A sharp cry of a rooster jolted Ethan awake. Blinking wearily, his gaze met the wooden ceiling beams above. For a moment, he lay still, listening to the familiar creak of the old house settling into itself. Sure, it wasn't the insistent blaring of his alarm back on Earth, but after nearly six years in Equestria, the rooster was just as effective and just as annoying.
With a tired sigh, he turned his head toward the window. Pale ribbons of sunlight crept through the thin curtains, casting faint golden lines across the scuffed floorboards. Dust motes danced lazily in the light as the distant chirps of the birds began to sound.
He exhaled slowly, the weight of morning pressing down as he rubbed his face, fingertips dancing daintily over the coarse stubble along his jaw. He really should shave soon. But, like most things these days, that could wait for another time.
Soon his fingers began to trace lower until they brushed against the cool metal of the chain around his neck. His thumb found one of the links, tracing it absently, moving from one to the next with the idle rhythm of habit.
His fingers then froze when they brushed the charm, the small pendant nestled against his skin. A silver crescent moon, its delicate curve cradling an orange ruby that caught the faint morning light. Lifting it up to eye level, Ethan stared at it for a moment, feeling the cold press of metal against his fingers.
He barely thought about it anymore. It was just part of the routine, like waking up or brushing his teeth. But still, he let his fingers linger for a beat longer before he finally let it drop back down on his chest.
With a low grunt, Ethan pushed himself upright, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed until his bare feet met the cool, smooth wood of the floor. He let his elbows rest heavily on his knees, his shoulders sagging under a weight that sleep never seemed to lift. His gaze drifted across the room, dull and unfocused.
Ethan’s room was a mix of almost-organized clutter, the kind of mess that felt lived-in rather than neglected. Stacks of books teetered on a rickety nightstand, their spines a blend of Equestrian titles on magic creatures and history, wedged awkwardly between old, dog-eared paperbacks from Earth. A worn flannel shirt was draped over the back of a wooden rocking chair that had clearly been crafted by a certain white furred seamstress, its polished surface contrasting with the faded, ripped denim jeans tossed carelessly beside it.
On one wall, a simple shelf held an odd collection of trinkets: a cracked coffee mug with the logo of his old job back home, sitting next to a small, glowing crystal he’d picked up during a trip to the Crystal Empire. A faded photograph of him holding a baby Zaylee, taken years ago before they’d stumbled into this world, was propped against the base of a lamp. One of the few items to be transported from Earth that still worked thanks to Twilight and her magic. Though the shade was a little crooked.
However, the baby in the photo was long gone now, replaced by an eleven-year-old who seemed to grow faster in this world than she ever had back home.
He took another deep breath, smelling the faint scent of aged wood mingled with something floral, a gift from a well-meaning neighbor he never quite got around to tossing out.
Ethan then stood, his joints creaking in quiet protest as he stretched his arms above his head. It seemed Ponyville was already waking up, he could faintly hear the distant chatter of ponies setting up stalls in the market square and the rhythmic clatter of shoes against cobblestone streets.
Dragging a hand through his messy hair, Ethan shuffled toward the door, his bare feet making soft, muted thuds against the floor. On the way, he snagged his clothes from the nearby chair.
He paused just long enough to wrestle into his jeans, hopping awkwardly on one foot as he tugged them up. With a practiced motion, he pulled a plain white T-shirt over his head, the fabric settling over his shoulders nicely. His flannel followed, the sleeves slipping easily over his arms, though he left it hanging open, the buttons forgotten.
When he finally stepped into the hallway, a faint chill greeted him. The corridor outside his room was narrow and dim, the worn floorboards creaking under his weight. Morning light leaked through a small, square window at the far end, casting long, soft shadows against the peeling wallpaper.
Taking a few steps down the hallway he came face to face with a familiar pink door, its paint slightly chipped at the edges from years of tiny hands pushing it open and shut. Raising a fist, he gave the door a few quick knocks.
"Zaylee," he called through a yawn, voice still rough from sleep. "You awake?”
Silence answered him.
Frowning slightly, Ethan twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open, the hinges giving a soft squeak as he stepped into his little girl’s room.
What revealed was the cozy chaos of Zaylee’s room, a perfect blend of Earthly familiarity and Equestrian wonder. The daylight spilled through sheer, star-patterned curtains, casting soft, shifting shapes across the floor. The walls, once a simple pastel pink, were now a collection of hand-drawn crayon art and faded posters from Ponyville’s seasonal festivals, their edges curling slightly from age.
A small bookshelf leaned against one wall, its shelves crammed with a haphazard mix of colorful storybooks about Equestrian magic and old and picture books from home Ethan had read to her when she was little. A well-loved stuffed animal, a floppy-eared bunny missing one button eye, sat slouched on her pillow, half-buried beneath a patchwork quilt stitched by Rarity herself, the fabric dotted with tiny, glittering stars.
Her desk, cluttered with broken crayons, scraps of paper, and stray feathers from school projects, sat in the corner, while a cracked snow globe from Earth, the last remnant of a long-forgotten family vacation, rested proudly beside a small, purple, glowing crystal from the same trip up north.
Scattered across the floor were wooden toys from Ponyville’s market, mingling with bits of Earth memorabilia: a scratched-up yo-yo, a plastic dinosaur with one arm missing, and a pair of worn sneakers that were always just a little too small but too beloved to toss away.
It wasn’t neat, but it was hers, a perfect, chaotic reflection of the little girl who somehow managed to carry two worlds in her tiny, growing heart.
A faint smile tugged at Ethan’s lips as his eyes landed on a small, lumpy mound beneath the covers, with stray strands of dark hair peeking out from the top.
His smile shifted into a mischievous grin. Moving with exaggerated stealth, he tiptoed across the room like he was Pink Panther incarnate. When he reached the side of the bed, he crouched down until he was eye-level with the mysterious lump.
"Zaylee~," he called softly, drawing out her name with a playful edge. "Time to get up. You’ve got school.”
The lump groaned, shifting just enough to burrow deeper under the blanket.
"Five... more minutes, Dad," came the muffled, half-asleep reply.
Ethan chuckled under his breath, then lifted a single finger in the air like a magician preparing for a grand trick.
"Hmm, I don’t think the tickle worm’s gonna like the sound of that," he teased, wiggling his finger ominously.
In an instant, two small hands shot out from under the covers, yanking them down to reveal Zaylee’s wide, alarmed eyes staring back at him.
"You wouldn’t," she whispered, her voice equal parts fear and challenge.
Ethan’s grin widened. Oh, he definitely would.
Without another word, he struck.
His fingers darted beneath the covers, finding their target with practiced precision. Zaylee let out a high-pitched squeal, twisting and thrashing under the blanket as laughter bubbled up uncontrollably.
"Daaad! No! Stop!" she shrieked between giggles, trying—and failing—to wriggle away from his relentless tickle attack.
"The tickle worm’s hungry today!" Ethan teased, his voice low and dramatic.
Zaylee gasped for breath, her tiny hands flailing as she tried to fend him off, but he was too quick. Her laughter echoed off the walls, bright and infectious, until finally, Ethan relented, pulling back with a triumphant chuckle.
