she had a colt-friend, he wasn’t taking care of business eight-point-eight. Sky Fire checked her flank and then her cutie mark finding it a double octave; a musician then, what instrument? Sky Fire checked her flank more closely, muscular hind legs implied she spent a lot of time standing upright, and those callused grove across her hoof - of course, she was a cellist!

The filly gave a sigh, a very specific kind of sigh suggesting disappointment. The way she moved told Sky Fire she didn’t think too highly of herself, so maybe her parent(s) were the type for whom nothing was ever good enough, or maybe her end-of-year report card had left a lot to be desired, or both. Either way she could be a lot of fun, the real question then; who was he?

A dormant poet soul who would give anything to learn to play the cello; who would be enamored by her music and hang upon her every word. He could ask her to teach him, and after a few bungled attempts ask her to stand behind him, put her arms on his arms, put her hooves on his hooves and together they could make such beautiful music; as he learned rapidly inspired by her beauty as her talent unlocked his dormant potential. Two, maybe three dates and-

No wait.

As Sky Fire pretended to study the menu, the filly that had begun walking away from the buffet, froze and then slowly turned back. She waited a moment in uncertainty, and then put back several of the bowls of grains and salads she’d filled her tray with originally, until her tray was almost empty, and then went to the dessert bar. She made several nervous glances around the cart, as if her parents might spring out from under the table, and then began filling her tray with brownies, cheesecake, and honey sticks before daring to assemble a heaping bowl of ice cream that she drowned in chocolate sauce. She had more sugar than she could possibly eat, but still didn’t look satisfied; she reached for a spoon, stopped, then dug the tip of her hoof into her ice-cream and flicked some onto her pristine fur coat, and then rubbed the rest into her mane. Finally satisfied, she turned purposefully and moved on, her frazzled mane now showing several strands of black, meaning she had just dyed it, because she wanted to be a different person at Youtherd than she was at home.

Sky Fire grinned as he finally understood; this girl wasn’t looking to be made to feel like she was good enough for the system; she was looking to buck the system all together. She didn’t want to help someone else fit into it; she was looking to rebel, but didn’t know how. Sky Fire turned in an instant from student, to teacher; and from a shy and quiet poet, to a rough and mysterious rouge, as unpredictable as the Everfree forest and with all the passion of a raging manticore.

Sky Fire finished his inspection of the menu and began strutting towards her; she turned to face him and smiled, flashing brilliant blue eyes. Two or three dates? This girl would be hitting a sugar rush in a few hours; all that vent up frustration would be looking to escape and he’d be there to catch. He just needed to pick the lock to the baggage carriage, like any good rogue would, to get them some privacy and - CU-ss-ta-r-d!

The filly… put a bowl… of custard on her dessert tray.

The filly might have spoken to him on his way past, or she might not, Sky Fire wasn’t sure. He pushed past her, keeping as much distance as possible, and kept walking into the next train cart, as a cold sweat broke down his spine.

Chapter Eight >>> Mad Mares

Chapter Fourteen >>> When siblings Collide to continue with Napalm

Author's Note

I originally posted these chapters before they revived pretty negative reviews, and I'm hoping this time, the contrast with Zaharren culture will make it more interesting. On the one hand arguing if its OK for a fifteen year old girl to sleep with her boyfriend and on the other arguing if it's OK for a fifteen year old girl to get married. On the one hand questioning if an eighteen year old girl should have an abortion as she's 'too young' to have a baby and on the other having a culture that expects a girl to be a mother by eighteen.

Let's see how it goes.

8 - Mad Mares

The train hadn’t even pulled into the station before it began boiling over with young ponies, bubbling with excitement as they scattered every which way. There were only so many acres of available camping grounds in the shanty town that sprung up around Ponyville this time of year; and it was a race against time, and everyone else, to get the best spots.

Hotel prices quadrupled, and anyone with a spare room could charge premium so long as they were careful in choosing their tenant. The rest camped in the fields; except for those lucky few who had family or close friends living in Ponyville willing to host them; this privilege applied in particular for three young stallions and an adolescent mare that got off the train after almost everyone else had left, and began trotting with disciplined leisure towards Sweet Apple Acres.

Clastic Strain led the way; his wings tucked under a warm tunic which would protect him from unwanted attention that might delay them from reaching the farm by one-thirty. Of course, no one would actually care if they didn’t turn up until midnight, but they were minor royalty and needed to act like it, that meant keeping your word in every situation. Being the oldest, dad had left him in charge for the holidays, meaning if anything went wrong, it was on him.

Crossing the bridge, they passed over a makeshift shipping yard where earth ponies were improvising wooden racing kayaks, and under a cloud-dock where pegasi were fashioning clouds for a similar purpose, they left Ponyville proper and entered the shantytown which was wrapping itself around Sweet Apple Acres.

Behind Clastic Strain; Crackle Jack was rehearsing out loud for his improv comedy club, even though he knew that no one was listening. Behind him, Benefair was insisting to Winnow for the eleventh time that, a fifteen year old colt shouldn’t be in a wargames tournament that went until one in the morning, even if it was based off semi-historical battles from the Solar War.

While the time factor was one reason Clastic Strain didn’t want Winnow to go; his real objection was that he didn’t trust the colt who’d invited Winnow to fill a vacancy on the thesteral side of the game as they, ‘slaughtered the frail sun-lovers’. Winnow kept insisting that Board Swipe was a good guy, even if he liked playing the bad guys in games; but Clastic Strain had made his ruling and Benefair was willing to enforce it, which Clastic Strain was grateful for as he really didn’t have time for this.

Climbing the steps to the farmhouse veranda; Clastic Strain knocked on the door, and waited. There was a slow, steady creak and the door opened to the image of an ancient, gray stallion; scarcely visible under a shaggy white beard, massive folds of wrinkled skin and large bushy eyebrows hiding sunken, bloodshot eyes; “Hi Big Macintosh; two-thirty, right on time.”

“Eeeyup.”

“You doing OK?”

“Eeeyup.”

“Family OK?”

“Eeeyup.”

“Any questions?”

“Nnope.”

“Well… I guess we’ll go up to our rooms now.”

Big Macintosh stood aside for the young royals who had barely made it in the door before being caught by an indoor tornado of crazed amiability known as Pinkie Pie, who collided with the royal siblings and her husband in a whirlwind of jokes, hugs and balloon animals which exploded on impact. Clastic Strain had lived through similar attacks before, but this one seemed unnatural, as if Pinkie was trying to freak everypony out.

Clastic Strain forced himself to smile. If Pinkie thought he was unhappy she would never leave him alone, never stopping to think that she might be the thing that was bothering him. She probably imagined that he was excited to be there, and was grateful to her for ‘inventing Youtherd,’ as she claimed. In reality, most of the festival had developed mostly independently of her, but he couldn't deny that she had planted the seed, through the aftermath of her brief yet tyrannical reign as town mayor.

After the uprising, the next mayor Lyra Heartstrings disbanded the secret giggle police and reverted The Fortress of Laughter back to Town Hall, but tried to keep some semblance of Pinkie’s promise of making Ponyville the party capital of Equestria. The proceeding attempts at a highly regulated annual music festival were largely unsuccessful however and it wasn’t until Lyra resigned for psychological reasons, and Rumble became mayor that the framework for what became the highly popular and profitable, crowd-sourced festival of Youtherd were laid.

Clastic Strain wished he was home, but knew that it was important for the youngest members of the royal family to be seen doing something which was quickly becoming considered part of normal adolescence. He wished he could house anywhere but Sweet Apple Acres, but knew that keeping strong bonds between the families of the elements of harmony was a matter of strategic importance.

When the first wave of Pinkie’s assault lulled, Big Macintosh, who had frozen stiff when Pinkie appeared, suddenly became animated, retreating down the hallway at a pace just slow enough that he wouldn’t attract his wife’s attention. Clastic Strain watched Big Mac’s example and then followed suit; leaving his younger siblings to deal with Pinkie as he ducked into the kitchen where he was met with a peaceful reprieve, and the sane pink mare who inhabited Sweet Apple Acres, “Hi Tia.”

Diamond Tiara looked up from where she had been making apple jam on the stove, and poured him a glass of lemonade which he accepted gratefully, “How’ve you been Cl-”

The remainder of Tia’s greeting was inaudible over the squawking of a chicken that Pinkie had drafted into her welcoming committee. Clastic Strain grimaced; “… Is it just me, or is Pinkie acting even weirder than usual?”

Tia sighed, “She’s trying to compensate for the triplets being gone; she misses them.”

“Big Mac looks a lot better though, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so relaxed.”

“Well you try sleeping in the house when the triplets are here, bouncing off the walls all night.” She leaned forwards and lowered her voice,“FYI, the triplets wrote home about meeting you in Fillydelphia. They say you owe them a game of cupcakes.”

Clastic Strain shuddered at the memory, and turned the conversation towards Canterlot.Tia listened carefully as Clastic Strain told her the latest with Applejack, Fancypants and their kids; then with rapturous attention as Clastic Strain talked about Apple Bloom, Case Wright and their foal Zap Apple.

Clastic Strain didn’t mind answering Tia’s peppering of questions about when Apple Bloom’s second foal was due, and listening to her fervent speculations that it was going to be a filly was amusing, borderline contagious. At one forty-five however, the alarm chimed, and Pinkie set off to for her appointment to open Ponyville’s new water slide. Clastic Strain guessed that that gave him about half an hour to get his family organized, and get out of there before Pinkie got back.

He pacified Diamond Tiara by giving her the picture Zap Apple had made of his Aunt Tia; which she took with the enthusiasm of a toddler, and the carefulness as if she were holding one. It wasn’t a picture really; more like a pink, vaguely pony shaped blob with a lavender squiggle at the top. Nevertheless, the wavy smile on the pony-blobs face, held more likeness to the Tia Clastic Strain knew, than the portrait of the fourteen year old brat which hung in Tia’s bungalow behind the barn.

Clastic Strain took Tia and Apple Bloom’s word for it that they weren’t always friends; usually he had a hard time imagining it, but when he looked at the portrait, he could almost envision the bully that Diamond Tiara ruefully described. It was one of the few possessions she had from her old life, and kept it in the centre of the mantelpiece as a reminder of what the Apples had been willing to take in after her father was sentenced to life imprisonment, her mother threw her out of home and her own extended family rejected her. It was a reminder of what she must never be again.

While Tia examining her new portrait, Clastic Strain slipped out, and made a final base check with his family. Winnow would be painting his wargames figurines in the farmhouse, after which he would attend the daytime tournament, playing as the Solar Knights and be back by ten. Crackle Jack was going to hang out with his improv comedy club and then catch a movie; and Benefair would be working on recording a music album for charity with her friends. With that, the four siblings shot off in different directions.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

There was a shout, a loud crash, and then a wave of laughter followed by something heavy being thrown out Sugar Cube Corner’s doors and into the fountain outside, causing the laughter to re-double. Clastic Strain sat with his back turned to the debacle, trying to catch his elusive concentration and glue it to the piles of homework that buried the four-person table in front of him.

Technically, the rest of Professor Sparkle’s students had just as much homework as he did, but they were unicorns, meaning magic was the only thing they were expected to study; whereas Clastic Strain needed to study flying, cloud crafting and weather patterns as well. There was one other alicorn in his class, but Cloud Run came from a normal family, meaning he didn’t have to attend any royal functions, or knighting ceremonies or security drills; Clastic Strain needed to attend all three.

On the chair beside him was the first edition of the Youtherd newspaper; which, for now, was mostly a schedule for open door parties, races, movie showings, sports events, music performances and whatever other activities were on that holiday. If someone wanted to hold a race, all they had to do was pass a note with the place and time to a group of media students and a few dozen ponies might turn up. If a music band wanted to get a chance to showcase their music, they put an ad in the paper and the chances of a decent crowd were good.

More Youtherd papers would be published bi-daily, informing of newly planned activities and reporting the results of previous events. The seventh paper would be published as a history of the event, like a school yearbook. If you did something noteworthy, you would be noted, if you did something stupid, you would be laughed at.

Clastic Strain looked carefully through the newspaper and ranked each activity with a one, two, three, or four. Fours he didn’t want to do, threes he wanted to do but definitely wouldn’t have time, twos he wanted to do but almost definitely wouldn’t have time, ones he really wanted to do and might have time for, if he studied well.

After two minutes of staring off into space; Clastic Strain flipped through his homework list looking for something easy to start with. If only – “Muffin?”

Clastic Strain smiled at the voice, turning to see Dinky Hooves standing behind him with the promised sweet; and suddenly his homework didn’t seem as annoying. “Thank you” he smiled, taking the muffin with his wing.

“That’ll be seven bits.”

“…I thought you were offering it to me for free.”

“I never said that; and now you’ve touched it, so you have to pay.”

“They’re listed at the counter for three.”

“Four bits for our great delivery service.”

Clastic Strain repressed a laugh, and then held out ten bits to Dinky’s waiting grasp. After pocketing her money, Dinky lingered, looking over his shoulder; “More homework from Twilight?”

“Yea, every year I keep thinking Professor Sparkle couldn’t possibly give any more homework, then I get my homework and last year’s work seems easy.”

“Awwww” whined Dinky, “You mean she’s not Aunt Twily anymore?”

“Nope.”

Dinky picked up his master checklist of homework and breezed over it quickly before giving it back to him, “I finish my shift in about eight minutes; if you want I’ll give you a hoof.”

“Thank you.” Breathed Clastic Strain in relief, but by then Dinky had already turned and trotted over to the next table; her light blond mane bouncing cheerfully down her pale lavender shoulders.

Dinky was a familiar mystery which beguiled Clastic Strain’s unwitting curiosity. Most of what he did know about her came second or third hoof from Ponyville locals, and was often contradictory whereas Dinky always avoided talking about her own childhood seriously. On a personal level however, Clastic Strain knew her better than any of the ponies who he’d learned her story from.

Most people in Ponyville would never see Dinky as anything more than the delusional bastard child of a sociopath who took advantage of a retard. Only a few would ever see, and even fewer admit, the simple truth that Clastic Strain had long-since realized. Dinky was stone cold brilliant.

Whether it was because of, or in spite of her history, Clastic Strain didn’t know.

Dinky’s mother was a retired mail mare named Derpy, plagued with mental and physical disability since childhood; her father… didn’t deserve to be called a father, or pony for that matter. Clastic Strain knew very little about him, except that he seemed to have fallen out of the sky about twenty-five years ago; and within a few days had manipulated his way into Derpy’s home, taking every advantage of her naivety and inflated compassion.

Nine months after the Dinky’s father arrived, there was a cheap wedding ceremony and two months later, Dinky was born. They lived on the outskirts of town, far out of earshot of the closest neighbor; which Dinky’s father exploited without mercy. Nopony knew… exactly went on; though every person he talked to whispered new speculations about torture and depravity; with the only detail remaining constant being the tiny blue box which Dinky’s father would lock her in for days at the time. Whatever happened, it seemed obvious that Dinky’s father was using her as a test subject for some experiment, causing her to age and grow rapidly.

If Derpy ever tried to protect her daughter, her only results were the bruises and bandaged limbs, which she unwaveringly refused to explain to other ponies. Ponyville watched on as Derpy was crushed under the weight of her misery, breaking her cheerful, careless demeanor and leaving only a graying, dismal mare whose only real chance to give her daughter a chance in life ended with disaster.

When Dinky was just two, she showed the physical and mental signs of a filly four times her age and, with enough persuasion, Derpy managed to enroll her in Mrs. Cheerilee’s school; but it never lasted. Dinky spent almost every class continually shouting out that virtually everything the schoolbooks said about history and science was wrong, talking about ice that burned or stars that were sentient and a thousand other impossible things.

She was the only student that Mrs. Cheerilee ever gave an F to in show and tell, for bringing in a bronze helmet which Dinky insisted was the authentic helmet of Commander Hurricane, despite the facts that the real artifact was held in Canterlot National Museum, made of iron, had a completely different design, and the helmet Dinky had was obviously new.

She spoke occasionally to the other students, but never made any friends and was teased mercilessly for her antics by Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. Even then, rather than responding sensibly, Dinky retaliated with threats of locking Diamond Tiara inside a mirror for all eternity, but that just made things worse.

After just three months, Mrs. Cheerilee lost patience and told Dinky to stand outside until she was willing to deny that the sofas at her house had their own book club. Dinky went home and that was the end of her formal education.

How it was possible for an entire town could have been so silent, when the signs of abuse were so obvious was a malfeasance which Clastic Strain would never understand. Whatever fantasy universe that Dinky had been forced to build around herself to escape reality should have been recognized as a cry for help; but no one had wanted to be the first person to take a stand, and when everyone saw that no one else was doing anything, they used that as justification for their own ruthless inaction.

Apple Bloom said that when Dinky was young, she gained several cutie-marks including pillows, longbows, shoes and dolphins just to name a few. Some lasted a few minutes, others a few hours, but when Dinky turned four, she got a cutie-mark that didn’t go away. Apparently, this marked the end of her father’s research because the next day he walked out, and no one in Ponyville had seen or heard a whisper from him since. (The fact that he vanished mere weeks before The Second Lunar Rebellion left many to speculate possible connections, but nothing could ever be traced or proven.)

The mysterious injuries ceased, but though her rapid aging ended, Derpy never regained her lost years. As for Dinky… she aged normally for a time and then seemed to stop altogether, as if her body was finally making up for the lost years that had been imposed on it, freezing somewhere in its early twenties. Since then, very little in her life had changed.

Although she didn’t yell it out at every available moment anymore, Dinky was still unwilling to deny her old games of history revisionism. Whether it was a technique necessary to block out childhood abuse or something that had become so ingrained in her that she didn’t know how to act otherwise, Clastic Strain didn’t know. Combined with the lingering stigma of her unworldly aging, it was difficult for anyone to take her seriously, or see her as anything more than an unsociable loon. Dinky’s tendency for voracious insults didn’t help.

If Dinky ever left Ponyville, and started fresh somewhere where no one knew her, Clastic Strain was sure that she could become almost anything she wanted. Her reasons for staying in the backwater town were as obvious as they were touching; her mother needed her. Although she was barely in her fifties, due to the abuse, Derpy had the bearings of a much older mare; and wouldn’t leave the town she’d called home for most of her life. Dinky wouldn’t abandon her mother, and so she forsook a world of opportunity to work part time as a waitress at Sugarcube Corner and take care of her. A seven bit tip for delivering a muffin wasn’t coercion, it was necessary; and Clastic Strain was glad to do it.

“So where do we start?”

“What?” Clastic Strain looked up; Dinky was standing over him, her waitress apron gone, her cheeky grin remained. Clastic Strain checked the clock, eight minutes had passed.

Clastic Strain slid to the next chair, and passed Dinky one assignment sheet at random; “A twelve thousand word essay on the on the potential dangers of miscalculated teleportation.” she read. “Seems easy enough; a picture is worth a thousand words, draw her a comic slide; include lots of blood.”

“She’d fail me.”

“Then paint it.”

“This is serious.”

“Alright, alright.” Dinky added a dash of practical application to her usual madness, transforming it into a fresh batch of creative genius which she shared with Clastic Strain, quickly suggesting several ways teleportation’s could backfire which… not many people would think of.

Over the next three hours, the two of them worked their way through a rough draft of a promising essay, two spells, a chapter of advanced mathematics, (though Dinky scoffed at that title) and seven milkshakes. Tasks which had seemed daunting just a few hours ago suddenly seemed easy, and the simplicity with which Dinky explained complicated spells almost seemed magic in itself.

If they kept working at this rate, there was a very good chance Clastic Strain could fit in all of the number one activities, and maybe even a few of the twos; he might even get eight hours sleep that night. Clastic Strain started to wonder how Dinky would react if he offered her twice what she was making at Sugarcube Corner, to be his tutor for the next few weeks… except for one subject.

Right after Dinky’s arrival; Clastic Strain wished he’d left Professor Sparkle’s latest history book back at the farmhouse. Dinky had suggested moving onto history after finishing the essay, and each spell, but Clastic Strain always managed to steer in a different direction. The moment he finished the last math problem however, Dinky slammed the math book down and snatched up the history book and began flicking through it, like a judgmental lion waiting to devour.

“Right, right, wrong, almost right, bad artist reproduction, wrong-” there was no way she was actually reading that fast; she wasn't spending more than three seconds per page. “Right, wrong, wrong, almost right,” Clastic Strain decided to let her have this, after all they were due for a break and this seemed her chosen game; “Right, wrong, wrong, right;” Dinky picked up a pen and scribbled violently in Clastic Strain mint condition book.

“NO!” Clastic Strain shouted, snatching the book away from her before she could do any more damage. “You can’t do that!”

“I just did.”

Clastic Strain looked in his book hoping the damage wouldn’t be too bad; to his horror Dinky had vandalized the chapter on Starswirl The Bearded, crossing out two hundred and eleven for the number of spells he had created and written thirty-eight. “If Sparkle sees this she’ll-”

“Starswirl wasn’t nearly as smart as Twilight cracks him up to be; he mostly took credit for other wizard’s works, especially Clover the Cleaver, now there was a real wizard; beautiful cellist, did you know that?”

Clastic Strain glared at Dinky, forcing himself to remember how much help she’d just been. “Alright… so Clover invented the time spells instead of Starswirl?”

“No; those were taught to him by a family of time travelers from the future.”

“So what am I meant to say on my exam? Starswirl was a fraud? Professor Sparkle would fail me.”

“Maybe; but at least you’ve been right.”

“…Let’s move on,”

Dinky reached for Professor Sparkle’s history book again but Clastic Strain pulled it away. “Promise you’re not to write in it again.”

Dinky sighed, “Fine.”

“Promise?”

“Yea alright I promise,” she quipped, snatching the book back from him again and returning to her earlier monotone as judged each page before taking the time to read it, , “Right, right, wrong, right, almost right, wrong, wrong, completely wrong!" Dinky tore two pages straight out from the book, shredding them with her magic and drawing a frantic ‘eep’ from Clastic Strain

“You- you promised-”

“That I wouldn’t write in your book and I didn’t.”

“But-”

“It wasn’t right! The battle of Skyfall never happened.”

Clastic Strain glared at her, “There’s a bucking holiday for it.”

“That doesn't mean that it happened!”

Now Dinky had crossed over the line. Joking about an old wizard was one thing, dishonoring those who had sacrificed their lives to protect Equestria was another. “Each year for as long as I can remember my parents have made me go to the Skyfall parade.”

“Yes I imagine they would.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you ask?”

“What?”

“Do you actually care about whether or not what you say is true, or do you just want to say whatever Twilight wants you to say in order to get the grade you want?”

“… Can I have my book back... please?”

Dinky sighed, grabbed the corner of his tunic in her magic, pulled it upwards and paused. Clastic Strain tried to bat his wing down to pull his tunic back, but before he could, Dinky had slipped his book back into his saddlebag and then backed off. Clastic Strain withered at her, “What?” asked Dinky, “If the book was on the table I’d be tempted to correct it some more, I was putting it out of harm’s way.”

“You did that just so you could check whether or not I had my cutie-mark yet, didn’t you?”

Dinky put her elbow on the table, leaned her hoof on her cheek, and spoke much more loudly than was necessary; “Why shouldn’t I? You stare at my ass all the time.”

“That… that’s not…” Clastic Strain stammered, turning violet red.

“You’re looking at it right now.”

That was only because he was still trying to figure out what her cutie-mark meant! Clastic Strain had known Dinky most of his life, and had tried for years to come up with a reasonable guess as to what it meant as was still no closer to an answer! It looked like Dinky; almost, maybe it was another pony, then again, it could have been anything!

On Dinky’s flank was what looked like a pony made from a patchwork quilt, with every inch of its coat and mane a different color with no discernible pattern. It looked like it could have been an alicorn, but from certain angles the horn looked like an antler, and the wing might just be an illusion from the changing colors of the coat, which were just as likely to have been made of scales as feathers.

There were four legs with what looked like hooves, but if he looked for them, Clastic Strain could just as easily see paws, talons or cloven hooves. He had no idea whether the creature was male or female, and the face seemed to by expressing every conceivable emotion at once!

“Hey!” Scolded Dinky; pushing his chin up so he was meeting her at eye level, “Face is up here.” Sugarcube Corners doors swayed open as someone came in; “I wonder who that could be?” asked Dinky, turning around and hopping up to stand on her chair so she could see the door, placing her flank exactly where her face had been a moment ago.

Clastic Strain was sure that her cutie-mark had changed in the moment since he’d last saw it, but didn’t know how. It was possible that her cutie-mark was different on her left and right sides, but he couldn’t be certain, he never was; the creature could just as easily have been Discord as it was Dinky.

Dinky leaned forwards, apparently trying to talk to some people at the table behind them, giving her hips a small shake; now her cutie-mark changed again, he was positive. The eye of the creature, which seemed to be every color simultaneously, had stopped looking everywhere at once and was now focusing directly on him.

Clastic Strain moved to the side, but the cutie-beast’s gaze followed him. Now there was absolutely no question that Dinky’s cutie-mark had changed, Clastic Strain leaned far to the left and then the entire creature turned its head. It wasn’t facing towards Dinky’s shoulder anymore, it was standing as if for a frontal portrait, smiling at him, grinning at him… and then it winked at him.

“OK, break’s over.” Dinky pivoted around again, briefly brushing Clastic Strain’s muzzle with her tail and let herself fall back into her chair, munching on a few hayfries she had taken from the next table, probably without permission. “How about we skip spells thirty one through thirty four and go straight to thirty-five. I want to see if you can put mustaches on things.”

“Dinky.”

She turned to face him, batting her eyelashes slightly, though that too could be his imagination, “Yes?”

“What does you’re cutie-mark mean?”

Dinky looked at him like she was confused for a moment, she looked at him, then down to her cutie-beast and then up to him again; “…I thought you knew.”

“Know? How could I know?”

“Well you’ve known me for seventeen years. If you couldn’t tell from the picture, why did you wait so long to ask me?”

“I… I didn’t…”

“Yes?” asked Dinky, leaning closer.

Clastic Strain swallowed, checked for other people listening and then said very quietly, “I didn’t want to make you think about any of the ways your father abus-”

Several hard objects suddenly collided with Clastic Strain’s face. The first, he was fairly certain, was Dinky’s hoof, the second felt like the edge of the table and the third was probably the floor, based on the fact that that was where he was now lying, with Dinky standing over him, red faced with her teeth barred.

“Don’t you ever talk about my father that way again!”

“But-”

“EVER!”

Dinky raised her hoof to hit him again, Clastic Strain tried to block, but his head was pounding and missed. Dinky’s hoof pummeled his ear into the floor and ground it several times for good measure. Dinky then teleported to turn around and began trotting angrily towards the door, “Figure out your own stupid homework!”

Chapter Nine - Brink

Chapter Sixteen - Hope From Ashes To continue with Clastic Strain

Author's Note

Pinkie's Apocolypse

Clastic Strain learns Pinkie Pie's identical triplet daughters are planning the apocalypse.

He overreacts.

