“For Equestria!” Pinkamena Diane Pie heard her own voice yelling at her, but the speaker was anything but. The Element's dark copy mirrored her perfectly, even if it was shrouded in inky blackness with burning ember for eyes. The clone roared at her again, displaying razor-sharp teeth within a mouth that seemed to disappear when closed. The void-pony lifted her claymore above her head, the terrible blade of liquid darkness seemed to glimmer in the misty woodland. “This is the part where you fall down and bleed to death!”

“I don't wanna bleed!” Pinkie rolled to the side, barely dodging in time to avoid the negative sword. The equine acted on instinct and kicked out, sending the shadowy pony plashing into the mirror-like waters. In a rush, the party-lover's hooves grabbed at the claymore. While the Element barely found purchase, she triumphantly held the unnatural blade with ease. The mare was now faced with a dilemma, and it was one that could not be easily answered by anypony. With this claymore, the only weapon she had to protect herself with besides the Wabbajack, she would have to kill her copy in order to return to her friends.

“You wouldn't hurt me, would you, Pinkie?” The Element found herself looking at her sister, Inky, who appeared to be severely injured. The grey pony coughed a little, a small bit of blood spattered the inside of her hoof. Even though she knew it was a trick in the back of her mind, the straight-maned mare couldn't help herself when she offered her sibling a hoof.

“I'd never hurt you, Inky.” Sheogorath howled with laughter when she said that, breaking the moment like a hammer smashing through a window. Pinkie's kindness was repaid with an uppercut, and she was just as hurt emotional as physically when her sister's form melted into that of the Element's dark copy. The void-pony grinned maliciously as another claymore formed between her hooves, just as dark and evil as the first.

“You really are useless, aren't you?” The voice of Princess Celestia came from the unholy maw, driving a stake through the party-lover's heart with every word. The two Pinkies swung their sword in unison, the voids canceling and repelling one another as their eldritch materials made contact. The parry was something she'd read about in old stories and unlikely to work in reality, but the fake-Pinkie knew everything she did. The real Element realized this meant the genuine would be able to think outside the perceived barriers of morality that constrained her when she was duplicated.

“You're not even real!” The straight-maned pony slashed at her clone, a new fury lacing her body and mind. It was something righteous and pure, but even a blind stallion could see pure did not mean good. The old Pinkie would never lethally harm anypony, and the copy knew that. Too bad for her she was dealing with the new Pinkie Pie, a pony that would gladly end the life of somepony threatening her or her friends.

“What if I'm the real one and you're the fake?” The question filled Pinkamena with a new anger, another piece of straw on her manic hay bale. To the Element, it didn't matter if she was real. Her friends were real. Her family was real. Equestria was real. The Madgod was real. This all meant that she and her copy were both real enough to fight and die. Therefore, whichever Pinkie won would have the right to return to the real world and become real again. The void-pony looked at her stunned progenitor and laughed at the dumbfounded expression on her face.

Her merriment was cut short as her own claymore ran her through. The copy's burning eyes looked into their blue counterparts, sky-colored orbs that gleamed with intense glee as the sword sliced up the clone's abdomen. The void blade stopped at her ribs, but the upward pressure didn't lessen in the least. In her anger, Pinkie Pie lift her black twin over her head and slammed her into the mirror pool with enough force to imbed the blade into the soft clay beneath the water. A clap roused the Element from her stupor, drawing her attention to the Prince of Madness.

“You may not have fixed Pelagius's mind, but you put on a good show.” The bearded Daedra pulled the pink party-lover into a hug, seemingly overjoyed with her behavior. The Lord of the Never-There ruffled the pony's straight mane back into its poofy shape, but her smile failed to return. “Aw, whats the matter, little pony, torn up about killing yourself?”

“Of course not! She never existed, just a trick of the world on everypony.” Sheogorath grinned ear to ear at that. Never before had he found someone interested in what was real and what wasn't, at least never under his domain. “Now, how am I getting back to reality?”

“Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about that, Uncle Sheogorath has it all taken care of.”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“If you'll notice, your magic is causing the muscles in the arm to lightly contract and relax.” Reman pointed to the dummy's opened limb, where the artificial bicep thickened in response to Twilight's life-giving energy. While she was still miles away from summoning Daedra and making ephemeral armor, the Element of Magic was making great strides. The real boost to her performance came when the mare reverted to her regular self; fiery passion was well and good for Destruction, but nearly a death sentence when practicing Conjuration.

“That's actually pretty creepy.” Twilight observed the twitching muscles with the morbid fascination one might display when looking at a train wreck. While a powerful mage, the lavender pony had a low tolerance for the grotesque. It was no secret that she would have fled the room had an actual cadaver been presented in place of a fancy mannequin. “But, I suppose there is little that can be done about it.”

“Unfortunately, but at least we can move on to weapon binding soon.” Reman Tullius had quite a bit of time to perfect his craft, and conjuring blades and axes from Oblivion was just another facet of Conjuration. “Then we'll delve into more arcane techniques.”

“Those aren't dangerous, are they?” Twilight nearly jumped when the lycan laughed, but quickly put on an annoyed face. There were easier ways to say yes, but the Imperial desired to use the most abrasive method in his arsenal. It didn't matter that she'd been told twice that Conjuration was dangerous, but Celestia had always taught the Element to forge ever onward and ask questions whenever the chance was presented.

“Twilight, I've seen minds crushed for trying things they weren't ready for.” Reman was completely serious, and his now stoic face echoed his resolute nature. The mare hadn't considered any ramifications, especially not lethal ones, but being left an empty shell for one false step seemed extreme.

“That wouldn't involve the Prince of Knowledge, would it?” The sudden mention of the tentacled Prince caught the Imperial off guard. Reman sat up fast enough to make Twilight jump.

