It had felt like years since he’d been in a soft, comfortable bed. The touch of velvet graced his foreleg, silky, and rolled through the fibres of his fur, skimming his skin. Smacking his lips and smiling to the early morning birdsong, he sighed contently and pullet the sweet smelling sheet up close to his nose.

“First… Charge… Moon…”

The voice, muffled in nature, floated over to him like a dove. “I can’t… mind the farm today, mam,” He said, “I can…” And then he let out another uproarious snore.

“…Deception…”

“Mmmmm… Not,” He waved the interruption away, still locked in bliss.” “Not no… mmmmm.”

“Yes, but… then…” This voice was different, and neither was it his mother’s.

“…Equestria… spread…” Another voice. Male. Gruff. And certainly not that of his mother’s.

“…All… Love…” A smooth voice. Somewhat charming, and tinted with heroics.

“…And… war…”

“…War…”

At first, he thought that the voices were in his head, a disjointed and disproportionate part of some utopian dream he was having. But, as the façade began to wear away and the feeling of security dwindled, he realised that the voices were very real and whoever they belonged to were very close.

“War.”

He awoke with a jolt, and the veil of deception, conceived by his own unconscious mind, was lifted. There was no gentle loving birdsong but the dull droll of chirping crickets. Gasping and groaning, the stallion’s eyes ripped open and were met with a sea of blackness. No early morning sun, peeping over the horizon and glaring curiously through his bedroom window. Just a stuffy and debilitating blackness, the longest night.

The world was all a blur, distorted trails of vapour and occasional streaks of dancing light that cut through his eyesight like a blade. This wasn’t his room, not at all. Coughing, he sat up, panicked and breathless, and fell straight back down.

The voices ceased to be in an instant, and an unnatural silence prevailed. Then whispering, low and secretive, hateful. He felt the ground come up to meet him, and it wasn’t the thick, velvety embrace of bedclothes and duvets that cushioned his fall into the madness and despair of the real world, but the solid soil. It was soft and murky, like sponge, and he felt little droplets of water factor through and run around his back, saturated as though it had recently rained. His wildly erratic hooves groped at the floor, tearing up clumps of dripping soil, and squeezing them tightly, the dirty brown fluids dribbling along his chest which housed his obscurely beating heart.

‘I don’t know where I am I don’t know what’s going on help me somepony help me.’

And then, “Ah, Lovely! You’re awake! So nice to see you well again!”

That voice… he knew who was behind that voice. He stopped his mad thrashing at once, his breath still young in his throat, and cleared his head, shaking away the remnants of his lengthy slumber. The back of his skull hurt like heck, as though some object of considerable weight had made contact with his head at quite a considerable force. But he hadn’t the mind to think on it now. “It’s not Lovely,” the stallion replied, raising to his haunches, “It’s BELOVE.”

Lines creased his vision, and from between those lines, the second half of this conversation stepped forward from the darkness, as though one with the shadows. But the figure was far too white. Far, far too white.

“Belove? But of course it is. Such a strong name. A SOLDIER’S name, aren’t I right?”

“Are you mocking me, Icarus?”

With a brisk shake of his head, his vision returned to him, and all become clear and crisp. There he stood, Captain Icarus of the Royal Bodyguards, with an air of superiority and a knowing smile stretched across his handsome white face. The cerulean feathers of his Corinthian headwear swayed flowingly in the night wind, and his mane swayed underneath. He looked pleased about something. “Not at all,” he replied, his face honest yet smarmy, “I think you’re a fine soldier.”

“Is this some kind of a joke, you poser?”

“You’re too suspicious of other ponies, you know that?” He flashed Belove one of those million-bit smiles he was so famous for, “And here my comrades and myself are, trying to show you a little hospitality.”

The others separated themselves from the shadows, the darkness retreating somewhat as his eyes adjusted to the night. There they were: the unicorn and the Pegasi, all identical in their official armour, with nary a speck of mud showing. Their faces were as their captain’s was: tainted with cheer. The unicorn, Pit, he believed his name was, sat on a log and tended to a small campfire, the flames battling furiously against the light wind, prodding it magically with a stick. The others gave Belove a most chilling stare.

Belove scoffed. “Hospitality? Is thi…!” He stopped suddenly, a sharp pain scorching across his temple and along the back of his head as his voice rose. Reeling in pain, the Earth Pony winced and forced his retching stomach to be still, the world tumbling around him once more, head throbbing, and slid his hoof down the back of his skull. A large bump, round and tender, was apparent. “Did you… did you attack me back there?”

Icarus forced a laugh. “You say ‘attack’, we say… ‘contained.’”

“You can’t just go around knocking ponies out! Battering whoever you want! It was unprovoked!”

“It was within my legal power to do so, as you, Belove, were a possible threat.”

