Some time later…

Okay breathe in breathe out calm down be calm it’s okay I’m just dreaming it’s fine it’s okay its fine

A brown paper bag was glued to Cyrus’ mouth, rapid and gasping breaths causing it to expand and crumple in rapid cycles. He sat in the middle of the throne room, about three paces from where his bike lay. Surrounding him were colorful cartoonish mini-horses. Each had not so cartoonish and incredibly sharp medieval weapons pointed directly at him.

Okay okay okay okay it's fine everything's fine I'm just dreaming I’ll wake up soon and then I’ll be in bed maybe I’m in the hospital maybe I don’t know were there drugs in the house did I accidentally eat some LSD or whatever I knew I shouldn’t have gotten those dodgy yellow label mushrooms please let this be fake-

Cyrus is wrenched from his panicked thinking by a dainty and elegant ahem, his eyes instantly darting to the source. The Big White One, the one who convinced the Big Blue One to not turn Cyrus into human sashimi, looks at him with a strained smile. The White One takes a gentle step forward.

“Pardon me,” The White One begins in a female cadence. Her voice flows like honey, smooth and elegant. It could soothe stormy seas and calm the most rabid of beasts. It was like water to a thirsty man, angels descending from on high.

So, naturally, Cyrus’ panic increased.

Horses aren’t supposed to talk! WHY THEY HELL ARE THEY TALKING?! Cyrus screams internally.

“Are you ready to talk?” The White One gently asks.

FUCK NO!

Cyrus violently shakes his head in response while increasing his breathing frequency. The paper bag strained to contain the force at which air was being pushed into it. With a tired pop, it bursts, gaining an undignified yelp out of Cyrus. Startled, he falls to the floor and immediately assumes the fetal position. Next to the Big White One, the Big Blue One snorts.

To Cyrus, the Big Blue One’s voice was like cock and ball torture in audio form. Cyrus wondered if she had swallowed a microphone or simply had a subwoofer installed in her throat.

“Luna, what did you do to… uhh it?” The White One’s voice floats over Cyrus’ panicked hyperventilation.

Wait she has a name Luna thats weird what the fuck talking horses!!!!!!!!!! what the hell is going on and they weren’t even touching their weapons some have wings some have glowing horns is that how they move-

“I didn’t do anything, sister! This… creature had somehow evaded our guard and infiltrated the throne room! If it did not falter, its attempt on my life may have been successful!” The blue one, Luna, sounded pissed.

Sisters they’re sisters okay at least that makes sense they both have horns and wings and… attempt on her life??????? what is the Blue One talking about why is the horse talking she almost stabbed me in the face what the hell I want to go back to my shitty little apartment in shitty fucking Clapham-

“Lu, I really don’t think it’s trying to kill you. If it was, I highly doubt that it would be curled up on the floor having a panic attack right now.”

“It must be a trick! To let our guard down. It is a threat, it has developed some form of powerful concealing magics, its mana signature is invisible. Even I, with my magical prowess, was unable to detect it!”

“I dunno, Lu, I’m not sure-”

“EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!!” Cyrus screamed in his best imitation of Luna’s voice, his burnt brain having reached his utmost limit. Shakily, he scrambles to his feet, his full height just about meeting the White One’s eyes.

“You! You! You! You! And you! SHUT UP!!!!!” Cyrus punctuates each you with a sharp jab of his finger. The White One takes a shocked step back, brow furrowing. Luna’s features tense.

“You’re not supposed to fucking talk!” Cyrus arms make gesturing sweeps toward every horse present, he then violently jabs his thumb into his chest, “I’m supposed to talk! I’m supposed to be delivering pizza right now! I’m not here to kill any of you freaky fucking horses!”

A gasp circles the room.

“Whorse! Thou failed an attempt on our life and now wish to insult us?! Insolent! Prepare thyself! Thy end is now!” Luna’s sweeping voice blasts Cyrus back a foot. For the third time this evening, Cyrus’ body impacts the floor, his hands clasping his ears in a futile attempt to block out the acoustic assault.

“Luna! Let’s not be so hasty, it is clearly confused!” the White One reasons as she gallops in front of Luna, putting a firm hoof down. The White One looks over her wither at Cyrus’ pathetic prone body. Turning back, she shoots Luna a sheepish look.

“Besides, it looks pretty… weak. Physically. Concealing magic or not I don’t think this creature would be able to withstand a melee with you. Or any guard. Just let me talk to the poor creature.”

“Fine, Tia, do as thou see fit.” Luna huffs, fixing upon Cyrus a death glare hot enough to evaporate water.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell. Can someone put ‘er on mute?” Cyrus moaned, cockney slipping through his practiced posh accent as he tried to rub the pain out of his ringing ears. He craned himself upright, racing thoughts now cleansed by the sonic bath he had just received. ‘Tia’ clears her throat again, gaining Cyrus’ attention.

“I’m sorry, please forgive my sister, I do not know where you come from but here in Equestria the word whorse is incredibly rude. It is used as an insult to describe… promiscuous ponies. In a very insulting way.” Celestia sternly, but gently, lectures. Cyrus blinks owlishly in return. He narrows his eyes and scrunches his face, clearly in deep thought.

Wait. Promiscuous? Synonyms: slut, harlot, whore, skank... Whore. Horse… Whorse? It clicks in Cyrus’ head.

