Chapters 1 - Symbols of Patriotism
For six weeks, an unrelenting gray haze had blanketed the skies above Canterlot like a thick layer of concrete. The grace of both sun and moon had been blotted out almost entirely, leaving dreary days and nights so black, only the eyes of subterranean diamond dogs could bring anything into focus. The miasma was beyond the power of any but the most well-organized party of Cloudsdale weatherponies to clear up, though Princess Celestia knew no help would be coming from above.
The crown princess of Equestria, staring at the sky from her private balcony, wrapped a hoof around her shoulder and let a shiver run through her worn frame. It wasn’t cold out - if anything the air was sticky and heavy with cloying humidity. The only reason she knew the sun and moon still rose and fell at all was due to her own role in their respective journeys, but it was a comfort to know that light still shined somewhere. She wished only that each of the citizens in her charge were as empowered as she, and could rest peacefully with the same knowledge in their hearts.
As she gazed at the blighted afternoon sky, she thought again upon the denizens of Cloudsdale. It had been nearly two weeks since she’d received any communication at all from the city above the clouds, but this was not unexpected. The wall of cottony-steel that persistently blocked out each rainbow and every silver lining was proof enough that they had suffered the same fate as the rest of the nation to which they bore allegiance.
There was no more help coming. Not from any corner of Princess Celestia’s multi-millennial empire.
The sheer magical power possessed by Canterlot royalty was second only to that contained within the Elements of Harmony themselves, but all of it had one important Achilles’ Heel - using Griffonstone and the labyrinthine mines under the land as bases of operation, a united front of griffins, minotaurs, and diamond dogs had found that weakness, and they had exploited it.
From land, air, and beneath the ground, the invaders struck as a single front. Individually they had never before posed a threat to Equestria. However, united under a strong leader, their sheer numbers and stubborn relentlessness begat two new waves of soldiers to replace every one that magic drove out with bloody dispatch. Fully underestimating their opponents, the princesses of sun and moon stood beside the elemental keepers and expended their reserves of strength repelling what they felt represented a commitment of the enemy’s entire force to the field. To their horror, the ground and sky together vomited forth myriad additional regiments that the enemy had wisely kept in reserve, to encircle and overwhelm a foe that lacked both in strength of numbers and arcane power.
Princess Celestia shuddered at how it had all played out. The enemy’s victory had been orchestrated by a commander that felt nothing of purposefully sacrificing hundreds of his own people, simply to wear his opponent down. It was the worst kind of military barbarism - flesh shields composed of doomed grunts that had likely been filled with patriotic words and sent on their impossible errand with the promise that reinforcements would sweep in to back them. Instead, their commander waited for them to die - waited for his enemy to assume the battle had been won.
The real attack was filthy, disgusting, and thoroughly successful.
Princess Celestia ran her hoof along the length of her horn, feeling there the rubberized, secured sheath that had locked away her powers. It was a crude prison, lacking the elegance of the repression rings that her own citizens sometimes made use of in playful pursuits. At first, she had simply been too shocked to remove it. Now, she kept it in place merely because walking around in public without it could possibly cost some of her citizens their lives.
In the sky, she spied a small chink in the crack of the gray armor above. She stood silently at her balcony window, tracing the crack with her eyes to confirm that it had indeed grown larger since the day before. Beyond the crack glowed the sun, and therein she found hope. She could not see the face of her heavenly body, but she knew it wore an expression as grim as her own.
Drowning in a sea of gray, The Sun Princess knew there was only one choice left. One way to save her citizens. For her, it would be a small price to pay. Like the sun, she would endure, come what may.
A creaking noise from a chamber door she had long neglected to have repaired caused Celestia’s ears to swivel. A familiar, expected voice quickly followed it.
“Your Highness...” The voice breathed. “...it’s time. A-are you ready?”
Celestia allowed herself the luxury of a wry smile. She bowed her head, letting out a breath without turning around. “I wonder when you started calling me that again. I once told you not to stand on ceremony for me anymore-” Celestia finally turned towards her companion, “-Princess Twilight Sparkle.”
Twilight looked tired. Thick bags of deep purple had collected under her eyes, and though it had been days, Celestia thought the young sovereign still looked drained from lack of power. Nopony had expended more of herself trying to save her country, but Twilight seemed reserved now. The fire of righteousness was gone from her eyes, and she was watching her hooves on the posh carpeting with her head slightly bowed. The position showed off her own rubberized sheath, identical to Celestia’s, that surrounded her horn and rendered her power inert.
“I’m not...” Twilight stammered, refusing to meet her mentor’s gaze, “...I’m not a princess anymore.”
Princess Celestia tilted her head slightly, the constant wave of her pastel mane inclining like poured water to follow the movement. “Is that what you think?”
Twilight scrunched her muzzle in confusion, curiosity alone finally bringing her eyes up to meet Celestia’s. “Y-yes?” She hesitated, “We...we’ve been conquered. I tried, I...I just couldn’t...”
Celestia knew that look. She’d seen it in her pupil’s eyes ever since she took her as a student, every time Twilight was at her wits end. Unwilling to allow it to persist, Celestia walked slowly over to Twilight, reached out a hoof, and caressed her cheek, bringing her muzzle up to bear. She only smiled, allowing her student to speak first.
“Oh, oh Princess Celestia,” Twilight sniffed, “I tried so hard, b-but it must not have been enough, because--”
Celestia’s hoof came to rest upon Twilight’s lips, silencing her. “You did everything you could. I have told you this before, my student, but nopony can do everything by themselves. You must not attempt to shoulder the weight of this burden alone. Your friends will be there for you, in good times and in bad.”
“B-but what if they aren’t!?” Twilight blurted. “What if they end up in a dirty gem mine, or worse?”
Celestia shook her head. “That won’t happen. You were present at the negotiation table. You took part in the peace talks.”
Twilight pulled away. A moment later their original positions were reversed - Twilight was now near the balcony, staring at the war-streaked sky whose smog had yet to dissipate. “I...I know. The griffins don’t like living in Griffinstone any more than the dogs like always being underground, or the minotaurs spread out all over the place with no land to call their own.”
“They don’t want to destroy us,” Celestia continued the thought patiently, “They don’t hate our society. They envy it. Their leaders are wise - they know better than to simply enslave us all and burn our resources. If they did that, they would not only have to go back to the lands they don’t want to live in, but they’d have nothing to show for their conquest. And they would have to deal with a caste of slave ponies who, at any time, could plot to overthrow them. They respect us enough to know that we could yet be a threat in that capacity.”
Twilight nodded through the explanation to show her understanding. “They agreed not to disrupt out society, so long as we met their demands.”
Twilight could hear the tufting bump of hooves on carpet as her mentor covered the distance to stand behind her. Celestia spoke-
“They could have destroyed us, Twilight. Instead they have chosen to commute that sentence. In return, we are to disband our military, strike our banners, and remove any sense of patriotism from our society. They will live among us, under a new royal bloodline of their choosing, and we shall become a nation as much of their races as our own.”
There was silence for a time, interrupted only by the persistent ticking of an ornate grandfather clock down the hall. Celestia waited for the words to sink in before adding to them.
“My student, after such a bloody battle, animosity alone could have caused them to slaughter us wholesale, right down to our most vulnerable and innocent citizens. Instead, they have chosen to insert themselves at the top of our society and reap its benefits, but not otherwise alter it. I have lived for thousands of years. I have seen empires rise and fall-” She placed her hoof on Twilight’s shoulder, “-and I can tell you from experience that this is perhaps the most generous unconditional surrender I have ever borne witness to. If we were destined to lose, we could not have asked for a better outcome.”
Twilight held her tongue and made a point of turning her scowl away from her mentor. They were noble words, and perhaps Celestia was better than she for being able to acquiesce to them so easily, but Twilight could not so easily forget those who did not survive the battle.
Celestia seemed to detect her student’s feelings, despite Twilight’s attempt to conceal them. The hoof upon the smaller pony’s shoulder began to stroke affectionately.
“I am not happy about all this, if that’s what you believe,” Celestia explained, “But if anypony is to shoulder the blame for failing this nation, it is I. Thus...” She looked away, pausing to gather her next words, “...what is soon to happen is a small burden to bear.”
Twilight turned from the endless gray. She drew in a deep breath, let it out, puffed out her chest, and managed to put on a reassuring smile.
“I know. That’s why I agreed to it too.” Twilight smirked, “You need to rely on help from your friends, as much as you taught me to.”
Celestia sighed wanly, appreciating her student's candor. She wanted to endure alone what was to come on behalf of all those she cared for, but the new emperor had insisted all royalty share in it. The rulers of Equestria, as much as any standard or banner, were living embodiments of now-anachronistic Equestrian patriotism. Thus, an example had to be made.
Celestia’s expression clouded over. “...what news of my sister?”
Twilight shook her head apologetically. “No change. Nopony’s seen her since she fought off the group that tried to put her suppressor on and took off out a window.”
“Nobody,” Celestia corrected her student. “Say nobody now. Do not forget what we agreed to.”
“...nobody,” Twilight repeated mirthlessly. “Do we really have to consider Princess Luna an outlaw now?”
Celestia closed her eyes and managed a stiff nod. “I’m afraid so. While it pains me to say it, my sister’s...temper can not be allowed to undo the fragile peace we have given birth to in the wake of so much destruction.”
A light, ghostly rapping on the already open door sent the conversation into remission. Therein, at the threshold, stood a young earth pony mare who was still clad in the gilded, satin finery of a hoofmaiden to royalty. She had soft eyeglasses on the tip of her muzzle, and her sage green coat was dusted at the cheeks with dark freckles that matched her lagoon-emerald mane.
“Y-your High-”
Celestia cut the hoofmaiden off with a simple shake of her head. The youngster looked between her former rulers, took a breath, and put a firm edge into her words, attempting them again as she matched Celestia’s gaze-
“It is time. You will come with me.” She said to Celestia, and then nodded at Twilight, “You have been summoned to your place. Go there now.”
Twilight gave no reproach to the common pony who had so rudely addressed her. She only nodded with resignation and did as she was told, moving towards the door. She turned and opened her mouth to speak, found no words there, and simply trotted out, her retreating hooves clacking down the hall in obedience.
Celestia had already cast aside her crown, her golden slippers, and the gleaming badge of office that had adorned her neck for so long. The hoofmaiden hesitated, looking upon the princess as though seeing her for the first time. Though only scant items had been removed, the undisturbed cotton softness of Celestia’s coat seemed almost embarrassing to look upon as she bore it to the room.
The hoofmaiden spied Celestia’s free flowing, proud mane, and simply shook her head. With a clucking of her tongue she stepped over to the princess, and, without asking, made use of hoof and brush to tame Celestia’s locks. Ultimately the maiden braided them into submission and draped the resultant long queue along Celestia’s withers, arranging it to fall neatly between her wing spurs and down her back. Celestia’s tail came next, the maiden binding it tightest at its base.
The process took time. While she waited, Celestia stared blankly at herself in the mirror. She expected the sullen paleness of her pallor, for she had slept little in the past several weeks. What she did not expect was the natural rose hue that had taken subtle hold of her cheeks, bringing a natural, feminine glow to them without the application of falsehoods like rouge.
Celestia tilted her head thoughtfully and considered the tall and willowy, yet otherwise rather plain pony that stood where her reflection had always been. As a ruler, she had never seen herself as anything but the primary servant of her country. She wondered if it was wrong of her, after all that had happened, to find some measure of contentment in knowing that she would serve her country yet again, albeit in a more obvious capacity.
“Eyes forward,” The young mare, who appeared out of the corner of Celestia’s eye, said flatly. Celestia appreciated the hoofmaiden’s ability to adapt to the ebb and flow of her job. Sucking in a deep breath, Celestia stood up straight, puffed out her snow-white chest, and brought her attention to bear solely upon her own reflection, until the depth of her exquisite eyes was broken up by the freckled visage of the hoofmaiden.
“Be still,” The hoofmaiden ordered in a voice that only slightly betrayed her own uncertainty. Celestia knew what was coming. She raised her chin, closed her eyes, and waited for a metallic clicking noise to ring out behind her neck. When she fluttered her lids back open, she chanced upon her new neck gear; an exquisite, magically-latching collar. The ornament was a testament to the new regime - set with garish gems produced from diamond dog mines, it was constructed of a deep black leather, tanned by the finest minotaur trappers, and accented by a color pattern that resembled griffin feathers. A single ring of solid gold hung from a riveted bracket where the collar touched her throat. To this the hoofmaiden quickly attached a long cord of similar black leather, the other end of which she looped over her foreleg.
The young hoofmaiden tugged on her former sovereign’s leash and nodded to the hallway. “Your master is waiting for you, Celestia,” The maiden said tersely, defaulting to the princess’s given name.
Celestia assumed it was the first time her former retainer had ever uttered her name without a respectful title attached. With her head appropriately bowed, the tall alicorn with the collar, leash, repression-sleeve, and tightly-bound mane stepped high, allowing her handler to keep the pace until she was led down the hall and through double doors to a great antechamber.
The large, round room was not as grandiose as the palace throne room or any of the receiving halls intended for visiting dignitaries, nor was it on the same elevation. This hall stood partway up a tall tower, and emptied out into a large balcony upon which Celestia had spent generations making public decrees to the populace, in good times and in bad. She had not been out there since the rousing, confident address she had given in anticipation of a final battle that nopony could ever have predicted.
She could hear their voices, even several yards away from the balcony. Outside she envisioned a veritable sea of uncertain ponies, mixed with dogs, griffons, and minotaurs - all well-armed by virtue of their physical characteristics alone. She saw only griffins in the sky outside, and knew it was due to the pegasus no-fly zone that had been set up temporarily around the city. The ‘enemy’ would keep a tight grip on the citizens of Equestria until they were lulled into capitulation by the words of their princess - the pony they trusted the most.
