The Realistic Applications of the Magic of Friendship

Chapters

The Day Everything Simply Collapsed
Divine Intervention
Of Night-mares and Nightmares (Clop)
A Forging Foray for Friendship
Enlightening Revelations

The Day Everything Simply Collapsed

Canterlot, the capital, where the highest of unicorns and the princesses themselves reside with the working class, in a sort of utopia; each can pursue their natural talent and dreams, without the worries of lesser civilizations, such as how many bits they could afford to lose this month, how much happiness they needed to forsake for survival and if their pitiful life was truly worth living. Indeed, most wouldn’t give up their life for the world; Calligraphy was not one of those ponies.

We join you in a dank, desolate, run-down house in the slums of Canterlot; while many would speak of a utopia, no such ideas have come to your mind, too preoccupied by hunger, the consistent chases of the Royal Guards, your briefly lived colthood or your parents.

Crack! The wall shakes, almost threatening to tumble before it balances. The once quiet, serene night is graced with broken, raspy breaths, more worthy of being called sobs, while your hoof finally relays the register of pain to your disillusioned mind. Smart, Calligraphy, like you really need one more thing to worry about right now. Perhaps the sole advantage of being an anti-social pony was that it was never required to speak of such matters, of tearing open old wounds, long since devoid of blood, or attempting to repair what had been shattered a thousand times before. The past was not the foundation of your being, it was merely the reason for your pathetic predicament; thinking of it held no solutions, nor did it help your poor morale. The thoughts try to worm their way inside your core, but you've dealt with them before, and with a quick shove, they return to the depths of your mind, to be heard from again when your mind is weak, when your belly is hungry and your eyes are tired once more. For now, at least, they seem to be banished.

Your hoofs beat softly against the ground, carefully making your way to the window; one can never be too careful in the slums, with the Royal Guard patrolling and the less than savory inhabitants roaming around, picking from the scraps that were left by the guards. You’re not sure which you’d rather catch you; the guards, who would probably toss you in prison for your pick pocketing ways, despite lack of proof, or any other pony lurking around at this hour. The latter group certainly had more varied ways of breaking your spirit; slavery was certainly the worst, although being shipped off as ‘goods’ to some foreign land was not far behind. Perhaps the only fortunate thing about them was that both camps had yet to come close to capturing you to date, as they were more preoccupied with larger, more important or more profitable groups.

The moon was obscured by a thick veil of dark, sobering clouds; rainfall was almost a sure thing. An impatient growl erupts from your stomach, causing you to duck down and slowly crawl away from the window; a heavy silence replaced the room, your breath coming in long, quiet intakes. Was anypony out there? Did they hear you? Who were they? If there’s one thing being alone taught you, it was that caution was the key to safety; slowly, quietly, you work your way to the back of the dark room, towards your familiar resting place. Pushing a forehoof against the door, it fortunately refuses to creak, and your meager form slinks inside, closing it delicately behind you with a hoof in the same cautious fashion.

Paranoia may be a thought no other ponies have on a consistent basis, but it’s better to be safe than sorry; the only sound that travels to your ears, that of labored breathing, is none but your own. Tense seconds pass, and no alien sounds bounce around in the former closet you've hidden yourself inside; allowing a small sigh of release to pass your lips, albeit slightly restrained. Your barrel presses itself against the newspaper covered floor, the Canterlot Times retaining only slightly more heat than the floor; various issues of irrelevant topics form a makeshift bed, which takes up the majority of the small, cramped closet you have the pleasure of calling your bedroom.

There’s a few more seconds of completely tense silence, before a small, insignificant drop of rain patters down the patchy roof, falling through the unkempt shingles. The familiar pitter-patter of raindrops, following their stalwart, brave commander, begin to cascade down upon Canterlot; many roofs were well protected from such a pathetic onslaught, but for you, there’s little that can be done. Fortunately, there are no leaks directly above you, but you push a few of the more humid scraps of paper underneath the door, hopefully plugging any leaks that could happen; you know that sooner or later, the small, watery soldiers will break down the barrier and flood into your abode, soaking the already cold bed. An icy chill to match the night once it happens, but at the very least, the small amount of sleep you may be able to award yourself should be taken sooner rather than later, which means that if the improvised barrier can hold against the slow, persistent assault for the next few hours, the next few hours should be a blissful, dreamless sleep, an escape from the reality of a desolate existence into a void of nothingness; a pathetic version of bliss, but rather fitting for your sad predicament...

Your eyes drift open slowly; as predicted, your wall has fallen, and the freezing water has pooled around the closet, sticking the pieces of newspaper to your coat. The few you’ve used as a blanket remain relatively unscathed from combat, but unfortunately, the bulk of your troops have been lost; replacements are always difficult to acquire. A soft groan escapes your dry lips, untouched by the rain; thinking back, you should probably have kept a, relatively, clean bucket somewhere; lack of indoor plumbing was a rather serious issue you were unable to rectify at the moment, considering the distinct lack of bits in your nonexistence pockets.

You lift your stiff hooves, slowly trying to rise; at least the time has to be checked before sleep can be attempted, but not had, once again. There’s a distinct lack of finesse in your movements, although you choose to pin the blame on the lack of sleep, rust-like limbs and terrible night, even by the usual rating standards you assign to terrible. The door slowly opens, pushed by your weak hoof, creaking in the dank humidity left by the rainfall; at least it stopped at some point, but the plink of the cascading droplets of water is still heard, indicating that it probably ceased relatively close to the time you awoke.

Casting a wayward glance outside the broken window, it seems as if the clouds had cleared, allowing the sun to cast warming rays upon the chill, damp ground. Hmph. The sun was a detestable entity, serving only to make the life of her subjects more difficult by her lazy, leeching presence; after all, did Equestria truly need two princesses to control the astral array? A single princess would do, and they certainly didn’t need to benefit from such an extravagant palace when ponies like you, among the other riff-rafts of society, were practically homeless, sheltered only by the very scraps that the high class chose to let drift away from their influence. You’d heard the very high-class ponies who kept you entombed in this wretched life say that you had somehow earned your place through misdeeds, that karma had been a fickle mistress who had done her job well by segregating you from the working class, and more importantly, keeping the high-class safe from wretched, putrid and uncouth trash, such as yourself.

Well, the daily rant and self-loathing had probably been accomplished for today; it’s pointless to enrage yourself even further without some rich stallion to demolish. Judging from the position of the sun, the markets were just beginning to set up, and would thus be devoid of potential targets for you. Might as well let the sun dry you off a little, and allow it to serve some other purpose for you, other than obstructing your potential for further sleep. There are a few patches of untouched ground scattered around the pitiful room, few of them happen to be basking in a glow of sunlight, while even less of them are relatively dry, and thus suitable for a limited bout of relaxation. Treading carefully around the haphazardly placed puddles, you locate yourself to one of the few safe zones, folding your forelegs before carefully setting down your flank, making sure you don’t dampen your body needlessly any more than it needs to; considering how your main goal at the moment is to dry yourself off, it’s probably a good idea to be cautious, especially with the lack of towels in the environs.

It’s a slow, boring process, but it’s better than being frozen once the night sky rises; even the cool evening would be unpleasantly cold. With the day you have planned, you’d rather not worry about freezing to death after your potential success. Pick-pocketing is a difficult task, and there’s no point in making it even more difficult, especially when the stakes are so high; a few days have passed since your last decent meal and your reserve of ill-gotten bits is depleted to the point of extinction. You’ll need to be flawless, since if the guards are alerted before you’re a safe distance away, it will certainly be a challenging escape; even worse if you were dripping wet, as they’d easily be tracking you down.

Time passes slowly, one of the few things that doesn’t change between you and the upper class. By the time your limbs are dry and filled with a warm feeling, the market has certainly opened their stalls, although it never truly buzzes until the afternoon; some ponies are lazy, even in the applications that ensure their survival. With a groan, you roll over, rising onto your four hooves and stretching out your tired, stiff body. Taking a few cautionary steps, avoiding the now shrunken, uncommon puddles of water, you grab your nearly demolished saddle-bags from the counter, proceeding to carefully nudge open the door to your abode. Caution is the key to safety, after all.

The streets are desolate, mostly abandoned; all the homes run down, broken, serving as a testament to how unfair Canterlot truly is. Some ponies get a home, some ponies live in the palace and some, unfortunate souls like you, enjoy the run down areas that you’re certain the princess herself couldn’t care less for. How long had the inaction been? How many days had the ignorance of your tyrannical rulers, unable to please anypony but the highest, greedy unicorns and a few, the ‘elite’, of pegasus and earth pony form? The passing of days means little without a way to catalogue them; all you know is that your situation has only become more dire over the years.

The scenery gradually changes, from a series of inhabitable, paltry homes, to smaller, more acceptable, although still sub-par houses. Every house blurs together as you walk, having been in the same degenerating pattern in your oldest memory; the only change was how more and more houses would simply fall into disrepair, ended up either condemned for legitimate reasons, or, as the Canterlot elite would say, the effects of progress were finally coming to fruition. Progress, of course, being the bits that, originally, were given to the ponies who could barely afford paying the rich for their housing, which had been funnelled into the pockets of those already wealthy mares and stallions for the morally just and important cause of hosting a dinner party whenever they pleased, but of course, they could already do that, and could merely do so much more frequently.

The market district was vibrant, filled with ponies from all walks of life, outdoor restaurants and, in particular, a posh, vibrant ensemble of elitist, rich snobs; a perfect facade for such a horrid system. The merchants, in general, were the middle class of Canterlot; fortunate enough to have a well-lit home, with built in magical heating crystals, but not fortunate enough to use their wealth as leverage to obtain more serious benefits, such as a house next to the palace or invitations to every ball in town. The rich, more eloquent visitors of the market were your primary target; although you’d end up buying produce with stolen bits, they were originally stolen from the middle and poor classes. A thief who steals from a thief is not as much of a thief as the latter; once goods are dirty, they never truly become clean again.

Scanning the market, it’s rather easy to see who’s been favoured by the mare referred to as luck; stallions who wear a suit for a leisurely stroll with their mare, wearing a dress that has more gems than you’ve had meals which illuminate a vibrant path through the street. With all their wealth, they tend to be a little, shall we say, lacking in perception. Another uncouth, filthy, ragged pony bumping into a posh, highly-groomed stallion never really resulted in anything other than a slur of insults; that is, assuming they would have the luck to avoid you, since they’d certainly end up feeling a little lighter once they were home.

Your eyes float around, jumping from stallion to stallion, sizing up how fat the wallets you could potentially pluck were; the richer stallions never were the brightest, in general. Even dumber were the ones who insisted on doing their own shopping, or going for a stroll with pockets that just bulged with ripe, delicious bits. Mmm, but you’re getting ahead of yourself; first, a target...

Your pupils lock onto a pair of fancy unicorns, the stallion wearing a prim suit, walking alongside an overly thin, ‘beautiful’ mare with a delicately styled mane; she’s clearly spent too much time dieting, which is quite ironic to you. Paying so called experts ludicrous amounts, only to be told that she should eat less, whilst you’re left starving; perfect revenge. You can only hope that you’ll end up ruining whatever little plans they have, since it’s not particularly difficult to mess up a rich couple’s plans by forcing them to return home, possibly even missing an important appointment they had planned. Your once more growling stomach, however, reminds you that all such thoughts are icing on the cake, and your original goal is much more important: food.

You weave through the crowd, slowly moving towards them; although it’s rather easy to steal a bag full of bits while careening into somepony, it’s much more effective, not to mention a whole lot less suspicious, to stealthily remove it from their suit pocket while they aren’t looking. There’s a plethora of ponies that’re around, but they aren’t of much concern. After all, most of them are too busy indulging in their wealth or trying to earn their day’s keep to notice a single unicorn pretentiously pilfering somepony’s pocket. Especially when this somepony just so happens to turn the corner into a regularly deserted section of the market, reserved for knick-knacks and fancy bobbles from far off lands; things that entice those who are too preoccupied in the visual cultures of others to be bothered with actual problems.

It doesn’t take too long to get to the corner, despite how crowded the market is, and fortune seems to favour you: they are still within sight. Oh, and they’re actually perusing a small, floor bound assortment of some foreign objects, how perfect! You might even be drooling a bit at this point; you wipe your mouth with a forehoof, just to be sure. It’d be a shame to be hauled in by the guards to some mental asylum because you’re supposedly crazy and unfit to be among the public. Now, time to execute this pick-pocketing; your stomach is growing even more restless with each passing thought.

Stealth is only part of the key to this operation; the rest is simply appearing normal enough to be cleared of suspicion. Once you manage to waltz away without alerting anypony, there’s virtually nothing that any guard can do to stop you; tracking you is out of the question and they won’t be in pursuit until you’re long gone.

Carefully, you move next to them, the stallion feigning a smile as you get into position. No Canterlot stallion worth his salt would ever do something like that legitimately; in any case, your eyes wander around the blanked full of haphazardly placed objects you couldn’t care less about. No, you’re entranced by a much more valuable prize that’s just inching out of that posh fool’s clothing by a hair. The merchant of this excuse for a stall even seems to be ignorant of her surroundings, a large hood obscuring her view from everything but her own merchandise.

“How much is that magnificent vase?” There’s your chance. You don’t pay attention to the rest of their pointlessly pointless conversation, but their attention is averted in the opposite direction of his coin purse. Although you’ll need to quickly scamper off after this one, you have a feeling this haul is going to be abnormally large... Slowly, cautiously, your muzzle finds the stallion’s pocket, worming around the loop of that precious, precious bag, and then slowly retracting, taking great care to avoid nudging him in any way; it’d be a shame to inform him now, with sweet victory within reach. With one final, gentle tug, the purse comes loose from its prison, and tastes the fresh air for mere moments, before...

Clank! What was...?

“My watch!” Oh no. You’ve got to be kidding... Your eyes drift down to the source of the loud, metallic sound; a golden pocket watch, slowly ticking away in the tense setting. Your eyes readjust themselves skyward, meeting a rather angry pair of eyes, looking at his delicate, fine silk coin purse between your cracked lips. Your body shifts into overdrive, shoving your loot into your saddlebags before turning around and high-tailing it out of there. You’ve botched some thievery before, but never during broad daylight, and especially not with so many ponies around.

“Thief! Guards, guards!” Oh, simply perfect... You look ahead of you and, fortunately, the guards don’t seem to be stationed there; casting a gaze behind you, however, reveals a duo of golden armoured law-enforcers, probably ready to beat your skull in once they catch you. There are only two earth ponies, so that’s a relief...

“Halt! You can’t outrun us!” The grizzled voice booms in your ears, amplified by the blood rushing through your heated veins. Risking another look behind you as you duck into an alley, there’s a pegasus with them. Oh fanbuckingtastic. Now he’s certain to outpace you, even with that heavy armour occupying his upper body. Not good, especially since there’s bound to be more guards roaming around.

You can hear him make a swift turn around the alley, his comrades probably a bit behind; you did get a few seconds of a head-start, but nowhere near enough. Think. Slow them down. There’s not enough time to think! You fling a trash can behind you without any sort of regard, hoping it’s filled with something that could slow them down; anything really... Turning around to view your luck, a relieved smile spreads across your lips: glass. Sharp, pointy glass. Never have you been so happy somepony was so careless with tossing away their trash.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t really stop that pegasus who’s trailing your flank, but you do another sharp turn after exiting the alley; the main market. Bowling through whatever stupid ponies chose to stand in your way, you push through to another dank alley; at least you’re getting closer to home, where you can safely hide. You turn around, gazing back at nothingness. That silly guard must be tending to those snobby-

Your train of thought is unceremoniously interrupted by that same guard, or so you assume, tackling you from above. Your face meets the cold dirt as you tumble along with him, beginning a vicious struggle to see who ends up on top. Minor scrapes and bruises form during your battle, all for naught; with a final, powerful flip, he ends up holding your barrel under his forehooves. Blast. He’s even giving you a cocky smile, although you’re thankful he’s not beating you unconscious yet.

Pure panic begins surging through your core; what can you do? You try to push him off, getting met with a harsh shove, further imprinting your form into the ground. Wiggling away won’t work either; his grip is too strong, and what after? He’ll just catch up. Your mind keeps racing, trying to find some sort of escape. You look around, a sharp knife coming under your gaze. You don’t think; your body moves without approval as you grab the knife in a flash, slashing it across the exposed soldier’s chest.

You weren’t ready for this. You weren’t thinking. It just.... It just happened. Everything happens so slowly, each detail being burned into your permanent memory. The blood... It’s all across your barrel, a tainted crimson hue on your soiled white coat. His coat is tarnished as well, the fresh wound pouring out that red liquid... Your jaw opens, the knife dropping with a sharp clang, bouncing along the battlefield before coming to rest, covered in that... Stuff...

Oh Celestia this is bad... Your hooves scramble pathetically, scraping you against the rough dirt as you move away from the... The body? He’s still alive, since heavy panting and a few low gurgles reaching your ears, which choose to twitch in disgust at each sound. It mixes in with your laboured breaths, your blood-red barrel rising and falling with each desperate gulp.

“I... I never meant for this to happen...” Your eyes lock with his as you murmur that singular phrase over, and over, and over. They pleaded with you, his breaths becoming more ragged. You can hear his fellow soldiers crying for him, but you can’t stay. You’re as good as dead if they catch you.

Your hooves barely listen to commands, staggering and shacking like a foal fresh out of the womb without a warm mother to press itself against. Inch by inch, your hooves begin to pick up the pace, striving to match your beating heart. If you can turn into the street and get to the slums, they’ll never find you. You’ll have wanted posters all over Canterlot, asking for you dead or alive, but it’s better than actually being dead. Your vision is shaky and blurred, but you keep pressing onward; you can’t turn back. You’ve come this far. That’s your only motivation now. Now, just turn the co-

Slam! It’s not really clear as to what hit you, but you weren’t expecting something like that. A stoic figure towers above you, hoof raised; they must’ve clobbered your something fierce, with the way your head is pounding even harder than before. Your eyes start to focus on the pony, his blue mane in particular, horn poking out of that ragged tuft of hair. He sure could pack a punch, but there’s no blade to even the odds this time; turning your beating head to the alley, you can see a few more guards, certainly more than before, starting to help that battered pegasus up. You almost feel sick, partially from the inevitability of your cruel fate, but particularly because you’ve come this far, as far as assaulting a guard, only to be caught by this... This...

“Captain Shining Armor, sir!” A few of the guardsmen salute, and the pony towering above you gives a mere nod; both his hooves were currently occupied with subduing you.