Despite the situation he found himself in. Despite the various weapons that have been pointed at his face in the past hour. Despite the trembling fear and terror Cyrus felt at the moment, he could not help but throw his head back and laugh like a hyena on gas. The White One looks on in concern.

“I - aha- I didn’t mean - ahahaha - my bad-” Cyrus attempts an apology, unable to finish a coherent sentence between mad bursts of cackling. Luna’s death glare intensifies, upgrading from evaporating water to melting steel.

Without warning, Cyrus goes completely rigid. Eyes wide and face grim, he swings his hand in a mighty arc to slap himself across the face, knocking the laughter out of his body. The White One raises an eyebrow, her concerned face twisting into worry. Pain having replaced mirth, Cyrus locks eyes with the White One.

“Ahem. I apologize… uhh madame? I guess? I did not know. My bad.” Cyrus apologizes without bursting out into manic panic induced cackles. It was a close call.

“Thank you, apology accepted. Now, it appears we started off on the wrong hoof-”

“Wrong hoof!? No way…” Cyrus interrupts, breaking out into chuckles. Somehow, Luna makes herself look even more pissed. Displeased with the lack of fear being shown by Cyrus, Luna makes herself known by tapping her sword on the tiles, each clink ringing out a clear message: ‘I would literally cut your head off if I could’. Cyrus, having got the message, beats down his hysterics.

“Uhh. Sorry again. My bad. Please continue.”

“It’s okay. As I was saying, we have started off on the wrong hoof. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Celestia,” she gestures a wing toward Luna, ”and this is my sister, Luna. May I ask what your name is?”

“Cyrus. And uh. I’m a he. Just by the way. Not an it, thanks. Nice to meet you. Uhhh Celestia, right? I’m-” He is interrupted by a loud stamp of a hoof.

“Thou shalt address us as our station demands! Your majesty or your royal highness will suffice.” Luna activates the boombox, projecting her glass shattering voice across the room. Everyone around the room cringes as their ears are assaulted for the third time this evening.

“Lu, inside voice please.” Celestia speaks up with all the patience she can muster, her ears flattened against her skull.

Luna harrumphs, landing on her haunches with a metallic clang. To Cyrus’ abject shock, she wills a whetstone into existence. All the while, she keeps her sight trained on Cyrus, her eyes boring into him as if to dare him to step out of line again. She brings her sword to the whetstone.

“Lu, is that really necessary?” Celestia grouses while casting a nonplussed look at her sister.

*Shiiiiiiiing*

“Yes.” Came Luna’s curt response.

Celestia lets out a long and drawn out sigh. Collecting herself, she clears her throat again.

*Shiiiiiiiing*

“As my sister has so deftly pointed out, we are the sovereigns of this nation: Equestria. May I ask, given that you seem to be unfamiliar with your surroundings, where you are from?” Celestia gently poses the question, trying her very hardest to put Cyrus at ease despite somepony’s best efforts.

*Shiiiiiiiing*

Cyrus’ eyes dart between Celestia and Luna, each sinister scrape of Luna’s blade on the whetstone causing him to flinch.

“C-Clapham… uhhh…” Cyrus stops mid sentence, an idea clicking into place in his head, “yeah I’m fucking dying, innit.”

As if on cue.

*Shiiiiiiiing*

Cyrus could have sworn he saw Celestia’s left eye twitch.

“I can assure you that you that nopony here will attempt to kill you.” Celestia volleys, maintaining an air of calm and control. Luna rolls her eyes.

“I… don't mean it like that. I can’t lie, I’m pretty sure this is all happening in my head right now. As in this is the last thing my dying brain is doing to comfort me before I bleed to death. Bit of a strange way to do it though.” Cyrus returns in a surprisingly calm tone of voice, his deep fried brain at rest now that it has finally cooked up a reasonable explanation for his current predicament.

*Shiiiiiiiing*

The twitch intensifies. Celestia does her level best to give Cyrus a warm and reassuring look.

“Well, Mr. Cyrus, I can assure you that what you are experiencing now is definitely real.”

“Nah. I don’t think so.”

“I beg to differ-”

“Nope. 闭嘴，滚 [Shut up, fuck off],” Cyrus dramatically flicks his hand to a window, finger pointed directly at it, “should be dead any second now.”

Again, on cue.

*Shiiiiiiiing*

Celestia vehemently regrets waking up now. Plucking the last dregs of her patience from the depths of her soul, she steels herself for one last attempt at reason, restarting: “Well you’re not dead yet? And if I recall it has been about an hour and a half since you were… discovered here.”

Cyrus would have loved to ignore that piece of logic. It would have made things easier for him, better to live in ignorance after all. However, his brain, the traitorous and masochistic wretch it was, acted differently.

“Huh. Um. I suppose that makes sense… So. Uh. Oh god. This is real?” Celestia nods at Cyrus’ statement, concern visiting her features again as Cyrus slowly sinks to the floor.

Okay I’m not dead or dying is that really fact I don’t know maybe wait does that mean I’ll never see home again wait no I have to be dying right there’s no other explanation but it has been a really long time I’m stuck here I’ll never see them again I-

Suddenly, Cyrus collapses, his brain deciding that enough was enough. Luna scoffs, unimpressed. She disapparates her whetstone.

