Chapter 32: Lady of the Dead
Unmarked Cave, near overgrown shore of the Isle of Goats

She stood and stretched. Her ligaments and tendons worked despite their age. Her muscle and skin had begun growing back, but currently she was little more than a partially muscle covered skeleton. To see her would cause one to think that they were seeing a monster, and they wouldn’t be wrong. She had become a monster long ago. When she joined Grogar instead of fighting against him. He’d taken her need to know the power of death, and he cultivated a powerful student.

Of course she believed that she surpassed her old master. His vision was limited after all. She wanted to rule all death, all of the dead, and she was on the edge of doing so. Still, that new Princess and her chosen love were a wrench in the works. These isles were a perfect breeding ground for her magic. The Changeling Queen she had foalnapped ages ago, and of course had since absorbed into herself, allowed her to use emotions for magic. Keeping the entire island in a state of terror, or hopelessness, and a grim determination to just survive was more than enough to power her magic. The unicorns she would steal away from their families was the second part of it.

Thousands, from the hundreds of years that she had existed on these isles, adorned their eternal slumber. She used them as batteries, sucking the very magic from them, and of course occasionally when she grew tired of her body she would select one to use. That was the plan with the purple maned one. She had a perfect figure, wide hips, generous bust, and while such things were not overly important to her she would have preferred to look as though she was a Queen worth serving.

Instead she was forced to regrow her own body. Creating it from the bones of her original self. It was a long and painful process. Every few seconds a new bundle of nerves would awaken and remind her of the unpleasant nature of creating a body. She would feel the sharp pain of being mostly skinless, of feeling every single pebble that would get caught in the frog of her hooves, and of course she suffered the feeling of the new skin on her forming muscles as it stretched near to the point of breaking. She would have chosen a female from the ones she collected, but none of them were suitable.

They were very plain, their busts mostly small, their frames designed to hold muscle over beauty. They were built for work and having foals. Perhaps for some drunken farmer they would be fine, but for her they were useless. She had worked so hard to get back the power that was sealed away from her too. That foolish unicorn, Jolie Maison, had managed to seal her away, locking her away from the ponies here, locking the isle with the magic he had powered by the love for his mares and foals. Love, she scoffed at the idea. Love was a useless emotion, and whatever power it might have was woefully outclassed by more conventional means of power.

Still, he had managed to seal her away, lock her under the mountain, and if it hadn’t been for a curious young filly exploring this very cave then she would have remained trapped. Instead she was free to do what she wished. Of course that included returning to her original plan. Take full control of the dead and of death itself. Another shot of pain rushed through her exposed muscles. Her skin was reforming, but it was doing so painfully slow. The simple act of standing while the air around her touched her bare muscles was enough to remind her of pain.

But pain itself was useful. It was a teacher, confidant, and ally. She had long since learned that pain would allow her the chance of completely dominating and destroying those that would dare oppose her. Pain was the very thing she planned on teaching that new Princess. She felt a tendril of muscle form around her fingers on her left hand. She raised it, feeling the new nerves, the unrepenting agony of sweet pain as she waited for her skin to reform.

The other reason she wanted the purple maned one was because her own body had been close to the same. She had been a beauty that few could compare to. Oh, the Princesses were far more beautiful, but then that was comparing immortal goddesses to a mortal form. To any other normal mare she was astoundingly beautiful. She had her pick of suitors, but it was Grogar that enticed her. It wasn’t his looks. No, Grogar was not what one would even remotely consider handsome. At that point he’d been practicing dark magic and necromancy for ages. The dark magic had long since warped his body to match his soul.

But his promise of power, of learning to keep death at bay, and of never aging had been enough to get her to step into the darkness. Of course she learned that her vanity was a limitation. She could never achieve true power if she was so vain to believe that her features should never suffer. Instead she redirected her vanity. She would be beautiful, but when the need arose she could, and would, remove all that made her equine and become something far more vicious and less pleasant to look at.

Much like she was now. Her new body was growing, but it was monstrous. Oh, once she would have pitched a fit, and she would have screamed at herself. Fortunately she destroyed the old her. She left that mare buried in the ages, left alone with the wants and woes of a thousand noble filles, and instead she stepped forward to real power. The Princess’ lover was one that did cause her to be curious. She’d seen some like him before. Creatures that looked like ponies, but were not. She’d even captured a few, long before she settled to the isles, and she’d brought them here with her.