“Oh, I’m a threat all right, Icarus,” Belove lashed out suddenly and violently at the captain, his outstretched hooves catching him off-guard and wrapping around his neck. The Pegasus certainly had not been expecting such a bold move, for the workings of a scream had barely began to register on his face before he was on the ground, unconscious, and Belove was victorious.

Or at least, that is how it seemed.

“Belove? Oh, Belove? Hello! BELOVE!”

The earth pony shook himself a few times to clear the ringing from his ears. “Wha-what?”

“I won’t mock your efforts to lash out at me like that because it takes grit, but also a little bit of stupidity, for if you have yet to notice, you are in a cage and, well… I’m on the other side, now, aren’t I?” Icarus gave him another of his smug shrugs and held his head condescendingly high. “An admirable effort, nonetheless.”

Belove growled, and threw himself against the bamboo bars which stood between himself and the good captain, thrusting half a foreleg through the slim gap. It stopped short, much to his dismay, and Icarus didn’t flinch an inch, much to even more of his dismay. His dismay reserves were going to be depleted soon, if he continued to be in such dismay consistently. “Ah, this is fine hospitality, all right. Punch me over the back of the head, shove me in a cage like a canary or… or some wild beast…”

“As I said, only for everypony’s safety. Including your own.” Captain Icarus sat down upon his haunches, lowering himself to Belove’s level, as spoke into his face, clearly and directly. “Belove, listen, if you would. I have a proposition for you.”

The earth pony scoffed in retaliation. “Huh. And what is it YOU could possibly offer me? Another punch, perhaps?”

“Nothing quite as brash. Belove, I wish for you to join me.”

This remark threw Belove quite the curveball, and he was sure he had misheard over the crackle of the nearby campfire and the melodic chirp of nocturnal insects. “Join me? I mean, you?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“And what do you mean by that, exactly? As a prisoner? A hostage? A bargaining chip?”

Icarus laughed. “Oh, Belove, you’re so paranoid. Of course not. As a COMPANION. A SQUADMATE. A fellow Elite Royal Bodyguard.”

And now Belove knew he’d been hit just a little too hard, and his concussion hadn’t receded after all. “Oh aye, now I know you’re pulling my leg. Whatever sick plan you’re setting up, just get on with it, will you.”

“I have no ulterior motive here, Belove. As my job as Princess Celestia’s personal bodyguard dictates, my only goal at this current moment is to retrieve her, safe and sound, from the clutches of her evil sister. I haven’t the time nor the incentive to worry about trying to best you on a regular basis, Belove. You’re a smart, capable stallion, with bravery and honour and strength the likes of which I’ve rarely ever seen in another pony. I believe you’re bodyguard material. And we’re getting nowhere fighting amongst each other like this: nowhere at all. Just think, Belove, with my skills and your skills combined, imagine how unstoppable we’d be then!” He threw his hooves to the night sky in pre-emptive victory. “Nightmare Moon wouldn’t stand a ghost of a chance!”

The Elite Royal Bodyguards… Belove’s dream position… “And what’s in this for me, exactly?” The small town guard coolly inquired.

“What isn’t in this deal for you, Belove? I can offer you your heart’s desires! Fame and fortune! Glory! Your face would be known across the corners of Equestria! Rich Canterlot mares would cry your name! And,” he winked, “You’d get to see so many new and wonderful, exotic locations. Think about it, Belove! Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted, deep down? To see new lands and new lifeforms? The sun beating down on your neck from a tropical paradise? Ponyville doesn’t deserve you, and those small town hicks can’t even recognise your talents. You know I’m right, Belove. Let’s just break off these foolish hostilities and let bygones be bygones. Join with me, and together, we’ll be an unstoppable, globetrotting team! Join with me and BE LOVED!”

And yet, the Earth Pony remained skeptical. “And what about him,” he pointed to Pit, who had since returned to his work with the campfire, no longer taking an interest in the unfolding drama. “Your right-hoof man. Captain Curlyhead.”

“Who, Pit?”

“Pit, aye.”

The unicorn turned from the fire at the mention of his name, inquisitive eyes flickering under his curled fringe. He shrugged, and asked, “You called?”

Icarus was quick to reply. “No Pit, it’s nothing. Nothing at all.”

Taking the bait, the second-in-command merely shrugged once more, unlistening and uncaring, and turned back to his fire. He was whittling away at a clump of dried wood with a curved knife, and humming softly.

Icarus lowered his voice to a husky whisper and shuffled closer to the caged prisoner-come-ally. “What of him?”

“Well,” explained the earthen one, “What’s his place in our newfound friendship? I can’t imagine he’d take to kindly too it at all, being kicked to the sidewalk in such a manner.”