9 - Brink

Twilight sat in a hotel room in Timbucktoo. She’d promised Shining Armor that she would go back to Equestria; but right now that promise seemed distant. If he brought it up when she talked to him, she could just say she forgot it, like she’d forgotten being married.

After finding the gravesite, Twilight had sifted through the remaining remains of the village; shelter by shelter, centimeter by centimeter, grain of sand by grain of sand. If this had been any other archeological dig site in the world, Twilight would have excavated the remains of Zohan and the rest of the tribe to try and determine how they died; but somehow… knowing that these people were probably her family she just couldn’t do it. The rest of the village had been stripped bare long ago, and the few remaining scraps she found of her family’s history failed to tell her anything new.

Twilight needed answers, but the only way she could get them to talk to one of her family or friends who’d been lying to her for years. She didn’t hate them for what they’d done. Obviously they had been trying to protect her from the pain of loss and Twilight could understand that; but now that she knew, Twilight wanted the full story about Zohan and his family, who they were, how she met them, and how they died.

Shining Armor had broken an oath in telling her the truth, (or at least part of it,) and she didn’t want to cause him trouble for it, which meant she couldn’t tell anyone else that she knew, which meant he needed to be the one she asked. After wringing every drop of information she could from the ruin, she turned back west and followed a line of small settlements that Shining Armor had passed by; paying for information as she went.

Apparently, the Sunstrider lost the trail of the hostages in the sandstorm that caused her to stumble into her old family’s village; Shining Armor ran a two day search grid in every direction but didn’t pick up the trail, but neither did he find any bodies suggesting everypony was still alive. Shortly after this, emissaries from Ferric’s steward, the Head Shaman, and several Great Houses arrived, demanding he come to Timbucktoo to explain his presence; Shining Armor had gone willingly, and Twilight suspected he would try to recruit help in the search for Equestria’s lost ponies.

Before Twilight reached Timbucktoo, she’d been afraid that she might stand out; but those fears had been groundless. Hundreds of ponies had lived in Timbucktoo before Ferric’s disappearance; many of them stayed west of the desert when commerce with Equestria broke down, marrying and having children making ponies and zehorses were hardly a rare sight in Timbucktoo. The components for her latest project were easy to find and the money for them was a delight to withdraw.

Equestria may not have any direct commerce with The Zaharren anymore, but they both traded heavily with the Ephrintine Oligarchy and a few years ago, Twilight had worked with a member of the white council on a revolutionary new idea that could change banking forever. Small, easy to carry, wealth cards were printed on magically reinforced paper; containing the current balance of the owner’s bank account. Participating banks could contract to service each other’s clients, meaning someone could travel interstate or even across countries and have access to their bank accounts wherever they went.

For now; only a few banks were participating, and a person’s unique mana signature was the only sure way to confirm identification. This meant that, for now, only magic users could use wealth cards, but Twilight foresaw a day when anyone could access their funds in any bank, or even any store in the world; and to show her faith in her work, Twilight had stored the majority of her life savings in a participating bank in Equestria. Twilight had been delighted at how many banks in Timbucktoo were using her invention, and she had had no difficulty withdrawing money from a bank called The Shaman’s Reserve so she could buy what she needed.

Her bed, desk, and table were scattered with small tools and crystals she’d rejected; in front of her, a new cocient in front of her buzzed to life for the first time. This one was larger than the model that Shining Armor kept strapped to his wrist, capable of tracking the other the Sun Guards, Shining Armor, and Spike who Shining Armor had given a spare cocient to, up to five kilometers. More importantly; this one’s beacon had been cloaked, meaning Shining Armor didn’t know she was there yet.

Twilight wanted to keep the other Sun Guards from finding out she was there to save unnecessary hassle. She’d wait until Shining Armor was alone and she’d confront him; he would tell her the entire story about her blackout, once and for all and then they would never have to speak of it again. All she needed to do now; was wait.

Twilight leaned back, trying for the eighty-first time to imagine what Zohan might have been like. Back in her twenties, when Twilight still believed she had all the time and options in the world for love, she’d convinced herself that one day she’d settle down with another alpha unicorn who would be almost as smart and as powerful as she was. But the desert tribes were almost exclusively earth zebras.

What if… a passing unicorn had fathered Zohan with one of the village mares, and then Zohan had grown up stifled, with little to no education; but through intelligence and sheer determination managed to build the irrigation system by trial and error. After that… Zohan somehow managed to win a scholarship at Celestia’s school for gifted unicorns, started helping her with the Manhattan Project where they fell in love and got married.

Then…maybe some other tribe had threatened to wipe out Zohan’s village so he ran back to defend it; Twilight may have begged Shining Armor for support, but he refused to commit troops to an internal Zaharren affair. Twilight didn’t think that she’d have let Zohan face the danger alone, she was sure of it, besides, the marking on his tombstone were probably made by her; meaning she’d gone with Zohan to defend his village. On August Seventh, The mysterious threat killed Zohan, and then the next day killed the rest of the tribe except for herself and the village children. She’d protected them somehow, and tried to lead them to safety, but then they died away anyways, but Twilight somehow managed to make it back to Equestria safely. After that… she hated Shining Armor because he blamed her for what happened and then… tried to kill herself out of grief?

That did not sound like her.

Could losing the stallion she loved truly have affected her that badly? They said that love makes people do crazy things, but Twilight wouldn’t know.

There was something else about this that Twilight couldn’t place. Before and after her blackout, Twilight had been in the throes of working day and night on the Manehatten Project; Equestria and Celestia needed her. Falling in love, would have taken some of her time, but Zohan was probably helping her more than enough for make up for it but… she’d learned to paint in that period, well enough that she had probably spent hundreds of hours practicing.

Zohan was probably the one who'd taught her to paint, but why would she have stopped working on The Manehatten Project to learn something that had no immediate pragmatic value? As much as she’d like to say she’d have dated Zohan and worked on the Manehatten Project, virtually no progress was made on it during her blackout, meaning she had been lucid, and walked away from research that meant the end of the Everfree War and saving thousands or even millions of Equestrian of lives… to paint.

That didn’t make sense, but what if- there was a knocking at her door.

Twilight froze; she glanced fearfully at her cocient, expecting to see Shining Armor’s signature at her door, but he wasn’t anywhere near here. It was probably just her landlord, but Twilight cast several protection spells over herself and took a defensive stance, just in case there was trouble. She opened the door with her magic, and the sight in front of her sliced through her defenses; magic, mind, body and soul.

Standing at the threshold of her door was a unicorn colt, coat, mane and eyes made of the purest black except for one brilliant streak of magenta through his mane. His cheekbones looked sharp enough you could cut yourself on them and his cutie mark represented a trident or a three pronged candle stick. Twilight stared at him, unable to believe her eyes. He wasn’t possible! He couldn’t exist; but he was standing right there! Right in front of her! He was here, he was beautiful; he was... hers!

Twilight had heard stories about mothers who had been separated from their children at birth, yet recognized them instantly when they found them, even if it was decades later. She’d never believed it, until now.

The unicorn colt was staring back at her, with an expression that she could only guess was mirroring hers, a look that he’d inherited from her, but he was the first to regain his composure and break nearly two decades of silence. "H-hello Mrs. Sparkle.” He said timidly, “I-I'm sorry to intrude, I know you probably don't want to see me, but I think you might be-"

Before he could finish the sentence, Twilight had wrapped her hooves around her son’s mane, drawing him into a desperate hug as she wept openly onto his shoulder. So many emotions were running through her mind; she was afraid, confused, angry, and yet so happy she could burst. Her son didn't even know what to say, he just stood there, lost for words, as Twilight hugged him, then, after what seemed like years, he did the one thing she’d always wanted. He hugged her back.

Mother and son stood at the doorway, holding each other, crying, not caring what passersby saw them. Twilight continued to cry and wanted to cry; if she stopped crying she would have to say something, and though a thousand feelings and questions hammered at her heart and mind, she knew she wouldn’t be able to put one of them into words. Again, it was her son that broke the silence, "You’re... happy to see me?"

"Yes!" sobbed Twilight, nuzzling his neck and still unwilling to let him go.

"Then why did you leave me!?"

Twilight couldn't answer, she knew there had to be an answer, some reason, why this was the first time when she’d met her son. She also knew that whatever that reason was, it would be totally, woefully, stupidly inadequate. No answer could ever justify this. “I-I didn… I would never leave.”

“But you did!”

Twilight didn’t know what to say, she knew there was nothing she could say, but there was something she had to know, and would die if the answer was denied her for any longer; “What is your name!?”

“Obtrillion; that’s what they named me at the orphanage.”

“What orphanage?”

Obtrillion slowly tore away from her, taking more of her heart than she could live without with him; “Did you, or did you not, leave me in a basket at the door to The Orphanage Of The Shaman Temple when I was less than a week old?”

Every fiber of Twilight’s being wanted to scream denial; she opened her mouth, but she couldn’t. “I… I don’t; please, tell me… tell me that you've been happy."

Obtrillion stared at her in confusion, then turned away, sobbing, then slowly shook his head as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Tell me that someone at the orphanage loved you."

Obtrillion's head kept shaking.

"Tell me that you had friends."

Obtrillion's head kept shaking.

"…Tell me-"

"NO!" he shouted, "None of that! Everyone there hated me! No parents, no siblings, or cousins or nephews or uncles or friends. No games, no songs, no bedtime stories, no hugs until after I left the orphanage. I was alone! Family is everything, and I never had one! I had nothing! The only scrap of love I had was the letter that I was left with. I taught myself to read when I was two so I could read it, and read it every single day, because it was the only hint I had that someone in the world might love me, but now you’re telling me that even that was a lie!"

“…What letter?”

Obtrillion angrily withdrew a slip of paper from his small saddlebag and held it in front of Twilight. It was creased in every possible angle, and tear stains marked covered most of the page, nevertheless the words rang clearly, and Twilight could sense a number of advanced preservation and restoration spells humming through this tiny piece of paper.

My son, I am sorry that I have to leave you; I wish there was another choice but your father is dead, I have no other family I can go to, and I cannot afford to keep you. I love you.

I’m so sorry.

That was all it said.

Twilight couldn’t move, she couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe. Obtrillion steadied her to prevent her from falling over, and she broke down into incalculable sobs, “This… isn’t my writing.”

“Then whose is it?”

Twilight looked back at the alien text; hoping that there was another explanation, but there wasn’t. She would have recognized those impossible curves anywhere; “Celestia’s.”

Chapter Ten >>> Sorrow

10 - Sorrow

At some point over the following minutes, Twilight and her son ended up back inside her apartment sitting on a small couch; though Twilight refused to stop clinging to him, as if she let him go, even for an instant, she would lose him again and never get him back. Through endless rows of tears shed on both their parts, she tried to explain, constantly infuriated by her own lack of answers. She tried to explain to him her blackout, what it was like to go to bed one night and wake up two years later; the gaping hole that had haunted her life ever since, her inability to ever get close to any stallion, the revelation Shining Armor had given her, the ruined village and the grave of Zohan. Obtrillion listened to all of it, silently and ravenously devouring every word, regardless of their taste.

“And that’s what I was doing in the city, waiting for my brother to be alone so I could ask him what happened.”

Obtrillion nodded slowly, his eyes still filling with tears; “I had… truly hoped that you would be able to tell me about father."

Twilight hugged her son tightly, “I wish I could.”

“And you’ve never been able to fall in love with any stallion since?” Twilight shook her head, tears still brimming from her eyes, “Figures.” He said flatly.

“What do you mean?”

“If someone loses the person they love, it will usually be a while before they can love again, but if they remember it they can work through the pain and eventually move on. But if that pain is being held down by a mind block, you can never work through it and you can never move on. It also explains your heightened desire for children after your family erased your memory. You had recently given birth and the maternal instinct to care for a child was frozen in your subconscious.”

“Then… everything that I’ve felt has been because of what they did to me?” Obtrillion nodded, “No, there has to be another explanation.”

“I don’t make mistakes, and my special talent is for mind magic.”

“What?”

Obtrillion indicated his cuti-mark, “I’m a telepath.”

“But… telepaths are extinct. The royal alicorns have marginal abilities for mind magic, but it hasn’t been anyone’s special talent since before the solar war.”

Obtrillion nodded sheepishly, with an eager smile, “Except for me.”

Twilight felt her heart began beating faster, her breathing quickening; it wasn’t scholarly excitement, wanting to study a almost dead branch of magic it was… pride, “What can you do?”

Obtrillion paused for a moment, wrapped one hoof around her shoulder, “Don’t say anything, just think; why would Celestia block your memories of having me? What were you doing before your blackout started?”

Twilight paused; The Manehatten Project was meant to be classified, along with the Everfree War, but they were far enough from Equestria that it shouldn’t matter and this was her son. Even still, there was so much to tell that it was hard to know where to begi-

“You were working for Celestia, weren’t you; on something important;” Said Obtrillion suddenly, startling Twilight “, you… were one of her star pupils; you were doing something even she couldn’t.” Obtrillion broke into a wide grin, “I knew you were going to be smart!” But then his face fell “It was urgent, wasn’t it? Celestia needed this thing quickly or else risked losing her kingdom.” Twilight nodded against her will, “Then it’s obvious what happened, isn’t it?”

“…No.”

“Think about it.” Obtrillion urged, “When mares are pregnant or have young foals their mental capacity is dramatically reduced; not to mention the drain on your time having an infant or spending time with father. If we were slowing you down, Celestia would-”

“NO!” Twilight insisted; angry at Obtrillion for what he was suggesting and furious at the world because what he was saying almost made sense. “I would have split my time between you and The Manehatten Project; I could have done both!”

“But what if you weren’t working fast enough? What if Celestia realized you wouldn’t finish in time if you were caring for an infant son, and told you to give me to someone else to take care of until you finished. What if you refused and ran away with father to his home, and then Celestia sent soldiers to bring you back and then father and his family got in the way? It would explain every-”

“No! Celestia would never do that!”

Obtrillion looked at her blankly, “You really believe that don’t you?”

“I know so.”

Obtrillion shook his head sadly, “Celestia's a politician, they’re all the same.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then explain my existence. Explain the letter.”

“…I can’t.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….....................

A javelin streaked towards Shining Armor’s face. There was no warning, no reason, and no error in its trajectory as though it the javelin itself had been crafted for this moment. Shining Armor saw it a second before it would have been too late and summoned a shield, deflecting the javelin like it was twig. Shining Armor glanced skywards, tracing its backwards trajectory to a flat rooftop and the face of a zebra just as it disappeared from view. Shining Armor teleported to the rooftop, and caught the assassin firmly in his telekinesis as he tried to jump to the next rooftop.

In a blur, the stallion drew a small knife and tried to slash his own throat but again Shining Armor was faster and flicked the blade harmlessly away. Shining Armor tightened his grip and spun the assassin to face him, his mind buzzing with possibilities as to this stallions motives and possible connection to the buffalo invasion; then he saw that face.

He remembered that face. He remembered those eyes, burning with hatred that would blot out the sun. He remembered that burn on the left side of his body; and he remembered the scream of a colt, that he would never ever forget. “You.” Whimpered Shining Armor.

“Me.” Responded the zebra, his voice dripping with despair and hatred.

Shining Armor felt like his chest was turning to stone, he felt his grip on the zebra loosen and a moment later the zebra managed to spit at him, splattering unnoticed against his chest. Spike, and a dozen Sun Guards poured onto the rooftop, but seeing he had things under control they waited for orders which he never gave. Of all the scenarios Shining Armor had imagined for this reunion, he hadn’t imagined this. He improvised. He loosened his grip on all but the colts legs, giving him freedom of movement but not to run; “… you just tried to kill me; swear you will never do it again and I will let you go free.”

“No.”

“Please, just walk away.”

“You murdered my family.”

Shining Armor asked again, almost begging, but the stallion still refused. Shining Armor caught himself; right now five hundred Equestrian citizens were missing, here was a diversion that could take the rest of his life to resolve. Soon he would deal with this; but now he needed to put this personal problem on hold. Shining Armor wrote out a message to Cadance and had Spike send it to Canterlot. He then called Mute Wind, his most senior pegasi commander, and one of the few that had been with Shining Armor for long enough to recognize the stallion.

After quickly going through the bags he produced a quartet of shackles, a bag full of money a few other sundries and a packet of sleeping tablets. Spike belched out a rather large package and Shining Armor added it to the bundle. “Find a hotel and lay low for a while. The package is for the prisoner. The tablets will take him out for ten hours, give them to him when you need to sleep or leave for any reason; you are to be with him every minute he is conscious. As much as you possibly can, treat him well.”

Mute Wind took his dues and began to get ready to lead the prisoner away, whose breathing had significantly intensified showing he was trying to hide internal terror. He hid it behind sarcasm, “I don’t suppose I could see Twilight, could I?”

Shining Armor paused, to say yes would be to do everything he wanted, everything he feared, and everything he was sworn never to do. “No; but please believe me, I am so, so, sorry for what happened.” The stallion spat again before being hauled away by Mute Wind. As they left it occurred to Shining Armor. He never even knew this zebra’s name.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….....................

Twilight’s mind was spinning with questions; this was nothing new to her, for most of her life her mind had been constantly active seeking answers to every question that presented itself; this was nothing like that. The questions she used to wonder about history or magic or higher mathematics, she pursued for the joy of the hunt; and finding them only brought her joy if those answers led on to more questions. No final aim was in mind, and ninety-five percent of the time, there was nothing at stake in learning the answer except satisfying a burning curiosity. If she reached a dead end she would be disappointed only a moment and then distract herself with another set of questions. This was different, Twilight had to know who Zohan was, what Celestia had done, what had happened during her blackout, and who her son was today.

Those answers would have to wait.

Twilight didn’t understand why; but within an hour after arriving, Obtrillion told her that it was time to leave. He was slightly vague, but said they’d waited too long already, that the midday rush of Timbucktoo would be over soon, and they needed to move to a safe place while the streets were still crowded and it was easier to slip by unnoticed. Twilight packed her belongings; Obtrillion withdrew a brown hooded cloak from his saddlebags and asked her to follow him.

Twilight followed; blindly, she did not understand what was happening, but Obtrillion promised that once they got to a ‘safe place’ he would explain everything and Twilight would have followed him to the ends of the earth if he kept that promise. They didn’t speak as they traveled, Twilight’s eyes never leaving her son who bobbed along underneath his cloak like any school child walking down the road with his mom. A school child who had needed to make his mother promise that under no circumstances was she to say his name in public.

As midday ended, the streets cleared as the city returned to work, Obtrillion and Twilight arrived along the eastern wall of the city in a narrow corridor surrounded by high roof buildings. Obtrillion used his magic to unlock a door at the base of a guard house behind which was a flight of steps leading down into pitch blackness. Possibilities of the tunnels mysteries blew through Twilight’s mind; catacombs, sewers, a den of robbers, Obtrillion held the door open for her and she descended without a moment’s hesitation.

Obtrillion locked the door behind them and then hornlit the way forwards, deeper and deeper into the recesses of the tunnels as the temperature plummeted to approach freezing. Above, below and to both sides came the roaring hum of pipes gurgling, choking, gasping, spitting and guzzling gargantuan amounts of water; Twilight sniffed the air for sewerage but-

“These pipes channel clean drinking up to the city.” explained Obtrillion, After endless minutes of bursting silence, Obtrillion turned down a narrow ally way deep in the inner organs of the city, and stopped where two large pipes intersected before turning to Twilight.

“This is it.”

Chapter Eleven >>> Legacy of Hell/center]

11 - Legacy of Hell

Obtrillion smiled at Twilight under his horn light, “We’re near the sanctuary; there are other entrances but this is the closest, so long as you can teleport through six feet of solid rock.”

Twilight nodded to her son’s request; and began concentrating to gather the energy necessary for a teleport that powerful while taking an estimate of Obtrillion’s mass and body wei – the waterworks vanished, and Twilight was surrounded by the soft glow of mage lamps.

Twilight froze; taking several moments to negate the energy she was gathering for her own spell and then turned slowly to Obtrillion. Less than one in a thousand unicorns had the potential to teleport, most of them didn’t learn until they were adults, and only a fraction of those could teleport through solid objects, let alone carrying someone else with them. Most of the professors at the school for gifted unicorns couldn’t have done what he just did; Obtrillion… didn’t even look winded.

They were standing at the end of a hallway, with doors off to both sides and a staircase creeping behind them. Twilight guessed that whatever this place was, it had more comfortable places to speak, but they were safe now and Twilight couldn’t hold her questions anymore. She wanted to know why Obtrillion looked so young; even if he was conceived the day before Zohan’s death, he should be eighteen, but his size and face suggested he couldn’t be more than sixteen at most. She wanted to know who was trying to hurt her son, forcing him to hide underground; she wanted to know where they were. She wanted -

“Obtrin!” A young zebra mare came cantering down the hallway to meet them, zeroing in towards Obtrillion, but slowed down when she saw Twilight, eyeing her with curious caution.

Obtrillion draped one hoof around the mare’s shoulder and gave her a light kiss on the cheek, “Mom, this is Fidora. Fidora, I’d like you to meet my mother.” He said grinning, “I was right all along, my mother did want me; Celestia tricked her and blocked all memories of me and my father, so she could control her.”

Obtrillion stepped back, and gave the two mares a chance to examine each other. Fidora was a very pretty earth zebra mare who Twilight guessed was about twenty. A long, wavy mane, smelling faintly of cinnamon perfume, fell freely around a highly intelligent face, before cascading over a pair of well muscled shoulders.

Twilight wasn’t sure what to say; she hoped Fidora would be the first to speak but Fidora seemed to be waiting on her, only with less awkward tension. After a moment, Fidora slowly turned, giving Twilight a side-view of herself, but never stopped meeting Twilight’s gaze staring back with dark brown eyes.

Sensing Twilight was uncomfortable, Obtrillion spoke; “Is lunch ready?” Fidora nodded, “Well, there’s a lot to talk about, so let’s talk over lunch.” Obtrillion and Fidora turned, and began walking, closely, down the hall together, giving Twilight no choice but to follow.

Obtrillion was too young to have a marefriend!!!

Was he?

Obtrillion was at least eighteen; that was old enough to date. No; he wasn’t eighteen he was only one hour old… to her. Everything was moving too fast. Where were the adults in this place? What was behind all these doors?

They passed through a set of iron gates, into a spacious, richly furnished lounge room. To the right were four large doors, the last one, rather ornate; across the room were two open hallways and to the left was a set of double doors. In the middle of the room was a low table, stacked with dried fruits, nuts, pastries, jams a pot of steaming tea and three empty cups; surrounded by three large bean-bags.

Twilight followed Obtrillion and Fidora to the table and sat down; Fidora gestured to one of the doors on the right; “I’ve prepared the most honored guest room for you, if it lacks anything, please ask. The bathrooms are behind me, and to the left are the kitchens, feel free to help yourself at any time, and through there” she gestured to the ornate door next to hers, “Is Obtrillion’s and my bedroom.”

Twilight almost choked on the tea she was sipping, and was glad she was already sitting down. “Right now” said Obtrillion, “Your mind is too unstable for me to undo Celestia’s blocks, without ripping your mind to pieces. I’ll restore your memories if it’s the last thing I ever do, but your mind has to be settled first. We’re safe now and have time to talk, were would you like to start?”

Twilight wanted to know everything there was to know about the son and she wanted to know it now. This was a research project that could take her the rest of her life, but she decided to start with the question which was quite literally staring her in the face. “So…” she said looking between Obtrillion and Fidora, “How did you two meet?”

Obtrillion shared an affectionate gaze with Fidora, “Do you want to tell her or should I?”

“I will,” volunteered Fidora. “Obtrillion was raised in the Shaman orphanage; students of the orphanage are forbidden any contact with the outside world until their twelfth birthday. During their time at the orphanage, they are given some freedom as to which subjects they wish to specialize in, and most only study a fraction of the available materials before they graduate. When Obtrillion was nine years old he had learned every craft the school had to offer, passed every test, and read every book and scroll in the school’s library.”

“How many books were there?”

“Six thousand, four hundred and thirty one.” Smiled Obtrillion,

Twilight swallowed; to read that much that fast… then she remembered what he’d said about the letter; Shining Armor had taught Twilight to read when she was three but, “…You say you taught yourself to read when you were two?”

Obtrillion nodded, “Eight different languages.”

Twilight was at a loss for words and Fidora excitedly resumed her narration, “When Obtrillion told the curator of the orphanage that he had read everything in the library and asked for more books, the curator didn’t believe him so he took a random book off the shelf, showed Obtrillion the cover and asked him what it was about. Obtrillion quoted him the first three pages. The process repeated itself three more times, and the curator took Obtrillion to the head of the Shaman order, Ragarrock.”

Twilight couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia; nine was how old she’d been when she was adopted as Celestia’s protégé; Fidora continued, “Ragarrock’s last apprentice had just recently died in a training accident and so he was looking for a replacement. After testing Obtrillion and recognizing his unparalleled potential, Ragarrock chose him… you can imagine the political fallout from that decision.”

Died? Training accident? “… I’m not sure I understand.”

Fidora hesitated and Obtrillion explained, “Ragarrock is the wealthiest and most powerful person in Timbucktoo; covertly, he runs this country. To have a family member trained by him would create opportunities that could change the destiny of any of the great houses. Many Great Lords were hoping one of their sons would be chosen; but instead Ragarrock chose an orphan, of unknown heritage who… wasn’t even a zebra. The Lords grumbled for several weeks, until Ragarrock thought of a way to silence them, while growing even more powerful.”

Obtrillion nodded to Fidora, who hesitantly continued, “Ragarrock challenged every noble who thought their son was worthy to be his apprentice to bring them to the temple, where Ragarrock held a great tournament. Any candidate who bested Obtrillion would win his place learning at Ragarrock’s hooves, but the father of any candidate who failed would need to give Ragarrock a gift, of equal value to his tutorship.

Nine nobles were stupid enough to take Ragarrock up on his challenge, each offering huge troves of treasure for their side of the wager. Nine colts who were the best of the best, most of whom were at least twice Obtrillion's age, met him in the shamanic duels. Obtrillion slaughtered them as though they were chaff in every round of magic, history, math, astrology, healing, enchantments, herb-lore, and conflict.”

“Conflict?”

“Gladiator combat; to the death.” said Obtrillion grimly “After I killed six other competitors, the last three surrendered and I ransomed them back to their families.”

“Forced to kill - you were nine years old!”

“Ragarrock knew that I could do it and knew he could make money from it; those were the only things that mattered.”

“You were nine, years, old!”repeated Twilight helplessly.

“...Yea” said Obtrillion flatly, “I know.”

Twilight ground her teeth, to prevent herself from screaming. Children shouldn't be forced to kill, and this was her son! Did Celestia know what kind of life she had committed her son to? Did she care!? Obtrillion should never have been there, he should have been home safe with his mother... and father. After a long moment Twilight raised her head, “How is any of this related to how the two of you met?”

Fidora nodded, “After the tournament Ragarrock allowed Obtrillion to choose one quarter of the plunder for himself and even gave him first pick; I was there and he chose me.”

