Twilight and the Spartan Stallion 2

Part 4: Gathering Allies

It had been two weeks since Twilight’s announcement of her pregnancy. The world did, of course, keep turning, but it was a very exciting time for the Sparkle household. And by exciting, one means freak-out stressful. The purple mare had been a ball of nerves every few hours since the day she’d told her husband they were going to have a foal, and he’d been playing damage control all the while. “Spartan, what am I gonna do when I get fat?” Twilight sulked as she went back and forth with stacks of books.

The sandy-colored stallion slowly lowered his history book for a long stare at his love. He arched an eyebrow at her and fixed her with a silent frown. After careful thought, the warrior entertained the answer, “Marvel at the miracle of new life and praise Her Shining Immortal Majesty for our fertility?” He grinned at her lopsidedly.

Twilight rolled her eyes, ignoring that answer. “I mean, I’ll have to worry all about how the foal is doing, and I won’t get to run around as much, and I’ll certainly need to watch what I eat and the cravings will hit me and morning sickness and—” she paused for breath as she heaved a few volumes onto the proper shelf and nudged them into place with her horn. “But I’ll get round and slow and my magic might give out a little. Some unicorns lose their magic altogether while they’re pregnant! Can you imagine what I would do all day if I had no magic?!” she fretted and shuffled about, worrying and whining as she re-shelved things.

Spartan rolled his eyes a little. He imagined his wife would read, read, read and fret unnecessarily while their foal grew inside her. Deciding he’d had quite enough of her worrisome squawking, he set his book aside and stretched as he stood. She pushed the returned-books cart back and forth between shelves, setting things up in a busy-bee sort of manner. All the while, she kept looking at her sides, peering under herself—as though she were expecting to gain fifty pounds and a big belly on the spot. She’d known she was pregnant for all of two weeks, and she was already a mound of stress. Spartan Shield sauntered up behind her, and with all the subtlety of a baton to the face, grabbed her tail in his teeth. “Come.” He said, dragging her along.

“Hey! HEY!” Twilight fought and bucked a little, but he tugged her over to a full length mirror.

“What dost thou see, Twilight?” he asked her, nodding at their reflections.

“Us?” Twilight said.

He turned and looked at her with quite the serious gaze. “I see Celestia’s finest student, and Celestia’s finest warrior. Making a foal. Together.” He turned and kissed her cheek as her face turned a lovely shade of red. She… she hadn’t really thought of it that way. That did sort of make the foal kind of… kind of epic, in a way. Not that she was into breeding and genes and all that sort of thing like some Canterlot nobles were, but the combination did sound grand when you thought about it like that. She allowed herself a coy smile. “Now finish thy shelving and come to bed. Thy stress needs relieving in more ways than one.” He told her with a firm nuzzle. A very male smirk crossed his face before he turned away.

“It’s two in the afternoon!” Twilight said, aghast. “What are we, animals?!”

Spartan paused on the stairs that led up to the bedroom. “Since when has the time of day dictated when I may or may not kiss you in naughty places?” he flicked his crimson tail at her in an indignant way, then started up. His hooves were heavy and authoritative. There was to be no argument there. Twilight blushed more deeply, but found herself grinning coyly. He was so cute when he was like that. He might appear gruff and uncaring to some ponies, but those that paid close attention could see his golden, caring heart. She giggled, going back to the book cart to finish her work. She wasn’t worried about getting rounder, really, that wasn’t it. She just wanted to be ready for when the big day arrived. She would have to avoid alcohol, and caffeine, and all SORTS of things!

