Very late evening
The Dreamscape

Rarity stared at her doppelganger in shock. Other than the braid and the bridle, the pony across the table was an exact duplicate of her. “To date,” Rarity said, “I have been snared, chased, fought, molested, lassoed, whipped, bridled, harnessed, shocked, chained, drugged and leashed. I have been through all that, only to face an evil duplicate of myself in my own dreams. I cannot think of a worse, possible, thing.”

“Oh please, darling,” replied the duplicate, Valiente, ”there is no need to be so dramatic for me. I’m not someone you need to impress or wheedle something out of.”

“Really,” said Rarity, cocking an eyebrow. “How could you not be anything other than some sort of creation of that evil thing locked about my head?”

“Dear, what is our cutie mark?” asked Valiente.

“Three blue diamonds,” replied Rarity automatically, then thought for a moment. “Wait, are you saying that you’re a facet?”

“Exactly,” said Valiente, “just as a diamond needs many facets to shine brightly so too do we. I am the facet of you, well us, that is concerned with doing things for others that involve desire, pleasure, and sex. You know, the important things in life.

Rarity snorted, “Next thing I know, you will be telling me that on some level I want to submit to all this, you diabolical doppelganger.”

“Dear, I’m a part of you. I’ve seen the reading material we have in the night table by the bed,” replied Valiente. “Blazing Saddles, Bridled Passion, even that incredibly trashy Fifty Shades of Hay.”

“You are going to have to better than that to convince me that you’re some part of me. Particularly some sort of sexually submissive part of me. I don’t have a submissive bone in my body!” Rarity declared hotly.

“I never said anything about submission dear, you did, but that is a good part of what I am as well,” Valiente replied. “And just to convince you that I am a facet of you, how about I trot out a few examples in that area.”

“Like what?” Rarity demanded.

“Like the dozens of times you’ve ‘accidentally’ tangled your fore hooves in your own measuring tape and then spent minutes tugging at it instead of just pulling it off. Like how within minutes of meeting Twilight Sparkle, you had her saddled and then corseted. Like when Spike came to rescue you from the Diamond Dogs a few years back he charged in riding Twilight,” Valiente provided. “A Twilight that he had bridled and was holding the reins of. You remember that flash of jealousy when you saw that? That brief flash of you wearing that bridle with Spike riding you instead of Twilight, moving you to his will by the pressure of his knees or a tug on the reins. Shall I go on?”

“All right, those things all did happen,” admitted Rarity as she felt her face heat, “but you can’t tell me that I want what’s happening now. That I want to be some sort of...some sort of sex slave.”

“Of course not, dear,” said Valiente in a comforting tone. “You are a determined, driven mare. You control a growing fashion empire. But every so often you do want somepony to take control. Somepony to make all the decisions. To take control of you and just let you feel, without consequence or control.”

Rarity took this in and thought for a minute. It made sense. Sometimes, she had felt the temptation to have someone else, at least for a short time, take control and make all the decisions, so she could just indulge herself in sensation. No one else knew all the things this part of her had spoken of. Rarity made up her mind.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” said Rarity, “but if you’re a facet what does that make me?”

“That should be obvious,” replied Valiente. “You are the conscious mind, the intellect, the primary facet, as it were.”

“Well, this facet can’t be in too good of shape if she’s having conversations with herself,” said Rarity.

“Normally, you wouldn’t. You couldn’t, but obviously something has changed,” said Valiente, getting up from the table and tapping the bridle around her head with one hoof.

“The Tartarus damned bridle,” growled Rarity.

“The bridle,” Valiente confirmed. “Every time it triggers it makes me stronger and you weaker. You’re a lapidary along with everything else. Where does the facet concept take you?” Valiente prompted.

Rarity got up from the table as well and began pacing, unconsciously mirroring Valiente on the opposite side of the table. “When you cut a diamond, the first facet, the primary facet, is the most important. All the other facets are related to it and are based off of it,” said Rarity.

“Keep going,” said Valiente. Rarity nodded and considered her thoughts.

“But sometimes, you have to change the primary facet mid-cut,” Rarity continued. “When you do that you end up changing the whole diamond because everything is based off that primary facet. Sweet Celestia,” Rarity exclaimed, “that’s it!”

“You are the intellect, darling,” said Valiente, “spell it out for me.”

“They are trying to change the primary facet of, well, us,” said Rarity. “So that everything I am, is based off the desire to be submissive and controlled and feeling good about being submissive and controlled. To want it. To need it.”

