Doug ignores Tempest Shadow’s pointed glare, her scarred eye narrowing. It’s not like she had been hiding, the helm visible from just about any point abovedeck. He tries, unsuccessfully, to keep his gaze from flicking to her broken horn, or the sparks that occasionally fling off, or her deepening scowl. It’s the first time he’s seen a pony crippled, or even permanently scarred - physically, that is, as his foals struggle with using magic. It does make him wonder if she suffers similarly, but from her imperious stature and high ranking in the Storm King’s army it can’t be that much of a detriment.

Laying ponyloaf a pace away are the diarchs of Equestria. Luna rests with lidded eyes, head nestled in the crook of her Sister’s neck, horn almost hidden by alabaster fur. It makes Doug a little jealous, seeing the mare in such a cozy position - one of the more intimate, especially for unicorns (and alicorns), with one exposed to a sharp horn, the other tucking subserviently.

Celestia serenely watches the horizon, her head high, ignoring the dozen black sails in loose formation around them. Only Pinkie Pie comes close to her seeming lack of concern. As Doug comes up the ramp her faint smile brightens to a motherly warmth, despite her first foal still residing in her belly. A single wing raises with a fond invitation to join her side, and quite an inviting side it is.

Yet Doug finds his attention turning back to Tempest Shadow, wondering what might have marred her such that it discolors, but doesn’t remove, the fur in a single vertical line across her right eye, yet the eye itself is undamaged.

“What?” Tempest Shadow demands. Her voice is cold, hard, and thinly veils her contempt.

Doug frowns as he walks up to the helm, refamiliarizing himself with the various dials and instruments. The setup is similar to a modern sailboat with a polished mahogany wheel next to altimeter, altitude, heading, and wind speed, among others. The airspeed jumps out, confirming Rainbow Dash’s assertion, though she had been nice enough not to call it a human’s pace.

“Making sure everything’s where I remember,” Doug says smoothly, running a hand along one of the two short walls that makes up the helm. It conceals the canopy, currently retracted, that protects the pilot from heavy wind or other elements. “It’s only been a few months, but Lunaris might have changed things around.”

The whole ship is built to be modular, and Tempest Shadow grunts as she idly rests a hoof on the throttle, which connects to two large fans on the bottom of the cobalt balloon above. It’s at the second-lowest setting, the engine an almost imperceptible hum.

“Also,” Doug continues, “to see if you, I don’t know, wanted someone else to take over flying.” He offers a half-hearted shrug. “Not sure how much time you spend piloting instead of just ordering ponies around.” He pauses for a moment, the unicorn still not responding. “Do you order ponies around?”

“Yes,” Tempest says curtly.

“Huh.” Doug folds downward until he is at eye level with Tempest Shadow. Her glare doesn’t abate in the slightest. He leans against the railing opposite the Princesses, steadily watching the three ponies. He finds himself fixating on the broken horn.

“Did you have something else?” Tempest Shadow asks after a long, uncomfortable pause. She snorts derisively at his uncomfortable look. “If you’re so interested, you could just ask.”

“Mm,” Doug stalls, watching a spark lazily drift to the deck where it winks out. “How did it happen?”

The harsh glare fades slightly, turning to a stare punctuated by a curious tilt of her head. “You know,” Tempest Shadow draws out as her gaze shifts to the south, “I do believe you are the first creature to actually ask me that.” She isn’t forthcoming with anything else, just steadily watching the horizon.

“I’m guessing you weren’t born with it,” Doug says, apple and sun scratching at his chin.

Tempest Shadow takes a deep breath before giving the barest of nods. “An Ursa Minor, before I had my mark.”

“I imagine it was difficult,” Doug says when the unicorn doesn’t continue. “I know it has been for my foals. Sweetie Belle especially.” He frowns when he can’t recall a single one of the Crusader’s friends who are unicorns. Okay, there’s Snips and Snails, but they hardly count. Oh, and Pumpkin Cake, and Dinky Doo, but they’re a bit young.