She lay there, breathless and giggling, her messy hair sticking to her flushed cheeks. Blinking up at him with mock betrayal, she huffed, "That was not fair."
Ethan ruffled her hair, still grinning. "Life’s not fair, kiddo. But you’re awake, aren’t you?”
But Ethan’s grin faded as his eyes caught on something beside her nightstand. It was a necklace, with a similarly moon shaped pendant that lay forgotten next to a stack of books.
His jaw tightened. The warmth of the moment evaporated.
"Zaylee," he said, voice dipping into that firm, no-nonsense tone she knew all too well. "What’d I tell you about your necklace?”
Zaylee followed his gaze, her smile slipping as she spotted the pendant. She winced, dragging her eyes back to her dad with a small shrug, hoping to brush it off.
"Sorry. I forgot to put it back on after I showered," she mumbled, like it was no big deal.
Ethan’s frown deepened. He stood up, arms crossing tightly over his chest. "Zaylee, this is the sixth time you’ve slept without it. You know how important this is."
Zaylee sighed, flopping back onto her pillow dramatically. "I know, Dad, but it’s just one night. Nothing happened.”
Ethan’s patience thinned. He ran a hand down his face, his voice sharper now. "That’s not the point. You don’t know what could happen.”
Zaylee sat up again, frustration flashing in her eyes. "I’m not a baby, Dad. I’m eleven. I’m fine without it for one night!"
Ethan shook his head, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. "It’s not about being a baby. It’s about being safe. You don’t get to decide that yet.”
Zaylee’s jaw clenched. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then blurted, "I know, but I miss—"
"It’s for your own safety," Ethan cut her off, his voice rising before he could stop himself. "I don’t want to hear it, Zaylee.”
The room fell into a tense, heavy silence. Zaylee’s eyes burned with unshed tears, but she bit them back, glaring down at her blanket instead.
"You don’t understand," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ethan’s heart twisted, but he didn’t let it show. He exhaled sharply and stepped toward the door, his voice softer but no less firm. "I do understand. But this isn’t up for debate. Get dressed. I’ll make breakfast."
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Zaylee’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flicking between him and the necklace. But she didn’t argue. She just nodded stiffly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed without another word before picking up the necklace and putting it on.
Ethan lingered for a moment longer, the weight of her silence heavier than any words. Then he turned and walked out, the soft creak of the door closing behind him echoing louder in his ears than it should have.
Ethan exhaled through his nose as he ran a hand down his face. He didn't like starting his morning like that, but he couldn't make any risky moves. Not now, lest he disturbs their own peace. But pushing it aside for now, he made his way down the hallway.
The house was old, older than most in Ponyville, but solid. A two-story cottage on the outskirts of town, nestled just far enough from the market square to keep the mornings peaceful but close enough that he could still hear the occasional ruckus in town. When Mayor Mare had offered it to him at a steep discount, he hadn’t asked too many questions. A single father raising a daughter in a town full of magical ponies? He wasn’t in a position to be picky.
Of course, the low price had come with a few... quirks. The floors creaked no matter how carefully he stepped, the windows rattled when the wind picked up, and the plumbing had a mind of its own. But it had space, a sturdy roof, and, most importantly, a room for Zaylee to call her own. That had been enough.
The stairs groaned as he descended into the kitchen, the morning air still cold as ever. The space was simple—modest wooden cabinets, a sturdy farmhouse table that had seen better days, and a countertop cluttered with signs of daily life. A basket of apples sat in the center of the table, courtesy of Applejack, who had a habit of dropping off fresh produce whenever she thought Ethan wasn’t eating enough. A chipped coffee mug, left out from yesterday, sat by the sink beside a few stray dishes he’d forgotten to wash.
With practiced ease, Ethan moved to the stove, striking a match to light the burner. The faint hiss of flame filled the quiet kitchen as he reached for the skillet. Cooking had never been his strong suit, but breakfast? Breakfast he could handle.
As he cracked a few eggs into the pan, his thoughts drifted back to Zaylee. He knew she'd probably be bitter but it was for her own good. But he’d make it up to her. He always did.
By the time Ethan plated the last of breakfast, the warm scent of eggs and toast had filled the kitchen. It was a decent meal—simple, reliable. But as he looked down at the plates, something felt... missing.
Bacon. God, he missed bacon.
The crispy, salty, greasy perfection of it. The way it sizzled in the pan, the way it completed a meal, the way it actually had flavor. But no, breakfast in Equestria was a strictly plant-based affair, with some minor exceptions. Meat existed, sure, but it was rare, expensive, and came with a healthy side of judgmental stares. And bacon? Yeah, turns out ponies weren’t too keen on frying up a now-sentient species. Something about that being a crime or whatever.
Damn shame.
His thoughts of bacon were cut short by the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. A moment later, Zaylee appeared in the doorway, dressed for school, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Her dark hair was still slightly damp from her shower, hastily brushed but with a few stubborn strands sticking out.
She had that look on her face, lips pressed in a firm line, arms crossed tight over her chest. Not quite angry. Not quite not angry either. The kind of quiet stubbornness that told Ethan the argument from earlier was still fresh in her mind.
"Food’s ready," Ethan said, keeping his voice light as he pulled out a chair for her.
Zaylee walked right past him without a word, dropping into her seat with a weighty plop. She picked up her fork and stabbed it into her eggs with just a little too much enthusiasm, chewing her first bite like it had personally wronged her.
Sitting down beside her, Ethan took a bite of his toast, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
"So… what’s Ms. Cheerilee got you guys working on this week?" he asked casually, chewing as he reached for his coffee.
Zaylee shrugged, taking her time as she poked at her eggs, drawing idle patterns in the yolk with her fork.
"Some presentation," she muttered.
"Oh yeah?" Ethan lifted his mug, taking a slow sip. "What’s it about?"
Zaylee scrunched up her nose like the topic itself annoyed her. "About Mom’s past.”
Ethan inhaled sharply—and immediately regretted it. His coffee went down the wrong way, sending him into a coughing fit as he struggled to clear his throat. He slammed his mug onto the table, sputtering between ragged coughs while Zaylee just sat there, watching with mild concern and a hint of amusement.
Ethan finally caught his breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as the last of his coughing subsided. Across the table, Zaylee paused mid-bite, watching him with wide eyes.
"Whoa. You okay?" she asked, though the corners of her mouth twitched like she was trying really hard not to laugh.
"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine," Ethan rasped, waving a hand as if nearly choking to death on coffee was just part of the morning routine. He cleared his throat and sat back, trying to pretend like his entire body hadn’t just betrayed him.
But he needed to change the subject. Fast.
"Hey," he said, a little too quickly, "wanna stop by Sugarcube Corner after school? Grab something sweet?”
Zaylee blinked at him, chewing slowly, her little eyebrows scrunching up in suspicion.
"Like... cookies?" she asked, eyes narrowing as she tried to decode the dad logic behind this sudden offer.
“Sure,” He started, trying to sound casual as he placed his elbows on the table and clasped his hands, “Or a cupcake. Maybe even a milkshake.”
