Author's Notes:

Spoiler warning: contains info from 'Day of the Doctor' movie

It was under crimson skies, Hell’s horizon, that the engines of war utilized by Khorne’s immortal armies were forged. The very land and sky battled one another, lightning and wind striking the earth, ripping up mountains into the air and dropping them miles away in meteoric crashes, while the ground quaked and spewed geysers of molten brass skyward, burning away the very storm clouds until the winds gathered anew.

At the feet of the range of innumerable volcanoes which made up Khorne's Rage, the workshops and mills ran without cease, pounding and shaping iron on anvils of entrapped souls who writhed under the scorching heat of fired steel. On some occasions, a volcanic eruption would bury or incinerate the mills under tons of ash and brass, but to the Master, it was of little consequence as more daemons would spawn from the blood pits and rebuild. From these workshops the tools of Khorne’s eternal wars were cast; hammers, axes, even living daemon-engines, the Juggernauts, and skull cannons.

“Faster! Faster!”

The sound of the call was lost among the commotion of the furnace-daemons already at work. Dozens of the jibbering creatures were at the pulley chains, hauling up the final piece of a great statue, with a head whose hair was a thousand wrought iron chains, ending in a thousand barbed hooks. It was hoisted up to neck level with a tremendous four-legged body where other daemons were pouring over every detail like army ants, carving in runes and welding on embellishments to their lord. The workshop floor was showered by the sparks of their rabid labor whilst another squadron of winged daemons pushed the head into place, docking it with the neck and getting to work melding the two together with white-hot claws.

The foreman oversaw the attachment of a wide pair of wings spanning from wall to wall, and after their addition, climbed up the jungle of chains and surveyed the creation from on high.

His parody of a mortal face grinned, but it quickly vanished when the vast body beneath him began to lean. “Balance! Get it upright!” Grabbing up his whip, he hurled the leathery tongue at the pulley operators. Lengthening itself, the rope easily pierced the skull of one, and with its barb, caught and tore at the chest of the daemon behind him before snapping in anger. The others paid no heed to their dead and wounded, and made up for the loss with tireless bodies.

The instant the foreman felt it begin to be corrected, he screeched, “Onto the conveyor!” to which another gaggle of winged creatures scrambled to the ceiling, grasping at chains and hooking them about the iron statue's joints. “Up! Up! UP!” Immediately after another crack of the whip, it was hoisted up off the ground while the driver of a massive cart goaded his thrashing, snarling beasts of burden underneath it.

The hoisting daemons held whilst the carrier groaned to a halt, then lowered it on to the cart which strained under the sudden, sheer tonnage. With an air of madness about him and slavering jaws, the driver screamed, “On! On with all your strength! Kharneth will see the Red Angel return!”

The beasts roared and snorted, setting off under the yoke through the workshop’s widening doors. With this creation complete and on its way, the landed workers immediately set about other tasks in the factory, never thinking of their previous work again.

The daemonic haulers made great speed up a millennia-old ramp, carved in the side of the volcanic slope by sheer wear of repeated trips up and down. Winged daemons by the dozen were pushing at the back of the statue, preventing it from falling over and lightening the load for the cart. Through the ash-rain they came to the rim, coming abreast with the yellow, bubbling lake below. With frantic wings the daemons pushed the statue over, toppling it into the the gaping maw of the volcano.

With a tremendous splash like a rock, it sank, the bubbling magma consuming the snarling wrinkles of its face to the cheers and hollers of the daemons.

Out of the fire, but into the frying pan. Took all day for Screwball to find the keys to the trap door out of her hat, and where were they? Inside her own skull! And now these things are growing back in.

Twilight winnowed through a dresser drawer. Each time she failed to find the right item, the drawer was punished with a harder slam than the last.

“Nothing to file these with?” she grunted irritatedly. “Ah, here!” Sheathed in her lavender magic, a heavy hoof file shot out of the drawer. She leaned forward, closer to the mirror and parting her mane, examining the large bump of white bone bulging out of her temple.

“Ah, magic, how I missed you…” While filing them down, some familiar niggles in her memory came back to bug her. She wondered if any semblance of normality could be restored, if her friends could live with some security, but not prisoners. And the Doctor; why didn’t he know that mutations were irreversible? Was he not as knowledgeable as he led on, or did he have something else in mind?

With a few last zipping swipes, she had a good pile of bone dust on the counter which, having been separated from her daemonic body, popped and fizzed, bubbling away into nothingness. Even the residue on the file burned itself to ash, and the ashes turned into vapor.

Let’s recap, shall we, Twilight? she thought at the reflection in the mirror. You’re helping harbor an accidental mass murderer, Queen Chrysalis is bigger and more powerful than ever, claiming to be on our side— and quad-wielding chitin-katanas… How do things like that even happen, anyway? Screwball is on the fence about having just saved or kidnapped Fluttershy, virtually everything you know about your family may be a lie, and Rarity… I wish she would have stuck around a bit longer, not just take off as quick as I found her. Where did Screwball say she was taking Fluttershy; the park? It’d do her some good, for sure. Some calm and nature. But we have to tell her sometime, and get our friends out of custody… and find out what to do with Applejack’s family and the others…

With a flap of her wings, she launched back, falling with an exasperated sigh on the bed behind her. It was too much for one mind to handle alone, and no doubt Shining Armor and Celestia had their noses to the grindstone on it as well. Did Big Macintosh have any allegiance? Could he be helped to not lash out at anything and everything? Could Vinyl’s proficiency in chemicals be used for something better? She could probably cook up a potent morphine. What would happen to them then? Test subjects? Dissected like lab animals?

At the first chance she got, She’d put in a request to talk to Celestia. Twilight was her student, after all. The bureaucracy would bend for the princess here like in Equestria. There was no way she’d spend eternity in some dank dungeon-basement.

She rolled off the bed to do just that, laying out the array of parchment, ink and quills that in themselves brought back a sense of normalcy. It was just her and the letter right now. Dipping a quill in the ink well, she wrote.

Dear Princess Celestia,

No doubt, you’ve read the interrogation notes of Lord Inquisitor Karamazov as to the whereabouts and difficulties my friends and I have been through, not only from crazy cultists, but from savage impulses in ourselves. As your student, I can say with great confidence, that Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and I have all but mastered our mutations and urges. Pinkie Pie could be put before the city dump and you wouldn’t hear a word from her as she’d be predictably occupied, and—

She paused, brushing the feathery quill against her lips for a moment, then dipped it for more ink.

Discord recently arrived, restoring Fluttershy’s natural form, but was forced to leave immediately, expecting the Blood God’s wrath to come for him in the Empyrean. I would request an audience with your highness at your earliest convenience. I could see how sullen you were when Emperor Franz laid out his initial terms, and I do hope you are in dialogue with him as to what can become of us.

Another pause. She let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. Another ink replenishment.

I missed you. I really did. Every time I thought about the possibility of restoration, you came up. I missed hearing from you, Princess. I can’t explain in words here how glad I was to learn that you were alright. And more than that, now I hear you’re one of the rulers of the Empire, too? I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about together, which I hope will be soon. I want all of us to be together again—me, you, Luna, Cadence, my brother, my friends—and even though things have been hard these past few months, I have faith that things will turn out alright, in the end. I’m really looking forward to seeing you again.

~ Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle

She returned the quill to the well, and looked over the fresh letter with a faint smile. The mere act of writing it was enormously cathartic, the familiarity of the motions reminding her of a simpler time, when all was right with the world, and when her concerns revolved primarily around sorting books, spending time with her friends, and happily reporting to her mentor.

I wonder what she’s going to think of me when she finds out I’m a daemon…

Her smile fell, and she shook her head firmly. She could drive herself sick to worry over the eventual encounter and entertain as many possible scenarios as she could think of, including but not limited to banishment to the sun, but she knew she could count on the Princess and her wisdom and strength.

Strength. She’d gotten stronger, too, hadn’t she? A warp-touched mind, still intact. Never had her conscious control over magic been stronger. And, heck, she could probably get her own sustenance. The blood she was given in her rations had become bitter with anticoagulants. And with Fellblade, she had told him the risk; if she didn’t feed, she’d invariably lose it and lash out at the first living thing in sight.

She stuck out her tongue at the mirror. The appendage was unnaturally long, almost tentacle-like down to the tip, and curled and squirmed idly down past her chin. It bore a striking shade of dark blue. She raised it up and whipped it around a bit. It only served to spatter a purple slime on the desk and, in disgust, she sucked it back into her mouth like a wet noodle.

Please don’t tell me I’m going to grow a second one like Pinkie Pie...

However, the universe wasn’t so merciful as to give an answer.

She felt a sudden spike of magical energy pulse through the room, the focus right behind her. Turning around, she shielded her eyes from a bright pink flash washing over the room, leaving a panting white unicorn, in a smoking circle on the floor.

“Twilight!”

Twilight bit her lip, seeing her second worst fear came to life as Shining Armor, with sweat pouring down his brow growled at point blank. She stammered, “Sh-Shining?! What are you—”

He lunged at her, making her jump back against the dresser. His eyes were wild, an unkempt mane falling messily over his face in several places, and his teeth were gritted together hard enough to crack diamonds.

“Where… is… Fluttershy?!”

On the lake of the Great Park, the Show Boat ferried some of the most well-off denizens of Middenheim for day-long ventures of leisure. With its twin smokestacks fuming, it trundled along its placid, murky waters.

Screwball had everything planned out for that day. She tied Fluttershy’s mane up in a bun and dyed it maroon, had her wear a dark blue frock, and added a pair of special spectacles that made her eyes appear a hazel-brown. However, Fluttershy couldn’t enjoy herself, as ‘the monster’ was the only thing everyone else on the boat was talking about.

“It destroyed my business!”

“So many good men, all dead…”

“By Sigmar, someone’s head will roll if that damned thing isn’t executed tonight!”

The mare distanced herself on the front of the ship, leaning on the railing and peering down into the water as it churned into a froth before the prow. She looked back when the boat’s whistle began to blow, billowing up a pouffy steam cloud.

She wrung her forelegs together. Fur and flesh instead of steel, normal vertebrate wings instead of armor and cabling. She should be the happiest mare in the world right now. But how could she celebrate when every human—and not a few ponies, as well—were talking about her recent rampage no matter where she went? And why in the name of Celestia did Screwball think it was a good idea to put her on a boat with generals, bureaucrats, and factory owners, claiming that it was so she could ‘have a good day’?

She sighed. Best to take whatever blessings she could, and Rarity’s remarks about man didn’t see to be holding up. They grieved their losses, monetary and in men.

And besides… Rarity is one to exaggerate grossly, sometimes. I haven’t seen any meat dishes, and the humans look to be getting along so well with the ponies.

All of a sudden, a pair of gregarious—and somewhat familiar—voices nearby caught her attention.

“Absolutely!”

“Positively!”

There were two tall stallions who looked very much alike, both bearing proud grins, in blue and red-striped tunics, and tall feathered hats. The only obvious difference was a crimson moustache on one, for which the other was lacking.

“We sold the design of the Cider Squeezy to the Technikus in Nuln.”

“Those gear-heads sure do pay a pretty penny!”

“So I do believe you can,”

“In part,”

“Thank us for the revival of the Conqueror steam tank,”

“And the automated quality-check machines in the arms factories that keep your men shooting!”

Meeting their boastful postures, a stocky, cigar-chomping fellow in royal blue fatigues regarded them with a most skeptical look. The rows of medals and honors, and the stitching up both his lips creased as he took the brown roll between two fingers and blew soft and long into both their faces. “You two know the definition of a ‘flim-flam’?”

Stifling their coughs, the twins glanced at one another. “I’m afraid not.”

“Care to—ack! enlighten us, general Denk?”

“It means a scam, a con, a canard…” He took a step closer to the two, his fingers squeezing the end of his cigar more tightly. “Your names are the very meaning of a lying, cheating, snake oil salesman.”

Flim swallowed the lump in his throat. On the very edge of his vision, he spotted a mare listlessly walking behind the assailant. “Hello there!” he blurted out. “Miss! You look seasick!” he quickly trotted over to her, leaving his brother with the general.

The butter-yellow mare was slowly staggering, leaning on the railing for support and gasping with each breath. She mumbled, “Seasick?”

“Yes indeedy, it’s unmistakable. You shouldn’t be so close to the edge. Seasickness is all a miscommunication between the eyes and legs, so I suggest shutting those peepers tight.” Flim guided her to a seat and table. She rested her head and kept herself sightless.

“I’ll get you some water and see if there’s somepony on board who can help ease it up. What’s your name?”

Fluttershy thought for a second, glancing a split second into the stallion’s eyes, who she knew too well from home. “Firefly… Moon.”

“Firefly. Got it.” And with that, he departed briskly.

Fluttershy moaned, gritting her teeth and fighting back the nausea. The yelling between the general and Flam quickly faded to muffled noise. Slowly, with a creeping sensation, she felt her whole body go numb.

Well-prepared, a man of medicine was regularly employed on the ship in case of an emergency. In a lime-green magical glow, Flim carried a glass of water beside the doctor and both hurriedly came up the stairs of the multistory vessel.

“Right around here, and… what?”

Flim expected to find the mare huddled against the table, but the area was bereft of her. “She was right here.” He peeked under the table, and both scoured the immediate area; nothing. “Miss Firefly?!” he called.

No response.

The doctor’s vision was suddenly obscured when a drop of liquid landed on his glasses. He took them off and raised a brow at the bright red stain that smeared the lens. “Blood?”

They both looked up, and there she was. Several stories in the air, hovering still to the ship moving below, her forehooves outstretched to either side. In no time at all, the whole of the ship’s riders were staring gape-mouthed at her.

“I didn’t see any wings on her,” Flim muttered. “How’d she get up— oh!”

The mare plummeted, dropping like a sack of bricks. A rain of crimson followed her into impact with the rear of the ship.

Babysitting an adult; a true test of her maturity. Am I one and a half or forty-two? My old self, or the new one? Ah, to speak in the old style…

The lake’s warm waters washed over her legs in a gentle tide as she popped off her cap and dumped out a fishing rod, tackle box and shook her cap so it was suddenly colored with pictures of woodland litter. The inside of the box displayed a colorful array of baits and lures, hooks small enough for a minnow to ones mighty enough for a shark. In the mood for live bait, she plucked out a wriggling earthworm and an inch-long barb.

