Gray Rock

The Main Six

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

Pinkie looked at her fellow Bearers lit only by a single candle in the middle of the table, raised a defiant fist and announced, "Now we are agreed. Tomorrow, nopony asks Gray Rock for odd jobs, and the day after tomorrow," Pinkie said and extended a hand to her fellow Bearers, "We throw the most excellenest, partytastic 'Welcome to Ponyville' Party Equestria has ever seen." The assembled Bearers clasped hands and hurrahed, completely missing Spike's facepalm as he considered another Pinkie Plan encountering the alien's convoluted understanding of ponies.

Journal Entry Day 23

My transition specialist Clear Brook has suggested I keep a journal, which I knew would be reviewed by her and the Royal staff. And I have been, they are paying for my upkeep so an hour or so of writing every day seems more than fair. But after a couple weeks, the writing bug bit me and I want to keep another journal, of my private thoughts and experiences. I may show this to someone, I refuse to say 'somepony', or it may only be released when they go over my grave goods.

To start, I don't know how I got here. Since I arrived around the time of Nightmare's defeat, the assumption is the wild magic ripped open a portal and I came through. All in all, it isn't a bad theory, since Nightmare is trapped in my head and 'irrevocably tied to my lifeforce', which means as long as I'm alive, it's trapped, and with no native magic, it can't turn me into Nightmare Gray Rock! let the mortals tremble and the vibratos sound!

So the ponies have a vested interest in me not dying. Although I suggested in my other journal that petrifying me in stone would make the imprisonment permanent, and the resulting careful, and supposedly spontaneous, explanation by Balustrade, the military aide overseeing me, pointed out that Princess Celestia would never do something like that. As you can guess, it was a gambit to verify that he and Clear Brook were indeed reading the other journal.

Side note, some of you may wonder at the mind games I've already alluded to, and the name Gray Rock may give others a clue. My childhood was not a pleasant one. Before I was really aware of anything, my two, oldest half-sisters were already at each others' throats from my mother constantly placing one as 'the pretty one' and the other as 'the smart one', then often putting the other down because they weren't the first. Sorry, I keep writing things that only make sense to me. Jerika was pretty and older, so when she did anything dumb or just not up to standards, 'why couldn't you be as smart as Markeesia?', and Markeesia it was 'why can't you be as pretty/easy to find clothes for, etc. as Jerika?'

Two cats in a pot of boiling water wouldn't have fought as savagely as my two half-sisters, much to my mother's delight. I learned about the psychological trick of being a gray rock, making myself so uninteresting and drama-resistant that the psychopaths go elsewhere for their fix. That my mother and older half-sisters did the same 'let's you and her fight' shaping to my two, younger half-sisters means that when I found myself surrounded by aliens who were frightened or angry, or both, I realized I was in a healthier place than my home on Earth. So if you're expecting me to spurg out about missing my family, my friends, my mp3 player, etc. Don't. I enjoy my sanity and emotional tranquility more. Besides, as soon as I turned 18, I was going to join the Air Force, Army, Coast Guard, Navy, Marines or Peace Corp whichever would get me out of there. So that I suddenly found myself drafted into the Terran Diplomatic Corps in an alien world was fine.

That isn't to say the ponies here aren't all completely crazy, but at least there's a variety, and unlike my mother, I'm more than a welfare check, so they either do care about me, or they're a lot better at faking it than my mother ever was.

The other point of interest from a nearly 18-year-old male, they aren't quadrupeds. There's probably a word for horse-legged anthromorph, but biology isn't my strong suit. As an added bonus for being more humanoid, a lot of locals have bodies you don't see outside of comic books. I know: body fuzz and butterface. The faces with muzzles aren't hideous, just alien. Clearly on the good side of the Uncanny Valley. Call me a furry, but no girls in my school were built like that, and any that were even remotely close were dating college guys with money and/or were fans of drama the way my mother was. So I'll take friendly with a side of soft, all-body fuzz over shaved and eat you up and spit you out anytime, any place, and any how.

Like I said, the crazy varies. Rainbow is the only one who feels like home, to her detriment. The day after they'd defeated Nightmare, the day I arrived, she attacked me out of the blue, kicked me so hard in the side the impact broke my arm on the other side when I landed on it, now I know what a greenstick fracture is, and dislocated eight of my ribs on the kicked side. Getting those popped back in was a new experience of pain. Now I would have been okay with the whole misunderstanding, considering I found out I was harboring Nightmare Moon, except that was her method of greeting for the next few days.

