Chapters Awake.
Meesley startles awake. He is still in his bed in his wonderful little home somewhere in Equestria. He still has to check which town he is in currently, but at least nothing about his home changed...hopefully. He gets up, onto his hooves and makes for the kitchen.
He finds his kitchen empty. No family today...or any other day for the past years, for that matter. He quickly changes thoughts to more pleasant things, like...um...tea! Oh he loves tea; that's why he seemingly has cartons upon cartons full of the stuff in his cupboard. When was the last time his favourite was coffee? Eh, anyways, he levitates the kettle onto the stove using his magic and turns the flame on medium.
As the kettle begins to boil, he looks at his surroundings, studying them for any major changes since he went to bed. Meesley has a sort of condition. You may think he is crazy for claiming so, most ponies do, but things around him sometimes change. Now, it would be easy to understand his troubles with change if he was in his later years of life, but today he seemed to be in his 20s. Plus, this isn't the regular type of change, like a favoured restaurant closing or society adapting. This type of change seems much more magical in nature.
The kettle starts to whistle, so he takes it off the heat.
Day by day, massive details about his live seem to just change! One day he was the happiest stallion around, the next he was an important figure in politics, the next he was some bum on the streets. Over the years he got somewhat used to these big changes (not having many expectations for what you will see when opening your eyes helps). Funnily enough, what really trips him up are the small things-like his hair colour-which seem to change at any moment.
As he begins to pour some hot water from his electric kettle into his prepared cup, he begins to worry what his job for the day may be. His condition seems to have no pattern, but certain changes do seem to happen more often than others, so he focuses on learning those as much as he can. Though, sometimes, when the universe really hates him, he simply loses a skill entirely.
As he balances his cup on his leathery wings and raises it to his mouth to drink, he hears a knock on the door.
"Mh," he nearly spills his drink, "Coming!"
He opens the door to see his old school friend, Theta, standing outside. He quickly moves up to her and gives her a big hug.
"Woa," she responds, a bit shocked, "You certainly seem...friendly today!"
"I'm just happy to have you today."
She looks at him, confused. Everypony is always so confused at what he says. When a change happens, and he tries to figure himself out again, they look at him in confusion. When somepony seemingly reappears into his life, they are always confused at his behaviour. Nopony knows what happens to him, nopony ever notices.It's like he is the center of the universe, but all it does is laugh at him...
"So...uh, ready to go or did you need a minute?" she asks.
"Wh- oh yeah!" he lets go. Today he...helps out at the market! Thank Celestia, he got a memory!
He rushes inside and makes sure the house is ready for him to leave. A few moments later he returns and is ready to go do some work. As they trot to the center of town, he plays a little game of 'guess where-the-heck I am today!' Seemingly, he is quite far towards the eastern coast of Equestria, but certainly still Equestria.
Theta takes a turn, going through one of the smaller alleys, so Meesley follows, and they end up in the middle of the market. A cart nearly hits Meesley, so he tries to duck back into the alley only to hit the soft canvas of a tent set up behind him...in the middle of the market.
"Sorry!" the pony drawing the cart calls out to him.
"You gotta be a little more careful, Meesley! If you run over a whole tent, you'll never be able to pay back your loans!" Zeta warns him as she continues to navigate through the streets in front of him.
No idea what she was talking about, but he seemingly had quite a bit of work to do, so he simply followed her quietly. The two eventually reached a small stall selling a variety of apples. This was where they worked, helping a rather old stallion keep a business alive he and his made a long time ago.
"Get your apples, come get fresh apples here! We have every kind! Fuji, Honeycrisp, Gala, Golden Delicious, even Pine!" the old stallion called.
"Pine?" Meesley asked, walking behind the counter, careful not to knock over any fruit with his roughed wing feathers.
"Yes, Meesley! Never heard of Pine-apples?"
"That's not..." he began to protest, but thought it would be better to preserve his little retaining sanity. He instead asked, "So, sir, what did you need from us today?"
"Oh, just the same as always, " the old pony briefly stopped, Meesley had no idea what the heck that meant, "Shining and stacking, until I need anything else from you."
Oh! He could do that! Granted, even a foal could do that, but it seemed like easier work than on other days. So Theta and Meesley started to polish the apples and...pineapples, and stacking them-sorted-in the display case.
After a few hours of doing this, Meesley grew somewhat tired and asked for a brief break.