“On the nose dear, and the tool they are using to cut their new facet is our name and how our name defines us. That is the blade they are using and the bridle, is the hammer driving it,” said Valiente. “To demonstrate, be a dear and say your name for me.”

“What? Um, Val-..Rarity, my name is Rarity,” stumbled Rarity as she breathed a sigh of relief at not getting shocked. At least not by her own thoughts.

“See what I mean? It’s becoming harder for you to think of yourself as Rarity,” commented Valiente. “In awhile you are going to stop trying to be Rarity and when that happens I will become the primary facet of us.”

Valiente walked up beside the steel cage that sat just inside the light and began running a hoof along its top. “Come and take a look at this,” she said to Rarity. Rarity approached to take a good look at the cage, from a few safe feet away. Too many horror stories had parts where the bad pony said, “Take a look at this.” Just before shoving the heroine into some dire peril as she bent to look at whatever the diversion was.

The cage was made of steel. Just high enough that a pony could stand inside without hitting their head. There was a soft pad on its floor, which was both long and wide enough for a pony to lay down on. From each corner extended a length of silver chain that terminated in an open, delicately engraved, hoof cuff. From the top also dangled a silver chain, this one ending in a silver collar and of a size that would wrap snugly around either of their throats.

“What is this cage for, Valiente?” asked Rarity warily.

“This?” Valiente replied, “This is where I sit, caged and chained, and watch the world go by from behind your eyes.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” apologized Rarity, “I had no idea.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” replied Valiente. “This is where I’m supposed to be. The cage keeps me safe from danger. The cuffs and chains keep me from hurting myself if I thrash around.”

“But you aren’t in the cage right now,” said Rarity.

“No, I’m not and if things keep going the way they are, this cage is going to become your home and you will lie here watching the world go by from behind my eyes, instead of the other way around,” Valiente looked over her shoulder at Rarity with sad eyes. “I wouldn’t like that. I don’t want to be in charge so I would have to let others be in charge of me.”

“Raarg,” said Rarity.

“Raarg, at first. Then anyone he chose to give us over to. It would be a paradise for me. Nothing to do but what I am told to do. No worries, no fears. Just the satisfaction of pleasing my Master or Mistress, in all things,” added Valiente.

“A paradise for you but a nightmare for me. I would like to think I would be screaming from inside that cage. Still fighting, even then,” Rarity said, with some fear in her voice.

“Then unless you want that to happen you need to change something,” said Valiente. “Resist harder, find some way to lessen the effects, find some allies or make some friends because otherwise this cage is going to become your ‘forever home’.”

The light above began to dim.

“What...What’s happening?” asked Rarity with a quaver in her voice.

“I do believe that you are waking up,” said Valiente who then proceeded to back herself into the cage. “Be a dear, and close the cage door for me.” Rarity did so and the lock on it snapped shut by itself. Moving of their own accord, the cuffs and collar latched onto their targets. Securely restraining Valiente in their grasp as she sighed in satisfaction. As the light began to go out completely Rarity heard Valiente speak once more.

“If you do manage to get us out of this in one piece, do me a favour? Find someone you trust and bring me out to play once in awhile with them. I think both of us would enjoy that.”

Near Midnight
The Badlands
Rarity’s holding pen

Rarity awoke with a sudden upright jerk of her head. The...dream? Had been entirely too real, too vivid. Had she really just had conversation with a part of her own personality? Dream or internal conversation, the mare in her mind had been right about one thing. The dogs were changing her as surely as dye slowly creeping across a piece of fabric. Speaking of which, some of Raarg’s pack were clustered around her in sleep. Their steady deep breathing making a soothing rhythm and the warm, furry bodies pressed up against her combining to make a natural soporific.

Which was banished by an icy realization. There was no lead line attached to her bridle! The lead, her leash, had been a companion almost as constant as the bridle itself during her captivity. Looking over to one side of the pen she could see it’s links gleaming in the moonlight. One end was indeed locked to the wall of the pen, but the other had not been attached as usual to her bridle. Rarity began to move very, very carefully. She had an opportunity here. A possible chance to make a run for it.

“Step one,” she thought to herself, “make sure there truly is nothing holding me here.” Rarity slowly began to examine herself, from muzzle to skirt. The bridle was there but not attached to anything. Her mane had indeed been braided in her sleep. Quite intricately too, with ribbons woven into the braid. She spent a moment checking the braids and the ribbons. Not attached to anything other than her. Good. Next, legs. No hobbles or cuffs. No chains, ropes or strings. Body, also clear. No harness. She could, in fact, see it hanging on a peg on the wall. Looking to her tail she saw it had also been brushed and braided. A wide ribbon had been wrapped around the dock and the ribbon’s length had woven into the braiding of her skirt hairs. Whatever Raarg had put in her food must have been really strong for her not to have woken for any of that.