“Perhaps the worst assassination attempt I have ever borne witness to. Even still, we must stay vigilant.” Luna comments. Trotting over, she then prods Cyrus’ body with a hoof, dissecting him in her mind and pondering exactly where her blade should strike to dispatch him as quickly as possible.

Celestia’s sighs, massaging her temples with her hoof in a vain attempt to kill the oncoming migraine. Tonight was going to be a long night.

.

.

.

.

*Clink, clink, clink*

The sound of chains rattling fills the air as Cyrus shambles behind Luna. Celestia, abandoning Cyrus for sleep, had left him in the care of a very grumpy looking Luna. A horrid turn of events for the poor, confused human.

Luna had insisted that he be kept in chains, much to the ire of Celestia-

Well, actually, Luna had insisted that he be thrown into the dungeon with no less than six guards posted at his cell door. Also much to the ire of Celestia.

Celestia, desiring nothing more than to retire to bed and nurse her growing headache, had painfully negotiated a middle ground. Cyrus would be in the care of Luna. In chains. Those were non negotiable.

Yipee!

Better than whatever medieval torture dungeon they no doubt have here, Cyrus mused as he shambled along in his uncomfortable getup. The handcuffs - hoofcuffs? - were incredibly uncomfortable, certainly designed for any creature but humans. They bit into Cyrus’ wrists, gnashing against steadily chafing skin.

Won’t be long before they start bleeding. Christ… Cyrus inwardly lamented as he tried his hardest to keep in step with Luna. Fortunately, he wasn’t being forced to drag his chains around, nor were there heavy weights attached to the ends of the chains. They were currently being held by the contingent of guards accompanying him to his new abode.

Apparently he was super dangerous or something.

All things considered, it wasn’t the chains or hoofcuffs or various other items attached to Cyrus’ body that pissed him off the most. It was his shiny new collar. An incredibly gaudy and downright painful looking contraption, it was orange with jet black spikes jutting out at regular intervals along its circumference. Wearing it wasn't painful in the conventional sense, it was just really irritating. Similar to a tie, it was slightly too tight so that it’s always uncomfortable but not tight enough to choke you. It also buzzed for some reason, tickling Cyrus’ Adam's apple in the most aggravating way.

All in all, it looked, felt, and even smelled like it belonged in a BDSM deviant’s closet.

“Okay, listen, I’m okay with the handcuffs, I get it. And the arm and leg chains. And whatever the hell you put around my waist. I am begging you, can we please do away with the collar? It’s really really uncomfortable. And it makes me feel like I’m in a porno.” Cyrus bemoaned, earning an evil glare from Luna as she looked at him from over her wither.

“No. Thou shalt stay in chains until thee proves thine innocence,” Luna haughty retorts, her eyes narrowing further, “We do not understand the dark magics thou hast employed to hide thine mana signature. We shan’t allow thee to spread thy influence.”

The archaic speech was really starting to piss Cyrus off.

Self-preservation be damned!

“Alright then, my apologies. I shan’t question thy wisdom and most shakespearean modeof speech any longer, Your royal, esteemed and fair, highness. Bloody ponce.” Cyrus jeers with sarcasm so thick it could be bottled and sold. With a sudden angry stomp, Luna brings her march to an abrupt stop, startling the accompanying guard. She spins around.

If looks could kill…

Cyrus jerks forward, a sudden blue force ripping at his chains and tugging him to a kneeling position.

“What didst thou call us?” Luna hisses, bringing her muzzle uncomfortably close to Cyrus’ face. Cyrus, instead of backing down like the screaming voice of reason was telling him, chose to stand his ground. He brought his lips into the most contemptuous sneer he could muster.

“Nothing. Your royal highness. Your excellency must have misheard this lowly peasant’s uneducated and animalistic speech.” Cyrus languidly replies, dragging his vowels as much as possible to leave room for the concentrated sarcasm of the entire British isles. Luna’s fur bristles, her fiery eyes almost setting him ablaze. She opens her mouth. Cyrus braces for the incoming sonic megablast.

Her lip quivers. Sadness?

All that comes from Luna is a frustrated snort. Stamping her hoof once more, she relinquishes her magical hold on Cyrus’ chains.

The march resumes in thick and silent animosity.

.

.

.

.

Bloody?! Why would he call me that! Luna paced her room in a panicked, sleepless gait, How does he know?! Impossible! That part of history has long since been forgotten!

Luna had only felt panic a fleeting few times in her entire existence. Anger? Sure. Frustration? Plenty. But rarely had Luna ever panicked.

She did not panic when her hoof got stuck on a root while engaging an ursa minor. She did not panic when her squadron was ambushed, half of them wiped out in one volley of arrows. But somehow, one word from the newly arrived alien had completely set her off.

Normally, she would immediately head to the training range to blow off steam. Maybe disintegrate a dummy or twenty. That was not an option this time. It was designated sleeping time for Luna. That meant that there were ponies about.

Ponies who would stare.

Ponies who would shiver and slink away at the sight of her.

Ponies who wound her in ways that they will never understand.

So she performed her rapid, self-preserving gait in her room. The distant scenes of her past lash from the recesses of her mind, dragging her through that sordid memory lane kicking and screaming.

Her enemies fell like dominoes. Her fangs and blades sunk into their necks like a knife through butter. She feasted.

She would parade the rolling fields, head held high. Her brothers and sisters in arms would faithfully follow her conquest.

