Revolutionary Fire

by Comrade_Pony

Chapters

• Prologue
• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Side Chapter 1: Celestia
• Chapter 9
• Side Chapter 2: Blueblood
• Chapter 10

Prologue

I still perfectly remember the exact moment before I went to Equestria, and I know I always will.

What I could never understand was why I remembered it. Certainly, it would have been an otherwise banal moment, if not for what directly followed it. Perhaps it was a slight shift in the air, or an indistinguishable sound. However, no matter how many times I analysed the moment in my mind, I could never discover the reason for why it is so clear.

Whatever the cause, I can recall everything—even the most insignificant of details—as if I were just there. I remember the weariness in my limbs from a particularly gruelling day at my job as a mechanical engineer, the book I was reading that had a slight crease at one corner, to even the faint ticking of the clock above the television and how I synchronised it with the drumming of my fingers against the arm of the chair I was sitting on.

Sometimes, when I shut my eyes, the memory is so real to me that I feel that all I need to do is open my eyes and I’ll be back home again. However, every time that I do, I awaken only to find that I am still stranded in this twisted world, with no hope that I could ever return home.

*****

One moment I was in my living room reading a book, and the next I was sprawled before a white horse which appeared to have both a horn and wings. It was not these features, or even her mane that appeared to blow on an ethereal wind, that startled me. Rather, it was that she was looking back at me with magenta eyes that sparkled with intelligence and an expression that quickly switched from shock to a reassuring smile as soon as she realised I was watching her.

Certainly if that left me startled, I was rendered practically comatose when she spoke to me in a motherly tone that promised understanding and kindness.

After more than a few moments where I was understandably unresponsive, the white horse, who introduced herself as Princess Celestia, managed to coax enough of a response out of me to enlighten me on my current situation.

She explained that she had been experimenting with portals, her reasoning behind it having something to do with the possibility of a new form of transportation for civilians. At her insistence that magic was real, it took another few minutes and a demonstration to calm me down enough to continue on with her explanation. However, something had gone awry and brought me to Equestria—the land she claimed to rule—a seemingly infinitesimal chance that it was I who was chosen.

She promised and gave her assurance that she would make every attempt in her power to return me to Earth. In exchange, she required for me to make a promise of my own: to remain in a private suite at the castle, as to not provoke panic amongst her subjects. Despite my solitude to be necessary in the name of the public good, I could not deny that I was disappointed that I would be unable to see all that the new world had to offer, all the sights and experiences that would be alien to me.

Quickly, she bade the two guards stationed at the door to enter. When they first caught sight of me, I could see the panic that engulfed them for a split second before their military training reasserted itself. Despite this, their stances spoke volumes of how suspicious they were of me, forcing Celestia to spend a few moments reassuring them of my trustworthiness, resulting in a noticeable relaxation of both of their postures.

From here, Celestia and I—along with the two guards—stealthily made our way through the enormous empty corridors of the castle, never once encountering another living soul. I later found out that I arrived in the middle of the night and most of the staff had long since retreated to the servants’ quarters to sleep.

Eventually, we arrived at our destination, spacious suite that would house me for the remainder of my stay. It was here that the princess made the two guards swear an oath on the ‘Eternal Sun’ that they would not reveal what had transpired that night.

The next two weeks of my life were spent entirely in those suites, which whilst sizeable, grew more and more claustrophobic as the days wore on. To combat my boredom I had my two guards, the same as those that accompanied me on my very first night in Equestria, bring me a constant stream of books from the Royal Library. It was from these that I attempted to glean any knowledge that I could about the world that I had found myself in.

Dispersed in-between my scholarly pursuits were moments of intense fear and homesickness as I thought about my family and the worry that they must have been experiencing. Though I tried to ignore my emotions by throwing myself even harder into my reading, I could only hold them off for so long until they broke through from my control. Whenever this happened all I could do was wait for them to pass, though that was hardly any comfort to me as my families faces flashed through my mind and the hollowness of the reassurances given to me suddenly became so obvious.

Occasionally, Celestia herself visited, and we would talk for a short time, though the topics themselves always seemed to focus entirely on my life and humanity, with Celestia always steering the conversation away from herself at the first opportunity. Sometimes, I would ask for her to provide context or clarification on something I had read about, and in those cases she normally seemed happy to answer.

The only time where I provoked a reaction other than her motherly and accommodating cheerfulness was when I asked her about why she was only a princess rather than a queen. Suddenly, her serene state seemed to drain away, and her facial expression morphed into one of sorrow. After that, I couldn’t provoke much of a response from her, and she departed shortly thereafter. I didn’t see her again until she had to tell me the bad news.

Despite all of her attempts to send me home, it was all in vain. Celestia explained that due to the near infinity of the universe, it was statistically impossible for her to replicate the exact conditions that would open a portal back to my home world and whilst she had tried every conceivable means to circumvent this, nothing proved successful. If nothing else it definitely appeared that she had been working hard, the dark rings under her eyes that were clearly visible despite her coat was evidence enough.

Naturally, I was shocked by this information. For the next week, I was barely able to function, reduced to a pathetic wreck that I was ashamed of even as I allowed it to happen. In my mind, I continually went over everything that I had lost, and the pain that my parents and friends would undoubtedly experience over my unexplainable disappearance.

To make matters worse, as the week continued, I began to experience progressively more violent bouts of nausea compounded by a growing lethargy that left me tired most days, even when I had only just gotten out of bed. Even more worrying, I began to notice that every time I would wash, clumps of my hair would fall out.

However, my mourning was eventually interrupted one day, when I was called before the princess. It was at this moment that my story truly began, and it was also the one that set me on the path I now walk. 

Perhaps if Celestia had not done to me what she planned to do at that audience, I would have looked over the many injustices and tyranny that plagued this world and lived out what little remained of my life happy and departed peacefully in my sleep. But, that was not the case, and so I must do what I can to save it.

Chapter 1

We swear before Celestia’s guiding light to stand forever loyal to those who we protect and forever vigilant against those that would desire to rob us of our prosperity.

―Excerpt of loyalty oath all nobles take when first recruited into the Royal Guard or when receiving the rank of a commissioned officer in the Equestrian Army.

I was awoken from my fitful slumber by a continuous knocking at the door of my suite. Pushing myself up from the bed with a groan, I begrudgingly made my way over to the vanity mirror that was directly opposite my bed. My reflection within could only possibly be described as ghastly. There were clear dark rings under my eyes: a side effect of the number of nights I had recently spent tossing and turning.

Moving on, I took note of my recently formed beard, my scraggly facial hair seeming unreal to me even as I ran my fingers through it, after having gone clean-shaven for my entire life. To complete the image, my brown hair stuck up at a multitude of different angles, whilst at some places the whiteness of my cranium could be seen, patches where my hair loss was particularly severe.

To compound my bedraggled appearance, my clothes, consisting of a simple t-shirt and a comfortable pair of jeans, were rumpled and unwashed. I could also detect the pungent smell of body odor, no doubt because of my neglect towards personal hygiene the last few days. The lack of replacement clothes was due to myself insisting there was no point in creating new ones, when I would be returning home soon enough.

To add to this, I was growing more and more worried about my sickness, as the days wore on. At my last meeting with Celestia about three day ago, I had mentioned it, prompting her to run a series of magical scans on me at her insistence. The result of this left me feeling so sick I had to spend the next hour crouched over the toilet in a valiant but fruitless attempt to hold down my previous meal.

Her reaction to this was not encouraging. A look of intense worry engulfed her features, and she hurriedly excused herself on some flimsy pretence about having to meet up with some noble named Prince Blueblood.

At these thoughts, the tide of sorrow and worry within me threatened to spill over, and I began to feel my eyes growing hot.

In an attempt to stave off another bout of pain and self-pity, I quickly exited the bedroom, strode over to the door and wrenched it open with more force than was entirely necessary.

Staring back at me, his hoof raised ready to begin another round of knocking, was one of the two guards that were assigned to me. I still had no idea which one he was, as every guard I had seen so far—all two of them—had somehow been given a standardized appearance. Everything about them looked exactly the same, from their snow white coats, dark blue manes and tails, to their wings that emerged through specially designed openings in their armour. Even their heights—from what I could tell—were the same, though I still towered over them in comparison. The only pony I had met that was the same height as me was Celestia herself, something that I think she saw as a bit of a novelty.

“Joshua,” he spoke in a low rumble, “your presence has been requested before Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia.”

His voice set him apart. Now I could tell that this was Shieldwing, which meant that it was Blade Storm who was standing to his left, scanning the corridor for any signs of unwanted attention.

Certainly, this summons was unusual. I had never been directly called by Celestia before. Even when she failed in finding me a way home, she’d come to my chambers, rather than making me come to her.

“Sure,” I replied, attempting to mask the uncertainty in my voice, “Can you give me a moment to get cleaned up, and make myself look respectable?”

“Unfortunately not. The request is urgent, and cannot be delayed for any reason,” he replied, his tone providing no chance for argument.

Now this was certainly odd, but I shrugged it off. Perhaps she had discovered a way to send me home after all, or at least had some news on my mysterious ailment.

As soon as the thought had entered my mind, I quickly quashed it. I didn’t want to go and get my hopes up, only to have them dashed a few moments later. I had only just begun to feel better emotionally, if not physically.

Luckily, my stomach felt as settled as it could possibly be nowadays, leaving me feeling slightly better than usual. I still felt lethargic, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been in the past, probably owing to the fact that I had only just awoken. However, things were not helped by the restless nights that had plagued me recently. In my dreams, I was constantly haunted by half-formed ghosts that cried out for their lost son.

Forcing the memory away, I gave a nod in consent gingerly stepping out of the doorway in the process. Shutting the door behind me, all my previous frustration, anger, and uncertainty left, forgotten in the face of my curiosity over what was going on. I was fairly nervous to be outside again; I hadn’t left my room since my arrival, the reason being my complete incapacitation by grief and sickness. Granted, I still wouldn’t have left due to Celestia’s desire—and my promise—to not reveal myself to the general public, until she deemed it safe for me to do so.

The trip to Celestia was even stranger, as neither of the two guards said a word. This wasn’t unusual for Blade Storm, who I didn’t think had said anything to me beyond what was necessary for my entire time in Equestria. However, this was strange for Shieldwing, who always seemed to be willing to talk about whatever came into his head at every available opportunity, even providing words of sympathy and comfort over my loss or illness whenever I needed them. His presence had been one of the few beacons of light among the rather dark times I had been going through lately.

After walking at a rather brisk pace for a couple of minutes, we eventually arrived at a rather impressive set of arched doors. They appeared to be solid gold, or at least gold plated. A crest  in their direct center showed a large blazing sun; no doubt representing who dwelled within.

Swiftly, Shieldwing and Blade Storm pulled both of the doors open with their mouths, and stood at attention on each side, waiting for me to pass through.

At this point, my curiosity was beginning to give way to nervousness over just what was going on. Thousands of possibilities were running through my mind over what exactly Celestia wanted with me. They ranged from making preparations to introduce me into the public, to even exploring other means to send me home. 

A dark part of me even whispered that perhaps she was going to get rid of me; after all, it would be easier to eliminate me entirely rather than having to waste time and money to fully integrate me into Equestrian society.

I quickly dismissed the idea, after all from what I had read—and indeed witnessed—I knew that Celestia was nothing but a kind and benevolent leader, who only wanted the best for those under her sovereignty, which now included me for better or worse. Besides, if you ruled for a thousand years, everyone must be pretty happy with your rule; and the literature on you would have a pretty clear grasp on your character.

As soon as I entered the room, I gaped in awe. Everything within,from the stained glass windows to the marble columns spoke of opulence, wealth, and grandeur.

The windows caught my attention, particularly those to my right, at least two of which depicted a group of six ponies defeating various villains. Were these the so-called Element Bearers, whom I had read about? Certainly, they caught my attention, as they only ever seemed to be mentioned if the book in question was published very recently.

It wasn’t necessarily the contents of the images that interested me, rather it was the fact that there seemed to be plain windows directly following these ones, as if Celestia was expecting for them to enact more heroics that would warrant immortality in stained glass form.

I was startled out of my detailed inspection of the hall by the sound of the doors shutting behind me. Though it was done as softly as the heavy doors could possibly allow, the noise was still thunderous in the cavernous hall, and made me practically jump out of my skin.

I caught sight of Celestia standing on a raised dais at the other end of the hall. As I made my way over to her, I was still astounded by just how godlike she actually looked. Though I hadn’t consciously known it when I first met her, it was very apparent from the books I had read that the princess was considered the Goddess of the Sun in Equestria. I could agree with this sentiment.

Whilst back on Earth I was never a religious man, I could clearly recognise the aura of divinity and power that radiated from her. Everything about her seemed to contribute to this: from the ethereal quality of her mane and tail, to the jewellery that was undoubtedly symbolized her station. Even the way that she held herself played a role in this. Moreover, there was just some indistinguishable factor about her that somehow projected her godlike character onto me, without seemly providing any distinguishable form of sensory information.

What, or rather who, caught my attention after I had spent a few moments staring captivated at Celestia—as I was prone to do, whenever I found myself in her company—was the slightly smaller alicorn standing at her side. She was Princess Luna, the prodigal sister, whom I had read about, though had never met personally, in some of the recently published material—or republished material, from volumes that were over a thousand years old—and was often mentioned in the same sentence as the Elements of Harmony.

The most recent thing I had read about her was a rather amusing interview she had given for the Equestria Daily, the premier paper in Equestria. It was titled “An Evening with the Princess” in which the interviewer seemed to ask only the most fickle of questions. The author, Hot Scoop, made quite plain her resounding support for the princess, flying in the face of public opinion. Within, she attempted to play up the readership’s sympathies for the princess, even though she had attempted a coup against her sister no more than a few years previously. 

She had her own set of royal regalia very similar in style to Celestia’s, but instead having on the gorget a crescent moon mirroring her Cutie Mark, in place of Celestia’s gem. She also seemed to project a similar air of divinity as her sister. Though hers spoke more of distance and serenity, in contrast to Celestia’s inclusive and warm aura.

Everything about her seemed to reflect her status as goddess of the night, from her midnight blue coat to her mane, which seemed to contain thousands of pinpricks of light, a perfect mirror to the night sky of which she claimed sovereignty.

Whilst Celestia appeared to wear the calming smile she always had when I was near, it appeared that Luna held a much more neutral opinion on me as her mouth was set in a hard line, and her expression betrayed little of what she was thinking.

As soon as I had reached an appropriate distance from both of them, I immediately came to a stop and bowed, not so deep as to seem feeble, but not too shallow to be rude. To perform this took an admirable feat of mental effort on my part, as the more feral part of my brain was screaming at me to run away from them as fast as I could manage. The only thing stopping me was a mixture of my own personal pride and my own opinions on the validity of monarchy as a governmental system, which I had made certain, so far, to refrain from voicing.

Celestia and I had been in much more informal situations together, but even then there was a small part of me that was uncomfortable being in such close proximity to a being so ancient, and who could undoubtedly kill me with little effort. This nagging voice in my head was quickly silenced, in every occasion, by the constant kind smile she seemed to wear.

“Joshua Ford,” Celestia spoke, her voice much more formal than I was used to, “My sister and I, in light of the events that have recently occurred, have decided to bestow on you a gift.”

At the mention of a gift, my beating heart, previously spurned on by the princesses’ tone of voice, began to relax to a more normal rate. Perhaps Celestia was trying to appease her own conscience.

“‘Tis true,” Luna spoke, her voice carrying a tone that spoke of etiquette and language from days long past, “This gift shall allow for thyself to avoid death that stalks thou even now; and will have the added benefit of allowing thyself to walk amongst our subjects unhindered by thy appearance, but instead be welcomed as a fellow.”

By this point, I was totally confused and worried. After all, Luna had just plainly stated that I was currently in danger of dying, perhaps on account of my sickness. Or, maybe they were instead planning on granting me immortality? I had read they had done that for some relative of theirs, someone the papers named Mi Amore Cadenza.  

Compounding my confusion was her statement that their gift would also allow me to walk amongst the ponies without provoking a major response. Simply put, my logical thought processes were completely unsuccessful in suggesting any possible action the sisters could take that could cause both these effects at the same time.

“We have decided that we will employ our magic’s to alter you into a pony,” Celestia spoke.

“WHAT?!” I shouted, as panic began to rise in my chest, “I don’t want to be a pony! I’m happy as I am!”

“I know this, Joshua; but you must understand. The nausea and fatigue that you have been experiencing over the past week are the symptoms of acute magical poisoning, caused by your sudden exposure to the magic that permeates all of Equestria. Normally, your level of acute poisoning is found in magical researchers who are exposed to intense magical energies during their studies, if a spell backfires. However, with your world’s apparent lack of magic, it appears that your body is incapable of withstanding the background magic of our world. If we do not change you into a form that is accustomed to that magic, then you will only be able to survive for another year, at most. Even then, you will spend the majority of that year bedridden, and in severe discomfort.”

“Isn’t there something less extreme you could do?” I questioned, attempting to keep my voice as level as possible even as fear threatened to engulf me.

Celestia grimaced at my poorly hidden discomfort, and softly replied, “I’m sorry Joshua. For you, there is not a cure. Whilst I could remove the magical energy for a short time, that would not alter your weakness to it. Any improvement caused by the procedure would only last for an instant before you would be, once again, magically overexposed simply by being in this world. For your problem there is no other countermeasure.”

“I’m sorry too, Celestia.” I shook my head, a strange sense of calm overtaking me as I accepted my fate, “I won’t be anything else besides human, if that means I need to die to ensure that, then so be it.”

Celestia’s revelation that I would be dead in a year scared me. Despite this, the thought that I would be twisted and changed into something that I was not, in the process losing my very humanity, sounded like something out of my worst nightmare, and I was willing to avoid that no matter what the cost to myself. All thoughts on the consequences of my choice had left me as I could only focus on avoiding what Celestia was proposing.

When I made this announcement, a look of resolve seemed to overtake Celestia as she remained quiet for a short time before she opted to make a reply to my wishes. 

With a voice heavy with guilt, she spoke, “Then I am sorry, Joshua, for your view on this, but I cannot allow for you to throw your life away, simply because of your aversion to the solution. I’m afraid that you have no choice in the matter.”

By the time Celestia had finished speaking, all logical thought had left my head as my fight or flight responses had kicked in. I already knew that with the princesses’ power there would be no way to fight them—and even then I would be going towards those that wanted to change me. Rather, my instincts told me that I needed to get as far away as possible and hide.

In a burst of speed that surprised even me, I spun around and began sprinting to the doorway from which I had entered. Not even bothering to slow down, I instead faced the doorway with my right shoulder in the hope that it would have been left unlocked.

Unfortunately, my attempts were in vain as whilst I hit the door with considerable force it did not change that it was both heavy, made of metal and most importantly, locked. Bouncing backwards, I fell down onto the ground, the back of my head impacting rather forcibly in the process. Thankfully the impact was cushioned by the soft carpet, saving me from what would have undoubtedly been a nasty head injury. For a moment, I lay there dazed as my right shoulder throbbed in time with the blood thundering in my ears.

Ignoring the pain, I quickly pulled myself up and renewed my efforts to open the door. This time I relied on jerking the handles in a futile attempt to get them to open, though this soon devolved into me desperately pounding my fist into its unwavering mass.

Forced to consider another option, I glanced back towards the dais where it appeared that the two sisters had yet to move at all, though their eyes seemed to bore into me. However, I could have sworn I detected a hint of sadness in both of the princesses’ eyes. Luckily I once again noticed the stained glass windows that lined the room. I was unsure just how high up I was but I was willing to take a gamble that I would survive rather than simply give up and accept ponification. Taking a few steps back, I quickly began to accelerate towards a stained glass window that appeared to depict a bearded purple unicorn wearing a ludicrously decorated cape and hat.

When I was only a couple of meters from the window, I launched myself into the air, tightly shutting my eyes in anticipation of the impact. After a few seconds had past I had yet to feel anything, not the impact with the glass or wind whipping past my face. Tentatively reopening my eyes I was greeted by Celestia’s golden magical aura that now engulfed me. 

As I drifted back towards the dais where two sisters still resided, I realised that I had been at their mercy as soon as I had entered the room. Even now, though I knew that I was trapped, I still struggled against Celestia’s magic as I wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

When I was once again in the spot where I had stood just before I began my escape attempts, Celestia addressed me again. Although, this time it appeared that the sisters were not allowing any further attempts at escape, as Celestia kept me levitated about a meter above the ground.

“Joshua,” Celestia spoke, “you must understand, I do this because I know that this is the best for you. Even if you do not recognise it now, you will thank me sometime in the future”.

Even now, the look on Luna’s face remained neutral, an expression shared by her sister. For that, I hated them both, that they could remain so calm as they prepared to change me against my will. My entire being coursed with hatred as words came unbidden to me.

“Let me go, now!” I yelled out in rage, “You have no right to do this! I swear, Celestia, I will make you sorry for this! Let me out of your goddamned magic. I will ki—. ”

Abruptly, my ranting was cut short when the golden glow that surrounded me clamped over my mouth with considerable force, preventing me from opening it and reducing all that I had left to say to incoherent mumbles, though I still attempted to make as much noise as I possibly could.

“Luna,” Celestia suddenly spoke, her tone betraying the amount of concentration that she needed to exert to keep me captive, “I need you to help me remove his clothes, to prevent them from interfering with the spell.”

Luna’s own telekinetic glow—cobalt blue in colour—shortly joined Celestia’s and began tugging at my clothes. Her attempts betrayed her inexperience at dealing with clothing, particularly pants, as she opted to simply force them off of my legs without first undoing the fly or button. At every possible chance, I attempted to prevent the removal of my clothes; I kept my arms down by my sides, my knees bent, and my fingers through the belt loops of my jeans. Yet again, my attempts at resistance were thwarted, when Celestia’s magic drew me even closer to her, preventing me from moving at all and allowing her to manipulate my limbs to assist Luna.

Eventually, I was left completely naked without even the means to protect my decency as I was still immobile from Celestia’s magic. All I could feel at this moment was rage, completely drowning out all of my fear and embarrassment, that only grew worse every passing second as my immobile and mute state prevented me from even being able to express it.

Suddenly, both of their horns began to glow brighter and brighter, until they were so luminous that it was like I was staring directly into the sun. Despite the discomfort and the watering of my eyes, I forced myself to glare at Celestia, projecting at her all of my rage and terror. I simply refused to wait quietly for the fate that had been chosen for me without putting in some form of resistance—no matter how minimal—to the very end.

Through my anger, I slowly became aware of a strange sensation all over my body, as if innumerable needles were pricking at my skin. This sensation sent a spear of panic through me which served to extinguish a modicum of my fury. Fueled by a mixture of terror and horror, I began to struggle with all the strength I could marshal against Celestia’s telekinetic field in a vain attempt to ward off the magic that was altering me.

As the process continued, I began to notice that my body was beginning to ache all over. As time went on, this ache steadily grew worse and worse, slightly increasing at an almost indistinguishable rate. The only true suggestion of the pain rising was my slowly shrinking capacity for intellectual thought.

Eventually, I was in such agony that my entire reality was constricted to my mind bracing for each new wave of pain washing over me. Throughout this, I could feel my body beginning to alter as my bones, muscles, and organs reconstituted themselves to fit an equine build.

As the time between waves slowly began to meld together, the small enclave in my mind that held on became aware of someone screaming. When the next wave of agony came, I began to feel the bones in my face push forward and remould into a muzzle. The sound of my creaking bones was accompanied by the screams steadily increasing in volume as the process continued. It was then that I realised, with a start, that the screaming was emanating from me, the magical gag doing little to reduce its volume. As soon as the realisation dawned, my own screams became the only thing that I could focus on, becoming all that left to my conscious mind to provide any form of relief from the pain, each scream a pitiful attempt to expel it from my body.

By this point, my torment had become so great that I had completely abandoned my feeble escape endeavour, though I still thrashed within Celestia’s telekinetic field with the strength of a desperate man as my instincts attempted any means to escape from what was causing me such pain. Eventually, it became so great that when yet another wave crashed over me, it was accompanied by the black void of unconsciousness. As the blessed darkness overtook me, I still screamed and thrashed to the very last moment, the pain of my existence intermingling with my uncontrollable rage for all the wrong that had been done to me.

Chapter 2

The secret of freedom lies in educating people, whereas the secret of tyranny is in keeping them ignorant.

―Maximillien Robespierre, prominent politician of the French Revolution and architect of the Reign of Terror.

The first thing that I could recall after my bout of unconsciousness was waking suddenly with a start in my room. For a moment I allowed myself to relax with my eyes closed, safe in the knowledge that my transformation into a pony was nothing but a terrible and vivid nightmare. However, my ignorant bliss was interrupted when I reached my hand up with the intention to brush my fingers through my hair, only to find instead that it was impossible for me to feel my fingers or even move them apart.

Already, a part of me knew that what I believed only a moment ago to be a dream was in fact cold reality. Despite this, I was still reluctant to open my eyes and confront what I would undoubtedly find. When I had finally summoned the courage, I was greeted with a stump where my hand had previously resided. Fighting down the scream that bubbled up from my throat and instead reducing it to a whimper, I tightly shut my eyes and prayed to God that this wasn’t really happening to me. After an indistinguishable amount of time, though the darkness that remained in the sky when I first awoke had long been banished, I once again forced myself to open my eyes and take stock of my situation. Looking at my furry stump, it was clear that my pony self had a coat that was a dark blue.

At that moment, my only coherent thought was to get to a mirror as quickly as I possibly could. After I had struggled out from under the blankets and wiggled my way over to the edge of the bed, I realised that I didn’t really know how to properly get off of the bed and onto my hooves at the same time. I opted to simply roll out, which seemed to be effective enough, as I managed to plant all four of my feet onto the floor without much difficulty.

Even though I had been able to stand up, making it over to the mirror still proved a significant challenge. I had no idea in what order I needed to move my new legs to be able to move forward. Rather oddly, one of the things that I found myself thinking at this conundrum was how much easier this problem would be if I had instead focused on the biological side of engineering rather than the mechanical.

Even as I lifted my front right foreleg and attempted to take my first step forward, I knew that this wasn’t going to work properly. I had to pause for several moments in order to conclude what leg I needed to move next. I opted to move my back right hoof, followed by my front left and then my back left.

By repeating this pattern, I was able to make my agonizingly slow way over to the mirror that was positioned in such a way as to be impossible to see until I was standing directly in front of it. Even though I had developed a walking cycle that was serviceable, there were still a number of points where I nearly tripped myself up in my own clumsiness. I also had to pause for a short time along the way, to properly sort the jumbled signals that were being sent to my brain.

I winced every time my hooves clicked on the hard stone floor. Not only was it startling for my body to be making such a sound, it also served as an ever-present reminder of what I had been forced through. The sound, coupled with my frustration of being incapable of even just walking across the room, caused my anger to grow with every step.

My rage was replaced with dumb shock, however, when I finally reached the mirror. I stared at it for several moments before my brain was able to fully process that I was indeed looking back at my own reflection rather than some image of a random pony.

What disconcerted me most about it, was that nearly everything about my new face and body was completely different to what I had before, even the hair colour. In place of my normally brown hair was a mane and tail that was jet black. On top of this was the fact that I appeared to be slightly taller than the average pony’s height, if Shieldwing and Blade Storm were accurate indicators. My build also seemed to be on the thin side, a complete contrast to my normally average height and build.

The only things about me that was even remotely similar were my irises, which remained a moss green. However, even this was wrong as the eyes that they were housed in were enormous, leaving them as an island of familiarity in a sea of the unknown.

The only other thing that I was grateful for was the fact that I appeared to be an Earth Pony. Certainly whilst it would have been nice to fly or use magic, I don’t think that my mind would be able to process an entirely new set of limbs, or the ability to manipulate a force of nature that only a month ago I would have found the possibility for its existence to be ridiculous. At least this way, I was similar to a human.

My shocked gazing at the mirror was interrupted when there were a few short knocks at the door before I heard it open followed by the unmistakable sound of hooves on the marble floor.

As they grew closer, I began to panic on who it was that was coming for me without at least offering the courtesy to wait for me to give my consent before entering the room.

When I looked at the doorway, I saw the last pony I wanted to see. The second that I laid my eyes on her all of the rage and pain that I felt came flooding back to me in a single moment. There was Princess Celestia, looking at me with the same calming smile she always wore, seeming to be completely ignorant of my hatred for her, and the pain she had caused me. Upon seeing her face, my rage simply exploded and drowned out all of my fear of her, both my primordial fear of her power and my learned fear from yesterday. All I knew was that I wanted to wipe that smile off of her face and make her feel even a modicum of the pain that she imparted onto me.

Letting out a bestial snarl, I attempted to launch myself at her with as much force as I could possibly muster. My legs abandoned me on this endeavour as the tensing of my body to prepare for the leap caused me to lose my balance resulting in a tumble to the cold, hard floor.

Even at that setback, I still refused to simply release this opportunity for revenge and began crawling toward her in much the same manner as an infant would.

Before I could close even half of the distance between us, I was engulfed once again by her golden aura which promptly halted my attempt to reach her.

“Please calm yourself,” she spoke, her tone not betraying even a hint of nervousness at being approach by a half mad individual, “I know that you are angry at me, but I am only here to make sure you are okay and then I will leave you alone.”

Understandably, I was cautious at this but I knew that for the moment it would be impossible to reach her, let alone hurt her, so it would probably be best to co-operate to get her away from me as quickly as possible no matter how hard my anger screamed at me to keep struggling to reach her.

Giving her a nod of permission—I could not bring myself to speak to her—I was quickly transported back onto the bed where the next few minutes were spent with me trying my very best to control myself as Celestia examined me both with her eyes and magical senses just out of my reach.

“I’m sorry that the transformation was so painful Joshua,” Celestia uttered apologetically, “but the complexity of the magical weave prevented us from including a spell that would numb the pain.”

Choosing not to respond to her I instead opted to stew in my anger as Celestia continued to perform tests on me to ensure that my transformation was successful.

“So I take it that you are pleased with your cutie mark then?” she spoke suddenly , interrupting the terse silence and disarming me with the randomness of her question.

