Knowing that Fine is guaranteed to read this later, I must confess that I have always loved him. He changed my life in ways I cannot describe, and the only pony who could possibly share the sentiment is Octavia. The moment he first laid eyes on me, I was smitten. It was one of the most memorable moments of my life.

But, speaking strictly in terms of being memorable, that was nothing compared to the second time I met him. Those three months in the Canterlot dungeons will haunt me forever. It was then that I realized my infatuation with the stallion would take me places most sane ponies don’t want to go. I was terrified the entire time.

Yet I was also indebted.

I hate Celestia perhaps as much as Fine does, but I must also appreciate her. Had she not sought the path she had to ensure Fine’s suffering, I would not be where I am today. If she only ever did one thing right by me, it was that, even though her intentions were cruel. Now I sit here, writing in the forty-eighth Book of Shadows as a leading member of the most powerful clandestine organization in the world. Ponies live or die by my word, and the only ones who can stop me are Fine and Celestia. I have access to whatever I want, however and whenever I want it. By all rights, I’m living the high life of power and wealth.

None of this would have come to be without Fine. I owe him everything, from my power to my very life.

I would happily sacrifice it all if I could just give him what he wants.

—Fleur de Lis, Book of Shadows XLVIII

May 16, C.Y. 1007

They were chains. Plain, simple and obvious. Fine stared at them in the darkness, taking in the rusted shackles. He swallowed, but it did nothing to assuage the dryness in his throat. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”

Celestia stood beside him, sporting a smug smile. “Oh, yes. It’s going to hurt a lot.”

He hesitated. “I’m going to experience every bit of it, right?”

“Twelve weeks' worth.”

Fine sucked in a deep breath, but couldn’t slow his rapid heart rate. “But if I go through with it, I will be cured?”

Celestia giggled. It was the kind of sound a filly makes when knowing she is about to get her way. “There is no ‘if,’ Fine. You’re going through with it.”

He looked up at her, hope and uncertainty mixing in his expression. “But it will cure me.”

“Yes, it most certainly will.”

Another deep breath. Fine studied the chains once more, knowing he would soon be bound by them. The thought of being tied down and helpless for Celestia’s pleasure made him tuck his tail between his legs. “W-will you at least let me know what’s going to happen?”

Celestia waved to the restraints. “Get over there. I’ll explain once you're secured.”

“You’re relishing my terror, aren’t you?” Despite his trepidation, Fine couldn’t keep himself from moving forward. Knowing there was no point in resisting, he moved on autopilot and let his body obey the commands of Celestia on its own. Soon he was standing amongst the bindings. He looked to Celestia expectantly, not even bothering to hide his fear.

She stood at the edge of the small room, a calm, dark smile gracing her pale features. In the deep darkness she had the appearance of a specter or spirit.

“Put on the chains. Slowly.”

Fine cringed, his horn already lighting up. A shackle clamped around each leg, then a work collar around his neck. Two large half-pieces rose up to wrap around his midsection, snapping together with an echoing clang. A bearing rein attached to these reached over his head to a rubber bit and muzzle piece which, one set in place, prevented him from lowering his head below shoulder level. He clamped the locks and bolts tight, whimpering at the sounds produced.

An intense fear filled him as he realized his predicament. He tested his movement and found he couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction, and the bindings on his neck and face prevented him from turning his head. He felt a distinct urge to panic, especially knowing that he was trapped at Celestia’s mercy, but somehow he managed to keep his head. Slowly, carefully, he lay on his barrel. It was exceptionally uncomfortable with the metal wrapped around his midsection, but at least he could lower his head to the floor for rest when he needed to.

Celestia stood over him, still possessing her smug smile. “Good boy. Now, close your eyes.”

Fine’s breathing came in slow gasps around the bit, but he finally obeyed. He trembled like a leaf, waiting for whatever pain would come first. Instead, something cool and hard slipped around his horn. The moment it did, Fine felt the natural flow of his magic stifled as if a dam had been thrown over a river.

“There you go, we’re done. You may open your eyes now.”

Fine tried to look at his horn, but whatever she’d put on him was low enough that he couldn’t see it. He tried to speak through the bit, but could manage only inaudible noises, so he gave her a questioning look.

Celestia giggled. “It’s an inhibitor ring, Fine. The same one you used on Shining Armor, as a matter of fact.”

His breathing jumped to a fevered pitch to match the frantic pounding of his heart. He reached up to feel at the thing, but his bound hooves couldn’t go that high even while lying down. The memory of all the things she did to Shining Armor made him gag on his bit. He tried to shake his head and get the accursed thing off, not wanting to even think about the things that ring had allowed to happen in the past, but of course it was a fruitless struggle. He gazed up at Celestia with pleading eyes.