The good captain stroked his chin, and then leaned closer, pressing his hoof to his lips. “Ah, Pit. A good soldier. But not GREAT. He’s certainly been of use thus far, I’ll give him that, but I’m beginning to feel as though his usefulness is coming to an end. He does not have the grit nor determination that you have to pull a mission through, and, well… its survival of the fittest in this world and he just doesn’t make the cut. Don’t worry, I have a fairly powerful influence, I’ll have you know. If you do not wish to work with him, I’ll have him demoted to a lowly castle guard in an instant.”

There was something about this last remark which made Belove ecstatic. “I knew it, so I did,” he beamed, eyes wide and telling, “I just knew it.”

Taking this as some sort of compliment, or an inside joke that would surely be shared, Icarus smiled. “You knew what, exactly?”

“I knew you’re still as big of a ol' jerk as you always were.”

“Oh.” It took quite a while for Mr Icarus to reply to Belove’s latest statement. His smile, however, dropped instantly, but neither did he frown. He simply stared, silently, emotionless, like an automation, before asking, “And what do you mean by that?”

“Not sure how many ways you can take that, Icarus. I just mean you’re a big lying jerk and you haven’t changed a bit since you were a foal.”

And there was that blank, if slightly confused, face.

Belove facehoofed. “Oh, by Celestia, don’t tell me you… You have! You’ve forgotten me!”

“Far from it, Lovely. I’m talking to you now.”

Belove was certainly being liberal with his facehoofs. “That’s not my name, and that’s not what I mean. See, this is what annoys me about you bully types: you forget all about the pain and misery you inflict on your victims, forget it as though it were nothing at all. All that torment, all that teasing, all those names that you called me. You made my young life a nightmare, Icarus. I suppose there isn’t even much point in calling you by that stupid false name, is there, Thunder Charger?”

And again, to the Earth Pony’s surprise, he was again met by a blank and unknowing face from his old elementary school foe.

“You see?” He cast a hoof in his direction, “Ah, sure, this is exactly what I mean! You have no idea how tough you made my life, you auld git, you. My school days were a nightmare, thanks to you, Thunder, and then you have the nerve to forget all about it as though it were nothing to you? Well, guess what: I didn’t forget. I could never forget.”

Icarus’ blank, unknowing face was beginning to agitate him somewhat. It was as though he genuinely didn’t know what Belove was speaking about, and that is what annoyed him most of all.

“But then, when I beat you at that school race all those years ago… oh boy, did that feel good. It was liberating, you know? That’s when I realised that I didn’t need to be afraid of you anymore. What happened after that, tell me? You moved away to Canterlot, aye?”

Icarus made a bold move by shrugging. “I guess I did.”

“’I guess I did.’ What sort of answer is that, by Celestia? Ah, you can give yourself a fresh lick of paint and a new name, and act the good guy, but the truth is that you’re a nasty wee mule with a sick sense of humour and a bad attitude. But here’s what I think is the worst…” He pushed himself up to the bamboo bars, and snarled, “Even though he was as unpleasant as you were, Barry Brick was pretty much your best friend back when we were wee kids. And you left him without so much as a goodbye. You used him as a pawn and then, when it suited you, you kicked him to the dirt and pursued your own career in Canterlot. That destroyed him, so it did. He was never the smartest pony but it really took its toll on his grades. You used him, and betrayed him. And since then, you haven’t changed a bit. You’re willing to sell out Pit on a moment’s notice. And you’d do the same to me, I’m sure.” He leaned past Icarus’s blank face, and loudly announced, “Oi, Pit! I don’t know you all that well, but you’re probably too good for this traitorous piece of rubbish! He’ll use you and forget you like that!” He snapped his hooves for effect.

Pit looked as bewildered as his superior. He merely shook his head.

“Well,” Icarus spoke after the longest time, arising, “That was certainly insightful. But that’s all in the past, Belove, and I’m sorry for it. You’d be a fool to refuse my generous offer.”

“I’d be a bigger fool to accept it.”

“This is your last chance, Belove. You’d be throwing away your chance at stardom and luxury. You’d be throwing away your heart’s desire.”

“It’s no desire of mine to see your ugly gurnin' mug every day. I saw it enough when I was a colt and I was glad to be rid of it.”

“So be it,” Icarus seethed, the old anger returning. His eyes grew dark, and his voice husky and chill. “I’ve tried everything with you, you know that? I’ve tried to be civil, and generous, and offer the olive branch of peace, but your arrogance and false pride have made it nigh impossible. All I hoped for was some sort of mutual understanding, maybe even a friendship, but of course, that would be wishful thinking when dealing with one of your intelligence.”

Throwing a tender hoof to his chest, Belove recoiled and sighed dreamily, soppily. “Oh Icarus, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, to be sure! Aye, come hider, my sweet colt cuddler! We’ll be married come spring!”