WHAM! And I'm lying face down in the mud of Sweet Apple Acres.

"You really need to watch your back Gray Rock!" Rainbow said as she laughed.

"Rainbow!" Rarity sounded off, "You were asked not to do that."

"Agreed too," Applejack added and glared at the laughing mare before glancing at the two ponies in hoodies.

"Aww come on, it's just a bit of fun," Rainbow said, making no attempt to help me up. Applejack did while Rarity fussed with the sling and got it around my arm again.

"Actually," one of the hooded ponies said, and lowered her hood, "Guarding him is a Bearer's job."

"Now Cap'n Spitfire," Applejack began, "Rainbow didn't mean nothin'."

"Yes," Spitfire said, as she pulled a folder from her saddlebags. Rainbow's name was prominent across the front. "But, she's also proved something else." She tore the folder in half.

Rainbow squalled like she'd had a wing torn off.

Clear Brook lowered her hood and stared at the assembled ponies. "I think the supposition was correct, this was a mate-guarding behavior. Driving off a competitor. Her increased aggression towards Miss Applejack also might stem from a similar source."

The mare in question tilted her head. "Twi? How'd you get a pegasus suit?" Applejack asked and smirked at the grinning Clear Brook.

"Rainbow, a filly fooler, after - me?" Rarity gasped, then hid a chuckle at Clear Brook's wink.

"Don't get Captain Balustrade mad at'cha," Applejack said quietly. Rarity nodded. I already knew.

"What?" Rainbow squealed as she whirled in the air to face her accusers, "You can't think, you can't mean, this can't be happening!"

Turns out the Wonerbolts shred everyone's application at the end of the year, but Rainbow didn't know that. What the rest of the Bearers did with the idea Rainbow is mate-guarding Rarity I decided I didn't want to know about.

Speaking of Rarity, I've met more fashion-obsessed, but they weren't makers, only consumers. A lot of guys go naked, there being nothing loose or visible, but girls wear halters, shirts, bras, etc. because they frankly need to. So Rarity's a bit busier than canon, despite that I think Rarity would have gotten out the hot pincers and thumbscrews to learn every fashion secret from another world if I hadn't slowed her down. I'm a history nerd, so I told her about arsenic wafers to keep a pale complection, foot binding for small feet, the brass-ring giraffe look, and to give her a little hope and to keep her from bursting into tears every time she saw me, the little black dress.

Rarity's mascara was running down her face along with her tears. "That's, that's horrible!"

I shrugged. I think I overdid it, I considered.

"People had weird ideas about fashion, the really wild ones were the only ones that stick in my head," I told her.

"I can't decide which of these is the worst, possible thing!" Rarity said threw herself on a divan and broke out in sobs.

I retrieved a box of tissues from the table and let Rarity blow her nose and wipe her face. "There is one, but I know you won't like it."

"Tell me," she said, and swooned on a couch, "Then I can die of despair!"

"It's called the little, black dress. Basically it's shoulders to ankles, form-fitting . . . bespoke is what it's called, I think," I told her.

"Oh a fitted sack, how quaint," she said and sniffled before blowing her nose again.

"It's not what's added, it's what's removed that's the thing. If a woman has nice legs, you slit up the side. If she has good shoulders then they are bared with spaghetti straps or a collar around the neck."

"Can it be backless?" she asked, showing a resurgent interest.

"Yes, or armless with matching gloves," I said, "If she's got a good tummy, there may be a cut out."

"It hides the parts you want concealed by accenting what you want revealed!" Rarity said, showing a Twilightesque enthrallment with the subject and the images in her mind's eye. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, I must get to work, do you mind seeing yourself out, I really do appreciate this, if you have any good ideas please feel free to drop by, oh Fluttershy would be perfect, oh Applejack will be such a challenge and Rainbow Dash will finally be dressed in style!"

I let myself out and counted myself lucky for the escape.

I've since added the tuxedo and the cheongsam to her repertoire, but I'll parse the ideas out slowly. Pony fashion is baroque, rococo ostentation. Minimalism is hardly known and will give Rarity some bold ideas. Yes, I am a history nerd, so I know about a lot of things. I used to hide from my household at the library and the gym, not that learning or being toned got me anything, except closer to the military and getting out.

I'm going to keep back the idea of the codpiece, from what I've seen of pony fashion it would be adopted immediately. Despite the fact you can't normally see anything on a naked pony.

