Iron Will’s Iron Abs Workout Core Blast Zoneby ShaslanChaptersChapter 1: FailureChapter 2: WeaknessChapter 3: TrainingChapter 4: SuccessChapter 1: Failure“Come on, maggots!” bellowed Iron Will, his booming voice barely audible over the thumping music. “Push yourselves! You gotta really push!” The hapless ponies arrayed before him strained and grunted, shoving with their hooves against the dumbbells that weighed them down, but not one of them managed to shift the weight. Iron Will waited, his own biceps tensed and straining beneath his charcoal fur, hoping against hope that one of them would be the one. The pony who could finally lift the weights that Iron Will himself could. All they needed was the mental strength. The willpower to see beyond what their body would do and make believe in what it could do. But the little ponies in this room were just like all the rest. They sweated and panted with good grace, but not one of them had the grit to follow through. None of them cared enough. His ears tipping back in disappointment, Iron Will passed a blunt-clawed hand across his face. It was over. Another three-week long training course finished. Another failure. Another crop of ponies who fell at the very last hurdle. Even Strongbuck, the big earth pony mare for whom he had harboured such fond hopes, floundered beneath her minotaur-weight dumbbell. And another of Iron Will’s dreams bit the dust. “Enough,” he said, kicking the gramophone with one hoof to shut it off. The music skittered into silence, and the shocked ponies looked up from their futile efforts at their coach. He couldn’t even meet their eyes. In silence, he walked from pony to pony, relieving them from their ribcage-crushing burdens, stacking the dumbbells in his arms like so many toys. Their movements unsteady with fatigue and shame, the trainees got to their hooves and shuffled in one sad line to the door. None of them could muster the strength to meet his eyes. Strongbuck was the last to go, her tail tucked between her legs and her head dipped so low her muzzle almost brushed the floor. As the double doors of Iron Will’s Iron Abs Workout Core Blast Zone swung shut behind her, Iron Will replaced his weights one by one onto the racks. The silence stretched like the chain of a lat pulldown machine, long and heavy and painful. “Iron Will’s my name, and training ponies is my game,” he muttered, but not even his tried-and-true catchphrase could spark any emotion. Despondently, he plodded over to the doors and flipped the sign to ‘closed’. Perhaps Iron Will’s Iron Abs Workout Core Blast Zone would never open its doors again. When he had first cut the red ribbon across those doors, he had felt invincible. Nothing could stop him. But now…he felt empty, somehow. Over and over he had tried, and over and over he had failed. It had been a bet that sent him into Equestria, almost twenty-five years ago. A quarter of a century since he had last trod Asteria’s rocky shores, since he had watched those beloved peaks dwindle into the distance as he sailed away. It began with a wrestling match, as it always did for minotaurs. Every bullock and heifer had to prove themselves once they came of age, and the Hammerfest was the highlight of Asteria’s annual calendar. Iron Will had felt readier than anyone. His massive strength had been one thing, but his sheer charisma and strength of character had all but guaranteed him the Golden Horn and the ultimate victory. Perhaps it was that overconfidence that had been his undoing. When somebody tries to block, just show ‘em that you rock. And he had been ready to show them all that he rocked. He had been ready to hear the screams of adulation, ready to let the calves ride on his shoulders and let the adults tousle his hair. He had been so sure, that he had made a bet. Secure in his self-confidence, he had gambled on himself, and he had lost. Words were thrown, and everyone was watching, and before he knew it he had shoved Cloven Hoof square in the chest and challenged him. Of course I can beat you! You’ll be so easy to pummel I’d bet a pony could do it. And Cloven Hoof, always so clever and so suave with his infuriating little smirk, looked up at him and grinned. Wanna bet? When the moment came, when Iron Will had charged and Cloven Hoof had sidestepped and sent him sprawling in the dirt, when their horns had locked and Iron Will had slipped and fallen once more, Cloven Hoof had stood over him and laughed. Guess you’d better get rowing if you want to make it to Equestria by nightfall, Little Will. Good luck finding a pony that can beat me. Though his pride had been bruised, Iron Will had submitted with good grace. He had made a bet and he had lost, and he had been prepared to abide by its terms. He kissed his parents and his brother goodbye, packed a few meals in a small bag, and set sail in the family rowboat. Seven days it had taken him to reach Equestrian shores. He found the first pony village within an hour of landing. He had strolled into town with a smile on his muzzle and a laugh on his lips, ready to tell them his story and win them over. Maybe one of them would be big and strong enough to take Cloven Hoof on. But the ponies had taken one look at him and fled. Those who quietly turned and galloped away were the best of it. Worst of all were those who stared and those who screamed. It took Iron Will a while to