I Am Not Spartacus
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.

Either I didn't hit the ground, or reincarnation is more screwed up in Equestria than on Earth. Lights flash by overhead. Then Pink leans over and kisses me. Her lips are soft and warm. She is kinda cute, for a horse. Especially when she smiles. Although you aren't supposed to pinch someone's nose when you kiss them. Then she blows in my mouth?

"Please don't die," she tells me softly.

What the Hell?

A few lights flash by overhead, and then the Lord High Executioner leans over, and kisses me. Okay, you aren't cute and I thought you didn't swing that way. Then he pinches my nose closed and blows in my mouth.

Okay, this has officially gotten too weird.

"Hang in there Percy," he tells me before he leaves my field of view.

The lights pass over, and I realize, I'm not breathing. Not on my own at any rate. Pink leans over and breathes for me. Then the Lord High Executioner does it.

Oh joy, if the Great White shows up, I don't care if I am paralyzed, I'm leaving.

They lift me onto the table and cover me with a sheet.

"Cadence, I . . . " the Lord High Executioner says.

"Go, wring that pegasus for all she knows," Pink sounds angry, "If she doesn't talk, tell her we'll lock her in a room with Percy until she does. After we make him understand, she hurts foals for fun."

Ooo! Mean lady, I like you.

The Lord High Executioner chuckles. "I may just do that. He'll have to escape and come looking for her," he says before leaving.

Pink breathes for me again. "Don't die," she tells me, she's crying now. "Please don't die."

That seems to be in your hooves and the good doctor's. Oh God, I hope they took me to a vet! If they took me to one of the quacks who practice medicine on ponies I am a dead man.

The doc sets up an IV, and they bring in a machine to take over for Pink. It isn't as cute as she is, but it does the job.

The next few days, weeks? They are a blur of images, some are dreams, others are waking. One that sticks out is the two stallions in doctor clothes arriving. I'm back to breathing on my own, but I'm still weak as a kitten. One slips a syringe from his jacket and approaches the IV line.

"Oh crumbles!" the other one shouts, and both nearly jump out of their skins.

"What are you bucking at now?" the syringe bearer says.

His partner answers, "That damn thing's awake!"

"It's also a human," his partner with the syringe tells him, "You act like it'll even understand what we're doing."

Oh, I understand all right. You left the call button in my hand and working. I've been pressing it. Then when they are just calming down a little, I whistle, real loud, like a shell coming in.

The moron drops the syringe, and the other moron screams like a baby.

Yeah, alert the entire hospital floor. The Lord High Executioner, Muttonchops and an orderly almost as big as the Great White charge in. The two morons draw knives. The Lord High Executioner looks at the two crooks, then at me, then smiles.

"Doc, pull the IV, then back out of here slowly," LHE says.

"Sir," Muttonchops sounds offended, "Even if they are scum, you can't do that to them."

"We are attempting to control his diet to speed his recovery," the orderly, no doctor, says, "Besides, who is going to cover the damage to the room."

"Cadence can," the LHE says.

At the sound of Pink's name, I turn my head to the side and while I don't smile. Humans here can't smile. I do skin back my lips to show all my teeth.

"You can't leave us alone in here with that," the syringe dropper squeals as I slowly swing my legs out of the bed, and set my feet on the floor, "You're an officer of the law! We've got rights!"

"Drop the knives, and I can make sure he leaves you alive," the LHE says.

I lean down and pick up the largest shard of glass left from the syringe.

"Or I can make him understand you hurt foals for fun," the LHE tells them, "He's funny about foals, jumped into a fountain to rescue one he didn't even know. No telling what he'd do to someone who hurts them for fun." He seems to notice I've stood up, although my head is bowed to accommodate the low ceiling. "Percy, let me tell you about these gentlemen."

The knives clatter to the ground. "All right, all right, we'll talk, just away from that thing! That monster isn't even human!" the other moron squeals.

"Take them away," the LHE orders as he collects the knives with his horn magic. When he sees me turn to face the pair, he steps in my way. "Cadence is all right." He projects an image of Pink romping with a couple of foals, and he makes sure I see he's smiling.