The weather was far too warm for a fire, and the hearth stood empty. Standing beside it, his back turned to the door, was the hulking presence of a broad-shouldered biped with war-scarred horns protruding from either side of his head. He wore a cape of crushed red velvet, lined with the stereotypical white fur of a ruler and complete with thick epaulets of gold mesh.
“L-Lord Kessen,” The small hoofmaiden squeaked, “I have brought your pet, as you commanded.”
The minotaur called Kessen said nothing. His arm came out, and in his meaty grip was a delicate glass filled with a plum-colored liquid. The glass was an appropriate size for most creatures of even Celestia’s height, but in his hand, it seemed comically small.
“Leave us,” The minotaur said in an even baritone.
The hoofmaiden’s eyes went between the two taller creatures. She curtsied, murmured words of appreciation to her ‘emperor’, and beat a quick retreat, shutting the doors and leaving Celestia alone in a situation that her personal guards would have once thought untenable. She stood alone, without her regalia, in a locked chamber with a behemoth of a being that could snap even her neck like a twig, were magical defenses not a factor.
And they weren’t.
Kessen’s fist moved; the plum liquid in it swirled, creating a sanguine film along the inner edges of the glass.
“This vintage is over a thousand years old,” Kessen rumbled. “It predates the lives of every pony, griffin, minotaur, and dog in the world, save for you and your sister.” He brought the glass to his lips and savored another drag of the wine within, “I suspect you will taste no less sweet.”
Celestia kept her attention upon the crimson receiving rug under her hooves. “Y-yes...my emperor.”
Kessen turned, revealing a disapproving frown beneath his blunt snout. He was bare of chest in the manner of his people, save for the cord of gold around his gunmetal-blue throat that connected to his epaulets. The only allegiance to a military order he wore was a pair of black slacks, that dusted his cloven hooves and ran red with a single stripe down each leg. Upon his head, encircling the wizened hint of gray in otherwise jet black locks, stood a tiara that was once Celestia’s, but had since been altered into a jagged, heavy crown.
“Your ponies will call me that,” He warned. “It is not for you.”
Celestia felt one of her knees bend. She inclined her body, kept her eyes averted, and sought to fill the new, unfamiliar role she had been assigned.
“...yes, Master.”
Kessen polished off his drink and set the glass farther up on the hearth than any pony could hope to reach without magic or a stool. “My men finished off the rest of it,” He explained without being asked. “Do you understand?”
Celestia nodded. “Fine wine vintages are a sign of national pride, Master.”
Kessen nodded. His hooves moved, and soon he loomed before his pet, glaring over her head and down at her wings. “Correct. But you are also a sign of national pride-” He placed a finger under Celestia’s chin and pushed, forcing her to raise her face to his, “-you, your sister, and the third princess that lives within your borders. I will have your standards, your traditions, and your ancient vintages destroyed. Do you understand why I do not do the same to you?”
Celestia, despite her millennia of wisdom from a position of power, felt her throat inadvertently close as she locked with Kessen’s eyes. “Y-you would be creating a martyr then, Master. It is better to live among those you have conquered, and reap the benefits of their society. It is...” Celestia had to admit, “...a wise way to conquest.”
Kessen let go of Celestia’s chin and raised a brow thoughtfully. “Then I shall expect your fealty and obedience, as you encourage your people to accept the new way of things. You may not believe it because of my methods of waging war, but I do not condone violence without purpose.” He took a breath, turned to pace about the room, and went on, “Uniting our peoples to share in the wealth of culture yours have kept greedily to yourselves, thus promoting universal prosperity, is reason enough to send brave warriors to their deaths.” He fixed her with his withering gaze, “Serve me. Obey me, and encourage those you once ruled to follow your example. In return, there will be no more killing.”
Celestia appreciated her new master’s unique sense of eloquence. The way he put it, the entire affair seemed as though it had been truly beneficial to all involved. She gave her regards without looking him directly in the eye.
“Yes, Master.”
Kessen paused to glance at the balcony. He snapped his fingers, waited for his charge to trot to his side, and placed a hand roughly atop her head, scratching her between the ears like a cat.
“Your sister is an enemy of the people. She took wing during her escape, and thus the griffin command was dispatched after her. She will be theirs, while your former student will be the property of the diamond dog king. The leaders of both nations have sworn themselves as my vassals. In this way shall our new nation take shape. You will adhere to your role in it, as the personal property of myself and my descendants.”
Kessen’s hand slipped down to caress Celestia’s rear. The princess was momentarily startled - she had little experience with how to respond to such a touch from a stranger. Fortunately her tail had been bound tightly in the manner of whores, allowing him to easily slip his fingers beneath it.
“My descendants,” He repeated, “Some of which, you will whelp. Think of it as maintaining your own dynasty, even after it has been deposed.” His fingers began to stroke a place under Celestia’s tail that no common pony had ever seen. “You will produce progeny, and they will all be touched by my seed and influence.”
Celestia looked down at her leash, which was still dangling free. Kessen patted her rump, urging her forward like cattle until she stepped out upon the balcony to make her address.
The scene was as she expected. As voices quieted en masse, Celestia took note that two-thirds of the faces that turned to her were not those of ponies at all. Kessen had thought to soften the blow by not placing armed guards among the crowd - instead, they stood at the gates, battlements, and other key positions throughout as much of Canterlot as Celestia could see. They were a reminder; one that the princess hoped would not be necessary in due time.
The equine faces that turned to meet Celestia’s ran the gamut of expressions. Some looked angry. Others were hurt or frightened, while many others simply looked confused and in need of her support. As she scanned them, she thought to hasten her words. Integration was their best hope for survival now, and she feared what the result might be if the crowd had a chance to become unruly. She felt the patient shadow of Kessen looming behind her like a gathering storm as she spoke-
“Citizens of Equestria,” Celestia began, her voice amplified by the magic of a unicorn retainer who stood under guard on a nearby outcropping, “I address you this day to allay the concerns you no doubt have for your spouses, your homes, your fillies, and your colts. Some of you may be confused. Some of you may be frightened, or encouraged to show animosity towards our new fellow citizens,” She spoke, “But you need not be. We, the princesses of Equestria, have reached an accord with our counterparts, and I am pleased to share with you the dawning of a new, enriching day for us all.”
She paused, watching as confused faces turn towards a dog or griffin, lips mouthing the phrase ‘fellow citizens’ questioningly. Eyes turned back to Celestia, and she continued-
“On the morrow, there shall be a celebration. A celebration of welcoming, in which myself and several key members of our society shall trot among you in the streets, in positions of deference and appreciation to those who have brought our many peoples together.”
Right on cue, Emperor Kessen stepped onto the balcony. A muted gasp rose and fell like a rolling wave through the audience. Celestia ignored the reaction and went on-
“Under the emperor of our new united nations, we shall usher in a new era of peace for minotaur, griffin, dog, and pony alike. I realize that it is difficult to take such a great leap of faith in the wake of so much loss, but I encourage you to accept the new order of society. To allow our friends into your businesses, homes, thoughts, and to share with them all the fellowship that I know exists within you, having been your ruler for so long. With Emperor Kessen to guide us, we will look not to the transgressions of the past, but boldly forward, to a new day. Allow me to take the first step-”
With that, Celestia yielded the center of the balcony to Kessen. Standing beside and beneath him, she took her dangling leash in her mouth, sat on her haunches, and looked up at him in a begging posture, offering the leash up until he threaded his fist through the loop for the very first time. He yanked upon it firmly, returning her to her hooves.
“With this act of falling and rising again,” Kessen bellowed, the amplification spell moving to his voice now, “My pet, Celestia, shows you her place, and provides to you an example of proper peace through deference. As your new ruler, each of you have my word that obedience will be rewarded. You may retain your property and go about your lives, save for political and military positions, which will be held solely by your new neighbors until out societies are properly integrated. Those of you who hold an unbalanced amount of wealth will be dealt with on an individual, fair basis.”
Kessen yanked on Celestia’s leash again. She jerked towards him, but as he caressed her cheek and drew her into a public kiss, she accepted it, and placed a hoof on his chest to further show her deference. When the kiss broke, he kept her near, scratching her again as he might a non-sentient creature.
“Go,” He commanded. “Return to your homes and look forward to tomorrow’s celebration of unity. I expect you all to be in attendance.”
Celestia knew it was the last time she would ever feel the tickle of a voice-amplification spell. Her voice was no longer worthy of being heard, and with his hand on her leash, she would sit quietly, speaking only when prompted to, as she focused on being a spectacle of beautiful property for her emperor.
Celestia, once a princess, retreated into the stone chamber, the sensation of the carpet foreign upon her bare hooves. Tomorrow, she would show them all how to make peace.
The hole in the sky had gotten larger.
One day prior, Celestia had been dismissed shortly after her address to her former citizens. It had been sometime in the afternoon, but she had long lost track of time – she could feel the position of the sun in the late afternoon sky, but it was frozen there, thus making the hours of the day hard to tell apart. Endless day or night benefitted no one and there had been assurances that Celestia would be allowed to move the sun again, but the privilege would not return until her new master had deemed her worthy.
Her eyes on the sky, Celestia thought about her sister. Luna was a fighter, and lacked the diplomatic background that blunted Celestia’s edge enough to help her accept any humility that would benefit her people. The Moon Princess had, by contrast, simmered through the defeat. To her credit Luna had lasted through the peace-talks, even going so far as to accept the terms of surrender along with the other royalty of Equestria, but suppressing her magic had been Luna’s breaking point. When she finally bolted, there was nothing left of the unfortunate dogs tasked with fitting Luna’s repression sleeve but smoking holes in the receiving carpet, and bits of charred armor.
Celestia sighed. She missed her sister, but perhaps Luna’s flight had been for the best. The griffins would either capture and tame her, and thus nothing would be lost so long as Celestia and her student existed to diffuse the situation, or they would…not. If the griffins failed to bring Luna home she would either escape to freedom, or she would die in combat. Celestia wished for the former, but knew her sister would still likely prefer the latter to capture.
The scars of battle were slowly dissipating; the hole in the sky was indeed getting larger by the day. Soon the rays of the sun would again shine upon Equestria, and with their light came the promise of a new day. A day that promised peace, one way or another.
Celestia glanced at herself in a dusty mirror within the small chamber she had been led to that morning. Emperor Kessen could easily have had his way with her in private from the moment her address had ended yesterday, but he had instead sent her away. In his own strange way, Kessen seemed to have a mind for ceremony – he would not take her leash until the first time she had publically given it to him, and though she knew what was ultimately to come, he would not take her body until he felt the time was right.
Outside, the sounds of a gathered crowd came to Celestia’s ears. The room she had been taken to was storage for royal chariots. It was something akin to a large garage, and thus she was a single set of double-doors away from the street. Within the chamber, there was little to keep the gilded chariots company beyond cold stone walls and a bevy of maintenance tools. The air stank of the machine oil that servants often made use of to keep wheels turning on demand.
It was a plain place. Glancing again at the mirror that waited in silence with her, Celestia took stock of the plain pony that now resided there.
Bereft of every badge of her former office, Celestia was now a somewhat average, if not tall, white mare. Her mane and tail were tied in such tight braids that they no longer flowed under their own power – the ties that bound them were adorned with bells and strips of colorful ribbon, such that they resembled the musical finery of Saddle Arabian harem concubines. The ensemble was accented by a bridle of elegant purple leather, set with fringe and tassels. Instead of a bit, the ends of the bridle were attached to a sheer slip of silk that rode over Celestia’s lips as a veil. Her collar, a menagerie of the forces that had claimed her, remained still upon her neck, and the rubbery sleeve that contained her magic was locked securely about her horn.
Celestia’s eyelashes had been curled, and her lids doused with deep lavender eyeshadow to compliment the color of her bridle. She batted them several times, staring at her reflection with little recognition. Her transformation was beyond even her own expectations, such that she couldn’t help but appreciate the skill that had gone into lowering her position below that of the common pony. Glancing about to ensure no one was about, she pranced before the mirror, shaking the bells and tassels as she attempted to practice steps that would complement what she had become.
Her steps were labored – her hind legs not yet comfortable with the unfamiliar burden they bore. Her cheeks flushed beneath her veil, and she turned her backside to the mirror to glance over her shoulder. Her tail was too heavy to lift on her own; tied as it was in the manner of whores, she could scarcely keep her secrets under wraps at all now, as the narrow tail swayed from side to side with every simple movement. She brushed it to the side to get a better look at herself.
There, in her tighter, higher hole, a golden plug was buried nearly to the hilt. It glinted even in the subdued light, and Celestia could clearly see the name of Emperor Kessen engraved upon it. This was the fate of the neckwear the princess once wore – melted down and rearranged into this new badge of office. A badge that made her his.
The time for inspection passed quickly, and at length, the doors were thrown open to admit a small horde of attendants. Temporarily blinded by the sudden light, Celestia winced in the face of diamond dog guards, armored and outfitted with large yokes, and pony hoofmaidens who would attend her in a mockery of their former positions. The guards, she already knew, were to be tasked with carrying the chariots like palanquins – Kessen had opted not to bend Celestia’s former guards to this task, choosing instead to disarm them and send them out into the crowd to view the spectacle with their fellow ponies. It was a further attempt to placate the pony mind, and ensure the populace that they would not be exploited beyond the systematic, psychological breaking down of their national identity and the symbols that maintained it.
Floating along in the sea of maidens were those few ponies who would be Celestia’s companions on parade. Bare of hoof and removed as well of everything from badges of state to the armor of captains, each mare of high military or cabinet breeding was adorned much as Celestia herself was, their own finery only slightly less grandiose than hers. They were also devoid of the plug that Celestia wore. The maidens hurried them, one each, up onto the chariots they once rode proudly. Soon, the entire line of once-proud chariots had been converted into a rolling display to show their subservience to the new regime.
Celestia had but a moment to acknowledge Twilight Sparkle before she took her place upon the chariot just behind Celestia’s own in line. Twilight, her lips shimmering with color behind her own veil and her eyelids crusted with garish shadow, had her mind to her task as though a new tome of knowledge lay before her with a cup of tea on a lazy Sunday. She did not appear happy by any means, but as she hopped into her place, Celestia felt a wash of pride for her student. Twilight had indeed become a servant of her people, and was demonstrating that she was just as able to accept humility for the greater good.