“We are invincible! Nothing can stand in our way!” They would jubilantly sing as they marched alongside her. This brought her joy.

She would win Equestria her rightful lands. She would bring prosperity to all. She would cut down anything foolish enough to stand in her and her sister’s will.

And so she shall bathe in the blood of Equestria's enemies and win victory after victory after victory…

Luna quickens her pace, her heartbeat pumping through her ears. The aching pain of old wounds shatters her defenses like glass, laid bare in her mind.

“I heard she performed some form of ritual with them. Gave her powers. But she requires sacrifices…” Come whispers in the night.

I bear this curse for you!

“Apparently, she can go berserk when she’s upset. The battle of Dyrant river…”

They would have slaughtered us if I had not intervened!

“She’s like them. Drinks blood like them. Verily, I do not feel safe with her as ruler… Keep this between us though? I don’t want her to overhear, she might come after me…”

I would never harm my countryponies! I……

Luna awakens from her harsh reminiscence huddled in a corner. Her muzzle is firmly buried beneath her wing, tears winding freely down her face.

I was once loved…

Slowly, Luna lifts her head up, catching her reflection from the wardrobe mirror out of the corner of her eye. She allows her tired eyes to drift toward it. Her reflection stares back, hollow and broken. Luna lets out a shuddering breath.

This is not… I will not… Luna screws her face in rare determination, I will not subject myself to such lows! I will prove myself to them! From the depths of her soul, a flutter of desperate hope rises.

He… he must be evil! Luna clamors to her hooves, her mind dead set on a single goal.

When he reveals his true colors, I will be there! Like I always was! I SHALL PROTECT THEM! AS I ALWAYS HAVE!

.

.

.

.

Approximately a week later

Cyrus sat on his cushion, pondering exactly when and where it all had gone horribly wrong.

Was it picking music in A levels or GCSE? When exactly did I think it was a good idea to pursue music? Had to have been the first time I heard Symphonie Fantastique… Yeah it’s for sure that French fuck’s fault, Cyrus bewailed in his head, being sure to curse every possible thing, god, and whatever in existence. Especially Hector Berlioz. Hector got twenty extra curses.

If I hadn’t had an interest in music, I would have done engineering or law or medicine or some shit at uni, then I wouldn’t have had to make bloody deliveries to bloody Great Guildford Street and end up in talking pony horse magic bullshit land…

To say that the past week has been an ordeal would be the understatement of the century. Even basic things like eating were horrendous for the poor human. Cyrus was subject to porridge and salad at every miserable meal. Ponies did not eat meat because of course they bloody don’t. When he did scrounge up the courage to request some meat to round out his diet, he was met with the wrath of Big Blue……

“The creature eats flesh!”

“Listen, I’m not going to eat any ponies! Relax. It’s just that we’re omnivores-”

“Nay! Falsehoods! We have seen thy teeth. Thou art carnivorous! How can we trust thee not to lose control?”

“For fuck’s sake!”

Celestia, watching this unfold while trying her hardest not to explode, smashed her hoof on the table……

Big White, as she often did, stepped in to smooth things out. Much to Big Blue’s chagrin, Cyrus would be allowed to eat fish for one meal everyday.

What’s her fucking problem? Cyrus ponders as he swaddles his makeshift blanket-toga closer to himself. It wasn’t that he wasn’t allowed to keep his clothes, although Big Blue did insist on incinerating them. It was just that today was laundry day. Cyrus’ clothes, fresh out of the sink, were currently draped all over his room in haphazard fashion.

To be honest, not much of a change from his abode on earth.

The only constant in Cyrus’ daily drip were his chains and collar. At the very least the hoofcuffs had been done away with after Cyrus bled at least a pint of blood onto the carpet. Of course, it was somehow his fault. Something about ‘splattering thy vile blood as a means to corrupt those passing by!’ Or something.

Whatever that meant.

However, these daily ordeals had evolved into somewhat of a comfort for Cyrus. He found that, although physically he was suffering, it was much better than being allowed to sit and think. That always ended in disaster……

“I… do not have good news on that front,” Celestia gently said to Cyrus while desperately trying to give Cyrus a comforting smile.

“Cmon, just give it to me straight. No sugarcoating.” Cyrus responded, his voice balking under the pressure of crushed hope. His eyes refuse to leave the floor.

“Ordinarily, most magical events produce a signature. However, your transportation… is somehow completely void of a magical signature,” Celestia’s voice wavers, the practice she had done this morning in the mirror faltering, “we’ve checked every avenue. Chaotic, harmonious, emotive, evocation. Nothing. WIthout the signature, we are flying blind…” Celestia trails off, the sheer despair emanating from across the room robs her of speech.

I’m never going to see home again.

And with that, the tears begin. They pause and waver every so often, but never end……

Sometimes he’d scream into his pillow until his throat went sore. Sometimes he’d sit in the corner of his room like a ghastly hollow, unresponsive until the guards burst in to clamp him in his chains. Sometimes he’d stand dangerously close to his window, thinking about doing it. There were many close calls.

Cyrus’ eyes glance toward his captor. Big Blue sat upon her throne like Ozymandias, complete with sneer of cold command and all such adornments. Cyrus really hated Big Blue.