I sit back on the bed as much from exhaustion and vertigo as from his urging. The doctor sees that I'm tucked in.

"You wouldn't really have done that?" the doctor asks as sleep stalks me.

"Doc, to prevent an assassination on me and Cadence, he shoved a pegasus out of the south tower over the Audubon Courtyard, and hung onto her so she couldn't fly. If Celestia herself hadn't grabbed them, they'd been divots in the concrete. I don't need to do anything but suggest it."

Sleep claims me before I can hear the doctor's reply.

The second is after I was feeling better and back on solid food. I had put a lot of the situation together from overhearing enough bits and pieces from guards slipping into my room to have a private chat 'without anypony eavesdropping'. Well, technically it was true. The same syndicate that owned me during the last raid also had an 'arrangement' with an official to warn them when the raid was coming. When he didn't and someone else did, they went after his kids. Finding those kids gave the Lord High Executioner his breakdown.

Like I said, once you've determined that some people aren't people, it gets easier to extend the circle.

So after I figured out the cycle of the nurses coming in to check on me, or lift the sheets and stand there staring. I came up with an 'ingenious' plan.

The Lord High Executioner stopped in at his normal time, with Pink, also usual. Except this time, I was hiding in the closet. A blanket draped over my head and curled up in a ball.

"Percy?" Pink asks when she realizes I'm not playing hide and seek, "Are you all right?"

I burst past her and run to the Lord High Executioner, and drag the papers from underneath my pillow to put in front of him, then run back into the closet and slam the door. I try my best not to laugh, fortunately my efforts sound like whimpering. Soft-hearted Pink opens the door and hugs me. She tells me over and over it's all right and I'm safe. I'm beginning to understand why even the hardest hearts and biggest assholes in the court all love her dearly. The Lord High Executioner is looking at the papers. It's everything I know about the syndicate. Safe houses, dead drops, some of their codes, their contacts. At the top left on the first page is a not very good profile of the Lord High Executioner.

His eyes go wide and his jaw drops as he reads through the details. Five years in the field, with ponies not believing I could hear let alone remember what I heard lets me gives him a treasure trove of information. "Who gave this to you?" he finally asks, then reality sets in. He waves the papers. "Who?"

I look at him, eyes wide with terror. Pink hugs me as I shiver.

"Shining, whoever, whatever it was terrifying to him," Pink says, "Gently. Gently."

He reins in his enthusiasm and nuzzles me, adding his hug for good measure.

Once I've 'calmed down', I slip out of their grip and stand on the bed this the blanket over my head, one arm outstretched. Then I pick up the pencil from the clip board at the end of the bed, and one of the many sheets of paper, and mime the pencil floating to touch the paper. I pick up the paper with the LHE's picture and practically shove it in his face. Then I go hide in the closet and close the door. I'm lying on the floor making pathetic little noises when the LHE opens the closet. Pink immediately has a wing draped over me.

"It must have been traumatic," Pink says. The astoundingly simple conclusion of the year.

"Well, someone has a sense of humor," the LHE says, "It's signed 'the Grey Ghost'. Now if that height was accurate, or even a small exaggeration, there's only one pony that tall."

"What would she be doing passing information this way?" Pink asks and pulls me back up to a sitting position, "She has - other avenues."

"If this list of officials who are in cahoots with the fighting rings is accurate, she might understand that anything she says directly will be leaked," the LHE says, "Or someone decided to masquerade as her. Remember, our friend here got his ass kicked by her. He probably thinks he's only alive because you put a stop to the fight. And a human is the source of this, that cuts the trail to whoever did this right there. The only reason I know this is all legitimate is because I've been on the investigation."

Pink sighs. "I hate this business. Workers I can understand, even the fanciers. But why is there such an attraction to these games. Look at him, if he could talk I'd be out of business as a foal sitter. It makes no sense."

"You haven't paid attention to the Hearths Warming Eve's pageants," the LHE says, he sounds genuinely heartsick, "The three tribes drew the Windingos. Funny, but doing what we did to each other to the humans, no Windingos. Some ponies are no different from the ones in the pageant, they'll gnaw on whatever they can. They can't gnaw on ponies, so they find something else. If there were no humans, they'd still be bullies and snobs, insulting everyone and everything 'beneath' them. Some ponies just need an excuse to be bad, because that's all they are. Most of the rest of us are horrified. But if we killed them all, it wouldn't make this a paradise, it would just make us like them."

