“Show them?” Doug isn’t sure whether he should be offended at the implication that he doesn’t show his mares how he feels about them or glad for some insight into how the Storm King would act. With how Luna sees him? Perhaps he could use the tip, if only to try something that might succeed.

Raikou dangles Doug’s gloves in front of him, the ones embroidered with the nine cutie marks of the mares in the herd. Dirt and sweat stains the fingers, the edges a bit ragged if only because they were meant as more of a decorative piece and not work gloves.

“Hey!” Doug exclaims. It’s obvious he wants to walk over and snatch them away, but he’ll look the fool if the much taller Storm King just raises them into the air. “Careful with those!”

“Worried they might get lost overboard?” Raikou grins as he mimes doing just that.

“Not with me around,” Rainbow Dash retorts, flicking her wings out emphatically. She growls, low and menacing, her eyes narrowing as Raikou laughs.

“How are you so wound up?” The Storm King leers at Rainbow Dash. “Do your mares not give you enough attention?”

“Not with me around,” Rainbow Dash repeats defensively, drawing close to her stallion. She abhors the thought that that might be the case, or why he ended up yielding himself to Chrysalis. She glares at the Storm King, who returns one just as venomous.

“What was your idea?” Doug states, trying to diffuse the animosity between the two.

The Storm King pauses, his head turning to Doug slowly enough to be creepy. “These are mares who bore your foals.” He motions at Rainbow Dash and the complete lack of space between her and Doug. “They obviously care for you. And you for them. But can others see that?” He stands tall, pointing to the waving flags bearing the Storm King’s insignia. Then at the guards, each proudly displaying the same. “It’s all about branding, you know?”

“Branding?” Doug scowls. “I’m not going to mark up my mares on a whim.”

“You never thought about it?” Raikou says, almost as a cheerful joke. Yet there is intensity behind his words, a sense of condemnation, a chill in his narrowing eyes.

“Briefly.” Doug grips his upper arm, just below the shoulder. He shudders, his knuckles going white as he grimaces. “I had a… dream, of sorts. Where each mare was bound to me, coerced by ultimatum and not by choice. That binding was symbolized by a band around my arm and their foreleg, and a collar around their filly’s neck. That put me off the idea entirely, not that I strongly felt like doing it anyway.”

“So this is a one-way street,” Raikou coldly states. He mimics how Doug crosses his arms, a thumb jabbing into his chest. “Where we conform exactly to your standards and you embrace none of ours.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Doug says, any traces of anger evaporating in an instant.

“Then enlighten the big dumb hog over here!” Raikou roars as he spreads his arms wide, as if inviting an attack. “What did you want from me? You want me to make our cannons party sized, put streamers on our spears and make our armor into costumes?”

Doug sighs, shaking his head. “We’re not asking for any of that, not directly.”

“Then what do you want?” Raikou flips his hand at the embassy below them. “Or do I never have a shot with that filly of yours?”

“Well, that’s part of the problem.” Doug joins him in looking down at the building, Rainbow Dash still at his side and wary about falling off. “If I tell you what we want, you can do that, but it doesn’t exemplify the shift in thinking that we’re looking for. It could just be a single item, like copying on a test. We want something that comes from you.”

The Storm King’s eyes narrow. “Like what?”

“For instance?” Doug’s mouth purses as he thinks. “Let’s take one of your shows of strength. Picking up and disciplining Tempest Shadow. Or teaching her, however you see it. Did you think that was something you had to do, that made you look strong?”

“Yeah,” Raikou snaps back.

“That’s not how the ponies saw it.” Doug takes a deep breath. “They saw a bully terrorizing a weak opponent, not that I think Tempest is weak. They had to remind themselves that you don’t think the same way they do. That this is how you show others that you care about them, by taking the time and teaching them a valuable lesson, so that they too can become strong like you. But that initial reaction? That fear, that vitriol stuck with them, far more than the explanation they came up with after the fact.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Raikou says. To Doug’s surprise he has a small pad of paper out, jotting down notes. “How would I do that?”

Doug can’t help but smile at that. “So, you have to put yourself in their shoes.” He glances down at his bare feet, then at Rainbow Dash’s and the Storm King’s horseshoe’d hooves. Close enough. “Think about where they are coming from. A good starting point would be the parts of their core philosophy that are non-negotiable. Take the Tenets of Harmony, for six. Now, their application in every situation might be subject to some debate. In fact, you could study those topics all your life and still not know every answer; Princess Celestia has said as much about herself learning about Friendship. But the broad implications are clear. Don’t lie, don’t steal, don’t cheat, don’t hurt, don’t insult, don’t alienate.”

Raikou mutters to himself, “So, some sort of gesture the ponies would appreciate. Hmm.”