understand. He was a monster here. A beast. Something horrifying and feral. It took him time to come to terms with that. To figure out how to speak to the ponies so that they wouldn’t assume he was going to eat them. Once he understood how to speak softly and keep his posture low so he didn’t tower over them, he began to try to get a sense for their fighting ability. What he found horrified him. Ponies were soft. Cosseted by their immortal princesses, served by the seasons themselves, nature delivered up on a silver platter daily, ponies had not needed to fend for themselves since time immemorial. Even the strongest of them had not half the muscle mass or the determination of a minotaur calf. There had been one stallion who he had thought could be…could be the one. Two years after his initial arrival, already far longer than he had intended to take. He had met a stallion, with strong stocky legs and a huge frame that made him almost rival Iron Will in size. His name had been Woah Noah. Iron Will had worked with him one-on-one for months, and under his tutelage Woah Noah’s muscles swelled to enormous proportions. Iron Will had never been as happy as when Woah Noah finally managed to pin him down. At last, there was a chance. But when the time came, and he asked Woah Noah to join him on his journey back to Asteria, the green-coated titan refused. He had fallen in love, he said. She was pregnant, and he could not miss the birth of his unborn foal. He was sorry for Iron Will’s predicament, but he was asking too much. Crushed and betrayed, Iron Will had left Canterlot the same day. In the years and decades that followed, he thought of his old friend often, but he never went back. Woah Noah had not stood by him, and it was over. And time after time, Iron Will had repeated the cycle. Try to find a pony. Try to train them up. But every time, they failed, or were unwilling to join him on his long pilgrimage. Not one of his students had ever cared enough to help. And here he was, twenty-five years later, still alone and friendless. Still no closer to going home than he had been on that very first day. Still no closer to finding his champion than he had been when Woah Noah betrayed him. Iron Will sat down and leant against the racks, staring into the wall-length mirror at the only minotaur face he would ever see again; his own. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured, as a tear coalesced in one corner of his eye. “Look ‘em in the eye.” Chapter 2: Weakness“Come on, old man!” the filly jeered, as the veins in Tirek’s wiry arms popped out from his skin. “Is this really all you’ve got?” “Shut up, Cozy,” he snarled, trying to resist the urge to reach out his free hand to slap her across the face. Acceptance Not Violence had been the subject of many, many of the Official Equestrian Rehabilitation Scheme lectures he had attended at the School of Friendship. Cozy Glow had attended the same lectures, of course, but he sometimes suspected that Professor Starlight’s Lift Your Friends Up Instead Of Dragging Them Down lessons had been less impactful for her than for him. “I mean it,” Cozy laughed. “You’re weaker than a newborn, Tirek! Remember when you were the size of a skyscraper? Feels a long way away now, doesn’t it?” Pulling in a breath through his nostrils, Tirek peered over Cozy Glow’s head at the framed certificate on the wall behind her. The recipient of this Certificate of Rehabilitation is certified to take part in Equestrian civic life. And below it, in Starlight’s hornwriting, his own name, with Starlight and Princess Twilight Sparkle’s signatures below it. He was better. He was. Certified to take part in Equestrian civic life. No more cages, no more Tartarus. He was certified. And all he had to do to keep that certificate was…stay calm. Follow the rules. Acceptance not violence. Debate not hate. Support not retort. Professor Starlight had a great many rhyming and somewhat insipid lessons for him to abide by. And for the most part, they helped him keep his cool. It was easy, most of the time, to remember not to reach out and suck the magic from passing ponies. But sometimes, sometimes, it became very hard to keep the necessity of staying calm at the forefront of his mind. And Cozy Glow was present at most of those sometimes. The pink-coated filly smirked at him, tossed her perfect blue ringlets, and slammed Tirek’s withered hand down on the table with bone-shattering force. “Gah!” Tirek snatched his injured limb back from her, nursing it against his chest as she giggled and giggled. “This was fun, old guy,” she chirped, jumping up from her stool. “I reckon we can tick ‘visit friends’ off our schedules this week with a clear conscience.” “Yes,” rasped Tirek, still cradling his arm. “A clear conscience.” Cozy snickered and turned to skip to the door. “See you two pm next saturday, grandpops.” Tirek glared after her, and once the painted blue door had slammed shut behind her, he rose and padded slowly up the stairs to the bathroom. He pulled in a breath and turned to face himself in the mirror. Independence not Vengeance — learn to be satisfied with who you are. This was the lesson he struggled the most with. As a child, millennia ago, he had longed to be strong like his father, and as he grew older, had watched Scorpan swell with muscle without even lifting a finger. Tirek had remained weedy and stunted, and