He decided to trot around the market for a bit, getting some air and allowing his muscles to relax somewhat. Eventually, he decided he should treat himself a little for his hard work. He couldn't find a single lemonade stand in the whole market. Wouldn't be the first time a whole concept disappeared from his life...but he did find a nice little stall for orange juice.
Using his wing, he placed 5bits onto the counter, still deciding what exactly he wanted. This place seemed to sell every variation of orange juice under the sun. Mixed with apple juice, sugar, water, cinnamon, lemon slices, even one simply titled 'spicy.'
"What can I get ya?" the somewhat young mare currently working the stand asked. She was a white pegasus, so he likely didn't have all too much time to think before he was at the end of her patience. It's somewhat of a stereotype, but Meesley has met so many ponies that he was able to confirm some of them.
"Uh, do you have some sort of recommendation?" he asked, airing on the side of caution. While it was true that this conversation likely never happened the next time he wakes up, he still wanted to avoid conflict as much as possible.
"Oh, I enjoy a mix of these three," she said, pointing at the board containing all the possible variations.
"Then I will take an or-apple juice with exactly that!" he responded, catching a small change.
She looks at him confused, of course. He subconsciously starts to frown. She looks back into her stall, pausing for a few seconds-thrown off-and then begins her work. Meesley decides to look at the nearby clocktower, which moved A LOT more than he expected.
He turns back to her and says, "Sorry to bother you, but could you hasten just a tad? I really need to get back to work!"
She doesn't really speed up, but the white pony is also almost done with his order, so he only really had to wait another 30 seconds before winging over his order.
"Thank you, you can keep the change!" he says as his horn lights up and he uses his magic to hold his cup while galloping off.
The white mare stares after him with big eyes, she yells "Wait, you're a-" before getting out of earshot.
Back at the stall, Meesley's hooves screech to a halt on the stone ground. By now, he had finished his hot chocoa, so he ran to the back to begin apologizing to the old mare running her business. This is why he doesn't like bothering with names. Luckily, she is pretty quick to forgive him, saying something about being young once too and all that sentimental stuff. It seems that Eta also pulled a bit of double duty and did some of his share. He'll have to make it up to her later. He went back and started working again.
At the end of the day, he helped clean up and 'close shop,' as they say. He decided that Eta really didn't need to pay for her dinner today, so he offered to purchase her whatever she desired.
"Anything but an apple, I think I've seen more than enough of those today!" she replied, exasperated.
They ended up simply getting some raw vegetables left over from one of the closing stalls. On one hand, it helped him save money, but on the other hand, it sort of made his sentiment have less value. And while they did eat together, it wasn't a date or even remotely romantic. In every variation he had seen where Theta and he were a couple, they always separated by the end of the day...
Anyways, he trotted home alone. He wasn't even in a mood to shower today, he just went straight to bed. Today wasn't all that eventful, but he is honestly more grateful for having less excitement than more. Meesley knows that he isn't a god, because a god probably wouldn't have to worry about their very existence changing drastically every day.
...
"I really bucking hate my life," he murmured as he began to close his eyes.
Sleep.
Author's Note
If this was confusing, I am very sorry. (The tense is all over the place in this, I know.) Any tips for improvement are very much appreciated, but I do not plan on updating this very often due to labwork!
Important note:"I never lie, everything is the way it is meant to be. We live in a world where technicality is king."
Chapter 2: Party Like Royalty.
Awake.
Meesley gently woke up. His bed was so soft today that he wished he could lay in it until the end of time. Actually, what would happen if he simply woke up at the end of time one...day? Would he just stay there forever, never to fall asleep again? Honestly, would that be a good or a bad outcome for him? Eh, no time to stay still and think purely about theoreticals. He decided to open his eyes.
His room greeted him; however, today everything seemed bigger. Taller ceiling, larger bed, more belongings. Oddly enough, it still looked like his room, only bigger! He was certainly in a castle of some sort, and his inference skills told him he was not a servant.
Meesley decided to look out the window, where he saw a sprawling city of marble and gold below the grand castle he was currently residing in. He knew this place, he had woken up here a few times before. It was Canterlot, the seat of the princesses of Equestria, and its capital city. Known for things such as: unicorns, nobles, fashion, really just the best of the best. All things he looooooved.
"Wow I'm...sassy today," he thought aloud.
He turned his gaze back into the room, trying to piece together some context clues of what he had to do today. After a few minutes of searching-his room is really uselessly massive today-his eyes fell upon an opened letter on a scribe's table pushed against the wall.