“And remember,” Doug cautions. “You can’t treat them like some sort of investment, where you expect some return for what you put in. ‘I do something for you, and you do something for me.’ I know that’s how you perceive a lot of interactions, it’s understandable. But you can’t look at this like that, worrying about who gets more or who will be better off by the relationship. It’s symbiotic. We both gain, but again, that’s not the point. The point is to deepen your relationship with the other person, to understand them, to be friends with them.”

The Storm King stares at the list, his eyes gradually narrowing as his hand plays at his chin. The pensive look is disconcerting on a creature you’d expect to see recklessly rampaging around.

After a long while he glances at Doug. “And how does getting a tattoo violate these?”

“Um,” Doug stalls. “I, well, if it’s voluntary?” He sighs as he glances down, inspecting himself for any marks he might use. “It might not. But, what would I even put on them, anyway?”

“For us? You put on something you’re committed to. Something you’re loyal to, something you’re not going to give up. But they’ve gone through enough on your behalf.” Raikou winks at Rainbow Dash. She merely flicks her mane, though joins Doug in inspecting his sides curiously. He tucks away the paper as he stands. “Dash, gonna borrow you for this.”

“Um, what?” the pegasus retorts as Raikou wraps his arm around her barrel and hoists her up. “The hay!”

“Uh-” Doug gets out before a wing slaps him in the face. He sputters, trying to push away the flailing limbs, and it’s only when the pegasus is halfway across his chest, her flank pressing into his shoulder, that she lets up. “What are you doing?”

“Wouldn’t that look great?” Raikou grins, mashing Dash’s cutie mark into Doug and holding her in place. He pulls back slowly, letting Doug take the weight; once he does, Rainbow Dash glances back, her venom replaced by curiosity. The Storm King frames a picture of the two. “Lightning bolt, right there? Perfect.”

“My cutie mark?” Rainbow Dash asks, frowning. “We put that on saddlebags, not stallions.”

“I-it’s not really something I’ve considered,” Doug stammers. He grunts as he lets go of Rainbow Dash with one hand, struggling to carry her with one arm, and rubs at the spot. “I’d need a lot more tonic.” He yelps as Raikou tosses him another flask, barely able to catch it in time.

“Me, too,” Rainbow Dash says, a bit more prepared for the flask coming her way. She inspects the bottle, shrugs as Doug pops open his, and guzzles it with him. She eyes the empty flask. “Hey; this stuff is pretty good, once you get past the beets.”

“I know, right?” Raikou says with a wide smile, taking the empty flasks. “And whatever mark Noon gets?” He flexes his arm as he bares his shoulder, a hand running through the fur to expose his Storm Guard tattoo. “Whoops, that side’s taken.” He turns to his other side. “I’d put it right there.” He frowns at their lack of reaction, how they mostly stare at each other. “What, you don’t like it?”

“Ugh,” Doug says, wiping any remains of the tonic off his mouth. He looks again at his shoulder. “You really think it would look good?”

“Oh, what, you don’t like my mark now?” Rainbow Dash smirks as she wriggles in his arms. “I thought you couldn’t get enough of me.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Doug says, rubbing at her mane as he sets her down. “I’m just thinking about where the rest of them will go.”

“The rest?” Rainbow’s eyes go wide. “You’d get nine marks?”

The shuttle comes to a stop aside the pink-stained warship, quickly enough to nearly get Doug to stumble. Rainbow Dash takes to the air as one of the half-dozen teal-clad guards drops a gangplank and holds it in place. Four stand watch over their quadrant of the sky, the last leaning off the side and looking down.

“Grubber!” the Storm King bellows as he dances down the gangplank, seemingly unconcerned about the thousand-foot drop.

Doug stands and steps to the edge of the shuttle. And glances down. The city looms below, tiny buildings built into a sandcastle while ants scurry about. He gulps, his knees going weak, unable to move a leg onto the possibly-unsteady piece of wood a creature eight times his mass just traversed.

“Hey,” Dash reassures with a calming nuzzle to Doug’s shoulder. Magenta eyes beam his way, a hoof stretching out to give him something to hold on to. “You got this.”

“We got this,” Doug says, gripping the hoof tight. The board doesn’t shift as he steps on, a dozen steps taking him to the other side. He lets out a huge breath, squeezing appreciably. “Together.”

“Hey, guyth,” a rotund hedgehog greets amiably. Grubber barely comes up to Rainbow Dash’s withers, his armor more of a loose-fitting tunic that leaves his arms, legs, and tail exposed. A white-tipped gray mane goes from his tail to between his notched ears, looking particularly spiky. He munches on a piece of pink cake, taking large bites that he nonetheless savors immensely. He asks eagerly, “Did ya bring more cake?”

“Go get your inks,” Raikou commands. He glances at Rainbow Dash and Doug. “Please.”

“Uh,” Grubber says, frowning at that last word. He scratches at his head while finishing off the cake. “Kinda hard to work without cake.”

