The Lightbringerby LightArcanistChaptersRarity and the DawnNightmare-Carving MurmurSpurious PresenceRarity and the DawnThe moon hovered high in the dark night sky, a bright light surrounded by the distant twinkling of numerous stars. The Carousel Boutique’s sign swung lazily in the cool evening breeze, a rhythmic creak filling the silence of the night. Inside Rarity peacefully slept, nestled deep into her silk bed sheets. Her dreams were filled with fashion and fame. Finally, she was being recognized for her brilliance. Thump There was a loud noise like somepony had dropped their luggage on the floor. Rarity rolled over in her comforter and sighed contently, her mind slowly waking up. Subconsciously her ears rotated, listening for the sound to repeat. Must have been Opal jumping off of the counter. Just go back to sleep dear, she thought, wanting nothing more than to get back to her dream. “Damn this bites!” cursed a male voice in a pained whisper. Rarity’s eyes shot open, adrenaline coursing through her system. Somepony was in her boutique. Why was somepony in her boutique? Were they thieves? Or foal nappers? She swallowed a lump in her throat and pushed her thoughts aside. She had been reading too many novels lately, she decided. The only way to find an answer was to see for herself. With as much stealth as she could manage she slipped out of her bed and levitated the first heavy object, she could find to her side, a deep green gemstone about the size of a hoof. Her blue aura cast pale shadows across her bedroom. She then started creeping out of her bedroom. Every step more stressful than the last with her hooves making a light tapping sound on the hardwood. She listened intently as she crept down the stairwell. She could hear somepony shuffling around, their hooves noisily clacking as they moved about. “They always make this look so easy…!” the voice grunted rhythmically, like somepony trying to pull something that was almost too heavy. Thief! She knew it! Somepony was trying to steal one of her masterpieces! Likely to sell it on a black market for dresses! Sneak into her home and steal her hard work will he!? She’d give him a piece of her mind! With a burst of speed, Rarity raced down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Her eyes scanned the room as she hit the bottom of the stairs. The moonlight poured in from the display windows set into the front of her boutique, illuminating the outline of a figure. With a push of her legs she ran towards the intruder, lifted the gemstone high into the air, and then brought it down on the thief’s head with a resounding thwack. The thief’s body gave out under the force of the blow and he crumpled into a heap. The gemstone dropped from her telekinetic grip and clattered across the floor, refracting silver moonbeams around the showroom. Rarity’s heart was pounding in her chest, the adrenaline of the situation forcing it to pound against her ribcage. Fight or Flight slowly gave way to conscious thought as she took control of her breathing. She took a hesitant step towards the stallion. Her hoof landed on something warm and sticky, causing her to recoil in surprise. She lifted her hoof to inspect the bottom, but couldn’t discern anything in the moonlight. Rarity turned on the lights with her magic, the sudden change in brightness caused her to blink as her eyes adjusted. When she could see again the sight before her was far different from what she had expected. The floor of the boutique had blood dripped everywhere, most of it centered about where the thief lay unconscious. Most bizarre was what else she found around him. She had expected one of her dresses, or even some comical bag of loot complete with a money sign on the outside. Instead, she only found a curious collection of sewing supplies. Needles of various sizes and thread of differing weights were scattered around his hooves. Why would anypony steal sewing supplies? Unless... Gingerly she took the stallion in her magic and rolled him onto his side. A large gash ran along most of the length of his barrel and was slowly weeping blood onto her bare floor. She began to notice other injuries. A cut here, a scratch there. Most of his body was covered in bruises. It was like he had been tossed down a flight of stairs. She could even see the dark purples of a new bruise forming beneath the faint blue fur on his muzzle. She had caused that one. Oh no no no. What did she do? He was just hurt and trying to fix himself up and what did she do! She just… just… assaulted him! Like some base ruffian! He wasn’t moving, was he even still alive!? Urgently she moved to the stallion’s front and brought her ears by his muzzle. She held baited breath as she listened. After what felt like ages he finally exhaled. Yes! He was still alive! Rarity raised her head and looked towards the ceiling, thanking some unnamed deity that she hadn’t accidentally caused the stallion’s demise. She turned to run for her medical kit. She needed to get his injuries wrapped up and take him to the hospital! Her thoughts were cut short, however. A hoof suddenly shot up and grabbed her by her throat before she could move away. The grip tightened, cutting her breath short before she was quickly slammed down onto her back. A muffled yelp of pain managed to squeeze past the grip on her throat, but that was it. For a moment she was too shocked and afraid to do much of anything but sit there and stare blankly. Some part of her mind realized she’d really be feeling that one in the morning. The stallion towered over her with his hoof firmly on her throat. She stared at him in mute surprise. His face was contorted into a vicious look more befitting a griffin than a pony. His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts through clenched teeth; as though every inhalation hurt. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” the stallion growled, bringing his face far too close to hers. Golden eyes bored azure. It was like he could see into to her soul and was judging what he saw. His grip held firm on her throat as her face began to turn red. He took his time watching her. He tried to look angry, to appear intimidating and worthy of her fear. Instead, all she could see was just how tired he was, how obvious it was he hadn’t slept in days. There was something else too, was it fear? Rarity knew these were not the eyes of a thief or a murderer but instead the eyes of somepony who needed help. “Don’t scream.” He ordered. The intimidating facade he had been holding finally gave way to to the purest exhaustion. Suddenly he released his hold on her throat. Sweet oxygen suddenly flowed freely into her vacant lungs. She couldn’t help but find herself greedily sucking in every breath. Rarity watched the stallion as she caught her breath. She was shocked that he had tricked her so easily, surprised he had overpowered her so easily with one simple motion and left with so many questions. If he was truly a bad pony why had he just let her go? Why was he so tired? And why would he stoop to sewing himself up instead of seeking a hospital? He had already returned to his task, stitching up the still bleeding wound on his side. It almost seemed like he wasn’t aware of how much he was bleeding, or that he was doing it all over her once clean floor. “I just need to patch myself up, then I’ll go.” He grunted as he sewed his injury up with the needle. To Rarity’s eyes, it was obvious the Stallion had never used a needle and thread before. She doubted his work would last five minutes, let alone a night of bed rest. “Darling, you’re hurt. We need to get you to the hospital.” “No!” he barked, turning to look Rarity in the eye. “I’m not going to any hospital!” “Look at yourself!” Rarity demanded, pointing first at him and then at the blood that pooled around his hooves. “You are bleeding all over my boutique. Until today I didn’t even know a pony could lose this much blood,” She shuddered a little at the thought. The look in the stallion’s eyes hardened, telling her everything she needed to know. The only way he was going to a hospital was if she knocked him out and dragged him there herself. When she didn’t continue talking he turned his attention from her back to his injury, hissing at the sensation of sewing his own flesh shut. Rarity rolled her eyes. His sewing skills were amateur at best. None of his work would hold up for any length of time if he kept moving. That is to say nothing of infection that might occur since he wasn’t cleaning the wounds at all. She quickly grabbed the first aid kit and a bottle of alcohol from her bathroom before returning to the Stallion. A white cloth hovered in her blue aura as she poured some of the alcohol into it. “Well Darling, if you can’t go to a hospital then I guess we’ll just have to make due. Now hold still! Normally I work on dresses, not ponies.” She hoped her tone came across as both firm and kind. A pair of scissors undid all of the stallion’s hard work. The wound still needed to be cleaned after all. Wouldn’t do to let infection set in after everything that happened tonight. Every piece of thread was cut and then gingerly pulled out with her magic. The stallion seemed upset at having his work destroyed, but he remained silent. When she placed the cloth against his injury she expected a hiss of pain, or perhaps even for him to try to hit her out of instinct. Instead, he simply watched her curiously, as though he couldn’t feel the burning of the alcohol. After she became satisfied the wound was as clean as it would get, what with it still refusing to stop bleeding, she levitated a small needle and began to look over the thread he had collected. The collection was nearly useless, all of it was much too thin to hold up to any real stress. She threaded the needle with the thickest thread the stallion had raided, it would probably be enough to hold his side shut if he wasn’t too rough on it. Her patient frowned as she sterilized the needle and thread with the alcohol. “Why are you helping me?” He asked, though his tone asked another question, “What do you expect in exchange?” “Because you look like you needed help. That is enough of a reason for me.” Rarity explained as she started sewing the Stallion’s side back up. He hissed when she began but quickly grew silent again, was he trying to put on a strong face? Rarity couldn’t be too sure. “Is everyone around here so generous?” The stallion asked incredulously. “Darling, I think you’d be hard pressed to find any pony here in Ponyville who wouldn’t help out a stranger,” She tilted her head in thought,”Though maybe some of them would be less forgiving about