“Oh, that is such a cute look.” Celestia licked the bottom of her hoof and offered a toothy grin. “Well, now that you’re all comfortable, it’s time I told you what this cure involves. I’m sorry to say that it has nothing to do with whips, latex or safe words.”

She began to pace, speaking in a half-lecturing, half-amused tone. “You see, there is really only one guaranteed way to cure a pony of the Bloodmane. That method is simple: you must suffer withdrawal.”

Fine’s eyes grew wide and he promptly began thrashing in his bindings, but Celestia went on. “You must not kill a pony for a period of around twelve weeks. Of course, it could be longer. Depends on the pony.”

Fine had tears running down his face. He tried to voice his pleas, but the words came out as muffled nonsense. Celestia smiled down at him and raised his chin with her magic.

“As you are no doubt aware, letting a vision pass without killing leads to pain. Mild at first, but growing worse with every passing day. I understand your record is eight weeks, and I’m sure you remember how excruciating that was.”

For the first time in his life, Fine prayed. He closed his eyes and tried not to remember the constant stream of visions, the evil voices filling his brain to bursting or the endless, fiery pain. He tried to tell himself, over and over again, that it was necessary. It did nothing to assuage the pure adrenaline pumping into his system.

“Bring her.”

Fine’s eyes opened upon as he realized Celestia hadn’t been addressing him. Though his heartbeat pounded in his ears and his breath came in gasps around the bit, he worked through the near-panic of his mind and tried to focus. His sight, momentarily blurred, regained its clarity.

A pony was being ushered into the room. She was young, perhaps only twelve or thirteen, with a pearly coat and pale pink mane. A unicorn filly with unusually long legs, who stared at him with wide, horrified eyes. By the comprehension in them, she seemed to recognize Fine, but he couldn’t place her. The colors were familiar, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Celestia set her forehooves on the filly’s shoulders and looked Fine in the eyes. There was a menace to her smile that made him shiver.

“Do you recognize her, Fine?”

He attempted to shake his head against the restraints. When he did, the filly sunk low as if wounded.

“Tell him your name, child.” Celestia patted the filly on the head, her gaze never leaving Fine.

The filly’s ears perked and she stood up to her full height once more. Her gaze hopeful, she looked upon Fine and spoke in a thick Grypha accent: “My name is Fleur Purpurnyj.” She leaned forward a little. “You remember me?”

Fine would have jumped to his hooves if not for the weight of the metal holding him down. He stood slowly, all of his self-directed horror shifted in a new direction as he gaped first at the filly, then at the princess. He forgot his bit and tried to speak, but stopped halfway upon realizing he was incomprehensible.

“I thought you’d recognize the name.” Celestia grinned, her hoof running up and down the filly’s back soothingly. Fine watched its lethargic movements, his stomach twisting as he imagined her stomping on the filly’s back. “That was your very first independent mission, wasn’t it? You told Hoofknife you did the job to perfection. Did you really think he’d miss that you let one member of the family live?”

Fine’s eyes flicked from Fleur to Celestia and back, again and again and again. He tried to reach up to the bit in his mouth, but no matter how he strained he couldn’t reach it. He tried to vocalize his plea, silently begging that mercy be shown on the foal.

Celestia whispered something to the Fleur, who slowly approached him. She paused before him, staring at the chains binding his hooves. Fine stood stone still, his heart pounding frantically as he tried to think of a way out of both their situations. When at last the filly looked up, her cheeks were moist with tears.

“I looked for you. I came all vay from Grypha. To s-sank you.” She reared up and wrapped her hooves around his neck, just beneath the collar on his throat. “You saved my life. Now I save yours.”

Fine gaped at the filly, who rested her head against his shoulder with a contented sigh. He turned his uncertain gaze upon Celestia.

The princess flashed a smile. “Miss Purpurnyj will be your caretaker for the next twelve weeks. She will provide you with food and water, clean you and keep you healthy. She seems to have something of a hero’s image of you, which I find rather cute.”

A fresh horror tore through Fine’s mind as he realized just what was happening. Whimpering, he once again struggled to shake his head. He wanted to pull away from the filly, but couldn’t move any further back than he already was. Attempts to push her away proved fruitless. He closed his eyes and imagined himself choking the life out of the Fleur. If even one chain came loose…

“I vill make you better.” Fleur gazed up at him with what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile, though her lips faltered and her ears were folded back. “I promise, I vill vork hard to fix your mind! You vill get better. I vill make you better.”

She didn’t understand. Celestia hadn’t told her everything, surely.

“I think I’ll leave you two to it,” Celestia said, her tone as friendly and kind as ever he’d heard. “It’s going to be a good three weeks before your symptoms show up again. Why don’t you take this time to get acquainted?” She winked at Fine as she exited the room, and he could do nothing but shout through the bit.

“Dinner time.”