"Maybe we can make a difference," Pink says,

I hug her, the kid didn't deserve to understand the world she pulled me out of. Neither does the Lord High Executioner. Pink laughs at the sudden display of affection.

"Okay, okay Percy, we're through being gloomy," Pink says and hugs me back.

Muttonchops walks in. The LHE shows him the papers.

"How did you get this?" Muttonchops demands.

"Oh, our friendly human wrote it all down and gave it to us," the LHE says.

I mustn't laugh, I mustn't laugh, I mustn't laugh, oh that face, okay, laughing.

I point at the sour looks on the Lord High Executioner's and Muttonchops' faces and start laughing. Pink and the other two soon join in. Pink hugs and nuzzles me happily.

For the first time in five years, I feel I am actually part of all this love and tolerance stuff the ponies spew without really acting on it.
------------------------------

Leaving the hospital and returning to Pink's suite in the tower is a weird experience. Aside from the doc being a little free with the muscle relaxant so I couldn't run away, the medical staff are staring, equal parts horror and amazement. But the undercurrent is that they're glad I'm leaving before I live up to their worst fears and predictions.

The truth is, I was a model patient because I desperately wanted to get out of there. Although I did keep doodling on the back of the paperwork. Until they took away the pencil. Then I just found something sharp to prick my finger, and started doodling with my own blood.

Several tablets and a set of colored crayons were soon made available. Why doodling? It's one of the things I don't have to fake absolutely sucking at. I had to trace that image of the Lord High Executioner from a magazine someone left behind and even then it was a crap job. The red bird who would sometimes perch outside the window sill to be immortalized was sometimes guessed at being a slipper, a raisin, a door knob, and even a buffalo. Like I said, no trouble in being terrible at this.

The horrible thing was, the four guards who were moving/escorting me back to Pink's suite, decided to talk about my history. Not my favorite subject.

"So that's the female who caught his attention?" Left-Front says as they lead my gurney through the corridors.

Please change the subject.

"She's okay, for a human," Right-Front adds, "I never saw what's the big deal."

Please shut up.

"Are you kidding?" Right-Rear exclaims, "Humans are incredible. I've been saving up for one. Why do you think Cadence got one? Poor Armor is too noble to take the hint."

Oh God, in thy infinite mercy, kill me now.

"Oh yeah," Left-rear says, like a fangirl with her idol. "Especially the pit fighters. That's why the stallions kill them all."

"Come on," Right-Front says, "Compared to a stallion?"

"Especially compared to a stallion," Left-Rear says, her excitement making her voice squeak and crack with intensity, "Stallions are all like 'stick it in, oh I'm done.' You get one of those pit-fighters to understand he's got to get you off first before he gets his off, and it's like attack of the wall of living sex toys. Fingers, tongues, inside, outside, all around."

Okay, deafness, it doesn't have to be permanent, but they will be done. PLEASE!

"And once they're inside," Right-Rear squeals, "They go on and on and on! And unlike a stallion, if you peak, they don't think they're done, they go harder. Eight times! Show me a stallion who does that, and I'll marry him."

Please shut up.

"I'll take you to a place I know," Left-Rear says, "In - credible. They're all clean and they don't smell hardly. Some of them are trained to wash the mare before."

I could practically hear the eyebrow wiggle in that one.

"If you know what I mean," Left-Rear says.

"That's why you can't afford one of your own," Right-Rear says.

"Why buy when you can rent for the good stuff?" Left-Rear counters.

Then I learn something I really wish I could unlearn.

"Do you suppose that's why Captain Armor tried to kill him?" Left-Rear asks.

I don't want, huh? WHAT!?

"Yeah, he was a lieutenant on that raid, in charge of clean up," Left-Front says.

Please, I'm begging, please shut up.

"Policy was to poison them," Left-front tells us, "He was so horrified by what happened, he got the policy changed."

Please shut up, change the subject. I don't want to hear this. I don't want to know this.

