Love Letters for a Girl I Hate

by GaPJaxie

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Rarity, Adventure, Crossover, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash
Length: 9207

A collection of Skyrim/MLP crossover fics.

A collection of Skyrim/MLP crossover fics and short stories, showing three different takes on one of the Mane 6 as the Dragonborn.

Written as a Christmas gift for Cold in Gardez.

Published 2015-01-29 05:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-01-29 05:00:02 UTC

Glory

Rainbow Dash emerged onto the great balcony of Whiterun, yawning as she shoved her way through the great doors. It had been a long night, and she wasn’t sure how much she had slept—if she’d slept at all. The last two days were a blur of running, fighting, flying, and drinking which left her a little bit uncertain just how she’d come to be in Castle Dragonsreach, but she had some bounties to turn in anyway, so that worked out just fine. The balcony’s torches were still lit from the previous night, but there was enough light to see without them, and Rainbow Dash quickly spotted that the table on the balcony’s far edge was occupied.

“Hey, Proventus,” she called as she stepped up to the table. In the distance, the sun was rising, and the light made her squint sharply. She ignored the discomfort, took a deep breath, held it, and stretched. First, she stretched her left wing, lifting it straight up and then reaching it up and over her back. Then she lifted her right foreleg and reached it up over her back as well, hooking her hoof around the opposite wing. Her spine twisted sharply to allow such a feat, and when she pulled with her leg, the result was a chorus of cracking joints. She let out a stiff groan, and released the breath she was holding, repeating the exercise with her right wing and left foreleg. When she finally finished and opened her eyes again, she could see clearly other than a few floating spots, and finally noticed the other pony glaring at her.

“Good morning to you too, Dragonborn,” Proventus said, his words quiet, slow, and unfriendly. His expression wasn’t much better. He was an older earth pony, with a thinning tail and a thinner mane, both starting to turn white from their original teal. He wore a thick padded vest that covered his flanks, chest, and back, only barely leaving his cutie mark exposed. That was starting to grey as well, and the parchment and gavel looked a bit fuzzier than they probably had when he first got them. The table in front of him was spread with food: bread, cheese, honey, garlic, roast skeever, sweetrolls, and stew. A large jug of spiced wine sat in the middle, and the long table was clearly set for numerous ponies who had not yet arrived.

“Oh. Yeah.” Rainbow Dash glanced in his general direction, a gesture she decided was sufficient for his morning greeting. She kicked a chair out from the table and slid her rear down into it, leaving both of her forehooves free to work. “Hey, is there any cider?” she asked, grabbing a loaf of bread from the table and giving the spiced wine a dubious glance.

“No. And you should wait. The Jarl is off conducting an early morning inspection of the city defenses. We will start breakfast when he returns shortly.” Proventus added an forceful kick to the last word, a gesture which Rainbow Dash completely ignored. Reaching down into her vest with her teeth, she pulled out a shiny skyforge steel dagger that glowed a faint blue. The enchanted weapon, designed to shred the flesh of pony and beast alike, more than sufficed to cut the loaf of bread in half. When she was done, she returned the weapon to its sheath. “You know,” Proventus snapped, “you could buy your own house in the city.”

“Seems expensive.” Rainbow Dash shrugged her wings before reaching up to the table to grab the honeypot. She roughly upended it over half of the bread, poured out what she deemed to be a reasonable portion, and then slapped a slab of roast skeever down on top of the honey. “Besides, I’m bunking with the Companions now. They’re a real hoot, you know? Those griffons know how to party.”

“I suppose that’s where you acquired your taste for meat,” Proventus said, curling his lip back in disgust. Rainbow Dash shrugged again, and took a bite out of her now complete sandwich. “You have something...” he gestured at the side of his face.

After a moment, Rainbow Dash turned her gaze to the table, finding a silver platter of sweetrolls. She roughly picked it up, dumping the rolls out over the table and lifting the platter to use as a mirror. She could see that she was a mess—her mane tangled and sweaty, her armored vest still splattered with blood. Her knife rested over her chest, while her axe and bow hung by her sides. Her horseshoes, enchanted with the power of lightning, had left ugly scorch marks over her hooves that nicely mirrored the electrical burn marks along the side of her face. She considered them for a time.

“Yeah, no,” she finally said. “I think I’m going to leave those. Warriors respect a few scars, you know? Plus, it’s a great story. I’ve never seen a mage throw lightning bolts like that. He totally thought he had me right up to fus-roh-offthecliff!” She chuckled, sitting back in her chair. ”Oh hey, are you sure there’s no cider?” she asked suddenly. “Because I am craving cider.”

“Did you have any business here today?” Proventus demanded, the feigned politeness dropping from his tone in favor of outright hostility.

“Yef,” Rainbow Dash spoke through a mouth full of bread, sticky honey, and roast meat. “That rift bandit guy.” She swallowed. “He’s dead.”

“The bandit leader at Rift Watchtower?” Proventus asked. Rainbow shrugged, and the earth pony scowled. “I got reports of his death nearly a month ago. Are you telling me you waited until now to bother collecting the money?”

Before Rainbow could answer, a distant roar carried through the air. It echoed off the stone walls of the city and across the rooftops, reverberating multiple times across the two ponies ears. In the streets below the balcony, the reaction was the immediate. Though the ponies of Whiterun were too far away to be heard, Rainbow Dash and Proventus alike could see them freeze for a moment—and then gallop away in all directions, scattering like startled insects.

“Well, basically,” Rainbow Dash said, kicking the chair away as she rose from the table. “I’ve been a little busy.” She briefly stretched her wings, readied her bow, lifted her haunches, and then leapt off the edge of the balcony. The cold morning air of Skyrim caught her wings, the sudden tension in her feathers pulling her up and away. So early in the day, there were no thermals to catch, so she flapped hard to gain altitude, quickly pulling above the roof of Dragonsreach. The roar sounded again, and in the distance, she spotted a gout of flame, the light emerging from the farms around Whiterun. She spun, lowered her wings, and took a breath.