the jealousy had almost eaten him alive. Gargoyles were just…stronger, his father had explained regretfully. It wasn’t until Tirek’s mother took him aside and showed him the ancient secret of the centaurs that he finally found a way to cope. With the magic of his people, it didn’t matter if he was naturally small. With his magic, Tirek could be the strongest creature around. And he had worked to become that, gathering magic of every variety from hundreds of creatures across dozens of species. He had been mighty. The ground had trembled where he stepped. Only…well, now his magic was off-limits. It wasn’t gone — he was always able to feel it, curled hungrily in his stomach like a fox in its lair, ready to reach out and feed if only he would will it — but it was forbidden. Tirek was a pragmatist, and he knew when he was beaten. The world had changed, and if he wanted to live freely in the ponies’ strange new world he had to do it according to their rules. And the rules said no stealing magic. Which meant that Tirek was right back where he started all those centuries ago. Shrunken and withered, and getting beaten by a literal child. Morosely, Tirek settled himself back in the armchair in front of the window, and stared out at the denizens of Ponyville as they trotted blithely about their mundane little lives. He rested his chin on one fist and watched a group of pegasi flutter past. There had to be something he could do. There must be something he could try that wouldn’t land him back in a dungeon underneath the Castle of Friendship. He blinked, and peered closer at the pegasi. That one looked…different to the others. A white stallion, swollen with muscles, veins etched like tree branches across his bulging white fur. Tirek pulled in a breath. That stallion looked almost as glorious as he had once looked. And he would bet his right foreleg the stallion possessed neither the natural bulk of the gargoyles nor the magic-stealing ability of the centaurs. No, that pony had put on muscle the natural way. And if a pony could do it, why not Tirek? Chapter 3: TrainingChapter 3: Training Tirek peered sceptically at the worn-looking shop front. Faded neon letters declared that this was Iron Will’s Iron Abs Workout Core Blast Zone, and visible within were row upon row of empty gym machines. A small grey figure hunched at the far end, utterly alone. Hesitantly, Tirek raised a hand to knock before he thought better of it and lowered it again. He — he ought to come back another day. onsidering other creature’s emotional needs was important; Consideration, not Elimination. The creature in there was clearly in no mood for visitors, and the sign was set to closed. He half-turned to leave, but Cozy’s mocking laugh echoed once more in his mind. Beaten by a child. The almighty Tirek, who had bested the Princess herself in hoof-to-hoof combat — beaten by a child. No. Consideration be damned. His entire life was ruled by Starlight Glimmer’s ridiculous catechisms. He would be damned if he let her win here too, in the one area where he wanted to do something for himself. He raised his hand once more, and hammered firmly on the door. Iron Will was still slumped against the wall, staring blankly into the mirror, when a shadow fell across him. The change in the light finally stirred him, and he looked up, slightly bewildered. The shadow that stretched across the parqueted wooden floor towards him made the breath catch. Horns, horizontal bovine ears, broad masculine shoulders — it couldn’t be — it couldn’t be a minotaur, after all these years—? His heart in his throat, he started toward the door, and for one wonderful moment he thought he had been right. Dull reddish-brown fur topped by a shining silver mane, black matte horns that sucked the light in, and deep black fur covering strong hooved legs. But then the stranger shifted his weight slightly, and Iron Will’s surge of hope left him as suddenly as it had come. A centaur. The newcomer was only a centaur. The stranger made eye contact with him, and raised one hand to knock. Chapter 4: Success“Push!” Iron Will screamed into his face. “Push yourself! You’ll never achieve if you don’t believe!” It was too far; Tirek surged up from the bench to his hooves, raising the dumbbell up over his head and hurling it right at Iron Will’s face. “You push!” he roared, his chest heaving as he glared into Iron Will’s eyes — directly into his eyes, Iron Will noticed. How pleasant it was, not to have to look down and lower one’s voice. “I’m sick,” Tirek spat, “Of your rhyming platitudes, you little weasel of a cow! You’re as nauseating as a pony!” Iron Will stared at him, shocked by his fury. Then, slowly, he began to laugh. It gathered in his stomach, gained force in his huge barrel chest, and then came booming from his muzzle. “What?” demanded Tirek, his hands clenching into fists and his forehoof scraping at the ground. “What is so sky-damned funny to you?” Iron Will let out another burst of laughter before shaking his head. “You did it, Tirek,” he said at last. “Look. You did it. You believed, and you achieved.” He pointed, and Tirek followed his gesture to where the enormous dumbbell now hung, embedded in the mirror, cracks splintering out on every side of it. His mouth opened in a slow ‘O’ of surprise, and his fists uncurled. “I…I did it?” “You did it.” Iron Will nodded, the smile still on his