"They mixed the dose wrong. A couple of the deaths were really bad," Left-Front says.

"Some of them make noises like hurt ponies when they die," Right-Front says, "It's eerie."

Shut up! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!

"Whatever happened to the female?" Right-Front asks.

God, don't do this to me! Please!

"Crrtch," Left-Front says, "Same as always. The guard manual says they're too dangerous."

"Oh they're dangerous," Left-rear says and laughs, "Of giving you terminal orgasms."

They all laugh. All I can do is cry. Even if I wanted to, and can't cry out the drugs fixed that. The memories they've stirred up slice through me. The expression of pained confusion as agony lanced through her. The moment of clarity as she felt the miscarriage begin. The utter stillness of mother and child as they stared at me, the sole survivor. I was so numb, the old sergeant practically had to carry me out of the cage, past the pit where they were throwing the bodies to be burned.

Shining Armor was part of that. Why, why did you think I had to know that!? Why? Why? Why?!

The conversation continues, and finally I'm able to tune out most of it. Lying on this gurney, all I can see is the lifeless eyes staring back. All I can hear is the growing silence and the sound of the ponies heaving the dead onto each other like stacking cordwood.

"Oh girls, thanks," I hear Pinks voice, "I hope he wasn't any trouble."

"Perfect angel like always," Left-Front said, "I think he fell asleep. Girl talk does that to my boyfriend too."

"Yeah," Pink says, "No, he's been crying, would you look at that."

"Girl talk does that to my boyfriend too," Left-Front says, "We dragged him along on a shopping trip once."

Pink is absent-mindedly stroking my hair. "I wonder, if they could talk, what would they talk about?"

"Stallions or humans?" Right-Front asks and they share a chuckle.

"Humans," Pink says, "Sometimes when he looks at me, I can almost see a soul in there."

"If they could talk, they'd talk about what anypony talks about, the pebble in their shoe," Right-Front says, there's a pause, " 'The Canterlot noble doesn't care what the Guard's doing in Germaneia, they care about the pebble in their shoe.'"

There are snorts from all of the others.

"It could be he expects to be punished," the LHE says as he walks in from the bedroom, "He did fight Celestia, and got her pretty good."

"You'd think he'd know after all this time she'd forgiven him," Pink says.

"He might not know how much time has passed. They had him pretty drugged up," the LHE says, and nuzzles me.

I want to scream out my hate, strike him where he stands, shout my fury at the unfairness of it all. To beg forgiveness from the fallen that I can't see my way clearly to revenge. What he did, he didn't do out of malice, and when he controlled the situation here, he's been only decent to me. And Pink has done absolutely nothing to deserve the fury boiling inside me.

I never believed it was possible to be so confused it hurt. The pain I'm feeling is no joke.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I think he needs a little TLC," Pink tells the four guards.

They say their good byes and leave as Armor levitates me to my feet. "Come on Percy, you'll feel better soon," he tells me, "Cadence cleared out a closet and we had a 'pet bed' made for you."

For that I'm very grateful. I don't know what poisoned me, but the muscle tone I'd gained in five years of daily fights or practice had burned away during my illness. I still feel weak and wobbly as my coordination is off, even if the drugs weren't making me into a wet noodle. So climbing to the top of the bookshelves is no longer a trivial exercise.

What made me uncomfortable in all kinds of ways, is that they don't leave me alone. Not understanding my reaction Pink and the LHE not only tuck me in, they both decide to snuggle with me so I feel at home. So I feel safe.

Confusion grows, and frustration. I cry, wanting but unable, and not wanting to lash out. My only available response is the same as a newborn's, to cry and fuss. And like good 'parents' Pink and Armor try and soothe me. In the end I'm too exhausted to continue. And sleep takes me. I wonder if my helplessness is a blessing, that I couldn't lash out at what I'm feeling. Or if attacking them and taking my own life would have been a better option. I might know later, but now I'm unsure.
------------------------------

Someone is going to have to explain how horses developed gis. The headband to keep her mane out of her eyes I can understand, but the karate jacket and pants defies any explanation possible in a sane universe.