Of course Big Blue Bitch here just had to take charge of me. What is her fucking problem!? Cyrus moaned to himself. He knew better now than to speak. First evening notwithstanding, last time he lipped off he ended up getting dunked in the nearby fountain. Magic didn’t affect him due to his alleged lack of a ‘mana signature’ but it did affect his chains. A fact that Big Blue liked to remind him of. A lot. The panic rises.

At least killing me would end up with Big Blue in big trouble. As much as it annoys her, she’ll probably keep me protected, Cyrus reasoned with himself, trying to bat down the rising anxiety brought on by the memory of his recent trip to the fountain. Cyrus knew that all any of these ponies-with-horns had to do to kill him would be to grip his collar and start shrinking. Or to grab his chains and start pulling in opposite directions. Or just kinda simultaneously stab him with ten-

Ah, there You are. Was beginning to wonder when you’d show up, I missed you last night, Cyrus thought, looking upward at His Monster. Its formless mass writhing and slithering, it cracks open its maw in a shrill laugh.

Look at you. SO helpless! It taunts, mocking laughter bouncing through the halls.

SO alone! It screeches while reeling its head back in joy and glee. Cyrus turns away.

Ha, alone? Still got you, mate. You can fuck right off, I don’t have time for You today. Cyrus retorts, causing the monster to writhe in laughter.

No time for Me? There is always time for Me. His Monster gently slides to Cyrus’ side, wrapping its fiendish appendages around his shoulders.

芒刺在背 [A thorn in my side], not the first time, not the last. Cyrus sets his jaw, bracing for the incoming war.

Ah yes… but this time it’s different. How are you going to get yourself out of this one, old friend? It slithers behind Cyrus, looming over him like a shadow. He knows better than to look, he must prepare.

Like I always have, Cyrus plants his imaginary feet in defiance. The battlefield comes into view.

What? With your irritating idioms and proverbs? Oh I bet you’re about to say something stupid like: 水满则溢 [Like how filling a full cup forces water out, misfortune will leave when there is too much; things will get better eventually]. It smashes against Cyrus, attacking his cracks like a rabid dog.

For a moment, It wins. Cyrus’ head turns halfway. It vibrates with glee.

Give in! I am trying to help you… It hisses, egging him on.

Better to light a candle than curse the darkness. Cyrus wrenches his head backwards and focuses his stare on the double doors as His Monster stirs behind him.

Ha! That one’s not even Chinese. What's the matter? Running out of steam? Jeering and shaking, it tries to recapture Cyrus’ attention.

Even if my situation is hopeless, I won’t give in. Remember? I promised You. 留得青山在，不怕没柴烧 [Where there is life, there is hope], Cyrus responds. His Monster slinks behind him in agitation.

Well that’s all very inspiring and whatever, but I know Big Blue wont be finished for another two hours and a half if memory serves. We can keep dancing to your vain tune, It whispers gently like a breeze. Cyrus finally turns to face It.

Go on then, I’ll lead. They lock eyes. Hand on waist, tendrils on shoulder, they start their vile dance with practiced familiarity.

To the side, Luna stares onward, dancing her own vicious dance.

.

.

.

.

Luna smashes her hind legs into another dummy, sending splinters sailing through the air. Unhappy with the speed at which the dummy was dismembered, she shakes her hind legs in an attempt to banish the residual stiffness brought on by five hours of uninterrupted sitting.

Right, three more of these then she fucks off and flys a few laps, Cyrus recalled, perched on his trusty cushion. This was routine for Cyrus now. Luna would drag him down to the training range for her nightly wind down routine.

Cyrus was pretty sure this was meant to scare the shit out of him. A childish tactic, a crude tactic, graceless and obvious.

But so incredibly effective, especially when she literally cut a dummy so swiftly it stayed upright until she pushed the top half over. So Cyrus sat there, shit successfully scared out of him. At least for the first few nights.

It was incredibly difficult not to imagine that he may or may not be on the receiving end at some point. However, repetition has slaughtered the novelty. Cyrus often debated whether or not slow clapping would be appropriate.

Nah. Definitely not appropriate given that’ll probably push this crazy fucker over the edge, Cyrus thought as Luna disembowels another dummy with a firm strike to its torso. Just what is her problem with me?

Celestia had been nice enough, often open for a chat as long as if You-Know-Who wasn’t in the room staring daggers. She’d even slip him a cuppa if he asked nicely. From what he could gather, the two sisters had a rather strenuous relationship. Cyrus bore witness to many tense exchanges between the two. Conversation between the two often never evolving past pleasantries.

Luna’s probably a spoiled posh brat. Too eager to hold her status above everything and everyone. Maybe she’s racist or something I don’t know, about par for the course for a boujiee. Although maybe not? She did shout at that guard for saying what I assume is a racist comment. ‘Wall clinger’. Apt slur for-

Cyrus’ inner abstractions are interrupted by Luna striding up toward him.

“We shall be flying laps for the next half an hour. We expect thee to stay vigilant with our charge,” She firmly orders while flapping the tightness out of her wings. Satisfied by the dutiful salute, she gusts off, gracefully lifting herself toward the night sky.

Can’t lie, she looks really cool when she does that. I’d compliment her but she’d probably tell me to kill myself. Or say she’d do it herself. Or something like: ‘thou ruffian art not worthy enough to gaze upon our form!’ Cyrus jested with himself.