I mentioned Twilight. She's one of the stranger ones. To put it bluntly, she's aggressively open-minded when it comes to stallion friends. I think that's why Big Mac plays laconic to the point of muteness around her. She's easily excited and experimental, both without a willing recipient for her long-awaited glee.

Call me old fashioned, or just gunshy, but after getting blown off for years, having it treated as a science experiment is a buzzkill of epic proportions. Acting clueless is the best defense, being a buzzkiller for her. Which is why I will keep employing it.

I sat back in the library chair and stared at the tree ceiling. "Well, they give the stallion a handjob until he blows his load in a bag. They separate out the samples into small syringes, so the buyer takes it and injects it into a receptive mare," I told Twilight, "Not really very romantic at all." I sat forward and watched the effect on 'Princess Celestia's Personal Student' of missing the point, again.

Twilight was doing the frustration dance I'd seen in other ponies. Basically dozens of high speed little stomps left-right left-right, not loud, but quite noticeable. She was also making a noise like a steam whistle working up to blow.

"But what about ponies?" she asked. Too wound up in getting the question out to have listened to the answer to the previous one.

A shrug. "I would assume they'd be handled the same way as horses," I told her, "A lot of livestock breeding is carefully controlled to produce the best animals."

"No, ponies here." The self-disheveling mane was a clue I was pushing the boundaries.

"That would be between ponies," I told her, "I've seen foals so I assume it works for them culturally. But that would be a cultural and biological minefield. I mean on Earth some species eat their mates. On Earth among humans, there were the Corn Kings, who'd be an object of veneration for a year, then had his heart cut out. Too scary to think about."

With Twilight staring at me in open-mouthed amazement, I bid adieu and left. A few moments later the tree library shook to rhythmic clonking as Twilight either stomped around or more likely beat her head against the wall.

If I thought I'd survive it, and the wrath of her patron, the planetary ruler, I might scratch Twilight's itch. Big if, huge, immense, inconceivably large if. So strike that. She'll be fine once she fights another monster.

Fluttershy is another scary one, but for the exact opposite reason. Unlike Twilight, she fully understands the mechanics, a vet would, whether she has any practical experience is debatable, but the vocabulary she uses indicates either a student whose focus puts Twilight's to shame, or someone whose experience would stun all her friends.

"You know we're all alone out here," Fluttershy said as we sat just outside her cottage and she checked the bruising on my broken arm, "And you're very strong."

"I think there are stronger ponies," I told her as she tried to hide her blush behind her hair business, for the eleventh time.

"I mean if something were to happen," Fluttershy said as she carefully fitted the sling back in place, no so incidently stroking my arm, "No one would rush in and inter - fere. Someone could come in and tie me up and there'd be no one to stop them."

"I'm sure your animal friends would get help," I replied, trying not to show how creeped out I was by the vibe she was putting off, the little brushes of her fingers, and the low, breathiness of her voice. "And a bear is a great equalizer."

"But I'd still be helpless, all tied up, and someone could do just anything to me," Fluttershy said so close I could feel her breath on my face.

I cupped her chin in my hand. She closed her eyes and puckered her lips, blushing slightly.

"Fluttershy, you're a strong pony, you must learn to give yourself more credit. If someone broke in here, you'd fight them. If you want to learn how to fight better, talk to Rarity, I'm sure she'd be happy to teach you," I told her. I'd only seen the look of betrayal for a moment, but it had been there, "And if you are concerned about needing encouragement to do something, I and all your friends will stand behind you. Taking the first step is sometimes painful, but you only get self-confidence by picking yourself up after you fall, and realizing the fall didn't hurt as much as you expected it would."

I gave her a kiss on the forehead, like you'd give a kid. "Thanks for the check up, I'll tell Rarity you want that martial arts training."

"Thank you," Fluttershy said between clenched teeth as I left.

I was about a hundred yards from the cottage when I think I heard something. The bats heard it because a lot of them went crazy and the timberwolves howled a few moments later. Fortunately they sounded far away.

I told Rarity when I got back that Fluttershy was concerned about intruders and that she might broach the subject about training Fluttershy to fight at their next spa day. I escaped after expressing interest in her designs for the little black dresses and then patently ignoring the fanservice as Rarity modeled hers. Frankly there are naked poledancers who couldn't put on the show Rarity did fully clothed.

I did ask Captain Balustrade and Clear Brook about whether Fluttershy had anything to be nervous about, then used some of Fluttershy's phrases, but not her tone.

"That's what she said," I told my two pony minders, one military, the other my transition specialist, a psychological/psychosocial expert. Both pegasi, both now with their wings painfully extended.