Both Pink and the LHE had noticed how depressed I have been acting, but rather than any 'cheer up' exercises suggested by their many guests, they simply smile knowingly and laugh to each other. The walk this morning is the first real break in the routine. I seriously doubt it is to go to a physical therapist.

Pink does look rather cute in her outfit. No, I'm not ready to become a 'fancied', cute is a biological trick played on mammals so we don't slaughter our offspring when they are desperately asking for it. It slops over and collects other things with similar characteristics. The big eyes, innocent enthusiasm and her 'soothing' chatter, which if I didn't actually understand the language, her enthusiasm would probably have me hiding in a tree somewhere, all make her adorable.

The cynical part of me keeps bringing up 'why is she wearing a gi, those have a very specific purpose on Earth.' I'm glad it did, because the courtyard we entered meant she had so innocently walked me into a masterfully designed ambush.

But I can do cute too. On sighting the Great White, I immediately hide behind Pink and whimper pitifully. Poor kid suddenly has to deal with her terrified pet. While I understand how the Great White has pardoned me, and is actually tickled pink by my ferocious defense of two of her favorite people, Pink is stuck trying to soothe me with just the tone of her voice, nuzzles and stroking of her wings.

I let her lead me by the leash to the shallow pit that had been dug and floored with sand to simulate the fighting pits I was used to. Someponies had gone to a lot of trouble to put all the cues for my transition from docile to killer. That the Great White is standing there is a real testament to her faith in me, or in Pink and the Lord High Executioner.

Once I step into the pit, I yank the leash out of Pink's hoof grip and march over to the Great White, who is also wearing a mane band and gi. The guards grow extremely nervous as I confidently stride to their ruler. Even the Great White paws the ground nervously, and glances past me to Pink. But just within the Great White's reach, I throw down the end of the leash, kneel to expose my throat and close my eyes. I wait.

It is difficult to keep from smiling at Pink's stammered guesses about my behavior, and the Great White's equally uncertain questions about how to get out of this confusion. They are stumbling over the fact that as a human, this has to have a simple explanation and solution, but for the life of them, neither Princess can figure it out. Their entreaties to me 'aren't understood', I am ignoring them. My history shows when I do wrong, I typically accept my punishment and go on. Clearly, this is not what the pair had in mind.

Muttonchops finally tells the Great White simply, "He's expecting you to strike a blow for his attacking you. I suggest you do so," he tells their Highnesses, "It's the quickest way."

The Great White protests, but then taps me on my exposed throat with the side of her horn, just hard enough that I feel it. Then she steps back.

I stand, glance at Pink, who nods nervously and gestures me toward the Great White.

I grab her throat, and everyone freezes, except me. I run my hands down the Great White's neck, I feel her nervously swallowing as she tries to stand perfectly still. One of the officers is shouting at me. But I am in the pit, and there are only foes and allies here, the yellers are immaterial. I slap her chest. She shies back and gives me an affronted look.

I pay no attention as I walk over towards the shouting officer, and he shies back. I wave him forward, then gesture more emphatically for him to enter the pit. The officer squeals in fear.

Poor Muttonchops lets out a breath and calls me. "Percy, I'm coming in." The old stallion walks over and stands beside me. I spit at the officer's feet, then head back towards Pink and the Great White with Muttonchops following.

"I don't think this is such a good idea," Pink admits.

"If he hadn't been trying to carve and keep open your escape route," the Great White replies, "I would have been in trouble. Besides, you were worried he wasn't getting enough exercise."

"Let's see what this is about," Muttonchops says.

I glance at Pink and the Great White, and then run one hand over the bone surrounding Muttonchops' eye careful not to get close to the eye proper. With the other I make a clawing motion. Then I run my 'claws' down Muttonchops' throat. He too gulps a bit. Then I slap his chest. I throw up my hands and roll my eyes in complete frustration.

As they murmur, I walk to Muttonchops' side, where his armor is, and punch him. Pink rushes over to check my hand as I shake it out. Muttonchops however starts laughing, in fact he collapses he's laughing so hard.

I didn't think my act was that funny.

He sobers instantly and stands. "My sincerest apologies," he says, "Won't happen again. Bit of a revelation. Ticklish as it were."