When she was done, Twilight turned and cautiously went up the stairs. Turning into the bedroom and making sure Spike was not around to see anything he shouldn’t, she poked her head into the bedroom. Spartan lay on his side on the bed, patting it comfortingly. Beams of sunlight covered him, making him glow in an otherworldly way as he smiled at her. When Twilight lay next to him, powerful arms wrapped around her and pulled her to him. She giggled, feeling safe and protected. Turning, she nuzzled into his muscled chest and undercarriage. They stayed like that for a long time as his big hooves massaged the stress away from her shoulders and ribs. Easing her onto her back, he did kiss her in naughty places. She felt at ease, some of the stress slipping from her mind. She and her husband were a team. They would be alright. Even if she got as round as a beach ball for awhile.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

11 Months Later…

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Twilight Sparkle was sitting hunched over the books she’d been given, absently stroking the napping and nameless foal. The changeling hive hummed quietly around her chamber, but she’d learned to tune out the sound. Most of what she was given was rather old, and had printing press marks on them that she didn’t recognize. They were from Canterlot, yes, but the markings were from companies that probably didn’t exist anymore. Titles such as ‘The Long Road Home’, ‘Mixed Unit Tactics’, and ‘Night’s Favoured Child’ were among them. None of them did Twilight recognize, and despite their age and current location they were of pony origin. There was a knock at the door, which startled the mare. “Come in?” it came out like a question.

There was a short silence, and it was pushed open by a changeling with a red blanket draped over his back. He had a tray of food in his jaws, and peered at her with a mix of curiosity and respectful fear. When he saw the foal was asleep, he seemed to deflate in relief, setting the tray down. “Sorry for barging in earlier.” he said with a northern accent, startling the purple mare. The foal stirred, but curled up tighter and pressed against her mother’s belly.

“You can talk?!” Twilight gaped at him.

“Well of course I can. All changelings can.” He cocked his head at her, nosing the tray closer so the door wouldn’t hit it on his way out. She stared at him. All she’d heard so far was skree-skree-skree, in some feral tongue she couldn’t decipher. “Well, I’m using a spell on myself so you can understand me. See?” he gestured to the base of his horn. Twilight saw a tarnished silver ringlet there, clamped onto him by a small hinge. “This lets me speak in a way you can understand. I call it a babble ring.”

“Who are you?” Twilight Sparkle wanted to know.

“I am Ambassador Doppleganger, at your service.” He gave a little bow.

“At my service? Will you be the one letting me go, then?” Twilight said sourly. They regarded each other rather closely, and she finally saw that the red blanket draped over his back was not a blanket but a cape of some sort. He was a changeling of status, then.

“Actually, I’d be the one to lead you to neutral ground to be traded if things go according to plan.” Doppleganger said, looking to one side in an unsure way. Twilight scowled at him. “Is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable? You are a prisoner, but only politically. It’s not as though we’re oiling up the rack to stretch you on.” He grinned at her with all his terrifying fangs, and the humor was entirely lost on the poor mare. She lit her horn threateningly. There was another long silence of her staring at him in mild fear, but she soon covered it up with anger. His eyes flicked down to the foal, and she hunched angrily to half-hide her.

“They’re not going to give you my brother.” Twilight growled. “They’re going to rescue us, and you’re gonna be sorry. Really sorry.” She turned sideways and laid on her belly on the little nest of blankets. The foal whined, stirred, and settled against her again. Mommy was warm, but she kept moving around.

The changeling cocked his head to one side, then the other, as though weighing her words. “…is it really so much to ask?” said the Ambassador after a time. “One pony, a fine stallion, to ensure the survival of an entire species?” He watched her face, which flickered into uncertainty for a short time. Then it re-hardened and she heaved an angry sigh.

“It’s kidnapping, mind control, rape, and slave trading.” Twilight said stiffly, turning her head. “It’s wrong. I don’t care what the circumstances are, your nation has already attacked mine before. At a wedding, no less!”

“True.” said the Ambassador with a light nod. He looked over his shoulder with perked ears for a moment, as though he were hearing a high-pitched noise. Twilight couldn’t hear anything. “Say, would you like to take a tour? The hive isn’t just a dank hole in the ground, you know.” He offered another changeling smile, but it only unsettled Twilight so he dropped it. “I really do want you to be comfortable here.” He said earnestly, scuffing a hoof on the ground. “I know the circumstances aren’t best, but it is my job as an ambassador to--!”