Celestia’s reverie was broken by the flowing silks of the young hoofmaiden who had attended her the previous day. The familiar earth mare was so young – the deep green freckles on her sage face and the thin glasses upon her muzzle made her appear as though she should be in books still, and not the finery of a maiden of the royal house. Celestia did not know her name, but chose to obey her without quarrel anyway. Resisting the maiden’s directions would only complicate life for the hesitant young mare, who was trying to adapt to her sudden elevation to the position of Celestia’s personal attendant. The truth was that Kessen had assigned a junior maiden to Celestia to reinforce the idea that the princess was now a pet with a handler, not a princess with an entourage.
The maiden stood on three legs. The fourth, a foreleg, was draped with several long strips of striped cloth in gold and royal purple. With her teeth, the maiden set her bundle, one strip at a time of four, upon a rough workbench, and then turned to Celestia, her brow knitted to firmness.
“Leg up,” The maiden commanded without a greeting, lifting her own foreleg daintily to demonstrate her order. Celestia repeated the gesture and then stood still, watching as the maiden worked to slip one of the sheer cloth sheaths over Celestia’s leg, up past the knee. They were stockings, composed of an intimate silk and lace combination that was as exotic as it was racy. While it was not unheard of for a pony to wear stockings in public, these garments were the equivalent of sensual lingerie versus simple, everyday hose.
Celestia raised her other foreleg for its covering, and waited patiently as the maiden hesitated further with the hind legs. Clearly Celestia’s new ‘handler’ hadn’t expected the plug in her charge’s rear, which was impossible to miss given the tightly bound tail that could not hide it. Kessen had inserted it himself, after a brief visit with his pet before she was led into the carriage stalls to wait.
Celestia eventually took her place upon the lead chariot. Like the others, its seat had been temporarily converted into a platform with a hastily-constructed railing. She stood upon it, feeling its firmness under her hooves. It elevated her enough for her entire body to be exposed in every direction, as though she were riding atop a parade float.
A pair of burly dogs that dwarfed even the largest farm-stallion by at least double attached their yokes to the front of the chariot. Their ruddy iron helmets sat low on their heads, masking each dog’s expression and thus taking attention away from them. Celestia’s handler took a position upon the chariot-float as well, lower and off to the side.
A signal was given, and the doors were thrown back. Celestia found her eyes blinking with light adjustment despite the gray skies. Her ears swiveled in every direction, assaulted by the din of the outside world she was being rolled into.
It was Canterlot as Celestia had never thought it could be, and her high perch did little to offset the diminutive feeling she got when comparing her new self to the high walls. As before, each distant battlement was attended by the silhouette of a minotaur or dog guard, while griffins on duty patrolled the skies at a lazy pace, high above the standards of the unifying forces.
But the real action was in the streets. Unmolested by the conquering guards, ponies writhed in a throng about the path that had been cordoned off for the chariots, each attempting to catch a glance of the procession. Celestia wasn’t certain if Kessen’s decree that ‘all shall be in attendance’ was a threat, but given the situation, she doubted any of her subjects would have been difficult to coerce. Trumpets blared out a spirited tune, as if the parade’s intended destination were nothing so scandalous as the Summer Sun Celebration. Celestia felt a yank on her leash, which had never been removed from her collar the day before, such that she had slept in it.
“Tail up,” Her handler muttered. “Smile…please.”
Wearing a smile was simple enough – the art of reassurance was practically a job requirement for being a princess. The rest of the task, however, was not as simple as Celestia had hoped. She could feel flash photography crawling along her body, like so many multi-legged insects through the wintery forest of her coat. Paparazzi clicked photo after photo for the papers, as though their princess had chosen all of this of her own accord.
Bowing her head and closing her eyes, Celestia attempted to hide behind the tiny veil over her muzzle as she obeyed the other command. Tensing the muscles in her dock, she strained against the weight and finally raised her tail out of the way. She felt another tug from her handler – obeying the movement, she turned her rump towards the thicker carpet of colorful pony coats and allowed the audience a clear view of Kessen’s plug inside her. Her marehood, usually well-concealed by her flowing tail, also went on display as a result.
Celestia heard gasps, muttering, and even catcalls. There were voices that spoke of scandal and some of disgust that their sovereign would be reduced to this, but a few others were engaged either in complements to her rump, or desires to take it for themselves. The intensity of Celestia’s embarrassment made her backside feel as warm as her face. She kept herself on display, turning and pivoting at the behest of her handler such that the former princess might show herself properly in all directions. She picked up her hooves and even beat her wings a few times – they were vain, weak attempts to prance, and the elegant alicorn felt clumsy in their execution.
The catcalls increased, and she wondered how many of them originated from her own citizens. Blinded by the photography, she heard her own name shouted far more frequently than that of any of the other ponies on display. When she was able to back, she could see that the rest of her entourage, including Twilight, were just standing there atop their viewing platforms, staring about uneasily or bowing their heads in embarrassed acceptance. Celestia came to understand the unequal attention she was receiving. This parade was to show the subservience of the royal sisters, and since there was only one sister to go around, the onus was on the half of the pair that remained.
For a brief moment, Celestia felt fire glowing behind her eyes. Enduring embarrassment by herself was one thing, but the very idea that they would have done this to her sister as well brought a sneer to her lip that putrefied her smile. She swallowed hard and tossed the emotion back into the recesses of her psyche.
The conquering forces were everywhere, and yet…her little ponies seemed to be having a good time. With the way things had become, what more could she ask for?
The procession came to a halt just outside the walls of Celestia’s palace, in the courtyard where ponies often gathered for social events. There was a large, round, stone dais in the center, where the devices of the twin princesses were usually put upon display to celebrate the summer sun. The devices were gone now – replaced by a single, hulking, familiar minotaur, dressed exactly as he had been the day before. Kessen’s burly guards ringed the dais from below, but he stood atop it like some statue in his own right, decked out in his garish cape, uniform pants, and the altered crown that had once been Celestia’s. His arms were folded and he never moved a muscle, apart from the occasional snort of hot breath from his snout.
Kessen’s eyes bore straight through the procession to focus entirely upon Celestia. His pet, packaged and waiting to be delivered to him, was under the constant supervision of his icy blue stare as it lanced out and grappled her, pulling her inexorably to her fate. In the emperor’s calm, the former princess could see a constantly calculating mind – one that knew everything around it and already had a thousand plans in place to deal with any threat from any angle.
Celestia smiled ruefully beneath her veil, a curious desire ticking the back of her mind. Had she met him upon the field of battle with her magic intact, she believed Kessen would have still proved a formidable and interesting opponent.
A portion of the railing around Celestia’s perch pivoted like a gate. Her handler had already hopped down to street level, and was firmly tugging on the leash wrapped around her foreleg. Celestia stepped daintily down from her ‘carriage’, her stockinged hooves gracing the flagstones with a reserved tuft rather than a pronounced clack. She glanced backwards long enough to view her companions, who were left atop their vehicles, their own handlers now encouraging them to turn about and present themselves for the prying eyes of the public.
The ring of guards parted, and Celestia was led up the dais to her master’s level. Celestia’s handler made another quick retreat, but not before ordering her charge to open wide and accept the coiled leash once again in her mouth. It came to pass that the dais boasted only the two rulers – one in a state of eclipse while the other had only begun to flourish.
Kessen never moved; never uncrossed his arms. The crowd was still in flux, their din drowning out his words such that only she could hear him clearly.
“I have lain with griffin hens before,” he said simply. “They are spirited and occasionally forget their own claws, but their plumage has never pleased me.”
Picking up on Kessen’s subtle hint, Celestia stepped forwards a few paces and flexed her wings to a span well beyond what any of her subjects could match. Even in stockings and a bridle, with a golden plug in her rear, she still managed to make the move look regal.
Kessen finally uncrossed his arms and closed the rest of the distance. He began to slowly circle his pet, intimately stroking her feathers and patches of her sides wherever he saw fit.
“Excellent,” he mused. “You could fly away at any time, yet you choose to remain. Do you understand why I have not bound your wings, nor discreetly had your primary feathers clipped?”
Celestia said nothing. Kessen, behind her now, took gentle hold of the plug that bore his name and twisted it slowly, enough to stiffen Celestia’s back and raise tension in her coat hairs. Pleased with this response, he let go and came up beside her.
“You please your master again,” he said simply. When he completed his circle of steps, he placed two fingers under her chin, and once again lifted her face to meet his eyes. “Unlike your sister, you understand that you are a servant of your people. Service is engrained within you, and thus you are better at it than you believe. I asked you a question, but you understood that my wrath would have been greater had you let this drop,” He fingered the leash dangling from Celestia’s mouth. “And beyond that, you understand that my refusal to bind your wings is so that you can show me your submission.”
Kessen let go of Celestia’s chin, expecting her to keep her face raised. When she did not disappoint, he reached up and ran the same fingers up the length of her rubberized horn-sleeve.
“You are bound in part,” Kessen continued. “Were I to bind you in full, you would have the excuse that your restraints are the only reason you obey. You may find it odd, my pet, but even now I maintain a certain level of respect for your intellect. Mortified as you likely are, you still care for your citizens, and you understand the subtleties of submission.”
Kessen held his palm out flat, inches beneath Celestia’s snowy maw. She bent her snout towards his hand, graced him with a touch there from behind her sheer veil, and daintily opened her mouth, placing the looped end of the leash in his grip. Kessen closed his fist around the leash, his other hand finding the spot where her crown used to sit. He scratched her there with an affection one might show for a farm animal of dubious sentience.
Celestia could no longer help herself. Her lips parted, her habitual desire to address the crowd welling inside her, but he placed a finger over her veil and silenced her.
“No,” Kessen commanded, “the time for that is past. You are mine now, and my pets speak only when they are spoken to. Surely you have worked out the true reason for this spectacle by now, have you not?”
Celestia had no time to answer. In a flash of movement, Kessen drew his finger from her lips, lifted her veil, and bent his massive shoulders to claim her lips. For a moment she stiffened again as the eyes of the public bore holes into her sides, but his mollifying stroking of her equine neck encouraged her to close her eyes in acceptance. He parted her lips, and soon she was suckling upon his tongue; milking the first offering of two he would grace her with that afternoon, in full view of the populace.
The noise from the crowed ebbed and flowed like tides upon a beach, but Celestia felt herself deafening to it. Kessen’s kiss was like none she had ever experienced before. It was not, however, the dexterity of his swirling tongue nor the scent of his musk upon her that enticed her the most – it was the sheer audacity with which he took her. In that moment, Celestia came to the realization that in every such experience she had enjoyed in the past, her partners had been holding back in deference to her rank. All of that was gone now, and when Kessen broke the kiss, she found herself searching his eyes with an unintentionally dreamy look. This creature was not afraid to truly have his way with her.
“…good,” was all Kessen said. He removed himself from her field of vision, and she suddenly found herself favoring the entire audience with a pair of bedroom eyes and soft blush upon her cheeks. She sought to straighten up, but he was already behind her, and his hands upon her rump kept her still. His voice was a low tremor, and again, she was sure the audience could only perceive his words in her reactions to them.
“The first time with a new partner is the one you most remember,” Kessen rumbled as he touched the golden plug and twisted it again. “You will remember your first time with me right here, right now, on display for all to see; standing like a mounted animal with no bed, no satin pillows, and no privacy. Thus, the next time I choose to amuse myself inside you as I sit upon your throne, you will already be used to the idea.”
Celestia felt Kessen’s finger slide its way along the puffy entrance to her marehood, and he chuckled as it came away damp. There was a tug again at her collar; just enough to remind her that the leash was still there.
“You train quickly,” Kessen observed. “And you train well.”
The time for words ended. Celestia whimpered and clenched her teeth as she felt the invader slide inside her. It was not of the familiar equine shape – far thicker and broader, Kessen’s blunted tip found and roughly kissed her cervix faster than any penetration she had ever felt before. She could feel only the faintest hint of his hips against her rump. Even in coitus, he had found a subtle way to exert his superiority over her by right away making it plain that he was longer than she was deep.
Kessen held himself at Celestia’s deepest point until finally she could feel him pull back, and then thrust once more slowly forward. Her inner walls, as silky smooth as the veil that contained her ragged breath, parted easily in their dampness as they fed him again into her core with welcoming hugs.
“…ohh…”
There was nowhere to go; no way to hide herself. Celestia could only stand there and allow her unlikely paramour to enjoy himself at an easy pace, ramping it up gradually as only he saw fit. His fingertips dug into the soft coat of her hips, which he used for leverage to strike home time and again. Celestia’s breath began to come to her in short bursts. Soon her lungs were cycling air in time with his thrusts, and every attempt at words was stolen away on the wings of sharp moaning.
“Your eyes are closed,” Kessen huffed, “But theirs are not. Feel their gaze upon you, pet. It pleases them to watch this, even if they would never admit to it.” His grip on the leash tightened, forcing her to gag once. “They are lighthouses on a distant horizon. A hundred miles away, far enough for you to enjoy yourself, while still displaying your silhouette against the horizon for all of them to see.”
“…ah…hahh…”
Celestia whimpered again, struggling against her collar. Kessen allowed her to breathe, but only when he so chose.
“Tell your master what you want, pet,” Kessen whispered, his words carved in deep relief against the distant voices of the crowd in Celestia’s mind. “Listen to the sounds of your own arousal in your ears, and tell me what you want most at this very moment. See that your master is as kind as he claims.”
Celestia could barely hear the crowd at all now. There was nothing but her master’s voice and the rhythmic squishing of their intercourse. She felt him flex within her, pulsing with fertile life, and words passed through her veil before she could stop them-
“…m-master…nnghahh…b-breed your p-pet…ahhgn…”
“As you wish, Princess,” Kessen replied.
