Becoming Chaos

Chapters

His Golden Eyes
The Third Gift
Sanity Cracking
Delirium
In The Presence Of A Deity
Cleansing The Grime
Picking Up The Pace
A Stirring Of Rebellion
Falling With Generosity
Triumphant Revelation
A Ditzy Encounter
Home Sweet Home
Six Day Plan

His Golden Eyes

The six vibrant, colourful, restored ponies rose into the air but he didn't care.

The leader, the bright purple egghead known as Twilight Sparkle opened her eyes, shining bright with magic but he didn't care.

The rainbow erupted upwards and descended towards him but he didn't care.

Nor did he care when he felt the glowing magical bolt impact. Nor did he care when he felt the stone creeping up his form. Nor did he care when he felt the stone reach his eyes, his mind and then, finally, his horns.

The stone statue of Discord, god of chaos and lord of mischief hit the now grassy green ground with a hollow thud, cheers erupting around the town over his defeat but he didn't care.

He had already won.

[.]

He awoke in a cold sweat, eyes blasting open, mouth opening in a silent scream and body bolting forward to knock the sweat soaked covers off of his form as he sat up suddenly in bed, clawing at the covers in terror.

It was the same nightmare as before, as it had been for the previous days- no – the previous weeks. Always it would wake him, always early, always scared, always alone. The mismatched monster with the cruel, laughing golden eyes would watch him, taunt him and then, when it drew closer and closer, when he could feel its hot breath on his face, he would wake up. Tonight had been different though, it had seemed to pass through him before he bolted awake, before he could escape from the horror of his dreams.

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, his rapid, heavy, panting breaths began to die down to be replaced by shaky, shallow breaths, sweat freezing and chilling him to his very core as he allowed his hands to cease their iron grip on the bed and his eyes to stop vainly searching the room.

There had been some nights, some nights were it had been so bad that he had begun to hallucinate strange goings on. From the movement of his bedroom T.V remote to a pair of glowing golden eyes resting in the corner of his room. The worst though, the very thing that had left him scared to return to his apartment, had been the laughter. The dark, humorous yet sinister laughter that had rung around his home, sending him running from his dark apartment with terror in his heart.

His eyes glanced at the red digital alarm clock on his small, slightly worn bedside table, before his eyes rolled around his head as he read the time. Three in the morning, his usual wakeup time nowadays, much to his chagrin. His room was dark, all lights cut off, the sun still hidden deftly behind the horizon, the moon and the feeble light from street-lights his only source of vision in the gloomy darkness.

On his first night of the horrible, vomit inducing nightmares he had simply stood up and shrugged off its effects, returning back to slumber. On the second night, he had lain awake for an hour desperately trying to get back to sleep. The third night had heralded the glowing, golden eyes, dispelling all hopes and dreams of a good nights sleep. By the seventh night, trying to fall back to sleep had been abandoned, even moving from the bed was a task, fear and terror often freezing his limbs.

With a loud sigh, he rolled out of his damp, chilled bed and hit the darkened rug floor with a slight thud, groaning somewhat as he clambered back to his feet, beginning his short journey to the interlocking bathroom.

He had spoken to many doctors, nurses, psychiatrists and even the occasional mentally ill patient about such an occurrence. Each one had selected a different form of treatment, be it medicines or herbs, needles or incense. None of them had worked, all had failed in preventing the night terrors. No matter how much he hoped, how much he prayed for freedom, that golden eyed, sharp toothed, collaboration of monsters would always return and each time it did, it would get closer and closer to him.

Feeling his feet change from the soft, foamy texture of his bedroom rug to the cold, hard texture of his bathroom tiles he groped for the thin, white string that connected to his light, grasping it and yanking down on it to flood the room with a much needed glow.

Sometimes, only on rare occasions, that monstrosity, that beast, that dark, twisted horror would call to him in his dreams, would whisper and murmur tales to him, speeches and statements that would chill his blood. On the very first night it had smiled and smirked evilly, muttering something barely coherent that seemed to have something to do with celestial and harmony. The eighth night had heralded it actually speaking to him, a corrupted chuckled hello greeting the horrified, yet dreaming humans ears, the voice deep yet smooth like a serpent. The twelfth night had been the worst, the beast proclaiming that it had something nasty in store for someone called Celestia and that he, the terrified human, would be a key role. From then on the torturous spirit had fallen silent, merely smirking and smiling at the human.

He blinked the blinding, blitzing yellow light from his eyes as he staggered into the bathroom with heavy, laden footsteps that slapped along the cold, white tiles. The bathroom itself was a cramped, dingy looking room with cold, white, cracked tiles coating the floor and the walls, a stained white and mottled brown ceiling hanging high above. The room had a single porcelain toilet, a running, dripping set of taps plopping water into a draining sink. A black, partially moulded bathtub with a rusted shower head sat along the side of the bathroom like a silent watchmen. A small, glass cabinet that doubled as a mirror hung above the sink, insides filled with toothpaste, deodorant, razors and some medication that was “guaranteed” to work.

His family had of course been around to attempt to help him through what personal hell he was going through, his hefty group of friends there to help him as well, to no avail. He had told them that he was cured, that he was fine once more. He had told them not to worry, that maybe it was just stress from his rather boring maths teacher job and they had, eventually, believed him and allowed him to send them off, wishing them safe journeys. All for the better, he did not want his friends, nor his family to worry about him. It was just a short time thing, something that simply needed to be ignored for long enough for it to leave. Or so he hoped.

He stumbled over to the sink, rubbing his eyes blearily trying to get rid of the excess sleep, his twin, slate grey orbs burning in their sockets as though someone had been rubbing them for hours. With a loud grunt, he leaned over the sink and splashed a copious amount of water on his face, feeling the droplets trickling down his face and revitalizing him with their cold, crispness.

He allowed himself a small smile as he felt the cold water run down his face and drip into the sink with a gurgle, the cold water washing away the drowsiness like a message in the sand at a beach. His smile suddenly faltered with a flicker of panic, something rather sharp and rather large poking into the bottom of his lip drawing his attention rather swiftly from the relaxing chill of the water, his stomach suddenly gurgling and groaning as he pushed himself away from the sink, feeling around the inside of his mouth with his tongue.

With widening, panicked, scared eyes he began to hurry back towards the sink to investigate before a noise stopped him.

It was quiet at first, originating from somewhere in the apartment, somewhere undistinguishable but definitely, certainly somewhere close. It took ten long, dragging seconds for the sound to reach a volume where it was coherent, where the noise and the location could be distinguished by the now sweating, nervous, heart-pumping human.

It was the deep, dark sound of cold laughter, a sinister chuckle that the human had heard before, the sound coming from his bedroom, shrouded in shadows so that only the bathroom light illuminated bed was able to be seen.

The noise of cackling, malicious laughter grew louder and louder until it echoed around the humans mind, the terrified, horrified, nearly breaking down figure now scrabbling backwards as far away from the bedroom as possible, slipping into the bathtub with a startled yelp, eyes still burning and mouth opening and closing in a silent scream. His naked arms scrabbled along the dirt smeared, grimy bathtub as he pushed himself further against the wall as the laughter continued to grow in volume, the monster behind the laughter drawing closer and closer to the door, the frightened, partially paralysed human widening his eyes in horror, jibbering under his breath, desperately trying to convince himself that this was a dream, just another dream.

But it's too real to be a dream, all too real.

The laughter stopped as a cold, mischief, silky, purr of a voice cut through the terrorized atmosphere in the air like a knife, sliding through the ears of the mind boggled, spooked human.

Shakily, with harsh, ragged breaths the quivering man rose in the bathtub, slipping for a second in its smooth interior before he gulped forcefully, throat ravaged like sandpaper. He spoke up in a stuttered, anxious voice that was filled to the brim with fear, still choosing to remain inside the filthy bathtub, shivering like a leaf in the breeze.

“W-w-whose th...there?”

All sounds stopped, the laughter, the rumble of the menacing voice, the dripping of the tap all turned silent. With a slow, cautious step, the still shaking, half naked man stepped out of the bathtub with a light thud, one foot and then the other connecting with the tiles with a small, almost unnoticeable noise.

As soon as both feet touched the chilling floor a great gust of wind rushed over him, forcing his hair back and rippling his boxers, the strange, strong draft creaking the door open even further, causing the human to let out an involuntary whimper of fear.

The voice returned quite suddenly, tickling the humans ear as if the owner were next to him, making the unfortunate man jump and shriek in horror.

Don't you remember me? You only saw me moments ago.

The human shivered, limbs frozen to the spot, tongue tied and throat desert dry. He did remember that voice, he remembered it well. It had been in his nightmares for weeks now, weeks of suffering and torment.

Ah, so you do remember me? Good, good.

The man forced himself to close his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing, attempting to block out all other noises as he quietly, but with gaining volume started to chant a mantra.

“Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. Jus-”

The draft of heavy air rushed over him again, the sound whistling in his ears as a light chuckle split through his mind, shattering his concentration.

Oh my, this is more then a dream my...friend. More then a dream indeed.

The condescending, malicious tone of voice that the invisible spectre of creatures used was enough to ignite a spark of anger in the quaking human, though it was snuffed out moments later. Yet it was still enough to lend him strength to speak out in a strangely strong voice.

“I don't believe you!”

The humans eyes remained closed, breathing still ragged but beginning to return to normal, fresh sweat lacing his body as the disturbed movement of his body continued to rack his form. A fresh wave of cackling belched from directly in front of the human, causing him to open his eyes only to find the same white bathroom, the voice still whispering from directly in front of him.

You don't have to believe me, just yourself.

The voice seemed to emanate from all around him on the last word, causing the man to visibly tremble and gulp in terror, eyes widening more and more, pupils dilating but voice still rising up, shakily to continue the hopeless mantra.

“Just a dream. Just a dream. Ju-”

The same voice purred from directly behind him, slicing into his own mantra and stopping it suddenly.

Don't believe me, eh? Why don't you see for yourself.

With that cold, malevolent voice came a greater feeling of power, of rushing adrenaline and pulsing muscles. Slowly, without the guidance of his own free will, the human began to jerkily march towards the sink and the mirror that lay above it, breathing now returned to its disjointed form, pupils pinpricks and sweat pouring off of him. Still he repeated the mantra to himself.

“Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dre-”

His own detached, creeping, stiff legged movements came to a halt directly before the mirror, the cold, grey eyes of the human peering at the ground, refusing to look at the mirror, a veil of fear descending upon him for an unknown reason. Whatever happened, whatever was yet to happen he knew clearly that he must not- no- could not set his eyes on that mirror.

The cold, serpentine and yet feline voice spoke up again in a seductive hiss, making the man’s flesh pimple and shiver.

Look upon yourself human and say again that this is a dream.

He closed his eyes tight, shaking his head slightly to clear these bad voices, these horrible visions.

Look.

He shook his head forcibly once more, refusing to acknowledge the voice fully, pinching his arm to force himself awake, only to experience the same sharp, piercing pain he would experience were he fully awake.

Looooook.

That voice, that deceitful, deceptive voice once more called to him, murmuring and speaking in a hushed whisper through his ears. The voice though, this time it was amplified, a thousand begging voices, a thousand voices asking, pleading with him to look up, to gaze into the mirror.

Those trickling thoughts permeated his brain, tendrils of longing seeping into his mind, forcing his head to rise upwards like steam from a kettle, eyes still forced shut as if the gorgon Medusa were in the room.

Looooooooooooook.

His eyelids peeked open a mere crack, blurs dancing across the surface of the mirror as the sweat continued to fall, as the heart continued to pump, as the breath continued to gasp. Twin eyelids burst open suddenly, as if pulled by some mysterious, otherworldly force, pushing the dismayed human into staring into the mirror. What he saw there caused the breath to choke in his throat and his body and mind to freeze as like ice.

There were no slate grey eyes, no thundercloud orbs, no twin pools of cold granite. Instead there were two twinkling, shining, illuminating, captivating golden eyes with crimson red pinpricks in the middle.

He wanted to back away, to run and flee, to bolt from the room. He wanted to wake up in his bed, the nightmare remembered as a joke he could relay to friends. He wanted to blink or to shudder or to even twitch but he was paralysed to the spot, eyes only capable of staring at themselves in the mirror, both captivated and alarmed by what they saw.

That is not all my friend. I have bestowed yet another gift on you.

That same voice, now almost smirking with undisguised glee, spoke once more, a strength and power from beyond the world forcing the humans lips to part and the second, horrible gift to be revealed.

A perfect, gleaming white set of teeth shone brightly from the gums and mouth of the man, sparkling slightly in the reflection of the mirror. The perfect image, the perfect smile was soon shattered like breaking glass however as the second gift bestowed by the hushed voice of the monster became clear.

A single, sharp, jutting, pointed, elongated tooth spiralled downwards from the front roof of his mouth, extending outside of the jawline to hang like a stalactite in the air, sharpened edge gleaming in the pale bathroom light.

The silent, still, almost serene atmosphere was torn apart and ripped to shreds as finally, finally, the human managed to regain control of his limbs. He began to stagger backwards, arms reaching up to grasp at his eyes and pull down his eyelids, to feel along the smooth edge of the new addition to his mouth. His hands continued to grapple and grope his face, his mouth opening and closing slowly, small squeaks escaping him before he began to mutter, quietly, tinged with agitation and fright.

“No, no, no, no, no.”

Laughter returned to the air, penetrating its musty, dark depths with stabs of sickening mirth and churning joy. The shadowy, darkened air swirled with fear and tension and disbelief, the man turning frail, feeble shades of white, new golden eyes widening, new tooth jutting out of his mouth as he opened it wide in a fierce rejection.

The first resounding slap echoed throughout the lonely apartment as the human slammed his palm against his face, causing a great red welt that only strengthened the thick laughter. The seconds slap punctured the air once more, producing the same effect and yet he did not wake up, the monstrous giggles only increasing. The third slap was followed by a high, mind shattering cry of 'no', splitting the air into segments and yet only empowering the laugh.

“No!” Crack

“No!” Thwack

“No!” Slam

Still he did not wake. Still the laughter went on. Still the night drove onwards. Still the slaps resounded until his face was a red mess. Still he refused to accept.

He was mad, insane, off the rocker.

And he was changing.

Once more that cold yet warm, seductive yet beastly voice danced around the air, the great breeze blasting once more through the open door, whipping his black hair around his face until it rested forward, shielding his eyes.

This, my friend, is only the beginning.

A/N: Well, I thought I'd try something a bit different this time instead of my usual Doctor Who stuff. This does have Discord in it, like my other fanfiction but I shall be portraying him in a more evil light here.

Anyway, hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is always welcome.

P.S This is my first Hie story, or near enough there, so don't expect this to be fantastic work.

The Third Gift

Warning: This chapter will contain scenes that involve blood and the effects of mental and physical torture (more mental then physical however)

A clip-clop of golden hooves.

A creak of an opening door.

The faint, smothered shifting of a rug.

The gentle rustle of bed covers moving apart.

The high groan of bed springs being moulded.

The soft, happy sigh of breath escaping worn, exhausted lips.

Celestia snuggled deeper into the magnificent, white duvet, red pillowed folds of her luxurious bed. Heavy eyelids slipping down and a content, fuzzy warmth wrapping around her body, sleep beckoning her with wide, open arms.

Still, still she had the uncomfortable, irritating feeling, the same feeling that had nagged and pestered and drilled into her mind since two long, yet joyous, weeks ago, two weeks since Discord had been re-installed into his stone cell.

Two weeks of celebration, ceremonies and parties that lasted through night and day, fireworks and noise-makers blasting through streets. Yet still the intense feeling of something forgotten, something that should never, ever have been forgotten, nagged and squawked at the back of her mind like a great, black bird.

Still, those pressing, almost urgent thoughts could wait. It was her time to rest, to relax and to allow her sister to command the night, it was not a time for worries and anxiety over a forgotten occurrence.

Crawling further into her form-absorbing bed, Celestia closed her eyes and let out a soft, quiet sigh as her body and mind drifted off to sleep almost immediately, previous thoughts and poking feelings forgotten in a second.

High, high above her.

High, high above the castle.

High, high above the air, within the clouds, two blazing, shining, golden eyes opened and peered downwards, hard malevolence and cold hatred burning and shifting through them. A monstrous, evil laugh split the air once before the eyes vanished and the wind began to pick up heavily, slamming hard against the white castle walls.

[.]

Gooey, hazy eyes opened lazily amidst the soft streaming sunlight that flickered through the light red curtain of the bedroom window, dappling the floor with a variety of oranges, yellows and reds. The rather faint light dazzled the sleepy, aching eyes of the man as he grumbled and turned himself over in his bed, hard springs poking into his side as he blurringly read the time written upon his bedside digital clock.

Ten in the morning, a rather, relaxing, carefree time where one would be able to simply sit back in bed, possibly watching the T.V before sleep could claim them again, snatching them up for another few hours. That would have been the case for the weary, tired man were it not for the drilling and hoarse, hard yelling of construction workers below his apartment, meticulously ruining his hopes of a much longer lay-in.

With a loud groan and a furious scrubbing of his aching eyes, the man rolled out of his poking, intrusive bed, his feet hitting the carpeted floor with a light thud that expelled some dust upwards, rising and then vanishing swiftly. With an irregular slouch, the exhausted, sleep-deprived human began to stumble across his room towards the bathroom, the door to the tiled room still wide open.

He got half way, half way across his room, half way to the bathroom before he stopped quite suddenly, feet tearing into the dirty rug like talons. His breath quickened rapidly as his eyes began to widen, hands clenching and unclenching in no particular order as a swirling mass of memories began to return.

Golden eyes.

A fanged tooth.

Cold laughter.

Whispering voices.

But it couldn't be real, could it? A dream, hallucination, brought on by the medication that was currently waiting inside of the bathroom cabinet. He had to look, had to be sure. He must.

He did not wish to go back to that white tiled, crust infested room, where it had happened, or where he had thought it had happened. It felt dirty, cursed, unnatural. It felt like a place on this Earth that simply should not be, an area where normalcy would be abandoned for insanity. It felt wrong, demonic even.

It felt like the place where one would go only as a last resort, only if there were no where left to go. It was like a creaking attic, a dark, dusty basement or an empty, lonely spare bedroom. It felt like the type of place that should be left alone, alone until someone was with him, alone until he truly, desperately needed it.

That disturbed, unexplainable evil feeling was only heightened when the human stole a glance at the bathroom door, only to find it firmly shut where it had once been wide open.

His grey- or was it golden? - eyes boggled in his head as he took in the sight of the notched wooden door clicked shut tightly against the wall. Had he been hallucinating again? Was he merely seeing things?

He was shaking now, quivering half naked on the rug like some belittled boy told off by his mother, eyes staring and mouth closed, tight lips pressing against each other to pale the skin. With a forced, heavy series of steps he moved forward to the closed door, bracing his nerves and drowning his fears beneath a hard exterior, refusing to be scared into silence and stillness by the merest memory of a bad dream and a once opened door.

He stoutly and durably grasped the gleaming golden door handle with one now still hand, breathing slowly restoring to normal as he began to relax a bit more, convincing himself that he merely mistook the door for open, that it was nothing supernatural, nothing paranormal. Opening the door and finding the room tidy, finding his body well and un-altered would be the last step for him, the last step towards him resuming his life of commonality.

With a great twist and a solid push, the door swung open, revealing the gleaming yet dank bathroom, white tiles, rotting bathtub, shining toilet, swirling sink and glass cabinet all revealed as swiftly as pulling out a splinter.

The room was as regular, bland and boring as it was the morning before, dripping sink, swollen bathtub, solid toilet, snow white tiles and sparkling cabinet all correctly placed, all in states of prevalence.

He let out a deep, grateful breath that he did not realise he had been been keeping, slouching slightly, shoulders sinking down in a physical sign of great relief. Beneath that hard, strong exterior had lain a profound, unsettling nervousness that had told him to chew nails, to bite lips and to refuse entrance into that room.

Only one thing remained now, the one thing that would restore his mind to a state where he would not fret and worry, where he could move about his house freely, without fear. It was time to face the mirror and whatever creature it may reflect.

With a small, almost unnoticeable spring in his step, he began to head towards the mirror, barely containing a smile as relief swept through his body, vanquishing nearly all fears.

Nearly.

As he drew closer and closer to the rapidly expanding mirror, as a hazy, distorted reflection began to make itself known, creeping thoughts of dread began to seep into his brain. Thoughts of horror, thoughts of memories, thoughts of golden eyes, sharpened teeth, hard cackles, malicious voices began to sink into his mind, nearly paralysing his feet. It was, to all purposes, as if that mirror heralded something awful, something that his mind, his sixth sense, did not wish him to see.

The trembling returned to his limbs but he refused to stop, denied the showing of weakness, even if he was the only one living soul in the apartment. The only living soul.

He passed the mirror, facing to the side of it, eyes locked on the taunting bathtub at the end of the room, sight disagreeing with body to gaze at the mirror, fear intermingling with the mind. Out of the corner of his eye he could faintly see his reflection, a black haired, stubble chinned man with large ears, a small nose and a fairly average upper body. The eyes and the mouth though remained hidden, his limited vision not fully encompassing the finer details of the reflective surface.

With a shaky, uneven breath he turned to face the mirror, half hoping for his regular appearance, half fearing what may stare back at him.

Nothing had changed, nothing. Not since last night. The same doorknob gold and blood red eyes stared back at him, the same jutting, razor tooth extending from his mouth seemingly glaring at him, twinkling in the refreshing sunlight that had now turned into the harbinger of horror.

He stood like a crumbling statue for a number of seconds, merely blankly staring at the reflection that stared back at him, eyes still, heart still, mouth still. Even his mind had fallen silent, eerie emptiness overpowering all of his senses until all that remained was a lifeless husk. Soon though, soon that husk was replaced by a man born of fear and repulsion, of horror and sickness.

With no mind, no sanity, no thought he fled the bathroom, the door still hanging open as he bolted through it, eyes wide and sparkling with tears, heart slamming in his chest, the cold sweat of fear lacing his brow and his mouth set in a grim line. He continued to pump his legs furiously, crossing his bedroom in a manner of seconds to throw open the white, pristine looking door that led to the only other room in his apartment, the lounge.

Behind him, the bathroom door slammed shut with a bang.

He couldn't stop the high shriek that escaped him when he heard the door behind him crash closed, nor could he stop his limbs from shaking and his bladder from emptying slightly when he felt a strong, harsh breeze blow over his back. What he could control however, was his legs and how fast they could run.

His lounge floor was coated in a mottled beige and red carpet, smooth yellow, peeling wallpaper sliding along the walls like a serpent. A selection of desks and chairs stood to one side like watching owls, a tiny kitchen on the opposite side gleamed in a metallic light. In the middle of the room stood a simple, two person, old, stuffing streaming orange sofa with deep stains coating its front, facing towards the complexion of a dark black T.V.

He dashed along the soft, waving carpet with a mindless urge to get out, to escape from whatever lurked in his home for if he had changed during the night, if that were real, then it meant that whatever had changed him was also real. And that scared him more then his own appearance.

He made it halfway across the room, the same length as his bedroom crossing, before he stopped, not of his own accord though. His legs felt frozen, his body and mind felt like lead as if he had been covered in a weighted, metal coat that smothered and repressed his form. He felt, in nearly all manners, like a statue in a garden.

He was moving backwards now, dragged yet not dragged along the rough but smooth carpet, scared but silent, nervous but calm. It was like he had no voice to speak with, no mind to think with, no body to use. Something else was in control now, something dark and sinister, something that had snuck into his life a while ago and had been pulling at his strings for a long, long time. And yet he didn't worry, he had no need to. Nor did her feel scared, depressed, happy or anxious. He felt nothing.

The soft click of the T.V remote drew him back to reality as emotions began to once more flood his body, horror and fear and terrible, terrible woe that made him want to scream and sob. Yet he couldn't, body still frozen but mind able to carry on.

The T.V was on now, a gentle flicking of the remote beside the table, a caress of the plastic buttons the only indication towards any movement. Soon enough, the T.V turned onto a show and remained that way, a show with bright colours and talking animals, with great white castles and a large, brown and green leaf mottled tree.

All of that fear, all of that horror and terror were sealed tight inside his own body like a boiling broth that threatened to spill over as the T.V continued to blare and as a loud, sweep of air burst over him, showering him and making his body reflexly shiver.

My, my, my. Running now were we?

Never had a laughing, chuckling, humour-filled voice sounded so evil, so atrocious. A thousand harsh whispers born from the confines of hell condensed into one, single tone. The voice from last night, from his nightmares spoke up once more, patronizing and sickening.

Did you really think it would be that easy?

He felt his body moving again, desperation and a heavy, hefty exhaustion chilling his bones as he touched the soft, giving body of the sofa, as whatever monstrous entity set him down before the T.V, gloating with its power whilst the human merely watched on, as if a stranger watching his own body.

Come now, speak up.

A great unsettling feeling of restoration took over the unfortunate man, his limbs losing their numb sense, his mind regaining control, his eyes zipping around the room and his mouth opening to take a deep, terrified breath.

I said, speak up!

The freezing anger in the once purring, seductive, mischievous voice made the man wobble violently, limbs begging to be free and run but mind offering a warning. That voice though, that dark, monstrous, beastly voice full of anger and rage made tears of despair spring to his eyes to trickle down his face, silent sobs racking the man's body.

Pathetic.

The disgust in the paranormal, spectral voice silenced the man's tears and stopped their torrent falling, his mind pulsing with anger as it had done the previous night. This time though, this time he grasped that anger and didn't let it go, this time he used it to speak, not to cower. His own voice was high and shrill, anger and fear cracking his once masculine voice.

“What do you want?”

The hissing voice of the spiritual creature was replaced by a deep chuckle that chilled the air.

Now that's more like it. Why I want what everyone wants deep down, to spread a little chaos.

The evil in that voice, the undisguised hate and loathing nearly made the human stop and freeze but he pushed forward, gripping the diminishing ball of anger like it was his lifeline.

“What do you want with me?”

Well Jonathan-

“How do you know my name!?”

Now the terror truly began to set in, his mind's control over his body snapping as he rose to his feet to flee, to run through the front door and to never, ever return. Just as he turned to move, as he put one foot down first a great, powerful smash of wind tore through his apartment, sending pens and paper from his desks flying and sending every cupboard in the kitchen careening open.

I wouldn't do that if I were you. You wouldn't even make it one step. Now sit down.

The command in that voice, the order of power and strength, the signs of a control that could command armies, forced Jonathan to immediately slam himself back down onto the sofa with a soft thump, a slight uptake of dust and a few sparkling, worried tears dancing upwards around him.

Good, good. Now, where were we? Ah yes, you see Jonathan I want you for a very specific purpose. Revenge. Please, my friend, direct your attention to the screen.

Eyes streaming and shedding horrified tears, Jonathan turned his head sharply and disjointedly to stare fully at the screen, taking in the noise and the colour and the peculiar, equine characters. He did not pay attention though, he could not pay attention. Once he had been a logical man, a man of science and a man who disputed the existence of God and of ghosts but now, now when he truly needed it he was desperately, hopelessly praying to a deity, any deity to save him from the thrall of the monster.

What do you see?

That same jerky, catastrophic voice spoke up again, hot air washing over the nape of his neck but he didn't hear it. He was too far gone down the path of shock, too far gone down the path of deep dismay. Too far gone down a path that closed behind him, sealing off his only exit.

There is nothing to fear but fear itself. That quote sprang to his mind but was quickly washed away. There was no man, women or child on this Earth that could go through this horror, this disaster and return safe and sound, happy and care-free. Fear is bred from bumps in the night, whispers in the dark and tales of ghosts and ghouls and spectres. Fear itself manifested into whatever it wanted and right now, it was the smothering, shadowed voice of the monster and the horrible atmosphere it brought with it, an atmosphere of malevolence and violence, of the darkest aspects of life.

Without warning, a swift but dull blow to the back of his head snapped Jonathan out of his trance, sending him sprawling to the floor, eyes wide and nose streaming as he felt a, first gentle but then strong, force push down on his neck like a heavy foot.

What do you see?

He sobbed. Unrestrainedly. There is only so much one can take, only so much one can bear before they snap. This man, Jonathan's, breaking point had been reached and shattered into a thousand shards that cut deep into him. His nose bubbled, his eyes streamed, his breath rasped, his body shuddered and his heart hammered like a four-beat drum.

The pressure on his neck increased, partially crushing his wind-pipe and making him choke and splutter, eyes popping open in pain and panic as the voice once more picked up.

What. Do. You. See?

Jonathan turned his head somewhat, consternation lending him strength and the threat of dying forcing his neck to creak around until his eyes rested on the flickering T.V, before he blurted out a single, cough ridden, sore, tear choked word.

“P-ponies.”

The intense, compressing pressure eased in strength, allowing Jonathan to draw in a deep breath that soon turned into a cough, his wind-pipe squeezed and his voice choked with fat tears.

Good, what are they doing?

He blinked back thick tears from his eyes, feeling the course down his face and pool along the carpet floor, soaking into his left cheek as he gazed with alarm and confusion at the T.V once more, speaking up in a raspy, broken voice.

“They're...they're turning s-s-something to sto-one.”

The near bone-crushing tension remained the same but along the traces of the air came a feel of disguised anger and hidden rage, a deep pant filling the musty room.

And, what is it they are turning to stone?

Jonathan tried to speak but ended up gurgling slightly, phlegm rising up in his throat before he cleared it and spoke in the same broken, twisted voice.

“I...I don't k-kno-w-w.”

The stress on his throat increased, forcing him to gag as the voice spoke up once more, hot breath tingling his face and staining his nose with the smell of cotton candy and decay.

You have never heard of the God they imprisoned?

He couldn't speak, couldn't breath. He was defenceless, light fading, flickering and blackness engulfing him, tears falling harder then ever as he felt his life slip away.

Terror. Sheer animalistic terror coursed through him as he felt his end draw nigh, as the sun's shine dimmed, as the shadowed gathered around the corner of his eyes. As he tried, once more, to pray or call out to a deity, any deity to save him.

All of a sudden, the pressure was relinquished and withdrew entirely, allowing Jonathan to draw in breath with an explosive force.

He gagged, coughed, choked and wheezed for nearly a minute, struggling to breath through his squashed oesophagus and drowning tears. That voice spoke up again, anger and rage vanished as if they were never there, replaced by the feline, yet serpentine, hiss of the mischief, joking tones.

Oh my, this is too much fun. You are quite the...sport.

Jonathan quivered on all fours like a mongrel shaking in the rain, legs shivering, eyes plopping tears of pain and distress onto the nearly soaked carpet, coughs racing up his body as he choked out a single, irregular, frightened sentence.

“W-w-why m...me?”

The voice that returned to his ears was surprisingly jubilant and happy, as if the previous session of torment and horror had never occurred.

Because someone had to be picked and the rules of Eeny-Meanie-Miney-Mo chose the task for you.

Jonathan coughed and retched, raising himself onto one knee as he rubbed at his throat, pools of tears engulfing his face.

“I-I was pi...picked because o-of a children's r-rhyme?”

The hard kick to his ribs sent Jonathan flying into the T.V, which shattered and sparked on impact as he wrapped his arms around his body, sobbing in horrible pain as the bruising and the splinters of glass began to torture his body.

It is NO children's rhyme! I made it, created it and you, you will respect that!

He could only continue his sobbing, jerking his head slightly in what appeared to be a nod. The voice hissed once again, feelings blanked like a clean slate.

Now, back to it. Those ponies you saw there, on that T.V, they are real. Real as me, real as you. They imprisoned me. ME! But it's ok, because I have something they could never, never have.

The cold feeling of dread intermingled with the torturous pain in his body as Jonathan listened carefully, still weeping and clutching himself but now hanging on every word as if his life depended on it, which it may do.

How quickly his life had turned around, how quickly one gives into the highest power, the unforeseeable evil. Here he was, curled on the floor, bleeding, sobbing all because of an invisible spectre.

I have a host. A fresh, new body from which I can not only gain their trust, their friendship, but a body that I can make my own.

Those words, words of horror spoken with a clarity and a finality that lingered on the idea that this was what was going to happen, not what may or what might, pierced the human to his very core like a needle, injecting him with liquid fear yet he could not voice his concerns, he could only watch as his own tears fell, as his nose bubbled, as his heart hammered, sweat smeared and body was racked with convulsions.

Jonathan stirred, untangling himself, wincing and muffling a groan as the pain threatened to engulf him. The tears dried on his face, too many shed already for his body to make any more as he listened to the voice that whispered from everywhere and anywhere.

That is your job, Jonathan. You are my host, my new body. I will bestow a gift upon you like no other. You will become me and I will overturn you.

He feebly struggled forward on his hands and knees, flopping to the ground within mere seconds as the horrible, hardening strain on his body picked up, forcing his limbs to simply stop. He rasped up in a voice that was filled to the brim with fear.

“W-w-why not just tur-n-n-n me n-n-now? Why d-drag it o-out?”

That invisible, encompassing voice returned, sparkling with mirth and sadistic joy.

Because, Jonathan, I like to see you squirm and scream, weep and fear. It is a most exquisite, delicious meal for me...

Evil. That was the only logical, informative, true name for the voice that had spoken and the statement it had whispered. Evil. A dark evil that would not cease, an evil that had diseased and bubbled for a long time. An evil that was like nothing else on the Earth.

Now, back to it.

Jonathan shook, heart pounding and drumming, sweat mingling with tears and blood, new, golden eyes widening and head shaking from side to side as he mouthed a single word over and over again.

I will turn you into me, over time. First your body and then your mind will succumb to me. I will send you far, far away to my...home. That will be my third gift of many.

Gift. Burden. The words melded together in his dazed, shattered, pained and seething mind.

Whilst you are still in control you will befriend those around you, you will make them love you.

Jonathan shook his head more vigorously, closing his eyes to try and blot out the horrid plan, the scheme of the monster that had haunted him for too, too long.

And then, my friend, you will betray them.

A/N: I took a darker route with this chapter because I wanted people to truly feel that Discord was a dark, sinister character instead of the bubble-gum villain many see him as. Due to that, I added in some violence but mostly mental torment.

Not sure if I did well with this chapter, that's for you to decide. I hope I did well because I would hate to disappoint some people. I am really grateful for all the support I've received so far, 78 favourites in little over a day but I would like to hear your honest opinion on this chapter so that I can either continue what I'm doing if it feels right or alter my chapters to fit a stricter regime that will work better for this story.

Anyway, enjoy.

Sanity Cracking

The word he had whispered, he had formed and he had thought flowed from his throat like the rushing of a tidal wave, ringing around the seemingly empty but trashed apartment like a freight train.

“No, no, no, no, no!”

That cold, hard, seductive and yet offending voice chuckled loudly, belching and spitting out a horrid laugh that destroyed Jonathan's mantra in seconds, silencing the human with ease.

You think you have a choice in the matter, Jonathan my dear? Oh, it has already begun, there is no stopping it now.

Jonathan began to crawl, shards of glass stabbing into his hands, blood welling along the floor but he didn't care. All that mattered was out, out of this nightmare, out of this horror show, out of this sick, twisted world that spoke of only pain and suffering and hidden monsters.

He got only a few feet to the front door, the tears now falling thickly once more, nose dribbling and sweat and blood intermingling before he was yanked backwards with a horrified scream that punctured the still air.

He slammed hard into the wooden back of the sofa, sliding down it to rest on the floor, head bowed down onto his chest which rose and fell jaggedly, tears dripping off the end of his nose.

His scream of terror and pain, of twisted limbs and a tortured mind must have attracted some attention for just as he gave up, just as he succumbed to the horrible realization that this was it, that he would surely die here, alone and yet with the company of a monster, faint footsteps began to echo outside of his apartment.

Silence. Dead silence filled his destroyed, desecrated room as the footsteps grew closer and closer, Jonathan lifting his head to stare hopefully at the door, mind pushing the worries of the unfortunate silence to the back of his mind.

The footsteps stopped quite suddenly, leaving a dense trail of sound that issued from the outside of his door before the white, smeared wooden front door began to groan and shriek open, the sound spinning around the apartment.

A thin, frail elderly women with greying, twisted hair, a deep wrinkled face and concealing black glasses peered into the room, her overly large dress pooling around the floor with its multiple shades of green.

As her gaze swept around the room, as she began to tremble and quiver at the chaos and the destruction she saw, a cold wind bellowed from the bathroom, smashing though the bedroom door and barrelled straight towards the old woman.

Jonathan felt it, the merest traces of the crushing power as it whistled past him, raising his head higher to call out a warning but it was simply too late.

The last he saw of the women, the last he saw of the last human being he would see was a whipping dress and exposed ankles as she was sent careering out of the doorway to land somewhere with a sickening, bone-crunching thud that made him shiver in revulsion, bile rising in his throat at the awful sound.

The front door slammed shut with a resounding crack, last true traces of hope fleeing the destroyed human as he watched his one area of salvation close with a click.

The voice spoke up once more, in an aggravated tone now, displeased but not truly angered, just irritated.

You really want to leave that much, eh? Well, I'll grant you that wish if you ask it of me.

Jonathan forced his head back upwards, bruises already forming along his skin, blood sluggishly oozing out of his numerous lacerations as he shakily, very shakily and with a fear and a torture that spoke of the darkest horrors, the worst experiences, spoke up in a destroyed voice.

“Let me...l-”

Pardon?

Once more, more strongly he spoke up, wincing as his own voice scraped against his wounded throat, forcing him to stutter.

“L-let me leav-”

What was that?

Jonathan shuddered, tears leaking out of his eyes as he closed them, speaking up in a strong voice that tore his throat like a bears claws.

“Let. Me. Leave.”

The soft chuckling returned before it morphed once more into full blown cackles that tore apart the house, pens and paper, pottery and pans, cutlery and crockery flying around the room as if alive, smashing and crashing into each other.