face. “No magic. No cheats. You lifted my biggest weight, all on your own.” Tirek gazed down at his hands, his eyes wide in disbelief. “I…did it. I did it.” He looked up at Iron Will, and suddenly displayed all his sharp teeth in a wide, shocked grin. “I did it!” “You did it!” Iron Will stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder with a blow that would have felled a lesser creature. Tirek, hardened by weeks of brutal routine, barely staggered. He shrugged off the impact and laughed, a sound as hearty and vital as Iron Will’s own. Then he raised his own fists and shoved Iron Will in the chest, hard enough to send the minotaur skidding backwards. Iron Will’s breath huffed out through his nostrils, and a feral smile spread across his face. “Want to fight, eh?” he said, his voice low. “I’ll warn you, Tirek, I won’t hold back. Iron Will doesn’t do things by halves.” His pupils dilated with excitement, Tirek spread his arms wide; a clear invitation. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do so.” Iron Will laughed, loud and hearty, and swung his first punch. It wasn’t much of a punch, to be honest. No real force behind it. For all his bravado, he was out of practice, and he hadn’t had an equal fight in decades. With a scoff, Tirek twisted to the side and let the fist sail by. “Is that really the best you can do?” His grin widening, Iron Will swung again. Again Tirek sidestepped, but this time he used that momentum to pivot on one hoof and bring his strong hind legs up in a powerful buck. His bunched muscles uncurled and released, and Iron Will went sliding across the floor of the gym, scattering elliptical machines in his wake. Unable to keep the smile off his face, Iron Will surged back to his hooves, lowered his horns, and charged. His hooves thundered on the floorboards, and many split and cracked beneath the weight of his passage. A small part of his mind noted the damage, thought that’ll be one hell of a repair job — but most of him was revelling in the thrill of this, a challenge at last. Tirek lowered his own horns to charging position, scraped the floor with both forehooves before planting them wide and bracing himself. Iron Will cannoned into him with all the grace and finesse of a freight train, and the crack of horn against horn and skull against skull must have been audible from streets away. For one glorious second they struggled like that, horns locked tight around one another, Tirek’s breath scorching Iron Will’s face, before Tirek brought up one fist like a mallet into Iron Will’s gut. Gasping for air, Iron Will reeled back, breaking the horn-lock, wild laughter rising like a shout to his lips. He raised both fists and brought them jackhammering down, one after another, against Tirek’s raised arms. On they fought, surging back and forth, each seizing and losing the upper hand a dozen times a minute, trampling the remnants of Iron Will’s once-immaculate gym beneath their hooves. Blood dripped red and glittering from Iron Will’s nose and glistened like rubies against Tirek’s own ruby fur. And they were both laughing, hard enough that Iron Will had to struggle for air, both alive and existing freely in this one, perfect, moment. Hurdling the remains of a rowing machine to collar Tirek with one hand, Iron Will sought an opening to land a punch. Tirek grunted and reached up to seize his horns, and for a minute the two of them struggled for precedence. Reaching with his free hand for Tirek’s own horns — his ear — anything that would give him purchase, Iron Will fought to keep his footing. He would not be felled again. With a gasp of effort, Tirek twisted his body and heaved Iron Will closer to him, bringing his foreleg up at the same time to knee Iron Will in the belly. Iron Will’s stomach clenched — not for nothing did he call them his abs of steel — and he took the blow without missing a beat. Then while Tirek was still recovering he dealt him a bruising backhand and dragged Tirek forward, pulling him off balance. Iron Will still had him by the collar, their muzzles mere inches apart. Their breath mingled, hot and wet on Iron Will’s grey fur. Tirek’s yellow pupils, vivid against the black schlera, seemed almost to glow. Iron Will could feel the blood singing in his veins. In almost twenty-five years, he hadn’t had a proper fight, a real, bloody, fight. And now here he was, bruised and battered, and a centaur had him by the horns, and he felt more alive than he had in years. For a moment it all seemed very simple, and Iron Will was a firm believer in simplicity. So he leaned forward to close those last few inches between them, and he kissed Tirek firmly on the muzzle. The centaur’s eyes widened, and Iron Will hastily stepped back, waiting for the recrimination that would surely come. It hadn’t been much, just a peck really — but he shouldn’t have done it. He was lonely, and Tirek was the first soul he’d met in all Equestria that he actually had a scrap of anything in common with — and that fight had been magic — but he shouldn’t have done it. Never apologise where you can criticise; it was one of his many mantras, but this time it didn’t seem to apply. “I’m sorry, Tirek,” he started, but he didn’t get any further, because two muscled red arms whipped out and yanked him forward, and a mouth pressed itself over his. And there amid the ruins of Iron Will’s Iron Abs Workout Core Blast Zone, Iron Will finally allowed himself to believe again.
