A hardened look crosses Twilight’s face as she warily regards the Storm King.

The wiry leader of the Storm Realm looks back with bemusement, his low cackle of ‘jajajajaja’s more a whisper than an attempt to gloat. It infuriates her nonetheless, that he can laugh after what he did to her brother. Yet rather than the relaxed posture a confident victor might take, he stands coiled like a spring; his free three fingered hand twiddles minutely, creeping toward the long staff loosely strapped to his back, waiting for her to make a move.

She has no idea what would happen to her foals should she be petrified, and has absolutely no intention of finding out. She considers her options, specifically going on the aggressive - a teleport to a random spot in the open ceiling, simultaneously disabling a section of the Storm King’s spine - but such an action would put her at a momentary disadvantage as she reorients herself, leaving her vulnerable to whatever traps have been set against fliers. The obsidian orbs pierce shields, she saw a flicker of an instinctive one from Shining Armor before he was hit, and she doubts that is the only trick in the hedgehog’s arsenal that deals with unicorns. Or alicorns for that matter: he was prepared to invade Equestria, after all.

Her defensive options seem slim as well. She hasn’t scanned to see where might be a safe location to teleport, and the Storm King guards the entrance she just came through. He likely has some sort of true sight, a method of detecting invisibility and seeing through smokescreens, and the slender staff on his back shimmers like a mirror. She feels like one of the Crystal Ponies presented with a dilemma King Sombra might propose. If she resists, she might win. Or she can give in.

And subject herself to the whims of a capricious monster.

And that is something she cannot do. The safety of her foals is too important. And whatever interest he showed in Celestia and Equestria must be a ruse.

Her horn flares raspberry as his left hand slips behind his back. She teleports as he whips the silvered staff out, reflecting her spine-numbing spell not back at her but to her destination. It shatters into the ceiling a leg’s length to her left, her shield able to intercept the pieces of crystal that rain down around her.

Her shield would not have gotten up in time to block her own spell from disabling herself. She grits her teeth, unsure if he meant to miss her or not. She does not like the idea that she is being toyed with, but neither does the idea that he almost got lucky sit well with her.

“Suavemente, Princesa,” the Storm King calls from below as he slips into a hypnotic dance, the staff never ceasing its spin, his chest puffed out as he sensuously sways from side to side; she can almost hear the music, a lively trumpet-filled tune, and the land he stole it from. “Quiero sentir tus labios besándome suavemente!”

“You will never kiss me,” Twilight retorts, trying to ignore the ruthless reference to the places he has taken. “Nor anycreature else if I have anything to say about it!”

One of the few places run by stallions, Mexicolt - located in the desert between Klugetown and the Realm of Clouds - would have been reduced to a bump in the road when the Storm King’s forces rolled through had they not given in. She’s read speculation that their swift surrender was partially due to the Storm King also being male, but the earth-bound population stood little chance against the aerial invaders even if they put up a hearty resistance. When the Storm King joined the Council of Creatures they pledged as a vassal state, theoretically independent but kowtowing to his demands, as many Storm Creatures had settled in the more hospitable lands (more hospitable than the Storm Realm, that is) while a good number of ponies (voluntarily, they claim) moved to the stormy island to work in the nullstone mines and massive shipyards; this led to increased tensions between them and the neighboring Realm of Clouds, who saw their air dominance in the area challenged when the Storm King installed military bases. She doubts any interest in Mexicolt culture is genuine, a way to get to know ponies better, even as Celestia has promised not to prevent her foal from dating him.

She wants to beat him, badly, and at his own game. She releases a forcebolt right at his chest, nonlethal but strong enough to knock him off his feet. It travels slowly, just begging to be knocked away.

As expected he bats it back; it returns a touch faster, but she’s ready this time. She rebounds the spell, as does he, volleying back and forth and faster and faster and faster until her reflector is on the verge of breaking. Despite the deadly dance his grin only grows greater, matched by hers, until he notices the roundabolt sneaking in from behind.

