Author's Notes:

Chapter contains strong sexual content between the red breaks. For those who do not wish to read such things, you can skip over the content with ease.

Twilight awakes with a start, shaking and curled up on top of a pair of crates. Her whole body is sore and damp, and her mane sticks to her forehead and neck while cold beads of sweat trail down her. Her breathing is short and sharp, and her eyes dart around the unfamiliar room. She sees packed food and medicine, bags of flour and potatoes, and discarded blankets and pillows. But she does not see Spike or Pinkie Pie anywhere. The rocking of the dirty, dim room does nothing to ease her, either. As if her nerves are not treating her bad enough, the rocking is churning her stomach and turning her face green.

Groaning, Twilight clamps her hand on the crate and slides off, dragging the blanket with her. Her legs immediately give out on her and she falls to the floor, barely able to keep her hands propped as her mouth hangs open, desperate to suck air into her stuffy lungs and throat as thick beads of sweat dribble off of her nose and splatter below.

“Spike?” calls Twilight, her voice weak and hoarse.

Silence.

Twilight looks up, calling her assistant again, but instead of seeing Spike, all she sees is an open door leading to a dirty hallway. After a very quick search, Twilight finds her sword and holds it at tight as her weakened state will allow, and then she uses the wall for support and trudges out of the room. Confusion and fear infest her in her walk down the hall. Nothing is familiar about the rotting wood or patched doors, and the claw marks on the walls do not do her any favors, either.

Her hand trembles, and the sword wobbles in her grip when she pulls it out, and she slides along the wall, keeping both hands on her blade's hilt as she goes down the hall. Soon enough, she hears voices, but she cannot understand them, much less hear her own thoughts since her heartbeats and raspy breaths are loud enough for three people. Though, Twilight knows that the voices are coming from up a flight of stairs.

The stairwell is wide open and blinding Twilight with the light of what she hopes is the sun, and she grips the railing and begins her ascension up the stairs. Wood creaks and snaps, but still she presses on. She knows Spike is near. She can feel it in her gut. And hear him, too. She still cannot understand what he is saying, but from the tone he is using, he is not very happy.

Twilight takes a deep breath to calm her nerves and to give her battered body a boost, and then she charges up the last few steps, ready to unleash hellfire and steel against those who are harming her assistant. What she sees next drops her jaw.

Blocking the boat she is on is a burning net towering well over a hundred feet high with two pale statues of alicorns with suns on their shields holding the net with their stone hands. On top of the heads are crowns, each with a large bolt gun aimed down at them, and in front of them is a ship that is nearly three times the height of their boat with sleek armored plates protecting it. Attached to it by curved metal and a system of cranks and pulleys are two more smaller boats more their size, also armored with paddle wheels on their sides. The armor has decorations of the sun and moon crossing over each other on the noses of the craft, and elegant swirls flowing from them. On the top of the main portion is a collection of reinforced masts, and every part has the pony lands has forces on their that can either be the greatest ally or the worst nightmare.

Alicorn soldiers.

Said alicorn soldiers are clad in gold and dark blue armor with flowing capes, and all of them are aiming arrows at the boat with four more bolt guns to back them up.

“For the last time, we are not a threat!” yells an unfamiliar stallion.

Twilight looks to the source and sees an earth pony with a light brown coat and neatly brown mane wearing blue pants and a blue vest above a white shirt with gold buttons. He is yelling at a white coated, gold maned alicorn that stands a head taller than him, donning a gold plated and dark blue trim armor with a blue cape. His hand is on the hilt of his curved blade, his bow is slung across his back, and he has a quiver full of arrows on his leather belt, which also has a collection of knives and cuffs. Some of which appear to have been used on an orange mare she has never seen before, Spike and Pinkie Pie. All three of them are cuffed to the railing, with Pinkie Pie having a gag in her mouth and two more alicorns pointing spears at her. Piled in front of them are their weapons, travel bags and Pinkie Pie's Party Cannon, all of which are being inspected and tagged by more alicorns.

With that sight, Twilight groans inwardly. She wants to be relieved that she somehow arrived at her destination, but the alicorn border patrol and customs agents really spoil the mood. And this is no different from the previous encounters.

“You show up without invitation on this poor excuse of a boat with a dragon and a fiend, and you expect me to take your arrival lightly?” says the gold maned alicorn.

“Do you know who I am?” says the earth pony.

“Should I know?”

“Yes! I am a Davenport. A son of the ruling family of Everfree.”

The alicorn looks up and down Davenport's body, then scoffs in disgust. “I've seen peasants dressed better than you, a supposed Davenport.”

Davenport growls and clenches his fists, but says nothing because Twilight calls them, gaining the attention of everybody.

“Don't you think this is a bit excessive, Captain Eulabir?” says Twilight.

The gold maned alicorn looks at Twilight and tightens his grip on his weapon as a vicious snarl ruins his fair complexion. “Who are you, how do you know my name, and where did you come from?”

Spike looks at Pinkie Pie with a bored sigh. “Told you.”

Pinkie Pie huffs and slouches her shoulders while the orange mare looks at them curiously, and Twilight frowns and leans against the doorway for support. She still feels sick, but annoyance has latched itself on to her like a hungry parasite.

“Are you serious?” says Twilight. “Eulabir, it's me, Twilight Sparkle.”

Eulabir stares at her.

“Daughter of Nightlight Sparkle, High King of Unicornia and Lord of the House of Sparkle.”

Eulabir continues staring.

“I'm the Princess of Unicornia,” says Twilight, her voice getting a sharp edge.

Eulabir blinks.

Twilight slaps the wood. “Oh, for Faust's sake! I am Queen Celestia's pupil!”

“Oh.”

Eulabir holds out his hand, and one blinding flash of light and a punch of pure energy to the chest later, and Twilight is blasted off of her feet and hits the walls behind her. After hitting the wall, she falls to the floor and slides to the side. A moment later, her world spins and pain attacks her body in every place possible, from head to toe as she rolls down the stairs, snapping some wood along the way. When she hits the floor at the bottom level, face first, everything goes dark.

Twilight groans again and slowly opens her eyes. Her head throbs and her vision is blurry, but she can still make out blurs that take the shape of a trio of equines.

“Was that really necessary, Eulabir?” says a stern, motherly voice.

“I was making sure she was not a changeling, Your Majesty,” says Eulabir.

“By blasting her down the stairs of a boat?”

“Yes. It turned out she was not a changeling, the dragon was her slave and Dilbert Davenport is, in fact, a Davenport and not an imposter, and his slave is somepony whom you might take interest in. But the pink one is who we suspected all along.”

The mare sighs. “Wonderful. Hide the baking supplies and potato peelers.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Twilight's vision fades to black, but a moment later, her eyes open again and she sees that Eulabir is gone and a familiar foaling is standing in front of her, grinning with a cane in her hand. Her skin has pale and sagged considerably to where it looks like they are barely on, and her eyes have started to become milky while her veins bulge from her quivering hands. Then there is the loss of hair. Time really has not been kind to this person.