Fine groaned from around his bit, lifting his head from the floor with agonizingly sore muscles. Lying on his barrel with that metal ring around his midsection for so long left him with a perpetual ache, for the metal had rubbed his hide raw. He winced at a sharp pain in his side, then looked down at the mixture of finely shredded fruits and vegetables laid before him in a feedbag. At its side were two buckets of soapy water with a towel each and a large, closed case.

Fleur, her mane and coat dirty, gave him a hopeful look. “Come, Mr. Crime. Please?”

He looked from the feedbag to her, then raised his head as high as he could.

The filly sagged with a pout. “You cannot get better if you do not eat. Do you not vant to be better?” When he refused to look at her, she sighed and lifted the feedbag in a light pink aura, setting it around his muzzle. He made no attempt to resist, knowing from experience that it would be futile to try.

He had to admit, she was getting better. In the past she made the morsels too big to fit between his teeth and the bit, but now he could easily suck much of the food down with no attempts at chewing. The taste was welcome, too; at least he wasn’t being fed the dregs of the crop. The only thing souring his appreciation of that was the knowledge that Celestia was only protecting her ‘asset.’

“Sere you go.” Fleur rubbed a gentle hoof along his shoulder, her voice sweet. “Sat is better, is it not?” She walked behind him. “Oh, you have made anoser mess. I apologize, I sought I had timing right by now.”

Fine felt the heat come to his cheeks and closed his eyes. He heard one of the buckets scrape across the floor, and then the moist towel rubbing up and down his sullied hind legs. He bit down on his bit and tried to ignore the shame as she rubbed the thing beneath his tail and across his anus. Even after dozens of times, he still hated this part.

“Now, let us take look at you, hmm?” He could hear Fleur walking around to study him, her hooves touching at his side right where the metal could be found. “Oh, you have bled again. You must not move so much, Mr. Crime, it only makes it vorse.”

As if he didn’t know that already; just shifting to try and find a more comfortable position could lead to agony. He flinched as she used the towel from the other bucket to wipe at his coat all around the clamp, front and back, both sides. That done, she opened the large case and took out one of six white bottles. A small, soft rag also rose, and she began covering it in the foul-smelling blue gel that rolled out of the bottle. Once she had a good amount, she floated the rag to Fine’s side.

She came within his peripheral vision and gave him an apologetic look. “Are you ready?”

With a long sigh, he nodded and braced himself.

The rag was squeezed between Fine and the clamp. The gel was as cold as ice and made Fine tense up as it was slowly rubbed all over his hidden hide. The cold was bad enough, but when it reached the torn skin a searing pain ripped through Fine. He moaned and shivered, biting down on the bit with all his strength as the rag rubbed the gel deep into the wound. At last it passed, going out the other side of the clamp. Fine relaxed, panting heavily as Fleur prepared a second dosage.

As with every other time, it took a half-dozen passes before Fleur had lathered every part of Fine’s raw hide with the substance, bringing both an intense cold wherever it touched and excruciating pain whenever it came upon a wound. As soon as she was done, Fine lowered his head to the floor and tried to relax muscles aching from having been so tense for so long.

“Sere,” Fleur said with a weak smile. “No infections for today. You vill feel better soon, right?”

Fine replied with a glower, at which she winced.

“I know, it is not easy.” She sighed and sat, shaking her head. “I do not understand vy I do sis. Princess said I vill make you better, but do I?”

How was Fine meant to respond to that? Not just in a literal sense; although he could be considered more miserable than he could ever recall, the fact was that in the end this would help him... provided Celestia was honest about the treatment. Of that he couldn’t be sure. The thought that Celestia might be doing this just to make him suffer was a horrifying thought, and a difficult one to put down. Then again, everything Celestia did seemed to have some purpose in the end.

Except Cadance and Shining.

He closed his eyes with a growl. Not helping, brain.

“It is okay.” Fleur stroked his mane. “Please, it vill be fine. You vill be better, ve will get out of sis dark place. And sen… sen you can look after me, maybe?”

Fine rolled his eyes up to study her. Fleur turned her face away, but he didn’t miss the worry in her eyes. She’d mentioned this little dream of hers before, that he might take care of her. How could she have developed such an image of him? The very idea of him as a father figure might have made him laugh if he weren’t in so much pain. He wished he could tell her just how bad an idea that was. If only—

Chains clattered as Fine jerked to his hooves, eyes wide and focused on the filly. Fleur jumped back as he let out a vicious growl, her eyes going wide. His body tense, Fine focused on maintaining control even as he watched chains wrap around Fleur’s throat. He pulled on them, squeezing her neck as she gasped and offered a futile struggle against his superior strength.

“Mr. Crime, vat is vrong?”