breaking into their homes.” She swore she saw the stallion smile at her comment before quickly returning to his stoic face. Rarity backed up to allow the stallion a chance to inspect her craftsponyship. He glanced down and gave the stitching a quizzical look before flexing his body experimentally. “Seems a bit complex, but it feels like it’ll hold. Thank you. I’ll be going now.” He stated. His tone was serious but his voice wavered like he was forcing himself to keep going. His legs strained as he walked, barely seemed capable of holding up his frame as he walked towards the front door. “You can’t walk around like this dear,” Rarity placed a hoof on his back, noticing the way he tensed up at her touch, “It’s late and you are injured. Just stay here, at least until morning.” The stallion thought for a moment before shaking his head. “You have done so much for me, I will not bother you anymore,” he stated before leaving Carousel Boutique. Nightmare-Carving MurmurThe door clicked shut and Arthur let loose a held breath. He stood on the steps of Carousel Boutique for a moment as he replayed his encounter over in his head. When she cracked him over the skull his only thought had been to kick and punch and scream; to fight. He was sure the pony’s reaction was almost the opposite. She looked guilty when he first grabbed her, like a child caught stealing a cookie. Even when he had been choking her, her eyes still looked… innocent? He wasn’t sure the proper word, but it was like she was shocked at the very concept of murder. Why did she help him? After he broke into her home no less! What was this place? Back home there would have been screaming, threatening. More than a weak bash to his head, at least. Was life really that peaceful here? Or could she tell he wasn’t going to hurt her? The whole situation sent shivers down his spine. Arthur shook the thoughts from his weary mind, finally forcing his body forward into the moonlight night. The streets of the village were still vacant when he started away from Carousel Boutique. He was too tired to gawk anymore at the primitive thatch-roofed homes; too tired to even keep track of time. The only reminders he was still awake shifted between the distinct clip-clop his hooves made and the throbbing in his side from his injury. At least the bleeding had been stopped. “Tch,” Arthur clicked his tongue as he glanced around. He was beginning to grow annoyed, his body ached like he had been in a battle and yet he couldn’t recall anything since the giant back home... A cool breeze blew through Arthur that caused him to shudder. He shoved that particular memory to the furthest reaches of his mind. His body recalled a battle his mind couldn’t. That worried him. Something about this sensation was familiar. His injury had been caused by some kind of blade, no claw would have left such a clean injury. Nor would it have sliced into his ribs as easily. “Doesn’t do me any good to think about it,” Arthur grumbled as he looked up at a signpost to verify he was going the right way. He was heading to a place he had spotted on his way into town, a humble little farm on the outskirts of town. It had too many barns for the family of four that owned it to keep track of. There were plenty of places he could hide and rest and plenty of food he could eat. Arthur’s steps grew harder as he pushed himself up the trail to the farm, Sweet Apple Acres if the sign was to be trusted. A yawn escaped his mouth as he entered the property, it wouldn’t be long now until he could finally get some sleep. He had been awake for at least two days, he wagered. It took only a few minutes for Arthur to sneak into one of the lesser maintained barns on the property and find a decent place in the loft to lay down. The loft was a good place to sleep, his ‘bed’ wasn’t easy to spot and it gave him the high ground if anyone ever came inside. Arthur laid down wIth an unceremonious flop. Tomorrow he would binge on apples. A deep groaning began to fill the barn as the wooden walls started to warp. Arthur was on his hooves in a second and quickly squared his shoulders, molding his weary body into a fighting stance. A freezing wind howled through the barn, biting at Arthur’s very core as he watched the walls bend and twist against some outside force. With a powerful kick, he jumped down from the loft and landed on the dirt floor. He wasn’t sure what was going on, some kind of tornado? Or perhaps this barn simply wasn’t as sturdy as he thought? There was a tearing sound as the roof dissolved into dust. Outside was an obsidian black night. Not a single star twinkled in the sky, and no moon hovered lovingly over its earth. It was a sky of pure nothing. What was it he read in school? Something about staring into the abyss? Arthur thought this was particularly apt when a pair of eyes opened in the sky and stared back into his. The eyes were somehow darker than the sky, like a pair of black holes that bore into his soul. A chill ran through Arthur’s soul as a single realization flickered to the front of his mind. It had found him. “No… No!” Arthur shouted, wanting to deny what his own eyes saw. The subtle glow of power filled the barn and like rays of sunlight they cast long shadows onto the environment. The brilliant golden rays shone over the featureless form of the creature, once again searing it’s visage into Arthur’s mind. A behemoth, easily forty feet in height towered over the barn. Its flesh was as non-existent as its eyes, only a blurry visage of nothingness where air and light should be. There was a scream; deep and throaty, it was a noise that only a mind fully subsumed in a primal rage could unleash. The not-shape lifted it’s hand and reached into the barn. Arthur’s body tensed in response, his back hooves shifted as he raised his front legs to meet the hand, to block the impending attack bodily. With a simple motion it flicked Arthur into the far wall of the barn. Wood splintered as farming implements rattled around his body. His ears rang from the tinny sound of the tools and the screaming. Slowly he came to realize that he was the one screaming, but now it wasn’t powered by anything as predictable as rage. Now pure terror filled his mind. Arthur’s limbs moved in an uncoordinated mess as he ran for the door to the barn. He had to leave. He couldn’t handle this being, this monster. Last time he had fought it he had died. Last time he wasn’t strong enough to save anyone. Why would this time be any different? The barn doors snapped against their hinges as Arthur ran into the asphalt streets of downtown Anchorage. Everything was destroyed. Thick chunks of the road were missing from explosions while long divots showed where something had stood its ground. Storefronts and apartment buildings sagged on broken supports. Vehicles were overturned and strewn throughout the streets, he could see one dangling from the third floor of a building he passed under. A booming sound followed him; footprints, his panicked mind realized. His hooves stung as he skidded around the corner. Arthur stumbled and fell after taking the corner too hard. He could feel a painful snap in his shoulder when he landed. He wasn’t sure if he had broken or dislocated his right arm, foreleg, whatever. He just knew he couldn’t get the limb to do anything anymore. With a groan, he pushed himself back to his remaining three good hooves. A booming stomp from behind only drove him forward faster. Something struck him from behind and sent him flying down the street. A searing hot pain filled his chest, as though someone had decided to melt steel in his chest. He tried to move, to get away but found that he couldn’t. A bloody length of rebar protruded from his chest, too slick with his own blood to pull himself off of. Something soft stirred behind him and he noticed he was sitting on a pair of human legs. Behind him, impaled on the same piece of rebar, was a man. The most notable feature, the feature that struck horror in Arthur, was the extra pair of arms the figure sported right below his normal armpits. A new wave of terror washed over Arthur as he realized who he had landed on. Himself. A fist made of cosmic nothing came crashing down onto Arthur. He winced at the impending impact. A bright flash of blue light appeared in front of Arthur. “Disperse, nightmare!” A regal female voice demanded, the tone made it obvious there was no alternative. The power of those words tore at the dream, quickly dissolving everything away into a black void until all that remained was Arthur and a new pony. “Art thou well, my little pony?” the new voice asked. The pony across from Arthur was only an inch or two shorter than him. He noted her fur was a darker shade of blue than his. The horn was new, though. The wings too. “‘Little pony?’” Arthur echoed incredulously as the fear of his mind fell away in large sheets. Who was this pony? Something his subconscious thought up to ‘protect’ him? He snorted at the thought. “Indeed, thy guardian of dreams hath returned!” She paused in speaking to catch her breath, Arthur noted. “For I am Princess Luna!” Luna made a particular dramatic flair with her wings and, as if on cue, the dust swirled close before settling into the shape of a new location. Arthur blinked. Was he dreaming? The realization came quickly as the scene changed. His breaths still came heavy from all of his screams, and his heart still shuddered with the chest still heaved and his heart shuddered as the fear finally vanished from his mind. He now found himself sitting on a stool inside of a simple trailer. Through the window, he could see the dark Alaskan night he had been raised in. The TV in the bedroom behind him was blaring coverage of a baseball game, Royals versus Giants from what he could tell. A thin layer of trash was strategically placed throughout the kitchen and adjoining living room, as though its owner was afraid of being too clean. This was one of his favorite escapes, Arthur remembered. This was his uncle’s trailer. In the blink of an eye, the princess appeared across the counter from Arthur, seated on her own stool. Her metal raiment rattled as her head shifted, taking in the alien environment. “Is this still the nightmare? Such a place seems… stifling.” Luna began before settling her gaze on Arthur. She looked at him expectantly, as though it was her birthday. Arthur only continued to stare back. That expectant look slowly melted away into indignation. Realization flashed across Arthur’s face, which seemed to make Luna happy until Arthur climbed off the stool and approached the fridge. If he noticed the shocked expression that Luna wore he didn’t show