They were trapped in a nightmare, unable to escape, and their bodies sang with magic. They were efficient spell casters, at least with defensive magic, but it had been a trick that Grogar had taught her that brought them down. All magic, regardless of its source, is connected. There can be no harmony magic without chaos or dark magic, and just the same with dark magic. It cannot exist without harmony or chaos. Their magic was a blend of chaos, harmony, dark, and just a twist of elemental. Elemental was the purest magic of all, something that she nearly had a mastery over. She was going to control the element of death itself.

All death, of every living thing, would be at her control. It was one of the strongest elements of all. Each of them had control of a lesser element. Two of them were connected with fire, and the other connected with cold. She redirected their magic when they attempted to defend themselves, and she made their defences into a trap. She moved toward one, a female, and there was times she considered taking her form.

She was lovely, in a mud pony kind of way. She had sizable breasts, decent hips, a waist that was not wasp thin, but was not too thick. Her black mane was dark chocolate colored, her eyes were hazel, and her skin was the softest color of toffee. She’d made the most delightful sounds when she trapped her, her screams were musical, and her whimpers were a sweet melody. But unfortunately she was built like a mud pony, and that would not do. She had been an Unicorn, a proud one, and she would be one again. To accept anything less would be insulting. Perhaps some of her vanity had remained, not that it mattered. She was a mare that had long since learned what she wanted.

Accepting anything else would be an insult. She could feel her tongue fully formed, and she let out loose the first woeful moan in ages. She moved toward the three that looked similar to the chosen lover of the Princess. Two females, a single male, and of course she had tasted the forbidden fruit. After all, she was dealing with the powers of the dead. She committed so many atrocities over the years that the idea of forcing herself upon an exotic stallion was a mere drop in the bucket.

She’d been beautiful when she had. He’d been scared, awaken from his nightmare, begging to be let go, to let his friends go, and she played along. Promising that she would let them be, allow him to leave, allow them to awaken and leave, but he merely needed to scratch her itch. He was against it, claiming that he was promised to another. It was charming, but futile. She attempted to convince him, and finally when she grew bored of that she broke his mind.

It was difficult. He was incredibly strong willed, but his mind wasn’t prepared for a mare to magically produce a phallus, and rut him as she was sure he would have done to his filly. His mind grew weak then, and then she merely finished breaking it. Reducing him to a gibbering mess, destroying his individuality, taking what she knew of changelings and she used one of their tactics and developed her first crude steps into creating drones. She was able to use his body as a puppet, and she had him rut her hard, for hours.

Oh, she grew bored of him eventually, and she locked him away. She was sure that his personality was locked inside of itself, a frightened colt that was hugging himself, begging for mercy, begging for the hurt to stop, but it never would. She locked his mind in an unending nightmare of what she had done to him. Allowing him to remain broken, allowing his entire existence to be that of pain, humiliation, and eternal despair. Of course over time she captured changelings. She took them, figured out how to feed off of emotions, and learned that fear, despair, and depression worked far better in fueling dark magic.

The Princess’ lover would be one that she would also taste. Naturally because she enjoyed sex, but also to break this princess. With changeling magic she was sure she could look like his beloved princess. The question was would she want to? Would she want to play with them, as a cat did with its prey, or would she want to simply charge in and take what was obviously hers. Because he was hers. He was living, and that meant that eventually he would be dead. That meant he would be in her power eventually, so why not take what was her due now?

He would be a useful distraction, and she would enjoy every moment, every taste, every feel, and she would use that to destroy that new princess. Bury her perfect, perky body, take it for her own, make herself a princess, no she would be a queen! A queen of the dead, a queen of the living, and all would bow before her power. All would fear and respect her. All would know that she was the true master of her element.

She would enjoy her new form, and she would rule over all with abandon. After all, what did it matter if they all died? They would still be hers to command. Death was just more power. And that was what she wanted. The entire world would be dead. Everything would be dead. And she would stand on top of a mountain of corpses commanding them, ordering them, and taking the power from them for herself.

Yes, she would take what was hers. She would claim it because it belonged to her. She would take it because she had the right. She would unrepentantly claim the power she so desired because it was her true birthright. She was meant for this. Honeydrop was meant for more than to be a noble. She was meant for more than a life of perceived power. She had power now. She had true power, and she longed to gain more.

It would be hours until she was at some semblance of what she had been, but it was time that she would spend preparing. There was a clear plan for her to follow, and it would begin with taking the new princess’ body as her own. She had long since learned that there was no good, no bad, but instead there was only desire and those with the will to fulfill it.