“...I'm sorry?”

“My uncle presented me as part of my family’s wager for my cousin to compete in the tournament. After ransoming my cousin, Obtrillion chose me as part of his share of the plunder. I was ten years old at the time; and didn't even know I'd been wagered until after the contest.”

"You're... his slave?"

“Yes.”

“No.” gasped Twilight “This is wrong. Obtrillion, you can't keep a slave!”

Obtrillion looked slightly perplexed, “Why not?”

“Slavery is evil.”

“Excuse me?” challenged Fidora rising to her hooves “I don't know what assumptions your working off of, but from the first day I served Obtrillion, he has been nothing but kind to me.”

Twilight stared in shock at this mare’s brazen disregard for her own rights. “But... you share a bedroom; I mean... he uses you as a concubine!?”

“Uses me?” snarled Fidora, “You think he forced his love on me!? I asked him!”

“What?”

“When I was fourteen I realized that I was in love with Obtrillion. When I finally confessed to him how I felt do you know what he said? Of course you don't; you weren’t there! He said he had felt the same way about me for some time, but hadn't said anything because he knew if he asked me I couldn't refuse him, and didn’t want either of us to feel like he was forcing me. That is what kind of a colt your son is; and if you were half as smart as he is you would have realized that, instead of staying away from him his entire life, then showing up out of the desert and thinking you can judge him for something you obviously don't understand!”

“Enough Fi” Commanded Obtrillion. It was not a request, it was not a suggestion, it was an order; but it came without the vehemence that Twilight had always imagined to haunt the voice of every slave master.

Fidora stopped; she did not cringe in terror like she was expecting to be hit, but she obeyed, instantly; “I'm... sorry. Forgive me.”

Twilight apologized too, insincerely, and tried to maintain a calm exterior, but on the inside felt like her world was falling apart. She wondered how she hadn’t realized Fidora was a slave until now and found the answer was disconcertingly obvious, she looked happy. Twilight saw in Fidora, the same spark that she had only seen in mares she knew were truly in love; but if Obtrillion loved her, how could he keep her enslaved? “Don’t you want to be free?”

“Let’s find out” smiled Obtrillion, “Fidora, in honor of the will of my mother, I offer you release from my service and a hundred thousand rupees with which to start your new life.”

Fidora smirked defiantly, “I'm not going.”

“It could be dangerous.”

“I'll take my chances”

“You may have to do things, ‘decent’ ponies wouldn't ordinarily do.”

“At the end of the day, will you love me?”

“Always.”

“Then I will never leave your side.”

Obtrillion slowly leaned over to kiss her, Fidora moved forward and met him more than half-way; sharing an intimate kiss, completely oblivious to Twilight who was just a few steps away. Eventually Obtrillion pulled away, a satisfied grin drawn on his face as he turned back to Twilight; "Happy?"

Twilight wasn’t happy. Her son had grown up without her, or a father. He’d been tortured as a foal, forced to kill at age nine, had intimate relations from the time he was thirteen, and was too messed up to see slavery was wrong. Twilight didn’t try to push the issue; this was the first conversation she’d ever had with her son, and… daughter-in-law; and didn’t want it to turn into an argument. She just needed to think of something less contrivesa - “You don’t have any foals do you!?”

“No yet.” Said Fidora quickly; “One day we will.”

Twilight bit her tongue before she blurted out anything else without thinking. She tried to relax, and come up with another question that wouldn’t make her seem like an idiot, and succeeded in neither. “If you’re trained as shaman, doesn’t that mean you should be speaking in rhyme?”

Obtrillion shook his head, “To speak in rhyme is not always required, nor is it something so greatly desired. It is used in the temple for tests, trials and ceremony, but in their daily lives a shaman is free.”

Fidora thought for a moment and then added, “Scarcely a shaman would make rhyming their norm, and so to this standard, we must conform. For two mares and a stallion to rhyme in contention, would do them no good but attract unwanted attention.”

Twilight cocking her ears towards Fidora, “Were you trained as a shaman too?”

Fidora shook her head, “Of course not; it’s forbidden for mares to study the shamanic arts.”

Obtrillion nodded, “Although she lived in the temple with me, she wasn’t allowed to study there but…” he gave an encouraging nod to Fidora, “She was always present whenever Ragarrock was teaching me.”

Twilight nodded, “…And I assume you were within ear shot whenever Ragarrock was instructing Obtrillion?”

“Well of course I was;” Said Fidora, “I had to be in case Obtrillion needed me for something. I couldn’t help picking up a few things when I was listening, but I wasn’t allowed to practice them, or look at the illustrations in any of the sacred texts, and besides most of the time Obtrillion and Ragarrock were moving too fast for me to have kept up with them, even if I was trying.”

Obtrillion put a hoof on Fidora’s, “It’s alright Fi, give yourself credit where credit is due.”

Fidora added, “…Well, I wouldn’t have learned much if it was just the lessons with Ragarrock; but when we were alone in our quarters, Obtrillion would always read aloud from the texts, not for my benefit mind you, he insisted that it helped him remember it better; and he also said that one of the best ways for him to remember something was to explain it to someone else.”

Twilight almost smiled, “So he trained you?”

“No.” Insisted Fidora, “I just… helped him study.”

“But let’s suppose you’d been born a colt and -”

“Fidora as a colt?” said Obtrillion, sticking his tongue out, “That doesn’t sound like a fun idea.”

Fidora giggled, kissing Obtrillion on the cheek; “I wouldn’t want to be a shaman if it cost me my privileges with Obtrillion; but if let’s say the temple began accepting female students again… I think I could probably best most stallions my age that grew up in the temple.”

Twilight nodded, “So; these lessons with Ragarrock, what were they like?”

Obtrillion shook, he looked like he was about to shout, but then just collapsed back onto his bean bag, “Please don’t ask me about that.”

“…Was it really that bad?”

Obtrillion just nodded, breathing heavily, not willing to make eye contact; “Ragarrock was fascinated at how brilliant I was, and wanted to study me, particularly how far he was able to push me. When he wasn’t taking samples of me for one purpose or another, he was drilling me endlessly on every subject you could think of, changing the rules of each challenge repeatedly to see if he could confuse me. Whenever I got a question or spell wrong or missed a rhyme, I got a painful shock as punishment, which grew worse as the trial proceeded. Some of the challenges lasted for about five or six hours, most of them went on indefinitely until I passed out from pain and exhaustion.”

A tear trickled down Twilight's cheek, “…Did it ever stop?”

“Unfortunately, yes. After I became intimate with Fidora, Ragarrock decided it was time she took a more active part in our lessons, and began giving her the punishment instead of me. Medical classes turned into Ragarrock finding a new way to hurt Fidora each lesson, and then telling me to fix her.” Obtrillion’s breathing and speaking were becoming more rapid, “He’d poison her and then tell me to diagnose it and make the antidote, break her bones and tell me to set them. Sometimes he’d give her several injuries, and I’d need to determine which needed immediate attention and which could wait a few minutes; other times he would hurt-her-in-a-way-that-would-cover-one-symptom-with-another.-Once-he-blasted-one-of-Fidora’s-legs-clean-off-and-then-told-me-to-re-attach-it-without-letting-me-use-any-pain-killers-and-if-I-ever-disobeyed-him-he-threatened-to-sell-her-to-a-brothel-or-”

“Please stop!”

Obtrillion went quiet, but that didn’t stop his last sentences ringing through her mind, growing louder with each echo. How could Celestia have let this happen? “You were six years old when I finished the Manehatten Project. You hadn’t been discovered by Ragarrock yet and the orphanage owners didn’t want you. If Celestia had told me you were there I would have come for you.”

“Children left at the temple belong to The Order, they’re not given out for adoption; but the orphanage was just like any other place in the world, anything is possible for enough money.”

“Whatever it was, I would have paid it.”

Obtrillion slowly shook his head, “It would have been expensive. The only time I saw a colt ‘adopted’ from the orphanage he cost more than five times the standard price for a slave-colt his age.”

“If I’d needed to spend my life’s savings, sell everything I owned, and spend the rest of my life repaying debt, I would have come for you.”

Obtrillion stared down at the floor; “Too late.”

Chapter Twelve >>> Waterworks

Author's Note

Any thoughts about Fidora? I like her, but she's going to be a difficult character to do well.

13 - Perspective

Twilight guided Obtrillion through streets of one of the poorer districts of Timbucktoo; her cocient beeping rapidly as they came to stop outside of a hotel. Mute Wind was inside, and with him an end to nineteen years of silence.

Obtrillion followed close behind her, anxious that he might be recognized by any of Ragerrock’s spies, and more anxious of what was about to happen. Fidora had wanted to go with them but Obtrillion had told her that this was something he and Twilight needed to do alone.

Twilight kept telling herself over and over that there had to be a reasonable explanation, knowing that if she said it enough times that she would eventually believe it. She needed answers for her own sake, but more than that she needed them for Obtrillion’s; she needed to show him that there was more to the world then what he had seen, she needed to show him that there were ponies who actually cared about each other and didn’t backstab each other at a moment’s notice.

Mute Wind was going to give her that reasonable explanation about what happened in her blackout; and then Twilight was going to take her children home. Obtrillion and Fidora would be safe in Equestria, and Twilight could take care of them so they wouldn’t have to steal. She would enroll Obtrillion into her school for gifted unicorns, and he could see how magic should be taught. Twilight wasn’t exactly sure what Fidora would do there, but believed that maybe just being in Equestria, where mares and stallions were equal, could help her begin to see herself as more than just Obtrillion’s property.

The hotel owner didn’t look up as Twilight checked the guest roster, compliments of Obtrillion’s magic, and Mute Wind's room was only too easy to find. Two voices were arguing inside; one sounded like Mute Wind, the other… was a zebra. Twilight hesitated; remembering why they had come to The Zaharren to begin with. If Twilight’s interruption threatened the hostages… maybe they could come back lat – Obtrillion knocked, and the voices went silent.

Twilight stood her ground as the door cracked open for Mute Wind, who jumped back when he saw her, obviously horrified. “Twilight!”

There was an earth zebra stallion in the back of the room, locked firmly in a set of heavy iron shackles who jumped bolt upright at the mention of her name, “Twilight!?”

Mute Wind cast a dismayed glance behind him, and then stepped between Twilight and the zebra, raising his wing to block their view of each other. “Get away from here! Go!” Mute Wind tried to slam the door on her, but Twilight caught it in her telekinesis and pushed it wider.

“What’s going on!?” she demanded.

The zebra prisoner was shuffling across the room as fast as he could, “Twilight!”

In a panic, Mute Wind tried one last time to slam the door on her and then the shackled zebra jumped on his back, trying to use his front chain to strangle him. Mute Wind twisted out of the headlock, threw the zebra to the floor, struck him across the face, snatched his lance from beside the door and raised it to strike the prisoner.

Obtrillion dashed past Twilight and tackled Mute Wind before he could kill the zebra. Mute Wind pivoted and cracked Obtrillion on the side of the head with his spear; Obtrillion fell, and then turned the lance towards Obtrillion; that was where everything stopped. A lance was descending on Twilight’s son; that was all she saw, that was all that mattered.

Twilight didn’t think, she didn't feel, she acted. Before she knew it, a beam of magic; thin, bright, powerful, shot from her horn through Mute Wind’s skull and bored a hole into the mud brick wall on the other side of the room. Mute Wind fell to one side, lifeless, a cauterized wound making an open hole through his brain.

Obtrillion and the zebra both shuffled to their hooves, Twilight and Obtrillion both regarding the stranger with suspicion who looked back at Twilight joyfully; “Twilight, is it really you?”

Twilight took a step back, “Who are you?”

“It’s me, Zomar.” When Twilight looked at him in confused he added, “I’m your brother.”

Twilight startled back, Obtrillion broke the silence; “Shining Armor and Celestia erased her memory of everything that happened in the years one thousand five to one thousand seven. She found the family village and the graves, including Zohan’s, but she doesn't remember who he is or how he died. Who are you?”

Zomar looked between them, caution mixed with joy, “I’m Zohan’s younger brother; who are you?”

“I’m Twilight’s son.”

Zomar stopped, choked once then faced him; “You’re Twilight’s son? Zohan’s son? …My nephew?”

“Yes, but please, we don’t have much time and we have to know; what happened? What happened to Zohan and the rest of our family?”

Zomar practically spat the next words, “Shining Armor happened!”

“What!?” asked Twilight.

“Shining Armor came looking for you. When you refused to go with him, he tried to take you by force. Zohan tried to save you, and Shining Armor killed him. He’d come alone that day, and after he killed Zohan the entire family came out to fight him and he fled; but the next day he returned with soldiers and they began slaughtering the entire family until you agreed to go with him. It was the last time any of us ever saw you.”

“No, there has to be some mistake.”

“There was no mistake Twilight; Shining Armor ran Zohan through on his horn not three steps away from you. Zohan died with your arms wrapped around him as you desperately tried to cast a healing spell; even though you knew it was hopeless."

“Who else was with him?” Obtrillion asked.

“I don’t know any of their names; how could I?”

“Describe them; please.”

Zomar closed his eyes and tried to think; “There was… a pink alicorn… a baby dragon with green spikes, a blue pegasus with a six colored mane, a red unicorn with a black mane… a pegasus that didn’t say much… a few earth ponies…”

Obtrillion turned to Twilight, “Do any of them sound familiar to you.”

Twilight didn’t answer, she couldn’t, none of this could be true... it couldn’t.

Zomar continued, “Those few of us who survived Shining Armor, fled out lands from raiders and dispersed into Timbucktoo, landless and-”

“Shhh!”

Zomar and Twilight both stopped at Obtrillion’s command and a moment later, they heard hoofbeats running across the roof above them, each bearing a peculiar ring to them. Obtrillion looked scared, “Temple Assassins.” He whispered, “They found me.”

Zomar indicated his chains; Obtrillion swung towards Twilight, “Run to the hideout! I’ll be right behind you as soon as I get Zomar’s chains undone!”

“No I’m not leav-”

“We don’t have time to argue! GO!" before Twilight could protest she felt her body teleported and then next thing she knew she was on the street outside, facing in the direction of Obtrillion’s hideout. She should go back! No-by the time she got back they would just argue and then they would die. She should run. If she ran, the assassins might chase after her instead of Obtrillion. Twilight took off at a headlong gallop, taking an indirect route towards the hideout as she tried to remain visible.

It worked.

She’d barely made it to the corner when a powerful blast of energy missed her by centimeters and shattered the wall behind her. The shockwave sent her skidding on her side with the air knocked out of her in a singular feat of agony. Dust was around her; in her eyes and in her lungs, the ravaged wall began collapsing onto her.

It was too late to raise a shield; she had just enough time to clear her vision, to watch herself die, when there was another energy shield around her; and the silhouette of Obtrillion standing over her. The collapsing wall crumbled around Obtrillion's shield, and then another energy blast hit, shattering the shield as the blast deflected sideways, striking the next building over, and summoning a deluge of smaller rubble that showered over them. Without enough time to cast another shield, Obtrillion threw himself over Twilight, momentarily mindless of the indecency as he used himself to shelter and as much of her head and torso as he could.

After the shower of gravel passed, Obtrillion returned fire and then rolled Twilight to her hooves. There was a teleport, and then another, with a third bringing them near the entrance to Obtrillion’s hideout, which they had come out earlier. “Zomar… didn’t make it.” panted Obtrillion, “Are you…all right?” Twilight stood, trying to get her bearings, struggling with the idea of gaining and losing a brother within minutes of each other; then she noticed a thin trickle of blood dripping down Obtrillion’s chin. Thinking Obtrillion must be cut on the other side of his face, she moved for a better look, and then let out a small scream.

The entire right side of his face was caked in blood, flowing from an open wound through his mane. Obtrillion swayed for a moment and then collapsed onto his left side as his wounded left side, slick with blood, reflected the sun’s red glare like molten lead. He began coughing, struggling to remain conscious; “Fidora... she's... a healer.”

As gently and quickly as she could, Twiilght wrapped Obtrillion in frantic telekinesis and galloped down the steps into the den. When Fidora saw Obtrillion, her eyes showed horror deeper than her own, but acted with professionalism astonishing for one so young. Sweeping them both into the master bedroom where Fidora asked Twilight to lay him down on the bed and then threw her out, saying she couldn’t work with her there. It all happened so fast that before Twilight knew what was happening she was standing outside of a locked door. For about thirty seconds there was nothing but silence, and then Twilight heard the operation begin in earnest.

Twilight could do nothing but stand at a rigid attention; she knew something about shaman healing techniques, but only in theory. If a skilled Shaman treated a wound within minutes from infliction, they could deliver seemingly supernatural results; taking someone from the gates of death to complete recovery within an hour. Flesh was melted and welded together, without a scar, bones were frozen together without a fracture, and if the operating shaman made the slightest miscalculation in timing, dosage or administration, if the shaman fell for even the slightest distraction, it was over.

Nineteen years ago, Twilight's husband had died in her arms and then she forgot about him. Now, not four meters away, her son was dying, and she was powerless to help him.

Inside; Twilight heard Obtrillion groaning in pain; Fidora groaned with him, her breath coming in hard gasps as she almost seemed to cry. Maybe she was using some shamanic spell that split the pain between them, or maybe she just felt his pain as her own from the feelings they shared, but the situation was just as it had always been. Fidora was by Obtrillion’s side, sharing his pain and helping him, and Twilight was outside, useless just like she had always been!

Twilight should be in there helping Fidora, but there was nothing she could do. Unicorn healing spells and Shamanic arts didn’t mix well, and when he was hurt, Obtrillion wanted Fidora to help him. He didn’t trust Twilight to there when he needed help, and why should he when she had never been there for him?

After nineteen years she had finally found that she had a son, and now she was losing him on the same day. He was a thief, he was a con-artist, but that was just what he had been forced to become in order to survive. Underneath, he had a good heart and loved Fidora even though she was his slave, and that loved Twilight enough he was willing to die for her, even though he'd only just met her. She should have died for him!

If Obtrillion was a criminal, it was her fault. Twilight had never been there, to teach him, to nurture him, to keep him safe. If his father hadn't been murdered, if he hadn't been stolen from his mother Twilight was sure Obtrillion would have been honest. Obtrillion had made the best life he could with woefully inadequate materials, and Twilight wouldn’t let anyone condemn him for it.

Inside the room Twilight could hear Fidora’s operation becoming more and more frantic, like she was trying to resuscitate him. Twilight almost ran in to share her son's final moments but if her interruption disrupted a critical moment of Fedora’s work and cost Obtrillion his life she would never forgive herself. Then, in a terrible moment, Fidora cried out his name in rapid succession, “Obtrin! Obtrin! Obtrin! Obtrin!” and then... all was silent.

Twilight waited at the door, horrified that if she went in there, she would find Obtrillion dead from his wound, and Fidora slumped over him, dead of a broken heart. There was no movement, and Twilight wept.

She’d killed him. If she’d never come to Timbucktoo, Obtrillion would still be alive. If she hadn’t made that stupid Cocient he would still be alive. If he hadn’t followed her, he would still be alive! Obtrillion had trusted her, loved her, and in return she'd led him to his death.

The floor around Twilight became moist with tears, and then, the door opened and Obtrillion was standing there. He was standing weakly, as though he’d lost a lot of blood, but he was alive, and brimming with elation because of it. Twilight took several moments to be sure she wasn't just seeing things then threw her hooves around her son's neck, drawing him into a deep embrace. Behind Obtrillion, Twilight saw Fidora, positively glowing with satisfaction. “Thank you!” she sobbed “Thank you for saving him.”

“It was my pleasure” Fidora smiled peacefully.

Twilight's had lost her friends, her family and her country. She had her son. She had missed every day of his life before now, but now she had found him and wanted to spend whatever was left of her life knowing him. If sharing his life meant leaving Equestria, and living on the run with him as a criminal; then so be it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Obtrillion crouched at the door beside Twilight, listening to the voices inside; he was certain that the Equish one was Mute Wind; the Zaharren one… sounded like Zomar. His presence here surprised and disturbed Obtrillion, he thought he’d found everyone from that family.

Obtrillion amplified the doubts in Twilight’s mind to make her hesitate, and listened; as a patiently exasperated Mute Wind, ordered the Zomar to at least read Shining Armor’s side of the story even if he didn’t believe it. Zomar flatly refused.

When he knocked on the door; Obtrillion felt Mute Wind’s surprise at the interference; when he saw Twilight, Obtrillion was able to take advantage of his shock. Obtrillion had never dealt with Mute Wind’s mind before, but was still found the trigger to amplify his natural panic; causing his need to protect Twilight from Zomar to eclipse all tact or reason.

When Zomar was thrown to the floor, Obtrillion tackled Mute Wind, foregoing eleven different ways he could have killed him, and then let himself be knocked down. He fed more energy into Mute Winds combat trained reflexes, watched his lance descend upon him, and made sure Twilight saw it.

As expected; she killed him.

Obtrillion didn’t know if his mother had ever killed Equestrians before. He didn’t know what she would have done in normal circumstances; but here, she made an irrevocable decision to choose him over Equestria; and set the precedent that Obtrillion was worth killing for.

During the conversation with Zomar; Obtrillion had to fight to keep quiet the part of Zomar’s mind that said this was all a trick by Shining Armor. Instead he focused his emotions on the loneliness and hatred he’d carried most of his life, and the hope that with Obtrillion and Twilight there, he would have a family again. As the conversation progressed, Obtrillion played with his memory verbal cortex; he couldn’t directly ‘control’ Zomar, but he could direct the focus of his subconscious mind to help choose which details of the massacre bubbled to his conscious mind, what order they came in, and most importantly, what phrasing Zomar used with each piece of information.

Zomar however, would never have time to contemplate his bizarre choice of words. When he had told Twilight everything Obtrillion wanted her to hear; he reached out with his magic and grabbed several large pots he had seen on the roof of the hotel, on his way in. He shattered them, and rattled their shards across the roof. “Shhh!” he whispered, “Temple Assassins; they found me.”

Zomar indicated his chains; Obtrillion swung towards Twilight, “Run to the hideout! I’ll be right behind you as soon as I get Zomar’s chains undone!”

“No I’m not leav-”

“We don’t have time to argue! GO!” Obtrillion teleported Twilight out of the room, and then turned to Zomar. He flipped his own mane over to fall on the left side, picked up Mute Wind’s lance and used it to slash three jagged lines across the left side of his uncle’s neck. As he used his magic to silence his uncle’s dying screams, he pressed the right side of his face against Zomar’s neck to get as much blood on himself as possible.

As Zomar’s corpse dropped to the floor, Obtrillion glanced over the papers spread out over the back table; copies old family photo albums from when Twilight and Shining Armor were foals, a long heartfelt letter from Shining Armor to any member of Zomar’s family he might encounter and several other similar objects. Obtrillion burnt them all to ashes with a flick of his horn. Obtrillion knew the story behind his birth; Twilight didn’t and, for the moment, it needed to stay that way.

Moments later, Obtrillion teleported to the roof of the hotel, saw Twilight as she made a dash for it, and shot her with a magic missile. It was a direct hit, only slightly grazing her back but shattering the wall behind her. As Twilight fell, Obtrillion launched a second missile, then teleported beside Twilight and summoned an energy shield just strong enough to break as he deflected his own attack

Obtrillion threw himself over his mother to protect her from the rain of debris and then shot three energy blasts back at the hotel he had just been in, decimating the rooms around Mute Wind’s. He rolled Twilight to her hooves and cast several teleports, bringing them to the eve of one of the entrances to his hideout. “Zomar… didn't make it” he breathed, pretending to be hurt, “Are you... alright?”

Obtrillion turned, allowing her to see his blood soaked right half and then collapsed, hyperventilating, “Obtrillion!”

“Fidora... she's... a healer” he gasped as he convulsed and began flickering his eyes for theatrical effect.

Obtrillion let his mother carry him into the sanctuary, during which he cast one final hex over her, enhancing the nature that resided in nearly all creatures, to interpret what she heard in the context of what she expected.

As soon as Fidora shut the door Obtrillion sat up, took a wet towel from the water basin, wiped his face, tossed it on the floor and then turned to Fidora; whose bereft shock was quickly turning to intrigued amusement.

“We need to make my mom think your performing frantic surgery to save my life.” He whispered, “Whatever we do, there should be a lot of heavy breathing, some moans and maybe even a few yelps might be appropriate.” He scooted over to the other side of the bed, “Do you have any ideas?”

Chapter Fourteen >>> When Siblings Collide

Chapter Seventeen >>> Slavegirl to Continue with Twilight

Author's Note

I notice that a lot of people stop reading after this chapter. Would anyone like to articulate anything specific that they didn't like about it?

By now you have enough data to start forming a coherent theory about what happened during Twilight's blackout; thoughts?

15 - Tomorrow When The War Began

Olive Pit raced blindly through a burning street of Ponyville behind Skate Grind and B-Sharp. One seriously huge buffalo was chasing them from behind, a wall of fire was reaching out to grab them from the left and all around them, smoke was trying to blind and suffocate them.

None of this was supposed to be happening!

Olive Pit and his friends had been sleeping peacefully when the door slammed open, and Skate Grind’s brother charged in, shouting that they needed to get up now! Olive Pit was surprised that Skate Grind’s older brother seemed so angry when they hadn’t done anything wrong. Usually he was really nice, like taking Olive Pit and his friends to Youtherd and booking a venue so tomorrow so they could put on the rock concert of the century and get their cutie-marks for-

He must have overslept and be late for his own concert!

Olive Pit jumped out of bed and ran to the living room to get his daddy’s guitar, but when he opened the door there was burst of heat. The living room was on fire! All the instruments he had borrowed from his daddy were in there! Olive Pit took a breath and had dashed into the room, but he only made it two steps before Skate Grind’s brother bit down on his tail and yanked him out of the room, slamming the door behind him with all of his daddy’s instruments; then pushed Olive Pit and his friends outside.

Why were the other buildings on fire? Skate Grind’s older brother yelled for Olive Pit and his friends to follow him so they did, like, what else could they do? They made it about three streets down and then a buffalo jumped out from behind a building; Skate Grind's older brother jumped on it and then shouted for them to run.

Run?

Run where?

Olive Pit didn’t know where to go, he didn’t even know where he was; if they were in Manehatten he and his friends knew any number of neat hiding places; but they’d only arrive in Ponyville that morning. B-Sharp and Skate Grind started running, leaving white and gray streaks behind them, and so Olive Pit followed.

Everywhere Olive Pit looked he saw burning buildings, angry buffalo, and ponies being dragged around in nets; then the seriously huge buffalo saw Olive Pit and his friends, and began chasing them. Skate Grind was trying to fly but he couldn’t get more than a few feet off the ground; and then B-Sharp shouted something about casting an invisibility spell. Did B-Sharp know an invisibility spell? Olive Pit never found out.

B-Sharp started focusing to cast the spell, but then bumped into Skate Grind which knocked B-Sharp's sunglasses off his face. He turned around to get them, then didn’t look where he was going and slipped in a puddle of ketchup that someone had left on the road. Skate Grind and Olive Pit turned back to catch him, but by the time they reached him the huge buffalo was already almost on top of them.