“Did you enjoy your nap, Twilight?” asks the elderly foaling.

Twilight's eyes widen and she pushes herself up a bit, almost too shocked to speak. “Purity? You made it to Armonia?”

“I survived a war with dragons and you didn't think I would survive a walk? I thought you knew me better,” says Granny Smith with a teasing smile. Before Twilight can reply, the old foaling waves her hand and eases herself on a chair, groaning and rubbing her knee. “But I forgive you. Age has caught up to me and the roads seem to be getting worse. But that Eulabir fella is loose in the noggin, I tell ya. I thought alicorns were hairs from perfection, but he didn't even remember me and he nearly killed me with his blast.”

Twilight, now sitting on her bed, smiles thinly. “Eulabir is like that to everypony. There's even a rumor floating around that he thought Luna and Celestia were changelings at one point and blasted them.”

“Oh? What happened next?”

“Nightmares for a month from Luna and Celestia forgave him.”

Granny Smith snorts. “Party pooper.”

Twilight chuckles, as does Granny Smith, and she feels just a little bit lighter from it. She still feels sick and her body is still in a state of pain with worry heavy on her mind, but a little laughter has lifted some of those burdens off.

“So, how is Apple Bloom?” asks Granny Smith suddenly.

“She is not here?” says Twilight, a knot now twisting her stomach and the burden back tenfold.

Granny Smith's smile goes, and she narrows her milky eyes on Twilight and tightens her grip on her cane. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Twilight wrings her hands and beads of sweat trickle down her neck. “I sent Apple Bloom over here, but I had some business that I needed to attend to, but it did not go well. Apple Bloom should have been here by now, though. I directed her to my brother, and he should have been here before me.”

Granny Smith raises a brow. “Since when did you have a brother?”

“...Always.”

Granny Smith clicks her tongue and her fingers dig into her cane as she speaks to Twilight in a low, threatening voice.“So, basically what you're saying is that you abandoned Apple Bloom -a foaling who's never seen the border of Foalington- in the middle of the Wild to meet somepony she don't know 'bout to a place she has never even seen?”

Twilight gulps. “Yes.”

“Dang nabbit, Twilight!” yells Granny Smith with a stomp of her cane. “At least when I left for Lookout Mountain I was surrounded by you and the Pies and their cooky companions! Apple Bloom has nobody! I trusted you to look out for her and you threw her in the maw of the beast!”

“Twist was with her,” says Twilight meekly and with a cringe.

“Well, why not put some barbecue sauce on her while you're at it.” Granny Smith gets up and aims her shaking finger at Twilight, still having to look up, but now her eyes are misting and a trail of tears form on her cheeks. “You better pray that Apple Bloom finds her way here, Twilight, or I swear on my ancestors' graves that I will make your life hell.”

Despite Twilight being speechless, she still lifts her hand and tries to call Granny Smith, hoping to get a chance to explain some more, but the elderly foaling will not have it. She storms out of the room before Twilight can utter a syllable, muttering viciously the whole time, and when Granny is rounding into the hallway, her angry voice becomes clear.

“Twist was with her. Bah! How stupid can smart ponies get?”

Granny Smith's voice and steps fade, and Twilight is left sitting on her bed, throat clogged and eyes wet and hot. A moment later, an alicorn guard enters, armor pristine and cape clean and his hand on his weapon's hilt, just like the others, and he looks at Twilight with some concern lacing his stoic expression.

“Milady, is everything all right?” asks the guard.

Twilight sniffles and wipes her eyes. “No. But there is nothing you can do about it. Where is Spike and Queen Celestia?”

“The Queen is at a meeting, and your assistant is currently getting pampered by maidens whose special talents are in the fields of muscle relaxation, food and beverages.”

Twilight groans and flops backwards on the bed, clutching her face. “Great. Be sure they don't pamper Spike too much. He is a dragon, after all.”

The guard bows slightly. “Of course. Shall I have the maidens be replaced by less capable stewards immediately?”

Twilight waves her hand absentmindedly, forces herself off of the bed and grabs her sword. “You go do that. I got some research I need to do.”

“You do not wish to see your assistant or the Queen?” asks the guard, stepping aside when Twilight hobbles towards the door, using the wall for support.

“They're busy,” replies Twilight. She enters the hallway and takes a moment to remember the direction she wanted to go, and upon remembering, she goes as fast as her sick body will allow. “I'll be in the library if anypony needs me.”

“Of course.”

The guard bows, despite Twilight not looking at him, and he does an about face and marches off in the opposite direction, leaving Twilight to wander alone in Armonia's halls.

From her spot on her cushioned chair, Applejack stares at the scenery out the window of the bathhouse, watching the sun set across the green, mountainous landscape and the sparkling blue river flowing through it. Flanking the opening of the balcony, where a couple of long chairs sit, are a couple of statues of alicorns tipping large vases, which just happen to pour out a constant stream of hot water. And above them, painted on the archway, is a mural of soft colors depicting a slender alicorn mare, white with a flat, red mane, dressed in white and gold robes with her arms outstretched over a valley landscape. Around her are smaller, baby like alicorns flying playing flutes and trumpets, and beneath all that is a sun and moon joined as one.

Applejack finds the picture to be nice, but she also thought Faust was a nice goddess and the landscape was beautiful until bodies were used as walls, entire villages were burned down, and her entire family killed off, leaving just her as a prized slave for the Davenports. Now, despite the picture and scenery looking beautiful, she can't find herself to enjoy them for very long. She can only wonder how many bodies are left decaying in the forests and why Faust would bless a family as wicked as the Davenports.

Even now, Davenport is getting pampered in the room next to hers with having his clothing washed and his body scrubbed by alicorn servants. In Applejack's case, she has had her garb replaced with a soft, white robe, and she has tied the belt tight across her waist and is keeping it held shut with one hand. Her other hand is digging into the arm of the chair, and she looks over her shoulder time after time with a sickly feeling, dreading to see the knife that will slit her throat the moment she relaxes.

When the door opens, an alicorn mare wearing a similar robe to Applejack's enters, carrying a bucket filled with brushes, rags and towels. Though, despite the benevolent appearance of the mare, Applejack still watches her, waiting for her to use a lethal spell or summon a weapon to strike her down.

“You did not go in the bath?” says the alicorn, now next to Applejack.

“I didn't think I was allowed to,” says Applejack as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“Even though we told you to?”

Applejack nibbles her lip, but remains quiet, and the alicorn removes the contents from her bucket and fills it up with the hot water from the bath, and then sits in front of Applejack and grabs her feet.

Applejack immediately pulls her legs up to her chest. “What're you doing?”

The alicorn smiles patiently. “I was tasked with assisting you with your cleansing by Queen Celestia. Please relax and let me at least wash your feet, and then, if you wish, I will help you clean in the tub.”

Applejack is still tense, but after looking over her shoulder and seeing nothing, she reluctantly extends her legs and tightens a bit more when the alicorn's delicate fingers grab her ankles.

“Relax, Daughter of Orin, no harm will come to you, here,” says the alicorn gently.