“How do you know about Hermaeus Mora?” The spellsword had never had personal dealings with the Prince, but he knew the stories as well as any scholar. When the mare refused to meet his gaze, the lycan grew worried. The Master of the Unknowable would likely harm the pony in the pursuit of information, even if it was unintentional, but there was a very real risk of cranial explosion involved. “Twilight, if something happened, you need to tell me.”

“There was this tentacle thing, and it went through my head like a migraine.” The purple pony's eyes shifted around the room, as though she was looking for some hidden means of listening in on the conversation. Finding nothing but her own paranoia, the Element continued. “And I've been having this feeling that I'm being watched.”

“Mara preserve us.” At Reman's reference to the goddess of love, Twilight grew truly worried. Religion was never something the Imperial spoke of,so hearing his small prayer sent off a few warning signals. The lycan immediately began packing up the embalming tools and stowing them inside the mannequin for later use. “We can practice again when we're back in Equestria.”

“Is this really that serious?” The lavender mare could hardly believe she even asked that.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“And that's how Cyrodiil was founded.” Applejack had been talking about Ponyville, which led to her family's hoof in the town’s creation. In true Imperial fashion, Antonius had to top the pony's story with his own tale. While the original Pelinal Whitestrake hadn't been a member of the Tullius Family, his reincarnation had been the line's patriarch.

“Y'all were slaves?” The short-haired man nodded, much to the farmer's surprise and horror. In a sense, learning this gave the orange mare a sense of kinship with the diplomatic race; earth ponies themselves had been forced to labor under unicorn rule before the princesses arrived, or so the story goes.

“This was over a thousand years ago, mind you, and we've more than risen above our ancient masters.” Antonius neglected to mention that the Ayleid culture had been annihilated by his people, but still managed to credit Saint Alessia with the formation of the First Empire. The legate was forced to use the simplest version of the Imperial Cult's canon, everything else was far too complicated to be mentioned in casual conversation. It was odd for the man to consider chatting with a talking pony casual in any sense of the word, but he also remembered everything that had happened in the past weeks or so. “We've gone on to build an empire the likes of which have never been seen on Tamriel.”

“What about those elves, the Aldmeri Dominion?” That was the other colorful equine Antonius had found himself speaking to today, Rarity. She seemed like she was pulled straight from Equestria's nobility, but the legate could tell it was cultivated rather than inborn. She was likely from Ponyville, if the Imperial remembered the town's name correctly.

“I can see Reman had to let you in on quite a few things you aren't quite ready for.” The two mares looked at the man as quizzically as they had his son their first time meeting him in human form. The greying man let out a sigh, the sort reserved for the exhausted and old. It seemed all the war and politics a Cyrodiil nobleman had to endure were wearing him thin, and Rarity thought she could see a little more grey appear in the man's hair just from thinking about the Dominion. “Suffice to say they aren't an entirely pleasant people, but all of that can wait for your other princess when she goes to the Imperial City.”

“Equestria wouldn't be in danger, would it?” Applejack was a hard worker, and she obviously had her countrymen, or would that be countrystallions?, and their best interest at heart. That sort of patriotism was hard to come by in many parts of the Empire these days, and it was part of the reason Antonius had a slight respect for the Stormcloaks. If the two bitter enemies could find common ground in their homeland, it only made the most logical of sense for the legate to identify with the mare on the same grounds.

“While it is unlikely with only one entrance to your world being open, there is still the distinct possibility the Dominion will attempt to subjugate your kingdom.” If the farmer was mature enough to worry about her nation's future, then she could handle the immense fear and worry that came with the territory. Reman had informed his father of Applejack's status as a hero; a Bearer of Harmony, to use the Equestrian term. “I would also recommend keeping those thoughts and questions to yourself; we may be fine here in private, but the Thalmor have eyes and ears everywhere on the streets.”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“Still shocked about everything?” Reman knew how difficult cultural immersion could be, he'd gone through as much during his year in Morrowind. The future father hoped Glade was adjusting well, though he briefly recalled his father's sour mood earlier and it seemed to coincide with the mare's questions.

“A bit, but I'm doing better than I expected.” The bleached mare rolled around on the large bed, looking for the most comfortable spot and completely ignoring the fact that she had to share. Most of the pony's real difficulty came from being regarded as an oddity, and she'd caught Legionnaires staring on more than one occasion. “But I've figured something out about you.”

“And what would that be?” Reman just had to hear this. It wasn't like he was trying to keep any secrets from the lycan, the case was quite the opposite, but the way Glade spoke made it sound like she'd deciphered an Elder Scroll.

“Why you don't eat much.” The Imperial hadn't been expecting that, but she raised a very valid point. He wasn't quite sure why he didn't eat much, but it probably balanced out with the amount of food he ate while transformed. Summer Glade rolled on her back and pointed an accusatory hoof at her forebear, a barely contained smile gracing her feature. “You're body thinks your starving.”

“Pardon?” That didn't seem quite right to the human. If his body thought he was starving, wouldn't that mean he was hungry all the time? The lycan resigned himself knowing that he didn't fully understand the body, if only because his old healing factor let him cut restoration out if he transformed regularly enough. “Are you sure starving is the right word?”

“In Equestria, I only remember seeing you eat three times, and you were there for a week. Your body metabolizes calories at a more efficient rate than most.”

“You're not getting a chance to try it for yourself.” Glade actually pouted at the Imperial for keeping her away from a more spartan lifestyle. It was obviously a way to rile him up, just to see how he'd react to the mare putting her health in danger. For some reason, the lycan pony thought of something completely unrelated to what was being said. “Have you seen Pinkie?”