Olive Pit tried to scream, but before he could get a sound out, somepony’s arm wrapped around him and then suddenly he was flying really fast. Olive Pit held on as hard as he could; in hind sight, holding on by biting the arm of whoever was holding him, probably hadn’t been the best idea, but it was the only one he had, and whoever was holding him didn’t let go.

After a few seconds they were outside of Ponyville, and suddenly they were falling way, way, way too fast. Just when Olive Pit was certain they were going to die, the pegasus swooped, slowed down and landed on a grassy hill at the edge of a big apple orchard. A hoof grabbed Olive Pit’s chin and pried him off the arm he was holding and Olive Pit tumbled a few feet to the ground; landing on top of Skate Grind and next to B-Sharp. He looked up to see the awesome looking red pegasus colt who’d saved them, with a frizzy, rainbow colored mane drifting in the breeze.

“Run into the Apple Orchard and hide until the buffalo are gone.” He commanded, checking each foal quickly, before spreading his wings and pivoting back towards Ponyville leaving a trail of rainbow and loose grass in his wake.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sky Fire sacrificed several seconds to make sure the colts weren’t hurt; and then launched back towards Ponyville; gaining enough altitude to gain a, pegas-eye view of the town. Most of the other pegasi were hightailing it out of there; a few carried earth ponies or unicorns with them, but most were just scampering off to save their own skins. The town was surrounded; each exit blocked by a small force of buffalo marauders, while the rest of the army raided the town, herding everyone towards the main plaza. Ponies that got past the perimeter weren’t pursued.

Sky Fire chose his first target and plummeted towards a squad of buffalo guarding one escape route, two ponies bound in nets, and one pony corpse. There would be eight of them against him, but that was OK because he was awesome and they weren’t.

Sky Fire slammed into a nearby statue, raining shrapnels of vandalism onto the buffalo which would have knocked a pony unconscious. From the way the stones bounced feebly off the buffalo’s thick hides, Sky Fire concluded that these guys were tough. From the way the buffalo scattered from his attack, even though it wasn’t dangerous to them, and then fell back in a disorganized mess, Sky Fire knew they were not combat trained.

The statue snapped at the base and fell; missing the buffalo but still creating some uneven terrain which would be hard for the buffalo to gallop over. Sky Fire lunged towards one of the buffalo; narrowly avoiding the pointy end of a horn, and launched a roundhouse kick which would have broken most ponies’ necks, that only made a dissatisfying ‘clunk’ against the buffalo’s jaw.

This was the first time Sky Fire had fought buffalo, he didn’t know their weak points and their long fur made it difficult to guess; but after a minute of intensive research, he’d concluded they held their heads too low for their throats to make easy targets, their necks were too wide for him to get his hooves around to break, blows that would have cracked a pony’s skull just bounced off their thickheads, and getting close enough to try any of these involved getting a lot closer to those horns than Sky Fire felt comfortable with.

He needed leverage, and settled on a wooden flag pole, claiming Ponyville as Snare Blade territory. Slamming the flag onto the pavement, he snapped the tip to make a spear which added an extra yard to his attack range; just in time to answer the next buffalo with a solid rebuke which won him a pained grunt.

The rest hesitated, no one wanting to be the first to charge, and Sky Fire waited; twirling the spear around himself in a rapid succession of feints. Sky Fire advanced on the guy in front of him, who fell back, howling and flailing his horns wildly. The guy seemed like a wimp, but on the other hoof, he might have just been trying to distract Sky Fire from his three buddies who were charging him from behind.

Sky Fire waited until their forward momentum was too much to stop suddenly, then pivoted and dropped to one knee, leveling spear with the throat of the centre buffalo. Rather than impale himself, the buffalo took a hard right, and crashed horn-first into the guy beside him. The left buffalo kept coming however, causing Sky Fire to roll to the right; allowing the buffalo’s horn to pass through the feathers on his left wing.

Sky Fire let out a shriek of pain, dropping his left wing and dragging it limply on the ground. Two more buffalo were quick to to monopolize on his ‘weakness’ and came charging. Sky Fire again waited until they were too close to turn and then his left wing shot up in unison with the right, and he sailed over them. One buffalo kept going, stumbled over the wreckage of the statue and smashed into the stone pedestal; the other swerved and slowed down, making himself an easy target for Sky Fire to impale with his spear which he drove between the buffalo’s shoulder blades. There wasn’t even a cry from pain from this one, he just took two more steps and then slumped over, dead.

Of the five buffalo that remained standing; one was thrown through the support beam of a burning balcony which collapsed on top of him, the second left his throat exposed, the third ran off howling into the night after Sky Fire snatched out his eye, and the fourth scampered off when Sky Fire stared him in the eye. This left Sky Fire with one last enemy, a grey bearded elder; who Sky Fire assumed had been the leader of this group.

The elder was standing over the half-living corpse of the buffalo whose trachea Sky Fire had broken; three minutes on and he was still sputtering for air, but his lips were turning blue, and he grew weaker with each gasp. The elder glanced rapidly between the dying youth and Sky Fire; each glance into the face of the youth confirmed the elder’s realization that he was beyond saving, and each glance at the face of the elder made Sky Fire more certain that he saw a family resemblance. The blood on the elder’s horns didn’t testify to innocence; “Why are you doing this!?”

A phantom of an emaciated squeak became the last breath of the suffocated buffalo; and a bellowing roar of grief and hatred came from his father; who lowered his horns at Sky Fire, and began to charge.

Sky Fire charged him in return.

If Sky Fire leaped upwards he could attack the elder from above, but didn’t. They got closer. If Sky Fire jumped to the side he could dodge him, but didn’t. Now it was too late, the elder’s horns were ready to gore in whichever way Sky Fire dodged; he was at least three times heavier then Sky Fire and had a skull that could crush his like a walnut.

When Sky Fire could see the flaring hatred of the elder’s eyes, he dropped and twisted; landing flat on his back with his wings outstretched. Sky Fire skidded on the wet grass and raised one hoof; letting the elder’s own weight drive the sharpened point into his flesh. Sky Fire passed unscathed from under the buffalo elder that stumbled haphazardly forwards; then gained about twenty feet of altitude which he then turned into a plunge, channeling fifteen years of training through his hind hooves and onto the back of the buffalo’s skull, smashing him into the earth.

Sky Fire observed his carnage; he wasn’t sure which buffalo were dead or unconscious, but none of them would be an obstacle to any escaping ponies. He dashed towards the two ponies that were trapped in nets tied to a lamp post; reached under his mane, removed a concealed hairclip, and unfolded a blade that was too small to make a useful weapon, but made short work of the thick, coarse rope.

The first of the prisoners was free in seconds; helped Sky Fire get the lock off his horn and then, after admitting he had no idea how to fight, followed Sky Fire’s advice and ran for the orchard. Sky Fire turned to the other prisoner, a unicorn filly who was unhurt, but trembling uncontrollably at the bottom of her net, whose eyes never left him.

Where the colt had at least had the sense to help untie himself, this girl was trembling too much to even do that. Sky Fire cut her bonds and pulled the net off her; but the filly remained immobile. Sky Fire replaced his concealed blade, grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up after which she finally came alive, wrapping her hooves around his neck; clinging to him for protection.

“You need to run to the orchard.” He whispered. The filly, couldn’t manage to speak, let alone run, and so Sky Fire hoisted her onto his back, carried her a few hundred yards from the town perimeter, and dropped her onto a pile of hay where she could get over the shock at her own pace.

With an escape route cleared, Sky Fire took back to the sky, searching out ponies that hadn’t been captured and directing them to the safe exit. Beneath him, a buffalo bull and cow were charging side by side, chasing, and quickly gaining on a unicorn mare. Sky Fire fell between them; placed his hind hooves on the cow, his front hooves on the bull and pushed. The bull stumbled, tripping over himself several times before steadying himself, but the cow went crashing through the wall of a burning building.

The bull spun around to see where his partner had gone; glared with murderous hate at Sky Fire, then let out a cry of grief and then stampeded into the raging inferno. Moments later, the building collapsed over the both of them, and any ponies that might have been trapped inside.

Sky Fire shouted directions to the escaping mare and then moved on.

Rising over the pyre of the town hall; Sky Fire saw a comet streak towards ground level, trailing an array of primordial colors. Without thinking, Sky Fire flew to meet Sky Blaze and found her diving in from the opposite end of a wide street containing a score of buffalo. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, in silent instantaneous agreement and then both angled their attacks towards another elder who stood half way between them. Reaching him in the same instant with their hind hooves, there was a sharp crack as the buffalo went down, and both pegasi pushed skywards.

Three seconds later they were after their next target, who raised his horns to gore Sky Blaze, but she simply flew past, a few safe inches out of harm’s reach. The buffalo strained to reach her anyways, leaving himself totally unprepared for Sky Fire to swoop in low and hard, breaking one of his knees out from under him.

They switched places and struck again, this time Sky Fire provided the decoy while Sky Blaze snapped a kneecap. Now however, a heifer, not much older than Sky Blaze who’d seen what they did last time, predicted their movement, and hurled a hooked bolas at Sky Blaze before she had time to regain momentum.

Sky Fire instantly double-backed, snatched the bolas out of midair and swung one end down the throat of a buffalo that had chosen a fatal moment to inhale, and then twirled the other around the horn of another bull who was charging past. The hook split the first buffalo from the thorax to the jaw where it snagged; sweeping the second buffalo off his hooves with its sudden resistance, leaving him helpless as Sky Fire’s bucked his trachea.

A weighted net appeared above Sky Fire from out of the starless sky, but before it had the chance to ground him, Sky Blaze caught it from above, hoisted it into the face of another buffalo, and then fell like an ax through the temple of the heifer who’d thrown the bolas.

When Sky Blaze called, Sky Fire answered, and the same was true for him. They fought with one purpose, shared one mind, and became one power. In half the time it had taken Sky Fire to take out the eight, twenty buffalo were either dead, unconscious or had fled from the winged menaces which harried them.

They spiraled victorious through the smoke, looking for their next targets when on the other side of town, jets of white flame erupted into the atmosphere. Both pegasi shielded their eyes, but were already racing towards the source of the impact; seeing at the same instant that the hospital was on fire, which they both found equally disconcerting, given that the hospital was made of stone.

In front of the hospital, eight buffalo, draped in intricate gold and azure cloth, stood like statues; carrying an enormous blue palanquin. Inside the palanquin the twins could see the silhouette of a unicorn, its horn glowing like the sun as a ring of shining runes was wrapped around the hospital. Being one of the largest buildings in Ponyville and solid construction, the hospital made like a natural fortress, and through the shattered front doors Sky Fire could see a claustrophobic mess of civilians who’d crammed themselves inside for protection.

In front of the hospital gates a pseudo defense force, mostly of unicorns, was trying to hold the chokepoint. Among them, Sky Fire thought he saw Winnow Hoof; around them, the broken bodies of at least a dozen buffalo that testified to their temporary effectiveness.

Five unicorns concentrated fire on the palanquin and all five beams were deflected by a shield which then released a shockwave, knocking the defenders unconscious. The glowing ring of runes finished encircling the hospital and then exploded, transforming into a ring of blue fire, and then the entire hospital began crumpling; not splintering or breaking like stone should, but crumpling, as if the entire building was made of paper and a pair of giant hooves was rolling it into a ball. Screams of a hundred ponies echoed from inside, and the squished herd began scrambling into the open air, only to be trapped by the flames.

That was all Sky Fire needed to see, and it was all the opportunity Sky Blaze needed. They soared and dove as one, then split half way to attack the unicorn inside the palanquin from opposite directions. They were fast, fearless, deadly, and dove directly into twin beams of brilliant blue light.

Chapter Sixteen >>> Hope From Ashes

Author's Note

One more Clastic Stain + Dinky chapter, and then we're back to Twilight.

16 - Hope From Ashes

Clastic Strain was nodding... nodding... gone. There were just three questions left on the chapter he was reading, and then he would have earned the right to six hours of beautiful, uninterrupted sleep. He really shouldn't go to bed before he finished this exercise, he couldn't, and he wasn't; he was just laying his head down for a fifteen minute nap.

Someone started banging on the farmhouse door.

Clastic Strain jumped with a groan, and stumbled downstairs; half-dreaming that Professor Sparkle had come to scold him for missing a test. Instead, it was just some pegasus gasping that Ponyville had been attacked by - Clastic Strain slammed the door on him before he could finish his sentence.

Four minutes later there was a second runner. The third one was bleeding, smelled like smoke and convinced Clastic Strain to at least take a look. Fifty feet of altitude showed the fires of Ponyville, and a forty foot drop through Benefair’s window followed soon afterwards. He kicked her bed frame, yelled for her to get up, and then skidded across the hall, lifted Crackle Jack a few feet off his bed with telekinesis and then dropped him.

As Crackle Jack moaned an inaudible curse, Clastic Strain was already in Winnow’s room looking for his youngest brother to wake him up, but the bed was empty. Clastic Strain spun around to check if Winnow was in the bathroom, then realized that Winnow’s coat was gone… and so was his war games set.

Clastic Strain stormed out of the farmhouse and began flying towards Ponyville; followed by Benefair and Jack who shouted unanswered questions. They arrived too late. The trio arrived to a broken town, without any buffalo and hardly any ponies. Laneways lit by house fires were smeared with blood, littered occasionally by the dead or wounded, left in various stages of safety, pain and consciousness.

Clastic Strain ignored them for now, and bee lined for Board Swipe's house at the end of a street which was alight with flames. Clastic Strain shed his coat and plunged inside; making his way by trial and error into the smoke infested basement. The ground was littered with corpses, some armed, some disarmed, many dismembered in the most gruesome ways. They were all figurines, no real ponies were inside.

Clastic Strain made it back outside; wheezing, singed, but alive, and tripped over an unconscious earth pony. When he knocked a cough out from the colt, Clastic Strain turned around, recognized the colt, dragged him to the fountain at the end of the street and dunked his head under. When Board Swipe’s legs started flailing, Clastic Strain let him up, then threw him to the ground; “Where is Winnow!?”

Swipe sputtered and choked; Clastic Strain waited impatiently; but could make out Board choke out the word ‘gone’, as he pointed west. Clastic Strain pivoted into the air, past the smoke and cast a spell to momentarily enhance his eyesight. On the dark horizon, he could see barely hundreds of buffalo, galloping away from Ponyville dragging hundreds of ponies behind them. By now they were about ten miles out, but he could still catch them if-

“Clastic Strain!”

Clastic Strain looked down, Benefair was beneath him, holding a high school student in her magic who’d had nearly half his fur burned off, and was withering in pain. He felt nauseous, and like he wanted to scream, and that was just from looking at the injured colt. He’d studied battle, and the sorts of injuries that could occur, but with the smell of burnt skin and the sight of exposed bone, this was the first time any of it became real.

If the buffalo had taken prisoners, it meant they needed them for something, meaning the prisoners were safe… for now. Some of the ponies below him couldn’t wait for help, and who knew how many more were trapped in burning buildings.

What would dad do?

Clastic Strain took stock of the situation, chose his priorities, and flew towards the lake. Dozens of fresh rain clouds had been stockpiled to fuel the waterslide throughout Youtherd; Clastic Strain grabbed as many of them as he could and began clubbing house fires with the watery masses.

The first batch of clouds was used within minutes and Clastic Strain returned to the waterslide for more clouds; only to find they were occupied. Clastic Strain counted nine pegasi sitting idly on some of the lower clouds, just watching the village burn. “Follow me in as I put out the fires,” commanded Clastic Strain, “Split into groups of three and begin searching houses for trapped and injured ponies.”

Two ponies stood up, seven sat, one spoke; “You can’t go into a building that’s been on fire, it could collapse on-” CRACK!

A bolt launched from Clastic Strain’s horn, striking the pegasus who went tumbling off the cloud, ten feet to the ground below. It was just a stun spell, but Clastic Strain did a convincing job of making it look dangerous, and he didn’t give the other pegasi a chance to check their comrade. “Split into teams of two, and start searching those houses; NOW.”

Those eight pegasi suddenly became cooperative; and after an organized relief effort was underway, other survivors began gathering. Some simply showed up and started helping with hardly saying a word, but most needed to be asked before they would do anything useful. The ponies that actually lived in Ponyville, whose houses and businesses had burned, were the hardest hit. Many of them simply walked among the ruined celebrations in a dazed stupor, or wept over the body of a loved one.

Then there was the last group of ponies, too angry and vengeful to do anything except take their frustrations out on any buffalo they could find who’d been too wounded to retreat. Clastic Strain would chase a group of them off whichever buffalo they’d been mobbing, and yell at them to start digging in the ruins of the hospital for desperately needed medical supplies, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once, and neither could he post a guard to protect each prisoner, or keep them from escaping.

He needed someone he could trust, and that someone was Tia. She’d arrived just a few minutes after he had, and fallen in behind Benefair in tending burn victims. At first he let her be, but after Clastic Strain found one street where half a dozen buffalo were having the remainder of their lives beaten out of them, he sent Tia to arrange a prison hospital there, and gave Big Mac a wagon with orders to start collecting the rest of the prisoners.

Clastic Strain… couldn’t assign her any medical supplies. He knew that some of the buffalo might not survive without them, but they had been the ones who’d attacked, and there weren’t enough for everyone to have what they needed. Tia argued briefly with him, but when she knew he wouldn’t change his mind, she set to work doing what she could without complaint.

After the rainclouds had been exhausted, some of the houses began catching back alight, but so long as they had already been searched for ponies, Clastic Strain was willing to let them burn. Unfortunately, not everyone felt the same way. Sometimes the house owners tried to go back in for their possessions, sometimes looters decided to see what they could get, sometimes either group got caught in a re-ignited house and sometimes these two groups ran into each other. Whichever way it turned out, all it meant for Clastic Strain was more injured for an overloaded, under-staffed and under-supplied medical team.

The night was brutal, gut wrenching, backbreaking and heartbreaking; and just like rain clouds and morphine, Clastic Strain’s adrenaline was not an inexhaustible supply. By the time the sun had risen however, smiling merrily to itself as it pranced through the sky, the worst of the struggle had ended. Clastic Strain was sitting by himself, covered in soot and splotches of blood, wishing for a cup of coffee, and that’s when he saw her.

She was shuffling through the crowed of injured ponies; not striding purposely, not cantering, daring anyone to stand in her way, but shuffling, ears drooped as if she’d been hurt, although physically she looked fine. Clastic Strain was by Dinky’s side in an instant, noticing that, even against a face wet from rain Clastic Strain could see clear lines on her face from where she’d been crying. It was the first time that Clastic Strain had ever seen her that she actually looked… vulnerable. “They took my mom.”

Clastic Strain nodded, “They got Winnow as well.”

Dinky’s eyes clouded some, and Clastic Strain became aware she was looking past him to where Benefair and Crackle Jack were rationing out a bottle of aspirin someone had found, then behind them to Canterlot in the distance. “…She’s all I have.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get them back, we just-”

“How!?” demanded Dinky, “By now the buffalo have a four hour head start; and the closest military garrison is in Canterlot. We’ll never catch them on hoof!”

“Canterlot will send airships and-”

“Airships!? Every wind within thirty miles of the buffalo’s course is heading east. It doesn’t matter what altitude they fly at, Canterlot airships won’t work.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“I know.” Dinky hissed, “Airships. Won’t. Work.”

“… Then I’ll fly them down.”

Dinky Snorted, “The whole army? By yourself?”

“So long as I’m airborne I can pick them off one by on-”

“What are you going to do about the unicorn in the palanquin who was blasting pegasi out of the sky?”

“I can deal with one unicorn.”

“Not this one!” shrieked Dinky. “I was able to get a MQ rating of it when it missed me; twelve hundred and forty-four!”

Clastic Strain stopped cold. That was four points short of Celestia, almost twice as strong as Professor Sparkle. “There has to be a mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake! And it wasn’t a white elephant either! It was a unicorn!”

“… What do you suggest then?”

Dinky swallowed, fighting back tears, “… Come with me.” Clastic Strain looked around; the wounded were mostly cared for, and the panic of the attack was melting away, his siblings were standing behind him listening. “Come with me” Dinky repeated, “… please.”

Before Clastic Strain knew it, Clastic Strain was following Dinky towards the outskirts of Ponyville with Benefair and Crackle Jack in tow. “Where are you taking us?”

“My house.” Sniffed Dinky slightly. The journey wasn’t long; but as they moved out of the area the buffalo had hit, and charred masses gave way to healthy houses, the effect on the scenery was almost as radical as the change that happened in Dinky.

Her breathing became steady to fit the steady trot they were in and as they went she almost regained a portion of her usual gleam momentarily before stopping outside a ruined one room cottage, smaller than Clastic Strain’s walk-in closet at home. “This is it.”

Clastic Strain halted… this was where Dinky lived. He’d always guessed she was poor from working at Sugarcube Corner and supporting her mom but this… a ragged lawn draped haphazardly in a tattered picket fence, void of any garden or veggie patch. When Dinky opened the door, the inside was even worse. Wooden cabinets had their doors almost fallen off, revealing barren shelves in the middle of summer, the roof was almost non-existent and would be virtually useless during winter.

Clastic Strain didn’t know why Dinky had wanted to bring him here; it seemed irrelevant to the current crisis but at the same time he wished she had shown him this years ago. This wasn’t a way for anyone to live.

Waves of guilt of the opulence he’d been born to began falling on him like bricks and he promised himself that once their families were safe, he would make Dinky accept his help. Clastic Strain looked back and forth, there wasn’t any bed; no mattress, no pile of hay… not so much as a rug or mat. “Where do you sleep at night?”

“In there.” Dinky point towards a tattered blue wardrobe in the corner; Clastic Strain hesitated, then took a tentative step towards the box, half-imagining that he could hear the screams of Dinky begging to be let out as a child. “It was my father’s, and it’s the warmest place in the house to sleep at night… would you like to see inside?”

No. Clastic Strain could think of nothing he’d hate more. His mind warped with images of rusted nails still sticking into the sides of it to make it – the doors swung open, and Clastic Strain’s knees went weak. “Welcome to the TARDIS.” Smirked Dinky, trotting past him and into a courtyard of paved stone.

Chapter Seventeen >>> Slave Girl

Author's Note

Back to Twilight in the next chapter

17 - Slavegirl

The morning after Obtrillion’s dramatic reentrance under the guise of mortal injury, Fidora woke and began the morning routine she had missed so dearly for the last four years. Taking the uttermost care not to wake her sleeping lord, she crept out of the bed, into the adjoining bathroom, relived herself, and then bathed in the warm scented waters, making sure she’d be clean for Obtrillion in case he wanted her when he woke up.

When Twilight brought Obtrillion in yesterday, there had been a moment, just one, when she’d thought the universe had made some terrible mistake, and Obtrillion really was dying. But then he sat up, and then it was just like old times again. The thrill of a scam once again resounded through the air, bringing with it even greater ecstasies as nothing put Obtrillion in the mood more powerfully than a good artifice.

Paddling through the water, Fidora stretched each ligament and muscle in turn, doing the same with her mind as she mentally rehearsed the day ahead; reviewing every detail of the story Obtrillion had invented for his mother yesterday. (Fidora especially liked the part about Ragarrock blasting off her leg and making Obtrillion sew it back on without sedatives. It was romantic.)

Her cover story firmly in place, Fidora planned breakfast. She hadn’t gotten a chance to ask Twilight what foods she preferred in the morning, so she would have to assume her tastes were at least tolerably similar to her son’s. Obtrillion’s tastes she knew exactly. While in her father’s house, Fidora had made it a point to mental rehearsing at least once a week, every one of the 1,426 notes she’d taken on Obtrillion’s favored inclinations, which she’d divided into forty-six categories. The list took three hours and twenty-one to recite, but it had been worth it; she hadn’t forgotten a single detail. Fidora remembered how Obtrillion liked his food, she remembered how he liked his tea; she remembered how he liked his… everything.

They’d been four years apart, and been reunited for only four days. For Fidora the wait had seemed endless, ever doubting that one day Obtrillion would escape yet dreading that by the time he did, time would have changed her, either mentally or physically into something he no longer found attractive. They were together again, and Fidora hoped more than anything that things could go back to the way they were, but she knew they couldn’t.

Politically they were fugitives, on the run from Ragorrock’s forces; but that didn’t worry her. Fidora trusted Obtrillion to keep them both safe and although this changed the type of work they’d be doing, it did not stand to impede on their relationship. There was something else however that might.

Getting out of the spa, Fidora arranged her mane and dried herself, but only partially; leaving herself slightly slick and moist, (Obtrillion liked it like that). Letting tiny droplets fall freely with every step she opened the door, delighted to see Obtrillion’s eyes open, and a smile spread across his lips as she entered; “Good morning beautiful.”

Fidora felt her heart beat a bit faster as she won his approval yet again; and glided across the room to her lover and her lord, placing her front hooves on the bed she nuzzled him excitedly in the chest; “Should I cook breakfast, or shall I do something else first?”

Obtrillion stroked her cutie-mark, sending shivers down her spine, gazed at her in a way that made the world standstill, but didn’t move over to accommodate her; “Cook breakfast for my mother, then come back to bed.”

Fidora cocked an ear; disappointed, but intrigued that Obtrillion still paid Twilight the respect of a parent, “Can we trust her?”

“No.” sighed Obtrillion, “One day… I hope; but she’s been brought up to mistrust people like us, and still clings to her Equestrian conditioning.”

“Even after she knows Celestia betrayed her?”

Obtrillion looking down; “Even I can’t always tell when someone is lying. When she said Celestia had lied to her all these years, there was doubt; and when she said she didn’t remember having me, there was also doubt. I’m don’t know whether or not she was forced to give me up, because I’m not even sure if she knows herself.”

“… Is she really your mother?”

“Yes. That much I’m sure of.”

“Then you were hers to protect, and she failed to protect you; she doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”

“No.” agreed Obtrillion, “She doesn’t… but she might still have it. In either case, she’s useful.”

“That’s why you changed our story,” gleaned Fidora, “The more she believes you’ve suffered, the more she’s going to feel that she owes you, and try to find ways of paying you back.”

Obtrillion kissed her on the left cheek, “One out of three.”

“She’ll be more likely to excuse anything you do that fits her preconceived notions of ‘evil’ as results of a tortured childhood rather than an actual failing on your part.” Obtrillion kissed her on the right cheek and Fidora closed her eyes, “The worse she believes your life has been, the more she's going to reject her previous family for consigning you to it.” Obtrillion kissed her on the lips, and Fidora reciprocated, eagerly hoping that he might change his mind, but the way he parted told her his decision was final, meaning she needed further instruction, “Are there new lies you want me to plant?”

“You will do no such thing.” Commanded Obtrillion firmly, “I am the only one allowed to lie to my mother; just be careful in the truths you do say.”