“Wuld Na KEST!” she roared, and a massive whirlwind sprung up around her. Hurricane force winds sprung up around her, strong enough to pick up a pony like a ragdoll. Her open wings caught the full brunt of the gust, her posterior shoulders screaming in pain as the wind did its best to wrench them from their sockets. But Rainbow knew her limits, and the joints held as she was hurled forward through the air.

The whirlwind lasted only a few seconds, but the moment it was over, Rainbow Dash snapped her wings in closer to her sides and stretched out her body. Her profile thus lowered, there was nothing to arrest her velocity, and her course became ballistic. She flew like shot from a catapult, gravity pulling her faster and faster towards the ground as she arced over Whiterun’s walls and towards the outlying farms. The wind pulled her tail straight behind her, pushed back her ears, and lashed itself against her face with such intensity that frost started to form across her cheeks and brow.

Her vision blurred, and she squeezed her eyes shut, but she could tell she was close to her target. There it was in front of her, a blurry red mass that was the source of the flame. She extended her wings slightly, tilting them to guide her. Her throat still burned from her last mighty dragon shout, and it would be a little while before she could conjure the whirlwind again. But there was one other shout she could use. A shout of her own discovery, though thus far she only knew two words of it. She tensed her body, and against the low pressure cone created by the wind, forced herself to take one more deep breath.

“Hey, ugly!” she screamed, whirling in mid-flight so her rear hooves went first. She slammed into the dragon’s back at full speed, both of her rear hooves impacting in the middle of its ribcage. It was like getting hit by an out of control wagon, the shock striking Rainbow with such force she briefly thought she’d bounced off completely. When she realized her knees had buckled, her body had already slammed fully into the dragon’s side. Both of them tumbled, rolling in a chaotic mess to the ground. The creature’s tail lashed, and Rainbow flew through the air, landing in a heap on what felt like a pile of hay.

Rainbow groaned, and slowly picked herself up, spots dancing in her vision. Now that she could see clearly, she realized she was near the Pelagia farm on the outskirts of the city. The dragon had been in the process of burning down the windmill when she’d struck, and it now lay next to the burning windmill as it struggled to rise to its feet. Rainbow noted with a certain smug satisfaction that sparks still crackled over its body, originating from the hoof-shaped impact marks along its back.

Her joy was short lived though, as the creature hauled itself up onto its feet and wings with a furious roar. It was a dull red, with an uncommonly long hooked muzzle, and trails of smoke still emerging from its nose and mouth. Looking around quickly, Rainbow Dash spotted her bow lying in the grass a few dozen yards away. She sprinted over, swept it from the ground, and flew into the air with a single beat of her wings. Once her legs were free, she held the front of the bow with both forehooves, took the string in her teeth, and pulled it back. The dragon turned to notice her just as she finished the motion, and an ethereal blue arrow appeared in the bow of its own accord.

Rainbow Dash released her jaw, and a moment later, the arrow bounced off the dragon’s shoulder. Rainbow could immediately tell it had done no damage, but that was not her goal. Her goal was to get and hold the beast’s attention, and when it let out a furious roar, she knew she had succeeded. She ignored its sound and fury, turning and flying away before it could launch any real attacks.

The dragon took to the skies and gave chase, just as Rainbow had planned. It was faster than her, but not by much, and her head start gave her plenty of time to kite it along. She spun and weaved as she flew low across the landscape, twisting her body so she could fire her bow behind her while losing a minimum of speed. Some of the arrows missed, others bounced, and a few actually landed, but all of them irritated the creature. Rainbow could tell it was seeing red, screaming in incoherent rage as it pursued her. It opened its jaw, and deep from within it’s reptilian maw poured forth a rumbling voice. “Yol Toor!”

“Crud!” Rainbow Dash banked her wings down and dove as a blast of fire raced through the air around her. It didn’t fully hit, but it didn’t quite miss either, and pain screamed through Rainbow’s back and neck. She smelled melting feathers and burning hair, but she was still flying, so she knew it wasn’t a direct hit on her wings. She realized that the dragon was closer than she thought. She’d hoped to get out into the mountains first, and she was still over the farms outside the city, but there was no time.

“Alright you dumb ugly lizard. Come and get me!” she roared. She picked a landmark at random—a building below her—and angled straight for it. She dropped her bow, and let it fall away. She picked up speed as she fell, hearing the dragon gaining on her. She reached down with a forehoof to find the shaft of her axe. “Fus-”

Just at the moment before impact, Rainbow pulled up sharply. She flew in a tight arc, backflipping up and over the dragon. It turned to follow her, snapping at her with its mighty jaws. “Roh-” The two spun through the air until the dragon was vertical, and Rainbow Dash behind him. She lowered her head, looked at its tail, and spoke: “DAH!”

The blast of force caught the dragon in its tail and lower body, flipping it over onto its back. It fell like a stone, smashing back first into the building, which crumpled under its weight. The thatch roof gave way and the walls fell in, and Rainbow Dash grinned viciously when she realized the shattered timbers were forming a crude cage, trapping the beast’s legs and wings. She spun, righted herself, balanced her axe in both forelegs, and dived for the creatures exposed underbelly. The axe found it’s target over the creature’s heart, and blood splattered over Rainbow Dash’s legs and armor.