Twilight interrupted with an icy whisper. “I was taken from my hospital bed minutes after giving birth to my daughter. I’m being held ransom so that my brother can be traded for myself to breed the next generation of a group of monsters that want nothing more than to suck the love and life out of anypony they can get their hooves on.” She leaned at him threateningly, her horn igniting again. He wilted back submissively, not wanting to fight her. It occurred to Twilight that every changeling was more than likely under orders not to harm her or the foal. They were valuable bargaining chips. Her husband’s influence welled up inside her, and she wanted very much to slam him into the ceiling with her powerful telekinesis. She gave a light, warning sort of push at his body with her magic.

The ambassador wilted a little, backing off as quickly as he could. He pulled at his cape a little in case he tripped over it. “W-well, if you change your mind—”

“I need more blankets. My foal gets cold at night sometimes.” Twilight said, turning and gathering her young in her mouth by the scruff of her neck. The tiny little body hung limp, eyes closed in a fretful little sleep. She crossed the room, getting into the strange moss-with-blankets bed that had been provided. It was odd to have both a nest and a bed, but she’d been using both.

“Oh, of course.” Doppleganger turned and un-clipped his cape from his own back, drawing near. Twilight hunched like a mountain cat, ready to pounce. But, he steeled himself and came near, throwing it over her and the foal. Her horn glowed brightly and he backed off before she decided to strike him down. Protective mothers could be very potent in hurting others. Making himself seem smaller and less threatening, he slowly backed away with his head bowed. Twilight never took her eyes off of him. Her accusing, angry eyes. “Please, I uhm…” for an Ambassador, Doppleganger sure seemed to stumble over his words a bit. “I know you’re angry, but if you need anything please let us know?” he asked her with sad eyes. The purple mare said nothing, for she was inspecting the cape-blanket draped over her and her young. From underneath, she heard the foal let out a long and whining yawn before burrowing harder against her warm body. Her expression softened a little, and she watched him back away when he decided to check on the food tray again. “Twilight Sparkle, may I ask you something?” he said softly.

“What?” Twilight said, nosing at her sleepy foal a few times before turning to look at him again.

“Who is… this? The scouts that brought you said he was probably important to you.” There was an audible FWOOSH of magic. His chest inflated as a wave of neon green glowing rushed over him. He grew in stature, bigger and bigger until a sandy-colored stallion stood in front of him and scowled at her.

Twilight frowned crossly. Before her stood a green-eyed version of Spartan Shield. His mere image made her heart ache, but she covered her homesickness with more anger. “My husband.” She said crossly. “Don’t do that. Don’t look like him.” She pulled the blanket up a little to make sure her foal wouldn’t see if she woke.

Ambassador Doppleganger dropped the illusion with a curious frown. “Is it true that pony households all have their own progenitors? That all your females are fertile and all your males love each female? Is that what ‘husband’ is?” he cocked his head at her.

Twilight was a little caught off guard. Then she remembered: hive mentality. They had one important (fertile) female, one important male, and then the rest of the hive. It made sense that so many changelings looked gender-neutral. They might actually BE gender-neutral, though Doppleganger’s voice was decidedly male. The culture clash was just a little bit endearing, to be honest. Changelings didn’t have a concept of ‘husband’? “My husband loves me.” Twilight said softly, nodding at his questions. She laid her head on the lip of the nest. “Not just for breeding. He takes care of me, and I take care of him.” Her eyes lidded with a tired, unhappy expression.

Ambassador Doppleganger leaned on the doorframe with a quiet and rather jealous look. “Wow.” he breathed softly, trying to imagine such a thing. “I suppose changelings only have one husband for all of us, then. You ponies have one for every dwelling. That must be amazing.” He whispered, looking at the ceiling in wonder. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it, it seemed. It occurred to Twilight that a ‘changeling ambassador’ may have never actually been out on a political journey, since the changeling nation was hermit-like in nature. Maybe he was just a changeling that was brave enough to come in and talk to her?