“At ease!” His voice is filled with a practiced authority, but you can tell from the tone that it’s forced; the ringing in your ears, however, doesn’t help in confirming your hypothesis. “Private, chain him. I do not want another wounded here today.” The guard he addressed took out a length of steel chains, each end encompassed by a long, thick circle. Probably one for each hoof, considering how he’s already slapping them on; they’re tight around your quivering limbs, but you aren’t going to risk complaining.

That captain turned to another guard, donning an unusual red coat of armour. “How’s the recruit doing?” Ah, apparently you were right; his voice is dripping with compassion. Brothers in arms, after all... “He’s lost a lot of blood, but I think he’ll make it.” He glances over you, eyes stopping in disgust at the drying stain on your coat. A final clink echoes in your ears as the chains are firmly cuffed to each leg, sealing any possibility of escape with the locking of tumblers. The captain’s gaze follows the queer stallion’s, pausing on your stain, before addressing his kin.

“I’ll take this one in myself; I’m sure Celestia will give him a nice, dirty cell to live out the rest of his days... Shield.” The odd, lone stallion salutes. “I want you to make sure our recruit makes it. Keep him company.” There’s that same shift, from stalwart commander to passionate friend, or at the very least, considerate superior. “The rest of you are dismissed; return to your posts!” Another flip, each stallion responding with a heart filled “Yes, sir!” before dispersing.

He turns to you, finally removing his heavy hoofed foreleg from your barrel. “On your feet.” Filled with contempt, and rightfully so, you suppose. There’s no choice but to obey him, and so you slowly rise. “To the palace. Try anything funny like you did with Slicer, and I’ll make sure to put you down with excruciatingly painful prejudice.” Your body shivers, he certainly doesn’t play around. Your chains rattle pathetically as you set off to the distant palace, to be paraded through the streets like some sort of sick trophy; you didn’t even notice that they stripped you of your saddlebags. Hopefully your existence will be short lived; it can only go downhill from here...

The palace itself was luxurious, finely decorated columns built by the most skilled masons Equestria had to offer; a beautiful, serene feel radiated off of the massive marble marvels. Instead of being a serene, calming aura, however, they end up increasing that nervous, hopeless feeling that brews in your stomach. You’ve never been to the palace before, but you’re certain that normal ponies would feel out of place in such a towering, pristine display of needless wealth. How many bits had gone into the creation of this sumptuous room alone? The only answer is a haunting silence, broken only by the occasional scraping of armour upon itself when one of the numerous guards readjusts himself from his stony position, and the soft clops on the cold palace floor.

The double-doors to Celestia’s own throne room slowly open, Shining Armor pushing you through like some sort of object. The vast room shows an expansive amount of wealth, from multicoloured patchworks of some silly art to gold trimmed curtains, but the largest display of such unneeded richness is beneath her posterior; a golden throne. Below it, three of her undoubtedly closest advisors sat, one of each race; two of them resting on posh, gilded pillows, while the earth pony had but a single such untrimmed object. It figures that the earth pony would be shafted; at least royalty didn’t disappoint in reality. There also seems to be somepony hiding behind that elegant throne, although you can’t really get a clear view; probably some innocent maid, startled by the sight of such a madpony.

Although the shocked gasps from all but the princess herself was the icing on the cake. At this point, you’ve resigned yourself to your fate; there might as well be some senseless, perverse pleasure before you bid this world farewell. Two of the advisors exchange hushed whispers, while the guards mumble to each other under their breath. Your satisfaction is cut short as your captor forces your head down, the only way in tartarus you’d end up bowing to such an unworthy ruler. As she addressed him, it served as a further way to kill your short-lived joy.

“Shining Armor, my most loyal Captain, what have you drug before me?” Condescending, although she manages to keep that sort of calm, soothing tone that she so gleefully uses to fool and manipulate the most gullible subjects.

“This... pony has robbed one of Canterlot’s most contributing citizens.” His voice is calm and collected, but there’s certainly a fair bit of blind rage building up. Oh, this should be a fun little stunt, since you’re already going to be imprisoned for life either way.

“I ended up stabbing one of your oppressive servants, you tyrannical wench!” Your voice echoes around the now silent throne room, devoid of all sounds but your rasping breath. You think the princess even raised an eyebrow, which is a rather fine compliment. You continue. “I was starving, and since your utopia wasn't willing to give me what I deserved, I took it. When you tried to stop me from taking what was rightfully mine, I fought back against your dictatorship. Is that truly so wrong, your highness?” The last word was practically spit, tossing away all the prestige that it was normally given.

For a minute, you actually think the princess is going to lose her cool; the whole room is still, as if time had frozen itself in that prestigious moment. She cast a glance behind her prestigious throne, whispering a few words you couldn't hope to hear, and then turned to gaze at her beloved, trusted captain.

“Dungeon. Now.” Ooh, so you did crack a little bit of that calm, collective spirit off of her. “Of course, your highness.” His quick reply, almost sickly sincere, but you imagine he was trying to undo the taint you had attached to such a precious term. A hard shove later, and you’re walking towards the side of the throne room, towards an old, wooden door that seemed out of place; the only opening was a barred window. You cast a glace towards the princess, pure hatred burning behind your eyes.

“If you ever want to admit to your wrongdoings, I’m sure you’ll know where to find me, Celestia.” Once again, her once prestigious term was said with such utter hatred and contempt you could only hope it soiled it for her in the future. She had a long future to mull over it, after all. Her dutiful captain, however, sees it fit to punish you; before the door opens, a shove just a tad too hard, and your body impacts against the wall rather forcibly. You thought that a sarcastically muttered apology was said, but you can’t be too sure with the old, creaking door opening; the cool air invaded the throne room, as had the sound mere moments ago.

You step on the first cold, damp stone, gazing down the darkness; there’s only torchlight for illumination. With another push to urge you forward, nearly causing you to stumble down the long flight of stairs, you begin marching into an abyss, with nothing to look forward to but a cold, dank cell, and nothing to remember but a few precious days of your short-lived colthood...

If reality was looming over you before, it’s now crashing down, drowning you in a torrential flurry of pure despair. Each step echoes around you, bouncing further into the endless depths of your prison. The torches almost seem to be imbued with a sort of permanent magic, as each handle was not singed in the slightest, nor were they of different length. A shame, that such forethought had been put into them, but not the empire itself; the prison itself was primed and prepped, but the actual help for those who risked to fall in them remained absent.

Time almost seems to slow as the descent halts, each cell becoming visible in the flickering light; each one empty, with a rusted, metal excuse for a bed, although that’s the only figure you can properly make out. The ever silent captain continues to force you ahead, putting that much more distance between you and the outside world; crushing your nonexistent hope that much further. After all, what pony could fight their way through squadrons of the Royal Guard, let alone Celestia herself? Certainly not a starving, deprived stallion like you, and there’s certainly not a rescue party coming for you; criminals are never truly adored by the public, especially those who attack their ‘perfect’ land, or targeting those who try and protect it.

Eventually, there’s a sudden, unexpected tug on your shackles; losing balance, your back legs give way, followed by your forelegs, with a sandstorm of dust rising above the point of impact for a few moments, before settling back into their previous, calm state. You turn around, being greeted by a faint hum of magic and a cell door slowly grinding open, with his unspoken command floating in the air: enter.

Swallowing a gulp of air, filled with the invisible specks of dust, you rise; slowly, knees weak and stomach ill, you take your last few, free steps. Standing in front of the door, you survey the inside of the cell itself; other than the pathetic ‘bed’, there’s nothing noteworthy inside. The same stone pattern surrounds the cell, cold, uncaring, with no signs of decay, despite the obvious age of the dungeon. Probably some sort of preservation magic, among the same branch as the torches themselves; marvelous, although why they didn’t cast this spell on the slums before they begun their perpetual decay, you’ll probably never know. It’s not as if Celestia had a full dungeon that needed vitally needed preservation; to your knowledge, you’re the only ‘criminal’ entombed in this solemn cavern.

Apparently, your Shining-jail keeper seems to think you’ve had enough day dreaming; another shove, this time much more powerful, as there’s nopony around to observe him, and you’re sent sprawling on the floor, the impact stirring up another noticeable amount of dust, which gets drawn into your lungs by a gasp of pain. The following coughs bounce off the walls, and when you gaze up at your tormentor, he’s already locking the cage, a sick, satisfied grin plastered on his face. He probably gets hit kicks from moments like this, with absolute power over the fate of another pony; he doesn’t speak, and simply turns around, carrying the keys in a glowing aura away from your cell.

You suppose that’s it. Assuming that you’re fed and given water, which at this point is a relatively questionable action, this is what you’re reduced to; pointless imprisonment for attempting to sustain yourself. You walk to the metal platform on the side, the cold steel sending frissons throughout your body. Your eyes stare at the blank wall, before they begin to close; the silence is haunting, but at the very least, you can sleep safely. A loud rumbling, however, reminds you that you won’t be sleeping happily, as your stomach is still empty, and at this point, probably trying to digest itself.

Hopefully, the sweet embrace of death isn’t too far away; while starvation or dehydration may be pathetic ways to ago, unless Celestia has the mercy to sentence you to death, which you sincerely doubt, they both seem to be the only escape from this torment. A sunrise execution is looking rather... Nice, at this point. With nothing left to do, your mind simply wanders among the few, highly cherished moments of happiness you had been able to garner through life; in particular, a small, distant memory of a purple filly, who had always ignored you.

Too enraptured in her books to notice your infatuation with her, perhaps it was for the best; she’s probably somewhere far off, studiously working at whatever her talent was, and much better without you, but you still can’t help thinking about her. Perhaps she’d never even known of your existence, but memories and fantasy are all you have left; with a lack of memories, that just leaves fantasy to occupy your last sad days.

Divine Intervention

You’re not sure how long passed; there’s no rising sun, sleep comes in scattered, small fragments and, obviously, there’s no manual method of measuring time. Pacing around the cell, taking in each minuscule, uninteresting detail of each... Block? You’re not sure if this area was excavated or it was built, which is a conundrum that occupies your mind; it’s nice to have any sort of break from the hopeless struggles of boredom as you waste away. In any case, it had lost the, although small, amount of interest it had given you; when everything looked the same, it wasn’t terribly difficult to memorize every single detail. It was remarkable at how universal each cell was, but you only have evidence of how placid and boring your cell is.

A faint, distance creaking breaks the monotonous silence; hoof beats echo off the walls, along with what sounds like chattering ponies. Probably some guards, complaining about being forced to deliver any sort of provisions to your cell, or boasting about the grotesque, horrid way they’ll execute you; either way, a blissful distraction or a finale to this tragedy. You certainly know which one you’re hoping for; death is inevitable whether you’re fed or not.

The echoing, metallic clops resound off the walls, slowly growing in volume; the hushed voices are still nothing but bits and pieces of words, unable to be glued together to form a coherent sentence... Although a voice sounds rather filly-like. Guards were often well-built stallions; it’s rather interesting that, of all the ponies they could send, it was some poor mare. Hopefully not a maid, since you’d be positively ashamed of scaring her wits out of her; that is, of course, assuming you had any sympathy for them. Not as if they cared about you, so why should you care about them?

The hourglass that is time ticks away, each step they take another step closer to knowing your fate. They sound close, almost within eyesight; taking a few steps towards the bars, you try to fit your muzzle through and cast a gaze sideways, in hopes of seeing exactly who you have to deal with. The bars, however, don’t possess a gap large enough for you to fit your head between; at best, you can see the next cell diagonally. Your legs move you away from the gaps, turning around to place yourself upon the slab of metal, facing away from the gaps. While you’re curious, depending on how much they’ve been informed, the reaction could be wonderfully precious to you.

The sounds suddenly silence, only a few cells away, if you could judge by how loud the echo was. You’re tempted to turn back, to check if they weren’t merely deceiving you and were right outside your cell; you resist, solely to not fall into any trap they have laid, and not to ruin the element of surprise if they were unaware.

“Stay here, and remain silent. I simply wish for you to observe, my student.” Her voice pierces the dead silence, the same regal, haughty tone from when she addressed you. Had Celestia truly taken you up on your offer? There’s a hushed whisper, probably from her student, before the hoofsteps resume, ceasing before long. You heard them so close, you’re certain that she’s right outside your cell, her eyes burning fierce, imaginary holes into your coat.

Your ear twitches as a rather stallion-like cough echoes around you; proximity would lead you to believe that they’re right behind you, but you refuse to look. Who would she possibly bring? Perhaps that captain with the blue mane, carrying a sort of sabre with which to cleanly cut your head off; you won’t have the honour of being paraded around in public like some sort of war hero, but you’re certain that the guards will take great pleasure from it.

“It is impolite to ignore somepony when they respectfully address you, -“

“Do you think I care?” Your voice breaks his polite, courteous tone, replacing it with your angered voice. “You’re talking to a prisoner; don’t dare put me on the same pedestal you place yourself upon.” His face must be miffed, with how sudden you’re already bucking against him. Metaphorically, of course; you don’t swing that way.

“Rather... Brash, considering how I merely came to argue on your behalf.” Another ear twitch, although it’s in surprise, rather than in acknowledgement of sound. “Celestia seems to believe that you’re... A lost cause. I, on the other hand, share the opinion of her personal student; your case is a pitiful one, but not lost.” The prim voice continues, as if he actually knew anything about you.

“Who are you, to judge me? What do you know?” You begin to twist around, stepping off the metal heap. His coat is black, which is rather ironic with how pessimistic your own attitude is, and your eyes meet. “If you’re some sort of defender of the fallen, then leave. I can defend myself without some fancy, know-it-all who thinks he has any idea of what I’ve been through...”

He seems calm, collected... He looks up at Celestia, who kindly looks down upon him. “Would you excuse me, princess? I don’t believe I’m wanted here any longer.” She nods, and he responds with a curt bow, before beginning to trot away. Your eyes follow him, expecting to see him vanish out of your field of view before he halts, and turns his head, looking back at Celestia.

“Shall I tell your student she will no longer be needed?” So polite, only to tell her that she was useless, without even having the nerve to address her... “She is within earshot; I shall tell her if, and when, she is no longer needed.” Her soothing voice has a hint of malice in your ears; he nods, before his hoofsteps resume, the resounding echoes making your ears jerk with each sound. Meanwhile, Celestia simply stares, a stare filled with a mix of hatred and superiority; you return it to her.

Eventually, there’s a now familiar, creaking echo; he was gone. “Have you come to end my sentence?” Your voice is detached, without any semblance of sincerity or compassion. Her nose rises, akin to how the Canterlot high-class speaks when they truly wanted somepony to know how much more they were worth.

“No. I came here, my little pony,” She began, false sincerity and mediocrity dripping from that manually honeyed voice of hers. “To give you one final chance to repent for the error of your ways, to admit you are wrong, both in-“

You cut her off with a long, drawn out laugh, that reverbs off the walls and around your cell; she simply stares at you, perhaps confused, perhaps preparing a speech, but you don’t really care. A solid minute passes before you begin to slow down, the echoes becoming less and less frequent; with a final, gasping breath, the surroundings fall silent again, before you break it with a few quick words. “Don’t make me laugh.”

For a few seconds, Celestia seems to collect her thoughts; only her multicolored mane moves, swaying to an imaginary spring breeze. “Why must you be so troubling? All I ask is a simply apology, an admittance of guilt, and I shall make sure to reform you...” Your stomach chimes in, momentarily eclipsing her sound, before she continues her ridiculous offer. “Of course, you will be supplied with basic sustenance; food, a warm bed... I do need a new scribe, after all.”

You can’t help but twitch with rage; how low would she sink? How quickly had she tossed you in here to die, only to offer you a saving grace, if only to betray everything she vowed to stand for? Worthless promises, which she expects you to take because it’s your only way out... “Do you think you’re the mastermind behind this game, Celestia?” You take a few steps towards her, your neck craning to look her in the eyes. “Do you think you own my destiny, Celestia? You don’t.” You punctuate the thought by striking your hoof against the iron bars; it hurt, but it felt good, it made you feel alive and in power. Celestia took a step back, carefully preparing her reaction; this was a battle you weren’t going to lose.

“I never said such a thing; you put words in my mouth.” Another sharp clang takes her off guard, and she takes another step back, but she isn’t fearful; she knows you can’t reach through the bars. “If you’re doing anything but an execution, I don’t have any more time to listen to your dribble. I won’t kneel to you, Celestia; you’ll have to kill me for it.” Your eyes meet again, dueling with practiced expertise and pure hatred.

She begins to turn, closing her eyes while reflecting on your condition. “Do you see why some ponies cannot be helped, my student? They simply do not care about anypony else.” You can feel her student nod solemnly, bested by her mentor using pretenses. She begins to walk away, slowly, allowing you to bask in, according to her, a luxurious defeat.

“There’s one filly I care about.” The hoofsteps cease, although Celestia doesn’t turn around; you weren’t addressing her, in any case. You turn around, facing the stony walls of your prison, before continuing. “You could never understand; all you care about is your pitiful throne... You’ve never had it.” Your rage is subsiding as that filly fills your thoughts; it’s the only thing you know of that pacifies you. “I’d give my life for hers; which is why I never want to see her again.”

You can’t see the pensive look on her face, but you suppose that you probably have her stumped, or at the very least, confused. “Oh? There may be hope for you yet. Would you tell me about her? I would prefer that much more than your unfounded insults.” It was a command, but she was strangely sincere; faked, obviously. You turn around, seeing her gaze through the bars, that same false look of serenity upon her face. You remain speechless, moving to back to your perch, eyes locking onto the wall parallel to the bars once again.

“You’d just send her here if you could find her, solely to torture me. I’ve got no reason help you in that.” You close your eyes, voice detached; you can hear her reply, but you don’t answer. There’s no more reason to. You’re not sure how long they remain, nor how long you end up sleeping for a few precious seconds of oblivious delight, but eventually, you can hear them trotting away, hushed whispers in tow, before the creaking of the dungeon door finally breaks the flow of sound. Hopefully you’ll be left to rot like this dungeon; there’s no point in anything else now. Celestia’s speech was nothing but a tirade, which left you more than a little disappointed.

You can’t tell the passage of time, but your body felt stiff, your eyes felt rested, but dry; it had probably been a relatively calm night. If it wasn’t for the dry mouth, shrinking stomach and lack of heat, it wouldn’t have been a terribly bad night; even then, it was the first nearly full night of sleep that wasn’t fragmented beyond belief. Your chest is shaking with each intake of air; your throat was incredibly dry, although it seemed Celestia was respecting your wishes. Death would come, however slow it was, and she didn’t seem to be preventing it.