“Insolent dog! You dare mock me?” The good captain clicked his hoof and suddenly he was surrounded by three angry Pegasi and one stern-faced unicorn. They rolled their heads menacingly. “To think I could strike a deal with you.”

Belove spat. “Ten bits says that I could beat you in a fight, stallion to stallion.”

“And how,” Icarus returned amidst the laughter of his comrades, “Do you plan on that? In case you haven’t gotten this through your thick skull already, allow me to reiterate. You’re trapped in a cage. I am not trapped in a cage. I am free. You are not. Therefore, you are in no position to make empty threats.”

“We’ll see about that. My friends are out there, somewhere. And you’d best believe they’re looking for me. They’ll find me in no time.”

“Oh, how delightful!” Clapping his hooves together, Icarus gleefully chortled. “You actually think that those freaks are going to look for you? How tragic. You’re a hypocrite if you’re going to call me a traitorous fiend, Belove, for you haven’t been all that pleasant with your quote on quote ‘friends’ as of late, now have you?”

Folding his hooves, Belove seemed not the least bit surprised. “If you’re expecting me to be shocked, think again. I’m not at all brainy, but I’m not stupid, and I know that you took our stuff from that cave when we were sleeping.”

He was interrupted by the sound of Pit hoisting an embroidered saddlebag into Belove’s line of sight. Hastily unzipping it, metallic buckle gleaming like a star, he pulled a small vial of hoof sanitizer from the deep confines and noisily applied it to his hooves with a sticky sloshing squeak. “Don’t mind me,” quipped he. Belove knew Weatherstorm would not appreciate this brutish creature rummaging through his things. He would not appreciate it one bit.

“As I was saying,” Belove continued, irked, “It was fairly obvious that you took our supplies right from under our noses. I’ve never known a pack of Timberwolves show much enthusiasm to some canned oats and badly written love poetry, like. You did it to break us up, didn’t you? To scatter us and divide us so you could prey on us, one by one. Aye, it was you, and your little puppet Starfire, the backstabbing spy.”

“Excuse me? Star-who?”

“Don’t play dumb, Icarus, alright? Quit taking the mick. I’ve been onto you from the beginning. I’m talking about your man on the inside, Starfire.”

“Which one is that now…?”

Belove sighed, exasperatedly. “The unicorn. Blue. Blond hair. Funny accent. Can’t say water. That fella.”

Expectations are not always representative of a final product: in fact, for the most part, quite the opposite, depending on one’s situation, and the gravity of one’s situation. Prior preparations are to be made in advance should one’s expectations not be met, as a single, natural reaction can crush these imagined prospects. But what Icarus did next defied all of Belove’s expectations.

Captain Icarus laughed.

Captain Icarus laughed hard.

He laughed long and hard, and his henchmen laughed with him. And he seemed to be having a jolly good time indeed. At Belove’s expense, no less. As was to be expected, this made the Earth Pony rather steamed.

“And what,” cried Belove over the ruckus, “Do you find so funny?”

“I-it’s just… so precious!” Icarus stammered in between gleefully laboured breaths, wiping an errant tear from his cheek. “You think that he worked for me… as a spy!”

“I’m not getting the joke here, guys.”

Then their faces drooped, and the serious, professional masks were re-applied. Icarus smiled like a cobra, all teeth, all bite. “You’re the joke. You honestly think that I’d get that social-shut-in-nerd to spy on your little band of misfits for me? You actually think you’re that much of a hindrance to my grand scheme of things? Worth that much effort?”

“Well…” Belove was certainly hoping he was considered a blight, a literal thorn in the stallion’s otherwise pristine side. “Aye. I guess.”

“You ACTUALLY think I’d associate myself with that geek? I’m a celebrity, Belove. I’m an A-Lister. I wouldn’t be seen dead with such a lowly spec of dirt such as this ‘Starfire’ weakling. You’re really flattering yourself now, if you even think that I’d have somepony spy on you to begin with. You didn’t need anypony to sabotage your ill-fated entourage: you did that well enough yourself. And then we saw that Pegasus, the orange maned one with the dopey face…”

Belove’s wide eyes nearly popped out of his throbbing skull. “Derky? What did you do?”

“...We just saw how tired he looked, after you all retired to bed and left him on guard, alone. And he was up for a very long time, bless him. You could really tell he was trying his hardest to stay awake. So, I had an idea. I said, ‘Why don’t we all help him get to sleep?’ Well, the guys and I thought that was a great idea so, with a little persuasion,” he performed a swift, violent bludgeoning motion with his right hoof, “We relieved him of his duty and had him sleeping like a foal. When we saw all of your things sitting there, unguarded, your food and your water, your maps and your… comic books, we said to ourselves, ‘it would be a shame if somepony were to steal everything they need to survive whilst there’s nopony here awake to guard it.’ So we decided to hold onto it. For safekeeping.” The wink he gave his captive was like poison.