With a yelp he pirouettes, simultaneously smashing both spells with opposite ends of his staff and sending them careening into the nullstone walls, where they fizzle harmlessly.

“Ready for another?” Twilight notes his hard gasps as he returns to his lithe dance, but she’s only getting started. She conjures another bolt, waiting to release it, and then two more. “How ‘bout three?”

“Sí, pero hay algo que debes saber.” The Storm King holds up the obsidian orb in his right hand, having held onto it the entire time. He has a knowing, confident smile she finds utterly disconcerting. “No soy zurdo.”

Twilight grimaces, realizing how much her focus had been on landing the two spells and how little attention she was paying to anything else. Juggling more of her own spells wouldn’t be an issue, but intercepting a curveball that can be thrown at any time? She would-

“Down, dog.”

Twilight frowns at the high-pitched voice interrupting their duel.

So does the Storm King, the spin of his staff slowing as he addresses the figure flying out from behind the throne. “It’s pronounced hog, you impertinent whelp.”

“That’s Emperor Whelp to you,” the purple dragon commands, staring down the Storm King with a look as hard as the crystal surrounding them. “And after what you did to my brother?”

Spike!? Twilight barely recognizes the dragon that emerges. The resemblance is obvious, of course, once she makes the connection. The coloration of his scales and frills are the same, and his head is still round instead of isosceles. But he has grown, at least one hoof if not several, and not the lanky way of his greed growth that emphasized stretching, grasping arms and loping legs. Neither does it resemble his early surge when she got her cutie mark that merely increased him proportionally. Instead his torso has widened, his shoulders becoming as broad as Big Mac’s, and there is the start of a pronounced chin that will someday remove the foalish look of his face. His legs are still a bit scrawny, probably from all the flying by enlarged wings, while clearly defined muscles bulge along his crossed arms. But those physical changes are nothing compared to the commanding gaze in his eyes.

“I did what you asked me to do, and stopped him by any means necessary,” the Storm King claims, redirecting Twilight’s ire as cleanly as he did her spells. Spike put him up to that?! “It’s not like he’s permanently injured.” He shrugs as he relaxes, a carefree smile replacing his tensed posture. “Besides, we’re even now. One to one. And as long as you’re not going for the helm? We’re cool.” He winks at Twilight and holds up a clenched fist for her to bump; she returns a glare nothing short of furious.

The main doors to the throne room boom as they open. “If that’s the case,” Princess Cadance states, as close to yelling as Twilight has ever seen her (and she was captured by Chrysalis!), “then restore him. Now.”

With a sweeping bow that ends with one foot off the ground, the Storm King removes his right greave and a six-gemmed bracelet from just under his knee. Twilight groans to herself, but she should have expected that one of the most powerful creatures would have some sort of protection against impediments. With a bit of a squint and twist of his hand he tosses the bracelet from across the room and lands a ringer on Shining Armor’s horn, smirking as he walks forward to retrieve the spent orb, his whole body sensually swaying as though he is continuing their ‘dance’.

All six of the gems instantly go from bright to a dull black, but so too fades the stone surrounding her brother’s body. While Shining Armor recovers Emperor Spike picks up the Helm of the Sibling Supreme. Two crystal guards wheel in a thick-barred cage about the right size to hold an alicorn. Spike tosses the helm underneath the solid bottom; Twilight thinks they are going to crush it flat, raising a hoof as if that might stop them, but the silver status symbol phases straight through. She bets it would be protected from magic inside there, and wonders what defenses would keep a medium sized stick from poking the helm out.

“It’ll be a week before that’ll work again,” the Storm King states as he grabs Shining Armor by a foreleg. With a loud grunt he hauls him to his hooves, clasps the bracelet to his own knee, then forcibly leads the recovering unicorn towards Twilight and the balcony. “Try not to do anything foalish, okay? Okay.” He gives him a light punch on the withers, then a quick salute to Celestia and Luna, who are still outside on the balcony and watching carefully. Celestia returns a polite wave while Luna stands impassively.