The creaking door dashes your hopes; she couldn’t possibly be returning, could she? Unless... She couldn’t force you to live, could she? No, that’s a silly proposition, but your brain isn’t in a state to strike it out as folly; your nerves are wracked, and you don’t look behind you. She’s trotting slowly, carefully, probably savoring your panic. You just stare at that wall, even after the sounds cease from right behind you; if she’s expecting a reaction, she won’t get it.

The silence lasts for quite some time, but you’re sure she’s still there; after all, not a sound has been made. “Um... Hello?” Her voice is unfamiliar, but it’s clearly a mare; she doesn’t sound menacing... You don’t let your guard down; while that voice is strangely familiar, it’s probably an act.

“I’ve been asked to die alone. Maybe you could respect that?” Pure venom drips from your words; you hear a sharp intake of breath, perhaps out of surprise, before her reply comes through. “I just wanted to talk, if that’s okay...” She... Sounds sincere. It’s not a certainty, but at least she’s treating you like an equal, no commands or condescendence in her voice... You suppose it’s alright to see where this goes.

“What do you want?” It’s blunt, to the point; your voice is hoarse, worn down by the elements of your entrapment. There’s a small sound, indescribable sound; almost like... Shifting? There’s a sustained shimmering sound, before a foreign cylinder is floating before you, a purple aura surrounding it. You gaze into it, a clear, reflective liquid mimicking your face. Water?

You can’t help yourself; you grab the thing between two hoofs, breaking the magical grip that was on it, before tilting your head skyward. You bring it to your lips, moving it to match your muzzle; even swallowing as quickly as you can, there’s still a fair bit of it which escapes, dripping down your muzzle and neck, which ends up refreshing the bloody stain on your chest. Taking a few gasping breaths, your breathing slowly recovers; it didn’t taste like poison. A shame, really; you thought perhaps she would take your best interests into consideration.

“You’re welcome.” She chimes into your thought process, but it doesn’t sound like she’s mad or expectant. “Thanks...” You trail off, the words awkwardly rolling off your tongue; you’d heard it said, but you’d never said it before. Still, you can’t help but hate yourself for it; you wanted to perish here, not live to regret everything. There’s that rummaging sound again, and then that familiar shimmer of levitation; just like the last time, something appears in another lavender, magical grip. Bread?

Your hooves move on their own accord again, grabbing the roundish piece of bread, bringing it to your mouth, which tears into it; audibly, you chew, ripping the bread into pieces that you hastily swallow. It only lasts a few precious seconds, but the taste of anything edible would’ve been the same; you don’t make the mistake of being rude this time. “Thanks.” It’s still a tad dejected, with your self-esteem and willpower taking large hits; you can’t resist your natural desires any more than anypony else, apparently...

“I hope you’re feeling better after that.” She still sounds legitimately concerned, but you still can’t place that voice. “I was hoping you could talk to me about that filly... I was here with Celestia and-“

“You’re her student? So you’re just acting on her behalf?” You angrily cut her off; you let yourself get deceived to easily, she was nothing but a liar. “Not exactly... I-I still think that you’ve just been mistreated your whole life and, well, since my studies involve ponies like you I was hoping you’d be... Willing to be a sort of...” She fumbles over her words, barely mumbling the last part. “Test subject.”

“You take after your mentor nicely... Abusing a fallen pony for your own selfish, perso-“ To your surprise, she cuts you off, the shout echoing around you. “No! I would never do that!” There’s a plink sound while she speaks; if she’s crying, you don’t look behind you to check. “I thought I could help you. I... Your life sounds like it’s been really bad, and you don’t sound like you’re living for much. I want to help.”

“That’s more than I can say about your precious mentor... But you’re wasting time. There’s only one pony I want to see, and I don’t want to hurl myself on her. She’s a stranger.” You close your eyes, a recollection of memories passing by; she was only a filly, but hope was always what kept you going, no matter how unrealistic it was.

“Would you tell me about her?” Her tone is cautious, but there’s a hint of curiosity behind it. You chew your lip lightly, torn between helping her and pushing her away; she’s probably here for her mentor, even if she denies it, but she did sustain you, even if it was against your will. She isn’t pushing you around either, unlike Celestia; you couldn’t possibly trust her, could you? You’re tempted to look behind you and analyze those eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to. Well, whether she’s the mastermind or you are, it’s a gamble you’ll have to take; after all, there’s nothing left to lose.

“I don’t know much about her. Not personally, at least.” You take a deep breath, your voice shaking a little; social skills were not your talent, much less speaking about personal matters, especially those which you’ve kept locked away for so long. Your hooves are shaking, nervousness filling your entire being. “She was always... Alone. So innocent and pretty, but alone. Unless you counted her books.” Tears started to flow; why were you crying? You shouldn’t care. It doesn’t make sense.

“I always got pushed around by the colts... They’d always say I was silly for liking her, that she was different, but I still did.” A tear drops. “She never knew I existed. I... I tried talking to her once; I asked her to meet me. She said okay, and my heart soared... She never came.” A soft whimper escapes your throat. You can’t hold it back. You’re breaking down.

“I never got to know her. She never knew I was there. I’ve never stopped thinking about her.” Another whimper escapes, a little louder this time. “Maybe I deserved to know her once. Maybe she wanted to know me. Maybe there could’ve been something.” Your cheeks are wet, drenched by pitiful, worthless tears.

“But why don’t you want her here?” Her voice slices through your rambling. “I don’t deserve her. She shouldn’t have to see me like this.” You sniffle. “If she never sees me again, I’ve always got that small, small hope that she might miss me. If she looks at me, I’m sure that she could never... love... this...” You look at your chest, your tears rewetting the dried blood. The tears don’t stop falling; you’re not even sure where they come from, with how dehydrated you must have been.

“How do you know that?” Her voice was filled with pity, a false concern for your life... “How do you know she’d toss you away?” Your eyes are filled with tears; you can barely see, but you slowly descend before turning to face her. You can’t even see her color, with how blurry everything is. There’s an audible gasp, hers, before you cut off any comments. “She doesn’t need to see... this.” You touch the partially wet patch on your chest. “She doesn’t need the burden of seeing me. I don’t deserve to see her.” You’re choking on guilt, a mixed flurry of self-hate and sorrow flowing through you.

You turn around, hiding the stain from her view, and position yourself next to the wall, opposite of where you were originally. “You must think I’m a monster... I don’t blame you.” You shut your eyes, the tears flooding past them. “If she was here, I’m sure she would...” Your head smashes itself against the wall, and you can hear Celestia’s student whimper.

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” Her voice is soothing, like her mentor, but you don’t detect any malice; it has to be there somewhere. “It sounds like you really care about her. That’s not evil.” There’s another plink from behind you, probably another tear drop; despite the echo, you can barely hear it. “More than you know... More than you could ever know.” You mumble it, but you have a feeling she heard you clearly.

“Did you even know her name?” She almost whispered that one, scared of your reaction, probably. That fit of rage earlier against Celestia probably startled her, made her wary of you. Your hooves wrap around yourself, clutching desperately at your body. It pained you to think, but for some reason you couldn’t stop. “Twilight Sparkle...” It was nothing but a hushed whisper, but the utter silence afterwards made it ring in your ears.

“Her name was Twilight Sparkle...” Your voice cracks, wracked by bottled emotions. “She’s better off without me. So are you... I don’t deserve to see her... Just leave...” There’s a clink, but you can’t make out what it is. You grip yourself tighter, a fit of sobbing jolts through your body. Time seems to pass so slowly, each sob lasting what seems like an eternity. Something ends up shocking you out of your desperate reverie; a hoof on your shoulder.

Your eyes are still flooded with tears, but you look to your side; this time, you can make out the color of her student’s coat. Purple... Just like her. Then the hoof moves, the whole forehoof itself wrapping around you, pulling you against a soft, warm body; a hug. It’s strangely soothing for a few moments, before your mind starts thinking; it’s pity. She didn’t come in here before you spilt your sorrow, and now she’s taking advantage of it.

You push her away, not hard enough to knock her down, but strong enough to disconnect her hoof. Your body shivers slightly, craving that desperate contact, but your mind hates it. “I don’t want your pity!” The cry breaks your fit of sobbing, the tears starting to slow; control is returning. Her voice is calm, but shaky, struggling to maintain stability. “I’m sorry...”

Your hoof starts wiping away the tears that blind you, giving her the best puzzled look you can manage before growling. “What do you have to be sorry for!?” She flinches, the sound louder than she must’ve expected with the echo. She takes a deep breath, her hooves lightly shaking. What reason does she have to be nervous for? “I’m... Twilight Sparkle.”

If there was a single, desolate strand of thread holding up your existence, that last statement had collapsed that singular, weak strand, and your entire being was crashing downwards, smashing into indistinguishable bits. Your breath dies in your throat, your eyes widening while your perception freezes; there’s just her standing there, staring at you with false empathy, while tears cloud her eyes.

You don’t speak, you can barely even breathe. The one pony who you always wanted, and yet never wanted to find you, because you knew she’d toss you away, was standing before you; maybe she would’ve wanted you before you were like this, before you were in a dungeon, thrown away carelessly by society... Now? Never. Even if she’s crying, tears spilling out of her beautiful, violet eyes, they can’t be for you, can they? “You shouldn’t cry, I’m not worth it.”

“Everypony’s worth something.” She takes an awkward step towards you, her eyes still streaked with tears. “Even you.” She continues, wrapping another forehoof around your neck, pulling you into a soft, lovely hug; you don’t have the willpower to push her away. It felt wrong on every level; she had to pity you, she had to think you were weak, she had to be using you for something, and yet your body craved touch; hers was wonderful.

You sniffle, the hateful, relaxing sensation washing over you; no matter how much you wanted to push her away, to tell her to leave, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. One of her hoofs rubs your back, a feeling you can only describe as soothing; it takes a while, but your breaths begin to steady. Being this close, you can smell her; you can’t make any comparisons, but the lovely scent only serves to relax you.

“Are you feeling better?” She whispers, backing away from you. You just look down, staring at her hooves. They don’t look like Celestia’s, or any other high-class pony, who generally wear some sort of regalia and have them manicured daily. Slowly, your eyes journey upwards, taking note of each small detail in her coat, in particular her chest, which is covered in crimson tears. Despite how badly you feel, you nod; you can’t deny how nice it felt, even if it was fake.

She smiles, not with a superior glint of success in her eyes, nor with a pitiful look; was it actually sincere? You nod slowly, and her smile seems to widen. “Everypony needs a shoulder to cry on sometimes.” She looks around your cell a little, her nerves probably a bit rattled, before continuing. “I know you didn’t want to be a, you know, test subject...” You cringe at those two words. “But I think it would help both of us. I don’t want to use you, but I already asked Princess Celestia, and she accepted releasing you for you to assist me.” Her eyes turn to you again, focusing on your pupils, growing bright as she continues her explanation. “I study magic, and part of my studies revolves around friendship and harmony. I know you’ve probably never had much of either...” She bites her lips, probably scolding herself inside for such a blunt phrase. “Which is why I’d like to have you help with my research.”

You don’t interrupt her, allowing each word to sink in while you gauge each possibility; you could languish here, giving yourself no chance of redemption, or you could roll the die once again, even if your frail heart will break, which seems like the better option. Of course she could just be using you for some terrible experiment, but even if she does, you’d have a better chance of escaping from a single unicorn than the entire Canterlot guard. You take a deep breath, summoning up whatever fragmented remnants of courage you have left, before you give your answer.

“I’ll do it...” That small, quiet acceptance is enough to make Twilight giddy with glee, her hooves tapping against the stone floor rapidly. Her face is enough to make you smile, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through you; it still feels alien, like it doesn’t truly belong, but you can’t deny how good it feels.

“Thank you so much!” She waved a hoof, signaling for you to follow, and she began walking out of your unlocked cell; that was probably what you heard before. You take the small opportunity to sneak a peek at her flank; in the very likely event that you end up back here, a more accurate fantasy couldn’t hurt. Her saddlebags sway lightly as she walks, although you’re not sure if anything else is in them, as you imagine that rummaging noise was her searching through them.

“I really do appreciate this.” Assuming that she’s not two-faced, her voice couldn’t be more sincere. “I just don’t want you to think I’m using you only for my studies; I really do think you’ve gone through a lot you didn’t deserve,” You can detect a hint of sadness in her voice before she continues. “But we can discuss that on the train or when we get to Ponyville. Oh, before I forget, I know it’s a little awkward with that whole, um, scene back there, but...” You think you can see a blush form on her cheeks, but you’re not in an adequate position to see it. “What was your name?”

“Calligraphy.” She turns her head back, smiling warmly. “Do you write a lot? It just sounds like you’d be good at it.” You awkwardly chuckle, a hoof scratching the back of your neck. “Not really...” She raises a brow, confusion spreading over her face. “But you have a quill as a cutie mark, shouldn’t you be good at writing?” She takes her first step onto the stairs; the trip seemed surprisingly short, but chances are that’s because you have a beautiful unicorn talking to you, treating you like something other than trash for once.

“I’m not good at writing, I just make the words look better. Nopony wants that.” The glow of the torches illuminate the solemn features of your face as you speak. “I’m sure there’s a lot of ponies who’d love high-quality writing; it’s just a shame you can’t show me. Those shackles are enchanted to prevent magic casting.” She sighs, probably disappointed; fortunately, you can remedy that. “I can’t use magic, so I guess you can see me write soon.” You smile, but it doesn’t have the desired effect on Twilight; she stops, turning around with a shocked expression covering her face, eyes wide.

“You can’t use magic at all?” Her voice is bordering on worried, almost breaking the threshold; you shake your head, confused by her reaction. “Never been able to. It doesn’t really bother me.” You continue past her, the fresh air of the palace becoming more pronounced with each step. You can hear her hoofsteps resume behind you, but otherwise the silence continues; you probably messed up there, but it wasn’t as if magic was required for you. Magic has that annoying, shimmering aura that gives you away; thievery has no use for it, especially if they know how to function without magic in the first place.

The rest of the ascent was eerily silent, and unfortunately, seemed to take longer than your earlier descent; Twilight had taken the lead again, most likely to ensure you weren’t mauled by any guards the second you left the dungeon. That would’ve been rather painful, if almost desirable; you weren’t ruling out an execution yet. That being said, it would be rude to mislead her, since you had agreed to assist her, after all; no matter how much you were regretting it, if only because of how you knew she’d feel by the end of it. She must think you write for a living, and once she figures out that you steal, that’s going to be one storm that will scatter the shattered bits of your soul far away; you’re in no hurry to let such a thing happen, but you know you can’t lie. Unless she’s lying, but you can’t help but feel she isn’t; it wouldn’t be right to lie to her.

The old, creaky door opens up once more, probably for the last time; at least your inner monologue helped pass the time, but it doesn’t do much else. Twilight greets the guards, and despite her reasons being legitimate, they can’t help but glance angrily at you, although you’re sure none of them would contest the decision; that would require going against the permission Celestia had given her student, and thus going against her. They didn’t have the guts.

The throne room is deserted, strangely, and the room seems rather dark; the first opportunity you get to gaze out a window reveals why. It was night, although you’re not sure how many days, if any, you’ve been inside this place, nor of what time it is. “Twilight.” She tilts her head towards you, but doesn’t cease trotting. “How long have I been imprisoned?” You meant for it to be something other than a worried whisper, but that doesn’t happen; in the dead silence, however, she can clearly hear you.

“About a day and a half; Celestia came to see you the night she sent you to the dungeon, and it took me all day to convince her to let me take you to Ponyville with me.” Her voice is a little sad, but she continues on a more explanative tone. “It’s still pretty early in the morning, so I’ll just take you to my room and wash you up before we head to the train.” Well, that explains why you’re moving away from what you remember to be the gates to the palace, and towards the rather large spirals in the distance.

The rest of your time in the palace was relatively boring; Twilight needed to get cleaned up, not to mention pack a few of the belongings she had brought. There’s also the matter that you were fiddling around with the shower for a while. It had been so long since you’ve had access to civilized contraptions that remembering how to use them was difficult; you didn’t end up needing any help this time, but it’s discouraging. You weren’t built for this kind of life, you didn’t know about it enough to be happy; the only thing keeping you here is that mare outside the bathroom, willing to put herself at odds with her mentor for you.

Although you get cleaned up relatively quickly, since she’s still finishing her packing, you must admit it feels wonderful; being relatively free of filth is a pleasure that you haven’t felt in years. You suppose that she’s to thank for that, since she’s been nothing but kind to you. It feels wonderful, but you can’t help but loathe yourself; you’re taking advantage of her so far, but hopefully you can at least be useful for her at some point.

At least she’s ready to leave soon, but this time, she breaks the early morning tranquility during your walk. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why can’t you use magic? I’ve never heard of such a condition before.” You shrug; the thought had never really come to your mind before this, and honestly, it wasn’t a bother. “Beats me. Never really asked myself why, and I honestly don’t care.” She nods, remaining silent the rest of the way to the station; you’re probably a disappointment to her, since every unicorn who isn’t a foal can use magic. There’s always a worse case scenario, and like everything else, it had to be you who got stuck with it.

She continues to chat with you about mundane things, nothing terribly important to you, but you nonetheless listen to her every word; you owe her that much. She mostly talks about her friends, what they do, how she can’t wait to introduce you to them and where you’ll be staying. You’re sure that you’ll remember it all, if only because it’s such a break from your traditional method of thinking, but you can’t help but think how odd some of it is; you keep your thoughts to yourself, however, and merely listen to her. If there’s a single positive among this, it’s how you get to listen to her voice; she might be a bit nerdy at times, but it’s cute.

As you get to the train station, your conversation has unfortunately worn out. She gives the pony at the door of the train a few bits, enough for both of you to pass into the rather deserted train; apparently the morning trains were as silent and underpopulated as the streets of Canterlot before the sunrise. Twilight leads you to your small private room, probably paid for by Celestia herself, even if it wasn’t terribly fancy. There’s two beds, one on each side of the car, and a fair bit of room; probably built for an overnight train ride. She did say Ponyville was only a few hours by train, so it was probably going to head to another stop afterwards.

As soon as you get installed, Twilight turns over to you from her bed. “If you’re not too tired, would you care to go over what you’ll be helping me with?” You install yourself on the opposite bed, prepared for the worst, before giving a small nod.

“Fantastic! It’s fairly simple. Due to my studies in friendship, I’d like to see the effects of it on a pony who has no friends; it’d be cruel to force somepony to sever all their current friendships, and even then, they’d still remember them, which would foul up the data,” She’s positively thrilled; her research must really enthrall her. “But you’re different.” Her positive voice takes a bit of a hit, but she’s still rather enthusiastic. “Since it sounds like you’ve never experienced it, you’ll be perfect. I can analyze the effects on you, and you’ll make some wonderful friends, I’m sure of it! It’s a win-win situation for both of us.”

