I Am Not Spartacus - Ding Dong the Witch is . . . ?
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 walk into the large suite the Great White has been refurbishing. The place is breathtaking, especially if you can fly. One light well, through a series of staggered balconies reaching all the way to a glass penthouse at the top of the tower. No internal walls, so while it is divided, the entire space is also open.

For those without wings, there is a staircase on the wall. This one has a handrail, a feature not always present on the other soaring architecture of Canterlot. OSHA could pay the U.S. national debt with the fines from violations of safety codes I've witnessed in this place. Sometimes, I think I was safer in the cage. The furnishings are lavish, although most are draped in tarps so exactly what they are being mostly guesswork.

The Great White stands amid a dozen cans of paint and several paint trays, a dozen rollers and brushes hang limp in the faint glow of her magic as she stares at a picture held in a hoof.

I don't remember ever seeing the Great White look so sad. Although, her behavior has been getting rather strange of late. Stranger. I attributed it, as did everyone else, to a lack of sleep. But that isn't all of it. She stares at the small painting and sighs. Then stares at the suspended painting job, then back at the picture. I can't tell if she's trying to color match, because the wall is a uniform dark blue. Or some other action.

The red bird lets out a cough, and points a wing at me. Then the Great White does something I've never seen, she fumbles what she's holding due to her surprise. The red bird, Philomena, squawks in alarm and launches herself at the picture, catching it, she flips in midair and sends it sailing at me. Why she didn't simply carry it to safety becomes apparent when I catch it. Where she'd held, it is uncomfortably hot. Another few moments and the whole picture would have gone up in flames.

I deliberately don't look at the picture but hastily put it in a drawer of the furniture next to me. Then I'm staring at the most terrifying sight I have ever seen in my entire time in Equestria. Even a charging manticore doesn't compare.

The Great White staring at me, the effects of sleep deprivation and worse blending into madness. And fury. "Are you here to mock me as well?" she asks in a husky whisper. Then lowers her head so she's staring at me eye to eye. "To remind me how I failed?"

There were always some in the arena you had to watch, because you could never guess what they'd do, and knocking them down was never enough. They wouldn't stop trying until you'd dismantled them and spread their pieces across the arena floor. The spectators loved them, everyone else hated them, because they were just as unstable when you were trying to feed them as they were in the arena. I hated them because I wanted to put on a show, not butcher a carcass that fought back. The Great White is giving off every vibe of every one of those maniacs I ever encountered.

"Oh you don't know about the wonderful holiday everyone is celebrating," her usually pleasant tones are off somehow, and terrifying. Like a familiar melody, with fingernails on a chalkboard quietly accompanying. Just enough to alert you something is wrong, but not enough to let you pinpoint what. The smile is the worst, like someone studied her serene grin, and then sneezed halfway through painting it on and tried half-heartedly to cover up the mistake. It was there, but it wasn't what it normally was.

If I'd seen a smile like that in the pit, I would have automatically crushed the skull attached to it.

"How I started it to celebrate my sister, and all the work she did. I held it at night, so that's when ponies would have to celebrate it. Ha! Ha! But then they changed it into this. And every time I tried to change it back." She lifted up a hoof and stared at it, "It just slipped away again. Isn't that silly?" Her laughter, which I'd never heard before, has a glissando or change in pitch, like a musical saw. And like a saw tooth, it goes up and down.

If that's her natural laugh, I can see why she doesn't laugh in public. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Then she steps sideways.

"You aren't going to run off and tell everyone, are you?" She bows her head, not incidently aiming her horn at me and laughs again. "Yes, you're going to run out among all the ponies saying that Celestia is lost in the past. That she keeps talking about her, and no one even remembers who she is."

I'm hoping 'her' and 'she' are separate entities.

"You can tell them all I'm an awful sister. That I should have listened. I should have known." She's pawing the ground and her ears are pinned back. She continues as she turned her head from side to side, "But after Discord, and Sombra, and the Windingoes, I had nothing left for my poor sister." The normally pleasant tones have a tremulous air to them, as if the insanity was held by a sheet of glass, and the right tone would loose it upon the world.

'What sister?' I want to yell at the top of my lungs. Then her expression turns ugly.

"But you don't know. You don't care. You just came in to laugh at me. The poor, pony princess possessed by primeval passions of passed prospects." She laughs again, the same horrible down then up warble. And the forced smile.

The blow fell without warning. I'm sliding across the room on the floor. I've got the wind knocked out of me, but more importantly, the only door is easily thirty feet away. I know she could have killed me. Whether she held back out of mercy, or because she wants the terror to last I don't know.