Isle of Goats - Castle - Throne room - later that morning

Twilight sat on the throne that had been formed, and made, overnight. The stone masons had worked all night in order to move the large boulder of limestone, cut and form it, and then make it into a throne of what they felt worthy of the princess. Beside her Pinkie and Endymion also had thrones made. Endymion’s had been crafted by the castle’s black smith. It was made of iron, gold, and silver, forming a throne that was her throne’s equal. Pinkie’s throne was humbler, but only because it had been carpenters that formed it.

Like their own thrones it had intricate designs around the edges, the back was formed to look like three balloons, and the cushions on it had been made in the same color of pink as her mane and tail. Like Twilight she seemed uneasy about sitting before the ponies coming into the throne room. There was talk of celebration over the fact that so many of the wolves had been killed. The attacks had stopped, but Endymion understood the reason why. He realized that like Jolie his eyes had been opened due to the pain he suffered.

Pain had become a teacher, and it also did something else to him. It cleared his mind. Oddly enough he was thinking clearer, more reasonable, and more direct than he ever had before. That wasn’t to say that there weren’t distractions. Pinkie and Twilight were both worthy distractions in their own right. He considered what was to happen when Barrel Crusher came into the throne room as well. His own throne was one left over from the previous Laird. The chair had been made of marble, expertly crafted, and the back of it had been snapped in half.

The previous Laird had been dethroned, dragged out, and hung because of what he had done. He’d been a power hungry deposit that wanted nothing more than for ponies to bow to him, offer their daughters, give up most of their food, and then pay taxes on top of that. Barrel Crusher had led the attack himself, and in doing so ended what was the beginning of a terrible dictatorship. Barrel Crusher looked at the two mares and Endymion. He grinned and cleared his throat.

“Yer highnesses,” he said, “It pleases me ta be the one ta say that if ya wish fer it, we would be willing to have yer wedding ceremony, today, in the courtyard.”

Twilight’s eyes widened, “Today?” she asked, “This soon?”

He nodded, “Aye,” he said, “Thae ponies need something tae celebrate, 'n' whit better than tae see a bridle, 'n' coronation, a' th'gither. It wull raise thair morale, 'n' mair importantly it wull cement yer position o' power, yer highness.”

Twilight nodded, “That makes sense, I suppose, although what about dress?”

There was a squee from behind them, and Rarity came out. She was dressed as fashionably as one could imagine given the circumstances, but more to the point was the dresses she was carrying. Twilight looked at them and realized that her friend had managed to bring clothes that she had been working on. Oddly enough they looked like gowns, and that was when she realized that Rarity had brought wedding gowns. They were obviously designed for her and Pinkie. She could see her own cutie mark in the lace, worked as a repeating symbol. The chest had it again, and she marveled at the beauty of it.

“Rarity?” she asked, “When did you make those?”

She smiled, “Oh, the moment that your engagement was announced I began working on them darling. I finished before we left for this trip, and I thought that it would be fitting to bring them along.”

Twilight and Pinkie both stood, walked toward their friend, and she noticed that it looked like Rarity had recently altered the dress into something backless. She’d made it where it would now fit her winged body. She looked at Rarity, and she wrapped her friend into a hug. It was one that was soon joined by Pinkie Pie. She’d learned that earth pony hugs were some of the strongest in the world. Of course she had some knowledge about that before becoming engaged to both Endymion and Pinkie, but afterward she found that Pinkie Pie didn’t hold back.

There was a holding back, and those hugs had made her bones creak each time she hugged them. Of course since she ascended she found her she actually could match Pinkie’s hugs. It gave her a realization that alicorns, like herself, P… Celestia and Luna were a combination of all three tribes. She wasn’t merely an unicorn with wings. As a pony she understood the instincts that drove everypony, but as an alicorn she felt three distinct different sets of instincts inside of her.

She felt the protective instincts of pegasi, she felt the driving need to connect with the ground of earth ponies, and she felt the need to protect her mind and spirit that she had felt all of her life as a unicorn. Of course it also provided her with a far more powerful libido. Her mother had been right about the fact that she had opened up more since getting with Endymion and Pinkie. She had accepted that ponies, all ponies, were sexual creatures. To deny that was to deny a very real, and very powerful, part of life.

She also knew something else. What she had done to Endymion, and to some degree Pinkie, had bonded them in a way that she was certain no one else would ever touch. There was still Fluttershy to consider, and while she understood her meek friend she also understood Endymion’s reluctance to fully accept her into their herd. There was much about the stare that she didn’t know, but she understood that essentially Fluttershy had enthralled Endymion.