He gasped, the vision shifting out just long enough for him to see Fleur standing unharmed before him with a concerned expression. His legs jerked against the chains, sending a stab of pain through him. A beam erupted from his horn and struck her in the face, and Fleur shrieked. She fell back, face covered in black and blood leaking from her eyes.

“Please, stop! You are hurting yourself!”

She grabbed his face in both hooves and tried to stop his thrashing; he responding with a muffled roar in her face that sent her scampering back to the wall.

Blood. He needed to see her bleed. He tugged against the chains, groaning at the pain the act induced. He fought to force some magic out of his horn, but it was like throwing eggs at a brick wall. He could almost hear her bones breaking, and he couldn’t make the fantasy a reality!

“V-vat is vrong? Please, Mr. Crime, tell me! I vant to help!”

The urge died just as quickly as it came. Fine collapsed to his belly, his head throbbing with a familiar ache. It took a few seconds for the pain to fade, but that only made him aware of the terrible sting in his legs and waist. He looked to his forelegs and saw no blood, but by the pain in them he knew he’d probably broken the hide. Again.

A terrible understanding struck Fine; this was only the beginning. The visions would grow stronger, the pain of withdrawal would get worse, and he was being cared for by a filly who hadn’t even been told the truth of his condition. His first vision meant they were in week three…

Celestia said he had to be in this state for twelve weeks. Fine closed his eyes tight, a terrible chill running down his spine. He sobbed as dread took over and left him imagining the sheer agony and horror of the next three months.

“It is okay. P-please do not cry.” Fleur was petting his mane again. “I vill make you better, Mr. Crime. I vill. It vas just little panic attack. In few moments I get fresh buckets and clean you again.”

He relished her voice and touch.

They were the only comforts he’d be getting for a long time.

Chains rattled in the darkness. Fine’s breathing came in slow gasps. He pulled one way, tugged another. Each motion sent jolts of agony through his legs, neck and waist. He relished the sensation; anything to take his mind off the throbbing, constant ache that filled his entire body. His vision was red… or was that the blood on the walls?

“Vy?” A filly lay curled in the corner of the room. She sobbed as she watched him squirm against his bonds. “Vy von’t you calm down? I j-just vanted to help.”

She had long gashes in her sides.

Or did she?

Blood pooled around her body, then disappeared.

Hurt her. Kill her. Kill her and the pain will stop.

He screamed, spittle rolling off the bit in his mouth and dribbling down his chin. His body lurched towards her, the bite of the metal searing into his legs. She flinched and covered her face.

He couldn’t say the words, so he thought them. Stop cowering, you little pelt! Let me go!

Fleur merely trembled.

Fleur? Was that her name?

Who cares what her name is! Rip her apart, make her bleed!

The pain swam up his spine and into his head, a pulsating throb against which he had no defense. He shouted obscenities through the bit and tensed as the fire consumed him. He bit down so hard he thought he could feel the metal beneath the rubber. When the wave subsided, Fine fell to his barrel and attempted to bang his head against the floor, but the bearing rein kept him from making any significant impact. Slowly, so very slowly, the pain receded. Fine relaxed and sobbed as a tingling sensation ran through him, something he had become intimately familiar with.

Fine had long lost count of the number of attacks he’d had. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to look at the still-crying Fleur. The scent of blood reached his nostrils, and he knew it was his own. He could feel the slickness of it on his hooves. He didn’t care anymore; if it were up to him, he’d make sure he bled out. It was a far better fate than waiting for the next vision to strike.

Perhaps it had been seconds. Perhaps hours. Eventually, Fine heard hoofsteps.

“It is okay, Mr. Crime. Y-you are okay.”

Fleur brushed his mane, which had lost all its remaining dye and shone a bright red. Something – a few somethings – hit the floor, and Fine whimpered.

“I need to clean your vounds. P-please, remain still?”

Fleur must have took his silence as acceptance, for she began to clean one of his forelegs around the metal cuff. He kept his eyes firmly closed, not daring to look at her lest a vision hit. The soapy water stung horribly, but Fine considered it a welcome distraction to the murderous thoughts still clawing at the back of his mind. They wouldn’t remain there for long; in time they would push to the surface again. Perhaps Fleur was aware of this, for she worked quickly. She cleaned both front legs and soon began work on his neck. He had to lift his head for her to get the bottom of the big collar.

“Sis needs to stop, Mr. Crime.” Her voice shook as she whispered in his ear. “Please, you have to control it. At sis rate, I von’t be able to clean often enough. You could get infected.”

He knew that, but what could he do save keep his eyes closed and hope the withdrawal didn’t come back? Even so, he managed to nod for her.

Things were silent for a time, save for Fine’s occasional whimpers and the rattle of chains when a dab of water made him flinch. He spent all his time trying to quiet the violent instinct in his brain. The best way to do that was to imagine a lot of that violence being directed Celestia’s way.