After a few seconds of trying to carefully open the letter with his mouth-no horn, of course-he finally gave up and tore the envelope in two. The paper inside was somewhat roughed up by this, but was still very readable:
Dearest Sir Meesley,
The Nobility of Canterlot
The letter was so heavily perfumed, he had to go back to the window for a fresh breath of air. Meesley used this time to think over the contents of the letter, all of which he deftly and efficiently summarized as: "Wow...I am really important today!"
Though, the more he thought about it the more one specific realization started to annoy him. He was now FORCED to spend an entire day with the least functional, biggest egos in all of Equestria. Luckily he remembered quite a few names that would likely be here today, and the rest would just have to be luck.
He heard a knock at the door, and a voice was heard soon after, "Sir, I was sent to ask if you were awake. I have brought some tea as you requested when you arrived last night. I will leave it h-"
Meesley opened the door, cutting the servant off mid-sentence. He did not recognize her, but that doesn't necessarily mean much. He used his magic to levitate the cup to his mouth and took a long drink from it. Once he finished, he remembered that he should maybe address the pony in front of him.
"Good morning!" he said, "Thank you for the tea, may I ask what time it is?"
"Uh, certainly sir! I believe it is three quarters ten, so you still have plenty of time to get dressed. Would you like any help in preparing yourself for today's event?"
He gave her a look, "Do you think I am unable to dress myself? Will you prechew my food for me, too?"
"No, I didn't mean that, sir!" her eyes went wide, "It's just something we usually help with, to make sure every guest is tended to as much as possible. Please, I- I am sure I can get you an earlier escort to the event, to make up for my mistake!"
"What? No!" he exclaimed, before thinking over what he said, "I am sorry if I came over as aggressive or annoyed, I must have slept wrong last night. I am fine with preparing on my own. Please, do not feel like you have wronged me."
It's the best he could do to apologize. He was really not the shining example of kindness today. But if he donated to repair a whole bucking city, he must have some kind of heart, no? He waited for her to move, but she just stared at him awkwardly. Finally he remembered an old, small formality and said, "Oh, you are dismissed."
With a final thank you, the servant left down the hall and into the rest of the massive castle-complex.
Back inside his room, he begins to put on a perfectly tailored suit that was resting on a stand nearby. The suit was certainly masterfully made, but it was not overly lavish in design. Its design was guided by function over form, but the form seemingly came naturally as part of its functionality. As he pulls one of his forelegs through the jacket's leg, he hears some cracking from his joints.
"Well, I'm not as young as I used to be," he chuckles to himself as he puts the finishing touches on.
An escort did come sooner than expected, so it makes sense to assume the servant was still spooked by his behaviour.
At the official front gate of the Gala, Meesley presents his formal invitation. He gets a bit of a strange look from the guards, likely due to the small tear in the paper and the folds running through it, but he is let through into the hall. It was astounding to see such intricacy to detail on such a large scale. Every part of the stone roof has some sort of carving or gold inlay. The amount of purple, a rather expensive colour, is also awe-some.
As 'Sir' Meesley gawks at the interior of the hall, he is approached by another guest, "Quite beautiful, isn't it?" the very old, suited stallion says to him. His stare was fixated on the plafond.
"It most certainly is. What an unfathomable amount of money must have gone into this?"
"I have helped with some of the book-keeping of the royal archives," the elder says, "I think you would rather not know."
They both chuckle, before Meesley asks, "So, you are more of the studious type? Can't say I'd have expected many of you here." It was somewhat of a shot into the dark, since this could be seen as a great offence by some. But today, Meesley apparently had much more confidence, and he wanted to test this stallion's humor.
"Ha," was the perfect reply, "Yes, there aren't all that many of us around. Outside of a few cases, intelligence seems to hate power, and the rare pony with both knows how to stay far away from the nobility."
Staring. Meesley notices a pony staring at him. A pegasus mare wearing a dark dress contrasting her white fur squints at him from the other side of the grand hall. As soon as he returns the stare, she looks away. How odd...
"Truthfully, I wouldn't be here either if I had the chance," the other stallion sighs, "But, I have made a few promises of appearing, and I can assure you there will be some wonderful drama at some point later tonight!"
"I'm not really here by choice either," Meesley responds quietly, but decides to shut up.
"Well, it was wonderful talking to you, my friend, but I will now have to entertain some of the others like me."