Certainly I was shocked by this statement, as I had assumed that I would not have one. I had completely neglected to check to see if one was present. It made sense, after all. If the entire point of Celestia’s plan was to allow me to live in an environment inundated with magic, I should be affected by it just the same as all of the others.

Turning my head I did not at all expect to see what I had pictured there. It was a ball of yarn with two needles sticking through it, which was about as far as one could get from mechanical engineering as possible.

The shock of this revelation made me completely forget my previous assertion to not speak to the princess at all.

“Why is it a ball of yarn and needles?” I spoke, the disbelief quite plain in my voice.

“Well,” She smiled back, “I can only assume that it is because your special talent is knitting.”

At her blatant disregard for my own intelligence by talking to me if I was a child, my anger began to flare up again, though I quickly brought it back under control to allow me to continue with my questioning.

“But I don’t like sewing, I haven’t once even entertained the notion to attempt it. I’m a mechanical engineer, not a goddamned tailor for Christ’s sake!”

“That career clearly was not what you were meant to do,” Celestia said, “cutie marks embody what a pony will be best at, based on their inner essence. In your case, it seems that you would be best at being a textile artist.”

For a minute, all I could do was sit stunned at what I was hearing. In the past, I had read about cutie marks, and how they appeared when a pony discovered their “special talent”. However, by having myself transformed into a pony, rather than being born as one, revealed something much more sinister about the whole thing. All the books that I had read on the subject had, in some form or another, explained how every single pony had endless possibilities for what cutie mark they would receive until they discovered something that they were good at and made them happy. Instead, by taking into account the information I had just received from Celestia, it appeared that all ponies had a predetermined “destiny” from birth, based on their inner essence—which I could only take to mean genetic makeup—which they would eventually discover in the natural course of their lives.

“Cutie marks are an indicator of a pony’s role in society aren’t they?” I whispered, less of a question and more of a voicing of my own horror.

“That’s a rather cold way of putting it,” Celestia spoke with a soft laugh, “I think of it as letting a pony know where it is in the world that they belong, and what it is that will make them happy.”

“But what if a pony doesn’t like their special talent, what if they’re not content with it?” My voice rising to a more audible volume as the information began to sink in.

“Joshua, I assure you that is impossible. A mark will always ensure that a pony is happy with their destiny. You too will feel its effects soon enough, just as I did when they were first brought into the world by my mother.”

At this admission that I could be controlled so easily, I began to feel panic rising in my chest. Soon enough my cutie mark would ensure that I would be complacent in the role that my genes selected for me even if at the moment I was not.

Sensing my rapidly growing inability to talk further, Celestia chose that moment to leave. When she had passed through the archway of the door however she stopped for a second as if suddenly remembering something and turned to face me again.

“One final thing,” she spoke, “your name.”

“My name?” I echoed, my current state preventing me from formulating a more direct question.

“Yes, I fear that it doesn’t really fit your new pony build, so I think that a new one would be appropriate. If you wish to still go by Joshua as a nickname, I can understand that. But when speaking with those that you don’t know, I strongly advise that you go by the name of Clickety Clack. After all, your transformation was partially for the purpose of aiding your integration into pony society, and it would be silly to go by a non-pony name wouldn’t it?”

As she once again turned to leave, a final question escaped my lips.

“Why did you do this to me, Celestia?” I asked, as my emotions seemed to drain away under the realisation of the sheer weight of the events that had recently befallen me.

At the question the smile on Celestia’s face was suddenly replaced with a hard line as she seemingly took additional time to articulate an answer.

“Joshua, it was not easy for me,” she replied, sorrow entering her voice, “but you must understand that if I did not you would have died.”  

At her answer I simply could not control my anger any longer and I found myself shouting at her at the top of my lungs.

“I don’t care, Celestia! It would have been better to die as myself, than be transformed into this... thing!” As I shouted I shoved my two front hooves into her face as I continued. “Look at these, Celestia! You’ve mutilated me, you cut off my hands and left me with these stumps! You took away my very humanity and denied me any choice in the matter and for what?! To satisfy your own conscience, after it was your carelessness that brought me here?!”

All throughout my tirade Celestia sat staring at me as her features betrayed little emotion. Once I had finished I collapsed exhausted onto my bed as bitter tears came unbidden to my eyes.

As soon as she witnessed my sorrow, Celestia immediately rushed to my side to comfort me. I pushed her off and quickly looked away, all my fear of her divinity forgotten. Thankfully, this made her get the message that I didn’t want to be around her any longer. Shortly afterwards, I heard the sound of her golden shoes on the floor slowly making their way away from me.

As I turned to see her depart I could see little indication of any impact that my words had had on her as she still seemed to maintain the same regal bearing and pace that she always exhibited, obviously my plight being of little consequence to a being as powerful as her. My spiteful thoughts were quickly discarded when she turned to face me a final time and I could see a single tear beginning to roll down her face.

Upon seeing this image for the first time since my transformation, I did not feel anger when I saw her, only sorrow.

“Celestia,” I called, so softly, I half expected her not to hear it. As she turned I could see a glimmer of hope entering in her eyes.

“I understand why you did what you did, but I never wanted this,“ I said, my voice carrying resolve in it that offered no alternative, “It was your own fault that brought me here, Celestia, and I was the one made to pay for your mistakes. You took my right to choose, and warped me into something that is nothing like what I am. I can never forgive you for what you have done to me, Celestia, and I’m afraid that I will probably hate you for the rest of my life.”

Pausing for a moment, I attempted to swallow the rather large lump that was lodged in my throat before I completed my speech.

“I don’t want you to come see me again. Once I am finally able to actually function properly, I will leave this place, and we will never see each other again. Understand?”

Nodding slowly Celestia once again resumed her practiced walk out of my rooms. When I finally heard the door softly shut behind her, I allowed the courage that had filled me briefly to depart as I cried myself to sleep.

Chapter 3

To stand valiantly against those that dwell in darkness.

―Motto of House Shield; whose ancestors were elevated to nobility for their distinguished service, during the final battle of the Nightmare Rebellion.

A few hours later, I was reluctantly brought back into the land of the living, by someone shaking me rather roughly whilst calling my name. My real name, not some fake pony one. The gruff voice told me that the offending pony was Shieldwing.

Opening my eyes a crack, I was greeted by the guard, looking at me with his characteristic wide grin plastered on his face.

“Well look at you, Mr. Pony Man,” He declared with his usual tone of brashness, “decided to join the herd after all.”

At Shield’s not-so-subtle reminder of the series of events that had befallen me the previous day, I once again began to feel my sadness and betrayal weigh down on me. Though I fought it off as best I could, out of a sense of manly reluctance to cry in front of another guy.

Clearly, I did a poor job of this, as Shieldwing immediately seemed to notice something off about me.

“Hey, is everything alright?” he questioned, in a gentle voice, or at least what could be considered gentle for him.

His simple question broke my resolve, and I was quickly engulfed with sorrow. A strangled sob escaped me, and I felt warm tears begin to streak their way through my fur, a foreign sensation that only made me feel even more miserable.

Immediately Shieldwing rushed to comfort me. However, it was clear that he had little experience in it as he remained awkwardly standing at my bedside, doing nothing besides patting my shoulder and saying that everything would be okay.

Eventually I had calmed down enough that I was able to tell Shield everything that had happened to me since we had last seen each other. After getting everything out I felt a little bit better, though it clearly shocked Shieldwing, as he stared back at me with his mouth agape.

“Wow, buddy, that’s rough,” he managed to say, after giving his head a firm shake to clear it. “You must feel pretty awful right now, anything that I can do?”

“Actually, there are two things,” I replied, with a watery smile, “first, could you possibly get me something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Sure, hold on. I’ll run to the kitchens right now, and get you something. Just sit tight.”

Hastily, Shieldwing exited the room, without even giving me the chance to voice my second request. I was left alone, with nothing but my own thoughts. In the time that I waited for him to return, I attempted some breathing exercises that I had picked up back in my university days. They always seemed to be able to calm me down. Slowly, as I performed these exercises, I could feel my emotions beginning to focus, as I brought them back under my control. However, even once I had achieved this, I could still feel my anger at my transformation and cutie mark lingering just beneath the surface of my self control; ready at any moment to break through and wreak havoc.

Once I had done this, I occupied my time staring at the wall, whilst reciting famous quotes over and over in my head. I attempted to forestall heavier thoughts from entering my head, as in my current fragile state, they would no doubt shatter my hard earned self control and leave me a crying wreck or an uncontrollable scion of rage.

Luckily, there was no time for this to happen; shortly, Shieldwing re-entered the room with, a tray clenched in his teeth.

Thankfully, Shield had foreseen—or perhaps it was simply blind luck—that I wouldn’t be too keen to test the effectiveness of my imposed new taste buds and digestive system, and instead opted for a large, but simple, fruit salad and a glass of orange juice. It was a meal that I had eaten a lot of for the duration of my stay in Equestria, owing to the restriction that my previous biology placed on a number of traditional pony dishes, many of which normally included hay.

As I stared at the meal, I could feel my mouth watering and my stomach rumbling, and I was reminded just how hungry I was. Owing to my summons yesterday, I had not eaten for over twenty four hours, a new record in my life.

However, before I could begin to gorge myself, an issue presented itself. Though Shieldwing had included cutlery, I realised that I had no idea how I was going to use them with my lack of hands. After contemplating the issue for a couple of minutes I conducted a number of attempts to hold the cutlery, though they all proved pointless as the fork clattered uselessly to the tray every single time. Eventually, my frustration began to build, and I opted to simply shove my muzzle into the bowl, and eat like an animal. I quickly choked down the food in large mouthfuls, in an attempt to end my torture faster.

Even this simple act flared my temper at Celestia, over what lows she had forced me to. After all, before anything else, I was a proud man. It did not sit well for me to have to eat my food in such a demeaning manner.

My unflattering method of eating didn’t seem to bother Shield, however. Though I was not positive if this was because ponies always ate like I did, or that he simply did not care.

Once I had consumed every morsel of the fruit salad, and, to my shame, even licked the bowl, I had to confront another problem, in how I was going to pick up the glass. I chose to simply sandwich it between my two hooves, which was thankfully made easier by the fact that the cup was square. After a few awkward moments, where I could swear that the glass was going to drop any second, I managed to gulp down the juice, and return the glass to the tray.

“So what was that other thing that you needed from me?” Shield questioned, distracting me from the brief moment of pride I felt at overcoming this obstacle without also losing any more of my dignity, what little of it remained.

“Yes, Shield, I need your help. I can barely walk in this form,” I said, bitterness dripping from my words, “ let alone do anything that would be required for basic living. I need you to help me get used to everything so I can get out of here as fast as I can.”

”Sure, buddy, no problem,” he spoke whilst nodding his head vigorously, “when do you want to get started?”

“Straight away,” I replied with the briefest of smiles.

*****

So, that was my life over the next few weeks. Every single waking moment I had was spent with Shield, relearning the most basic of tasks. I had to be taught everything, from how a pony walks, to how to manipulate objects effectively. In this time, I channeled every little bit of my rage into completing my goals, as every activity had me in some way imagining it being involved in my revenge on Celestia.

My progress was hindered slightly, by my straight up refusal to use my mouth in any of the tasks, unless there was absolutely no alternative method. That little quirk annoyed Shieldwing to no end. Eventually, I developed strategies to circumvent almost all mouth manipulation. I found that I could hold most large objects by sandwiching them in the joints on my forelegs that essentially amounted to wrists. Through this, I could slowly see improvement in the tasks that required fine motor control. Particularly, this was present in writing as I had to relearn how; I was now holding the implement in a completely different way than I did as a human.

As the days wore on, I could see a subtle but continuous improvement, as my childlike script soon evolved into a style that somewhat resembled what it once was. Though I knew deep down, I would never be able to recapture the fluidity and neatness that I once had. It was a revelation that would haunt almost everything I did in this new body.

Despite this knowledge that gnawed away inside of me, I still persevered. Even though, at least once, every single day, I would perform some menial task that would drive me to such levels of frustration, over the loss of dexterity afforded by my hands, that I could barely contain my screams.

The monotony of my days were sometimes broken up by an excursion to the castle’s gardens. During such outings, Shieldwing and I would explore a variety of different paces, from a gentle walk, to a full-on gallop. This imparted upon me a level of fitness I had never before achieved in my life, though I could not be sure if this was because of the physical activity or because of my new pony physiology.

One disturbing trend that became apparent in the first few days after Celestia’s visit, was that her words about my cutie mark were beginning to ring true. At every moment where my mind was left to wander, I could feel a tugging at my thoughts to express my cutie mark and knit. As the days continued on, this compulsion began to grow worse and worse. I steadfastly refused to give into the fate that was decided for me, at least this one I could fight and stand a chance of winning.

The issue was not helped by the fact that every day, when Shieldwing began his shift and would meet me in the living area of the suites, he would have with him a ball of yarn and a pair of needles. The first time I had seen him with these, my anger had exploded, and I practically threw him out of the room. I refused to speak to him for the next two days until he managed to tell me that they were not from him, but rather that Blade Storm was under express orders to give me those. Certainly, I could not confirm where the orders had originated from, as I was uninformed how many were aware of my plight. Nevertheless, in my heart I knew that it was undoubtedly given directly by Celestia in some misguided attempt at kindness to get me to accept my chains, and in turn be “happy”.

Each day, I threw the “gift” out of the window. Each day, Shieldwing would enter with a new set, intended to replace the old one. What made this even worse, was the way that, as the days wore on, I could feel my resolve to resist my mark weakening, and each day I would hesitate a little longer before throwing it out the window. My lowest point came when, in a moment of weakness, I had taken the two needles in my two forelegs and began moving the two of them in a way that I somehow knew would be perfect for knitting a sweater. Luckily I managed to strengthen my flagging resolve in that moment and toss them out of the windows, though I did not manage to escape from the disgust that I felt at myself for almost giving in and accepting my “fate”.

Though I tried to explain my reasoning behind why I resisted my cutie mark to Shieldwing, it was clear that he didn’t really understand my aversion to it. Happily enough, though, he tried his best to support me in the matter.

I did not blame him. After all, I could only assume that he had a mark that suited him perfectly, and which made him proud when it was displayed. He was only following orders when he would bring me the equipment each day, and offered no resistance when I would dispose of it.

This mutual understanding also carried over to our discussion of Celestia, and her motivation for changing me. It was clear to me that Shieldwing didn’t approve of my anger at Celestia. In his mind, she had taken the route that ensured the happiness and safety of everyone involved, just as she would do for anyone under her rule. I knew that I could never convince him otherwise. Unfortunately, there were a few days, where he tried to convince me to apologise to Celestia for what I had said to her, which resulted in flared tempers, and barely avoided fights. We both came to the conclusion to not bring it up in conversation again.

Another fact of note, was that during the first few nights of sleep after my transformation, I was assaulted with nightmares, where I would relive the moments before my ponyfication. This time though, as a third party, observing the actions that lead me to naively answer Celestia’s summons. In these, I would scream with all my might to try to get the past version of me to run, and escape. Every time, it proved pointless. He was lead as a lamb to the slaughter, completely ignorant of the betrayal that would take place. Every time, I would see myself wreathed in the magic of the two sisters, and witnessed the grotesque transformation, where I would slowly be morphed into my current state. Each time, I would awake in a panic, covered in sweat, and feeling phantom fingers dancing at the ends of my stumps.

Mysteriously, these dreams stopped after a few nights, and though I still dreamed, they were filled with vapid things that were of little conscience to me. Despite this, every once in awhile, I could swear that I would catch sight of another figure that would disappear quickly into the shadows. Despite the absence of the nightmares, I still feared each night that they would return. I admit that I was disturbed by the mysterious figure that I would sometimes see skulking in the shadows of my dreams. To reduce my chances of reliving these experiences, I coerced Shieldwing to wake me up as soon as he began his shift. Normally, just when the sun was beginning to rise, which soon forcefully adjusted my body clock enough to allowed me to wake up under my own power, even before the light of the new day had appeared. It was a habit that would serve me well in the future.

I would work late into the night, every single day, performing all of the possible exercises that were available to me, in an effort to keep my mind off of the anger that even then threatened to engulf me, the temptation to knit that risked to destroy all that I was, and the dreams that disturbed me, even though they carried little substance.

A consequence of this was that I barely read anymore. By the end of the day, I was so exhausted that I could just barely muster up enough energy to collapse into bed, ready to wake at the same time I did every morning, and continue where I had left off.

In this way, my life developed a clear schedule that carried on uninterrupted. Until one day, in which I received an invite to a party, dedicated to the engagement of one Mi Amore Cadenza. Unknown to me at the time, I would facilitate my exodus from the castle directly after that, and plunge into the cold world that I would one day lead.

Chapter 4

Money is power, money is respect, money is everything.

―Unofficial motto of House Blueblood

“Mister Clickety Clack, personal guest of Her Highness, Princess Celestia,” declared the herald.

Quickly I strode into the room that hosted the party before me. I was loathed to be referred to by both my fake name, and as Celestia’s guest, but it was a necessity for my current situation.

It appeared that my presence was of little importance to the nobles around me, as they all seemed to remain entranced in their idle chatter. This was fine by me after all I didn’t even want to come to this ridiculous party, I was only here at Shieldwing’s insistence.

*****

“Shield, I don’t want to go to some stuffy affair full of stuck up nobles.”

“Hey, be careful buddy. I happen to be one of those stuck up nobles,” Shieldwing replied in a tone of mock offendedness, “But honestly, you should go. All you do all day is work, I can’t even remember the last time you laughed.”

“Shield, the answer is no. I have much more important things to spend my time on, then socialising with a bunch of spoiled fat cats.”

“Look, Josh, it was very kind of Princess Cadenza to invite you to this thing, it’s only right that you go.”

“For the last time Shield, NO.”

“Look how about this,” Shield spoke after an aggravated sigh, “You’ve been practising all this time to improve your basic functions right? Well then use this as a test. There’s tonnes of areas where you can try out everything in a real situation, and they’re even serving lunch, so you can see if your eating skills are up to scratch.”

“You’re not going to stop pestering me about this until I agree, are you?”

“Nope,” he said whilst flashing his trademark grin, already sensing he had won.

“...Fine. I’ll go.”

*****

So, here I was. Trapped in a sea of decadence, and had already noticed that I had taken a clear misstep. Everyone in the ballroom had some form of clothing on, all of it made of expensive fabrics with impeccable stitching, something that I knew I could only identify because of my mark. I on the other hand was as naked as the day I was violated. Though I had gotten my hair cut and styled in an apparently pleasing way. Frankly, I couldn’t have cared less for such trivialities, but Shieldwing had insisted and once again I had relented.

Standing idle near the doorway for a few moments, I realised that, unconsciously, my thoughts had drifted to examining the different outfits the guests were wearing, and admiring their stitch work. Quickly I shook my head in an attempt to clear it from thoughts of sewing, my anger at myself already rising, for being so careless at keeping them in check. Instead I noticed an unoccupied table that was set up on the other side of the room, at least the crowd would give me an indication of my agility.

As I made my careful way over to the table, I caught a few of snippets of conversation from the various different groups that I passed.

“Did you hear about that mess in the countryside –“

“—seen the new clothing designs?”

“—Staying at the castle.”

“Discord ruined all of their—“

“—higher food prices are of little concern.”

“—Wonderbolts latest show was fantastic.”

Finally, I had made it to the table, and with as much dignity I could muster, I took a seat with a reasonably decent view of the surrounding area and those that occupied it.

The ballroom that I was in seemed to follow the typical architectural style of the castle, featuring a large number of white marble surfaces, and wide sweeping ceilings. However, to accompany the more joyous mood of the party, the various surfaces were decorated with silken banners of both white and pink. To complete the image, a large table was set up on the other side of the room, which was laden with a number of small delicacies. The centrepiece of this buffet was a grand ice sculpture, that appeared to be an intricately carved dove depicted in mid flight.

“Prince Blueblood, head of House Blueblood, Duke of Canterlot and member of the Council of Nobles,” cried the herald, mirroring perfectly the tone and volume that he had used for every single guest that had entered so far.

Sauntering into the room, with a smirk plastered on his face that could only be described as smug, was the one and only Prince Blueblood. Immaculately groomed and cleaned, his coat was such a bright shade of white he would be able to blend in with little difficulty to newly fallen snow. Adding to his image of privilege, his mane and tail shone like spun gold, and was so perfectly coifed, that it must have taken hours of care to get it to its current state, and an even greater effort for it to remain that way for more than a moment. The final touch to complete his image was the ensemble he wore. A black suit made from silk, complete with a blue bow tie, and buttons that, from this distance, appeared to be pure gold.

The only real reason that I was even able to identify this fop as Blueblood, was due to the fact that his face featured once, on the front page of the Equestria Daily. From memory, it was some pointless award, that named him as the most ‘eligible bachelor’ of the year. As expected, the article contained little more than pointless fluff, and was, of course, written by none other than Hot Scoop. If there was a need for a poorly written piece of blatantly pro-ruling-class journalism, it seemed that she was the go-to writer.

None of this really interested me at all. After all, he was simply yet another spoiled noble. Something that was in no short supply, at my current location. What did interest me about him, was the fact that he was a member of the Council of Nobles. I remembered reading about it once, and reeling at what a bad idea that it could have been, if not for the unique dynamic of Equestria’s leadership.

Apparently, shortly after Luna’s transformation into Nightmare Moon, Celestia had feared that the same darkness that had consumed her sister, would fester and grow in her heart. If this were to ever happen to her, then there would be no one to oppose her, in the same way that she had done to her sister. This would mean, that she would encounter little resistance if she ever desired to turn her peaceful rule, into an iron-fisted dictatorship. To prevent this, Celestia formed the Council of Nobles.

It was composed of the heads of the ten most influential families of the time, which would have the power to veto any of her legislative decisions, as long as they could amass a vote of eighty percent or more. A few nobles had defected to Nightmare moon’s side, so it was decided to allow some leeway in the number of votes needed to veto a notion, if the same thing were to happen again.

Normally, a governmental system like that would be incredibly dangerous, as it afforded considerable power to the nobility. However, this situation had never occurred, as Celestia has always been able to convince the nobles to stand behind her. In its thousand year history, the council had only ever exercised its power twice. The first was over eight hundred years ago, when the council prevented Celestia from changing the celebration date of some holiday known as Hearths Warming Eve. The other was sometime last year, when Celestia had attempted to dissolve the council upon the return of her sister.

My pondering on the Council was interrupted, when the hospital white coat of Blueblood invaded my vision.

“Well, look what we have here,” he spoke, his tone dripping with arrogance, whilst he seemed to address those around us even though he was looking directly at me, “A servant has gotten tired and decided to take a rest amongst his betters. We can’t be having that. Peasant, remove yourself from my royal presence quickly, and I promise that your punishment will be lenient.”

It appeared that a considerable number of the other guests around us were listening, as soft snickers and giggles seemed to permeate the room.

In the past I would have attempted to avoid the conflict altogether and simply complied with his request. However, my newfound anger refused to let me, as Blueblood’s blatant disregard for others forced my self-control to the very edge. Instead I attempted a middle road as I decided to remain seated, and ignore him in the hope that he would grow bored and leave.

“Peasant, are you deaf? I said to leave. You are not welcome here, this party is for the elite not for mud ponies such as yourself.”

Blueblood’s blatant racial slur shattered what little remained of my self control, allowing my anger at everything that had happened to me to bubble to the surface.

Slowly I began to make my way to my feet ready to reduce Blueblood to a snivelling wreak before me.

“Cousin Blueblood how pleasant to see you,” a soft feminine voice suddenly spoke, “it’s been far too long.”

“Princess Cadenza, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Blueblood quickly replied, his voice doing little to conceal his annoyance at being interrupted. Despite this, he did give a slight bow towards whoever was standing behind me. Though, from his expression, it pained him to do so.

“Well, that is certainly unusual. After all, it is my party.” The voice softly laughed.

At this, the slightest shade of red seemed to invade Bluebloods cheeks. The colour of his coat making it stand out like a light.

All throughout this exchange I continued to keep my gaze locked onto Blueblood in an attempt to stare him down. However, this had the unfortunate downside of preventing myself a view of my mysterious royal rescuer.

“Yes, well if you would excuse me, princess, there are others that I might grace with my presence.”

Beating a hasty retreat, Blueblood quickly spun around and departed back into the crowd, likely off to ‘charm’ some other aristocrat with his social graces.

I kept my eye on Blueblood until I was sure that he would not return, at least for the moment. Once I had lost sight of him I began to carefully rotate myself to face my rescuer, not a simple task thanks to my quadruped nature.

“Many thanks, I fear to think what would have–“

My words died in my throat when I caught sight of my rescuer, and panic began to overwhelm me. She stood at around my height. Her coat was a light pink, complimented by her mane and tail, which split into three separate colours of violet, rose and gold. However, this was of little consequence, in the face of the fact that she had both wings and a horn. She was an alicorn.

She was smiling softly at me, with a slight tilt to her head. No doubt, she was perplexed by my sudden silence. Her apparently kind smile did little to reassure me, I had learned the hard way, with Celestia, just how smiles could mislead.

Quickly, I fought down my fear, after all, she was apparently fairly young for an alicorn. Besides, there was nothing that she could feasibly take from me that Celestia and Luna had not, already. With hard-won determination, earned from my suffering, I brought my fear back under my control, utilising some of my anger to drown out the part that I could not. Swiftly I locked her with a stare much akin to the one I had given Blueblood moments before.

“Are you alright?” She questioned, “Look if it’s because of these,” she quickly extended her wings to gesture at her horn, “I promise you that I’m no different from you.”

“Except with immortality,” I hissed.

If it was not for my close scrutiny of her, I would have missed the flinch that she gave at my words. However, her recovery was swift, as she continued with her attempts to initiate a conversation.

“You’re Clickity Clack, aren’t you? My aunt has said a lot about you”

My anger threatened to engulf me, at the reference of that insulting name, but I forced it down. This was not the place for it, after all, I could not be sure that she was even aware of my plight. Besides, my indignity was slightly outweighed, by my own curiosity at what this alicorn’s aunt had to say about me.

“Yes, I’m sure she has,” I replied, attempting to keep my tone as level as possible. “Though, if I may ask, why is it that this aunt speaks about me?”

“Well, you’re Auntie Tia’s personal guest, why wouldn’t she talk about you?” Her voice containing a hint of confusion. She then seemed to realize something, “Oh! I’m sorry, I forget that other ponies don’t know her nickname. Celestia, my aunt is Celestia.”

At the mention of Celestia’s name I stiffened, half expecting her to appear in the room, as if she could be summoned just by speaking her name. Her lack of presence became apparent after a few moment of tense waiting, and I mentally kicked myself; for having such a childish reaction, and for allowing myself for being so transparent.

Once again, my reaction had caused the princess in front of me to stare at me strangely, as if she was questioning my sanity.

“You’re unusual, you know that, Mr Clack?” She spoke, thankfully breaking the awkward silence, “You see me and immediately seem to have some sort of panic attack, but despite that, you have not followed a single step of royal etiquette, you haven’t even bowed.

“Yes. Well, Princess Cadenza, I find little point in any form of etiquette associated specifically with the aristocracy. Besides, I never bow to anyone, period. Not you, and not even your aunt.”

Before I could begin to regret the boldness of my words, my ears were greeted with the princesses musical laugh.

“Oh, how refreshing! it is so rare to find somepony that is willing to ignore such stuffy traditions. I’m glad that I invited you. Also please just Cadence is fine. I prefer that name over my royal one, anyway.”

“If we could go back a bit, Cadence, what is it exactly that the princess has said about me?”

“Well, its strange, I first heard about you nearly a month ago. It seemed nearly every time I saw her she had something new to say about you.”

At the end of her sentence, she made to sit on the cushion positioned on the direct opposite end of the table. Just before she made contact she suddenly looked at me expectantly, waiting for permission on my part.

I nodded, “Please, sit,” I said, motioning for her to take the cushion. After all, I was eager enough to hear what she was going to say, to ignore that she was simultaneously a noble and an alicorn.

Though it was ridiculous, I felt safer once she had seated herself comfortably. Her posture and the height of the table hid her wings from view, allowing me to pretend that she was simply a unicorn. Though, a part of me hated myself for conjuring up that ridiculous notion, a larger part accepted it as a necessary evil. Frankly, there was no way for me to get away from her, without offending her, and that would place me in far greater danger than what I was already in.

“But recently,” Cadence continued, “whenever I bring you up, she suddenly becomes upset.”

At this revelation, a touch of malicious contentment filled me. At least, in some way, I had hurt Celestia. Though I knew that, a few weeks ago, I would have been disgusted at feeling happiness due to another’s pain, I was willing to make an exception for Celestia. After everything that she had done to me, she deserved to suffer.

However, this did little to sooth the writhing anger that lurked below the surface, which demanded no less than Celestia’s blood before it could be sated.

“Well I’m sorry to hear that,” I lied, “She and I had a bit of a falling out over something.”

“What was it? She won’t tell me. To be honest with you, I’m so desperate to know, it was part of why I invited you to this party,” Cadence spoke, voice brimming with curiosity.

“I’d rather not get into that. It’s between the two of us. Not to be rude, but that’s the way I want it to remain.”

At least this part was true, after all no matter how much it would delight me to share my plight with the world, I had no evidence to prove my true nature. If I were to start blathering on about how I was an alien, and how their perfect princess changed me into one of them, against my will, I would almost certainly be dragged off to the nearest asylum.

“Well, that’s okay. I understand, sometimes it’s better to keep these things private,” remarked Cadence, whilst performing a valiant effort to disguise her disappointment, “So, how have you found your stay at the castle?”

“It’s been fine, thankfully one of the guards assigned to my door is a good m—stallion. Frankly, I wouldn’t know what I would do without him. Other than that, I feel a bit conflicted. The rooms are magnificent, but I can’t help but feel bad for enjoying something I didn’t earn.”

“Believe me I know the feeling. It’s hard to enjoy something like that, when nearly all of it is financed from tax on the lower classes. I once was one of them, I can still remember the tax collector coming to our door and my mother counting out the bits.”

So, we talked, for what seemed like hours. At first, I attempted to glean as much information as possible from her, but as time moved on, I lost focus, and we struck up a rather lively debate on governmental systems. Apparently, the idea of popular sovereignty was unheard of in modern Equestria, which gave me the nice bonus of appearing to be an accomplished political philosopher. Eventually, we departed from that area of conversation and began to retell tales of our lives.