Screwball focused with all her might on the two things before her eyes. Between them, a single blur of white in the distance, was the Show Boat. Everything was working out. Her auntie got to chat it up with the grownups, and she got to do her own thing. Slowly, with the tiniest twitches, she brought them together and—

KABOOM!

She jumped, and the hook stuck right through her hoof. The worm fell to the grass and slithered to freedom. Yanking the hook out as if it were merely grass on her fur, she gazed at a fireball in the distance. The white ship, with its rear hopping into the air, erupted in smoke and steam.

Screwball’s eyes widened in terror.

“FLUTTERSHY!”

I feel so strange… Better, but… weird. What happened?

Fluttershy felt near-weightless, with the sound of water in her ears, but she was sightless. Her eyes were open, but she couldn’t see an inch ahead. So dark down here. Am I under water?

She shook her head and started walking, validating that theory with the awkward, altered gravity. Maybe I’m dreaming. I must have fallen asleep… Or passed out. I should have been more vocal with Screwball. I’m sensitive to motion sickness, and stuck on a rolling boat. Is something supposed to happen around here?

She felt some things brush by, and some dull, barely-audible thuds. Hello? She blindly felt around but couldn’t feel much, and what she did touch wouldn’t stay in her grip long before slipping away. She sighed, and continued walking.

It must have been her first time sleeping in ages. Something had to happen, she had to find something, have one of those surreal voyages only a dream can bring. Maybe think it up. So she thought of a mountain, and sure enough, she could feel the ground begin to slope upward. Okay then, she smiled. I’m going up Canterlot Mountain, and at the top, there it will be… She felt the water part over her head, and a cool breeze. The White City.

Her ears pierced the surface of the water, but it wasn’t the clip-clop of hooves and the white noise of the city she heard, but screams, and the shrieking hiss of steam.

“Ready to fire! Ready to fire!” a distant voice cried.

“Hold fire! Move back! Unlimber and fall back!”

“Fire?” she shouted. “Where’s the fire? Somepony please help me! I can’t see!” She desperately rubbed her eyes and the blind world went white, painfully bright and dimmed only slowly so she could see.

She stopped breathing when she saw these two things she was holding up, each bearing four scythe-sized blades. They were claws, connected to a pair of great metal legs adorned in all too familiar runes and icons. She looked down where so many people, so tiny, were running, running, and dozens more were in a semicircle around her, pointing large tubes slung over their shoulders at her.

No… not again…

“Sir, what do we do?! It’s looking right at us!” one shouted.

“I said stand down!” A white unicorn’s horn burned pink and forced all the men’s weapons down, but the instant the light faded, a panicked shout was heard from one who raised his weapon right back up.

“No, you idiot!”

He clenched his fists at the triggers and all Fluttershy saw was a comet of light streak not a foot too far to the left, a painfully loud roar shooting past her ear. With a yelp, her claws raised to her face as a shield.

Rockets… She remembered the rockets. The cannonballs, like bullets, tearing her apart. The explosions... pain.

She ran.

The greatest evil to curse a sentient being’s soul was boredom. It made them seek things; stimulation, excitement, a sense of fulfillment… and often, the one in question did not care where they came from. Of course, this typically only becomes a problem if they can actually go anywhere. The gibbet was a device that was supposed to display the breakdown of such a victim until they perished of neglect. The corpse still housed in the cage was bored, but thinking.

“So, Fluttershy, about you trying to eat me alive earlier… Oh yeah, so sorry ‘bout that, AJ. I promise it’ll never happen again. Can we still be friends? A’course! One near-death experience ain’t gonna make me hate you!”

Applejack chuckled mirthlessly. How could she and Fluttershy make up after that?

A fly landed on her eye, and she blinked it off. It returned not a second later at the tip of her nose. She snorted and it still didn’t budge. Don’t I usually tell you guys what to do? Through mere thought, she called for another fly to land before the oddly colored one. A set of gnashing, dribbling mandibles idly snapped between its bloodred kaleidoscopic eyes.

Hey, bud, mind stepping aside? Tryin’ to get Applejack’s attention, here. said the colored one.

The Host does not like your presence, and you are not part of our hive. She desires you leave, as do we. Two more of the fat, fuzzy bugs landed behind the first, each dwarfing the colored fly. The tiny thing took a step back.

Hold on, now, thought Applejack. If you ain’t part of their hive, how do you know my name? She squinted her crusty eyes at the tiny thing, now seeing that its whole body was striped like a rainbow. Even its eyes shimmered like a reptile’s scales.

A number of things clicked into place in her mind at once, causing a genuine smile to come to her face. Rainbow Dash? Hoo-ey! You’re in one piece!

As if sensing the turnaround in her emotions, the flies departed, skittering into Applejack’s mouth through the hole in her cheek. Where’ve you been?

Eh, Cloudsdale, a jail for daemons, beaten and given amnesia. You know, the usual.

Well, first, let’s not make this mare-to-bug. Haven’t seen the real you in a heckuva long time.

Rainbow jumped off. Her form collapsed into a growing ball of bubbling meat, settling into a blue and rainbow-maned mare’s form. “Oh, jeez!” She pressed a hoof against her nose. “As a fly, you actually smelled tolerable.”

“Heh,” Applejack chuckled dryly through four rows of teeth. “You know, Ah don’t know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment, anymore.”

“Here, I think I can… nnngggh.” Rainbow’s skin tightened around her bones, her eyes sinking in their sockets until she looked like a lanky, emaciated form of her former self. “Well, it’s not as bad, anymore.” She bumped Applejack, “So, what’s with the talking flies?”

“Yeah, they showed up not too long ago. Think there’s, uh, eight-thousand four-hundred seventy-six of ‘em that turned me inta their house.”

Rainbow cocked a brow. “Eighty-four hundred seventy-six, exactly?”

“Eighty-four hundred seventy-seven, now.”

“Eww… So why the hay are you in a cage over the Drakenwald?”

The living corpse stirred a hoof in the rust caking the floor of her cage. “Two reasons. Twilight’s brother, Shining Armor said he needed to make it look like Ah’m actually bein’ detained, and Ah’d end up sproutin’ spores all over a closed cell. Gotta keep me in open air. Ah mean, Ah’m probably more plant than mare, now.”

Rainbow gave her a close look over. If she was a plant by any degree, she had bloomed since the last time Rainbow saw her. Out of her cracked skull, a blossoming mass of blonde-colored fungus hung back over her neck, emitting a slightly-visible fog of spores on the wind. Another growth of mold had claimed half her face, fanning out like scales in layers and nearly blotting out her left eye.

“Did you sit in a greenhouse, or something?”

“Eh, sumthi’n like it. Bigger, meaner… You know Fluttershy’s gotten easy to rile up, right?”

“Yeah, did that have anything to do with th—oh…” Rainbow’s already-ghoulish face sank deeper into a miserable state. “She went off on the whole city?”

Applejack silently nodded. “Went on a rampage like you never see- heh-ack!” Applejack hacked and coughed into her hoof, spitting out a blackened wad of a spongy material. She frowned. “Think that might be some lung.” She carelessly threw it away. “Ah mean, she came for me. Scooped me up ‘n tried to swallow me whole…”

“She didn’t…” Rainbow gawked in disbelief. “She didn’t recognize you at all?”