Chapter 1: Failure“Come on, maggots!” bellowed Iron Will, his booming voice barely audible over the thumping music. “Push yourselves! You gotta really push!” The hapless ponies arrayed before him strained and grunted, shoving with their hooves against the dumbbells that weighed them down, but not one of them managed to shift the weight. Iron Will waited, his own biceps tensed and straining beneath his charcoal fur, hoping against hope that one of them would be the one. The pony who could finally lift the weights that Iron Will himself could. All they needed was the mental strength. The willpower to see beyond what their body would do and make believe in what it could do. But the little ponies in this room were just like all the rest. They sweated and panted with good grace, but not one of them had the grit to follow through. None of them cared enough. His ears tipping back in disappointment, Iron Will passed a blunt-clawed hand across his face. It was over. Another three-week long training course finished. Another failure. Another crop of ponies who fell at the very last hurdle. Even Strongbuck, the big earth pony mare for whom he had harboured such fond hopes, floundered beneath her minotaur-weight dumbbell. And another of Iron Will’s dreams bit the dust. “Enough,” he said, kicking the gramophone with one hoof to shut it off. The music skittered into silence, and the shocked ponies looked up from their futile efforts at their coach. He couldn’t even meet their eyes. In silence, he walked from pony to pony, relieving them from their ribcage-crushing burdens, stacking the dumbbells in his arms like so many toys. Their movements unsteady with fatigue and shame, the trainees got to their hooves and shuffled in one sad line to the door. None of them could muster the strength to meet his eyes. Strongbuck was the last to go, her tail tucked between her legs and her head dipped so low her muzzle almost brushed the floor. As the double doors of Iron Will’s Iron Abs Workout Core Blast Zone swung shut behind her, Iron Will replaced his weights one by one onto the racks. The silence stretched like the chain of a lat pulldown machine, long and heavy and painful. “Iron Will’s my name, and training ponies is my game,” he muttered, but not even his tried-and-true catchphrase could spark any emotion. Despondently, he plodded over to the doors and flipped the sign to ‘closed’. Perhaps Iron Will’s Iron Abs Workout Core Blast Zone would never open its doors again. When he had first cut the red ribbon across those doors, he had felt invincible. Nothing could stop him. But now…he felt empty, somehow. Over and over he had tried, and over and over he had failed. It had been a bet that sent him into Equestria, almost twenty-five years ago. A quarter of a century since he had last trod Asteria’s rocky shores, since he had watched those beloved peaks dwindle into the distance as he sailed away. It began with a wrestling match, as it always did for minotaurs. Every bullock and heifer had to prove themselves once they came of age, and the Hammerfest was the highlight of Asteria’s annual calendar. Iron Will had felt readier than anyone. His massive strength had been one thing, but his sheer charisma and strength of character had all but guaranteed him the Golden Horn and the ultimate victory. Perhaps it was that overconfidence that had been his undoing. When somebody tries to block, just show ‘em that you rock. And he had been ready to show them all that he rocked. He had been ready to hear the screams of adulation, ready to let the calves ride on his shoulders and let the adults tousle his hair. He had been so sure, that he had made a bet. Secure in his self-confidence, he had gambled on himself, and he had lost. Words were thrown, and everyone was watching, and before he knew it he had shoved Cloven Hoof square in the chest and challenged him. Of course I can beat you! You’ll be so easy to pummel I’d bet a pony could do it. And Cloven Hoof, always so clever and so suave with his infuriating little smirk, looked up at him and grinned. Wanna bet? When the moment came, when Iron Will had charged and Cloven Hoof had sidestepped and sent him sprawling in the dirt, when their horns had locked and Iron Will had slipped and fallen once more, Cloven Hoof had stood over him and laughed. Guess you’d better get rowing if you want to make it to Equestria by nightfall, Little Will. Good luck finding a pony that can beat me. Though his pride had been bruised, Iron Will had submitted with good grace. He had made a bet and he had lost, and he had been prepared to abide by its terms. He kissed his parents and his brother goodbye, packed a few meals in a small bag, and set sail in the family rowboat. Seven days it had taken him to reach Equestrian shores. He found the first pony village within an hour of landing. He had strolled into town with a smile on his muzzle and a laugh on his lips, ready to tell them his story and win them over. Maybe one of them would be big and strong enough to take Cloven Hoof on. But the ponies had taken one look at him and fled. Those who quietly turned and galloped away were the best of it. Worst of all were those who stared and those who screamed. It took Iron Will a while to understand. He was a monster here. A beast. Something horrifying and feral. It