it. Even if it was just a dream he was still hungry, and if this was his dream then there was a ham and pastrami with his name on it. His bet on finding something good to eat when he woke up was slim. Luna’s face ran a gamut from curiosity, confusion, and anger before finally settling on ‘incensed’ when Arthur noisily sat on his stool with a freshly procured sandwich. He continued watching the princess as he ate the sandwich, loudly chewing each bite of the delicious meat. Luna slammed her hooves down on the counter. “How darest thou! Thy princess visits and vanquishes a nightmare and we do not even receive so much as an utterance of thanks! And now you dare mock us!?” Arthur simply shrugged, “What,-” He took a large bite of his sandwich, “- am I supposed to take you seriously?” he finished, deliberately spraying some crumbs in her direction. If this was his dream he was going to have some fun. That seemed to only add fuel to the fire. Arthur thought it was entertaining when someone couldn’t keep their anger in check. He wondered if this dream-pony-princess had a berserk button; his subconscious would give it one, right? “I am your princess! You would do well to address me as such!” “Not my princess, I voted for the other candidate!” Arthur grinned as Luna sputtered. He went to take another bite of his sandwich but found a hoof racing into his face instead. The side of the trailer warped outward as Arthur’s frame tore through the metal siding. A manic smile crossed his face as he sailed through the air, righting himself as he landed nearly forty feet away in a pile of snow. A realization came to the front of his mind. “Oh, so you can fight?” It was less a question asked of Luna and more a statement of fact. His smile only grew in size as he slipped into a low stance, preparing for a much-desired fight. He wondered what his subconscious was doing dreaming this pony princess up. Was it trying to come up with the perfect pony girlfriend? He scoffed at the idea, he wasn’t ready to give up on hands yet. He did give his subconscious some credit, she did know how to throw a punch. Luna flew over to where Arthur stood, landing just a few feet in front of him with a remorseful look on her face. Maybe if Arthur had been paying attention he would have realized she was trying to talk to him, but the only thing his mind registered was how open to attacks she was. She started to say something but Arthur never gave her the chance. Instead, a powerful roundhouse kick sent her tumbling across the snow in an undignified heap. “Come on,” Arthur clicked his tongue again as he bounced between his four hooves, “It’s no fun if you don’t try to dodge!” Luna lifted herself off of the snow and touched a hoof to her face. When she removed it she saw blood. If she had been real, Arthur was certain she’d feel that in the morning. Arthur watched from afar for a moment, waiting for her to recover. It wouldn’t be fun if he just wailed on her, at least if she wasn’t ready for it. She looked like she was thinking about something as she set herself into a stance. A grunt of effort was all the warning Arthur got as Luna launched herself forward with one beat of her powerful wings. He found himself pushed off balance as her hoof found purchase in his sternum. With a growl, Arthur found his balance and returned the attack with one of his own. The two launched blow after blow at each other with neither one able to floor the other as surely as their first attacks did. The fighting continued for several minutes as the two kicked up snow in the cold winter night. Eventually, they split apart. They sucked in deep breaths as they panted from the exertion of the fight. Arthur’s face and sides were covered in bruises, some of which had already begun to swell. Across from him, Luna looked in much better shape though she was obviously more worn out than him. Her mane, once perfectly combed, was now a tattered mess from both sweat and close calls. Her crown had disappeared somewhere in the fight. “What is thy name, sir? We wouldst know with whom we spar!” Luna called, a smile on her face that reflected Arthur’s own. He could tell she had needed a fight almost as bad as he had, it was always the best way to get his head straight after all. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but a strange noise distracted him. The sound was a deep creaking, like a well-worn hinge that was being overworked.It didn’t take long for his mind to realize someone was approaching. That and a burst of adrenaline was all it took for the dream to fade away into full wakefulness. The door to the barn was opening. Author's Note Sorry for there being such a huge gap between me releasing chapter 2. Some real life stuff happened that didn't allow for me to work on this, but I won't bore you with the details. Originally Chapter 2 was going to involve Pinkie Pie (that's why she was originally tagged) but then I realized while writing it that a lot of the chapter made no sense without any context to back it up. So expect it to be a while before I stuff Pinkie in. --- Update 12/10/16 This chapter was originally titled 'Luna and the Dawn' prior to a minor rewrite on 12/10/2016. Most of the changes were centered around changing the POV to just Arthur's POV, the chapter title change was done to reflect this. The ending scene was what was altered for this change, the old scene is left below for posterity's sake. It originally was placed when Arthur was tossed out of the trailer The side of the trailer exploded outward as Arthur’s frame hurtled through the air. A manic smile crossed his face as he landed nearly forty feet away from the trailer in a pile of snow, a realization coming to the front of his mind. “Oh, so you can fight.” The words were less a question and more a statement of fact. The grin never left his face as he rose to his feet. He wondered what his subconscious was doing dreaming this pony princess up. Was it trying to come up with the perfect pony girlfriend? He scoffed at the idea, he wasn’t ready to give up on hands yet. She did know how to throw a punch, though. Luna flew over to where Arthur stood, a remorseful look on her face. She started to say something but Arthur never gave her a chance. She instead was struck with a powerful roundhouse kick that sent her tumbling across the snow. “Come on,” Arthur clicked his tongue again as he bounced between his four hooves, “It’s no fun if you don’t try to dodge!” Luna lifted herself off of the snow and touched a hoof to her face. When she removed it she saw blood. She wasn’t sure what to think. There was a point in the past that such impudence would lead to imprisonment. Perhaps her sister was right, it appeared their ponies had changed a lot in the last thousand years. What had Celestia said? Something about treating them ponies as something closer to equals rather than subjects. A grunt of effort was all the warning the stranger got as Luna launched herself forward, her hoof finding purchase in his sternum. He barely staggered from the attack before returning with his own strike. The two launched blow after blow at each other with neither one able to do more than scratch the other. This continued for some time until they separated, both panting heavily. “What is thy name, sir? We wouldst know with whom we spar!” Luna called, a smile on her face. She rarely had the chance to practice with another pony, all of her guards were too hesitant to fight like this. The stranger opened his mouth to say something but before he could say it the dream vanished in a burst of smoke and Luna found herself sitting on her bed in Canterlot. The dream had ended. Spurious PresenceArthur’s head shot up as a creaking noise echoed in the barn. Memories drained from his head as his mind raced to take in the situation. The flame of a lantern cast long shadows throughout the barn as a pair of ponies entered; one with red fur and the other orange. Arthur pushed himself flat with the loft he occupied, watching the two through slits between the floorboards. “Alright Big Mac, let’s get everything set up. Applebuck season’s comin’ ” The orange mare said, at least he assumed she was female from her voice. There was a certain country twang to her words that Arthur couldn’t place. The red stallion, identified by the deep voice, responded with a simple ‘eyup’. Truly, a man of few words. That seemed to be the extent of their conversation. The only sounds the two made as they worked were various grunts and one-word replies to those grunts as they loaded a cart up with wooden basins. It seemed like they knew what they were doing and had been doing it for quite a while, to know each other so well. Arthur’s ears twisted as he took in the bits of conversation, hoping the pair would give him a clue as to where he was. Instead, the pair just hitched the orange pony up to the cart and she hauled it outside. Big Mac, he thought that was what Orange had called him, paused as he went to shut the barn doors behind him and glanced around the barn. There was an inquisitive look on his face, as though he thought something was out of place. When Red’s gaze passed by his hiding spot Arthur pushed his body as flush with the floor as he could. He held his breath, afraid any sound might betray his location Don’t see me... Don’t see me... His mind echoed, “Big Mac? What's tha holdup?” Orange called from outside. Red took one final glance around the barn before picking up the lantern he had entered with and leaving. Arthur didn’t raise his head until he heard the clunk of the barn doors shutting. Slowly Arthur let out his held breath and began to draw in fresh air. Red was observant, if Orange hadn’t distracted him then Arthur might have been spotted. Would have been spotted, he reminded himself. The only cover he had was a wooden floor. If Red had walked upstairs there was only one way for that to go down. Arthur listened to the fading conversation, making sure the two were actually leaving and not setting up a trap for him. He only let himself move after the voices faded away. Arthur stood up as his heart pounded in his chest and his eyes adjusted to the darkness. It wasn’t much, but some starlight filtered in through shutters fixed into the side of the barn. As he walked down the stairs he wondered what had given his presence away. Had he made noise when he woke up or…? He hadn’t bothered to cover up his hoofprints. A groan came from his mouth as he smacked himself. He hadn’t covered his trail, it was that simple. A trail, plain as day, was set into the dirt and hay floor leading right to the steps of his hiding spot. It was something so simple, so obvious, and