Raikou hides his scowl as he walks over to the side of the warship, scoops up a ball of frosting, and dumps it on Grubber’s plate.

Grubber stares at the frosting, hunching down slightly, before curiously glancing up at the vicious smile of the Storm King. “It’th, uh…” He motions somewhere behind him. “I’ve got ‘em over here.” He waddles off, Doug getting his gloves back before he and Rainbow Dash follow, easily able to keep up as they head belowdecks.

The warship is massive, with six decks arranged around a reactor room that stretches from the base of the hull to the top of the main deck. Rainbow Dash sticks close to Doug, peering around corners at the thick beams of wood and metal armor clad to the hull. She peeks through every porthole as if making sure she could squeeze through them, giving Doug a nervous smile each time she races back to him.

They come to a stop in a remarkably clean room at the fore of the ship, about halfway down.

“You do tattoos?” Doug asks the short hedgehog, glancing around the sickbay at the various instruments, bottles, and stacks and stacks of bandages, many strapped down or behind locked cabinets. It’s about as well equipped as Ponyville General, though more suited for battlefield injuries than pregnant mares.

“Thure,” Grubber replies with a heavy lisp, nodding along as he pats the top of a bolted-down operating table. He unhooks and pushes out a stepladder, placing it next to the table, then pulls out a drawer containing dozens of colors of ink, teal and gray massively overstocked. “Thmall guy like me? I thcrub floorth, do tattooth, and get thent out firtht to thet up loudthpeakerth.” He chortles as he scarfs down the rest of the icing. “What’d’ya expect, me to pick up a thield?”

“Nah, just curious.” Doug sits down on the table, his gloves in his lap.

“Tho, you both hiring on?” Grubber licks his claws clean of any trace of icing, then scrubs them down. “Getting the teal and steel?”

“Actually, a bit of custom work.” Doug taps Rainbow Dash’s flank, then the gloves. Grubber turns to watch. “Raikou suggested it, and we… like the idea. Her cutie mark on my right shoulder.”

“Thure.” Grubber pulls out red, yellow, blue, white, and black, bringing them over to compare to Rainbow Dash’s actual colors. He likes the yellow, but pulls out a dab of blue and red onto a board. His tongue pokes out as he squints, getting the perfect amount of black to mix in and match the shade. “And the retht?”

Doug glances at Rainbow Dash, motioning to each spot. “Three apples on my hand?”

The pegasus smirks. “She is your right-hoof mare. Err, right-hand.”

“Rarity, the three diamonds, on my left. Butterflies on left shoulder.” Doug pauses as he considers. “Balloons on my hip?”

“Nah,” Rainbow Dash says, shaking her head. “Ponies might think you actually got a cutie mark or something.”

“Okay.” Doug taps at his leg. “Balloons on my right thigh, star on my left, wand on my right calf. Then Celestia’s sun on my chest, moon on my back.”

“Life-thith?” Grubber frowns. He points at Rainbow Dash. “I can do thith one, no problem. I’d want the retht here to make thure they’re the right thith.”

“Probably don’t have time now, anyway.” Doug positions himself so his shoulder is where Grubber will stand, laying down and trying to relax. The tonic, whatever was inside, makes it easier.

“For thomething thith big?” Grubber brings over a needle, jabbing it into Doug’s upper arm. He grunts unhappily as a drop of blood wells. “Too long. One thec.”

Rainbow Dash lays down, her cutie mark as close to Doug’s shoulder as she can get without interfering when Grubber starts working. At the next light gasp of his she turns, watching as Grubber lightly marks where he will be working.

It doesn’t take long before she gets bored.

“Hey, Dash,” Doug says as she gently bashes her head against his side. Grubber angrily grunts as Doug shifts, his clawed hand able to grip like a vice despite his small size. Doug tries to hold still as he reaches behind Rainbow’s ears, drawing the mare against him with tender scratches. “Do I need to give you more attention?”

A low growl rumbles in the back of Rainbow’s throat. She smiles to herself before looking up at Doug, resting her head against his thigh. “You foaling me?” She nudges him, but not hard enough to move him. “I can always use more attention.”

“Yeah,” Doug returns glumly. He sighs, settling back and staring at the ceiling, gritting his teeth against the sharp pricks of pain on his shoulder. “I know you can. You and everypony else.”

“Hey.” Rainbow Dash nudges him again, her pressing harder, more needful. He looks down, a little surprised at her openness with somecreature not in the herd around. She smiles wide, unconcerned, especially with how her head rests on his thigh. “That just means we have to make the time we have count for more, right?”

“That’s right,” Doug says, playing with her ears while gripping her head against his side.

Next Chapter: Ch. 49 - Tempered Flesh, Part Four Estimated time remaining: 24 Hours, 8 Minutes