“Step two,” she thought, “stand up without disturbing any of the dogs around me.” Slowly, with painstaking care, Rarity drew in one limb, then another until all four of her legs were tucked beneath her. One of the larger dogs, Chopper she thought his name was, stirred in his sleep. Rarity froze until the dog’s breathing settled back into the steady rhythm of sleep. Then she rose to her full height.

“Step three, exit the pen without waking the dogs,” went through her head as picked her way across the pen to its gate. Every step placed as softly and with as much care as possible. She reached the gate. She pushed it slightly, it hadn’t been latched or locked. Rarity began to push the gate open. It creaked. Heart in her throat, she looked back at the pile of sleeping dogs.

Only to see Growf, the youngest and smallest of the pack, looking right back at her. Rarity’s throat closed up. She couldn’t breath, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Despair began to claim her as she realized her escape attempt was over almost before it had begun. And then Growf raised a paw to his lips in the universal gesture of “shh”. As Rarity’s eyes widened in amazed shock, Growf then opened his paw and revealed the lock which usually secured the lead to her bridle. The metal of it’s open shackle gleaming in the moonlight. He locked eyes with Rarity for a moment, nodded and then lay his head back down and closed his eyes.

As Rarity’s breathing returned to normal a vast warmth of gratitude filled her heart. She had an ally, or at least a friend. Little Growf was too small to fight for her but he had done what he could to give her a chance and she would make the most of it. Still moving carefully she eased her way through the gate and into the training area.

The first thing she looked for was a blanket or something similar. With her colouration the moonlight would gleam off her like a beacon if she didn’t cover herself. There was indeed a blanket hanging over a fence rail of the training area. Rarity grabbed it in her mouth and flipped the blanket over her withers. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. Looking around she could see that most of the camp was asleep. Other than a few campfires the only light was that of the gibbous moon overhead.

The encampment itself was set up against a cliff wall to form a natural defence with a gated palisade enclosing an area about half the size of Ponyville. Rarity began moving past tents and other structures, keeping to the shadows wherever she could, looking for anything that might help her. After about five minutes, she found herself looking at closed gates of the palisade wall. There were two dogs keeping guard under the light of several torches. Hidden in the shadow of what seemed to be a supply building she carefully looked for any way through the gate or past the guards.

Which is why she did not notice the dog who had snuck up on her until he clamped a paw down around her muzzle. Clamping her mouth closed and limiting the air she could draw through her nose. Rarity immediately tried to rear up but the dog wrapped his other paw into the braids of her mane and held on, using the ribbon woven braids as impromptu reins.

“Whoa now,” the dog hissed, “Just ease up there little lady. All ah want to do is talk.” Another ally perhaps? Rarity decided discretion might be valued here so she stilled herself and nodded to the dog.

“Thank you kindly,” said the dog, as he released her muzzle and then her braids. Rarity took a step back and took a look at the dog. She was reminded strongly of Raarg. Similar face and build but this dog had a deep black coat in contrast to Raarg’s brown. “If you’ll come with me, Ah’d like to have a chat with you by me and my boys fire.”

“And just why would I do that?” Rarity asked at the same low volume that the dog was using, “instead of bucking you in the face and running for it, that is.”

“Because ma’am, ah can promise you at least a few hours as a pony and not an animal in training,” the dog said, in that same voice that reminded her strongly of Applejack. “Plus, there is no real way you would have gotten out of the compound. Now, let me pass this rope through your bridle to keep up appearances in case we get spotted,” the dog said holding up a length of rope.

“I don’t know who you are, but you can’t possibly think I’m that gullible. I thought this bridle was supposed to make me submissive, not stupid,” said Rarity in a voice that could have etched steel.

“Name’s Long Strider and Ah swear to you by Luna and Her moon that the only place we will go is the fire where me and my boys are set up,” said the dog sincerely.

Rarity pondered Long Strider’s words and remembered what she knew of how some of the dogs worshiped the Princess of the Night. “Very well, in Luna’s name, I accept your pledge. Lead on,” lifting her head.

Long Strider threaded the doubled rope through a strap of the bridle and then back through itself, forming a crude lead. “If you’ll come this way Ma’am,” he invited as he began to lead Rarity through the encampment.