Before Rainbow Dash could lift the weapon to strike again, the Dragon violently twisted its spine, trying to shake her from its belly. A quick beat of her wings lifted her from its scales, but she lost her grip on her axe, which remained stuck in the knotted muscles of its underside. She dived, grabbing the weapon and heaving with all her might—flesh tearing as the axe came free. She flipped the weapon around so the spike on the back of the blade pointed forward, and again swung. The dragon got a wing free of the debris, and struck at Rainbow Dash, but the blow arrived a hair too late. The spike of the axe plunged down through the open wound moments before the undirected wing strike knocked Rainbow from the creatures belly.

Rainbow hit the floor, landing hard on a pile of broken timber. She felt something tear, and knew that she now had lacerations to match her burns, but she paid the injuries no mind. The dragon was roaring still, but its voice carried more than just fury. A sickly gurgling sound told Rainbow Dash how close she’d come to the mark, and scrambled back to her hooves. She looked for her axe, but it was still stuck in the wound, and she quickly made other plans.

The dragon roared again, its tail lashed, and two of the buildings walls collapsed as it started to work its way free. Rainbow ducked under a massive flailing wing and charged towards the dragons shoulders. She pulled her little knife from its sheath, and struck where the dragon’s neck met its body. A sharp motion of her head plunged the knife into a vein, and in one motion, Rainbow withdrew the blade and ducked away from the inevitable counterattack. A talon whipped through the air where Rainbow had been just moments before, but she was already attacking again.

She struck three times this way, until the dragon’s flailing finally dislodged her axe and she swept it from the floor. The beast’s motions were growing sluggish, but Rainbow took no notice, except to take advantage. She hovered above the thrashing creature as she swung again and again.

She didn’t notice when it went still, and kept hacking away at its corpse until a bright orange light shone from it’s body. It was only then that she realized the beast was gone. “Oh yeah,” she grinned, tossing her axe away. “Come to mama.” She opened her jaw, and inhaled the orange light, sucking the dragons essence right from its body. Its flesh seemed to evaporate away as its life energy poured down Rainbow’s throat, until she hovered above a cage of bones. She felt stronger—larger, somehow—and she laughed.

“Oooh, I’m sorry,” she mocked the bones as she moved past the dragon’s ribcage, landing and striding from the wrecked building. “Let me show you how it’s done.” She emerged from the building, and craned her neck up towards the sky. “Yol Toor SHUL!”

Rainbow’s jaw stretched open, and a blast of fire fifty feet in length roared out of her mouth. When the blast of fire was done, she giggled and lowered her head. It was only then that she noticed the half dozen ponies in the yard in front of her, staring at her with open-mouth shock.

“Who...” asked one of them, a young earth pony mare in a dress. “What...”

“Yeah. Hey.” Rainbow reached up to push her mane back over her ears. “I’m Rainbow Dash. You’ve probably heard of me. I’m the Dragonborn. Thane of Whiterun. Hero of Skyrim. The Great Dragonslayer. You know, basically, I’m kind of a big deal.”

The mare continued to stare with her mouth agape, and Rainbow turned slightly, noticing the sign behind her. Though surrounded by debris from the house, the sign was still intact, and informed visitors that this was the Honningbrew Meadery. “Oh!” Rainbow said quickly. “Honningbrew. I’ve heard of you!”

“You... have?” the mare asked. Her words were sluggish, and her eyes were dilated and blank. The other ponies behind he couldn't even muster up the will to speak.

“Oh, yeah.” Rainbow nodded. Then she jerked her head towards the destroyed house, now filled with dragon bones. “So, I know mead is your thing, but do you have any apple cider? Because I’m craving apple cider right now.”

Behind Rainbow, the last freestanding wall of the house collapsed. The mare opened and shut her jaw, but said nothing.

Freedom

“You’re viewing the problem too holistically,” Twilight said, speaking slowly and deliberately. She lowered her muzzle to the table before her, indicating the scrolls, books, and numerous tokens there. They were the tools of spell design, and she knew them all well, the tip of her muzzle highlighting those most relevant spaces. “You must separate the components. Handle them each individually.”

“Forgive me, friend, but I do not see how that is possible,” J’zargo replied, shaking his head. His voice was faster than hers, and when he gestured at the table, the motion was broad and sweeping. “J’zargo has seen your magic and he accepts that your theories work, but he does not understand them. To handle all the parts separately, it is as to build every floor of a house apart from the others, and only then seek to fit them together. Worse, your plans for the different floors seem to contradict each other. Surely it cannot be so.”

Twilight frowned as J’zargo spoke, and the conversation lapsed into silence as she considered her answer at length. The two spellcasters sat in the Arch-Mage’s quarters at the College of Winterhold, facing eachother around a table. Though the room was cavernous and grand, they sat close together, enveloped inside the small garden that defined the center of the room. Ever since coming into the title of Arch-Mage and inheriting the quarters, Twilight had expanded the garden considerably, adding a small trail down the middle, and two stone benches. It had gone from being a decorative fixture to a living space where two ponies—or a pony and a cat—could sit and be surrounded by green.

Twilight had taken the bench further from the exit, which sat under the flowering branches of a small dogwood tree. She looked the picturesque role of a unicorn spellcaster—her horn adorned with a silver cap and her body wrapped in a royal purple robe. The formal mages’ attire hid her cutie mark, replacing it with a silk flank-cloth that showed the seal of the College at Winterhold. The entire outfit made her seem quite regal, and in another context it might have been imposing, but her posture was relaxed and informal. She sat along the length of the bench, resting on her belly, her forehooves folded in front of her. Her face was creased in concentration as she looked at the table, and silently sought a way to express herself.

On the other bench sat J’zargo. He was a Khajiit—the feline counterpart to the greater pony species. Like ponies, they were four-legged creatures, more given to using their teeth than their limbs to manipulate objects, and like ponies they had three subspecies: tigers, mountain lions, and wild cats. It was to this last group that J’zargo belonged, and like many of his race, he had a somewhat wiry look about him. He was small, springy, and just a hair unkempt, wrapped in powder-blue apprentices robes that were going grey at the edges. As he waited for Twilight to speak, he leaned down to lick the underside of his paw, running it through his fur.