“Y-you mean Derky didn’t… and Starfire wasn’t… all along?”

Cruelty was Icarus’ middle name, and his salt reservoirs were fresh and undepleted, plenty of it to rub into open wounds. “Uh oh. Looks like certain hot-headed SOMEPONY was a little inconsiderate with his choice of words, now, wasn’t he? I needed to do nothing, Belove. You betrayed your friends all by yourself.” He closed the gap, and whispered, “You want to be remembered, don’t you? Take solace in the fact that they’ll always remember that.”

“You MONSTER!” Screaming incoherently, Belove did all he could, given his situation: he gnawed at the wooden bars of the makeshift cage like the world’s biggest, and most bad tempered, termite. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can. You’re a dangerous criminal, you and those filth you associate yourself with. Those… LEFTOVERS.”

“Aye, I'll leftover, you, ya flippin' chancer! C'mere, and I'll make sure you…”

“Threatening a high-ranking member of the Equestrian Defence Forces, are we? My, my, you keep making this extensive list of felonies even longer.”

“WHAT FELONIES? I’VE DONE NOTHING WRONG!”

The unicorn handed his superior a pristine, white parchment. It was embroidered with a floral border and tied intricately with a blue ribbon, the official Equestrian seal for matters of dire importance. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thank you.” Icarus rhymed off each of Belove’s, and indeed the rest of our heroes, supposed crimes. “Where do I begin? Obstruction and interference of justice and jurisdiction, resisting arrest, attempted assault on an officer of the law, aiding other known felons, vigilantism, possession,” he pulled one of Cananor’s issues of Phoenix Flight, a laminated and obviously highly valuable tome based on the immaculate dust-cover encasing the comic, from the stallion’s rucksack, “Of Pheonix Flight, issue #132, part II…”

“You can’t charge me on possession of a comic book!”

“A comic book which is, and has been for several years, banned from sale in Equestria. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were going to sell it on the black market.” He flicked forward a few pages. “Naughty, naughty you.”

“Ponyville doesn’t even HAVE a black market!”

“What,” the Pegasus grunted, reaching further into one of the bags, “Would THIS be?” He pulled out several clear bags of freshly ground salt, and smiled, smugly. “Salt?”

“That-that, uh,” Belove blushed, His tongue fumbled. “That isn’t mine.”

“Sir,” one of the other Pegasi drew the attention of the others, hoisting a large, crystallised clump of pink salt-rock to the soft, dew ridden grass, a tangled and tattered brown rope looped through the hole in the middle. “I believe it’s a mineral lick.”

Icarus was enjoying seeing his victim suffer. The earth pony’s face turned as red as the incriminating evidence that lay before him. “For recreational use, Belove?”

“AH, IT'S NOT MINE, I SAID.”

“You’re a very naughty pony. Look at this, for example…” Icarus gave him a chillingly jovial simper, smoothed back his exquisite locks, and unsheathed his sidearm, a golden dagger, encrusted with some of the finest jewels Belove had ever laid eyes on. The steel blade flashed like lightning and cut a singing tune through the still air like true thunder as he lolled it over with small, elegant wrist movements. Then, with another smarmy, toothy grin that may well have lit up all of Equestria for even the briefest of moments, he allowed the knife to fall, silently, into Belove’s own saddlebag. Pulling it from the same bag not a second later, the Pegasus pretended to be shocked, his face twisted with false confusion. He was a very convincing actor. “You were carrying a concealed weapon with you all this time? That’s quite a hefty offense.”

“OH COME ON!” Belove threw his hooves to the mud, splashing the runny brown water around his cheeks and down his chest. He was long past caring. “I LITERALLY JUST SAW YOU PUT THAT IN MY BAG!”

“And who will THEY believe?” He didn’t make reference as to who exactly ‘they’ might be. “Captain Icarus, Equestria’s most renowned superstar, or some common, small town street trash? Don’t bother answering that. It’s rhetorical.”

“That means it’s a trick question that does not need an answer,” Pit chimed in.

“AYE, I KNOW WHAT IT MEANS, HORNHEAD. BUT YOU FORGET THAT I’M A PONYVILLE GUARD: THEREFORE, IT’S LEGAL FOR ME TO CARRY ARMS! STICK THAT IN YOUR SALT LICK AND LICK IT!”

“Dearest Belove, you were more or less a civilian the moment you left the confines of the town. Your laws have no worth, no real value out here in the wilderness. I make the rules here, not you,” he flicked Belove’s muzzle and the guard recoiled, “and you’d do well to remember that.”

“Fine. Do with me as you wish. But tell me WHY you’re doing what you’re doing, and give me the real reason this time. None of these lies, and these false pretences. What are you planning?”