“It is.” Twilight said, staring at nothing. Her head lifted when her foal stirred, and she nuzzled her back into dreamland. The Ambassador bowed a little, turning to leave them alone. She saw him pull off the little ring on his horn as he got out into the hallway. He spoke some undecipherable skree-skree-skree to the behemoth standing watch, then went on. The massive changeling turned and, with two giant claws, gingerly shut the door. The purple mare sighed, resting her chin on her foal’s back and withers.

Ambassador Doppleganger trekked down the winding tunnels, passed the grand ziggurat and woves his way beyond the ancient singing holes of the breezeways. The hive was well ventilated in the summer, and well-insulated in the winter. Since it was late autumn, there was a bit of both depending on the time of day. Cocking his head, he spread his wings and buzzed along through the air until he got to the throne room of the hive. Coming to his knees, he bowed before his Queen.

“Well?” asked Chrysalis.

“Our cultures are very different, You Majesty.” Doppleganger hum-buzzed, lowering his wings in a submissive way when a nearby behemoth growled at him. “But… if I may… must we pursue Shining Armor in particular? Can we not snatch a traveler of the wastes and use him instead?”

Chrysalis stood from her laying pillows and Ambassador Doppleganger sank onto his belly, even lower than before. She eyed him with a cool, balming gaze. The twin behemoths on either side of her throne roared and snarled, drumming their many legs on the ground. Heaving against their chains ferally, they only made the poor changeling shiver harder. When the Queen came close he bowed his head and didn’t dare look at her. She offered a hoof with a mild gesture and he kissed it quickly, already seeing his mistake. Questioning the crown was not a good way to live one’s life… or enjoy the way one’s carapace was currently arranged… or enjoy the number of wings on one’s back. The Changeling Queen cupped his chin lightly, lifting his gaze to hers. It was icy and terrible, but her tone was even. “The changeling race takes on the characteristics of its last progenitor. If we want to be strong, we must find a strong stallion to help me lay the millions of eggs we need to survive as a species.” She told him. He nodded, trying not to tremble in her grasp. She could explode his head with a thought, but no, she had a better use for him still. He was sympathetic in the eyes of Twilight Sparkle, still. “Do you doubt my will for providing the best for the hive, Ambassador Doppleganger?” she asked musically, clutching down at his windpipe.

“N’ugh m’ahgh k’een!” He gagged, until she lessened her crushing, magical grip. “N-no my Queen! You know what is best for the hive, my Queen! P-please forgive me, my Queen!” he put his head under her massive hoof, submissive and offering his life as any good servant did for displeasing her.

Chrysalis gave his head a test-squeeze with her hoof and he whimpered loudly, shaking like a leaf. She could end him and no-ling would question it. She was the Hive Queen, their lives were hers to do with as she pleased. She considered it for a long, icy moment, but did not. She leaned down instead, pecking the top of his head in a motherly way. “Worry not, my little hiveling.” She whispered to him. He looked up at her with soft, terrified eyes. “Shining Armor is the ultimate prize for our hive, and with his help we will grow more powerful than ever before. Powerful Stallion means a powerful hive.” She favored him with a fanged smile, which he quickly returned. “Celestia will fold and give anything to retrieve her most faithful student, I am sure of it. There is no pony more majestic and powerful than Shining Armor.”

=-----=-----=-----=-----=

“Hrmmm…” Spartan Shield, Big Macintosh, and Mr. Cake all leaned over the same little notebook. It was Twilight’s immaculate hoofwriting, for sure. After a few hours of wandering randomly around the library looking for information on changelings, he’d found nothing. So, he’d brought in his two closest stallion friends, Big Mac and Mr. Cake. The trio had narrowed it down nicely, then found the slim volume pressed between some other reference books. Twilight’s notes on the changelings were detailed, had drawings, and plenty of theories on how they functioned as a society.