took him time to come to terms with that. To figure out how to speak to the ponies so that they wouldn’t assume he was going to eat them. Once he understood how to speak softly and keep his posture low so he didn’t tower over them, he began to try to get a sense for their fighting ability. What he found horrified him. Ponies were soft. Cosseted by their immortal princesses, served by the seasons themselves, nature delivered up on a silver platter daily, ponies had not needed to fend for themselves since time immemorial. Even the strongest of them had not half the muscle mass or the determination of a minotaur calf. There had been one stallion who he had thought could be…could be the one. Two years after his initial arrival, already far longer than he had intended to take. He had met a stallion, with strong stocky legs and a huge frame that made him almost rival Iron Will in size. His name had been Woah Noah. Iron Will had worked with him one-on-one for months, and under his tutelage Woah Noah’s muscles swelled to enormous proportions. Iron Will had never been as happy as when Woah Noah finally managed to pin him down. At last, there was a chance. But when the time came, and he asked Woah Noah to join him on his journey back to Asteria, the green-coated titan refused. He had fallen in love, he said. She was pregnant, and he could not miss the birth of his unborn foal. He was sorry for Iron Will’s predicament, but he was asking too much. Crushed and betrayed, Iron Will had left Canterlot the same day. In the years and decades that followed, he thought of his old friend often, but he never went back. Woah Noah had not stood by him, and it was over. And time after time, Iron Will had repeated the cycle. Try to find a pony. Try to train them up. But every time, they failed, or were unwilling to join him on his long pilgrimage. Not one of his students had ever cared enough to help. And here he was, twenty-five years later, still alone and friendless. Still no closer to going home than he had been on that very first day. Still no closer to finding his champion than he had been when Woah Noah betrayed him. Iron Will sat down and leant against the racks, staring into the wall-length mirror at the only minotaur face he would ever see again; his own. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured, as a tear coalesced in one corner of his eye. “Look ‘em in the eye.”
Chapter 2: Weakness“Come on, old man!” the filly jeered, as the veins in Tirek’s wiry arms popped out from his skin. “Is this really all you’ve got?” “Shut up, Cozy,” he snarled, trying to resist the urge to reach out his free hand to slap her across the face. Acceptance Not Violence had been the subject of many, many of the Official Equestrian Rehabilitation Scheme lectures he had attended at the School of Friendship. Cozy Glow had attended the same lectures, of course, but he sometimes suspected that Professor Starlight’s Lift Your Friends Up Instead Of Dragging Them Down lessons had been less impactful for her than for him. “I mean it,” Cozy laughed. “You’re weaker than a newborn, Tirek! Remember when you were the size of a skyscraper? Feels a long way away now, doesn’t it?” Pulling in a breath through his nostrils, Tirek peered over Cozy Glow’s head at the framed certificate on the wall behind her. The recipient of this Certificate of Rehabilitation is certified to take part in Equestrian civic life. And below it, in Starlight’s hornwriting, his own name, with Starlight and Princess Twilight Sparkle’s signatures below it. He was better. He was. Certified to take part in Equestrian civic life. No more cages, no more Tartarus. He was certified. And all he had to do to keep that certificate was…stay calm. Follow the rules. Acceptance not violence. Debate not hate. Support not retort. Professor Starlight had a great many rhyming and somewhat insipid lessons for him to abide by. And for the most part, they helped him keep his cool. It was easy, most of the time, to remember not to reach out and suck the magic from passing ponies. But sometimes, sometimes, it became very hard to keep the necessity of staying calm at the forefront of his mind. And Cozy Glow was present at most of those sometimes. The pink-coated filly smirked at him, tossed her perfect blue ringlets, and slammed Tirek’s withered hand down on the table with bone-shattering force. “Gah!” Tirek snatched his injured limb back from her, nursing it against his chest as she giggled and giggled. “This was fun, old guy,” she chirped, jumping up from her stool. “I reckon we can tick ‘visit friends’ off our schedules this week with a clear conscience.” “Yes,” rasped Tirek, still cradling his arm. “A clear conscience.” Cozy snickered and turned to skip to the door. “See you two pm next saturday, grandpops.” Tirek glared after her, and once the painted blue door had slammed shut behind her, he rose and padded slowly up the stairs to the bathroom. He pulled in a breath and turned to face himself in the mirror. Independence not Vengeance — learn to be satisfied with who you are. This was the lesson he struggled the most with. As a child, millennia ago, he had longed to be strong like his father, and as he grew older, had watched Scorpan swell with muscle without even lifting a finger. Tirek had remained weedy and stunted, and the jealousy had almost eaten him alive. Gargoyles were just…stronger, his