Soon enough the laughter died down, the objects hitting the floor with metallic thuds, hard bangs and resounding gongs as the force upon them was relinquished. Silence enveloped the room, total and utter silence that allowed Jonathan to hear his heart beat loudly before a soft, whispering voice spoke up in front of him, filled with unrestrained malice, unquestionable hate and a dark, stinking evil that dispelled any ideas of kindness or charity, hope or reason.

His sanity bordered on fleeing as he listened closely to what the voice had to say.

Remember me Jonathan, remember what I can do, where your allegiances belong. Remember my gifts, my guiding hand. Remember my wrath and the pain you feel, for if you go against me, if you attempt to double cross me, I will eradicate you and every creature around you from the face of the planet...

...I have waited far, far too long for this. Thousands upon thousands of years trapped in desolate cold, it really puts things into perspective. My patience is already worn thin and taut, do not attempt to ripple the pond, my friend, lest you wake the big fishes...

...Remember me, for my name is Discord, God of Chaos, Lord of Mischief and soon to be ruler of the world. A thousand years, burdened on your shoulders. I will be with you Jonathan, I will see what you see. I pray you do not fail me, for your own sake...

...and now, as for your wish, here you go. You are going to be going now, just not somewhere you would like to be. Goodbye my dear, or rather, arrivederci!

Jonathan rested his head down, tears falling harder and faster then ever, the malice and the hate freezing his blood, chilling his core and his soul. The breath hitched in his throat, a lump of icy fear settling in his stomach as sweat began to dance across his face, his eyes opening to gaze at the destroyed remains of his home for what he believed to be the very last time. Inside, he felt such pain, not from his injuries but from his fear and his shock and his uttermost failure at freeing himself, at emerging victorious.

His world was crashing and right now, inside of his body, he was crashing too. His heart was beating slower and slower now, as if slowing down after a mile long jog, only to keep slowing and slowing and slowing like car on its last legs.

The light dazzled his eyes but he no longer cared, his aching body and destroyed mind only intent on witnessing the sun, his apartment and himself for one last time.

Even that was denied.

Just as his eyes began to roam, to watch and to experience his last joys, a ghostly, monstrous, mismatched figure sprang towards him, simply appearing from the air itself and leaping towards Jonathan's limp body. The outline of the beast was a faded white colour, the inside was merely a fizzling, almost heat-smear-esque fuzzy image that wobbled and vibrated.

He didn't have time to scream, nor to flinch, nor to jump, nor to distinguish what it was that leapt at him or even whisper a final, dead pray to the air before the sudden, hidden, misty beast lunged towards him and enveloped him in a hearty embrace, sinking deeply into Jonathan, filling him with a burning sensation like molten lead being poured through his body. The foggy, shifting, cloudy monster sank into him, deeper and deeper until the last wisp of white smoke vanished, Jonathan's eyes suddenly sinking lower and lower as a strong, powerful feeling of exhaustion settled upon him.

He tried to rise up, to flee and finally, finally leave the room and the madness it contained but something, a nagging, abusive voice in the very corner of his mind told him to stop, to lay down, to sleep and to accept his fate. To give in, to submit to the drowsiness and to give up on all hopes of being free.

Somewhere in his mind Jonathan realized he should care, he should fight back.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

Nowhere was safe now, his last sanctuary, his last, great stronghold had been taken and bent to its evil will.

It was in his mind and it could see him like it had never seen him before. And he could see it.

And it was terrible.

His eyes closed with a resounding slick, his mind whirring down and down, his body letting out a deep, pent-up breath. The sweat cooled on his skin, the blood crusted, the mouth hung loose and limp. The first bunged up, rattling snore escaped him.

Followed by the sound of malicious laughter.

[.]

Celestia woke with a rapid pant, body bolting upwards, wings exploding outwards, horn blazing yellow light and skin covered in a glistening sheen of sweat as she cast her nervous gaze around her still darkened bedroom.

Soft moonlight coated her room in a faint, feathery white glow that barely illuminated anything at all, instead casting deeper shadows across every single piece of furniture.

She inspected her room meticulously, eyes roaming from her writing desk, to her rather large, rather obnoxious wardrobe, to her bathroom door, to her bedside table.

It was a quaint room, the solar ruler wanting nothing more then a nice cosy room to relax in without the constant reminder of her duties. She had chosen only the most humble furniture, apart from her wardrobe which one Rarity insisted was a must have, to make sure she did not grow too egotistical, to remind her guards and sometimes herself that she was not above them.

She had been woken by what she thought had been cold laughter, a laugh that she recognised all to well. He was in the garden though, collecting bird droppings and standing tall over the foliage of her beloved castle plantation. He could not be here, not now. Not ever again.

She had seen it, last time, in his golden eyes that once sparkled with soft mirth. Something in him had broken, something that could not be replaced. She had thought that perhaps she were mistaken, when he had not killed, nor injured any creature but one look at his horrified statue, the terror on his face had changed that.

Discord was never scared, never. Which led to only one conclusion.

He was acting, but why?

Celestia allowed herself a sigh of both relief and weariness, having finished her inspection of her room and finding nothing, no signs of danger or entry but also having that draconequus on her mind for too, too long. He was a bad penny, always showing up where he was not needed, where he was most invaluable.

She sighed once more, a sound born of exhaustion and interrupted sleep, convincing herself that the matter at hoof could wait till morning, that her sleep was needed in order to remain fresh, brisk and caring for her beloved country.

She resorted to hiding back under her soft duvet, pulling it above her body as she slid back down into the heated depths of her her bed with a gentle pull of faint yellow magic. She sighed slightly, feeling the warmth of the blanket wrap around her, feeling her head mould into the pillows, feeling her wings laying limply at her sides.

Feeling the gentle dribble of some cold, viscous liquid settle and dampen the coat of her back.

Feeling the faint, warm, squishy body of something laying beside her.

Her eyes that had once begun to close, her mind that had once begun to shut down again, her body that had begun to surrender to the warmth again was suddenly flooded with an icy feeling of panic and fear as she felt the faintest ticklings of breath beside her neck, as she heard the raucous snores behind her, as she felt the strange liquid around her beginning to harden and crust.

Slowly, whilst berating herself on not checking her own bed, Celestia began to pull herself out of the hot, humid bed to land on her rugged floor with a soft, faint thud, bare hooves barely making a sound on the smothering tendrils of her carpet.

She turned slowly so as not to draw any attention to herself, not to create any noises or to move too fast and to wake up her guest, if guest was the suitable word.

What she saw when she turned around caused the breath to hitch and choke in her royal throat.

There was something laying concealed beneath her covers, folded into the white blanket so that only the head and neck were visible. Beneath the bed, a faint rising and falling motion clearly indicated that whatever this creature was, it was breathing quite jaggedly.

It was unlike anything she had seen before. The squished, flat, pale pink face with only a small bump for a snout seemed to peer upwards, eyelids folded tightly closed. The things ears seemed much to large for its body, fleshy orbs hanging from the side of its head like jewels. A thin pair of red looking lips, cracked and dry, erupted from its face. A mop of black, scraggly, partially greasy hair lay strewn around its head, balanced on one of her fine pillows like a surrounding halo. Now she could see what was coating her body and her bed, slimy and wet liquid dotted around her once pristine, perfect bed.

Deep, red blood.

Its mouth was firmly closed but she could still see it, sparkling in the white moonshine. The jagged snaggletooth.

This alone caused Celestia to draw in a deep, shaky breath as memories of an old foe sprang to her mind, dancing and jaunting along her conscious.

The sound seemed to rile the strange, slumbering beast that had somehow managed to sneak into her room and, instead of opting to attack or to participate in anything else, fallen asleep in her bed next to her. It shivered slightly before it turned to face her, snores still rumbling, body still asleep but eyes flickering open for the merest of seconds, a bodily reaction to the sudden noise.

Glimmering, golden eyes with streaming, blood red pupils stared into magenta, caring, soft but scared orbs for a single, split second before the confusing beast settled itself more deeply into the bed, eyes falling shut and breath rasping out in a loud snore.

The Princess of the Sun, ruler of Equestria and Goddess of the Day could only stare at the creature in thick volumes of fear and shock, those golden eyes that had sparkled in the creatures eyes had been the same ones that had shimmered in the eyes of her oldest, darkest foe.

And that terrified her.

She went to turn, to bolt, as the unfortunate human laying in her bed had attempted mere minutes ago, and to flee her room and find her guards, her sister, the Elements of Harmony. Anypony who could help her.

Careless, reckless movements led her to stumble on the rug, hooves clipping the very edges and sending her spiralling forward, eyes manically wide and heart thumping, straight into one of her shining, oak desktop tables.

Paper and quills flew as the table overturned itself under her great Alicorn form, ink bottles sent whizzing through the air to collide with the ground with numerous sharp, slapping, snapping sounds of breaking glass and shattering substance. The heavy crash of the table hitting the floor, the sound of oak against the hard stone floor left uncovered by the rug, roused the duo of guards stationed below her spiralling staircase, the pair springing to attention and beginning their ascension upwards.

Celestia stood still, balance regained shortly after her hard collision, for a second that seemed to drag on for an hour, cursing herself, her clumsiness and the way even her breathing seemed to be loud and vibrant. She shivered, turning her head back to face the stranger that lay in her bed, eyes afraid of the possible chaotic monster and legs quivering beneath her.

Her eyes met the pure, golden ones of the now fully awake being, magenta eyes full of fear battling with golden eyes full of confusion, pain and similar fear.

The pair stared at each other, the twin guards still bolting up the long, cold, hard stairs, armour rattling and clanking in a way that simulated machinery, creaking and groaning as the Princess and the tortured victim continued to look into each other's eyes.

Celestia relaxed slightly, the look of intensive terror on the face of her mysterious guest was enough to convince her that he meant her no harm, that he was scared and confused, in pain and alone. His body shook forcefully, his eyes were wide, his skin a pale, sickly white, steam sticking his hair to his scalp, mouth set in a cold, white line and stubby, pudgy hands gripping the sheets of the bed, his entire lower form form the neck down still encased in the duvet.

And then he shivered violently as a mighty blast of air tore into the room.

Celestia watched in amazement and morbid fascination as the strange creatures eyes flashed with terrified panic, as its breath deepened, its hands clenched, its pale skin shimmered and its mouth opened up in a silent scream, not of pain but of unbearable fear. His hair flapped in the wind, the duvet floundered and the room was filled with an awful roar of air that drowned out the sound of the guards.

And then it fell silent as the creature spoke up in a timid, confused, beaten and broken voice, body and mind failing as the minutes of terror, of pain and haunting finally caught up to him, enveloping him in the sickly arms of unconsciousness.

“Help me.”

A/N: Two chapters in one day? Damn.

First things first, the reason Jon did not freak out when he met Celestia, instead opting to ask for help instead of screaming is because for him, at the moment, things cannot get much worse.

Ok, good. Now, what do you think. Too soon into Equestria? Shouldn't have met Celestia like that because it happens a lot?

Well, the reason I put him in Eq now is so that he can develop a good characterization and friendship with the ponies for the grand finale. I probably should have included a bit more about him speaking with fellow humans but I didn't want to force it. And about him waking up in Celly's bed, I thought that would be something Discord would do for the giggles. Also, he fainted not because I wanted it to follow every other HiE story but because he has been through enough crap today.

Enjoy, constructive criticism is welcome and I really hope I haven't let anyone down.

Delirium

The heavy, clanking, screech of metal armour grinding against each other.

The loud thunder of hooves against cold marble floor.

The sounds of strained breath and forced pace.

The gentle shuffle of a poorly perched object upon a thick furred back.

The soft rustle of double wings against rushing wind.

Celestia and her twin, golden armour clad guards raced down the winding, thin corridors of Canterlot Castle, all three panting heavily but all three refusing to slow their pace. Upon the back of one of the grey furred, blue eyed, golden armoured stallions rested a weary and fever fatigued human, dank, sweaty hair clinging to his brow and skin ghostly pale, body violently shaking.

The moon was still up, the stars still out, the night still Luna's precious domain but all of that, the night, the moon, the stars were blanked out and hidden by the vast, rising white marble walls of the great castle as the three ponies and one unconscious human barrelled down the slender hallways, rousing servants and waking guests with their heavy hoof-falls.

At first, after the strange and spooky creature had dead fainted, Celestia had merely looked at it with trepidation and worry, scared for herself more then it, the golden eyes frightening her like nothing before but all that had changed when the mysterious beast had begun to convulse on the floor, gurgling and jerking its limbs around frantically.

A thousand years of motherly care, safeguarding and protection had sprung into action and, when her guards had bustled into the room moments later, spears at the ready, she had swiftly asked them to pick up the “guest” and follow her to the medical area, where it could be treated for whatever ailed it.

That was where she and the two other guards were headed now, the usual brisk stamina of the guards worn down by the weight of heavy armour and the unexpected guest but still able to keep up with the speeding Princess.

Paintings of great battles, honourable families and beautiful scenery flashed by as the trio of heftily panting ponies forced themselves faster and faster down the narrow passages, nearly knocking into guests, tables, heirlooms and once, in Celestia's honest belief, her own sister Luna who had looked distinctly shocked by the three, fast-paced blurs that had rocketed past her.

They turned a sharp corner, hooves skidding along flat, white marble floors, armour crashing into armour, moaning human nearly sent flying from the back of the guard and Celestia herself nearly colliding with the wall before they all regained their balance, the guard forcefully moving the dazed, sick human into a tighter position on his back. Before them, just down the corridor stood a simple, brown, wooden door with a red cross above it, labelled below were the simple words:

Canterlot Castle Infirmary

In the blink of an eye the three were at the end of the corridor, past the table brimming with various potted plants, past the vivid painting of Celestia raising the sun, past the stained glass window depicting a ruthless battle with the Griffon Empire, white moonlight shining through the window to stain the floor with a colourful glow.

In the blink of an eye they had reached the door, just as the babbling started.

It was quiet at first, barely drawing the attention of the guard that the odd creature resided on but soon it increased in volume, making Celestia pause just as she raised a hoof to push through the door, instead whirling around to face the shrill, maddening monster with the golden eyes.

“Equines, ponies, ponies. Yes, yes, yes he said, he said. Ponies, equines...”

The creature was awake now, or at least appeared to be, both its eyes were wide open, golden orbs rolling around its sockets as if searching for something, as if yearning for something. A small, pale, twisted smile splayed across its face, insanity practically frothing forth from the small gesture, making Celestia's whole form shudder at the abysmal sight of the poor beast. Sweat still clung heavily to its body, soaking into the unfortunate but silent guard, hands clenching rapidly and hair whipping around its head as it turned rapidly to observe the corridor, neck creaking.

“Ponies, horse, wings, horn, golden, shiny, shiny golden eyes. Shiny...shiny...golden..eyes”

The creatures voice diminished towards the end, horrible humour, shrill tones and insane voice leaking outwards as the noise fell silent, the complexion of the beast now bent on one single, spinning, catastrophic, devilish, sickening emotion.

Cold, hard fear.

That same voice spoke up, ushered from the mouth of the now terrified creature, high tones silent and replaced by deeper ones, eyes no longer manic but pitched straight down the hallway as if it could see something they could not, smile replaced by a grizzled slash of lips.

“Eyes, burning, teeth, snapping. Pain, fear, discord, cha-”

She could take no more, less it burn her from the inside out. The horrid, high now deep, mirth filled now horrified, insane now terrified voice was drilling into her soul, tearing beneath her skin and screeching in her heart.

Worry and fear pitched a harsh battle within her soul, intense worry for the abused, destroyed and broken creature oozing out of her, telling- no- demanding her to help, to comfort and to soothe. It hurt her, pierced her deeply to see any creature in such a way, torn from the inside out because of the sheer, undeniable fact that there was simply nothing she could do to help.

Physical injuries she could heal and, whilst this creature had many, they were not the main cause of alarm here. It was the look in its eyes, of dark terrors and something shadowed and monstrous, something that had broken it down.

Then there was the fear that, once flattened, had sprung up again with the merest mention of his name, the merest tell-tale signs of something dark and hideous. The word was not merely used to describe him, the mismatched God of Chaos but he had adopted it as his own long, long ago, the name fitting him perfectly like a noose on a criminal.

Celestia could not remember the last time she had felt fear like this. When he had broken out last she had convinced herself that what she saw of him had not changed, that he was still only the mischievous creature she wanted him to be and even when he had been imprisoned and she had seen how he truly was, a shell of the creature she once saw, she had not worried herself too much because how could he do anything, trapped in stone?

But now, now something was happening, now fear was taking form and reason was fleeing. Celestia was scared for her subjects and herself, a dangerous mixture.

She silenced the mumbling, feared creature by simply smashing the door open with one of her front hooves, the wizened wood slamming into the white marble with a force that seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle.

The infirmary was quiet, not a single soul living or even laying in its depths apart from one tired, weary looking unicorn sitting at the back of the long room reading a book, beds lining the sides and curtains hiding each would-be patient.

A faint yellow lamp cast soft tufts of orange and red light around the room, throwing shadows along the numerous beds and igniting the area around it with a blazing display of illumination. The unicorn had since moved up, startled from his book by the sudden noise of the door smashing open, hooves clopping along the floor briskly, eyes wide as he took in the trio of ponies, eyes locked onto Celestia's with worry, both for her safety and for his job.

The guards and the Solar Princess moved forward to meet the doctor in the middle of the infirmary, lights flickering along the edges of the beige coated, yellow maned, green eyed and bandage etched cutie mark stallion doctor. Soon enough the four met in the centre of the room, rather swiftly, the sound of their hooves ringing around the empty, acoustic room for a few seconds.

The stallion moved forward to check the ruler of Equestria, immediately deducing that the source of the arrival of the three was over the health of the Princess before his gaze was sent towards another creature that had remained hidden amidst the swirling, light cast shadows on the back of one of the guards.

The beast was moaning and muttering to itself, eyes wide open yet staring into nothingness, sweat dripping down its forehead.

Its golden eyed gaze locked with the emerald orbs of the doctor pony and in those eyes he saw such pain, grief, madness and horror, untold tales of desecrations and deeds before the strange creature whispered to him, causing the stallion to lean forward to catch the faint words, both scared over the strange beast and excited over its arrival.

Its voice was harsh and barren of any emotion other then fear and pain, the tinges of such inexcusable feelings making the stallion shudder.

“Help me.”

[.]

Jonathan could feel only pain and fear.

Swirling tendrils of agony.

Piercing shards of terror.

The damp smell of sweat.

The metallic taste of blood on his lips.

The convulsing of his body.

Worst of all though, worst of all were the visions.

He would snap awake for the merest of seconds, eyes wide and alert, hands clasped tightly to the sheets of a mysterious bed, searching the room he was in in panic and terror before his eyes would rest on the bottom of the bed and his gaze would falter and shatter.

It would sit there, the monster named Discord. It would lay itself down at his feet and it would look at him, smirking and laughing, the sound choking the human, sending him into dizzying spirals of fear. The monster, the chaotic demon, would move forward until it rested on his chest, terrible pain and smothered breath licking across the humans body, talons slicing into his skin and eyes roaming his soul before it would thrust its head into his own, golden eyes locking with golden eyes, tortured soul locking with evil intentions.

He would wake writhing and screaming, panting and choking on sobs before his eyes would close again, dragged into another wretched sleep.

Vaguely he knew what was going on. Past the horrible burning sensation of his head, past the pounding in his mind, past the swelled scars and bruises, past the fear, the insanity, the depression and the anger was a single word that described his condition, his madness and his crippling disease.

Delirium.

He would see things, horrible visions of laughing gods, sickly demons, a purple eyed, winged watcher, masses and huddles of twisted, warped guests and worst of all the creature at the end of his bed.

The fever burnt his mind, scorched his skin. The pain and the fear only rallied the sickness to greater lengths, extending the illness for hours and days, time ceased to matter. The only sensation was the horrible panic of needing to escape, to end the torture he was going through.

He prayed for a death that would never come.

He was soaked in sweat and blood and urine, tossing and turning, opening wounds, feeling the blood drip down his body before he was yanked back into his nightmares, before those golden eyes would settle on him once again.

Fear clutched his heart, pain cleansed his body.

His world was meaningless, his mind corrupted and afflicted by the demon.

He recognised aspects of his physical body, of the strange animalistic doctor that would visit him, no knowledge of when or why, time and meaning lost to him. Another would visit him also, the purple eyed, winged creature that burnt a strong gaze into his soul until he would whimper and sink back into the realms of night terrors.

And every second that ticked by, every time he would scream and sob, every time he would bleed and panic it would be accompanied by a single, reminiscent sound.

Dead laughter.

[.]

He opened his eyes to be met by the blinding, strobing flashes of deep yellow and orange light that burnt into his new twin pools of gold, causing great floods of tears to stream from his eyes but he didn't care. He could feel it this time, sweet relief sweeping through his body as he sighed a deep sigh. He was awake at last, he was free.

The fever was purified, the pain satisfied with its job, the delirium full and well fed, leaving to find a new victim.

Sweat clung to his body, cold and greasy, dampening himself and the white hospital-esque bed with the large, concealing green curtains and white, crack-lined walls. Blood mingled with the sweat like companions, pink and crimson smears dotting his body, trailing from various yellowing, gauze wrapped slices. Great splotchy black, blue and green bruises coated his body like a second skin, nearly camouflaging him with the green, crisp curtain. It hurt to breathe, to move but none of that mattered any more. He was free, he was alive and awake at long last.

His skin no longer burned with the smouldering fever and insanity inflicting delirium. His hair was plastered to his scalp however, great, greasy, black tangles knotted and twisted to shroud his eyes in a shadowed veil. His eyes ached and burned, sweat trickling down to meld with the watering tears of both happiness and discomfort, blood lines stretching across their golden expanse, indicating a spoiled sleep.

The sheets were soft and warm on him, not burning his skin nor freezing his soft body, instead wrapping itself around him, pulled closer by the lines of sweat. Dimly, he realised he was naked beneath the covers, his bare body touching the silky texture of the duvet but at the moment it did not matter, nothing mattered truly except the encompassing relief and joy at beating the illness.

Exhaustion had him wrapped around its finger though, his limbs felt leaden and worn, his mind sluggish and sore, his body tired and beaten but very much alive and kicking.

His legs and arms trembled, not from fear, nor from pain but from a deep lingering consumption of his body, an unsettling feeling of weariness that threatened to blacken his vision and dull his senses beyond use.

He tried to move, feeling his muscles tighten and knot together, feeling his breath hitch as the abominable pain from his lacerations and bruises ripped through his body, halting his movements within seconds, forcing him to flop back down onto the bed, head sinking into the pillow and breath escaping in an aggravated but tired sigh.

His body yearned, begged, pleaded to sleep but Jonathan wouldn't let it, couldn't let it, still fearing that if he were to sleep, to dream then he would be visited by those nightmares once more. He opted to take in his surroundings with fatigued but twinkling eyes, his gaze resting on his new abode.

The bed he was laying on was a deep snow colour that was mingled with darker spots of deep grey sweat and deep fire red blood. It still seemed crisp though, pleasant to the touch, not crusted by dried bodily liquids. The pillow his head was laying on seemed to be a dark red creation, plush and smooth, filled with soft feathers indicated by the small, almost unnoticeable scratch in the side of it that showed a lack of stuffing. The pillow itself seemed to be embroidered with golden lace to create swirling patterns that folded out of the view of the curious humans eyes.

The green curtain remained as he had viewed it before, pristine and without fault. The marble walls that were just visible to the left and right of him were likewise impeccable apart from the odd, black crack that stretched along their surface to create a tear in the skin of the wall. The floor of the sealed off area was one of orange speckled tiles that danced and dazzled the floor, creating much needed colour that reflected the sunlight into the curtain ensconce room.

Past the smell of blood, sweat and other fluids was the high, nose tingling stench of disinfectants, the peculiar smell almost, almost washing away the other three but failing at the last hurdle. The room past the sheltered area was completely silent, either there was nothing out there or someone was doing a very good job at remaining quiet.

Jonathan sighed just once, eyes fluttering closed before bolting open, body intent on falling asleep but mind battling to stay awake. Memories bubbled up around him, memories that he should have cared about and, were it not for the deep exhaustion, he would surely have shuddered and sobbed over.

Memories of golden eyed monsters, of terrible schemes, twisted plans, bloody violence, of giftedly produced burdens and a seductive but malicious voice.

Memories of waking to find an alabaster horse- or was it pony? -with wings and a horn staring intently at him, not allowing him to look away. Memories of that shrieking wind and roaring voices that poured into his mind, twisting his sight and his ideals. At the back of his mind he could remember being carried, jostled and cared for but by whom he had no idea, time had simply stopped, as had sight and sound, replaced by chilling fear and condescending pain.

Still, he could not dabble on those memories, his body and now even his mind beckoned him to sleep, which he did, though with great nervousness.

[.]

Waking and drifting on and off for what could have been hours or could have been days, all Jonathan knew was that no one had come to visit him, no one had come to see him or care for him. He would sleep a wretched sleep, waking panting but unable to remember why and then, just as quickly, he would fall back into sleep, not out of fever induced weariness but out of a deeper exhaustion that sprouts from a hard earned victory.

He woke with a loud, startled yelp out of a deep fear that he could not place, his eyes sore and bagged, his mind sluggish but awakening, his limbs tired but no longer weighed down quite as heavily, his skin free of fresh oiled sweat, instead coated in the flaking form of the liquid. He did not feel well but nor did he feel ill. No, he felt the beginnings of rejuvenation coming on, the start of a recovery that would herald joys and happiness.

It was a noise that had awoken him this time, a faint, heavy footstep like sound that constantly ran around the infirmary building, for it could not be anything but a hospital room. It sounded very much like the rattle of boots on tiles except this noise came in clumps of four, not in huddles of two.

At the surprised, shocked sound that had erupted from Jonathan's mouth, the faint foot-falls had collapsed silent, echoing around the room but producing no fresh noise like the smell of bread that was once freshly baked but now sat upon the shelves as second best.

Jonathan was nervous, most certainly, most indefinitely nervous but stronger then that was his curiosity, a deep feeling of wanting to know more, of not merely living off of suspicions. He wanted to know how he was here, who had helped him. He wanted to know more of the dark God and the purple eyed watcher. He simply wanted an explanation and it was this desire that lent him the strength and the courage to speak up in a raw, rasping voice, throat untouched by water for a long time.

“Hello?”

A sharp intake of astounded breath signalled the truth behind the bruised, battered humans deduction. There was something else in the room with him, something that may help him or may hinder him. He must know though, he must. With that in mind, he swallowed his now bubbling fear, horrid memories pouring from his mind, to speak up again.

“Who's there?”

All was silent for seconds that dropped by like sand in an hour glass, painfully slowly, before the sound of approaching footsteps- if that was what they were – drew closer and closer, quietened down but not entirely hidden due to the echoing nature of the room.

Jonathan watched with bated breath as the green curtain in front of him rustled slightly under the touch of another being before a loud intake of breath was heard and the curtains were torn away entirely, the sounds of metal rings sliding across metal railings stabbing into Jonathan's ears.

Brightened sunlight punctured his eyes, making him wince and blink rapidly, sight not accustomed to the full glare of the burning ball of gas, instead used to the slight reflection of light from the orange tiles below. It took him ten seconds to clear his eyes of water, ten seconds of hearing a deep panting breathing that sounded more surprised and intrigued then it did deadly.

Jonathan opened his eyes fully, squinting in pain to stare at the newcomer.

A young pony stood there, emerald eyes wide and sparkling with timid fear and curious questions. Its coat was a deep beige colour that one would position along with that of wallpaper or deep paint, not of an animal. A deep, electric yellow mane rested atop its head, meticulously groomed into an almost posh manner, a tail of the same curious colour whistling through the air behind it. On its rear was what appeared to be a bright white swath of a bandage etched into the creamy fur, carefully crafted and with exquisite detail.

The most surprising figure of the little pony though was the swirling beige horn that erupted from its head.

The little, nearly shivering equine was looking at Jonathan with such an indistinguishable look, emotions exploding across its face like a blitz: fear, happiness, curiosity, apprehension and worry smothered the complexion of the pony.

It seemed to border on action at first, legs tensing, mouth moving as if it were to speak before its ears flickered back and its canopy green eyes darkened as if it was remembering something. Before Jonathan could offer any explanation, any word that may be spoken the little beige unicorn had bolted out of the obscure area and just for a second Jonathan could have sworn it said 'Princess'.

When ones mind and body have been exhausted, when one has previously attempted to relinquish its own life to clear itself of pain, when one had seen the impossible, the unbelievable and the unimaginable then it would take an awful lot to startle them, to surprise them or to shock them. This, the image of the little beige unicorn that seemed to speak was, in fact, enough to startle Jonathan, clouding his mind so that he had no time to question or ask the strange creature on his whereabouts before it had vanished.

Uncertainly, Jonathan pieced together another memory, his last true one before the insanity inducing illness had gotten to him. He remembered words spoken, sentences whispered, orders given but there had been no humans in sight, only the purple eyed watcher and twin blocks of gold, the real identities behind the creatures obscured by the seething madness.

Could they talk, these little ponies, or was this another cheap shot at his equilibrium by the monster in his mind?

He had seen stranger things, more horrific things in the course of his life then possible talking ponies with horns, the oddities mostly consisting of the voice and its transformations of his own body, his temple. Oddly enough though, whenever he imagined his body changing, he drew blank on emotions, as if they were being smothered and kept at bay by another force that refused to let him acknowledge them.

It took him minutes of near silence, of distant ringing, clopping of hooves, of whispering wind before he grew accustomed to the idea of talking ponies with horns that originated from fairy tales and myths. After all that had happened to him, the horrors and the misery, the persecution and the hauntings, the changing of his body and mind and the whispering voice, crackling laughter, he could come to accept that the rules of the game had changed now, what once was myth and fiction now seemed real and true.

The rules of logic had been warped and twisted beyond belief and yet, like with his changing body, Jonathan felt naught but a faint sense of disbelief at the change, as if his emotions were once more bound and tied away.

A/N: Not a big, fancy chapter this time around, just spreading more fear and whatnot. I think I appropriately explained why he didn't freak out when pony unicorn fella' showed up so that was good.

This chapter was inspired by the chapter A Packet Of Letters from The Woman In Black.

Enjoy and expect the next chapter tomorrow which will feature Celestia in it once more and which will start to spread the feeling of Discord's control.

And in the chapter after that, I think I'll give Jon a nice lookin' beard.

In The Presence Of A Deity

He came to accept that matters were now out of his hands, that what he once knew was gone and just as he came to the realization that, whilst he should care about this bending of the rules of life his mind wouldn't allow him to, he was interrupted in his thought train by the loud clopping of hooves that must have been discernible for seconds, blocked out by his own brain.

This set of hooves, for it could be nothing less with that hefty beat of four, were much more loud, much more metallic as if the creature that was heading towards him, the creature that cast a large shadow across the far wall, was made of iron and steel. The cacophonous, obnoxious noise grew closer and closer, the curtains till wide open from where the last visitor had thrown itself away, Jonathan's new golden eyes locked tightly on the area where this new pony would appear.

And appear she did.

Majestic. That was the only one word to describe her and it was blatantly a her, the figure, the posture and the general atmosphere around her suggested such motherly care, such devotion that she could be nothing but a mare.

Her body glowed a deep, dove white that seemed to bend and refract the sunlight around her like a full body halo of celestial light. She was taller then the other pony by a long way, perhaps his own height if not taller judging by the length of her legs and her long, swan-like neck.

Her pastel coloured mane, of lightest but most perfect green, pink and blue swum through the open air as if gravity did not exist, as if it spat in the face of gravity. The colours blended together to form such a beautiful, fantastic symphony of magnificence, the swirling, almost pulsing tail of the same cotton like hair wafting behind her.

On her rear sat the emblazoned, swirling picture of the sun with great lashings of orange, red and yellow flaring along her white body, directing attention and shining softly amidst the snow coat. A fantastic pair of fascinating white wings clung to her sides like bouncers outside of a club, folded neatly to her right and left.

Her body was tattooed with golden accessories, four, shining gold horseshoes gently nestled onto her hooves, explaining the mysterious clanking noise that simulated metal. Around her neck hung a heavy looking necklace of gold with a bright purple jewel stabbed into the centre, swirling patterns similar to those on his pillow extending from the jewel. On top of her head, snuggled into the floating hair was a tiara made of the same gold, a rather familiar looking purple jewel once more forced into the centre, hieroglyphics seeping outwards and three rounded spikes ascending.

Her eyes were of deep purple, memories of the purple creature bursting forth to Jonathan's mind as he realized who it was he was staring at, glimmering with knowledge, joy but mostly showing curiosity and small, hidden twinges of nervousness. Her mouth was set in a blank expression, not approving nor disapproving, just simply monotonous. From her hair sprouted a horn that was easily double the length of the previous creatures, white and twirling higher and higher.

Jonathan felt simply captivated by the sight of her, a being that radiated power that was off the scale, a true deity, not a false, corruptive, monstrous one. This was a being that glistened and burst with kindness and charity, of comfort and care, of generosity and loyalty, of honesty and integrity. This was what people believed a God would be like, a majestic being that hurt to look at, a majestic being that you would gladly allow yourself to be given to, a majestic being that would decide your fate. A being filled with such goodness and purity that it flowed from them in great, rolling waves.

It took all of his mental will power not to gawk and stare, not to bow or pray to this new arrival, his human mind barely able to comprehend the almighty strength and power that flowed from her. Anger, sadness and fear washed away from him like blood in the rain to be replaced by a fuzzy warmth that smothered his body.

And then she spoke up in a voice that was full of love and compassion but also one that drew attention and demanded answers. The voice of a ruler.

“Hello.”

Jonathan stuttered, mind suddenly flaring back to life, a blush of embarrassment coating his cheeks as an uncomfortable feeling of drool dribbling down his chin plopped onto his chest. He choked out an answer, captivated and wiping the excess liquid from his chest and his mouth.

“H-hello.”

She moved forward, slowly and with loudly clopping hooves and yet Jonathan couldn't help flinching backwards, not scared for himself but merely reluctant to get anywhere near her in case he desecrated her purity. Such was the feeling of godly emotions and powers that the once disbelieving, disproving human found himself suddenly feeling unworthy of being anywhere near a figure this right.

She spoke again in a fluid, clear voice. If she had noticed his flinch then she did not attract attention to it, merely ignoring it.

“How are you feeling?”

He shook slightly under the care in that voice, feeling for all the world like this was his own flesh and blood mother speaking to him for nobody could create such a bond of kindness and joy quite like that between a child and their parent.

“Weak. Dehydrated. Y-you are not surprised to hear me speak?”

At this, the winged, horned pony smiled, instantly making Jonathan feel enlightened and joyous, as if he had managed to fulfil his life goal. He felt good, excellent even. Dark memories vanishing to be replaced by fuzzy happiness that numbed his wounds.

“Nay, and your are not surprised to hear me speak. Now, can I ask what exactly you are?”

He replied immediately, enthralled by her beauty and her glow, his mind and body not accustomed to such tranquillity and perfection.

“Human.”

This caused the white mare to stop and frown in contemplation before she seemed to wave off the rather obscure answer, instead delving into her next question with fearless disregard.

“What is your name, human?”

He couldn't refuse, not even if he wanted to. He needed to impress this deity, he needed to make her trust him, he needed to be near her for she was the light in the dark, she was hope incarnate.

“Jonathan.”

She smiled once more, flashing perfect teeth and creating such a glow of warmth that it filled the whole room with a relaxed atmosphere. She spoke up once more, getting straight to the heart of her visit with one single, swift sentence.

“Hello Jonathan, my name is Celestia. May I ask how you found your way into my bed last night?”

Even her named sounded perfect and godly, Celestia, the one who watches from above. His heartfelt, loving daydream was soon torn apart as the second part of her question hit him head on, blanking his mind. Jonathan spoke up in a hesitant whisper, afraid of the wrath that a God could bring down upon him, feelings hanging open like a doorway.

“I-I'm sorry, I didn't...I me-ean I...I jus-”

His feeble, scratchy, failing voice was interrupted by the soft, tinkling chuckle of Celestia, who merely waved her hoof in the air in a sign of relaxation and nonchalance. Her expression spewed serenity and a deep calm but something, a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that she was scared, worried even.

“I hold no grudge Jonathan, I merely want to know how you ended up here. I have never seen a creature quite like you and I have lived for a very long time.”

He made way to tell her, who was he to refuse the questions of a God before his mouth was halted, the answer dying on the edges of his lips swiftly as a strange, spine-chillingly feeling fell over him.

He felt something stir, in the back of his mind, in the recesses of his conscious and he felt it grip his brain, twist his words until what came out was a corrupted, lie spewing disaster of what once was a true sentence.

“I don't know Celestia.”

Jonathan felt fear and nihilism chill his core as he heard his own voice speak, as if detached and torn away from decisions of his own body. He felt like a passenger to his own body, a back-seat driver and that terrible, whispering, seductive voice was the one in charge, the one who had made him lie, the one who had touched his thoughts and changed them to its own regime, its own needs and answers.

He had lied, to a deity of good and kindness and he had never felt more disgusted by himself. Yet, somewhere, deep, deep in the back of his mind he felt the slivers of dark pride that were not his own trickle through his thoughts and twist his mind.

She spoked up again, drawing him out of his thoughts like a splinter from a wound. Her voice this time though, it held more force, more probing, poking curiosity that made Jonathan feel like an experiment of a greater creator.

“Nothing, nothing at all?”

Jonathan wanted, needed, desperately lusted to tell her the truth, to open his mouth and spew forth the facts, his story, his pain and, most importantly, the truth behind the monster known as Discord and yet he couldn't. That same clawing, forcing, choking iron hard hand had wrapped around his mind, gagging his words and creating its own in its place, abominable lies belching forth.

“No. I do not remember...”

That almighty, holy voice rose up from the throat of Celestia once more but this time the fear, the panic and the need for facts, for figures, for memories was palpable, causing the confused human to experience such inner turmoil, over her rolling emotions and over his apparent lack of telling the truth, the feelings rising up in him like bile, threatening to overwhelm him.

“There is nothing you remember, no one you remember?”