Zaylee’s fork hovered mid-air. She froze completely, staring at him like he’d just offered to buy her a pony (which, in Equestria, was probably a weird thing to offer and most definitely illegal). Then, her lips pressed into a thin line, her tiny fingers tapping against the table as she squinted at him.
"Wait... are you trying to bribe me?"
Ethan held up his hands in mock offense. "Bribe? No. This is what we call a treat, because I am a generous father who enjoys spending time with his kid."
Zaylee leaned forward, her voice dropping into a dramatic whisper. "It’s because you feel bad for making me feel bad over a stupid necklace, isn’t it?”
“It's not a stupid–” Ethan started before he groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
"Fine, kid, take the win. But the offer’s still on the table.”
Zaylee’s grin returned, full and mischievous. "Okay! But I get a milkshake and extra whipped cream and sprinkles. The rainbow kind."
"That’s a lot of sugar for someone your size," Ethan said, standing and stretching.
"That’s a lot of dad guilt for someone your size," she shot back, already shoveling the last of her eggs into her mouth.
Ethan snorted, shaking his head as he made his way to put his leftovers in the fridge. Maybe he was bribing her. But if it put her in a better mood, he’d call it a fair trade.
The morning air was crisp and carried the scent of fresh bread from Sugarcube Corner, mingling with the faint floral notes of Ponyville’s gardens. Ethan adjusted the strap of his bag as he stepped onto the porch, stretching out the lingering stiffness in his shoulders. Behind him, Zaylee bounded down the steps, her backpack bouncing against her back.
"Do we have to go straight to school?" she whined, tugging at the hem of his sleeve. "We could, I dunno, just... go to Sugarcube Corner first and then happen to forget what time it is?"
"Uh-huh," Ethan deadpanned, glancing down at her. "And when Ms. Cheerilee asks why you’re late, what’s my excuse? ‘Sorry, teach, my daughter got ambushed by a rogue milkshake monster and lost track of time’?"
Zaylee huffed, crossing her arms. “You joke, but that could totally happen in this town.”
Ethan chuckled, shaking his head as he ruffled her hair, earning a dramatic groan and a half-hearted swat at his hand. Before he could tease her further, the familiar sound of flapping wings and rustling paper caught his attention.
"Incoming!"
A gray blur streaked overhead before landing clumsily in front of them, her boots skidding slightly against the dirt path. A cloud of dust kicked up, and when it settled, Derpy Hooves stood there, slightly disheveled but grinning wide. Her golden eyes, one slightly off-kilter, sparkled with the kind of warmth only she could radiate.
"Morning, Ethan! Morning, Zaylee~!" she chirped, reaching into her satchel. "Got your mail right here!"
Ethan gave her an amused look as he stepped forward. "You sure it’s ours this time?"
Derpy gasped, placing a hand over her heart. "I’ll have you know, I’ve only mixed up your mail three times this month!"
Zaylee giggled, rocking back on her heels. "Last week, we got a letter for Mayor Mare about taxes."
"And the week before that, I got an invitation to a knitting club," Ethan added, smirking as he took the small stack of letters from her. "I gotta say, Derpy, I think they were really hoping I’d join. I got two reminders."
"Well, I mean," Derpy shrugged, "you would look good in a scarf."
Ethan snorted as he flipped through the envelopes. Bills, an ad for Flim and Flam's Tonics, and—yep—another letter that definitely wasn’t his. He sighed, holding it up between two fingers.
"This one’s for Bulk Biceps, Derpy," he pointed out, “I'm not really in the market for protein powder.”
"Oops," Derpy said sheepishly, taking it back and tucking it into her bag. "I’ll fix that. But hey, at least it wasn’t tax forms this time!"
"I’ll give you that one," Ethan admitted.
Before Derpy could take off, she suddenly perked up, her ears twitching forward. A playful, knowing look crossed her face as she leaned in slightly.
"Oh, by the way, Ethan," she said with an innocent lilt that definitely wasn’t innocent, "I heard a certain somepony was asking about you at the market yesterday~."
Ethan sighed. Here we go.
"Let me guess," he said dryly, "Minuette?"
"Nope."
"Roseluck?"
"Uh-uh!"
Ethan’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Octavia."
Derpy beamed, wiggling her ears. "Ding ding ding! We have a winner!"
Zaylee’s head snapped up, eyes glinting with the sheer delight only a kid could have when witnessing their parent’s suffering. She grinned up at Ethan.
"Ooooh, Dad, again? That’s the fourth mare this week!"
"It is not—"
"Is too!" Zaylee sing-songed.
"I am not having this conversation," Ethan muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Well, if you were having this conversation," Derpy chimed in, "I’d tell you Octavia was wondering if you’d be free this weekend. Something about a ‘small gathering’ at her place?"
Ethan groaned. "Yeah, I’ll pass."
Derpy pouted, her wings giving a little flutter. "Aw, come on! You gotta say yes sometime, Ethan."
"I really don’t."
Zaylee leaned in, eyes practically gleaming with mischief. "But Daaaad, what if she bakes? You love Octavia’s blueberry muffins."
"And you can be a little turd sometimes," Ethan shot back, poking her forehead.
Derpy giggled, taking a few steps back as she adjusted her mailbag. "Alright, alright, I won’t push. But I will let her know you’re thinking about it."
"Derpy—"
"Oops, gotta go, urgent deliveries and what not! Byeee!" she sang before launching into the air.
Ethan watched her disappear over the rooftops, already dreading whatever interaction awaited him at the market later. He could practically hear Octavia’s hopeful tone already.
"So, about Sugarcube Corner," Zaylee piped up, rocking on her heels again.
Ethan shook his head, sighing as he ruffled her hair. "No. Now come on, you little gremlin. Let’s get moving before any more mares start asking about me."
Ponyville was well awake with activity as Ethan and Zaylee made their way down the streets. Ponies moved about with casual ease, some chatting, others arranging their wares, and more than a few stealing passing glances at Ethan as he walked by.
He was used to it by now, the lingering looks, the whispered conversations just loud enough for his ears to catch snippets of. At first, he’d chalked it up to curiosity. After all, a human in Equestria? Hardly an everyday sight. But the longer he lived here, the more he realized it wasn’t just about what he was, but who he was.
A single father? In Ponyville?
Apparently, that was rarer than a winter heatwave, and it earned him no shortage of attention.
"Morning, Ethan!"
He barely had time to react before a mare, a cream-colored earth pony with a two-toned blue and pink mane, sidled up next to him, flashing a warm smile.
"And good morning to you too, Zaylee!" she added, her voice practically dripping with enthusiasm.
Zaylee, in the middle of adjusting the straps on her backpack, blinked up at her. "Uh, morning, Ms. Bon Bon."
"How’s school going?" Bon Bon asked, tilting her head slightly.
"It’s fine," Zaylee answered, shifting under the sudden attention. "We have a project due soon, but it’s not too hard."
"That’s wonderful!" Bon Bon beamed, before turning her attention fully on Ethan. "You know, I was just talking to Lyra the other day, and she mentioned how difficult it must be raising a little filly all on your own.”
“I'm not little.” Zaylee added.