“Didn’t hesitate a second.” They both heard a dull roll of thunder. Applejack looked up to the darkly overcast sky. “Thunderstorm brewi’n?”

“Yeah, there’s one scheduled for today. Mostly to wash the streets of, uh… blood.”

“Yech… Hate rain. Makes me swell up. I dunno what’s happenin’ to her now. Here’s hopin’ she’s at least calmed down.”

“What if she isn’t?”

Boom…

Applejack let her head droop. “Then can you picture it? Her squirmin’ an’ screamin’ someplace. I can’t imagine what a beastly angriness that is.”

Boom...Boom Boom.

“You know, I was being questioned by these goons about myself and you guys. They kept talking about some ‘punishment for our sins’. What sins? I don’t know.”

Boom-Boom-BOOM BOOM!

The whole cage rocked like an earthquake to the pounding thunder, which was by now clearly coming from behind them rather than from above. “AJ, hold tight,” Rainbow said, slipping her lanky form between the bars. “I’m gonna see what the heck that is.”

“Please do.”

The pegasus shot up out of view, and not a second later, returned, screaming under the shadow of a curtain of steel that blotted out the sky. A huge beast came jumping down from the parapets above, emitting its own deep, thundering scream as it gracelessly tumbled, claw over heels, down the outside of the walls. As Applejack watched, it was as if in slow motion, the hook-ended chains of its tail caught the bars of her cage, tearing it clear of the walls.

The rest was like a tumble dryer. Rocking, bouncing, smashing down the cliff face, the cage disintegrated around Applejack. At the point she thought it would never end, she finally crashed and settled. She jumped up, quick as she could, her whole form feeling jellified and wobbly. Every bone in her body must have been broken. Again.

Before she even got a bearing on her surroundings, an even darker shadow cast over her. The giant was getting back up, scraped and damaged, but slowly the dents were popping back into shape. She crept away as quick and silently as possible, avoiding even the patches of crunchy leaves.

Then her nose started to itch.

No… Don’t you dare, Applejack. This isn’t the—

“Ah…”

No! You’re so close, just behind the nearest tree!

“Ah-heh...”

NOO!

“Ah-CHAOO!”

The whole air around her lit up with spore ejections, bright as mustard powder, then all went still and silent. Rigid as iron, Applejack turned her head around. Two soccer ball-sized suns, floating in hollow bowls for eye sockets glared down at her. The creature's mouth slowly opened, finding the voice to speak. “App—”

“AAAAAHHH!”

“No! Wait!”

Applejack broke into a frantic gallop, trailed by Fluttershy, who barely needed to trot to remain looming over her. “Applejack, please stop! I’m sorry! You didn’t even taste that good! I mean… You know I’d never do anything like that!”

Applejack took cover behind a tree. Mere seconds later, with a horrendous tearing noise, it shot up from the ground in Fluttershy’s claw like she was picking a carrot.

“Please don’t run!”

Applejack immediately screamed in panic and took off again. Fluttershy glanced at the whole uprooted tree in her claw. “Stupid!” Throwing it away, she stayed put and shouted into the forest’s darkness, “Applejack, please come back!”

She gasped, throwing a claw to her neck. Whose voice was that? It couldn’t be hers. It was too deep, too rough and loud.

It was quiet now, the sound of frantic hoofsteps was gone, and she was alone. Deathly quiet, and Fluttershy could hear herself. Not thinking, or talking, but just living. Gears, the clink-clink-clink. The rush of vast volumes of air with each breath, and the heavy clunk of her body. Clockwork in a living machine.

Fluttershy leaned against the cliff face, listening to the noise. No, no. That’s not me.

She put her claws to her chest, tracing the mark of Khorne embossed there with one of her sword-like nails. She looked down, and there it was; a massive jagged X painted gleaming like gold, studded with spikes and skulls. Many of them looked familiar the longer she looked at them. She plucked at the rim, then started scratching at it.

“This can’t be me! Not again!” Maybe all the metal was built around her real body. She scratched harder, beginning to cut at her own hide. It didn’t even hurt; this body had to be fake.

With a raised claw, she aimed the nails straight for the center of the mark. Perhaps she could peel this tomb off.

“Fluttershy!”

She paused, her claw only a foot or so from her chest. Applejack came running back, stopping just out of arm’s reach, standing tall and commanding, but with a hint of uneasiness in her voice. “Whatever that is you’re doin’, stop it right now.”

The giant put her claw down and swallowed tensely. “A-Applejack, I’m… s-s-so sorry. I’m not angry. See?” She wiggled her nails a little. “I-I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know… I mean, I should have known.” Applejack stepped closer. “Shoulda… put more trust in ya.”

Fluttershy arrested her claws behind her back and let her friend come well into her shadow. In the misty air, her eyes were spotlights in the darkness, slowly following Applejack as she sat right beside the giant.

It was a few minutes of silence until Fluttershy said, “So… about me trying to eat you alive…”

“Yeah, I heard you. You were pretty loud.”

“S-sorry. Am I too loud right now?”

“No, no. Volume’s fine, or I might be going deaf.”

Applejack looked up to the face, thirty feet over her head. Fluttershy was scratching at her chest, pawing at the brass mark spanning its breadth like a latched-on spider.

“Applejack!” A voice called out through the fog, which made Fluttershy flinch.

Applejack trotted a bit in the direction of it. “Rainbow's okay? Rainbow Dash! Over here!”

“I see two lights!”

“Yeah, I’m there! Just don’t panic!”

“Panic over wha—…”

Rainbow’s silent form slowly emerged through the mist, glaring unblinkingly into Fluttershy’s burning eyes. She stopped a long way from her, both silent and still.

Applejack quickly came up to Rainbow, whispering, “It’s okay. It’s still her; just hit a growth spurt, is all.”

Rainbow didn’t break eye contact, but managed to lean a little toward Applejack. “Dear Celestia, how big can she get?”

“I ain’t sure. Just really hope this is the end of it.”

“Is she… safe? To be around?”

Applejack shrugged. “I lasted a couple of minutes right next to her ‘fore you came.”

Ruffling the jitters out of her wings, Rainbow flew up to Fluttershy, just close enough for comfort. She put on a shaky facade of affability. “Fluttershy! Long time, no see! Gotta say, the weeks have been great to you and— okay, I didn’t do this!”

Fluttershy’s claws were at the sides of her head, sniffling with puddles of liquid fire welling up in her eye sockets.

“Fluttershy, what’s wrong?” Rainbow let herself hover a little closer, starting to sweat from the heat coming off her friend.

“I-I don’t... I don’t want to be like this again. I don’t want to be a monster.”

“No, no.” Applejack trotted up, “What have we been telli’n you for the longest time? This is not you.” She tapped Fluttershy’s knee. “You are how you talk, who you call friend, and the nicest spirit any of us ever darn saw—ah!.”

Applejack jumped back as a trickle of aethereal flame pattered onto the ground before her. She quickly began clearing the forest litter around the flames so they wouldn’t spread, but Fluttershy kept moving her head and the flames kept landing in new places. Fluttershy saw this, wiped her eyes, and tried her damndest to hold it all back.