And once more, without his own consent his voice rose up and replied in that same, dead tone it had adopted.

“No Celestia.”

His mind was blank, his thoughts were drifted, his body felt detached and dead, as if he were on medicine that dulled the mind and numbed the body. He didn't feel alive, he didn't feel right, he didn't feel pure. He felt, for all purposes, like a meat puppet on the strings of some unholy abomination that was messing with him and yet he could not express those feelings, he couldn't move, couldn't talk. He could only watch his body fall silent and still whilst his mind yearned desperately to be free, attempting to break the smothering barrier that surrounded it. To no avail.

Celestia seemed to notice the sudden blankness of the human named Jonathan, instantly convincing herself that he was tired and in need of sleep, not struggling with himself and his inner, darkest fears. Believing it was better that she leave him alone, the exact opposite of what he really needed, she spoke up again in a caring voice, filled with sympathy.

“Thank you Jonathan. I will leave you to rest now. Do not worry, when you wake I will make sure to have somepony drop off some food and drink.”

She turned and trotted back through the curtains, quashing her curiosity and questions, deciding that his own well being was more important then her much needed relief and foolish questions. She had briefly allowed her panic and her night time fright to become her, to become what she stood for, to take her over and that disregard for her once strong will, that show of weakness was enough to both convince her that she should leave this human before her façade snapped altogether and that foul, mysterious things were at play, things that revolved around this new arrival, feelings she had not felt for a long, long time dredged up by the human.

Behind her, the curtains rustled softly as a breeze rolled through them to meet the human straight in the chest, making him shiver and regain his mind, glazed eyes disappearing and gaze glancing around to try and decipher where the deity had gone. He heard the exiting clip-clop of her heavy, golden hooves and desperately wished to call to her, to draw her back and to tell her the truth but he simply couldn't. He wouldn't ask that of a deity, he wanted make her return just for his own well-being, his own foolish needs and, even if he did call her back, even if she did return he no longer trusted himself to tell the truth, he no longer trusted himself to be in charge of his own body or mind.

Jonathan turned his head sharply as the voice of Celestia spoke up once more, hooves falling silent and voice quietened down to a mere whisper that showed a definitive amount of worry and crazed anxiety.

“Jonathan, have you ever heard of...Discord?”

He couldn't see her form, her figure but he could imagine what she must look like merely judging by that laden voice. She sounded worried, she sounded like her shoulders would be slouched, her form would be off, her eyes would be dark, her mane would be flat. She almost sounded like a nervous school child questioning the idea behind the monster under the bed, the bumps in the night.

Jonathan wanted to scream, to say yes, to admit to all, to explain what he had been through, what he was still going through but once more, that icy, dead, decaying hand clamped down on his mind, spitting words from his mouth that were not his own, disgracing his lips with foul tasting lies and dank, dirty deceit.

“No Celestia, I haven't.”

The air was once again spoilt by the sounds of heavy horseshoes on orange tiles, fading into the background subtly and with subliminal silence but he no longer cared.

He was free wasn't he? He had beaten the fever, the delirium? He had felt that malevolent presence when he had arrived but it had vanished. It was the delirium after all that had sent him into spiralling madness. He should be free, caring and purified so why, why wasn't he?

And then the voice of his nightmares, of his transformations, of his delirium and of every dark corner, every creeping shadow, every creaking noise in the night, every story ever told to ignite fear rose up around him, unbelievably loud and yet confined to his own mind so it rang around like ripples in a pond.

Oh you poor, foolish human, you honestly thought your were free from me?

Frozen in terror, eyes wide, sweat returning to his body, questions answered in the most cruel monstrous way, Jonathan came to the fact, the knowledge of what was happening to him just as that evil laughter kicked in, swooping and soaring around his mind like a bird of prey, allowing him to feel fear but not allowing him to act upon it, keeping his mouth sealed so that no sounds could escape, keeping his body locked down so that he could not find help.

He was alone but not alone, awake but not awake, alive but not alive.

He had come to the realization, the horrible, gut-wrenching, stomach-churning, spine-tingling, mind-melting realization that nothing had changed since his fevered dreams, since his delirium and his boiling, swelling pains.

He came to the realization that whilst there were forces of good out there, whilst there were deities of light there were also those of darkness and they were more real to him then any other for they were him, his present and his future.

He came to the realization that he was no longer in control, that he was not free as he had thought. He had come to the realization that he was a mere pawn in the chess game that had been initiated by the destroyer of harmony and torturer of minds that had spat out its name like it was a shard of glass.

He was a pawn in Discord's game of revenge and chaos.

He was a pawn in Discord's tyrannical goals.

He was a pawn in Discord's sparking, darkened schemes.

And he could do nothing about it.

Sleep came to him slowly, forced upon him, and it was a sleep that was disturbed by laughing gods and a forceful, cruel, guiding hand that seemed to be pushing him closer and closer to destruction.

[.]

Celestia watched her scroll vanish in a puff of bright green flames, sent speeding off to her faithful student in Ponyville at speeds which defied belief, infused with powerful magic. She sighed heavily, eyelids drooping and mane suddenly feeling dishevelled and twisted, matted and knotted as the weight of exhaustion and unanswered, unbelievable feelings poured through her.

She had barely slept a wink in the five long days that the raving, ranting, feverish guest of hers had been under the effects of intense delirium, a condition that Doctor Band Aid had said was induced by heavy stress or memories that were so terrible, so disastrous that they followed him into the waking world, tormenting him and forcing him into the realms of madness and insanity.

She trotted over to her bed, about to push herself upwards to finally, finally get some sleep, Luna offering to take over for the day and the night in her place to allow her to catch up on lost rest and re-cooperation. Just before she slipped into the covers though, just before she gave into the power of her expenditure, she turned back around and glanced at her writing desk, at the inks splotches and used quills, at the crisp paper and dead candle that had once flamed brightly.

With a gentle flick of faint yellow magic she pulled a loose piece of paper from her pile, dragging it over to her with little effort in order to read its contents. The first copy of her message, the scroll that was scrapped because of her hasty, shaky, nervous writing making the whole thing barely eligible to even herself let alone her student, heavy, settled ink blots dancing across the crusted, cracked page as she scanned the botched writing of her message for any signs that may give her little, curious apprentice any reason to believe that her mentor, the Solar Princess, was suffering badly from a deep, unsettling apprehension and fright that chilled her soul.

To My Faithful Student, Twilight Sparkle

I request the presence of you and your five friends at Canterlot in two days time, just enough time to allow your friend Rarity to pack, eh? A chariot will be arriving at your library and humble abode at six o'clock in exactly one day and I would request that your bring the Elements of Harmony with you. I trust you still have them after our last defence method worked so well on Discord?

I will be awaiting your answer by mail and, as to partially satisfy the curiosity that I know you will feel, the basic reason for my requesting you and your friends is because I have found a rather peculiar, sentient being that I have never seen before and I feel that you would enjoy meeting him.

I hope to see you and the other Elements soon.

With love

Princess Celestia.

Celestia allowed herself a small smile, reading through the scroll had easily satisfied and quenched her fear that she had inexplicably keyed Twilight Sparkle, the little purple unicorn, into her own frigid, foolish, timid fears. All was well though, all was good and right now, with thoughts of mysterious humans and cackling laughs being pushed to the back of her mind, Celestia did what she had been dying to do for days.

She crawled into her bed and slept a deep, thick slumber that would have not allowed her to leave even if the castle around her were collapsing.

So captivated by sleep as she was, so heavy a sleep, so deep a slumber that she had participated in, Celestia could not even hear the same cold, dark, memorable laugh billow out from the sunlit sky and drench the surroundings in malice.

[.]

“Come on Spike, I need that book on animal transfigurations so that I can write my report to the institute of Unicornial Magic.”

Twilight Sparkle, purple mare, powerful unicorn, Celestia's personal student and bearer of the Element of Magic stood below a rickety, rocking ladder, gazing upwards at the dangling purple and green dragon with a look of annoyance and frustration.

The hopelessly perched dragon looked down at the mare with irritation in his eyes, sighing to himself as he turned back around to allow his sight to parade around the shelves of multicoloured books, flicking through them with the precision of one who has done the job of searching time and time again.

Still staring at the multiple, chronologically arranged books, Spike the dragon spoke down to the Bearer of Magic in an aggravated voice, grouchy from being bossed around and having only ten hours sleep last night.

“I'm going as fast as I can Twilight.”

He heard her sigh deeply in displeasure before the sounds of her hooves pacing the orange brown floor of the library rung into his ears, followed by the sound of her voice, further off this time but still noticeable.

“Maybe your fastest isn't fast enough.”

This caused Spike to whirl around on his little ladder with a severe look of anger on his cherubic, scaled face, mouth opening to mouth a barbed retort, finally snapping under the weight of sleep deprivation and the constant nagging before his voice was choked by a loud burp and a blast of green fire that sent him careening off of the ladder in shock.

He fell for a split second before his thankfully armoured rump hit the library floor with a small thud, sending shocks through the young dragons body as both the newly formed scroll and the book he had been vainly searching for for the past five minutes both landed on his head, the scroll daintily touching him but the book thwacking him hard, making him see bright stars.

Dimly he was aware of Twilight rushing over to him, drawing closer and closer, blue mane flapping, eyes wide with a curious feeling as she became closer before she moved towards him and...

...scooped up the scroll with a tuft of purple magic, wheeling around to leave the dazed, confused dragon on the floor by himself to simply sit stunned and somewhat saddened by her lack of concern towards him.

He sat on the floor for ten hazy seconds, blinking slowly before he staggered to his little clawed feet, groaning and clutching his aching rear end as he walked slowly to the still form of Twilight who seemed to be reading the scroll with intense concentration judging by the tense look of her body.

Just as he drew closer to her turned body, just as the mare seemed to finish reading the story and just when he began to speak up to question her, his mouth was suddenly filled by the blue tail of his overlooker as she swirled around, strength in her limbs causing her tail to whip into Spike and, once more, send him spinning onto his rump.

He was about to yell out to her, angry and eyes sparkling with frustrated tears before he took one look at her and fell silent.

Twilight was worried, not just normal worried, not even crazy “I need to make a friendship report” worried but a deep worry that could only stem from a serious, sombre issue. Her eyes were dark with contemplation and anxiety as she opened her mouth to speak lightning fast to her assistant, voice high and nervous, limbs twitching with excess agitated energy.

“Spike, we need to start packing now!”

Spike looked at her with confusion, one eyebrow raised in question as he spoke up in a clam voice, trying not to trigger her into a nervous breakdown. He had seen the signs before and right now she looked positively edgy.

“Huh, why?”

Twilight was pacing now, right eye twitching ever so slightly and gaze bursting around the room frantically as she spoke up in the same high pitched, rapid voice.

“Celestia wants to see me and the girls in Canterlot in two days.”

Spike shrugged his little shoulders, forcing himself back up to his feet as he spoke up once again in an impassive voice, trying to calm her down with his lack of strong emotions.

“So?”

“So, so? I...there's...Spike, I think that...that...”

Twilight turned back to him to finish her sentence and it was then that he saw how worried she really was, how manic she may turn out to be. Her eyes glowed with frantic thoughts and deep, unsettling anxiety, her hair was already beginning to curl, her limbs were shivering with nerves, her mouth and brow were set in a deep frown as she spoke up once again in a quieter voice meant only for his ears.

“I think that there's something wrong with Celestia...I think she needs us Spike. I think that something bad is happening or that something bad is going to happen...

...and I want to get to Canterlot as quickly as possible because the last time she seemed like this, the last time her writing was as disjointed as this was when he came back...

...the last time I felt like this, the last time she seemed like this was when Discord returned.”

A/N: The reasoning behind Celestia's short visit was because though she may be curious, she has more compassion then to nag and pester a person in the hospital. Sadly, my plans for the next chapter will have to be pushed back to the chapter after that considering I have made a rule to try and not go over the 5000 word boundary per chapter or to go under the 3000 word boundary, therefore the next chapter is split in two.

Anyway, enjoy and, once more, constructive criticism is welcome.

Cleansing The Grime

The soft pitter-patter of hooves on tiles.

The dried rustle of curtains ruffled by a gentle breeze.

The heavy, scraggly scribbling of a quill on paper.

The deep, muffled groans of a tired, weary unicorn.

The loud, rumbustious snores of a sleeping, black haired human.

The hearty swish of the night sky air on shining white windows.

Band Aid, the humble beige unicorn doctor sat on his plush, stain dotted, white chair behind the large, brown oak desk of the Canterlot Infirmary, reading up on the latest issues behind the new medical practice of magical heart procedures with tired, drooping eyes.

He had been at the job for days now, hardly ever getting more then a few, sparse hours sleep in his relatively roomy Canterlot Castle chambers, mind constantly buzzing with a mixture of curiosity and fear towards the new arrival, intent on being the most prominent doctor to lead the research behind the strange, bipedal looking beast.

He did have two other assistants to back him up, one little green coated and orange haired filly named True Heart and the other a rather obese brown colt with shining silver hair who had adopted the name of Cherished Trickle, a rather feminine name really. True Heart had of course been chosen for the job because of her special talent, a nurses red cross with sparkling hearts around it whilst Cherished Trickle had been chosen because he had a certain way with ponies that enabled them to forget all their troubles and worries,

Both were currently dozing in their beds no doubt, slumbering under the protection of Luna's moon whilst Band Aid had to once more fight to stay awake in case any incidences occurred, not that that was very likely considering the guest was battered badly, both mentally and physically.

Soft, waxing candlelight cast a protective glow around the partially reading, partially dead to the world unicorn, illuminating the area around him but leaving enough darkness for his visitor to sleep peacefully. With a gentle flick of beige magic that flared from his horn, the book turned yet another page, crinkling along the spine.

He wasn't really paying attention to the book, its meanings or its findings, it was a mere distraction from the ever consuming void of sleep that threatened to tear his mind from his body. He needed to stay awake, he simply had to.

His mind turned to thoughts of great discoveries, of the fame he would acquire through his investigations and research behind a creature that not even the Princess in her long years of life had ever seen before. Thoughts of riches, thoughts of his name put up in all of the great scientific and doctoral books and magazines in the world, thoughts of taking any filly he wanted for his own rushed through his head like a waterfall, temporarily cleaning it of the worries of sleep and idea of slumber.

His thoughts of fame, fortune and fillies was interrupted quite suddenly by the loud, deep moaning that spewed forth from behind one of the rustling green curtains, the only secluded area that currently housed any patients, the one secluded area that housed the beast.

It was mumbling to itself, quite loudly so that the sound just reached Band Aid's flicking ears, the gloomy, muffled voice full of twisting fear and shivering fright. The voice itself was filled with a dark, corrupt tone but the words were muzzled and incoherent, drawing the attention of the beige unicorn once more, who, with a slight scrape of his chair, leapt out from behind his desk and began to trot quietly towards the groaning creature.

As he drew closer and closer to the concealing curtains, as he drew closer and closer to the incoherent babbling, words began to distinguish themselves, letters and disjointed sentences began to taint the air around the unicorn, chilling his blood with their unholy message.

“No...I can't...I won't...you...no-no...NO!”

The last word was a shriek that penetrated the silent night to spiral around the hospital like a phantom, causing Band Aid to jump and freeze up in fear at the anger and the horror behind that voice. It sounded almost like the beast was fighting somepony. Its voice spoke up again but this time the voice sounded different, like a hissing serpent mixed with a purring cat. It sounded, for lack of a better word, evil.

“Yes...oh you will...Soon...Friends...Love...Betray-Chaos.”

And once more, the timid, frightened voice piped up, significantly less loud this time to roll around the air.

“No...please...no.”

Band Aid moved forward now, scared but intent on finding out who was behind that green curtain, intent on finding out who was scaring his patient, intent on dealing with whatever may be behind the shrouding, darkened fabric. With a great tearing noise and the skittering of metal rings on metal bindings, the green curtain was flung open, allowing moonlight to pierce the dark area with stabbing white beams.

His gaze adjusted to the dark gloom rather quickly, green eyes darting around to find the perpetrator of the fear and the frustration that had been brought down upon his patient but he found no one else in the room but the twisting, turning, shivering form of the creature.

Just for a second though, as the wind rushed by, he could have sworn he heard dark laughter.

The beast was shaking, churning and dispelling the white sheets around him with reckless care, whimpering under its breath, sweat coating its body in a shimmering, sickly glow. Its mouth was moving, teeth shining outwards, but no sound escaped its lips, just the occasionally moan and whimper penetrated the air.

Band Aid sighed to himself, staring at the twisting beast with apprehension and pity, realizing that those twin sets of voices had, of course, belonged to the creature that was in the thrall of a nightmare. The beast must have kicked off part of its sheets in the night for its chest was exposed to the air, the lack of fur causing the creature to shiver in the breeze of the night, cooling the sweat on its body. With a light beige tug of magic, the blanket resettled on the beasts body, it letting out a light sigh as the chill around its chest vanished, replaced by a warm and soft feeling.

Band Aid continued to gaze at the whining, mewling creature for a few more seconds, content with gazing at what would be his sure fire ticket to fame before he turned around with a little sigh, trotting quietly but quickly back to his book, desperately blocking out the whimpers and ever so quiet sobbing of the sleeping but tormented creature.

The sound of fear, of weeping and sobbing did not leave him for the whole night.

[.]

Jonathan was roused from his diseased, sickening, monstrous sleep by the sound of bird song and laughing voices outside of the light streaming window. His eyes were full of dried, crusted tears that he could not remember the cause of, his brain groggy and dazed so that instead of remembering his current predicament, he turned to his right searching for his digital alarm clock, only to be met with a wheeled tray of multiple foods.

It was at that moment, for the second time in two days, that he remembered fully where he was and he flopped back onto the bed, head sinking into the pillow and eyes brimmed with sadness, confusion and fear. He should accept this, his fate, his duty and yet he couldn't for he knew that if he did, if he agreed to be the pawn, the fool, the avatar of chaos then he would lose himself forever.

Depression nearly overcame him as he felt the pulsing, seething monstrous influence in the back of his mind push into his consciousness, tears trickling down his face and heart hammering before he steeled himself, no longer willing to show the deep-set weakness, no longer willing to cry and sob for that sick creatures entertainment.

He breathed deeply, steadying out his inhalation and exhalation of air, heart slowing to its normal beat as he sliced his hand across his puffy, golden and red eyes, sending the tears flying across his secluded zone to splatter against the green curtain, spots of dark appearing on its surface.

With a deep growl of anger at his fate and with rebellion at his cruel keeper, he turned to face the displays of food that he had glimpsed before, forcing his attention onto the bundles of edible objects, trying to drown out the chuckling mass of evil with fresh information for his mind to ponder over.

Great, bulbous, glistening red apples sat upon a gentle silver plate, brimming over with crispy skin and delicate, juicy insides. His mouth watered at the sight of them, his hunger lust kicking in, drowning out his previous anger within mere seconds as his stomach roared. Beside them lay a large platter of what appeared to be dried, yellow hay, looking unappetizing and almost decaying in the bright sunlight so that the human immediately shifted to the next source of food, struggling to keep the small smile of humour off of his face.

A peculiar, white bread sandwich sat upon a little, tiny tray, a small white flower poking out of the side. It looked like quite the refined dish, carefully crafted so that no innards lay outside of the bread or on the exquisite plate. Jonathan looked at the daisy sandwich for a second, struggling not to laugh before he turned once more to the next bit of food on his obnoxious looking, wheeled, brown wood table.

A selection of fine, glittering, multicoloured jewels hung together in a great heaping pile, making Jonathan's eyes widen not in hunger, nor in fear but in astonishment. What kind of country was he in when jewels, rubies, amethysts, diamonds would be classified as an edible source of food? Each one was roughly the size of his closed fist, causing the humans eyes to widen even further at the sheer size of them and at the fact that, were he in his world, he would be rich by selling even one of these jewels.

His gaze, after lingering on the sparkling, would-be expensive jewels for another half a minute, finally rested on the last piece of food upon the widely varied platter of “edibles” and when it did, his eyes narrowed to dark slits and his breath hitched in disgust.

It was a slab of bleeding, raw red meat from an indescribable animal, crimson red juices soaking into the small, white tissue it had been daintily placed upon. The heavy smell of death and raw animal hung around it like the plague, forcing Jonathan to gag and his eyes to water in repulsion. It smelt rotten and wrong, as if meat in this world was the ultimate sign of corruption and evil, the look and smell of the mystery meat adding to the effect that were he to take a bite of this, to swallow even one inch then he would be judged for the rest of his life.

Jonathan turned away from the meat in aversion, mouth twisting into a grimace and one weighted hand coming up to clutch his nose, acting like a peg as he turned back to the end of the table to set his eyes on a cool jug of sparkling, dripping water, his parched throat suddenly kicking back up to roar loudly at him to drink, to quench his hefty thirst.

Jonathan flipped himself onto his side slowly and with a series of loud grunts, pain flaring up from where his bruises, scars and scabs rubbed against the bed before he reached a shaky, still exhausted hand over to grab the jug of water, his once bone-deep exhaustion that had pierced him to the marrow now replaced by a lighter weariness that still left him surprisingly weak.

His golden eyes raked the wheeled, mobile table once more as his hand reached out for the jug of gracious water, shining orbs falling down onto a single, smudged piece of yellowing, crinkled paper emblazoned with inky scribbles. With curious eyes, he leaned over further to read the elegant writing across the page and as he did so, a larger smile spread across his face, dispelling all thoughts of Discord.

Dear Jo-Nath-On

I did not know what the regular “Humane” eats so I provided a collaboration of common foods that we serve in Equestria to one table which I am sure Band Aid will deliver to you.

The meat, however, is not something we Equestrian's eat and, whilst we do not prohibit it, we do look down on it. Therefore, if you are to eat meat, I would ask that you do it in private.

Yours faithfully

Celestia

Jonathan felt a single, solitary tear fall from his eye, one of happiness and joy at being cared for, one of such unrivalled bliss at knowing he was not alone, that there was some creature out there that could, and was helping him. After all he had been through, torture both mental and physical, he seized the sparking flame of the hope that the compassionate letter brought, willing the small fire to never die out, to never leave him.

His thoughts very nearly turned to darker ones, egged on by the whispering voice in the back of his mind telling him that if Celestia knew how he had lied, if she knew the truth then this whole operation, of gifts, food and protection would simply crumble away like sandcastles at a beach.

He soon returned his thoughts to the water though, fearfully trying not to let this monster in his mind, this Discord, find out how truly passionate he felt about the turn of events in case the demon tried to use it against him, tried to taunt him with it.

His hand seized the cold handle of the jug and with visible strain he pulled the abundant beaker over to his body, tilting his head back and bringing the container to his dried, cracked lips to take a deep drink.

The water was freezing, crisp and clear, so pure, so free of pollution or disinfectants, so different to the water on Earth that Jonathan instinctively took a trio of deep gulps out of lust for the liquid before his eyes bulged and his throat gagged, pushing the jug back as he spewed up the excess, choking water from his throat onto his sheets, his draining of the water too quickly leading to his suffocation of the dangerous liquid.

As the final splutter of water dribbled down his front to soak into the sheets of his bed, dampening them and turning them a dark shade, Jonathan brought the jug back to his throat, refusing to be beaten by the violent liquid. With much more refined, slower gulps, he drained the contents of the glass beaker and turned over, hissing once more as his bruises rubbed along the bed, to place the jug with a gentle clink back on the table.

His throat wet, his thirst quenched, Jonathan turned his head to choose from the massive display of snacks what he would devour.

His gaze swiftly fell upon the apple with lust and hunger, reaching out one quivering, excited arm, causing the bed to creak under his weight as he snatched up the relatively small but gleaming red apple, wrapping his fingers around its smooth surface to pull it back up towards him.

With craving, eager eyes, Jonathan pulled the apple up into it rested just before his lips, its tantalizing taste tingling his nose with sweet scents of the country, its freshness pouring off of it in great rolling waves. With a deft flick of his wrist and a rapid opening of jaws, Jonathan took a great, cavernous bite out of the flesh of the apple, tearing through skin.

His eyes widened in glee and surprise at the fantastic, captivating, beautiful, wondrous taste of the delectable fruit before him, mind marvelling at its sheer bounty. The skin was crispy and ripe, no hints of the soft mould that an apple may acquire if left upon the tree for too long or if said apple had been bruised upon falling from the tree. The taste itself, the juice that ran down his face in great rivulets, was sweet and brimming with love and care, the signs of a brilliant apple farm, the juices flowing were not too sour and not too sweet.

The apple was, to put it simply, an elegant beauty upon the face of the culinary world.

Before Jonathan could truly fathom the serenity and awe that the was the apples flavour, he had fully devoured it, leaving naught but a single speck of apple core, a smattering of seeds and a small pool of juices along his chest.

With manic, greedy eyes and a large, beaming, happy smile across his face, Jonathan stretched out one arm, muscles aching and straining, as he clasped the silver plate of apples in between his fingers and brought all five remaining orbs of sweet, tangy goodness over to him.

The resulting mess that remained of the apples could be told simply as a massacre.

Jonathan laid back into his soft bed once more, head drifting into the pillow, throat quenched and stomach full of food, allowing him to let out a quiet but apple tinged burp that still managed to echo nearly silently around the room. His eyes closed with a deep sense of calm that he never thought he would ever feel again, his mind and body fuzzy and warm with contentment, his needs sated for the time being.

Well, nearly sated.

It was only when he caught a whiff of the apple scent laden across the air, it was only when he caught a tinge of purity and sweetness on the wind that he truly, truly understood how awful he must smell, how poor his stench must have been and, to his horror, how dishevelled and dirty he must have appeared to Celestia.

Jonathan visibly cringed as the smell of blood, sweat and other bodily fluids suddenly hung in the air around him in a much more prominent way. His eyes watered somewhat with his horrid stench, as they had with the meat except this time there was nothing he could do but grin and bear the stink until some one arrived to help him with his current smelly predicament.

Mind rustled and brought back to life by his own smell, free of the comforting blanket of warmth that had once surrounded it, immediately commanded him to return the silver plate that he had so carelessly chucked onto his own, dirty bed back to the wooden, wheeled table that it had arrived on and with a low sigh of aches and pains, his body complied.

With numbed, happy hands he gripped the plate and moved to place it gently back onto the table before a heavy wind tore through the curtains, before a deep, cawing voice shrieked through his head, before a piercing pain erupted behind his eyeballs that forced him to drop the plate with a startled yelp of agony, hands instinctively reaching up to clutch his head, believing that when he pulled back his hands they would be covered with shards of his own skull.

The plate slammed into the tiles of the floor with a loud ringing sound that smashed and shattered the relative silence of the infirmary, causing the birds outside of the windows to fly off with angered caws.

Vaguely, Jonathan heard the startled, awakening sound of some creature being brought back to life due to the antagonizing sound of the plate impacting with the floor but at that moment he didn't care. The pain in his head was spreading from his brain further and further down his face like the marching of biting army ants.

The sweeping pain reached his eyebrows and almost instantly a deep, burning, gorging pain tour through him, as if someone was stabbing into the sensitive area above his eyes repetitively with blazing needles.

He cried out in pain, feeling the scream pour from his throat like liquid fire, hearing the sounds of his agony mix with the feared panting of breath and rapid hoof clopping that issued from somewhere past his curtain, the sound drawing closer and closer but he no longer cared. He needed the pain to stop, he needed it to end. He didn't care how or why he just needed it to stop, stop, stop.

That crawling, shifting pain continued to spear into his the skin above his eyes, the feeling not leaving but tendrils of pain leaking downwards to meet his mouth and nose, his tongue and inner mouth instantly burning hotter and hotter, his nose clogged with the metallic smell of rich blood as Jonathan bit down on his tongue in unsuppressed pain. Dimly he heard the curtains being drawn back and a strangled gasp of shock but nothing mattered any more except his horrible agony.

He shrieked out in a horrible, pitched wail that stabbed into the air with unbelievable agony, causing the freshly awakened Band Aid to cringe and shudder in pity for the beast and fear over the source of the pain. Jonathan felt trickles of liquid run down his face and at first he couldn't decide if it was salty tears or blood leaking from his shattered, screaming head.

The rolling wave of agony soon reached the humans chin and from there on out memories began to become blurred, tinged red and unrecognisable.

It felt like his lower jaw were being ripped from his mouth, it felt as if his chin was being stretched like putty and burnt like coal. It felt like his skin was being pummelled with a hissing, steaming cattle prod, it felt like the endless, banging, shrieking, drumming voice in the back of his head that was pouring molten lead into his veins would never stop, never cease. Everything was red and blotched, the only feeling the tearing agony, the only memory that could be relieved the burning pain.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours, hours to days, days to weeks, weeks to years and yet the pain never seemed to give up, never seemed to let go, never seemed to desert him. His life was pain, his life was suffering, his life was flaring, pulsing agony and it never, never seemed to end.

He was not sure how long he stayed in that seemingly endless, abysmal void of agony and pain but he knew that when he finally pulled his head from his hands, he knew that when he finally managed to take a stuttering, shaky deep breath, he knew that when he cleared the pain entwined tears from his eyes that the sounds of laughter had stopped, that the sun had rose higher in the sky and that one soft but strong beige hoof was gripping his shoulder in a comforting manner.

He turned his tear soaked, puffy eyed, red faced, pain tensed face towards the owner of the hoof who looked both scared and pitiful over Jonathan's current predicament, emerald eyes sparkling with sadness and contemplation, body tensed but beige horn pointed in a non-threatening way to the human, high above Jonathan's greasy black hair.

With a forced, choked, shuddering smile the agonised, cramped, fearful human spoke up in a hushed, cracking, pain wrecked voice.

“Thanks.”

The little beige unicorn nodded sharply, eyes roaming over the humans body, searching for an injury, an illness, a symptom before his gaze rested on the humans face and his eyes widened slightly, not in fear but in bafflement. Jonathan could hardly miss that deep, bulky look and, with a frightened, aching whisper, he spoke up once more to the unicorn.

“What? What is it?”

The beige unicorn swallowed a gulp at the sound of the humans panicked, wary voice before he spoke up in a deep voice for ponies but a strangely high pitched voice for humans, tone filled with worry and fascination.

“Its...its your face...”

Jonathan was on the verge of becoming manic now, fearing for any changes, fearing for his own body, fearing for what would become of him in the future.

“What!? What is it about my face!?”

The unicorn staggered backward in fright at the force of that voice, making Jonathan feel a jolt of guilt that was swiftly replaced by terror.

“Your...your eyebrows. Right at the ends, they're...they're pure white. The rest is black but those ends...like snow.”

Jonathan swallowed an icy ball of fear, bile rising to his throat as he spoke up again in a strangely calm voice that briefly suggested with a small tremor how close the human was to falling into hysteria.

“And...and my chin?”

The cream unicorn squinted hard at his chin, curious at his strange request but free to go along with it if it meant that the beast didn't freak out or cause a ruckus. His emerald eyes passed over his chin once, twice before they settled on a single, almost hidden figure.

“There...there's a single, white hair. That's all.”

Jonathan fell back hard into his bed, eyes glazed and thoughts racing, fear threatening to spew forth from him. That pain, that horrible pain had blurred out every feeling, thought and emotion from him, such power, such suffering that it had broken his mind down. He couldn't go through that, not again and yet he knew it wasn't over. Nothing drastic had been changed about him, not yet at least and still he couldn't help but ponder questions, desperately trying to battle the bubbling terror and force it to the back of his mind.

What was happening to him? Why the pain, the suffering, the agony?

Why the pain? Oh dear Jonathan, the pain is there because your screams are like music to my ears.

That cold, deathly, decaying serpentine voice whispered through his mind like waves rolling across a beach, spreading terror and fear from it like oil in the ocean. It made him want to scream, to cry, to sob and shiver and shudder but he couldn't. Once more, his mind and body were being subdued and crushed by the repressive, demonic hand of the mismatched monstrosity that would not, could not be spoken about.

His mind and body were swiftly released though, followed by a cackling laugh as the beige unicorn lightly shoved the human in the shoulder, trying to draw his attention and to extract him from his own, poisonous thoughts.

Jonathan turned his head in a detached manner to stare into the emerald eyes, deep fear unsettling him from his own body almost like the powerful, beastly God. What he saw in those canopy, leafy green eyes though drew him back to the land of the living fully and it filled him with such hope, happiness and joy that he felt the fear diminish, the pain reduce to merely an ache and his heart lift in his chest.

Those green eyes were full of such care, such compassion, such a need to help and comfort that it drew the terror and the pain out of Jonathan like a splinter from a wound, making his head throb and his heart hammer with joy. He grasped that feeling, of love and comfort before it could flee and with it he dragged himself out, once more, from the dark hole of depression, struggling to regain his will and his composure.

The little beige unicorn seemed to feel that Jonathan had returned for he pulled his hoof away from its resting place and spoke up in a curious but pitiful voice that made Jonathan's heart swell.

“Do you need anything?”

Jonathan swallowed hard, eyes focusing on the little pony with such a deep look of gratitude that shook the tiny unicorn to his core with the strength and the passion behind those golden eyes.

“I need...”

What did he need? There was nothing, nothing that could stop the torment and the horror that was going on inside his head. There was nothing that could dull his mental turmoil or drown his inner-most fears. There was nothing that could subdue the animal in his mind or put down the chaotic demon that resided inside. No, he needed something though, something useful, something helpful, something physical that he could feel and grip, something that was real, not false and lying, deceitful and whispering.

“...I need a bath.”

[.]

The warm, washing, cleansing water pooled around his body, forced into the confines of a large, shining silver bath, slipping over the edge occasionally to splash against the orange tiled floor. Jonathan sighed with relief and relaxation as he sunk lower into the bubbled, pure but now grimy water that purified his body, washing away the smell of sweat, blood and urine.

It had taken the unicorn, who had introduced himself as Band Aid, exactly fifteen minutes to locate and drag a royal sized bathtub back to the infirmary chambers, huffing and moaning down the corridor, horn straining under the heavy weight, more used to detailed, fiddly surgery then heavy lifting. When he had arrived in the infirmary, puffing and panting heavily, cheeks and face flushed Jonathan had begun to drag himself out of bed to offer his assistance, only to remember that he was completely naked and in no case wanting to uncover himself to the innocent looking pony.

The unicorn had then turned one of the taps on, completely unconnected to any water source and much to Jonathan's amazement, clear, crispy, flowing water had spewed forth like a geyser. He had briefly asked Band Aid how it had worked and the obscured reply of “magic” had certainly not left his appetite for knowledge fed. Before he could enquire further into the subject though, the water had cut off and Band Aid had poured a strange yellow mixture into the bath, bubbles spewing forth from where the dust hit.

Without a single word, Band Aid had left the room, giving Jonathan some much needed solitude as he clambered out of his dirtied bed, aching legs shaking on the floor and the soles of his feet freezing on touch with the tiles as he painstakingly made his way over to the glimmering, rounded, silver, golden tapped bath, reaching one finger in to touch the water before he withdrew it hissing at the heat.

Soon enough though he had allowed himself to drift into the bath, first his legs, then his torso, his chest, his arms and then the bottom of his neck had been submerged, washing away the dirt and cleansing the grime.

There, in that bath, he had begun to ponder his rising fears and then, just as swiftly he came to a realization that brought a smile to his face, a realization that allowed him to relax and to sink deeper into the bath, bubbles swirling around his eyes in a glittering dance.

There were ponies out there, Celestia and Band Aid who cared for him, who comforted him, who loved him, who felt compassion for him that should have been reserved for a member of their family, not a random, mismatched, desecrated minded creature that had awoken in the bed of a deity. He felt happy, relaxed, carefree, knowing that out there, right now there were ponies who would help him, who would understand him, who would make sure that no matter what happened, he could never give into his fear, his worries, his doubts.

He felt safe knowing that as long as they were around him, he could not be drawn away, singled out and then corrupted.

And what happens when they are not here for you Jonathan? What happens to you then?

That purring, wriggling voice wormed through his mind once more, shattering the joyous and happy realization as though it were made of glass.

The bathwater no longer felt warm, the air no longer felt clean, his body no longer felt numbed, his mind no longer felt carefree as he asked and tried to answer that question, that simple question that scared him, that terrified him to the point where he curled his head into the crook of his elbows, resting his forehead upon the edge of the bathtub as he allowed himself to weep in fear and the horrid realization that his epiphany could not save him.

He had felt the flame of hope for a second and then it had been snuffed out.

His eyes glanced down at the rippling, tear plopping water of the bath and just for a second he saw a separate face, golden eyed, snaggle-toothed, white bearded, mismatched horned, black maned, brown furred and twisted with a sickening, sadistic smile before the pool of liquid rippled and his own reflection returned, his gaunt, horrified face now visible.

From somewhere behind him, he heard the soft whooshing of wind and the quiet giggling of a maniac.

A/N: I know I said he would get a beard, meet Harmony and talk to Celly a bit more next chapter but I didn't quite realize that this chapter would be so long and, as such, I have had to split it into two parts.

Do not fret, I shall (hopefully) have the next chapter up tomorrow.

Anyway, tell me what you think of this chapter and I know things are a little slow but I want to increase Discord's fear factor because in the future there won't be so much time to work on it.

Also, rickrolled.

Picking Up The Pace

Band Aid had returned after Jonathan had finished his relatively short bath, excited smile barely hidden behind a stoic, professional expression that diverted all manner of will to achieve. Jonathan had, of course, been garbed in white robes that were, much to the humans chagrin, actually dresses made by a selection of famous fashion designers in Canterlot, all had not been informed of the usage of said dresses.

The “toga” as the human liked to call it, grumbling and refusing to call it a dress, was a nice, carefully stitched piece of art with great rolling swashes of fabric, made to show off the hips of the mare who wore it, now created to show of the slightly extended belly of the human, the dress barely covering his knees with the length. Still, Band Aid was relatively happy that he did not have to see the humans lower area, especially after the first time when he had had to remove its clothing, along with his assistants, True Heart had nigh on dead fainted at the rather revealing sight.