“Sis…”

He shifted from his stupor, ears perking to Fleur’s voice. She had stopped cleaning him.

“S-sis… is not going to end vell, is it?”

He shifted his head sideways as best he could, taking in her depressed tone. The sound of dripping water accompanied her voice.

“I had big dreams. I vorked hard to get scholarship, just to come to Equestria and find you.” The rag rubbed beneath the shackle of a back leg, moving slowly. “I sought, ‘If I can find Equestrian hero, I vill be happy.’ Everysing was meant to be good now.”

She leaned against his flank. It made his side burn, but Fine made no attempt to protest. Water splashed lightly as she soaked the rag again, then she began cleaning around the metal on his barrel.

“Princess said I could help you. I vas so excited.” She sighed and stepped back from him; Fine could just see her tail out of the corner of her eye. “Vy must reality get in way of dreams?”

For a time, Fleur continued cleaning him. It seemed her monologue had ended. He closed his eyes and recalled the first time he’d seen her, long ago on the plains of Grypha. That had been a bloody night. He’d assumed the filly would never want to see him again, yet here she was, willingly caring for his health. It would have been better if she’d stayed at the orphanage in Stalliongrad.

She finished at last, and Fine watched as she walked to the door, buckets levitated behind her. “I need to change water.” She hesitated at the door, head hanging low. Fine noted her bloody hoofprints… or not? She looked back at him from over her shoulder.

“Do you sink I could be vith you ven sis is over?”

Fine shouldn’t have opened his eyes. He saw cracks running down her horn and a wicked grin formed on his lips. He tried to move for her, the chains jerking him back painfully. Snarled erupted from his throat and he struggled with his aching horn.

Fleur sighed and left the room, the door closing with a resounding clang.

Bitch.

The chains rattled.

Foul, ugly little monster.

Blood pounded in its ears.

Let me go. Eyeballs. So ugly.

The filly stepped back, shaking as it strained for her with a twisted grin.

Pop them out. Use your horn. Break it off.

She stared up at it, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had no eyes. Her tears were blood.

Beautiful. Let me show you how beautiful you can be.

It could feel blood trickling down its barrel. It snorted and grit its teeth against the pain.

Kill her. Kill. Celestia. Kill her. Fleur. Kill her. Kill kill kill.

Though her lip trembled, she displayed the two buckets to it. “I-I’m going to t-take care of you, Mr. Crime. Please, hold still?”

It pulled back, then lurched forward to strain against the bonds. A hiss, both pained and threatening, rose from around the half-chewed-through rubber.

Come closer. Let me go. Break those fragile little bones.

She stepped closer and reached a hoof. It jerked its head, but couldn’t reach that far to the side. Even so, she pulled back.

Bite it. Let me go. Let me go!

“I p-promised.” Sucking in a shaky breath, she took the buckets and moved around to its side. Its eyes followed her, steam rising from its nostrils with every snort. “I said I v-vould take care of you. I vill do vat I say.”

Little bitch. Gonna pee? Cut you open, make a new hole.

The chill of the cleaning solution touched its side. It twisted away as best it could.

“H-hold still, I know it hurts.”

It roared and thrashed; she leapt back and dropped the rag.

Bitch! Little pink monster! I’ll pour that blue vomit down your throat!

She spoke to herself in her native tongue, unaware that it understood every word. “You can do this, Fleur. Y-you said you would. He’s just sick. Celestia said twelve weeks. Just a few m-more.”

It snarled at her, pulling as tightly against the bearing rein as it could and ignoring the moisture trickling from its neck. Celestia! The queen bitch! I’ll rip that horn off her ugly head and ram it up her ass. Get me out of here, let me go. Let me go. Let me go! It tried screaming the phrase, not caring that it came out muffled.

“Get through it, Fleur,” she whispered, still in griffon. “Just a little l-longer, and he’ll be okay. He will. Please let him be okay.” She approached again, coming out of its line of sight. It felt the rag squeezing under its bindings and howled.

“A little longer. The nightmare w-will be over. Th-three more weeks.”

The world was dark. Fine lay sprawled on his stomach, breath coming in a slow, steady rhythm. The only illumination came from a dim light beneath the door. He focused on it, watching the swaying patterns of what was probably a lamp. A gurgling growl rose from his stomach, but he ignored it.

His head felt… he settled upon ‘clear’ as the best descriptor. It seemed as though his skull had been stuffed full of cotton his entire life. Though he had no idea what it meant, it was a remarkable relief, like a massive weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying had fallen away. He didn’t ache anymore, either, save for where his bindings continued to leave his skin raw and on the verge of breaking.

The door opened. Fine sat up as Fleur crept in, her head bowed and eyes on the floor. Her hooves dragged, her mane was a mess and the two buckets she levitated barely grazed the floor. She paused halfway inside and waited. Fine stared at her, anticipating the vision and pain and blood.