“Perhaps,” he suggested, when the silence grew overlong, “we could review the spell components again? That may clarify the misunderstanding.”

“No,” Twilight finally said. “It’s not about the components. Your conceptual understanding is flawed. It’s not like creating multiple floors of a building, it’s like...” She struggled for the words. “Creating multiple buildings. Like having many houses, and choosing which one to live in when. The key is...” Again she paused. Her ears tilted back just so, and she bit her lip. “The key is time.”

“Time?” J’zargo asked. He sat up, but his expression did not change—ears alert, eyes focused, and mouth draw straight across his face.

“Yes,” Twilight nodded. “Your conception of time is flawed. You’re viewing events as happening simultaneously, when they actually occur discreetly. The order of events is only added post-fact.”

“That is an interesting way of viewing things,” J’zargo said, his tail twitching behind him. “So, to your thinking, a candle decides it wishes to burst into flames, and I decide I wish to light a match, and it is only after we are both done that I decide the match lit the candle?” His tone contained no outright skepticism, and was even moderately curious, but Twilight shied away from him anyway, turning her head down to look at the bushes around them.

“No. No. Matches do light candles. It’s more...” She taped the bench with her hooves, a few seconds of silence passing between them. “Tiid Klo Ul. Only not.”

“Helpful,” J’zargo said, uttering the word with a flat, dry intonation. Twilight’s blush deepened.

“Sorry,” she said, before giving a small shake of her head. “I know I’m only confusing you more. It’s kind of hard to explain to mortals.”

“Mortals,” J’zargo said, in much the same tone he’d used a moment ago.

“Okay, stop that!” Twilight said, flicking her tail back and forth sharply. She still did not raise her head to him, keeping her gaze fixed on the bench. “It’s not funny.”

“It was your choice of words, not J’zargo’s.” His words were still flat and dry, but after he finished speaking, he leaned forward on his bench. His expression changed, ears folding back as his mouth turned down into a slight frown. “Does that imply that you are not mortal?”

“You know very well I’m not,” Twilight huffed.

“I know what a sage or a scholar would tell me, yes,” he agreed, his tone more intent. “But that is not what J’zargo was asking.”

Twilight shifted uncomfortably in place. Her body swayed on the bench as she tried and failed to find a comfortable place to rest her rear hooves, her forehooves tapping together gently. Her ears folded back, and she lifted her head to J’zargo, only to lower it back to the floor. A faint sound that was not a word emerged from her throat, and it was several long seconds before she could raise her head to him again. Finally though, she looked him in the eye and spoke. “Yes. I’m a dragon.”

“Mmmm,” was all J’zargo said in reply, showing no more expression than a slight twitch in his whiskers.

Twilight snorted, and a tension came to her eyes. “I’m not going to start burning villages or carrying off maidens or anything,” she snapped, voice rising as her tone turned defensive.

“J’zargo said no such thing.” He raised his paw as though to signal surrender. “But he does wonder what prompted this change.”

“J’zargo, I...” Twilight licked her lips. “How would you feel if I cheated on you? Um... if we were romantic, I mean. It’s a hypothetical.”

“Bad I suppose!?” Lidya shouted, the incredulity in her tone barely audible over the distinctive scream of destruction magic. Lightning and fire arced all around them, heating the air until it seemed to ripple and filling it with the pungent smell of ozone.The bandits at Uttering Hills Camp had turned out to have considerably more unicorns than they had anticipated, and the pair were pinned down behind a boulder. “Is now really the time for this!?”

“Huh?” Twilight looked up from the ground. As Thane of Whiterun and leader of the Companions, she wore the heaviest of armor—a veritable wall of steel that even her earth pony housecarl would struggle to lift. All that could be seen of her were her hooves and the tip of her horn where it emerged from her helmet. Even her eyes were hidden, as the gleam of sunlight reflecting off her helmet obscured the narrow eye-slit. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

Hefting her tower shield in hand, Twilight rose from behind the rock she and Lidya used as cover. She was immediately struck by wave after wave of spells and arrows—jets of fire that splashed against the steel plate, and shafts of wood that shattered against her shield. She ignored the blasts, and reached back to her saddlebags to retrieve her weapons. On her left side hung the mighty Axe of Whiterun—a brutal two-headed chopping weapon with a shaft as long as Twilight. On her right hung a collection of throwing axes, and it was for these she reached first.

“We’ve got her now! Move around the rock and—” The bandit leader’s last command went unfinished as the thrown axe struck him between the eyes. He crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut, and the ponies on either side of him scrambled for cover. Undaunted by their leaders demise, the bandits continued to fire, and by sheer weight of numbers began to have an effect. Arrows found the weak points in Twilight’s armor, driving deep into her shoulders and chest. Fire found its way through her joints and the gap between her helmet and chestplate, producing the pungent smell of burning flesh. But Twilight showed no pain, and with perfect drill-yard form, threw two more axes. The first caught an advancing warrior in the knee, while the second sheared away a spellcaster’s horn, sending two more foes to the ground. Then, without so much as a grunt, Twilight calmly sat back down behind the rock.

“What the...?” Lidya asked, staring wide-eyed at the unicorn beside her. Lidya had always considered herself tough. She was small for an earth pony, but her cutie mark was a shield and a one-ton weight, and her tan coat often served to conceal the many bruises she’d gained brawling as a child. She knew she could take a blow, and the armored chestplate and saddle she wore came very naturally to her, but the extent of her friend’s wounds left her gaping.

Twilight’s large shield was a scorched and battered mess, and her armor was penetrated in multiple places by arrows or blast marks. The smell of melted skin and burning fur was pungent around her, along with the tang of blood. It was obvious at a glance that her injuries were critical, but she showed not the slightest trace of distress. Finally, when she recovered enough to speak, Lidya blurted out, “Are you insane!? You could have been killed!”