"Clear Brook, I think this is more a cross-cultural communications problem," the military stallion said, "And I need a shower."

Clear Brook glowered at his retreating back before softening her expression and looking back at me. "I'm not sure that Fluttershy was concerned about her safety."

"Oh, that's good to hear, but I already told Rarity about the martial arts lessons," I said, "She seemed to think the idea was funny, but it's out there."

"Don't you think there could be another reason Fluttershy said those things to you?" Clear Brook asked, proving she was a psychologist through and through, by not just telling me the obvious.

"Well, I already told her about her self-confidence. I assume she was bullied as a child, and you really have to do a lot of work to overcome childhood traumas," I said.

"Could Fluttershy have been hinting at something else?" Clear Brook said, "Something she didn't want to say directly, for fear of it being misinterpreted."

"Implying something, alone, no one around," I said, thinking aloud, "She's lonely?"

Clear Brook clearly wanted to yell 'YES!!' but professional decorum trumped emotion. "That's a very likely scenario, and what does that imply?"

"Fear of misinterpretation," I said, and facepalmed, "She wants me to ask her friends to visit her more often!"

Clear Brook had gone from elated to purblind in an instant.

"Gee, thanks Doc, I swear I'm so dense I wonder why I don't sink to the center of the Earth," I said.

"You don't say?" Clear Brook said as she rubbed her forehead.

"Well, I should tell the others, that Fluttershy's feeling lonely and misses them. Maybe they could do some of their stuff out there where Fluttershy could keep track of her animals," I said, "Great idea Doc, I would have missed that completely."

"Are you sure that's what she meant? She couldn't have meant something else, something more personal?" Clear Brook asked.

" 'More personal'? I thought the whole Rainbow is a filly fooler was something you made up to shock Rainbow Dash," I said, "She and she . . . I think I'll just tell them all that Fluttershy is feeling lonely."

"You do that," Clear Brook said, nearly losing her professional decorum, "What did I ever do to the crown?"

Clear Brook clearly wanted to shout at me that Fluttershy wanted to get into my pants, but I think she dreaded having to explain the genesis and meaning of whatever pony-euphemisms they had for the act. I could tell the gray-maned, cream-colored mare was a real psychologist, she refused to say anything leading. Although our conversations were likely making her gray hair grayer.

I also had another person to ask why this was happening. I hadn't gotten particularly better looking on my transition here. Most of the guys were model to Greek god levels of good looking, unless they were ancient, so the interest, especially to creepy levels was disturbing. It had no cause I could see, so if whatever it was suddenly stopped, I was in trouble. I knew how my mother and old half-sisters reacted to a guy once he'd dumped her. My oldest half-sister trashed the guy's car when he dumped her and took up with her best frenemy.

Considering these were the agents of the crown to be sent against the worst evils of Equestria, the idea of them coming after me was terrifying.

"Nightmare, what is up with the Bearers?" I asked the other entity in my head.

Nightmare took a deep breath and sighed, which was well worth watching all on its own.

"The various qualities that make the Bearers appropriate for their task also makes them appropriate for serving as my host," Nightmare said as she pulled me into her lap and an all-limbs hug. "That calls to them on one hand, but there's also the desire to save you from the Nightmare Forces, me, on the other. I doubt they are even aware of the twin tensions in their hearts, so they are not reacting normally."

"That does explain why Pinkie Pie and Applejack are acting the way they are. The first just accepts and continues, the second acts like an adult about it," I said.

"Yet you fear the first and long for the second," Nightmare teased.

"I have my own childhood desires and fears for both, but I know why I'm acting irrationally," I replied as I snuggled against her. "So Nightmare Twilight?"

She snorted. "Give me some credit for taste. Nightmare Rarity would be cool and elegant as a star-filled autumn night. Nightmare Pinkie Pie would be a draconequus in all but name."

I haven't revealed I know the series, so she thought she'd been mysterious. Pinkie as Discord I could see. Speaking of Pinkie Pie, I should probably explain why Pinkie scares me so much. Because I'm used to the 'happy, happy fun!' part of the disorder, then comes the hammering demands, emotional abuse, manipulation and often violence.

I know Pinkie freaks out about breaking Pinkie Promises, and I have no desire to see that side of her. Likewise, what seems adorable in small doses, is exhausting after a couple hours. That she's on all the time, and has to have an audience reminds me too much of my mother. And if I didn't play a good audience, I could expect abuse. Until I discovered Gray Rock protocol.