Applejack remains quiet and watches the alicorn clean her feet, sparing seconds at a time to look over her shoulder or around the room for any signs of trouble. When she looks back at the alicorn, however, she feels repulsed from seeing the hot, soapy water darkening and being covered in crust of dry mud and other things she cannot put her finger on. The blackness and brown on her feet barely fade as the alicorn's hands rub the cloth around her feet and ankles and between her toes, and when the outer layer is gone, the alicorn tosses the rag to the side and picks up her brush. Once she starts scrubbing, Applejack cringes and tightens her grip on the chair with both hands as the hundreds of bristles scratch at her feet, leaving thin lines of orange exposed from under the black and brown grime.

Then the door opens again and Applejack turns her head fast enough to leave her head swimming and neck flaring, but who she sees enters surprises her. She recognizes Captain Eulabir, but not the eight alicorn stallion guards around him, and certainly not the alicorn mare beside him.

The new mare's horn and wings are undeniably larger than the others, and she is tall like Eulabir, but has the muscle mass of an earth pony. The mare's fur is white with a weak tint of pink, and her mane and tail float in the air, sparkling from raw power and striped in cerulean, turquoise, blue and pink. The purple dress she has covers her neck down to her ankles, with a slit for her legs and a gold breastplate with a gold, tri-point crown and gold plates boots and gauntlets. All of which have lavender gems in them. Applejack does not see a weapon on her, but she has a feeling that this mare would not need any if it comes down to it.

When the mare washing Applejack's feet sees the company, she stands up and bows, but is calmly directed to resume her work by Eulabir, which is what she does without any delay.

Meanwhile, Applejack watches the party approach, and her mouth becomes dry and her heart beats heavy with her muscles begging her to run, but she cannot move. No matter how much her hands tremble, no matter how tight her legs have become, she cannot find the strength to run. The only things working are her eyes, but even they seem to want to tear away from the alicorn mare.

When the party is next to Applejack, the new mare looks down at her, her expression neutral for everyone but Applejack. She sees the look of pity and disappointment in her eyes. It is so obvious to Applejack that the new mare might as well have been on the nose about her feelings.

“Applejack, it has been a while,” says the new mare, her voice motherly and calm.

Applejack blinks. “Uh, I beg your pardon, but I don't think I know you.”

“I wouldn't expect you to remember me. You were barely able to walk when we met. But I am Celestia Faustmaiden, Queen of Armonia, and I knew your father and mother personally.”

“You knew my parents?” asks Applejack, wanting to be skeptical, but she sees no hint of deception in Celestia's eyes.

Celestia nods. “Orin and Honeycrisp were among the finest ponies I knew, and when I heard of the news in Everfree, I...” Celestia looks down, sighing and demeanor sinking. “I cannot describe it. Words will only make what I have felt and still feel monotoned and insincere. But, some of the burden has been lifted seeing you here, alive, in my kingdom.”

Applejack turns away from Celestia to look at the landscape, not finding the words she wants to say, much less the air to use them if she had any. Her throat has gotten tight and her lips tremble as her vision blurs. Not even blinking can clear her eyes and her heart becomes a burden in her chest.

“Why didn't you help us?” asks Applejack quietly, barely able to look at the Queen.

“We are observers, not peacekeepers,” says Celestia after a pause. “We only interfere with the affairs of this world with the explicit permission of Mother, and as much as it pains me, she told us not to interfere with the trials of Everfree.”

“Why?”

“I wish I knew, but She has a purpose for every decision, and I promise you that while your family faces this darkness, there is a purpose behind it, and you survived for a reason. What that reason is, I do not know, but I do know that Her plans for you go beyond Davenport's boat. But, you and your family are welcomed to stay here for shelter if you wish.”

Applejack averts her eyes to the alicorn washing her feet, sniffling and wiping her eyes.

“I am all the family I have left,” says Applejack.

Twilight groans in her hands, and then she exhales slowly and runs her hands up her face and through her mane, exposing her bloodshot eyes and leaving her greasy mane a mess. She looks at the dozens of scrolls in front of her on the large table she has taken in the back of the library. All of the scrolls are written in ancient alicornian with pictures depicting demons, runic circles, rituals, ingredients and anatomy charts, but she cannot think straight. Worry of her brother and Apple Bloom and Twist are heavy on her mind, and as much as she wants to be optimistic and believe that they are on their way, she knows Granny Smith has a point. The Wild is no place for a Foaling, and Shining Armor is not as skilled as he once was, and they were tasked with transporting the most dangerous artifact ever created across the ponylands with Sombra's bloodthirsty, ruthless agents on their trail.

“I'm such an idiot,” says Twilight.

She sniffs and moves some of the scrolls aside and pulls up a scroll depicting a drawing of the gauntlet on Trixie's arm. The notes are only useful in reminding her of what it looked like, and that is it made of iron and emeralds. However, right as she pushes it aside, she sees out of the corner of her eye, a picture of a full body and armored Sombra fighting Celestia and an old unicorn stallion with a beard. The two opponents are also armored from head to toe. Sombra has a spear with a curves blade that has a barbed back and star tip, and Celestia and the stallion are armed with just swords. Below the picture is a description, explaining the final battle between Celestia and Starswirl against Sombra, in which Sombra's arm was cut off by Celestia before being beheaded by Starswirl. And with closer inspection of the picture, Twilight realizes that the gauntlet Sombra is wearing in the picture is the exact same gauntlet in Trixie's possession. This connection sucks the air out of Twilight's lungs and she slumps in her chair, rubbing her temple.

“What in the world is going on?” wonders Twilight.

“Twilight?”

Twilight turns and gasps with a big smile, then almost knocks the chair over when she hops out and hugs the source of the voice, regardless of the guards around her.

“Queen Celestia! I'm so glad to see you!” says Twilight.

Celestia smiles and returns the hug. “I'm glad to see you have awoken. I knew I would find you here.” She releases Twilight and holds her by her shoulders. “We have much catching up to do, but not as much as you need a bath. You're filthy.”

“And stink like dung,” says Eulabir.

Celestia and Twilight frown at him, but he remains unaffected.

“That was rude,” says Twilight.

“I'm a rude pony,” says Eulabir.

“I noticed.”

“Behave, you two,” chides Celestia. “Eulabir, why don't you meet with your brother and prepare for the Night Watch?”

Eulabir tightens his hold on his blade. “But, Your Majesty, there could be assassins lurking. Or worse. The pink one.”

Celestia sighs patiently. “I can handle both just fine. You and your guards are dismissed. I need to have a word with my pupil in private, anyway.”

Without releasing his hold, Eulabir bows, and the other guards follow suit.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

He does an about face and waves his guard forward, and all of them leave without a word. Once they are out of sight, Celestia sighs with relief, her shoulders sagging and a content smile spreading.

“Finally. Have a seat, Twilight,” says Celestia.

Twilight nods and sits down, and fidgets in her spot with beads of sweat trailing down her neck while her mentor sits across from her, nose wrinkled and eyes watering slightly. The alicorn summons a parchment, pen and ink and then she scribbles on the page and has it vanish with a puff of gold dust.