With a final goodbye, the two go their separate ways. Meesley attempts to start up conversation with some of the nobles that finally start filling the venue. Though, none of them seem familiar, and he usually abandons their useless conversations after only a few sentences. Why would somepony care so deeply about taxation if they have enough bits to pay theirs a dozen-fold and still have enough extra to live a walking dream?
'Y'know what,' he thought, 'That was a stupid question.'
He ponders for a little while as to what he could do to entertain himself next.
'Maybe the guards can keep better company?' he wonders to himself and starts searching for the armored ponies.
They may be more militant, and will often times refrain from conversing with others outside of their in-group, but they have quite the collection of stories and adventures. Meesley can recall a few times he was amongst their ranks, so he understands that they can much softer on the inside...once you can crack through.
Eventually, he finds his targets, lined against a wall on one side of the grand hall. Only a few of them seem to notice the approaching noble, straightening up and falling into a well-trained stance while eyeing him slowly and maybe a little confused by his presence.
Quickly, he recognizes one of the pairs of eyes. The rest of these guards' features always looked the same, part of standard procedure, but there is something about the eyes of a pony that you simply can't fully change. Using his wing, Meesley attempts to give a crisp salute to the private. A few joints pop as he does so, but he is otherwise able to impress some of the ponies facing him.
"I see Sir Meesley has some guard blood in him!" the pony he recognized-Swift Pierce, an old friend-exclaims. This is received by some shock from those around them.
"It's great to see you again, Swift," Meesley replies.
"A friend, I take it?" one of the others says, to which both stallions simply nod.
"I've been trying to strike up conversation with these wastes of br- very important ponies, " Meesley corrects himself, "But I think I would have more fun talking to rocks."
"Well, glad to be your rocks, then!" the guardsponies joke.
"You know very well that's not wh-"
Suddenly, Meesley is interrupted by horrendous and EXTREMELY out-of-place singing coming from somewhere in the hall. He sees a bouncing, pink earthpony making a fool of herself in the middle of the entering crowd. Maybe on another day he could have survived this ruckus, but not today.
"Good luck with this, I have to get out of here," Meesley quickly finishes off the conversation.
The guards helpfully point him towards an exit into one of the public wings of Canterlot. He gives a nod of thanks and leaves as in a fast canter.
He attempts to use a teleportation spell, but finds that his horn doesn't have the magical potential he needs for such a complex spell. Of course. And of course the pink pony starts singing even louder, somehow. Navigating the hall isn't easy, with a myriad of nobles and servants rushing around, attempting to create as many connections during the event as possible. As Meesley nears the door, somewhat hindered by the lavish half-suit, half-dress he is wearing, he hears the disruptor suddenly shut up. However, his mood is still ruined and he isn't quite able to calm himself down, so he continues for the door.
As he swings the door open and exits, he is suddenly greeted by lush greenery. All around him, beautifully trimmed plants are on display. His dark fur blends into well into his surroundings, bathed in the night's onyx. It takes him a bit of time to get his bearings.
"These must be the castle's gardens..." he mutters to himself.
Indeed they are.
Meesley quickly spins around, "Who was that?" he questions, but there is no reply yet.
He continues to trot along the winding paths and maze-like corridors of the gardens. The changes aren't making things easy. They say 3 lefts make a right, but Meesley's universe seems uninterested in such idioms and their wisdoms. Eventually, however, he reaches something familiar.
A statue, likely almost as ancient as Canterlot itself. It resembles some crude chimera, some mistake of nature (Hey!), like the outcome of some displeased god unleashing its fury upon the world. Most don't know, however, that they aren't staring at a deity's rath, but the deity itself.
"Discord," Meesley announces, "Looks like you are still emprisoned today. I don't quite know if I should consider it good or bad that not even you seem exempt from my ailment."
Well, you'd say that.
Meesley spins again, presenting his wings as a quasi threat before regaining his composure. He made a realization then, "Is that you? How are you able to do this? "
No response. Only the loud silence of the night and the whistling of some far-away servant. The Gala was still only beginning, so there was little need for the other guests to 'escape.' Meesley, on the other hoof, was starting to get seriously annoyed by the chaos demon's antics.
He reels back his hoof, "Alright, old friend, you want to play stupid games. Then I'll just have to get to you the old-fashioned way."
He goes to strike the statue and as his hoof makes cont-
Change.
"What?" the confused pony says. Changes don't usually happen plainly in front of his eyes, only when he is distracted. But as he looks around, he finds himself in another part of the gardens entirely.