"Sergeant, please do share," the Great White says.

He turns me to face their Highnesses. "Weak points, eyes, throat, and major organs," he points them out on me, using the same care I did, "On a human, they're all much smaller targets than on a pony."

"The body certainly isn't," Pink points out.

"Thinner thickness, and if I remember my anatomy right, a spear will get only one or at most two organs," he says, and takes a moment to stifle a giggle.

"Not a conversation for foalish laughter," the Great White says, "Or is it?"

"It is." He tousles my hair. "He's fought over a dozen ponies, and killed at least two." He waves away Pink's gasp. "They were trainers who were too free with the whip. One he killed with a single blow. None of the ponies who faced him in 'official' matches got more than a few broken bones."

"Not reassuring," Pink admits.

"It is, he could almost be a pony with how smart he is about fighting. I wouldn't trust him to buy me a tea and get correct change, but in a fight I wouldn't face him with full battle armor and a spear," he says, his enthusiasm is not rubbing off on the two princesses. "Sorry, still a bit giddy. Yes, Highness, 'share'. Here's two mares he cares about, he's trying to teach exactly how to avoid all the weaknesses of ponies. The eyes, the throat, and a spear in the chest penetrates all the way through the barrel." He started laughing again. "For a thousand years we've been doing it bloody wrong, and a human points it out in two minutes!"

Poor stallion is utterly useless for a few minutes. He looks like a colt losing a tickle fight with the world. While I'm not exactly pleased he's treating it as if the family dog had completed your relativity homework, he did get the entirety of it in one go.

Oh, you should not inspire me so. I approach the Great White while she's staring at the sergeant laughing himself sick. I know from Pink and the LHE's loveplay, there are some very ticklish spots on winged ponies, and others on unicorns. Both my students have all those weaknesses. And, ponies are insanely ticklish. One finger poke gets a yelp and the Great White's undivided attention. I get on all fours and mime out a side kick, slowly. When I stand, my index finger wiggles its way towards the weak spot.

Rather than do the kick, the Great White sidesteps rapidly. "Bad Percy, don't do that," she shouts, "I ORDER YOU."

I'm in the pit, here I'm god.

Pink rescues her by putting herself between us. "Now Percy, Auntie Celestia is old and creaky, maybe she can't do that move. Let's practice together and Auntie can get some of that smelly, old-ponies', heating rub."

The Great White didn't look that angry when I punched her in the head.

Pink works the kick a few times. Muttonchops has a better idea of how it works. She's soon able to fend me off with any of her four hooves from any direction. Muttonchops also gives it a go, although his armor keeps me from tickling him, a finger strike is still a loss.

Then the two of them form up and pick up practice spears, then try thrusting while sidestepping.

I note that the Great White looks rather longingly at the fun we're having, but I steadfastly leave her alone. Must follow orders after all.

"Difficult, but doable," Muttonchops muses, "For a volley, I'd still want to face my chest towards the enemy. But this is worthy of study." He chuckles again. "So simple. We're lucky he's on our side."

"Maybe we should do this again tomorrow," the Great White suggests.

"Well, I wouldn't want to take time from your other duties. After all," Pink says, setting the Great White to fuming, "After all, to practice, is to practice. Watching the children play isn't quite the same." Pink glances at me with a funny expression that sets off more alarms than a screaming manticore charge. Whatever she whispers to the Great White has the larger mare's eyes practically bug out of her head and turns a shade of pink close to Pink's own color.

"It would solve that problem," Pink says and walks off. I follow her.

The Great White is staring at me as if I'd become the most terrifying, scrumptious cake in history of baking. Not terrifying scrumptious, terrifying and scrumptious

What the hell is going on? And do I even want to know?

Pink's chuckles on the way back to the suite take on an extremely evil tone.
------------------------------

That Left-Rear and Right-Rear were waiting in Pink's quarters adds to my growing suspicions and proves without exception that Pink is neither as clueless nor the ingenue too many take her for.

Oh boy, do they have a clue what they . . . what they are planning to get me into? You know, the heck with it, I'm going to tell them. Living the rest of my life in a cage in a lab can't be worse that what the princess of love is cooking up to boil me alive in.