Her smile is contagious, and you can’t help yourself but grin a little; as much as you’d hate to say it, you’re looking a little forward to this. You doubt that you’re going to come out of this unscathed, since you’ll be nurturing a broken heart one way or another, but at least you’ll make her happy by doing it. You’re sure that sooner or later she’ll have to let you go, because she won’t have any other use for you; she probably doesn’t want to be known for being friends with a thief, let alone you. Even if she did like you, it’d be torturous to be around her when she has no interest in you, but that’s a burden you’ll have to bear.

After all, she’s more important than you; if she needs you, then you’ll be there, and if she doesn’t want you, you’ll go away. After her explanation, she started reading; you just watch her, and she doesn’t seem to notice you staring, or perhaps she assumed you’re looking at her book. You close your eyes every few seconds, as if you were a camera taking a picture, before you open them again and continue observing her; a picture of a beautiful, innocent unicorn who had the courage to rescue a complete stranger from a sorrow fate.

She’s so absorbed in her reading that she doesn’t notice you dozing off, or perhaps she does but doesn’t say anything to stop you. The last thought you have before drifting off is about Ponyville, and exactly what awaits you; one thing is for certain. It can’t be worse than rotting in a dungeon for the rest of your days, and you only have one pony to thank for avoiding that: Twilight Sparkle.

Of Night-mares and Nightmares (Clop)

Dreams were the sole bastion of pleasurable sensations you had ever had; reality was binding, unable to be molded to suit your fancy, but your mind was not the same. Sleep had always come in chunks, and so your dreams had always been fragmented visions; a glimpse here, an idea there, but nothing developed over the course of the small bits and pieces of rest you could secure. They were always filled with hope, situations you knew were an impossibility; in a way, they were your way to cope with everything life had tossed at you, every hit you had taken, every insult and hardship… Nowhere else was safe by any means, but your mind, especially dreams, were one such location.

This was the first elongated rest you had in a while; the first opportunity for a nice, vivid illusion that would rip you away from reality. Paradise was somewhere that always eluded you, but there was one exception; this wonderful false reality, which you would lose yourself in for a few fleeting minutes. This time, you hopefully had an hour or so, which was enough for a nice scenario…

The table was set, two candles were each illuminating a pony, both unicorns, in the otherwise dim room. The surrounding tables in whatever high class restaurant were too dark to be made out, but you didn’t care, since you were focused the most beautiful pony you had ever, or would ever, lay eyes upon: Twilight Sparkle.

While many would just see some egg-headed bookworm, you knew that there was so much more to her than what most would stop at; the way she’d smile, a warming smile you rarely ever saw on anypony but her, was one such thing. Her enthrallment with knowledge of all kinds made the small conversation over a meal difficult, but she had no qualms with explaining various matters to you, and you certainly didn’t mind listening to her soothing voice.

Her dress was a striking mélange of various shades of purple fabric that hugged her form tightly, although you could barely see the lower portions from across the table, but you imagine they were just as form fitting as what grasped her barrel. If they differed, and instead flowed loosely around her flank, it didn’t really matter to you; it simply meant the task of disrobing her later on would be a tad different, and nothing that you wouldn’t enjoy either way.

The meal was a single course, but that was all you knew about it; Twilight had ordered it for you, and you weren’t about to go against her recommendation, since you had a lack of knowledge when it came to civilized and refined subjects. You weren’t too interested in the food anyways; this was time for you and Twilight, rather than time to indulge in other pleasures that simply paled in comparison to her divinity. It would be rude to pay more attention to the food than her, even if you were starving, figuratively of course; it would be well worth it later on, anyways.

As you both ate, conversation slowed, but never fully ceased between the two of you; Twilight never had too many ponies to talk about her research with, and despite your stupidity, you seemed to make a decent partner for her to chat with, which was enough for you to be content. If she was happy, then you were positively beaming, and you don’t think that smile plastered over her face meant she was anything but joyful. She actually seemed to enjoy your questions, however silly they were, since you weren’t just asking for the sake of asking; one day, maybe you could have a conversation without needing an explanation for every term, theory or word, but for now, it was enjoyable to simply absorb what you could from the speeches.

Eventually, the two plates were devoid of food, and with a payment of bits you were both off into the brisk night air. One of Twilight’s hooves wrapped itself around yours with a soft blush on her cheeks, and you were glad to squeeze her hoof gently, smiling at that adorable face. She seemed so innocent, so pure, so lovely… She simply radiated everything you had ever wanted in a filly. You pull her a little closer to you as she leans into your neck, her cheek rubbing against it in a way that’s so gentle and timid, yet filled with meaning; you hear her sigh pleasurably at the contact, your heart beating faster at the small, insignificant sound, which made the world for you.

As you traveled the streets her dress would brush up against you, sometimes an errant touch that merely faded away, but at others it was a deliberate, shy movement that excited you, and you gave a touch back in turn, a little more gently with your more muscular body. She smiled each time you did, eyes looking away while her blush intensified a little; a low chuckle escaped your throat at the cute sight, although it was short lived: Twilight’s library was just in front of you, a definite end to your journey.

Fate had an obvious, if welcome, way of keeping you two entangled; storm clouds circled above, releasing a few drops of their precious cargo, which quickly turned into a torrential bombing just as Twilight had opened her door. “The weather pegasi have a thunderstorm set to pour overnight; you should stay here, at least until the morning.” You couldn’t help but beam and accept her gracious offer, silently thanking destiny for her beneficial hoof in your affairs.

You were a tad wet, unlike your companion’s dress, which was pristine and glorious in wonderful, dry fabric that would make any mare jealous with how skillfully it was stitched by somepony worthy of praise, but it simply didn’t compare to how she wore it. Talent could always be acquired, but natural beauty was something that was only obtained by luck; unlike others who were blessed by chance, she hadn’t abused it, and instead lived in a state of partial recluse, with only a few friends by her side, none of which gave her the admiration she deserved…

You would change that. This was going to be the night you would go all the way with her; she had prepared for the storm in advance, her fireplace was already ablaze and warming the spacious living room, while you were drying off in the entryway. Two pillows had been laid out, perhaps in advance, one of which was claimed by a much less clothed Twilight, her dress now removed; however, four lovely, amethyst colored socks remained on her. She wasted no time in beckoning you over, likewise, you wasted no time waiting, a quick trot bringing you next to her before you took a seat, the pillow sinking slightly as you took place upon it.

Instantly, Twilight cuddled herself up against you, her warm body heat much more comforting than the small fire crackling a few feet in front of you. You wrapped a hoof around her neck, pulling her closer while she looked at you with those shining, violet eyes, her muzzling drifting ever closer to yours while your cheeks reddened, and you turned away; no matter how much you wanted this, your nervous, throbbing heart was getting in the way. Before you had a chance to pull away any further, or start crying in a loathing, pitiful manner, a soft hoof brushed itself across your cheek, forcing you to look back at the mare who that hoof belonged to.

Another hoof placed itself upon your other cheek, the soft sock rubbing comfortingly against your bare mane, brushing it out of the way. “I’m nervous too, it’s okay... I’ve never kissed a pony before either.” Her melodic voice chimes in your ear, making it twitch in the most satisfied way, before she locks eyes with you and continues. “It’ll be nice, I’m sure of it, just give it a chance... We have to experiment to learn.” You shiver as she punctuates the end of her sentence by quickly pecking you on the lips; the contact was brief, not even a second, before she recoils, an innocent blush on her face. You can’t help but smile, a similar reddish shade spreading over your face as one of your hoofs wraps around her shoulder, steadying both of you, before you lean in just as she follows suit, her eyes closed in blissful expectation.

The second of empty air before contact with her seemed to last an eternity during which you lived a plethora of emotions: fear, anticipation, nervousness, lust... None of them adequately prepared you for the euphoric taste of her lips, slightly mixed with the single meal she had consumed, although it was as if the artificial flavor of lingering food only served to enhance the taste of her lips, rather than obscure it behind a veil of spices that were all too strong, and ended up overshadowing her natural self. While you were only offered a sample of the delicacies with her mouth shut, tongue reposing behind her luscious lips, it was enough to draw a soft, delicate moan from your throat, vibrating throughout your muzzle and into hers.

As you licked over her lips hungrily, she spurred herself into action, her mouth suddenly opening as her organ melded itself with yours, simultaneous, soft moans of approval escaping each of you, melding into a symphonic delight for your ears. It wasn’t long before labored breaths were taken around your dancing muscles, electric thrills escalating throughout the sensitive appendages before slowly, reluctantly, you both began to retreat, her heated breath washing over you with each intake of air, warm from both the fire and your now excited bodies.

For a moment, it appeared as if she was displeased, eyes closed as if thinking intently on how to shatter the bad news; however, that fear inside you was dashed when opened them, a loving, lustful look exposing itself to you. The warm flush on your cheeks intensified as she moved, flipping herself onto her back before she grabbed your forehooves with her own, gently tugging at you to move forward, only ceasing when you were muzzle to muzzle with her. She smiled at you, pressing her lips against yours passionately, her tongue swiping over them a few times, begging for entry, until you joyfully gave it to her and renewed your intertwining dance.

The sensations increased with each passing second, but they felt so much more authentic with you on top of her, squirming minutely with each pass of your tongue over hers or with each soft press of your eager hooves against her supple body. They roamed around, gripping her shoulders at first, until they traveled down her lithe midsection, finally reaching her flank a few moments later. She groaned softly when you brushed over her cutie mark: the emblazoned star was clearly sensitive. You barely broke the kiss for a second, whispering huskily. “I’m going to have such fun with that flank of yours...”

She squeaked when you suddenly pressed on each pattern hard, which left her mouth wide open for you to resume your oral caresses; the result was a writhing Twilight who wrapped her hooves around your back, pulling you in closer to her. Her motions ended up brushing your fully erect stallionhood against her, a quick jolt backwards severing your mouths. She grinned, moving her marehood closer to rub against your shaft as she whispered breathily into your ear. “Somepony looks like they’re excited...” You nodded, at a loss for words from the unexpected grinding while she simply giggled, her rear hooves wrapping themselves around your flank in order to facilitate the erotic administrations.

You bit down on your lip, gazing at her needy eyes as she continued to rub herself over your length, the wet lower pair of lips slickening it in preparation for inevitable entry at some point. Her lustful moans were mixed with provocative whispers in your ear, unwavering in the undulating movement of her hips below yours, kissing your intimate rod. “I want you to ride me, Calligraphy... You’re my first, you know? I’ll be so tight for you, and only you...” You couldn’t help but groan as she hugged you with each of her limbs, pushing herself against your body, particularly your cock, sandwiching it between her folds without allowing you to enter her.

Suddenly she dropped, her back hooves releasing their grip with a soft whimper escaping from you, her warm, sheltering lips no longer shielding your shaft from the air, which felt so cold for some reason; you could guess why. Her gaze was seductive, her eyes flashing downward midway through her stare, drawing your sight between your legs; she was widespread, hooves quivering slightly in either huge anticipation or minute fear. Her head rested on the pillow, horn glowing a soft, lavender shade in order to float a few more of the soft, multicolored pillows over to rest around both of you.

“Take me, Calligraphy…” Her voice was a soft whisper, bordering on needy, but not quite as sultry as you’d expect; your cock was twitching in eager anticipation, but you took a moment to kiss her lips as passionately as you could manage, your tongues meeting for a few fleeting moments in a quickly broken embrace. Slowly, she turned herself around, resting on her belly against the pillows; her tail was hiked high above her flank, already brushing tentatively against your stallionhood.

Slowly, her rump raised while your hips lowered, meeting in the middle, coaxing out a soft moan from the mare underneath you; she shuddered softly, your rod sliding between her folds in a botched, yet highly pleasurable, attempt at entering her. Each delicate twitch of your shaft pushed you more awkwardly against her folds, unable to gain entry despite the ample lubrication; in an attempt to at least show some sort of skillful initiative, your muzzle finds the back of her ear, gently nuzzling into it while giving tender nips at the sensitive flesh. Her ear flicked against your teeth, but the results were pleasurable, soft gasps and moans pouring out of her mouth while you still fumbled with her rear incompetently.

After a few more attempts at entry, your tip finally made contact with her lips, her plush folds spreading around you. Twilight groaned while you pushed deeper, ever so gently, her eager walls coaxing out soft moans from you. She was tight, a vice-like grip surrounding your rod as it treaded further into her cavern; your breath came out in large, husky pants, the feeling of her velvety walls driving your lustful entry forward. Soon enough, your cock hit a soft barrier, which did not break, but the gentle impact drew out an equally soft whimper from the mare beneath you.

“Be gentle, please...” Her voice was quivering while you pressed against her hymen, the minuscule wall of flesh blocking your advance not by sturdiness or force, but by simple fear on your part. This would hurt her, you were sure, but that wasn’t your main concern; the more pressing matter was that her innocence would be removed, forever, and your vile presence would taint her perfection. The very thought of it made you shiver, a movement Twilight was quick to suppress with a brush of her front hoof against yours, stroking it reassuringly. Her feelings went unspoken, but not unfelt: she wanted this as much as you. You weren’t going to go against her wishes, and so you steadied yourself, preparing to demolish her thin wall, claiming her as yours for eternity while she would adopt you as hers.

A quick shove of your hips was all it took for her sanctuary to crumble, her defiled marehood releasing a few trickles of red liquid that mixed with her natural juices, while she begun to cry, painful whimpers and deep, controlled breaths escaping her lips. Despite the constraining motions of her marehood around your cock, you think of how to reassure her for a few precious moments; if it hurt her, why not give her something pleasurable and distracting to ease away the pain? Unicorn horns were sensitive, after all; all you had to do was lean forward a little more, extend your tongue and let it touch the smooth surface of her horn...

Her horn had a distinctly arousing taste, delectable enough to make your crave more; as a result, your tongue began to swirl itself around the tasty rod, exposing more of your taste-buds to the wonderful flavor. Twilight had begun to shudder softly, the feeling of her sensitive, virgin horn being licked easily overtaking the painful sensation from her contracting marehood; the walls almost seemed to squeeze your member harder, while your own set of lips moved to wrap around the tip of her phallus-like horn, your tongue danced towards the base, more waves of carnal pleasure wracking the body beneath you. A soft, drawn out moan rang pleasantly to your ears, before Twilight suddenly pushed her flank backwards, hard, fully engulfing your shaft in her writhing depths and forcing a loud moan from your mouth, which made you hum softly around her horn, the vibrations causing Twilight to nearly collapse in euphoria, her legs wavering with the constant barrage of new, highly addicting sensations.

Now that you were completely hilted within her, you had to, reluctantly, pull out of her warm, welcoming folds, so you could properly ravage her body . You began to pull your hips back, the slick, pink walls grinding against your stallionhood, attempting to suck it back into their depths in order to fill their lustful desires; Twilight whined as you did so, trying to garner a few more shreds of ecstasy by tilting her head back, forcing her horn farther back until your lips were firmly suckling on the base, and your tongue ventured around to fully explore the ridged surface. Your eyes closed, savoring her, and your back legs braced themselves for their first thrust, making sure to slowly spread her tunnel apart, which sucked at your rod delightfully, drawing out more moans and groans from your lips, that echoed down Twilight’s horn to her very core.

It had to be wonderful for her, if her body’s passive reaction was any indication; she was dribbling juices onto your cock, slickening it further for her inevitable pounding, while her horn buzzed lightly, weak bursts of raw magic escaping every few moments, only for your tongue to swipe over them, tasting the pure, almost indescribable substance. Likewise, her conscious displayed an equal enjoyment, an unending flurry of small, soft, nearly surreal sounds of approval escaping her mouth, encouraging you to stop teasing and begin the main event. Not one to try and deliberately disappoint her, you begin pushing, slowly, into her cavern as it gleefully spreads to accommodate your length, before it repeats the process of squeezing around your member. Whether Twilight was focusing on her nether muscles or not, they felt fabulous around you, and soon enough, you had hilted again, this time choosing to pull out much sooner, languishing little in your efforts as you retreated, until solely the tip of your phallus remained inside her.

Once again, you braced yourself, this time for a much more elongated ride; picking up the pace, you slammed yourself against her, the impact jolting her form forward a little, as it seemed to shunt a deep moan up from her depths, escaping solely due to the rough thrust. Leaving little time for her to recover, you quickly pulled out, the walls clinging around your rod with absolute need; they need not wait for long, as you were already engulfed once again, your mouth slightly agape, taking long, deep breaths, while a few slick strands of saliva dripping down her horn and pooling around the base. Your tongue still attempted to crawl around every inch of her sensitive ridged surface, as the occasional drips of magic had turned into a veritable waterfall, consistently flowing to fill your mouth, and then some, a bit of the mist-like substance flowing out between your lips.

Her lower pair of lips, on the other hoof, were pouring a torrential downpour of her sweet, sticky juices down your shaft and onto your two orbs, brimming with a large load of your virile semen that stirred inside with each push. As your thrusts began to pick up speed, your engorged testicles started swinging, lightly touching Twilight’s delicate, drenched fur. In a few seconds of speed building, your cock was able to retract, and then fill, her every second, your balls slamming delightfully against her at every forward movement of your hips, the fluid inside jostling around, eager to spill itself inside the mare of your dreams. Her hard, spiraled magic conductor had begun to glow, illuminating your tingling cheeks and tongue with a light lavender glow, the unique taste of her magical essence amplifying itself with each passing moment; the mist itself seemed to thicken, more like a soup, every ounce of pleasure contributing to the continued generation of more raw magic, as it continued to trickle out of your open mouth.

As much as you wanted to keep going, preferably the entire night with a myriad of different positions and a plethora of orgasms for her before your creamy load would tarnish her, truly marking her as your own, your phallus had a different plan; the occasional twitch of bliss had evolved into a consistent spasm, threatening to blow your load with every errant movement of your enveloped length. Each deep intake of breath around her horn drew copious amounts of mystic mist inside your lungs, a warm, loving sensation dispersing inside you, spreading from your barrel downward, as far as your hooves, but it concentrated the bulk of the heat in one very fitting area: your groin. This feeling only made you want to attain the blissful feeling of relief even more, and it was multiplied by Twilight’s inner walls, already attempting to milk you for all you were worth before their first orgasmic burst; hopefully, she was also close, and judging by the soft vibration of her magical cone inside your mouth, along with each long, gasping breath she took, she was on the border of tonight’s conclusion.