“D… Discord… please come back. If you can hear me… Please.”

“What’s she talking about Discord for?” Rainbow asked Applejack, to which she shrugged with a worried frown.

Applejack sniffed, then caught a troubling scent and broke her whisper. “Soldiers are comin’ for us. They’re close; Rainbow, you gotta hide!”

“Easy, easy.” she said assuringly, and quickly compacted herself into the form of a tiny gray squirrel.

While she went up the nearest tree, Applejack went straight to Fluttershy’s side. “Just stay calm, and no sudden movements, mkay?”

Fluttershy silently nodded. Not a minute passed before the silhouettes of no less than a dozen pegasi in battle plate touched down on the edge of visibility in the fog. Amongst their formation, a dull pop was followed by a bright red point of light shooting up. A pink flash deposited a unicorn among their ranks and, out of hearing distance, he and a pegasus with a crested helmet seemed to quickly become locked in a heated discussion.

Fluttershy controlled her stammering breath as best she could, as the unicorn strode closer. Her worry faded some when it became clear that Shining Armor was under the feathered helmet. He gave the first word, speaking audibly, but clearly trying to not be too loud.

“Girls, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Fluttershy, I know you didn’t mean to, but you’re too dangerous to keep inside the city. I’m not sure what else we can do but keep you down here.”

“B-But—eep!”

Shining cut her off with a sharp hoof wave, then lifted said hoof to his ears, giving a slight grunt. “Too loud. Don’t talk, please. Applejack, I’m going to need somepony to keep an eye on her, and who better than her best friend?”

The zompony swallowed tensely. “That’s an order, ain’t it?”

Shining nodded. “You’re going to need something to do, so I’d like Fluttershy to clear the trees around the base of the mountain, and Applejack, clear up what’s at the Cliff of Sighs. There’s a number of beastmen down here, but given your… state, especially with that axe we found that your leg turned into, Applejack, they shouldn’t harass you much.” Shining snappishly took out a pocket watch, glancing at it. “Girls, I need an answer. Nod if you’re okay with it.”

They both did. Shining sighed in incalculable relief.

“Thank you… Oh, Celestia, thank you.”

Where is it? Where is it!?

The Doctor felt around desperately in the blinding dark, his hooves slipping and sliding the rippling, fleshy surfaces. It was like fighting against a rubber sleeping bag, which constricted and squeezed him.

I know it’s in here, somewhere… just need to… AHA!

He grinned as his hoof finally grasped the warm metal of his warpstone-powered sonic screwdriver. Earlier, the gyrating walls and tendrils of Pinkie’s stomach had inadvertently activated it, thus freeing him from his induced trance; just one of the many hundreds of possible functions at its disposal. Now armed with his familiar tool once again, and at last thinking straight without the fog of magic-induced lust to dull his senses, he was starting to get back in the game.

The doctor’s smile fell, and he sighed. One problem solved usually led to another, and this case was little different. He sank down slightly as he pondered his state.

Ok, ok… I’ve gotten out of worse, before. At least she’s not trying to kill me, unlike damn near half of everything else in the universe. I just have to make Pinkie believe I’m still under her thrall… and somehow find a way out of this. With no immediate backup. And with everything pretty much riding on a coin toss.

The walls began to swell outward, filling with air while a long yawn croaked out just over his head, followed by a bout of lip smacking and a dull knocking against the walls.

“Doc, you awake?” a curious voice whispered, to which Whooves remained silent.

Dammit! No, not yet, go back to sleep!

His cell rocked back and forth, swishing a shallow pool of sweet-smelling liquid under him. The voice giggled, “Doctor, I know you’re awake. You snore when you sleep.”

I do NOT!

The walls began to constrict around him, growling menacingly, and sweating more of its enzymes. The space kept shrinking, forcing him into a curled up ball, and it only got tighter and tighter.

“Yeah, I’m awake,” he blurted out quickly, then forcibly chuckled. “I thought I had you going for a minute!”

Pinkie giggled, sending waves of vibrations through the relaxing wall around him. “I’ll admit, it was a nice try. But remember, you snore like a dragon.”

The Doctor’s eye twitched. Forcing sanguinity to his voice, he called back, “Guess I’m the other rumbly in your belly, eh?”

His host laughed again. He felt a pair of hooves press in against one part of the wall, then the now-familiar sensation of her innumerable tongues on his body; she was tasting him.

“Mmh…” she murmured sleepily. “What do you think, Doctor? Why can’t I digest you? I mean, everything else melts away quicker than my blueberry-coconut cupcakes on Hearth’s Warming Day. But you… why?”

Now that was a good question. Before he could think too much about it, though, her stomach lurched up slightly, rubbing its syrupy acids at Whooves’ back. He cringed in disgust, but managed to inject some degree of thoughtfulness into his tone. “Perhaps… we were made for each other. Of course! If you absorbed me, I would just regenerate, but… Slaanesh might have changed you specifically to hold me, so I can’t resist his ilk.”

Pinkie laughed and slapped her belly. “Well, joke’s on him! I’m not gonna let anything happen to you because you’re mine. All. Mine. And if not for Rarity, I wouldn’t let you go anywhere without me near; or, heh, all around you. Speaking of Rarity…”

She trailed off, leaving the Doctor to blink confusedly in the lull. “What about her?”

He felt Pinkie’s body shift slightly, presumably to look at something. Knowing her, it was to probably to regard a potential treat. “Mmm… she’s out here, too… taking a little nappy on the couch, I think.”

For some reason, Pinkie’s tone caused a small pit to form in his own stomach. Is it Rarity or a big gooey creampuff she’s looking at?

“There’s also… mmm...” Pinkie’s stomach gurgled abruptly, sending a stab of panic up Whooves’ spine as even more acids secreted into the stomach in anticipation. “Sweetie Belle…”

What? What has she got to… oh… oh, no…

“She was so good the first two times, but now, she’d probably burn through me like a stuffed jalapeno buffet if she really wanted to.” A shudder ran through the stomach walls around the Doctor. “Plus, Rarity would… um… not be happy. Like, really really really not happy. Like, just-ate-five-bags-of-Warheads-candy not happy.”

Yeah, poke a couple of holes in you. Won’t be life-threatening and you won’t accidentally drown me in syrup, getting off to cannibalistic fantasies!

Almost like it could feel his discontent, Pinkie’s gut made another low groan. “Mmph. I just made myself hungry…” She got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing a bread basket from the cupboard and returning to her spot.

“Hey, I don’t think you ever finished your story about a painting thing. Gallifrey Falls No More?” She laid down on the carpet and fished out a bread roll with a tongue. “I really wanna know how it ends. I think you left off where you made the Zygons and the people they were copying forget whether they were Zygon or human, and something about a nuclear watchamajigger.” She snapped the tongue back into her mouth.

She wants a bedtime story? Huh… ok, I can do that.

“Zygons forgetting… right. Both Kates cancelled the detonation at the same time, and both groups forged a peace treaty between the human race and the Zygons. It was guaranteed to be fair because nopony knew which side they were on. So while they negotiated, Clara, my future self, and I caught up with my Time War self who was just about to end our homeworld.” Whooves paused in recollection of the moment, looking into the tired, wrinkled face that had given up. He heard Pinkie swallow loudly, ignored the trickle of bread pulp that spilled into her stomach, and continued.