Icarus hesitated for a moment, but his face did not falter, and at last he leaned close on his haunches, an air of malevolence wafting through his professionally groomed mane. His lips slurped as they peeled apart, and his breathing was heavy and excited. “I want you to imagine something. That’s it. Just use that small old brain in that big old head of yours to think up some lovely little pictures. Can you do that?”

“I’m imagining you being trampled by a herd of stampeding bovines.”

“Oh Belove, you’re a gem. Truly.” He licked at his lips again, and unsavoury sound, wet. “Listen very closely. I want you to imagine Equestria. All of Equestria, okay? Are you imagining it?”

“Aye.”

There was all of Equestria. Canterlot with its grand architecture and proud spires, the island of Manehatton with its bustling streets and towering skyscrapers, Cloudsdale with its weeping falls, the shining stars of Las Pegasus, the smog and smoke of Fillydelphia and Detrot, the sharp ringing of harbour bells resounding from Baltimare, the snow-lined sideways of Vanhoover, the rustic charm of Ponyville, the sandy glare of Dodge Junction and the silent solitude of Hollow Shades. There was Equestria in its fullest, every mountain, every rock, every blade of grass and spec of dirt, the serenity of it all under a baby blue sky.

“Imagine all of Equestria… that’s it… imagine it ravished by war.”

And the illusion was broken, the rotten core revealed. Fire. Brimstone. Sulphur and burning. Canterlot’s grand architecture was cragged and broken, the castle’s proud spires snapped from the towers and encased in the mountainside. Manehatton was barren and lifeless, the streets split and the skyscrapers gone, Cloudsdale had fallen and the clouds scorched a sour charcoal. The stars of Las Pegasus were extinguished, and all was silent now. Fillydelphia and Detrot were unrecognisable, as though they’d been wiped from the map, the very land broken away and crumbling to faded nostalgia. Flames shimmied across the wooden docklands of Baltimare, the boats in the harbour reduced to mere driftwood, the orange hue, like a beautiful sunrise, reflected in the dark waters. The lustrous snow in Vanhoover was no more, mute puddles, the grey molten ash taking permanent residence along the decaying alleyways. Ponyville was decimated, dust, and he could make out everything he knew, everything he had grown up knowing… gone. Like a child’s laugh caught in the wind. Gone, snap, gone. There was the schoolyard, and the town square, the main street, all craters, his mother’s farm…

The others all blended into one visceral image: the bleached white wastelands of Dodge Junction, the crumbled and ash-ridden tree house wreckages of Hollow Shades, it was all insignificant now. His mother’s farm, oh woe, his mam, his mam…

Flames, almost flickering green as they burned across the darkening black-blue seas and channels, formed fingers, and hands, and began to pelt down mercilessly on the other continents and countries. The whole world was ablaze, engulfed in war, engulfed in apocalypse.

Shaking himself from his internal battlefield, Belove retched, heaved, and wiped his mouth clear. He could still hear the incessant cackling of the unnatural flames, and his lungs were still full of the cyclamen-purple skyline, clouded by the dying smoke. “What did you do to me?”

“I did nothing,” came Icarus’ reply. His voice was smooth again, and charming, changing on a whim. “You really do have an over-active imagination.”

The images of widespread destruction stayed with Belove still, etched into his retinas like they were engraved with a branding iron. He choked, “Why would you do that? What good would so much destruction do for you?”

“You honestly expect me to explain my intentions to you?” Icarus rubbed him under the chin, patronisingly. His hoof, smooth and conditioned as it looked, was cold and cragged. “You have no idea of the way things really are. You can’t even begin to comprehend…”

“Is it revenge? I’ll bet its revenge.”

“Revenge? Whatever for?”

“Because I beat you in that school race that one time.”

“That would be laughable, were it not so sad.”

“Then why are you going to do… well, whatever it is you’re going to do?”

“For the greater good.”

“You call this diesnotopia…”

“Dystopia, Belove.”

“…of yours the ‘Greater Good?’ You’re MAD! You’re planning on destroying the lives of your Queen, your people, the very ponies you are bound to protect and serve!”

“I AM PROTECTING AND SERVING MY QUEEN AND PEOPLE!” His silky voice rose to a crescendo, “And if a few sacrifices are to be made, then so be it! All the worlds’ a stage, Belove, all the worlds’ ablaze!”

“What does that even mean?”

“All is fair in love and war! Love… and war!”

“What? Oh, I can act like a weirdo too, so I can! Soylent green is ponies! Beat that, eh?”

“Enough!” With that patented Icarus Magic™ he sprung, blurred, to his hooves and stood looming over the dark form of the broken, caged Earth Pony. “I grow tired of your inexhaustible babbling! You’ve burdened me for quite long enough: I offered you a way out, you rejected it, and now you’ll have to pay the piper.”