“Sure you are.” Bon Bon replied before continuing, “Have you ever considered letting somepony help out? I mean, foalsitting, cooking, company—"
"We’re managing just fine, Bon Bon," Ethan cut in smoothly, offering his usual polite-but-firm smile.
She gave a small pout but didn’t push. "Of course! But, you know, if you ever do need some help, Lyra and I would be more than happy to—"
"I’ll keep that in mind," Ethan said, nodding as he gently steered Zaylee forward. "See you around, Bon Bon."
"You two have a great day!" she called after them, a little too eagerly.
Zaylee waited until they were a safe distance away before looking up at Ethan with a knowing smirk.
"Another one, huh?"
"No idea what you’re talking about," Ethan muttered.
"Mmmhmm," Zaylee hummed, kicking a loose pebble along the path. "Maybe you should start keeping a list."
"What I should do is start wearing a sign that says not interested," Ethan grumbled.
"Oh, yeah, that’d work great," Zaylee said with a giggle. "Because if there’s one thing that definitely doesn’t make mares more interested, it’s a stallion playing hard to get."
Ethan groaned. "I need to stop letting you hang around Rarity."
"Hey, don’t blame me," Zaylee teased. "I’m just saying, at this rate, you’re gonna need a secretary just to manage your admirers."
"How about we focus on getting you to school before Cheerilee starts sending me letters?"
"Pfft, you wish Ms. Cheerilee would send you letters," Zaylee muttered under her breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing!" she sang, skipping ahead before he could respond.
Ethan sighed, shaking his head as he followed her down the path. Ponyville might have been the most peaceful place he’d ever lived, but his mornings? Never quiet.
By the time they reached Ponyville’s small schoolhouse, the morning sun had climbed higher, casting warm golden light across the red-painted building. The white-trimmed windows reflected the sky’s soft blue, and the faint chatter of foals could already be heard from the playground just beyond the fence. The scent of chalk and fresh grass filled the air.
Ethan wasn’t sure if it was the school’s quaint charm or the fact that Cheerilee ran a tight ship, but Ponyville’s young students always seemed genuinely happy to be here. It was a far cry from what he remembered of school back on Earth.
As they reached the front steps, the door swung open, and a familiar voice greeted them.
"Good morning, Zaylee! Ethan!"
Cheerilee stepped out, smiling warmly as she brushed a stray curl of her mulberry mane from her face. She wore a simple, fitted blouse and a knee-length skirt—professional but comfortable, suited for a teacher who spent most of her day wrangling energetic foals. A small stack of papers was tucked under one arm, and the faint scent of blackberry tea lingered in the air as she passed.
Her deep green eyes twinkled with their usual warmth, but the moment they landed on Ethan, something extra flickered there, brief, but noticeable.
"Morning, Ms. Cheerilee!" Zaylee chirped, beaming up at her.
"Full of energy, aren’t we?" Cheerilee giggled before glancing at Ethan with a knowing look. "And I see your dad actually got you here on time today. Should I mark this down as a special occasion?"
Ethan snorted, crossing his arms. "Hey, I’ll have you know I take punctuality very seriously."
"Mmmhmm," Cheerilee hummed, tapping her chin as if deep in thought. "So I must have imagined that time you showed up fifteen minutes late because you ‘lost track of time’."
Ethan sighed dramatically. "Alright, one time—"
"Three times," Zaylee helpfully corrected.
"Traitor," Ethan muttered, nudging her playfully.
Cheerilee giggled, her tail flicking slightly as she shifted the stack of papers under her arm. "Well, either way, I’m glad you’re both here. Zaylee, go ahead and head inside—we’ve got a busy day ahead."
Zaylee gave Ethan a quick wave before skipping past Cheerilee into the schoolhouse, her backpack bouncing as she disappeared down the hall. Ethan turned to leave, but Cheerilee’s voice stopped him.
"Ethan?"
He glanced back, catching the slight hesitation in her expression. She shifted the papers from one arm to the other, her fingers idly smoothing the edges. It was a small thing, but Ethan had learned to pick up on the little tells, the way people stalled when they were debating whether to say something.
"I just wanted to say… I know things haven’t been easy for you, raising Zaylee on your own. But. . . I think you’re doing a great job."
Ethan blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in her tone. Ponies were always quick to offer help, advice, or overly and way too eager ‘company’, but this? This wasn’t that. This was genuine.
He rubbed the back of his neck, offering a small, lopsided smile. "Thanks, Cheerilee. That. . . that means a lot."
Her smile softened, but she didn’t move right away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, studying him in that quiet, thoughtful way she sometimes did. Ethan wasn’t sure why, but it made him feel just a little too seen.
"And how are you doing?" she asked, her voice gentle.
Ethan hesitated for just a second too long. He wasn’t expecting that question. It wasn't the usual, polite "how’s your day?" kind of way, but in a way that actually meant something. It threw him off balance.
"I—" He cleared his throat, defaulting to his usual dry humor. "Well, I almost died choking on coffee this morning, so there’s that."
Cheerilee’s lips twitched into a smile, but her eyes didn’t waver. "Ethan."
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before shrugging. "I’m managing."
"I figured you’d say that," she murmured, amusement flickering in her tone. "But if you ever need anything... well, you know where to find me."
Before Ethan could reply, the sharp ring of the school bell cut through the air. Cheerilee sighed, glancing toward the door, then back at him with a small chuckle.
"Looks like I’m officially on duty."
"And I should get going before more mares start asking about my weekend plans," Ethan muttered.
Cheerilee’s smile widened just a fraction. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."
"Let’s just say it’s exhausting being the designated town DILF," Ethan deadpanned.
"Mmm. I’ll take your word for it," Cheerilee teased, her expression amused but… something else, too.
For a second, they just stood there. It wasn’t awkward, just a quiet moment where neither of them seemed in a rush to move. Then Cheerilee gave a small shake of her head, as if shaking off a thought.
"See you later, Ethan."
"Yeah," he said, still watching her as she turned toward the schoolhouse. "See you, Cheerilee."
The door swung shut behind Cheerilee, leaving Ethan standing there for a beat longer than necessary. With a small shake of his head, he exhaled and turned away, adjusting the strap of his bag as he set off toward Town Hall.
Ponyville’s streets were busier now, the market stalls fully set up, ponies chatting as they browsed fresh produce, baked goods, and handcrafted wares. Ethan wove through the crowd with practiced ease, offering the occasional nod or half-smile to those who greeted him. It was a familiar routine by now, one he hadn’t exactly planned for when he and Zaylee first arrived in this world, but one he had somehow settled into anyway. It was a new normal for them.
His job at Town Hall wasn’t glamorous, but it was stable. Officially, he was Mayor Mare’s assistant. Unofficially? He was a problem solver, a glorified errand boy, and sometimes, he suspected, a walking buffer between the Mayor and the more enthusiastic citizens of Ponyville.
Ethan pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped inside, greeted instantly by the scent of parchment, ink, and freshly brewed coffee. The reception area was already buzzing with activity—ponies flipping through paperwork, muttering about zoning requests, and, in one case, arguing over a petition to ban seagulls from the park.