“You know nothing of what it was like,” Tempest Shadow states darkly. Doug’s eyebrows narrow, though he says nothing. “They at least had each other growing up.”

“I suppose,” Doug concedes. He leans back slightly, deciding a change of topic is in order. “Twilight was telling me about how the Storm King’s forces are made up of volunteers from each of the Council’s member nations.” He glances back, Canterhorn Mountain a lonely landmark against a backdrop of the snow-capped Frozen North. “You’ve got your ponies, griffons, Abyssinians. Dragons, and others.”

“True,” Tempest Shadow says, sounding bored, probably because he could look up all this information, especially with the Princesses nearby, without bothering her.

Doug taps a finger against his chin thoughtfully. “I imagine it wouldn’t sit right with many of them, ponies especially, if you had actually ‘conquered’ Canterlot and Equestria.”

“Your ignorance of the political situation is appalling,” Tempest Shadow retorts. Off to the side, Celestia’s muzzle curls to a slight frown.

“Oh?” Doug snaps, arms crossing in front of him. He immediately relaxes his aggressive posture, trying to keep a friendly banter to his words. “I thought Equestria was everycreature’s friend.”

“Of course they are,” Tempest Shadow continues with a sneer. “After all, who wouldn’t want to be chummy with a nation whose leader could singlehoofedly roast your entire country to ash?”

Celestia’s teeth clink as they set against each other.

“And yet,” Tempest Shadow continues over Doug’s opening mouth, deliberately not looking at the solar diarch, “you waste this power on parties instead of righting wrongs and making the entire world a better place! And you leave yourself open to betrayers who would twist your nation to their nefarious ends!”

At the word ‘betrayers’ Queen Chrysalis looks up from the deck below. Her glare, twin protruding fangs making it as malevolent as always, don’t so much as twitch at the hidden accusation. She methodically turns her gravid body to face the unicorn, taking extra time so her massive bulk doesn’t wobble. With ponderously slow steps she marches up the ramp.

“Is that what they want?” Doug asks inquisitively, arms crossing. “Those that you would save from themselves?”

“It doesn’t matter what they want,” Tempest Shadow spits out. “The Council allowed the atrocities in Abyssinia for too long. They hoped the insurgents, those that didn’t care for the slavers and those fighting to turn the practice legal, even acceptable, might have prevailed. Had the Council intervened earlier, they might still have a voice instead of being scattered to the winds.” She turns a cold eye at Celestia, finally acknowledging the alicorn. “And you have the power to prevent the coming calamity, if only you had the will to do so.”

“You must be talking about me,” Chrysalis says as she crests the upper deck, her muzzle twisting to a fanged grin. She offers the unicorn a short, sardonic bow. “I’m honored you think so highly of me, that I would be capable of such a deception.”

“You.” A shower of sparks erupts from the broken horn in a dazzling display as Tempest Shadow whirls on the changeling queen. She stamps a hoof, which seems timid only when compared to the burst of energy. “It is despicable what you have done, that you brazenly wear his crown!”

Chrysalis continues her measured pace until she reaches Doug, settling down next to the human with a deep, calming inhale. She raises her head, perhaps subconsciously hiding the blackened metal crown. It used to belong to King Orion, the ruler of an independent pegasus city, until she and her brood drained its inhabitants of their love. The city never recovered. It was a crowning moment for her, until her recent reformation, and one of many atrocities she had confessed without reservation to Celestia and the other Princesses. While knowledge of some of those acts never spread past this inner circle, given they happened decades ago, or even longer, others are public knowledge for those interested in history outside Equestria.

“Just to be sure I hear you correctly,” Chrysalis says. She leans forward the barest amount, her piercing green eyes bright, a perfect picture of one eager to understand. It does little to mollify the fuming unicorn. “If one were to invade Canterlot.” She pauses as if asking for confirmation that never comes. “Take a Princess or two hostage. Steal their power to further their nefarious ends. That this sequence of events is... unforgivable? That one should be banished or...” the friendly facade fades, showing a snide sneer, “dehorned?”

Tempest Shadow flinches before her harsh glare returns. She coldly states, “I am nothing like you, monster. And you deserve far worse for your crimes.”