"Hey Gray Rock!" I heard and stifled a cringe.

"See ya later," Balustrade said, taking to the air leaving me to my fate.

"So, I've got the most splendiferous party planned!" Pinkie Pie said as she bounced into view.

"And you need help setting it up?" I asked.

The bounce became less pronounced. "No."

"You need help with tear down," I said, "Not a problem, always glad to help."

"It's at 1:00 P.M., be sure to be there!" she said and bounced away.

Fortunately, 1:00 P.M. is when I'm supposed to report to Clear Brook, I remembered.

Suddenly she was back. "And I already canceled your appointment with Clear Brook." And she was gone.

I'll verify that at 12:55, I thought, Then if she hasn't left a note, I can do what I want.

I don't have anything against Pinkie personally, but the endless need to know every detail of my life, the demand that I have to drop everything and do as she wants, my mother was like that. But my mother kept a roof over my head, food on the table and clothes on my back. As abusive as she was, she gave back, under the threat of legal sanction but still. With Pinkie it is all one way. You give she takes, you can't live your life you have to bend to hers.

Since she didn't ask, and I didn't promise, I didn't attend the party. Because frankly, I hate parties. I'd rather spend time at the gym, or in the library. I'd rather be producing something than standing in a loud room eating empty calories and having empty conversations.

Now some might think I'm being a bit passive-aggressive, but my chain-of-command comes through Balustrade and Clear Brook, not Twilight and definitely not Pinkie. So Pinkie can't order me to attend to her whims, only Balustrade and Clear Brook can transmit Princess Celestia's orders.

12:55 had come and gone and neither Clear Brook nor Balustrade are in the office, I thought as I walked out of the mostly disused outpost, No notes or messages were waiting, time to go looking for them.

I headed to the wrong, but reasonable place to look. With Pinkie's party in full swing, I thought, Their likely location, but Clear Brook often frequents the library. Whether Twilight is a scintillating conversationalist or if she was researching me, I haven't asked.

The door to the library was open, and no Twilight could be heard within, but another set of feet could be heard.

"Oh, hi Gray Rock," Spike said as enthusiasm fading with recognition.

"Twilight ran off and left you, again," I said.

The little dragon nodded. "Pinkie's throwing a big party."

"And she forgot to invite you," I said.

"Again," we said together and had a sad chuckle.

"Yes, well is Clear Brook here? We were supposed to have our meeting. I can't imagine her tossing that away without good reason," I said, "Princess Celestia did mandate them."

Spike shrugged. "She was here earlier, maybe she's at the party," Spike offered.

"Well, I'll wait here a bit, and then check the office. Those meetings keep my head out of the noose, so I'm as eager to have them as Clear Brook is," I said.

"Celestia wouldn't hurt you," Spike assured me.

"Princess Celestia has to defend all her ponies and her country," I told Spike, "The two are not mutually exclusive, and they may not be pleasant for me. Getting the chop has got to be better than getting sealed in somewhere for the rest of my life." I glanced around. "Do you have any books on Rock Farming?"

Frankly, Rock Farming doesn't sound as foolish as you think, and it would give me something to talk about with Pinkie Pie, when she starts asking personal questions, I can reply with questions about rock farming.

I bounced between the library and Clear Brook's office for about an hour, strike that, I walked between them. Then settled in to devour the library's entire stock on rock farming. Once I was done, I checked Clear Brook's office one last time and headed back to Sweet Apple Acres to get some shuteye.

Needless to say, Pinkie was not pleased that I'd blown off another of her parties. Of course rather than argue the point, I immediately started in on rock farming. She was gone after a few attempts. I've already made enquiries with the Apples about trying my hand in a few patches too rocky for apple cultivation. They've all teased me a bit that I don't have to live up to my name.

The Apples are a bit stranger story. When I was set to be released from the hospital, Twilight and Rarity had room in their homes, and frankly the idea of them having power over me to that degree smacked of going back to my old apartment. I'd sleep in the old castle first.

But when Applejack said they could only put me up in the barn and only if I worked, that was the ticket. As I said, I've seen the show and Applejack going crazy about bucking all of Sweet Apple Acres was in the near future. I worked, I got fed, and I could watch out for Applejack, an equitable arrangement. What I could do with one busted arm and a bunch of healing ribs was a question, but I could work.

The first afternoon was an indication that I hadn't gone too far wrong in my decision to board with a family rather than stay with a bachelorette.

"I got a bunk in the barn all set up," Applebloom said as she stared at my face, "You sure you only got your arm busted?"