Still, best not to dwell on the past.

Right now the human was stretching and looking over himself, occasionally hissing and grumbling as his bruised, battered, cut and aching body screamed at him to desist with these foolish acts, to simply lie back down in his nice soft bed. Still, Band Aid had to admire his will and his determination to remain standing despite the obvious agony he was feeling, a brave but foolish act really.

Band Aid trotted calmly over to the bath and with a flick of his beige magic, sent the remaining water gurgling and spinning down the plughole where it would land Celestia knows where. The sudden noise had caught the humans attention, who watched the peculiar display with rapt awareness and awe filled eyes.

Those eyes though, not matter how happy, joyous or awe filled, always tingled a memory in the back of Band Aid's mind, a memory of dark things and terrible dangers.

His attention was quickly captured though when the human spoke up in his incredibly deep voice, the sound like the roar of a dragon or the crash of wave on rock.

“Thanks for that, eh, Bandage? I needed that...”

Band Aid couldn't help but grin, even despite the name slip-up. Here was an honest to Celestia alien and it was thanking him, him.

“Band Aid and think nothing of it...Jonathan? It's my duty to help all those that are injured, even non-ponies.”

This managed to bring a shaky, subdued smile to the humans face, though he still looked pale and pasty, as if something was troubling him. No, not troubling him as much as tormenting him. Band Aid had seen a lot of trauma in his time, from broken arms to shock induced injuries but the look in this creatures eyes. It was like nothing he had seen before and he prayed that he would never have to see it again.

“Well thanks again. I, ah, have a few questions about where I am exactly. I wasn't really in that great a condition last time Celestia came to see me.”

Band Aid couldn't contain his own beaming grin at this sudden development. Getting to actually speak, not to mention bond with the alien was something that would put him down in the record books forever. With much visible and mental restraint, he pulled his emotions down and spoke in an equalised voice.

“Ask away.”

Jonathan brought a hand up to his nearly hairless chin, pulling on his single white hair, making him involuntary yelp in surprise as a sharp pain shot through him, eyes watering slightly before he spoke up in a partially calm voice with a slight tremor at the end that most certainly suggested that he was pretty damn close to another breaking point.

“Where exactly am I?”

Band Aid pondered the question for a second, thinking of the best way to reply before he spoke up in a voice that wavered with excitement.

“Well, you're in Equestria and are currently staying in its capital, named Canterlot.”

The look of you're kidding, right? On Jonathan's face would surely have been visible from the other side of the room.

“Camelot?”

“Umm...no, Canterlot.”

The freshened, delectable smelling human turned his head away for a second, golden eyes darkening and mouth muttering something about ridiculous names before he turned back and asked another question in an oddly detached voice.

“Where in Canterlot am I?”

“You're in the castle of the royal sisters. Princess Celestia herse-”

Band Aid was rather rudely interrupted by a sharp gasp from the human and a garbled exclamation from his mouth, a lightning fast sentence bolting through the air.

“Celestia is a princess!?”

Band Aid struggled to breath for a second, the foolish, silly question that had escaped the humans lips baffling him. Did he honestly not know?

“Why yes, of course she is.”

Once more, the human turned his head to the side but this time his eyes flashed in a way that, if Band Aid did not know the mentally troubled human, would have assumed was a malicious glint. Quickly enough though, those eerily familiar golden eyes returned to him as the human asked the next question.

“So, how many different types of ponies are there? I've seen you and Cel- Princess Celestia now but are there any more?”

Band Aid happily opened his mouth to reply before the heavy, ringing noise of golden horseshoes on marble cracked his attention like ice, making him swivel his head towards the doorway, expecting his one-of-a-kind visitor any second now. The noise though, much to his relief was rather far off but approaching fast, the echo rolling down the greatly acoustical corridors to reach the rather quirky pair, human and pony, minutes before the source of the noise arrived.

Band Aid turned back to Jonathan who was like-mindedly staring at the door, expecting the only visitor that had yet to make that particular noise. Band Aid desperately wanted to stay with the human, to answer his questions and then to maybe ask some of his own but, with a sigh, he resigned himself to the fact that that wasn't his job. Celestia would fair much better at it then him.

With a grunt of minor annoyance, Band Aid piped up once more, drawing the humans attention as he spoke in an uncharacteristically saddened voice.

“Look, I'm sorry but I should probably get out of here so the princess can speak to you properly. I promise you she will answer all of your questions though and don't worry, I'll be back soon enough.”

Band Aid was quite shocked at the effect his words seemed to have on the human who looked at him with such gratitude and such a deep set look of happiness that it warmed the doctoral ponies heart. It looked like his words had struck home when they had not meant to, it looked like the human was clasping onto them. It looked like he had grabbed them and held them close like a life preserver in the ocean.

With a somewhat stuttering voice, Jonathan spoke up to the little unicorn.

“T-thanks.”

Band Aid smiled lightly before he began to trot past Jonathan to the wooden door to give him some space.

The next thing the unicorn saw were the orange tiles rushing up to meet him.

His muzzle collided with the orange stone with a sickening crunch that reverberated around the hospital room, stars exploding in his vision and tears stinging and trailing from his eyes as a few drops of scarlet blood dripped from his nose and onto the floor. Behind him, he could hear a sharp intake of breath as an astounding, uncomfortable realization spewed into his dazed, swirling, battered mind.

Jonathan had tripped him.

With a loud groan and a quiet whimper, Band Aid shifted himself so he was laying on his back, facing the ceiling as the blood dripped and dried on his face, coating and sticking his beige fur with flecks and tides of red. The stars continued to swirl around his mind, performing a taunting, ridiculing dance that made the stallion shake his head to clear his mind. Through watery eyes, he saw Jonathan reaching towards him and yet he couldn't help but notice the malicious twinkle in those eyes that stored humour and sadistic pleasure at having tripped him.

With a blink of tear-filled eyes, Band Aid looked up at Jonathan whose face had resumed its original look, the malice, humour and monstrous pleasure gone to be replaced by guilt and fear, making Band Aid believe that he had, of course, been seeing things in those golden eyes. After all, Jonathan had never seemed violent or cruel, he surely wouldn't have tripped the beige unicorn up, he was simply too nice.

Those dexterous, rough but smooth fingers reached down towards Band Aid, who returned a hoof upwards, those slender fingers gripping his furred appendage and pulling the little unicorn up as if he were a fallen book on the floor, startling Band Aid who yelped out in shock at his sudden movement.

His hooves firmly planted on the red dotted yet still predominately orange floor, Band Aid experienced a severe moment of dizziness as his head swam and blood sluggishly pumped out of his nose before he shook his head and reached one hoof up to his face, tilting his head backwards and spoke up in a nasally voice, trying to stop the flow of blood from his nose.

“Thanks Jonathan. Don't know what happened to me, must've tripped.”

Had Band Aid been looking at Jonathan he surely would have noticed the fleeting look of guilt and also a sick sense of twisted mirth fly across his face but with his head tilted backwards he could only see the white ceiling. Jonathan's voice piped up, somewhat shakily but still the same measured, forcefully calm voice as ever.

“Oh, no problem. I've slipped up on air quite a few times before.”

Band Aid let out a little chuckle before he moved his hoof and gently dabbed his nose, drawing it back to find no fresh blood, tilting his head back down with a content sigh, the sound nearly silenced by the ever approaching ring of armoured hooves. Band Aid smiled at Jonathan and nodded his head in thanks, disregarding the shivering, pale humans appearance as nothing more then shock at his little tumble. Blood was not a usual occurrence in Equestria, only young fillies and colts would draw the scarlet liquid from scrapes and bruises, the older the pony, the more careful they seemed to get.

“Well, thanks again. I'd better be on my way.”

Jonathan nodded his head jerkily as Band Aid passed by him, the beige unicorn trotting calmly through the infirmary, reminding himself to find a bathroom and clean himself and then, when the pair had finished talking, the hospital floor.

With a low creak and a mighty slam, Band Aid moved through the door and left Jonathan alone, the almost ominous sound of heavy hooves drawing closer and closer like the tolling of a church bell.

[.]

He had tripped him.

That single thought charged around Jonathan's head like a bull in a chine shop, crashing and knocking any wandering thoughts out of the way.

He had tripped him.

And afterwards, seeing the dazed unicorn on the floor, blood around him, he had wanted to laugh.

Jonathan swallowed bile and repulsion, his hands shaking and his body drained and pale white, eyes dilated slightly as he shivered both from the cold and from a deeper feeling of dread. He had enjoyed that, that feeling of power at having the unicorn at his feet, grovelling and bleeding upon the floor. He had wanted to laugh and bellow chuckles, he had wanted to stomp down on the beige head and make the doctor scream for mercy.

An exquisite taste of humour, isn't it?

That cold, hard, distressing voice followed by a harsh bark of laughter was enough to send Jonathan into deeper shivers before he swallowed his fear with an audible gulp, drawing himself up and narrowing his eyes in anger at nothing in sight. He wouldn't, couldn't show fear. He couldn't lose to this monster, he couldn't allow himself to appear weak. He had to be strong, had to be courageous and brave because if he wasn't, he feared the process that the monster, that Discord had described would speed up and his mind and his body would be consumed.

Another round of patronizing, perverse, vicious laughter echoed around his mind, whispering to him that it knew his fears, that he couldn't hide how he felt from it for it was him and, soon, it would be so much more. Jonathan growled in anger and smothered fear at the sound before he noticed that the hooves of Celestia had fallen silent, the thick emptiness of the air making him feel nervous.

With a quiet creak and muffled click of a locking door, Celestia strode into the room, magenta eyes immediately flicking downwards towards the drying but still distinguishable pool of blood, those caring, comforting orbs widening in alarm as she let out a slight gasp that barely reached Jonathan's ears. The sight of her worrying over a pool of blood that he had caused made Jonathan feel rotten and corrupt, it made him feel monstrous and disorderly but just for a split second, he felt a jolt of happiness belch from him, as if he enjoyed that beastly emotion before it was swallowed up by guilt.

With a rather rapid approach, Celestia walked up to Jonathan, whose eyes were glancing everywhere but at her as she stopped to inspect him, worry pricking her usually calm voice.

“Jonathan, what happened here?”

Jonathan gulped as the voice inside him screamed and shrieked to tell her the truth, to say that he had tripped Band Aid, to say that he had liked him but once more, that hand clamped his mind and forced lying words from his mouth.

“Band Aid tripped and fell onto his nose. I helped him up.”

His voice sounded disjointed and wrong, like a puppets but Celestia didn't seem to notice, her expression changing from worry to relief at the news. Band Aid could look after himself, he was a doctor after all.

“Why that sounds very gentlecoltly of you Jonathan. How are you feeling?”

Celestia could have sworn that she saw a deep look of revulsion and unsettling guilt at her words but Jonathan's expression returned to normal in the blink of an eye as he spoke up in that same calm, if somewhat shaky voice.

“Better then yesterday, plus I had a bath so I don't smell quite as bad as I did before.”

This brought a small smile to Celestia's ancient face, a sight that would usually warm the humans soul but now it left him feeling dirty and disturbed, as if he had robbed that smile from her with his lies and treachery. He barely heard Celestia's next words through the crippling wave of rolling emotions that exploded through his mind.

“I did wonder why you were wearing one of Hoity-Toity's dresses. It rather suits you.”

Jonathan forced a worn, pale grin onto his face at Celestia's teasing, yet motherly tones, his own voice, real and whole this time, rose up to answer her in a fake hurt voice, surprising himself with his apparent humour talk with a princess.

“Not a dress, this, this is a toga!”

The infirmary rang with little peals of tinkling laughter that flowed from Celestia's mouth like sweet music, making Jonathan blush and suppress a heightened feeling of joy and happiness, his old, deceptive feelings vanishing like mist.

“Well, it is a very handsome toga. Now, if I may be so bold, since our last meeting was stopped quite suddenly I have gathered a few, small questions for you if you would allow me to ask them?”

How could he refuse her, the radiant ruler of Equestria. Jonathan spoke up once more in a devoted, happy voice that overflowed with tranquillity and peace, his previous thoughts drowned and forgotten.

“Of course Celestia.”

Celestia let out a small smile at this, making Jonathan smile similarly before she began her questioning.

“Now, where is it you come from exactly?”

“Its a place called Earth, Celestia. I live in a rather large city called Southampton which is in a country called England.”

Celestia appeared baffled by the new information, her head tilting to the side slightly and her eyes sparking with curiosity and confusion before she spoke up again in a calm but quizzical voice.

“And of your race, the humans, how many of you are there?”

Jonathan pondered the question for a moment before he opened his mouth to reply. Just as he did so, a strong, reminiscent gust of wind tore through the room as his words twisted once more.

“Three.”

Celestia frowned before she spoke up again with disbelief.

“Excuse me?”

Jonathan shook his head, aghast and horrified that he had attempted to lie to a princess again, not noticing the cackling laugh that quietly moved around his head.

“S-seven billion of us I think.”

At this Celestia's eyes truly widened and Jonathan heard her whisper the number under her breath before she spoke up once again in that carefully crafted voice.

“And what are your people like?”

Jonathan paused for a second, eyes narrowing as he tried to come up with a fair, just, true term to use for what humans were truly like deep down and yet he found nothing that suited them, nothing that expressed who they were or what they did. So instead he opted to go out using the easy route.

“Different. Every one of us is different and spectacular, capable of great good and great evil.”

Celestia seemed to accept that answer without any distress or frustration, instead bowing her head as she continued to speak in that serene, beautiful, perfect voice that washed away all worries.

“And what do your people do exactly?”

Jonathan frowned at the question, small traces of aggravation leaking into him as he desperately tried to scrabble for an answer to the very wide, very varied question.

“Anything and everything. If we set our minds to it, I doubt there's something we couldn't do. We humans have all sorts of jobs.”

Celestia smiled a little bit more at the answer, making contentment explode inside Jonathan before she carried on her questions.

“What kind of magic do your people have to get these jobs done?”

At this Jonathan smiled and responded in a cheerful voice, no sign of Discord or his madness tainting his mind.

“None. We have a very advanced level of technology to allow us to do certain things, like fly.”

Celestia seemed to take this in her stride, eyes darkening with confusion but head nodding as she ploughed onto her next question.

“And what is your job?”

Jonathan opened his mouth to speak, only for his ears to be met by his own voice, whispering and hissing, filled with anger and brutal pleasure.

“Causing chaos.”

Celestia narrowed her eyes somewhat as the incoherent, hushed voice of the human spread to her, the words distorted and indecipherable and yet the tone of voice, the anger and the malice were not to be mistook.

“Pardon?”

Jonathan spluttered in astonishment and unbridled fear as the chuckling laughter returned louder then ever, smashing around his mind as he wheezed out his sentence through a thick layer of cloudy terror and deep bafflement.

“I'm a-a maths teacher.”

Celestia seemed to struggle for a second, trying to decide between asking over the peculiar, chilling change of voice or merely going onto the next question, choosing the latter after a moment hesitation. She needed to know more about him, to put her mind at ease.

“And, do all humans look like you, the golden eyes, the...the tooth?”

Jonathan longed to scream the truth, to tell her everything, to explain, to reply, to just speak in his own voice, in his own body and yet, once more, that hand grasped his mind and compelled his lips to move and his tongue to quiver, his voice to rise up and escape from his throat.

“Yes.”

Celestia pondered the rather short, sharp reply with a hint of trepidation at the humans refusal to enlighten her further on the subject of his appearance before her curiosity got the better of her and she began to dig further and further into the subject.

“So, every single human is born with golden eyes and a sharp tooth?”

Jonathan's eyes flickered for a second as he glanced at her eyes and for a minute moment, Celestia could have sworn that they screamed for help before the juvenile, happy voice of the human spoke up again.

“Nah, only the handsome ones.”

Celestia raised her eyebrow at this, not out of anger, nor rage but out of a sudden and deep surprise at the once nervous, jittery humans humorous antics, trying to suss out what had gotten him in such a joking mood before the expression of mirth fell from his face to be replaced by a swift look of shock and guilt as he spoke up once more in that happy but partially anxious voice that she had accustomed him to.

“I didn't...I mean I...”

Celestia let out a forced, nervous laugh at the humans peculiar antics, her emotions shifting between pity for the confused, broken human and fear from the sudden change he seemed to keep experiencing, as if he had an entirely different personality.

“Oh no worries Jonathan, t'was merely a joke. Now onto t-”

Pain. That terrible, keening, screaming, tearing, shrieking, boiling pain was back, bombarding through his senses, sending him screaming and writhing to the orange floor, eyes exploding with tears, mouth open and jaw wide enough to ache. Red, blue, purple and green blurs tore through his vision, intermingling and swamping the scenery with strobing, flashing lights, watery eyes dousing the view with blurred outlines. Sobs rose from his chest, breaking into the air and ricocheting off of the walls and the ceilings to bounce around every aspect of the room, screams pouring from his throat, drowning in his salty tears as the pain intensified.

Celestia backed up, fear and horror written across her face as Jonathan fell to the floor shrieking and convulsing, sweat already forming around him as he continued to stare straight ahead with those tear-filled, pain-filled eyes. She wanted to run, to flee the scene. Only seconds ago she had been having a somewhat rational conversation with an alien, a real alien but now something had occurred and all Celestia could think about any more was how much she wanted that dreadful keening, terror inducing noise to stop.

He could hear nothing but distant screaming and a cold, harsh laugh. He could see nothing but blurs of colours, red tinged eyes and watered tears soaking his body. He could smell nothing other then the metallic smell of blood and the reeking stench of sweat. He could taste nothing but scarlet blood and dust kicked up from the floor. He could feel nothing but the endless, stabbing, clawing, biting pain that wormed its way across his face, the jabbing, roughly caressing needles digging into the skin above his eyes, the same, jaw-stretching, dislocating agony creeping into his chin. He needed this to stop, he couldn't go through this again, he couldn't. It would kill him and, right now, that didn't seem like such a bad thing.

Celestia back-pedalled even more furiously as the screams and the flailing intensified, feeling tears of her own trail down her eyes, tears of pity and tears of failure at being too cowardly, too weak to help him. It was those eyes, even now she didn't want to get close to him, she feared him even when he had done nothing to her. Those eyes. Those wicked, cruel eyes.

Celestia whimpered as the screams tore through her ears once more, as the sobs rose up from the huddled, weeping, shrieking, shaking mass that was once a human, tears and sweat pooling around his shivering body, eyes wide open and filled with licks of flames and tales of unbearable agony. The howls and wails grew higher and higher, the sobs grew more powerful, the eyes drew upon a manic, satanic look, the gold orbs sparking with life, the objects of terror, the symphony of horror reaching a crescendo as the human curled into a tight ball.

And then quite suddenly, everything fell silent.

Jonathan lay in a tightly clenched ball on the floor, rocking back and forth, his face hidden within the folds of his toga and his hair jutting out between his fingers, two hands clasped and grasping his head viciously. Celestia took a quivering, hesitant step towards him, hooves ringing around the infirmary as she placed one golden horseshoe to the tiled floor. Soon enough, she had gathered enough courage to make her way over to the rocking Jonathan, placing one cold but still gentle hoof onto his shoulder in a sign of comfort and friendship, care and compassion.

Dimly, Celestia could hear the rapping of six sets of hooves echoing down corridors to worm their way into her ears, the sound vaguely reminiscent, as if she should remember something about them, something important. Still, she could not let her thoughts wander, not now anyway. Jonathan the human was hurt, in pain and she had nearly let her own fright overcome her compassion and she was not about to let go of the human that she had so nearly abandoned.

That sound, of hooves on marble, seemed to draw closer and closer, seemed to get louder and louder before, without her consent, a single, pulsing thought sprung to Celestia's mind, a single smidgen of an idea of who the owners of said noise could possibly be. Celestia's eyes bolted wide open, small tingles of panic shooting through her.

They're early. It couldn't possibly be them!

Yet those six unmistakeable hoof-steps drew closer and closer to the shivering ball of pain and fear and the standing form of a regal princess whose mind was shrouded with irritation, terror and panic, a mixture that swirled and dived into one disgusting huddle of emotions.

Jonathan felt destroyed, empty. He felt like a shell of what he once was. That terrible sweeping pain had returned and devoured him but that was not the worst part for him. No, the worst part was that he knew that someday, he would have to experience that kind of pain again, that horrifying, gut-wrenching agony. So he lay in a ball and he rocked back and forth, tears spent, mind numb, body desecrated, soul destroyed. Vaguely he felt something like hair tickle his arm, caressing his skin but he didn't care. He was lost in a world of fear and desperation.

Celestia's eyes widened as six voices joined the sound of six hooves, each tone, each tremor of a sound instantly recognizable by the solar princess and yet, instead of lending her comfort, it sent a jolt of alarm through her body as she turned to stare at the wooden door of the hospital, glancing away from the twisted, soul-blackened human.

No, it's too early. They're too early!

Still the hooves and the voices came closer and, quite groggily, Jonathan heard them though to him it didn't matter. He just continued to curl into his tight, protective ball, trying to cry and yet unable to.

Celestia frowned at the door for a split second, her agitation eating her up as the voices drew closer before she turned back to the unfortunate, beaten and decrepit
human to whisper softly to him and him alone.

“I am truly sorry Jonathan for what is about to occur.”

That voice, filled with both comfort and a sense of one giving up, of consternation and suppressed distress roused Jonathan from the confines of his mind, his worry at what new horror may happen next, what fresh terror may envelop him making him uncurl himself from his defence just as Celestia turned to face the door, the voices now closer but no less incoherent.

The door opened with a mighty crash and a roar of voices.

Jonathan looked up, his sight from the floor muffled and drenched by crusted tears that settled upon his eyes, distorting reality, blurring colour with colour into a medley of tones and shades.

Six. There were six hazy blobs of colours. Six barricading and barring the doorway. Six gasps of shock. Six nervous fidgeting. Six different voices. There was a butter yellow blur, a sunset orange haze, a sky blue daze, a snow white figure, a lavender purple character and, the most astounding of all, a bright, bubblegum pink blob. The crusty, dried, concealing tears filled his vision, halting any true features of the new forms and yet Jonathan knew that they had to be ponies, the clip clop of hooves, the high pitched gasps of breath.

And quite suddenly, Jonathan felt a shiver of fear run through him but it was not his own.

That beast, the monster that had stalked his dreams, that had turned him satanic and corrupt was scared of these new arrivals and that alone gave Jonathan the strength to struggle to his knees and gaze at the new ponies more closely.

Celestia turned around to face him, having silenced the chattering group with a single, penetrating look but what she saw when she turned to face the human, his new features made her gasp out of shock and fear for she had seen them before on the face of chaos embodied.

Jonathan noticed the gasp, the intake of surprise and fear from Celestia but he didn't have the time to turn to look at her, didn't even have the time to let out a single word before the pink blob literally appeared in front of him, deep pools of blue staring into glazed eyes of gold as a bubbly, overjoyed, hyperactive voice bounced from her throat filled with warmth and happiness and yet her words, her statement sent chills of fright through Jonathan's body.

“I really like its beard!”

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this chapter but here it finally is and I decided to speed things up a bit since some people were getting bored.

Firstly, I will be going to Berlin for a week starting sunday so new chapters won't be out for a little while unless I manage to slip one in rather quickly before sunday.

Secondly, sorry for taking things slowly at first and from now on I won't be spending an entire chapter with Jonathan only doing one little thing. I hope.

Thirdly, Celestia is acting all scared because, well, she knows that the most powerful creation in all of Equestria recently snapped, his stone statue seems suspicious and Jonathan was in her bloody bed.

Finally, the next chapter will unveil what Jonathan will do now that he is here and will also delve into the scared, childishly foolish mind of Celestia as she tries to swallow her fear over the memorable sight of Jonathan.

Enjoy and tell me what you think.

A Stirring Of Rebellion

Jonathan tried not to scream at the sight of the pink blur before him, eyes remaining useless at smaller details as that simple, happy, carefree sentence whistled around his head to join a mess of throbbing, pulsing, seething thoughts that refused to fall silent, stirred together as if they were in a cauldron.

I really like its beard!

Jonathan tried to suppress a shudder at those words, spoken with such warmth and yet delivered with such fear and horror. The whole room had fallen silent, those bright, blue eyes still staring almost feverishly into those saddened, darkening golden eyes as Jonathan swallowed his terror and his trepidation to speak up in a croaky, scratchy voice, throat raw from his once piercing screams that had rocketed through the air.

“W-what beard?”

This seemed to rouse the room, the air suddenly filled by a chorus of voices, a squawk of mixing, incoherent tones that only served to heighten Jonathan's fear and frustration, those high pitched, whining voices drilling into his mind with a message that was unheard, a message of vital importance to him halted by the speedy talking of colourful creatures.

One voice though, one beautiful, harmonic, magnificent voice rose above the rest, drowning them out with the hints of a single word as the clear, cutting voice of Princess Celestia tore through infirmary, silencing everything else.

“Now now my little ponies, Jonathan has just experienced something most...strange and we would do well to leave him to recover.”

Jonathan wanted to tell her, to yell at her that right now he needed her company, he needed any company. He didn't want to be alone, he didn't want to be confused, scared and panicking by himself, lest that evil, decaying voice attempt to corrupt him. He needed something, anything to keep him sane but, most of all, he needed an answer to his naked, unanswered question that kept revolving around his mind, spinning and shrieking like a klaxon alarm.

With a tremendous push of mental effort, he raised his hand upwards to reach out towards Celestia in a scared, pitiful look and yet the fleeting glance of terror that shone through her face made him drop the arm immediately. It was as if she were scared of him, of what he was becoming. It was as if she knew and this alone cracked Jonathan's will power, driving a whimper from his throat and a short, sharp nod from his head that knocked a stray, protected tear from his eye to fall onto the dried blood patch of the hospital floor with a soft plink.

A muttered sentence split the air, falling to deaf human ears as Jonathan fell victim to his own churning mind, blocking out all other sounds as his eyes roamed the ground around him, as his hands fidgeted and as the sweat trickled coldly down his back, making him shiver. Still, he could not fully ignore the sight, nor the sound of the solar princess trotting heavily over to him with concealed, dark eyes and neither could he ignore her serene voice that trembled with a hint of worry at the end, the tones seeping into him and helping to soothe his burning, aching mind.

“We will be right outside if you need us.”

Jonathan nodded blankly as Celestia backed away and signalled with a light flick of her tail for the girls to leave the room, the door creaking open as six hooves stepped outside, the seventh, golden hooves halting before they exited for the owner to throw a nervous but pitiful glance back at Jonathan before she too left the room, the door closing with a muffled creak behind her.

His mind screamed at him, at Celestia and at the six for abandoning him, for leaving and fleeing him when he needed them the most but his body moved on auto-pilot, pacing frantically around the room as Jonathan tried to visibly restrain his trembling. Sweat dampened his hair, his eyes rolled across the room sightlessly, his hands quivered, the taste and smell of blood and sweat filled both the air and his mouth but most importantly, the feeling of abandonment, fear and panic trickled through his mind, waiting to pour forth like a broken dam.

He had to know what that pink figure was talking about, he had to find out what new horror awaited him, he had to both prepare and brace himself for a discovery that he knew must not be put off for long, unless the fear and lust for answers consume him. He needed to know and with a task in his mind, with a plan on his thoughts instead of fear and repulsion, he set out to find a mirror in the vastness of the infirmary.

His footsteps rung around the room with low thuds as he trudged sluggishly up to the brown, wooden desk at the back of the room, eyes downcast, mind spinning as he carelessly reached his hands up to the desk and jumped over it, sending a tingle of pain through him where his bruises and cuts strained against the sudden movement. He had to find a mirror.

His feet struck the floor behind the desk loudly as his hands whistled through the air to slam down on the wooden surface with a resounding crack, a small hiss of pain escaping Jonathan before he began to search feverishly for a mirror, or a pane of glass or anything reflective. He had to find a mirror.

His hands, still shaking, reached forward to uncover piles of paper, rooting hopelessly for a mirror, his mind blank but behind a thin barrier a roaring tide of emotions braced itself to be free, his mind barely occupied with his search that managed to desperately fight off the fear and the anger that swelled within. Paper, ink and quills were sent flying to the floor under the humans convulsing hand as his vicious search for a mirror began to climb to a terrified pinnacle, the fear and the anger punching small holes through his shield. He had to find a mirror.

Abandoning the search of the now scattered, desecrated desk, Jonathan turned his attention to the three drawers that settled snugly into the woodwork, hands reaching out to clasp the first, cold metal handle as he yanked it open to reveal layers upon layers of thick paperwork, each one scribbled over with ink and a series of red stamps, ranging from Failed to Passed. He had to find a mirror.

The second drawer heralded a small squeak of protest as he opened it before Jonathan gazed inside at what the wooden shelter harboured within its murky depths. A series of brightly wrapped, spherical sweets sprung out at him, orange, yellow, blue and green wrappers winking at him from the dark brown corners of the drawers, swirling patterns etched onto the half opened sweets. It wasn't what he needed though. He had to find a mirror.

His hands were shaking so ferociously, the roaring lion that was his emotions battering away at his mind so viciously that his grip on the third and final handle was so weak, so pathetic that it took him a little over a minute to actually pull the draw open, his eyes beginning to water again, vomit rising up in his throat before bright light shone down upon the open draw, revealing a single, hand sized mirror.

With shivering hands, Jonathan reached down and plucked up the small, golden edged mirror, turning his gaze away to draw in a deep breath before he plunged his head backwards to face whatever would return his gaze head on, tossing aside his crippling emotions for a second with a great burst of courage.

The first thing he noticed was his new bone-white, bushy, canopy-esque eyebrows that seemed to shine the colour of the moon, glaring back at his face almost angrily as if they had not wished to be discovered, as if they were something his pathetic eyes should never have seen. His once immaculate, perfect hair above his eyes had been ruffled and spiked, great jagged edges of hair twisting and stabbing through the air like spears.

The second thing he noticed was the beard.

It hung from his chin like a great, twisted piece of crumbling, bleached white, unkempt clump of earth, knotted and such a startlingly white colour that it dazzled Jonathan's eyes. It too was jagged and pointed, chaotic and impure, a disastrous creation of years, of lifetimes without combing or cutting. It looked dirty, rotten even. It felt sickening, sitting upon his face like a parasite ready to drain him. It felt like him, the voice that whispered in his head, the voice that laughed at his fears and terrors. He wished he never found the mirror.

His grasp on the mirror slipped and faltered, his whole body turning numb with the realization that, once again, he had been altered, changed, manipulated into the start of a demon. The mirror fell from his grasp with a light slip of sweat guiding its way.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, the mirror plummeting, spinning, dancing through the air, throwing up twinkles of flashing light around the room as beams of orange caught its surface. Jonathan's mind raced and spat with a cold feeling of dread the poisoned his limbs, that turned his body to a mindless husk, a shrivelled shell that seemed calm and serene despite the turmoil that boiled within him. That cold, harsh laughter tore from deep within his mind, louder and louder until it penetrated all senses, until he could practically smell the monster, until he could practically see him. Still his body remained still and silent as cawing, bashing, battling emotions clawed into his mind.

The mirror hit the orange tiles with a loud shatter of glass just as a strong wind blitzed through the hospital, the laughter increasing to an even greater height.

Somewhere behind him, Jonathan heard a door, the door open with a crash but he couldn't pay it any attention. His body was frozen but his mind was running faster then ever with horrible thoughts and sick feelings.

[.]

Moments earlier

Celestia closed the wooden door leading to the hospital with a small creak and a slight click, letting out a deep, pent-up breath whilst doing so, not realizing that all throughout that new experience she had been keeping her air locked tightly inside of her chest.

The Elements of Harmony had backed themselves further down the corridor, each one whispering to each other, telling tales, reciting stories and discussing the creature in the infirmary. All members bar a single, purple unicorn were in a heated discussion, Twilight merely standing off to the side, glancing at Celestia every now and again with a clearly worried, frightened expression on her face that almost immediately forced Celestia back into her carefully crafted mentality of kind ruler, dispersing her fears with practised control as she beheld one of her subjects glancing at her with the same scared look that she had once possessed.

She had to be strong, not for herself but for her subjects. She had to be the powerful, brave, courageous, calm leader that her ponies wanted her to be, needed her to be. She could no longer wallow in her own fear, the expression of timid worry and fear on Twilight's face drawing Celestia out of her shell like a hermit crab. She had citizens to protect, to care for. She did not have the time to follow ghost tales or her own fears.

With those thoughts in mind, Celestia calmed herself, regaining her regal look and her quiet dignity, dispelling fears and worries to the wind with a refined skill that would leave even the most famous rulers jealous. That look on Twilight's face had cinched the deal for her, that look that she had once worn now portrayed on the face of her apprentice, just the right push to throw away her petty, foolish terrors.

Still, Celestia couldn't quite completely ignore that nagging voice of doubt in the back of her mind and, soon enough, she decided that though her fears may be foolish, playing safe was no task that would cause her to lose sleep and, with that in mind, she began to form a plan of sorts to route out the source of her worry, to dig and discover whether or not this human could be trusted.

Slowly and with dainty, quiet steps that muzzled and disguised the sound of her rather heavy, rather obnoxious hooves, Celestia made her way around the chattering group who remained oblivious to her movements, inching herself closer to her protégée who kept stealing purple eyed glances at the roaming solar princess.

Swiftly and silently, Celestia made her way over to Twilight who smiled rather shakily at the princess, teeth to vivid, mouth to wide to be anything but a nervous grin. Still, Celestia returned the smile with a light flick of her lips, drawing a small sigh of relief from the young mare. With a gentle movement, Celestia lowered her swan-like neck to meet Twilight's head in a motherly gesture, hearing the young unicorn hum with content, the sound bringing a fresh smile onto Celestia's face.

The pair pulled back, the soft talking of five mares continuing on without them as Twilight opened her mouth to speak before she was silenced by a single, outstretched, golden armoured hoof that popped into her jaw, leaking coldness and tasting of metal.

Twilight raised an eyebrow at the rather peculiar antic before her eyes widened slightly as Celestia signalled further down the corridor, indicating that she wished to speak to Twilight in private, without the commotion of the five other mares.

Nearly silently, the duo trotted down the corridor, sunlight glinting off of white marble walls as they vanished around a corner, thinking they had escaped without notice, neither one of them taking note of the butter yellow pegasus that had been throwing looks their way for little over a minute, teal eyes filling with questions as the sun God and the lavender mare disappeared around the corner before she too turned back to the conversation at hoof.

“No, no my dears. It was quite obviously a hairless ape.”

The refined, sophisticated voice of the fashionista Rarity combed through the air, regal tones coursing across the corridor as Fluttershy spoke up in a whisper of a voice.

“Umm...does anypon-”

“C'mon Rares, y'all don't really think it t'was a hairless ape do ya?”

The southern drawl of Applejack split the air, silencing the hushed tones of Fluttershy with ease but also drawing out the bubbly, overjoyed voice of Pinkie Pie.

“Oh, I dunno Jackie. I mean, did you see it? It was huuuuuuuge. It could be an ape, or maybe a whale. I've never seen a whale, have you ever seen a whale? I wou-”

That over the top voice was also silenced by the cracking, abrasive tones of Rainbow Dash who replied in a boisterous voice.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah Pinks. Look, I dunno about you guys but I reckon it's...an alien!”

This was met by a chorus of protest from three girls, the fourth huddled up behind the tight circle, quaking somewhat at the loud noises but still desperately trying to speak up despite the cacophony of disagreements.

“Uh, did anypony see whe-”

“Oh please Rainbow darling, you don't honestly expect us to believe that!”

“Umm...can I jus-”

“Rares has a point Dash, do ya honestly think we'd believe that load-a hooey?”

“Girls, if I could jus-”

“Silly filly, an alien would have awesome tentacles and big, bug eyes and green skin!”

“Please, let me a-”

“Heh, I suppose you guys are right, I mean, what was I thinkin'?”

“Oh for Celestia's sake, let me speak!”

The loud, animalistic roar of anger that erupted from the throat of the usually timid, shy yellow pegasus was enough to knock silence into the four other mares, who turned to face the now partially quivering Fluttershy with astonished eyes and open mouths, as shocked by the display as the butter yellow pegasus was herself. Still, she had asked for the chance to speak and by Luna's night she was going to speak!

“Umm, does anypony know where Twilight and Cel-”

The meek sound of her usual quiet voice was destroyed by the epic, ringing sound of shattering glass that punctured the air and scattered the shards of her sentence to each corner of the corridor. Five pairs of heads whipped around to face the doorway from which the noise had erupted before they turned one hundred and eighty degrees as the banging, clattering sound of Celestia's hooves bounced along the corridor, the mare in question passing by them like a blur, followed by a panting lavender unicorn who was desperately trying to keep up with the princess.

Five small multicoloured ponies and one rather large, rather speedy princess tore through the doorway with a loud thump, causing Fluttershy to sigh in exasperation as she followed them through the doorway, both afraid but also strangely eager to find out what had caused the noise.

[.]

Jonathan shivered, eyes looking down at the fragments of the shattered glass, distorted, sliced reflection gazing back up at him with worn, broken, dead eyes that made the human swallow a deep, freezing ball of icy fear that rose from his gullet. His eyes were monstrous, no wonder Celestia feared him.

He heard the rattle of armoured hooves and dainty steps on orange tiles but he didn't pay it any attention, not yet anyway. He was becoming a monster, a trickster, a demon and there didn't seem to be anything he could do to stop it, to change it. He couldn't speak freely, he couldn't move freely. He couldn't even sleep without waking with a feared sweat and a tormented mind.

He should have been deathly afraid, aghast, horrified and on the point of a complete breakdown at this knowledge of his stolen freedom, his taken free will but instead, for the very first time, Jonathan became truly angry. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. No creature deserved to have their freedom taken away, no creature deserved to have its mind tortured, no creature deserved to have its body changed without its own consent.

He had done nothing wrong, nothing bad in his life and now, now he was being punished by a vengeful God from a distant world. And, quite frankly, Jonathan was pissed.