Bother.
Meesley's ear twitches. "WHAT?" He starts to gallop as fast as he can to the area he was in before. He now knew something about the changes he had never known before. They were designed. He had sort of assumed this, a part of his superstition perhaps, but this was definitive proof! R- Right? With renewed anger and conviction, he begins to gallop even faster, his young legs taking him as fast as he can.
No changes occur, for some reason. So it only takes him a minute or two to find the statue again. He goes for the strike again and-
SLEEP.
Idiot.
Author's Note
This is longer than planned, so sorry for any boredom you may have experienced.
Note:There are deceptions, there have to be. But lying is only for those too week to face their own truth.
Chapter 3: Cool Cool Cool!
Awake.
I wake up with aching muscles, my breathing quick, and my heart beating in my chest. It is freezing cold in my room. My room looks relatively normal. The walls are wooden, and there is a small stove in the corner with the faintest yellow-red glow coming through its display glass, blackened with soot. There is a single window allowing bright white light to spew into the room.
I quickly get up and use my magic to open the door of the stove and stoke the fire with some of the wood stored underneath to dry. Hopefully the flame is able to get going again so I won't have to freeze to death. 'Though,' I ponder, 'am I even capable of dying? Or do I just wake up again?' Age seems to have no lasting effect on me, so it wouldn't be too crazy to assume I am, in some way...functionally immortal.
"I have read more than enough books to know that that would be an outcome I do not desire," I think aloud.
The howling of wind outside my little cabin breaks me from my musing. As I refocus back on the world, and as the fire is starting to pick up again, I begin to consider what my purpose today shall be. Staying here doesn't seem like the most fun of options, but going outside-which seems to be teeming with horrid weather-does not sound appealing either.
"Welp," I say, as I stare into the fire-the only source of light in the dark room, "Let's see if I at least have some good winter gear!"
A nearby storage chest seems like the best option to start searching, so I use my magic to open its lid and rummage through its contents. Inside there are some snow shoes, rope, a small mess-kit, even a one-pony tent. Really, all things a pony would need to go out and survive in the wilderness. Though, I fear I don't have too much knowledge in survival. The royal guard did some wilderness training with us, but nopony paid particular attention to those lectures.
Since staying here isn't going to do me any real good, I decide to take out some of the equipment and prepare myself a day pack. Some light exploration would likely help me gain my bearings on where I am, since there seemed to be no maps available. Before leaving, I close the drawer and add a bit more wood to the fire, closing the vents to the stove to hopefully keep it smoldering until I return...if I return.
The cold air to my face briefly shocks my systems, so much so that I have to briefly gasp for air. As I take my first steps into the snow, I realize that I am surrounded by nothing but white tundra. I can't even tell if it's actively snowing or if the heavy winds are just picking up old snow. None of the equipment I saw included any snow-goggles or sunglasses, so I may go blind by the end of the day.
You know what, it's probably best to just check ag-
As I turn around, the cabin that had just stepped out of was gone. Incredulous, I take a few more steps in the direction, before galloping as fast as I could towards where the cabin was just a few moments ago...but there was nothing but snow.
"FFFF- NOOOOOOOO!!!" I yell.
This-
THIS CAN'T BE-
Why? There is no way I am trapped in this snowy tundra without any shelter or heat!
Is- is this some sort of punishment?
"I should have just left the discord statue alone, what was I thinking," I cry to myself.
There is too much wind to properly fly, so I am just stuck here. I'll just slowly have to freeze to death and hope that I wake up somewhere warm and cozy this time. I'll just sit here and wait for hypothermia to take me and get me out of this mess. Haha, universe! Didn't think I'd be that crazy, did ya?
I got no response...
Figures...
I shake my head to try and regain some level of composure. This wouldn't be the first time I may or may not have lost it a tad bit. But to be honest, freezing to death doesn't sound that great either. Even if it would likely not be permanent. So there is only really one thing for me to do but start walking. Which way? I don't have a compass. so just straight forward it is!
I keep walking.
There is nothing but snow.
It is so cold.
Horribly cold.
Terrifyingly cold.
I try to tuck my leathery wings closer to my body to try and conserve some heat, but there doesn't seem to be any heat to conserve. The sun has just about set by now, taking away any last external source of heat I may have had. All I can hear is the evil winds taking away the last vestiges of warmth inside of my body.
Then, I stumble a little.