yet he hadn’t thought of in his exhaustion. Red must have caught on while loading the cart. The revelation didn’t do much to solve his situation, though. Now that Red had spotted him it was only a matter of time until Orange caught on to him as well. That meant he had one option. Find a new place to hide. Security would tighten up and even if it meant just two ponies keeping an eye out for him, he wanted to avoid it. I need to find some food and a place to crash. Maybe a source of information too, Arthur thought as he reached one of the shutter-covered windows in the barn. He carefully opened the shutters, pleased to hear that they only made a small metallic creak as he pushed them open. The light of the moon flooded in through the open shutters, turning vague shadow forms into real objects. Arthur took one final glance around the barn he had hidden in before moving to climb out of the barn. A glint of metal caught his eye before he could leave. Resting atop a dividing wall in the barn hung a backpack, a silver buckle hung from a loose strap and reflected the moonlight. Silently he moved for the object and lifted it up. Upon closer inspection, it was a saddlebag. Or was it a set of saddlebags? Arthur shook his head, he didn’t care about the specific wording. All he knew was this was a godsend; Something that’d let him store the supplies he desperately needed to survive. Arthur tossed the saddlebags onto his back and fumbled with the latch, finally securing it with his mouth and one of his hooves after minutes of awkward work. He didn’t have to do much to get the straps sized properly, they were only a little loose on him. If he had to guess these were Big Mac’s saddlebags. The brown cloth they were made from -burlap? Arthur wondered idly- was well maintained, if showing signs of age. These were probably years old, and now they were Arthur’s. He’d have to remember to return them later or get the guy some new ones. He was only borrowing it, after all. He fought through the pang of guilt he felt. No time for that now. With a bit of Effort Arthur managed to tumble his strange form out of the window. Even with all the expertise, he showed walking in his new body, other motions were still clearly a work in progress. After all, getting used to four legs wasn’t much different than getting used to having four arms. Still didn’t make learning trivial, though. Arthur listened as he picked himself back up and casually dusted his slate blue coat off. He could hear in the distance where the two ponies were working, the rhythmic sound of the wooden basins being placed on the ground as the wooden cart groaned from being pulled. They were some distance from the front of the barn, so he’d head in the opposite direction and skirt around the edge of the farm. Along the way, he stopped occasionally to snatch a few apples from the orchard. He kept a mental count of those he swiped, promising to himself that he was only borrowing them. That made it okay, right? By the time he reached the edge of the farm he had around fifteen apples, enough for two days he hoped. It would have to last. He couldn’t keep stealing borrowing from these ponies. And yet, he couldn’t just live off the land. What little he had seen of this world on the way here made him intimately aware with how little his survival skills from Earth would translate to here. Some of the plants looked similar to those back home, but more often than not the plants were completely alien to him. He was just as likely to find a good meal as poison himself and it’d do nobody any good if he got himself killed before he got back home. Arthur stopped and put a hoof to his face as a yawn overpowered him, he wanted to get more sleep but three or four hours would have to be enough today. Maybe tonight he could camp in the forest or under a bridge. Somewhere. Climbing the fence to get off of the farm was more troublesome than the window. His success at climbing only marred by the half dozen apples that slipped from his pack onto the ground. With a groan, Arthur quickly gathered the filched fruit and started on his way. Arthur circled around the farm, deliberately keeping enough distance away from it so that he couldn’t be spotted in the waning darkness. The stars sky had already started to disappear as the horizon purpled with the impending twilight. It would be dawn soon. After what felt like an hour of stalking around the farm Arthur reached a hilltop overlooking both the town and the farm. He finally felt like he could relax and with a grateful sigh, he sat at the base of one of the trees atop the hill. The horizon was beginning to glow with shades of orange, dawn was only minutes away. He decided to take a moment and rest. It’s not that he was tired or anything, he rationalized. Certainly, the sharp pain he felt in his side with every step wasn’t the reason either. He just… Wanted to watch the sunrise. Yeah! Sure. Besides, he was hungry. ‘You’re still a growing boy’, his mother would often chide him. He needed to eat right and eat well. In this instance he would have to agree with her wisdom, he hadn’t eaten anything since he had arrived and it was taking a toll on him. Arthur placed the saddlebags on the ground and pulled one of the apples out. He stared at the fruit before forcing his feelings down and taking a solid bite out of the red fruit. He chewed for a moment and shrugged. It wasn’t that they tasted bad, just that they tasted… off. Like maybe they were not quite ripe, or too ripe. He wasn’t sure, but with how hungry he was he really didn’t care. He polished off one of the apples before starting on a second. Even with his hunger at such a peak, he forced himself to eat slowly, pacing his meal so he wouldn’t overindulge and run out of food. This was a survival scenario, even if he was in some mimicry of civilization. He needed to eat just enough to make it through the day without fainting. After his third apple, Arthur closed the saddlebag and leaned back into the tree. It wasn’t enough food, his stomach grumbled as it started to digest the apples. Arthur ignored it and closed his eyes tight in concentration. He tried to pull a shred of his power forth, an iota of what he had been blessed with just two weeks prior. His efforts went unrewarded, the harder he pulled the more the knife in his head was twisted. He fought through the pain he pulled harder and harder at his power, trying to force it forth. Eventually, pain won over his will and he exhaled in frustration, rubbing his head with his hoof to ablate the headache he had given himself. These events had transpired several times recently, each with an identical outcome. He would push and push until he thought he felt whispers of the power on the edge of his sensations but it would never come. Then, the headache would hang like a shadow over his thoughts for the rest of the day, making him aware that there were only two possibilities. Either his power couldn’t be wielded by a pony or his power was well and truly gone. Arthur didn’t like either explanation and so he would always push those thoughts out of mind and focus on anything else. In this case, that was the sunrise. The sky was painted in broad strokes of red, yellow, and orange. The clouds were outlined in golden sunlight as the sun finally crested the horizon. Arthur couldn’t tell if this sun was different from the one back home, it was bright and warm and that was all that mattered. The sun warmed his fur and brought a smile to his face. Somehow he just knew everything would work out okay. Curiously he saw the sun glow brighter for a moment before it quickly traveled along its path over the horizon. A vague sense of wrongness seeped into Arthur’s senses. Something about that sun was wrong. It was as though someone was forcing the sun along its path. The echo of a memory not his own came forth, incensed at the very notion. The sun was invincible, unconquerable. No mortal could tether it to their whims. The shade of someone who was somehow both him and yet separate cried out. "Whoever dared to...!" The memory disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, leaving Arthur confused at the alien thoughts that were bouncing around his head. Memories like that had been common since he had acquired his power. He didn’t know why his past self held the sun in such reverence. Had he been some kind of cultist in a past life? A religious figure? That is what they were, after all. Memories of a past self, of places and people he had never seen. He decided not to dwell on the memory as he couldn’t discern any use for it in his situation. For now, he needed to figure out where he was and find a way home. Arthur put the saddlebags back on and began his trek down the hill By the time he entered town the streets were alive with ponies walking to and fro. Occasionally one of the natives would wave at Arthur and he would return it, matching their smiles with his. Everyone was so neighborly and nice here, welcoming him as though he had always lived in this town. Surely in such a small village they noticed he was an outside? He almost wondered if he was being paranoid. He noticed as he walked through the town that some of the winged ponies moved the clouds in the sky, cycling out fluffy white clouds with dark clouds filled to bursting with rain. There must be a storm scheduled for today, or at least for tonight. Arthur was so caught up watching the strange choreography of the weather being prepared that he failed to watch where he was going and who was around him. “Woah! Watch out!” exclaimed a girl’s voice, from somewhere in front of him. The voice was just enough to pull Arthur out of his sky gazing and let him jump out of the way of an oncoming scooter. As it passed he gave a quick glance at the rider, a small orange pony with, a purple mane on her head. She looked to be fighting to maintain control as she came to a stop right past him. For a moment she gave Arthur an apologetic look. She must not have been paying attention either. Then she glanced at his flank and got an excited gleam in her eyes. Before Arthur could ask any questions she rode off on the scooter, propelling it with her tiny wings. If they had scooters here, maybe there were not as backward or low-tech as he thought. Really shouldn’t let myself get distracted. Even if it is cool, Arthur thought as he continued his journey through town. At this point, he was wandering aimlessly. He was hoping to find a library, find a map and see that he was just on some island in the Atlantic. Or the Pacific. He wouldn't play favorites. Arthur’s shoulders noticeably hung low as he sighed. Maybe he should ask someone for directions before getting his hopes up.