“—and that’s why I never went hiking with my father again,” I finished, whilst attempting to ignore the familiar stab of loss that now accompanied any mention of my former life. The princesses’ pretty laughter helped to sooth it slightly.

After my story concluded, we lapsed into a silence that allowed me to compose my thoughts. Despite our quiet, the room around us still buzzed with the incessant chatter of the nobility, leaving us as a beacon of calm in the otherwise noisy room.

Frankly, I had done a terrible job at combing my companion for information. I did have a habit of getting carried away when talking about philosophy of any kind, and today had proven no exception. Cadence had not helped the matter, she was intelligent and insightful, able to quickly grasp the concepts that from her own admission were completely foreign to her.

I was willing to admit that, despite the fact that she embodied everything I hated in this world, I was warming to her. This was made particularly apparent to me, as I didn’t feel any unjustified anger when looking at her like I did only an hour ago.

In my reflection, a simple fact came up that had been bugging me on and off over the past hour, but had never seemed appropriate to bring up.

“Cadence, one question. Your name, Amore, it means love, doesn’t it?” I asked, bringing an end to the silence that had engulfed us, “Excuse me if I am being rude, but what does it have to do with anything?”

“I’m impressed,” she replied, “not many ponies know the ancient Pegasi language. It’s because of my special talent, I help ponies to fall in love.”

“That nice,” I said, though I was confused by her answer. “Does that mean you set up dates or something?”

“No, silly,” She giggled, “It means that I am able to identify two ponies that would be perfect for each other and then give them the love that would make them complete.”

“I’m sorry about this but ‘give them love’. What does that mean?” I spoke, still puzzled by the princess’s explanation.

“I suppose in laypony terms you could say that I make ponies fall in love. Though I assure you that its far more… ”

As she continued to speak I began to comprehend less and less as all the sound around me devolved into a dull roar. Anger that only a few minutes ago lay forgotten began to fill me again as my heart rate steadily increased. In this time, I thought of nothing. My entire existence was the fuzzy shapes around me and the rapid beat of my heart in my ears.

“Mr Clack, Mr Clack? Are you okay, you drifted off again.”

Slowly, I became aware of a voice directly addressing me, piercing through the white noise around me. Its soft femininity did little to calm me, as it had done previously. Now, it instead represented the target of my rage, and little else.

“You do WHAT?!” I raged, “You are so arrogant, that you take away individuals very right to choose, and instead force them feel what you want them to feel?! What makes you so mighty?! What gives you the right to take free will?!”

My raised voice began to draw the attentions of the crowd. Slowly, the roar of the room began to fall into blessed silence, as inquisitive eyes turned our way.

My apparently unprovoked outburst had rattled the princess, but it seemed that she was braver than I would have thought. She still remained seated at the other side of the table, though she was obviously startled and was shaking slightly.

“I—It’s my special talent! Of course I would be the best at doing it. Would you really rather have nopony love you, just to avoid my help?” Her voice carrying a noticeable tremor.

“I would rather be a miserable free man, than a contented slave,” I spat at her.

My anger blazed inside of me, like an inferno. It demanded that I hurt her, make her pay for so blatantly enslaving those around her.

Quickly I made my way to my feet and began to stalk my way over to her, my movement made clumsy by my anger. Throughout this the onlookers gazed on in curiosity and I could swear I caught sight of a sneering Blueblood in the corner of my eye.

When I had just about reached her, an unknown voice rang out from the crowd, as the sound of galloping filled the otherwise dead silence room.

“Hey! Get away from her!” Yelled out a voice that originated from the edge of the crowd.

At this, the mass of ponies parted like a wave, revealing a single stallion. His coat was pure white, nearly exactly like Blueblood’s, though it was just dull enough that it spoke of someone who was not so narcissistic. His mane and tail were composed of three separate shades of blue and his eyes blazed with anger. Emblazoned on his flank was a single blue shield that contained within it a single star whilst three others were raised above it.

“Shining!” Cadence cried, the relief palpable in her voice, as she stretched her arms out to him.

Quickly he strode his way over to the princess, and positioned himself between her and I.

“Stay where you are, I don’t want to hurt you but I can’t promise you anything if you try to get any closer to my fiancée,” he said, his voice containing a cold edge that could only be found when facing down those that threatened what you love.

At his words a dry chuckle that carried with it no humour escaped my lips.

“Ah… You stand so valiantly to protect her, but can you even be sure that your love for her isn’t just manipulation?” I questioned.

“So what if it is? I still love her, no matter what, and she loves me back, just as much. It’s something you will never understand,” He replied, his voice still maintaining that cold tone that was somehow more intimidating than if he met me with furious yells.

From his answer, it was clear that the time for talking was over. Only actions would win me this day, and offer even a small chance of allowing me to confront the princess.

Calling his bluff I resumed my walk towards her, making to step around her protector.

I had not taken more than a few steps when his hoof lashed out and connected with my jaw with a loud crack. The force of it sent me crashing to the ground where I lay in a daze, staring up at the ceiling and enjoying the soothing coolness of the marble beneath me. For a moment I simply lay there, feeling more at peace than I had in a long time.

My bliss was interrupted, however, by my inner voice demanding me to I get up off the floor and face down my attacker with dignity.

Struggling, I managed to get off of my side and fought back to a standing position, an action made even more difficult by the throbbing pain that was already being made apparent in my jaw.

All throughout our exchange the nobles around us still watched on with rapt attention with not a single sound present throughout all of their ranks.

It was clear that as long as ‘Shining’ was here I would not be able to take another step towards the princess. Instead, I decided to opt for another approach.

As fast as I could possible managed I whipped my right foreleg forward in an attempt to catch the stallion unaware, placing as much force as I could muster behind it. At least this move would afford me an advantage in the ensuing fight.

Even before my hoof was halfway to Shining’s face I already realised that I had made a mistake.

With practised ease my opponent recognised my obviously telegraphed attack and ducked underneath it. This had the unfortunate effect of causing me to overbalance. In the ensuing seconds, whilst I attempted to correct myself, Shining swiftly brought his hoof up and delivered a devastating blow to the right side of my head. Again, I was sent sprawling.

As I lay on the ground again the serenity that I felt before failed to engulf me. Instead the cold realisation entered my mind that I had lost. There was no possible way for me to defeat this stallion and now I was at his total mercy.

With this realisation brought fear so strong that it was even able to drown out my inner anger. I could feel tightness begin to invade my chest and the strength leave my limbs. My internal logic told me that all possible paths that he could take would lead back to the involvement of a single person, Celestia.

My fearful thoughts were interrupted when a shadow fell over my face. Looking up I was greeted with the stern expression belong to none other than Shining.

“Get out,” he spoke in a hushed yet forceful voice, “get out of here, and make sure that I never catch sight of you ever again.”

Looking into his eyes I could see that there was no mercy present within, something that I couldn’t understand. Summoning up all that remained of my courage I had to know the answer.

“But why?” I asked, “why let me go, when you have the right to perform any justice you see fit?”

Clearly, he was not happy with my continued insistence to speak, but in this case my curiosity outweighed my better judgement.

“It’s what Cadence wants, to show kindness and love towards others. Even if they don’t deserve it.”

Laying on my back suddenly all I could do was laugh, my relief so palpable I could feel the tension leave my body. I laughed so hard that tears streamed down my face and so long that they soon began to resemble a lunatics more than my own.

Struggling to my feet, occasional laughter slipping out, I turned to look at Shining one final time, making sure that I was positioned more than a few meters apart.

“You truly are her slave, aren’t you?”

“Get out of here, NOW!” He suddenly shouted, vein throbbing in his neck. My question clearly breaking what little remained of his self control.

As he did this he began to advance towards me in a decidedly menacing manner.

So I turned and ran.

Chapter 5

We swear to ensure that our princess’s sun will set at dusk and rise anew at dawn 

―Phrase which is uttered upon the opening of all meetings of the Council of Nobles.

I did not know where I was going, or even what I would do once I got there. All I needed to do was run, to get away from this castle that was little but a prison to me now. I had to be away from all these people, who were so ignorant and yet so powerful as to hold sway over the most basic emotions and thoughts.

I did not know how, but in my daze I suddenly became aware of the clear blue sky above. This did little to slow me, as I continued to run.

Soon, a more logical part of my mind became aware of a spectrum of colours streaming past me, as I continued to gallop forward.

For the first time since I arrived here in Equestria, I felt free. As long as I continued to run, there could be nothing but the sky above, and the people that surrounded me and yet moved so slow. As I moved, everything that had plagued me—from my cutie mark, to the party—seemed to float away and be left behind.

I do not know for how long I ran, but gradually I became aware that the blurs around me were beginning to coalesce into the distinct shape of ponies.

Suddenly, my exhaustion hit me, and I could move no more. It was all I could do to collapse with my back up against a building, my breathing coming in shallow gasps and my coat drenched in sweat.

As I sat there, all of my burdens suddenly returned, their weight feeling even greater after the brief shining moment where they had left me. Already, I could feel my mark tugging strongly at the corner of my mind, always urging me to give in and knit.

Examining the city around me, for the first time that was not from a distance, I was struck with just how clean it appeared. Every surface was spotless, and the cobblestones underfoot were so close together, there was barely a join between them.

Evidently, I was in one of the richer districts of Canterlot, as everyone around me wore at least some form of clothing. Even without this, it was clear that nearly all of them were some form of noble. It was hard to grasp how I knew this, but it had something to do with how they carried themselves. All of them walked with a stride that was not too fast as to denote urgency but not too slow as to make them appear that they were wandering. Even two ponies that walked past were so arrogant, that their muzzles were pointed straight up to the sky.

Directly across from me was a cafe, where wealthy patrons sat on cushions and shared in idle banter.

A slight movement attracted my eye. One of the patrons was getting up to go inside, probably off to use the restroom. This was of little interest to me, and I would have quickly lost interest, if not for what he had left behind. The stallion had set his saddlebag down on one of the empty chairs at his table. As he passed by, he accidentally nudged the chair, causing the bag to fall to the ground, and spill open. He either didn’t notice, or care, as he simply continued into the cafe.

Peering into the bag, I caught sight of the unmistakable glint of gold. The bag’s owner had left, and every other pony in the area was completely absorbed in their puerile chatter. Taking a more sweeping inspection of the area, I spotted no guards anywhere. The bag was practically begging me to take it. I was still too tired to even think about simply leaving, and so I was left sitting and staring temptation directly in the face.

After five minutes had passed, the owner of the bag had still not returned, and a moral battle was screaming in my mind.

Stealing was wrong. I had been taught that my entire life, and it was a black and white issue. However, this situation was looking to have quite a shade of grey. I knew that I had no money, and I had no intention to return to the castle to get any. The simple act of eating outside that place required money. Besides, its owner was clearly a noble, if I didn’t take it he’d probably end up just spending it all at the next store he planned to visit.

Logically, it made perfect sense for me to take it. I also knew that if I did, I would be crossing an ethical boundary.

Soon enough, my mind was made up. Slowly I struggled to my feet—my breathing now at a much calmer level—and began to creep over to where my target lay. Every few steps I stopped to look around but the world seemed to go by as normal with little regard to my villainous thoughts.

All the while my mind was screaming at me that this was wrong but my sense of reason one out. Every step closer that I took I cursed Celestia for forcing me to such lows as to become a common thief.

 As soon as I made it I reached inside and withdrew them. It appeared that the coins—or bits as I knew they were called—were inside of a purse that thankfully seemed to have an extra long loop designed to go over someone’s neck. Swiftly I swept the coins back into their bag and pulled the drawstring tight with my teeth, the adrenaline coursing through my veins making me temporarily forget my pride.

Looking around me nervously, it seemed that, just like at the party, I didn’t warrant the attention of those around me, even with my blatantly suspicious behaviour.

I hung the bag around my neck, thankful that I didn’t need to use my mouth any further, and took off at a pace akin to a light jog. Soon, I had once again been engulfed by the crowd, leaving behind the cafe, and its slightly poorer customer.

Trotting along, the coins hung heavy around my neck. At every step, they were sent clinking together, a sound that represented simultaneously my salvation and damnation. With them, I was guaranteed freedom from further royal manipulation, but to obtain them, I had to break one of the most basic tenants of the societal contract.

As I continued, the sound grew louder and louder with each step, taunting me with yet another thing that I had lost to at Celestia’s whim, as did my silent curses against Celestia and her brood.

I soon became aware of a decided shift in the general atmosphere and appearance of my surroundings. Where before, the city was practically immaculate, in this area it seemed much more lived in. The cobblestones were worn down from heavy traffic, and the other surfaces seemed to have a much more greyish tone to them, afforded by many years buildup of dirt and dust.

Perhaps the most drastic tell, however, was the ponies around me now seemed to be as naked as I was. I subconsciously relaxed, now that I no longer stood out so prominently. Though beyond this I payed little attention to them, they were all spectres that I walked past with no fear.

Just as I rounded a corner, I caught sight of a pleasant surprise: a bench. As I drew closer, I noticed another piece of good fortune, the bench’s previous occupant had left behind a newspaper.

As gracefully as I could manage, I seated myself comfortably, and began to examine the paper.

It seemed to be today’s copy of the Equestria Daily. Not my ideal choice for reading material, but it would provide a distraction from the continuous compulsion to knit.

Equestria’s food shortage worsens

The food shortage that originally resulted from the return of Discord took another troubling turn yesterday. Prices of the most basic commodities once again underwent a rise, that left many families struggling to adjust. This latest price increase means that inflation is now at over 100% and will only increase if events continue to unfold with no governmental intervention. Already, Princess Celestia is drafting new amendments to the tax laws that will simultaneously increase the tax on the aristocratic class, whilst providing a tax cut to the lower classes, in a bid to offset the losses that many ponies would otherwise encounter. To quickly counteract this issue, our princess is also planning to make a further proposal before the Council of Nobles to also suspend the coming winter period, to allow for farms to immediately begin a replacement crop which should permit a return to normality by this time next year. Already, farmers have begun to do just that, a widespread testament to their well deserved faith. Many poorer families have already begun a number of different attempts to stave off bankruptcy. One of the most prevalent of these, involves risking feeding on the grass outside of the city limits, though if this trend continues unabated, this will only be a temporary solution and even then many families will not accept the disgrace it represents. More close knit communities...

Though I continued to read, I was now merely skimming over the words, as my mind began to wander. Perhaps I could use some of the money I had stolen to buy some knitting supplies; I had the best idea for a sweater that I was dying to create.

Suddenly I became aware of my own thoughts and a spike of fear punctuated me. My marks influence seemed to be growing ever stronger.

Angrily I threw the paper down onto the ground with as much force as I could muster. After this I made to once again begin my unguided wanderings in the hope that I could lose myself in the mindlessness of travel.

This intention left me, when I caught sight of the building just off to the left of where I was sitting.

It was a bar, made apparent by the sign above its oaken door picturing a frothing tankard.

Though I was never partial to drinking, after the events of the day, I felt that perhaps I could make an exception.

Striding over as quickly as possible, I opened the door and entered.

The room that I found myself in was mostly empty, though I could not be sure if this was owing to the fact that it was only early evening, or the increased prices that the paper mentioned. Huddled in one corner were what appeared to be two lovers, who seemed to be more occupied in staring into each other eyes, than attending to their drinks. Also sitting at a table nearly in the exact centre of the room, were two elderly gentlemen enjoying a drink and almost certainly talking about times long gone.

A musty aroma seemed to permeate the air, and there was a chill, afforded by the rooms chronic lack of windows and stone based structure.

To my right seemed to be the bar itself, behind which stood a fat brown stallion, who obviously liked to sample his own wares a little too much. He wore an enormous black handlebar mustache, to complete his look of a cliched bartender. It surprised me, I didn’t even know ponies could grow facial hair.

All of this was of little interest when taking into account who, or rather what, he was talking to.

Located on my side of the bar was what I could only describe as a griffon, and a very enraged one at that.

Standing at what appeared to be around my height, its body was divided between the head and front claws of an eagle and the remainder of the body belonging to a lion. The feline half was covered in fur a colour that was typical of any lion but it was the eagle part that was interesting. Though its feathers were white it appeared that around it eyes as well as the tips of a few feathers that seemed to form some sort of fringe they were instead coloured a light purple. To complete the image by its sides were two folded wings, coloured only a slightly darker shade than its coat.

“Look, all I want is a cider,” it spoke in a clearly irritated voice, “just give me one, and I’ll be happy to pay.”

From its voice, it was undoubtedly female, though it was rather difficult to discern at first, accounted to the strong tone of arrogance it contained.

“Look, I don’t serve to Griffons,” the bartender replied, his jowls wobbling all the while, “if you want a drink so badly, why don’t you go and get one from your own kind?”

“I already told you, I don’t want that piss, I want the good stuff,” her tone moving away from frustration and further towards anger.

It was clear that things were taking a turn for the worse, I had watched enough nature documentaries to recognise a feline getting ready to pounce.

I didn’t know why I decided to help her. Perhaps I could sense a kindred spirit of some kind. The more likely explanation however was that I was trying to settle some of my conscience, after my foray into theft.

“Hey, could I get two ciders?” I called.

Striding over to the bar, I seated myself on the stool right next to the enraged griffoness. Whilst I was doing this the bartender scrambled to fill my request, no doubt relieved to have an excuse to get away from the carnivore that was readying herself to attack him.

Unfortunately my intervention instead allowed for a new outlet for her attention.

“Hey! I was ordering here!” she raged, “why don’t you wait your turn, you damned pony?”

Conscientiously, I decided to ignore the mention of my new species. My still aching jaw was a testimony to the merits of self control and a cool head.

“You didn’t seem to being making much headway,” I replied all the while keeping my eyes facing forward.

Just then the bartender returned with two foaming mugs. I deposited a reasonable number of the coins onto the bar counter and he extracted what at least appeared to be a fair amount, though I had no idea the general value of the amount I had paid. As soon as he had his money he quickly departed with a mumbled excuse that he needed to bring up another barrel from the cellar, though I could not be sure whether this was out of fear of the griffon, or because he had taken too much of my money, and was leaving before I realised.

It was at this moment that I turned to face her and I was struck by a single thing. She was magnificent.

She was staring at me with yellow eagle eyes that were dangerously narrowed. On top of this, she was still in the same stance as she was before that had nearly spelled the death of the barkeep. All the while, her tail lashed backwards and forwards violently and her wings were just slightly unfolded, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Everything about her was tense. Her muscles were clearly outlined, and her claws flexed continuously, all of it in a stark state of readiness.

All of this made up the picture of a predator in the prime of its life, and from seeing her, I could certainly understand why the British Monarchy was so fond of griffons for their emblems.

Perhaps in another life, I would have been terrified at the prospect of a sapient apex predator staring me down. Now, however, I had encountered, disobeyed, and disrespected three immensely powerful beings, and had resoundingly lost a fight, some of that happening only mere hours ago.

Besides, I myself was an apex predator. Even if my current anatomy didn’t agree with me.

Maintaining rigid control over my emotions, both fear and anger, I brought my stump up to the bar and slowly slid one of the tankards over to her.

Watching carefully for a reaction it was clear that she—for a moment at least—was stunned over my actions, though she quickly recovered.

“I don’t need your charity pony,” she said, spitting the last word out as if it was some sort of curse.

“If your reaction is so averse,” I calmly replied, taking a small sip of my drink, “you are more than welcome to reimburse me.”

It was at this moment that the bartender decided to make a reappearance by not so subtly sticking his head around the corner. He quickly caught sight of my compatriot and made to retreat once again but he stopped when he caught sight of the drink now clasped in her right claw. It appeared that this allowed him to grow some sort of a spine as he quickly marched over to her.

“Where did you get that, you filthy griffon?” He questioned, the outrage plain in his voice, as he snatched the tankard out of her claws, “What, you intimidated my customer out of a drink?”

“Actually,” I interrupted before the griffon got a chance to reply and the situation to elevate any further. “I gave it to her.”

“Didn’t you hear me before?” He spluttered, his moustache bristling with indignation, “I don’t serve to griffons.”

“And you didn’t,” I stated, coolly, “You served it to me. After that, it’s my business who drinks it.”

At this he seemed to lose any capacity for cohesive speech as all that escaped his mouth were a few strangled sounds. After trying to articulate a response for several moments, he seemed to give up, opting to once again stalk off into the cellar.

All throughout the exchange, I could hear that the griffoness beside me was struggling to contain her laughter, as every few moments a soft snicker slipped through. Once he had finally stalked off she finally stopped trying and instead let them flow in such volume that I could feel the eyes of the patrons in the bar bore into us. What was surprising was that her laughter was uncharacteristically musical for a creature of her danger and ferocity. For a moment I smiled, at least I was able to do something right today.

“Thanks. You’re alright, for a pony.”

Quickly, she reached into her coin purse that was wrapped around her neck and withdrew a couple of coins and slid them over to me in much the same way as I had her drink.

Once this had concluded she made her way over to one of the tables and seated herself there, taking her tankard with her.

After she had departed I sat at the bar and took slow regular sips of my drink until it was all gone, taking with it about five minutes in the process. I could never hold my alcohol very well and already I felt a buzz coming on and my thoughts—both the ones I did and didn’t want—becoming a little less cohesive. On the plus side, it seemed to make a mildly effective pain killer, as the aching in my jaw was beginning to become a dull throb.

At some point during my drinking session, the bartender returned, though he seemed to alternate his time between staring at me and keeping an eye on the griffon.

Luckily his presence allowed for the easy purchase of another drink. The griffon wasn’t lying when she had called it the ‘good stuff’ and I was more than willing to pay for another. This time however, he seemed reluctant to sell me anything, but his resistance quickly left him once he caught sight of gold.

As I sat with my newly filled tankard, I decided to turn and examine the room, to keep my thoughts my own.

Looking around at the room, my eyes quickly spurned everything else of interest—which was in short supply anyway—and were soon focused on the Griffon.

As I looked at her, I suddenly had the realization that I had never even learned her name. I don’t know why I decided to, but before I realised it I was on my feet and awkwardly stumbling over to her table, my tankard firmly clasped in my right fore hoof.

After what seemed like an eternity I finally made it to her table and gratefully collapsed into the chair facing hers. Every moment over to her I felt like I was just about to fall over, walking on three legs was a new experience for me and things were not helped by the alcohol in my blood.

“What do you want,” she questioned, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, “I already gave you my half and it’s all there.”

“I know, I know, I believe you. I just realised that I never got your name.”

By this point I was beginning to question just what on Earth possessed me to get up and talk to this Griffon again. Perhaps it was that she was the only living thing I had seen without a Cutie Mark since arriving in Equestria.

“Look, just drop the bullshit and tell me your angle. Do you want to know a dangerous griffon, so you can brag to your friends about it?”

“I don’t have an angle,” I replied, my annoyance beginning to rise “I just want to get your name.”

“Fine then, if it will shut you up,” she spoke, giving an annoyed huff in the processes, “It’s Gilda.”

“Joshua,” I replied, sticking my hoof out in the intent to shake her claw.

Though my reaction was dulled by the alcohol quickly I realised that I had just told her my real name without even thinking about it.

Looking over at Gilda she was giving me an odd look as if she were weighing me up like livestock.

Slowly her right talon extended and enveloped my stump. I could feel the ends pushing into my skin but what startled me was that they were blunt, a sharp contrast to her otherwise predatory appearance.

“Why does a pony have a griffon name?” She questioned slowly, each word clearly filled with unease.

Her question represented a dilemma for me. I could either lie about it or I could tell her the truth. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or maybe that I was tired of hiding who I was after my conversation with Cadenza, but I was sorely tempted to tell her everything. So what if I was dragged off to an asylum? It’s not like my day could get any worse.

“It’s not a griffon name. It’s a human one,” I revealed, feeling a slight rush of excitement over telling a complete stranger the truth.

“A what?” She exclaimed, before regaining her composure. “Look, pony, I don’t know what game you're playing here, but I am not going to sit and listen to your lies.”

“It’s not I lie,” I spoke defensively, “and I’ll tell you the whole story, if you listen.”

For a while she appeared to sit and mull it over until she finally made a decision.

“Fine. But only if you buy me another drink.”

“I thought that you didn’t except charity,” I mentioned, before immediately cursing myself for potentially insulting her.

“I don’t, but if I have to sit and listen to your ramblings, then it’s not charity. It’s payment,” She replied with a sly smile.

So I told her everything that had happened to me. From the first day of my arrival, up until the party and my fight with Shining, if you could really call it a “fight”.

After I had finished we sat there for a while. I actually felt much better after getting everything out. My words had contained a lot more venom than they had when I had told Shield, and it had given me a chance to vent.

“Bullshit,” she suddenly exclaimed, “you got into a fight with Shining Armor?”

At this I nodded, at least now I knew my assailants full name.

“The captain of the Solar Guard’s Shining Armor?”

At this revelation I was slightly shocked. It seemed I had an innate skill for tangling with those in positions of power. Though it was hardly my fault, as all those in power seemed to have a fetish for major ethical violations.

Again, I nodded, whilst attempting to keep my expression as neutral as possible to hide my surprise.

Without any warning she swiftly reached across the table and jabbed me in the spot where I had indicated Shining had hit me with his second punch. Her blunted talon’s fierce assault on the already bruised flesh sent a bolt of pain shooting through me. At this I let out an unconscious yelp that coincided with a flaring of my temper.

“Ow!” I said, incredulously, “What did you do that for?”

Despite my incredible annoyance at her, I still managed to keep myself from hitting her back, in line with my new promise to control my anger. It would serve me no purpose to burn this bridge even before it was fully constructed.

“Well, I have to give it to you, at least you seem to have been hit where you say you were, though that doesn’t prove anything,” She said, with mirth, “I mean I hate Celestia as much as the next griffon, but wow! For a pony, of all races, to make up a story about her like that, is amazing.”

Her mention of the griffon’s hatred for Celestia piqued my interest, but at the moment, a far more pressing issue remained. By her referring to me once again as a pony ,and that my story was made up, it was clear that she didn’t believe me.

“But it’s true, you have to believe me.” By this point a hint of desperation was beginning to enter my voice and I was practically begging her. I was desperate to convince her that I was who I said I was, as if my failure with her would prevent everyone else from believing me.

“Look, I’ll do anything to prove it, name it and it will be done.” This was my final gambit, if it was not successful, then I would be left as another pony in the crowd, soon to be enslaved by forces beyond my control. This griffon, in some indistinguishable way, had somehow come to represent my salvation.

For two full agonizing minutes, I waited, whilst Gilda seemed to ponder the issue, continually tapping the side of her beak whilst staring into space.

“Okay, I have one test. If you pass it, then I’ll believe you.” At her words, I experienced relief even greater than what I experienced when Shining let me go.

“What is it then?” I questioned, my voice brimming with eagerness.

“Have dinner at my house.” Her expression containing that same slyness as when she demanded I “pay” her for listening to me.

“...Did you just… Ask me out?” I questioned.

Once my mind registered what my mouth had spewed out, I regretted speaking. What was I thinking, saying something like that to a griffon?

“What?! I—No! Look do you want to prove it or not!” She blustered, though her eyes flashed dangerously.

I swore, I could see a blush through her feathers, but it was probably just my alcohol-addled mind making things up.

Once I understood her challenge, I felt a hint of nervousness. Once I was at her place, then I was at her mercy. She could literally do anything to me, and undoubtedly get away with it. Innumerable sick and disgusting thoughts filled my head, a majority of them in some way involving my grisly death. It seemed that my experiences at the castle had made me more paranoid than I would have originally thought.

Quickly, I strengthened my lagging resolve. These thoughts were nothing but ridiculousness, there was exactly nothing about Gilda that seemed depraved. The only thing that she could be accused of having, was a temper problem, if her exchange at the bar was an indicator.

“Alright then,” I answered, giving a quick conformational nod.

Picking up my tankard, I gulped down the last few mouthfuls and made to stand.

“Let’s get going then. No time like the present,” I boldly proclaimed, before making my way over to the door without even looking to see if she was following.

Chapter 6

Help us never forget our past and our true nature.

―Griffon prayer and plea to their ancestors

Gilda and I walked alongside each other, as she led us through the city towards her home. As soon as the cool afternoon breeze hit me, I could immediately feel some of the alcoholic fog that clouded my mind begin to dissipate, though this also brought with it a renewed tugging at my mind to obey my mark.

As we continued forward, there was a noticeable shift in species, from ponies towards griffons, until it appeared that I was the only one. One factor that united them however was that every single one stared at us as we walked past.

“Why are they all looking at us?” I questioned, whilst trying my best to hide my unease.

“Jeeze dweeb, don’t tell me you don’t even know that.”

Glancing at her sideways I gave her a deadpanned expression.

“Right, right,” she spoke with a sigh, “It’s just unusual, for a griffon and pony to be seen walking together. Our kinds don’t really get along.”

Though I was interested to hear more about this, now was not the time to push anything. I was in a tenuous position, and if I were to anger Gilda in any way, it could have major adverse effects on my goal to convince her.

As we continued on, I began to notice a disturbing trend in the griffons walking all around us.

These griffons, whilst displaying reasonably similar colour patterns to Gilda, differed in a key point. They all seemed to be malnourished, with rib cages outlined prominently through their coats, which themselves lacked the lustre that Gilda’s displayed. Their muscles also featured much the same thing with forelimbs that were alarmingly skinny and wings that seemed to have majorly undeveloped muscles. Perhaps most disturbingly of all, were their eyes. They all seemed to be glazed over and unfocused, even when they were looking directly at us. They were eyes of a people who had given up hope, and now only drifted through life.

For as long as I could, I tried to ignore the issue and keep quiet but soon enough I could no longer bear it.

“Gilda,” I whispered out the corner of my mouth, “what’s wrong with all the other griffons?”

I appeared to have hit a nerve, as she stopped her walking and instead rounded on me.

“Look are you going to keep asking me all these stupid questions, or are we going to get to my house, and finally prove that you’re lying?” Her voice once again adopting the tone of rage that she seemed to favour.

Quickly I raised my right hoof in the gesture of appeasement though it did little to quell my own growing worry.

“Alright, alright, calm down. I won’t say another word until you do.”

Thankfully, this managed to placate her, as she turned around and continued walking, her tail whipping aggressively. She didn’t even stop to check if I was following, she just kept on moving.