Chrysalis casually shrugs, her head again shifting toward Doug and inhaling deeply. “I have been called worse, and suffered worse, than anything you might think to inflict.”

With a wild shower of blood-red sparks and a matching snarl Tempest Shadow leaps over the helm! Her glare, capable of setting the deck ablaze, fights her malicious grin over which will rend the changeling’s words and feed them back to her like the other half of the cow she’s already indulged in.

Doug instinctively tries to scramble backward, but his attempt to flip over the railing to relative safety is stifled by a matte-black hoof possessively holding him in place. Chrysalis tugs him closer than Twilight with a cherished doll or Celestia with a coveted cake, yet her contemptuous smile conceals her worry.

“Hiding behind a stallion?” Tempest Shadow taunts. “I knew you were unscrupulous, but this?”

“He is nothing to me,” Chrysalis spits out defensively as she continues to pin Doug against her chitinous side.

“Hey!” Doug shouts, futilely trying to pry the armored leg away from his chest. It squeezes, hard, easily felt even through his chestpiece.

“Perhaps?” Celestia’s regal tone easily carries, bringing the two equines to a grudging halt, Chrysalis especially. “We might consider the consequences of our actions?” She flashes each an exacting smile which neither returns. “I would hate for this to escalate before we reached Klugetown, much less still in sight of Canterlot.”

Tempest Shadow’s scowl turns to Celestia. “Is that a threat?”

“Of course not,” Celestia smoothly replies, her motherly warmth a silk cover over steel. “I, or one of my compatriots, would have gladly dove over the edge to save you. And you will have your chance to raise any concerns once we arrive.”

Tempest Shadow holds the larger pony’s gaze for a long second. One of the smaller ships sailing to their east, a cutter with Lightning Crash scrawled on the side in teal and metallic gray, breaks formation and heads directly toward them. The multitude of mares on the Lunaris Priestess cluster along the lower railing, some eager and some apprehensive at the warship’s rapid arrival. Heads turn up, watching curiously as the Commander leaps from one ship to the other. They frown, exchanging querying glances to each other and the alicorns. Seeing nothing, they go back to their game.

“So, Chrysalis,” Doug says, finally able to wrestle the leg to a more comfortable position.

“Oh?” The changeling pulls back just slightly as she cuts him off, her demand begging to drip acid. “Am I no longer a Queen? Now that I am married to a Prince?”

“King Shining Armor.” Doug tries out the moniker, finding it unsettling. The former queen mirrors his frown, if only because the expression never left her maw. He disentangles himself, taking the helm. “Too soon?”

“...It carries too much,” Chrysalis says with a distasteful glance at the two alicorns. “I can sense their disgust with the title, from previous rulers.” She sniffs as she follows Doug to the helm, again laying next to him, withers barely touching his leg. “Though it may also have to do with… advances those rulers might have made.”

“Indeed,” Celestia says, settling back down.

“Oh?” Chrysalis says with a coy grin. “That they continue to make? My, my, my.”

Celestia offers Doug a reassuring smile when he looks over, slightly worried. “It would be extraordinarily unlikely for me to return his affections, or those of the other suitors I have briefly entertained in the past few centuries.” She relaxes when Doug seems to accept this. “Forgive the pun, but many of them have been solely interested in whatever power or influence they might glean from such an arrangement.”

Luna huffs from underneath the alabaster neck, violet-shod forelegs crossing under muzzle as she stares at a particularly uninteresting section of the deck. Above her Celestia frowns at the motion but says nothing.

“Good thing I’m nothing like that,” Doug says with a wink, then rests a hand on Chrysalis’ thick mane. He grips hard, jostling back and forth, and it seems like she enjoys it. “And, speaking of nothing…”

“Yes?” Chrysalis asks, somehow managing a friendly smile, tilting so green eyes gaze happily into blue.

“I’m nothing to you?” Doug asks pointedly.

Next Chapter: Ch. 4 - Fortified Legion, Part Four Estimated time remaining: 31 Hours, 38 Minutes