She takes her time walking over. Her step and her gaze never waiver. "But you hate me for all kinds of other reasons. What ponies have done to you. All my fault too? Isn't it? Isn't it?! ISN'T IT?!"

It takes all I have not to answer, except to kneel on the floor and raise my hands in surrender. I keep my eyes down, and wait until her forehooves come into sight. Her horn touches me in the forehead and presses, I can either elevate my head to look her in the eyes, or let her punch it straight through my head. I look up.

"You think I am gentle and kind," she tells me. The contempt in her voice rankles, but over a foot of sharply pointed bone gives her all the advantage she needs. The only sign that this might not be a disaster is the red bird hiding her head under her wing as if embarrassed. "But while I was gentle with so many, I couldn't save my own sister." She moves her horn aside so she can lean close to whisper to me. "Do you know what I'm going to do?"

I can't react except to look at her. The smile is genuine now, but terribly sad.

"I'm going to send a mare, barely out of her fillyhood, off to fight the terrible thing that consumed my sister. Do you know why? Because I failed. All I could do is lock it away. But the trusting foal will go to her doom, or succeed, without ever knowing why." She nuzzled me and whispered. "Because if I tell her, it won't work." She drew back and laughed again. A horrible sound. "I put a mare I love like a daughter, and my own sister together on one throw of the dice. Am I not angelic?" She takes a wings-upraised pose. "Am I not kind and wise as those ponies all say?" she whispers in wistful tones.

Then she thunders, "Those ponies celebrating the monster who destroyed her, not the pony they should be honoring!"

My back is against the wall, why I'm not through the wall and outside, I have no idea.

"Don't you want to be celebrating? Mocking all her achievements and talent? Celebrating her downfall?" The smile briefly faded. "Celebrating my greatest failure?" Unfortunately it returned. "I wouldn't blame you. I wouldn't even stop you." She steps sideways to open the path to the door.

Except I know that trick. She's faster than I am, and her magic is faster still. If I try to make a break for it, she'll have me in an instant. And in her state, that could mean anything. And there are places she could stick that horn I'd probably live through, but wouldn't enjoy one moment of.

The giggle is worse than the laugh. "But you hate me personally, don't you? That's why you don't trust me. After all, ponies hurt you, over and over, and I'm in charge of the ponies. So you aren't like them." She gestured at the door. "You aren't hurting me to have fun. You want to hurt me in vengeance."

I actually would love to not to hurt anybody any more. Just because I've become good at it, doesn't mean I want to practice that skill.

She nuzzles me. "You want to hurt me don't you. You're the only one who has a reason to hate me as so many do." She kisses me, and gives me the eeriest smile. Then the cracks in the facade spiderweb, and I see how miserable she is. "But you don't have to use knives, or teeth. Just laugh." She gestures at the room.

It looks like a Goth nerd's dream house, all dark colors, huge library, and I think a telescope up near the top.

"I'm stupid, putting this all together myself. As if my working on it personally will somehow make a difference in what I did," the Great White says as she walks around, "As if using the symbol of our love and trust for one another to banish her in the moon will somehow be erased by a few personally chosen wall hangings and a little sweat equity."

She whirls to face me, her fury back full force. "So laugh. It's so ridiculous, laugh! The beloved ruler of Equestria, will be hated by her blood kin, and she thinks this will make any difference. SO LAUGH!"

I'm glad humans supposedly 'can't' laugh, because this isn't funny. Not in any way, shape, matter or form.

I reach up to touch her, and she shies back as if I'd take a swing at her. Then she leans in and stares at me. I realize, she's trembling.

"Am I not worth even your hatred?" she asks, "Is pity all you feel for me?"

In a way, it is. While she may be the ruler, she can't prevent these children from being as cruel as children are everywhere. These ponies aren't adults, they're kids. This isn't Plato's Republic, this is Lord of the Flies.

As my hand hangs, her expression returns to rage. "What do you know of what I've done?" she asks, her voice thick with anger. "You can barely understand it. You've never known betrayal. The evil you've faced is uniform, the same and never changing. I ignored and turned against my sister when she needed me most!"

And who has been there for you? Was this sister you are building this shrine for there for you? Were any of the marvelous ponies now, or then? Same place they are now, in their own world. Even your student who supposedly worships your every sunbeam. I don't see her with a paint brush or roller, or even a cup of tea and a kind word.

I lowered my hand and approach the Great White. In alarm, she steps back, then she scrambles sideways so the path to the door is wide open.

"I won't try and stop you," she whispers as she bows her head. Then her anger resurfaces. "Do whatever you want!" Her head and tail droop. "I don't care any more."