father had explained regretfully. It wasn’t until Tirek’s mother took him aside and showed him the ancient secret of the centaurs that he finally found a way to cope. With the magic of his people, it didn’t matter if he was naturally small. With his magic, Tirek could be the strongest creature around. And he had worked to become that, gathering magic of every variety from hundreds of creatures across dozens of species. He had been mighty. The ground had trembled where he stepped. Only…well, now his magic was off-limits. It wasn’t gone — he was always able to feel it, curled hungrily in his stomach like a fox in its lair, ready to reach out and feed if only he would will it — but it was forbidden. Tirek was a pragmatist, and he knew when he was beaten. The world had changed, and if he wanted to live freely in the ponies’ strange new world he had to do it according to their rules. And the rules said no stealing magic. Which meant that Tirek was right back where he started all those centuries ago. Shrunken and withered, and getting beaten by a literal child. Morosely, Tirek settled himself back in the armchair in front of the window, and stared out at the denizens of Ponyville as they trotted blithely about their mundane little lives. He rested his chin on one fist and watched a group of pegasi flutter past. There had to be something he could do. There must be something he could try that wouldn’t land him back in a dungeon underneath the Castle of Friendship. He blinked, and peered closer at the pegasi. That one looked…different to the others. A white stallion, swollen with muscles, veins etched like tree branches across his bulging white fur. Tirek pulled in a breath. That stallion looked almost as glorious as he had once looked. And he would bet his right foreleg the stallion possessed neither the natural bulk of the gargoyles nor the magic-stealing ability of the centaurs. No, that pony had put on muscle the natural way. And if a pony could do it, why not Tirek?
Chapter 3: TrainingChapter 3: Training Tirek peered sceptically at the worn-looking shop front. Faded neon letters declared that this was Iron Will’s Iron Abs Workout Core Blast Zone, and visible within were row upon row of empty gym machines. A small grey figure hunched at the far end, utterly alone. Hesitantly, Tirek raised a hand to knock before he thought better of it and lowered it again. He — he ought to come back another day. onsidering other creature’s emotional needs was important; Consideration, not Elimination. The creature in there was clearly in no mood for visitors, and the sign was set to closed. He half-turned to leave, but Cozy’s mocking laugh echoed once more in his mind. Beaten by a child. The almighty Tirek, who had bested the Princess herself in hoof-to-hoof combat — beaten by a child. No. Consideration be damned. His entire life was ruled by Starlight Glimmer’s ridiculous catechisms. He would be damned if he let her win here too, in the one area where he wanted to do something for himself. He raised his hand once more, and hammered firmly on the door. Iron Will was still slumped against the wall, staring blankly into the mirror, when a shadow fell across him. The change in the light finally stirred him, and he looked up, slightly bewildered. The shadow that stretched across the parqueted wooden floor towards him made the breath catch. Horns, horizontal bovine ears, broad masculine shoulders — it couldn’t be — it couldn’t be a minotaur, after all these years—? His heart in his throat, he started toward the door, and for one wonderful moment he thought he had been right. Dull reddish-brown fur topped by a shining silver mane, black matte horns that sucked the light in, and deep black fur covering strong hooved legs. But then the stranger shifted his weight slightly, and Iron Will’s surge of hope left him as suddenly as it had come. A centaur. The newcomer was only a centaur. The stranger made eye contact with him, and raised one hand to knock.
Chapter 4: Success“Push!” Iron Will screamed into his face. “Push yourself! You’ll never achieve if you don’t believe!” It was too far; Tirek surged up from the bench to his hooves, raising the dumbbell up over his head and hurling it right at Iron Will’s face. “You push!” he roared, his chest heaving as he glared into Iron Will’s eyes — directly into his eyes, Iron Will noticed. How pleasant it was, not to have to look down and lower one’s voice. “I’m sick,” Tirek spat, “Of your rhyming platitudes, you little weasel of a cow! You’re as nauseating as a pony!” Iron Will stared at him, shocked by his fury. Then, slowly, he began to laugh. It gathered in his stomach, gained force in his huge barrel chest, and then came booming from his muzzle. “What?” demanded Tirek, his hands clenching into fists and his forehoof scraping at the ground. “What is so sky-damned funny to you?” Iron Will let out another burst of laughter before shaking his head. “You did it, Tirek,” he said at last. “Look. You did it. You believed, and you achieved.” He pointed, and Tirek followed his gesture to where the enormous dumbbell now hung, embedded in the mirror, cracks splintering out on every side of it. His mouth opened in a slow ‘O’ of surprise, and his fists uncurled. “I…I did it?” “You did it.” Iron Will nodded, the smile still on his face. “No magic. No cheats. You lifted my biggest weight, all on