“They’re scary-lookin’, huh?” Mr. Cake said as they pressed together to look over the little book. “Black and full of holes… horns AND wings, all of them?” he gasped, pointing to a drawing. While Twilight was not an artist, she’d gotten the basic body structure correct.

“Apoptosis.” Spartan read aloud with a frown. “The condition in which a pony may have a medical deficiency or sickness that develops holes in their bodies. Subjects are more prone to sickness, malnutritious habits, and loss of fur.” The three stallions hrmmm’ed over a drawing of a changeling foot soldier, noting his legs and the holes it had. “Is the entire race sickly, then?” the sandy stallion wondered aloud.

“No telling.” Mr. Cake shook his head. “They’re so different from us…”

“Eyuup.” Murmured Big Mac sagely, nodding.

“I must know all I can if I am to find them.” Spartan Shield stroked his chin a bit. Then he looked over, for both his best friends were staring at him. “Didst thou think this was for fun, friends?” he said seriously.

“I-I thought you said the Princess wasn’t sending anypony after Twilight?!” Mr. Cake said. “You can’t go to the Badlands! It’s like a desert full of gorges and sharp rocks and a thousand little changeling hive holes! You’d be eaten in a day!”

“They are not carnivorous.” Spartan shook his head, prodding a hoof at Twilight’s notes. “They survive by absorbing the love from any creature with the ability to love… or they may bite you and suck it out by force.” He hrrrm’ed over the explanations and bullet points his wife had carefully arranged. “That is sort of like eating, I suppose. They do have fangs.” He admitted.

Big Macintosh’s hoof came and rested on the book, blocking it from view. Spartan looked over at him. “Nope…” he said slowly, in a low voice. His eyes portrayed worry and pity.

Spartan found the pity offensive. “This is something I must do, beautiful Macintosh.” He shoved the hoof aside so he could keep reading, a worrisome frown on his face. “Celestia’s abandonment will break her dear heart, but I will not leave Twilight to her fate.” He swallowed a little. “Even if I must cross a desert and… fall into darkness.” The oracle’s words hung heavy in his mind. If he was destined to die trying to get Twilight back… no. No he would not think that way. ‘Spartan will fall’ could mean a lot of things. It could be literal! Perhaps he woud chance upon a changeling hive hole and fall right in…! …and break his neck. He sighed loudly, turning the page and leaning over his love’s notes.

“Nnnope.” Big Macintosh tried again, putting his hoof on Spartan’s shoulder. The stallion hunched a little, trying not to look at him. The barrel-chested farmer worried for his friend, it was plain enough.

Mr. Cake looked at the two of them. It wasn’t really… brotherly affection, but something else he could sense between them. Eh, it was probably his imagination. Though, he still couldn’t wrap his head about why Spartan called him ‘beautiful Macintosh.’ Big Mac seemed to roll his eyes a lot when the name was used, but there was a certain sort of… sort of… Mr. Cake couldn’t put his finger on it. Ah well. “So… so you’re just gonna go by yourself, to save Twilight?”

Spartan looked over at his friends. “Well, no.” he shook his head. “No Spartan goes to war alone. That is against our way. A Spartan’s greatest strength is the pony next to him!” He snorted, laughing a bit. “The two of thee shalt come with me, to retrieve my wife and foal!”

“WHUT?!”

“WHAT?!

=-----=-----=-----=-----=-----=-----=

Spartan Shield stood, aching and bloodied on the field of battle. All around him Lunar Stallions and Spartan Stallions warred with each other. The ground was carpeted with the dead, their broken weapons, and the stink of blood and war. Their shouts were silent, though, and Spartan didn’t understand why. He rushed this way and that, slaying any who stood in his path with lunar armor. He bobbed and weaved out of the way of arrows that were travelling far too slowly to be real arrows. Something was very wrong.