Fidora grinned broadly, bowing and trotting towards the kitchen, “Have you ever known me to speak otherwise?”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Twilight lay in a guestroom; wondering if she should get out of bed, unsure if she had gotten any sleep, and certain that nothing would ever be the same for her again. She thought she might have fallen asleep once, because she remembered waking up, thinking she’d had the most incredible dream, but then remembered; it was real. Twenty years ago she had fallen in love, gotten married, had a son and then had it all torn away from her by her family so they could force her to save Equestria.

She hadn’t realized until the moment that she saw Obtrillion’s face; how badly she’d always wanted children, but even as she found him a wall built itself between them. How could they be together now? After everything she had let him suffer alone, after how bad she had failed him, how could she ever expect him to accept her as a mother?

Twilight thought about her childhood and how her parents were almost never there; how she and Shining Armor would pester their parents, hoping desperately for just a few hours of their attention, and were almost always disappointed. Celestia was the first true mother figure she had in her life; and when in Celestia’s care, Twilight had promised herself that when she had kids she would be a real mother to them, like Celestia had been to her. Those childhood resolutions now seemed distant, Celestia had betrayed her, used her, lied to her, and because of that, she hadn't been a distant mother to her only child, she hadn’t been there period.

Obtrillion had grown up without any sort of love or guidance, and as a result he was confused; he was a con-artist, a killer and a slave owner - but that was only because those were the only things he had been given the chance to be. Twilight wished she could have been there to teach him better, but by now she wasn’t sure that she had the right to teach him at all; to show him that there was a better way, a way where ponies were equal, the way Celestia had taught her, a way that now seemed a shiny cesspool of hypocrisy… one that she couldn’t go back to. Twilight had killed Mute Wind; technically to help a prisoner of the crown escape. By Equestrian law… she was now a murderer.

There was a gentle rapping at the door and Twilight bolted out of bed; throwing the door wide, dreading and longing that it might be Obtrillion; hoping to talk with him forever, and not knowing a single word she would say. Instead she was... pleasantly relived to see Fidora, bowing low, balancing a tray with several bowls on her back, “I made breakfast.”

Twilight let Fidora in, and levitated the tray to her bedside table, barely glancing at what smelled like wondrous array of dishes. Fidora looked at her for a moment and then turned to leave, but Twilight put out her hoof, “Please stay.” Twilight sat down on the bed and indicated the space beside her, to which Fidora complied.

Twilight tried desperately to put the myriad of thoughts running through her head into words but nothing came; and so Fidora broke the silence. “I’d like to apologies for the way I acted earlier… and not just because Obtrillion told me to. I know how some slaves can be treated, especially those of impoverished families, but that doesn’t mean that every slave is abused.

I love Obtrillion. He loves me. In all my years with him; Obtrillion has never beaten me, never denied me food or water, never rented me out to other stallions; I'm happier with him than I ever was at my father's house.”

“Doing those things to you should have never been his right to begin with.”

“But he does. I was won to him a rightless slave in a gambling bet, one of the lowest possible ways to be given to a stallion and one of the most often abused, just one step above spoils of war. Despite this, he treats me like an honored wife - not because he has to, but because he loves me.

At the height of his power, Obtrillion had hundreds of slaves, including scores of attractive young mares, many of whom were more beautiful than myself. He could have had his way with any of them, and if they hadn’t been enough for him, he could have gone to the markets and had his pick from hundreds more; despite this, he only ever chose me."

“Just because it’s not as bad as it could be, doesn’t make it OK for one pony to own another like property. Slavery is wrong.”

“Why?”

“People should be allowed to choose their own destinies.”

Fidora smiled, “One of the most important things Obtrillion had taught me is how often our perceptions of good or bad are merely determined by descriptions. If I said that Obtrillion was bossy and judgmental, and had ruled his house through bribery and blackmail; you’d think that I was condemning him. If I said that he spoke with authority, cared greatly about justice, and had maintained his house through rewarding diligence and punishing misconduct; you’d see me as praising him. In reality, both descriptions have exactly the same meanings. Tell me; if unpaid, forced labor is evil, and Equestrian law is good; what’s community service?”

“That’s different, that only applies if somepony has committed a crime.”

“Do you think that anyone can just grab any stranger off the street and make them a slave? Slavery here only happens in very specific situations, usually as punishment for a crime.”

“Then why not have it regulated by the government to ensure fair treatment of the slaves?”

Fidora snorted in derision; “Things are never most efficient when controlled by a government, if the foreponies have no stake in the profits what motive do they have to make sure things are done right? Besides, nine times out of ten the offence of the perpetrator was not against the government but against an individual.

Suppose a colt gets drunk, vandalizes someone else’s property, and can’t afford to compensate them for damages. By our law the drunk would have to work for the ponies whose property they destroyed for a set time until the debt was paid. Now let’s suppose the person whose property was damaged, doesn’t feel safe sharing a house with a colt who’s prone to drunken violence; so they sell his service to someone else who can control them. The buyer gets the service they require, the seller gets compensation for their lost property, the offender serves the consequence of their actions and for a while doesn’t have a discretionary income, forcing him to detox from alcohol. Justice.”

“What about children who get sold by their parents and haven’t done anything wrong?”

“What child does not obey their own parents? Their status does not change; they merely change guardians.”

“What if the child never sees their parents again?”

“Maybe they’re better off that way.”

“What?”

“Let’s say a stallion becomes an alcoholic; when he runs out of money, he may sell his children to feed his addiction.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Is it? It means the children are removed from his influence, before they learn his bad habits. What’s more, they are now part of a family that does know how to manage money, proven by the fact that they were wealthy enough to purchase them to begin with. We don’t need bloated government organizations that lumber around, looking for children being raised by abusive, alcoholic parents to take them and put them in foster care; here it happens automatically, without a hint of bureaucracy. We don’t have generation after generation of alcoholic deadbeats; a stallion that turns alcoholic will lose his children before they learn his ways.”

“What about families that are just poor?”

“If a stallion is poor, it’s probably because he doesn’t know how to do his job well, or he is lazy, or he doesn’t know how to manage money. In any case, he won’t be able to teach his children how to be successful. Foals learn by observation, if the family they’re in can’t teach them how to build wealth; what’s wrong if they get sold to a family that will?

If a stallion wants to sell one of his children, it either means he can’t afford them, or he doesn’t love them; in either case, they shouldn’t be there. If someone wants to buy a foal you know at least two things about them; they know how to build wealth through long term investments, and they perceive the child being sold as more valuable than the child’s family or any other of the hundreds of prospective buyers.”

“…Is that really how it works out?”

“I can tell you from experience that it does. Some of my best memories from living in Obtrillion’s house, besides Obtrillion himself, include time spent with two young fillies I owned. They came from a double family living on the edge of Obtrillion’s territory; their fathers made some bad choices in their carpentry enterprise and the family fell into debt. Now they could have sat back and watched themselves, their wives, elderly father and nine children become homeless, but instead they each took one of their daughters, eight year old Gimrit and seven year old Tato, and sold them to Obtrillion who gifted them to me for our first anniversary.

Their family got the money they needed to restore their business back to profitability and I raised those girls like they were my nieces. They had better food then they’d had at home; with proper beds, and education for their first time in their lives, they made friends with the other slave fillies, and when I took them to visit their family a year later, they were in better health than any of their siblings. Are you telling me you believe that what Obtrillion and I did was wrong?”

“Couldn’t Obtrillion have just given their family what they needed without demanding anything in return?”

Fidora snorted; “What would that have accomplished? Gimrit and Tato would have only learned that you don’t have to work hard, or live the consequences of their actions because Obtrillion would always bail them out if they made a mistake; and it wouldn't have been long before every beggar in the city pounding at his door until he was broke and the poor had forgotten how to take care of themselves.”

“OK, so maybe these girls had a better childhood with you then their parents; their fate would have been the same. As soon as they’d hit adolescence you would have sold them off to the highest bidding stallion to do whatever he wanted with them.”

“No.” said Fidora flatly, “When they were ready, I would have chosen colts from Obtrillion’s household who I knew would treat them well and who Gimrit and Tato wanted to marry.”

“Well maybe you would be willing to forgo their bride prices; but do you really expect me to believe that many other slave owners would?”

“Yes.”

“…Why?”

Fidora sighed with a sweet yet heavy smile, “You really don’t understand anything about life here do you? If I had a slave-filly who was ready to marry, I could sell her for maybe a hundred thousand rupees, twice that if she was a virgin, but then that would be it. If I gave her to a colt in Obtrillion’s household, there would be no instant reward, but all of their children would be born belonging to Obtrillion and their children would have served mine.”

“There’s still a lot of slaves that get abused; you said so yourself, and there’s no way you can deny that many of them are abused.”

“Why would someone beat a slave without good reason? Of course examples must be made for disobedience or laziness, but a slave is valuable. If you spend hundreds of thousands of rupees to buy a slave and beat them savagely they will be of little use to you, and you will fall into poverty. Slave owners wish to protect their investments and know that a slave whose basic needs are well met, and know they will be rewarded for good work, will achieve far better work then a sick, exhausted slave who has nothing to live for.

When selling a slave, the current owner chooses who to sell to, and often won’t sell to someone with a reputation for being cruel, especially if the seller is the foal’s own family. There are many potential buyers for slaves and so if a wealthy lord treats his slaves badly, then whenever he required new slaves, (which will be often if his slaves are too weak to work), he will have to offer a higher price and if he only gets three or four years out of them before they die or run away, he won’t get back what he invested in them. The lords of all the great houses know that their treatments of slaves will affect the prices they can get new ones for, and so even if they care nothing for the comfort of their slaves, most will treat them at least tolerably.

A cruel master needs to expend resources guarding his slaves and looking for ones that run away whereas a kind master doesn't. A kind master’s slaves will fight to protect him, whereas a cruel master’s slaves might turn him over to his enemies, and so if a house develops a reputation for abusing slaves, the other houses will know that it’s vulnerable for take-over.

House’s whose abuse of slaves is rampart, fall quickly and then can’t abuse their slaves anymore, while houses that care for their slaves last from generation to generation; and everyone knows this.”

Twilight stopped, pondering, and this time Fidora waited for her to break the peace; “I… guess… it could work, so long as the slave owners weren’t corrupt.”

Fidora snorted, “No system of government is ever going to work if the people in charge are corrupt; not a monarchy, not a democracy, not a republic. The best thing you can hope for is for a system that provides financial incentive to do the right thing, and where it's easy to oust a tyrant if one ever arises.”

Twilight wasn’t convinced; but she didn’t have an answer.

Author's Note

Disclaimer

Discussions... GO!

18 - A Mare's Place

There was a long silence. Fidora looked like she was waiting for Twilight’s permission to leave, but the thought of being alone and parting with an argument seemed unbearable and so Twilight tried to turn the conversation towards something happier; “You said Obtrillion gave you two fillies for your first anniversary; did he give you anything for your second?”

Fidora smiled, reached under her mane and drew out a long knife. She twirled it in the air a few times, before sliding it back under her mane which she then pulled aside to reveal… her chest? Fidora slid her hoof under her fur and pulled, for a moment it looked like she was tearing off her own skin and then she was holding a metal sheath, bound by three leather straps which wrapped around her shoulder, back and stomach.

“The knife was forged by Ferric before he went missing, the perception filter, preventing anyone from noticing it while sheathed, was invented and installed by Obtrillion. For a while he tried adjusting the enchantment so the blade would be invisible even when I held it, but the war came more quickly then we’d anticipated and he ran out of time.” Fidora re-drew the blade and offered it to Twilight who turned it over carefully in her telekinesis.

It was beautiful.

The grip was infused with quartz crystals, forming into a wide cross-guard that curved gracefully around a double-edged blade immaculately carved from what looked like white silver; and yet Twilight’s knowledge of weaponry told her that this knife was far more than just decorative. “Obtrillion bought it at auction for nearly three million rupees. To any other stallion, it would have been worth twenty times what I am; but Obtrillion wanted it to keep me safe.”

Twilight passed the knife back to Fidora who replaced it in its sheath and let it fall back to her chest. A moment later, her front appeared unadorned even though Twilight was looking for the sheath. “If you wanted to change the subject though, there are many other things we could talk about. I’ve told you about myself, but I still know almost nothing about you, save for your mistune with marriages.”

“Marriages?” asked Twilight coolly.

Fidora paused in embarrassment, “Forgive me for asking, but you said you were twenty-four and unwed when your blackout period began. Did your first husband die, or had he dismissed you?”

“I was never married; before or after Zohan.”

Fidora fell silent; first in shock, then confusion which gave way to deep pity tinged with revulsion; “I’m so sorry.” She whispered; “I… didn’t know you you’d been abandoned.”

“Abandoned?”

Fidora looked even more confused, “…Orphaned?”

“Not until I was I was an adult.”

Fidora looked down, struggling to find the right words; “But you… fended for yourself?”

“I was never a prostitute.” Growled Twilight; “Do you really believe that wife and prostitute are the only two jobs we’re capable of!?”

“…No.” said Fidora hesitantly, “I’ve seen mares support themselves through employment before but… are you saying you were never married except for the two years you don’t remember?”

“No.”

“Were you a chatelaine?”

“No.”

“Lover?”

“No.”

“Not even-”

“No.” Twilight had had this conversation with many of her students; she’d never expected to have it with her own daughter-in-law.

“…Wow.” Whispered Fidora quietly, “You… missed out on a lot.”

“I know.” Agreed Twilight, “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t lived. You have no idea of the things I’ve accomplished in my life; the things I’ve seen, the spells I’ve created, the students I’ve taught, the country I helped shape. Family doesn’t have to be everything for us Fidora; mares can do almost all the jobs stallions can, some even better than they do. To see taking care of a family as being the only thing you can do, is to only live half a life.”

Fidora looked at her angrily for a moment before calming herself slightly, “Even if that were true, it wouldn’t make you right.”

“How so?”

Fidora thought for a moment; “How many siblings do you have?”

“One older brother; Shining Armor.”

Fidora nodded and fell silent, apparently waiting for Twilight to list the rest of her siblings; “That’s… it?”

“Yes.” Twilight lied out of reflex.

“Your parents only had two children?”

No; they’d had three. Twilight was a middle child. She’d carried the secret of her younger brother most of her life and hadn’t even told her friends about him because she knew they wouldn’t understand. Over the years the guilt of the lie had gradually lessened until it was almost dormant; but in light of the last few days it suddenly reappeared, hideous and ugly, and yet now more than ever, honesty was not an option.

Fidora would never understand how a family of anything but monsters could surrender their four year old child to a maximum security mental asylum, knowing he would probably never see sunlight again; even if it was for his own safety, for everyone’s safety. “Yes” Nodded Twilight, “Only two.”

Fidora stared for a minute and then nodded; “I am the youngest of the seven children of my father and his only wife; I have four brothers and two sisters. If we suppose that our families are typical of our cultures, your family barely maintains the population and, accounting for young deaths and infertilities, can’t even sustain itself long-term; where-as my family has multiplied.

If you’re right that a mare whose life’s goal is to be an endowed wife and mother only accomplishes half her true potential; the children of one Zaharren family will accomplish five and a half times the potential of one person, versus the fulfilled potential of only two people via the Equestrian model, leaving us with nearly a threefold advantage.

Imagine if your mother had been in proper submission to your father, and you’d had two or three more brothers and sisters. I’m sure you’ve made contributions to society that are worthwhile, but if you’d had two extra brothers, I suspect they would have accomplished everything you have and a bit more; meanwhile you and your sisters would have mothered another generation even greater than your own.”

Twilight scoffed; “I’ve done things hundreds of stallions have tried to do and failed; there have been at least three times when-”

“Had you invented spells that could heal previously incurable diseases when you were eleven?”

“No.”

“Had you arranged for clean water to be provided to hundreds of thousands of people when you were twelve?”

“No.”

“And all your accomplishments, do any one of them match the personal satisfaction of knowing that Obtrillion is alive because of you?”

“…No.”

Fidora smiled, “Perhaps Obtrillion is simply too perfect, that the universe decided there could only be one of him; but imagine, if you can, what it would be like if there were four or five more like him. Wouldn’t that have been a life worth living?” Twilight knew with every fiber of her being that it would have; she didn’t despise the life she’d lived, but if she had the chance to do it all over, maybe – “It’s OK to say it,” smiled Fidora, “It’s only natural to desire children and a lord.”

“There’s where I get off.” Said Twilight firmly; “Yes, a family is something I’ve always wanted. Yes, five Obtrillions would accomplish far more than I ever have. But if I did get married, it would be to a stallion who loved me as his equal; he would be my husband, not ‘my lord’.”

Fidora blinked; “Then it’s easy to see why you’ve never loved. A mare can’t be a wife without being a slave.”

“That’s not true; but if it were I would rather live alone then be anyone’s slave.”

“Is that why you left him?”

“…What?”

“Obtrillion, is that why you abandoned him?”

“No! I’d never have abandoned him if I’d had any choice.”

“And what would you have done if you’d been allowed to keep him and, right after he was born, Obtrillion had cried in the middle of the night to be fed?”

“I’d have fed him.”

“Even if you were exhausted because you’d just fed him an hour ago?”

“Of course.”

“And would you have demanded payment from him?” Twilight’s anger turned to shock as she realized what Fidora was saying… and that she was right; “If a mother is halfway deserving of her title, taking care of a baby is going to be hard work, you don’t get paid, and you don’t really have a choice. How is that not slavery?”

“…It is.” Agreed Twilight carefully, “But no one would actually call it that.”

“I would.” Attested Fidora firmly, “When I bear Obtrillion’s children, I know it won’t always be easy. I know there will be some sleepless nights and messes I’d prefer not to clean up; and yet I believe that those will be some of the happiest years of my life.

I will be a slave to my sons and daughters because to me it is the same as love. Both words come with the simple meaning that another person’s best interests supersede my own; do you think me a fool for wanting this?”

“No.”

“Then what do you believe?” asked Fidora, “Because to me it seems like you hardly even know. You say your greatest regret is never doing something you consider an abomination. You admit that your life’s been miserable, yet insist that your philosophies are right. You say you’ve made contributions to society and yet if every mare had only one child, civilization would cease to exist. Despite this, you take it on yourself to instruct me as to how to be happy, completely ignoring the fact that I already am happy. Please explain this to me.”

“Marriage is good… parenthood is good… but it shouldn’t be forced.”

“So if a mare doesn’t feel like caring for her newborn son, it’s OK for her to abandon him?”

“No; but a mare shouldn’t be forced to become a wife or mother if she doesn’t want to be.”

“And I want Obtrillion.” Insisted Fidora, “Obtrillion did not kidnap me from my father’s house after he escaped the Raggarock’s prison; I ran away with him, knowing that if something went wrong, my father would not ransom me back a second time. If anything happens to Obtrillion that doesn’t kill me first, I will not be able to avoid capture for long; I will either be dead, or wish that I was.

I made this choice because I love him; and Obtrillion loves me for far more than just what’s under my tail; it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate what’s there, but he chose me as his companion and as his friend long before he took me as his inamorata. He saw my mind, read my heart, and knew that I wouldn’t despise him for his unknown origin, and even understood his pain of abandonment.”

Fidora stopped like she said something she hadn’t meant to; but seeing Twilight’s silent anticipation, she hesitantly continued, her voice tinged with both shame and vehemence. “My… grandmother was one of the royal concubines of the sultan; Caleth. Not only did she defile herself by committing adultery with one of the palace guards; but when one of the House Lords hired her lover to assassinate the Sultan, she joined the conspiracy to murder her own husband. They were discovered before the attempt; the guard was killed but my grandmother escaped and fled the country, abandoning my mother who was less than a year old.”

Fidora swallowed painfully before continuing, “My mother was conceived before that guard migrated to Timbucktoo; she was pure, but still never escaped the fetor of her mother’s treason. Even today as an old mare it haunts her sometimes… and yet it’s only because this happened, and I learned as a young filly how to be sensitive to my mother’s pain, that I’ve been able to comfort Obtrillion in his, and love him as completely as I do.”

“Then love him” offered Twilight, “But that doesn’t mean you have to see yourself as less than he is. He doesn’t bow when he sees you, so you shouldn’t need to bow to him.”

“It’s OK Mrs. Sparkle, I like bowing to your son. I enjoy the view from down there.”

“You like looking up at him to enforce the idea that you’re inferior?”

Fidora gave a wry smile and leaned over, “I’m not always looking at his face. Obtrillion can tell what I’m feeling from two rooms away with his telepathy, but I resort to a much simpler method to check how he’s feeling, and then I know whether I should act discuss the affairs of the house, or whether I should act more salacious.”

Had the room suddenly gotten hotter? If it had, Fidora didn’t seem to notice, she just kept on looking at Twilight with those utterly shameless, completely casual eyes; burning holes into the sides of Twilight’s cheeks; “…You’re… joking.”

“Why should I be joking? Aren’t you pleased that your son’s needs are being cared for?”

“I’m concerned that you don’t have any ambition apart from him and that you’re comfortable having every aspect of your life entirely at his mercy."

"Obtrillion is merciful."

"He could kill you if he wanted; are you saying you're OK with that?"

"If I ever failed him so badly that he rejected me and offered no hope of redemption, I would take my own life."

Twilight shifted uneasily; she’d had hundreds of debates with students, over dozens of subjects; but Fidora’s blissful self-abasement was something new. "So you're saying that in your entire relationship with Obtrillion, there‘s not one thing you would change?"

Fidora paused thoughtfully before answering; "There is one thing that haunts me, but I wouldn't change it, even if I could. If Obtrillion chose; he could come home one day with another mare, call her my sister-wife, and I would need to accept it… or he could even come home with two mares… or three or… however many he wanted.

It scares me sometimes, but it is also one of my greatest joys. Every day that he come back alone, looking for me, and only me, proves his affection for me. I wonder how many mares in your country suspect their husbands of loving other mares, and have it eat them from the inside out. I will never know that torment; I know that Obtrillion loves me, and that's all I want."

That was… a start. Twilight wasn’t nearly as sure of her own beliefs as she had been an hour ago; but seeing Fidora see herself as deserving love gave Twilight hope that she could meet her somewhere in the middle… someday. In the meantime, Twilight had more than enough to think about, and the small win she had now might not be repeated for some time.

A glance over her shoulder showed the food Fidora had brought her was growing cold; and a note fluttered out of her vault on Zaharren culture, reminding her of the social graces of accepting hospitality, like eating food that was offered to you. “I want you to know” she said slowly, “I am truly grateful to you for everything you’ve done for Obtrillion. If calling yourself his slave really means that much to you, I won’t stand between you and him. But between us; I don’t want a slave, I want a daughter.”

Fidora smiled; “I could remind you that where I’m from, daughters obey to the word of their mothers; but I understand your meaning of it. I will not regard your will as law.”

“Thank you.” Twilight smiled.

“Does this mean I can go without your permission?”

Twilight nodded Fidora looked like she was about to bow, then stopped herself, drawing a smile to Twilight. Fidora stood up took one step, then stopped and turned like she’d remembered something. "One last thing" she said firmly; both pleading and threatening at once, "Don't hurt him. I grew up in a large family knowing I was loved, but I am the first friend that your son ever had, and I am the only one he has left.

I am willing to share him with you; but if this is a trick, if you've just been waiting for him to grow up so he can be of use to you, walk away. Because if he lets himself love you and then it turns out you were just trying to get something out of him, if you force me to see the grief on his face when he realizes you were just using him I will...” Fidora stopped and swallowed, “…Never forgive you."

Twilight smiled, reaching a few inches, across cultures and Obtrillion’s lifetime, and drew Fidora into a hug, “I’m here for Obtrillion, just like you are. I swear; I won’t let him down, if you’ll give me the chance.”

Fidora hugged her back, nuzzling her softly; “I’ll hold you to it.”

Chapter Nineteen >>> Shining Armor

Author's Note

Forsaken

Twilight takes the train to Alkzum Mental Asylum to visit her younger brother.

Secrets; every family has them.

(This satellite takes place mere weeks before Luna's second rebellion. You don't need to read this one yet, but Enigma will eventually appear in LOTH, and if you haven't read his story, you will be lost.)

19 - Shining Armor

Twilight stayed in her room long after breakfast. Her bed was warm and soft, and it didn’t judge her for failing Obtrillion. It was kinder than its inhabitant. A few hours after Fidora brought breakfast, she heard hoofsteps come hesitantly to the door; softer than Fidora's, Obtrillion's. He stood there for nearly a minute, and Twilight braced herself for the inevitable knock that never came. There was a low sigh on the other side of the door, and he walked away.

It gave Twilight hope.

It meant he wanted a relationship with her, but didn’t know where to start or how to proceed; he was as lost as she was. Before they could move forwards, they needed to look backwards to what had happened, really happened, during Twilight’s blackout. What Zomar had said couldn’t have been true, and yet Shining Armor had confessed that she had hated him before her memory was erased.

Excuses tried to argue inside her mind. What if, there’d been a danger to Equestria, and Shining Armor had murdered another mare's husband and stolen another mare's child to save everyone? Would Twilight still have objected; or would she just be grateful that she, and everyone she loved, was alive?

That line of reasoning brought another, more disturbing thought; what if he had done this before? What if murder, foalnap and erased memories were just standard operating procedure so far as Shining Armor was concerned? If he had been able to do this to her, his own sister, what might he do to a stranger if he thought it was in the best interests of Equestria?

What about Celestia?

Twilight’s blackout had begun just months after Luna’s second rebellion; and ever since then, Celestia hadn’t been the same alicorn who’d mentored her; she’d been distant, reclusive, depressed. Most days it was anyone’s guess whether or not she would even show up for court, or whether she would just disappear for days at a time. Even the sun, which had kept unfailing rhythm for a thousand years now sometimes varied in when it rose or set. Twilight had always assumed that this was seeing a thousand years of hopes dashed that had made Celestia this way, but what if it was guilt for something she’d done to her?

No! It couldn’t have been like that; even if Shining Armor had killed Zohan and his family, why put Obtrillion in an orphanage in Timbucktoo? Why not keep him hidden in a loving foster home in Equestria until she’d finished the project and then give him back to her. There had to be another reason; had to because… Twilight needed to take her children home. Obtrillion and Fidora were wanted fugitives in the Zaharren; if she could get them to Equestria, she could protect them, take care of them; be a family.

What about Mute Wind? Twilight had killed one of her brother’s officers, and closest friends. Would Shining Armor punish her, even though it was to save Obtrillion; or would he cover it up so she could come back to Equestria, and secretly live with the guilt of murder for the rest of her life, just like he’d been doing for the last nineteen years? Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t; either way, first he would tell her the truth.

One hour after midday; Twilight’s cocient started ringing.

Shining Armor was alone.

When Twilight came barging into the main lounge, Obtrillion was already on his way to meet her, having sensed her excitement. Fidora asked to go with them, but Obtrillion told her that this was something he and his mother needed to do alone. They left the hideout by a different doorway then before; emerging out of a closed bathhouse and into the crowded streets of Timbucktoo.