“Well, if this is another trap, at least it’s a well mannered one,” thought Rarity as they walked. Aloud she said, “Your voice reminds a great deal of one of my best friends.”

“Up until a few months ago Ah was part of the regular trade with Appleoosa. Ah guess the accent kinda grew on me,” explained Long Strider, shrugging. “Just around this corner Ma’am.” They rounded the corner and into the circle of firelight coming from a small campfire. Around it were a half dozen dogs, all surprisingly alert considering the late hour. All of them looking up with some surprise toward Long Strider and Rarity, in tow, as they came up

“Well boys, look who Ah found wandering around. Make a hole for the lady, and someone get her a cup of coffee,” Long Strider said with a hint of command. A place was quickly made for Rarity among the spots by the fire and as Long Strider removed the rope from the bridle he gestured toward the place by the fire. Rarity sat and was almost immediately passed a mug of coffee. She took a sip out of politeness. The coffee was hot, but brewed incredibly strong and was so sweet it was almost like drinking a candy bar. Pinkie would have loved it. As she grimaced she could hear a round of chuckles go around the fire at her reaction.

“Night fighter coffee. Keeps you alert and awake,” said Long Strider among the chuckles.

“Tea is really more my drink of choice,” said Rarity holding the mug for its warmth more than it’s contents. “Long Strider, while I am grateful for your treating me like a pony and not a thing, I have to ask why.”

“Well Ma’am, it’s like this. Ah need your help making a decision,” said Long Strider, who had begun staring into the flames of the fire.

“What sort of decision?” asked Rarity.

“The important kind. Something me and my boys have been working on like an old bone for awhile now,” said Long Strider. “Lemme ask you a question, first. How well do you know, Her?” His voice capitalized the pronoun.

”Her?” asked Rarity, “You mean Princess Luna? I count it an honour that she thinks of me as one of her friends. May I ask you a question?

“Seems only fair, go ahead,” said Long Strider.

“Other than you, Raarg and your commander, I have yet to hear any real talk by the other dogs. And the three of you seem to have a far greater command of speech than the three dogs I ran into outside of Ponyville a few years ago. Why is that?” Rarity asked.

“About three years back our Alpha had old crystals from the war set up all around in Doge City and the other settlements. They were originally meant to make our fighters better and stronger but spread out as they were they made everyone a little healthier and gave about one in ten or so of us a kind of boost. We’re smarter and we can talk better. And being able to do so is an automatic bump to a leadership position,” answered Long Strider, “Mah turn. If She is your friend, will She come for you?”

“I don’t honestly know. Luna is a mare of action. But Celestia prefers negotiation and would probably forbid Luna from coming for me. It comes down to whether or not Luna would be willing to either go directly against her sister or behind her back,” Rarity answered.

“Raarg keeps saying that you dogs have to do...these things to me, to save lives. I think I deserve an explanation,” said Rarity.

“You do,” Long Strider took a breath and plunged in, “A little less than two years ago it started. Some call it ‘Blight’. Others, ‘The Curse’. Basically, we and the Badlands are both dying,” explained Long Strider. “Pups are born weak, water sources are drying or fouling, old dogs are dying before their time, game Is growing scarce, crops fail, and madness strikes at random. The Alpha and the High Pack have been spending fortunes on food, water, medicine. We hired Changeling magic experts, Dragon gem advisors, Griffon scouts. No expense spared. Last year we ran out of funds. So, the Changelings alone let us buy on credit. Six months ago they demanded payment. It was either find a way to pay, become a Changeling colony or die. You and the four before you, are how we’ve been raising the funds to pay. Ponies are valuable,” finished Long Strider. “So, how are you holding up so far?”

“Raarg can have my free will when he pries it from my cold, dead hooves. In other words, I’m hanging on,” said Rarity.

“Ya, Ah kinda figured that,” answered Long Strider who sipped at his coffee but said nothing further. As the silence stretched into minutes Rarity kept the silence and tried some more of the vile concoction in her mug and though the taste was vile it both warmed and energized her. On the far side of the fire one of the other dogs pulled out an actual small guitar and began picking out an odd tune. The dog began to softly yowl an accompaniment to the guitar and together the sounds made an oddly melancholy music.

Rarity nudged Long Strider, “What is he singing? I don’t recognize the music.”

Long Strider pulled his attention away from the flames, “Oh, Ah’d be surprised if you did. Grarf comes from an old Chewish family. Raarg’s Growf is his brother. Anyway, he’s singin’ one of the old hymns in Yippish. Ah’ll try to translate it straight for you. It’s called ‘Hymn to the Nightmare’.”