'Do whatever you want'? Dangerous thing to one who has little to lose, and much to gain. No, I don't hate you. You can't control your subjects enough to change the holiday back to the way you want it. It's axiomatic that you couldn't prevent what happened to me. You and Pink are the only ones who have been unswervingly kind to me. I stand and walk along beside her, touching her neck and back, feeling the knotted muscles there.

I briefly consider giving her a swat on the butt and a stern talking to, and then let everyone explain it away as a hallucination because of, pick your own excuse. But the imp in me has other plans.

She looks over her shoulder at me, gives a mirthless chuckle and moves her tail out of the way. Her head droops to near the floor.

Almost, but not quite. I carefully fold her tail up and over her croup. She shivers, her head nearly to the floor and her feet lifting and falling almost as if she were dancing or marching in place. A good jump and I'm seated on her croup. The Great White raises her head to turn and look at me in confusion as I lay down on her back. Her ears swivel full forward and her eyes watch as I rest my hands at the top of her withers and begun working on the tremendous tension there. She straightens her neck out and lowers it, her ears slop out to the sides. I feel like I'm trying to wear away a chunk of cement with my bare hands, but she relishes the attention.

Her breathing is slow and regular now, her wings are fluttering a little, but that's normal too. Now it's time to take the biggest gamble I have since I came to Equestria. It's high risk, but for extremely high reward, and frankly I like the Great White. Sure she seems to periodically scare the Hell out of me, but on Nightmare Night, a good, safe scare is de rigeur.

Five years of watching the occasional scuffle of young love, then listening to Left-Front's almost clinical explanation of unicorn and pegasus erogenous zones, with a statement or two about Earth ponies told me one thing that I doubt even the Great White realizes. Unicorns' horns when casting magic, Pegasi's feathers when flying or gliding, and Earth Ponies' hooves when they are 'fertilizing' the ground, or depending on them for support or strength Antaeus-like, all become extremely sensitive to touch, but only to the natural environment, or someone who honestly cares about them. Magic resonates pleasantly with magic, and friendship really is magic.

Unicorn horns are not just bone growing out of their heads, they're covered with a layer of keratin, similar to human fingernails. Hooves are the same stuff, as are feathers. But there's one other thing of keratin, hair. And the Great White's ethereal mane is always charged with magic.

I comb her mane out of the way with my fingers, so I can start to work on her crest.

She gasps, raises her head and squirms. "P-Percy, don't, don't do that," she says, but in the wrong tone for it to be a command. Perfect opportunity to 'misunderstand'. Besides, if she were serious, she could throw me off with her tail like a cook flipping burgers.

I slowly run both hands through her mane. This time the hair reacts, pushing at my hands, like little zephyrs made of silk, but not enough to impede their passage, or prevent them from returning to her withers. Her sigh and shudder as she relaxes and lowers her head tells me I made the right choice. I guess she's blushing, because I can feel more warmth from her body.

I continue working up her crest, every few moments combing her mane out of the way, although now it's twining around my arms and shoulders. While her tail is caressing me as if exploring around my legs and back. If I didn't know better, I might be worried. She's making these whimpering little whinnies that in some ways are hilarious, but in others are wretched. That physical contact, physical pleasure should be so rare and so highly prized. About half way up her crest, she starts shivering. Her ears are still splayed to the side and her breathing is faster, but still regular, so I pay it no mind, mistakenly. Because despite laying atop her spine with my legs wrapped around her flanks in front of her haunches, she's still very soft, and warm, and fuzzy, and now - vibrating. Now I'm starting to send her a clear and growing, if rather boorish signal that I'm enjoying the closeness and contact quite a bit myself.

Oh crap. When making plans, it is always good to have a contingency in place for when you fail. You should also have a contingency in place for when you succeed beyond your expectations. While I hoped she'd enjoy it, I assumed I hadn't even started on the stuff that would get her this excited. The Great White pounds that lesson home, by gently raising her wings and neck as far as they'll go, and letting out a soft nicker. Like a horse would to a foal or a friend. Her shivering stops and she's blowing like she just ran a race. Her neck and wings dip back to brush the ground.

Okay smart guy, decision time. Hell with it, they can only execute me once. Besides, if she's that starved for physical intimacy, it's gonna be death by snu-snu for sure. I keep working on her neck and the tension there, combing through her mane every few moments. The free parts of her tail are wrapping around me, and the soft ends are brushing my exposed skin. If the tentacles in hentai anime would adopt this approach, and get some fur mittens, it wouldn't be called tentacle rape anymore. She's also starting to undulate, raising her croup, then the back while lowering the croup, then the withers while lowering the back. The undulations keep pace with her breathing which is speeding up, coming in short gasps. It feels like riding a mechanical bull, which someone has turned into an emulation of a lap dance.

