Strange Alchemy

Fyr’mond’s body shook rhythmically against the sheets of Ward Kelley’s bed. She watched as her sandy gray rear hooves moved back and forth with each of Ward’s thrusts. He groaned as he pushed into her again and again, and Fyr’mond felt herself moaning as her heart began to pound faster.

She lifted up her forlegs and tried to wrap them around him, to embrace him as they made love- -but instead, he pushed her down against the surface of the bed, holding her shoulders and dominating her instead. He closed his eyes and cried out as he pushed forward and suddenly stopped. Fyr’mond gasped as she felt the surge of warmth as he finished deep within her body.

Ward gasped for a moment, catching his breath, and then withdrew from Fyr’mond, leaving her empty and unfinished. He flopped over beside her, propping himself against the pillows of his bed. Though Fyr’mond was now taller than he was, she curled her body against his, putting her forehead against his side.

She wanted to reach out, to connect to him, and to be as close to him as possible. Inside, she felt afraid and sad. She knew that what she had done was wrong, that she had not been meant for him. She had married Dee, and been meant for him. Dee had been expelled from the court, but Fyr’mond still loved him. Instead of being at his side in this time of need, she was giving herself to his rival. She could not help but feel that she had betrayed him.

“You’re thinking about your husband,” said Ward, putting his left foreleg around Fyr’mond and holding her naked and sweating body close to his. “Do not worry, my princess. I have spoken to my angel, and he says that you have not betrayed him. Our union is permitted by the gods, and was ordained in the distant past to occur.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about it,” said Fyr’mond.

“Did he ever once attempt to lay with you?”

“No,” whispered Fyr’mond. “He never did…” But there was perhaps more reason for it than she had thought. In her ignorance, she had blamed herself for being too ugly, too fat, too stupid- -but with her magic, she had seen what Dee’s nature was, what his body had suffered beneath his gruff exterior. She had not seen the blindness in his eye, but there was so much more she had missed as well. How the magic of raising the sun and moon had shredded his insides, or how the legs on his right side were nearly non-functional, afflicted by a progressive disease that he could slow but not cure. She had forgotten that he was an old stallion, that lovemaking might be painful for him, or even impossible in his advanced age.

“My princess,” said Ward, putting his hoof on Fyr’mond’s chin and lifting her sight to his own. “You have done nothing wrong. We have done nothing wrong.”

“I know,” she said, holding him tighter. “I know.”
` “We are ponies that share the same goal. We share a dream. It only makes sense that we share our bodies.”

“That dream...when will we begin?”

Ward’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Begin what?”

“To make the world a better place. To cure the disease, and end the famine. My power is getting stronger every day. Please, Ward. Let me help you on your divine mission.”

Ward smiled, and stroked Fyr’mond’s rapidly graying mane. “My princess...I must first fulfill my obligations to your father. Raising a demonic army will not be easy. It will consume much of my power, and my time.”

“But that isn’t what you wanted…”

“Isn’t it? With an army of demons at my command, would not our soldiers no longer need to die? They would not be put in any danger, would they?”

“No,” admitted Fyr’mond. “But the other side…”

“Could always surrender. Fyr’mond, recall, this is your father’s will.”

“I know…”

Ward sighed, and looked up at the ceiling. “Of course…no…”

“What?”

“I do not want to burden you with it.”

“Please,” said Fyr’mond, crawling up Ward’s body. “We will serve Equestria together. Let me share the burden with you.”

Ward smiled. “I truly do love you, princess. But I am afraid that this problem will break your heart.”

“My heart is harder than you know.”

Ward looked down at her, his eyes meeting hers for a long moment. “The problem is your husband.”

“My…” Fyr’mond could not say the word, not while she was lying beside another stallion and filled with his seed. “Dee…he is no longer Magus. You are.”

“In the eyes of Third Horn, yes,” said Ward, “but the problem is that the royal court is not as absolute as you would think.”

“But my father’s word is law.”

“Not to nobility. Nyar was listening. Many of the nobility share your husband’s thoughts and ideals. They detest him, but they would sooner die than give the title of Magus to an earth pony. Hyemale, the patriarch of the Polish Cartel, has already expressed a desire to provide patronage to Dee.”

Fyr’mond felt her breath catch. She may not have known much about the world, but she knew the nobility. The Polish Cartel were a merchant group whose fortune came from the growing of a certain plant used to produce polish. They were one of the most deadly groups in Equestria.

The nobility, as Fyr’mond well knew, were not bound by normal rules or laws. Their world was messy and violent, with assassinations and subterfuge being commonplace. Little of that reached as high as the royal family, but knowledge of it was commonplace.

“I am afraid they will not accept me,” said Ward. “They will not take me as Magus. Even with Third Horn’s declaration, Dee is still my rival. As long as he lives, my life is in danger.”

“No! They wouldn’t! I…I won’t let them! I will protect you!”

“I’m afraid you cannot, my princess. They simply do not see the world as you do, where the two races of ponies might be equal.”

“But what…what can we do?”

Ward raised his right hoof, and the marks glowed. The region around the bed suddenly shifted, and Fyr’mond held him closer as a number of spiny tentacles rose around the border, seeping out from some terrible and unseen source.

“There can only be one Magus,” said Ward. “And that Magus shall be me.”

One of the tentacles shifted forward, and Ward took a glass from its grasp. He swirled the orange liquid, and Fyr’mond could smell the scent of freshly pressed carrot juice. Ward drained the glass, and slid his free hoof between Fyr’mond’s legs, rubbing it against one of her mammates.

“You know what we have to do.”

Fyr’mond closed her eyes, and buried herself in Ward’s coat, hoping that he would not see the tears she was shedding. “Yes,” she said. “Yes…I do…”