“Is something wrong, Celestia?” asks Twilight.

“You smell really bad,” says Celestia.

Twilight's ears droop with her shoulders. “Oh. I'm sorry.”

Celestia waves her hand dismissively. “Not to worry. I just sent mail to the Open Skies Bathhouse, so when we're done, your bath should be ready.”

Twilight looks down, not really sure how she should feel about her mentor using instant mail to have a bath prepared for her.

“Anyway, Twilight, is there something you want to tell me?” says Celestia as she scans the open scrolls. “Perhaps something about an ancient evil awakening to bring darkness back into the land and Trixie betraying us?”

Twilight swallows, even though her mouth has gone dry. “Yes... The Amulet of the King has awoken and Sombra has blackmailed Trixie into joining his army.”

“And where is the Amulet, now?”

“I don't know. I gave it to a Foaling named Apple Bloom and sent her to Breeze to meet Shining for protection on the road to here, but Trixie imprisoned me before I could meet up with them and I haven't heard or seen them since. Do you think Sombra got to them?”

“I don't know, but it was foolish of you to entrust something as dangerous as the Amulet of the King to a Foaling. It would be a miracle if this Apple Bloom you speak of walks into Armonia with the Amulet.”

Twilight nibbles her lip and averts her gaze, the weight of disappointment weighing on her mind and heart. She only barely lifts her eyes when Celestia takes the scroll depicting Sombra's gauntlet and inspects the picture.

“As for Trixie, what makes you say she was blackmailed?” asks Celestia. “She is a black magic enthusiast, so I am certain she willingly joined Sombra in exchange for knowledge.”

“Trixie found a Seeing-Stone and what I believe to be Sombra's gauntlet in the Crystal Mountains, and he used those to possess her somehow. He is playing off of her fears, and she thinks joining him will save her home from his wrath,” says Twilight.

“I see.”

“But there's more than just the Amulet and Trixie.”

Celestia lowers the scroll slightly to look at Twilight quizzically.

“The changelings are being unified under the leadership of someone who calls himself Malerabus and he has joined with Sombra, as well,” says Twilight. “He claims to be a direct descendant of Chrysalis, but I thought her bloodline and all the changelings were killed. So, where did he come from?”

Celestia exhales slowly and closes the scroll just as slow. “Chrysalis did not die after the Nightmare War.”

Twilight's heart spikes. “What?”

“She was injured by Prince Buck in the tundra outside Mount Dread when he led the armies of Everfree against her,” says Celestia, now putting the scroll back, “but she fled with the remnants of her army, which secured our victory against Sombra. Later, I gave chase to her all the way to the Badlands while the other nations purged their lands of changelings. But when I had her and her changelings surrounded with my army, I could not kill them.”

“But the records said you annihilated them with a fire storm spell.”

“I lied,” says Celestia, her tone sharp, thus leading Twilight to recoil. “When I confronted the last of the changelings they were broken and terrified. Mares, stallions, colts, fillies, old, young, all of them sick and starved and barely able to make so much a spear out of twine and twigs and shields out of bark. Then Chrysalis came out, and I saw that she was not the monster I knew.”

Celestia's eyes become distant and her fingers trace over the open scrolls on the table with no particular pattern in sight, only to become disappointed when she does not find what she is looking for.

“Her eyes were lifeless, her armor was falling apart, her body was frail, and she had no weapon,” says Celestia when she stops her search. “She had only her one hand and a limp. And she knelled in front of me and begged me to let her changelings live in exchange for her head, and that is when I saw it.”

“Saw what?” asks Twilight.

Celestia blinks and turns away from Twilight to look at the wall of scrolls, her distant eyes reddening and glazing over. “Tears. She was no longer the monster who waged war against the ponylands. She was a weak, broken queen who saw her people slaughtered in droves and was unable to stop it. She was a leader who saw the only way to save what was left of her race was to offer her life. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to kill her, even when she sobbed at my feet and begged me to do it her so her people could live. I couldn't do it.”

“I let her live and she died of an infection later that week, and after that, what was left of the changelings scattered. I told the kings and queens of the ponylands that Chrysalis and the remaining changelings were killed by my hands and I had their bodies incinerated. They bought it and the genocide of the changelings was applauded for its success.”

Celestia sighs and blinks tears out of her eyes.

“But, now it seems that we will soon pay for the nightmare we inflicted upon the changelings. Do you know anything else about Malerabus, other than he is a changeling?”

Twilight nods. “When we met, he was dressed as an Everfree military officer, with a dark blue coat and a white and green mane. He had gold eyes when he revealed himself, which is odd since I always read that changelings always had blue eyes.”

With the mentioning of the eye color, Twilight notices a slight twitch from Celestia's muscles and eye, but she says nothing about it.

“That is odd,” says Celestia after a short pause. She then stands up and runs her hands down the length of her skirt, yawning. “Why don't you get cleaned up, Twilight? We can discuss more of these trying problems tomorrow when we are rested and clean.”

“But, Celestia-”

Celestia clamps her hands behind her back and starts walking, and she speaks without looking at her pupil. “Take a bath and go to bed, Twilight. You can use them.”

Twilight holds out her hand and calls Celestia again, but the alicorn queen has already rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, leaving the unicorn alone.

A moment later, Twilight sighs and drops her hand and looks down. “I don't smell that bad.”

“Yes, you do,” says Celestia, her head poking around the corner, which makes Twilight yelp and clutch her fast beating heart. The queen then chuckles and points at the table Twilight used. “Sorry, but I just wanted to remind you put those scrolls back where you found them before you take your bath. I know how old habits die hard, especially with you.”

Twilight smiles uneasily and rubs the back of her neck, blushing and looking at the mess. “Right. I'll take care of that.”

“Thank you. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

Celestia disappears from view again and Twilight's smile fades, and she sighs and turns to the mess.

“Crap.”

Close to an hour later, Twilight is enjoying a hot bubble bath in the Open Skies Bathhouse, and just the way she likes it. Alone with a lot of bubbles and steam. With no on else around, Twilight is free to enjoy the scenery of the marble statues, listen to the gentle splashing and falling of water from the fountains, and marvel at the night sky that she can see thanks to the open roof.

In just the few short minutes Twilight has spent in the large tub built into the ground, she has felt months of dirt, sweat and grease break away from her. The body odor that came with them has faded, also. Twilight has always tried cleaning herself as much as she can in the Wild and in places she and Spike has stayed, but she always washed herself quick out of paranoia of someone walking in on her, leaving much to be cleaned. Really, she only gets a good wash when she is in Armonia or Canterlot, where she has privacy and can wash herself without having to worry about anybody barging in on her.

Knowing that she is safe, has privacy, and can really get herself cleaned, Twilight sighs with a smile and sinks in the water until just her head is poking above the bubbles.

And then she hears it.

Feet slapping against the stone like someone is running right towards her.

With her ears flicking and eyes opening to an annoyed scowl, she turns, keeping her body under the water, ready to scold the intruder. But instead of angry words, Twilight's eyes bulge from the sight of the last mare she wanted to see, stark naked and running straight towards the pool.