Time passed.

Fine blinked. Nothing happened.

Fleur raised her head to stare at him. Nothing happened.

Seconds turned to a minute.

And nothing happened.

“M-Mr. Crime?” She took a tentative step forward, a trace of hope in her voice. “Do you… do you understand me?”

Even after all that waiting, comprehension still hadn’t dawned upon him. His eyes began to widen. He closed them tight, counted to ten, opened them again. He saw no blood, felt no rage. Just… hunger.

“Mr. Crime?”

Fine worked his jaw around the bit, which somehow still had rubber left. “Flrr?”

Fleur gasped, the two buckets hitting the floor with twin clangs. She hurried to him and held his cheeks in her hooves, examining him closely. “Y-you are okay? Not angry vith me?”

He wasn’t. He didn’t feel so much as a mild frustration. His lips began to curl back into a grin as reality hit him, and he abruptly burst into mad giggling. Tears spilled from his cheeks.

It was gone.

Fleur leapt into him, legs wrapping about his neck as she sobbed. The work collar on his throat burned from the contact, but he merely laughed. He tried to hold her in turn, but couldn’t move his legs far enough, so he set his chin on her shoulder. Together, in that dark place somewhere beneath Canterlot, they laughed and cried as one.

Abruptly, Fleur jumped back. She touched at his collar with an expression half concerned and half thrilled. She even forgot to speak Equestrian. “I’m sorry, that must have hurt. I just can’t believe it’s over. Oh, praise the Sun, it’s over! And three days early, if my calendar’s right.” She gasped, hooves dancing on the concrete. “That means I can get Celestia to let you out!”

Horror filled Fine, who gave a muffled shout and raised his hooves as high as he could, waving them. Fleur had half-turned away, but turned back at the noise. She cocked her head and spoke in Equestrian again. “I am sorry, but I must get Celestia.”

He shook his head as best he could.

“No?” Fleur cocked her head and gestured to his chains. “But she is only pony who can free you. Do you not vant out?”

Sighing with relief, he moved his hooves in a calming gesture.

“I do not understand. I sought you vould be happy to be free.” She leaned forward, taking in his imploring expression. He tapped a hoof to the floor three time. “Sree? Vy… You vant to vait sree days?”

He nodded as best he could and tried to smile. Even without the bit it would have been forced.

Fleur’s ears folded back and she chewed her lip. “Vell, I suppose. I really vant to get out of sis place, but… sree more days vouldn’t hurt.” She approached at his gesture and accepted his grateful nuzzle with a blush.

Three days. He might be chained like a common animal, but it would be three days without going violently mad, without the pain and fury of the Bloodmane, without having to worry about Celestia breathing down his neck. Though his legs and waist were as sore as ever, that was something he could put up with. He might as well be on vacation in Bermooda.

And then there was Fleur. Celestia would have plans for her, probably something horrid. He needed time to consider the possibilities and prepare for them. The filly had just seen him through one of the most horrible ordeals of his life.

He wasn’t about to abandon her to Celestia’s whims.

Fine could hear the filly talking well before the door opened. He sat tall and waited patiently, ready for whatever was about to be thrown his way. He ran through possibilities, each worse than the last, and bit down on the rubber.

The door opened and Fleur’s voice resounded in his ears. “Vait until you see, Princess! He is new stallion. Come, look.”

Celestia strode through the door, a bouncing filly hot on her heels. She had that calm, calculating smile he’d grown accustomed to, the same smile she got when she knew something unpleasant may be about to happen. She sat before Fine, who matched her smile with a patient, emotionless stare. Fleur, apparently unaware of the sudden friction in the room, pranced to Fine’s side and beamed up at the princess.

Celestia said nothing, and neither Fine nor Fleur pressed her. It was apparent that she was waiting for him to react. Though Fleur fidgeted with barely contained excitement, Fine kept perfectly still, his eyes set upon Celestia’s.

At last the princess nodded. “Well, it seems you are all better. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

His eyelids lowered, but he managed to keep from growling.

“Well, no time like the present.” Celestia’s horn shined. “Let’s test this out properly, hmm?”

The shackles on Fine’s legs snapped open one at a time, revealing hairless, bright red skin covered in blisters and scabs. The bearing rein and collar were removed, allowing Fine to work his jaw properly, and he smacked his lips a few times. It seemed odd to not have the taste of rubber on his tongue.

At last, the main casing around his barrel was removed, and this time it really was a great weight off his back. He stretched with a low moan, then glanced back to find much of his midsection in a similar condition to the rings around his legs. It was a nasty sight to say the least, but Fine didn’t care. His coat would grow back; the Bloodmane wouldn’t.

At least, he presumed it wouldn’t.

“All better?”