She had suppressed his will, his ability to critically think, and in doing so she did more than violate his body. She had violated his mind, removing the very things that made him who he was. Both she and Pinkie wanted to give her a chance, but ultimately she wouldn’t accept her into their herd if Endymion was against it. She knew that Pinkie felt the same way. Ultimately she felt torn. She wanted to fully forgive Fluttershy, move on, and compartmentalize what had happened.

The problem was that it didn’t happen to her. It wasn’t her that suffered. It wasn’t her that was used like a sexual object. That wasn’t exactly what happened, but she could understand that’s exactly how Endymion saw it. Fluttershy may have had the best of intentions, but her actions drove a wedge that she wasn’t sure anypony would ever fully be able to remove.

Endymion himself watched, stood, and walked. Pain had remained with him, despite the fact that he was healing. In truth he was nearly healed. He believed that Twilight had shared her lifeforce with him. There already was a connection between them, and it was one that had been formed when they were foals. But the moment she shared that with him it had begun healing him, and he felt a deeper connection with her and Pinkie Pie. It was as if the love they shared had bound their very souls together.

In essence he felt that whatever their individual fates had been it changed. They were now and forever bound to the same fate. He knew that what she had done was out of love and desperation. It wasn’t a violation, but instead it was sharing everything. He knew things about her past, things that she’d never shared, but he saw it all clearly. He also knew that she saw everything he experienced, his feelings, his fears, and the same was with Pinkie.

For some odd reason he developed a slight uncertainty toward Pinkie’s sister that he never met. He’d seen her in Pinkie’s memories, and he knew not to touch, jump onto, or even look at something called Holder’s Boulder unless he wanted to face a very mad sister named Limestone. There were sensations, memories, feelings, and emotions that he understood weren’t his own. It wasn’t just the moment that she had connected them that it happened. He still felt the connection, and right now he felt the excitement and wariness that they both felt.

He wrapped Pinkie, and thus Twilight and Rarity by proxy, into a hug. He smiled, looked at Barrel Crusher who had watched the entire ordeal.

“I believe that we can have the ceremony today. I would suggest if you are able to see if Aunt Celestia is willing to help officiate over it. It could give her something to focus on that she is able to assist with,” he said, “I know that she’s with Professor Flintheart, and I know that she’s been helping him, but I know that even with her help it will be a while before he’s healed.”

“Ye'v git a point yer highness, nae tae mention ah wid jalouse that it wid mak' th' doo mair official tae th' ponies 'ere,” he said, “Ah will set everything intae motion, 'n' ah will let Princess Celestia ken. If she wants tae hulp wi' marrying th' three o' ye, then that wull be a blessing.”

Endymion nodded, and he stayed in the moment he had with his wives. He felt the hug end, and then Rarity, who was smiling one of the brightest smiles he’d ever seen, seemed to practically glow. She handed the dresses over to both Pinkie and Twilight. He watched as they held them, and he knew that they would be going with her, changing into something more fitting, and that left him to remain. It wasn’t that there was much to oversee. Even though he was part of the royals of the Shetland Isles Barrel Crusher was named the first official noble. After him was a few of his trusted advisors that were also named as nobles as well. Twilight explained that she would hold court, but she hoped that he and his advisors would be willing to help oversee more minor issues. They had accepted happily, and he assumed that was because they had likely believed that they would be cut completely from power.

Their court was held for more serious issues between the ponies of the Shetland Isles. One thing that Endymion felt they needed to do was keep some of the more antiquated rulings. Not because he wanted to torture or hurt ponies, but because he didn’t want ponies to hurt one another. He took his seat, prepared to hear the next pony that would come to their court. Even though they handled the more serious issues Twilight did offer to allow any pony to address their court if they felt that it was necessary in order for whatever it was that happened to be settled.

He was prepared to answer, to judge, and a moment later there was a lone pony that walked into the court. She was near his own age. She stood nearly as tall as his mother, which led him to believe that there was Saddle Arabian in her lineage. She neared him, bowed, and then stood taller. Her smile was infectious, and she looked genuinely happy to see him.

“Mah prince, a've come tae ask a request o' th' hert. Ah ask that ye please listen tae me, listen tae mah desires, 'n' then decide,” she said, “They ca' me Bagatelle Addolorato, 'n' ah hae come tae ask allowed tae court th' ryle herd.”

He looked at her for a moment, “Ummm, that’s not a decision that I can make on my own.”

