The light was blinding.

Even as Twilight closed her eyes, their intensity still cut through. She raised a stray hoof to stem the glare. In front of her, she could sense the cacophony of a dozen or more voices assembled into a crowd, adding to her growing sense of unease.

Then the lights dimmed and no longer seemed so all-encompassing. Solid outlines of objects returned to her vision, and the assembly was now clearly present. Regular-looking ponies sat before her upon rows of bleachers going back through a dark auditorium. Yet one constant remained: all of their eyes focused on her. Unblinking yet ever-present, and no matter where she turned her head, their eyes did follow. Interspersed between the rafters were hooded unicorns pressed themselves against mechanical cameras that took still photos and audio equipment that spun as they recorded from outstretched fluffy microphones.

Twilight found herself in an uncomfortably austere chair that pressed against her wings. To her right was a large empty table with a sitting stool. Behind this lay a deep red curtain pulled down. Where she sat was illuminated in the oversaturated light of great lamps that hung over the audience's heads. Before she could even comprehend what was happening, the crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers, their excitement palpable. The curtain dramatically parted, revealing a figure illuminated in the sickly bright light.

He was a plain stallion of unremarkable distinction, yet something about him made Twilight feel queasy. He sported a grey dapple suit which matched his pale, tuft-strewn coat. Large, watery eyes darted rapidly back and forth as he stared out at his adoring audience. Beneath them, he sported a broad smile unwaveringly affixed to his face.

He practically threw himself at the crowd from where he emerged, his steps swift and confident. To them, he gave out hugs and hoofshakes aplenty, his charisma undeniable. His efforts only drove them to more delirium until the noise was thundering. After he satisfied himself with his schmoozing, he turned his smiling person to Twilight. He swept her up into an unwelcome hug.

Then, like a flash, he retreated, gripping her hoof skyward as if she were a champion prized fighter. His antics pleased the audience, who reciprocated with the steady drumbeat of their hooves against the floor and rafters. The constant thud, thud, thud thundered like a locomotive engine; the stage seemed to shake and bounce as they carried on the rhythmic steps of delight.

“Princess Twilight, everypony!” he cried. “Isn’t she a star?” Twilight could only sheepishly wave. Something about the backdrop of the overbearing lights cast shadows over the standing ponies, the whites of smiles visible against the shadows. The Host was still beside her in the centre of it all, a conductor before his orchestra.

The noise from the crowd subsided as the Host took his seat. “We are so happy you’re here today, princess,” he said. “Aren’t we, folks?” Another cheer from admiring spectators. Twilight felt relatively small in her chair. She felt the words spill from her lips before she could even think:

“It’s an honour to be here.”

“I’m sure you’re very busy with all your new role,” he said, leaning back. “I mean taking over from the ancient royal sisters as the sole ruler of Equestria.” He gesticulated as he shot her a knowing smirk. “No pressure.” The audience laughed. Twilight’s stomach twisted.

“Oh, it’s a hooful all right,” she admitted. “But I take every day one step at a time.”

“I mean, is it fair to say you have no experience,” he stated openly. “Like, isn’t that crazy?” He looked from side to side for affirmation, intermittently nodding at his question. “Weren’t you a librarian previously?” Twilight let her nervous smile slip for but a moment. She laughed instead; it alleviated the surging headache preliminarily forming at the forefront of her skull.

“Well, the adventures my friends and I have had have given me plenty to bring to the role,” Twilight answered to the dead silence of the crowd. She shuffled into her seat. The Host hummed.

“You and your friends have been on some wacky adventures, that’s for sure. But fun adventures make a ruler not.” He tilted his head to the side. “Would say that’s fair?”

“I d-don’t,” Twilight stammered. “I mean, it’s fair you believe that, bu-”

“I mean to go from a lowly librarian to the most powerful pony in the world,” he interrupted. He slammed his hood against the desk. “Just like that.” The noise of his strike echoed through the hall as the crowd hushed; only the the buzz of the overhead lamps and the click of the audio equipment remained. Their heat had produced a slick line of sweat on her forehead.