Twilight began to shiver, an inevitable sign of her impending gush of liquid pleasure, and you took that as a sign to withhold your release, if only for a few moments; she had to cum first, she was more important. Her horn had begun to fizzle, the mist concentrating and solidifying, despite your breaths consuming generous amounts of it; sparks of magic hit your inner mouth, the earlier tingling sensation becoming much more pronounced with each small, powerful touch of the primal substance. Her vaginal walls made use of the same sort of deceptive force, their earlier caresses seeming like the tentative touches of a virgin compared to the now carnal force they used in an attempt to coax out the orgasm that you were so desperately attempting to evade. With each deep thrust another groan was forced out of your lips, and they had to tell Twilight you were close, but you dared not vocalize the thought otherwise; you knew she was above you, and she knew that, even if she had been gracious enough to allow you to mount her. Your tongue swiped against her horn a few more times, the mildly shocking sensation all the more ecstatic for you; it managed to draw out a low gasp from Twilight, probably from a heightened sensitivity on the already taut inner nerves just beneath the smooth surface your tongue so desperately services, hoping it would accelerate her orgasm.

Her small, erratic twitches intensified for a few moments, her tunnel clenching around you much more fiercely, the direction of each inner movement running from the base of your shaft, before it moved upward, as if milking your sensitive organ in advance; in turn, she bit her upper pair of lips, whining and groaning in the most needy fashion she could. Unfortunately, no rush of wayward juices besides the norm came, and her vocal cords never came to a crashing crescendo; your guttural noises, on the other hoof, had grown louder, and your cock was drenching her inner sanctum in fluid: not yet the pure, white cum that would forever taint her, but you were incredibly close. A few more thrusts, and it would be over for you; perhaps not even that, based on your rapid rhythm and the amount of stimulation her slick, drenched marehood was providing. Your barrel heaved with quick, deep breaths, drawing in ever more of those sparks from her horn, spreading the sensation around your body even further.

An emasculated whine escaped your lips, stripped on every asset that made you a stallion; you weren’t going to be able to please your mare fully, already, you could feel your rod begin to spasm, your most precious essence beginning to prematurely gush upward, the seed eager, and ready, to fill Twilight’s most precious sanctuary. Your hooves wrapped themselves around her barrel unexpectedly, forcing her to support your larger frame, her own legs shaking from the effort required; with one final, pathetic groan, you hilted yourself in her for one final time that night, the flood of your hot, sticky cum rushing forth into her, electing a soft gasp from her unoccupied mouth, her body tensing as it prepared to accept your gift. Her milking motions redoubled their efforts, accelerating the already rapid speed of your semen flowing into her while your forehooves squeezed her tighter, restricting her flow of oxygen slightly. Your lips, following suit, sealed themselves around her horn, greedily sucking down every speck of magic Twilight produced; she gasped again, this time much more audibly, as her eyes closed, allowing her to bask in the duality of sensations: her lower self was being filled to the brim, a small amount of your ever continuous flow of cum dripping outside, while her upper self was being drained and emptied.

That same duality seemed to finally cause her to break, a sharp intake of air signaling her dam’s final collapse, the pure juices of her marehood coating your stallionhood and mixing with your vile semen inside, before it trickled downward, needlessly slickening your cock before it began to dribble around her lips. You continued to suck on her ever tingling horn, drawing out every last delectable drop of magic it had to offer, while she did the same with your cock, although you let not a single bit of it escape; she was simply unable to contain every spurt of white liquid, and it partially followed the path her own orgasmic juices had before, the two results of your orgasms melding into a heterogenic concoction, and in turn, it simply dripped onto the soft surface below you. Your stream had begun to slow, and Twilight’s eyes fluttered open, still minutely basking in the monumental feel of her first, hopefully wonderful, sexual encounter, the afterglow of her orgasm slowly fading as you began to dismount her, your forehooves touching the now damp pillows, while your vice-like grip on her horn released itself; your tongue ran over her horn one final time, coaxing out one last shudder from Twilight. The misty magic had also ceased to spawn from her horn, and with but a single swipe of your tongue on your lips, the taste was completely gone. Your now limp member, spent from your single, but highly enjoyable, orgasm plopped free from her with a wet sort of sound, along with a few more strands of both your combined fluids.

For a few precious moments, just the sound of two ponies breathing and the raindrops outside was heard; the fire had long since died down, but it hadn’t extinguished your love, nor your passion, for her, but the night grew late. Twilight yawned, starting to trot forward slowly, towards an open door near the mantle of the former flames. She turned around with half lidded eyes, her tail brushing itself aside to give you a very nice view of your handiwork; after staring for a few moments, she sighed, smiling, and called out to you. “I was hoping that, maybe, you’d come to bed with me…”. You didn’t need to be told twice, quickly galloping to her side, much to her delight, as she wrapped a hoof around yours, leaning into you slightly; you gladly supported her, as she had done with you, although you didn’t dare waver in the slightest. She deserved a stallion who wouldn’t falter, lumping his inadequacies and problems unto her, forcing her to support you; no, you had to be stalwart, sturdy, strong… everything a stallion should be: everything she deserved.

Her bedroom was illustriously decorated, tomes of magic and spellbinding books filling the large amount of bookcases, all of which she must have read and memorized; the curtains were plush, trimmed with golden borders, while her bed had the same qualities, although her star shaped mark had been emblazoned on the center of the blanket. It was fitting. Her nightstand had a few books, neatly arranged, with each one having a bookmark in various positions; given her standing, it must be stressful for her, with large amounts of reading, study, work and such to do on a daily basis. Smiling as graciously stepped onto the bed, you were simply glad that she deemed you worthy enough to please her; following suit, your hoof rubs over her cheek lovingly, in turn, she grips it, dragging it downward to her barrel and allowing you to feel her heartbeat. It was nearly as quick as your own! Blushing softly, she leaned closer, whispering into your ear. “That’s what you do to me.”. She giggled, in that adorable way only she could, further warming your soul and accelerating your pulse; you moved back a little, staring into her lovely eyes for mere seconds, before you pushed yourself forward, melding your lips together. The passion of earlier acts was not lost, but the carnal desire had been spent; this was romantic, not erotic, and your tongues barely touched, each of them solely delivering quick swipes to their tentative partner.

Carefully, you started to push her forward while maintaining the kiss, a hoof moving to caress her mane and prevent her from falling backwards; her hooves wrapped around your neck, forcing you to support her weight this time, but it was a welcome feeling. Her head hit the pillow softly, her coat a slightly darker shade of the fabric, as her form began to indent the bed; once she had settled in, you turned to your side, finally allowing the kiss to break when you laid down beside her. Your hooves wrapped around her tight, pulling her closer to you, while her horn shimmered slightly, momentarily illuminating the room much more clearly as she brought up the covers, entrapping your two forms beneath them. Her hooves moved themselves around you, returning the gripping hug, and you moved your head down to rub your horn against hers. Sighing blissfully at the friction on your sensitive horn, sleep is beginning to overtake you; already, it has consumed Twilight, her barely audible snores reaching your ears. Still cuddling with you, your eyes finally close before sleep, or perhaps the shock of awakening from this dream, occurs, a sudden flash of light and a strange, shifting sort of magical sound pierces your ears; with a jolt you close a hoof over…

“Twilight?”. Your hoof crashes against the bed, feeling around for a few moments, attempting to find fur or horn or any sign of her. Your eyes open worriedly, the room still relatively dark, but Twilight was nowhere to be seen. “Twilight?...” You call out again, this time louder, closer to a yell; the rain outside seems to have stopped, and the heavy silence is not broken by a reply to your outburst. You scramble to your hooves, eyes blazing across every inch of the room; she wasn’t there, with the door strangely shut: you didn’t remember either of you doing that. Cautiously, you begin to make your way over, hoof reaching for the knob; it quivers ominously just as you make contact, and you jolt backwards. It seemed… darker than before. Your suspicions are confirmed as the darkness seems to spread, engulfing the minute amount of light in shadow, erasing the door from existence completely, and it showed no signs of stopping. Turning around to look for an escape option, the same such aura is at the window, or what it used to be, and it too was spreading. Moving to the center of the room, you begin to panic, breaths accelerating as they continue to consume the very room about you; the bookshelves, the nightstand, the bed… everything.

It took so long for them to begin reaching you, the creeping surfaces having reduced what used to be a representation of Twilight’s very being to nothing: now, they were coming for you. Quivering, you close your eyes as it touches your hoof, expecting some sort of agony or a lack of feeling, but moments pass, and no such pain comes, while no absence of existence comes. One of your eyes opens, peeking at your hoof; it was white, as per usual, and you began to check your body for lack of limbs. You where whole, and a few prods of your form proved it. All around you was simply black, no sort of defined figures or shapes, simple darkness; you spin around, confirming the whole area as… nothing. Tears begin to flow from your eyes, worried for Twilight; she was gone, she had left you before this catastrophe, but you couldn’t help but shout for her as loud as you could, in the very unlikely chance she would come back.

“Twilight… Twilight!... Twilight, please! Don’t…” You brush a hoof against your face, trying to rub the tears from your eyes and clarify your watery vision, but all you succeed in doing is smearing the tears across your cheeks, before you finish your last few words, your throat suddenly going dry. “… leave me alone…” Choking at the thought of your greatest fear, having had everything you wanted, and then it literally vanish into nothing, you curl up, wrapping your hooves around your barrel and simply sobbing uncontrollably. You had never deserved her. You should be glad she’s gone, and you’re just alone with nothing; she’s better off without you. She’s more important, and even if it pains you, you’ll just stay here and weep; after all, she wouldn’t want anymore, not after seeing how pathetic you were.

Author's Note

So, if this reminds you of some sort of bad porno: good. It's supposed to be written with that sort of setting in mind, and more importantly, it's supposed to break some aspects of canon, personality wise, because it's a dream of a character who has relatively little current knowledge about Twilight as a pony, as in who she is and how she'd act. The inexperienced dreams of a character who's sole views on romance probably come from relatively questionable and unrealistic sources won't be accurate to canon, nor good for that matter, in terms of realistic romance, but still, it's clop.

Hopefully this is still clop-able, despite being written with some specific intentions that are hopefully met, but would arguable make the clop, well, not as good. That being said, there will be clop in the future, obviously, although it could take a while to get there, it will hopefully be worth the wait.

A Forging Foray for Friendship

Your body contorts in your sleep, worriedly moving the covers around you, enshrouding you in a misty veil of fabric; that strange state, between awareness of being awake, but still submerged in the distant, fake reality of a nightmare. “Twilight... don’t...” The soft mumble shatters the barrier imposing itself between the two worlds, with the purple unicorn just on the other side of the cart, but too absorbed in her reading to notice your disturbance. In a single, swift roll of your body, your mind severs itself from the realm of the ethereal, eyes snapping open with a gasp; instinctively, they dart around your surroundings, taking in everything they can, before they settle on the lavender unicorn, snout still deep in her book. She was there! A sigh of, blissful, relief, relinquishes itself from your lungs, and you allow your sweat covered body to relax, while a strange, rushing sensation...

Thump! Your body seemed to have been perched on the ledge of the bed, upholding itself through effort alone, which you stupidly cut in a hasty motion, even if it only served to reassure you. Twilight jumped slightly at the odd sound, slicing itself through the rhythmic wheels of the train; her gaze lowered to you, a slight look of concern on her face. “Are you okay? What happened?” With a tug on the constricting blankets, slowly unravelling them from your grounded form, you just murmur a quick, breathless reply.

“Nightmare. I’ll be fine.” After untangling the covers, it was easy enough to stand, although you were wearing the cloths around your barrel. Hoisting yourself back onto the bed, you just curl up, letting out another sigh; despite how real your dream felt, it was wrong, for now, at least. She was still there, and even if you weren’t looking at her, you could hear every time she’d flip a page; perhaps she was concerned, but she left you to your own affairs. Some demons were best left undisturbed, and some thoughts best left locked away, tucked into coffers with the key destroyed, and the lock itself damaged beyond repair. Maybe she knew that such thoughts were best kept to yourself, and so she chose not to pry any further into your affairs than she needed to for her research; that was perfectly fine by you, whether it be by necessity or concern.

Time passes slowly, marked only by the frequent flips of pages, and the steady clacking of the train. Your time is spent thinking of nothing, merely taking relief in the fact that Twilight was behind you, as evident by the sounds she produced; listening carefully, you could even hear the odd breath, further calming you down and assisting in passing the time. Eventually, the familiar sounds of the rails begins to slow, becoming inconsistent; shortly afterwards, the train slows to a halt, the bustling passengers trotting out of their various carriages. Twilight didn’t move, and so neither did you; perhaps she thought you had once again fallen asleep, and so you turn over, taking care not to fall once again, and lay your eyes upon her.

She simply continued to read, her horn lighting up every so often to change pages or readjust the book, Scientific Evidence Gathering: Avoiding Inconsistencies and Flawed Data; something beyond your comprehension, that was for certain. You could barely even read the title, but the book itself was rather large; a brick, of the literary variety, that you had no hopes of understanding, but you’re certain Twilight could easily wrap her mind around it. It was probably in preparation for your involvement, in any case.

The minutes eked on, dragging themselves onward; Twilight had made no attempt to leave, but somehow, you felt like the silence outside of the room indicated that the other passengers had, and the lack of noise also meant that no ponies were boarding. Carefully, you got out of the bed, much more gracefully than before, and took the step or two over to her, a hoof gently prodding her while you spoke. “Twilight?” She jumped slightly, ripping herself from her book in a fluid motion; she took a few seconds to take into account the fact that the train had stopped, before she began to grab her bags and books hurriedly.

“I’m sorry, the train’s been stopped for a while now, hasn’t it?” You nod, moving out of her way to accord whatever amount of space she needed in the small traveling car; her saddlebags were swiftly hooked onto her sides, and she began to trot outside, towards the station platform. “I just get so absorbed in my reading... And now we’re off schedule.” She glanced around the next part of the train’s interior while moving towards the door; you followed suit, taking a short look at a haphazardly placed clock; it was still rather early, and the sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon. You sigh softly; if she had a schedule, you should’ve spoken up sooner. No matter what, you messed up.

As you stepped off the train and onto the platform, Twilight began to speak again. “So, this might seem a little sudden, and maybe just a bit rude,” You both stepped off the elevated platform, as she thought for a second, carefully choosing her words. “But I can’t talk to you anymore; at least, not until we complete some preliminary experiments. I want to make sure I get the most accurate results possible, and I might have already flawed the preliminary results a little.” She sighed softly, probably a little discouraged, as she headed towards her home, no doubt, and you gave her a short, curt answer.

“I understand.” It was simple, even if it was slightly untrue; you didn’t comprehend why she needed to stop talking with you, but if she said so, and if it would help her, you’d do it. The streets themselves were relatively barren, only a few odd ponies who undoubtedly stared at you as you passed by, some whispering to another with idle gossip; after all, it wasn’t every day you saw somepony in shackles, especially this early in the morning. That must be why Twilight had wanted to be quick; if the bustling village had fully awoken, it would only have been worse, except you had mucked up her foresight by your inattention.

With that being said, the town itself seemed... quaint. It wasn’t like Canterlot; the houses were still made of stone and wood, but they looked much more appealing and less prim than the more favoured districts of Canterlot. It was soothing, in a way; maybe you simply hadn’t seen the run down areas of Ponyville, but this was nice. In the distance, you could see a large tree with a... telescope? It stood out awkwardly compared to the houses, and it seems like you were headed there; she lived in a tree? That’s... odd, to say the least, but you lived in an abandoned house; you’d have gladly given that up for such a residence, no matter how weird it was.

She hadn’t actually gone into detail about her living arrangements when she had spoke to you about Ponyville; she simply said that, fortunately for her, it was already equipped with many of the tools she needed for her studies. That, and her assistant was a baby dragon; probably another subject for her studies, in some way; even then, he’d be absent for a day or two, as he cleaned out both of their personal belongings from her previous library. Otherwise, you didn’t know much about Ponyville; she had talked quite a bit about the friends she had made, but you didn’t really know what they looked like, or how they spoke. Just who they were.

During your thoughts, Twilight had, indeed, directed herself towards that odd tree; she really did live there... Well, she must enjoy it then. If she enjoys it, you’re sure you can tolerate it; after all, it won’t leak in the rain, and she must have a wonderful view, given how high it extends. It really was quite large as well; even if the exterior was relatively lacking, in terms of fancy aesthetics, you’re certain the interior is garnished in a prim manner that would perhaps even compete with Celestia’s sumptuous palace. It fills you with a feeling of unease in your gut, that you’d be forced to stay in a place that reminds you of what you hate; at the very least, Twilight would be there, a shining ray of sunlight on an otherwise dreary day.

She trots farther ahead of you for a moment, opening the door; you smile slightly, and she returns your gesture with the same amount of gusto. Stepping through the portal into Twilight’s realm, her home, your anticipations are proven false; the walls are lined with bookcases, each one filled to the brim with slightly dusty books. There’s a table in the room as well, supporting two open books and a few errant pages; a report or study of some sort, you’re sure, and even if incomprehensible to you, you’re curious about what she studies. A set of stairs travels upwards, probably to some sort of observation deck for the telescope, and a few doors in the gaps between bookcases; finally, a fireplace is placed opposite of you, but it’s clearly been dormant for some time, as it was devoid of both wood, while being relatively clean of soot. It certainly wasn’t even close to what you expected...

While you take a few more steps forward, your hooves resounding in the large space, Twilight closes the door after she enters, setting her saddlebags next to the door. She steps in front of you, beckoning you to follow her as the carefully trots up the stairs. You obey, not talking; mucking up her research would be bad, especially when she’s forced to suppress her curiosity, stalling her experiments until she can get an accurate read on you. Once you reach the top of the stairs, Twilight opens the single door, stepping through first this time; you can tell she’s excited about this, from the way her hooves spring slightly with each step. She must be struggling to contain her glee; although she does motion you into the room relatively calmly.

Still without words, she motions you to wait there with a hoof, and you nod; taking the opportunity to look around the room, you notice it isn’t as regal as you expected. Many more bookcases, most filled to the brim with books, but a few empty ones, are pinned against the walls; a small sort of basket, complete with a miniature blanket and pillow occupy one of the few spaces devoid of bookcases. Another one of the less literary spaces holds a larger bed, clearly Twilight’s, although it looks like it was yet to be slept in; finally, two ground bound window-like doors were present, leading to a small veranda. Other than the outer findings of the room, a desk was present, with a few pages and books open in a very organized manner; related to whatever other studies she was doing, you were sure.