He looked up at Celestia and her smug smile that made his stomach roil. Yet despite his loathing, he knew that she had this coming, so he grudgingly bowed his head to her. “It is. Th… Thank you, Celestia.”

She cocked her head, a hoof to her chin. “Really? Even knowing what a big favor I did for you, I assumed the nine weeks of ever-worsening agony would make you hate me for this.”

He smirked as he pushed the magic inhibitor ring from his horn. “Disappointed?”

She raised her hooves in a shrug. “Maybe a little. That’s okay, though, I’ll fix that pretty quickly.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, his frown coming back. “And for the record, I do still hate you. I’m just obligated to give credit where it’s due.” He leaned over and nudged the grinning Fleur. “Even if you didn’t spend the time with me like Fleur did.”

“Well, I do have a world of misery to run.” Celestia chuckled and turned to Fleur. Her voice became motherly. “Now then, I believe it’s time for a little filly’s reward.”

Fine tensed in preparation, while Fleur bounced in place. Once again, she forgot to speak in Equestrian. “I did good, didn’t I? It was really hard, but I pulled through just as I promised!”

Celestia nodded and spoke in perfect griffon. “You did wonderfully, Miss Purpurnyj, and I’m sure Fine appreciates your hard work, but I’m afraid our business is at an end.”

The filly paused and cocked her head with an uncertain frown. She sat back to think on this response, clearly at a loss. Celestia eyed her with that dangerous smile, then turned her eyes upon Fine. His ears perked.

“Kill her.”

“What?” Fleur jumped to her hooves, eyes huge and pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “B-but I did what you asked!”

“And you did a remarkable job,” Celestia agreed, ever with that pleasant smile. “Yet I’m afraid you know far too much now. We can’t have unpredictable little ponies running around Equestria telling others about the cure for the Bloodmane, now can we?”

Fine had been fighting with himself throughout this conversation, but at last his body turned to Fleur of its own accord. The filly backed away from him, head shaking frantically. “N-no, please. You saved me back in Grypha, I… I saved you now. You w-wouldn’t really kill me, w-would you, Mr. Crime?”

As a matter of fact, he had no intention of it. This was one of the scenarios Fine had predicted. Now he just had to hope his predictions were accurate. “Celestia, wait.”

The princess raised an eyebrow, her expression curious. “Go ahead.”

The tension in Fine’s legs eased, but he kept himself from heaving a relieved sigh. He turned to her, determined to maintain a businesslike manner. “I think it would be better if we named Fleur an Archon.”

Celestia chuckled and shook her head. “Ah, yes, I saw this one coming from a mile away. She’s a little young for Archon work, is she not?”

“She’ll be less obvious that way,” he countered, offering his own confident smile. “She can’t be more than thirteen. If you check the records, you’ll find I was that age when I signed up.”

“Hmm…” Celestia glanced between the two of them. “Of course, you’re just trying to protect her because she helped you through a traumatic ordeal. Will she really make for a good Archon?”

“You’re absolutely right, I am trying to protect her.” He nodded at Fleur, whose face lit up at the affirmation. “I’m also acknowledging a valuable resource. Fleur has no family ties – I personally made sure of that – and from listening to her these past few months I know that her primary direction for the past four years has been finding me. Then she remained here for twelve weeks tending to a raging maniac. I believe that’s called loyalty, and I can use it.”

“You are enjoying this.” Celestia grinned at him. “Do you really think I hadn’t already thought of all that?”

“Oh, I know you did,” he replied with confidence. “But you weren’t going to let me take her in unless I made the arguments, right?”

Fleur sputtered, her cheeks going red and hope in her eyes. “T-take me in?” She clamped her lips between two hooves when Fine made a silencing motion.

Celestia studied Fine, her smirk growing broader by the second. He held his ground and maintained a confident demeanor, but in his mind he prayed. He had a backup plan, but if this didn’t work then Fleur’s chances would be slim. If the princess stared for long enough he might start sweating bricks.

“Very well.” Celestia nodded at last. “I will permit this. After all, she did do a good job and may prove valuable.”

It took all Fine’s willpower not to show his relief. “Excellent. I will—”

She raised a hoof. “I have one condition.” She turned to Fleur. “Listen well, little one, for this is important.”

Fleur nodded frantically. “I’ll listen, I will!”

“Good.” The princess turned back to Fine. “I don’t want the cure for the Bloodmane being known to the public. So, if Fleur ever reveals this information to the general public, you will kill her immediately, as well as any ponies she told. Am I clear, Fine?”

She always knew precisely where to poke, didn’t she? Fine offered the princess a toothy smile and replied through clenched teeth, “Like an expertly crafted window, seconds before I buck it into a thousand tiny shards.”

“Remember, those shards can cut deep.” Celestia giggled, then turned to the door. “Well, I’ll give you the night to recover. Tomorrow it’s back to the grindstone for you, my little pony.”