Gone was the sadness, gone was the depression, the fear, the horror. Gone was the anxiety, the pain, the tears. Anger settled over his heart, tingeing his vision with traces of red, not from pain but from a deep rage that even seemed to drive away, if only for a few seconds, the poking, prodding, laughing voice in his mind. He would not be pushed around, he would not fear this demon any more. He no longer cared what this Discord did to him, death would be a pleasant escape from the endless pain he had experienced. He wanted his body back, he wanted his mind returned and it was about time he took a stand for himself, lest he lose his mind and his body entirely.

For a split second, Jonathan could have sworn he heard a deep, resounding, almost respectful clapping from deep inside his mind before he once again thrust the sound away from him with concentration, dousing his mind in a blanket of anger at his predicament and the unfairness he had been shown.

Jonathan turned quite sharply at the ringing sound of Celestia's hooves which resonated from somewhere directly behind him, spinning around to face the Goddess who was standing, wide eyed before the wooden desk. With a light cough and a swift glance back at the awaiting six ponies, she spoke up in a calm voice that betrayed no true emotion.

“Jonathan, are you alright?”

His mind yearned to scream no, to shriek and battle and fight for its free will but, much to Jonathan's horror and burning anger, that hand clasped around his mind once more and yet, this time it felt weaker, less powerful and shaky as if it too was battling valiantly. Just as his mouth opened to utter deceitful, corrupted, decaying words, Jonathan pushed forward, anger and determination to not be silenced lending him strength to interrupt his own voice, causing his mouth to jitter and stutter.

“Ye-N-Ye-No!-Yes!”

Celestia looked at the stuttering, confused but triumphant Jonathan rather quizzically, muffling her trickles of fear as she thought back to her students former look of terror which drowned her own petty fright as she spoke up once again in a peaceful, comforting voice.

“What happened here?”

Once more that cold claw went to grasp his mind and once more Jonathan rose up to the challenge, determined and feeling victorious with his previous, not triumph exactly, but not loss either. The stuttering swiftly returned, the sound lending Jonathan strength as his signs of rebellion began to become apparent.

“Noth-I-Not-Dropped-Nothin-The-Nothing!-Mirror!”

Celestia raised a quizzical eyebrow at this before she carefully and slowly repeated what the jittering human had said, noting the fire of victory dancing in his golden eyes.

“You...dropped the mirror?”

Jonathan opened his mouth again before he shut it with a loud click of teeth, making seven ponies shudder and cringe at the noise before he nodded brutally, head swinging back and forth, hair whipping around his head. Celestia smiled shakily and forcefully at the humans confusing antics, shooting a glance back at her little ponies to see each one of them, apart from Pinkie, was looking on with similar confusion. She turned back, cleared her throat and spoke up again in a demanding yet soothing tone, asking the question that had been dying to escape her lips.

“And...of your appearance? Is it normal for a human to suddenly sprout a beard?”

Jonathan rushed forward in his mind, eager to betray and defile the dark God that had invaded his thoughts before he felt a heavy, rattling roar tear through his mind, halting his own conscious and allowing the monster to speak in Jonathan's moment of doubt, toppling the humans resolve and will power with a simple, animalistic sound.

“Yes, it happens later on in our lives.”

Jonathan tried to speak up, to denounce what he had previously said before a great stabbing pain tore through his skull behind his eyes, blitzing his brain with flashing, strobing colours and magnificent bruising bangs that reverberated around his thoughts. He showed no visible signs of discomfort bar a slight twitch of the golden eyes and yet, instead his mind, Jonathan heard a voice screaming relentlessly and it took him merely a moment before he realized that it was him.

Celestia seemed to relax at the answer that was filled with no hints of doubt and no half hidden replies, an expansion one the humans once one word replies that had left her curious and afraid. She noted the slight tick of his golden eyes but dispelled it to the after-effects of the pain he had recently experienced. Speaking of that...

“Does each human go through that much pain when the facial hair appears?”

Jonathan tried to reply in his own voice, his own truth but that rocketing pain returned, confined to his mind, making Jonathan lose his determination and drive once more as he mentally shrieked in pain. Allowing Discord to regain control relatively quickly to answer the question for him in a calm tone that depicted no signs of the inner struggle.

“Yes, spontaneous hair growth for humans is a very painful procedure.”

Celestia nodded, her fears alleviated as she turned around to face the little purple unicorn, her student and protégée, who in turn nodded towards Celestia lightly, careful not to draw attention to herself, knowledge and acceptance shining in those tranquil, purple eyes. Celestia turned back and allowed a pitiful, caring voice to replace her ruling, calm one as she spoke up once more to the human.

“You're sure you are ok?”

She received a short, sharp nod in response from the human who had returned to gazing lifelessly at the six ponies, as if he were measuring them up. Celestia began to speak up once more in a serene, patient voice that soothed the ears and made fear and worry abandon their posts.

“Jonathan, we need to talk about your...living arrangements. I would have preferred to speak to you in the throne room to make the whole event seem more justified and reasonable but seeing the pain you have recently experienced, it seems it would be better for me to just speak up here instead...

...the talk around Canterlot at the moment revolves soulfully around the alien in the Canterlot Castle and what it is doing here. Rumours are starting to spread that both me and my sister have been brainwashed into giving “it” safe passage and an area to sleep. Ridiculous, mind you...

...however, with the sudden feelings of fear and worry sparking around Canterlot, the power struggle for political and social strength has been ranked up, many have used your arrival to start a campaign against myself and my sister, saying that we have become lazy and foolish in our age...

...not many ponies pay it heed though but the damage is still waiting to be done and I cannot have a power surge going through Canterlot now, not after the recent attack by the spirit of chaos himself. It would devastate the economy and the political government. Therefore, with a heavy heart I have no choice but to send you away from Canterlot...

...it is not entirely bad new however for my faithful student, Twilight Sparkle, has agreed to welcome you into her humble abode in the quaint town of Ponyville, not far from Canterlot. There you would experience the ways of pony life without having to be stuck in a castle for your days...

...many would dare to pick a fight against me to gain power but no pony would dishonour an Element of Harmony, the respect that they wield could level mountains. I ask of you Jonathan, will you agree to go to Ponyville with my protégée, to learn of our culture, how we live and what we do?”

The question waited heavily upon the air, Jonathan the human having remained silent and detached all throughout the carefully crafted speech, pondering the words with slightly creased eyes and a partially furrowed brow. Celestia leaned forward slightly as five hushed whispers behind her signalled that Twilight's friends had begun to question her about the ordeal but Celestia paid them no heed. What the human said right here, right now would shift her opinion of him into either a good light or a poor one.

Jonathan heard the speech and the question from far, far off in his mind, his rebellion, his refusal to be silent landing him imprisoned within his own mind, able to peer through his eyes yet unable to speak or to move. That pain, that torturous, hated pain had torn through his anger and his rage as if it were paper, shattering the rebellion swiftly but viciously and yet Jonathan still clung to hope. He had battled with the demon and, for a short period of time, they had wrestled fitfully for control.

His mouth opened startlingly fast, spooking Jonathan and making Celestia lean ever closer, ignoring the now louder talking of the six mares behind her as she waited, eagerly and fearfully for his answer.

“It would be a privilege to be in the company of Twilight Sparkle.”

The humans voice was a purr now, mirth tingling its depths and tone brimming with a seductive glee, causing Celestia to smile broadly at his answer, causing the mares to fall silent and causing Jonathan to begin to ponder, within the confines of his mind, what exactly this chaotic spirit was up to.

Celestia spoke up in a relieved voice, brimming with excitement and happiness as she turned to address the six silent mares behind her, rather loudly as the joy found its way into her throat and mind.

“Twilight Sparkle and the five other Elements of Harmony shall escort you to the balcony outside my royal chambers where a pegasi chariot awaits to take you to Ponyville.”

Jonathan nodded blankly as Celestia shot a look at the six ponies to get moving, each one stumbling over each other as they barrelled their way to the door, eager to return to Ponyville and talk to their new guest. Jonathan followed blindly behind, mind blank and yet racing, body frozen and yet moving.

No pony or human noticed the subtle wink that Celestia threw at Twilight, knowledge glinting brightly in magenta and purple eyes.

[.]

Earlier

Twilight Sparkle turned the corner of the chilly corridor, Celestia following closely behind her as the pair heard the chatter of the five other ponies falling quieter and quieter until it became silent, the pair stopping to face each other, Twilight with a confused look and Celestia with a partial smile and a twinkle in her eyes. Twilight knew that twinkle, it was the twinkle of a plan or a scheme worthy of a princess.

Twilight spoke, shakily but with great rolling waves of curiosity, eyes wide with questions and barely restrained interest.

“You wanted to speak to me in private Princess?”

Celestia smiled warmly down at her student, eyes twinkling with a motherly glow.

“Just Celestia to you Twilight. And yes, I do need to speak to you...”

There was an uncomfortable silence that permeated the corridor like a dank smog, swirling and wrapping around Twilight, making her fidget as he mentor remained annoyingly silent, staring into space with a look of concentration that quickly snapped as Twilight spoke up in a pestering tone.

“Speak to me about what?”

Celestia smiled again but this time it was a much more weary smile, tiredness leaking into her ancient features.

“Speak to you about our 'guest'”

Twilight struggled to remain silent as Celestia lapsed, once more, into a daydream-esque appearance before the solar ruler shook her head, glanced down at Twilight and continued to speak.

“He can no longer stay in Canterlot, his appearance has brought a few...problems forth for both myself, my sister and the parliament of ponies...

...if he was to stay here, in Canterlot, then I fear a revolt, a rebellion, a cull would take place and many ponies would clasp onto the idea that he has brainwashed me and Luna and that we are no longer suitable to rule Equestria...

...it is for that reason that I must ask of you a very important question Twilight. Would you, and I do not wish to force you into anything, house the alien known as Jonathan in your house until I can figure out a better plan for his housing?”

Twilight blinked once, then twice and finally a third time before she opened her mouth to speak up in a confused and partially annoyed voice.

“Um, Princess, not that I'm angry or anything but why give me the creature? Why not send it with a platoon of guards to live in Manehatten or Appleoosa?”

Celestia snickered at the somewhat strained expression on her students face before she spoke up again with a voice that commanded respect and bristled with power, the voice of a ruler who would not be denied.

“What I say here does not leave your mouth Twilight. Understand?”

Twilight was rather taken back by the forceful voice of her caring, comforting ruler but she nodded jerkily, eyes wary but still sparkling with curiosity and interest. Celestia spoke up with her same tones, comforting and caring.

“The first reason my dear is because around you and your five friends, most ponies will accept Jonathan. I don't think you realize that you command respect all throughout Equestria with your deeds.”

Twilight blushed red, a hot flush spreading across her cheeks as Celestia continued.

“The second is because I wish for you and the others to teach our friend the meaning of compassion and the magic of friendship. Oh, and if you could slip a few lessons about Equestrian history and our culture I'm sure both he and I would be very grateful.”

Twilight was being pulled into the idea slowly, the compliments and the sparking of possible praise igniting her inner teachers pet.

“Now Twilight, now I talk about what must never, ever be repeated. Not to your friends, not to Luna, not to Jonathan.”

Twilight nodded shakily as Celestia carried on.

“I...I do not fully trust our guest. He has been most concealing about himself and his arrival and the pains he experiences, they are not mere growth spurts or aching joints. There is something about him that makes me shiver, those eyes Twilight, I'm sure you recognized them? Alas, my main reason was because I wished for you to report back to me daily what he has been up too, what he has done, how he has acted and any information you have gathered from him.”

Twilight nodded at each comment, Celestia voicing her own fears perfectly and yet she couldn't quite contain the tremor of excitement that coursed through her when Celestia suggested she studied the human. To study an alien, every bookworm, scientists and general nerds dream.

“Finally, and I say this with a heavy heart and a sluggish mind, if the worst comes to bear, if he is dangerous, violent or a threat then he is in the company of the only six mares that could permanently put him down for good. It is for the sake of Equestria that I put him in the protection and the care of the Elements of Harmony...

...So, I ask of you Twilight, will you accept him into your home?”

Twilight frowned in contemplation at the rather sudden request. She had arrived today to find out what bothered her ruler and to investigate the new sentient being. She had not arrived to be stuck with a hairless ape who, as asked by Celestia herself, may end up living in her home. Still, she could not help but see the truth and the wisdom behind the solar rulers words. The Sun Goddess had clearly thought this through and through and who was she to deny the plans of an immortal ruler?

“I'll do it.”

Celestia smiled with content and relief at those words, letting out a pent up sigh of barely concealed worry at a hint of refusal. Perhaps she could no longer allow this fear of the alien to rule her life and sink into her mind but that didn't mean she couldn't keep a watchful eye on him.

“Thank you Twilight. Now I believe it is time to retur-”

The sound of Celestia's voice was smashed to silence by the tinkling shatter of glass hitting tiles, twin heads spinning around to stare back down the corridor where the noise had erupted from before they broke out into a fast paced sprint, hooves tingling against the marble floor.

Celestia couldn't help but smile as she bolted down the corridor. Her plan was coming together and, soon enough, she would know where Jonathan's loyalties lied.

A/N: I managed to get a chapter in before I go to Berlin! Hoo-rah!

Anyway, I tried to revert Celestia back into looking like a ruler and princess rather then a nervous, scared filly.

I also added hints of a rebellion that was squashed but still leading to hope so that will build up towards something in the near future.

I think I kept a good pace, not boring and not fast either. I hope you all agree with me on that one.

Ah yes, since I am going to Berlin for a week I better leave you with a small spoiler towards the next chapter, shouldn't I?

The next chapter will be named “Falling Alongside Generosity” and, as you may gather, it will feature more Rarity, more Discord trying to gain higher control, more rebellion and then a truth behind how Jonathan can make a stand against his tormentor.

Anyway, enjoy and tell me what you think. Oh, and there are probably a few mistakes but I'm too tired to check everything at the moment so I'll do a double take tomorrow.

Falling With Generosity

They swept past servants garbed in brown suits, each holding a random assortment of dusters, cleaners, soaps and towels, the occasional colt or mare grasping fresh rolls of toilet paper. They swept past great tapestries, wonderful paintings, precious heirlooms, fantastic works of art and the odd golden shrouded guard, stock still and staring straight forward. They swept past great, glittering, gorgeous stained glass windows, depicting battles of old, victories, great moments, historic times and, most usually, prosperous works of ponykind. They swept past locked doors, open doors, closed doors, wooden, iron, barred and golden doors, glittering with magnificence.

The six brightly coloured pastel ponies, followed hastily by Jonathan walked briskly through the white marble Canterlot Castle, complete silence following them, each brightly coloured coated pony casting suspicious looks at Jonathan and curious looks at each other, mostly at Twilight Sparkle, who shrugged off the prodding, intruding looks easily. Wherever the group walked, wherever they were heading an uncomfortable, creeping silence would follow them, the once bustling castle falling completely still and quiet around the group of six and their rather unusual passenger.

Jonathan ignored the looks, the faint mutterings, the suspicious, intoxicating talk that flowed silently but swiftly around the castle through only eye movements and light twitches of ears, hasty glances and crude body signs. He ignored the art, the culture, the beauty, the ponies, the heirlooms, the guards and every other little aspect of the castle apart from the leading group of six, his body working on auto-pilot, trudging along as his mind wandered from his body.

He had fought, he had taken command, he had taken control and, even if it were only for a short amount of time, he was happy, jubilant, even triumphant. He had, without meaning, gone against the demon, the monster and though it had hurt him, though it had twisted and burnt his mind till he longed to scream and sob he couldn't help but repress a beaming sense of accomplishment and pride.

He could fight back and, right now, that was all that mattered.

The doubts though, the fear that nagged him even now could not be suppressed forever and mere moments later the first trickling thoughts of worry seeped into him just as the six creatures in front of him turned a sharp corner, glancing back at him to see if he was still following them, making sure he had not run away or fled.

That beast, Discord it called itself, had gained control over him again and inflicted such pain, such agony and yet he had physically remained standing, he had remained physically impassive and the Princess and her ponies had remained oblivious to the inner struggle he had experienced, the wash and pull of pain. If this monster, if this dark God who sought revenge could hurt him so grievously and yet allow no word edgewise, allow no help and no indication for any other creature of the pain he was experiencing then what would become of him were the pain to return.

And then, with a creeping, groping sense of dread Jonathan began to play over the recent turn of events, how he had been forced from the castle and would now be living with the little purple unicorn, Twilight Sprinkle or something along those lines. That would have been no cause to worry, no reason to fret or fear but it had been the deep feeling of accomplishment and, not happiness or joy exactly, but triumph that had gushed through his body when he had been moved, when he had agreed. The triumph, the accomplishment, the perverse sense of achievement was most certainly not his own and for that reason alone, Jonathan began to fear once more. What foul game was the mismatched monster playing, what foul plan was it hatching if such triumph could come from a simple movement.

It ached into Jonathan's brain, the simplicity that he knew it must be that was annoyingly too far out of reach to see, like staring at a Chess board, understanding the rules and regulations but unknowing of the other players plans, only able to observe and make estimations, guesses that could cause your pieces to topple or could raise you up. The ability to see and yet not to see, knowing that right now, in his own head, a plan was frothing and boiling over, a scheme of such desolate evil and impeccable coldness that threatened the very existence of the creatures that he found himself around.

Jonathan glanced up from his crestfallen-esque view of the marbled, white floor to stare blankly into the teal blue eyes of the butter yellow pegasus, Flutterbuff or something similar, who in turn, upon meeting Jonathan's golden eyes, eeped and twisted her head back around, a bright blush growing on her face.

Jonathan sagged and sighed as the little pegasus turned back around, obviously frightened of him, creating two conflicting emotions within him, his own being sorrow over her fear and the other being the dark, tyrannical feeling of pleasure that burst from a dark recess of his own mind, the dark area that Discord had occupied.

It had been days now since he had arrived, how many days he did not truly know. Time had blurred swiftly, ticking by slowly at first and then rushing forward like an eager sibling to embrace Jonathan, tossing him a new form and then hurling him into a new home. Part of him knew that he should have been shocked, he should still be shocked about talking equines and yet the other part of him merely informed him, with a cold, calculated precision, that right now, that was the least of his worries. The world had gone to pot, his life had been taken and replaced by another, he was in a land of talking ponies but none of that truly mattered compared to that seductive but deadly voice in his mind.

Just as Jonathan began to ponder the idea of merely ending his life, finishing the job before that crazed monster could, just as he tried desperately to convince himself that the early display of rebellion was nothing but a fluke he was stopped quite suddenly in his tracks by a pink pony, nearly toppling over her as the group of six came to a sudden stop, making Jonathan tumble forward.

Righting himself quickly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, Jonathan turned to gaze at the bright red wooden doors that stood like a monumental behemoth before him and the six ponies, twin guards of gold standing beside them with stoic, hardened expressions. With a small nod from the leading purple unicorn pony, both guards moved to the sides and pushed the doorway open with a great creak and a small noise of exertion before the six ponies and Jonathan stepped outside into the bright sunlight, the human squinting under the fiery glare before his eyes adjusted to the new found light as he let out a little gasp.

Beauty. That was the only true word for the view. The seven of them stood on a brown floored, somewhat cracked balcony with long, slender purple railings dancing around its edge to stop the, nearly inevitable, falling of an accident prone creature. Great bushes and shrubs of luminous green leaves hung steadily around the heavily natured balcony, clinging to the floor and the sides of the walls, whips of ivy trailing up the marble, white walls of the castle itself. Lovely, magnificent red, orange and yellow flowers rustled and danced in the faint wind that blew through the balcony, causing the foliage to jig and swing in an almost merry fashion.

The view though, oh the view. Jonathan had been cooped up in the rather stuffy, rather humid and rather oddly smelling infirmary for far, far too long and the wonderful sight before him, such nature and purity, so many beautiful creations nearly caused tears to flow from his eyes.

Before him stretched a deep, bristling, swaying green forest that stretched onwards and onwards, peeking over the horizon and cresting on the very peak of his vision. Brown hunks of dark, rich tree bark dazzled through the green leaves, lavishing his vision with oaky views and the sweet sight of nature. Dimly, Jonathan could see sprouting, chaotic plants sitting limply upon the floor, small patches of bare leaves upon trees allowing Jonathan to peer through.

Beside the forest, a way off in the distance, stood a massive, monstrous, gigantic mountain that punctured the sky, rocks pinnacling upwards to poke the face of the Heavens themselves. White snow tipped the very top of the mountain, trailing downwards in great clumps of icy purity. Visible cracks could be seen from his heightened position on the castle, great tears and gouges in the once perfect rock face. A single, solitary cave of spiralling blackness could also be seen.

The sweet smell of forests, of pine and orange, of oak and apple mixed into the air, swirling around Jonathan, making him draw in a deep, hearty breath. Past the forest, a small village with smoke rising from numerous, tiny looking houses could be seen, his probable destination. Warm, rich, tingling sunlight bathed the whole view in a healthy, fiery, orange glow that radiated happiness and joy, compassion and warmth, so much so that Jonathan tossed his troubles, his issues aside to simply admire the spectacle before him. True beauty should never be diminished, should never be viewed by an eye that saw only the negative.

Jonathan was roused from his awed, numinous gaze by a polite cough that simpered from in front of him, his eyes trailing down to meet the purple ones of a rather confused looking unicorn, a small blush tracing his own cheeks yet again as he was caught staring quite star-struck at the wondrous scene before him. She motioned Jonathan to follow with a flick of her tail before she turned around and began to trot back to her friends and towards three very peculiar looking objects.

Giant, golden snitches.

That was the first thought that entered Jonathan's mind as he blankly walked up to the shining golden surface of the pegasi pulled chariots, noting the grooves, the edges, the smooth metal and the twin wing like objects that jutted from the sides. Two loops of golden metal wiring sprang from the front like reigns for a pony to equip and a large, purple jewel rested snugly on the front of the chariot. Jonathan gazed around at the three golden smothered, oddly crafted flight vehicles before he let out a loud yelp and stumbled backwards as six winged guard pegasi alighted upon the balcony, each one casting him suspicious gazes before shrugging him off.

The lead pony, a rugged, grey coated stallion turned to Twilight and, in a rather deep voice, began to speak.

“Three chariots have been laid out for your departure Miss Sparkle, two for two of you each and one for three of you to make up for the rather...peculiar guest you have.”

Twilight must have know this particular stallion for she greeted him by his name.

“Thank you Coldwings. Now, if you'll excuse me I have something rather...important to discuss with the girls.”

With that, Twilight turned back to the group of five, who huddled together in a tight circle, throwing the occasional glance at Jonathan before they sunk back into conversation, Coldwings flying off to help his team and himself get attached to the chariots, leaving Jonathan alone to ponder how those rather large, rather heavy, deadly orbs of metal were supposed to stay aloft.

[.]

“So, which one of us wants to go with the weird looking, rather squishy alien?”

Twilight's question was met by a barrage of questions, each one rather silent though lest the alien overhear them, each of the six ponies casting timid glances at the lonely looking Jonathan. It was, in fact, Rainbow Dash who spoke up loudest in protest against what Twilight had suggested, her cracking voice laying into the circle but not escaping its confines.

“Why does one of us need to go with him, why not have two of us and one of him in the three pony chariots?”

This was met by a chorus of agreements from the other mares before they were all silenced by Twilight's slightly raised but still rather quiet voice.

“One, I'm not sure a chariot will hold two of us and one of...him. Two, I would rather he not feel threatened this quickly on, surrounded by creatures he's never seen before and three, if there was one of us, we might be able to get some information out of him early on.”

This brought silence to the group, each mare looking down awkwardly and shuffling their hooves on the ground, not willing to dispute Twilight's claims for they were right but not willing to agree to them either. It was, once again, Rainbow Dash who spoke up in her cracked voice, tones high with nervousness but also a pitched annoyance.

“And why can't you go with him then Twilight, huh?”

This caused Twilight's ears to flop downwards, her cheeks to blush brightly and her eyes to adopt a look that was somewhere between aggravation at the question and guilt at the answer.

“Well Rainbow, if you hadn't gathered I can be a bit too...quizzical when it comes to learning new things. I mean, remember the incident where I tried to work out the Pinkie Sense? I don't want to scare him away...”

Rainbow Dash looked down in embarrassment and guilt at Twilight's words, feeling bad that she had accidentally, of course, forced one of her closest friends to admit a deep flaw to an entire group. Twilight recovered quickly however and turned her gaze to the rest of the group, eyes first resting on Fluttershy.

“Fluttershy, you're the kindest, sweetest and one of the nicest ponies I have ever met. With your caring, compassion and just general love for every creature, apart from dragons, I would have thought you'd have jumped at a chance like this. Sure he looks a little bit spooky but he doesn't seem violent or mean does he? You wouldn't have anything to fear and you'd be doing me a massive favour.”

Fluttershy squeaked under the gaze of five mares, shivering somewhat before she replied in a shaky voice.

“I-I'm sorry T-Twilight but I j-j-just can't.”

Twilight sighed before turning to Applejack.

“Applejack, your are the most honest, dependable, hard-working pony I have ever had the joy of being friends with. With your inability to be dishonest, your strong will but, most of all, your care for everypony else you would be a great match to try and get information out of him. Won't you do it for me?”

“Ah'm sorry Twiligt but Ah just can't. There's somethin' about him that rubs me up tha wrong way, like he's tellin' tha truth but lying at tha same time. I don't wanna get angry at him just for havin' this odd feelin'”

Twilight let out a huff of irritation before her eyes rested on Rainbow Dash.

“Rainbow, you're the most loyal, most faithful and most firm mare I know. With your Element of Loyalty along with your somewhat brash but also compassionate attitude towards others, your would be a welcome sight for him, somepony he can talk to about his issues and somepony who is more down to earth, so to speak. Somepony who isn't trying to impress him or isn't scared of him. Would you, please, just get into the chariot with him?”

Rainbow shifted on her hooves, eyes downcast before she spoke up in a relatively soft voice for such an abrasive mare.

“Sorry Twilight, I just can't. I'll get all nervous and then I'd probably end up getting frustrated and yelling and then, well, I don't think it would work out for the best.”

Somewhere along the line, Twilight heard Applejack mutter 'and y'all are scared' but she let it drop as Rainbow Dash sank into herself, turning her purple gaze to Pinkie Pie before she silently mouthed the word 'no' to herself, eliciting a somewhat disheartened glance from the pink earth pony who had been ignored. Twilight turned to face the last mare of their little, rag-tag group, opening her mouth to speak to Rarity before she was stopped by the white mare herself.

“Fine, I'll do it then. I'm sure my charm will be able to get something out of him.”

Twilight let out a pent up breath of relief, a beaming, toothy smile breaking across her features as she turned to smile widely at Rarity, who shivered under the massive grin that stretched across Twilight's face almost menacingly.

“Oh thank you Rarity, you've got no idea how worried I was getting. Anyway, we should probably get back to him before he starts to fret.”

With that, the six of them turned and began to trot towards their carriages, Twilight joining Pinkie and Fluttershy whilst Applejack joined Rainbow in the next chariot along, Rarity trotting forward to meet the confused looking Jonathan, swallowing a lump of fear as she went.

[.]

Jonathan watched the small, alabaster white mare approach him rather cautiously, trotting up to his side and gulping rather visibly and audibly as she looked up into his golden eyes with blue ones, speaking up in a strained voice that somehow managed to still sound refined and upper-class.

“Hello dear, it looks like you're with me for this particular trip.”

Jonathan wanted to sigh in disappointment and unhappiness at the obvious fear of him her voice showed, depressed that he had such an effect on the group as he replied in a rather melancholy voice.

“Got stuck with me, huh?”

This caused Rarity to giggle, mostly from the sudden crack of the tension that had been building up in her and partly because she had not expected this...creature to act or even speak in any remotely familiar way to her after seeing his rather odd displays earlier. Jonathan lifted his head at the sounds of giggling, his attempts at sadness coming out as humorous to the pony before him, nearly making him crack a small smile in mirth.

“Oh, I wouldn't say got stuck darling, more to the likes of I would like to get to know you a bit better since you will be living with one of my closest friends. We can talk on the chariot though, the guards are beginning to look a bit annoyed with us.”

Jonathan was partially astounded at the ease of which the white mare had opened up to him, as if completely disregarding his unusual body and odd, distorted mind that she had glimpsed in the infirmary when he had done battle with Discord. Jonathan stole a glance at the two guards who had successfully harnessed themselves to the chariot and, he had to admit, they did look a might bit aggravated by the slow movements of their passengers, training stopping them calling out at them to hurry up but irritated eyes speaking the story that words couldn't.

With a small, sharp nod and a pale, shaky smile Jonathan moved over to the back of the chariot, peering inside curiously before he cautiously raised one foot and stepped in, making the whole structure shudder and rock and the twin guard ponies mumble incoherent slander about the weight of their passenger. Rarity hopped in gracefully after Jonathan taking a seat on one small, golden bench that rested on the right side of the chariot, signalling with a slight nod of her horned head for Jonathan to sit on the other side, which he did.

Immediately, the pegasi took off with a mighty flap of wings and a whoosh of air, bursting into the sky, closely followed by the two other chariots that closely chased the human harbouring aircraft. Jonathan had to try very hard not to throw up then and there as the great bustling of the chariot nearly sent him spinning into a deep nausea. Combined with the fact that there were no real safety railings and that his life was in the hooves of two angry looking guards did not help to settle his nerves or his churning stomach.

Jonathan glanced over the edge for a second before his head bolted back, face pale and slightly green, eyes wide with fear and sweat trickling down his back just as Rarity spoke up to him in a jubilant, care-free tone.

“So, what brings you to Equestria darling?”

Jonathan feebly put up protest against the consuming hand in his mind but he was swiftly tossed aside, weariness and a distinct lack of anger making his resistance frail and weak as Discord spoke up using Jonathan's voice once again.

“I honestly have no idea, I just woke up here.”

Rarity seemed to deflate somewhat at the lack of knowledge before she jumped straight back into another question.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

Jonathan let out a little smile as he spoke up with a wistful voice.

“I was a maths teacher, looking after all these little kids. They were only about seven, adorable little scamps.”

Rarity smiled quite warmly at that knowledge, her ideas of the alien being bloodthirsty and evil washing away as she heard him speak about children in such a kind, caring manner before she dove straight into her ready made speech, prepared years ago when she had first set up her business.

“I own the local fashion shop, you see. A wonderful place with so many numerous fashionable clothing it practically explodes with vibrancy and individuality and all for a very low price. In the fashion business, you see, there is...”

Jonathan smiled blankly as Rarity continued her long winded speech, muffling her voice out as he sank back into his own thoughts the chariot rocking and shaking slightly as the pegasi veered and turned to get quickly to their destination.

Here he was, a once regular, now monster enveloped human talking to a lively white mare with a horn on her head, flying out via pegasi transportation to a town that he had glimpsed from a castle built by ponies. It sounded absurd, in fact it was completely absurd but it was a damn sight better then what was going on inside his mind, how his own body was betraying itself.

Rarity continued to talk as Jonathan cast his glance out over the rows of trees and onto the nearby mountain, heart heavy and mind throbbing. Paradise would have been the ideal word for a world like this, with such magnificent nature, such marvellous species and such astounding compassion but, right now, paradise sounded like hell. He had a parasite in him, a monster wearing his skin and for himself to be in paradise, to bring such an abomination with him would be liking spitting in the Queen's face and calling her a grumpy old tart. It was wrong to the bone, through into the marrow. It was horrendous and evil and it shouldn't live, not in a place as fantastic as this.

Jonathan keyed himself way from his dark thoughts just as Rarity began to end her speech.

“...and that, my dear, is why Carousel Boutique is the greatest fashion shop in the whole of Equestria and also the most affordable. Now, don't worry, I'll whip up some snazzy suits for your when we get to Ponyville. Oh, it'll be a challenge but I'm sure that with som-”

The immaculate, almost priggish sound of Rarity's voice was silenced by an almighty shudder of the chariot, tipping Rarity over onto Jonathan's side of the bench, her head nearly falling into his lap as she struggled to right herself. The shudder lasted another second before it died down, the pegasi flying the chariot glancing at each other silently before one of them turned his head to yell at Jonathan and his uncomfortably close partner with a deep voice.

“Just some minor turbulence from the wind, sorry about that.”

Jonathan couldn't help but hear the small traces of worry in that otherwise blank voice, picking up on the hints of nervousness as Rarity pulled herself back up and dusted herself off with a hoof, expression dark and angry.

“Turbulence my cutie-mark, I expect they were just having a little fun the stuck-up bast-”

Rarity was once more interrupted by an equally powerful shudder of the chariot as it was knocked partially sideways under the intense barrage, the twin pegasi heaving and panting to get the golden structure back on course, the quake sending Jonathan nearly hurtling into Rarity before he caught himself, one hand reaching back to clasp onto his side of the chariot before he squashed her flat. Somewhere he heard a deep, dark, bloody laughter but that too was silenced as the pegasi in front of him once more called back.

“We, eh, are experiencing some minor turbulence. Please keep hold of something.”

The fear in that voice was palpable now, so strong that even Rarity could hear it, casting a frightened glance at the pegasi and then a shaky smile at Jonathan who in turn frowned darkly as a second ring of laughter exploded throughout his mind. Rarity spoke up in a strained, anxious voice that seemed to be for her own good rather then Jonathan's.

“Oh, a little bit of turbulence never hurt anypony. I'm sure the pegasi have it all under contr-”

A third, devastating blast of wind smashed into the side of the chariot, sending the whole thing spinning through the air for a few seconds, followed by Rarity's screams of terror as the pegasi, with great heaves of strength brought the golden cart back under control through sheer force of will and power alone. This time though, the hit was followed by a hissing voice that whispered throughout Jonathan's head.

Hey there Jonny, did ya miss me?

Jonathan frowned deeply at the sound of that eerily familiar voice, at the malice and the hatred barely kept at bay, swallowed by perverse pleasure and sadistic joy.

Aw c'mon now, I certainly missed you. I'm not that bad a guy you know.

The voice was swiftly followed by another powerful shudder that rocked the whole chariot, the pegasi now glancing fearfully at each other openly, Rarity taking deep, panting breaths as she tried desperately to keep herself calm.

In fact, I'm such a nice guy I'm going to give you a choice. You see, there's this little thing in your head that I no longer want around. It's called your freedom. Let me show you what it looks like.

Jonathan blinked rapidly as a vision of a cracked, opaque wall came into his view, dancing around his eyes and jigging along the sky like a crazed dancer. The hallucination quickly vanished though as another powerful shudder tore through the chariot, Rarity letting out a little scream.

You should be able to feel that barrier Jonathan, you should be able to feel its strength and its purpose.

And now that that monster said it, now that Discord had brought it to light Jonathan could feel it, he could feel his freedom, his strength of will, his power and his defensive wall like it was solid, like it was truly there. He could sense it, like the fates had intervened and given him such an ability. He could see the cracks that danced along its edge.

Another tremendous shake pounded the chariot, Rarity now speaking in a fast gibberish language, fear plaguing her eyes.

All I ask you to do Jonathan is destroy that wall, destroy it and I will stop. Destroy it and you will go free. Destroy it and she lives. You can destroy it, now that I have given you the ability to see it, to feel it. You can get rid of it, end this little horror show now before that little mare snaps.

Jonathan's eyes fogged over at the thought as another ripple hit the chariot, not affecting him but making Rarity shriek once more and causing the two pegasi to yell out in fear.

Destroy it Jonathan, end it now before somepony gets hurt.

Jonathan blankly reached out his hand, tracing the area where the wall would be, where he could physically feel it even if there was nothing in sight. All he had to do was rip it, to tear it in two.

Destroy it Jonathan and you can have everything and anything you want.

Jonathan smiled dumbly, eyes glazing over once more as his fingers caressed the invisible wall, as his fingers caressed his own mind, his own freedom.

Destroy it Jonathan and together we can rule this world.

Rule the world.

“Rule the world.”

Jonathan spoke in a daze, hands reaching out to tear, to destroy, to annihilate the wall. He could have everything he wanted, he could protect that little pony, he could rule this land, be free of that monster. And then Jonathan's hands stopped, just as he went to destroy the wall.

No. He could never be free of that monster. Never. What was he thinking, what was he doing?

Destroy it.

“I won't.”

Destroy it.

“I can't.”

Destroy it!

“No!”

Jonathan's once quiet, whispered voice punctured the air with such heightened volume that it silenced Rarity's gibberish nonsense and crazed screams, so loud that it silenced the scared yelling of the pegasi as all three turned their heads to gaze at Jonathan who had his eyes closed tightly, his hands pressed against his head like a vice as that cold, serpentine voice spoke up once more.

No? You dare defy me? That, Jonathan, was the wrong answer.

And then, with a metallic screech, the bonds holding the pegasi to the chariot snapped apart, the golden body of metal plummeting quite suddenly towards the ground.

Rarity screamed, louder and louder, Jonathan merely hanging onto the metal frame with wide eyes and a sickly pale skin, feeling the wind rushing past him, wanting to scream but throat closed up in intense terror. He was going to die, he was going to die and that was all that mattered., He would die, he would never see his family again, his friends, he would never get married, have kids.

He would never turn into the monster, he would never overthrow Equestria, he would never have to hear that evil, malicious voice again.

And quite suddenly, everything felt alright.

Jonathan had finally gotten what he wanted, a way out of this monstrous, corrupted life that he had been forced into. He had finally found an exit, an escape even if it was a rather overzealous one. He could be free, he could be happy in his final moments knowing that any second now, any second he would never have to hear that voice again. The wind whistling in his hair didn't feel so foreboding now, in fact it felt rather relaxing, like a strong sea breeze at the seaside. The sound of screaming brought Jonathan back into the land of the living, vanquishing his happy daydream, his final moments of bliss.

Rarity was still shrieking, tears bursting from her eyes to spiral upwards into the air in great blobs, the wind whipping her once meticulously groomed hair around her head like a fan. Her skin was paler then pale, a bleached bone colour that reflected her terror, her eyes sparkling with tears and horror, her mouth set in an open scream from which the dark void of her mouth seemed to stretch on and on.