“I’ll be fine. I have potions,” Twilight said, calmly removing them from her bag one at a time.

“They’ll be on us any second!” Lidya shouted, looking up into the sky. There were a few pegasai amongst the bandits, and she did not doubt that they would soon take to the air in an attempt to support their mages. But the skies above them were clear.

“They won’t attack until I’m ready,” Twilight said, her tone suddenly tense, even upset. Lidya ignored her Thane, who had clearly gone mad, and readied herself for the melee assault.

But it didn’t come. Twilight drank her potions slowly and deliberately, taking a few good seconds for each one. It would only have taken the bandits half that time to cover the distance to the rock, but Lidya soon realized Twilight was on her third potion. Not only had the assault never come, but the pattern of spells ricocheting off the rock had assumed a familiar quality—a regular cadence. Hesitantly, Lidya lifted her head towards the edge of the rock, and then dared to look out and peek. She saw the raiders braced for a charge, their pegasi about to take to the air for a two-pronged assault.

But they didn’t take to the air. They didn’t attack. They just sat there as their mages blasted away, like they were waiting for some unseen signal.

“What’s happening?” Lidya asked breathlessly, falling back behind the rock and sitting next to Twilight.

“They won’t attack until I’m ready,” Twilight repeated. To Lidya’s shock, Twilight pulled a bowl of oats out of her bag and started absentmindedly eating them one at a time as she ripped the arrows out of her shoulders. Everything about Twilight’s stance was unhurried, even indifferent, and when Lidya checked on the raiders again, but they hadn’t budged an inch since she last looked.

“Did you enchant them or something?” Lidya asked. She’d never seen Twilight use much magic, apart from basic healing spells. The Thane of Whiterun was legendary as a proud warrior, not a sniveling spellcaster.

“I didn’t do anything to them, no,” Twilight said, not looking up from her oats.

“Then why are they just standing there!?” Lidya demanded.

“Because I am a dragon.” Her tone was dry, perhaps even a little bitter. “Lidya, I’m sorry, I know this is difficult for you, but could you answer my first question please?”

“I...” Lidya turned her head back to the edge of the rock, watching the spells roar and crackle there. Then she turned to Twilight, and saw the intense frown on her Thane’s face. “Yes, Thane. Yes. As you wish.” She forced herself to swallow. “I suppose if we were romantic and you cheated on me I would feel bad. That’s what cheating is about, isn’t it?”

Twilight nodded, and munched on another oat. She swallowed. “What if we were apart for a long time?” she asked. “What if there were places you couldn't go? And I was away?”

“I... guess I’d understand?” Lidya asked, ears folded tight against her head. The crash of the impacting spells had repeated so many times she could hear the regular pattern, and her ears were starting to adjust to the noise. “Twilight, what brings this up now?”

“What if I made you do something you didn’t want to do?” Twilight asked, ignoring Lidya’s question.

“I am sworn to carry your burdens,” Lidya replied automatically. But a frown appeared on her own face, and she turned to look at the rock. “Make me do something how?”

“I don’t have the words for it. It’s a ship getting pulled by currents it can’t see. Or a bird being guided by the wind. It’s Gol Hah Dov. Only not.” Twilight looked down at her bowl, and ate another oat. “It’s a stallion who travels far and has a mare in every land he visits, knowing they shall never meet each other. Can’t meet each other. And even if they did, they would not perceive that they had been wronged.”

“Because they don’t mind their stallion sleeping around, or...?” Lidya asked. She looked to the rock again, and then back to her Thane, but Twilight still did not answer. “The thing you did to them. Whatever it is. Have you ever done it to me?”

“Yes,” Twilight said, looking at the grass and not meeting Lidya’s eyes.

“When?” Lidya asked, her voice hesitant and her expression uncertain.

“All the time. Ever since I realized I could.” Twilight’s voice was tight, and her gaze remained resolutely fixed on the ground.

Lidya swallowed. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to be a warrior,” Twilight hissed, keeping her voice low as she and Kharjo snuck across the rooftops of Solitude. His paws were silent on the shingles and thatch, while she had wrapped her hooves in thick cloth. Each was nearly invisible in the darkness—Twilight was wrapped in a silky black fabric, while Kharjo’s dark fur served him well. Though one was Khajiit and one was a pony, they moved with equal grace across the roofs, until they came to the window of the house the thieves guild had marked for them. “And because I wanted to be a mage. And because I wanted to be with you too. And why should I have to choose?”

“Keep your voice down,” Kharjo hissed, checking the streets below as Twilight levitated out her lockpicks. She adeptly opened the window, and the two slipped inside. They were in a small study of some kind, lit only by the moonlight from the window. The house was cold and quiet, the owner evidently still out for the night.

“Or what?” Twilight snorted. Without bothering to look at what she was taking, she levitated the entire contents of the room’s little shelf and shoved them into her bag, every item on and in the desk quickly following. “I’ll get caught. Or I won’t. And I won’t. I have options.”

“Twilight...” Kharjo stepped up behind her, laying a paw on her shoulder. “I’m starting to worry about you. You sound unwell. We all want many things. That is a part of life for us all.”

“Wanting it? Yes.” Twilight shoved the next shelf worth of possessions into her bag. Kharjo frowned as he looked at Twilight’s back, and realized her little saddle pack was somehow holding considerably more items than should have fit inside it. “But having it? That’s where we’re different. That’s where we’re different you and me. That’s why you’re a mortal and I’m a dragon.” Twilight’s voice was tight. “Because we both want many things, but you? You have to pick. I can have it all.”