During your observations, she had apparently found what she was looking for and had suspended it in her magical aura; a small contraption, rectangular in shape, with a few meter occupying the majority of the screen, along with two buttons, one red and the other green. Attached to the side of the box was a small cable, which trailed a fair ways to a small, cone shaped fabric; despite the magical glow around it, it seemed to emanate a faint light without Twilight’s magic. For the first time since your departure from the station, she broke her silence for a few moments to explain the experiment. “This is a magical capacity measurement device; simply put, I’m going to measure what kind of magical energy you have at your disposal, even if you can’t currently call upon any of it yourself. You might feel a little tingling from your horn, since this tissue has a few select enchantments on it to allow it to draw some raw magic from you, but it’s not painful or damaging.” She smiled reassuringly, slowly beginning to move the cone towards your head.

Well, that explanation made sense; lowering your head, you allow her to place the cone over your horn, making sure it fights tightly around it, before she presses the green button on the device and it hums to life. You wait a few seconds, no sensations gracing your horn, and your ears twitching slightly; nothing seems to happen for a few minutes, and perhaps that’s how slow this was supposed to go. A single look at Twilight’s confused expression, however, tells you that this isn’t going according to plan; her hoof taps the glass coating the meter once, before she chimes in over the sound of the gizmo running. “This... doesn’t make any sense. It’s literally not picking up any sort of capabilities, dormant or active; even with those shackles restricting your use of magic and your latent inability to cast, you should have some sort of basic magical reserve. Maybe it’s broken?”

Without giving you the chance to respond, she swiftly pulls the smooth fabric off your horn, attaching it to her own; within a second, the meter of the device begins to rise, pushing itself to the edge in a timely manner and pressing the very measurements of the device to the built-in limits. Perplexed, Twilight turns off the device, floating it back to where she originally took it. “Well, that was... interesting. Confusing, but interesting.” She makes her way over to the desk, a quill floating in her lavender hue, and begins writing down a few notes. “I’m sorry, but I really need to record these findings and start working up some preliminary theories; you can look around the library. Your room is on the ground floor, parallel to the kitchen.” She looks up from her desk for a minute, waiting for your reply while her horn continues to glow, forcing the quill to write.

“Alright. I’ll be fine.” Your reply was quick, and you simply turn around, casting a wayward glance towards Twilight, who was already floating over several books, looking up various references and writing down her findings or theories. Quietly, you close the door and trot down into the main section of the library, making your way to the open book on the desk, rather than your current room; Twilight wouldn’t mind you taking a look at her work, would she? After all, you probably couldn’t understand it enough to copy it. Your eyes pour over the book, reading too many complicated words you can’t even fathom the meaning off, and then move over to the other one, this one... blank? That doesn’t make sense...

Turning the pages of the book, one seems to be completely filled, while the other was devoid of any sort of writing; a lone page on the desk, however, catches your eye. You look over it, noticing a sort of checklist; the first thing she needed to do was “Re-copy” a book... and the list was rather long. She had all this to do, and it didn’t even include anything involving you or the experiments you were to take part in on the list! That was certainly a lot of work for her; she wouldn’t object to you helping her out, would she? It was just writing, after all, and she had scrawled most of the words so quickly they looked almost illegible on her list; Celestia was probably working her to the bone, and then some. Carefully, you close the books and place a pen on top of one, just barely gripping all three objects in your maw and trotting off to where Twilight had mentioned your living quarters would be; the least you could do for her is take a bit of the work she had and do it for her. Even if you’d do it with but a fraction of the skill, she had so much to do; later, when she had less, she could fix your errors, and at least until then she’d have less.

Passing through the door to your room and closing it behind you, your decision to help her only had more validity; your domain was, by your standards, the best you had ever lived in. A bed, just next to a nightstand, was the piece that caught your eye the most; it had two thick, likely warm sheets and a soft, downy pillow on top. You set your cargo down on the nightstand next to the bed, taking care not to knock over the single candle on it; afterwards, you quickly test out the bed, ripping away the neatly placed covers and wrapping them around yourself in a warm cocoon. A deep whiff of them makes it apparent that they were recently washed, a very unusual bombardment to your senses, but a very welcome one; you take a few seconds to relax, taking in the rest of the room’s furniture.

It seems like, at one point, this room may have been used as a personal study room, of sorts; an empty writing desk, much to your delight, remains, partially shoved in a corner of the room, while a single miniature bookshelf, void of books, is the only other piece in the room. That’s of no bother to you, since you had the essentially: a warm bed, and a way to help Twilight. You wrap one such blanket around your neck, forming a sort of warm cape, and then close the door; after all, you didn’t want Twilight to know about this until it was done. She’d hopefully be pleasantly surprised. Making three trips to the worn out writing desk, one for each book, and one for the pen, you open up the written book to the first page, and open up the other to the first blank one.

Gripping a pen without magic was a little awkward, but once you figured out how to, you’d never forget it; your teeth closed around the implement, the pointed end beginning to touch the paper. The trick was that instead of using your lips or shifting your head around, you needed to use your tongue; with swift, precise nudges of the end, you could easily write coherently, rather than write scribbles, like most ponies who had no magic did. Of course, it took practice, but it was second nature to you; the pages on the previously barren book began to blossom, words, some within, some out of, your comprehension, but the pages begin to fill with your writing. This continues for some time, your hoof turning the pages every so often; generally those of the book you’re copying, rather than the one you’re writing.

Eventually, you hear the old stairs creaking, and you rush to hide both books; it was better to be safe than sorry. Frantically, you stuff both of them under the bed frame, making sure they’re out of view unless she were to specifically take a look under your bed; satisfied with such a hiding spot, you climb up onto the bed, place your head against the pillow and stare upwards at the ceiling. She may not even come into the room, but if she did, the least you could do is try not to look suspicious; you weren’t going to lie to her, and you just hoped she wouldn’t ask where the books had gone, but she was a smart, perceptive mare. Chances are, she’d notice as soon as she stepped onto the ground floor.

Your stomach groans audibly as you roll over onto your side, facing away from the door; it was relatively quiet inside, and so Twilight was sure to have heard. Sure enough, her hooves become inaudible to your ears for a moment; they resume a second later, becoming slightly louder as she approaches your closed door. A soft, almost timid knocking sound is heard against the door, while her voice pierces through it in a fashion that grabs your attention through your hunger. “I’m going to make dinner; would you care to join me?” Your eyes close for a second while you roll over, hoofs thumping against the floor as they support you; the door brushes open slowly, Twilight becoming visible behind it, just as lovely as ever, although she looked a little perplexed. She looks at you for an answer, and not wanting to vocalize anything, you just nod; she returns the acknowledgement with a smile, turning around to head to the kitchen. “You can wait in the kitchen while I prepare it, if you like.”

Verbally silent, you follow her into the kitchen; your eyes worriedly glance at the table, clearly devoid of two books. She had to have noticed, or was she simply ignoring it for now? Or was she so enraptured in her current project with you that she had failed to notice the disappearance? In any case, you had to watch your words carefully; Twilight would no doubt take note if you said something that implied you had stolen her books, and if she had noticed, she would definitely be suspicious of you.

Thinking about your concerns took long enough for you to enter the kitchen, and once snapping out of your thoughts, you notice Twilight as already beginning to prepare food for both of you; the kitchen itself looked average, from what you’d assume: a somewhat large table stood in the middle, easily seating six ponies, while various cupboards are strewn up below the counter, and finally, a fridge and oven sit in perpendicular corners, powered by enchanted gems, you were sure. It just seemed so plain and unrefined, just like the rest of her house; she truly must have just gotten here herself, otherwise, being Celestia’s personal student, at the very least her room would be lacquered with fine, exuberant decorations. Given how barren each room seemed, in comparison the palace, she couldn’t have been here for any period of time; Twilight, meanwhile, was simply tossing together various flowers and veggies into a bowl, something simple for her, you’re sure, so you ask her the question that’s been plaguing you since you arrived. “Twilight,” Her head turns for a moment, her horn glowing while she continued to prepare the food, “I don’t understand why everything here is so... old. It doesn’t look fancy, like the palace. I mean, you’re studying under the princess, but this place doesn’t look like you are at all.”

Twilight raises an eyebrow, somehow confused by your simple question. “Just because Princess Celestia took me under her wings as an apprentice doesn’t mean I have to, or enjoy, living in a palace.” She grabs two wooden spoons with her magic, mixing and tossing the salad. “I’ve always enjoyed the more calm aspects of a library; in Canterlot, I used to stay at the library more often than the palace, unless Princess Celestia needed me, or I needed her guidance, and even if it was very well decorated, I didn’t particularly care about that. The books are what made me enjoy it more than the palace; I seek knowledge, not aesthetics.” You lower your head slightly, ashamed; why did you think she would be, even in the smallest possible way, so vain? You were stupid, like always... almost silently, you give a meek apology, although you’re sure she heard it.

For a split second, her concentration on the meal wavers, and then resumes just as quickly; she was probably going to respond, perhaps take pity on you for being so idiotic or try and make you think it wasn’t wrong of you to do, but she doesn’t. She was probably occupied with other things; after all, that large list outside was rather daunting, even for her, but you’re sure a certain royal somepony who enforced it didn’t care.

Twilight finally split the salad into two bowls, setting each down at one extremity of the table; taking the invitation, you sat down at one end, the one closest to you, and she took the other. At the sight of food, despite your mind’s more preoccupying concerns, your body’s urges take precedence, and your muzzle dives into the bowl, taking small, rapid bites of the various vegetables. Twilight didn’t seem surprised, since, after all, you couldn’t use utensils; she, on the other hoof, held such tools in her magical grasp, and took much more civilized bites. For perhaps a minute, the only sound that filled the kitchen was the occasional crunch from a harder bit of veggie or the scrapping sound of Twilight’s fork against her bowl. That is, until Twilight broke the silence between her bouts of consumption. “So, I’d like to gather some historical aspects about your life to more accurately pinpoint a probably theory, in regard to your lack of magical skills.” Your face rises above the bowl for a second, just long enough for you to agree, a few smaller pieces of food falling from your muzzle and back into the bowl, before you resume eating.

“Excellent!” She smiled giddily, clearly eager to begin; you didn’t see how it was that important, but if she thought it was, then it had to be. “To begin, I’ll have to go through a few mundane questions, even if I’m fairly certain I know the answers; simply to make sure I’m correct. You’re originally from, and until recently lived in, Canterlot?” As much as you hated how right she was, on that subject, she was. “Unfortunately... yeah.” She can sense the disappointment in your voice, but it does little to brim her enthusiasm as she continues. “Okay, and you did attend some form of magic training during your colthood years, correct?” Once again, she was right, even if it may have been something most ponies would have glossed over. “Yes... the same one as you.” You expected her to be somewhat surprised, but she seems to have, at the very least, anticipated that possibility in your reply, and she was unfazed by it.

She had probably assumed that from your earlier ramblings; after all, Canterlot was a rather large city, and one of the few spots you’d be guaranteed to find her would be at her magic kindergarten. So it wouldn’t come as a surprise to her, and her lack of surprise would have been easy to see, if you had enough of a brain to think a little more. At least she didn’t lack the foresight you did; after all, she had said she was fairly sure of your answers beforehoof. “I suppose I don’t need to ask if your trainer was certified, then.” She shoved some salad into her mouth, taking a small respite from the few questions she had asked, but before long she was back at it. “I’m also going to need to delve into your personal past a little, so I can get an accurate portrait of potential reasons for your current situation. I’m sorry if it hurts, but it needs to be done.”

You flinch a little; the past was a sensitive subject for you, but you’d face parts of it if Twilight asked it. “I take it you had very few colthood friends?” Her voice was reluctant, but she pressed on. “I don’t like assuming the worst, but it’s just that given what you’ve said before... it seems like the most probable possibility.” You stare down into your, now empty, bowl, the contents having been devoured throughout, and before, your questioning; it takes a while for you to gather your courage, the question itself causing various events to flash before your eyes. The schoolyard colts hitting you, taking the few meagre bits you had brought for food, the other fillies in your class passing notes and laughing snidely at you; all except Twilight, of course... “None.” Looking up from your bowl, Twilight still lacked any sort of surprise, but this time, her face was sympathetic.

“I feel bad about being right on that one.” She eked out a slight, awkward chuckle, perhaps uncertain about how to react; her eyes dipped into her own food while she ate, your answers apparently giving her enough to mull over. You rub your shoulder with a hoof awkwardly, your eyes shifting around the room; you felt uncomfortable in the heavy silence. Soon enough, however, Twilight would remedy that problem. “I think that’s enough questions for now; it’s more than enough to confirm my initial theory.” She polished off her salad with one last bite, taking a few moments to chew and swallow it before she went on. “It’ll be impossible to say that, for certain, my theory is correct; however, it’s something to go on for now.” Her horn glows, enveloping both of the bowls in her aura and placing them in the nearby sink. “Unfortunately, you’ll be bound to the library for a few days; you’ll be residing here, of course, but I need a little while before I can arrange some outings for you.” Her hooves tapped against the ground in tandem while she moved out of the kitchen, probably returning to her studies and books, the largest break the could allow herself already passed due to her large volume of work.

“Although, I do want to give you a task, starting tomorrow.” Your ears perk up as she stops just outside the kitchen: she had your full attention. If she needed help with anything, you had to give it to her; even if you were already helping her, without her knowing it yet, she had so much work to do, and you were barely helping her in the first place. “It’s rather unorthodox, but I believe it will be very helpful to me; I’d like you to keep a journal of your thoughts about anything. Your past, me, your nightmares...” She trails off for a second, formulating the rest of her phrase carefully. “I’d be reading it every day or two, so I’d need to rely on you being completely honest with me, but I believe it will be good for you in the long run; I just won’t force you to do it, and I’d understand if you don’t want to record certain thoughts or events.”

It would be hard to stay honest about all your thoughts, but you could be vague, or just choose words carefully; you weren’t very skilled in language, so she’d understand if you accidentally implied something. While it wouldn’t make you feel good, you’d do it; anything to help her. You had hoped that it would be some sort of work that would diminish her load, but unfortunately, you’ll just have to settle for this. “I’ll do it. I don’t know how to write well... but I will.” It’s best you told her right away; that way no suspicions would be drawn, hopefully, and you still weren’t lying. She kept trotting, but you heard her reply. “That’s great; thank you. I was a little worried that you’d think I was trying to pry, but I’m very glad that you understand that this will help me so much in my studies; I’m aware that you aren’t the most instructed, so if I need clarification, I’ll be sure to ask you.” You decided to exit the kitchen as well, since there was nothing left here for you; she probably didn’t want you to follow her, but you could always go back to your assigned room. While a fair bit of the book you were helping Twilight with was copied, a majority of it remained blank, and the sooner you finished that, the sooner you could stop watching your tongue and tell Twilight everything upfront. Until then, you’d just be even more careful than usual, and that was saying something.

Once you exited the kitchen, you saw Twilight had taken a glance at the table you had previously pilfered her books from; given her reaction, a hoof rubbing against her head softly and a few words of confusion, she clearly noticed her work missing. You simply slink by, as best as you could when chained, taking great care to not look suspicious; if she wanted to accuse you, she wasn’t vocalizing herself, but still, you couldn’t help but feel she knew you had done it. She didn’t have any proof, yet, so you were certain she wouldn’t make a hasty assumption; she had circumstantial evidence, of course, but she based herself in the realm of facts. You’d have to try and find a more secure place to hide your stash, at least until you could complete the book; under your mattress would probably be a more secure location, given how you could probably make sure they made no bumps, and were thus completely concealed from view. There weren’t many other options, and that was the best you could come up with; passing through the entrance to your room, you close the door lightly, not wanting to break Twilight’s train of thought if you could help it.

The rest of the day was spent just waiting, mainly lying on your bed; with Twilight clearly suspicious, you’d wait until nightfall to continue your task. Since you’d spend most of the day resting, conserving the energy you had, you had very little doubt in your ability to stay awake longer than your hostess; particularly when she did make a few more meals, and invited you to each of them. She spoke little, in the same sort of rush she was before; one that went unspoken, but was evident by how quickly she was back to her tasks, and how relentlessly she tackled them. You ate much slower, often taking twice the time she did; partially, it was to savor food that was much more elegant than you were used to, but it also served as a small distraction from the boredom of waiting. In the next few days, with proper meetings and introductions with Twilight’s friends being organized, perhaps that idle feeling would fade, but for now, you would be forced to tolerate it.

As night fell, you could still hear Twilight work from outside your room; the occasional shimmer of a book being levitated or the thump of her hooves as she trotted around, mixed with the more consistent sound of pages turning and her writing, along with a yawn or two, from time to time. Biding your time for a few more minutes, you heard a final yawn as the trotted up to her room, with her day finally over; your work, however, was truly beginning now. Very silently, you opened the door to your room, which thankfully didn’t creak in the slightest; acting quickly and trying to minimize the jangling of your infernal chains, you grab the candle on your nightstand and venture out into the library. Thankfully, a lit candle was on the table, either due to Twilight’s inattention in the face of her large workload, or due to how she would be back down shortly; it didn’t matter, you just needed to procure your own illumination and be on your way. Carefully, you dip the wick into the flame, igniting it and gracing the main room with even more light; just in case Twilight would plan to come back down, you neglect blowing out the other candle, but make note that if she did not within a few minutes, you would return to do so.

Moving back to your room, closing the door behind you once again, you set the candle on the writing desk, and then grab all of your other work tools underneath your bed; you were fully prepared, and you begin copying once again. This time, however, you went much slower; the light was not as present as before, and so you had more difficulty in properly identifying the words and letters on each page. You were being as accurate as possible, but you hoped no errors were made; at this rate, it would take much longer to fully complete the book, particularly when you had more tasks to perform and outings to attend, but it would be worth it. You were sure of that.

For the next few hours, if you could accurately estimate the time, you wrote away; pausing your task only to return to the library after the building was basking in the sound of silence, you gently blow out the lit candle Twilight had left ignited. Afterwards, nothing disturbed your writing; your worries were banished for the moment, as were your fears, and the interruptions were nonexistence. While you couldn’t accurately measure your progress, you were certain that you made some; as the night went on, and you began to tire, you decided to finish, for tonight. Even if you could tell Twilight you had trouble sleeping, which you did at times, you could avoid bending the truth if you slept a little; stashing both of the books, along with the quill, underneath your mattress, you blow out your only source of light, and hop into the disheveled sheets. Wrapping yourself in them once you again, and placing your head on the pillow, you peer out at the moon; it glowed, illuminating your room in a dim aura. While it was pretty, perhaps even beautiful, it couldn’t even begin to compare with your one other thought before you slept: Twilight. Closing your eyes with her imprinted in your memory, you begin to fall asleep peacefully, hoping that your previous, short nightmare would not repeat itself, and that the dream you have would be much more pleasant...