“I mean, we’d all given up by that point, but forgave our past self and ourselves. All three of us had our hands on the button, not willing to have our past life bear all the guilt alone.”

“You didn’t actually press it, did you? There were like four million kids on that planet, right?”

“Two-billion four hundred seventy million children.”

“That’s… a lot more…” Pinkie muttered uneasily.

Whooves paused and shifted around uncomfortably. The weight of the act, though he did better in his second chance, still weighed heavy on him. But he rectified himself quickly. His conscience was clear and his people were alive. “We were so close to doing it to save them from annihilation at the hands of the Daleks, but we were struck by a new idea. We would freeze Gallifrey itself in a stasis portrait, and when it disappeared, the Dalek armada would destroy itself in its own crossfire from the orbital bombardment.”

“The whole planet?!” Pinkie exclaimed, scarfing down another mouthful. “That would have taken forever, and wasn’t that the last day of the war?”

“You would have thought it would take a long time, but starting from some of my first lives, I’ve had centuries to do the calculations. In order to have enough power, all of my past lives converged on the world and the Daleks began to panic! ’TARDIS detected! The Doctor is near!’ A billion-billion of the buggers, and they still called for reinforcements when we arrived.”

Pinkie giggled at his impression of a Dalek. “I bet it would be hilarious to hear one try to sing. ’Oh, Danny Colt, the pipes, the pipes are calling. From glen to glen, and down the mountain siiiiiide…’” Both she and Whooves laughed at her own take. “I don’t know how you don’t laugh whenever they talk!

“So, a billion-billion?” Pinkie stroked her chin in contemplation. “How many zeroes is that?”

“Eighteen.”

“Woah.”

“I know. Now, picture it. A whole world, frozen in space-time, in a three-dimensional painting, small enough for a single wall in a museum.“

“Hmm. It must be beautiful. Like if all of Equus was painted at once.”

“Yeah,” Whooves sighed. “Only everything is still on fire and there are millions of bleeding trash cans with particle beams everywhere.”

“Oh yeah, you froze them, mid-invasion.” She patted her stomach right where his head was. “It was the best you could do, right? What else was there? Let the Daleks wipe them out, or do it yourself.” No response came from her belly but a sigh, and the feeling of her inmate turning. “Aww. Com’ere, Doctor.”

Her tongues slithered down to him, grasping him all over and pulling him up her throat. He escaped her lips with a pop. Pinkie wiped his face, paying no attention to her stomach acid dripping from him onto her coat and wiped her mouth. “Sometimes, when I go to bed with my head full of worries, I get Gummy to sleep by my side. It’s good to know somepony’s near, but… In my tummy, you can’t see me, and it might be tight, feeling like you have nowhere to go.” Gingerly, she set him on the floor and gave him a light whip on the flank. “Go clean yourself up, and you can sleep on the outside tonight.”

Whooves took the chance with gusto to get away from her for even just a minute. He quietly slipped out the back door where a single water pump in the back alley was shared by the several adjoining homes. As he washed off in the cascade of lukewarm water, he glanced back at the window of the door. Nothing was there, but he was certain Pinkie must be peeping in on him.

He finished up, shook himself off and reluctantly came back in. His suspicion was confirmed as Pinkie was playing the worst act of innocence he’d ever seen. “That didn’t take you long, and ooh you look so cute with your mane damp. Com’ere.” She whipped out a tongue around his neck, gently pulling him into her embrace. “Better?”

“Y…yes?”

“Mmm, good.” She fell back, bouncing and jiggling a bit, with Whooves firmly pinned against her body with all three forelimbs. Was Pinkie getting bigger? It felt like he was sinking into a mattress as her hollow body squished under him. Pressed up nose to nose, Pinkie’s breath flowed warmly over his chin. “Have I said it yet, doctor?”

Oh, no… He forced down the frog in his throat, keeping his voice steady. “Said what?”

“That I love you.”

Ohhhh, nooo… “I... didn’t think you had to, since it’s all so very crystal clear.”

Pinkie giggled happily. “That’s how you know it’s real, when you don’t even need to say it. You know it, because actions speak louder than words.” She let a single tongue slip forward, sliding along the back of Whooves’ head and imagined, “What if I did absorb you, and you... and you didn’t regenerate? Would the digestion hurt; turning you into a puddle of soupy goo and tummy drinks you up? I’ll never have to worry about losing you again, because we’ll be one and the same.”

Whooves felt Pinkie’s body rapidly get warmer, hotter, her stomach lurching violently as if trying to get him on the outside. She actually looked to be in pain from the desire and held him even tighter, pushing him down onto herself as if trying to make him phase through, back into the rioting organ. It might sooner tear him limb from limb with hits forceful gnashing.

Losing breath, Whooves said desperately, “But we’ll never see each other again, and you’ll never get… another one of these!”

With pursed lips, he planted them right on Pinkie’s nose, and all at once, she went silent. The spirals of her eyes stopped turning, and her grip relaxed. Whooves slowly slid his lips to her cheek, attempting a little more believability, more softly.

Working a hoof from her weakening grip, he stroked the crown of her head, and down her face. She didn’t even seem to react as her eyes were unmoving with a million mile stare. “Don’t make me ever have to stop looking at this face, Pinkie. Don’t deny me the bliss of seeing you with my own eyes.”

He looked into her eyes, and they were unblinking, unresponsive. He wondered what he’d just done. “Pinkie Pie?” He patted her cheek, getting no response. Then he tried to wiggle out of her grip to no avail. She still had him locked.

Bollocks… now what?

Was it really alright to leave Sweetie Belle with Pinkie Pie again?

Of course, Rarity, you silly girl. She was proper the first time, and looked to be in no mood to eat with that stomachache she developed earlier in the morning. It’s fine. It’s all coming together. Just stay the course.

But for how long? The Doctor is still here, but… He still thinks we haven’t converted, thinks his job is done. We’re in the hooves of the Princesses, so there’s no more reason for him to be here. But Pinkie Pie and her damned crush… No… It actually works perfectly. She’ll keep him locked away, as a non-factor. It isn’t like he could have won. The Gods’ victory is inevitable, and my friends need to be on the winning side. I won’t see their souls tormented by war’s end.

Yes. Just stay the course.

Rarity stored those problems away for later. For now, she had a little promise to see through. She and Spike had never gotten the chance to have a day just to themselves and certain events only delayed it further. But unless another Fluttershy rampage interrupted her, there was nothing to take her from his allotted room and make plans with him.

and focused back on rifling through Spike’s dresser, once in a while taking the time to admire what she found. Is this what he gets to wear in Ulthuan? she thought. She poured her eyes over a silken tunic, examining it down to the unique stitching. There weren’t even any seams; it was all one piece. Oh, yes. I must persuade him to let me take one of these. Ah, hello, there...

She pulled out a little crimson bag no bigger than a coin purse, finding a healthy-sized collection of sapphires, rubies, and other assorted gems within. With but a thought, Rarity levitated a particularly finely-cut emerald from the bag, which reflected her face as clear as tinted glass.

Just how exactly does a dragon eat these?