“You’re well?” Twilight asks as she lands, trying to be sensitive while reserving an acidic glare for the Storm King.

“Only thing injured is my pride,” Shining Armor admits as he coughs out a bit of dust. “Too bad you missed your chance to go for the crown, what with me having exposed all the traps.”

“Not all the traps,” Cadance corrects as she approaches Twilight, a grin plastered on her muzzle and all animosity gone. “Sunshine, Sunshine, Ladybugs awake! Clap your hooves and do a little shake!”

“That never gets old,” Twilight gleefully claims as she bumps rumps with her former foalsitter. She turns to Celestia and Luna. “Are you two coming in?”

“My apologies,” Celestia says, not moving. “I have a policy of not treading hoof where horn cannot teleport out.”

Luna snorts, sticking her tongue out at her Sister, and trots inside.

“You’ll be safe,” Spike claims as he flies over and hovers next to Twilight. “You have my word on that.”

Celestia looks to the left, then the right. She closes her eyes, her horn briefly flaring, and walks inside. “Raikou.”

“Princesa.” The Storm King steps close and they exchange brief, chaste kisses on each cheek. Twilight can feel her face flush.

Celestia takes the more intimate greeting in stride, happy that she doesn’t have to stoop down. “¿Besas suavemente ahora?”

Raikou laughs, no trace of smugness at contravening Twilight’s earlier vow. “A las ponis no les gusta áspera.”

Twilight tries to ignore their chatter. “Hey, Spike. Or should I say Emperor?” Twilight giggles as the cold look melts off Spike’s face. “I never know what the appropriate greeting is, especially now that I’ve got wings.”

“You can call me anything you want, Twi,” Spike returns. A smirk crosses his face. “As long as you don’t try to kiss me.”

“With how you’re looking?” Twilight whistles appreciably as her little brother puffs his chest. “Mares must be falling all over you.”

The jovial smile fades. “Yeah,” Spike says sullenly. “Something like that.”

Twilight frowns, not meaning to remind him of Sweetie Belle, or anypony else if that was the case. She decides to change the topic. “What was that you were saying about traps?”

“We disabled a good number of them with all four of you coming,” Spike admits, looking a little ashamed at the necessity.

“You were worried about our safety?” Twilight doesn’t know how to take that. On one hoof she’s glad to not be subjected to something that might potentially injure her. On the other hoof, the whole point of her coming was to test the efficacy of their defenses, especially the magical ones.

Cadance offers a half smile, stepping in to explain. “No, we-” she indicates Spike and herself “-were more worried about the cost. They’re expensive to replace after being discharged, and with the crystal ponies lacking the native caster talent of Equestria we would rely almost exclusively on hired talent. Not exactly the best idea where security is concerned.”

“Of course,” Twilight concurs, having done a lot of the trapping of her castle and school herself.

“But more importantly, the vast majority of the traps would have done little to nothing against a hermetic shield, especially one of your caliber.” Cadance winks. “Impressive work against Raikou, by the way; you almost got him.”

“Almost,” Raikou interjects, “only counts in horsey-shoes and grenades.” He tosses the spent obsidian orb to himself before slipping it next to five neighbors on his belt; he and Celestia had been discussing their construction and rechargeability. He smirks at Twilight’s glower, though Celestia doesn’t seem impressed by his bluster.

“We could use a hoof constructing and testing the defenses,” Spike continues unabashedly. “No offense to Cadance, but the team I assembled is a bit lacking in thaumic capacity.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Twilight says, her gaze flipping between the Storm King and Spike. “You assembled a team?”

“Spike’s Seven.” The dragon grins a very dragony grin, all fangs and grasping claws, as Shining Armor and Twilight gape at him. “What, you think you’re the only ponies who know the other that well?”

“Well, no,” Twilight stammers, quite put out.

“So.” Spike strides to the balcony, looking down over the Crystal Empire. “How do you think your Friends are faring against them?”

Next Chapter: Ch. 147 - Brittle Barrier, Part One Estimated time remaining: 8 Hours, 44 Minutes