Fine kept his grin until after Celestia had been gone for a few seconds. “Goddess, but I hate that mare.”

“Umm… Mr. Crime?” Fleur was sitting by the wall, her head low but her eyes hopeful. “Are you really going to take me in?”

He sighed and rubbed his head; dealing with her was going to be a trick. “Well… yes.”

She all but tackled him, hooves clamping around his sore neck. “Yes! Thank you, thank you so much!”

He cringed at the pain of her touch, but held her tightly anyway. He spoke to her in griffon, suspecting it would be easier for her. “You did me a huge service, Fleur. I should be the one thanking you. But know it won’t be easy.”

“I don’t care!” She pulled back and rubbed tears from her eyes. “I’ll finally have a family again, even if it’s just one pony. And the fact that it’s you makes it even better!”

With hooves to her shoulders, Fine pushed her into a sitting position. “Now hold on, Fleur, I need you to understand this situation. I just got you named an Archon. Do you know what that means?”

“Umm…” She bowed her head. “I th-think so. Even in Grypha, everypony and everygriffon were afraid of Archons. It’s like being the Boogiepony.”

Fine couldn’t help smiling; she was charmingly accurate. “That’s right, we’re boogieponies. We have to do bad things, but we try to only do them to bad ponies. Celestia will have us hurt the good ones too, though.”

“L-Like how she wanted you to kill me?” Tears returned to her eyes and she chewed her lip. “I thought Celestia was a good pony.”

With a fresh sigh, Fine held the filly close. “I’m sorry, Fleur, but she’s not. She’s the most evil pony in the world, and we work for her.”

“D-do we have to?” she looked up at him with hopeful eyes, cheek pressed to his skin-bare chest. “Why not just leave?”

He knelt to her level and offered as pleasant a smile as he could offer. “We can’t. It’s impossible.” At her frown, he set his hoof beneath her chin. “I’m going to teach you. You’ll learn how to be an Archon, but you’ll also learn how to avoid hurting the wrong ponies. It’s going to be tricky, and I need you to be a good student. Can you do that for me?”

Her lips curved up and she rubbed her tears away. “I can do anything for you, Mr. Crime.”

“Please, call me Fine.” Fleur giggled at his cringing face and nodded. “From here on out, you’re my apprentice. And…” He leaned over to observe her cutie mark. “I’m giving you a new name.”

Her giggling went on for a few seconds as she worked to control herself. “I think ‘Fleur Crime’ sounds silly.”

“Actually, I was thinking ‘Fleur de Lis.’ ”

She blinked, then turned to study her flank. She grinned and nodded. “I like that one.”

“Good.” He hesitated, glancing at the door. He half expected Celestia to be listening in, but what did it matter? “Thank you, Fleur. Thank you for staying with me all this time. You’ve given me a special gift, and I will never forget it.”

“It was scary.” She examined him, rubbing a hoof along the coat beneath his red-skinned flesh. With a warm smile, she leaned into him. “It was worth it.”

He held her close, enjoying her peaceful presence. Yet his mind was far from comforted, for Fine knew what this moment really meant for her. He’d not just acquired an apprentice, but also an ally. His first in the great trial that was coming. Fine knew that he would probably fail, and in all likelihood Fleur would burn with him.

Yet his thoughts turned to a filly whose parents had been tortured, to a crying statue hidden in the woods, to a pair of lovers lost in the darkness, and to a foal whose mind had been ripped in two.

For the first time in his life, Fine’s mind was clear. He had Celestia to thank for that.

He would do so by spending the rest of his life seeking a way to bring her down.

Author's Notes:

Before anyone asks, yes, we will get to a book focused on Fleur. Just not yet.

I've been applying dates to everything for a reason, that being that this story will not be written in chronological order. The next book will take place much later in the timeline, and I figured applying the dates to each scene would allow the more resourceful to determine when things are happening and the age of the characters. With that in mind, here are two important dates taken directly form my timeline doc:

September 3: C.Y. 970 — Verity Fine, later Fine Crime, is born in Baltimare.
August 20: C.Y. 976 — Fleur Purpurnyj, later Fleur de Lis, is born in Zamoroʐyenniye Krilo in Grypha.

This makes Fine 19 as of this chapter and Fleur 13. I know, 19 is extremely early to be ruling the world's most powerful espionage organization, but in his defense Fine's life has been hell and he had to grow up extremely fast. The birthdays carry over in all the different timelines of this AU, so that means the characters were born on the same day (but not necessarily the same place) in the Trixie vs. Equestria, No Heroes and Fleur timelines.

FYI: C.Y. stands for "Celestial Year."

Technically, this ends Fine's book. However, I have an intermission chapter to publish next week, and that chapter will also be from Fine's perspective. After that we move on to the next major character.