Her wings are rising slowly. "Tighter, your legs, tighter," she gasps out, and her mane and tail press on my legs. I hook my feet under her and squeeze as hard as I can. She gasps, but this also means the fur is rubbing harder on me, which may or may not be the point. I don't remember discussing this in any of the 'classes', but a stallion's legs would be around the barrel near the shoulders, not the 'waist'.

I'm nearing the end of her neck, do I rub her horn, or massage somewhere else? No, I'm trying to be a masseuse, if the customer reacts, that's not the intent. I reach around and start on her shoulders. They are if anything, worse than her neck was. Looking over the side, I see her knees wobbling. Frankly, that only encourages me to work harder. I also remembered an old legend that said bad memories were stored in certain muscles. From the Great White's reaction, I wonder if it's true on Equestria. She can't remain standing, and she starts to sit. I unhook my legs and let her settle to the ground. I'm glad to relieve the pressure, my erection is getting painful and her rubbing her body against me was not helping that. The bathroom and later is the obvious combination to deal with it. Painting the ceiling in here and now seems rather low-class.

As she settles, her wings flutter continuously, and she raises her head to gasp. Her undulations have lessened but her mane and tail still stroke and tickle any bare skin, which is most of it. She looks like she's doing a virtuoso performance of the ballet The Death of a Swan. Having wings helps, but the repeated 'little deaths' helps her sell the performance.

My problem, if you want to call it that, is the ponies love to share, especially something they like. And the Great White loves how I'm making her feel. So she's insistent on sharing, and with a mane and tail like the Great White's, a hair shirt is something anybody would grow to love. Call me a furry, but a nice lady getting orgasm after orgasm from what I'm doing makes me hard and getting harder by the climax. No matter that only her voice is human like. In reply, I'm getting the best handjob I've ever had, by what feels like a dozen sets of mink mittens. It's making it hard to keep my cool and keep concentrating on working out her tension. But the pressure in my groin is flat out starting to hurt. I've got to hold it, I've got to hold it. She doesn't want me to, that's clear as well.

Then I commit arguably the worse case of Les Majestie I've ever heard of. But from the wings-up posture, and the cry of joy from the Great White, I think she forgives me for blowing my load all over her back, mane and tail. She keeps gently stroking my balls and softly squeezing my dick until I can't give anymore.

I don't care if I'm laying in a sticky mess, exhaustion and relief claim me as I finish. I catch the Great White looking over her shoulder with a genuine grin. Not the 'I have a trick', but genuine happiness. Maybe for getting and receiving what she's wanted from her ponies for so long. I wonder if her student understands just how much a cuddle means to the Great White.

She settles down to rest a bit herself, and her mane and tail prevent my feeble attempts to rise or move away. She snakes her neck around to let me see her still grinning. Again not the 'canary that is going to eat the cat' grin that she usually has, but a contented, toothy smile.

Then she reverted. Oh crap did she revert. She tones it down the instant she sees my reaction. But it was too late to run as she stood, steadied me with her wings and walks towards the bathroom. Still lying in the sticky mess of my own making, I consider how I could escape from whatever she has planned.

I'd probably live through it, but The Great White has a terrible ability to scare the everlovin' crap out of me. Not just because she's the oversized, sorcerer-queen of all she surveys, but because of how twisty her mind is. Pink is completely straightforward, Armor is about as devious as a howitzer barrage, and most of the others are babes in the woods compared to those two.

But the Great White seems to live and breathe doing the unexpected. Like painting a room by herself when tons of servants and admirers would gladly help, and frankly, flipping out about this sister I've never even heard of before. But I never heard of the pony type the Great White was either, before I met Pink.

The inside of the bathroom is a tub large enough for a couple of horses the size of the Great White to bathe in. It's empty at the moment. Arrayed in racks around the room are various bath salts, shampoos, brushes and other cleaning items. There's also a shower stall in the corner.

I slip off the Great White's back and investigate the shower. It has a hose attachment, probably to get those hard to reach spots, or to hose off the tile of the bathroom into the floor drains.

"Percy," the Great White calls, "I can run the tub."

I ignore her suggestion and get a hot but not uncomfortable stream from the hose and select one of the shampoos. I wet her down and then begin rubbing the shampoo on her back. She snickers and wets her mane and tail. She adds a dollop of a different, very flowery shampoo to her tail and proceeds to use that to soap me down. Especially the sticky mess on my chest. She lets out a few, low moans as I clean her body, and she cleans her mane and tail, and me.