“CATAPULT!” hollers the terrifyingly familiar mare.

As much as Twilight screams and waves her hands, Pinkie Pie still leaps in the air, curls up in a ball and splashes right next to the unicorn. Upon her landing, a circle of black floats up to corrupt the bubbly water. Seconds later, Pinkie Pie pops her head out of the water, gasping for air and flinging sparkling water from throwing her soaking mane back the sudden cleansing.

“Wow, that was not smart. My butt hurts, now,” says Pinkie Pie.

Twilight stares at Pinkie Pie, wide eyed and has her legs crossed over each other with her hands covering her chest. She looks past the Ranger's shoulder and sees her clothes rolled up in a ball next to the bath with a spare set of towels. How that was missed is beyond her.

“What?” asks Pinkie Pie.

Twilight looks at the menace and slides back from her, frowning and blushing. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking a bath.”

“But why here? There are twelve other unused baths and you picked this one!”

“You looked sad, and nothing cheers up a moody pony like a bath partner.” Pinkie Pie leans closer to Twilight and whispers loudly: “Between you and me, I think stallions really like having mares as bath partners.”

Twilight growls and pushes against Pinkie Pie, splashing water in the process and folding her ears back as the Ranger snickers and lets her use her minuscule strength against her.

“Go away. I'm trying to relax,” says Twilight through her teeth.

“Oh, I can help you relax. I know quite a bit of tricks I picked up on the road,” claims Pinkie Pie brightly. She stretches out her fingers and adds with a toothy smile: “One of which is a fancy massage my cellmate taught me when I was in a deer prison.”

Twilight slides back. “Okay, I really don't need your help to relax.”

Pinkie Pie slides closer. “You sure?”

Twilight slides back. “Very sure.”

Pinkie Pie slides closer. “How very sure?”

Twilight huffs angrily. “Look, since you are too feather-headed to figure out the obvious, I'm going to tell you as plainly as possible. Go. Away. I don't need your help to relax. I can relax just fine, and I was actually relaxing and recuperating very well with my bubble bath until you showed up with your stupid prison claim!”

The two mares stare at each other, with Twilight seething and her dirty water boiling, and Pinkie Pie having a completely blank face. And so they remain, silent in their stare down, until the pink mare's blank look twists into a naughty grin.

“So, do you wanna know what I learned in prison?” says Pinkie Pie.

Twilight yells and launches her hands out, ready to wring the life out of the mare's neck, but her hands remain grabbing at the air. However, with Twilight's hands in such a perfect spot, Pinkie Pie snatches her wrists and pulls herself closer to her so that their chests are squished together and muzzles almost touching. Twilight's face ignites into a deep purple as her body stiffens and burns up from embarrassment while Pinkie Pie's breath tickles her nose.

“Now we're getting somewhere,” says Pinkie Pie.

Before Twilight says anything, the Ranger spins her in the water so that her back is against her chest. Then she grabs her slender shoulders and wraps her legs tightly around her waist and brings her muzzle by Twilight's ear.

“You really do need to relax, Princess. Being as uptight as you are can lead to some health problems, and the last thing we need is a future queen with a poor heart,” says Pinkie Pie.

“What are you doing?” says Twilight, her ear twitching and body trembling from Pinkie Pie's breath and grip.

Pinkie Pie chuckles. “I'm going to make you relax.”

Twilight wants to say something about the disturbing direction of the conversion, but she gasps when her uninvited bathing partner starts kneading her shoulders. It feels amazing to her, feeling those large earth pony fingers and palms moving along her shoulders and rubbing her spine. Twilight really cannot figure out how to classify them, other than amazing. From how well the fingers roll and press away at her back, Twilight can feel her tense muscles loosening and a strange sense of relaxation moving in and chasing away her guarded state.

“And just so we are on even ground about the feather-head thing, I should let you know that my memory is pretty sharp and I got a great set of eyes and ears, too,” says Pinkie Pie. “Eyes of a hawk and ears of a fox is what my Papa Pie used to say!”

“Uh huh,” mutters Twilight, not entirely convinced, but relaxation has rushed leaving no room for her to voice her skepticism.

“Don't believe me? I'll prove it. But I'll prove it with the memory thing since I really can't do the hawk-eye, fox-ear thing right now. But first chance we get, give me a fancy scroll with lots of big words, let me read it for five seconds and I'll recite everything I just read without looking at it.”

Pinkie Pie presses her palms against Twilight's shoulder blades and rolls them slow and hard, and the tension in her muscles crumble like an old wall, making the unicorn roll her head back against the Ranger in a state of bliss. With her head finding a nice spot on the earth pony's shoulder, Twilight stares at the stars above, amazed at how peaceful the sky looks and how muscular Pinkie Pie is underneath her damp, pink coat. She always knew earth ponies were the strongest of the pony races, but this is the first time that she actually got intimate with one. So far her biggest regret about tonight's strange situation is that it was not a handsome earth pony stallion doing this to her.

“Nopony reads that fast,” says Twilight airily, barely remembering that Pinkie Pie spoke to her, and she makes another approving groan when the earth pony's fingers knead the muscles on her shoulders and feels her breath switch ears.

“You do,” points out Pinkie Pie, gently moving Twilight's head so she is off of her shoulder and staring at the dissolving bubbles. “You're a very fast reader. Probably the fastest in all of Equestria.”

“But nopony can memorize anything in five seconds.”

Pinkie Pie flashes a grin and gently runs her palms along Twilight's shoulders, up her neck and back down to her shoulders again, saying in a husky, but confident tone: “I can.”

She then leans really close and gently tilts Twilight's head so the Princess is looking at the night sky again. Twilight's eyes are droopy and lost in bliss, and Pinkie Pie guides her hands down the unicorn's body, barely touching her on their trip down. The Ranger's fingers travel down the Princess's shoulders, traces the slender muscles of her arms, and then it slithers around until it is under her armpits. From there, they snake along her sides, lightly cupping the sides of her breasts.

Twilight gasps, and her face warms up again as her mouth moves to scold Pinkie Pie, but no words come out. And when they are given a small squeeze, Twilight moans out Pinkie Pie's names and grabs her legs.

“You wanna see what else I can do?” asks Pinkie Pie, her fingers dancing along the round edges of Twilight's chest and uncaring of the grip on her legs.

Twilight tries to answer, but again her voice does not work. All she can do is open and close her mouth while looking into the nothingness with a blurry vision and hot face.

“Twilight~” hums Pinkie Pie, giving the unicorn's chest another squeeze.

“Yes,” gasps Twilight.

Pinkie Pie smiles and slides her arm across Twilight's chest and presses her closer against her body so the unicorn's back squishes her chest. The Ranger's free hand then moves down the Princess's slim stomach to reach her thighs, raking the thin fur along the way. When the fingers go between her legs, Twilight exhales sharply and arches her back. Pinkie Pie then moves her arm down so she is holding Twilight by her stomach and rests her head on the crook of Twilight's neck, taking a deep sniff and closing her eyes. A tingle runs up Twilight's spine and lower body, and her fingers grip Pinkie Pie's muscled arms and claw at her wet mane, not wanting to let go for fear of the strange, but very pleasant feeling, leaving her.