"I'm glad I caught you two," Pink says. The two guards are mercifully clueless. "I know you were planning something, but I thought I'd save you the time and the bits. And I'd be so grateful."

They stare at Pink as if she doesn't understand. "Uh," Left-Rear says, "Princess."

"Cadence, please, we're all friends here, and it's about a friend I wanted to talk to you," Pink says and grins.

Right-Rear goes straight for what she thinks is the heart of the matter. "Cadence, neither of us swings that way."

Pink drapes a wing over my shoulders and smiles. "I know."

Which of the three of us is staring harder at Pink is a toss up. As the one who knows where this is really going, I think I'm more horrified. Left-Rear and Right-Rear are just rather stunned.

"I though you and Armor were, ah," Left-Rear manages.

"Oh we are," Pink says, "It's just, well, there's a friend."

"Oh, 'a friend'," Right-Rear says and smirks.

"Not me," Pink says coldly. "If we were to include Percy, Shining would be here and you wouldn't be. As you've said, you don't swing that way. Well, Shining and I don't swing that way. But, my friend does."

"Who is your friend?" Left-Rear asks, "Not Twilight, she's too young, I mean really too young."

"An older mare, still athletic, and striking, but lonely. A mare that you'd assume would have stallions and a few mares just dripping off her," Pink says.

"Not Hurricane! She's captain of the Wonderbolts!" Left-Rear exclaims, "I've never seen her without a stallion!"

Pink takes a rather inordinate amount of interest in her wing, a little preening the plumage here and there. "I never said that, you never heard a name," Pink points out.

Why I'm not bashing my brains out against the wall at this point is a mystery.

"A little thank you for the flying lessons?" Right-Rear asks, and waggles her eyebrows.

"And helping me get over Blueblood breaking my heart," Pink says and blushes and covers her mouth with both hooves.

Right-Rear and Left-Rear exchange knowing glances.

"And here I thought the dashing Shining Armor did that," Left-Rear says in sly tones.

Pink looks defeated. I can hardly believe anyone is falling for her act, but people see what they want to see.

Pink lets out a breath. "I think Percy here would be considered a kinesthetics idiot savant, if he were a pony. He learns body movements almost as fast, if not faster than a pony, and can analyze what works and what doesn't superbly."

"Yeah, Sergeant Milestone has half the barracks trying out that new side attack. Old sarge is like a kid in a candy store with a bag full of bits," Left-Rear admits, "So, you want us to train him in what mares like? I thought he wasn't into mares."

"He doesn't need to know what it's for, and as far as I know human males are a little like stallions, they shoot they're done. Let him think what he wants. He likes making ponies happy. This will let him make mares really happy," Pink says with a grin.

If I jump out the window, Pink or Right-Rear will catch me with magic, or it'll be Left-Rear, who's a pegasus. I don't think I can get to the kitchen knives quick enough.

"Oh, so we train him up, and only you and your friend get to use him?" Left-Rear asks.

"Princess' privilege," Pink says in the pose of the Canterlot, noble snob, "Besides, I think he'd only feel right about performing for someone he knows and trusts. He can be really confusing at times."

"Right," Left-rear and Right-Rear say, and I agree with them. Although for entirely different reasons.

I know how Pink and the Lord High Executioner look at each other. I'm a third wheel or something they can cuddle when the other isn't there. It borders on the creepy and sickening, until they turn that affection on you, then . . . they make it rather difficult to maintain my jaded cynicism that all ponies are self-centered bastards. I always counter that they're the exceptions that prove the rule. But I'm a lot less sure now than I was.

Ironically, it is Parasol who trots in as the cavalry. "You are all sick," she tells them, "Percy would barely know what he was doing, and he could get in a lot of trouble if his attention was unwanted. They castrate 'uppity' males. If you want to teach him something, why don't you teach him how to give a good massage." Parasol practically gets in Cadence's face. "That way you and Shining aren't going to wonder about what he's doing."

Oh thank you God in your infinite mercy and wisdom.

"Okay, Parasol," Cadence says, bowing her head and looking chagrined, "Aren't you an expert? It is one of the reasons I hired you."