She seems a little disappointed that I don't take advantage of her and launch a tickle attack. Frankly, I'm more than a little weary, and getting rambunctious in a room with a hard floor and a very large, four-foot deep, cement-lined hole is not a wise idea. Rinsing her off with the hose, and her rinsing me off with a bucket drawn from the taps in the tub get us both serviceably clean.

"Percy," she begins, then frowns, "I guess I can ask you to trust me later."

I rub her cheek, she takes this as affirmation, if not outright agreement. Her horn glows and I brace for whatever comes next.

OMG SHE GORGEOUS HOW DID I NOT SEE THAT I've got, wait a second, how did she go from pretty horse-thing, to 'I've got to get between her thighs?' Then I see her expression is pretty much matching the thoughts going through my head a few moments ago, and in her case still are. A look at myself answers all questions. The red body so deep it's practically black at the edges, and the mane and tail looking like the night-sky's starfield are the first clues. Oh dear God, I'm her Marty Sue fan-fic character made flesh. The 'franks and beans', not safe for children 'cutie mark' really seals the deal. I look back at her with a raised eyebrow, and the unbridled carnal lust has given way to some embarrassment.

"Ah, it's what I thought about," the Great White admits, "And you can talk. If, ah, you're uncomfortable, I can change you back. It's temporary anyway. And you don't have to be so gentle," she adds the last with a little pout.

I'm okay with it, the talking part will be a plus, but first a little fun. "Percy just bowl for ponies' pleasure," I say, lower my head and pout a little myself. When she looks crushed, I grin a little. She splashes me with the hose.

I shake off the water and fluff out my wings. Wings? I guess the action is instinctive and comes with the body. I snort and paw the ground as I've seen horses do. "WO-man!" I call in my best 'caveman' tone. I trot over wild-eyed, staring at her and chuckling slightly.

She sits her butt down in a corner and stares at me fearfully. "Now, Percy," she says. Her worry evident as she makes placating gestures.

I approach step by step, her eyes grow as my mad expression grows worse. Hey, turnabout is fair play. She lowers her head and her horn glows. I touch hers with mine and rub gently as I sit down.

" 'And you don't have to be so gentle'," I say, "The Great White want Percy in the pit, all." She face hoofs as I roar and snarl and bear my 'fangs', all the while gently rubbing my horn against hers. "Percy can do. When Percy fights, and ponies make lots of noise, Percy gets more food, warm, sleeping cloth, extra bath, Percy can do here too."

Poor lady's in tears. Both from my honest desire to make her happy, and the brutal candor of my revelation. I use my wingtips to brush away her tears. They're the only part of this new body than I'm sure won't give her a black eye by accident.

"Percy, why?"

"Percy want to live," I tell her, "Ponies make noise, Percy gets matches that Percy can live with. Percy learn what makes ponies noisy, and give it to them."

"You mean, applause," she says and stomps her hooves.

"And." I try to clumsily laugh. It's harder than it seems. "Sometimes get some ponies make one noise, other ponies making another. If they all loud, Percy gets food, sleeping cloth, baths." Now I smile wistfully. "Even pretty woman to keep." I shake my head. "No, the Great White wants Percy of the pit, I not hurt her, but you want scared," I tell her as I stand up and get back in character.

"Percy, why me?" she asks.

I sit down again. "Pink and the Great White first ponies who are always nice. No whip, just hard look when bad. Understand sad, hard look is Percy bad, not need whip. Not have to keep happy to stay alive, but want to make happy."

"What about Shining Armor, he's been kind to you," she says. When I stare in confusion, she adds, "Pink's mate."

"Oh, he not hurt Percy, but he kill my mate and child."

The Great White is thunderstruck by the revelation that this happened, and that I know about it, and seem utterly detached about it. "Aren't you, angry about it?" she asks with the care a bomb squad member normally takes with a suspicious package.

I shrug. "Ponies kill humans always."

She stares at me in horror, tears running down her cheeks. "Is that connotation, or denotation?" she asks, seemingly to herself. "You don't rage against the murderer of your mate and child, because it was a pony, and that's what ponies are?"

When I nod, she does what I've started think of as an alicorn hug, wings, forehooves, and mane. Pink does it to Armor, now the Great White is doing it to me.

When our manes entangle, I can feel her, her sorrows, her joy, not in the past, just as she's feeling them now. I can also see my own, like ever-changing paint in a tank of water, changing, touching, mixing, but I could tell the colors were which emotion. Yet I could also see the real world around me. I gathered that being 'safely scared' is what the Great White wants. Typical of all I've heard of Nightmare Night. But my little revelation killed any romance for the night.