“Fine then, go ahead. Arrest me, 'oh great Equestrian saviour.' You won’t win this. My friend is a lawyer, he’ll sort this all out, and then I’ll expose YOU, and then you’ll have Captain Shining Armour to worry about…”

“Believe me when I say that Captain Shining Armour is not a concern of mine. It would be awful, truly awful, if he were to have a little accident, and if that were the case, well… as the rescuer of this nation’s dearest Princess, I suppose it’ll be up to me to fill in his place after his retirement, and should that come with complete control over the entire Equestrian armed forces, then… But enough of what is to come. For you won’t be around to enjoy it.” This warranted another round of hearty laughter, but the humour was dry, and dead. “The good news is that we shan’t be arresting you and carting you back to Canterlot, kicking and screaming. No, that requires more effort than you’re worth, and we both know you’ve got loose gums, that is, even if they were to take you seriously at all. No, I’m afraid you’ll be enjoying a similar retirement to the soon to be late-and great Mr Armour, my friend.” He motioned over to Pit. “The big reveal, if you would…?”

Unicorns were, typically, not as well built as the earth ponies of Equestria. However, when the second-in-command moved, slinked away, back past the illumination of the campfire, Belove saw how scrawny, scrawnier than any equine he had ever seen regardless of race, the curly-haired soldier was, with spindly legs like those of an arachnid’s, and stretched skin that seemed too big for his youthful bones. Over to a nearby tree at the other side of the small clearing he scuttled, head held to the ground least he trip over the snaking roots, and to the weathered oak tree at the far side. The trunk blended meticulously into the black staging that was the forest, and the rich emerald leaves looked like they were either levitating or held up by a series of intricate stage wires. In a pantomime-esque fashion, exaggerated and farcical, Pit placed his hooves on the invisible trunk, forelegs bending the blackness and crinkling it back, looked at his bewildered guest, and then dramatically yanked his hooves to one side, ripping away a portion of the trunk. The dark cloth (for that’s what it was) fell free in what could have been passed off as a magician’s act, and fluttered slowly to the soft dewy ground with a ghost-like quality.

“Ta-da!”

Underneath that heavy, hot blanket that had been whisked away, he’d conjured up a ferocious beast. A ferocious beast that was well acquainted with Belove. Well acquainted indeed.

He heard it before he saw it. That terrible, wheezing snore, guttural and grievous, earth-shattering. A lion’s roar. Even though it, too, was similarly trapped in bamboo a cage as he were, Belove could see every detail of the Manticore as clear as day.

‘Birds of a feather get locked up together…’

There was a quaint quality about the beast now, as it slept. The thing’s eyes, so wide and piercing, may have well been the eyes of a foal, for they were closed tightly, the fur of its cheeks gently crinkled along the edges. Its huge head rested, petite, in its tan paws, claws carefully sheathed, and its unkempt mane sprawled across its sleeping brow. The rippled red wings resting on its soft back would twitch sporadically, as though it were attempting to fly, in tune with the turning and lulling of its thick, armoured tail, crimson like roses. Its back arched in time with its breathing; soft, light, and sparse, almost laboured despite its heavy body mass. There was evident bruising on its muzzle, peachy blobish starbursts of faintly disjointed colour, and one of its fearsome front fangs which should have hung over its top lip was missing deriving it of form and installing a sort of asymmetrical ruggedness. It was clear that Icarus and the bruisin’ crew had been a tad rough with the Manticore on their last meeting, and the feral rogue had gotten off a little worse for the wear.

“Do you remember our mutual friend, Belove? You should: he is a most lively sort.”

“I think I do, but it’s hard to tell because you’ve done a number on his face. Give you some clay and you’d change it, beat it into something else, eh.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Shame you can’t change your own sorry face, though. So many ponies rant on about the charmingly good looks of Captain Icarus, but to me, you’re scarred with history. Frankly, I can’t see the appeal.”

Belove had always known Thunder Charger as a vain and fickle creature- he’d never changed one bit, and being widely known and loved as Captain Icarus, the face of the celebrity world, the metaphorical prince in literal shining armour, had only enflamed his ego to arsonistic levels. When one dared to challenge his admittedly handsome features, he naturally did not take it kindly at all. But this time, this time the Pegasus did ought but shrug. He pointed to his gleaming white face. “What, telling me that you don’t like what you see? I’ve certainly gotten used to it.”

Belove made another fake retching noise. “So, I’m desperate to know: why would you go and cage up a wild beast like that?”

“Why would I not?” Picking up a stick from the smouldering fire, the captain floated over to the makeshift cell, where the monster lay unconscious. “He’s a menace, like you. And I think he’ll make a good pet, as you could have. One door closes, another opens.”