Rarity and the DawnThe moon hovered high in the dark night sky, a bright light surrounded by the distant twinkling of numerous stars. The Carousel Boutique’s sign swung lazily in the cool evening breeze, a rhythmic creak filling the silence of the night. Inside Rarity peacefully slept, nestled deep into her silk bed sheets. Her dreams were filled with fashion and fame. Finally, she was being recognized for her brilliance. Thump There was a loud noise like somepony had dropped their luggage on the floor. Rarity rolled over in her comforter and sighed contently, her mind slowly waking up. Subconsciously her ears rotated, listening for the sound to repeat. Must have been Opal jumping off of the counter. Just go back to sleep dear, she thought, wanting nothing more than to get back to her dream. “Damn this bites!” cursed a male voice in a pained whisper. Rarity’s eyes shot open, adrenaline coursing through her system. Somepony was in her boutique. Why was somepony in her boutique? Were they thieves? Or foal nappers? She swallowed a lump in her throat and pushed her thoughts aside. She had been reading too many novels lately, she decided. The only way to find an answer was to see for herself. With as much stealth as she could manage she slipped out of her bed and levitated the first heavy object, she could find to her side, a deep green gemstone about the size of a hoof. Her blue aura cast pale shadows across her bedroom. She then started creeping out of her bedroom. Every step more stressful than the last with her hooves making a light tapping sound on the hardwood. She listened intently as she crept down the stairwell. She could hear somepony shuffling around, their hooves noisily clacking as they moved about. “They always make this look so easy…!” the voice grunted rhythmically, like somepony trying to pull something that was almost too heavy. Thief! She knew it! Somepony was trying to steal one of her masterpieces! Likely to sell it on a black market for dresses! Sneak into her home and steal her hard work will he!? She’d give him a piece of her mind! With a burst of speed, Rarity raced down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Her eyes scanned the room as she hit the bottom of the stairs. The moonlight poured in from the display windows set into the front of her boutique, illuminating the outline of a figure. With a push of her legs she ran towards the intruder, lifted the gemstone high into the air, and then brought it down on the thief’s head with a resounding thwack. The thief’s body gave out under the force of the blow and he crumpled into a heap. The gemstone dropped from her telekinetic grip and clattered across the floor, refracting silver moonbeams around the showroom. Rarity’s heart was pounding in her chest, the adrenaline of the situation forcing it to pound against her ribcage. Fight or Flight slowly gave way to conscious thought as she took control of her breathing. She took a hesitant step towards the stallion. Her hoof landed on something warm and sticky, causing her to recoil in surprise. She lifted her hoof to inspect the bottom, but couldn’t discern anything in the moonlight. Rarity turned on the lights with her magic, the sudden change in brightness caused her to blink as her eyes adjusted. When she could see again the sight before her was far different from what she had expected. The floor of the boutique had blood dripped everywhere, most of it centered about where the thief lay unconscious. Most bizarre was what else she found around him. She had expected one of her dresses, or even some comical bag of loot complete with a money sign on the outside. Instead, she only found a curious collection of sewing supplies. Needles of various sizes and thread of differing weights were scattered around his hooves. Why would anypony steal sewing supplies? Unless... Gingerly she took the stallion in her magic and rolled him onto his side. A large gash ran along most of the length of his barrel and was slowly weeping blood onto her bare floor. She began to notice other injuries. A cut here, a scratch there. Most of his body was covered in bruises. It was like he had been tossed down a flight of stairs. She could even see the dark purples of a new bruise forming beneath the faint blue fur on his muzzle. She had caused that one. Oh no no no. What did she do? He was just hurt and trying to fix himself up and what did she do! She just… just… assaulted him! Like some base ruffian! He wasn’t moving, was he even still alive!? Urgently she moved to the stallion’s front and brought her ears by his muzzle. She held baited breath as she listened. After what felt like ages he finally exhaled. Yes! He was still alive! Rarity raised her head and looked towards the ceiling, thanking some unnamed deity that she hadn’t accidentally caused the stallion’s demise. She turned to run for her medical kit. She needed to get his injuries wrapped up and take him to the hospital! Her thoughts were cut short, however. A hoof suddenly shot up and grabbed her by her throat before she could move away. The grip tightened, cutting her breath short before she was quickly slammed down onto her back. A muffled yelp of pain managed to squeeze past the grip on her throat, but that was it. For a moment she was too shocked and afraid to do much of anything but sit there and stare blankly. Some part of her mind realized she’d really be feeling that one in the morning. The stallion towered over her with his hoof firmly on her throat. She stared at him in mute surprise. His face was contorted into a vicious look more befitting a griffin than a pony. His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts through clenched teeth; as though every inhalation hurt. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” the stallion growled, bringing his face far too close to hers. Golden eyes bored azure. It was like he could see into to her soul and was judging what he saw. His grip held firm on her throat as her face began to turn red. He took his time watching her. He tried to look angry, to appear intimidating and worthy of her fear. Instead, all she could see was just how tired he was, how obvious it was he hadn’t slept in days. There was something else too, was it fear? Rarity knew these were not the eyes of a thief or a murderer but instead the eyes of somepony who needed help. “Don’t scream.” He ordered. The intimidating facade he had been holding finally gave way to to the purest exhaustion. Suddenly he released his hold on her throat. Sweet oxygen suddenly flowed freely into her vacant lungs. She couldn’t help but find herself greedily sucking in every breath. Rarity watched the stallion as she caught her breath. She was shocked that he had tricked her so easily, surprised he had overpowered her so easily with one simple motion and left with so many questions. If he was truly a bad pony why had he just let her go? Why was he so tired? And why would he stoop to sewing himself up instead of seeking a hospital? He had already returned to his task, stitching up the still bleeding wound on his side. It almost seemed like he wasn’t aware of how much he was bleeding, or that he was doing it all over her once clean floor. “I just need to patch myself up, then I’ll go.” He grunted as he sewed his injury up with the needle. To Rarity’s eyes, it was obvious the Stallion had never used a needle and thread before. She doubted his work would last five minutes, let alone a night of bed rest. “Darling, you’re hurt. We need to get you to the hospital.” “No!” he barked, turning to look Rarity in the eye. “I’m not going to any hospital!” “Look at yourself!” Rarity demanded, pointing first at him and then at the blood that pooled around his hooves. “You are bleeding all over my boutique. Until today I didn’t even know a pony could lose this much blood,” She shuddered a little at the thought. The look in the stallion’s eyes hardened, telling her everything she needed to know. The only way he was going to a hospital was if she knocked him out and dragged him there herself. When she didn’t continue talking he turned his attention from her back to his injury, hissing at the sensation of sewing his own flesh shut. Rarity rolled her eyes. His sewing skills were amateur at best. None of his work would hold up for any length of time if he kept moving. That is to say nothing of infection that might occur since he wasn’t cleaning the wounds at all. She quickly grabbed the first aid kit and a bottle of alcohol from her bathroom before returning to the Stallion. A white cloth hovered in her blue aura as she poured some of the alcohol into it. “Well Darling, if you can’t go to a hospital then I guess we’ll just have to make due. Now hold still! Normally I work on dresses, not ponies.” She hoped her tone came across as both firm and kind. A pair of scissors undid all of the stallion’s hard work. The wound still needed to be cleaned after all. Wouldn’t do to let infection set in after everything that happened tonight. Every piece of thread was cut and then gingerly pulled out with her magic. The stallion seemed upset at having his work destroyed, but he remained silent. When she placed the cloth against his injury she expected a hiss of pain, or perhaps even for him to try to hit her out of instinct. Instead, he simply watched her curiously, as though he couldn’t feel the burning of the alcohol. After she became satisfied the wound was as clean as it would get, what with it still refusing to stop bleeding, she levitated a small needle and began to look over the thread he had collected. The collection was nearly useless, all of it was much too thin to hold up to any real stress. She threaded the needle with the thickest thread the stallion had raided, it would probably be enough to hold his side shut if he wasn’t too rough on it. Her patient frowned as she sterilized the needle and thread with the alcohol. “Why are you helping me?” He asked, though his tone asked another question, “What do you expect in exchange?” “Because you look like you needed help. That is enough of a reason for me.” Rarity explained as she started sewing the Stallion’s side back up. He hissed when she began but quickly grew silent again, was he trying to put on a strong face? Rarity couldn’t be too sure. “Is everyone around here so generous?” The stallion asked incredulously. “Darling, I think you’d be hard pressed to find any pony here in Ponyville who wouldn’t help out a stranger,” She tilted her head in thought,”Though maybe some of them would be less forgiving about breaking into their homes.” She swore she saw the stallion smile at her comment before quickly returning to his stoic face. Rarity backed up to allow the stallion a chance to inspect her craftsponyship. He glanced down and gave the stitching a quizzical look before flexing his body experimentally. “Seems a bit complex, but it feels like it’ll hold. Thank you. I’ll be going now.” He stated. His tone was serious but his voice wavered like he was forcing himself to keep going. His legs strained as he walked, barely seemed capable of holding up his frame as he walked towards the front door. “You can’t walk around like this dear,” Rarity placed a hoof on his back, noticing the way he tensed up at her touch, “It’s late and you are injured. Just stay here, at least until morning.” The stallion thought for a moment before shaking his head. “You have done so much for me, I will not bother you anymore,” he stated before leaving Carousel Boutique.