Shining Armor was in a poor district which Obtrillion told her was more or less deserted, run-down buildings; uninhabited except for street dwellers. When they passed several thin zebras who Obtrillion overheard thinking about news of free meals being given out a few streets from where Shining Armor was, neither of them thought that it was a coincidence.

Twilight marched purposefully through the few back alleys that separated her from truth, as Obtrillion gradually slowed and then stopped one turn away from the house where Shining Armor was. “I’m not sure I can do this.” He whispered, “That’s the stallion that killed my father, took my family and left me to Ragarrock.”

Twilight put a hoof around him, and discovered he was trembling, just barely holding himself together, “I don’t believe what Zomar told us; Shining Armor is my brother, he practically raised me.”

“Zomar was your brother to, you just never knew it!” Obtrillion looked up at a nearby rooftop surrounded by a low wall that overlooked the house, and its caved-in roof, “I’m going to hide up there and listen while you talk to Shining Armor.”

“Why?”

“When Shining Armor erased your memory, he had to have known I existed; but he never tried to save me. He doesn’t want me in your life, if he knows you found me, he might try to kill me and erase your memory again. You say he has an MQ of over eighteen hundred, yours is six-thirty-six mine is nine hundred and five. I’ll be able to watch and listen from behind the roof, if you just tell him that you remember having a baby, and then if he tries to capture you again, I can attack him from behind and together we have a chance to take him down.”

Twilight froze; the idea of fighting Shining Armor had never even occurred to her. She’d just thought about what she would say and… was Obtrillion really thinking that they might have to kill Shining Armor? “My brother’s not like that.”

“He’s in the government; they’re all the same. No one ever gains true authority or wealth for very long without being corrupt.”

In one moment of perfect clarity, the world came into focus and Twilight saw how incredibly selfish she’d been. She needed to learn what had happened to Zohan, but it wasn’t for her own sake, she needed to prove to her son that the world wasn’t all evil, that some ponies really did care about others and the ideals they claimed to have. “Go up on the roof if it makes you feel better. I’ll call you down when it’s time for you to meet your uncle.” Obtrillion nodded, and vanished.

It was time.

Twilight steadied herself, cast a shield over the entrance to the alley to prevent anyone from interrupting and then knocked on the dilapidated door. Shining Armor’s steps quickly answered and Twilight rehearsed for the thousandth time what she was going to say until he opened the door. His shock, horror and even anger at seeing her there were impossible to disguise, and brought all the anger Twilight had felt this last day, week, and seventeen years, to one desperate question; “Did you kill Zohan?!”

Shining Armor stepped back as if she’d hit him with a mace then advanced foreword again, his face set in stone. “… What do you know?”

“Did you kill Zohan?!”

“Twily I can explai-”

“DID, YOU, KILL, ZOHAN?!”

Shining Armor steeled himself, he swallowed and then looking her straight in the eye he said simply, “Yes. I did.”

The universe exploded.

The universe Twilight had lived in, that she had built around her from when she was a filly was gone. The world of comforting lies that her friends would always protect her, that her older brother loved her and would do anything for her, shattered in an instant. She had heard the confession from his own mouth; her ‘Big Brother Best Friend Forever’ had murdered the only stallion she ever loved stole her baby and then locked her emotions of grief and the desire to raise her foal in stasis in her subconscious, giving her a life of misery ever since. “That’s it then.”

‘Twily wai-”

“Don’t call me that! Don’t ever talk to me again like I’m your little sister; you call me Twilight Sparkle!”

“...Twilight-”

“No” she sobbed, turning her face away, “I don’t want to hear it.” Twilight paused, taking a deep breath. "I understand how important the Manehatten project was. If you had done what you did, but the day I finished it had told me the truth, I might have forgiven you... someday; but this? Lying to me for years, knowing how I felt, just for your own peace of mind; nothing you do could ever do could make up for this; ever. Nothing could make up for what Obtrillion has gone through because he didn’t have parents.”

“Obtrillion?”

Twilight spun back to him, her eyes flaring. “Obtrillion! My son! My son who you stole from me! My son Obtrillion!

Shining Armor’s jawline flexed, his ears flattening and eyes narrowing, “…Where is he?”

“It doesn’t matter… I’m leaving. I’m taking my son and we’re leaving together. Please don’t ever try and find me.”

“Wait.”

“No; please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Shining Armor stared at her for several long moments, disbelief settling into resignation, though without the grief, that she had expected; he must have never cared for her at all. “…Alright” he agreed finally, “Goodbye Twilight… take care.” Twilight turned quickly, feeling a burning need to get out of there before she changed her mind; Shining Armor changed it for her as he added, “But if I ever find your son, I swear I’ll kill him.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Both unicorn siblings stared at each other in shock at what Shining Armor had said; Twily that Shining Armor could possibly be thinking that, and Shining Armor that he had actually said it. He had just been thinking and the words somehow slipped out, and by the time he realized he had said them it was too late.

Twily’s mouth gaped open and then hardened into a snarl as her dismayed confusion shifted into ruthless fury; she couldn- a ray of pure energy shot from Twily’s horn, aimed at his chest. Trained reflex saved him; throwing him to the side and projecting a shield as the wall behind him shattered into rubble.

She was trying to kill him.

Through the magenta lens of his shield; Shining Armor saw for a moment a face he hadn’t seen in eighteen years, and hoped ever since then that he would never see again. That face was swallowed by the calculated, protective, sorrow of a mother who needed to remove a threat to her son’s life.

The information he’d come here for was lost; the meeting had rested on secrecy and that would soon be literally blown sky-high, but this thought barely registered in his mind. Twily would never act like this unless she was being controlled; that meant he’d been tricked, Obtrillion was alive.

He needed to capture Twily, unharmed; but to do that while she was throwing bolts at him would be extremely difficult. His magical and physical stamina far outweighed hers however; he could wear her down – a bolt of dark energy struck his shield from behind. It held for a moment and then shattered; after Shining Armor had teleported to a nearby rooftop, behind where the second blast came from.

There was a dark shape a few paces away from him; a mare, Twily. Shining Armor shot it, having enough experience in the Everfree Forest to know an illusion one. This was different though; now Twily really was here, trying to kill him. Obtrillion avoided his blasts with the alacrity of a snake.

The illusion vanished, and Shining Armor saw Obtrillion; somehow not looking a day older than when Shining Armor had last seen him four years ago. How this could be, soon wouldn’t matter.

Obtrillion lowered his horn, “For Father!” and reciprocated one beam which Shining Armor broke on his shield; unfortunately, when the blast splintered into all directions, some of them went down, slicing through the supports of the roof Shining Armor was standing on.

As Twily’s laser battered into his shield from the other left, Shining Armor let it go and rolled quickly to the middle of the rooftop. Obtrillion disappeared; his warp-scar showing a downward trajectory; Shining Armor teleported to the alley, opposite from Twily, as the rooftop he’d been standing on, exploded from beneath.

Casting a light shield to protect him from falling debris; Shining Armor grabbed all four walls of the building slamming together; wrapping around Obtrillion’s energy shield, pinpointing his location, blocking his teleports and trapping him under an encompassing wave of rock. Obtrillion tried strengthening his shield to push out, but Shining Armor pushed back.

He would end this.

A cry of grief came from his right, followed up by a series of scattered magic missiles, accompanied by large rocks that came in his direction. He diverted some of his energy to blocking Twily’s attacks, and Obtrillion’s shield gained an inch of space. He would lose both slowly if he kept up like this, instead he chose to lose one quickly; and released his hold over the rocks around Obtrillion.

Met with unexpected loss of resistance; Obtrillion’s shield expanded rapidly, sending large chunks of rubble flying out in every direction; trailing dust which filled the air and clouded vision. Shining Armor let the wave of rock pass over his shield as a small cry of pain escaped Twily; and then grabbed several boulders from the opposite side of the expanding dome and brought them back along their trajectory towards Obtrillion who was still reeling from his shield expanding too quickly and, blinded by the dust, didn’t see one of them until it was too late. He struck broadside, knocked off his hooves and winded. Shining Armor charged one final ray of energy, aimed to kill.

It took only a moment to charge his blast, as he did he released a wave of air to clear the dust and his vision, and when it did; Twily was standing between them, facing sadly and silently with a faint cut and the weight of despair on her face. She was protecting both herself and Obtrillion with a flimsy force field, but it wasn’t enough.

If he shot now, he would kill one of the people he loved most, and the one he hated most in the entire world, cutting through them like tissue paper. He tried canceling his spell but it was too late; the energy had already built to critical levels and his attempt to reabsorb it proved disastrous. Pain roared through his skull, cracked his horn, and his world was lost in an outburst of blinding, crippling light.

Author's Note

Celestia's Smartypants.

Not many ponies knew it, but Celestia had made every Smartypants doll in Equestria for almost a thousand years...

20 - Kill Him

Dust and rubble were falling through the air; mingling with the destruction of Twilight’s former life. It had all been true; her life was a lie, her family had betrayed her; she had heard it from Shining Armor’s own mouth that he had murdered Zohan and now he had admitted to wanting to kill Obtillion. It didn’t matter why. It only mattered that Obtrillion had been right all along and that she had been used and betrayed by those she’d loved.

The building in front of her glowed brightly with Shining Armor’s telekinesis and then imploded; wrapping itself around a red energy shield, trapping Obtrillion inside. Shining Armor charged for a blast that would kill Obtrillion, but she not let him take her son from her.

Not again.

Twilight opened with a barrage of missiles and magic-guided rocks she used to pummel him with from every direction. She knew it wouldn’t be enough to break his shield, but he would need to refocus his energy, giving Obtrillion a chance to escape. The sudden lack of resistance caused Obtrillion’s shield to expand rapidly, flinging a dome of rubble towards the city and towards them.

Twilight raised shields to protect herself, and then watched as Shining Armor’s defenses were swallowed from view; as several tons of rock came crashing onto them as they raced their way to oblivion. When the rubble was gone, the dust remained; choking her lungs and her vision except for the silhouettes Shining Armor charging the frame of Obtrillion, as two jagged boulders came zeroing in on him from behind.

Twilight tried to yell a warning, but through the dust all she could to do was gag. The rocks crashed into Obtrillion’s side, forcing a pained shriek as the air was knocked from his lungs and his hooves failed him. Shining Armor charged his horn to kill her son and Twilight lost all pretense of thought or strategy. She teleported between her brother and son, and raised her shield to its maximum, knowing that it wouldn’t be enough to stop Shining Armor and stood; ready to die like she should have done nineteen years ago.

Shining Armor approached without hesitation; cold, calculated and eager… too eager. When he saw she as there protecting him, he tried increasing the power of his blast mid-way, and poured too much energy into a spell that he’d already made the foundations of. The spell backfired, and split his own horn, knocking his head back as his forward momentum kept the rest of him moving forward, causing him to flip into the air and land painfully on his back… he was alive… but unconscious.

Obtrillion heaved a gasp as the air returned to his lungs and Twilight spun around, pulling him back to his hooves and embracing him. He was safe. That was all that mattered. Obtrillion formed a gust of wind that blew the dust out of the area, and they both turned to the broken, grime covered body of an enemy who had once been Twilight’s brother; “Kill him mom.”

They could walk away; but then he would come looking for them. She could break his horn off entirely, but that still wouldn’t make justice for what he had done. He’d taken innocent life, in return he deserved to die. Twilight took a deep breath; somehow this seemed wrong. Maybe she should have talked to him a bit more before trying to leave; no, he would have just told her more lies. This was the only way.

Obtrillion looked at her confused, “Well?” Twilight had been wrong, Shining Armor wasn’t unconscious. Half of his face was buried in the dirt, but his free eye was open and looking at her; it wasn’t begging for mercy, it wasn’t even apologizing, it was saying goodbye. “Mom?”

Twilight stepped back, hooves shaking; “You do it.” she said, “I forfeit right of vengeance to you; you’ve suffered more.”

“With pleasure.”

Obtrillion looked down at Shining Armor for a moment, vindication playing on his lips, and then launched with a single, clean thrust of magic which fell a split second too late. A layer of golden shield was protecting Shining Armor. Obtrillion gave small yelp of frustration and struck again, much harder which shattered the golden shield, but not the pale blue one that had formed underneath it; and then an arrow buried into the ground next to Obtrillion’s knee.

Three sides of the ruin were swarming with Shining Armor’s Sun Guard, who’d heard the commotion of war and come running. They hesitated a moment, seeing Twilight there, as if they were unsure what to do, but when Obtrillion launched a third failed blast at Shining Armor, he was answered by four lighting blasts and another arrow which were barely blocked by Twilight’s re-formed shield.

Obtrillion struck the ground to re-create dust-cover to hide their warp-scars, and then teleported himself and Twilight away.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Twilight’s sides were splitting by the time Obtrillion let her rest from their headlong flight from the Sun Guards. Twilight knew that tracking teleporting unicorns was an almost impossible task; but she knew the standards that Shining Armor kept for his elite, formed for the eventuality of a third appearance of Nightmare Moon. Fortunately, Obtrillion seemed to be far more experienced at running from elite pursuers then she was, and knew these parts of the city like they were his home.

After launching off into a mad sprint of teleports and galloping, staying mostly under cover, Twilight was ready to collapse and Obtrillion pulled her through the curtain of a small lean-to shelter set against the walls of a marketplace. A startled cry from the sleeping mare inside was cut short, first by a light strike by Obtrillion to the mare’s vocal cords to prevent her from screaming, followed up by Obtrillion passing her a small bag of rupees and motioning for silence. Both were effective.

Obtrillion stood guard at the pulled curtain huts entrance, keeping watch for any sign of the Sun Guards, leaving Twilight time to collapse on the ground panting. Their impromptu hostess stayed huddled in the far corner of the tent, staring at them in curious fear, until she eventually began to relax, and offered Twilight a drink from a clay jug which she gratefully accepted. Twilight now had time to think, which gradually brought her to deeper depths of unrest.

What had just happened?

Just a few minutes ago, she'd been thinking about killing her older brother, the stallion who almost raised her… and murdered her husband, family, and tore her child away from her, and right now, wanted to kill her only child. She was so confused; what had even happened to her? She had just been talking, wanting to calmly state her case and then suddenly she was yelling.

Twilight didn't know what she had wanted from Shining Armor. Had she wanted him to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness he could never earn? Had she wanted him to try and justify that protecting Equestria was worth any cost, or convince her he had somehow done this to protect her from pain? Whatever she had wanted; she had been a fool if she had ever thought she was going to get it. She’d been a fool her entire life, thinking she could trust Shining Armor and all the rest of them; and they’d been playing her for the fool she was, tricking her into developing a weapon system that none of them were smart enough to make.

There was someone outside. Of course the street was crowded, as ponies, zebras and lamas passed by constantly, but Twilight felt like she was being watched; she carefully looked over her shoulder, and saw a filth crusted filly, no more than six or seven, dragging a sack behind her, standing off from the entrance looking in looking confused and scared.

Their hostess looked up from where she was carefully counting the rupees Obtrillion gave her, and tensed; Twilight thought she was about to tell the filly to keep moving but before she did Obtrillion stepped to the far side of the entrance allowing her nearly the full doorway which she took, galloping through the passage to her mother who bundled him behind her and draped a blanket over her.

After that the mood in the hut changed, and the mare redoubled her guard to the strangers, and Twilight felt that it was time to leave. Standing up, she gave a few more rupees to the zebra mare and then thanked her and her daughter, before leaving with Obtrillion; brushing against him as she walked past.

“I understand you’re upset,” said Obtrillion, once they had regained the road and left the tiny abode behind, “You used to love Shining Armor, but you have to let that go now. He’s going to be looking for us; and if we’re going to survive you can’t let your feelings get in the way. If we get another chance to kill him, we have to take it.”

“It wasn't just Shining Armor who told me I had a virus,” Pleaded Twilight, “It was everyone: Celestia, Shining Armor, Cadance, Spike, my friends... if everyone I’ve ever known has been lying to me, I don't know who I can trust.”

Obtrillion took her fore-hooves in his and met her gaze with his clear black eyes, “Trust me.”

And she did.

21 - Choosing Sides

Spike lounged happily in a kings-suite room of the hotel where Shining Armor where had set up base; feeling very much like a king. Coming on the rescue mission had been important, but when they lost sight of the hostages, Spike had worried that his gem supply might not last if the campaign dragged on for more than a few weeks.

Those fears had been revived when they arrived at Timbucktoo: the city was amazing! There were hundreds of sights and smells that Spike had never dreamed of; and with so much trade pouring through, people were so used to strange visitors that even a dragon wandering the streets didn’t attract too much attention.

Quartz crystals were the most valuable gemstone, and Spike’s mine had produced about twenty ounces which he had managed to avoid the temptation of eating so far. After they’d set up base, Spike’s nose found him a major retailor that sold gemstones for cosmetics and asked to trade his quartz in for the cheapest form of gemstone, which happened to be emerald.

The cashier eagerly accepted his business, but when Spike bit into his first bag of emeralds, he knew something was wrong. Half his mouth exploded with the creamy delight of emerald while the other half stagnated in stale glass that had been dyed green and mixed in with the emerald to build up the bulk.

Spike got mad. He got really mad; and the cashier didn’t realize that a really mad dragon wasn’t something he wanted to mess with. He actually pulled out a knife, thinking it would warn Spike to stay away but after Spike ate his knife, the cashier suddenly found himself acting far more friendly, and the two of them negotiated some far more agreeable terms:

Spike would let the cashier keep the quartz, Spike would not tell anyone about this, Spike would not eat him, and in return Spike could take one thousand ounces of unpolluted rubies, plus all the emeralds he could carry.

The crooked cashier seemed OK with this, seeming to think that Spike wouldn’t be able to carry away more than the usual fine for larceny; and was... rather alarmed to learn that dragons could carry three times their own bodyweight. Spike left that store a very happy dragon; buried in sacks of emeralds that covered him like a giant, tasty suit of armor which was about three feet thick and jiggled when he laughed. He was doing this quite a lot; partially because he had food for the next three or four months, but mostly because of the memory of the zebra cashier’s face which he would cherish for centuries.

When Spike got back to his room he set to work right away; there were 2,994 rubies and 135,634 emeralds. He counted out the best one of every ten gemstones into a separate pile to bring to the next migration; and then formed the rest into a very comfortable bed, lay down and slept. That had been about three days ago and he’d hardly moved since then, except to eat.

It was now about two o’clock in the afternoon. Spike had reared up to stretch, looked out the window and realized he’d caught the attention of one adorable little zebra filly who’d been sucking on some sugar corn candy, waiting for her mother to finish talking to another mare. Her eyes grew wide as saucers when she saw him.

Knowing he was probably the first dragon she seen in her life, Spike tried to make a good impression, giving a friendly, clawed wave, and smiling with an array of razor sharp teeth. The filly gave a small squeal and ran to hide between her mum’s legs; trying to warn her about the “dd-dd-dragion!” only to be hushed as he mother continued on her conversation.

Slowly, the filly turned back to him, curiosity winning over fear. She took three tentative steps towards him, peering up at him through the window. Spike peered back. After a moment’s hesitation, the filly began focusing her magic and managed to hold out one of her candy sweets. Spike grinned; he aimed carefully and then shot out his tongue, snatching the treat out of midair from almost ten feet away, sending the filly jumping and then giggling with delight.

A few moments later, the filly’s mother had checked a wrist-sundial; cursed slightly at the time and led Spike’s new friend away, who strained to get one last look at the dragon that cheerfully waved goodbye.

That was enough activity for the day.

Spike settled down for another nap, and had begun dreaming about jasper when the door burst open, shattering the peace of his dreams. Spike groaned, and looked up to see one of Shining Armor’s lieutenants Swift Kick charging into the room, reeking with adrenaline.

“What’s happening?”

Swift Kick told him everything, in short concise sentences; Twilight was in Timbucktoo, her kid was alive, controlling Twilight, and together they had nearly killed Shining Armor. Swift Kick and Spike needed to regroup with the others, but first, Princess Celestia needed to know what was happening; Spike scribbled out a note and sent it. He and Swift Kick took two steps toward the door before it exploded as a bolt of light tore through it, striking Swift Kick on his armored chest and sending him to the floor.

On the other side of the broken door stood two unicorns.

Spike checked to make sure Swift Kick was breathing, and then looked up, “Umm… Twilight... most people just knock.”

“It’s just a stun spell.” Said Twilight, stepping in. “It was necessary.”

Spike eyed the colt still standing in the doorway, his body tensing warily; Twilight stood in front of him smelling cold, holding herself together by willpower alone. “Spike” she said evenly, “Do you love me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then why did you betray me?”

“I-I’m not sure what you mean.”

“This is Obtrillion; he’s my son. You’ve known this entire time I was a mother, you knew what Celestia did to me, you knew how badly I wanted children, and you never told me where he was. Why?”

“It wasn’t my fault. I never had a choice; they forced me to swear never to tell you anything.”

Twilight swallowed, smelling angry; “Someone told me that you were there when Shining Armor massacred Zohan and his family; that you helped; is this true?”

“No. Well yes, I was there, but I never killed anyone in my life. There was nothing I could do.”

She nodded slightly, daring to have faith in him; “Shining Armor wants to kill my son, we need to leave … are you coming with us?”

“What? No, Twilight you got this all messed up. Celestia loves you. Shining Armor loves you. None of this was ever meant to happen; it was all a huge mista-Paruap!”

A scroll fell out of Spikes mouth and before he could grab it, Obtrillion had snatched it from him, he scanned it in a few seconds and then passed it to Twilight. Light was shining in through the doorway, so Spike could read the message backwards, but he didn’t need to. The reflection through Twilight’s eyes was infinitely more clear.

Shining Armor; I prayed this day would never come, but if Twilight and her offspring are together then we must take action. I will send what reinforcements are appropriate and in the meantime I am authorizing you to use any and all measures necessary, save for open war with the Zaharren, to destroy The Nightmare Child and bring Twilight back to Equestria, where we will reform the mindlock.

I’m counting on you.

Twilight froze and read the message for a third time, struggling to comprehend it; meanwhile Spike bolted toward the open window, but a wall of red telekinesis stopped him and he crashed into his hoard. The scroll caught on fire, though Spike wasn’t sure if it was intentional or a result of Twilight gripping it too tightly. Twilight looked at him, lowered her horn, and charged a spell capable of ripping through his chest.

“Are you with me… or against me?”

Dear Princess Celestia

Today I learned a very important lesson about friendship. I learned that no matter how much you do for your friends, family, mentor, and country; no matter how loyal you are and no matter how much you sacrifice; in the end they will murder your husband, steal your child, and erase your memory of ever having had either of them.

They will take your only son and place him in an orphanage on the other side of the world, where he will never know love and be forced to compete in gladiator style fights to the death when he is just nine years old. If by some miracle you are reunited with your son, your friends, family and mentor will simply attempt to kill him, and then erase your memory a second time so that they can continue to exploit you for their own gain.

I hate you and never want to see you again in my life. I hereby resign my professorship in your cursed school for gifted unicorns, where I regret every day I spent naively shaping innocent minds into puppets for your future use. I wish you a short life, and an agonizing death. If you ever try to track down me, or my son, I will kill you myself.

Your former student

Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

Being an aspergic madman, who sometimes can’t help doing needless maths:

Spike had about 20 ounces (1.25) of quartz- worth about 40k rupees and about 2500 pounds/ 1.25 tons of emerald. After the cashier tried to rip him off for about half price, he tried to offer Spike 1000 ounces (62.5 pounds) of ruby worth 20K rubies, and expected him to take close to the original amount of emerald, thinking Spike had more gems and had only come to buy what he could carry.

Seeing as how the minimum price for thievery is paying back double, this would have meant he’d come out even. Instead: Spike (being about a 2800 pound dragon) made off with about three tons of emerald, worth around 100k; plus the 20k of ruby in exchange for his 40k worth of quartz; tripling his initial value.

22 - Number One Assistant

By the time the afternoon rush had died away, Spike, Twilight and Obtrillion were gone, disappearing into the hidden recesses of Obtrillion’s sanctuary. Twilight’s old life was lost; the stench of the lies and the ponies who told them was disappearing from her nostrils, but not everything from that life needed to be done away with.

Spike… had lied to her, but he had never been like Shining Armor. After Twilight woke up from her blackout, Spike had never acted the same: he had helped her finish the Manehatten project because he had to, and after that he’d withdrawn to his cave, probably because he felt guilty for deceiving her. Shining Armor, on the other hoof, had spent decades smiling into her face every day and lying about Zohan and Obtrillion.

It made sense. At his core, Shining Armor had always been a soldier; following orders without question. Celestia had taken advantage of that loyalty, twisting him into her enforcer, and now Twilight realized the depths to which she had decayed his core values. Spike was his own person; and he loved Twilight. He may have tried playing both sides in a vain attempt to keep the peace, but when it came down to the wire, he chose her over Celestia, just like he always had and always would. At the very least, he had earned the right to explain.

She trusted him.

Obtrillion slid a false wall back into place and sealed the steel gate shut behind them, “You can let go of the jamming spell now, Mom; they’ll never track Spike’s signal in here.”

All baby dragons that hatched in Celestia’s school for gifted unicorns had a microchip implanted in their tails which released a beacon when they matured so they could be relocated to the Everfree Forest. Twilight didn’t know why Spike had never matured permanently, except that it was somehow connected to The Migration; but the implant remained, and it still gave off a similar wavelength to the Sun Guard’s cocients.

It had only taken a little reconfiguring of Twilight’s cocient for them to use it to find Spike, and it wouldn’t take the Sun Guard long to do the same, once they realized he was with them. Twilight had cast a jamming signal over his tail so they could get away, but before Spike could safely leave here, something would have to be done to permanently extinguish the signal.

Something else took precedence, however; took precedence by far.

Twilight held her breath as the trio made the short distance to the main lounge, then breathed deeply before turning to her oldest friend in the world, now that Shining Armor was gone, “Spike… tell me what happened to me during my blackout.”

Spike looked at Twilight, and then to Obtrillion who was staring at him with an intensity that exceeded even Twilight’s. “Umm… did you kill Swift Kick?”

“It was just a stun spell.” repeated Twilight.

Spike gulped, glancing at Obtrillion, “Ummm, why is your side grazed?”

“Shining Armor tried to kill us. Now please; what did you do to my mom?”

Spike took a step back, “Is he-”

“Shining Armor’s alive,” hissed Twilight, “Stop stalling, you’ve lied to me for most of your life; tell us what happened!”

The clapping of Fidora’s hooves caught everyone’s attention, as she appeared, wearing a lightly smattered apron, halting when she saw Spike before slowly continuing to Obtrillion’s side. “Is that a… dragon?”

“His name’s Spike,” said Obtrillion, “Celestia gave him to Twilight as a servant when she first began her training. He complied in my family’s massacre, and my mother’s mind wipe but he claims he was forced to. He’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

Fidora looked at Obtrillion quizzically, “Can’t you tell if he’s lying?”

Obtrillion gave Spike one final hard look and then shook his head, “No. I’ve never seen dragons this close before, and Spike’s mind is too different from a pony for me to read, but my mom says he can be trusted; so that’s what we’re going to do.”