“My, even in thy dreams thou art at war with me.” A voice behind him pierced the dead silence and the stallion whirled. Princess Luna sat regally among the fighting ponies. They staggered past her, lost limbs next to her, shot arrows through her mane, but none seemed to actually touch her. Was she a specter?

Spartan narrowed his eyes with a frown. He looked up. Celestia and Nightmare Moon fought in the sky. He looked back down at her. The dark blue alicorn let him piece things together. “I’ll not mount thee, away from my sexing fantasies!” he snapped angrily.

Luna choked on her own spit and prat-fell over herself. She quickly righted herself, red-faced and furious. “Spartan Shield! Thy manners are worse than thy dreams!” she gestured to the violence and gore lashing out around them both. Spartan blinked when a spray of gore raced over his chest, but he ignored it.

“Perhaps Twilight is around. Or the athlete. Or beautiful Macintosh. He is not a bad lay to dream of.” A dreamy smile crossed the stallion’s face, and Luna almost gagged. “Away to me, phantasm.” He dismissed her, “I’ve better things to enjoy.” He wildly head-butted a passing Lunar stallion, ripped off one of his wings and beat him over the head with it. The alicorn gaped in horror, watching him walk through the battle and towards Canterlot.

“Vicious animal…” she grumbled, teleporting across the dreamscape to meet him while… ughh… The dark goddess found Spartan sprawled out on his back, a great content smile on his face. It was a symposium hall, but he was the only visiting stallion present. To his left was Big Macintosh, clad in Spartan armor and feeding him green grapes. ‘Tween his lounging legs was a phantom Twilight Sparkle, her head lovingly bobbing up and down. To his right was a pale, blue-green mare playing a lyre. Chained to the wall was none other than Pinkie Pie, a silvery strip of duct tape over her big mouth. In one’s dreams, life was absolute bliss. Spartan murred, leaning his head back and smiling in utter contentment.

“STALLION!” Luna exploded in a fury. Rearing up, she stomped her hooves upon the ground. The dreamscape shuddered and every-dream-pony present burst into ash. “THY PERVERSION WILL WAIT!” she roared, her hooves sending wild cracks across the floor.

Spartan startled angrily, getting up off the massive pillow. The change in scenery had made him forget entirely that he was dreaming… and now here was the object of his hatred. Pulling a spear and shield from exactly nowhere, he started forward to do battle with her. Nightmares could be fought, after all. Night… nightmares? He paused, blinking stupidly. He stared up at her, then his face flushed. “If thou speak-eth a word of this to my wife…” he gestured threateningly, then at the scene that wasn’t there anymore. “My dreams are my own, not a mirror of my waking actions!”

“Neigh, I will not divulge.” Luna said acidly. “Only for your listening ears, for but a moment.” The Princess turned sideways and frowned. “Think not you’ll be sneaking south unnoticed, Spartan.” She told him, turning her nose up. “I spied upon you with my scrying pool after you went home from the museum. You are planning on seeking out Twilight Sparkle against my sister’s wishes and mine.”

“My life is my own. The oracle has given her prophecy.” Spartan snapped angrily. “You cannot jail me as you did Shining Armor.”

“Shining Armor sits bored in a royal apartment.” Luna said with disinterest. “However, we… wish you to know we do not entirely agree with Celestia’s choice.” She looked at the ground a bit.

Spartan’s expression softened. “You don’t? I seem to recall thee keeping my armor from me.” he said cautiously.

“I’ve had time to think on things. While I agree sending an army would not be wise, I do not believe it right to leave Twilight to her fate, either. Not even a token party sent to fetch her? My sister insults her most faithful student.” Luna said, anger flitting across her features for a moment. “I do not know if she is playing some sort of long game, or what it doing through her mind. However, I cannot stand idly by while she who freed me from darkness is sitting in it herself.” The Princess looked at Spartan Shield a little forlornly. “I… I know thou hates me beyond all measure, but Twilight Sparkle doth matter more, surely?”