Slamming into his partner with abandon, Kessen yanked sharply on the leash. Celestia took the mental cue, and as climax tore through her, she reared up, spun her forelegs in the air like an Appleoosan cattle herder, and let out a shrill, feral whinny. Kessen made one last thrust, and then held himself at Celestia’s deepest point once again, this time injecting her with rope after rope of thick, sticky seed from a race outside of her own.
Celestia felt her higher reasoning thicken with a syrupy haze. For that moment, she was nothing more than a breeding receptacle for her master. Kessen grunted and shivered. It was a subtle hint of his appreciation, and it brought a small smile to his property’s lips.
The world was shut out, and in the deepest recesses of Princess Celestia’s heart, she had found a small victory. In the new order, she could at least allow herself to enjoy such treatment.
The tips of Twilight Sparkle’s ears were getting sore.
For over an hour, there had been nothing to accompany the sound of water dripping from stalactites except for a concise, rhythmic pinging noise; like several dozen iron hammers clattering off of a stone wall. Twilight’s precise mind, combined with a lack of having anything better to do, had been given ample time to isolate the cadence of each sound. There was indeed a pattern – each sound, when compared only to one of the exact same pitch that had come before, was creating a perfect beat all its own. If they were hammers, Twilight reasoned that they were being operated either by a machine, or an absolute master artificer. Any less, and their timing was simply impossible.
Twilight’s day had not been without its surprises. At the parade, they dressed her like a harem slave and told her to prance. She had thought that Kessen would make an example out of both of his captured princesses, and had every reason to assume that after the public use of her mentor, she would be next. From her perch atop the second carriage in line, Twilight had little choice but to view her teacher’s political defloration. She could no more turn her face away from such a spectacle than any other pony present, but her expectations were derailed when she did not, in fact, end up as conquest number two.
Instead, when the mock ceremony finally concluded and Kessen led his prize back into the castle, several burly dog guards surrounded Twilight’s carriage, lifted it clean off the ground, and spirited it away in a direction that was very much opposite to the grounds of Canterlot Palace.
Now, Twilight found herself somewhere she could not place. It was clearly a subterranean cavern, and the crystal formations were so similar to what she knew to exist under the palace that she had to assume she was still in the city somewhere. But spelunking was not among her repertoire of skills, and thus she quickly lost her way amidst winding passages being introduced at speed by a troupe of quickly marching dogs.
Eventually they sat her down, hauled the carriage away, and simply left her in an empty chamber. She was secured only by a heavy, hempen rope that connected her collar to a post in the floor that was buried so deep, she thought it must have been slammed home by dropping a boulder on it. There she stayed, alone in a dark place she could not bring light to, with no company but the persistent ringing sounds.
The empty solitude soon began to grate on her. With great intelligence came a mind that demanded constant input, and Twilight knew that if she didn’t set her mind to some task, any task, the monotony would drive her mad. Thus, she followed every single sound, allowing them all to perk and swivel her ears so many times that she had gone sore.
Twilight glanced at one particularly large crystal. She concentrated, hoping to illuminate it sufficiently for its reflective surface to act as a mirror, but it remained an only partially defined shape in the low light. She sighed, chastising herself for her foolishness, and instead craned her neck all around for a visual inspection of herself.
Her outfit was not dissimilar from what the crown princess had been wearing for the parade, albeit less grandiose and without a bridle. Twilight wiggled her hips, and remained thankful that Kessen had seen fit to place his mark in Celestia’s backside only. Her mane and tail were adorned with colorful ribbons thatched with faux flowers, but neither had been bound in the way her mentor’s had. Her eyelids were crusted with a thick layer of blue shadow and her lips were apple-red with color. Her flanks and rump were adorned with silks so sheer that her coat was visible as an almost ghostly shape beneath them, gathered at her hips so that wisps of the material danced about her legs and lent a sort of poetry to her movements. Upon her legs she wore long stockings much like Celestia had, only Twilight’s were striped in green and purple. She was unused to wearing something that hugged her legs, and had already developed a habit for prancing with her forelegs when she was standing still.
Around her neck was the one item that didn’t fit with the rest. Twilight’s collar was set with gems like Celestia’s, but instead of resembling the wings of a griffon, hers had all the thick, heavy, burdening garishness of diamond dog lust. Her ring was twice the size of Celestia’s, and the rope that bound her was nearly the thickness of her foreleg.
Twilight swung her head at a nearby crystal, but found herself just out of reach. The rope held her in place and teased her away from her vain attempts to bash at the lock on the sleeve around her horn. Her wings were no match for her bonds either. She sighed, and the sound echoed down the corridor to mingle with the pinging noises.
Twilight had negotiated the surrender terms alongside the royal sisters. She had agreed not to ruin the fragile peace. Yet she continued to struggle all the same. She mouthed a silent apology to her mentor, but in her heart, she wasn’t certain if she could endure this treatment for the rest of her days. If nothing else, as a natural unicorn, she still had the itch to let her power free.
Clattering noises that Twilight recognized as the chinking of armor plates drew her attention. She turned, and there before her stood yet another in the long line of burly, nearly identical diamond dog guards, with a low helmet that eclipsed his brow.
“Pony,” the beige dog barked, “you come now.”
Twilight raised her brow and snarked at her rope. “I’d like to, but as you can plainly see, I’ve found a room already. Maybe you could tell me when check out is?”
The dog tilted his head, and what little light the crystals naturally radiated glinted from his helmet. He seemed puzzled, and took no offense as her rapier wit sank harmlessly into the blubber between his ears.
In the guard’s paw was a narrow spear with a deceptively sharp head, which he used to make short work of the rope in a truly brutish fashion – severing it instead of being bothered to undo the heavy knot. He nabbed the end of the rope with surprising agility, and had the thick cord wrapped twice around his forearm before Twilight could as much as flex her wings. She felt a hard yank at her neck, and nearly toppled over as the guard simply began to walk away with the makeshift ‘leash’ in his grasp.
Kicking up dust as she fought for her hooves, Twilight scurried to fall in with him. She glanced at the ceiling and the myriad portals in every wall. It occurred to her that even were she to have taken flight, she had no idea where to go. Another, harder yank at her neck broke up her thoughts.
“Ack, hey!” The princess complained, “be careful! Are you even listening to me?”
The guard neither spoke nor so much as flicked an ear in recognition. Twilight had little choice but to follow him as he plunged into another dark corridor; his eyes likely far better suited for the dark than hers.
The darkness of the caverns was not absolute, but it contributed to Twilight’s continued inability to trace a return path through the twists and turns of her journey through them. She had expected to be taken down, further into the crack in the earth’s crust that designated a diamond dog habitat. To her surprise, she found that the grade her legs were moving upon sloped upwards, so steep at some points that it almost constituted stairs. Such was severity of the slope that she sometimes took wing, simply to float a few inches off the ground and spare her hooves the strain.
Eventually the craggy slope did form itself into something resembling proper stairs, and Twilight noticed that the higher she climbed, the more dog workers they encountered. The ringing noises were indeed coming from miners at toil, in every position from digging in the floor to hanging by ropes upon the walls, repelling down sheer slopes to bag their quarry. The princess peered out over the edge of a narrow slope into the large black pit from whence she had emerged, but could see nothing of the beginning of her journey.
Twilight wondered how exactly a dog miner chose what spot to excavate in such a massive cavern. Of greater curiosity were the tools of their trade – a few of them employed crude stone tools or finer items that had obviously been pilfered from Canterlot, but the majority of the workers simply gouged at the silt with their claws. These unequipped miners were generating just as much of a ringing noise as the ones who toiled with hammer and chisel. Diamond dog nails were apparently much harder than ever the princess of friendship knew.
At length, a shaft of light that did not match the glow of crystals or lanterns brought a squint to Twilight’s eye. Up ahead was an opening in a wall that was so jagged, it looked like something she could have done herself with a blast of magic power. Beyond was a chamber that was far too orderly to be of dog make. It sported fine tapestries and walls with corner lines so sharp, you could slice a loaf of bread just by throwing it at them.
Twilight thought she recognized the architecture. When her handler led her through the portal, she quickly realized why. The hole that had been excised from the wall was one of many, each of which had been bored directly into the ground basement level of Canterlot palace.
There were dog miners everywhere, trotting about to and fro between the portals as they went about the task of hauling gems and placing them in large piles haphazardly throughout the huge, single basement chamber. Equestrian finery and artifacts, placed in storage there previously, had been cast aside or simply buried in the shiny materials that dogs valued far more. The center of the massive chamber had been converted into a makeshift base of operations, where dog guards stood at attention. Other dogs, with crude medals pinned to the breasts of finer jackets (some of pony make that were merely draped about their shoulders) were grunting at the workers from the “base” area, pointing either to the portals or a spot on the ground.
Not far from the perimeter of dog ‘nobles’ lay the largest mounds of the finest sparkling specimens from below. Before these gems sat a large chair that seemed to have been hewn directly from the side of a mountain with little thought for craft. Upon it slouched a huge, jet black dog. He was mostly unclad, save for a velvet cloak of royal blue that was even more garish than Kessen’s, and a crown upon his head that was unmistakably Twilight’s. Drumming his fingers upon one arm of the chair, he was spinning a sizable gem around in his other paw with all the excitement of an appraiser who had seen far too many of the same specimen.
Twilight had little time to gawk. Yanked again by the guard, she stumbled through the line of nobles and was promptly brought before the seated dog, who seemed to be in charge by virtue of the fact that he was the only one who was at rest. Twilight’s guard held fast to her leash, but stepped aside and came to sharp attention as his charge was brought within casual conversation distance of the throne. The dog guard reached out with his spear and swatted Twilight’s knees, bringing her forelegs into a proper bow.
Twilight’s first instinct was to resist – to rise again in defiance of such treatment. Another quick glance around the room stayed her thoughts, and brought a question to her mind so fast that she blurted it out even before introductions.
“There are no ponies,” She said aloud, turning her attention to the enthroned dog. “What have you done with the ponies?”
She expected some sort of tongue-lashing by the seated dog, whom she had spoken so rudely to. Instead, the bored sovereign seemed pleased to finally have something to put his attention on. He blinked his icy blue eyes at her and tilted his head, allowing one ear to flop.
“No ponies,” He said simply, his voice surprisingly high and shrill for his immense, commanding size.
Twilight froze with horror. “Y-you…what do you mean ‘no ponies’…? Wh-what did you do with them all…?”
The High Dog shrugged. “No ponies work,” He replied, and then pointed one digit from his paw towards the ceiling. “Rules.”
Twilight considered the dog’s words. A thought struck her, and she brightened despite the situation.
“Kessen…” She reasoned. “Kessen won’t let you put the ponies to work in your mines, will he? He’s still trying to mollify the populace with that whole ‘integration’ approach, isn’t he.”
The dog narrowed his eyes and huffed out a breath. “We were promised good gems. The best gems. Gems from Canterlot mines.” He pointed at one of the holes. “This is our place now. We can have gems, and keep them here. But we cannot have ponies…” The dog’s finger traced slowly until he was pointing directly at Twilight, “…except for you.”
Twilight was pulled out of her bow by the guard. Unable to get her bearings this time, the guard simply dragged her on her side up to the throne, and began to tie her bulbous leash tightly around one of its impossibly heavy granite legs.
“You are my pony,” The crowned dog said simply. He then reached out and roughly ground his paw into the space between Twilight’s ears, ruffling her mane like a pet. “Pretty pony.”
Twilight sat up and sought for a proper introduction. “I…I am prince—“ She stopped herself, “I am Twilight Sparkle. It’s nice to meet you, king…er…lord—“
“King!” The dog announced, finally sitting up straight. He pointed with pride at Twilight’s crown, which still graced his brow. “I am strongest dog! So I am king!”
“King…’king’,” Twilight muttered, perplexed. She glanced around the room again, attempting to make conversation. “So the basement is your…place to gather the gems from the castle mines?”
The dog king grabbed up another gem from the pile, this one the size of Twilight’s head, and held it out as though brooding over the skull of Yorick. “Pretty gems, all ours now!”
Twilight managed a small smile, and spoke as though to an infant. “That’s…all you really want, isn’t it. Just more shiny gems. You dug holes around the city for Kessen’s troops to pop out of, and you died in droves…just for more gems.” Curiosity bit her, and she continued, “What do you use the gems for?”
“What?” The dog king turned sharply to her. Twilight nodded at the gem in his grasp.
“What do you use them for?” She asked again. “As far as I know only dragons can eat gems. Are they currency? Status?”
“Gems are pretty!” The king growled, casting the large gem aside and slamming his fist down on the chair arm. The burly guard who was standing nearby winced. “Dogs will have all of the pretty gems! I am the strongest dog! I am king! I will have the most gems!”
Twilight instinctively shrank before the dog king’s bellowing bombast. Her mind began to work. She softened her expression, smiled amicably, and spoke.
“What if I could give you more gems than this? More gems than Kessen promised you?”
The king’s lip twitched, his droopy jowls waggling. Twilight was pleased that this specimen of sentient canine at least did not drool the way many of his fellows did. To a dog, the ability to keep one’s spittle inside one’s mouth was probably a sign of noble breeding.
“More gems?”
Twilight twisted her body, allowing her silks to wind provocatively around the shiny star that was her cutie mark. “I used to be a princess, before your noble warriors overthrew me,” she buttered, “princesses have lots of gems.”
The king sniffed, as if he could catch the scent of the promised wealth in the air. “How can pony have more gems?” He inquired, pointing again at one of the busy portals. “Down there are many gems. All the gems.”
Twilight shook her head. “Nope. There are even more gems. But only I know where to find them.”
The dog considered this. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, but the gesture was clumsy enough to suggest he was merely copying behavior he had probably observed from Emperor Kessen.
“Where are more gems?” He finally asked.
Twilight placed her hooves on the arm of the throne and brought herself up, close enough to him for a whisper. “I have magic that can find more gems.”
“Magic?”
“Mmhmm,” Twilight nodded. “You know that some ponies have magic spells that can find gems, right?”