She’d never quite been able to figure it out. Gems were attractive, no doubt, but not exactly appetizing. It was definitely a credit to Spike’s already-impressive physical capabilities that he was able to eat them at all, much less snack on them like candy. Shrugging, Rarity held the bag to her nose and took a curious sniff. To her surprise, the stones smelled not unlike a rather luscious fruit basket.

Crystals shouldn’t have a scent. One more thing to talk about, I suppose.

She replaced the bag in the drawer and closed it shut. With a heavy sigh, she turned her gaze upward to the mirror atop the dresser, staring at the figure within the glass with a critical eye. She ran a hand across her forehead, taking stock of the three missing horns, and more grotesque features.

This won’t do. Not at all.

The fingers of the hand multiplied into rows of comb-like digits which she ran through her knotty mane, and with the other hand, pinched together the corners of her wide mouth. Melding the lips together like a seamless zipper, it went from an angler fish’s maw to a more petite mouth, more ladylike and normal. With a pained grunt accompanying each, she pushed back each skeletal thorn that poked out through her collarbone. Her flesh quickly filled in the holes. Her purple mane maintained its bouncy curls when she finished up.

Better. Still a bit thin, but it’s good.

She sat on the bed and set the bag aside, keeping an eye on the door in wait for her favorite dragon. Soon enough, she heard his footsteps, which abruptly stopped before the entrance. Rarity stifled some silent snickers at the seconds-long silence.

“Rarity. I know you’re in there,” came a familiar voice from outside.

She raised a hand, turning an invisible doorknob and opened the door from the bed. It let in her target, half-chuckling at foiling her attempt at surprise. “I know you know,” she grinned back. “Have a nice day?”

Immediately, Spike’s half-smile disappeared. “Ah… Can anyone have a good day these days?”

“Mm, no.” She sighed. “No, I suppose not.”

“You look different. The, uh... collar spikes are gone?”

“Of course. I just had to tidy myself up. Can’t go about fish-mouthed all the time, and I’m always trying a new look, whether I’m in control of it or not.” Rarity patted the empty bed space next to her. “But how about you? You look troubled, dear.”

He sighed. “Lets just say I’ve had a long morning.”

“I certainly know what that’s like,” Rarity nodded, and straightened up slightly in her seat. “If you want to talk about it, I’m all ears.”

“I want to know something first,” Spike said, filing through one of the dresser drawers. “How did you get in here?” Unable to find his prize, he muttered to himself, “Where is that little bag?”

“Nothing fancy. I just flew up here and through the window.”

Spike raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “But the windows don’t open, and— holy shhh—!” He leaped back as a massive, pale white spider shot out from the drawer, grappling onto his wrist.

The dragon desperately tried to get a grip on it as it danced up his arm, effortlessly dodging his attempts to slap or pry it off. Rarity held a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.

“Spike, calm down! Look here!” She waved her right arm, which ended in a fingerless stump. He paused, uneasily keeping track of the the five-legged thing skittering onto his shoulder.

Rarity herself dissolved into a cloud of sand, whisking before Spike, and taking form, plucked her hand off his shoulder and stuck it back on her wrist.

“Well, that was… different of you,” Spike said, confusedly putting a hand to his shoulder, but grinning nonetheless. “I never thought you to ever pull a prank.”

“Oh, I was just so glad our ordeal is almost done, and seeing you so low, I wondered, ‘what makes a dragon like him laugh?’”

Spike did start to snicker, more at her attempt at a prank that the prank itself. “Maybe I can show you how I used to mess with my teacher... before he started cracking down on me.”

“I’d like that. But first, come.” They sat on the bed together, and Rarity touched a finger to Spike’s forehead. She spoke as if she were reading a book for the first time, struggling to find the words.

“You just came back... from a most troubling talk... with Twilight, Cadence, and... Shining Armor.”

She mumbled a bit in frustration, reaching down to his claw. Spike flinched and yanked it back, brushing her fingers along the way. The contact sent a thought shooting through her mind from his, the harshness of which caused her to gasp and pull away.

“O-oh…” she muttered in reproach. “Spike, I’m sorry—”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were reading my mind?” he said crossly, and stood up quickly from the bed, looking her straight in the eyes. “Did the warp take away your respect for privacy, or something?” He paused and glanced back at the dresser. “And were you going through my things?!”

“I… I was going to tell you right after. It was going to be a surprise.” She stood with him, inching closer. “Spike… what did I just see?”

“Nothing!” He sharply turned away, leaning over the dresser. “It was just a ‘what if’, and my shoulder ached again, so my hand jerked.”

“Spike, I know what I saw—”

“You didn’t see anything!” Spike snapped, and immediately felt his spine stand on edge. His tunic slumped forward, coiling around his wrists. Every spine down his back and tail were erect, quivering with a boiling rage.

“Damn it… I…” He growled, then buried his face in a claw and pounded the other on the desk, nearly cracking its surface. “I don’t feel like this is my body!”

Rarity flinched, gazing with sad eyes at his form. She’d known that dragons dealt with age in a far different manner than ponies, but it seemed like the ten harrowing years he’d gone through had changed him in even more ways than the physical. She gently rested a hand on his broad, quivering back. “Spike… what are you?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know…” Spike’s eyes reddened, glazing over. His claw clenched into a fist, scarring the dresser surface, and ground his teeth. “It’s all Celestia’s fault. She wanted a soldier from the very beginning; someone who could control Twilight, maybe even… put her down, if she ever turned to Ruin. But I can’t do it to Twilight. Not even for the Princess.”

Rarity’s fingers twitched. Her eyes had been wide at the beginning of Spike’s story, but now they quivered with barely-controlled fury. Her Spike. The Spike who had helped her so often in Carousel Boutique. The Spike who fawned over Rarity and loved Twilight like a son. And for what? All so Celestia could have him to keep a leash on one of her closest friends? Even worse, was his ability to send letters by fire breath also meant to bring her reports on her behavior, like a spy?

“You’re both right to be mad.” Rarity said, scowling. “How could she? There must have been a thousand other ways, but this... It’s heartless.”

“It is. Twilight is family to me, and if Celestia thinks I’m just going to be some warden for her, she’s got another thing coming. She doesn’t deserve imprisonment, and my friends don’t deserve to live in fear. Not even Fluttershy, or Applejack…” He regarded Rarity with a face on the verge of tears. “Or you.” A scaly claw, large enough to grip a man’s head, rested on her shoulder. “Not you.” He looked at himself in the mirror, and sighed. “Gods forgive me, but I’m done.”

Rarity blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this!” Spike tore the ruined tunic from his arms, then threw himself over to the silver lamellar suit in the corner, taking it up as if it were no more than a rag. The embellishments and scales rattled musically as he furiously shook it. “Everyone’s trying to make me what they want! A soldier to betray his family, or a relic to be moulded into obedience like a dog! I’m done with this, and if my teacher wants me back, he’ll have to come get me!”

Rarity let him have his long tirade and concealed the shapeless morass of her feelings: anger; pity; but also excitement. He was having his own epiphany, going half-way on his own to being spared the Gods’ wrath. But, raised by their oldest enemy, he may never truly join her. Still, she had to try. Every inch closer to their mercy was worth it.