"Percy, can you come back tomorrow night?" she asks, "And help 'the Great White' with the decorating?"

"Change paint. Too much blue."

"But she loves blue," the Great White says.

I collect several sections of her mane. "Blue, blue, blue," I tell her, "But not all one blue." I gesture at the walls. "All one blue. All blue, but not all one blue."

She face hoofs again. "You're right, and thank you. I appreciate your help."

With that, I'm back to being a human again. A very tired human. She carefully lifts me onto her back and walks towards the door. There, she stops and considers. Only when I try to slide off her back, so she won't be seen acting as a steed to a human, does her resolve firm and she firmly puts me back on her back and walks towards Pink's apartment.

It's dark out and from the lack of lights outside, most of the parties have either broken up or moved inside. Entering Pink's apartment unannounced, the Great White walks right into the middle of one. Muttonchops and a mare who's probably his wife, Pink, Armor, the four guards and two ponies I've never seen before. Both gray, although the male is bluer, the mare with a two-tone mane, and the stallion with just a dark blue mane.

"Twilight Velvet, Night Light," the Great White greets them, "I want to put Percy to bed, and then I have a rather macabre subject to discuss."

None of the others argues, although Pink does help tuck me in.

"How can you keep your hooves off him," the Great White asks, "He's so adorable."

"Shining is almost as cute," Pink replies and the mares chuckle.

The conversation becomes hushed, but I can still hear bits and pieces. Both Pink and Armor know that Armor poisoned my 'family' and he feels terrible about it, and the suffering of all the humans they put down. The other stallion I didn't recognize tells him that he did better than many others. Sounds like my dad giving me poor advice when he didn't know what to say.

Then the Great White drops the bomb. 'Did you know that he knew?' And I'm praying that this doesn't become 'does he know that we know that he knew we didn't know he knew we knew?'

I get my wish. There is dead silence among the ponies. " 'Ponies kill humans always'," the Great White adds, " 'Not have to keep happy to stay alive, but want to make happy.' I think we have not been the friends we would desire to have."

The others' comments are too hushed for me to hear.
------------------------------

It's morning, I'm still in my bed, and I instantly realize I've overslept. There's no clock in here, but the angle of the sun means I missed breakfast and I might be late for training. I scramble for the door to my room, as I wonder why no one woke me, and a thousand bad scenarios go through my mind. A phalanx of familiar, grinning ponies is not what I expect on opening the door.

"You didn't go out for Nightmare Night," Left-Front says.

I suddenly have an urge to slam the door and nail it shut from the inside. A few friendly pushes with a large side-order of nuzzle gets me out into the living room, despite my attempt to head for the door to get to the training grounds. It slowly dawns on me that none of the ponies, mares or stallions, is dressed for practice.

On the table in the living room there's a small bowl of fruit, and bless my soul, a steak with mushrooms and Swiss cheese. The steak is smaller than a burger would be, but I know how uneasy ponies are about humans eating meat, although cats, dog, and griffons don't induce such worries. Rumors that 'meat-fed, handful in bed' is the major reason. I think that the humans given a better diet are just healthier and happier.

I look at all the expectant faces around me. I remind myself that I've got a steak in front of me, but I take a risk, gesturing for the utensils that accompany a plate. I'm usually fed out of a bowl.

"Percy and his patterns," Pink says and chuckles, "Am I going to be the only spontaneous one in this whole family?"

Armor looks shocked and offended.

Pink returns with a fork and a steak knife.

Five years without practice have made me a little rusty, but there's no way I'm wasting a bit of this steak.

"The way he picks things up is uncanny," Muttonchops breathes.

"Are you sure you didn't have an older brother nopony talks about?" Pink asks Armor, "You're so much alike: stoic, brave, and so cute and cuddly."

Armor takes the ribbing in stride, but sends a glare at Muttonchops suggesting serious repercussions if it leaves this room.

I keep savoring the steak. Nothing is going to distract me from this. So tender I could probably have cut it with a sharp look, the mushrooms perfect, and the cheese adding a nutty sweetness.

"Oh, hello your Highness," Parasol says, "Princess Cadence, it's Prince Blueblood."

Oh, swing and a miss, nice try, even with his reputation, I'm not through enjoying this.

"Oh, hello Cadence, and Shining." I couldn't manage that change in tone if I found a billion-dollar lottery ticket, then stepped into a septic tank. The self-absorbed unicorn constantly known as Prince ponces in. "Ah, you took my advice. I find that a special treat works wonders. Have to balance the carrot and the stick."