Suddenly Parasol is the one looking worried.

"Oh, hello my little ponies," the Great White says as she enters, ducking to come in the door, then straightening out. Everyone bows, and I get down on one knee as Pink and the LHE taught me. I think I'm the only one who picks up on the Great White's sour look.

"Cadence, I need a favor from you."

"Oh course," Cadence says, "An auntie, or a highness favor?"

"A little of both. I have a meeting, and their foal sitter canceled," the Great White says, then stares at me. "And bring Percy. Another set of eyes and a good climber might come in handy."

"I have wings," Cadence replies, then considers, "I'll also bring some rope."
------------------------------

The house isn't as grand as the palace, but it looks like a six-year-old's idea of how a musician's house would look. The 'gargoyles' are musical symbols that exactly mirror western notations. The windows have notes as the handles. So does the front door.

The Great White rings the bell and waits. She grins at Pink. The guards are not happy about the lord of the realm not just barging in. I can't figure out why they didn't send someone ahead.

The mare who opens the door is equally nonplused. I can barely understand a word she says, other than issuing us all on. She is a little shocked to see a human among the coterie. "Couldn't be," she says firmly and leads the Great White to the sitting room and directs Pink upstairs. Adding an infuriated, 'That girl', before leaving to begin serving the Great White tea.

I follow Pink, and hear her deeply sigh.

"If you could sing and dance, I wouldn't have to do this," she says, as if familiar with whatever we're about to encounter. Her familiarity with which door to enter adds weight to that theory.

The room is a girl's bedroom. Pinker than Pink herself, frills on anything that couldn't run away fast enough. The dog clearly stood still for it, the cat did not. Bookshelves 15-feet-high reaching to nearly the ceiling. That's where Pink is looking.

My eyes are elsewhere. Right beside the thoroughly bored dog, is a cello. Now I'm no Pablo Casals, but I did play until I came here. The dog looks at me and wags his tail, maybe because the cat took one look and fled.

"Percy, don't touch that," Pink warns as she realizes where I'm headed.

"Let him smash it!" comes the anguished cry from the top of the book shelves, "Break it into pieces! I never want to see it again."

To my amazement, Equestria uses the same pattern of notes and rests as what I'm used to. But the piece I'm looking at should be well beyond a all but a virtuoso's ability to play. Someone has an even greater sadistic streak than the ponies who tossed me in the fighting pit.

"Percy," Pink says, but is trying to locate which bookshelf hides her quarry.

The sheet music is beyond my capability. But I remember a few pieces I learned before I could sight read. A place the bow to the strings. Ashokan Farewell by Jay Ungar sounds from the instrument. I close my eyes and let the music take me away. Away from the ponies. Away from a life of blood and killing. Away from being afraid every moment of every day. Afraid of losing myself to the mask I must wear. Afraid of turning the corner and encountering something that would dredge up a memory that would cut me to the bone.

All the pain I had felt here, the despair, I let flow through the bow and into the strings. For a few moments I don't care what they do to me. I will never need to speak, they will know how I felt. What this world and the ponies in it did to me. Every hurt and bruise that failed to break me. But I felt every one of them. Some of the scars will never heal, but I continue. The music is no scream of anguished defiance, just a gentle soul continuing on.

I finish, and feel drained. As if the misery was what animated me, and now it is gone. Burning me out as it left me. I open my eyes, and see over half a dozen ponies in tears. I don't recognize the goldish-gray almost mare with the dark gray mane. But Pink, the mother, the Great White and all the guards are there. All in tears. I look back at them. Not hatred, but not my usual placid expression. Yes, I want to tell them. You did this to me. I remember, even if you don't. Even if you deny it happened, I remember.

I look into their eyes. The filly on the cusp of marehood heard only beauty, her tears are those of joy. I envy her. But the adults are haunted. The Great White looks deeply ashamed.

The moment passes. I set the cello on the floor and show the filly how to grip the bow. She drags it across the strings. The sound is not cacophonous, but it is clear who is the master. I ignore the adults and work with the filly.

Ashokan Farewell on cello http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3RMNoIzUY-0

Author's Notes:

Ashokan Farewell on cello

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3RMNoIzUY-0