This wasn't her time to go, this wasn't her place to die, this was his alone, his end. This was what he had wanted and, foolishly, he had abandoned reality to live out his dreams of no longer having to fear, no longer having to care. He had ditched the white unicorn when things had gone to hell, he had succumbed to his own emotions and left her to scream and holler and fear for her own life, feel terror pump through her at the sight of her own death. And then, that cruel voice spoke up again.

This isn't where she is supposed to die Jonathan but you forced my hand. Are you proud of your display now? She will die here today, how will you live with yourself?

That voice had tried to spark guilt and depression, sadness and fear and yet Jonathan felt angry. He had asked for this perhaps, he had rebelled, he had fought and battled for his freedom but she, this little mare named Rarity had done nothing, nothing. And then something the beast had said hit Jonathan hard. How will you live with yourself? Surely after such a fall, death was certain, not merely a possibility not unless something else had a plan, not unless there was a greater force at play here.

With anger in his heart and determination upon his face, his mind already spinning and churning with the rapid descent, Jonathan managed to speak a few words, fighting the vomit rising in his throat.

“Go to Hell.”

And with that Jonathan stood up rather shakily and walked over to Rarity, hands gripping the golden edge all the way around until he reached her.

She doesn't deserve to die here, there has to be something that can be done, there has to be something. Jonathan peered over the edge of the chariot, noting with alarm how close the ground truly was now. He had seconds, possibly half a minute before they would collide and in those precious seconds, in that short time he hatched a small, stupid, idiotic plan, a plan that defied common sense and a plan that would surely fail.

Without a word, Jonathan grabbed Rarity and lifted her up to his chest, clasping his arms around her as she screamed even louder, tears soaking into his clothing. She was light and soft, fuzzy and warm but that didn't matter any more, in fact, if things went poorly, in a few seconds nothing would matter for either of them ever again.

Rarity wailed into his arms as Jonathan carefully, amidst the rocking, shaking chariot, walked slowly to the exit of the chariot, feeling the wind rush past him and seeing the ground draw closer and closer, perhaps twenty seconds away, perhaps ten. Then, with lightning fast speed, Jonathan twirled himself around so that Rarity was facing into the chariot itself and launched himself backwards, off the edge of the chariot and into the sky.

Five seconds. That's how long he fell, through blistering winds that tore tears from his eyes, back facing the ground and Rarity clasped firmly to his chest, hopefully protected from the fall. Jonathan felt calm, serene and peaceful. Whatever happened now, if he died or if, by some miracle, he lived then at least he would know that today he tried his best to save a life, that today he may have nearly lost himself and his newly found friends but today was also the day that he had managed to loosen his shackles somewhat and that felt good.

His back hit the mushy, grassy floor with a loud thud, followed by the intense pressure of Rarity collapsing into his chest, his arms loosening at the powerful collision, causing the snowy white mare to bounce out of his hands to land with a sickening crunch further away, out of his already dimming vision. There was no pain, no agony just the empty, lonely feeling of complete nothingness as darkness tinged his sight, greying out colours and blurring reality as Jonathan's eyes began to flutter closed, a breath escaping his lips as the darkness smothered him.

The last thing he heard was a high pitched shriek that punctured the air.

“Rarity!”

A/N: Took me long enough, eh?

Here it is, the newest chapter with some action in it for once, instead of boring old talking. Hopefully everyone understands that title now. I know I said I'd explain how Jonathan will manage to resist in the future for this chapter but the word count was high enough and plus, this has a nice cliffhanger

I had to choose Rarity for the scene because recently I have began to love her character and therefore I wanted her to play a bigger part in this story.

Anyway, that's about it. Enjoy the cliffhanger and tell me what you think of this chapter.

Triumphant Revelation

The feeling of a sudden, inexplicable, unexplainable terror brought Jonathan tumbling out of his fevered but unremarkable sleep, causing the belittled human to bolt awake as if someone had set off a firecracker next to his ear. His eyesight was fuzzy and blurred, caking goo settling on top of golden orbs of sight to distort his vision past any reasonable sense of reality, making Jonathan scrub furiously at his eyes, attempting to rid himself of the almost blinding sensation. With a low, quiet but audible sigh of both pain and confusion, Jonathan opened his eyes fully and wholeheartedly for the first time since waking up, moving to sit up in what he expected was a bed of some kind, eager but also nervous to discover where his body was currently held. What he saw though when he opened his golden eyes, what he glimpsed through shimmering orbs made him wish he had never, ever regained his ability to see.

He was in no hospital, no infirmary, no place of medicine or help, comfort or care. He was in no household, no mansion, no reasonable, sane or even real abode. Jonathan even doubted that where he was right now was in any way in the realms of sanity and reality.

All around were not walls, not windows or doors. There was merely an expanse of a seething, bloody red colour that mingled viciously and seductively with tinges of wafting blackness that settled and swirled around Jonathan's vision. There was no substance to the strange, multicoloured mist, it just hung heavily in the air, clouding all view of anything else, hiding anything remotely far away from him. The strange fog shaped itself like a dome of sorts, circular and reaching high, high up above Jonathan, peaking at his zenith until it folded back down to all sides, smothering reality.

The ground itself was of a deep, rich red colour that seemed to illuminate itself, casting deep red reflections up onto Jonathan's skin until he himself looked as if he were drenched in blood. With a shaky but almost calm, calculated movement, Jonathan arched his neck downwards to inspect what he had originally thought to be a bed. Instead, his body lay on an almost fluffy, swirling and luminous pink cloud of sticky, curling cotton candy, sugar dripping off of the strange, overly sized confectionery, soaking into Jonathan's clothes and making the adhesive induced clothing grapple onto his body.

Jonathan blinked rapidly, scrubbing at his eyes, opening them again only to be met with the same horrifying sight before he once more began to scrub and rub at his new eyes ferociously until small tears of pain sprung into their depths. Still though the nightmarish image refused to flee or leave, instead opting to stay silently and unforgiving in Jonathan's vision, almost seeming to draw closer to him, to taunt him with its impossibility, with its confusing depths and horrifying image.

His emotions though were dulled and restrained, fear and horror, confusion and terror held back like a pack of dogs, allowing Jonathan to see this strange, almost whimsical place with a fresh pair of eyes, without the tampering of his feelings. With shaky legs, either from his recent fall or from suppressed fear, Jonathan slid off of his cloud of candy and hopped daintily to the floor, the mass of red underneath his feet suddenly springing up a medley of colours as soon as his skin impacted with the ground, green, gold, orange, blue and purple splashing around his soles like paint.

With hesitant steps, Jonathan began to walk slowly forward, each time his foot hit the ground a fresh wave of paint exploding around the red carpet. The feeling of the ground was unlike anything he had experienced before, blisteringly cold but also refreshingly warm, both hard and squidgy beneath his feet until he felt like his soles would both blister from the hardness and be sucked into the softness. The air around him was dead and still, no sounds escaping the mysterious veil of seething black and red, no subtle smells or obnoxious mingling of scent betraying where he was, or why he was here.

Jonathan walked and walked for what felt like millennia, trudging along the red path, staining the crimson multiple hues of bright, flashing colours, eyes trained on the mist in front of him, a strange sense of eagerness and urgency surrounding his being, as if somewhere, within this creepy, swirling expanse lied a secret, a mystery to be uncovered by him and him alone. And so he walked, batting away at the mist that descended upon him, emotions contained like a contamination, fear and confusion replaced by a weird, supernatural sense of direction.

There was no pain, no aches, no feelings that permeated Jonathan apart from his drive, his desire to walk. Soon enough though, a single, bubbling emotion exploded into life, forced on by a simple sound. Fear. Cold, hard fear forced itself upon Jonathan as a single bark of harsh, chilling and monstrous laughter burst around the oasis of red and black, the sound of beastly evil and terrible intentions echoing for what felt like forever until all fell silent once more, Jonathan quaking on the spot, eyes wide and sight flicking and roaming the depths of the mist for the owner of the laugh, for the monster that he knew, with all his heart, was stalking him.

Jonathan stood still, staring silently and vigorously for what felt like years on end, golden orbs raking every inch of his available sight, searching for any signs of being watched, attempting to detect any signs of being viewed like a television program. When nothing happened, no shrieking demons bursting from the gloom, no laughing, taunting chaotic Gods coming out of the mist like phantoms, Jonathan began to relax, the fear ebbing away like the tide, his body letting out a deep breath as he turned around to continue on his trek.

As he turned around and hit something furry, soft and warm.

“Boo!” shrieked the furry, soft and warm thing.

Jonathan yelled out in fear, immediately stumbling backwards away from whatever had shouted at him, tripping and landing on the hard yet soft ground with a light thud, multiple colours springing up and dancing around where he had fallen. The sound of rocketing, shooting, demonic laughter filled the once deathly silence, monstrous chuckles escaping from directly in front of him as Jonathan shook his head and lifted it up from its position on the ground to cast a glare at whatever had decided to spook him. His eyes swiftly widened at what he saw.

Golden eyes, a large curved front tooth, twin horns of blue and white, shaggy black hair, brown fur, white, twisted beard, bat and bird wings, lion and eagle arms, dragon and goat legs along with a massive, red snakes tail hanging off of the creatures end. Discord, the spirit of chaos and the image of evil was hanging upside down, wings flapping disjointedly and tears sprinkling from his eyes as he clutched his stomach, howling with laughter.

Jonathan felt a whimper of fear escape his throat as he slowly began to crawl backwards, hoping to vanish into the shrouded mist before he was stopped quite suddenly by one lion paw grabbing his shoulder, the God of chaos teleporting behind him to block his attempted escape.

“Come now Jonathan, you'd abandon an old friend just like that?”

Jonathan visibly shook as he spoke up in what he hoped was a defiant tone.

“W-we're not friends...”

Discord leaned his face down towards Jonathan's until they sat a heart beat apart, the mismatched, monstrous face forming into a childish pout as Discord spoke once more.

“Aww, that hurt Jonny my boy. After all I've done for you!”

Jonathan visibly restrained himself from yelling out in fear and anger at that, instead opting to ask a question of his own.

“W-where am I?”

At this Discord sighed and, with snap of his fingers, teleported himself away to a reasonable distance in front of Jonathan, conjuring up a red seated and black bodied throne of sorts with a disembodied skull on top, his contrasting and freakish body melding smoothly into the soft fabric of the throne as he raised his hand up as if clutching a globe, head raised in an exaggerated manner, his voice rising up like a serpent.

“Physically you are laying in a bed in what I believe to be the filthy Ponyville Hospital. Mentally though, oh, you are in an entirely different place, a place I would have thought you would recognize.”

Jonathan swallowed his fear, voice rising up in a shaky warble.

“W-where am I mentally then?”

At this Discord belched out a monstrous laugh, the shrouded red and black mist around him suddenly rolling around the clearing, concealing everything within three inches of Jonathan before it cleared once more, Discord now standing directly in front of Jonathan with a smirk, making the human stumble backwards with another yelp.

“You, Jonathan, are currently viewing the inside of your frail, little head. Your mind, if you wish to refer to it as such.”

When Jonathan paled and began to shake, his mouth falling open and eyes roaming the depths of the fields of red and black fruitlessly Discord couldn't help but laugh, twin disjointed hands reaching out to grasp Jonathan's cheeks, pulling at them and then smushing them together in an invasion of privacy that made Jonathan feel even more weak.

“Aw, you should have seen the look on your face buddy! P-p-priceless!”

Discord tumbled over, hands clutching his stomach as he once more burst into little giggles, the hilarity of the situation, the shock and fear on Jonathan's pathetic little face had been enough to drive the God once more over the edge into a land of mirth.

Jonathan struggled back to his feet, legs quivering and head searching the diseased looking clearing before he turned back to the still cackling spirit, voice rising up to question the demon.

“How d-did you-”

“Do what, Jonathan? How did I send your little chariot toppling out of the sky? How did I change your body, your personality? How did I watch with glee as that little white mare, Rarity, fell to her death? Or maybe you were asking how exactly I managed to trap you here, within your own mind.”

Jonathan swallowed bile and repulsion, fear settling in his stomach like a ball of ice as the monster repeated what he had dared to wish wasn't true, what he had hoped was false. Rarity had fallen and right now, in the company of the spirit, things were not looking good for her chances of survival.

“You see, your body is currently occupied with being forced into a particularly bad coma, much to the bafflement of the doctors! Oh, they're all running around confused out there, trying to figure out what exactly is keeping you under this little spell. And, if you hadn't gathered by now, it's me. You're here because I want you to be here, because I need to teach you a little lesson on obedience.”

Jonathan felt salty tears sting his eyes, making him rapidly blink as his hope, his determination, his rebellion began to melt away. Discord slowly strolled around Jonathan, tutting every once in a while, eyes roaming over the human as he began to monotonously speak.

“A little while ago, I made you promise me something when we were back on your world. I made you promise me, by pain of destruction, that you would never betray me or try to halt my progress, my vengeance and the next thing I know you were standing up to me. I was impressed at first, you certainly have spirit but now you have been getting in my way. I promised you destruction and that will happen, you will burn for your betrayal but not yet, not until you see everything else burn first. I will let you watch them burn from the shackles of your own mind.”

Jonathan felt frozen, stiff and still as if all of the blood in his body had been frozen, turning him immobile and useless. Suddenly Discord whipped in front of him, drawing a strangled whimper from Jonathan as the Gods now chipper voice rose up, his mismatched arms spread and gesturing towards the seething mass of darkness and crimson.

“Oh, that reminds me, do you like what I've done with the place? I made it specially for you. All of these little clouds, all of this pushing, intrusive, forceful mist is all to make sure you cannot do anything against my power, to dull your emotions, to render your mind immobile and useless. Alas, it didn't quite work out as well as I had hoped but it seems to be doing its job just fine now.”

Jonathan shivered once before Discord's voice returned.

“Now, back on topic, you see, when I am through with you Jonathan, for you must be punished now, then you will wish that those little cuts and bruises that you have on your body, your little boo-boos are all you have to worry about.”

Jonathan felt a flash of recognition, of something that was said that should be important, that was important, direly so. He had said something, that disastrous, monstrous spirit, something that he shouldn't have said and Jonathan was racking his mind for what it was, what could be so important that his subconscious was literally screaming at him to remember.

Discord snapped his fingers again, whipping an overly sized dentist drill out of thin air along with a small mask that covered his mouth before his muffled voice rose up again.

“Now then, your punishment, let's get started shall we!”

And then, quite suddenly, the hidden meaning, the misspoken words clicked into place.

“Wait!”

Jonathan shouted aloud, piercing the gloom of his mind, making Discord freeze in his menacing approach, the demon pulling down his mask and pouting, evil, cracked voice whining upwards in a childish tone.

“But whhhhhhy?”

Jonathan forced a shaky grin onto his face, trying to cover up his anxiety and terror by appearing confident, the illusion failing dismally as Discord swallowed a laugh at the pale, pathetic face of the human as Jonathan spoke up, drowning out the chuckle.

“I'm in a coma, right?”

Discord sighed, his drill and mask disappearing as he flopped onto his conjured throne once more, already bored but willing to go through with whatever the little human had in mind if only for the pleasure of seeing the joy and the hope leave his squishy, pink little face.

“Yes.”

“With only a few scrapes and bruises?”

“Yep.”

“After falling from an incredibly high distance?”

“...Yeah.”

Jonathan couldn't contain the smug smile, the gesture making Discord shift in his throne so he was staring fully at the human, eyes narrowed as Jonathan spoke up once more in a partially cocky, partially nervous voice.

“So, why aren't I dead?”

There was no reply from the perched form of the God of chaos, Discord instead narrowing his eyes slightly as if trying to decipher where exactly the human was going with this little scheme, this little plan of his. Jonathan began to speak again, quietly but with a sense of urgency, as if he had to get these words out, as if he had to make Discord see the point, as if he had to convince himself of the information.

“I should be dead, I really, really should. I hit the ground first, I shielded, uh... Rarity, I think her name was, from the fall, I disobeyed you and yet you've told me that I'm in a coma, with a few cuts and bruises.”

Discord frowned, both in malice and in confusion as Jonathan began to speak more rapidly, delving into a roll of sorts, his speech picking up with intensity.

“Why did I live? My body isn't strong enough to survive that fall, that chariot wasn't stable enough to provide us protection. Hell, I even heard the loud thud when I hit the floor and yet you tell me I am merely in a coma of your doing, cuts and bruises as my only signs of what happened. I should be dead, so why aren't I?”

Getting bored, Discord let out a low snort, curling himself into his throne as he spoke up in a voice positively dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, I have no idea.”

This just caused Jonathan to smile more brightly, a sign that made discord cringe in repulsion.

“I think I do.”

Discord sighed once more before he snapped his fingers, a bowl of popcorn appearing out of thin air as the Go began to shovel it into his mouth, speaking through a vast amount of the food.

“Do tell.”

Jonathan sighed out a shaky breath before he dived back into his speech, thoughts and ideas racing out of his mouth.

“A little while back, when I was standing up to you in the infirmary you hurt me. Not physically, never physically but mentally. I felt such pain, such turmoil and yet there was not a single thing wrong with my body, not a speck or a cell out of place. And I think I know why, why you didn't hurt me then and why you didn't let me die now.”

Discord let out a growl of anger, his popcorn disappearing with a farting sound as his throne scooted forward, sprouting wheels and blasting off until it sat directly in front of Jonathan, the God's eyes ablaze with rage a he spoke up in a menacing voice.

“Why, my dear Jonathan, do I refuse to hurt you then?”

Jonathan ignored the malice and the hatred behind that voice, completely focused on what he hoped had been a victory against Discord, a correct guess in a sea of unknowns.

“You can't hurt me, not physically anyway because that would create too many questions, that would sprout too many suspicions. My body is changing, that they will notice but then, quite suddenly, if I start to develop lacerations, bruises all over my body they may start to suspect something sooner than they normally would.”

Discord growled again deep in his throat but Jonathan ignored him.

“You can't hurt me because this body, my body is your body as well and whatever you do to me physically will stay, will be a blemish on your perfect alteration that you are cooking up. That's why you never hurt me physically, that's why you let me live because you need me. I am your refuge, your body. Without me you'd be nothing. You can't hurt me and, you know what Discord, right now I feel fantastic knowing that.”

Perhaps it was the passing wave of fear fuelled adrenaline that was rushing away from his body or maybe it was simply the fact that, judging by Discord's baffled and shocked reaction, he had guessed right but Jonathan couldn't help but let out a little gloat before Discord's now deep, gravelly and harsh voice rose up to silence the human.

“If that is true Jonathan, my buddy, then why did I smash you around your little apartment back on Earth?”

Jonathan paused in his triumphant, glowing feeling of victory, eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation as Discord continued to glower at him from his crafted throne. Seconds went by, a small tug of a malicious grin growing on Discord's face as he beheld the humans confusion and shattering hope, his ideas, which had been true, scattering to dust before Jonathan visibly brightened, his voice exploding from him.

“You needed to scare me, to make me feel as I I was in your complete control and there was nothing you could do about it. You needed to make me fear you, to make me fear your punishment and what you could do to me and so you attacked me. You were never going to do me serious damage, you just needed to frighten your little puppet.”

Discord snarled loudly, pushing himself out of his throne so that his face touched Jonathan's, anger rolling through his golden eyes as he locked gazes with the human before Discord pulled back, a manic but confident smile on his face, the God of chaos once more sinking into the throne with a look of pure glee, the sight making Jonathan shiver and step away in both shock and tinges of worry.

Discord's voice broke the canopy of eerie quietness, the seductive yet dangerous purr of his usual voice breaking through and slithering around Jonathan's head.

“Very good Jonathan, very good indeed. You are right, I cannot harm you physically, it would cause too much of a strain on your body and my transformations may begin to go a bit more out of the loop.”

Jonathan cracked a smile as Discord voiced the truth before his smile fell as the monster continued.

“But you think this gives you power over me? You think I can't wound those around you? Rarity is merely evidence that whatever you may think there is no escape from me, from punishment. Perhaps I cannot hurt you physically but does that apply for every other stinking creature on the face of this planet?”

Jonathan swallowed a gulp as Discord continued, his shining moment of triumph starting to fade away.

“And then we come onto the little fact that, no, I cannot hurt you physically but mentally Jonathan, oh mentally I can do whatever I truly please as long as you keep a hold of your sanity. I would so hate to drive around a mad meat puppet.”

Jonathan trembled once in horror before he steeled himself, attempting to hide the fear from the demonic God before him.

“The things I can put you through Jonathan, the requisite, delicious torture that I can wreak upon your mind may very well make you wish I would hurt you physically. I am a God of chaos inside the mind of another creature, think of all the anarchy and pain I could bring down on the poor thing.”

Jonathan swallowed his fear, trying to remain rebellious and confident yet failing miserably.

“I could torture your mind until you begged for me to take your life, until you begged and sobbed for mercy. I could take your body and I could make your hurt those ponies, make you squeeze their throats and break the-”

“No! I won't let you!”

The hoarse, torn yell escaped Jonathan's throat as images of his tripping of Band Aid, of his joy at seeing the blood, at his lust to make the unicorn sob rolled around his head, the terrible experience allowing anger to claim his heart once more. Discord purred softly in humour, his voice rising up to further infuriate the human.

“You can't stop me.”

Jonathan gritted his teeth at the resignation behind Discord's voice, as if the God of chaos knew exactly how every possible plan would end, how every one of his attempts at rebellion would fail.

“I can try.”

Discord chuckled.

“So you can but right here, right now you can do nothing to stop me. This is my home now, my domain, my stomping ground and there is not a single thing you can do to fight me.”

On cue, a large, slender, stone platform rose out of the ground behind Jonathan, the human turning to watch it rise from the murky red floor until it rested at the height of the bottom of his waist. Jonathan turned back to Discord, a question on his lips before he felt two hands push into his chest, making him tumble backwards onto the sacrificial looking stone platform, iron shackles immediately sprouting up and chaining his arms and legs to the stone, Jonathan crying out in both pain and fear as the metal dug into his skin. The freezing feeling of the stone seeped through the back of his crafted white toga, making his skin crawl and pimple with the cold as Jonathan raised his head up to find Discord.

The God in question was currently slapping on a pair of latex gloves, his surgical mask back on his face, a dentist drill hanging from a strange looking utility belt that stretched around his malformed waist before Discord spied Jonathan looking at him, the sound of snap of rubber against skin making Jonathan cringe as Discord pulled the last glove on, his golden eyes shining with childish excitement. Discord began to circle the stone bed before he pulled out the dentist drill and spoke up in a sing-song voice.

“Oh Jonny boy, I just know we are going to have the bestest of fun times together!”

The laughter echoed.

The drill whirred.

The human screamed.

[.]

Jonathan bolted up, eyes wide and sweat caking his body, a gasp of shock and expected pain escaping his throat as he clutched tightly onto a roll of fabric that had been settled over his now naked body, golden orbs searching around the area for any sign of danger, for any indication of dentistry Discord delighting in delivering drills of demise. Jonathan let out a shaky half sigh, half sob of relief as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and he saw where exactly he had been stationed.

He was in a long, white tiled room, surrounded by a faint blue curtain that gleamed immaculately in the frail, fickle light that a small lamp situated further along the hallway was producing. The floor itself was made up of faint white tiles, the ceiling being a normal, modern white ceiling with peeling paint and small crack dotting its surface. Jonathan noted that, in an incredibly similar circumstance, he was laying on a crispy, soft and sinking bed, his body wrapped inside a tight bundle of bed sheets, his head propped up by two gleaming white pillows that held the same colour as the sheets. Beside him, to his left rested a wooden bedside table, a cool glass of twinkling water resting on top along with a small tray of biscuits and what appeared to be a Mare Magazine. Dimly, Jonathan could see the shadow of a large door silhouetted on his green, concealing curtain. Jonathan glanced around once more, noticing the small electrodes attached to him, their leads trailing up to a machine that was beeping gently before Jonathan pulled off the sticky equipment, causing the machine to emit a now loud, long, continuous drone that echoed around the hospital ward, making Jonathan clasp his ears at the massive noise, his head already starting to hurt.

Almost immediately after the sound started, the shadowed door burst open with a loud crash and a bang, the rapid sound of hooves on tiles bouncing around the infirmary as Jonathan's green curtain was yanked backwards, a white mare with a nurses hat and gentle pink hair bursting into his concealed area, her head tilted towards the door as she yelled at the top of her lungs, voice cracking.

“He's going into cardiac arrest, somepony get the defibrillators!”

This nurse pony that tilted her head back to Jonathan and, seeing him fully awake and alive, staring at her with wide eyes, she let out a strangled squeak, her legs suddenly starting to shake as the bipedal alien set his eyes on her. Still she managed to turn her head back around and, much more quietly, spoke up to whomever was behind the door.

“N-never mind.”

Jonathan blinked at the pony, noticing her marble white coat, her meticulously groomed and expertly bunned hair along with her nurses hat and what appeared to be a red cross etched onto her flank surrounded by little red hearts. With hasty, hesitant step, the nurse pony stepped forward towards the bottom of his bed and, with her teeth, grabbed the small note board that sat at the bottom of his bed before she cautiously began to back away towards the door, keeping fearful eyes locked on him at all times.

Jonathan tried to speak but his voice had been out of production for too long, only a small, gravelly and harsh grunt escaping from his mouth, the sound making the white mares ears arch backwards, her eyes to begin to water and then, within a manner of seconds, her legs to quiver and shake as she wheeled around and bolted for the door as fast as possible. Jonathan raised his arm to try and signal her back, his croaky voice just puncturing the relative gloom of the hospital ward before she disappeared from sight.

“P-please R-R-Rarity...”

Jonathan began to cough violently, his throat sore and raw, making him let out little heaving noises as he tried to clear his airways, frantically turning to the water and draining it all in one, some excess liquid spilling down his front and cooling on his chest, making him shiver. Jonathan attempted to speak up again, to call the nurse back and ask over the fate of Rarity but the silence he was greeted by suggested that there would be nobody, or pony to listen to him. Jonathan cautiously roamed his hands down his body, wincing as he encountered lacerations and deep, blotchy bruises before he let out a soft sigh and turned his gaze towards the bedside table, hand putting the discarded empty glass back on the brown oak table with a soft clink.

Jonathan then turned his attention to one of the biscuits once his stomach rumbled and moaned loudly, simulating thunder perfectly before he devoured the biscuits, crumbs scattering along his bed and down himself as he fell back onto the hospital bed with a soft flop, air escaping him as the quiet, yet peaceful sounds of clopping reached his ears again, the hoof-steps growing louder and louder until they paused directly behind the door.

Jonathan let out a little groan of frustration as he spoke up in an irritated tone, aggravated by the fear and the shock that the nurse had displayed, attempting to force some life into the probably fear frozen pony behind the doorway.

“I'm not going to bite you know.”

The voice that greeted him was familiar, very familiar and it seemed to border on the edge of teasing.

“Oh I know that, you're not really in any shape to try and eat anypony at the moment.”

The trotting continued until a mare presented herself to him, the green curtains rustling as she pushed her lavender, horned head through to stare at Jonathan. Jonathan blinked before he shook his head, eyeing up the purple furred, bright eyed and blue maned unicorn pony before him.

“Uh, Twinkle Starlight?”

Twilight sighed to herself softly as the human continued to stare at her with guilt and confusion.

“No, it's Twilight Sparkle. I thought you would remember that considering you're going to be living with me for a while.”

Jonathan opened his mouth to utter a half-hearted apology before a much better, much more important question sprung to mind, the urgency, the need to know the answer making him stutter.

“Rarity-Is she-How? What-”

Twilight silenced him with a raised hoof and a soft smile that seemed to warm Jonathan's heart, making Discord let out a little retching sound.

“She's in the hospital at the moment, as are you. She has three cracked ribs and one broken foreleg but apart from that she's fine. If her story is correct, you saved her life.”

Jonathan felt a sick feeling of dread bubble up in him at Twilight's words. Of course the news that Rarity was alive and would be on her way to a recovery soon enough allowed his spirit to flush with happiness but what Twilight had said last, how he had apparently saved her, it chilled Jonathan to the core. If it wasn't for him and his stupid, reckless, childish attempts to outwit and overpower the vengeful God than Rarity would never have gotten hurt. He tuned back into the waking world just as Twilight finished whatever else she had said.

“...And for that reason I think you should stay at the hospital for the night. You already look pretty tired.”

Jonathan mumbled slightly and, yes, now that she mentioned it and in a completely cliched manner he couldn't help but feel the drowsiness catching up to him, his lack of a good, proper sleep making his eyes droop somewhat. Jonathan managed to stutter and stumble out a response.

“N-need...to see...Rarity.”

Twilight smiled softly at the humans apparent want to protect Rarity and his almost caring approach to her before she spoke up again.

“Now, now. She'll be there in the morning and so will you. Why don't you get some sleep?”

Jonathan struggled to keep his eyes open as he spoke up once more, a small yawn ending his sentence.

“Why'd you come to see me if you were just going to leave straight away?”

Twilight blinked once before the same gentle smile crossed her features.

“Well for one I wanted to see how you are. Then there's the little fact that not many ponies are willing to approach you at the moment because of you...differences with us. And then I thought that you would probably want to know about Rarity since you did risk your life to protect her.”

Jonathan nodded drowsily, another yawn splitting the halls of the hospital as he felt something grip him and begin to pull him into the arms of Morpheus once more except this grip was not the pleasant, warm and enticing grip of an exhausted, needed sleep. No, this grip screamed of a desperate need for Jonathan to return to the land of sleep, a lust for Jonathan to fall under the spell of snooze so that whatever had dragged him under could feel a sense of perverse pleasure.

Jonathan tried to speak up, to gain Twilight's assistance in the matter as he felt himself being pulled under by the malicious, laughing, victorious hands of Discord. The little lavender mare though merely regarded Jonathan with a look of friendship and thanks, thanks at saving one of her most precious, most perfect friends before she began to trot away, turning off whatever fickle source of light that had been keeping the darkness at bay as Jonathan slipped once more into a deep, haunted, terrified sleep.

Jonathan opened his eyes to be met by the shrouded walls of red and black, to feel the cold stone table underneath him, to see Discord staring at him with intensity and glee, his face set in an impish grin.

And, once again, the human began to scream.

A/N: The chapters will take a little longer to come out now that I have started my conclusion to one of my other stories. Updates will still be regular though, I reckon one every week.

Anyway, I know the scene at the end was a bit rushed and didn't really need to be out in but I wanted a little something, a little hope after the darkness. I just wrote about five thousand words of those over two hours so I'm pretty dang pooped.

Enjoy the chapter, tell me what you think and, as always, constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms.

A Ditzy Encounter

“Everything checks out, you're free to go!”

Jonathan smiled down at the white furred nurse, his body sitting on a particularly cold, metal bench that would most certainly have been used for animal procedures back on Earth, the freezing touch chilling through him, tainting his skin.

After the little mishap last night with the fear he had accidentally but inevitably invoked in the poor pony nurse, Twilight had spoken to her, the self acclaimed Nurse Redheart, and had stated quite clearly that Jonathan the human was not only never going to harm her in any way but that he had ended up saving one of her very close, very dear friends from a terrible, splattery fate. After hearing this from the bearer of the Element of Magic, the once timid, spooked nurse had managed to calm herself down quite a bit and, after speaking with the early roused Jonathan, had opted to apologizing outright towards her ludicrous behaviour last night and how it was not only completely out of character for her but also highly unprofessional.

Jonathan had merely stated that it was no worry to him, that he had expected reactions like that from the citizens of this quaint little town, his early morning mind having managed to lose the name of his current area, and that he thought no less of her for running from him. In fact, in his personal opinion, it took a lot of courage in the first place to stroll into the same room as the human, eager and ready to make sure he had not died, or will not die. Topped with the fact that she had come to apologize to him rather sorrowfully and guiltily, the human couldn't helped but admire her courage and her caring, almost timid nature, the little apology going a long way for the fearful and almost constantly wounded human.

After talking with the nurse for a while, at first about his medical condition, how he should refrain from jumping out of falling chariots at extreme heights and how he should get make sure to stretch and roll his back muscles regularly to stop them from locking up after the fall had unconsciously given him a severe case of whiplash, his neck and back muscles straining and taut. Then, secondly and almost comically quickly, they had begun to talk about more normal topics that seemed the complete opposite of the nurses earlier instructions towards incredibly dangerous falls, her light questioning on how he survived being similarly lightly shrugged off by Jonathan, his thoughts racing as he tried to stem the flow of lies that sat on his tongue.

They had talked of the occupation of the nurse, how she liked her job and how eager and happy she was that her sister, Nurse Tenderheart, had followed in her hoof steps. Afterwards, the had talked about the jobs of the six Elements of Harmony, first of Rarity the illustrious, professional and regal dress-maker who never failed to create an astounding, wonderful piece of fashionable and affordable art. Then came Rainbow Dash, a local member of the pegasi weather team, her job being cloud clearing and weather manipulating even though, Nurse Redheart had said with a huff, she always seemed to be taking a nap instead of doing her job. Next was Fluttershy and her job as the local vet to all the animals, even taking in a vast majority of the little critters to look after them and befriend them, a lot of the animals opting to stay with the shy, reclusive sounding pegasus who lived at the edge of the forest. Applejack was next, being the hard working and dependable owner and farmer of the world renowned Sweet Apple Acres, a vast amount of the apple income of all of Ponyville coming from the humble orange mare and her family. Pinkie Pie was said to work at a bakery and confectionery store towards the centre of Ponyville, a nice yet rather odd looking building called Sugarcube Corner also housing the bubbly pink mare. Finally, Jonathan found out with some level of understanding and forethought, the the nerdish Twilight Sparkle did work in the Ponyville library, a fact that Jonathan had already clued in on what with him staying there and all. However, he didn't know that she was also housing someone else, apparently a cute little boy known as Spike who constantly declared himself her number one assistant.

After their little discussion, the nurse had trotted off to retrieve Jonathan's breakfast, the small clock on his bedside which must have been moved there in the night telling him that it was now seven thirty in the morning. The nurse had swiftly returned carrying a tray on her back with a single, clear glass of fresh, clean, crisp looking water and a bowl of incredibly foul smelling substances, the mere idea that what was before him was 'food' making Jonathan nervously think about what other forms of cuisine awaited him in Ponyville. So far he had been relatively well fed on apples and other such fruits but if this was what was most common in Ponyville than he didn't know how long he could truly last. He had, rather grudgingly and with heaps of force and pressure from Nurse Redheart, taken a single spoonful of the strange concoction before him and had immediately spat it out, spraying the glistening tray on his lap with chunks of wriggling, luminous green food, some of the jelly like substance hitting his bed and causing the nurse to turn away with a huff, trying to hold back a small smile at the look of horror and repulsion on the humans face.

After Jonathan had cleaned himself up with a selection of small but incredibly absorbent wipes that Nurse Redheart had found and given to him, Jonathan had asked if there was a toilet and a shower he could use, his urge to relieve himself growing ever stronger, a lot like his repelling scent. The nurse had responded enthusiastically, obviously happy that she would no longer have to put up with the sweaty smelling human, making him follow her sluggishly to a small room of which he had to duck his head down under the doorway to enter, a simple flick of a light switch illuminating a nice, shiny bathroom complete with a shower and accessories. Jonathan had happily sighed to himself at the sight, the suppressed thoughts of the madness and medley of horror that was exploding in his mind at that very moment being washed away by relief at the sight of the cleansing tool.

Jonathan had emerged twenty minuets later, flooding the hallway with steam as he strode out of the bathroom, shrouded in his dirty yet unharmed toga, a content, happy smile on his face as he nodded a little thank you to the nurse who had heard the door click open and had similarly emerged from an adjacent door to shoot a small smile in the humans directions. Together they had walked back to Jonathan's room so that Nurse Redheart could read his chart again, having relinquished her grip on it from the night before by putting it back in its original position, before Jonathan had asked her why there was a stunning lack of patients in the hospital. The reply had been a doubled edged sword for Jonathan though, the small hesitance at the question from the nurse immediately triggering him onto something not being quite right. Apparently, there were not too many injuries in Ponyville, if you disregarded one cyan furred mare who seemed to love returning to the hospital time and time again. She had informed him that there were plenty of sick ponies but because of his unusualness and ability to frighten the easily spooked ponies, he had been whisked away to a secluded part of the hospital where it had been her duty to care for him, leaving her sister Nurse Tenderheart to look after the other patients.

The idea that not many ponies were ever truly hurt enough to go to the hospital, apart from the daring Rainbow Dash, had made Jonathan feel happy for the small equine race but the simple fact that because of his appearance and simple ability to alienate those around him, sick, weak ponies had had to be moved just to make room for him. He hadn't voiced his rather sullen thoughts but the nurse must have gathered on because she had replied rather brusquely and stubbornly that it was not his fault, that he couldn't change who or what he was and that it would just take some time for the ponies to accustom themselves to him. Jonathan had nodded along, secretly pleased that she would try and settle his thoughts but also concealing his growing guilt at the prospect and idea that many much worse off patients were now segregated away from him.

Nurse Redheart had since managed to move and signal Jonathan back to his room, where she had recovered the chart with a gentle flick of her nose and a clasp of her teeth, signalling Jonathan to follow her with a flick of her tail as she strolled back out of the room and towards a closed doorway. With a loud thus of her right foreleg, the door was knocked open and the pony and the alien strolled inside, Nurse Redheart trotting over to a simple desk where she seemed to thoroughly inspect the chart for any irregularities, occasionally muttering to herself as Jonathan looked around the small room, the most noticeable feature being the metal slab in the middle, the outside area surrounded by cupboards and desks that were littered with expensive looking equipment and random medicine, ranging from bright green gunge inside a syringe to luminous orange pills inside a small, opaque bottle.