The steak was HIS idea?! Okay, new rule, don't taunt the universe, it's bigger than you are.

"By Celestia's mane, is he actually using a knife and fork?" Blueblood asks, "And a napkin?! How did you ever manage that?"

"By withholding the stick," Cadence says brightly, "But I do thank you for suggesting such a wonderful carrot."

"Yes, of course," Blueblood says, "Well, court should be a much happier place today. Ta."

"Ta," Cadence and Armor say together. The smiles vanish the instant the door is closed, and everyone except me stares at it for a while, willing it to stay closed. I'm glancing around, and keeping a watch on my steak.

"Sergeant," Armor says to Muttonchops, "You said you could turn any pony into an officer and a gentlestallion."

"Yes, sir. But whole ponies, not just the back end," Muttonchops replies.

Okay, I'll stop challenging you, just let me finish my steak, please?
------------------------------

The soft, short-sleeved, shirt and longer, less scratchy kilt are new, and much appreciated. Both are marked with Pink's cutie mark, as are the saddlebags I'm carrying for her as she tours the court and the halls of the palace. I have yet to figure out the purpose of this little jaunt. It seems completely random to me.

Many of the maids and servants, even an occasional soldier runs up to drop something in the saddlebags, and sometimes to give me a kiss, then darts away. The Minotaur ambassador is a good deal more forthright. Giving me a Soviet-style bearhug and kiss on each cheek. Then he laughs when I hiss at him as he tries it on Pink, but bows and kisses her upraised hoof. He walks away laughing, while Pink both grins and scolds me for threatening an ambassador.

I've already decided that the day after Nightmare Night is Crazy Day.

Most of the presents I fish out of the bag and offer to Pink, the vast majority are cookies, candy, the occasional apple or pear. All these Pink urges on me, I give a concerned look and return most of them to the bag. The kisses and overheard comments about 'the magic rod for Celestia' and comments that 'Cadence is indeed the Princess of Love' are causing both of us to start blushing. It does explain why the presents, if the Great White were even a fraction of the crazy I saw last night to the ordinary folks, I can understand why the whole court is overjoyed at her stress relief.

I vaguely wonder what they'd say if I told them that Celestia wanted my decorating help, more than getting her pipes cleaned. I mean after they panicked about a human actually speaking.

The absolutely beaming workpony drops in a pair of sandals, those I offer to Pink, and she stops and insists I put them on. I have no problem with that, and sit down on the edge of the corridor near a corner to put them on with Pink's help. Someone drops something in the bag, and I dutifully fish it out to offer to Pink.

She looks at the avocado as if I'm offering her a live rattlesnake. Hey, I don't like them either, but aren't you overreacting?

"Who gave you that?" she asks angrily, then turns to her guards, "Who gave him that?"

Ostensibly, I'm backing away from her anger, but I do stand, and can look over the top of most ponies. Okay genius, if you spot him/her, how do you tell anyone?

The moron does me the favor of seeing me look at him/her, and begins barging through the crowd. That's all the four guards need, the pegasi take flight, the unicorns are desperately trying to keep up with Pink who has murder in her eye.

I race after them, with the advantage of running through the space they'd already cleared. From Pink's angry shouts, someone forgot that love can be turned very easily into something darker and very nasty.

The pegasi guards, along with a few reinforcements, cut off the fleeing pony's retreat, as Pink and another group close the circle. The pony flares her wings and holds up a small vial.

"Who are you?" Pink shouts at her, definitely a she-pegasus, "Percy never hurt you!"

"But your boyfriend did," the pegasus replies.

I've seen too many Batman episodes and ninja movies to stand here while the villain escapes under a smokescreen. I dive over the cordon as the pony's leg goes down, and hit her as the smokescreen spreads. I close my eyes against the possibility of teargas, but I'm on top of the pegasus as we slide across the floor. The smoke is a choking agent instead of a tear gas, so the guards are scattering and slowly refocusing on us.

The sneer on the pegasus' face ends as I bash her head hard on the floor. As she lays there presumably with little alicorns circling over her head, I dislocate her wing, then her other wing. Before she can wake up enough to scream, I clamp her mouth closed and dislocate her fetlock, knee and shoulder. She's fully conscious as I do the same to the second foreleg. She's actively trying to scream in agony and squirming as her back legs' knees and her hips get the same.

As I step away, my job done, the guards are staring at the now-screaming pegasus as she helplessly flops around, any movement sending a jolt of agony through her body. I walk over to Pink, who looks at me with a touch of fear as I touch her. But it vanishes as she realizes I'm checking to make sure she's all right.

