Twilight Sparkle and the Stupid Original Pony

Through the rain I walked from the transit point to the address Mr. Landers had directed me to and found that I was expected.

I half expected to be disbelieved, or arrested, or to find myself facing my rapist again.

Instead, Bob Call, the senior officer at the Anomaly Agency branch personally took my statement. With an increasing display of agitation, he made notes as the autoscribe processed my words into an actionable complaint. When I was done he asked a series of questions cross-checking the internal consistency of my statement, taking further notes, and dispatching commands.

“These are serious charges, and we do take them seriously. I can assure your that Angstrom is not secretly a member of the Oligarchy. If you’ll please sign here and swipe your ID card to affirm your testimony, I will personally see to it that an investigation is begun immediately. We’ll need a cheek swab too, I’ll take you to medical after you auth– ah, thank you.”

I handed the tablet back after applying my signature and key hash.

“This way please.” He led me through hallways. “Do you require any counseling or mental health support?”

“I did, four months ago. It’s kinda moot now. I just need to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else like he did me.”

—

In Canterlot Castle, Celestia met privately with Doctor Gudlun.

“You specifically said until further notice, your Highness.”

“Oh, dear Mother, I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Princess, I am quite sure of it, it’s in her chart.”

“The treatment should have ended back in ten twenty two, once we got that mesmerizer of young ponies captured.”

Merely throwing away the key had been insufficient for the perpetrator of certain crimes. His cell door had been welded closed and an entire wing of the dungeon abandoned, walled off, other wards renumbered to disguise the fact that one was missing.

“Crap,” said the doctor.

Gudlun recalled to whom he was speaking.

“Uh, your Highness.”

“Crap indeed, Doctor. But none of it falls on you, this is my mistake. By my father’s horn, it is no wonder Twilight is so enraged, rather it is a wonder she has not struck me down.”

“Your Highness!” He was shocked by the suggestion. “Princes Twilight worships you! Wroth or naught! If she kills me for this, I deserve no less, but she will never raise her hoof against you!”

“Forgive me, doctor, I slipped into erroneous hyperbole in the extravagance of my regret for her suffering. I harbor no doubts whatsoever about Princess Twilight’s loyalty to the throne. And should she return to slay you, tell her that I have pardoned you and that she must not strike you unless she defeat me first.”

“Understood.” He bobbed his head as though given a command. “I will not repeat your words.”

“Eh?” she replied. “I should hope not, the last thing I need is Twilight thinking that I suspect her of actual treachery. Doctor, what I do need is for you to find out if there are any health implications from being on the suppressant for so long. Please prioritize this task.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

Celestia groaned to herself after dismissing the doctor from the royal presence, “I wonder what else I’ve done to rouse her just anger.”

The situation with Twilight’s lover made so much more sense now. The abrupt end of the treatment had driven Twilight into the embrace of one who appeared in a very chancy prophesy, forcing the sun princess to separate two ponies that she herself had inadvertently brought together. Celestia wondered if she had ruined everything in a very literal sense. The stupid male probably meant no harm; but always the echo of the seer’s voice lurked at the edge of her memory. If Celestia’s mistake caused Twilight to turn her hoof to evil, would the devastation be limited to this one small galaxy?

“Oh, Twilight,” she whispered as tears threatened to start, “what have I done to you?”

—

The sky had cleared when I emerged from the Anomaly Agency headquarters, but the sun had dipped below the horizon.

At least from surface level – many of the buildings overhead were still illuminated on their upper reaches. I was filled with an irrational need to feel the sunlight on my skin. If I hurried I could take the elevator up to the top of the city viewpoint where the light still shone.

The observation deck was in shadow by the time I got there, but the sunlight was only just out of reach.

I climbed up onto the railing where Twilight had stood last time I was here. She must have been crazy, hanging her ass over the void while I ate her pussy. I smiled at the memory, but it was a long way to the ground.

“Don’t worry, baby,” I patted my belly “we’re just here to steal a blessing…”

I reached up over my head and found that the last rays just kissed my fingertips. Stretching, reaching, standing on my toes, I put my hand fully into the golden glow and gripped at the light. Almost tangible and solid, I squeezed it until it ran down my arm. I closed my eyes against tears and stood holding my prize aloft, a frail Prometheus with a fistful of holy fire, light running between my fingers to drip from my elbow. As I lowered my hand to my chest, I spread my fingers over my heart, felt the glow soak through my skin. Sunlight, holy fire, pulsed in my blood, crept into my very bones.

“Mother Sol, I yearn for the light of another star, please convey my words—” my prayer went forth as the light faded “—Celestia forgive me. This world will destroy me, forgive me please, take me home to Twilight.”

My tears redoubled and I stood there swaying on the railing as the first stars came out.

I took a deep breath.

—

Celestia almost made to back to her chambers before the tears escaped.

“I am not to be disturbed,” she choked out to the guards as she bolted through the ornate doors and magically slammed them behind her.

With a flip of magic she tossed her tiara onto its cushion. Just once it would have been cathartic to throw it at the wall, stomp the gold metal to ruin, crush the singular amethyst on the brow into dust, to let her sorrow transmute into anger and throw a real tantrum. But that would just cause more trouble for ponies she served and she had already caused enough trouble for one life, even a life as long as hers. Instead she flopped onto her bed and buried her head under her pillow to sob in earnest.

“Your Highness?”

Celestia scrambled back to her hooves.

Who could be here?

Servants or assassins? Neither made any sense.

The yak!

She had implied that another attempt could be in the offing – did he take those words as her command? It was a reasonable mistake to make.