“Ponies are good for finding gems,” The king gave a simplistic reply. “We wanted more ponies to find gems for us.”
Twilight continued to spin her web. “You have the gems Kessen promised you, but you’re not really happy, are you? This would all go a lot faster with pony workers, and he won’t let you have any.”
The king grunted derisively, sending a puff of hot breath into Twilight’s face. “We can have a pony.”
“One pony,” Twilight held her hoof up. “Kessen must not want you to find all the gems, or he would have given you more than one pony, right? What if he’s keeping some of the gems for himself? The ones he knows you won’t find?”
The king squinted, and Twilight could practically see the wheels turning in his head. She pressed on-
“Wouldn’t it be a shock to him if you ended up finding all those gems anyway? If that one pony he gave you found all the gems he’s hiding?”
The king looked positively befuddled. Twilight kept her ears submissively down and bowed her head slightly, displaying the rubberized, locked sheath upon her horn.
“With my magic, I can find all the gems,” She whispered. “All you have to do is take this off. I’m your pet, right? You have your collar on me, and you have a crown. You’re the strongest dog. The king. Kings make wise decisions. Other dogs would be amazed at your wisdom if you found all the gems.”
The dog king’s eyes met Twilight’s. Twilight saw a certain intelligence there, but it was on a level just slightly above the feral. He was a brilliant beast, but still a beast. Twilight had promised Celestia she would behave, but if he would just take the sheathe off…just give her one chance…she could right all of this before her mentor even had time to complain about it…
“What kind of gems?”
Twilight was taken aback by the question. “What…kind…?” She wracked her brain, “Um…all kinds. Rubies, emeralds, sapphires, garnets, amethysts, diamonds—“
“DIAMONDS!?” The dog roared the word so loudly that he drew attention from cowering subjects. He did touch Twilight’s horn, but instead of removing her cage, he wrapped his hand around it and stood, lifting her entire body off the ground and to his eye level.
Twilight instantly knew that she had said too much. She might be brilliant, but she was playing the one game that diamond dogs knew even better than their own names.
“There are no diamonds in this region! Pony is lying! Pony is trying to escape!”
Twilight thrashed as the pain from being lifted up by her horn made her eyes water. Her limbs hung helplessly before her as she croaked, “D-did I say diamonds…? I meant…ergh…p-peridots…”
The king sat down again, a sign to his retainers that all was well. He kept to his grip, and Twilight found herself suspended above and between his legs.
“Pet pony is not here to find gems,” He explained. “Pet pony is here to be dog’s pet. There are dogs that are dumber than diamond dogs. Animal dogs. You ponies keep them as pets.” He grinned, his jowls spreading with the movement, “Now, dog keeps you as a pet.”
With that, the dog king, deposited Twilight onto his lap, spun her around, and smacked her rump so hard she would have topped off of him had he not held her fast. She cried out, still reeling from the pain in her horn, as the dog continued.
“Pony is my pet,” He rumbled. “Pony will please me, or pony gets locked in the deepest place in the mines, all alone, with no light that ponies need to see, until pony becomes like animal dogs!”
Twilight received two more swats under her tail until she was unceremoniously cast onto the floor, the stone that rose to meet her knocking the wind from her lungs. Huge hands grasped her rump, hauling her backside up until her hind legs were straight, but her chin was still mashed into the floor. She felt a presence – something stiff, thick, pulsing and cylindrical, playing at the cleft of her backside. From behind, the dog king chuckled.
“Ceremony is over. Pony belongs to me now. Pony is beautiful. I am king, and I have been waiting.”
Twilight felt a blast of hot air engulf her shoulders and mane. She tried to stand, but the combination of pain and the slippery unfamiliarity of her stockings kept her in a lewd position, with her rump sticking up to meet him.
“W-wait…” she whimpered, her words muffled by the corner of an ornate rug that happened to be trapped under the closest pile of gems. “I’m not ready, you can’t just—“
Twilight fluttered her wings, but the commanding force of the king’s grip was too strong to break. Without her magic, she was nothing but a scrawny mare, and as he impaled her with his canine thickness, she could do nothing but squirm and cry out. Her blurry vision revealed that she had become a spectacle for the amusement of the nobles, many of whom had abandoned their tasks to watch. Almost none of the dogs wore pants, and their casual penchant for simply petting the swelling between their own legs made minotaurs seem tactful.
It was all happening too fast, and a wicked thought struck the former princess. This was exactly what they had planned all along. The dogs had planned to make a sexual plaything out of her from the start, and she had only managed to distract their lord for a moment before his mind returned to the anticipation of sinking himself into her wet, silky, once-forbidden hole.
The dog hilted her, mashing Twilight further into the floor. It was her first experience with a non-equine partner, and she registered the feeling of a growing bulb inside her – his swelling knot, that would soon lock her to him until their coupling was complete. The king wasted little time. He mounted her properly from behind, his paws moving up to wrap almost entirely around her waist as he rammed himself home.
“Nngh…w-wai…anngh…”
“Quiet pony!” The king bellowed. Twilight thought she was being given an order, but the command turned out to be directed at one of the noble dogs. Gray of coat and adorned with more medals than the others, this one gripped Twilight under her forelegs and hauled her front up.
“Quiet pony,” The noble repeated the order. He began to prod at her muzzle with his tip, smearing drops of pre-seed into her fuzzy cheeks.
Twilight whimpered. From her earliest days, when the biggest challenges in her life came in the form of simple arithmetic, Twilight Sparkle had become used to success. The conquest of her home had been a pill that only Celestia’s sister seemed to have a harder time swallowing, but even from the ashes of that defeat, Twilight found she could take small comfort in negotiating a peace treaty that spared her friends and countryponies from abject exploitation.
In that she had succeeded. But as she opened her mouth and accepted her second ever canine spire only moments after the first, she realized why her gambit had failed. Diamond dogs were not stupid – they were merely simple in their own way. And that simplicity was, to a pony like Princess Twilight Sparkle, as foreign as apple farming was to a haughty scholar at the Sorbonne in faraway Prance.
They had exploited her one weakness. Her inability to fathom their limitations.
The noble dog ended Twilight’s attempts at subterfuge by taking away her only remaining asset – her voice. He ran his fingers through her mane and gripped her behind the ears, introducing himself to her palette over and over again while using the leverage to force down her gag reflex. She shut her eyes and did her best to accept him, clumsily probing unfamiliar territory with her tongue despite his complaints that she would require a great deal of additional training.
The dog king had gotten over his initial use of force. He was still roughly taking his pet, but the savagery had mellowed out as the pleasure enveloped him. The volume and persistence of his winding grunts told her that he was far less interested in Kessen’s level of decorum. The dog king was simply enjoying his first breeding session with his new interspecies pet, right there among his subjects as though it were a casual act.
Twilight knew nothing of dog mating habits, but she could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on her, and the ringing sounds from the mines had begun to vanish under the sounds of group coitus. Were they all just rubbing themselves or having sex of their own, like lemmings at the behest of their lord? She couldn’t tell. There was nothing before her but the thickness of a gray dog coat, and the musty, thick smell of masculinity that would one day cling to her always.
Above it all, the most difficult part of accept was the tingle that had begun to spread through Twilight’s loins. She would deny it later, but as the king’s demeanor softened into breeding need, her body had begun to respond to him. She had been under constant stress for weeks, and she was so tired. A voice, deep within her, encouraged her – made excuses-
He’s already inside you. There’s nothing you can do. Accept it. Does it really feel so bad? Nopony has to know. Just let it happen. Take pleasure from it. That’s your revenge. They can make you do it, but they can’t make you hate it.
Twilight managed the only sound she could make – a high pitched whinny. She bore down on the penis inside her, her slickening walls welcoming it in secret. She felt her tail, pinned under his bulk, attempt to twitch as she straightened her neck and silenced her own gags.
With the grace that only a former princess could muster, Twilight Sparkle, mare pet of the diamond dog king, milked her benefactors from both ends until each of them barked with pleasure and began to offer their thick, warm, creamy gifts. She didn’t know if a dog and a pony could mate, but she could feel the king’s lust for her body, and knew that eventually, she would find out. In the meantime, she had found a new battle to fight. It might take a long time, but with every dog noble whose bed she shared, and every lusty pair of canine eyes that fell upon her, Twilight would have a small victory.
The king collapsed atop her, pinning her entire body to the floor where she would remain until his knotted lust subsided. Release coursed through her body as well, and as the gray noble came to rest upon his knees, he too kept himself inside her, moving slowly with the spread of afterglow.
She would be their pet and their plaything. She might even grow heavy with their seed, but that was a concern for another day. Twilight Sparkle was always learning. Always evolving. For now, this is how she would serve her people. She belonged to the dogs…but they also belonged to her.
Princess Luna had never so wished for the dispelling light of her sister’s grace to shine again in the sky.
The sun was up, as it had been for weeks, but Luna lacked competence with her sister’s light to place its position in the sky. The light of her sister’s grace was, as always, muted by the heavy gray cloud cover that no Pegasus teams could be dispatched to clear away. The fate of Cloudsdale far above was unknown, but as Luna felt the weak rays of mottled sunshine caressing her wings in vain, she felt her situation no less grim than theirs.
Luna shut her eyes for an eternal second, and saw behind her eyelids dancing images of a recent past. Perhaps the only check upon her efforts during the battle had been the fear that if she had fought like any more of a demon, she might have spontaneously metamorphosed again into her fearsome alter ego, Nightmare Moon. Such a result might have been a boon for her friends – or an absolute catastrophe.
Luna cursed herself for her weakness. She had fought for all she was worth, but it hadn’t been enough. She was a princess of Equestria, and the Mare in the Moon of a thousand-year legend. No matter what, she could have - should have done more. She was a one-mare hit squad, capable of sweeping ancient fields of war all by herself. Thus she could not forgive herself for allowing current events to come to pass.
In peace, Luna had disgraced herself with equal measure. She had sat beside her sister at the peace talks, her tongue stayed by the oratory and wisdom of the only pony who could hold it at bay – Celestia, her beloved elder sister. Luna thought that perhaps she too could allow herself to be made the object for her adversary’s pleasure, if it meant mercy for her subjects. But a thousand years of habit ran deep. No matter her expression at the talks, her inward eye had been constantly narrowed at the creatures who would dare defile her realm that sat comfortably across the table. They were invaders, and in another time she would have wrested their still-beating hearts from their chests with her teeth, even as their spears pierced her hide.
But it was a world turned upside-down. Had she given in to her impulses they might have slaughtered her populace wholesale. With encouragement from her sister, that single thought was the only thing keeping Luna from another millennial rampage that was capable of doing far more harm than good. Thus she sat silently, nodded when her sister spoke, and muttered her acceptance of the terms with her hooves crossed behind her back.
At first, Luna thought she could put up with any indignity if it afforded her an opportunity to study her enemy for a weakness. Even the magic-suppression sleeve she managed to accept, but when the guards closed in on her, collar in hand to bind her for all to see, something snapped inside. Tearing herself free of all her bonds by force of sheer desperate will alone, she burned them all to ashes and fled her ancestral home to the song of their dying screams.
Luna shook her mind free of the chains of the past. Her chest heaved as she pushed wet, gray smog through her lungs. Her muscles were rigid and her eyes sharp, but she could still feel the worn in tear-streaks that had matted the fur on her cheeks. Her sorrow was not for her defeat, nor even was it for the defilement of her home. The Princess of the Night would never allow herself the luxury of such feelings. They were tears borne of the one failure she could not forgive. When her sister required her the most, Luna’s foolish pride would not allow her to stand beside Celestia. Thus the covenant of the twin sisters of sun and moon had again been broken, and The Moon, once more, felt herself responsible.
Now, Luna stood alone, and she knew they would come for her without delay. She had fled the throne room and it was too late to take her actions back, but she had not done so for her own freedom. The farther away she got – the farther she could draw the inevitable battle away from witnesses, the greater the chance that Kessen’s troops might not take her transgressions out on her friends, her countryponies, and her dear sister. With that in mind, Luna’s course wound in exhausting spirals, safely avoiding settlements that her pursuers might seek to ravage during their pursuit. As a destination congealed into reality in her brain, she had turned northward, forcing herself through exhaustion towards the northern border with the Crystal Empire.
Perhaps, Cadance’s realm was yet unspoiled. There was no way to know, but it was the only remaining location she could expect any sort of armed assistance. Thus, she flew or galloped like mad, depending on whether or wings or her legs were on the brink of giving out.
Luna’s limit was coming, but the crashing cascades and tall peaks of Neighagra Falls had yet to be traversed. When first she had seen the imposing natural barrier that blotted out the horizon, it occurred to her that she would have to make a choice of what to do with the last of her energy. Fight or flight were her only options, and she wasn’t sure her wings could still carry her high or far enough for flight to work out. If she turned to fight, they might defeat her, and drag her back to Canterlot in disgrace. Or perhaps they would kill her, and if anything she could be a martyr for her cause.
Then again, if she killed them…
Princess Luna bucked at the muddy dirt with her hooves and blasted a visible snort of hot air through her nostrils. Sweat ran in rivulets down her neck, matting her coat and checking the flow of her mane with its weight. Exhaustion cloyed at her senses, threatening to overwhelm her, but her mind was still clear. She was still Princess Luna, and her reserves were not yet spent.
There had never been two choices anyway.
Through her narrowed eyes were the feathery images of her adversaries. They were all around, but the distance they kept spoke of a quiet respect for her powers. It was a standoff, none of them seemingly possessing of the desire to be the first to die. Still, they were everywhere, and in her weakened state she was uncertain if she could destroy them all before they overwhelmed her.
Luna burned up a tiny bit of her dwindling reserves to cast an augmentation spell upon her throat. She then slipped back into the old voice and began to bellow-
“Hear us, for we are the Princess of the Night! We know that thy goal is to beat down our wings and take home thy prize, but thou shalt have none!!” She spun her gaze in a circle, checking every twitch of claw or paw in her direction with a flaring of her naked horn. “Perhaps thou shalt defeat us by weight of numbers alone, but rest assured we will take many of thee with us! Who among thee will be the first? Who is brave enough to be the first to perish in the flames of our night!?”