"G- great. T-the first ro-ck I h- ha- have seen in a- ages, a- and I-" 'nearly crack my hoof on it,' I wanted to finish but couldn't. I barely had energy to keep thinking straight. I barely had enough feeling in my limbs to feel the awful pain the rock shot up my half-frozen leg.
Numerous times, I had tried to fall asleep over the past hours of darkness, but the harsh, cold winds had simply kept me awake all this time. No amount of survival training could prepare you for enduring these conditions longer than a few minutes. Digging a snow cave may work, if you had any equipment to do so. Which I didn't.
'Wait, didn't I...'
I couldn't quite remember.
Oh Celestia, if only I was somewhere warm!
My head hurt, my body hurt, my horn hurt...
Any attempt at magic just made it feel like it would crack at any moment. The agony was unbearable!
I could not tell you if I was simply weak today, or if the cold's single purpose in existence was to hurt me.
'There,' I thought.
'Those look like lights on the horizon!'
My prayers have been answered! I would shout with joy, if I could, but all that escapes my lips at that point are faint gasping noises.
I begin to stumble towards the lights on the horizon. Hope and anticipation filling me with unnatural strength. The lights seem to slowly grow brighter as I continue to will my nearly frozen limbs towards them. Oh, it hurts! It hurts so much to take every step, stumble, and shimmy. But it's all worth it to hopefully finally bring an end to this nightmare. To finally be able to feel warmth again? After days of wandering in this frozen wasteland, I am ecstatic!
Fall.
I trip over another rock. The second one I have seen in months of being here. What a coincidence?! Since I had been shuffling down a slope, I begin to roll. Faster, and faster, until my sense of direction is fully lost. After what feels like a few minutes of rolling I finally unfold and grind to a halt. My head buried under a mound of material.
I am scared.
Now...you may not know the universe like I do, so let my explain why my fear is more than reasonable.
The universe hates me for some reason. It has never liked me and, unless I am reading too far into the events over the past couple of hours, it now has a serious vendetta against me. Whenever something goes right, the universe likes to take it away from me.
So I can tell you-with almost complete certainty-that as soon as I raise my head out of the sand, the lights will be gone. And I will be stuck right where I beg-
Wait, sand?
My head pops up.
All I can see is sand, sand for ages.
The lights on the horizon are gone, obviously, but they have been replaced with the lights of thousands upon thousands of stars above me. They are beautiful... I am not sure I have ever seen them this clearly. Except maybe for that one time I woke up on the moon, but that was so long ago. Luna has done a beautiful job...
Something felt off...
Cold.
It was still cold.
"WHY IS IT STILL COLD!?" I scream with renewed vigor.
It's a bloody desert!
"THIS IS JUST UNFAIR!" I continue to yell, "BRING ME ALL THE WAY HERE, FOR WHAT? TO JUST FURTHER MESS WITH ME?!"
(Meesley does not notice the sand around him begin to vibrate and...phase?)
"HOW MUCH LONGER?"
"WHAT MORE DO I HAVE TO SUFFER THROUGH?"
Who am I? Why me? What did I do to deserve this punishment?
"ALL BECAUSE OF SOME STUPID STATUE?"
Even before that, what am I?
"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? TO DO THIS TO ME, TO ACT LIKE SOME MALEVOLENT GOD?"
"WHO ARE YOU ?"
"WHO AM I?"
"WHO ARE WE?"
(The sand beneath him begins to glow, empowered by some ener-)
STOP.
I fall to the ground.
Didn't even notice I wasn't standing anymore. My head hurts even more now, throbbing in pain rather than feeling partially frozen. As my heart starts to calm down a little bit, I begin to feel tears running down my cheeks.
"Please," I say as I start to cry.
"We can keep playing this game...my life, but please end today," I plead.
"This isn't fun, and it can't be fun to watch (or read) about this sort of punishment. So let's just end this."
...
...
...
"Please."
...
My eyes start to get heavy. And my legs collapse. My tears change from tears of exasperation and sadness to relief...maybe even joy.
Sleep.
Thank you.
Author's Note
That's right! Not even the point-of-view will stay consistent! I am sorry about the large delays in writing, they may only get worse from here on out. But the next chapter will likely be posted within 48hrs.
Read my typographical emphasis carefully, they reveal what/who is talking.
Important note:As you must have read, question his innocence. When he lays in bed, we pay his penance.
Chapter 4: Stahl und Eisen
Awake.