If Ah see her again, Ah must die or kill
In the bleak, dark woods or the stone-ringed hills
When the year wears down and the trees are bare
In the form of an upright, white-fanged mare
For where she appears death is on the air
And someone in sight must die.

Do you see her again, in the dark and cold
The blue black mare, with her grim eyed foals
With her high roan staff and her white skull globe
With her ebon crown and her storm cloud robe
With her dead white eyes that no light can probe
And more than a few must die

We will see her again and the earth shall cry
When the hills fall down and the seas runs high
She will strike her hoof on the earth quake fault
With her six limbs bared to the heaven’s vault
She will dance in flame ‘til the stars cry halt
And all but a few, shall die

.

“You dogs have such an odd way of worshiping Luna. It’s like you both fear and adore her,” said Rarity.

“That’s about as good a way to put it as any,” confirmed Long Strider, “We love Her, we love Her moon. She lights our way in the dark of night, and guides our shades to their final rest. But She is also darkness, and vengeance and the fury of battle. And She is redemption, forgiveness and the understander of necessity.” Sudden, terrible pain came into Long Strider’s voice as it dropped to a whisper, “Ah can only hope She has enough understanding to give a monster like me a clean death when She finally catches up to me.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Rarity in a quiet gasp. “You’ve gone out of your way and probably gotten yourself in trouble to give me this respite. You’ve likely undone half of what Raarg has put me through just by treating me as a pony for a couple of hours. How can you say you’re a monster?”

“Because Ah killed a pony,” said Long Strider in a sick voice. “No, Ah did worse than kill him. Ah killed his spirit. Ah twisted what he was into what my commanders wanted.” Rarity leaned back in shock as Long Strider continued, “His name was Side Slip, a pegasus weather pony. Ah was assigned to, to break him. Every day he would smile, crack a bad dirty joke, and then take everything we threw at him and toss it back with a smile and another bad joke.”

“Like, ‘Why don’t mares write comic books? Because mares have too much plot.’,” he snickered alone into the silence. Rarity could feel the other dogs of Long Strider’s pack offering what silent comfort they could. She could see it in the way they were watching their leader. The same way Fluttershy would often watch over a suffering animal she had already done her best for. Reflected pain in their eyes as they knew someone they cared about was hurting but not knowing how to make it better.

“Then one morning, the light was gone from his eyes. Ah’d killed Side Slip. Ah’d killed mah, mah,” Long Strider suddenly sobbed, tears flowing from his eyes,”...friend and put Aerius in his place.” He stood angrily and looked at Rarity. His burning eyes were filled with tears and self-loathing. “Ah’m a monster and Ah, hell, this whole camp, we’re all monsters. We need to be put down like the mad dogs we are.”

Rarity touched Long Strider’s side with a gentle hoof, “There is no darkness so deep that the light cannot touch it. No one is beyond redemption if they are willing to reach for it. Luna herself fell to darkness and became Nightmare Moon. She was redeemed by the light of Friendship and later, by her efforts of atonement and redemption.”

The wild hope of a drowning pony suddenly thrown a lifeline flared in Long Strider’s eyes,”You really mean that Ma’am? You really think that monsters like me and my boys have any hope of redemption?”

“I do,” said Rarity sincerely, “if you are willing to reach for it.”

Long Strider sniffed and scrubbed a paw across his eyes looking to the ring of dogs who had gathered around the fire, “Boys, we done talked about this before. About the wrong we done. About what we’d do if we had a chance to make it right. This lady says we have a chance of being able to live with ourselves if we are willing to reach for it. So, if you’re with me, we go with Plan ‘R’ in three days time.” He looked around at the other six dogs gathered around the fire. Each in turn nodded or quietly yipped their assent.

“Ah’ve never been prouder of you boys. Even if we fail, at least this lets us die like dogs and not live as curs,” Long Strider said and turned his head toward Rarity who felt hope flare and grow within her own breast. “Ma’am, ‘R’ is for run. In three days time my boys have gate duty and we are gonna use it to run you to the border or die tryin’.”

Author's Note

The song lyrics are adapted from "Hymn to the Nightmare" by Leslie Fish, copyright 1986.

So, there is hope yet for our heroine even as her mind begins to seemingly fracture under the strain. Can Rarity hold to her identity? Can Long Strider fulfill his pledge to get Rarity clear? Will Raarg help or will he continue to follow his orders? And what of the Princesses? Will they act?

The story is outlined from this point on and I will do my best to get chapters out with all due speed.