Alone at last, Cyrus relaxes into his cushion, content with his thirty minutes of peace.

At least until the siren call of boredom wrests him from his calm, jerking him into restlessness. Ordinarly, music would be Cyrus’ escape from the clutches of insipidness. Unfortunately, Big Blue took hisphone away.

Not that it matters, haven't seen a bloody socket here since I’ve arrived. Cyrus inwardly groused.

He lets out a drawn out and throaty aughhhhhhhh, his battlecry against boredom. A few metallic clinks make themselves known to Cyrus as the guard behind him flinches.

Last time I tried to chat with one of these bat ponies I got the ‘sorry sir, under order of the motherfucking crown, I can’t talk’. Maybe this time…

“Sooooo… uhh. You like uhh… sports? Uhhh… foot- hoofball?” Cyrus starts.

Smooth one you bloody tosser, you don't even know what hoofball is! Cyrus chastises mentally.

The guard does not respond, opting to stare anywhere but where Cyrus was. Rearranging his chains, which were currently attached to heavy weights, Cyrus turns to face the guard.

“Um. Nice weather we’re having.”

Fuck’s sake you British wanker!

No response.

“Okay, listen, I know you’re not supposed to talk to me, but please I am going fucking crazy from the lack of human- er, pony contact!” Cyrus desperately begs the poor, flustered guard. The guard gives Cyrus an incredibly apologetic look, constantly flicking their eyes between him and the sky where Luna had disappeared off to.

“Please!” Cyrus rattles his chains in a begging motion. The guard’s stoicism remains untarnished. Immeasurably disappointed, bored, and thoroughly embarrassed, Cyrus begins the retreat toward his former position.

“Ahem. Um. I support the Crusaders.” A timid, definitely female, voice calls out to him from behind. Cyrus immediately shoots back around.

“Ah! Yeah! Uh. Crusaders! Ah,” Cyrus rapidly starts, overjoyed that he’d finally broken through, “okay, not going to lie, I kinda led you on a bit. I actually have no clue what hoofball is… Uhh is it kinda like, you have 11 a side and you have to get a ball into a net to score?” The last few sentences spoken with such vehement embarrassment it could kill a small elephant.

“Well, there are 11 players from each team, but we don’t exactly have a net. It’s more like a… zone?” She nervously replies, her ears constantly pivoting like a radar scanner.

“Ah! So more like rugby. Although that’s either 7 a side or 15,” Cyrus reasons aloud before it clicks, “American Football! Um. Hoofball. You score touchdowns?”

“Yes, we do. You have a similar game where you’re from?”

“Yeah! We do, although I didn’t follow it as closely as football- er hoofball- er soccer.”

Damn you Americans! Cyrus curses to himself.

“Oh! That’s quite an interesting coincidence. We also have soccer here, it’s really popular in Germaney and Trottingham. What team did you support? Maybe there’s a version of it here too!” The guard excitedly starts, former rigid caution thrown to the wind.

Puffing out his chest, Cyrus prepares his speech.

“Of course, as any sane individual born in the concrete shitholes of north London, I support the one and only Arsenal!” Cyrus widely gesticulates, flinging his chains through the air in excited pride. The guard giggles at his antics, finally put at ease.

Suddenly, a terrible thought enters Cyrus’ mind, freezing him in place. It causes him to shiver and shudder with a primal and evil fear.

“D-don’t tell me- You said that- Trottingham!” Cyrus wildly starts, his eyes shrunk into pinpricks, “Don’t tell me… TROTTINGHAM HOTSPUR EXISTS!” The guard reels back in laughter.

“I’m sorry to- ha -inform you, sir, t-that- haha -Trottingham Hotspur does exist.” She responds between fits of giggles. Cyrus flings himself backward as if he had been shot in the head, letting out a ‘nooooooooooooo’ of abject despair that would make Darth Vader blush. The guard is left in stitches. Cyrus clamors upright and onto his knees. He strikes a begging pose.

“At least tell me Arsenal is real!” Cyrus pleads, eyes shining with mirth. The guard bursts out in another fit of giggles.

“I- ahahah- I’m happy to inform you that they do indeed exist!” She responds, struggling to contain herself. Cyrus tips his head to the sky and shoots out a primal cry of relief toward the heavens.

“THANK GOD! Nooooooorth London forever,” Cyrus snaps his head down to look at the giggling guard, “you don’t know how much of a relief that is for me. Uhh… miss?” Cyrus trails off to allow the guard to respond.

“Cutlass. Pleasure to meet you, mister?” She offers Cyrus the same courtesy.

“Cyrus.”

“Well met, Cyrus. That was quite the display of passion. You remind me of a friend from Hornsey who has the same distaste for Trottingham as you do.”

“Again, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that actually, Cutlass. It’s really nice to have at least a tiny bit of familiarity here…” Cyrus’ tone journeys into sadness. He shakes his head with a sigh.

“You know, it’s been fucked ever since I came here to be honest. Like you’re actually the first person- pony, sorry, that I’m having an actual conversation with.”

“I… I’m sorry about that, really. I wish I could help but… I can’t really do much about it because… well. You know better than most.” She responds, sitting next to Cyrus in a show of companionship. Cyrus lets out a huff at the vague mention of You-Know-Who.

“Yeah, not to slag off your boss but she’s a right fuckin’ prick.” Cutlass shrinks back at Cyrus’ violent statement, ears back on high alert.