Meesley opens his eyes. His back lays on some cold, hard surface. But truthfully, this feels so much warmer than yesterday. He could probably melt and stay there forever. Simply laying there, and not thinking about much other than-maybe-what a mess this life of his is.
His ears twitch at the sounds of thunk-ing, the sound of metal on metal. Rhythmically almost, with a consistent beat that sounds almost like trotting. Suddenly, the sound stops and something wooshes through the air. Wet, slimy cloth hits him in the face, causing Meesley to jolt up.
"Time to wake up, little princess," Beta calls to him, "Work calls."
He lifts the oily rag off-of his face using his magic and throws it back at his sister, but she simply dodges it. It reminds him of sparring with her when they used to be in the guard, though that may have never occurred to this version of her. He shivers at that line of thought. That all of the ponies he meets from one day to another day could be different versions of themselves, rather than...being themselves!
He is letting himself get consumed in thought again, that's not really great. Especially when Beta is patiently waiting for him at the door to his dormitory. So he gets up and starts to follow her.
At this point, Meesley begins to realize the EVERYTHING here is made out of metal. The loud floor, the walls, probably even the roof if it wasn't so far away as to be shrouded in darkness. Everything is made up of the same grey steel. 'Is this more awe inspiring or terrifying,' he asks himself.
Soft whirring of machinery, and whizzing of steam in pipes echoes within the large room they are walking through. The grating they walk on clacks as it shakes, but it seems solid enough to Meesley.
"Uh, Beta, where are we going right now?" he asks.
"Beta? It's Theta," the mare corrects, "We've known each other since we signed up to work here. I'd have thought you knew my name by now, I am heartbroken," she finishes, sarcastically.
Meesley laughs weakly, "Sorry, Theta. Where are we heading?"
"Not sure, yet. Work distribution said we'll be needed in the command center(C.C.)today. Maybe we actually get to do something exciting," she says as the ducks under a pipe. Meesley nearly hits it, clearly to large for the small passageway they have been squeezing through.
The manufactory, or as some called it 'the machine' had been built as a response to the incident that sparked the war against the Pegasi. A massive, mobile fortress built for the manufacture and distribution of weaponry. It was built for utility, not comfort. If it had a mind, it would likely want the destruction of everypony, no matter what side it was on.
'Wonderful,' he thinks to himself, 'I am in a war-zone again. At least I am not at the fronts again.'
The thought made him uneasy. It had been quite some time since he last had to fight in a war. Meesley had heard all the propaganda against pegasi, unicorns, griffins, even zebras. All the lies why it was his moral duty to fight, and why the enemy was nothing but evil blood-sucking monsters. He'd be too ashamed to admit it, but in the moment...he had believed some of it, too.
Throughout his many 'adventures,' he had seen horrors beyond comprehension. He had led armies to war, and he had enabled nations to go to war. He helped in the development of spears, firearms, megaspells, and self-spreading curses. The thought of all of it made him ill.
"I hope it won't be so awful this time," he murmurs to himself.
"What's that?" Zeta asked him.
"Nothing, just talking to myself," Meesley defends before the two turn and stand before two massive doors with a solar guard standing on either side.
The doors slowly-ominously-open to reveal the central control hub(C.C.H) of the complex. Massive windows, reinforced with shield spells allow for some of the only natural light in the manufacture to flood into the room. Ponies sitting in front of screens, typing away at keyboards, all in uniform.
As Meesley and Zeta bawk in awe, they notice their leader...
Empress Celeste stood imposingly on a pillar in the center of the room, overseeing the entirety of the intelligence moving through mission command(M.C.). She was currently talking to a pony taking notes on a pad of paper, nodding along to what she was saying. Most ponies working here don't get to see her, since she is-
Meesley briefly stops. The empress looked almost nightmarish. Scars marred her face and neck, and she...start above, she didn't have any wings. What happened?
'The secession,' he can feel the memory forming in his brain.
The day the entirety of the pegasus species withdrew from harmony and Equestria, they decided to leave a 'parting gift' for their ruler. The media said it was a wonder that she survived at all, but some say that she didn't. Many who revolted against war and revenge, who said that this wasn't the way of harmony or their ruler, were taken care of...
"Oh Tia, what have they done to you now?" he questions under his breath, "And where is Luna?"
She never returned.
As Delta and Meesley arrive on the side of the room, they make their way up the spire until they face Celeste.
"Ah, Meesley and Delta," the queen says stoically as she turns from her squire, "I have a mission for the two of you."