Nightmare-Carving MurmurThe door clicked shut and Arthur let loose a held breath. He stood on the steps of Carousel Boutique for a moment as he replayed his encounter over in his head. When she cracked him over the skull his only thought had been to kick and punch and scream; to fight. He was sure the pony’s reaction was almost the opposite. She looked guilty when he first grabbed her, like a child caught stealing a cookie. Even when he had been choking her, her eyes still looked… innocent? He wasn’t sure the proper word, but it was like she was shocked at the very concept of murder. Why did she help him? After he broke into her home no less! What was this place? Back home there would have been screaming, threatening. More than a weak bash to his head, at least. Was life really that peaceful here? Or could she tell he wasn’t going to hurt her? The whole situation sent shivers down his spine. Arthur shook the thoughts from his weary mind, finally forcing his body forward into the moonlight night. The streets of the village were still vacant when he started away from Carousel Boutique. He was too tired to gawk anymore at the primitive thatch-roofed homes; too tired to even keep track of time. The only reminders he was still awake shifted between the distinct clip-clop his hooves made and the throbbing in his side from his injury. At least the bleeding had been stopped. “Tch,” Arthur clicked his tongue as he glanced around. He was beginning to grow annoyed, his body ached like he had been in a battle and yet he couldn’t recall anything since the giant back home... A cool breeze blew through Arthur that caused him to shudder. He shoved that particular memory to the furthest reaches of his mind. His body recalled a battle his mind couldn’t. That worried him. Something about this sensation was familiar. His injury had been caused by some kind of blade, no claw would have left such a clean injury. Nor would it have sliced into his ribs as easily. “Doesn’t do me any good to think about it,” Arthur grumbled as he looked up at a signpost to verify he was going the right way. He was heading to a place he had spotted on his way into town, a humble little farm on the outskirts of town. It had too many barns for the family of four that owned it to keep track of. There were plenty of places he could hide and rest and plenty of food he could eat. Arthur’s steps grew harder as he pushed himself up the trail to the farm, Sweet Apple Acres if the sign was to be trusted. A yawn escaped his mouth as he entered the property, it wouldn’t be long now until he could finally get some sleep. He had been awake for at least two days, he wagered. It took only a few minutes for Arthur to sneak into one of the lesser maintained barns on the property and find a decent place in the loft to lay down. The loft was a good place to sleep, his ‘bed’ wasn’t easy to spot and it gave him the high ground if anyone ever came inside. Arthur laid down wIth an unceremonious flop. Tomorrow he would binge on apples. A deep groaning began to fill the barn as the wooden walls started to warp. Arthur was on his hooves in a second and quickly squared his shoulders, molding his weary body into a fighting stance. A freezing wind howled through the barn, biting at Arthur’s very core as he watched the walls bend and twist against some outside force. With a powerful kick, he jumped down from the loft and landed on the dirt floor. He wasn’t sure what was going on, some kind of tornado? Or perhaps this barn simply wasn’t as sturdy as he thought? There was a tearing sound as the roof dissolved into dust. Outside was an obsidian black night. Not a single star twinkled in the sky, and no moon hovered lovingly over its earth. It was a sky of pure nothing. What was it he read in school? Something about staring into the abyss? Arthur thought this was particularly apt when a pair of eyes opened in the sky and stared back into his. The eyes were somehow darker than the sky, like a pair of black holes that bore into his soul. A chill ran through Arthur’s soul as a single realization flickered to the front of his mind. It had found him. “No… No!” Arthur shouted, wanting to deny what his own eyes saw. The subtle glow of power filled the barn and like rays of sunlight they cast long shadows onto the environment. The brilliant golden rays shone over the featureless form of the creature, once again searing it’s visage into Arthur’s mind. A behemoth, easily forty feet in height towered over the barn. Its flesh was as non-existent as its eyes, only a blurry visage of nothingness where air and light should be. There was a scream; deep and throaty, it was a noise that only a mind fully subsumed in a primal rage could unleash. The not-shape lifted it’s hand and reached into the barn. Arthur’s body tensed in response, his back hooves shifted as he raised his front legs to meet the hand, to block the impending attack bodily. With a simple motion it flicked Arthur into the far wall of the barn. Wood splintered as farming implements rattled around his body. His ears rang from the tinny sound of the tools and the screaming. Slowly he came to realize that he was the one screaming, but now it wasn’t powered by anything as predictable as rage. Now pure terror filled his mind. Arthur’s limbs moved in an uncoordinated mess as he ran for the door to the barn. He had to leave. He couldn’t handle this being, this monster. Last time he had fought it he had died. Last time he wasn’t strong enough to save anyone. Why would this time be any different? The barn doors snapped against their hinges as Arthur ran into the asphalt streets of downtown Anchorage. Everything was destroyed. Thick chunks of the road were missing from explosions while long divots showed where something had stood its ground. Storefronts and apartment buildings sagged on broken supports. Vehicles were overturned and strewn throughout the streets, he could see one dangling from the third floor of a building he passed under. A booming sound followed him; footprints, his panicked mind realized. His hooves stung as he skidded around the corner. Arthur stumbled and fell after taking the corner too hard. He could feel a painful snap in his shoulder when he landed. He wasn’t sure if he had broken or dislocated his right arm, foreleg, whatever. He just knew he couldn’t get the limb to do anything anymore. With a groan, he pushed himself back to his remaining three good hooves. A booming stomp from behind only drove him forward faster. Something struck him from behind and sent him flying down the street. A searing hot pain filled his chest, as though someone had decided to melt steel in his chest. He tried to move, to get away but found that he couldn’t. A bloody length of rebar protruded from his chest, too slick with his own blood to pull himself off of. Something soft stirred behind him and he noticed he was sitting on a pair of human legs. Behind him, impaled on the same piece of rebar, was a man. The most notable feature, the feature that struck horror in Arthur, was the extra pair of arms the figure sported right below his normal armpits. A new wave of terror washed over Arthur as he realized who he had landed on. Himself. A fist made of cosmic nothing came crashing down onto Arthur. He winced at the impending impact. A bright flash of blue light appeared in front of Arthur. “Disperse, nightmare!” A regal female voice demanded, the tone made it obvious there was no alternative. The power of those words tore at the dream, quickly dissolving everything away into a black void until all that remained was Arthur and a new pony. “Art thou well, my little pony?” the new voice asked. The pony across from Arthur was only an inch or two shorter than him. He noted her fur was a darker shade of blue than his. The horn was new, though. The wings too. “‘Little pony?’” Arthur echoed incredulously as the fear of his mind fell away in large sheets. Who was this pony? Something his subconscious thought up to ‘protect’ him? He snorted at the thought. “Indeed, thy guardian of dreams hath returned!” She paused in speaking to catch her breath, Arthur noted. “For I am Princess Luna!” Luna made a particular dramatic flair with her wings and, as if on cue, the dust swirled close before settling into the shape of a new location. Arthur blinked. Was he dreaming? The realization came quickly as the scene changed. His breaths still came heavy from all of his screams, and his heart still shuddered with the chest still heaved and his heart shuddered as the fear finally vanished from his mind. He now found himself sitting on a stool inside of a simple trailer. Through the window, he could see the dark Alaskan night he had been raised in. The TV in the bedroom behind him was blaring coverage of a baseball game, Royals versus Giants from what he could tell. A thin layer of trash was strategically placed throughout the kitchen and adjoining living room, as though its owner was afraid of being too clean. This was one of his favorite escapes, Arthur remembered. This was his uncle’s trailer. In the blink of an eye, the princess appeared across the counter from Arthur, seated on her own stool. Her metal raiment rattled as her head shifted, taking in the alien environment. “Is this still the nightmare? Such a place seems… stifling.” Luna began before settling her gaze on Arthur. She looked at him expectantly, as though it was her birthday. Arthur only continued to stare back. That expectant look slowly melted away into indignation. Realization flashed across Arthur’s face, which seemed to make Luna happy until Arthur climbed off the stool and approached the fridge. If he noticed the shocked expression that Luna wore he didn’t show it. Even if it was just a dream he was still hungry, and