“If you’re asking to join me on the journey south—!” Spartan began, backing up with a scowl.

“Neigh, neigh I do not.” She smiled a little bitterly. “Going to war was always a stallion’s job in your era, was it not?” Luna paused for a moment, considering her words. “I am going to send your armor, along with one of my stars, to you. Consider them a gift of good faith, that thou shalt retrieve poor Twilight.”

“My armor?! Truly?!” Spartan perked.

“Yes, and this as well.” Luna lifted a hoof. A little ball of sparkling light appeared, hovering over her hoof. “This is Polaris, one of my earliest and most powerful stars.”

“The… northern star, Polaris?” Spartan frowned at it. “THE northern star? That’s it, there?”

“Yes.” Luna nodded with a sigh. “I’ll put a replacement in its spot in the sky, nopony will know the difference. But you will carry this one when it arrives to you with your things.”

“Why would thou give me such a thing?” he wasn’t following.

“You will descend into the deepest dark, Spartan.” Luna tossed the star back into the sky, coming close. She sat before him, ears wilted. “The very deepest. Polaris will light your way for you, and it will never go out no matter what.”

“A torch then!” Spartan brightened. “A flameless torch would be most valuable!”

Luna opened her mouth to explain it more, but closed it again. Him accepting her gift was victory enough, he would figure it out on his own. There was a long silence between them, and they stared at each other. The Princess lifted a hoof of peace to him. He stared at it, then up at her. Could there not be peace between them?

“What will her Shining Immortal Majesty think, my defying her?” he quickly turned to one side. Her hoof quickly came down and she coughed. “Will she not punish me for such things?”

“My sister has yet to learn, over all the eons, the difference between what she wants and what she needs.” Luna smiled bemusedly. “Sometimes she needs somepony to stand up and tell her no.” she folded her wings in a regal way, and smiled at him. “Usually it’s me defying her, but we are equals so it does not mean as much.”

“She abandons Twilight to the darkness of the hive. I… I do not know how to feel about Her Majesty.” He admitted in a troubled way.

Luna heaved a quiet, troubled sigh. While truly this was one of the longest dialogues they’d ever shared that had not devolved into a shouting match, it was sad to see the warrior waver in such a way. His goddess had done the unthinkable, what was he supposed to do about it in the end? Wash his hooves of her, perhaps? No… no. She didn’t know.

Spartan harrumphed to get her attention again, and she snapped out of her thoughts. The sandy colored stallion looked at her sideways, and mumbled something to himself before speaking. “Thank… you.” He said it slowly, as though tasting the words. “Thou helps me when Celestia does not. If I retrieve my wife, I will be in thy debt.”

“Spartan…” Luna said in an uncomfortable way, looking to one way with a slight blush. Something in the dreamscape shifted, and she knew it was time for him to go. “Spartan. Spartan. Spartan. Spartan…!” He stared at her repeating herself.

=-----=-----=-----=-----=

“Spartan! Spartan Shield! Hewwooo!?” A wall-eyed mare was right in front of his face, nosing him a little. The stallion startled awake, ripped from his dream. “Hey sleepy head! You’re getting to be like Twilight if you fall asleep studying like that!” she giggled. Derpy had not been told of Twilight’s predicament, so she just thought the purple mare was out somewhere.

“The mailmare.” Spartan grumbled, rubbing his eyes a bit. “What… *yawn*… what an odd dream.” He grumbled. “What is it?”

“I’ve got mail for you of course!” Her eyes derped a little wider than normal in her elation, and she got a clipboard out for him to sign. Spartan wiggled his signature down with a quill, and she turned about to leave the library. “Come on! It’s too big to get in the door!”

Spartan Shield followed her outside, stopping to gape. There was a wooden crate in the front yard, marked with the royal seal of Canterlot. Sitting on top of it was a small cardboard box that was sending tiny lines of light out of its edges. Whatever was inside there, it was glowing like a searchlight.