"Thank you, your highness," the two say in tandem, bowing before their leader.
"It has come to our attention," the unicorn with the notebook begins, "That some of the workers in the machine-room may be traitors to the crown. Rumors have been heard that they are beginning to question the motives of our infallible leader. First they start to ask questions, next we may see them revolve all-together! So, we need your past experience as military personnel to...um, to make sure we...to disp-"
"Kill them. All of them," Celeste abruptly finishes for the pony. Again, showing no emotion.
The two startle back and share a glance. Celestia would never say or mean such a thing, not even in implication. But then again, this seems to be an entirely different being from his old friend.
Stars above, there have to be dozens of ponies down there and he is supposed to just...
He can't do this!
At the lack of response, Lady Celeste adds, "Unless you were to be traitors too, then I would not make you harm your like-minded friends." She points her horn towards the two.
"N- no, of course not! We would be glad to help the empire be rid of such...cretins," Eta answers quickly, "I- isn't that right, Meesley?"
He nods quickly.
"Good," Celeste continues before turning back to her helper, "Prepare them for their task."
As the two descend into the belly of the machine, heavily armed with spears and in two suits of armor, neither of them dares to speak a word. The only sounds are the clunking of their shoes on the metal floor. Meesley tries to focus his breathing and calm down a little.
He shouldn't be this weak!
He has faced nightmares beyond comprehension, lost his mind on many occasions, has lost all of his friends thousands of times, and even lost his family...
But this shouldn't hurt him so much! He is removing the traitorous scum that infests this beautiful mechanism of war. He is cleansing and cleaving it of the true evil in this wo-
'Oh Celestia, no! Now I am really starting to think this way again? It's been...what...an hour?'
But the blame doesn't fully fall on him, does it? The universe...something's there, controlling this. He doesn't need to take all the blame for what is being crammed inside of his head! The things he does, and sees from day to day aren't his fault!
They are.
"NO, THEY ARE NOT!" he yells, startling Theta.
(They somewhat are.)
"They are not what?" Theta asks.
"I am not sure we can take 50+ ponies," Meesley deflects the subject, "What if they overwhelm us? It could start a full-on revolt..."
"I don't mean to sound depressing," Theta responds, "But I think that this is a lose-lose situation for us no matter what. It was wonderful to know you over the past weeks, but this seems to be where we die. I...am sorry."
His eyes begin to water lightly, and he quietly says, "I'll see you tomorrow."
Beta looks at him, confused.
'Of course,' he is slightly annoyed.
As they reach the very top of the iron fortress, they approach the heavy iron doors marked 'machine room.' They do final preparations, and make sure their scant armor is as tight as possible. They draw their swords with their magic and enter the loud room.
The dozen ponies inside turn around at the sudden light pouring in from the windowed hallway.
"For crimes against the crown," Meesley starts, "And for disobeying the word of our dearest Queen. You have all been sentenced to death. Please r- remain calm and prepare for your immediate e- ... for your immediate execution."
The ponies, dirtied with grease and carbon dust, turn to each other in shock. All except for a white mare, who looks at them- no, at him inquisitively.
"What are our charges?" one pony cries out.
"We have done nothing but follow your orders!" another yells.
"What are you?" the white mare says, almost too quiet to hear over the ruckus.
"Can we challenge this decision?" yet another pony asks.
"Please, you can't do this!" an out-of-sight pony yells.
But the two of them had a job to do, so they went to work...
...
Covered in blood, and panting with exhaustion, the Zeta and Meesley were ready nearly done with their work.
They simply stared at each other in abject horror of what they had done.
Their victims, their faces seemingly still pleading at them to spare them, lying motionless on the ground.
...
"We can't continue to-" Meesley begins to say as he sees a shadow moving through the light.
He turns around only to see a glimpse of another dozen ponies pouring into the room, and a hammer flying towards his face.
He wore no armor, and no helmet.
He thought he heard Zeta yell something, but all he could focus on were the beginnings of a crunch .
Sleep.
Author's Note
I hope you forgive me for these darker two chapters. It should get happier for the next chapters, until the actual story begins. (Ooh, spoiler? Not really.)She has had her fun with him, and deems the punishment is complete.
Important note:None of these are his crimes, not fully. While we can not be hurt by fictional weapons. We, too, have been hurt by him and his follies.
Also, because I believe it would help, I have included a description of who is talking/writing based on emphasis:She. The 'universe' as he calls her.