“Are you sure?” asks Pinkie Pie, her voice low and smooth, and the water churning with the slow pumps of her arm.

“Yes.” Twilight's eyes are squeezed shut and her fingers dig into the Ranger as a wanting whine escapes her open mouth while Pinkie Pie keeps her pace. As this happens, Twilight's whole body, from loins to face, are hot, and her muscles stiffen as she kicks in the water, chest heaving from her heavy panting and a little bit of drool flowing from her mouth. “Please, yes! Please don't stop, please!”

Pinkie Pie suddenly stops, pushes Twilight away and swims to the edge of the bath. “Welp, too bad. I gotta go to bed.”

“Wait, what?”

Twilight spins in the water, creating frantic splashing as she watches Pinkie Pie roll out of the pool and throw on her clothes immediately after.

“Where are you going?” whines Twilight.

Pinkie Pie tugs her shirt down, which, due to her soaked state, clings to her figure, revealing all the curves of her chest, body, arms and shoulders. With her mane soaked, it hangs past one of her eyes in a dark pink clump, and she smiles at Twilight as she puts her pants on.

“Its late, and I gotta get to bed and relax a little since I carried you almost sixty miles,” says the Ranger. She stretches her arms to the sky, back turned to Twilight and groaning loudly. “Yeah, I really need to relax and take a nap. I'm all tense and everything from that workout.”

Twilight frowns and folds her arms across her chest as her legs press against each other, not in the least bit satisfied or amused by the teasing she was just put through for absolutely no reason. “But you can't go to bed leaving me like this.”

Pinkie Pie grabs a spare towel and starts patting her mane, holding her boots in her free hand. “Sure I can.”

“You are evil! What am I supposed to do, now?”

Pinkie Pie shrugs. “I don't know. Just find yourself a cutie and have some fun before you go to bed. Not that hard. For you, I would recommend one of the scribes. They're lonely, deprived and smell like paper, just like you.”

Twilight growls and clenches her fists and teeth as her face burns up from rage. “I'm not having sex with a random stallion!”

The echo of her voice is a quick indicator of how loud she was, and Twilight eeps, clamps her hands over her mouth and sinks into the water. Steam and bubbles rise from around her as her body heats up from embarrassment, and her ears droop and her eyes grow wide when Pinkie Pie flashes an amused toothless smirk at her while running her towel along her hair and neck.

“Then use your privacy,” says Pinkie Pie.

Behind her hands, Twilight's lips twist into an uncomfortable frown and her eyes narrow as her body warms the water to steam around her. The Ranger then kneels down by the edge of the pool, places her head on the top of her hands.

“Or you can go and find somebody that you can have fun with that isn't so random,” says Pinkie Pie deviously. “But that's just me. Enjoy your bath, Princess.”

Pinkie Pie then blows a kiss at Twilight, then she stands up, turns on her heels and walks down the hall, her feet making little wet slaps as they hit the stone walkway, with her humming a song to herself.

Twilight watches the Ranger until she is all the way down the hall, and once the crazy mare turns the corner, Twilight sighs, turns around and presses her back against the warm rocks. She feels more tense and needy than anything else, now, and that brings a huge frown to her. She was doing just fine until Pinkie Pie showed up and did the uncouth act of... that!

And she did not even have the decency to indulge her or finish what she started.

Twilight groans to herself and shifts her legs closer together, and after nervously looking around to make sure no one else is around, she brings her hands under the water and towards her lower body.

“I hate her,” grumbles Twilight.

“I heard that!” shouts Pinkie Pie from down the hall.

Twilight whips her head to down the hall, but doesn't see Pinkie Pie, anywhere. She watches the hall entrance, just waiting for the pink menace to arrive, but when the seconds get longer and the results no more fruitful than before, she submerges herself until her mouth is underwater, then she stares straight ahead and starts blowing bubbles. Very, very angry bubbles.

Spike takes brisk steps down the decorated walkway. The air is cool, the murals are beautiful and the night sky is perfection. There is just enough cloud cover to partially cover the moon and a few pockets of stars, but the rest reveals the spacious cosmos, displaying the countless stars as diamonds in the sky. On any day in the Wild, Spike would watch the night and try to find constellations with Twilight in their final moments of the day to relax. It usually ended up with them telling each other jokes or debating in a lighthearted manner. However, beautiful moments like those of before have no room in Spike's heart at the moment, for as of now, he is fuming.

The entrance to Armonia was not a big deal for him. Annoying? Yes. But every entrance is like that so he has grown used to it. And Celestia scolding him about forcing her to repair Davenport's aquatic transportation craft? That was a bit rough, but he does not really care about that. He did what he had to do to get himself and Twilight to Armonia, and maybe, just maybe, a repaired boat will curve Davenport's attitude in a positive way.

No, what Spike is upset about is how he was enjoying a nice evening with ravishing alicorn ladies that were giving him a massage, good food and fine wine. Only for them to be replaced by burly, mustachioed alicorn stallions with big arms, tight abs and a flare for poetry by the orders of a random guard. He has a feeling Twilight had something to do with it, but has not been able to find her all day to confirm his suspicions or make sure she is okay.

He did get a little distracted with the pampering, but last he saw her, she was in the infirmary. When he checked there again, she was not there. She was not at the library, either. And for reasons Spike cannot put his claw on, when he asked Granny Smith for help, she whacked him with her cane and stormed off as fast as a coot with a cane could, throwing insults at him the whole time.

As for Celestia? He cannot go to her because she has already gone to bed and is a heavy sleeper, and Luna is nowhere to be seen.

“Princess Luna is nocturnal, and like all things nocturnal, you will not see her unless she wants you to,” is what the night guard had told Spike when he asked about him.

Then there is Davenport and Applejack. They have taken residence in a room by the river, overlooking the boat, which will take a few days to complete, according to the dockworkers. Naturally, the two have not seen Twilight ever since the boat incident, but they both cleaned up rather nicely and Spike hates to admit it, but when Davenport is clean, he looks sharp. Applejack looks brand new with her own sense of rustic beauty, too. But the mare's stature is still crushed, weary and wary.

Knowing that he has only one other person left to help him find Twilight, Spike gets a knot in his gut and an uneasy feeling in his chest. He even throws out a quick prayer to Faust, begging Her to lead him to Twilight before he has to deal with the certain pony and her insanity.

But, lo and behold, right in the middle of his mental prayer, he hears a familiar voice humming a song, and he ducks behind a carved pillar. He peeks out a couple of seconds later and sees Pinkie Pie strolling down the walkway with a saunter, barefoot and patting her mane with a towel, and her coat tied around her waist with her gear on her back. Her whole body is still wet for the most part, so her airy shirt and old pants are sticking to her and amplifying her chest and thighs, and her flat tail brushes the stone walkway, leaving a shimmering trail of water. With each pat of her towel leaves her mane slightly more airy than before, but parts still cling to her neck and face, partially covering one of her eyes. It is an alluring sight, but Spike has no time to gawk and he ducks back in place, trying to think of what to say.