“I would agree it's…unusual.”

“Some would say foolish,” the Host retorted, and his pleasant demeanour vanished. He leaned over the table, the shadow of his form looming, and the edges to which touched her gave off a deep chill despite the rest of her dealing with intolerable heat.

“Celestia chose me,” she protested weakly.

“You mean the same Celestia that can’t seem to stop any of those rampaging bozos that show up from Tartarus knows where,” the Host declared. “The same Celestia that didn’t tell you about any of them.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Maybe there's a bit of senility coming on.” The crowd mimicked his empty laughs, and Twilight could only scowl in disgust.

“That’s not fair! Celestia is a great leader.”

Her statement only increased his amusement. “Sore point, eh?”

“This isn’t about her.”

“That’s fair,” he agreed. “You’re the guest, after all. Since you broached the topic seamlessly, let’s talk about fairness.” He eyed her predatorily; those greyish-blue eyes bored into her; there was something very wrong with those eyes of his. “You know what’s not fair?” They glimmered little lamps dancing in the dark hollows of his face. “Stealing.” The crowd let out a delighted ‘ooh’. Twilight shook her head in astonishment.

“Stealing?”

He nodded. “How does Equestria feel about having a thief as a princess?” His audience lapped it up with a chorus of indignant shouts, clarifying their thoughts on the concept.

“I have never stolen a thing in my life.”

“No?” He pursed his lips together like two slimy worms. Twilight only noticed the yellow tinge of his teeth or the patchwork nature of his suit. “The hippogriffs would disagree.”

She turned her head downward, brow furrowed in consternation. The shame and guilt washed over her, recalling her lowest moment in her short stint as the Princess of Friendship. Even when she had made amends and ponies had assured her that she was only doing what she thought she was right, it did not dampen the feeling. “T-that was different,” she stammered. “I-I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t thinking. Equestria was on the brink. Things were desperate. The h-hippogriffs forgave me.” She rattled off each line faster than the one before. It mattered nought to the ponies arrayed before her. The boos rang out with a ferocity, echoing round and round, a cacophony of condemnation.

“But you did it anyway!” he declared over the din. “You were willing to take another nation's only defence to fix the fact that you were too weak to stop the Storm King.” He pointed his hoof at her; his head spun to the crowd, shock and anger dancing across his features. His befuddlement only seemed them on.

“I had to!” she exclaimed, standing from her seat. The ponies paid no mind. Angry shadows, snarling visages bayed against, shouting cruel insults—an amorphous swarm of outrage. The lights burned brighter; her skin felt aflame.

Thief.

Liar.

Unworthy.

She screamed, but all she could hear was the host’s voice calling out.

“Don’t go anywhere, folks. We’re just getting started.”

Twilight awoke in a cold sweat. The moon hung high in the sky; its pale light poured through the open window. The chilly breeze washed over her, and she gripped the blankets with ragged breaths.

She blinked and turned to her clock. It read four fifteen. It is too early to wake to set the moon down, but it is too late to return to meaningful sleep. She had experienced nightmares before, but rarely had they felt as real as the one she had just experienced.

Luna had once explained to her that the world of dreams was not mere thoughts but the conscious spirit bringing unbridled imagination to life. It was a form of the world between worlds, mostly harmless.

Harmless.

The word rang around her head. It was nothing more than a silly nightmare. She threw her head back to the pillow. A deep sigh escaped her lips.

The sun would rise soon, and the world would need its princess to be fresh and ready to meet it. Harrowed words faded away before sunlit skies and the night’s terrors soon a distant passing thing.

Only a dream, she told herself.

Only a dream.

Author's Note

It's been a while. Life has been busy. I really have been trying to get this out for the past couple of months. It's my first multi-chapter story in years and one with plenty of action to boot. I hope people enjoy it.