Suddenly, I let out a breath that I didn’t even know I was holding, and galloped until I was once again alongside Gilda.

We soon arrived at a house that seemed eerily similar to all those around it. By this point, darkness had begun to overtake the sky above, and the number of pedestrians on the street had dropped dramatically.

Constructed of the same marble as every other building in the city, it did not change the image of poverty it projected. The roof seemed to be made of a basic thatch, which was a disgustingly brown colour that sagged alarmingly in one corner. The marble itself was stained so heavily, it was practically black in some spots, whilst in other it was considerably brighter, as if someone started to clean it and had then gave up on the endeavour shortly afterwards, as a lost cause.

Walking up to the door, Gilda withdrew a dull iron key from out of the purse that hung around her neck, and inserted it into the lock. Shortly afterwards, the conformational click was heard though even then, she still had to shoulder the door rather aggressively, to get it to open wide enough to permit us.

As soon as this was done, Gilda motioned me in. Standing still for a moment, hesitation gripped me. Inside that house lay practically the only possible way in which I could convince her of my true nature. However, entering it was also a huge leap of faith on my part, faith being something I had in short supply, after the suffering inflicted on me by Celestia.

Taking one last breath of clean, crisp air I summoned up my courage, and walked through the doorway before I could begin to analyse the situation any further.

The houses’ interior looked old and worn out. The walls seemed to be a bluish colour, though it was hard to tell in the dimness of the room. Directly to the left of the door, sat a large sofa, which seemed to be comfortable, if only because of how beat up it was. Tucked into the corner next to the sofa, was a dilapidated side table, that barely seemed to hold itself together. It was evidently deemed stable enough to set the plain, but functional candlestick on it. Laying on the floorboards directly in front of the sofa, was a threadbare rug so worn, that the color was fading from individual threads, rather than the fabric as a whole. Set into the far left corner, was a door. It presumably led to the rest of the house, which based on its size, was probably only a small bedroom and bathroom.

The right side of the room was dedicated to a small kitchenette and dining area. This area seemed to be tiled with some type of stone, and had in its centre, a small table with two chairs facing each other.

As soon as the door had shut, Gilda began to light the various candles that lay scattered around the room, with a strange device that she had retrieved from the table. It consisted of a long, thin brass rod, with a red, glowing crystal attached to it. When the crystal was touched to a wick, the wick would catch alight, immediately.

Once Gilda had finished lighting the room, she deposited the device back on the table from where she had obtained it, and motioned for me to take a seat in the kitchen.

Once I had complied Gilda walked over to the threadbare rug and hooked a claw underneath it, sweeping it off to one side. Underneath lay a trap door that I could only assume lead to the basement. This was swiftly opened, though this time, it warranted a grunt of effort on Gilda’s part. Frankly I didn’t blame her for that, it seemed to be made of the same heavy oak as the floor, and had iron reinforcements underneath it, to provide greater strength, as well as a latch that looked like it was made to lock it from the inside.

Without any apparent hesitation, Gilda began to descend down into the dark depths despite the lack of light. After a few steps down she glanced at me as if it was an afterthought.

“Don’t touch or move anything,” She commanded, “Just sit still and I’ll be back with our meal in a moment.”

So I did just that. I had already pushed my luck with the griffoness already, and I did not wish to destroy my chance at convincing her over something so petty as nosing around her things. Every so often a sound would emanate from the trapdoor and though I was tempted to follow her and see, just what it was that was down there I didn’t move an inch.

In fact this worked too well as my thoughts with nothing to occupying them soon drifted. It didn’t seem that this griffon would have any textile supplies herself, or even anything hoof-knitted or stitched at all. That would be the perfect gift for her to thank her for her kindness today, perhaps a scarf for the upcoming winter weather.

I knew that I should avoid these thoughts, but really, what was the point? All I did by denying them was make myself unhappy. Perhaps it was time for me to stop struggling and embrace the role that would best serve my fellow man.

I was so deeply engrossed in these thoughts that I did not even hear Gilda re-enter the room. I only became aware of her presence when a chipped plate was unceremoniously placed before me.

After that she went to the other side of the small table and placed a separate plate before herself, which featured a completely different colour and pattern from mine, before taking her own seat.

Examining what lay on the plate before me my brain took a few moments to compute what it was, it had been so long since I had seen it last.

“This is your challenge?” I questioned disbelievingly, “jerky?”

“Yes,” she replied simply, “you said hoomans were omnivores like griffons didn’t you? Just eat it all and you can consider me convinced.”

“Its pronounced humans, actually,” I replied almost unconsciously, a hint of annoyance entering my voice.

Picking it up with the first joint of my right forearm I examined it more closely. It looked like any everyday beef jerky you could find back on Earth but then again all jerky—no matter the donor—tended to look the same.

Bringing it closer to my face I took a tentative sniff where I was met with one of the strangest and disturbing sensation of my life. As soon as the heavenly aroma hit my nostrils I could feel my mouth begin to water in delight. However, this was also greeted by a feeling of disgust. How could anything possibly eat another living being? It was barbaric.

Slowly I became aware of my own thoughts. Even as the realisation hit me for what was causing it I could feel my eyes widen in terror at the implication and my heart begin to beat harder in my chest. It was my mark that was making me feel this way. I had eaten meat for practically every day of my life up until coming to Equestria, and I never once had an ethical qualm about it. It was the only logical explanation. Even now, this far away from the castle, I was still subjected to Celestia’s influence to turn me into the model little pony who was happy in chains.

I would need time to muster up the will to overcome this latest bout of mind manipulation, but I was trapped as any pausing on my part would look like hesitation to Gilda.

I would have to make small talk for a time to attempt to delay things.

“So what animals is it from?” I asked, whilst noting the disturbingly close scrutiny Gilda was giving me.

“I’m not sure,” She replied. Swiftly she picked up her own serving and took an aggressive bite from it. Taking a few moments to chew it she appeared to mull it over for a moment. “It’s deer.”

“Ah, venison, something I’ll admit to not having eaten much of.”

“Look, you can use all the correct terminology in the world, but until you eat it, you’ll still just be a pony.”

From her tone, it was clear that she was growing impatient, and so it would be impossible to stall her any longer.

Clearing my mind as best I could, I stuffed about half of the strip in my mouth so fast it was impossible to hesitate.

It was awkward to both bite and chew the jerky owing to the herbivorous dentistry I possessed, forcing me to employ a grinding motion, that made my sore jaw ache even more.

Swallowing down the fine paste I had reduced the jerky to, I only had a single thought. It was delicious, no amount of control exerted over me could change that. Though, despite this, there was still a part of me that felt off by eating it. Like I was somehow breaking a law, so ingrained, it was unnecessary to voice.

Certainly, there was no real physical danger from me eating this. I may now be a herbivore, but all that meant was that I wouldn’t get any real energy from this. As long as I didn’t eat it exclusively, I should be okay. Though, realistically, it would have to be a reasonably rare thing, or I could soon become malnourished.

Now that the initial step had been taken, and I had overcome my mark’s latest attempt at influencing me, I was able to finish the rest of my meal with little problem. Despite this, Gilda still watched me, like a proverbial hawk the entire time, and did not even attempt to eat her own serving.

“Well,” She spoke after I had swallowed the last bite, “you passed the test so I guess that proves it then.”

“Really, that’s it?” I asked, feeling slightly off put by her unruffled acceptance, “nothing besides a simple ‘I believe you’.”

“What did you expect, a parade in your honour, or something?” she sarcastically replied, rolling her eyes in the process.

She was right, what was there to do other than to accept it and move forward? Relaxing for the first time since I had first told my story to her, the true magnitude of what I had accomplished suddenly hit me. I had convinced someone of my humanity, and in doing, so gained an ally in this world who is not in some way connected to Celestia. I still had no idea what I was going to do with myself or my cutie mark now, but at least tomorrow looked a little less bleak.

Suddenly, I remembered about the Griffons I had witnessed in our journey to Gilda’s home.

“Gilda, now that I proven to you that I’m really not from this world, could you please tell me why all those griffons looked so sick?”

For a second, it appeared that I would garner the same response that I had the first time, her eyes seemed to flash dangerously, and her wings flared at her sides. But then, suddenly, she lost her fighting spirit. It came out of her in a whoosh that left her deflated, and looking much smaller than she really was, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“I was hoping I wouldn’t need to explain that to you,” she spoke in a voice far quieter than I had ever heard from her before, “It makes me a little weaker every time I have to tell that story.”

“What story?” I inquired, feeling guilty for making my saviour feel so vulnerable, “Please Gilda, be strong, like I know you are.”

Glancing up at me, I could just see the slight mistiness from her eyes in the glow of the candles. Giving off a deep sigh, she began to speak in a monotone, as if what she was saying was ingrained in her memory.

There was once a time when the royal sisters were not the leaders they are now, when they did not rule over pony and griffon kind. They were once nothing but spiritual leaders, tasked with raising the sun and moon each day and night. With them was their mother, The Lady, Queen of Nature and its eternal protector. Under their care, the ponies of Equestria never wanted for anything. The sisters shouldered the burden of controlling the celestial objects in place of the unicorns, and their mother controlling the weather in place of the pegasi. In this way, the land of Equestria was a utopia, in which the ponies could pursue happiness for their entire lives and never want for anything.

At the same time existed the Griffon Empire, located in now what is modern northern Equestria. A proud nation, they looked on the ponies kingdom at what was first envy, thought it soon transformed into greed.

Once in the past, all races had their own corporeal gods. But as time went on, they faded, departed or died, leaving their chosen race to fend for themselves. In this, the griffons were a unique case, in that mythology spoke of the death of their gods at the claws of the very people they protected, the griffons growing tired of the eternal manipulation they represented. Supposedly, the entire dynasty of the empire’s rulers were descendents of the hero who had struck the first and final blow against the gods.

About 1500 years ago, one of the descendents of the god killer—and the then emperor—looked at Equestria with ambition. If he were to kill the god of another race, then his name would be spoken with the same reverence as his ancestors were, remembered until the end of time.

So the armies of the Griffon Empire marched. Being so mighty and numerous as to block out the sun as they flew by.

During this war both of the sisters lived in separate parts of the country where they walked amongst mortals and attempted to provide any kindness that they could. However, the Queen never once stepped outside of the capital, always ready to dispense advice to the nation’s leaders or mediate quarrels between the separate tribes, as it was in this day that their unification was only a few years old.

Every day, the army penetrated deeper into Equestria and closer to its capital city. No force that the ponies could muster was able to even slow their advance. Eventually, they made camp outside the capital, which had sparse troops to defend it.

Even then, The Lady still insisted that she and her daughters were to remain above the conflict. It was their duty to spread love and happiness in the world, not suffering.

One dark winter’s night, the griffons began their final assault on the city, and were soon in control of her battlements.

From there, they began their advance into the streets below, occupying anything of importance along the way, and pacifying those who would not submit.

During this time, the emperor himself took a troop of his elite personal guard, and began to search for his prey.

They found her at the shrine dedicated to nature, and it was there they fought; the mortal emperor, and the immortal goddess. The battle raged for hours, with no end in sight. Each combatant never seeming to gain the upper claw. Eventually, the emperor was able to land the killing blow, and he stood triumphant over his dying enemy.

Upon The Lady’s death, a great cry of pain rose up from the city. The intensity so great, that the griffon warriors believe that demons from Tartarus had risen to the mortal realm.

It was not this. Somehow, the ponies had all been linked to the immortal queen, and upon her death they were struck with the excruciating pain that she experienced in her dying moments. Nearly half died that night, unable to cope with the pain after living for so long without it. Others still were driven insane and left as babbling fools.

Taking advantage of this, the emperor was able to quickly pacify the entire city, and the surrounding area. All known leaders who were still alive were put to the sword, regardless of their mental faculties. Afters this, for a time, every griffon celebrated.

The two sisters immediately knew about their mothers death, and were consumed with rage. Gathering the final remnants of the Equestrian army they began their own march on the city.

Through the employments of powerful magics, their oath of non-involvement forgotten, they arrived at the city in a few short days.

In this time, the emperor had grown arrogant, and had neglected to begin rebuilding the defences of the city. He instead allowed for his troops to remain idle, as they raped, pillaged, and drunk as they saw fit.

The royal sisters fell on the city with furious vengeance, and were able to slay most of the griffons, including the emperor, within with little assistance from their own army. From here, they began to systematically destroy any garrisons that had been left behind in the initial griffon advance. Soon enough, more than half the griffon population also lay dead, and where they once experienced victory, they now knew only defeat. This all happened in the space of a week.

But the solar and lunar deities could not bring themselves to drive us to extinction, so they instead opted for a different approach. With the empire completely defeated, all of her cities were absorbed into Equestria, and the griffons were spread out to all of the different cities, in each one becoming a minority, even in those which they themselves founded.

In this, the sisters hoped to change our nature to that of the ponies we were now subjugated to. They banned us from eating meat and hunting, whilst hoping that we would soon integrate into the communities, so that one day we would be no different.

At the same time, the sisters ascended to the thrones of the newly reformed Equestrian government, and made the promise that they would never again stand idle, whilst the ponies that they protected were under threat.

So is the tale of the griffon’s fate, may we never forget it, so that in some way, we are still what we once were.

Upon uttering the last sentence, a silence fell between the two of us.

Gilda looked exhausted and drained, her wings hanging limply by her sides. Eyes that were once bright and fierce, were now glazed over and distant. What scared me most, was that she looked more like the other griffons we had met in the street, than the one who had given me a chance to prove myself.

“Gilda, I’m so sorry,” I sadly spoke, laying my hoof on top of her claw in an attempt to comfort her.

“I don’t need your sympathy,” she snapped, wrenching her claw away.

Strangely enough, I was relieved by her reaction. At least now, a little bit of her usual attitude was returning.

She roughly picked up all the jerky on her plate, and swallowed it in two bites

“Every griffon’s taught that thing from the moment we’re born, word for word. It’s so that Celestia can never make us forget what she did to us all those years ago.”

“But then if meat’s illegal why do you have it?” I questions, though I could already guess the answer.

“Ancestors are you really that thick?” Her voice regained a little bit of its arrogance, “I’m a poacher, okay? I hunt animals, and then trade them for cash and other stuff.”

“But then what do the griffons eat that can’t get meat?”

“Feat,” she stated simply

“Feat?” I repeat quizzically, cocking my head to one side.

“Yeah, y’know. Fake meat. Feat. It’s some plant that’s meant to be a good replacement for the real stuff. It’s got some pony name as well Tobu, Tofu, Tomu, something like that. Anyway whatever it is, it doesn’t work properly and that’s why all those giffons looked so sick”

At the end of this explanation, silence once again fell between us, only interrupted by Gilda giving an enormous yawn that gave me a clear view of a secondary set of sharp teeth, housed behind her beak.

Without any warning, she suddenly made to stand, stretching like a cat in the process.

“Well, I don’t know about you but I’m going to bed. This day lasted long enough.”

“Um, Gilda,” I awkwardly began, “would it b—.”

“Its fine for you to stay here for tonight,” she interrupted whilst giving a weary shake of her head.

“I’ve got some spare blankets, though you’ll have to sleep on the coach.”

Giving a brief nod of thanks, I watched Gilda depart through the doorway only to reappear a minute later with a bundle of cloth.

“Well, goodnight,” She said, “I’ll see you in the morning, though I should warn you I’m up fairly early.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” I mumbled. I had not realised until that exact moment, how tired I really was. It had been a long day, and nowhere near an easy one.

I started to arrange the blankets into something that would make a serviceable bed. By the time that it was beginning to take shape I heard the screech of the slowly shutting door.

“Oh, and Gilda,” I began, still working on my bed and facing away from the door. I didn’t receive any verbal confirmation that Gilda was even there, though the door did halt its movement. “Thank you, for everything.”

I didn’t receive any response from her but the soft shutting of the door.

Letting out a mighty yawn, I blew out the few candles in the room and collapsed gratefully into my bed, where oblivion awaited me.

Chapter 7

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

―Edgar Allan Poe, excerpt from ‘The Raven’

I was in a field, a luscious sea of green surrounding me and stretching further than my eyes could see. Dispersed in between this were splashes of colour, flowers of such beauty, that they would have put any artist to shame. The red of roses, the yellow of daffodils and the purple of violets mixed together with no bias along with others of colours that I could never hope to accurately name.

Above me was a clear blue sky, without a single cloud to tarnish it. Resting almost directly overhead, the beautiful jewel that was the sun shone merrily down upon me, and the verdant meadow.

To complete the image, a warm summer’s breeze wafted gently through the grass, bringing with it the scent of the innumerable flowers that surrounded me.

“Joshua,” a clear, sweet voice suddenly called out from behind me, “it’s so good to see you.”

Without any warning, I was greeted with an arm snaking behind my back, and pulling me into a warm hug. After a few brief moments of confusion I felt soft lips press into my left cheek which was reciprocated by the warming of my face. Then just as quickly as the sensation was there it was gone and instead I saw standing before me another pony.

She was undoubtedly a mare, that was already clear just from her voice. But even without that, there was just something about her that oozed femininity. Perhaps it was the flutter of her lilac eyes or the welcoming smile that she gave. Somehow, I could just tell.

Her coat was a light yellow colour. So light, that she was only a shade above white. To complement this, her mane was an aquamarine that, just by looking at it, reminded me of the colour of the sea on a hot summer’s day. She was noticeably shorter than me, but that somehow just added to her appeal.

I noticed that her eyes seemed to slowly drift down towards my feet before giving of an excited gasp.

“Is that for me?” She questioned hopefully, giving a slight bounce on the spot.

Slightly confused I looked down to see just what it was she was staring at. It was a present, a box done up in green wrapping paper that matched her mane with a large yellow bow on top.

“Uhh... sure, I guess.”

Though I did pick it up and hoof it to her, in my mind I was reeling. I couldn’t grasp why, but something felt wrong. Like I didn’t belong here.

My thoughts were interrupted, when the mare gave yet another gasp, this time one of delight.

“Oh, Clickity! It’s perfect!”

Held up in her hooves was a red scarf, which had stitched onto it a few tiny pale blue stars that complimented the mischievous glint in her eyes. Upon sighting it I gave a start and recoiled in panic. But after a moment the feeling passed, and I was left wondering just what it was that happened. Why did seeing the products of my special talent scare me?

Out of curiosity, I picked up the now-empty box that the mare had hurriedly discarded. Gazing inside I did not know what I expected to see, but I was unsurprised when the empty bottom greeted me.

Looking back up, it seemed that my companion had not noticed my odd behavior. She was too busy admiring herself in a small mirror that had probably always been there. She twisted in all manner of poses, as if she was some kind of model, her smile reflected absolute joy.

At seeing her, I could feel the glow of happiness within myself. It was always so nice to see the happiness a hoof made gift could bring to somepony.

“Please, it’s nothing,” I found myself saying, “it is my special talent, after all.”

“Hey, buddy! How’s it going?” A voice suddenly spoke, just off to my right.

It was Shieldwing, for the first time ever not wearing his armour, his white coat glowed in the sun. For a few moments, I stared at him in shock. Really, after yesterday, I didn’t expect to ever see him again.

Wait... What happened yesterday? For a few moments, I simply stood, trying to remember. Whenever I tried to cast my mind back, I only managed the fuzziest of recollections. Something about... a party?

“Oh, cool! Is that one for me?” Shield suddenly spoke, flashing that grin that he could only pull off without looking like a complete idiot.

Looking down once again, sitting on the grass before me was a package, practically identical to the last one. Though, this time, the wrapping paper was blue and the bow was white.

This time, I did not hesitate to give him the gift. Unwrapping it revealed a black cardigan, with the initials SW embroidered on the breast in fancy script.

Upon looking at it, Shieldwing’s face took on an expression that was nearly identical to the mare’s, when she had received her gift. Before I could even react, he had rushed forward and pulled me into a bone-crushing hug. Alongside this, I was filled with the exact same sense of pride and warmth as I had after giving the mare her gift.

“Is that one mine?”                                                                 

“I’m so excited to see what Clickity Clack made for me!”

“I can hardly wait!”

“Oh boy, oh boy!”

Once Shieldwing had withdrawn, I became aware of a seemingly innumerable number of ponies that surrounded us, conversing with each other excitedly. Though, for some reason, I expected them to rush forward and crush us, they seemed to all be content to wait. They formed around us in a circle that maintained a respectful distance. The crowd was an eclectic mix of colours, every single colour and shade represented somewhere. There even seemed to be an equal mix of gender. Some of them were standing, whilst others were laying down or sitting on their hindquarters, but every single one shared the same expression, anticipation.

Stepping forward was another stallion, this one having a green coat complemented by a blue mane. Staring at him for a moment in confusion, I glance back to my side, only to realise that Shieldwing had vanished.

Shrugging this off I quickly gave him his gift, somehow selecting it out as being his from the pile of gifts that now sat at my hooves.

I offered it to him swiftly, eager to once again experience the elation that came along with embracing my special talent.

As soon as he had it, he gave a few words of praise and appreciation before melting back into the crowd, only to immediately be replaced by another of its members.

So, the process continued for a length of time that I couldn’t even hope to guess. Despite the repetition, I never grew tired or bored, as each benefactor always expressed their thanks in a new way that coincided with a euphoria that made me feel whole.

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of black out of the corner of my eye. It was made glaringly obvious, by the others’ vibrant colours.

Turning to look, ignoring the sigh of disappointment from the next in line, I caught sight of it.

The dark figure, the one that haunted my dreams. It was standing as one in the crowd. Somehow I knew that it was staring at me intensely even though I could see no eyes beneath the black cloak that surrounded its entire form and shrouded its face in shadow.

As soon as I laid eyes on it, I gasped out in terror and backpedalled until I was up against the far side of the clearing, the press of the crowd preventing me from going any further.

Taking a small step forward, it paused for a moment. Dread filling my heart, as black heavy clouds seemed to roll in from nowhere, hiding the sun and somehow making the now silent ponies appear menacing, looking like mourners at a burial.

“Dream, or nightmare?” it questioned, speaking in an eerily familiar female voice.

The words cut struck me to the very core of my being, making me shiver and feel incredibly lost.

Despite my happiness, something didn’t seem right. I wasn’t meant to feel this way about my mark, was I? I was meant to be... fighting it?

But that couldn’t be right, could it? Everypony knows that their cutie mark is a representation of what makes them special. It would be a tragedy to not share it with the world.

Though the figure remain looking at me with the void that concealed its face for a few moments, it did not remain. Just as quickly as it appeared it seemed to meld back into the crowd from which it appeared.

As soon as the figure had vanished from sight the clouds that blocked the sun seemed to suddenly dissipate and the crowd once again began its lively chatter.

When the next pony stepped forward, I hoofed him his gift without any hesitation. However, this time the now familiar feeling of gratification didn’t appear. Instead, I felt hollow. As if the most important part of me had been ripped out.

Despite this minor deterrence, I pushed forward. If nothing else, it was my duty to give these ponies, who made an effort to come and find me, their gifts.

But, the next one still did not produce any pleasant feeling. Rather, it made me feel off. Something was definitely not right, though I could not put my hoof on it.

When the next pony stepped forward, I made to give her the gift, but just before it was about to exchange hooves I hesitated.

Doubtingly, I looked at the mare. She gave me an encouraging smile, and stretched her forearms closer, though she never once made to take the package. As I stared at her, the realisation began to dawn on me, the fogginess of my mind began to dissipate.

I could remember it all now, Earth, my transformation, the mark. This was not who I was, I was a human. I was meant to stand unbound by the fates and manipulations, and bask in liberty’s light.

“NO!” I suddenly screamed, pushing back the mare in front of me, “This isn’t me. This is not right, IT’S NOT RIGHT.

Stumbling backwards the mare appeared more confused than angry, looking at me with inquisitive eyes. What unsettled me about it, was that she never once made to speak. Even as the crowd’s constant chatter faded into a drone. Slowly, I backed away, though I was brought to a stop when my backside collided with the wall of ponies, cutting off my retreat.

I became aware that I still had her package clutched in my arms. As I stared down at it with abstract fury, it suddenly burst into flames.

Letting out a yelp of surprise, I tossed the package away from me. By luck, it landed in the pile of gifts that was still resting where I had left it, the exact same height as it had been when I had first laid eyes on it.

With a ‘Fwoomf’, the whole stack was suddenly on fire. It seemed to burn with a brilliance far greater than what would be expect of a light source of its size.

The mare that had been meant to receive the gift gave out a cry of alarm, and rushed toward the flames. Without any hesitation, she stuck her hooves into the blaze, trying to dig her gift out.

Her actions seemed to break the floodgates. Suddenly, the whole crowd seemed to rush towards the flames, parting around me like a wave.

Just as quickly as the fire had caught the pile, the crowd was suddenly flaming, the collective light so bright that I was forced to shield my eyes, whilst attempting to look on in horror.

But they kept on burning, not a single one uttering a cry of pain or attempting to extinguish themselves. They all simply stood there, as the flames licked at their coats and manes, reducing everything to ash.

A few of them somehow managed to retrieve their gifts from the flame, clutching them tightly to their chests as they smiled in pure bliss, all whilst they were eaten alive by the fire.

Soon, all that was left was their charred skeletons, though they did not collapse but instead stood upright in the very same manner as they had when they were still living.

Then, with no warning, they all began to move again. Every single one turned, slowly, to stare at me. The burning gifts casting dark shadows on the charred ground, in spite of the sun overhead.

As the skeletons affixed me with leering smiles and empty, soulless eyes, I could no longer hold back my terror. I screamed with all my might and suddenly the world around me seemed to shatter.

*****

I awoke with a start, propelling myself into a sitting position in the process.

My pulse was thundering in my ears, and my breathing came in sharp shallow gasps.

The compulsion to knit was bearing down on me so heavily that I could only summon the most meagre defence against it.

I wanted my life to be like that dream, to share my talent with everypony and make them all happy. All I could feel at that was terror.

I was losing control, there was no doubt, I would be gone by the time that the sun rose and Clickity Clack would be all that was left.

But I wasn’t going to let that happen, I would die before I let it.

Lurching upward, I hurriedly made my way over to the kitchenette, almost tripping over in the process on account of my legs still being entangled in the blanket.

I knew what I needed to do. I could no longer fight my mark, I had lost, there was only one option left to me.

Wasting no time, I began to rummage through the drawers, paying no mind to the ruckus I was making.

I roughly pulled out the first drawer and sifted through it, finding only dull, tarnished forks and butter knives. With wild abandon, I wrench it out of the cupboard and let it crash to the ground, cutlery spilling over the stone tiles with a loud metallic clatter.

The second was also of little help, this time seeming to contain a number of washcloths and other cleaning utensils. I gave it the same treatment as the first.

So I continued on, searching through drawer after drawer finding nothing put everyday kitchenware that had no use for me.

By the time I reached the final row of drawers, my blind panic was beginning to be overtaken by despair. If I could not find what I needed, I would have no way to stop my mind from being overtaken by some outside influence, and I would die in all but name.

I pulled out the second-to-last unopened drawer, barely glancing over the various shapes inside, before shutting it again. Catching myself I pulled it out again and was graced with one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

It was a dagger, long and thin. Stored in a sheath made of hardened leather, with slight steel reinforcements at its tip that ran up along its sides. The leather wrapped handle itself was obviously made for a griffon, it being too short to be comfortably grasped in a forearm or mouth. It did at least seem possible for me to hold, though it would be tenuous. Grasping its hilt as best I could, I quickly drew it, holding the sheath with my teeth.

The blade was double edged, with a fuller that ran down the center of the flat. Testing it on the tip of my hoof I could feel immediately that the edge was razor sharp and well maintained.

It was perfect.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, though it did little to calm my beating heart, I prepared myself for what I was about to do.

The elongated neck of my pony form made it easy to look back at my rump. The mark was still there, the ball of yarn and the two needles seemed to be such an innocent thing. I knew that that image would be forever burned into my brain, no matter the outcome of this night.

I first attempted to bring the blade back to its target on my left side, though this proved fruitless as the length of my body, coupled with my left foreleg getting in the way, prevented me from properly reaching it.

Instead I opted to sit down and by an awkward contorting of my frame I managed to have the dagger pressed against my coat.

Though I could not feel it at first as I began to apply more and more pressure I slowly became aware of the coolness of the blade. This was followed shortly afterwards by the beginning of the slightest of pain, no worse than the couple of times I had cut myself while cooking.

Taking a final deep breath I shut my eyes tight and thrust the blade downwards with as much force as I could muster. The pain hit my like a wall, making my grip on the knife weaken though I gritted my teeth and kept pushing. Second by agonizing second I could feel the blade move through my flesh. I still could not muster the courage to look at the damage I was causing my body, I knew myself well enough to know that if could see it, I wouldn’t be able to continue.

Finally, even though it felt like an eternity and my body was wracked with pain, I felt the dagger come free and I heard the wet sound of flesh hitting the floor.

By now, my breaths were coming in ragged gasps and my legs were shaking so alarmingly that I didn’t even try to stand.

For as long as I could, I resisted the urge to look at my self-mutilation. For a few minutes, it felt like I would succeed. In this time, I could feel the warm trickle of blood forging a path through my coat and dripping down onto the floor. I knew that there was no alternate path for me but to look eventually. If I didn’t, then I would bleed out and be left a free—but dead—man.

Slowly, I tried to bring my breathing back under control and it seemed to work slightly as they no longer sounded so ragged, though their speed did not decrease. Halfway there, I repeated like a mantra in my head, all I had left to do was check this side to make sure I had gotten every little bit and then repeat the process with the other side.

Opening my eye a crack the first blur that coalesced into a shape was the dagger itself. Where before it had been blindingly clean, now to was coated in blood, the bright red liquid running in rivets down its lengths and onto my foreleg.

Eventually, everything was once again in focus, and I gazed on my butchered flank in abstract horror. I had only managed to cut off about a third of it. The bulk of the ball itself remained, the part where the two needles once stuck out being replaced instead by a long deep gash that was bleeding profusely. The metallic stench of blood overwhelmed every other smell in the room.

Steeling myself I knew that I would need to hurry. I already was beginning to feel slightly light headed by the blood loss, and my shaking limbs were growing numb.