“Shhhhh! Don’t say that so loud!” She hisses.

“And what? She’ll cut my head off? Yeah, mate, she was going to do that anyway…”

“It’s not that!” Cutlass punctuates her statement with a passionate stomp. Cyrus is taken aback by Cutlass’ sudden conviction and firmness. Cyrus gives her a quizzical look. Her golden eyes reflect the care she is selecting her next words with.

“The situation is very complicated. She… She hasn’t been around for a long time. About a thousand years to be exact,” Cyrus’ eyes go as wide as dinner plates at the revelation. Cutlass sweeps the room once more with her ears before continuing: ”She was banished to the moon by her sister. It’s been really hard for-”

Cutlass’ ears shoot upright. Like a flash, she returns to her post. Cyrus gets the message immediately, he spins around, desperately untangling his chains and arranging them like they were before.

Luna swoops into the room with a refined gust of her wings, lazily landing on her hooves. Silver blade clutched firmly in her blue aura, she summons a dummy.

Cyrus puts on as straight of a face he can, his mind rushing with Cutlass’ revelation and the muted excitement of having finally spoken to someone new. It’s almost enough to block out the sounds of Luna’s morbid martial display.

Wait so… a thousand years is a really long time… That explains the way she talks. And the unfamiliarity with… She’s like me? Cyrus abstracts, eyes narrowing onto Luna’s form.

Then what is her FUCKING PROBLEM?!

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.

.

Kew gardens is always beautiful in the springtime, Cyrus would always make a point to go. Coronation meadow, a favorite of Cyrus, is where he found himself. Sprawling to his left and right are the myriad of British wildflowers poking through the ground, each proudly sticking their flower buds upwards in a show of vitality against the universe. Cyrus stops to admire them. Even if they haven’t bloomed in full, Cyrus preferred it this way. It was life affirming to him, watching the struggle of nature as it grasped toward beauty and life.

The moon hung in the sky, gently beaming its soft silver light on the flora below. Cyrus crouches down to get a better look at a particular flower bush. His eyes trace the bush, moving from flowerbud to flowerbud, trying to find a pattern in the arrangement of the small purple-

Hang on, it’s night. Kew gardens is closed, Cyrus shoots back up, dread creeping into his chest. He shoots up, spinning round to observe his surroundings.

No way I stayed here past close. The security must have missed me… Cyrus trepidatiously tiptoes along the hedges, not wanting to get caught. That would be a very unpleasant mess and he had teaching tomorrow! Not to mention his friends were probably dutifully waiting at home for him to come on League.

“小火，你迷路了吗 [Hey kid, are you lost]?” Cyrus spins on his heels toward the source, eyes wide like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. What greets him is an old man, sitting on a bench. His baby blue suit and crisp red tie almost glow against the moonlight. Somehow Cyrus missed him on his walk.

The flowers are too pretty, what can you do?

“啊！对不起，我留太久了，忘记了时间 [Oh! Sorry, I stayed too long, lost track of time].” Cyrus throws his hands up in an apologetic manner. The old man chuckles, cracking out a smile.

“No problem, I’m not a security guard. Relax, we’re in the same boat. I’ve been waiting for you for too long.” The old man switches to perfect english.

Waiting for me? Cyrus clocks what the old man just said.

The old man’s smile suddenly appears incredibly creepy to Cyrus. The old man pats the spot next to him, motioning for Cyrus to sit.

“Cmon, have a seat. I need to talk to you about something, 红线小子 [red string kid].” The old man says as he reaches into his bag, pulling out a book as thick as his waist. Cyrus scoffs, taking a step back.

“神经病 [You’re crazy].” With that, Cyrus does a 180, putting as much distance between him and the old man as he can. As Cyrus strides away, he hears cackling laughter rising out from behind him. He shakes his head.

London, full of fucking crackheads.

“好吧！我时间多，我们一会聊吧。再见 [Fine! I’ve got loads of time, we can talk later. See ya]!” The old man shouts at the ever receding Cyrus.

Bloody hell, the security here stinks, Cyrus thinks to himself, his eyes flicking up to the signpost. Okay sign says the exit is to the-

Blood.

Pain.

A blade sinking deeper and deeper into Cyrus’ chest, draining his vitality as it plunges, winding its way through his body. Around him, cold golden orbs stare on. Their purple veils masking their mouths as they chant incomprehensible gibberish.

He can’t speak. He can’t scream. The pain is unbearable.

He wants it. Almost desperately.

As if in response, the red blade glows brighter. Twin ribbons are attached to the bottom of the grip. One blue, one red, they flap in the nonexistent gusting wind. Without warning, they shoot out toward Cyrus’ arms, wrapping around his wrists. The chanting gets louder, fervent excitement sweeping the room. The golden orbs look on expectantly. The ribbons pull forward, hilting the blade into his chest.

Cyrus is dying. His life is leaving his body. His vision blurs as he slips… deeper… into…

…

Hunger…

Rip them down! Tear their flesh! Crush their bones! DRINK THEIR BLOOD! Kill! Kill! Kill-

“Bleahrg!” Cyrus shot straight upward in an adrenaline fueled panic, sending the duvet flying in the process. Confused, he rubs at his chest, the dream he had woken from draining from the recesses of his mind. His eyes dart across the room in an attempt to locate any further threats.