Derpy wheeled about with a crowbar in her mouth, sticking it into the little slot and prying hard. Moaning with effort, she cracked the wood and sent the sides of the crate flying. The box fell as well, and when the dust cleared Spartan grinned.

Spartan Shield’s armor, still on the mannequin from the museum, gleamed as though it had been polished only moments ago. “How I’ve missed thee…” he whispered reverently. He found his spear and shield laying on the ground as well, pressed into the packing straw.

“Cooool!” Derpy added helpfully, staring at all the shiny armor.

The stallion reached for the helm, lifting it quietly from the fabric head of the statue pony. He held it high, letting it gleam gloriously in the same. He stared at it. He saw the little nicks and marks in it here and there, and he knew where each one came from. A glanced arrow here, an almost-lucky wing sword there… it was a relic, but it was still his. Lowering his head slowly, he slipped it on and closed his eyes. Ancient battles rang in his ears. He took a deep breath and held it, savoring the sweet moment of—

“Where’s my muffin?” Derpy wanted to know.

“Uh?” Spartan looked over.

“Twilight always gave me a muffin when I delivered something heavy to the library. Where’s my muffin?” she crinkled her muzzle in a rather adorable cross expression. Spartan Stared at her blankly. “Well?” she said insistently.

“I have no muffins for thee.” He said, shaking his head.

CLONK! His head rang like a bell, for he’d completely misjudged the mare’s speed when she clanged the side of his helm with her crowbar. “I’m telling Twilight on you when she gets home!” Derpy said, snapping her mailmare’s hat on. “I helped you open it and everything. Meanie!” Derpy took off, mortally offended, into the sky.

“I’m not a meanie…” Spartan mumbled, trying to regain his sense of balance. It only then occurred to him to wonder what had happened to Big Macintosh and Mr…. He saw them round the bend just then, and smiled as he struggled into his armor. Big Mac had bulging saddlebags on either side of him, weighed down for a long way’s travel. He looked majestic and strong. Mr. Cake had a bullet belt of cooking spices and colored sugars on his little chest. He looked utterly terrified. “Thank you both.” He offered when they came near.

“Eyuup.” Big Mac offered, smiling broadly.

“Why am I coming?!” Mr. Cake babbled, his knobbly knees shaking. “H-how did you convince me?! I don’t even remember!”

Spartan slung an arm around the shaking pony, crushing him to his side with ghusto. “Adventure waits for nopony, Carrot. When thou returns home, thou shalt be a virile and powerful stallion indeed. Facing down the Changeling Empire and returning alive shall ensure thy foal’s concieving for sure!”

“R-Right.” Mr. Cake smiled in a coy, unsure way. Foals of his own. Foals with his wife, Mrs. Cake. That’s what he wanted. Not that he didn’t love the twins, but everypony wanted to see their own flesh and blood be passed on to the next generation. Maybe a splash of adventure was just what he needed. Hanging around Big Macintosh and Spartan Shield was a sure way to ramp up his testosterone and virility, right? Right! The baker smiled embarrassedly, giving a little nod. If he came back home a big tough guy, there was no way he couldn’t pull it off this time!

Spartan looked up at Big Mac, as though expecting a similar question. The stallion stared at him stoically, a small smile on his face. He smiled back, and the red pony offered an, “Eyuup” of encouragement. Turning, Mr. Cake in tow, they made for the southern exit of town.

“What DID thou tell thy wife you were doing?” Spartan wondered at Mr. Cake as they neared the street corner.

“Uhhh… a long camping trip.” Mr. Cake smiled guiltily. All three stallions laughed, shaking their heads.

“Well now I CAN’T let thee die when we get there, can I?” Spartan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Mr. Cake went a little pale, still trying to smile just the same.

End of Part 4

Next Chapter: Opening the Border Estimated time remaining: 31 Minutes