With a sigh, Ethan made his way toward his desk, a simple wooden setup tucked in the corner, already piled high with scrolls and documents. Before he could even sit down, a voice called out from across the room.
"Ah, Ethan! Just the stallion—er, man—I was looking for!"
He turned just in time to see Mayor Mare striding toward him, her signature glasses slightly askew, a scroll gripped in her hand. Her expression was one he knew all too well—half relief, half ‘I’m about to make my problem your problem.’
Ethan resisted the urge to rub his temples. "Morning, Mayor. What’s on fire now?"
She huffed, adjusting her glasses as she handed him a scroll. "No fires—yet. But I do need you to handle a minor dispute between the flower vendors before it turns into another… situation."
"You mean before Lily starts crying, Daisy threatens legal action, and Roseluck accuses somepony of sabotage?" Ethan asked dryly, already unrolling the parchment.
"Exactly!" Mayor Mare beamed, as if he had just volunteered rather than pointed out how ridiculous the situation was. "See? You’re already on top of things!"
Ethan sighed, glancing toward his desk one last time before resigning himself to whatever nonsense awaited him outside. Some days, his job felt like herding cats. Other days? It felt like herding dramatic, emotionally volatile cats that also happened to run the town’s economy.
He rolled his eyes. "Right. I’ll handle it."
"Wonderful! Oh, and when you’re done with that, I’ll need you to look over the latest housing permits. And then there’s the request from the Weather Patrol about next week's storm schedule—"
Ethan had already started walking toward the door. "Yep. Sounds great. Love this job. Totally fulfilling."
"I heard that, Ethan!"
He smirked but continued walking. Another day in Ponyville’s finest bureaucracy.
But Ethan had barely taken three steps toward the door when the heavy oak entrance slammed open, the impact rattling the walls and making several ponies in the reception area jump.
"ETHAN!"
Ethan was then met with a very frazzled Princess Twilight Sparkle rushing inside, her wings slightly flared, a thick stack of papers levitating beside her. Her mane, normally sleek and well-kept, was disheveled, stray strands sticking out at odd angles. She looked like she’d either been up all night researching or had sprinted here at full speed. Possibly both.
The entire room fell silent. Ponies froze mid-step, staring. A few even bowed awkwardly, unsure if this was a “formal princess visit” or a “Twilight having another meltdown” situation.
Ethan, however, didn’t miss a beat.
"Well, that’s never a good sign," he muttered under his breath before raising an eyebrow at her. "Morning, Twilight. What’s got you in a panic this time?"
"I—It’s not a panic! I’m not panicking!" Twilight declared, eyes darting to the side in a way that definitely suggested otherwise.
Ethan crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Uh-huh. You sure about that?"
"YES."
"Mmhmm. So you just burst into Town Hall like some kind of royal tax collector because…?"
"Because I need you!" Twilight blurted out.
A silence followed that statement.
Several ponies turned their heads toward them, eyebrows raised. Somewhere in the back, somepony coughed.
Twilight blinked. Realizing how that had sounded, her face instantly turned a shade of red that rivaled Big Mac’s coat. She flailed her hands, eyes wide.
"NOT LIKE THAT! I mean—I need your help! With something! It’s official!"
Ethan rubbed his temple. "Twilight, you’re an actual princess. You have, like, an entire castle of assistants, and yet you keep dragging me into royal business. Why?"
"Because you’re logical, reliable, and—" she huffed, pausing mid-rant. Then, as if catching herself, she straightened her back and smoothed out her blouse. "And because you’re technically a government official. Which means I can request your assistance when it pertains to urgent matters."
"And does this ‘urgent matter’ have a name?"
Twilight hesitated. Her wings twitched slightly, her fingers gripping her stack of papers a little tighter. Her jaw tensed, and for just a moment, the frantic energy faded—replaced by something heavier. Something that made Ethan’s casual stance shift just slightly, an old instinct kicking in at the sudden change in atmosphere.
"…Right," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Guess I’m not going to the flower vendor dispute, then."
"Wait, what?" Twilight blinked, momentarily thrown off.
"Long story. What’s the problem now?"
Twilight glanced around, lowering her voice slightly. "I’ll explain everything once we’re somewhere more private. This isn’t exactly something I want broadcasted in a public office."
Ethan exhaled sharply, already knowing that whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be simple. He cast one last glance at Mayor Mare, who had been watching the exchange with a knowing smirk.
"I suppose you’re not gonna stop her from stealing me away?" he asked dryly.
"Oh, absolutely not," Mayor Mare replied, adjusting her glasses. "Royal business outranks municipal squabbles. Do have fun, Ethan."
"Yeah. Fun."
Ethan barely had time to exhale before a flash of purple light swallowed his vision—and suddenly, the ground beneath his feet was gone.
There was a split second of weightlessness, like his stomach had just dropped out of his body. The world around him twisted and stretched, colors blending together in a disorienting rush. The pressure in his ears built up, like being yanked through a vacuum, and for a brief moment, he was nowhere. Then—
THUD.
The sensation of solid ground slammed back into his body all at once, making his knees buckle slightly. His vision flickered, and his stomach gave an unpleasant lurch, like he’d just stepped off a rollercoaster without a safety harness.
"—the hell, Twilight!?" Ethan groaned, steadying himself against the nearest surface.
"Oh, quit being dramatic. You’ve been teleported before," Twilight said, already shuffling papers on a cluttered desk.
"Doesn’t mean I like it," Ethan muttered, shaking off the lingering nausea before finally taking in his surroundings.
The room was massive, but the sheer amount of books, papers, and magical oddities made it feel smaller than it was. Towering crystal walls reflected the sunlight in shifting blues and purples, casting soft glows along the sleek, polished floors. The castle was grand, awe-inspiring, almost cathedral-like in its towering beauty—but Twilight’s chaotic office space made it clear that this was still very much a lived-in place.
Books were stacked in uneven piles across the desk, some half-open with bookmarks sticking out at odd angles. Scrolls—many of them unrolled—covered the wooden surface, alongside ink bottles, quills, and what looked like at least three empty coffee mugs. A nearby bookshelf was stuffed to capacity, some tomes hastily crammed in sideways to fit. In the corner, a chalkboard was covered in arcane symbols and hastily scrawled notes, the writing so frantic it looked like it had been scribbled mid-breakdown.
Ethan let out a low whistle. "Huh. Looks like you’ve had a totally normal, not-at-all stressful night."
Twilight shot him a tired glare but didn’t argue. Instead, she flicked her fingers, magically clearing a chair of scrolls before motioning for him to sit.
"Take a seat. This is… a lot."
"I figured." Ethan sighed, dropping into the chair while rubbing his temple. "Alright, hit me. What’s so important you had to kidnap me from work?"
Twilight took a deep breath, pressing her hands flat against the desk. Then, finally, she met his gaze, her voice steady but heavy with meaning.
"It’s Queen Umbra."
Author's Note
Call her Robert the way she go Downy on my Jr.
The name hung heavy in the air
Ethan didn’t move. He didn’t blink, didn’t frown, didn’t even shift in his seat. He just stared at Twilight, his expression unreadable, his body unnaturally still.