“You are becoming irrational,” Kharjo said, his voice quiet and soothing. He reached up to pull back her mane, gently resting his paw against the side of her neck. “This isn’t like you.”

“How would you know?” Twilight whirled in place to face him, shrugging his paw off her shoulder. “You don’t know me. The whole time you’ve known me, I’ve been a thief. A low-life looking to practice her sneaking. I’ve helped you break the law. I’ve helped you deal Moon Sugar. I’ve cheated and I’ve stolen for money I didn’t need. You never knew me when I was a studious arch-mage. You never knew me when I was a valiant warrior!”

“Twilight, you have never...” Kharjo paused, the words dying in his throat as his brow furrowed. He narrowed his eyes without looking at anything in particular, and his paw slowly returned to the floor.

“Never been an arch-mage? Never been a warrior?” Twilight snorted. “Say it. Say I haven't been. Only you can’t, can you? Because you remember that I am those things. I am the arch-mage of Winterhold. And the great Thane! But that doesn’t make any sense because you also remember I’m a thief and a member of the Dark Brotherhood.”

“Keep... keep your voice down,” Kharjo said, but his voice was uncertain, and he found himself backing away from Twilight. “The guards will hear.”

“So what if they do?” Twilight snorted.

“Twilight, what’s happening to you?” Kharjo asked, his tail bumping into the wall behind him.

“I’m realizing what I am, Kharjo. I’m realizing I get it both ways.” She advanced on him, her eyes wide and her motions wild. “That’s why I’m always the hero. When a mare comes to me, pleading for help? Why shouldn’t I help her. A mortal would have to make a choice. Risk and danger, can I help her, what will it cost me, but not me. I can do it every time. And if I don’t feel like it, what does it matter? She’ll wait for me. She’ll wait forever.”

Twilight snorted, and a jet of smoke escaped her nose. Kharjo scrambled to the side and away, his rear paws finding an unsteady purchase as he tried to retreat out the window. “Twilight, listen to yourself.” he urged. “This isn’t the pony I met. This is madness!”

“I’m not a pony, Kharjo! I’m a dragon. I’m the child of Akatosh! I’m a god in mortal flesh!” she shouted, her voice wild and emotional. “I’m the Mul Qua Diiv. Only not. Space and time bow before me! And I get what I want. I get what I want every time.”

“Okay...” Kharjo said, nodding slowly. The window was perilously close to the edge of the roof, and already his tail was hanging out over empty space. He kept his motions slow, and his voice calm as he asked. “And what do you want?”

“I want you to stop hating me for it!” she bellowed, her voice cracking. Tears came to her eyes, and she stamped her hoof on the floor. “It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault I’m the way I am. I just... I like you, Kharjo! I like you all and I want to get to know you and I want to see how your stories work out. I want to see how my story works out. I want to make Skyrim right! And I can’t do that the way a mortal should! I have to go and... and come back and—”

“If you must go,” Kharjo said, his slow but firm intonations rolling over Twilight’s more hurried speech. “Then Khajiit will be here when you return.”

“You don’t understand,” Twilight snapped.

“I understand perfectly.” Kharjo stepped down from the window, and slowly moved forward to stand in front of her. He took a breath, considered his next move, and then lifted his paw to his face. He licked its underside, reached up, and carefully pushed Twilight’s mane back behind her ear. The smell of cat spit made Twilight’s muzzle scrunch up, and Kharjo chuckled quietly, though his expression remained serious. “Twilight, earlier, you asked how I would feel if you cheated on me. But you are not my wife. And even if you were, I would not wish to own you. You are my friend and companion. I travel with you, but there will be adventures you have without me.”

“I’m not just going on little side missions, Kharjo. I have another life,” Twilight insisted.

“Khajiit lead many lives.” Kharjo said, lowering his voice as a gentle smile appearing on his face. “And so do dragons it seems. Before Kharjo was a warrior, he was a messenger, and before that he turned hay. Once, he was romantic, once he was womanizer. Your lives just have fewer years between them.”

“And, what, you’re just going to ignore that I do other things?” Twilight demanded, her tail tucked in beneath her.

“No,” Kharjo said, his smile gradually growing to a grin. “Khajiit will demand many stories.”

“But... why?” Twilight asked, looking up at Lidya. Stuck behind the rock, the two of them were crammed in nearly muzzle to muzzle, and Lidya could clearly see the tears pooling in Twilight’s eyes.

“Because, my Thane, I like you. Despite your best efforts.” The little earth pony gave a small roll of her eyes, and wrapped a foreleg around Twilight’s shoulder. “I like it when you’re around, but I don’t expect you to be around always. I like it when I can make you happy, but I don’t resent it when somepony else does. You see?”

“And it’s that simple?” Twilight asked.

“Of course!” J’zargo squeezed Twilight’s shoulder and held her close. “Why should it be complicated? It is friendship, not magic.”

Twilight sniffled, smiled, and then leaned forward to pull her companion into a hug.

Mirth

“Hail, Jarl Balgruuf!” Rarity called as she strode into the halls of Dragonsreach. As all nords, the Jarl was an earth pony with a stocky build and wide hooves well suited for snow. His mane and tail were a light gold that very nearly matched his crown, and he adorned himself with a patterned red tunic and fur about the shoulders. Despite the chill in the air, his cutie mark was left bare for all the world to see, clearly showing the castle of Dragonsreach and the very crown he wore. Sitting as he was on his throne, surrounded by guards and advisors, there could be no doubt in the mind of any who saw him that he was the city’s rightful ruler.