Your dream progressed wonderfully, if a little rapid; given how little time you had, that was needed. Twilight and you were walking through an unnamed park, perhaps in her small, nice town; you didn’t care, all that mattered was that she was with you. This time, she was dressed in a similar manner to you; the rich gown she once totted in this realm had vanished, and was replaced with her simple, natural beauty: she wore nothing. You close your eyes blissfully, for a moment, leaning into her and attempting to wrap a hoof around hers...

You stumble in her direction, not prepared for the lack of solid feeling; your eyes shock themselves open as you frantically turn around, looking for her. She was nowhere to be seen, as absent as her previous garments; your heart beats quickly, an uneasy feeling overcoming you, but it was unfortunately familiar. Your breath accelerates, while your unease is confirmed; the trees that grace the park begin to vanish, slowly turning black, as the ground just beneath your hooves follows suit, but you are somehow immune to the effects, once again. Your body shakes in fear; you were powerless. This may be your dream, but no matter how much you thought about bringing Twilight back or banishing the darkness that consumed this world, you couldn’t; soon enough, you were once again in a dark void, alone. This time, however, a voice rang out in the distant darkness. “Face your fears...”

You turn around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice, but as it repeats itself, the location changes. “Get out!” You shout, turning around in the direction of sound each time it repeats itself. “This is my dream! You’re not supposed to be here, get out!” You bellow the last two words, frustrated; somepony was messing around with you. You didn’t know who, you didn’t know how, and you certainly didn’t know why, but you’d be damned if you were going to sit down and take such a being disrespecting your only sanctuary. The voice seemed to weaken, either willingly after hearing your outburst, or unwillingly from your willpower; eventually, you were left in silence once more, but even with the ethereal noise banished, your dream did not return to normal.

It was a prison. Being alone, in the dank, desolate darkness, left with nothing but time, and you used it to think; of Twilight, of the library, of anything else but the formless void around you. It scared you, the darkness, that is, when you were alone; it eclipsed all else, reminding you of your fears, of memories you want to keep buried and of unpleasant feelings. The morning would come soon enough, with how late you had went to bed and how early you’re sure you’d awake, either from the rays of the sun or the intervention of Twilight, but it couldn’t come fast enough. Until then, all you could do is keep your mind occupied, and try to relax as much as possible; you’d need your rest, and although you’re sure your sleep would be lacking, you’d make the most of it. It was more than you were used to, at least, and so you just resigned yourself to the fate of your dream for the rest of the duration.

Enlightening Revelations

It had been a few days since your arrival to Ponyville; Twilight had been busy, with both her friends and her tasks, but she had used the little bits of spare time she had to introduce you to her assistant and, from time to time, occupy you in friendly conversation. You were surprised, in a way; you didn’t expect a draconic being to be so tiny, nor did you expect him to be anything but a brute. From some more chatting with the small dragon, you had figured out that Twilight had hatched him, and he had been raised by her his whole life; you suppose that explained his demeanour, in some ways. Just from watching, you could see that he was always helping out Twilight, although you took note of one major way he assisted her: writing. Unless he was absent, you rarely saw her pick up a quill for the frequent letter or the more than common report; it seemed off, in a way, but you didn’t care much about it. More pressing issues were at hoof.

One such issue was your nights, as they were particularly troubling; the nightmares kept repeating, morphing into new scenarios and becoming all the more bothersome. Whatever was invading your dreams was powerful; despite your concentration and will, every time it stayed for longer, but it never manifested beyond a voice. In due time, you were certain it would take a physical form; the only saving grace was that you were, fortunately, used to such a lack of sleep. It would take much more than that to dislodge you from your task. As sleepless as your nights had been, they were productive; you were nearing the end of first forgery, of sorts, with a fair bit of additional pages remaining in your copy, more than were remaining in the original book. At this rate, perhaps you could just leave Twilight a message on the last few pages; while she had gotten you a journal, and you had discussed your nightmares in a brief, unspecific manner, but not your late night writing, you had been especially vague and neglected to mention much else. Simply stating something along the lines of your sleep being plagued with such dreams, and your time spent asleep was less effective, well, it was true, in the grand scheme of things.

It still felt a little wrong to mislead her like that. Even if you were close to revealing it, if she asked, you still had to make sure she didn’t find out; at this point, she had nearly torn apart the library while looking for it, and you can only imagine she did the same for her room. That left very few areas to inspect, and time was short; you doubt she’d look in the kitchen for a book, so that room would merely be glanced over, and unless there was a basement or closet that had yet to be checked, she would shortly search the room she allowed you to reside it. The only positive was that it would take but a single night to complete your work, and even if today would be taxing, as you were finally going outside the library for the first time since your arrival, you would ensure that you would finish tonight. Afterwards, it merely became a matter of how to bestow your work to her; you’d cross that bridge when you got there, and if need be you would simply leave both of the goods, along with a note, in a place she was certain to find them.

Given that how today was the first time you would leave the library, you had some other positive thoughts circulating in your mind; Twilight had requested permission to remove your chains, but not your shackles, from her mentor, and somehow, she had accepted. While she had spoken to you a little about it, you had no problem understanding her simple logic; the actual shackles contained the enchantment, and the chains would simply cause problems in the long term, both for you and her, in terms of attracting attention. Celestia has graciously accepted that suggestion, and so your hooves felt better; not to mention you moved as quietly as before, and that would make surprising Twilight with your gift a much easier task. Ponies wouldn’t be staring at you as much, unlike your arrival; you had been reassured of that, and it made sense, since it would merely look like some sort of style now, rather than an indication of your crimes. You simply hoped that nopony would properly remember you from your initial travel to the library, because you’d hate to make it even more difficult to make some friends, and that was what Twilight wanted of you for her experiments.

In any case, today had already begun; Spike had cooked a delicious omelette, and while you had been apprehensive about eating it at first, since chickens came from eggs, Twilight had explained, very simply, that if hens were kept away from roosters, the eggs would not be fertilized, so they were safe to eat without the egg having a chance of hatching. You had felt stupid that she had to teach you that, and even more idiotic since you hadn’t even vocalized your ill feeling, but she had still perceived it. Even more importantly, it worried you that if she asked anything about her missing document, well, she’d be able to easily see through whatever small ruse you attempted to mount, and you’d be in bad predicament. Until now, at least, she hadn’t asked you yet, but you had overheard a chat between her and her assistant about it; both were clueless about the whereabouts, so at least your hiding spot had yet to be uncovered. If it was not found today, you were essentially safe; you could only hope that neither of them entered that room, and if they did, that the bed remain untouched and unturned.

While your preparations for the day were little, all mental and amounting to very little amounts of effort, Twilight’s effort was much greater, but still involved relatively little physical work. At most, you could perhaps count that she had removed your chains, but that’s all; the brisk trek over to her friend’s house could hardly be counted as physical activity, considering how she had no saddlebags and it was a purely social visit, for her. Her findings need only be recorded after your visit, and you were the one who had to be more prepared; her research involved you, and if you were inadequate in preparation or action, then she would falter in that domain. You couldn’t let that happen, especially if you were the cause; you couldn’t atone yourself in any way if you let that happen. Not in your eyes, at least; perhaps Twilight would find it in her generous, compassionate heart to forgive you, but she would be too kind if she did. So much of her precious time wasted, all for naught, while the large amount of time you had, unoccupied by other tasks, should guarantee, at the very least, an ample amount of information for her, and if you failed, it was nopony’s fault but yours.

The odd battle between thoughts in your brain began to subside as the time of departure neared. Instead, curiosity on who you were to visit began to pique your mind; Twilight had, over the course of your days of relative isolation, attempted to at least chat with you. Anything she said would enthrall you, and so you allowed her to choose the subjects; ideally, subjects which were dear to her, such as her friends, or her study of the sciences, astronomy and magic in particular. In the few conversations you had with her, the subject tended to drift towards her friends, rather than the sciences, although she did venture into the more concrete realm of her experimentations more than once, but at every occasion, she must have noticed the engraved look of confusion upon your face. Instead of remaining in a world you were totally blind to, she tended to avoid it and remain within a world you could comprehend. At the very least, you ensured that you attempted to retain the names of her friends from the bulk of her conversations, but when your worries were nearly eating apart your mind every time she was around, it was difficult to remember much else, even if you attempted to.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, reality began to take precedence over your inner quarrel; breakfast was had, and Twilight was just wrapping up a few of her early morning duties with Spike before you two were to head out to her friend’s house. She had been particularly vague, and neglected to mention who it was you were visiting, but those were details you didn’t need; what you needed was simple. Data. With the lack of information you had, partially due to your own neglect when she spoke to you, as you were more concerned with hiding any sort of guilty gestures or twitches, it was difficult to understand exactly what Twilight had wanted you to accomplish. It didn’t take much to assume that it may relate to your magical abilities, but that was so unspecific you couldn’t possibly obtain some information she needed; you’d have to ask her as soon as you got a chance, if it could be done without showing ignorance on your part. To ensure you were helping her as much as you could.

During your down time, which you had gotten quite used to, as writing during the day was far too risky, even if the other occupants of the library were busy, you had wandered around the main area a fair bit; Twilight had, of course, told you that you were free to borrow any books, although you should tell her which one as soon as you took it. It made you feel even worse about what you had done, but you couldn’t change the past. For a few minutes, you browsed the various shelves, reading only the titles of books; from what you assumed were novels, with titles that ranged from imaginative to silly, to heavy scientific books with a very clear, concise title, to some sort of cooking recipes… In short, this library seemed to have a dash of everything; a veritable alchemic hodgepodge that, even if you were sure it was enjoyed by the other occupants, did very little for you.

Some hoofsteps drew you away from your perusing, clearly, Twilight had finished with her other duties, and was ready to escort you to your destination; you’re certain that if she could just send you with directions, she would, as it would allow her more time to focus on her work, but if she was willing to take time out of her busy schedule for you… it would be incredibly rude to refuse it. “I’m sorry it took so long, we can be on our way right now.” Her voice was, as always, a pleasure to hear, and without wasting too much time in completing your pointless browsing, you gave her your full attention. “Sure.” While it was simple, you always felt a little awkward around her; she was smart, beautiful, pure, caring… everything you weren’t, and it showed painfully every second she honoured you with her presence. As brief as your words with her were, you treasured them, and would continue to do so as long as she would speak with you; however, you didn’t want to waste any more of her time than you had to, as you were certain she didn’t value yours as highly.

Your veritable caretaker smiled, and opened the door to her library; you weren’t going to keep her waiting any longer than needed, so you hastily trotted over behind her. As she exited, and you followed, you kept to her side, although a few hoofsteps behind, as she was leading you and you weren’t really aware of where you were going to end up; Ponyville didn’t seem as complicated as Canterlot, but it was a completely alien territory to you, devoid of alleys and abandoned buildings. Those were familiar, safe zones to you, which you cherished more than the average pony would be fond of their home; at the very least, Twilight made you feel safer. She was Celestia’s student, and as much as you hated using that as a justification for your logic, it meant that Twilight had to be very proficient at spell casting. Even if she wasn’t your friend, deep down you at least felt that way, it made you feel safe, even if you were walking out in the open. It was oddly pleasant, despite the amount of ponies around; that did make you a little edgy, consistently glancing around and wary of being watched. Perhaps Twilight noticed this, and in an attempt to calm you down and draw your mind away from the unfamiliar ground, begun conversing with you.

“So…” Perhaps she was searching for a subject, but it seemed more like she was intentionally adding a pause; her tone was casual, relaxed, much different than the scholarly or instructive one she had taken with you on your first day in Ponyville. “How are you enjoying the accommodations?” It was an idle question, serving little purpose other than to distract you, but not replying would be rude. “Great. I like it.” While your reply lacked enthusiasm, it did not lack sincerity; you should probably continue the thought, so she doesn’t think you’re merely doing it out of idle obligation, and more out of true appreciation. “It’s a lot better than where I was before; first time I’ve slept with blankets in a while…” You sigh softly, intimately recalling the feeling during your first night of slumber; while your actual sleep was disturbed by your, now somewhat recurring, melancholic dream, the actual physical state of your rest was lovely. “Excellent. I’m sorry that I’ve been so busy, lately; moving into a new town is a bit exhausting.” She smiled, slightly giddy, as she began to speak about the purpose of your visit to her friend’s house.

“I’ve put a fair bit of thought into your first exposure to the elements I suspect relate to your lack of magical abilities. Once you begin to see and adopt certain of these qualities, traits, and other such aspects I believe relate to such an incoherence in your spell-casting, I theorize that your dormant abilities will awake.” You didn’t quite understand all of that, or much, really; just things about magic and the fact that maybe you could use it at some point. Whatever it took, you’d do; if it was for her, whether you understood it or not. She was just explaining, with little need for a reply, so you didn’t answer her; instead, you took in the sights a little more.

The town really did look lovely, now that you took the time to admire it during your walk; no run down houses, while not comforting, in some ways, was aesthetically pleasing, in others. Many ponies were awake at this hour, and seemed not to take notice of you as your eyes wandered around the various buildings; most had a roof of straw and wooden walls, a very rural contrast to the stony buildings in Canterlot. The atmosphere itself was light, joyful, with many ponies freely chatting, easily breaking their conversation to greet a fellow townsfolk, inviting them for a bout of gossip or some other topic; others were enjoying a simple morning meal, a bout of unfenced gardening, or merely relaxing in a park off in the distance. “The town hall is just up ahead; past that is Sugarcube Corner, and a little further on is Carousel Boutique. You’ll be spending most of the day there.”

Twilight’s explanation, sudden, was not missed. You can remember the names of those locations being mentioned before, although the ponies who occupied them didn’t surface in your mind. “It sounds fancy. That last place.” While your dejected tone wasn’t directed at her, it was present; with such a fancy name, you just hoped you were speaking with a pony who didn’t adopt the same traits that the name exemplified. “She’s a good friend of mine; she’s a little melodramatic, but she’s also very generous. I think you’ll learn to enjoy her company once you get to know her, and you can both teach each other a lot.” Teach each other a lot? Her phrase, once again on a slightly scholarly, if simplistic, tone, confused you; what could some snobby pony have to possibly teach you? You didn’t want to contest Twilight, but if there were a few things you knew better than her, one of them was surely the way high-class ponies acted among the peasants of the realm; she was protected by Celestia, the most self-proclaimed noble of them all, and you doubted anypony was stupid enough to offend her. She wasn’t ignorant of the situation; she hadn’t turned a blind eye, but she didn’t see reality as it was, since she was never exposed to it. You had been.

“Alright… but I don’t buy it.” You didn’t sound convinced, and made no effort to hide it. Fancy ponies were all the same; it didn’t matter who they were, where they came from or what they did: the differences were minuscule between them. You’d stomach this for your hostess, but that’s all; you’d tolerate today, and be done with it. You hated to say it, but you were sure Twilight was wrong about this. This was your realm of expertise; hers was magic, and as you respected her opinion on it, she should respect yours on this. She, however, was quick to contest, but she didn’t completely annihilate your position. “Don’t judge a book by its cover. There’s a very good lesson in that saying.” She turned around, smiling, perhaps a little smugly, or just sure of herself, and then left you to mull over that.

While you two moved through Ponyville, passing the town hall, a tall structure that stood a tad farther away from most other buildings, and crossed by a stone statue, you thought about those words. Judge a book by the cover? It wasn’t looking at the cover; it was classifying it by genre. If it was a romantic book, it had romance; if it was adventure, it had action, and so on… If it was fancy, it was high-strung, egotistic and better than you, or so they thought. Needless to say, you weren’t going to be learning anything; although, maybe you could teach whoever you were spending the day with a lesson in humility and decency. It’s unlikely they’d listen, but it’d occupy your time for the day, and it would sort of be what Twilight wanted you to do; you would be teaching her, or trying to, and maybe you’d learn a little bit about whatever it is she did. You were, to a degree, meeting her goals.

Sugarcube Corner, or so you assumed, began to appear during your inner ramblings; it seemed like a confectionary building, not only by name, but by stature, with various sweets decorating the building, in particular the roof. Whether it was actual glaze, chocolate and other such goodies, or merely remarkable architectural effects, it gave the building a very appropriate sheen; your tongue licked your lips slightly, as such treats were a rarity for you, one which you savoured at every occasion. Twilight must have seen you, or the small strand of saliva running down your face from the corner of your mouth; she laughed softly, before commenting, part of the same intellectual tone present. “It’s not actually confections; they’re just very well crafted substances that mimic the texture of sweets on a consistent basis. Even on very hot, or cold, days, where normal materials would melt, or freeze and crack off, specific enchantments allow them to maintain their form. The design is so realistic I actually had to look into it myself to be sure!” You crack a smile at the thought; you would’ve jumped to the conclusion, but she had taken the time to verify it herself. “It does look pretty real...” You almost wanted to give one of the chocolate portions a taste, just in case, but you had other matters which needed tending; plus, you’d probably end up making a fool out of yourself.

It really seemed like whoever’s boutique this was, it was a mere stone’s toss away from that heaven of goodies. This structure seemed to be particularly high-maintenance, with a figure of a pony draped over the doorway, embroidered on a piece of pure, white fabric; something expensive, you were sure. The store, you assumed at least, as the curtains were open and you could see mannequins on the inside, towered above many of the other structures; needless displays of wealth and power. After all, it was so much bigger than it needed to be to accommodate the traffic on the average day; from what you assumed was average when you glanced out the window in your room, at least. Even if they had such traffic, the outside was decorated in such a way that made it practically glimmer in imitated royalty; an aspect that everypony who wished they had been born into the regal realm shamelessly attempted to adopt. You knew the inside would be decorated in the same manner, and that whoever this was, their accent would be unfamiliar to the region; probably not proper Canterlot dialect, but something that seemed high-strung and seemed plausible, to those who hadn’t visited the capital. It was a facade, for sure, but you’d be glad to point it out to them, as often as possible; you doubt that they would be exceedingly polite the moment Twilight left you two alone.