“But I’ll keep all of this; the sword, the suit—”

“What about Cadence?” she interjected pointedly.

“Cadence?” Spike shook his head. “She’s not staying in the Empire for much longer, and when she goes back, I’m not going with her. I’ll give her something to be able to explain to Ulthuan, but it’s my life, dammit. I’ll do what I want with it!”

The exhausted soul slumped back into the chair his suit used to reside on. He let out a ragged laugh. “I needed that. For Gods’ sakes, I’m an adult!” He laid his head back and closed his eyes. “But Rarity, what am I going to do?”

She gently sat on his lap, running her hand up his tired arm, leaning in close. “Well, like you said, you’re the adult. What do you want?”

Spike sighed, deep and long. “I don’t want my friends and family to live as prisoners forever.”

“But you know that is what’s going to happen, since normality is impossible for us now.”

Spike’s eyes opened with an angry furrow. “I’ll get you guys out of here if I have to. But then where would you all go?”

“Perhaps the northern wastes? We’d fit in just fine there.”

Spike picked his gaze up and regarded Rarity like she’d grown two heads. “Are you kidding? Literally everything in the wastes tries to kill everything else. Not to mention that the Everchosen of Chaos himself rules that place.”

“And if we stay here, everypony in the Empire won’t be trying to kill us? They’ll have the inquisition and witch hunters after our heads.” Spike’s skeptical facade didn’t flinch. “Spike, I just want what’s best for all of us, and anywhere that greets ponies like me with calls of ‘Witch! Mutant!’ can’t be an option.”

“Then go to the rural provinces. Ostland, Ostermark, eastern Talabecland. If Fluttershy can toughen up and control herself, she can protect you from anything.”

“But if she ever has to, then the province already knows where we are. We’d probably have to feed anyone who finds us to Pinkie Pie. Poor people, conditioned to hate so much.”

Spike scowled. “Then—”

“When a country has been fighting the same war for thousands of years, they need the propaganda to keep their people subservient and keep them fighting. The world tries to divide itself into black and white, textbook good and bad. All one needs to do is resist the primal desires, like lust and anger, and they can do wonders, whether mutant or magical.” She held out a hand toward the scarred dresser, and suddenly the deep claw marks Spike had left began to mend themselves. “See? Creation, and repair!

“How many mutants do you think the Inquisition summarily executes? Oh, and no trial, or if they do get one, it’s assuredly rigged against them? They claim to be purging their world of evil, when it is actually diversity. Did the elves ever tell you that the Warp is not inherently evil? That it is the reflection of the mindset of everypony in the world, so strong in some areas, magic, love, anger, that it manifested into the Chaos gods?”

Spike frowned. “No. Conveniently, they left that out.”

“And why would they include it? These states thrive on the fear of their subjects. They show the common folk something scary, a mutant whose arms had turned to bony blades, and scream ‘This is the enemy! Shun him, hang him, or he’ll eat your babies!’”

“But Rarity, I saw them on the day they came to Ponyville—”

“And everything was burning; I was there, too, dear. But they spared so many. We’ve met so many who survived from Ponyville. How did they treat you?”

“They threw me in a cage. I thought they left Twilight for dead, and I was mutating so quickly. I would have become a spawn by the next morning.”

“And she isn’t gone. She’s still here. And with the introduction of ponykind, I’ve seen that Chaos itself can be changed! Applejack, Pinkie Pie and I aren’t randomly roaming about killing everypony we come across, screaming some cursed chant. Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie never had a quarrel, despite Khorne and Slaanesh despising one another, and Twilight told us of how Cheerilee had a class of all kinds of students, even from rival groups. Harmony can be brought to the chaos! And if we ever find the Elements of Harmony, I can’t even imagine the good they could—”

“The Elements are gone, Rarity,” Spike interrupted, his voice dark. “The Everchosen has them.”

“Which is excellent!” Rarity continued, unfazed. “They will realize, ‘Why do we have to fight each other? Why can’t we forge a world that will make the rest thrall to us?’ Khornates will only raise a blade to protect their homes. Slaaneshis will make the world truly beautiful instead of a garish pleasure pit. And Tzeentchians will share their wisdom and knowledge freely with the world for the betterment of all, rather than hoarding it selfishly and dooming people to languish in ignorance.”

“Generosity,” Spike mumbled wistfully, and gave Rarity a weak smile.

She nodded, giving him her own broadly pleased expression. “Indeed.”

Rarity sat back up, letting Spike mull the matter over in his mind. He lifted his head up and looked into her eyes. “How can we possibly change the ways of gods like The Changer of Ways?”

“Well, agreed, there isn’t a set blueprint, but just look at Discord. He spent over a thousand years as stone, plotting revenge, consolidating his power; and then two days with Fluttershy and he’s a new draconequus! Can you picture it? Khorne the noble warrior king, Nurgle, a patron of love and family, and Tzeentch, the receptacle of all mortal knowledge, from which anypony can delve into.

“Even gods can be brought to their knees when their followers change their minds. With the Elements, we can turn the Warp from Hell into Heaven, especially through Chaos’ most fervent followers.”

“You realize what you’re saying, right?” Spike turned to her, a serious, critical look in his eyes. “You’re talking about finding the Elements of Harmony—assuming they’re not already destroyed—and somehow using or convincing the cultists to use them. That sounds great, Rarity, but we’re talking about the Everchosen, here, and likely his entire army, too. I don’t even know where to begin, here.”

Rarity placed an arm on his shoulder, returning his look with one of calm, warm determination. “I have a plan.”

The dragon whose lap she was sitting on regarded her stiffly, though his expression betrayed a slight spark of hope. “Rarity,” he said quietly, “I need you to be honest with me.”

Her countenance remained nonplussed. “I’ve been honest this whole time.”

Spike shook his head, and gently laid a claw on her arm. “No, really. I need to know that this is all you, right now. Look me straight in the eyes and tell me that you truly believe it could work.”

He sat up with a more formal and expectant posture. To Rarity, he was a little more imposing than she had thought at first. Her mismatched blue and gold irises met with Spike’s own green, reptilian eyes, and she held the gaze firmly and confidently.

The visions she had of the future, which still lingered in her dreams and followed her every day, showed her what invariably lay before them. Even so, she knew that the chances of them surviving the Storm were almost astronomically small, and even in the case of such an unlikely event, they would still be doomed to the life of pariahs and outcasts forever.

At least, that was what she had thought, before. She had even surprised herself with her words to Spike, because, looking into his eyes now, she knew that she actually did believe them. Before, Rarity had been operating almost purely on the simple desire to see her friends safely sequestered within perhaps the only region on this tortured planet that would not persecute them, but now? It was strange. The thought that perhaps there was some sort of real hope for them all had been like a dry, withered flower, and only recently had it finally begun to see the sunlight once again and open its petals of revelation.

It wasn’t likely. It wasn’t something that could be achieved without pain. But she’d come this far, and had already resolved herself to doing whatever it took to save her friends, even if it did hurt them along the way. The ounce of prevention to spare from an incurable pain. She loved them all to a fault, and that was something that not even Chaos could truly take from her.

The response passed her lips easily.

“I do.”

Their connection dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Spike sighed deeply, closed his eyes, and leaned back in the chair.

“I’m listening.”