Luna allowed her words to whip herself into a frenzy of battle lust. Gone were the worries of what might happen to her citizens as a result. Her goal was the Crystal Empire. There she would find reinforcements to retake her homeland, and if she had to spill blood on the way, so be it.
There was a flash of movement somewhere to the southeast. Luna caught it out of the corner of her eye; whatever had caused it was enveloped in the carnal blaze of her magic before she could so much as distinguish it from a spooked doe. She thought she detected another movement to the west – this time she had an extra half-second to identify the object as a rock with a bit of wayward sunshine glinting off of it, before her spell caused it to evaporate like water. She shook her head hard, tousling her soggy mane in a clump behind her neck. She had been certain that light was glinting off of a razor-sharp griffon talon. Hallucinations? Just how far had adrenaline alone carried her?
The third movement was unmistakable, yet this time she gave pause. There before the perimeter of her opponents was a single griffon, standing absolutely still with one foreleg held aloft. Luna didn’t care how old or what gender the beast was – she noted only the rank insignia upon its cap that indicated a minor officer, and the steely look in its eye. She knew that look; it told her that the lieutenant was committed to whatever action it was planning to take.
Luna scoffed at the young officer, spilling out haughty laughter worthy of Nightmare Moon. “Thou leadest this rabble?” She asked, her horn alight again. “Go on. Give thy signal. See if thy soldiers will dare throw themselves upon my horn! But we warn thee to escape when the melee begins, for when we are through with them, we promise thou shalt bleed next!”
Luna had not been entirely truthful to the young officer. She knew that none of his troops wanted to be the first to die, and thus they would never obey his command – but she had no intention of letting him live as long as she promised. The moment his leg came down she would make an example out of him, and she was already rooting through the forbidden file cabinets in her head for the first spell of that would result in the slowest, most painful obliteration imaginable. She needed him to scream for the proper effect.
A tense moment passed. The griffon’s foreleg dropped. Luna’s horn erupted.
Battle was joined faster than the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. Luna’s shot went high and wide, harmlessly turning an oak tree into kindling as a bulky, winged beast slammed into her side. She turned and sunk her blunt equine teeth into his jugular. The attack was not sufficient to injure him, but damage was not part of her plan. Holding him in place for one precious instant, she lit her royal fires again and sent the griffon soldier straight to Tartarus.
Amid screeching growls that did both eagle and lion justice, the griffons swallowed Princess Luna up in an amorphous sea of sharp talons, rending beaks, and mighty paws. Quickly buried under their weight, it would have seemed to the casual observer that there was nothing left in the field but a pile of writhing griffons…until a blade of light sliced out from beneath them. The blade became a canopy that expanded outwards at speed, blasting every interloper clear of Princess Luna’s ragged countenance.
“HA!” Luna cried, now covered in fresh wounds to match the old ones she had received defending her home. “Is that all? Begone, carrion birds, lest we provide thy cousins the vultures with thy own meat upon which to feast!”
Again Luna was struck, and again she retaliated. A second wave of opponents was dispatched, and a third, each sustaining less damage than their predecessors. By the time the fourth wave piled in, the Princess of the Night’s magic had no greater effect than to shear wings, costing some of her assailants a mere temporary loss of flight. A claw caught her neck, and Luna’s chin smacked the dirt so hard her teeth rattled. She thrashed with her wings and still managed to catch a few unprepared legs with fearsome bucking, but additional griffons simply piled atop of her until she could move no more.
Salty tears borne of blood and sweat, as much theirs as her own, marred Luna’s vision. She blinked through them until she noticed another single griffon closing the distance to her over the fallen bodies of his companions. As though reviewing a body of troops, this imposing specimen moved with the tall crest of his plumage proudly on display, carrying himself with a practiced bearing that could only denote leadership. Atop his head he wore a woven crown constructed of interlocking bands of gold, complete with an opal that caught the light and a tall, red feather that stood nearly a foot at attention above his head.
The blood feather. Luna had never seen one before the beginning of the peace talks, but now she knew of the tradition of the red feather, harvested from a vanquished enemy lord and dipped in their blood to grace the brow of a griffon who would rule among his fellows. Iago, who stylized himself the current ‘griffon king’, had been appointed hastily to the role in order to bring his people together in the great united front against Equestria. His broad breast was so thick with plumage that his badges of state, which looked like little more than collections of bits welded together with ribbon attached, were pinned directly to him with neither baldric nor jacket. He carried his finery like booty from a heist, and the scar of ripped feathers that trailed down the side of his head made him look more like a thug than a ruler.
Iago took his time approaching the still-struggling princess. When his claws were but inches from her face in the grass, he tilted his head down at her, the edge of his beak pulling back in an infuriating grin.
“Princess Luna,” He rumbled. “So nice to make your acquaintance again.”
Luna hacked at the dirt that graced her lips. She brought fire to her horn again, but Iago made no move to protect himself from the sparkling light. Instead he merely raised his brow and shrugged.
“Going to kill me?” He stood back a pace and held his forelegs akimbo. “I’m waiting. Make me scream like you did those poor bastards who tried to collar you.”
Luna gritted her teeth. Her temples throbbed almost noticeably under her dark coat. White hot sparks spat from her horn as if from a blacksmith’s hammer. They rained down on the grass, burning it in places, but there was nothing further.
Iago scratched his plumage casually. “Still don’t get it, do you princess? Still so damn high and mighty that beating you once doesn’t teach you anything? We’ve got you all figured out now. And over there?” He pointed at the mountain, “It’s going to be just the same. Hocus pocus has a limit.”
Luna tried to raise her head, but a meaty foreleg crushed it back down again. She found her voice.
“Why?” She muttered, casting her eyes around at the fallen griffons. “Tell me why.”
Iago followed Luna’s eyes. Most of the injured griffons were stirring or being tended in various ways, but a few did not move. “Why?” Iago toyed, “Don’t you know?”
Luna tried again to flare her magic, but her only reward was a piercing pain in her head and a throb of blood vessels that felt on the edge of bursting. Embarrassed, she shook her head.
Iago threw back his head in a hearty laugh. “She doesn’t understand! Isn’t that great, boys?”
Myriad griffons took up the call of their master. As the joviality rolled through them, Iago issued orders to the pile atop of the princess. They parted, several rather large specimens hauling her to her hooves. Iago snapped his talons, and his lieutenant returned – bearing in his grasp another of the rubberized, locking sheathes that would separate Luna from one half of her alicorn nature.
“No!” Luna thrashed again, but the griffons needed only to increase their number to whatever was needed to keep her restrained. She spat a litany of curses, but the words came up against the armor of Iago’s pelt.
“Hold her head still,” He ordered. “Dress her back up the way she’s supposed to be dressed.”
Luna had fled the palace in haste, and thus she was bereft of any of her royal finery. If not for her sparkling mane and the elegant shape of her body she might have resembled a common pony. A claw dug into her mane between her ears and yanked her head back, bearing the softness of her jugular to the circle of predators. The collar they clasped around her neck was lightweight and flexible, but the hide was thick and bespoke well of the fusion that was griffonkind. Luna shut her eyes as she felt the sleeve slip over her horn, locking her away in an impotent cage. She would not give them the satisfaction of a defeated look.
Iago was pacing in deep thought, with one claw in a fist to his beak. He spoke, neither breaking stride nor looking at her.
“So you want to know why, huh?” He asked rhetorically. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing. It’s not because of all that high-and-mighty ‘peace’ junk that Kessen barfs up all the time.”
Luna, her leash now held by the lieutenant, stiffened. She didn’t even appear to notice when the griffons added a tight leather band around her midsection to pin her wings in place. Iago noticed her look and scoffed.
“What, is that really so surprising?” He approached her and took her under the chin, favoring her coat with the prickly sensation of his talons. “Come off it, Princess,” he chuckled. “Let’s put all the politics aside. It doesn’t suit you, and it doesn’t suit me, either. Don’t think that just because I let Kessen do all the talking that I didn’t see that look on your face across the table. He might have been ignoring it, and that dog king idiot was probably too busy thinking about new ways to molest a ruby, but I know revulsion when I see it.” His talon moved, and he left a tiny scratch on her chin. “You wanted to leap across that table and rip my throat out.”
Luna tried in vain to pull away, “And what if I did? Is that not to be expected of an adversary?”
Iago couldn’t contain another hearty laugh. “See that? That’s what I like about you! You’re a bird of prey. Just like me. You used to be an evil monster, until your sister tamed you. Now, you’re just being given over from one master to another.”
“M-my sister is not my—”
“The whole institution is your master, Luna,” Iago cut her off. “You’re a wild black mustang that needs a strong claw to smack you down. Not some posh peace-coddling.”
“You and I are nothing alike,” Luna hissed. “Save for our mutual desire to end one another.”
Iago tickled Luna’s chin and grinned. “We could make sweet music together, you know. You don’t have to be my demeaned little pet. You could give yourself to me willingly.”
Luna opened her mouth to spit at him, but the moment she parted her lips, Iago rammed his beak forcefully into them, prying them open in a kiss between pony muzzle and griffon beak that Luna stumbled clumsily through. Her handler held firm to the leash, forcing her forward as Iago’s head tilted. Luna was appalled to see his eyes close. A griffon king. A consummate hunter, who knew never to take his eyes away from an opponent, was insulting her by doing so now. A pang of anger over the fact that he would take her so lightly forced her to action. She pulled her tongue back into her mouth, and as he went on pursuit, she bit down as hard as she could.
A shock of pain caused Iago to retreat, wrenching his head away from hers. To his credit, he never cried out. Luna was yanked nearly off her hooves by the choking leash for her trouble, but Iago stuck out a claw to stay her handler’s wrath. Shaking his head sharply, the griffon king opened his beak and dabbed a talon inside. It came back bloody.
To the surprise of all present, Iago began to laugh.
“Never much cared for a weak kiss myself!” Iago roared, passion flaring in his eyes as he fluttered his wings proudly. “You prove my point, Princess Luna. Silks and lace and elegant crowns just aren’t your style!”
Luna bared her teeth, unfettered by the lack of Nightmare Moon’s fangs, “Release me!”
“More!” Iago shouted.
“Release me or I will destroy you!”
“Louder!”
“RELEASE ME, fiend, or by my word on the tombs of the fallen, I will not stop until I have one day licked the copper of your blood from my hoof!”
“Excellent!” Iago cried. Snatching the leash away from his bewildered lieutenant, the griffon king howled again in approval at his pet’s threatening words. He yanked until he was muzzle to beak with The Moon, and shouted his words despite the proximity of her ears.
“Do you want to know why they’re willing to die in droves, just to rush you and bring you down? Because every griffon here is being paid a princess’s ransom for every piece of you they bring in! Do you know why you can’t defeat us? It’s because you ponies don’t understand us!”
Iago yanked until Luna was forced to cough against the stranglehold around her neck. He went on-
“Know thy enemy, warrior princess, isn’t that the first rule of war? But you don’t know your enemy at all! You haughty ponies talk about how all dogs are gem-encrusted idiots, minotaurs are disorganized nomads, and griffons thrive off of nothing but greed. And you know what? You’re right . You as much as say it, but you’re so self-absorbed with your sweet notions of friendship and acceptance than you won’t believe it. My men are here because they’re going to fly away from here richer than they’ve ever been in their gray little lives, and to them, that’s worth it! Your land? Your resources? Your bits? Ha! If it weren’t for the alliance, my brothers and sisters would pick your subjects dry of every last scrap!”
Iago shoved, and Luna topped roughly onto her back in the dirt. Above her, blotting out the vague haze of the sun, the griffon king loomed-
“But we won’t do that. I won’t allow my people to do that, because we’d just end up making another Griffonstone out of Canterlot. Kessen might be a bag of piss and wind, but he’s right . He knows it. I know it. Even that smelly canine in the palace basement knows it. So we follow him, the dogs get shiny baubles to gawk at, and we get enough hard currency to satisfy our lust. So we can stay in power forever without destroying ourselves.”
Luna squinted up at her adversary. “So that’s truly all you griffons care about…mere coin…”
“Mere? Mere?” Iago’s brow darkened. “That’s one hell of a thing to say, Little Miss Moon. Griffonstone is garbage . You don’t know what our lives are like. You don’t know us at all.” He nodded at some of his gathered troops. “Tie her down. The way I told you before.”
No fewer than eight griffon guards set upon Luna. They flipped her over and bound her limbs tightly to stakes that had been rammed into the dirt. Her tail was tied up against the small of her back as well, and a loop around her head bound it to her forelegs. When they were finished, Luna was immobilized with her chin on the back of her hooves, her forelegs in the dirt, and her rump, unguarded by her tail, pointing towards the noonday sun.
Iago reached out for Luna’s plush backside and roughly caressed it. He took in a lewd breath. “Mmm, smell that sweaty workhorse. I’m gonna enjoy this.”
To a chorus of lewd catcalls from the surrounding griffons, Iago slide atop his new mate and made himself at home mounting her. At length she felt the tapered spire of his drakehood prodding between the cleft of her rump, but the griffon king did not pierce her right away. Instead he planted his claws in the grass to either side of her head and reached down until his beak was near her ear. His words were so hushed they were almost tender.
“Now you know why they die, princess. But do you know why I lead them to their deaths? Because for every griffon I lose, I get a bounty ten times the size every one of them gets for a day’s work. You see, they’re worth more dead to me than alive. And you? You’re just a perk.”
As he spoke, Iago’s tip, dribbling with lubrication to coat and weaken Luna’s defenses, found its mark and began to paint her opening. “You belong to me now, so get used to the idea. You’re gonna lay here and take it like a hen, in front of my troops, and then you’re going to be led home with a bellyful of my seed. You’re gonna spend a lot of years too heavy to fly, until you’re so used to being a breeder that you’ll be in this position every night when I come to bed just out of habit. But don’t worry-“ Iago grunted as he began to pierce his prize, “-I won’t lord peace over you. I know you don’t really give a damn about peace. I’ll treat you so rough that you’ll be up on your haunches begging me to hit you harder. That’s what you really want.”