It takes Spike a few seconds to agree with himself that simple is best, and when he looks around the pillar again, he sees only Pinkie Pie's boots and gear in the middle of the walkway and realizes that her humming has stopped. Spike narrows his eyes at the strange sight and grips the pillar tighter when he attempts to locate the Ranger, but-

“Rat tail!” blurts Pinkie Pie, right as a sharp pain stabs his rump, causing Spike to yelp and leap with his hands covering the whipped spot.

He turns, growling, hands still on his butt, and glares at Pinkie Pie as she giggles and unwinds her towel.

“Ow! What was that for?” says Spike.

“For spying on me,” replies Pinkie Pie, now tossing the towel over her shoulder.

“You, the mare that spied on me and Twilight for months, are complaining about me spying on you for a few seconds?”

“What? A bargain priced odd-job extraordinaire is not allowed to feel violated by being spied on by the people she's spying on?”

Spike says nothing, and Pinkie Pie smiles and brushes some of her mane away from her face.

“So, why are you spying on me?” says Pinkie Pie.

“I just wanted to know where Twilight was,” said Spike, wincing and rubbing his rump with tender care. “Why did you have to whip me so hard?”

Pinkie Pie puts on a pout. “You mean you don't want to know who wanted me to spy on you and why?”

“Well... I, uh, I guess I do, but I really need to find Twilight first, then I can pester you about you spying on us.”

“Oh, Twilight's fine. I just got finished taking a bath with her,” says Pinkie Pie shrewdly. Then she grins and playfully nudges Spike's ribs. “That massage really loosened her up, too, if you know what I mean.”

Spike's eyes expand in shock and his mouth clamps up as some very uncouth thoughts enter his mind. Thoughts such as seeing Twilight bathing with another mare. Possibly some splashing and giggling to go with it. But he quickly shakes that thought away since he knows Twilight will never do something like that. Of all the years he has known the Princess, privacy and personal space are high on her list. The most she'll let anyone willingly touch her is if they are giving hugs or helping her climb a stubborn rise. All other violations of personal space is a call for a scolding or slap.

“But, you know what? Since I had some fun with Twilight, I think you need some fun, too. It's only fair,” adds Pinkie Pie.

Before Spike can formulate a word, Pinkie Pie wraps her hand around his shoulder, grabs the back of his neck with her other hand, then slinks her leg around his waist and uses her free leg to push him off balance. The two spin, and Spike yells from surprise and places his palm against the pillar they land against, with Pinkie Pie squished between him and the stone structure. Her wet chest and waist is pressed against his body, and he feels a panic attack coming in from how fast his heart is beating and how dry his mouth has become.

He is used to mare giving him some attention. Maybe a hug, a quick feel of his amazing muscles or a poke at his spines. He also enjoyed the massages he got before the muscled stallions took over, but this is a different kind of attention, and he really wishes there was an adult around to help him out of it.

“So, now that you know about Twilight, what questions does the handsome dragon have?” says Pinkie Pie with lewd smile and her finger delicately tracing Spike's chin, neck and collar.

“Uh... Well, um...” Spike tries to pull away by pushing against the pillar and pulling at her thigh, but she tightens her grip and forces his snout to almost touch her muzzle, giving him an up close look of her lascivious smile. Remembering that earth ponies are notoriously strong, he realizes that he is stuck until Pinkie Pie releases him, and speaking of the pink loony, her smile has widened. He does not like that. “Can you let go, please?”

“It depends. Do you want to interrogate me, or do you want to run away and continue wondering what I am doing stalking you and Princess Twilight?”

Spike opens him mouth, then closes it and looks down, giving him a view of her wet, pink furred breasts pressed against him, which he quickly averts his eyes to the curved ceiling above.

“Which one will let me go so we can talk like normal people?” asks Spike anxiously.

“Oh, Spike,” coos Pinkie Pie, “what made you think I was normal?”

Spike is once again speechless, and now his mouth feels like someone poured sand in it while a very uncomfortable amount of beats of his heart bang inside his chest. Then Pinkie Pie suddenly throws her head back and moans loudly, with her fingers now digging into Spike's shoulders, her legs holding him against her all the tighter and her body grinding against his. Two particular parts rub against his groin and chest, and that sends his heart into a beating frenzy as his flowing blood tries to figure out where to go. It wins at his head, though, since panic starts pouring in, especially when she looks back at him with a drunken smile, droopy eyes and a tongue hanging out of her mouth as she pants hard.

“What are you-” Spike stops and out of the corner of his eye, he sees a bat-like alicorn guard looking at them from the hall entrance, his expression almost completely neutral, save for an unimpressed, raised brow. Spike's jaw drops and he stammers as his eyes dart between the guard and Pinkie Pie while he struggles to free himself from the mare's powerful grip. “Oh! Oh, no! No! This is not what it looks like!”

“Yes it is. Can we get some privacy, please?” says Pinkie Pie, faking her ragged panting as her hand rubs Spike's neck and shoulder lovingly.

The alicorn guard holds up both of his hands and backs away, his head tilted down so his eyes are focusing on the fine craftsmanship of the floor. He then briskly walks out of sight, and Pinkie Pie and Spike wait for a few seconds just to make sure he does not come back for a peek before they look at each other again, with the former grinning and the latter glaring.

“You are insane,” says Spike.

“So I've been told,” purrs Pinkie Pie, moving her finger along his jaw and neck again. “But now we got real privacy since there's no way that guard will let others near us. So, what do you want to know that I know?”

“You do realize that your stunt may draw us a crowd that will be very disappointed when they find out that it was all an act,” counters Spike sharply.

Pinkie Pie rolls her eyes with a dismissive sigh. “He's an alicorn. He's got too much honor to go blurting to his friends about this get together. But even if he does tell, they will guard the area to make sure nopony walks in, wait until we're done, then drag us to Celestia or Luna so they can scold us for being indecent and not using the bedroom. Jail time might be included.”

Spike stops struggling and scrunches his eye ridges, not really liking the idea of going to jail because of Pinkie Pie. “Have you done this before?”

Pinkie Pie grins and moves the tip of her finger down Spike's chest, her grin becoming more devious when he gulps. “Oh, yeah. But enough with the boring talk. Interrogate me, oh mighty dragon.”

Luna sits in the middle of a circular atrium, dressed in her purple dress and silver armor. Her eyes closed, legs crossed over each other and her sword resting on her lap and held in place by her hands. Her blade gleams in the moonlight, and the stars reflect off of its surface as though she has trapped a piece of the sky inside her blade. But while her eyes may be closed and her head bowed, she is not able to relax. None can hear the screams of men and women, old and young, nor can they hear the sobs and begs of children and parents. They do not hear the whispers floating through each dreamscape, promising them slow deaths and painful final memories.

No one hears such things.