Armor, Blueblood and a phalanx of guards approach, and look over the entire scene.

"I'm all right," Pink assures Armor. "She gave Percy an avocado, he obviously thought it was an attack on me. So he made sure she couldn't escape."

Muttonchops looks over the whimpering pegasus who is doing her utmost not to even breath. "Lad doesn't go in for half measures does he?" he says, the injuries meeting his approval, "And all needing just a good doc and a few weeks rest to put right." He leans close to the pegasus. "You're lucky he got you first, lass," he says, "The rest of us would have been less painful and more permanent."

I fish into the bag and offer Pink a handful of cookies. She smiles, then starts crying again as she hugs me. I put the cookies back in the bag and hug her back. When Armor wanders over to remind me that's his fiance I'm hugging, I hug him until his eyes bugle and kiss him on both sides of his muzzle.

Armor backs away suddenly. "I thought we agreed to keep him away from the Minotaur ambassador," Armor says as he tries to regain his breath, "You know how fast he learns."

Pink keeps happily crying, holding me. She doesn't say anything to give any clue to her thoughts, only her emotions show.
------------------------------

The pegasus had been popped back together when Armor and I arrived in her hospital room. Pink was literally too angry to be trusted around the pegasus. I think that will pay dividends if some other noble gets grabby, no one can remember the last time Pink was furious. Even mildly sedated, the pegasus' agitation at seeing me is extreme.

"Keep that thing away from me! I have rights, you can't leave me alone with that!" she squeals.

Armor grins. "Oh, Percy won't hurt you. He understands you were trying to kill him, not Princess Cadence. He's actually here to apologize and make you feel better."

Her fear is now directed at Armor.

"But ya know, it's a scientific fact that a pony can only handle so much pleasure. The ponies who owned Percy used to let him wander around the cages. Like the jewelers who keep spiders in their display cases. Every so often we'd find a corpse they'd dumped, with the creepiest grin on her. Well, sometimes it was a stallion, but usually it was mares. She'd have a little bruising, that's expected, but no organs damaged, no broken bones, just really, really happy, and really, really dead."

Now she's afraid of me again.

"You have to have heard the rumors, about Princess Celestia being, tense, over the last few weeks. Well, she isn't tense anymore. I've never seen her happier," Armor tells the pegasus, who is now showing a lot of white in her eyes. "But she's an immortal, some say a goddess, with fantastic reserves of strength, endurance and magic. I can absolutely guarantee, you'll enjoy every moment of it. It'll be wonderful."

The pegasus is hearing armor's words, but she's staring at and whimpering about me as I just sit and placidly watch. I lick my lips occasionally, but I'm not threatening her.

"You know, there's nasty jokes that Princess Cadence got Percy to, well, because I wasn't enough. Truth is, she needed someone to keep her hoofmaiden and four guards all satisfied, she's so thoughtful."

She swings her head to stare at 'Smiling' Armor. "Five, all at once?" the pegasus squeaks and tries to crawl down under the covers.

"No, usually it's three, then two, but they rotate," Armor says, his hoof on his chin thoughtfully. "No, you're right sometimes it is all five. A couple of times it was all seven, I still haven't figured that one out."

The pegasus squeals and burrows under the covers.

"Now, now, you'll hurt his feelings," Armor says.

"His feelings!" the pegasus complains.

"I'm just going to leave you alone, he's real good at taking direction, so if there's anything you really wanted done to you. I'm sure he can do it. Be back in a little while." He waves as he leaves the room.

I know he's got someone watching either through the door, or with a pair of binoculars across the street. That doesn't matter. I stand, and ignore the desperate whimpers of this latest trouble in my life. Despite what Armor said, I'd dearly love to wring the truth out of this piece of feathered flotsam. So I get where the pony at the door, if any, and the pony across the street, ditto, can't really see me. I pucker up and lean close.

She stares at me, eyes wide and pleading. And I smile at her, a big, toothy grin. Humans can't smile, but I just did. She can yell or scream all she wants, but 'only intelligent creatures can smile', and I just did.

Her eyes roll up and she faints dead away. I return to my placid expression and walk out the door to summon Armor and another guard, indicating something amiss. They rush in and find the unconscious pegasus.

"I think he over did it," the other guard says, "Or you did."

"He was just trying to kiss her," Armor replies, "Not his fault or mine she panicked."

The pair exchange a laugh, but I know that pegasus will be looking over her shoulder for quite a while. I also know where I can get a helper to facilitate her persecution complex.

I wonder if that bird hates avocados as much as I do?