“Hail, Dragonborn,” he answered, raising his voice to be heard across the long wooden hall. He gestured Rarity forward, waiting as she strode up the long staircase and then past the longer banquet table. Thane of Whiterun and the mighty dovahkiin, Rarity cut a surprisingly elegant figure. Not nordic but an imperial unicorn, she had a slender frame and a coat so white it matched the snow falling outside. Though she had just set hoof indoors from Skyrim’s infamous winters, she was bare save for her jewelry: a stylish rowan wood headband that helped hold back her mane, a simple necklace, and a small jewelled tail bob that seemed vaguely sorcerous. The overall effect was subtle, but compellingly feminine—far from the image some expected of the Great Dragonslayer.

“I came as soon as I got your summons,” Rarity said when she reached the base of the Jarl’s throne, bowing so low her horn almost scraped the floor. “Is Whiterun in peril?”

“No, Dragonborn. I thank you for your haste, but I have called you here to discuss another matter.” The Jarl leaned forward in his chair, his eyes locked on Rarity’s “Some of my advisors have brought me disturbing reports of your recent actions.”

“Yes, I knew it was only a matter of time until such reports reached your ears.” Rarity sighed, and tossed back her mane. “I won’t deny it! I have taken the Black Sacrament and joined the Dark Brotherhood. They are utterly despicable creatures, and servants of a darkness most vile, but they are a weapon I can use to bring this civil war to an end. Skyrim will survive the Brotherhood, but it may not survive being divided against itself. I understand if you have your doubts—”

Jarl Balgruuf raised a hoof, and Rarity fell silent. “I was... not aware of the events of which you speak, Dragonborn.”

“Oh,” Rarity paused. “Then you must have heard that I’m an officer in the thieves guild.”

“Ah... no. I had not.”

“That I sell Skooma outside the city gates?”

“Nope.”

“That all my jewelry is made with black soul gems?”

“That would explain how you were able to afford so much.”

“That I’m married to eight different stallions and two mares?”

“Impressive. But no.”

“Then what,” Rarity asked, pulling her head back and lifting her ears. “Could you possibly have called me here to discuss?”

“According to reports from the orphanage,” the Jarl said, “you have adopted over eighteen foals in the last month alone. I was concerned that they weren’t being cared for.”

“Oh, of course!” Rarity said, shaking her head firmly. “I completely understand. No, don’t worry, Jarl. They’re well cared for. I just couldn't leave them out the street. They were so lonely, and precious! I simply had to do everything I could to help them.”

“Well... that is under two children per spouse, so. I suppose that’s more reasonable,” the Jarl said slowly. “You’re very generous.”

“Well, it was the least I could do after I killed their parents,” Rarity shook her head. “I’ve never looked better, but honestly, being a vampire has turned out to be far more trouble than I anticipated.”

The Jarl tapped his hooves together slowly, and considered the the mare in front of him. He worked his jaw, took in a breath, and then let out a thoughtful noise. Then finally he spoke. “Two mares?”

“Amulet of Mara,” she said, playfully twirling her necklace, adorned as it was with the symbols of the Goddess of Love.

“Ah,” he paused. “Right.”

“Well, that was a refreshing adventure. Come now, Lydia! I think that table will look perfect in the Manor. And if not, it will make a lovely dining room piece in Honeyside.” Rarity elegantly skipped her way up out of the cairn, as behind her, Lydia struggled to drag the half-dozen looting sacks inelegantly strapped to her saddle. Tied to her with a pair of ropes was an ancient, rough-hewn Nordic table, made entirely of stone and slightly larger than she was. Rarity easily made it to the top of the stairs, and then pulled out her whistle, giving it a shrill blow.

“Not to...” Lydia tried to speak, huffing and puffing with every step. “Question your wisdom my...”

“Breathe, Lydia. Don’t speak in fragments.”

Lydia fell into silence as she struggled to the top of the steps, her heavy breathing audible. She managed to make it all the way to the last step before she collapsed, lying on her side as she took deep, desperate gasps for air. Finally, she managed to speak, “Not to question your wisdom, my Thane, but I do not think we will be able to carry this table that far”

“Oh, don’t worry, Lydia. We won’t be walking.” Rarity laughed. “Last time we were in town, I purchased this enchanted whistle. One blow conjures a powerful magical flying beast to carry us wherever we wish to go.”

“Very good... my Thane,” Lydia managed a weak nod. In the distance, the sound of galloping hooves could faintly be heard. Lydia and Rarity alike raised their heads, in time to see a blue form streak towards them. A cyan pegasus with a distinctive rainbow mane, little beats of her wings making her gallop all the faster. She sped towards Rarity, and came to a sudden halt, her hooves digging little ruts in the ground.

“Rainbow Dash?” Rarity blinked and leaned away. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh... you called me?” she replied. After a moment, she nodded at Rarity’s whistle. “Powerful magical flying beast?” Rarity blinked once. Then again.

“So uh...” Rainbow Dash coughed. “You wanna just get on or what?”

Emerging from under the cover of her invisibility spell, Rarity crept forward into the darkened alley. She hated to expose herself, but she knew her contact would react poorly to being snuck up on. Thieves tended to have a certain brand of paranoia. She was out of sight of the street, but kept low anyway, looking carefully through the shadows. As a vampire, her night vision was excellent, and she soon picked out an outline in the gloom—the distinctive form of a mountain lion.

“Khajiit was getting tired of waiting,” whispered the cat, slinking forward out of the darkness. His whiskers curled back in a grimace of disgust, which had the effect of showing off his long, predatory teeth. “Perhaps Rarity wishes to take her business elsewhere?”

“Stop being dramatic,” Rarity chided. “You know very well there’s nowhere else to go. The merchants in this town are impossible! Somehow they always know when my goods are stolen. I have nineteen foals to feed, plus six anniversaries coming up. I need to liquidate a few items post haste.”

“You’re still late.” The mountain lion growled. “But Khajiit will see what you have to offer.”

Rarity withdrew the sack from over her back, and slowly opened it. Her horn glowed, and from within, she drew forth a tomato. The mountain lion’s eyes widened, and he sniffed at the air appreciatively.