if this was his dream then there was a ham and pastrami with his name on it. His bet on finding something good to eat when he woke up was slim. Luna’s face ran a gamut from curiosity, confusion, and anger before finally settling on ‘incensed’ when Arthur noisily sat on his stool with a freshly procured sandwich. He continued watching the princess as he ate the sandwich, loudly chewing each bite of the delicious meat. Luna slammed her hooves down on the counter. “How darest thou! Thy princess visits and vanquishes a nightmare and we do not even receive so much as an utterance of thanks! And now you dare mock us!?” Arthur simply shrugged, “What,-” He took a large bite of his sandwich, “- am I supposed to take you seriously?” he finished, deliberately spraying some crumbs in her direction. If this was his dream he was going to have some fun. That seemed to only add fuel to the fire. Arthur thought it was entertaining when someone couldn’t keep their anger in check. He wondered if this dream-pony-princess had a berserk button; his subconscious would give it one, right? “I am your princess! You would do well to address me as such!” “Not my princess, I voted for the other candidate!” Arthur grinned as Luna sputtered. He went to take another bite of his sandwich but found a hoof racing into his face instead. The side of the trailer warped outward as Arthur’s frame tore through the metal siding. A manic smile crossed his face as he sailed through the air, righting himself as he landed nearly forty feet away in a pile of snow. A realization came to the front of his mind. “Oh, so you can fight?” It was less a question asked of Luna and more a statement of fact. His smile only grew in size as he slipped into a low stance, preparing for a much-desired fight. He wondered what his subconscious was doing dreaming this pony princess up. Was it trying to come up with the perfect pony girlfriend? He scoffed at the idea, he wasn’t ready to give up on hands yet. He did give his subconscious some credit, she did know how to throw a punch. Luna flew over to where Arthur stood, landing just a few feet in front of him with a remorseful look on her face. Maybe if Arthur had been paying attention he would have realized she was trying to talk to him, but the only thing his mind registered was how open to attacks she was. She started to say something but Arthur never gave her the chance. Instead, a powerful roundhouse kick sent her tumbling across the snow in an undignified heap. “Come on,” Arthur clicked his tongue again as he bounced between his four hooves, “It’s no fun if you don’t try to dodge!” Luna lifted herself off of the snow and touched a hoof to her face. When she removed it she saw blood. If she had been real, Arthur was certain she’d feel that in the morning. Arthur watched from afar for a moment, waiting for her to recover. It wouldn’t be fun if he just wailed on her, at least if she wasn’t ready for it. She looked like she was thinking about something as she set herself into a stance. A grunt of effort was all the warning Arthur got as Luna launched herself forward with one beat of her powerful wings. He found himself pushed off balance as her hoof found purchase in his sternum. With a growl, Arthur found his balance and returned the attack with one of his own. The two launched blow after blow at each other with neither one able to floor the other as surely as their first attacks did. The fighting continued for several minutes as the two kicked up snow in the cold winter night. Eventually, they split apart. They sucked in deep breaths as they panted from the exertion of the fight. Arthur’s face and sides were covered in bruises, some of which had already begun to swell. Across from him, Luna looked in much better shape though she was obviously more worn out than him. Her mane, once perfectly combed, was now a tattered mess from both sweat and close calls. Her crown had disappeared somewhere in the fight. “What is thy name, sir? We wouldst know with whom we spar!” Luna called, a smile on her face that reflected Arthur’s own. He could tell she had needed a fight almost as bad as he had, it was always the best way to get his head straight after all. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but a strange noise distracted him. The sound was a deep creaking, like a well-worn hinge that was being overworked.It didn’t take long for his mind to realize someone was approaching. That and a burst of adrenaline was all it took for the dream to fade away into full wakefulness. The door to the barn was opening. Author's Note Sorry for there being such a huge gap between me releasing chapter 2. Some real life stuff happened that didn't allow for me to work on this, but I won't bore you with the details. Originally Chapter 2 was going to involve Pinkie Pie (that's why she was originally tagged) but then I realized while writing it that a lot of the chapter made no sense without any context to back it up. So expect it to be a while before I stuff Pinkie in. --- Update 12/10/16 This chapter was originally titled 'Luna and the Dawn' prior to a minor rewrite on 12/10/2016. Most of the changes were centered around changing the POV to just Arthur's POV, the chapter title change was done to reflect this. The ending scene was what was altered for this change, the old scene is left below for posterity's sake. It originally was placed when Arthur was tossed out of the trailer The side of the trailer exploded outward as Arthur’s frame hurtled through the air. A manic smile crossed his face as he landed nearly forty feet away from the trailer in a pile of snow, a realization coming to the front of his mind. “Oh, so you can fight.” The words were less a question and more a statement of fact. The grin never left his face as he rose to his feet. He wondered what his subconscious was doing dreaming this pony princess up. Was it trying to come up with the perfect pony girlfriend? He scoffed at the idea, he wasn’t ready to give up on hands yet. She did know how to throw a punch, though. Luna flew over to where Arthur stood, a remorseful look on her face. She started to say something but Arthur never gave her a chance. She instead was struck with a powerful roundhouse kick that sent her tumbling across the snow. “Come on,” Arthur clicked his tongue again as he bounced between his four hooves, “It’s no fun if you don’t try to dodge!” Luna lifted herself off of the snow and touched a hoof to her face. When she removed it she saw blood. She wasn’t sure what to think. There was a point in the past that such impudence would lead to imprisonment. Perhaps her sister was right, it appeared their ponies had changed a lot in the last thousand years. What had Celestia said? Something about treating them ponies as something closer to equals rather than subjects. A grunt of effort was all the warning the stranger got as Luna launched herself forward, her hoof finding purchase in his sternum. He barely staggered from the attack before returning with his own strike. The two launched blow after blow at each other with neither one able to do more than scratch the other. This continued for some time until they separated, both panting heavily. “What is thy name, sir? We wouldst know with whom we spar!” Luna called, a smile on her face. She rarely had the chance to practice with another pony, all of her guards were too hesitant to fight like this. The stranger opened his mouth to say something but before he could say it the dream vanished in a burst of smoke and Luna found herself sitting on her bed in Canterlot. The dream had ended.
Spurious PresenceArthur’s head shot up as a creaking noise echoed in the barn. Memories drained from his head as his mind raced to take in the situation. The flame of a lantern cast long shadows throughout the barn as a pair of ponies entered; one with red fur and the other orange. Arthur pushed himself flat with the loft he occupied, watching the two through slits between the floorboards. “Alright Big Mac, let’s get everything set up. Applebuck season’s comin’ ” The orange mare said, at least he assumed she was female from her voice. There was a certain country twang to her words that Arthur couldn’t place. The red stallion, identified by the deep voice, responded with a simple ‘eyup’. Truly, a man of few words. That seemed to be the extent of their conversation. The only sounds the two made as they worked were various grunts and one-word replies to those grunts as they loaded a cart up with wooden basins. It seemed like they knew what they were doing and had been doing it for quite a while, to know each other so well. Arthur’s ears twisted as he took in the bits of conversation, hoping the pair would give him a clue as to where he was. Instead, the pair just hitched the orange pony up to the cart and she hauled it outside. Big Mac, he thought that was what Orange had called him, paused as he went to shut the barn doors behind him and glanced around the barn. There was an inquisitive look on his face, as though he thought something was out of place. When Red’s gaze passed by his hiding spot Arthur pushed his body as flush with the floor as he could. He held his breath, afraid any sound might betray his location Don’t see me... Don’t see me... His mind echoed, “Big Mac? What's tha holdup?” Orange called from outside. Red took one final glance around the barn before picking up the lantern he had entered with and leaving. Arthur didn’t raise his head until he heard the clunk of the barn doors shutting. Slowly Arthur let out his held breath and began to draw in fresh air. Red was observant, if Orange hadn’t distracted him then Arthur might have been spotted. Would have been spotted, he reminded himself. The only cover he had was a wooden floor. If Red had walked upstairs there was only one way for that to go down. Arthur listened to the fading conversation, making sure the two were actually leaving and not setting up a trap for him. He only let himself move after the voices faded away. Arthur stood up as his heart pounded in his chest and his eyes adjusted to the darkness. It wasn’t much, but some starlight filtered in through shutters fixed into the side of the barn. As he walked down the stairs he wondered what had given his presence away. Had he made noise when he woke up or…? He hadn’t bothered to cover up his hoofprints. A groan came from his mouth as he smacked himself. He hadn’t covered his trail, it was that simple. A trail, plain as day, was set into the dirt and hay floor leading right to the steps of his hiding spot. It was something so simple, so obvious, and yet he hadn’t thought of in his exhaustion. Red