Spike sniffed Fidora uneasily, “What do you mean… ‘read my mind’?”

“Obtrillion’s a telepath, the first one to be born in over a thousand years,” said Twilight, “This is Fidora; she’s his concubine.”

Spike’s nostril’s flared; “Concubine? As in ‘she’s his slave-wife?’ And you’re OK with this!?”

“Slavery’s not always evil,” declared Twilight, “in fact, sometimes it can be very good. Now please, what happened in my blackout?”

Spike’s forked tongue flicked out a moment, then he sat down heavily; “Can I… get some time to catch my breath?”

“Please,” implored Obtrillion, “I’ve waited my entire life to hear this. Don’t deprive me any longer.”

Spike looked at Obtrillion long and hard for a few moments, then back to Twilight; “… Last week you loved Shining Armor, trusted Celestia, and hated slavery. Maybe you’re OK with twisting your whole life around in one day; but dragons like going centuries without change. Can I… have a few hours to catch my mind up with what’s just happened?”

“Do as he says,” commanded Twilight.

Spike swallowed, “I-I’m tired; it was complicated and this is something I’ve been trying to forget for seventeen years.”

“Eighteen years,” corrected Obtrillion quickly, “Twilight woke up from her blackout eighteen years ago.”

“Yeah, there, see?” sputtered Spike, “I’m so tired I can’t even count! If I tried to tell you the story on the fly now, I’d probably get it really messed up and have to keep correcting myself. If I could just have a little bit of time to think, and if we could get back to this tomorrow morning I know I would do a much better job at telling the story.”

“…Fine!” Grunted Obtrillion after a long and discouraged moment; pointing to the empty room next to Twilight’s. “You have two hours to put your story together, and then we want the truth.”

Spike looked like he was going to try to barter for more time, but was too tired to even do that. He nodded wearily and then ambled into the second guestroom, closing the door behind him.

Fidora cantered quickly down one of the many side passages, and returned with a tray of ointments which she mixed carefully and began massaging into Obtrillion’s grazed side, as he rested on a couch; his eyes darting uneasily between Twilight, and Spike’s door. “Are you sure he can be trusted?”

Twilight didn’t know. Two days ago she would have sworn to the loyalties of Shining Armor and Celestia, but she couldn’t believe that everyone had willingly betrayed her, “I think so. But in either case he’s seen where we live, so we have to keep him with us at least for the time being; and we’ll need to find a way to remove the implant before he can leave the safe house.”

“That won’t be a problem” assured Obtrillion, “We can use your cocient to pinpoint its location easily enough, and then I’ll cut it out.”

“… Are you sure you can do that without hurting him?”

Fidora smiled, kissing Obtrillion on the cheek, “Your son is one of the best surgeons who has ever lived. Remember, Ragarrock once blasted off my entire right arm; Obtrillion reattached it, and it works every bit as well as it did before. I’ll bet you can’t even find the scar.” To prove herself, Fidora offered her leg up for inspection. Even with magically enhanced vision, Twilight wasn’t sure she could make out the scar; there could be a slight crease between two stripes… but that could also have just been her imagination.

“I confess I’ve never operated on a dragon before,” Obtrillion added, “but I’ve studied detailed diagrams of their anatomy, including the muscular layout of their tails. I could probably take the microchip out, without painkillers, without him feeling a thing, but I’ll give him an anesthetic, just to be on the safe side.”

Twilight nodded, pouring herself a cup of tea from the table, as she tried to calm down. She began reviewing everything she knew about her blackout period, so she could tell immediately if Spike’s story didn’t add up. “Why did Celestia call you ‘The Nightmare Child’?”

Obtrillion grew strangely silent, the edges of his mouth falling, “I’d… rather not talk about it.”

“Please, this is something about your life I need to know.”

Obtrillion sighed, “It’s what they called me at the orphanage; I couldn’t help it.”

“What happened?”

“When I was an infant, my telepathic powers were already manifest, but I couldn’t control them, and I was constantly radiating fear to everyone around me. For the first few nights they tried putting me in the nursery with the other infants, but when they did, all the other babies would instantly begin crying. They eventually made a room for me in the corner of the storage basement, as far away from any of the other children as possible, where I spent my early life in solitary confinement.

Taking care of me became a punishment among the nurses in the orphanage because if the nurse who was with me ever fell asleep, she would always have horrible nightmares, and so they called me The Nightmare Child.

It took me until I was three before I could turn the fear radiance off, but by then it was too late. All the adults expected to feel afraid whenever they came near me, and so it became a psychosomatic effect. If new staff ever joined, they would follow the inherent reactions of their peers, they wouldn’t feel afraid of me, but they would pretend to so they wouldn’t be seen as abnormal; and in time their fear became real.

I spent every day listening to hooves beat on the roof above me; I heard talking, laughter, singing, but I was never allowed to come up. Some of the nurses pretended to like me, but I always knew that they didn’t want to be there. Others could barely stand feeding me, and would loudly wonder if they’d be punished for ‘accidentally’ dropping me on my neck.

None of my nurses ever wanted to talk or play with me, or even touch me. After I taught myself to read, they found that giving me a book or a scroll was the easiest way to keep me quiet, so every morning I was taken to the library, while everyone else was having breakfast, and was allowed to take any books I wanted. I spent my days reading them and practicing magic because they were the only things I was allowed to do.

When I was five, the orphanage got a new headmaster. He came to see me and I was finally able to convince him that I wasn’t a monster. He was willing to try to integrate me with the other children; but they wouldn’t accept me. They knew that I had been held in isolation ‘for their protection’, and they had learned to fear me from the adults. Their fear grew to hatred, and was made worse by the fact that I was the only child there who wasn’t a zebra.

Within a few days, it became obvious that I was working at the level of kids twice my age, making everyone else jealous and hate me even more! I could hear what they were all thinking about me and so… I learned to defend myself before one of them tried to kill me.”

The corners of Twilight’s eyes were moist, but she didn’t cry; Obtrillion was the one who had suffered, and he wasn’t crying. She couldn’t show weakness, “Did anyone ever accept you?”

“Yes,” said Obtrillion grimly, “The ones who thought they could use me. When they saw how good I was at almost everything, some of the older kids were willing to pretend to be my friends if I helped them with their studies; and I did. I pretended to be fooled by them, but every day I read their minds and knew that none of them really liked me.”

Twilight wiped away a tear that was crawling down her cheek. It wasn’t fair; she hadn’t been there to wipe away her son’s tears, and she didn’t deserve better than him, “But how would Celestia have known you were called The Nightmare Child?”

“Because she’s in league with Raggarock.”

“You can’t know that for certain.”

“I didn’t” said Obtrillion slowly, “… until today. During the war, Raggarock had bands of elite mercenaries from all across the world working for him. One band in particular was especially ruthless; no one knew who they were, or where they came from, but there were whispers that they were undercover Equestrian Special Forces.

I was never able to confirm or deny the rumors until today when I saw Shining Armor; I recognized him. He was the leader of the band which slaughtered… so many of my followers. If it hadn’t been for him, I could have won the war, and we wouldn’t be hiding for our lives now.”

“Are… are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“… No.” said Twilight finally, “That doesn’t make sense; if he’d fought in the war he would have known your name, and so would Celestia. There would have been no need for them to have called you an outdated title.”

“Well what else is Celestia going to say? ‘Murder your nephew and drag your little sister back to me so I can gore out her only memories of freedom and happiness?’ It’s words again Mom, everything comes down to the way you say things: ‘Obtrillion’ makes me sound like a person, ‘The Nightmare Child’ makes it sound like I’m not even alive, like I’m some kind of monster.”

“You’re not a monster!” insisted Twilight.

Obtrillion looked at her solemnly, sniffling as a small smile creased the corners of his lips, “You… really mean that don’t you?”

Twilight tried to think of something she could say, but came up empty, words were inadequate. After a moment, she got up, crossed the lounge room and wrapped her arms around her son’s figure. “You’re not a monster.”

Obtrillion tensed; Twilight hoped that he would return her hug but he just lay there rigid and a moment later he teleported out of her hooves. Her disappointment was culled a moment later when she saw he was looking at a mysterious cloud of green smoke that was feeling its way along the roof, looking for a way out.

Obtrillion shot a ray of light at it, hitting it dead center and forcing it to rematerialize into a scrap of parchment that fluttered to the floor. Obtrillion snatched it up, stared at it in frustration and then passed Twilight the note inflicted with Spike’s handwriting:

Shining Armor; Twilight and her kid found me and I pretended to be on their side so they wouldn’t kill me. We’re in a base in the sewers, but it’s empty except for us and a zebra mare who is Obtrillion’s concubine. Obtrillion is a telepath and he’s got Twilight mind controlled.

Go to the pump shed at the corner of the street where we set up base, go down three flights of stairs and take the second left, then the third right, next take the first hall to your left; the entrance to the hideout is behind a fake wall between two big pipes. I scratched a circle outside.

Help!

23 - TARDIS

Clastic Strain stared; uncertain of what he saw or if he should believe what he was seeing. He’d walked around the back of Dinky’s cottage to get here; it was just an empty lot, but the wardrobe opened into the courtyard of a castle. Benefair and Crackle Jack pressed against him to get a better look, but he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, move; “…How-”

“My father’s an alien; this is his spaceship called the Time and Relative Dimension in Space; TARDIS for short. He stole it from a museum on his home world in another dimension and ran away to explore the universe; crashed into a solar storm, ended up here and met my mom. He was curious because she was in her twenties and didn’t have a cutie-mark, invited her to go time traveling with him and then got really curious when they found out that my mother’s special talent was wielding an alien technology that wouldn’t even be invented for another three hundred and twenty years. They also fucked. That's how I got here. Any questions?”

“… You’re father’s an alien?”

“Yes;” Snorted Dinky irritably, “Weren’t you listening to anything I just said, or do I have to repeat myself all over again?”

Crackle Jack coughed like he was choking on the enormous grin taking over his face, “Alternate dimensions? You meant there really are an infinite number of parallel universes, like in Daring Do?”

Dinky deadpanned, one eye twitching; like she was resisting the urge to stab him, “No. There’s only one universe, but when you move vertically through length the desktop of the universe changes. I’d explain it to you, but then your heads would blow up.”

“Really?”

“No.”

That shut Crackle Jack up, but Benefair picked up the pace, “Where’s your father now?”

“Unavailable.”

“If your mother's cutie-mark is bubbles, how does that count as advanced alien technology?” asked Clastic Strain, “We have those already.”

Dinky grew more solemn, her ears flattening to the sides of her head, “They’re not bubbles.”

“What are they then?”

“If I need to tell you, I will.” Dinky looked back and forth among the siblings, “Any more questions?”

“You haven’t answered any of the questions we just asked.”

“That’s because you asked the wrong ones.”

Clastic Strain paused, Dinky was right; only one question really mattered here. “How is this going to help us rescue the prisoners?”

Dinky smirked, “The TARDIS can teleport.”

“How far?”

“Anywhere in all of time and space.”

“…So we can travel through time… to yesterday and warn the town before it’s attacked?”

“Nope.”

“…Why not?”

“In the first place the TARDIS can’t cross her own time stream; in the second place, I don’t know how to drive it.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to drive the TARDIS. If I did, do you really think I would have stayed in this backwater town for the last twenty years?”

“Then how does this help!?”

Dinky laughed, “I’m going to guess!”

“…What?”

“If I activated the time engines, we could end up at any point in eternity. Space travel is different; so long as I use the earth’s magnetic core as a homing beacon, I'm mostly sure that I can keep us on this planet.”

That didn’t sound comforting, “Then how can you hit a group of a few hundred buffalo and ponies?”

Dinky took a breath, “The unicorn in the palanquin didn’t really have an MQ of twelve forty-four; there were two magical signatures coming from it, but only one was a lifeform. I believe there was one unicorn with an MQ of about three hundred, and some kind of magic booster like a ring or an amulet that had about three times that. I didn’t know you could make a booster that powerful with the materials available on this world, but I’m willing to bet it’s unique, and I have its signature recorded in my screwdriver.” Dinky held up some kind of wand that would be useless for putting in screws.

"I can program the TARDIS’ scanners to seek out that booster, and then should be able to get us within a few miles of it. Assuming that the booster, unicorn, buffalo and prisoners are still together, we can use the TARDIS’s weaponry to knock everyone out, free the hostages, do what we want with the buffalo, and I’m keeping the booster. Agreed?”

“… If the TARDIS can do all that… why do you even need us?”

“You need to have traveling companions whenever you go anywhere in the TARDIS” Dinky chirped, “It’s the rules.”

“Since when have you cared about rules!?”

Dinky opened her mouth to release a retort, but then slowed; “…This… could go wrong.”

“How?”

“…If I do the calculations wrong; or if the booster doesn't act as a beacon, we might veer off course and end up anywhere in the world, or, in a worst case scenario we could end up floating in space, with no way of ever getting home. If that happens… I don’t want to be alone.”

“…How likely is that exactly?”

“Clastic Strain” asked Dinky, “If you had a chance to rescue the hostages without me, but knew at going into battle, you had about a one in four chance of dying, would you do it?”

“…Yes.”

Dinky took a step closer, “I won’t force you to come with me, the door is right behind you if you want to leave; the TARDIS will erase your memory of being here; you’ll wander back to what’s left of the town not knowing where you’ve been for the last hour… but I’d like to think that living with me in a space ship that can create anything you want, is a bit more desirable to you than dying.”

Clastic Strain took a deep breath; “I’m in.” He looked over his shoulder to Benefair and Crackle Jack, “You two should probably-”

“Will our presence actually help get Winnow back?” asked Benefair.

“Yes.” There was a strange conviction in Dinky’s voice that Clastic Strain had only heard a few times before, but sounded like true sincerity.

“Then there’s no way you’re leaving us behind.” Asserted Crackle Jack.

“Promise?” asked Dinky hopefully.

“Yea,” confirmed Clastic Strain, “We promise.”

Dinky nodded, her typical spark returning to her, “Thank you; you don’t know what it meant to me knowing that you’ll be with me if things go wrong. I mean now, even if we do get stranded for eternity, at least there would be enough of us for basic mating purposes.”

Clastic Strain raised an eyebrow, Crackle Jack gave an audible ‘huh?’ and Benefair stepped back, raising one hoof while her face turned beat red; “There is no way that I am going to be sleeping with either of my brothers!”

“I never suggested you should sugarcube.” Smiled Dinky, giving her a wink; “Now, onto our next matter of business then, time for bed.” She stepped forwards with a sly grin on her face, rubbing her hooves together as her eyes darting between Clastic Strain, Benefair and Crackle Jack, “How do you three want it?”

The royal siblings exchanged brief, worried glances, and responded in near-unison, “…What?”

“I won’t be able to safely lock onto the magic booster until the buffalo stop moving, which will probably be in about eleven hours when they stop at sunset. I strongly recommend that that time would be best utilized with the four of us in bed.”

“…What?”

Dinky stomped her hoof on the ground, “Do I really have to spell it out for you? It’s been a long, stressful night for all of us, and we could be dead this time tomorrow; we should all go to bed, and get some sleep, so were fresh for the rescue." Dinky flicked her horn for a moment and the clear sky over the courtyard turned to a star crested tapestry of night, "I’ve already removed mine and my mother’s rooms from the areas you can access, as you three have no business being there; but you three need your own rooms to sleep in. I can make any sort of room you want here, so what sort of architecture do you want your rooms to be; Canterlot, Saddle Arabian, Oatlantis, Griffon, Klingon?”

After a long pause, Benefair sheepishly spoke up, “Can I just have a normal room.”

Dinky snorted, “There’s no such thing as ‘normal’! I assume you’re asking for something like a guestroom in Celestia’s palace.” Benefair nodded, “Sure, I can do that.” Dinky closed her eyes as her horn glowed momentarily, and a door morphed out of the stone wall to their right. Benefair looked at it for a moment, then slowly opened the door, gave a nod of approval and went in.

“You? Asked Dinky, turning to Crackle Jack.

Crackle Jack hesitated a moment; glanced up to where the sky had turned from day to night in a moment and then smiled, “Surprise me.”

“OK.” A trap door opened in the moon, directly above Crackle Jack who then proceeded to fall upwards into it, and greeted with a cascade of water when he entered the hole, as though the moon had transformed into an impromptu, reverse gravity water slide. “Second door to your right!” shouted Dinky as Crackle Jack disappeared from view.

Clastic Strain froze for a moment and then instinctively jumped into the air after his brother to try and catch him, and was repulsed by an invisible force field about half way through the air. He fell back to the ground indignantly and Dinky calmly pulled him to his hooves, “He’s OK, but yea; I can pretty much make anything I want happen inside the TARDIS; ever since I learned to tap my magic into the TARDIS’s desktop mainframe. Even daddy could never do that.” She took a step closer, “Now what about you, what do you want?”

“…Is it too late for me to go back to Ponyville and forget this ever happened.”

“Yup!” Grinned Dinky, “You promised you’d come and now as a Canterlot Prince you’re bound by your oath. Now where do you want to sleep?”

“Can-can I just want a room like my one in Canterlot… no weird stuff.”

Dinky nodded and closed her eyes; at first nothing happened, then one of the walls began receding into a very long hallway, finally stopping about a hundred yards away with a door in perfect likeness to his own bedroom door. “Let’s take a walk?” asked Dinky slyly, already walking down the hallway, Clastic Strain had no choice but to follow, and then realized that the ‘floor’ was more of a conveyor belt, like the kind griffons put food animals on and that ended in a meat grinder.

The conveyor belt stopped stopped briefly at a framed picture on the wall, taken in impossible clarity and color of a plateau on top of an, impossibly high, mountain snow-crested mountain. The plateau was surprisingly spacious, and packed with members of at least two dozen species; pony, griffon, dragon, minotaur, and deer being the only ones Clastic Strain could name, gathered around Dinky’s mom in a wedding dress, a brown earth pony in a bow tie and… Nightmare Moon, who appeared to be conducting the ceremony. “It’s my parent’s wedding,” smiled Dinky, “Three years before I was born.”

Clastic Strain strained his eyes; the picture was obviously a selfie taken by a small lavender filly of about eight, face shrouded by her party mask and long blond mane blond mane; “But… Isn’t that you?”

“Yea.”

“Then how-”

“Because time travel is awesome!” Declared Dinky, flicking her horn and causing the conveyer belt to progress to a painting of some kind of floating metal island built above a smooth sea that appeared golden yellow despite the sun being high in the background, “And this is the resort where my parents spent the first three months of their honey moon; it’s built on a moon in the Cotari system, actually made out of honey.” She grinned before adding, “Well, not actual honey. And it’s not actually moon; technically it’s alive and slightly carnivorous, but there are some lovely views.”

Clastic Strain wasn’t sure how to process that, but before he had a chance to he was being dragged further down the hallway to a picture of a purple stallion playing a cello who Dinky identified as Clover the Clever, and then on to a mass formation of armored pegasi, led by a burly stallion in a bronze helmet, who Dinky called Commander Hurricane. “By the way” she added, “That scar that he supposedly got fighting winged hydras, actually happened when he tried to get fresh with my mom.”

It went on like that, picture after picture with no room for thought and they never seemed to get any closer to the end of the hallway until it raced up on them all at once, with one final picture hung outside the doorframe. “And this is me and my family having dinner with my Uncle Discord.”

The picture was… Discord flying through the air, carrying Dinky’s family on his back, their manes billowing in the wind as they charged after a herd of flying… cheeseburgers. Dinky’s father was sitting on the back of Discord’s neck, his right hoof poised to throw a hunting spear through one veggie patty, with his left hoof wrapped protectively around Dinky in front of him who was leaning far to the right as her spear plunged through the center of another burger. Further back, Derpy as standing upright between Discord’s wings, with her mouth open, clutching a butterfly net with both forehooves to catch a swarm of passing hayfries. “But… Discord is evil.”

Dinky stamped her hooves on the ground shattering the picture, and every other in the hallway, like glass; whose shards disappeared before they hit the floor. “Evil? When? What gives you the right to have an opinion about him? What do you actually know about him that you haven’t heard from Twilight or Celestia that you think you could understand his motives?

I knew him when he was young. I saw the civilization his people built that thrived for two and a half thousand years culture, art and science unequalled in this solar system before or since then. I’ve listened to ‘Discord’ sing a solo baritone in an a cappella choir of eight thousand draquoni, who could raise mountains with song. I visited him a thousand years later, and watched him come terrifyingly close to turning the oceans to blood; and I helped stop him.” She prodded him hard in the chest, pushing herself back more than him, “And I’ve walked in ages where alicorns are extinct, and have faded into myth and legend.” She stomped her hoof one more time for good measure, “Are you impressed yet?”

“…Yes.”

“Good, because I intend to have you flabbergasted by the time you leave here.”

“After the last hour… I don’t think there’s much more you could do to mess with my head then you already have.”

“Oh?” Dinky cried indignantly, as if she’d been insulted, “Really?”

Clastic Strain blinked; the next thing he was aware of, his back was pressed flat against the door. Dinky was standing on the tips of her hind hooves, her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips were pressed against his, her tongue rubbing against his clenched teeth and gums until it gained access to his mouth. Clastic Strain blushed, as the blood raced to his face… and somewhere else. His hooves tensed in front of him, unwilling to move, but his wings swayed to their own accord, eagerly exploring her captivating curves. Dinky was now standing on her left leg only, her right twisting around Clastic Strain’s left as her tail flicked up between her legs, wrapping around his-

“OK goodnight.” Dinky detached herself from him, at every point, in one fluid movement and began trotting casually back down the hallway as Clastic Strain came crashing back to the floor.

“D-D-Dinky?”

“Goodnight Clastic Strain.” she called sounding bored, not even bothering to look over her shoulder or slow down as he horn blinked and she disappeared.

Clastic Strain stared down the empty hallway for some time after she had gone. What exactly did ‘flabbergasted’ mean to Dinky?

Prologue - The Day Dash begged

Sweat, mingled with despair, cascaded down Rainbow Dash. This was quite possibly the stupidest thing she had ever done, and not even because she’d just committed several felonies bashing through those doctors at the hospital—they’d deserved it. They said there was nothing they could do for Sky Blaze except make her last days more comfortable, but still insisted on keeping her at the hospital because, 'There was nothing anyone else could do.'

No. There was someone else, Zecora. She had cures for everything, she could heal anything; she was a miracle worker, and Dash needed a miracle to save her daughter. If this had happened ten years ago, Dash and Storm would have taken Sky Blaze directly to Zecora, instead of watching her waste away for weeks. But this wasn’t ten years ago, this was today—after the second Lunar rebellion, after Celestia broke her word, and after Zecora took revenge.

At the time it had all seemed logical; even if Zecora did get hurt. Yes, Luna had become Nightmare Moon again; and yes, Zecora had stopped her; and yes, Celestia had promised that in return she would do everything she could to help with Zecora’s last ditch attempt to rescue her own daughter; but it was simply too dangerous. Helping Zecora would have risked open war with the Zaharren, and so Celestia had tried to pay her off with money instead.

Zecora got even, but no matter what her reasons were, nothing could ever justify what she did. Rainbow Dash never forgave Zecora for what she did to Twilight and never would. Dash hated Zecora. After what happened, Dash and Storm had tried to kill her, but it had been useless. Zecora had thrown them out and told them to never come back. Now Dash was going back; to beg for the life of her daughter. She would do anything Zecora wanted, take any contract, and the consequences be dammed.

Dash could feel Sky Blaze’s feeble grasp on life weakening, and hoped she wasn't already too late. With the Everfree Forest stretching beneath them, Dash spotted the microscopic clearing that marked Zecora’s hut and began her descent; her left wing, was once smashed seemingly beyond repair, beating in unison with the right, thanks to a long past favor from Zecora.

Zecora had been tending her herb garden, but noticed Dash before she was even halfway to the ground. Dash landed as softly as she could, and then dropped to her knees; sliding her gasping daughter into her wings and cradling her to her chest. Dash barely managed the courage to make eye contact with the zebra witch looming over them. Explanations were unnecessary—the dying, rainbow maned-filly in her arms told Zecora what Dash wanted, and every tear streaming down the mother’s cheeks told what she was willing to give. A low sob of pain escaped from Sky Blaze, and one word choked its way through Rainbow Dash’s sealed lips, “…please.”

12 - Waterworks

Fidora draped one arm around Obtrillion and pulled him close, and Obtrillion leaned his head against her shoulder. It should have been Twilight comforting him; it should have been her all along, but it never was, not once. Twilight got up, and took a step to embrace Obtrillion from the other side, but one short glance from Fidora cut her off. Fidora’s hoof was also shaking slightly at the memories of Ragarrock’s ‘teachings,’ which she and Obtrillion had lived through it together. Twilight didn’t have a place in her son’s life. Not yet.

Twilight sat back down; trying not to feel jealous of Fidora, but when she got rid of her jealousy, all she had left was guilt. “You’re not still with Raggarock now, right?”

“No.”

“How did you get away?”

Obtrillion didn’t answer, so Fidora did. “After the tournament, Obtrillion didn’t just win me but several million rupees, a small construction business, and eleven other slaves. Ragarrock allowed Obtrillion full control over his winnings, wanting to see how well Obtrillion could manage wealth and political maneuverings. Obtrillion was a genius in all his subjects, when it came to business; he had wisdom like a god.

He built three million rupees into more than eighty in the first few weeks alone, mostly through gambling. Despite his performance at the tournament, many lords thought the contest had been rigged and wanted to prove Obtrillion wasn’t as great as he seemed. Obtrillion could use his telepathy to make them see rebuking him for his ‘false arrogance’ as the only thing that mattered, while making them dramatically overestimate their chances in whatever wager Obtrillion proposed, and make them avoid thinking about the consequences of losing. Between his genius and his telepathy, Obtrillion almost never lost.

When he was hiring servants and assigning them tasks; Obtrillion could sense their skills and their trustworthiness and so corruption within any of Obtrillion’s businesses was virtually non-existent and with scarcely an exception, no servant was assigned above his abilities. Within a few years; Obtrillion was one of the wealthiest people in Timbucktoo. His businesses flourished and he rapidly acquired; markets, construction companies, morgues, forges, alchemy chains and more. Then, instead of hoarding his money, he devoted most of it to public works that would help everyone in Timbucktoo, gaining him considerable support among the great houses and un-housed masses. The most significant project he undertook was to create where you’re sitting right now.

When Obtrillion became Ragarrock’s apprentice, the cities’ water system was centuries old, and most of the water available in the poorer districts was waste water that had already been polluted by the wealthy. When Obtrillion was twelve, he maneuvered a contract with Ferric’s steward and the assembly of great houses to award his companies to completely re-work Timbucktoo’s waterways; granting clean water to almost everyone in Timbucktoo.”

“You sound almost too good to be true.” Breathed Twilight.

“I was too good;” muttered Obtrillion, “That was the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I became too wealthy, too popular, too powerful; Ragarrock realized that I wouldn’t be his puppet forever, and one day I’d challenge him, so when I was fifteen he tried to get rid of me.”