“It’s the good stuff. Plucked from right under the innkeepers nose,” Rarity said, keeping her voice low. “Three septims each. And if you get caught using them, we never met.”

“Yes.” The mountain lion nodded. “We can deal.”

“Please no! My shop hasn’t turned a profit in months!” begged the shopkeep. He was a scrawny little pegasus, with a wirey yellow mane that clashed unpleasantly with his lime-green coat. He wore only a loose-fitting collar and a set of iron horseshoes that banged awkwardly on the ground as he fell to his knees.

“Now now,” Rarity said, tisking quietly. “We’ve spoken about this. I’m on a quest to save the world. You do recall that, yes? And that you are a part of the world?”

“Yes, but—”

“So, therefore,” she said, her smooth and calm intonations easily overpowering his panicked stuttering. “I’m doing you a favor. Saving your life, really.”

“Yes, I understand, and I’m grateful, but—”

“Ah ah,” Rarity lifted a hoof. “You had a chance to charge reasonable prices. Now we have to do things the hard way. You know the rules.”

“Can’t... can’t I keep some of it?” he begged, starting to tear up. “I have two foals to feed!”

“Wow, two foals. That must be so difficult.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “You know the rules,” she repeated, lifting the basket. “Don’t make me use The Voice. It puts the basket on its head...”

“Or it gets the shout again,” the merchant sniffled. Rarity nodded, and gently lowered the basket over his head. There he sat behind the shop counter, crying quietly as he heard the sound of his inventory being rearranged.

Eventually, he realized the sound had stopped, and opened his eyes. Rarity was gone, and all of the inventory was gone with her. Every drawer was empty. Every shelf was bare. With one look, he could see that it was all gone.

He could see. He lifted a hoof to his tear-stained eyes.

She’d stolen the basket too.

Another fireball from the rebel mage landed in the middle of the Imperial formation, scattering ponies in all directions. What had been a peaceful forest a scant few minutes ago was now a scene from soldiers’ nightmares. Ponies lay screaming and dying, with shattered limbs or arcane burns. Huge sections of the woods were on fire, and the rest was filled with traps. It was a perfect ambush, and the fifteen odd imperial defenders were now less than a half dozen.

“There’s nothing for it,” Rarity shouted from behind the cover of the trees, hunkered down with what few imperial survivors remained. Her leg was battered from a bear trap she’d missed, her perfect mane scorched by spellfire. “We’ll never win unless we engage those mages in melee combat. I’m going to have to charge them.”

“You can’t!” one of the soldiers shouted. “That’s a hundred yards of no cover, it’s riddled with traps, and you’ve got an injured leg!”

“Don’t worry.” Rarity reached down to pat the soldier's shoulder. “Just stand fast and you’ll be fine. I have a secret weapon that will get me across that field unharmed.” Gesturing to the other soldiers, she turned to face the enemy, and took a deep breath. “Stand back!”

Reaching into her pack, Rarity pulled out a dozen wheels of cheese. Taking a deep bite of the first one, the drew her sword, and charged.

Lydia lay back in bed, letting out a relaxed sigh. Beams of sunlight streamed down through her windows, basking her in their warm rays. Angelic symbols surrounded her—from the finest of statues, to the simplest of wood carvings, all depicting the holy symbols of the Nine. Even the air was sweet and rich with the potent smell of garlic.

Rarity stood nearby in the door to the main hall, a peevish expression on her face. “Lydia, I want you to know that I’m not mad, but I think you’re being awfully selfish.”

“Thane!” the door to Rarity’s house flew open, the town blacksmith rushing in. “A dragon is attacking!”

Rarity slowly lifted her head to see her visitor, and after a moment, turned back to her magazine. It was the most recent Fantasy Interior Decorator Monthly, its cover displaying a tasteful article about Dwarven Sentinel Core lamps. “Yes,” she said. “Because there are so many dragon corpses piled up outside the gates it’s starting to impede merchant traffic, but this one? This fine young buck could be the one to finally do it.”

The blacksmith hesitated, looking uncertainly between Rarity and the door. Her horn glowed, and she turned the page.

“I’ll get right on that,” she said.

“Mmmm. What do you think, Calder?” Rarity held up the sparkling dress before her. It was a soft blue, made of a translucent, silky fabric that rustled in the slightest breeze. Its sparkle came from within the material itself, like tiny gemstones had been washed into the threads. It was obviously intended for a mare of a slight build, with a short frill at the base that expanded into an open skirt.

“I’m not sure,” Calder said. “I think it’s trying a bit too hard.” Calder was a simple pony—a nord with a strong build and a square muzzle, his fiery red mane matched by his distinctive sideburns. Though he wore heavy plate, his cutie mark was visible, and it showed a hammer and a hearth, befitting his role as Rarity’s follower and housecarl. His voice was deep and scratchy, and if he had any care to sing he could have made mares swoon. But he didn’t care for much outside of his duties, and simply stood there patiently as Rarity resorted her entire wardrobe.

“Mmm, maybe you’re right.” Rarity held the dress against her side experimentally. “Yes. Definitly trying too hard. Oh well.” She handed the dress off to Calder and then turned back to her dresser. “I suppose I could wear something a little more functional. Normally light armor would be absolutely gauche, but it could do to remind people I’m a warrior, not just...”

Rarity fell silent as she turned back to her housecarl, finding the big, blocky stallion stuffed into the tiny dress. The fabric strained around his shoulders, torn in places, and the alluring skirt fanned out sharply around his waist. Being stretched only made the fabric clearer, until it was less a clear color and more a mesh over his dark red coat.

For a time, the two stared at eachother.

“You gave me clothing that was higher quality than the clothing I was wearing before,” he explained.

Rarity bit her lip, and quietly decided he could keep it.