must have caught on while loading the cart. The revelation didn’t do much to solve his situation, though. Now that Red had spotted him it was only a matter of time until Orange caught on to him as well. That meant he had one option. Find a new place to hide. Security would tighten up and even if it meant just two ponies keeping an eye out for him, he wanted to avoid it. I need to find some food and a place to crash. Maybe a source of information too, Arthur thought as he reached one of the shutter-covered windows in the barn. He carefully opened the shutters, pleased to hear that they only made a small metallic creak as he pushed them open. The light of the moon flooded in through the open shutters, turning vague shadow forms into real objects. Arthur took one final glance around the barn he had hidden in before moving to climb out of the barn. A glint of metal caught his eye before he could leave. Resting atop a dividing wall in the barn hung a backpack, a silver buckle hung from a loose strap and reflected the moonlight. Silently he moved for the object and lifted it up. Upon closer inspection, it was a saddlebag. Or was it a set of saddlebags? Arthur shook his head, he didn’t care about the specific wording. All he knew was this was a godsend; Something that’d let him store the supplies he desperately needed to survive. Arthur tossed the saddlebags onto his back and fumbled with the latch, finally securing it with his mouth and one of his hooves after minutes of awkward work. He didn’t have to do much to get the straps sized properly, they were only a little loose on him. If he had to guess these were Big Mac’s saddlebags. The brown cloth they were made from -burlap? Arthur wondered idly- was well maintained, if showing signs of age. These were probably years old, and now they were Arthur’s. He’d have to remember to return them later or get the guy some new ones. He was only borrowing it, after all. He fought through the pang of guilt he felt. No time for that now. With a bit of Effort Arthur managed to tumble his strange form out of the window. Even with all the expertise, he showed walking in his new body, other motions were still clearly a work in progress. After all, getting used to four legs wasn’t much different than getting used to having four arms. Still didn’t make learning trivial, though. Arthur listened as he picked himself back up and casually dusted his slate blue coat off. He could hear in the distance where the two ponies were working, the rhythmic sound of the wooden basins being placed on the ground as the wooden cart groaned from being pulled. They were some distance from the front of the barn, so he’d head in the opposite direction and skirt around the edge of the farm. Along the way, he stopped occasionally to snatch a few apples from the orchard. He kept a mental count of those he swiped, promising to himself that he was only borrowing them. That made it okay, right? By the time he reached the edge of the farm he had around fifteen apples, enough for two days he hoped. It would have to last. He couldn’t keep stealing borrowing from these ponies. And yet, he couldn’t just live off the land. What little he had seen of this world on the way here made him intimately aware with how little his survival skills from Earth would translate to here. Some of the plants looked similar to those back home, but more often than not the plants were completely alien to him. He was just as likely to find a good meal as poison himself and it’d do nobody any good if he got himself killed before he got back home. Arthur stopped and put a hoof to his face as a yawn overpowered him, he wanted to get more sleep but three or four hours would have to be enough today. Maybe tonight he could camp in the forest or under a bridge. Somewhere. Climbing the fence to get off of the farm was more troublesome than the window. His success at climbing only marred by the half dozen apples that slipped from his pack onto the ground. With a groan, Arthur quickly gathered the filched fruit and started on his way. Arthur circled around the farm, deliberately keeping enough distance away from it so that he couldn’t be spotted in the waning darkness. The stars sky had already started to disappear as the horizon purpled with the impending twilight. It would be dawn soon. After what felt like an hour of stalking around the farm Arthur reached a hilltop overlooking both the town and the farm. He finally felt like he could relax and with a grateful sigh, he sat at the base of one of the trees atop the hill. The horizon was beginning to glow with shades of orange, dawn was only minutes away. He decided to take a moment and rest. It’s not that he was tired or anything, he rationalized. Certainly, the sharp pain he felt in his side with every step wasn’t the reason either. He just… Wanted to watch the sunrise. Yeah! Sure. Besides, he was hungry. ‘You’re still a growing boy’, his mother would often chide him. He needed to eat right and eat well. In this instance he would have to agree with her wisdom, he hadn’t eaten anything since he had arrived and it was taking a toll on him. Arthur placed the saddlebags on the ground and pulled one of the apples out. He stared at the fruit before forcing his feelings down and taking a solid bite out of the red fruit. He chewed for a moment and shrugged. It wasn’t that they tasted bad, just that they tasted… off. Like maybe they were not quite ripe, or too ripe. He wasn’t sure, but with how hungry he was he really didn’t care. He polished off one of the apples before starting on a second. Even with his hunger at such a peak, he forced himself to eat slowly, pacing his meal so he wouldn’t overindulge and run out of food. This was a survival scenario, even if he was in some mimicry of civilization. He needed to eat just enough to make it through the day without fainting. After his third apple, Arthur closed the saddlebag and leaned back into the tree. It wasn’t enough food, his stomach grumbled as it started to digest the apples. Arthur ignored it and closed his eyes tight in concentration. He tried to pull a shred of his power forth, an iota of what he had been blessed with just two weeks prior. His efforts went unrewarded, the harder he pulled the more the knife in his head was twisted. He fought through the pain he pulled harder and harder at his power, trying to force it forth. Eventually, pain won over his will and he exhaled in frustration, rubbing his head with his hoof to ablate the headache he had given himself. These events had transpired several times recently, each with an identical outcome. He would push and push until he thought he felt whispers of the power on the edge of his sensations but it would never come. Then, the headache would hang like a shadow over his thoughts for the rest of the day, making him aware that there were only two possibilities. Either his power couldn’t be wielded by a pony or his power was well and truly gone. Arthur didn’t like either explanation and so he would always push those thoughts out of mind and focus on anything else. In this case, that was the sunrise. The sky was painted in broad strokes of red, yellow, and orange. The clouds were outlined in golden sunlight as the sun finally crested the horizon. Arthur couldn’t tell if this sun was different from the one back home, it was bright and warm and that was all that mattered. The sun warmed his fur and brought a smile to his face. Somehow he just knew everything would work out okay. Curiously he saw the sun glow brighter for a moment before it quickly traveled along its path over the horizon. A vague sense of wrongness seeped into Arthur’s senses. Something about that sun was wrong. It was as though someone was forcing the sun along its path. The echo of a memory not his own came forth, incensed at the very notion. The sun was invincible, unconquerable. No mortal could tether it to their whims. The shade of someone who was somehow both him and yet separate cried out. "Whoever dared to...!" The memory disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, leaving Arthur confused at the alien thoughts that were bouncing around his head. Memories like that had been common since he had acquired his power. He didn’t know why his past self held the sun in such reverence. Had he been some kind of cultist in a past life? A religious figure? That is what they were, after all. Memories of a past self, of places and people he had never seen. He decided not to dwell on the memory as he couldn’t discern any use for it in his situation. For now, he needed to figure out where he was and find a way home. Arthur put the saddlebags back on and began his trek down the hill By the time he entered town the streets were alive with ponies walking to and fro. Occasionally one of the natives would wave at Arthur and he would return it, matching their smiles with his. Everyone was so neighborly and nice here, welcoming him as though he had always lived in this town. Surely in such a small village they noticed he was an outside? He almost wondered if he was being paranoid. He noticed as he walked through the town that some of the winged ponies moved the clouds in the sky, cycling out fluffy white clouds with dark clouds filled to bursting with rain. There must be a storm scheduled for today, or at least for tonight. Arthur was so caught up watching the strange choreography of the weather being prepared that he failed to watch where he was going and who was around him. “Woah! Watch out!” exclaimed a girl’s voice, from somewhere in front of him. The voice was just enough to pull Arthur out of his sky gazing and let him jump out of the way of an oncoming scooter. As it passed he gave a quick glance at the rider, a small orange pony with, a purple mane on her head. She looked to be fighting to maintain control as she came to a stop right past him. For a moment she gave Arthur an apologetic look. She must not have been paying attention either. Then she glanced at his flank and got an excited gleam in her eyes. Before Arthur could ask any questions she rode off on the scooter, propelling it with her tiny wings. If they had scooters here, maybe there were not as backward or low-tech as he thought. Really shouldn’t let myself get distracted. Even if it is cool, Arthur thought as he continued his journey through town. At this point, he was wandering aimlessly. He was hoping to find a library, find a map and see that he was just on some island in the Atlantic. Or the Pacific. He wouldn't play favorites. Arthur’s shoulders noticeably hung low as he sighed. Maybe he should ask someone for directions before getting his hopes up.