The tick of a clock filled the silence. A faint breeze stirred the loose pages on her desk, making the parchment whisper against the wood. Somewhere in the castle, the distant hum of life continued, shoes clicking against crystal floors, the muffled sound of conversation drifting from another room. But here, in this moment, everything felt suspended.
His fingers twitched against his knee before curling into a loose fist.
And just for a second, he could feel it again.
That cold paranoia, curling at the edges of his thoughts like smoke. Slipping beneath his skin. That invisible weight pressing against his shoulders, the phantom touch of unseen chains.
But the feeling vanished as quickly as it came. Buried under years of practiced control.
Ethan exhaled through his nose, leaned back in his chair, and finally spoke.
"Huh.”
Twilight’s brow furrowed. She expected more. A stronger reaction. A flinch. A curse. Maybe even outright denial.
Instead, Ethan just… sat there.
"That’s it?" she asked, studying him carefully.
He let out a short, humorless chuckle, forcing a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You say her name like it’s supposed to mean something to me."
Twilight’s frown deepened. She wasn’t buying it.
"Ethan—"
"What do you want me to say?" he cut in, tapping his finger against the armrest. "That I’m surprised? That I didn’t see this coming?"
His voice was steady but there was an edge to it.
Twilight was about to speak but stopped.
She saw it now, the way he sat just a little too straight, how his leg started bouncing, fingers fidgeting against the armrest. Like he was holding something back, forcing his emotions into a bottle ready to burst.
But she knew she had to do this, even if it made Ethan uncomfortable. And that made her feel all the more worse.
Carefully, she pressed on. "I know you don’t—" She stopped, adjusted. "I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But Umbra’s situation has changed. And I need you to understand—"
"No, I understand perfectly."
Ethan sat forward suddenly, elbows on his knees, pinning her with a look that made her words die in her throat.
The smirk was gone.
"You’re telling me she’s free."
Silence stretched between them.
Twilight’s lips parted slightly, as if she was about to correct him. But what was the point? There was no sugarcoating this.
She sighed. "Not necessarily free. But… no longer sealed."
Ethan looked to the floor as he let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his hair, letting it linger at the back of his neck before falling away. It was a small thing. A small, familiar thing.
Twilight caught it, keeping her eyes trained on him.
Then, without looking up to her, he whispered, "Tell me what the hell's going on."
Twilight hesitated for a moment, averting her eyes.
She had known Ethan long enough to understand his version of panic. It was a quiet before the storm and his current demeanor was putting her on edge. She knew he'd snap, knew he would explode. Of course this was gonna happen, she was just bracing for it now.
Twilight inhaled slowly, folding her hands on the desk. "We knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time."
Ethan scoffed. "Yeah? Funny how that never made the news."
Twilight frowned but didn’t rise to the bait. "The seal has been weakening for years. We tried everything, Celestia, Luna, Cadence, even me. We combed through Star Swirl’s counter-sealing spells, reinforced the barriers a dozen times over, but nothing worked. The cracks kept forming."
Ethan crossed his arms. "So between four alicorns and one of the smartest unicorns in history, nobody could fix one damn lock?"
Twilight’s eyes flashed. "You think we didn’t try?"
Ethan held her stare.
Neither of them moved.
Twilight then closed her eyes for a moment before continuing, "The seal wasn’t just a ‘lock,’ Ethan. It was a containment spell wrapped around her very essence, keeping her physically and magically separated from this world. But magic isn’t… eternal. Spells decay. Even ones woven by alicorns."
"So you knew this was a time bomb."
"Yes," she admitted. "We just didn’t know when it would go off."
Ethan leaned back in his chair again, licking his lips as he did so. He hated how casually they were saying it—like it was some abstract problem, a crack in a dam they hadn’t been able to patch. Like it wasn’t her.
"So what?" he asked with a wave of his hand. "She broke free? Just like that?"
Twilight shook her head. "No. The seal collapsed a few months ago. But she didn’t escape."
That made Ethan pause. "What?"
"Cadence was the first to notice it." Twilight tapped lightly against the desk, her eyes drifting somewhere between distant and thoughtful. "She felt it unraveling from the Crystal Empire. Like a rope snapping thread by thread."
Ethan narrowed his eyes, "And she didn’t think to mention this sooner?"
"Of course she did," Twilight shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her tone. "The second she sensed it, we ran every containment check we could. But then… something strange happened.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Strange how?"
Twilight pressed her lips together, choosing her words. "The seal failed. Completely. But Umbra didn’t break out. She stayed inside the collapsing magic. Didn’t struggle. Didn’t even try."
Ethan frowned. That… was weird.
Villains breaking free? Sure. That was standard. But one sitting quietly inside their shattered cell?
It didn't take a genius to understand that was weird.
"So what, she was waiting for you to roll out the welcome mat?"
Twilight shook her head. "We don’t know. That’s what worries us."
Twilight folded her hands, before continuing. "We had two choices, Ethan. Try to re-seal her, knowing it would fail again, or take control of the situation before she made the first move."
He hated this. Every part of it. Not just because Umbra was back. Not just because Twilight wanted him involved.
But because none of this made sense.
She had power, intelligence, and every reason to escape the second her cell cracked open. Yet she hadn't.
Instead, she had waited.
That meant something.
"Okay," he said finally, his voice quieter now. "You got her contained. You put her somewhere secure. Right?"
Twilight's ears went flat against her head.
Ethan’s stomach sank.
"Twilight."
She exhaled sharply, shifting in her seat. "We didn’t put her in a dungeon, if that’s what you’re asking."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because keeping her locked in a cage doesn’t help us understand why she didn’t run."
"Maybe she’s playing some long game." He said with a shrug.
"Or maybe she’s… different." Twilight squeaked out.
Ethan barked out a laugh. "Oh yeah, I bet she’s totally reformed. Gonna start preaching about friendship to the world any day now."
"I’m serious." Twilight’s tone was sharper than before. "We don’t know what she's like anymore, Ethan. But she’s not in some high-security vault in Canterlot. She’s…"
Ethan’s entire body tensed.
"She’s being relocated."
His heart almost skipped a beat when he saw Twilight avoid his gaze.
"Where?"
Twilight drummed her fingers across her desk as she nervously hummed.
Then, softly—carefully, like she was setting down a live bomb—she spoke.
"Your house."
Ethan froze.
The words didn’t register at first. They couldn’t. He had to have misheard her. She wouldn’t–couldn’t be saying what he thought she was saying.
His house?
His home?
Where he and Zaylee lived?
He blinked slowly, as if waiting for her to correct herself. She didn’t.
Instead, Twilight winced and braced herself.
And Ethan?
Oh, Ethan lost it.
His chair scraped violently against the floor as he shot to his feet and slammed his hands down on Twilight's desk. She flinched as her ink bottles rattled and papers were sent flying.
"No. Nope. Absolutely-fucking-not!"
Ethan began to pace, hands clenching and unclenching.
"You—she—my house?!" He couldn't get his words straight as he whirled on her, gesturing wildly. "Are you actually insane? Did you hit your head this morning? Did one of your spells backfire and melt the part of your brain that understands what a terrible, horrible, catastrophic idea this is?!"