He gave Pit a slight nudge and pushed him away from the holding pen. Firelight flickered around his armour, green and brilliant in the reflection. Flashing another thunderous grin, the vile Icarus ruffled his waxy wings and then lashed forward, holding the jagged stick at hoof’s length and thrusting the pointed end like the tip of a rapier sword through the gaps in the wooden cell logs. The instrument hit its intended mark, caught the Manticore on the left nostril, flaring. Giving an unnecessary twirl, he threw the stick in the air and caught it with his other hoof, jousting the poor slumbering creature on the left eyelid and peeling it upwards. “Wakey wakey, Mr Manticore!” He called out to the beast, “Wakey wakey!”

Wakey wakey, the Manticore did. Slowly, like a budding flower, it opened its left eye, then the other, revealing two bloodshot white spheres, two veiny moons, savage and wonderful. Yawning, it scratched behind its flapping ear, licked its paw contently, and stretched, rising upwards, upwards, like the scorpion it was.

It stopped when it saw the audience of faces staring down at it.

A series of white, mocking faces. Long, equine faces, filled with jeer and corruption.

Icarus didn’t seem at all surprised when the Manticore sprung to action and, like a blur of fur, swiped at his face with a powerful lunge. Of course, the attack never came close to meeting its mark, the captain made sure of that, and the big cat only succeeded in scraping its knuckles along the bamboo bars that confined it. Furious, the Manticore stared inquisitively down at his throbbing paws, then back up at Icarus, as though he were to blame all along. The Pegasus riled him up with another poke of the stick, and whilst clenched paws erupted through the air all around him, so close but so harmlessly far, he turned, somewhat pleased with himself, and stated, “Oh dear, Belove. I seem to have disturbed him greatly.”

“Aye, must be because you were poking him with that stick, there.”

Icarus cringed. “I-I know, Belove. I… never mind. But here’s something for you to chew on,” he aptly tilted his head as a paw swung past behind him, “Manty here is in a bit of a foul mood. Not really a morning creature, is he? But now that he’s up, I think he’ll be expecting some breakfast.”

Belove squirmed wildly in his small cage. “You can’t feed me to a Manticore!”

“I think I’ll do just that. It’ll be much easier to explain if you’re taken by a wild beast. Less ways to trace your disappearance back to me, at least for a while.” He blew on his hoof, and held his head high. “Now, we’ve cut his claws to prevent any sort of unwanted escape, but his teeth are still perilously sharp. Good for tearing,” he snapped his own teeth, “And biting, and ripping things apart. But let’s give him a little bit of time to tire himself out, shall we? He’ll eat better after some morning exercise.”

“I’ll exercise you.”

“Oh, Belove,” Icarus cantered over and threw the stick into the captive’s pen, “You always do know what to say. It’s funny, I haven’t known you for very long, but… I think I’ll miss you when you’re gone. Speaking of which, I’d best get going myself! Princesses to save, villains to smite, Kingdoms to rule and all that!” He signalled to the two Bodyguards nearest him. “You two shall wait here, and when the beast demands it, serve it its breakfast. You two, with me.”

The unicorn and the Pegasus followed their leader back into the thick of the forest. Icarus swivelled on the spot, and gave a formal salute. “Goodbye, my friend!”

Belove was quick to remind him that he was not his friend. Nor was he a sir.

“Always a pleasure!”

His laughter trailed off beyond the reaches of prying eyes. The two sentry guards, who remained behind at the encampment, gave each other unsure glances, their white noses wrinkled and creased.

“So, guys, you couldn’t…”

“Not a word,” the larger of the two gruffly responded, his voice deep and husky. They were clearly in no mood for Belove’s nonsense, and by golly did they show it. The duo circled around the camp once, twice, and then, convinced that the camp was secure, they lay back down by the fire, and began to talk, low and indecipherably.

Belove shrugged and circled his pen a few times, before lowering himself to the hard, cold ground, and tried his darndest to pretend he was back home, and the dewy grass would transmute to his mattress once again. His chin settled on a wet patch, but he lacked the energy to move. The Manticore was still putting up quite a ruckus, and one of the guards told it to be quiet, and a moment later this sparked a bestial yelp. Belove couldn’t help but feel sorry for the thing now. He could do little else but feel sorry for a lot of things.

A twig snapped behind him, and then came the rustle of leaves. He wasn’t presumptuous or foolish enough to think that it was his friends, coming to rescue him from his dire situation. As much as he hated to admit it, they’d likely forgotten about him, and he wouldn’t blame them for turning their backs on him. Only he knew of Icarus’ true plans, and, without any aid of escape, this vital knowledge would surely perish with him.

‘Stuff Icarus and stuff Equestria,’ thought the red stallion with a huff, ‘I’m not going to let myself be eaten by a Manticore.’

Of course, he had little to say on the matter.

He felt tears coming, but he forced them back until they dried up. No. He was too proud.

Belove sorely wished he had never woken up.