Bringing the blade up against my mark again I began to cut before I could hesitate any further. As soon as it pierced my skin a wave of dizziness and nausea swept over me that seemed to exacerbate the pain that I could feel in my side.

Swooning slightly on the spot, I could feel my grip on the knife loosen and begin to slide from my hoof. Making a grab at it as best I could the signals seemed to arrive a moment too late. As I saw it begin to fall I re-established my hold over it, managing to grasp onto its very edge.

I stood there, having no possible way to readjust the knife I was stuck in limbo. The knife’s handle was coated in blood, my blood, making it slippery. I could feel my grip gradually failing until eventually I could only observe in despair as it spiralled to the floor. As I watched it seemed to move in slow motion, flipping twice, end over end, before the handle collided with the ground with a ring, only to bounce up before returning to the ground with a sequence of successively smaller clatters.

Wasting no time I frantically clamored to retrieve it. However, the width of the dagger, coupled with the blood that coated it, made it impossible for me to retrieve it with the clumsiness of my handless limbs. I attempted it at least half a dozen times, growing more panicked as each one ended in failure. Once, I managed to lift it off of the ground, but my tenuous grip soon left it slipping out once again.

The realisation slowly dawned on me. There was no way that I could even hope to do this on my own, and there was only one person who could possibly help me.

With a great effort, I pulled myself onto my shaking hooves. As quickly as I could, I stumbled over to the doorway that Gilda had vanished through, only a few hours earlier. A smaller part of my mind was left to wander in awe at just how heavily she slept, having evidently not even noticed the racket that I had made previously.

As I stumbled across the room, I could hear the patter of the blood that I left in my wake, though the room itself was too dark for me to be able to see them make out any mark on the dark floor.

I was beginning to feel woozy, and I knew that there would not be much time left before I blacked out from shock and blood loss.

Managing to reach the door was a small victory, and I rested up against it for a moment to collect my strength.

Struggling to raise my hoof it simply refused to carry out what my brain was telling it to do. When I had fought it to an acceptable height it hung there, trembling slightly and for a moment it felt like it would fall back down to the ground. Somehow I managed to prevent this and with as much force as I could muster I began to slam it into the door repeatedly, not even pausing as I knew that if I did I wouldn’t be able to start again.

“Gilda,” I called, my voice sounding rough, and pathetically weak to even me.

Suddenly the door was wrenched open, sending me stumbling forward after my support was taken from me. Thankfully I ran into something that was covered in something so soft it made me even sleepier just leaning against it but refused to budge an inch, even after my full weight had collapsed onto it.

Looking up at what it was that had saved me from falling, I was greeted with the dangerously narrowed eyes of a predator only a couple of centimetres away from my own.

“Just what in Tartarus are you doing making all this noise,” spoke the unmistakably angry voice of Gilda.

Being so close to her I easily caught sight of the minute movement of her eye, along with their slight widening, that signified her noticing the mess that I had left behind.

“What have you done to my place?” she questioned, her tone moving away from anger and instead adopting a coldness that was even more dangerous.

Too weary to give the full explanation I instead opted to turn my torso slightly, giving her a clear view of my cutie mark, or at least what remain.

As soon as she did, I could see her eyes widen even further, so much that I half expected them to fall out, as she peered at me with undisguised shock.

“Gilda,” I croaked, “I’m not strong enough, please you have to finish it for me.”

“What in the deepest depths of Tartarus is wrong with you, you crazy horse?!” she shrieked, “I leave you alone for a few hours, and you start cutting pieces off of yourself!”

“Please, you don’t understand. It’s in my mind, if I don’t get it off, then it’s going to kill me. It wants destroy my human thoughts and replace them with pony ones.”

“You really are just crazy, aren’t you?” She questioned, before mumbling to herself so softly I could barely hear her, “Typical, serves me right for believing some dweeb I met in a bar.”

By now my vision was beginning to swim and was beginning to wilt under Gilda’s stare. Deep down I didn’t blame her, really I doubted my own sanity at the moment.

“Please Gilda,” I begged her for the second time, desperation filling my tone, “I can’t do this on my own, you need to do it for me.”

“Yeah right, like I’m going to do that,” she spoke with a snort of derision, “if I do, then the next thing I know the city guard will be busting down my door and hauling me off to jail.”

“Gilda, you said you believed me before, about being human. I need you to believe me again. If you don’t, then you’ll have left me to die.”

By now I was sprawled before her with my two forehooves clasped together in front of me. I was begging her, pride be damned. What good would it do me now if I wasn’t even here to have it.

“I’m sorry Joshua,” she spoke, her tone cold, “I can’t risk it, you’ll have to leave.”

At her words despair crashed down onto me so heavily I almost surrendered myself over to my mark, at least it would be less painful, and I wouldn’t spend the final moments huddled in fear out on the street.

“Here,” she said, a hint of kindness entering her voice, “I’ll bandage you up. I owe you that much.”

Still watching her with dread she turned around as I saw her form disappear into the bathroom off to one side, followed shortly by the sound of drawers being rummaged through.

Slowly my head began to droop down until it was comfortably nestled in my readjusted forelegs. I could feel my heavy eyelids begin to shut, as I let out a mighty yawn. I was so tired of fighting, all I needed to do was fall asleep and everything would be over.

NO! My head suddenly whipping up and my eyes widening in defiance. I did not come this far to give up at the final hurdle. I had already convinced Gilda once all I needed to do was do it again. The facts were laid out before me, all I needed to do was present them to her logically and I would finally be free.

Already my eyes were beginning to droop again, but I was not going down without a fight. With as much force as I could muster I brought my head down towards the floor. Upon impact stars exploded in my vision accompanied by a loud crack caused by my forehead making contact with the ground. Shaking my head to clear it I began to organise my thoughts.

It seemed the medical supplies were giving her some trouble if the soft curses were anything to go by. Luckily this gave me a few extra moments to arrange my argument, though my swimming head and the constant trickling sensation from my wound did not make it easy. I tried to focus more on the hot pain, to keep my head.

Eventually Gilda returned with a triumphant expression and a roll of gauze clutched in one of her claws. With a supreme amount of effort I hauled myself to my feet with a groan. Not even pausing she began to make her way over to me, which I delayed by positioning my body between my cut and her.

“Gilda, wait,” I spoke, whilst continually having to reorientate myself to prevent her from bandaging my wound. It was almost comical, a sort of awkward game where we circled each other in some bizarre dance.

Gilda’s patience seemed to reach its end fairly quickly as she gave an annoyed growl and slowed to a halt.

Taking the opportunity I launched straight into my argument, a state of calm falling over me as adrenaline coursed through my veins, seeming to dull the pain from the various injuries that afflicted me.

“Just think Gilda,” I started, trying to maintain a sense of balance whilst looking into her piercing gaze, “how important is a cutie mark in the eyes of the pony that has it?”

It seemed that the griffoness was reluctant to cooperate this time around, as for several seconds we stared at each other in silence, a battle of wits where no words were exchanged.

“Very,” she finally admitted grudgingly.

Seizing the opening she had made I pushed the advantage.

“And when we talked yesterday, did I seem crazy to you?”

“No,” This time the response came more readily, though I could still hear the hesitation in her voice.

“And I have already convinced you that I am not a pony. So it only stands to reason that what I’m saying is true.”

This time the silence continued on much longer. One minute passed, then another. By halfway through the next one I was so tense that I couldn’t move a muscle, even if I wanted to.

All throughout this time Gilda seemed to look at me searchingly, seeming to weigh up every insignificant detail about me before passing her judgement.

“Forget you,” Gilda suddenly broke the silence, speaking with a tone almost of disbelief, “I must be the crazy one around here.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” I questioned, hope dawning in my heart.

Gilda let out a heavy sigh, and nodded briefly, before quickly retrieving the knife from where I had dropped it, flicking off some of my blood that coated it. She simply stood there for a while, making no move to leave the tiled section of the room and approach me.

“Well hurry up before I change my mind,” she growled, “I don’t want any more of your blood all over my stuff.”

At a rapid a pace as I could manage I limped over to her, though I was thankful for the small size of the room, as I was still incredibly unstable on my feet.

Taking the initiative I laid my belly down on the cold floor in much the same style as a dog would.

Bringing the knife down slowly it appeared that Gilda was just as unsure as me about what she was doing, though she would never admit that.

As the knife grew closer I gradually shut my eyes until they were squeezed shut so tightly that I could feel the entirety of my face scrunching up.

Just as I felt the knife touch me again a bolt of panic struck me.

“Wait!” I cried, hurriedly searching for an excuse.

It appeared that by having someone else wield the knife it made it far harder to control myself. Sure, it was difficult when I had to do it, but at least I could predict exactly when the pain was going to start.

“A gag,” I exclaimed, overtaken by sudden inspiration.

Looking back at me Gilda gave me a strange look, “I’m not into that kinky shit.”

“No, I need one to keep me from screaming, or biting my tongue off.”

Giving an annoyed groan she gave a quick appraisal of the room before noticing something off to her side. It was the pile of junk that I had created, from which with little effort she was able to obtain a washcloth from, in the process causing a large section to collapse, creating a noise so loud that I instinctively flinched.

Before I could even react she stepped over to me and violently shoved it into my mouth. Letting out a muffled cry of surprise I tried to fight her off in a blind panic, swatted away her arm as best I could though she was far stronger than me and persisted with little effort.

“Look do you want a gag or not?” She angrily questioned all whilst forcing it in even further.

Her words cut through the haze of my panic and re-established my logical thought. Falling into silence I patiently waited for her to complete the process, fighting down my rising fear as the moment where the cutting would begin drew nearer.

Finally it was done and the true test of my humanity would begin.

“Are you ready?” Gilda questioned, laying a comforting claw on my back.

Abstractly I realised that this was the first time that Gilda had willingly touched me, though now was not the time to be analysing that realisation.

“Mrmph,” I replied, giving a resolute nod of my head, the gag restricting making my speech entirely incomprehensible.

“Okay, well... Here goes.”

After the briefest of pauses I could begin to feel the knife come into contact with my skin, its touch once again causing an involuntary spasm from my leg .

Then, suddenly, the knife bit into my flesh, and I was overwhelmed with pain. I could feel it moving just below my skin and its path left searing agony in its wake.

For the third time in my life I screamed without constraint, the muffled cries that escaped sounding insignificant compared to the energy that I exerted into each one.

My world was entirely focussed on my flank, and in that world was nothing but pain.

Dimly I became aware of another piece of my mark falling to the ground and the pain lessening enough that I could exert enough will to stop screaming.

Gilda spoke to me then, but in my world the words held no meaning and soon enough silence once again returned.

As suddenly as I experienced relief did I once again experience suffering as the blade invaded the other side of my body.

Once again did I scream without restraint, but this time it was accompanied by the edges of my vision succumbing to blackness.

Ushering up the last little bit of my will, I forced the darkness back. I would not allow it to claim me, until I knew that my chains had been broken.

So my agony continued. I did not know for how long I existed in the narrow world of suffering, but suddenly I felt the knife leave me for a final time. I experienced the sensation of the mark gradually lose contact with my body and I felt the rush of jubilation that accompanied it. But I would not allow myself celebration just yet, there was one final task for Gilda to complete.

Weakly, I attempted to pull the gag out of my mouth but the clumsiness of my appendage, coupled with the blood loss that sapped my strength, made it an impossible task.

Thankfully Gilda quickly caught on to what I was doing and without pause wrenched it out.

“Wow,” she began, “you must be a tougher bastard than I th—“

“Burn it,” I interrupted, not caring for the rudeness of doing so.

Catching onto my meaning she made her way over to the pot bellied stove that sat in one corner of the kitchen and began to pile wood into it.

At first, I tried to stand, though my limbs by now seemed to lack the strength to do so. My first attempt succeeded in getting my underside off the ground, but that only lasted for a few seconds before my quivering muscles gave out and sent me back to the floor, only leaving me winded. Eventually, I gave up and awkwardly managed to shift myself enough so that I could get a face-on view of the stove.

The blood was flowing down my coat still, but it seemed that the left side had begun to slow. The sensation of blood not being as prevalent as it did on my right—and more recently cut—side. Furthermore, I could also noticed that it had started to congeal, as every time I shifted, I could feel it tug uncomfortably on my coat.

I was fighting with all my might to stay conscious, as my vision seemed to fade in and out. My head was so heavy by now that I could simply no longer hold it up, and was forced to once again rest it against my forehooves. By this point I was running entirely on adrenaline, and even that was beginning to run low.

Soon enough, Gilda had made a roaring fire that crackled merrily, it would be perfect for the final step.

Perhaps sensing that I had little time left, she hurriedly retrieved the scraps of flesh still besides me and threw them into the awaiting flames.

They caught alight almost immediately, beginning to blacken and curl as the thin strips were subjected to the purifying heat. I stared intently as the various different parts of the needles and yarn were overtaken and replaced.

At the same time, the parts of my coat still attached began to give off a thick black smoke that caused the smell of burning hair to fill the room.

From the expression on Gilda’s face she found the aroma of the burning hair unpleasant as she did her best to cover her nostrils.

For me on the other hand, it was the most glorious thing I had ever smelt, my freedom.

Only once I saw the final bit of red overtaken by the flames did I allow unconsciousness to claim me. The final thing that I heard before I lost myself to it was Gilda frantically calling out my name.

My real name.

Chapter 8

I will always remember that with my knowledge I am to heal the sick and injured and so will place their wellbeing as the highest of goals, above all others.

―Excerpt of the medic’s oath that is taken by all members of the medical field, regardless of occupation within, upon graduation from their training.

I slowly became aware of the sunlight piercing through my closed eyelids, forcing me awake when all I wanted to do was rest. Letting out a weak groan, I made to roll over in an attempt to shield my vision from the blinding, unwanted intrusion.

Suddenly, I heard the a clattering of hooves as a shadow fell over me, blocking the accursed sun. Simultaneously I felt a hoof gently push against my chest, coaxing me to keep my back firmly against the mattress.

“Easy, honey. Just lie still,” a soft female voice instructed me.

Complying, I shifted myself slightly to get more comfortable, letting out a contented sigh in the process, and awaited for the gentle lull for sleep to retake me.

Wait! Hoof? Soft voice? That wasn’t Gilda.

Snapping my eyes open, the world that greeted me was fuzzy and out of focus. However, it didn’t need to be clear for me to know that the orange and yellow blob didn’t belong amongst the earthy tones that composed the rest of the room.

“W-who’s there,” I weakly called, hating myself for the frailty of my voice.

“It’s alright,” the blob said, laying a hoof on my shoulder that I unconsciously recoiled away from. “You’re fine, you passed out last night from blood loss, do you remember?”

Suddenly, the events of the night before came back to me in a rush. Every excruciating moment seemed to piece itself together until I could remember everything from the touch of the cold metal to the smell of burning hair. However, I only felt joy at the memory, pure and unadulterated; I had finally gotten rid of that loathsome mark that had plagued me for too long.

As I lay there, my vision slowly began to focus, gradually revealing a mare looking at me with kind green eyes. She was coloured a light orange complemented by a yellow mane done up in a loose bun. Her most eye catching feature was the horn that protruded from her forehead, glowing bright yellow as it hummed with unknown magics.

“Ah, he’s awake I see,” said a soft-spoken male voice from the other side of the bed. Slightly alarmed, I turned my head only to find myself face to face with a yellow coated griffon. He seemed to be in reasonably good health, a lot better than others that I had encountered, though his build was skinny in such a way that it gave his posture a severe, even predatory, sharpness. Interestingly, he had a pair of armless moon shaped glasses that set perched on his dark grey beak, enhancing the stern expression he was giving me.

They both seemed to be around middle age, he with greying around the tips of some feathers that appeared sporadically throughout their otherwise black expanse and she by the slight greyness that were at the very roots of her mane.

“What’s going on? Who are you?” I questioned, whipping my gaze repeatedly between the two of them.

“Well to paraphrase,” the griffon spoke in a strict tone, “you lost an extensive amount of blood last night, not to mention the massive lacerations on both of your flanks, both of which required serious medical attention.” His eyes seemed to grow sharper for a moment as he continued. “Attention that my wife and I were hired to perform.”

“What my husband means to say,” the mare continued with a role of her eyes, “is that I’m Golden Poppy and he’s Doctor Frederick.”

By now, I believed I was fully awake, though I wasn’t entirely sure. Everything just seemed so surreal, from the lack of pain to the apparent marriage between a griffon and pony. If my conversation with Gilda last night was any indication, the idea of such a union was one of the deepest taboos for both species.

As I contemplated the strangeness of the situation I began to struggle to pull myself to a sitting position. Unfortunately it seemed that I was still weak from last night and so I wasn’t able to make much progress until Golden Poppy looped her hooves under my armpits and gently pulled me up.

“Is that better?” The orange unicorn asked, “Now if you have any questions for us then don’t even hesitate.”

“How is it that I don’t feel anything? Shouldn’t I be lightheaded from blood loss or something?” I asked hesitantly, cautious as to not say anything that would be obvious in their eyes.

“My horns not glowing for the pretty light show, Honey.” Golden Poppy softly giggled, “I’m casting an aesthetic spell for the pain. It makes the treatment a little bit easier on you.”

“As for the blood loss,” the griffon spoke up, “I utilised a healing stone to speed up your metabolism so that you could replace the blood that you lost. It also had the side effect of causing your wounds to heal at a faster rate, so they aren’t so deep now. Granted, had you lost much more than the outcome would have been nowhere near as happy as it is. You’re quite the lucky stallion.”

Staring down at my forehooves, it took my brain a moment to fully process the doctor’s information. Honestly, near the end of previous night I had thought that I would be dead come morning, though I was glad that I was proven wrong.

Shifting myself slightly, I became aware of an object that moved against my chest with a slight jingle. Looking down I noted with a smirk of amusement that it was the coin bag I had acquired the other day. I supposed that I had forgotten to take it off when I went to bed and that in the commotion no one had paid it any mind. Picking it up and examining it closely, I realised for the first time that it was made of a brown sturdy cloth and not leather like I had unconsciously assumed. The moment when I had stolen it from that noble seemed like it didn’t really happen, an act performed by a man who wasn’t truly me.

I noticed out of the corner of my eye the two medics give each other a conspiratory look, evidently believing that I wasn’t looking.

Subtly the good doctor gave a slight incline of his head. “Well I’ll go let Gilda know that you’re alright and discuss our payment.” Without waiting for a response, he quickly exited the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Without any further warning Poppy seized my shoulders with her hooves whilst balancing on her back legs.

“Now honey, Gilda,” when she said her name she turned to shoot the door a dirty glare, “has already paid us a substantial amount of meat to not ask any questions, but just answer me this: was she the one who did this to you?”

“Wh-what?” I stammered out in shock, outraged at the very suggestion, “Gilda saved me. Without her I would be dead.”

For several seconds, the orange mare stared at me, searching for any sign of something suspicious. Eventually she gave a small nod of her head. “Okay, I believe you. Now let’s not speak about it anymore.”

Returning her nod in affirmation, we lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, although I caught her eyes drifting down towards roughly where my hips were shrouded by the blanket. Though I was annoyed at Poppy for just assuming that Gilda had been the one to hurt me—even though it was technically true—I was willing to let it slide. Really, I respected the couple that they would be willing to forgo payment to ensure the wellbeing of their patient.

“Honey, I hate to be the one to tell you this,” she suddenly spoke, a look of intense sadness filling her features, “but I think that you might take it better from another pony rather than my husband. He’s a dear and I love him, but he doesn’t understand some things about us ponies.”

Poppy’s referral to me as a pony caused me to slightly tense my forehooves, but I managed to relax them again once I brought my irrational anger back under control. I couldn’t really blame her, she didn’t know any better. I had a vague idea where she was going, though I couldn’t risk interrupting the conversation without making things look even more suspicious than it already was.

“It’s about your cutie mark… ” Quickly she seemed to lose her resolve as her speech trailed off. At my marks mention I felt my chest tighten and I had to enact all of my self control to prevent myself from demanding her to continue immediately.

Taking deep steadying breaths she continued, “I’m afraid... I’m afraid that the cuts were too deep, you cutie mark will never grow back.”

As she finished the triumph and relief I experienced was instantaneous as it felt like my spirit could soar to the heavens. I could begin to feel the edges of my mouth turning up to form a triumphant smile.

I had done it! I had beaten Celestia at her own sick and twisted game and banished the chains that sought to bind me in servitude into oblivion.

“Honey, are you okay?” questioned a hesitant voice that startled me back to reality. Silently cursing myself for getting carried away by my emotions, I gave a small nod. Luckily, it seemed that Poppy’s distress was making her blind to my poor acting.

“Not even a little bit?” I asked in a soft voice, doing my best to hide my true feelings about the situation.

I was suddenly pulled into a warm embrace as a hoof gently stroked my back.  As Golden Poppy had me rest my head on her shoulder, I let loose the grin that I had been suppressing, it stretching so wide it felt like my face would split in two.

“No, I—I’m sorry but it will only be scar tissue,” she replied with a slight sniffle.

“Oh, okay,” I spoke in an almost whisper.

We sat like that for a while, with Golden Poppy gently rocking me back and forth and whispering comforting reassurances, even though it sounded like she was struggling to hold off her own tears. While I was grateful for the intent of the gesture, as minutes passed I was beginning to feel bad for the sheer amount of emotional distress that this was causing Poppy. Unfortunately, there was no real way for me to interrupt it first without it looking suspicious. 

Thankfully, our impromptu hugging session was eventually interrupted by a series of swift knocks on the door, followed by it opening inwards a few inches to permit a head to peek through, whilst I struggled to re-establish my usual neutral expression.

“Is everything alright?” asked Frederick as he peeked into the room, not being very subtle with the loaded nature of his question.

Glancing back at me with a sniffle, Poppy gave a small nod. “Yeah Freddy, everything’s fine.”

“Well, that’s good then,” began the doctor, “Now th—.”

“Let me through,” interrupted the unmistakable voice of an angry Gilda from behind the door, “I have a bone to pick with your patient.”

Without warning the door was forced inwards, leading it to bang rather violently against the wall and pushing the doctor up against its’ frame.

As Gilda made her away across the room, I saw a venomous glare etched across her face. This was by far the angriest I had ever seen her, which when taking into account the number of times she had been angry in the short time I had known her, made it a rather terrifying prospect. As soon as she reached me she drew back her claw and delivered an angry punch to my arm, causing Poppy to shriek in surprise.

As pain exploded from my arm, I saw stars gather at the edge of my eyesight whilst it felt like the bone had snapped under the force imparted onto it.

“If you ever do something like that again then I swear by the ancestors that I’ll kill you myself. Are we clear?”

Staring at the talon pointed at me accusingly I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded.

“Are we clear?” The griffoness repeated her claw drawing back and clenching into a first threateningly, “answer me.”

“That’s enough, Gilda,” Golden Poppy interjected, spreading her forearms out protectively. “The poor dear has had enough without you coming and only making things worse.”

Laying a hoof on her shoulder, I gently, but firmly, returned one of her forearms to the ground.

“We’re clear,” I groaned, resisting the urge to rub my newly forming bruise. Remarkably, the painful throbbing seemed to fade almost immediately. Whilst I was pleasantly confused for a moment, I eventually attributed it to Poppy’s spell.

During our short exchange, Frederick had made his way over to us, and stood at the foot of the bed, the cutlery precariously perched on the plate he was carrying rattling all the while.

“Now, Gilda, that’s enough,” he said angrily, locking eyes with the griffoness, “my wife and I have only just managed to bring him back from the brink. I refuse to have you mess it all up just because you can’t control your temper.”

For a few tense seconds it looked like Gilda was going to take things further as she stared back, her wings half-spread in a animalistic display of defiance. Without any warning, her posture relaxed, and her wings returned to their position at her sides.

“Sorry Doc, I might have got a bit carried away,” she said with a huff, sounding decidedly unapologetic.

During their exchange, Poppy had taken to examine the area where the punch had landed, running over it with gentle hooves and an appraising eye.

“I’m sorry honey,” she spoke in a kindly tone, “but that’s another bruise you’ll have to add to the collection. Look on the bright side, at least it’s nowhere near as bad as that one on your jaw.”

Remembering my fight with Shining Armor, I slowly raised my hoof up to my jaw, feeling a swollen area about the size a marble. Slightly curious about the extent of Poppy’s spell I jabbed the tip of my hoof into the bruised flesh, producing a muted tingling sensation and the knowledge that it was as hard as a rock.

Before I could experiment any further, Poppy gently grasped my hoof with her own and placed it down on the bed sheets. “Now careful, my spell may mask the pain and Freddy’s speed up your healing rate, but it doesn’t mean that it isn’t there. Just be gentle with yourself for a while. We don’t want to make anything worse, now do we?.”

As things simmered down, Frederick moved himself over to the other side of the bed so that he was now standing next to his wife.

“Now that we are all calm, may I please finish things up here?” He questioned in the same detached monotone.

Looking around we all gave a guilty nod. Even Poppy, rather amusingly.

Stepping forward, he placed a plate of food in front of me. Lying on the plate looked to be something that at least vaguely resembled meat, though the colour and apparent consistency just looked off.

Directing my gaze at Frederick, I stared at him questioningly for several moments. It seemed that he caught onto my scepticism if his raised eyebrow was any indication.

“Just eat it,” he commanded.

“No thanks,” I replied, “I’m not really hungry.”

“You’re not now, but the treatment I gave would normally have left you extraordinarily hungry. You only don’t feel it because Golden Poppy’s spell suppresses the sensation. Trust me, things will be a lot more comfortable if you do it this way.”

Picking up the provided fork I reluctantly stabbed it into one of the unappetising chunks and brought it to my mouth. The taste could only be described as odd. Whilst in the loosest of definitions it tasted like meat, the consistency was too soft to be even close. After forcing down the mouthful that I had, I was left with an unpleasant aftertaste that did little to encourage me to take another bite.

Apparently my thoughts were clearly shown on my face, as Frederick immediately gave voice to my objection. “I know that it’s rather unappetising, but feat is the only real thing that Gilda has that is suitable for a pony. You’ll just have to grin and bear it.”

“You’re tougher than me,” Poppy piped up, a shudder running through her body, “I can’t stand the stuff. It tastes too much like meat for me to be even remotely comfortable.”

Through a great amount of struggle I managed to choke down another piece of the feat, trying my hardest not to bite down on it to avoid the bulk of its taste and texture.

Surveying me for a moment, Frederick gave a nod of approval before launching into his speech. “Now, the metabolic acceleration I gave you has left you malnourished and weak, so for the foreseeable future, I suggest that you maintain a healthy diet and a reasonably active lifestyle to help build back up the muscle mass you lost. But before all that, you are not to move a single inch from that bed for the next week. You still don’t have the optimum amount of blood, and those wounds of yours are still too delicate to risk.”

Pausing for a moment, he whipped off his glasses and wiped them several times, using the coat of his partner.

“Stop that,” The orange mare giggled, playfully swatting away his arm.

For a second, he seemed to gaze at her with the same slight frown, but it soon broke into a wide grin, the first change in his expression I had witnessed from the stoic griffon.

“Well it’s not my fault,” he replied with a joking tone, “I told you to not make your coat so soft if you wanted me to stop.”

Not waiting for her reply, he darted in and gave her a peck on the cheek, an affection the shorter mare returned by gently nuzzling into his side.

“Ahem,” Gilda coughed into her claw, rolling her eyes at the display.

The two broke apart, Frederick blushing furiously whilst Poppy merely grinned. Despite this though they still remained closely pressed into each other, a content smile gracing both of their faces.

“Anyway,” he resumed, obviously trying to mask his own embarrassment for his public display of affection. “I’m afraid that once we leave, your injuries will cause you a reasonable amount of pain. However, there is something that might be able to help you, if you are willing. I’ll let my wife explain as it’s really her forte.”

“Thanks Freddy,” the orange mare spoke, rewarding him with another nuzzle before turning to address me. “I have something that could replicate the effects of my spell, though it is a bit unprecedented.”

Breaking apart from her spouse, Golden Poppy went over and began rummaging through the saddle bags that I had just then noticed were leaning up against the wall. Trotting back toward the bed, she deposited a rather nondescript pouch onto my lap.

Picking it up, I loosened the cord with some difficulty and peered inside curiously.

“Vials?” I disappointedly asked. By the way they were building it up I was expecting something far more impressive. Tipping the contents out onto my lap revealed that they contained some sort of liquid that looked to be muddy reddish-brown in colour.

“Yeah, it’s a remedy I created that contains a diluted extract I get from poppies,” she answered enthusiastically, “my cutie mark isn’t just for show.”

As if needing to prove the fact to me, she turned to her side slightly and displayed her mark, a golden flower—which I could only assume was a poppy—with each individual petal being in the shape of a heart.

Catching sight of the accursed thing, I gave a slight start and unconsciously flinched backwards.

My reaction seemed to provoke a further response in Poppy, as a look of sadness once again clouded her features. “Oh, I’m sorry honey, I didn’t think.”

Hurriedly, I searched my mind for anything that I could do to change the topic. Bringing back the cutie mark discussion would not be a smart idea when every moment I had to talk about it made it even more likely for her to discover that something wasn’t right. Suddenly her name and the vials that I had received seemed to click together in my mind and a realisation dawned.

“Umm... Poppy,” I began awkwardly, “this extract of yours, it isn’t Opium by any chance?”

It seemed that my distraction did the trick as a look of confusion overtook her features.

“How did you know that?” The disbelief plain in her voice, “I’ve never heard of anypony who works with poppies like I do.”

I mentally cursed myself for my panicked solution. I had traded one suspicious circumstance for another, and this time I couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t make the situation infinitely worse.

“I’m not sure, I must have read about it somewhere,” I replied lamely.

If Poppy was suspicious of my answer she didn’t show it, only giving me a small nod.

“Okay, then,” she accepted, “If you feel that the pain is becoming too unmanageable just take about half a teaspoon no more than once every five hours.”

“Now,” interjected Frederick, “I think it is time for my wife and I to be off. It has been a tiring night for us all and we could all do with some rest.”

As if on cue the orange unicorn at his side gave an enormous yawn, prompting me to notice for the first time the dark bags underneath both their eyes.

“I think you might be right Freddy. I just need to deactivate the numbing spell and we can get home and enjoy ourselves,” Poppy said, giving a suggestive wink.

“Now hold on,” I started, feeling alarmed enough to ignore the enormous blush that overtook Frederick's features, “how long until I start feeling pain again?”

“Don’t worry honey,” Poppy spoke soothingly, “it should take over half an hour until you can even hope to feel something, more than enough time to drift off and have a nice long rest.”

“I trust that you two a bit to discuss,” interjected Frederick, nonchalantly gesturing to myself and Gilda.

The couple then began to gather up the various medical supplies lay around the room. Poppy also collected the numerous vials of Opium mixture that lay on my lap, returning most to the pouch from which they originated. However, she did manage to place one on the nightstand that stood alongside the bed, her hoof movements looking clumsy and inexperienced.

Once everything was ready and both the griffon and mare had their bags across their backs Frederick made to speak again. “Well, good day then. I hope that you feel better soon. Don’t be afraid to contact me if anything worries you.”

“Also, honey,” Poppy added, “if you need to talk about anything, all you need to do is ask. I’ll call around in the next day or two to change your bandages but if you can’t hold out ‘till then just get Gilda to ask for me and I’ll be here in a flash.”

“Yes, thank you,” I replied with a small nod of acknowledgement, “I’ll make sure to keep both of your offers in mind should I need them.”

As the couple turned to leave Gilda made to follow them, though she was halted by an upraised claw.

“Don’t worry Gilda we can see ourselves out,” the doctor spoke dryly, “I hardly think we will get lost on the way out.”

“Frederick!” Poppy scolded, “that wasn’t a very nice thing to say.”

“I didn’t mean it like that dear,” replied Frederick, “it was a simple statement of fact.”

Even though Frederick had inadvertently insulted Gilda, the couple seemed to make no move to stop and apologise and were quickly lost from view. Despite this, the room was still filled with their good natured bickering, right up until the moment when it was muffled by the shutting of the front door.

For several moments, Gilda and I remained in silence, both awkwardly catching glimpses of the other when we thought the other wasn’t looking.

In the quiet, I began to slowly deconstruct everything that had happened to me in the past two days. It scared me how close I had came to falling prey to external machinations in the form of that mark. However, it was abundantly clear that I owed all my thanks for avoiding it to a single person. I knew then what I needed to do, a Ford always pays his debts and I was no exception.

“Gilda,” I began, “For the second time, I owe you everything. I have to repay you for it.”

“Well, that purse looks a little light, but I’ll accept that to start. The doctor wasn’t cheap.” By the way she spoke it seemed that she was trying to tell a joke to break the tension, though her deadpan delivery meant I couldn’t be completely sure

“No, money is not enough for what you have done for me,” I forged ahead, staring straight into the griffoness’ eyes, “Celestia sought to rob me of everything that I am, and in some areas I fear that she succeeded. I have no home to return to, no job to work for and until now, nothing to strive towards each day. But right now, I feel something that I haven't felt since I was brought into this nightmare. Do you want to know what it is?"

"Sure," she replied, her eyebrow raised in interest.

"Victory," I said with a grin, "Victory, and more importantly, purpose. Seeing all this," I began, pointing out the window, “has given me purpose. You, Gilda, have given me purpose and even if I spent a lifetime at your beck and call, I wouldn't have even begun to repay that debt. So in that case, I shall have to settle for the next best thing."

"And what would that be?"

"I'm going to set the griffons free." 

Silence reigned throughout the room as Gilda stared at me wide eyed in utter shock for a moment, before her expression hardened. “That’s a serious claim you’re making,” She spoke scornfully, “Do you really think that griffons are suddenly going to start following some random pony that walks up to them?”

“But you forget Gilda,” I said, trying to sound more sure than I was, “I’m not a pony. Humanity has quite the record of righting injustices, through whatever means necessary.”

For a second, Gilda looked at me searchingly. “And just who was responsible for these injustices?”

“What do you mean by that?” I questioned indignantly.

“Exactly like I said,” Gilda snapped back, “what species?”

“Umm...” At Gilda’s inquiry my first instinct was to lie, all I would need to do was recount the plot of the first vaguely relevant movie that came into my head. However, I could not bring myself to do it, not after the leap of faith she had taken in believing me. She deserved to know the whole truth.

“Other humans,” I admitted, “We have a long record for righting injustices, but we also have one for causing them.”

“And what is it you’re even going to do that’s even gonna achieve anything?” she asked sceptically.

“Err... well I’m not too sure,” I admitted, “I suppose I can start off by writing some of the ideas down so that we can distribute them. Pamphlets, you know.”

My—admittedly weak—plan only seemed to produce a snort of derision from Gilda, “If that’s all you plan to do, then you might as well do it,” she dismissed with a shrug, “It’s not like you’ll be going anywhere for a while.”

Once again, we lapsed into silence until a rather unusual expression overtook the griffonesses face as every muscle in her body seemed to suddenly tensed without warning.

“Something the matter?” I questioned, concern filling my voice.                  

For a moment, it looked like I wasn’t going to receive a response, but after a lengthy pause, the griffoness began to speak, “It just hit me how weird this whole situation is. I have a pony who claims he isn’t a pony sleeping in my bed. Even if you aren’t what you say you are—.”

“I am,” I interrupted with an angry scowl.

“Even if you aren’t what you say you are,” Gilda repeated breathlessly, “you are still a pony who basically cut off his own cutie mark and somehow managed to get me to help him do it.”

“It is rather strange,” I admitted, “believe me if—.”

“And on top of all that,” the griffoness continued, “he is now going on about doing something that is almost certainly completely impossible, that every griffon who’s ever tried was left broken and beaten down.”

As soon as she had finished, Gilda sucked in a deep breath, her muscles relaxing and her shoulders drooping slightly.

“Feeling better?” I gently questioned.

Receiving a nod in return, Gilda let out a mighty yawn. It proved to be contagious, as I soon let out my own that was so wide I struggled to properly cover my mouth.

“I think that I might go and get some shut eye,” Gilda said tiredly.

“Where are you planning to sleep?” I asked in a voice that shared the same weariness.

“Where do you think? she began, jerking her thumb in the vague direction of the living room, “The couch.”

“Gilda, I can’t let you do that in your own home. I’ll take the couch.”

Not waiting to give her the chance to argue, I began to struggle to throw the covers off my legs.

“Don’t be stupid,” Gilda snapped, roughly grabbing hold of my back legs and forcing them to remain still, “You need the bed more than I do. Don’t go and screw everything up by trying to be the gentlecolt for something that doesn’t even matter.”

“But I can’t go and take so much from you and then take even more,” I argued.

“You said you owe me,” she began threateningly, squeezing my legs for emphasis, “and I wasn’t joking about killing you earlier.”

“Okay, okay,” I conceded, gesturing with my two forehooves for her to calm down, “You win. Take the couch.”

“Good. Now, have a good sleep,” she said with a curt nod.

As aggressively as she entered the room, she left, shutting the door behind her rather forcefully.

Slowly, I managed to shift myself so that my head was once again resting on the pillow. Each wiggle of my hips causing a slight tingle of pain that I knew would be nothing compared to what I would experience once I woke up.

Letting out a tired sigh, I quickly drifted off into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

Side Chapter 1: Celestia

I awoke before the sun had risen, as I did every morning, and stared out the window from my bed with bleary eyes. Sometimes, I would give anything for the pleasure of being awoken again by the newly risen sun. Alas, those moments from my childhood had long since passed.

Gently extracting myself from the twisted and rumpled silk covers of my bed I briefly let out a tired yawn. There had been many late nights over the past week, and I had not been sleeping well either. Recently, it seemed that every time that I was about to drift off to sleep, my mind would linger on some of the more morally questionable actions that I had recently committed.

Moving from my bed to a more spacious section of my quarters, I commenced my morning routine. Briefly I performed a number of different contortions that I had learnt over my long life. These ranged from a simple stretching of my wings that any pegasus would know, to a more complicated manoeuvre: where I jerked my head so violently that it produced a satisfying cracking sensation and a corresponding relieved sigh. Over time, this simple series of motions had come to be a cornerstone of my mornings; as important to me as the rising of the Sun itself.

Letting out a relieved sigh, I quickly trotted over to the balcony doors, unlatching and pushing them open with a quick burst of telekinesis.

Casting out my magical sense, I could feel that the sun was at the point in its path where it was ready to be arisen.

Below me lay the slumbering city of Canterlot, in all its magnificence: from the tops of its golden spires, to the sheen of the innumerable marble buildings that it contained. Even after all these years since its founding, I still felt pride at what we had accomplished. Having gone from a few broken down ponies with nothing to their names, to the centre of the civilised world.

Already, I could spot a few distant lights flickering in windows and the rise of wood fire smoke from chimneys. Perhaps, I wondered to myself, one of those lights heralded Joshua’s return to the waking world; a world filled with promises of new friends and unbound happiness. I hoped with all my heart that it was true. After all that he had gone through, and all the unintentional suffering I had caused him, he deserved it.

My pondering was interrupted, when my internal schedule began to nag me that it was growing close for the sun to rise.

Beginning to channel my vast reserve of magic, I directed it towards the still hidden sun. Whilst power coursed through my entire being, I felt the touch of my sister’s magic directed towards her setting moon. After all of those years of solidarity, it felt good to feel her magic again. If not for her return, I could not have stood to suffer the emotional and magical burden of being responsible for both the sun and moon for much longer.

Just as the sun’s glittering sphere pierced the horizon, the magical storm raging within me reached its peak—as it did every morning. A familiar crackling of discharging energy rang in my ears as the sensation departed, leaving me to watch the Sun as it made its slow ascent into the sky.

Whilst I still stood in the cool air I summoned up my magic once more, this time directing the wind towards myself. With the application of a quick spell I soon felt a tickling sensation over my entire body. As it begun to slowly fade away it left me with a clean and fragrant coat and my previously dishevelled hair in its usual pristine state.

Stepping back inside and shutting the glass doors behind me, I let myself relish in the feeling of the plush carpet under my hooves, shutting my eyes to better experience the feeling of soft wool on my bare hooves. Though it was such a simple sensation, it was none the less a joyful one. After all, my hooves spent so much of their time encased in gold that any sensation they felt was invigorating to say the least.

After I had spent enough time indulging myself, I reluctantly stepped into the four golden horseshoes that were ubiquitous with my public image. The rich sensation underhoof now having been reduced to nothing. Next came my tiara and gorget, both being of the purest gold with a simple gem inset into each. My regalia always seemed to weigh me down, even though enchantments were inlaid to greatly reduce their weight. However, rather than being a burden most days I was grateful for that quality as it reminded me of just how much responsibility my position held.

Taking several deep steadying breaths, I readied myself for the challenges that would present themselves to me today.

Stepping out of my bedroom and into the living area of my spacious personal suite, I was greeted with an unexpected surprise.

“Lulu,” I spoke happily, “I didn’t expect to see you this fine morning.”

Finding my sister sitting at the table which was usually reserved for entertaining guests at meal times, I made my way over to the chair across from her. Already, it appeared that the servants had delivered the meal as a simple bowl filled with a fine selection of fruit lay in its exact centre. Luna herself seemed to have completely ignored this wonderful display, a number of pages spread out over the table instead encapsulating her attention. When she looked like that, her resembled to my faithful student was uncanny, bringing a small giggle to my lips.

“Yes, sister! We th—,” she began, her distracted state causing her to slip into the royal “we” before catching herself. Taking a breath, she continued. “I mean, I thought that I would call in to see you before the council’s vote.”

The slight downward curve of her lips on her otherwise neutral expression was enough to alert me that something was wrong. The fact that the papers her eyes remained glued to happened to be our proposal was another.

“Lulu, is everything okay?” I questioned, my brow etched with worry.

“It is nothing Tia,” she quickly responded, finally shifting her gaze to me. For a second, a look of uncertainty was etched on her features before she spoke again. “It’s just that it has been so long since I have had to draft laws of such importance as these,” she said, tapping the document in emphasis, “I—I am nervous that I have missed something important.”

“It is okay Luna, we have both drafted it multiple times, I can assure you that there is nothing we have missed. If you are so nervous, why don’t you accompany me to the meeting to see the vote passed for yourself?”

For a second my sister’s eyes lit up, clearly tempted by the offer, though they doused themselves almost immediately. “I cannot sister,” Luna replied with a sad shake of her head. “This vote is too important and the council’s animosity towards me too great. We cannot risk them potentially rejecting these laws purely out of spite directed at me.”

“If you truly want to come, then do so sister,” I said encouragingly, a pang of sadness filling me at Luna’s dispiritedness, “this vote will pass with no problems, just as they always do.”

All I received in reply was a shake of Luna’s head, though a look of resolution overtook her features.”Even so, I am not willing to chance it,” I overheard her mumble to herself.

I knew then that there was no use arguing with her. “Okay sister, I understand. Now, how about you give me those documents, so we can enjoy each other’s company?”

Reluctantly, she levitated over the stack of typed papers that we had spent the majority of the few previous days working on over to me. Giving her a reassuring smile, I quickly engulfed her magic with my own and placed them down on a table on the other side of the room.

“Don’t give me that smile,” Luna groused, crossing her forehooves and pouting in such an adorable manner that any foal would be proud to claim it as their own.

“What smile?” I confusedly asked.

“The exact same one that mother used to give us when she reassured us about the monsters we claim lurked in our bedrooms. I am a grown mare, Tia.”

“I am sorry, Lulu,” I apologised, flashing her a sheepish grin, “I did not mean to disrespect you, I was not even aware I was doing it.”

Immediately, Luna’s own gaze softened. “I know you didn’t Tia. It just startles me sometimes how much you can look like her.”

After that, we lapsed into silence for a while. In the meantime, I busied myself by critically eyeing every piece of fruit in the bowl before me. Eventually I decided on a particularly delectable apple, its red skin shining like a ruby in the sun. Extracting it carefully from amongst its compatriots with telekinesis, I eagerly brought it to my lips. Taking a more than princess sized bite—something that I would never do in another’s company besides that of my sister—produced a crisp crunch and a wonderful taste that none the less made me feel slightly queasy. My stomach could never handle much more than a piece of fruit after I had just awoken anyway, and even that was pushing it.

Without even realising it my gaze had somehow drifted out the window. As I watched the sun rise, my mind began to drift, once again, towards a pony who I had caused great pain that in turn pained my trouble soul.

“You are thinking of him, are you not?” Luna asked softly, breaking me out of my pondering with a start.

“...Yes,” I hesitantly admitted.

Silence once again filled the room, as a singular question continued to circle around in my head. It had been haunting me for weeks now, and every day, I grew a little bit more desperate to ask it. However, today was the first time in a while that I was in my sister’s company, in total privacy, with no greater pressing matters. I could no longer contain it.

“Did I do the right thing sister, transforming Joshua against his will?” I blurted out.

“I will not lie to you sister,” Luna began with a heavy sigh, “from his viewpoint, he thinks you did not. From what you told me, the reaction that he had to you when you went to see him makes it undoubtable,” I winced, as Luna’s blunt words sent a burning dagger straight through me. “But, in my own opinion, you did the right thing. Perhaps not the popular thing, but you of all ponies would know that they are not always the same.”

Though my sister’s words helped to relieve my burden slightly, it did not remove it. I feared that it would be another regret I would carry with me for the rest of my days.

“Lulu, are his dreams happy?” I questioned, knowing full well what her answer would be.

“You know I cannot tell you that sister,” replied Luna, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face, “dreams are one of the most intimate moments a pony can ever have, what I witness is between them and me.”

Even though I did not wish them to, I could feel my shoulders sag beneath my guilt. Luna was the only pony that I would ever reveal my true emotions to, and even in the darkest of times I still appreciate the joy I felt to be able to share them.

Seeming to take pity on me, Luna stretched across the table and laid a gentle hoof on my shoulder. “I promise you sister,” Luna reassured, looking up at me with kind eyes. “I am doing my best to safeguard his dreams against nightmares. As long as I remain vigilant he should be capable of warding them off most, if not every, night.”

“Thank you Luna,” I said, my voice cracking slightly just before my emotional control reasserted itself, “I am glad you are here.”

However, our tender moment was interrupted when the bell that I had installed for my apartments rang suddenly, causing my sister to jump slightly as she always did.

“Heavens, Celestia!” my sister exclaimed, trying her hardest to mask the slight blush on her cheeks, “why did you have that awful thing installed?”

I let out a giggle at my sister‘s reaction, before re-establishing my more public demeanour. “I felt like a change, dear sister. One can only hear a knock at their apartments so many times before it grows boring.”

Though this reason was partially true, what I would never admit to my sister was that there was an ulterior motive for the bell. After all, it was beginning to grow embarrassing to have guards burst into my rooms fearing for my safety, only to catch me in a rather compromising position whilst I enjoyed an afternoon nap.

“You may enter,” I called towards the door after receiving an affirmative in the form of a nod from Lulu.

After the door had been engulfed with two identical magical fields, they opened themselves to reveal the form of a pegasus member of my royal guard. I could already tell who it was, though the enchantments hid the physical aspects of the guard it did not alter each ponies unique signature left on the magic field lines.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Luna shoot me a look I immediately recognised as her, ‘this is your business, I won’t interfere’ face.

“Lieutenant Shieldwing,” I greeted him with a warm smile, “how is your search progressing?”

As soon as talk about Joshua’s rather explosive confrontation with Shining Armor and Princess Cadence had surfaced, Shieldwing had been a stallion possessed. He had come before me and practically begged for me to send out a detachment of guards to search for him. However, I was unable to fulfill that request, as I could not justify the amount of stallion-hours it would take find somepony who had no legal reason to be found. After all, he had only gotten into a particularly venomous argument; something that was by no means illegal. Instead, I had formulated the plan that I would allow him some time off to search for Joshua, outside of the guards authority. In exchange, Shieldwing would report his latest findings to me each morning.

The slight frown that accompanied the deep bow he gave did little to assure me, but I forced myself to think positively. Motioning for him to stand, he immediately launched into his daily report, the tired tone of his voice so far from the stallion that once smiled so readily.

“Not well I’m afraid, Your Highness. I searched through some of the lowered class districts yesterday but I had little luck. I went combing through some of the local bars asking any patrons if they had seen him, but I didn’t really turn up any solid leads. I thought I had got something from one bartender after I flashed a few coins, but the trail went cold before I could follow it up. If he was ever there, it’s like he disappeared off the face of Equestria immediately afterwards.”

“And what did this bartender say he witnessed?” I asked curiously, unconsciously shifting forward in my seat.

“He said that a stallion that matched Josh’s colours and cutie mark walked in one afternoon a couple of days ago and paid far too much for two drinks.”

“But why did he purchase two drinks when he could do it one at a time?” questioned Luna, her own curiosity seeming to win out over her non-involvement.

Moving so that he could face the both of us simultaneously, Shieldwing continued. “Apparently he gave the other one to a griffoness who was having an argument with the owner, talked with her for a while and then left with her.”

Though this report worried me, there was simply not enough evidence to support it. Another thing that made me skeptical, was the fact that Joshua did not have any money when he had departed the castle. It would be more likely that the glint of gold produced the bartender’s story, rather than any true events. Besides, no matter what Joshua was up to, he had made his wishes to me quite clear; and so far, I had restrained myself from going after him.

“Shieldwing,” I spoke cautiously, “I understand that you are his friend, but it has been nearly a week. You must realise that Joshua wants to be left alone right now. If he wished to be found, I do not doubt that he would be.” Making my way over to where he stood, I gave him a motherly nuzzle. “I know that you are on vacation right now and have no duty to listen to me, but perhaps you should leave it be for now. Excuse me for saying so, but you look tired. A few days of rest would do you well.”

It pained me to suggest abandoning his search, the guilt over not knowing what happened to him felt so heavy that sometimes I thought that I would be dragged to the ground. However, the well-being of my subjects came before my own; my ignorance would simply need to be another burden for me to bear.

It seemed that my informal interaction with Shieldwing made him forget protocol for a moment, as he dropped the standard military stance and pawed awkwardly at the ground.

“I’m sorry Princess, but I can’t.”

“Lieutenant,” I said in a worried tone, “why do you insist on torturing yourself so?”

“...Princess,” Shieldwing hesitated, his eyes fixed firmly onto the floor.

“It is okay Shieldwing,” I reassured him, “you may tell me. I promise that I won’t be mad at either you or Joshua.”

“He hates you,” my loyal guard finally admitted, raising his eyes to meet my own. “I have never seen somepony so filled with hate my whole life. Not to mention that he was having a rather tough time with accepting that he has a special talent.” For several moments, he paused again, before speaking in a voice just over just a whisper, “I’m worried what he might do and what might happen to him, if he’s left alone out there.”

“Okay, Shieldwing,” I said, my stoic demeanour still in place despite my emotional turmoil, “I understand. You are dismissed, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After snapping a quick salute, he shot me his signature grin, though the dark bags under his eyes revealed just how strained he truly was. “Do not worry, princess. I’ll find him and make sure he’s safe in no time.”

He turned and left, his departure just as swift as his entrance. Just before the doors had fully shut behind him, a helmeted head quickly darted in and opened them wider.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, Your Majesties,” gulped the rather nervous looking unicorn guard. “But the Council wanted me to remind you that the meeting will be starting in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, thank you Private Pauldron.” I acknowledged with a nod, rewarding him with a smile in an attempt to ease his nerves.

Snapping a clumsy salute, the private quickly backed himself out from the room. As he shut the doors behind him, he applied more magical force than was entirely necessary, making me cringe at the loud noise it produced.

“The nerve of them!” Luna fumed, her eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring dangerously. “Implying that you would forget a meeting as important as that. Why do you insist on this ridiculous Council of Nobles, Tia?” questioned Luna, stabbing a hoof at me accusingly. “Surely, they have served no purpose since my return.”

“It’s like I tell you every time, Luna,” I replied with a slight sigh of annoyance. “I can’t just go and play around with the government however I feel like it. I need to follow the correct steps.”

“But why?” Luna pushed, banging her hoof down on the table for emphasis. “Why is it so important for you to involve those blowhards? They barely even pay attention to what they are approving.”

For some reason, I hesitated over telling my sister my motivation. It had happened so long ago but the wounds still felt fresh.

“Just tell me, Tia,” Luna continued, “I can see you biting your lip. You can hide your true feelings from most ponies, but you can’t from me.”

“Because,” I reluctantly began, suddenly finding great interest in the bottom of one of my horseshoes, “if I do whatever it is that takes my fancy, then I am no better than the griffon emperor.”

Unconsciously, I felt a shiver run down my spine at having to mention that monster out loud. I still suffered nightmares of him standing over our mother with his bloodstained beak, some unrecognisable chunk of gore clasped in his claw. But always this was secondary to the body that he stood over, my mothers, her usually snow white coat, so very similar to my own, stained red. Her chest, which she once hugged us to so tightly, having been completely ripped open and her heart torn out, used in one of his perverse rituals.

He thought that it would make him a god, but my sister and I ensured that no one, griffon or pony, would remembered his name. After all, how could someone be a god if nopony remembered or worshiped them?

Sensing my distress, Luna abandoned her seat and, with the aid of her wings, enveloped me into a comforting hug. She held me close to her for a good while, before drawing me out to arm’s length. “It is okay sister,” she soothed, “that tyrant is long dead and forgotten. There is nothing more that he could do to hurt us.”

Glancing up at the clock, I gave a brief start.

“Luna, I’m sorry, but I need to get going. The council meeting starts in a few minutes.”

“It is okay, sister,” Luna replied with a smile, “we can continue this conversation at a later, less pressing, time. Besides, it is time for me to rest.”

Gently I pulled her back into the hug, her wings refolding at her sides with a flutter so that it was a more equal experience.

“Thank you for understanding sister, we should do this more often.”

“We should,” came my Luna’s quiet reply in my ear.

Breaking apart, we both made our way out of the doorway and walked alongside each other for a short distance, until our paths diverged.

I followed the usual passageway to the council hall almost unconsciously, the fact that I had made so many journeys to it over my life making it hardly surprising.

Letting my hooves guide me, I left my jumbled thoughts free to roam over the troubling events that had befallen Equestria and myself in more recent times.

Eventually, I found myself before the great doors of the chamber, with a row of five well-dressed ponies standing respectfully to each side. Upon catching sight of me, every one of them dipped into a low bow, which they remained in until I motioned for them to stand.

Without any further delay, I opened the heavy doors and allowed the council’s members to file in, as was dictated by protocol. I personally followed a few paces behind and moved to stand in the direct centre of a large stylised sun imprinted on the floor, which itself sat in the direct centre of the room. I had made moves to include the crescent moon of my sister, but this was met with harsh backlash by the nobility, many of whom’s ancestors had earned their noble titles fighting against Nightmare Moon, forcing me to waylay my plans for the future. The nobility were nothing if not strict adherers to tradition, even if it would have made their ancestors balk.

Around me lay nine high arched windows, each allowing for the sunlight to spill in and warm the otherwise cold stone room. In the spaces between each of the windows—as well as the door—hung ten individual banners, each one being emblazoned with a sitting house’s crest and their traditional colours.

A raised stone bench lay in a semicircle directly facing the doorway, strategically designed so that the ponies seated behind it were at direct eye level to myself.

“We swear to ensure that our princess’s sun will set at dusk and rise anew at dawn,” droned the now seated council members, their enthusiasm dulled over years of repetition.

Without wasting any further time, the Council Speaker, Prince Blueblood, launched directly into the proceedings. "This council is seated before our princess to deliver its verdict in regards to latest proposed laws submitted under the joint title of The Equestrian Emergency Food Shortage Relief Act. This act involves the cutting of the tax rate for the lower classes to three percent, an introduction of a tax on the aristocratic class of twenty percent for all earnings, as well as permission to suspend winter periods during times of famine.”

As my nephew spoke, his words were accompanied by the rapid typing of a pegasus stallion that was seated to the left-hoof side of the bench. I had always made sure that every meeting was recorded and filed away in the Canterlot Public Library for anypony to read.

The arrogant smile that was plastered on Blueblood’s face brought me sorrow, as it always did. I could still remember the first Blueblood, the brave and humble pony that stood by me in the darkest hours. I loved him with all my being, as I have done for all his descendants. But, as time passed and his blood diluted with each subsequent generation, I could see the traits that earned him his nobility slowly erode away. Now, when I looked at Blueblood LVI, I could see nothing of his ancestor in him, no matter how hard I searched, though I still loved him all the same.

“After two days of careful deliberation,” Blueblood continued, “the council has reached its decision.”

For a second he paused for dramatic effect, his smug grin stretching so wide that it was beginning to grow unsettling.

“The amendments are denied, with a vote of eight to two. Our verdict has been made, and such is the will of the Noble Council.”

As he swung his gavel thrice, to mark the conclusion of the meeting; each strike felt like a spike was being driven deeper and deeper into my heart. As I cast my shocked gaze from representative to representative, it seemed that, aside from Blueblood, not a single member of the council was able to meet my eyes.

In the cavernous silence Blueblood, coughed into his hoof. The gesture itself was no doubt aimed at the stenographer, whose typing had fallen silent midway through the meeting, his jaw hanging open in utter shock as he looked at me for guidance.

“We are sorry princess,” spoke up an aging pegasus representative, “but the amendments you proposed would have crippled our economic system and, by extension, the entire world's economy. What good is resolving this crisis when it would create one that is a thousand times worse?”

His words sunk in, their true meaning was obvious to me, greed and nothing more. It disgusted me to witness the foundations of honor and selflessness that the council had been based upon spat on so openly. Glaring at each of the nobles in turn I felt a fury fill me the likes of which I hadn’t felt in centuries. As rage burned away the last semblance of restraint, I prepared myself to teach them all a lesson.

“You dare place your own material wealth over the wellbeing of the common pony?” I began, my voice shockingly low and cold. “You dare to have the gall to use your positions for personal gain?”

Suddenly, as I gazed down at the cowering form of the stenographer, I realised that somehow I had unconsciously spread my wings and was now hovering over the heads of the room’s occupants. Magical energy crackled in the air and I could feel my mane blowing wildly in an ethereal storm. I relished in the feeling of speaking freely after so long choosing my words so carefully. I felt alive.

Despite my exhilaration, I also realised, with growing horror, just how close I was to enacting some form of terrible vengeance on the council. Shutting my pure white eyes I fought with all my might to shackle my anger once more. Gently I felt my hooves touch the ground.

“All of you. Out,” I said again, my low voice strained with the effort of keeping myself in check.

At my command, the assembled ponies defiant spirits seemed to break. In unison, most of the councilponies bolted to the doors with a raucous clatter. The only one who did not was Blueblood, who had yet to even visibly react to my outburst, he instead seemed to move towards the exit at a leisurely stroll. He paused in between his seat and the door, turning to look back at me.

“Auntie,” he began, his casual tone grating on my frayed nerves. “This is ridiculous. Surely, you—.”

“NOW!” I yelled in the Royal Canterlot Voice, “And never call me auntie again!”

Looking at me with utter shock for a moment, he appeared to finally grasp the meaning of my words. Without any further delay, he himself whipped around and galloped for the exit. Just after he passed under the doorways arch I grasp it with my magic, slamming it shut so that it passed mere inches from his rump.

Suddenly, all my anger had left me. I slumped down weakly to the floor. I was in shock, my mind blank and my muscles non-functioning. My shock ran so deep that when Luna eventually arrived after having received news about what had transpired, I had yet to move at all.

Chapter 9

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

―Matthew 5:5

For the next five days, my life resumed some semblance of how it was before my exit from the castle. I would awake early every morning and work late into the night. My time was taken up entirely by two simple tasks. The first was fulfilling my promise to Gilda, where I would work to produce some form of pamphlet that would speak to the griffons and their plight. Whilst my writing talent was mediocre at best, I had unlimited sources to pull from. Robespierre, Lenin, Marx, and Martin Luther King Junior, I had read and retained enough from each that I was able to begin to amalgamate them into something powerful. It was a reasonably simple job really, though I struggled at first, once the words started flowing, adapting human ideals on racial equality into species equality became easy enough. Soon enough, Gilda’s room was covered in pages and pages of notes and drafts, and my right arm was covered in black ink stains that never fully came out, no matter how hard I scrubbed.

My other project was for my own good, and it consumed me a little more each day. At first it had taken form as an idea one night when I was having trouble sleeping, but since then it became an outlet for my frustrations. It was a plan to adapt the dagger that had freed me into something that I could use comfortably without the risk of dropping it. This task involved two things: creating a handle that a pony could comfortably grasp and finding a way to strap the sheath to my body. I don’t know why I insisted on using that blade, perhaps it was out of love for the symbolism if I ever got to use it. Gradually, the weapon began to take shape and consequently what remained of my money dwindled to nothing. However, it was worth every bit, and I do not regret it for a second.

During that time I was little better than an invalid, only able to leave the bed a few times each day to relieve or clean myself. Furthermore, the pain I experienced was just as excruciating as promised. My wounds seemed to throb non-stop, constantly breaking my concentration and pushing my self-control to the limit. The vial that Golden Poppy gave me still sat on the nightstand in the exact same spot as she left it, taunting me to take it and soothe my pain. However I refused to give into the temptation, I knew the dangers of addiction to Opium, and I was not going to shackle myself again just after I had been freed. Besides, I needed my mind sharp and clear.

As the days passed and the pain diminished, my restlessness and desire to ignore the doctor’s orders only grew.

Gilda herself was little help in these times. She was gone for most of the day, taking short hunting trips in an attempt to replenish some of her stock. Though I felt tremendously guilty about making her do all the extra work, she never let me apologise. Whenever I tried to bring it up, she always silenced me before I could really do any talking, saying that I was doing her a favour since she loved it so much. Strangely, though I did not doubt that it would be easier for her to simply camp in the forest overnight, she never brought anything up about doing so and was always back home in time for us to have dinner together.

Golden Poppy had taken to checking in on me around midday every single day, always bringing with her some leftovers or a fresh sandwich for me. Though I had protested initially—food prices were hardly cheap from what I had read in the paper—she always insisted and eventually I stopped bringing it up. Being the kind woman that she was, she was even willing to go and purchase a few of the parts that I needed for my personal project, though I always made sure to never let on what I was creating.

Everything actually seemed to be progressing at a steady and comfortable pace, until the day Gilda burst in with the afternoon edition of the Equestria Daily.

“You might want to read this,” Gilda said, tossing the newspaper onto my lap, causing me to almost stab myself with the dagger clasped in my right foreleg.

Suppressing an annoyed sigh, I carefully returned the blade to its sheath strapped to my left foreleg, paying close attention to any difficulty in doing so in the process.

Though the weapon was relatively simple, it nevertheless meant a great deal to me. The dagger itself was well constructed, being nearly identical to its original iteration. I had received no complaints from Gilda when I had told her my idea, truthfully I think that she was more disturbed by the knife than she let on and was glad to be rid of it. However, my alterations were designed to be functional and cheap. The grip had been lengthened and the pommel had been replaced completely, both tasks having been done by a blacksmith’s unicorn apprentice for a relatively low price on account of its ease of creation and the fact that I had allowed him to recreate my design for future clients. Furthermore, a simple guard of curved steel had been added, running from one of the crossguards to the modified hilt. This itself had taken most of the time to get right, since I had made sure that it was just tight enough to prevent my hoof from slipping through but loose enough to allow it to be removed with little effort.

The actual means of holding sheath to my arm was relatively simple, consisting of two adjustable straps that went through two separate inbuilt loops at either end of the blade that were then buckled to my arm. Luckily, these were easy to obtain, having been purchased by Gilda using my money from one of her contacts, meaning that they were genuine deerskin leather rather than some imitation product. They also seemed to have been good quality, fixing the flat of the blade tightly against my coat, with barely any movement no matter how hard I shook it. This fact also extended to the knife itself, which always stayed firmly in its sheath unless I deliberately pulled it out by the hilt.

After unbuckling the straps with some difficulty and gently placing the blade down on the nightstand, I picked up the newspaper. My eyes immediately gravitated towards the picture of a slightly strained looking Celestia flanked by two guards addressing a crowd of ponies from a balcony and the article it related to.

Food Crisis Bill Rejected by Noble Council

In a move that stunned the entirety of Equestria today, the Council of Nobles has rejected the Equestrian Emergency Food Shortage Relief Act. “I give my solemn word that my sister and I are doing all in our power to convince the council of the importance of these laws,” Celestia said. However, several council members have gone on record as saying that no compromise is possible for the current laws. Prince Blueblood, the council’s speaker, when asked about the reasoning behind the rejection said that it was to do with privilege, that it is the nobility’s right to claim a certain amount of every other pony’s earnings and that Celestia’s plans threatened that very concept. In the mean time, the two sisters have sprung into action, suspending all non-critical money expenditure of the crown, ranging from formal events to food purchase. Furthermore, a more barebones version of the plan of action is to be implemented, providing a rebate for lower class families to help with heightened food prices. Unfortunately, due to the much lower funds at the crown’s disposal, coupled with the inefficiency of taking money only to give back a smaller amount at a later time, does not bode well for this scheme.

Once I finished reading the article, I immediately did so again to ensure that I understood everything correctly. As I did, the gears in my head began to turn as the information sunk in, a realisation and plan forming all at once.

“Gilda!” I suddenly called out in excitement, causing the griffoness to jump slightly in surprise. “Do you know what this means? With this much animosity against the government right now we might be able to stage a full revolution.”

The blank stare that she gave me stumped me for a moment, until I caught onto what it was that was causing confusion. “We could totally remove Celestia and Luna from power and establish a new government in its place,” I offered by way of an explanation.

"We?" Gilda responded flatly, her arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

"Listen,” I pleaded with her. “Every revolution needs a starting point, and this could be ours. Right now, the public's opinion of the government is unquestionably low. Everyone that's not an aristocrat, whether it be griffon or pony, will be affected by this." I continued, practically slamming the paper on to the bed.

"Your point?" she retorted, sounding far less enthusiastic than I had expected.

"My point is that we can use this to unite them against the council, and then maybe even the royal sisters.”

"There you go with that ‘We’ again." Gilda said, making her way to stand next to the bed. "Look. I was willing to let you have your little dreams while you were still sick, but what you’re talking about here is serious stuff. I’ve worked hard for what I’ve got, and I’m not gonna risk it any more than I already have.”

“You don’t believe we could do it, do you?” I asked, my head falling to look into my lap. I was dejected but not necessarily surprised, I couldn’t really hope to push Gilda much further on blind trust.

“No, I don’t,” she replied, giving a firm shake of her head. “Nothing like that has even been done before.”

“Humans have done it,” I said, lifting my eyes up to meet her, sensing an opportunity. “We’ve killed more than one king,” At my words I saw Gilda’s eyes light up in interest. “Many had their heads cut off, in front of a crowd no less, and do you know what happened?” I received only a muted shake of the head as a response. “Everyone cheered.”

“Gilda, just imagine what we could do together. With this,” I held up the newspaper, shaking it for emphasis, “we can make the ponies hate Celestia, make them abandon her in her hour of need, and have them cheer when she falls.” I had her then, the way that she leaned forward was indication enough. “And don’t forget the griffons. You would be equals, free to follow your nature and eat meat as intended. All of it is in our grasp, but I lack the in-depth knowledge of Equestria to accomplish anything of merit. However, with you on side, then the sky's the limit. It’s all up to you.”

“No,” she said with a vigorous shaking of her head, not even pausing for a second after I finished talking. “No way. I’m not going to risk going to jail over some ridiculous human ideas.”

“I understand Gilda,” I replied, struggling to recover from surprise over her immediate refusal. I was certain that I had had her. “I have nothing to back me up, but what would you say if I said I could prove myself.”

“I’d say that you don’t know when to cut your losses.” She replied in a tense tone, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve already said no and that’s final.”

“I only want a chance to show you what I can do,” I said, forcing myself to talk evenly, hiding my growing anger over her stubbornness. “I have a proposal.” 

As soon as the words exited my mouth the griffoness made to interrupt me, though I held up my forehooves and quickened my voice in response. “Now just hear me out! Tomorrow morning you take me to a public place full of griffons and I give a speech. If I succeed in impressing you, then you take my offer and we begin to plan out our revolution on the very same day. If I fail, then I will be at your command. If you want me to stop my plans for griffon equality, I’ll stop. If you want me to get a job to work off my debt, I’ll do it.”

As I finished Gilda regarded me with suspicious eyes. “And what if I refuse to go along with this whole stupid plan?” she asked warily.

“Then I continue on with what I am doing now: writing my pamphlets and working to remove the societal restriction on griffons. Unfortunately, I can only see this going one way. I’ll eventually get better, but without any income I’ll have to stay here. One day you’ll get sick of me and we’ll be forced to part on less than cordial terms,” I paused for a moment, before adding earnestly, “which is something that I don’t want to happen.”

By the look of the throbbing blood vessel that was visible even under her feathers, Gilda wasn’t too pleased with either prospect. A tense silence filled the room as I waited for her reply with baited breath. 

Perhaps it was a touch manipulative of me to do what I did, but what I had planned was for the greater good.

“Fine,” she eventually spat out, extending her claw for me to shake. “We’ve got a deal.”

Eagerly, I extended my blue furred appendage to clasp hers as best as I could. As her claw enveloped my own—the exact same way as we had done when we first met—she suddenly gripped it tightly, and wrenched me forward so that my face was almost touching hers, muzzle to beak.

“But just to be clear,” she said in a low tone, “this is the last time I do anything like this for you. After tomorrow, you’ll give up these ridiculous plans of yours and let me get on with my life.”

“Trust me Gilda,” I replied in a solemn tone, my left foreleg positioning itself over my heart. “I am a man of my word. If tomorrow you judge me to fail, then that is exactly what I will do.”

For a moment, the griffoness regarded me with a piercing gaze like she was staring into my soul, making me shiver. Eventually she nodded, releasing my hoof and backing off. “Good, I’ll hold you to it.”

“Alright then,” I said with a smile and renewed enthusiasm, ideas bubbling away in my mind. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a speech to write.”

*****

As we walked side by side, the usual stares were cast our way. However, this time I was not so sure that it was our conflicting species that drew attention. I myself must have cut an unusual sight, an earth pony who had white bandages wound around his hips walking with a slight limp, with a dagger, hilt facing downwards and guard pointing away from him, strapped to his left foreleg. Really, I was amazed I didn’t get more than a few strange looks.

“So,” I began, attempting to strike up a conversation with Gilda to distract me from the butterflies in my stomach. “I’ve been putting some more thought into the pseudonym I would publish my writing under.”

Glancing at me sideways, the griffoness shot me an unimpressed look. “Ugh,” she groaned. “It’s not going to be another stupid one like True Voice is it?”

“Hey,” I said, adopting a tone of mock offendedness and a subtle smirk, “that was a perfectly good name, it’s hardly my fault that you dismissed it.”

“It was a name fit for a dweeb,” Gilda shot back, including some of that strange slang that I had only just gotten used to. “It was like you were trying so hard to make it sound cool, that you made it lame instead.”

I gave a soft sigh of annoyance, doing my best to pinch the bridge of my nose whilst not falling over, an action that I performed successfully, albeit shakily, even though we were still moving.

“Well do you have any suggestions then?” I questioned, trying my best to not let my exasperation fill my voice. I wasn’t very successful.

“Why don’t you just use that lame name that Celestia gave you,” she replied, the tone of her voice betraying how fed up she was in the matter. “It might freak her out when she hears what you’re doing.” She paused for a second before quickly adding, “If you can even do it.”

“I can do it.” I replied, slightly angry, if not understandable, of Gilda’s scepticism. “Besides, I refuse to use that fool’s name as my own.”

My response prompted Gilda to quirk an eyebrow at me. “You talk like you’re not even the same person.”

At the griffonesses’ words, my pace gradually slowed to a stop. Not yet noticing what I was doing, Gilda quickly overtook me, before she turned her head backwards, recognised what had happened and backtracked to my position.

“We’re not the same person,” I spoke, my voice quiet partially due to our unintended audience and partially due to my own resolve. “Clickity Clack was nothing but Celestia’s puppet, content with his allotment in life, crafted by her with the express purpose of making her more comfortable with her failures.”

“Uh... alright then,” the griffoness said rubbing the back of her neck, obviously uncomfortable with our conversation. “Well then why don’t you pick a name to do with fire, like in that dream you told me about.”

At Gilda’s words, a brief flash of those grinning skulls appeared in my mind’s eye and I felt a growing sense of unease at their very mention. Trying to shake off the feeling, I began walking again, Gilda quickly joining me.

“Perhaps,” I admitted, doing my best to maintain my neutral body language. “The more I think about that dream, the more I think I understand what it symbolised. All those ponies burning alive for the sake of gifts, it’s an analogy for cutie marks. Their reliance on their ‘destiny’ destroys everything else that could have ever been for them.”

“Maybe,” Gilda said with a shrug. “Did you consider the possibility that it was only a dream, with no hidden meaning involved at all?”

“At the very least, completely removing meaning,” I replied, “you and it saved my life.”

At my words the griffoness gave a sigh, suddenly looking tired. “Look can you stop going on about me saving your life? I’m not some hero. Your blood’s on my mind enough without you bringing it up every five seconds.”

As soon as the words slipped from her mouth a look of horror filled her features as she clasped a claw over her beak, as if she could somehow prevents words that had already been said from slipping out.

At her reaction, a realisation struck me that left me feeling awful for being so blind. “Gilda,” I began softly, doing my best to be gentle with her in order to not provoke her temper, as experience had taught. “Do you feel guilty for the pain you caused me?”

I didn’t seem to garner any reaction from my companion. Her eyes remained fixed straight ahead, as she guided us to our destination and no words came readily in reply.

“If you do, don’t,” I said, moving closer to her so that there were only a few inches of space between us. “Everything that you did was at my own request.”

Before I could continue Gilda spoke. “Look can we just drop it? It’s stupid.”

Though I opened my mouth to argue, I quickly thought better of it. “Sure. But, I’m here if you want to talk about it, whenever you’re ready.”

Gilda remained silent for a while, merely walking beside me with her eyes cast off to the side. She seemed to be struggling to find the right thing to say.

“Thanks,” she eventually said, allowing her posture to relax, as she flashed me a grateful smile.

Suddenly, her expression hardened. “Don’t think that this gets you off the hook,” she spoke, her usual arrogance back in place, “this little speech of yours needs to be pretty impressive, if you want to convince me this dumb revolution can work.”

“Now that’s the Gilda I know,” I teased, bumping my shoulder into her side. “And don’t worry, I’ll get on to convincing you as soon as possible.”

After that, we lapsed back into silence, though neither one of us made a move to once again distance ourselves from each other.

“Well, here we are,” Gilda suddenly spoke, giving a small flourish that encapsulated the square that opened up before us.

Most of the area was taken up by market stalls, each one containing a variety of different wares, from toys to food. The stalls themselves came in various degrees of shabbiness. Most seemed to be home made, hammered together with planks of woods with the wares for sale painted on a sign. Even then, no two were the same with different colours, sizes, and general designs scattered everywhere. I couldn’t even attempt to guess how many griffons were there, all I knew was that they were densely packed into the narrow lanes that the stores created. Despite what appeared to be a reasonable level of prosperity present, most of the griffons still did not look to be in good health, with the now typical look of underdeveloped muscles and exposed ribs.

“I wouldn’t have expected there to be such a turnout, when food’s so expensive right now,” I observed half to myself, my eyes still wandering around, every few seconds noticing something new and interesting.

At my words Gilda gave a short snort. “Just look at most of us,” she said, “we’ve been having a food shortage far longer than the ponies. Besides, one advantage to meat is that it wasn’t ruined after Discords return, so the price is still the same as before, though it was always pretty expensive to begin with.”

“Is that why those cages are over there?” I questioned, indicating a vendor who had various different dirt-covered animals on display, all of them looking forlorn and helpless.

“Good eye,” Gilda complimented, bumping her shoulder into mine, though she put a enough strength into it that I stumbled slightly. “Those are sold as pets, though most griffon pets seem to have an unfortunately short life span, if you catch my drift.” She chuckled slightly at her own joke.

“How are you even able to do that?” I asked, “Surely the guard would have caught on to what they’re doing.”

“That's the beauty of it,” she replied with a wide grin. “The one good thing about that bitch Celestia is that she makes sure that griffons are allowed to enter all professions, same as ponies. So, it’s perfectly fine for us to sell them out in the open. Of course, they eventually get found out and punished, but by then they’ve made enough money that they don’t care.”

Briefly, I pondered her explanation, my gaze casually drifting around the area until I noticed something of interest off in the distance.

“Well that fountain looks as good a place as any to deliver my speech,” I said, indicating the water feature in question. It was actually incredibly simple, being nothing more than a few increasingly larger basins with a slightly raised top which the water flowed gently from.

Sitting down on my haunches, I felt the borrowed bags begin to slide down my back. As the nearly empty bags slid over my wounds, I winced in pain, the flesh there was still incredibly tender.

Flipping open the simple clasp, I retrieved my painstakingly polished speech with shaking hooves. Looking over at my destination, I tried to clasp the pages in a single foreleg, though I quickly abandoned the idea after a light breeze almost tore them out of my grip. Reluctantly I settled on my mouth.

“Cud yu fld unto vis?” I asked, holding the bags out to the griffoness, which she took without complaint.

As I began to I trudge over to the fountain, I could feel myself beginning to shake like a leaf.

“Hey!” Gilda suddenly called out, making me twist my neck to witness her giving me a half wave and a smile. “Good luck out there, and don’t be nervous. It’ll all be over soon enough and we can both go on with our normal lives.”

“Wow,” I said under my breath, “thanks for the vote of confidence.” Though I was not amused with her implication that I would fail, I did appreciate the sentiment behind her words.

Besides, she looked nice when she smiled.

The trip over to the fountain was simultaneously too short and too long. On one hand, a part of me was excited for what was to come, a chance to show the world my hard work and begin my plans for a better tomorrow. On the other hand, my breathing was starting to quicken already and I could feel sweat forming uncomfortably under my coat.

Eventually I reached my destination. Nervously, I stepped up onto the small ledge that was created by the fountain and turned to face the market.

From my position, the morning sun shone uncomfortably in my eyes. Luckily, it was still early enough that it had yet to rise above the buildings, shielding me from the bulk of its rays.

Though a few eyes turned towards me once I was raised above the heads of the griffons around me, most seemed to consciously ignore me, as if they could ward off the strange pony by pretending he didn’t exist.

Gilda herself had already blended into the crowd, leaning casually against one of the stalls. Though to the passing observer she seemed to be at ease, upon closer inspection her rapidly darting eyes gave her away.

Somehow I managed to position myself into a sitting position on the water’s edge, freeing up both of my forelegs to hold onto my pre-prepared notes.

Briefly I struggled to swallow the enormous lump that had formed in my throat as my hooves shook uncontrollably.

Clearing my throat as best I could to catch as much attention as possible, I launched into my speech.

“H—hear me griffons, as I stand before you today,” I began, my voice quivering so noticeably I couldn’t help but flinch. “Your punishment has gone on long enough. Today shall be the last day in which you will feel guilt for the sins of the father. You have all paid for their wrongs, and watched yourselves and your families suffer as a result.”

Whilst I spoke, my eyes remained glued to the pages in front of me, safe in the knowledge that as long as they remained there I wouldn’t need to acknowledge that anyone else was even around.

“Let me ask you this: what justice is it that you are forced to adopt the ponies way, to—.”

“Hey pony!” an angry female voice suddenly called out. Unconsciously, I glanced upwards, bringing my speech to a grinding halt as I surveyed the sheer number of griffons before me. “What’s that you’re saying about the ancestors!?”

“He’s bad mouthing the ancestors!” another voice called out further back in the pack, which was accompanied by a low rumble of assent.

“I—I would do no such thing as even dream of insulting your ancestors,” I said, attempting to regain control of a situation that was getting more dangerous by the second. “I merely me—.”

“Hey pony,” called out yet another griffon from the very front of the gradually shrinking semicircle around me, “how’s this for your dreams?”

Turning away from me the griffon bared his hindquarters and lifted up his tail in a rather lewd manner. The corresponding laughter at my blustered expression encompassed the entire crowd, the people at the back probably having no idea why they were even laughing. Despite this, I was beginning to feel helpless with the growing animosity against me. Even Gilda this time seemed stumped, only able to offer me a shrug from her new position near the front of the group.

My silence seemed to only bolster the griffon’s growing confidence as their mass grew ever closer, threatening to wash over me like a wave.

Despite the danger I refused to give up, I had come too far only to get stuck on the first step of my plans. In my desperation I began to cast my eyes around the market, looking for even the slightest hint of something that I could use.

I needed something to show the griffons that I was on their side, something that revealed the similarities between us. However, I did not really know enough information to specifically build off of. Growing more panicked, I searched for anything that was fundamentally the same, anything that I could show them that a regular pony could not.

Suddenly, my eyes latched onto something. Almost immediately, my brain produced a plan that could save me. However, a part of me was still reluctant to do so, to carry out such a disgusting act to save my own skin. After a few moments of hesitation, the throng before me growing louder and louder, my mind was made up.

Awkwardly, I stepped down from the ledge I was seated on and immediately dashed to the right, where the press of griffons was the least. Though some griffons moved to block my path, they quickly abandoned those plans when they realised that I wasn’t going to slow down. To them, a charging earth pony was a dangerous thing.

Soon enough, I found myself galloping through the maze of stalls, my eyes whipping back and forth in a hope to find what I was looking for.

Suddenly, as if by magic, the object of my search appeared in front of me. It stood abandoned like all of the other stalls around me, though it was not devoid of life. By that I point I was moving so fast that I was unable to slow myself down properly, my hooves grinding uselessly against the cobblestones as my legs skittered over the ground.

In slow motion, I saw the stall and its contents loom closer and closer, until I collided head on with some of its wares. For a second, I stood there dazed, my forelegs splayed out in front of me leaving my hindquarters thrust upwards into the air.

Shaking my head a few times to clear it, I let out a groan as I pulled myself back up on my hooves. I forced myself to ignore the orchestra of squeaks, chirping and other such various noises that my unintended collision had caused, which was no easy feat, considering its sheer volume. Casting a quick glance over the various battered metal cages, I snatched up the first one that contained any sign of life, a rabbit which seemed to be cowering in one corner.

By that point, my lungs were pumping like a pair of bellows, desperately trying to overcome my lack of physical fitness. To add to my misery, my flanks were burning in pure agony from the chafing of the tight bandages against my wounds. I thought that it might have started bleeding again, though I couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t just sweat.

Spinning around wildly, I immediately galloped back the way I had came. All the while the cage swung around violently, forcing me to bite down hard onto the wooden handle.

On my way I dodged and weaved around a few griffons that had already drifted away from the crowd. I noted, with a sense of relief, most still remained where they were when I left them, some looking at me in confusion, others with mirth.

This time the pack seemed to part before me like a wave, providing me with a direct path to the fountain.

Once again I stepped up onto the ledge, my balance even more precarious thanks to the cage that I was forced to rest one hoof on. I had been gone for less than a minute.

“Hey,” an outraged voice called out from near the front of the mob, “that’s my property, you thief. Give it here right now.”

The male griffon that was now advancing towards me with an angry scowl seemed to be in the prime of his life, though I could only tell by the fact that none of his feathers were grey. He seemed to also have no obvious signs of malnourishment, his coat healthy and ribs hidden, probably a direct result of sampling his own wares. Despite this, his build seemed to be nothing special, with no obvious muscle bulk or tone. Rather, he seemed to be a perfectly average griffon, which made him far stronger than me in my weakened state.

Without warning, another griffon streaked out from the crush and pounced onto the back of my would be assailant, causing them both to roll end over end. After two flips both figures came to a halt, the salesman now being pinned to the ground in a firm headlock. With a start of surprise I realised that my rescuer was Gilda. I hardly recognised her with her face being set into such a savage snarl.

“Keep going,” she urged, her voiced strained with effort as her captive squirmed weakly underneath her. “Finish what you started.”

Though most of the griffons looked on agape, none seemed to make any clear move to intervene.  

With a bit of effort, I managed to force open the bent door of the cage. Reaching in, the rabbit seemed to put up no resistance as I picked it up, though its chest was rising and falling so quickly that I half expected it to drop dead from shock. Holding the squirming rabbit gently in my forelegs, I stroked its head repeatedly until I felt its heartbeat slow and its struggling cease. Whilst I did this, the crowd seemed to quieten down slightly as they looked on in confusion.

Steeling myself for what was to come next, I cast my mind backwards. I saw Luna gazing at me impartially, unaffected by my pleas as she collaborated with her foul sister. I saw Cadence looking back at me with confusion, blind to her tyrannical manipulations. But worst of all, I saw Celestia standing over me, a serene smile plastered on her face, completely sure that the hurt she had forced upon me was entirely benevolent.

I had suffered at the hands of Equestria’s leaders, just as the griffons had. That made them my brothers and sisters, my comrades in injustice.

I felt rage, which I had suppressed with all my might since the party, flare to life within me. In its warmth, my aching flanks lost their importance and my nervousness lost all meaning. It filled up my entire being and made me strong.

Taking the rabbit up in one foreleg, holding it against me like it was a baby, I gently reached around it and grasped the hilt of my dagger. With a reasonable pull the blade exited silently, glinting slightly in the early morning sun.

Catching sight of my weapon a hushed silence swept over the assembled masses.

“What good are words, without actions to prove them?” I called out to the eerily quiet square.

Taking a breath to steady myself, I looked down at the rabbit that I held against me. It seemed to look up at me with confusion in its eyes, casting its gaze between my face and the knife. Perhaps, in that moment, I felt some sort of connection with the thing, but that was ridiculous, it was just a mindless beast and nothing more.

Not allowing myself to hesitate any further, I drew back my right hoof, and with all my might drove it towards the rabbit. The blade grasped in it easily pierced through its throat and travelled up through its brain. Even though it died almost instantly, it still had enough time to take a single gurgling breath before its chest ceased to move.

Blood dripped from the rabbit’s wound and travelled down its coat, intermingling with the dirt to become a rusty red colour. Some of it even managed to drip onto my own coat, its sickening wetness sending a shiver down my spine.

Though looking down at the mutilated carcass I felt bile rise in my throat, I forced it down. My mind screamed at me to push forward and capitalise on the crowd’s undoubtable shock.

Baring my teeth in my best imitation of a predatory smile, I looked upwards to face the masses.

“Look at yourselves,” I spat, some venom entering my voice. “You are so quick to defend your ancestors at the slightest provocation, yet your actions shame them far worse than I ever could.”

“In these times we all must make a choice,” I continued, my voice growing in volume as a red haze overtook my vision. “Do we remain the meek, or become the strong!?”

I knew then that I couldn’t delay the final step in my plan any longer. I had everyone in attendance enraptured, even the vendor whose rabbit I killed looked on in awe. All I needed to do was seal the deal.

Taking a final deep breath, I drove my mouth down towards the rabbit’s neck. Biting down hard on its still warm flesh, I was unable to separate a large enough piece, my grinding teeth being incapable of doing so. Fighting back my growing reluctance to continue I jerked my head violently side to side a number of times whilst simultaneously pulling the corpse away from me with all my might. With an especially violent pull, a chunk came loose with a sickening tearing sound, the remaining force almost causing the rabbit to fling out of my grip.

Not even giving myself a chance to think, I swallowed down my gory meal, the fur coating it sticking to my esophagus the entire way down.

Resisting the urge to gag, I turned to face the assembled griffons once more, my muzzle now stained with blood.

“I have made my choice this day!” I yelled out over the square, my volume being only slightly below screaming.

Catching sight of Gilda, looking at me now with widened eyes, an idea presented itself to me. Quickly, I wiped the blade of my weapon several times using a moderately clean patch of the deceased rabbit’s fur, resheathing it once I was satisfied by its cleanliness. Gently, I tossed the rabbit’s corpse to her, who quickly untangled her arms from the vendor—who appeared to be paralyzed by shock—and caught it at the last moment. Luckily, after staring at it for half a second she caught on to what I wanted her to do, and took her own bite of the rabbit, her beak and talons both becoming coated in blood.

“She has made her choice,” I cried to the mass, pointing my right hoof towards the griffoness, “Know that from this day forth, I, Righteous Flame, am your brother and that you all are mine.” I then began to sweep it slowly over the assembled masses, my gaze following its path. "There is a brighter future ahead, but unless we stand united with our fellows, regardless of species, and are prepared to fight under the banner of brotherhood, it will forever remain beyond our grasp."

“The ponies from on high.” I gestured vaguely towards the castle. “want to change who you are. They preach harmony, but only for those who conform to their narrow ideals. What does it matter if you starve? As long as you remain obedient, they do not care. Today I give you my word, my brothers and sisters in arms, I will fight for a future without discrimination. A future where you will not need to make a choice between crime or watching your family waste away. For us to eat meat is an irrefutable fact, a law of nature. It is time for us all to accept each other for what we are, no matter if we are pony or griffon, and make a stand, together.”

In the cavernous silence that followed, every griffon present stared at me utterly speechless; some beaks even hanging open in shock. Suddenly, and without any obvious origin, the entire market burst into wild cheering. Some raised their fists into the air, others whooped in excited, and a few even chanted my new name. The latter trend was quickly picked up on by everyone in attendance, its volume rising so high that I felt like I could cast down the gods themselves.

Whilst this was still going on, I motioned Gilda to come up and join me, though she responded with a shake of her head.

Determined to have her receive at least some of the praise, I jumped down from my perch. As soon as my hooves collided with the ground, the crowd rushed forward to meet me, obscuring Gilda from view. They seemed to wall me in as everywhere I turned I was greeted with a beaming griffon who wanted me to shake their claw or offer their appreciation.

“Hey!” a gruff voice suddenly called out, “Just what in Celestia’s name is going on here?”

“Guard!” a female voice screamed out as a reply.

Suddenly, griffons seemed to be bolting in every direction, whipping past me and dragging me in a multitude of directions at once. I could see a few griffons take to the skies, though it was a minute percentage of the original size of those gathered.

“Gilda,” I called out pitifully into the mass of bodies, looking around frantically for a glimpse of her familiar white and purple plumage. By that point I was beginning to panic, if I failed to rendezvous with Gilda I would have either been completely lost in the city or captured by the guard and dragged off to Celestia.

Suddenly I caught sight of a griffon hovering above the rest of the crowd, its lack of motion besides its wings making it stand out amongst the chaos.

Desperately I tried to squint against the glare of the sun in an attempt to determine if the figure was who I hoped it was.

It seemed that the figure was also looking for someone, its head moving back and forth, scanning the fleeing horde. It appeared that the stranger found who they were looking for, as their head seemed to settle facing roughly in my vicinity.

What came next startled me. Tucking its wings in close to its body, it suddenly swooped towards me, almost making me scream in terror due to its predatory appearance.

Then, I felt strong claws grasp my forelegs close to my torso. Suddenly, I felt myself being lifted, the ground simply falling away as I found myself above the press of bodies.

“Ancestors, you’re heavy,” my rescuer swore, their wings beating laboriously.

Her voice was unmistakable.

“G—Gilda,” I sputtered out in shock.

“The one and only.” She favoured me with an arrogant smirk. “Who else would save your pony ass?”

Before I got a chance to reply, my eyes drifted down towards the ground so far below. Looking at the distant buildings along with my uselessly dangling back legs caused a response to die in my throat.

It seemed that my situation tapped into some prehistoric section of my brain as I began to struggle and squirm. I did not know why I was doing what I was doing, I only knew that I needed to get away.

“Stop that,” Gilda scolded angrily. When she received no compliance she instead opted to angle her body downwards for half a second, causing us to drop suddenly. This caused a terrible sensation in my stomach that threatened to expel my unscheduled meal, though it did manage to snap me back to senses.

“Sorry,” I called over the rushing wind, as I let my body go limp. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Just trust me,” Gilda responded, her voice and muscles straining over the effort to regain our lost altitude. “I know what I am doing.”

I did trust her and so I allowed for us to lapse into silence to save her the effort of talking, flying and carrying me all at once.

“Okay,” she abruptly spoke, startling me out of the relaxation exercises I was performing in an attempt to prevent myself from panicking again. “Now don’t freak out but I’m going to angle us into a gilde.”

Without even giving me a moment to react, her wings stopped beating and we began to descend slowly in a lazy circle.

“By the way, cool name,” she added.

“Thanks,” I replied, my current state of near panic making me forget some of my manners. “For lack of a better term, I pulled it out of my ass.” I paused, before giving her my best approximation of a sly wink I could manage at the time. “With your help of course.”

She laughed. “Well Righteous Flame, lets head back. We’ve got work to do.”

As the ground grew closer, my laughter intermingled with her own.

Side Chapter 2: Blueblood

“Make sure that no one disturbs me,” I ordered, giving the servant a glare, “If anypony asks just tell them that I will be with them shortly.”

“Of course sir,” The drab grey butler replied, maintaining a careful monotone, even as he struggled to look at me through his thick white eyebrows, “I will remain here for as long as you wish for me to stay.”

Not even bothering to reply to him, I quickly strode into my office, shutting and bolting the door telekinetically behind me.

Even through the thick stone walls, I could still hear the faint sounds of the party going on in the adjacent room. With well practised motions, I undid the buttons of my suit jacket and stepped out of it, levitating it to hang on the back of my chair.

I couldn’t help myself as I let out a rather scandalous sigh; whilst the thing served its purpose to highlight the strength of my frame, it was quite tight. Whenever I wore it, I never seemed to be able to take a full breath. I was willing to bear the uncomfortableness in the name of image, however.

As was to be expected, a fire was crackling in the fireplace, warding me against the chill that had already begun to invade the air.

With careful a motion, I seated myself in my desk chair and searched immediately for a scrap of parchment to record the thoughts that I was struggling to keep inside of me. Hurriedly, my eyes darted over the mahogany expanse. My task was not made easier by the chaos that engulfed it. Everywhere were stacks of paper and maps, each of them relevant to some matter or another that my various duties required of me.

At least, I assumed. Honestly, it was such a mess that I wouldn’t be surprised if there were still documents belonging to my father somewhere hidden amongst it all.

Finally, I managed to find a blank sheet hidden in one of the drawers. Taking up a quill and dipping it in a nearby golden inkwell, I began to write.

I, Prince Blueblood LVI, am writing this as my confession of guilt in accordance to my part in the Equestrian food shortage.

It all began after the defeat and reimprisonment of Discord. Perhaps at the beginning, everypony partied without restraint, but after that glorious night of celebrations, things soon grew worse.

Soon enough, ponies were growing ill, I myself being bedridden for several days, stricken with symptoms that I would rather not reveal. Though at first everypony panicked, it was the kind of panic that did not prevent somepony from getting up and going to work in the morning. Rather, it was a nagging at the back of your mind that continually reminded you that something was off, that at any moment things could return to normal or grow infinitely worse. Many ponies, myself included, expected that it was some sort of residual effect from Discord himself, and that everything would be back to normal in no time at all.

Alas, these eventually proved to be false hopes. A couple of days stretched into a week and an ever growing number of ponies were still getting sick. The ones that were stricken first only grew worse with each day and some were even beginning to die.

Without delay, a full inquest was ordered by my divine aunts and after only a short time the source was discovered. It was the food, tainted by chaos magic, making it toxic to everypony.

Of course, a bill was soon put forward before the council and of course it passed without complaint. All foodstuffs in the kingdom were to be scanned and everything that was found to be tainted taken away for incineration.

It was a good plan, but it had one fatal flaw: nearly everything edible was tainted. We could only watch in horror as the affected food percentage grew, and our stores dwindled.

Myself and my house were hit particularly hard by this. Over fifty percent of our assets are tied up in food production in some form; from simple land leasing, to distribution.

“Food is a non-removable commodity,” my grandfather, who directed my family down this avenue of ownership, always said. “A pony can always stop building, relaxing, or Tartarus, even bathing, but they always need to eat.”

At the time, it must have seemed like a magnificent idea, an invariable perpetual motion machine that would generate money without fail. Of course, at the time, Equestria hadn’t had any hint of any type of strife for centuries. I used to think he was a genius, now all I can do is curse his name.

I could only look on agast, as my family wealth began to dwindle. Each day, I was forced to sign off on documents that acknowledged that my wares were being taken away. Each day, I could see our profit margins spiraling further into the negative, eating away at my family’s wealth. In only a couple of weeks, it had grown so bad that our position as a great house was beginning to be threatened. I even got so desperate that it became necessary to make up for our level of hay production by introducing common grass into it. So what if a few ponies became sick? It was easy enough to write this off as tainted chaos magic that hadn’t yet been removed.

Luckily, our salvation came in the form of something that I had never paid much attention to until then: the noble stipend that was paid through taxation, something that we ourselves were exempt from. With the money gained from it, as well as cutting a lot of house expenditure, I managed to make it appear that our house was just as invincible as others believed, that we were weathering the crisis with little trouble.

All I needed to do was lay low for a year or two, and then food production would have returned to normal and my house’s income would have done the same.

However, my plans were shattered when the next council bill was given to me. At the beginning, I barely read it, though thank Celestia that I did. It was a plan to solve the crisis by taking away our noble privilege and returning it to the unwashed masses.

I couldn’t allow for that to happen, as the consequences would be unthinkable: my family cast out into the streets, disgraced from high society, and our noble lineage reduced to nothing.

So I did what any family head would do, I prevented the bill from passing. It was actually shocking, how easy it was to convince my fellow council members to vote against it. Most that put up any resistance quickly folded, after they learned of the support that I had already garnered. In fact, I even caught word that one or two houses supported my effort because they, and I quote, “wanted a white Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

The bill was denied, just as I planned, and we all celebrated for preserving our ancient privilege.

This happened little over a week ago, and most of my fellow aristocrats are still ecstatic over what we have accomplished. Even as I write this, the party that I am throwing is entirely for that purpose. Though, of course, certain measures have been implemented to ensure that money has been saved. After all, who would notice that the wine is growing steadily cheaper, as the night moves on and they grow more intoxicated, or that cheaper caviar has been mixed in with the more expensive?

Of course now, the reconstruction efforts will be slowed, and it will take longer for our businesses to return to profitability. But what good is profitability, if you don’t even own the business? As things stand, all I need to do is maintain enough influence in the council—a relatively easy feat—by maintaining the original purported reason behind our original vetoing, that it is what we wished and so it will be.

Hurriedly, I scanned the paper over several times for any errors, correcting those that I found with the use of an erasing spell. After all, this was important, this was the type of thing that was put into history books for foals to learn about. I knew that it did not cast the best light onto me, but it was the truth.

After a few read-throughs, I allowed myself a satisfied nod and smile.

To complete the image, I carefully signed my name at the bottom of the page, the practised loops and curls coming as naturally to me as breathing after spending nearly my entire life signing documents.

Next, I carefully ran the bowl of a specially made spoon, which several hard granules of wax had been deposited into, over a nearby candle, making sure to keep my magic only wrapped around the handle, and away from the flame. After the wax was thoroughly melted, I applied it to the bottom half of the confession and quickly pushed my seal into it, leaving behind the personal crest of my house, a single drop of blood imprinted onto a shield, which itself had two swords crossed behind it. This, coupled with the specially made blue wax that was exclusive to my family, would leave no doubt as to the authenticity of the document.

After a few moments, the wax had hardened, and my masterpiece was finished. Therefore, it was a great regret to me that I then scrunched it into a ball and deposited it into the fireplace. As I watched the flames begin to eat into the truth, I felt relieved and saddened.

As I said, I would do anything for my family, even if it meant that the entire world had to suffer to ensure its survival. Perhaps history and Celestia would judge me harshly, but as long as I continued on my current course, the blame will fall onto me and not my house. Soon enough, I would be left as an outsider in high society, as the pride of victory shrivelled and the cold realization of what we had done set in. A personal damnation from divine aunts could hardly be weathered forever.

Shrugging my jacket back on, I simultaneously returned to the festive mindset that was required of me.

And so, as I opened the door and fixed the servant with a glare, I accepted my fate.

Chapter 10

One must always remember that a stranger is just another individual who may help us to better ourselves and for us to better them in turn.

—The Harmony Doctrine, written by the original founders of Equestria

“Look, it’s like you said. We need this, and as far as I can see, there’s no other way that we can get it.”

“I just can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” I whispered back nervously, my eyes and head darting to focus on every shady nook or cranny that came into view. Certainly, my paranoia was not helped by the lack of lighting anywhere around us, the pale sliver of moonlight seeming only offering enough illumination to prevent us from walking into a wall.

Honestly, one tends to forget how dark and cold the nights are without something artificial to help light it or clothing to help ward against the autumn air. It made me wish for the comforting reassurance of my dagger and also curse myself for leaving it behind. At the time it had seemed better to avoid the chance of someone recognising me by it at a later date.

As we walked further down the deserted street, I couldn’t help but wince every time my hooves contacted with the ground. The sound that they produced seemed to pierce the night air and left me fearing what they could attract to us that lurked in the shadows, Celestia affiliated or otherwise.

“Stop that,” Gilda hissed at me, casting annoyed eyes in my direction, the bags on her back rustling and clinking lightly. “You’re only making us look suspicious by jerking your head around like that. For ancestors’ sakes, just calm down and walk normal.”

Letting out a snort of annoyance, I nevertheless decided to try and follow her advice. Gilda had much more expertise in areas such as this and so I was more than willing to defer to her for the moment.

“It just doesn’t seem right is all I’m saying,” I continued defensively.

“Look, you said it yourself, we need a printing press and I don’t know what hunt you went on but mine didn’t turn up any leads except this.” She gave a fluid half shrug with a single shoulder, her arm raised. “What does it matter that we need to get one this way—.”

“You mean steal it,” I interrupted. “Don’t try to sugar coat it Gilda.”

“Yeah, steal it,” Gilda replied, seemingly blasé about the whole thing. Nevertheless, the change of phrasing seemed to give her pause for a moment. Raising up one of her claws, she ran it through her feather fringe, seeming to mull something over. When she spoke again, her voice had lost its hard tone and was much kinder, “If it helps, just think of it like this: The school is one of the richest in the country and is personally overlooked by Celestia. We’re probably doing the brats a favour more than anything else, gives them the excuse to buy a brand new one with the bitch’s money.”

Her words did help me feel a little better, though it did make me feel dirty for being comforted about my intention to steal. However, she was right. It was a necessity, and this was the only option.

“I suppose,” I admitted. “I guess you could even say that everyone wins in the end.”

“That’s the spirit,” Gilda encouraged, flashing me a proud smile whilst delivering a pat to my shoulder. “No one loses out and, as you keep telling me, it can only get us all a better future. Besides,” she continued with a dark chuckle, “it should give Celestia a good bloody nose when everyone hears about how her school was burgled so easily.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. “Gilda, you always know how to—.”

“Shhhh!”

Without any warning, Gilda’s head jerked to the side, startling me in my nervous state. Motioning me to stop, she pressed a finger to her beak, to which I nodded in understanding. As she took a few cautious steps forward, I couldn’t help but be reminded of a lioness stalking her prey. It was funny, I mused to myself, the first time I had met her I had for all intents and purposes been struck dumb with a mix of fear and awe. However, now a short time later I was exchanging friendly banter and teasing.

Pressing herself against a corner, she peered around it, remaining so still as she did so that she could almost have been mistaken for a statue if not for the rhythmic movement of her chest as she breathed.

“Do you hear anything?” she asked, not even moving a single inch, so quiet that I almost missed it.

I shook my head, before I realised how stupid that was.

“No,” I whispered back, glad that she didn’t see me and so was safe from the inevitable joking that would have resulted.

She relaxed immediately, dropping her stance and making her way back over to my side.

“What was that?” I asked, more confused than nervous by that point.

“Nothing,” she replied, shrugging. “Thought I heard something down that that alleyway, though if you didn’t hear anything then it was probably just my imagination.

“You’re willing to take my senses over yours?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her. I was somewhat confused, Gilda didn’t strike me as the sort of person to do that sort of thing.

“Do you see any ears on me?” She gestured to where I could only guess her ear holes were located beneath her feathers. “Ponies got the heads up in the ear department, griffons got the eyes.”

“I’m not a pony,” I sorely reminded her.

“You still have the ears of one,” she pointed out, giving one of mine a gentle flick for emphasis. I had to concede that point.

We lapsed into silence for a couple more blocks, though as we rounded a corner, Gilda once again spoke.

“So...” she trailed off and it also for a second seemed like she wasn’t going to continue. “Is there any particular reason why you haven’t bothered taking your bandages off yet?”

The question itself sounded innocent enough, just one friend trying to distract another with some harmless small talk. That being said, Gilda was hardly the type to do something like that, more likely she wanted it to come off as that in the hope that it would disguise the more pointed nature of her query.

“No reason.” I decided to shrug despite her head not being turned to face me. I could see her looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “I just thought that it would be better to keep them on for disguise’s sake. After all, bandages can be thrown away if I need to, a mass of scars where a cutie mark should be would undoubtedly stick out it anyone’s mind and alert them straight away.”

“Bullshit,” she shot back, her voice regaining its hard tone. “Don’t lie to me with stuff like that. I know your type, eager to cover up the truth by using logic to hide why you really do something.”

Her narrowed eyes seemed to bore directly into me, cutting deep into my core. I stubbornly tried to fight her glare with one of my own, but the piercing gaze she held on me seemed to touch upon a hidden fear. It dug up uncomfortable feelings, and I had to look away from her in defeat.

“It’s just that for as long as I keep these things on and don’t look, then I don’t need to worry about it. I don’t know, I mean...” I trailed off for a second, struggling to find some combination of words that I could use to explain myself. “My cutie mark is gone right now, but I’m scared that if I look at what’s left it might break the equilibrium that it’s under right now. With what we had to go through last time, I don’t want either of us to have to break those chains again.”

Gilda scoffed, rolling her eyes in such a way that I couldn’t help but glare at her. “That’s just stupid. It’s not coming back and no amount of seeing or doing is going to change that.”

“I know it’s irrational, Gilda,” I said with a heavy sigh. My voice suddenly sounded small and weak as I added, “but the power that little patch of fur held over me terrifies me. I can’t lie to myself about how scared I am.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” she said, trying to sound upbeat, though the strain in her voice ruined the effect somewhat. “Tomorrow we’ll go and take them off together.”

She delivered a punch to my shoulder that from anyone else I would have considered rough, though from Gilda I could tell she was trying to be gentle. She flashed me a cocky grin as we moved on.

“Ancestors, I’ll even hold your hoof and kiss your boo-boo better if it gets you to do it,” she said, mockingly.

“Thanks, mommy,” I dryly replied.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t love it,” she shot back.

Though I hid it with my tone of voice, I really was grateful for her devil-may-care attitude, it gave me a confidence about things that I had always been missing in my life. I supposed that it must have just been something about her, after all if someone like my mum could undermine confidence by being so nitpicky with the details it was only logical that someone could be the complete opposite.

It no longer hurt so much to think about my family, indeed I had been so busy that they had hardly crossed my thoughts. Though it made me guilty at almost forgetting about them, I forced the unbidden thought down nevertheless. Better to not tempt fate.

As we continued on our way, I spotted a dark figure near the end of the street. The doorway they stood in hid their features to such an extent that I couldn’t even tell what species they were. They were so well hidden that the only thing that gave them away was the wooden cart that was parked right next to them, it being so out of place on the otherwise deserted street that it drew the eyes towards it.

I was fairly certain that Gilda had also caught sight of the mysterious bystander, if her earlier comparisons between griffon and pony eyes were anything to go by.

As we drew closer, Gilda didn’t seem to make any outwards reaction to the figure, and so once again, I decided to follow her lead.

As we drew closer, I was able to pick out some rough details. Though that proved to be of little help, as all I was able to gain from that was that they were wearing a hooded black cloak that hid their features.

When we were only a couple of meters away from the figure, Gilda abruptly adjusted her path to directly intercept the stranger.

By then, I was incredibly nervous and slightly annoyed. I could feel sweat running down my sides and my breathing was slightly strained. Rationally, I was thinking that Gilda was playing me, though another, less logical part still couldn’t help but be nervous.

When the hood swung around revealing glittering green eyes and a yellow beak that immediately split into a wide grin, I let out a relieved sigh before I could even hope to stop myself. It was undoubtable at such a close distance that he was a griffon, though I could hardly be blamed for not being able to tell that soon. The griffon’s black cloak was matched by coal-colored feathers that smoothy ran into a coat that I could only describe as being gunmetal grey. The way the coloration and choice of attire melded into the night, the griffon seemed more to resemble a shadow than a living creature.

“Brute,” Gilda said with a wide grin, though I couldn’t be sure if it was one of welcoming to the griffon or one of glee at my reaction. “Good to see that you actually turned up.”

“Of course I was going to show up,” the evidently male griffon replied, sounding slightly hurt at the suggestion that he might not. “I owed you.”

“Now don’t be like that Brute,” Gilda replied, her voice still jovial despite the low volume. “I’m only playing.”

“Yeah yeah,” Brute grumbled, though I could see the humour in his eyes, “would it hurt you to just be grateful for once.”

As he pulling his hood off, his eyes flicked over to me, widened slightly in recognition. When he spoke again his voice was somewhere between surprise and worry.“Gilda, is this who I think it is?”

Gilda let out a chuckle. “Depends who you think it is. Brute, meet J—,” she started by saying my real name, sending a jolt of panic through me, before she seemed to realise her mistake in a split second and transitioned it as smoothly as she possibly could. “—Righteous Flame. Righteous Flame, meet Brutus, an old friend of mine.”

At his name I couldn’t help but grin slightly at the irony. Only I would somehow manage to meet someone in a totally alien world that held the name that belonged to the family whose members drove the king out of Rome and slew a tyrant on the senate floor.

“A pleasure,” I said, sticking my hoof out with the intent for him to shake it.

For a second he looked at it searchingly, as if he was trying to discover some hidden meaning or significance to the gesture. Thankfully, he accepted it just before things began to cross over to awkwardness, though even then it was done carefully and slowly. I noticed that his claws were also filled down in much the same manner as Gildas, though my newly acquired knowledge reduced it from the shock it had been a few days ago to dull comprehension.

“I saw your speech the other day,” he offered me by way of an explanation for his delay. It didn’t escape my notice that his posture seemed to have taken on an overall more guarded quality and that his words came out slower and more cautious than when he had been talking to Gilda. It also seemed to me that the griffoness was leaving herself carefully out of the conversation, standing off to the side from both of us, having taken up the unofficial task of sentry as she ran a slow gaze over the street and windows.

“I see,” I replied, retracting my hoof from his grasp as I felt it loosen. “How did you find it?”

I was almost reluctant to ask him that question and I was already half regretting it as Brutus seemed to mull things over, his claw drumming out a fast rhythm on the cobblestone that made an uncontrollable part of me flash with jealousy and bitterness.

“It was... interesting,” he finally said. “I admit that I was never expecting to see something like what you pulled off when you started spouting off to the crowd. You’ve caused quite the sensation, every griffon that I’ve talked to since then seems to bring you up.”

“Did you bring the stuff?” Gilda interjected before I got a chance to reply to Brutus’ elusive answer.

“Sure,” Brutus replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s in the cart.”

Swiftly, Gilda made her way over to the cart and peered in eagerly. From where she was standing I couldn’t see her expression but the way that she leaned forward eagerly made me curious.

Brushing my way past Brutus, who took a step back as I passed near him, I made my way over to the cart.

Once I was alongside Gilda I made to look myself, but before I could, something hit my face and wrapped around it, leaving nothing but black in my vision.

Jerking my head back, I let out a strangled cry and fell back on my haunches. Ignoring the stinging sensation in my backside, I whipped my freed forelegs up and scrambled to get a grip on whatever it was that had attacked me.

“Ancestors, calm down,” I heard Gilda say off to my side. “It’s just a joke.”

I felt something, a claw, wrap around my attacker, which seemed to be oddly soft, and pulled it off me with one sharp tug.

Taking in a deep breath, I turned to look at whatever it was that Gilda had saved me from. All that I saw was what looked like a dyed black cotton sheet, clutched tightly in Gilda’s right claw before she threw it back into the cart.

The smirk that I saw on Gilda face was enough for me to fix her with a withering glare.

“Very amusing,” I said coldly, “Good to see that you’re taking things so seriously.”

“I am,” Gilda replied, sounding somewhat haughty herself, “I’m just trying to get you to relax. Being all wound up and stressed isn’t going to help you keep a cool head, they’re the types of things that have you making stupid mistakes and getting caught.”

“So what exactly about that was going—”

A short, low whistle interrupted us.

Turning to look where it emanated from, Brutus had return to leaning up against the side of the building, a half smile on his face. “Such a nice coltfriend you have there Gilda. Oohh, and handsome too.”

“Shut up Brute,” Gilda shot at him, turning her glare onto him. “Now’s not the time for your bull.”

“Hey,” Brutus replied, lifting his two claws up in a placating gesture, though the mischievous grin ruined its intention. “I call it like I see it. It’s not my fault that you’re embarrassed about it.”

The sheer ridiculous of the situation helped to relax the tension that was in the air and I couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle.

Unfortunately, this prompted Gilda to turn her angry gaze back at me, the outrage coming off it in such great waves that I had to suppress my first reaction to take a step backwards.

“Look I’m sorry Gilda,” I said, seizing the opportunity before Gilda started another, no doubt, venomous exchange.

Gently, I put a hoof on her shoulder, stretching forwards slightly so that I looked up at her. “I’m stressed. I admit that. I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m scared that we’re going to get caught before things even get off the ground. I get what you’re trying to do for me Gilda, but it just isn’t working. I need you with me on this but I also need you to go easy on me, just for tonight.”

At first Gilda seemed to look slightly taken aback, almost crestfallen that I had stepped down from the confrontation. In the silence that encapsulated the pause, she raised up one of her claws and balled it into a fist. I had no doubt that to anyone else it would have looked like she was going to strike me. However, I could see it trembling slightly, and it seemed to be clenched so tightly that, for once, it was lucky that her claws were blunt.

Shutting her eyes, she took a deep calming breath and gradually relaxed her stance, making it appear less and less like she was crouching in preparation to pounce.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry too. I’ll ease off on the jokes.”

I thought that labelling them as jokes was a touch generous, though I decided to keep that to myself.

She raised up her right claw again, though this time even though it was clenched the knuckles were pointing towards me. “We’ve still got each other’s tails though, right?”

I did not realise straight away what she wanted me to do, though when I did I quickly tapped my hoof against her claw in what I assumed was an approximation of a fist bump.

Turning back to the cart, she quickly fished around it in for a few moments before seeming to lift up something with her two claws. Whipping it back over her head, the black cloth seemed to unfurl like a sail, coming to rest against her back whilst hanging down to rest a half dozen inches above the ground. After thrusting her head through a hole that seemed to exist in the fabric, she gave her body a brief shake, making the cloth settle around her in the unmistakable fashion of a cloak practically identical to the one Brutus wore.

Next she gathered up another bundle of black cloth and turned towards me. For a moment her muscles tensed as if she was going to throw it at me again, before she seemed to check herself and took a few steps forward.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the cloak towards me. “Should help us all to blend into the shadows a bit better.”

Sitting my rump down on the cold, wet stone ground, I took the cloak into my own arms. Holding it out before me, it unravelled itself easily. As it did, a few scraps of it seemed to detach itself from the overall mass and float down to the ground. Swiftly, before I could even get a clear look at them, Gilda swooped them up and threw them back into the cart.

I quirked a curious eyebrow at her.

“Later,” she said, to which I gave a shrug of acceptance. I needed to entrust her with just a portion of the faith that she had shown in me.

Mirroring as best I could the same motions that Gilda had demonstrated, I threw the cloak over my head and settled it around my shoulders. Surprisingly, as the fabric settled around me, which was far lighter than I was expecting, I felt a part of me relax. I had almost forgotten about my nudity—indeed I had forced myself in the fact of much greater trials—it still seemed that my taboo against it was still unconsciously ingrained. Even aside from that the warm fabric helped to insulate me against the chill in the air.

“Y’know,” Gilda said as I was experiment with moving with the cloak. “I hope this doesn’t mean that I need to wear the kid gloves for you all the time because I mean it when I say that I won’t be able to keep it up”

“Trust me Gilda,” I replied, giving her a rueful smirk. “After tonight I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Err... I do hate to interrupt the love-in,” Brutus suddenly said, for the first time speaking to me in what wasn’t a carefully picked monotone.

“You’re right, you’re right,” I quickly conceded, halting things before they could spark Gilda’s tempter or embarrass me. ”Time’s moving and we still have things to get done.”

“Agreed,” Gilda said, taking a step towards Brutus so that she was an equal distance from both of us.

“Okay then,” Brutus said, pushing himself off from the wall to stand closer to me. “How do you want to take this?”

That was certainly an interesting question. I had left most of the planning up to Gilda in this regard, she having far greater experience than me in shady dealings. I myself was kept busy with checking around the city for any other, less dangerous, means that we could acquire what we needed that we both may have missed in our initial search. The only real area where I had contributed to the plan was general reconnaissance.

“I’ll stay ahead of the cart by about half a block and keep an eye out for anyone coming our way,” Gilda replied. “Brute, you stay next to the cart and keep an eye out for anything that I may of missed. Righteous, you’re going to pull the cart.”

I felt a flair of annoyance within me at being a glorified pack horse, but I forced it down. For the night I would need to make sacrifices to be a team player in much the same way Gilda had.

“Fine, help me to hitch up,” I quickly said, wanting to get it over and done with before I could reflect on it too much.

With a bit of finessing, the griffons managed to get the harness around my stomach. It was tight, almost painfully so, but I couldn’t risk it pulling down my bandages so I bore it without complaint.

“Thanks,” Gilda softly said to me as she checked for one last time that the buckle was secure. I didn’t know whether it was the way she said it or the look that she gave me but I knew that she understood the gravity of what she had asked of me. Her eyes captivated me in such a way that I couldn’t help but be drawn into them, losing myself in them as we shared an understanding.

“Alright, let’s get moving,” Gilda suddenly spoke, addressing both Brutus and myself, breaking her eyes away from mine. For a second I was left floundering, a fish out of water, but nevertheless I recovered quickly and dismissed that strange moment.

Striding ahead, Gilda took an easy lead. I myself was left waiting behind with Brutus at my side.

“That should be a good enough distance,” Brutus said to me.

Giving him a nod, I bunched up my muscles and gathered all of my strength in preparation of moving the cart forward. Unfortunately, I had misjudged the weight of what I was pulling, it being far lighter than I had originally anticipated. I lurched forward in a single burst of movement, though that left me as the readily followed me, causing me to overbalance and stumble forward, only managing to regain my footing at the last second, just as the ground was lurching up to greet me.

Seeking to maintain what was left of my dignity I pressed forward with my head held high. Thankfully Brutus held his tongue and silence reigned between us for a while before I decided to break the ice.

“Thanks for what you did back there,” I whispered quietly to Brutus, hopeful that our distance from Gilda would allow for what I was going to say to remain between us.

“What do you mean?” he replied, his tone of voice carefully neutral and his eyes straight ahead. However, he did seem to pick up on my desire for privacy as he made to lessen the distance between us as well as shifting his head so that it was inclined towards me.

“Taking the heat off me and giving me the chance to sort things out.”

“What makes you think I did that?” he asked, his tone still not betraying anything on what he was thinking or even if what I was saying was true.

I scoffed slightly. “I’ve only known Gilda for a short time but I do know that if you can avoid being the focal point of her temper then you do it. Anyway, thanks. Without you, then the whole night could have ended in disaster before its really begun.”

We walked in silence for the remainder of the way.

Brutus worried me slightly. It was painfully obvious to me that Gilda and I had hardly portrayed the most professional of operations so far that night. Indeed, if I was in his position I wouldn’t have hung around. However, the griffon had not expressed even a hint of doubt, and that meant one of two things. The first was that he was an idiot, though after the way that he had manipulated my argument with Gilda, that did not seem likely. The other made for a far more interesting prospect, that he was fiercely loyal. If that was indeed the case, then the potential for him to a great boon to the revolution was present. However, the one issue with his loyalty was that it masked from me his true opinions on what I was preaching.

“Take it slow from here,” I heard Gilda’s voice drift over to both of us, breaking me away from my thoughts. “The square in front of the school is just around the corner.”

“Damn it,” Gilda cursed, ducking back from the corner.

“What’s the problem?” Brutus asked calmly, not betraying a hint of nervousness or worry at the unknown turn of events.

“The Lunar Guard are on duty.”