Twilight opened her mouth.
"Nope!" He cut her off, throwing up a hand. "No explanations. No justifications. Just, no."
Twilight let him go. Let him spiral.
"You’re telling me that out of every dungeon, every locked vault, every Tartarus-sized hole in Equestria, you—you—decided the best place for her was under my goddamn roof?!"
"Ethan—"
"No, Twilight, I’m serious! I have an eleven year old daughter with me! Eleven!” Ethan said as he jabbed a finger on her desk.
“What, did you guys just wake up one morning and decide execution was too messy?!"
Twilight’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"Or better yet, why not just turn her to stone like you did with Discord? Oh, wait, let me guess—‘Friendship isn’t about turning people to stone, Ethan.’ Right?"
"That’s not why," Twilight said quietly.
"Then why?!" Ethan shouted, raising his hands above his head.
She let out a long sigh before answering.
"Because she hasn’t done anything."
Ethan froze mid-step.
"So?!"
"She’s not attacking. She’s not resisting. She’s just… there."
Ethan’s stomach tightened.
"And what—you think that’s a good thing?"
"No," Twilight said, shaking her head. "It’s terrifying."
That wasn’t the answer he expected.
"Ethan, if she had fought us, if she had tried to escape, if she had so much as lifted a finger against somepony, we could’ve justified taking action. But she didn’t. She let herself be moved. She just—" Twilight stopped. "Waits."
Ethan’s pulse spiked.
"For what?" he asked, voice strained.
Twilight shook her head. "We don’t know. And that’s why we need to keep her somewhere controlled. Somewhere she can’t make the first move."
"Oh, and what, my house is the perfect spot?"
"No," Twilight admitted. "But it’s the only place we know she won’t disappear."
Ethan glared daggers at her.
"This isn’t random, is it?" His voice was lower now.
"What?" Twilight asked, too quickly.
He stepped forward, eyes locking onto hers. "Out of everypony in Equestria, you decided to put her in my house. And I know damn well you had a list of ponies and by whatever grace of God, my name was at the very top.” He took a moment to breathe, “So tell me, Twilight, why me? Why did I win this fucking lottery?"
Twilight didn’t answer.
Ethan took another step, dropping his voice further.
"Why. My. House?"
Twilight looked away.
That was all he needed to see.
"Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me." He let out a curt chuckle, "You knew what you were doing."
"It’s not what you think—"
"Really? Because I think you guys sat down and talked about what happened last time and instead of thinking, ‘Huh, that’s weird. Maybe we should keep them as far apart as possible,’ you decided—‘Oh! Let’s lock them in a house together!’"
Twilight’s jaw tightened. "It’s not just you."
His breath hitched as the words landed like a slap. He knew what she was going to say but it did little to calm him down.
"She remembers Zaylee," Twilight said carefully. "She doesn’t talk much, but when she does, Zaylee’s name comes up. We don’t know why. But we do know that out of everypony in Equestria, you are the only one's she’s shown any reaction to. And that matters."
Suddenly, his world narrowed to two words.
She remembers.
His pulse roared in his ears, drowning out everything else. His hands clenched so hard his nails bit into his palms, but he barely felt it. His mind was already spiraling, yanked backward into memories he’d spent years trying to bury.
Zaylee’s laughter, bright and innocent—only, it wasn’t meant for him.
Umbra’s voice, soft and sickly sweet, whispering to her like she belonged to her.
"No," Ethan muttered. The word came out hoarse, almost inaudible.
But Twilight heard it.
She saw it too, the way his whole body locked up, the way his breath shuddered like he was struggling to keep something inside.
"Ethan—"
"No!" he barked, stepping back so fast he nearly knocked over his chair. His chest heaved, eyes wild, a raw kind of fury boiling up inside him, white-hot and suffocating.
"You’re telling me that she sat there in that purgatory, thinking about my daughter? Talking about her?"
Twilight didn’t answer immediately. She tried but she couldn't. How could she? It was the plain truth.
The silence. The unspoken confirmation. The fact that Twilight had known this before today and hadn’t told him.
That was the worst part.
Ethan let out a sharp, bitter laugh. It was ugly, humorless, dangerous. His hands trembled at his sides, like he didn’t know whether to punch something or collapse.
"Oh, that’s just perfect. That’s just fucking perfect."
He turned away, dragging a hand down his face as he resumed pacing.
"And what, you expect me to just let her in my house? Let her near Zaylee like—like—"
He couldn’t even finish the sentence. The very idea of it sank claws into his ribs, twisting.
Twilight stood. "Ethan, listen to me—"
"No. No, you listen to me." He turned on her quickly. "I don’t care what you think this means, what little theories you’ve been cooking up in this castle—"
He took a step closer, his voice seething with loathing.
"I won't let her near my daughter."
Twilight flinched. She opened her mouth to explain, to reassure, she didn’t know, but he didn’t let her.
"I swear to God, Twilight, if you—" He stopped himself and looked away, unable to keep her gaze.
"Ethan, I understand why you're upset—"
"No. You really, really don’t." He hissed, "It doesn’t mean I should be babysitting her!"
"Maybe not. But it means you’re the only one who might be able to predict what she’ll do."
Ethan shook his head. "That’s not—"
"She won’t listen to anypony," Twilight pressed. "But for some reason, she fixated on you two. That gives you leverage, whether you like it or not."
Ethan let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh, great. I can leverage my nightmare. That’s fantastic news. Let me throw a fucking parade!"
Twilight’s expression softened.
"Ethan, I know this isn’t fair."
"Twilight, this is so far past unfair, it’s actually impressive." He said as he placed his hands on his side.
"You’re the only option."
"No, I’m not."
"You are."
Ethan’s head dropped as his mind raced. So many thoughts flashed by as he thought, it was hard to keep focused on the situation.
"Zaylee lives there."
Twilight closed her eyes briefly. "I know."
"And yet you’re still asking me to do this."
"I am."
Silence.
Ethan let it stretch.
Let the weight of it sink in.
Then he finally spoke.
"…I need a drink."
"I need you to listen," Twilight countered.
Ethan shook his head. "Oh, I’m listening, Twilight. Believe me, I’m listening. You’re just not saying anything that makes me any less pissed off."
She took a moment to steady herself. "I know how this sounds."
"Oh, do you?" He turned to face her fully. "Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you want me to turn my house into a prison for one of the most dangerous beings in Equestria—who just so happens to have a creepy, unexplainable fixation on me and my daughter."
Twilight flinched at that last part.
Ethan didn’t let up. "And you’re standing here, looking me in the eye, actually expecting me to just agree to it."
Twilight felt guilt crawl at her. She knew what she was doing, who she was hurting. But she had to do this for the sake of Equestria, no matter the cost.
"Yes." She weakly said.
Ethan let out a slow breath, glaring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. "Unbelievable."
"I'm not finished."
"Oh, I cannot wait to hear the next brilliant stage of this master plan."
"Celestia is offering ten thousand bits a week."
The room went dead quiet.
Ethan blinked.