No one sees the burning villages, the hanging bodies, the mutilations, decapitations, murders, mercy killings and suicides. They do not see the feet dangling and swinging back and forth, back and forth, left to right, left to ride, twirl, back and forth. They do not see the talking heads on pikes, begging for death or the children mauled.

No one sees such things.

All they hear is Luna's steady breaths, and all they see is her sitting in the center of an atrium, eyes closed and surrounded by bowing alicorn statues with outstretched wings and swords in their mantels. If they look closer, then they will see her hands flexing and her closed lids twitching.

But for now, no one sees her, no one hears her, and that is how she prefers it. Exposure only when she is needed, or when she needs to move. So far her meditation has gone on for thirty five days, but she feels as though she has gone nowhere.

The nightmares keep coming despite her best efforts and her conversation with Starswirl was a waste of time. For months, the nightmares have been attacking the minds and spirits of everyone in the pony lands, but Luna finds it remarkable that Foalington has not been effected by the surge. Everywhere else, however, is like trying to stop a flood with a bucket. Unicornia, Everfree, the Pegasi Tribes, the Wild, and everywhere else is an ocean of despair that is drowning everyone, and all Luna can do is watch them die. One. By. One.

“Luna, my sweet Luna, what troubles you?” echoes a malicious, feminine voice in the chamber.

Luna's ear flicks and her eyes and hands squeeze tighter when she feels a soft, cold brush of air go by her with long fingers trailing her shoulders and gently brushing her scalp. A shiver goes up the alicorn's spine, but she remains still and keeps her eyes closed.

“Is it all those nightmares?” asks the voice, knowingly mocking Luna.

“The nightmares do not trouble Us,” says Luna.

The voice tuts and stops in front of Luna. “You always were a liar.”

“Says the one who deceived me, Nightmare Moon.”

Luna opens her eyes, and she glares at the figure before her. She is bigger than Luna in height and build, but she does not have feathery wings. Instead she has leathery bat wings, and her fur is near pitch black with purple eye liner to compliment her icy blue, reptilian eyes. Her outfit is similar to Luna's, with the purple dress underneath her silver armor, but the dress is torn, revealing her legs and thighs, and she is wearing bladed gloves and boots, and has armed herself with a halberd that has a serrated edge on its curved blade. She is not wearing a helmet, though, she her starry mane floats behind her, much like her tail, and she looks down at Luna with a toothy, sharp fanged smile that reflects the moonlight.

“See? Even now you lie,” says Nightmare Moon, and then she starts pacing around Luna, keeping her gaze focused on her, watching with a sick smile as Luna sits on the floor, trying to stay still. “I never deceived you. You wanted power. Respect. Love.”

Nightmare Moon stops and kneels in front of Luna, and gently grabs her cheek, both alicorns never changing their expressions.

“I said I could give you such things, and I did, did I not?” says Nightmare Moon.

“You used Us to obtain knowledge to create the Alicorn Amulet for Sombra,” says Luna.

“But you got what you wanted. You had your power and commanded legions of Condemned, and you had the respect of those you commanded and the love of Sombra.”

Luna jumps to her feet, eyes flashing white and sword at the ready to strike down the demon in front of her.

“That was all you!” shouts Luna, her eyes hot with tears. “You took my body and made me your puppet! The Condemned respected you and was under your control, and Sombra only kept you around as his prized whore! You and he both used my body as your plaything!”

“And it was fun,” says Nightmare Moon.

Luna roars and brings the blade down on Nightmare Moon, striking her on her collar and bringing her down. She instantly feels a sharp pain slice past her skin, though, and she drops to a knee, wincing and gripping her collar, and when she pulls her hand away, her eyes widen at the red staining her palm. She looks at Nightmare Moon and sees her snickering while she grips her injury, which is dripping blood.

“Stupid alicorn,” says Nightmare Moon as she pushes herself up, still holding her wound. “I am a part of you, and you go and hurt yourself when I speak the truth. But, you are weak. You barely scratched me, but nearly slit your own throat doing it.”

Nightmare Moon's palm shoots out and crashes into Luna's chest, sending her airborne and crashing a few feet away and sliding back a few more feet. Luna's skull feels like a broken vase, and her back and limbs ache as she winces and rolls to her side. That is when Luna sees her sword laying a few paces away from her, but when she tries to get up, Nightmare Moon jumps on her back, squishing Luna's smaller body between her superior weight and the rough, stone floor.

A sharp cry of pain is squeezed out of Luna, and her hand stretches out to her sword while her horn glows, covering her weapon in her aura. However, the magic is draining her. Her head starts hurting and sweat coats her fur, matting her light azure mane sticks to her forehead and neck. When the sword lifts, she can barely breathe and beads of sweat drip from her muzzle, and her outstretched hand shakes. Then, Nightmare Moon snarls and kicks Luna on her back, and then she stomps on her stomach, and the Princess jerks and curls under the blow, coughing and trying to gulp in air.

“Pitiful,” sneers Nightmare Moon. She pulls away from Luna, grabs her sword and starts pacing around her as she inspects the weapon. “I can hurt you all I want without trouble because, unlike you, I am strong and can withstand it in body and mind. You? You dress as a warrior princess, but are nothing but a disgrace. A cowardly peasant bearing the dull fangs of an old dog.”

Nightmare Moon kicks Luna in the muzzle, turning on her on her back again with a face covered in blood, and then she steps on Luna's chest and presses down on her. Nightmare Moon's muzzle now has bright red scratches, as well, but she appears to be unaffected by it, and when she extends her hand, her halberd shimmers into view and she spins so the blade it aimed down before gripping it tight.

When the demon smiles, her teeth and the blade of the halberd reflect off of the moonlight, and Nightmare Moon raises her weapon up, laughing as Luna grunts and fights in vain to free herself. Each passing second makes Luna's situation all the more hopeless, and when Nightmare Moon presses her boot down harder, Luna gasps for air and holds back the need to cry out when she feels her ribs snapping. Then her lungs start to fill with blood and travel up her throat when the broken rips stab inside her, and she looks up at Nightmare Moon when she cackles with ice bleeding out from the darkness.

“But you don't have to pretend, anymore, Luna. You can stop fighting and give in, for the Nightmare is coming,” says Nightmare Moon.

And then she brings the halberd down and-

Luna jolts awake in the center of the atrium, dressed in her purple dress and silver armor, legs crossed over each other and her sword resting on her lap and held in place by her hands. She is sweating and shaking, and trails of red flow down her polished blade and drip to the floor. With no one around, and no animal or bug for ambiance, all Luna hears is is her shaking breaths and drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

When Luna pulls her fingers off, she winces and inspects the line of deep cuts that have soaked her palms in crimson. After a quick swallow, Luna nervously lights up her horn and her wounds seal shut instantly, and another burst of magic cleans the red stains from her attire, her weapon, and the floor.

Relieved that her magic has worked, Luna sighs and sulks her shoulders as she wipes her sweaty mane back.

“It was just a nightmare,” murmurs Luna quietly. She takes yet another deep breath, adjusts her position, and then places her blade on her lap and closes her eyes once more, trying in vain to stop her shakes. “Just a nightmare.”