Sure enough, the yak was there, sitting in a chair by the window, she had not seen him in the dash to her bed.

To his mind, she was the most powerful pony alive, the very hoof of the pony goddess. And here she was weeping like a brokenhearted maid. Gone was his fear, his desire to escape – the entire scene reversed from his dreading.

“You may leave, Prince,” she said, unable to meet his eyes. “I apologize for dragging you into something you don’t want. I am as much an overbearing failure in the bedroom as I am a failure at taking care of my ponies, my student, my—”

“Princess.”

The yak had risen silently and Celestia realized he was suddenly standing very close. He smelled boldly masculine; not like a stallion, but pleasant. A little wild. His nearness was unexpectedly comfortable.

“Princess,” he repeated, “a simple yak knows nothing of the great matters that weigh upon you. But this simple yak knows the beat a heart in need. I would stay, if you allow me.”

“How long would you stay?” she asked with unwonted timidity.

“I am but mortal, Princess. I can offer you the rest of my life, no more; so many days as are mine to give.”

“And when you die? I have watched generations pass like the spring rain.”

“Let it be my life’s work to give you such love as even my death cannot diminish you.”

“Almost, Prince, almost you win me. But what of duty? If duty should draw you from my side ere death call you away?”

“Duty has broken more hearts than yours and mine,” he said simply. “As the eleventh son, and that by an unpopular mother, whichever of my ten brothers finds himself on our father’s throne, he will sit happier if I never set hoof in Yakarachi again. But if duty calls, you know that in that case this life is no longer mine to give.”

“I accept your offer, O son of Yakkul, and I would like to start over as if the disaster last night had never happened. Please allow me to introduce myself.”

Celestia cleared her throat. Her face was still tear stained, but in the naked vulnerability of her expression there was simple, equine, peace that nopony ever realized was lacking.

“I am Celestia, a diarch of Equestria. I love my little ponies, but in the cold watches of the night I am a very lonely mare.”

The yak prince spoke gravely.

“I am Tajrahaz Burrcoat of Yakkul, a minor prince of a unimportant land. And for once I find meaning in this life.”

Their lips met.

—

“Sir, she’s gonna jump!”

The surveillance tech pointed at one of his displays, the woman he had tracked was climbing onto the viewpoint rail.

“The inquiry goes on even if the complainant suicides. Do we have any assets close enough to intervene?”

“I can have a shared asset on site in eleven minutes. Dispatch?” the tech’s hand hovered over a button.

“Dispatch but don’t engage unless I give the word. In eleven minutes I think she’ll figure it out one way or the other.”

“Roger that, I have a female officer en route. She’s a veteran, with commendations for suicide talk-downs. I’m uploading R.O.E. …and she’s confirmed. No contact unless we give the order.”

For a moment they watched.

“She’s not gonna kill herself,” Bob said confidently. “I’d ask her out if an agent under my direct report hadn’t raped her.”

“You think Angstrom did it?”

With half of the watch staff already pulling his records for Justice, it was no secret what he was accused of.

“I don’t doubt it for a fucking minute. And I bet he has a log and trophies at his dom’. He’s methodical like that and he’ll convict himself. I’ve sworn out an inter-agency warrant based on her complaint. The doctor has gone offline weeks ago, but his scheduling service confirms that all three were present at the time of the alleged attack. I predict Justice will have the foundation for a solid conviction nailed down inside of two hours and a judgment within a week. I’ll file to delay execution until we can review every case he has ever worked, to look for other victims. That’s if he’s lucky enough to get a death sentence for this.”

“And if he isn’t lucky?”

“I’m going to fucking murder him.”

“What’s she doing?”

“Just watch her.”

Unaware of her remote audience, she gathered up a handful of sunlight and squeezed it in her fist. She bowed her head as in prayer; rivulets of fire slipped between the fingers of her upraised fist to run down her arm.

“Whoa…” the tech was breathless with awe.

“She’s the real deal, the one we’ve been watching for for centuries. Not some random citizen who happened to do three lines and hallucinate magical pastel ponies, she has power.”

As she lowered her hand the light she held was eclipsed by her body.

“She came to us of her own accord and that tow-headed freak raped her.”

“Four minutes, sir.”

—

“That was not at all what I was expecting,” she said, after.

“Have I disappointed your majesty?”

“Not at all, my prince.”

“Am I your prince now, pony?”

“Indeed you are,” Celestia said with a warm smile, “so long as that is what you want to be.”

“There is nothing I want more, Princess.”

Tajrahaz snuggled closer to the mare who had been the leader of the free world for centuries before his great great great grand-sire ascended the throne of Yakkul. Since tribal times before Yakkul even had a throne to ascend. She held the power to reshape the world in her hooves and he spooned against her with love.

“I am sorry, but beard has to go,” she said, twitching where copper coloured hairs tickled between her shoulder and wing shoulder.

“This boon I grant freely.” His tone was casually off-hoof, but she knew how proud yaks (even their females) were of their beards. And she knew enough of their culture to recognize that her itchy enemy would be considered an unusually fine example for a yak of his youth.

“You are generous, O lover. I, too, can be generous.” Celestia licked her lips seductively. “As soon as you are ready—” she felt a very ready prod “—oh my!”

—

There was a brief flare of light as the last of the stolen sunlight soaked into my shadowed skin.

The memory of rape was never more than a twitch of thought away: at any instant the slightest mental misstep brought the horror into the present.

Temporarily blinded by the sudden darkness, the abyss at my feet was an infinite void, bottomless.

Recounting the intimate details one by one as I made my statement, I had relived the brutal experience infinitely more intensely than any number of unwelcome flashbacks.

I stepped over the edge.