As you two approached the door, Twilight neglected to instantly barge in; instead, her hoof knocked against the door politely, loud enough to be heard, but not so forceful as to seem rushed or demanding. It was considerate of her; something you would lack for the occupant. A feminine, posh voice chimed in, simply asking to wait a moment; even with such a small portion of speech to hear, you could already tell she tried to portray that she wasn’t from here, or perhaps she actually wasn’t, but the way she swung as many needless words as she did into her message didn’t bode well with you. It took a few seconds for her to arrive at the door, exchanging quaint greetings with Twilight; she glanced curiously at you, raising a brow, as if she hadn’t been informed of your inevitable presence, or perhaps even what the task was, although she had a gleam in her eyes for a moment before it faded, as if she was piecing together a puzzle that you weren't aware of. Her pure white coat, clearly impeccably cared for with weekly spa trips and coifed mane, violet in color and curled in some sort of ‘style’ crystallized your theory; she was clearly one of those ponies, and the next few hours would probably be spent attempting to socialize with her in a reasonable way, all efforts in vain, of course.

Twilight effortlessly breached the threshold into the pristine, prim unicorn's home, and, reluctantly, you followed suit, your eyes wandering about the insides meticulously, the 'proper' interior stinging your eyes with its radiant opulence. Unlike Twilight's Ponyville accommodations, the other unicorn's more sumptuous abode, drenched in luxurious silk and drowning in the fragrances of whatever perfumes she wore on a daily basis, made you feel uncomfortable. Unfitting. Not that you fit in elsewhere, but such high standards never bode well for your morale, and you never rose to meet them: today would be no exception. Twilight must have been accustomed to such realms of royalty, or in this case the wanton feel of its impersonation; with the amount of highly decorated mannequins, all bearing flagrantly classy outfits, each and every mare's figure trimmed into the appearance of a typical, generic, boring, high-class mare: a sarcastically shocking representation of the occupant herself.

Introductions were never something you had many of, if any, that were pleasurable; you were supposed to be nice, at least a little, but how do you convey that in a greeting to somepony who's embodying everything you despise? For a few, fleeting, moments, an awkward silence mixed itself into the scene, an observation you noted very quickly, and while you could have relied on either of the mares to initiate and break the stillness, you had promised to try and socialize... the least you can do is try one aspect of it. You'd seen casual acquaintances in Canterlot greet a fair bit, and you extend a hoof in an imperfect imitation, unsure of the correct distance or posture to adopt, before your somewhat dismissive voice chimes in, a sort of echo towards the usual Canterlot dialogue she must be accustomed to. "Hi. I'm... Calligraphy. I guess you're..." There was a moment of recollection inside of you, amidst the sea of hesitation, trying to think of her name; it figures that you'd omit Twilight's most high-horsed friend from your memories. After a quick process of elimination, you decide to hazard a guess, your lack of confidence displaying itself prominently in your voice. "Rarity, I think?..."

Despite the exceedingly clear lack of confidence, her hoof extended to grip yours and, in that nearly tentative way befitting of making acquaintances, shook it lightly, before her melodic, carefully intoned voice glided outwards to greet you. "Of course, it is always a pleasure to meet an admirer! It is fantastic to make your acquaintance, darling." Her voice already began to give you a headache, that artificially sophisticated accent nothing but an annoyance in the air around you; that overly confident ego was another type of pain, and it nearly made you sick to your stomach in disgust. Despite looking directly at you, her blue eyes seemed intentionally distant, focusing around you rather than upon you; that sort of uninterested facade, with the goal of piquing another's curiosity, forcing them to speculate as to why she was like that, and in turn causing many to attempt, without success, to rapt her attention.

With a stiff gesture, you removed your hoof after she seemed to, somehow, grow even more tired of your presence. Excusing yourself, with the paltry reason of 'looking at her pretty dresses', you broke away from the two mares and began your facade of examination, while they began to chat peacefully, probably catching up with each other, or discussing about you; Rarity did give a sort of raised brow at your lack of eloquence, but you shrugged it off as social obligations on her part. Your glance on her dresses was somewhat genuine, but generic; you had seen the same sort of gems on many a garb in Canterlot, in the same sort of self-proposed 'unique' styles that were truly no different from whatever resident fashionista made their home next door, much less the one that was but a town away. Each garment radiated that aura of attempted, self-proposed perfection; they appeared to be flawless gems in the rough, diamonds shimmering in a night sky, but they were no better, nor more well crafted, than what you could get anywhere else in town: of that, you were sure.

You aren't sure how long the two unicorns spent talking while you looked around, but you kept feeling a suspicious gaze from behind you; you never turned to look, long since used to such feelings, and it felt almost judging in its aura. Rarity, for certain; eventually, you were called over again, fortunately by Twilight. You were careful in moving around the dresses, not brushing a single errant hair of your coat over them; you'd give Rarity no reason to hate you, if only for the satisfaction of her hatred afterwards. The boutique was empty, save for you three, and it made explanations rather simple; you'd be here for the day, with Rarity, for what Twilight didn't specify. It made you rather uneasy, although you were sure she wasn't dangerous in the least, the uncertainty serves to worry, rather than excite. Regardless, you responded with an attempt at a courteous "All right, Twilight...", and Rarity seemed somewhat pleased. Her eyes were almost shining now, glistening with every slight movement of her pupils as she looked over you in your entirety... and it made you nervous. She suddenly seemed so involved and spurred with some form of intense dedication and enthrallment with you; wondering what they spoke about gave no clues that you could think of, but it caught you off guard.

As soon as Twilight shut the door behind you, the remaining unicorn nearly pounced on you, her eyes still in possession of that glittering fervour. "You're from... Canterlot! Oh, I am so envious, the glamour, the style, the class!... you simply must tell me about it." At the mention of the capital her high-strung voiced waned, and you took a step back; she had, in a split second, seemed almost enthralled by the very mention of that unfortunate fact. Her reaction threw you off for a moment, and she seemed to ignore the fact that your body was not donning the most exquisite outfit, nor was your coiffure particularly well done; you cleared your throat for a moment, although not in the regal manner she must have been thinking of, before replying in a manner that must have shattered the fantasized form she had created of you, and her beloved Canterlot, in her mind.

"I'm not from the Canterlot that you want to know. I didn't grow up in some mansion or castle, I grew up in a house that's barely standing. I steal from other ponies because I don't have a choice." As you spoke your gaze grew harsher, staring directly into her eyes as they began to appear more sympathetic with each word, that artificial action that every self respecting Canterlot mare knew how to do on command. "When I went home I hoped the guard didn't find me, and that the other ponies in the slums didn't either, because I'd be gone in a second. You should ignore me, you'll see the pretty, fake side of Canterlot that way... and I bet that's what you want." You walked past her, her eyes following yours, while your own were distant, ignoring her gaze and any movements; reminiscing as you walked, your empty eyes settled one of the back window as you moved towards it, your own hated reflection staring back at you. "I had a chance to be happy once, and it's gone. You're best to leave me alone, or I'll drag you down."

There were a few moments of silence as you reflected on what had just been said, noting how it slowly drifted towards yourself, but it was of little matter; you said things as they were, free of the veils that other ponies put on not to see, and you were not above such obligatory honesty. Rarity's soft hoofsteps echoed out, and with more careful listening you could hear muffled sounds from outdoors, although it was overshadowed by her light breaking, a few light, restrained sniffles joining her hoofsteps. "That is... not quite how I envisioned Canterlot-" She began, but you were rather quick to cut her off just there, noticing her approach in the window. "Nopony thinks it looks that way. They always think it's so perfect, that there's no problems... they forgot about ponies like me." A rather long sigh left your lips, fogging the window for a moment, before it dissipated, revealing Rarity next to you; your eyes spotted her, just barely, in their peripheral vision, but her reflection was much clearer, with each refined element of her constructed composure being visible.

"Now, perhaps certain ponies possess the nerve to ignore you, and commit such atrocities against others... but I shall not stoop to such uncouth, vile levels." One of her hooves grazed against your shoulder, the manicured, polished and trimmed limb urging you to follow her; reluctantly, you allowed her to guide you as you ventured upwards, on set of stairs leading to the second floor, while she continued. "You may have guessed, darling, but I am a couturier, and I would simply adore enlightening you to the proper aspects of haute-culture." With every step your body shuddered softly, while you took a deep, calming breath; she had the gall to suggest that you didn't know exactly how her kin operated, when she was the one who was blind. "While I certainly have not sewn any stallion focused attire, I am certain that you would not mind being the first to receive such a gift, darling?" She gazed back on you, with your face rather calm, despite your inner sense of hatred rising more with each passing moment, that seemed to stretch on far more than normal chronology would allow,

"I guess... but I don't like fancy stuff." She almost seemed to take offense from your reply as the stairs ended, a sort of shocked, overly dramatic gasp leaving her mouth, before she huffed off, trotting with her nose high in the air while she spoke. "Nonsense! You have, clearly, not seen a truly refined individual, nor experienced the proper sophistication they may offer." You sighed, internally, not wanting to provoke her into more outbursts of the genre; merely nodding as she looked to ensure you were indeed following, and not pilfering what you could of her gem garbed dressed downstairs, before she dipped into one of the rooms in the hall. Following suit, what greeted you was... peculiar. You had expect a meticulously organized space, with every item being within the grasp of her magic at any point, while it formed some sort of particular pattern that she judged aesthetically correct, and that any other would be, by its very nature, disorganized...

Rolls of satin, silk or whatever designer fabric were strewn across the floor, mannequins were placed in a haphazard fashion, some with bits of partially completed dresses on, others with the strangest combination of pieces that seemed more like a designer's travesty than pride; her needles were scattered in various places, some near her sewing machine, others on tables, others placed precariously close to the window... it seemed like a hurricane of some sort had bombarded the room, launching it into disarray from whatever pristine state it had been in before.

Rarity, however, seemed completely calm in the face of such utter visual chaos; instead of frantically searching for her tools, much less her supplies, her magical aura accurately began to envelop various fabrics around the room as she trotted to its center, each of them seeming to be exactly what she desired while they made their way into her field of vision. Tentatively, you took a few steps within her realm, taking great care not to disturb any of her belongings; one of her tables seemed to be more organized than the others, and she set to work upon it, a haven of order imposing itself upon the artificial chaos that continuously threatened to enshroud it. In a way, it almost reminded you of home, or what was left of it, with its volatile exterior, while small pockets of attempted refuge would form; it soothed you, slightly, made you more at ease as, still in a careful matter, probed closer to the artist at work, just as she mentioned that she needed a few measurements. It took a few moments of her aura wrapping the tapes around you, and a few surprised notations, most likely on account of your rather small ones, particularly for a stallion, but afterwards she paid no mind, and returned to her craft.

Clearly, you were not experienced in such work, but she seemed completely at ease once the work began, pins between her lips as the sewing machine hummed in tune with its mistress; every slight shimmer of her horn floated over another color, or put another behind her in that carefully constructed mess, its intensity never waning as it kept making minor adjustments to her machine, who's tune shifted ever so slightly under her expert command. Not wanting to disturb her flow, however practiced it may be, you remained silent; time passed, and she asked a few questions at times, merely asking which colors you deemed more "you", a question that you tended to reply with the more somber colors she suggested. Soon enough, her table was devoid of any bright fabrics, while the fate of threads remained the same, minus a generic white. Absently, from time to time, a few more queries would make their way to your ears, such as "Chapeaus are terribly last season, I hope you are not too much of a fan?"; each time you replied 'correctly', each one earning a soft smile from the seamstress. Having apparently asked everything she wanted of you, at least for the foreseeable future, you were asked to wait outside for a few minutes, since the surprise was evidently what she desired, and so far she had not fully shown your eyes what the result would be, despite how long you had stood beside her; obliging, you trudged over in the same cautious fashion towards the door, waiting outside, patiently for what seemed like more than enough time for one garb, until she finally called you back.

What greeted you on the mannequin was... odd, in your experience; not only because it was stallion-wear modeled on a mare's mannequin, but it was because, rather than being filled with absurd amounts of jewels or in possession of so many attached feathers and long fabrics that it looked far too complicated to be clothing, her creation was much more simple, and far less deceptive. While it held the form of a normal suit, while being absent of a tie, it appeared to be a sort of canvas; the main fabric was dark blue, almost black, which encompassed the majority of the cloth, while small streaks of fading white, almost as if mist itself had crept into the room in your absence, and had put itself onto the cloth. Beneath the obscuring haze, on the side of the suit, small, shimmering gems made their home, lightly shining in some form of pattern; after a few seconds of concentration, you could vaguely see a quill, pointed tip against the page of what appeared to be a book, although it appeared as a constellation does, with the observer being forced to connect the dots to perceive anything but a random assortment. While your look may have said everything, with a light cough you were drawn back to reality, to be asked one rather simple, important question.

"Well, what do you think?" Her voice was expectant, although controlled, in a manner that showed only her desire for an honest response. As much as you, normally, despised clothing for such purpose, she had made hers seem more like a work of art; it was almost intimate, personal, and echoed those earlier feelings of organization within the haze of chaos... with a few steps, a little less cautious, and much more enraptured with how she managed it, you replied, in the most brutally honest manner you could. "It's... really pretty. I kinda thought you'd, well... make something so fancy it'd be sick, like everypony else does. But this is just so... I dunno, me, kind of..." Rarity's look, instantly shedding any doubt from its emotions, beamed for a moment, before her more refined aspect toned it down, showing, unlike you had thought, a still interested, but much more mild sense of satisfaction.

"Why, thank you; now, shall we see how it looks?" While she spoke there was a sense of confidence in her voice, but it didn't extent to cockiness or an inflated ego; it was simple knowing that she had pleased you, aesthetically. You walked over, allowing her to drape the suit over you, before her magic attached the buttons; it was snug, but not quite so to be uncomfortable, and while it was an unusual feeling, it was strangely welcome, almost warming in a way. The fabric itself wasn't displeasing, although it wasn't as good as the feel of air against your fur; a tolerable change, and not bad, just not perfect. "Thanks, Rarity..." Her name was awkward as it rolled off your tongue, having been repeated with so much hatred and judgement; perhaps she was truly an exception to the rule, or at least, a tolerable pony. She smiled, just as an idea surfaced in the depths of your mind; it was a gift, and if you looked good enough in it, perhaps it was worth hiding from Twilight, in the miraculous circumstances where it could be useful, even it if almost pained you to ask, let alone reflect on it, and your hesitant voice betrayed that to the mare before. "Um... could we maybe keep this a secret from Twilight? I-I'd like to surprise her with it... some other time."

As soon as you finished uttering that sentence your cheeks seemed to grow hotter, while Rarity's eyes sparkled with a slight gasp, only briefly covered by her hoof. "Oh, I knew that there was something between you two!" Was her quick reply, much to your worry, as your heart began to accelerate rapidly, each beat bringing you shorter breath; it was hard to think, let alone breathe, but while you shivered and Rarity seemed poised to strike with deadly questions, you sputtered the only reply you could muster. "I really like her... but I haven't really asked her anything yet. I'm gonna soon, and if you tell her you'll ruin it." You took a deep breath, while Rarity's interest didn't waiver in the slightest, although she seemed almost more involved than you as her eyes shifted slightly with every moment, although they were always centered on you, before her relieving answer graced your ears. "Oh, say not another word! We shall not speak of it further, oh, the secretive romance... do tell me how it goes, please?" With a loud sigh of relief, you started to calm down, thanking her profusely and agreeing to gossip after the fact, before she began to nearly beg for the juicy details of your plans; refusing, as politely as you could muster while she began to remove the garment from you, despite making her somewhat pouty, was a success.

While you remained at the boutique for the rest of the day, with Rarity asking your honest opinion on several of her designs, which had a similar sort of artist's vision in them; you replied that they were good, or variants of the words, much to her delight. Eventually, sometime after Rarity had served a light brunch, the sun began to dip; while you would actually have enjoyed, much to your surprise, staying longer, since Rarity's company was better than what you had expected, and even managed to garner a positive reaction from you, she, on the other hoof, was rather eager to send you home. Although the action was far from one of malice, as she could, somehow, see that you longed to put your plan into action; she prepared herself for an outing, a much longer preparation than Twilight had, since she claimed to have errands to perform afterwards. After a lengthy wait, which seemed more for her aesthetics than anything else, you departed towards Ponyville's library; there would be no confusion, as Rarity informed you that she had agreed to take you back, since Twilight was unsure if you could find your way back.

The chat along the way was scarce, although you were consistently asked if her mane was done right, or any of her multitude of accessories come loose; it was a tad annoying, but for her silence, it was worth putting up with. As you both came upon the library, you thanked her once more, exchanging soft smiles, before she wished you the best of luck; of all things, luck was the least of your concerns, but it was appreciated, a thought you made sure to verbalize. Once inside, Twilight came up to you after a few moments, eager to analyze and interpret whatever advances, or regressions, you had made; she had more work to do, in other areas, however, and even if she was reluctant, she suggested that you would do so tomorrow. With a smile, mostly one of nervousness, you agreed, before you retreated to your room, under the guise of being tired; which, granted, you were, but it was not as pressing as you made it seem. With the door closed, and Twilight's wish for a good night in your mind, however futile that wish was, you went to bed; while the sun was just setting, finally eclipsing itself in full from your view. With eyes shut, a soft sigh, and knowing what you had to do later, you tried to rest, while mentally sheltering yourself from such nightmares...

This time, there were no illusions, no sort of grand shock or unfortunate tale to spin awry in a cruel gesture of pure malice; the darkness was all you could see, although with every step forward it seemed to grow further, while your hooves resounded against the solid floor. It was eerie, but the lack of sudden changes throwing you off your mental balance was helpful in regaining control; somepony was mucking about in your mind, but it ended tonight. You had lost too much sleep to this realm, now turned personal Tartarus, and your sanity within it had wavered; the being controlling it was here, you could feel it, else the darkness would clear. After all, it had made itself known when it caused it in every previous dream, so it had to be here; taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself before crying out, determined to end this tonight. "Come out and face me, you coward! I'm done being pushed around by you, these are MY dreams!" Your voice echoed, bouncing off the blackened boundaries, into a starless void; you waited, with no indication of time, hoping for an answer...

"Very well then." The voice struck you with power, your legs quivering slightly as mist began to form, drifting inward just in front of you; it began to pile upon itself, dripping pieces of itself to the darkness below before it fully formed, solidifying into a form that you had heard of, but never managed to meet, for obvious reasons, and it was a meeting that you dreaded. The conclusion, in all its manner and aspects, was inevitable; finally, the pony who had been plaguing your dreams was before you, gazing down upon you in all her superiority. While your previous thoughts may have been erroneous, at least with Rarity, these ones were not; you gazed back at her, showing as little fear as you could, and she merely gazed back, neither of you speaking, while you thought of how to remove her from your sanctuary, and she thought of how to purge you from her realm, once and for all.