A few moments later, Nurse Redheart had turned around and asked him to sit on top of the metal slab, before she whirled back around and proceeded to grab all sorts of medical equipment, once more turning back around to face Jonathan with her mouth stuffed full of random items and a stethoscope around her neck, the look of already primed concentration in her eyes combined with the odd, quirky assortment of objects in her mouth nearly made Jonathan burst into hysterics before he caught himself.

That was where he was now, just finishing up the numerous procedures that the nurse had insisted needed to happen to safely determine his health, listening to his heart, checking his temperature, testing for muscular damage and a ton of other random and, in Jonathan's opinion, pointless tests. Still, it was coming to an end now and for that Jonathan was happy as the nurse led him out of the room with a pleased smile on her face, leading him down numerous corridors and twisting turns before he came upon a set of double doors, Nurse Redheart swinging them open with a quick jab of her hoof, the doors knocking slightly against the wall.

Jonathan was shocked, pleasantly so, when he cast his eyes on the small lavender unicorn who was seated in what was obviously the hospital waiting room, indicated by the plush red chairs, the small table with a vast amount of magazines, the old, white, peeling walls and the cold tiled floor. Twilight was currently reading a small, brown stained magazine that seemed to be something revolving around science, judging by the large electromagnet picture on the front and the title of the magazine which read quite clearly Equestrian Scientist Weekly. The whole edition of the magazine must have been a few months out judging by the colour and simple look of the paper but Twilight was devouring the knowledge as if it were precious food.

Nearly as soon as Jonathan entered the stale air room though, she put the magazine down and proceeded to hop off of the chair, flashing a broad grin at both him and Nurse Redheart, the human reflecting the look hastily. Twilight trotted over to Nurse Redheart after saying a quiet but happy 'hello' to Jonathan, the twin mares walking away slightly to talk quietly, Jonathan unconsciously leaning forward to attempt to hear what they were saying, to no avail.

Luckily, the conversation seemed to last a mere few seconds as Twilight smiled, nodded and thanked Nurse Redheart before she trotted over to Jonathan, the white furred nurse waving goodbye to him as she exited through the double doors. Twilight spoke up to Jonathan quite suddenly, making him flinch without realizing.

“Nurse Redheart says you're good to go. I'm guessing you want to see your home for the near future!”

Without allowing a word in edgewise from Jonathan, Twilight turned around and began to quite happily trot away, humming a little tune to herself as Jonathan blinked at the carefree mare, raising his hand out to her as if he were trying to reach her and draw her back before he lowered it and started after her, quickly catching up and speaking rather shakily, quietly but forcefully.

“I-I'd like to see how Rarity is doing...”

This alone made the purple unicorn mare beside Jonathan freeze up, her eyes twitching from side to side to stare at Jonathan and then at the wall with bulbous orbs, a small yet fake smile plastering across her face as her hooves began to scrape against the ground awkwardly, incredibly high tones rising out of her brimming with deceit.

“Oh, eh, Rarity can't have any visitors today because she's...she's...not feeling very well!”

Jonathan frowned at the shuffling mare beside him, suspicion flying across his face as he spoke up in a quiet but strong tone.

“Twilight, you're not very good at lying.”

A manic giggle burst from Twilight's lips as she continued to dart her gaze around the room, voice at its unusually high peak as she replied.

“Lying, who's lying? Certainly not me, I'd never lie!”

The look Jonathan gave Twilight, a raised eyebrow, hard, disbelieving eyes and a firm stance, arms crossed stubbornly made the small mare cave in rapidly, her innocent mind not accustomed to lying to any creature as she let out a little sigh and spoke up in a defeated voice.

“Fine, you got me. You can't see Rarity but I don't want to say why.”

Jonathan felt the first tingles of worry race up his spine, the first trickles of fear drip into his mind as he spoke up again in a hardened voice.

“Twilight, please.”

Twilight pouted slightly, trying to trot through the double doors in front of her, attempting to escape the conversation by plowing her way through Ponyville and back to her library. She was stopped in her tracks by the form of a giant human, his shadow blocking out the light as he cast her an anxious, almost pitiful gaze, his voice soft and yet somehow resounding, the nervousness in his voice seeping through.

“Please.”

That simple word, filled with such desolation and worry very nearly made Twilight crack and tell him everything but she gritted her teeth, closed her eyes and with strained words spoke up again, refusing to give in.

“No. Now follow me to the library.”

Twilight headed towards the doors, brushing past the human with a huff and trotting forward until she reached the double wooden doors, turning her head back to see Jonathan in the exact same place he had been standing in before, this time with a look of hurt and determination painting his features. Twilight huffed in an aggravated manner, calling out to him.

“C'mon Jonathan!”

“No.”

Twilight blinked slowly, a small daze covering her face as she snorted, trotting up to Jonathan and jabbing him with her nose.

“Just follow me!”

“Not until you tell me what's wrong with Rarity.”

“No!”

“I think I deserve to know, I did save her ass from dying!”

“It's not what you want to hear!”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn't!”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn't!”

“Yes it is!”

“Fine,” Twilight shouted, her voice rocketing around the hospital as she fumed with anger, her cheeks painted a faint red colour, her eyes almost alight with irritation, “she doesn't want to see you because she's scared of you!”

Jonathan flinched back, eyes wide and scared at Twilight's loud voice and the message she had practically screamed at him, bile in his throat as he rolled those words around his mind. Even the pony he had saved from imminent death, even she was scared of him. What hope did he truly have of befriending all the others when an act as powerful and compelling as that was met with fear. She was scared of him, after everything he had done, she was still scared. That simple thought, that simple fact pierced Jonathan to the core, flooding his veins with such desolate coldness that it threatened to engulf him entirely.

Twilight panted in anger, still glaring at the human with frustration and irritation, her cheeks flooded red and her eyes shining with rage before the expression shifted on her face from anger to guilt and worry. The look that travelled swiftly but surely across Jonathan's face, of self loathing and horror, made her instantly regret her words as Jonathan took a small step backwards, his golden eyes dimmed and dead, his body strangely jerky and almost beaten. Twilight spoke up, attempting to apologize with a weak, frail and shaky voice.

“J-Jonathan, I'm sorry. I d-don't know what happened to m-me. I didn't mean to.”

Jonathan's golden orbs flickered down to Twilight, filled with such sorrow and confusion, his voice rising up whisperingly as if he had been hit in the stomach.

“Why is she scared?”

Twilight's ears darted back at the hollow, harrowed sadness in that voice.

“S-she's travelled by pegasus chariot may times before and this was the first time there were complications. She...she isn't admitting it but me and the girls think that for some reason she blames you for what happens. It's like...it's like just as you arrive something terrible happens to her so she assumed that you were the one responsible. I'm...I'm sorry Jonathan.”

Jonathan swept his gaze towards the ceiling, trying to conceal the small film of tears that sat tauntingly along his eyes, the sadness and the self loathing he felt at the simple, yet painful fact that Rarity, the unicorn he had saved from death hated him most out of all others. No, there was something else that hated him more then Rarity, something much, much worse.

Twilight visibly flinched when Jonathan brought his head back down from the ceiling, her purple eyes staring into his golden, if slightly red and puffy ones for a split second, seeing the pain and the deathly look behind his golden pools, speaking up in a vague, half-hearted attempt to comfort him.

“Jonathan, I'm sorry, it's just that-”

“Let's just go to the library.”

Even his voice was dead, devoid of any spark of humanity or emotion as Jonathan began to heavily stomp forward until he stood beside Twilight, his cold eyes flicking down to stare at her and then back to the door, cutting his emotions off from her like yarn, barring any shred of feeling that may permeate the air around him. Twilight visibly drooped in shame, head craning down her neck, eyes half closing as she began to boorishly trot out of the hospital towards the double doors, guilt bubbling up and eating her from the inside out as she nudged the door open with her nose, allowing Jonathan to finally, finally walk freely into the town, Twilight following close behind with a shaky, stuttered call of 'wait!'

[.]

The walk through the small, seemingly quiet but welcoming village was a memory that Jonathan would never forget. He had managed to accumulate a vast number of looks from the equine citizens as he trudged wordlessly through the clustered streets with Twilight at his side, the sight of one of the Elements of Harmony escorting the strange creature being enough of a relief for the townsponies not to run away screaming in abject terror. Still, whilst wearing his dead, cold scowl and with the little viewing of any conversation between the hairless monkey and the Element of Magic, Jonathan had managed to acquire a large quantity of frightened murmurs and questioning, but timid, looks thrown his way from the ponies, each one of them backing off from him as he drew closer and closer to his probable destination, each equine he met immediately dashing out of his path with a little whimper that drove the shard of ice deeper into Jonathan's heart, the fear and the uncertainty that permeated the air almost enough to drive him mad, to send him screaming out at the ponies that he was no threat, that it wasn't his fault over what happened, that they should love him for what he did, not loathe or fear him. Still, he kept his voice concealed away, attempting to swallow the ball of guilt, anger and sadness that rose up from his stomach to churn in his throat.

Every once in a while, Twilight would pipe up and try and start a weak conversation with the human, attempting to draw him out of whatever shell he had crawled into and, every time, Jonathan would reply with a one word answer that was filled to the brim with a desire to remain silent, with a want for Twilight to stop these petty, foolish little conversational pokes of hers. His mind was dwelling on other topics when he saw the first glint of a recognizable face, when he turned his head sharply to spot out the orange coated mare behind a stall of what appeared to be apples. For a split second, as her freckled face fell upon his, Applejack seemed to take on a look of fear before it was drowned out by a hardened look as she nodded calmly in his direction before returning to the selling of her apples. That simple moment though, that fleeting look of terror was enough to make Jonathan turn away from her quickly, to turn his head away from Twilight similarly so as to block the small twinkles of tears from their view.

They continued through the streets in a similar fashion, being constantly talked about, constantly glanced at but never approached, never talked to and never chatting with one another, the lavender mare watching Jonathan guiltily but also with a shred of annoyance, as if she couldn't understand why he didn't wish to talk. They passed a timid, frightened looking Fluttershy whose only response to them passing her by being a light squeak and a vicious dive underneath her mane. They passed underneath a whistling, soaring, racing Rainbow Dash who, when Twilight called to her good naturedly, offered no reply and instead flew further away from the pair. They ran into Pinkie Pie who, whilst she was continually bouncing and hopping in place, seemed a bit too constrained, the almost forced smile on her face suggesting that all was not well with the pink mare. Occasionally, they would get a little, faint and feeble wave from one of the ponies but it was always directed towards Twilight and it was almost always accusing, too frantic, too vigorous to be a normal wave. It seemed to suggest an underlying feeling of not only confusion but of anger, of an anger that she would dare bring whatever creature this was into a town filled with foals and fillies.

Dimly, Jonathan realized he should be admiring the scenery, the houses, the architecture of the house but his mind refused to pull through and allow him, instead mixing the colours together to form a grey blur of sorts, his emotions seeping through and dulling his vision. So zoned out was he, so in touch with the mental side of his lie rather then the physical side, Jonathan was roused quite furiously from his dazed state by the whistling of wind and a low sound that closely resembled a shriek before he was slammed in the gut by a rocketing ball of grey fur, both of them being sent toppling back by the impact.

Groggily, moaning in pain and clutching his stomach, Jonathan allowed his head to lift from its resting place on the dirt floor, immediately noting the small bundle of grey fur and golden yellow mane that lay upon his chest, spread eagled, four limbs laying across the upper parts of his legs and the lower parts of his arms, the pegasi pony that had hit him quite viciously laying her head dazedly upon his chest, for it was obviously a she judging by build, her face concealed behind a swash of thick, hay coloured hair. And then, just as sluggishly as his own movements, the mare on his chest raised her head in an almost drunken state to stare at the human she was laying on straight in the the face.

The first thing Jonathan took notice of was the mares twinkling, amber coloured eyes that seemed to overflow with kindness but also with an almost timid fear of being mocked, of being ridiculed. The second thing he noticed was that whilst the right eyes was fixed on him, the left eye was wandering around its socket like it had a mind of its own. Dimly, Jonathan recalled a rather vulgar term for what he was seeing before him. Wall eyes. From somewhere behind him, Jonathan heard Twilight give out a faint gasp of astonishment and, not fear exactly, but mortification over what had happened.

With a slight rustling of wings and a little shiver that coursed through her light grey body, the mare flapped to her hooves beside Jonathan, tilting her head to look at him curiously and quizzically before, much to Jonathan's pleasant surprise, she shot a little, guilty smile at him and extended one of her hooves to help him to his feet, it was not like that little appendage would in any way assist him but it was the thought behind the gesture that slammed into Jonathan much like the collision with the mare.

Jonathan raised his hand up and grasped the mares hoof firmly, feeling how warm and soft it was and how, as he clutched it, she let out a faint giggle before he hauled himself to his feet, making sure not to drag the bedraggled mare down. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Twilight Sparkle and a small group of ponies watching the incident with wide eyes and open jaws, as if they were expecting him to take vengeance or something. They were not, however, expecting Jonathan to shoot a timid looking smile at the mare, who seemed to relax a little bit at the facial movement, her voice rising up around the strangely silent town, a slight trill and warble clearly visible in her almost child-like tones.

“Sorry mister, I wasn't looking where I was going.”

Jonathan smiled more widely at this, unbelieving of the fact that here she was, the home species of the humble planet he currently resided upon, apologizing to him, the terrifying alien ape that seemed incapable of causing nothing but strife and fear.

“No problem Miss, I'm sure it was an accident... My name's Jonathan.”

The mare before him smiled properly and happily for the first time, obviously filled with relief that he had not taken to anger immediately, the quiet hush of the crowd becoming more apparent as the mare's voice rose up again, this time almost bubbly.

“My name's Ditzy Doo but everypony calls me Derpy.”

Jonathan's smile wavered slightly at the name before he dropped his voice down, daring to ask the question that had risen unbidden to his lips like water dribbling from a tap, his tones now whispered and almost silent so that only Ditzy and a few of the closest watchers could hear him, Twilight included.

“That's a lovely name but, Ditzy, if you don't mind me asking why...why aren't you afraid of me?”

At the mention of her name being classified as lovely, Ditzy had let out a little, embarrassed giggle but as soon as the conversation had switched to the confusion of the human over why she had not been frightened, the mare before him seemed to adopt a hardened look before replying in an almost desolately cold voice.

“Just because somepon-someone looks different doesn't mean they are scary or mean or different inside.”

Jonathan blinked in surprise at the mare before him, of her almost accusing stance, opening his mouth to speak before he was silenced by a fairly noticeable cough that exploded from Twilight, his head turning to stare at her, her face set in an almost disapproving scowl before she nodded her head backwards at the large crowd that had gathered around them, indicating that this was not the type of entrance she had wanted for him in Ponyville. With a light sigh, Jonathan turned back to Ditzy.

“Well, it was a pleasure meeting you Miss Doo but I have to leave now.”

Ditzy giggled before she floated into the air with a gentle flick of her wings, turning to fly away before she shot a glance at Jonathan, speaking up carelessly as she flapped away.

“Bye Mr Jonathan!”

Jonathan watched her go for a while, eyes glazed over, not with pain or sadness, but with happiness and a flicker of hope that he could persevere, that he could endure what had happened, what would happen because he was Jonathan, because he was not the pawn of a God, not unless he caved in completely. He could fight, both the spirit of chaos and whatever social stigma these ponies must have for him because if she could, this little mare who they had called Derpy, then why shouldn't he be able to?

He was roused from his thoughts by Twilight nuzzling his hand with frustration at his zoning out, the crowd that had gathered now dispersing and leaving the scene, muttering to each other and shooting Jonathan little looks that, shockingly, contained very little fear, the main expression now being one of curiosity. The little lavender mare by his side rose up with her voice, tones high and apologetic as she began to trot away, Jonathan following her whilst continually glancing at the direction in which the wall eyed mare had flown away.

“I'm sorry about Derpy, she's such a scatterbrain.”

Jonathan replied, his voice almost jubilant.

“It was an accident, nobod-nopony's fault.”

Twilight continued to trot forward, Jonathan following close behind, glancing this way and that, the lavender unicorn's voice escalating with annoyance as she piped up.

“Hmm, she seems to have a lot of accidents revolving around her.”

Jonathan frowned at that, turning his head back to offer a retort, a rebuttal for the mare that had managed to raise his mood without even realizing it before the words were caught in his mouth, strangled and choked, his golden eyes bugging as he saw where exactly the pair of them were heading.

In front of Jonathan, perhaps twenty seconds worth of walking, sat a deep, dark, almost purple coloured tree that hosted a great head of luscious lime green and ivy coloured leaves that sprouted from its top like extending fingers. Sparkling, crystal clear windows glittered beautifully from random location across the tree, a small, red, wooden door seated in the exact centre of the behemoth, welcoming and settling into the tree fluidly with perfect ease and precision. A few balconies lay scattered across the tree, red floors and what appeared to be iron bars being the safety measurements that prevented the threat of falling from the high height. At the top of the tree sat a large, carefully positioned telescope that pointed upwards into the sky, chrome colour glinting and sparkling in the faint sunlight. Directly beside the front door sat a simple red sign with a picture of an open book, clearly indicating that whatever building this was, it would most certainly have something to do with books.

He was yanked forcefully out of his admiring, open jawed look by Twilight turning back to him and, quite rudely, poking him with her horn in his leg, obviously eager to get back home quickly and efficiently, her courtesy worn down by the earlier shouting match and the rather embarrassing walk through town. With a little shiver of anticipation, his earlier anger forgotten, Jonathan and Twilight began to walk towards their destination, Jonathan's eager, almost childish desire to see what was inside the illustrious tree even affecting Twilight, who kept turning her head to admire his painted, happy little smile, a similar look coming across her face every time she saw him.

Soon enough, they had made it to the front door, which Twilight opened for herself with a gentle aura of purple magic, trotting in calmly and quietly as Jonathan struggled to contain a squeal at the stunning and mysterious architecture, wondering to himself what would wait for him when he entered, pondering thoughts of beautiful workmanship as he dipped his head underneath the door to walk in, anticipation over the marvellous interior he was sure to find making Jonathan crack an enthusiastic eager smile.

The smile was soon wiped from his face however, when he looked up in time to see a jet of bright green flame shooting towards him.

A/N: New chapter, involving Derpy because how could I resist? This is un-edited because I am too tired to go over it at this current moment in time but I thought that the wait was long enough.

This chapter doesn't contain a lot of action, I know, but the next couple of chapter should make up for that since it will revolve around Jonathan taking a day out with each of the Mane 6 to learn certain aspects of Equestrian life or to just have a bit of fun. Madness will ensue.

Anyway, this is my last update for two weeks since I am going on holiday for that long and, I know, I've already been on holiday but that was a school related vacation, this is a full on family ordeal.

Tell me what you think of this chapter and enjoy!

Home Sweet Home

Jonathan had no time to move, no time to yell out or protect his face, no time to raise his arms up in a feeble shield. No, the only real thing Jonathan had time for was the peculiar and almost maddeningly hilarious thought which was that the fire racing towards him was not only pure green but also strangely beautiful, shimmering and twinkling in an almost ethereal light. Time seemed to slow as it drew closer and closer, as the heat batted almost lovingly at his exposed face, caressing his cheeks and hair. The flame drew closer and closer, Jonathan's limbs still frozen and rooted to the spot as an odd tingling sensation began to spread like a pandemic across his whole face, crawling across his noticeably pale complexion with a scuttling motion.

And then, in the blink of an eye, time reasserted itself as the green flame engulfed his entire head with licks of emerald fire.

Strangely enough, and much to the almost spine-tingling shock of Jonathan, the flames washed over him almost like the gentle tug of the tide at the seaside, the heat vanishing almost instantly to be replaced by the most peculiar cold, fuzzy sensation that Jonathan had ever felt, like the stuffing on the inside of a particularly tacky toy bear. His vision consisted of the most radiant greens, dancing and twinkling around him like a ballet, winking and spitting but never grazing his eyes or his face, instead seemingly slinking around them as if they feared to touch the human, as if fire itself refused to taint itself. Dimly, Jonathan thought he could feel his hair curling and smouldering atop his head, feeling the black lengths wilt and slowly crisp along with his eyelashes, a faint smell of burning just reaching his nostrils before it was wafted away swiftly. The flames washed over him for what felt like minutes on end, colours spiralling, heat intoxicatedly spreading over him, smell plaguing his nose and then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the torrent of fire was switched off as id by magic, an empty, almost lonely sensation filling the space where it had once been.

Jonathan blinked rapidly as the fire vanished, swaying on the spot slightly as he reached a hand up to massage his partially watering eyes, a little groan of confusion escaping his lips as he rubbed his knuckles into his golden orbs, barely paying any attention to what sounded like angered murmuring occurring right in front of him. His eyes continued to sting and weep, the sight and supposed 'heat' of the fire that had once consumed him causing his pools of gold to flood like a broken dam. Slowly, one hand still fruitlessly scrubbing at his eyes as if they contained dirt, Jonathan lifted a hand up to inspect his hair, noting how dry and frail it seemed to feel now and how, if he rubbed his fingers in it, a faint smoky powder seemed to immediately latch onto his fingers. Jonathan attempted to open his eyes to look at whatever substance lay on his fingertips but was forced to shut them again a few seconds later as the last traces of blinding, strobing lights that had seemed to stick around ever since the end of the fire returned with a vengeance, making the human growl in annoyance just as the sound of an approaching pony rung in his ears, the gentle two beat sound of hooves on wood reaching him.

Wait, two beat?

A male voice reached his ears, childish but most definitely masculine, a sound that made Jonathan conceal a happy grin. It wasn't that he was sexist towards the mare, or mares, that had taken him into their home town but every guy would need another guy to keep him company in the turmoil of a life that seemed to be filled by women and the relief Jonathan felt at hearing the sound of another male in a heavily female populated town was enormous.

“Eh, s-sorry about that. I didn't t-think to aim away from the door.”

Jonathan smiled slightly as he lifted his hands away from his eyes, vision returning. Though he hadn't failed to notice the slightly feared tremor in the voice, he was absolutely sure that once this guy got to know him, they'd be fast friends. Perhaps Jonathan was being a little bit optimistic however.

“Don't worry about it, I'm sure it was an acci-”

Jonathan blinked slowly as he looked down at the library floor. Astonishment flooded his senses as he gazed on what could be one thing and one thing alone. Barney The Purple Dinosaur was standing on the ground in front of him.

And he was tiny.

Timidly, Jonathan spoke again in what could only be described as an awed whisper.

“...Barney?”

Barney the Dinosaur snorted in bafflement, eyes widening slightly as he shook his head from side to side, voice rising up again, this time without the shaky stops.

“I'm not Barney, my name's Spike.”

Jonathan blinked once more, tongue lolling out of his mouth to lick his lips in, not nervousness exactly, but deeper confusion.

“Do...do you know Barney, Mr Spike the Dinosaur?”

Spike the Dinosaur frowned, his head shaking again as his voice came out hesitantly, not scared any more but wary towards why this hairless monkey seemed to think he would know this Barney guy.

“No, I don't. I'm not a...dinesur anyway, I'm a dragon!”

Jonathan once more blinked in confusion, a habit that was growing increasingly common for him as he muttered under his breath, the little dragon barely picking up on what he said before the human cleared his throat.

“Everything we know about Barney is wrong...So...Barn-Spike...eh, you're a...dragon?”

Spike nodded once more slowly, eyes glazed over with such clear, untempered bafflement and small, almost squeaky voice heavily thickened by abnormally reserved quietness.

“Yeah, I'm a dragon from my talons to my spines.”

Jonathan took the time to admire said bodily appendages and the creature in front of him as a whole. The little dragon, Spike, was a deep, glimmering purple colour that sparkled and twinkled from his scales, making Jonathan wince his still sore eyes. A small dappling of green also coated parts of the child-esque dragon, his stomach and the underside of his tail, along with what appeared to be spines that lined his back were all smeared with a leafy, natural green colour. His eyes, though still glazed, were an unsettling green colour also, piercing Jonathan even through the veil of confusion that the young dragon was maintaining fluently. Much to Jonathan's surprise, though it was a pleasant surprise, Spike seemed to have what appeared to resemble fingers on his hands and small, stubby and pointy looking toes on his feet, claws and talons that closely mimicked the appendages which humans had adopted so long ago. The most noticeable feature however, was the small pointy teeth that could just be seen protruding from his mouth like stalactites, looking both deadly and shockingly adorable at the same time.

“Uh, dude, you mind not staring so much?”

Jonathan blinked in bewilderment, immediately shattering what must have been an intense gaze which he had held upon the tiny dragon. Jonathan allowed a sheepish grin and a light blush to blemish his features as he awkwardly shuffled on the spot, the awe and shock that came with meeting a real life dragon coming a close second place in his emotional marathon to the nearly crippling embarrassment he was feeling at what the dragon obviously thought was him checking the little guy out.

“I, ah, sorry. It's just...”

Spike sighed in exasperation, his spines atop his head visibly wilting in sadness, the sight nearly making Jonathan bark out a laugh.

“You've never seen a dragon before? Yeah, I got that a lot here...”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jonathan heard a dark, sadistic laugh echo at the young creatures misery but he soon squashed the sound out and, much to his own amazement, kneeled down to face the dragon, hand coming up to rest on the scaly shoulder which felt unexpectedly warm, Spike flinching at the motion for a second before his eyes met Jonathan's, green crossing gold and red in an understanding expression.

“Look at me Spike, I reckon over the last few days I've managed to get a few curious glances thrown my way but it doesn't matter because y-y-y-you're worthless a-a-and you're obviously a very diverse creature, full of wonder and magic and-a-a-a-a-anger, hate, burning fire that would torch the land, that w-w-w-w-would spread kindness to all around you.”

Once more, for what must have been the hundredth time that day, Spike adopted the look of stark confusion, mind clashing between the ideas of whether or not that had been a compliment. One moment the strange bipedal creature that Twilight had been constantly talking about had seemed caring and compassionate with a voice as soft as Rarity's mane and the next second his voice had changed, had become hard and desolately cold, barren of emotion and then, in the blink of an eye it had gone, reappeared and then gone again. Perhaps this was the norm for these creatures, “Humanes” Twilight had called them but something in that drastic voice change, something in that almost jagged, twisting feeling of malice that had filled the air seemed to suggest something different to Spike and so, with puzzlement in his heart, Spike asked the question which a solar deity and six of the most powerful mares in all of Equestria had been dying to ask the human since they had first met him.

“Are you normal?”

Jonathan blinked, his golden eyes vanishing and then reappearing quickly.

“What?”

Spike hesitated a moment before he decided that the damage had already been done and his hole had already been dug, therefore, the only logical next step was too see what could have been a disastrous mistake through to its end and so, whilst mentally preparing himself for the full force of a brutal, bloodthirsty attack by the alien before him, Spike asked his question again.

“For your species, are you normal? Do you fit the mu-the mou-the muld-”

“The mould?”

Spike nodded at Jonathan's answer.

“Yeah, the mould! Do you fit the mould?”

Jonathan rocked backwards on his knees, his hand now falling limply from Spike's shoulder as he spoke up in a hushed, timid voice.

“What...what would make you think I'm not normal?”

“Well, and please don't take this badly and hurt me with all of your alien might, but you seemed to stutter a lot and then you said some rud-”

“Wait, what?”

“You, ah, stuttered.”

“What...what did I say?”

“Umm, some stuff about fire and burning and me being worthless. I mean, those are, like, compliments to your species right?”

Jonathan felt sick, sick, sick to his very stomach, the light felt bright, way too bright, the air felt too constricting, too close and invading. The smell of bile and blood filled his nostrils, not from outside but from within as he choked out a simple word.

“Y-yeah.”

Spike frowned, noting the pale complexion and green tinges that coloured Jonathan's cheeks.

“Uh, are you alright? You look a little sic-”

“Spike, what did you do to him!?”

The little dragon bolted into the air at speeds which would surely have shattered the sound barrier had they gone on for a few more seconds, his little infantile head swivelling swiftly to stare at the purple unicorn who was now standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a look of aggravation on her face which was severely ruined by the smattering of oat crumbs which surrounded her mouth. However, at this precise moment in time, Spike realized that any sign of mirth at this point would result in a rather messy conclusion, probably filled with some form of horrible Twilight-esque punishment and for that simple reason alone the minuscule drake shrunk into himself and feebly pointed at the ill looking Jonathan, his voice squeaking out in fear.

“N-nothing Twilight, I just asked him if...he...was...normal,” Spike swivelled his head to face the pale face of Jonathan, guilt splayed across his features like a sunbathing cat, “Oh Celestia, I didn't upset you did I? I'm so, so sorry!”

Jonathan grunted in a small sign that he had heard the dragon, his thoughts currently trying to process what the dragon had said to him, desperately searching for the exact words he had said to the young drake, exhaustingly looking for the blank spaces that registered in his memory from only a few moments ago. And yet they did not return, those words that had left his mouth refused to come back to him now that they had escaped his lips. What horrors could Discord make him spout, what horrible, monstrous lies could the demon make him say and then, and then not remember!? It was terrifying, absolutely terrifying knowing that your voice is no longer your own any more, that even your memory is turning against you and Jonathan shivered from the fright and the fear and the uncertainty. Jonathan closed his eyes and took a deep, if somewhat broken breath, before he reopened his eyes, the glitter of gold now hardened and determined as he banished those feared thoughts from his mind, a task he had been handed time and time again.

The sound of arguing, very one sided arguing that it was, reached his ears as Jonathan lifted his head up and stretched his knees so that he was now standing, his head immediately turning to find the source of the noise which just so happened to be an angry looking purple unicorn and a rather chastised but irritated looking dragon. Twilight's entire face seemed to have taken on an ugly, blotch red colour from her anger whilst Spike's was a similar red colour that painted his cheeks, a flush of embarrassment and aggravation. Jonathan's eyes locked onto the purple dragon instantly and, with a slight flicker of hopelessly frightened eyes, Spike beckoned Jonathan to save him from this horrid fate.

“And another thing, you can't just ask whether or not somepo-someone is normal, it might hurt their feelings! What were you thinki-”

Jonathan coughed rather noisily, clearing his throat and bringing his hand to his mouth as Twilight's head bolted around to face him with the same penetrating, manic look that she had been captivating Spike with before her expression cleared like dispersing clouds and her face adopted a softer look as Jonathan spoke up in a hesitant voice, noting the Spike's sigh of relief out of the corner of his eye, the little drake clutching at his chest in reprieve.

“I don't mind Twilight really, I just feel a little...sickly. I guess I'm still not entirely better from the fall.”

Twilight's expression softened further, half of Jonathan wishing to simply belt out a loud d'aww at how adorable she looked and the other half of him suppressing feelings of sickness and bile that weren't truly his own, a diseased choking sound issuing through his mind as Twilight spoke up in a quiet voice, as if she were afraid she might spook him if she spoke up too loudly.

“That's fine Jonathan. I'm sorry I left you alone with Spike,” Twilight shot the reptile a glare which made him shrunk into himself again, “but I haven't eaten an awful lot since Rarity, and you, went into the hospital. I was just so worried.”

Jonathan smiled, opening his mouth to reply before a slight tug at his wrist made him jump and swing his head downwards to stare straight into the face of Spike who had managed to move silently and swiftly from his place beside Twilight without Jonathan knowing, his little face full of guilt and regret, a few tears sparkling in his eyes as he spoke up.

“I'm really sorry Mr Alien, I didn't mean to be rude.”

Jonathan recovered from his fright easily as he spoke down to Spike in a accepting tone.

“That's alright Spike, you weren't trying to be rude.”

The tiny drake heaved a sigh of relaxation, all of the guilt and regret leaving his face in an instant, the tears vanishing mysteriously as if they had never been there as he began to waddle away, his head turned back to Jonathan as he trudged through an open doorway.

“Cool, see ya around.”

Jonathan turned to Twilight deliberately with a singular eyebrow raised as he spoke up in a quizzical voice.

“What was that?”

Twilight's whole face had once more resorted back to its red colour as she seethed in anger, her teeth grinding together loudly before she spoke up in a voice that sounded strained.

“That was Spike apologizing, badly.”

Jonathan waited for Twilight to speak up again, to welcome him to her home but she remained staring angrily at the doorway that Spike had disappeared through moments ago, seconds ticking by languidly before Jonathan coughed and drew Twilight's attention back to him, the purple mares ears twitching at the sound as she turned back to him, a light blush of embarrassment over her silence painting her face as she began to speak.

“Sorry for falling off of the conversational plain there. Anyway, I expect you want to have a look around your new home, don't you?”

“No, the thought never crossed my mind.”

Twilight blinked and took an automatic step back as the sarcasm and hatred behind that voice hit her full force, Jonathan's face moulding into a malice filled, almost insane expression before it shifted back into its normal, fluid look as he spoke up again in the voice she had come to recognize for the human.

“I'd love to Twilight.”

Twilight shifted slightly, obviously confused but allowing the speech switch to slip from her mind for the time being, mentally making a note to jot the incident down on her letter to Princess Celestia later this evening before she immediately plunged into her tour-guide mode.

“Well, where we are at the moment is the living room and the main body of the library. You can take your time to admire the collection of books, arranged in alphabetic and genre related order of course.”

Finally, after what had felt like hours of constant talk between himself, Spike and Twilight, Jonathan allowed himself to glance around his new home more keenly, taking in all of its features in quiet awe.

In the centre of the sunlit yellow flickering room there rose a great wooden horses head, extending from a circular wooden table that was littered with multicoloured books. Small vines snaked down from the ceiling and crawled down the wall like great, green snakes, choking the wooden walls. The rough, swirling barked floor twirled round and round in great ringed circles, indicating that the tree had been perhaps three hundred years old when it had been carved out and formed into the house that it was now. The walls themselves were a browny orange colour that seemed to mix together like paint swilling around a pallet, the resulting colour creating a beautiful shade of colour that brought much needed light to the interior of the house. Ladders lay perched on the walls, wooden poles tied loosely together with fraying, brown string that looked like they would crumble after their next use. Darkened windows lined high above the spiralling tower of hollow wood, metallic black lines criss-crossing their lengths like a spiders web. That however, was not what had amazed and astounded Jonathan.

The whole area was littered with great spectrum coloured books. Hardbacks and paperbacks lay strewn across the floor and in the nooks and crannies of the great bookcases that spiralled around the library. At least three hundred hues of books cluttered the library, spilling out from shelves in great bursts of papered knowledge. There was so many classifications, history, science, fiction, non-fiction, storybooks, horror, adventure, action and romance alone decorated only one fourth of the whole area. Tomes of old lay on great wooden displays, locked by glass cabinets to signify their importance. A single staircase snaked upwards from the floor, curling around the wall of the library to reach what appeared to be a landing which held a rather large, rather heavy looking bookcase piled with books. A midnight blue and night sky decorated bed sat on the orange floor of the landing, pristine white pillows laying on its complexion as sunlight from the yellow curtained window on the wall seeped into the room and onto the bed. A painting of the same etching of the sun mark that decorated Celestia's flank was scribed into the wood above the bed, along with a much smaller moon and stars picture underneath it.

Jonathan stopped his numinous gazing around the room when he felt a light poke in his side, his head swivelling down to meet the expectant face of Twilight's, purple eyes glimmering with barely concealed excitement as she piped up in a voice that was high with anticipation.

“Do you want to see your room?”

Jonathan couldn't restrain a broad smile from breaking out over his face, both at the cuteness that Twilight was displaying for him and also for the sheer, unbridled fact that she had taken the time and the energy to make him up a room instead of just pulling out a mattress and plopping it on the floor like so many of his old friends used to do. The memory of his friends made Jonathan's smile waver slightly but his voice remained steady as he replied.

“That'd be great Twilight.”

Twilight visibly bounced up the staircase to her right, an eager smile plastered on her face as she shot occasional glances at the human who was following behind her, his eyes resting on every shred of detail, from the colourful plants littering the room to the vast array of books littering the floor around what was obviously Twilight's bed. When Jonathan had stopped for a little over five seconds to inspect what appeared to be a small basket on the floor beside Twilight's bed, the enthusiastic but irritated unicorn had made a covetous noise that resembled a growling bear and had proceeded to trot her way back over to Jonathan, position herself behind his still pondering form, crane her neck upwards and poke him with considerable might in his butt, making Jonathan jump and immediately dash forward, the lavender unicorn following with a happy smile as Jonathan rubbed his bottom and glared at her. With the imminent threat of Twilight's horn poking, Jonathan no longer felt it safe to stop to admire the room and so meekly followed Twilight as she led him to a small wooden door in the back of her bedroom wall, her horn lighting up as she grabbed the handle with a purple aura, the door screaming out in terror as it was yanked open and sunlight was allowed to flood it.

Jonathan peeked his head in, only to discover another long staircase that wound upwards, nearly completely concealed in darkness before Twilight trotted forward, her horn glowing purple and vanquishing the shadowed zone, the little pony trotting calmly up the stairs, followed by a quizzical looking Jonathan. After an intensive game of 'count how many stairs there are', the duo reached the top, another wooden door greeting them which Twilight opened with a flick of her magic, the pair walking in one after the other as Jonathan got a look at his room for the very first time.

Thought the entire room was bathed in darkness, Jonathan could still easily see that the walls remained the same orangey brown colour, apart from the areas that held a few scarce paintings of what appeared to be astronomical signs and bodies. A large window, smothered by a sanguine red curtain, sat quite snugly on the far wall, blocking out the light to the room effectively and methodically. A large bed with fluffy white pillowed and a blood red sheet sat in the direct centre of the room, a small cabinet resting beside it topped with a few books, a small lamp and what appeared to be a quill. On the right side of the window sat a balcony which was carpeted by similar curtains, the faint silhouette of something large and relatively cylindrical casting a larger shadow onto the room. Discarded pieces of paper, quills and books lay scattered around the walls of the room, the centre remaining remarkably clean whilst the exterior of the room seemed to have fallen into disrepair. Pieces of what appeared to be telescopes lay littered around the room as well, along with some actual telescopes which ranged from tiny ones to large ones that nearly grazed the roof of the room.