Once. Twice. His brain struggled to process the sentence, like a machine catching a glitch. Did he mishear? Was this some kind of elaborate joke?
He felt like passing out.
"Excuse me?" His voice came out half-choked.
"Ten thousand," Twilight repeated. Calm. Even. Like she hadn’t just dropped a life-changing number in the middle of a war zone. "Every week. For as long as you house her."
Ethan just stood there.
For the first time in the conversation, he had no words.
"That’s enough to quit your job," she added, her voice quieter now.
His eye twitched.
"Enough to focus on Zaylee full-time."
His heart skipped a beat.
"Enough to make sure she never has to worry about anything again."
Ethan closed his eyes.
Goddamn it.
She knew.
She knew.
She knew how hard things had been. The long hours, the constant exhaustion. The way his job barely covered bills, school supplies, doctor visits. The way he had to turn down things Zaylee wanted, not because she asked for much, but because he just couldn’t afford it.
And now? One decision. One terrible, horrifying, reckless decision, and all of that could go away.
But at what cost?
Ethan’s hand pressed into his temple.
"You’re a real piece of work, you know that?"
"I didn’t make the offer," Twilight said with a tilt of her head.
"No, but you knew exactly when to say it." He let out a humorless chuckle. "Hell of a coincidence that you saved that part for last."
"I wasn’t hiding it. But I needed you to understand everything else first."
This wasn’t fair.
None of this was fair.
But he knew he couldn't pass this up.
"Fine." His voice came out strained, unwilling. Like the word had been ripped out of him. "I’ll do it."
Twilight relaxed slightly, but only for a second.
"But don’t think for a damn second that I’m happy about it."
"I wouldn’t expect you to be," she admitted.
Muttering a curse under his breath, Ethan clapped his hands.
"Alright," he sighed. "Is that everything, or is there some other fresh problem you forgot to mention?"
Twilight hesitated.
And just like that, Ethan regretted asking.
"There’s… one more thing."
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose with a shake of his head.
Ethan groaned. "Of course there is. Hit me."
Twilight reached into her desk drawer, pulling out a small wooden box. It was plain, no markings, no engravings, but the way she handled it made Ethan’s skin prickle.
Carefully, she set it on the desk and opened the lid.
Inside, nestled in velvet lining, were two items.
A bracelet. A simple, elegant band of gold, etched with faint runes along the inside.
And a crystal shard.
It was roughly the size of his palm, shaped like a jagged piece of quartz, but its color was deep, dark amber, almost red when the light hit it. In the very center, an orange ruby was embedded, its surface smooth and polished. The glow inside it was faint.
It made him want to instinctively scratch at his pendent.
"What the hell am I looking at?"
"A failsafe," Twilight said simply.
Ethan didn’t like the way she said that.
"Go on."
Twilight picked up the bracelet and showed it under the light. "Celestia designed it herself. The bracelet is enchanted. It compels the wearer of the bracelet to obey the commands of whoever holds the remote."
Ethan blinked slowly.
"I’m sorry, did you just say compels?"
Twilight’s lips pressed into a thin line. "As in strong magical persuasion."
"That’s a pretty way of saying mind control."
Twilight ignored that. "When Umbra is delivered to your home, the bracelet will already be secured on her. You’ll be given this—" she sat the bracelet back down and picked up the crystal shard, turning it so the ruby caught the light. "—and if she refuses to listen, this will ensure she does."
Ethan didn’t touch it.
Didn’t move.
Just stared at it.
"So let me get this straight," he said finally. "You’re putting a dark magic tyrant in my house and handing me the only thing keeping her in check."
"Yes."
"And you think that’s a good idea?"
"I think it’s a necessary idea." Twilight nodded.
Ethan arched his brow. "Yeah. Sure. Necessary. And what happens when she finds a way around it? Because you and I both know that’s exactly what she’s gonna do."
"She won’t."
"You don’t know that."
"Ethan, this is Celestia’s magic. Nopony in recorded history has ever broken her enchantments." She said with a cross of her arms.
"Yeah, well, I doubt ‘recorded history’ had to deal with Umbra."
Twilight grumbled. "Look, I get it. This isn’t reassuring. But you wanted to know how we plan to keep her under control. This is it."
Ethan bit his inner cheek as his eyes flicked back to the bracelet.
"...She’s just supposed to wear that? All the time?"
"Yes."
"And she doesn’t get a say."
Twilight nervously coughed. "No."
Ethan hummed as he contemplated. Something about that didn’t sit right.
"And if I press the button?" he asked carefully.
"She will be compelled to obey whatever order you give."
Compelled.
He didn’t like that word.
Didn’t like any of this.
He had been on the other side of it once. Felt the weight of a will that wasn’t his own.
And now? Now, it was his turn with the leash.
But he was too exhausted to argue.
Finally, he grabbed the crystal shard, rolling it between his fingers before shoving it into his pocket.
"Fine." His voice was flat.
Twilight visibly relaxed.
"Ethan—"
"I said fine." He turned away, already heading for the door. "Just get this over with."
Ethan reached for the handle—then stopped.
There was an important question he should have probably asked earlier.
"How much time do I have? To prepare?"
Twilight didn’t hesitate this time.
"She arrives tomorrow."
Ethan's knuckles turned white as he held onto the doorknob. He felt like a blood vein was going to pop as he slowly turned back toward her.
"I’m sorry—tomorrow?" He said slowly.
Twilight only nodded.
His jaw clenched. A slow, seething glare settled on her. "You were banking on me saying yes, weren’t you?"
"No, I—"
"Bullshit." He spat, jabbing a finger at her. "You had this whole thing lined up. Finalized. Signed, sealed, and delivered. You were just waiting for me to fold."
Twilight didn’t deny it.
She met his glare head-on.
"It was always going to happen, Ethan."
For a second, he considered saying more.
A curse, an insult, a full on rant.
But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Screw you, Twilight.
He didn't say it out loud.
Didn't need to.
Because he knew she saw it in his eyes.
And with that, he opened up the door and left, slamming it shut with a little more force than needed.
Twilight waited for a moment before letting out a slow, shaking breath. She felt boneless, hollow, like she’d been holding up the weight of the entire castle and finally let it crush her.
She pressed her hands against her desk, staring blankly at the papers scattered across it. The ink stains, the frantic notes, the careful planning—
And yet, despite all of it, the only thing she could think was:
I just made one of my best friends hate me for life.
“I'm sorry, Ethan.”
Author's Note
Oh brother, this guy's about to yap.
First and foremost,
No, the artifact isn't going to be used in any weird, non-consensual ways. It's purpose is strictly for plot relevance only. However, it's use for spicy moments isn't completely off the table. But that'll be further down the road, like waaay further (Cuz you know, still gotta develop a relationship).
Second,
I can't thank you enough for all the support. Didn't expect this to blow up as fast as it did. I want to let you guys know I kick my feet up in the air and giggle anytime I read and re-read your comments.
And thirdly,
This chapter was supposed to be longer but I felt like I was over bloating it. So I just chopped it off where I could and separated them. Expect the third chapter around the corner some time soon (Or maybe not. Could always have a random heart attack and you guys would never know).