"Applebloom!" Granny Smith said.

"Actually I got some ribs popped loose as well," I told her, ignoring the implication my muzzle had been hideously mangled in my arrival, "I want to thank you for having some faith in me."

"Well this is no vacation home," Applejack said, "You're going to work."

"Yes ma'am, I won't let you down," I told her.

"Well, the first thing you'll need is a bath," Applebloom said, then looked around to Granny, "They don't let you wash proper in the hospital."

"You're right, they washed the front and the top, but the back is going to be a challenge," I said, "But a bucket and a long-handled brush will do the trick."

"You can't reach around your own back?" Applebloom said as she walked around behind me.

"Applebloom," Applejack warned.

"She's better about it than Twilight or Pinkie Pie," I said, "Everybody, everypony is curious. I'm used to it by now. With the ribs, I can't reach around easily," I explained, "I'll have to reach around over the top."

"Nonsense," Granny said, "Use my tub and the bath stool, I've got to go to the store anyway. Applejack, help him."

"But Big Mac -"

"You've washed the bulls and the rams, he's jist standing upright," Granny said, completely ignoring Applejack's sudden blush.

"Yes ma'am," Applejack said softly, she looked at me, "You do have tubs where you come from?"

"All kinds," I replied as Big Mac led me away, a strange smile on his face.

The bathroom was decorated more like I would have expected Rarity's to be. Lots of different soaps and lotions. Frills in a lot of places. A selection of brushes, but no sponges or loofas. The large claw-foot tub and a small bronze stool already in the tub. The surprise was the hot and cold taps. Fanon aside, the Apples had hot, running water.

I was wearing a pair of swim trunks of Big Mac's that were too small for him anymore. He three years ago he was built like a devoted gymbro, me, was right now. I may have waxed poetic about the beauty and physical attractiveness of the females, but many of the males were between gymnast to Greek god physiques, although Egyptian god might have been more accurate. Getting the seat situated in the tub was easy, it was thin metal and light enough to handle one-handed. Someone had left a small bucket, understanding it was a rinse-soap-rinse off operation I was going to be involved with. I got myself seated and had basically poured the bucket over myself while I checked through the brushes when Applejack walked in.

While I'd see her a couple of times in the hospital, usually clad in a work shirt, this time she was wearing a one-piece bathing suit, and it showed off her curves marvelously. Her rather demur disposition of the innocent maiden rivaled Fluttershy's normal nature. She looked up at me, blushed slightly and looked down.

"I got some soft rags, might be better than brushes on your bare skin," she said as if ashamed at the presumption.

"Thank you, they will be," I said, "Very clever and thoughtful."

If she blushed more, she'd give herself a hemorrhage.

I took a couple of the rags and rubbed one of the facial soaps on it. Applejack knelt behind me and carefully began wiping the dampened rags in small circles on my back.

"Sorry to put you through this, so I figure I should answer most any question you have," I said and I swear I felt the heat of her blush on my bare skin.

"Got a girl?" she said, she thought too soft her me to hear.

"Girls? You mean my half-sisters? Yes, I have a big household. Two older, two younger, and my mother," I told her.

"Your dad, gone?" Applejack asked.

"My mother had a very different idea of what her responsibilities were than you or Granny Smith," I said, "Putting it politely, I don't think she could pick my father out of the collection of men she's been with, nor the father of any of my half-sisters."

"Oh," Applejack said, suddenly unsure of how to ask her next question.

"My half-sisters, imagine Rarity as not generous or hard-working, demanding anyone else do her work," I said, "They learned it from my mother. I wound up doing most of the chores, so I'm not afraid of hard work."

"Don't let Applebloom foist her chores on you," Applejack said, "They're her chores."

"Understood," I said, "You're good with a rope, tying knots?"

"Yes," she said, her happy tone switched to suspicious, she'd also leaned against me so she could look at my face, "This ain't fer funny stuff, is it?"

"Well, I can't lift a basket with one arm, but if I can rig a harness with a hook, I can use that to help lift a basket." Now I turned to look at her. "What 'funny stuff' were you talking about?"

She retreated behind me and took up washing again. "Nothing, nothing," she assured me, laughing nervously.

"I'm not going to hang myself because I miss my household that much, if that's what you're worried about," I said.

"Do you miss them?" Applejack said, "Do you wanna go back?"