With a light flicker of magic, the lamp in the middle of the room flared to life, making Jonathan wince somewhat as the darkness vanished, Twilight trotting into the centre of the room, eyes lingering uncertainly on the junk and misplaced items on the floor before her purple orbs returned to Jonathan's eyes, full of doubt but also small traces of excitement.

“It used to be my old astronomy room. I know it's not perfect and that it's kinda dirty, but what do you think?”

Jonathan pretended to ponder over the question, part of him enjoying the way Twilight fidgeted and shot him nervous looks, his darker side revelling in the feeling that she was being so emotionally vulnerable around him, egging him on to shoot her down and make her cry because it would be funny, so hilariously, superbly, insanely funny.

“It's brilliant Twilight, thank you.”

The nagging, pestering, vicious voice receded into his mind as the lavender filly beamed happily, happiness sparkling in her eyes. It had obviously been the answer the filly was looking for and the slight quiver of joy that made her legs shiver somewhat brought s grin to Jonathan's face and a quiet chuckle out from under his lips.

“Oh it was nothing. Now, do you want anything to eat from the kitchen?”

Jonathan opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by his stomach exploding into action with a loud rumbling sound which made his cheeks flush and made Twilight burst into silly little giggles. With the obvious question answered for him by none other than his betraying body, Jonathan proceeded to drive the point home by nodding eagerly before Twilight spoke up.

“I'll get Spike to fix you up some vegetable stew then. Just stay here and relax for a little while, read maybe,” she gestured towards the pile of books, “Celestia knows you need some time to relax and recuperate.”

Jonathan smiled at her, dipping his head to show that he understand and was fully behind both the idea of vegetable stew and a chance to recuperate, even if he had been in the hospital for a few days. The time spent there was not one for much relaxation and relief, instead it had constantly left him horribly bored and desperately seeking a sanctity for his wandering mind to lock onto instead of dwelling on the oppressive, terrifying thoughts that seemed to occupy his life nowadays. Jonathan paced around his room, touching the walls, the dust, the various instruments and books as Twilight exited the room, her vibrant tail disappearing down the dark staircase before a blinding flash of purple light illuminated outwards, bathing Jonathan's room in a lavender glow. Jonathan cast his eyes to the staircase once more before he turned away and bent over to pick up what seemed to be the body of a small telescope, flinching and tossing the thing far, far away as a lone spider crawled over it, hearing the metal clatter against the floor and wishing that Twilight hadn't heard. When no sound of approach was heard, Jonathan went back to inspecting his room, now steering clear of the arachnid infested telescope junkyard.

With a hesitant touch, Jonathan ran his fingers down the sanguine curtain separating him from the light outside, feeling it sink and caress into his skin, a small civilization of dust rising up from its depths, making the human blast out a sneeze and back away from the curtain, already content with the warm, hopeful flickering light cast by the lantern. Jonathan slowly approached his bed, eyes locking onto the cabinet that lay beside it as he reached forward to grasp the one of the three books that sat snugly on its surface, hugging the wooden box with paper pages. Jonathan picked up the top one, a chunky, red covered book with the image of dual mares with wings and horns on the front, the font carefully crafted and titled 'Ancient Equestrian History: Volume 1'. With a light flick of his fingers, Jonathan skimmed through the book, gazing as the pages whizzed by him in the blink of an eye, almost instantly noting the lack of images in the book and how it seemed to be pretty heavy reading, something he wasn't entirely accustomed to. He put it down next to the other books and picked up the next, a yellow tome with cracking pages titled 'Ponyville Through The Ages'. This book had no clear illustration on the front, what appeared to be copious amounts of dark brown dust coating its surface and hiding the image from view but, like before, with a flick of his fingers, Jonathan shuffled through the book and noted the vast array of colourful pictures, smiling to himself before he put it down and picked up the next book.

This book was undeniably strange and, as soon as Jonathan touched it with his fingertips, a small bolt of lightning seemed to arc from him into it, shocking Jonathan's hand and making him recoil slightly before he frowned and picked it up. The cover was black as night, with curved golden writing spiralling across the top, flicking and twisting almost maliciously as Jonathan read the title, 'The Monsters Behind The Fairytale'. Jonathan flicked through the book similarly, noting the dark pictures that greeted him, all evil looking, twisted, malformed, vicious, blood red or deep dark. Jonathan continued to flick through the book until his hand rested on a single page that had caught his eyes due to the splash of colour and the horrifying memory that the picture had brought to him. Brown body, lion and eagle talons, twisted horns, a pony head, bleached bone beard, bat and pegasi wings, dragon and goat legs and a long, malicious red tail that snaked across the page, the image of Discord stared at Jonathan from the pages of the book.

He slammed the book shut with a loud thud, causing dust to be expelled from the pages, rising into the air around him as Jonathan held the front cover down firm, breathing hard and staring intently at the book. Underneath his fingers, there seemed to be some sort of indent in the book, some shape rising from the thick cover just barely, less than a millimetre tall. With a light gulp, Jonathan has hands over the front cover of the book before he froze in fear as his hand crossed to the other side, exposing the front and the illustration that lay naked to the air. The face of Discord, God of Chaos, Image of Evil, the Legendary Trickster sat upon the front cover where there had once been nothing and just for a hint of a second, Jonathan swore it was looking directly at him.

And then the picture of Discord narrowed its eyes and smirked victoriously.

Jonathan shrieked as the picture moved, immediately throwing the book away, watching it soar across the room and smash into the opposite wall with a thud, sliding down and landing in the pile of telescope remains with a clatter. Silence descended upon the room as Jonathan stared ferociously at where the book had disappeared, worried, nervous and scared but still determined to hold his ground if anything else happened, if the book tried to return to him. After seconds and minutes that ticked by like hours and days, Jonathan turned away from the wall and began to back slowly towards his bed, legs quivering as the absolute silence choked the life out of the once happy, joyous and warm room. He tripped backwards, arms pin-wheeling before he landed on his bed, sinking into the sheets and immediately thinking about how soft they felt, how warm they felt and how desperately tired he was. He was so sleepy, so very sleepy after all and he needed his rest. There was a perfectly good bed right here, just for him and he would be damned if he didn't use it. It was so warm, so comfortable and so soft, so very, very soft that Jonathan's eyes began to droop and close, his thoughts began to become muddled and distant, his mind drifting away from the book and the horrors that had greeted him.

With a loud yawn, Jonathan stretched his arms and scratched the top of his head, feeling small bumps in his scalp before he drew his hands away and rested them on the bed, legs swinging up so that he laid fully across the silky smooth surface, not even bothering to snuggle under the duvets as his head slammed into the pillow. Somewhere inside of him, a tiny voice screamed at him to run, to get up, walk around, to wake up and to never, ever sleep again but he ignored it because it was so warm and so comfortable and so, so soft. His eyes folded shut, his breathing slowed, his chest rose and fell and a single, lone thought wormed its way into his head before he collapsed into the bed completely.

'Horns', he thought, 'the bumps are horns.'

Jonathan's snores reached the lavender unicorn just as she trotted into his room with a tray balanced carefully on her back, a small smile gracing her features as she beheld the slumbering form of the giant human laying in his bed, exhausted but relaxing. With a light sigh, she turned back around and began to trot down the stairs, noting the smell of the soup and how the duty of soup-devourer had fallen to her.

'There's still a letter to write to the princess and I can't waste even a single moment' she thought to herself as she trotted from view.

If she had waited a moment longer she would have heard the moan of fear and the muffled, timid, broken voice of Jonathan mumbling from his sleep.

“Help...me...”

[.]

Dear Princess Celestia

The human Jonathan has now settled into the house, he's upstairs sleeping as I write this to you actually. Now, you asked me to write down anything suspicious about him and there were a few...quirks he showed today that I think you should know about, so here goes.

He demeaned Spike. I spoke to Spike today, whilst I was making vegetable soup and apparently Jonathan had called him worthless and there was something else about fire. I told him that he shouldn't have taken that, that he should have asked for an apology but he shrugged it off and said that it was an ancient alien custom that Jonathan had told him about, mocking each other was his form of a welcome apparently. I don't believe a word of it and...there was something else about this incident as well. He stuttered, just like back at the hospital in Canterlot and according to Spike his voice changed, became more aggressive and deep.

And then today, there was a moment where he looked at me like I was filth, when he spoke to me like I was a buzzing, pestering parasprite and it scared me princess, it scared me. And then, just as quickly, he was back to normal.

I don't know what's going on, I don't know what Jonathan is going through but I can tell you that you were right, that this human is suspicious and there is a mystery around him that is threatening to draw me in. I trust you to figure out the truth though, you are my mentor after all!

So, with best wishes and kindest regards

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

[.]

She had read it three, four, five times now and it had done nothing to alleviate her growing sense of apprehension and fear. Something was going on at Ponyville, something was going on in Equestria and Celestia knew, she just knew that it revolved around the human.

She had been expecting a reaction from the human when she had asked Twilight to slip a copy of 'The Monsters Behind The Fairytale' into the other books that she had lent the human but she had been surprise when there had been no mention of it in the letter. Perhaps this human was simply misunderstood, perhaps he wasn't lying, perhaps he was merely being his usual self. Or perhaps he wasn't, Celestia did not wish to be sorry in the future so she would play it safe for now. She would play it safe until the human showed his true colours and then she would swoop in and either apologise for her behaviour and her suspicion or she would make sure he couldn't hurt her ponies, no matter what.

If the time came and the human was a threat then she would destroy him, she knew that. She would destroy him and scatter his ashes across Equestria because whatever was wrong with him, whatever infection seeped through his veins, it was one that harmony could never, ever fix.

It was one that would destroy Equestria like a plague.

And she would not let that happen.

Silently, Celestia turned from her desk and trotted over to her bookcase, sliding out her own copy of a very rare, very informative book titled 'The Monsters Behind The Fairytale' and flicked the page to the panel about Discord.

She would be ready for him.

She would be ready to fight him.

She would be ready to do whatever it would take to stop him.

A/N: Took me long enough, eh?

I am truly sorry for the time taken to get this out but I've been on holiday and school started again and bleh, it was a hectic time. But here it is, the filler before the next few chapters that will revolve around the Mane 6 and Jonathan, along with a smidgeon of spooky and scared Celestia. I hope no one notices what I've done in this chapter though, Oh I feel like a criminal.

The next chapter may take a while before it comes out since I will be finishing my Doctor Whooves story first so be prepared for a bit of a wait, again. I promise I'll make it up to you all, heck, I'll even treat you to ice cream. How does that sound, because I think it sounds delicious!

Anyway, enjoy the chapter and tell me what you think.

Six Day Plan

“Breakfast is ready!”

Jonathan groggily rolled over in his relatively small bed, feeling the wooden bedside table slap into his face as he toppled to far, his senses suddenly bolting awake in fear as he perched precariously on the edge of the bed, managing to pull himself back in before he fell onto the dusty, wooden floor. Jonathan moaned to himself as he breathed deeply under the warm covers of the bed, his hands rubbing at his eyes to clear the sleep before he dazedly turned his head to the lavender mare standing in the centre of his doorway, looking a tad sheepish and embarrassed with herself, a faint blush painting her cheeks. Twilight cleared her throat loudly as Jonathan tousled his hair before he let out a light yawn.

“Uh, sorry for waking you but breakfast is ready.”

Jonathan mumbled something that sounded vaguely like 'I'll be down in a minute', prompting Twilight to duck her head and back out of the door as Jonathan sat up and stretched his arms, the covers billowing around him. As far as he could remember, his sleep had been peaceful and undisturbed but, sadly, his memory was not Jonathan's most trustworthy aspect at the moment and so Jonathan took a few seconds to run through his head and see if he could bring anything hidden to the forefront of his mind.

When nothing sprang to him, Jonathan cracked his back loudly, let out an exhale of air and rose out of his bed, waddling to where he had carelessly deposited his toga the night before after he had woken up drenched in hot sweats in the middle of the night, his toga insulating him cruelly. Jonathan sniffed the would-be dress disdainfully before he recoiled in horror at the stench, eyes narrowing as he slipped it on with distaste, mentally berating himself on his own smell and vowing to get himself some new clothes and/or cleaning his prized yet stinking toga.

Jonathan trudged over to the door, slipping his arms in the holes as he nearly tripped over a piece of telescope, growling and cursing as it rang out loud and clear through his room, his foot aching where he had hit it. Jonathan wandered down the stairs quickly, blindly stumbling downwards before he emerged into Twilight's room, eyes unconsciously gazing over her belongings as he walked past.

Her bed was perfectly made, obviously indicating that she had got up early and had the time to remake her bed. The little cot, or basket, next to the bed was also immaculately made, the covers barely even crinkled. On the bedside of the lavender mare sat a book titled 'Creatures of Equus' and Jonathan couldn't contain a chuckle, his mind instantly speaking up and congratulating the little mare on trying to learn more about him and his people. His eyes caught a series of crinkled paper, searching upwards to locate the single message that was written on every one of them.

Dear Princess Celestia

The rest of the pages were completely blank, obviously waiting to be used and Jonathan mentally stored the information that Twilight sent Celestia letters, possibly daily, for later use. Just as Jonathan was about to turn away, another sheet of paper, this one hopelessly crinkled, caught his eye and he turned to gaze at it. It was partially concealed beneath a pile of books but Jonathan could just make out the beginning of it.

To my faithful student, Twilight Sparkle

Regarding Jonat-

The rest of the letter was hidden by a large red tome and, suspicious but also interested, Jonathan reached forward to pull the letter out of the stack of books...

..before the smell of Heaven itself reached his nose, making him instantly turn away to gaze with a numinous expression down the separate staircase leading to the library floor and the kitchen.

As Jonathan struggled to contain the water salivating in his mouth, his legs moved rapidly and swiftly for someone who had just woken up, all memory of the letter vanishing as his hunger kicked in viciously, his stomach roaring aloud like a lion. Jonathan grasped the barrier of the staircase and stomped down the stairs, his eyes wide and excited as he hit the bottom of the stairs with a loud thud, spinning around to the direction that Twilight had pointed the kitchen out at the night before, his feet slipping on the floor as Jonathan pushed off of the brown oak flooring too quickly.

Jonathan slid almost smoothly, almost suavely into the dining area of the library before a particularly vicious and malevolent book that had, of course, been lurking in wait upon the floor, caught the edge of his foot and caused Jonathan to yelp, stumble for a second and that impact quite beautifully with the floor, his arms coming up to cradle his head as Jonathan let out a moan of pain, the sound of a boyish laugh and a quiet intake of shock reaching Jonathan's ears.

Almost immediately Jonathan heard the stern voice of Twilight pipe up from somewhere above him as he shook his head and lifted himself up to his knees.

“Spike, don't laugh at him!”

Instantly the laughter stopped, only to be replaced by a half-hearted attempt at muffling the giggles before Twilight spoke up again, the clop of her hooves on the ground signifying that she had risen from her chair at what was most probably the kitchen table.

“Are you alright Jonathan?”

With a moan of partial pain but hefty embarrassment, Jonathan rose onto his feet, hand clutching his head as he mumbled his reply, head nodding up and down as he probed his probably bulging forehead with a dainty finger.

“M'fine.”

Twilight blinked as Spike erupted back into his laughing spree, little purple legs flailing in the air as he leaned backwards before his eyes bulged wildly as he tumbled backwards, falling off of his own chair with a light thunk, his eyes wide and surprised for a second before both he and Jonathan broke into raucous laughter, much to the confusion of Twilight who looked on with an expression that would describe a person at the zoo gazing curiously at a rather quirky animal. Eventually the apparently infectious laughter died down and Twilight spoke up again, motioning with her head for Jonathan to sit down at one of the wooden chairs.

“I didn't really know what...humans eat so I just made pancakes. They're like eggs with-”

“Pancakes? You...you have pancakes here?”

The look in Jonathan's eyes could be linked towards the predatory gaze that a lion might have once it had stumbled upon a rather plump looking gazelle, a sight that made the hairs on the back of Twilight's neck stand on end.

“Umm...yes, we do. I'm not sure if they're the same here as they are on Eart-”

Too late. The burning longing behind Jonathan's eyes reached a critical level, pink tongue coming out to lick his lips as he began to quietly mutter a mantra to himself, sending a chill down Twilight's spine at the creepy undertones of his voice.

“Pancakes, pancakes, pancakes, pancakes, pancakes.”

Twilight, unsure of what to do, simply smiled a crooked, warbled smile and trotted back to the kitchen to recover the sacred morsel, coming back into the room to be met with Jonathan already tucked underneath the table, his chair creaking slightly under his weight, a knife and fork already present in his hands somehow, a thought that worried her for a second before she shook her head and trotted over to Jonathan, plopping the pancakes down on the table with a little thud.

Jonathan had been moving his chair to the table, about to tuck his legs underneath the wooden furniture, his mind entirely preoccupied with the sweet smell of pancakes, having eaten only plain, bland, boring foods whilst he had stayed in the hospital, when it happened. He had looked for a knife and fork for a second and, having found none, sighed to himself, wishing he had the silver crockery on his being and then, as if by magic, they were in his hands, smooth and cold and metallic. A chilling whisper snaked through his mind, a midnight chuckle following it.

You can thank me later.

Jonathan was about to growl a reply, regardless of the fact that the youung drake was still in the room, cleaning up loose, lost books before a sudden burst of intense hunger and longing flooded his body and his thoughts focused entirely on pancakes, delicious pancakes, wonderful pancakes. He'd eat them all, he'd devour every single one, he'd feast until he...

“Burst.”

Spike turned around at the deep voice, the light flickering of menace which curved its tones making his little form shiver as he piped up in a childish voice.

“Uh, you say something Jonathan?”

Jonathan turned his golden eyes to Spike for a second, eyes which flashed with an unknown emotion for a fraction of that same second before he diverted his gaze back to the door where Twilight had disappeared into.

“No, nothing.”

Twilight reappeared, frowning for a moment before she placed the plate of pancakes down on the table, Jonathan's hands reaching over and grasping the cool surface of the porcelain plate as he yanked it hungrily, ferociously, viciously towards himself. He caught sight of Twilight grimacing as he did so, a small look of fear taking over her features as Jonathan snatched the plate, the porcelain grinding in a spine tingling manner against the wooden table. His fork stabbed downwards, the pivot point jolting to an abrupt stop as the three-pronged utensil dug deep into the flesh of the first meaty pancake, syrup spurting from its complexion like blood, butter sliding down its golden brown surface as it tried to escape the hunger of the golden eyed monster.

The pancake rose into the air, steam wafting from it in great billowing rolls of vapour, small trickles of syrup running off of its edge like water off of leaves. Twilight watched in horror as Jonathan's mouth opened, ripples of sharp, white teeth reflecting from his darkened maw before the whole pancake, easily the size of his hand, was crammed forcefully into his mouth, syrup dribbling from his lips and cheeks twitching with smashed layers of a pancake. When Pinkie Pie devoured cakes or confectioneries whole it was a relatively graceful act, without a single drop being displaced but what was unfurling before her, the chunks of pancakes falling from a chin soaked in syrup, was anything but perfect and Twilight had to turn away as her stomach heaved slightly, trying not to let Jonathan see the pale shade that had eclipsed her face.

Jonathan caught a glimpse of Twilight turning, shuddering and then leaving the room in a rather quick gait as he swallowed the pancake, stomach continually grumbling from blow the table. No sooner had he swallowed the first delicious, delectable morsel did he reach out for a second, his fork descending and withdrawing again like some possessed crane machine as yet another pancake slipped into Jonathan's mouth whole, sending another tidal wave of sugary liquid washing down his chin. Somewhere in Jonathan's mind he recognized that something wasn't quite right, that even if he were this hungry, it would never have left him to dispel table manners and wolf down food like a starved dog but he tossed that aside as the pancakes flavour exploded in his mouth, robbing him of thought as he let out a pleased moan.

The first pancake had been enough to set his roaring stomach to a partial rest. The second pancake had been enough to raze part of his hunger to the ground. The third pancake had been enough to make him feel full, his stomach now expanding somewhat. The fourth pancake was the finisher, having silenced his hunger and caused Jonathan's nose to wrinkle at the sweet source of nourishment that still rested on the plate before him, his stomach sated and his desire to eat pancakes thoroughly satisfied.

And so it came as a great surprise to Jonathan when, once again, his hand re-established its grip on the fork and plunged the silver trident deep into the heart of the fifth pancake. Jonathan's golden eyes widened considerably as the pancake, dripping with grease, moved up to his mouth which opened automatically as the snack drew closer. Jonathan tried to turn his head to the side, his mind now frantically panicking as his head refused to move and his arm refused to stop and his mouth refused to close. His chest rose and feel rapidly with his short, gasped breaths of alarm before the pancake was crammed, smashed, pulped into his mouth, juices once again flowing down his chin as crumbs of the morsel rained from his still open mouth. Jonathan went to spit it out, to gag and expel the food but that only seemed to make the whole process that he was enduring much more mortifying as the food remained glued to the inside of his mouth, making Jonathan cough in great, gagging heaps as he started to inhale deeply from his nose. With a choked noise Jonathan swallowed the pancake, clutching his throat as the unhealthy subsistence caught on the edges of his throat, his eyes sparking with tears as the food slipped down his throat and great, hauling breaths wracked his body.

Are you enjoying your meal Jonathan?

Jonathan whimpered once as the voice sounded in his head before he shook himself, sealing his now under control lips tight. The sound of laughter followed before that gravelly, malicious voice sounded again.

Come on, eat up. Twilight's little pet made all of these for you, you know!

Jonathan watched in horror as his arm raised again, stabbing into the sixth pancake which now sat cold on the plate, the syrup becoming more solid as his fork raised the meal to his tightly sealed mouth, Jonathan's eyes now bugged to nearly fill his head. His hand moved forward and Jonathan turned his head to the side like a child who no longer wanted to eat their helping of vegetables. The fork tried again and Jonathan turned his head in the other direction, sweat staining his shirt as he vaguely heard Spike and Twilight discussing something upstairs before his head was violently and savegly twisted forward again by some unknown force and his mouth was yanked open, pancake being stuffed deep, deep until it stroked his throat, making him gag as breathing became impossible.

Almost as if it had been kicked down his throat, the pancake fell to his stomach, allowing Jonathan to lean forward and choke and splutter, watering eyes now overspilling onto his cheeks and onto the plate of pancakes below him, three remaining.

Ready for another round champ?

“Nooo” Jonathan moaned, his stomach churning as his throat convulsed, head now resting on the table facing away from the pancakes, legs uncooperative as he tried to rise from his seat.

Then say please.

Jonathan blinked and shuddered once, the taste of both sickness and anger on his tongue before his body quivered.

“...No.”

One more chance.

His voice was darker now, the malicious joy now gone replaced only be a voice that seethed dread and still Jonathan shook his head weakly on the table.

“I'll...never...”

Fine by me.

Jonathan felt his body hoist itself from the surface of the table, his now full tummy shrieking in protest as vomit rose to his throat before he swallowed it down with a shudder. His arm moved, picking up its fallen utensil and stabbing it into the seventh pancake, its surface now cold and sickly looking, whilst Twilight and Spike continued to talk upstairs, the pitter patter of feet and the clopping of hooves signalling that they were in Twilight's room. He wanted to call out to them but how could he explain this? How could he tell them about Discord? How could he provide evidence for his sanity when even he had his doubts? And so he kept silent as the fork raised, slowly, heart-rendingly slowly and as his mouth opened with a jolt, forcing Jonathan's head bakcwards slightly. The smell wafted under his nose and that alone nearly made him retch and suddenly Jonathan felt that maybe he had made the wrong decision.

The fork drew closer and Jonathan panicked, panicked mentally and physically, straining every muscle in his body and screaming the foulest of profanities in his head, pushing everything into the simple act of stopping his own hand. His chair teetered, pushing backwards, his arm hovered in the air for a second, his mouth relaxed, his legs pricked with pins and needles...

...and then time seemed to reset itself as the fork darted forward, as his mouth widened and the cold, decrepit, decaying pancake was unwillingly forced into his mouth, the cold exterior getting caught on his tongue, on the roof of his mouth, on the back of his throat and Jonathan coughed and jolted and tried to spit it out, tried desperately as tears flooded his face, as vomit rose from his stomach, as his arms and legs and hands shook in a deranged manner.

Nothing.

Nothing followed by a whisper.

Say please.

And Jonathan, his stomach rocking with overladen food, his mouth crammed with a cold corpse of a snack, his eyes filled with tears practically shrieked the word.

“Please!”

It was garbled, having escaped through layers of half digested pancakes, but it was still understandable and, as the conversation and the movememnt above ceased in a sudden manner, all forces acting on Jonathan vanished and he slumped forward, slamming into the table and spitting, spewing, spluttering every trace of pancake out of his mouth, sending chunks of gooey mess over the table as his legs shook and his arms fell to his sides.

His stomach roared again and Jonathan groaned in abject nausea, rising up so fast from the table that he sent his chair tumbling onto the ground behind him with a clatter as he charged, steam rolled his way through the kitchen, past the small door on the right and kicked, yes kicked, the next small, white painted door which led to the first floor bathroom.

Upheaval. His stomach released itself, his insides emptied, his throat burned as Jonathan knelt over the small white toilet seat, tears of pain stinging his eyes as his stomach forcefully ejected more of his breakfast. And yet, no matter how much he dispelled, it still felt as if there was something much worse inside him, something that was making his stomach and his heart and his mind ill, even more so than the breakfast and it was not something that could be purged in such a way.

Laughter.

Well, that was quite fun wasn't it? Oh you, should have seen your face! It was simply perfect.

The chortle died out, replaced by a harsh whisper.

You will learn not to disobey me Jonathan or you will face the consequences.

And once more, as if there had never been that second of true, undiluted malice, the voice filled with a still malicious but seemingly juvenile tone spoke up again.

You understand now, right?

Jonathan's only reply was a groan as pain tore through his stomach, making him gasp as he slumped to the floor of the bathroom, narrowly missing plunging his head into the pile of his own breakfast that sat mockingly in the bowl of the toilet. His muscles were jelly, his whole being was in pain and numb at the same time, incapable of moving but entirely capable of feeling the aftershocks of his most recent bout with the monster Discord. Jonathan closed his eyes and lay feebly on the floor of the bathroom as Twilight Sparkle walked back into the dining room and gasped at the display before her.

Just when Jonathan was about to nod off, finding the floor of the bathroom rather cosy in his pained but immobile state, a rapid tapping on the door of the bathroom roused him, making him lift his head which cricked his neck, a wince creasing his eyes as a faint voice made itself known.

“Jonathan, are...are you in there?”

The human swallowed and went to move his body, finding himself shivering and weak like a newborn kitten.

“Y-yeah, I'm here Twilight.”

“Oh my Celestia, are you okay? There's bits of...of your breakfast all over the table and the chair is overturned and I thought something terrible had happened to you!”

'Something terrible has happened' Jonathan though to himself but when he opened his mouth the words were that of the liar and snake.

“Yeah, I'm fine Twilight. I just wasn't used to the sweetness of the food and it-it made me ill.”

There was a silence in which Jonathan prayed that Twilight didn't buy it, that she questioned him but he was instead greeted by a light sigh.

“I...suppose that might do it. Dietary conditions that are suddenly tossed aside by new food which is wreathed with lipids could lead to a rejection from the body. But, are you sure you're okay?”

Jonathan grimaced as he moved his body, voluntarily this time, and pulled the door open, his legs still shaking as he tried to hide his quaking body behind the door, only poking his ghastly pale head out which was ripped by a red smile flecked with bits of pancakes.

“Seriously Twilight, I'm fine. I feel a lot better now. Fit as a fiddle.”

His knees nearly buckled as he said it but Jonathan hid it behind the door, gathering himself. Twilight frowned, lines wrinkling her forehead.

“I was going to tell you something but Jonathan, you really don't look okay. Maybe you should go get some more sleep?”

“I'm fine Twilight.”

“You don't look fine.”

“I am fin-”

“No you aren't Jonathan!”

“I TOLD YOU I'M FINE!”

Jonathan recoiled at the sound of his own voice which bounced through the house, watching as Twilight bolted backwards in fright. His hands shook with anger, his own anger, not the monsters and Jonathan was suddenly afraid because that was his own anger, those were his own emotions scaring this little pony and not that monsters. This, the quaking ball of purple fur backing away from the door in terror, was all his own doing and Jonathan shuddered and sighed.

“I-I'm sorry Twilight. Maybe I'm not feeling that well. Maybe I should go to sleep for a while.”

Twilight gulped and stood a bit straighter but the quake of her body told Jonathan all that he needed to know about what she was feeling. Her reply was that of a barely neutral whisper.

“Maybe you should.”

Jonathan felt crestfallen and stupid, so stupid as he pulled the door open and walked sluggishly and awkwardly past Twilight, who shied away as he passed. Jonathan's eyes swam with sadness as he allowed the revelation that this time around there was nothing else to blame for this fear that he struck into Twilight but him, that there was no internal force plucking his strings and making him dance. Jonathan walked forward, into the dining room which had been neatly cleaned away by a gentleman like little dragon who was washing the plate in the sink in the kitchen which Jonathan had passed by moments before. The dragon hadn't looked at Jonathan but his rigid stance had said everything. He wasn't wanted and it was entirely his own fault.

Jonathan didn't know what it was that made him stop walking up the stairs to his room, he didn't know what it was that sparked his curiosity, he didn't know what force made him raise his voice to issue through the library but what he did know was that it was, once again, not the act of the demon residing in his mind.

“Twilight, what did you want to tell me?”

There was silence for a while, a deep, unsettling silence that rendered the once homely atmosphere null and void before the gentle clip-clopping of hooves dashed throughout the library as Twilight walked from the kitchen into Jonathan's view, looking less pale and more composed than she had moments before.

“It was, umm, about the next couple of days...”

It was obvious that she still wasn't sure about how to act now, it was obvious that she was still afraid of him and so Jonathan spoke again in a much quieter voice but one that was filled with emotion.

“I'm so sorry Twilight, I am. It's...been a tough couple of days and after that incident I just needed to get rid of some steam and I am sorry that you were the scapegoat. I truly am.”

Jonathan let his chin rest on his head as he stood sullen and still on the flight of stairs, eyes closed as he awaited Twilight's reply. That is, if he would get one? Maybe she'd just leave him alone? Maybe she'd just leave him here to stand and wait for her?

A light cough shattered Jonathan's morbidly depressing imagination as he looked up to be met with a shakily smiling Twilight Sparkle whose eyes gleamed with acceptance and just a trace amount of that still repressed fear that Jonathan had grown to know so well.

“I forgive you Jonathan. I can't imagine how hard it must be for you, not knowing how you got here, if you can go back home. If...if you ever need to talk, I'm right here okay?”

Jonathan smiled a similarly shaky smile, this grin splattered with flecks of happiness as the young unicorn accepted his apology. A clenching of his gut reminded Jonathan that he had been aiming to get some sleep as his eyes winced in pain but, again, that unknown curiosity appeared and Jonathan piped up just as Twilight turned to walk away, clearly having thought that the acceptance of the apology was the grand finale to the awkward little conversation that had just developed.

“Twilight, what...what's going to be happening over the next couple of days?”

Twilight turned her head, a look of surprise over her face before one of her front hooves came up to slam into her now annoyed complexion, causing Jonathan to jolt as the sound of the impact bolted around the library. A light mumble escaped Twilight, something about 'forgetting' before she spun around.

“Well, I've arranged for you to spend the next six days with my friends, and me, so that you can get closer to us and so that we can teach you a bit more about Equestria. Each day you'll spend some time with one of us, I think Applejack's first one the list actually. She'll probably make you buck apples, it's what sh-”

“Has Rarity agreed to this?”

Twilight seemed to freeze at that before she slumped down, eyes grazing across the room as if searching for an escape path.

“Uh, well, yes, of course she has.”

“Twilight-”

“I'm not lying!”

At that Jonathan raised an eyebrow, which fell rapidly as his stomach contracted again, sending waves of pressurized pain shooting through his abdomen.

“I never said you were...”

“Ehehehehehe, I guess you, ah, didn't, did you?”

Jonathan sighed.

“Look, Twilight. I'm fine with meeting Rarity but I...I don't want her to be scared. If she doesn't want to meet with me that's fine as well, I won't be hurt by it.”

Twilight seemed to shiver with anxiety as she spoke up in a whiny voice.

“But she does want to see you! She really does!”

“I'm not sure that's the truth Twilight. Don't you-dare-lie to me, if Rarity doesn't want to see me then don't force her into it.”

Twilight noted that Jonathan had put emphasis on the dare, the word seeming to derive from a voice that was not his own but she shook it off as her mouth opened to spew a retort.

“Jonathan, please, she really wants to speak to you, to make sure that there are no misunderstandings!”

“...Fine.”

Twilight sighed in relief.

“But if she hasn't been told about meeting me, if she doesn't want to meet me Twilight then I will be very, very cross-angry-with you.”

There it was again, that snap of a deeper, darker voice that ruptured the normal speech pattern that Jonathan had, that snap that had now drawn Twilight's attention as she mentally told herself to put that into her next letter to Princess Celestia.

“I promise you Jonathan that will not happen.”

Jonathan held his gaze with Twilight for a few more seconds, a more volatile and morbidly dark side of his mind soaking up the experience of watching the studious mare squirm in nervousness before he barked out a sigh, closing his eyes and turning his still wobbling legs back up the staircase, shooting out a sentence as he did so.

“Okay, I'll meet with each of your friends and I'll trust you. Please don't let me down.”

Jonathan heard Twilight's reply as he veered from her room up the stairs to his, offering a non-committal grunt in reply to her happy words.

“Thank you Jonathan! I'll tell all of the girls you agreed, they'll be super happy!”

His stomach pulled again as he walked back into his room, dumping himself down onto the bed and rolling over onto his back, letting out a minuscule groan as he did so. It had been little over an hour since Jonathan had first exited his bed and yet he was back again, his stomach now twisted with pain and his mind running in circuits around his head. Sleep seemed like an impossibility as pain twitched through his body, his thoughts racing with the recent news he had received.

A day. Alone. With each of Twilight's friends. It seemed like a nice sort of plan, immediately giving Jonathan the opportunity to make his impression on the ponies that Twilight had close to her heart but doubt fogged Jonathan's head as he thought about each mare in particular.

Applejack. She would be the first to know if he slipped up, she would be the first to look into his eyes and see something over than him in his head. She would be a problem but she was first on the list according to Twilight. He had to play it smooth around her, he couldn't let her get suspicious. If she got suspicious, she might tell somepony and then he may have to go back to Canterlot and what if Celestia, radiant Celestia, was disappointed in him. What would his punishment be for lying to a goddess? Would he be crucified? Would he be killed instantly? Locked up? Forced to endure unknown hours of torture for harbouring this beast? Would he be-

petrified?

Jonathan shook his head at that suggestion. An impossibility that had derived from his still weak mental state. Petrification. What a joke.

Fluttershy would be find around him, the timid little creature wouldn't try to pry into his life and she most probably wouldn't dare to look him in the face out of fear. The rainbow coloured one, Dash, may be a problem. She seemed...valiant and courageous and foolhardy. She was like polar opposites to him and that made her a problem but not an unreasonable one. He just had to act meek in front of her, act like a bug and then she would ignore him, grow bored of him and he would be free and most certainly, most exuberantly uncaught.

Pinkie Pie. A danger not to his discovery but to his sanity. She had seemed, to Jonathan, more mad than he was when he had first spoken to her, first met her. She was spasmodic and wild and uncontrollable. She was a variable that wouldn't stop changing. She was not somepony who he could fool or control. She would be a problem, a problem that wouldn't abide by any rules or regulations.

Kill.

Surprise. Jonathan shook his head again as the word permeated his mind, his eyes closed as he felt the familiar touch of the serpentine creature around his mind. He wouldn't kill her, he wouldn't control her or act in front of her. He would be himself, Jonathan, and hopefully that would work. If it didn't then-

Kill.

-he would just have to find another way to silence the young mare, another way to make her believe his wild lies and falsities.

Rarity would be...different. She was already suspicious, she was already wary of him and that was a thought that made Jonathan shiver in anxiety. He would have to show her that he wasn't evil or a creature to be feared, he would have to put on the most perfect act ever so that she would begin to trust him. Maybe if he-

Finish

-treated her like royalty then-

The

-she would trust him, like him a-

Job.

-little more, maybe she would stop fearing him. That could work, judging by her appearance, her accent and her fashion industry, treating her as if she were an upper-class pony may be his best shot at making sure he didn't alienate her further.

As if a switch had been flicked, Jonathan's mind began to shutdown.

Jonathan's eyes closed shut as his thoughts began to cool and freeze, the pains plaguing his body falling further away as a quaint numbness stole his form. A little voice dredged down from the recesses of his mind, pulling him into a slumber as Jonathan struggled for a second to not nod off, struggled for a second to put up a bit of a fight against that force that seemed to have him on a hook before the words of the demon passed through his mind again.

You will learn not to disobey me Jonathan or you will face the consequences.

And the urge to fight fled him as he remembered the ordeal that he had suffered, the pains that his body experienced, the helplessness that his mind had been subjected to. A crooning voice in the darkness washed over him.

Sleep tight, my little human. You have some big days ahead of you.

Without a word in edgewise, Jonathan allowed himself to be dragged back into slumber, where everything but pleasant dreams awaited him.

Author's Note

Well, I did it. I completely did it. After months of this story being on hiatus, I have officially restarted it.

Now, I had partially lost my way when I first began writing this chapter as I did not fully remember where I was leading this arc of the story. I also struggled to get myself back into the themes of this story so if anything feels off and at a contrast with previous chapters, please tell me so that I can correct it.

Also, I understand that this chapter was slow and I will be correcting all of that in the next few chapters, which will be a bit more fast-paced and a bit more exciting to read. I just needed to get this little section of the story out of the way.

Once again, enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.

As an added note, listening to the Spaghetti remix of “Lose Yourself” whilst writing this seemed to make writing the rather vile ordeal all the more fun. It also made me hungry. Really hungry.