your own.” Tirek gazed down at his hands, his eyes wide in disbelief. “I…did it. I did it.” He looked up at Iron Will, and suddenly displayed all his sharp teeth in a wide, shocked grin. “I did it!” “You did it!” Iron Will stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder with a blow that would have felled a lesser creature. Tirek, hardened by weeks of brutal routine, barely staggered. He shrugged off the impact and laughed, a sound as hearty and vital as Iron Will’s own. Then he raised his own fists and shoved Iron Will in the chest, hard enough to send the minotaur skidding backwards. Iron Will’s breath huffed out through his nostrils, and a feral smile spread across his face. “Want to fight, eh?” he said, his voice low. “I’ll warn you, Tirek, I won’t hold back. Iron Will doesn’t do things by halves.” His pupils dilated with excitement, Tirek spread his arms wide; a clear invitation. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do so.” Iron Will laughed, loud and hearty, and swung his first punch. It wasn’t much of a punch, to be honest. No real force behind it. For all his bravado, he was out of practice, and he hadn’t had an equal fight in decades. With a scoff, Tirek twisted to the side and let the fist sail by. “Is that really the best you can do?” His grin widening, Iron Will swung again. Again Tirek sidestepped, but this time he used that momentum to pivot on one hoof and bring his strong hind legs up in a powerful buck. His bunched muscles uncurled and released, and Iron Will went sliding across the floor of the gym, scattering elliptical machines in his wake. Unable to keep the smile off his face, Iron Will surged back to his hooves, lowered his horns, and charged. His hooves thundered on the floorboards, and many split and cracked beneath the weight of his passage. A small part of his mind noted the damage, thought that’ll be one hell of a repair job — but most of him was revelling in the thrill of this, a challenge at last. Tirek lowered his own horns to charging position, scraped the floor with both forehooves before planting them wide and bracing himself. Iron Will cannoned into him with all the grace and finesse of a freight train, and the crack of horn against horn and skull against skull must have been audible from streets away. For one glorious second they struggled like that, horns locked tight around one another, Tirek’s breath scorching Iron Will’s face, before Tirek brought up one fist like a mallet into Iron Will’s gut. Gasping for air, Iron Will reeled back, breaking the horn-lock, wild laughter rising like a shout to his lips. He raised both fists and brought them jackhammering down, one after another, against Tirek’s raised arms. On they fought, surging back and forth, each seizing and losing the upper hand a dozen times a minute, trampling the remnants of Iron Will’s once-immaculate gym beneath their hooves. Blood dripped red and glittering from Iron Will’s nose and glistened like rubies against Tirek’s own ruby fur. And they were both laughing, hard enough that Iron Will had to struggle for air, both alive and existing freely in this one, perfect, moment. Hurdling the remains of a rowing machine to collar Tirek with one hand, Iron Will sought an opening to land a punch. Tirek grunted and reached up to seize his horns, and for a minute the two of them struggled for precedence. Reaching with his free hand for Tirek’s own horns — his ear — anything that would give him purchase, Iron Will fought to keep his footing. He would not be felled again. With a gasp of effort, Tirek twisted his body and heaved Iron Will closer to him, bringing his foreleg up at the same time to knee Iron Will in the belly. Iron Will’s stomach clenched — not for nothing did he call them his abs of steel — and he took the blow without missing a beat. Then while Tirek was still recovering he dealt him a bruising backhand and dragged Tirek forward, pulling him off balance. Iron Will still had him by the collar, their muzzles mere inches apart. Their breath mingled, hot and wet on Iron Will’s grey fur. Tirek’s yellow pupils, vivid against the black schlera, seemed almost to glow. Iron Will could feel the blood singing in his veins. In almost twenty-five years, he hadn’t had a proper fight, a real, bloody, fight. And now here he was, bruised and battered, and a centaur had him by the horns, and he felt more alive than he had in years. For a moment it all seemed very simple, and Iron Will was a firm believer in simplicity. So he leaned forward to close those last few inches between them, and he kissed Tirek firmly on the muzzle. The centaur’s eyes widened, and Iron Will hastily stepped back, waiting for the recrimination that would surely come. It hadn’t been much, just a peck really — but he shouldn’t have done it. He was lonely, and Tirek was the first soul he’d met in all Equestria that he actually had a scrap of anything in common with — and that fight had been magic — but he shouldn’t have done it. Never apologise where you can criticise; it was one of his many mantras, but this time it didn’t seem to apply. “I’m sorry, Tirek,” he started, but he didn’t get any further, because two muscled red arms whipped out and yanked him forward, and a mouth pressed itself over his. And there amid the ruins of Iron Will’s Iron Abs Workout Core Blast Zone, Iron Will finally allowed himself to believe again.