“You mean he spent six years training you and then tried to kill you?”

“No; he didn’t want to kill me, he wanted to control me. He built a cryo suspension tank inside a vault, where he could put me into a medical coma, pump me full of nutrients then suck all my magic out; using me as an energy source.

I learned about the tank a few days before it was completed. I wanted to just take Fidora and run, but then I thought about all the things I was doing and planned to do for Timbucktoo and how all of it would end if I left, so I gathered a group of my closest followers and attempted a surgical strike to kill Ragarrock.” Obtrillion sighed, “We failed; if I tried to run after that, then everyone who’d helped me would be killed or enslaved along with their families. Things… escalated, and eventually broke into full scale civil war. Tens of thousands died.

The only reason we lasted as long as we did was because of these tunnels. Ever since I was Ragarrock’s apprentice, I’d dreamed about running away, and when I started redesigning the waterworks, I planned several small hideouts. After Ragarrock started hurting Fidora I started adding more and bigger hideouts to the design… it became something of a coping mechanism.

When the war started, I was the only one with really accurate maps of the water ways which connected nearly every house in the city and was scattered with bases like this. We fought a guerrilla war across the city, but in the end I was captured and put into Ragarrock’s cryo dungeon.

I was there for four years; I don’t know what he was using my magic in that time, but I’m sure it was nothing good. Ragarrock woke me up thirty-one times; a few times he came to gloat but most of the time he actually wanted to talk, or sometimes play chess. No matter how irritated he was that the only mind that could challenge his was one tenth of his age, he preferred that then to having no one that could challenge him. I think he might have also wanted to keep me on backup; an emergency plan if there was something he couldn’t fight alone, and thought he could control me for a short time.

Three months ago, a solar flare fried some of the matrix that held my prison together and I managed to escape. I searched through my old hidden bases; most of them had been found and are either being used by Ragarrock, booby trapped or destroyed, but this one was untouched. When I learned that Fidora had been ransomed back from Ragarrock by her father, I went for her, she ran away with me… and that’s been my life.”

Twilight sat in silence; trying to come to terms with everything she had learned. All that suffering, everything Obtrillion had gone through… she’d been a horrible mother, she should have protected him. What Celesita had done to her… was worse than anything Ragarrock had ever done to Obtrillion. “...How did you find me?”

“Back when I was Ragarrock’s apprentice; I tried to find you, or dad or… anyone. Five different families tried to claim me, giving elaborate reasons about why I was left at the orphanage, but I knew they were all liars. I spent hundreds of hours and millions of rupees trying to find where I belonged, but I never found any trace and…” he looked mournfully at Fidora, “I… couldn’t fall behind in my studies.

I still hoped that you might be looking for me, so I decided to help us both. I sent some of my people to vandalize the arches of each city gate and then maneuvered one of my construction companies the contract for repairing them. When the time was right, I mixed about a pint of my blood into the concrete of each arch, and enchanted them so if any direct relative of mine passed through the gates it would let off a beacon.

This morning when you came in to the city, you triggered my spell. I paid one of the guards to let me see the records of people coming into the city and as soon as I saw your picture in the gatehouse’s logs, I knew it was you. By then I had your name, and when I heard that you had asked about hotels, the rest was just a matter of time.”

Twilight nodded, wondering what he had been doing before the beacon rang, “So what have you two been doing for the last few months?”

“We outsmart people for money.”

“…I’m sorry?”

“Fidora and I go to the places where our appearances weren’t as well known and use a variety of methods to take money from people who have more then they need.”

“You’re professional con artists?”

“You didn’t complain when we were in the markets.”

“What are you talking about? We just walked through the markets.”

“I… thought you’d noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

Obtrillion lifted his saddlebag, and tipped it upside down, spilling a small river of rupees, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and several ornamental daggers. “That bag was empty when I went to find you this morning.” Fidora’s eyes lit up at the hoard of stolen booty, Obtrillion followed her eyes to a pearl pendent, trimmed in gold, that was nested on the top, “I knew you’d like that” he said picking it out and fastened it around Fidora’s neck, giving her a kiss on the cheek which she seemed to melt into.

Twilight stared in horror; this wasn’t righ - Obtrillion locked eyes with her, “Reaching out to my former followers would be dangerous for them and us. If we didn’t steal, my options would be starving or else to degrade Fidora to a prostitute. I’ll take stealing.”

A wave of nauseous guilt overcame Twilight, saturating her revulsion to stealing, but that didn’t make it go away. “But… what about the people you took this from?”

“Don’t worry; I didn’t take too much from any one person; most of them probably won’t even notice that their money is gone.”

“How many people did you steal from?”

“Sixty-one.”

“How did you steal from that many people!? I watched you the entire time, I didn’t take my eyes off you once; you didn’t even bump into anyone.”

“Magic.”

“But I watched your horn, it never glowed.”

“My horn doesn’t glow when I use magic. It never did.”

“That’s... not possible.”

In answer, the table between them rose into the air. Twilight looked between it and Obtrillion’s horn closely, looking for any flicker of an aurora of magical energy; both were empty. "Actually..." said Obtrillion hesitantly, "Raggarock found out that my horn does give a glow, but I use an ultraviolet wavelength so no one can see it."

Twilight was about to ask how Raggarock learned that, but then realized she didn't really want to know. Everything about her son's life had been nothing but pain; and Twilight was afraid that if she learned one more way Obtrillion had been abused, that she would simply break down and cry.

“May I ask you a question?” asked Fidora, after several minutes passed in silence.

“Of course.” Nodded Twilight.

“Even though you’ve hardly said anything about yourself, Obtrillion probably knows you better from your reactions than you know us from our story; but I don’t know anything about you except you forfeit your foal and stayed away for almost twenty years and, I'm trying not to hate you for it. Why come looking for him now? What changed?”

Twilight began her story a second time; explaining her blackout, the buffalo raid on Ponyville and how she had come to Timbucktoo to demand the truth from Shining Armor, before being found by Obtrillion.

Fidora nodded her head periodically, asking few questions. When Twilight finished she cocked her head and waited like she expected Twilight’s story to continue. “So?”

“So what?”

“You say you have this ‘cocient’ device that can track your brother’s movements and tell when he’s alone. Is he alone now?”

Twilight pulled her cocient out from her saddlebags and put it on the table where Obtrillion and Fidora could see it. At first, Twilight thought that being underground had stifled her cocient, but the half-dozen signatures that were visible came clearly, suggesting it was working perfectly.

“Where’s Shining Armor?” asked Fidora

“Gone.” Sighed Twilight, “He’s out of range; even if we knew what direction he was in, we wouldn’t know if he was alone.”

“Who’s this?” asked Obtrillion, pointing to the only solitary signature on the screen.

Twilight looked, “That’s… Mute Wind; he’s my brother’s pegasus commander.”

“How long as he been with your brother?”

“Since the beginning” said Twilight, thinking she saw what Obtrillion was thinking, “...Since before my blackout.”

“Do you trust him?”

“…Yes.”

“Well why don’t we go talk to him then?”

Chapter Thirteen >>> Perspective

Author's Note

Twilight's had a hard day, it's about to get a whole lot harder.

14 - When Siblings Collide

After Sky Fire’s magnificently humiliating retreat, the laughter rumbled on for another two miles as Sky Blaze finished describing Sky Fire’s epic fail to seduce Pinkie’s triplets. That is, Spy Path and Star Streak laughed; for a moment Tungsten looked like he was going to go after Sky Fire, then he quietly withdrew into one of his Daring Do novels.

From the way his ears were pulled back, Sky Blaze guessed he was angry at her for humiliating their brother. Hopefully, this would make Tungsten think about all the people who’d been hurt by Sky Fire’s escapades. Besides; by the time he was visibly upset, Sky Blaze was already up to Sky Fire’s first escape attempt, and so she couldn’t stop then, could she?

After the anecdote, Sky Blaze and Spy Path kept talking, casually at first, but then more deeply after they reached Ponyville and were able to talk privately. Spy Path was visibly nervous and excited about a fifth of which was due to her never having been to Youtherd before, and the rest because later that night evening, she was going to see her older brother.

Spy Path didn’t elaborate, and Sky Blaze didn’t push; but a few years ago her parents had gotten divorced. Spy had moved to Manehatten to start a new life with her mom, while her brother stayed in Canterlot with their dad. Her parents still weren’t talking to each other, and Spy Path had made it curtly clear she had no desire of seeing her father. However, she deeply missed her brother, and the two had been keeping in touch by mail since the split.

Neither sibling wanted to appear to be taking the side of the parent they weren’t living with by either visiting Canterlot or Manehatten, so this year, they had both saved their money so they could to come to Youtherd and re-unite on ‘neutral territory’. Spy’s brother however, wasn’t going to be arriving until eight, leaving Spy Path the whole day in a town she didn’t know, so she tagged along with Sky Blaze to Sugarcube Corner.

By sheer luck, the two of them ran into some ponies Spy Path vaguely knew from Canterlot and briefly introduced to Sky Blaze before practically begging her to re-tell Sky Fire’s escapade with the triplets; and Sky Blaze was more than happy to oblige. Needless to say, several of Spy Path’s friends found the story incredulous, with one unicorn colt in particular insisting that what Sky Blaze described was scientifically impossible.

It was at that moment that the doors opened and who should come in but Sky Fire himself, following a filly that looked flattered by his attentions, and might be in danger of doing something she’d regret later unless Sky Blaze intervened. The unicorn proposed an experiment, Sky Blaze agreed, and one of Spy’s friends just happened to have a small custard tart in her lunchbox which she was willing to sacrifice for virtue, comedy and science. The moment the tart splattered on Sky Fire’s muzzle he freaked, shrieked, and jumped so high that his head crashed into the ceiling, before hurtling himself into the fountain outside; proving Sky Blaze’s story once and for all.

After lunch Sky Blaze took Spy Path to meet her netball team, which was meeting by the river for practice. Some of the team wouldn’t be arriving until later that weekend, but Spy made a decent enough fill in that if she’d still lived in Canterlot, Sky Blaze would have seriously considered training her as a backup in case Tempest Dive’s health got any worse. After practice, they’d caught the tail-end of a concert and had dinner in a quiet restaurant, giving Sky Blaze a chance to peruse the newspaper to see if there were any races worth winning.

It had been a fun day, but now it was over.

The sun was meandering toward the eastern horizon, Spy Path had gone to meet her brother, and Sky Blaze was on her way to bed. It was still early, but Sky Blaze enjoyed getting up before dawn; and having a few hours peace to meditate before sparring with Sky Fire and having breakfast.

The windows to Aunt Scootaloo’s house looked warm and inviting, but as she reached for the door, it was opened from the inside by Sky Fire who’d been on his way out; his eyes and mouth narrowing to slits when he saw her, “What, the hay, is wrong with you?”

Sky Blaze stepped back, failing to hide the slight smile that was edging around her lips as she noticed the frizzy edges to his mane, telling the story of about eleven showers, “Come on Fire, it was joke; besides, I didn’t throw that tart, or even think of it.”

“It’s not funny. You know I’m allergic!”

“It’s psychosomatic.”

“Psychosomatic? I had a rash down my neck for three hours!”

“You enjoyed eating custard before trying to seduce the triplets. One bad experience planted a ludicrous idea in your head which became a lie you’ve told yourself so many times that now you actually believe something benign is out to kill you. It’s just like how you’ve convinced yourself that any girl would have to be crazy not to want to sleep with you, and won’t mind if you lie to them to get what you want and then never speak to them again. If she does get upset, it must be her problem because she hasn’t adjusted yet to 'Canterlot Society'.”

Sky fire gave a sharp, angry sigh; “Don’t tell me you’re talking about Summer Tide again.”

“Yes Sky Fire, I am bringing up Summer Tide, and I’m going to keep bringing her up until you give her a real apology. Her family had just come from Oatlantis to Equestria as refugees; she didn’t know anyone here and didn’t know what kind of a colt you were. You pursued her for a week, took her virginity and have hardly spoken a word to her since.”

“You don’t need to tell me what happened Sky Blaze; I was there.”

“You were there when you could use her; I was the one who found her sobbing in the bathroom. She still hasn’t gotten over what happened.”

“You make it sound like I raped her. She invited me up to her room, and with one purpose in mind.”

“You’d said you loved her.”

“I never said that. I said I thought I might be in love; she read more into the statement than I’d intended.”

“Do you even care how much you hurt her?”

“There have been plenty of times when I was with a girl, and thought that she had sub-vocally promised me something she hadn’t. When I found out that we weren’t on the same page I was disappointed, but didn’t act like she’d ruined my whole life. I moved on, and found someone else who would give me what I wanted. If Summer chooses to make herself miserable, every time things don’t go exactly the way she wants, she’s going to spend her whole life sulking.”

“If you’d just liste-”

“Summer and I spent one afternoon together, and both of us came away from it feeling disappointed. I’m willing to write the whole thing off as having been a bad idea, you think that the process should be repeated and somehow that will make everyone happy.”

“Summer doesn’t want you back; she just wants you to feel sorry and I want you to think twice before doing it to someone else.”

“I won’t apologize! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Is that what you’re going to say to the next Summer Tide, after you’ve gotten her pregnant?”

Sky Fire snorted, “If you’re so convinced that ponies should never date anyone they’re not serious about; when are you going to marry Armathirelok?”

Sky Blaze flushed, wings tensing behind her, “What happened between me and Amren was… totally different.”

“Not from his perspective. You started dating him, knowing from the start you didn’t want anything long-term. He asked to get a bit more serious, and you ran off. He tried contacting you, and you ignored him. He wasn’t just looking to bang and run either; didn’t he actually propose… like… several times?”

“That was different!”

“Not really; but if you’ve noticed, I haven’t brought it up since it happened because I know it makes you uncomfortable. I don’t go telling other people about it, I don’t make jokes about it; I don’t throw reminders of it back in your face every single chance I get. You’d think that would earn me some kind of consideration in return; but all I ever get from you now is you trying to punish me for making my own decisions instead of swallowing every morsel of the singularist, self-righteous crap that you try to force down everybody’s throats.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’re right. It’s Zecora’s singularist, self-righteous crap; but if you eat it long enough, eventually you start crapping it.”

“Valuing purity isn’t foolish. What’s wrong is you thinking that you can drag yourself and every filly you can catch through the mud, call Tungsten to jump in after you, and then somehow, everyone is going to walk away unhurt.”

Sky Fire kicked the earth; “I make my choices, Tungsten makes his, you make yours. If you want to wait till you're married before getting knocked up, that’s fine, but stop trying to insist that anyone who doesn’t is scum.” Sky Fire took a few steps like he was going to walk away, then turned back; “When you do finally decide to find your, ‘right one,’ take my advice and go with a pegasus. Getting down and dirty with an earth pony is fun and unicorns can do some pretty neat tricks with their magic, but nothing's sweeter than feeling the earth move while free falling at a hundred and sixty feet per second.”

He thought a moment then added, “If you do try that though; just be sure you can see the ground below where you’re playing. Last semester, I tried falling in pitch blackness with a filly I use to date; we hit concrete and she spent the next three months in hospital with four broken legs. I was alright since I was on top and she cushioned me, but I wouldn’t want to see you getting hurt.”

And he never said anything about this before now! He wrecked a filly’s life and didn’t even pause from carousing to so much as visiting her in the hospital?! “YOU… DID WHAT!”

Sky Fire hid a beaming smirk behind a scowl, “No; and if you understood me a tenth as well as you presume to, you would have known I was being sarcastic; but you just want to believe that everything about me is horrible so you can castigate me; thinking that I need to be changed.”

Sky Blaze choked on relief and belched out anger, “Custard.”

Sky Fire took a step back, his mane bristling; “Sky Blaze that’s not funny.”

“Sweet, sticky, warm, delicious custard.”

Sky Fire grit his teeth, “Night Glider; girl’s bathroom in the movie theater. We missed the ending of Daring Do and the Deep Children, but it was soooo worth it.”

“Custard pie, custard tarts, custard sauce.”

“Carrot Sauce, two bottles of wine to loosen her up and she let me spank her flank all night.”

“A bustard was flustered because his tree was full of mustard, so he sold the clustered structure and bought a keg of custard.”

“Tempest Dive wasn’t really sick those days she missed netball practice! She likes it rough and even better if I tie her down and then role-play on her ass.”

“Custard in your mane, custard on your coat, custard in the rain, custard down your throat!”

“Summer Tide… no, can’t think of anything nice to say about her. She was more like a pile of wet rags.”

With a shriek of frustration, Sky Blaze lunged towards Sky Fire; her sharpened hooves barred toward his infuriating, smug face. He only had a split second to react, but that was enough to take a defensive stance, parry her first hit, and counter with a kick of his own. Sky Blaze caught his blow, and twisted his arm into a wrist-lock to try and spin him into the ground, but his wing-strike at her fetlock broke her hold.

Sky Blaze pulled back, and they squared off for a moment without moving before simultaneously unbuckling their saddlebags and lunging towards each other. Sky Fire swung an overhead strike with his left wing, while bracing to kick her when she ducked. Sky Blaze swung to the right, and shot out her wing to grapple his from beneath. He dropped his to meet hers and they met head-on filling the air with a sharp ‘crack’ which drowned out the noise of their saddlebags hitting the ground.

Sky Blaze was fast, fearless, agile and with lightning fast reflexes; Sky Fire was exactly the same. They had fought each other almost every day since they were three, through summer to winter and back again, they met each other every morning before school for training, cumulating in a sparring match, as they tested, taught and learned from each other, goading each other to be better. They had fought each other nearly every day since they were three; but this was the first time in their lives when they had ever truly fought each other.

Sky Fire leapt into the air to avoid Sky Blaze’s forward lunge, so she angled her dive into the dirt, caught herself with her forehooves and then launched herself vertically into the air, spinning her hind hooves wildly; looking for her brother. Sky Fire avoided her flurry and landed a blow on her gut.

Sky Blaze regained her fortitude then swooped towards Sky Fire who flew above and tried to kick the top of her head. Sky Blaze flew on a course to make herself an ideal target, and when his hoof came down, she swiveled horizontally, and caught one of his fore-hooves with both of hers. Their opposing momentum’s canceled each other out, and they both flipped, Sky Fire spinning upside-down, while Sky Blaze turned right-side up, twisting her brother’s hoof so she could crash him into the earth.

It almost worked.

Sky Fire made a feint with his wings, and then maneuvered an unexpected twist that channeled both of them into the brickwork of Scootaloo’s house, and they fell separately to the ground. Both on their hooves again within seconds, and then charged again though it was clear Sky Fire was favoring one arm. Sky Blaze spun her wing around to smack it from behind the knee, but he saw her coming and lifted both arms, rearing onto his hind legs and letting off with a wide roundhouse kick.

Sky Blaze grinned when she saw her chance, knowing that he was trying to beat her with a move she had always been a bit better at then him. She spun onto one hoof and, using her wings to augment her speed, angled her kick towards his fa – CRACK!

Something like an iron mallet struck Sky Blaze’s jaw. An indefinite amount of seconds passed and she found herself lying face down in the dirt, her head throbbing with pain. A muffled groan was echoing through the air and it took her a moment to realize that it was her. After several moments of agony she managed to look up, her clearing vision showing Sky Fire lying a few feet away in a similar position. He saw her at the same moment she saw him and they both shot up, both managing to hide the throbbing pain, but this time neither of them moved to attack.

“I think that was sufficient to replace our sparring session tomorrow morning.” Said Sky Fire casually, rubbing his hoof up and down his jaw to make sure it was still there.

“Agreed.”

“You know what,” said Sky Fire spitting out a small glob of blood, “That was a good enough fight, it could be enough to replace all our sparring sessions for Youtherd.”

“Fine.” Concurred Sky Blaze, “We just won’t talk to each other for the rest of the holidays.”

“Fine.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Sky Blaze woke earlier than usual with a slight headache. She tried to get back to sleep, but the din of the party outside continued to swell into a discordant babble of hoots and hollers. After a few moments she’d had enough; and sat up to close the window, but didn’t open her eyes so it would be easier to get back to sleep.

The first thing she noticed was that far too much heat and light was falling on her face then there should be. Sky Blaze had an impeccable sense of time, the feeling in her bones told her that it was about two in the morning, three at the latest and yet it was warm enough to have been midday… and she smelled smoke.

Sky Blaze opened her eyes.

In front of her she could see the moon sailing majestically through the early morning air, the stars huddling together reading the story of earth over each other’s shoulders and the blazing rooftops of a dozen houses. Sky Blaze dashed to the window, wondering what flaming idiot had let a bonfire get so out of control, and then inhaled the unmistakable scent of fresh blood and burning flesh.

The shouts beneath her morphed into cries of terror and pain; as the streets came alive with the flickering shapes of ponies running from shaggy figures two or three times their size, bellowing war-cries she didn’t recognize. Sky Blaze had only a moment to take this in, then ducked when someone lobbed a flaming torch through her window.

Chapter Fifteen >>> Tomorrow When The War Began

Author's Note

This chapter was especially difficult to write in a way that (I hope) conveys two flawed characters both giving arguments you can half-agree with.

Let me know what you think.

24 - The Price of Treason

Shining Armor wore black. His cloak’s enchanted fibers hung loosely around him, hiding even the silhouette of a pony, yet the bulky rag-like cloak never snagged, swayed in the wind or made a sound. Beneath it was a light, fibrous chain mail, that wouldn't rattle; commonly used by gilt-edged assassins.

Anything pertaining to identification, or Equestria, was gone and fake cutie-marks had been pasted over his flanks with enough precision to have a chance of fooling a post-mortem autopsy, in the event he was killed and his body needed to be left behind. Around him; six other Sun Guards were clad similar to himself.

His horn had nearly split during his battle with Obtrillion earlier that day. The medics had sealed it together as best they could, but it was fragile; and channeling too much magic could damage or destroy it completely. How much magic was ‘too much’ remained unknown; but there would be enough to rescue Twily and end a menace that had haunted him for almost two decades.

There had to be.

Looming over him, was a large warehouse whose teleport resilient walls, sixteen watch-towers and bolted steel gates accomplished more than just deter would-be robbers; but made a statement about the prestige and wealth of the four houses that stored their market wares there. It was also where Obtrillion was hiding.

Swift Kick was dead, Spike was missing, and a street vendor had seen a dragon leave with a black colt and purple mare. Spike would never have gone with Obtrillion willingly; but he could have gone if he was forced to, and he might have gone as a spy. Whether intentional or not, Spike had led Shining Armor to Obtrillion’s hideout through the micro-chip that had been imbedded in his tail when he was hatched at Celestia’s school for gifted unicorns. A few hours of tinkering with their cocients, and the Sun Guard had locked onto Spike’s signal.

An hour of tracing the perimeter, and measuring the strength of Spike’s frequency from different angles; implied a large open lounge, or office, in the center of an otherwise crowded warehouse. A place this size certainly had night guards, and there was no way they could have missed a ten-foot dragon sleeping in their lounge meaning they were in league with Obtrillion; and were to be treated as hostile.

There were four entrances to the fortified warehouse, and four teams of Sun Guards were ready to breach the doors, while two more squads would block escape routes or interference. Once they hit, it would only be a matter of minutes before the city guard appeared; so they needed to strike fast, and then get out of there without leaving incriminating evidence.

The charges were set, the teams were arranged; the time had come.

Four gates to the warehouse blasted open simultaneously and four squads of Equestria’s best stormed the warehouse. Shining Armor galloped past dozens of rows of heavy iron shelves, laden with imported woodwork, dyes, wines, perfumes and scrolls worth thousands of rupees a piece. Aegis and Marrow Slice passed behind him, checking off the empty alleys as they went, with Pin Drop flying close above, crossbow ready to put a bolt through the first target that presented itself.

The wooden door that separated Shining Armor from Spike shattered at the touch of his telekinesis, and the weaponized shards flew in like darts, embedding themselves into the zebra security force inside. Pricks of light gleamed from the defender’s weapons. Second squad broke through the opposite door. Pin Drop shot a bolt tipped in powerful paralyses venom into the foremost zebra and Shining Armor readied his next spell; but nothing inside moved.

There… were zebras inside; but they were already dead. The pegasi hung from the ceiling from ropes; bows and lances tied to their hooves in mock battle readiness, while the earthbound guards had stools under them to keep them standing and their manes tied to their armor to keep their heads raised. They were a distraction, meant to hold Shining Armor’s attention for a few precious seconds from the vat of bubbling liquid in the middle of the room, and the barrel that had been suspended over it which began dropping as soon as the first door opened.

Shining Armor tried to catch the barrel, but it shattered upon contact with his telekinesis; spilling into the exploding vat beneath and unleashing a deluge of burning plasma. A shield appeared over Shining Armor, and the two guards standing immediately on either side of him in the same second the fire hit; but for those caught outside it was too late.

Shelves toppled like dominoes out from the center; woodworks and scrolls burned in seconds; wine bottles exploded, adding to the fury; and the screams of his soldiers echoed through Shining Armor’s mind. When the initial blast had passed, Shining Armor passed control of the smaller shield to Aegis and then generated a second shield, touching almost to the warehouse walls which deprived the fires of fresh oxygen, held it for ten seconds and then let go.

Putrid smoke hung heavy, whimpers of pain were everywhere and the warehouse had been gutted. About half of the Sun Guards who had gone in were alive, protected individually or in small groups by energy shields; maybe a quarter of them were dead, and the rest were suspended in between; withering in agony with lungs too burnt to even cry out.

Obtrillion wasn’t here, the town guard soon would be; and even determining who was alive might take longer than the precious minutes that they had. Aegis knelt beside a deformed pegasus, whose wings had been burnt to the bone, and began working a spell to dull the agony; and Shining Armor followed suit, fighting the sinking feeling in his gut that the bomb hadn’t been intended to kill.

Within a few minutes, almost everyone who’d survived unhurt had been saddled with a partner who was most likely alive. Shining Armor shouldered who he thought might be Marrow, and made it about five steps before nearly tripping on something squishy. Instinctively he kicked the offending object away, and then froze when he realized what it had been. Two and a half feet of burnt flesh wrapped in purple scales.

Spike’s tail.

“Twily;” he whispered, “What have you done?”

Author's Note

Apologies for the lateness.

This is the end of Limits of the Horizons. It's sequel, Limits of Mercy, will be available tomorrow; along with a new satellite story which pole-vaulted past my word count expectations, has triggered several satellites of it's own and is surprisingly relevant to the wider story.

Be prepared for strange. :pinkiehappy:

To be continued...

Two days ago I said that Limits of Mercy would be posted yesterday.

The time it takes for a story to get approved varies, but usually happens for me within an hour.

I submitted the satellite story that goes with the first chapter of Limits of Mercy (so the link would be instantly valid) at about 1:40. When it passed moderation at about 4, I submitted Limits of Mercy a few minutes later, and it didn't get looked at before I went to med around midnight, and then got rejected, as I'd made my own prequel link in the description, rather than using the box they provided :facehoof:

I apologize for the wait; but here we go for round two.

This is where things get complicated. :pinkiehappy: