I Am Not Spartacus -Though Embattled We Are
by Dan's Comments
Based in the 'Your Human and You' universe by MadMaxtheBlack
This story is NOT canon with Your Human and You

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

I am becoming ever more convinced that ponies are fundamentally insane. Pink has brought me to another human show. Okay, that's not the nutso part. The meeting with Lady Horn Swoggle was not the nutso part, of course me 'listing' as I stood behind Pink was a scream, as obsessive compulsive and sneering don't go well together. She kept twisting her head one way, and then straightening up, as if she couldn't figure how I was leaning to the side on flat ground. That wasn't nutso, that was just fun.

No, the nutso part is the judges nearly getting into a hoof fight over the interpretation of the rules. It's a damn pet show, either agree to disagree, or refer the matter to a higher authority. I'm beginning to suspect that Pink is enjoying setting off these little tiffs, and then using her power to calm them down.

The Mighty Poof is here, with a collection of humans. I watch him closely, and realize that the 'shady-characters' he's been hanging out with are breeders who've fallen on hard times and are accepting his patronage, to raise humans 'the Blueblood way', i.e., how Pink has been treating me: as a critter with feelings and desires. He was never 'cheating' as people thought, even me I'm ashamed to say. His humans excelled because they honestly wanted to please him. 'Happy pony means happy Percy' only applied to the native humans.

Of course he takes Pink to task about a few things in her methods. And she gets sore, but he tells us before the actual judging. My reaction is that when a blue-ribbon winner tells you trade secrets, you shut up and listen. Pink, to her credit, puts aside the bile about who told her, and considers what he told her.

It makes for fewer arguments among judges, which spoils the fun, but we do move up substantially in the rankings. The Mighty Poof didn't tell us these tips to give us a chance to challenge him, this is a conformal show, and I am so far out of the accepted ranges for Guard and Service class, that I need to make huge strides in the performance section of those categories to even have a chance.

The Mighty Poof's humans do their usual spectacular job, they are everything the judges want, and I note they are highly motivated to improve. When I perform an event, the Mighty Poof and his humans watch intently. They'll never match my performance in a million years, but they are experts in how to win these contests. As I said, when a blue-ribbon winner is showing you the tricks of the trade, you shut up and listen.

The second day is where the trouble starts. The Ponies for the Humane treatment of Humans, or PHH, show up. They aren't overturning tables, or attacking ponies. They are casually walking around, especially where the fillies and colts are working with humans, and setting off loud noises and acting just as shocked as everyone else. A sharp horn blast, a loud bang, or other, and the humans would start and have to be calmed down. Basically, they were ruining the experience for the kids, probably intentionally so the kids wouldn't want to continue. Or because if they did that crap to the adults, the adults would pound the snot out of them.

I'm vastly more inclined to believe the latter than the former. I never saw one of those punks in the fighting circuits, because they aren't brave enough to risk getting into trouble their daddy and mommy's money and lawyers can't get them out of. Like all the 'Human Rights Groups' who'd say not a word about Red China or the Soviet Union, because if they investigated in there, they'd wind up dead. I have no respect for them, or these ponies who are out 'doing good' by ruining a few other ponies' days, without addressing the real problem.

They don't even try with the Guard classes. For fear the owners will set their guard-humans on them.

Through it all, Blueblood and his team photograph them. He and his humans seem to always have a camera pointed in the right direction. I understand the tactic. Lord Skyscraper Nose is trying to get some rules change at the club, and the Mighty Poof throws out 'wasn't your son/daughter the one who disrupted that human show, speaks very poorly of your breeding and discipline.' I'm guessing, but the blackmail potential for social embarrassment is just too great.

The third day shows the scoring, giving me another solid fourth in both Guard and Service classes, no medal, but a ribbon, and much happiness for Pink. In the classes he entered, which is nearly all of them, the Mighty Poof usually medaled twice, and often got a ribbon as well for his humans. Say what you want, his humans deserved it, and so did he.
------------------------------

Back in the apartment, Pink is fuming a little. "I can't believe they marked him down for the shape of his teeth," she says as she paces, " 'Clearly artificial and in extremely bad taste.'"

Armor and I glance at each other, and when she swings around, both of us grab her and haul her onto the couch like a net full of fish. Armor drags her into a hug, I start giving her a back rub.

"NO fair! I wanted to be mad!" she complains.

"Yes, dear, I understand dear," Armor says in a monotone, and nibbles at the base of her horn.

Oh, they grow up so fast, and learn so quickly. Soon, instead of all of her aflutter, only her eyelids are. "No fair," she says as she snuggles in Armor's lap.

Armor and I exchange another glance, and continue with what we're doing until she's half-sleep.

"You and Percy should be proud of how well you did," he tells her as he rubs his horn on hers, "Even with all the marks against you, you more than made up for them where he, and you, could shine."

"I wanted to beat him," Pink says as she sighs and rubs back.

"Blueblood's been at this since he was a kid and started medaling before he got his cutie-mark. You're up against a seasoned expert my dear, and you aren't going to leap ahead of him no matter the natural talent of your human," Armor says.

Pink grumps, but seems quiescent.
------------------------------

With Little Blue occupying our former love nest, arranging a time with the Great White is difficult. Her boudoir is one in layout only, an office, bedroom and dressing room. Similar to the first floor of Little Blue's suite. The austerity of the place makes me think of Patton, rather than Madame Pompadour. The bed is a pile of cushions around a padded mat. On seeing it, I first thought of the Shogun at Versailles. The sheer number of pillows gives me an idea for later. It's the last piece of 'furniture' that make it a 'later' idea.

All the clues which had faithfully served to let me differentiate mares from stallions fell apart when applied to the two, massive guards stationed in the Great White's room. They were as big as the apple stallion, but more graceful, but that's just the difference between a welterweight boxer and a heavyweight wrestler. Their features were effeminate, but not distinctly feminine. Not a muscle moved on them as I walked in, except the eyes. They tracked me the entire time.

I can't help it, I did a fairly decent soft shoe routine and a couple of cartwheels.

"Yes, they are alive," the Great White says after she snorts in amusement. "And they'll be here to guard me from you."

I look from her to them and back. I get the distinct impression someone is being trolled.

My expression makes the Great White giggle. Then she cast her spells. She appears in her human form, and I as her alicorn. The first crack in the guards' stoic mein appears. The Great White's craftsmanship is clear.

I face them. Both are sweating slightly. "Hello. Ce-lestia and Percy . . . play. Loud play, maybe looks like hurts, but is not. Looks like danger, smells like danger, but is not." I glance at the Great White.

"Go on," she tells me, "You're doing fine."

A talking human shocks the guards a bit, but they rally. I do notice they're breathing heavily. Maybe it isn't the 'talking' part that's got them hot and bothered.

"The Gr - Cel-estia likes to play," I say then cower and whimper and shy, "So Percy very scary for her."

"Safe - word," one of the guards gets out, it sound like she's being strangled. She's starting to do a subdued version of the excited pony-dance, one knee flexing at a time.

"What a wonderful idea," the Great White says, "If I am really in trouble I say something like 'candle wax'."

"If you not like Percy, you beat him on walls until grease stain," I say in my most confused tone.

The Great White giggles and gives the guard a kiss. A long, sensuous kiss. Then I give her one, and her ears rise so firmly, it lifts her helmet. I realize they must be Earth Ponies, because the way they're blushing, if they were pegasi, their wings would be bursting out of their armor.

"What first?" the Great White asks, finger on her chin as she muses. That she's staring at the guards make them especially nervous.

I snort loudly. "Begging for mercy!" I catch her up in my mane, and she tries the 'wrestle' her hair against mine. Hey, if the guards want to be furniture, they're furniture.

I give her a belly buzzer as strands of my mane tickle all her most sensitive spots and soon the absolute ruler of Equestria has been reduced to a squealing, begging mess. And while anyone with eyes could see alicorn-Percy is just as excited, I'm not using that monster on the Great White. Not when the alicorn tongue is a lot more nimble. She cries out as I wriggle inside her, probing and touching, while my upper lip massages her clitoris.

A college girlfriend once told me women are like semiconductors, large energy gap to overcome at first, then thousands of discrete levels of excitation/deexcitation. I never could figure out if it was her theory, or a bit of nerd, post-coital pillow talk, we shared a circuit design class and she was majoring in chemistry. I do know we tried it out after finals and by switching out lips and tongue and fingers, I managed to keep her in the 'excited' state for about two hours of excitation/deexcitation.

That's pretty much my goal here. The Great White has been getting these Grand Mal orgasms, or like the little ones when I gave her the rubdown. I'm going for something in the middle. I find her G-spot and rub that to climax, then work on her clitoris, then slowly work both. Then tickling and stroking. It's plain-vanilla stuff we've done before, but by pacing myself, alicorn stamina, and letting myself get an incredible case of blue balls, I'm able to keep it up for about an hour and a half, until the Great White resumes her alicorn form.

"You nearly wore me out," she chides, still blushing nearly pink as she rubs her horn on mine. "That's not fair to Percy. He might take both guards, and where would he be then? All alone and bored."

The guards have a distinctly frazzled look, as Armor has described his sister getting.

"You can let Percy decide what is unfair to Percy," I reply, "There a word, for giving free what another would pay the whole world."

"Arbitrage?" the Great White says.

"Love," I tell her as I put my hooves gently on her cheeks, "I love to watch you happy. Pink and the Great White only ponies who I know don't mean fighting and maybe dying tomorrow. Is worth all in the world to Percy."

"Oh Percy," she says, tears streaming down her cheeks, before she enfolds me in an 'alicorn hug': forelegs, wings, mane and tail. The guards look like they want to join in. Then return to being the 'Queen's Guard'.

After a few moments we break.

"Well, if it is that important to you," she offers, "I shall not deny you."

I bow, as my mane comes in from the flanks. But I don't actually touch her, just wiggle the mane near her where she can see it. The Great White squeals and flinches and I make another ostentatious show from another direction. Soon, she writhing and shrieking on the bed, with me barely touching her, just enough she knows I made contact.

You have fallen to the ancient art of Zen Tickling, and I have a black feather boa in the art. Once or twice the Great White tries to rally. She's most successful when she duplicates the 'hornjob' gripping my horn in her mouth and running her lips and tongue over it. If I'd had it charged, that would have been it. But uncharged it just felt really good.

No wonder I could defeat the Purple Menace, if that's what it feels like with no resonance, I can't imagine what I put the Purple Menace and the Great White through. Entirely pleasurable, but mind blowing.

This time it's two and a half hours, alicorn stamina, and pain tolerance, is nothing to sneeze at. Our stamina, my pain tolerance, not blowing my load has been getting progressively more difficult, moving into real pain on occasion. I am getting the sneaking suspicion that this is partially a bit of punishment for the guards. When I've had a moment to notice, they've alternated among lustful, pained, terrified, and flabbergasted. If the Great White wants performance art, I can do that. It's not like I'm that interested in mares, but when I'm a horse-shape too, I can easily see how she would attract the eye (and other parts).

The Great White notices my excitement as she cools down after a particularly intense period. "Percy," she says, "Why don't you, uh, shoot? That's - that can't be comfortable." She reaches up with a hoof and I shy away.

"Ah," I reply a little shamefully, "Percy is only good for once, then, all sleepy." I mime going to sleep. It's the truth. My fiance joked she could give me a handjob, then a root canal, and I wouldn't wake up. I don't think she ever tried it, but then I wouldn't have been awake. She did do exactly that when my leg was in a cast and the itching was driving me crazy. Another reason I loved that girl.

The Great White grins. "Then maybe a little cuddling after," she says, "Maybe a little more familiar setting." And both of us are human. Her mane still curls and touches me here and there as her arms gather me in and lay me down on the bed.

Without the alicorn stamina, the exertions of what I've done take the wind out of my sails. She's barely settled her self across my hips and begins bobbing up and down when I blow. She chuckles. "You were trying so hard," she says as she gathers me in. I want to hold her for a while, but exhaustion is pushing me to sleep.
------------------------------

The bed has changed, as have the sheets and that I am in it by myself. Proof of what I knew that after sex, I can sleep through anything, but a little unsettling nonetheless. In the background, I hear Pink and the 'Four Corners' talking with someone. I run my hand over my hair, and stop to examine one of the myriad ribbons tied into my short hair.

Someone is a comedian. The problem is, there are too many possible candidates. I rise, and realize I was washed and redressed. Heck with it. I leave my room and proceed to the bathroom. The two, very large mares with the other five are staring worriedly at me. The others keep up their friendly chatter. Despite their color, I think I've seen the big ones before. As I'm emptying my bladder, I realize they were the two guards looking out for the Great White, and how utterly astonished they looked. I head out to Pink and the other guards.

She's desperately trying not to laugh at all the bows in my hair. The two guards are staring at a different place. The 'Four Corners' are enjoying the travails of the others.

"Have you . . . ?" one of the newcomers asks of Pink and nods in the direction of interest.

"Oh no," Pink says and sips her tea, "He seems so comfortable with her Highness, and I wouldn't want to interfere."

The guards nod but still shoot worried glances at me. I'm tempted to grin at them.

"That and they are so rough, I think I'd get hurt," Pink adds, causing both newcomers to choke. "I think their first 'date' was him defending Armor and me from Celestia. He didn't know who she was, but I think her Highness got rather . . . excited by him desperately trying to beat her up."

The guards are irritated, disbelieving and nervous all at once. They stare at the alicorn gently sipping her tea. The 'Four Corners' are just smiling and nodding in agreement.

"But four hours!" one of them says, "I watched, and even I can't believe it's possible."

"He's very clever," Left Front says, "Probably thought it was a challenge."

The other newcomer just whimpers.
------------------------------

The next few days are kind of idyllic, practice with Pink and the Great White, then cello practice with Octavia. Cooking dinner occasionally, as Parasol is off on a date with Dust Bunny. If only the neighbors would behave. The squeal of terror from the occasional chambermaid who decided to go in and clean was one thing, but when Philomena tries to deliver a tray of treats to Little Blue, no doubt selected by the Great White herself, the phoenix wound up wearing a good portion of them.

The bird stands there on a statue in the hallway, shaking with rage, the icing and sauces slowly charring and falling away. She glares at a pony who approaches her. The maid scurries away, but I'm made of sterner stuff. Philomena flares her wings and lets out a sharp raptor cry, and I stare at her.

She settles and stares at the door. She's cooled off enough I can pet her head without a potholder. She sighs and chirps angrily. I carry her on my shoulder into the apartment. In the living room is a catalog of china. I indicate that the factory is close, and I also know that where there's a factory, there is a way to buy seconds and rejects.

The bird grins as she gets the same message and planning to deliver the bulletin. We part with a hand/wing shake.
------------------------------

It's a mere two days later when Philomena returns, carrying a flier. Special sale on Seconds and Discontinued Patterns. That morning, a maid had fled Little Blue's suite, with an angry denial of need in pursuit, and a bowl of hot porridge in even hotter pursuit. The two of us silently agree that now is the time to act.

The factory second's store is an open tent adjacent to the factory. There's a lot of the stuff, and not many customers. The proprietor bustles over to shoo us out, and gets a pat on the head. I look at the page we cribbed together and follow the script by acting out following our 'script'. The proprietor extends a hoof after a few moments of charades and decides to read the instructions herself. We left notes that would translate into the ponies' written language about buying 'pretty' patterns. The proprietor gleefully rubs her hooves and gestures us forward. There, carefully packed in barrels has got to be one of the most god-awful, sickeningly-cute china patterns in the history of porcelain. On Earth, making a prisoner use these would be a war crime, they are too nauseatingly saccharine even for ponies. Five entire barrels of them.

The proprietor wants an unconscionable number of bits for them. I offer a fifth. The histrionics don't work, but she doesn't toss us out. Frankly, the barrels are good-make, and are work a few bits on their own, but that's not what we're here for. We settle on about a third of the original asking price. I'm glad I still have the wagon, because otherwise, hauling those barrels would be tedious beyond words. Additional help arrives in the form of those two guard mares I terrified. Neither is in armor, so their natural color appears. One is off-white with a gray mane, and the other a light brown with an off-white mane. Both are Earth Ponies and both are amused by my pathetic efforts to keep the heavily-laden wagon moving at any decent speed.

Neither Philomena nor I are eager to reveal the joke to them, but there is no way to evade them without abandoning the cargo we worked to obtain. In the end, they hoist me into the driver's seat and slip into the harnesses.

Oh the stares we get as we head down a Canterlot street with an arrangement not out of place in any Western, but 'completely unparalleled in Canterlot history' claims a fainting matron or yuppie twit. As an added joke, I leave Philomena with the reins as I ride along, acting in every way like a Canterlot noble: eyes closed, nose in the air. Fortunately, the guards think it's hilarious, at first at least. Finally, we approach the loading dock.

" 'It's nothing I wouldn't expect from Earth Ponies'," one of the guards says in a growl, "Do they march their humans everywhere?"

"It's not like we wouldn't know where to drive the wagon," the other adds. Both are quite angry at the assumption that I had the highest intellect of the quartet. It might be true, but they don't like the idea one bit.

Unloading the barrels into a water or magic powered freight elevator yields another tidbit.

"You know Celestia 'requested' us because of your comment," Gray Mane tells Brownie.

"All I said was she needed a stallion, bad," Brownie says in a whisper, and looks around worriedly, ignoring that the Great White's master spy is practically perched on her.

They look at me and shiver slightly. "Oh he's bad all right, so bad it goes through the other side and comes out unbelievable. Four hours, four buckin' hours, longest any stallion I went with was ten minutes. Most mares can't keep it up for more then half-an-hour. Four horn-buckin' hours."

"And he only stopped because she asked him to," Brownie says, "Can you imagine what he woulda done if she hadn't?"

"Sunrise would've been late?" Gray Mane says, and chuckles nervously.

They continue their conversation as Philomena and I ascend in the elevator with our 'present'. I already stashed the 1" x 4"s, the hammer and nails near the unload point. Philomena is also stifling the giggles at the two artlessly jabbering around and about us. As if we couldn't possibly understand.

The corridor is as empty as it usually is. I manhandle the barrels to the door to the demon's lair. Once I've gotten the planks and the tools in place, Philomena gives me a salute, and flies off.

Coward, traitor! Feather duster!

Time to beard the lioness in her den.

Getting the first couple barrels inside doesn't wake Sleeping Nasty, the fourth one causes shouts I mentally translate from Teen-ager into 'I want to wallow in my angst, it's the only thing that understands me'. The fifth barrel heralds the arrival of Little Blue in high dudgeon with Sturm and Drang in close support.

"WE INFORMED THEE, WE WERE NOT TO BE DISTURBED!" she ILLUMINATES me, then realizes she's telling a human, who plainly doesn't care. She face hooves and then gets in my face. "OUT, NOW!"

I close the door and mime taking out earplugs, and stare at her. She's furious that I'm not intimidated. She's probably pretty dangerous, but she's so little and cute, it really spoils the whole 'I'm ferocious' act she's trying to manage. Besides, I've had people try to kill me for five years, an angry, teenaged brat doesn't measure up.

"I figured that since you're being such a brat, I'd get you plenty of breakables so you could indulge yourself and then roll in the splintered shards so you could prove to yourself that 'nopony loves me, everypony hates me, I'm gonna a steak and die!'" I tell her, she falls on her backside with her mouth hanging open, "Your apartment is grander than your big sister's and you have decided to lock yourself in here, no one else has. You want to be ignored, fine, I'll nail it shut from the inside and cut a slot in the door so they can pass food to you occasionally. I can jump out the window to get away. Your sister loves you, but she doesn't know what you need unless you tell her or show her, or you can just assume she's ignoring you. Ponies aren't afraid of you, they don't have the faintest idea who you are anymore. Except you're Celestia's sister, and you behave worse than the worst Canterlot noble in the pack. Little Blue is the perfect name for you. You don't want to live, you want to marinate in your angst and take out the effects of your cowardice on anyone who tries to interact with you."

Her eyes have been getting wider and wider, and she's put her forehoof over her mouth. I suspect she's never encountered a talking human, or anyone willing to read her the riot act. It's a bit harsh, but I'm in a role, the court jester who speaks the truth. "You want to smite me, fine. I've had worse. You had a hard life, fine, so did your sister, and so have I. It doesn't make you special that you suffered. It only makes you special if you overcame it. A fish facing a bear suffers, no one cares because it happens all the time. You want someone to recognize you as special, do something to deserve it."

Time for a little molasses with the sulfur. "And then accept that they may not show their appreciation the way you want. They didn't appreciate your beautiful nights. They were sleeping! They were at their most vulnerable when you were in charge. They put themselves and the families entirely in your hooves on just your word that they'd be safe. After the Three Kingdoms War, after the Windingos, after Discord? What better proof that they trusted and loved you that to sleep under your aegis? And if you remember one word I told Nightmare, then remember they made tools and raised their crops under Celestia's light. They made love and sired more ponies under yours."

Maybe I was hard on her, but she needs to acknowledge that not everything is about her. Then she can grow up and get beyond what she did.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" she says as she pronks around me in a circle. Then she pronks in place, spinning around.

Okay, someone else got a different script than I did.

She's crouched down, ready to spring, I swear to God, her tail is wagging. She reminds me of a terrier just waiting for a lap to form so she can spring into it. I don't know if I'm being Gaslighted, or if she's that much of a split personality. She seems to grow confused when I give her a flat stare.

Then she grins. "Thou werest in fact taking us to task about how we werest affecting our sister's joie de vivre," she says happily as she pronks up and down, "Thou dost truly love our sister. Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Definitely a different script. "Did you hear what I had to say?" I ask.

Brother, when a guaranteed-to-work trick fails, it doesn't do it half way.

"We are not deaf," she replies, settling and sobering, "We have basked in our sisters dreams about thee. Thy exploits and puissance are well-known to us."

"Then what's with the throwing soup at the maids, what with chasing everyone out. You have pissed off Philomena, and they don't come any meana, than Philomena."

That seems to get her. "Dost thou not understand our fear of the unknown. A thousand painful years it has been for our sister, yet for us, it is as a mere day. All our anger, every frustration still seethes within us. We hear thy words, and feel the joy thou lavishes upon our sister. But the demons which drove us to becoming Nightmare Moon are fresh, the wounds raw, the feeling of betrayed and betrayal still fresh and burning within our blood. It bubbles up and we cannot control it."

Okay, that makes sense. Time to switch gears completely. Someone gave me MacBeth, and we're doing One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. "Two things, first, you need to be seen with your sister. She is terribly lonely, and your isolating yourself helps neither of you. Your crimes are remembered only by your sister, who desperately wants to forgive you. Second, come to the combat training, it's a good way to blow off steam with the other alicorns and it'll let that hostility and tension out in an acceptable way."

"Our sister sits at court, how wouldst our presence be regarded," she asks, and puts her hooves to her mouth, "We cannot, we cannot bear all those eyes and faces watching, judging us. It cannot be done."

"How about I drag you to the throne room by your ears?" I ask. I'm only half-flippant, it might just be a completely different paradigm I'm dealing with.

"Thou would grant me such a boon and accept the punishment that such must merit?" she asks, staring at me fearfully but with such hope.

"What, lock me in a dungeon? Celestia is not likely to lop off my head, not with Cadence as my owner," I reply, "Maybe another human. But if Philomena knows what I can do, so does Celestia."

Little Blue nods and bows her head. "Thou are perspicacious," she says, her ears are twitching, "To see our cowardice so clearly."

"I was guessing," I admit, "But so many stories have these elements that it isn't hard to guess." I take her ears, they're nearly burning hot, then I spot the bloom on her cheeks I'd missed before because of her coloring. As it's intensified, it's become more visible.

"SCARED? I SHALL DRAG THEE TO THE FOOTSTOOL OF THINE SISTER AND DASH THY PRIDE AND ARROGANCE ON THE ROCK OF EQUESTRIA," I say.

She's got her ears pinned back as she stares. "Where didst thou master the Royal Canterlot Voice?"

"Band camp," I tell her.

"This was widely taught?" she asks.

"Sure, anyone could learn it," I reply, "Just takes a little training and a decent set of lungs."

She bows her head. "That is most disconcerting," she says.

I clap my hands. "Well, onto dragging and dashing," I say and gently grasp her ears.

She's fine, until we reach the door. "We have changed our minds," she says and shies back from the door.

"Okay, I'll get the hammer and nail you inside," I tell her and let go of her ears.

"Are thou not going to convince, persuade or threaten us?" she asks.

"Nope," I tell her and set the first board against the door jam, "The show will go on for the rest of us. You can stay inside here, irrelevant, forgotten, and you'll collect cats or little birds. Ponies will mutter about the 'crazy cat lady' and go about their business."

She stares at me in horror as her imagination takes her along for the ride. If her imagination made her jealous of her sister, and the whole 'Nightmare Moon' thing, I can barely imagine what it's doing now.

"You'll be erased from history as memories erode bit by bit. And this time you'll know it's entirely your fault. I guess being immortal isn't what it's cracked up to be," I tell her.

She's chewing her hooves now.

"After a thousand years, they'll dig through the guano encrusting everything, wash you off and give you another chance to reintegrate into pony society. But by then you'll be two thousand years out of date," I tell her.

She's practically wilted, looking cute and vulnerable with her big eyes. But stage fright is stage fright and you just deal with it.

"We shalt relent, mayst we at least voice our terrors on our sojourn?" she asks, sounding about 5-years-old.

"As long as you don't imply I'm physically or sexually abusing you, I think that would help your case. We're going to the throne room, and you're unworthy, are the themes you can harp on. I suspect that there is a soupcon of verisimilitude about such a delivery."

"Art thou amusing thyself at our expense?" she asks.

"Merely pointing out what you sound like to others. Either quit doing it, or play it for laughs and expect ponies to chuckle and shake their heads," I say, "If it's a role then each laugh is a success, not an insult or aversion."

She nods and offers her ears. I lead her out and she immediately starts. "Nay!"

I hope she didn't mean neigh.

"We care not who authorized this, thoust cannot simply drag a princess to the throne room. If our sister desired our presence, guards would have been dispatched not common, unwashed ruffians!" she shouts.

I should have brought real earplugs.

It goes on, and she keeps just enough 'that Celestia commanded it' to keep the guards as escort rather than me as a captive.

"We could arrest him, your Highness!" Muttonchops offers.

"THEN DO SO," she says.

"Certainly, we'll take you both to her Highness Celestia and she can straighten this out."

"No," she whimpers, "I am not worthy, I have done such a wrong. How can I ever face her?"

"Forward ho!" Muttonchops orders, but winks at me. The guards clearly are on the sisters' side, rather than on the Great White's or Little Blue's alone.

Fortunately, no one thought to warn the Great White, so when the whole cavalcade bursts into the throne room, all conversation comes to a halt. The guards part like the Red Sea as I lead the gently tugging Little Blue through the crowd, most of the guards peel off, but Muttonchops and a few of the steadier troopers stay close to make sure this doesn't go awry.

"Please, we, I am not worthy," Little Blue says as I pull her up the stairs to the throne with my grip on her ears. We reach the top. The Great White is standing, and glaring at me. For once I've caught her by surprise. Little Blue takes her place beside the Great White, who drapes a wing over her little sister and pulls her close. Little Blue nuzzles her big sister, and the Great White gets a look of calculation. Then she nuzzles her sister back. I think they're the only ones in the whole throne room still breathing.

Thank God she gets it.

"Captain Armor, take this, creature to the deepest of the deep dungeons," the Great White intones.

Poor Armor gasps along with half the court. The buzz and muttering among the crowd make me think that I might be slipped a mercy avocado or two during the trip.

"Highness," Armor says. His voice is shaky, then firms up. "Percy, here, now."

I pat Little Blue on the muzzle before trotting over to where Armor and a squadron of fierce and very worried looking guards awaits.

Armor clearly isn't in on the joke, so he is traveling with a heavy heart. Down stairways first painted and decorated, then hewn from living stone into the face of a cliff that descends. The ponies are shocked that I wasn't executed on the spot, and wonder if that would be a kinder fate than what waits below. I have to be wary that someone doesn't just 'do me a favor' and push me off the stairs. While one side is the mountain's stone, there is no other side. Just blackness out as far as the light reaches. One glance over the edge reveals a trail of firefly like lights descending into the darkness. We are descending a long way. Again I wonder why nopony seems to think guard rails would be useful. I could easily dispatch the entire force by surprise.

Crystals and torches provide the light here, not the open airy structures of the castle which try to use as much of the natural light as possible. The only sound is the hoofsteps and the slap of my sandals. The sound does not disturb anything alive down here.

We continue descending, and I begin to wonder if the ponies being sent down here to deliver me to the jailers are being worse punished than I am.

The bridge that we arrive at looks like something out of an addict's fever-dream of Moria. Wide, stone, and again, no rails. The tramp of pony hooves has left a slight depression in the center, and nopony stops me when I kneel by the edge and look down. I had been smelling the fishy smell for a little while. The bridge crosses a natural lake, and occasional sounds of something moving within it, and a glow like from the fish at the depth of the ocean nears the surface from time to time.

No pony, not Armor or any of the guards would approach to drag me back from the edge. They huddle in a defensive circle seeing nothing but the darkness, and hearing nothing but their mutterings and the echos of their own fears. After several minutes of curiosity, I walk back to join them.

But unlike the ponies, I look around the huge cavern containing the lake and the bridge. Huge crystals glowed softly in the walls, and overhead, long stalactites covered with softly glowing moss. The overall effect was of a roofless cathedral under a starlit sky.

"Come on Percy," Armor says, waving to me, trying to hurry me on.

I approach him, then gesture around, trying to get him to acknowledge the incredible vista surrounding him. But the Ponies are too frightened to see it. I aim Armor's face at a particularly beautiful section, and scratch him behind the ears.

He finally calms down enough to see it. "By Celestia," he whispers, and begins looking around as if seeing it all for the first time. He stays close, as if I'm some amulet to keep the darkness from taking him, and looks around in amazement.

I wonder if the ponies' aversion to night is deeper than I originally suspected. It would explain Little Blue's problems a thousand years ago.

The ponies cluster around us, oohing and aahing as they perceive the sights around them as no longer oppressive and no longer a threat. It is several minutes before they decide we need to get walking again, but they seem in a better mood.

"I get the distinct impression, he isn't going to be imprisoned down here, just inconvenienced," Muttonchops says.

"Her Highness said 'the deepest of the deep dungeons'," Armor replies, "There's only one I can think of that's called that."

"Oh, dear," one of the guards adds.

So much for the morale booster. We pass through a long tunnel with occasional iron bars blocking passage into the offshoots. Some of these cells have ponies in them, most do not. Yet on we walk. Some of the prisoners don't watch us, some hurl insults at me or the guards, some plead for mercy, and a few rattle their bars and make fierce displays at the guards. Armor and Muttonchops ignore them all. I wave to them, which infuriates them more.

Their anger means nothing to me.

We enter into a widening cavern. This wasn't chiseled out of the native rock, but part of the natural cavern. The entry way is narrow, and a heavy iron grate bars the way. But the gap in the stone opens onto a beach twilit by a large, softly glowing crystal. Whether magic or radioactivity powers the thing is irrelevant. The glow is nearly enough to read by, but not widespread enough to wash out the wonders of the cavern. Before me is the lake, and nothing bars my escape from here in that direction. Armor and the others withdraw, and lock the door behind them, sealing the only route they assume I can escape by. I sit and watch the lake a while, trying to track the ponies to determine if I can see where they reappear.

After a short time, I realize the slight bends and twists to the cell corridor puts them out of my direct line of sight. Unlike the natives, I can swim, and the denizens I've spotted moving through the water are not so formidable that I couldn't face them with a good weapon. For the moment I relax, taking in the beauty of the scene and considering deeply my next move. If they'd left me a copy of War and Peace, or my cello, this would be idea.

I've never been one easily bored, and this is not an exception. The beach is coarse sand, almost gravel in places. I vaguely wonder how this geological oddity came about. If I had studied geology, it might intrigue me more. The occasional splash in the lake doesn't bother me as I settle in. The air is warm, and the ground is not too uncomfortable, so I settle in to get some sleep. I can think of a plan later.