Luna bucked, but her hips did little more than wiggle around his girth, causing Iago to mutter deliciously as he slid in deeper. She felt his feline scrotum brush her perineum, as he lifted his forelegs from the ground and planted them on her back. He used the leverage to push up atop her as he pulled his hips back, only to ram himself again straight into her core.
Luna could not prevent a whimper from escaping her lips. All around she felt their eyes on her, and as King Iago built himself into a rhythm, she pictured herself beneath him, properly mounted and accepting him as he went about the business of his own pleasure. At length her flower began to open, as visions of a phantom stallion bringing her to her knees in private began to dance through her exhausted inebriation.
“Ngh…s-see…” Iago muttered as slapping noises arose from their coupling, “…you don’t want some diplomatic wuss. You need fire. You need me.”
“…ngghhh…hahhnnghh…”
Exhausted and long deprived, Luna gave up on physical resistance and focused upon the war in her mind. She fought to stay afloat on the tides of pleasure her captor pressed into her. Eventually she found no choice but to detach herself – to hide away in her own head while she let her body betray her in full.
“…gnnh!”
Luna’s femininity bloomed, and Iago built himself into a frenzy of breeding lust. As many of his troops clamored in for the show, stepping over the bodies of the fallen that they would no longer have to compete with for bits, Iago slammed into the deepest part of his prize. He held himself there, emptying his churning testicles in burst after pent-up burst of thick griffon seed.
When Iago was finished with the business of drakes, he flopped down atop Luna, treating himself to the use of her body as a pillow. He flexed his girth inside of her a few more times, driving his presence home, and enjoyed a few pecks from his sharp beak into the yielding coat of her neck. The lieutenant produced a bit and fitted it into Luna’s mouth, effectively silencing her as the king lounged atop her, playing with her mane as he shared inconsequential stories with his companions.
Iago did not remove himself from his mate’s breeding channel until he was ready to get off of her entirely. Had she possessed the ability to speak Luna might have requested the dignity of being taken back to the palace under her own power, but bound and gagged they denied her even that – instead, her hooves were tied to a pole that two strong griffons carried in the air between them, the princess hanging helplessly upside down as they went.
The entire flight home, Princess Luna stared at the backside of King Iago, watching his tail and his fuzzy scrotum swing in the breeze. She wondered how many more times she would be made his partner, and if he could even make good on his promise to mate with her in the first place. Certainly he would try, and certainly this would not be the last time she would accept him.
Fire burned behind Luna’s eyes. The fire of Nightmare Moon. She could feel her alter-ego, fast asleep…but never gone.
She wondered which among evils was truly the greater.
Celestia wondered how long it had taken for her to become noseblind to the sweet scent of honey ambrosia.
‘Ambrosia’ being an ambiguous term, she wasn’t entirely certain what was in the drink beyond the obvious, pungent sweetness of too much honey. She sometimes detected a hint of spearmint or even lime, but the alcohol volume of the brew produced fumes intense enough to burn her sinuses so badly, it left her wondering if her muzzle was playing tricks on her. There had been a time where she detected so many strange fruit or spice scents from it that she reasoned the drink might have no specific recipe at all.
Whatever was in honey ambrosia, Celestia found the concoction offensive, and she imbibed the drink on a regular basis merely to save face. It was apparently a steppe favorite of wandering minotaurs, but in the past six months, it had also become popular with the griffons and diamond dogs who populated Canterlot. There was simply no escaping the drink, but to Celestia’s credit, she had become quite adept at carrying goblets of it balanced on crystal trays atop her head.
On one particular evening, Celestia found the tray removed and quickly replaced by heavy fingers that tousled the hair between her ears. She had been allowed to let her flowing locks partially free again because it pleased her master to see them, but her mane and tail both remained tightly tied by bells and ribbon approximately two-thirds of the way down. Her hair was thus left to puff up and wriggle against its bonds over and over, like a balloon that was being constantly filled and emptied of air. Her garments were otherwise no different from the first day she had been graced with them – her sheer veil, the flowing, transparent silks, and the collar of unity clasped about her neck were required attire in public. Elegant stockings were a rule as well, and she had a closet full of different pairs to accommodate.
The large hand slipped down to her chin, affectionately scratching her there as if she were a cat. It then cupped her cheek and tugged lightly three times. With the cool moon bathing her back through a high stone window, Celestia obeyed the wordless command and settled herself between her master’s legs. A moment later, the tip of her muzzle was brushing against a thick, proud erection that was most likely a product of the loosening drink and the evening’s revelry. Like a toy set to automatic, Celestia discreetly silenced herself upon her master’s penis, sliding it down her maw with practiced poise until the sweet-smelling air was replaced by the scent of his musky stomach fur. She took in a deep, familiar breath, and began a slow suckling pace – she knew her master was simply relaxing after a fine party. It wouldn’t do to rush him.
Kessen the First, Emperor of Equestria, lounged in a tall throne that sat on a raised dais just above a set of long tables. The piles of pillows that once adorned the dais had been replaced with seating that more befitted a minotaur’s frame, but they were not absent. On warm nights such as these, when wine and entertainment were the natural conclusion to a tiresome day of governance, the entire throne room was converted into a banquet hall for the elite, and the pillows that once held equine royalty were available to any in attendance who desired to rest upon them.
Mixed in with the pillows and the fine flatware was a ghoulish smattering of bones from wild game beasts – a staple of the carnivorous diet that was now prevalent among the Equestrian elite. Torches set around the perimeter of the chamber added their flickering luminescence to the night sky, bathing the discarded remains of a feast and the cavorting of three converging harems in unearthly light.
Kessen continued to ruffle his pet’s mane, but he did not favor her with a look or word of appreciation. To pleasure him, at any time, in any place, was simply her lot. He was pleased with how she’d taken to it, but there was no reason to fuel his possession’s ego too much. In his other hand he swirled a golden goblet of honey ambrosia. He took a deep breath from the goblet, savoring the succulent scent before indulging in a sip. The sharp alcohol hit him, and his words came on a long exhale-
“I wonder, Iago, how much longer it will be before you realize we are at peace.”
Halfway down the long table to Kessen’s left sat Iago, the griffon king. Iago had always insisted upon the spot closest to the windows; Kessen attributed the quirk to the habits of flying creatures, preferring to not be far from the freedom of the sky. As with Kessen, Iago had a number of ponies in attendance who once made up the Canterlot elite. Now dressed in harem finery, their duty was to keep his goblet full and his ego well groomed. Iago had just finished sharing a deep kiss with a turquoise mare who had poured him more wine, but it did nothing to soften the crispness of his posture.
“You look like a gargoyle, perching like that,” Kessen observed. “What example do you set for your birds?”
Iago took no offense to the term, for he himself had coined it. ‘Birds’ was the designation for his personal guard squadron, who had successfully preyed upon and brought down the mighty Princess Luna so many months ago. Iago’s brow went up.
“A better one than you’re setting,” the griffon king replied impertinently. “What’s wrong with constant diligence? Did you forget about the P.R.E?”
Kessen swiped an apple from a passing tray carried by a servant and bit down half of it in one gulp He chuckled as he watched his pet dutifully pleasure him. “Ah yes, the ‘Pony’s Republic of Equestria.’ Not a very imaginative name, is it.”
Iago made a face – fresh produce bore flavors he didn’t care for. Once upon a time Kessen didn’t either, but Iago noticed that as the minotaur acclimated to his new society, it seemed some of it was rubbing off on him. As usual, the griffon king felt no shame sharing his opinion, even in the face of his emperor-
“We should have kept the momentum going. Every day we delay, we’re giving those coastal cities time to gain power. To oppose us.”
Kessen lazily counted the major players off on his fingers. “Manehattan. Baltimare. Fillydelphia. Your fear them that much, do you?”
“And Appleoosa in the south!” Iago growled. “I’ve asked you before, Kessen, and I’ll ask you again. Why do we delay? We should blitz them all and destroy them, just like we did here!”
Kessen rolled his eyes dramatically. “Appleoosa is an isolated farming community in the deep south. The coastal cities can call themselves whatever they desire, but we firmly hold Equestria, as we have since the day of peace. You know as well as I do that our forces have systematically brought down Cloudsdale, Ponyville, and everything in between from Neighagra Falls to Las Pegasus.”
“The Crystal Empire is on the other side of Neighagra Falls,” Iago rumbled, scratching at the scar on the side of his head with a claw as he drained his goblet in one fell drag with the other. “We’re giving the coastal cities time to ally with them. The other elemental keepers are in Manehattan, and they have the ear of Princess Cadance. The war-“
Kessen slammed his fist into the arm of his chair so hard, even Iago jumped. It was all Celestia could do not to accidentally bite him, but she kept her eyes averted and her task on her mind. The minotaur lord flexed inside her mouth – she swirled her tongue, placating him as best she could.
“The war is already over,” Kessen said simply. “Those magic items you speak of are locked safely away in dog caverns so myriad, the dogs themselves likely cannot even decipher them. There is but one princess remaining, and she rules over a tiny nation that lacks the military might for a major engagement against us. The ‘Ponies Republic of Equestria’ is an undefined conglomeration of coastal cities populated by shopkeepers and miscreants.”
“B-but-“
“Patience, Iago,” Kessen sat back again, and Celestia was pleased to feel the muscles of his powerful thighs slacken. “We have only recently subdued this territory. We are spread too thinly as it is, and our message has not touched all of the ponies in the lands we control. We will wait until we have truly solidified our hold here, and the populace has accepted us as peers in their daily lives. Farmers and civilians removed from a conflict tire of war quickly. Leave their families and children largely unmolested, and the idea of renewing hostilities will prove unpopular.”
“…that could take years…”
“And what if it does?” Kessen snorted and waved his arm dramatically though the room, “Have I not provided your birds with everything they desired? You have more bits than you know what to do with, and Griffonstone is now a prosperous protectorate of our new Equestria. Even the dogs have all that they could ever have want—“ Kessen paused as his eye turned to an empty chair on the opposite side of the table from Iago. “…where is the dog king?”
Iago merely pointed to a large pile of satin pillows that had been hastily gathered in a corner of the room. The attendants of the dog king were mulling about uncertainly as he helped himself to a chocolate brown mare. Properly mounted behind the elegant specimen, he was simply taking her, roughly pounding her backside with his paws firmly planted on her hips.
“…nrgh…p-pony…I am king…my pony…”
The mare was panting softly, but she was not struggling. Clearly this was not her first time copulating with her canine overlord.
Iago looked droll. “I thought you were only going to give him one pony.”
Kessen let out a hearty bellow. He laid his hand on the back of Celestia’s head – it was her signal to hold still so he could control the next several thrusts at his own depth and pace. He tested her gag reflex, and when she passed, he let her back to doing the work herself. “Now, now, Iago, ponies are not property to give. Well, unless they are symbols of the former hierarchy. It began with removing the chief figureheads of state, and showing the populace that they were willing to service us. It trickles down from there to the landed gentry.”
“You’re putting a lot of trust in having all these ponies around,” Iago muttered.
Kessen reached down to caress Celestia’s cheek. “Do not blame the rest of us for your interest in the feisty princess. Mine has taken to her training well, though I ultimately had no need to trust her without her sheath. Is that not correct, Celestia?”
Celestia mumbled, sending a pleasant reverberation across the veins of her master’s spire.
Iago smirked. “You just got lucky. The sun and moon started working on their own again, because that other princess had just as much to lose from them not working as we did.”
Celestia suppressed a smile. She had always wondered if it were possible for another alicorn to take over the duties of sun and moon. Cadance had far more tenacity than even Celestia had given her credit for, if she had been able to step up to the task and succeed at it.
Iago folded his forelegs and watched with disinterest as the dog king took his charge. “My birds need something to do,” he complained. “There’s too much peace.”
“You will keep them under control,” Kessen warned. Satisfied that his caveat had been delivered, the emperor softened and let out a small grunt, shifting on his throne to provide his pet’s hoof with a soft pair of testicles to massage. “You’re too uptight, Iago. This is a party and we’re about to have entertainment, provided by our very own king of canines. Make yourself comfortable.”
Iago finally cracked a devilish smile. His favorite pet was feisty indeed, and that’s what he liked about her. The other princesses were simply too…flaccid. He let out a whistle, as though calling an animal to his side.
“Luna! Attend me!”
The Moon took her time of obeying. Emerging from an antechamber where she sat awaiting her master’s summons, she sauntered out; the clack of her hooves softened by the long stockings that ran up past her knees. She was adorned just as Celestia was, with her mane and tail bobbing like fishing weights against their partial bonds, and a sheer violet veil before her lips. Her feathery, flexible collar was locked as firmly in place as the suppressor over her horn. Like her fellow former princesses, a choice few of her primary feathers had been removed – strategically clipped to rob her of flight while still retaining the elegant beauty of her wings. The moment she was close enough, Iago took her hard under the chin and bore into her with his stare.
“I don’t like weak pets,” Iago simmered. “I want you to look at me when I’m addressing you.”
Luna kept her eyes infuriatingly downcast. Knowing what was to come, another pony attendant was already stroking Iago’s drakehood to life, favoring it with tender kisses as it rose to meet her. Iago chuckled, his eyes still only on Luna.
“Don’t ever change, Nightbird,” He smiled. “I’d be so bored. We’ll make you fat with hippogriff babies yet.”
With that, he reared his claw back and smacked Luna right across the cheek. Kessen had a look of disapproval for his companion’s abject cruelty, but he ignored Iago’s methods and began to call for the entertainment.
Beyond the griffon king’s notice, Celestia opened one eye and fixed her little sister with a commanding stare. Luna finally rose to meet Iago’s eyes. She swallowed and reached a hoof between her hind legs, making certain he could see the movement.
“Yes…Master.”
Iago grinned and patted Luna too hard on the cheek. “Down.”