"Considering Nightmare's defeat by the Elements is what brought me here, but I'm not expecting to get back. I was planning to join the army soon, so I wouldn't see my household for quite a while," I said, then remembered how important family was to her, "I will miss them eventually, but right now getting used to living here is keeping that at bay."

She'd left after washing my back, the suit was backless above the waist so I got a good look at the entire package. But I could wait to say anything. The apple harvesting was hard work, and I enjoyed it. My claw harness let me pick up the apple bushels with one hand.

Applejack did fall into obsession with getting the harvest out, but I was able to convince her to call on the others to help, since Big Mac was unavailable. I also hinted that while she thought of it as work, because she had to do it, the others might consider it a bit of a lark, as they were doing it for only a day.

So, second crisis averted. I also slept through the Pinkie Party that followed the harvest, completely intentionally, although Applejack knew how tired I was.

That brings us to the present. I've normally got a meeting with Clear Brook tomorrow, but she rescheduled for today. The Apples gave me tomorrow off, they were dealing with business and needed some privacy in the afternoon. No, despite fanon I don't suspect anything untoward. I'd seen the maps of Appaloosa, so it was probably what and who to send down there.

I started getting suspicious when Rarity didn't take the offer of a couple hours to talk about fashion. She's provided me a few sets of clothes, and even if she's being compensated by the crown, I still feel I have to offer something of myself. But while she seemed eager at the chance, she was terribly busy tomorrow.

Suspicions were confirmed when I learned the library was to be closed tomorrow. So the chance of reading up on things was gone. Rather conveniently gone. I smelt a rat, I also noted in my regular journal that I'd checked on the supplies of tar and pitchforks, and found them out. It would take Clear Brook a little while to find and read that, then formulate a response. That would be interesting, oh god, I'm starting to act like my mother.

The meeting with Clear Brook did not go as planned, but the dividends will be worth it.

"Clear Brook?" I call as I enter the office area of the guard post. Neither pegasus is in evidence. The pink-maned Earth Pony sitting at Clear Brook's desk starts Nightmare howling.

"I promised to advise you faithfully, now I shall, that's Princess Celestia. Don't acknowledge it, give her some position of authority but don't make her reveal herself!" comes at me from Nightmare in a single blip.

"Excuse me, I was expecting Clear Brook, are you her boss?" I ask, and smile, then in high-flown tones, "Her link with the rulering Princesses and the one on whose word they decide to let me walk free or join the statute garden?"

There's a moment of hesitation in the large, pink-haired mare in the lab coat. Then a smile. She stands and extends a hand. "That's me," she says, "Although Clear Brook suggested I speak with you directly. There are some difficult passages."

"Okay, but Applejack is expecting me back after an hour-long session. I'll need to send word I'll be late, or I've got all of tomorrow off. If you can stomach watching me fish, we can have the whole day."

"But I thought," Celestia says, then smiles, "An hour today, and I've got some fishing poles of my own stashed away. Diplomacy you see."

"Ah, not a bureaucrat, a diplomat, should I call you Your Excellency?" I ask.

"Ah, no. CeeTee will do, my name is - problematic," she says as she sits and indicates I should too.

"I know the feeling, that's why I picked Gray Rock. My actual name would be difficult to explain," I say as I sit, "And they might throw rocks, to protect the children."

She smirks at that. Nightmare is yammering in fear. I'm realizing why, or rather who Nightmare was trying to usurp/overshadow and overdid it. Celestia doesn't have the bust or the wide hips of Nightmare, to wit, her breasts aren't larger than her head and her hips and hourglass shape are more like what you'd see of someone blessed with great genetics and a skilled surgeon, rather than the near parody that Nightmare sports.

Celestia smiles again, lighting up the whole room. "Well, let's get down to brass tacks. The crown is most concerned about Nightmare."

"She's, we've come to an arrangement. I am a student of my people's history and have a good imagination. She has agreed to help keep me alive, and out of prison, and I don't send her without her magic into some of the most barbaric times in our history," I say, realizing how cruel that sounds from the outside.

Celestia's faint mou of disapproval presages her next question. "I take it that there is something a mare might fear more than a stallion?"

"No, in the worst, that would be applied to any pretty face," I say and Celestia's eyebrows rise. "Nightmare is well aware I have those in reserve. The place she went was known as the Killing Fields. When they'd kill people for the counterrevolutionary act of wearing eyeglasses, you can imagine what a bipedal equine would provoke," I reply, "And when she was press ganged into stacking corpses, some of who had suffered the fate you mentioned, sometimes within earshot of Nightmare, I did see to it that she didn't suffer that fate."