Unlike most of the Shetland ponies she didn’t look as if she was merely built for work or birthing foals. She was beautiful, her mane was a two toned ocean and royal blue, her coat was a robin’s egg shell blue, and her eyes were a violet color, but he noticed right away that her eyes were blind. She touched a ruby pendant she wore, and he felt the thrum of magic. She opened her mouth, a soft melody escaped it. Her singing was, simply put, the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. There was no way for him to know that he was seeing a creature that was honestly as old as his mother.

That she was a siren, but unlike her sisters she hadn’t been cast from this world by Starswirl the bearded. She hadn’t been cast out because she wasn’t like them. She had no desire to breed conflict in order to feed. If Twilight hadn’t connected him, Pinkie Pie, and herself together he could have very easily fallen under her spell. Instead he felt the strength of his two brides inside of himself. He looked at her and touched her lips with a single finger. She looked at him, confused, but intrigued at the same time.

“Bagatelle Addolorato,” he said softly, “You have a lovely singing voice, but I am afraid that I am not able to add another potential member to our herd without consulting my brides.”

She seemed uncertain of what had happened, but then there was a bright smile. It was one that looked like somepony had finally found whatever it was that they were looking for. Before he could say a word she kissed him. It wasn’t demanding, or demeaning, but instead it was a kiss of promise. She pulled back, the smile never leaving her face.

“Ah wull tak' yer word mah prince, 'n' ah hawp that yer brides wull gree tae me dating yer herd,” she said, “Fur ah hawp ah hae fun whit ah wis keekin fur.”

Looking at her he noticed a few things. One, she was built fairly lithe for what appeared to be an earth pony. Oddly enough he didn’t feel any earth pony magic from her. That was one thing that he’d been learning to feel for with Pinkie Pie. There was a magic all of its own that was connected to earth ponies. It was what bound them to the ground, and it was what gave them their incredible strength. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel that from her. Her magic felt organic, like it was part of her, but it didn’t bind her to the ground. It didn’t feel like a pegasus’ magic either.

There was something similar to that of a unicorn’s magic, but then that wasn’t right. A unicorn drew magic in from the world around them. They had magic inside of themselves, organic magic, but they could draw in more from their surroundings which allowed them to change the world. Her magic felt similar, but different. There was no evidence of a horn, and no evidence that there had ever been one. She was different, an enigma for certain, and one that he wanted to figure out.

Whatever she’d tried she wasn’t upset that it didn’t work. Instead it seemed that she was actually quite pleased that he hadn’t fallen under her spell. She didn’t contrite for having attempted either. She had attempted to do what Fluttershy had done, but she wasn’t acting like Fluttershy did. In fact she didn’t even attempt, he assumed, to use her magic to do more than ask for permission to date him and his brides.

He felt his brides inside of himself, and a few moments later he saw a rainbow maned pegasus walking into the room. She let out a yawn, looked at the pony standing there with him, and then shook her head.

“Okay, the fact that Twilight has started to know stuff that she can’t see like Pinkie does is all kinds of wrong,” Rainbow Dash said, “But it doesn’t matter.”

She walked toward the pony, “So, you’re Bagatelle Addolorato, right?””

Bagatelle nodded, “A'm, bit wha in Tartarus urr ye tae ask me?” she asked, “Ah wis haen clishmaclaiver wi th' prince, 'n' if his brides cam in then tae thaim, bit nae tae ye.”

Rainbow growled, “Listen you pillow biting, loose tailhole having, stallion cum dumpster, bitch. I’m Rainbow Dash, the fastest pegasus in the world, and somepony that has no problem laying you flat.”

“Och, yer aff tae ca' me names huh? weel listen ye fud licking, boaby sniffing, spunk swallowing, twat puncher, ah dinnae gie a flying bugger wha ye claim yer.”

Endymion tried to step in before Rainbow did something she would regret. He managed to stop her from slapping the living Tartarus out of Bagatelle, and he made her look at her eyes. Rainbow’s own eyes softened a little.

“Fine, whatever,” she said, “Look, Twilight and Pinkie wants her to come back with me. I’m guessing there’s something she needs to talk to them about.”

Bagatelle grinned, “Guid, ah will follow th' sound o` yer voice. Anythin' that annoying is aff tae be easy as bugger tae follow.”

Rainbow glared at her, silently wishing that she wasn’t blind. Because if she wasn’t she would have rammed her hoof so far up her tailhole that she would be licking her own shit off of it. She turned around and started walking.

“Follow me, and try to keep up.”

Author's Notes:

This story isn't dead, but it's authors may on the verge of being so…