Luna dipped her head down, as though lowering herself to drink from a clear spring, and took over for the other servant. Slowly she allowed Iago’s girth to fill her cheeks.
Kessen spoke. “I have studied the Canterlot archives, and I believe it is indeed possible for our pets to grow heavy with our progeny. However, the seed does not plant itself easily. It will take many breedings.”
“You talk like that’s a problem,” Iago replied, his attention still on Luna’s supple curves. He slapped her rump just to do so. “When it comes to that, I got nothin’ but time.”
Kessen placed a hand on Celestia’s shoulder, signaling her to slow down. She had begun to instinctively work him towards release, but he was not yet ready to end the evening’s revelry. He spoke to her, encouraging her to look up at him while her lips were still fully involved.
“This why you are mine, and mine alone,” Kessen told her. “And your sister belongs to another of your rulers. When your time comes to grow heavy, it will be with my seed, and our progeny shall know which of us is the better example to follow.”
“All except for King ‘King’,” Iago chimed in as Luna worked him. “I don’t think he gives a damn who bangs his princess. Just so long as she learns how to dance with shiny gems all over her.”
The dog king couldn’t have missed the remark. But he was sitting up against a wall now, his erection twitching, as two mares took to the task of licking him clean. All of his ponies were decked out in garish headdresses, encrusted sloppily with heavy gems from the mines.
“Indeed,” Kessen agreed. He clapped his hands again. “Speaking of which, fill the goblets and bring in the entertainment!”
Servants scurried about the throne room, which had become a private chamber where Kessen and his lords hid their nightly debauchery. Stepping lightly and led by an entourage of mares that jingled with rough canine finery, Twilight Sparkle graced the room with an uncharacteristically athletic step. She was adorned with twice as many bells as her counterparts, such that she could barely flick an ear without sending a melodious tune throughout the room. Her silks and stockings were virginally white, but they held within them a mare who was anything but – Twilight’s heavy stomach was sagging with a burden that the dog king often proudly declared to be his, but considering his willingness to share his pet even with other ponies, the claim’s authenticity had long been in question. Nobody doubted that the king himself believed it, of course.
Twilight’s headdress was mercifully little more than a tiara, sparing her the heavy weight of solid gems upon her brow. Her eyelids were deep, royal blue, her lashes curled, and the veil over her muzzle was so thin, she had no freedom to wear any expression other than the sly grin she had been practicing in the mirror.
Twilight hadn’t been allowed near a book since the finalizing of the peace treaty. Instead, what time hadn’t been spent in service to her master was instead devoted to rigorous training in the art of making a spectacle out of herself for his amusement. The dog king wasn’t much different from his subjects in his appreciation for pretty possessions, and thus, Twilight’s mind had been allowed to dull slightly in favor of strengthening her limbs for the art of dance. With a select cadre of ponies already skilled in the performing arts retained to guide her, she had picked up on the task with her usual studiousness, and in short months she’d grown into quite the expert. She had the potential to become as much of a virtuoso as she was in magic, but dance held no appeal to her beyond a means to an end.
Twilight tried to catch the eye of Celestia or Luna, but both were too involved in their tasks. Celestia still held Kessen in her mouth, and had shut her eyes to whimper in response to the re-insertion of the golden anal plug she now wore often. Luna had received a yank from her master for her trouble, until she was up on her haunches and properly straddling him. He took her lips roughly with his sharp beak, obliging Luna to accept the inevitable, blood-drawing pinch she always received whenever Iago got a little rowdy. The griffon king placed his claws on her shoulders and gave her a firm push – it was the signal to lower herself onto his waiting drakehood. In private she might have put disapproving body language into the act, but in the presence of her sister, Luna merely lowered herself until Iago’s hips met hers, his spire deeply within her.
As the lords of the manor settled into their pleasure, their attention turned one-by-one to Twilight. Even the dog king joined in the ogling, as he panted softly and ruffled the mane of an attendant mare who had settled her muzzle between his legs.
Twilight moved. Bereft of magic and robbed of flight, the Princess of Friendship traced every step of her routine the earth pony way. Before her hooves had as much as moved, she was already at the end of the performance and starting anew in her mind. The steps had become so routine that she could execute them with as much grace as a sheet of long-division problems, but she kept her smile broad, and flipped her mane provocatively as she leapt upon the tables, servants clearing a space for her muted, stockinged hooves to fall. Stockings had become more than a fashion statement within the borders of the palace – they were a requirement. Kessen’s psychological retraining of the equine populace went so far as to divorce them even from the familiar sound of their clacking hooves upon the stone floors.
There were no musicians, nor did Twilight require any. Her outfit was a masterwork of subtle symphonic design, the like of which spoke strongly of the new Equestrian society. The mark of her brethren was clearly upon it, but the fine silks sported a clever deployment of bells and chimes, both visible and non, that sang with exotic steppe melodies. It was impractical for everyday use, but in the hooves of a trained performer, each and every move was a fantastic amalgamation not only of pleasing sights, but sounds to match.
Twilight ‘played’ her silks like an opus, but her attention was not on the routine steps of the dance. The moon was high and bright, and the sky was the clearest it had been all week. It was all the princesses could do to subtly encourage their masters to conduct the business of private parties on nights when the moon could provide sufficient light and visibility across the countryside. Tonight was one such night, and Twilight wasn’t about her miss her opportunity.
As Twilight gyrated her heavy belly, she cast a glance at Celestia out of the corner of her eye. The former sun princess returned the look for but a second before refocusing her attention on her emperor’s pleasure, but the momentary glance told Twilight all she needed to know. Out there, somewhere on the horizon, a spy waited. He was in danger for his life, but his mission was clear – to return to the Crystal Empire with the latest news of the movements of Emperor Kessen. He would stay at his post until he had something to return with, and Twilight would provide it.
Twilight flowed like water, bending and twisting in ways that her previous self would scarce have attempted. Her savant-level intelligence sharpened – as she moved, every flip of her tail and twist of her legs took on new purpose. To the tune of her clattering bells, Twilight turned portions of her body to and fro in the light of the moon, strategically exposing the many gems that adorned her to the light of the moon in short and long bursts. In her thoughts, she counted the cadence of Morse code, following every letter of every word she dispatched for Princess Cadance’s eyes to review the following morning.
Twilight’s communication to the north continued until the dog king’s libido overtook his already dull sensibilities. Inevitably the canine ruler was drawn in the allure of his pet, and leapt up upon the table himself to quench his need for her. With even less tact than his royal counterparts, the king thought nothing of marching about with his erection bobbing in the breeze, nor did it concern him when he simply bent his pony onto her knees to mount her.
Twilight knew better than to resist. If the clandestine movements of her fellow conspirators were ever to succeed, it was absolutely imperative to behave as if their operations did not exist. Twilight allowed her chin to be lowered to the table. She lifted her tail for the dog king and wiggled her rump enticingly, until she felt the familiar stretching of her feminine opening to accept his claim upon her.
With the song of her subterfuge complete, Twilight’s ears perked at the many sounds in the room. Kessen and Iago were long since locked in the pleasure of their toys. Celestia was playing her role to the hilt – now openly riding the broad minotaur, she raised her muzzle to the ceiling of her throne room and cried out passionately, grinding her hips into him to the tune of slick slaps of love.
Luna was laying at Iago’s side. Her channel was leaking with his sticky musk, and she seemed utterly exhausted from the intensity of her joining with him. Iago himself was blatantly necking with a griffon hen. As was his habit, he sat his goblet atop Luna’s body, where he expected her to hold it carefully aloft until he came to claim it again.
Twilight tensed. While the fall of her homeland had been a blow not easily absorbed, she felt that it brought about a deepening of her relationship with the royal sisters that transcended anything they had before. Three former princesses turned harem pets, they were also a trio of diligent conspirators who had pledged to work in the shadows of plain sight, day and night for as long as it took to bring about change. At first their conversations had been harsh and argumentative, with Luna and Twilight favoring a more direct course of action. It had ultimately been Celestia herself who had quashed any talk of making martyrs out of the new ruling class by murdering them in their sleep.
Twilight’s ears dropped as her recent memories played on. She felt shame for the cruel things she had accused her mentor of, up to and including siding with their enemy. Celestia’s wisdom had once again proved to humble her student. The three of them would act, but they would have to proceed with such subtlety that no mind, no matter how cold and calculating, could ever find them out. Thus the princesses had each accepted their training to be ideal pets, with every affront and violation that came with it.
Twilight flexed her blooming marehood and gripped her partner as he pulsed inside her. She thought of her friends and wondered what their daily lives were like now. She too was fighting the good fight, but there was a guilty pleasure she knew she could never speak of to any of them, if she ever saw them again. It was a pleasure the three princesses, stressed as they were with each passing day, all shared.
The truth was…not every moan, nor every orgasm, was fake.
* * * * *
Twilight felt the familiar caress of her mentor’s hoof upon her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open. For a moment the world was a wash of blurry color, but everything soon coalesced into the surroundings of the palace throne room as she brought her eyes into focus. She glanced at her mentor above her and made to stand, but a heavy weight barred the act. She felt the oscillations of breathing, and found the dog king fast asleep upon the dining table, using her gem-clad rump as a pillow. Twilight stared at the peacefully sleeping king until Celestia’s voice finally broke her reverie.
“You do not hate him, do you.”
Twilight shook her head without looking up. “I…feel like I should, but…not exactly, no. I hate what he’s been a part of, but all his people wanted were shiny jewels. They don’t even use them as money or anything. They just like to stare at them.” Twilight swallowed. “How many of them did Kessen talk into dying in battle just for that? I bet if we had just given them some jewels in the first place, they would have been just as happy.”
“Even when he takes your body, still you do not hate him?” Celestia led. Twilight looked down at her swell and ran her hoof across it.
“I…don’t think it’s even his,” Twilight replied obliquely. “They keep me away from the library on purpose, but I can still find research materials here and there. No matter what Kessen says, I’m not convinced any of them can actually breed with us.”
“Breeding with royalty solidifies your place in a royal line,” Celestia replied. “We don’t know for certain that they can, but neither can we be certain that they cannot. It is therefore a rush for Kessen and Iago to stake their claims. For your master, however…” Celestia managed a look of whimsy, “I think it is just plain fun.”
Twilight gently extracted herself from the dog king and laid his head softly upon the table. Kessen and Iago were still at their seats. All three self-made monarchs were lost in inebriated dreams.
“They’re so…peaceful,” Twilight observed as she hopped carefully from the table, so as to minimize the sounds of her outfit. She felt a warm sensation oozing down her thigh. She glanced at Celestia’s backside, and found both the same weeping from her flower, and the gilded plug still in her rump. “He didn’t say you had to wear that all night this time, did he?”
“Only when I have not pleased him,” Celestia replied. “I’ll remove in when we retire.”
“Then it is a wonder you wear it at all, Sister.”
The voice was Luna’s, and the two princesses turned to find The Moon, who had risen from her exhaustion. Her master was by far the roughest of the three, and it showed in the love bites and other marks that marred Luna’s coat. Luna turned towards Iago and gritted her teeth.
“Luna,” Celestia warned, “Stay yourself.”
Luna spoke through a hiss, “It is all I ever do anymore, staying myself. What if they are correct, Sister? What if this…creature’s seed ultimately finds its mark?”
Celestia ignored the edge in her sister’s tone. “Then we shall endeavor to bring your child into the same world we hope for Twilight’s. One that is as it once was.”
Luna concentrated. The sheath upon her head did nothing, but it was not difficult to imagine the sparkle of the horn beneath. “We could bring about change right now…”
Luna felt a hoof upon her shoulder. Unexpectedly she found Twilight there. The smaller alicorn’s eyes were full of sympathy, and her voice was soft.
“Princess Luna, please…don’t. I know how difficult this all is, but Princess Celestia is right. My friends are with the P.R.E., and my brother and Princess Cadance are still in the Crystal Empire. We have to do what we can here, and just trust them.”
Luna let go of her malice and bowed her head, refusing to look at her companions. “It is perhaps the most difficult battle to fight…one without arms. Good evening.”
Luna disappeared down the hall on her way to the communal pet quarters without another word. Celestia came up beside Twilight, and the two of them surveyed the remains of the party. Amidst them lay the sleeping creatures who now held their own kind of court in Canterlot Palace throne room. Twilight turned her eyes to the northern sky. Again she touched her bulging belly.
“I…I just…”
Celestia stroked Twilight’s withers. “Shh, my student. You have endured many things. Your heart is as pure as the day I met you – the proof is in the lack of malice you feel towards the being who takes your body and bends you to his will every day. I know you will overcome this.”
“I just…” Twilight stammered softly, “…I’m pregnant now, I never thought…”
Celestia’s stroking intensified. She cupped Twilight’s cheek, turned her muzzle to her, and took her student’s lips with all the sensuality of a group party in the presence of their lords. When the kiss broke, Twilight’s cheeks were hot and her eyes were bewildered.
“…P-princess Celestia…?”
Celestia smoothed back her student’s mane and smiled wanly at her. “I must protect the lives of my subjects at all costs. My sister knows this. As do you. But you were my subject too once, Twilight. I ask you to endure. To accept your master’s orders, lie with him, receive his seed, and obey him as you would me. It may take a long time, but there will be a brighter day. When it comes, we will welcome it as welcome the morning sun that your sister-in-law now graces us with.”
Twilight managed a soft smile. “…y-yes Princess Celestia.”
Celestia leaned in and whispered in Twilight’s ear-
“I have lived a long time, and I have seen many things – things worse even than this. We will overcome. In the meantime, not every moment is pure agony, is it? Never let them break you, my student.”
With that, the enigmatic Sun trotted slowly from the room. Twilight stood in as much awe of her mentor as ever – Celestia’s patience seemed to know no bounds. Even in such a situation, she managed to maintain a positive air to project upon the ponies who still looked up to her.
Twilight straightened her tiara, gathered her silks, favored the dog king with a last look, and walked from the room.
If her mentor could endure, then so could she.