"You don't sound like you come from a very pleasant place," Celestia says as she stares at her balled fist, which she relaxes putting her palms flat on the desk between us.

"If all I had was Hearth-Warming Eve to go by, you ponies would seem more genocidal than the worst of the worst of my people," I reply. I set my hands on the desk, palms up. "As for personally unpleasant, you are correct. My daily life was one of constant psychological abuse. I suspect that's what attracted Nightmare. Unfortunately for her, I've acknowledged it, and started learning techniques to distance myself from it. I don't have the boiling pot of rage she expected, and I'm grateful at the absence, and wary of similarities."

Her look of concern and her taking my hands in hers tells me her sternness is a facade. "Is that why you are so frustrating to the Bearers?" she asks.

"I'm frustrating the Bearers due to something Nightmare admitted, that the very characteristics, the soul that makes them worthy to be the Bearers is the same that would make them resonate with Nightmare, make them good hosts. Since Nightmare is inside me," I say and nod to her.

Her grip tightens. "You get the credit for resonating with them," Celestia finishes and releases her grip to put a hand under her chin, "So are you stringing Applejack along?"

"No, as they resonate with Nightmare, I resonate with the Element that I'd embody," I admit, "So while I am allowing Applejack to be influenced, she's unwittingly wielding the same influence on me."

Celestia nods. Then she smiles. "You look like you're bursting forth with questions," she says, "Questions you can't ask Clear Brook and Balustrade?"

"Well, not one to get an answer for anyway. It'll either be trivialized, or get me locked up." That's got Celestia's attention, so she's listening intently as I say, "But first I think I need to clear something up that Clear Brook and Balustrade keep misunderstanding. Princess Celestia is the ruler of the country. That's a job title and a responsibility, that's what, not whom, I'm afraid of. If I don't measure up, that's who's going to turn me to stone, or send me to Tartarus, or whatever else. Protecting her ponies by unpleasant means, it's her fucking job to do that. That's why she gets the big bucks, the adulation and the power, because it's her job to make the hard decisions that keep the country, heck the whole planet safe from threats that might end it."

Celestia had shrunk back from my little rant. "You seem at peace with a sword dangling over your head by a hair," she says.

"One, it isn't dangling by a hair, it's a thick hawser, because the mare Celestia doesn't want to punish an innocent. And two, understanding how it works isn't the same as being comfortable with it. That's why I'm so adamant about keeping these meetings. The mare wants to protect an innocent, but the crown must protect the people, the two together need intelligence about things." I lean forward. "I know Clear Brook reads my journal, so I write down what she told me, and everything else about Equestria that bugs me, so she can help keep me on an even keel. I work at being part of Celestia's solution to Princess Celestia's problem."

Celestia has kept her face stoic, then she abruptly excuses herself and leaves. There's a ratty old couch in the corner, I stretch out on it and wait.

"You play a dangerous game," Nightmare warns, although only I can hear her, "Reducing the Diarch to tears so. Your wooing of Applejack may encounter other obstacles."

How the heck are you hearing her cry, when you're using my ears and I can't hear anything? I mentally ask.

"She was a Bearer, I can feel the turmoil within her, and you forget, while Loyalty was not an Element that chose her, she wielded it far more than Applejack did in the final battle," Nightmare says and I can hear her smug satisfaction without seeing her face.

Oops, I realize, I thought I wouldn't Applejack her because she didn't wield Loyalty.

"Oh, don't feel bad," Nightmare says, "I could have mentioned it much earlier."

She pauses to let me stew a bit, then adds, "My promise was to keep you healthy, safe and avoid imprisonment. And I had to pay you back for that comparison between my magnificent self and that drab mare."

Well, you are much cuddlier, I think in reply, and Nightmare departs.

Celestia returns, her mascara is gone, her eyes are a bit red, and her cheeks are slightly red from a quick scrubbing. "Sorry, I had to take care of something."

I nod and return to my seat before the desk. "It happens. I'm not completely free of a bit of a cruel streak, even before Nightmare found her way into my head."

"Oh?" Celestia says, and looks suspicious.

"Yes, and I'm glad you can tell Princess Celestia directly. I haven't told Clear Brook I'm not as clueless about the Bearers' advances as I have been letting on. I just think I need to give Twilight, and Clear Brook the wrong impression, that I have learned a lot, but the wrong thing."

"Oh?" Celestia says, and is very interested.

"It'll start with a bit of research in the library, and a few awkward questions to Clear Brook," I explain.