Bedside table, wardrobe, drawers, Big Blue, Lamp-

“WHYTHEFUCKAREYOUHERE!?” Cyrus shrieks, throwing his pillow at Luna. It bounces off her magic shield and flops to the floor. Luna’s eyes narrow.

“We detected a vile nightmare originating from thee. Clearly this is how thou cast thy vile, dark spells. When we arrived, thou nightmare disappeared, an obvious attempt at trickery. Tell me, what is thou purpose here? Speak carefully, or face our-”

Luna’s raving rant is cut off by a choked sob.

“Please! I’m begging you! I did *sob* nothing! Please!” Cyrus cries out, his voice straining with the violence at which he was projecting his speech. Luna furrows her brow, her blade quivers in the air.

For a moment, Luna is convinced her sister was right. Cyrus was just a poor, confused creature who had been cruelly dropped into an unfamiliar land by the happenstance of fate. He needed help. He was alone. He was just like her. Maybe she-

NO! He is evil! He has to be! Luna banishes her empathy, bringing her blade closer to Cyrus’ head. The glinting silver catches Cyrus’ peripheral vision, he locks his eyes onto the sword.

“I-I did n-nothing. I just want to go home. Please…” Cyrus begs with a hoarse whisper, unable to contain the fearful shaking. Luna brings her scowling muzzle closer to Cyrus’ face.

I will strike him down! They shall love me for it!

“We are unconvinced with thou paltry acting. We have cast a sound barrier around thou room, there will be no emotional grousing to my sister tonight. Stop stalling. Tell. Me. Why. Thou. Art-”

“I don’t know! I don’t fucking know! It’s like the last five billion times I’ve told you and your sister, I just want to go home! I’M NOT TRYING TO KILL ANYONE!” Cyrus howls at the top of his lungs, sending spittle sailing across the room. Luna’s heart tugs at her mind, begging her to see reason. The cloud of wishful thinking refuses to budge.

“STOP STALLING!” Luna shouts, activating her Royal Canterlot Voice. With a tug of her mind, the flat of her blade makes contact with Cyrus’ cheek. The cold and icy silver drains the warmth from Cyrus’ body. He goes completely rigid.

Fight or flight?

Fight.

“DO IT THEN!” He screams, gripping Luna’s blade in his hand. Luna’s eyes widened in shock, trained on the blood dripping from Cyrus’ hand and onto the bed sheets. Her magical grip weakened for a moment. Cyrus takes advantage, wrenching the blade to his throat.

“Come on! I don’t have ANYTHING to live for anyway! Just slit my fucking throat and be done with it! Anything is better than the FUCKING torture you put me through everyday, you monster!” Cyrus spits through gritted teeth, the pain of his new self inflicted wounds screaming at him to let go. The blade’s soft luminescence grew to illuminate the blood trickling down its length. Luna lets out an uncharacteristic shuddering breath.

Weakness. Cyrus smells it immediately.

“What? Too chicken? Come on, mate, you’ve been drooling over this ever since you met me you fucking cunt. You wait too long and I’ll deprive you of the pleasure.” Cyrus taunts, wet and bitter eyes boring into Luna’s. Her lip quivers.

Cyrus senses it. Killer instinct activates. He violently pushes Luna’s blade away. The magical glow disappears as it clatters to the floor, plunging the room into darkness.

“That's what I thought. No balls. Too weak.” Cyrus jeers with his cracked voice, chewing on each word and spitting them out like venom. At that moment, the clouds move, illuminating Luna’s face. A shiny streak of water ran down the side of her face.

That was all he needed to send the killing blow. His bloodstained hand grabs the back of Luna’s head, wrenching it to his face.

“No wonder your sister wants nothing to do with you. Locked you up for a thousand just to get some peace of fucking mind.” Cyrus relinquishes his hold, flinging his hand as if to dismiss Luna. Blood specks fly from his hand and onto her face. She lets out a choked gasp.

Luna flashes her horn, disappearing with a loud *pop*. Cyrus stares at the empty space.

He rages into the night until he can rage no more.

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What have I done?

What she always did……

Celestia begged her to stop. But she wanted more. She laughed as she watched her sister bleed out onto the floor……

The rebels begged her to stop. But she wanted more. She howled obscenities at them as she razed their homes to the ground……

The griffins and hippogriffs begged her to stop. But she wanted more. She cut them down, as cruelly as she could to serve as a warning……

She weeps into the night until she can weep no more.

Author's Note

Halor. Decided to split this chapter into two parts because it was getting waaaaaaay too long. Chapter three is in the pipeline & will be ready to go in the next few weeks.

Lulu is not being very nice (neither is Cycy to be fair), but can ya really blame em? They're victims of my character sheets.

Also where the fuck is Celestia, amirite? Why isn't she stepping in?! Does she value sleep that highly? I dunno, maybe you'll have to stick around and find outtttttttttttttttttttt .

Sry if this chapter is a bit of a downer, IT'LL GET BETTER PROMISE .

I would like to thank you all for reading my story!

You lot got me into the feature box (for a pretty long time!) and that really means a lot. And thank you all for the kind comments! Hope this chapter delivered on your expectations.

Last thing: Anyone who can spot the ULTRAKILL reference gets +SSStyle and one (1) internet cookie. +ULTRAbrainrot if you respond in image form.